Wolfin's LD Pride Stories

First topic message reminder :

Very shit in the beginning, but they get better.

August 6th: Brokefang walked over to Nala after his weekly sifting through his hoard. She looked at him curiously.
"What is it?"
"We have an excess of legs," he told her. "Maybe we should help Brin out, this time."
She didn't reply, knowing that he would do it no matter what she said. Instead, she asked a question. "How many do we have?"
"Seven," was the reply.
She sighed, shaking her head. Really, all the males in the Savannah were cubs, not matter what they looked like. Ahadi was in for a surprise.

August 6th: Every day that dawns on the male cub still alive is a day that the whole pride breathes. It isn't long before he reaches the milestone of adolescence, but everyone knows that his life hangs in the balance. Everyone except him and his sister, of course.
He has been growing weaker, but for some reason today seemed stronger. Phoibe, though, knows better than to doubt the words of the Queen. Everything the Queen has foretold before has been true. This cannot be any different. Even though it means losing a precious cub of the pride.
Each night, Madigan hopes that the cub will make it through the night. Keerva says very little on the subject, not even answering direct questions, but he has to know.
"Keerva, can you answer me?"
She lifted her heavy head, seeming to gaze right at him. "Depends on the question," she replied. He sighed heavily, and settled down beside her, the stars twinkling through the opening of their den.
"Will the cub live?"
She was quiet for a long time, not even the snake around now. Madigan didn't know where the reptile went at night, but he was grateful for the time that they got to themselves. He waited patiently, hoping that she would have an answer for him.
"I do not know," she finally replied. "All I know is that he will not reach adulthood. I haven't been told when, why, or how. Just what."
His head fell, landing with a thump on his paws. He shut his eyes tight, fighting back the disappointment that threatened to dig claws into him permanently. After a moment, he felt her begin to groom him, and despite himself, he felt his muscles start to relax.
"I know your disappointment," she murmured between licks. "Reale was the same. It is rare in this pride for males to live long unless they have been chosen."
He opened one eye, intrigued. "Why?"
She shrugged, her greying fur rippling over her still lean muscles. "I do not know that, either. It’s just the way of the pride, and the stars above. We are not one to question their ways.”
He sighed, closing his eyes again. They lay in silence for a long time, her rough tongue continuing to groom him, smoothing the burrs and tangles in his thick mane that came from each day’s exploring.
Slowly, he began to fall asleep, further lulling by the soft sound that was coming out of her throat. It wasn’t until he dropped off that he realised she was speaking to him.
“Only a male of the first king will be king. Just as only a female of the first queen will be queen.”

August 10th: The cub has reached his adolescence. There was much rejoicing in the pride, except from Keerva. She stayed away, curled under her tree as she listened, and Neidr watched. She knew that the longer he lived, the harder it would be to say goodbye. When the King came to her, rubbing his head against hers affectionately, she told him.
"I know," he replied softly, settling next to her. "His sister will find it harder. She needs a name, my queen."
Closing her eyes, she dropped her head on her paws, waiting. A name had been fluttering at her since the cubs had been born, unable to be pinned down and known. Now, she sensed that it would be.
"Ensam," she finally said. "Alone."
He gave a rumble of surprise. "You are sure?"
"It is not my choice," she snapped, glaring at him even with her blind eyes. "It was given to her on her birth."
He began to groom her, hoping to ease her vicious temper. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and she turned her head away. She could feel the smooth scales of the snake as he shifted about on her back, keeping his own counsel.
"You need a queen who can do her duty," she whispered.
He rested his head on her shoulders, avoiding contact with the snake. "I have one," he replied just as quietly. "I could not have done anything without you, Keerva."

August 11th: It has been a long time since the queen was pregnant, but she is. When the pair returned, even Ensem could see that something had changed. There was a softness in Keerva's eyes that hadn't been there before, and affection in her bearing towards the king.
There was a different sort of silence in their den that night, one of both sorrow and joy. He lay with his head resting on her shoulder, which was normal, but she'd rested her head on his paws, which wasn't.
"Keerva?"
She barely moved, but he sensed her shift slightly. She was listening.
"Why have you hidden yourself?"
At that, she got up a moved, pacing the small den that was theirs alone. He watched her, as always marveling at the way she knew just where the walls of the cave were. He'd never seen her bump into something in his lifetime.
"I had to," she finally said, and he frowned, not understanding.
"Why? That doesn't make sense, Keerva."
She shot a narrow glare at him, and he held his tongue, wary of her temper.
"I had to," she snapped. "I saw what my parents had between them, and felt my father's pain when Cally left. I wasn't going to risk it again."

August 14th: The queen's cubs were born today, a healthy litter of four. One was, unfortunately, a male, and so will be chased, but one of the girls has already been picked out as staying in the pride. The other two will go to other prides when they are older, as a peace offering. The one who is staying, the copy of Queen Calypso, already has the sparks of her mother's link with the Otherworld.
As expected, Madigan is besotted with all four, and spends as much time as he can with them when he is not patrolling the borders. And as before, Keerva allows the cubs to run riot, wreaking havoc in the otherwise organised pride. No one cares. They can all see the change in the normally cranky queen, especially in her bearing and demeanour towards the king.
As night fell on the small cubs' first day, Madigan found all five curled in the small den, four of them sound asleep.
"How are you feeling, Keerva?" he asked gently, crawling in cautiously. She lifted her head from nuzzling the babies.
"They're fine," she said, sounding amused as she answered the question he hadn't asked, but was thinking. "Don't worry about them."
He sighed, settling himself as close as he dared, gazing down at them. "Two look like you," he murmured. "One with your eyes, one with mine. The male looks like me. The fourth..."
"She looks like Cally," she finished. "I know. You've told me." Again, amusement coloured her tones.
He chuckled, and nuzzled her. "Have you chosen names?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. They will have to grow into names, first."
Before they could speak more, there was a commotion at the entrance of their den. Startled, and a little annoyed, he swung his head to the opening, very prepared to give a tongue lashing to whoever had interrupted them.
"Don't be angry," Keerva murmured, and he looked at her, confused.
"what?'
It was too late. One of the young teenagers crawled in, her ears lowered. "My king, my queen," she murmured. "There..." She hesitated. "There is bad news."

August 15th: They buried the boycub with the others who had gone before him. The whole pride is subdued, trying to remember the happy little male who lost the fight. Even though they knew it would happen at some point, it is still a shock. And for his death to come on the same day as the queen's cubs were born only made it harder.
Phoibe stayed apart from the pride most of the day, only letting Ensem near her to try and comfort. Both of them needed each other. Keerva did the same for Madigan.
As night fell, the sky clear with the stars blazing like tiny fires, she stood beside him. "He is no longer in pain," she murmured, causing him to stare at her.
"What? He was?"
She nodded slowly, and turned away, leading him into their own space. He followed, almost stepping on her heels. "Keerva! What do you mean?"
She barely looked over her shoulder, but the snake did, unnerving the king with the flat, pink stare. Unsure what to do, Madigan stayed silent after that, following the queen as she left the pride behind.
To his surprise, she led him unerringly to a small pool of water, hidden in the long grass under a shady tree. he pushed through the long fronds, and settled next to her, waiting for her to speak. he didn't know what she wanted to say to him.
"He was a brave boy," she finally said quietly. "He hid his pain well. None of the pride knew."
"What was it?"
She shrugged, her silvery-gold fur rippling over the still strong muscles. "It was in his bones. I could see it, feel it. It hurt him, Madigan. He is better off where he is, in the stars." She looked up, staring so intently that he did as well. For a moment, he saw nothing unusual, but then he blinked. He could have sworn that the stars were moving, oh so slowly, but they were. After a while, he could see the outline of a young male's head, looking down at them. It lasted only a second, and then it was gone, but it left a feeling of peace spreading through the king's body.
"He watches over us, little king. Like my father, and his father before him. The pride is never apart. We are just in different places. We will meet again."

August 24th: Niwlog, the last link to Reale, became pregnant today. Carrying Madigan’s cubs, she is more careful with herself, not getting into as much trouble as normal. The whole pride knows the value of her cubs, knowing that her son will be the next king.
To that extent, the king himself is not sure what Keerva thinks about the events. Even though he was told that only a boy of the first king could become king, he still doesn’t understand. Managing to catch her as the sun beat down on them from the middle of the sky, he pressed her for answers. At first, all she did was sigh, turning her blind head away from him.
“Please, Keerva.” He pushed his nose into her fur, wishing that she trusted him enough to share her thoughts. “Don’t you trust me, still?”
She refused to speak, and the snake hissed. Madigan ignored the serpent, not caring what it would do. It couldn’t hurt him – not when it would leave the pride without a king.
Finally, with no answers, he sighed, and got to his feet. If she didn’t want to speak with him, then he wasn’t going to press her. They were both growing old, and if she didn’t trust him now, then she never would.
It was much later when she came to him. At first, he was tempted to ignore her, as she had ignored him, but it wasn’t in his nature to do that.
“What is it?” He couldn’t stop himself from being blunt, brusque. She had irritated him, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling.
To his intense shock, she crouched in front of him, her head resting just in front of his paws. He lowered his head so that he could see her eyes, but she turned her head away.
“Keerva?” he whispered. He had no idea what she meant by her actions. They were typical submission gestures. The way that the sub males would normally act towards him.
Not his queen.
He nosed her gently, trying to make her stop. “Keerva,” he murmured again. “Please. Stop it.”
She only shifted away from his touch, confusing him even more. The snake wasn’t even with her, and he felt his breath quickening.
“You need a queen, my king,” she whispered. “One that can do her duty.”
To hear her repeat it angered him, and he growled low in his throat. She pressed herself to the floor of their den, her ears lowering, and shame filled him.
He’d though he’d understood her, but he didn’t. He never had.
“Keerva, please. You are my queen. I would have no one else.”
She still refused to rise to her feet. Eventually, he curled beside her, pressing as close as he could to her side.
“I won’t ever forget you,” he murmured in her ear. To his distress, she pulled away from him, curling into herself. He was at a loss of what to do.

August 26th: With the birth of Niwlog’s cubs came great celebration. At last, the future of the pride was secure. There was an heir to the throne, a boy of both Reale’s and Madigan’s blood. Worthy to lead the pride.
In all the excitement, no one noticed the queen slipping away, except for Ensem. Still young, though, the teenager said nothing of what she had seen, assuming that the queen merely needed some time to herself. As time passed, night fell, and no one could find her, though, Madigan was furious. The pride was in turmoil. Their queen was gone. Disappeared. Even the snake was gone.
“Find her!”
His tail was lashing, his blue eyes alight with a fear and fury that none had seen before. Those who had been here while Calypso and Reale had been alive recognised it. The king loved their queen.
Trembling, Ensem crawled to her king, and he looked down at her, shaking on the ground in front of him.
“What is it?” He fought to steady his voice, to control his anger. He didn’t want to scare her.
“My king…” she murmured, not meeting his eyes. He sighed, and sat down.
“Look at me, my daughter,” he said gently, his deep voice barely concealing his anger. She obeyed, her eyes so like his own. “What do you have to tell me?”
She trembled, her ears lying flat against her skull. “I…I saw her leaving,” she whispered, dropping her gaze again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything.”
“When was this?” He kept his voice soft.
“When the cubs were born, my king,” she answered. “She was alone, heading for the waterhole.”
He nuzzled her affectionately, his mane cascading around his strong form. “You are good to tell me now,” he praised her. “Thank you. Stay with the lionesses.” He waited until she had moved away before he raised his voice. “Shira!”
The elderly lioness came to him, her teenage cubs following her loyally. “Yes, my king?”
“Watch the pride,” he ordered. “Until I return.”
“You are going to search for her?” Surprise was evident in her voice and eyes, and he snarled, nearly turning on her.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“She has always been alone, my king.” Shira didn’t flinch. “I am a daughter of the first queen – she has my mother’s nature. If you press her too hard, she will flee further. Be careful with her.”
He narrowed his eyes, his teeth bared in a snarl. “Watch the pride,” he ordered again, and moved away. Her voice pulled him back.
“And her cubs?”
He froze, looking over his shoulder. The kingfisher feathers in his fur flew about his head as he shook his mane. “They stay here,” he commanded. “You all stay here.”
“You would doom us to death to search for an old lioness?” She almost sneered, and those within earshot froze, waiting with bated breath for Madigan’s response. She was pushing him very close to the edge. So far, he hadn’t touched any of them in anger – not even the cubs when they became too annoying.
“Face it, my king. She doesn’t want you. She’s never been a true part of the pride.”
He growled, deep in his throat and stalked back, towering over her. Her cubs cowered, whimpering with fright. “Watch your tongue,” he snarled. “Or I will watch it for you.”
Shira lifted her chin, searching his eyes. What she saw there satisfied her. “You doom us all.”
His body trembled, and they could all see the struggle he was having. The struggle between punishing her and gaining their fear, or not and keeping their trust. The trust won out, and he merely turned his back on them all. “You have enough food,” he snarled. “Take care of yourselves.”
As he left, Desert came to stand beside Shira, watching the dark vandal king leave. “Are you sure that was wise?” the darker lioness asked softly.
Shira sighed, nuzzling her cubs to comfort them. “I wanted to be sure,” she murmured. “She is so alone, Desert. I worry for her. He has given her his heart…”
“But she hasn’t given him hers,” Desert finished. “I know. This is the breaking point. Let’s hope you didn’t anger him too much.” With a wise glance at Shira, Desert left, returning to her own cubs.

August 27th: He finally found her, hidden in the long golden grass next to the waterhole. She was alone, the snake nowhere to be seen, but the remains of a carcass was beside her. Madigan sniffed at it curiously. It was fresh. She wasn’t starving, then. And with the waterhole so close, she wouldn’t be worried about water, either. Unsure what to do now, he sat a little way from her, watching her.
He knew she was awake. Her tail was flicking slightly, and her ears were moving. She made no move to speak to him, or even acknowledge him though, and he grew even more worried. Finally, he could think of only one thing to do.
Crawling on his belly towards her, he rolled onto his back at her feet, exposing his vulnerable underside to her claws. If she wanted, she could kill him now and he wouldn’t move to stop her. They both knew it. He waited, watching her.
He was kept waiting. A long, long time.
Finally, she moved, just as the sun began to touch the edge of the savannah. Except that her movement was to walk away from him, turning her back on him. He stared after her, and slowly rolled onto his side, lifting his head to look at her.
“Keerva,” he whispered, knowing that she could hear him. “I want no one else. All I want is you.”
She didn’t move, but it encouraged him. She hadn’t moved away. Slowly, carefully, he got to his feet, and padded over to her, settling near her, but far enough away that she wouldn’t feel threatened. He was cut to the core at the pain in her sightless eyes.
“Keerva…”
“Go back to your pride.” Her voice was harsh, cutting him off. “There is no need for me there. You have an heir.”
He shook his head violently, and inched closer, crawling at her feet. “No, Keerva.”
“Leave me. Let me die alone. Like I deserve.”
To his horror, her voice broke, and something inside him broke as well. A tear slipped down her cheek, and he forgot all care that he was trying to take. Moving without thinking, he nuzzled her, licking her face, washing away the tears.
“I’m never leaving you,” he vowed, continuing to groom her. Her silvery-gold coat was full of dust and mud, and he cleaned it all away. “Never. You are my world, Keerva. I could have done nothing without you.”
“Your pride needs you.” Her voice was still broken, and he sensed that her spirit was too. “Go back to them.”
“You need me more,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against hers. “You come first, my love.”
She stiffened at the words, and he drew back slightly, watching her carefully.
“You cannot mean that.”
He nuzzled her, wanting to keep touching her. She calmed something inside him, completed him. When she wasn’t there, he felt like half of him was missing. “I do.” His voice was rough. He didn’t know what to say, or how to express himself. “When you’re not around, I feel empty. Like something’s missing. You scared me, Keerva. When we found you were gone. You scared us all.”
She turned her head away from him, her eyes closing. “You can’t mean any of what you say. You don’t believe it.”
“No!” He begged with her, trying to make her see. “Please, Keerva. Please. I mean every word. I love you.”
In one last desperate attempt to convince her, he rubbed his head under her chin as he’d seen her cubs do. The unmistakeable sign of trust and affection.
“I love you,” he repeated. “Come home, Keerva. Please. We need you. I need you.”
She was trembling. So was he.

August 30th: It was a few days before he could convince her to return. In those days, he never left her side, not even once suggesting that he return to the pride without her. He needed her first and foremost.
At last, she agreed to return. He nuzzled her, overjoyed, a deep rumble sticking in his throat. He had no words to express his joy.
“Tell me the truth.”
He froze, and drew away slowly, blinking at her. “Th–th–the…the truth? About what?”
Pain filled her eyes, and she pulled away from him sharply. “I know he told you what he did. Yet you don’t even remember,” she said bitterly, walking to the edge of the waterhole. He followed.
“Keerva, please. You’re pushing the whole pride away. We all love you.”
“Then tell me the truth!” She lashed out, her claws unsheathed, to rake at his face. He flinched, but bore the slashes in silence.
“Keerva…” he whispered, taking no notice of the blood trickling down his cheek, the blood dripping into his eye, matting his fur. It wasn’t important. “Keerva. We miss you. We’re worried. Your cubs…”
“They will be taken care of,” she interrupted callously. “They won’t miss me.”
“Keerva, listen to yourself! They’re your cubs!”
“So was my son!” she snapped, her voice breaking. Anguish was clear in her voice as she looked away, closing her eyes. “My son…”
He drew closer, his tail curling over her back. “Reale chased him, didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. She nodded, a sob tearing out of her.
“Because he was a boy?”
She nodded again, and her legs folded under her, sending her to the ground,. He curled around her, providing comfort as he groomed her.
“Tell me of him,” he crooned softly. “Tell me of your son.”
“He was my light,” she whispered. “My Golau. Ysbryd’s brother. She doesn’t remember him. He was so little. So full of fun, of mischief.” She lifted her head. “It was just before you took over. Don’t you remember?”
He did now. A memory was coming to him. A memory of a pale coated cub, like Reale had been. His fur splattered with black, like his mother. He’d had the beginnings of a scraggy golden mane, and cheeky eyes that had always been bright.
“But Reale said he couldn’t stay. Because he threatened your position. He feared that my son would kill you. Because he had a stronger claim.”
Madigan wanted to do more than groom her. More than just be there for her. But there was nothing.
“He was gone. I came back from hunting, and he was gone. My little light, my Golau. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
“No.” He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that the kind Reale had done something like that. “That can’t be true.”
“It is. He told me later. When we were alone, and my mother was asleep. She hadn’t known either. I never told her.”
Hurting because of her pain, he touched his nose to her neck. “What did he say?” he murmured.
“That the cub was fine. That he was in a better place now. Where he would have a pride of his own.” Her voice was bitter now. “I knew he was lying. Knew what he had done ever since I’d returned. He’d killed my cub, my son. And then he expected me to welcome you.”
“Oh, Keerva…” He could offer no words of sympathy, and she wanted none.
“He killed him for you!” She nearly snarled at him, but didn’t move, and neither did he. “You’re the reason my son was killed. And you both expected me to return your affections!” Her voice had risen. She was shaking with anger. “You have no idea what I felt. He’d betrayed me. He was my king, and he’d betrayed me!”
“Keerva.” He spoke firmly, stopping her words. “None of your cubs will die while I am king. I promise.”
The tension left her, slowly, and she nearly collapsed against his side. “Promise?” She sounded like a cub, scared to hope.
“Yes. I promise.” He nuzzled her. “I don’t care if your last cub is a boy. He will not be killed.”
“I cannot have a boy,” she whispered. “Niwlog’s son will need a queen.”
“Then we will go to the Mystical Waters,” he answered. “They will have a solution.” He licked her cheek lovingly. “I love you, my feisty queen. I will do anything for you.” Even take her pain. Blood dripped from the scratches on his cheek. She seemed to sense it, for she began to lick the cuts, cleaning them.
“I’m sorry,” she said between licks. “You don’t deserve those.”
He shook his head slightly. “You were hurting. I am fine.”
For the first time that he could remember, she laughed, a soft, magical laugh that charmed him instantly.
“I am loved,” she repeated, almost in wonder. “I never thought that would happen. I never wanted it to happen. Not after seeing how much pain Reale went through when my mother died.”
He licked her cheek again, pressing as close as he could to her. “You are my only love. I promise.”

September 3rd: When the king returned, Keerva beside him, a ripple of relief ran through the pride. Both Shira and Desert had pleased looks in their eyes as they watched the couple, taking note of their deeper bond.
“It seems you were right, Shira.”
The cream lioness merely nuzzled her cubs, comforting them. The fear that they had felt when Madigan’s anger had gone through the pride was still strong in them, and they’d trembled, whimpering, when they’d seen him return. It didn’t comfort them when the dark male came towards them.
“Shira. A word.”
The two elderly lionesses exchanged a glance, but she followed the king out of earshot of the rest of the pride, although still in full view. Whatever he was going to do, he wanted the whole pride to know.
She dipped her head, lowering her ears in respect. “Yes, my king?”
He studied her for a long moment, not talking. He was aware of the glances from the rest of the pride, knew that even though they looked busy, they were watching. What he did next would cement their feelings for him until he died.
“You will not speak to me like that again, understand?”
He watched her eyes go wide with shock at his hard tone, but she bowed her head, lowering her gaze.
“Yes, my king.”
“Good.” With a quick jerk of his chin, he dismissed her, and watched her walk back to the pride. Desert met her halfway, speaking to her quietly, but neither of them looked at him. He ignored the rest of the pride, instead climbing the outcropping of rock that was over the small royal den. Settling onto it comfortably, he watched the actions of his pride in the shade, his eyes half closed.
Keerva soon joined him, but he barely moved, only shifting enough that she could lie in peace beside him.
“You were kind to her.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he retorted, lifting his head. She nudged his head.
“It is good,” she rebuked. “Don’t jump down my throat because of a simple observation.”
He sighed, and dropped his head back onto his big paws. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
She snorted, dropping her own head to her paws. “You have been a good king,” she said after a while. “Why are you so dissatisfied?”
He shrugged, his thick mane rippling over his shoulders. There was white in it now, for he was over ten. He was nearly ready to leave the pride for good.
“I feel like I don’t know enough,” he admitted, glancing at her.
She snorted again, and began to groom him, smoothing that thick mane. “You know plenty, my king,” she assured him. “You’re still here, aren’t you? No challenger has defeated you.”
He tilted his head to her, conceding her point. As she continued to groom him, he closed his eyes, enjoying it.
“There’s nothing to worry about, my king. You have an heir who is strong and healthy. Mystery has chosen his heir, who is also strong and healthy. They will form a tighter alliance between the prides, as well as with the rest of our allies. There is nothing more that has to be done.”
He sighed, and rolled onto his back, laying his head at her feet, looking at her upside down. She seemed to smile, and nuzzled his white belly.
“Silly,” she said, and rose to her feet, leaving him where he was, frowning after her in confusion.

September 6th: With the Queen carrying her last cubs, a sense of sadness and grief has swept over the pride. She is growing old, her fur now almost totally silvery-gold. Despite some stiffness, she is still agile, and still leads the hunts, refusing to back down from her duty. The night after she revealed her news to the pride, she stayed out, lying on her back under the stars, Neidr curled around her body and legs. Madigan found her there, and lay down near her.
“Are you alright, my Queen?” he asked softly. It was almost like she could see the stars, her gaze was so intent.
She turned her head, a sparkle in her eyes. “Yes,” she said simply. The snake began to slither away, leaving them alone, and she rolled onto her side, tilting her head to the king. “You are pleased with the pride, my king?”
He sighed, dropping his head to his paws. He seemed to be doing it a lot lately. “Yes,” he answered.
She shook her head slightly, and rose to her feet, still surprising him with the grace and litheness that she still possessed despite her age. She came over to him, rubbing her head over his as she made a soft sound in her throat.
“You will teach your son well,” she assured him. “But be careful. He’s not like you. He doesn’t have the same kindness that you have.”
He looked at her, returning the headrub affectionately. “What do you mean, Keerva?”
She settled on the ground again, letting their tails intertwine. “I haven’t been shown much,” she admitted. “And Neidr refuses to speak of it as well. He is different to you, little king. A harder personality. Still sweet, but not as laid back as your rule has been.”
“But he will do well by the girls?” He was anxious, unwilling to hand the pride over to a male who was not worthy, and who wouldn’t treat the lionesses right. They were the blood of the pride, after all. The ones who kept them alive.
She snorted, amused. “Yes. He is merely stricter, Madigan.” Abandoning their talk, she pressed closer to him, rubbing her side against his side.
He leaned against her, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to be alone,” he murmured.
“I know.” Her voice was very soft, a whisper on the breeze that tickled his ears. “You won’t be for long. I promise.”
He pressed as close as he could, feeling like a cub. He didn’t ever want her to leave him. “Don’t leave me,” he begged. “Please.”
She nudged him closer to her, comforting him. “I won’t,” she promised again, her voice gentle. He rubbed his head under hers, trying to get as close as she would let him. It didn’t matter to him that her last cubs were fathered by another lion. All that mattered was that they were together.
At last.

September 8th: Calm has settled over the pride with the birth of the princess Cuddio. Named for her hidden nature, she is a lively little thing, keeping all the younger lionesses on their toes as they try to keep her out of trouble. The morning she was born, Keerva was alone, but Madigan soon came in, settling at a cautious distance while he waited.
“Keerva?”
She merely flicked her tail, telling him to be quiet. He obeyed, lowering his head and ears as he waited patiently. The pride could wait. He had his queen to look after.
After enough time had passed to make his nerves stretch thin, Keerva lifted her head. The movement revealed the tiny pale bundle of fur curled at her side, and Madigan felt his eyes go wide.
“She’s beautiful, my love.” He rose to his feet, hesitantly going over to her to rub his head against hers. “She will make a wonderful Queen.”
“She is,” Keerva answered softly. “Little king. There hasn’t been a cream queen since the time of Nala, my grandmother. She carries the blood well.”
He snorted in shock, and lowered his head to sniff the tiny cub. “How do you know what colour she is?”
“I just do.” Amusement coloured her tones, and he smiled slightly before nudging her gently.
“Rest,” he ordered softly, turning to go. “There is no need for you to do anything today.”
“For now,” she responded. “For now.”
When he returned, she was still there, tenderly grooming the mewling cub. He made to lie in his usual place, still wary of his queen’s temper. Even though she had mellowed a little, she could still be intimidating.
“Come, little king.”
He hesitated, unsure, but he went over to her, curling at her side. She transferred her grooming to him, and he began to relax, letting the stress from the day drain out. He returned the favour, letting her know just how much he loved her, and would miss her. Between them, Cuddio wriggled around for a moment before settling down to sleep.
“Must you go?” he finally murmured, resting his head on her shoulders with his eyes closed. “I don’t want you to.”
She chuckled softly, not stopping her soothing grooming. “Yes, my king. I must. Everyone goes when it is their time. Nothing can stop it.”
He grumbled under his breath, and she nipped his shoulder, making him yelp. “What?”
“Stop it,” she scolded. “There is nothing you can do about it, so stop grumbling.”
He sighed, pressing close against her. Around her, he always felt like a cub. She was so wise. She began to hum softly, the sound threading through the small den that was theirs alone.
“Please,” he whispered. She merely licked his mane, smoothing it away from his face.
“I wish I could,” she answered softly. “But there is nothing we can do. I will be waiting for you, little king. I will always wait for you.”

September 12th: A new lioness had appeared on the horizon, merely visiting. Curious, one of the younger lionesses of the pride went to meet her, bringing her back to offer hospitality and a place to stay. When Madigan saw her, though, something about her triggered a memory, and he only stayed long enough to greet her cordially. He needed to talk to his Queen.
As normal, she was found above their den, lounging in the shade provided by the acacia tree. “There is a visitor,” she remarked as he scrambled up to join her. It didn’t surprise him much anymore. With her sharpened senses, and Neidr as her constant companion, she seemed to know more than he did about the activities of the pride.
“Yes,” he muttered darkly, dropping to lie beside her. His dark coat – thankfully – blended in well with the dappled shade and dark stone around him, and he was not easily spotted. “Keerva, she…”
The old lioness turned her head to him, pinning him in place with her sightless gaze, and making him feel like a cub again. He lowered his head submissively, shifting his gaze so that he was no longer looking at her directly.
“What is it?” she asked, almost sternly. “Is there an issue with the girl?”
He hesitated, knowing that she would be hurt by his suspicions. “I…I think this is best spoken about where we won’t be overhead,” he muttered quietly. She nudged him hard enough that he almost fell off his perch. Glaring at her as he saved himself, he grumbled under his breath. “What was that for?”
“Coward,” she answered, almost mildly. There was still that hint of sternness in her voice though. The tone that made him want to crawl so that she wouldn’t use it again. He sighed.
“The visitor,” he admitted. “She…I don’t know for sure, but…she….” He sighed again, knowing that the wait wouldn’t be easing her temper. “She looks like Golau did.”
The old lioness froze, her fur rippling in the tiny wind that carried through the land. “No. It isn’t possible.”
He reached out with his nose to nuzzle her, hoping to comfort her. She made no response.
“She can’t be here.”
“Keerva.” He tried to talk to her, to comfort her, but she snarled at him, warning him away. He refused to go.
“Send her away.”
He stared at her. “We can’t do that, Keerva. She’s a guest.”
She snarled again, rising to her feet with grace despite her age. “If you won’t, I will.”
Before she could move any more, the snake curled around her strong form moved, lifting his pale head.
“You are being hasssssssty, queen.”
She paused, clearly thinking. “No,” she finally said. “I will not let her stay.”
“Why, Keerva?” he asked her, standing so that he could stay close to her. “Why is it such a problem for you?”
She snarled at him again, pushing past him to leave the den. She left the area swiftly, not stopping, even when the cubs scampered up to her. With a sigh, he ran after her.
“Keerva!”
He finally caught up with her a fair distance from the dens. “Keerva, please tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t.”
She refused to answer until they were a fair distance from the pride, where there was no danger of being overheard. When she stopped, he plonked his furry butt on the ground, refusing to go any further.
“Keerva.” He only said her name, his tone stern. He wanted her answer.
She gave a heavy sigh, and settled on the ground, all her muscles tense. “She cannot stay past tomorrow night,” she finally said.
He was confused. “Why?”
“The stars do not tell all,” she chided, almost gently though. Her bad temper was slowly evaporating. He inched forward, reaching out to try and comfort her.
“What have they said, my Queen?”
She sighed again, lowering her head to her paws. “Only that she cannot stay. It will put both our prides in danger.”
He blinked, startled. “Both? What do you mean?”
“Mystery’s, little king. She is of Mystery’s pride, and must return to it.”

September 15th: Thankfully, the strange lioness seemed to sense the tension in the pride. She made no fuss when the king quietly asked her to leave, and when she had, the tension evaporated. He returned to his queen, once more above their den, and settled beside her.
“Better?” he muttered, almost darkly. He was in a bad mood, having slept badly, and now the cubs were clamouring for his attention. His head was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was go back to bed, where it was dark and quiet.
She snorted slightly, and rested her head on his briefly, before beginning to groom him gently. “Bad mood, little king?” Her tone was light, teasing him, and he sighed, letting his head drop heavily to his paws.
“Yes,” he admitted, shutting his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. “I don’t want to move, Keerva.”
“Then don’t,” came the calm answer. “No one will blame you. It’s been a tough few weeks. We can manage for today.”
He opened an eye cautiously to look at her. “You’re sure you can?” It was obvious that he was feeling terrible if he was even considering her offer.
“Yes,” she murmured, nuzzling him affectionately. “Go on. The den will be quiet.”
He heaved another sigh, and lurched to his feet. His head throbbed in response, but he managed to push it away for the moment. Nuzzling the top of his queen’s head lovingly, he made his careful way down the small hill, heading for the dark comfort of their den.
Keerva stayed where she was, listening to the sounds of her pride. She’d lived her whole life with them, helping them through many hardships and highlights. She didn’t want to leave them. With a sigh, she headed down the small hill, pausing to swing her head in the direction of her king, her mate. She could hear the sounds of his sleep breathing, a sound that she’d often lain awake listening to, letting it comfort her. After a few moments, she turned away, leaving him in peace to sleep out his dark mood as she ran the pride.

October 2nd: Llwyd has grown to adulthood, the first male since Madigan to do so, and so ventures forward into the big wide world. With the blood of all the kings running in his veins, he is destined for great things, but no one speaks of it.
The King sent him off for his first patrol today, partly to start training, but more to give them all a rest from the pranks that both heirs think up. While all was quiet, he took the opportunity to settle beside his love, flopping on the ledge beside her with a sigh. Her response was to laugh softly.
“Exhausted, little king?”
He grunted, unwilling to talk. She didn’t press him, beginning to groom him affectionately.
“You will do well with him, little king. He has great promise.”
He grunted again, seemingly unwilling to talk, and she butted his head. “What’s wrong?”
He sighed, letting his head drop to his paws. “They are a mischievous pair,” he said softly.
She snorted with amusement. “Yes, I know. The whole pride knows. What of it?”
He looked at her, worry in his voice when he spoke next. “What does it bode for the pride?” he asked. “Can they be trusted to lead them well?”
Now she cuffed him hard, and he promptly rolled onto his back, exposing his furry belly. “You are a fool sometimes,” she said, but her voice wasn’t as sharp as it once had been. “They are of your blood and mine. Let them have their fun. They will grow up soon enough.”
He blinked at her, not bothering to move again. It was a lazy afternoon, the sun beating down on them and making the horizon hazy. “You’re sure about that?”
She nipped his ear. “Yes, little king. As I remember, you were very much the same. Don’t worry so much. All will be well.”
He yawned, his teeth sharp and glinting in the sunlight trickling through the leaves of the tree. A disturbance at the edge of the den area roused him slightly, and he twisted to look at what was happening. It was Llwyd, coming back covered in dirt and twigs, and Madi groaned, pressing himself into the rock, as if to hide himself from sight.
“Do I have to?” he muttered.

October 16th: One lioness didn’t wake up this morning.
She was found, her silver-gold coat smooth and unruffled, in her customary spot above the den, watching over them even though she was gone.
The King was furious in his grief. Before anyone realised the true depth of his grief, one of the youngest lionesses approached him, hesitant to interrupt him, but needing to ask him a question.
“My King?”
He turned on her, lashing out with a paw. Mercifully, he didn’t touch her, but he terrified her enough for her to flee his den, her fur standing on end. The same happened with any other who approached him until, finally, they left him alone, brooding in the back of his den, distraught with grief. He refused to leave the den, and for the first time in anyone’s memory, he snarled at his pride. Even the heirs, Llwyd and Gyfrinach, were refused entrance to the den. No one could comfort him, or even try to.
When he finally emerged, it was to disappear into the distance. He didn’t return for nearly five days.
When he did return, he was a shell. His personality had gone, and though he resumed running the pride, they could all see that his heart wasn’t in it. He just found no joy in his place in the pride any more.
Llwyd found himself being turned to more and more for guidance and leadership, and though he tried, he wasn’t the King. He was too young, too inexperienced, and didn’t know what to do. The princess tried to help, but she was even younger, even more unsure, and neither of them could bear the burden.
At last, Dahlia went to the King, managing to get him alone.
“My King.” She dipped her head as expected, showing the respect that the pride felt for him, even though he didn’t seem to notice anymore. He barely glanced at her, and she felt her heart ache at his grief. “Please, my King,” she whispered. “The pride needs you to lead them.”
He turned his head to her, and she saw with shock and despair that his eyes were blank, devoid of everything but the deep grief that he felt.

November 9th: Madi has, in essence, retired from the pride. He takes no interest in the proceedings, instead preferring to stay in the shade of the huge old tree above his den. He has allowed Llwyd to tentatively begin ruling, knowing deep down that it is for the best. The young male needs to make mistakes while he is still around. It is the only thing keeping the King from joining his beloved Keerva.
“Dad?”
The King lifted his massive head, his muzzle silvery white from old age, to look at his heir. Despite his age, his blue eyes, inherited by the cub, were still bright and sharp with intelligence. “What is it?’ he asked wearily. He was tired of living.
The grey male sighed, and ventured to sit in front of his father. “Will you join us for the tales?” he asked cautiously. Madigan had not joined the pride for the ritual since Keerva had gone. She had been the chief storyteller, the one who had captured everyone’s imaginations with her tales and legends.
For a long moment, Madigan did nothing, thoughts swimming in his eyes. But he soon lowered his head, saying nothing, turning his face away from the young male. His answer was clear. With a sigh, Llwyd got to his feet, turning away. There was no point in pressing the huge male further.
The rest of the pride gathered around the entrance to the main den, the teenage cubs for once calm and quiet, their fur shivering with anticipation. Aurora, as the eldest, began the night of storytelling, the full moon hanging huge and round in the sky above. She took a breath, meaning to begin, when a shadow fell over them all. The cubs scrambled to their mothers, despite often insisting that they no longer needed them, and the lionesses themselves looked up in shock, fear entering their eyes for a brief moment.
It was Madigan, his mane making his shadow seem even more terrifying. With a dip of his head, he entered the den, moving to the back to settle down, watching with calm eyes. His pride stared at him, but wise Aurora was the first to break the still silence.
“My King,” she said softly. “What tale would you wish to hear?”
He merely rested his head on his paws, his gaze shifting between them all. His pride, his beautiful lionesses, his handsome heir. The playful and intelligence cubs. His legacy.
His gaze finally rested on Gyfrinach. The cub of his beloved Keerva.
“None,” he finally rumbled, and a gasp ran through them all. Before they could protest, he continued speaking, a trace of his old fire coming back into his voice. “It is time for a story from me.”
Shock fell over the pride. Never before had they heard a tale from their king.

December 2nd: Though the grief and pain is no longer as clear in the old king’s eyes, he still takes a side role in leading the pride. Llwyd has in essence taken over, still looking for guidance, which is given by all of his elders. The young lioness Musara has left the pride, to go as a peace gift to the pride of Nkanyezi, only a little younger than Llwyd. In this way, an alliance will hopefully be forged between the two prides, to strengthen their positions in the lands, and to help through the tough times.
The two young lions had met during patrolling, and forged a strong friendship. To begin with, they tried to keep it a secret, unsure if their respective kings would approve. Unfortunately, this wasn’t to be.
“And where have you been?”
The low rumble startled Llwyd, and he spun in the dust to stare into the wise eyes of his father. Unsure, he crouched low to the ground.
“Uhh…patrolling?”
“All day.” The disappointment was clear in Madigan’s voice, and Llwyd crouched lower, confused. Before he could speak again, the king flicked his tail, walking to the small stream that ran past their den. It was out of earshot and out of sight of the rest of the pride.
Unsure what he had done wrong, the young male followed, his ears and head lowered. When the King stopped, Llwyd dropped to the ground, watching cautiously. He didn’t understand.
“Where were you?”
The heir couldn’t look at his father, too ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
With a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a groan, the huge old king settled on the ground, watching his son. “I’m sure you are,” he said dryly. “You were out all day, with only a feather and a skull to show your efforts. What else were you doing?”
Llwyd didn’t know what to say, and kept silent, his eyes on the dusty ground between them. “I…uhhh…”
“Stop stalling. I can smell him on you. Who were you with?”
Caught now, the male had to answer. “He’s an heir, too.”
“That tells me nothing.”
The words tumbled out of the lion’s mouth, unable to be stopped. “It was at the border, maybe a week ago. He was patrolling too. He seems like a nice lion. He said that he’s in training. His pride was all killed when the rabies came around. There’s only four of them, and his old mentor left. He said he wanted to make an alliance with us, if we were willing.”
“And when was this?”
Llwyd paused, hesitation entering his eyes again. “Um. Last week?”
With a sigh, Madi heaved himself to his feet, shaking his head. “Tell your new found friend to come to us. Negotiations will have to be discussed. A gift determined. Not everything can be trusted on words alone, youngster. Keep that in mind.”
Llwyd nodded, grateful. “Now?” he ventured.
“Yes, since you’re so eager to patrol.” The King’s voice was dry, and the young male ducked his head, embarrassed. “At least bring back a carcass this time. The store is running low.”
“Of course.” Deciding that escape would be the best option now, the grey lion almost fled.

March 3rd: Thankfully for Llywd, the negotiations between Nkanyezi, his mentor Iklwa, and Madi went well, and an alliance was formed. The young lioness Musara was chosen to join the pride, for she seemed eager to leave and find new lands. Madigan, his eyes still sharp, had noticed her shy glances at the young king to be, and sent her on her way, knowing that she would be content, at least. For now, there is no exchange of gifts, but because of the growing friendship between the two young heirs, there is none needed.
“My King?”
He lifted his head, sighing gently as he took in the features of his oldest lioness. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” she said simply, padding forward to lie before him. “You do so much for us. What can I do for you, my king?”
Slowly, he began to groom her, his tongue still gentle. “There is nothing now,” he said quietly. “The boy is growing well. The pride will be strong under him.”
“You are leaving us soon, then?”
“I must.” He sighed again, closing his eyes as weariness washed over him. “She is calling for me, Aurora.”
“Then go.” She nosed him, her amber eyes understanding. “No one will blame you. You have done so much for us.”
“Not yet. There is not long before he has learned enough. But he is not quite ready yet.”
“Are you sure? He seems ready.” Concern filled her eyes, and she began to groom him cautiously, smoothing the tangles out of his thick mane.
He snorted softly with amusement. “He is only young. I doubt anyone is ready to take the throne, no matter how old they are.” He got to his feet, shaking his mane and stretching. For a brief moment, he looked as he had in his youth, dark and shining, the young and strong prince of the pride. Then the image was gone, and he was the wise elder once more.
“Go with your pride, Aurora. There is not much time left for either of us. Treasure it while you can.”
She nodded, dipping her head to him, and left him, still standing in the shade.

March 4th: Madigan is more white than brown now, giving the appearance of eternally covered in the snuh that was briefly around a few months ago. His joints are even stiffer, meaning that he rarely leaves the shaded around the dens.
But he is still alive, still lending his wisdom to the pride. And in this time of poachers and fear, that wisdom is needed. It is only because of him that the pride understands what is happening. There are more two-leggers than ever, leaving mutilated corpses in their wakes that the pride struggles to keep from the cubs. They are too young, too innocent to see the slaughter.
And Madigan only knows because it has happened before. Under the rule of Reale, the poachers had come last year, the same month. And the pride had survived. From that month, Madi had learned all he could about them, for it was only halfway through the month that Reale had died.
The cubs were hidden, and the last cubs of Madigan were conceived. With a few lionesses carrying their last litters, no one but the king and his chosen knew who was carrying his cubs, and they would not tell. With Madi growing old, it was clear that they would be born after his death, and only then would they know. Only then would the bloodline of the brown king be carried on.

March 7th: The King is dead.
He was found by Llwyd, on one of his patrols, not far from the den, near the small pond that he and Keerva used to disappear off together. He was lying by the pool, his front paws in the water, as if he’d been trying to see his queen, his love.
What confused the young male was the amount of flattened grass around the huge male. It was almost as if he’d been in a fight. But no male had ever dared to challenge Madigan, for he had been strong and smart. He’d rarely lost a fight.
Llwyd didn’t understand what had happened. The scent of blood was all around the pond, hanging heavily in the air. He could almost see it.
Fear thrummed through him as he crept closer, placing his paws silently on the flattened ground, as if making too loud a noise would wake the king. The scent of blood and death grew stronger the closer he got, and soon he couldn’t bear it. Frightened, he fled back to the den, to his pride.
Seeking out Dahlia, he found her in the shade, watching over the cubs as their mothers hunted. At his hurried approach, she lifted her head, looking at him curiously.
“What’s got your mane tangled?”
About to blurt out what he’d seen, he realised that the cubs were staring up at him curiously, and held his tongue. “It’s not for the cubs,” he said instead, and nosed them away. “Find Gryffy,” he told them gently. “She’ll play with you.”
At the sound of Gyfrinach’s nickname, the cubs scrambled off, mewling with excitement, and Dahlia chuckled with amusement.
“She will be irritated with you, young prince.”
He ducked his head, not contrite in the slightest. “They couldn’t hear this,” he said quietly, and her humour vanished.
“What have you found?”
He swallowed, shaking his mane. “Come see,” he whispered. She stared at him for a long time, and then stiffly got to her feet. She was the oldest in the pride now that her denmates had gone, and was nearly ready to join them. He could only hope that what he was going to show her wouldn’t speed her on her way.
Before she moved to follow him, she cast her still sharp eyes over the cubs, making sure that another lioness was watching over them. When she was satisfied, she followed the young prince, back to the small, secluded pond.
What she saw shocked her, and she stopped dead. He crept closer to her, not allowing himself to look at his once mighty king. He didn’t want to see him, looking small and lifeless.
“Dahlia?” he whispered, tentative.
She shook her head, her eyes filled with grief, and stepped carefully forward, moving around to the other side of the lion’s body.
“This was how you found him?” Her voice was husky, almost too low to hear.
He nodded. “I haven’t touched him. I didn’t want to disturb him.”
She dropped her head, sniffing at the brown male’s blood soaked pelt. “He died bravely,” she murmured.
He stared at her. “What?” His legs stiff, he walked to join her. “What do you mean?”
She licked at the king’s side, cleaning blood off the fur. “Look,” she said in response, and he did.
He recoiled at what he saw, unable to believe it. “No,” he breathed. “It can’t …”
She nuzzled his grey fur. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But he protected us to his dying breath. You will do him proud.”
He shook his head, backing away. “No. No, I can’t do this. I’m not ready for it. Please, Dahlia.” He was pleading with her. “I can’t.”
She turned away from him, continuing to clean the dead king’s pelt. “You must,” she said gently. “Would you leave the pride without a king?”
He shuddered, his claws digging into the ground. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from his king, couldn’t get the image of the bullet holes out of his mind. “No,” he whispered again. He turned and ran, away from the dens, away from the place of death. He had to be alone.

March 8th: They buried Madigan with Keerva, as they knew he had wanted to be. Gyfrinach had gone after her pride-brother that afternoon, following his scent until she found him curled under a pile of rocks, covered in dirt. Around him was evidence of his grief – slashes in the rocks and ground, small bushes completely uprooted. For a moment, she thought that their king had returned from the dead, grieving all over again for his queen.
Then she looked, and saw the differences, the smaller figure of Llwyd, and the dirt covering him. Nothing had changed.
“Llwyd,” she said gently, walking towards him. He refused to move.
She sighed, and settled beside him, not quite letting herself touch him yet. In silence, she waited, knowing that he would speak to her when he was ready. She understood. After all, the king had been his true father, not the father figure like he’d been to her.
“Why?” he finally asked, miserable, and lifted his head to meet her gaze. His blue eyes, so like his father’s, were full of grief and fear. “Why did he go there? Surely he would have scented them?”
She inched closer, laying her tail over him, and groomed his mane tenderly. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t know why he went, or why he didn’t flee. But he’s not in pain anymore, Llwyd. And he’s with my mother. He’s happy now.”
He shook his head, denying it even as his body was racked with grief. He leant into her, burying his face in her side, and she curled around him, comforting him as best she could. She hummed deep in her throat, almost like a mother would to her cubs, continuing to groom him, never ceasing.
They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, just sharing their grief. At last, the young lioness moved, nuzzling her mate.
“We are stronger together,” she said softly. “Don’t give up on us.”
His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them as he looked at her, and she found that she couldn’t look away. The world seemed to tilt, only for a second, before it returned to normal, and she took a deep breath. She didn’t know what had just happened to her.
He finally blinked, breaking the hold over her, and turned his face away from her. She nuzzled closer to him, her heart heavy. But she knew what she had to do. It was the only thing she could do now.
“Llwyd,” she whispered. The name sent a thrill through her, from now on, she would be the only one to call him that. He ignored her for a moment, and then looked at her again. She touched her nose to his gently.
“I have something for you,” she said softly. “If you want it now.”
His mane fell into his eyes, hiding the expression in them for a moment. “What?”
Slowly, she moved her paws, uncovering what she had been hiding from him. He looked down, and his whole body went still, so still that she had to reach out and touch to him make sure that he was still with her. Perhaps it had been too soon. It was too late to hide it now.
The kingfisher feathers, battered and covered in blood, lay on the dusty ground between them, the long revered sign of the king.
She didn’t know what to say, how to make him feel better. “Llwyd?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, extending a paw to draw the feathers closer to him, turning them over to hide the bloodstains.
“Can you, Gryffy?”
She nodded, and reached out to tuck the feathers carefully in his mane. She knew that they were old, had once been their founder’s feathers, and the whole pride knew what they meant.
He carried the blood of all the kings before him, just as she carried the blood of all the queens. They were just what Keerva had foretold. A king of the first king, and a queen of the first queen. They were the ones to lead the pride to greatness.

March 10th: The pride had a surprise today. A litter of cubs was born, to the young lioness Neredeth. Understandably, for the cubs were certainly not Llwyd’s, she was very protective of them, snarling at any who came near her. Finally, the king himself came to see her, refusing to let anyone else in with them.
He stood at the entrance to her corner of the den, looking down on her with quiet blue eyes. “Neredeth?”
She flinched at his voice, curling around her cubs, but she didn’t snarl at him. She was only new to the pride – she hadn’t known Madigan that long or well, and she knew her new king even less.
He stepped closer to her, his gaze falling on her cubs. There were two of them, both the colour of their father and mother. One had white splashed over its feet and belly, the other didn’t.
“My-my-my king.”
He shook his head, stopping the lioness’ stammering, and crouched down near her, studying the cubs closely. Now, he could see that the white marked one was a female, which sent relief surging through him.
“They are his?” His words were gentle. He knew that she was wary of him. As well as being her first litter, they weren’t his cubs.
She nodded slowly, drawing her cubs closer to her to comfort them.
He didn’t speak again for a while, thinking. Then, he sighed, knowing that he would have to tell her.
“Neredeth, the male won’t live.”
Panic flared in her eyes, and her muscles tightened. “What do you mean?”
He searched for words to soften the blow. He didn’t really know how to explain it himself. He’d only ever heard about it during their nights of storytelling.
“It’s a legend of the pride,” he finally said, hoping to explain. “No male has survived past adolescence unless they’re of the first king’s bloodline.”
Horror flashed through her eyes this time. “They were killed?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He shrugged, his mane rippling over his shoulders. “If Keerva was here, she’d be able to explain better. The male before me died when Gryffy was born. Ensem’s brother. He’s buried in the pridegrounds.”
The dark brown lioness lowered her head to nuzzle her cubs. “But they are the old king’s,” she whispered. “Is that not the king’s line?”
Regretfully, he shook his head, settling to lie where he was crouching, making himself more comfortable. “No. My father wasn’t of the first king’s blood. He was chosen by Reale because there was no one else. None of his lionesses gave him an heir.”
“Then you are not …?” She frowned, confused, but he shook his head again.
“My mother,” he said simply. “Her father was Reale.”
“Who is she?”
“Niwlog.” He turned his head to glance out of the entrance to the den. “She’s grey, like me.”
With a final sigh, Neredeth, let her head drop. “So what will you do with him?”
He swallowed. “I can take him now,” he said quietly. “Before you grow attached. Or I can let him live, possibly in pain, until he is taken from us.”
She shivered at his words, and he watched as she closed her eyes. “I do not know. I cannot choose now.”
He rose to his feet, turning to leave. His tail brushed over her as he moved, lingering on the female. “I can’t let you have long to decide, Neredeth. If you wish me to take him, it must be before you form a close bond. It would be too hard on you otherwise.”
He left before she could answer him.