Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable
Chapter 428 - 396: Anger Of Vrishasena On His Son...
(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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The prince lowered his eyes for a moment, but the silence that followed did not last long.
"I wanted to come with you, Father,"
he replied, his voice carrying the earnest conviction of a child who believed that a sufficiently good reason could excuse almost anything.
"You are going to fight Devara, and you told me that a king must protect his kingdom. I thought that if I came here, I could watch you lead the army and learn how a real king fights."
"You always say that I must become strong enough to protect Vrishabhapura when I grow up, so why am I supposed to remain in the palace whenever something important happens?"
For a brief moment, Vrishasena simply stared at him.
There was an answer to that question, several answers in fact, but the king struggled to decide which one his son was old enough to understand.
He had spent years teaching the boy that a ruler must be courageous, disciplined, and willing to accept responsibility for his decisions.
Unfortunately, children had a remarkable talent for taking the lessons their parents considered important and applying them in precisely the manner their parents had hoped to prevent.
"Because you are ten years old!"
Vrishasena finally exclaimed, raising his voice again.
"There is a difference between learning how to protect your kingdom and throwing yourself into a situation you do not understand."
"This is not a royal procession, nor is it a festival where you can sit beside me and watch the warriors march past. This is a battlefield. Men will be injured, men will die, and there will be moments when even experienced commanders will struggle to understand what is happening around them."
"Do you think your presence here will make the slightest difference to the outcome of the war? What will you do if the camp comes under attack? What will you do if the soldiers are forced to retreat and you find yourself separated from everyone who is supposed to protect you?"
The prince’s expression changed at the mention of death, though he tried to conceal it.
Until that moment, he had imagined the battlefield through the stories told by bards and the accounts of warriors returning from distant campaigns.
In those tales, brave kings rode into battle beneath magnificent banners, their weapons flashing in the sunlight as they defeated their enemies and returned home to the cheers of their people.
The stories rarely lingered upon the wounded soldiers who could no longer hold their weapons, the horses that never returned to their stables, or the families who waited in vain for someone who would never again cross their threshold.
"I would stay close to you," the boy answered after a pause.
"You would protect me, wouldn’t you, Father?"
The question struck Vrishasena more deeply than the prince could have imagined.
His anger did not disappear, but for an instant it became entangled with something far more painful.
He remembered the years of uncertainty that had followed his own father’s death, the nobles who had smiled at him while secretly plotting to seize his throne, and the sleepless nights during which every unfamiliar sound outside his chamber had seemed like the beginning of another betrayal.
He had been only ten when he inherited the crown, and by the age of fifteen he had been forced to crush the conspiracy that threatened to strip him of everything.
Those years had taught him to distrust weakness, to guard his authority fiercely, and to ensure that no one could ever place his kingdom at the mercy of another man’s ambition.
Yet his son had grown up in a very different world, one in which the palace guards bowed when he passed, servants hurried to fulfil his wishes, and his father’s presence represented a certainty that the young prince had never seriously questioned.
The boy believed Vrishasena could overcome every danger because, throughout his life, that was precisely what his father had appeared to do.
He had never witnessed the helplessness of a child who could do nothing while powerful adults decided the fate of his family.
Vrishasena drew a slow breath and stepped closer, lowering himself until he was looking directly into his son’s face.
"Of course I would protect you,"
he said, his voice quieter now, though the sternness had not entirely left it.
"If you were in danger, I would do everything in my power to bring you to safety. But that does not mean you should deliberately place yourself in danger and expect me to solve the consequences of your foolishness."
"A father’s duty is not simply to rescue his child whenever he makes a reckless decision. It is also to teach him not to make those decisions in the first place."
The prince looked down at the ground, rubbing the toe of his footwear against the packed earth.
"I did not want you to leave without me," he admitted.
"Whenever you go somewhere important, you tell me that I must remain behind because I am too young. I thought that if I came here, you would see that I am brave enough to stand beside you."
Vrishasena closed his eyes briefly.
Of all the explanations his son might have offered, that one was the most difficult to dismiss.
He could hear the affection hidden beneath the boy’s stubbornness, and he understood that the child had not travelled to the battlefield out of a desire to disobey him merely for the pleasure of doing so.
He had come because he admired his father, because he wanted to be included in the world that occupied so much of the king’s attention, and because the prospect of being left behind while his father marched towards war had frightened him more than he was willing to acknowledge.
Unfortunately, understanding the reason for the boy’s actions did not make the situation any less dangerous.
"Listen to me carefully,"
the king said, placing both hands upon his son’s shoulders.
"Courage is not measured by how close you stand to a battlefield. Anyone can walk towards danger without understanding what it means. A true warrior must know when to advance, when to retreat, and when his presence would place others at risk."
"You believe that coming here proves your bravery, but what you have actually done is force your mother to endure the fear of losing her only son before the war has even begun. You have also endangered the men who were responsible for guarding you, because your disappearance will be treated as a serious failure by the people who serve our family."
The boy’s eyes widened.
"Will you punish them because of me?"
"That depends on what the investigation reveals,"
Vrishasena replied.
"I will not condemn an innocent man merely because you managed to outwit him, but neither can I ignore a failure of royal security. Those guards were entrusted with your safety. They will have to explain how you left the palace without their knowledge, and you will have to explain to your mother why she was left believing that something terrible had happened to you."
At the mention of his mother, the prince’s confidence finally faltered.
He had expected his father to be angry, perhaps to order him confined to his tent for the remainder of the journey, but he had not fully considered what his disappearance would mean to the queen.
He imagined her searching the palace, calling for him in every room, questioning servants and guards while fear slowly overwhelmed her.
The thought made his stomach tighten.
"Is Mother very angry?" he asked cautiously.
Vrishasena gave him a long look.
"I have not yet received her response, but I can assure you that anger will be the least of your worries if she decides to come here herself. You know your mother."
"Once she learns that you have travelled into a military camp on the eve of battle, she may very well decide that the entire army is less important than bringing you home."
Despite himself, the prince almost smiled at the thought.
His mother was affectionate, but when it came to his safety, she could be every bit as formidable as his father. He quickly suppressed the smile when he noticed that Vrishasena had not softened his expression.
"Do not mistake my concern for forgiveness," the king warned.
"You will remain within the guarded section of my camp, and you will not approach the battlefield without my permission. You will not wander among the soldiers, climb onto a chariot, or attempt to follow a commander simply because you wish to see what he is doing."
"I will arrange for trustworthy guards to remain with you at all times, and when the war is over, you will return to the palace with a proper understanding of why you were forbidden to come here."
"But, Father, I can help,"
the prince protested, gathering a little of his courage again.
"I can carry messages, or help the wounded, or do something useful. I do not have to fight."
"Do you know how to recognise a battlefield message that must reach a commander immediately? Do you know where the healers will be stationed, how to distinguish their attendants from ordinary camp servants, or what to do if the camp is suddenly ordered to move? You have no training for any of those responsibilities."
"You would be another person whom my soldiers must protect when they should be concentrating on their duties."
Vrishasena’s gaze remained firm.
"If you genuinely wish to help your kingdom, then begin by obeying the people who are responsible for your safety. You will have plenty of time to learn the responsibilities of a ruler, but you will not learn them by pretending that you are already a warrior."
The prince fell silent, and this time he did not attempt to argue.
His shoulders sagged slightly as he began to understand that his father’s refusal was not simply another attempt to keep him away from something exciting.
Vrishasena had spoken of danger with a seriousness the boy had rarely heard from him, and beneath the anger there was a fear that could not be concealed entirely.
Seeing that his son had finally begun to listen, Vrishasena drew him into a brief embrace.
The gesture surprised the prince, who had been bracing himself for another lecture, and he clung to his father for a moment before the king drew back and straightened his clothing.
"You are my son before you are the crown prince of Vrishabhapura," Vrishasena told him.
"I have spent my entire life making certain that no one can take this kingdom from me, but there is one thing I cannot replace if I lose it. You understand that, do you not?"
The boy nodded slowly.
"I am sorry, Father. I did not think Mother would be so frightened. I only wanted to stay with you."
"I know,"
Vrishasena replied, his expression softening despite himself.
"And when this war is over, we will speak about how you can begin learning the duties you will one day inherit. But you will learn them properly, under the guidance of those who know what they are teaching you. You will not decide on your own that the rules no longer apply simply because you wish to prove something."
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