(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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After staying for a night at Surasena Kingdom both Bhishma and Devara departed from there and took the Bhishma's army from the borders towards the Gandhara Kingdom.
It took them nearly more than half a day of travel to arrive at the Borders of Gandhara kingdom nearly at the evening.
The journey ended where the land rose.
Jagged peaks. Narrow passes.
The Kingdom of Gandhara stood—Guarded not by walls alone—But by mountains themselves.
The air was cooler. Sharper.
Forests clung to stone.
Birds circled high.
Hidden paths and caves whispered of:
🧘 sages in meditation
🐾 wild beasts roaming free
🍯 rare mountain honey
Devara's eyes sparkled. As he taking in the breath taking view of the mountains.
-Sparkles!
"…This place feels different."
Bhishma didn't reply. Because he felt it too.
"...."
Not beauty like Devara.
But Resistance.
The army halted at the borders.
As per the protocol.
Bhishma's chariot moved ahead—Escorted.
Watched.
Until—The palace gates opened.
And there—Stood the ruler of Gandhara.
King Subala
Beside him—His queen.
And behind—A line. Of princes. Ninety-nine.
Eyes sharp.
Unwelcoming beneath politeness.
Bhishma stepped down.
Calm. Unshaken.
"...."
Devara followed—Looking around curiously.
Then—Smiled at them.
"…Hi."
A pause.
"…I'm Devaratha. Ganga putra[1]. And his brother."
He pointed at Bhishma.
The princes exchanged glances. Not impressed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
But intrigued. No time wasted.
Meeting Chamber...
They were led inside—To the meeting chamber.
No feasts. No pleasantries.
Just—Purpose.
Devara sat quietly.
But unlike before—He felt it. The air. Heavy. Sharp.
'…They don't like this… Clearly written on their face.'
Bhishma spoke first. Direct.
"Why was the proposal declined?"
No softness. No diplomacy.
King Subala looked at his sons.
"...."
They nodded. Then—He spoke.
-Nod!
"Our daughter does not accept it."
A pause.
"And neither do we."
The princes stepped forward slightly.
"We will not give our sister …to a blind man."
No disguise. No sugar. Just truth straight to the face of Bhishma.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Silence fell.
But not empty. Heavy.
Because now—Respect had thinned. And pride stood exposed between two sides.
Bhishma's eyes narrowed. Just slightly. Enough.
When he spoke—His voice carried weight.
"The marriage…"
A pause.
"…will take place."
The room stiffened.
"And I will ensure it."
The words struck.
Not only as a threat shouted—But also as a promise made.
Unyielding. Absolute.
Subala's expression hardened.
The princes stepped forward in anger hearing Bhishma's words.
Tension rose—Like a drawn blade. It reached its edge.
Voices sharpened. Hands tightened at their swords.
Bhishma stood like a drawn blade—And Gandhara stood like a wall that refused to bend.
And in that razor-thin moment—
-Tap.
A small sound.
Devara's fingers against the table.
Soft.
Yet—It cut through everything. All eyes turned.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Devara looked at Bhishma.
Not afraid. Not hesitant.
Just… questioning.
"Why are you disrespecting a woman?"
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Not shock. Not confusion.
But something deeper.
Because no one—Had framed it like that.
Bhishma turned fully toward him.
His voice steady.
"You do not understand brother."
A pause.
"Princess Gandhari holds a boon. From Lord Shiva. She will bear a hundred sons."
The princes of Gandhara stiffened slightly.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Because this—Was their sister. Reduced to—A solution.
Bhishma continued with a heavy tone.
"The Kuru lineage suffers. Weak heirs. Uncertain future. For the greater good—"
A pause.
"She must marry into it."
The words were firm.
Logical. Unyielding. According to him.
Devara blinked. Once. Twice. Caught off guard by his open declaration.
Inside his mind—A strange comparison surfaced.
'…For the greater good…'
A phrase he had heard before.
In his previous life. From another old man a certain character from one of the famous movie series Harry Potter.
A man who believed he knew best.
Who justified everything—With that same logic.
Devara sighed. Soft. Disappointed.
-Sigh!
"...."
Bhishma frowned slightly.
-Frown!
That reaction—Was not what he expected.
'…Did he not understand? …Agree? …Admire?"
Instead—He saw disappointment.
From a child.
Devara tilted his head. Then spoke.
"So…"
A pause.
"Because she can give something… She doesn't get to choose?"
The words were simple.
But they landed heavier than any argument.
The princes of Gandhara—Straightened caught off guard by the sudden support.
Not in defiance—But in recognition.
"...."
Because someone—Had finally said it plainly.
Devara continued his question to Bhishma.
"If someone forces her… Then it's not marriage."
A pause.
"…it's taking by force. Then what's the difference between us and rakshasa[2] "
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Absolute. Even the air seemed to retreat.
For the first time—Bhishma did not respond immediately.
Because this—Was not strategy.
Not politics. Not dharma as he understood it.
This was—Perspective.
Unfiltered. Uncompromising.
He is in difficult position to find the suitable answer for Devara's question.
King Subala watched closely.
The princes leaned in slightly but didn't speak since they too was little stunned by how bold the little kid was.
The silence lingered.
Heavy. Measured.
After Devara's question—No one rushed to answer.
Because he hadn't attacked with his words. He had… asked questions.
Devara lifted his hand again.
Not to interrupt—But to guide them and show the right path.
"Then let's ask her."
The room shifted slightly.
"Call Princess Gandhari."
A pause.
"Ask her what she wants."
Simple. Direct.
"If she says yes—then okay. If she says no—then respect it."
He pointed at Bhishma. Not accusing. But firm.
"We're not that low …to force someone to marry."
The words hung. Not loud. But undeniable.
Subala's grip on his seat eased slightly.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The princes exchanged glances—Hope flickering where tension once stood.
Bhishma's jaw tightened.
His mind moved quickly—Duty. Lineage. Future.
'…The Kuru line …The greater good…'
He was about to refuse.
Then—Devara spoke again. Casually.
Almost like an afterthought.
"If not…"
A pause.
"…I'll tell Mother."
Silence. Absolute.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Not just any mother.
Goddess Ganga
Bhishma's birth mother too. The river that raised him.
The force that did not argue—It overwhelmed.
For the first time—Bhishma's expression changed.
"...."
Not anger. Not authority.
But—Concern.A very real one.
'…She warned me… before I brought him… Do not let him be wronged…'
And now—This.
Bhishma closed his eyes briefly.
"...."
Weighing:
Duty to Kuru Respect for dharma Consequences of refusal And… Mother Ganga's wrath
Then—Another thought surfaced.
'…Madra…'
Another alliance. Another option.
'…Then why not…'
Bhishma opened his eyes. Calm again. Resolved.
"Very well."
The words fell—And the room exhaled.
-Sigh!
"Princess Gandhari will be called. Her decision…"
A pause.
"…will be respected."
King Subala leaned back slightly.
"...."
The princes relaxed—Not fully.
But enough.
Because for the first time—They were not being cornered.
They were being heard.
Devara nodded. Satisfied.
-Nod
"…That's better."
He leaned back in his seat—As if he had just fixed something simple.
Gandhari's Chamber...
In her chamber—Gandhari stood before a Shiva linga.
Hands folded. Eyes closed.
Her prayer was not long—But it was steady.
A servant arrived. Whispered to the maid.
The maid looked at her—
"Princess… they are calling you."
Gandhari paused.
"...."
Not in fear. In resolve.
She completed her prayer. Then turned.
And walked towards the meeting room.
Meeting Room...
The meeting hall held its breath.
On one side—Subala and his sons. Still. And alert.
"...."
"...."
"...."
On the other—Bhishma. Unmoved. Still in thought
And beside him—Devara.
Swinging his feet slightly. Watching.
The doors opened.
Gandhari entered. Calm. Graceful.
But beneath it—A storm held in perfect control.
She bowed first to her father. Then her brothers.
Then—
"Mahamahim Bhishma."
Respectful. Unbroken.
Bhishma did not delay any longer.
"Princess."
A pause.
"Are you willing to accept this marriage alliance?"
No pressure in tone. But weight in meaning.
Gandhari stood still.
Seconds passed. Then more.
"...."
Because this answer—Would not only decide her life.
It would decide many others.
She lifted her gaze. Voice steady.
"I do not wish to marry."
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
But she continued.
"Not because the prince is blind."
A pause.
"But because…"
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"…I believe I will find my love."
Her voice softened—But did not break.
"With the blessings of Mahadev[3]."
The words landed gently—But their meaning was immovable.
Subala exhaled slowly.
-Sigh!
"...."
The princes stood taller. Not in defiance—But in relief.
Bhishma closed his eyes briefly. Not in defeat.
But in acceptance.
'This is her will. …And now… it has been spoken.'
He opened his eyes. And spoke.
"Very well."
A pause.
"The alliance …is withdrawn."
Devara leaned back slightly.
"…Good."
Simple. Satisfied.
As the tension faded—A familiar pulse echoed in Devara's mind.
[–DUM!–DUM!–]
🎯 [Major Event Completed...]
[Prevented forced marriage of Gandhari.]
🎁 [Reward Granted: +500 Karma Points]
⚖️ [Updated Karma Balance...]
[Previous: 3525
Gained: +500
Total: 4025 Points]
Devara blinked seeing how much karma points he gained for this.
"…That's a lot."
He leaned back slightly.
'…Changing big things gives big points…'
A small smile appeared. Not greedy.
Just… understanding.
Bhishma rose from his seat. Calm. Resolved.
"The matter is concluded."
A pause.
"We will take our leave."
No bitterness. No argument. Just closure.
But before he could move—King Subala stepped forward.
"Mahamahim…"
A pause.
"Stay."
The room stilled again.
"Tonight… is my daughter's birthday."
His tone softened—Not political. Personal.
"Let there be no bitterness between us."
Bhishma paused. This was not expected.
A few moments ago—They stood on opposite ends of a blade.
And now—An invitation.
To stay. To share. To acknowledge peace.
He glanced briefly at Devara.
"...."
Who was already nodding signalling him to accept it.
"…We should stay."
Of course he was.
Bhishma exhaled softly.
Sigh!
Then—
"Very well."
A pause.
"We accept your hospitality."
The room changed again.
This time—Warm.
Smiles appeared on the faces of the princes relaxed.
Not as enemies. But as hosts.
The tension had dissolved—Replaced by something unfamiliar.
Calm.
The crown prince stepped forward—
"This way, Mahamahim."
Bhishma nodded calmly.
-Nod
"...."
Devara followed—Still looking around curiously.
They were escorted through stone corridors—Cool.
Echoing.
Until they reached the guest chambers.
Spacious. Simple.
Yet carrying the quiet pride of Gandhara.
Devara hopped onto a seat.
Meanwhile...
Far from the palace—Deep within the mountains.
High on a rocky cliff—Stood Shakuni.
Focused. Precise.
Before him—A massive beehive.
Golden. Heavy. Alive with buzzing fury.
He wrapped himself tightly—Layers of thick cloth.
Prepared.
Then—Fire.
Smoke rose—Curling into the hive.
The bees scattered—Angered. Confused.
But Shakuni did not flinch. He climbed.
"...."
Step by step—Until he reached it.
Blade in hand—Slice.
The hive broke free. Heavy. Dripping golden sweetness.
He descended carefully—Carrying it down.
Where soldiers waited since the prince as commended them to wait here.
For his sister he need to bring it himself.
They worked together—Extracting the honey.
Slowly. Carefully.
Until—A pot was filled.
Brimming.
Pure mountain honey.
Shakuni looked at it. A faint smile forming.
"She'll like this."
Simple.
Not political. Not cunning.
Just—A brother.
With the pot secured—He began his journey back.
Through the same rugged paths.
The same silent mountains.
Unaware—That while he climbed cliffs—Something far greater had shifted in his kingdom.
Because the disaster—The hatred—The chain of destruction—That once began here—Had already been cut.
Before he even returned.
Meanwhile...
The market of Gandhara bustled—
Voices overlapped. Coins clinked.
Merchants called out—And somewhere within the flow—Two figures stood.
Still. Hooded. Listening.
"…They say her eyes alone—"
"…could make any man fall in love—"
"…Princess Gandhari is unmatched…"
The words drifted. Carried like sweet poison.
The two figures said nothing.
"...."
"...."
"...."
But their heads turned—Slowly.
Toward the palace. They walked away.
Not hurried. Not suspicious.
Until—The crowd thinned. The noise faded.
And silence returned.
There—They stopped.
The hoods fell.
Two figures emerged. Not human. Rakshasas[4].
Kaalvakra.
Two twisted horns,
Burning red eyes, A grin lined with jagged teeth
Ekanetra.
A single horn at the center of his forehead, Long curved fangs,
Eyes that lingered… too long
They were brothers.
Creatures of hunger. Living off stolen cattle.
Feeding where they pleased.
Kaalvakra chuckled low.
-Chuckle!
"Eyes that can make men fall…"
Ekanetra licked his fang slowly.
-Lick!
"I want to see them."
A pause.
"…Up close."
Not admiration. Not curiosity. Something darker.
Royal palace is transformed.
Lamps lit every corridor.
Music drifted through the halls.
Guests arrived in waves—Nobles. Allies.
The night pulsed with life.
Dancers moved in rhythm.
Sages offered blessings.
But not everyone stayed within the noise.
Devara slipped away.
Quietly. Curiously.
His feet carried him to the palace garden—A place untouched by celebration.
Flowers bloomed under moonlight.
Fragrance filled the air.
The wind moved gently—Unlike the restless mountains.
"…Nice."
Devara whispered in awe.
Then—A voice.
"Who's there?"
Devara moved toward the sound.
"...."
And there—Under a tree—Sat Gandhari.
Not as a princess. Not as a political figure.
Just—A girl. Taking a breath.
She looked up.
Surprised.
Because the one who approached—Was not a guard. Not a servant.
But the same boy at the meeting chamber.
Who according to what her father said spoke on her behalf.
"…Oh."
Devara smiled.
"I'm Devaratha."
A pause.
"But everyone calls me Devara."
Gandhari's expression softened.
"Devara…"
She nodded slightly.
-Nod!
"What are you doing here?"
Devara looked around.
"I saw the garden. So I came."
A pause.
"…It's peaceful."
Gandhari smiled faintly hearing him.
"It is."
Then—Devara's eyes dropped.
To her hands.
"...."
Holding something delicate.
Small. Carefully shaped.
A flower.
Made of fallen leaves.
He leaned closer to take a look at it.
"…Did you make that?"
Gandhari chuckled softly.
-Chuckle!
Not regal. Not distant. Just… warm.
"Yes."
She looked at it. Turning it gently between her fingers.
"It helps pass time."
A pause.
"When I think too much."
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(Author note:)
I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea's.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone too!!!
Guys it will motivate me more?
[1] Son Of Ganga
[2] Demon
[3] Lord Shiva
[4] Demon