The warm rays of dawn filtered through the crystal-carved windows of Vyomtara Manor, scattering light like fallen stars across the polished marble floors. In the heart of this noble home, three tiny sparks of life giggled in unison — Aryan, Sasi, and Aditya — now six months old, crawling with boundless energy and a curiosity that lit every corner they touched.
Though still small, the boys had begun mimicking sounds — soft coos, muddled syllables, and playful hums. Lady Elaria Vyomtara would often kneel beside them, listening closely, her heart fluttering with the hope that their first word might come at any moment.
By the seventh month, the triplets were no longer content with crawling. They were trying to stand.
Aryan, ever the observant one, was the first to grip the leg of a chair and pull himself up — wobbly but focused. Sasi followed close behind, his face shining with excitement. Aditya, the most stubborn of the three, fell often, cried loudly, but always stood up again with fire in his eyes.
Every tiny victory was met with joyous applause, gentle kisses, and soft laughter that warmed every heart in the manor.
One crisp morning, the triplets managed to sneak past the nursery maid. With unsteady steps and giddy squeals, they waddled into the open courtyard — and from there, into the training grounds, where steel clashed against wind.
Duke Varesh Vyomtara sparred with Lord Achintya, his father-in-law. Varesh's silver blade moved like moonlight through mist, while Achintya's spear twirled with the controlled grace of a veteran. It was not battle — but a dance of strength, discipline, and legacy.
From behind a stone column peeked three wide-eyed witnesses — Aryan clapping, Sasi pointing, and Aditya bouncing with joy.
"They've come to witness true warriors," Achintya chuckled. "Just like you once watched me."
Varesh laughed, lowering his blade. "And just like I'll teach them."
He walked over and scooped the boys into his arms, one by one. For a moment, the weight of steel was replaced by something far greater — the warmth of fatherhood.
That evening, the family gathered for prayers. Lady Elaria sat in the temple hall, draped in soft saffron silk, her sky-blue hair glowing in the flicker of oil lamps. Before the statue of Lord Brahma, she closed her eyes and chanted gently,
"Om Namo Brahmaya Namaha…"
Unseen, the triplets had followed her, crawling silently into the sacred space.
As her chant filled the hall, three small voices echoed hers.
A soft, drawn-out:"Omm…"
Elaria's eyes flew open.
She turned toward them, heart pounding, breath caught in her throat.
Tears filled her eyes — not from surprise, but from joy. Their first word. A sacred sound. Spoken not in play, but in devotion.
She scooped them up, holding them close.
"You are truly touched by the stars," she whispered, kissing their foreheads.
That night at dinner, she shared the moment. Even the stoic Duke Varesh paused, brushing away a rare tear. And for the rest of that evening, the manor was filled not with plans or politics, but with awe and celebration.
In the days that followed, their vocabulary blossomed."Ma.""Da.""Baba.""Gaga."
Their voices echoed through the manor, reaching for the people they loved — binding hearts tighter with each syllable.
One starlit night, they refused to sleep in their cradles.
Aryan clung to his grandmother's arm.Sasi curled into his grandfather's lap.Aditya, with a sleepy pout, clutched them both.
"Nooo…" Sasi mumbled, half-asleep. "Nani stay…"
"We sleep with you," Aryan whispered.
"Yaa... Amma and Appa get us all day. Now it's your turn," Aditya added stubbornly.
Sarvani and Achintya exchanged glances — already defeated by the sweetness.
Sarvani smiled. "But we're old, my little stars. If you don't sleep in your cradles, who'll listen to the moon songs?"
"I want to sleep next to Nanu," Sasi insisted, his voice barely a whisper.
And so, with promises of morning stories and lullabies sung in hushes, the triplets slowly drifted to sleep — still holding their grandparents' hands.
From the hallway, Elaria and Varesh stood silently, watching through the half-open nursery door.
"Are we doing this right?" Elaria asked softly.
Varesh placed a hand on her shoulder. "They're loved. That's all they need right now."
Sarvani joined them and smiled."Yes, my dear. You're doing more than right."
Later that week, beneath a twilight sky painted in gold and indigo, Lady Yamika gathered the triplets for a story.
"Once upon a time," she began, "a gentle cow and her calf lived peacefully. One day, the cow wandered into the forest… and met a hungry tiger."
The boys leaned in with wide eyes. Aditya gasped at the tiger's arrival. Aryan beamed when the cow stood her ground. Sasi clapped as the tiger, moved by love, protected them both.
When the story ended, Yamika smiled and whispered,
"Always keep your promises. Be brave. And always love your mother — like that little calf."
The triplets nodded — not because they understood all the words, but because her voice made them feel safe.
But mischief, as always, was never far behind.
One sunny afternoon, Sasi tiptoed into the kitchen and eyed a jug of sweet milk. Aryan and Aditya followed close behind.
Sasi reached for it... and promptly knocked over a stool with a loud thud.
From the hallway, Elaria burst into laughter.
The triplets froze — wide-eyed, hands covered in milk.
That night, she told the story over dinner. The manor echoed with laughter.
"These three will rule hearts before they rule a realm," Achintya declared, raising his cup.
As the moon rose and the manor drifted into stillness, the triplets curled into each other's arms — a tangle of soft limbs and sleepy sighs.
Born of fate.Bound by love.And just beginning their journey.