A/N:

Hey guys, sorry for not updating in forever! Really busy that first week and then... yeah, it was kind of hard to get back into the writing routine again. Shouldn't have to wait this long for an update again though, and I might even re-write some of the earlier chapters too. Also planning another one-shot (if you haven't read My Little Secret yet, you should :]), so stay tuned! (: Enjoy!

Twin out.

Chapter 13: Brother to Brother

The gentle wind rustled through the remnants of long dried grass and parched vegetation, cooling the warm, balmy evening air to make it almost bearable. The cracked ground became more comfortable to tread on, no longer searing with the destructive heat of the sun which it had retained all day. Sunset was imminent, and the sky faded to eye-pleasing hues of deep blues and purples, lightly dotted with hundreds of brilliant stars. It almost looked beautiful, despite the fact that it grew more uninhabitable with each passing day. It was quiet here, in the Outlands. The old sounds, such as the chirps of birds flying home to roost and the occasional croaks of frogs, had vanished like the rain. Even the cackles of the hyenas had grown less plentiful with the passing time, though they still resurfaced to pierce through the thick night air on occasion.

Scar just sat at the edge of the pond, the only body of water to be found for miles around. He just gazed at the horizon, reflecting idly as he did every so often. Wow. Things had really changed. Even the Outlands looked considerably worse than they once had, which, of course, was saying something. This wasn't the same place he had grown up in. With Mufasa.

Scar turned away slightly in discomfort. Not his brother; he didn't want to think about him ever again. He had made it clear that no one was to mention his name, but it didn't stop his own thoughts from doing so.

"…I killed Mufasa…"

Scar dug his claws into the ground. That single sentence had had to be the worst mistake of his life. Why did he have to tell his nephew, Simba, the truth before he attempted and failed to throw him off of Pride Rock? He would have given anything—anything—to take back that moment, to just throw Simba off that cliff and be done with it all. But that wasn't what had happened. The fight, the hyenas, his mysterious relapse into consciousness, and Simba's hunt for him… his life had become a complete mess after that. Years of being king had collapsed instantly into… this. He wanted the throne more than ever now that he had lost it and was struggling to survive. Being an ostracized refugee from what was once his kingdom only led him to more despair. He wanted to go back to the old life he had had as if nothing had ever happened, but it was too late. He was no longer a king; he was a murderer, and he would always be known as one. The moment he had uttered those words, there was no going back. He had brought about the ruin of his own life.

Did he even have a chance?

Was there really a purpose to it all? Did he in fact have a shot at revenge and the reclaiming of the throne, or was it all just a hopeless dream? Supposing he did take back the kingdom, what would happen then? He would no doubt be loathed for killing two of their beloved kings for his own personal gain.

Oh well. Simba's followers could kill themselves for all he cared. Whether or not they liked it was none of his concern. He could rule without their support anyways...

In the meantime, all he could do was sit near the pond, waiting for it to dry up like all the others and dreaming about being king again. He would lie down, exhausted, under the stars in exile; cold, hungry, and hated by most. That was his life now, and he had to make the most of it and try his best.

The temperature had dropped like it had every other night, except now it was much more profound than it had once been. Even with his long silky coat and mane, he couldn't help but shiver underneath the merciless, icy stare of the moon. Somehow he thought Mufasa had had something to do with the lack of rain, the cold at night, and the unbearable heat during the day. He hated the idea: that his brother was up there safe in the sky somewhere, but was exacting revenge on his younger brother with this endless torture. Sometimes Scar simply wanted to leave; to just run away far off into the distance, perhaps towards that promising looking golden patch of Savannah in the distance. Besides, he had nothing left anymore; not even Zira. But he knew he never would. Never could. Giving up was something he'd never done.

He gritted his teeth and growled. It was all so improbable, so ridiculous. Right now he could be lying comfortably in a warm cave upon Pride Rock, lazily picking out his teeth and ordering around an army of helpless minions. Feared and obeyed. Now, though, he was banished and slowly starving to death. He had to plan this out. If only he could do something to try and take back what was rightfully his without being killed. Only a handful of lionesses remained on his side to help him with the job, and the hyenas were… disloyal, to say the least. Waiting for their opportunity to kill him just like everyone else was. Last time, they had nearly succeeded, too. He should never have trusted them, especially since they were a large part of this mess. Besides, he knew how the hyenas held grudges. Another mistake on his part.

He looked up one last time at the stars. Why did it have to be him? He wished his brother had never even been born; then he would be able to take the throne without risking his life several times over. Without even trying. Life for Scar would have been so much easier without Mufasa. This thought had pestered him endlessly for years. Killing him should have alleviated the problem, but it just caused more trouble in the end.

"Brother…" Scar said quietly aloud, in a deep growling voice, "I hope you know just how much I loathe you."

He bore his teeth into an angry grimace and clawed the ground with a shaking paw. His chest heaved and he would have broken out into a sweat had he not been freezing cold. Revenge… that was all he wanted.

Now the wind was beginning to pick up, with harsh gales that blew across the flat land. Little bits of dirt, eroded from the few dusty hills that were around, flew into his eyes, causing them to sting and burn like fire, as the icy wind cut through his fur and flesh and down to the bone, instantly chilling him. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, curling up as snugly as he could to escape the blistering elements which bit at him constantly, though it did very little and his body still continued to shake from the cold. It would be hard for him to fall asleep, despite the fact that he was exhausted. Desperately crawling behind a rock to seek some protection from the wind, he settled down on his forepaws, still shivering uncomfortably.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Even though he had slept quite a bit lately, he still felt weak, as though he hadn't slept for days. He flopped onto his side irately, unable to get comfortable, and waited in vain to drift off into sleep.

Eyes now only half closed, Scar clawed impatiently at the nearby rock absent-mindedly, leaving long, jagged scratches in its rough, wind-beaten and eroded surface. Hours passed. The night only got darker and colder, leaving thick masks of jet black shadow dotted and pierced with light from the stars and the moon.

Forget this. He had to get up, to move around somehow. He'd been lying in more or less the same spot for days.

Scar shifted his weight slightly, wedging his paws under his body as his claws scratched across the ground, growling slightly from the effort. His joints felt frozen, stiff, and rigid as they moved under him, especially the shoulder with the bite wound in it, which felt sore and painful. As he pulled himself higher his legs started to buckle, as he eventually put weight on all four of them, and with a final heave he staggered onto his feet. Not moving around very much had made it a lot harder for him to get up.

He wasn't sure where he wanted to go other than away from the pond. Taking the first shaky step, he pressed forwards, and then continued by simply putting one quivering paw in front of the other… A step out from behind the rock, however, nearly knocked his unprepared self flat on his back. The wind had picked up even more as the Pridelands descended even deeper into the reign of the darkness and night. Bracing himself against a particularly strong gust of wind, the chill again singed his flesh as his sharp teeth began to chatter together uncontrollably. Several seconds passed before the wind finally died down enough for him to plod slowly and resolutely forwards again. The dust and dirt crunched and crackled under the soft padding of his paws. There was no grass; no life scampering under his paws like there would have been a few years ago. Instead there was only a brittle, hard-packed, and eroding dirt floor surrounded by a chilling silence. Everything was silent as he continued on his own way, which made it all the more surprising when he slammed right into something soft and furry.

He jumped back reflexively, nearly losing his delicate and precarious balance on the ground. His claws instantly unsheathed and he drew back with surprising quickness. Narrowing his eyes, he crouched down on his back legs in a pouncing position. The fur on his back bristled and he growled deeply, prepared to attack whatever it was if it dared to threaten him. He might have been alone in the middle of the night, but he could still defend himself, if necessary.

Thinking it to be a hyena or another hostile creature out to get him, he was surprised when he looked up and saw Mahiri's ice blue eyes contemplating him curiously, her narrow face drawn into a self-satisfied smirk.

"No need, scaredy-cat. It's just me," she continued flatly. He looked up at her but he found that the only thing on his mind was how absurd he must have looked. He promptly drew his claws back in and resumed his normal posture.

She stood there quietly, eyes glinting slightly in the moonlight. Her dark fur shone brightly in the moonlight and her tail swished ever so slightly from side to side, in an almost enticing manner. A slight smile crossed her lips as she stretched, her claws digging into the earth. He had to admit she looked beautiful, and yet… he wasn't sure exactly what he should do about it. Yes, they had mated, but, to be honest, he already regretted it. He had been depressed and lonely because of Zira leaving; he didn't exactly want to continue anything with her, did he? And Zira… What would she do to him if she ever found out they'd mated? That couldn't possibly end well.

Scar could feel his face redden under his fur in embarrassment. He knew she wanted him. That much had been apparent since they had met. What would he say to her? That he didn't want to be with her anymore because he felt bad about Zira and didn't want to betray her, and she would just have to leave? Or would he tell her that they could see each other as long as Zira didn't find out? He was grateful to her for saving his life, but this… He didn't know what to do.

Scar just stood there silently, not saying a word. Maybe she would leave, and he wouldn't have to prolong the situation any further.

"So," she began, cutting into his thoughts, "couldn't sleep?"

She smirked just ever so slightly, raising her eyebrows at him as she turned and gazed at him from over her shoulder. Her tail continued to swish from side to side, over and over…

"… No."

"What's with the silence? I just want to talk, dear…"

"Yes, certainly, heh… Well, I was just—"

"MAHIRI! Where are you, for goodness' sake? Time to get ready!"

Scar whirled around on the voice, claws unsheathed again as always, as he turned back towards the source of the sound. His heart began to pound in his chest and his bore his teeth in alarm. Mahiri also looked over her shoulder, though her eyebrows were raised in only mild astonishment. If there was anything Scar hated, it was surprises. How Mahiri hadn't been absolutely scared out of her skin was beyond him.

"Oh, must be time for the hunt already. See you tonight."

Scar cocked his eyebrow confusedly at this remark, but she didn't see it; she was already gone. Slowly and carefully turning around to look east, he could see the sky begin to turn a light tint of a ruddy purplish color. Dawn would come soon, and that meant most of the lionesses would leave for almost the whole day to hunt. He would have quite a bit of time to himself, in the peaceful solitude that surrounded the Outlands. The lion only hoped that they could bring back a kill this time. Hunger had begun to gnaw at him faintly. He would need to eat soon.

After all, he would have to be healthy and strong if he wanted to instigate his revenge.