Never forget who you are.
The words rang in his head, both taunting him and placating him as he tried to sleep. Somewhere, close by, a guard's raised voice caught his attention, drawing him out of his semi-sleep to where the pinch of cold nipped at his nose and eyes and numbed the tips of his ears. The days were hot and stuffy and dusty with the lions crammed into the mines, digging until their paws bled and they went lame from the effort. And then the night crawled in, bringing a chill that sank between his ribs and put an ache in his lungs. Some druids chose to huddle together but Merari preferred to sleep in isolation.
It wasn't that he had anything against them. In fact he considered those lions - or most of them, anyway - to be his kin. It was just that he spent every waking moment with them and this was the only time he got to himself. Besides, if he had stuck close to his brethren, Morgana might not have come to meet with him on those occasions.
The second meeting between the pair of them had been far more interesting than the first, of course. He admired her, looked up to her, and would consider her the unofficial queen of the druids for as long as she battled against the Toka who would keep them in bondage. She had the brains and, as she had said, he had the brawn. They would have some mighty fine children someday. And it was that thought - that not all hope was lost - that gave him most comfort and warmth on these cold and lonely nights.
The guard was still yelling but Merari laid down his head and closed his eyes again, seeking rest, seeking to forget the pains of his tired body. And he truly was tired. He was not as young as he was had been and multiple stints in the prison was beginning to take its toll. His first time had been shortly after hitting adolescence. He and his partner in crime had been found guilty of taunting a Toka's litter of spoiled brats. They were thrown in prison immediately. They got in trouble again, shortly after their release, and that would be his friend's final visit to the prison.
He had been executed. Merari had lived to see another day. Another day of freedom. Another day of imprisonment. Merari's mouth would always see to it that he ended up here one way or another. Even knowing that one day he would be given death over jail time, it didn't quiet his tongue or convert him into a better lion.
And why?
Because Merari was a stupid oaf. Because he acted before he thought. Because he was angry and volatile.
Because of those words.
Never forget who you are.
If he complied. If he fell into line. If he behaved as the Toka wished him too and submitted to them, what would he have left? He'd still be a druid? Still be looked down on. Except that he would be a druid without pride and honour. A druid who had no hope, no joy, nothing to look forward to at all. And then he would forget who he was and he might as well have been dead.
He couldn't even remember who had said that to him now. His dear old grandmother? Or his own parents? Or maybe his older brother? Maybe all of them. Did it matter? His family had all died fighting against the Toka's thievery and if he just rolled belly-up and told them that he would comply, it would be like spitting on their graves, soiling their memory.
So yes, Merari was a thoughtless brute, but he was also loyal. Some might say that it was a stupid, weak trait. Especially when loyalty meant putting himself in the firing line. But Merari did not care. He was a druid and if he died battling the Toka it meant that he had died a martyr, just like his family.
Movement distracted him from sleep again, forcing him to open his eyes and crane his head back. He almost dared to hope it was Morgana again - come for a repeat performance perhaps (he could hardly blame her) - knowing that it wouldn't be. It was the wrong direction. The wrong time. And the guards were still harassing some of the druids trying to sleep. He wondered, again, if the first part of the plan was done or whether he might have failed in that, too.
He'd had a lot of failure in his life, after all.
He peered into the darkness with sleep-bleared eyes and, after a long moment, settled once more, stretching out his legs to help ease the stressed muscles.
His journey was certainly a misbegotten one. No one could deny that. It had gone wrong at almost every turn and yet, somehow, he couldn't help but feel that it would brighten very soon. That maybe, because of Morgana, his life was about to strike with luck.
And tomorrow was another day.
Tomorrow he might be free of this place. Tomorrow he might wake to hear of Morgana's pregnancy through gossip. Tomorrow he might break free of the prison and run rampaging through the lands, taking out his vengeance on all those who had wronged him.
Or maybe he'd just be digging up jewels from druid earth and attempting to groom bleeding paws. Maybe the guards would yell and then laugh at him and kick stones down from their great heights to injure him.
He snorted softly at the thought and wondered whether anything would really change. Nothing had before now and Morgana was just one lioness against many. Well, two, now, since she had his backing. And cubs or not, there was no quick fix for this. They could start off a process that they would never see through to fruiting. Perhaps they simply needed to guide the younger generation to ensure that younger members didn't just grow to accept because they did not know the wrongs of their ancestors.
And with that thought, the lion drifted off into a fitful sleep, tormented by the faces of his ancestors who kept reminding him not to forget. To never forget.
/fin
