Nothing in the Universe

Chapter 2: Time and Wounds

Kneeling on his bed, Laval rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the textbook in front of him, one of the many piled around him.

He wished he could draw instead of reading the piles of books detailing Lion Tribe history, rules and traditions, but his meager materials were at Lo-Katar's house and after the fiasco this morning, Laval really didn't want to see anyone who had been in the room in case they'd ask.

Besides, he needed to study everything he could. After all, a perfect prince had to know his kingdom inside and out. He couldn't waste time over some frivolous doodles.

"This is the fourth textbook I've had to replace because of your doodling nature. (Sigh) But at least it keeps you out of my fur for a while. Lousy, ungrateful pest."

Laval wiped at the tears pooling in his eyes.

Why was everyone so kind to him? Why were they speaking to him as if there was nothing wrong with him? Why were they thanking him for things like eavesdropping and assuring him that things would be better?

They were wrong! The whole throne room should've dragged him out, thrown him down the stairs, and then beat him for what happened this morning! Leonitarus had done that to a few hyenas before. Heck, he'd even slapped Laval hard enough to knock him down the stairs.

'Maybe it's because the throne room isn't the manor.'

No.

Laval froze at that thought.

'Maybe it's because the elders aren't like the hyenas.'

"Shut up," Laval hissed, hands over his ears.

'Maybe because Lagravis isn't Leonitarus.'

"SHUT UP!!!!" Laval roared and threw the book right into Sir Punch-a-Lot's face. Grief and shock hit him for a few seconds before he scrambled off the floor, profusely apologizing to his workout dummy.

He needed to think, needed to talk to someone, but the only people that came to mind were Lion-O, Helena, and Scomper. But Lion-O was in Thundera and who knew where Helena and Scomper were.

Laval rested his head against the workout dummy's torso, hot and salty tears welling up in his eyes as he stared out his windows. The afternoon light blazed through, casting golden fingers upon the young prince.

Absentmindedly, he got up off the floor and scooped up a little cloth doll, gently tracing the doll's painted smile. Had his mother stitched it, hoping that her little child would keep it close as a sort of guardian against nightmares? A friend before he had one? A confidant, able to keep secrets from living ears?

And the wooden sword -- a safe version of the weapon he wielded now? An object designed to hone in and perfect his skills?

Perfection. That word had long been the one Laval had grasped for, but remained unable to attain. And yet it had just been handed to him like a reward for life by his biological family. It was something undeserved for such a waste of space like him.

"You deserve life, Laval."

The young Lion froze, the sword slipping from his fingers with a clunk.

He hadn't heard that voice in a long time.

"S-Stop it," he muttered, wishing the memories back.

"You deserve to climb every mountain, every chance to explore, and every chance to chase your dreams."

"Stop it!" Laval cried, hands over his ears as salty waves pooled in his eyes. Anything to block out her voice.

"Laval, you're not weak. You're selfless and kind and bold and I know that you will do great things one day. You are meant to be out there."

"Leave me alone!" Laval cried, legs collapsing beneath him. He raked his claws against his arms and wrists, desperate to push back the painful memories. Of soft hands and blue eyes and warm hugs and laughter and a white nightgown and blood, so much blood.......

"Laval, you deserve to be loved. You know that, don't you?"

"HANNAH!!!!!" Laval finally cried as he curled up into a ball, rivers of crimson traced on his arms, fingerprints of a ghost.

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Laval blinked open his eyes.

Sunset poured in from the windows. Dried blood caked on his arms. Tearstained cheeks.

'Nice going. Your pity party and nap took away all the time you needed to be that perfect prince. Now you have more work to do.'

Getting up, Laval headed for the bathroom. Maybe a warm bath would do the trick of cleaning not only his wounds, but clearing his mind.

"Surprise! I made you a bubble bath with one of those bath bombs you love, Laval. Now you hop in while I go get your boat and rubber duck. Sound good?"

Remembering the toy boat on the floor of his room, Laval paused before continuing, shaking his head to clear the memories.

After all, he was a prince. A fully grown one, not some innocent little child who needed toys and bubbles.

"Your highness?"

Laval jumped a good ten feet before realizing who was speaking. He glanced at the brown-maned Lion with a lighter brown goatee. His mind raced for a second before remembering. "Yes, Lennox?"

He could almost hear Leonitarus giving a "hmph" of approval at his formality.

"Are you alright? Your father sent me up to check in on you and--" Lennox's eyes widened. "What happened?!"

"I'm fine." Surprising himself with his coldness, Laval straightened up. "It's not a big deal."

"But it is," Lennox insisted. "Let's get you cleaned up." As he took Laval by the hand, he glanced at his wrists, the unspoken question asked.

"I'm fine." That lie sat so familiar on Laval's tongue, it might as well have been truth. After all, hadn't he said that for years when others noticed bruises from Leonitarus? Or asked him about his mind after--

"That should do it."

Laval blinked, realizing that Lennox had finished bandaging his arms. He swung them around, testing them before nodding in approval. "That was fast."

"As does most everything I do in regards to the crown." Lennox flourily bowed. "Is there anything I may fetch for my prince?"

'My innocence. Maybe a childhood. Perfection.'

But the words that came tumbling out were, "No, but thank you." So formal. So polite. So princely. Just what they needed to see. No weakness.

Not the truth. Just another of the many doors he shut to guard his broken heart.

As Lennox bowed again and left, Laval rested his arms on the window, watching the setting sun. The oranges and reds and golds lit up the sky in a fabulous glow like vibrant colors on a canvas; ones he'd painted before.

It wouldn't be hard to get supplies. And as the Lion Prince, those supplies could be brought with half the time it took for "Levi" to get supplies.

Laval pinched himself. Hard. "A prince has no time for art."

And so he sat back down on his bed and picked up his book, picking up right where he left off in his studies.

Just like a proper prince would do.