Hey guys, The New Mandalord here.

I know what you're all thinking. Why the hell is he not doing a Lichee fic?

Truth is I was inspired by Fuuko no Miko's story, In His Shoes: Rehashed, and I would be lying if I didn't say I wanted to create my own version. Now this will be a collaboration fic between me and Fuuko, so if there is a deep lag between chapters it is more than likely we are working on the next chapter, we're wicked busy with our lives, or we're f-ing lazy.

With that said please read, enjoy, and REVIEW!

(Any flamers, please send to Fuuko no Miko's page.)

Her sister held the gown up for her inspection.

"Well isn't this lovely? Touch it. Go ahead. Caress the fabric."

Cleo touched the gown. The soft fabric was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember when she wore something this smooth or beautiful. Normally she wore clothes that had so much dirt and oil on them that it was hard to tell what the original color was, and for special occasions she would have to wear something more bland and plain so that she would not upstage her sister.

Her sister had a tendency to tease, or destroy her with fancy clothes that she claimed were made for her but obviously were not. Because of that she was afraid to touch it.

"Is it really mine?"

"A gift from Master Lirus," Nehla said smiling. Her sister was in a good mood tonight. "And you should have gold of course, and jewels of all sorts to bring out the violet in your eyes. Lirus promised to have it free of charge. He promised." Clearly she was in a good mood, but a nice dress, plus gold and jewels, what was the catch? "Tonight, you at least have to act like a princess."

A princess, Cleo thought. She had forgotten how to be one. Or maybe she never knew how to be one. "Why does he give us so much?" For almost half a year her family had been accepting gifts of all sorts from the squirrel known as Lirus. Cleo was twenty-three now, and despite the façade that she was forced to play, she was not naïve to the merchant's scheme of becoming the richest man in Khadar.

"Lirus is no fool," Nehla said. She was a more statuesque version of Cleo, with red eyes that shown like rubies in the right light. "The rodent knows that I won't forget my friends when Ajano becomes king."

Cleo said nothing. Lirus was a trader of spices, fine gemstones, foreign fashion, farming equipment, dragoon bones and scales, and other things that would surely give her nightmares if she thought about them. He had friends and trading partners in all of the oasis cities of Khadar, and even traded with the nomadic Roamers and human tribes out in the Shifting Sands. He was friendly, as long as people prayed the right price, and with Ajano becoming King and high officials from Thundera coming later this evening, all signs pointed to Lirus trying to get a small monopoly going so he does not get swallowed up by the competition, which just further proved the Nehla was an idiot.

The younger lioness sat on her bed and listened to the talk in the streets, and heard things, but chose not to question her older sister when she was weaving her idiotic web of dreams. Her anger was hard to quell when provoked. They actually had a nickname for it, they called it, "going feral."

Her sister hung the gown on her bed. "I'll send some servants' to bathe you. We need to wash off the smell of grease and oil off you. King Lion-O needs to see us as a savvy and prosperous nation, not a bunch of techno-barbarians."

She studied her critically. "You still slouch. Here, straighten your back." She pulled Cleo up, pushed her back so her chest stuck out, and pulled her shoulders so far back that it hurt. "You need to be perfect tonight. You don't want to fail us, do you?" She gave Cleo a pinch, so hard that neither her rough tunic nor her fur softened the blow. "Do you?"

"No." she said meekly, hiding her rolling eyes.

Her sister smiled. "Good." She touched her white hair, almost showing some compassion. "When they write the history of our people, sweet sister, they will begin with tonight."

When Nehla was gone, Cleo went to her window and looked wistfully on the waters of the bay. The circular marble towers of Kwandi were black silhouettes out lined against the setting sun. Cleo could hear the singing of the Sun priests as they lit their evening fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the palace. For a moment she wished she could be one of them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters and dirt and sweat, with no past or future to turn to, and no ball to attend at some far off king's expense.

Somewhere across the desert, beyond the horizon, dune sea, and seemingly endless wasteland, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers that did not dry up whenever there was a drought, where cities were built amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains and not restricted to wherever there was water, and armored warriors rode machines to battle beneath their one, unifying banner. In Khadar that called it "Hayatin Kara," Land of Life. In the oasis towns that border its eastern fringe call it Thundera.

Nehla had a simpler name. "An endless bank" she called it. Those words almost became a prayer to her leading up to this day. If she said them enough, then maybe King Lion-O would look her way and make her his queen and spoil her rotten. Fine for Cleo, it would get her away from Nehla for a long time.

It was pretty easy to say that Nehla and Cleo did not get along. They were sisters by birth and the legendary white lions which ran Khadar, but that is where the similarities ended. They shared the same father, but not the same mother. The story goes that Ajano and Nehla's mother had been a rich, noble lady that married their father when she was very young, but as she grew older she grew more flirtatious with younger boys and one day ran off with one of them, never to be seen or heard from again. Some say that the king had them killed, others say that they were swallowed by the sand, some rumors floated around that she was tricked into slavery, while some had whispered that they are looked in a prison somewhere. Either way the original queen had disappeared, leaving Ajano and Nehla motherless and the king heartbroken.

That was until he met Cleo's mother. From what her older brother told her, she was an exact replica of her mother. She was a white lion mercenary from beyond the Shifting Sands. She was willful, courageous, hot-tempered, and somewhat of a gearhead, just like Cleo – tough she also got some mellow traits from her father. It was said that she took a contract in Kwandi as extra security and had a very passionate affair with the king. She died giving birth to Cleo, while he died from grief, and for that her half-sister Nehla had never forgiven her.

The only person she could ever rely on was her brother Ajano. At the Age of thirty-two, he had a year to go before he would be crowned king of Khadar. He was handsome, known for his great white mane, booming voice, and chiseled features, but Cleo saw the real him. He was kind and caring to her growing up, being the father which she never had, and was able to protect her from Nehla whenever she went feral. He used to call her "my lady," or "little princess," when she was younger, and it made her feel like one. But his duties to the throne increased, those luxuries faded into a dreamlike state, and she had to fend for herself from then on.

There came a soft knock on her door. "Come in," Cleo said, turning away from the window. Palace servants entered, bowed as they set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of Lirus's many slave trading friends. There was no slavery in the oasis cities, but ironically these two were. The old mouse, small and grey as a mouse (Just get this out, repetitive), never said a word, but the young jackal made up for it. She was quickly turning into Ajano's favorite, with sand-colored fur and dark green eyes, she was a concubine who was filled with boundless energy from the moment she woke.

They filled her bath with lukewarm water brought up from their reservoir and heated by the sun and scented with fragrant oils. The mouse pulled the rough cotton tunic over Cleo's head and helped her into the tub. The water was a bit on the cold side, but Cleo did not flinch or cry out. She liked her baths cold. It was a rare luxury, and it was one of the few times where she felt like royalty.

The old mouse washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The jackal scrubbed her back and her feet and would not shut up about how lucky she was.

"Lion-O is so rich that even the streets to his cities are paved in gold. Over a million different animals march in his armies, and his palace has two thousand rooms and door made from solid silver."

There was more like that, so much more, enough to make Cleo's ears bleed over, and at points she wished they did, what a handsome man the king was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best swordsman in his kingdom, and a demon marksman. She assumed that the jackal had been talking to Nehla again, and how she was bragging about how she was going to be this lion's queen. Cleo had always assumed that she would be married off to some highborn lad in one of the oasis cities, he would get a wife to mount whenever he wished while her family got some convoluted trade agreement. Fortunately for her, Ajano was not that kind of a man, in fact he acted more like a protective father then an older brother to her, and would never sell her to someone he did not approve of. Yet now Ajano, Nehla, or Lirus was scheming something, and she did not like it.

When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The jackal brushed her fur and hair until it shown like blazing ivory, while the old mouse anointed her with flowery perfume from Thundera, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tip of her breasts, and the last one, cool on her lips, down between her legs. Cleo wanted to punch the mouse for doing that, but thought better of it. Was not her fault, she probably hated doing it as much as Cleo, but she had her orders.

They dressed her in the wisps that Master Lirus had sent up, and the gown, a midnight purple silk to bring out the violet in her eyes and better contrast with her white fur. The jackal slid the gilded sandals onto her feet, while the old mouse fixed the gold and sapphire in her hair, and slid golden bracelet crusted with pearls and amethysts around her wrist. Last of all came the necklace, or a collar in Cleo's opinion, a heavy golden thing emblazoned with ancient Khadarian glyphs.

"Now you look like a princess," the jackal said breathlessly when they were done. Cleo glanced at her image in the silver looking glass that was a hand-me-down from Nehla. "A princess," she thought, "I look more like an over-the-top prisoner!"

Every instinct in her body told her to rip all of that off her, throw the slaves out and barricade herself in her room. If Nehla, Ajano, or any of the Janissaries came to drag her to this ball, then she would go naked. If she could not make a good impression, then she'd happily make a lasting one. But then her father's cool and calm thinking kicked in, and she thought that maybe that was a horrible idea! She was trapped either way, may as well suck it up and deal with whatever happens.

Her sister was waiting in the cool of the entry hall, seated on the edge of the pool, her hand trailing in the water. She rose when she appeared and looked her over critically. "Stand there," she told her. "Turn around. Yes. Good. You look…."

"Regal, is the word you were looking for." Master Lirus said, stepping through an archway. The rodent moved with surprising delicacy for such a massive man. Beneath loose garments of flamed-coloredsilk, rolls of fat fur jiggled as he walked. Gemstones glittered like stars on every finger, and he had oiled his goat-like orange beard until it shown like fire. "The Sun God showers you with his blessing on this most fortunate day, Princess Cleo," the merchant said as he took her hand. He bowed his head, showing a thin glimpse of crooked yellow teeth through his flaming beard. "She is a vision, Your Grace, a vision," he told her sister. "The lords of Thundera will be enraptured."

So now she was being married off to some high lord in Thundera, great!

"She's too skinny," Nehla said, obliviously threatened by Cleo. Her hair, the same ivory-white as her, had been pulled back into a behind her head into a bun and held with two dragoon bone sticks. It was a severe look that emphasized the beautiful, elegant lines of her face. Her outfit was like Cleo's, just with less gold and more platinum and diamonds, and much more revealing. Obviously she was trying to land the king tonight. She rested her head on the palm of her hand and said, "Are you sure that anyone will notice her?"

"She will be noticed, don't you worry about that, maybe not as much as you though."

"I suppose," her sister said doubtfully. "The Thunderians have a weird taste. I heard some of them sleep with robotic bears."

"Best not suggest this to King Lion-O," Lirus said.

Anger flashed in her sister's blood red eyes. "Do you take me for a fool?"

The merchant bowed slightly. "I take you for a queen. Queens lack the caution of commoners. My apologies if I given offense."

"Any more, and I'll have you in the dungeons." Ajano said as he entered through the same archway. He was in a yellow tunic, yellow boots and a white cotton kafiya, wrapped loosely around his neck. His mane was in an organized kind of wild, showing that he was both a strong leader as well as a gentleman. An ivory-handled khopesh hung from his black leather belt. He stood in sharp contrast to Lirus's stock, soft, body. Behind him were two Janissaries, their families troops and bodyguards, and each was in full dark bronze colored Missaglias steel armor and carried a copper-handled kijils.

They pushed Lirus aside and escorted the royal family out of the palace. The streets of Kwandi were pitch-dark when they set out in Lirus's elaborately made ground-car. Two other Janissaries stood in front, while the original two walked in the back. The ground-car crept at a slow pace to allow the Janissaries in back to keep pace. It was warm and close inside the car. Cleo could smell the stench of Lirus's oiled fur still lingering on her.

Her brother patted her on the back, and that put her mind at ease. "You look beautiful tonight, my lady."

She smiled, but that smile quickly dropped when she saw the fire in Nehla's eyes. Nehla spread out along the seat. "I wonder if King Lion-O is as rich as they say."

"Nehla, behave yourself." Ajano said.

"Yes, yes," she said, she was too far into her own fantasies to care about her brother's threats. "I'm just wondering what a Champagne bath would be like."

"Nehla!"

The ground-car slowed and stopped. The doors were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help her out. Ajano waved the slave off and offered a hand to help Cleo out. Nehla followed, along with the Janissaries, who all had one hand clenched hard around their swords.

Inside the manse, the air was heavy with the scent of spices, wild-fire and sweet lemon and cinnamon. They were escorted across the entry hall, where a mosaic of color glass depicted Lineage of the White Lions. Oil burned in black iron lanterns all along the walls. Beneath an arch of twinning stones leaves, a human slave sang their coming. "Ajano of the house Nasandi, second of his name," he called in a high, sweet voice that sound far too rehearsed, "Royal Governor and ruler over the ever changing sands of Khadar. His sister, Nehla Nasandi, Royal Governess. And their youngest, Cleo Shir, Princess of Kwandi."

They stepped past the human into a pillared courtyard overgrown in desert ivy. Moonlight painted the leaves in shades of bone and silver as the guests drifted among them. To Cleo, they looked dead. How this parasite of a plant was a part of her household was beyond her. If it was up to her, she would have them all burned and replaced with plants that would guarantee life, not something that constantly wasted water and gave nothing back in return.

Many of the guests were King Lion-O's lords and ladies, mostly different cats that made up the famous Thundercats. First one she saw was Lion-O's adoptive brother, prince Tygra, and he did live up to all of the gossip. Clean fur that looked like some fine fabric, a devilish smile that could make a maiden swoon, clear-eyed, and muscled like any maiden's fantasy. Next to him was Lord Bengali, Lion-O's master-at-arms, and he seemed to copy Tygra in many ways, but instead of healthy orange fur was blazing white.

She then noticed the women they were with and could easily tell that they were their wives, just from the amount they were hanging off them. Princess Cheetara could easily turn heads just by batting her eyelashes, and had the physique to take on seven janissaries. Lady Pumyra's beauty was wild to say the least. She had dark brown fur, grey eyes, and covered in white bleached-out marks, no doubt showing her tribal heritage.

They were both beautiful with supple, Lilith bodies and shapes that made her and Nehla jealous. Hard to believe that they only had two babes a piece.

Nehla whispered to Cleo, "By the pillar is King Lion-O. The human with him is Nikolia Angelucci. Little is known about him, not even Lirus knows that much on him, just that he is called the Living Nightmare."

She looked at Lion-O, Thundera's crowned king. He had to be the exact opposite of his brother, master-of-arms, or bodyguard. He appeared thin, almost frail in the pale moonlight, his blue eyes lifeless and empty, his mane was long and the color of rust, and his tan fur looked as sad the desert ivy. Only his majestic clothing declared him royalty and somehow compensated for his somewhat contrite appearance. Had he been in rags she wouldn't have been able to differentiate him from the vagrants that roamed the streets of Khadar.

This was him? This pitiful excuse of flesh and fur was the same Lion-O who defeated Mumm-ra and unified most of Third Earth? It couldn't be! It had to be some sort of trick. Cleo turned to Ajano and saw that it was true. Lirus, all smiles and bows, was escorting King Lion-O over to where they stood. She had expected to be overwhelmed by the presence of the Thunderan monarch…but this was now reduced to a feeling of…what was it? A cross perhaps of pity and disenchantment…she can almost hear her older sister's horror and inside her head she almost snickered.

"Smile," Nehla whispered nervously, likely hiding her disappointment, her hand pinching her back. "And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is."

Cleo put on a false smile, and stood up straight.

Author's Notes:

...Is it safe to come out yet?

Fuuko no Miko: Seems to be... for now.

Good. At least the flamers haven't come around, yet.

Fuuko: They will when they find out what you did to Lion-O. By the way, what did you do to make him look like that? He looks like he's on his death bed.

I just locked him in your dungeon for a couple months.

Fuuko: HEY!