1 | The Beginning

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Ruler
of
B E A S T S
Theladyandthefox

1

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The Beginning

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"Tell me about my father, ma."

The boy was ten, and they were gathered around the fire, their shoulders heavied with thick bear fur.

He'd always walked alone with his ma. When they traveled in the snow searching for a home, they were on their own. When they joined their tribe in the greatest mountains of the Kingdom of Svėna, there was no one to welcome them.

He would see kids carried on the backs of their fathers, men hunting along with their kids. But the boy never saw his papa and he asked his ma about him every year on his day of birth, lest she reveals something about him.

But his ma was silent, and the only sound he could hear was the sound of fire and watch its flames swallow the pieces of wood she had added.

It was cold, and even now he could remember the strong wind that bit at his chappened pale hands. He gazed up at his mother's eyes. They were a striking blue, so clear they matched the Svėnian waters.

Her looks screamed Svėnian. With her narrow upturned eyes, the very high cheekbones, the bronze skin, the pale white hair that the northerners are famous for. He'd only earned her strong built, the width of her shoulders and her unusual height.

He was very tall for a boy of ten, and it didn't bother him really. Svėnian men were known for their great height and muscular built, but it was his looks was what he stressed about.

His hair was dark, and his eyes were darker. They were framed by dark bushy brows–strikingly noticeable compared to the non-existent brows of the Svėnians. His skin was pale, and his face was long and didn't have the usual wideness the Svėnians were know for.

He felt like an outsider. He would gaze at the blonde children with pretty bronze skin and he would ask them to play, but they would call him beast boy, and poke fun of his dark eyes and hair.

So he befriended the tigers first, and the tigers befriended him back.

He was playing in the snow by himself. It was freezing, but he didn't care.

His ma went to hunt with the elders and he was left in their fort to boredom.

So he waited for the elders to leave, and for the mothers to close their forts. When the lights dimmed, and the fires were put out, he welcomed himself into the darkness' embrace.

He didn't take much with him. Only his little satchel bag with his food in it. He bent down and grabbed a rock, lest something pounced at him.

He ran, then jogged then walked. Which each step he made, his confidence grew. He was no longer afraid of the darkness. The darkness became him.

So he stood in front of a cliff, a dark valley of evergreen trees staring back at him. Some trees stood out more than others- not because of their striking color or gracious leaves- but their empty haunting branches, and he couldn't help but associate them with himself.

He was as much as a loner as they were.

The boy slumped his shoulders and gazed at the emptiness ahead of him for a while.

Then he heard a branch snap. Then two. Then three. Then he turned and saw two little white tigers. Animals like them were hunted in their tribe and skinned and sold for their expensive fur. But he didn't kill them. Instead, he searched for his satchel and threw his dinner at them. Two fish, mildly seasoned. But they were still fish, and the tigers ate them anyway.

Then they approached him.

They circled him quietly and he froze, afraid.

Would he be saved if he screamed?

Would anyone care if he cried for help?

Would anyone find him if he leapt into the valleys' arms?

He squared his shoulders instead and gazed back into the tigers' light azure eyes. Even the tigers have Svėnian eyes, he scoffed.

The tigers sniffed him, and he had the urge to stroke their fur and run his pale long fingers through them.

The next thing he knew, they were rubbing themselves against him, and he laughed, remembering the words of the tribes' leader upon seeing the kids make fun of him.

'Beast boy,' he called and beckoned him to come closer.
'I'm no beast boy!' He crossed his arms in hope he seems tougher. He knew he couldn't hide the hurt expression on his face.
'It's not always a bad thing, boy.' The man approached him steadily and patted him on the shoulder. He was almost bald with his yellow white hair and his icy blue eyes stared back at him in determination. 

'Beasts are often strong creatures.'

'They're battled and feared!' The boy protested. They're cruel. They're villains. And he was seen as one.

'They're misunderstood.'The man merely corrected. 'And that doesn't mean they are bad.'

'But the others..they t-treat me as so.' He didn't like how weak he sounded. How his voice broke. How his gaze avoided the man's.

'Rule number one, boy.' The man's grip tightened around his shoulder, but he refused to show weakness.

'Strong men never seek people's approval.' His grip further tightened and he winced, yet his gaze remained frigid.

'You're not weak, boy.' The man had said, as if reading his mind. 'Men often fear what they aren't familiar with. Men fear what they can't control. They fear the powerful. Beasts aren't bad. They're simply misunderstood."

Of course these tigers were beasts, he thought. Were they misunderstood too? Maybe that's why they were hunted.

The next day, he sat on the snow, facing the darkness of the valley.

Then he heard a branch snap. Then two. Then three.

When he glanced back, they were three little tigers approaching him.

He smiled. He has friends now, and this time he had four fish in his satchel.

The tigers ate the fish. Then they curled around him and slept.

He knew his ma would yell at him when she would find out his little secret. She would call him a fool for venturing outside his tribe's borders. He could already imagine her angry icy stare, her wild blonde hair striking against her bronze skin. But the boy didn't care.

The boy had friends now.


A little beginning for Maximus' story!
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Love you all ❤️
–theladyandthefox

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