If I Wanted You More - Ch 1: Questions as to why (Nala's POV)

Summary : A go-along fan-fic to The Scarred King and Queen Nala... so you can guess what it's about... not a one-shot, but in the style of one.

Disclaimer : I don't own anyone; and if I did, I wouldn't be writing about them; I'd be hiding them in my garage, so no one could steal them.

Notes : I hope you enjoyed my last crazy Broadway-esque bash of insanity. Ready for more of that great sulkenwolfpup satisfaction? Prepare for ultimate satisfaction.

There are all kinds of women in this pride. Unfortunately, most of 'em are growing old. And, since you aren't much of a savior - more of a selfish git, you don't want an old woman. You want a young, hot girl. Since I'm the only one in this entire pride, you are willing to destroy both of our dignities, and make out with someone like me.

Whose life do you plan on ruining next? You filthy, despicable, sex-driven, damned utandu. Do you think you have right to mating with anyone you like simply because you're royalty, or are you even more of a madman than I thought?

Why do I ask? Because, in my book, you don't have right to "anyone you like." For example, you don't have right to me. What kind of a man do you think you are, to make out with your own daughter?

Don't get me wrong; our relationship isn't the only thing that keeps us apart. If we weren't father-daughter, I'd loathe your proposal the same way, perhaps more.

Men like you are supposed to be polite and curteous to women. And who are you for torturing us all? Before you drooled your gloating ways all about the throne, Sarabi was Queen of the Pride.

We all still treat her like the one she should be. Like the queen. But do you give her a sniff? By the way you pass by her, chin up and with a coy smile about your face, I'd say not.

You say, "you don't have to be my queen," and walk off. By that, you must be trying to kill me. Do you think I can walk away when you look so damned depressed like that?

You make me almost proud that your sperm has been sent about my juicy, huge, glorious sexual organs. Yes, I'm not afraid to admit it. In just under a month, you'll have the glory of saying you've ruined another woman's life.

For that, you are despicable. Forced affections are never polite, not to mention against the curteous former ordinancies of the pride, but this might be the worst I've seen.

I think I can see through your scheme. You think that since I... kissed... you, you should feel free to have me. You think that my kiss was a sign of affection, that it means I like you.

For what it means to you, I didn't kiss you because I like you. My entire life, I have longed to love. I have wanted a lover, a wonderful man, who would be willing to do anything for me.

I let your lips meet mine only because I was desperate, drinking, hopeless. You're old enough to know that romance adrones us all.

I guess, in short, my answer is, "no." The only question at matter is, can I bare the shame of turning someone - even a madman like you - down?

I hate you. But even so, I want you back. You're a madman and I want you back.