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It was a surprising day when her father gave her away to a newly-formed pride, but in no case pleasantly so. She didn't understand why he did such a thing. He just did, yanking her away from all she had ever known.
So here she was, sulkily moping in the new Pride's Den. The only other lioness, Kilima, was pregnant and asleep. Her pelt bore the signs of a commoner, and she scoffed at that. She could trace her heritage all the way to most of her great-great-grandparents, whereas Kilima only cheerily said she had no idea who sired her nor even who reared her.
The King was no better. He only mentioned once about his parents (they were dead by the time he was five months old), and didn't act much like a king. He was too friendly. And he was often out exploring. More often than not, he brought back pieces of prey for the three to eat. But she didn't touch a single thing. She would only consume what she had brought down herself. A princess would not eat commoner food; she must only eat what is appropriate for her rank. It was a simple rule of nature.
But the King didn't seem to mind. In fact, he encouraged her to go out and stretch her legs, get a feel for the new territory. She didn't care for his words, but his permission meant she had the freedom to roam. She could even run away if she wanted to!
But, for some reason, something stopped her. She didn't know why her paws led her back to the den. She didn't know what made her feel almost jealous when the King roared his laughter as he talked with Kilima.
It was a very queer feeling.
Several days passed, and little changed. She remained aloof, scornful, regal as her upbringing made her. The King often stared at her with a quizzical expression, but she only tossed her head if she noticed.
Then, finally, one night, the King padded up to her without her noticing.
"The stars are lovely tonight," he said. She was startled, but she refused to let it show.
"May I lay here?" he asked, as if for permission from her. What King would ask a lioness for permission? Kings did whatever they wanted, heedless of everyone else's opinions. Yet, it felt good, how he treated her like an equal. She squashed the feeling and curtly nodded her head.
"Thank you. My paws are killing me." With sigh, he flopped beside her. His mane tickled her nose, and she sneezed. "Oh, sorry about that." He twisted around.
"Why aren't you by the commoner?" she said coldly.
The King raised his head and glanced about. "Who? Kilima? She's asleep." He yawned, exposing unimpressive fangs. "And I did want to talk with you."
She remained silent. Why would he want to talk with her?
"You've been... well, you weren't horrible, but you've been very distant," the King continued. "So I thought, might as well introduce each other." He paused, as if to see if she had reacted (she hadn't). " I am Heartgold."
"You don't even call yourself King Heartgold!" she laughed. "What kind of King are you? A proper King asserts dominance, rules the land, behaves-"
"Cruel," the King interjected calmly. "More often than not, they act cruel. My lady, I will not act as if I am better than you, because I am not. But you should not act as if you are better than me because I act in such a way. Here, we are equals. And I want to be kind, to you and Kilima. Please do not make it difficult. Now, again. I am Heartgold. What is your name, fair dame?"
She met his eyes, searching for a trick, a lie, a... a something, but found none. Taking in a deep breath, she solemnly replied, "My name is Coco."
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Coco is too absorbed in scratching at the ground to notice your presence.
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