Runa had been happy with Thorgrim. He was strong, powerful, and respected. Feared, even, by many of the weaker lions in the pride. And her brave captain had the ear of the Warlord, a fact that would give any lioness reason to brag about her mate.
Their relationship was even better with Lena there. Ever since they were cubs, Runa had despised the simpering little b***h. Runa knew that Lena moped and moaned about having to share Thorgrim’s affections and lusts with Runa. Runa herself was indifferent to anything Thorgrim might do with other lionesses. That was simply what males did. She found it a bit distasteful herself, but Thorgrim’s conquests brought him respect from the other captains and reavers, and that pleased her. Runa didn’t know why her otherwise intelligent captain wanted to spend some nights with Lena (the paler lioness probably offered about the same level of excitement as humping a damp rag), but she wouldn’t fault him for it. She was actually rather pleased by Thorgrim’s divided affections for her and Lena. It made Lena bawl when Thorgrim returned to her, which was delightful. It also damaged Lena’s already-withered self esteem to the point where she was willing to slave for Runa like a thrall, and that made Runa even happier. There was nothing nicer than relaxing in a clean den while your half-witted sister scrubbed floors until she exhausted herself.
Oh wait, there was something nicer. Being able to greet Thorgrim perfectly clean and groomed and ready for romance, while Lena stood there dumbly, her fur mussed and dirtied from cleaning all day. That was nicer.
And then Thorgrim had the poor sense to argue with Gunne and storm off. Well. Runa wasn’t interested. She was very happy with her life in the stronghold, and not at all interested in going to live in some Godsforsaken outpost with Thorgrim and Lena. The very idea was nightmarish. Her status would be gone, for who would admire her save any thralls they picked up? She would likely have to work just as hard as Lena. She might be forced to catch her own food. Runa liked killing, but her few attempts at hunting had ended in frustration. No, Runa would not go. She would not go off and live in the middle of nowhere, with no one to talk to but Lena and none of the creature comforts that she deserved.
It was too bad that Thorgrim had such a lapse of judgment, but Runa wasn’t one to dwell or wallow in regrets. She was still young, and she was still beautiful. Her blood was pure and her markings were stark and exotic. Runa was confident that she would find a new mate soon enough, one that would assure her a high position in the pride. She was thinking about trying to move on Gunne himself when the silly lion had the nerve to get himself slaughtered by Aesir and throw all her plans into disarray.
Runa hadn’t been able to find a replacement husband yet. None of the males she had spent time with were suitable—and despite her lack of interest in politics, Runa didn’t care for the idea of mating with a former outlander. Who knew what kind of blood ran in their veins? Lena and her children were living proof that even old Stormborn lines could throw up culls now and then. Oh, her nephew Gunnar might huff and puff about being a great reaver, but Runa knew he preferred lolling around in flowery meadows chewing mint with those slutty reavergirls to doing an honest day’s viking. No, Runa couldn’t stand the thought of giving birth to such a failure. She didn’t especially want more cubs, but she knew that any sensible new husband would demand them. She would not bear cubs for someone of an untried bloodline.
Aesir himself, of course, was desirable for his position even though he was an outlander. Runa would have gone after him if the priestess hadn’t stepped in to claim him first. Runa wasn’t about to pit herself against a priestess, and her interest waned even more when Aesir brought home another outlander and a tangle of viking-born cubs. Runa wouldn’t have stepped into the middle of that brewing catfight for anything. She had briefly considered taking up with one of his true-born sons, but Aesir didn’t appear to favor them overly much. Besides, most of the bastards had taken up residence in the woods. The woods. If Aesir forced his own blood to live in the woods, she doubted if he would treat one of his son’s mates with the honor she deserved.
Thorgrim’s brother Erling would have been a suitable match, with good blood and high rank, but the lion appeared to have little interest in her. Runa had tried her charms on him, but Erling was a stone. He knew she wasn’t one of the mild, agreeable females he would prefer for a mate, and he showed no interest at all in becoming a lover. Still doting on his wife’s long-rotted corpse, probably. After a few fruitless flirtations, Runa had thrown up her paws in disgust and moved on. Of the remaining captains, some were outlanders, some had mates, and one was the surely-inferior get of Lena’s foolish son Gunnar. Nothing useful there.
Erling’s friend Voldemaras was a handsome specimen, imposing and certainly possessed of good blood, but he was a reaver. A well-known, respected and accomplished reaver, but a reaver nonetheless. Runa could never bring herself to chase after someone that might take orders from an outlander cub like the new captain Ru. The same went for that handsome lawspeaker Tuomas, who was barely a male for all his mane.
Pickings seemed slim, but she wasn’t too fussed. She would just bide her time and wait for the perfect male to come along. She might have to unbend herself enough to try for an outlander male (like Uhtred, perhaps), but Runa wasn’t in a hurry. The clever lioness was still respected for being Thorgrim’s mate, even after he had left the pride in a huff. She had little fear of being overlooked or taken advantage of, not with her fierce and wonderful son Gaved amongst the reavers.
WC: 1040
