Third-person-pov

A few thousand years ago, before the British rule in India, several renowned kingdoms flourished, and among them was the famous Simha Empire. This mighty kingdom ruled Rayanakonda for over fifty years, with each ruler known for their bravery, intelligence, and courage. The story now unfolds around Atharv Rajavardhan Simha, known as the Courageous King of the Simha Empire.

It is a no-moon night, and Rajamatha Yashoda stands on the balcony overlooking the royal court. Her eyes rest on the king's throne, its grandeur now dulled by the absence of any ruler for several months.

"Your Highness, it’s time for you to rest. Come to your chamber." says Ganga, Yashoda’s trusted maid and lifelong friend. She had come with Yashoda to the kingdom when Yashoda had married the king at just thirteen years old.

Yashoda doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the empty throne. "You go ahead. I will come shortly." she murmurs, her voice distant, lost in thought.

"Is there something troubling you, Your Highness.?" Ganga asks, noticing her friend's distraction.

Yashoda's voice breaks as she responds, still not looking away from the chair. "Look at the throne, Ganga. It has lost its luster after my husband’s death. My son once sat there, but now... no one occupies it."

She wipes away a tear, recalling how her husband, Rajavardhan Krishna Simha, had ruled for twenty years before passing away suddenly due to health complications. Her son, Vikram Rajavardhan Simha, had ruled for only five months before dying from injuries sustained in battle. He had never married, leaving no heir to take the throne.

"You are deciding the next king tomorrow, right? Rajguru ji has given you full authority." Ganga reminds her.

Yashoda sighs. "I don't know what led Rajguru ji and the Prime Minister to think I am capable of making such a monumental decision."

"People are saying you’ll announce your husband's cousin’s son as the successor." Ganga says cautiously.

Yashoda merely hums in response, knowing full well how ruthless and unscrupulous that man is.

"Come, let's leave this place," Yashoda says, turning away. As they walk, they pass the Kushthi practice area, where the sounds of training reach their ears.

"Who’s there at this hour?" Yashoda wonders aloud, walking toward the noise. She sees a young boy in his teens, practicing with a sword. His back is to her.

"Who are you?" Yashoda calls out.

The boy turns, a smile forming as he bows respectfully. "It’s me, Atharv, Your Highness."

"Atharv, what are you doing here at this late hour?" Yashoda asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"I lost a sword competition to my friend earlier today, so I’m practicing hard to defeat him tomorrow." Atharv explains.

"So competitive, just like his father," Yashoda thinks, noticing the bloodied arms of the young boy. "What happened to your arm?"

"It’s nothing, Rajamatha. Just a small fall during practice," Atharv replies, though his face shows the strain.

"How can you be so careless? Ganga, bring some cotton and turmeric," Yashoda orders, gesturing for Atharv to sit. "Sit here."

Atharv protests, but Yashoda insists, gently pulling him into the chair beside her. Ganga quickly brings the necessary supplies, and Yashoda begins tending to his wound.

"Ah!" Atharv winces as she applies the turmeric.

"If it hurts, why are you practicing so late?" Yashoda asks as she carefully wraps the cloth around his arm.

"I hate losing," Atharv admits, his voice trembling with emotion as he recalls how his mother used to care for him. Tears well up in his eyes.

Yashoda observes a scar on his neck, one that appears to be old. "What happened to your neck?"

Atharv looks down, his eyes growing misty. "It was during the war. I tried to protect Vikram Bhaiya from the enemies," he says, his voice cracking.

"Why are you crying, Atharv? Does the wound still hurt?" Yashoda asks with concern.

"I just remembered my mother. She used to take care of me like this," Atharv says, wiping his tears as he stands. "I should leave now, Rajamatha. Dhanyavaad."

As he walks away, Yashoda watches him, her heart heavy. He is just like my husband, she thinks, realizing something she had never seen before. Atharv embodies the bravery and courage of her late husband, Rajavardhan Krishna Simha.

Sitting there, she reflects on the years gone by. She recalls how, just five years after her marriage, her husband had taken another wife, Devaki. Though polygamy was common in those days, it was a painful shock for Yashoda, especially since Devaki was not from a royal family. Devaki had lived in a separate house attached to the palace, and despite bearing Atharv, the kingdom never accepted her as part of the royal family.

"I was naive, back then," Yashoda murmurs. "I thought Devaki came between me and my husband. But the truth is... I was the one who came between them. Rajavardhan always said she was his first love, and maybe that’s why he died so soon after she did. Perhaps that’s what true love is."

Ganga looks at Yashoda sympathetically. "It’s getting late, Rajamatha."

Yashoda nods, her thoughts scattered. Together, they leave the balcony and head to Yashoda's chamber to rest.
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The next morning, Yashoda stands before her late husband’s portrait. She places two flowers—one red, one green—near it, seeking his blessing. A gust of wind sweeps through the room, knocking the green flower to the ground. The red one remains standing. A small smile forms on Yashoda’s face. I will take this as your blessing, she thinks as she bows her head in reverence.

A soldier enters and announces, "Rajamatha, the court is assembled and awaiting your decision."

Yashoda stands tall and nods. "Let’s go."

As she walks through the palace, she passes Atharv again, practicing in the Kushthi area. She watches him for a moment before continuing to the court hall, where everyone waits in anticipation.

Once inside, the Prime Minister speaks. "Rajamatha, we eagerly await your decision."

Yashoda takes a deep breath and addresses the gathered council. "I have made my decision, and I ask for your respect in this matter." She pauses, allowing the words to sink in. "I hereby declare that Atharv Rajavardhan Simha will be the next King of Rayanakonda."

The court erupts in joyous applause, everyone except Yashoda's brother, Vimal Adikari, who looks displeased by the announcement.

"I have thought long and hard about this," Yashoda continues, her voice steady. "I believe it is the right choice for the kingdom."

The Prime Minister and Rajguru offer their congratulations. "Your Highness, it is a wise decision." Rajguru says, nodding approvingly.

Yashoda turns to Rajguru. "Please inform us of the auspicious time for the coronation next week."

"Of course," Rajguru replies. "I will provide the details soon."

"Thank you. Everyone is dismissed. Please send Atharv to my chamber," Yashoda instructs, and the court slowly disperses.

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Later, in the Kushthi area, Atharv is practicing with his sword when his sister, Aadrika, runs up to him. "Bhaiya, you’ve been chosen as the next king!" she exclaims with excitement.

Atharv looks at her in disbelief. "What? Are you joking?"

"No, Bhaiya, it’s true! Rajamatha has declared you as the new king!" Aadrika laughs, nearly jumping with joy.

Atharv stands frozen for a moment, processing the news. "Wait, what?" he mutters, barely able to comprehend the magnitude of it. The Prime Minister, standing nearby, confirms the announcement.

"It’s true, Atharv. Rajamatha has chosen you. She wants to see you in her chamber immediately."

With a burst of energy, Atharv runs to Yashoda's chamber, his heart pounding.
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Inside the chamber, Yashoda is speaking with her brother, Vimal. "Your decision is a mistake," Vimal argues, but Yashoda silences him with a wave.

"Don’t question my decision," Yashoda says firmly. "I’ve made it for the good of the kingdom."

Just then, a maid enters and announces, "Rajamatha, Atharv is here to meet you."

"Send him in," Yashoda says.

As Atharv steps inside, his voice is shaky. "Rajamatha..."

"Sit down, Atharv. I know you’re overwhelmed," Yashoda says warmly, gesturing for him to sit beside her.

"Why me? I’m not even from a royal family," Atharv asks, his voice filled with doubt.

Yashoda places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don’t doubt yourself, young man. You have all the qualities of a great king."

"But I’m only fourteen," Atharv protests, his voice filled with doubt. "I’m too young to be king."

Yashoda chuckles softly. "Your father was just twelve when he became king. Age is just a number. What matters is your ability to lead. And you are more than capable. We will all be here to support you."

Atharv looks down, his thoughts drifting to his late mother. "I wish Amma were here. She would have been so proud of me." he murmurs.

Yashoda reaches out and gently lifts his chin, meeting his eyes. "Don’t you think of me as your mother?" she asks, her voice tender.

Atharv nods, his throat tight with emotion. "I do…"

"Then call me Amma." Yashoda says with a soft smile.

Atharv hugs her tightly, the weight of his emotions overwhelming him. "Thank you, Amma." he whispers, his voice shaking with gratitude and relief.

Yashoda strokes his back gently. "It’s okay, my son. But promise me one thing: You will rule with courage, confidence, and compassion. You will never let me regret my decision."

Atharv pulls back slightly, wiping away his tears. He looks at her with determination in his eyes. "I promise, Amma. I will rule courageously, and I will never let you down."

Yashoda smiles, her heart swelling with pride. "I know you will. You are the future of this kingdom."
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Meanwhile, in Tulasipatnam, the Chakravarthy Empire is facing financial strain.

"We only have enough funds to last two more years," the Prime Minister reports.

Surya Chakravarthy, the King of the Chakravarthy Empire, sits back in his chair, unperturbed. "Two years is plenty. We’ll find a way to restore our finances," he assures them.

One of the ministers, however, expresses concern. "But Rajamatha of Rayakonda has chosen a new king. What if he declares war on us? We don’t have the resources to fight."

Surya waves a hand dismissively. "We’ll deal with that if it comes to it. For now, we need to focus on our own kingdom."

His mother enters the room, looking concerned. "I’ve told you before, Surya—your daughter is the cause of all these troubles. Marry her off and send her away. That’s the only solution."

Surya looks at her with a weary smile. "I know, mother. But she’s only twelve. We’ll give it some time and see if the situation improves."

His mother doesn’t seem convinced, but she leaves him to his thoughts. Surya leans back in his chair, pondering. My mother may be right, he thinks. But my daughter is too young to marry off. I’ll wait and see how things unfold.
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Back in Rayanakonda, Atharv, now with the weight of his new responsibilities as the future king, prepares for what lies ahead. The coronation is scheduled, and the kingdom’s future rests on his shoulders. But with the support of his mother figure, Rajamatha Yashoda, and his own fierce determination, Atharv knows that he will face the challenges ahead with courage.

As the days pass and the coronation nears, Atharv reflects on everything he’s learned—from the sword fights with his friends to the wisdom passed down from his late father, and the guidance of Rajamatha Yashoda. With every passing day, he grows more confident in his role as the future ruler of Rayanakonda.

Hey all

How's the chapter?

This is just a prologue, story starts from next chapter.

I will upload it very soon.

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