The sun had barely risen over the kingdom of Vardhana, but the palace corridors were already alive with the soft murmur of attendants and the echo of footsteps on marble floors. The air smelled of fresh incense, polished wood, and morning dew from the gardens. It was the hour of the morning court, a ritual where King Raghavendra met his advisors to discuss the matters of the kingdom.
But today, the little prince was coming along.
Vivaan, now just over a year old, sat in his father's arms, his tiny hands grasping at the air as if he wanted to touch everything around him. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, and a gentle smile played on his lips. To the King, he was the apple of his eye, radiant and calm, a presence that made even the grandest hall feel tender and alive.
The corridors of the palace were lined with nobles and ministers, all trying to steal a glance at the child who had captured the heart of their king. Whispers of awe and admiration passed among them, though none dared approach too closely—King Raghavendra's protective gaze was always upon his son.
"Father, look!" Vivaan cooed softly, pointing toward the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows. His tiny fingers wiggled with fascination, eyes fixed on the golden patterns dancing across the marble floor.
Raghavendra chuckled, holding him closer. "Ah, my little one notices even the smallest things, does he? Perhaps one day, he will see far more than even the greatest minds in this court."
The morning court began in earnest. Ministers discussed border patrols and the placement of soldiers along the mountains. The King listened, nodding thoughtfully, but his attention was often on Vivaan, who now rested comfortably in his lap. The child's head turned subtly, his eyes following the maps spread across the table.
A minister spoke about a new fortification near a strategic pass, debating the most effective position for troops. Vivaan's tiny hands reached toward the map, nudging a miniature soldier figurine on the table with surprising precision. Though he could not speak, his action suggested a better position—one that strengthened the border while ensuring easier access for reinforcements if danger arose.
King Raghavendra's eyes widened. "Vivaan… even at this age, you understand more than you should." He smiled, heart swelling with pride and amusement. Yet he kept the remark to himself, letting the court believe the child was merely playing. To Raghavendra, his son was extraordinary, but he wanted him to grow up free, happy, and innocent.
Meanwhile, the other queens watched from a distance, pregnancy round and radiant, each absorbed in the sight of their beloved child. Yashvi's eyes glimmered with warmth as she whispered, "He is growing so fast. Soon, he will have siblings to love and teach." Ishara, smiling softly, rested a hand on her belly, feeling the child inside move gently. Kavya hummed a playful tune, twins stirring as if sensing their older brother's energy.
Even the ministers, though unaware of the child's subtle guidance, could not help but marvel at the unusual serenity and poise of the little prince. Some exchanged quiet, puzzled glances, whispering among themselves about the boy who seemed so calm, so composed, and so… extraordinary, even at barely a year old.
After the court session ended, Raghavendra carried Vivaan back to the palace gardens, the boy's laughter blending with the morning birdsong. The sun bathed them in a warm glow, petals falling softly around their feet as if the universe itself celebrated this moment. The King set Vivaan on the grass, letting him crawl among the flowers, chase butterflies, and discover the textures of the garden soil.
The queens followed, laughing softly at Vivaan's curiosity, their hands gentle on his tiny back whenever he teetered. Ishara spoke softly to him about the sibling to come, while Kavya hummed songs about the twins. Yashvi, ever attentive, smiled at every small action, every delighted coo and giggle, treasuring these quiet, fleeting moments.
As the day drew on, Vivaan's presence reminded everyone of the power of joy, innocence, and love. Even in a palace filled with duty, politics, and responsibility, the little prince was a living reminder that life could still be simple, pure, and magical.
For King Raghavendra, there was a quiet certainty: this child, calm and joyful as he may seem, carried the promise of greatness. But for now, he was content to let Vivaan be a child, letting him explore, laugh, and live freely, even as the kingdom watched in awe.