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Queen Nyra had always been known for her ferocity. As a younger owl queen she had led her army from the front, her consort Kludd at her side, his great wings flashing white at the edge of her considerable range of vision, his helmet glinting darkly in whatever light might be available. Powerful he was and always had been, and dedicated to his queen. Their silent flight had been their perennial opening gambit in war, prior to the piercing of their sharp, predatory talons into the backs of their enemies. They were as deadly as a fall of fresh snow, she had often privately thought. Beautiful, silent and relentless.

It was a ferocity that did not need to be broadcast, so they did not, and Nyra had always believed they were stronger warriors for it. So many ferocious leaders had war cries. Not so this army. Why screech when it might galvanize the opposition? It made no sense to her and the natural owl talent for silence was one she was proud to possess.

However, a leader who worked so hard deserved the downtime she most desired, and Nyra's favourite past-time was to eat. No, not to eat - the eating was the means by which she fulfilled her desire - but more specifically to be fed. After a bloody and violent day in battle she and Kludd would often bond over dinner. It reminded them of their mutual tenderness and together, they adored the ritual. Kludd would feed her, a token amount at first but over time it evolved. Later he would take to feeding her a good portion from his own plate, picking up morsels with his beak and delivering it to her own, her eyes half-closed in bliss, her beak half-open and ready to receive. Over time she became more and more entranced by the act and made her adoration clear to Kludd with quiet squeaks of pleasure and lingering with him over their meals. It fulfilled a part of her that she would not have been able to explain even if she had felt inclined to explain herself in any capacity at all, for a monarch had no need to explain herself. A mere smattering of morsels was no longer enough, so he began to feed her the food from her own plate instead of leaving her to feed herself.

So tender. So blissful. The almost-inaudible clack of his beak against hers with each delivery. The taste of vole meat, so much more delicious for being given to her. His gentle breath that sounded so intimate when he dipped close, and the occasional brush of his feathers, ruffled from so many battle scars, against her own.

Her love of being fed meant she ate more and more, and she began to gain weight. She knew this but did not mind, and neither did Kludd, for he appeared to love feeding her too. She saw the warmth in his eyes as he drew close, beakful by beakful, and she knew that he felt as much love as she did. Such a contrast to his cold warrior-stare. She loved to be privy to it. Perhaps Kludd loved to see her tenderness too, this lethal warrior queen.

And then... and then they'd had a brief spell of awkwardness between them, something the fearsome Queen Nyra had not experienced before.

It'd lasted around three weeks. Kludd had taken to feeding her so much from his and her plates that little was left over for him. In her bliss she had not spotted this at first, but a warrior had to eat and her special warrior was going without. Perhaps she was simply not used to nurturing another and revelling only in his nurturing of her, but the result was that she had driven him to begin eating in secret before or after their meals.

To do that, Kludd had had to steal away from her side. His sneaking about had had a furtive quality much at odds with what she'd always known of him. Nyra had never been prone to the sensation of a broken heart but his desertion had worried her. Finally it had flustered her too much and she brought it up in a conversation.

xXx

Nyra and Kludd finished the night's meal in the dark and woody-smelling confines of the ancient oak tree that served as their meal-hall, she satiated and feeling plump with mouse meat, and he... vaguely distracted, somehow. She had seen it lately, this distraction, this other-whereness, and it had to stop. He is my mate and I must solve the mystery. I will get to the bottom of this.

"Shall we retire, my love?" she asked quietly, her eyes in deep contact with his own, a slight coo in her voice.

He cooed appreciatively in his love-softened yet always-rough voice, but again it sounded... off, somehow. As if he was acting. Nyra knew fake emotion when she heard it - monarchs had to be aware of deception always, especially monarchs who were their own generals. She listened for his next words.

He groomed the corner of her beak, perhaps to tidy it of a streak of blood. "Retire... Ah yes, perhaps we shall sit in the beech by the barley field," he suggested.

The barley field. At this time of the high summer the barley was grown to full height but not yet golden. It would sway in the night's breeze and the field at large would ripple in a hypnotic rhythm, shining a little in the moonlight and calming two owls who desired to relax. Perhaps they would talk together, perhaps sit in silence. It did not matter; the time spent together in mute appreciation of beauty was the goal.

"Yes," she whispered. Perhaps at some time in the evening Kludd would swoop down and catch prey and feed it to her.

He ducked so that he could nuzzle her developing chin. "I will meet you there. I must first speak with Captain Rass."

Nyra almost asked 'Why?', but she stopped herself for she already knew the answer. On the face of it, Kludd would need to discuss Rass' recent difficulties with managing a wayward yet promising new recruit. Since she had gained so much weight Nyra was no longer the leader-from-the-front she had been in her earliest youth. Now Kludd ran errands for her that involved travel, and Rass' hollow was a semi-distant flight from the royal feeding quarters.

Yes, on the face of it, Kludd had an errand to run. Underneath it however, Kludd wanted to leave her side for his own reasons. It broke Nyra's enjoyment of the evening and if she had been the type to admit such things to herself, would have said it made her feel sad.

"Yes, my love," she answered, taking to a spot of acting herself to appear heedless of the lie. "I will wait for you by the barley."

He had reserved one last look of love for her - Deceitful, she accused in her mind. And yet, how could she bear to call such tenderness deceitful? - and hopped up onto the edge of the great oak bough. She watched as he spread his pale wings and flapped away until he was out of sight, and prepared to fly the short distance to the beech. For she could still fly, albeit with difficulty.

Finally, under the light of an almost-full moon that coloured everything blue and charcoal and silver, Nyra's mate joined her and landed on the branch next to her, edging his talons along until the folded shoulder of his wing brushed her own.

"Where did you go?" she asked, settling her body against his but unable to make her mind follow suit.

He paused. "You know where I went, my love."

She turned her head to look at him and deliberately refrained from making her gaze too piercing. "Where did you really go?"

He looked at her then, visibly taken aback. He fluffed up his feathers but did not take flight. And then he sighed and allowed them to lay flat again. "My love." There were more words in his meaning than his choice of phrase. Nyra already knew it was his way of acknowledging her astuteness. Or perhaps the unspoken words were ones of regret.

"Tell me the truth," she stated, their eyes locked as if in battle. A loving yet sad and fearful battle. How is one to win this? How does one back down from it? She did not know.

"I had to eat," he said simply.

At first Nyra was confused. "But we have eaten already." And then the reality of the situation dawned on her. "Oh."

He looked at her with determination, perhaps as if he expected a battle, but he said nothing more.

"Kludd, you have not been eating. Not at our meal times," she breathed, and bent close to groom the edge of his moon-like face, her way of offering apology. "How could I not realise?"

Kludd relaxed and she groomed him more deeply, relieved beyond measure to know the reason for his deceit.

"We must make amends," she continued.

"We must," he answered, turning to face her once again so that he could look into her eyes with the greatest sincerity. "And our rituals will remain as they always have."

"There will be more mice?" she asked, excited at first, for more food would mean more feeding, but she quickly understood the ramifications. He would feed her more and remain hungry once again. "No, the solution must be different."

"You are right, my love."

"Do you have a proposition?" she asked.

xXx

This was how they came to this point in time, to be looking at these candidates. Nyra re-settled her talons on her perch as she tilted her head and examined the pair of short-eared owls before her. They looked suitably submissive - just as she liked her subjects - and seemed agreeable enough in personality.

She paced a little, eager to impress upon them a vision of her bulk, the sinuous strength in her wings, her majesty. "My senechal has told me your names. Skitt and Han, you are welcome. You will have been informed of your duties, but I will reiterate them for you."

Kludd had offered her his suggestion. At first she had felt a sinking in her heart. Their feeding ritual had been an intimate one and she wished she had not unwittingly cornered herself into admitting strangers to take part. However, that was how events had turned, and Kludd had so badly needed succour. She could not deny him so she, the queen of the barn owls, had decided to give his suggestion a fair try. She took a breath and continued. "You will be domestics, employed only in the early evenings. You will be punctual, for you are required to be present at every royal evening meal time.

"I require of you to feed me until I ask of you to stop, and then to leave my consort and I in peace. That is all." She turned to face them, her legs strong despite the great weight they supported these days. "Do you have any questions or concerns?"

Skitt glanced at Han, but Han apparently did not dare to return the gaze. "I have no questions, my queen," he said with a respectful bow.

She nodded, and cast a subtly enquiring glance at Han.

He shifted his own talons uncomfortably. "I have one question, your highness. I understand you asked for non-barn owls for this task and I am happy - no, honoured - to serve you. Are we now subjects of yours, along with the barn owl kin?"

The question was a good one, but one of the complications of her and Kludd's proposed new arrangement. Both had agreed that they did not want barn owls for the task, and to have other, smaller species instead. Having a different owl species would help keep a cultural barrier between Nyra and Kludd, and their assistants, and that would help keep their time together special. Smaller owls would offer no physical threat when the royal couple's battle defences were down. But it raised a political question: did the new owls have barn owl kinship for being in the employ of the royal pair, or were they to be seen as foreigners in barn owl territory? It would not be fair to insist that they remain legal foreigners, even ones with diplomatic immunity. They had agreed to extend kinship to the assistants.

"You will become barn owl kin, and will be welcomed by my subjects," she said with a gracious bow.

xXx

Nyra felt nervous as she entered her and Kludd's feeding quarters and waited for her servants to bring in the first mice and voles or whatever they had managed to catch, but she kept this a closely-guarded secret. She kept her wings strong and still, her claws firm, not flapping, not fidgeting. However, she offered Kludd one warm look and saw that he too was nervous. The scarred warrior had always been so good at hiding his nerves. But not from her, not from her...

The sound of barn owl talons on rotten wood sounded around the corner and Minchen, the most senior of her servants and a most excellent hunter, approached with a vole. Without a word he deposited it on the small dais from which Nyra and Kludd ate, bowed, and left, his fawn-and-grey mottled back straight.

His task, as always, was to hunt and retrieve. Not to feed.

She listened, but did not hear, the instruction that he must have given Skitt and Han in turn. Perhaps they had pre-agreed that he would simply nod at them when it was time for them to enter, or they would take his retreat from the royal feeding room as he passed by them in the tunnel as their signal.

Either way they came humbly in, Skitt leading the less-confident Han. Skitt hesitated and then seemed to commit himself, then hopped up onto the feeding dais. He pinned the vole down with one small foot, pulled a section of fur off the little body and tore off a strip of meat. He stretched up and offered it to Nyra, his eyes lowered in deference.

She leaned forward and took it, aware of her every movement and how it might be interpreted. She did not want this process to have undue intimacy - that was something she treasured with Kludd only - but she wanted so very much to be fed. And... truly, this feeding process could not be without intimacy, for that was precisely why she had taken to it in the first place. But she would not make eye contact unless necessary, she would not coo or purr in appreciation of Skitt or Han's efforts, she would not nibble fragments of meat off the corners of their beaks. She would do these things only with Kludd - and the end of her feeding session, when he took over, would be all the more loving for it.

Perhaps she would develop a sense of mutual tenderness with Skitt and Han, but she would have to consider how to do that without making her relationship with Kludd less precious.

She avoided catching Skitt's gaze also to avoid intimidating him, and paid no attention to Minchen as he returned with a second rodent for Kludd. The warrior clamped his foot on it to tear off a piece for himself, and in this way, ate it slowly as Skitt and Nyra became acquainted with the task of feeding.

Nyra's vole was soon reduced to nothing but a few hairs, and Skitt retreated to clean himself. Minchen, who had evidently been listening or watching from the shadows, soon arrived with a mouse. He left it on the dais and retreated. This time it was Han who stepped up.

Han had evidently watched his colleague's approach and decided to improve on it. Or perhaps he'd fed others before at some point. His delivery was smoother, more... loving, somehow, but in a way that seemed appropriate. He crowed very quietly at the back of his throat in response to some signal from her that she became abstractly aware of, and Nyra allowed this to continue for a few mouthfuls as she deliberated over whether or not it was acceptable. She found it difficult to decide so looked at Kludd to judge his opinion.

Kludd looked vaguely stern about this so on her next mouthful she looked into Han's eyes. She paused, each of them holding an opposite end of this latest strip of meat. He stopped in response and looked at her lovingly - and then warily.

I am not angry, was her message, but No.

He nodded - a tiny bow of acknowledgement - and let go of his end of the strip.

The mouse was nearly finished when Nyra decided to sit up and decide how full she felt. She took the opportunity to verbalise some of the thoughts in her head. "Han," she said with a little prim warmth - the way she'd often found worked when speaking semi-informally to her servants. "You feed like you are used to it. Tell me - have you fed before?"

He bowed before he spoke. "Yes, my queen. I have had two clutches of owlets with a third on the way." He spoke with a kind of humble pride that she found so endearing that she fluffed up her feathers before she'd realized what she'd done.

She decided to go with the feeling. "Oh, how charming! You feed very well!" Then, aware that Skitt may be fearing for his own prowess, she sought him out too. "Skitt, will you approach please?" She thought about his performance as he approached so that she could compliment him too, although Han had been her favourite.

He stood on the far side of the dais, for Han already occupied the space.

"Your polite manner was very much appreciated, Skitt. Thank you for your show of respect. Kludd and I will discuss taking you both on permanently this evening. Now, please excuse yourselves and I will speak to you on the morrow."

THE END.