Ivaan's eyes narrowed, looking at the kit in his hand "Perhaps, I should... just maybe.......... listen to you" he murmured, " but what can I say.......I prefer tending to wounds that cut deeper than flesh."
Indu stood her ground. "You're trying to...
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The young prince was only seven years old when his mother died of a mysterious illness. Ivaan loved his mother dearly and missed her every day. She was kind, gentle, and always had a smile for him. She taught him how to read, write, and play the sword fight with him the wooden sword he still had. She also told him stories of his ancestors, who ruled the kingdom with wisdom and justice.
His father, the king Narasimha Varma, was grief-stricken by his wife's death. He became distant and cold, and rarely spent time with his son. He immersed himself in the affairs of the state, and left the prince in the care of his new wife Madhavi, the queen. She was a cruel and ambitious woman, who hated the prince and wanted to get rid of him. She treated him harshly, and made him do chores around the palace.
Madhavi also hired tutors who beat him and mocked him for his mistakes while it was seen a symbol of dotting mother to everyone else. She never gave him any praise or affection, and constantly compared him to her own sons, Ivaan's half-brothers. They were spoiled and arrogant boys, who bullied Ivaan in every possible way, being hostile to him. He also had a half sister who he never could understand where she stood sometimes she would help him and others she would stay silent.
Ivaan suffered in silence, and hoped that his father would notice his pain and rescue him. But his father was too busy and too blind to see the truth. It was not only his father, Madhavi had fooled it was everyone else too with her facade.
The only time he cared about the prince was training the prince to be a strong and brave warrior, who could defend the kingdom from its enemies. He made him practice sword-fighting, archery, and horse-riding every day, and punished him harshly for any failure. He never praised him or hugged him, and often ignored his cries and pleas. Everytime any of his Half-brothers were pushed to their limits his mother would swoon in to protect them.
Ivaan felt lonely and unloved, and wished he could escape from his miserable life. His younger self dreamed of his mother, and wondered if she was watching over him from the heavens.
The naive 7 year old also hoped that one day, he would find a friend who would understand him and care for him. He prayed that one day, he would be free from his step-mother's tyranny and his father's neglect. He hoped that one day, he would be happy.
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Ivaan's life changed as a little ray of sunlight stopping from making his heart freeze when he met a shy boy in the palace stable. He was a stable boy, who had come to take care of the horses. He had short brown hair, black eyes, and a friendly smile. He saw the prince sitting, and approached him with curiosity.
"Hello, who are you?" he asked.
"I'm the prince," he said, without looking at him.
"The prince? You don't look very happy. What's wrong?" he asked.
