27.
The formal welcoming rituals lasted far longer than Devasena believed human endurance should reasonably allow.
Priests circled sacred lamps endlessly before the royal guests while chants rolled through the palace entrance in deep rhythmic waves that seemed to vibrate against the marble itself.
Garlands were exchanged. Blessings offered.
Sacred water sprinkled across the steps while ministers introduced themselves one after another in voices so polished and ceremonial that Devasena nearly forgot half their names immediately after hearing them.
The eternal flame was finally entrusted temporarily to the royal temple attendants under heavy supervision from Vanga priests, though Devasena's fingers lingered against the crystal enclosure a moment longer before releasing it.
Yuyutsu noticed that too.
Of course he did.
Then came the final blessings from Gandhari and Dhritarashtra.
Queen Gandhari pressed both hands lightly against Devasena's head in blessing while murmuring soft prayers beneath her breath, her touch startlingly warm despite the cold evening air.
"May this palace never make you lonely," she said quietly.
Something about those words unsettled Devasena unexpectedly.
Because loneliness already seemed woven directly into the stones of Hastinapur.
Dhritarashtra spoke next.
"You are welcome here as family," he said calmly. "Not merely as a guest of diplomacy."
The statement carried weight instantly.
Because in royal courts, words like that were never spoken carelessly.
Devasena bowed respectfully at once. "Your kindness honors me, Maharaj."
"No," Dhritarashtra replied mildly. "Judging from the state of this courtyard, I suspect the honor belongs elsewhere."
Several nearby princes nearly choked to death trying not to laugh.
Duryodhana looked personally betrayed by his father.
Finally—
mercifully—
the ceremonies ended.
The palace slowly began loosening from formal rigidity into movement again as ministers dispersed, attendants gathered trays and servants hurried toward the inner halls preparing for the royal evening feast.
And almost immediately, Dushala seized Devasena by the wrist.
"You are coming with me."
Devasena blinked. "Where?"
"To survive Hastinapur before it survives you."
"That sentence explains nothing."
"It explains everything."
Before anyone else could intervene, Dushala was already dragging her toward the inner palace corridors while attendants scrambled behind them in panic.
"Rajkumari slowly!"
"You should not walk this quickly!"
"You are carrying a child!"
"I am carrying royalty," Dushala corrected dramatically without slowing down. "The child can endure."
Devasena glanced backward helplessly toward Queen Vaidhei.
Her mother only sighed tiredly.
"Go," she said knowingly. "You are safer with Dushala than alone in this palace currently."
"That is not reassuring."
"It should not be."
And then suddenly—
they were inside Hastinapur proper.
The difference struck Devasena immediately.
The outer palace had felt ceremonial.
The inner palace felt ancient.
Massive corridors stretched endlessly beneath towering carved ceilings supported by enormous stone pillars wrapped in fading gold detailing worn smooth by centuries of royal hands passing beside them.
Oil lamps burned within bronze wall niches, their flames flickering against murals depicting ancient Kuru kings, forgotten wars and gods painted across the walls in colors darkened by time.
The palace smelled faintly of sandalwood smoke, old silk, incense and winter.
Somewhere far away, temple bells echoed softly through the corridors.
Servants moved quickly through the halls with lowered heads while armored guards stood silently beside archways holding long spears tipped with silver.
Everything felt heavier here.
Older.
As though the palace itself remembered too much.
Dushala, meanwhile, looked delighted.
"This corridor," she announced proudly while dragging Devasena forward, "is where Duryodhana once tried hiding from his sword instructor after accidentally setting part of the training grounds on fire."
"I was eight!" Duryodhana called from somewhere behind them immediately.
Devasena startled slightly before turning.
Several of the Kuru princes had apparently followed them without invitation.
Of course they had.
Dushasana grinned openly. "You are speaking as though that improved with age."
"It improved significantly."
"You set curtains on fire three years ago."
"That was strategic."
"No," Yuyutsu said flatly from behind them, "that was incompetence."
Devasena laughed softly before she could stop herself.
And unfortunately—
every prince immediately looked distracted again.
Dushala noticed.
So did Yuyutsu.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Completely ignoring them, Dushala continued proudly guiding Devasena through the palace like a child showing off hidden treasures.
"And there," she said dramatically while pointing ahead, "is the eastern courtyard where Bhima once threw Dushasana directly into the lotus pond."
"He deserved it," Bhima replied instantly.
"I had done nothing!"
"You were speaking."
"That is not a crime."
"It becomes one eventually."
Even the servants walking nearby looked exhausted hearing them.
They passed enormous open courtyards glowing beneath moonlight where fountains shimmered silver beneath the cold night sky. Winter jasmine climbed carved sandstone walls while silk banners drifted slowly overhead between palace balconies lined with glowing lanterns.
The deeper they walked into the palace, the more Devasena realized something unsettling.
Hastinapur was beautiful.
Not delicate like Dwarka.
Not vibrant like Vanga.
Hastinapur's beauty felt severe.
Like a kingdom built by people who valued endurance more than comfort.
Even its luxury carried weight.
Dushala slowed slightly then as they entered a quieter corridor away from most attendants and ministers.
"This side of the palace is calmer," she explained softly. "Mostly family quarters."
The noise of the palace faded gradually behind them until only distant footsteps and faint temple bells remained.
For the first time since arriving—
Devasena exhaled properly.
Dushala noticed immediately.
"You are overwhelmed."
"A little."
"That means the palace has not completely frightened you yet."
"It absolutely has."
Dushala laughed warmly before looping one arm through hers more gently this time.
"You will get used to it," she promised. "Hastinapur feels cold at first. Then one day you realize the palace has quietly memorized you."
Somehow—
that sentence felt less comforting than intended.
Dushala slowed only when they reached one of the enormous inner courtyards branching away from the main palace halls, moonlight spilling silver across polished marble while fountains murmured softly beneath the winter night.
Tall oil lamps burned along the surrounding corridors, their flames bending gently whenever cold winds slipped through the open archways carrying the scent of jasmine and sandalwood smoke.
"This," Dushala declared dramatically while turning toward Devasena, "is where I introduce you properly before my brothers destroy their own dignity."
"We lost dignity years ago," Dushasana replied immediately.
"Speak for yourself," Duryodhana said calmly.
"No," Yuyutsu corrected. "He speaks for all of you."
Devasena laughed softly beneath her breath.
The sound alone immediately distracted half the men present again.
Dushala noticed with exhausted satisfaction.
Excellent.
This would be entertaining later.
She gestured toward Duryodhana first.
"This is my eldest brother, Duryodhana," she announced proudly. "Future king of Hastinapur. Terrifying when angry. More terrifying when being protective."
"I dislike these introductions already," Duryodhana muttered.
"You once threatened a sword instructor because he scolded me."
"He insulted you."
"I had thrown a spear through a palace window."
"That window lacked discipline."
Even Devasena looked startled at that.
Dushala pointed triumphantly toward him. "You see? This is what I endured growing up."
Duryodhana merely folded his arms calmly, though faint amusement flickered briefly across his face seeing Devasena trying not to smile.
Then Dushala physically dragged Dushasana forward by the sleeve before he could escape.
"And this menace is Dushasana."
"I deserve better introductions."
"You lost that privilege in childhood."
Dushasana ignored her completely and bowed dramatically toward Devasena instead.
"I would apologize for staring earlier," he informed her honestly, "but unfortunately I remain committed to the experience."
"Dushasana," Duryodhana warned immediately.
"What? Everyone was staring."
"Some people hid it better."
"That sounds like cowardice."
Devasena lowered her gaze briefly, very obviously hiding laughter now.
Which unfortunately encouraged him further.
"You see?" Dushasana declared proudly. "The princess understands me."
"No," Yuyutsu said flatly from behind him. "She pities you."
"That still counts as emotional connection."
Then finally Dushala turned toward Yuyutsu, and unlike the others, her expression softened with immediate fondness.
"And this," she said warmly, "is Yuyutsu. My sane brother. Mostly."
"That is the nicest thing you have ever called me."
"You earned it after surviving Vanga."
Dushasana groaned immediately. "Not this again."
"Yes, this again," Yuyutsu replied without shame. "I warned all of you about her repeatedly."
"You spoke like a man recovering from divine revelation," Dushasana argued.
"Because none of you listened."
Devasena smiled properly then.
Warm.
Familiar.
The kind of smile that came from comfort rather than politeness.
And suddenly the entire atmosphere shifted again.
Because among all the Kuru princes standing there, Yuyutsu alone already belonged naturally inside her ease.
"You survived the return journey?" she asked lightly.
"Barely. Bhima and Arjuna encouraged Dushasana."
"That sounds medically dangerous."
"It was."
Dushasana pointed accusingly between them. "I dislike this alliance already."
"You should," Yuyutsu replied calmly. "Historically our alliances caused structural damage."
"That is true," Devasena admitted softly.
And for one brief moment, something lighter returned to her face.
Not the careful grace of a princess.
Just Devasena.
Young enough to laugh.