Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

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Hastinapur transformed.

Not slowly. But all at once.

Meanwhile at Kuru Palace...

Silk banners draped across pillars.

Golden lamps lined every corridor.

Fragrant flowers hung like rivers from the ceilings.

Guests arrived in waves:

👑 Royal families from various kingdom.

🧠 Ministers and nobles.

🧘 Sages from distant lands.

And also the kings and princess who were about to get married.

Only those bound by great duties stayed away.

Because this—Was no ordinary event.

This marriages were going to shift the political landscape of these vast lands.

The gates opened once more.

And Bhishma returned—With the alliance of Madra secured.

Three marriages. Now certain.

But while the palace shone—Vidura moved quietly.

Strategically.

Because celebrations were not just rituals—They were narratives.

And narratives shaped power.

Before someone want’s to target Devara in their own narrative he needs to put his hands first and design it.

By his instruction—A story began to circulate.

Carefully. Deliberately.

"A boy... Five years old... Killed two rakshasas alone... Protected a princess..."

In the eyes of the common people—Devara was no longer just:

A child who was born to goddess Ganga.

A prince brought by Bhishma who they saw at the chariot on that day.

A curiosity about his strength,

He became—Something else.

Some called him 🌊 Ganga Putra , ⚔️ Rakshasa Slayer and many more titles as they liked as they talked about him.

Some whispered—

"He is not normal... He is chosen..."

Meanwhile at the Kuru Palace kitchen...

Devara, meanwhile—Was completely unaware about the little game played by Vidura.

Watching decorations. Eating sweets.

Asking questions like.

"...Can I have that one too?"

But Vidura knew. This wasn’t just praise.

This was positioning.

Because when the world begins to believe—A path forms.

And once formed—It is very hard to change.

And it’s very important to start with positive image that rather than some damaging his image.

Marriage day...

The palace doors opened—And the world stepped in.

The air filled with music—Drums. Conches. Veenas.

Flower petals rained from above—As the brides entered.

Graceful. Radiant.

Welcomed not just by royalty—But by an entire kingdom.

At the entrance—Arti flames danced as the ritual is performed.

Sacred chants echoed chanted by sages.

Each bride was welcomed—Not as a guest—But as a future queen.

The palace itself seemed to bow by the reception for the new brides.

The mandap stood at the center—Decorated with gold and flowers.

The sacred fire was lit.

Witness. Judge.

Binding force for the marriage which will connect the princes and princesses lives together.

Three couples who were about to be married arrived.

Prince Dhritarashtra and princess Madri

Prince Pandu and princess Kunti

And finally mahamandri Vidura and princess Sulabha.

Side by side. Moving together.

They circled the fire—Not once. But thrice.

Each step—A vow. A promise.

That they need to keep up for the sake of their partners.

A thread woven into destiny.

Then—The moment came. The most important part of marriage.

The mangalasutra. Placed gently. Around each bride’s neck.

Then sindoor¹ is placed on bride’s forehead where the parting of their hairs

And just like that—It was done.

The hall erupted softly—Not in chaos—But in warmth.

Elders blessed the new brides.

Sages chanted mantra’s to bless them to have good luck with their life.

Guests smiled enjoying the moment.

A kingdom exhaled a sigh of relief that their princes were finally married.

Amidst all of this—Devara stood. Beside Satyavati.

Who was holding his hands.

Quiet. Observing. Not distracted. Not playful.

Just—Watching the tradition unfold before his very eyes.

Anga Kingdom...

Beyond the grandeur of Hastinapur—At the quiet outskirts of Anga—A boy stood alone.

Bow in hand. Feet planted.

Eyes locked on the target.

Karna

Not born in a palace. Not trained by masters.

But driven—By something deeper.

The bow creaked as he pulled the string taking a breath.

Rough. Handmade.

The string pulled tight—Not perfect. But determined.

-TWANG!

The arrow flew from the bow as he released the string.

Struck the tree.

-Thud.

Close to the mark.

Karna frowned slightly. Adjusted.

-Frown!

"...."

Pulled again this time determined to hit the target.

-TWANG!!!

This time—Closer to the target than before.

His father—Adhiratha

Had helped shape the bow.

Patiently. Carefully.

Thinking it was just a child’s curiosity.

But Karna—Wasn’t playing around when he said he wanted to become a archer.

From the day he saw soldiers hunt—Something had taken root.

Not admiration. Not curiosity.

Desire.

He wanted—To become an archer.

And even when laughed at—He didn’t stop dreaming.

At first—Clumsy. Unsteady.

But day by day—Shot by shot—He improved.

Until now—The arrows began to listen to him.

Not far away—A group of merchants rested.

Talking. Laughing. Exaggerating.

"A prince... Killed two rakshasas alone! With an axe!"

"Like a storm!"

The story had changed.

Grown. Twisted.

By each person who spoke about it.

But one thing remained.

Clear.

"Devara... Prince of Hastinapur..."

Karna paused for a second.

"...."

The arrow remained drawn. But his mind—Shifted.

"...A prince..."

A pause.

"...strong enough to kill rakshasas..."

His grip tightened slightly.

Not in jealousy of what he heard.

But—Interest. Curiosity about how strong he could be to defeat rakshasas.

So if he could he wanted to meet this prince.

Then he remembered suddenly about what his father told him at the morning.

His parents and their plan.

"We’re going to Hastinapur today... There will be a parade..."

Karna lowered his bow slowly. Eyes distant.

"...."

As it was getting late since his father and mother will be waiting for him at home.

Since they have plan to visit Hastinapur today.

Karna returned home.

A modest hut with few rooms.

Simple. Warm.

Inside—Adhiratha and Radha were already preparing.

Seeing Karna return.

Adhiratha informed him it was getting late.

"Hurry, Karna! We leave soon!"

Karna nodded calmly. No complaints. No delay.

-Nod

"...."

He washed. Returned back to the hut.

And wore the clothes his mother had prepared.

Carefully. Respectfully.

Outside—The bullock cart waited.

Wooden. Sturdy. Unremarkable.

They departed and the destination is Hastinapur.

As time passed...

Hastinapur...

Hastinapur roared with joy. The streets were alive.

Crowds gathered to look at the wives of their princes.

Voices rose.

Flowers filled the air as if it were the rain.

Three chariots moved forward—Slow. Majestic.

👑 Dhritarashtra with Madri,

🏹 Pandu with Kunti,

🧠 Vidura with Sulabha.

The people cheered looking at them.

"Long live the princes!"

"Blessings upon the queens!"

Petals rained down—Like soft applause from the sky even more.

Kuru Royal Palace...

From the palace balcony—Devara stood. Watching.

Silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The same boy—Who fought in a garden of Gandhara.

Now observing a kingdom from the balcony.

His eyes moved—From chariots.

To people. To smiles.

’...So many... no matter how many times I see it still looks very impressive.’

A quiet thought formed in his mind.

Amid the roaring celebration—Stood three figures.

Adhiratha, Radha and Karna

Simple. Unnoticed.

Yet—At the center of something unseen.

Karna looked around—Eyes wide.

"...."

Taking in everything before him.

The towering palace, The decorated streets, The endless crowd.

This world—Was bigger than anything he had known.

Then—His gaze stopped.

On the second chariot.

Where—Pandu and Kunti

Sat. Radiant. Graceful.

And as Kunti raised her hand—Blessing the crowd—Her eyes met his for a second.

Karna froze for a second.

"...."

Something stirred inside him.

Not thought. Not logic.

A feeling. Deep. Unexplainable.

Sadness. Heavy.

Sudden. And yet—Alongside it—Warmth. Respect.

A pull.

’...Why...?’

He didn’t understand. But it stayed.

His gaze drifted. To the nearby pond as he was in thought.

"...."

Filled with blooming lotuses.

Soft. Beautiful.

And then—An idea formed in his mind.

Karna moved to the side.

Quick. Quiet.

He took out his bow. Simple. Handmade.

An arrow. Set.

The string pulled back—Further. Further.

-CREAK.

The bow trembled. Straining.

Still—He pulled more.

Because—It didn’t feel enough.

"...."

And then—Something answered him.

A faint energy gathered—At the tip of the arrow.

Subtle. Barely visible. But real.

Karna didn’t notice. He only felt—certainty.

-TWANG—!

The bow snapped. Breaking in two.

But the arrow—Flew. Fast. True.

It struck the pond—

-BOOM!!!

Water erupted by the impact.

Lotus flowers—Lifted into the sky.

Spinning. Floating.

Carried by the perfect arc—They descended.

Soft. Gentle.

Right—Onto the chariot. Over Kunti and Pandu.

The crowd gasped looking at the scene where lotus flowers falling from the sky.

Then—Erupted.

"A blessing! The gods favor them!"

Cheers rose louder than before.

Kunti looked up.

Lotus petals falling around her.

But her eyes—Didn’t stay on the sky.

They searched.

Instinctively. For the source.

And for a brief moment—Her gaze found him again.

"...."

That same boy.

In the crowd.

Her heart tightened. Because something—Felt familiar.

Karna stood still. Broken bow in hand.

"...."

Watching.

Not proud. Not seeking attention.

Just—Feeling. Confused why did he do that and how? were the questions in his mind.

Meanwhile...

From the balcony of royal palace—Amid cheers, music, and celebration—Devara saw something others didn’t.

"...."

Not the chariots. Not the crowd.

But—A boy. Standing near the pond.

Bow drawn. Eyes focused.

Devara tilted his head slightly.

"...What is he doing?"

Curiosity first.

Then—The arrow flew. The lotus rose as it rained down from the sky.

And in that instant—Something clicked.

’...Karna.’

Not just a name. A story. A storm.

In Devara’s mind—memories surfaced:

A warrior unmatched.

A son abandoned.

A man bound by loyalty.

A life crushed by fate.

’Abandoned by his mother... Cursed by his teacher... Cursed by Bhudevi... Cursed by a sage... Stripped by Indra... Defeated by fate itself...’

Devara’s expression softened.

"...."

Because what stood below—Was none of that.

Just—A boy.

Not broken. Not hardened. Not alone.

Yet.

Devara exhaled slowly.

-Sigh!

"...So this is where it starts..."

He turned to rajmata Satyavati

"Mother I’m going to play!"

Before she could respond—He was already gone.

"...."

Running. Fast.

Excited.

Meanwhile at the pond...

The ripples had calmed. The petals had fallen.

And near the pond—Karna stood.

Still.

Lost in thought.

"...."

Eyes lingering where the chariot had disappeared.

Not far away—Adhiratha and Radha searched desperately.

"Karna!"

"KARNA!"

Radha’s voice trembled. Tears already forming.

Because in a city like Hastinapur—Losing a child meant fear.

Real fear.

When Devara arrived he noticed this commotion.

Devara approached them.

Calm. Casual.

"Are you looking for a boy? With a bow."

They turned instantly.

Hope flashing in their eyes.

"Yeah."

"He’s near the pond."

A simple answer.

But to them—It was everything.

They rushed.

Not even questioning.

Only pausing to say—

"Thank you!"

As they could tell by the attire of Devara he must be of high status.

Devara followed behind. Curious. Interested.

They found Karna as Devara as said. Standing there. Unmoving.

Still in that strange silence.

"...."

-THWACK!

A sharp tap on his head.

Karna blinked. Snapped back.

"Oww!!!"

Radha stood before him—Eyes wet.

"...."

Anger and relief tangled together.

"Where did you go?!"

Adhiratha stood behind—Breathing heavily.

-Huff! -Huff!

Mustache twitching with restrained frustration.

"Do you know how worried we were?!"

Karna lowered his head.

"I’m sorry..."

Soft. Genuine.

Radha didn’t stop. She grabbed his ear—

"Don’t do that again!"

Karna winced his eyes.

"Oww... Oww...."

Eyes watering now—Not from emotion—From pain.

And then—A chuckle. Light. Unrestrained.

-Chuckle!

Everyone turned. There stood Devara. Laughing.

-HAHAHAHA!!!

"You got caught."

Karna looked at him.

Really looked this time. A boy.

Same age.

But—Different. Clothes. Aura. Presence.

Everything about him says he must be royalty...

And yet—He was laughing. At him like he was watching a drama.

Karna rubbed his ear. Still stinging.

Trying not to look too bothered.

But failing.

Devara grinned wider.

-Grin!

"That looked like it hurt."

Adhiratha and Radha straightened slightly.

"...."

"...."

Now properly observing Devara.

His attire. His bearing.

Before they had doubts but now clear looking at...

The guards at a distance. Understanding dawned.

’...A royal...’

They bowed slightly. Respectful. Careful.

"Thank you for helping us."

Devara waved it off casually.

"It’s fine."

But his eyes—Were on Karna. Not leaving.

"...."

The laughter faded.

And Devara stepped forward—Bright. Unbothered.

"I’m Devaratha... you can call me Devara."

Silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Then—Recognition.

Karna’s eyes widened.

So did his parents’.

Because the stories—Had already reached them.

’The prince... The one who killed rakshasas...’

But the boy standing before them—Was smiling. Casual.

Almost... normal.

Adhiratha stepped forward. Respectful. Measured.

"I am Adhiratha... Charioteer of the Kuru kingdom."

A pause.

"...recently appointed under Mahamahim Bhishma."

He gestured gently.

"She is my wife, Radha. And my son... Karna."

Devara nodded. Taking it all in.

-Nod

"...."

Then—Without hesitation—He looked at Karna.

And asked.

"Do you want to play with me?"

Silence. Heavy.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Radha froze hearing his invitation.

Adhiratha stiffened for a second.

Because this—Was not how the world worked.

Royalty did not play with them.

They were not equals. They were not—Supposed to be seen like this.

But before they could speak—Karna answered.

Immediately.

"Yes."

No fear. No doubt.

Just—Acceptance.

Then his eyes lit up slightly.

That spark—The same one from before.

"Let’s play archery."

A pause.

"We take turns. And see who hits the target more."

Simple. Direct.

Honest with the choice.

Devara blinked once. Then—A grin spread.

-Blink! -Grin!

"...Okay."

No hesitation. No pride. No hierarchy.

Just—Agreement.

Adhiratha and Radha exchanged a glance.

"...."

"...."

Uneasy. But also—Confused.

Because what they were witnessing—Should not be happening.

And yet—It was.

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(Author note:)

I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.

Thanks for reading the Chapter!

Please give a review!!! And power stone too!!!

Guys it will motivate me more?