Thundercats Fanfiction Project (Ch 1, Episode 2) 

In this episode, the king, the nobles, and the knights gather in haste. Claudus commands evacuation, relics are named, and judgment draws near…

The Council in Thundera

Book 1 – Exile and Vigil – Chapter 1, Episode 2

Within the royal palace, as the walls trembled under bombardment, the king, the ruling nobles, and the knights of Thundera gathered at midnight in haste. The council chamber—once a place of ceremony and law—now echoed with alarms, falling stone, and distant cries. Thunderan ears across the room flicked and angled with every impact, instinctively tracking vibrations through the stone long before the sound reached them.

At the head stood King Claudus, blind ruler of Thundera and Lord of the ThunderCats. His mane, once bright and fiery, had deepened into a dignified tawny gold streaked with silver. His skin bore the warm golden tones of the lion‑line, and where his eyes once had been, only scarred hollows remained—taken by Mutants long ago. Yet his posture remained regal. His crown, wrought of gold and embedded with gems known as the Cats’ Eyes—each gem reflecting the colors of the Thunderan races—glimmered faintly in the flickering light.

Around him assembled the sworn knights of the Eye—the ThunderCats, noble vassals who served the king directly, bound by oath and covenantal duty.

Jaga, eldest of the ThunderCats, stood at Claudus’ right. His jaguar‑based features—golden‑tan skin, dark markings softened by age, and hair faded toward silver‑white—gave him the solemn dignity of a patriarch. His cloak, once crimson, was now a deep blue‑grey warded against spells, and his armor was etched with ancient runes. He held his helmet tucked beneath one arm, revealing his white‑streaked beard and stern, time‑worn face.

Beside him stood Tygra, the tactician. His orange‑and‑black striped hair and burnished amber eyes marked his tiger heritage. He wore a deep forest‑green robe trimmed with bronze, echoing his noble lineage. His whip, coiled at his side, glinted with mystic metal.

Cheetara stood near him, staff contracted in hand. Her pale‑gold, spotted hair fell in thick, radiant waves over garments of silver‑white with pale gold trim—flowing yet fitted to her athletic form. Her dainty silver‑white slippers, trimmed in gold, matched her attire perfectly. Her golden‑amber eyes shone with both fear and resolve.

Panthro, broad‑shouldered and slate‑gray, stood like a fortress. His emerald eyes watched every shadow. His crimson‑and‑black robes were reinforced with steel plates, and his nunchucks—hardened black wood bound with steel—hung at his side.

Jagara, mystic sorceress, stood opposite Jaga. Her jaguar‑based features were younger and sharper—golden‑tan skin, dark markings, and long black‑and‑gold hair. Her robes of royal purple, lavender, and mauve shimmered with enchantment, and her delicate slippers matched the flowing garments that marked her as both noble and mystic. Her eyes glowed with restrained power.

At her side stood WilyKat and WilyKit, robed in muted tones. WilyKit’s sandy‑brown hair was streaked with blue and pink chalkdust, her nails painted to match. WilyKat’s darker hair was tousled, his stance tight with nervous energy. Their bright green and amber eyes watched the Hall with awe and worry as distant explosions shook the palace, their ears flicking at every tremor. Their robes held small pouches filled with harmless trick‑capsules — tiny snap‑bursts that made noise, flash, and smoke when thrown — along with marbles, string, and a pair of well‑worn slingshots. Whatever games those tools once served, today they clutched them like treasures of courage, staying close to Jaga — their anchor in the storm. They obeyed him above all, second only to the king.

Other nobles filled the chamber—lords in silk tunics threaded with gold, velvet surcoats, polished leather shoes, and feathered hats adorned with jewels. Some were tenants‑in‑chief, rulers of distant provinces; others were lesser lords who held land from them. Many more joined virtually, their faces grim on shimmering screens, leaders from across the world gathered to hear the king’s decree.

The generals delivered their report: the Mutants had bypassed defenses, and the great cities were burning. Millions were already dead.

A hush fell.

Claudus raised his voice, steady despite the tremors beneath their feet. His ears lifted into a firm, forward‑facing angle—the Thunderan signal of leadership under crisis. “Thundera is undone. We must evacuate.”

The nobles murmured—some protesting, others weeping. Ears flattened across the chamber in a ripple of fear and disbelief, the instinctive Thunderan response to overwhelming loss. Jaga bowed his head in solemn agreement, his ears tilting low in shared grief.

Claudus continued: “The people must scatter across the stars. Let them seek refuge in neighboring systems. Though our ships cannot travel far, they may find safety on friendly worlds.”

At once, nobles reached for their devices. Their ears twitched anxiously as they called and messaged their families—ordering them to evacuate if they were far, or to meet them at their ships if they were nearby. Others contacted their knights, voices tight, their pupils narrowing in the instinctive Thunderan focus that accompanied fear for one’s kin.

Jagara stepped forward, voice trembling. Her ears angled sharply toward Claudus, a Thunderan gesture of urgency and plea. “The relics must be preserved. The Book must not fall. The Eye must remain in sacred hands.”

Claudus nodded. “We will take the relics with us—the Sword of Omens, the Claw and Shield, the Book of Omens, and the Treasure of Thundera. The ThunderCats will guard them. Once we find a safe world, we will gather our people and rebuild.”

A massive explosion shook the palace. The eastern wall cracked, and dust rained from the ceiling. Every Thunderan in the chamber froze for a heartbeat—the instinctive predator stillness—ears swiveling toward the source before the sound fully registered. Alarms blared. Guards rushed in—armed with crossbows, halberds, and enchanted shields—reporting that Mutant troops had broken through the palace defenses.

Claudus turned to the nobles. His ears rose into a commanding, unwavering angle—the Thunderan signal of absolute resolve. “There is no time. Flee to your ships—save your families if you can.”

Some nobles ran to meet their families; others called their knights to escort them to their vessels. Panic rippled through the chamber, marked by flattened ears, flared pupils, and the sharp, instinctive breaths of a species fighting both fear and duty.

To Jaga and Jagara, Claudus said: “You two come with me to the Hall of Omens.”

To Tygra, Cheetara, and Panthro: “Ready the royal ship for evacuation while we bring my wife, the relics, and the prince into it.” Their ears snapped forward in unison—Thunderan instinct aligning with duty—before they sprinted into motion.

The council scattered. The siege had reached the heart of Thundera. There was no ceremony now—only duty, judgment, and the last work of a dying kingdom.

***

“Thus the council scattered, and the final charge was given. The relics would journey into exile, while Thundera awaited its fate.”

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Disclaimer

This work is a piece of fan fiction inspired by the ThunderCats franchise. All characters, settings, and original concepts from ThunderCats are the property of their respective rights holders. I do not own the rights to ThunderCats, nor do I claim any affiliation with its owners. This story is a transformative retelling created for creative expression and audience engagement, not as a commercial product.

AI Collaboration Statement

In creating this work, I made use of Microsoft Copilot, a tool that helped inscribe my vision into narrative form. I remain the visionary and architect of this saga, shaping its mythic framework, themes, and direction. Copilot served as the writer, giving voice to my design. I then revised and refined its drafts, making further changes to ensure the saga reflects my vision in full. This stands as a creative collaboration in honor of the original ThunderCats universe.