Joining a pride was never his first choice. Nor was it his last. It should have been a nonissue altogether.

But in the winter, prey is scarce. He’d happily been utilizing the hunting grounds established by the band that lived nearby (taking only what he need for himself, of course, for neutral lands are free game even if they’re governed). But then the band was gone, trace scents venturing deeper into the desert in the direction of Andal Oasis. A pride he’s heard of, but rarely seen. Mysterious as it was captivating.

And far better than the hovel he’s called his home for months.

He mulls his options in the passing days, but hunger will eventually drive a man to do anything. He covers the mouth of his den with large, sprawling palm fronds, in an inconspicuous enough manner that any passerby would not notice the dark, winding depths that linger just beneath. And in case they did, he’s taken extra precaution in hiding the cache even deeper within its depths.

Rhys takes nothing with him when he ventures to the borders of Andal. Not even his name.

A polite call, and nothing more, stands between him and uncertainty. But he spares no room for hesitation. He’s had days to change his mind. So he waits on the neutral side of the border and roars out for their leader, his cry followed by a painful twist in his empty belly, entirely unaware of just what he was about to walk into.

---

@Scorpius @Leonidas

He knows that voice, that deep baritone that comes across in the roar to summon the king. Nidas wouldn’t have given it a second thought but - but he knows that voice. He knows what it sounds like when it growls his name. He knows the scent of that throat -

And he’s here.

Leonidas doesn’t run but he wants to, so he walks with more purpose than his young life as ever had. He beats his father, thank the gods, and finds @Rhys standing on the border like he’d feared.

"What are you doing here?" It isn’t the shy, bashful medic that greets the rogue, but the prince of Andal Oasis - head high, gaze cold, a distance between them that spans more than just the few physical feet. Never mind that his heart pounds under that icy exterior, fear and unfamiliar excitement mixing in his blood.

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At first, he comes as an oh-so-pleasant surprise.

But it is not with shy smiles or breathy flirtations that @Leonidas meets him. Instead, the Andal prince regards him with a level coolness, an indifference hiding what unreadable emotions lurking just behind. If he were any other lovestruck, hopeful man, Rhys might have been offended—but he's been in too many similar situations too many times before to be caught in surprise for long.

Before their night of debauchery and want and betraying the ambitions of their fathers to pursue the novelty of one another, Leonidas had asked him to keep this all a secret. A secret, Rhys was certain, had a purpose. Perhaps one far closer to home than he realized.

Suddenly, the idea of joining a pride became an exciting one.

What are you doing here?

I was hoping to join, he replies with a casualness that mirrors the prince's practiced etiquette. Yet, he could not hide his small smile, nor the way that his eyes flit down to Leonidas' mouth, remembering the shape it made when it cried out his name, or kissed him there, and there—What little water there was in the Badlands has dried up.

There is an open question lingering in his words, one that seeks to test the temperature of Leonidas' response. Rhys in earnest had no idea he belonged to a pride, let alone the Oasis (though, at the time they'd first met he had indeed not been a prince of Andal yet). And if the idea of him was enough to leave him perturbed and pretending they'd never met, then Rhys was content to find the next best place.

A strange resignation, for a greedy bastard.

He must have a soft spot for the boy, after all.

There’s a glint in that wine-red eye that makes Leonidas’s stomach twist longingly uncomfortably. Not for a second does he trust this man, he realises, because he cannot - he knows secrets that no one else in this world knows about him. @Rhys is holding claws to his throat. He can't undo Nidas's life, but he could make it so much harder.

"I was hoping to join."

No, Leonidas almost says. His mouth opens and then shuts, slowly, when the word fails to come out. When he can't bring himself to say it. "My father is the king." He murmurs instead, lavender eyes locked on Rhys’s face. Unflinching, unafraid, despite the way his heart beats so fast it might explode. "He has very high expectations for every member of Andal. Myself included."

Does it hear it, the plead between his words?

"He'll be pleased to know I have a friend wanting to join."

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Rhys has been in similar situations enough before that the shift in Leonidas's demeanor is one that isn't wholly unfamiliar. Such situations were, of course, under far more dire circumstances—guising himself under an enemy banner in order to gain information, or simply wanting his true intentions to remain undiscovered until he was ready. By comparison, this should be far simpler, far easier. @Leonidas had asked him to keep one secret alone, and it was perhaps one of the easiest he could ever keep.

So why, pray tell, is it suddenly so difficult? Perhaps it is because they're alone, if only for a moment, and he clings onto the last time he saw the other man—writhing in pleasure beneath him.

Shit. Okay. Focus.

My father is the king.

Oh. Prince Leonidas, then?

He has very high expectations for every member of Andal, his friend breathes, and there's a purposeful inclination of his head, a hidden meaning beneath his words. Myself included.

Suddenly, things click into place. Rhys is not the only son destined to disappoint his father. At least he doesn't care what Kvare Tollaire thinks or doesn't think of him. Leonidas, however, appears an entirely different story. His demons very much haunted him.

He'll be pleased to know I have a friend wanting to join.

Rhys smiles, and if he is stung by the usage of friend he does not show it. In fact, there is hardly anything about him that is phased at all, as if he's been expecting this the entire time—as if he stumbled onto Andal knowing that Leonidas is here, knowing that his father is king, and knowing that his presence makes thing infinitely more difficult for the friend he'd made that day in the cacti.

He is hungry, after all. And nothing is more important to Rhys than himself.

A friend who will endeavor not to distract you from your duties, he replies in earnest, as if answering Leonidas' silent plea. I am best out in the field, as it is, should your father have need of a spy.

I wish it could be different.

The thought comes upon him suddenly, as he watches Rhys take in his words - the ones he says out loud and the ones laced in between. The rogue’s lips curl when he corrects himself, slipping that title before Leonidas’s name and the boy’s heart clenches. He hates it - he hates the title, the respect he’s automatically given, the expectations and responsibilities that come with being Scorpius Miroslav’s heir.

But he’s never wished for something different until this moment.

"A friend who will endeavour not to distract you from your duties."

A quicker, smarter, braver Leonidas would ask @Rhys if he would distract him occasionally, if he’d want to - but the prince standing in his place has the looming shadow of his father breathing down his neck, and he has no such wanton thoughts of other men.

"Thank you." He says instead, some of that tension easing, and replaced with a deep hollowness. I wish it could be different.

"You should tell him that." Rhys doesn't seem the type to hunt or recruit - Nidas can picture him so easily picking up gossip, spying, elegant and sleek in the dead of night.

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Absence post 1/5

"Tell me what?"

He hears the tail-end of the discussion, his son’s soft voice carrying only a little on the breeze. No matter how often Scorpius tells the boy to speak with his chest, like the prince he is, it seems to only sink in sometimes. It’s of no matter today; the king’s attention diverts to the stranger Leonidas speaks to. Tall, older than the boy but not yet in his prime. He’d called for a leader?

"Scorpius Miroslav." He says curtly. "Has Leonidas invited you into Andal yet?" Or, more plainly, is this boy here to join and been told the rules and expectations?

@Rhys

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For all his cunning and cruelty, Rhys is a man who also understands what it's like to reject birthrights. Unlike @Leonidas, however, he had no reason to feel any scrap of loyalty for his father at all. The man had not raised him. He had not been breathing down his neck from the moment he took his first breath. Perhaps if he had, things would be different. Perhaps he'd be stuck, just like this prince, knocking his knees and chattering his teeth at the mere proposition of straying from the path laid out for him.

Or perhaps he'd end up all the same. Nature, nurture, blah blah blah. He understands enough, at least, to give Leonidas this mercy.

Thank you, he says, and Rhys can practically see him ebb with relief. You should tell him that.

Tell me what?

Rhys' easy smile disappears as @Scorpius trudges from the heart of the territory. He carries himself with a poise and kingliness Rhys once dreamt of as a boy—when he still thought his father would return, gilded and crowned, to steal him and his mother away to paradise. Now, he sees nothing more than the man that he is: Ruthlessly powerful, and so very aware of it.

Scorpius Miroslav, he begins as Rhys turns, focusing his courtly gaze on the king. Has Leonidas invited you into Andal yet?

He was just making clear the expectations you have of your pride, he states, betraying nothing of the emotion beneath, Expectations I hope to exceed as your emissary, have you need of one.

I wish it could be different.

Why, when the secrecy and debauchery is so fun?

Finally, the corners of his mouth quirk upward again.

My name is Rhys Tollaire.

His name is the only thing his father ever gave him. And in these lands, it supposedly carries some weight. It's only his right to take advantage of it.

He spares a curious, yet apathetic glance at Leonidas.

"Tollaire?" This, more than anything, catches Scorpius’s full attention. Red eyes flick over Rhys’s face, studying the dark markings, the tell-tale signs of his bloodline clear once you knew what to look for. "Kvare’s son?" But of course he is - the Miroslav needs no reassurance.

"I have need of scouts," the king says thoughtfully, "and as much, my son could use motivation to continue his studies and duties as a prince and delegate of Andal." He can feel Leonidas cringe, and ignores it. "Perhaps you could work with him." There’s not much of an age between the two lions, but Rhys is clearly far more adept and capable than his lacklustre son.

"Welcome to Andal Oasis, Rhys. I look forward to seeing where your ambition takes you. I’ll leave Leonidas to show you around."

Exit.

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Tollaire?

He already regrets it. His period of anonymity was as blissful as it was brief. But in truth, Rhys has done little in trying to hide it; he looks Tollaire enough to anyone with a good pair of eyes can snuff out his parentage. He may have his mother's dark complexion, but everything else about him is forged of dragonfire through and through.

A shame he did not inherit the innate urge to dominate and conquer. A shame that he is here for nothing more than a meal ticket.

Kvare’s son?

He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he is everything charming smiles and eager nods.

I see his influence is as widespread as he claims, he laughs, smothering the nauseous turn in his stomach behind feigned delight, the pride a son should have his father. He sent me here with hopes of living up to his reputation.

He'll sooner smash it into a million fucking pieces.

Rhys spares a glance at @Leonidas, who looks like he may be just as nauseated.

I have need of scouts, @Scorpius muses earnestly, and Rhys feels the tension in his shoulders begin to wane, and as much, my son could use motivation to continue his studies and duties as a prince and delegate of Andal.

Oh. Fuck. He can't tell if that's good or bad.

Perhaps you could work with him.

Oh—oh yes. Rhys is plenty happy to work with the likes of Leonidas Miroslav.

Among other things.

Welcome to Andal Oasis, Rhys.

If only the king knew he had not let in a dragon, but a snake with paper wings who paraded around like one.

You honor me, Scorpius, he purrs, bowing his head and sending the king off with every ounce of deference he can muster. We'll get right to work.

He waits until the king is gone before he turns to Leonidas.

Won't we?

---

Exit Rhys.