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The sun shone bright in the sky, brighter than ever before as its golden rays caressed every small being in its path. The rays were giving everyone a divine blessing as even Surya Dev was also rejoicing today, a rare, almost sacred moment of joy. Why won't he be? Today his youngest son's life would meet a fateful turn, a point that would change everything.

A young boy with dark lustrous hair stood on the ground, his beautiful eyes holding flickers of flames that denied to be extinguished. The sunshine above made his kundals glow, giving him a touch of the divine that resembled the unyielding spirit inside. "Father," His voice was soft like a feather, a whisper carried by the wind but it held an undeniable allure, "Please, I really want to learn!"

Adhirath sighed, the weight of his son's plea pressing heavily on his heart. His son's requests were always the same—wishes to learn the art of warfare, to master archery. It was a plea he had heard so many times, but today it felt different. "My son," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "You know I've never denied you anything. But this...this is beyond my power."

The son of Radha sighed heavily but his amber eyes held the resolve that was as unshaken as the mighty sun. "Father, we can try once!" He pleaded, looking at his father whose eyes flickered to the ground, "Please! I really want to learn this. To. . . To protect those I care for and. ."

"Radheya," His father started again, a bit hesitant as the guilt in his heart grew heavier. Before he could say anything, a voice, so sweet and melodious, broke through. He recognised the nectar-like sound immediately; his dear wife and the mother of their stubborn child.

Radha's heart squeezed as she watched the regular banter. She understood her child, his dreams were something to pursue. But she also understood her husband, their heart beats as one and she could feel the fear in his eyes. "Arya, let him learn." She spoke, her voice soft yet firm. She knew the power she held on her husband's heart, the way he couldn't deny her requests. Her smile tugged at her lips as she saw Radheya's eyes lit up. Those lotus eyes that have captured her heart since the first time she found him in that basket.

Adhirath's gaze flickered to the understanding one of his wife's and he felt his burdens lessening just by the mere sight of his beloved. "But priye, you know the consequences." He tried to reason but his words were weak compared to Radha who shook her head.

"How long will we keep him away from his dreams, arya? He already practices archery secretly." She said, her voice a delicate mix of concern and affection. Radha chuckled when Radheya's eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment. "We can try, just once. It will at least put that stubborn spirit at peace."

Radheya kept silent, letting his mother speak from his side. His eyes never left his father's, silently begging him to give in. "Fine." Adirath sighed, a small smile crossing him as his bubbly son immediately hugged him.

Adhirath hugged his son back, bending down to meet his height. Radha joined them, a mix of pride and happiness coursing through her as the first step to their son's dreams was taken. The sun's rays painted the family in a calming light of warmth. Radheya's face was lit up, his smile wide and radiant that rivaled the celestial body watching over them. He hugged his parents, muttering a series of thank yous.

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The wind made Radheya's hair flow back in waves, his heart beating a wild rhythm that matched the intensity of the air. He stared at the ashram of the popular guru. His grip on Adhirath's hand tightened, his knuckles whitening, as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He took a deep breath, finally he was here, ready to take the second step towards his dreams. He can do it! He has to. . He had to prove that even a mere suta could become one of the best warriors.

With a gentle tug, his father guided him inside the border of the ashram. His eyes darted to the long trees and broad leaves, the dusty ground and the house at a distance. He felt so small here, like he didn't belong in this but he pushed through the weird feeling. Finally he met the eyes of his guru and gulped down the lump forming in his throat. Oh god, he didn't think it would be this hard, didn't know he would feel so. . . .unworthy and worthless before such a legend.

"Ah, Adhirath! How are you?" Guru Dhronacharya asked, his words carefully measured. His voice was deep with the years spent learning and then teaching, giving away his knowledge and skills. His smile was small, and Adhirath's shoulders finally loosened their tense posture.

Adhirath bowed down, touching the mentor's feet out of respect and accepted the blessings with a smile. "I am well, Guru Dhronacharya." He answered, now standing straight and looking at his son who was watching the older with wide eyes, filled with awe. He smiled and tapped his son's back, signaling him to take blessings.

Broken out of his daze, Radheya shook his head and took a step forward. He looked up for a second, his amber eyes meeting the calm brown ones. He quickly looked down, the heat spreading to his cheeks as he bent down and touched the guru's feet. "Always be happy, may your heart be full of joy."

Radheya nodded and stood up, shuffling back to his father's side. He gripped the man's hand again, the warmth a comfort but also suffocation as he was still dependent on his father.

Guru Dronacharya's gaze lingered on the boy for a moment, noting the amber eyes that flickered with uncertainty. "What's his name, Adhirath?" he asked, his tone calm but curious. His eyes briefly glanced at the glimmering kundals, but he chose to focus on the boy for now.

"Vasusen!" Adhirath's voice was filled with pride as he spoke the name. Radha had chosen this name for their son when they first found him—sleeping peacefully in a basket, adorned with a golden kavach and shimmering kundals, surrounded by expensive jewelry.Vasusen itself meant 'born with wealth'. "But we all call him Radheya."

Guru Dhronacharya nodded and fixed his attention to the young boy, a mix of amusement and curiosity in the depth of his eyes. He was surprised by the young boy before him, noting the fire in his eyes. "What brings you to my humble ashram?"

This time, Radheya spoke up, his voice a little hesitant, but laced with the same unwavering resolve that had burned in him for years and had made him reach this moment. "I want to be your student! I want to learn the art of warfare and archery." His grip on his makeshift bow tightened, and he felt a swell of comfort in the eyes of his father that were filled with pride.

The guru was a bit taken aback by the request and sighed, shaking his head. His words were heavy, his voice calm but sad as he said, "No, I am sorry, young one. But this is an ashram for Kshatriyas and princes." He paused, noting the resignation in Adhirath's eyes and the hurt in Radheya's. "You are none of those. You should try finding someone else. It would be difficult as sutas can not learn warfare."

Radheya's hands balled into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he felt the fire in him grow. He spoke up again, "But. . . .God didn't ask my caste! Nor did he judge me without knowing my capabilities." He argued, his eyes meeting Adhirath and the small nod was all he needed to speak out his thoughts, "Please, test me once. If I fail, I will go. But if I succeed, will you let me stay?"

"No, young one." Guru Dronacharya's voice was firm as he shook his head in denial, "I won't go against the rules. Find another teacher." His words rang with finality, and Radheya's heart sank, but before he could protest again, he felt a gentle tug on his hand, urging him to let go.

But Radheya being the stubborn boy he was, won't accept defeat easily. He looked around the ashram for something, anything that could help him. He spotted a young boy with dark brown hair, practicing archery.

The bow's eyes narrowed in concentration as he drew the bowstring back and allowed the arrow to take flight. Radheya felt a flicker of hope as the arrow soared through the air, hitting the bullseye with precision. "Who is that?" He asked, pointing to the boy who was lost in his own world.

"That is my son. Ashwatthama." The guru smiled, his heart filled with pride as he saw his son practicing. He didn't miss the flicker of something in Radheya's eyes or the way his lips curled into a smirk.

With a plan formed, Radheya tried to persuade the teacher again, ignoring the way his father tried to urge him to go. "But, guruji," His eyes met the guru's, the flames still burning, "your son is neither a Kshatriya nor a prince. Going by your own rules, you shouldn't be teaching him either." His heart raced as he spoke, but he couldn't back down now.

Guru Dronacharya looked amused with a hint of anger at the audacity of the young boy. "Son, come on. Let's leave." Adhirath whispered, trying to make Radheya to leave the matter. "Don't worry. I will find another teacher!" Those were the last words Radheya spoke, a silent promise to himself as he walked away with his father.

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One day, Ashwattama was walking through a dense forest, trying to calm his racing thoughts and soothe his heart. He couldn't help but feel the hurt growing inside him, a beast that was eating him alive. He saw a clearing and sat down on a rock, letting the wind caress his skin and breathed in the scent of the blooming flowers.

Some days ago, the princes from the castle had come to their ashram to learn about warfare. He thought he would befriend the brothers, and well he did. But there was this biting tension, it was never Kauravas and Pandavas. It was the hundred Kauravas versus the five Pandavas.

He was on both sides, not wanting to favour anyone but he won't deny that he was a bit more on Duryodhan's side, the eldest Kaurava. Why won't he be? The third Pandava, Arjuna, had become his father's favorite. It felt as if his father liked Arjuna more than him.

He thought of his father, his gaze always soft on Arjuna, never like the sternness he reserved for him. Did his father see him as a mere shadow, something to be tolerated rather than cherished?

He found comfort with the Kauravas because more than half of the time, they were also neglected. From the people in the castle to his father, people ignored the Kauravas because they were said to bring doom to the kingdom.

His fingers gripped the bow tighter, as though holding on to something solid in a world that seemed to slip through his hands. With a sigh, he allowed his thoughts to wander in the quiet of the forest.

Suddenly he heard a shift in the bushes, his thoughts quickly retreated as he stood up, bow in hand. He was ready to strike when he saw a boy emerge, with a confused look. His chocolate brown eyes met the blazing amber ones and the world stopped for a moment.

"Who are you?" Radheya asked as he eyed the figure of the younger boy suspiciously. His gaze flickered to the bow and his grip tightened on his own bow.

For a moment, they stood in silence, each sizing the other up. Ashwatthama's fingers twitched around the bowstring, while Radheya's eyes narrowed, trying to gauge if this boy—this stranger—was friend or foe.

"Dronaputr Ashwatthama!" The boy introduced himself with a mix of caution and pride. He didn't miss that the other boy was also as observant as him, the way his eyes quickly looked him up and down for any threat. "Who are you?"

Radheya smiled, the tension in his body easing slightly as he realised the other wasn't a threat. "Adhirathputr Vasusen." He said, taking a step forward carefully, "but people call me Radheya, son of Radha."

Ashwatthama nodded slowly, he had heard tales of the other from his father, how he had come to their ashram and argued with his father. It was admirable that someone could speak up to Guru Dronacharya. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask that." Radheya rolled his eyes with a frown, keeping his bow and arrows on a rock. "I come here to practice." He gestured to the small holes in the bark of the trees.

"Oh." Was all Ashwatthama could mutter as he looked around. Embarrassment quickly followed as the realisation hit, that in the haste of his emotions, he had failed to notice his surroundings. He composed himself, ignoring the heat spreading across his cheeks as he said, "I was just roaming around and saw this area."

Radheya nodded in understanding, remembering that this was the same boy from the ashram. A smile flew to his lips as he said, "Want to practice together?" Ashwatthama's flickered with eagerness and he quickly agreed with a grin.

Two boys, four narrowed eyes, they both stood side by side. The bowstrings were drawn back, the point of the arrow shining in the sunlight as they finally let go, one by one. The arrows flew and they held their breath. Karna's arrows hit the bullseye and Ashwatthama's arrow cut through his. Both arrows were now embedded into the tree and they both cheered.

Oh how would they have known that this silent moment would lead to a strong friendship. Their eyes met again, grins widening as they picked up arrows again. And so, without realizing it, a bond was formed in that silent moment—one that would be tested, strained, and strengthened by the tides of fate. The arrows had flown, and so too had the threads that would intertwine their destinies, forever linking them in ways neither could predict.

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── ࣪˖ ࣪ Words - 2392 ࣪ ˖ ──

Okay okay!! Hello again, dear readers! This is the expanded and more detailed version as I have improved over the months and this time, wasn't under stress or time limit.

I also want to make a confession that would anger a lot of people but I have stopped caring. Originally, this story was meant to be a one-shot. Now I want to make it a book. I had this idea a while, or months, ago.

So why didn't I pursue it? Well, the thing is that. . . .Unlike all the other stories where there is a male lead and female lead. . . . .I wanted a connection between Karna and Ashwatthama. I am ready for the shouting, go on. But I will say it, I will not make any female lead, I will now make these two characters be in a relationship. 

I mean if people can read about forcing one on other, rape, sexual assault and disgusting like those, then there would be someone who would read my story. And if there is no one, I have myself who would read and re-read it a million times as a beacon of comfort and independence. 

In short - Like it or not. Read it or not. I DON'T CARE. 

-yourFEATHERS