To tame a Lioness

"Pull her in!"

"No! Let go of me! No!"

The shrill scream of a young girl could be heard as she was dragged roughly by a big man through the sand, kicking her legs and thrashing helplessly with tears filling her eyes.

"Leave me!!" She twisted her hands again but the man was stronger.

He stopped when he reached a see-through hut made from palms and wood, the oppressive stench of sweat, blood, and despair filled the air in the cramped slave hut.

Opening the wooden door, he kicked the slender girl inside it before shutting the door.

The girl screamed, sand and dirt covering her body as she rolled into the hut, hitting a few slaves who were sitted quietly in the space.

"No!" She stood up almost immediately she rolled and ran to the entrance, pounding against the wooden door that was shut while ignoring the splinters digging into her palms.

"Get me out of here!" she yelled, her voice laced with venom. "Do you hear me, Yovana?! I am not one of your toys!"

A vein could be seen popping in her head as her voice, raw from screaming, reverberated in the humid space.

"My dear Amara..." A voice suddenly started, causing the girl to turn her attention from the guardsmen.

Outside, Prince Yovana exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes gleaming with an almost perverse amusement.

The cigarette between his fingers was a rare luxury brought by the white traders, and he handled it with a casual elegance that belied the cruelty of his soul.

The thick smoke curled around his face, underlining his sharp, angular features and the dark shadow of his beard.

Yovana ignored her remarks and gave her a smug smile, "You really should save your breath, you know," he drawled, his voice smooth and low, with a dangerous edge.

He flicked the cigarette ash to the ground with a practiced nonchalance.

Gently, he strode towards the hut and Amara went back to kicking the door frantically again.

"The white men will arrive in four days time for more slaves," he paused, looking at the other slaves in the hut who were now bound, some bleeding while others covered the dirt.

Amara froze hearing that but kept her expression intact regardless.

"I believe they will be more than glad to have a maiden like you..." He eyed her up and down with a hint of lust in his eyes, "...since you've refused to honor the good I offered you-"

He had not finished speaking when Amara suddenly spat on his face, silencing him as he moved back in shock.

The guards and maids watching this gasped at this action as they looked at the girl who had the audacity to spit on Prince Yovana.

The salive smeared on his left cheek and dripped down irritatingly, making him turn red in anger.

"Your Highness!" A maid ran to him with a towel as quick as she could but before she even got close, Yovana had cleaned it off with his hand.

The maid immediately picked his hand and cleaned away the slime before moving back as fast as she could so she would not partake of the prince's wrath as he had a hard time controlling himself.

"You wench!" He cursed at her but Amara did not stop there.

Seeing her action had infuriated him, she smiled triumphantly before ranting,

"You're a coward, Yovana." she turned to face him through the gaps in the wooden slats.

Her piercing gaze met his, unyielding despite the situation.

"You hide behind your guards, your wealth, and your power. You think that makes you a man?! It doesn't. You're nothing but a coward!"

Yovana's expression remained unreadable for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. Then, he laughed—a low, chilling sound that sent a shiver through the slaves huddled inside the hut.

"A coward?" he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery.

He took another long drag from his cigarette before letting the smoke escape slowly from his nostrils. "You've got quite the mouth for someone who's about to be shackled and sold like cattle."

He stepped closer to the hut, his polished boots crunching against the sand, and leaned casually against the wooden frame.

His eyes scanned Amara, taking in her disheveled hair and dirt-streaked face with an infuriating smirk.

"I gave you a choice," he continued, his tone turning cold. "You could've had everything—a comfortable life, fine clothes, and all the luxuries this miserable world can offer. All you had to do was warm my bed. Instead, you chose this." he rounded his hand on the hut for the slaves with a mocking expression.

Amara's stomach churned with disgust, but she refused to let him see her falter.

"I'd rather die a slave than let you touch me," she hissed, her voice steady despite the tears pricking her eyes. "You may have taken my freedom, but you'll never have my dignity."

At the mention of that, Yovana hissed.

His smirk faded, his expression hardening. He straightened, flicking the remains of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot.

"Dignity?" he repeated, his voice laced with venom. "We'll see how much dignity you have left when the white men take you. They'll strip you of everything—your name, your family, your very soul. And when they're done with you, you'll beg to come back to me."

Amara's chest heaved with fury, but she held her ground, glaring at him with unrelenting hatred.

"You're worse than they are," she said, her voice trembling with rage. "At least they don't pretend to be something they're not. But you? You're a monster hiding behind a prince's title."

Yovana's jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—anger, maybe even hurt—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He stepped back, gesturing to his guards.

"Leave her here," he ordered, his voice icy. "Let her rot with the others. She made her choice."

"No! Get me out of here! Now! No!" Amara began kicking the door again, almost angering the other slaves in it.

Prince Yovana strode away from the slave hut with the same confidence that made people lower their heads in his presence.

His cape of rich, royal blue swayed behind him as his boots left deliberate impressions in the sand.

He moved with the ease of a man who believed the world was his to command, every step a declaration of his importance.

Yes! Moremi was right. He was a narcissistic man.

The muffled screams of Amara followed him, her defiance being slowly extinguished. It was something that had happened one too many times and they all knew how it ended.

People like Amara were always silenced.

The subtle flick of Yovana's eyes toward the guard who had dragged her there was all it took.

The man on seeing the signal immediately nodded quietly before making his way to the hut.

Within moments, the air grew eerily still. Amara's voice, which had burned with pure rage and desperation, became nothing but a distant whisper.

She could no longer be heard again.

Yovana smiled, the corner of his mouth lifted in a self-satisfied smirk. "So predictable," he murmured, savoring the silence.

As he reached the main entrance to the inner palace, the guards snapped to attention, their eyes fixed straight ahead, daring not to meet his gaze.

His aura filled the space before he even entered it—oppressive, proud, and heavy with the kind of danger that could smile at you one moment and slit your throat the next.

The servants scurried out of sight, bowing their heads low, as if his very presence could tarnish their souls.

That was what he wanted. For people to fear him and cower at his sight and he made sure to bring to ruin the few who tried to challenge him.

His reputation preceded him: a prince filled with unquenchable pride, merciless in his whims, and unforgiving in his wrath.

He took long strides in the palace's pathway but slowed down when he noticed a familiar figure.

"Ah, Vekar," Yovana drawled, barely turning his head. His voice was smooth as silk but sharp as a blade. "Is the girl silenced?"

A tall, wiry man suddenly appeared beside him, walking just a step behind him as it was disrespectful to walk ahead of a prince.

"O- of course, Your Highness," Vekar responded with a tight grin. "She'll be quieter than the grave from now on."

"Good," Yovana muttered. "I tire of senseless noise." He commented with irritation.

Vekar, his handy man and someone the prince had always sought for information followed him, a scroll held on his left hand as they walked.

The two men made their way through the grand marble halls, the walls adorned with Azuran banners that depicted scenes of conquest and glory.

Every detail told a story and on the high pillar stood a carving— one that every Azuran carried on their arm as a tribal mark.

It featured a majestic lion's head surrounded by curved lines and spiral patterns symbolizing the kingdom's strength.

It was the same mark Moremi had seen on the Azuran man who had been making a bargain with the whites the day at the forest.

Yovana prominently carried that mark on his right arm.

Seeing the young man following him, Yovana already knew there was important news for him.

"Speak," he commanded.

Abruptly, Vekar cleared his throat and started.

"Your father, the king received a message from Mandinga's king today, Your Highness," He said, matching Yovana's stride with a calculating air. "He has accepted the alliance. The princess is to be your bride."

This news had Yovana pause in his steps for a minute to look at his handy man.

"Accepted the alliance?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, Your Highness." Vekar curtly bowed in answer before bringing forward the scroll for the prince to read.

Yovana looked a bit taken aback by this information. He collected the scroll and opened it before reading the words on the parchment.

Vekar continued, "It says there that the king of Mandinga is willing to give his daughter out in marriage." His words were short as he let Yovana read the things written there.

Strange, Yovana thought.

He knew a bit about the Mandinga's king.

Jelani had never been one to entertain their kingdom for many reasons so when his father asked that he wrote a marriage alliance to the princess, he had not taken it serious.

He only obeyed his father for formalities sake.

When he noticed Vekar was staring at him, he immediately recomposed himself, hiding the shock.

"I see," his eyes sparked with intrigue, and he tilted his head slightly, an indulgent smile spreading across his face.

"At last," he mused, his voice a whisper of satisfaction.

"The Mandingan princess… Moremi, is it?"

"Yes, Moremi," Vekar confirmed, casting a wary glance at his master. "Her beauty is said to be unmatched, rare even among the finest women of her land."

Yovana was aware of that.

Though he had never had opportunity to meet this beautiful woman, he knew the circumstances surrounding her birth and how the Moon Goddess had created an extraordinary beauty for the barren king.

What would it hurt to have such a property as his wife?

He chuckled softly, the sound dark and possessive. "A treasure worth claiming I will say." And then he went back to walking.

"Her father has invited us for her coronation that will hold in two days time. He would like to introduce you to his daughter when she is crowned princess." Vekar continued speaking even thought the prince had read the parchment.

Yovana hummed to this, finding it amusing, "Is there no specific reason to why this king suddenly agrees to an alliance with us? Are you certain he does not have ulterior motives?" Yovana finally asked what was on his mind.

"I do not know anything of that, Your Highness but I know this union is going to be a rare type." He said and Yovana nodded, understanding what he meant.

Moremi was going to be the first Queen there ever has been of any kingdom so if he married her, he would be the first King consort.

Not only that, he was also going to be king himself.

A consort and a King at the same time.

That was something that has barely ever happened in history and knowing his father, Yovana knew the man will never miss the opportunity to be involved in such rare makings.

"I wouldn't mind making her my wife. What are women for anyway?" He said, thinking he would probably be able to have two kingdoms under his control if a woman was going to be Queen to it.

Yes.

Yovana saw women with little value so the idea of Moremi being Queen felt almost as though no one will rule for Mandinga.

To him, it would be an opportunity to rule two kingdoms at the same time.

Vekar who already understood what the narcassistic prince would be thinking rubbed his temples contemplatively for a moment, wondering if he should say what he was about to say.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, drawing Yovana's attention.

"She is… very spirited, Your Highness. She is no ordinary woman whom you can wrap around your fingers," he warned, waiting to see Yovana's reaction and when the prince gave him a confused look, he continued.

"Word is, she defies her father often. A fierce huntress with a will of iron. Very courageous. A man might find it… challenging to control her." Vekar explained, hoping his words wouldn't annoy the prince.

Yovana scoffed, finding this statement especially funny, his pride swelling visibly. He puffed his chest, his hands clasped behind his back as they walked.

"Spirited, stubborn, fierce…" He rattled off the words as though they were mere trifles. "I have broken stallions wilder than this girl. What is one willful princess compared to the beasts I've tamed?"

Vekar raised an eyebrow, his expression amused but skeptical. "She is not like others you've dealt with, Your Highness. Princess Moremi of Mandinga is…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Unpredictable."

"Unpredictable?" Yovana stopped walking, turning fully toward Vekar.

"Yes, Your Highness," he replied with his head low.

Yovana laughed, finding what his handy man was saying to be ridiculous.

"A woman, no matter how strong-willed, is still a woman, Vekar. They all bow eventually—some sooner, some later. I will handle her as I've handled the rest."

His eyes gleamed with dangerous arrogance. "There is no challenge too great for me."

"But–"

Vekar wanted to continue, to speak about the things this Mandingan princess had done but one look from Yovana had him shut up immediately.

He knew that death stare.

"O-o-of course, Your Highness," Vekar murmured with a half-smile, "I trust you'll tame her." He said and Yovana's expression returned back to normal.

He dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

It was clear from his attitude that he had no knowledge of Moremi.

To him, the Mandingan princess was probably a hyped individual because of her miracle birth.

She may roar like a lioness, but she will learn to purr, he thought in his head as his smile darkened while he strode ahead with his head high.

...

Little did he know that Moremi was not a lioness who could be tamed.

She was the storm, and Yovana was far from ready to weather her wrath.