Chapter 16: The Night She Gave a Name

Night fell slowly.

Stars blinked like shy children above the pine-draped mountain.

Inside the cave, Draupadi fed Agnika mashed berries with her fingers while Bhima told a story about a tiger that ran away from him in fear — which, according to Nakula, was probably a goat.

The mood was light.

But as always, Agnika’s eyes were far away.

Watching everything.

Listening for things no one said.

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Later that night, after the fire dimmed and the cave drifted to sleep, she stirred.

Small fingers curled.

A sigh slipped from her lips.

She didn’t cry.

She simply fell deeper.

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In the dream, she found two boys.

They stood in the corner of a great palace, watching the others train.

One boy — fierce-eyed, proud — held a wooden sword.

The other — quieter, gentle — stared at the stars above the open courtyard.

Nakula and Sahadeva.

But younger.

Watching their older brothers be praised, lifted, crowned with titles.

Watching themselves stay in the shadows.

---

She felt what they never said aloud:

> We were born to a different mother.

We were loved — but not the same.

We were needed — but never first.

And when the world remembers the Pandavas… we will be forgotten.

Agnika felt that sorrow.

Felt how deep it went.

Not loud like Bhima’s grief.

Not angry like Arjuna’s regrets.

But soft… and buried.

Like a song never sung aloud.

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She woke with a gasp.

Tiny fingers clutching the blanket.

Across the cave, Nakula and Sahadeva were just stirring.

Sahadeva blinked. “I had… the oddest dream.”

Nakula nodded. “I was back in Hastinapur. It felt…”

“Lonely,” Sahadeva finished.

They looked at each other.

Then at her.

---

Agnika stood unsteadily on the blanket, wobbling in her little feet.

She looked at both of them.

Eyes wide.

Chest rising and falling like she’d just run through a storm of souls.

And then—softly, almost like it hurt to say:

> “Papa.”

Nakula blinked. “What?”

She pointed at Sahadeva. “Papa.”

Then at Nakula. “Papa.”

Then she ran forward — straight into Sahadeva’s arms, hugging him fiercely around the neck.

He held her, stunned.

Nakula knelt beside them, eyes glassy. “She said it.”

Draupadi sat up from her side of the cave, whispering, “She’s never said that before…”

Arjuna and Bhima both turned.

Yudhishthir opened his eyes.

Even Krishna raised an eyebrow.

---

“She… saw it,” Sahadeva whispered, his hand on her tiny back. “Didn’t she?”

“She did,” Nakula said softly.

> “And she gave us the word

we never dared to ask for.”

---

Bhima chuckled, wiping a suspicious wetness from his eyes. “You two better not get jealous when she starts calling the goats ‘Mama.’”

Arjuna smiled.

Yudhishthir lowered his head in silent prayer.

And Krishna… just watched.

Something quiet in his gaze.

Something deeply, silently proud.

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That night, Agnika fell asleep between the twins.

And for once, in their dreams—

They stood at the center of the palace.

Not forgotten.

Not shadowed.

Just home.

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🧡 End of Chapter 16