the elephant king

The Elephant watched the fractured eyes and broken face of the Frozen Light— watched darkness creep across it as his trembling continued. Is that what shadows looked like when they closed on his own face? Lips pressed tighter, jaw clenched harder, as he watched and waited— an angry and rigid mountain to Mauja’s trembling, ice-dusted branches.

The silence stretched long, muscles twitched through the King’s thick neck as they grew tired of holding out his heavy head and horn for so lengthy a time. But, still, he did not move or talk; though his burning eyes did not fade in their intense stare.

But he lost the cracked, blue ice to white eyelids delicately speckled in black— and the man was still trembling. A small sigh pushed passed his lips; he had given up for an answer from this wrecked man. Ears tilted back, head began to withdraw— but then the snow leopard was edging towards him, quaking with wobbling steps.

The giant, without hesitation or second thought, took the spotted head over his back. His black chest pushed forward to meet the spotted one, his own thick neck slipping over shoulders more slender than his own, great skull resting heavily on the spotted, satin back. It was a firm embrace— firmer than any he’d given the Frozen.

“I love you.”

Silence. Shock. Surprise. His body tensed, his ears perked, splayed, and then tilted back. Nostrils flared, breathing in this shattered man, while his neck tightens against him. Thick black lips opened and closed, but no words came. Only raised brows, creased eyes, and astounded mind. Why? How? The Elephant was not worthy of love, was he? The bleary, newborn eyes of his son flashed through his skull.

“You love me?” he echoed, shock and disbelief thick in his deep voice. “I took your throne when you were weak,” though his friend had asked him to, to Tembovu it still felt as though he had taken advantage of a grieving father, “I attacked you when you tried to help me, I denied the only request you asked of me…” his rumble fades as his head shifted, muzzle brushing the man’s silken hide as his horn slipped over the muscled, snowy back. Its sharp tip aimed to rest in the soft, downy flank, black edge nestled amid black spots.

A thousand thoughts raced through the Elephant’s Kings mind. And, at the same moment, only one came to fruition. “Do you—” his hoarse rumble faltered, voice lacking it usual strength, “Do you still want—” oh, how the great Elephant stumbled, “—still want me to… to kill you?” the question ended quietly, cracking and dry. Navy eyes fell to the earth, bursting with new life from Birdsong.

Would Mauja’s death give him new life? Is that what he wanted? What he needed? A deep and steadying breath expanded his slabbed sides, “I can do that for you, Mauja,” his voice was steadier, firmer, now. Slowly, as if asking for permission, his body began to draw away from the Frozen, beginning to shift so that his great horn might plunge deep into his chest.