Leta: "Wait (For)", "Guard", "Expect", "Anticipate" [N. Sotho]
Pride Affiliation: Shard Pride
Voice Actor: TBA
Relations: Forced mate to Mol˘ra
; father to Kunguru
Here's what GreatMarta has to say about him:
"Like all male cubs in the Shard pride, Leta was placed under the supervision of a trainer - a cruel lioness whose job was to brainwash the males, to strip them off their individuality and will. Leta rebelled - oh yes, he did. How many times he jumped at his trainer, aiming for her throat? He was so furious he lost the count. What he knew is that the female - who was bigger and stronger than him - always won. She always saw through his intentions and she always punished him - oh so severely.
Whatever mind was there in the young lion's body, it all got lost in the vast ocean of anger and anxiety. Leta still wanted to rebel. Deep in heart he dreamed of revenge. But his body had different priorities. Whenever the young male felt like raising his paw at a female, his paws suddenly turned to stone. Whenever he felt like ripping a female's throat, his jaws clenched so strongly it hurt. He no longer could do anything against his owners' will. His body was no longer his. He was a Shard male and he shall remain one for the rest of his life.
Leta was often placed in battles against other males and females. When he heard the comment "fight", his claws would come out before he intended them to. When he heard the command "kill", his opponent would be dead before he could process what the order was really about. Only long after the battle was over could Leta reflect on it, if he remembered anything worth reflecting upon. Not much information could make its way through the vast ocean of his anger and anxiety. At the end of the day, nothing mattered all that much.
One day Leta was placed in battle against yet another female. He did not realize who he was fighting against until he had given the lioness a scar over her eye. The new Queen. THE Mol˘ra. Everything in his body screamed "Take cover!" and take cover he did.
The Queen - to his surprise - had fear in her eyes. Was she afraid of him? Afraid of somebody she sees as little more than dirt? Or was he seeing things? Probably the latter, for the female then attacked him again. He came out of the battle with new scars, but it didn't matter all that much. The Queen declared she was taking him as her breeder. He belonged to her now.
His mind was confused, oh so confused. But his body knew what to do. Thoughtlessly, Leta followed Mol˘ra. And follow her he always shall from now on. Whatever she said he did. And when she said "Give me cubs!" it was also what he did. Well, what he tried to do, for the Queen seemed to have problems conceiving. And she blamed him. "Breed!" she roared, and he obeyed. Cursing her in the sole island of whatever sanity he had left, he loathed her. He loathed all females. But he loathed Mol˘ra most of all.
When his mate finally produced a cub, and the cub was male, Leta felt a great deal of satisfaction. "In your face, bitch!" he wanted to scream. "You destroyed my life and now my son shall destroy yours."
Mol˘ra left the cub with his father as soon as he was weaned. "You cursed me with this demon, he is your responsibility now!" she roared. And Leta looked after the boy, just like she told him too. His son was dark-pelted, almost pitch black. And his eyes, those mismatched eyes. The eyes his mother and everybody around saw as a bad omen. Leta loved them. He secretly did. Anything that hurt females was good in his own wicked eyes. So he bore no ill will towards his son. He knew the boy would have to leave the pride when he grew up, so he prepared him for that. Little words, lots of action. Little Kunguru only got to know his father as a teacher, as a skilled warrior. For Leta knew better than to speak his heart. He could never say what he really wanted to say. So he remained silent, unless spoken to.
And then Kunguru was gone - his beautiful son, his very own avenger, gone. Leta found peace in knowing his descendants will live free from the tyranny of the gray-pelted bitches. In the meantime, he had to fulfill his duty to the kingdom and give his Queen a daughter. Oh yes, a daughter he will give her. One that will destroy her.
Leta knew his mate for way too long not to notice who she really was. A liar. A weakling. So much fear and anxiety in her eyes, so much hesitation in her movements. Leta was trained to spot weakness in his enemies, so the subtle signs given by his mate never escaped his attention. It all made him loathe her even more. His pride loathed weakness. He loathed weakness. And this coward was his master, his Queen. It sickened him to have to obey her. It sickened him that his own body listened to her words more than to his will. But yes, a daughter he will give her. And a daughter from his blood shall be strong, a true Queen, a tyrant that will make her mother burn in shame.
A daughter is born to them eventually, and she is everything her father wanted her to be. Cunning, cruel, ruthless, all her mother pretended to be herself. And, just as Leta foresaw - time came when Itshŕka rebelled against her mother. Mol˘ra ran away, with tears in her eyes and her tail between her legs. She now suffered. Not as much as Leta had to suffer all his life, but pain is pain. It'll have to do. The old Consort retreated, believing he will now finally rest in peace. He was no longer the Royal Breeder. He had to step down.
But his body had different plans.
Leta did not realize where his paws were taking him, until a familiar scent hit his nose. Owner. Find owner. Her name roared in his blood, making him wish he was deaf. He will not get to be free. For so many years he belonged to her and his body still recognized her as his owner. He loathed her, he really did. But - for crying out loud - his place was where she was and there was no chance of changing it.
He found her. Weakened, eyes red with tears. He felt no compassion, only contempt. This weakling was his Queen? This miserable excuse for a lioness brought his cubs to world? Oh please.
But she saw him, and there was hope, so much hope in her eyes. She came to him. She looked into his eyes. And she broke into tears again, hiding her ashamed face in his mane. How he wanted to smack her. To tell her to get a grip. How dare she act like she was the victim, when it was he whose life was a nightmare? Because of her?
But he did nothing. He could never hurt a female, no matter how much he wanted to. He was an old lion, too old to change. He will do what he always has - follow his owner and defend her, until they both leave this world. For he knew now - they shall leave this world together. And then, they shall finally be free.
Leta was designed for me by GreatMarta. He's a pretty one, but he's quite the study in dichotomy. He hates the females for being cruel and domineering, yet hates his wife for being less than that -- seeing her as not a true Queen. What a messed up guy he is!
See the original:
Design and story ę GreatMarta
Leta and all art ę me.
Please do not copy, alter, trace, or reproduce in any way, shape, or form without written permission from me. Thank you.