A/N: I am writing in everyday English, is it going to seem strange?
A/N 2: This is set just before the war starts, after Kunti had told Karna he's her son, that the Pandavas are his brothers.
The first time Karna made his way to the Pandava camp was two evenings before the first day of war. He was so intensely, so painfully on his guard, he required several seconds to decide to take the next step. He paused at every rustle of every leaf. He jumped out of his skin at moonbeams playing on the trees. Cats couldn't have slipped by softer.
He stopped somewhere near the centre of the camp when his probing eyes found Nakul waling across.
My youngest brother, it struck Karna.
He followed the son of Asvin and was not disappointed; soon, he heard Yudhishthir's voice floating into the dark.
"Stop complaining, Bheem." He sounded impatient. "We said we would take it by turns, and it is your turn. No, you are not going to get one of the servants fetch the logs. It reflects very poorly on our character."
"You take everything on our character," said Bheem in a sulky tone, the kind Karna had never heard. He'd only ever heard Bheem issuing threats to and fro with Duryodhan and Dusshashan. To defend Draupadi's honour, to protest against the unfair wresting of their kingdom, to support Arjun when-
"I'll do it if you are too tired today-"
Karna froze.
"-but only if you take my next two turns."
How do I define that voice? wondered Karna. My arch-rival. My bitterest enemy. The personification of every insult, every demean I have ever faced.
'The day I slay Arjun, the world will know. The world will know that the son of a Suta can also be the world's best archer.'
Bheem must have given in to the deal; Arjun had got up from where he had been sprawling in front of the tent and seemed to be moving in the direction of Karna's hiding spot.
Karna unfroze. He would not be discovered here for anything in the world.
My arch-rival. My younger brother. My arch-rival. My younger brother, chanted his head.
A tiny part of him wanted to stay where he was and talk to Arjun once before they met on the battlefield. But he didn't have courage enough for that. He might be fearless on the battlefield and in life, but he could not face Arjun.
Karna turned and slipped away.
***********
The second time, he was less cautious. They wouldn't discover him, he was sure. They wouldn't be looking around to discover anyone.
With one day to go for the war, they were lounging around the fire, bantering idly. Nakul and Sahadev seemed to be discoursing upon why the gift of healing was more important than the gift of brawn; Bheem was not taking kindly to it.
"I'll smash their head so hard with my mace, there will not be any healing left to do," said Bheem.
"I'm sure you will," said Arjun with an indulgent smile.
He often appeared older than Bheem in age and maturity to Karna.
"You don't patronize me," warned Bheem. "But you two-take even archery. Any gift of blowing off the enemy's head is better than healing. What would you do with healing?"
"You could protect your own people," retorted Nakul.
"Brothers," said Yudhishthir mildly. "That's enough on the topic. Harming and healing are both important. Between the five of us, we know both, which makes us complete. Do not try to compare them."
If Kunti Maa had not abandoned him, thought Karna, he would never have been an elder brother like Yudhishthir. He would have been an absolute disaster as the eldest brother.
But he would have BEEN an elder brother.
The idea, a mix of strange and scary, enveloped him with empty envy. Not for Yudhishthir, not for any of the Pandavas, but for his own self, if he'd been in his rightful place. He was envious of the very idea of himself in that world.
"-fetch a couple more logs, go on-"
So consumed was he, he did not hear the footsteps until it was too late.
"I rather thought," drawled Sahadev, "the king left the task of spying to his lesser warriors, not someone who claims to be the best archer in their side."
"I was not spying," said Karna in angry defense.
Sahadev's voice had reached his brothers, all of whom drew weapons and approached. Within half a second, they were standing shoulder to shoulder, all five of them.
"What do you want, King of Anga?" asked Yudhishthir. "We are not discussing war strategies, so it would be futile to eavesdrop upon us."
So furious with himself that he couldn't think straight, Karna held his ground, wondering what under the skies he could do without backing away and what he could say to salvage a tiny bit of his dignity.
He came up with naught. He had been spying, and in whichever way he looked, it was clear he had been spying.
"If you were not spying, what were you doing?" demanded Arjun. "You are not allowed to intrude upon our camp."
"Wanted to kill us in our sleep before the war starts, did you?" said Bheem. "Wouldn't it go against your dharma?"
Better than spying and dishonour was-
Threatening.
"I simply came to issue a warning," said Karna.
"Go on," said Yudhishthir.
"I-" Karna faltered, remembering the promise he had given his mother two days back. He would not hurt four of his five brothers, and his eyes inevitably fell on the remaining one. "-look forward to penetrating your armour and driving my arrow through your heart in front of Krishna's very eyes, Arjun."
Arjun almost rolled his eyes.
"Yes," he said, "so I have heard. But I am not going to let that happen, King of Anga. Big threats are all you seem to be capable of from the first day we met. It has, most assuredly, become your identity."
Karna acknowledged to himself that he had issued rather a large number of threats to Arjun in his lifetime.
But before, he had always done it with fire in his heart. Now his heart felt like it was made of lead.
How could the idea of piercing his younger brother to death appeal to him in any way? Would killing Arjun even feel satisfactory? Or would the pinnacle of his life, the one he had been working towards for years and years and years, be miserable instead of triumphant?
"Get back to your sniveling camp before I kick you all the way there," said Bheem viciously.
For one spiteful moment, Karna considered telling them and throwing them into the same turmoil he just could not get rid of. Why would he take the burden of protecting their precious hearts from the earth-shattering knowledge that they were about to fight their blood?
'I am Kunti Maa's firstborn. That makes us brothers.'
Even saying it in his head seemed scary. Something about the whole situation had taught him fear for the first time. He was afraid. He was so afraid of his brothers, of hurting his brothers, of what the war might bring.
Karna turned and stalked away, yet again.