This is a Mahabharata fanfiction...
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In the realm of three interconnected kingdoms - Hastinapur, Gandhar, and Kuntiboj - a tale unfolds that weaves together the fates of diverse charac...
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Sakuni carried Aditya through the grand corridors. The palace was alive with the sounds of distant chatter and the rustling of servants’ garments as they moved through the hallways. Aditya leaned against Sakuni's shoulder, his small hands clutching the folds of his mamasheee's robe, seeking comfort from his familiar presence.
They entered the family room, a spacious hall adorned with rich tapestries and intricate carvings. The royal family was gathered there, engaged in quiet discussions. The atmosphere was warm but subdued, with everyone sharing the underlying concern for Aditya's well-being. When they saw Sakuni enter with the young prince in his arms, their expressions shifted to a mix of relief and curiosity.
Gandhari, blindfolded but ever perceptive, immediately sensed her son's presence. "Aditya?" she said, reaching out with open arms.
Aditya slipped from Sakuni's grasp and ran to Gandhari, hugging her tightly. Her embrace was gentle yet firm, and she stroked his hair as she bent down to his level. "Are you okay, my son? What happened? Why did you call out for me?" she asked, her voice filled with maternal concern.
Other family members gathered around, their questions overlapping as they sought answers. Bhishma, the family's patriarch, leaned in with a furrowed brow. "Aditya, did someone try to harm you?" he asked, his voice both gentle and stern.
Dritharastra, his father, was quick to ask, "Putra, what happened? were you scared? You can tell us." His tone was gentle, but the underlying concern was clear.
Vidur and the others also expressed their concern, their questions reflecting their care for the young prince.
Aditya felt overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. He wanted to tell them about what he saw, the pain he saw his mother endure, but when he tried to speak, it was as if something prevented him from saying the words. His throat tightened, and the memory of the vision seemed to blur the lines between reality and the surreal.
He looked up at his Pitamah, Bhishma, hoping he could find the words to explain what he saw, but nothing came out. He then turned to Pandu, his Chote Pitashree, and tried to speak, but again, no words formed. Finally, he looked at Gandhari, his mother, who was waiting patiently for him to speak. He tried once more, but his voice faltered, as if an invisible force held him back from revealing what he had witnessed.
Frustration washed over him, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes again. He clung to Gandhari, burying his face in her robes, his young mind struggling with the intense emotions swirling within him. His confusion was evident, but he felt powerless to explain it.
Sakuni, observing Aditya's distress, stepped in to address the family's concerns. "We shouldn't press him for answers if he doesn't want to talk about it," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "He's been through a lot, and pushing him will only make things worse. Let's give him time to process whatever happened."
The family nodded in agreement, understanding that forcing Aditya to speak might only cause more stress. Gandhari held her son close, her touch calming him, even as she felt his reluctance to discuss what he'd experienced.
