Home. It was good to be back. Very good.
The young lion was stretched along the lowest branch in a tree, his form still slight and small enough to be supported by his perch. It was a habit he’d grown into as a younger cub, the way that climbing let him see more, see further, and, of course, hear more. No one ever seemed to look up after all. But he did. He always did. After all, if he had thought of it, someone else might consider it as well. And he had always prided himself on his knowledge, and his knowledge alone. He was smart. He was not strong, he was not fast, he was not big, and he was not particularly handsome, at least in his own opinion, but he was very very smart. He could do any thing that any one with those skills and talents he did not excel with could do, and more indeed.
But for now, his devious plans were on a small hold. He was comfortable for the moment. He did not need to constantly fight. He was alright where he was, for this moment. His foot was healed at last, the final mark of his encounter with a demoness faded into just a small scar on his hind paw. Where the scar had come from he’d little desire at all to share. Saying he’d been in a fight was enough truth, there was no need to explain it had been with a lioness, and that he had run rather than try to defeat her.
The pale-tufted tail lashed against the air between the branch and the earth below him. He did not like to think of that. It would shame him beyond belief should his father ever learn of his spectacular failure. His father would have beaten that lioness. He would have wrestled her into submission and dragged her back to join his harem. His father was a strong and mighty warrior, one no one would ever dream of messing with a second time. Anwar so aspired to please him, it was almost all he’d dedicated his life to. All his plans, his schemes, his reaching for greatness, for reputations, for power. All for the attention of one person.
It was a private thing, one he did not share. His goals Zarha knew only of the destination and the plans, she could guess his reasons were the same as her own if she chose. He would not tell her it was all fueled merely by his desire to please his father. He just wanted the Vizier to be proud of him. Anwar was his second son, he was one of his oldest and, being back when most of his siblings had yet to return, he was clearly one of his most successful. Besides which, none of them had a fallen star in their harem.
Crimson eyes traced over the soft white fur of the lioness whom he could just see at the mouth of his den. She did not fully understand the pride’s ways, but she respected them. She did not fight him, or scream hatred at him. He was too good for that, too clever. She followed him, respected the ways of the home he brought her back to share, and he was kind to her. Protected her. Led her to believe he was capable of feeling love for her, though he knew emotions to be fickle and worthless things. But love, that was a dangerous one. It could hold a person in thrall more thoroughly than any cage or claw. And she, his Star, would be his. She had been given his promise to leave if she disliked her home, a promise made before her very odd family. But she would not dislike it here. He would make sure of that.
That wasn’t to say he was stupid, far from it. He’d seen that she was falling in love after all. It was useful to him, it would keep her here. But there was just one small problem. She was not in love with him. She was fond of Obadias. His brother. But that was alright. Claws kneaded lightly against the bark, his eyes turning to slits as he felt the wood shift slightly beneath his paw. He could make this work. And she would find him a more compassionate mate for it. After all, how many males would allow an affair to be kept secret under their nose? She could love his brother, so long as no other was permitted to know, and the cubs he would raise as his own. He and Obi looked enough alike that no one would see a difference. The nearness of their dens, so close as to be all but beside one another, would allow the two to spend time quietly without causing unrest or disturbances within the pride. And Star, with cubs of her own to look after, she would never leave then.
He did not care if they were not his fully, though they would be family enough being his brother’s children. Obi would know Anwar knew, of course. His brother was too much his to do such a thing behind Anwar’s back. Like the pale young Star, Obi was one of those Anwar had ensnared ever so carefully. A Seer was most useful to him. Useful indeed. Obi trusted him, looked up to him, loved him, and told him anything he wished to know. This whole thing, the banu that wanted his brother instead, this could be twisted so flawlessly to his advantage. It was perfect. Both would be even more entwined into his debt, even as he was free to use them as he pleased now, imagine what he could do then.
The only one he had ever had difficulty using…Zarha.
Anwar’s gaze shifted to where he’d seen her last. His sly, dark beauty. She he had chosen as a youngster as well, but she had chosen him in return. She he did not know how to properly deceive. She was brilliant and cunning and sly with such a beautiful coat and deep red eyes… She was strong too, he knew. Her father had taught her well after all…and Anwar wondered sometimes if perhaps she were his better in combat. Privately, maybe, he should ask her to show him a few tricks. Give him some tips. It would benefit him to learn what she knew, and she would be ever so pleased to be showing him something. A Banu, teaching her Pad to fight. It seemed to him like something Zarha would take pleasure in. She enjoyed power, enjoyed being treated as an equal or better. Females never seemed to be, not here. Proper little Banu all.
But Zarha was his Beybanu. His co-conspirator. How could he possibly treat someone like her as though she were merely a pretty toy to be protected and played with? Anwar snorted, the idea itself was laughable. She was his, and that was all the others in the pride needed to know. He might not be a romantic in any way, but he did love to hold the best pawns within his paws. But Zarha was not a mere pawn. She was a key, a central figure. She was…special.
Very special. His crafty beauty. A low purr rasped in his chest as he stretched, his stripy form sliding almost bonelessly out of the tree to the ground close below. She he had missed greatly. Her clever ideas, her sharp eyes… Yes, it was good to be back here with her.
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