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It had been some time since their confirmation ritual... and, as their manes grew in and adulthood approached, the young royal males of the pride were readying themselves for the first set of ritual duels that would decide the future kingship. For Drathir, that would be a momentous time, for he was driven and quite expected to win the round robin... and to challenge Iartuupe for a remark he'd likely forgotten. That goal burned in the prince's mind as he stared up at the sky, watching the rolling clouds and the gathering storms. There would a thunderstorm tonight, he was sure, for the heavens looked truly angry.

But he didn't fear them. Didn't fear Iartuupe and did not fear the burden that throne would place on his shoulders. He would prove he was capable, make his father proud and follow in the Aran'shale's footsteps - he was nearly there now, he felt, for Verge'lian had seemed pleased with his progress.

Nearly there... only the ritual and Iartuupe between him and his dreams. Not too much of an obstacle once the day arrived, he was sure. Work paid off, afterall.

Amin was feeling particularly energetic today, having broken away from his sibling that morning to go their seperate ways. He'd hunted a rabbit earlier, and now was in one of those exhilirating moods that made him feel as though he might tackle anything with ludicrous ease. Bright blue eyes espied his brother, one of the ones he actually got on with to a certain extent, and with a wicked grin, he bounded over, coming up alongside the red and gold male. "'ello, Drathir, how're you feeling today?" It was light, almost playful. Amin's confidence seeming to practically shine from him. He'd begged and wheedled a few more lessons out of his father (in a very dignified way, of course) and the silver-maned adolescent felt that it gave him a particular edge...surely now the throne was within his grasp...and he wanted to make his sire and brother proud, and naturally, to rub the victory in Nyota's face. Smug little blue b*****d.

Drathir glanced up as his brother addressed him, frowning slightly. "In the mood to duel. You seem rather energetic. Finally catch a rabbit?" He grinned, only half joking. He'd more or less mastered that art a while ago, had started to hunt much larger prey after that evening with his father.

Rising, the golden haired male shook out his mane and shrugged, "The ritual's looming. I intend to be ready." Squaring shoulders, he held his head high; he'd always been the most bold of the three, fearless and stubborn... it had been them who had discovered the labyrith, though it was he who had lead the charge. A small smile as he remembered that misadventure.

Amin laughed softly, "Oh it gave me a merry chase, but I caught it all right." Bantering back, he took none of it seriously. having too been hunting large prey for far too long to care about a simple jest concerning rabbits.

Tilting his head, silver mane-tuft sliding over one eye, he smirked faintly, "Oh I'm plenty ready." He replied easily, "I'm eager, in fact, I've been training to be prepared for that day." Perhaps just a little proud, was Amin, but he'd fought his way this far, he rather thought that he'd earned it. It was a trait he shared with his sire. Nudging the other with his shoulder, he winked, "I wish you luck though." All in good sport, after all.

"So confident." He nudged the other back, rumbling playfully. "Overconfidence will see you killed, brother. I too have been training... training since I was a cub. I've a mission, you see, and I will not fail." Drathir didn't return the good luck sentiment, didn't believe in it. Everything they did, everything they enjoyed was because they'd taken it for themselves. You earned your life, he'd come to realize from watching his kin and pridemates, luck had little to do with your personal strength. Reaching up, he half-heartedly smacked his brother's shoulder with large paw.

Amin watched the other for a long moment, and finally, he nodded. "You too are confident, brother mine..." He rumbled softly, "Saying that you will not fail proves it. I still factor in the possibility of failure, but I have taken steps to insure that I do not do so also. All of us striving for the thrones have, Drathir." He was serious, but he softened the words with a smile, a habit he'd learned from a very young age. With a growl, he took a step back, bunching hindquarters and pouncing his sibling. It was almost playful, not really intending to do any damage, but at the same time, desiring to keep the other on his toes.

"I cannot fail. If I did... my opportunity would be wasted and I would prove him right." He murmured, also serious. "Nearly there. I will follow in father's paw prints." Falling back as the other pounced him, Drathir kicked his forelimbs off the ground to meet Amin's attack and rumbled as he grappled his brother.

Amin eyed the other in a speculative fashion. "You cannot?" He felt somewhat bad, really, "And what if I succeed? What then, Drathir?" It was a serious question, not meant badly. They were brothers and rivals, true, but they did not have to be enemies. He would rather it not be so, in fact. "I daresay our sire believes I can succeed." After all, if he did not, why would he take time to train him? Verge was a creature of many duties, and surely that time spent was favor...surely so.

Drathir opened his mouth, though no sound came out as he heard the unspoken words, eyes narrowing. Pushing away, the young adult squared his shoulders, "You heard me. I will prove that I am worthy." Tail flicking irately, Drathir turned away. "You are not solely favoured. When was your last lesson? The last good thing father said of you?" Slightly challenging, it almost seemed like it would become a contest of 'who's better now!', a childhood game they would often partake in.

Stepping back a bit with something akin to a shrug, he nonchalantly voiced his reply. "Just last week. He and I went hunting and brought down a zebra stallion. He was teaching me how to seperate prey from a herd, and how to hunt more effectively in teams. He commended me, as I ended up making the kill." Naturally, Verge had allowed him to do so, but Amin didn't have to say that. Amin wanted to be the Aran'shale someday, and he was rather of the opinion that his sire was willing to help him get there, whether that be true or no. "He's given me other lessons as well..." Lessons that Amin had asked for, but that eventually Verge had given, quietly pleased that his son was showing interest.

"Mm." Expression darkened further and the lion shrugged, a shoulder, wandering off as self-depreciating thoughts whirled through his mind. Was he not good enough then? What did his emotional and clingy brother have that he didn't? ... was it because he did not rely on another of the pride so much as Amin did? He'd trained... sought the other, taught himself on many occasiona so as not to bother the Aran'shale... Watching his feet as he walked, he spread toes and made deep impressions in the soil, trying to reassure himself of his worthiness.

Well he hadn't meant to cause an expression like that. "Drathir...I...Good luck..." He called out softly, "I think you'll do just dandy..." The words trailed off, and he sighed. Wonderful, great, you've just depressed your brother. Turning tail, he loped off to find his 'twin'. He could quite seriously use some cheering up just about now. Mentally, he assured himself that Drathir would be all right, he was just...in a mood, yes, that was it.

A mood? Yes... you could call it a mood - if such a thing lasted from the time you were a cub to when you were nearly full grown. All his life he'd striven to be worth something, to prove his strength and ability as a devoted demon... sought to impress and make proud Verge'lian... and now... he wasn't so sure Verge even cared anymore. Thus... he had to find his father. Busy or not, the other would answer him... hopefully say that he was bound for the throne or at least encourage him strongly.