Dust swirled around Hastinapura's outer gate, kicked up by a dry midday wind that tugged at the edges of a cloudless sky. The city's stone walls loomed high, their gray faces weathered but proud, casting long shadows over the guards in bronze armor who stood at attention. Their spears clinked as they stepped aside, parting like a river around a rock, their helmets glinting in the sun. Kunti strode through the gap, her crimson sari faded from months in the wild but tied neatly around her waist, its hem brushing the dirt. Sahadeva perched on her hip, his small arms wrapped around her neck, his fair curls bouncing as he peeked at the towering gates. Nakula clutched her free hand, his tiny fingers dusty from the trek, his steps quick to match hers, his dark eyes wide with wonder.
Yudhishthira walked beside her, a stick in his hand tapping a steady rhythm against the ground, his patched tunic clean despite the journey, though it hung a little short at the wrists. His dark hair was tied back, and he hummed softly, his voice low and thoughtful as he glanced at the guards. Bhima lumbered behind, a sack of roots slung over his broad shoulder, his boots kicking pebbles that scattered against the guards' feet with little pings. His dark curls stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he grinned wide, his teeth flashing as he took in the city. Arjuna brought up the rear, adjusting his bow with a quick tug, the arrows in his quiver rattling as he shifted them. His small hands moved with purpose, his sharp eyes darting to every corner, his tunic flapping slightly as he kept pace.
The crowd beyond the gate stirred, a ripple of murmurs spreading as heads turned. Bhishma stepped forward, his silver armor catching the sunlight in a blaze of reflected gold, his gray hair tied tight behind him. He spread his arms wide, bowing just enough to show respect, and his voice boomed across the open space, warm and firm. "Kunti, daughter! Pandu's sons, welcome home! Hastinapura's gates open for you at last!"
Kunti stopped, shifting Sahadeva's weight as she met Bhishma's gaze, her voice steady but carrying a sharp edge. "Home, Bhishma? We'll see. It's been a forest for us till now." She tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she waited.
Bhishma's smile widened, his hands dropping to his sides as he stepped closer, his armor clanking faintly. "A forest raised you strong, I see. Look at these boys! Pandu's blood shines in every one." He turned, his eyes lingering on Yudhishthira's poised stance, Bhima's broad frame, Arjuna's bow, and the twins' fair faces, his pride glowing like the sun overhead.
Yudhishthira tapped his stick once more, then tucked it under his arm, his voice calm and clear as he looked up at Bhishma. "Strong's good, sir. Father taught us that. But what's this place to us? We've only heard stories." He tilted his head, his dark eyes steady, waiting for an answer.
Bhima laughed, a big, rumbling sound that rolled through the crowd, and he dropped the sack with a thud that sent dust puffing up around his boots. "Big gates, huh? I could knock 'em down if they don't let us in proper!" He flexed his arms, his grin stretching wider as a few guards flinched, their spears shifting in their hands.
Arjuna snorted, adjusting his bow again as he stepped beside Bhima, his voice quick and sharp. "Knock 'em down? I'd shoot the locks off first! Faster that way." He mimed an arrow flying, his small fingers flicking the air, his eyes glinting with mischief.
Kunti turned her head, her voice firm but warm as she glanced back at them. "No knocking, Bhima. No shooting, Arjuna. We're here to walk in, not break in. Mind yourselves." She shifted Sahadeva higher, his small hands tugging at her sari as he giggled softly.
Nakula let go of her hand, skipping forward a step, his voice soft and bright as he looked up at Bhishma. "Big man! You've got horses here? I want to see 'em!" Sahadeva nodded against Kunti's shoulder, his quieter voice adding, "Horses big? Like ours?"
Bhishma chuckled, a deep, rolling sound that softened his stern face, and he bent slightly, his armor creaking as he smiled at the twins. "Horses aplenty, little ones. Bigger than your forest colts, I'd wager. You'll see them soon enough." He straightened, his hand gesturing toward the palace rising beyond the gate, its spires catching the midday light.
From a raised platform at the gate's edge, Dhritarashtra stood, his dark tunic stiff and freshly pressed, his staff tapping nervously against the wood beneath his feet. His blind eyes twitched under heavy brows, and he forced a smile, his lips tight as he gripped the staff harder. His voice came out gruff and strained, barely carrying over the crowd's hum. "Pandu's boys. Fine, fine. Come in, then. No need to linger out here." He waved a hand, his fingers stiff, and the staff tapped faster, a sharp little rhythm that betrayed the calm he tried to show.
Kunti's eyes flicked to him, her smile gone as she took a step forward, her voice steady but cool. "Lingering's not our way, Dhritarashtra. We've walked far enough to know when to stop." She adjusted Sahadeva again, her grip tightening on Nakula's hand as she moved past Bhishma, her sari brushing the dust.
Bhishma fell into step beside her, his arm sweeping out as he spoke, his voice warm and sure. "This way, Kunti. The palace waits—Pandu's sons belong here, where their father's name still echoes. You'll see." He glanced at Yudhishthira, nodding slightly, then at Bhima, his eyes widening a fraction at the boy's size.
Yudhishthira kept pace, his stick tapping again as he looked at Bhishma, his voice thoughtful and quiet. "Echoes are good, sir. But we're not echoes. We're here now—us. What's that mean for this place?" He tilted his head, his small frame straight, his words hanging in the air.
Bhima lumbered along, kicking another pebble that bounced off a guard's boot, his voice loud and cheerful. "Means trouble if they don't feed us! I'm starving—where's the food around here?" He patted the sack, grinning as a few onlookers laughed, their murmurs growing as they pointed at his broad shoulders.
Arjuna jogged to catch up, his arrows rattling as he grinned, his voice sharp and quick. "Food's fine, Bhima, but I want a target! Big man, you got anything to shoot at?" He looked at Bhishma, his small hands itching on his bow, his eyes bright with excitement.
Bhishma laughed again, clapping Arjuna on the shoulder as they walked, his voice warm and firm. "Targets, yes, boy. Plenty for a sharp eye like yours. You'll have your chance soon." He glanced at Kunti, his smile softening as he added, "Pandu's spirit lives in them—bold, quick, steady. Hastinapura's lucky to have them back."
Kunti's lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through as she glanced at her sons, her voice low and warm. "Lucky or not, they're mine. We'll see what this city makes of them." She shifted Sahadeva, his small hand patting her cheek, and she pressed on, the crowd parting around them like water.
Dhritarashtra trailed behind, his staff tapping faster now, his forced smile slipping as he muttered to a guard beside him, his voice gruff and low. "Five of them. Just five. What's that to my hundred? Nothing—nothing at all." He gripped the staff until his knuckles paled, his blind eyes twitching as Bhima's laugh boomed again, drowning his words.
The guard shifted, his armor clanking as he nodded, his voice careful and quiet. "Big one's loud, my lord. And that bow—sharp-looking. Folk are talking already." He glanced at the crowd, where murmurs rippled like wind through grass, heads turning to watch the Pandavas pass.
Bhima dropped the sack again, stretching his arms with a groan, his voice loud and bold. "Talking? Good! Let 'em talk—I'll give 'em more to say! Where's that palace, big man?" He grinned at Bhishma, his dark curls bouncing as he picked up the sack, swinging it easily.
Arjuna laughed, skipping beside him, his voice quick and teasing. "More to say? Like how you eat everything? I'll shoot something before you smash it—watch me!" He aimed his bow at a fluttering bird overhead, his small frame buzzing with energy.
Yudhishthira glanced back, his stick pausing as he smiled, his voice calm and steady. "No shooting birds, Arjuna. Not yet. We're walking in, like Mother said. Let's see this place first." He turned to Kunti, his dark eyes meeting hers, a quiet question in them.
Kunti nodded, her voice firm but soft as she squeezed Nakula's hand. "See it, yes. Then we'll know. Keep walking, my loves—east ends here." She stepped onto the main road, the palace rising ahead, its walls a golden blur in the midday sun.
Nakula tugged her hand, his voice soft and bright as he pointed, his small feet skipping. "Big house! Horses inside?" Sahadeva giggled, his quieter voice adding, "Big doors! We go in?"
Bhishma walked beside them, his armor glinting as he nodded, his voice warm and sure. "In you go, little ones. Horses, doors, all of it—Hastinapura's yours now. Pandu's sons, home at last." He gestured ahead, his hand steady, his pride glowing as he led them forward.
Dhritarashtra lingered at the platform's edge, his staff tapping a frantic beat, his mutter low and gruff as he turned to the guard again. "Home, he says. Pandu's boys—fine. But my hundred rule here. Five won't change that." His smile returned, tight and forced, as he followed, his dread coiling beneath it, the air thick with tension.
The crowd pressed closer, their murmurs rising—Bhima's size, Arjuna's bow, the twins' curls, Yudhishthira's calm—all of it swirling into a hum that followed the Pandavas down the road. Kunti's resolve hardened, her steps firm as she led her sons, Bhishma's welcome a shield, Dhritarashtra's unease a shadow trailing behind, their arrival a bold mark on Hastinapura's heart.