The evening sun cast long golden rays over the sprawling palace gardens of Hastinapur, where Duryodhana, Shakuni, and Karna sat in the inner courtyard, speaking in hushed but intense tones.
Shakuni's eyes glinted. "The court is restless. Murmurs echo in every corner—will it be Yudhisthir or Duryodhana? But if we have you, Karna, with your unmatched skill and loyalty, the throne will naturally tip toward my nephew."
Karna sat upright, his expression unreadable. "If I'm to be used as a weapon, then speak clearly. Do you want justice, or do you want revenge?"
Duryodhana's jaw tensed. "I want what's mine, Karna. What was denied to me. But if you're hesitant... if you wish to walk toward your brothers—"
Karna raised a hand, silencing him. "Don't question my loyalty. You gave me a place in the world when no one else would. But don't pretend this war will leave us whole. I'll stand by you—but not blindly."
A beat of silence passed. Then, Duryodhana softened. "I would never force you. But you are the only one who made me feel like I was not beneath the Pandavas. No matter what the future holds… we're brothers too, Karna."
The words lingered in the air, heavy with sincerity and pain—spoken from one heart to another, forged not by blood but by loyalty.
---
Elsewhere, in the serenity of her private chamber, Subhadra sat by the window as the moon climbed high. The breeze stirred her silks, and she pressed her fingers lightly against the sill.
"I know what I am," she thought. "Born of divine light, crafted by Yogmaya's will… but I still ache, still yearn. Loving Arjun was never against fate—it was fate. But fate doesn't promise happiness, does it?"
She sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I've seen this story unfold in many forms. Still, when Draupadi looked at me, all I wanted was to say, 'We're not rivals. We're threads of the same cloth.'"
Her gaze drifted downward—to the palace gardens bathed in moonlight. A familiar figure stood alone among the flowering trees, the gold of his kavach reflecting the moon like a silent beacon.
Karna.
Something tugged at her spirit.
---
She walked toward him silently, feet barely touching the ground. He didn't hear her approach—not until she spoke.
"Vaikartana."
Karna turned, startled. His brows furrowed in confusion. "You... how do you know that name?"
She smiled gently and did not answer.Karna did not have enough time to waste.
"Call me what you wish. Words have changed little of who I am."
Subhadra folded her hands. "Then I choose to call you brother."
Karna blinked. "What did you say?"
She leaned forward, her voice soft but resolute. "I know. Everything. Who you are. Who you were. And who you wish to be."
Karna's mask wavered. "Your husband—he is the one I was born to fight."
"And yet here we are," she said, "talking like two souls who once shared the stars."
He chuckled, a genuine sound for the first time in weeks. "You speak like Krishna."
She smirked, "Well, I am his sister."
They sat in companionable silence. Birds chirped, and the breeze carried the scent of jasmine.
"Subhadra," he said finally, his voice low. "If I had a sister... I would want her to be like you."
She reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "And if I had another brother, I would want him to be like you. Loyal. Brave. And just as heartbreakingly human."
In that moment, the weight of war lifted slightly off Karna's chest. Even if only for a while.
Karna also had a feeling that Vrushali was going to love this pure girl as well.
In the palace, Duryodhana waited. The court would sit again tomorrow. And the battle for the throne of Hastinapur would begin anew.
But for now, a sister and a brother—not by blood, but by choice—sat under a peepal tree, rewriting the story of fate.