The Regency - Chapter I [Thundercats 2011]
It was a dark and somber evening when Lynxana, a tall woman sitting on the Royal Council, knocked on Tygra's door with the draft of a new act of the Royal Council in her hands.
Tygra read it silently at his desk, and then sat back, numb. The incessant drumming of an early spring storm filled his ears. He slowly sank forward and buried his fingers in his hair. He didn't know how long he stayed in that position.
Tygra was roused out of his brooding by a short bang bang on his bed chamber door, the only prelude to the sudden and loud entrance of a young teen in the throes of distress over the unfairness of adults.
"Tygra!" Lion-O practically howled, marching straight across the room to stand paws akimbo at his brother's desk, "they won't let me in to see Father!"
Tygra didn't move. If Lion-O thought his brother's slumped over position would be an indicator of a gentle response, he was sadly mistaken. "He's sick, you little idiot," Tygra snapped, baring his teeth at his desk. "You know that."
"I don't care!" Lion-O wailed, not in the least put off by Tygra's brusque response. "I haven't seen him in ages and Lynx-O got to see him almost two days ago and I want to see him and it's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair."
Lion-O ignored this remark utterly. "Make them let me in!" he persisted.
"I can't. I'm not in charge here," Tygra snarled. The words left him with a sudden ache.
"But Bobcat's the senior guardsman at Father's door and he always does what you say--"
"We can't go in to see Father because we might catch the sickness. Do you want to end up like Jaga?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Tygra regretted them.
Lion-O fell silent.
After a few moments, Tygra lifted his head and turned in his chair to face his brother. Lion-O's eyes were wide and glistening; he looked as if Tygra had sucker punched him. Tygra opened his mouth, meaning to say something, to say anything, to take it back, maybe, but no words formed. So he closed it again.
Fortunately, Lion-O bounced back relatively quickly for such a low blow. He blinked several times and let his arms dangle at his sides. "What are you doing?" he asked, almost conversationally.
Tygra slapped a hand down over the short stack of papers so Lion-O couldn't read it. "Nothing," he said, terse.
"You looked kinda depressed when I came in," Lion-O observed. "Is something wrong?
Tygra sighed through his nose and turned away from his brother. "Nothing is wrong." When Lion-O said nothing else for several moments, Tygra added, "Lion-O. Go away."
"Is it Father?" Lion-O persisted, "is it something to do with Father?"
"No." That was a lie. It had everything to do with Father, in all the worst ways. Tygra was almost overcome with a sudden wave of loathing for the Royal Council. They were always doing things like this, meeting behind Father's back and trying to make decisions without him. They hated the monarchy and wanted it abolished; they were all just a bunch of two-faced, usurping, anti-royalist--
"What does 'minority' mean?"
Tygra used his other hand to finish covering up the act on his desk and shot a dark scowl at his brother. Lion-O had somehow managed to inch forward without Tygra noticing and was attempting to read the act over his shoulder. "Mind your own business," he snapped.
Lion-O displayed a rare shroud of wisdom and backed off. He wandered over to Tygra's bed and flopped down on it, bouncing. "I'm tired," he announced, back to that false conversational tone.
Tygra relaxed his arms and let them fall away from the papers. He was once more accosted by the large, bold letters at the top of the first page: IN LIGHT OF THE KING'S ILLNESS AND MINORITY OF HEIR TO THE CROWN. He flipped the paper over so it was blank side up. "Then go to bed," Tygra growled, "in your own room."
"I don't want to."
"Why not?"
Lion-O paused once more. "People are standing outside again," he explained at last, his voice brittle and low.
Tygra understood. Whenever a king falls ill, there's always a minority of people who immediately think he's going to die; the princes were used to that. But their father had been bedridden for almost five weeks, and his sorcerer, the greatest wizard Thundera had ever known, had just fallen to the disease. The populace had assumed accordingly, and lately had been showing up at night in the palace's spacious courtyard with lit candles to stand vigil for their king. Not even driving rain could keep them away, it seemed. Lion-O's room afforded an excellent view of the courtyard, so of course, he had an excellent view of the mourners. Tygra couldn't blame him for being uncomfortable with it. It's hard to sleep with a glowing reminder of your father's impending death standing outside your window.
Nevertheless, Tygra had problems of his own sitting on his desk and didn't need Lion-O sticking his nose into them. "Just close your curtains," he grumbled.
"They're still there."
"So?" Tygra scoffed. "Ignore them! They aren't hurting anything."
Lion-O said nothing.
In something like desperation, Tygra resorted to a tactic that had never failed him before. "You're scared of them, aren't you," he taunted.
Lion-O sat up and frowned. "I am not."
"You are, too. Bet you're too scared to go back to your room with a bunch of people staring up at your window."
"Shut up! I'm not scared."
"What a little scaredy-cat." Tygra tipped his face to the side and affected the same tone of voice he had heard mothers use on their infants. "Do the scary candles wake the poor baby up?"
"Shut up!" Lion-O repeated, on his feet in an instant.
Tygra smirked slightly. It was amusingly easy to make Lion-O angry.
"I'm not scared," Lion-O continued, preparing a rejoinder of his own, "I'm the heir to the kingdom of Thundera!"
Tygra's smirk vanished. He stood just as abruptly as Lion-O had. "Get out."
Lion-O took a step back -- not out of cowardice, but to drop into a fighting stance.
Tygra wasn't in the mood for another tussle with his irritating little brother. He lurched forward, grabbed Lion-O's arm, and yanked him forward. In the brief moment where Lion-O was off-balance, Tygra began dragging him to the door. "I said," he snarled, throwing the door open, "get out!" He shoved his brother into the corridor.
Lion-O stumbled but did not fall. He turned and opened his mouth, clearly determined to continue the fight, but Tygra interrupted him. "See that I'm not disturbed again," he snapped to the guardsman standing at his door. Then he slammed the door shut. He ignored Lion-O's muffled protests and marched back to his desk, dusting his hands off.
The papers on his desk had been knocked askew by the displaced air of his door opening and closing so quickly; the first page was on the floor, its title just as loud and unforgiving as the first time he'd read it.
Tygra bent and picked it up gingerly. He brought it back to his desk and shuffled the papers back into order. Then he set them down carefully. After a minute, he heaved a deep sigh and collapsed on his bed.
Tygra had never doubted that he would make a better king than Lion-O; that fact had been painfully clear to the kingdom at large before Lion-O had reached his tenth year. But the Royal Council weren't asking him to be better than Lion-O; they were asking him to be as good as Claudus. That was impossible.
Rationally, Tygra knew that if he did not accept the office of Regent, somebody else would; he knew this the same way he knew that his father was dying and that if the clerics and the court physicians could not save Jaga, they would not be able to save the king. He knew that he needed to make a decision based on what was best for the kingdom and Lion-O, rather than what was best for himself. Come on, Tygra, he thought sourly. You're almost an adult. Time to start making some adult decisions. Tygra was not an indecisive cat by nature, but just then he'd have given anything for his father's or Jaga's advice.
He turned his head and looked at his desk again. The papers were almost invisible from this angle, but he could place their exact location without needing to see. In Light of the King's Illness and Minority of Heir to the Crown.
He closed his eyes. He didn't know what to do.
Did he have it in him to be Regent of Thundera?