Salem

Lionesses were considered fearsome beasts by those who knew what they were capable of, and passive mothers by those who didn’t. Within the pride they were meant to protect and hunt, and suck up to the king, every so often putting him in his place.
Salem was the product of her pride’s most recent ruler, a heavily muscled and long-fanged smilus, known for his cruel claws and unwavering pride. Suffice to say, Salem had been more than pleased when the small dosages of poison slipped into his food had begun to act.
It was shortly thereafter where Aster died, a new ruler taking his place. They were more merciful, though no kinder.

“I know what you’ve done, young one.” They had hissed quietly in passing, the day they slaughtered Aster and took his place. Salem had felt the winds shift slightly, as if the heavens themself were displeased by her. She had spat on the ground, slinking away to sulk in her cave, pawing through barks and roots.
There was no proof of her misdeeds. What could Fruit do aside from glare and arch their back? She was unstoppable. While caught up in self congratulatory affirmations, the prideful lioness didn’t register the young king enter the cave. Not until they were on top of her, claws digging into the soft skin on her stomach.

“I may be ever so grateful for your assistance in securing my place as head of the pride. But do not think for a moment that I will ever be so foolish as to let you pull a similar ‘prank’ on me, kitten.” The last word was spit with distaste, Fruit’s misted eyes darkening with contempt.
Salem writhed, her lip curling back into a scowl.
“What do you want from me, oh grand and glorious king?” She mocked.

Fruit let their claws draw blood, bringing their face closer to hers. “What I want is you on my side, and I shall have it, too. The ancestors are most displeased with you, but I could negotiate a turn of their favor, if you becoming my secret. My sorcerer. My witch.”

A prideful purr spilled from Salem’s throat. “On one condition.”
Fruit tilted their head, grip still achingly painful.
“You belong to me as well.” She growled, running her tail cheekily along their face, knowing that the king could not say no. Not if they wanted to live.