The royal dining hall glowed in soft amber light, candles flickering across golden walls adorned with ancient murals of past kings. The long marble table stretched beneath a grand chandelier, where the royal family sat together — laughter mingling with the soft clinking of silverware.
King Raghavendra leaned back on his carved throne-chair, watching his sons with quiet pride.Four princes — his life's jewels — sat before him. The eldest, Prince Vivaan, calm and composed even at ten, guided his younger brothers with gentle gestures and warm smiles.
Beside him sat Arish, ever bold and spirited; Reyansh, fierce and fiery; and Vihaan, the youngest, whose curious eyes always followed Vivaan like the morning follows the sun.
The three queens — Queen Ishara, Queen Kavya, and Queen Yashvi — sat gracefully across the table, each radiating maternal affection.
The aroma of roasted almonds and saffron milk filled the air. Vihaan giggled as Vivaan carefully poured water into his cup. Reyansh teased Arish for dropping a piece of bread, and the laughter of the brothers echoed like music.
But amid the laughter, the King's eyes softened — and then grew serious.
He placed down his cup. "My sons," his deep voice broke through the chatter, "you are no longer the infants who once played with wooden swords in these halls."
The room fell silent.
Vivaan's head turned toward his father, his expression calm but attentive. The younger princes straightened in their seats instinctively.
King Raghavendra's gaze lingered on each of them before settling on his eldest. "The time has come for you to begin your training. Not only in combat — but in statecraft, diplomacy, and the art of ruling."
Queen Yashvi 's eyes glistened with emotion. Queen Ishara lowered her gaze, hands clasped tightly. Queen Kavya exhaled softly — as though she'd known this day would come but hoped it might be later.
The princes did not protest.No childish fear, no excitement — only calm acceptance.
And all because Vivaan's face remained composed. His serenity was like still water — and his brothers mirrored it.
The King smiled faintly. "You accept so calmly. No fear, no joy?"
Vivaan bowed slightly. "Father Majesty, a command from you is a blessing. We will learn what is needed to serve our people well."
The other princes nodded in unison.
Reyansh spoke next, his tone firm. "If Brother Vivaan walks the path, then we walk beside him."
King Raghavendra's chest swelled with pride. His sons were still boys — but their unity made them greater than men.
Queen Ishara rose, her silken gown brushing softly against the marble floor. "Your Majesty," she said gently, "our sons are young, but their hearts are already shaped by their brother's light."
She turned toward her own son, Arish, and cupped his cheek lovingly. "My son, remember — your brother Vivaan is not only your elder but your guide. Follow him as you would follow your father. Protect him, obey him, and never let envy shadow your heart."
Queen Kavya stood next, resting her hand on Reyansh and Vihaan's shoulders. "And you two — your brother is your dawn and your shield. Guard him from harm, even if the world itself turns against him."
The eldest queen, Yashvi , smiled softly. "Our family stands together not by birthright, but by love."
For a moment, the air grew thick with emotion.Four young princes sat still, their hearts heavy with a sense of destiny far greater than their age could hold.
King Raghavendra looked around the table — three queens speaking as one, and four sons bound by unspoken loyalty. His gaze stopped on Vivaan, whose eyes reflected calm wisdom far beyond ten years.
Pride filled him — yet a shadow of worry whispered at the edges of his thoughts.
Such gentleness… such purity. The court will not understand him. The world may see softness as weakness. But they will not know how strong this light already is.
The meal ended quietly. The candles burned lower as servants cleared the plates. The queens excused themselves with the younger princes, but as Vivaan rose, his father's voice stopped him.
"Vivaan," the King said softly, "stay a while."
Vivaan bowed slightly and resumed his seat beside his father.
When the hall emptied, silence filled the air — the kind that only truth could break.
King Raghavendra leaned forward, studying his son's face. "You have a calm spirit, my child. Too calm, perhaps, for a prince who will one day command armies."
Vivaan met his father's gaze, unflinching. "Father Majesty, to command others, one must first command himself."
The King chuckled lowly, though the wisdom of the words stirred something deep within him. "And yet the world beyond these walls does not yield to peace alone, Vivaan. You will have to fight — someday, someone will test your kindness."
Vivaan's expression didn't change. "Then I will fight when there is no other way left."
The King's smile faded into thought. "You would avoid violence?"
"I would avoid blood that can be saved," Vivaan said softly. "A sword should defend, not dominate. The people follow the one who listens, not the one who shouts the loudest."
For a long moment, King Raghavendra simply stared at him — torn between awe and disbelief that such clarity came from a boy barely ten.
Then he exhaled, leaning back. "Perhaps you were born too wise for this world, my son."
Vivaan lowered his gaze humbly. "Wisdom is useless if it does not ease the burdens of others."
Raghavendra's hand tightened on the armrest. His eyes, however, softened."There is one more burden that troubles me — not of war, but of men."
Vivaan looked up. "Theft?"
The King nodded. "Yes. Not gold, but water. Some villagers steal from royal wells to sell for higher prices. It spreads unrest among the commoners. I'm told punishment may be the only way to restore order."
Vivaan's brow furrowed slightly. "Punishment for greed rarely ends greed, Father Majesty. It only hides it."
Raghavendra raised a brow. "Then what would you do?"
Vivaan took a moment before answering — thoughtful, composed. "The wells belong to the crown, but the crown belongs to the people. If men steal water to profit, it is because profit exists in secret. Remove the secrecy."
The King tilted his head slightly, intrigued.
"Make water trade a royal matter," Vivaan continued. "Fix the price for all. Let the palace regulate its sale under your name. Anyone who sells beyond the fair cost would face royal penalty. If the price is just and open, there will be no thieves — for no one steals what all can afford."
The King sat in silence.
The torches flickered. Outside, the wind carried the faint rustle of night leaves.
Finally, Raghavendra whispered, "To make greed starve by feeding fairness… you would rule hearts before you rule laws."
Vivaan smiled faintly. "A king who rules hearts never loses his throne, Father Majesty."
For the first time that evening, emotion flickered in the King's eyes — pride, awe, and something like peace. He stood slowly and walked toward his son.
"Come here, Vivaan."
Vivaan obeyed.
The King placed his hand on his son's head — not as a monarch blessing an heir, but as a father blessing a child. His voice was low, thick with feeling.
"One day, this kingdom will rest in your hands. When that day comes, I pray the gods grant me the honor to see the man you become."
Vivaan's lips curved in a small, humble smile. "Then I pray the man I become is worthy of your belief."
The King chuckled softly and pulled him into a gentle embrace. "You already are."
For a moment, time stood still — father and son, ruler and heir, heart and hope.
When Vivaan finally stepped away, the moonlight streaming through the high windows fell across his face. He turned toward the open balcony and walked slowly, his soft steps echoing against marble.
Outside, the night was quiet — the kingdom asleep under the silver glow of peace.
King Raghavendra stood behind him, watching the boy's silhouette framed by the moon.
So calm, so radiant… the dawn has already begun to rise.
Vivaan turned slightly, sensing his father's gaze. A small, knowing smile crossed his lips — not of arrogance, but of understanding.
"Good night, Father Majesty," he said softly.
And with that, the ten-year-old prince walked down the corridor — small, steady steps carrying the weight of a future that even the stars seemed to bow before.