The Year 1665, Aryanagar

It was a day of immense anticipation in the kingdom of Aryanagar. The grand palace stood proudly under a clear sky, bustling with activity. King Bhimrao and his beloved Queen Suryalekha were expecting their first child. The people of Aryanagar had been eagerly waiting for this moment; the royal family would finally welcome a prince, and the kingdom would have an heir to the throne.

Inside the palace, every corner was being decorated with rich fabrics and flowers. The scent of incense filled the air, and musicians were rehearsing joyful tunes, waiting for the news of the prince's arrival. The city of Aryanagar itself had donned a festive spirit, with the streets lined with merchants selling sweets, fireworks, and colorful garments. Every citizen's heart swelled with pride, knowing that their king would soon have a son.

But as joyous as this occasion was, there was an unspoken tension in the air that lingered beneath the surface.

King Bhimrao stood in his chamber, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through him. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, pacing anxiously. His mind raced with thoughts of his son's future.

Suddenly, the silence of his thoughts was interrupted by a faint cry from across the palace, followed by hurried footsteps echoing down the grand hallway. Two maids came running into the king's chamber, their faces lit with excitement.

"Maharaj ki jai ho! Mubarak ho! You have a son!" one of them exclaimed.

Bhimrao's heart swelled with indescribable happiness. He let out a laugh of pure joy and immediately grabbed a plate of gold coins from the side table, showering the maids with them in his overwhelming glee.

"Take these, and spread the word! My son has arrived!" he cried out, before rushing to the queen's chamber.

Inside the royal quarters, Queen Suryalekha lay on the bed, cradling their newborn son. The scene before Bhimrao melted his heart. His queen looked tired but radiant, smiling down at the baby. Bhimrao approached slowly, his eyes fixated on the child.

"You were right, my queen," Bhimrao said as he sat beside her. "Our lives have been blessed with happiness once again."

Suryalekha looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "I told you, Maharaj. We have been given a gift by the gods."

Bhimrao gently took the baby in his arms, his heart full of pride. "He will be a great warrior. The world will speak of him for generations. His name will be Aryan—Prince Aryan of Aryanagar."

Queen Suryalekha watched with affection as her husband marveled at their son. With a quiet smile, she nodded, performing the ritual of "nazar utarna" to protect both her husband and son from any evil eyes.

While the palace was filled with joy, a very different scene unfolded in another corner. Jai Veer Rao, Bhimrao's elder brother, stood in his chambers, seething with anger. He had lost his chance at the throne years ago when he failed to win the royal competition—a tradition in Aryanagar that demanded the next king prove his worth through trials. Bhimrao had bested him, and the kingdom had hailed Bhimrao as the rightful ruler.

Despite the passing years, Jai Veer's bitterness had only grown. He had always dreamed of ruling from the throne that his younger brother now occupied. But more than that, he dreamt of seeing his own son take the seat of power that he had been denied.

As he stood brooding, his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his brother-in-law, Keshi.

"Jija ji, what's the use of anger now?" Keshi asked, trying to soothe him. "Think of your own child. The kingdom doesn't belong to Bhimrao forever."

"How can I not be angry, Keshi? Every time, I lose to Bhimrao. Every time!" Jai Veer shouted, pacing back and forth, his fists clenched.

Keshi, always calculating, placed a hand on Jai Veer's shoulder. "Don't worry, Jija ji. This time will be different. I promise you, it is not Bhimrao's son who will sit on the throne. It will be your son—my nephew."

Jai Veer paused, his rage momentarily replaced with hope. "You think so?"

"I know so," Keshi replied with a smirk, though inside, his mind was already working on how to ensure their plan would succeed.

As Keshi left, two maids rushed into Jai Veer's chambers with news that would change everything.

"Maharaj ki jai ho! Mubarak ho! You have a son!" they announced.

Jai Veer's face lit up with joy. The anger melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of triumph. His child had arrived—his son, the future king. He tossed the maids gold coins and rushed to the room where his newborn son, Yashvardhan, lay. Lifting the baby high in his arms, Jai Veer declared, "Finally, my heir has arrived! This is the true future Maharaj of Aryanagar!"

At that moment, a sense of triumph filled Jai Veer's heart, but he had no idea how quickly the situation would spiral out of control.

Just as the kingdom of Aryanagar was celebrating the birth of two princes, the skies above the palace began to darken. The festive mood gave way to unease as dark clouds gathered, and a sudden storm swept through the land. Heavy rain began to pour, and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Inside the palace, Queen Suryalekha stood by the window, looking at the fierce storm outside.

"Maharaj, I feel something is terribly wrong. This storm... it feels unnatural," she whispered to Bhimrao, her voice laced with fear.

Bhimrao, trying to comfort his wife, replied

But Suryalekha couldn't shake the growing feeling of dread. "I'll check on Aryan," she said, turning toward the door.

Before she could leave, Bhimrao gently stopped her. "Don't worry, Maharani. Prince Aryan is sleeping peacefully. You should rest as well. You have been through much. Rajkumar is safe, and you need your strength. "

Reluctantly, Suryalekha agreed and returned to her bed. But just as they were about to close their eyes, a piercing scream echoed through the halls.

Both Bhimrao and Suryalekha froze, their hearts pounding. Without wasting a moment, they rushed to Aryan's nursery, only to find the crib empty. Panic surged through them.

"Aryan! Where is he?!" Suryalekha cried, her voice trembling with terror.

Bhimrao immediately summoned his head guard, Aaloka, but the guard was nowhere to be found. The king's mind raced as he frantically searched the palace, but Aryan was nowhere to be seen.

In the courtyard, Bhimrao found wounded soldiers scattered on the ground. One soldier, barely alive, managed to speak.

"Maharaj... we were attacked... we tried to protect the prince... but... we failed."

Before the soldier could say more, he succumbed to his injuries.

At that moment, Jai Veer and Keshi entered the scene. "Bhimrao, what has happened?" Jai Veer asked, his face feigning concern.

"Aryan is missing," Bhimrao said, his voice full of despair. "An attack. I'm going to search for him myself. Alert the guards, we must find him!"

As Bhimrao hurried away, Keshi turned to Jai Veer with a wicked smile. "This could work in our favor. Let Bhimrao's enemies take care of the prince."

Far from the palace, in the shadowy depths of the jungle, a cloaked figure moved silently through the trees, carrying a small bundle in his arms. It was Aaloka, the royal guard, and in his arms was the newborn prince, Aryan.

"I had no choice, Maharaj," Aaloka whispered to himself. "The palace is no longer safe for the prince. No one knows who launched the attack, and I fear for his life."

Aaloka looked down at the sleeping infant, his heart heavy with the burden of what he had done.

"I promise, Maharaj, I will raise Prince Aryan to be strong—strong enough to face any enemy and reclaim his rightful place as the future king of Aryanagar. I will make him a warrior, a leader, and a true heir to the throne."

With that, Aaloka disappeared into the jungle, determined to train Aryan in secrecy. As the storm raged on, Aryanagar remained unaware that their future king had vanished into the night, setting the stage for a destiny filled with trials, betrayals, and an epic struggle for the throne.

The storm outside was only the beginning.