Disclaimer: I do not own Thundercats 2011.
Collar
Chapter I:
The Prince's Slave
Despite everything, Wilykit found herself marveling at the sheer beauty of the throne room of Thundera. Her father had told them of the legendary beauty of the palace, but to see it was something else. Everything was so big, polished, clean! The sun streaming in, lighting up the polished marble that reflected her and the cleric beside her.
She felt her tail tick in, as she wanted to shrink in on herself and disappear. She just felt filthier than ever next to the perfection surrounding her. And more than that, wanting to escape the attention of the great lion who sat enthroned above her.
Another figure out of stories, King Claudus IV of Thundera, direct descendant of Leo the Thundercat. He was huge, bigger than her father, with a great red mane and dressed in the blue finery of the royal house. His golden circlet seemed a waste; he could sit on a frayed wicker chair in rags and still be unmistakable as a king, the kit thought.
Two Cats sat in lesser thrones flanking him. The elder prince, the much heralded Tygra. He looked mildly interested in the proceedings, but seemed more intent on his father and brother. The Grand Cleric Jagga sat on his throne, clad in a far more intricate uniform and armor than his subordinate beside her. No veil hid the elder jaguar's wrinkled face. She was surprised when he met her stare and his white mustache twitched in a smile.
Kit almost gasped at the gesture from another great cat.
"Lion-o," the King rumbled. He even talked like a king!
The young lion, who stood with his back to her, winced visibly. He had taken the time to remove the cloak he had tried to disguise himself with.
A bad disguise – Wilykat had spotted him as an easy mark. A stranger to the slums, a rich cat disguised to blend in. Probably looking to buy scandalous things, and with a heavy purse for it. But no one would mind them robbing a stranger, or stick their paws out to aid some rich boy in a chase.
It had gone perfectly. Kat, with the bump and distraction, and Kit had slipped behind and slit his purse from his belt. It had been heavy. And his senses were sharp enough to realize she was there, a moment too late.
Kit had not worried about the bigger cat catching her, even without Kat distracting him. Slummers and soldiers were dangerous, survivors, like they had become. But rich cats exerted themselves for play or lessons, they did not know how to move unexpectedly and tired quickly. Kit had been a farm girl, working long hours as soon as her parents deemed her back strong enough, making her games around the needs of the farm. And then she had needed to survive in the slums where every adult was a potential predator.
His legs were longer, but she was smaller, and knew her way around. His angry shouts quickly receded and stopped.
Giving up as expected – they would eat well tonight, maybe get some good patches for their clothes, too.
Then the cleric had snatched her clear off the ground. And so matters had proceeded from there.
"Father," the prince answered.
"Why in the name of the Great Sky Cat's claws were you in the slums? You were supposed to be studying the classics today," the King demanded.
"I… asked around, and heard there was a dog who sells technology. Real tech from the wastelands!" Lion-o answered. The King sighed, and for a moment he looked like a father rather than a king.
"It figures," the tiger prince said. He looked like he was going to laugh, until he caught the glance the king gave him.
"Again, your obsession with legends, Lion-o. Would that you applied yourself to anything else so diligently.
"Jagga, your clerics knew of this and did nothing?" Claudus asked.
"We are the guardians of the crown, not its jailers. Young Lion-o was never in any danger. And you might recall in your youth, Caludus, that I allowed you misadventures to find yourself away from the ceremony of the palace," the elder cat said gently.
"Really?" Lion-o asked, turning his head toward the cleric. The tiger also looked surprised.
"…True, old friend, but this youthful folly has consequences. Lion-o, do you understand what you have done? This pickpocket has committed a crime against the Crown Prince. For a commoner cat, the penalty is at minimum losing the paw used to commit the crime," King Claudus explained.
"No!" Kit shrieked, hiding her paws in her armpits. Her tail fur stood on end and she would have bolted had the cleric not grabbed her shoulder. She flinched and sank back to her knees at the painfully tight grip.
All eyes were on her as she whimpered, held down by the enrobed figure.
"A paw?" Lion-o asked, numbly.
"I didn't know!" Wilykit shrieked in protest. Claudus scowled, looking to his son.
"That is true, she did not know. Because what prince would hide their status and skulk about the slums? Much less do so and let himself be robbed like some fat merchant? By a child no less?" Claudus growled.
The Prince wilted before his father; Kit would find it funny he was angrier at the cat that was not going to loss a paw, if she weren't terrified.
She was going to be crippled. Standing out was dangerous. She would be a burden to Kat. And if it got bad… people did not get better from being sick in the slums.
She wouldn't be able to play her flute!
"Father, you can't be serious. She's just a kit," Lion-o said softly.
"The law is clear. It is time you learned a hard lesson my son – as a royal, others pay for your poor choices. I regret it, but perhaps a sharp lesson," the King muttered, looking away.
"Your Majesty, I do not think such… extreme interpretations are necessary," Jagga spoke up.
"Yes!" Lion-o shouted. A look from his father shut him up.
"Explain, Jagga," the King said. The elderly cleric nodded to the King before speaking.
"As you say, the law is clear – even if she was ignorant, she has committed a crime against the royal family. But it is clear her acts were not only ignorant, but driven by survival. To enforce the law so unbendingly would tarnish the royal family, not uphold its honor.
"Rather than take a hand, bind both hands, to the service of the royal family."
"Enslavement? You, Jagga?" Prince Tygra spoke up in surprise. Claudus looked to her; she tried to make herself as small as possible.
"Not to the royal family, to you, Lion-o," Claudus said finally.
"Father?" Lion-o asked. The King nodded, some of his foul mood seeming to lift.
"Yes, this slum cat will be your personal slave as Crown Prince. You will be responsible to see to it she has duties assigned and her needs met.
"I have long found the enslavement of Cats, as if they were lower races, a troubling matter. Free servants attend to my needs well enough. But this is an exceptional circumstance.
"The Guard instilled responsibility and discipline in Tygra at a young age. You are not the natural warrior he is, so a different approach, that will hopefully bring you to the same summit," King Claudus said.
"Well said Majesty, experience is the greatest teacher," Jagga agreed.
"Well, little brother, we just might see the top of your desk again," Prince Tygra joked.
"Uh, I really don't need-" Lion-o stuttered, looking over his shoulder at her.
"You have no say in this matter. And rest assured I will be displeased if your negligence extends into this arrangement," Claudus said. He looked to her again, and pointed a claw at her.
"Come forward," he commanded. Gulping, Kit half walked, half scampered onto the seal of the Thundercats carved into the floor, kneeling next to the red haired prince. She could see her face reflected in the polished marble. Wondering how they had laid the red and black crest into the floor, she was snapped out of it by the King speaking.
"Kit, your name," the King commanded.
"Wilykit, Your Majesty! Of clan Feralli," she said. She could imagine them exchanging looks at the clan name. Ferallis were peasants at best and only contributed to the empire as soldiers to die in battle or working a few scratch marks above slaves. The city Ferallis, Kat and her had known better than to even ask for help.
Their father had struck out on his own for a reason.
"Wilykit of the Feralli, do you accept indenture to Lion-o, Crown Prince of Thundera, as penance for your crimes? To be held as his property until your death or the King of Thundera declares your debt paid?" he asked.
'A choice?' she thought, daring a glance up at the King, who had stood up from his throne. The alternative being losing a paw?
Rich people were strange.
"I accept, Your Majesty," she answered.
'Sorry Kat, at least you won't have to look after me now,' she thought. The King spoke again, a guard with fancier armor adorned with red stepping forward.
"Send word to the Chamberlain, Captain. All of Prince Lion-o's personal attendants are dismissed from their duties to him. Their responsibilities now fall to his slave, Wilykit of the Royal Palace. The Chamberlain and other staff are forbidden to assist him in the managing of his room, possessions, or person beyond the advice of a peer," the King decreed.
Soon enough, the throne room was gone like a dream and Kit was standing on a stool in a room full of more clothing and cloth than she had ever imagined in one place. An elderly gray panther woman with spectacles looked her over as two girls slightly older than Kit rushed about.
"A royal slave been too long. Still, we have excess uniforms; you'll be washing them yourself, understand? Take care, the palace has standards to uphold," the old woman grumbled. Kit looked to the mirror to her right, tall enough for most grown-ups to view themselves. A fat woman had scrubbed her quite quickly and vigorously before tossing her in here naked.
Now she wore a dark gray dress with blue trimming. It was sleeveless, the dark blue straps even exposing her shoulders. The skirt went down to her ankles, and a cloth belt of gray left it tightened around her waist.
Her hair had been pulled out of its coil, letting her ears stick out to the side. It made her look too much like her twin, she thought. Besides, having her ears not pulled back just felt wrong.
"Where is my-?" she asked the matron.
"Those rags are burned by now, and a slave asks for nothing. If you want something, beg it of your master. Personally, you are fortunate – the Crown Prince is a weakling. If only his brother could be king someday," the matron almost swooned at the thought of the tiger prince. Kit put a hand to her mouth, giggling.
The cheer died as the matron glared at her. One of the girls (granddaughters of the matron?) handed the matron a small lacquered wood box, with a copper latch.
Smiling in a way Kit did not like, the matron unlatched the box and pulled out a golden band. It was beautiful, about an inch tall, the mark of the Thundercats stamped on it. The matron tipped it, letting Kit see the inside. That was not gold, it was iron; the collar was plated. Kit felt her tail droop at that thought.
"Well, wagger, time to put it on," the matron said. The circle was broken, Kit realized, and the old cat spread it wide. It reminded her of a crawdad claw, and she felt a moment of panic as the old cat put it around her neck.
Click
"You will notice there is no keyhole on the outside. It's been three hundred years since a royal slave had their collar removed while still living. This will be with you until you go to the pyre, the gold to be scrapped from the stone and your ashes scattered.
"Your collar, to remind everyone, especially you, of your place," the matron smiled.
Numbly, Kit hooked two fingers under the collar and gave it a tug. There was room to spare on her scrawny neck, but she could tell it would not slip over her head. She let it fall to rest on her and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked better than she probably had since father died.
The collar was a pretty thing. The glittering gold gave no hint of the iron underneath.
Two Years Later:
Wilykit paced outside the great double door of the throne room. The sun shone in through the windows, morning was past, and it was indeed the beautiful day she had guessed when looking out her small window to check the shadows for time.
The routine was simple. Wake up early, clean and dress herself, small breakfast. Fetch breakfast for the Prince if he had not been summoned to share breakfast with someone. Wake him and present him with the food.
Then lay out fresh clothes per his preferences or needs for the day. After that, it was either dispatched to another task or shadowing him until the evening, ready to serve any need. And evening meant washing clothes, cleaning and dusting the chambers, and any other tasks that were required. Then a nice, filling dinner of solid servant food, before crawling into her bed.
It had been a hard load at first, but as a farm girl she had routine ingrained into her. In a way, it reminded her of better times, before wandering the slums in search of marks, uncertainty in every day.
But today she had laid the tray before an empty unmade bed. And sure enough, a set of clothing was missing, along with that Sky Cat-cursed cloak.
Hadn't she reminded him what day it was?! She bared her teeth, her tail bristling in frustration.
A snicker from one of the guards snapped her out of her anger. Clearing her throat, she checked herself in the polished floor. She had grown into her fourteen years. She was clearly growing more like the slender beauties of the court than into a fat cat like the matron. Her hair was pulled back properly again; other cats may not understand how her breed's unique ear structure called for certain propriety, but she did! She may have lived in slums, but she was no tramp stray.
And no, she supposed she did not look like she had ever lived there. She looked like what she was – a well cared for slave with a glittering collar that made her paradoxically lower than most cats, but higher than many.
She ran her tail through her hands, pressing the fur back into place. She adored the modification that let her tail move freely instead of being stuffed in her skirt. Lion-o could be considerate when he wanted to.
Which made this situation all the more frustrating!
Down in the slums again, no doubt. Probably looking over more of the strange garbage that shysters called tech to separate him from his money.
She wished she could share his enthusiasm. The stories he related were incredible. But, it just did not work. And he keep on as if one day if he kept looking, he would find some mystic piece that would turn all the mockery his obsession earned him on its head.
She was uncertain that would ever happen. She was certain the King was getting angrier by the minute as the Princely Rite of Passage was short a prince.
When the door opened and a guard called her in, she gulped.
'Prince Lion-o, I will over-starch your pants for a month for this!' she vowed. Him off enjoying himself, staring at junk, while she – yet again – had to make excuses to King Claudus.
XXX
"Whiskers," Lion-o cursed. Three of them. He knew he could take one thug; he may not have been the best student, but he had been trained under Panthro, Grune, and other instructors. Two was a good bet as well; they would likely underestimate him. But three, with only a dagger and his own claws?
Okay then, fat and big, skinny and quick, and a woman who was not very attractive, looking like she wanted to cut his ears off.
He was very glad Tygra was not here to tell him he should have just left the old dog to them.
As he dodged the first strike and landed a solid hit, he admitted he still wasn't regretting it. That old dog was probably a discarded slave; there were few ways for poor animals of other races to make their ways to the slums. Legally, at any rate. A lot were slaves that their owners could get no more work from and could not sell for even a song.
The fat guy body-checked him good. Lion-o was able to block and take the blow, but the difference in strength and size was great enough that hardly mattered.
He fell back, his cloak opening to reveal his fine blues underneath.
"Well boys, what have we here?" the dark-haired thug woman said, smiling.
A streak of yellow, orange, and black whipped through the backstreet, and a woman appeared before him. A cheetah, he realized, seeing her speckles, and as she was standing like that… well, the view was nice.
He watched silently as the staff-twirling cheetah seemingly effortlessly knocked out the thugs. As the last one collapsed with a groan, she turned to face him, a half smile on her face as she planted her staff.
Even better, he thought of the new view. Women at the palace never showed this much fur. And that face. The streak of orange over her eyes and the ridge of her nose was not what he had been told to look for in a woman. But it looked good.
"You alright?" the cheetah asked him.
"Uh, yeah. I could have handled this," he said lamely. She smiled a bit wider and he picked himself up.
"Why would a prince risk his life coming to the slums?" the cheetah asked. She had long hair, not tied up or clearly styled in any way. It looked good.
"Would you like to see?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow, but nodded.
'Yes,' Lion-o thought.
XXX
Lion-o was pleasantly surprised that the cheetah did not comment as they made their way around the junkyard to the shack that held the shop. He knew his dog associate did not live here, but the business being out of the way helped. Even the beggars tended to not linger amongst the refuse of Thundera.
"A junk store?" she remarked, following him in. He resisted an urge to sigh at the depressingly typical reaction. Was he the only cat that saw more than bits of wire and metal? She even held that small frown as she poked at a metal hand resting on a shelf. He had checked, and it seemed to most closely resemble a bear paw.
"Not junk, young Miss, technology. Welcome back, young prince," the old dog smiled behind his counter. Lion-o smiled and clasped hands with the fellow enthusiast over the counter. The dog saw what the prince did not, the cheetah's eyes widen for a moment at the friendly greeting.
"Fakes," the cheetah replied neutrally, sounding a bit bored.
"You have anything new from your trip?" Lion-o asked.
"Yes, plenty of the usual scraps, but something new as well. And not from the usual places," the floppy-eared canine said. He reached under the counter and pulled a bundle of dark thick cloth out. Placing it on the counter, he let the eager young cat unwrap it.
"Found it in a ditch while cutting through Lizard country. Would have passed it had a patrol not forced me to hide in the grass. Luckily, they were just bored young recruits.
"As you can see, the item is in excellent condition. Some unlucky collector is missing a fine piece, I expect," the dog told them. Lion-o picked up the circular metal object. It was more complex than it first appeared, buttons and switches, like he had seen on the mechanics of some of the canals or cleric locks.
"Technology is just a myth," the cheetah stated, looking at the item.
"Then what do you call this?" the dog asked affably.
"A fake, crafted by animals like you to make money off cats like him. If technology was real, why has no one ever been able to produce any of those legendary wonders? Magic has missing pieces, but what we have works. These… what can they do?" she asked, gesturing to the stock.
"The Book of Omens spoke of technology. We take the book's words absolutely for magic and the Thundercats, so why do we dismiss it when it comes to technology? The mathematicians think the world is much bigger than our ancestors thought. I mean, the Quest of Omens has been out there for years. Maybe the proof is out there plain as magic in Thundera," Lion-o said, still looking over the piece.
"Well, I suppose that is something. But doesn't a prince have other things to worry over than technology?" she asked. Lion-o paused, and almost dropped the piece of tech.
"Whiskers!"
He hastily paid for the tech and ran from the shack. Stopping a few yards out, he looked back to see the amused cheetah watching him.
"I never got your name!" he called.
"Cheetara, good luck," she called, as he resumed his flight.
"Nice, a bit strange, but nice," she said to herself.
XXX
"Late, today of all days," King Claudus complained on his throne. Wilykit knelt before the King, Prince Tygra, and the Chief Cleric on their respective thrones. Looking up, she saw the irritated King, the serene cleric, and the tiger prince making himself more comfortable and stifling a yawn.
"I apologize for his tardiness, Your Graces. I should have reminded him of today's events last night," she said to the most powerful cats in the world.
"I believe you did remind him," Jagga commented.
"It is a sad day when the Crown Prince's personal slave is more dutiful than the Crown Prince. Why can't he be more like you, Tygra?" the King asked.
"You're asking for the impossible, father. Girl, you have made his excuses, why not see if you can find your master instead," Prince Tygra ordered. He was not her master, but it would be foolish to invoke that. Besides, as she rose from the polished marble, she was grateful; at least it got her out of the room.
She let out a deep breath when the doors closed behind her. Now to just-
Kit glanced down the hall and saw Lion-o running down it at full tilt toward her. Her fur stood up as she planted her fists on her waist.
"Master!" she hissed, bringing him up short.
"Sorry," Lion-o said, catching his breath.
"You're late," she said, jumping up to take his cloak off with practiced ease. It stank of the slums.
"Sorry," he repeated. She sniffed him and gave a low, despairing sound at his odor. No time for a bath. At least he still looked presentable.
"They have been asking me where you are," she snapped. Folding the cloak under one arm, she hoped the stench would not stick to her before she had a chance to either toss it, or burn it.
"Sorry!" he said. She pulled one of the doors open herself and he went past her, still saying "sorry".
Then she noticed he had some package still tucked in one arm.
'Sky Cat, why?' she asked, following after him.
When Lion-o stopped before the throne, he noticed he still held his luggage, more junk likely, and looked around in half panic for somewhere to put it. He tossed it to Wilykit, who yowled, dropping the cloak to catch the surprisingly heavy thing.
"Nice work," Tygra said to her. Wilyit nodded thanks, before backing off to stand by one of the pillars as the great cats rose from their thrones.
"Let this sacred rite of passage begin," King Claudus said. Jagga stepped forth, raising his ornate staff.
"Guardians of the Crown, bring forth the Sword of Omens!" Jagga called. The doors opened wide, and though they had not been in the hall moments ago, nine clerics majestically marched into the throne room in procession.
There were nine of them, hidden beneath the golden sky car helms, the white veils and tan armor of their order. She couldn't even be sure of their genders watching the procession, their shapes hidden.
Six marched in rows of three, staffs held at ready, flanking a single unarmed cleric who carried a cushion covered in white cloth. Two more clerics walked ahead and to the side, as if to clear away nonexistent obstacles.
The procession halted before Lion-o, the three high cats descending the stairs to stand with him. Jagga spoke, taking a place beside the Crown Prince:
"While you are indeed destined to wear the crown by birth, young Lion-o, only the Eye of Thundera, the source of our power, will determine if you have the soul of a king," The Chief Cleric declared. The central cleric stepped forward, leaving the protection of its peers, kneeling and holding out its burden.
Jagga pulled the cloth away, and despite having seen it many times, Kit saw her master look in awe on the sword.
"The Sword of Omens and the Eye of Thundera, to see the truth and to wield might in its name. There have been many crowns, many palaces, the power of the Gauntlet has faded, and the Book lost. But the Sword and the Eye have passed though the hands of every king, granting or withholding their blessing.
"Take up the sword, become one with it," Jagga commanded. She watched with bated breath as Lion-o lifted the sword gently and held it before himself. She smiled when he fixed it in a proper grip and gave two practice swings before holding it before himself, smiling at the blade.
Then King Claudus stepped forward.
"Let me show you what the Sword is capable of in the proper hands," the King declared. Lion-o surrendered the sword almost reflexively as his father walked past him. Prince Tygra stepped up, carrying a sword of his own. Lion-o stepped back to make room for the spar between two of the great swordsmen of Thundera.
"Uh-oh! Catch!" Tygra shouted cockily, tossing his sword towards his brother casually. Lion-o panicked a moment, grabbing the blade out of the air.
Then with a roar and flash of lightning, King Claudus was upon him. The Prince blocked, but the force of his father's blow sent him to the floor. He had to use the momentum to roll back to his feet in time to catch the next blow. He kept his feet, if only barely, still forced back.
It was like the stories – steams of white lightning came from the Sword, tearing through the air. It was beautiful and terrifying. What must it be like for the Prince, she wondered?
"The Book of Omens tell us it was Leo, the Lord of the Thundercats, who used this very sword to defeat Mumm-Ra! It was the Thundercats who laid the foundations of Thundera. It was the Thundercats who brought order to a world of warring animals!
"And now it is through the legacy of the Thundercats that we maintain this fragile order!" Claudus proclaimed, striking anew with each statement. At last he relented, looking upon his son. Lion-o was breathing hard, clearly the worse for wear, even as Claudus looked to have barely exerted himself.
Still, he stood and held his sword at ready.
The King gave a very small nod, then turned and walked to the great seal. Reversing his grip, the King plunged the Sword of Omens into the seal, lightning streaming out of it, sending the shadows of the courtroom dancing.
"Now, claim it," Claudus commanded over the living energy. Lion-o dropped the sword he held and walked up to the seal. He stopped, hesitating a moment before the onslaught of energy. The lightning receded, leaving only a few sparks emerging from the Eye itself.
The moment seemed to stretch for ages before the Prince stepped forward, and pulled the blade clear with ease. Once again, he swung the sword, and the lightning surged.
"Yes, that's it," King Claudus said, as Lion-o swung the sword with growing confidence, the lightning surging about his arm without harm.
Then the Prince lowered the tip to nearly touch the seal, which glowed red, almost obscuring him from sight. With a snapping motion, he pulled the sword back up, holding it before him, the Eye held between his own.
And he stopped.
Wilykit cocked her head; the stillness seemed to drain the mysticism out of the air, the sun and wind entered through the windows again, and even the clerics in their bronze armor and white cloth stood to the sides mundanely.
"Why did you stop?" the King demanded. Lion-o flinched, lowering the sword.
"I, saw something," Lion-o said.
"Tell us," Jagga responded. Kit found herself drawing close with the rest. Lion-o pointed to the nearest window.
"That," he said. Kit looked with the rest of them. A pair of lovely young noble cat women were walking through the garden below. Well-shaped beauties, very well attired.
"Me-ow," Lion-o said, taking a place leaning against the windowsill.
'Oh why?' Kit wondered, looking to the ceiling.
The King snatched the sword from Lion-o's hand. She watched the blade retract, letting Claudus return it to its sheath in the Gauntlet of Leo.
"The sword is ready Lion-o, but you are not," The King declared. He turned and left. Soon she and Lion-o were alone in the throne room.
"My prince, you should change into fresh clothes," she said to him.
"Yeah, wash away the shame, eh Kit?" he muttered, walking past her. Kit followed after, before detouring to avoid following him into the royal gardens; he always wanted to be alone there, unless he told her otherwise.
Her direct path to his quarters was blocked, she sensed, stopping at the corner. Hopefully it wasn't kitchen slaves again.
"I asked you to keep an eye on him today for a reason," someone said. Prince Tygra?
"I did, he would have been injured or ransomed had I not been there," some woman replied.
"My brother is not so weak as to get beaten by petty thugs. I hope," Prince Tygra said.
"Well, at least his heart seems to be in the right place," the unseen woman said.
"It's his head I worry about. Couldn't you have gotten him back here on time? Father will not forget this."
It occurred to her she might not want to hear this. Kit decided to take the long way. A prince meeting with strange women was just a little too high for her rank, particularly when it was not her prince.
Author's Note:
And here is "Collar" a little project that had been bouncing around in my mind for a time. I first wanted to do a TC 2011 AU fic after season one, where I felt there was good opportunity for divergence. That idea "For the Pride!" never really developed especially amidst my other projects.
This idea came along last year, and absorbed a good bit of material that had been part of the FtP idea. Though it veers as you can see into more AU than divergence at times.
Yes I aged up the Wilyies. For the darker story here it seemed better to have them add a few years.
Also Snarf is cut. I originally intended to have him but in october I forget whether he wasp art of the story or not and had to go check my stuff. And realized if Snark's role was so small I the writer could forget, was it really worth keeping? The 2011 Snarf I concluded is far better suited to visual media like the cartoon than writing like what I was going for.
As for shipping. I have plans, but shipping is secondary as a concern here. Like some other fans I feel shipping tension was overplayed with the love triangle and contributed to the cancelation of the series. So ships, such as they are here will not be revealed until they are revealed. And just because people get together is no guarantee they will stay together.
Heck the story may develops such that I scrap my original ideas on it as I have in the past for plot stations.
What else to mention? Okay two more things:
One, as part of the attempt some realism time will pass. The Quest I expect to take the characters several years of wandering Third Earth. Also the various cultures ill be touched upon with the worldbuilding such as I tend to do.
Two, I actually stopped work on this story back in October. In short RL and the decision to work more seriously on my original fiction saw this project cut from my line up.
Its getting posted now because looking back I saw about three chapters worth of the story had already been written. So why not clean them up and post? So after those chapters are posted I am not sure when the next will come.
Well that's more than enough for an AN. Hope you enjoyed the start of this story and will continue too.