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There were many reasons that Gunnar disliked Gaved.

The darker lion had always seemed like his father’s favorite. Gaved had always been stronger, bolder, and seemingly more clever. Gaved had always shared their father’s opinion of things, scorning female Reavers while Gunnar treated them with simple wariness. Even that had changed somewhat after Gunnar had gotten to know the reaver Zsaria better, and decided that he would be proud to fight at her side.

Speaking of females, Gaved had always had a way with them that Gunnar didn’t. Gunnar had managed to sire cubs, but that had been a truly mortifying experience. Gaved, Gunnar suspected, had sired many litters with all sorts of females. He just hadn’t bothered to bring any home. And why should he, when he was always out and about with the Stormborn females? He hadn’t taken one to wife yet, but Gunnar was gloomily sure that Gaved would choose the perfect wife and send Thorgrim and Runa—and even Lena—into bouts of ecstasy over his good fortune.

There was also the fact that Gaved was an a*****e.

“Brother,” Gunnar said somewhat irritably, frowning as Gaved approached him. Gunnar was relaxing outside of the dens, considering looking for some mint. Gaved was about the last person he wanted to see. What did he want now? To fight? To gloat over another accomplishment? Whatever it was, Gunnar didn’t care to hear about it.

“Someday I will kill you,” Gaved said cheerfully, strolling up to his brother. The mocking, toothy grin that accompanied the ritual words made them seem half-serious. Perhaps they were. He wouldn’t mind killing Gunnar, not really. It would be a tragedy, of course, but if it happened in the heat of battle—well, these things did happen. You couldn’t always distinguish friend from foe when you were crazed with bloodlust, especially not when the ‘friend’ was a foolish, flower-blooded ‘n** drunkard that consorted with fatties and girls.

“What are you doing out here, brother? Making a flower-chain for your bride Taraxa?” Gaved asked innocently. He flexed his claws, ready to slash at Gunnar if his brother attacked. Most other Stormborn would have raged at the offense, but Gaved wouldn’t be surprised if Gunnar just remained flopped there like the apathetic wimp he was.

Gunnar narrowed his eyes, growling at Gaved. He rose to his feet stiffly, lashing his tail. He knew that no Stormborn could take that kind of insult lying down, but he also knew Gaved was trying to bait him into a fight that he would lose. He faced an unpleasant choice: ignore Gaved’s taunts and have to listen to him crow all over the pride about Gunnar having flowers in the blood, or get his a** kicked by his ******** off.” Gunnar snarled.

Maybe it wasn’t the most eloquent response, or the most in keeping with ritual, but it would do.

So his brother had a bit of a backbone today after all! Gaved laughed, flexing his claws again. Gunnar hadn’t gone for his throat yet, but it was surely only a matter of time. He sneered at his brother. Ever since they were cubs, it was so easy to push Gunnar’s buttons—and so easy to beat him once Gunnar saw red and stopped thinking clearly. Gaved thought Gunnar had been acting a little too high-and-mighty for his tastes lately. Swanning around thinking he was the better brother, as though managing to hump some dimwit outlander and then being stupid enough to get saddled with her cubs was a great accomplishment.

“Or maybe Taraxa rejected you and you’re up here mooning after some other strong, handsome reaver male just like the rest of the reaver girls. Is that it Gunnhilda? Do you want me to braid some flowers into your pretty little mane?” Gaved leaned towards Gunnar, plastering his muzzle with a look of false concern. The taunts were juvenile at best, but Gaved thought one never grew too old to enjoy a bit of bullying.

Gunnar was indeed seeing red. He opened his mouth and snapped it shut again, trying and failing to come up with a good response. All he could come out with was a sputtering noise of pure incoherent rage.

Hating himself for rising to Gaved’s bait but unable to bear the thought of Gaved tattling to Thorgrim about his weakness, Gunnar sprang for Gaved’s throat. He had been baited into fighting many, many times over the years, and wasn’t surprised when Gaved’s razor-sharp claws struck into him instantly. Steeling himself against the pain, Gunnar snapped at Gaved’s throat, seeking a hold through the thick mane that protected his a*****e brother from his righteous wrath.

Finally the girl was showing some kind of fighting spirit. Gaved lashed out without hesitation, his claws scoring deep gashes along Gunnar’s cheeks and shoulders. Then Gunnar had bowled him over, his jaws snapping uncomfortably close to Gaved’s neck. So little brother had been doing some reaver training, eh? “You can’t bite through my mane, stupid!” Gaved howled, trying to squirm away from Gunnar’s teeth. “That’s what you get for training with the other girls!” Gaved maneuvered enough room to whip his head around and bite Gunnar hard on the arm. He brought his back legs up to kick at Gunnar’s underbelly, wishing belatedly that he had sharpened his hindclaws as thoroughly as his foreclaws. It would be so satisfying to rip his stupid brother open and see if he did indeed have flowers for blood.

Gaved’s hindclaws were more than sharp enough to hurt as they raked his belly. Roaring from the pain in his arm, Gunnar tried to scramble aside and off of Gaved. If Gaved kept kicking at his underside like that, he might make Gunnar a girl in truth. Getting away from Gaved’s horrible kicks, Gunnar tried to swat Gaved from his arm and failed. The damned lion was hanging on like a crocodile. In desperation, Gunnar twisted his head and chomped down on Gaved’s ear. It was the only part of Gaved he could reach that wasn’t covered in mane.

The pain from Gunnar’s teeth sinking into Gaved’s ear made the dark lion loosen his grip on Gunnar’s arm. Gods, that smarted! He roared, beginning to see red himself. When Gaved opened his jaws, Gunnar released his ear and sprang away, out of range. Gaved scrambled to his feet and glared at Gunnar, panting. For a moment he truly, truly wanted to finish the fight and murder Gunnar … but he forced the urge down. Thorgrim would think it a foolish waste of life if he killed his brother on pride lands.

Besides, he was fairly certain that Thorgrim had some kind of attachment to his worthless second son, even though Gunnar was clearly polluting their bloodline.

“I will kill you someday, Gunnar,” Gaved growled.

Gunnar bared his teeth at Gaved in response. Even though they seemed to have met a stalemate, he felt terribly tired and defeated for fighting Gaved in the first place. He knew his brother was an a*****e, but he couldn’t help but think that fighting with Gaved only made him worse.

Maybe Gaved would do the whole family a favor and get his skull crushed by a wildebeest while reaving.

“Someday the Gods themselves will kill you,” Gunnar rumbled.

Gaved snorted and deliberately turned his back on Gunnar. He didn’t fear his worthless brother. “They can try.” With that he began stalking back towards the dens. The scuffle had made him hungry, eager for some food and perhaps a willing female.

Once he was certain Gaved was gone, Gunnar made his way back to the stronghold as well. It shamed him to have to seek a healer after a fight that hadn’t even been a proper duel, but he was covered in claw marks and his arm throbbed where Gaved had bitten him. The next time Gaved challenged him, he wanted to be in shape to give the dark lion the thrashing of his life.