The morning sun poured through the carved jharokhas of Mahair's grand palace, painting the marble corridors in gold and amber. The soft chime of temple bells echoed through the courtyards as birds circled the palace dome, their wings catching the light. The fragrance of sandalwood incense drifted in the air, mixing with the crisp scent of the early breeze.
Inside the audience hall, the four princes stood before Maharaja Raghvendra and Queen Yashvi, dressed in light royal attire, their swords hanging proudly by their sides.
"Father, may we go outside the palace for a while?" Vivaan asked, bowing slightly. "We'll return by evening. I wish to see how the people of Mahair live — to know their ways."
Maharaja Raghvendra's stern expression softened. His eyes lingered on his eldest son — composed, intelligent, and calm beyond his years. Pride glowed in his gaze."Go, my son," he said with a smile. "Enjoy the day. Observe, learn — but take care of your brothers."
Vivaan bowed with respect. "Ji, Pita sa."
The princes saluted their parents and left, their laughter echoing faintly down the long, stone passageway.
Outside the palace gates, the sunlight spilled across the kingdom of Mahair — streets alive with color and sound. Vendors called out their wares, spreading bolts of fabric that glowed like jewels; children ran barefoot, playing with wooden wheels and kites; the smell of roasted grains and cardamom sweets filled the air.
The four young princes rode through the market on their majestic horses, escorted by two guards who kept a respectful distance.
Vivaan rode slightly ahead — his back straight, eyes quietly observing everything: the laughter of merchants, the rhythm of hammers from the blacksmith's corner, the chatter of village women selling flowers. His heart felt light. This world outside the palace had its own beauty — simple, alive, real.
Vihaan's small voice broke his thoughts. "Bhai sa, look! Toys!" he exclaimed, pointing excitedly toward a bright stall decorated with wooden horses, spinning tops, and painted dolls.
Arish and Reyansh burst out laughing."You're still such a child, Vihaan," Reyansh teased. "We're your age — we buy swords, not toys!"
Vihaan's joy faded. His little fingers gripped the reins tighter as he lowered his gaze, eyes glimmering with hurt. He looked up at Vivaan — silently asking for comfort, as if his heart whispered, Bhai sa, stand with me.
Though Vivaan's gaze had been scanning the crowd, his attention never truly left his brothers. He turned his horse slightly, his calm but firm voice cutting through their laughter."Reyansh," he said, "enough. Don't mock your brother."
Reyansh's face sobered instantly. "Yes, Bhai sa," he said quietly.
Then Vivaan smiled down at Vihaan, his tone soft again. "You want those toys, hmm? Come — let's buy them."
He dismounted gracefully, his long white kurta swaying with the motion. Dust rose around his boots as he handed the reins to a guard."Arish, Reyansh," he said, "go with Vihaan. Let him choose whatever he likes. And no fighting — understood?"
Both nodded, exchanging sheepish glances, and followed their youngest brother to the stall.
Vivaan remained behind, stroking his horse's mane absently — but his sharp eyes had already noticed something unusual.
At first, it was just a flicker of movement behind the marble pillars near the temple gate. Then another. And another.
Ten men, dressed in plain cloth, their eyes restless, their postures wrong for commoners. They were trying to stay unseen — shifting from shadow to shadow, pretending to browse the market.
Vivaan's instincts sharpened. They're trained, he thought, watching how their hands hovered near hidden weapons. But they're not here for us… their eyes are fixed somewhere else.
He followed their line of sight discreetly.
There, near the old banyan tree, a group of children were playing — three girls and three boys, all around ten years old. Their laughter rang like temple bells. One girl stood out among them — long dark hair braided neatly, the sun glinting on her bangles as she laughed. Her voice was light, free, and innocent.
Her, Vivaan realized. They're watching her.
He didn't move. Even at eleven, his patience and focus were exceptional. He had been trained by warriors, mentored by scholars — but something deeper guided him now. Calmly, he mapped the positions of all ten men in his mind, never breaking his façade of quiet curiosity.
Then, suddenly — chaos.
A sharp shout cut through the air.
The ten men moved as one, lunging toward the children. Screams erupted. One of the men grabbed the girl — their clear target — and hoisted her onto a horse. She kicked and struggled, her cries for help tearing through the marketplace.
Vivaan's composure vanished — replaced by fierce resolve.
In a single motion, he leapt onto his horse, pulled the reins tight, and kicked forward. The beast surged ahead, its hooves striking sparks on the stone.
"Bhai sa!" Arish shouted as he saw him take off. The three brothers dropped their toys and ran to their own horses, chasing after him through the crowded streets.
Dust rose behind Vivaan's horse like a storm. His sword flashed in the sunlight, unsheathed with practiced grace. The kidnappers, startled by the thunder of hooves behind them, turned — but too late.
Vivaan's horse cut across their path, blocking the road. The prince's face was calm but deadly serious.
"Stop!" he commanded. "Do you even know what you're doing? Kidnapping a girl in our kingdom — that mistake can cost you your lives."
The leader laughed mockingly. "Look at this child! He thinks he's a warrior! Go home, boy — before you hurt yourself."
Vivaan's eyes flicked to the unconscious girl slumped against the saddle, strands of hair hiding her frightened face. His grip on the sword tightened.
"I'll say this once more," he said, voice low, steady as steel. "Release her. Or I will fight. And once I fight — I don't stop until it's over."
The men roared with laughter — and then charged.
Vivaan's horse reared high, neighing sharply. The first attacker swung his blade — but Vivaan was faster. He ducked, pivoted, and slashed upward. A single clean strike. The man fell to the ground, motionless.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then fury.
The remaining nine descended on him, swords flashing. The market emptied in fear, cries echoing through the street.
But Vivaan moved like a storm — every strike measured, graceful, lethal. The clang of steel rang against the walls; dust and wind whirled around him. When the final blow fell, the square was still.
Ten men lay defeated at the young prince's feet.
Vivaan exhaled, lowering his sword. His chest rose and fell — but his eyes remained calm. He turned toward the girl, still unconscious on the ground.
Kneeling beside her, he brushed her hair gently from her face.
And froze.
She was… beautiful. Not in a royal way — but in a way that felt divine. Her skin glowed softly in the sunlight, her features delicate and calm. For a moment, Vivaan's heart skipped, his breath caught — the world seemed to fade away.
He blinked and composed himself, lightly tapping her cheek. "Hey… wake up. You're safe now."
Her eyes fluttered open — wide, frightened, searching. "Who are you?" she whispered.
Vivaan smiled gently. "I'm Prince Vivaan of Ary. I came to help you. Who are you — and why were they after you?"
She stood shakily, clutching her dupatta. "I'm Princess Hinaal," she said, her voice trembling but proud. "Those men… they're from a gang in the mountains. They've tried to kidnap me before. No one's been able to catch them — they vanish into the hills."
Vivaan nodded with understanding, his eyes kind but steady. "Then let me take you home, Princess. Your parents must be waiting."
Hinaal looked at him, truly seeing him now — his calm presence, his quiet bravery, his eyes that looked far older than his age. Her heart fluttered with a strange warmth she couldn't name. But she knew one thing — she could trust him completely.
Hooves sounded again — Arish, Reyansh, and Vihaan rode in, gasping at the sight.
"Oh, Bhai sa!" Reyansh exclaimed, eyes wide. "You fought them all alone? Looks like you had all the fun to yourself!"
Then his gaze fell on the girl beside him. "And who's this?"
Before Vivaan could speak, Hinaal, still nervous and flustered, blurted out, "I… I'm your aunt!"
The three brothers froze — and then Vihaan burst into laughter so loud it startled the horses."Bhai sa!" he giggled, "Looks like someone finally came who can make these two quiet!"
Arish and Reyansh groaned in unison while Vivaan chuckled softly — the rare kind of smile that warmed his face like sunlight.
"These are my brothers," Vivaan said gently to her, "and this is Princess Hinaal. Behave, both of you."
He turned to her again. "Come. I'll take you to the palace."
Hinaal nodded quietly, and together they mounted the horse.
When they reached the palace, the courtyard was in chaos — guards running, ministers shouting, the queens in tears.
"Hinaal!" Maharaja Ranbeer cried, rushing forward. He pulled his daughter into his arms, kissing her forehead again and again. "Thank the heavens you're safe, my child!"
Only after holding her close did his gaze fall upon Vivaan — the young prince standing still, his tunic splattered faintly with dust and blood, his sword sheathed, his expression calm and humble.
Maharaja Ranbeer stepped forward, emotion thick in his voice."An eleven-year-old boy," he said softly, "faced ten armed men and saved my daughter… my life's most precious treasure."
He folded his hands before Vivaan. "Prince Vivaan, you have not only saved my child — you have honored both our kingdoms."
Maharaja Raghvendra placed his hand proudly on his son's shoulder. "He is my son," he said, eyes gleaming.
And as the court fell silent, all eyes turned toward the boy — standing with quiet dignity beneath the golden light of the palace — the young prince whose courage marked the beginning of a destiny neither kingdom could yet imagine.