A/N: Wow. Okay. I feel bad that it's almost been a year since I updated this, but to be perfectly honest, it was difficult for me to decide on what this chapter was going to entail. Plus my work life got super busy. Thankfully Ive figured out ways to set aside time for writing, so hopefully the next chapter wont take so long. Also this chapter title is SUPER subject to change. Anyways! Enjoy!

And, as always, critiques and comments are welcome!

"Tricks and treachery are the practice of fools that don't have brains enough to be honest." - Benjamin Franklin

The sun had finally sunk below the horizon; the fiery orange and reds that had intermingled with the deep indigo of the night giving way. The stars sparkled and shimmered and the moon cast an otherwise unearthly glow upon the land. Where normally this light would bring comfort, in the Outlands it only bred shadows and thoughts of what evils might be lurking in the dark. Kiara herself was situated underneath the shadows of the same termite mound. She was alone; Nuka and Vitani having taken their leave what seemed like eons ago. Though, for the moment, she was happy for the solitude.

What those two said had shaken her to the core. Her own father a murderer? It still didn't make any sense. For all of her life Simba had been nothing but kind and loving. He was always around when she needed him. Like the time she had taken a tumble at the watering hole. The time a large beetle had given her a nasty bite. Or when she had been confined to the cave over a bout of sickness. He had barely left her side and made sure she had the utmost care and attention. There weren't any moments where she remembered being out from under his sharp gaze. But perhaps that was where the trouble resided. Kiara had always felt stifled by Simba, and sometimes she found it difficult to truly be herself around him. And, now that she thought about it, he never really told her much of anything about himself or his past. It was like pulling at teeth just to get anything remotely interesting out of him. Maybe they were right. Maybe he was hiding something. Maybe this entire time her father had been hiding this damning secret in the hopes that it would wither and die.

And, of course, there was the possibility that they had been lying to her. She had never met any Outlanders until today. How could she trust anything they said? But on the other paw, they had saved her life. If they truly were the conniving, vicious creatures like her pride members had said, then surely she would have been left to the crocodiles.

Kiara huffed in frustration. She had no idea who or what to believe. Everything so far had left her utterly confused to the point where she wanted nothing more than to be alone like this forever.

"Kiara! Vitani said you'd be out here."

Startled by the sudden voice, Kiara whipped her head around to find the source, but stilled when she recognized the chocolate pelt of Kovu.

"Hey Kiara." He said, offering a small smile as he approached. "What are you doing out here anyways?"

"Nothing really, just thinking I guess." She replied halfheartedly.

Kovu cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, his green eyes flashing with unmissable concern.

"Thinking about what? Is everything okay?"

Kiara blanched at this. The subject of her father was all too new, almost like the pain of a wound that hadn't quite breached to the surface. For all of her life she had seen him as this shining ray of honesty and justice, but now that imagery had been dashed upon the rocks. And while she trusted Kovu, the thought of expressing her feelings made her uneasy. But perhaps he could shed a different light on the subject.

"Nuka told me. Everything." She revealed.

"Told you what?"

"About you. The Outlanders. About Scar."

That silence that followed sent a wave of nausea through her stomach. She had never really talked with any lion about her truest thoughts and feelings before now. In truth, she hadn't ever had anything of this nature plague her mind. The Pridelands were safe; plenty of prey and water, pride-members with lush, well groomed coats, and parents that led the kingdom with a strong, yet gentle rule. But being in the Outlands was a stark contrast to her home. The land was practically barren and the Outlanders carried a ruggish look to them; pelts dulled and dirty, and the ever present aura of hunger hung in the air. Even Kovu's cheekbones jutted out from underneath his pelt, giving his face an angular shape. But despite the malice and contempt with which these lions had been described, Kiara couldn't help but want to believe there was good within them, and in the same vein, her father.

"Nuka shouldn't have told you that." Kovu finally spoke, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Mother said you weren't ready."

Now it was Kiara's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Not ready? For what?"

"Nevermind that." He huffed dismissively. "I'm starving. The hunting party should be back by now. Come on!"

Kiara watched as Kovu bounded towards the direction he had come. She had hoped he would have helped ease her heart, but now she was more confused than ever. What did he mean she wasn't ready? And what could Zira possibly need her to be ready for? Either way, she was determined to get some answers. Steeling herself, Kiara left the shadows of the mound and charged after the other cub.

Zira ignored the low buzz of chatter as she weaved her way around her pridesisters. The few bits of moonlight did little to assist her, but after years of living in the Outlands, her eyes adjusted well to the dark. It was that time of the evening where the pride gathered in the main den to share what meager rations they had gathered, and, if nothing was available, share tongues and swap stories until the rumbling of their bellies subsided and sleep finally came. Normally, Zira would join in the fellowship, but tonight her mind was elsewhere. Instead she would retreat to her cove and think on the next steps of her plan.

As she continued to move amongst her pridesisters, one lioness caught her eye. Umija, an older lioness much like Zira, was sharing tongues with a younger member of the pride, but came to a halt when she noticed her queen approaching.

"Attend me." Zira commanded, never breaking stride or looking to see if the lioness had obeyed. When she reached her quarters, she bee-lined for a small pile of animal skins; most were highly damaged, but some were still in relatively good condition. She stretched out, crossed her forepaws, and positioned herself in such a way as to have a direct view of the cave entrance. A few seconds later, Umija appeared.

"My Queen," She called, with a bow of her head. "You have a need for me."

"Drop the formalities, Umija. We've been through too much for that. Come in."

Zira eyed the lionesses as she padded into the cave and came to stop a few feet away. Umija had been with the Outlanders back when they still considered themselves part of the Southlands pride. Born a season after Zira, she had been there through it all; the famine and the bloody war that followed. A hardened warrior like herself, she considered Umija one of her most trusted and more often than not she held her opinion in high regard. Especially in moments such as this.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard by now that we have a guest of high importance with us tonight." She began. "It seems that the Pridelander princess strayed a little too far from home."

"Yes, I heard Hawa talking about it earlier. What do you plan on doing with her?"

"I'm not entirely sure yet, but I do plan on keeping her here if I can. It'll drive Simba insane knowing his daughter is just out of his reach."

Umija let out a laugh, a sort of gravely bark.

"I can see him now, pacing back and forth on the border. But I can't help but wonder if this isn't the best idea, my Queen." She responded, the laughter now gone from her voice. "This might lead to war. A war that we aren't equipped to survive."

"You think I don't know that?" Zira snapped, flicking her ears in annoyance. Umija barely flinched at the harsh tone. "I'm aware that the Pridelanders will stop at nothing to get her back, but in that regard I do have a plan."

Rising to her paws, the scarred lioness padded towards the wall adjacent. The surface was covered in a wide range of paintings. Paintings that told the history of the Outlanders; all of their struggles and triumphs alike. A pile of bowls, some made from the skulls of animals and others having been liberated from the Pridelands, each containing a differently colored, sticky substance, resided before the paintings. She dipped a single digit into the nearest container. When she removed it, the fur was coated in a dark, blood red.

"Suppose we were to send Simba a message." She proposed, a devilish grin etched across her maw. "Let him know his daughter is alive and well, but only as long as he leaves us to our own devices."

"An ultimatum." Umija smiled as she understood the veiled threat.

"Precisely." Zira said. "Afterall, there is no future without our children. Even a Pridelander knows that. Now, go gather the others. We have a busy morning ahead of us."

"Yes, my Queen."

As Umija left, Zira turned and pressed her paw over a painting of a golden lion wreathed in a crimson mane. When she removed her paw, there was a smudge of deep red over the chest of the lion; right above the heart. The substance began to bubble and little rivulets trickled down towards the cave floor. The painted lion almost began to look as if it were bleeding.

A low rumble began to form in Zira's throat. A deep, dark sound that vibrated her entire body. Unable to contain it, she let loose the maniac laughter that bubbled inside of her, much like the red paint. Finally she felt as though everything she had worked for was starting to make sense; have meaning.

Soon, she thought to herself. Soon, Scar, we will have our revenge.