Genre: Slice of Life

Dasharath found Kaushalya near her baby, but this was to be expected. These days, his first queen wouldn't leave her son's side, no matter how close the maids tried to get to him, no matter how much her sisters cajoled her. Then again, the only reason Kaikeyi and Sumitra even tried to separate mother and child was because they too were so enchanted with his son.

His son. He knew so well what a blessing it was to be able to say those words.

Ram. His name was as perfect, as divine as his face. The color of his soft skin resembled the rain clouds, only flushing any other color when he laughed. And maybe this was fitting. Kosala had been a barren kingdom, a dead field without this child. With him, the monsoons rejoiced and the thinning crops became vivid forests of life. 

Could it be that his son was life itself?

Well, Dasharath knew one thing. This child was his life.

Other than his wife, of course, who rocked the baby's cradle as if hypnotized.

"Hello, Queen K," he rumbled.

Kaushalya glanced at him for only a moment, and her ageless smile widened. "You have two Queen Ks. You'll have to be more specific, Maharaj."

Dasharath walked into her chambers, brushing past the shimmering curtains. Night had struck Kosala, a kingdom which seemed permanently caught in daytime after the birth of his son. Even this was beautiful though, pale streaks of moonlight bouncing off the marble and into the etched curves of the cradle. 

Everything was silver and white, except his wife's doe brown eyes.

"I see now that you have a son, I have been replaced in your heart," he sighed, pretending to be forlorn.

Kaushalya knew him too well to fall for it. Or maybe she was really that enraptured with the baby.

"Alright, names. Diamond of my eye? Lotus in my pond? Grace of my kingdom? Fruit of my tree? Love of my life?"

Nothing swayed her. She remained enchanted with the baby, and Dasharath edged closer still.

"Mother of my son?"

The mother of his son finally looked at him again, gaze moving to his arms. "That'll do very well for now. Tell me, what do you have hidden behind your back?"

Smiling, Dasharath pulled his hands away, revealing a tiny bow to the moon. The sky sparkled.

Kaushalya's free hand flew to her mouth.

"How do you like it, Maharani?" he asked anyway, nervous in a way he'd only permit himself to be before her. "I know it might be a little uncouth for a boy so young, but we are kshatriyas, and-"

"Oh Dasharath," she whispered, letting her hand fall to her heart. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He beamed, gratified, and walked forward until he could look into the cradle.

There he was, the pride and joy of Ayodhya. So breathtaking, even in his slumber. Shut eyes, long eyelashes, tender body swaying back and forth between his pink silk blankets. His cheeks and forehead were painted with white dots, and delicate jasmines lay tucked between his black curls. 

Narayan, he could scarcely believe this boy was his.

"You're almost right, devi," Dasharath murmured, reaching down to smooth one of his hairs away. "But our son is the most beautiful of all."

Kaushalya leaned her head on his arm as he began to rock the cradle himself.

There was this wish he had. Many wishes, actually, and all pertaining to this baby, but for now, only one. "I'm sorry, my child, but Papa is a little impatient. He can't wait until you wake up, and he doesn't want to disturb your sleep."

His wife nodded, when looked at. As gently as he could, he lowered the little gift of his into the blankets.

It was perfect, this little scene. He was perfect, this little boy.

Then, Ram rolled over.

Oh. Oh, he was grasping the bow in his soft fingers. Oh, oh! He was pulling it closer, shifting until it rested against his silk-clothed chest. Up, down, up, down. It moved with his blessed breaths, as did the moon, shifting through the window so it could always shine upon the cradle, no matter how far it rocked. When the child yawned in his sleep, it was the shadows of a lion's roar.

"Oh mother of my son," Dasharath whispered, though he felt like crying, felt like shouting it from his balconies. "Our son will wield the bow quite mightily."

"Just as his father does, with every weapon in his possession."

When Kaushalya looked up at him, her eyes had the same sparkle Ram's did, when they played with him, when they tickled him, when they pressed him close and kissed him all over.

There would be more sons. Two more, as sure as the sun smiled upon the Raghus. Already his joy was so great, and to think it might be doubled, tripled! Unimaginable.

And so Dasharath didn't venture to imagine it. For now, surrounded by his wife, his son, and the ever innocent moon, he felt quite at peace with the world as it was.

---

"You have many bows," Sita observed wryly.

Morning drifted upon them again. He'd slept well. Ram rubbed his eyes, yawning and smiling at the same time. "Absolutely right, as always. But, you know, I do have a favourite."

This surprised her. She leaned forward, brown hair spilling over the crest of her shoulder. "Let me guess. Is it the one you carry around all the time?"

His lotus eyes found that familiar sparkle. "Close."

A/N: Author is slowly realizing how dumb it was to make a totally separate OS book. Mochu is stupidd. 

Blame Amita and Siva for this, because their carnatic recommendations, pfp changes/compliments, and Ram lalla agendas have gotten to me. I started this twenty minutes ago, and as you can see, I finished it too.

Why all the Dasharath centric things? No clue. Will there be more? Only time (and mah dumb brain) will tell.

Happy (not) 22nd! Except for some people, for whom it is still the 22nd!