Freyja had beamed the day her daughter finally decided to go out on her first viking, looking forward to the rewards and stories she would tell. When she had left, however, opinions from other lionesses reached her ears about the flowery blood of the 'friend' she kept, the forgetful lioness whos' name she never bothered to learn. The whispers were unkind, saying that surely the 'disease' of kindness would rub off on Freyja's daughter, and she vehemently denied and attempted to dispel the rumors, though in her heart she'd felt the same since the cub's birth; she wasn't a strong lioness. Freyja had hoped that maybe, just maybe, going on this viking would toughen the both of them up.
If there was one thing for sure her daughter inherited from her, it was her stubbornness, and she wouldn't abandon this weak friend of hers no matter what threats Freyja would spew at her. Of course, anything else, she could make her child jump through hoops to accomplish, but she was certainly set in her ways when it came to that fragile female. If she wasn't so sure of Freya's interest in the male population, she would think this... this pale-furred old blood... would be her mate, but the very idea made her laugh. Even as a cub, Freya had taken an interest in making friends, surely she only pitied the creature and perhaps she could make use of her old blood. Fear of this lionesses' father seemed to be still abundant, since males weren't so quick to approach her as a mate. Or maybe she was just too flowery for them, and she didn't blame them.
But her daughter... no, her daughter would not marry a weakling, nor would she be the submissive of her cave. Freyja would have to intervene somehow, find a strong male that might be somewhat pleasing to be around. Certainly nothing like the girl's father, gods above no. He was a passing phase, she reminded herself, and one she would not have her own child endure. Perhaps she could ask discreetly, send whispers that Freya sought herself a worthy male, and watch what chaos and gentleman callers her child should come home to. She smirked to herself, adjusting the draperies to the entrance of her cave that were more for her secrecy than a show of her taste in decor, the look on her daughters' face would be something curious to see. Would she be excited? Amused? Or more likely, just purely shocked that her mother, her clever, beautiful, oh so doting mother went to such great lengths to surround her with male suitors on her home arrival.
Perhaps she could even scrounge up some...one? Thing? for that friend of hers, just to show her daughters' choice of friends weren't too unbearable for her mother to bother with. Though of course, Freyja herself would just throw anyone at the little jittery one, her daughter would expect better of her. Perhaps she could find someone equally weak in the head as the pale one. But, she sighed, they wouldn't be good enough. She needed someone strong and clever.
She perked up, someone clever and strong and worthy of both her daughter and her daughters' friend? Maybe all this effort would gain herself some interest. What if the males even decided Freyja herself was the better wife? She could see it now, tending the den of her strong Captain of a husband, tending to little feisty cubs as he brought home glory and bathed in blood. She tingled from the idea of it. Captain... NO! Maybe even Warlord! HAH! She could laugh at the idea of being the Warlord's wife, but she flushed to herself, making an effort to primp and a little self-grooming, eyeing the scar on her shoulder and smirking. Oh yes, she was a worthy bride, as worthy as any other.
One look around ehr den, however, and she soon found herself on a cleaning spree. Dust, so much dust! She wasn't the cleaning type, but surely her new husband needed a clean den, and to see she was more than capable of both duels and den. Let the lionesses whisper then, of her new status. She wondered idly if she could make a few choice Freeborn lionesses into Thralls, for thinking lowly of her daughter and friend. Maybe she could even go out now, bring a husband to greet her daughter when she returned from her viking with the mouse-woman.
A husband for her, her daughter, the flower-Freeborn..... she was getting carried away, and she shook her head. Where had this train of thought even started again? She couldn't remember. She took one look at her cleaned den and decided she was going mad, sitting in one place for so long as she waited for her daughter to return. Perhaps a venture outdoors would clear her mind, she finally agreed to herself, taking it upon herself to swat at a few birds that seemed to have caught the whole episode she had put on display. Ashamed? No, far from it. She hoped they were intimidated.
Stepping over the rocky terrain and greeting lionesses as she passed with little more than a nod as she aimed herself towards the open sea air, she sighed, content. She loved it here, and she didn't love much, so that was saying something. There was a change in the breeze today, almost as if the waters wanted her to know something was brewing not too far off in the future, and she hoped for her daughter's return today. Maybe the little wispy female will have died. Then Freyja could thoroughly enjoy her daughter's return, and maybe offer her solace on the loss of her lifelong friend.
...Maybe she could get her a Thrall, a nice little thing she could nurture. She would get over her friend quickly then, she figured... well, quickly enough. She was her own flesh and blood after all, there's got to be more than stubbornness that rubbed off on her...
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