The morning sun streamed through the grand windows of the royal chamber, painting golden streaks across the marble floors. Birds chirped outside, their songs weaving through the soft hum of palace life. In the heart of this magnificent palace, a tiny presence made the world feel complete—Prince Vivaan, now one year old, lay in the arms of his mother, Queen Yashvi, yawning and stretching his little limbs.
"Good morning, my little ray of light," Yashvi whispered, brushing a soft curl from his forehead. Vivaan responded with a sleepy smile, his bright eyes sparkling as if greeting the sun itself.
King Raghavendra entered the chamber quietly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He knelt beside Yashvi, lifting Vivaan into his arms. "Come, my son. Father has something special for you today," he said, his voice filled with warmth. The infant cooed happily, reaching for his father's face with tiny fingers.
Breakfast was a calm, tender ritual. Vivaan did not eat from anyone else but his father's hand. Each morsel was offered with a smile, every bite a moment of connection. The King chuckled softly as Vivaan's laughter filled the room, the sound bright and pure. Even the Queens watched in awe, their hearts swelling with love.
"I swear, he grows more beautiful every day," Kavya said softly, her hand resting protectively over her round belly, the promise of twins beneath her gentle curves.
"Ishara will have her turn soon," Yashvi replied with a warm laugh, her eyes crinkling. "I cannot wait to see him with his little siblings."
After breakfast, the royal family moved to the palace garden—a sprawling paradise of flowering trees, glistening fountains, and marble walkways lined with vibrant blossoms. Vivaan toddled carefully on his unsteady legs, though he could not walk fully yet, his curiosity guiding his movements. He stopped to examine a butterfly, his tiny fingers reaching out, eyes wide with wonder.
The garden was alive with sunlight, laughter, and the fragrance of flowers. The Queens followed, their steps careful yet full of joy, gently correcting Vivaan if he strayed too close to the fountain. Ishara hummed a soft tune, holding her belly, while Kavya sang a playful song, making Vivaan giggle uncontrollably.
The King, carrying Vivaan in his arms, led him to a small fountain where the water sparkled in the morning light. "Look, Vivaan," he said, pointing to the dancing droplets. "Even water can smile when it meets the sun." Vivaan laughed, his tiny hands reaching for the shimmering water, eyes glinting with delight.
It was during this peaceful play that danger crept silently into their morning. A servant, unaware of a small mishap, had prepared milk for Ishara, but a trace of poison had been mistakenly mixed in. Vivaan, ever curious and observant, toddled close just as Ishara reached for her cup. His tiny hand knocked it away, spilling the milk harmlessly on the marble floor.
Ishara froze, her eyes wide in shock. "Vivaan! How—"
The King rushed forward instantly, heart pounding, lifting his son to safety and inspecting the spilled milk. Relief flooded the chamber as he realized the child's quick reflexes had saved the queen from harm.
Raghavendra's eyes glistened with a mixture of pride and astonishment. "Vivaan… you are truly extraordinary," he murmured, holding his son close. Yet in his heart, he vowed to protect this innocence, to let Vivaan live a happy, ordinary childhood, even if the child's brilliance surpassed the bounds of age.
The Queens, still shaken, gathered around, their hands caressing Vivaan and murmuring words of love. Ishara hugged him gently, tears of gratitude in her eyes, while Kavya laughed softly, smoothing his hair. "Our little hero," she whispered.
The rest of the morning passed in calm delight. Vivaan crawled among the flowerbeds, discovering new shapes, colors, and textures. The King watched, always nearby, ready to scoop him up at a moment's notice. The Queens joined in the fun, making gentle games of chasing butterflies and tossing petals into the air. Laughter echoed across the garden, blending with the songs of birds and the soft trickle of the fountains.
In this serene paradise, nothing else existed—no court politics, no whispers of the future. Just a family, bound by love, joy, and the quiet marvel of a child who was already the apple of his father's eye.
And so, the first year of Prince Vivaan passed in peace, laughter, and love. The kingdom may have awaited a prodigy, but for now, in the golden sunlight of the palace garden, he was simply a happy, smiling child—the heart of a family and the promise of a bright, beautiful future.