Bombalurina lay on her side, staring straight into that face. It was a face that had charmed countless queens before her, would continue to do so. Did he care? No, he didn't care about her or them. He was a selfish creature only looking for self gain; an arrogant smart-ass with obnoxiousness to spare. Why did she worry she loved him? Why was she watching him as she slept, keeping her emotions in check?
He'd walked back into their den as if nothing had happened. He didn't know she'd been told. She was aware he was unfaithful; it was bound to happen, she'd been a fool to believe she could change the tom. So many queens before had fallen with that assumption, it seemed only fitting the one who was never denied held it as well. She'd always gotten her way, always knew how to manipulate for what she wanted. This time, as he pecked her cheek and chirped hello, Bomba knew she'd gotten something she didn't want this time. He was so sure of himself so long as she didn't know, and she wasn't sure of what to do yet.
Why Etcetera? Because she was young, willing, and naïve, no doubt. The scarlet queen frowned disapprovingly at her lover's face. Who took advantage of a kitten? She probably hadn't known exactly what she was getting into, either. The scene played through painfully clear in her mind; Etcetera was thrilled with the extra attention from the creature of her obsession, even more so as it moved to hugging and kissing. Then the touching and the queen grew unsure. She would have hesitated, startled, may have even protested until Tugger soothed and calmed her. Then it got out of paw, it went too far. Bombalurina didn't care about the kitten's reaction at this moment; but she did care that her lover had corrupted a young kitten and had cheated on her.
He'd cheated on her.
She sat up and rubbed her face tiredly. Bast, she didn't deserve this. What had she done to him? She'd loved the bastard! You don't reward love with being unfaithful! She should have kicked him out of the den when he'd come home, not watched him dumbly as if he should have been dead. He should have been dead. She wanted to tear off his face, she also wanted to cry. She also wanted to return the favor. She wanted to make him feel like his face had been shoved in the dirt and held there by some strong force. Make him feel like crap; make him wonder what he'd done wrong.
It would never work.
His thick skull never got it. He'd see she'd moved on, shrug, and go pursue some new prospect. Maybe she should just pretend she never heard of it, and continue like she had. Just yesterday she'd been happy with her existence until Demeter came up with the bad news.
All she ever did was compliment him. He knew she loved him; she told him often, confessed she wanted to keep him hers forever. All she ever did was stroke his ego. Their relationship was too physical for her liking, they never really spoke. They talked, sure, but it was never any deep conversation. Was that what they were missing? Maybe they'd run into the whole thing too fast when it was starting. . .
No, it was all his fault; his fault for having no morals.
And she was tired of serving his ego.