"Purochana was declared the criminal. Shakuni, who was considered the prime conspirator, was sent away to Gandhara. And Duryodhana, because he had been responsible for arranging your accommodation that ultimately turned into a nightmare, was sent to Bhagirathi Pradesh to govern the vassal state for the past couple of years. This Swayamvara eventually forced Maharaj Dhritarashtra to anoint him as Crown Prince."
The words were not spoken with accusation. Karna was simply explaining the situation as it stood.
"So," he continued, "if you have any intention of bringing this matter before Hastinapur's court and asking for justice, then unless you have clear evidence, do not bother doing it."
The five brothers remained silent.
Arjuna's jaw tightened slightly.
Karna noticed, but did not soften the truth.
"Your testimony would certainly matter," he said, "but you must understand that the trial has already produced a conclusion. Purochana was blamed. Shakuni was punished by exile. Duryodhana was sent away to govern. Without evidence that contradicts the findings of that trial, reopening the matter will not necessarily give you what you want."
There was a faint bitterness in the reality of it.
They had survived.
But survival did not automatically mean justice.
Karna looked at all five brothers and then at Kunti.
"This is all I have to say. The rest is up to you and what you decide. If you have anything to tell me, please go ahead. I am all ears."
The brothers looked at one another.
None of them spoke.
Yudhisthira seemed to be thinking about the political implications. Nakula and Sahadeva remained quiet, while Bhima's expression suggested that he still had not entirely accepted the situation. Arjuna looked at Karna for a while, but there were too many questions competing inside his mind.
Then Bhima finally spoke.
"Why?"
Karna looked at him.
Bhima frowned. "Why are you telling us all this?"
Karna remained silent.
"It is not as though we are friends," Bhima continued. "We barely knew you in the past either. Why are you helping us? Why are you keeping our secret? What do you get out of it?"
The question was blunt.
Karna almost smiled.
"There are reasons, Bhima. In fact, more than one."
Bhima waited.
"But I am afraid I cannot tell you that."
Bhima's frown deepened.
Karna continued calmly. "And I am not exactly doing you a favour. In the end, one's choices make up one's future. The accumulation of those choices becomes one's destiny." He looked at each of them in turn. "I am merely here to give you a choice, under the belief that perhaps you were not aware that you had it, or perhaps you were unconsciously ignoring it."
Bhima did not answer.
There was something frustrating about the response. Karna had not given him the answer he wanted, but neither had he dismissed the question. It was as though the man had deliberately placed the responsibility back into their hands.
Karna looked around.
"Is there anything else?"
Arjuna hesitated.
Then he asked, "How is Dushala?"
Karna's expression softened immediately.
"Does she..." Arjuna paused, searching for the right words. "You know. How is her relationship with your other queens?"
Of all the Pandavas, Arjuna had always been particularly close to Dushala. She had been their sister, and despite the conflict between the sons of Dhritarashtra and the sons of Pandu, the affection between them had never entirely disappeared. For two years they had believed her to be grieving their deaths. Arjuna had wondered about her many times but had never known whether she had been happy, whether she had been treated well after marrying Karna.
He wasn't worried Karna might treat her badly, but Karna had other queens, and that concerned him...
Karna smiled.
"She is fine. My other queens treat her like a little sister."
Arjuna's shoulders relaxed slightly.
Karna continued, "We had a daughter born a year ago. We named her Dharani."
Something changed in the faces of the five brothers.
For a brief moment, their previous tension disappeared.
"Dharani," Yudhisthira murmured.
They looked at one another.
A daughter.
Their sister had a daughter.
Arjuna smiled first. "Congratulations, Karna."
The others joined him in offering their congratulations, and for those few moments, there was no political calculation between them, no question of Hastinapur, no uncertainty about the future. There was only the simple happiness of hearing that someone they loved had been blessed with a child.
Karna smiled in return.
"She does talk about you all sometimes."
The brothers became quiet again.
"She remembers things," Karna continued. "She talks about how her brother Arjuna once pushed her and then took a rock to his head when Duryodhana accidentally threw it. She talks about how her brother Bhima used to shake the trees so that mangoes would fall for her."
Bhima's stern expression softened.
Karna could see the memories forming in their faces.
"She does not know that you are all alive," he added. "She still believes you are gone."
The smile faded slightly from his face.
"She feels sad whenever she thinks about you all. Especially you, Arjuna."
Arjuna looked down.
"After Duryodhana and Vikarna, she considers you her closest brother."
For several moments, Arjuna could not answer.
He remembered Dushala as she had been when they were children, when the divisions between the cousins had not yet become as deep as they would later become. He remembered her small hands, her laughter, the way she would follow them around whenever they were together. Now she had a daughter of her own. A child who knew stories about an uncle who was supposed to be dead.
Arjuna swallowed.
A faint smile appeared on his face, but his eyes had almost turned moist.
"It is good," he said quietly. "That she seems happy."
Karna looked at him.
"She is."
Arjuna nodded.
For once, he did not ask another question.
Karna gave him a small smile.
"If fate permits, you will meet her again someday."
Arjuna looked toward him.
He wanted to believe that.
More than he was willing to say.
***
A few days passed, and Kampilya gradually changed from a busy royal city into the centre of attention for nearly every major court in Aryavarta.
The roads around the capital remained crowded from morning until late evening, royal standards rose above temporary camps outside the city walls, and the sound of horses, chariot wheels and visiting delegations had become so common that the citizens barely turned their heads anymore.
Of the invited suitors, forty-seven had arrived.
Four princes had been unable to come for different reasons, but almost everyone else who had been expected was now present.
The Swayamvara had officially begun, and with it came sixteen days of ceremonies, hospitality, religious observances, entertainment and, eventually, the great archery challenge for Draupadi's hand.
The announcement permitting extraordinarily skilled Brahmin archers to attempt the preliminary qualification had caused considerable excitement when it was first made.
Many had tried. Some had arrived with confidence, some with greed in their eyes and dreams of suddenly becoming princes, while others had genuinely believed their archery was good enough to stand among the greatest warriors of the age.
None succeeded.
One after another, they failed to meet the impossible standard that Panchala had quietly placed before them, and eventually the crowd of hopeful Brahmins thinned until there was almost no one left willing to attempt it. The opportunity remained open, but in practice it had become little more than an empty doorway.
Arjuna had not even approached it.
That was what hurt Draupadi the most.
She had waited.
After Karna had spoken to her, she had allowed herself to hope for the first time that perhaps the strange and impossible feeling she had developed for Arindhama did not have to remain merely a secret affection that she would eventually bury.
Karna had told her that he would make it possible for him to participate. He had changed the rules without revealing why, had spoken to Drupada and had created a path through which a Brahmin archer could enter the competition. Draupadi had spent the following days wondering whether Arindhama would appear.
He never did.