Illusion-Part 2

Hanuman exhaled as Sita was pulled back. In a flash, Indrajit drew his shining blade once more and dug it into Sita's abdomen. A loud shriek penetrated the shocked silence as Sita bent over slightly with the flash of pain in her stomach. Drops of red splattered on the ground. Nal and Neel looked up. Sita's eyes widened once more. "RAAAAAAAAA-" her scream was cut short as her eyes dilated, and her shoulders stopped struggling. The pulse in her neck, visible by Nal's sharp eyes, disappeared. A small breath was exhaled.

"MAA-" Hanuman shouted, running forward as fast as lightning, preparing to take flight, but before he could, laughing like a madman, Indrajit pushed Sita's dead body into the back of his chariot and rushed away, flicking the reins intently. "Maa...." Hanuman trailed off softly, beating his chest. "NO! NOOOO-" Sugriv pulled him back. "No." he whispered.

"With what face do we go to Prabhu?' Angad asked. "What face? We could have done something, anything. We were willing to sacrifice our lives, and we didn't. What face?" WIping his face, he walked away, followed dejectedly by Nal and Neel. Jambavan didn't repack his herbs, still staring at the place in the sky where Indrajit, and Maa Sita, had been. And Hanuman still kept his mouth slightly open. He had only known her for moments, at most, but she had already struck him as so good, so righteous, it was, it was-wrong. Wrong that she should die like this. It was wrong that she should be held captive. Wrong, that Hanuman could do nothing to save her.

-----O-----

"What?" Ram whispered. "What?" Hanuman did not repeat himself, instead staring at the ground, his head hung. Behind him, the hordes of monkeys mimicked his actions. Hands limp, heads hung, maces on their backs forgotten. His hands trembled as he placed them in Hanuman's. "Look me in the eyes, Hanuman, and tell me you are saying the truth." he paused, waiting with bated breath as Hanuman looked up.

The monkey did not have to speak. Ram knew from the tears which invaded those fierce eyes. "No." he said, the word hissed out like a taboo. "No." he stepped back, and stumbled, his foot catching on a rock laying there, on the ground. Lakshman caught him before he could fall, and Ram found arms being wrapped around him, those strong arms of his brothers. "NO!" he yelled, his voice shrill as he punched Lakshman's arms.

"NO! NO! NO!" His yells became more frequent as he struggled, and Lakshman would not give way. "NO NO NO NO NO!" Ram did not wait to catch his breath, he lurched forward. He had to do something, anything. His eyes landed on the Brahmastra. Perfect. They had to suffer. They had to suffer, they had to die. They had to die, because his Sita was dead. If only he could make it longer, more torturous.

Lakshman caught his arm, however, before he could reach for the astra, hugging him tightly from the behind once more. "Bhaiyya," he began. "Bhaiyya. Bhaiyya." Ram shook his head, his eyes clouded with tears. "Bhaiyya, you need to stop." Ram shook his head some more, pointing aimlessly to the quiver full of arrows. He could kill them. He could kill them all. He was so close-"Bhaiyya." Lakshman said again. His voice was not firm, but it was certain. "Bhaiyya, you need to stop. Not everyone should suffer for their crime. Bhaiyya-"

And eventually, Ram did stop, sinking to the ground. "Sita," he whispered. "My Sita. You should have been a queen. You should have been so many things. Dumb!" Ram slapped himself. Lakshman winced, but managed to keep his eyes open, for the next time Ram tried to hit himself, he was stopped. "WHY? WHAT DID SHE DO, UNIVERSE?" Ram hung his head down, exhaling, before looking at Hanuman. His eyes drifted, all the way to the entrance of the tent, where Vibhishan had just poked in.

"What happened?" asked the weary man, glancing around uneasily himself. He was about to ask 'Why so green?' (because you know, the green of the tent reflects on them), but decided that was against all context clues. For one, Ram was sobbing. "What happened, Prabhu?"

But it was not he who answered, but Hanuman. "Indrajit, he-he-he stabbed Maa Sita." They all descended into tears or darkness again, except Lakshman, who was still intent on making sure the Brahmastra was out of reach.

But Vibhishan looked up. "He did not," he said gently. Hanuman stood up curiously. "He did not. And in this, I am in no way questioning you, Hanuman, I am just stating fact. Think about it, why would Ravan order his obsession, his sole wish, to be eliminated like so?"

"But Vibhishan," Hanuman began. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"And-" Vibhishan said. "I am not saying that you are lying. But remember Indrajit and his illusions? His maya? You think that he could not impersonate anyone and everyone with the magic he wields?" Vibhishan fell to his knees. "Prabhu, Maa Sita is still alive."

A few hours earlier....

"What?" Ravan exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the ever-dented armrest. Since the "Architect of the Heavens" was currently unavailable, Ravan had to settle with any old gold wroughter to fix his armrest, but apparently, his gold wasn't quite as strong enough as he made it out to be, causing Ravan to have to call the quivering man back over and over in order to keep the cut sparkling on his trendy seat. "Kumbha and Nikumbha, both?"

The sudden memory of Sita, eyes as deep black as the universe and perhaps his own soul, flashed back at him, but he quickly sent the image flying out of his mind (and smack dab into the temple of poor Lakshman's head. Jeez, he can't seem to catch a break, can he?). Ravan, not normally known for his temper controlling skills, slammed the armrest again (#justiceforRavan'sarmrest), standing up.

A messenger-witness from the court that very day would swear to the end of his life, with his last breath (which was to come very soon, make no mistake about it), that his king's eyes had flashed red. Well, all everyone saw was also red, considering that Ravan sent a spear flying, with a flick of his hand, into a guard standing near the windows (a matter of great sensitivity to Ravan since the Angad, when the quirky monkey had escaped through that very window).

"I've had enough of this," Ravan growled, his hand aimlessly grabbing and grasping at the sword placed at his waist. Unlike a certain Late Raja Vanshik, A.K.A Mayasur, (whom Lakshman had very sensibly pointed out to himself, probably kept his sword just for decoration), Ravan could very well use the blade kept polished and sparkling at the side of his waist. "I have had enough of Sita and her stupidness."

He unsheathed the sword, making many of his loyal rakshasas jump back in fear. The blade, and countless others, had taken lives. Not only for enemies, mere mortals, but of their own. Ravan was unpredictable, and he liked killing anyone and everyone (just for variety, a rakshas has got to have a large choice to pick and choose). "She needs to die. This woman is not worth this much. I don't believe she should live a second longer! See how she likes it when I grab her hair and slit her throat." Forget lovelust, the way Ravan closed his eyes and shuddered could only be described as bloodthirst, pure venom and brutality.

If it were not for a certain man stepping up, Sita would have died (all the previous 'no-touching-me-or-you-die sensible rules being set aside, which prevented Ravan from touching her earlier if you amnesiacs remember,). "Stop, Ravan." came a deep, throaty sort of voice. Ravan turned around, eyes blazing, only to meet the equally blazing ones of his uncle (I don't remember maternal or paternal).

"What use has this war been? What worth? Once you kill Ram, and mark my words, you will kill Ram-" (he says as if Ram has not killed all of his sons, nephews, etc. etc., but whatever) "-what should we do with a dead, preserved body? What reward shall your hard work and toils have been for then? The true fire of war and passion is to take the trophy, to enjoy the fruits of your labor and sacrifice-" (he says as if Ravan made the sacrifice, and not all of his warriors, but whatever). "-If Sita is truly exquisite as you say her to be, only you should enjoy her, and not Yama and his devils." (he says, as if Yama is a terrible person. Sita, being Maa Lakshmi, would have been very well treated by a very misunderstood, and quite kind Yama, but whatever).

Ravan set his sword down with a hum, rubbing the stubble slowly building up on his chin ( a few days ago, he had grown tired of the beard which none of his concubines complimented anymore, and so he cut it off). "Yes," he said. "Yes, yes, yes. I shall not kill Sita! What kind of a stupid idea is that? Who suggested it? Whoever did, I shall have you killed!" (You suggested it yourself to Ravan, but no worries, you have led yourself to your own death, so everything works out in the end).

Suddenly, Indrajit stood up. Ravan glanced at him, his mustache quirking (no, twerking) for a second. "Papa," began the manipulative genius. "What if Sita did die?" Ravan stumbled back, his mouth opening slightly and closing. Indrajit had never betrayed his orders or said anything that didn't agree with his specific words, so why the sudden change? Did Indrajit himself want Sita, and decided that if he couldn't have her, no one could? (no ship). "What if we convinced Ram's army that she did die?" he lifted his palm, and small green flames sparked from it as he raised a single eyebrow. "They say heartbreak is the worst, most painful way to die. Why not put that to the test?"

A/N- Yay! My wifi has lost it again. My computer is not working, so I have to use my ten year old tablet, which is always fun. My ten year old tablet has barely any wifi either. Ugh. life. Anyways, with the whole Indrajit killing Sita illusion thing, if I were any other writer, I would have made a whole story about twisting anything and everything as an illusion. You never know what's real around you. But I won't do that.

As the Lakshman shakti nears, I strive to get myself into angst mood. I have been reading sad things (Stone Fox, The Namesake, Sad fanfics, whatever angsty $ I've written that I never intend to publish, etc.) and also, I have been studying more on my break. Just to help with the mood. Let's do this fam! *pumps fist*

Also, #Mochunamesthings, I need a name for this-oh wait-I'm Mochi. Okay, anyways. Why are y'all calling me Mochu? It's MOCHIIIIIII-Or Mrinalini. Whatever. 

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