Author's Note: Yes, I've kept those who are still reading and reviewing this story waiting. I wish I could say that I'm sorry, but this story seems to get harder with each new chapter, and real life enjoys stepping in, disrupting the creativity process. So, I just want to say to those who have favored this story, thank you very much, and don't be afraid to leave a review, no matter what chapter it's for. It's okay to leave a review. It helps.

Now, on with the show!

Chapter 13

Confession is good for the soul, or at least, that's what he was supposed to think. Then again, Dhoruba wasn't sure what to think anymore. He had told his family and the guardians of his past, of the sins he committed in the form of regicide and genocide. Their reactions, their words still stunned and surprised him. He kept telling himself he didn't deserve it, their words of empathy and grace and forgiveness. All these things were still foreign to him, but it was how they were. It was how they were raised. It formed them, defined them.

He just wasn't like them!

His ears fell forward as he licked his maw while his heart beat softly in his chest, a sniff following soon after. It had been three days now since he told those closest to him. He was glad he did because the nightmares had become too much and his realization of what he had done – thanks to the nightmares and the dark voice – it was now or never and he chose now. It had been difficult, painful but they stood by him. His guardians swore their continued allegiance, his son and daughter spoke of their extended love and grace.

Then there was Kesha. Her reaction surprised him the most. She was his mate, his partner. She didn't have to say that she would stay with him and love him forever, but she did! Kesha had done something he was sure no other lioness would dare do, and he loved her for it even if he didn't understand it entirely.

Tears edged in his eyes and he closed them, sighing quietly. Amri, he prayed, I don't know if you taught her to do such a thing, but if you did… Thank you! He shifted his paws a little and his own weight, but he did not move fully. He was afraid to. The last three days had nearly done him in. If anything, it was all too much to bear, more so than telling his family and Bukua and his. Then there was young Akanni. Akanni, the only survivor from their homeland… He had all the right in the world and the heavens themselves to be furious and filled with righteous rage and the want to exact some sort of revenge. If it hadn't been for Johari and everyone else there Akanni would have surely challenged him in a fight to the death. The pain and anger that made themselves so clear in the young lion's red eyes was staggering and frightening Dhoruba had been ashamed to look at him. But he would have to.

For three days the King and the red maned male avoided each other as if one or both of them were sick. They'd been born and raised in the same pride, saw each other multiple times but never interacted. Now they were complete strangers thanks to the passage of time and Dhoruba's great sin. A thought passed the dark brown King, which caused his head to jerk. He was old enough to be Akanni's father!

Dhoruba bowed his head, eyes still closed. Pain gripped his heart as his emotions rose. "He'll hate me for the rest of his life," the lion said quietly. "I even hate myself." Anger for his actions, for what he had done to Akanni boiled over, and the tears flowed from his eyes like a hard rain, racking his body with sobs that nearly chocked the life out of him.

He wasn't sure how long he wept, wasn't sure if he could stop, but when it was over and he had no tears left it hurt to open his eyes and keep them opened. His whole body hurt, his forelegs trembled and his hind legs were numb. While art of him wanted to go back to the royal chamber and sleep next to his mate he simply had no strength to move.

Part of him hoped Hubiri would show up with the morning report on the animal representatives and whatever problems they had. Helping them was so much easier than dealing with the problems he had, however selfish that seemed. Dhoruba hadn't seen his advisor in days but he was grateful to have the time off. It was nice, just what he needed to sort through his nightmares and understand them. Now that he had he wasn't sure how to proceed. He saw himself differently, knew that his guards did too. They saw him as flawed, imperfect, someone who made tragic mistake and was willing, trying, every day to do right. Mpenzi and Jibade saw the same, as did their friends.

What do I do now, Rahimu?

As soon as the question was asked in his spirit, the answer came immediately.

See Ibada.

His eyes opened suddenly and he no longer felt the sting of the tears he had shed. In that moment he realized something. He told Kesha that he would speak with Ibada as soon as he could, but he didn't do it the day after he confessed to her and the others. Instead, he took that day off and Kesha felt no need to remind him about seeing the shaman. They just spend the day together, him and Kesha. He told her as much as he could about his parents, his childhood and any friends he once had. She listened with genuine interest and never faltered when he mentioned some sort of pain he endured at his father's words or paws. Her ability to accept these things unnerved him, but they were also things he loved her for.

The second day he spent with the whole family – him, Kesha, Jibade and Mpenzi. He all hadn't had a day devoted to their family in years, not since Jibade and Mpenzi were cubs.

The words in his spirit rang throughout his body once more.

See Ibada.

He shivered at the thought of it. Seeing Ibada would prove harder than facing his family and two closest friends. Ibada was different. He was a spiritual advisor with the ear of Heaven, and it wasn't the King's soul that needed help.

I have You, Rahimu, Dhoruba thought. I'm secure.

While his mind tried to convince him that there was no need to see the shaman, something told him he needed to. He knew Ibada wouldn't judge him or condemn him. The others hadn't, and he was thankful. Plus, Ibada had been worried about him, even tried to give him medicinal herbs to help him sleep, and asked of him during those times Kesha took over the duties with the animals. Ibada had been a friend, a counselor, and he, as much as the guardian family and his own, deserved an explanation.

"Okay," he said quietly, "I'll see Ibada."

Dhoruba shifted his paws and weight again, admiring the beauty of the lands that had been his home for several years. Times like these, when it was just him, he felt his age, all seven to eight seasons of them. He was glad no one said he was getting grey in his mane or that he was slowing down. He was a lion who kept himself in shape, something he couldn't afford to stop doing. Now and then he would give Bukua and his mate a day off so he could patrol the borders himself, which made him feel a few years younger. It invigorated him, made him feel like he was more than just a ruler who dealt with the animals problems while leaving the rest of it to those in his service. He loved doing both, but trading one for the other sometimes helped him physically and mentally.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, silently praying for strength, and when he opened his eyes again he saw Kesha sitting on his right, just out of the corner of his eye. She had such a way of sneaking up, or beside someone, in this case.

Neither of them spoke. They barely exchanged words in peaceful moments like this, but for them words weren't needed. Dhoruba and Kesha sat on the ledge in silence, looking out into their lands, watching the animals they could see from their viewpoint graze or drink from the waterholes. Their whiskers twitched, their tails tapped, but no words were uttered.

Then Dhoruba looked at his mate, who, feeling his eyes on her, turned to face him.

"It's time I see Ibada," he said.

"Would you like me to go with you?"

For a moment he stared at Kesha then looked away, trying to keep his body from shaking. But it did anyway and guilt filled his mind. How many times did he tell himself that he didn't want to burden her by asking, or what often sounded like pleading, for her to join him on things like this? He had to do something for himself, on his own. Her reaction three days before and their conversation came back. Never in his life had he heard words of love and devotion. After what he did he was certain Rahimu had abandoned him.

Was Kesha an answer to a prayer he'd uttered years before in his wanderings?

Remembering her question, he tried to speak. "I…" He paused, tongue-tied.

"It's okay," Dhoruba heard her say softly. "I don't mind."

But he did and couldn't put it into words. He had been with her for years and every day she managed to surprise him. He was afraid if he asked why then she would give the same reply as she'd done many times before. She loved him and he didn't understand why, no matter how many times she'd said so. He was grateful for it, but he still didn't understand. Part of him wanted to see Ibada alone, while the other wanted her with him. It always went better with Kesha around. Her presence made him feel at ease, comfortable, but could she bear hearing his story again? Could he put her through that once more? Could he do it without her?

He closed his eyes. I need her!

From the moment they met she had been with him, even when she wasn't with him, by his side, she was in his thoughts, her words of continuous love and encouragement ringing through his ears. She was his confidence, his conscience, one of the few he could rely on and lean on. He would never admit it out loud but he needed her desperately. She was his everything, his other half.

Dhoruba breathed in and out slowly. "Kesha… would you?"

She laid her head against his mane, purring gently. "Yes," she replied.

He gave an inaudible sigh and nuzzled her lovingly.

In companionable silence, the King and Queen descended the stone ledge, down the few stone like steps and into the grass. Not wanting to keep Ibada waiting – if he was expecting them at all – and in order to keep his mind off of Kesha's words three days earlier Dhoruba challenged her to a race.

She gladly accepted.

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Prince Jibade knew it was a risk, but it was one that he was willing to take. He glanced at the lion who had been his best friend since they were cubs and shook his head. Something happened to Hadhari since he and his father found Akanni passed out on the borders. That day, or the decision to take him to the caves, a decision made by Hadhari's father changed the young male. What was it about Akanni that brought out this bitter, angry side of him? They continued walking, stopping every few moments to 'patrol' what was the King's and what wasn't. Earlier, animals came up to Jibade and informed him of things, which made the Prince feel at peace, knowing that they cared for their homeland as much as he did.

Jibade could only admit it to himself but while his father's confession three days earlier had shaken him deeply, it was more than enough to make sure he kept his parents' teachings close to his heart. The confession was also what he needed because he and his family understood the reasons for his father's nightmares. As far as he knew, they seemed to be lessening. He desperately hoped for that. He wanted his father to find some peace.

While realizing his father committed murder he wasn't sure what shocked him more: that or Hadhari's cruelty for Akanni's reaction, which was more than understandable. Upon hearing that Jibade had had enough of his friend's mistreatment of the redmaned lion. He'd asked Hadhari to patrol with him today with the intention of confronting him once and for all. He waited for three days to put his words into practice and didn't want Nasila or Johari around when he actually spoke them. He would not upset them because he knew it was paining Nasila to see her brother act this way, and Johari was using her own energy to help Akanni. The two lionesses had enough to worry about.

He understood why his sister wanted no part of this and it made him laugh softly. Mpenzi was hardheaded, in her own way. She was quiet and tough, and once she got something on her mind, whatever it was she would see it through and put down anyone in her way. If it was her and him they would have started talking after they got a few feet from the caves and everyone's ears. Jibade loved his sister but he wanted this done his way.

"You okay, Jibade?"

The Prince jerked his head and turned to look at his friend, mildly surprised to see genuine concern on his face. Ease your way into it, he thought. "Yeah, thanks."

"How are things with your father?"

"He's fine."

"His nightmares have stopped?" Hadhari asked.

"Yes, as far as I know."

Hadhari paused, weighing his words, then, "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

Jibade turned his head. "What?"

"Knowing he's a murderer," the guardian continued. "You can't stand there and tell me you're just all right with everything." He moved to stand in front of Jibade.

The Prince looked at his friend with narrowed eyes. "You heard what I said, and I meant every word."

"Come on, Jibade." Hadhari threw his head to the side and laughed. "I know you. You're smart, you can't possibly –"

"I can!" the Prince snapped, but before Hadhari could get a word in he quickly continued. "He's my father. No matter what he's done in the past, because it was in the past! He was a different lion. Weren't you listening? He was raised to be a monster and broke free from becoming one the only way he knew how. Do I condone it? No, I don't, but I will not – no, I refuse – to judge him and constantly remind of him of it. The nightmares do that so he doesn't need me or anyone else to do the same. And that includes you. His father was cruel, heartless, he isn't. He's more than made up for what he did."

The guardian just stared, refusing to believe what he was hearing. "You can't mean that. Your father murdered, he killed. I thought you held him in high regard."

"I still do, but no one is perfect. Everyone has flaws."

"Your grandfather, the Queen's father, didn't."

Jibade pawed the grass in front of him idly. "We don't know that. For all we know King Amri was a private lion."

"I wonder what he would have thought of the King's confession to slaughter."

"We can't ask ourselves a question like that. King Amri is gone and it's not even appropriate to bring him – my grandfather – into this!"

Hadhari shut his eyes in frustration. "Do you even hear yourself, Jibade?"

"Do you hear yourself? Why can't you just understand that my father isn't perfect? He was in a bad situation and couldn't take it anymore so he did the only thing he could think of. Yes, it was wrong, but sometimes one can only take so much abuse. He had enough. Wouldn't you?" Jibade paused and closed his eyes, forming his next words carefully while telling himself not to smack Hadhari in the face, claws in. "My father did a terrible thing, that's true, but he didn't make a habit of it." When the Prince opened his eyes again he prayed his friend would really hear him. "No matter the sin of his past, he is still my father and my King. I will stand by him as his son and Heir."

"What about Mpenzi?"

"Ask her."

"So that's it, then?" Hadhari asked in surprise. "You just accept your father's crime."

"For the last time I do not condone it. There's a difference between the two. Who am I to condemn my own father for something that happened before we were born?"

Hadhari had no answer. It was the same question the Prince had asked his father, a question he hoped the others would think of, which they did – his parents, Nasila, and later he learned, Johari. It was a question he still had trouble with, one he couldn't answer, but somewhere deep down he knew Jibade had more to say.

"One more thing," the royal lion continued, "why are you so determined to ruin Johari's relationship with Akanni?"

The guardian's ears perked up and his mouth opened a little. "She shouldn't be spending time with him."

"Why? So, he's older than her. It is not his fault."

Hadhari scoffed. "He's old enough to be her father."

"No one else has a problem. If Johari were your daughter I could understand your concern, but she's not. She's your younger sister, and who she spends time with is her business."

"Then, would you say the same if it were Mpenzi?" Hadhari asked with a narrowed, challenging look in his eyes.

The Prince met it. "You've asked me this before. You know the answer so I'm not going to tell you again." He closed his eyes, continuing. "Look, just leave Johari and Akanni alone. If your sister is happy, that's all that should matter." Without waiting for a response he started walking and spoke over his shoulder. "One other thing, Hadhari, if you love your little sister at all you'll stop telling her to quit being around Akanni. Johari may be quiet at times, but I'm sure she can show her temper if pressed." He paused. "You will lose her love if you continue this behavior."

Hadhari allowed the Prince to continue walking alone. He shifted his weight from one foreleg to the other, running Jibade's words in his mind. He shook his head quickly, a soft growl sounding from his throat.

No, he thought. Jibade, you speak with your heart, not your mind.

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Ibada was certain he would see the King soon. It had been three days now since he felt something stirring in his spirit. He prayed about it and felt the assurance of Rahimu that, very soon, Dhoruba would come to him, having realized the meaning of his nightmares and would seek his counsel. Ibada had been sitting in front his tree in the grass, eating his morning fruit when he saw the King and Queen approach. Even from a good distance he could tell it was them because of their walk.

Queen Kesha's was full of grace and dignity, while her mate's was slow, reluctant, worried and hesitant. He appeared to have a large weight on his shoulders, almost to the point where he could crawl on his belly if he wanted to. The last bite Ibada took of the fruit revealed the core and the seed inside. He set it down and got to his feet, bowing. One look into King Dhoruba's pained eyes and he knew what this was about. It was time. He would give his ruler and friend, the counseling he desperately needed.

He spoke formally, not wanting to let them know that he had been anticipating this. "Good morning, your majesties. What can I do for you?"

Dhoruba looked at Kesha, who gave him a warm, reassuring smile. He faced the shaman. "I… I've discovered the meaning of the nightmares, Ibada." The lion paused and sighed. "You might want to sit back down for this."

Without speaking, Ibada did just that and wasn't too surprised when the leaders lay down beside each other. "Take your time, Dhoruba," the monkey said, putting his arms on knees. "I'm listening. Don't leave anything out."

Dhoruba sighed again, deeply, felt his heart pound, his stomach roll, and told himself that he had to do this. His family and friends heard, now it was time for the spiritual leader of the Western Plains to hear as well. After a few quiet moments, he started talking.

And Ibada, true to the word of a shaman, listened. His heart beat to the words the King spoke. Images of the events surrounding Dhoruba's life, from cubhood, to young adult hood flashed through his mind. While he didn't flinch outwardly, he felt himself do so on the inside. He had encountered young animals that had been abused by their parents, but this… what he was hearing bordered on sheer dominance and the pleasure of it! While Ibada himself believed in discipline for discipline's sake, he never condoned abuse for pleasurable purposes. It was unfathomable, disgusting, and against Rahimu. Ibada's heart fell into his stomach and his emotions rose while Dhoruba spoke of his father's cruelty towards him and his strong disbelief in Rahimu. It was that that filled the shaman's spirit with rage. He never heard of anyone blaspheme the name of the Lord in his life. Not even his father would go to such lengths! Ibada felt his eyes burn and forced himself to calm down.

"… Then, one day, a storm was about to come and I couldn't take it anymore." Dhoruba side glanced at Kesha, blinked his eyes once and continued. "Something in me snapped and I attacked my father, killing him. I knew what I was doing, but after it was over…" He shut his eyes and felt himself shake with sharp tremors that made him feel as though claws were piercing through his fur, drawing his blood. The grass under his body made him itch. It pained him so that he got to his feet and, like before, started pacing, speaking as he did. "After it was over, I wanted more. I wanted those who didn't help me when I needed it to pay. I-I wanted them to feel what I always felt, even as an adult."

The King's eyes darted in all directions and he ceased his pacing, his eyes glazing over, as if remembering the rampage. His ears flickered and he nearly jerked away when he felt his mate's head on his shoulder. He forced himself to relax under her touch. She was only trying to comfort him but he wished she wouldn't. He wanted her to hate him!

Ibada's head jerked. The images of Dhoruba murdering his father were so clear it would take him the rest of his life to remove them. He clasped his hands together to keep them and his entire body from shaking. What his ruler went through when he was younger! Rahimu… You were there. You could have interfered and saved him! As soon as the thought was finished Ibada quickly chastised himself. He stared at the royal couple, but his eyes were only on Dhoruba.

"Please, sire, go on," he said gently. But could he really hear anymore? He heard the good and the bad of others nearly every day, but this was different. This was personal. This was his King, the lion he anointed as the Western Plains' leader a few years ago. The lion whose son was to be the next ruler! Aside from Queen Kesha, Dhoruba was also King Amri's successor.

"The taste of my father's blood filled my senses so I let it control me, lead me." Dhoruba swallowed a large lump in his throat and moved his paws along the grass. "The next one I killed was my mother. I found her while she was away from the hunting party." A low growl formed. He didn't stifle it. "I spilled her blood because she didn't help me but one time when I was younger. I'm sure Father threatened her if she ever interfered for me again, so she didn't." His eyes flashed. "I wanted her to feel as helpless as I did. I reveled in the pleasure of feeling her life removed from her as my innocence had been from me. When she was dead, the blood lust grew stronger and I went after the hunting party, one by one, and then finally the rest of the pride, cubs included." A sharp shiver rolled up and down his back. He remembered the taste of the blood, the power, the strength and the harsh realities that caught up with him in the several days or weeks after the massacre. He felt a mix of great pleasure and pain at what he had done. He wasn't sure which feeling was worse.

Ibada knew that if he weren't a shaman he would have already fled from the King's presence. Faintly, he glanced up at the Queen, hopeful to get the same look that was on his painted face from her. Instead, all he saw was Queen Kesha turn her head a little toward her mate, watch as he moved back to her side, and put a her left paw on his right. Ibada stared as the lion looked at her with grief stricken eyes and what appeared to be a stare of some sort of thankfulness for her measure of comfort. The ordeal surprised Ibada, more so than the images of Dhoruba slaughtering the members of the pride he was born in. What kind of monarch was he serving?

Weakly, he held out his hand, a gesture that told Dhoruba to continue even though Ibada, in his mind, was screaming, Stop! I don't want to hear anymore!

Dhoruba lay down beside his mate, moving close so that their sides were touching. He bowed his head a little, his ears and stormy grey colored eyes flickering while his whiskers twitched. "Not long after that, a day, maybe two, I was in the process of killing another lioness while her young son watched."

He paused, felt himself shake, was certain that Kesha would either flinch or gasp in horror or get up in leave as he thought she would when she heard all of this just three days earlier. A glance at her from the corner of his right eye told her she wouldn't do any of these things. She remained rooted and it angered him. He wanted to snap because her love both pleased and enraged him.

He unsheathed his claws, watched them grip the small blades of green grass and forced himself to press onward. "Before I could let the lioness and her cub know that her son was next another lioness snatched him up and ran. Upon seeing that I vowed, out loud, that I would find and put an end to them. Then, I killed the lioness. It was still storming, too, not that I cared. I was so filled with anger and bloodlust I wasn't sure when I was going to stop or even if I could." Dhoruba swallowed. "I never found the lioness and the cub, though I did kill some of the animals who lived in the lands for the sake of just doing it." He shut his eyes tightly, resisting the urge to throw up. "When I had enough, I left the realm and became a rogue."

Swiftly, the lion opened his eyes again and stared directly at Ibada. "I could barely look at myself in my reflections in the waterholes and my sleep was often haunted." He gave a dry laugh, saying, "I was certain Rahimu had abandoned me. I probably prayed to him many times without realizing it and went for days without eating or drinking, and a few times even went without sleep." He shrugged. "I still have no idea what led me here or why Rahimu would give me, a murderer, a second chance at life, but He did, and He used King Amri to do it."

At the mention of the past ruler, Ibada's head snapped up. "D-did he know?" he asked curtly.

Dhoruba shook his head. "No. After I left and found myself unable to sleep because of the dreams I forced myself to forget. It wasn't until the nightmares came that, somewhere in the back of mind, I was slowly starting to remember, though I didn't remember fully until a few days ago." He turned his head to the left, looking down. His mouth was dry. "And all thanks to a certain guest of ours," he muttered, then just as quickly added, "Though it wasn't really his fault…" But it was a moment he would never forget, seeing Akanni standing several feet away from him. The young lion's eyes had narrowed to dangerous slits, the look on his face was full of such shock, surprise, and rage, Dhoruba was still surprised that Akanni didn't kill him before confronting him.

Ibada, just as the King thought he would, raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but, who do you mean?" For a moment he looked to the Queen, who only turned her eyes down to her paws. But she knew, Ibada thought. The exchanging looks between them had grown more frequent.

"Akanni," Dhoruba said softly, but just loud enough for Ibada and Kesha to hear. "He's the last survivor of my old pride. The lioness that snatched him – her name was Shabihi – died before he came here." Thankfully Akanni was grown up when that happened, he thought.

The shaman rubbed the back of his neck with a hand; trying as hard as he could to process everything he'd been told. His heart beat loudly, his pulse pounded in his ears equally as loud and so hard he could hear it. The only thing he did now was nod weakly. It was the only thing he could do at the moment. Words failed him. Rahimu, what's happening here?

"He's angry," Dhoruba continued. "He has every right to be and I don't blame him for his ill feelings. Ibada, I came here because I wanted you to understand my nightmares now that I myself understand them." He sighed, shaking his head aggressively. "I sinned, gravely, so don't remind me. I'm unfit to rule the Western Plains, but –"

"But Rahimu, bless His name, as you said, gave you a second chance. Who am I to judge you?" Ibada shook his head, clasped his hands together. "The way you were raised, your parents… I truly am amazed with how you withstood it for so long. But, that day, you were at your breaking point. If you hadn't…" He flinched, mentally chastised himself, and buried his face in his hands, not speaking for a long moment.

The air around him turned cold and he prayed for warmth. When he looked up at the King, his King, again, he hoped the look on his face was enough to comfort the distressed lion. "Dhoruba," the monkey said, speaking his ruler's name with care, "I will never condone murder of any kind. To fight in defense of yourself or someone else is one thing, but what you did… You knew what you were doing, that much is clear. I've heard stories from the lionesses, cheetahs and leopards saying how hard it is to control the bloodlust in their bodies when they hunt. Sounds the same with you, but you let the bloodlust as you said, take control. Only when it was satisfied did you realize what you had done and left your homeland."

Ibada's voice then turned grave. "You just wanted the pain you endured at the paws of your father and the negligence of your mother to stop. You could only take so much." It wasn't a question, but a statement, a fact. "I won't judge you, nor will I condemn you, but I thank Rahimu that you didn't let the bloodlust take you to other kingdoms. I'm glad that you allowed King Amri teach you our way of life." For the first time since Dhoruba and Kesha arrived, the shaman allowed himself to smile. "You've certainly turned out the better for it."

He asked if Dhoruba had had any nightmares recently. The lion shook his head. No. He asked about the pride, the royal family and the guardians. Dhoruba said that only his children and the guardians knew the whole thing, and explained how Akanni found out, which led to the redmaned male angrily attacking him, which led to his son and the others, Kesha included, finding them, and that moment led to Dhoruba telling them about a past he thought he had forgotten.

"Akanni could barely stand listening to me and left. I don't blame him. I killed his friends and his mother, after all." He absently ran his tongue over his maw. "Bukua and Ajia still see me as their King and they've sworn their continued loyalty, despite knowing my past. Jibade and Mpenzi…" Here, he turned to look fully at Kesha and smiled with fatherly love and pride. "I couldn't ask for a better son and daughter," he said, facing Ibada again. "Kesha and I have taught them well. They neither condoned nor judged, but said they loved me and forgave me for a sin I committed long before they were born." Tears of gladness filled his eyes.

Ibada nodded, pleased that the King did not lose the love of his children or the support of his guardians. "Sire, if the nightmares return…"

"I'll see you immediately."

When the shaman turned to Kesha, the Queen merely looked at her mate, saying plainly and boldly, "I, too, have already forgiven him."

At that, Ibada felt the beat of his heart return to its normal slow rhythmic pace. The royal leaders left a few minutes later, and Ibada, feeling the numbness in his body, returned up to his tree and walked over to his grass bed. He collapsed into it, rolling on his back, his hands on his chest. His eyes searched the skies, and the leaves of the many branches above.

"Rahimu," the monkey prayed in a quiet voice, "you led Dhoruba here for a reason, Akanni too. I haven't even spoken to the other, but I worry for both of them. They'll have a lot of ground to cover, a lot to talk about. They've struggled and suffered, Lord. Will they ever find peace?" He waited with closed eyes, hoping for an answer. After a few long beats of his heart, there was none.

Ibada swallowed back his emotions, but the tears of sorrow and regret for Dhoruba's painful past began to rise and he allowed them to seep out. In his spirit he knew Rahimu would answer.

"But not yet," he told himself and drifted off into an exhaustive midday sleep.

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The King's confession nearly stunned Akanni into complete silence. While his talk with Johari helped, if only a little, he was glad she did not pressure him to talk any further about his feelings that day. But it was that night, when he entered his chamber to sleep that caused him worry. As he expected, Johari had followed him and he resisted the urge to tell her to return to where her family slept. He knew that she had gone out of her way to find him, had chosen to stay at his side and saying nothing unless asked.

After his rightful explosion as he listened to King Dhoruba's past, Akanni had half expected Johari to avoid him altogether. But their talk when she sought him out… when he told her about Shabihi, how they had shed silent tears it caused him to feel a great unease. He knew Johari was unlike any lioness he had ever met and why, after everything she had learned, did she still choose to stay with him in his chamber?

It was a question he'd asked only in his mind as he watched her lay down and put her head on paws after bidding him a soft goodnight that made his heart beat just as softly in his chest. She was, in her own way, like Shabihi, quiet, reserved, never wavering in saying what was on her mind and relying on Rahimu to make sure that her words were right.

In the afternoon sun Akanni's whiskers twitched, his body aching for rest. He took a spot underneath a tree, which, thankfully, housed a waterhole not too far away. It was as though everything he needed was always ready when the need was great. If he needed shade, he found it. If he needed a waterhole, it was only a few steps away.

Since he arrived in the Western Plains he'd heard the animals, no matter what species they were, talk about how their needs were always provided for in one form or another, that it was Rahimu Himself who did the providing. In his years as a rogue, a wanderer, he sometimes remember the King of his home say that needs being met had nothing to do with a God watching over them, that everyone made their own luck, their way.

A gentle wind stirred; blowing so softly across Akanni's face he wasn't sure he even felt it. As a cub he wasn't entirely sure what to make of his sovereign's words, but his mother always told him that no matter what the King said, everything had meaning and reason, that everyone was created for some purpose.

"What we do with our lives matters, Akanni," she would say. "Rahimu only wants what's best for us." Then she would nuzzle him, and in a purr, say, "He wants what's best for you too, my son."

Akanni sighed and sniffed, remembering that Shabihi had said the same as much as she could, more so in the days after they fled their home to escape their murderous Prince. When he started growing his mane, he would tell himself that by some miracle the Prince was dead. That he either met with a malicious coalition of rogues and perished or died while hunting. That something, anything or anyone could have possibly taken the one who destroyed his and Shabihi's lives. Growing up thoughts such as that gave him temporary peace. Akanni shut his eyes. He had never told Shabihi. She'd had her own inner hurt to deal with and he never, not even once or by accident, burdened her with his.

I hope you know I didn't mean to hide that from you, he thought sadly… or prayed?

With a grunt and a slight soft snarl he got to his feet and started walking again. Each step, however, proved to be painful, like his legs had no feeling. His back hurt but he had no urge to stop and stretch. His mind was a mess. He couldn't believe the situation he was in and found himself thankful that Shabihi – Rahimu, give her peace – that she did not live to see where he would have led them, inadvertently as it was. What would she have thought, said, or done? Would she have done what he wanted to do three days before when he finally recognized King Dhoruba? When the King admitted to the destruction of his birth pride, of the ones Akanni and Shabihi loved most dearly?

Another growl eased its way from his throat and he thanked Rahimu over and over for calling Shabihi to eternal rest, no matter how much it had hurt him to lose her. He had survived without her, got through the days of wandering as a rogue without her, but could he survive this? Knowing that the lion who took everything from him was King of this land, who had allowed Akanni permission to feel welcomed and at home?

The redmaned lion shook his head. It was becoming all too much. He couldn't look at Dhoruba or even attempt to talk to him anymore, to see and hear the words of a changed lion. In his own rage and anger, he had managed to sneak a few looks at the King while he spoke of his past. He saw conflict, pain, shame, but his own emotions upon remembering his mother's death and seeing the event play in his head was all he could take. After that, nothing else mattered and he didn't trust himself to hear the rest. It was why he left. He just couldn't risk doing something stupid and he didn't want to put any unnecessary worry on Johari.

One question weighed heavily on his heart, his mind, and it was not going to go away anytime soon. It had been gnawing at him for three days already. He let it come. Could he stay in the Western Plains under the leadership of the lion who killed his mother?

His heart pounded hard against his ribs and he forced himself to stop and endure the hard beats. He bowed his head, his mane falling into his face, clinging to the fur. Closing his eyes he prayed silently, desperately. Rahimu, what should I do? He felt anger rise again, wasn't sure if he wanted to stop it this time. Another breeze came by, but all he felt inside and out was cold. The worst part was that he had no one to talk to. There was no one in the Western Plains, aside from Johari that he could completely trust. These lions of the realm were still strangers to him; he hadn't been here long enough to speak with them on matters so personal, even with what he'd heard three days ago.

As he continued to walk, another question entered his mind, one that caused his heart to beat increasingly. Can I stay here? Pain overwhelmed him, made him shut his eyes and stop in mid-walk once again. He tried to breathe, forced himself, but it felt as though he had no control of his own body. A sharp pain gripped his head, causing him to hiss loudly, and this time he couldn't breathe. He gasped, thinking he was going to vomit. His legs – front and back – were numb, like they weren't even attached to his body.

The question came again, full forced. Can I stay here? It was a good question, but painful nonetheless and he twirled it around in his head. Could he stay here knowing that the lion – Dhoruba – was the lion he'd dreamed out finding and killing when he was younger? The same Dhoruba who was King of these lands, the King who said he could stay for as long as he liked? What were Dhoruba's thoughts of him now, knowing that Akanni was the last survivor of their old pride? Wouldn't it be awkward or tempting for either of them to claw each other? Then he wondered if Dhoruba would even attack him. What if Akanni initiated the attack? Would Dhoruba fight to defend himself?

In the back of his mind he could hear a faint voice reminding him of what Johari had told him just three days ago.

The lion you knew as a cub was raised by a tyrant, she had said.

That was true, and other than Dhoruba, he too had seen it for himself. Even now it still frightened him that one lion could inspire such fear in the minds and hearts of his subjects. Dhoruba's father had wanted to raise Dhoruba to be exactly like him!

Before he learned the truth Akanni had seen for himself that the King of this land wasn't like the one he had known… Dhoruba wasn't like his father! The idea of it, or the reality, was too much to fathom. How could he, after so many years of living outside of a pride and the leadership of a King?

Slowly, Akanni opened his eyes and shifted the weight of his body a little, moving his forelegs up and down. Johari had, gently, slowly and carefully tried to convince him that the lion that had ruined his life wasn't the same lion who confessed to it. How he wanted to believe her! He had been grappling with that for the past three days. Could he believe her? Even if he did, how could he and Dhoruba make peace? There was still too much hurt, too much resentment, and too much anger and deep pain for them to just put aside the past. Was peace possible for them?

"It would take years," he said quietly. The same question came again and he spoke in the same quiet tone of voice. "Can I stay here after all this?" Uttered from his mouth, the answer seemed an impossible. He'd been here too long already; he couldn't just leave, even under the cover of the night sky. He had the trust of the royal family, Dhoruba included; his reaction to the King's past didn't matter because he posed no actual threat to them. He'd only acted in pain, sorrow.

Akanni shut his eyes, confused and filled with despair. How could they understand? How could they still see Dhoruba as their King? Was he missing something? He knew the inhabitants of the Western Plains believed firmly and strongly in Rahimu, but this! Their behavior reminded him of Shabihi and his real mother so much there were times he could barely stand it.

Akanni knew he could leave and they wouldn't be able to stop him. Nothing was keeping him here anyway, nothing and no…

Johari, he then thought unwillingly. Sudden sadness gripped him as he realized he couldn't say goodbye to her, let alone think about it. She had endured scrutiny from her older brother because of him, but she had taken it in stride. Her actions surprised him, maybe even flattered him, if only a little. Of all the lions he met here, Johari's behavior astounded him the most. He knew she liked him, he liked her too, but everything she did had been for him and she never asked for anything in return. Her actions, inadvertently, gave him a reason to try and trust these lions, especially the royal family, but the only one he had ever talked to was Prince Jibade.

Deep down, he didn't want to leave. He had been without a pride for so long as it was… Johari would be saddened if he left, and he couldn't do that to her, no matter how good the reason was.

No, if he had any reason to stay, it was for her and all she had done for him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The night was cool, and the animals of the Western Plains who roamed at such a time decided to take advantage of having the lands all to themselves. The moon was full and the stars were out, which many were thankful for.

On the northern border of the kingdom, two animals, lions, stood side by side, watching and observing. One was bigger than the other, standing just a little taller than his counterpart. They were careful not to be seen, even more careful not to be heard.

The shorter lion turned to the other. "The truth is out. What happens next?"

"That's where you come in."

"Yeah… wait, me?"

"Yes. After all, you were there and you know the place. It's been so long for both of them that they won't remember. The only way to straighten this out once and for all is for them to return. They have to, otherwise…"

"Alright, I understand, but what about you?"

"I'll be there. However, you will speak with the younger lion while I talk with the King."

A shrug, then, "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

"I didn't say that it would be, but it needs to be done."

"So… when…?"

"That depends on you."

"Then I'll need to move fast, let the King know I mean no harm."

"It is a good first step. The rest should come naturally."

An unsure, reluctant laugh sounded. "Is any of this natural?"

"I suppose not, but it is what it is."

The younger, shorter male turned his head to meet the eyes of the other, spoke with a voice of determination. "I won't let you down."

"You never have. Now, you'd best find a place to sleep. You will need all your strength to carry this task out."

"Thank you for choosing me."

"You're welcome. I will see you when it is time." With that the older lion turned and left, leaving the other to look at the lands ahead.

Sighing deeply, he spoke very softly to himself, "A painful past always hurts. But confronting it and letting it go opens the way to a better future."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Alright, as is custom around this time of year, this is gonna be my last chapter until the holidays are over. Hopefully I'll be more up to speed and posting in 2014.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!