The royal palace of Hastinapura glimmered beneath the golden sun, yet shadows moved within its polished walls. Amid the laughter of courtiers and the echoes of conch shells, an older voice stirred darker thoughts in the heart of a young prince.
Shakuni, the uncle from Gandhara, walked slowly across the marble-floored chambers, his staff tapping rhythmically against the stone. His sharp eyes studied his nephew Duryodhana, who sat restless on a high seat, chewing on pride as if it were bitter fruit.
The Gandhara prince bent close, his tone honeyed but sly."Duryodhana, my child, you are heir to the throne, yet do you not see? The world looks not at you, but at Arjuna. The boy of Kunti shines brighter in the eyes of your guru, in the admiration of the people. His arrows sing louder than your name."
Duryodhana's fists tightened. He had heard the same whispers from courtiers, the same comparisons in the city's streets. "Yes, Mama," he muttered. "Everywhere they speak of Arjuna. As if I am but dust beside his feet. But what can be done? He has Drona's blessings. He has the Brahmastra. He has the favor of all."
Shakuni's lips curled into a serpent's smile."Not all, my prince. There is one whose skill rivals his. One whose very presence unsettles Arjuna's pride—Karna, son of the charioteer. He has the strength of Bhima, the vision of a bowman unmatched, the discipline of a sage. Have you not seen how his arrows fly as if guided by the sun itself?"
Duryodhana's eyes brightened at the name. "Karna, yes… He stands tall, unafraid, even before Arjuna. But what of him? He is not a prince. He has no kingdom, no throne, no army. Even if he surpasses Arjuna, who will accept him? The world will still laugh at a sutaputra."
Shakuni leaned closer, his whisper curling like smoke."Then give him a throne, Duryodhana. Make him a king. Raise him, and he will raise you. Bind his loyalty not with words, but with power. Arjuna may have Drona, but you—you can have Karna. Together, you will eclipse the sons of Pandu."
Duryodhana's breath quickened. He rose, pacing the chamber, the idea burning within him. To make Karna a king… to turn his rival into his ally… Yes, it would wound Arjuna's pride like nothing else. And it would bind Karna eternally to him.
"I will do it," Duryodhana said, his voice firm. "If Karna stands with me, Arjuna will never again hold his head high. Hastinapura shall know who is the true heir to glory."
That evening, as the sun dipped beyond the western gates, Duryodhana summoned Karna to the royal gardens. The young warrior arrived in simple garments, his bow slung across his shoulder, his posture calm and resolute. The fragrance of jasmines filled the air, but tension lay hidden beneath the blossoms.
Duryodhana spread his arms in greeting. "Friend Karna, it delights me to see you. Come, sit with me."
Karna bowed respectfully, though his smile was faint. "What weighs on your mind, Prince? You seem… restless."
Duryodhana's eyes gleamed. He leaned closer, his voice brimming with zeal."Karna, you know as well as I do, Arjuna is favored above all. Drona gives him secrets no other hears. The people chant his name. Even my father praises his skill. But I see the truth. I know who truly stands equal, perhaps greater. You, Karna. Only you."
Karna's eyes lowered, but he said nothing.
Duryodhana pressed on, his hand gripping Karna's arm with fervor."But the world does not see because you are not crowned. They mock your birth, though your arrows could pierce the very heavens. Why should you suffer such injustice? Why should Arjuna shine while you stand in his shadow?"
Karna lifted his gaze, calm and unwavering. "What are you asking of me, Duryodhana?"
"I ask nothing but your friendship, your bond eternal," Duryodhana declared. "Stand by me, Karna. Together we shall rule. I will crown you king of Anga. With a throne beneath your feet, no man shall call you lesser again. And in return, I ask only that when the time comes, you will stand beside me against the sons of Pandu. Together, we shall write history."
The garden fell silent. A koel sang in the distance, its cry sharp in the twilight. Karna's heart stirred, not with greed, but with thought. He saw the fire in Duryodhana's eyes, the ambition that blazed like a storm. And he saw, behind it, the serpent's shadow whispering.
Slowly, Karna smiled. It was not the smile of triumph, nor of eagerness, but of a man who saw beyond the glitter of crowns.
"Duryodhana," he said softly, "you honor me more than I deserve. To offer me a kingdom when I own nothing but this bow—it humbles me. But know this: I do not seek thrones. My path is not written by crowns or gold. If I stand by a friend, it will not be for kingship, but for loyalty alone."
Duryodhana frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "Then you refuse?"
Karna shook his head gently. "I neither refuse nor accept. I smile, because I see your heart. You wish to bind me with promises, but I am already bound—by dharma, by honor, by my own vow to truth. Whether I am a sutaputra or a king, I remain Karna. That is enough."
He rose, bowing with grace. "Forgive me, Prince, if I do not leap at your offer. But know this: if ever I stand with you, it shall be because I choose it—not because of a throne."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Duryodhana staring after him, torn between admiration and frustration. The garden darkened, and somewhere far away, Shakuni's laughter echoed like the hiss of a serpent.