A/N: All characters in this story are mine, and are not to be used without my permission. Lyrics from Welcome to the Black Parade belong to My Chemical Romance. Lyrics from Epiphany belong to Stephen Sondheim. Lyrics from Live and Let Die belong to Paul McCartney. Lyrics from Bohemian Rhapsody belong to Queen. Lyrics from Welcome to the Jungle belong to Guns 'N Roses. Lyrics from You're Gonna Go Far, Kid belong to The Offspring. Also, as a warning, this might offend some people later on (religious beliefs), so if it does offend you, just don't read it. Most especially, don't send me something telling me why and to what extent it offends you.

Sanctuary

Love the animals. God has given them the basis of thought and joy untroubled. Don't harass them. Don't deprive them of their happiness. Don't work against God's intent.
—Dostoevsky

The desert was a harsh, unforgiving wasteland. Once in it, there was no refuge, save for the oases, which were few and far between. Therefore, it was rather appropriate that the land was called Sanctuary. Its vast swath of green and yellow seemed to defy the desert, to taunt it. It was far too large to be called an oasis, as it stretched over miles.

The animals who lived there lived in peace. There were no challengers to the peace who came from the desert, and the inhabitants' ancestors learned long ago it wasn't wise to fight when the defeated had nowhere to go. So there was peace, save for the grudges and fights that form, no matter how much you try to prevent it.

Sanctuary, like many other lands, was ruled by lions. Unlike many other lands, there were two kings. Reen and Gymara were brothers, twins that refused to rule unless the other was by their side. They were inseparable as cubs. The same couldn't be said as kings. They had a glorious beginning, but power brings out the best and the worst you can be. Reen was a good-hearted king; he had always been the unselfish one of the two. Gymara, however, had a tyrannical streak. He slowly grew to resent his brother for his rule, and yearned to take it from him. But the change from love to despising was slow, with years in between.

Both of the brothers had mates whom they loved dearly. Reen had his Unir, and Gymara his Adhima. Both queens viewed each other as friends, and never as rivals as Gymara came to know his brother. As can be expected, both of them became pregnant with the new princes. Adhima gave birth to a single son, Hatari. Both sets of royalty cherished the prince, and it was decided that when, in a month, Unir gave birth, the cub would, if female, be Hatari's mate, and if male, rule with him, side by side. Even then there was some difficulty in Gymara's acceptance of the second term, but it went unnoticed by trusting Reen.

One month came.

oOo

Reen paced outside the den. The den itself was nothing more than a lump rising from the ground, with a hole in the front. A very, very large lump. A short distance away from it stood the Throne. It was a slab that rose above the ground, like a chair in the fact that it had a tall slab creating a back and two smaller slabs rising up to create small sides for it. It was wide enough for a lion to lie down in it, though few kings were ever recorded to have done so. It had its back to the den, facing the rest of Sanctuary.

Reen stopped his pacing to look at it. With a sigh, he continued his pacing. He recalled how it had remained almost completely unoccupied for years. The only time he had ever sat in it was when his brother was too unwell to rule, and vice versa. Even kings became sick.

Reen didn't enjoy sitting in it. He felt he took power away from his brother whenever he did it. But Gymara had insisted on it. "Otherwise," he'd said, "we'll actually have to dust the thing when a new king does sit there." Gymara seemed to enjoy sitting on it.

Reen would have been more than happy to let him sit there, and he next to the Throne, but Gymara wouldn't allow it. "It will remain unoccupied until the one king," he'd declared, then turned to his brother with a smile and said, "Or until you get that fever again."

Reen looked back at the chair again. Maybe he would live to see it filled within his lifetime with a lion besides his father. Only Unir's cub would know, may Rahimu provide.

Another loud groan emanated from the den. Reen's pacing increased in speed. Gymara came in from the morning rounds. "So, sounds like she's still at it."

"Yes," said Reen. He was worried. He couldn't remember the last time a birth had taken this long.

"Know if there's more than one?"

"No."

"Know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"Dammit, I don't know!" Reen stopped pacing and sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that I . . ."

"I know, I know. When you get edgy, you spout off words Mom never taught us. When I get edgy . . ." Gymara's brow furrowed. "What did I do when Hatari came?"

"You just sat there staring at the Throne the whole time."

"Yeah, that's right."

Reen stared into the den. He was unable to see Unir through all of the lionesses around her. Unir was silent. The groans had been frequent in the beginning, but now they had slowed down, almost to the point where they didn't exist. Reen was worried. A prolonged series of groans came from the den. "Okay, I have it," Reen heard one of the lionesses said. The lioness suddenly yelled, "It's a boy!" Happy shouts erupted. "Unir, it's a—what, your majesty?" There was silence for Reen's ears. "Ye—yes, your majesty," the lioness said quietly. "Just . . . oh, Aiheu."

Reen stared into the den. A lioness named Kaata slowly emerged. She could understand what Reen was going through; she'd recently had a daughter of her own, Kria. The way she hung her head spoke volumes for Reen. But don't jump to conclusions, he reminded himself. Only Rahimu is all-seeing. "Well?" he asked.

Kaata looked up at him. "Sire, the cub is healthy. It is a male."

"Oh, thank the gods!" Reen brushed past Kaata and went into the den. A lioness, Hira, lied down, cleaning the new cub. She, too, had recently had cubs. Three girls: Jiru, Atanya, and Sarana, all of them nuzzled against her side for warmth. Reen stared down at the cub in pride.

Hira looked up at him. "She said his name is Rayan. For you." She went back to cleaning the prince.

"Rayan," repeated Reen softly. He turned to his mate. "It's a wonderful name, Unir." Unir was still. "Unir?" Reen stared at her gently closed eyes. "Oh, no . . . Unir." He walked to her and put his face close to hers. He stared at her peaceful face, running the back of a paw down the side of her face. "Oh, Unir . . ."

"Sire," said Adhima, "she wanted you to know she loved you. It was the last thing she . . . that she had strength to say."

Reen turned away from Unir's body, eyes tightly shut. "Leave me be."

"Reen?"

"I need to be alone."

"Yes, sire." The lionesses slowly exited. He turned back to Unir, tears filling his eyes, then sliding down his cheeks. Her majestic face had lost its glow that he'd treasured so much. He looked down at the cub, only to find it missing, along with the rest of Unir's cubs. He looked back at his mate's beautiful face and cradled it in his paw. He closed his eyes, hung his head. His first thoughts had been of anger towards the cub. He was the reason Unir was gone. But no, that was not what Unir would have wanted. She would have loved the cub. Reen would do so. He would love the cub to his full ability. For Unir.

He opened his eyes to see Kaata walking in front of him. She stopped as he saw her, embarrassed. "Begging your pardon, sire." She continued walking towards the back of the den. A cub lied there, barely two days old. Kaata picked up her daughter, left behind by the lionesses in their rush to leave. She stopped in front of Reen on her way out and laid down her cub. "Sire? What about the cub?"

Reen looked up from Unir's body. "We'll keep it, of course. It would be foolishness to kill it out of spite." He looked down at his mate. "Unir would never have wanted that. She loved life."

"Yes, sire. I didn't mean that. I meant—well, that is—sire, I was wondering if you would let me care for the cub?"

Reen looked up in surprise. "Care?"

Kaata hung her head in embarrassment. "Yes. I—I'm sorry to discuss it here, sire, but the cub needs it now. You know I got Kria just a few days ago. And I'm one of the few that have milk. Hira's got her paws full with three cubs, and all the others have cubs that are nearly able to eat. They'll run out of milk soon. I just thought . . . maybe you'd welcome the chance." She looked up at Reen, her eyes filled with an emotion he'd seen so often in Unir's. Love. Then it was gone, too quickly for Reen to even be sure it was there.

"Of course, Kaata. I would be honored to have you nurse it." He looked back down at Unir.

Kaata stared at him with longing. "Thank you, Reen," she said quietly. She picked up Kria and left to find Hira. Reen cradled his love's face in his paw.

Unir . . .

oOo

Lymo looked up as he saw the animal approach. Its walk was ungainly, and its form was a blur at that distance. As it came closer Lymo bit his lip in sorrow. There were two animals. A lion carried a lioness on his back. Lymo had prayed it wasn't that sight. He knew it could only mean one thing. He looked back up as the lion drew closer. It was Reen, his face tired, completely drained of energy. Reen looked at the leopard, sadness in his eyes. "Welcome, sire," said Lymo.

Reen gently placed Unir on the ground, then looked up at the leopard. "Hello."

Lymo looked at the lioness on the ground. "I am—deeply sorry for your loss. Who was she?"

"She was my mate. Unir." Reen touched her face with the back of his paw. "My lovely Unir."

"Sire . . . my king . . . I'm so sorry."

Reen tore his gaze from Unir and looked up at Lymo. "I need your help again. I do not know the funeral rites."

Lymo looked at Reen with something approaching amazement. "You remembered what we taught you, sire?"

"Every bit of it. And please, my friend . . . call me Reen."

"I had no idea." Lymo shook his head. "I thought you had forgotten completely. I was sure of it."

"No, friend. I follow what you taught me every day. I'm sorry that I had to come to you—like this."

"It's good to cry, Reen."

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Lymo. I don't know how I can—how I can carry—carry on . . ." Reen hung his head, his body shaking.

"There will be a way, Reen." The leopard sat next Reen. "I'll pray." He bowed his head in reverence.

"Oh, great Rahimu . . ."

hr

Rayan scampered happily into the den. He immediately went to his father. "I'm only saying, Gymara, that if we do help them, they'll become dependent on us. We can't—oh, hello, Rayan," said Reen.

"What do we care if they're dependant on us?" asked Gymara, on his back and twirling a bone between his digits on his forepaws. "They're ours that way. They'll never cause problems again. And if they do . . ."

"Gymara, that's blackmail!" Reen shook his head. "There has to be another way. If we do this, we control their food. It's not right."

"It's the only way that I can see. Look, they'll continue to pop up with problems. You know how hyenas are. Give their lazy carcasses an inch, and they'll take the whole damn—the whole darn kingdom," Gymara hastily altered, seeing Reen gesture toward his cub.

"Dad, can I go play with Sarana and the others?" asked Rayan.

"One minute son," said Reen. "Gymara, there has to be some amount of trust involved. There are plenty of animals that don't trust the lions fully, but they don't harbor it against us."

"I could name a few," muttered Gymara, turning over.

"But that's it exactly. Just a few. Just individuals. You'd be punishing every hyena if you did this. If we leave more carcasses—"

"Dad, can I, please?" interrupted Rayan.

Reen sighed. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Around."

"You need to find out."

"Wait a second," said Gymara. "Is Hatari going with you?"

"Uh-huh," nodded Rayan.

"Well, then that solves the problem. Hatari knows to stay away from the Pits, and no one even wants to go near the desert. They'll be fine."

"Yeah, we'll be fine," said Rayan excitedly. "We'll be good. Tell him, Uncle 'Mara."

"Seriously, Reen, they'll be fine. Loosen up. I guarantee they'll be fine."

"Is this a they-get-their-life-back guarantee if they die?" Reen asked coldly.

Gymara shook his head. "Reen, you're being too cautious. Remember when you were a cub? You wanted to adventure. And a he—heck of a lot more than me."

"I also remember I nearly died several times."

"Rayan!" came a voice from outside the den. "We're waiting!"

"Dad, can I please go?" begged Rayan.

Reen sighed. He looked at Gymara, who impatiently nodded his head toward the entrance of the den. "Alright." Rayan ran to the den, stopped by his father's words. "But—but if you cause any trouble, you will have a talking-to." Rayan swallowed. There had been only one previous talking-to, and it had involved a paw. Not Rayan's. "Just be careful, son."

"Okay, Dad." Rayan bounded out the den.

"Great. Now that that little irritation is over—" said Gymara.

"Irritation?" asked Reen, his tone with an edge to it.

"Mess, distraction, however you want to put it. Look, the hyenas need food, we give it to them. That simple."

Reen shook his head. "It's not that simple. There are hyenas all over Sanctuary. We may hunt everywhere, but we wouldn't supply enough. We'd be asking other animals to give up food that they need."

"Reen, there is a surplus. It means that there isn't a shortage of food. When there is a shortage, it's called a shortage. But now, it's called a surplus. Not shortage. The other animals could afford to trim down their tummies. We'd be pitching in, too. It's not like it's a horrible thing to do, asking for the kingdom to make sacrifices."

"But even if we do, we can cut off their food—"

"Oh, not again!"

"Gymara, you can't deny it! It would look like we're trying to control them. If the hyenas cause trouble, we could simply cut off their food. We may not have enough to feed them, but we have enough to make them starve."

"And there is no problem with that," said Gymara impatiently. "If the hyenas cause a problem, we may do that. And we may need to. But I'm pretty sure it won't come to that."

"No king has ever starved a group of animals!"

"Reen, what did Dad say a king was? A problem solver. I'm solving this problem. The hyenas are a pain in the ass as it is, and you know it. It's mainly because of the shortage they have of leftover meat, not surplus, and you know that, too. You know that if we do this, they'll be more obedient, more respectful, and less likely to cause problems. There is no need to ask the other animals to cut down on their food; we can supply enough to make the hyenas eat better. They may not be full, but they will be better. Whole kingdom-starving-to-death issue solved."

"But—"

"Second issue: Food control. So what if we do control the food? No one will even notice it unless they squint at it real hard, and maybe even turn their head slightly to the right. Leave it all to me. I guarantee that I will not let anything get out of control. We've shared responsibilities before. Don't you trust your own brother?"

"I'm more than sure that you can handle it—"

"Problem solved!"

"—but I don't know if you realize what you'd be doing. You would be starving innocent families. Mothers would need food, and cubs wouldn't get milk because of it! You can't just punish an entire race for a few individuals!"

Gymara sighed. "What did we do with that cheetah who was over-hunting? The one brought before us yesterday morning."

"We punished him."

"That's right. And why did we punish that cheetah, and not the entire race? Because we knew who he was. Now, nine out of ten—no, ninety-nine out of a hundred times we know who did it, whatever 'it' happens to be. Correct?"

Reen could see he was being pushed into a corner. "Yes."

"So, wouldn't we just make sure that we absolutely positively sure we didn't know before we started cutting off food? Besides, even if we did cut it off, the hyenas can hunt."

"You know they're not adept at it."

"Which is why we're doing this. We know they're carrion-eaters, we give them food. Simplicity in ruling at its best. I told you, you don't need to worry. That's all you ever seem to do. Don't you ever take any time to relax?"

"A king doesn't have time to relax. He needs to worry about his subjects. If we do this, we're forcing the hyenas to do exactly as we say. This is a diarchy, not a dictatorship. We shouldn't do this."

"Do you see any other choice?"

"No, but—"

"I haven't heard you offer anything, either. Nothing. You dragged me into here two days ago about this, and we haven't done anything. And when you were finished dragging me, quite unceremoniously by the tail I might add, I'm fairly sure I remember you pointing out that the longer we don't get this done, the longer the hyenas starve. We can start leaving carcasses tomorrow, maybe even today, if we do this now. I've given you something that would only require the lions being involved, something that gives food for hyenas, and something that is not, by any means, permanent."

"It will be permanent. They'll be dependant on it. If anything, their numbers will grow."

"Their numbers will not grow, that's why we're having the damn mess in the first place. Listen, Reen, there are more hyenas than the kingdom can handle. I've told you we should leave it alone, let some of them starve and maintain a balance, but you wanted a solution. I've given you one, and you turn it down because it gives us too much control. I can't think of anything else, you can't think of anything else. I've told you to leave it alone. You're trying to unbalance the kingdom, Reen. It's not the best thing to do."

"They're starving! You have no idea what they're like! How would you like it if Adhima came up to you with Hatari's limp body in her mouth, with both of their bodies so thin you could see their ribs?"

"I wouldn't like it at all. But numbers change. The king has to make hard choices. I've pointed all of this out to you the first day, gave you a solution the second, and you still—won't—say—yes. The only problem you really have is that we'd have too much control. When their numbers go down, we can relinquish that control. I would only stop the aid before it was necessary if it was absolutely necessary. Everything has its downfalls, Reen. This won't be perfect. Now, I'm pretty sure we've shoved aside a mountain of problems while we've been working on this one, so would you please just drop it and let us get back to work? Please?"

Reen sighed. Gymara was right. He had to do something, and soon. "Alright. Go ahead, have them start leaving behind the extra carcasses. I'm leaving this to you, Gymara."

"You're leaving this to me?"

Reen smiled. "We're leaving this to you."

"Better." Gymara got up, yawning. "Aiheu, I need a rest. Well, let's go see what we've kept waiting." Reen followed his brother out of the den. He was even more tired than Gymara. He hadn't slept in two days. They might have debated all last night, outside of the den to let the others sleep in peace, but the night before that they had decided to sleep on it.

Reen hadn't slept. He couldn't. He could only remember the small group of hyenas that had come to him, pleading for him and his brother to do something. Their coats clung to their sides, ribs showing enough for Reen to count them if he had chosen. That image had haunted him the past three days. And their stories . . . Reen wasn't sure if he'd ever get rid of them.

Reen went outside the den, the bright sunlight hurting his eyes. It was midday already. Two cheetahs waited outside, lying down and conversing with each other. They stopped talking as the kings came out and sat up, saying "Sires" roughly in unison. One of them was for Reen, the other for Gymara.

Neither Reen nor Gymara could understand how their father had kept up with the kingdom. They struggled through their shares. The two brothers split the kingdom somewhat in half according to issues. If they had looked at it closely, Reen got slightly more. Reen didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared if he did. It was barely anything.

The two cheetahs were the only way the two brothers had any idea of what was going on in the entire kingdom. They might get bits and snatches otherwise, but the cheetahs were the ones that the animals really came to with their problems. Any animal knew that if they wanted the kings to know something, tell one of the cheetahs. Their names were Sudi and Nyota. Despite their similar appearance, they insisted, to no end, that they were not related, which was complete nonsense. Everyone in Sanctuary was related to everyone else in their race, at least somewhat.

The two of them immediately began to walk their separate ways with the kings, Sudi following Gymara, Nyota accompanying Reen. Once again, of the two, Reen's side seemed to get the short end of the stick. None of the animals had a problem answering to Sudi; plenty had problems answering to Nyota. Nyota was a female. But she had proved, over and over, her willingness to shine. She stuck to whatever Reen, and occasionally Gymara, assigned her, despite the numerous insults to her and her gender.

It wasn't popular for Reen to have a female advisor, but she stayed. The insults slowly did fade away after the first few months. Reen had no end of respect toward her. The only shortcoming she seemed to have was to take any insult to Reen as an insult to herself, despite Reen's insistence that it was good to critique the rulers.

"Well?" she asked, omitting the usual "sire." There was no need for it in private. It was a comfort she had that few other animals received. Reen felt fairly sure that Gymara didn't allow Sudi the pleasure, for some odd reason. But Nyota was almost like family.

"It's done," he said.

"And?"

"We decided to do it."

"Sire, are you trying to cause me undue pain?"

Reen smiled. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried. We've decided to start killing carcasses for the hyenas. And leaving more on our own when we finish. It should help. Some."

"Is that doubt I hear creeping into your voice?"

"Yes."

"I don't see why it would be there. Unless, of course, you realized you'd be putting a stranglehold on the hyenas by controlling their food supply completely."

Reen looked over at her, eyes widened in surprise. "You found that out that quickly?"

Nyota laughed. "Sire, it's my job to do that. Let's say I come up to you, saying . . . saying that the cheetahs had put in a request to not have to share a waterhole with any other animals. That waterhole over by the edge of the desert, on the southern end of the kingdom. You know it?"

"Yes."

"Well, what would you say if I told you the cheetahs wanted it for themselves and just themselves?"

"Well . . . the cheetahs have been exemplary members of the kingdom. You're a perfect example of that."

"Thank you, sire."

"I'd say let them have it."

Nyota smiled. "Sire, that is quite possibly the worst thing to do."

"What? But we should reward the cheetahs."

"The cheetahs have a feud going on with the leopards. Just a minor one, between a couple of families, but it's still enough to have them all uneasy. And that waterhole is a prime source of water for leopards. There're more leopards there than there are cheetahs. If the cheetahs took that, they'd anger the leopards further, and plenty of that anger would be coming at you for what you did. Not to mention all the anger from the other animals who rely on it. That's one of the biggest waterholes there is." Nyota turned her grin to him. "But I'm sure you were just testing me."

Reen blinked. "I—how can you do all of that?"

Nyota laughed. "It's quite easy, sire. It's exactly what you do, but on a much smaller scale. It's basically what you did with the hyenas, only I have to do it for everything the buggers come at me with. Besides, you usually find much more than I do on the surface. I deal with all of the little problems, choosing what to present to you—and let you deal with all the big things that the animals have."

"You censor your report?" asked Reen, incredulous.

"Would you rather me not?"

"Of course not! I'm supposed to hear the kingdom."

"Very well, sire. Just give me a moment to remember all the things I forgot." Nyota paused, reflecting on details. She began to spew information forward. "There were three cubs born to a hyena today, she hopes that you will take very good care of them. The gazelle continue to complain about how the elephants are tracking so much mud into the waterholes, they say that it's hard on their soft throats. The antelopes are demanding that they be eaten less. The leopards wish to bring their feud to your attention, despite the protests from the cheetahs. The—"

"Alright, alright, you can stop," said Reen.

"See what I mean, sire? All of those little details would just pile up on you. You'd never be able to sleep at night, worrying yourself sick about them. I don't know how you do sleep as it is," she mused absentmindedly.

"Yes, I see what you mean. But I thought you actually censored it—"

"You thought I'd give the report with a slant?" Nyota asked in mock horror. "Sire!" Reen chuckled. "You know I'd do nothing more than put a sarcastic spin on it."

"And not enough of one on some days." Reen fell silent, staring at the ground moodily.

Nyota's usual smile faded off her face. "It's—it's the anniversary, isn't it? Today?"

Reen nodded gravely. "Yes." He tried to swallow down a lump in his throat. "I was married today. Just three years ago." A tear slid down his face. Unir . . . He suddenly became conscious of the tear and wiped it off hurriedly.

"We're alone, sire," said Nyota gently. "You don't have to hide it."

"She died six months ago, Nyota. Six months." He looked up at his advisor. "Is it normal to feel this way after this long?" He sighed, looking back down. "But how would you know?"

"I—I lost my sister. One and a half years ago. She went out for a drink of water and never came back. I found her body on my way to you. She'd been half-eaten. The wild dogs must have run away when they heard us coming. Me and my mother. And I had to just go on to you, and just go through the day, like nothing had happened at all."

"You shouldn't have come," said Reen, shocked at what she had done.

"I'd like to see you walk at all without your set of legs," said Nyota with a smile. "But I still think about her, sire. I place these wonderful purple flowers that she used to love where she used to sleep. Every year. On her birthday. Your anniversary, sire." She looked up at Reen's surprised face with a smile. "She was born the day you got married."

"But—but that means she was just—"

"Just one and a half when she died. She left us far too soon. But I still think about her. Always. I'll never forget her. I'd never want to, either. You shouldn't want to forget your mate, Ree—sire."

"Reen is fine, Nyota. In private."

Nyota smiled. "Thank you, sire." Reen felt another tear try to make its way out. "Just remember your mate, sire. It's good that you do. It's okay to cry, sire. Even if it is in front of a subject." Reen looked away sadly. Nyota looked at him for a second, then pushed him playfully in the shoulder. "Come on, sire. It's a happy day. It's your anniversary, my sister's birthday—we've got things to be happy for. Do you really think ma'am would be happy if she saw you moping on your anniversary?"

Reen smiled slightly. "I know she'd hit you for calling her 'ma'am.'"

Nyota laughed. "Yeah, she always did hate the title. See? There are good things to remember, too. Think positive."

"Nyota—Nyota, I still feel as if something's missing. It was wonderful when I had Unir. I didn't care that I was king, I had her. I loved her, Nyota. So much. And ever since she died . . . I just felt—empty. She gave me something I didn't have. And I don't have it any more."

"Sire . . . Well, I don't really have anything to say. I don't have a mate. I don't know what it's like. I mean, I remember my parents, but their relationship, compared with you and hers . . . You two seemed perfect for each other. But sire, she did give you something. She gave you a son. Rayan is here, at least. Her legacy."

"The cause of her death." A cold edge had entered Reen's voice that he hadn't intended to put there.

Nyota bit her lip. She knew she wasn't the best at consoling others. She more or less stumbled across the right thing. But she knew that wasn't it. "Sire—"

"I love him, Nyota. I really do. With all my heart. But every time I look at him, I can't help but remember that. I—I tell myself I don't love him any less for it. I really think I don't. But I just can't get out of my mind what a price his life came at. I just wonder what Unir would think of him, if she were here. I had four years with her, really with her, and I only married her for two and a half of those. I miss her, Nyota."

"I'd be very worried if you didn't, sire." She wiped away a tear from Reen's eye. Reen's eyes defied her, pouring out more moisture. Nyota swallowed. She loved Reen like a brother. Almost all the subjects liked the king. Gymara was a slightly different story, but everyone loved Reen.

But he never allowed them to see this side, the side that showed so much sorrow. If one of the lionesses had told Nyota about Reen's sleep, how he would mutter "Unir" softly while he slept, and would sometimes wake up with a jerk, and go outside to be alone to cry, Nyota wouldn't have any trouble believing them. It was well known how much the king loved his mate. But now he showed himself to her, how he felt, dropping the thin façade he had carried around her ever since Unir's death.

Nyota reached out a foreleg. "Come here." Reen wrapped a foreleg around her and pulled her close, pressing harder than she had expected with his leonine strength. She heard him as he wept into her neck, his head bending down to reach hers. She slowly wrapped a foreleg around his back and rubbed gently.

It flickered across her mind what an odd scene it would have made if an animal were to come, seeing the king clutching his advisor close to him, weeping. Just a flicker. She didn't care how she was seen with Reen. She'd feel no guilt if found. They were just two animals, suffering together. Just because he was king, it didn't mean Reen had no feeling, despite how much Reen tried to hide his sorrow from the kingdom.

Reen finally pulled away from her, embarrassed as she thought he'd be. "It's okay to cry, Reen. Really." She gave him a kiss on the face, a sisterly lick.

"I should have done it with someone else. A lioness, or Gymara. Not you."

"Sire," she said, in mock anger. "I'm below them? I can't believe you." She tried to cheer him up. "And I thought you trusted me." She turned her back to him.

Reen sighed. He knew she was joking. He still felt the need to explain himself. "It's just that you're my advisor, Nyota. You're not a counselor."

"Sire," she said, turning back around, "I'm your advisor. I may help you with the kingdom, but you need more than that." Reen looked away, still feeling guilty. "Sire, I'll be honest. Your ways with the kingdom have changed ever since ma'am's death. You've worked a lot harder. You're putting everything you have into it. But you're overdoing it, sire. You're straining yourself. You need to talk. With someone. Please, Reen, talk with me."

"Now?"

"You're king now. Later." Nyota bit her lip, thinking. "I'm holding my sister's memorial tonight. We could talk there. If you want. I understand if there are lionesses that—"

He wiped away the tears on his face. "Nyota, I wouldn't think of staining Unir's memory with another mate."

Nyota smiled. "Lionesses aren't just for mating, sire. No more than hyenas are there just to scavenge."

"It'd end up looking that way. . . . I'll be honest, Nyota. I couldn't ask you. You have the entire kingdom with me—"

"Half. Sudi and Gymara have the other."

"I just couldn't ask. Thank you."

"Of course, sire." She paused, weighing her next comment. "Do we feel like putting our mask on again and being king now?"

Reen smiled. "I can survive until tonight."

"Good. 'Cause I'm about to forget all of this crap." Reen gave a small laugh. "Okay, let's see . . . first thing we need to do is take care of the leopard problem, and then some of the snakes actually want an audience in the first time in who knows how long . . ."