Origins oneshots

the graveyard

[Holy shit I live! I got super fucking sick but I'm here now and I have a long angsty fic for ya'll. I'll start writin sno stuff when more eps come out but for now:
Trigger warning for the topic of morality and death]

  Dark storm clouds swirled in the sky around the pyramid. Harsh rain pelted the ground, wind whipping violently, lightning danced in the sky as thunder wailed into the air. The guards shook, rushing inside of the palace with anything that would be ripped away by the wind. Two guards and a higher classed councilmen stood watching the young prince that had brought the storm about. 

  He was shaking, the cat-like ears on his head were pulled back flat against his head, his body was shaking, his tail was wrapped around him and he wouldn't say anything. Tears were falling from the young prince's eyes, his gaze was focused on the old, frail body in the guard’s hands. "Your grac-" "leave him." The shakey, small voice of the prince cut through the Nobel as if he had shouted. "Young prince Kiaba-" "leave him! G-go away" the child wailed. The three listen, laying down the frail body and scurrying from the room with another pity-filled glance. 

  False moonlight fills the underground chamber. Windblown in from above ground made the plant life sway and sent a shiver down the spine of the shaking prince. He clawed at the dirt of his favorite spot in the garden. He was on his knees, digging at the dirt insistently, unhindered by any cuts that formed as the soil got thicker and more compact. He'd already gotten an inch or two deep, blood was beginning to drip from his hands from cuts formed by rocks or harsh dry dirt on the soft pads on the adolescent hybrid. 

  It was only much later after the young prince had been forced to get a guard to help him dig the grave, that Kiaba calmed down. He sat, silent and motionless, by the grave. Wrappings covering his hands and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He stayed down there for days, only occasionally sneaking out at night for food and water. The garden under the palace, the one fostered by the young prince and his guard for years, was now a graveyard. He’d been so sad, so desperately lonely when his dad walked away from him after saying goodbye. His dad had been sick for years, his body slowing, his hair greying and his skin becoming softer and “wrinkled”, as his dad had put it. Then his dad simply left, without explanation, and said he wouldn’t be back. But now he was back, he was back, but he was dead.

  Meri and Selma had heard a few stories of the personal guards before them. Few and far in between as they were, they always left the two with a desire to live up to their predecessors, envious of how highly and fondly Kiaba spoke of them. Ashara had only heard one mention of any past guards, a woman from many years ago who had painted one of Kiaba’s most cherished pictures and whose child had carved a small cat statue for him out of wood that is kept next to the painting. Kiaba seemed very fond of the two trinkets, which is why it makes Ashara tense to pass the painting and see the small statue gone off its pedestal after returning from his mission. Kiaba isn’t in his room, he isn’t on his throne or at his table and neither of the twins is around. That made sense, he’d seen the fall out with Meri through Shiva.

  Trying not to worry himself he reached out, searching for Kiaba’s presence with Shiva’s sight. “Ashara” Shiva’s voice cuts through his thoughts when he can’t find him. “What?” “I can’t find him” the redhead tenses, a small spike of panic rising through him as he bites out a “w h a t?” “It seems he is in a place guarded against outsiders by another god.” The redhead stays frozen in place for a moment before he breaths out a reply with shaky breath “do you have a general area?” Shiva goes silent for a beat before he speaks “I believe he is still in or around the camp and it.” Ashara breathed in and out, shaking his head as if to disperse his anger. “Okay- okay that’s just- that’s just l o v l e y.” And so he started looking.