#130713
View 's Pride

Lion Stats
Experience
19366 / 15840 (100%)
Level 13
Strength 71 Speed 79
Stamina 68 Smarts 83
Agility 73 Skill 78
Total Stats: 452


Lion Currents
Age 4 years, 11 months old
Hunger
20%
Energy 100 / 100
Impression
Dreamboat
Personality
Mysterious (Neutral)
Breeding Info
Father Unknown Mother Echicha View Full Heritage
Last Bred N/A Fertility N/A View All Cubs Bred (7)
Appearance Markings
Base Nuummite (Dusky Skin) Slot 1: Feralis Henna (20%) Tier 6
Slot 2: Vitiligo 2 (55%) Tier 2
Slot 4: Sunset Feralis (50%) Tier 3
Slot 6: Vitiligo 3 (100%) Tier 2
Slot 9: Vitiligo 1 (100%) Tier 2
Genetics Black Dark Solid Special
Eyes Jasper
Mane Type Crested
Mane Color Celestial
Mutation None
Marking Slots
10
Equipped Decorations
Snowy Mountain Top

Above
Ear Tufts [White]
Jewelry: Labradorite Pendant
Maned Elbows [White]
Expression: Shy Groupie
Jackal Pelt
Rabbit Fur Cloak
Sleeping Fawn
Fluffy Cheeks [White]
Feather Eyelashes [Spectre]
Lab Test Frog
Jewelry: Peridot Nose Chain [Silver]
Cold Breath
Snow Flurries

Below
Atlas Cedar Tree
Lifetime
Attacks Defended 12 Explore Steps Taken 6351 NPCs Defeated 302
Lions Sent Away 0 Lions Killed 0
Studding Services
This male lion is offering studding services, for a price of 300 SB. Lionesses must have a minimum of 1% fertility to breed.

This male lion has 15/15 studding slots left open this week.

* Selecting an item to send with the request will remove the item from your hoard and apply it to the stud if your request is accepted. If your request is removed or denied for any reason the item will be returned to you. Multiple items can be sent at the same time providing they do not cancel each other out in their effects.

* Breeding to a mutated stud does not affect your chances of conceiving a mutated cub unless the stud is a variation of piebald or primal.
Biography
Bought 9/21/18 at 80 stats
Kinged 9/23/18 at 110 stats.
3 yrs 7 mos: 331 stats
4 yrs 1 mo: 392 stats

@eli solanio, calling upon her 34287 gfs and the goddess of war she's banging on the side; "who hurt my child"
By Sol 🌈 #HarveyIsDadNotDaddy @ 2018-09-14 16:54:16

Expenses:
Stud Fee for Litter: 300 SB
Dust: Nuumite: Event Participation
RMAS Used Trying to Get Vit 1 Slot 1: 23
Marking Removers Used Trying to Get Vit 1 Slot 1: 12
RNGesus, if you're reading this, please have mercy on my soul.
Opacity Changer: 1800 SB
Opacity Changer: 1800 SB
Aging Crystal: 500 SB
Peridot Chain (Silver): 500 SB
Ear Tufts (White): 2 GB
Fluffy Cheeks (White): 500 SB
Pose: Kind: 1 GB
Maned Elbows (White): 2 GB
Cub Sex Changer: 1 GB
Lab Test Frog: stolen from my side king lmao
Other Decor: Event Participation
Haark's Early Retirement: 10 GB
Retirement & Heritageless Rep (thanks, heritage "fix"): 15 GB + 150 SB
Skin Changer: uhhhhhh?

CONTENT WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

Haarkon was intrigued by the tiny cub when he came back from one of his long journeys. His pets, his beloved scorpions, covered his body and sparse mane, clinging with their claws and spindly little legs to the surfaces they could find. Stalking through the darkness of Frío's lush grove, a horrible grin spread across Haarkon's muzzle as he saw his lionesses stiffen in his presence. They pretended to be asleep, that it was a cold wind that made them pull their cubs closer. The reality was, as they knew, far worse.

The bastard king pawed at the sleeping form of every mother until they were forced to release their cubs. He inspected them, and if they didn't meet some arbitrary standard he set for them, he would pick them up and carry them away. Often, pained mewls could be heard from outside the grove, and Haarkon would come back to rake his cold, calculating gaze over the remaining cubs with blood on his breath and chunks of fresh, tender meat in his teeth. He didn't care if his lionesses cried, honestly, but they didn't dare make a sound in his ghastly presence.

On this night, the horrible king and the cold wind that accompanied him were benign... except towards one cub. He deliberated a long time, looking at the sleeping newborn with interest nothing more than scientific. "So this is what he was talking about," Haarkon had muttered, disturbingly bemused, before skulking away.

Tonight, this mother sobbed as her tiny children slept between her front paws and under her head, the safest place she could bear to put them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hygeru, the king preceding him, was in Haarkon's thoughts tonight. He had believed, in the delirium of old age, that there was a perfect lion that it was his duty to strive towards. White dotting the back and paws of this lion, like snowflakes, Hygeru had said, would make them distinct. Their coat underneath would look starry, but with all the colour of a forest with its underbrush aflame, and their eyes would be like a pond where the only life was fireflies. He had promised to look out for this lion, and while Haarkon didn't care for anyone but himself, he recalled that the reason the mad Hygeru had chosen him to rule in his stead rather than his own son, Frío, was to progress towards the newborn that now lay in the grass just metres away from him. In an uncharacteristic moment of... not warmness, lukewarmness at best, perhaps, he rose from his spot and returned with the cub moments later. Frío raised his head and gave him a curious look that Haarkon returned with a snarl. As the king returned to his sleeping spot and turned away from him, there was the unmistakable sound of a tongue scraping roughly over soft fur.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Every day after that, Haarkon would visit the cub. He would watch quietly, his ever-present pets clambering over his fur, as the cub played with their siblings and their mother tried her hardest to ignore the cold, suffocating smog of his presence, trying not to think of all the horrible things the lion do to her innocent little ball of fur. Every day, he would creep towards the cub and pull them aside for private lessons. Every time he returned, they would receive the best toys. Every lesson, he would look at them with the eyes of a king evaluating his heir. Though they showed the physical traits of both a lion and lioness, Haarkon didn't care. Though the king was middle-aged at the oldest, he decided that this cub showed the traits needed to care for his pride once he was gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In the middle of the night, when the cub had freshly learned how to string words together into full sentences, they came waddling into Haarkon's paws. "Dad," the cub mewled, although Haarkon didn't know how they'd learned that word, "I had a weird dream."

Haarkon yawned. "I am NOT your father. Why did you wake me up for this?" he said, showing his teeth and making the little lion whimper.

"There was white in the sky and I was scared and nobody was around even though I yelled and I was cold and I was really high up!" Haarkon blinked at the cub incredulously, which they seemed to interpret as encouragement.

"Then, all of a sudden, I grew a bunch of fur and I was really big! And then I saw this really big lion coming up to me who had a deep voice but no mane, like you! But his fur was really thick, and he used a lot of weird words, but he called me something like Veh-their-foal-near?" Haarkon had to process each syllable individually to decipher the toddler-speak.

Veðrfölnir was the name Hygeru had given to his "perfect" lion, Haarkon realized. One of the older lionesses must have told the cub about the mad old king, and he would have to discipline all of the old hags. The lion huffed a sigh of displeasure, but he couldn't deny that the more he thought about it, the more the name suited the cub.

"A good name for you. Hm. Veðrfölnir."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Haarkon absentmindedly watched his scorpions swarm over the dying form of a mongoose, ear flicking back as the sound of crunching vegetation hit it. "I thought I told you to avoid the dead grass," the lion growled. More rustling, followed by hesitant footsteps. "Sorry, Dad."

The king looked expressionlessly at the five-month-old, who averted their gaze. "I just wanted to... talk about something."

Haarkon raised his eyebrows, gesturing for the cub to continue.

"I... uh... um..."

"You know how to speak."

Veðrfölnir looked down ashamedly. "Everyone else is making fun of me, Dad. They all call me 'it' and..." the cub started to sniffle, "...they're just really mean."

Haarkon's face hardened, eyes narrowing. "Come here."

When the sobs let up a bit and the fur on his leg was almost entirely covered in snot, Haarkon turned the cub's attention to the now-dead mongoose and the scorpions devouring it.

"Over my years, I have heard many fools say that the strong will always attack the weak. Look at how much larger this mongoose is than these scorpions. Before now, the mongoose ate them. It showed weakness, and so the scene before us came to be."

The king looked at the cub between his front legs. "The weak are the ones that prey on the strong, come the opportunity, be one lion, lioness, neither, or both. Do you understand?" Veðrfölnir nodded, starting to cry again, and Haarkon used his tongue to coldly scrub the tears from their eyes before picking them up and bringing them back to their mother and giving her a hearty smack on the face for letting the future ruler out of her sight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As time passed, Veðrfölnir grew into their body, never forgetting the lesson Haarkon had taught them. They showed no weakness, though they were still insecure, and if someone insulted them, no matter their aggressor's size or age, Veðrfölnir would use their teeth and claws to discourage such behaviour. The lionesses were too afraid of Haarkon to correct his heir, although many sent disapproving glares their way when they were sure the king wasn't looking.

On a particularly bad day, the teenager was approached by a number of their peers at once.

"There you are, he-she! How do you think it'll go trying to take all of us in at once, huh? Let's see if you turn into a lioness in the face of power!"

An young male flicked his thin mane towards the end of his humorous exclamation, earning a laugh from the other young lions and a glare from the young lionesses. The lanky teens shut up after they realized the females outnumbered them.

Veðrfölnir knew that they were at a disadvantage, and, as such, opted to feign unbridled rage so as to make their opponents underestimate them. Haarkon was no coward, but he was no idiot, and he had trained his heir to be the same.

The adolescent stayed on the defensive and gradually backed away enough to give their enemies a sense of advantage, cockiness. When at last they went on the offensive, however, Veðrfölnir found that their aggressors were far smarter than they had taken them for.

Pinned down by one of the heavier males, the rest of the group circled around Haarkon's heir with perverse interest.

"I wonder how all of that works," said one of the lionesses, considering Veðrfölnir's hind end. Anger flashed in the dark lion's eyes as the congregation whispered and muttered, but when a curious paw grazed their thigh, the adolescent shuddered and bunched their muscles to slip laterally from the grasp that held them. The lion on top of them brought his paws down harshly on where Veðrfölnir had just been, leaving an opening that allowed his victim to scratch at his belly with their back claws, which, in turn, made another opening in his defense that allowed Veðrfölnir to orient themselves in a position to rake their claws painfully down his belly, which released enough blood to cause the rest of the group to freeze in place.

At least, that's what they intended to do.

In the struggle to simultaneously reorient themselves and position their claws correctly, Veðrfölnir caught the lion by the delicate skin under his tail, and as their claws progressed through the path of least resistance, the lion's now-fragile belly skin gave way immediately after, brutally disemboweling him.

The entire gathering froze as he fell to the ground, sputtering with the shock. A few of them felt acid and bile rise in their throats and turned their backs as quickly as possible, while others vomited on the spot. The remainder simply ran, save for one individual still locked in shaky opposition. As soon as Veðrfölnir moved to untangle themselves from the mess of organs they found themself under, however, this lion's legs buckled beneath him, leaving the final spectator of the event in a crumpled heap.

The other lion, despite now having a significant portion of what nature intended to be on the inside outside of him, was still awake, whimpering whenever Veðrfölnir made the slightest movement. It was uncomfortable for the both of them, but when the lion weakly mouthed a few words, it was insufferable.

"Please... don't leave."

Veðrfölnir left.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This awful day was also turning out to be a hot one. Perfect. Just perfect.

Veðrfölnir hated the heat, so they had decided to navigate their way to a nearby river that drained into a waterhole. The river was too shallow to drink from right now, even though dry season had just begun.

"Why would I do that? I can barely kill a mouse without feeling bad for it..." the young lion muttered to themself, tears welling up in their eyes as they walked.
"What am I? Does it even matter? Nobody's ever going to respect me after this. I can't lead a pride." These thoughts, and the action of saying them aloud, made the tears come more freely.

By the time they reached the waterhole, hot tears made trails down Veðrfölnir's face, adding to the discomfort of the noonday sun. Hot, upset, and exhausted, the adolescent walked into the cool water and lay down on the bank to rest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next thing they knew, a someone was dragging their cold, wet body through the dust. "No..." Veðrfölnir whimpered, only half awake. "Let me go..."

The young lion was lowered, and they felt the teeth that were on their scruff lift away.

"Are you alright?" a calm, effeminate voice asked. Veðrfölnir opened their eyes to see a piebald lioness with reddish fur standing slightly away from them. The variations in her coat sparkled in the light spilling over the horizon, making Veðrfölnir's mouth open a bit. "Am I... dreaming?" they asked, feeling like a young cub in her powerful presence.

The lioness guffawed. "Only if I am, too! I came to the watering hole to get a drink before I go to sleep, though, so that's likely not the case."

She looked at the still-gawking teenager, her eyes somehow softening even more. "I'm Sappho."


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but what were you doing freezing to death on the bank of the waterhole?" The lioness had generously offered to have Veðrfölnir as a guest in her pride for the night, and though they were shivering, they politely declined. As they began to shakily move in the direction they thought they came from, Sappho had gently corrected them and insisted she walk them home. The pair had paused to let Veðrfölnir groom their still-wet fur.

"I... I really fucked up."

Sappho's fur bristled, and Veðrfölnir cowered in fear, ears back against their head. "Did Haarkon tell you to do something bad?! I'll punt him off a cliff if he did! Having cubs do his dirty work, pah! This is a new low, even for him!" The young lion had never seen pacing and tail-swishing like that before.

"No... it wasn't Dad."

Sappho paused. "Did you just call him... 'Dad'?"

Veðrfölnir nodded, starting to rise. "He's... He's taught me a lot, but this was an accident."

Sappho calmed down as the cub explained that their peers hated them for the way they were born, the scorpions and the mongoose, the gore of the morning, and following the river until they collapsed at the edge of the waterhole in the sweltering heat.

When they were done, she gestured for the heir to walk with her. "I'm afraid Haarkon was right," she said with a bowed head, "as much as I hate to admit it. We'll never be free from those awful souls, but the only reason they poison our happiness is because they don't have any of their own. All you can do is be who you know yourself to be, and you'll always be happy."

Sappho winked. "Trust me, I've lived through it all, but I was happy until I died and I'm still going strong."

"Wait... you died?"

Sappho told stories from her own life as the two went on their way, the young lion's eyes glittering with admiration the entire time. Every so often, they would stop and playfully recreate battles from her past, Veðrfölnir telling her what they would have done in each scenario.

"Haarkon's taught you well. I certainly hope you grow up to be a kinder leader than him, though," Sappho said at one point.

When Veðrfölnir and Sappho finally came upon another lion, it was, of course, one of Sappho's pridemates. Veðrfölnir heard claws scrape on a branch and turned to face whatever would have dared to harm their new friend a just a moment too late. Sappho simply braced for impact as a ginger ball of fur hurtled towards her.

Veðrfölnir snarled, claws out, and moved to stri... wait, was Sappho... laughing?

"Sol... Solanio!" Sappho mewled between fits of laughter, "let me finish the story!"

"As you wish, milady," the lioness said, giving Sappho one more long lick. She giggled at Solanio, looking over at a very confused Veðrfölnir.

"Oh, I didn't get to tell you yet! Solanio's my wife, and I'm her queen."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Veðrfölnir had never heard of a queen ruling a pride before, but then again, they'd never heard of maned lionesses, either. Sappho's misdirection was quickly forgiven as the adolescent explored a world entirely new to them - but still more comfortable than the world they left behind at the border of this pride's territory.

However, there was still an identity crisis that needed to be resolved.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Sappho?"

The queen rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with a paw, seeing her young guest standing by her in the middle of the night.

"I... really need to talk to you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I've been staying with you for... a week, now, I think, and I'd really like to thank you for all you've done to help me." Veðrfölnir took a deep breath. "I really don't want to be a burden, but I just want to ask for one more thing."

Sappho squinted - surely Haarkon hadn't taught them to take advantage of generosity. "Go on?"

"I just want to ask you what you would have said to a younger version of you when you were figuring out who you were. I mean, if you had trouble with that."

Sappho sighed and chuckled with relief. "Everyone has trouble figuring out who they are, love." The queen paused to think.

"Well, I guess the first thing I'd ask myself is if I liked lionesses."

"I guess? I've never really liked anyone before."

Sappho thought for another moment. "Well, really, I guess it's the potential for attraction and willingness to love someone of a particular gender."

Veðrfölnir flicked their tail, mulling things over.

"I think I wouldn't mind, so long as I loved them."

"That's great! All the more possibilities for love," Sappho purred. "Anything else, love?"

Veðrfölnir paused. "I... feel like I'm part lioness and part lion, in my mind. I know I'm really... both, but that doesn't... feel right."

The queen looked at her guest. "Everyone's got traits of both, mentally. It's arbitrary, really, to assign only certain traits to lionesses only and others only to lions. It really depends on what you feel like."

The young lion looked around. "I... don't really feel like a lioness. I've always wanted a mane, too. It feels weird not growing one."

"Sounds like you're going to be a great king, then," Sappho said. "There's no need to worry if you don't grow a mane. It may feel odd, but it makes you no less of a lion. It's the same with the maned lionesses you've met in my pride - they're no less lionesses than everyone else. That said, Prince Heir," the queen purred, winking, "I think you've already got a fine mane coming in."

Veðrfölnir smiled, pawing at his cheeks to fluff them up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If Haarkon knew that Veðrfölnir was still meeting Sappho to correspond with the friends he had made during his time in her pride, he didn't let on, but both still looked out for him constantly at their meetings.

Since Haarkon ruled by fear, he taught his heir all he knew about fighting, but there were still gaps in Veðrfölnir's education. Sappho began to teach the young lion the nuances of politics, which he took to like a duck to water, and sparred with him when Haarkon taught him something new that he wanted to practice. The lions his age in his pride still frowned at him and whispered behind his back, but seldom was he the victim of confrontations, especially since Sappho and Solanio had rescued him from a congregation twice the size and strength of the one that led him to their pride in the first place.

As time passed, the prince grew fluff around his neck and cheeks, and though it wasn't the most glorious of manes, he was proud of it. Veðrfölnir continued to learn from both Haarkon and Sappho as he progressed towards adulthood, and while both were proud of him, he found that Haarkon's occasional silent microexpressions of approval meant more to him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The day came when Veðrfölnir had learned all he could learn from his teachers, however. The lions and lionesses that had harassed him while he grew, he learned, Haarkon only kept in his pride to allow them to see his harsh rule firsthand before beating them within an inch of their lives and sending them off, heavily scarred and still bleeding, as messengers of his acrid personality.

Through these messengers, the king also sent word out that every lion that wished to challenge him for his pride was to set out for his territory on the next full moon. When a waning half moon hung in the sky, each aspiring challenger had arrived.

Veðrfölnir was confused as to why Haarkon would hold such a tournament when he had declared his heir long ago, but every question he asked went silently unacknowledged.

On the day of the competition, as Veðrfölnir moved to sit next to Haarkon and observe, he snarled at the young lion. The heir backed away, whispering, "What?"

The king's ceremonial bone ornaments clacked together as he curled his tail around himself, and as he spoke to Veðrfölnir, Haarkon's horned headpiece seemed to become demonic extensions of his skull. "Go." His eyes momentarily flashed with benediction contrary to his tone.

"Win."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Haarkon's favourite time of the year was, of course, championship season. He had bracketed the fights relatively fairly in a nod to the annual competition, which most were surprised about (especially Sappho, who had come for the sole purpose of supporting Veðrfölnir, though under the guise of chaperoning her own offspring as they watched the event) - the weakest lion (or the one Haarkon perceived as the weakest), for example, was pitted against the second weakest. Lionesses would fight against lions indiscriminately. The relative strength of the competitors was his only criterion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The fights took place in a copse of trees in the middle of the plains, providing both plenty of cover for the fighters and plenty of shade for the audience. Most of the fights weren't very impressive, considering the competitors were largely inexperienced young lions and lionesses with little or no training looking to strike out on their own. The rogue lions that appeared, however, were another story - they fought impressively, but weren't showy. They were almost rabid in their attacks, movements lacking calculation in favour of unpredictable, thrashing movements. Haarkon was mildly entertained by them, but not impressed. They had nothing to lose.

Veðrfölnir was pitted against the rogues in almost every bracket, always opting to taunt his enemies while staying just out of reach. Their anger always tired them out in the end, and Veðrfölnir would simply push them over and hold them down until they surrendered.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Although it was technically a tournament to the death, most of the competitors refrained from killing their opponents. For half, this was because of their own morals, but for most of the rogues it was simply to impress the despondent lionesses being offered as the winner's prize.

Veðrfölnir, as would be expected, was tired at the conclusion of the final match. Though he had dispatched the rogues and the inexperienced easily, the other skilled lions were a more even match. They were defeated with enough patience and clever footwork, that is, but they were a welcome challenge.

Veðrfölnir quite wasn't sure how he was expecting the winning ceremony to go, but he most certainly was not expecting another fight.

Especially not one against Haarkon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The king had told him that he would be allowed a rest before the closing ceremony, which would take place in the same copse of trees that had served as the battlegrounds.

Veðrfölnir was almost taken aback by Haarkon's lack of adornments as he came from the appointed combatants' area, which was no small distance away. Judging from the lack of shocked gasps from the audience as Haarkon bunched his muscles, the heir presumed that the king had told the crowd of his plans before he had arrived.

Though Veðrfölnir had barely seen a twitch, he was out of the way before Haarkon's hind paws had even cleared the ground. Having been taken off guard, he couldn't take advantage of the opening Haarkon left on his underside. Smart, but of course, he wouldn't expect anything less of his teacher.

Haarkon wasted no time in whipping around and circling the young lion. Just as he had taught his student, he waited patiently, keeping his guard up until his opponent relaxed.

Veðrfölnir had falsely relaxed, of course, and it paid off. Haarkon aimed a smack at his face, claws unsheathed, but wasn't expecting Veðrfölnir to crouch and launch himself at his neck on the upswing.

Teeth clamping down on his adoptive father's throat, the memories of all the injustices Veðrfölnir had faced in his life due to this soon-to-be-ex-king that had been slowly coming to the front of his mind consumed him. He tightened grip. The expressionless eyes he gave the other cubs that mocked him. The nonchalance he showed when he came home after the disembowelment and the only thing he said he cared about was missing a week of training. The audacity he had to surprise him with a fight...

This was a trap.

Veðrfölnir pulled his teeth away as soon as Haarkon hit the ground, moving immediately to pin him down and growl in his face.

"Kill me."

Veðrfölnir looked coldly into the Haarkon's eyes. They didn't match the mocking smirk plastered on his face. Call my bluff.

"And what purpose would that serve? I know this is a test. You're not going to make my anger get the better of me that easily, Haarkon," Veðrfölnir scoffed, stepping away.

"Good." Haarkon rolled over and sat up, announcing "As I knew would happen, my son has won."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The pride was relieved to come under the leadership of someone familiar to them, and Veðrfölnir needed little coaching to fall into the role. Haarkon observed from a distance, as he had since the new king's birth, and the new king forgave what there was to forgive, understanding that everything his predecessor had done was for a reason.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Veðrfölnir met with Sappho a few weeks after his rise to kingship for their regular correspondence, although this time it was mostly congratulations and praise.

"I'm not proud to admit it, but Solanio had to hold me back at your 'coronation,'" Sappho said, chuckling. "Grabbed me by the scruff like I was a cub. Oh, I was pissed as hell, but she said she knew it was something you had to do for yourself."

"She knows a lot of things, Sappho."

The two chatted some more, laughed, somehow managed to share even more congratulations and praise, and parted in good spirits.

As Veðrfölnir paused on his way home for a drink at the river, he pricked an ear and observed that a fair breeze whispered through the leaves of a tree atop a nearby hill. It was a warm day, he thought, yawning, and it was the perfect time for a nap.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oddly enough, the king dreamed of the very tree he was under when he fell asleep. It was misplaced, however - the familiar flat plains he had known since he was small weren't there any more, as if he had been picked up and put down in an arid, rolling desert, along with the hill he slept on.

Curious, Veðrfölnir made his way down the hill and felt the sudden transition of its cool soil to the coarse sands of the desert. A few dust storms meandered about, but nothing appeared amiss other than the misplaced landform. He did, however, sense a familiar presence.

Haarkon stood upon a great dune, looking out over the ocean of sand. Though he was far away and high above him, Veðrfölnir could see the vague shadows of arthropods slipping over his fur, becoming more distinct as the young king came closer.

When he found the foot of the dune, Veðrfölnir paused to evaluate the best way to climb up. Haarkon looked at his former heir with hollow, dark eyes, the empty sockets surprising Veðrfölnir to the point where he couldn't stop looking into them.

In his preoccupation, the new king didn't notice Haarkon sit down and turn his face to the wind. This is my final gift to you, he said, but his lips didn't move.

It wasn't until Haarkon's muzzle had become unnaturally rounded at the edges that Veðrfölnir realized the wind was pulling his father apart.

Veðrfölnir leapt up the slope, collapsing the dune and burying himself more with every attempt to brace his paws against the sand and climb upwards, and the wind pulling Haarkon apart with greater force with every second.

"No! Dad!" Veðrfölnir called out, redoubling his efforts. He kicked sand into his own face, making little progress as the wind grew stronger and blew finer sand into his eyes and lungs, each grasp at the dune sapping his energy and burying him more and more and more until he was forced to a crawl.

When Veðrfölnir at last reached the top, Haarkon's empty eyesockets still watched him, though the rest of his body only superficially resembled his former body.

The young king lurched towards his father to try and pull him out of the building sandstorm, but what was left of his predecessor burst into a cloud of dusty sand on impact, half flying into Veðrfölnir's face and the rest picked up by the wind.

Haarkon had gifted him the destruction of his greatest weakness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When he blinked, Veðrfölnir woke up to the last rays of the sunrise with sleep in his eyes and a burning nose. Snorting, he also managed to wake Frío.

"Where's Haarkon?" Veðrfölnir asked, still a bit disoriented.

Frío yawned and gave a small shrug before closing his eyes again. "Beats me. I don't even know if he came back last night."

This made Veðrfölnir jump out of his warm spot in the underbrush and race as fast as he could in the direction of the hill.

It was only when he had almost completely tired himself out that he realized that he felt the unmistakable texture of desert sand still lodged between the pads of his paws.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The king knew that Haarkon wasn't coming back. Still, he paced with grief and anxiety until Frío suggested going for a walk.

He found himself heading in the direction of the hill once more, and Frío wasn't one to deter a lion so fixated on a goal as Veðrfölnir was now.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The hill was as it was when Veðrfölnir had fallen asleep - the lone tree stood guard at its gently sloped apex, and it was certainly not in the middle of a desert. Although, Veðrfölnir fuzzily recollected, he had seen a similar hill in the distance when he was a cub, accompanying Haarkon on one of his excursions for the first time. Frío was accompanying the two, since Haarkon had (accurately) predicted that his tiny heir would get too tired before they reached... the desert.

Veðrfölnir, presently, had begun to ascend the tree to determine whether his suspicions were correct.

He saw, indeed, the first hints of a golden expanse of sand on the horizon, and told Frío to go home.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Though Veðrfölnir still hated the heat, he was hardy. He surveyed the entirety of the desert over the course of what he estimated was a month, stopping at every source of water he found to drink and, when he was hungry, hunt - but as he neared the fringes of the desert with no trace of his father, he felt what tentative hope he had that he would be able to find Haarkon fade away. He knew in the back of his mind the whole time, of course, that he was gone for good.

A sandstorm made red by the setting sun reared up behind Veðrfölnir, and he mounted the face of the cliff that stood the path he intended to take in order to outflank the furious weather.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The tiny badlands Veðrfölnir found himself in turned to high desert once more as the night yielded. Grass seemed to shoot up under his paws as he walked on into the foothills of a great mountain, where the first step beyond the snow line sent a shock of cold relief into his cracking, burned paws, and where the tired lion found a dip in the snow by the base of a timberline cedar to curl up in for the night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You're a long way from home, Veðrfölnir."

Despite having no recollection of waking up, Veðrfölnir was looking into the eyes of what looked like something between a rhinoceros and a lion - muscles bulged from everywhere a muscle could possibly bulge from, and the stocky feline stood about a head taller than him. The entirety of the creature's bulk was covered in a double coat, which turned into sturdy ruffs of skin and fur, rather than a mane, at the neck.

"Who are you? What are you?" Veðrfölnir said, immediately realizing his rudeness. His acquaintance, however, didn't seem to care.

"I am this mountain," Hot breath from the creature's mouth and nose punctuated the words as it spoke. "You were called here by my power."

The young lion opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"For longer than you have been alive, I have been calling to those close to you. It was I who planted the dream of your conception in the mind of Hygeru, who ruled your pride before Haarkon, that idea which drove him mad, and it was I who pulled at the strings of Haarkon's mind to make him remember his predecessor's dream. I gave you your name, and I am responsible for everything that has happened in your life, all of which has served to make you who you are and to bring you to me today."

"I have watched the creatures around me build societies and burn them down - not just humans, but anything you can imagine." The mountain chuffed steam with amusement. "You should see how the trees and the flowers bicker in the winter."

"But in all of these centuries watching creatures live and die on my body, my favourites were always your ancestors, the cave lions, whose form I now take."

"I want you to make me a body, so I can experience life as mortals do. Bring back your ancestors, the cave lions, Veðrfölnir, and live on my soil. Your pride will thrive, and your descendants will have cool, green fields to themselves for all of their lives."

Having assumed the mountain had finished, the young lion started, looking right into the eyes of the feline form, "And -"

"You will do no such thing." The cave lion snarled in Veðrfölnir's face. "You will obey me, or you will face the consequences."

Veðrfölnir followed the gaze of his lecturer up the mountainside to cower at the horrible, distorted shape of what he thought could have barely been a lion at some point. It appeared that their eyes had been gouged out and scarred over, and part of the creature's upper jaw hung crookedly over over what was left of a chin. Bones, muscles, and ligaments showed through scarred skin of only the slightest opacity... and blood of various colours and stages of decomposition dripped onto the snow.

"Trust me, just do what I say," said the mountain, grinning. "My servant will retrieve your pride, and they should find you in a few weeks."

"Wha - weeks?" Veðrfölnir asked, confused.

"Yes, you've been walking to me for weeks," said the mountain, walking off, "Haven't you noticed how thin you are?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And as the short-maned lion wanders, he always returns to his pride at the base of the mountain. He himself lives past the mountain's snowline, and when he surveys "his" lands from the timberline ridge where he sleeps in the dip under his favourite cedar.

"Live your life, Veðrfölnir, tread where you please, but always remember that you are mine."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~





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