The tribute.

It was a weird feeling, sitting in the old temple gathering hall, among the crowd, watching the drawing. The gazelle tribe had prospered. Only the families of the noblemen were let in, yet the hall that once, generations ago had housed them all, was now full. They were all awaiting the drawing, taking place every year, to decide who had to pay the tribute.

Generations ago, their forefathers had been hunted like ordinary prey by the hunters and scavengers of the savanna. But unlike ordinary prey the anthro gazelles had armed themselves. War had broken out, and eventually brought both the gazelle tribe as well as the lions, formerly the mightiest of the tribes, to the brink of extinction, while decimating the lives of many more. Yet the last battle was won by the predators, breaking through the lines, invading the camp where the young were kept. They could have looted and pillaged, killed and ended their existence once and for all. Instead their leaders had offered a treaty, ending the hunting as well as war once and for all. Demanding only a symbolic tribute once a year. One live to be given to the predators, to keep the peace, while the races prospered and lived well.

Last years tribute had been paid to the scavengers of the mountains. This years would be going to the hyenas. Next year would be going to the lions themselves. Next year, she would be going, she knew. The drawing was a farce.

Of course everyone was told the drawing was random, any noble daughter of age could be chosen the symbolic prey. But it was long pre-determined. A matter of politics, a voting behind closed doors, secret alliances made, offerings made for power and for owing of favors. Most of the nobles would not want to loose one of their kin, while some would readily trade their own family for wealth, power and influence.

Her father had spoken to her a month ago, told her about the delicate political situation, and the few noble gazelles born her year.  He had dared to oppose the mightiest lord in an important political question. Now it had been hinted to him that this would cost him a daughter. Next year, as the tribute to the lions, only a wonder could save her. That wonder being one of the few independent lords to vote for his own daughter to be sent. It was not going to happen, she knew both daughter and father, knew how much he loved her. No matter how big the friendship between their fathers, he wouldn't sacrifice his own kin. And her own father couldn't even hold it against him.

The priest had just finished the drawing, holding a leaf with small golden imprint. He stepped forward, then spoke with a booming voice, denying his old age and grey fur. "The gods have chosen this years tribute. The live sacrificed to honor the treaty of Saryn the great, end of all savage death on the planes by the fangs of the tribes. Step forward, Lucia of house Atimon!"

A murmur went through parts of the crowd. A cry of despair sounded from among the lines, whether it was the mother or the victim herself, she couldn't tell.  There was some ruckus in the lines, and eventually guards brought along the girl, bound, out of her mind to break free. She was brought forth to the altar, the priest made a couple of announcements, gave her blessings, then she was lead of, with a small escort. To leave towards the grounds of the hyenas and never come back.  She was handcuffed and lead by two male guards, forcing her forward like a prisoner.

Sylvia looked away, she couldn't bear watching the look of despair on the girls face. Instead she watched her father, who was studying her face, over from the lords bench, but quickly looked away guiltily when their gazes met.

Among the other lords some looked pleased, some angry, some victorious. It seemed like this years tribute had been disputed as well. At least to the victim it must have came as a surprise, she had been unprepared. Now the guard let her to the hyenas who would end her live. Hopefully swiftly. And next year she would go to the lions. To be eaten, so another generation could live in peace.

A week later, allowed for an audience with her father the lord, she spoke to him about it. Openly. As if it was a matter of what to eat for dinner. Or any other politics. Sylvia didn't want to shame the house by being forced by guards, she would go calmly and gracefully. "That is very noble of you, I'm proud." He said. He was close to tears, but hiding them well. "Maybe there is no need, maybe Timon of Alhambra changes his mind, or Turak votes for his own." Sylvia knew those were straws it was no use trying to hold her hopes up.  And father knew it too. Come to think of it knowing in advance was a privilege too, she could at least go prepared. As much as one could prepare for death.  What exactly awaited her?

"The lions choose one of their own lords sons, similarly to how we do, but with more fixed rules and no fake drawing. His task is to uphold the treaty by receiving the gift we..., you will be giving. Unlike the mountain savages who would kill you on the town square and rend your flesh between their commoners.  The ancient law state that your bones have to be returned 3 days later for honorful burial, like it happened with Lucias yesterday. But what exactly happens there is up to the house that would be chosen."

Sylvia knew she would use that year she had left wisely. She could run away, life apart from the tribe on her own. But no, that would bring deep shame on her house, and lose her father that little political power they had. Worse, it might doom one of her sisters to be sent to the scavengers of the mountains.

Who were the lions? How did they live? Would they grant her the mercy of a swift death? Or torture her? She'd need to find out.

----

Tarek was called in front of the high lord. He entered the hall, doing the obligatory bow at the entrance, before walking towards the throne. Except that the ceremonial throne was empty today, the lord was instead sitting on a table on the side. Even more surprising was to see his father sitting on the side, apparently in a discussion. Tarek had assumed this to be a formal audience, instead it looked like a rather informal meeting.

"Ah, young Tarek, come over here please."

"Yes, your majesty." Tarek answered, and came towards the table, bowing again.

"Stand up and at ease." the lord said friendly. "I summoned you to inform you that its your fathers house turn to receive the tribute from the gazelles this year. As the heir to your fathers house, that task would fall on you. Now I know that some people frown upon that ancient custom, and your house has a quite liberal reputation. I want to make sure how you feel about this."

Tarek glanced towards his father, but his face only told him he owed this audience to him, but could expect no further help.

But the lord continued.

"To be honest, since I myself once had to receive that tribute, I understand fully how difficult that can be. We are no wild savage killers anymore. I think our leaders never were, not even at the time of the war, otherwise the treaty would not have been made that way four hundred years ago.  But the treaty involves the hyenas as well as the rogues. And currently all of them uphold the customs. If we neglect the tribute, the gazelle tribe might be offended that we don't honor their sacrifice, but even more so it might make the rogues feel that the treaty is no longer binding for them either.  Especially the small groups that do not receive tribute themselves might start skirmishes, with us, for power, or with the gazelles. There is poverty in the mountains. Little game, failed crops, risk of famine. I'd not be surprised if they'd take any opportunity to fall into a more fertile area, taking lives as well as land. Now I want you to understand that. I still give you the opportunity to decline, I have assured your father that it would not inflict on your houses honor or influence. And I will assign the task to another house. But it has to be done this year."

Tarek nodded, thinking about the lords words, but the questioning look on both their faces told them they wanted an answer now.

"Your majesty, I do honor the customs of our ancestors. I will gladly receive the sacrificial tribute, as you wish."

The lord nodded.

"As you might know, the task of reception is on you alone. You will take whoever they sent as sacrifice into your own quarters, where it is expected from you to kill her and eat at least the heart. You can then call your family to feast with you after that, or cook the meat, as well as prepare the bones in an honorful way to send them back for their funeral. Make sure to not cook or damage them beyond bite marks, those are expected. But any further desecration might offend the sacrifices relatives, who are lords after all.  The bones must be sent back no more than three days after the ceremony.  And one more thing. Don't underestimate whoever it is. She might not be submissive but put up a fight when you are alone. Even gazelle nobles can loose their manners when faced with death and a chance of winning. There have been injuries in the past to receivers who weren't careful."

"Thank you, your majesty. I will take your advice in mind."

"Excellent. You may go then."

Tarek bowed to the old lord, whose big almost white mane was more of a status symbol than any crown could ever be, shaming even his fathers proud fur.  He himself still had the short fur of the young, even though he was of age by now. He walked out of the throne room, backwards as it was demanded, turned around only after the guard had closed the door. Him receiver of the tribute...  It was a big honour. But could he really kill someone? And eat her?  Like he did with hunting game? It felt weird to think of it. But he would have to be ready, it was expected of him.

----

Sylvia carefully chose her garment. It needed to be humble enough for the annual drawing gathering at the temple, yet knowing it would be her, walking past the lords, she wanted to make a statement. She wanted to shame them. And that she could do best by rubbing it into their noses what their sons would loose out on. So she took her most expressful garment that she could still risk going to the temple with, put on subtle perfume and make up. Who knew, maybe she'd even appeal to the lion who would be killing her? That concept was intriguing. Interspecies relation was frowned upon, but then again, these were extraordinary circumstances, weren't they? It was probably foolish to have such fantasies. Probably he would kill her in a manner as swift and as impersonal as possible, just to make it easier for himself.

Traders had been her spies, ears in the distance that would report to her secretly, so she already knew the lions had selected house Atride to receive the tribute this year. That house had a similar standing there than her fathers.  Unconservative, sometimes a bit rebellious. Except that the current lord Atride seemed to have a close relation to the lions high lord, which explained they received that unusual honor. She had heard about Tarek Atride, apparently a dutiful and intelligent young heir to that house, who seemed to share his fathers liberal ideas and bright mind. That's what the rumors said.  It was quite surprising that not any of the conservative houses would receive the tribute as usual. But at least that made it unlikely to get handed to a sadistic sick mind, that would love to torture her to death slowly. There had been rumors about that happening in the past.

Why did she even care? She'd die anyway. But then again somehow she looked forward meeting that young lion, hoping for the best.

Everyone was sitting in their places as usual. Each house had their traditional benches. Sylvia could see her father on the lords bench, his face grey and expressionless like stone. The priest started his farce, getting the bowl with the leafs ready, giving his usual bla bla, then starting the drawing ceremony. She had needed to know for sure, so she had secretly advanced lord Turak, made him tell her in person he would not vote for his own daughter. It was hard on the old friend of the house, but she needed to know for sure.  She wasn't certain, but afterwards he seemed even grateful, as if she had taken the weight of guilt from his shoulders by telling him she understood and approved his decision.

"The gods have chosen this years tribute. The live sacrificed to honor the treaty of Saryn the great, end of all savage death on the planes by the fangs of the tribes.  Step forward, Sylvia ...  of house Me ... ehm"

The priest got confused. Cleared his throat. Murmurs went through the benches, as Sylvia was obviously already standing.

"Step forward, Sylvia of house Melnar!" the priest finally finished loud and clearly after a hissed side comment from one of the clerical assistants.

"Whats going on? Why does she know? Where are the guards?" Hissed murmurs among the lords as well as the clergy.

Sylvia was pacing up the center aisle in the temple, gracefully, slowly. No guards were in sight to force her or give her handcuffs. Her father had played his influence to make sure there wouldn't be any. The lords looked uneasy, but Sylvia didn't give them the satisfaction of looking at them. She was taking the priests command literally and stepped in front of the altar, made even a small bow, then spoke the ancient words that the tributee was once supposed to say herself. Yet no one had spoken them for themselves in at least a hundred years, the guard usually speaking for the victim instead.

"I am summoned before the council, as tribute to the victorious lions, as Saryns treaty commands. Send me out and I shall not return, so the peace will be kept."

The priest was well aware of the old ritual words Sylvia had spoken, however it broke his concept, he was prepared to send the guards to take her, but there were none. It took him a moment to remember the next step he was supposed to do, which made even more murmurs throughout the benches, then hisses to stop them. Finally the priest remembered his duty, gave her the blessing and a necklace reserved for this occasion. Now he would normally order the guard to bring her to the meeting point with the lions, half way between their territories. But there still was no guard. He improvised by sending her directly.

"Go now to the trades point of ancient, to be received by the envoy of the lions. Do not ret... no you sad that already. Blessed be your way."

Sylvia made the bow, hearing the hissed whispering on the lord bench behind her. She felt her tight garment squeeze her backside as she did the ceremonial curtsy, feeling triumphant at the show she gave the lords and their ladies.

Then she turned, head up and eyes straight and walked out of the temple, leaving the lords and their families behind clueless. She had managed to glance towards her father in the turn. He was ash grey and looked to the ground ashamed. No one held her back, no one tried to do anything. There were still no guards. Someone took his favor towards her father very seriously it seemed, she hoped whoever arranged that wasn't in too much trouble later.

By the time she left the town for the meeting point, quite a number of commoners were lining the street to watch the usual procession of the guards dragging the tributee out of town, she knew there'd be no more guards coming.  Maybe a scout would follow her to make sure she didn't run away, but they couldn't detain her anymore without loosing face now. She felt free, even knowing she was walking towards her doom, it had been a victory. She had exposed the farce the drawing  had become, maybe almost too openly, everyone would know now that the tributee was pre destined. And by that she had exposed the corrupt ways of the council of lords. Her father would need to face some repression for that, she was sure, but in the eyes of the people he'd now be a hero.

Speeding up her pace she went into a slow run, customary when walking open plains.

----

"Mylord, you are not even supposed to be here, this is not customary." The envoy guard, dressed in ceremonial armor and weapons, said in a hushed voice.  Tarek smiled.

"You have my permission to skip that detail in your report then."

"But at least leave our patrol before we reach town. The protocol doesn't suppose you to meet the tributee before the treaty ceremony."

"Don't worry, I'll go a different way and be home in time. I just want to see this here."

"Its nothing. Their lords decide who gets sent, then the guards escort her here, and we take over for the rest, keeping her detained. Sometimes if necessary they carry her in a locked palanquin, that sucks because then we have to carry it all the way and bring it back. Its really nothing spectacular."

"Sir, someone is coming."

Tarek strained his eyes, looking into the same direction as the others.

"Something is wrong. I see just one figure."

"Just great. Lets wait here, see who it is. Could be a messenger, maybe there had been a delay. Lets hope its just that."

Tarek still stared into the direction, overhearing the discussion between the soldiers. A single gazelle came. Female, no sign of military uniform. Could it be the tributee? The soldiers seemed not to think so.

"Sir, this doesn't look like an envoy."

The sergeant didn't give answer.

Slowly the gazelle came closer, stopped running until she was just walking steadily, with the graceful movement of her kind. Tarek could just admire the beauty, clad in garment that among his kind would be called more than a bit risky. But to her it fit so natural, yet exotic. He hadn't seen such a female anthro gazelle up close before. Just a few traders.

Sylvia approached the group of lions. Yellow fur, fangs in their faces they looked fierce. Especially with weapons and uniform. There was no question this was the group of envoys supposed to receiver her. How to address them?  She knew the common language between tribes fluently, but were there any words she was supposed to speak? Nobody had told her anything. Usually probably the guards did the negotiations if there were any. Who was that young male next to them? He was dressed noble, and seemed to stand somehow above the envoys, yet didn't seem to belong here. He looked at her openly. His mane less boast than of older male lions, yet his stance had a proudness in it that told of mental strength. His gaze was curious, but his catlike eyes stirred a fear deep in her, the fear of prey towards the predator. Somehow that open interest into her stirred it more than the passive hostility she felt from the envoy soldiers.

Eventually she came close enough for talking and she made the sign for greeting.

The sergeant returned the gesture. "This is the border to lion territory. I am envoy sergeant Aaruk. We are here to receive the tribute sacrifice today.  Where are your envoys? Whats with the delay?"

Sylvia suppressed a smile, this could have been almost funny if she didn't face what she was about to face. "There is no delay, I am Sylvia of Melnar, I have come alone to pay tribute to the lions."

"You are?..." the sergeant asked in surprise and disbelief. Sylvia just held his gaze steadily. Somehow it was fun to see the surprise in peoples faces one could cause by just boldly going forward. Yet her heart beat anxiously, the shadow of her dreadful fate looming over her. Somehow that knowledge made her more bold that she could otherwise have been towards the predator cats.

"This is very unusual. However, in that case you are to accompany us back to Hirchandanar, where the treaty ceremony is to be held, celebrating the end of the great war, 400 years ago. You are aware of what happens afterwards, do you?"

Sylvia nodded, a hint of fear running over her face. She knew, if she had wanted, this would probably have been her last chance to run.

"Usually we detain the tributee, however in these circumstances we could escort you freely, trusting you won't attempt to run away. Do we have your word, Sylvia of Melnar?"

Sylvia nodded. "I will not attempt to run."

The sergeant nodded, breathing heavily. Good then. We have about 2 hours at walking pace till we reach the town. Do you need a rest first?

Sylvia shook her head. It was no use resting in the open daylight sun.

"Then onwards, honorary escort positions in font and after the lady!" He ordered, and his men complied. The sergeant then stepped towards Tarek.

"Great. Just great. This year is just crazy. First the tribute receiver breaches protocol, then the tributee comes on her own. Whats next, the high lord giving a public juggling performance at the ceremony?"

Tarek gave a shrug. But Sylvia had overheard the comment. Turning towards them she gave Tarek a second look. Was he the one who would...

Tareks eyes met Sylvias, having studied her most of time. Somehow he had always imagined a shy, submissive, maybe desperate and fearful girl to be sent. Instead it was this lady, beautiful, sexy, yet strong, willingly coming on her own. He lowered his head, unable meet her gaze.

"I am on my way to be in town before you." he told the sergeant, then paced of at a moderate running speed.

"Are you happy now with what you have seen, my lord?" The sergeant called after him, but only when he was too far away to answer and could pretend not having heard.

The sergeant shook his head, then lead the procession, leading their prey right into the predators nest.

----

The sergeant had sent one of his men ahead to inform the ceremonial leaders of the slight change in protocol, that their "honorary guest" would be left unrestrained and with honorary guards only. Considering the special occasion of the four hundred year celebration, this would certainly add to the spirit of the event. After all they celebrated a peace treaty signed willingly by all parties. Also it would silence those questioning the tribute payments on their own site, if the gazelles showed such an outstanding display of honoring.  Which in turn would keep those silent who wanted to undo the treaty for their own gain.

So instead of the ceremonial leader, the festival was opened by no one less than his highness, the high lord himself. He even bowed to Sylvia as if she was an official envoy, and she returned the curtesy in the appropriate way, much to the awe of the audience.  The ceremonial master started the official part by reciting the ancient history, how uncontrolled scavenging and preying upon other tribes had led to war. How brave lion soldiers had overcome their opponents both predators and prey, and finally gained victory over the gazelles in a brave and fortunate battle, leaving them at their mercy. How their leader Saryn had made the wise decision of not looting the gazelles main camp, but instead take the opportunity to offer a peace that held 400 years.  The tribute payments now seemed cruel, but in a historic context they were very civil compared to the carnage taking place before. Predators had been preying on other predators, while even the gazelles had pillaged farmland and burnt villages alike. Then he announced the chosen receiver of the tribute, house Atride, and Tarek, clad in official outfit stood up.

They had told her that at this point guards would normally force her into the receivers house, but even here there were none. Both the ceremonial masters as well as Tarek himself had dismissed theirs, making Sylvia face the lion prince alone.

She again spoke the ancient words herself. "I, Sylvia of Melnar, house of the gazelle tribe, pay with my life and blood as tribute to the treaty of Saryn the great. May his peace last."

The crowd cheered. A thousand roaring lions and quite a number of guests from other species applauded her brave and honorful appearance. Tarek had to start twice with his traditional reply, to be heard.

"I, Tarek of Atride, pride of lions, shall receive your gift and sacrifice.  May your brave offering shine honor on your house for all time."

Sylvia smiled. The last part wasn't traditional, yet she was sure mention of it would reach home and shuffle and stir politics a bit. Maybe she could even talk some politics with this Tarek. Before...

before he'd kill her ...

Tarek didn't lead the way, he even let Sylvia walk in front of him. Of the town square and uphill a smaller road, the path here too lined with commoners watching. Some seemed to have hoped for a show where a crying and hopeless girl was dragged to her demise, they got a show of a different kind. She walked graceful and steady, showing of her body that seemed to have a very unique effect on the common lions, putting them in a hopeless state somewhere between drooling and admiration, only making sure not get too far from Tarek, who guided her in a similarly ceremonial pace. His face expressionless, a mask set up for the common folk. And to hide his nervousness Sylvia thought. She was doing the same.

----

The manor was a castle of its own. Bigger even than Melnar hall at home, the outer gate opened by guards, leading to a court, then to an inner gate, opened by servants. None spoke to Sylvia, Tarek gave a few hustled commands.

Then they were lead up a stair, and through another wooden door into a stone tiled estate, pillows on the ground around a table, sleek pillars formed arcades around a fountain under open night sky. The night was warm and beautiful, flowers blooming, insects singing. Nobody else was there. It was a house in the house. The private quarters of a prince.

Sylvia turned around, watched Tarek enter, the door closing behind him.  Chandeliers in the wall illuminated his groomed beige fur, his hint of a once to be proud mane. His distinct but yet youthful features. She saw details she had missed that far. The whiskers on top of his lips, over his threatening fangs. Twitching here and there as if they had a mind of their own. His pointed ears, turning to listen for the sound of the insects.  His smell. She had smelled lions since she came here, but now that it was only him, his scent was dominating. Strong, dreadful, stirring instincts in her, old as the earth, all telling her that she should be running as fast as she could. But she couldn't. Under his fur played muscles, a strength much more brute than the sleek elegance on almost any gazelle, yet his movements were still flowing and elegant in a way. Catlike. Every inch yelling danger, threat. Even his eyes inspired instinctive fear, but his expression was different. Unsure, ashamed.  Guilty. Coupled with an open admiration for her, like she had seen on so many lions faces today.

Tarek looked at the gazelle standing in front of him. Now they were alone, she was his to take. Entirely. Her features were firm, strong yet of an elegance only antelopes and gazelles could show. Her eyes were big and brown, a hint of fear in them that betrayed her bold and straightforward look all day. So far they had both held up masks, to fool the commoners and the genteel. But now there was no audience, just themselves. Just a gazelle girl frightened for her life, and a lion boy that was supposed to kill her and didn't want to.

"What now?" she asked, unsure.

"If I could, I'd let you go." he said.

Sylvia shook her head.

"In three days the envoys will await my bones at the border line." she said.

"And failure to bring them could mean as much as war... Will you fight me?" he asked.

"I might. But it'd be pointless." she said.

"I had thought a long time what do do and say here. You are ... different."

Sylvia nodded, questioning him with her eyes.

"If you wish I can make it swift and painless. In your sleep if you prefer."

Sylvia weighted his words, thinking.

"No"

"No?" Tarek was surprised.

"I have hoped you would ask me that, offer me an easy way out. And I am grateful that you did, but I knew for a year I'd be here today. The lot-drawing which was supposed to be random is fake.  Its all politics these days. I really thought about this. ... But it would be so pointless if you just quickly swiped me away, to just treat this body as dead meat."

Sylvia made a swiping hand movement as if her consciousness could be chased away like a fly, then exposed her hip and thigh, forward, looking down at herself, brushing her own fur thoughtlessly, as if it really was just a piece of meat to be prepared, slightly shuddering at the sensation of her fingers squeezing her muscles.

"I am not dead meat. I don't want to be made dead quickly. I don't want to waste this little time I have left. Please don't snuff my life away as if it was in the way."

Tarek tilted his head, thinking, watching her chest heave with her breath, moving her firm and barely hidden breasts under her garment, noticed the slight pulsing under the skin of her neck, twitching with her heartbeat. The sweet smell of prey her body emitted, spiced with the slight odor of fear. It all created a feeling of wanting in him that grew stronger with the minute. 

Yes, she was alive, she was a person, but she also was his supposed prey. How was that supposed to go together? Tarek was confused.

Sylvia made a step towards him. She remembered her wild fantasies about what he could do to her in a pleasant way. She knew there was no second chance, that he could have already killed her easily by now.

She observed his sleek but strong body. The firm bulgy muscles, his jaws, easily able to rip her apart, his strong scent.  It was near unbearable, and seeing in his eyes that he started wanting her body eagerly, even if only as food, she knew what to do.

Another step forward. Her hoof made a clocking noise on the stone tiles.

Sylvia could smell his breath now. Strong, a rancid undertone. He had eaten meat. She was taken aback and drawn closer at the same time. her mouth slightly open.

Tarek could see her tongue, thick and fleshy, caught himself thinking what it would taste like. He lifted his arms, as to prevent her from coming any closer. But Sylvia took his paw with her hands, and dragged it closer to her until it touched the soft fur on her chest. Her body was warm and soft.  Sylvia felt his rough paw, Tareks sharp claws poking her skin, knew that he could now feel her heartbeat, fast and excited. She saw his maw open, his sharp teeth in front of her, threatening, anticipated them to bite into her.

Tarek was breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the sensation, felt dizzy.

"Please ..." Sylvia begged him, he didn't know for what. Slowly he had come even closer to her, feeling the urge to grab her and take her. Her snout close to his, he felt her breath on his whiskers, fear mixing with her sweet delicate scent. Then his lips touched hers, his tongue licking her snout. Her lips tasted so sweet as if she was made from candy just for him.

He couldn't resist longer, couldn't stand longer. With his other arm he grabbed hers, dragged her over to the pillows and collapsed with her.  Sylvia felt being pulled by the strong lion, followed without resistance, the soft pillow breaking her fall, while her hand was still holding his to her chest, and her gaze was still fixed on his eyes. A throbbing moisture between her legs made her urge for his strong grip on her, didn't care whether he used teeth or claws. She pressed his paw into her fur, stronger now, feeling the claws pierce into her skin. And then he opened his maw, lowered, took her shoulder, her neck between his teeth and bit.

Tarek didn't bite hard, it just felt right to nibble her gently. Yet she gasped and arched at the touch, drawing air. Somehow he stopped thinking, followed his instincts to what felt right. It was beyond words at this point.  His paw searched further, brushed down the fur on her front to her soft belly.  Oh what a bulgy soft belly the gazelle had. He drew his claws into her skin.  Gently, first, but she thrust herself into him forcefully. Their hips met, his member pressing hard and throbbing against her pelvis.

Sylvia had tried to imagine how it would feel to do it with a lion in the long lonely months leading up to the treaty celebration, knowing that it would be pointless to get courted or start a relationship. Now the lion took all her fear, all her frustration away. She gave herself to him completely, but as a reward she received ... bliss.

Tarek thrust his hip into hers, felt himself inside her, his claws on her back. He nibbled her neck, licked her ears, played with her fur, while listening to her short high pitched moans. She wrapped her legs around his, felt the scrubby fur of his legs between her thighs, gave in to his rhythm, joining it,  moving in unison. His member wasn't made for her body, was rough and big, and hard, as if it had a bone within. She felt like she would burst yet still wanted him in even further, hungrily pressing his hips into hers, giving in to his maw on her neck, her skin and fur between his teeth. Until she was arching, screaming, moaning. And yet he didn't stop, had a hunger for her that sex alone couldn't sate. But he didn't dare harming her yet, continued till his hot load filled her, and beyond. A shudder went through each of their bodies, and Tarek clenched his teeth, not realising he still had her fur between them. The sweet metallic taste of blood told him his teeth had pierced the skin on her shoulders, but she shuddered with him, holding him tight.

Eventually they relaxed, disentangled. He felt the heat her body radiated, like a burning fire next to him, both covered in sweat. A bite mark covered her shoulder, dark against the moonlight. Sylvia moaned slightly, a sweet shudder mixed with pain as she felt his rough tongue lick sweat and blood of her fur. Then he shifted, went down between her legs, to taste her sex in a similar way. Sylvias hands in turn searched his still throbbing member, her long tongue extended, she licked the sweet drops of his shaft and the thorn like barbs on his tip, feeling his shaft bone under soft flesh.  Now it was his time to moan in pleasure, pressing his claws into her thighs, indulged into her sweet scent. Shortly later he nibbled on her clitoris, took the fleshy lips into his maw, scrubbing them with his rough cat tongue.

Again she shuddered and arched, brought from peak to peak by Tareks gentle play, his genital between her hands, pressing it, playing it, licking it, until they both came again.

Afterwards she just enjoyed being held tightly and warmly, as the night became colder around them. The lion provided a type of strength a gazelle buck could never provide, that wasn't meant for her. Yet it made her feel content during this supposedly last night of her life.

Finally Tarek had fallen asleep, exhausted and tired. Sylvia looked up into the night sky beyond the arcades, with tears in her eyes. What would the morning bring?

----

Sylvia was woken up by instincts when it was still dark, in that cold hour before dawn. She couldn't tell when she had fallen asleep in the first place, but she felt danger.  Holding her breath she opened her eyes carefully. And glanced into sharp fangs and an opened maw. It was Tarek, bent over her, ready to strike into her neck, yet not moving. She took precious second to order her thoughts, then whispered.

"... Please, ... not like this."

Tarek closed his mouth, sat back.

"So you are awake now. I thought It'd be better like that, after last evening, but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't kill you in your sleep."

Sylvia sat up, shuddering. She felt the bite mark in her shoulder, small scratches all over from his claws, muscle pain. And it was cold.  Maybe Tarek was right, maybe it would have been better. She admitted it was thoughtful of the lion. But it wasn't right.

"I don't want it like that."

"How should I do it then? Fight you? There is no weapon. There are non here.  They say its safer that way."

"No, no weapons. Just you and me." she answered.

"You said you don't want it swift. If try it gently and slowly, will you hold still?"

Sylvia gave no answer, she didn't know. Did the question, how do you want to die, have any good answers at all?

Tarek came closer, put his arm around her shoulder. She let it happen. Then, gently placing her on her back, he neared her exposed neck, opened his maw.  She held still, but gasped as his tongue touched her fur, his jaws grabbed her neck right in between. He felt her heartbeat, her breath, her trembling. Then slowly he bit, clenching his jaws together. She jerked, grabbed his fur tight, but held still even as he strangled her between his teeth.

She felt him bite, a numb pressure building up in her head, piercing pain where his sharp teeth met her skin. She felt his pressed breathing against her fur, tried to let it happen, let her slide into blackness in his embrace. But it wasn't that easy. He felt the futile breathing attempts under his tongue, the weaker heartbeat against his lips. And she held still in his deadly embrace. At first. But as her vision started to fade to blackness and her consciousness wavered, her instincts took over. A panic based on one thought alone. Live! And with a strength she wouldn't have thought she could summon she pushed the lion away, grabbed his jaws with her hands, trying to force her thumbs into his cheeks and ply them open. Her legs kicked aimlessly at first, then she managed to gathered them under him, gain leverage. A moment later she kicked hard.  The blow hit him in the stomach. He literally flew backwards, ripped away from Sylvias neck, small bits of her fur staying caught in his teeth.  The gazelle jumped to her feet ready to run, adrenalin pumping through her veins, shaking but her vision cleared. She was bleeding, red drops soaking from a wound on her neck through her fur. She touched it with her hand, felt the wetness and the pain of touch. But it was no dangerous wound, just a bit of skin missing.

Tarek fell on his back, slid a bit further, before gathering himself, coughing, getting on his feet holding his stomach where Sylvias hoof would leave a nice bruise. But he had her blood on his lips, a patch of skin dangling in his teeth. It tasted so sweet. But his expression was sad.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't..." he started.

Sylvia looked angry.

"No. I can't. I can't just hold still. My life is the one thing I cannot give you freely."

Her anger gave him his strength back.

"You know I have no choice! What should I do? Fight you? Pin you down and rip you apart?"

Sylvia looked into his predator eyes, saw the friendliness in them now, even the love behind the first deceiving look. But she could also see his hunger, his frustration and anger, too. And she knew she had to play that.

"What are you waiting for? We already started, bring it on lion cup!"

Adrenalin and an exaggerated heartbeat gave her both courage and strength enough she even momentarily believed the lion might not be up to it physically, aggravated by the throbbing pain in her neck. She hurt, she wanted to hurt him, too.

Tarek closed his eyes for a second. Did he realise she manipulated him? Did he care? As he opened them again his expression was fierce. "If you want it like that..." he scanned her body, instinct telling him the vulnerable parts. It was no different from a hunt. With a low growl he jumped, then pounced, trying to bring her down, his claws extended.

Sylvia saw him coming, made a swift graceful turn, kicking with her leg. She hit his flank, more or less in flyby, then came back to her feet, facing the lion. His claws had barely touched her.

Tarek landed, rolled of and sprung to his feet, letting out a frustrated roar, panting. This time he came slower. Sylvia made a couple of steps back, but in the enclosed space under the sleek arcades she couldn't get far. Two graceful jumps, and she brought the little fountain between them that stood right in the center, blocking Tareks direct approach. He slowed, checked his options, then jumped, high, landing in a crouched stance on the rim of the dish, facing the gazelle. She made a step back

"You can't run away here."

She smiled "You neither."

He jumped again, landing in front of her, saw her turn in the corner of his eyes, aimed ahead.

She saw him pounce, ducked, turning, trying to block his attack with her arms.  Tareks left claw hit only air, his right was thrust aside with a swift slash of Sylvias fist. Where did she learn to fight like that? For noble lion males like him military training was mandatory. But why would a noble gazelle daughter need fighting? He realized she must have taught herself for this very day. He turned, slashed again with his other claw, but she grabbed his wrist, pulling his arm further, too far. He lost balance, made a step forward, and promptly was hit in the back. He stumbled forward, then hit the fountain with a crash.  As he stood up, his shoulder hurt, blood trickled from a scratch on his cheek.  She stood calm. Almost too calm, waited till he was ready.  As he attacked again, he decided to treat her no longer as prey, but as an equal fighter.  This time he didn't pounce, instead he tried to grab her arm.  She hit his wrist. He slashed out for her belly, but her fist hit his temple first, made his ears ring. With brute force he pushed through her defense, and then, her elbow in front of his face shielding her neck, he lunged forward with his maw, grabbing her arm between her teeth like a bench vise. She screamed, tried to shake him of, hit him hard in the side. He tried to grab her but couldn't get a hold, frustrated he bit harder. Something cracked between his teeth, ripped, the taste of blood on his lips. Then something hard hit his head, and the world went black.

Sylvia had collapsed to the ground trembling, whimpering, holding her arm in disbelief. Below her elbow, open bone protruded, broken, blood flowing freely from severed muscles where her forearm had been. Her hand was gone, bitten of by the lion.

Tarek had been thrust through the air again, hit on the head by her hooves, and crashed backwards against one of the arcade pillars. Sylvias wrist dangled from between his fangs, but his eyes were closed. The gazelle wasn't sure if he was breathing. What if she killed him? That would mean war. His life was more important than hers.

But she needed to get her senses together. She felt weak, was bleeding, feared to loose conscience. Her garment had come loose, she wrapped it around her left arm, pulled it tight with her teeth until the feeling of that pulsing pain in her arm receded, the blood flow trickled down. Ignoring the nausea and dizziness, she got up to her knees, crouched over to where Tarek had fallen.  He was bleeding from a cut on his head, but his chest heaved slightly. He was just knocked out. She shuddered, seeing her own hand dangle from his jaws. In her mind she still felt it where it was supposed to be, on her arm, yet there it was, cold and lifeless on the floor. Nothing but meat for a predator. That's what she had started to become.

No, it wasn't just any predator, this one was special. He didn't want to kill her, respected her, loved her. It was her own actions that had made him attack her like that. She had wanted it. She thought of the consequences, how he might take her bit by bit, until nothing was left that could fight back. She shuddered again at the thought, but somehow she felt at ease with it. It was her fate to end like this, might he as well have all of her. Engulf her. She'd be a part of him.  Somehow she didn't mind that anymore. Was it because she loved him?

Steps were audible outside. The guard must have heard the battle noise they had made.

"Tarek, wake up, please. Someone is coming." Sylvia tried to lift him with her remaining arm, managed to pull him on her lap.

Tarek moaned, blinked, looking almost comical with the gazelle arm still stuck in his fangs, when the door burst open, guards storming in, swords, as well as bows with arrows pointed at Sylvia.

"What happened? What have you done?" Confused glances went over Sylvias severed arm, to her hand in Tareks maw, to the toppled over fountain and other traces of a fight. "My lord has been injured!"

The guards obviously had no clue what to do, didn't understand the situation.  Trembling arrow tips pointed at Sylvias head, but they didn't dare to shoot or approach with Tarek on her lap. "Step away from him! What have you done?"

Tarek opened his eyes fully, spotted the guardsmen. Slowly he took Sylvias hand out of his mouth, holding it in his paw, standing up, shaking, himself between the guards and Sylvia.

"You have no right to be here. I am to be left alone with her, you know that. Leave my quarters!" he said slowly but firmly.

"But Mylord, you are injured!" the guardsmen tried to defend himself.

"Its nothing, now out!" Tarek commanded.

Meanwhile an older lion had reached the door, coming in just as the guards started to retreat.

"Father..." Tarek bowed his head.

"Please excuse them intruding, they have been worried, but they had no right.  I will take disciplinary measures." he spotted Sylvia, her ripped arm in Tareks hand, while still bleeding from her neck wound. "Though I am shocked and surprised at what I see here. Hadn't we agreed dealing with this in a swift and painless way? What cruel games are you playing here Tarek?"

Tarek looked to the ground in shame, but Sylvia stood up, trembling, though her stance was firm. "My lord, I beg your pardon, but this is none of your business. I did not want a 'swift and painless way' and your son treated my wish with respect, you should feel honored, not shocked..."

The old lion looked from the injured gazelle to his bruised son, and back, speechless for a moment.

"Here you are, doomed, injured, half dead, and you still stand up to me to defend my sons actions, after he did this to you? I can only bow ashamed.  Guards!  Why are you still here, you were ordered out twice already!" The soldiers scuttled out. "I cannot spare your life, you know that. But rest assured I will get in contact with your father and let him gain any advantage that can be gained from a political alliance with lions. I have heard of the farce of your drawing ceremony and what you made of that. I can promise you, this, it won't have been in vain."

With those words he turned around and left with grief in his face. The big doors closing behind him with a thundering sound.

Tarek faced her, looked from her severed hand in his paw to her wound arm.

"I am sorry ... here, I didn't want to bite it off." he tried to give it back to her. She looked at it sadly.

"It's yours now. You took it, eat it, like you will eat the rest of me."

He looked at it, at her, then started, took the sleek fingers, now cold and lifeless, in his mouth, bit through her skin. Tears in his eyes. But he knew it was this taste he had secretly longed for since he first smelled her. He was a lion, she was a gazelle. He was predator, she his prey.

Weird, confused feelings crashed within Sylvias mind. The horror of realising he was eating her hand there mixed with a feeling of longing. She wanted him on her, wanted him to take her, all of her. Forever. And its realisation shocked her as much as it turned her on.

Eventually Tarek finished, licked the last drops of blood from his lips. Then he came towards Sylvia again, with an almost begging face expression.

She fought him again, but less, let him win, panting heavily, looked at his maw as he pinned her to the ground, anticipated him to dig his fangs into her.  But he only licked her, played his rough tongue over her trembling body, over her breasts, over her belly. That soft meat bulging so tenderly under a thin layer of skin seemed to fascinate Tarek more than all else. Sylvia gasped as she felt his teeth. But he knew it was too early. Further down waited the meaty flesh of her thighs, there he directed his tongue, waited for her to shudder and arch. Then he dug in, held her hip down as she screamed, her remaining arm flailing. He looked at her, wanted to see her face, blood dripping from his fangs. She looked back, fear in her eyes, but also longing.  Whimpering first she gasped as he sniffed gently over her sex, nearing her other thigh. Then he pinned her down forcefully again as he used all his strength to sever her leg, staying behind, twitching. A flow of blood coming from its stump. Her scream echoed somewhere in the distance.  It hurt his ears, hurt deep within. But the taste made up for it.  He knew had to stop the blood flow, or she would die within minutes. A piece ripped from the blood speckled sheets below, rolled into a string, bound around her leg stopped the pulsing leak. Sylvia trembled, whimpering, but she didn't fall unconscious. Was that even a smile in her face? Crawling over her, he tugged her severed leg with him, laid on top of her while digging into the warm tender meat, then gave her a sweet kiss, her blood still on her lips. He felt her shudder underneath him, her remaining arm stroking his back. Cracking his jaws severed her calves, her hoof dangling from them in front of her face. And whispering he heard her voice. "It's all for you, for you alone." Tarek nodded, tears in his eyes, gave her another kiss, then went down again to look after her other leg. He felt her shudder, trembling as he bit into her ass, piercing the tender skin. She arched weakly as he dug his claw into her sex.  He stroke her strongly, faster and faster to distract her, then bit her other leg off. She screamed again but less. More an exhausted whine.  Picking her mauled body up, she was much lighter than before, breathing weakly, stroking his chest fur gently as he moved her on top of himself, turning on his back. Feeling her need for it, he penetrated her again, grabbed her at the waist and pushed her up and down on top of him, as she couldn't do so anymore herself. Her head rested on his shoulder, breathing weakly. But with her arm she embraced him, lovingly.

Finally he came, into her, shuddering. She licked the blood from his lips, he nibbled her neck with his fangs. Then he turned her around once more, licked her belly another time. Soon, soon he'd open her, but first... She moaned weakly as his rough tongue licked her sex, but he didn't stop there. Sucking her clit he shoved his entire lower jaw into her, blood trickling from the tiny scratches his teeth made, his tongue sucking it up eagerly. Gently squeezing her, his upper jaw from outside, his lower from thin inside, nibbling, he milked her sex, sucking, his tongue playing, until her whimpers had turned to short moans, her body was shaking from pleasure as well as shock.  Then as she arched and released a load of cum into his mouth he bit through. A bone cracking, tissue severing. A long moan of both pleasure and agony escaped her shuddering body as he sucked the sweet juices mixed with blood one last time, then gulped her most sensitive spot down, liquids flowing from the gaping hole.

She only moaned slightly as he pulled her closer, digging his fangs into her insides. Almost gently he dug a singly claw into her belly skin, ripped her open and pushed her skin aside as if it was just a layer of clothing. In front of him were her innards, still warm, twitching, living. Her body trembling from pain shock and afterglow. But he knew he had to hurry, she wouldn't be with him much longer.

She felt his snout inside her, dig between her innards. There was surprisingly little pain. She felt it, but it was as if pain just didn't hurt anymore.  Something in her ripped, giving way to his vicious fangs. A gust of blood forced its way up into her mouth as he emerged with her stomach, as if it was a trophy. Her belly felt emptied, void, cold, she almost hoped for him to dig back in just to fill the void. Spitting out the blood she gasped, her lungs barely obeying her command, when she felt him enter her chest, his claws digging in her shoulders, pulling to hold her in place.

Tarek took her heart between his fangs gently. It bulged, like a terrified bird trying to flee his deadly grip. Carefully caressing it with his tongs he aligned his fangs right, then he bit through and pulled back. Sylvia cramped, arched, bulged, unable to scream yet trying to, her molested body attempting to fight the inevitable, then after a shudder she relaxed again, the pain receding.

His maw open, he crouched over her. She could see her own heart still beating in his fangs, but in herself she felt no more heartbeat. Just a coldness slowly crouching up inside her, engulfing all of her. Seeing her vision fade, she attempted to whisper.  "promise me.... don't leave anything .. of me ..  behind"

Tarek gulped down, swallowed her heart whole, still twitching and bumping on its way down. "I promise! There will be nothing left but your bones. No one else shall touch you."

As Sylvia died, she had a smile on her lips. Soon she knew she'd be part of him. If there ever had been a good way to die, that must have been the only one ...

Tarek ate the rest of her. Everything. Opened every bone to lick out the soft insides, opened her skull, too,  to leave nothing behind than white clean bones.  When the servants arrived to help prepare them for the return there was nothing for them to do but place them on red velvet in a casket.

----

It was a bright sunny day. On of those, where the atmosphere is so crisply clear and over bright, that it seems a tiny bit unreal, and you need to clench your eyes to not get blinded. 

The honorary procession that brought the casket with the ladies bones was led by Tarek and his father, lord of Atride himself. A complete squad of honorary guards was following. Surprisingly enough, waiting for them was a similarly equipped group of gazelle soldiers, and Lord Melnar was among them, looking ten years older than he had before. He was visibly touched by the majestic layout of the procession, but kept his tears back, as lord Atride approached him and personally declared an official invitation, allowing the gazelle lord to come to the lion town personally, bringing with him merchants and envoys alike.  No one could say then what the future would bring, but it felt like a historic event, like a new beginning. Who knew, maybe Sylvias sacrifice would even cause the negotiation of a new treaty...

----

the end