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blackknight-100 · 8 months

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Hello there anon, and thank you for the prompt! I got so excited with this I accidentally posted your ask without answering it (I'm so sorry😭😭) so I'm afraid I have to use a screenshot. I hope you like reading this!

Character Swap - Arjuna and Karna

Phalguna comes to Kuntidesha as it always does, but this year the air is colder, and the soil is wet with rain. The ponds are full and even rivers flow swifter, for Indra turns his eye upon them.

Princess Pritha bears the last few weeks of her womanly toil with ill grace; she is yet sixteen, face perpetually wrinkled in agony. The King of Gods has promised her maidenhood, Pritha thinks she would have given that up to be rid of this soreness.

When her time comes one cloudy eve, her trusted maid kneels by her screaming self, and snips the cord off a divine child.

The babe is soft and beautiful, with her looks and her smile and her curled hair; he yawns in restless sleep like a little dark moon. Pritha’s head is bent in prayer, her still-young heart is numb. She is a princess of two noble Kings, a star in the darkness of Āryavarta. Few women have her fortune, even lesser have her power, and yet she is just another girl, at the mercy of sages and gods, and the thought makes Pritha's head bow lower.

She stands by the raging Aswa as her maid gently sets the basket afloat, for foolish she may be, but cruelty comes only through her orders, and never by her hand, and the sky shatters with thunder and rain. Of all the recipients of Indra’s wrath, there has never been one more tragic.

His father from his heavenly throne names the child Arjuna, swears to guide and lead and bestow divine counsel, but as songs later let us know: he is ever known by his mothers’ names, for he is Rādha and Pritha's son.

Karna is born the last of Kunti’s sons, and the third of Pāndu’s scions. He comes into the world like a shining light, with her face and her smile and her curls in his hair. For the first few weeks, Kunti cannot bear to look at the babe, and nurses him with her eyes to the sky. The sun shines upon them, bright and reprimanding, and Kunti wills Surya to chastise his own brother.

To Mādri she says, and to a concerned Pāndu, that the birth tired her, to the child she murmurs tales of a long-lost brother.

“He looked just like you,” Kunti tells him, as Karna swings in his cradle. It is a rickety thing, old as Yudhisthira, and worn with Bheema’s fervour, but it is a cradle still, and Kunti wonders if her other son ever knew one.

“I think you would have loved him,” Kunti says, wistfully, weaving dreams out of her yearning. “He would have been your big brother.”

The boy in the cradle coos at her, toothless smile lighting up the world, and for a moment his face is dark, and outside it rains, and the babe in her arms is Indra’s child.

“You are terrible,” Arjuna scowls at Duryodhana, even though his father has taken great pains to counsel him otherwise. “He is just having fun.”

Duryodhana turns an interesting shade of purple. “His fun involves beating up my brothers and acting innocent when Pitāmaha asks him about it.”

Arjuna has no reason to defend this new prince, one whom he has never seen nor met, but his mouth betrays him once more. “That is not a good enough reason to kill him. You are merely jealous.”

“Kill whom?” says a voice, and Arjuna nigh jumps out of his skin as a boy swings down from the mango tree.

“Karna,” Duryodhana sighs. “Are you troubling the squirrels again?”

“No,” the boy says, shoving his fist behind his back. He is barely five and... light; his eyes are light and honey-brown, his hair is the light of sunshine on tree-barks, and his face glows like day. “You’re going to kill my brother,” he repeats stubbornly.

Arjuna blinks; his father would not forgive him for this.

Duryodhana sighs once more. “Your brother is beating mine up.”

“I will tell him not to,” Karna promises, and Arjuna is a little sorry for the boy – all wobbling lips and earnest eyes. “I will tell Mother if he does. Please don’t kill him.”

Arjuna expects Duryodhana to say something like ‘Run along, child’ or ‘Do not eavesdrop on your elders’, but the prince has an indulgent, almost fond look on his face.

“Give me that,” he says, pointing at the hand Karna has behind his back. Arjuna thinks it a cruel thing to ask, then the boy reluctantly brings out a bursting handful of areca nuts, and Arjuna has to laugh.

Duryodhana smiles as well, plucks one of the six in his hand. Karna drops two others, and as he bends to retrieve his fallen treasures, Duryodhana ruffles his hair.

“Run along now, little scamp,” the Kaurava prince says.

“Are you going to kill him?” Karna asks, eyes wide and worried.

“No,” Duryodhana assures him, “but remember what we agreed, yes?”

Karna beams at them, one after the other. “I will! See you.”

With that, he is gone.

Duryodhana cracks the nut and hands half of it to Arjuna – sinfully possessive one moment, impossibly generous the next.

Arjuna gapes at him. “Are you really not going to kill Bheem?”

Duryodhana glowers at him. “Go lay an egg,” he says, rudely, and stalks off. Arjuna stares at his retreating back, confused.

But no news comes that day, or the next, or any of the weeks after, and slowly, Arjuna learns to breathe easier.

“Who is that?” Krishna asks.

Karna starts, he has not been paying attention. Krishna is the scion of faraway Dwārika, and not much of an acquaintance in any manner of the term, although the dark haired prince claims he has hardly ever been outside Vrindāvan, and never to the city by the sea.

“Pardon me,” Karna says, contrite, “whom do you speak of?”

“That boy,” says Krishna, and points towards a lone figure lurking by the stables.

“That is Arjuna. His father is Pitāmaha's charioteer.”

“May I speak to him?”

“Excuse me,” Karna hails the older boy, “can you spare a moment?”

Arjuna appears at his side, all muddy fringes and stiff bows. “Greetings, princes.”

“Greetings,” Karna nods. “This is Krishna, my cousin. Krishna, Arjuna.”

Krishna is tall and dark, his young face beams with pleasure. “How do you do, Pārtha?”

Arjuna blinks. “Uh... I am not called that. My mother’s name is Rādha.”

Krishna gives him a secret smile, and waves at someone above his head. Karna, distracted by a squirrel, nearly misses it.

“Duryodhana?” he says, delighted, when he notices the other boy on the balcony. “Come down, come down.”

Krishna shakes his arm. “Perhaps, the four of us can go to the garden?”

Sometime later, the four of them are seated around a bush, shears in hand. The rose shrub is not big enough to make a topiary out of, but Queen Gandhari has arranged tables around it with the hopes of giving the boys a more fruitful pastime to channel their excitement into.

“And what should I do?”

Arjuna is seated beside Krishna, facing the others. Duryodhana picks up his shears and snips a stray leaf. “We have to make this appear smooth and shapely.”

“Why?”

Karna stares at him. “Because Aunt Gandhari says so, of course.”

Krishna pulls his legs up on the bench, lifts a fist to the air. “Let’s dooo it!”

For the next couple of hours they work diligently, or at least pretend to, for Duryodhana starts kicking Karna under the bench, and Karna kicks him back, and it is an entertaining game; Krishna, meanwhile, shows Arjuna how and where to snip – he has clever eyes, and his hands are dexterous.

When they finally leave, one side of the bush poorer than the other, Krishna swings his hands around his new friend’s shoulders and lags behind the two princes. “You were saying Guru Drona does not want to teach you?”

Arjuna flushes. “That is true. It is er... his choice, of course, no disrespect intended.”

Krishna’s eyes twinkle. “Dau and I are going to study with Guru Sāndīpani. Do you wish to come with?”

Arjuna chances a glance at Karna, barely jealous, but there still. “I think I would like that.”

“Can we not do this here?” Arjuna hisses. His father looks over from the garden where he and Rādha Mā are talking to Lord Bhishma, and Arjuna is afraid.

“Come now,” Duryodhana groans. “We are settling it man to man, just as Pitāmaha wanted. What is wrong now?”

Arjuna glances at the Pāndava brothers, aching with the weight of Anga’s crown and the knowledge of the Jatugrīha. “Why am I a part of this conversation?”

Yudhisthira coughs politely, as he is wont to. It gets on Arjuna's nerves like nothing else. “If you will excuse me,” he says, “we must greet our mother.”

The Pāndavas glance up as one, and Arjuna notices Dowager Empress Kunti hurrying down the steps.

“Mother,” Karna and Sahadeva exclaim excitably and there is a flurry of motion as they settle down to accept their blessings. To his surprise, Duryodhana follows, and he is compelled to join in the flock.

“There you are, darling,” Kunti says, pulling him up, then freezes.

Something old and forgotten stirs within Arjuna – a shadow of a memory, a wisp of a dream, a woman still as a flame with a child in her arms. Mother, he nearly says, ancient words soaring to his mouth, the shapes of them lingering on his tongue. Mother, look what we have brought home.

Then the Grandfather joins them and the moment is gone.

His father throws him a disapproving glance, and Arjuna shrinks from the princes. His mother, though, is staring at Karna.

“Vāsu...?” she whispers, as if to a ghost, and Karna turns.

“Yes, Mā?”

“His name is Karna,” Bheema declares loudly, and glares at them. The prince has not yet forgiven Arjuna’s stunt at the Graduation, even if Karna claims he would have done the same.

Radha Mā looks flustered, and Karna shifts in discomfort, as if put on a stage for a part he does not know how to play. Adhiratha grabs Arjuna and wraps an arm around his wife.

“Please forgive her, Prince,” he says, and starts pulling them away. “By your leave...”

Arjuna supposes they have embarrassed his father enough. His mother walks as if in a trance. “Vāsu?” she murmurs under her breath. “Vāsusena... child, where are you gone?”

Arjuna, alarmed, turns one last time. Karna is miserable and bewildered, staring after Rādha like a lost child, and Kunti's eyes, seeking him, are wet with tears.

Arjuna sits silent and still, horror trembling beneath his skin like a fluttering bird.

“Duryodhana, please...” Arjuna whispers, unsure of what he begs, and fearful of the prince's wrath.

“I bet my brother, Karna,” Yudhisthira says, drunk on dharma and shivering with repentance. “If I win, I shall have him and all that is on the board; if you do, then he is yours.”

Karna looks up, stunned. There is betrayal on his face, and Arjuna’s heart stings. Even Duryodhana frowns, for Karna alone of all his cousins he names a friend.

“As you say,” Shakuni shrugs, and rolls his dice. “Lo! I win!”

Karna rises from his seat without being asked, walks over to kneel beside his brothers. His mien is smooth and calm now, all torment shielded behind a mask, but Bheema leaps up, enraged.

“Brother!” he tells Yudhisthira, “Hear me! Cease this madness before you lose all else.”

“I cannot leave them to this fate, Bheema,” Yudhisthira says, and picks the dice again. “I stake Bheema.”

“No, wait,” Duryodhana says, brows furrowed. “Māmāshree, do not bet now.”

The two players look up.

“No more?” Yudhisthira repeats slowly, as if he thought this game would go on forever, till the last brother was staked, and perhaps his wife and mother as well.

“Are you sure, my dear?” Shakuni asks.

Duryodhana ignores both of them, strides over to Karna. “Come with me.”

“I shall split your head open,” Bheema roars from beside Yudhisthira. “Leave him alone.”

“I won him,” Duryodhana reminds him coldly, “and I would that he comes with me.”

Karna rises with a grace that startles Arjuna, no longer the clumsy middle prince who dropped things, just like he is no longer a charioteer's dutiful son.

“I will go,” he says, and Yudhisthira turns to the court at large. “Please forgive my brother’s outburst.”

Arjuna wants to slap him.

Duryodhana wraps an arm around Karna's shoulders, and steers him to the doors. For a moment it appears that Bheema would follow, but then the Kaurava prince dismisses the guards, and they step just outside, far enough so no one can overhear whispers, but near enough that they are seen, and a fuming Bheema sits back down.

Arjuna sits and waits for a long time, like all others at court, even the blind Emperor, who can never walk without his son, and thinks miserably of how much Krishna would disapprove.

He is about to join them, either to pacify or to add fuel to the fire, when Karna speaks, loud and sarcastic enough to be heard all over the court. “I loved it. I loved it so much I am going to write a play about it, and have actors sent to perform it all over Āryavarta. Why, I should- ”

Duryodhana catches his flailing hands, shushes him. They whisper once more. The blind Emperor swivels his head in apparent confusion. Arjuna gets up to intervene.

Then Duryodhana walks in, a furious Karna in tow.

Arjuna seizes him by the arm. “Let them go, Duryodhana,” he pleads. “Do not do this.”

His patron and friend...? looks at him quietly for a long time, so long that Arjuna very nearly reaches for his bow.

Dhritarashtra, for once in his life, takes the cue. “Court is dismissed,” he calls, and the ordeal is over.

“You have counselled me wisely,” Duryodhana says at last. “Now, and before. It is a shame that I heeded you not.” Then he raises his head and says aloud, without preamble or explanation, “Let all be returned and restored to the Pāndava princes. Thank you, noble ones, for joining us in this game. We shall retire soon for lunch.”

Two years later, when the knowledge of the game is a rumour, and the incident at Indraprastha's lake is forgotten, Karna comes alone to Hastinapura. Krishna, who is visiting, gives Arjuna one of his secret smiles.

At the gates, Duryodhana meets him stiffly, for things have never been the same between the two sets of cousins. They bow ceremoniously, Dhritarashtra speaks a few half-hearted greetings, and Gandhari fusses over him.

Karna and Duryodhana stare at each other, and then Karna wraps him in a fierce hug.

“You’re not forgiven,” the Pandava prince says, voice muffled, but Arjuna notes Karna's trembling hands and thinks he knows otherwise.

Then, to his surprise, Karna turns to him. Krishna smiles at him again and whispers, “Prepare yourself, Angarāja.”

Before Arjuna can ask him what he means, Karna bows to him and says, “Greetings, brother.”

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