Genre: Melancholic

Ram wistfully stares at Shatrughan from under the palace roof, watches as he cackles with that signature wheeze behind his breath, pointing at an ever unfortunate Bharat trying to figure his way out of a tangled rope net.

Lakshman, as always, appears behind him, a small smile playing on his face. He's about to leave the shadow of the palace, join the other two, but one glance at Ram, and he stays back without a word. 

They don't speak. Instead, they just watch as Bharat finally untangles the last knot and stumbles out of his trap, immediately chasing after a snickering Shatrughan. 

Ram aches to feel the adrenaline of that chase, to wind around the thick trees, barely brushing past the bark. To push the thicket aside and disappear into the shadows, in excited await of an unsuspecting victim. To jump out of the branches like Shatru does, to see eyes widen and jittery legs jump back and feel that sense of mischievous accomplishment.

Ram aches to be just a little bit younger, more free, to leave the looming structure of the palace in the dust of his feet and run off into the horizon without another care. 

But even having been anything but, the glare of impropriety burns into him. Even having never worn it, the weight of the crown pushes into his head. 

"Next time, I'll be the eldest." Lakshman declares. Ram smiles.

A/N: Kind of want to make this part one of two parts, because present tense is confusing but gives a different type of unsettling mood to everything and Mochu loves nothing more than unsettling people-

I'm worried I'm turning into an angst author. Send halp pls.

Anyways...I wrote a page of PoA, have some Laksh stuff scheduled in this chapter so I'll definitely get another page in today at least. How are you?