That same evening, Duryodhana once again went to meet Dhritarashtra privately.
This time there was no shouting. No open rage. But it was far more dangerous — because now he came prepared.
Inside the dim royal chamber, Dhritarashtra listened silently while Duryodhana spoke one point after another.
"There is no shastra forbidding multiple wives. Karna treats all his queens with dignity. He is not lustful or irresponsible. He protects his households. He protects allies. He protects even strangers."
Then Duryodhana stepped closer.
"And most importantly…" His voice lowered seriously. "If we insult him now, the trade agreement will collapse."
Dhritarashtra frowned slightly.
Duryodhana continued without pause.
"The enclave. The Ganga passage. The military equipment. The trade routes. All of it." The prince's eyes sharpened. "And if the Pandavas survive…" He paused briefly before correcting himself carefully. "When the time comes and if Yudhisthira succeeds you to the throne, I will have no protection of my father over my head. I need someone on my side — someone powerful enough to even defeat the Pandavas and give me back the throne that is rightfully mine. Guru Drona, Grandsire Bhishma, and even Prime Minister Vidura… all of them always side with the Pandavas and have given me nothing but injustice, Father. I know Uncle Shakuni will stay on my side forever, but Gandhara can only protect me and my brothers. It cannot give us back the throne. Karna can become my strongest supporter."
That statement finally made Dhritarashtra realise something deeper. Slowly the king turned his face slightly toward his son.
"So this was your intention from the beginning? The trade… the advice to announce the swayamvara… everything was steered in a way that forced Karna to participate. Because you knew that if he participates, he will win. Apart from Uncle Bhishma and Guru Drona, no mortal in the entire Aryavarta is a match for his prowess."
Duryodhana did not hesitate this time. He nodded.
"Yes. If he becomes my brother-in-law, no amount of Pandavas will be able to stop me, Father. With Uncle Shakuni's wits and Karna's strength, my path to the throne will remain clear. And once I take it, my future shall remain unchallenged by the other powers of Aryavarta."
Dhritarashtra fell silent for several moments. Then finally he sighed heavily.
"I may be blind, Duryodhana…" His tired voice carried unusual honesty. "…but even I can see that Karna is like the sun."
The prince frowned slightly.
Dhritarashtra continued.
"The sun gives life from afar. But if one goes too close…" His fingers tightened upon the throne armrest. "…it burns everything."
Duryodhana's expression hardened at once.
"Father." His voice became firm. "My sister herself has no objection." Then slowly the prince delivered his final blow. "And if Karna is not invited…" His eyes darkened visibly. "…then I will personally ensure this swayamvara becomes a scandal that drags Hastinapura's reputation through the mud across Aryavarta."
The chamber fell silent. Dhritarashtra's breathing deepened slightly — part anger, part helplessness, part fear.
Because for the first time he could not see through his son's thoughts. It was as if Duryodhana was slipping away from his hands. And that frightened him more than anything.
*
The following morning, the atmosphere inside Hastinapura felt strangely heavier than usual, as though the palace itself understood that decisions made within its marble halls would shape relationships across kingdoms for years to come.
Upon the throne, Dhritarashtra sat straighter than usual. Near him stood Vidura. And before them, leaning lightly upon his great staff, stood Bhishma, his expression already troubled even before the discussion truly began.
Dhritarashtra spoke first.
"I have reconsidered the matter regarding Karna."
The moment the name was spoken, Bhishma's eyes narrowed slightly.
Dhritarashtra continued slowly.
"We cannot afford to disrespect him while the enclave agreement and trade negotiations are still ongoing." His voice remained measured, but there was firmness beneath it now. "And beyond politics…" He paused faintly. "…I do not wish for another Dwarka incident."
That sentence alone made the room quieter. Everyone remembered it — a single man arriving before the fortified city of Dwarka, a divine chariot descending from the skies, the entire Yadava army collapsing beneath divine astras, and finally Princess Subhadra leaving with him openly.
Bhishma's expression hardened.
"Maharaj," he said deeply, "fear should not decide Kuru traditions. And this is not Dvarika. You have this Gangaputra Bhishma who stands as a wall to protect Hastinapura. Dvarika's Prince Balarama might be mighty, but he does not possess the knowledge of Divyastras. So you have nothing to be worried about."
Dhritarashtra answered at once.
"This is not fear or mistrust in your capabilities, Uncle. You are someone whom even Bhagwan Parashurama could not defeat. However, he too was a Maharathi. And any clash against you would turn Hastinapura into a battleground."
Then, after a short pause, the King let out a heavy sigh. His fingers tightened over the throne armrest.
"And most importantly, Duryodhana made me realise that the decision of who shall wear the garland lies in the hands of Dushala. So it does not matter whether Karna wins the swayamvara or not. Ultimately, it is a Swayamvara."
Bhishma spoke again after a long pause.
"So you have decided already."
Dhritarashtra nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Vidura finally lowered his gaze quietly. He understood that resistance now would only create conflict without changing the outcome. The discussion ended there. But Bhishma's unease did not.
That same night, under the dim glow of oil lamps and moonlight filtering through palace corridors, Bhishma personally went to meet Karna.
Karna's chamber remained simple despite his status — no loud music, no crowd of attendants, no drunken celebration like many kings preferred. Only a single bronze lamp burned near the window while Karna sat cross-legged beside it, polishing the string of Vijaya Dhanush with slow concentration. The scent of sandalwood oil lingered lightly in the room while a faint night wind moved through the curtains.
The moment Bhishma entered, Karna immediately rose respectfully.
"Mahamahim."
Bhishma studied him quietly for several moments before speaking.
"The king intends to invite you to Dushala's swayamvara."
Karna's expression did not change much, as if he had already sensed it coming.
Bhishma continued directly.
"And I advise you not to participate."
The room became silent afterward. Outside, distant guards could be heard changing shifts while iron spears lightly struck palace stone.
Karna slowly placed the bow aside.
"May I ask why?"
Bhishma's old eyes sharpened.
"Because others do not know the truth. But you do."
Karna remained silent.
Bhishma stepped closer.
"You are Kunti's son, Karna."
Those words hung in the air heavily, like thunderclouds refusing to break.
"If you participate in this swayamvara…" Bhishma continued slowly, "…you will forever lose the right to acknowledge Kunti as your mother."
For a long moment Karna simply stood there. No anger. No sadness. Only stillness.
Then finally he answered calmly.
"I forfeited that right long ago."
Bhishma's brows tightened faintly.
Karna's voice remained steady.
"I am not Kuntiputra Mahamahim. I am Sangyaputra." The words carried neither hatred nor bitterness — only acceptance. "And by birth… there exists no blood relation between Princess Dushala and myself, as I do not have the blood of Maharaj Pandu running in my body. I do not acknowledge Queen Kunti as my mother. Nor the Pandavas as my brothers."
Bhishma closed his eyes briefly. For one small moment, the old warrior actually looked tired — not physically, but spiritually — like a man watching knots tighten around destiny while being unable to cut them apart. He sighed deeply.
"Think once more, Karna." His voice softened unexpectedly. "You have already created complicated ties through your previous marriages." He looked directly at him. "And now you wish to marry your wife's cousin?"