If Indrajit was like Ravan in anything but terribleness, it was ego. A very big, very infamous, and very undefeatable, ghastly ego. And currently, he was seething with a simmering, neverending anger as he sat upon his bed, his hands folded together so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he gritted his teeth together so furiously that his front tooth was chipped into a sharp, dagger like point. If Indrajit was like Ravan in anything but terribleness, it was the thirst that was never satiated for blood.

Sulochana shuddered, but she didn't say anything, not a word, as her husband paced the room. Simply adjusting her maang tikka, she turned around and placed the large, golden bangle that she was wearing back into the drawers of her jewelry chest and stood up, brushing herself off. Finally, the silence was too much for her to bear, and her eyes flashed dark and angry as she approached Indrajit and smacked his chest. Hard. He stumbled, almost back into the bed, before he balanced himself and his eyes lit.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" he roared, his infamous temper finally triggered. He grabbed Sulochana's hand and pulled her towards him. "What was that for, you good-for-nothing-" he trailed off, but his grip did not weaken, and his temper did not slow. "You know, this must be your fault. You said that nothing could defeat me on the battlefield, and then something did, didn't it? Something made me run off of the place where I live, where I thrive, and now-"
Indrajit mumbled incomprehensible things, his hand rushing towards his astras as always, and for a moment, Sulochana finally felt something pang in her heart. Fright. Not that she hadn't felt the emotion before, for she had. Every time her husband walked into battle, his entire body in flames but remaining untouched, pristine as ever, she felt fright crawl inside her like a betrayal to all of her trusting words.

But it wasn't fright like this, fright for herself. It wasn't like she ever thought that her words wouldn't come true. She never imagined that Indrajit would want to hurt her. The woman he fell for. She remembered, ever so wistfully, a time where the prince of the great and revered Lanka fell to his knees in front of her, and practically begged her to marry him. Her own ego had been stroked with this gesture, and she had agreed. Indrajit was a most handsome prince.

But time showed, as it always did, and time told, as it was prone to doing, that there was so much behind this handsome young warrior prince. There was the sly cleverness of a fox, and the ferocious fighting of a tiger, and pride as great as the one of an elephant, but he was not the humble man who had fallen to his knees. No, he was the son of Ravan, and he would go to great, and truly, every length, to prove that he deserved that title. Well she had a title too. She was a princess too.

And then Sulochana straightened herself up and glared into his eyes. Her own were a dark, bottle green, an endless pit of sharp glass, which Indrajit had once peered into, had gotten lost in. She wrenched her hand out of his grasp and drew herself up into an unassisted stance. "You seem to forget, son of Ravan, that I am Sulochana, Princess of the Nagas, and I am the daughter of Seshnag, and I have every astra at my disposal should you leave me. I am not only your wife!" Indrajit opened his mouth and closed it.

"So tomorrow, my words will come true. Tomorrow, Indrajit, I will give you an astra that I never showed you before. Tomorrow, I shall show you why I married you. A princess as great as I deserves a prince. A prince grander than all princes. And tomorrow, with this weapon, you shall show everyone why you are the husband of Sulochana, the prince of Lanka, and imminently, the son of Ravan, the pride of the City of Gold."

-----O-----

The sun rose up over the mountains again, and Ram led out the army once more. This time, Lakshman insistently grasped his bow, and Ram, with a sigh, let him. The truth was, in war, he never really trusted anyone to not hurt his Laksh. Sure, his brother was great with war, and loved it too, but what if he got hurt? What if someone thought 'Oh! Kind-hearted, fierce, and loyal! Perfect! Let's kill him next!' That always seemed to happen, the best of people died, and it was no secret that Lakshman almost always almost died.

But Ram let him, telling himself that there was always himself, and that he would protect his brother will his life, if need be, that he would be keeping an eye out for Lakshman. Hanuman grew ten sizes again, and Angad twisted his newly mended mace in his hands. Neel finally set aside his herbs and handed them to Jambavan, quickly arming himself with a boulder and standing next to Nal, who patted him on the back. There was this aura of tenseness, and every body was stiff.

Stiff and silent. They would not be the ones who charged today. Both sides were recovering. From what? Loss of pride, loss of warriors. Loss of lives. A life, every one, was the son of a mother, the father of a child, the sibling of another, the pride of their father, and a warrior for their king. Each and every one of them, fighting with whatever they had, had a reason for it. Just, some reasons were better than others.

And in a blink of an eye, the rakshasas walked over the blindspot and onto the dusty battlefield, where the monkeys waited for them, teeth suddenly bared as their faces were solemn and apprehensive before. A single, quiet moment passed, the beautiful silence between the storm, the eye in the middle of the hurricane, the holded breaths before something promisingly great. And then, the rakshasas charged, and the second day of war began.

If the monsters and demons and Ravan's entire army had suffered a lot the previous day, perhaps their suffering was magnified tenfold the next, for Ram had entered the battlefield, and there was a reason that he was the most capable prince in the mainland. Ram could fight with both hands, both right and left, unleashing arrows with great thought and consideration. Whenever it seemed that a mass of soldiers would mutilate the vanars, Ram was there, thousands of arrows being released into the air by each second.

Lakshman, meanwhile, had none of the thoughtful deliberation of Ram. He really didn't care who he killed, as long as it was a rakshas. But even with all of the fearless fighters on the opposite side, Ravan's army did not dwindle or lose their pride. For every single soldier killed, ten more would ascend upon the battlefield, snarling and seething. It was an equal clash, men on horseback fighting five monkeys on foot.

-----O-----

"So many dead, so many dead." Jambavan murmured in his raspy, growly voice, shaking his head in remorse as he bandaged the wounds of an injured, moaning bear. "And so many in eternal pain and suffering. I had a bear, one of my own, walk up to me today, and in his arms, he held the dead bodies of his two brothers. Both lost to the strike of an enemy, both succumbing to the tempting clutches of death."

Jambavan looked up as he finished rubbing a salve on Sugriv, but the king did not leave, listening to the words of the bear intently. "He did not ask it, but I know he felt it. He wanted to ever-so-badly, ask "Is it worth it? Should I still fight?" The thing was, he did not ask, and so I could not answer. How I wish I could though, how I wish I could tell him that this, this cause, this seemingly endless battle, though only having lasted two days, is fully worth everything, that his brothers have found salvation and peace in the arms of the Gods."

"But who will listen?" asked Sushen, setting aside his herbs and shaking his head. "Who will listen, and who will understand? I wouldn't, if my wife passed, I wouldn't understand that it was worth it. Your subjects, the bears and the monkeys and whoever else has joined us, they are stronger than you could ever imagine, Raja Jambavan. They do not ask. But they feel. They feel the suffering and they feel the sorrow as Prahast, or Meghnad, or Atikaya, or whoever it is, ends the life of someone they held dear."

-----O-----

But as evening approached once more, all of this was forgotten. "Come!" cried Angad, suddenly taking up the role of the Crown Prince, the beacon of light just like Ram, as he gestured his friends, his fellow warriors, and his subjects into the den of safety. The second day had passed quickly, much quicker than the first. The first day of war was agony, like a chicken being slowly roasted over a fire. They had not known so many things, not the might of Ravan's army, they had not known the death in such magnitude, and they had not known of the astras that they did not have.

Tents were set up and herbs were pulled from the Earth and quickly brought over to the healers by runners, and Hanuman carried the injured on his massive body. Tears were shed, and sobs were ripped, but as Ram walked through the many tents of the injured, almost everyone stood up, and even the injured tried to. "Rest," Ram whispered in his serene voice, the smile as radiant as the shining moon in the sky not appearing on his face like the New Moon at the beginning of each month. Lakshman only could hope that there would be a reason that the crescent moon would peek out from the clouds again.

Hanuman walked up, not being able to muster a smile himself, simply bowing in front of Ram. "Prabhu, there is good news today. We were more prepared than yesterday, and we shall be more prepared on the turn of the morrow. There are less dead than injured, and even the injuries are less severe than yesterday. Perhaps tomorrow there will be even less who are sick or hurt or have to be treated."

Ram couldn't help but smile at the reasonable optimism. "But even the rakshasas were more prepared today." Jambavan rasped as he drank a cup of water. "Didn't you see? They expected, practically knew of our battle strategies and organization. Yesterday, we had the element of surprise on our hands, and they had their astras. Today, we both know what to expect. Who knows when the scale might turn, and we have the disadvantage?"

There was a pause of bated breath, before Neel quickly set down his herbs. "You had it yesterday, but you shall not today, Jambavan! I will not allow the last words uttered today to be so solemn! Maybe imagine better days, and imagine how they will be even grander after this battle! Who cares about tipping scales or advantages or anything. Who cares if we're dying by the hundreds? What matters is that we're doing something. What matters is that if we're dying, at least we're dying for a cause!

There was a muttering of agreement amongst the army, the army who had faced such death and injuries in a single day. Heads ripped clean off of bodies and limbs crushed under the feet of elephants and fingers sliced off of their hands. Some were speared along with their comrades by the same astra, and others were sent flying into the ocean, where they inevitably lost their air as they took a gasping breath. But just when it seemed as if the sun had finally set upon the vanar sena, they burst forth again, for numbers were nothing to them if faith remained. And their faith would always remain in their king, and their Prabhu.

But if the sun had seemed to set upon the monkey army, it certainly hadn't in real life. "Say, didn't the rakshas army retreat early today?" wondered Hanuman. "I mean, some still remain, but none of the big threats. The rest of the army still fights, but I don't have any calling to be out there. Prahast, his legion went back." Lakshman bit his lip from saying anything that would only make the mood worse. Hanuman seemed to want to perceive it from an optimistic view, however. "Maybe they were scared off!" he snorted. "Today Prabhu Shri Ram had joined the fight too! They weren't expecting a retaliation such as that!" Ram blushed a bright red, hardly perceivable in the dark golden light of the late afternoon. Lakshman grinned, and pulled Ram in for a tight hug.

But the thing that Jambavan saw next made the wise words in his mouth drift away as he stared at the sky in alarm. It couldn't be. They wouldn't do such a thing.

A/N-Suspense guys! Okay, so some of you suggested some more Meghnad-Sulochana. I'll try to do that. Sulochana wasn't terrible (no, she just gave her husband the weapons to kill Ram and the incarnation of her own father), and some of you suggested that I should even write a book about Mandodari (which will turn into a book about Lakshman eventually, I'll tell you, I'll find a way), so. Yeah. Cliffhanger. I WANT TO WRITE A CLIFFHANGER BUT I JUST CANNOT! You people are too good! Ramayana_lover even memorized the Valmiki Ramayana! HOWWWW! I tried to, but it's a long poem! 

By the way, nobody minds if I continue sending those little drabbles on their message boards, right? If you do, lemme know, oki? I just write those for fun. Yesterday's was depressing. I hope my drabble today will be better.