Sumant suddenly stopped the chariot. It stumbled, before it ended with a halt. Ram put a hand on the ceiling, and breathed a simple sigh of relief when Sita did not fall. Sumant turned around and looked at the prince. "The citizens have decided to follow us, Rajkumar. What should we do now?" Ram looked around, blinking. The chariot ride had gotten him quite drowsy, drowsy enough that he had to rub his eyes to get his brain going again.

"Ahem-right-ah. Well..." he trailed off, and the sunset caught his eye. The yellow orb was steadily disappearing into the mountains, and Ram realized with a start that they were already many, many miles away from Ayodhya, from civilization. He also realized, with a yawn, that he had not slept last night, being too worried about Sita's well-being and his father. Ram swallowed hard and looked around.

There, the crowd was approaching. Some held walking sticks in their withered hands. Others walked with the help of their family, leaning on their husbands and brothers. Some women carried infants on their hips, and others held the hands of their young toddlers and children. Young adults carried travelling packs. But not a citizen of Ayodhya stayed behind when their prince was going into exile.

Ram looked about uncertainly. He was not about to leave Bharat a kingdom that appeared more like a ghost town. The citizens, he knew, would stay loyal to him and live on the banks of the Sarayu. But they would face hardships. Starvation. Weather such as tempests of rain without the comfort of shelter. Surely they could not build cottages for every single family here! Though he was in exile, he still cared for his people!

"Turn back, please!" Ram begged. "The forest has hardships that you won't be able to endure! Please, I encourage you to leave! Some of you have young children, infants even! You won't be able to meet their needs here in this barren and dangerous place. Turn back to Ayodhya! Comfort, safety, and warmth lies there. Do not follow me!" Everyone stared right back at him incredulously.

"No!" cried one. "Comfort, safety, and warmth we do not care about! Our kingdom is wherever you go! This forest is now our home, and will be for however long you stay here! Yuvraj, we will follow you wherever you go! Do not worry about us, our children and our infants. They will be cared for," People nodded along to this.

"Besides," another piped up. "Comfort, safety, and warmth lies wherever you go, sire. You are our beacon of hope and strength, and we have no doubt that you will continue to be so throughout our struggle and hardship in this forest. We are willing to take up anything for you! We are your subjects, and you are our rightful king! We will accept nothing else as our king, not Bharat, and not Kaikeyi as our queen!"

Ram was about to speak again, but Sita stopped him. "Raghav, don't. They won't listen," she whispered. "Let us go to sleep, for the sun has set and darkness now falls upon us. We can decide what to do later." Ram nodded along, crossing his arms and swallowing hard. Somewhere, his heart still beat guiltily for the pain his people had to go through for him, but he chose to listen to his wise wife.

"Laksh-wait. Where is he?" wondered Ram as he whirled around to speak to his brother. When he turned back, two beds of pine needles had been made on the ground as fast as lightning. Ram shook his head, and sat down. Sita did so too. Again, Ram felt a flash of guilt, and he closed his eyes tightly. "Y-you are used to silk bed sheets and plush pillows and yet you get these. Beds made of pine needles. Why did you follow me Sita?"

Sita sighed, shaking her head as he had done scarce a minute earlier. "Raghav, why do you feel such guilt? I followed you because not only is it my duty as a good wife too, but also, I love you! These beds of pine needles where I can see you are more comfortable than silk sheets where I cannot." Sita looked at him teasingly. "Besides, if you continue to ask the same thing, you imply that my father has not taught me anything, and is not a respectable man." Ram quickly shook his head and stopped speaking.

Lakshman simply sat on a boulder and watched the moon rise up into the dark sky. He wondered what the moon was made of. He wondered if Urmila was watching the moonrise too. Lakshman wondered many things, sitting on that boulder. Useless things, and important things, and things that would have made him laugh, or cry, if he did not consciously stop himself. Sumant walked forward, and sat next to him.

"You haven't made yourself a bed, putra," he observed quietly. Lakshman did not respond, only put his arms across his raised knees. "Rest, for a little while, son. Sleep, and I shall watch over. I cannot get any rest when I see the sons and daughter of my master in exile. I shall keep alert. You go to sleep." Lakshman turned towards him, eyes dry, but Sumant thought they would be watering if it were anyone else.

"I cannot. When I see my brother, grown up in riches and care and love, now sleeping on the bare ground, I cannot sleep. When I see my bhabhi, pure and pious and epitome of grace, doing the same, I feel like being sick. I am awake because of my disgust, Sumant. I cannot rest, even if Lord Shiv comes here himself and implores me to. It would be wrong, in my dharma." He turned towards the loyal minister and tilted his head. "Perhaps we can stay awake, the both of us. No law is against that, is it?"

"We do seem to have come to that," Sumant agreed. Neither of them would have spoken anymore, but Lakshman cleared his throat again. "Sumant?" asked Lakshman tentatively.

Sumant turned kindly towards the prince. "Yes, Rajkumar Lakshman? Have you changed your mind, maybe?" he inquired hopefully.

"Er-take care of Papa, okay? And Maa, all three of them." Sumant nodded, and they were silent again, but it was broken again. "Sumant?" asked Lakshman, and Sumant turned again towards the prince.

"Yes, Rajkumar Lakshman? Anything else?" he wondered, and could not stop the smile when Lakshman's voice took on a childish tone unintentionally.

"You were always good with horses. Could you take care of Mirch? He doesn't do anything without me. Show him the royal portrait of me while feeding him, and brushing him, and riding him, or else he could trample the horse holder."

Sumant nodded along agreeingly. "I will do so, Rajkumar. Whatever you wish." Silence, before this time, he spoke up. "Take care of Yuvraj Ram and Yuvrani Sita. Please. Dasharath, your Papa I mean, always trusted you with the two of them. Many of his stresses will be alleviated if you do so." A tiny nod was visible, and they went back to the comfortable silence. Nobody had to ask either of them to do as the other had asked.

Sudden Setting Change

"Ram..." moaned Dasharath restlessly, even while they were at the dining table. Kaushalya worriedly took his temperature as Sumitra squeezed his hand. Kaikeyi simply rolled her eyes. "My son...Ram...what must you be doing at this time? Are you with your wife Sita, lamenting? Are you worrying about all of us? Are you cursing your Papa in your head, wondering how he could let you go into exile so?" Sumitra quickly cut him off.

"Dasharath! Of course not! Ram always holds you in high regard! He loves you! His first words were 'Papa!'. Come on, Dasharath, eat a little bit. Don't you think Ram would cry even more if he knew that his father was not taking care of himself? Ram would feel terrible guilt, and he would not be happy! Dasharath, come on, eat something!" Sniffling, Dasharath allowed Kaushalya to feed him while his hands clenched and unclenched.

Dasharath was done. He stated frankly that he felt sick to his stomach, and Kaushalya and Sumitra lifted him up as they always did. Dasharath's every step was stumbled, and he could only swallow down all his emotions. All the stress did not do him any good. The third step in, and his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed into a heap on top of the floors. Kaikeyi shrieked.

"Medic!" sobbed Kaushalya as Sumitra fell to her knees and took his temperature. Burning hot, and suddenly freezing cold, and hot again. His heart was being pulled apart by heartbreak. The aging medic rushed in, and shook his head, motioning that they should lift up the man into the medical room, urging them quickly.

Dasharatha was moved into a plush bed, where he moaned and groaned. He waved his hands, and hallucinations of Ram's childhood flashed in his head. Kaikeyi rushed into the room, and as soon as he saw her, Dasharath was brought out of happy times and faced with the bitter reality. "No! No! He's gone!" he cried as Kaushalya sobbed into her ghunghat helplessly.

Urmila winced as she sat on the chair and rubbed her father-in-laws hands. "Gone, gone..." he moaned, his eyes barely able to make out the figure of his daughter-in-law. "Urmila, they're gone. Your sister, your brother, your husband. Gone...." Dasharath sniffled. "Ram always said that he could feel my emotions wherever he was, that if I talked to him even a thousand miles away, he could hear me. Ram...Ram...come back!"

Sudden Setting Change

Ram woke up with a start, sweat covering his body. Was that a dream, the hopeful and sorrow-filled moans he heard of his father? A nightmare? Ram sat up on his bed, and patted Sita awake. "Sita, Sita," he hissed. His wife turned her head to look at him drowsily. "It's time. We need to leave, alright?" Sita nodded, and they got up, brushing the pine needles off.

Lakshman had already walked forward, and the brothers shared a reassuring glance, before Ram walked up to Sumant, who had gotten off the boulder. "It's time for us to leave, alright?" Sumant nodded. "Okay, Sumant. Drive back to Ayodhya. That way, they will think that we have gone back." Ram swallowed, hard, nodding, and patting the hands of the courtier, whose eyes were filled with tears aplenty. "Take care." He nodded again, and with another shared glance, the three walked along the banks of the river.

Ram's mind was conflicted. It was filled with thoughts, as he turned his head around to stare at the departing horseman. Sumant was a reflection of all the citizens of Ayodhya. So loyal, so kind. He looked upon his subjects one last time, the old and the young, the mothers and the fathers with a sad, apologetic smile. "Till next time," he murmured, waving though he knew that they were fast asleep, and with a deep breath, they walked.

With a grunt, the two brothers lugged a long boat out of the woods where they had kept it. Sita could only stare wonderingly as Lakshman wordlessly brought a pair of oars out of the compartment, and Ram smiled at her aghast state. "We made this as a project when we went to Gurukul, you know? So we could graduate, and then we kept it on the banks of the Sarayu in case we ever needed it." He patted the helm sadly. "I never thought that we would need it in a case like this."

Sita walked forward and hugged his arm, which he put around her shoulders comfortingly as the boat was pulled on the water and steadied. Ram climbed on, then helping Sita on as Lakshman stared at the pair of oars with a sigh, shaking his head and putting them into the cold water on the windless, breezeless night. With a creaky wooden groan, the boat began to slowly move across the wide river.

Sita thought that this was more of a romantic boat ride than a transport to an entire new chapter of her life. The full moon rose up into the sky, lighting up the river with rippling reflections of the light, and the boat went along with a steady, hypnotizing rocking. She swallowed hard, clasping her hands together before Ram took one and smiled at her reassuringly.

There, on the cool waters of the Sarayu, on a boat built ages ago, stood three people. One, a king with no subjects, a prince with no palace, a man in exile who had done no wrong. Another, a woman pious above all, a princess of the people, the wife of a servant. The last, a man with a wife, but without one, with a mother, but without one, following his dharma without the wish of anything else, yet wishing that he didn't have to.

A boat built ages ago, where innocence prevailed above all else, being rowed across a river which overlooked the forest of enchantments, carried these three people to a chapter of their lives which had never been conceived to be possible. Under the guidance of instinct, the light of the moon, the will of a queen, the lament of a king, the guise of mortals, and an exile undeserved, these three people would triumph over the hardships of nature. They would enter with hopes high and spirit low, and in the endless pursuit of knowledge, only two would go.

A/N-Woah! Those last two paragraphs though. Just *chef's kiss* amazing! Maybe. Or maybe not, depends on your reading style. Yes, this one was short, but I warned you. This era will have short chapters, relatively. But happy ones, this era will be filled with fluff, and sweet moments, and then some kind of sad moments (in the case of Urmila).

I would still like to acknowledge that it was 2000+ words, which is better than my Gurukul and Balkand eras, so you will still be able to deal with it! The first chapter of the Pre-Ravan Vanvass Era has been created! Yay! My....6th era! Wow, that's an accomplishment right there.

I think that my writing style has heavily improved over time. I'm looking over my old chapters...and wow. That's definitely not as good as I remember it being. Actually, I think that I am improving because of many other authors here. You guys are defying the very laws of amazement in writing.

I was sort of reluctant to write this one. I didn't want to, actually. Instead, I tried to write multiple one shots for my other book, but then I decided against it, and all of those were scrapped. Finally, I started this one, and it was actually kind of calming to write. A break from all the emotions we've been experiencing. In this era, I'm going to try to include less Lakshman/Lakshmila/Urmila and more SiRA, because later, there will be hardly any SiRA. Also, later, it will be hard to include less Lakshman.

You know, I think, that I'm going to host a Ramayan+Mahabharat awards ceremony! Everyone that enters gets an award! Not me, of course. But other people! Best Romance! Best Emotions! Best Action! Best Protagonist! Best Award Show Host! Okay, maybe not that But hey! I might actually do it! I have finally figured out the ins and outs of graphic design, and I could make stickers and what not as prizes, and everybody wins! That sounds great! Plus, a free review from me and the other judges, if they enter, of course!

I can judge all the Ramayan ones, and they can judge the Mahabharat ones, and then...so many possibilities! And if no one wants to judge, I can judge them all! ALL! For each award, there will be two winners, one for Ramayan and one for Mahabharat! Like Romance for Ramayan, and Romance for Mahabharat. And that stuff. Does anyone want to participate? I think that I can actually do it! It would be fun, no? It would be nice to give out prizes and reviews and awards! Make you feel all sunshine and happy, no? Do any of you want to enter? Then I might actually start it! I think that it should be quite exciting! Plus a nice way to get some writers some recognition. And for me to exercise my newly found graphic design skills (well, not as much skills as sudden popping up technique and interest).