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Chapter Text

The forest held its breath, the moonlight threading through the canopy like spindly fingers of an unseen hand.

A rustle disturbed the stillness—soft, deliberate, almost too quiet to notice. But there he was, Raavan, a colossus cloaked in the shadows, his golden eyes glinting like embers in the dark. His lips curled into a smirk, sharp as the edge of a blade, as he watched the modest dwelling ahead.

Ram and Lakshman sat outside, alert and ever watchful.

"How quaint," he mused internally, his head tilting ever so slightly.

Ram, Lakshman, and Sita remained blissfully unaware of the predator crouching just beyond their sanctuary.

But Raavan had come prepared.

A distraction.

A powerful demon—one of his most cunning and deceptive minions—had already taken its place deeper in the jungle, waiting for the perfect moment.

"Divide them, and they will fall," he thought, his smile widening into something almost feral.

And then—

A thunderous roar echoed through the trees.

The ground shook, birds scattered, and the air filled with the chilling, guttural snarls of a beast.

Raavan didn’t flinch.

Instead, he straightened slightly, his predatory smirk faltering for just a heartbeat before returning, sharper than ever.

"Perfect," he muttered under his breath, the word laced with dark humor. The distraction had arrived, right on schedule.

As expected, Ram was the first to rise.

His eyes sharpened with determination, his hand already reaching for his bow.

"Stay with Sita," Ram commanded. "I’ll handle this."

Raavan leaned forward, eager to see the moment when Lakshman would insist on going too.

Any second now, the hotheaded prince would grab his weapons and—

…Nothing.

Lakshman only pouted. Crossed his arms. Scowled.

"But Bhaiya—!"

Ram gave him a look.

"Stay."

Lakshman sighed dramatically but didn’t argue further.

Raavan’s smirk faltered.

What?

No rebellion? No fiery tantrum? No reckless charge into battle?

Raavan’s fingers curled into fists.

How? How had Ram tamed him so completely?

With one last glance at his brother, Ram disappeared into the trees.

Lakshman huffed, shifting his grip on his bow as he watched the forest warily.

Raavan licked his lips.

Sita is unguarded.

True to expectation, the moment Ram was gone, Sita stepped inside the hut.

Now, only Lakshman remained outside.

Alone.

Isolated.

Perfect.

Raavan's cruel smile deepened as he stepped silently out of the shadows.

How hard could it be to take her under Lakshman’s nose?

The boy was brave, yes. Fierce, even.

But against Raavan's mighty presence?

He would cower.

And once he did, Sita would be his.

Chapter Text

Raavan stepped forward, his towering form emerging from the shadows like a nightmare given flesh.

His golden eyes gleamed with amusement, but beneath the smirk was a flicker of frustration.

"This is your mighty protection, is it?" he sneered, arms folding over his broad chest. "One boy left behind to guard a queen?"

Lakshman stiffened. His grip on his bow tightened.

He was alone.

But fear?

Never.

"Turn back, Raavan," Lakshman warned, his voice steady. "Or I will make you regret stepping foot here."

Raavan chuckled. A deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air like distant thunder.

"You? Make me regret?" he mocked. "Brave words from a child who clings to his brother's orders."

Lakshman’s jaw clenched.

"I need no orders to deal with the likes of you," he snapped, his voice sharp as his arrowhead. "You will not lay a single finger on Sita."

Raavan sighed, feigning disappointment.

"I had hoped for more sense from you, prince."

With a flick of his hand, a gust of dark energy surged forward, crashing towards Lakshman like a violent storm.

But Lakshman did not flinch.

He moved with the precision of a warrior, leaping back and swiftly knocking an arrow onto his bow.

With a single fluid motion—he fired.

The arrow sliced through the air like lightning, aiming straight for Raavan’s chest.

Raavan barely dodged, his smirk twisting into a snarl.

The boy was faster than he anticipated.

Stronger, too.

Perhaps—just perhaps—Lakshman was not so easily swayed after all.

Lakshman stood firm, eyes blazing with determination.

"Try again, Demon King," he challenged. "I am not so easily moved."

Raavan gritted his teeth in frustration.

For a mere prince, this boy was far too strong.

Lakshman moved like a storm, his arrows flying with precision and speed that forced Raavan to stay on the defensive. Every time he lunged forward, Lakshman dodged, countered, or struck back with unrelenting ferocity.

With every clang of steel and every whoosh of arrows, Raavan’s irritation grew.

“This is absurd,” Raavan snarled as he deflected yet another attack.

Lakshman only smirked.

“What’s wrong, ten-heads?” he taunted, nocking another arrow. “Not as easy as you thought, huh?”

Raavan’s eye twitched.

With a snarl, he swung his sword with all his might, knocking Lakshman’s bow clean out of his hands.

Lakshman’s eyes widened as his weapon went flying.

Raavan wasted no time.

Before Lakshman could retrieve his bow, Raavan lunged, his sword slashing forward.

Lakshman barely dodged in time, the sharp edge slicing his arm.

He hissed at the sting, but Raavan was already upon him.

The demon king’s massive hand clamped around Lakshman’s wrist, yanking him forward with brute strength.

Lakshman struggled furiously, his body twisting, but Raavan’s grip was ironclad.

“You fight well, cub,” Raavan growled, yanking Lakshman closer, his massive frame dwarfing the prince. “But you are still just a—”

“ARGH!!”

Raavan roared in pain.

Lakshman had sunk his teeth into the demon king’s wrist like a wild animal.

Raavan staggered, his grip loosening.

Lakshman bit down harder.

Raavan howled, his twenty eyes blazing with fury. “You little—!!”

With a mighty kick, Lakshman freed himself, leaping back and wiping his mouth.

He smirked. “Hah. Not so fun when someone fights back, is it?”

Raavan glared, his wrist bleeding from where Lakshman had bitten him.

“This… this brat just BIT me,” Raavan muttered in disbelief.

Lakshman grinned, rolling his shoulders. “Oh, I can do worse.”

Raavan growled.

This was no ordinary boy.

This prince was trouble.

Chapter Text

Raavan grunted as Lakshman twisted, kicked, and fought with all his might.

For a mere prince, he was fierce—far stronger than Raavan had anticipated.

Every time the demon king tightened his grip, Lakshman bucked and lashed out, his body moving with the precision of a seasoned warrior.

Raavan barely dodged a well-aimed elbow to the face.

“Stubborn little brat!” he snarled, wrestling Lakshman into submission.

Lakshman growled, his arms straining against Raavan’s hold. “Let me go, you oversized rakshas!”

Raavan gritted his teeth.

With one final surge of strength, he swept Lakshman’s legs out from under him and slammed him face-first onto the ground.

Lakshman gasped, the wind knocked out of him.

Before he could move, thick ropes suddenly bound his wrists behind his back.

Raavan smirked as he tied the last knot, securing the boy completely.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneered.

Lakshman, panting, looked up with defiance burning in his eyes. “Untie me and say that again, you coward.”

Raavan chuckled darkly. “Oh, I like your fire, little prince. But you should know when you’re beaten.”

Lakshman opened his mouth for another sharp retort—

But then Raavan’s eyes flickered towards the hut.

His smirk vanished.

A sacred circle glowed faintly around the dwelling, its divine power crackling in the air.

Raavan’s hands clenched into fists.

That brat!

Even while fighting for his life, Lakshman had managed to draw a protective barrier around the hut.

With himself as the bait.

Raavan’s face twisted in rage.

“You—!”

Lakshman, despite his predicament, grinned smugly.

“Oops,” he said mockingly. “Looks like you can’t touch the hut. What a shame.”

Raavan’s eye twitched.

His entire plan—to take Sita while the brothers were distracted—was ruined.

Because of this boy.

Raavan exhaled sharply. Then, suddenly—

He smirked.

Lakshman’s grin faltered.

“…What?”

“You are right,” Raavan said smoothly, cracking his knuckles. “I cannot take the woman.”

Lakshman narrowed his eyes.

“But,” Raavan continued, his smirk widening, “I can take you.”

Before Lakshman could react, Raavan hauled him up, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

Lakshman yelped. “Hey—!!”

“Struggle all you want, cub,” Raavan chuckled, adjusting his grip. “You’re coming with me.”

Lakshman kicked his legs furiously. “Put me down, you oversized, arrogant—!!”

Raavan ignored him and strode into the jungle, Lakshman thrashing wildly over his shoulder.

This wasn’t his original plan.

But perhaps…

Stealing Ram’s baby brother would wound him just as deeply.

Chapter Text

Lakshman thrashed wildly as Raavan tossed him into the chariot, the golden wheels lifting off the ground with a rush of wind.

The ropes cut into his wrists as he struggled, but Raavan’s hold was like a vice, pressing the boy firmly against his armored chest.

"Feisty little cub, aren’t you?" Raavan sneered, tightening his grip as Lakshman twisted against him. "You fight so much, yet it changes nothing. You belong to me now."

Lakshman gritted his teeth, his breath ragged. He could feel the chariot lifting higher, soaring over the thick jungles below, the treetops a blur beneath them.

He craned his neck toward the ground, desperation clawing at his chest.

"RAAAM BHAIYAA!!" Lakshman’s voice rang through the sky.

Raavan laughed, deep and cruel, his eyes gleaming in amusement. "Scream all you want, little prince. No one can hear you now."

Lakshman twisted, his heart pounding as he frantically tried to loosen the ropes. He had to escape. He had to get back!

He thrashed with renewed desperation, his bound legs kicking at Raavan’s chest.

“Bhaiyaaa!!”

Lakshman screamed, his voice breaking with panic.

Raavan only laughed, his grip like iron.

Lakshman gritted his teeth, his breath hitching in rage.

“I swear, you monster—you’ll regret this!”

Raavan’s mocking laughter was drowned out by a sudden fierce cry.

But then—a shadow.

A piercing cry sliced through the air again.

"Lakshman, hold on!"

Lakshman’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened.

“JATAYU!!”.

The mighty vulture dove from the sky, his vast wings cutting through the wind with powerful beats.

His talons gleamed, his beak sharp as he let out another deafening screech.

"Jatayu, no!!" Lakshman screamed. His heart clenched in fear. "Run! Please!"

But Jatayu would not run.

He soared toward the chariot with fierce determination, his eyes burning with fury.

“Fear not, my cub! I am here!”

Raavan smirked, watching the old bird approach. "Ah, another foolish creature throwing away his life for Ram’s little pet."

Lakshman struggled harder, his throat tight with dread. "Jatayu, please! Get Ram Bhaiya! Don't fight him!"

Jatayu did not listen.

With a final, powerful stroke of his wings, he crashed into the chariot, his talons tearing into the golden frame. The entire chariot trembled as Jatayu struck again, snapping at Raavan with his razor-sharp beak.

"LET THE BOY GO!" Jatayu roared.

Raavan growled, dodging the furious attacks, his grip on Lakshman tightening. "You dare challenge me, old bird?"

Jatayu struck again, claws slashing toward Raavan’s arm. The Demon King barely dodged, his golden bracelets clinking.

Raavan cursed, his grip on Lakshman momentarily loosening.

Lakshman tried to take the chance, desperately wiggling out of the demon’s hold.

But Raavan snarled, tightening his grip once more.

“Persistent old bird!” Raavan bellowed. “You wish to die today? So be it!”

Lakshman froze in horror as Raavan drew his sword.

“NO—!!”

The blade flashed.

Jatayu let out a piercing cry.

Lakshman watched in pure agony as the vulture king shuddered, blood spilling from his chest.

“NO!!” Lakshman sobbed, his entire body trembling.

Jatayu’s massive wings faltered, his body tilting mid-air.

He looked at Lakshman one last time.

“Be strong, my cub…”

And then, he fell.

“JATAYU!!”

Lakshman screamed, his voice raw, watching helplessly as Jatayu crashed into the jungle below, his great form swallowed by the trees.

The world blurred with tears.

Raavan threw his head back and laughed.

Lakshman sagged against him, trembling violently, his breath coming in broken sobs.

Raavan gripped his face cruelly, forcing Lakshman’s tear-streaked eyes up to meet his.

“That’s right,” Raavan purred, his smirk widening.

“Cry for him.”

Lakshman let out a shaking breath, his whole body wracked with grief.

Raavan tilted his head. “Come now, where’s that fire? That fight?”

He chuckled darkly, thumbing away a stray tear on Lakshman’s cheek.

“This is far more satisfying than taking that woman,” he mused, brushing his thumb over Lakshman’s trembling jaw, delighting in the boy’s misery. “I never imagined the great Lakshman would break so easily.”

Lakshman’s body tensed.

His nails dug into his palms, his grief bubbling into rage.

He looked up, his eyes burning through his tears.

“…I’m going to kill you.”

Raavan’s smirk faltered—just for a moment.

Then, he laughed again, shaking his head.

“I’d love to see you try, cub.”

And with that, the chariot soared further into the sky, leaving behind Jatayu’s lifeless body and the jungle below.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Lakshman lay pinned beneath Raavan’s crushing boot, the cold floor of the flying chariot digging into his ribs with every shuddering breath.

His wrists were raw from the binds that dug deep into his skin, and his tear-streaked face burned with a mixture of grief, rage, and humiliation.

The image of Jatayu’s fall burned vividly behind his eyes—an ache so deep it clawed through every part of him. The noble bird’s sacrifice had been for nothing.

"You’ll pay for this," Lakshman hissed through gritted teeth, though his voice cracked under the weight of fresh sorrow.

Raavan’s dark laughter curled through the air like smoke, low and pleased. "Such fire," he mused, his tone like silk over iron. "Even after all this, you have the spirit to defy me?"

His foot pressed harder into Lakshman’s back, forcing a strangled gasp from the younger warrior’s lips.

The Demon King’s eyes glinted dangerously as they roamed over Lakshman’s form—every shiver, every defiant clench of his jaw only seemed to amuse him more. "You’re far more beautiful in your suffering than I expected," Raavan murmured, voice thick with carnal curiosity. "No wonder your brother treasures you so dearly."

Lakshman’s body went rigid, hatred burning through the raw pain. "You’re a coward," he spat. "You couldn’t face my brother, so you stole me instead."

Raavan chuckled, steering the chariot through the sky with one hand while the other lazily traced the hilt of his blade.

"Stole?" His voice dripped with mockery. "No, little cub... I claimed you. And soon enough, you’ll learn that every tear, every shudder, makes your worth all the sweeter."

Lakshman bit down on the sob clawing at his throat, his vision blurred with unshed tears. His body ached under Raavan’s crushing weight, but his spirit—though fractured—remained unbroken.

"Don’t..." His voice was low, strained with fury and grief. "Don’t call me that."

Raavan’s dark eyes flickered with amusement. "Cub?" he drawled, his lips curling into a sharp, predatory grin. "Why not? You whimper like one. You even cry for your precious Jatayu like a lost little thing."

The mention of Jatayu sent another pang of agony through Lakshman’s heart. His breath hitched, and his lips trembled despite every ounce of willpower screaming at him to stay composed. "Only Jatayu gets to call me that," he snarled, forcing each word past the lump in his throat. "You’re not worthy of his shadow."

Raavan’s chuckle rumbled through the air like distant thunder—cold, merciless, and full of cruel delight. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Lakshman’s ear. "Oh, how touching," he whispered mockingly. "The little cub mourning his fallen guardian. I wonder, does your grief make you feel stronger? Or weaker?"

Lakshman’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, but the tremble in his lip betrayed him—a flicker of vulnerability Raavan seized upon like a vulture. "Look at you," Raavan continued, his voice slick with venom. "Tears streaking down that brave little face. So much pride, so much fire… wasted on the floor like a child who’s lost his way."

"I’m not weak," Lakshman ground out, though his voice wavered. "I won’t break for you."

Raavan’s grin sharpened. "You already have, little cub. Every tear you shed is a victory for me. And the more you resist, the more delightful your surrender will be."

Lakshman’s breath came in shallow gasps, but still, he glared up at his captor with fierce, unyielding eyes. "My brother will end you," he whispered, voice low and dangerous. "And when he does, not even your demons will remember your name."

Raavan laughed—a deep, resonating sound of pure arrogance. "Let him come," he sneered, pressing his foot down harder, forcing Lakshman’s body into the cold, unfeeling floor of the chariot. "The longer he takes, the more time I have to enjoy breaking his precious cub."

The sky stretched endlessly around them, but Lakshman’s resolve burned brighter than any star—because even in chains, his loyalty to Ram remained unbroken.

Chapter Text

The forest was eerily silent, save for the desperate voices of Ram and Sita echoing through the trees.

Ram and Sita moved swiftly through the dense undergrowth, their voices echoing through the vast emptiness of the forest.

"Lakshman!" Ram’s voice was hoarse from shouting, dread clawing at his chest with every passing moment. "Lakshman, where are you?"

His heart pounded painfully in his chest as his eyes darted through the thick undergrowth. The camp had shown clear signs of struggle—his little brother had fought. But where was he now?

Sita followed close behind, her heart pounding, every crack of a branch beneath their feet feeding her fear. "He wouldn’t just leave," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. "He wouldn’t—unless..."

Ram shook his head, refusing to let her finish. "No," he growled. "My brother is strong. If something has happened to him, I will find him. I swear it."

As they pressed on deeper into the jungle, the once-familiar sounds of the forest fell eerily silent. The wind carried with it a heavy, unnatural stillness—until they stumbled upon a horrifying sight.

There, crumpled beneath the shade of an ancient tree, lay Jatayu. His once-majestic wings were torn and bloodied, his mighty form broken and fragile. His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

"Jatayu!" Ram dropped to his knees beside the fallen guardian, gently cradling his massive head. "No, no, you can’t—stay with me, please!"

Sita knelt beside them, her hands shaking as she tried to soothe the dying bird. Tears streamed freely down her face. "Who did this to you?!"

Jatayu’s eyes fluttered open, their light dim but determined. His beak trembled as he struggled to speak. "R-Raavan..." His voice was broken, barely a whisper. "He… took… the cub…"

Sita let out a strangled cry, pressing her hands to her mouth in horror.

Ram’s entire body went still, the weight of those words hitting him like a blade to the heart. "No," he breathed. "Lakshman… My brother—" His voice cracked, the pain nearly too much to bear.

"I tried..." Jatayu rasped, blood staining his feathers. "Fought… to save him… but… he’s strong… too strong..."

Ram felt his heart shatter at the sight of his father’s dear friend, a noble warrior who had given his all to protect his family. He gently cradled Jatayu’s head in his hands. " You fought bravely, my friend, " he said, his voice thick with emotion. " You gave everything to protect my brother. "

Jatayu let out a faint, pained chuckle. " He fought… too… " His voice was fading, but there was something proud in it. " Your little cub… is strong… "

Sita’s sob escaped her lips as she gently placed her hand on Jatayu’s brow. "You did everything you could. Please, hold on—"

But Jatayu’s time was slipping away. His gaze met Ram’s one last time, filled with sorrow and a lingering sense of duty. "Save… him… Save… your cub…"

With those final words, his eyes closed, and his body went still. The jungle was silent again, save for the agonizing sound of Ram’s grief.

Ram bowed his head, pressing his forehead against Jatayu’s still form. "You were like a father to him," he whispered. "And you gave your life to protect him. I swear, Jatayu, on your sacrifice… I will bring Lakshman back."

Sita’s hand found his, squeezing it tightly. "We’ll find him," she whispered through her tears. "We’ll bring him home."

Ram’s sorrow turned to fury, his jaw tightening with resolve. "Raavan will pay," he vowed, his voice low and dangerous. "He will learn what happens when he dares to touch my family."

And with Jatayu’s lifeless body before them, Ram and Sita rose—ready to face the storm that lay ahead.

Chapter Text

The golden flames crackled and danced against the darkening sky, their glow illuminating the grief-stricken faces of Ram and Sita. The scent of sandalwood mixed with the acrid smoke as the fire consumed the earthly remains of Jatayu, the noble warrior who had fought till his last breath.

Ram stood still, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face a mask of sorrow. His chest ached, the weight of loss pressing down on him.

Beside him, Sita wept quietly, her tears streaking down her cheeks as she clutched her shawl.

They had gathered fragrant flowers and placed them gently around Jatayu’s body before setting the pyre alight, whispering their final prayers of gratitude and farewell.

But no prayer could ease the unbearable emptiness in Ram’s heart.

"You deserved better," Ram whispered, his voice raw with anguish. "You deserved to see him laugh again, to tease him one more time like you always did…" His voice cracked, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.

Sita sniffled. “He was always with us,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “He was Lakshman’s constant companion… his protector. Oh, how he adored Lakshman—always calling him cub and teasing him.”

A wobbly smile flickered on Ram’s lips, only to fade as his throat constricted with emotion. “Yes… my little brother used to grumble and whine about it, but he loved it,” Ram said, his voice shaking. “Jatayu would guide him, scold him, protect him.” His voice broke on the last word.

His baby brother…

Lakshman was gone.

Taken.

And he wasn’t there to stop it.

Ram fell to his knees before the fire, his head bowing, his shoulders trembling. " I should have been here! " he choked out. " I should have fought Raavan myself! " His fingers dug into the dirt. 

Sita knelt beside him, placing a trembling hand on his back, her own tears falling freely. “Lakshman is strong, Ram,” she whispered. “He is your brother. He will endure.”

Ram’s hands curled into fists. His body shook as wave after wave of agony crashed over him.

His Lakshman… the baby brother who had followed him into exile with unwavering devotion… the little boy who had built their home in the forest, who had worked tirelessly with his own hands, who had grumbled but obeyed, who had always looked up to him with those bright, trusting eyes—

Now he was in Raavan’s clutches.

And Ram had never felt so lost .

"I should’ve- ," he choked out. "I should’ve protected them both. My brother… my baby brother… What must he be going through right now?"

Sita wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "This isn’t your fault, Ram. You couldn’t have known—"

"But I should’ve known!" Ram’s voice was raw with pain. "Lakshman trusted me to keep him safe. I promised him I’d always be there. And now… Raavan has him. Gods know what torment he’s enduring."

The fire crackled louder, as if echoing his anguish. "He must be so scared…" Ram’s voice dropped to a broken whisper, his tears falling faster now. "I can’t even imagine his pain—how alone he must feel."

Sita’s own tears fell as she held him tighter. "We’ll find him," she whispered fiercely. "We will bring him back. Lakshman is strong—he’s our little lion. And you’re his reason to stay brave, Ram."

For a moment, all they could do was grieve together by Jatayu’s side, surrounded by memories of laughter now replaced by silence and smoke.

The fire crackled, consuming the last remnants of Jatayu’s mortal form. The great bird had given his life trying to save Lakshman.

Ram inhaled sharply, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He lifted his gaze to the flames, his sorrow slowly hardening into something else.

Resolve.

" Jatayu, you gave your life protecting my brother. I will not let it be in vain. "

His eyes burned with new determination. " I will find him. I will bring him back. And I swear upon your sacrifice, Raavan will suffer for what he has done.*"

Sita clasped Ram’s hand tightly, drawing strength from his words.

The night was silent as they watched the flames consume Jatayu’s body, sending his noble soul to the heavens.

But in the depths of that silence, there was an unspoken promise.

Ram was coming.

And Raavan would regret ever laying a hand on his brother.

Chapter Text

The shadows of Lanka’s grand court stretched long and ominous across the black marble floor as Raavan dragged Lakshman inside, his bound wrists scraped raw from the coarse ropes.

The clang of heavy doors echoed like a death knell, and every eye in the room turned toward the captive prince—a living trophy of Raavan’s ruthless triumph.

With a cruel flick of his wrist, Raavan threw Lakshman down before the throne like a discarded prize. The younger prince hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his chest, but he refused to let out so much as a whimper.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up onto his knees, lifting his chin with that same unbreakable defiance that had burned in his eyes since the moment Raavan first laid hands on him.

"Welcome to Lanka, cub," Raavan’s voice was low, dark amusement curling around every syllable as he settled onto his massive obsidian throne. "You fought well for such a fragile thing. But here…" He leaned forward, resting an elbow on the armrest. "You’ll find bravery counts for nothing."

Lakshman’s lips curved into a sneer, even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "I’d rather die on my knees than serve you on my feet."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the court. Raavan’s sons, brothers, and ministers lined the hall, their predatory gazes fixated on the defiant prince—some with amusement, others with cruel hunger. Lakshman could feel their eyes crawling over him, assessing his every feature: the tight cords of muscle beneath his torn tunic, the stubborn set of his jaw, the fire in his storm-bright eyes.

He felt their desire to break him, to see the proud warrior reduced to ash. Yet, he held still, swallowing his fear and letting the weight of their stares slide off him like water on stone.

But there was one gaze different from the rest—Indrajit.

The crown prince of Lanka, draped in armor of black and gold, remained silent as the others whispered and laughed. His sharp, calculating eyes weren’t filled with scorn or amusement. No—Indrajit was studying him.

Lakshman’s disheveled beauty was impossible to ignore: the sharp lines of his cheekbones streaked with dirt and blood, the glistening sweat on his brow, and the way his lips trembled—not from fear, but sheer exhaustion. His defiance was carved into every inch of his body.

What would it take to break him? Indrajit wondered, not with cruelty, but with fascination.

Was there something deeper beneath that stubborn fire? Would fear do it? Pain? Or perhaps… something far more subtle?

"Enough staring," Raavan’s voice cut through the room like a blade. His dark eyes bore into Lakshman’s very soul. "You’ll learn your place soon enough."

Lakshman raised his chin higher, ignoring the pounding of his heart. "I am Lakshman of Ayodhya," he declared, voice steady despite his exhaustion. "Brother to Ram. Son of Dasharatha. I will never bow to you, no matter what you do."

Raavan’s slow, dark smile spread wider. "We’ll see how long your defiance lasts, little prince."

As Lakshman’s eyes locked onto Raavan’s in burning defiance, he failed to notice the flicker of curiosity deepening in Indrajit’s gaze. There was no satisfaction in imagining the boy’s spirit broken—but an undeniable hunger to see what secrets lay beneath that unshakable resolve.

Chapter Text

Lakshman remained on his knees, spine straight and gaze locked onto Raavan, refusing to let the exhaustion, fear, or pain drag him down. 

Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but the fire in his heart burned hotter than ever. He wouldn’t give this demon the satisfaction of seeing him break.

"Still pretending to be strong, are we?" Raavan’s voice slithered through the heavy silence, rich with mockery and dark amusement. 

His laughter rumbled through the grand court like distant thunder, cold and cruel. "You’re persistent, little cub. But persistence means nothing when you’re powerless."

A low growl escaped Lakshman’s throat, animalistic and sharp, like a cornered wolf refusing to die quietly. 

The court fell into an eerie hush, surprised by the raw defiance that still pulsed through the battered prince’s veins.

Among the silent spectators, Indrajit leaned forward slightly, his curiosity sharpening into something far more intense. 

His eyes scanned Lakshman’s body—bruises bloomed across his skin like cruel violets, and yet, there was Raavan himself, bearing fresh wounds. 

Scratches raked across the Demon King’s arms, a small gash along his jaw still drying into a dark smear.

This so-called ‘cub’ had made his father bleed.

"A cute cub," Raavan mocked, stepping down from his throne with slow, deliberate steps, like a predator circling wounded prey. 

His dark gaze burned with satisfaction as Lakshman’s growl faded, replaced by ragged breaths. "But no matter how much you snarl and bite, a cub is still fragile in the end."

Lakshman said nothing, his jaw clenched tight enough to hurt, but his trembling lips betrayed the effort it took to hold himself together. His pride was his last weapon, and he refused to let it be stripped away.

The room seemed to shrink as Raavan knelt before him, his massive hand reaching out to seize Lakshman’s chin between iron fingers. 

Lakshman flinched, his eyes blazing with hatred—but Raavan only smirked wider, tilting the prince’s face up to study him like one might admire a rare, untamed creature.

"Such fire in those eyes," Raavan murmured low, his thumb brushing away a smear of blood on Lakshman’s cheek with mock tenderness. "Ayodhya truly breeds beautiful little warriors."

With a cruel twist of his hand, Raavan reached for Lakshman’s topknot, fingers threading through the dark silk of his hair. 

With one deliberate motion, he yanked the knot loose, letting the strands spill over Lakshman’s shoulders like liquid shadow.

The court was silent—breathless.

Even Indrajit’s composure faltered as the transformation unfolded before him. 

Lakshman’s beauty was suddenly laid bare, raw and vulnerable beneath the harsh lights of Lanka’s throne room. 

The defiance still burned bright in his eyes, but now, tangled hair framed his face in a halo of unwilling grace. 

His stubborn jaw, the soft curve of his trembling lips, the furious, wild heat of his breath—it all pulled at something inside Indrajit he wasn’t ready to name.

But it was Raavan’s hunger that struck him hardest.

Indrajit’s gaze flickered to his father, catching the unmistakable glint of dark desire in Raavan’s eyes. 

This wasn’t just about power or humiliation anymore. The Demon King was admiring the prince—his beauty, his spirit, his refusal to bow.

And Lakshman, oblivious to the full depth of that hunger, only felt discomfort rising in his chest. The way Raavan inspected him, touched him, lingered —it wasn’t the mockery or pain that unsettled him the most. It was the unspoken question hanging in the air: What more does he want from me?

Swallowing his unease, Lakshman forced himself to glare through the tears that hadn’t yet fallen. "You’ll never break me," he whispered, voice shaking but firm. "I’ll die before I give you the satisfaction."

Raavan chuckled, releasing his chin with a sharp flick that sent Lakshman’s head snapping back. "We’ll see, little cub. Every fire eventually burns out."

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Raavan’s gaze lingered on Lakshman with a hunger no longer veiled by mockery or amusement.

The Demon King’s smirk deepened into something darker, more primal, as his eyes devoured every inch of the prince—bruises blossoming against golden-brown skin, stray locks of dark hair falling across flushed cheeks, and those defiant eyes still burning like twin embers refusing to die.

"So beautiful, even when you’re broken." Raavan’s voice was low, almost reverent, thick with a desire that dripped into every syllable.

Lakshman remained oblivious to the full weight of Raavan’s intentions, too focused on holding his pride intact. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, his trembling lips pressed into a thin line.

Every instinct screamed for him to fight, to claw his way out of this humiliation—but his bindings held fast, leaving him to simmer in helpless defiance.

At the edge of the room, Indrajit watched in silence, arms crossed over his chest. The sharp unease twisting through him had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way his father’s eyes lingered far too long.

This wasn’t about victory anymore.

Raavan crouched again, closer this time, the air thick with his presence. His fingers reached out, tracing a slow, deliberate line across the curve of Lakshman’s jaw, letting his thumb ghost over the trembling line of the prince’s lips. The faintest hitch in Lakshman’s breath sent a thrill through Raavan’s chest.

"You’re wasted on that pathetic brother of yours," Raavan murmured, voice like dark silk. "Such spirit, such beauty... Tell me, cub—has anyone ever truly seen you?"

Lakshman’s head snapped away from Raavan’s touch, fire sparking again in his eyes. "You’re disgusting," he snarled, voice hoarse but unwavering. "I’d rather die than let you lay a hand on me again."

That defiance—it only fed Raavan’s amusement. His laughter was low, rumbling deep in his chest as he rose to his full, towering height once more.

But Indrajit didn’t share his father’s pleasure.

His gaze lingered on Lakshman’s face, tracing the exhaustion and pain barely hidden beneath his bravado.

The sight of his father’s fingers brushing against that raw, unbroken will made something curl uncomfortably in Indrajit’s stomach.

This isn’t just conquest anymore. This is obsession.

For the first time, the great warrior prince of Lanka found himself wondering: How far would his father go to claim something that wouldn’t yield willingly?

Raavan’s voice cut through Indrajit’s thoughts, laced with cruel delight. "I wonder," he mused aloud, turning his gaze back to his captive, "how long before that fire in your eyes turns to ash? Will you still glare at me like this when I strip away everything you cling to?"

Lakshman swallowed hard, refusing to look away, even as dread twisted through him. He wouldn’t give Raavan the victory of seeing him break—no matter the cost.

But in the shadows of the throne room, Indrajit’s unease deepened, a silent question echoing through his mind:

How much destruction would his father bring down to claim the beauty of an unbroken soul?

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Raavan’s hand traced a slow, predatory path along Lakshman’s jawline, his thumb brushing against the corner of those trembling yet defiant lips. The demon king’s voice lowered to a velvet murmur, thick with something far darker than admiration.

"Skin like the rising sun," Raavan whispered, his fingertips brushing lightly down Lakshman’s throat, pausing where the prince’s pulse hammered furiously against his skin. "Golden, radiant, kissed by the heat of battle and the fire of youth."

Lakshman’s breath hitched, not in fear, but from the violation of his pride. His jaw clenched tighter, every muscle in his body straining against the bindings that left him helpless at Raavan’s mercy. Yet his eyes—those burning, defiant eyes—never wavered.

But Raavan wasn’t finished.

"And those eyes..." His hand slid upward, a thumb daring to graze the curve of Lakshman’s cheekbone. "Shaped like the petals of a lotus, full of purity... yet filled with such rage." He chuckled darkly, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over the prince’s skin. "A fascinating contradiction—innocence dressed in fury."

Lakshman’s stomach twisted with revulsion, yet he stayed silent, unwilling to give Raavan the satisfaction of a reaction. His pride remained his last, untouchable shield.

But Raavan’s eyes gleamed with something darker now—an unspoken hunger.

Raavan’s hand hovered just inches from Lakshman’s hair, his fingers trembling with a barely contained desire. “And your hair, Lakshman,” Raavan continued, “it’s as beautiful as a peacock’s silken feather. It falls like the richest night’s sky, dark and untamed, every strand shimmering with power.”

Lakshman’s breath came quicker, a mixture of anger and humiliation burning through him. His lips parted on instinct, whether to speak or spit venom at the demon king—but Raavan’s gaze had already shifted.

"And those lips," His thumb hovered just above them, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the trembling defiance beneath the surface. “Oh, those lips… They are as soft as rose petals, as tempting as the sweetest fruit, inviting me to taste, to claim. I could make you speak my name with those lips, but for now, they remain silent.”

Lakshman’s stomach churned as Raavan leaned down, his voice a soft whisper in his ear,  his thumb tracing the lower lip, pressing just enough to feel its softness.  "Full, stubborn lips, always ready with sharp words. But I wonder... what else could they be made to do?"

Indrajit’s stomach twisted.

That was the moment Lakshman finally snapped.

"Enough!" His voice was low, raw, yet it carried the strength of someone who refused to break. "Touch me again, and I’ll bite your hand off, Raavan."

For a heartbeat, the air between them stilled—thick with tension that even the gathered courtiers dared not disturb.

Then Raavan laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that echoed through the great hall.

Raavan leaned closer to Lakshman, his face mere inches from the young prince’s. His hand gripped Lakshman’s chin tightly, forcing the boy to look up at him, his gaze heavy with dark amusement. 

Lakshman’s heart pounded in his chest, his pulse quickening with both fear and fury. He refused to let Raavan see the terror that churned within him, but his body betrayed him, trembling despite his resolve.

Raavan’s eyes gleamed as he took in the defiance still lingering in Lakshman’s features, even as the prince’s body shook under his touch. His voice was a low purr, almost sweet in its malice.

"Be a good boy now," Raavan purred, voice low like a predator’s growl. His thumb traced over the trembling line of Lakshman’s lips, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Listen to me, and perhaps I’ll be merciful."

Lakshman’s jaw clenched, but the fire in his eyes didn’t waver.

Raavan’s smirk grew darker. "Or... I could always go back and take your precious Sita Bhabhi ." His voice dripped venom, each word like a blade slicing into Lakshman’s resolve. "I wonder if she’d tremble as sweetly as you do now."

The blood drained from Lakshman’s face, horror flashing across his features even as he struggled to suppress it. His breath hitched when Raavan’s finger continued its cruel path along his lips, tracing the quiver he fought so hard to conceal.

"I wonder... when will those lips finally break and beg for mercy?" Raavan leaned in, his intention clear—to claim something that wasn’t his.

But before his mouth could meet Lakshman’s, the heavy doors of the court swung open.

"Raavan!"

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Lakshman’s eyes flicked toward the source of the interruption, his heart racing as the figure of Mandodari appeared in the doorway.

Raavan pulled back slightly, his expression momentarily shifting from anticipation to surprise, before quickly smoothing into a mask of indifference. 

Lakshman, still bound and disoriented, could hardly believe the sight before him. Mandodari—Raavan’s wife—stood there, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and concern as she regarded the scene before her.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice calm but tinged with an edge of disbelief. She looked from Raavan to Lakshman, her gaze flicking between them as if searching for some explanation.

Raavan, clearly irritated at the interruption, slowly turned to face his wife. His voice, though still cold and commanding, was edged with annoyance. “Mandodari,” he began, “you’re interrupting something important.”

Mandodari did not move. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of Lakshman, bound and trembling on the floor, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance. 

She could see the discomfort on his face and something stirred in her—a distant memory of a time before her marriage to Raavan, when she had known what it was like to be in the company of someone who did not bring fear, but warmth.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp now. She looked to her husband with a mix of concern and disbelief, her composure slipping ever so slightly. “This is not the way. What are you trying to prove?”

Raavan’s eyes darkened as he turned fully toward Mandodari. “He’s a prisoner, Mandodari,” he snapped, “A symbol of my victory. What I do with him is none of your concern.”

Mandodari’s gaze flicked back to Lakshman, her heart heavy with some emotion she couldn’t quite place. There was something about the boy, something innocent yet dangerous in the way he carried himself despite the situation he was in. She hesitated, but then her gaze hardened, and she finally spoke.

“You are too cruel, Raavan,” she said softly, though her words were laced with a quiet authority. “You think you can break him, control him, but all you will do is lose him. You cannot break him with this. The boy is more than just a symbol of your conquest. He is someone’s brother, someone’s son.”

Raavan let out a low growl, his patience beginning to fray. “Enough, Mandodari. This is between me and him,” he said, his tone hardening as he turned his back on her.

Lakshman, still reeling from the near kiss, watched the exchange between the two. He could feel the weight of the tension between them, could sense that something deeper lay under the surface of their words. 

He was caught between two forces—Raavan, who would not stop until he had broken him, and Mandodari, whose gaze now lingered on him with a complicated mixture of pity and perhaps something else.

"He is a prince, not a trophy for your lust, Raavan." Mandodari’s voice softened, sadness bleeding through her words. "This will destroy what little honor you have left."

Raavan dismissed her with a wave of his hand, voice cold and sharp. "Enough. Take him not to the prison..." His eyes gleamed with malice as they returned to Lakshman. "but to my bed. Let him learn his place."

“Stop!”

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