He plays a tiniest part but its also like my favorite story

So King Chitrangad is next in line to the throne of Hastinapur and is this arrogant guy with, max, one working braincell. He thinks he is the greatest person ever and says that he is so powerful that he could vanquish the gods himself.

So one day he was challenged by a pissed off gandharva who was also named Chitrangad over their shared names, so if either party loses they have to change their name (the gandhavra operates on a one steve limit)

So anyway, the human King Chitrangad accepts this challenge from a forest-spirit-demigod-master of-illusion-and-keeper-of-soma. It doesn’t end well.

“Faster!” barks Elder Brother, and Vichitravirya slumps, exhausted. His brow is heavy with sweat; it drips down his face to mingle with his tears. 

“He is only strict with you since he wants you to improve,” Mother soothes later, but his eyes, Vichitravirya can see, Vichitravirya knows, are uncertain. He is not so naive as she; he can sense what his elder brother means. You will never be able to equal me, he says, in so many words, you, born of a fisherwoman rather than the goddess herself. You will never taste victory. 

Chitrangad might have, before his death, but Vichitravirya is nothing so special. He is only himself.

He will disgrace himself no longer, he decides, and he refuses to go to the training grounds again, not for any amount of pleading on Mother’s part or exasperation on Elder Brother’s part. He refuses to go to Kashi, for what sort of fool sought out more humiliation for himself? He refuses to marry Amba, because in her anger at his brother, he sees a reflection of his own despair; and instead he sets her free. 

“Fight, my lord,” his wives urge when he falls ill; “please, fight!”