Chapter Text
He was back here again.
His footsteps rang out, sharp and hollow, echoing through the vast halls of the Lynxley manor. Each step struck the cold marble, the chill biting into his aching paw pads like knives. The sound felt too loud, too exposed, as if the walls themselves were listening.
Tears streamed down his face as he ran, chest tight, breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He just needed somewhere—anywhere—safe. A corner, a room, a shadow deep enough to hide in. Somewhere he could finally get away.
“Pawbert~!”
The voice drifted down the hall behind him, drawn out and sing-song, reverberating off the stone walls like an ominous siren call.
Pawbert froze for half a heartbeat. His breath hitched, fear seizing him whole, before instinct took over and he bolted again.
Why couldn’t his brother just leave him alone?
He veered left into another hallway, paws skidding slightly on the polished floor. To any other adult, these halls would have been simple to navigate—straightforward, familiar. But not for him. Everything here was too big, too long, too overwhelming.
As the runt, only 8 years old, with tears blurring his vision and his heart pounding painfully in his chest, the manor felt endless. Twisting. Suffocating. These halls might as well have been a labyrinth.
He turned another corner—
And a fast gray blur slammed into him.
The impact knocked the breath from his lungs as he was tackled to the ground, pinned beneath a weight he couldn’t shake, paws trapped, escape impossible.
It was his sister.
She giggled, bright and delighted, as she held him down, clearly savoring his helplessness.
“Catrick!” she called out, voice ringing with triumph. “I caught him!”
Pawbert struggled, squirming and twisting with everything he had, but her grip didn’t loosen. She held him firmly, determined to make him suffer.
“Quit moving, runt!” she snarled, baring her fangs at him.
Soon enough, his brother arrived—
carrying a pair of kitchen scissors.
Catrick’s eyes glinted with unmistakable glee at the sight of Pawbert pinned and helpless. He lifted the scissors in his paw and snapped them open and shut, the sharp snip slicing through the air with malicious intent.
“I think he needs a cut,” Kittie declared brightly.
“No! No, please!” Pawbert screamed, thrashing with everything he had. Panic surged through him, but his sister’s grip never loosened.
Catrick smiled, slow and cruel. “Don’t be scared, Pawbert. Just a little bit off the sides.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe your ear tuffs need to go?”
As his brother stepped closer with the scissors, Pawbert’s breath spiraled out of control. He began to hyperventilate, legs flailing wildly in useless desperation.
“Now don’t move too much,” Catrick ordered coolly. “We don’t wanna lose a whole ear, don’t we?”
The metal touched him—cold and unforgiving. More tears spilled from Pawbert’s eyes as he broke into uncontrollable sobs against the floor.
“Why are you crying?” Kittie asked, her voice sharp with mockery. “You don’t need these ear tuffs! You’re not a Lynxley! You’re barely a Lynx at all!”
Catrick let out a cruel giggle at his sister’s joke. He bent closer to his sobbing little brother, carefully positioning the sharp edges against the small tufts of fur on Pawbert’s ear.
Pawbert stopped struggling.
He went still, his body slack beneath them, choosing instead to shut down completely—waiting for his brother to just get it over with.
“Children?”
The sudden voice echoing from farther down the hall made all three young Lynxes freeze.
Their mother stood ahead in the hallway, confusion etched across her face as she took in the scene before her. Her eyes dropped to Pawbert, meeting his tear-filled gaze.
Her sudden appearance caused Kittie’s hold to loosen just enough.
Pawbert didn’t hesitate.
He scrambled to his feet and ran, stumbling into his mother as he clutched desperately at her skirt, claws digging into the fabric. He buried his face against her, his tears soaking into her leg as his small body shook.
A soft paw settled gently atop his head—an all-too-familiar gesture.
Warmth spread through his trembling form, and slowly, his breathing began to calm.
“What were you doing to your little brother?” Their mother asked.
The question was directed at her older kits, who immediately made an effort to look as innocent as possible.
“We were just playing with him!” Catrick declared quickly.
“With a pair of scissors?” She glared directly at her eldest son.
Kittie rushed to his defense. “We weren’t gonna hurt him!”
Their mother remained unconvinced.
“What were you planning on doing then?” she demanded.
The two eldest kits opened their mouths, but no clear answer came.
Summoning a fragile surge of courage, Pawbert spoke instead.
“T-they were gonna cut off my ear tuffs,” he whimpered through his tears. “They said I wasn’t a Lynx and I don’t need them!”
A heavy, pregnant pause settled over the hall.
Then their mother spoke—her voice sharp, pointed, and unmistakably angry.
She fixed her eldest son with a heated glare, the kind only a mother could give when her patience had been completely exhausted.
“Catrick Lynxley,” she snapped, “take your sister back to the kitchen, return those scissors where you found them, and go back to your rooms this instant—or so help me, I will ground both of you for a month!”
Her voice echoed through the halls, amplified by maternal fury.
Without another word, and clearly fearing her wrath, Catrick pocketed the scissors and grabbed his sister by the paw, dragging her away.
Kittie wasn’t finished, however. She cast one last venomous sneer over her shoulder at Pawbert before muttering quietly, “Snitch.”
It wasn’t quiet enough.
“What was that, young lady?” their mother demanded.
Before Kittie could react, Catrick tugged her forward and pushed her ahead, making sure to keep her out of their mother’s sight.
“N-nothing, Mom!” he answered nervously, before the two disappeared down another hallway.
As their footsteps faded into the distance, Pawbert finally allowed himself to breathe. He drew in slow, shaky breaths, forcing his lungs to match the uneven rhythm of his hiccupping sobs. His face remained pressed into his mother’s leg, clinging to her as if letting go might cause everything to fall apart again. He sought comfort wherever he could find it, and right now, this was all he needed.
Once more, he felt the gentle weight of a maternal paw settle atop his head.
Pawbert lifted his face slowly, eyes burning and wet, and looked up at her. Their gazes met—eyes that always seemed to shine when he saw them, full of warmth and understanding. A soft, familiar smile curved across her face, the kind that always brought him peace, no matter how frightened he had been moments before.
“There, there,” she cooed softly, her voice low and soothing.
She leaned down and gathered him into her arms.
Without thinking, Pawbert began to purr, the sound faint at first, then growing steadier as her paw cradled his small, fragile head. She tucked him securely against the crook of her neck, holding him close. Soon, he could hear her purring too—deep and steady—blending with the sound of her heart as it drummed a calm, reassuring rhythm against his ear.
The gentle harmony of those sounds wrapped around him, easing the tight knot in his chest. His own heartbeat slowed, matching hers, soothed by the familiar cadence. He always felt safe with her. Always.
Still nestled in her arms, he felt her begin to move. Pawbert didn’t care where they were going. As long as she was there, holding him like this, he knew everything would be okay.
He let his eyes close, surrendering to the steady beat of her heart, and allowed himself to drift in its comforting rhythm.
Soon, he heard a door open. Pawbert managed to crack his eyes open just a little, enough to see where his mother had brought him.
It was her study.
Shelves lined with books filled one side of the room, their spines packed tightly together in quiet order. Beside them stood a piano, its polished surface catching the firelight, and next to it, a harp rested gracefully, its strings glimmering faintly.
Her study doubled as a music studio. Pawbert often sought her out in this room, knowing there was always a good chance he would hear her playing the piano—or, if he was lucky, see her perform a song with the harp.
He cherished the way she played those instruments. He loved it when she sang.
Every book and instrument was bathed in the warm glow of a fireplace tucked into the corner, the flames casting a cozy halo of orange light that softened every edge of the room.
Pawbert felt his mother move closer to the fire. Still holding him, she sat down on an ornate chair, settling both of them near the gentle warmth radiating from the hearth.
“Pawbert?” she called softly. “How are you feeling?”
He didn’t answer right away, content to simply exist in the safety of her arms, soaking in the warmth of both his mother and the fire.
“Pawbert?” she called again, though this time her voice sounded distant.
Everything around him began to blur, fading at the edges, yet he could still hear his name.
“Pawbert.”
It echoed now. The warmth of his mother’s embrace and the roaring glow of the fireplace slowly slipped away.
“Pawbert.”
The voice no longer sounded like his mother.
“Pawbert!”
It was deeper now.
“Pawbert, wake up!”
He woke up with a slight gasp.
As his vision slowly adjusted, the truth settled in—he was back in his padded cell. Still alone. Still cold. With no one there to comfort him. The softness of the walls did nothing to dull the emptiness that pressed in on him from all sides.
He pushed himself upright. Judging by the pale brightness filtering into the room, he guessed it was sometime in the morning. That alone confused him. He didn’t have a meeting with Dr. Fuzzby today, so he couldn’t understand why the tiger guard—whose name he’d learned was apparently Tony—was standing inside his cell, looming over him like a drill sergeant.
“Rise and shine, Pawbert. You got a visitor,” Tony reported flatly.
“A visitor?” Pawbert echoed quietly, confusion knitting his brow. “Who would visit me?”
The tiger only shrugged, clearly uninterested. “No idea. Get off the floor and make yourself presentable. I’m taking you to the visitation wing.”
Pawbert didn’t get the chance to argue. Tony had already turned and left the cell before another word could be said.
With little choice, Pawbert did as he was told. He stood up and tried to make himself look presentable—or at least as presentable as he could manage in his current state.
As he shifted, he caught a faint reflection of himself in the transparent glass wall of the cell. It was barely there, just a hazy outline, but enough to recognize. The edges of his face. The soft, rounded curve of his cheeks. The tufts of fur on his ears.
And his eyes—golden yellow.
Just like his mother’s.
“Hey.”
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Tony stood near the door, impatience written all over his posture as he waited for Pawbert to move.
“I get that you’re sad for some reason,” the tiger said gruffly, “but I don’t wanna spend my morning here babysitting you. Get a move on, Lynxley!”
With that, Tony retreated into the hallway.
Not wanting to push his luck—or the tiger’s temper—Pawbert followed.
The visitation area was… sparse. A plain room with a table, windows, and very little else. No warmth. No comfort. Just empty space.
He was guided to the table and made to sit, left alone to wait for the mysterious visitor to be let in.
His mind raced as he tried to guess who it could be. It couldn’t be family. His father had been an only child, and all of his mother’s relatives lived far away from Zootopia. Even if they didn’t, they would have heard what happened to the Lynxley clan—and would likely want nothing to do with him.
It couldn’t be a friend.
To Pawbert’s knowledge, he didn’t have any friends… not real ones, anyway.
The last friend he ever had was Gary.
And he remembered exactly how that ended—Pawbert betraying him, leaving him behind to die in the cold.
The door to the visitation room opened.
Pawbert nearly cursed aloud when he saw who stepped in.
Or rather—slithered in.
Gary’s smile was just as bright as Pawbert remembered it. He didn’t know why, but it looked like the pit viper was genuinely glad to see him.
“Hey there, partner!” Gary greeted cheerfully.
All Pawbert could feel in that moment was his chest tightening with every breath he took.