Chapter 83: Chapter 81: Won’s Intuition... Gandhari’s New Hobby...
(A/N):
Drop a
here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comnts and power stones... Which will encourage ...
I was thinking about adding local deities too to the story. Any thought about it.
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When Devara ntioned how his kingdom would treat fishern’s.
Satyavati’s expression softened in a way it rarely did in public spaces.
"...."
There was relief there—And sothing deeper.
She had once asked her adoptive father Dashraj to co to Hastinapura to live there.
But he had refused her request.
But now—Without her asking—He had chosen to co here.
To her son’s kingdom.
Yeah even through she was not connected to him through blood.
She fells he was her son too. He healed her heart which was left out by the death of her sons and the weight of her greedy demand.
Which stripped Hastinapura of its future. But now she felt free.
That alone told her everything she needed to know.
She nodded once, a quiet smile forming.
-Nod!
"...."
Then, after a brief silence, she spoke again—more personally this ti.
"There is sothing else."
The shift in her tone drew everyone’s attention again.
"I wish to remain here."
Not as a suggestion. As a decision already made by her after a careful consideration.
"I believe this is the right ti for
to step away... from the politics of Hastinapura."
Her gaze moved briefly toward Bhishma and Vidura—acknowledging what had been, without dwelling on it.
"After your coronation here... and Dhritarashtra’s in Hastinapura... my role there will no longer be needed."
Devara listened without interrupting her.
"...."
On the surface, it was a simple request.
But in his mind—A different layer moved. A mory of his past life, yet known to him through the books he read and shows he watched.
A future where the elders would one day step away entirely... choosing penance over witnessing what was to co the end of the Kuru Lineage.
He said nothing of it.
This was not the mont for shadows.
Instead, he moved closer. Gently took her hands.
If he called her mother—Then that was what she was.
"You don’t need permission,"
He said quietly but his voice carried the conviction behind it.
"Not here."
His grip was firm, but warm.
"You belong here, as much as anyone."
Then, after a brief pause—He added,
"And not just you."
His gaze lifted slightly.
"If Queen Mothers Ambika and Ambalika wish to stay as well... They are welco."
Sothing in his green eyes shifted as he spoke—A depth that suggested he understood more than he was saying.
Rajmata Satyavati saw it.
Not clearly—But enough understand Devara understood her well.
And in that mont—The queen, the strategist, the woman who had shaped dynasties trying very hard to find a stable future for her Kuru Lineage—Faded.
Leaving behind only a mother.
She moved closer—And embraced him showing her thanks in this way.
Not formally. Not restrained. With quiet acceptance.
And when she pulled back—She nodded her head.
-Nod!
A small smile resting on her face.
Because for the first ti in a long while—She wasn’t holding a kingdom together.
She was simply choosing—Where she wished to belong where she could be closer to her fisher communities where she grew up even through she was a royal blood.
For a mont, the conversation seed to settle into quiet understanding.
Then Devara paused rembering sothing.
"...."
Not because sothing in the room demanded it—But because sothing in his mory did.
A shoreline.
The soft murmur of the Yamuna River.
A younger version of himself.
And a younger won who was so beautiful which made him blush when he looked at her—Fierce in spirit, unpolished in manner, yet carrying sothing quietly luminous.
"Yami..."
He murmured under his breath, almost to himself.
The mory sharpened.
The pearl necklace.
Not ordinary—no, even then he had sensed it thanks to his system.
There had been a subtle radiance to it, a quiet blessing, sothing that felt... watched over.
Later, he had co to understand reading the discription of it from the system—it carried the blessing of Yamuna.
Too valuable. Far too valuable.
Especially for soone who didn’t seem to realize what she possessed.
And had passed it to him as a thanks for saving her.
Devara looked up.
"Mother,"
He said, addressing Rajmata Satyavati,
"when your father sends word... could you ask him sothing for ?"
She tilted her head slightly, already curious.
"What is it?"
He hesitated only briefly carefully choosing his words.
"There was a younger won. From the fishing community near the Yamuna. Her na was Yami."
That was enough.
Rajmata Satyavati’s eyebrow lifted imdiately.
"...."
A faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
"Oh?" she said lightly. "And who might she be?"
The tone was playful—but unmistakably probing him for more information.
Across the room, Bhishma went very still.
"...."
"...."
Mahamantri Vidura blinked once... slowly.
-Blink!
Both of them looked at Devara with an expression that hovered sowhere between disbelief and quiet judgnt.
The unspoken thought in the room was loud enough.
’He was just married...’
And now—He was asking about another young woman.
Devara caught their expressions—and couldn’t help it.
He chuckled. A low, unbothered sound.
-Chuckle!
"You’re all misunderstanding,"
He said, shaking his head slightly.
Then, more clearly, he explained.
"When I was younger, I once saved her near the Yamuna river. She thanked ... and gave
this."
He reached into his garnt and brought out the pearl necklace. Which he was still wearing it.
Even in the chamber’s light, it shimred faintly—its glow subtle, but unmistakably divine.
Vidura leaned slightly forward, his gaze sharpening.
"...."
Bhishma’s expression shifted—recognition replacing suspicion.
"This carries a blessing,"
Devara continued with a serious tone.
"Of Goddess Yamuna. I don’t think she knew what she was giving away."
He looked at the necklace for a brief mont, then closed his hand around it.
"It’s too valuable to remain with . It could very well be sothing passed down in her family."
He glanced back at Rajmata Satyavati.
"If she is among those coming here... I would like to return it."
The silence that followed was different this ti.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Not heavy. Not tense. Just... recalibrating the situation.
Rajmata Satyavati’s amused expression softened into sothing more thoughtful.
Bhishma gave a faint nod, as if acknowledging the reasoning.
-Nod!
Vidura, ever practical, simply said,
"Then we will find her."
But the faintest trace of a smile still lingered on Satyavati’s face.
Because even if the explanation made sense—The timing...
Was still remarkable.
"...."
A won’s intuition is the most scariest thing in the world.
And for just a brief mont—Even in the middle of building a kingdom—
The room had been reminded—That Devara was still, in many ways—A boy walking through life...
With stories that refused to stay simple around him.
Away from the council chamber—where kingdoms were being nad and futures decided—the palace had its own quieter, far more human chaos.
In a sunlit courtyard lined with fresh stone pillars and half-blooming creepers,
Shakuni stood with his arms crossed, staring at sothing placed carefully on an easel with a complicated expression on his face.
"...."
That "sothing" was a painting.
And it was... ambitious.
Beside it stood Gandhari, holding a brush with the kind of determination usually reserved for battlefields.
"I’m telling you,"
Shakuni said slowly, choosing his words with exaggerated care trying his best to convince his sister,
"the lion is not supposed to look like it’s... negotiating peace with the sky."
Gandhari narrowed her eyes at him.
"It’s roaring."
Shakuni tilted his head, studying the canvas again.
"If that’s a roar, then I fear for the jungle it rules."
The lion in question did indeed have a crown.
That much was clear.
What it lacked, however, was anything resembling a consistent shape.
One leg seed longer than the others, the mane had taken on a life of its own, and the star above it looked less like guidance and more like it had accidentally wandered into the scene.
Gandhari stepped closer to the painting, frowning in concentration.
-Frown!
"It just needs refinent."
"It needs... diplomacy,"
Shakuni muttered under his breath. Sorry for the lion his sister had just murdered.
She turned sharply with a suspicious look on her face.
"You’re making fun of ."
"I would never,"
He replied instantly—far too quickly to be convincing.
"I am rely observing a... very creative interpretation of reality taking shape before my eyes."
Gandhari scoffed and dipped her brush again.
"You don’t understand art."
Prince Shakuni let out a quiet breath, rubbing his forehead as though preparing himself for a long campaign.
-Sigh!
"Sister, I understand art well enough to recognize when the artist is bravely ignoring all known principles."
"That’s because I’m not copying,"
She shot back with a hurt pride look on her face.
"I’m learning from the scratch."
There was sothing earnest in her tone—stubborn, but sincere.
Prince Shakuni noticed it. And for a mont, the teasing paused.
"...."
He watched as she carefully tried to fix the curve of the lion’s face, her brows furrowed, completely absorbed in the task.
Then he sighed, though there was no real frustration behind it.
-Sigh!
"Fine,"
He said, stepping closer.
"At least start with proportions. The head shouldn’t be smaller than the crown. Even kings need sowhere to sit."
Gandhari hesitated... then adjusted it slightly.
"Like this?"
Shakuni leaned in, examining it with theatrical seriousness.
"...Better,"
He admitted but his tone was calm.
"Marginally less alarming."
She gave him a look—but there was the faintest hint of a smile breaking through.
"...."
"See?"
She said as if she was always right.
"You can help without insulting ."
Shakuni smirked hearing his little sister.
-Smirk!
"I never said I wouldn’t insult you. I’m simply choosing not to—for now."
She rolled her eyes, but continued painting, a little more confident this ti.
And as the afternoon light stretched across the courtyard, the "disaster" slowly began to look... slightly less disastrous.
Not perfect. Not even close.
But—For the first ti—Recognizable than a bland kill of a lion.
And for reasons neither of them would admit aloud—That was enough.
That was how much longer they can correct it up.
By the ti Devara stepped out of the council chamber, the weight of strategy and governance still lingered in his mind—but it didn’t take long for a different kind of sound to pull him away from it.
Voices. Familiar ones. One firm. One teasing.
He followed them into the courtyard—And found Gandhari and Shakuni in the middle of what could only be described as a very serious artistic dispute.
Prince Shakuni had his usual expression—half amused, half exasperated.
Gandhari, on the other hand, stood with a brush in hand, clearly defending her work like it was a matter of principle.
Devara slowed as he approached.
"...."
Neither noticed him imdiately.
"...I am telling you,"
Shakuni was saying,
"if the lion looks like it might apologize after roaring, sothing has gone wrong."
"It does not look like that,"
Gandhari shot back to her brother.
"You just don’t understand what I’m trying to do."
"I understand perfectly,"
He replied with a knowing gleam in his eyes.
"I just don’t agree with it."
That was when they noticed him. Both turned.
"...."
"...."
But Devara didn’t speak right away.
His gaze had already shifted—To the painting.
And then—To the brush in Gandhari’s hand.
And finally—Back to her.
Understanding ca easily.
She was trying to recreate the design he had made the previous night—the kingdom, the symbol, the idea behind it.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
-Chuckle!
That was all it took.
Gandhari’s composure faltered instantly. A faint flush spread across her face.
-Flush!
"I was just—"
She began, then stopped, realizing explanation would only make it worse.
Devara stepped a little closer, his tone light, not critical.
"If you want to learn," he said, "start small."
She looked at him, still slightly embarrassed, but listening.
"Simple shapes first,"
He continued to explain where to start first.
"Lines. Proportions. Once those feel natural, the rest follows."
There was no judgnt in his voice.
Only guidance for his wife.
Gandhari hesitated, then gave a small nod.
-Nod!
Devara reached toward the palette beside her, picked up a bit of yellow color—then, without warning—Lightly tapped it onto her nose.
For a second—She froze caught off guard by the sudden attack.
"...."
Then—Her eyes widened. And her entire face turned red.
"You—!"
But whatever she intended to say dissolved halfway.
With a small, flustered huff, she turned and walked off—quickly—clearly choosing escape over recovery.
Shakuni watched her go—Then burst into laughter.
"-Hahahaha!!!"
"Now that,"
He said, barely containing his amusent,
"was the most effective critique I’ve seen today."
Devara simply smiled faintly, setting the color back down.
The painting still stood there.
Still imperfect. Still uneven.
But now—It carried sothing new.
A beginning of Gandhari’s interest in learning painting.
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(Author note:)
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your opinion and idea’s.
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