Pardon Me

It hadn't been easy to get here, no no no. The roving gangs of stinking hyenas and the equally ragged and stinking groups of lionesses had saw to that. There was a period of time where she spent crouched underneath a rock in an old badger den, among tangled roots and mud while several hyenas overcame and tortured a poor... something. Hera hadn't been sure if it was a lion cub, one of their own, or a foal of some sort unlucky enough to wander away from its mother. Either way, it had sounded young but Hera was not going to risk her hide for a measly little whelp. She had already been compromised enough by having to crouch knee-deep in the filthy old badger den! After a while though the hyena group had fallen asleep and Hera was able to slip by unnoticed - although she had given one drowsy hyena a fright because he mistook her for a ghost. Hera had merely raised her hackles, gave a frightening grin and disappeared into the withering grass.

Surprisingly, Hera hadn't encountered much of anyone else as she made her way deeper and deeper into the pride's territory. It was dusk, so the growing shadows helped conceal her otherwise obvious form, but now should be a time that the pride was most active. The pale lioness had made a note of how barren the land seemed and how sparse the prey was. It was possible that the lionesses that inhibited these dilapidated lands were expanding their territory, having to travel farther and farther distances in order to find food. It was a shame, Hera thought. If she did finally choose this kingdom as her next playground, she might actually have to do some hunting for herself...

As Hera came closer and closer to the large rock formation that seemed to be at the heart of the pride's kingdom, she wound her way around various boulders and trees, lazily rubbing against them. She wasn't careful about not leaving tracks. It would be obvious to the pride that some one else was within their territory, what with all of Hera's scent markings and all. She had grazed against a small, withered bush and a thorn pulled a small tuft of hair from her pelt. While someone of naivety would assume this was a foolish mistake, others would know that it was a deliberate move.

It was true. Hera's actions were quite brazen and frankly dangerous. But the lioness was not concerned as she padded up the rocks onto the main front, the large boulder that jutted out over the savannah. She had done this before and had ended up unscathed - so her movements were languid and confident. She proceeded to the crux of Pride Rock, surveying the wasted kingdom with a smirk. "What a pity," she murmured as she settled down, grooming her pale fur. "I'm sure it used to be a beautiful place."

The sweltering heat of the day was beginning to subside as the sun dipped low in the western sky. The rains had been absent for years from the Pridelands. Not even Scar believed they would return, but he did nothing to save the pride, whose numbers now dwindled to a pawful. He didn't try to conserve water, or look for new sources. The lionesses were now convinced that they were all doomed, except for a few who tried to keep up the morale in the territory. But even the strong ones knew that their days were numbered if things didn't change soon.

At Pride Rock, only Scar was present that evening. The others were off trying to find solutions to their problems, but the king was sullen. His favorite cub had been dead for a few weeks now, and with Ari went the last of Scar's happiness. Once again, he was the unloved king of a dying land. He mulled it over in his mind repeatedly: where had it all gone so terribly wrong? What had Mufasa done that Scar could not? As he brooded, the sight of a light hued figure caught his attention. It was approaching Pride Rock, but he knew it wasn't one of his lionesses. An eye brow arched curiously as Scar watched Hera come closer. The lion himself was apparently hidden from sight, but the stranger wasn't frightened at all by her unfamiliar surroundings. How did the lioness make it this far without being detected? It seemed the hyenas were not doing their job that day. Someone would be punished, or more likely, many of the canine brutes would suffer for letting a stranger this far into the kingdom.

As Hera began to bathe, from the shadows of the monolith came a silky smooth voice, strangely accented. "It is still a beautiful place." Finally, he emerged from his resting spot to get a better look at this feminine intruder. Her pale coat looked strange in the dying light of the day, her unusual pelt pattern appearing to be a trick of the eye. The lion's own russet form was ragged from lack of care, as if he hadn't eaten a proper meal in day, yet he carried himself with the poise and dignity of one who thought highly of himself. His stature suggested king, but his visage was the very image of living decay. His appearance was eerily suited to the territory he claimed, and his health deteriorated daily.

But he was still the king of Pride Rock, and Scar would never allow anyone to forget it. His cold, bright jade eyes swept over the figure of the lioness, and a grin began to spread across his narrowed muzzle. The dark king had cast out too many of his own in recent weeks, and he rather liked the look of this newcomer. "And who, may I ask, are you?" He had long discovered that honey caught more flies than vinegar; His gentle, lyrical tones did not suggest the evil that was lurking within him as he stepped closer. Nothing in his stance hinted at aggression or displeasure. On the contrary... Scar had to contain his excitement as he neared the female. "You've come a long way to get this far, hm? You can relax, friend. You've nothing to worry about here."

The hunting party would be gone for hours yet, if they returned at all that day. For the time being, Scar knew that he was utterly alone there, save for the lovely lioness who hadn't seemed nervous to be trespassing at all. This alone was intriguing enough to Scar to pique his interest, and he smiled his most pleasant, gracious smile. Perhaps today would not be a total waste, after all?

Hera hadn't noticed the stranger lurking in the shadows, but did not flinch when he made his presence known. Rather, she was quite pleased that she had not been kept waiting. Patience was a virtue, but what is the fun in waiting around? She only had so much fur to groom after all. She smirked at his reply. Beauty was subjective, and while parched and barren lands were ugly, Hera found the lions that still desperately clung to whatever left the kingdom had to offer marvelous. Looking up at the slowly approaching patriarch, Hera smirked, but did not stop grooming. She rolled onto her side and lifted her hind leg into the air, coating it with long, rhythmic licks. This lion would wait for her.

The lion was not the image of a king she had imagined, but his weathered and ragged coat seemed fitting for the land. But there was no mistaking him for the ruler - he walked with confidence, a certain poise that could not be mistaken. He was royalty. She imagined him healthier, younger. She could see his dull, brown coat was once a vibrant russet hue, and his mangy locks had once been groomed and silky in a better time. But what Hera could not imagine, was this lion being much bulkier than he was now. He had always been scrawny. Hera took note.

Taking one tantalizingly long last lick, the pale lioness set her leg down softly and looked to the lion. "Who, me?" She asked with a slight grin, as if there were anyone else to be mistaken with. "I'm whoever you want me to be." Her tone lowered to nearly a whisper, her voice husky and soft. Hera did not look away from the lion, the king of these sad lands; she did not blink. She left her eerie pale gaze match his own green one for as long as he could stand. She had nothing to worry about. Whether he was genuine in his kindness or playing the same game, he welcomed her. And why wouldn't he? Beauty was accepted anywhere.

After a moment, whether Scar broke their gaze or not, Hera let the corners of her mouth creep up slowly into a grin. "It seems like you have a bit of a hyena problem here." Her tone was casual, but underneath was the sting of a wasp. After all, what king would let those stinking dogs roam so freely on his land? It was something Hera was genuinely curious about.

The lioness bathed luxuriously before Scar, who seemed baffled by the scene. His own subjects couldn't stand the sight of him, but the stranger seemed almost uninterested in her company. Her coat was vaguely reminiscent of Heshima, a former mate that the king had exiled recently, but in reverse. She didn't carry herself the same way that the other lioness had. Heshima had been weak, submissive. This newcomer was made of different stuff, which Scar found both appealing and frustrated. She teased the king, avoided his question. Her tone was suggestive, and this was not something Scar was accustomed to. Normally lionesses approached him with disgust, not... Whatever it was this one had in mind. Scar wasn't entirely certain. "I see," he began, brow still arching high, curious. "What is your name?" He noticed her strange light eyes, which seemed to stare through him, locking with his own.

Those emerald eyes narrowed slightly when Hera commented on the hyenas. "The hyenas are not a problem. Think of them as extra security. They do as I say. It's quite useful, really." He kept his stare intent on Hera's, refusing to glance away. If it was a staring game she wanted, then she would get one. Scar wasn't so easily unnerved. "I am King Scar of the Pridelands. To what do I owe this pleasure?" If she was hunting for information, Scar would know. He wouldn't have any sneakiness in his kingdom, unless it was his own scheming. If it was something else she was hungry for, then this was a different matter entirely. A home, perhaps? A king?

The aging lion sat before the young rogue, eyes wandering freely over her form again. She was sleak, attractive. Now, she had his attention, and there were no others to intrude upon their meeting. With a stranger, Scar had the luxury of anonymity (or so he imagined). This lioness couldn't know the suffering he had brought upon his own pride. And so Scar did his best to appear the part he played erroneously. His chest thrust outwards with unwarranted pride. His chin was tipped back just slightly so that he was looking down at the lioness.

The king was puzzled. Every time any male was taken aback by Hera's apparent sexuality and confidence, she was delighted. Her entire life she had been taught that the female sex was weaker, submissive, but how could that be true? The power to manipulate was so much more powerful than brute strength. After all, all a lady had to do was wiggle her hips and dangle the promise of something more in front of a lion's nose and they would be drooling at her paws. She giggled. There was no more avoiding the question. "I'm Hera."

The King's next response was not quite what she had expected. Yes, she had been prepared for a darkening tone or a harsher look, but not the explanation. Extra security? How could be possible? Hera had traveled far and wide and it was almost a universal rule that lions and hyenas did not get along. How had this king struck up that deal and at what cost? However, Hera did not press the matter. She recognized a stung nerve. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and gave the king an impressed nod. "That's very progressive." Although the desire to press the matter was steadily increasing within Hera, she kept quiet. It was merely out of curiosity, and she could deal with that later. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

The king introduced himself, and the pale lioness smirked inwardly. A cruel nickname for a king, one that would forever remind him of the ugly mark that stood out so blatantly across his eye. "It is a pleasure to meet you, King Scar of the Pridelands." She did not rise. In her current position, Hera was physically more vulnerable to the king, but her body language spoke of so much more. It was a dangerous game of chicken. Finally, it was Hera who broke the gaze. She would let him have that advantage. Glancing to her left over the dry land, she gave a soft sigh and a slight flick of her tail. "I am just a weary traveler, looking for a new family, a place to call home." She left her answer open ended enough and her tone softened to elicit pity and in turn, trust. Many people were wary of rogues, but if they had a sad story under their belt and an apparent desire to reform and start a new life, prides were generally more accepting.

It wasn't necessarily a lie, but rather a half-truth.

Russet ears pricked forward at the sound of Hera's giggle, and he was unable to supress the grin that steadily spread across his features. "Hera. A lovely name," he commented, voice low as he tested out her moniker. It rolled of the tongue. Yes, he rather liked the name and the lioness that accompanied it. Hera suggested that Scar's alliance with the hyenas was progressive, and he gave a curt nod. "Yes. I have always thought so. It's easier to trust them then a fellow king." It was clear by her expression that the lioness may not believe her own words, but if she stayed in the Pridelands, she would see for herself. Only Scar believed that the hyenas were important and necessary to the pride's survival. None of the others could guess exactly why or how it had all happened, and Scar wasn't about to admit the truth: without the mangey beasts, he wouldn't be king at all. He would keep them close until the bitter end, never supposing that it would ultimately be his trusted allies that would end his wretched life.

Even with his own downfall looming on the horizon, Scar worried about his legacy. Most of his cubs were dead, missing, or exiled. Only two remained, and both seemed to loathe their dear old dad. The king's entire demeanor shifted dramatically when Hera admitted, whether truthfully or otherwise, that she was looking for a new home and a family. His sagging form seemed to perk up considerably, and for a moment, in his twisted mind, Scar was no longer the aging, loathed king od a dying land. Instead, he was the charming lion he could pretend to be when the occasion called for it. Only a few lionesses had seen this side of the brute: feigned interest, a softened gaze. It was only his desire that was not forced. "You've come to the right place, my dear. My kingdom welcomes you."

Oh, what would the queen think when she realized there was another competing for Scar's attention? Zira was due to give birth to another litter herself before too long. The king had longed for his so-called litter of kings for years now, but had produced only females and weak males. He had attempted to create his desired heir with a pawful of lionesses now. Heshima was banished. Kimbilia was dead. That left only Zira, for the other lionesses would rather die than let Scar near them. But Hera didn't know anything about him, as far as Scar was concerned. Here was a fresh start. He would be a fool not to take it.

He gravitated closer to the lioness, who had not moved from her position. "You are traveling alone, aren't you?" It was easier to get what he wanted if there was no one there to stop him. A sick grin was spread nearly from ear to ear as Scar came closer still, ebony nostrils taking in the scent of the female eagerly.

Hyenas were easier to trust than another king? Hera could not say that she agreed with this statement. Although it was not like her to trust anyone, she would definitely consider a fellow lion - another king, as Scar said - much more reliable than the dimwitted dogs. But perhaps, their lack of mental prowess made them that much easier to control. Hera knew that feeling well; it was a general disposition she had to pretty much anyone she encountered.

The pale lioness couldn't help but smile when the king crept nearer, welcoming her into his kingdom with open arms. It had been so easy - she may not have his trust (as this one seemed like a tough nut to crack), but she had his interest. His desire. This scene had played out so many times in so many different kingdoms. Hera would waltz in, gain the patriarch's pity and attention, and soon the entire pride was her plaything. Manipulation came easy when you had what someone wanted, and Hera was what many kings and princes wanted.

Letting out a sad sigh when Scar inquired about whether or not she had company while she traveled, Hera shook her head and looked forlornly into the distance. "No, your majesty. I am completely alone." She turned her gaze back to the russet king at the word "alone," matching his gaze without blinking. "It has been so very lonely..." She lifted her front paw delicately, letting it brush past his own. She did not break eye contact.

"...so you would understand that I am eager for company. Will the rest of the pride be along shortly?" In one fluid motion, the pale lioness rose to her feet, brushed dangerously close to the leering king, and stepped away, putting a little more distance between the two. Peered over the edge of Pride Rock, in whatever direction she imagined the hunting parties to be. Glancing back at Scar, she flicked her tail teasingly and smirked. Oh Hera, you tease.

As Hera spoke, Scar now found himself unable to look away. Her strange eyes captured him, pulled the king in closer. Scar felt a shiver run from his tail, up his spine. They were not leonine eyes, not like anything he had ever seen in waking life. They were like the eyes of a devil, something out of a terrible dream. He stared into the strange, frightening eyes and he scowled. He would not back down now. Hera put on a good show, sighing at the appropriate moments, expression clouding with emotion. The soft touch of her paw was electric, and Scar fought against his instinct to jerk away. "Don't you worry about the others. They'll be back later. They may not return for hours."

In this day and age, it was impossible to trust anyone. Certainly, Hera played the part of a tragic rogue convincingly enough, but Scar wasn't a fool. He hadn't retained his throne for so many years by believing every sob story that was recited to him. Scar had met others like this one before. One so brazen was capable of utter chaos, if that was what they desired. Who would understand that more than the dark king himself? The lioness possessed her sexual prowess, while Scar had the mind of an evil genius and his hyenas. And Scar could sense there was something more than companionship and safety that this lioness was hungry for. Perhaps she was a spy, sent from a neighboring monarch to seduce his lionesses away from Scar's grasp?

He placed his muzzle beside a dark rimmed ear. "What are you really here for? His voice was a low whisper, his chin brushing against Hera's cheek. "Tell me the real reason. Why this kingdom? Why me?" He so desperately wanted to hear a lie: that he was a desirable king with a desirable kingdom. But he wanted to hear the truth from the pale, strange lioness herself. And still he stared at her peculiar eyes, looking for answers there, his shallow breathing filling the silence, sour breath tainting the stale air between them.

His chosen mate Zira was the furthest thing from his mind, and he hoped the other lionesses would stay away for the rest of the day. He wanted this new lioness to himself. Oh, they would have lots to say behind his back if they found a new pride sister there upon their return from another unsuccessful hunt. They would loathe their king no matter what he did, and he had stopped trying to please the masses long, long ago.

She had him. She had him in her claws and she was pulling him closer and closer until she would consume him. What felt like electricity ran up and down her spine, making her eyes glow. Hera could hardly keep still and as the old king drew closer, excitement built in her chest as if she would burst. He didn't trust her. She knew that. The king was smart and shrewd. Why else would he surround himself with such vile company such as the hyenas? He was no stranger to manipulation so of course he saw through Hera's lies, but that made it all the more fun. Time after time had Hera encountered brainless oaf after brainless oaf of kings, who offered little resistance when she came to wreak havoc. It was boring.

But this... This was something new. This was dangerous. This was fun.

Hera felt Scar's rough and tattered mane graze ever so lightly against her flank, his hot breath on her cheek. Her body was tense with anticipation, her jaw clenched, claws digging into the stone beneath her. He accused her, both wanted and feared her. And it was right that he should not trust her, but not for the reasons he thought. Hera had no interest in liberating the Pridelands. She did not care about the lionesses, their hunting parties, other prides or getting information. If she was like that, it would be a blessing for Olde King Scar. But no, she was much more dangerous than that.

The pale lioness turned to face him, pale eyes glowing in their dark sockets. A wicked grin spread across her jaw, an unsettling grin that displayed every glinting tooth. If Scar had thought she was a demon before, he would now think she was the devil himself. "I saw it. I want it." She said, her gaze burning. She lifted her muzzle to his and her tongue snaked out, dragging slowly upwards from his chin to his nose. Her teeth suddenly flashed and clamped down on his muzzle, then just as quickly drawing away. The bite was not severe. It would not draw (much) blood. But it stung enough to be a warning. And sign. An oath.

"And I will take it." Hera breathed. The King. The Tyrant of Pride Rock. He was all powerful but she would have him. And that was the real power she craved.

The sting left by the sudden bite both infuriated and tantalized the dark lion. The words she uttered, every move she made was preposterous, and her demonic eyes goaded Scar on. A lip curled back in a low growl. "And what makes you think it's yours for the taking? These lands have a queen. I've produced heirs." He circled the lioness, brushing his tail along her side. He would not allow her to have the upper paw, no matter what she thought. The fact that most of his cubs were dead or gone went unmentioned. He meant only to point out that he already possessed nearly everything she had to offer, and what made her think she was so special? "I'm not like the other lions you have seduced in the past, Hera, I promise you that."

He stopped dead in his tracks before the lioness, piercing green eyes again catching with her pale yellow ones once again. They narrowed instinctively but he said nothing else. Now he was genuinely curious to hear what this stranger had to say for herself. She was entirely unlike the Pridelander lionesses. She made the old king's blood boil, and he was unable to decide whether he wanted to claim her as his own, break her and ruin her, or if he wanted to tear her limb from limb. She was a deadly thing. She had powers that could drive a lion mad, but she was too late, in this case, for Scar had lost his mind many years ago.

Not that he wasn't intrigued, of course. He listened intently for the sound of the others returning, but they were still far away, and the queen was equally distant. It was disturbingly silent all around them. The herds were further away then the hunting party, the water steadily evaporating to nothingness. The Pridelands were not the kingdom they had once been, and their king wasn't the lion he used to be. But he still had power. His pride had been steadily shrinking for years, but today it would grow. The hyenas weren't terribly far away. Such a strong lioness only needed a firm paw to be tamed. And Scar wanted this one. He was the king, and he would take what pleased him for his own. His expression dared her to attack him again. See what happens next time.

Hera backed away from the king, eyes ever glowing. The toothy grin was still spread over her jaws as Scar began to growl. She allowed him to circle her, making no movement to follow the russet lion, though her gaze still tracked his movements. His tail brushed lightly along her flank and tingled ever so slightly where it grazed her pelt. It was true, he had all that he could ever think to want - power over a dying kingdom, a lioness by his side, offspring to carry on his name. But if his kingdom had everything it needed, why did she see desire burning in his eyes?

But the king's words did speak of some truth. It was true, this aged, decrepit lion was not like the others she had tantalized in the past. They had been much more gullible, trusting. For the first time Hera felt as though she had met something of her match, something that could tear her down just as quickly as she did it. It was dangerous. It would destroy her. And the pale demon had never been so excited in her life.

The king stopped and slowly, Hera begun to slink forward, slow and fluid. Her head was low and she was poised like a snake about to strike. She stood there, nose to nose with the Old King Scar, staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "And despite all that, you still want me, don't you?" The pale lioness inched closer and closer, fur slowly bristling along her spine. "More than anything else." Her voice was low, husky. He needed her because she was the only one who understood destruction and power like he did.

ooc- Sorry I've been so scarce! I have company staying this week, so I've been pretty busy -.-;; I'll be back as regular in a few days, though!

For the first time in a long time, Scar felt he was having an exceptionally good day. Zira had been distant, promising her mate that she would deliver his litter of kings he had wanted so desperately, but now Scar had his doubts that she was even expecting at all. The striped queen had made no secret of her ambitions. It had been what drew the king to her. It seemed impossible for the dark lion to find someone like-minded, and he thought he had found it in Zira. But Zira's son was weak. Nuka got on Scar's nerves, and neither father nor son retained any fondness for the other. Even if Zira did give birth to another litter, who was to say her new cubs wouldn't be exactly the same? Scar still maintained that the small size of most of his cubs wasn't his fault at all, despite his own slight frame. He always blamed the lioness.

A lioness as different as Hera was definitely worth his time. He could tell that Hera was interested as well, for whatever her reasons may be. Her words caused the lion to shiver as he battled himself to remain collected. Her eyelids were heavy but they could not hide those strange, unnatural eyes. Scar felt for the first time that he understood what it was like for prey to feel cornered, trapped. There was no denying the words Hera spoke were true. Scar didn't try.

His piercing green eyes slid away from the lioness. No others had returned. They were utterly alone. What was it that he wanted? Truly, since the day he was cognizant of his deepest desires, even young Taka had craved power and influence. He wanted to be loved, but he expected from his subjects a love born from fear. If they were afraid, they were easy to control. They would respect him, one way or another, if he had to banish every dissenter among them. They would be his or they would be gone.

And whether or not Hera knew it, Scar would take her, too. One way or another, her existence would be forever altered by this meeting, if the russet brute had anything to do with it. When Hera could move no closer, Scar suddenly slipped away from her warmth. He stepped towards the empty den. Without looking back, he growled lowly. "You will stay, my dear Hera. Come and see the den." It would be a battle of wills, but Scar thought he had all the time in the world to take control. Hera would be a fun challenge. Little did he know that his death was looming, sooner than anyone could guess. The coarse black tip of his tail flicked, beckoning her to join him in the shadowed recesses of the pride den.In the end, it didn't matter that Hera wanted something that Scar wouldn't let her have. It wouldn't last long enough for it to matter.



OOC-- No worries! I'm going on a week long trip anyway so take your time.