"Innocent fun," Tygra had called this.

Bengali wasn't so certain about that, but he supposed it was harmless enough, and it was...well, nice. He didn't even remember how the topic had come up a few weeks ago, but it had.

Sabine, one of the Palace's many servants, but thus far—and likely to remain—the only to have occupied the space beside him, lay pressed against his side, claws idly drawing swirls in his fur. She hummed quietly, a lullaby he thought he had heard before but couldn't quite place. Even not knowing it, it made him feel melancholy.

He sighed quietly, claws trailing across the expanse of her dark-furred back.

She tilted her head up, dark brown eyes peering at him. Then, she snuggled closer to his body. "Are you going to wear black tomorrow, Prince Bengali?" she asked, her voice solemn.

Why would he-?

The anniversary of her death, the fifteenth year. Which was also Lion-O's fifteenth nameday, though the Kingdom had something of a tradition of mourning first, then celebrating.

"Of course," he answered, sighing again. "Sabine- that lullaby you were humming..."

"The one about little soldiers?" she inquired, giving a short hum of its melody. He nodded; and with the brief description of the lullaby, he recognized it. It was one Leona had sung often enough when he and Tygra had just been kittens.

Feeling a stab of grief, like a blade in the dark, he sighed again, still bobbing his head.

"What was she like? The Queen?" Sabine tentatively questioned, propping herself up on an elbow. Strands of her dark mane slipped over her shoulder, the straight, long tresses tickling his chest.

"She was..." he started, knitting his brows. By Thundera, he hadn't spoken of her in years. Not since her death. And not out of a personal desire to not, but because Claudus and Tygra hadn't wished to speak of her. It was "too painful" for either of them, and anytime he or Lion-O had pressed the subject, it had accomplished only angering the two and placing blame of her death on the young lion, unfairly. Bengali didn't share that opinion, never had. It was something that had always caused he and Tygra to fight, metaphorically dig their heels in and butt heads.

Bengali remembered being wary, at first, of the small cub. But during the many nights he had wandered the Palace, not quite understanding why their mother wasn't there and so looking for her in his confusion, he had come across the nursery. Not their nursery - that had still been their room until they were fifteen or sixteen and finally had it with sharing a room - but his.

He had woken up from a particularly bad dream, he recalled, and had padded through the corridors straight to the nursery; his young logic had been that maybe she was there, and Tygra and Father were just jealous...or something. It was a room he hadn't ever gone into before, but during the day he saw Jaga go inside, and Mother's ladies-in-waiting. Excellent reasoning, truly, but it seemed silly to him now. In fact, a lot of things his younger self did seemed nonsensical at best.

His first impression upon seeing Lion-O was that he looked a lot like her. And he did; his fur was the same shade as hers, far too light to have been from Father, and his eyes- something about his eyes had been quintessentially Leona that he still couldn't put it into words, didn't know how to.

If his memory was correct, which it was, Jaga had found him—Jaga always found him—staring in the crib, babbling something to Lion-O. Probably about Mother, but he wasn't certain.

And rather than escort him back to his and Tygra's room, the old tom had shown him how to hold the newborn, then promptly left when it became clear that "he's in good paws." Claudus had flown into a panic the next morning when he went to rouse Tygra, and him, and had apparently had most of the Palace scrambling to find him.

Sabine brought him out of his reminiscing, claws dragging through his black-banded mane. "I've heard she was a very gentle soul." she told him, voice quiet.

His lips quirked slightly. "She was very compassionate."

At that, she pursed her lips, smiling a little. "I don't doubt that, Prince Bengali."

Bengali supposed that was a given; or she had been truly desperate when he and Tygra came to Thundera for a child, that she would take in two tiger cubs and claim them as her children. For a time, in his young adolescence, he had begun to believe it was the latter. Now, he thought perhaps it was both, but either way, she had came to love them more than flesh and blood. That much was undeniable when he remembered how saddened she looked that day, when she told them they were going to be big brothers - and she had started out looking so genuinely happy that she was having her own child.

With that, his lips twitched in a frown; whatever they may have been to her, and however much she loved them, they wouldn't ever have been hers. Not the way Lion-O was.

"My mother told me that she was very beautiful and always fair." Sabine continued, smoothing her paw over his mane, tucking white strands back.

Everyone seemed to be under the impression that Tygra and he had known her well.

But they hadn't, really; they had only been four. Too young to really know people past the feeling of liking or disliking them. She had told them stories, yes, but not of herself, and he didn't even really remember them that well. They had been eight before Claudus started telling them stories of himself, and he had shared them each many times - Bengali had his favorites, and Tygra his, and sometimes it didn't even seem like those things could have happened to their father.

"She was," he responded, propping himself up. Idly, he gently pulled the silky smooth hairs if her mane through his claws. "But...I don't know what to say about her. I loved her dearly. Love her." Simply because she was dead and gone didn't mean he cared any less about her. He wouldn't ever not care about her.

She blinked at him, long and dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks, with understanding and sympathy.

Bengali found Lion-O sitting in his "alternative" rooms, tinkering with a sad set to his shoulders.

For a whole seven minutes, the lion remained unaware of his presence in the doorway, leaning against the squared, stone archway. The entire time, Bengali just watched him. Lion-O wore black clothes, largely identical to his blue daily attire. His shoulders were slumped, face downcast and upset, and his turquoise eyes were half-lidded with despair.

Interestingly enough, it wasn't the first time he had found Lion-O in such a state. Usually, it was after Tygra said one thing or another that left Lion-O's ego smaller than it was before.

He could only imagine what it was this time, since Tygra had been very much glued to Claudus' side the entirety of the morning, even before Bengali awoke, and the dignitaries had come to give their condolences—again—and prepare for the Crown-Prince's nameday, the next day.

When Lion-O finally noticed him standing silently, it was only because he dropped one of his...Bengali didn't know what they were, and he doubted his baby brother did either, so "tinker objects" would have to suffice—which sounded so much better than "junk," as Tygra called them. He crawled under his stone-set table for it, and climbed back out triumphant, pushing himself to his feet. His eyes landed on Bengali, a fine black brow raised at him, and proceeded to drop the item a second time.

"Now that's just a waste of effort." he remarked teasingly, stepping into the room. Lion-O opened his mouth, something like an apology starting to tumble past his lips, and began to bend down for it, but Bengali waved a paw dismissively and crouched down to collect it himself, and inspected it briefly.

Its surface was smooth metal, coppery. It was circular, like a disk that competitors threw, but not nearly heavy enough.

Straightening, he held it out to his younger brother, "Here."

Bashfully, the young lion accepted it, clearing his throat. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Bengali returned, lips pulling into a fond smile. "Do you have any idea what it did? Or is supposed to do?"

Lion-O sighed heavily, shoulders slumping all over again in dejection. "No. And Tygra thinks that I'm only chasing a fairy tale."

"Of course he does," Bengali remarked, trying to keep his voice light. "He's a skeptic."

His brother's lips twisted bitterly as he set the disk down on his workbench. His claws trailed over it in a circle. "What does that make me?"

Bengali took just a heartbeat before answering, "Not Tygra." He shrugged, "Who knows, Lion-O - maybe one day you'll prove this is real and he's wrong." and we'll go get celebratory drinks for the occasion and celebrate it annually for the rest of our lives. It wasn't the perfect answer, he knew, a dozen more coming to mind now that he had opened his mouth, but it wasn't the worst.

Lion-O continued tracing the metal contours.

When he didn't respond after a minute, Bengali invited, "You know, there are people here who, I'm sure, would love to see their Crown-Prince."

His expression contorted cynically. "You mean people who think I killed Mother."

Ah, the true reason for the dark cloud hanging over the lion.

Bengali crossed the small distance between them to place his paw on his younger brother's shoulder. "Lion-O, you didn't kill Mother. Cats all die, and everyday a cat dies. Sometimes, it might seem like it's someone's fault, but it isn't. Death just...it happens, and it's terrible and confusing. But it's inevitable." On the inside, Bengali wanted to snort at the irony—now he was quoting their blacksmith and Jaga almost word for word. A weird mix of things they'd told him in the past.

The lion's expression drained of cynicism and bitterness, left only perplexed and and deeply contemplative. "I..." he sighed quietly.

"Tygra's a jackass." Bengali chuckled a little, giving Lion-O's shoulder a playful shake. "And he says things he thinks he means, but doesn't deep down, somewhere."

Lion-O barked a laugh at that.

Bengali slid his arm around his shoulders, and guided them towards the door. Tilting his head towards his brother's, he added, "Just don't tell him I said that. We have a twin-confidentiality agreement, and I'm not supposed to, or even allowed to tell you that he has hidden depths."

"What? That's...ridiculous." Lion-O exclaimed.

Bengali just winked in response.