(( note: other cubs could have been listening into this RP))
They were little over a week old – the golden cub and his brothers and sisters – yet, even at a young age he was quick to pick up on things. Even when he’d been blind to the world he’d sensed that something was not quite right. That he was treated differently.
His eyesight was a new and wondrous thing, though a little fuzzy, but this gift had only heightened the cub’s sense of unease.
The first thing that had told the cub that something was not quite right was the fact that he hadn’t been named. Of course, he had no proof of this. There wasn’t anything to say that he hadn’t been named, but if he had, he didn’t know what it was. He’d heard the soft, hoarse voice of his mother soothing his brothers and sisters with the word that they had associated as the one that identified them. A word that made them unique from other cubs.
The golden cub yearned to know what his name was but had no words in which to ask. So, he huddled in the darkness of his den nursing the cold sadness in his heart.
Now, however, he sat a little apart from his brothers and sisters. In the den it was hard to tell who was who. His mother and father were very different. Even when he hadn’t been able to see he’d known the difference between the two. However, from here, the backs of his siblings were only a dark grey or a paler grey. He’d soon learn that these shades, under the sun, were shades of red and white. But here in this world everything was a different shade of grey.
He glanced down at his own yellow forelegs and wondered why his shade of grey looked different from his siblings.
There was a squeak from one of the cubs and the nameless one looked up, startled to see the one glowing beacon that was his mother’s one good eye. It was lit with fire from a shaft of sunlight streaming in from the entrance to the ‘upper world.’ He’d grown to love and fear those odd eyes; one bright and one dark. They were terrifyingly expressive. It was as if he knew her exact thoughts by looking into them. Even when he’d been blind he’d known what she had been thinking or feeling by the tension in her body or the sound of her voice. That glittering eye stared at him and for a moment the cub felt connected to her for the first time in his short life.
Then, a moment later, she’d glanced away and the cub felt a great pang of rejection.
“Rap…” Her voice was soft but sad today. She shifted on her side and nudged her little ones, seeking to find who was awake and who was dozing. Rap, her eldest son, was awake. He’d been trying to wriggle past one of his brother’s to make for an early lunch. However, he’d been unable to squeeze past and the irritation was evident on his little face.
Ripuka tenderly lifted him and sat him near her forepaws. Then, after a moment of quiet purring, she began to wash his little face, smiling as he scrunched his nose up and mewed. “Let your brothers and sisters alone for a minute.” She spoke after a long moment, letting her eyes flicker briefly to her golden son.
It was hard to look at him. She wouldn’t admit it, but it was. He stood for the end of her faith. He stood for the end of everything she had once believed in. He was proof that she had been wrong in her chosen path. He was…gold.
She felt like she was reliving the past again. Reliving the terrible moment when she’d been forced with the decision to abandon Azarax. She was frightened of what the future held for him and her. She could not leave the boy here, she knew that. She had to take him across to the Simo. She was afraid that they would kill her on sight. If not, and she got to their lands unharmed, she was afraid what Azarax would say.
She’d not seen him since that day she’d almost been killed…
She turned her attention back to her son; the son that looked so like her mate. She smiled sadly.
“Would you like to hear a story, Rap?” She cast a glance to the gold. “And you, son?”
The little cub’s ears drooped.
Rap had a name. He was Rap. If he’d been the type to live in denial he’d have adopted his name by now. He’d have called himself Son, as that was what Ripuka always referred to him as. But he wasn’t stupid. He’d heard that word spoken to Rap and the other boys. Son, he knew, meant male child, just as daughter meant female child.
He was…a male child, nothing more and nothing less.
He gave a soft little mew and finally dared to move closer.
The cub was still very clumsy on his tiny legs. He crawled on his belly, using his legs to pull himself towards where his mother and brother were. Despite his feeling of abandonment he still loved his family and he wanted to hear the story.
Under normal circumstances Ripuka would have told her children a story about the Great Firekin and their ancestry. The creation of the Firekin was one of her most famous and well-known stories. It was also the first story she had told her first litter; Kidondo too when he’d been a little furball himself. But she would not tell these children the story. In fact she wasn’t going to tell them any story that included Finar-Si.
She knew that raising her children here would mean that they would eventually find out about the Goddess. But they wouldn’t hear it from her. She’d be the neutral mother, neither encouraging or discouraging. She’d let them make up their own minds. On one side she hoped, with all her heart, that they would turn from Finar-Si and not waste their lives trying to make an unworthy Goddess happy. Yet, at the same time, she knew that rejecting the idea of Finar-Si would put them in danger. No, whether she liked it or not, they’d have to at least accept the Goddess whilst they lived here.
Her eyes flickered once again to the golden child moving slowly up towards them.
Her heart ached.
“This…” She began in a solemn voice, “is a story about a traitorous prince.”
She drew in a deep breath and after a moment she reached out and hugged her two sons to her. She would trust that any other cubs awake would listen too.
The nameless cub met his brother’s eyes.
His brother. The cub he wrestled with to get at the nutritious food. The cub he cuddled up with for a warm sleep. A cub he had never spoken to with words but understood entirely. With his siblings, at least, the cub didn’t feel like an outsider.
Rap mewed and the nameless cub settled in against his mother’s chest, curled lovingly in the crook of her forearm.
This was the first time his mother had properly hugged him.
This was better than any story.
He knew then, no matter how old he got, he’d never forget this moment.
“There was once a proud and brilliant king. His fur was the royal red of his famous line. His mane was black as the night and his eyes were as golden as the desert surrounding his home. Those who were loyal to him could rely on his strength and wisdom and love him for the true king that he was. Those that disobeyed or displeased him would have an enemy for life. For though he was wise he was cruel, too. But this cruelty was expected of him. He flourished best when he was punishing others, especially those who were below even his own loyal subjects. These were called slaves and these were creatures who were barely even lions in his eyes. No. They were possessions.
“One day this proud king of the desert sired a son, his heir to the throne. His son, the prince, was an odd sort. He was not violent like his father. In fact he seemed the complete opposite. He was noble, yes, but he was calm and thoughtful. Emotion seemed to come hard to him. He would look at everyone with that same blank stare, giving nothing away of what he might be thinking. Yet he loved his father and his father loved him.
“So, the Red King and the Red Prince, were closer than many fathers and sons.”
She paused and dipped her nose a little.
“One morning one of the lionesses of the pride turned her anger on a slave. The slave, who belonged to the Red King, had disobeyed and needed to be put back in her place. However, before the lioness could loose her claws, the Red Prince stepped in and rescued the slave from harm. He told the lioness that she had no right to hurt his father’s slave and that if she had wronged it would be his father who would punish her.” Ripuka could remember that event as if it had been yesterday.
“It was unknown then, but the Red Prince did not see slaves as weak creatures, rather, he saw them as equals and in some cases his superior. This was the first sign that the prince was slowly turning against the traditions. You see, children, the pride he had been born into was an elitist pride. This meant that they saw themselves higher than any other creature on the savannah. To them any lion or lioness who was not large or strong or was a different colour to their own strict colours was deemed inferior. In fact, any lion that was not of their blood was looked down upon, this included half-bloods. The Red Prince looked around him and saw that his pride’s traditions were going to be the end of them. Because they refused to fall in love with any but those who were true blood lions, cubs were becoming rarer. Eventually this would mean no new lions to continue the pride. So, in an attempt to help his pride the Red Prince slipped off into the outside lands to find out for himself what outsider lions were really like.
“Well, no one knows what happened on his journey out in those lands, but whatever it was the Red Prince came back as determined as ever to try and save his people from their doom. To do that, however, he had to help them see that outsiders were not weaker than they were. When he returned to the lands he came with another. The Red Prince said that he’d met her out in the lands and decided to bring her back as his personal slave. No one questioned him. His slave was a black cat. Just black. Not a marking to be seen on her.
“It was maybe a week later when the terrible event happened.”
She paused and glanced between her two sons. They were gazing up at her with their very different eyes. Rap had his mother’s eyes, eyes of fire. The gold had his father’s eyes. Green. Green as the lands outside of the desert…
She shook her head to scatter the thoughts and continued.
“The Red King went in search for his son. He was very proud of the prince and he wanted it known to all. However, he was in for a nasty surprise. He walked into his son’s den to find him with the black cat. It was clear, from their hushed words and actions that they were not master and slave. They were companions, perhaps even in love. In that moment, struck with anger and terrible pain, the Red King lashed out at his son. Another moment later and the prince and his companion were out in the open and the whole pride came to witness this terrible moment. The King, betrayed by the son he loved, could not bear to kill him. Instead he banished the prince and told him never to return. The Red Prince did as he was told but not before speaking his mind. He warned the listeners that their faith would mean their doom. That sooner or later all of them would be old and no cubs would be left. Maybe some listened and agreed, in fact I know some agreed. But many also disagreed and they watched the prince leave in disgrace, angry and hurt as their King had been.
“Well…a few months later the Red Prince did return. But not alone. He came with his mate, the black cat, and many other outsiders. These rogues were strong and able and all bore red and black as their pelts. They were not true-bloods but they were every bit as fierce. The Red Prince gave the pride a last chance to see the error of their ways. At that moment some of the pride sided with him and those who stayed loyal to traditions were suddenly faced with the prospect of fighting their friends. Family was turned against family, friend against friend, and in the battle that spread through the pride the Red Prince challenged the Red King to a duel. And so they fought. It was a vicious battle, or so they say, and after a bloody duel the Red Prince stood victorious over his father’s body.
“The battle was won.”
She lifted her eyes and gazed to that thin stretch of light pooling in to warm her face. “Those who would not accept rogues took off across the lands and the Red Prince and his followers remained.” There was much more to it than that. The giving up on religion, the refusal of Finar-Si, the stopping of slaves. The Firekin had always been a prideful race. Too proud, Ripuka would now admit.
“They say that all is well in the land of the Red Prince. They say he is a good king and those who chose change are happy. And that is the story of the Traitorous Prince.”
She glanced between the faces of her children, that sad smile still on her face. She had told the story as if it had happened long ago, as if it were nothing more than a tale woven for cubs. The fact was, it had happened and it had only been a few months ago.
She rubbed her face against Rap’s in an attempt to comfort herself then pushed them both away a little.
“Go on then. Let your mother rest.”
The gold, nameless cub stared at his mother. He watched as she set her head on her paws and closed her eyes. He did not know that the scars on her face were left from a battle fought in that very story. He did not know the heart ache that the story had brought her. He also had no idea that he’d end up in the rebel’s pride – for a short part of his life in any case.
He met his brother’s eyes as Rap wriggled past to pull himself up to his mother’s stomach but he did not follow. Instead he turned to watch his mother, waiting patiently for her breathing to even out with sleep.
As he waited he thought about the story that he had just heard. He wasn’t sure he truly understood. It was about a lion who had done something bad and upset his father. Then he had ended up killing his father but it had been a good thing.
If he’d had a chance to stay with the family he’d have heard that story again when he was older and understood it. But for now it left muddled images in his head. Yet, as he tottered towards his sleeping mother he realised that he would treasure that story and the hug she had shared with him for that brief period of time.
He pulled himself up to lie against her face and she stirred, moving to rest her cheek against his side. He buried his face against her neck and settled down to sleep.
And as he closed his eyes to sleep his dreams were filled with red lions in a land of grey. Red lions standing side by side, red lions fighting, red lions embracing to share their victory.
