Jade Fern Grove slay the nemean lion

001 of 012 — the twelve labors of hercules ingram edition.

the early morning is overcast and chilled, dawn only beginning the threadlings of it's ascension.

ingram sets out from riverclan as he'd told ash paw he would during their ...quarrel. there was purpose to this venture though all of it utterly selfish.

it was in his nature, he supposes, to be selfish. to burn every single thread of connection that he tries to make. ingram was and always would be chaos incarnate and this mercurial nature does not sit well with everything he tries to be.

it feels more freeing to shed off the shackles of pack wolf the further he paces from claimed lands; cutting a path through the emerald and red ferns cloaked in the shadow of the pre-dawn.

While it brought her endless amusement to occasionally drop in and check on Avicus and the rapidly growing children, her frustration rose nevertheless like a fever every time she left them to resume her patrol. Prophet should have been there for them- he should have been there for Avicus, and he should have been there for her.

Needing to blow off some steam she informed Avicus she would be going out for a short scout- tracking to see which herds were travelling through the valley, knowing the does would be dropping their dawns soon. 

Ranging brought her some relief, though she still felt the stir of wickedness driving her forward, searching for an outlet. A familiar scent distracted her from her quest, and she felt an odd stirring in her chest. 

She remembered the way she’d felt when she first saw the man- the leader of a pack called Basilica. They’d been too focused on their hunt to stay long, but she’d given him a brazen wink before they’d left. 

She wondered if he remembered her- or if she’d changed too much since then for him to recognize her.

She preened her coat, splitting the fur along her shoulders where lynx claw marks left three takes along each shoulder, like decorative epaulettes. 

She sought him out, following his scent, and when she caught sight of him in the distance, she felt ravenous for some sort of self-sabotage. While she didn’t know exactly why she felt the way she did, she felt driven to go too far- to reach for too much from him. Even to potentially ruin her chances with the other young men she’d flirted with-

Some way to make her worthy of Prophet’s abandonment.

”Ingram, right?” She called out, sharpening the curve of one shoulder, casting her cornflower gaze in his direction with as much charged teenage energy as she could.

ingram is greeted by name, and he swings his head in her direction, seaglass gaze studying her face that is semi-familiar.

a little older than the last time he'd seen her.

on basilica's borders calling for the head of the girl ash paw had harbored and healed against his wishes. it brings with it sour memories made more unwelcome by the most recent fight with her. a metallic taste lingers in his mouth; the smart of disobedience and the fact that he does not think that his nature would allow him to repair bridges burned.

that's right. he responds.

She took his affirmation as an invitation, and tilting her head up lightly, she parted her lips in a faint grin, revealing only the tips of her fangs. She swayed her tail, and strolled toward him, her pace a casual saunter, moving in such a way that she’d begun to learn and experiment with- for the way it earned her the reward of a second glance. One that lingered.

”Yeah, I remember you,” She shrugged one shoulder. She lowered her gaze to his feet and brought it up. He didn’t look much older than her- perhaps by a year, she thought- but even then, he’d been a leader. Something she’d admired ravenously. 

She paused, leaning into her forepaws as she stretched her stance out into a show-pose. ”You remembuh me?” She asked, with a coquettish grin.

he watches her movements as she draws nearer, gaze lingering as she stretches. it is a deliberate movement, he thinks; but it holds his gaze all the same.

did he remember her?

you and your people came to my borders looking for the fugitive. he recalls it, wishing that the whole situation — past as it was — did not ignite such ire and resentment within him. but he did not tolerate disobedience well and the ungrateful child had could've so very easily brought war to basilica's borders.

not that it mattered now: basilica was a ruin.

and he, a king with a broken crown; masquerading as a subordinate when it so clearly did not suit him.

i remember. he retiterates.

He remembered the details of why she had come, though she wished perhaps he’d focused more on her, rather than why she and the others had come. His tone hinted at something like regret, even disdain- though he didn’t look at her with disgust. 

She kept her gaze warm. ”Thought you might,” She said, moving forward again, until she had drawn close enough to sweep in a circle, and sit, as casually as one might choose to sit on a park bench to watch ducks on a lake. 

She felt she did not need to elaborate that they had found the fugitive’s pack, and caused its dispersal. He might not have been overjoyed to hear that. 

”We’re back at Redtail Rithe now. Have been for a while. But I like to thcout. I’m workin’ on getting promoted.” She said, ambition trickling into a slight tilt of her chin. She looked back to him, a fluttering of her eyelashes accompanying her smile.

”I’m Lilia, by the way,”

it is not something that i am likely to forget soon. though likely not for the reasons anyone might think. his reasons were focused upon the own dissent upon his ranks and how he desired subordination; bending to his whims.

even though he had severed his ties with the dreadfather, that want still plagued him — and he was a fool to try to convince himself otherwise.

an honorable path. but not one that appealed to ingram. he was the kind that wrenched power for himself; usurping and unseating whoever he had to, to obtain it. the patient path.

a dark truth, but it was his truth.

lilia. he repeats her name, studying her where she sits so casually near him. confident ... or too trusting? he cannot be sure.

tell me about the rise. he invites.

A light smirk was prompted by what she considered to be a compliment. There was nothing quite like being memorable. After all, she thought that they’d cut a fine image, showing up as a united band of wolves who went full-out in search of revenge. If nothing else, it made them seem powerful- not the type to betray or belittle.

His comment about her career choices, however, made the joy fade from her eyes, like a puddle drying in the sun. Patient? Was this his way of telling her she wasn’t ambitious enough?

He fished- she would bite.

”It’th growing,” She aired. ”We’ve had more join thinth wintuh, an’ children born too.” She said. She turned her keen gaze to him again, wetted with appetite. ”The Rithe growth- an’ one day, it’th gonna be mine.”

there it is.

the ambition that tastes like his own: the assured it will be mine; though it is the 'one day' that tempers the familiarity.

ingram can feel the tether that holds the weight of restraint aloft and in play within himself fraying and snap.

he is tired of trying to force himself into a box that does not and would never fit him.

why one day? why not now? he asks; inviting the question to be challenge.

Her ambition had been tempered over the past year by the bonds of her friends and family. They’d proven their worth to her as more than subjects and those to be oppressed in the future. But Ingram was a fire starter, stoking within her the same scrappy flame she’d had when she’d first arrived at the Rise. 

Avicus asked them what they would want to be, when they were children- and then, in front of her peers and the heirs to the pack, she had stated that she was a princess and that she wanted to be queen.

Ingram had managed to find his way to a leadership role. She considered his question, but balked, giving him a lightly incredulous smile. He seemed to think everything could simply be taken- 

Could it?

”’Cauthe the otherth would probably turn on me. They’re all related, tho they wanna default to nepotithm. I’ve had to fight tooth an’ claw to make mythelf notithed ‘Cauthe I wath an orphan.” She said, though her voice did not tremble with the admission. 

She looked down the bridge of her muzzle at him.

”How did you become a leaduh?”

she tells her story and ingram, to his credit, is attentive.

an orphan. a princess. a queen in the making.

i took it. ingram says simply but with unbridled passion. i did not take no for an answer. and that was who he was. unrelenting. power hungry. it was who he'd always been ... at least after letting sithis wreak havoc with ingram's flesh and bone body as it's meat suit.

a soft sigh pushes past his muzzle.

in basilica's fall i've become ... disgusting placating. divinity playing the role of a subordinate, of a father of a husband... of those things i am not. she hadn't asked, likely wouldn't even care ingram thinks ... but it feels good to share it unabashedly. likely because she is a third party observer.

She regarded him carefully. One wolf had conquered a pack and made them all bow to his will? Likely, she thought, there had been some dissent before. She thought it must be impossible, for one as young as him, to be a conqueror- and get, the light possibility of such a thing made her look at him in wonder. 

It made her doubt herself. She could not take on all of the Rise- several of her contemporaries had beat her in spars, more than once. For all of her ferocity, she was still a novice. 

She was surprised to hear that Basilica had fallen. It’s foundation was a wolf who had conquered- and like ancient stone monoliths, it seemed just as susceptible to the ebb and flow of time. Even the mightiest trees would crack and fall, regardless of how deep their roots might reach. 

He seemed to feel he was little more than a shade of himself. She pitied him, though it irked her that he seemed to think so little of being a father. Her eyes narrowed.

”Which would you rathuh have, then?” She asked, her heart thrumming. ”A family, or to be a leaduh again?”

Her mind buzzed with the possibilities.

there was a morally right answer to her next question ... and a morally wrong one.

but there was a lingering resentment and exhaustion at pretending he was something he wasn't; and a lack of caring if his truth caused offense to anyone.

to be a leader.

”Well, then,” She purred. Brazen, she reached out to touch him if he’d let her, bringing her smiling lips close to his ear. ”It theemth we have a lot in common,” She whispered. She drew back, mere inches so she might look upon him at the very distance where her vision would start to blur. This close, she could see only him- 

And the view was stunning.

if there is guilt at tearing away the mask and letting exposed the villain he was at his core: it is fleeting.

a will-o-wisp that is extinguished out of existence before it could really be.

seaglass blue gaze watches as she draws nearer, the small cant of his head brushing his muzzle against her cheek as her lips find his ear.

when she draws back slightly, he speaks: so it would seem, ingram murmurs in agreement. so what do we do with it this ... alignment of interests?

His touch made her cheek burn as though grazed by a flame. Guilt might have been transferred with it- as she had a brief moment to consider the others she allowed to touch her like that. But she drank the attention like wine, drunk and lost in the bottle once it touched her lips.

”Aren’t you the divine one?” She leaned her shoulder against his, finding him almost uncomfortably firm, though his fur was soft. ”What do you thee for uth?”

she is younger than him ... and were there anything ever that had been heroic in ingram, it would be telling him that he shouldn't be influencing her so.

but there wasn't, and so he holds fast to the distancing belief that she is old enough to make her own decisions.

godtouched. perhaps sithis had only let ingram think that he had truly left. perhaps once the daedric prince had infected him ... there was no severing them off. like cutting off the head of the hydra: two more grew in it's place.

an itch, to bone read. but his bones were tucked in their hiding hole in riverclan; probably collecting dust from the time in which ingram had not touched them. too afraid of what he would see.

accepting himself for what he was chased away all that fear.

but, he didn't need the threadbones to tell him.

power, he purls. taking what he want. you, queen ...and i ... i would be your worripa, the name in which he'd been born with made title. war reaper.

Lilia had learned by now that she had two hungers that motivated her actions. The hunger for companionship and the hunger for power. She had thought the two would always go hand in hand- and when it came to Ingram, she felt that both could be satisfied, perhaps...If only he wasn't still a complete stranger. A fascinating, attractive one- but a stranger still. 

Within her she knew a warmth, one that had come from those who had tended to her for some time, who had begun to court her. Those who knew her insecurities, and who sought to embolden her against her fears. They might have also been a means of finding her way to power, too- but it was so difficult to tell, not knowing which of the Redtail Rise boys might eventually end up making themself a leader. 

Here, now, there was Ingram- who looked and saw that there was potential for them together- and offered her what seemed like a promise. She was starved for it- 

- but then she remembered her ties. The ones who nurtured her. 

Now did not seem a safe time to break away from him. Gently, she thought. 

"When?" 

Learn more- and then consider her options.

ingram's seaglass gaze is unyielding as it studies her face; contemplating her question.

when i return from my travels. is his non-specific answer.

he still planned to roam, letting the bones of fate fall where they may. and if he wasn't pulled in a different direction there was a good chance that he might show up at redtail's borders and see just how badly she wanted what she spoke to him of.

how badly she desired to be queen.

She was given an answer; and immediately, with the promise of seeing him again, she felt lightly threatened with the thought of what he might say if he came to Redtail Rise. After all, he knew where she lived, and he could have been stationed anywhere, for all she knew. "Very well," She said, pulling back at last, and rising to her feet. 

It seemed she had the former leader of Basilica enchanted; better that, then enraged. "If you come to the Rithe...Thpeak nothing of thith." She gestured with a paw from herself, and then to him. This meeting, she hoped, would be theirs, and theirs only. "Our thecret." She enticed, with a slight smile.

she speaks of keeping a secret and in that ingram has his answer ... or rather, the one he chooses to glean from her words.

it wasn't fair to paint her with his belief of what her words meant ... but ingram does it anyway.

a secret.

it rankles at him, like the prickle of a thousand needles.

then you are not ready. he tells her cooly, dismissively. i am what i am and am tired of hiding. i will keep no secrets.

She blinked. She shrugged. 

"Fair." She said. After all, he seemed like the sort who wouldn't hesitate to harm or distance her from those she loved. She'd begun to fear his potential, and what he could do the life she'd worked so hard to build, and the inkling of regret could be recognized when she felt some sort of relief at his dismissal. 

"Perhapth then, it would be betht for you to purthue greatneth on your own-" She reasoned, "But conthider, maybe, the potential of having an ally." It might suit them both more, after all, if there was some space between them- together, they might just create calamity...But aligned, perhaps they would both be fortified.

perhaps, ingram agrees simply to parting ways.

she wanted to keep her true desires a secret from those in her pack ... out of a loyalty that ingram did not feel. felt perhaps once but was borne out of obsession.

but the committer of matricide was hard pressed to feel loyalty to anything except his own chaos; and even then it's been a shaky thing.

until ...and if, we meet again. he offers a dip of his head in parting, not wishing to linger here any longer.

She gave him a nod of her head, before she departed. 

And as she moved away, she was surprised to see how easily her infatuation faded away, as if her greed had been satiated the moment he'd appeared to want to collaborate with her. It was a lesson learned, for her. It felt like summoning the devil, only to realize that it wasn't a deal she wanted at all. 

She left him, even more convinced now that she should seek her goals without force- so she might not fall from grace the way he had.