The next day dawned upon Ayodhya, and the royal palace buzzed with an unusual energy. The family had gathered in the grand dining hall for a morning meal that held more significance than any other. The air was filled with a mixture of anticipation, curiosity, and a touch of anxiety. The palace guards stood at attention, aware that they were witnessing a moment that would echo through the annals of history.

The dining hall itself was a sight to behold. Massive wooden beams crisscrossed the high ceiling, supporting intricately carved panels. The walls were adorned with tapestries, richly woven with golden threads, each portraying a different facet of the kingdom's culture and history.

The long, polished dining table was adorned with gleaming silverware and crystal goblets. Platters of fruits, nuts, aromatic curries, freshly brewed porridge were laid out for all to enjoy. The aroma of spiced curry and freshly brewed herbal concoction wafted through the hall.

Seated at the head of the table was King Ram, a figure of grace and wisdom. His countenance bore the weight of years of rule and the wisdom that came with it.
On his right was his beloved daughter Somada, whose grace and beauty remained untouched by time. Her long, flowing locks framed her gentle face, and her eyes sparkled with a warmth.

To Ram's left was Lakshman, his loyal brother and unwavering companion, a true embodiment of valor.

Urmila, elegant and poised, sat next to Lakshman, her eyes reflecting a profound sense of understanding. Her presence brought a certain warmth to the gathering, a testament to her gentle nature. Bharat and Shathrugan sat with Mandhavi and Shruthakirthi.

Angad, the mighty warrior and embodiment of duty, occupied a prominent place at the table. His muscular frame hinted at the warrior he was becoming, and his eyes held a fierce determination to uphold his family's legacy. He had always been the silent strength behind the family, and today was no different. Next to him was his twin Chandra, the handsome and charming prince with and knowledge and wisdom that exceeded his age.

Kusha and Lava, the two sons of Ram, sat side by side next to Somada, their expressions a mix of curiosity and excitement. Their youthful exuberance added a sense of freshness to the gathering. The servants moved around, ensuring that the royal family's every need was met.

The atmosphere was charged with a sense of anticipation as the meal progressed. It was then that King Ram rose from his seat, and the hall fell silent. He cleared his throat, his voice carrying the weight of authority and experience.

"My dear family," he began, his eyes scanning the familiar faces before him, "I have gathered you all here today to share an important decision that has weighed on my heart for some time now."

The expressions around the table shifted from curiosity to a deep attentiveness. Every eye was fixed on King Ram.

"As some of you may know, I have ruled Ayodhya with all my heart and soul for many years. But now, I believe it is time for a change. I have decided," he continued, "that it is time for me to step down from the position of king of Ayodhya."

A collective gasp rippled through the room. It was a moment of profound shock. Ram had been the ruler of Ayodhya for countless years, a steadfast beacon of leadership.

Ram raised his hand to calm the stir of emotions. "Please, let me explain. Ayodhya has known peace and prosperity under my rule, and now it is time to entrust its future to a new generation. I will be crowning my sons, Kusha and Lava, as the kings of Ayodhya, and the kingdom will be divided into two states."

Lakshman, who had remained resolute beside his brother through every trial and triumph, spoke next. "If my brother is no longer the king," he declared, "then I, too, shall no longer serve as the commander of the army."

This announcement sent a ripple of concern through the assembly. Lakshman had been the backbone of Ayodhya's defense, and his absence from his role would be deeply felt.

Ram nodded solemnly. "I understand, Lakshman. You have served this kingdom with unwavering loyalty and dedication. It is only fair that you choose your path."

However, before any further doubts could take root, Lakshman continued, "I humbly request that my son, Angad, be announced as the new commander of the army. He has been trained rigorously and possesses the skills and wisdom required for the role. He is after all, the best warrior among our sons."

King Ram nodded, acknowledging the merit of Lakshman's proposal. "So be it," he agreed. "Angad shall assume the mantle of commander. Angad, has proven himself as the finest warrior among my sons. His strength and valor are unmatched, and I have complete faith in his leadership."

With this decision, the weight of uncertainty began to lift. The family members looked to one another, finding solace in the knowledge that the kingdom's future remained in capable hands.

As the breakfast continued, conversations flowed once more, filled with gratitude and understanding. The announcement had ushered in a new era for Ayodhya, one where the twin kingdoms of Kusha and Lava would play pivotal roles. It was a momentous occasion that would be remembered for generations to come, a turning point in the history of the great kingdom of Ayodhya.

* * * * *

The room was bathed in the soft, muted hues of morning, and a tranquil stillness hung in the air as the world outside stirred to life. Rupa lay nestled amidst silken sheets, a serene picture of slumber. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow, a cascade of wavy strands framing her peaceful face. The gentle rise and fall of her form, her firm arm cradling the promise of new life within, was a sight to behold.

As the sun's golden fingers extended to caress the room, they found their way to Rupa's closed eyelids. The warmth and gentle radiance stirred her from her dreams. Her long lashes fluttered open like the wings of a delicate butterfly, revealing eyes that mirrored the tranquil depths of a clear mountain lake.

With a languorous stretch, Rupa's lithe form began to stir. Her arms rose gracefully above her head, her fingers reaching for the heavens in a ballet of awakening. The sheet slid down slightly, revealing the gentle curve of her belly, where the secret of their unborn child nestled.

In the doorway, Angad watched this enchanting dance of waking, his heart swelling with love and admiration for the woman before him. He moved silently, a figure of strength and grace, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

With a soft smile tugging at her lips, Rupa finally sat up, her tousled hair cascading around her like molten gold. Her eyes lit up as she saw Angad, her beloved, standing there, a vision of love and devotion.

Angad approached the bed with a tender grace, his love for Rupa radiating from his very being. He reached out to embrace her, and she, with the elegance of a morning lily unfolding, welcomed him into her arms. Her embrace conveyed not only her love for him but also the deep connection they shared with their unborn child.

"Good morning, my love," Angad whispered, his voice like the softest ever. He greeted Rupa and their unborn child with a gentle touch, his hand resting tenderly on her blossoming belly.

Rupa's smile widened, and she replied softly, "Good morning." Her voice carried the promise of a new day filled with shared love and endless possibilities.

He leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss against her forehead. "And how is our little one this morning?" he inquired, his hand gently caressing the gentle swell of her abdomen.

Rupa's gaze sparkled with affection as she cradled her belly. "Our precious child is at peace, just as I am in your arms," she replied, her words wrapped in the tenderest of smiles.

As they held each other in that tender embrace, Angad began to share the news from the breakfast table, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and excitement. "Father Ram is stepping down from the position of king of Ayodhya," he revealed.

Rupa's hazel eyes widened with surprise. "Ram is abdicating the throne?" she asked, her voice laced with both astonishment and concern.

Angad nodded, his expression a blend of admiration and respect for his father's decision. "Yes, my love. After years of selfless service, he believes it's time. Lava and Kusha will be crowned as kings. They will be crowned kings, jointly overseeing Ayodhya."

Rupa's eyes sparkled with a blend of emotions. She felt genuine happiness for Lava and Kusha, who were taking on such significant roles in Ayodhya. Yet, there was also a touch of sadness, for Ram's reign had been one of wisdom and benevolence, and she would miss him dearly.

"It's a momentous change," she remarked, her voice tinged with both sadness and awe. "Ram has been a wise and benevolent ruler. Ayodhya has flourished under his reign."

Angad's fingers brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear as he continued, "Indeed, Father's legacy is unparalleled. But he believes it's time for the next generation to take the reins and lead Ayodhya into a new era."

Rupa smiled softly, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding of the weight of such decisions. "I am happy for Lava and Kusha. They have always been devoted to their responsibilities."

Angad's gaze lingered on his wife, a profound love shining in his eyes. "You're right, my love. They will make exceptional kings."

Angad's voice took on a note of pride, and he continued, "And, my love, Father has entrusted me with a new role. I am to be named the commander of the royal army."

Rupa's eyes sparkled with pride for her husband's achievements. "Angad, that is a great honor," she replied, her fingers tracing patterns upon his chest. "You have always been a formidable warrior, brave and skilled."

Angad chuckled, his love for her mirrored in his smile. "Your faith in me is my greatest strength, Rupa."

Rupa's eyes widened in delight, and a playful gleam danced in them. She teased him gently, her voice laced with affection. "I hope you won't be too busy to spend time with me and our little one."

Angad chuckled warmly, his love for her evident in his eyes. "Never," he vowed. "You and our child will always be my top priorities."

Overcome with joy and excitement, Rupa hugged Angad tightly, her heart brimming with love for the man who had brought so much happiness into her life. Their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss, sealing their shared dreams and the promise of a future filled with love, adventure, and the anticipation of their growing family.

* * * * *

Somada and Lakshman, disguised as villagers, ventured into the heart of Ayodhya,vunder the moon's faint glow, keen on hearing what the townsfolk had to say.  Their disguises rendering them unrecognizable. Somada had insisted on accompanying Lakshman, reminiscent of her childhood when she used to sneak out of the palace with her beloved father.

Their footsteps were silent as they navigated the winding streets, heading towards the central gathering place where villagers often assembled to discuss matters of importance. The evening was abuzz with conversations, and they blended seamlessly into the crowd.

As they mingled with the villagers, they overheard snippets of chatter. The villagers spoke of their beloved king, Ram, in glowing terms. They praised his wise and just rule, how he had ushered in an era of prosperity and harmony. One villager even said, "We are blessed to have a king like Ram. Ayodhya has never seen better days."

Another voice chimed in, "And Prince Bharat as the prime minister, he's the pillar of our kingdom. He ensures that every citizen's voice is heard, regardless of their station. His policies have benefited us all."

Somada smiled as she listened, proud of her family's accomplishments. But the conversation took a different turn, and she held her breath.

"But you know," a man said with a hint of disappointment, "I wish Lakshman had better control over his children. I've seen them running wild and breaking norms - highly uncultured and indecent. It tarnishes the family name."

Somada felt a pang of anger sprout i  her but continued to listen.

"Angad married that orphan girl, Rupa. No royal blood in her veins at all. No one knows where she was and no one knows who she was previously associated with! She joined the palace's tailoring unit and lured the young prince into her devious trap!"

"And now she's carrying the first grandchild to our King. It's not what we expected."

Somada couldn't hold back any longer. She felt the need to defend her family's honor. "How dare they?" she muttered under her breath. Somada's blood boiled, but she maintained her disguise and remained silent, leaning closer to Lakshman.

Lakshman placed a calming hand on her back. "Patience, Somada. We came here to listen, not to react."

A woman added her thoughts, "And what about Chandra? Rumor has it he had a romantic affair with Vibha before the married, the education minster's daughter. The maids kept telling how he would write lewd poetry and give her expensive gifts!"

Another woman nods. "And this Vibha too, with her smile and her curves, grinned and pursued the young prince! She seduced him so successfully!

"Scandalous, I say!" A man remarks.

The villager continued, "And what about that daughter of his, Somada? She married a commoner, Devansh, without a royal background. It's a disgrace to the royal lineage!"

Somada's cheeks burned with indignation. She was now more eager than ever to reveal her true identity. Still, she maintained her composure, realizing that the villagers were not aware of who they were speaking about.

As they continued to eavesdrop, Lakshman and Somada gleaned valuable insights into the village's concerns and opinions. The discussion shifted towards the challenges faced by the villagers, including issues of water scarcity, crop failures, and the need for better healthcare and education. These were matters that deeply concerned Somada, and she made a mental note to address them in the near future.

Eventually, the conversation drifted away from the royal family, and the crowd dispersed. Lakshman and Somada returned to their palace, their hearts heavy with the knowledge of the villagers' grievances.

Somada's face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She shot Lakshman a look that silently pleaded for them to leave before she revealed her true identity.Lakshman sensed her distress and gently tugged on her arm. "Come, Somada, we've heard enough."

It was nearly midnight when Somada and Lakshman returned to the palace. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and the moonlight painted intricate patterns on the ground. Yet, despite the serenity of the night, there was turmoil within Somada. Lakshman couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss with his daughter Somada.

Her usual vivaciousness was replaced by a simmering storm of emotions that he couldn't quite decipher. Lakshman, ever the observant father, sensed the unease in his daughter's every step. He had noticed the anger simmering beneath her serene exterior earlier in the evening when they had visited the village. She had maintained her composure then, but now, as they walked towards the palace, her stride was filled with a restless energy. She moved with an uncharacteristic determination, her steps echoing through the quiet night.

Somada entered her chamber and, in her haste, slammed the door shut. The sound of the door reverberated through the silent palace. Locking the door behind her, she stood in the middle of the room, her chest heaving with emotion.

He called out to her, his voice laced with worry, but there was no response. Panic surged within him as he pounded on the door, pleading for her to unlock it.

Inside her room, Somada was in turmoil. Anger, frustration, and sadness roiled within her like a tempest. The villagers' cruel words still echoed in her mind, cutting deep into her heart. They had slandered her family, especially her beloved father and brothers, and the weight of their words felt unbearable.

With a trembling hand, she swept her arm across a table, sending books, scrolls, and fragile ornaments crashing to the ground. Her rage was a tempest within her, threatening to consume everything in its path. She couldn't contain it any longer.

As the cacophony from inside the room intensified, Urmila, Ram, Angad, and Hanuman, who had been alerted by the commotion, hurried to the scene. They found Lakshman, his face etched with distress, attempting to break down the door. Ram, with his innate composure, ordered Hanuman to break the door open.

Just as Hanuman raised his mighty arm to strike the door, it swung open. Somada stood there, her eyes wide with a fierce determination, holding a bow with an arrow notched, ready to unleash its devastating power.

She spoke, her voice a mixture of fury and sorrow, "I will use the Brahmastra, the weapon of creation and destruction, to obliterate those villagers who dare to tarnish the honor of my family!"

Ram, his eyes filled with fatherly love, stepped forward, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. "Somada, put down the bow. Violence is not the answer. Tell me what happened."

He gently placed a hand on Somada's shoulder, causing her to lower the bow. Her eyes, a tempestuous mix of anger and tears, focused on her father, and her hands trembled with emotion.

"Somada," Ram spoke in a soothing tone, "Using the Brahmastra for vengeance is not the way. It's a weapon meant for upholding dharma, not for settling personal scores."

Somada's grip on the bow loosened as she looked into her father's eyes. The storm within her gradually subsided, replaced by a profound sadness. She lowered the bow, allowing Hanuman to take it from her trembling hands.

With a sigh of relief, Lakshman rushed and enfolded his daughter in a tight embrace. She wept in his arms, mumbling what hapoened that night and releasing the pent-up emotions of the evening.

Urmila, Angad, and Hanuman watched with concern etched on their faces. Urmila approached Somada, her touch gentle as she caressed her cheek. "It's alright, my dear. We're here for you."

Angad added, "Don't take any of those words to heart. They have no right to judge our personal lives."

Somada nodded, her tears gradually subsiding. She felt the warmth of their love and support, which gave her the strength to let go of her anger.

Lakshman stayed with Somada, sitting by her side as she finally found solace in the embrace of sleep. His daughter was strong, just like her mother, and he knew that she would overcome this trial. Outside, the moon continued its silent vigil, casting a gentle glow over the palace.

TO BE CONTINUED

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