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Frida was.... very, very tired. So she had decided, and so it was- she huffed from her spot, fur pressed against hard tree root as she laid in the grass, enjoying the quiet sea breeze away from the hub-bub of the pride. There was so much happening, the adolescent could scarce make heads or tails of it all- not that she wasn't clever, no, it was just all happening at once.
She didn't like it- not one bit. Not that she was worried over the war- that was over, she was certain- that went over a cub's head, and the storms were frightening at first, but soon became part of routine. The infighting was more confusing, more frustrating- a whole lot of he-said-she-said and she-thinks-he-thinks and not enough doing anything...
And then there were the more immediate matters to the young lioness' attention. She was growing nicely- healthy and strong, nicely proportioned, not a blemish or a mark to mar her, and yet the bullies persisted.
As she grew, so too did her understanding of the pride, and just where she fit into it- and so too did the figurative distance between herself and her family.
Oh, she loved her mothers- very much. And she loved her siblings- it was her duty to, as same blood and salt. But she was clever- the truth of her situation could not hide for long.
She'd be lying, and was lying, when she said she did not harbor any sort of resentment. She had no prospects- no lineage to claim, no prospects. No honor, the illegitimate daughter of two lionesses- the thought made her fur crawl, love them or not, and yes- she resented it. There were times, when she were alone, where she would roll the thought in her mind and mull over the unfairness, injustice of it all- the shame her mothers decided to inflict on her, on her siblings, but now was not one of those times.
No, not now. She was freeborn- but as low as a freeborn could go. There was little farther left to fall, and in light of this, there was only one direction left to go- up.
And oh, she planned to. She refused to remain disgraced forever- if she had to scrape and climb her way up the social ladder, than she would, or she'd build a garden from her own cowardly blood. She was a lioness of ferocity, of action- and she already had a plan.
Dione would be her mentor- she had decided. The head priestess was an honorable woman, a good lioness. If Frida could prove herself there, there would be no doubt that she belonged to the Stormborn- that she was an honorable, true Stormborn no matter her heritage.
And yet- that would hardly matter if she held no titles or wealth.
Yawning, the red and white adolescent stood, stretching- she was pretty. She wasn't vain, either, but she could appreciate her own looks. She wasn't clumsy or crude- she was sharp and clever. Perhaps she could do with a bit more humility, but suitability-wise, her largest hurdle was... her family. Her mothers, their shameful display, and her illegitimacy. She'd long since given up on her cubhood crush, and as she padded back towards the pride, she couldn't blame him- on reflection, she had nothing to offer even if she had been of age.
Not that this stopped her- her mind had been working all morning. She wanted to be presentable, or at the very least, well on her way to presenting the image of a proper Stormborn lioness, before she dared make a case to Dione. She needed a proper husband- a proper reaver husband, a young lion with a respectable lineage and a respectable talent for viking. With a drive to climb as she did.
Unfortunately, any such lion had much better prospects than she had to offer, and so she must settle for the next best thing.
"Brokk!" Frida called, sticking her head into his small den- he was here, she was sure of it, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do.... He left the pride boundaries no more often than she did, "I'm coming in, so you best be presentable, you big furball," she called with a strange bought of affection as she padded in- it was small, but no smaller than a den shared with a relatively large family.
He might have been intimidating, if she knew he wasn't a giant lump of a lion, but he ticked off most every item on her list regardless. There was a comfort with the familiarity, besides, and it could be that he simply needed the motivation to succeed.. Either way the matter fell, Frida still padded in and over, leaning heavily on the older lion with a rumble in her chest.
"I don't know if I should be pleased or cross that you're always here," she tsked playfully, face pressing affectionately into his mane, "Won any grand battles since yesterday?" She teased light-heartedly- for all he was a lump, he was still better company than most her family- better company than most, really, even when she was a cub- especially when she was a cub, still, while the affection was rather out of the blue for the proud young lioness, it wasn't entirely undue.
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