VoK Prompts

I(s) 3: What is this individual's relationship with their childhood? Do they look upon it fondly or resent it? Do they remember it at all? How did the way they were raised contribute to who they are now? Were there any bad habits that they have now that formed directly as a consequence to their childhood?
Word Count: 3250/3250 + 63
Earning: 1 silver feather

Everyone’s childhood shapes them into who they are. For some, their every wish is granted for them; their life is handed to them on a silver platter. Everyone knows what they become, though: selfish, entitled, bratty, the list goes on. Others may not be given everything, but they still won’t experience hardship. Their childhood was guarded, carefully filtered through rose - colored lenses so that they would never know pain or suffering. Again, though, we all know how that story ends: the rude awakening, the shock, the dependence, the weakness. The opposite of what their parents intended. How about this one: kind but poor parents, who believe in everyone pulling their share, working for what they want? The children will grow to respect effort and appreciate earned respect. They will be careful, diligent, hard working, and they will go far. The classic garage office - to - billionaire. So, what would you think about a child born into a situation of neglect and abuse? In which the sun never shined and there were no hugs, kisses, and rainbows? The child would go to drastic measures in an attempt to earn respect and attention, but would be met with indifference. What about a childhood like that? I know what you’re thinking: that’s why we have prisons, but what if this case were so extreme that the child in question shattered in a glorious inferno, fueled on by itself? Would the fire burn forever, or would the rain come, washing it away, and leaving a blank slate free to be rewritten with goodness? Perhaps Kuth’s life can shed some light on the issue...

-

Intukuthelo woke up to the normal ruckus of a cub fight. He opened one eye, saw through the twilight that it was just the twins again, and consequently knew he had at least another hour to sleep. Or so he thought. He had just rolled over and shoved enough other sleeping cubs aside to make a comfortable spot for himself when he heard the unmistakable warning growl that the border cubs always made when an adult was approaching. Someone was in trouble.
Still, Kuth didn’t bother to open his eyes. The last time he had seen his mother was probably four months ago at the yearly pride census supper, meaning he had at least another month before she came looking for him to make sure he was alive. How else would she get his food allotments from the king? It had been even longer since he had seen his father; gosh, was it really going on a year now? Surely he had found a new wife and pride to hurt by this point. 

Cubs growled and grumbled as the adult recklessly marched their way over their sleeping forms, and Kuth couldn’t help but think it odd that they hadn’t stopped yet. Still the grumbled and heavy footfalls got closer, and Kuth fidgeted but refused to give up any moment of precious shut - eye. Then, both sounds stopped. Kuth stilled, more relieved than apprehensive. But when the dull teeth clamped down on the scruff of his neck and he could smell the horrid, intoxicated breath, he knew who he had forgotten to consider: his grandmother.

Kuth growled and squirmed as he was yanked from the ground, but his grandmother made no response besides shaking him extra violently to stop his movement. Kuth kept a scowl on his face to hide his embarrassment and keep with what he thought of as his intimidating demeanor, but he still looked beyond the stretching carpet of cubs as to not meet any of the hundreds of eyes that he could feel on him. Even so, when he heard someone snicker as his grandmother stepped past, Kuth couldn’t help but bare his teeth at them.

As soon as they were beyond the hoard, Kuth started fighting his carrier’s grip again. “Put me down! Do you know how many cubs I’m going to have to pummel to fix my reputation after that? I said put me down! Could you not have at least sent Amadala to come for me after the cubs had scattered?” he grumbled. His older sister had the same superior mindset as his grandmother that drove Kuth nuts, but at least it wouldn’t have been near as humiliating. “I said put me down!” Kuth swung a paw up, claws extended, and hooked his grandmother’s jowl, but still she muttered no response, instead just shaking him until he was forced to release. 

Kuth, never one to give up a fight, keep up his growling and fighting as she marched him over the barren wasteland of the Kumoshekile pride’s territory. As far as Kuth was concerned, the pride’s cubs had always slept along the Ebulalayo Cliff boundary of the pride, as far from the adult’s main settlement as physically possible. For a reluctant cub, the journey could take all day, but for an out - of - patience grandmother as set in her ways as Kuth’s, the walk could, unfortunately, be accomplished in two hours and eleven minutes (yes, the cubs kept count). 

When the pair reached the edge of the Gorge, a steep valley carved by the pride’s only clean water source that also marked the division between the In- and Out-lands, Kuth’s grandmother finally dropped him to the ground (as violently as possible, of course), and uttered her first words of the trip, short but not sweet, as was her way: “Clean up. Main Road. One hour.” before stalking towards the bridge. 

Kuth rather liked his protective layer of filth (he had been building it for four months now, after all), but he would rather be appallingly clean and face humiliation as the claws of the other cubs than refuse his grandmother and suffer her consequences. The slope down was steep, the water was cold, and the walk to the steps back out and the main road on the other side was long, but Kuth accomplished it with exactly one minute, seven seconds to spare and without having to lose his scowl. His grandmother had never been as good at keeping time, though, and made sure to give him a hard kick in the rump to prove it.

Kuth’s scowl deepened (if that was even possible) as the hulking stone enclosures of the Main Town (they were very creative) came into view, silhouetted against the brightening sky. He was hardly a year old but he knew enough for a familiar dread to grip his heart and slow his steps even further, to which his grandmother responded by picking him back up again without warning. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he was kind of glad that he didn’t have his own feet to blame for entering the town, though.

It was just as he remembered it. Dens carved out of boulders situated however their owner saw fit. Lions stumbling around drunkenly although it was hardly morning. Two males tumbled around fighting tooth and claw while their weary wives chatted nearby. A shrieking newborn cub raced out of a shadowed den before a bloodied paw flashed out and snatched it back. A mangy, skin - and - bones male lied across their path on the brink of death, but Kuth’s grandmother simply stepped over its heaving, twisted form without a glance. Even worse were the hungry, sinister eyes that peered at Kuth and his grandmother from the shadows and around corners. Kuth’s fury burned hot and he yearned to blind each and every one of them. He growled and his muscles tensed like a cocked gun, but his grandmother just kept walking, cold eyes trained straight ahead. Kuth wished he could lay a claw on her, too; could she not see how humiliating this was?

After a walk that seemed much longer than it should have, his grandmother dropped him before the entryway to the Center Den - the king’s office. Kuth’s hot inner turmoil ran cold, and he realized he still didn’t know the purpose of this trip. He turned to question his grandmother, but she was already retreating through the twisted streets. Kuth weighed his options, but knew he had no choice. Replacing his scowl, he lowered his head and stalked through the shadowed entrance.

Once his eyes adjusted, he saw four forms: Amadala, slightly to his right, her face as unreadable as always but her eyes flicking rapidly over him. She hadn’t changed a bit. Next, he saw his mother, directly in front of him, wide eyes bloodshot and puffy, nose snotty and mouth agape, staring right at him. Cradled in each arm was a sniveling newborn. That was new. Kuth was appalled. Standing beside her (and practically on top of her) was a male closer to his sister’s age than his mother’s. He was clean and almost too put together, with a slicked back half mane. No doubt that was all he could grow. Something about him was revolting, and he had a dumb - but - cunning look to him. Wirey. Sleazy. He was new.

Then, Kuth saw the king, flopped over his throne as if some giants had tossed him and that was how he landed. He was uncomfortably flat and every part of him bulged, swollen as if he had been inflated. Foot speckled his matted mane and clumpy fur, and a line of brown drool oozed from his yellowed mawl. A corroded crown tangled from his misshapen ear. His glazed over eyes sat unmoving on Kuth, and he wondered for a second when was the last time anyone had checked to see if he was alive. A bubbling, wet fart answered Kuth’s question. Gosh, how he’d love to see that heap of a lion killed if anyone had the lack of self - respect required to touch it. 

Aw, and there was his most recent victim, (or assistant, if you prefer), scurrying into the room. This particular one looked as if she was always on the brink of crying, and her missing ear showed the reason for her rush.

“Gosh, aren’t you quite the odd group,” Kuth blurted, interrupting the heavy silence. He wished he sounded as intimidating as he hoped he looked. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

The stunned assistant lioness stammered to life, “Um, yes, of course, sorry your Majesty.” She shot a worried glance at the king, but of course he hadn’t moved. “It is, uh, the king’s duty to ensure that the dealings of the pride are fair and just,” Is that what he called his gluttony while the pride was stepping over starved bodies in the streets? “and, well, in the case of an absent guardian and a present illegal substitute-”

“Can you please cut to the chase, for all of our sake?” Kuth grumbled, ignoring the glare that the young male sent his way. Who did this guy think he was, anyway?

“Of course, sorry, your majesty.” Seriously, the king hadn’t even blinked. “Well, um, you see, missus, it says here that your husband has been absent from his duties for thirteen months,” Wow, time really does fly. “ including the mandatory census meal. As you know, with the current drought, there is a shortage of food,” Gosh, who could be blamed for that one? “and his Majesty has asked that all families without a male guardian be cut from the rationing.”

“Cut?” Kuth’s mother squeaked between silent sobs.

The assistant looked even closer to sobs herself. “I’m afraid so, I mean, sorry your Majesty, yes, missus. Effective immediately.”

“But, Ngobuqili here is my guardian, aren’t you darling?” Kuth swallowed the vomit that threatened to come out as the two exchanged a sloppy kiss.

“I’m sorry, I mean, I’m not sorry, sorry your Majesty, but this is not from our pride and was not present at the census meal. This means he does not qualify and as you should know his Majesty the king does not allow rations for refugees.” This was met by a guttural belch from the king. So he was breathing.

“Yeah, um, emotional assistant lady, why did you need me here? I have much better things to be doing than sitting in as a pawn for my mother to prove she has children,” Kuth glanced at the newborns in her arms, “excuse me, legitimate children.” He could feel the glares of his sister and mother’s boyfriend, but he had his own glares for them if they dared bother him.

“Right, I was just getting to that, sorry your Majesty. The king has proposed an offer-” This will be great. “the servanthood of your son in exchange for your rations.” Kuth’s anger flared brighter. Amadala offered no rejection. The sleazy male grinned devilishly.

His mother’s sobs halted, and she fell to her knees (dropping the infants), burbling, “Thank you so much, your great and powerful majesty, I will forever be in your debt, or, I mean, my son will forever be in your debt! Thank you, thank you, thank you...” her sobs returned.

The male, still smirking at Kuth with that evil glimmer added in a nasally voice like nails on a chalkboard to Kuth, “Yes, thank you, your great Majesty. I’m sure the boy with be more than happy to serve his fair and loving king for as long as you desire…”

Kuth exploded. With a roar he leapt from his place and landed on the guy’s insufferable face, claws extended and teeth bared. He made quick work of the guy’s smearing blue eyes and pricked ears, shredding his perfect face. Amadala got to him before he could afflict any life - threatening damage, but his anger was nowhere close to burnt out. Kuth twisted out of her grip, planting a slash on her chest, and leaping towards his confused mother - how dare she seem confused. He raged with a blinding fury, encouraged by the screams of his family. He didn’t care who his frenzy hurt: his opinionless sister, his selfish mother, the feeble assistant, the blob of a king; heck, if he could had planted his fangs in those doddering babies, he would have been glad to. If he was going to be kept a slave or exiled, it might as well be for good reason. Blood and fur were flying; Kuth’s growls and roars mixed with the shrieks and sobs into a horrible cacophony, and for once Kuth lost track but didn’t stop until everyone was either on the ground (in the case of his mother, Amadala, and the king) or escaped (the assistant and the sleazeball). 

Kuth stood, tensed legs spread, chest heaving, wild eyes darting around, waiting for. He felt strong. He felt in control. He felt free. He should have been calming down, but those around him had the audacity to look at him with resentment and even pity, as if he were the bad one. There was nothing left hurt on any of them - especially the king who had looked dead even before Kuth had broken his neck - but Kuth’s anger burned brighter than ever. He couldn’t stand still, but even in his madness he knew he had nowhere to go. Even messed up pride like this didn’t look kindly on king - killers and family - murderers. So, Kuth ran. He ran, fueled by his fury and encouraging it to burn, and never looked back.

-

His childhood had been cut short, ending long before he had run away. You could say it ended when his father left, or when Kuth chose to live with the cubs, or even on the day it all went down, but the truth is, it ended the day he was born. A plant cannot flourish when sowed in the shadows, likewise a child cannot succeed when they’re born into a world of evil and hardships. A child needs love, and Kuth found resentment. A child needs care, and he found a mother who couldn’t care for herself. His environment rewarded heartlessness and strong hatred, in which Kuth found the respect and independence he so desired. 

Most would say it was his mother’s fault, after all, she could never love another as much as she loved herself. Or, you could say it was his father’s fault because his absence lit the fuse that would end it all. Perhaps you could even blame it on that nameless fool with no respect and no understanding of the situation he was getting himself into, or his sister for nevering standing up for anything. But they met their own fates, and Kuth had to live with his.

As it turned out, this lion’s dark heart was coal under pressure, scorched in the heat of fury. He was a diamond in the rough.

This had been Kuth’s burden all his life. His truth. His secret. He kept it locked down far, far from his consciousness so that it could never hurt anyone, especially himself. Not even those closest to him knew the full extent of it. He had fought to escape it, to forget it for so long, and it fueled his fury even further. No matter how hard he tried to leave it behind, it was always one step behind him, waiting for him to falter, to remind him of his mistakes.

Kuth spent years fueled by his anger, letting his fury grow, driven mad by the injustice of his upbringing. He roamed far and wide, thinking his anger would bring him the same success it had given him in his birth pride, but was blind to the greater forces of love and loyalty that resisted him. He failed time and time again, and his fury only built. It carried him to the brink of death, and still he gripped to it, but looking back, God had other plans for him. As all his strength left him, both physically and mentally, Kuth found that he couldn’t even hold on to his anger. As it turned out, his grip on it - or, its grip on him - was never as tight as he had thought. As he lied there, though, he realized he had never been without it, so who would he be if it left him? He was afraid, but there was no anger left for him. This was a different kind of fear, not the kind that had led him to anger. In his childhood, fear kept him captive because he had no security. Anger was his only shelter. This new fear, though, was a fear of who he’d become and who he would die as. How could he die alone here, his life only amounting to anger, pain, suffering? So, with God’s help, he changed his ways, swearing off of unjust, violent anger, and replacing it with openness, because, after all, he had been wiped clean, empty and new with anger. This would let him absorb love and kindness and offer it in return, and this was something that offered true protection and hope. Once he became hooked on giving and receiving love, he was a changed lion.

In his old age, after he had lived a life to be proud of, he spent a lot of time reflecting, asking the hard questions, the Why’s and How’s. By the time this lion of legend passed on and with him the truth of his childhood, he had made peace with his past. He saw that without the horrible, endless anger, he wouldn’t have ever been freed of it. He reckoned with the truth that if he had not changed his own fate he was not any better off than his sister and grandmother, silently stuck in an unfair cycle that they were too afraid to leave. Perhaps he had even liberated his sister, and opened his mother’s eyes. Whatever the case, he knew that without the hardships of his childhood, he would never have become the fully good lion that he was meant to become, and because of that, he could be grateful for his past.