Chapter 398 - 366: Meeting The Family...

(A/N):

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The children stared at the spectacle with wide eyes, some clutching their mothers’ hands while others leaned forward to get a better look.

A few of the older ones tried to maintain their dignity, having been repeatedly reminded that princes and princesses of the royal household were expected to behave with grace, but their excitement betrayed them all the same.

"Is that Father?"

one of the younger children whispered, tugging at the sleeve of the person standing beside him.

"Of course it is!"

another child immediately answered, sounding as though the question itself had been an insult to their intelligence.

"Who else would come riding in a chariot pulled by four giant tigers?"

"But Rajmata said he could defeat demons with his bare hands!"

A little girl exclaimed, her eyes fixed on the figure standing in the chariot.

"Does that mean he can defeat all four tigers too?"

Before anyone could answer, one of the older children turned towards her with an expression of utter disbelief.

"Why would Father fight his own tigers? They are his companions!"

The little girl considered this for a moment before nodding solemnly, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

Yet her attention returned to Devara almost immediately, for the king was far more interesting than any argument she could have with her siblings.

Rajmata Satyavati watched the exchange with an affectionate smile.

She had seen these children grow from infants who could barely open their eyes into curious young princes and princesses who now asked endless questions about their father.

She had told them stories of Devara’s childhood, his courage, his kindness, and his stubborn refusal to abandon anyone in need.

Sometimes she had described his victories, while on other occasions she had deliberately spoken of his mistakes, reminding them that greatness was not simply a matter of possessing extraordinary power.

Their father, she had explained, was someone who could stand before the mightiest beings in creation and still find time to care about the suffering of an ordinary person.

Yet even Satyavati had not anticipated just how overwhelming this moment would be for them.

They had imagined their father’s return countless times, but none of those imaginings could have prepared them for the sight of him arriving at the head of a procession, surrounded by the aura of a warrior who had spent years training under Lord Vishnu himself.

"Children,"

Satyavati said gently, although her own voice carried a tremor of emotion,

"the man you have heard so much about is finally home. Your father has returned to you."

That was all it took.

The youngest children began moving forward almost at once, only to be held back momentarily by their mothers, who were trying to ensure that nobody stumbled in their haste.

The older children exchanged excited glances, their earlier attempts at composure crumbling as they realised that they would no longer have to imagine what their father looked like or wonder when he would return.

He was here, within reach, and all the stories they had heard suddenly seemed to be coming alive before their eyes.

Gandhari, standing among the queens, could not help smiling at their eagerness.

She had spent years governing the kingdom in Devara’s absence, balancing the responsibilities of the throne with the needs of a vast household, but no duty had brought her greater happiness than watching her children wait for their father.

She knew that many of the youngest ones had been too small to remember him when he had left, and although she had shown them his portraits and told them about him, she understood that none of it could replace the experience of meeting him in person.

"Careful, all of you,"

She warned, though there was little authority in her voice now.

"Your father has only just arrived. At least allow him to step down from his chariot before you overwhelm him."

The children nodded with great seriousness.

For approximately three heartbeats.

Then Devara stepped forward, and every carefully maintained restraint in the courtyard began to crumble.

The moment he looked towards the waiting family, his expression softened.

The warrior who had faced terrifying creatures in the wilderness, endured years of punishing training under Vishnu, and confronted dangers that would have made even seasoned warriors hesitate suddenly found himself uncertain about what to do with the overwhelming warmth filling his chest.

His gaze moved across the familiar faces of his wives and elders before settling upon the children gathered in front of them.

So many children. His children.

Some were old enough to recognise him from the stories and images they had seen, while others stared at him with the unguarded curiosity of little ones encountering a person they had been told to love long before they understood what love for an absent parent truly meant.

One small boy peeked out from behind his mother’s clothing, studying Devara’s face as though trying to determine whether he resembled the hero from Rajmata’s tales.

A little girl standing beside him took one look at Devara, turned towards Satyavati, and whispered something that made the elderly queen laugh softly.

Devara heard none of it clearly.

He was too busy trying to take in every face before him, memorising expressions and searching for traces of himself in their features.

Then one of the youngest children broke away from the group.

The little one hesitated for only a moment before toddling towards him with both arms raised, apparently deciding that whatever rules existed for greeting a king were of considerably less importance than reaching the father they had been waiting to meet.

Devara’s face broke into a smile so broad that even the sternest members of his court would have struggled to recognise the expression as belonging to the formidable king they knew.

He immediately crouched down and opened his arms.

"Come here, little one,"

he said, his voice warm with affection.

"Let me have a proper look at you."

The child rushed into his embrace, and Devara lifted them effortlessly, holding them close as though he had been waiting four years for precisely that moment.

A tiny hand reached up to touch his cheek, exploring his face with innocent fascination, before the child suddenly giggled and pressed their face against his shoulder.

That was the end of any hope of keeping the others in place.

"Father!"

The cry rang through the courtyard, followed by several more voices calling out at once.

The children surged forward, their mothers finally surrendering to the inevitable as Devara found himself surrounded by an excited crowd of little princes and princesses.

Some clung to his legs, others reached for his hands, and the boldest among them demanded to be lifted up so that they could see him properly.

One of the older boys tried to approach with the dignity expected of his position, only to be pushed aside by a younger sibling who had no intention of waiting for anyone.

Devara laughed, a deep, unrestrained sound that carried across the courtyard.

He bent to lift one child, then another, while reassuring the rest that he was not going anywhere.

His arms, which had wielded divine weapons and shattered the defences of formidable enemies, were now occupied with children who seemed determined to claim every available inch of their father’s attention.

"One at a time!"

he exclaimed, although his smile made it abundantly clear that he was hardly complaining.

"I have returned after four years, not vanished for forty. You will all get your turn, I promise."

"Then you must stay here!"

one of the children declared, gripping his hand with surprising determination.

For a moment, Devara’s smile became quieter.

He looked down at the little face staring up at him, and the simple demand struck deeper than any weapon could have.

He had spent four years training to become stronger, mastering techniques that would help him protect his family and kingdom, but he had missed birthdays, first words, childhood discoveries, and countless ordinary moments that could never be recovered.

These children had grown while he was away, and some of them were meeting him for the first time with an understanding of the world that had not existed when he left.

He gently brushed the child’s hair away from their forehead.

"I am home now,"

Devara promised.

"And I intend to spend a great deal of time making up for the stories you have heard about me. You can ask me anything you wish, and I shall tell you what I can. But you must also promise me something in return."

The child immediately nodded, their eyes wide with anticipation.

"What?"

"You must tell me your stories too. I want to know what you have been doing while I was away, what made you happy, what made you angry, and which of your siblings has been causing the most trouble."

A chorus of indignant protests rose from the children, each one suddenly eager to accuse another of some offence.

Devara laughed again as the courtyard erupted into a lively exchange, while Satyavati shook her head in amusement and Gandhari covered her smile with one hand.

For the first time in four years, the palace was not simply welcoming its king back to the throne.

It was welcoming a father back to his children, and judging by the way they clung to him, none of them intended to let him forget just how long they had waited.

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(Author note:)

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