Arjuna and Draupadi - After the Humiliation

The fire had burned low. The other brothers slept. Draupadi sat at the forest's edge, staring at nothing, as she had every night since their exile began.

Arjuna approached, wordless, and sat beside her.

Draupadi: "Don't,"

Arjuna: "Don't what?"

Draupadi: "Don't apologize. Don't explain. Don't try to make it better with words."

Arjuna: "I wasn't going to."

Draupadi: "Good. I keep seeing it. Every night. Dushasana's hand in my hair. The court laughing. You—all of you—sitting there like statues."

Arjuna: "We were bound."

Draupadi: "By what? By rules? By honor? By some code that valued Yudhishthira's lost game more than my dignity? You could have picked up your bow. You could have stood. You could have done anything other than nothing."

Arjuna: "Yudhishthira forbade—"

Draupadi: "Yudhishthira gambled me. His forbidding doesn't carry moral weight. You, Arjuna. You were the one I believed in. When I chose you at my swayamvara, I chose the man who could do the impossible. And when I needed the impossible—when I needed one person to stand up—you sat."

Arjuna: "I know."

Draupadi: "I hate you for it."

Arjuna: "I know."

Draupadi: "I hate all of you. And I hate myself for still needing you. For still being bound to this family that could not protect me when I screamed for protection."

Arjuna was silent. There were no words adequate. He had relived that moment a thousand times—the weight of the rules, the shock of what was happening, the paralysis that came from having no precedent, no training for this particular horror.

Arjuna: "I've imagined killing Dushasana, Every night since. I've imagined feeding Duryodhana to the crows. I've imagined—"

Draupadi: "Imagination is cheap. Action is what matters."

Arjuna: "Then action will come. I swear it."

Draupadi: "You swore to protect me at the wedding."

Arjuna: "I failed."

Draupadi: "Yes."

Arjuna: "I won't fail again."

Draupadi: "How can I believe that? How can I believe any of you when you've already shown what your promises are worth?"

Arjuna: "You can't. Not yet. Words won't rebuild trust. Only time. Only action."

Draupadi: "And if I can't wait? If the anger eats me before the revenge comes?"

Arjuna: "Then let it eat you. Don't pretend it away. Don't forgive because forgiveness is expected. Rage, Draupadi. Rage until the rage becomes fuel. And when the time comes, point me at whoever you want destroyed, and watch them fall."

Draupadi: "You'd kill for my anger?"

Arjuna: "I'd kill for your peace. Your anger is just the direction."

Draupadi was quiet for a long moment. Then, hesitantly, she leaned against him. Not forgiveness—not yet—but the exhaustion of holding tension alone.

Draupadi: "I'll never forget,"

Arjuna: "Neither will I."

Draupadi: "And when they're dead—Duryodhana, Dushasana, all of them—will it be enough? Will the memory stop?"

Arjuna: "I don't know. Probably not. Wounds that deep leave scars. Even after the wound heals, the scar remains. You'll remember in your body forever, even when your mind moves on."

Draupadi: "Then what's the point of revenge?"

Arjuna: "The point isn't healing. It's justice. They did something that cannot be undone. But they can be made to pay. Payment isn't erasure—it's balance. It's saying that actions have consequences, that the universe notices, that you were not alone and forgotten."

Draupadi: "Balance."

Arjuna: "The only kind possible. I can't un-watch what I watched. You can't un-feel what you felt. But we can ensure it never happens to anyone else. We can rebuild a kingdom where women are protected by law, not left to the mercy of gamblers and their creditors."

Draupadi: "That's a large promise."

Arjuna: "It's the only promise worth making."

The fire went out. In the darkness, two people sat with grief that had no easy name. Not husband and wife exactly. Not allies exactly. Something more complicated—two people bound by failure, walking toward whatever redemption might still be possible.

Draupadi: "Thank you,"

Draupadi whispered.

Arjuna: "For what?"

Draupadi: "For not pretending it was okay. For not asking me to forgive."

Arjuna: "Forgiveness comes when it comes. Or it doesn't. Either way, my job is the same."

Draupadi: "Which is?"

Arjuna: "To give you the revenge you need. And then help you live past it."

Draupadi: "Can you do both?"

Arjuna: "I'll die trying."

She almost smiled. It wasn't forgiveness. It was the beginning of something that might, eventually, make forgiveness possible.