13.
The journey westward did not feel sudden.
It felt like watching the world slowly change its face.
The farther the royal caravan moved away from Vanga, the more unfamiliar everything became.
The rivers widened and darkened into deep blue instead of soft clay-brown.
Palm forests slowly gave way to rocky coastlines.
Even the air smelled different now—less of rain and wet earth, more of salt carried by restless winds.
Devasena noticed everything.
She always did.
At dawn she sat near the carved chariot window with one knee drawn slightly upward beneath layers of sapphire silk, absently turning a page of her manuscript while pale sunlight crept slowly across the roads ahead.
Beside her, protected within carved crystal, the sacred diya glowed quietly.The tiny golden flame barely moved despite the shaking wheels beneath them.
Steady.
Always steady.
Devasena's fingers drifted toward it instinctively whenever the roads turned uneven, as though checking whether it still breathed beside her. Perhaps because it had existed beside her for so long that silence itself felt strange without it.
She barely remembered life before the flame anymore.
Only fragments remained. Monsoon rain hammering against temple stone. The smell of sandalwood smoke inside the Mahadev mandir.
An old rishi kneeling before her with eyes far too knowing for comfort.
An unfinished destiny.
That was all he had said before placing the eternal flame into her hands.
No explanations.
No names.
No answers.
At eight years old, she had not understood him.
Years later—she still did not.
But the flame remained. And so did she. A groan beside her abruptly broke the silence.
Dushala shifted dramatically against the chariot cushions before glaring toward Dyumsena across from them.
"Your brother snores like he is personally fighting wars in his sleep."
Dyumsena opened one eye lazily.
"I have not slept yet."
"That is somehow more irritating."
"You insult me every morning."
"You survive every morning."
"That sounds like a threat."
"It was affection."
Devasena lowered her manuscript slightly, hiding her smile behind it.
Across from her, Dyumsena noticed immediately.
"There," he pointed accusingly. "She encourages you.
"
"I do not," Devasena replied calmly.
"You looked pleased."
"I looked entertained.
There is a difference."
Dushala gasped dramatically.
"She admits it at last."
"You called him a war elephant.
"
"He behaves like one."
"I am sitting here.
"
"And yet somehow still stomping spiritually.
"
Devasena finally laughed softly beneath her breath while Dyumsena leaned back against the cushions looking deeply betrayed by both women.
The sound settled warmly inside the small traveling space.
Strange.
Months ago, silence between them had been formal.
Measured.
Now Dushala stole jewels from Devasena's chambers openly and argued with her before breakfast like they had grown up together.
And Devasena—
despite herself—had begun waiting for it.
Perhaps because Dushala carried affection without caution.
Perhaps because Dyumsena looked lighter beside her.
Or perhaps because for the first time in years, palace life no longer felt endlessly composed around Devasena.
Outside, the western roads grew louder each passing day.
Merchants crowded roadside inns carrying pearls, sandalwood, spices, dyed silks, coral jewelry, and strange western perfumes unfamiliar even to Vanga's trade ministers.
Travelers spoke loudly in dialects Devasena recognized only partially while musicians wandered between camps at night trading songs for meals and shelter.
And somehow—every road still led back to stories about Dwarka.
Or Arjuna or Dwarkadesh and his siblings .
Mostly Arjuna.
One evening, while attendants prepared supper beside a roadside riverbank glowing orange beneath sunset, Dushala finally dropped back dramatically against embroidered cushions.
"At this point," she declared, "I know more about Parth from strangers than from Hastinapur itself."
Dyumsena sat nearby polishing the hilt of his sword while one servant attempted unsuccessfully to untangle horse reins behind him.
"Half of Bharat seems emotionally attached to the Pandavas," he replied.
"As they should be."
Devasena turned another manuscript page lazily.
"You sound personally invested."
"I am personally invested."
"That explains the lack of objectivity."
Dushala narrowed her eyes before throwing a flower directly at her. Without even glancing upward, Devasena caught it neatly between two fingers. Dyumsena stared at both women for a long moment.
"You two have become impossible together."
Dushala looked delighted.
"She was already impossible."
"True," Dyumsena admitted immediately.
"Betrayal," Devasena murmured.
"Accuracy," both replied together.
For once—she laughed properly.
Not politely.
Not softly restrained.
The sound escaped before she could smooth it away, warm and bright enough that even nearby attendants smiled without meaning to.
And both Dushala and Dyumsena looked strangely satisfied afterward.
As though they had accomplished something important.
The closer they traveled toward Dwarka, the more alive the roads became.
Trade caravans thickened.
Harbors appeared more frequently.
Sea birds replaced river cranes overhead.
Then one morning—
Dwarka appeared.
And for the first time in a very long while—
Devasena forgot composure entirely.
The city rose beside the ocean like something pulled directly from mythology.
White marble walls curved along endless sapphire waters while towering golden palaces caught the western sunlight so brilliantly they almost hurt to look at.
Hundreds of ships crowded the glittering harbors below, their banners snapping sharply in the sea winds, while enormous temple bells echoed faintly across the coastline.
Everything moved.
Everything breathed.
Dwarka did not sit quietly like ancient royal capitals.
It pulsed.
Dushala noticed Devasena staring through the chariot curtains without blinking.
"...you stopped breathing for a moment."
"I did not.
"
"You absolutely did."
"That sounds medically serious.
"
Dyumsena laughed quietly beneath his breath while ocean winds swept loose strands from Devasena's braid.
Beautiful , he matched his sister's thoughts regarding the magnificent empire , the golden one.
Dwarka was beautiful in the loudest possible way.
By the time the royal procession entered the palace courtyards, the entire city seemed awake to witness it.
Conches sounded from towering balconies.
Musicians lined the marble pathways with drums and cymbals.
Flower petals rained endlessly from upper terraces crowded with noblewomen leaning dangerously far over carved railings for a better look at the arriving guests from Vanga.
And in the middle of all that noise—
Subhadra came flying down the palace steps.
Not walking.
Flying.
One elderly attendant behind her looked moments away from collapsing in despair.
Her anklets rang sharply against white marble while sea winds tore half her braid loose behind her.
Then she saw Dushala.
"You abandoned me." Dushala burst into helpless laughter just before Subhadra wrapped both arms around her dramatically.
"I got married."
"And disappeared.
"
"You hate traveling."
"That is irrelevant.
"
"You called the road to Vanga a personal insult from the gods.
"
"It was a personal insult from the gods. "
Standing beside Dyumsena, Devasena watched the entire exchange quietly while amusement flickered beneath her composed expression.
So this was Subhadra.
Warm-faced.
Bright-eyed.
Entirely incapable of hiding emotion.
Then suddenly Subhadra pulled away from Dushala— and noticed Devasena properly.The younger princess stopped speaking altogether.
Sea winds rushed through the courtyard between them while flower petals rolled softly across polished marble.
Subhadra blinked once.
Then slowly turned toward Arjuna standing behind the welcoming party.
"You described her like a poet suffering from heartbreak , Arjuna."
Arjuna looked entirely unapologetic
"I was being modest and entirely truthful."
"That is horrifying."
Dyumsena coughed sharply into his fist to hide his laughter.
Meanwhile Devasena merely inclined her head politely, though faint amusement touched the corners of her mouth.
Beside her, the eternal flame glowed warmly beneath its crystal casing.
Subhadra noticed it almost immediately. Her expression softened with visible curiosity.
"The sacred flame..."
Devasena's fingers instinctively brushed the edge of the crystal enclosure.
"It has remained with me since childhood. "
"I heard stories about it from Ananta," Subhadra admitted, stepping closer now. "They said the Princess of Vanga carries a diya that never dies."
"Stories exaggerate."
"In your case?" Arjuna said lazily from behind them. "Rarely."
For the briefest second, Devasena looked toward him. And Arjuna noticed it instantly.
The difference.
Months ago she had felt brighter somehow.
Less guarded.
Now refinement wrapped around her naturally.
Even her mischief felt elegant.
Even her silence felt intentional. Subhadra recovered first. Then immediately reached for Devasena's hands warmly.
"Subhadra—"
"I refuse to let these people monopolize you first."
"She is my friend," Arjuna argued.
"She is my guest."
"She is Vanga royalty.
"The moon had fully risen by the time the royal dinner began.
From the open sea-facing halls of Dwarka's palace, Devasena could hear the ocean endlessly crashing against the cliffs below.
The sound lingered beneath everything else—beneath the drifting music, beneath the laughter spilling from the royal tables, beneath the soft chiming of anklets against marble floors.
Dwarka did not quieten after sunset.
It came alive.
Golden lamps hung from carved archways overlooking the sea while pearl-strung curtains swayed lazily in the salted night winds curling through the corridors. Reflections from floating diyas trembled across the polished marble floors beneath passing feet like broken stars scattered over water.
Everything shimmered.
The jewels.
The walls.
The people.
Especially the people.
Nobody in Dwarka seemed trained into restraint the way royal courts usually demanded. Conversations overlapped openly. Laughter interrupted formalities. Even attendants smiled while serving the royal family instead of lowering themselves into frightened silence.
Devasena noticed all of it quietly while walking beside Dushala through the glowing hall.
The sacred diya rested beside her within its crystal enclosure as always, its eternal flame glowing steadily against the sapphire silk draped around her wrists.
And tonight—
people stared.
Not rudely.
Not long enough to insult.
But enough.
The first look was always beauty.
The second curiosity.
The third usually carried fascination people attempted desperately to hide.
Dwarka hid it better than most kingdoms.
But not entirely.
One young attendant carrying silver goblets nearly missed a step after glancing too long toward Devasena and the softly glowing flame beside her.
The tray tilted dangerously.
Before panic could settle properly across the girl's face, Devasena reached forward instinctively and steadied the edge of the platter with graceful ease.
"Slowly," she said softly.
The attendant froze immediately before flushing crimson.
"My apologies, Rajkumari."
Devasena released the tray gently.
"Nothing fell," she replied calmly. "So nothing happened."
Relief visibly loosened the girl's shoulders.
She bowed quickly before hurrying away.
Behind Devasena, Dyumsena watched the entire interaction while one corner of his mouth lifted faintly.
"You do that often," he murmured.
Devasena glanced toward him while continuing through the hall.
"Do what?"
"Make people forget they were nervous.
"
Dushala immediately laughed under her breath before looping her arm affectionately through Devasena's.
"That is true," she said.
"That sounds exhausting," Devasena replied dryly.
"No," Dushala corrected while smiling sideways at her, "it sounds unfair.
People like you too quickly."
Devasena huffed the faintest laugh but said nothing.
Ahead of them, Subhadra turned the moment she noticed their arrival. And brightened instantly.
"There you are!"
She crossed the distance quickly enough that two attendants behind her had to move aside hurriedly.
Before anyone could properly finish arranging the seats, Subhadra pointed decisively toward the empty place beside herself.
"She sits here."
The servant arranging goblets froze mid-motion.
Dushala gasped dramatically.
"You replaced me already?
"
Subhadra looked entirely unapologetic while adjusting the bangles along her wrist.
"You arrived married," she replied matter-of-factly.
"Your priorities changed."
"My priorities expanded. "
"Excuses."
Dyumsena nearly laughed into his goblet while Devasena lowered herself gracefully into the seat beside Subhadra, amusement flickering briefly beneath her composed expression.
Across the long sea-facing table, Balram had already settled comfortably beside Revati while several Yadava nobles spoke loudly nearby.
For the first time that evening, Devasena noticed Revati properly.
The elder queen possessed a quieter sort of beauty than Subhadra.
Not brightness.
Stillness.
Revati watched before reacting.
Observed before speaking.
And at that moment—she was observing Devasena carefully over the rim of her goblet.
Not critically.
Curiously.
Their eyes met briefly across the table.
Revati smiled first.
Warmly enough that some invisible stiffness disappeared from the atmosphere entirely.
"So," Revati said lightly while one attendant poured wine nearby, "this is the princess we have heard so much about. "
Further down the table, Arjuna immediately straightened.
"I spoke very reasonably," he defended.
Subhadra turned toward Devasena with complete seriousness.
"He did not, as much as a stunning woman you are dear friend. Arjuna , here sounded utterly entranced."
"Subhadra—"
"He compared your eyes to monsoon clouds during breakfast," she informed calmly.
Dyumsena closed his eyes briefly in visible suffering.
"He said that publicly?"
"It was relevant to the conversation," Arjuna replied with dignity.
Balram leaned back against his seat lazily before lifting his goblet.
"There was no conversation," he drawled. "You brought it up yourself."
Laughter scattered across the table instantly.
Even Revati lowered her head slightly, hiding her smile behind her goblet.
Across from them, Devasena finally looked toward Arjuna properly.
One elegant brow lifted ever so slightly.
"You have been working very hard for my reputation.
"
Arjuna looked entirely unashamed.
"Someone had to.
"
"And now Dwarka believes I descend from poetry and river mist."
Subhadra pointed dramatically toward Devasena before turning toward the others.
"See? Exactly this."
Dushala narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"This what?"
Subhadra leaned toward her conspiratorially.
"She says dangerous things softly." Balram laughed loudly at that while pointing toward Subhadra approvingly.
"She noticed already?"
"Oh immediately.
"
Meanwhile Revati simply continued watching Devasena more carefully now.
Not merely beautiful then.
Interesting.
And across the table, several younger nobles had unconsciously begun paying more attention to Devasena's reactions than the actual conversation unfolding around them.
Balram noticed that too.
But something else lingered in the back of his mind.
Earlier that morning, Krishna had barely listened to half the council discussions until Arjuna casually mentioned Devasena's arrival in Dwarka.
Then—silence.
Brief.
Almost invisible.
But Balram had known his younger brother too long to miss it.
Krishna had stilled for exactly one breath too long.
Now Balram's gaze flickered briefly toward the empty seat further along the royal arrangement.
Still absent.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Slowly, Balram leaned back against his chair before glancing deliberately toward Arjuna.
Then toward Devasena.
A grin spread across his face.
"Oh," he said pleasantly while lifting his goblet, "Arjuna is finished."
The table erupted immediately.
"Dau!"
Arjuna looked horrified while Subhadra physically doubled over laughing beside Devasena.
Revati sighed tiredly beside her husband before nudging his arm lightly.
"One day," she told Balram, "you will stop tormenting people for entertainment."
Balram looked genuinely thoughtful for half a second.
"No," he decided.
Dushala burst into laughter again while Dyumsena shook his head helplessly.
Subhadra pointed accusingly toward Arjuna through her laughter.
"He truly did return from Vanga changed.
"
"I returned educated."
"You returned hopeless.
"
"That is dramatic."
Balram took a slow sip from his goblet before replying calmly.
"That is accurate."
Arjuna stared at him in betrayal.
"You are inventing stories now."
"No," Balram replied smoothly while lowering the goblet again, "I merely enjoy watching you panic.
"
"I am not panicking."
"Your ears turned red three sentences ago.
"
This time even Dyumsena laughed openly , having seen the effect his sister had so such men.
Meanwhile Devasena sat quietly beside Subhadra, watching the exchange unfold around her while sea winds moved softly through the open hall.
Amusement lingered within her eyes now.
Warm amusement.
Not the polite sort expected from princesses.
And somehow—the entire table kept gravitating back toward her reactions without realizing it.
Beside Balram, Revati finally leaned slightly toward him and murmured quietly enough for only him to hear—
"Enough.
"
Balram only smiled into his goblet. Not yet.