The golden rays of dawn filtered through the palace windows, scattering across the marble floors of the dormitory. The faint scent of sandalwood hung in the air, mixed with the quiet hum of distant temple bells.
Vivaan stepped into the dormitory hall, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone. He paused — the air felt heavy. In front of him, Arish and Reyansh were dragging their trunks and boxes, their faces stern and unyielding.
Before he could ask, Vihaan came running toward him. The youngest prince's little feet pattered across the floor, his eyes glassy with tears.
"Bhai sa…" he cried, voice trembling, "you know what Arish bhai sa and Reyansh bhai sa did?"
Vivaan's lips curved into a patient smile. He knelt down, brushing away Vihaan's tears with gentle fingers. "What did they do, hmm?" he asked softly, his voice calm like cool water.
"Bhai sa… they took my paintings," Vihaan whispered, clutching the edge of his kurta.
Vivaan's expression hardened. He straightened, his tone suddenly commanding — the kind of authority that even silence obeys."Kunwar Arish! Kunwar Reyansh! Come here at once!"
The two elder princes, caught off guard, hurried in. Their arrogance faded beneath Vivaan's steady gaze.
"What happened, Bhai sa?" Reyansh asked, feigning innocence.
"Why did you take your younger brother's paintings?" Vivaan said, his voice low but sharp. "Return them this instant."
Reyansh's jaw tightened; his eyes shot a glare toward Vihaan — a silent threat. But this time, Vihaan didn't hide behind anyone.
Arish exhaled, rolling his eyes, and handed the rolled parchments back. "Here… take them. You'll run to Bhai sa anyway," he muttered.
The tension in the room was broken by the sound of armor — the rhythmic clink of metal and boots echoing down the corridor.
Through the grand doorway entered Minister Veer, the trusted advisor of Maharaja Raghvendra, flanked by a troop of royal soldiers. Dust swirled in the golden light as the hooves of the horses outside stamped impatiently.
Minister Veer bowed deeply. "Kunwar sa, we come under the order of His Majesty. The Maharana commands that all princes return to the palace immediately."
Vivaan nodded, his calm demeanor returning. "Prepare the horses. We leave at once."
By noon, the royal caravan reached the Kingdom of Aryavansh. The great palace stood bathed in sunlight, banners fluttering in the wind. The Maharaja and Maharani welcomed their sons with open arms, pride shining in their eyes.
That evening, the palace glowed with the warmth of laughter. The royal family gathered together — the queens draped in silks, the princes seated by the grand fireplace. Laughter mingled with the soft tune of the sitar being played in a corner.
A servant entered and bowed low, holding a golden scroll. "A message from Maharaja Ranbeer of Mahair, Your Majesty."
Maharaja Raghvendra took the scroll, broke the seal, and smiled."Ah, my dear friend Ranbeer! He invites us to Mahair. Inform everyone — we leave at first light."
The Next Morning
The sun rose over the horizon, setting the plains ablaze with amber light. The royal procession moved like a golden river — elephants adorned in silk, soldiers in gleaming armor, and the four princes on their horses.
The wind brushed through their hair as they rode. Vihaan looked up at Vivaan, his voice curious."Bhai sa, who lives in Mahair?"
Vivaan smiled faintly. "Mahair is a friend of our kingdom, Vihaan. You can say… they are our own people."
Arish and Reyansh exchanged amused glances, their pride quiet but visible.
As the towering gates of Mahair appeared in the distance, Vivaan's horse suddenly slowed. His hand gripped the reins tightly; his breath hitched.
For a moment, the world seemed to still. The sound of hooves faded, replaced by the distant hum of the wind. His heart pounded — not with fear, but with an unexplainable calm.
What is this feeling? he wondered. Why does this place feel like home?
The gates opened, revealing the palace adorned with garlands of marigold and jasmine. The air was filled with the fragrance of fresh flowers and the melody of shehnais.
From the grand staircase, Maharaja Ranbeer and Maharani Abeera stood smiling, their presence radiating warmth. As the petals showered over the guests, Vivaan lifted his eyes to the palace balcony — as if drawn by something unseen.
Queen Yashvi turned to Abeera and asked, "Where is Princess Hinaal? She must be around the same age as Arish, Reyansh, and Vihaan, right?"
At the mention of the name Hinaal, Vivaan's world shifted. His heartbeat quickened, his breath caught in his throat.
Queen Abeera laughed softly. "Oh, Hinaal… she's a little mischievous. Probably outside the palace with her friends."
But Vivaan wasn't listening anymore.The name echoed in his heart like a forgotten melody —familiar, comforting, and deeply unsettling.
"I will use some Hindi words from now on, as it will make the story feel more authentic and culturally rich."
bhai sa means brother, kunwar mean prince,