The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

To Know

!! Trigger Warning-Creator Chose Not To Specify !!

A/N-Okay, so I know you all were expecting some allusion to the shakti incident by this point, but trust me, this chapter is important to the overall plot development and character. Promise, I promise. Next chapter will be even more interesting for y'all!

Important Scene

"We're running out of wood, bhaiyya." Angad said, rubbing his hands together worriedly. "We can't do too much anymore. And we need wood for everything." He sighed, sitting down, and though Lakshman wanted to do the same, he did not, simply kneeling and picking Angad back up. "And though there's that one forest, the wood there is-" he flinched. "Weak."

Lakshman glanced around. "Well, we can make the cots lower, so even if it gives out, it'll be lower. I do not believe that there's so much else we need with wood anyways. Cots, tables, occasional sticks for cooking plates. Not much else, right? Just-" he glanced at the pillars holding the tent up, but Hanuman called out from the battlefield.

"Bhaiyya!" And both raced out.

-----O-----

The moment Vibhishan's words rang in the air, Lakshman let go of Ram. As expected, his bhaiyya did not make a wild move towards the Brahmastra. His dark circle-lined eyes stared at Vibhishan. Hanuman, behind the man, collapsed to his knees. Sugriv set down his mace, his arm looking sore, and Angad and Nal leaned into each other. Jal calmly set Neel on a bed and began bandaging whatever minor wounds he might have retained. "Not...dead?" Ram asked, clearing his throat.

Vibhishan allowed a small silence to be kept between them, before clearing his own throat, which suddenly felt constricted and filled with something thick and difficult. "Not dead." he affirmed. Ram let out a strangled sort of yell, standing up with a strat, making everyone jump back. Lakshman got up as well, brushing himself off. The man would never admit how hard it was to hold his bhaiyya back, how his arms ached.

For a moment, all Ram could feel, beating in his heart like a chant, was that she was alive. God, Sita was alive. If he closed her eyes, he thought he could still feel the silky feeling of her hair and see the shining brown of her eyes, glistening in the dim lamp light, even as the sun set. He would see her again. He had to. He couldn't live off these memories, and not hug her, to have her by his side. It was sickening to even think of doing so. To be forced along with only the essence of his mind with him would drive him mad.

Then, just as a breeze rushed through, Ram's eyes suddenly narrowed. His hair whipped in the wind, and though it would be impossible for a mortal to do so, nevermind his future command of the greatest empire of all time, everyone believed that it was Ram only who had invited Vayu's furious presence. Abruptly, like a flash of lightning, the crown prince was faced with the wall-like realization that he could have never seen Sita again, that she was indeed in the clutches of the demon king. At his mercy.

------O------

The war hadn't ended for the day though, even as realizations struck the leaders of both armies. Ram, armed with a bow, stepped out of the tent, deciding that enough was enough. He couldn't just stand here, being the leader of the vanar sena, and not do anything as his warriors were massacred. It didn't fill his conscience with a good feeling, to watch all the bloodshed without taking part. After all, there was no champion today. If any vanar was being killed, it was the rakshasas' fault.

Meanwhile, Lakshman had chosen to stay back, to help with the growing number of injuries. Vanars who had smaller things like cuts and splinters stepped out of their beds, going untreated in order to make up for the shortage of soldiers. Surely even half of an army with Prabhu Shri Ram himself fighting was worth more than ten times their full army.