He paced the dimly-lit floor of the room, the early dawn pouring through the windows at his sides. For his exchanges with ordinary folk, not nobility like he, the man was dressed in a simple attire for his people, and for many folk in general: a loincloth, a pair of leather greaves. Normally the dawn's breaking across the savannah skies gave him ease, but right now not even the wondrous orange light of the holy sun could ease his fears.
Thus he paced across the baked clay floors, toe-claws clicking and scraping against each tile on his path. In just the room beyond, the healers of his kingdom were tending to his wife, his love and joy. Not the best healers, as he did not want to whisk them away from their duties, but capable hands nonetheless gave aid to his beloved. Soon, his child would enter into the world, breathing in the stagnant air of the castle's infirmary, and he would behold his wife and child with the glory that his goddess would give him.
But even then, he feared deeply.
He was not human, but was merely shaped like one. No, the mighty husband and soon-to-be father was a son of lions, a bestial being known in that land as a Brigalian. He was covered head to toe in a tawny pelt, retractable claws poking from each digit, a brush-tipped tail and a thick mane among his leonine traits. The beast-man continued to walk about, and though his rippling muscles and fierce countenance made him intimidating to look at to lesser men, he felt like nothing but a coward.
What if something happened to his wife during his child's birth? No. Aziza never had any sort of heart issues, and was as mighty of a woman as could be. What if something terrible befell the child during birth, or they had some sort of deformity? Then what would happen would happen, and if the child lived, they would be the husband and wife's beloved kid nonetheless. But no matter how many times he tried to reassure himself, the great king Mosi still feared.
What if she ended up just like-
"Mosi, my liege", a gruff, masculine voice spoke out, a hand clapping onto Mosi's shoulder. Startled in his terrified state, Mosi whirled around, but the voice's owner was a sight for sore eyes. Standing there was an old friend of war and service to the leonine kingdom, and a human that Mosi trusted more than any other. Outfitted in a tunic down to his knees, a simple overcoat and leather sandals, the dark-skinned man grinned, that tobacco pipe clenched by teeth at the side of his lips. His hair was dark, and his beard scruffy and thick as always, the middle-aged warrior having never shaved a day in his life.
"Sir Isaac", spoke Mosi, incredulous but pleased. "What are you doing up this early in the morn…?"
Isaac chuckled, his pipe wiggling on his mouth, "Oh, calm yourself, my old friend. Nothing slips past me. The barracks are in an uproar once rumor of your wife's state got out. I figured it'd be any day now that your child would be ready to meet their parents". He shrugged. "...nice loincloth, sire".
Grinning, his inhibitions defeated for now, Mosi batted playfully at his friend's chest. "That's fair. I presume they're assembling a salute of some sort for my child once we return?"
Isaac smirked, "I'd presume so. Wouldn't put it past my superiors, truly".
With a nod, Mosi slunk back onto the cushion he'd brought to that hallway. His assured smile slowly waned. "...Isaac. My mind will not cease to torment me". He crossed his legs as he sat, leaning his head forth onto his fingertips. "Do you recall that incident I mentioned, roughly in the summer of last year?"
Isaac thought on this. "Plenty of things happened last summer". He gazed away, a hand on his bristled chin, then he realized what his liege meant at last. "...oh. Oh! Good gods, the incident regarding your…! Is -that- what's got you so worked up, Mosi?"
The leonine man nodded, unfazed by his companion's lack of honorary titles. "Aye. I worry for my wife's health, but especially my child's-"
Mosi stopped as again isaac's hand clapped onto his shoulder, the stocky man dropping to a knee. "King Mosi", he said sternly. "If that's what's got your shoulders more tense than a nocked bowstring, then I'm afraid to inform you that I'd been serving a fool for so long".
Mosi growled lowly. "A fool? What do you mean?"
Isaac groaned. "Your head's in the clouds, and you are thinking too literally. It matters not if they wind up being like that. Your child is yours, and especially your wife's. Never forget that. No matter what, they are the child of the great Mosi Ash, warrior descended of the Ghost Lion tribe and king of the Brigalians. You've accomplished much in life, even before your coronation at the death of your mother from age. In the short time you've been king, you've accomplished much. And I know whatever comes from your wife's womb, they will be just as glorious as their father. And you, my liege, will be their father".
Mosi listened, nodding solemnly as his friend's words closed to an end. "I… agree", he said at last. "But riddle me this, if only to quell the last of my fears. What if he returns to finish what he started? What if-"
Abruptly, the heavy wooden door swung open. The sound of soft paws rung out from the corridor, approaching the men fast. A lion-woman like Mosi's wife, girded in modest white linens, made her way to the pair. Bowing before her king, she spoke gently, "…sire. It is done".
Mosi sprung up from the pillow beneath him. "My wife?"
"She is well", responded the healer. "Tired as all fresh mothers are".
Isaac breathed deep. "Then, his child is born?"
The healer nodded, glancing upward to the knight, then her king. "Yes. I do not wish to keep the princess from meeting her father any longer, though".
Mosi gasped softly, his lips drawing up like a bow. "A… daughter? A daughter", he said, his heart racing in joy. "Come, Isaac! We must see her and Aziza at once".
Isaac grinned, getting back up on his feet. "No need to tell me twice, sire". The three made haste to the healers' chambers, and for that moment Mosi's heart soared with peace. All was well once more. His child was born, his wife hanging in there.
Yet as he entered the room, and saw one of the healers carefully open his child's eyelids, his heart sank into woe once more.
"Mosi…?" his wife spoke gently to him, fatigued from the rigors of childbirth. "That look on your face… what is wrong…?"
What is wrong? What could be right, he wondered? Despite all the reassurance his lifelong friend could provide him, it still happened.
...no. He shook his head, closing his eyes tight. Isaac was right. Before him was his child. Before him was his wife. His new family was reborn from the ashes of the past, from the loss of his parents, and especially his own brother. He would forge ahead, bringing his new family with him.
Opening his eyes in the dim room, he lingered on for a moment or two before approaching his beloved spouse. "It is nothing, my lovely Aziza", he spoke at last. "Forgive me for my hesitance".
At Aziza's cot, he crouched to a knee, bowing before his beloved as if before an idol of his goddess. Closing his eyes once more, he gingerly reached for one of her hands and, drawing it forth carefully, placed a passionate kiss upon the back of it. "...how are you holding up, my dear?"
Aziza smiled her weak smile, green eyes glistening from the hallway's dimness. "I will be fine. Our daughter, she is-"
"She will be well, herself", he replied calmly.
Aziza chuckled a little. "I was about to say, she is a strong thing. Fairly large at birth, I'm told. She'll be a mighty queen someday, I know it".
Mosi opened his blue eyes, staring upward to his wife. "...I know it too". Carefully he stroked a fingertip across the swaddled cub's forehead, her little eyes closed tight as any cat's from birth. "She's such an adorable little thing. A wonderful gift of you, and of mighty Aralisi. Aye, from what you've said, I can just feel the inner fire of our goddess burning bright within her tiny soul". He chuckled. "Oh, goodness, what a gift she is..."
Aziza nodded. "Quite so… perhaps, that should be her name? I know we'd thought little of lioness names, expecting a son… but, she is truly a wonderful gift, and perhaps that name would befit her?"
Mosi smiled, glancing back to his companion warrior who, for the time, stood in peaceful silence. "Well? What of it, Sir Isaac?"
Isaac nodded. "I've no objections", he chuckled, removing the pipe from his teeth. Mosi nodded firmly. He meant it. That confounded pipe was out of his champion's mouth, and in all the years he knew Isaac, Mosi knew he meant what he said when that happened.
Turning back to his wife, he rose slowly, picking up his tender child from her mother's grasp. "Then, it is settled". As he stood up, he held the babe close, giving her a gentle lick on her brow in affection. "...my child. From this day forth, you are the gift of your mother and I. Welcome to this land… my little Atiya..."