MAKE SURE YOU GO TO MY MESSAGE BOARD BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER. 

It was a calm Sunday morning when Lakshman suddenly looked up from his wife's painting. His ears perked up, and he thought he could hear a faint sound in the distance. He looked around at the rest of his family to see any reactions. Urmila was busy working on another painting along with Bharat. Shrutakirti was busy embroidering with Maa Sumitra. Shatrughan was busy trying to get her to mess up.

Maa Kaikeyi was eating mangoes leisurely on a long chair. Maa Kaushalya was talking with Sita, both of them having large smiles on their faces. Mandavi was quilting. Ram bhaiyya was busy tightening the string on his bow, and his father, Raja Dasharath, was busy stroking his beard, and brooding, occasionally glancing at Ram as if trying to reassure himself.

Nothing. No one had noticed anything. Lakshman cleared his throat and went back to his painting only to begin to twitch. Something felt ominous. Something felt terribly wrong. "Um, I hear something," he muttered, almost shyly. Ram looked immediately up from his bow as every else's smiles faded. "Like a rumbling sound. It-ahem-doesn't sound very nice." Dasharath, knowing his third son's affinity for being devastatingly right in terms of war, raced up to the viewing scope up on the balcony.

He stumbled as his eyes reached the lense. He paced back a few steps, then forward. "I-I." he paused for a second before Kaikeyi rushed up the stairs as well, and began to calm him down silently with her presence. Feeling reassured, the aged king continued. "That's the flag of Mahisthami,one of the kingdoms we're allied with." The king swallowed as Shatrughan immediately stood up, shoulders squaring. "They're marching on us with thousands of men."

"Why on Earth would they do such a thing?" wondered Bharat, the diplomat who had ensured the alliance. "They are allied with us, we have a pact! Are they so greedy that they would march upon their own allies for gold? Does Princess Phool Jani need a new tiara so she can prance about?" Mandavi looked surprised, but not displeased with her husband's new sarcasm. Lakshman started in fright at the princesses' name.

"Yeah, ahem, long story short, this may be my fault." he raised a hand sheepishly, teetering from foot to foot as he felt eyes upon him, accusing and confused. Sumitra turned towards him immediately. Did he lose his temper on the girl? Did he secretly manage to strangle their messenger? What did he do? Upon her quizzical glance, Soumitri cleared his throat. "I may or may not have declined an offer of marriage, the hand of...you know."

Bharat winced. "Yep, that would do it." he murmured, pacing around again as Sita's eyes darted from Lakshman to Urmila, who had jutted her chin out in the air, and she smiled. He truly was faithful to her closest sister. She was appeased. She had always worried that perhaps one of her sister's husbands would get themselves another wife. She was grateful, of course, when the three brothers of her righteous husband had married them instead of some aging old douchebag, but she could not dispel the worries that threatened to take over her brain and aching heart.

"Why didn't you consult us first, Lakshman?" Bharat asked angrily, his lips curling in displeasure. "You could have told us instead of keeping it a horrendous secret! We need to know this stuff, it affects the whole kingdom, not just you. How many other marriage proposals have you rejected without telling us, hanh? I wonder, can you count the number on one hand?" His harsh words rang in the courtyard. Everyone was stunned into silence, and Bharat immediately felt guilt run through him. Bharat had never shouted at anyone. But everyone understood why he had done so. Bharat knew the art of diplomacy and alliance. To reject a marriage proposal so clearly, as Lakshman no doubt had done, was to welcome war. Even Lakshman understood his sudden decision, but that didn't mean he wouldn't defend himself.

"WELL WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?" he thundered like the clouds in a storm. "I COULDN'T AGREE! AND IF YOU HAVE NOT NOTICED, THERE IS NO NICE WAY OF DECLINING MARRIAGE!" He clutched his head. "What was I supposed to say "Yeah sure? I'll marry you?" only to go back on my decision? Or maybe "Nah, not feeling like it today, remind me later?"" he turned towards Bharat, imploring him to understand, hands making wild movements as if he needed validation.

"Are you educated on the subject that I could have asked you, Bharat? What would you have done, Bharat, could you have helped me? In the end, it's all offensive the same to reject a marriage. I know. I have felt it. I was so surprised and shocked by the sudden proposal that I forgot, I forgot to tell you and everyone else, I didn't realize. You know diplomacy and peace is not my thing, and I am sorry for not telling this to you all. I-if we do lose a lot of people in this battle, i-it would be my fault. I admit it." His words were so laden with guilt and sorrow that for some reason, Urmila wanted to apologize, say sorry, comfort him, though she had done nothing. Bharat wanted to apologize, to say something, to remove his guilt for raising his voice for the first time. But no words would escape from his mouth, and he could only shrug sheepishly when his brother turned away, head in hands. The first time he had shouted, at anyone, it was his brother. His blameless brother.

Dasharath shook his head as Ram looked resigned. "Okay, father, we're old enough to help you this time. You are the experienced, you command our army what to do. I can be our leader, I will be in charge of defenses. Bharat can be our diplomat and he can observe everything with a sharp eye. Laksh, you are the most educated in war strategies, though we still have not figured out when you learned them. Shatrughan, you are our strategist, work with your twin." Ram looked around.

"We'll each take a tower. Thankfully, our ancestors designed the palace expecting people of different specialities. Lakshman can be South, I North, Shatrughan West, Bharat East. Each of those should suit your needs as warriors and strategists. All of us will need to work together. No information hidden. Bharat to Laksh, Laksh to Shatru, and Shatru to I. No delays, this is a war, we are working with lives." Each of the brothers nodded, and the emotional shield that seemed forever around the third prince reformed.

Dasharath marveled at the leadership of his eldest son, even in the middle of this crisis. The apple of his eye would make a marvelous ruler and king. He appreciated everyone's strengths and weaknesses, he respected his elders, he shouldered responsibility, he was peaceful and calm, and everything else an ideal king would be. He was a bringer of strength to the weak and a beacon of hope for the ones without it.

"Wait." murmured Shrutakirti as she glanced around. "Then what do we do? We have nothing to do here? Do we hide away perhaps? I want to be with Shatrughan in this time of war, I don't want to hide away!" This declaration of strength, even through her fears, her devotion to Shatrughan jumpstarted Shatrughan's at that moment stalled, loading brain, and he looked gratefully towards his wife.

"I would like to come along too!" cried Urmila. "Who knows what would happen if you were cooped up there alone, and you lost your temper! The entire plan would be ruined, would it not?" Lakshman rolled his eyes. This feeble joke led to tiny, hesitant laughter, and a lightened spirit. All four princes agreed to bring their wives with them, and each took a viewing tower; north, south, east, and west.

(Let us pretend that they have walkie talkies. Please? I know this is ancient times, but still)

"This is the Ladoo-bhejne-wala-ka-chor team. Is anyone there? I repeat, this is Ladoo-bhejne-wala-ka-chor team. Hellooo? Where is everybody?" asked Shrutakirti into her walkie talkie as she peered out the window from the West Tower. The West Tower was the best equipped with multiple tools and items to stimulate the strategic mind as well as pencils and paper to write things down.

"What kind of a name is that? Besides, do we even need code names? No one would be listening in to us!" Bharat hissed as he and Mandavi crawled into the East Tower. This tower had the most high-powered viewing scopes, crystal clear glass, and was the second-highest, best for seeing far away. "Just come up with a name!" he heard Shatrughan's exasperated voice as he must have snatched the walkie talkie away from his wife, and Bharat sighed. "Fine, Team Blue Lotus here." Mandavi smiled at him as he set down the walkie talkie. The blue lotus was her favorite flower.

"Alright, we're Team Siya-Ram." spoke Ram into the walkie talkie as Sita handed him a bow and took the walkie talkie herself. Simple and sweet. They had chosen the North Tower, which had the most collection of weapons, and was also the tallest. It usually was reserved for the king, but Raja Dasharath had given Ram it as he and his most trusted ministers sat in the main viewing tower. Somewhere inside of him, part of Dasharath didn't think it would be long before Ram really would have that tower for himself. "Where's Lakshman and Urmila?" he voiced again, and he heard some garble before another sound.

"Team Terminator." they heard simply. Ram burst into laughter at the predictable name. Lakshman and Urmila were cramped into the South Tower, which was filled with books about war strategies and multiple defensive weapons. Urmila turned towards her husband as he looked cluelessly back at her, wondering why his brother was laughing. She snatched back the walkie-talkie. "No one will be able to say that without laughing, you idiot. It describes you too well for anyone to take it seriously. How about team Phool Mari?" Another bout of laughter, before everything got serious.

The Ayodhya Army began to march out of the gates again and Ram got a flashback.

Flashback

"Father, father, look! So many men!" A four-year-old Ram toddled into the rows and rows of army men at the attention. "Are we going to war, Papa? Is that why there are so many men? Are we going to war?" Dasharath shook his head, laughing, and lifted the toddler, young Ram up on his shoulders as a few soldiers smiled.

"No, my son, the apple of my eye, thankfully, we are not. These men are training and getting ready for if they will ever go to war. Someday, you know, you will command all of them. You will lead them into war and take them out, victorious, holding your enemy's head on a spear." Ram smiled, a few teeth missing, before his face became quizzical.

"But Papa, papa, don't people die in war?" When Dasharath nodded sadly, Ram also became sad. "And they will do whatever I say when we go to war?" Dasharath nodded again. "And they are fine with dying in war if I say we fight out enemies to the death?" When Dasharath nodded again, Ram's face became proud.

"Then, Papa, I don't deserve to command them, do I? They are men who are willing to give their lives upon our most selfish, tiniest will! I don't think I have seen such selfless people anywhere." Dasharath almost fell at the sereness and wiseness with which his son said these words as he looked about.

"I'm going to be king someday, Papa, and these men will be under my command. They will go to war thinking about their families, and they might die. If they fall, I will personally make sure their family holds their heads high for the next seven of their generations!" Hearing the words of the young prince, some of the men stood taller, puffed their chests out more.

They were apprehensive at first, of course, it was the first time they had ever seen their prince, Yuvraj Ram. Now they could live in peace, knowing that whatever a scion of the Raghu clan said was law, their promises would be kept and protected with their lives. "Son of Dasharath," murmured a soldier, and Dasharath and son turned around inquisitively. "We would die to make sure you can still hold your head high when you are the King of Kosala someday. We would die to make sure your enemies are annihilated. We would die to make sure your honor is kept. Though it is our duty, your words have just made it our wish."

Present

Ram flicked a tear away as he stood near the window. Sita stood next to him. The soldiers marched out, heads high in the air. None of them had forgotten their prince's promise. He would keep it. Their families were safe. Now, if they had to, they would die for their righteous king and his family to keep the honor of the kingdom in which their ancestors, they, and their future generations would live in. That was payment enough.

"That's it." he murmured, and he crawled out of the hatch, stepping out and looking around. The hallways were empty; they must have been evacuated. He marched down towards the door of the courtyard, about to throw open the gates and lead his army into the war. He was closely followed by footsteps, and tensed, expecting an enemy, only to be met with Sita's worried face, and her understanding eyes. She took a deep breath, and simply smiled at him.

"Stay safe, Raghunandan. I will be waiting for you." Ram beamed back at her. He didn't even need to voice his thoughts for her to understand, he paced towards her, wanting to hug her, but Sita shook her head. "If you look back now, you will forever stay here. Go, arya, go and lead your army to victory." Ram nodded, sniffling, and walked away again, Sita's shining face fading away from his mind as he focused on war.

He threw open the doors, walking out and grabbing his war horse, galloping out. His appearance was met with a loud roar of victory from the soldiers. This startled the seven still remaining in the palace. "What on Earth is he doing?" hissed Bharat into the walkie talkie as he frantically swerved the viewing scope hither and dither. "He's on the battlefield!" He heard a lot of garble, mushed and muffled up sound, before a clear voice responded.

"He's going alone? He thinks he gets to run through enemy soldiers on his own, leave me out of the fun? I think not." Urmila stared as her husband grabbed a sword (or three, he worked too fast for her to catch him), before he turned towards her. "I-I, would you like to come with me?" he asked weakly, inviting her. Urmila almost agreed ecstatically for a second, before shaking her head. She didn't particularly want to be bathed in blood.

"Good luck. Kill a couple extra in my name." She waved cheerily at him, but on the inside, she felt like throwing up. This, perhaps, was the first true test of their relationship. How long could she survive, not knowing if he was alive or not? But a sudden, calm peace took over her as she smiled, grabbing Team Terminator's walkie talkie and handing it to him. He would be alive, and he would bathe the enemy in blood.

"Great. Our main strategy identifier and our main defense person is out. Guess it's just you and me, Bharat." Shatrughan muttered. He sounded nonchalant, but Shrutakirti knew the perils that ran through in his brain. She knew the guilt that would overtake him if even one of them were wounded on that battlefield, knowing that it could have been him instead, or he could have stopped them.

"Hmm, what's that?" wondered Bharat. He spoke into his walkie talkie for a second. "They're going for a block form. No strategy at all, they're just charging ahead! What do we do, Shatrughan, I mean, Team Phool Mari?" Lakshman's voice echoed. Shatrughan perked up at finally having a job to do, and looked around. Now, if they kept the archers in the front, they would be wounded. Ayodhya's combat teams weren't that great, but if his twin went first...

"First of all, it's the Ladoo-bhejne-wala-ka-chor team, but I'll forgive it this once. I want Angry Young Mirchi Plant to lead the combat team and keep the archers behind with Yuvraj Buffalo." Bharat frowned for a second, before realizing it. Lakshman was the chili pepper. Ram, pronounced differently, was buffalo. Smart, but perhaps not very efficient.

Lakshman charged forward, and Shatrughan closed his eyes. Best to miss this part, and from the squeal he could hear from the other side of the walkie talkie, Bharat did not seem to have had this momentary genius, and was privy to the bloodshed. People continued charging, and Ram sent thousands of arrows with only his two arms towards the enemy.

He rained them with arrows, piercing their arms, legs, chests, whichever part he could get really. Sita felt she could hear the screams of them, but instead of glancing away in disgust, she felt herself grow proud of her husband. Ram was invincible. No force on Earth could stop him, not the endless tides, nor the fiercest of winds, nor the tallest of mountains!

But perhaps something else could. The enemy pushed forward a cannon, humongous and lethal, to the front, and began to fill it. Bharat froze. Now who would they hit first? Perhaps the towers? Or the combatants? Or even the kingdom itself, the palace? This was not his area of expertise. Oh, how he wished Lakshman would just pick that walkie talkie up instead of gaping at the sheer size of the weapon!

Shatrughan winced. His twin drew his horse back, and Ram charged forward, standing next to him. Ram kept his bow at the ready, and Lakshman drew his bow as well, but he didn't say anything. He could spot his red read tilting slowly towards one side, before finally darting up and putting a small box to his mouth. "They'll target the archers first, they will target the archers first." Shatrughan let go of a breath, but quickly breathed in again.

The cannon was readying up again. It was ready to launch the first ball, licked with orange flames that would prove lethal to a hundred of their men. Where was their cannon? Why didn't Kosala have one? He had nothing. Nothing could possibly stop that killing machine from hitting its target. Not Ram bhaiyya's best targeted arrows. He could hear Bharat's steady breathing from the other end, and some part of him faintly wondered if this was the last time.

Surely, when the city was captured, the princes and their wives would be found. There was no way that they wouldn't, and Shatrughan and Bharat would immediately be mutilated. Killed, slowly, Mahisthami was not known for its mercy in war. But that was not what stalled him, no it was something else. Shatrughan wondered what exactly those monsters would do to his wife and sisters.

Sita bhabhi was the rightful Maharani after Ram bhaiyya was coronated, she would be the queen, and Shatrughan knew her fame for her beauty. Mandavi didi would be bold, and loud, and unwilling of course, but could not do anything about the enemy. And then his own? Shrutakirti? She barely knew how to defend herself, frail and meek! With a start, he remembered Urmila didi, bubbly and talkative and beautiful all the same, and he remembered a promise of Lakshman's.

Flashback

"If you are ever to go to war, any of you, without me. If I am to stay back in the castle, and you go to war, only you," Lakshman said, as he eyed his three brothers carefully. It was a time of great tensions between other kingdoms, after the princes had just gotten married, many humiliated kingdoms were fuming, large ones and small ones threatened to unite against Kosala. "Then it will be my first priority to protect your wives."

"People are ruthless these days. They do not respect women anymore. They violate them without thinking, and we know they would have done the same to Sita and Mandavi bhabhi, Kirti, and Urmila." Ram clenched his fists at the mere thought as Shatrughan fumed and Bharat slumped. "It's heinous. But, if you perish, which I know you won't, but if you are even delayed in coming back, your wife will be my first priority."

"I will die, but I won't let her get into their clutches. I would make sure they get away safely with my last breaths, but I will not stop living, I will not depart this Earth even if hit with the most lethal weapon, before they are safe, hidden away, in good, pure hands. And, I hope, that all of you will do that for Urmila as well." he swallowed hard, before walking away.

Present

They had promised. "Defend our honor." Shrutakirti murmured. "Find a way out." Shatrughan growled, and his mischievous mind began to work. Handing his wife the walkie talkie, he grabbed some materials and began to build. It was a bomb, a destructive one, enough to finish off the entire cannon. He had no time for anything more harmful, perhaps.

Closing a single eye, and opening the window, he threw it, and covered his ears. BOOM! He grinned as he struck gold. The cannon was reduced to mere ashes. Ram's horse startled and Lakshman's seemed to want to graze grass as if nothing happened. "Genius," murmured Bharat into his walkie talkie. "Genius." But another thing was the problem. They had picked up the bomb remnants, still explosive.

Bharat felt like screaming, and didn't realize he was wasting precious time as his eyes tracked their movements, how they studied the piece of the bomb closely. Nobody had seemed to notice this, but Bharat's quick eyes did. "SHATRUGHAN!" he cried into his walkie talkie desperately, trying to make his brother evacuate. "They are going to hit you! Get out! Get out of that tower, now!" But even as the last words slipped out of his mouth, a man threw the explosive piece towards the West Tower. Bharat could only stare in horror as it neared the tall structure.

With a loud boom, flames licked the top part of the tower part, as the structure seemed to cave into itself. Silence, infectious and emotionless, took the place of sonic explosions. Time seemed to stop. The entire battlefield was quiet, for a second. Bharat's heart stopped. "No," he whispered, shaking his head and trying to eliminate his surprisingly pessimistic thoughts. "No, no, no, no, no! Please, I beg of you God, no!"

But his mind could not deny it. Though his heart continued to deny that it ever happened, hope that perhaps he truly, by some miracle was alive, his mind began to process the situation. There was a limit to miracles, after all. Shatrughan....was dead. It hit him with a finality that only death could bring, and he cried no tears as he stared at the tower, now partially demolished. There was no way he could have survived, best case scenario, he and his wife were immediately dead by a strike to the head. The other way, being slowly crushed under rubble, Bharat didn't want to think about it.

"The youngest." he whispered, leaning back. His chest felt like it was being clawed into by a lion. "They took the youngest of us four. The most innocent." He took a deep breath. He didn't deserve this breath. "WHY?! WHY?!" he yelled. "Why wasn't it me instead? Couldn't it have been me instead?" He put his head into his hands. Images of Shatrughan flashed before his eyes. His toddling self, crawling behind him wide-eyed. His large smiles, taking over his face, contagious and good-natured. His jokes, lightening up the mood during tense times. How many times had he had to make everybody feel happy again when they were down? His teasing, always filled with truth, his love, innocent and pure, his hugs, warm, welcoming. Everything about him was so happy, so honest. And Shrutakirti, so kind, so good. He had promised to himself that if Shatrughan didn't live, he wouldn't either. And yet, traitorously, his heart continued to beat.

Mandavi cried out, reaching out towards the window as if she could capture the soul of her sister and drag it out of the tower, now crumbling slowly. Her desperate sobs filled the tense air, and alighted a rage, an unfamiliar rage in Bharat's heart. It was quickly doused as she began to murmur her sister's name. "Kirti, Kirti, come back, dear! You... so kind and truthful...the world did not deserve you, and God knew it!" she choked out. Bharat pulled her closer to his chest, and she cried into it, hiding herself from the world. Bharat's eyes ached to see Shatru's face, his marvelous twinkling eyes and reddish brown hair again. Bharat's ears ached to hear his brother's voice one last time.

"Hello? Anyone there, Team Blue Lotus?" It was unmistakably, however garbled, the sound of Shatrughan, and it seemed relieved. Bharat was never more grateful to hear any words more in his life. He grabbed the walkie talkie like a life support as Mandavi shuddered, her breaths still pained and labored.

Shatrughan blinked as rubble fell. Dust began to emanate from the ceilings, and Shrutakirti grabbed his arm. With a start, he heard a loud boom, and she clutched him even tighter, squealing in fright. Nothing happened, and with a relieved sigh, he thought that only, perhaps, the north-most part of the tower had fallen.

He was about to go to the very top viewing room, but Shrutakirti recommended that they stay in the middle, if only for her fear of heights. He looked at her disbelievingly. "You saved us!" he cried, grabbing her. "You saved our life, Kirti. I shall forever be indebted to you!" He grabbed the walkie talkie and spoke to Bharat, and he could practically hear the relief in his voice.

"Oh thank god. Let's inform Pepper Plant and Buffalo." Urmila looked up from her crying. Was that Shatrughan's voice she could hear? Urmila looked down at the walkie talkie, shaking her head and picking it up as she smiled. "No, no don't. Do not inform Pepper Plant and Buffalo. See what happens. They think Shatru is dead, don't they? Now they will unleash their real fury."

The entire family looked up as Ram was the first to react. With a loud shout, he began to furiously release arrows from his bow like they were nothing. Each one met its mark. Following their prince, the archers, who were quite fond of the youngest, also felt alighted in them a fury that caused them too, to shoot arrows, which all miraculously now met their mark. Sita took a deep breath as each one pierced a heart, praying for peace in their souls.

Whenever arrows did not kill, another thing did. Lakshman, recently run out of arrows, and now very cross, had released his last, crescent shaped arrow into the enemy's heart. Another charged towards his horse, and Bharat thought that perhaps all was lost for his second brother, when he grabbed a spear which no one realized was there and ran through another one with it in fury.

Urmila took a deep breath as the battle suddenly seemed over. Flank after flank fell, soldiers and soldiers upon each other, but Ram bhaiyya never seemed to tire. His fury fuelled him, when his mortal body could not support his emotion and anger. He never stopped until he reached the elephant of the Raja. Angrily, he drew another arrow as Raja Vanshik began to fight, or rather, his charioteer,

Across the battlefield, another war was taking place. Well, not as much as a war as cat chase mouse. Urmila's husband was kicking around the army general of Mahisthami like a soccer ball, looking utterly bored as the man crawled around. With a loud shout, Ram managed to capture the king, and Lakshman finally grabbed the body of the general.

Shatrughan breathed, finally, as Shrutakirti hugged him. It was over, the war, which he felt had only lasted for minutes, was over. The sun was setting, and it suddenly became visible to him in the west as the remaining army of Kosala cheered. They marched back as Bharat tried to calm his furiously racing heart.

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

"This feels like another time. Remember the something-something republic charging on us when we were mere teens, and without father's permission, we decided to stop them?" asked Shatrughan, making everyone else laugh. Shrutakirti checked his temperature worriedly. Throughout the entire plight, her arya had shown a responsibility that she had known was always there. She smiled as he became good-old Shatrughan again, with his obnoxious jokes and kind spirit. Nothing like that criminal mastermind who threw that bomb.

Sita had never felt so proud. It felt as if her heart was swelling, so much that it could burst. Her Ram, Ram the great, Yuvraj Ram, had led the army to victory, rejuvenating the archers of Kosala so that they may kill off the enemy! Some part of her felt sorrowful for the loss of life, but another knew that it was dharma, and the kshatriya way of life. It was necessary for the cycle of life to continue.

Ram knew it was only Sita's belief in him that had kept him going, nothing else. He couldn't have started up again without Sita's mind flashing in his face. He couldn't have alighted his fury and finished off the enemy without her prayers, trust, and faith. What had he done in his previous lives to deserve this woman? Surely something great; he did not question the wisdom of the Gods. Surely something great.

Bharat was just trying to calm down. Wow, was this day a roller coaster of emotions! He felt triumphant, rage filled, sorrowful, and ecstatic all in the means of an hour. Only earlier in this day, had he been carelessly painting? Only earlier in this day did he have no fear? What puzzled him to no end was the charging of Mahisthami. How could they do such a thing? Mandavi only smiled. Shrutakirti was alive. She was alive. Everyone else was alive. What more could she wish for in life?

All Dasharath knew that day was that he needed to crown Ram as the King soon. He had proved himself to be calm, composed, compassionate, and brave in a time of great peril towards Kosala. The soldiers were now fully and completely loyal to him, as were the citizens. There was no riper time than this to peel the mango-er, rather, crown his son!

"Come here everybody!" they heard a shout, and ram towards the sound, only to find Lakshman grasping a man's head in the dungeons. Ram rolled his eyes. In his mind, his second brother loved the interrogation part of war way too much to be possibly sane. Urmila stood off to the side, petting a snake that had lovingly curled around her arm.

"He's not Raja Vanshik of any sort! He isn't even mortal! He's a monster!" The man glared at him, before lunging forward to grab Sita in pure anger and fury. Lakshman caught him, and as all the girls turned away, Ram beheaded the man. And so, the disguise was forgotten as the powers of the monster disappeared with his life.

Curved, moon-like fangs, pale, green sickly skin. Long, brown hair, sideburns, and a perfectly immaculate mustache. It was a monster, and a cruel looking one at that. Slowly, the princes and the princesses learned the truth. Raja Vanshik was never real. He was never true. It was a monster in disguise the whole time, aiming to gain everyone's favor and then kill the kings, taking their kingdom and their wives and daughters.

Rani Roshni and Rajkumari Phool Jani were two mortal royals who had joined him in his hopes to take over the kingdoms of India. This man, rather demon, Agnihotri, was a good friend of Ravan, Raja of Lanka. Sita shuddered at the fact that she could have been married to him, and Urmila to his son. They all sat at the dinner table, silent and stunned.

Shatrughan stuffed food into his mouth as Shrutakirti calmly and patiently wiped away the excess from his mouth with a napkin. Bharat and Mandavi both blushed at the eloquent praise of Ram, who claimed that they were "The eyes of the group" and that they had "Saved them many times..." Kaikeyi smiled at this. Bharat seemed to have inherited her good saviour instincts. Sita and Ram both held onto each other like they never wanted to be separated ever again, even for the few hours it had been this time. And Lakshman and Urmila were, of course, bantering.

Kaushalya had a question, "Soumitri, may I ask you something?" she murmured thoughtfully. Said prince looked up curiously. "How did you get the man to confess that he was, indeed, a monster? You couldn't have killed him, for he was alive when we saw him." Urmila giggled when Lakshman looked sheepishly back.

"I could easily lie, and say that I didn't really know, and I just guessed from his mouth's breath. But..." he took a deep sigh. "...he actually seemed to think that his daughter was kind. That was what convinced me that he couldn't be mortal at all." The entire hall burst into laughter as Urmila secretly smiled to herself sheepishly. How could she have ever thought that he would leave her for that literal demoness?

Dasharath stared at his smiling family almost giddily. They would become even more smiling when they figured out his plans, to be executed as soon as possible!

A/N- You know how some TV shows have specials? This feels like a special to me. It was one of the longest, if not the longest chapters I have ever written for you guys, and that is the reason that I feel exhausted and will probably not be doing anything except staring at the ceiling for the next five hours. WOW. That was tough.

I wrote 5444 words. Do you know how hard that is to do? SO HARD. I really, truly contemplated dividing this up, but then I decided that you guys are really nice people, and you deserve a nice, long chapter for once instead of two parts, and so I did give you the entirety of the thing. However, do not expect great quality chapters later, because to put it lightly....I am pooped. I am fatigued, exhausted. But hey! I'm not terrible at writing battle scenes, at least. That's gotta count for something!