A/N: This is it! Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this so far. I will answer my reviewers (at this time) in a short note at the bottom. This chapter, unlike the first, links more closely with its predecessor. It does centre around 'The Madness of King Scar' and the repercussions thereof, though it shall hardly be black-and-white, since I prefer not to deal in moral or emotional absolutes. The only warning is for indirect reference to mature themes.

Part III:

HUNTRESS

The role of a huntress was clear - seek, obtain, provide. Moreover, a huntress did not flee – a huntress pursued. Yet here she was, scampering down the slopes and steps of Pride Rock as fast as her paws would take her, digging in with her claws as she slid ever downward towards the safety of the earth, as far from that cave as possible.

His voice was stuck in her ears like honey, and was as cloyingly sweet. Each word stung her brain like a bee, repeating endlessly, like she was some dumb cub who couldn't pull herself away from it.

"Dear, sweet Nala," he crooned. "This is the only way, don't you see? We can save the pride - bring new life into a dead land. All you have to do is say 'yes'."

She shook her head. He both made sense and did not make sense. He was perfectly right, and this was perfectly wrong. He knew her fears, and she should hate him for using them - but he was not using them, not really. He was simply speaking the plain truth, a truth she was not ready to hear. Her heart pounded in her ears as he edged in closer then, his sweet words taking on a bitter edge - a beast prowling out of sight, hidden among sunlit grasses.

"What would your mother think?" he murmured. "And your pridesisters? The Great Spirit stole so many of our cubs that day, and the drought steals the new litters. You could bring back what was taken from you - from all of us. Be my queen."

"No, Scar," she whispered, denying everything, every word, every idea, because she could not afford to agree.

"You know you really have no choice. One way or another, I need strong cubs, cubs that will survive these troubled times. You are strong, Nala-"

- she hated the way he said her name, rhyming syllables that rolled off his tongue, appraising, intimate, enunciated in a way no other had ever said it - it wasn't his to say, there was only one who should ever have said it like that, and he was long gone - and his eyes flashed, emeralds in the dark, as if they could see through her flesh and pierce her thoughts - and she backed into a corner, panic heating her up, for surely it was panic -

"-you're the strongest. That's why the Great Spirit spared you. You were meant to rule by my side. One way or another, you will be mine."

He stepped too close. It became too real. She struck him and fled, his humourless laugh ringing in her ears.

Her breath came shallow, her heart pounding as she landed heavily on the ground, swamped and hidden in the nighttime shadows. She had to calm herself. She could not be master of anything if she could not even master her own fear, her own trembling legs. As her stride slowed, reaching the lowest caves, she glanced down at her paws. The edges of her claws, still extended until the quicks, were tipped with blood. Hot and red. His. She'd cut him enough to bleed. Panic slipped into her throat - a different panic, a more mortal panic. The kind that reminded her it was a crime to strike a king, and most especially a king like him.

She tried to resist the urge to glance back, to see if he was watching her, or sending his hyenas after her. Focus on what lies ahead. What you can do.

She could go to her mother. Sarafina would know what to do. She wouldn't have to worry about giving half-answers to Nala's burning questions this time; she could be a balm, someone to comfort Nala and advise her and help her manage the repercussions of what she'd just done.

She strode carefully into the cave. In this moment she desired to be around the other lionesses - the pridesisters still quietly loyal to Sarabi, at least. Strong and powerful mothers and daughters, the ones who did not fear, who did not submit. Yet as their heads turned to greet her, she felt almost ill, as if she'd been caught in the midst of something illicit, and the warmth in their faces would soon turn to disgust. For that feeling alone, she suddenly hated him even more.

"Nala?" her mother called, rising from her place at the back of the cave. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head numbly, padding forward. She was more than this. She was a huntress, she was a pridesister, a loyal daughter, someone who would have been a princess if fate had been kinder. Someone who could still be queen.

The thought was like a burn. She shook her head, trying to cast the embers onto the cold stone floor and snuff them out.

"Something buzzing round your ears?" came a deep, kind voice.

Nala turned sharply, then relaxed. Sarabi. The queen was padding into the den, trailed by a group of lionesses dragging a singular young gazelle.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, the words coming easily from how often she'd said them. Sarabi was too smart to accept them as they were, but also too wise to press.

"Divide the meat," she commanded her hunting party, padding over to Nala. "The king and cubs eat first."

The young lioness's heart sank. "It's less than yesterday."

"It's all we managed to keep from the hyenas," she said voice low. "Truthfully, I think the only reason they let us pass is because we pleaded the case of the cubs. Shenzi is tough, but she is not cruel. It was a good thing she was there today to negotiate rather than one of her other buffoons."

"But you're not going to give them the whole gazelle to Zira's family, are you?"

"Tch. Of course not." Sarabi's noble features slid into a frown. "She is almost finished nursing her youngest. They can make do with less from now on, like all of us."

"I…" her voice trailed off into a whisper. "I'll range further tomorrow morning. I'll make sure we have enough."

"Thank you, Nala," the queen said quietly. "We wouldn't bring much home without you."

Nala managed a small smile, and a respectful dip of her head, before she padded over to her waiting mother. She couldn't help that she still kept a guard up around the former queen. Something hadn't been right between her and Sarafina and Nala for a long while. Nala had her suspicions. She was no fool. The day relations became strained was the day Mheetu died and she survived. Such things were no mere coincidence. Sarabi had had a part in the outcome of that dreadful night, though Nala knew not the extent. It was excruciatingly difficult to feel resentment or loathing; Sarabi was a good queen and had been an excellent mother. Nala could not but admire her, no matter her actions, because they were always with the pride in mind.

The pride. Was she, Nala, spared for the sake of the pride? It had been so dreadful that night, waking up away from the main den, with another pridesister by her side instead of Sarafina. And when her mother had returned, shuddering and sobbing and overwhelmed with crippling grief, it had all come over her. The sorrow, the relief, the disgust, the anger, the hate; the explanations of ancient rituals, the puzzling to understand the players within them. For moons, it had haunted Nala like a spectre, following her into adulthood along with the mingled stares of pity and bitterness from mothers made ordinary lionesses in the span of one night. The declaration of her worth as the only living cub, a preservation and promise - there had been something more in those words the king had spoken to the stars.

She knew what, now.

She wasn't meant for this, though. She couldn't be. Why should she be? Why should the Great Spirit have spared her and not Mheetu, or any of the others? Just so she could be a mate and mother when the pride needed it? So she could become his? Was this the fate that Mheetu died for?

She slumped down onto the cool rock in front of her mother. Little dots of green flashed in her vision, like she'd looked to long at the sun, and now, consigned to shadow, saw only its pale echoes.

"What happened?" Sarafina murmured, settling next to her. Nala merely shook her head. Her mother, for all her faults, knew her well enough, and instead began to gently groom her ears and head as she'd used to do. It had been a long time, Nala realised - not since Mheetu's death had her mother truly held her like this, nor had she let herself be held. She'd not realised how truly alone she'd let herself become, alienated from her pridesisters, bereft of friends who had died in her place.

She tried to push the painful thoughts as far from her mind as she could. She focused on the ache in her bones, the muscles she'd pulled while fleeing the king's den, the grumbling in her stomach. She would eat last tonight, if there was anything left once Scar, the cubs, and huntresses had fed. One single young gazelle. That was what their noble pride had come to.

"I'm starving," she sighed.

"We all are, sweet thing," Sarafina mumbled.

"Saying it makes me feel better."

"I know." She paused in her grooming, looking her daughter in the eye. "Keep saying it. Never accept this as normal, Nala."

She looked up, desperate, seeking comfort from the sudden strength in her mother's gentle eyes. Her skin felt hot beneath her fur, and her mouth was dry. Sarafina's eyes filled with confusion, and twinkled with unease. Then, she glanced down at Nala's paw, the fur tipped in red, and her eyes widened.

"Nala…" she breathed. "Whose -"

"He wants me to be his queen," she said, before she lost her nerve.

Sarafina stared at her, her mouth dropping open and her eyes filling with sorrow as she turned away, looking to the cave floor. "Oh Kings, no…"

"What am I going to do?" she hissed, her voice cracking. "He's going to do something horrible now. What if - what if he tries to…"

"He wouldn't." She shook her head vehemently, and in her eyes was deep hurt and desperate denial. "He's not like that. But he might very well banish you for saying no. You did say no, didn't you?"

"Of course I said no! But he…he can't banish me."

"He can," she muttered. "Even if we tried to defend you, he has the hyenas, and half the pride is on his side."

Nala couldn't help but glance over at Zira and her children, glaring at the measly portion of meat the hunting party was bringing to them. Her loyalty to the king was unquestionable. No, there would be no support from her, or the other lionesses who were on her side.

"Why wasn't she enough?" Nala whispered.

Sarafina swallowed a sigh. "You know why. Her eldest is weak, her middle child is a girl, and her youngest…"

"He isn't hers."

"Shhh." Sarafina's eyes widened.

"We all know it."

"But Scar doesn't - not yet - and we need to keep it that way."

"Why?"

"Because you know exactly what would happen otherwise."

Nala shook her head, suddenly full of ire. "He'd not stupid," she spat. "He's spared someone else's cub before. He knows what he wants, and it's not weakness. That cub looks stronger than his siblings. He'll be thrilled."

"Nala - don't let your hatred take over you like this." She nudged her daughter to her feet. "What we want is usually what torments us most."

"Nala?"

She jumped to her paws, staring at the cave entrance. Sarabi was looking at her, puzzled and anxious. She must have just returned from bringing Scar's portion of the kill.

"Yes?"

"The king wants to see you," she sad, carefully.

Her stomach turned. "Did…did he say why?"

Sarabi simply looked at her. "Those three hyenas of his are standing guard. I'll come with you."

Her gaze was troubled. She would surely have seen the scratches. She almost certainly knew. Only now, Nala realised the den had gone deathly quiet. The other pridesisters were staring at her.

"What does he want with you?"

Nala spun, too on edge for composure. Zira was stalking towards her, her cubs watching from their corner of the cave.

"How should I know?" she hissed, her fur rising.

"Tell us, Sarabi," Zira growled. "What does the king want with her?"

"That is none of our concern," the former queen said evenly.

"Oh, isn't it?" she looked down her nose at Nala. "This is supposed to be our best huntress, after all. The bond on us pride sisters. Surely we've a right to know."

The disdain in her voice brought to life a dormant anger in Nala's heart, and before she could check herself, she'd blurted out the truth. "He wants me for his queen."

Several of the lionesses gasped. Sarafina hung her head. Zira's mouth dropped, and for a moment her eyes filled with hurt - swiftly, however, it became anger, and she began to pace back and forth.

"So that's why you were spared."

"I had no say in it," Nala said, and meant her words. Her mind saw Mheetu, small, fragile, good. Her Mheetu - her baby brother. Slaughtered like an antelope and left for the vultures.

Bile tickled the back of her throat, and she averted her eyes.

"Pathetic," Zira spat. "You'd be a worthless queen."

She looked toward the dark-pelted newborn napping beside his sister. The little lioness glared at Nala, circling protectively round her little brother and obscuring him from view. Nala knew that look - knew that fear. Her heart burned in her chest, and bloomed into anger. What Scar had taken from her had been returned to him, and would forever be his. What use did he have of her now, really? If that young cub were to survive, what was the point of killing Mheetu and sparing her in the first place? True rage filled her, and a desire to hurt.

"I'm surprised you'd insult your beloved king's choices," she snapped.

"You are to blame!" she growled suddenly, her claws shooting out to scrape on the ground. "If you weren't sauntering and simpering after attention he'd have a clearer mind to see who is truly loyal to him."

"Me? Simpering? Please, Zira," Nala growled, feeling angry, feeling cruel. "I'm not the one going after him every hour of every day. That cub of yours isn't even his."

"How dare you-"

"He turned you away because you failed him twice, so you found someone else to fulfil your simpering promises to him."

"Shut up," she hissed.

"Nala," Sarabi warned.

"He won't care," she growled, her vision clouded by anger and hurt and sorrow. "The only thing he cares about is power. And what did you give him? Weakness."

A weight impacted with her before she could even put her paws up. The hard rock of the cave cracked against her bones. Zira's claws raked down her side – her teeth snapped inches from her ears – and then the weight lifted, and she saw Sarabi, and unmatched fire in her eyes, hauling Zira by the scruff and thrusting her unceremoniously to the ground.

"Enough!" roared Sarabi. "Enough!"

Two Pridesisters flanked the former queen before the disgraced Zira could rise, and she crouched on the ground, teeth bared and hissing. Sarabi's head swivelled between the two younger lionesses, and Nala quailed. There was such devastating anger and sorrow in Sarabi's eyes, and never had such things been directed at her. She had the sinking feeling that she'd let her down.

"Have you not had your fill of pain? Both of you will ceases this violence at once. Nala. Sarafina. Come with me right now."

The two of them followed Sarabi, followed by Zira's low roar of anger as they padded out into the darkness. They followed the most shadowed paths, moving carefully through the landscape they knew by heart, steering clear of any and all watchful eyes, until they were just beyond Pride Rock, past the sleeping hyenas. When they finally arrived in a dip in the land, sheltered by trees and tumbled rocks, Sarabi stopped.

"Nala, you need to leave," she said softly. "He'll banish you, if Zira doesn't kill you first."

"But the pride -"

"Will survive," Sarafina finished. Her eyes glistened with pain, but her jaw was firmly set. "Sarabi is right. You'll have a chance to find more food, to find help, to be safe until…"

"Until what?" Nala's heart sank.

"Until things change," Sarabi said. "It won't be like this forever, Nala. Whatever food or help you can find, find it. If you can bring it back, all the better. If not, we'll be content to know one of our best lionesses is alive and well and away from those who would harm her."

Her mother stepped forward, nuzzling her, and Nala felt tears springing to her eyes. She pressed back, knowing in her heart that she had to do this. If her mother willed it - if Sarabi willed it - if it could get her away from this place - perhaps she had to go through with it.

"Good luck," said Sarabi, touching Nala's cheek with her nose. "Run like the wind."

Nala looked back at the two brave lionesses with hope and love and grief in their eyes, before bounding through the grasslands, her heart pumping, her muscles working to bring her as far from her home as they could. As she ran, she couldn't help but think what she was running from.

Her thoughts were still troubled - and not, she thought, for the right reasons. His words were still like honey rather than poison. She was still repeating them in her mind - the same way he'd repeated her name when he'd spoken to her, as if it was some mantra to attain what she couldn't, and wouldn't, give him. Or would she?

Why had she hesitated before striking him? Why had she ignored the first gentle flick of his tail against her flank as he circled her, so languorous, so careful, so obvious in intent? She wouldn't have done nothing, not in another life - not if there hadn't been a drought, or death, or long moons after the day she'd lost her best friend. Her betrothed. She knew what that meant now - what it could have meant. She'd lost her reason to ever say no.

She hated that. She hated that she was this consumed with loneliness, so terribly craven that it gnawed away at her with more veracity than drought-driven hunger pangs. It was solitude turned primal, a need for vitality and rejuvenation. She hated that someone was giving her that option - no less someone she loathed, someone she'd taught herself to loathe, casting aside the excuses made for his actions that day, waving aside slaughter as mere kingship and duty. The hungriest lions ate whatever they could find, a fact she'd learned from reality's insistent press. The need in her heart and flesh was reaching a similar threshold of desperation. In this state of mind and body, she could almost desire him.

She hated it. It scared her, made her think of what dreadful things she might let herself do if she gave in. Huntresses could not be scared.

She could hardly claim ignorance, she realised. This has not been the first time he'd looked at her that way - not the first time he'd used that tone of voice when addressing her. She'd just been too blind to acknowledge it until it was staring her in the face. She'd been too comfortable in the past. She'd been too content to pretend the Pridelands could be as they were even as they fell into ruin.

He was preying on her, savouring each bite as he pulled her apart by the sinews of her fears, claiming her piece by piece until she would be entirely his. She was a huntress, however, and such a state of affairs blasphemed against the very laws of nature. She needed to turn aside, to abandon the old world because it was changing and leaving her behind. It was full of desire and decadence now, a landscape of need and neglect. She needed to read the new terrain and find a way out. She was a huntress. She knew how to do that. She'd merely have to tread carefully upon the foreign path, seek out the new road, find help or a better life. Build a new Prideland, rather than trying to salvage the old one.

She ran through the night, listening out for the yipping of any hyenas, eyes on the horizon and what hopes might lie beyond it. She was a huntress, and she would not be hunted.

A/N: My lovely reviewers –
To CandyLuv99 – Thank you. You were the first and for that I'm grateful. You were also very astute in your suggestions for this chapter (as reviewed in ch.2), as it was exactly the rationale and direction I was going in! I'm happy you caught that and hope you enjoyed this conclusion.
To Guest, who used to write under T5Tango – Thank you for your immensely generous words. I'm glad I could do a character so dear to you justice.
To Scissor Lizard – Thank you. There is no higher compliment.
To Money100 - Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed the story.

Thank you again to all readers – past, present, and future.