It had been building for a long time, really, the enmity and frustration between father and son.
All his life Khozar had been treated by Mirsajadi as if he was somehow deeply flawed without any explanation being provided. He could barely remember living in the Ukuucha'Wafalme, but the vague memories he did have of that time involved Khozar's mother being treated shabbily despite the fact that she was supposed to occupy a higher position than the other lioness in the den, and her litter only seeing their father but rarely. Khozar had never resented his half-siblings or their mother for being treated like a second-class citizen. The blame for that had always fallen squarely on his father's shoulders as far as the young lion was concerned.
Always Mirsajadi had regarded Khozar with a mixture of emotions, never quite sure whether he ought to expect more or less of him because of the fact that he was not his own son, but the b*****d son of his beybanu and his most-hated brother. He knew that the lineage was basically the same as if Khozar had been a child of his loins, but the fact was that Khozar was not his son and as such Mirsajadi could not bring himself to love him. He had taken him to hurt Arezoo, not because he really wanted the resentful, difficult cub who looked so much like him. And Akram'raja.
The two of them had sniped and snarled at each other for months and months, although in the end Khozar always bowed to his father's will because he could not stop himself from believing that he might someday win a place in his father's affections. He did not delude himself into thinking that he would ever be adored like Isa was, but respected would be nice. Liked would be even better. It wasn't easy for him though. He was a strong-willed lion with desires and dreams of his own and Mirsajadi didn't seem to realize that. Or maybe he just didn't care. It was difficult to tell sometimes.
At last things came to a head, and when they did, they did so in a predictably spectacular manner that probably would have involved violence if Mirsajadi had been a lion with less control over himself. Mirsajadi was working, making sure that the totals added up correctly for the pride's treasure hoard when Khozar found him and demanded to talk to him.
Actually, what he said was more like, "We have to talk, and we have to talk now."
To which Mirsajadi responded much as one might expect a lion of his temperament to respond: "We will talk later, when I have finished with what I'm doing here. If you'd like to wait here, please do so quietly, otherwise I'll see you when I come home."
It was the fact that Mirsajadi didn't even look up to address Khozar that pushed the adolescent over the edge and into a tantrum. The striped cub who looked so much like Mirsajadi to everyone except Mirsajadi, who could only see his brother when he looked at Khozar, swiped the piles out of order and planted himself where they had been. Then, with a hint of a growl, he said, "No. We're going to talk now."
Khozar's violent display of temper was a surprise to Mirsajadi, of course, since he had not raised the cub to be violent, instead teaching him to value wits and intellect above brute strength. Nevertheless, he did not look or act particularly surprised, only mildly annoyed by the outburst, and a little disdainful of Khozar for resorting to some sort of physical demonstration in the first place.
"I can see this must be terribly important," he said dryly. "Let me guess. There's a girl? No, you're too young for that. I've forgotten your birthday? No, I'd hope you're too old for that. Hmm."
"I'm leaving," Khozar interrupted. And he might have gone on to say more, but Mirsajadi wasn't interested in hearing more.
"No you aren't." This was said firmly. What came next was definitely said to belittle the younger lion, even though Mirsajadi did not act as though he was doing so. "You have no place to go and no marketable skills. You're a mediocre hunter and a slightly better than mediocre thief. I can't imagine you'll easily find a pride willing to take you in, or fend for yourself particularly well."
"You can't stop me," Khozar growled, taking the only viable path to victory by ignoring his father's remarks about his competence. They were correct, of course, but to acknowledge them would be to lose this contest of wills.
Mirsajadi looked at Khozar then, a sharp and piercing look of the sort he rarely turned on others since meeting Hari. "If I wanted to, I expect that I could. But that is assuming that I want to. In truth, you are no son of mine and I would not be overly bothered by your departure, but my daughter loves you fiercely and I would like you to consider that before you make your ill-fated demonstration of independence."
"Isa will understand why I have to leave," Khozar said, grasping for firmness in his tone.
There was a lot to take in about Mirsajadi's statement, but what Khozar could not help but fixate on were the words "you are no son of mine." He had always wondered about that, given Mirsajadi's vagueness on the subject, but now it seemed he had finally goaded his father figure into admitting that he was not his son. It hurt a lot more than Khozar had expected it to.
"I might not be gone forever, anyway. Perhaps I'll come back once I've found a better place and take her away from you. Maybe I'll find my real father and we'll live with him."
Mirsajadi's garnet eyes flashed. "If you try to take my daughter, I will see you dead. As for your real father, he lives with the Ukuucha'Wafalme. His name is Akram'raja. He's my brother."
Khozar flinched. He couldn't help the way he was raised, and the way he was raised made what his real father had done repulsive to him. The circumstances didn't matter. He understood what Mirsajadi was saying. His father was a lion without honor, his mother was an adulteress, and he was a b*****d. He would not seek that family out. But perhaps he could hurt Mirsajadi just a little.
"It's a relief to know that my father was a real lion, not a bean-counter like you who is incapable of feeling. I'm not surprised my mother gave in to him. Probably it was she who seduced him, knowing it was the only way she would ever be with a real lion."
"We are done," Mirsajadi said, cutting Khozar off. "You have said that you are leaving. Go. I will make your farewells."
"I can make my own. I don't trust you not to lie to everyone." Khozar bristled. He sensed that he had struck something soft, but Mirsajadi's expression and tone were more intimidating than he could have possibly imagined.
"As you will," Mirsajadi said with apparent indifference. Then he returned to his work.
Word Count: 1,200 words
