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“Demeter?” He called, voice like honey and words like poison. She wanted nothing more than to watch that horrid mangy coat rot and burn. Burn for what it had done to her, to her friends, to so many innocent cats. She hated it, hated the coat, hated everything about the demon parading around in a feline-shape.
“Come now, this is so terribly immature.” It said, patronizing in tone and malicious in meaning. “A queen does not hide from her mate.”
She breathed only when she had to, as silently as she could. She could not let him find her, she refused. She would not suffer his torment tonight. But he did. He always did.
His claw wrapped around her throat and his menacing eyes stared deeply into her petrified ones. “You know what the punishment is for immaturity.” The monster spoke softly, in that pitiless voice she hated. And as he beat her, her hate grew.
But she had loved him. And he had loved her, once. Now he was her captor. Now he was a monster.
“Demeter?” That smooth voice, as rich as any king and as comforting as a warm blanket, sent her heart fluttering even now. Even now, she couldn’t rightly see what she’d done to deserve such a voice in her life.
“Demeter, are you all right?” He asked, and she nodded as best she could, curling a bit more into his arms. “Don’t worry. It was only a nightmare.”
She breathed in his scent, letting it wash over her and reassure her. It was comforting, calming. Safe. That’s how she would describe him. Safe.
He held her a little tighter and he placed his chin atop her head, purring a low and protective purr. “He won’t have you ever again.” He said softly, in that low and warm voice that she had come to adore. And as he held her, her fear withdrew.
And she thinks she loves him. He was her knight. He was as gentle as a spring breeze and as tender as a fairytale kiss.
“Mum?” He called, voice small, timid, and weak. He was just a kit, not even a tom, and he was so innocent. She nearly jumped when he came up alongside her, pressing into her flank. He looked so much like his father- she knew he got wary glances when he walked, how some of the others stood or sat just a little more tensely when he was about.
“I heard you yell last night.” He said, and she smiled and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Everything all right?”
She breathed deeply, deciding not to tell him more than she had to then. He was too young to know. She wished she could never tell him.
She felt him lean into her flank and nuzzle her shoulder. He was so large now- nearly as big as Munkustrap. “I’ll protect you. I’m gonna help Dad protect everyone.” He swore quietly, probably hoping she hadn’t heard. She didn’t want him in danger, after all. But as he said it and as they sat in the sun, she felt her unease begin to melt a little more.
But can she love him, this kit that looks so much like her captor but acts so much like her knight? She should be able to. He was her son, a mother loves her son. But can she?