Viraah

~*~|| Blast from the Past ||~*~

Matsya Pradesh [Six months Ago]

Hastinapur's massive army lay groaning in various stages of utter annihilation on the battlefield of Matsya Pradesh. 

Chariots were overturned, horses mangled, flags severed, elephants dead and men were strewn all around in mutilated parts, wheezing with dying breaths. 

The sky was lit in a brilliant shade of vermillion as the heat of the aftermath of the war, clogged everyone's breath painfully. The distant screech of vultures could be heard from the direction of the barren wastelands at the east, used primarily as a cemetery. 

Prince Uttar was leaning against his chariot's wheel, panting with breathlessness as he surveyed the horrific scene ahead with wide eyes. He still hadn't registered the fact that the woman whom he had pestered for stories of the enigmatic third Pandava prince would turn out to be that very man, himself. 

He still couldn't figure out how he was a woman, to be honest. 

Holy shit! Uttara's dance teacher was Savyasachi Arjun. 

That meant the Pandavas and their wife, Draupadi were hiding in their palace all these months?

The second thing which the young prince still couldn't process was that he had basically witnessed Arjun, who was still a woman for some incomprehensible reason, single handedly decimate the Kaurava forces. 

He himself had just been a paltry excuse of a charioteer. 

The unbelievable exploits of Vijaya had always intrigued and amazed the royals of Aryavarta and propelled many a prince and noble into hero worshipping and aspiring to be at least an inch worth of him but this... 

This, Viratanandan, wouldn't have even been able to conjure in his wildest dreams. 

Brihannala, as she still was, has routed the Bravehearts of Hastinapur, the entourage of the greatest super warriors of their era with hilarious ease and a rage which had been downright petrifying to behold. 

Her scream of fury brought Uttar's blurring attention back on his companion and he watched with rising panic as the dusky skinned slender waisted warrior dragged Dusashan's battered bleeding body by a fistful of his hair, through his scattered army, like the mighty Kaurava prince weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. 

Brihannala threw him with a characteristic graceful move, on the ground, in the clearing at front. 

The irony wasn't lost on Uttara's brother as he recounted the horrifying tale his mother had told him, of how the fiend had dragged the Queen Yagyasaini into the Kuru court by her hair. 

The war for protection of Matsya had ended long before.

This was pure vengeance. 

Uttar saw Duryodhan's and his cronies' filthy blood streaked faces paling with the same realisation. They were lying helplessly paralyzed by their rival's mystical weapons, struggling to move in vain as one of them was dragged into certain slaughter by the looks of it.