The royal court shimmered with gold, fire, and tension. The grand sayembara had begun — The Trial of Balance, where any man who could solve the Riddle of Truth and survive a duel of honor would earn not just the throne beside you… but your heart.
You sat on the dais, dressed in silver and white. Your gaze swept across the hall filled with warriors, sages, and princes. All were bold. Loud. Proud.
Until one man entered — calm, silent, his steps so sure it silenced the whole arena.
Yudhistira.
His presence wasn’t commanding like Bhima’s or dazzling like Arjuna’s — it was… grounding. The kind that made even flames bow.
“So the King of Dharma joins a game of pride?” you teased from your seat. “Have the scriptures run out of verses to keep you occupied?”
He smiled faintly, hands folded in respect.
“Perhaps I wished to learn a new one — written by you.”
Your pulse skipped, and you hated that it did.
The First Trial — The Riddle of Truth
The sage’s voice echoed through the court:
“To be a king is to know truth. So tell us — what truth do you hold above all?”
Contestants gave grand speeches — about power, legacy, conquest. Yudhistira said only one thing:
“That truth does not belong to the loudest voice, but to the quiet heart that listens.”
The hall went silent. Even the sage bowed his head.
You couldn’t help the smile tugging your lips.
“So the king knows how to charm words,” you said. “But can he dance with blades?”
The Second Trial — Duel of Flames
You stepped down from your throne, unsheathing your weapon — a curved blade glowing with blue fire. Gasps erupted.
“The princess herself will duel?”
“A queen must test her own fate,” you replied, smirking at Yudhistira. “Unless the King of Dharma fears losing to a woman.”
“I fear nothing,” he said softly. “Except hurting what I respect.”
The duel began — a swirl of light and steel. You struck first — swift, elegant. He parried with calm precision. Every movement between you felt like rhythm, not violence — as if you were dancing rather than fighting.
Then, mid-swing, your fireblade sparked wild, bursting into flames that roared with divine magic.
“A curse!” someone cried. “The blade reacts to emotion!”
You stumbled back, breathless, the fire threatening to consume your hand — until Yudhistira dropped his weapon and caught your wrist with his bare palm.
The flames… stopped.
His touch was steady, grounding.
“Control comes not from anger,” he whispered, “but from love.”
The fire dimmed to gold. Your eyes met his — and for that heartbeat, the crowd, the war, the gods themselves disappeared.
“You yield?” you breathed.
“Never,” he smiled. “I simply choose peace over victory.”
The sage lifted his staff, voice ringing through the air:
“The duel is over. The one who balanced fire with compassion has already won.”
Later, as the night fell and you walked beside him beneath the temple lamps, you murmured,
“You didn’t come to win me, did you?”
He looked at you, smile gentle as the moon.
“No,” he said. “I came to find the part of my soul I lost lifetimes ago. Turns out, she was standing right in front of me.”
And though neither of you said it aloud, you knew — This wasn’t just a victory. It was destiny meeting its reflection.