Raja Dasharath, king of the world, ruler of Kosala, residing in Ayodhya, responsible for the prosperity of his kingdom, father of Ram, Bharat, Lakshman, and Shatrughan, husband of Kaushalya of Kosala, Kaikeyi of Kekeya, and Sumitra of Kashi, was dead. The three queens had seen it, sitting at their husband's bedside, they had witnessed the life slowly drained out of him. And they had felt it too, as if a part of their heart was being ripped away from their breathing bodies.

Kaushalya sobbed at the side of Dasharath's arm when the medic simply shook his head solemnly. "Dasharath....Dasharath...my husband! Why were you fated so? Why were you cursed, you, one who loves your wives and sons more than anything, who would give up his life for his kingdom, who would forever uphold truth and justice in his land? Always, always, the Gods take the best people on Earth away from us! Dasharath! Come back!"

Kaikeyi was frozen as Kaushalya wailed. He had spoken again and again, feebly and quietly, of the curse. That he was cursed to die of separation from his son. Was that not what happened to him? Was she at fault for this? Hadn't she only exiled his son? Kaikeyi wiped away a tear, and took in a deep, shuddery breath. No, no she wasn't. If Bharat returned and was king, it was all worth it, all of the pain, all of the suffering, all of the loud sobs of the mourning widow that would ring in her ears and haunt her till her death, everything.

Sumitra looked up, wiping away the quiet tears that had escaped from her eyes. Her narrowed eyes studied Kaikeyi shrewdly, who squirmed under the intense gaze. Sumitra felt like screaming, smashing her hand into the mirrors which Kaikeyi stared into so aloofly. Sumitra sniffled, before blinking and turning towards the medic. "Preserve my husband's body," she murmured. "Write a letter immediately for Bharat and Shatrughan to return."

-----O-----

Shrutakirti stared bleakly as the messenger walked into their room. Over and over again, the four of them had discussed tensely to each other of the weird feelings bubbling in their stomachs. Clearing his throat, the man placed the letter on the table and left, not showing his back to the four. Mandavi looked at the rest of the family, before reaching over and unfolding the letter with trembling hands.

"Bharat, Shatrughan, Mandavi, Shrutakirti,

Return to Kosala immediately. You need to return to Kosala immediately. Do not delay. Do not worry about farewells. You need to come back. You cannot afford to waste time. Come back now."

The parchment fell from Mandavi's fingers, fluttering to the ground almost innocently. Anyone could pick it up and read it, and know only the same and nothing less from it as the four addressed in it knew. Bharat looked up sharply and his eyes widened as Shrutakirti tightened her hands on Shatrughan's arm as she swallowed. "We need to go," Bharat began tensely, looking at his wife, who had immediately gotten up and was brushing herself off. "Come on, Shatru, Kirti. We need to leave. That letter sounded tense. Something very, very bad has happened. "

Shatrughan just watched the backs of Bharat and Mandavi as they left for their room, pulling a pillow closer to his stomach and hugging it while his wife began to pack. Shatrughan swallowed, clutching the side of his abdomen, which had suddenly started to throb terribly with a dull pain. His eyes followed Shrutakirti's arms, which were trembling as she quickly stuffed all of the clothes and jewelry that she had into a small pack. He stumbled forward and hugged her tightly for a second, and breathed into her hair. A calming scent that often soothed his racing heart. For some reason, that moment, it only made it quicken.

"Shatru-What do you think has happened? What would make Rani Sumitra write so urgently, as if she could barely muster the strength to write? W-what do you think has happened? Something maybe to one of the queens? Maybe Sita didi has had a relapse of her hypothermia?" Shrutakirti breathed into his ear, dropping her jewelry, which landed on the marble floors, pearl beads rolling every which way. Neither seemed to notice as Shatrughan shook his head and tightened his grip on her shoulders as they shook slightly.

"No-No, Kirti." He hugged her again and she dropped her clothing and wrapped her arms around him as well. "Don't think like that! Don't speak like that! Look!" He pulled her back and gave her a big smile and a funny face, and she made a sound skin to a choked giggle. "Everything is alright, okay? We'll see everyone again, okay? This is probably just a prank by Lakshman, the little trickster."

-----O-----

The four rode on their chariots, each couple had one, but as they raced into the city of Ayodhya, something alarming struck at their hearts. They had not known the celebrations that had occurred during Ram's coronation, but even to them, something was off. Usually, the city of Ayodhya thrived and conquered and people bustled around in the markets, but that day, only some sat on their porches, rocking in their chairs.

Upon the sight of Bharat's chariot, some stumbled out of their houses and spat on the floors, moving their eyes away from the golden chariot and refusing to bow as they normally would have been obliged to. Bharat blinked, before putting a protective arm around Mandavi as one brandished a dagger, and narrowed his eyes at anyone that seemed to come threateningly close to the chariot, looking fierce enough to scare them off.

One villager shook his fist at the group, lip curling angrily. Another grabbed a sharp sickle and waved it around in the air. Shrutakirti squeaked, and ducked as a pebble was thrown out of nowhere and Shatrughan breathed in a sharp breath. "Move faster," he hissed to the terrified driver. "Can't you see? We're being attacked with hostility by the people! Move faster! Move faster!" The driver complied, and the horses did too, and in no time, they left the citizens of the deserted Ayodhya in dust.

Shatrughan's break only quickened as they passed the gates, and immediately, the guards went at attention and shut the doors as if they were scared someone else would follow them in. The couples got off their chariots, and Bharat looked around for his brothers and sisters. No one. An empty void where they should have been standing, but right next to them were his three mothers, wearing the white of widows.

"Maa..."Shatrughan began earnestly. "Why do you all wear such an ugly color!" he blanched and pretended to gag, but no one laughed. All Sumitra did was bound forward and hugged both Bharat and Shatrughan, sobbing heavily as Kaushalya cried into her sari and Kaikeyi continued to stand with her head up. The mothers led their sons and daughters to the throne room.

There was a long box, decorated intricately with gold and silver and jewels. Mandavi was the first to react, with a choked up gasp. "NO-" she coughed and rushed forward, followed closely by Bharat. They stopped suddenly and looked down at the box, where the aged and elderly body of Dasharath, Maharaja of Kosala, was preserved in golden oils and herbs and spices. A sob wracked Bharat's body, and he held onto his wife's arm tightly.

Shatrughan was almost too afraid to go up, but Shrutakirti inhaled deeply, and put a hand on his back. With a quick glance towards her, he felt the strength of their love rush through his body like warm water and sweet honey, and he clenched his eyes shut as he neared the casket. He did not want to see, he did not want his nightmares to be plagued with the horrors of witnessing his father's body preserved in such a manner.

He felt another rush of strength go through him, and finally, biting his lip, his eyes fluttered open. He almost fell back. He never had thought he would ever, could ever see his father in such a helpless manner. "Why?" he asked. "How? How could father die? It isn't possible! How is it possible? Where-how-why-" he could not stop his stammering as Bharat finally calmed down, wiping his tears and pulling away Mandavi gently from the pedestal. Nobody responded. "Alright, well, if you cannot tell me that," Shatrughan continued. "Tell me where Ram is. Tell me where SIta bhabhi is. At least tell me where my twin brother, Lakshman, is!" Kaikeyi looked up sharply.

"Ram was almost crowned king by Dasharath," Sumitra began, the only one of them not collapsing in tears or unwilling to speak as Kaushalya and Kaikeyi were. "He almost was. Then, it was decreed that you should be king instead, and that he should be exiled for fourteen years." Shatrughan choked, falling down on the steps as Shrutakirti slowly sunk to the ground, face in her mouth and eyes wide.

"Of course, Sita followed as the dutiful wife. She is good. Lakshman also insisted, claiming that they would be unsafe. They left for Chitrakoot just a few days ago, on Sumant's chariot. He came back empty handed." Sumitra turned towards the minister, who was sitting on his throne, head in his hands. "Dasharath-he could not stand the separation from Ram. He passed away from a broken heart yesterday."

Four dry, astounded faces responded to her proclamation. Bharat stammered, before he could finally form comprehensible words. "Why was he exiled? What did he do wrong?" He looked between his mothers. "Why should I be king when he is the rightful crown prince and should be preparing for his coronation right here? Forever a follower of dharma, that was what everyone called him. What could a righteous man as he do to be exiled from his own kingdom?"

Kaikeyi sniffled. "Nothing. He simply plotted to kill you, Bharat, and snatch the throne." Bharat looked up, eyes wide. "He planned to execute you and end your life and Gods knows what else and he had to be exiled! You are the rightful king, he promised the throne to my son! Manthara told me herself! It isn't my fault, Bharat, take your throne!" Bharat hissed angrily and balled his hands into fists at his sides.

"No wonder they were so bitter-no wonder! I can't believe it woman! He did NOTHING! Nothing! Why would you do that? WHY?! A good prince, a good son! Didn't you raise him? Didn't you pamper him and praise him? Was he a good for nothing schemer when he was merely a toddler as well? Why would a person snatch his own throne? I have no claim to that-that chair? What did you do? What did you do to manipulate that good man? That loving, good man?" he screamed.

Shatrughan snarled as he walked back into the room, dragging the old nursemaid behind him. Shrutakirti, for a fleeting second, thought he looked like Lakshman. The same angered stature, the same curl of the lips, the same fiery, narrowed eyes, amber, not black. The same curled fists and tensed muscles. But he was not Lakshman. And then he was, again, as he threw Manthara in front of him and crossed his arms again.

"I should have known," he growled. "I should have known from the very start. You were there, weren't you? Maa-Rani Kaikeyi's favorite? You slowly convinced her, you manipulated her," He paid no mind to Kaikeyi's shrieks as she was held back by a seething Bharat. "YOU are the reason that an innocent man, who would have been a great king,was exiled. YOU are the reason that a woman, pious and pure at heart, is now in the forest. YOU are the reason that my twin brother will spend fourteen years without his wife! You tore this family apart, and now I shall do the same to you!"

He raised a sword angrily from his hip, and Bharat was about to watch the murder when something nagged his mind. This was Shatrughan the childish, the innocent, the naive, but the thieving strategist, not Lakshman the bloodthirsty and cruel. They were identical in looks, not in behavior. They were identical in mother but not in actions. They were identical in origin, but not in demeanour, not in temper. This was Shatrughan, Bharat reminded himself, and Shatrughan was no Lakshman.

"STOP!" Bharat rushed forward and pulled Shatrughan away from the snivelling and sobbing wrinkled old woman before he could do anything. "Stop it Shatrughan! Stop it! What will happen, hanh, when people come to know that you have killed a woman? Killing a woman, even a scheming thing who deserved no life, is wrong! I cannot have you have that on your conscience! Don't do it!"

Shatrughan turned towards him with an inferno in his eyes, and for a moment, Bharat feared if he truly had become the true form of his twin brother in Lakshman's absence, but that fear washed away from him like chalk from a path under the monsoons when Shatrughan sniffled. "Why? No one cares? I can kill her now and be done with it. She did not seem to care about exiling a woman like Sita bhabhi into a dangerous forest, so why should I spare her life, bhaiyya? Why? Why must she continue to live?"
Bharat shook his head and pulled him into a hug as Shrutakirti simply swallowed. "Because, Shatrughan, she is evil. You are not. You are not evil enough to end a life. She does not deserve it, she does not deserve mercy, but you are good enough to give it. You are not a heartless murderer. I want to kill her. I too want to kill her. No doubt every single person in this room wants to."

Shatrughan's sword fell to the ground with a clatter, and he took in a deep breath, a deep cold breath from the air filled with guilt and sorrow, emotions that cleared his mind instead of clouding it. Bharat whirled around towards Kaikeyi, who was on the ground where he had dropped her and bound forward. "You are no longer my mother," he hissed. "The mother I knew loved Ram and his brothers and sisters more than anything. The mother I knew would have never been poisoned by a lowly nursemaid. The mother I knew would have never manipulated her husband in such a way, making him helpless and ensuring his untimely death. Raja Dasharath is dead before his fate ordained him to be. You are so cruel that you change destiny itself."

-----O-----

In no uncertain terms, Bharat blamed the second queen for his father's death, stalking away with Mandavi. "Mandavi," Bharat whispered, leaning into the wall and taking in a deep breath, "What do we do now? What can I do now?" Mandavi put a hand on his arm, taking in a deep breath and clenching her jaw.

"We go to Chitrakoot. We have to tell the boys that their father has passed. Perhaps the untimely death of the person that gave the oath will convince them to return to the kingdom." Bharat looked over, and gave her a weak smile. Mandavi always knew what to do. How? It was as if her mind worked years in advance. It was as if she was wiser than a sage who could tell the future. That marriage might have been the wisest thing he had ever done in his life.

-----O-----

"I wish I had killed her, god, I wish I had killed her while I could! Shouldn't have made such a scene of it, I should have just stabbed her where I found her! But it felt so wrong! I felt that everyone that had been wronged should see the death of the person that had wronged them. Maa Kaushalya and Maa Sumitra did not do anything against it! They didn't! They wanted to see her death! It would have been the one helpful thing I would have done in this lifetime! But no! I just had to hesitate!" Shatrughan lamented, head in his hands, as he sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders shaking.

But Shrutakirti did not agree. "No. At that moment, you looked inhumane. You looked terrible, Shatru, you have done many useful things in your life, and you will continue on to do many, many more! You have killed monsters and you have lifted firewood, and you married me, which I think was quite nice for both of us. Killing that old woman who had no means to defend herself, it would have made you akin to a rakshas, you know? It would be wrong. I wish she died too, but I don't want her blood on your hands. She shouldn't die so quickly at the hands of someone so noble. It wouldn't suit her, don't you think?"

-----O-----

Urmila bleakly strolled the halls, hands running over the sides of the walls. The return of Bharat and Shatrughan and Mandavi and Shrutakirti, it made her wounds fresh again. It made her want to dig her nails into her palms and scream into a pillow because he was gone. He was gone. It finally seemed to seem real, now that everyone had seen the body of Papa, and had reacted thus. He was really truly gone.

Nothing could bring him back. No ingenious trick devised by the strategic Shatrughan, no dearth of sweets by Maa Sumitra, no claims and promises of honey and food, no illusions of a sad and dying Ayodhya could confuse him. He was not coming back. He was not coming back. He was in the forest, sitting on a mat made of pine needles, or in the branches of a tree, or on a boulder, or building something perhaps. Was he remembering her?

Was it only days ago that they were together? Was it a year that they were together, for it seemed like much less time. How much time had passed since they left? How much? Only a few days? It felt like years. Her eye caught a fleck of something blood red on the ground, and she reached down and picked it up. A small, soft flower petal. The petal of a rose, fallen. The rose was the flower of love, wasn't it? She crushed it in her hand.

If time ticked, it would run backward. Fourteen years, how could it possibly pass? How many grey hairs would Maa Kaushalya have? Would Kaikeyi start aging? Would Maa Sumitra go mad? Would-would he change? Would something happen to him? She tried to be optimistic. Perhaps he would return having battled more monsters. Perhaps he would return with souvenirs for her. Perhaps he would come back looking different-maybe with a beard?

Optimism was as short lasting as their time together. More monsters meant more scars, more pain, more trouble. Souvenirs, who was she kidding? Where would he go other than the forest? Looking different? Certainly, he would be weak and broken down, or perhaps simply preserved, not like Dasharath was, in the oils and herbs. Preserved in memories and hearts and minds. Memories that could wisp away. Memories that could be forgotten.

Bonus Scene

"How, bhabhi?" cried Shatrughan, falling back into his bed as Urmila stared back at him. "How? Don't you want to kill that woman, that woman and all of her accomplices? She took away our crown prince and soon to be king, she took away Ram bhaiyya! She took away your dearest sister, she took away Sita bhabhi! It isn't fair. How are you so composed? How is everything so-calm in your mind?"

Bharat too looked towards Urmila, as if pleading with her to spill her secrets. Urmila took a long sniffle, crushing a pillow to her stomach. Urmila's eyes darted between the two of them, before turning back to the hands that were folded in her lap. "Before he left, he was about to kill Kaikeyi and Manthara." she rasped. Shatrughan raised an eyebrow; Ram would not want to kill anyone! "I, however much I wish to kill them, and can kill them, I would not do something that, however much I wished to, he could not."
Finally, Bharat leaned back, eyes widening per every second. Not Ram-Lakshman. He had wanted to kill Manthara, and it made more sense than anything he had ever heard. Urmila looked between them somberly. "If you don't understand, know that you are in the majority. I don't understand. I want to do something to just bring him-her-them-back! But please, don't do anything against Manthara and Kaikeyi. God knows, he would have wanted to, but instead, he's walking through a jungle."

No tears had fallen from her eyes as she spoke her words. She had cried enough after Dasharath's death to last a lifetime. Silently, Urmila got up, leaving the brothers to their peace, and walked into the arms of Sumitra, who squeezed her tightly, before letting her go, watching sadly as she walked down the hall.

A/N-Let me tell you, I did NOT like writing this chapter. I did not like writing it, I did not like reading it, but hey! Each to their own! I already warned you previously, I don't want to write about Ayodhya. What I don't want to write about, I generally do not write well about.

I did work extra hard on editing this one though, and it isn't my best, but it'll do. Also, thank you to @Apukar for the idea for the bonus scene! I actually loved writing that part! :)