The meeting with Ataxia had left a sour taste in Salvia’s mouth. She was distinctly aware of the drives of instinct; destroy the threats and ensure her own place would not be threatened. Yet the pack law would not allow her to fall back into such primeval behavior. She had to protect her family, regardless of whether or not she desired otherwise. Perhaps, she reflected, it would be better to simply lead the children into following her. Pandemic had fallen in line. The others could too.
Pale feet carried her through the forest, moving with the fast pace that spoke of agitation. Her retracted claws left her steps silent, though she walked differently than most wolves. Canines, in particular, gripped the earth and tore it up behind them. Her step was made with wide-splayed toes and weight balanced in such a way there was scarcely a track left behind. Yet her body was tense and her ears back, blonde hair loose and flowing. She wore the woven belt and its accessories on broadening hips, though they were hardly wide enough to speak of motherhood, as her mother’s did. She was growing into her body though, and it was apparent.
Alone, she stalked through the underbrush and moved without purpose. Aggression carried her and made her thoughts turn disjointed, irritable.
The bird had taken to following him. It was old enough now that he did not need to carry it, but still young enough that it was a foolish thing and quick to get underfoot. Sirius had named it Noble, for it was - Or, it would be, when the soft downy fuzz that coated its body now was replaced by the glossy feathers of adulthood. He fed it tiny chunks of raw meat, and of late, it had taken to catching small bugs and lizards. Soon it would be independent of his care.
Sirius blocked the doorway to his chamber with a plank of wood he had salved some time prior, fencing the avian in. It was safer within the confines of the throne-room, and the King only allowed it out when he had the desire to watch it. Alone, as he was prone to being so often of late, the monarch moved amongst the crumbling ruins. He was little more than a shadow, slipping unseen through the skeletal rubble.
The forest welcomed him. It was a harsh wilderness, unlike the tamed lands further west - Gnarled trees with grasping fingers, spindly clumps of thistle and bracken and fern; beautifully terrible, just like the King himself. He felt the blood of the land pulse beneath his feet, and the desire to release the Hunter was so intense that it rose as a physical demand, almost like the urge to breath. A track wafted up from the soil; A scent he knew, barely there amongst the crumbled earth. The trail of passing was concealed perfectly, with barely a print to mark its presence. Accepting the challenge with unearthly glee, the Thistle King began to stalk.
He recognized at once the pattern of movement, for much of her mannerisms had been taught to her by himself. Within his mind, Sirius fashioned an image of his prey. The Hunter prowled in silence, but unlike the girl who walked as a cat, his wicked claws raked indents into the earth.
It was not long before the Hunter found her. He scented her irritability and the strange mixture of hormones that surrounded her so often of late, and had only a moment to conceal the predatory gleam to his eyes before he emerged into sight. Sirius stepped from the shadows as a civil man, but beneath volatile acid lingered the Hunter, the beast that hungered always. "Salvia, my dear," His smile was sharp and wicked, welcoming her presence with a genuineness that was found only sparingly.
The ongoing changes of her body were confusing; her emotions rose and fell like the tide. One morning she would be content, happy—hours later she would fall into fits of fury like those of the tiger she carried within. Salvia wished to speak to her mother about these things, but her mother was often so busy these days. Besides, she did not want to see the puppies. They grated against her easy, familiar life. Change was to be resisted. It was unwelcomed and unwanted. Salsola was simple.
Yet it was savage and chaotic too. Salvia stiffened, sensing the eyes upon her. She turned with her ears high and her eyes gleaming, but the man that came through the shadows of the autumn forest was familiar. Gracefully, she lowered her head and body, knees bending slightly in order to diminish her height from him. There was protocol to follow, and she did so with no resistance.
“Uncle,” she greeted him without formality and rose. Even now she sensed the danger within the man before her. Two apex predators could share a space, prey, and even a home but he would always be met with trepidation. Green eyes flicked up to his chin, but dared not rise higher. Behind her, a dark tipped tail lashed once and settled. While she tried to control her emotions, they revealed themselves even now.
Of all that the coupling between Eris and Larkspur had produced, Salvia was the most valuable. In a way, Sirius had claimed her - From the day that she had first demanded to be taught, as he taught her mother, the King had known her to be special. Her eyes held the same predatory gleam as his own; She would be the Huntress, perhaps the only creature he knew that would some day rival his own dark-blessed skills. The shadows would crown her, as they had crowned him. For now, though, Salvia belonged to him, for he was greater, greatest. He had trained her, much as she had trained Pandemic, and much as she would surely train this new litter; Trained in subservience.
Her stance pleased him, and black lips quirked to show such gratification. But a wickedly clawed hand sought to gently grasp her down-turned chin and tilt it upward, so that those beautiful terrible tiger-eyes could meet his own volatile acid. So rarely was such a thing allowed, but he desired such connection now, for it was far easier to read the girl through her pupils. "Something troubles you?" Came the croon, although it was barbed - Her favoritism came at a price, and if a fool had thought to upset her, they would be met with the cold death that Sirius alone wielded in this Thistle Kingdom.
Her nearness intensified the scent of hormones, and although his control never for a moment slipped, Sirius could feel his body's reaction building against the buffer of sheer will. This confused him. She was a child - He knew her as a child. He did not, could not yet, know her as a woman.
If he were to speak such ideas aloud—to say she belonged to him—Salvia would have agreed without hesitation. She was a product of this place, of his training, and she would obey him without question. Sirius was law. Outsiders would never understand what Salsola meant, or why she would not question the land, but Salvia had seen only one other home and been unimpressed by it. Anathema was a distant memory made up of shadows and madness, and she associated what occurred with Harlowe (and in turn, his madness) with the place. It was Tak’s domain, the earth, and she distrusted it with good reason.
She gave into his touch willingly, and met his eyes without fear. There was a similarity in them; he was older, wiser, but still able to be cruel. She was volatile, savage; a true tiger compared to his subtle ways. If the time came for it, she would rise and destroy those who stood against her boldly while her uncle plotted and conspired and whispered behind her. To her, he was the guiding hand and she the weapon. One day she aimed to prove this to him.
Likewise, had this been anyone else, Salvia would have lied. She could not, not while he held her with his own poison gaze. A viper to her tiger, perhaps. “I’m afraid that my mother will replace me,” she admitted, ears turning back. “I no longer hold the same worth to her.” How could she, when all that remained were other daughters. Pandemic was lucky; he was the only son.
She was a beautifully crafted thing - The product of hours of his own labor, his own attentions. Although her mind and body were hers, Sirius had sculpted them carefully, made them deadlier, made them more perfect to his own opinion. Larkspur seemed to have approved of Sirius' teachings to his eldest daughter - The arbiter was one of his most loyal followers. Eris had either not noticed the way that the dark King had groomed her daughter, or she, like her mate, had accepted such a thing. In either case, Sirius had claimed Salvia; As his pupil, as his weapon, as the closest thing to his own flesh and blood. That was simply how it was.
Her eyes met his without abandon, and as always, he was surprised and pleased by the clarity and pure deadliness he saw within them. She was a tigress, formed by nature to kill by nature, and he had only been the harsh hand of fate that had guided her to this destiny. He had taken her from the dark cold earth and given her this kingdom - This wild place for wild things, this cold and harsh and beautiful land that pulsed with his blood and the blood of her mother. Their was their kingdom, and Salvia was a part of it, surely, as much as she was a part of their pack.
Her words did not surprise him, nor did they overly upset him. She was young and hot blooded - Her emotions, her jealousy, ruled her still. This was something that he could understand, something that he could use; A tool, as all things were to the fastidious and wicked mind of the Thistle King. His handsome, shadowy portrait dipped into an expression of displeasure; Dark brows drew together, casting clouds over the acidic lightness of his eyes. Black lips twitched in a grimace, and his hand fell away from her soft chin. One shoulder rolled, a mixture of acceptance, and a strange form of nonchalance. "Do not be afraid. Be certain. She has replaced you - This is truth, and you make yourself weak by not fully seeing it and accepting it," The poisonous words oozed from him, but his sincerity was flawless - Not even her keen eyes would be able to detect the viper's teeth flashing behind them. "She has new children now, Salvia. You have no purpose in her life anymore. You have no worth as a child anymore." His words were blunt, but always in that syrupy tone; Sweet as caramel, filled with a falseness, and yet equally, and fondness for her that was true. She was his, after all - It brought him no pleasure to see her pain.
Hands lifted, seeking to draw her close, perhaps into a hug. "But, don't despise her for it, my dear. She is driven by her instincts, as we all are. Love is a limited, but useful, emotion - Eris does a great service to our pack by loving your new siblings. She can do no less than that, for she is not like we are, Salvia. Your beloved mother holds a different power," For a moment, his gaze darkened, and deep within crawled that same tremor of - Was it fear? It was gone faster, perhaps, than it had ever been. Oozing comfort and loving, Sirius' full attention was on the girl once more. "You mustn't lay blame on those who do not see the world as I have taught you to see it. I know it hurts, but it is for the best." His croon beckoned to her, fastening chains about the tiger that she could not yet feel.
In one breath, Sirius did what no other man could have done. He shattered her wholly, ripping asunder the notions of childish priorities. She was replicable. She had been replaced. For an instant—and it was only an instant, for she would not allow it longer—her eyes were wide and gaping and broken. Then they sharpened, suddenly, as if being reformed in fire. Salvia’s shoulder straightened, resolved. She moved into the hard and dark body of her uncle with ease, but did not attempt to touch him yet.
She listened. She heard the promise in his voice and knew it was the truth. How could it not be? Never once had he lied to her. Never had he replaced her, though there were other women, but in her mind these were not people but objects and she alone stood beside the King in a way no other could. She would be his knight, his assassin, his servant. Groomed for such a position since the foundation of this pack (and perhaps even before it) Salvia shined under his dark dragon wings.
As he soothed the beast within her with soft words and invisible bindings, she finally looked up to him. Salvia alone did not fear to do this; she did not disrespect him in such a thing, for she would never imagine rising against him. Especially now, when he alone needed her. “You won’t replace me, will you?” It was a pleading thing, one that showed a weakness that others would not see. Emotionally, she needed someone to validate her—Pandemic alone was not enough.
He saw it - The shattering of a mirror behind glassy optics, the destruction of a childish and useless mentality. It was as a brief wound - Deeply painful, dramatically altering. But he genuinely believed that, as with any wound, it served a purpose - A lesson. She would learn from the pain she felt to shut it off and store it away, to maintain steely command over such futile aches as the ones that came from the heart. This was how he taught; Cruelly, perhaps, but with purpose. There was always purpose in his madness, in his genius. Always.
The girl moved into his embrace, but her body was sullen and frozen, stiff as it sought to reject the infection that his sentiments had caused. He would allow her this vulnerability, this moment to show him her weakness; Although the monarch openly despised such displays in public, privacy was for allowing them to seep through, so that they didn't build up and form barriers that would mar, and eventually destroy, a mortal mind. Her vulnerability appealed to him in a strange, uncomfortable way - She was surprisingly feminine within his grasp, and her pleading gaze hinted at an adult allure that had yet to fully bloom forth. It, along with her heavy hormonal scent, was enough to momentarily daze him.
Her question hung a moment in the air, and those serpentine eyes dilated as his tongue ran over sharp yellowed teeth. "No, Salvia," Came the rumbling reply, oozing from a place deep within his chest where the King's heart should have been. "So long as you are true to me, so long as you are faithful, I will never replace you," Perhaps it was a lie, but it felt like truth. So long as he could find no dissent within her, no rebellion or danger at his weapon being turned upon him, Sirius would always value the blooming Tigress. He had put enough effort and time into her to ensure that - She was his private project, his favored pupil, and this she would most probably remain.
