The throne hall of Vardhana glowed with the brilliance of a hundred golden lamps. The air was thick with tension, filled with the rustle of scrolls, the scrape of armor, and the low murmur of ministers awaiting the King's word.
At the center sat King Raghavendra, regal and composed, his eyes heavy with disappointment. In front of him knelt four men, their wrists chained, faces smeared with dirt and fear. Guards stood behind them like unmoving statues, spears pressed to the marble floor.
On the King's lap sat Prince Vivaan, calm as the early dawn. Beside the throne, on smaller seats of carved sandalwood, sat the other three princes—Arish, upright and alert; Reyansh, restless and glaring; and Vihaan, wide-eyed with curiosity and innocence.
The court was majestic, but the mood—grim.
One of the senior ministers stepped forward, voice echoing through the hall.
"Your Majesty, these men were caught stealing grain from the royal granary. Their crime is undeniable. The punishment—five years of imprisonment in the royal jail, as per the law."
King Raghavendra's voice carried the weight of a ruler who loved his people but could not forgive betrayal.
"Five years," he declared firmly. "Let this be a lesson to those who think mercy lies beyond the law."
The guards bowed, ready to take the thieves away—until a soft, curious voice broke the silence.
"Father Majesty… may I ask them something?"
The King looked down at his son. His tone softened despite the stern air of judgment.
"Go on, my son."
Vivaan turned his gaze toward the trembling thieves. His voice was gentle—almost too pure for the grim air of the court.
"Why did you steal? What did you need so much that you broke our kingdom's peace?"
The men hesitated, trembling even harder. No one had ever heard a prince speak to criminals—not like this. The King's gaze hardened again, commanding authority.
"Answer the prince's question."
One of the thieves fell to his knees completely, his voice quivering.
"Mercy, Your Majesty… we stole out of hunger. Our families have not eaten in days. We took only grain, not gold. We did not mean to defy the crown."
Gasps rippled through the ministers. Some looked away, ashamed; others shook their heads coldly.
But Vivaan's small face remained calm. His eyes—bright, pure, and ancient beyond his years—never left the men.
"So," he said softly, "you stole because you were hungry.""Yes, Prince," the man whispered. "Hunger made us thieves."
The little prince looked up at his father with eyes full of sincerity and truth.
"Father Majesty," he said, voice ringing through the hall though it was soft, "if the people of our kingdom must steal to eat, then the fault is not theirs. The fault is ours."
The court froze. Not a sound.
Even the wind outside seemed to stop for that one moment.
Vivaan continued, his tone respectful yet filled with rare wisdom.
"You have always said, Father Majesty, that a king's duty is to protect his people. But if the people are starving, then how have we protected them? They do not deserve punishment—they deserve a chance. Why not give them work? Let them earn their bread with honor instead of chains. If they steal again, then punishment will be just. But for now, let mercy feed them where hunger failed."
A single tear escaped from one of the thieves' eyes.Even the hardest ministers exchanged silent looks, their confidence shaken by the words of a child who spoke like a sage.
King Raghavendra stared at his son for a long moment—his pride warring with surprise, his sternness melting into something deeper.
He finally rose, placing a firm yet tender hand on Vivaan's shoulder. His deep voice echoed through the golden hall.
"You have spoken truth, my son. A king who rules without mercy forgets that justice was born from compassion."
He turned to the guards.
"Release them. Give them work in the royal granary and palace farms. Let them feed their families with dignity."
The thieves fell to their knees again, tears of gratitude streaming down their faces.
"Long live the crown prince!" one cried. "Long live the child blessed by the gods!"
The ministers bowed deeply. Some murmured among themselves, awed and shaken.
Vivaan simply smiled—a smile that glowed with innocence, not pride.
Reyansh suddenly jumped up, his face lit with fierce pride.
"See? Didn't I tell you my brother is wiser than all of you!"
The court burst into soft laughter. Arish chuckled, shaking his head.
"You will never change, Reyansh."
Vihaan, the youngest, giggled quietly.
"Brother Vivaan makes everyone happy."
King Raghavendra's stern face softened. Even the corners of his lips lifted slightly in amusement.
"My sons," he said warmly, "one day you will understand that true strength is not in a sword's swing… but in knowing when not to use it."
Vivaan looked up at him, his tone calm yet full of meaning.
"I only did what you have always taught me, Father Majesty. That a king's heart must be strong enough to forgive and brave enough to listen."
The King's heart swelled with pride.
The palace glowed under the soft amber of twilight. In the royal dining hall, long tables shimmered with golden lamps and plates of freshly cooked food.
The royal family sat together — the King at the head, his three queens beside him, and the four princes before them.
It was a scene of peace and harmony — a family bound by love, not power.
Queen Yashvi , the first queen and Vivaan's mother, smiled gently as she looked at her son.
"You made your Father Majesty proud today," she said softly. "And you made me even prouder."
Queen Ishara laughed warmly.
"He didn't just make you proud, Sister. The whole court will speak of his wisdom for weeks."
Queen Kavya added, her eyes tender,
"He is a reflection of your teachings, my king."
King Raghavendra glanced at Vivaan, his expression soft. He took a small piece of sweet fruit and offered it to his son.
"Eat, my light," he said with quiet affection.
Vivaan smiled, bowing his head slightly.
"Thank you, Father Majesty."
He ate the bite, then turned to his brothers. In a gesture that had become a daily ritual, he took pieces from his own plate and fed Arish, Reyansh, and Vihaan in turn.
"Here, Arish," he said gently. "You must eat well to stay strong.""Reyansh, don't make that face—eat before it gets cold.""And Vihaan," he said softly, "you smile more when you eat."
The three queens shared a glance, their eyes glistening with pride.
The King chuckled lowly, watching the sight before him — his sons laughing, his wives smiling, his heart full.
"A kingdom may be built by stone and sword," he murmured, "but it stands only on love."
Vivaan looked up at him, that radiant smile gracing his lips.
"Then Vardhana will stand forever, Father Majesty."
The hall filled with soft laughter and the sound of happiness — the kind of peace that no war could take away.
Outside, the moon rose high above the palace towers, casting silver light upon the family that ruled not just by crown, but by heart.
And in that moment, every star seemed to whisper the same truth:The Prince of Justice had begun to shine.