"Zira," Tojo gasped for breath, "Why does this keep happening?" His birds twittered nervously, quietly, and he raised a paw to his shoulder, stroking their feathers and comforting them.

The older lioness did not answer, and her chest constricted with pain when Tojo's blue eyes darkened in misery. "Oh, Stars," he wheezed, as if he thought they could help him, "I wish I could understand what..." But time and time again, whenever Zira broke down, he cried even more than she, failing to understand the depth of her sadness, though Zira had a feeling he felt more agonized than she did.

"I miss Piga, too, Zira, I miss her so much, you know I liked her, but—oh, what am I saying? She was your sister, of course you still..." He was blubbering. "This life's... not like we wanted it, huh?"

Zira almost told him that it was more than that, but her maw wasn't working suddenly.

Such a decision... she never thought she'd have to make.

While he struggled to compose himself, Zira took the time to study him. His bright nose was wet from the tears leaking down his face, and his adolescent mane looked even more disheveled than was the norm. It wasn't even a half-mane; a tuft upon his head, spreading to the back of his neck significantly, and a rather bushy shock of manefur on his front, covering his paler chest markings from sight. As most young lions did at this age, he somehow looked... incomplete.

Without Piga, Zira thought, he just may be... She wondered if she could ever be enough for the younger lion, when the time came. Or perhaps he would be disgusted by how much older she was in comparison, for even daring to consider he would ever see her in that way. The sister of the dead lioness he had so pursued? Zira and Piga were teenagers then while he was a still a cub, what did that say?

Piga was the same age as you, a little voice whispered to her. That was different. How? She couldn't think of how. It just was. Piga had always been so much more than her, she was always the happier one, the sister easier to get along with. Zira had envied her, people liked her scruffy, friendly smile on sight but always seemed to make some sort of mental note to avoid Zira at all costs.

In Zira's mind, no one was listening.

Piga was the agreeable one. She had been a conformist, so naturally everyone else gravitated to her. Zira had never done any such thing, she frowned—well, more snarled, at the masses that seemed to think exactly alike.

On the other hand, Piga had still been a conformist. She followed Zira around, did her bidding, and accompanied her on whatever actually uniquely interesting adventure the sharp-featured sister could find. Piga hung on to every word Zira had said and tried to make sense of it, but like everyone else, often failed. To this day Zira loved the easygoing, good-intentioned though a bit self-absorbed girl unconditionally.

To this day, as well, she could not fathom the reason anyone would ever murder her. Why anyone did murder her...

"Zira."

Zira stood, and sprinted, intending to go back to Priderock. I don't know which way I need to go, she realized. She was unfamiliar still with the Royal lands.

Shocked, Tojo scrambled to her side after a pause, only just managing to keep up. "Zira! Zi—what—what in the name of the Great Kings—?"

"They can't," she said, heart pounding in her chest.

He took a great gulping breath of air. "They—what?"

"They can't be doing this to me. She can't be." She knew she must have looked and sounded manic to him, but she could not find it within herself to care.

"She can't be what? Who is—" Zira heard him falter for a moment, and knew he had guessed right; whether he really thought she meant Piga or not.

She slid to a stop before him. Tojo nearly tripped over his own feet in order to not hit her. He stared. "Go back to the pride. You're a young male with itching paws, they won't question your absence, not even that aunt of yours," She spat out the word. Sarabi. "Scar cannot find you, he would think I was being unfaithful to him." She could see that made him blink dumbly several times at the notion, and felt a spark of pain. No, he would never want her, not even for a moment.

But there was time for such despair later. Fear was pulsing through her veins, and she pondered where she had dug up the strength to keep her voice so steady.

"Wha... with someone my age?" As if to demonstrate this, Tojo's voice cracked with the tell-tale sign of puberty. "Are you alright? What—"

If Zira heard her young friend say what one more time, she would truly lose her sanity. "Go!"

He was wide-eyed for a few seconds... and then he left. She watched him go until his form was completely hidden by the tall grasses.

She was alone.

The moon shone overhead, and she felt, deep in her core, where she must go.


Something kept bringing her back, time after time.

By the time Zira caught sight of that damned, familiar tree, the sky had lightened by the slightest. If she had not used all of the speed she could muster, the sun would have already risen by then. The very outskirts of the Royal Pridelands, though not quite the Outlands. The grasses were still green, though more broken up by dry patches of dirt, too loose for plant growth.

"I came back, Sister," she called, knowing there was no one near and yet aware that there was. As she came ever closer, she caught sight of dusty bones, covered in the gnawmarks of various animals. She felt a rush of irrational anger. How dare any creature try and defile Piga's remains?

Some bones were missing, and this did not surprise her, either. The skull was still there, however, and that was all she really needed.

She lay down on her side, pulling it to her chest. Her sister's skull. "I swear to you, Piga, I will find who did this to you. I will make them pay." One day, someday... oh, savannah, I need you here. As childish as you were.

Whoever it had been just may have killed Karibua, as well. He had vanished on the exact same day. This thought made her seethe even more. Two of her closest friends: gone, that quickly!

Karibua had been older than Tojo, but younger than Zira and Piga. Zira remembered his multicolored pair of eyes clear as a cloudless day, red, yellow, and orange. He always seemed to be deep in thought.

If Piga had never died, Zira and Tojo would have never been found by the hyenas, surrounded, evaluated by the King himself... and then accepted under Scar's reign, and they were both beginning to wonder how good this truly was. Well, Tojo had been suspicious the entire time, but Zira saw the red lion as her savior of sorts. Zira could faintly remember she and her sister meeting Scar briefly when they were small.

Maybe Sarabi and Sarafina and all the others had come across the sisters as cubs as well, but she could not recall, and did not really care to. If they had played together back in those days, that was then. Zira knew better than to 'hang out' with a so-called "pure Pridelander," now.

Her distant memories painted a fuzzy picture of a red, green-eyed young male with a half-mane, much like Tojo's was now but a little bigger. It was more well-kept, slicker and blacker than the rivers at night, but what stood out to her most were his striking green eyes that seemed to glow.

Back then, it had been with the unwitting optimism many had when they were young, even Scar was that way, once; although that glow was still there, the good expectations were not.

His gaze shone with some inner strength that none could ever understand, Zira could not even begin to imagine what kind of hardship he had undergone to change so starkly. Not to mention the name alteration, she knew without a doubt it had happened because he could not have been born with a scar, from the stories she had heard, the previous Queen Uru had not been so careless as to let her cubs be injured within her own womb.

The scar...

She shuddered to think of it. No one ever brought it up. There had been gossip back in the Riverpride: Ahadi was a Star-forsaken bastard of a King, they said, A ruffian just as his lineage foretold. His birthpride taught him to turn cubkiller, and so he did. "Cubkiller" had startled her, and Piga more so. Neither had ever heard the term before. Zira had always been scolded for being too morbidly curious, thus no one would answer her questions. Piga had, for once, refused to go along with Zira's plans to find out.

Pansy! Zira had called her, Quit being so naïve! Count on nothing! You'll never make it without me guiding your tail the whole way! She wished she had never said anything.

More memories sprung up, being ushered out of the Pridelands eagerly by Royalty that wanted her gone, that hated her mother for reasons no one would tell her, the mother that had abandoned Piga and she with them soon after birth. Days after, at the end of a tiresome journey with some lionesses she and Piga barely knew, welcomed into the Riverpride.

Being a tween and curiously peeking in to the den that had so many noises coming from it the night before, and then suddenly being introduced to a little puff of fur with closed eyes and closed ears which everyone called 'Tojo.'

She remembered watching the little male prance around Piga whenever he could, sky-blue eyes shining with admiration, and recollected feeling a little jealous. Not so much for the reason she had liked Tojo then—no, then, he had just been a hyperactive little friend of hers. She felt jealous because yet again, Piga had proven to be more likeable than her.

All Tojo did was focus his attention on the darker-furred sister and only ever turn to Zira to tease and occasionally play. That is, when he was not visiting the Royal Pride, especially after his Aunt Sarabi's son, Tojo's cousin, Simba, was birthed.

Simba had long since died with Mufasa, and Sarabi seemed to cherish Tojo more than ever, along with her other blood-nephew and single blood-niece, Malka and Tama. Piga and Zira themselves had never seen Simba, but from the wildfire news spreading, apparently he was the carbon copy of Mufasa or something.

Tojo said this was untrue, Simba had Auntie Sarabi's eyes, he'd recognize them anywhere! Everyone was so silly! His Momma told him it was impossible for a kid to look exactly like one of their parents, and if his Momma said it, then it was true! Oh, and Tojo wasn't that much of a klutz, either, if they were talking about rumors! Trees and rocks just liked get in his way and hurt him and make him trip everywhere!

Oh, and his birds. He didn't care if lions ate birds, he loved his birdies!

By that point, Zira and Tojo both fell into fits of giggling, snorting laughter that left them breathless at his adamant claims. This was the start of the two becoming close, as it was one of the rare times Piga was not near to grab all of Tojo's attention. Tojo finally begun to see she was not as creepy as everyone said she looked... he still teased, but it was well-meant.

There were times when it felt like her world was caving in, but Tojo had always been her outlet, more than Piga, her own sister, was. The bright girl could never understand that there was badness in lions out there. She'd just tell Zira to cheer up and that would fix everything.

It did not.

It was no secret Sarabi did not approve of her nephew's association with Zira. It did not seem to occur to the former Queen that they had withstood the collapse of an entire pride, their beloved Riverpride, into extinction. Piga, Zira and Tojo had been the only survivors of the massacre, and it only made sense they would grow so close after such a trauma. Even Tojo's birds grew solemn.

But no, Sarabi stayed resentful of Zira, for befriending her nephew and being the daughter of... oh, what was her name again? Msiba. The dreaded, hated, murderous, petite-yet-deadly Msiba, daughter of Zinga, and something-else-blah... whatever. Zira couldn't care less for her own bloodline.

A short time after the Riverpride's desecration, the wandering trio had met Karibua and Xithoga. Xithoga Zira had never really gotten along with, she was crazier than Tojo when he was ultra-hyper.

Xithoga had left during the middle of their journey to find a new place to stay with great hesitance. She was very attached to Karibua, more than the dark-brown male realized, but she knew her birthpride, the Shadowpride, was her true place; to help the other lionesses they had known survive.

Karibua told her he would come back someday to the Shadow, when he was older and stronger, when he could take down the lion, Yekkopa, that had taken over their pride, killed both his parents and exiled him as the only male cub from the previous reign.

Xithoga retorted that he had better, because she hadn't watched her mother and his mother die, chosen self-exile to follow him in defiance, and then come crawling back to that damned pseudo-King for nothing.

Tail high, she left with those words still hanging in the air. Karibua's mouth almost touched the ground. It was the first time Xithoga hadn't spoken so many sentences without her trademark annoying bubbliness shining through.

More images from the past: the elephants rampaging, their giant feet smashing everything and everyone in its path, the lionesses that had raised Zira and her sister as their own hiding them away with Tojo, then rushing back out to retrieve whatever other cubs they could...

...and never returning.

When Scar learnt of this, he promised to exile the elephant herd that had done this. He personally chaperoned her to a meeting with all the herds residing in the Pridelands, and told her to pick whichever she recognized. Tojo had been there, too, Scar did not listen to him as much.

Zira had been vaguely aware of the older lion's eyes raking her form, but had been too consumed by vengeance to give a zebra hide about it.

At once she spotted her, a large dark blue-gray elephant matriarch with a broken tusk and deep midnight-blue eyes that haunted her since the incident.

Sarabi had protested, much to Zira's disbelief, and Tojo's dismay. Zira had never seen the young lion so... vindictive.

Sarabi claimed that by exiling the elephant herd, Scar would be disrupting the Circle of Life, and it had not been their fault, while it was true that what had happened to the Riverpride was a tragedy, especially because her sister Hadharani, Tojo's mother, of all things was a member of it—Zira snorted at these words and even Tojo's mouth thinned, taking her words as insincerity—the wildebeest herd had spooked them, the same herd that had killed her husband and son.

Scar smirked at her and told her outright that she could not always get her way, no matter what her title used to have been (emphasis on used), and she should not use the death of her mate and child as an excuse.

Tojo had looked visibly alarmed by the unfamiliar dark rage on his aunt's face.

Tojo had apparently since reconciled with his aunt since then, and joined his aunt in distrusting their King, to Zira's chagrin.

It was the banishment of the elephant herd that had caused she, her sister, and Tojo so much pain that finally drew her in to the King, the one she had met once so long ago as a mere background-Prince, set aside for a rainy day when Mufasa was away. Zira wondered if he remembered her at all like she did he, but she doubted it.

He always made her smile and treated her as if she were royalty as much as he was. Zira's heart and body felt light in his presence.

And recently he had made her an offer.

Queenship. Her heart stopped every time at the thought. She had dignity in herself, but never once had Zira so much as fantasized... and with him.

None of the other lionesses in the pride would suffice, he insisted. She was to be his, that was all he wanted and nothing more.

To be more than Piga was, far more... as shameful as that greedy thought was. But Piga would wish for her happiness, would she not?

Now, Zira was not blind. She knew Scar wanted cubs, heirs; but what ruler with a head on their shoulders did not? What was more, he chose her. Her. He. Favored. Her. Zira already worshiped the very ground the elder lion walked on, she was convinced she could grow to love him.

But not like how she loved Tojo. It would be a better love than what she felt for Tojo. There would be no doubt, no lingering heartbreak, no wavering self-esteem. Oh, savannah, how Scar could make her feel like she was Queen of everything.

Perhaps it would never be as deep as her feelings for Tojo. But it would be true, and loyal, without the ever overhanging possibility of Tojo's instinctual nature as a male to overwhelm his mind, Royalty did not have that, you see, to make him leave his mate the next morning and never return, and—

"Zira."

"NO!" Zira screamed, slamming to her paws. "Shut up! Shut up! Go away! I love you, but why are you trying to take this away from me?" She whirled around, piercing red eyes cutting in every direction, looking—looking, for something, for someone— "Do you just not want me to find some goodness? Some stability? Do all these roads lead me back to you, you selfish girl? Do you think that just because everyone liked you and not me, that you should try and steer nice things away from me even after death?" The last two words came out as a deafening roar she could feel vibrate and rumble within her, to her very center.

"Zira."

Then it was absolutely silent again.

It was like some crushing pressure had been relieved. Zira slumped onto her haunches, breathing deeply to recapture her lungs' air.

She stood. She was going home. Not to the River pride, anymore—to Priderock.

Scar expected a reply, and she fully intended to give him one.

As she turned, she thought she almost heard another whisper on the morning wind, but she feigned ignorance.

"Zira. You don't know..."

Zira quickened her step.

"...please, you don't know..."

Zira's claws pricked out and dug little trenches in the ground as she trotted. She might not have memorized the Royal Pridelands completely, but she was sure she'd find her way eventually.

"He's still alive... both of them..." The wind became fainter here and her ears could not catch it all.

"Si—...—bua..."

She ran.


Sarabi's ilk did not like Zira.

They never had.

Zira wasn't sure why, really. She had never done anything against them, it was they whom refused to stop constantly contradicting their King, of all things! It should be no mystery why Zira snapped at them. The more time that passed, the more the dislike became mutual.

She also knew it was rather narrowminded of her, but with each coming day she found herself drawn away from others with bulkier frames, with fuller noses and cheeks. Scar's philosophical words filled her head, "They are nothing but brawn and no brain. It is we, the seemingly weaker, with our sharp faces and thinner noses, that are superior." She scowled at the natural beauty of these lions, understanding that there was no reason to be green; she could outrun their thick legs and fat heads anyday.

She could even beat Tojo in speed. Tojo was an exception to her distaste for "true Prideland" lions, as she could sometimes hear them call themselves, but then Tojo had always been the exception.

The other lionesses of the pride looked like her, the ones Scar had recruited after his rule, like he had with Zira and Tojo (Scar had only let in the male after learning the blue-eyed cub was Sarabi's blood-nephew, and even then it was grudging). She trusted them more, and as she glanced at them she could see the encouraging smiles on their hollowed faces, the kind looks in their glaring eyes, and felt certain that Scar had not spared them from his preachings.

Zira did not want to look in the direction of Sarafina, Sarabi, and the rest, but knew she must for Tojo. She looked.

Damn him, he looked as confused as when she last saw him! Perhaps even more. Most likely, he had been neglected to be told of Scar's proposal to her. Truly, if he were not Sarabi's nephew and his being chased away would cause a rebellious uproar in the pride than what was already threatening to burst, Tojo would not even be there. Zira was immensely grateful to Scar for that mercy to top it all off with everything else.

Zira tried to give him a small smile, and it worked, for he seemed to relax somewhat.

Oh, Sarabi did not look happy. The spawn of Msiba, being put into a position of power? And so young? Flirting with her nephew? What madness was this?

If Zira did not feel extremely self-conscious and acutely aware that this was a defining moment in her life, and possibly all the others' as well, she would have just went ahead and spat at the lioness. The arrogant previous Queen could not hide her opinion, so blatantly displayed on her face. Instead she sent a short, hateful glare.

Zira could very well get the old wretch kicked out with the elephants, soon. Good things come to those who wait.


Virescent eyes staring into her soul. "Well?" The darkness of the maincave hid the rest of his dark form well. His mane was nearly invisible.

"Yes."

White, sharp teeth pierced the darkness. "I knew you would agree."


"What are you doing, Zira? Scar... he isn't safe." Anxious chittering and flapping feathers, feathers as blue as his eyes.

"Tojo. I know you care for me, and you are my best and only friend, but please: trust me. I know what I'm doing, I've thought long and hard on this. For days. It's not as if I'm going in blind. I'm surprised he waited so long for my answer."

"Zira... I really think you're walking a fine line, here—"

Zira thought she had heard enough of that from the wispy breeze. "Goodnight, my friend. I will see you at sunrise."


"Zira."

Zira ignored the familiar, transparent frame that watched her the entire night. An air of disappointment and sadness wreathed over and through her, and it wracked at her soul.

She thought of Tojo.

"It's alright if you're missing him."

She didn't miss him.

"Yes, you do."

By some shot of luck, she managed to get some sleep.


It was morning.

The ceremony.

Zira stretched and stood. No longer would she be forced to share the same sleeping quarters as Sarabi's kind. When the day was done, she would be resting beside the King.

Piga was gone.

The sun was as unforgiving as ever, as Zira noticed as she approached the presentation rock that there were less animals than she would have expected of the Royalpride (not counting the obvious), but she dared not voice this observation to the King's face.

She walked up, eyes trained on the silhouette at the top. As an afterthought, she glanced around for Tojo, but he was nowhere to be seen. As an act of disapproval, Sarabi and her followers were not attending the event. Zira felt hot red anger sear in her, how dare Sarabi keep her only friend away from her? At such an important time in her life? Oh, she would punish them herself if Scar did not get to them first for the disrespect!

Scar's followers, however, were there, and they were grinning at her. They would do. For now.

A moment later and Scar's flank was brushing hers. The feeling sent tingles up Zira's spine.

Rafiki had to be somewhere. After the ceremony she was meant to receive some herbs from him that would bless her, or something superstitious like that.

She roared in triumph at finally beating her sister in life, and the other lanky lionesses—her kin, now, for all she was concerned—rumbled with her, and then Scar did, too. Nothing could have described the feeling of hearing her own voice mix with his.

An image of a haunting young lioness flashed across her minds' eye, unexpected, unwanted, uncalled for, with broken tears streaking her muzzle at the fate of a sister the girl could hardly recognize anymore—Zira almost choked on her own spit.

Before Scar could inquire, she recovered and started up again. In Scar's eyes, Zira could live again, and she intended to do just that. No ghost would ruin this chance for her. None could take this away from her.

Hyenas cackled below.

When it was done, Scar allowed her to rest her head under his chin, looking regally down at the rapidly yellowing Pridelands and diminishing prey animals that looked like ants from this view. She felt pure and whole. At that moment, she felt it appropriate not to feel anything else again, all she wanted was to breathe easy again.

The wind flew by her, but it held no mystical feel to it. I can't see the signs. She felt a bit concerned for a second or two, but then realized she did not need some royal dead lions watching her every move, anyway, and Scar did not seem troubled by it.

Speaking of Scar, he just pulled her closer, ever so slightly.

She smiled so hard she thought her face would split.

Free within.

"Zira."


Authoress' Note:

Inspired by the song, "Going in Blind," by the music group P.O.D. I incorporated the lyrics as well as I could into the story without seeming out of place, can you find them?

I hope you enjoyed, and please review—this story fits in with another TLK one of mine, though much has been changed since I last updated it, and I do mean a lot. Critique and comments are greatly appreciated!

~Celeste