6.
By the time the royal procession finally reached Vanga, dusk had begun settling across the eastern skies.
The kingdom shimmered beneath the evening light like something touched by divinity itself.
Rows upon rows of oil lamps glowed along the riverbanks while saffron banners danced restlessly above marble domes kissed by monsoon winds.
The palace of Vanga rose proudly beside the waters in pale white stone and gold, its towering archways wrapped with garlands of jasmine and marigold so abundant that even the air smelled sweet.
Word of the royal couple's arrival had spread since morning.
The entire capital had gathered.
From balconies.
Temple stairways.
Market terraces.
Palace rooftops.
Every visible corner overlooking the enormous courtyard before the palace entrance overflowed with people waiting to witness the arrival of their future queen.
Musicians lined the pathways holding veenas, mridangams, and conch shells while palace maidens stood in perfect rows carrying silver aarti thalis overflowing with flowers, sandalwood paste, vermillion, and towering sacred flames that flickered gold against the deepening evening skies.
At the very top of the palace staircase stood the royal family of Vanga.
King Veerendra.
Queen Vaidehi.
And beside them—
Devasena.
Trying very hard to appear dignified.
Trying.
Failing slightly.
"Stand properly," Queen Vaidehi murmured without looking toward her daughter.
"I am standing properly."
"You are leaning half your body over the staircase."
"I simply wished to see Bhabhi first."
"You shall."
"And the princes from Hastinapur?
"
This time her mother looked at her directly.
Devasena immediately straightened.
".
..respectfully."
Beside them, King Veerendra laughed softly beneath his breath.
"She says that as though curiosity has ever allowed her dignity. "
"I heard that."
"You were meant to."
Before Devasena could protest further—
the palace gates opened.
At once the conches sounded.
Deep.
Ancient.
Powerful enough to echo through the entire kingdom.
Flower petals immediately rained from the upper balconies.
Thousands of them.
Red.
White.
Gold.
The first Kuru banners entered the courtyard proudly beneath roaring cheers from the gathered crowds.
Inside the royal procession, Yuyutsu instinctively lifted his gaze toward the staircase—
and froze.
For one absurd moment, he genuinely thought the evening firelight was deceiving him.
Because standing beneath the towering palace entrance was a woman who looked less human and more like something sculpted carefully from prayer itself.
Pale gold silk flowed around her softly beneath the wind while jasmine flowers rested against waves of impossibly dark hair falling over one shoulder.
Even from this distance there was something achingly gentle about her face.
Not fragile.
Alive.
Warm.
Yuyutsu stared openly.
"...holy heavens.
"
Beside him, Arjuna frowned slightly.
"What happened?"
But Yuyutsu only gestured weakly toward the staircase.
Arjuna followed his gaze.
And paused.
The sounds of the cheering crowd faded strangely into the background.
Because the stories had not prepared them at all.
Poets across Aryavarta constantly praised Princess Devasena's beauty.
But standing here now beneath drifting flower petals and sacred firelight—
Arjuna realized they lacked the skill to describe her properly.
Bhima looked upward next.
Then blinked once.
"...the poets lied."
"No," Arjuna corrected quietly, eyes still fixed ahead.
"They failed."
Above them, entirely unaware of the crisis unfolding below, Devasena leaned forward again.
"Can you see them now?" she whispered.
"No," Queen Vaidehi replied calmly. "Because someone's head is still blocking mine.
"
Devasena immediately straightened again.
"...sorry."
King Veerendra smiled faintly into his goblet.
Moments later, the first carriage doors opened.
Dyumsena stepped out beneath thunderous cheers from the gathered kingdom, dressed in ceremonial black and gold silk embroidered heavily across the shoulders like flowing riverfire.
Then—
Dushala emerged beside him.
Flower petals drifted endlessly around the couple while sacred flames danced across polished marble beneath their feet.
And for one brief moment—
Dushala froze.
Not from fear.
From overwhelm.
The people were smiling at her.
Truly smiling.
Not politely.
Not politically.
Happily.
Dyumsena noticed immediately.
Without speaking, he shifted slightly closer beside her.
Barely noticeable to anyone else.
But enough.
Enough that her shoulders relaxed softly afterward.
Then the welcoming rituals began.
Palace maidens stepped forward carrying enormous silver aarti plates while priests chanted blessings through curling incense smoke. Vermillion was pressed gently against Dushala's forehead before jasmine garlands were placed around both her and Dyumsena beneath deafening cheers from the kingdom.
Throughout the entire ritual, Queen Vaidehi never once looked away from Dushala.
Not critically.
Tenderly.
As though making certain the young bride never felt alone for even a moment.
The instant the rituals ended, the queen descended the staircase herself.
Dushala immediately lowered her gaze respectfully.
But before she could bow properly, Queen Vaidehi gently touched her cheek.
The gesture startled her enough to look up.
"You have traveled far," the queen said softly.
Her voice held none of the sharpness royal women often perfected after years within political courts.
Only warmth.
"We prayed the journey was kind to you.
"
Dushala swallowed unexpectedly.
"I am well, Maharani.
"
Queen Vaidehi frowned immediately.
"Maharani?
" she repeated softly. "Am I already so frightening?
"
Dushala looked alarmed at once. "No, I did not mean—"
"Then call me Ma , if your heart allows it. "
Something in Dushala's chest tightened painfully at the gentleness of it.
Beside them, King Veerendra stepped forward, regal yet strangely comforting in presence.
"You enter this kingdom not as an alliance," he said calmly.
"But as family."
No performance lingered within his tone.
No royal dramatics.
Only sincerity.
"We know Hastinapur is difficult to leave behind," he continued gently.
"So until Vanga begins feeling like home, we shall simply keep trying harder.
"
Dushala lowered her gaze quickly afterward because suddenly her eyes burned embarrassingly.
And naturally—
that was the exact moment Devasena destroyed the emotional atmosphere entirely.
"Mata," she whispered loudly from the staircase, "if you continue speaking like this Bhabhi is truly going to cry before entering the palace.
"
"Devasena," Dyumsena warned immediately.
"What? I am speaking truthfully."
Dushala laughed despite herself.
Small.
Soft.
But real.
Devasena's entire face lit up instantly.
"Oh finally."
Without waiting another second, she hurried down the remaining staircase.
"Will you walk slowly for once?" Dyumsena sighed.
"No."
"You are going to fall."
"I have survived this long.
"
"You tripped over your lehenga this morning.
"
"That was architecture's fault."
Bhima laughed loudly enough that nearby guards immediately looked downward trying to hide smiles.
Even Arjuna looked away briefly, shoulders shaking faintly beneath restraint.
Meanwhile Devasena finally reached Dushala and immediately took both her hands warmly into hers.
Up close, Dushala realized something dangerous.
The poems were wrong.
Not because Devasena was not beautiful.
But because beauty was the least overwhelming thing about her.
It was the warmth.
The way every feeling arrived honestly across her face before she could hide it.
"You must be exhausted," Devasena said softly now, all teasing gone.
"The journey from Hastinapur is terribly long. "
"I am alright."
"You are answering politely."
"Devasena," Dyumsena warned again.
"She looks tired, Bhai."
King Veerendra looked deeply entertained by all of this.
Meanwhile Devasena suddenly noticed the royal guests standing behind them and visibly remembered decorum existed.
Immediately her posture changed.
Shoulders straightened.
Smile softened.
Chin lifted elegantly.
The transformation was so abrupt that Bhima blinked.
"Welcome to Vanga," she said smoothly, voice suddenly refined and princely.
"We are honored to receive the revered princes of Hastinapur. "
Silence.
Then Dyumsena stared at her suspiciously.
"...when did you become so refined?"
Instantly the composure shattered.
"Bhai!"
"I am serious. Who taught you that?"
"MA!."
"I regret asking."
Bhima burst into another laugh while even Arjuna lowered his head briefly.
Yuyutsu smiled helplessly now despite himself.
Devasena narrowed her eyes toward all of them , faint smile gracing her features.
"You are all very rude guests."
"And yet you continue smiling," Arjuna observed quietly.
For one brief second, she looked directly at him.
Then immediately away again.
Because heavens.
The princes of Hastinapur were unfairly beautiful people.
Bhima looked like mountains taught warfare.
Arjuna carried elegance dangerous enough to unsettle courts.
And Yuyutsu—
her gaze flickered toward him briefly—looked unexpectedly gentle.
"You must be Yuyutsu," she said softly.
The youngest Kaurava blinked once, mildly surprised.
"I am."
Devasena smiled warmly.
"Bhai mentioned in one of his letters , you accompanied Bhabhi because you are kind."
Absolute silence.
Bhima slowly turned toward Yuyutsu with immediate interest.
Arjuna looked openly amused now.
Yuyutsu closed his eyes briefly.
"...Bhima heard that, did he not?"
"I absolutely did," Bhima replied instantly.
For the first time since arriving—
Yuyutsu regretted everything.
And somewhere amidst sacred flames, drifting flower petals, laughter, and jasmine-scented winds—
the palace of Vanga no longer felt unfamiliar to its guests.