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Macavity crouched low, green eyes glinting over the top of a rusted boxspring as he stared down into the large clearing at the center of the junkyard.
Old Deuteronomy sat on the tire as he usually did when he visited, listening with interest as an excited tom with a white forelock chattered away to him about something. The large old cat's expression appeared absolutely fascinated by whatever was being said to him, expression shifting and nodding when the situation called for it.
The red cat had to grudgingly admit the Jellicle Leader was a good listener, attentive and encouraging and never making one feel like he was humoring them.
Even when it was unlikely he had any idea what you were talking about.
A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned to watch two figures entered the clearing across from him. A powerfully built silver and black tabby and a short gold and black queen with a white bib. Even from this distance her subtle sensual grace was evident and he found his eyes drawn to her slender, well-defined curves.
Demeter.
With her sharply beautiful features and her smoky edged voice, hearkening to times gone by. To jazz lounges and dim candle lit rendezvous in cigar scented speakeasies.
With her smile like sunlight, always so unexpected, capable of completely transforming her face.
With her eyes like a pirate's treasure, the only gold richer then her coat. In turns piercing and judgmental, soft and adoring.
How he'd used to love to make her face go from tight and lonely to lit up like a sunrise just by appearing beside her.
Now all his presence brought to her face was rage and fear.
Down below the golden queen looked up at the silver tabby, smile wide and sudden as the sun peaking through the clouds.
He could see the slight crinkle in her nose, the widening of her eyes, the curve of her ruby mouth, as if she was standing in front of him.
She used to look at him with such love in her eyes!
It galled him to see that look being given to anyone else, but to his brother of all cats! Munkustrap, the awkward little crybaby, the scaredy-cat always hiding in his shadow. Fools, everyone of them! How quickly they forgot!
So busy fawning over their precious Prince, admiring their Lead Protector. Bah! It wouldn't last! Someday this tribe would turn their backs on Munkustrap, someday they would not have anymore use for him. Then Munk would come crawling back to him, know he was right about them all along! The tribe was full of nothing but stupid, self-serving sycophants and someday they'd show their true colors!
Though they were certainly taking their own sweet time about it.
It was almost like . . . they weren't like that at all.
Macavity's magic, which had bubbled and flared along with his raising temper, fizzled out at that thought. His claws flexed before he clutched his hands into fists.
No. No, they were like that! They were fake and manipulative! Voicing underhanded platitudes and hating his for his incredible powers. They banished him when he called them out.
Though . . . he had been getting out of hand, hadn't he? He had hurt people, burned them without remorse and had only been getting worse. He had done that.
Had his father's banishment actually been justified?
No! Old Deuteronomy had tossed his own flesh and blood in the gutter, abandoned him like refuse! There was no reason, no justification for such an act! For such a betrayal!
Though . . . he had cried . . . as he had made that fateful proclamation. Old Deuteronomy had begged him to stop, offered him help to control his anger, control his magic.
Macavity had refused, thinking it an attempt the control him. Lashing out more, raging against the constraints that leashed him.
What if there had been no leash?
What if his banishment had been his own fault?
The thought settled in his stomach like rancid fish, making him feel queasy.
No. No, that couldn't be. It was their fault, not his.
Unfortunately, he was the only person he'd never been able to lie to successfully.
Feeling suddenly lost and very small, he looked back down into the clearing. He watched as Old Deuteronomy smiled brightly at a white kitten who came up beside him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close.
Unconsciously, his arms wrapped around himself, one hand sliding up to grip his shoulder while the other clutched at his waist. He could remember what those hugs felt like, the memory surging to the forefront of his mind with a vengeance. His father's arms were surprisingly strong and warm as the thickest blanket ever made. They made you feel safe and loved and cared for like nothing else.
And he'd never feel them again.
And it was his own damn fault.
Just like Demeter leaving him had been.
He'd taken every good thing in his life, every loving relationship he'd ever had, and burnt it down, breaking it beyond repair.
What good was regret to him now? What good was being sorry when none of it could ever be fixed? There would be no making right, no redemption.
He'd gotten everything he had always wanted, built his empire and crowned himself king. There was no one around to tell him how to live his life, to criticize his actions.
No one had ever told him how lonely getting everything you ever wanted would be.
No one ever told him one day he'd yearn for his father's hugs like a drowning man yearned for air.
No one ever told him how much it'd hurt that he couldn't go home.
He never thought he'd want to go back home.
He wished he still had a home.