Munkustrap

The silver and black tabby had been but nine when he went to his first meeting with his father. He was supposed to just listen in, but it had not gone well. Old Deuteronomy's council had complaints about everything, including the weather in which he had no control over. It was during a small gap between conversation that the toms turned their attention to little Munkustrap, who wasn't paying attention at all.

He was using his tail to draw his name in the frothy, iced ground below, though not very successfully. He'd always been a quiet, precocious young kitten that never caused any trouble, but at this moment when his only instructions were to listen intently, he did not obey. Not out of spite... but because he was a child. He wanted to play in what little snow they would get all year. He instead used his claw to draw the 'M' shape he had on his own forehead. The mark of the scarab, humans called it.

One of Old Deuteronomy's advisors cleared his throat and looked at him. The large tom then sighed, "Munkustrap, what is it that you're doing?"

"I'm writing my name in the snow, Father." He said in his small voice.

"You should be listening to what your father is saying, young man." Said the advisor.

"I am listening."

"I think this meeting is over anyway." Old Deuteronomy said to the toms and sent them away, looking back at his son. "My boy." He said in his clear, deep voice. It was then that the kitten looked up from his artwork with his big, blue eyes at his father. "I told you to keep still and listen." He told him.

"But I was still, and I did listen!" He replied sadly.

"Well, next time you'll make it clear that you are. All right?" He asked in the gentlest voice possible.

"Yes, Father..." And as their lessons progressed, Munkustrap got to spend less time making shapes out of leaves and seeds and playing with his friends and more time accompanying his father on his duties and getting used to being in the presence of adults. Munkustrap began learning how to sing properly; though he could only practice if he thought everyone was out of hearing range.

One day, he sang Where Is Love? A song he'd learned by ear, but when he turned around and saw his father, Jennyanydots, and Jellylorum standing there, smiling broadly and clapping, he was too modest to return their gaze. Dancing felt more natural to him, as did telling a story in song or speaking regularly. Then again, were songs not stories in their own right? Perhaps if he thought of it that way, he wouldn't be so nervous about performing it in front of anybody. Music soon became like a second language to the Mau. He still felt uncomfortable in the eyes of so many different adult cats looking at him, but it was what his father saw everyday... meaning it was what he would be seeing everyday.

He'd sometimes look wistfully at his friends playing without him; not so much out of jealousy, but curiosity. He wondered if they had so many things on their minds as well... but they seemed as carefree and relaxed as ever. Munkustrap would sometimes think they'd forgotten about him and didn't want to be his friend anymore because of how little he got to see them.

Strangely of all, he began to miss his own little brother, who seemed to smile less and less with each passing month.

The kit eventually started to get bad dreams about his father yelling at him, saying he was disappointed in him, being given instructions that were maddeningly impossible to follow. His brother not remembering who he was were the worst parts of them. Sometimes it'd be so much that Munkustrap would wake his father to tell him, but the only response he'd get was that they were just silly dreams and to go back to sleep. Old Deuteronomy did, however, assure him that nothing that happened in those dreams were possible, and that he could never be disappointed in his boys, bringing him some relief.

But naturally, as he turned from a young, playful kitten into a reserved and self-conscious teenager, Munkustrap became increasingly uncertain of his priorities. He shared in the loneliness his own brother was feeling, but had no escape from his work to tell him this, or at the very least remind him that he was still important to him. Still, Munkustrap had the company of his father and the other older cats... Rum Tum Tugger had nobody his age to spend time with. If only he'd been more assertive about having some time with his brother, Munkustrap would think today, then he wouldn't have gotten so hateful and defiant when he got older.

It was too late to change any of that now, and at the time, neither of them knew any better. Munkustrap just loved to see his superiors happy with him; it made him feel good to know he served so well. He was a hard worker, and found himself taking a liking to his rehearsals and other practices around the tribe. Sometimes he'd neglect singing the songs he'd been instructed to practice and instead whatever song he liked for his own pleasure, stealing some time for himself without anybody watching for once.

Munkustrap didn't think his voice was refined or special, but in many years to come, his wife would tell him that his melodies would fill her with emotion she had not heard in song before. When certain that he was alone, his singing became more confident, more free. He hated how one day, he'd been so absorbed in the lyrics, he had to stop abruptly when Jennyanydots summoned him to his father's quarters.

He recalled the look his father had on his face; normally it was hard to tell just what he was thinking, but today Munkustrap sensed that he had something unpleasant on his mind. "What is it?" Asked the then-seventeen-year-old Munkustrap. The Scottish Fold queen left them to talk privately. "Dad?" He asked again, taking the older tom out of his thoughts.

"I've been speaking with one of my advisors—about your... betrothal."

Munkustrap's ears flattened. They'd conversed briefly about the matter of him being paired off with a queen once or twice... and the grey tom would feel himself darken every time he thought about it. "Oh."

"His niece, you see, she's come of age. Well, she's your age, actually. And we've thought about," he cleared his throat, "introducing you two." It didn't take a genius to figure out what he really meant. Munkustrap nodded stiffly. "I've asked her to have tea with us tomorrow while she visits. I'm sure you two will get along." Munkustrap nodded again, still not saying anything.

When he told his brother this that same evening, Tugger could only scoff. "You're getting married now?" Bemoaned the thirteen-year-old.

"I'm just gonna talk to her. That's all." Neither were looking at each other, both lying on whatever blanket they got to first.

"That's so stupid. Dad has to bring a girl here just to get them to talk to you?"

Munkustrap glared at him with a creased brow. "Tugger, the attitude's getting old."

"It is, though." Chided the Maine Coon. "There are lots of queens here for you to talk to."

"Well it wouldn't matter if I did, Dad said I'm supposed to be arranged with someone."

"And I already said: that's stupid." He murmured.

"Whatever." Munkustrap sighed. "I'm sure she's nice."

"What if she's ugly?" Tugger said just to mess with him.

"It doesn't matter what she looks like, Tugger." His eyes were already closed, attempting to drown out the pestering kit. Rum Tum Tugger gave him another snide comment, but this time the tabby chose to ignore him so he'd shut up. When he slept, Munkustrap had an unusual and somewhat muddling dream. It was his wedding day, though there was a small den made up in the center of the junkyard where a queen he'd never seen before was waiting for him. His heart dropped when he realized just what she was expecting. Worse, everyone was looking at them.

Munkustrap hesitantly got on top of her, his paws shaking as he struggled to remember where he should touch her or what it would even look like. He'd never seen a queen with her sex out before. His dream presented it to him as some sort of gaping hole where he slipped his own into. It throbbed and he tried to stifle a moan. He pushed somewhat gracelessly into her when someone shouted he was doing it wrong. It only worsened his anxiety. His heart raced even faster as he pushed harder. He was trying!

But all these eyes on him, it took away any ounce of concentration in him. He was close when he woke up; only he was immensely uncomfortable more than he felt pleasured and relaxed. He looked over at his brother with nervous eyes to see that he thankfully had not disturbed him. Munkustrap swallowed and did what he could to suppress the feeling. He rubbed his eyes as if to try and rid himself of the discomfort he'd felt in the dream; why had everyone been watching... worse, was that what he was expected to do once they were mates?

God, he was waiting for the stress to finally kill him. He really didn't want to sleep after that, but he knew he'd need at least an adequate amount of brain power for the following day.

—

When Munkustrap met the Manx queen, Philomena, he was... relieved to say the least. At least she's pretty, he found himself thinking, though he quickly rebuked himself for having such a superficial thought. She had big, golden eyes and a brownish-grey colored coat. Old Deuteronomy's trusted friend introduced them, "My niece, Philomena."

"Philomena, my oldest son, Munkustrap." All the queen was given from the silver tabby was a bowed head and a deep blush. His worst fears would come true once the two adults left them alone together. Philomena found herself surprisingly chatty and comfortable once the strangeness of the situation passed. Munkustrap would only nod or give one-word responses. He was holding his paws together only because he was shaking so much.

"Are you shy?" She asked suddenly, making his already-existing blush worsen.

"No, um. I'm sorry. I've just... never done this before." He confessed bashfully.

"Done what? Talk to a queen?"

"Of course I have!" He said defensively. "I mean, you know that... my father wants us to..." His ears flattened.

"Mhm." She casually took a sip of her drink. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do you like what you see?"

Munkustrap looked at her, frightened and appalled. "I— What do you mean? You're very attractive, if that's what you're asking..." He nervously looked away.

"I've been told that Jellicle Cats are quite the singers and dancers. Perhaps you'll have to serenade me someday." Munkustrap said nothing. "You look quite flexible, if I might say so myself."

"How?"

"You've got a nice, lean body. You must take good care of it." Munkustrap was stumped as how to respond to that, so he kept quiet. "Make no mistake of it, when we're mates, I promise we'll—"

Munkustrap startled. "Wait, wait." He said in a sudden need to speak up. "You're saying you've already decided?"

"I mean, I don't see why not!" She sat her cup down. "It's not like you have any other choices waiting, do you?"

Munkustrap felt his brow crease and eyes narrow. Something about her tone had come across as very pretentious. And Munkustrap tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. "I... no, but, I'd like at least more time to consider this. It's not just your decision."

As if ignoring him, Philomena stood up to pour herself some more tea. Munkustrap felt slighted. "I don't suppose you think your familial ties make you any more entitled than the other queens here." He expected that had something to do with it; she was his father's advisor's niece. Munkustrap hid his irritation for now and let her get another drink. Already he began to feel weary of this Manx's 'company' if one wanted to call it that.

Philomena turned around, gazing at the tabby's soft-looking neck, fur preened and smoothed. Without thinking of what she was doing, she crossed over behind him and pulled on his collar so she could kiss it. Her tongue had lapped his fur out of place when he gasped and stood up, throwing her paw away from his hold. Munkustrap gave her a look of such reproach that it made her shiver.

Needless to say, the Egyptian Mau was not anxious to see her again. "What went wrong?" Old Deuteronomy asked, baffled.

"Nothing went wrong, it's just that she's wrong." He explained himself without looking at him, still feeling her slimy lips on his neck.

"How do you know? You only talked to her for fifteen minutes."

"Dad. Please, just trust me! I've trusted you these past six years. I just can't look at her without seeing this self-entitled... spoiled..."

"Young man, I've told you that first impressions aren't always accurate."

"Okay." He said, forcing himself to agree. "But maybe it's just me." Old Deuteronomy cocked his head to the side. "I don't think I'm ready for a mate yet."

"The pairing won't even come for a few years! You'll have plenty of time to get to know her." Munkustrap kept silent, not in the mood for talking. He felt something inside him he hadn't before. His paws were balled into fists. "You'll have to be married at some point."

"Is it so wrong to let me choose my own mate?" He said loudly enough just so his father could barely hear him; it was Munkustrap's first act of defiance. "Someone who doesn't tell me they're entitled to have me because they're the best offer I'm gonna get?"

Old Deuteronomy sighed. "I'll have my advisors—"

"No!" Munkustrap exclaimed. "I don't want your advisors bringing me a queen I've never met before and expect me to fall in love with her on the spot." His voice was thin and soaring, stating his feelings clearly and without any hint of uncertainty. This had never happened before, and the grey tabby couldn't explain where it had come from.

"It's what we have to do as leader. We all make sacrifices for our tribe!" Shouted his father right back. "I had to do it and so will you!" Munkustrap had never felt so hurt by him before, and if his glossy eyes didn't show it, nothing else would."We'll find you the right mate." He said more calmly. "And in time you'll learn to get along. For now, go and do your lessons." He commanded him before leaving the tom in his den.

What had his father meant? Had he not sacrificed enough of his own wants for him already? When would it ever be enough? "I won't practice." He grumbled lividly. "I won't practice and I don't fucking care!" He knocked over a pile of garbage and rubble that crashed as it hit the ground. "Blast and damn and bugger! Bloody, bloody, bugger!" He went on as if he were a kitten having a tantrum, holding his trembling fists close to his chest. Skimbleshanks had come walking by and saw the despondent teenager.

"Where are you going, young man?" He asked. Was he his boss now too? Fuck him. Fuck everyone!

"TO HELL!" And then Munkustrap blitzed off in a fury.