Since I had given birth to Leon’s litter, Aureon had apparently decided that "do not disturb" was a concept that did not apply to him. He began appearing at our home with the regularity of a recurring rash, always carrying some gift or another; a feather, a shiny stone, a half-eaten creature like mouse that seems larger than a house cat, that he presented to me with the pride of a male who had conquered kingdoms.
"I brought you an offering," he would announce, holding out the mangled rodent like a bouquet.
"Aureon," I would say, trying to be patient, "I don’t eat raw meat."
"You aren’t?" he had asked, his golden eyes bright. "And also, I brought this for the fat cub." He insisted then.
The first time he came to play with the cubs, the tension in the room could have been sliced with a knife and served for dinner. Leon was actually vibrating, his muscles coiled so tight I thought he might snap in half. Ravin stood with his arms crossed, his defense up, radiating a lion hostility like a bonfire. Caelion, Soryn, and Veylan formed a territorial wall behind me, their expressions ranging from murderous to deeply unimpressed.
Aureon walked through them like they were furniture surprising us in the process, that he was not here for me, he was here for my cubs.
"Hello," he chirped, dropping into a crouch before the cubs, who had gathered in a golden cluster to stare at the intruder. "I am Aureon. I am going to be your new—"
"Friend," I interrupted quickly, glaring at him. "He is going to be your new friend. Maybe. If your fathers allow it."
"Which we do not," Leon growled.
"—friend," Aureon finished, undeterred. His eyes found Jasper, who was attempting to hide behind his brothers, his round golden body quivering with the effort of being invisible. Aureon’s face softened into an expression of absolute delight. "Hello, Jasper the fat cub."
The room went silent. Dangerously silent. I heard Ravin’s teeth grind.
"He is not fat," my First Mate said, his voice low and vibrating with irritation. "He is just fluffy."
Aureon looked up, his smile sheepish, his hands raised in surrender. "I apologize. Hello, Jasper the fluffy cub. May I pet you?"
Jasper, innocent and oblivious that he was, waddled forward and presented himself.
That was the beginning of the end.
Ever since that day, Aureon came around with the persistence of a seasonal allergy. And Jasper, my lazy prince, welcomed him. They would lie together by the fire, the tiger prince and the lion cub, a golden lion and a white tiger napping in a pile of fur and contentment. Aureon would bring him treats, tell him stories in a low voice, and Jasper would purr, in response. Obviously loving the attention. Poor Soryn look like an abandon puppy. He’s little Jasper was spending more time with the outsider than his daddy.
Atlas watched this interaction with narrowed eyes.
My eldest cub had always been observant, always watching the dynamics of our pride with the careful attention of one who would one day lead. He saw his father’s irritation. He saw Ravin’s clenched jaw. He saw the way the other males bristled whenever Aureon’s white hair appeared in the doorway.
And Atlas, clever and loyal and desperate to please, made a decision.
He would hate Aureon. He would hate him with the passion of a cub who had chosen a side, and he would make his father proud.
"Get out," Atlas announced the next time Aureon appeared, stepping in front of his brothers with his small chest puffed out. "We do not like you here."
"Atlas," I said, surprised.
"It is okay," Aureon said, still smiling, still infuriatingly cheerful. "I do not mind. I have cousins who hated me too. It is a sign of respect, really."
"It is a sign that you should leave," Atlas corrected, his voice impressively stern for a nine month old cub.
"But Jasper likes me," Aureon pointed out, gesturing to where my youngest was already trotting over, tail wagging, joy written all over his face.
"Jasper is stupid," Atlas declared.
"Am not," Jasper mumbled around the treat Aureon had produced from his hands.
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Are too infinity!"
"That is not a number!"
"Is too!"
The argument devolved from there, with Chase and Ryder joining in on whichever side seemed more likely to produce snacks, and Aureon sitting in the middle of it all, petting Jasper’s fluffy belly, smiling at me like he had won something.
Leon watched from the corner, his arms crossed, his expression murderous.
I caught his eye and mouthed; He is good with the cubs.
Leon mouthed back, I will kill him.
But he did not. Because Jasper was happy. Because the cubs were entertained. Because, despite everything, Aureon’s presence had become something we all expected, like winter, like rain, like the endless questions of children.
Every now and then, when he thought my mates weren’t looking, Aureon would sneak off from the cubs and corner me with the persistence of a male who had never learned the meaning of the word "no."
"So," he would begin, his voice dropping to what he probably thought was a conspiratorial whisper but was actually loud enough for the entire village to hear, "you are no longer pregnant. Will you consider me now? Your cubs love me, well, most of them. But will you consider me now?"
His questions came like arrows, one after another, without pause, without breath, without any apparent need for oxygen. I would open my mouth to answer the first, and he would already be on the third, adding clauses and conditions and hypothetical scenarios until I felt like I was drowning in a sea of tiger-themed persistence.
"I mean," he continued, not waiting for my response, "I know you are content, but are you truly content? Could you not be more content? With, say, a tiger? A handsome tiger? A prince? I am very handsome. Your cubs think so. Jasper thinks so. Atlas does not, but he is young and impressionable and also wrong. But will you consider me now?"
"Aureon," I managed, finally finding a gap in his verbal assault, "I am flattered. Truly. But I am content."
A small spark of sadness crossed his face then, genuine and surprisingly vulnerable, the mask of confidence slipping to reveal the young male beneath who simply wanted to be chosen. But it was quickly replaced with that bright, relentless smile, the one that said he would wait forever if he had to.
"That is alright," he said, his voice cheerful again, already bouncing back from rejection like a ball thrown against stone. "I am patient. I can wait. I am very good at waiting. I once waited three days for a deer to walk past my hiding spot. You are much prettier than a deer. So I will wait."
Before I could respond to that particular compliment, the cubs came crashing through the undergrowth, a golden wave of chaos and demand.
"Aureon, Aureon!" Ryder shouted, grabbing the tiger’s pant leg with his teeth and pulling. "Come play!"
"Yes... come, come," Chase added, circling them both with the manic energy of a cub who had not yet learned the meaning of exhaustion.
Jasper, of course, was already there, having appeared from nowhere like a fluffy golden phantom, rubbing himself all over Aureon’s legs, purring loud enough for all to hear, his tail wrapped around the tiger’s ankle in a claim that was unmistakable.
Atlas brought up the rear, his small face set in a scowl so fierce it was almost comical on a nine month old. He stopped short of the group, turned his nose up with a huff that perfectly mimicked his father’s irritation, and sat down with his back to them, his tail twitching in disapproval.
That one, I thought, watching him, was so like his fathers it was almost frightening. The same pride, the same stubbornness, the same inability to admit when he was wrong. Comical, really, if it weren’t so adorable.
I had made caramelized pork stir-fry for dinner, the scent of ginger and garlic and sweet-savory sauce filling the home, drawing everyone in like a siren’s call. Aureon joined us, of course, seating himself between Jasper and the fire with the ease of a male who had decided he belonged there.
"I understand now," he announced, his mouth full of pork, his eyes wide with revelation, "why you do not prefer raw meat. Eating like this, I would stop eating raw meat too. This is so good. This is better than raw meat. This is better than... than... what is better than raw meat? Nothing. But this is better."
Ravin smiled, his hand finding my shoulder, his thumb tracing circles there. "Yes," he said, his voice warm with pride. "My mate is the best cook."
Leon looked at me from across the fire, his dark eyes soft, his smile private and intimate. "Yes," he agreed. "So good. She is phenomenal."
Caelion, Soryn, and Veylan nodded in unison, their mouths too full to speak, their expressions saying everything words could not.
"You guys are flattering me," I said, feeling heat rise to my cheeks, the blush spreading down my neck.
"No, Krys," Ravin said, his hand sliding down to capture mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. "It is the truth."
My heart swelled then, pressing against my ribs, filling my chest with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. I looked around at them, at my mates, at my cubs, at the ridiculous tiger prince who would not leave, at the life we had built in this strange and beautiful world, and felt love like a physical force, like gravity, like the tide.
I felt an overwhelming sense of safety.
---
It had been a week since Leon’s litter entered the world, and already they were changing, growing, becoming distinct personalities wrapped in golden fur. Their eyes had cleared from the newborn haze to reveal the deep, dark obsidian they had inherited from their father, solemn and watchful even at this young age. Sikai was the quiet observer, taking in everything with a stillness that reminded me of Leon. Niku was the wriggler, never still, always seeking, already trying to climb out of the nest with determined paws.
And then there was Levara.
My daughter. My Levy.
She was, in a word, a terror. A beautiful, perfect, sassy terror who ruled our household with an iron paw and absolutely no patience for anyone who failed to recognize her superiority.
The nursing sessions had become battlegrounds. She established her position with the ruthlessness of a general claiming territory, shoving her brothers aside with her hind legs if they dared approach while she was eating. She did not wait. She did not ask. She simply took, her small body vibrating with indignation if anyone suggested she might share.
The incident with Jasper became legend.
My lazy prince had trotted over one morning, his usual spot beside me already occupied by the nursing newborns. He hesitated, assessing the situation, then attempted to squeeze in on the other side, his body settling carefully against my hip where he had occassionally slept since birth.
Levara noticed.
Without pausing in her meal, without even opening her eyes fully, she lifted one hind leg and kicked. The blow caught Jasper square in his fluffy side, not enough to really do any damage but enough to cause Jasper some pain or discomfort.
"Mommy," Jasper whined, his golden eyes wide with betrayal, his voice carrying the absolute tragedy of his situation. "Levy is not sharing. She’s being mean."
I looked down at my daughter. She had not stopped eating. Had not acknowledged the assault she had just committed. But as Jasper’s complaint hung in the air, Levara cracked one eye open, looked directly at her brother, and rolled it. An actual eye roll, dismissive and utterly unimpressed, before closing it again and continuing her meal.
I swore I saw it. The sass was genetic, my own mother had told me I use to be such a sassy little girl when I didn’t get my way and never apologize for it.
"Jasper, sweetie," I said, trying not to laugh, trying to be a responsible parent, "Levy is still very small. She doesn’t understand sharing yet."
"She understands," Jasper muttered, rubbing his side. "She just doesn’t care."
He was right, of course. None of the boy cubs were a match for the youngest girl in our family. Atlas tried to assert dominance once, sitting on her to establish his rank, and she had screamed so loudly and for so long that he had fled the room in terror. Chase attempted to play-wrestle, and she had latched onto his ear with a grip that required Ravin’s intervention to remove. Ryder simply avoided her, having learned quickly that the small female was not to be trifled with.
And she was so cute, so fiercely perfect in her demands, that none of us could blame her. How could we? She was barely a week old, already ruling her world, already certain of her place in it.
Leon was completely enamored.
My fierce, funny, occasionally murderous Leon became a puddle of adoration in his daughter’s presence. He would lie for hours with her curled on his chest, his large hand cradling her tiny body, his voice dropping to whispers as he told her stories of her namesake, of shadows and jewels and the strength of females. When she kicked him, he laughed. When she screamed, he cooed. When she demanded attention at three in the morning, he was already awake, ready to serve.
"She has your spirit," he told me once, his dark eyes never leaving her sleeping face. "Your strength. Your refusal to bend."
Her other daddies were no better. Ravin, who should have been the stern disciplinarian, melted when she gripped his finger in her tiny paw. Caelion sang to her in the language of the sea, his voice soft and reverent. Soryn coiled around her protectively, hissing at anyone who came too close. And Veylan, my quiet wolf, would sit for hours simply watching her breathe, as if he could not believe she was real.
They all gave in to her sass. All of them. This tiny female, barely larger than my hand, had wrapped five powerful males around her finger and she knew it. She absolutely knew it.
And when she looked at me, her dark eyes meeting mines, I knew she was going to change everything. This daughter of mine, this Levara, this Levy, was not simply another cub.
She was a sovereign in the making. And we were all just living in her world. "levy sweetie, don’t be mean to your brother. They will one day grow to take care of you and protect you."
She just looks at me, and I swear she rolled her eyes and continue nursing without a care in the world."