26.
[Ahhhh! Lacking motivation because of those silent readers but alr sure ig]
Dushala stared at Devasena for a full second after that question before bursting into exhausted laughter loud enough to echo across the marble staircase beneath the roaring winter winds.
"Oh, Devasena," she breathed between helpless laughs, one hand clutching her arm dramatically while tears still lingered in her eyes from greeting her parents. "You truly do not understand what you look like."
Devasena frowned faintly, already overwhelmed by the sheer number of eyes fixed upon her from every direction imaginable.
"I asked what is happening," she repeated quietly.
"That," Dushala replied immediately, gesturing toward the entire palace courtyard glittering beneath torchlight and falling flowers, "is what is happening."
And unfortunately—
she was correct.
Because the longer Devasena stood beneath the winter skies of Hastinapur, the stranger the atmosphere became.
At first the palace had merely stared.
Now the staring had transformed into something alive.
A restless tension spreading invisibly through the enormous courtyard like fire beneath silk.
Servants slowed unconsciously while carrying trays.
Young princes lost entire conversations midway through speaking.
Noblewomen leaned dangerously over carved balcony railings whispering behind jeweled veils while horrified attendants repeatedly tried pulling them back before they toppled directly into the courtyard below.
Even the musicians had become distracted.
The rhythm of drums faltered every few moments before hurriedly correcting themselves again while shehnai players kept glancing toward the staircase despite themselves.
And through all of it—
Devasena remained painfully unaware of how devastating she looked standing there with winter winds moving endlessly through her loosened hair and golden firelight trembling beneath her face.
The eternal flame resting inside the crystal enclosure cast shifting amber light upward against her features, illuminating the softness of her mouth, the delicate structure of her cheekbones and the faint traces of exhaustion shadowing the skin beneath her lashes.
Flower petals drifted endlessly into the dark waves of her hair before sliding silently away again while cold northern winds swept through the open courtyard hard enough to lift the pale southern silks wrapped around her body.
The silver-thread embroidery shimmered softly every time she moved.
Like moonlight trembling across frozen water.
She did not look adorned.
She looked ethereal.
Like divinity made briefly human.
And somehow—
the exhaustion only worsened the effect.
Because beauty carefully prepared could be understood.
This could not.
Nothing about Devasena felt intentional.
Not the way she unconsciously shielded the flame from the wind before adjusting her own shawl.
Not the way tiredness softened her posture just enough to make her seem heartbreakingly real beneath all that impossible beauty.
Not the sadness resting quietly within her eyes like something she had carried alone for far too long.
From above the staircase, Duryodhana watched her steadily, his expression unreadable beneath the torchlight though his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Beside him, Dushasana finally dragged both hands dramatically over his face.
"I would like to formally apologize to Yuyutsu," he announced.
Several nearby princes immediately snorted.
"You mocked him for weeks," one reminded him.
"And now," Dushasana replied flatly, still staring toward Devasena, "I understand the man was suffering."
Yuyutsu, standing several steps behind the Kuru princes in darker royal garments dusted faintly with winter ash and travel residue, looked profoundly unimpressed.
"I warned all of you repeatedly."
"No," Dushasana corrected instantly. "You spoke like a poet dying from divine punishment."
"Because none of you were listening."
"We assumed you were exaggerating."
Yuyutsu let out a quiet breath before glancing once toward Devasena.
And unlike everyone else watching her—
his expression changed differently.
No fascination.
No shock.
No visible awe.
Just warmth.
Familiarity.
The effortless affection of someone who remembered her before kingdoms started whispering about her beauty like political catastrophe.
Because Yuyutsu had not met Devasena here in Hastinapur beneath torchlight and ceremony.
He had met her months ago in Vanga after accompanying Dushala there following her swayamvara alongside Dyumsena, Bhima and Arjuna.
And unfortunately for his peace—
Devasena had immediately decided he was entertaining.
Which had nearly destroyed the dignity of the entire royal procession.
Yuyutsu still remembered returning to Hastinapur afterward exhausted beyond reason while Dushasana mocked him endlessly for speaking about the Vanga princess like a man recovering from spiritual injury.
Now he felt deeply vindicated.
Devasena noticed him almost instantly.
And suddenly—
her entire face transformed.
The exhaustion softened first.
Then surprise flickered visibly through her eyes before warmth followed so quickly and sincerely it altered her expression completely.
"Yuyutsu?"
That single word carried such genuine happiness that several nearby princes looked irrationally offended by it.
Yuyutsu descended two steps toward her slowly, and despite the grandeur surrounding them—the ministers, priests, drums, torches and endless ceremonial noise filling the palace courtyard—the interaction suddenly felt startlingly normal.
Human.
Real.
"You survived Hastinapur," he said gravely.
Devasena blinked once before narrowing her eyes faintly.
"You released peacocks into my music hall."
"That," Yuyutsu replied calmly, "was an accident."
"You painted my veena gold."
"You said it lacked personality."
"You bribed temple children into replacing my flower garlands with vegetables."
"That," he admitted thoughtfully, "was extremely funny."
Dushala burst into laughter immediately.
Even Queen Gandhari visibly failed to suppress her amusement.
From beside her, Dhritarashtra frowned faintly toward the sound of laughter filling the courtyard.
"What did he do now?" he asked with the exhausted tone of a father who already expected disappointment.
Dushasana answered instantly.
"Apparently Yuyutsu terrorized Vanga."
"I improved Vanga," Yuyutsu corrected.
"You painted musical instruments."
"They were dull."
Queen Vaidhei finally laughed properly then, warm and elegant beneath the cold evening air.
"He also convinced half my palace guards that Devasena intended to become a wandering ascetic."
Dushasana looked horrified.
"She believed him for two hours," Yuyutsu added helpfully.
Devasena looked scandalized. "Because you forged temple letters!"
"They were extremely convincing letters."
Even Bhishma closed his eyes briefly like a man reconsidering every decision that had led him here.
And for the first time since arriving in Hastinapur—
Devasena laughed.
Not politely.
Not softly.
Properly.
The sound was warm and low and startlingly alive beneath the cold northern winds, and the effect it had upon the courtyard was catastrophic.
Because suddenly she no longer looked distant.
She looked real.
Young.
Radiant enough to ruin people completely.
The palace visibly forgot itself again.
Duryodhana stared openly now.
Several younger princes looked outright doomed.
Above them, noblewomen whispered louder behind jeweled veils.
"Mahadev..."
"She becomes prettier when she smiles..."
"No wonder kingdoms speak about her constantly..."
Yuyutsu noticed all of it immediately.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
But then his attention shifted back toward Devasena properly for the first time in months—
and his amusement faded slightly.
Because Dushala had been right.
Devasena had changed.
Not outwardly alone.
Yes, she was more beautiful now somehow—softer and sharper all at once beneath exhaustion, winter torchlight and the glow of the eternal flame.
But something deeper had shifted too.
There was restraint in her now where chaos once lived freely.
Stillness.
A quiet sadness she carried too naturally.
Even the way she stood had changed slightly—as though life itself had taught her to keep pieces of herself hidden before offering them away carelessly.
Yuyutsu's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"You grew up," he said quietly.
And strangely—
that affected Devasena more than the staring ever had.
Her smile faltered only slightly afterward.
Just slightly.
But Yuyutsu noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Because once upon a time—
before kingdoms and sacred flames and whatever sorrow now lived quietly behind her eyes—
Devasena had been his favorite partner in disaster.