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So this was supposed to be 2 chapters but i think most of you think story is too slow so i didn't want to disappoint you and you asked for coronation so i combined both the chapters.

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Aditya's laughter echoed through the corridors as he ran away from Pandu, his Chote Pitashree. The chase had begun, and he was loving every moment of it. He rounded a corner with a burst of energy, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. But as he did, he collided with someone about his own age. The impact was sudden, sending both boys crashing to the ground. The thud resonated through the corridor, and they both exclaimed, "Ahhhh!" as they rubbed their foreheads.

Aditya was the first to recover, quickly sitting up and examining the boy who sat across from him, also looking dazed. The boy was a stranger to him, and Aditya's usual playfulness turned to curiosity. He got back on his feet and asked with curiosity and a slight edge of suspicion, "Who are you?" The boy just stared back, his wide eyes blinking as if unsure of what to say.

Aditya, determined to get an answer, asked again, "What are you doing here?" The boy hesitated, his mouth opening and closing without uttering a word. He seemed nervous, his body language shifting as if he was ready to flee. Before he could respond, they both heard a voice calling out from the distance, "Aditya! Where are you?" It was Pandu, closing in on his nephew.

Aditya's attention shifted toward the voice, and when he turned back, the boy was gone. Vanished without a trace. Aditya stood there, his brow furrowing in confusion. How had the boy disappeared so quickly? He glanced down the corridor, then the other way, but there was no sign of him. His brief encounter had left him with more questions than answers, and a sense of annoyance crept in.

Meanwhile, from the other boy's perspective, he had been wandering the palace, exploring the vast corridors despite his mother and mamasheee's warnings to stay close. He was only three years old, and the grand hallways and intricate decorations captivated him. But his curiosity had led him to the wrong place at the wrong time, resulting in the collision with Aditya. As he sat on the ground, rubbing his forehead, he heard Aditya's question, "Who are you?" The boy felt a surge of anxiety. What was he supposed to say?

His mother had told him not to cause trouble. As he looked at Aditya, he recognized him as the unconscious boy he'd seen the day before. The boy knew he wasn't supposed to cause any trouble, but the second question, "What are you doing here?" made him even more nervous. Before he could answer, Pandu's voice echoed through the corridor, calling for Aditya. That was his cue to leave. He didn't want to be caught or face any scolding from his family, so he slipped away while Aditya was momentarily distracted, disappearing into the labyrinthine palace corridors.

Aditya looked around, confused. The boy he had just seen had vanished into thin air. He checked both ends of the corridor, but there was no trace of him. Just as he was about to head off in search of the mysterious boy, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Gotcha!" Pandu said, spinning him around with a playful grin. "Thought you could escape, huh?" Pandu's playful tone and mischievous smile eased the tension.

Aditya flashed his most innocent smile, the kind that had gotten him out of trouble countless times before. "Chote pitashree, why are you looking for me?" he asked, his voice sweet and full of feigned innocence. "Did something happen in the Sabha? I was just-"

Pandu raised an eyebrow, cutting him off. "Don't play coy with me, Aditya," he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement in his tone. "You know exactly what you did. That prank caused chaos! Tatshree was glaring at me, and he even made me eat those bitter sweets!"

Aditya's smile widened into a grin, and he couldn't help but laugh. "You ate them?" he asked, his voice teasing and clearly enjoying the outcome. "Did they taste good?" His mischievous eyes sparkled with humor, fully aware that he'd stirred up a lot of trouble.

Pandu sighed, shaking his head in mock despair. "You know they didn't," he replied, trying not to laugh with him. "You're lucky bhabhi shree came to my rescue. Otherwise, I'd still be eating those things." He pointed a playful finger at Aditya. "What do you have to say for yourself, young man? You caused quite a scene."

Aditya shrugged, his grin never fading. "I just thought it would be funny," he said, as if it were the most reasonable explanation in the world. "Besides, you said it was okay to prank Kakashree vidur, but you didn't say anything about the others. So I figured... why not?"

Pandu chuckled despite himself, his initial frustration melting away in the face of Aditya's irrepressible spirit. "You're going to be the end of me, you know that?" he said, ruffling Aditya's hair with a fondness that only an uncle could have. "But you need to be careful. Some people might not find your pranks as funny as you do."

Aditya nodded, though it was clear he wasn't taking the advice too seriously. "I know, I know," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you gotta admit, it was pretty funny. You should've seen your face!" The way he said it, with such infectious enthusiasm, made it nearly impossible to stay mad at him.

Pandu rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile at his nephew's infectious energy. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find the whole situation a little bit amusing, even if it meant getting into trouble with Bhishma. He'd do anything to keep Aditya's spirit alive, even if it meant being the "Bali ka Bhakra" every now and then.

After the laughter and teasing, Aditya remembered the boy he had just collided with. His curiosity got the better of him, and he turned to Pandu with a questioning look. "Chote Pitashree, do you know who that boy was?" Aditya asked, his voice carrying a hint of confusion. "I bumped into him just now in the corridor, but when I turned around, he was gone."

Pandu's expression shifted from playful to curious. "A boy? What do you mean he disappeared?" He hadn't seen anyone other than Aditya, so the question threw him off. He could tell from Aditya's tone that this wasn't just a random encounter-there was something about the boy that had caught his attention.

Aditya nodded, still trying to make sense of the brief encounter. "Yes, he had a gem on his forehead, like a bright, shiny stone. But when I turned around, he vanished. Do you know who he is?" There was a sense of urgency in his voice, as if he was trying to solve a small puzzle that had suddenly appeared in his day.

Pandu furrowed his brow, recalling details from previous discussions. The mention of a gem on the boy's forehead sparked a memory. "Ohhh, that sounds like Ashwathama," he replied. "He's the nephew of Kulguru Kripacharya. I think he and his mother are staying with us for a while."

Aditya repeated the name quietly to himself, "Ashwathama..." The boy's sudden disappearance had intrigued him, and now he had a name to go with the mystery. The mention of Kripacharya's nephew made him even more curious-what was the boy doing in the palace corridors, and why did he vanish so quickly?

Pandu continued, "Kripacharya mentioned that his sister and nephew were staying with him in the palace. Ashwathama is about your age, so you two could become good friends." He ruffled Aditya's hair, sensing his nephew's growing interest. Pandu liked the idea of Aditya making new friends, especially ones his own age.

Aditya seemed to consider it, repeating the name under his breath. "Ashwathama... do you think he'll be my friend?" There was a mix of excitement and uncertainty in his eyes, the same look he often had when planning his next adventure.

Pandu smiled at his nephew's enthusiasm, glad to see his playful spirit returning. "He could be. Why don't you try to find him? I'm sure he'd like to meet you too," he suggested, noting Aditya's nod of agreement. He knew Aditya would take this as a challenge, an opportunity to explore and make a new friend.

The prospect of having a new friend his age filled Aditya with excitement. He imagined all the things they could do together-exploring the palace, playing pranks, and sharing stories. Pandu could see the gears turning in Aditya's mind, and he knew that his nephew wouldn't rest until he found Ashwathama.

"Maybe you should find him and get to know him better," Pandu added, encouraging Aditya to make the first move.

While Pandu and Aditya were chatting, Adhirath entered the scene. He approached the two with a friendly demeanor and greeted them both. "Pranipat, Rajkumar Pandu," he said, bowing respectfully. "How are you, Vasu?"

Aditya's eyes lit up at the sight of Adhirath, his smile growing wider. He ran up to him and hugged him. "Baba! You said you'd take me to see Radha Ma," he said, his voice full of excitement. Aditya remembered that Adhirath had promised to take him to Radha Ma after the visit at the Shiv Mandir, but because of the chaos, it hadn't happened. Now that he saw Adhirath, he thought it was finally time.

Adhirath smiled warmly at the young boy. "Well, I brought your Radha Ma here. She said she'd be waiting for you in your room," he replied.

Aditya beamed with joy. "I'm going to meet her!" he exclaimed. He turned to Pandu and said, "Chote Pitashree, I'm going to see Radha Ma!" before sprinting down the corridor toward his room.

Pandu nodded but quickly shouted after him, "Putra, don't run like that! You'll fall!" But Aditya was already out of sight, his laughter echoing in the distance. Pandu shook his head, smiling, knowing there was no stopping his nephew's enthusiasm.

After Aditya left, Pandu turned to Adhirath, his expression growing serious. "Adhirath Mahoday, why did you bring Radha Jiji here? You know it's not good for her to travel in her condition." His concern was evident, knowing that Radha's pregnancy required caution.

Adhirath's smile faded, replaced by a gentle seriousness. "She heard what happened at the Shiv Mandir and insisted on seeing Vasu. She was worried about him after hearing he fainted, and she wouldn't feel at ease until she saw him," he explained. His voice carried the weight of Radha's protective instincts and the need to be there for Aditya.

Pandu nodded in understanding, knowing how protective Radha was of Aditya. He pondered why Bhishma had asked for Radha to take care of Aditya when there were so many others in the palace-Satyavati, Ambika, Ambalika, and, of course, Gandhari. But over the past three years, he'd seen how much Radha loved and cared for Aditya, treating him like her own son. Pandu had grown to respect and appreciate her, which is why he called her "Jiji," giving her the place of a sister in his heart. He knew that Radha's presence in Aditya's life was a blessing, and he was grateful for her nurturing care.

Aditya hadn't seen Radha for almost five months. Gandhari, knowing that Radha had suffered miscarriages several times before, had insisted that Radha take complete rest during this pregnancy. Gandhari even sent dasis to take care of her, ensuring Radha wouldn't have to lift a finger, hoping to prevent any complications. This meant Aditya had been separated from his beloved Radha Ma for quite a while, and he missed her dearly.

Meanwhile, Aditya reached his room and burst through the door, his voice filled with joy. "Radha Ma!" he called out, but the sight of Radha sitting there, visibly pregnant, triggered the haunting vision he'd had days before. He hesitated, the memory of Gandhari striking her own belly replaying in his mind, filling him with a sense of unease.

Aditya hesitated, then slowly walked toward Radha, who was sitting on a cushion. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. Radha's arms encircled him in a warm embrace, and she kissed his face gently. "Vasu, are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. "I heard you fainted. Are you hurt anywhere?" Her hands gently brushed his hair and face, looking for any signs of injury.

Aditya nodded, his cheek resting against her shoulder. "I'm fine, Radha Ma," he replied, trying to sound reassuring. "Nothing to worry about."

Hearing this and seeing her vasu with her own eyes, Radha's worry began to ease. She sighed in relief, her hand gently stroking his hair. The tension she'd carried since hearing about his fainting spell began to dissipate. The reunion brought comfort to them both, a soothing balm for the worries that had troubled them. Radha held Aditya close, savoring the warmth of his embrace, her heart finally at peace.

As Aditya rested in Radha's arms, his gaze wandered to her pregnant belly. His small hand traced the curve with innocent curiosity. "Radha Ma, why is your belly so big?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder. "Is it because you ate too much?" His question brought a smile to Radha's lips.

"No, Putra, it's not because I ate too much," she replied, her voice gentle and reassuring. "There's a baby inside, your little brother or sister is growing here."

Aditya's eyes widened with surprise. "A baby? Inside your belly?" he asked, his voice filled with childlike amazement. "How did it get there?"

Radha laughed gently, enjoying his wide-eyed wonder. "It's a special gift from the gods," she explained, keeping it simple for his young mind. "The baby is growing and will be born soon. That's why I have to rest and be careful."

Aditya nodded, his mind racing with questions. "Will it hurt you, Radha Ma?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. He remembered the vision of Gandhari's pain and couldn't shake the feeling that something might go wrong.

Radha reassured him, gently stroking his hair. "No, Vasu, it won't hurt me," she said, her tone calm and comforting. "When the time is right, the baby will be born, and I will be fine."

Aditya nodded, feeling comforted by her words, but he still couldn't shake the lingering images of Gandhari's suffering. "Can I see the baby when it's born?" he asked, his curiosity returning.

Radha's smile grew broader. "Of course, Putra. You will be one of the first to meet the baby," she replied, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "And I know you will be a wonderful big brother."

Aditya's face lit up at the prospect of having a new sibling. He hugged Radha tightly, feeling reassured by her calming presence. Despite the questions in his young mind, her gentle words and loving embrace brought him comfort, easing the fear he had felt from his vision.

Aditya nestled in Radha's arms, his gaze fixed on her swollen belly. He couldn't help but remember the troubling vision he'd had of Gandhari-crying and striking her own pregnant belly-lingered in his mind. Though he was too young to grasp the full context, the image had left him feeling worried and confused. "Radha Ma," he began cautiously, his small fingers tracing the curve of her belly, "why would a mother hurt their own child?" His voice, though innocent, carried a trace of fear, his young mind trying to make sense of the vision.

Radha could see the worry in Aditya's eyes, and a pang of sympathy struck her heart. She gently stroked his hair, her touch soothing and full of love.

"Putra," she said gently, stroking his hair, "a mother would never hurt her child. A mother loves and protects her child with all her heart." She paused, allowing him a moment to process her words. "Sometimes, people can be upset or in pain, but that doesn't mean they would harm the child. I promise you, a mother would do anything to keep her child safe."

Aditya nodded slowly, taking in her words. Radha's voice, filled with warmth and reassurance, helped to ease the tension that had built up since his vision. He hugged her tightly, his small arms encircling her as if to hold on to the comfort she provided. Radha wrapped her arms around him, gently cradling his head against her shoulder. The embrace offered the warmth and safety that Aditya needed, his worries slowly dissipating.

After spending some time with Radha, Aditya gave her a tight hug before saying goodbye and watching her leave his chamber. Despite the comfort she had given him, he still had lingering questions and uncertainties. He decided to sit in the palace garden to clear his mind, hoping the tranquil surroundings would offer him some peace.

The garden was lush and calming, with flowers of every color blooming under the warm sun. Aditya sat down on a stone bench, his gaze wandering over the greenery, but his mind was elsewhere.

While he sat in the garden, lost in thought, a voice from behind startled him. "Are you okay?" The voice was clear, with a touch of curiosity. Aditya turned around quickly, and there stood the same boy he'd bumped into earlier-the one who'd vanished so suddenly. This time, he was standing behind Aditya, watching him with a curious expression.

---

From Ashwathama's perspective, after he had bumped into Aditya and left without saying anything, he had wandered through the palace. The corridors were vast, filled with ornate decorations and intriguing sights. Despite his mother's instructions to stay close and not cause trouble, his curiosity often got the better of him.As he explored, he found himself drawn to the garden. The greenery and tranquility were a stark contrast to the bustling corridors, and he liked the quiet. He sat under a large tree, enjoying the cool shade, when he saw Aditya enter the garden and sit down on the other side of the tree. He noticed that Aditya seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed as if something was troubling him.Ashwathama couldn't help but be curious about what was on Aditya's mind. He approached cautiously, not wanting to startle him, but his question, "Are you okay?" seemed to do just that.

---

Aditya turned around abruptly, his eyes wide with surprise. "It's you," he said, recognizing Ashwathama. "Mitra Ashwathama," he added with a smile.

Ashwathama seemed surprised that Aditya knew his name. "How do you know my name?" he asked, puzzled. "And Mitra?" He wondered why Aditya called him "Mitra," the Sanskrit word for "friend."

Aditya nodded, his smile fading a bit. "You don't want to be my Mitra?" he asked, his voice softening. He had hoped to make a new friend, and the thought of rejection was disheartening.

Ashwathama was quick to clarify. "No, I do want to be your Mitra," he replied, his words sincere but tinged with hesitation. "But... you're a prince."

Aditya shrugged, dismissing the significance of the title. "So what? I consider you my Friend," he said, hoping to reassure Ashwathama. "Will you be my Friend?" His voice held a note of genuine hope-he wanted to be friends with this mysterious boy who had intrigued him so much.

Ashwathama's smile returned, and he nodded. "Yes, I'll be your Friend," he said, sitting down beside Aditya. The simple word "Friend" carried a new meaning for both boys-a bond formed between them, despite their differences.

As they sat together, Ashwathama noticed Aditya still seemed deep in thought. "What were you thinking about?" he asked, genuinely curious about what was on his new friend's mind.

Aditya didn't hesitate. It was as if the question opened a door, allowing him to talk about something that had been troubling him.

"I saw something.... I don't know if it's real," he began, "I saw my mother, Gandhari, in front of Mahadev's idol. She was crying... and then she started hitting her own stomach with her fists. I don't know why, but she seemed so desperate, so sad," he explained, his words tinged with confusion and a hint of fear. "I couldn't do anything to help her-I was just... invisible, just watching."

Ashwathama listened closely, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern as Aditya spoke. The description was unsettling, the kind of thing that might haunt a child's dreams. He felt the weight of Aditya's worry and wasn't sure how to respond.

Before he could think of something to say, Aditya stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening with sudden realization. It was as if he had just understood that he was able to talk about it with Ashwathama, something he hadn't been able to do before.

Without warning, Aditya wrapped his arms around Ashwathama, hugging him tightly. The sudden gesture startled Ashwathama, but he instinctively hugged back, understanding that his friend needed reassurance. He patted Aditya's back, not fully grasping the significance of the embrace but feeling the importance of being there for him. It was clear that Aditya had found comfort in sharing his vision, and Ashwathama was glad to be the one he could talk to about it.

"Is that why you were so sad?" Ashwathama asked, his voice gentle yet curious, his young mind seeking to understand the source of his friend's distress.

Aditya nodded, still hugging Ashwathama. The embrace felt like a lifeline, a release of the tension that had been building inside him. Though he knew there were still questions he couldn't answer, he was relieved to have someone he could finally share his thoughts with. The simple act of hugging a friend, someone who didn't judge or question him.

As they settled in, Aditya's gaze was drawn to the gem on Ashwathama's forehead. Its gleam caught the sunlight, creating a captivating play of colors. "What's with the gem? How did you get it? Why do you have it?" Aditya asked, his curiosity bubbling over. The mysterious gem fascinated him, and he wanted to know more.

Ashwathama shrugged, raising his hands in a casual gesture. "I was born with it," he replied, as if it were the simplest explanation in the world.

Aditya nodded, though he was still intrigued. "Born with it? That's interesting," he mused, pondering the unique gem. Ashwathama's casual tone didn't provide much detail, but Aditya's curiosity was insatiable.

Then, Ashwathama turned the question back to him. "What about you? How did you get your kavach?" he asked, recalling the kavach he'd seen on Aditya during their previous encounter.

Aditya paused, puzzled. "Kavach? Oh, you mean that... I don't really know," he admitted, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Maybe I was born with it?" He almost questioned his own answer, unsure if that made sense.

Ashwathama grinned. "Are you asking me or telling me?" His tone was playful, but there was genuine curiosity behind the question.

Aditya sighed, the confusion weighing on him. "I saw it only once, when I fainted, but I don't remember much," he said. "It's the first time I saw it, so I'm not sure."

Ashwathama nodded, his eyes scanning the sky as he shielded them from the sun's bright rays. He pointed toward the sun and said, "I asked my mother about it. She told me that you are a Suryaputra, a son of Suryadev. The kavach is a gift from him." His tone was matter-of-fact, but the information was new to Aditya.

Aditya's eyes widened with surprise. "Suryaputra? I'm his son?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the sun, which shone brilliantly above them. Unlike Ashwathama, he could look directly at the sun without blinking. "Really?"

Ashwathama nodded. "Yes, mata said you are a Suryaputra. The kavach is a sign of that." He seemed impressed by the connection to Suryadev, a god of immense power.

Aditya's confusion grew. He glanced at Ashwathama and asked, "But... my parents are Dritharastra and Gandhari. How can I be a son of Suryadev?" He felt like he was standing at the edge of a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

The uncertainty turned into resolve as Aditya stood up abruptly, his expression firm. "Let's go to Mata Gandhari. I'll ask her about it," he said, grabbing Ashwathama's hand and pulling him up. The sudden burst of energy caught Ashwathama off guard, but he nodded, not wanting to disagree with his new friend.

Ashwathama wasn't sure if it was okay to just approach Gandhari with such questions, but Aditya's enthusiasm was contagious. He didn't have much choice as Aditya tugged him along, his grip firm and full of urgency.

Aditya and Ashwathama walked briskly through the palace corridors, Aditya practically dragging his new friend along, his energy infectious. They approached a chamber where Gandhari and Radha were seated, engaged in quiet conversation. As the boys entered, Radha noticed them first, her eyes lighting up with warmth.

"Vasu! You're here," Radha said, her voice filled with affection. "And who is this?" she asked, looking at the boy with Aditya. Gandhari, blindfolded but ever-attentive, tilted her head slightly, listening intently for the introduction.

Aditya released Ashwathama's hand and said, "Radha Ma, this is my Mitra-Ashwathama." His tone was cheerful, and he gestured towards his friend, encouraging him to greet the ladies. His usual playfulness was evident, but there was also a sense of pride in introducing his new friend.

Ashwathama, feeling a bit shy, greeted both Gandhari and Radha with a respectful pranipat, bowing with joined hands. "Pranipat," he said, his voice polite but tinged with nervousness. "My mother said I should greet the royal family if I meet them." He tried to sound confident, but there was a hint of hesitation.

Aditya quickly turned his head, raising his eyebrows, "Hey, why didn't you greet me?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He crossed his arms, as if demanding an explanation.

Ashwathama looked flustered, trying to think of a quick response. "Uh, you were sitting there looking sa-" he began, but Aditya quickly reached over and covered his mouth with his hand, stopping him mid-sentence. The sudden gesture surprised Ashwathama, who widened his eyes in shock.

Aditya leaned in, whispering, "Mitra, don't tell Mata I was sad. I don't want her to worry." His voice was low, with an undertone of seriousness. He glanced at Gandhari, who remained composed, unaware of their whispered conversation. Ashwathama nodded, understanding the importance of Aditya's request.

Aditya removed his hand, and Ashwathama cleared his throat, quickly finding an explanation. "You are my friend, so I didn't greet you formally," he said, his voice smooth as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Aditya grinned at Ashwathama's quick thinking, grateful for his friend's cover. Radha chuckled at the exchange, finding their interaction charming, while Gandhari smiled, pleased to hear her son's playful banter with his new friend.

Aditya took a deep breath and turned to Gandhari, his eyes filled with curiosity. "Mata, Mitra said I'm a son of Suryadev-a Suryaputra. What does that mean?" he asked, genuinely puzzled by the revelation.

Gandhari, though blindfolded, was taken aback by the question. She had not expected her young son to ask about his divine lineage at this age. However, she managed to maintain a calm demeanor, offering him a gentle smile before speaking. She carefully chose her words, knowing the significance of what she was about to reveal.

"Aditya, you are indeed a Suryaputra," Gandhari replied, her voice soft but steady. "It means that you carry the blessing of Suryadev within you. He is your celestial father, but you are also our son-your Pitashree Dritharastra and I. Suryadev bestowed upon you his radiance and light, making you special," she explained, her words carrying a warmth that reassured him.

Aditya nodded slowly, taking in the new information. "But what about the kavach and the kundals? Mitra said they are a gift from Suryadev. Is that true?" His curiosity had taken hold, and he wanted to understand the origin of these sacred items.

Gandhari nodded. "Yes, Aditya, Suryadev gave you the kavach and the kundals when you were born. These are his gifts to protect you from immediate danger. The kavach serves as your armor, keeping you safe, and the kundals are a sign of his divine blessing," she said softly.

She continued, "Suryadev also gave you a name when you were born. He named you Karna, which represents your radiant spirit and strength," she explained.

Aditya whispered the name to himself, "Karna." It felt familiar yet new, a name that seemed to carry a sense of destiny.

Ashwathama, who had been listening intently, brightened at the mention of the name. "Mitra, I'll call you Karna. Mitra Karna, what do you think?" he said, his voice full of enthusiasm.

Aditya grinned. "I like it," he replied. "Then I'll call you Ashwa-Mitra Ashwa." The playful exchange between the two boys was a sign of the friendship that was blossoming.

Gandhari and Radha watched the interaction with affectionate smiles, relieved to see Aditya's worries easing with the company of a new friend.

In the six months following the incident at the Raj Sabha, the palace saw a series of significant events.

The most joyful event was Radha giving birth to a healthy baby boy named Shon. Aditya, took to his role as a protective older brother with enthusiasm, watching over Shon with a sense of responsibility that belied his young age. Aditya would often sit beside Radha, watching her care for Shon, offering his own small but heartfelt assistance. It was a period of happiness and new beginnings for the palace.

During the six months, Aditya and Ashwathama grew inseparable, spending their days exploring the palace, playing games, and embarking on various adventures. Their bond grew so strong that they became best friends, sharing both mischief and joy. It was a bond that would be tested and proven many times over.

Their bond went beyond mere friendship. When one of them got into trouble, the other would step in to take the blame without hesitation. If Ashwathama broke something, Aditya would claim responsibility, and if Aditya caused a stir, Ashwathama would cover for him. This mutual loyalty and willingness to shield each other from consequences showed that they had become more than just friends-they were like brothers.

During this period, Aditya and Ashwathama sometimes spent time with Bhishma, who decided to take them under his wing, offering them guidance about the inner workings of the kingdom. He taught them about the roles of key figures within the court-the Mahamantri, Mahamahim, Senapati, and others who played vital parts in maintaining order and justice. Bhishma stressed the importance of fairness, compassion, and the ability to make difficult decisions for the greater good. His teachings were rigorous yet infused with wisdom, providing a valuable education for two curious young minds.

Aditya soaked up these lessons with enthusiasm, his questions demonstrating a keen sense of justice and a desire to understand the responsibilities of leadership. He was intrigued by the idea of what it meant to be a good king, a ruler who valued his people and acted with integrity.

Ashwathama, often the more playful of the two, also paid close attention to Bhishma's teachings, recognizing the honor in learning from such a respected figure. Though they were still young, the time spent with Bhishma laid a solid foundation for Aditya and Ashwathama. It instilled in them a sense of duty and the beginnings of wisdom that would guide them as they grew.

In the six months leading up to the coronation, Pandu had several discussions with Vidur about the impending ceremony, expressing his support for Dritharastra's coronation. Pandu hoped to change Vidur's mind, emphasizing that Dritharastra's blindness did not define his capability as a leader. However, Vidur remained unconvinced, believing that a king's ability to see and assess his kingdom was crucial for stability and safety.

Vidur's skepticism grew as the coronation date approached, prompting him to voice his concerns to Bhishma. He met with Bhishma privately, expressing his doubts about Dritharastra's suitability to become king. Vidur argued that a blind king might struggle to make critical decisions, leading to potential chaos within the court and the realm. He hoped to sway Bhishma to consider other options, perhaps favoring Pandu, who had already proven his leadership abilities.

Bhishma, always calm and composed, listened patiently to Vidur's concerns. He understood the gravity of the situation but reassured Vidur that Dritharastra had other qualities that made him fit to be king. Bhishma reminded Vidur that ruling a kingdom required wisdom, not just sight, and that Dritharastra had shown a deep understanding of governance. He urged Vidur to trust in Dritharastra's strengths and not to let his blindness overshadow his capabilities.

Sakuni, ever the strategist, caught wind of Vidur's growing opposition to the coronation. Knowing that Vidur's objections could jeopardize the entire ceremony, Sakuni was determined to ensure Dritharastra's coronation proceeded smoothly. He began to devise a plan, contemplating how to neutralize Vidur's resistance without drawing too much attention to his own machinations.

One day, as Sakuni walked through the palace gardens, pondering how to proceed, he noticed Aditya and Ashwathama playing nearby. The young boys' energy was infectious, but Sakuni's mind was focused on more sinister thoughts. "Maybe I can use Aditya to my advantage," he mused. The idea of manipulating the young prince seemed promising, given Aditya's influence and position within the royal family.

With a smirk, Sakuni approached Aditya, his intentions anything but pure. But as he drew closer, something unexpected happened-the kavach appeared on Aditya's upper body, shimmering with an otherworldly light. The sudden manifestation of the armor stopped Sakuni in his tracks. The kavach seemed to react to his impure intentions, a warning that the young prince wasn't to be underestimated.

Ashwathama, who had been playing with Aditya, noticed the kavach and instinctively stood in front of his friend, as if ready to shield him from danger. "Mitra Karna, your kavach!" he exclaimed, alarmed by its sudden appearance. He spread his arms protectively, his instincts urging him to defend his friend.

Aditya gave Ashwathama a light tap on the shoulder, finding his reaction a bit over the top. "Idiot, my kavach protects me! Why are you standing in front of me?" he said with a playful laugh. Despite the humor in his voice, there was a sense of assurance-Aditya knew that his kavach was there to keep him safe.

Sakuni watched from a distance, trying to understand why the kavach had appeared. He looked around, expecting to find a hidden threat or danger, but there was nothing unusual in the garden. The sudden appearance of the kavach puzzled him. This wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen; it had occurred twice before. Could it be that the kavach reacted to impure intentions or thoughts?

Sakuni quickly stepped back, his expression shifting from cunning to caution. He realized he needed to compose himself, to clear his mind of any ill intentions toward Aditya. As he did, the kavach faded, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. It was a clear indication that his impure thoughts had triggered the kavach's defense mechanism.

Ashwathama noticed the kavach disappear and turned to Aditya. "It's gone. That means there's no danger, right?" he asked, his voice filled with relief but still a bit uncertain.

Aditya nodded. "Yeah, it's gone. See? I'm fine," he replied, his smile returning as he playfully nudged Ashwathama. The sudden tension was over, and they could resume their games without worry.

Sakuni, observing from a distance, felt a chill. He now understood that Aditya's kavach appeared when someone approached him with impure intentions or thoughts. This revelation changed everything. If his own scheming could trigger the kavach, he'd need to be extremely careful around Aditya. He decided to tread cautiously, knowing that any hint of deceit could set off the kavach and reveal his hidden motives. Sakuni realized that to manipulate Aditya, he'd have to keep his thoughts as clean as possible, a challenging task for someone as cunning as him.

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-THE DAY OF THE CORONATION-

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The grand hall of the Raj Sabha was filled with anticipation. Today was the day when Hastinapur would crown its new king, a pivotal moment that would shape the future of the kingdom. The throne sat at the far end of the chamber, vacant and waiting to be occupied. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and intricate patterns were woven into the floor, reflecting the kingdom's opulence.

The seating arrangements in the court reflected the hierarchy and importance of the event. Bhishma, the Mahamahim, sat at the forefront, his presence both calming and imposing. Next to him was Vidur, recently appointed Mahamantri, with his eyes scanning the room, aware of the gravity of his new role. Aditya, the young prince, was seated beside Bhishma, observing the proceedings with a mix of curiosity and wisdom beyond his years.

On the opposite side, Dritharastra and Pandu were seated. Dritharastra, blind but dignified, held a composed expression despite the uncertainty surrounding his coronation. Pandu, his younger brother, sat beside him, his demeanor serious yet supportive. Sakuni, with his shrewd and calculating gaze, sat beside them, his fingers tapping the armrest of his seat as he waited for the event to unfold.

Behind them, the ladies of the royal family were seated. Satyavati, Ambika, Ambalika, and Gandhari, with her distinctive blindfold, sat quietly. They observed the proceedings with a sense of gravity, their presence a reminder of the familial bonds that held the kingdom together.

The court was filled with other notable figures, including regional leaders, advisors, and representatives from various factions of the kingdom. The heads of key families and other influential figures were also present, all awaiting the outcome of the coronation.

As the murmurs grew, it was clear that the decision about who would ascend the throne was not just a matter of tradition but would impact the stability and future of Hastinapur.

In the majestic Raj Sabha, KulGuru Kripacharya stood at the center, his voice resonating through the grand hall. "Today, we crown Dritharastra, the eldest son of the Kuru lineage," he declared, initiating the coronation proceedings. The crowd burst into applause, but the atmosphere held a palpable sense of tension and anticipation.

Dritharastra, though blind, carried himself with poise as he approached the throne, guided by attendants. His demeanor was composed, and he moved with a quiet authority, each step deliberate. The coronation was a significant event, marking a new chapter for Hastinapur.

Aditya, seated next to Bhishma, clapped enthusiastically, his eyes filled with pride and joy. He was elated to see his father being recognized as the rightful king, and his energy was infectious. It was clear that he fully supported Dritharastra's coronation.

However, the mood among other key figures in the court was more cautious. Bhishma, while supportive, maintained a watchful eye, knowing that the coronation could be disrupted at any moment. Satyavati, seated nearby, shared his concern, her expression revealing the unease she felt about the potential divisions within the family.

Pandu, Dritharastra's devoted younger brother, stood by, exuding loyalty and a sense of duty. He hoped for a peaceful coronation but was aware of the complexities involved. He wished to avoid any disruptions that could lead to conflict within the royal family.

Sakuni, the skilled manipulator, was alert and attentive. He knew that Vidur, the newly appointed Mahamantri, had raised objections about Dritharastra's coronation, citing his blindness as a concern. Sakuni sensed that Vidur might attempt to intervene, and he was ready to counter any opposition. His eyes scanned the court, anticipating the moment when Vidur would make his move.

The room was filled with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Despite the applause and formal proceedings, the sense of unrest lingered, hinting at the possible conflicts that could arise. The question of who would ultimately sit on the throne had become more complex, with various factions within the court holding differing views. The path to the throne was far from straightforward, and the events of this day would shape the future of Hastinapur.

Though the coronation had officially begun, the air was filled with uncertainty.

As the coronation ceremony reached its final stage, the priests were ready to crown Dritharastra as king. Just as the final blessings were about to be given, Vidur stepped forward, his voice firm and clear, addressing the entire court.

"As Mahamantri of Hastinapur, I must oppose this coronation," he announced, his words causing a ripple of shock and murmurs among the court members. His statement interrupted the proceedings, creating a sense of uncertainty that spread throughout the hall. The sudden interruption threw the entire hall into uncertainty, an undercurrent of tension spreading through the assembled courtiers.

Satyavati's eyes widened in surprise; she hadn't expected Vidur to make such a bold move at this critical moment. Her face betrayed a mix of concern and confusion-what could have driven Vidur to oppose the coronation when everything was set to proceed?

Bhishma's expression grew more serious, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a hint of irritation and disappointment. He knew Vidur had his concerns about Dritharastra's ability to lead due to his blindness, but he didn't expect Vidur to oppose the coronation in front of the entire court, and certainly not at the last minute.

Pandu, standing beside Dritharastra, looked toward Vidur with clear disappointment. He had always been loyal to his elder brother and felt the sting of Vidur's public objection. His loyalty to Dritharastra was unwavering, and Vidur's opposition felt like a betrayal at a moment that should have been celebratory.

Sakuni, however, seemed unfazed. He'd anticipated Vidur's move and was ready to counter it. His eyes sparkled with cunning as he prepared his response. If Vidur thought he could sway the court with a sudden objection, Sakuni had other plans. "Well, it's always the Mahamantri's job to raise concerns," he thought with a smirk, knowing that the battle was just beginning. He would not let Vidur's objections stand in the way of Dritharastra's coronation.

The air grew tense as the court awaited the unfolding drama, each reaction revealing the complex emotions and power dynamics at play.

Vidur stepped forward, his voice steady but carrying an edge of authority. "My concerns are based on practicality," he stated, addressing the court. "A blind man cannot lead the kingdom effectively. Leadership requires a clear vision, and how can Dritharastra fulfill the duties of a king when he can't see the world around him?" His words seemed to echo in the quiet hall, sparking murmurs among the court members.

Sakuni's smile faded as he took a step forward, his tone smooth but with a hint of steel. "Mahamantri Vidur," he began, his voice respectful but with an undercurrent of challenge, "is vision solely about sight? If that's the case, then anyone with perfect eyesight would make a great leader, but we all know that's not true. Vision is about understanding, foresight, and wisdom." He gestured toward Dritharastra, who sat composed, his expression calm and unreadable despite the turmoil surrounding him.. "Dritharastra has all of these qualities in abundance. He has demonstrated his wisdom and judgement throughout his life, guiding this court and the kingdom without issue. His blindness does not diminish his ability to understand and lead."

Sakuni's voice grew more assertive as he continued, "It's not about what a person lacks, but what they bring to the role. Dritharastra has advisors and family who support him. Mahamahim Bhishma has guided this kingdom for years, and he stands by Dritharastra. The real question, Mahamantri Vidur, is not whether Dritharastra can lead, but whether we have the vision to see beyond physical limitations."

The court was abuzz with whispers, the murmurs growing louder as Sakuni's words sank in. The tension in the air was palpable, and Vidur's objections seemed to lose their force in the face of Sakuni's calm reasoning.

Pandu, who had always been a loyal supporter of his elder brother, stepped forward to defend Dritharastra. "My brother has always been wise and just," he said, his voice firm with conviction. "His blindness has never hindered his ability to contribute to the court. With our support, he can lead effectively."

Satyavati also lent her voice, emphasizing the importance of family unity. "Dritharastra has proven his worth through years of service. His blindness should not overshadow his many other qualities. The strength of our kingdom comes from our collective support, not just the sight of one person," she stated, her words carrying a weight that resonated with many in the court.

Bhishma sat silently, his expression thoughtful, listening to the arguments from both sides. The debate about Dritharastra's coronation had reached a pivotal moment, and his silence suggested that he was carefully weighing the points presented.

Vidur, undeterred by Sakuni's smooth retorts or the support from Satyavati and Pandu, responded with a renewed sense of authority. "I understand that Dritharastra has been a source of wisdom and that he has guidance from others," he began, addressing the court. "But leading a kingdom requires more than just good advice and supportive family. It requires quick decisions, a clear understanding of complex situations, and the ability to physically lead when necessary."

Vidur's tone grew more intense as he continued to address the court. "A king must have a complete understanding of his kingdom-not just metaphorically, but in a literal sense. This includes the ability to make quick decisions in moments of crisis. What happens if there's a sudden attack or war? A blind king cannot lead troops on the battlefield or personally assess a critical situation. These are moments that require a leader who can see, who can respond immediately to threats." His words created a wave of tension throughout the court, and the whispers grew louder.

Vidur's objections grew stronger as he detailed the challenges of leading without sight. "Dritharastra's blindness, as much as we respect him, presents a significant limitation. A king must be able to recognize shifts in court dynamics, detect deceit, and respond to the needs of his people. If he relies entirely on others to be his eyes and ears, what happens if those others are compromised or misled? How can a blind king effectively rule without clear, first-hand information?"

Vidur continued, his argument gaining momentum. "In times of crisis, a king should be able to personally inspect the frontlines, evaluate the strength of his forces, and ensure his kingdom's security. This role is more than just a title; it requires action and decision-making that cannot be delegated to others." His voice took on a sharp edge as he gestured toward Dritharastra, who sat with his usual calmness but with the inherent limitation of his blindness.

"I'm not questioning his intelligence or wisdom," Vidur explained, "but pointing out that this constraint could impact his ability to make the right calls at the right times. We all know that a king must act swiftly and decisively, and if he has to rely solely on the observations of others, that puts him at a disadvantage."

Vidur's words echoed through the grand hall, creating a sense of unease among the courtiers. Some nodded in agreement, while others frowned, conflicted by the implications. His emphasis on the practical challenges of ruling with blindness cast doubt on Dritharastra's suitability for the throne. It wasn't just about tradition or lineage-it was about ensuring the kingdom's safety and effective governance in times of crisis.

"This is why I believe we must carefully consider whether Dritharastra can truly fulfill the role of king." Vidur's voice held a mix of concern and certainty, the type that made others listen intently, contemplating his words.

Vidur's argument had created a wave of unease, sparking a renewed sense of urgency among the court members. It was clear that the outcome of this debate would have far-reaching consequences, not just for the Kuru dynasty but for the entire kingdom. As his words resonated, the tension in the court became palpable, and all eyes were on the next move.

Aditya, who had been joyful at the coronation of his father, felt his mood shift with each word Vidur spoke. What began as a day of celebration quickly turned sour as Vidur's objections focused repeatedly on Dritharastra's blindness. The young prince's initially cheerful expression grew rigid and neutral, his body tensing with restrained frustration. His hands began to clench, and a subtle but unmistakable tension settled over him.

Bhishma, seated beside Aditya, was the first to sense the change. He noticed the clenched fists and the growing intensity in Aditya's eyes, recognizing that the young prince was deeply affected by Vidur's comments. It was clear that Vidur's relentless focus on blindness was striking a nerve. The young prince leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Vidur, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Pandu, standing by Dritharastra's side, glanced at Aditya and saw the same signs of building anger. The way Aditya's body stiffened and his eyes narrowed told him that Vidur's words were triggering a strong emotional response.

Satyavati, observing from her seat, felt a wave of anxiety as she watched Aditya lean forward, his eyes fixed on Vidur with an intensity that hinted at his growing frustration.

Vidur continued to talk about the limitations of a blind king, emphasizing the need for first-hand information and the ability to respond quickly to crises. With each of Vidur's points, Aditya's patience seemed to erode, his gaze growing more intense, as if daring Vidur to stop his relentless critique.

The murmurs among the court grew louder, reflecting the building tension. Aditya's demeanor suggested that his patience was wearing thin, and his silence felt like the calm before a storm. The intensity in his expression hinted that he was preparing to speak, ready to defend his father against Vidur's repeated focus on blindness.

Those who observed him, especially Bhishma, Pandu, and Satyavati could sense that something was about to happen. The atmosphere was growing more charged, and Bhishma knew he needed to intervene before things escalated.

"Enough," Bhishma said, his voice firm but calm, hoping to prevent any further conflict. He glanced at Pandu and subtly gestured toward Aditya, signaling him to step in and diffuse the situation. Pandu nodded, understanding Bhishma's cue, and began to move toward Aditya's seat.

But before Pandu could take a step forward, a shimmering light enveloped Aditya, indicating the sudden appearance of his kavach. The gleaming armor manifested, covering his upper body-a clear sign of his anger.

Aditya stood abruptly from his seat, his voice sharp as he called out, "MAHAMANTRI VIDUR!" The force and authority in his voice sent a shockwave through the court, causing everyone to fall silent.

The intensity of his anger was evident. He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to calm the storm within. The kavach, representing his connection to Mahadev's essence, was a reflection of his growing anger, indicating that his rage was not to be taken lightly. The sight of the kavach appearing unexpectedly caused murmurs of concern among the court members.

As Aditya slowly opened his eyes, the kavach began to fade, its glow diminishing as he regained control over his emotions. The transformation from fierce anger to measured calmness was remarkable, reflecting the dual nature of Mahadev-first, the fiery intensity of Rudra, then the profound tranquility that followed. This sudden shift in Aditya's demeanor left the court in awe, unsure of what to expect next.

Though the court was taken aback by the kavach's sudden manifestation, Sakuni was the first to make sense of it. He observed the transformation in Aditya's demeanor-the clenched fists, the intensity in his voice, and then the calmness that emerged as the kavach faded away. This transition from fierce anger to serene calmness suggested a deeper connection between Aditya's emotions and the kavach's appearance.

Sakuni whispered to himself, "Anger?" His sharp mind was already at work, piecing together the possible reasons for the kavach's reaction to Aditya's emotional state. The kavach didn't just appear in response to physical danger; it seemed to manifest when Aditya's anger reached a critical point. As the young prince calmed down, the kavach vanished, indicating that he had regained control over his emotions.

Sakuni leaned back, his curiosity piqued. "Is anger also the reason his kavach appeared?" he wondered. If this was true, it might explain the unique behavior of the kavach and offer insights into Aditya's extraordinary abilities. His eyes followed Aditya's every move, eager to learn more about the connection between the young prince's emotions and the sudden appearance of the kavach.

Sakuni, intrigued by his discovery, said quietly to himself, "Interesting." Knowing that he had figured out why the kavach appeared, he decided to observe Aditya carefully, eager to see how the young prince would respond and what else he might reveal about his abilities. Sakuni's sharp gaze stayed on Aditya, watching intently for any further signs of the remarkable connection between his emotions and the appearance of the kavach.

"MAHAMANTRI VIDUR," Aditya said, addressing Vidur with a tone that held a blend of youthful defiance and formal authority, "Why do you keep pointing out my father's blindness as a reason he can't be king?"

Vidur, taken aback by Aditya's words and the sudden formality in his voice, felt a ripple of unease. "Putra, why are you calling me Mahamantri? I'm your Kakashree," he said, visibly shaken by the sudden shift in tone. He had always seen Aditya as a spirited child, but this was a side of him he hadn't expected.

Aditya's gaze was steady, his eyes fixed on Vidur with an intensity that seemed to challenge the very foundation of the courtroom. The air grew thick with tension as the young prince spoke, his voice sharp as a blade. "If you can forget that you are a brother to my father and only see him as a blind man, then I can also forget that you're my Kakashree and see you as just Mahamantri," he said, his words carrying a mixture of anger and disappointment.

The courtroom fell silent as his words settled in. The shift in Aditya's tone caught everyone by surprise, leaving a cold chill in the air. Vidur, visibly stunned, opened his mouth to reply but couldn't find the words. The weight of Aditya's statement hung in the room, drawing the attention of every courtier. The young prince was no longer just the son of Dritharastra; he had taken on the role of defender, standing up against the Mahamantri's disrespect.

Aditya held his gaze, his eyes filled with a fiery determination that belied his age. The other courtiers exchanged uncertain glances, sensing that the balance of power had shifted with Aditya's bold stance. It was no longer just a matter of family ties-it was about justice and respect. Aditya's words struck at the heart of the court's authority, reminding everyone that loyalty and honor must come before titles and formalities.

As the silence deepened, the tension became palpable. Aditya's rebuke resonated through the court, leaving no doubt that he was willing to confront anyone who dared undermine his father's dignity. It wasn't just a confrontation-it was a warning that he wouldn't tolerate disrespect, even from his own family.

The impact of Aditya's words was clear. They were a reminder that family bonds should never be broken for political gain and that true respect comes from recognizing the humanity in others, not just their titles or positions. The courtroom remained hushed, each person aware that this moment would have far-reaching consequences for the kingdom and its leadership.

Vidur stood there, stunned. The young Aditya's words echoed in his mind, each syllable carrying a weight that made him question his own stance. The change from "Kakashree" to "Mahamantri" was more than just a shift in address-it was a stark reminder that his words had consequences. He had spoken out of a sense of duty, convinced that his role as Mahamantri required him to raise concerns. But Aditya's rebuke made him realize the cost of his words. He felt the heat of guilt and the cold edge of regret-Had he overstepped? Had he failed in his duty as a brother while fulfilling his role as a minister? His fingers tightened around his robe, his usual confidence replaced with doubt.

Bhishma observed the scene, his usually stoic expression showing a hint of concern. He had always tried to maintain harmony within the royal family, but now he saw the cracks forming. Aditya's defiance could either lead to reconciliation or drive a deeper wedge between brothers. Was this a sign that the next generation would be less tolerant of injustice, or was it the beginning of a new conflict? The tension between family loyalty and the demands of governance tugged at him. He would need to navigate this carefully, lest it disrupt the kingdom's stability.

Satyavati, the matriarch of the Kuru dynasty, felt a mix of surprise and pride. Aditya's words were bold, but they were also a call for respect-something she valued deeply. She hoped this moment would bring reconciliation, not deepen the rift between Vidur and Dritharastra.

Ambika and Ambalika, the mothers of Dritharastra and Pandu respectively, had a different perspective. Ambika, as Dritharastra's mother, felt a deep sense of sadness that her son's blindness had become a subject of public debate. She wished Vidur had shown more tact, but Aditya's response gave her a glimmer of hope. Ambalika, as Pandu's mother, hoped that this confrontation wouldn't lead to a split in the family. She hoped that Aditya's words would lead to reconciliation rather than further division.

Dritharastra, sitting on his throne, felt a surge of emotion. Pride for his son, who had spoken out to defend him, but also a deep sadness. He had never thought of his blindness as a weakness, but Vidur's words had brought it into the open, in front of the entire court. It was a humiliation that could not be easily forgotten. He wondered if he could ever truly be accepted as king, even with Aditya's defense. The doubt crept in, casting a shadow over his confidence. THE THRONE SEEMED EVEN FURTHER OUT OF REACH.

Pandu, loyal to his elder brother, felt a surge of relief and guilt at the same time. Relief that Aditya had stood up for Dritharastra, and guilt for the tension Vidur's comments had caused. Pandu always believed Dritharastra should be king, and Aditya's defense only reaffirmed that conviction. He respected Vidur's wisdom, but Aditya's words made him question whether the Mahamantri had lost sight of what truly mattered: family and loyalty.

Pandu knew that he had to support Dritharastra, not just because he was his elder brother, but because it was the right thing to do. He shot a glance at Vidur, silently hoping that his wisdom would guide him back to the path of loyalty.

Gandhari, Dritharastra's wife, felt a surge of anger. Vidur's disrespect toward her husband was intolerable, and Aditya's defense brought a fierce pride to her heart. Yet, beneath that pride, she felt the strain of family ties being tested. Would this confrontation heal the rift or widen it? She resolved to support her husband and her son, whatever the cost, but the path ahead seemed fraught with uncertainty.

Sakuni stood at the edge of the court, a sly smile on his lips. He saw in Aditya a spark that could ignite the court in unpredictable ways. The young prince had challenged the Mahamantri, and in doing so, had shifted the power dynamics. Sakuni's mind raced with possibilities. Could he turn this confrontation to his advantage? He knew that disruption often led to opportunity, and Aditya's words had created a rift that could be exploited. It was a risky game, but one he was more than willing to play. Either way, he was prepared to take advantage of the chaos that might ensue.

Each reaction added a layer of complexity to the unfolding drama. Aditya's words had stirred the court, and the ripples from this moment would carry far beyond the throne room, changing the course of the Kuru dynasty.

Aditya's voice was sharp, with an edge that carried across the courtroom. "Mahamantri Vidur, do you truly believe my father can't lead just because he can't see? What about all the wise men who have guided leaders for centuries? If you're concerned about his limitations, shouldn't you, as his chief advisor, be working to overcome them?" The challenge in his tone left no room for doubt, forcing Vidur to reconsider his stance.

Sakuni, watching from the sidelines, felt a surge of pride. This was beyond what he expected from someone so young. "Yes, mere bache," he thought, a grin spreading across his face. "Even I couldn't have said it better myself." He admired Aditya's ability to turn the argument on its head with a simple question.

Vidur, taken aback by Aditya's confident response, tried to regain his footing. "But, Aditya, it's not just about physical sight. Leading a kingdom requires-"

"Vision?" Aditya cut in, his voice edged with irony. "Yes, vision. But it's about more than what you see with your eyes. True vision is about understanding, about seeing the bigger picture. You can have sight and still be blind to what really matters. Shouldn't you, as Mahamantri, be helping my father navigate this bigger picture?" His words echoed through the courtroom, and the murmurs of agreement indicated that Aditya's challenge was shifting the atmosphere.

Sakuni's pride swelled. "He's got a point," he thought, his mind racing with the brilliance of Aditya's arguments. "If Vidur isn't careful, he'll end up proving Aditya's point for him."

Vidur's voice wavered as he tried to respond. "Yes, but the king must also be able to lead in times of crisis, to make quick decisions-"

Aditya leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "And what is your role as Mahamantri? Isn't it to support the king in making those decisions? To provide guidance and counsel when needed? Shouldn't you be focusing on how to support him, rather than pointing out what you think he can't do? If you can't support him, then who will? Are you suggesting that the entire court lacks the ability to lead just because my father is blind?" Aditya's questions challenged not only Vidur but the entire court.

Sakuni felt a rush of admiration. "This kid has more insight than half this court put together," he mused, his grin widening. Aditya's quick thinking was shifting the momentum, turning Vidur's criticisms into questions about the court's responsibility.

Vidur attempted to regain control of the narrative, reaching for another angle. "A king must be able to inspire confidence. How can he do that if he can't even see the people he's leading? What happens when there's a crisis, or if we're at war? A blind king cannot lead an army," he said, his voice faltering.

Aditya replied, his voice steady, "A king's role isn't to lead armies; that's what commanders like Bhishma and Pandu are for. If a blind king is a problem, then isn't it the court's duty to be his eyes? Isn't that what you're here for, Mahamantri Vidur?"

The courtroom fell silent as Aditya's questions cut to the core of the matter. His maturity and reasoning made the courtiers question the assumptions that led to Vidur's objection. Some nodded in agreement, acknowledging the strength in Aditya's words.

Sakuni felt a surge of pride, thinking, "Answer that, Vidur. Let's see how you wriggle out of this one."

Vidur hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words. He tried to respond with a different approach. "A king must lead by example. If he cannot set the standard for the kingdom, how can we expect others to follow? A king must oversee the entire kingdom, ensure justice is served. How can a blind king do that when he can't see the details of the cases brought before him?"

Aditya didn't back down. "Leadership isn't about physical sight; it's about setting a vision for the kingdom and guiding it with wisdom and fairness. My father can set that standard because he has the support of this court. If you, the Mahamantri, can't guide him, then what does that say about the strength of this court? Are you saying none of you can help my father because he's blind?" His voice was steady, yet there was a sense of finality, challenging Vidur to re-evaluate his position.

The court buzzed with whispers as Aditya's words resonated. Bhishma, who had been quiet throughout, was now considering the implications of what Aditya had said. Sakuni felt his spirits lift, realizing that the young prince was questioning the very core of the court's responsibility.

Vidur, regaining some of his composure, decided on one final argument, raising a series of questions that challenged Dritharastra's ability to lead. "A king must be able to recognize shifts in court dynamics, detect deceit, and respond to the needs of his people," he began. "If he relies entirely on others to be his eyes and ears, what happens if those others are compromised or misled? If Dritharastra's leadership is limited to what others tell him, how can he maintain control? This isn't just a matter of personal disability; it's a question of the kingdom's stability. We need a king who can lead without hesitation, who can adapt quickly, and who isn't limited by physical constraints. If Dritharastra's leadership is limited to what others tell him, there's a risk that his perspective could be incomplete or biased."

The court was silent, all eyes on Aditya, waiting for his response. The young prince, who had grown visibly frustrated with Vidur's repeated focus on his father's blindness, leaned forward, his gaze steady as he addressed Vidur.

"Mahamantri Vidur," Aditya began, his voice calm yet authoritative, "you say that a king must recognize shifts in court dynamics and detect deceit. But isn't it the duty of trusted advisors to provide a king with that information? IF YOU, AS MAHAMANTRI, CANNOT ENSURE THE INTEGRITY OF YOUR COUNSEL, THEN PERHAPS THE PROBLEM ISN'T WITH MY FATHER'S ABILITY TO LEAD-IT'S WITH YOUR ABILITY TO SUPPORT HIM AS A MAHAMANTRI."

He paused, allowing his words to settle. The court felt the weight of his words, the finality with which Aditya had placed responsibility squarely on Vidur's shoulders. "You mention the risk of others being compromised or misled, but isn't that why a king has multiple advisors? To ensure checks and balances? If you fear that the king's perspective could be incomplete or biased, shouldn't it be your responsibility to ensure that doesn't happen? IF YOU DOUBT YOUR OWN ABILITY TO GUIDE HIM, THEN PERHAPS WE NEED A STRONGER MAHAMANTRI, NOT A DIFFERENT KING."

Vidur seemed taken aback by Aditya's directness, his usual confidence fading under the intensity of Aditya's challenge. He struggled to find a suitable response, his voice faltering as he grappled with the young prince's logic.

"Mahamantri Vidur," Aditya continued, his voice low but carrying through the courtroom like a whisper that demanded attention, "Isn't it your duty as a mahamantri to help the king lead? To guide him in making the right decisions? If you can't do that, what does it say about your role as Mahamantri? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SUPPORT MY FATHER, NOT TEAR HIM DOWN." His words were sharp, almost accusatory, but they resonated with a truth that few could deny.

The court was stunned by Aditya's response. A murmur of shock and agreement rippled through the assembled courtiers, as though Aditya's words had struck a raw nerve. Vidur's earlier confidence was unraveling before everyone's eyes. The logic behind his objections to Dritharastra's kingship was being systematically dismantled, and the court was waking up to a new reality-one in which the established order was being questioned by a child with wisdom far beyond his years.

Sakuni, watching from the sidelines, felt a surge of pride. "This boy... He's not just answering Vidur's points; he's reshaping the conversation and turning them around, making everyone question their own assumptions." Sakuni was impressed, realizing that Aditya's words had turned the tide in Dritharastra's favor.

Aditya continued, addressing Vidur directly, his gaze unrelenting. "You keep saying my father can't lead because of his blindness. Shouldn't you be focusing on how to help him as the mahamantri? Isn't that what you're supposed to do? IF YOU CAN'T DO THAT, MAYBE IT'S NOT MY FATHER WHO'S UNFIT TO BE KING-MAYBE IT'S YOU WHO'S UNFIT TO BE MAHAMANTRI," he said, his voice calm and steady but carrying a cutting edge that could cut through stone. The finality of his words left Vidur visibly shaken, his eyes darting, searching for a response that wouldn't come.

Aditya's words was like a hammer, driving home the point that Vidur's role as Mahamantri was now in question.

Vidur's expression shifted from confident to stunned. His eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. He was caught off guard by the boldness of Aditya's statement and the direct challenge to his role as Mahamantri. His mind raced as he tried to formulate a response, but each thought seemed to evaporate under the weight of Aditya's logic. The young prince's words had thrown him off balance, and he could feel the eyes of the court upon him, expecting a response that he struggled to find.

Sakuni whispered to himself, "CHECKMATE, VIDUR." He smirked, enjoying the sight of Vidur on the defensive. "Mere bache, you just flipped the entire argument. You took down Vidur with a single line - IF YOU CAN'T DO THAT, MAYBE IT'S NOT MY FATHER WHO'S UNFIT TO BE KING-MAYBE IT'S YOU WHO'S UNFIT TO BE MAHAMANTRI" he mused, marveling at Aditya's precision. Sakuni felt a surge of pride, recognizing in Aditya the kind of sharp intellect and strategic thinking he had always valued. The young prince had proven himself as a formidable opponent in the court, and Sakuni knew that Aditya's words would echo far beyond this moment.

The court was stunned by Aditya's response. Murmurs of agreement spread among the attendees, indicating that Aditya's words had struck a chord. Bhishma and Satyavati exchanged glances, impressed by the young prince's eloquence and wisdom. Dritharastra, who had sat quietly through the entire exchange, felt a mix of pride and relief. His son had not only defended him but had also challenged the very foundation of the court's leadership, and redirected the scrutiny onto Vidur.

The tension in the courtroom was palpable, the air thick with uncertainty and anticipation. Aditya's words had forced the court to confront its own biases and assumptions, and everyone was waiting to see what would happen next. Vidur's silence was a testament to the power of Aditya's arguments, and the future of the Kuru dynasty seemed poised on the edge of a new era.

Sakuni's thoughts raced as he absorbed the scene. "Mere bache , you have turned the tables on Vidur without breaking a sweat," he mused, watching Vidur's discomfort.

Sakuni's inner thoughts were a whirlwind of admiration and self-reflection. "I thought I'd have to manipulate you, use you, but seeing that your kavach protects you, I backed away. You just left me speechless," he mused, still processing everything he had just witnessed. "I didn't have to do a thing," he realized. "You did it all on your own." He had underestimated the young prince, thinking he could manipulate him, Aditya, a mere child, had not only stood his ground but turned the entire court's attention in his favor, all without any intervention from Sakuni.

"Who are you?" Sakuni wondered, both perplexed and impressed. Aditya spoke with wisdom far beyond his years, exhibiting an understanding that seemed almost otherworldly. The way he called out Vidur, his anger sharp but controlled, and then his calm demeanor as he spoke with clarity-it was a remarkable combination. Sakuni noted how Aditya's kavach appeared not only when he was in immediate danger, but also when someone approached him with impure thoughts or intentions. This protective shield even responded when Aditya's emotions surged beyond his control.

Sakuni couldn't help but smile. "I'm glad you are my sister's eldest son," he thought, a sense of pride washing over him. Despite his reputation for cunning and deceit, Sakuni felt genuine respect for the young prince's courage and intelligence. Sakuni knew he had to tread carefully around him. This realization marked a turning point in Sakuni's approach-Aditya was not someone to manipulate but someone to watch with caution.

Sakuni, always ready to seize an opportunity, steps across the polished marble floor, his movements graceful yet deliberate. He made his way toward Vidur, leaning in close with a smirk playing on his lips. "Still think Dritharastra can't be king? Seems like your argument's been cut down to size," he whispered, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. The court's reactions-a mix of amusement and shock-suggested that Sakuni's remark had struck a chord. Whispers spread through the assembly like a gust of wind, punctuated by a few muted chuckles.

Vidur's face tightened as he glanced at Sakuni, his earlier confidence crumbling. He took a deep breath, but the resolve that usually marked his demeanor was nowhere to be seen. "I never intended to question Dritharastra's capabilities," he replied, his voice noticeably softer, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. "I just wanted to ensure the kingdom's best interests were considered. But perhaps I went about it the wrong way." His words felt hollow, lacking the authority they once held. Vidur seemed unsure of what to say next, his gaze flickering between Sakuni and the rest of the court, seeking support that wasn't there.

Sakuni straightened up and turned to address the court. His voice was smooth, brimming with confidence, with an almost sardonic charm. "Ladies and gentlemen, it seems the question has been settled. Dritharastra's wisdom is more than sufficient to lead this kingdom. It doesn't matter what we can or can't see with our eyes; it's the vision of the mind and heart that truly counts. I believe we should proceed with the coronation without further delays." His words resonated, carrying the weight of an experienced manipulator who knew how to steer a crowd.

As murmurs of agreement spread, Vidur, visibly taken aback by Aditya's earlier challenge and Sakuni's biting remark, stepped forward. His tone was measured but carried a hint of contrition. "I spoke out of concern for the kingdom's well-being," he said, addressing the court. "I raised my doubts about Dritharastra's ability to rule because I believed it was my duty as Mahamantri to ensure that Hastinapur has the strongest leadership possible. However, I acknowledge that my words may have caused division instead of fostering unity."

Vidur's gaze shifted toward Aditya and Dritharastra, his expression softening. He continued, his voice subdued yet clear, "Aditya's words reminded me that my role is not to question but to support the king. If my words caused harm or division, I take responsibility for that. My duty is to support the king, not to undermine him. I apologize if my approach was too harsh."

The courtroom was silent, the air dense with emotion. The crowd leaned in, their expressions a mix of curiosity and relief. The court's dynamics had shifted; the balance was fragile. The weight of Vidur's admission hung in the air, tangible as he humbled himself before the court and his family. Aditya's presence had sparked a change, and everyone felt it.

Aditya stepped forward, his tone more measured and sincere as he addressed Vidur. "Kakashree, I'm sorry for my earlier words. I shouldn't have called you Mahamantri." His voice, though gentle, carried a sense of genuine regret. He knew the importance of reconciliation and was willing to take the first step, understanding that the family needed to heal.

Vidur nodded, his expression showing a mix of relief and regret. "Thank you, Aditya," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's not easy admitting when you've gone too far, but your words made me realize that I was wrong." There was a sense of earnestness in his response, a recognition that he had crossed a line. He felt the eyes of the court on him, waiting to see if he would truly make amends.

With a deep breath, Vidur turned toward Dritharastra and walked over to him, holding out his hands to grasp Dritharastra's. "Jyesth," he began, his voice filled with sincerity, "I am sorry for speaking of your blindness as if it were a weakness. I forgot that before anything else, you are my elder brother, and I made a mistake. You have always guided this kingdom with wisdom and strength, and I should have remembered that." His words were not just an apology but an admission of respect, an attempt to mend the broken bond between brothers.

Dritharastra's smile was gentle, his hands firm as he squeezed Vidur's in a forgiving gesture. The court watched in silence, seeing the two brothers reconcile and acknowledging the bond that had been strained.

With the matter resolved, the coronation can proceed, restoring the sense of unity and respect among the royal family and the court - OR NOT (READ 👇).

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To be continued...

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So are you compelled to write a comment after reading this chapter 🤔 Please give feedback about chapters even if it is simple words like good 👍 if you don't like the chapters or story or even feel like the story is too slow then also give feedback how you want so i can write according to that ☺️

And i wrote about Aditya and Ashwathama to show that Aditya can share his visions with Ashwathama.

So Dritharastra thought --- The throne seemed out of his reach, but Aditya presented the throne on a golden plate, now well within his grasp.

BUT....

I personally feel like i should make Pandu king and pandu making Aditya yuvraj because I want Pandavas and Kauravas fighting for throne -- in other words Pandavas would think that Yudhishthir as the eldest son of king(Pandu) and that Yudhishthir have the right on throne and Kauravas would think even though their father is acting king they know that their father gave the throne to Pandu so they believe Duryodhana is the rightful heir.

(You may think - Why would they fight for throne when Aditya is the one who is rightful heir being the eldest of kurvansh ... Because they will not know about Aditya till the day of kalapradharshan)

This will also make them arrogant and fight for throne right - what do you think? Based on your suggestions I will write the next chapter.

So give your answers in comments - Who should I make king -- Dritharastra or Pandu...

Based on your answers I will consider how to proceed with upcoming chapters and -- i will also write chapters longer or skip the details so that you don't feel story is too slow... 👉 Next chapter would be Pandu's marriage...

Don't forget to vote!!!!!