Disclaimer: All characters (except for Aayushi) belong to Christopher Pike. If they belonged to me, trust me, it would have been a much different story
Pairing: Yaksha/Sita
Summary: What if Sita had never met Rama, Never had Lalita? What if she had really loved Yaksha all along? For those minds adventurous enough to even wonder about it, this is your story.
Bold italics=flashbacks
Regular italics=thoughts/inner monologue
Normal text= talking, story, blahblahblah
Inspirational Quote for this chapter: "Old love does not rust." – Estonian Proverb
"Yaksha! Yaksha! Where are you going!" questioned the fifteen year old Sita. Her dearest friend Yaksha, son of a yakshini, stopped dead in his tracks; he then turned to face her with a saddened smile on his beautiful, young face. Truly, Yaksha was a beautiful young man, even in grief. His broad shoulders, oceanic blue eyes, dark hair, and fair, milky skin made him a handsome man indeed.
He walked the few meters distance between them in half a second. And then he raised a hand to gently stroke her cheek. "My dear Sita, I must leave now. But you cannot know the exact reason. Just know that my being around is a danger to you. Because, I am a dark creature, a monster of the night, damned by Krishna himself, and that is why I must leave, I do not wish to have you harmed over myself. It would be too great a sacrifice.
"But Yaksha, please do not leave me here alone. You are my love, and I could never bear to live without you. I would exist as naught but a hollow shell." implored a desperate Sita.
"I love you Sita, but you must live, for me." He paused at the growing torch-light in the distance," Live Sita, and I shall return for you when it is safe. But for now, I must be on my way."
And those were the last words she heard from him. As she had said, she continued about in a blurred haze, a shadow of her former self. She carried out her daily shores as usual, and when finished, went to sulk by the river, and after returning home for dinner, she sulked in her room. It is true, her body was not dead, but her soul was. She existed, yes. But did she live? No.
Ah, now back to the present, it has been four years since the tragic loss of her dearest love, Yaksha. Sita still mourns him though. Nothing could heal the wound on her soul from having her Yaksha so cruelly ripped from her arms. She blamed Krishna, damned him for causing her such misery, for allowing this to happen. Yet, there is a spark of hope that he may yet return. There have been strange disappearances lately, just like before Yaksha had fled the village. And, surrounding those disappearances, have been rumors, ghosts of whispers, that the man with the heart of a yakshini has finally returned to claim something he left behind, something that was rather important to him, though they do not know what.
This brings me to the point of how they know this. I mentioned disappearances, and I even mentioned that they were happening like last time. They are, yet they are not. It is true, there have been disappearances yes, but what makes them all the stranger is that the victims have been returned in the same day, all raving like lunatics, yet the people have believed them, and this is what has created the aforementioned rumors. This is what has caused the spark of hope within our young Sita.
Suddenly, in the middle of the night, there comes a quiet knock on the door. Sita runs to open it, without caution, though she does not know why. When she does open the door however, she is met with a sight that literally knocks the breath from her very lungs.
There, in her doorway, was a beautiful young man; His broad shoulders, oceanic blue eyes, dark hair, and fair, milky skin made him a handsome man indeed.
"Yaksha…"