Important Lore: In this AU interspecies couples are extremely common. Any two mammals can have children. There are no hybrids. A mixed species couple will always have a child of one species or the other. If the parents are of differing social status, children of the same species as the nobler parent are 'Trueborn'. Only couples consisting of two rabbits can have litters.
That's all you get ;) please enjoy!
The Lion Throne
Drums echoed out over the cold morning, the sound ricocheting off the great stone face of Terminus. The great mountain leered ominously over the valley; full of anger and desperation as his children waited to be dug from his ancient belly.
"Let the old mountain curse me. Let him shake himself to dust in his rage. Wildeholme is mine. I will suck the marrow from its bones."
The fortress was built into the side of the mountain. Its gates, a huge natural cavern gaped like a frozen scream, a hundred feet high.
House Wilde had lived and ruled in this valley for nearly seven-hundred years. The people were loyal to them even before the throne. It would take subtlety to cow these people. Even after their lord was brought to his knees and relieved of his head they would no doubt rebel. And the tactics they employed: quick strikes, harrying supply lines; slow poison. They knew the land, the mountains and winding passes, the peat bogs and misty moors that stretched out into the cold wet highlands. He would lose his hold here eventually. The tighter he grasped at it the more would slip away. Better to take what he needed and leave... or perhaps there was another way.
The aged king mulled these thoughts over as he lay in his wide cot. Layers of furs and down filled blankets covered his withered flesh. But no amount of warmth seemed able to keep the deep chill from his bones. Not since he'd come to this wretched place. His body ached. His fur greying and matted. Yet his eyes and his mind were still keen. They saw many things and weighed the world against a ledger of self interest that could have filled a great tome.
Uncovering himself slowly, he hissed as the cold air attacked his swollen knees. His nerves lit in agony as he inched out of bed and stood. Bones and tendons popped with every tiny movement. The palsy in his hands caused a tremor to beat through his paws. Still, he was strong enough - strong enough to beat this rebellion into the dust once and for all - strong enough to take what he needed in order to defend his kingdom and his line; to secure his legacy.
He drew a fur off the bed and draped it over his shoulders as he limped towards the entrance of his large tent. A quilt of fox skins, tails dangling like tassels from the edges. He had always believed in the power of symbols and he endeavored to create his own. He knew well the disgust many mammals held towards his tendency to cover himself in the skins of his enemies; let them. Let them whisper of his cruelty; his depravity. So long as they continued to fear him, he would rule.
Pushing into the early morning chill of the valley the king trudged through the previously churned and now half-frozen mud. For half an hour he inched past row upon row of empty tents, mired carts and discarded rubbish. In his youth, Lorne had permitted a guard of his greatest knights to follow him wherever he went. Now though, the belief that he was some sort of warlock had become so ingrained in the minds of the populous that word of his passing would cause a veritable exodus. The common folk believed that they must hold their breath when in his presence, to never gaze into his eyes lest they lose their souls. As ridiculous as that might be, he encouraged the belief, cultivated it, for it provided one of his last bits of entertainment as he watched the fools turn blue and waver on their feet before fleeing or gasping for breath.
Eventually, his joints finally loosening somewhat, Lorne reached the wooden platform that served as his command post. Below him stretched the battlefield. His troops had been arranging themselves since first light; cavalry to the east and west, infantry in ranks behind them. Archers aligned in the rear.
Separated from the other troops, making up the vast bulk of his forces and grouped in the centre of his formation was a milling crowd of Lapin berserkers provided by House Hopps.
Nearly a hundred-thousand rabbits stood corralled in a great disorganized crowd.
The drums were a signal to the incense bearers to light their cencers. Among the berserkers, small clouds of smoke began to appear as bundles of dried night howlers were lit. The incense would free the Lapin forces of their inborn cowardice. It was a delicate manoeuvre. Too much or too little of the toxin and they would be useless. If the winds blew the smoke into his other forces it could cause a catastrophe. It had happened before and he had been forced to slaughter hundreds of his own mammals. He had learned his lesson since then, and that mistake would not be repeated today.
After the allotted time had past several horn blasts sounded. The incense bearers doused their fires. Moments later the Lapin handlers began shouting, the infantry surrounding them pulling inwards, creating a shield wall. The wall acted as the cradle of a sling, holding the mass of restless rabbits.
Then, with a final coordinated command a hundred-thousand small bodies rocketed forward in unison.
The battle had begun.
It was a strange sight to see. The Lapins hurtled into the field, running forward with great speed, spreading wide as they charged. They made no battle cry, the only sound the slight thunder of paws pounding on dew covered grass.
Ahead the forces of House Wilde were holding back.
The rebels had managed to field less than ten thousand troops. All of these were well trained, knights and soldiers; many larger mammals easily worth a multitude of rabbits; or so they thought.
The king allowed himself a wheezing laugh before signalling to his aid, "Send the breakers."
Flags were raised and coded calls made their way to the front of the king's army. Several dozen rhinos, elephants and giraffes dressed in heavy armour began charging forward. They would end up crushing many rabbits under their feet before the day was out, not that it mattered.
The Lapin forces were being peppered with arrows as they closed in on the enemy and, even though hundreds fell, the loss was barely noticeable.
As the two sides clashed, the rabbit attackers were slaughtered, pulped and hurled; smashed like a wave as it broke against jagged rocks. Again, this was as to be expected.
These Lapins entered battle equipped with next to nothing. The less encumbered they were the faster they could be, and speed was their only advantage. On their hips they wore short, foot long stilettos. These blades were fragile and barbed, made specifically to break when embedded in an enemy. Each had been coated with distilled night howler paste.
If even one in ten rabbits was able to strike their foe, the enemy lines would quickly devolve into madness.
The breakers arrived at the rebel shield wall and charged through it, leaving great gaps in the enemy defences. Rabbits streamed through, dodging between legs or leaping over shields, many imbedded their small blades into enemy flesh before they were crushed.
It became quickly apparent that the whole front rank of House Wilde's fighters were beginning to lose control. It took only moments for things to devolve into chaos.
Watching impassively the king called for the second phase to begin. Several short horn blasts signalled all allies on the field to retreat. At the same time the king's cavalry began their forward charge. Animalia's cavalry was feared throughout the world, deadly teams of hooved mammals wearing spiked helmets, ridden by wolves and felines wielding longswords and equipped with heavy armor.
Most of the lapin forces had enough willpower remaining to begin pulling back, removing themselves from the path of the charge.
As for the breakers, they were mostly dead. Each time this little gambit was used it always meant a toll would be taken on the kings heavy forces. It was a cost he was willing to pay.
The forefront of House Wildes forces were still in disarray when the cavalry smashed into them. Several hundred fighters had gone savage and were attacking their friends and allies; little more than mad beasts.
Moments later a horn could be heard reverberating through the bowels of Wildeholme. It signalled for the rebel army to retreat back into the immovable walls of the mountain. The fortress was all but impervious. A near endless numbers of underground passages made it a perfect place to literally dig in.
It was a certainty that they had stocked year's worth of food in the depths and the rebels would no doubt be quite content to resist a siege for many, many months. The king didn't have that long to wait. He needed the riches of the mountain; even tomorrow might be too late.
House Hopps was going to win him the fortress. The gods knew he had paid them for it.
The rebel army had been smashed, at least half their troops lay dead and dying on the valley floor. The rest were funnelling back into the fortress as the cavalry continued to harry them.
Lorne knew that a few hundred rebels would eventually be sacrificed, standing as a death guard to protect the great iron gates as they closed.
The moment to strike arrived as the guard assembled. The king waved a brittle paw as a signal that the Lapins should begin their final task.
Flags were raised and the lapin commanders called their kin to action. They charged again, this time directly at the wall. The great wave of rabbits crashed against the shear stone. Each had been given a metal set of climbing spikes for their hands and feet. The cost to smith the tiny things had been astronomical.
Those rabbits at the front of the charge which failed to climb fast enough where crushed.
Before his eyes the king watched the tiny mammals begin to scale the wall in the thousands. As expected, it was not long before boiling oil began pouring from atop the battlements. Rabbits were seared off the rocky surface. Some were pulled down as others fell writhing and screaming. At its base, half a mile long on either side of the gate, the corpses began to pile. Fire sprang up in many places at once. The screams echoing through the valley sounded out like some orchestra from the deepest depths of hell. Thousands fell, and thousands more were burned alive as yet thousands more were crushed and trampled by their kin.
Still, the rabbits like a sea of beetles continued to climb. Leaping over flaming piles of corpses, burning even as they ascended the craggy stone surface.
For a short time it seemed as if the rebel forces might hold back the tide which never seemed to quite breach the apex. But then, at last, they flooded over the wall.
Even still, as the cavalry put an end to the last of those who had protected the gate, it took minutes, for the horde to push through the final vestiges of opposition. Then they were within the fortress by the tens of thousands; a wave that never seemed to end.
Twenty minutes past before the stone gates swung open once again, having been unlocked from the inside.
The Lapin forces ceased their attack and the king's infantry, still fresh and unbloodied, were sent to sweep in and kill any who were armed. Every noble born fox was to be saved and brought before the king. The remaining members of house Wilde needed to be collected alive.
The battle won, king Lionheart shifted his gaze to a member of his council, one of six currently in attendance, "Lord Otterton, what were our losses within the Hopps contingent?"
Otterton, the soft-spoken bumbler, was by Lorne's estimation, a simpering milk-sop; mild as spring rain. Still, he had his uses; the otter had a mind for numbers and seemed ever-filled with an array of trivia which the king found useful on rare occasions. Also, the certainty he would never try to betray the throne was almost absolute.
"My King, I can only roughly estimate those lost within the keep but I would say fifty to sixty percent."
"Tell me Otterton, what is the greatest number of losses this kingdom, in its illustrious history, has ever seen in any battle."
"It depends on how heavily you weigh the loss of a Lapin my lord. Were you to consider each dead berserker to be a lost soldier then this would be the most costly battle we have ever known. I personally believe though, that losses of 'their kind' should be considered in the realm of shall-we-say, a hundred to one. Should you apply that reasoning to this battle we can consider it a great success, with a loss of only three dozen heavy mammals, two dozen cavalry and five-hundred special troops."
The king didn't contain his sneer, "I have no use for your disingenuous 'corrections' Otterton. The number is sixty thousand - sixty thousand dead. Just burying them will be the work of weeks."
A new voice spoke from the far corner of the command post, "We have Wildeholme. That is worth any number of lives. This may seem like a blow to House Hopps but it has made them the richest of us, eclipsed only by the throne." The cape buffalo, Lord Adrian of house Bogo, his crest (a golden shield) embossed across the centre of his massive plate mail, walked towards the command table. Each step caused the wood beneath his hooves to creak under his considerable weight.
"It was our only choice. Without vulpine steel we have no weapons to defeat the Sarnas. These rebels looked to force their terms. They failed to see that when backed into a corner, an enemy will eventually be forced to fight like animals. These deaths, as horrifying and monstrous as they are, were necessary - a product of the traitorous arrogance and short-sightedness of Robin Wilde and his advisers."
The king nodded slightly but was unconvinced. He hated to admit, but the sight of the burning piles of bodies that dominated the horizon was making him feel things he had thought were buried long ago; guilt, indignation, horror, disgust, and even a remote note of sadness. He would have to sooth his conscience before too long lest this scene affect him.
Lorne was also relieved in a small way. He had become worried, after some of the things he had done, that he'd lost what remained of his conscience. That loss seemed to him a sure way to lose touch with the motivations of the mammals that surrounded him; a failure that he knew would ultimately mean his downfall.
"Find lord Hopps and bring him to me." An attendant who had been waiting for the king's command bowed quickly and left.
"Princess, what say you? How do you see this madness? What will history say?"
The tiny sheep smiled pleasantly as she flipped a hoof into the air causing the many gold baubles encircling her wrist to jangle together. "History will say as we like it to my lord. The Lapins made a noble sacrifice and the kingdom was victorious, all as the gods willed. Naught else will be remembered because we will be the ones to write them - fear of what happened here will ensure it."
Lorne scowled, "A simpleton's answer. As to be expected of your tiny sheep mind." the aged lion hissed at the now wide eyed ewe. "Some acts cannot be erased. This day will mar us all until the end of time. To believe otherwise would be a comforting lie. The reason I sit here listening to you lack wit, asslickers, is the hope that by some miracle I might glean some small hit of truth. Ugly truth, as painful as it may be to the weak minded, is strength to the wise."
The sheep was left stuttering, "Y-you humble me, lord. P-please forgive my ignorance."
The king scoffed, "I don't believe in forgiveness, neither do I believe in grudges." Turning he glanced around the table until his eyes came to rest on the filthy yak sitting at the far end of the table. "I would ask our moon-brained shaman what the Gods have to say, but I remind myself that I don't care."
The only response from the yak was a slight nod followed by an imbecilic laugh.
"Ahh, and my foppish, sheep-biting son. Tell me Leodore, how would you deal with the nobles of House Wilde?"
Startled from a daydream, the pristinely preened lion straightened and looked about hearing his name. Questing for some clue as to what his father had said, he ran his claws nervously over the silver gloss of his ornate 'armor'. "Yes, uh, I'm sorry father, t-the smell has me feeling rather ill. What uh, what was the question?"
"The question, you shameless prey-licker, was, how quickly do you think it will take me to replace you with one of your bastard siblings if you should ever fall in battle? That is if you ever choose to attend one personally instead of watching from afar?"
The young lion puffed up slightly, rage lighting his features as he bared his teeth.
"I doubt very much we will ever find out, grey mane, seeing as you are surely soon to expire. And you are one to talk. From what I've heard you've bedded nearly every species in Animalia."
"I may have buried my sword willfully in my youth, but I never was so stupid as to marry prey, and a sheep for that matter. You must be built like a wasp, else you would have killed her by now. That, or, as I would expect, your Dawn is the loosest bleating quim who ever lived."
Leodore stood hurling his chair backwards in a blind rage. Fumbling with the golden sheath he grasped for his sword. Before he had a chance to draw though, the king pulled a round piece of wood from the sleeve of his robe. On it was inscribed a pointed red rune that seemed to glow in the morning light.
As soon as Leodore beheld the mark, he froze, gasping and began to shake violently. In seconds he was cowering on his knees, his hands to his eyes as his lungs worked like bellows.
Lady Lionheart rushed from her seat around the table and held his arm. She whispered quietly in his ear as she hugged her tiny form against him.
Still heaving, panicked, Leodore was able to stagger away from the table, his wife guiding him gently.
Throughout the entire spectacle the king laughed uproariously only stopping to occasionally wheeze. When his laughter had finally died down he found the table had fallen completely silent. Those seated averting their gaze, staring silently anywhere but at the king.
Still grinning he shouted again, "Where is Hopps!"
The aid, who was only just returning ran up to him, breathing heavily, "The lord Hopps has just arrived my king."
"Good, bring him to me."
Moments later the squat, husky rabbit was led to the seat previously taken up by the princess. Lorne could see the glaze of fear that cloaked the Lapin, he appeared as if he might faint at any moment.
"Lord Hopps, where is the Lady Hopps? I haven't enjoyed the pleasure of her company since the day you were married. And, I must say, you appear somewhat unwell." The old king purred.
"Y-yes, my king. Lady Hopps begs your forgiveness, she has fallen ill. I-I fear the day has affected me as well..."
"Quite understandable, and no matter. I admit, even I am appalled by the outcome. That is, in fact, why I called you here. As further compensation for the great sacrifice made by your subjects, I would like to offer you three small consolations."
The quaking rabbit mastered himself slightly hearing this, "Th-thank you lord, you are most generou-"
"Ah! Now, you haven't even heard what it is I'm giving you. First, I will not be asking for any tax, be it coin or food, from any rabbit family who has recently birthed a litter of kits, for the next three years. Second; for the next six months, any union between two rabbits shall be gifted twelve silver marks."
The demeanor of lord Hopps was swiftly changing, "That is most generous my king. After this tragedy, the people will be bolstered-"
"Yes, I know. And no doubt we will have hordes of little Lapins come the spring. How wonderful. Now, the final boon depends on several factors. Tell me lord Hopps, how old is your eldest child?"
Caught off guard the plump rabbit stuttered, "M-my d-daughter Judith is twenty-four this year."
"Ah! A daughter - that was going to be my next question. No doubt she is married?"
"No lord, Judith… has always been a contrary child. She has been unwilling to marry any buck me or her mother have ever arranged for her to meet."
"But surely you could have forced the issue, could you not? It is exceedingly odd for a Lapin to go so long and remain unmarried."
"Yes, Lord, that is normally true. Judith is willful, and can't be forced... it would seem."
"Very interesting, now, just two more questions. Was Judith the only kit in her litter, and, what are the color of her eyes?"
"Well… s-she was the only kit in her litter and her eyes are purple, both very unusual and unique traits in our household. I've always wonder-"
"Good! Now, I think that settles it." Lorne clapped his hands gently, "Here is what your third and final boon shall be. From this day forth I induct the Lapin race into the hall of honor. This means that any rabbit may now apply to be trained as an Honor Guard and may attain his or her knighthood."
A hoof slamming down onto the wooden table caused all heads to turn towards lord Bogo.
"King Lionheart! The honor guard has always been reserved for the noble class of mammals - rabbits have no place among us. To even consider their admittance is an insult to all those knights who have lived and died protecting this kingdom. The gods demand-"
"I piss on your gods!" The king roared, seeming for a moment far more hail than his age would admit. "I shit, on your 'noble' mammals. You are my servant Bogo, honor-bound to me! My will is your law, obey or lose your all-important honor along with your head."
Veins popped out of the water buffalo's neck and if looks could kill he might have struck the king dead. However, staring into the lions haunting eyes, the bull deflated and lowered his head before placing a fist over his heart. "Forgive me Lord. I will obey."
Before the King could respond his aid whispered in his ear and informed him that the family Wilde awaited him.
The King smiled, "Bring them before me. Bogo, search the foxes, you can never trust their kind." Bogo nodded and walked away.
Several minutes later, two blood spattered, mud encrusted mammals were dragged onto the wooden platform. The aid announced them as they arrived, "Lord Wilde of Wildeholme and his first born son, Nicholas. Sadly my King, these are the only two members of house Wilde who survived the conflict."
Lorne wanted to stand up and rage, but silently mastered himself. Both of the foxes in front of him looked bereft, they slumped against their bonds; runnels of tears had cleaned the blood and dirt from the space below their eyes.
"And so comes this final irksome task. I do not wish for either of you to speak, just listen. You are both of noble birth and yet you have betrayed your king. For that, you should be put to death. Unfortunately, I need your people to create the vulpine steel which is needed to protect my kingdom. So, for the greater good, I am going to offer you the king's mercy."
The younger of the two foxes snarled savagely, "You killed my mother! My sisters! Fuck your mercy you-"
Bogo leaned down and pummeled a fist into the fox's stomach. Nicholas toppled gasping, his head bouncing off the wooden floor.
The king continued as if nothing had happened, "Robin Wilde you shall be locked in the twelfth spire until the day you die. Your execution will be withheld so long as your people deliver what I require. Should you ever attempt to escape, the life of your son will be forfeit."
The elder fox didn't even seem to be aware of what was happening, his head lulled, his eyes staring into nothing.
The old lion couldn't help but betray a smirk, "Nicholas Wilde you will be married to the Lady Judith Hopps at the earliest opportunity. You will take the name Hopps. Your wife will be given all the rights and privileges of a male heir, therfore her title will be that of 'Lord', while your official title shall now, and forever, be that of 'Lady'."
This pronouncement caused a smatter of laughter to erupt around the table. Even lord Bogo smiled at the shame being leveled on the pathetic lordling. Lord Hopps merely gaped, eyes bulging in disbelief.
"If your union produces any trueborn sons they will retain the noble name of 'Wilde' and will be sent to live in Wildehome under the care of a guardian who I shall appoint. Should you ever leave the Barrowlands without my express permission, you, your father and your trueborn children will be hunted down and killed."
The king glanced at the guards towering over the two broken nobles. He waved a hand and the foxes were immediately lifted and taken away.
Things were quieter then, for a short while.
In the distance the sound of thousands of dying Lapins could still be heard echoing over the highlands. Lorne half expected Lord Hopps to protest his daughter's betrothal, but the rabbit seemed to have gone into some kind of fugue.
The king turned to his aid once more and said, "Bring food and warm blankets to my tent." to this the servant bowed vigorously and was gone.
Lorne then stood and began the agonizing journey back to his bed. Those around him had long ago learned not to offer any help.
As he eased his way forward in the morning light, plans within plans churned ever round in his mind. If any had the courage to look, they would have seen a devious and lustful desire burned brightly behind his two, cold, violet eyes.