The first light of dawn brushed the white marble of Vardhana Palace, casting a soft golden glow over the royal courtyard. Birds sang from the flowering vines that climbed the palace walls, and the fragrance of sandalwood drifted through the corridors.
Inside the great dining hall, laughter and warmth filled the morning air. The royal family had gathered — King Raghavendra, seated at the head of the long carved table, his eyes glowing with pride; beside him sat his three queens, radiant and gentle; and before them, like living jewels of the realm, sat the four princes.
Prince Vivaan, now ten years old, was no longer a fragile infant but a boy of quiet grace. His every movement carried calm strength; his smile shone with the same light that had once marked his miraculous birth.
Beside him, Prince Arish, sturdy and composed, straightened his posture like a soldier even before lifting his spoon. Prince Reyansh, fiery-eyed, fiddled impatiently with a piece of fruit, his energy barely contained. Prince Vihaan, the youngest, watched Vivaan with open admiration, his gentle hands folded neatly on the table.
As the royal attendants served the morning meal, King Raghavendra's deep voice echoed through the hall."Vivaan, my son," he said warmly, "come closer."
Vivaan rose, bowing respectfully. "Yes, Father Majesty?"
The King smiled, motioning for him to sit beside him. "You grow wiser and taller every sunrise. Soon, you will be looking down on me."
A small, amused laugh rippled through the table. Vivaan's eyes shone with humor. "That day will never come, Father Majesty. Even if I stand taller, I will still look up to you."
King Raghavendra chuckled, a rare, unrestrained sound. "Ha! You always know how to answer like a king."
He lifted a golden spoon and offered the first bite to Vivaan — a tradition that had not changed since the boy's first year. Vivaan accepted it with quiet gratitude, then, as always, turned to feed his younger brothers.
Arish bowed his head before taking a bite from Vivaan's hand. "Brother, one day, I will earn the honor to feed you in return."
Vivaan smiled softly. "Then you must train harder than I do, Arish. That is how you can serve — not by duty, but by strength."
Next came Reyansh, his fiery eyes softening for a moment as he leaned forward. "Brother, hurry! You take too long feeding him," he said, pointing at Arish. "I'll starve before my turn comes!"
Vivaan chuckled, holding out the spoon toward him. "And yet, you are always the first to steal from Vihaan's plate."
The table erupted in laughter. Reyansh flushed slightly, then grinned. "He eats too slow!"
Vihaan, smiling shyly, murmured, "Because I like to listen when Brother Vivaan talks."
The King's eyes softened at the sight. He rested his chin on his hand, watching his sons share warmth and teasing. "Four sons, four flames," he said quietly. "But only one heart among them."
Queen Ishara smiled proudly. "That is the heart of Vivaan, my lord. The same heart that binds them all."
The King looked at Vivaan, who was now gently wiping Vihaan's cheek where a bit of porridge had smeared."Indeed," the King said softly. "The kingdom could ask for no greater bond."
After the meal, the servants cleared the dishes, and sunlight poured into the room like liquid gold.
King Raghavendra rose, his robes shimmering with the symbols of his reign. "My sons," he said, "today, we welcome the royal family of Ranasar — King Darius, his Queen, and their son, Prince Kael. They come seeking friendship and alliance. I want you four to greet them with the dignity of Vardhana's heirs."
The brothers stood, straightening instantly. "Yes, Father Majesty," they said in unison.
The King's gaze lingered on Vivaan. "You will lead them through the palace, my son. Show them what makes our home worthy of pride. Let them see the strength that does not shout — only shines."
Vivaan bowed his head respectfully. "It will be my honor, Father Majesty."
As the princes left the hall, their laughter and light steps echoed down the grand corridor. The King remained standing, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched them go.
He turned to Queen Ishara and said softly, "Do you see, my queen? He guides without commanding, teaches without speaking too much, and loves without limit. When I look at Vivaan, I see the kind of ruler the world has forgotten."
The Queen's eyes shimmered with emotion. "Then may the world remember through him."
Outside, in the royal gardens, the brothers walked side by side beneath the morning sun — the eldest radiant and serene, the others orbiting him like stars around a steady light.
They did not yet know what awaited them that afternoon — or how the calm of their bond would be tested before the day's end.
The royal courtyard buzzed with anticipation as the visitors from Ranasar Kingdom arrived. Bright banners fluttered in the wind, and guards stood in polished armor, their spears glinting under the noon sun.
The grand gates opened, revealing King Darius of Ranasar — a tall, broad man with a golden crown and eyes sharp as steel. At his side walked Queen Selene, draped in silver silks, and behind them strode their son, Prince Kael, about thirteen — older than Vivaan, yet bearing a smirk that already spoke of arrogance.
King Raghavendra and his family stood to welcome them. "Welcome to Vardhana," the King declared, his voice carrying the weight of pride and peace.
"The honor is ours, King Raghavendra," Darius replied, bowing slightly. His gaze then fell upon the princes — especially Vivaan, whose presence seemed to command quiet attention even without words.
After the greetings, the King turned toward his eldest."Vivaan, my son — show our guests the palace. Let them see the heart of Vardhana through your eyes."
Vivaan bowed gracefully. "Yes, Father Majesty."
The four brothers led Prince Kael and his attendants through the glittering halls. Murals of ancestors lined the walls, each one a story of valor and wisdom. Vivaan spoke with calm confidence, his tone neither boastful nor shy — the perfect reflection of nobility.
"This corridor leads to the Hall of Mirrors," Vivaan explained. "It reflects not only the light of the palace, but also the strength of those who protect it."
Kael scoffed lightly. "Pretty mirrors for a pretty palace. But do they reflect strength… or vanity?"
Reyansh, ever quick to react, stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "Watch your words, foreign prince," he hissed. "You are standing on sacred ground."
"Reyansh," Vivaan said gently, touching his brother's shoulder. His voice was calm — yet carried authority that silenced the air. "Guests may speak freely. We must learn to see the difference between insult and ignorance."
Kael smirked at that. "Wise words from a child. Tell me, Prince Vivaan — are all Vardhana princes so obedient? Or only you?"
Vivaan's lips curved into a small smile. "Obedience is not weakness, Prince Kael. It is the discipline that builds empires."
Even Kael blinked at that, caught off guard for a moment. But his pride refused to yield. "Perhaps," he said. "Yet an empire is nothing without warriors."
Vivaan's eyes glinted — calm, but unreadable. "Then perhaps you would like to see ours."
They arrived at the vast courtyard where soldiers trained in unison. The clang of swords and the rhythm of marching boots filled the air. Bows snapped arrows across the field, striking the bullseyes with perfect precision.
Prince Kael's smirk returned. "Impressive drills. But let's see how the princes of Vardhana fare."
Without waiting for an answer, he picked up a wooden practice sword and swung it with practiced ease. "Care for a friendly duel, Prince Vivaan? Unless your smile is sharper than your blade."
Reyansh's bowstring twitched. "Say another word, and I'll make sure you never speak again!"
"Reyansh!" Vivaan's voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the tension like steel. His tone carried no anger — just quiet authority. "Step back."
He turned to Kael and smiled faintly. "A duel without anger is sport. But one with pride is foolishness. I do not raise my sword to prove my worth."
Kael laughed mockingly. "Then you are afraid."
Vivaan's eyes softened, though his aura seemed to grow heavier, commanding silence around him. "No, Prince Kael. I am not afraid to lose — I am afraid you might learn what true strength is."
That line hung in the air. Even the soldiers paused their drills to glance toward the young prince.
Kael flushed with anger. "Enough talk!" He lunged forward — but before his blade reached, Vivaan sidestepped smoothly, tapping the hilt of Kael's sword with his own. The foreign prince's weapon flew from his hand, clattering against the ground.
Reyansh's proud laughter echoed. "That's my brother!"
Arish and Vihaan clapped quietly, their faces glowing with admiration.
Vivaan didn't gloat. He bowed respectfully and offered Kael his hand to stand. "A prince's worth is not in how he strikes," he said softly, "but in how he rises after being struck."
Kael hesitated — then slowly took the offered hand.
From the palace balcony, King Raghavendra watched it all unfold. A faint smile touched his lips. "Even when he wins," he murmured, "he teaches."
Queen Ishara beside him sighed softly. "Our Vivaan will one day rule not by fear… but by light."
As the sun dipped low, the visiting King approached Vivaan personally. "You have a rare grace, young prince," King Darius said, his earlier arrogance fading. "Your kingdom is fortunate."
Vivaan bowed. "Fortune favors us only if we honor it with peace."
The King chuckled. "And yet, your blade spoke louder than your peace today."
Vivaan's smile deepened slightly. "Sometimes peace needs a sword to protect it, Your Majesty."
The Ranasar King looked at him thoughtfully before turning away.
Reyansh grinned wide and threw an arm around Vivaan's shoulder. "You could've told me before you disarmed him, Brother! I missed the fun!"
Vivaan laughed softly. "Reyansh, your fun always ends with broken walls and angry mothers."
Even Arish chuckled. "He's right, Reyansh. Next time, try not to challenge every guest we have."
Vihaan looked up shyly. "Brother Vivaan… you were amazing."
Vivaan smiled and brushed his youngest brother's hair. "No, Vihaan. We were amazing. Because while I stood there, I knew — my brothers were ready to fight for me, even if I asked them not to."
The four brothers shared a quiet laugh as they walked back toward the palace, their silhouettes painted by the evening sun — one light, three shadows following faithfully behind.
And thus the kingdom of Vardhana whispered the name of their future ruler —"Prince Vivaan, the Light That Guides the Shadows."