#pride lore

Training is important. Ashvin and Inanna knew this. It had been drilled into their heads by the time they were old enough to comprehend the words. They were useless if they weren’t strong, if they showed a moment of weakness. If they showed any emotion at all.

Currently, they were both covered in minor scratches, standing across the training room from each other. Ashvin, heir apparent, watched her with hesitance, feeling his father’s glare bore into his skull.

Kill her, Orriande’s words echoed, prove you’re strong enough to be King, that nothing would limit you. It was a perfect opportunity. She had been beaten earlier in the day, and was weak and injured. He could pounce on her and snuff the life out of her with his paw, all while she wouldn’t know what was going on until she was already dying.

“I’m taking a break.” Ashvin’s words are punctuated by him simply walking away from the training cave, out into the early morning air. He had barely been training that day.

Orriande cast a glare to his daughter. “Stay here.” With that, he stomps out after Ashvin, watching as the adolescent simply walks through the field that makes up their home. “Ashvin!”

The young prince simply stops in his tracks, but he doesn’t turn around to face Orriande. “Yes, father?”

“What do you think you’re doing? Is it your goal to make an embarrassment of our pride?” Every single word is spoken with an accusatory jab. Orriande walks closer, until he’s inches away from his son’s face. Ashvin squares his jaw, focusing on the king’s eyes. “Answer me!”

“No, father. I’m not trying to embarrass our people or you.”

He narrows his eyes. “Then do what I tell you. One, small thing is separating you from your destiny, your purpose. Why are you hesitating?”

Ashvin can already imagine Inanna’s terrified eyes as he pins her down. He can imagine the sputtering attempt for her to convince him not to go through with it. “I won’t kill her.” The sheer determination in his eyes made Orriande huff in anger. “I won’t be like you.”

“I ask you to do one thing… and you can’t even do that! One damn thing, Ashvin!” Ashvin looks away, not wanting to deal with his father’s rage. The shouting brings annoyed lionesses out of their caves and various hiding places, and they watch in awe at the young prince.

He doesn’t speak, not for a long time. “I said I won’t do it!” His loud shout is punctuated by a heavy slap, tearing into fur and skin. Orriande roars in shock, but he kicks nearby dirt up, blinding his son. Ashvin shuts his eyes, crying out in the sheer surprise of Orriande fighting back. The king raises his paw, slamming it into the side of Ashvin’s face. He does it again, giving him a smack on the neck, pinning the prince down-

“Enough!” A lioness, named Athena, one of many who raised the prince, steps forward, covering the young adolescent with her body. “You’ve done enough.”

She could see the anger spread across his face at her disobedience. “Move and let me finish the job!” Orriande’s voice is more of a growl than it is a sentence, but Athena sets her jaw, glaring down at the king.

“You’ll have to get through me, first.” At her words, Orriande roars, right in her face, but all she does is narrow her eyes. He turns around, going back to the training room that Inanna was now staring out of, her jaw slack and eyes wide.

"Freydis..." Eloise puffed, out of breath. Her shoulders shook in exhaustion and sweat rolled down her shoulders. The brightly coloured lioness approached her Queen quickly, without regard for any formal greeting. "Sylvie reported strange creatures down by the waterfall cave yesterday at dusk-""What was she doing down by the waterfall?" Freydis interrupted, getting up from the rock she had been so contently sunbathing on. 

He’d spent his days in the desert, miles away from his pride, stalking prey more for the satisfaction of having something to bite and claw at than any desire to eat. Sunset saw him stretched out against the rapidly cooling sands with a pleasant ache in his muscles and a head full of decidedly unpleasant thoughts. At home the lionesses were likely returning with their kills about this time of day, which he would oversee before they could be distributed to those who needed food most - the warriors, the hunters, his most trusted defenders - and the scraps passed around to the rest.

His son had always disagreed with him on this, like everything else. The younger Diomedes was alike in name and appearance to his father, but any resemblances halted when it came to the young heir’s ideas about holding the throne. He wanted to feed older lions and mothers first, so that they might be content while his guard and workers suffered for his soft heart. And for what? Such lazy lions provided little in the way of profits or protection for the pride, so why should they take their choice of the haul? It was softhearted foolishness like this that made Diomedes doubt his son’s ability to ever be king of their pride.

As much as he had seen himself in his son when he had named the cub his heir years ago, his adolescence had washed any similarities away. He had put his lions in the paws of one who valued kindness over the pride’s own survival in his absence, and every time he returned, it showed - his lionesses, who once bowed respectfully to his approach, now lazed about in the sun. Those who failed to bring in their worth in kills received a pat on the back as they ensured the prides future starvation. No, his son was not like him at all. He must have taken his leadership ideas from the old fool King Polynices, as much good as that had done him, dying while Diomedes himself was still a cub.

The more he considered the state of his pride, the more he knew he had to return, if only to do something about his heir’s weakness. If his son would not lead the pride to glory, then he would bring them ever closer to destruction, a fate Diomedes would never allow to befall the pride he had worked so hard to build up.

Diomedes returned to his pride with the sunrise, cresting the hill silhouetted by its light and heat. He paid little attention to the congregation of elder lions laying in the soft grasses, digging his claws into the ground in disgust. Sloth and gluttony plagued his pride, and seeing its results convinced him even further that his new resolve was just. With a snarl, he bit out to the nearby lions, “where is my son?”

He didn’t have to wait long after for the boy to turn up, likely noticing all the commotion. His son sprang forward with perked ears and bright eyes at seeing him, and thought Diomedes stared at a lion whose appearance hardly differed from him own, he could hardly feel less estranged. His son made an attempt to press under his chin in greeting, but Diomedes gave a derisive snort and backed away, noticing the half-second of drooping ears before the boy recovered.

“I have been gone for quite some time, but no more,” he began, gaze cool and detached. “I have decided to stay and correct certain mistakes I have made.”

Murmurs spread through the assembled crowd like wildfire. It was his heir who finally brought himself to question, “what do you mean by mistakes?”

Diomedes laughed something dark and cold. “This pride has grown weak in my absence. I suppose that was my fault. After all, I had poor judgment, and put the wrong lion in charge. Now, however, I can see my mistakes, and I am going to correct them.” He fixed burning eyes on the boy. “Starting with you.”

Alarm flashed over his son’s features and he took a hesitant step back. Then it seemed he changed his mind, padding forward once more and growling low in his throat. “Why can’t you just listen to me? Your methods put the whole pride in danger! That’s-” he paused to look around at the faces of the lionesses in the crowd, twisted in fear and shock. “I can’t let you do this.”

“Now now Junior... don’t disobey your father.”

He received a snarl in response, the younger lion biting out, “don’t call me that! I share your name, your blood. But I haven’t been anyone’s junior in a long time, least of all yours as you abandoned your pride these past months. And I refuse to stand down to you.”

“Then you are a fool!” Diomedes launched himself forward, claws extended and teeth bared, and father and son locked in battle. When he had left he had far outmatched his son in strength, but the boy was a cub no longer, and could hold his own for much longer against stronger opponents now. Finally the two broke apart, panting and bleeding but no less ready to renew the fight again.

A cry of “stop, please!” tore them from their circling to pin matching gazes on the lioness who had interrupted them. One of the huntresses, Iphigenia, stood midways between them, looking frantically between the two. “Please, we can’t bear to see a fight between King and heir, father and son go on any longer. You are our King, but he will be as well. Can’t you see that his methods might not all be so bad? Didn’t you once love a King who showed mercy to those who needed it?” Behind her the other hunters nodded their agreement.

Diomedes roared at the mention of Polynices. “His mercy got him killed when I- when we needed him most! Can’t you see that the only thing that comes from mercy is weakness? If not, perhaps you deserve to share his fate.” He spun to face Iphigenia, lashing out at the young and impulsive lioness. But the hunters, as hesitant as they had been to get involved before, could not tolerate one of their own being hurt, and leaped to Iphigenia‘s defense. Their weight dragged him down and pinned him against the grass so that he could just lift his head. He was exhausted from the earlier battle, and could not find the strength to throw them off himself.

Instead, he cast his gaze to his son, who stood watching from above. “Well?” he demanded, “Do you expect me to plead for mercy? No, I will not beg to a coward, and you may drive me out but I will always return. If you wish me to no longer hold kingship, you’ll have to kill me yourself. What do you say Junior, can you kill your own father?”

Diomedes took one look at the regret painted over his son’s face and knew he had won. The boy would show mercy, even if it was the far worse option and would get him killed. He was too weak to do what needed to be done and this just proved it. And when he signaled for the lionesses to retreat, he would take the boy by surprise.

He waited, but no signal came. His son’s face darkened. “Don’t call me that,” he repeated, more of a growl than anything, and stepped close to Diomedes’ prone form. It was just a scare tactic. A warning, and an unconvincing one at that. Any moment now he would be released.

He was not released. His son lunged forward, jaws parted wide, teeth burying themselves into Diomedes’ throat.

“And remember, my darling,” Orriande whispered, holding his sulking daughter’s face with his paw, “You must be willing to do whatever it takes to stamp out weakness. I hope today’s demonstration made you realize that.”

She thinks back to watching her brother groan in the dirt, blood covering his face, and nods. “Yes, father. I understand.”

————

This dinner was tense, Inanna decided. She had barely even touched her portion of the cow she was given, instead watching the other lioness who was digging in. As she was about to stop, the lioness looked up. “Is the cow not satisfactory? I can bring you something else.”

“It’s... it’s fine.” Her voice is razor thin, and she tries to look anywhere else but the lioness in front of her.

The lioness grins. “It’s from some of the best huntresses in the world, Princess. They remind me of the lionesses from your pride, actually.” The words were not in the least bit comforting, but Inanna was quick to realize they weren’t meant to be. “A shame that pride fell...”

It brought a sick feeling to Inanna’s stomach, and the tigon pushed away her meal. “Why are you doing this?” Her face is twisted in anger. “What do you have to gain?”

“What do I have to gain?” The way she says it is numb, almost like she has never thought about the answer to that question before. “More territory? A prosperous pride? The truth, Inanna, is I have little to gain from your pride that I don’t already have.” She raises to her paws, crossing the small gap, and standing over Inanna. “But you... you fascinate me. You were your father’s clear favorite, the heir apparent, and you let Ashvin take the throne. Inanna, imagine what a pride under your paws could do. It would be unbeatable.”

Inanna stares straight ahead, careful not to make eye contact. “I’m not one for diplomacy. He is.”

“That explains the scars, then.” The lioness’s tone is cold and neutral, but it doesn’t stop the creeping feeling of fear. “Orriande was never one for for anything but brute strength. I suppose you have that in droves. All brawn, and no brains?”

There’s no answer. Inanna bites her lip, swallowing. “I wonder how quickly he’ll fold. I heard there’s a new niece... or should I go for the boyfriend?” The threat, both at Rosalind and V’kai, brought forth a boldness Inanna didn’t know she had.

“What do you want from me?” Inanna finally manages, her voice a weak croak. “It has to be something.”

“I want you in my pride. No strings attached, I’m not one for a lioness. But we could do so much more with someone like you training our teams, leading our attacks.” She sits down, staring down into Inanna’s eyes. “You could be what your father wanted you to be.”

She looks away, turning to the treeline, seeing lions lined up. She wasn’t leaving here. Not without her. “Okay,” She whispered, “On one condition.”

“Whatever you wish for,” The lioness speaks, earnest.

“My brother, my daughter- you won’t touch them. If you do... I’ll kill you.” It was an empty threat. Inanna knew that before she could even leap forward, one of the lioness’s guards would tackle her and gore her on the ground. “Promise me you’ll leave my brother alone.”

The lioness grins, raising back to her full height. “My dear, you have my word. As long as you serve me, your brother will make it out of this alive.”

“You have to be stronger than the others, be willing to do whatever it takes to keep your pride, your family, safe.”