Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to "Thundercats" and "The Hobbit", for those are the property of Ted Wolf, Rankin/Bass, and Warner Brothers Studios. Special thanks goes to the artist/fanfic writer Bloubell who created the cover image for me (and it is also available on her Deviantart webpage). I will be basing this on the 2011 "Thundercats" series and the Peter Jackson "The Hobbit" movies, although do not be surprised to see elements from "The Hobbit" book and the animated film and "Thundercats" comics and the 1980s series. This fiction is also available on AO3 and you can keep track of this fan-fiction's progress on my Tumblr account. With that said, I hope you all enjoy...

Chapter 1: Sins of the Father

"Drown it!" hissed Claudus in seething rage, his eyes narrowed and shaking in anger.

Jaga was actually stunned, his solemn and calm demeanor melting into horrified surprise. The elderly Thunderian Cleric had served the royal family for almost two centuries with unwavering loyalty and honesty. After all the experiences and wonders and knowledge he had ever witnessed over the years, Jaga thought that there was very little nowadays that could truly set him back.

How wrong he was.

The jaguar was grateful that his shock did not cause him to drop the wailing bundle he was cradling in his arms.

"Your Majesty, you cannot mean that!" Jaga finally managed to protest.

No, this was not how the Cleric would ever imagine how this happy occasion could spiral into the worst possible situation he could ever dare imagine in his wildest nightmares. King Claudus could never be capable of something such as this!

"I do mean it! Take the baby out of the boundaries of the kingdom and kill it! Go past any village where not even the lizards would dare to tread and leave no trace that this cub ever existed!" exclaimed the lion violently as he abruptly turned around, almost as if unwilling to rest his eyes on the newborn a second longer.

With a powerful growl of anger and grief, King Claudus managed to send the midwife and nurses scurrying as fast as they could out of the royal bedchambers. This left the King, Jaga, the newborn, and the young cub Tygra alone with the prone form of Queen Leona on the giant feather bed.

Jaga couldn't help but feel his breath stuck in his throat as he looked upon the body of the lioness with Tygra holding his mother's limp hand against his own paws. Tygra was massaging her palm as if trying to bring the queen back to life by sheer force of will.

Poor Tygra. Knowing his mother for only a short time only to lose her. And Queen Leona was not only beautiful, but soft-spoken, gentle, kind, and had a way to comfort and appease even the stormiest of tempers from her husband. Her death would be a great loss to all of the Thunderian cats in the city.

Unfortunately, Queen Leona's passing hit her husband the hardest.

King Claudus looked at the still body of his wife, his head slightly drooping towards the floor in grief. He was doing his best to not cry, to be strong for Tygra who needed to see that he still had his father left in this world, that he was not alone, and that they would carry on the best they could, as Leona would have wished.

Jaga tried again to reason with the King.

"Your majesty, do not do this! Think of your Leona's wishes! She risked everything to bring Lion-O into this world! She loved this babe because he was special to her! The Queen would not want you to turn away her newborn like this! Your wife had Lion-O because she wanted him to be born, to be a part of the family!"

"My wife is dead! Do not dare tell me what she would have wanted! Leave, and allow both Tygra and myself to grieve!"

"Leona would not want you to turn away your future heir, your son who can continue your heritage, your bloodline and legacy!"

But that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Claudus let out a guttural roar of rage and agony from his wounded heart. It echoed so powerfully in the room that Tygra cowered and whimpered against the head of the Queen's bed, and Jaga would not have been surprised if everyone within the palace could hear the cry of anger. Claudus whirled on his Head Cleric, his cape swirling violently against his broad shoulders and armor, and Jaga could see the spittle gleaming against his teeth, the King's eyes like burning coals and wide with temporary madness.

"That is enough!" bellowed King Claudus, "How dare you blaspheme?! It is Tygra that shall be my future heir, the only Crown Prince and a son I would gladly name as my flesh and blood! This…this babe robbed me of my life, my dear Leona, one of the few beings on this Earth who could ever complete me in body and soul! This child is an accident! I cannot bear seeing it a moment longer! Go! And do away with it!"

"Your majesty, stop! Please!"

But Claudus had enough.

"Jaga…" growled Claudus, his voice now low, dangerous, and penetrating, as if he was about to strike, and with that warning tone, the elderly jaguar knew that he had to cease and desist. He was wise enough to know when the King had been pushed past his boiling point.

It was done; no words could help appease this situation. Not even the Ancient Spirits of Light could change the resolute decision of the King in his grief and blame.

When the King spoke again, it was with cold ice pricks, dangerous and deadly.

"You are my trusted advisor who has assisted and guarded the royal family for decades, even before my time and my father's time, loyally and faithfully. You never held back your honesty and always spoke for the best of the Thunderian kingdom, even if the truth was painful to acknowledge. I would be proud to call you my friend. It is this, and only this reason, why I do not strike you down where you stand, for if you were any lesser Thunderian, you would be thrashed beyond belief."

King Claudus took another ragged breath, quivering, before he spoke again, sending dread and pain into new depths of Jaga's soul.

"Kill the babe and hide any evidence of it. Erase any and all trace of its existence. Do not give it to another family in this world to raise as their own. I need it gone, done away with, so it can never trouble me with its presence. It is a suitable punishment for how it took dear Leona away from my life and Tygra's life, for how it unfairly lives while my dear wife does not. Do it. Please. That is an order."

Jaga went pale.

There was one second of a tense, sorrowful silence. The two seconds.

With a slight bow and within a blink of an eye, Jaga disappeared, running as swiftly as the wind and invisible, invoking a small burst of air and dust in his magical wake.

Shoulders drooping in fatigue and not sure if he had much strength to remain standing any longer, the King of Thundera half-shuffled to the bed as if drunk before sitting heavily on the feather mattress next to his deceased Leona. Dazed, befuddled, drained, and fatigued, the lion humanoid drew the tiger cub in his powerful arms and squeezed him close against his body, with the young prince feeling the sobs of pain quaking against his father's chest.

"I'm sorry, Tygra," choked Claudus, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Your mother cannot be with us any longer."

Tygra, with his tear-stained face, just watched the very spot the Head Cleric disappeared with his brother. He did not say anything, but he buried his face into the comforting musk of Claudus' beard.

Mumm-Ra chuckled as he watched this from his shallow scrying pool, the murky waters glowing with the image of King Claudus and Tygra mourning over the Queen's death. Satisfied that the King's newborn would die before morning, he ended the spiritual divination, and the sallow-faced mummy hobbled away to the shadows, planning the next step in his goals with the statues of the Ancient Spirits of Evil looking down in stony appeasement.

It had been far too easy…

He couldn't do it.

Ancients Spirits of Light help him, but he couldn't follow King Claudus' order.

Jaga couldn't help but let his eyes, baggy with wrinkles, shed a small tear as Lion-O let out a small sigh, snuggling against the silk enveloping him for warmth. The desert air at night was precariously freezing, but thankfully, they were at the edge of the Sand Sea, and there was no living being Jaga could sense within miles of his position on the cliff.

It would be so easy now. The baby could not swim in the churning sand, and within seconds, Lion-O would be swallowed within the crushing medium of liquid rock and pebbles and suffocate a relatively quick death with no one the wiser. The King of Thundera would be satisfied in his revenge against the one who caused Leona's death, and everyone would be allowed to continue their lives as if the child never existed.

And yet…

Jaga cradled Lion-O dearly against his slender, aged frame as his beard fluttered and tangled itself against the baby in his arms, shivering internally as he wearily sat down into a lotus position upon the rocky outcrop.

Jaga needed to calm down, forcing himself to relax. He needed to think.

Jaga could not possible leave the newborn with another family. Not only would it be a risk that Lion-O would possibly be abused or have a difficult life growing up in poverty or squalor, but everyone on Third Earth would recognize a baby lion.

King Claudus was both an admired and infamous ruler who not only oversaw one of the richest and plentiful kingdoms on the planet, but he also had many emissaries and connections to the neighboring provinces of the Dogs, Birds, and other races. It was universal knowledge that the only lions were part of the Thunderian royal family, being descendants of Leo back in the Dark Ages with Mumm-Ra. The baby's telltale red-hair, fur, and breed would be incriminating.

No matter how distant and isolated Jaga could go to hide the babe, it would be impossible for Lion-O to go out into the open. No disguise could last forever.

Sooner or later, when Lion-O grows up, his identity would eventually be surmised and discovered. Tongues would wag, rumors would spread far and wide, and Lion-O's life would be in grave jeopardy, either by Claudus' himself once he would discover his son was still alive or by one of the many enemies of Thundera such as the Lizards or the Rats, hoping to use Lion-O as a weapon or an easy kill.

Do not give it to another family in this world to raise as their own.

Jaga smiled grimly. Let it never be said he didn't follow that command to the exact letter.

With a few whispered words, Jaga invoked a magical sphere of translucent light to surround himself and Lion-O, their bodies engulfed with soft, warm tones of yellow, peach, and white. With another flash, both Jaga and Lion-O entered the astral plane, a conduit and medium that traversed through all life on Third Earth and beyond, probing and meditating intently.

Although time had no definition in the astral plane, Jaga felt as if he remained searching for hours and hours, his staff in one hand and the Thunderian child cradled in the nook of his other arm.

And like branches of a tree, the astral plane had strands and paths that were interconnected to many worlds, many realities, many planet and realms of light and darkness in a harmonious and balanced beauty. Everywhere and everything, it had a connection to this ethereal conduit.

Jaga observed any and all he could stumble upon.

A planet called Alderaan with various races and a Council of warriors amid robots, technology, and battleships?

No, it sounded far too violent for Jaga's taste. He would not want Lion-O to grow up knowing only about war.

A hidden, magical school called Hogwarts residing in a beautiful countryside and sea?

No, Lion-O would stand out even more. There was simply no way he would not be ostracized among a planet of humans.

A land of multicolored, talking ponies ruled by two benevolent alicorns that raised the sun and the moon?

Jaga supposed that he could resort to that one as a back-up plan…

Eyes closed, Jaga sensed for someone to answer his prayers, to grant his request. He would not give up. There had to be a world somewhere that Lion-O could flourish in…

"Pardon me, but do you know that you are carrying a wee babe in your arms?"

Jaga couldn't help but open an eye at the absurdity of someone pointing out something that blatantly obvious while being polite.

And to his slight confusion, the being addressing him, though benevolent and without a hint of malice, had no clear and discernible form. The halos of sunlight and starlight radiating all around the stranger was a bit too blinding, but from what Jaga could tell, the figure was upright with two limbs and two legs like any Thunderian and carrying a tall, wooden staff of twisted wood.

Jaga was wary but intrigued as he answered in an even tone, "Yes, I do. He is the reason why I am here."

"A good reason or a bad reason or a reason that is neither good nor bad but neutral?"

Wonderful. The only being on the astral plane that was willing to greet him seemed to be daft and favoring riddles. Still, Jaga knew that appearances were deceiving, and though roundabout, the guest contained no aura of darkness, so the Thunderian Cleric decided to play along with some direct honesty.

"Both a good and a bad reason, stranger," Jaga replied, "The father of this child has ordered me to drown him in his grief for losing his wife in childbirth and has entrusted me to carry out the act."

The stranger was silent at this, perturbed. After several minutes of contemplation, the figure then asked Jaga a rather surprising change in the subject.

"Is this child special?"

"Every child is special. A child is a blessing, no matter how others feel about them."

"A good answer."

Jaga smiled at this compliment before he continued.

"This newborn must live; he deserves better than to be cast aside and abandoned. His mother would never have wanted such a fate, and I cannot bring myself to kill this young one."

"Only the truly vile can bring it in themselves to harm a child."

"And despite it being an order from my King, I will not carry it out. The child cannot remain in my world without the father or the kingdom's enemies discovering about his existence. This is why I am here. I need a safe place for the baby to be raised, in a home of love and care, and where no Thunderian has ever resided before."

There was a pause before Jaga then asked his request.

"Will you help me? Do you know of such a place?"

There was no reply for several minutes, the silence growing thick with expectation and tension as the two mystics remained in the astral plane. Thankfully, Jaga was incredibly patient, so he remained politely attentive and kept his expression non-judgmental and friendly. Such a favor was not simple to ask of anyone, and no matter what, Jaga would respect the stranger's decision.

"Yes, I will help you. I can take the child. I will see to it that the young prince is raised in a home of warmth and comfort."

"Will he be safe?"

"No. But he will not be alone."

"A good answer," Jaga parroted, smiling. And it was honest as well. Perhaps this figure was not as daft and nonsensical as he first appeared to be. Letting out a pent-up breath of relief that he did not realize that he had been holding, Jaga carefully handed the bundled up lion babe to the guest after giving Lion-O a farewell kiss on the forehead. The shining presence carefully cradled the baby prince in its arms as if he were precious metals and jewels, cooing the newborn softly. The tiny Thunderian stirred, yet somehow, it managed to sigh happily before continuing to slumber.

The stranger then asked the Head Cleric, "Jaga, does this baby have a name?"

Jaga did not miss the fact that he never told the stranger his own name, but for some reason, he did not feel threatened and replied, "Yes. His mother's last wish before she passed away. His name is Lion-O."

"Lion-O," mused the stranger, "My, what a strange name. Yet then again, there are worse ones, and as far as names go, it is odd, but it is neither good nor bad, and that it all that matters really."

"And what is yours?"

"I beg your pardon?" the figure asked as he was about to leave with the Thunderian baby in his arms.

"What is your name? I wish to know the name of the kind and generous being who is willing to help a stranger in his time of need and who is good enough to help save a child's life. What is your name?"

The figure smiled as he said cryptically, "I have many names, all of which are strange yet apt. You may call me... Olórin."

And with a flash of sunlight, he disappeared from the astral plane with Lion-O, leaving Jaga with a heavy heart and his eyes weary with tears and sorrow.

"Oh bother it all!" grumbled Bilbo as he heard the loud knocking at the door. Just when he was about to enjoy his breakfast, confound it! Still, it would not do for any respectable Hobbit to leave someone waiting indefinitely at the door, even if it was for fresh biscuits with scrambled eggs and sausages, fresh out of the pan a minute ago. Despite the need for pleasantries, Bilbo could not help but grumble and mutter under his breath as he tightened the sash around his bathrobe and irately stomped towards the door.

The knocking got even more persistent, the rapping noises being more forceful.

"Coming! Please, be patient! Honestly, this could not wait until after breakfast?!"

Yavanna help him if this guest turned out to be another practical joke from the local Took children. He was quite sure that they were behind the poison ivy prank left on his gardening tools last week, and Bilbo was quite eager to take a lad or two by the ears and march him posthaste to his house.

Upon reaching his front door, Bilbo hurriedly opened it and managed to demand in a civil tone, "Yes, may I help you?"

Only silence and the cool morning air greeted the Hobbit gentleman in the open passageway. There was no one standing on his porch. Huffing angrily, Bilbo was just about the slam the door shut when…

Bilbo Baggins blinked. Was that a baby wailing?

"Goodness gracious!" Bilbo exclaimed upon seeing the wrapped bundle lying on his stone steps before he immediately bent down and gathered the newborn in his arms. He looked a bit past to the pathway of his garden and to the front gate, but not a soul could be spotted.

Oh dear. Someone had abandoned a baby.

And left it with him.

Bilbo said the first thing he could in such an emergency.

"Milk! Warm milk!" he cried to himself, in a tizzy, quickly slamming the door with his foot.

Never mind that it was the middle of summer; the mornings were still a bit chilly, and the child could catch a cold. For heaven's sake, how some Hobbits could be completely dimwitted and inconsiderate to not even think of such a thing for a poor babe was completely beyond Bilbo.

And abandoning one in such a dreadful manner on top of it all!

Once inside, with the bundle warming nicely on his armchair next to the burning fireplace and a saucepan of fresh milk set on the coals, Bilbo then noticed the card that was pinned to the fabric of the blanket. Curious, he plucked the paper and read aloud the only sentence written in ink.

"'My name is Lion-O'. My word! Such a strange name for a Hobbit…baby…"

Bilbo's voice then trailed off and died as he realized that he finally got a good view of the child left at his door, peering at him from the folds of silk. A furry face of beige, creamy brown, and little canines jutting out of a whiskered, cat-like mouth. A small puff of vibrantly red hair, as bright as the reddest rose. Grubby hands with fingers that had tiny pinpricks that represented claws. Though what was the most discerning were the baby's blue eyes, azure and startling bright like deep pools of the clearest oceans and sky.

The baby wailed again, clearly hungry and wondering why his mother has not fed him yet.

Bilbo then voiced the only thing that could come to his frazzled mind.

"Oh dear..."