Viraah

~*~|| Apprehension ||~*~

But more than most, he mourned what the years had done to the youngest Kaunteya. 

Phalguna had always been the quietest amongst his siblings. Not even his Sahadeva's gentleness could compete when the madhya Pandava would go into one of his oft repeated, self imposed, maun vrat.

Yet the son of Indra, had one of the most exuberant laughs, the oldest Kaunteya has ever seen.

His smile could put the very sun to shame. 

His repertoire of witty one liners and carefully balanced sarcasm was used wisely and rarely but it never failed to delight his co conversationists.

The King of Indraprastha, remembered fondly of the days when the small, lanky, dark skinned youth with a head full of raven curls, would follow him around, like a duckling behind a mother duck, asking unending questions. 

His little thunderbolt, he used to call him. 

His insatiable curiosity was tempered with his unending faith in the careful answers his Jyestha would provide him with.

The merciless ravages of time, their entwined turbulent destinies, and his own trials and tribulations, have seemed to suck the very soul out of Dhananjaya.

His once bright, silver grey blue eyes, full of light and wonder had dulled into a milky moss of pale cyan and would only sharpen with the scent of death and mayhem. 

The innumerable scars littering his swarthy athletic body, which had once been a mark of pride, now stood out in silver maps of agony. 

His still luscious raven curls, even if some hidden streaks of grey caught the sunlight sometimes, showed but the stress of his penance and not the gentle wizened aging, he deserved. 

His face, still beautiful, still handsome in all it's chiselled glory, had lost any and all marks of that oblivious innocence that had endeared the son of Shakra to all who had the honour of meeting him - friends, foes, Gods and monsters alike.

The once much adorable fullness of his youthful cheeks had caved in hollow. It may have made his appearance more rakish, thus more appealing to the fairer sex, but the oldest Panduputra could only see it mournfully, as cadaverous.

Amongst all his brothers, his Partha had suffered the most. And the worst.

Having spend most of his life as an ascetic and the remaining in unending wars fought for both Hastinapura and later Indraprastha, it has taken too costly a toll for him to merely keep standing let alone be the beacon of light that he had always been, for his brothers. 

Yudhishtira knew that most days, it was the mere presence of Sabyasachi, in their ranks, that sustained the flickering lamp of hope in their soldiers' minds.

But how long can his selfless brother carry around the disproportionately humongous weight of such a massive responsibility.

As his wise eyes met Phalguna's exhausted gaze, from across the table, for the first time since what felt like forever, he felt a frisson of fear.

But what, even the most righteous of the mortals to have ever walked on Earth couldn't predict, was that it would happen so soon.

That he will have to endure what no older sibling, no parent, should ever have to see.

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Unbeknownst to their leader's dank musings, the rest of the Pandavas, along with their Generals were in a deep discussion on the next course of action to be taken on the morrow.