There was an odd mix of feelings in the pit of Azzan’s stomach as an unbranded he did not recognize sought him out in the tunnels with a summons from his Aunt, the reigning monarch and Queen of all that he held dear. He should have been a better host, he should have stepped out with Katiti to welcome his Queen home, but something that Chau had said made him doubt how much he would like the presence of so many lions at once. The summons made it abundantly clear that he had no choice in the matter but it did not tell him whether or not she was disappointed in the choice.

Why had he let that little rogue get under his skin?

With a frown on his maw the entire way, Azzan picked his path through the labyrinth of tunnels that made up the main structure of the Outlands’ den complex. The tunnels opened near the top of the mound onto a natural pathway leading up to the Queen’s den, a large hollow tucked behind an outcropping of hard, red clay and stone. It was not unlike the Pridelands’ infamous King’s outlook but it was smaller, more quaint, and not laden with nearly such a history of treachery and lies. By the time he passed the crest he had at least schooled his face to apathy - but it was tested the moment he saw his aging Aunt and another someone sitting at her side. A someone he would have known for a relative even before two pairs of identical, acidic green eyes swung in his direction.

“My Queen, welcome home.”

The words were automatic, as was the sweeping bow of his head that sent his great, thick black mane tossing around his face. Neither of the lions moved to meet him but he saw the way his aunt studied him as he rose back to his full height and took the last few steps in her direction.

“Now, now, Azzan. There is no need for so much formality.”

Only he knew that there was and that had he failed to show it properly then all of her careful, measured politeness would have become a sharp tongue that cracked over him like a whip. After Mufasa it had always been abundantly clear that their monarch was the end all, be all of their lives here in the pride. He had never argued it and, for quite some time, had actually thought that perhaps his aunt might pass on the throne without a direct heir. However, as his eyes shifted from her to the capable, strong beast seated at her side, he knew what this summons had really been about. She was not going to shame him for not showing his face when she arrived but she was going to make something else quite clear. The revelation must have shown on his face because the pregnant silence was interrupted by a wicked, amused laugh that made even the other male shift where he sat.

“I see that you have figured out who this is. Kethiwe, please introduce yourself to your cousin.” Ashiki’s weighing eyes shifted from Azzan and landed expectantly on the male at her side. For a moment, Azzan pitied him. For years he must have been travelling with the Queen, subject to her scrutiny and expectations that he himself remembered all too well. He could not fault her for it, not when it meant the survival of their pride and their way of life, but it was a heavy burden to carry. The male simply nodded, no questions asked, and brought himself up to his feet.

“I am Kethiwe,” he began, dipping his head in a bow that Azzan knew was precisely calculated for the respect due between a Claw and a royal Scion of Taka, “Son of Ashiki, Crown Prince of the Outlands, and Scion of Taka.” Then, as his head rose, he offered Azzan a smile that the elder male was certain he felt laden with.. Somewhat else. Sympathy? Knowing? The male was well behaved and the picture of formality but those eyes didn’t lie as his own mismatched pair stared into them. He was his mother’s son, through and through, and he saw through everything that Azzan was - he just seemed to be a little nicer about it. “It is a pleasure to meet you, cousin.”

Azzan, formerly Ashiki’s heir only by her lack of begetting her own broodlings, knew what this moment was. He had a choice to make - get angry that years of belief had been turned up on their head, repeat the mistakes that had lead the Pridelands to their wretched choices or follow the path of the ancestors as they had laid it out before them. In reality, there was only one choice that allowed him to remain a member of this pride, that kept him here as his Aunt’s Claw, and he didn’t even take a second guess at what that decision would be.

He was not truly meant to be King.

“Welcome to the lands of your forefathers, Kethiwe, may the ancestors smile upon you.” The response was automatic and his head dipped, again, with the acknowledgement of the younger male’s title. Beside him, Ashiki gave a small, nearly imperceptible nod to denote his choice. He was certain that she had not ever doubted him - to doubt a Scion of Taka would make the right choice was almost as unfathomable as one making the choice in the first place. “I hope that I might serve you as well as I have served your mother in all these years.”

Kethiwe, whose colors he knew the Queen must have been incredibly proud of, simply smiled at the response. He thought, again, that he saw something different lingering in those bold eyes as they weighed him but Azzan had not been a lion gifted with the perception that some members of his family could claim to have. Strength, yes. Power, absolutely. Might in droves. Yet when he stared at his Queen and, now, her son, he remembered what it had felt like to look into Serafina’s eyes. Had this been Taka’s gift to his rightful heirs?

Perhaps his little rogue had been right all along and he was, truly, an heir to nothing.

Outside of his thoughts, he heard Kethiwe’s sealing words: “I have no doubt that you will.”

[Word Count: 1,075]