There are three things a king should never do.
First, trust a stranger who shows up wearing a smile that's far too wide.
Second, chase a glowing animal through the forest just because it looks expensive.
And third—
“SITAAAAA!”
—scream hysterically in the middle of the forest until the birds take flight.
Ramadhita managed to do all three in a single day.
“Rama.”
Lakshmana's voice came from behind him, flat as ever.
“Brother, please stop shouting.”
“How am I supposed to stop?!”
Rama turned around. His usually immaculate hair was now a complete mess.
“Sita is missing!”
“I know.”
“She’s my wife!”
“I know that too.”
“She’s the empress!”
“Rama.”
“She—”
“Repeating her title isn’t going to make her magically appear.”
Rama fell silent.
Lakshmana sighed.
They had been making their way through the forest for almost an hour.
At first, everything had gone normally.
At least by the standards of their lives.
That morning, they had stopped at a rest stop before continuing their journey. At the same time, Sita spotted a golden deer darting between the trees.
Her eyes lit up immediately.
Rama knew that look.
The look that always made him surrender.
“Rama…”
No more needed to be said.
Rama was going after it.
Lakshmana didn’t go with him. He stayed behind to make sure his sister-in-law wouldn’t be left alone.
Then a scream rang out, and Lakshmana hurried after them.
The deer turned out to be incredibly fast.
Far too fast.
And somehow, after a fairly long chase, Rama only just realized that they had gone much too far from where they started.
When they finally returned…
Sita was gone.
There were no signs of a struggle.
No blood.
No message.
No kidnapper had left behind a threatening letter like the ones in stories.
There was only one of Sita’s bracelets lying on the ground.
From that moment on, Rama became the most irrational man in the entire kingdom.
“She must have been kidnapped.”
Lakshmana looked at the bracelet in his brother’s hand.
“Not necessarily.”
“Who could have kidnapped her?”
“A lot of people.”
“Who would want her?”
Lakshmana fell silent.
Rama fell silent too.
They looked at each other.
The same name appeared in both their minds.
“Ravana,” Rama said.
“Ravana,” Lakshmana said at the same time.
Ravana and the Wrong Kind of Love
He was tall, with red skin, long black hair, a massive crown, and enough gold jewelry to be excessive on even the most extravagant man.
That was Ravana Diradja.
The Ruler of Alengka.
A man whose reputation alone was enough to make three kingdoms choose to pay taxes rather than go to war.
And a man who, according to the rumors going around, had a deeply unhealthy interest in Sita.
Long before Sita became the empress of Ayodhya, Ravana already knew her.
The problem was, Sita didn’t know him.
Even after running into him several times, Sita would only look at him for a few seconds before asking,
“Sorry… have we met?”
Ravana never forgot that question.
Not because he was offended.
Quite the opposite. That was the moment he fell in love.
Several years earlier.
Ravana was attending a royal banquet.
He had arrived as the ruler of Alengka in all his magnificence: a towering crown, black clothes trimmed with gold, an excessive amount of jewelry, and a reputation as one of the most feared rulers in the entire land.
Everyone was watching him.
Everyone except one person.
A young girl at the far end of the hall was busy helping herself to cake.
Ravana watched her.
The girl was beautiful.
Very beautiful.
But that wasn’t what caught his attention.
She took a third slice of cake.
Then a fourth.
Then she stopped when she saw a servant struggling to carry a tray.
She immediately went to help.
“Here, let me help.”
Ravana fell silent.
Beautiful.
Kind.
And fond of cake.
Perfect.
“Who is she?” he asked a guard.
“Dewi Shinta Lestarina.”
“A princess?”
“Yes.”
Ravana nodded slowly.
From that day on, he began paying attention to Sita.
At first, it was perfectly ordinary.
He found out what she liked.
Her favorite flowers.
Her favorite foods.
The places she often visited.
Then, little by little, that attention turned into something stranger.
Ravana learned that Sita liked jasmine.
So he sent her a thousand jasmine flowers.
Sita handed them out to the servants instead.
Ravana learned that Sita liked to read.
He sent her a chest of books.
Sita used some of them to prop up the leg of a wobbly table.
Ravana once sent her expensive jewelry.
Sita asked whether she could exchange it for money to help the villagers.
Ravana began to grow frustrated.
“She’s not interested in wealth?”
“No, My Lord.”
“Jewelry?”
“No.”
“Flowers?”
“Apparently not.”
“Me?”
The guard fell silent.
Ravana stared at him.
“Answer me.”
“Not yet, My Lord.”
Ravana sighed.
“Fine. That means I’ll have to try harder.”
The problem was, Ravana had no idea how to approach a woman normally.
He wasn’t used to being rejected.
He was Ravana.
Usually, people immediately bowed their heads when he appeared.
Sita, on the other hand, had once told him to move because he was blocking her path to the food tray.
“Ravana, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’re standing in the way.”
“Oh.”
Ravana stepped aside.
Sita smiled.
“Thanks.”
That was all.
But for Ravana, that simple smile was enough to keep him awake all night.
When word finally reached him that Rama was going to marry Sita, Ravana felt his world collapse.
He did not take the news well.
He made plans.
A lot of plans.
Some were romantic.
Some were dramatic.
Some were completely ridiculous.
One of them involved sending a hundred white pigeons carrying love letters.
Sita read one letter.
Then forgot to write a reply.
Ravana nearly fainted.
But instead of giving up, his obsession only grew worse.
He convinced himself that Rama couldn’t possibly love Sita as much as he did.
Rama might be handsome.
Rama might be clever.
Rama might be the future king of Ayodhya.
But did Rama know that Sita liked a particular kind of flower?
Did Rama know that Sita often forgot where she put things?
Did Rama know that Sita could daydream for ten minutes just because she saw a butterfly?
Ravana knew.
At least, in his opinion, that meant he knew Sita better.
What he never realized was one simple thing.
Knowing someone does not mean possessing them.
And when Sita officially became Rama’s wife, Ravana couldn’t accept it.
Not because he hated Rama.
He did hate Rama.
But the main reason was much simpler.
Ravana loved Sita in the wrong way.
Too intensely.
Too obsessively.
And, according to anyone who knew him well—
slightly embarrassingly.
Because behind his fearsome face and reputation as a cruel ruler, Ravana was really just a man who had never learned how to accept no for an answer.
And because of that, he was about to make the worst decision of his life.