"I left, I couldn't stay no more. They were all drunk. Some harsh words were passed on. Some insults were thrown. The next moment swords were unsheathed, the sharp metals sliced through kinsmen by kinsmen. The ground has been drenched with the Yadava blood." he uttered weakly, the lump in his throat forbidding him
from further speech.

She looked up at him, his eyes weary and distant. So that's how it was going to be, their bloodline was to be swept off in an intoxicated brawl.

Her thin fingers found his cold ones, as she intertwined them, some of her always existent warmth seeping into his being. "What about Dau?"

"He went off, presumably into the woods, way before things got out of control." spoke the man of midnight skin, closing his eyes, "What about sister Revati?"

"She was feeling out of sorts since the afternoon, so she retired for the day. She's been sleeping ever since." answered his queen, realization dawning upon her.

The looked into each other's eyes in shock, the truth nowhere ready to settle.

Krishna sat himself on the bedside table, his hands gripping the silken wood too hard. Rukmini sat down in front of him, pressing the edge of her pallu on his forehead, wiping away the sheen of sweat that had collected.

A lone tear escaped his eye, falling onto her drapes. Her free hand cupped his wet cheek, and he leaned into the touch. "It is time, Rukmini, it is time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here I am penning down one of the most dreadful chapters in the history of time, the Mausala Parva. I do not wish to offend anyone by this content. If anybody feels like they are likely to, I request them not to proceed ahead with this. This book will be a culmination of certain folk tales and mostly fiction, to make things seem a bit personal and add a little soul. I will be portraying the characters with humanistic traits, to keep the emotions raw and pure.