Disclaimer: I don't own Lion King.

.

.

.

Chapter 18: Omega

.

Scar sat in the middle of the den in the termite mound. The Outlanders surrounded him like hungry crocodiles, as if waiting for him to make a mistake. He was too smart for this though. Calmly, he waited for their leader to make the first move. His green eyes followed Zira, as she stalked closer to him, glaring at him with distrust.

"Remind me why should I let you live, Pridelander," she hissed out through the clenched teeth. She took an impressive leap, landing right in front of Scar. Her bared teeth and a low growl erupting from her throat was supposed to intimidate him, but the male lion played it cool.

"Because you and your pride could benefit from keeping me safe and sound." Scar responded politely, careful not to include even a trace of mockery in his voice. On tiny mistake, and the lionesses would rip him to shreds, like they had done with Msuli. He cleared his throat. "The Outlands are a pretty harsh environment, aren't they?"

Zira furrowed her brows, clearly losing her patience.

"Stop skirting around." She demanded harshly.

"Very well," Scar said. Apparently, Zira and her followers weren't as good listeners as the hyenas. "Tell me, Zira, do you want to spend the rest of your life on this desolate wasteland? Or would you rather dwell in lush Pride Lands, where there is more than enough water and food?"

The lionesses started whispering among themselves. Zira glanced at her pride sisters, before she sat in front of Scar. He smirked, seeing that she assumed a position appropriate for negotiations.

"Go on." She commanded.

Scar bowed his head, displaying his humility and respect for her, fake, of course.

"You see, as a member of the royal family of Pride Rock, I have the natural right to rule." Scar lifted his chin high, emphasizing his dignity, even though it had been chirped lately. He lowered his voice, making it sound alluring, almost seductive. "If you and your lionesses help me to reclaim my throne, you will be welcome to live in the Pride Lands."

Zira snorted at the proposal, not looking tempted at all.

"As who? As your lackeys?" Zira's paw shoot forward. She grabbed Scar's bottom jaw and yanked it abruptly, forcing him to lean forward. Their noses were nearly touching. "I don't think so. No one will use Outlanders as their slaves ever again, least of all – you."

She let go of Scar's jaw, and he stumbled back, losing his balance for a while. He scowled, when she failed to be lured into his scheme. Perhaps he had underestimated Zira.

"You and your lionesses can dwell in the termite mounds forever then." Scar raised his voice, gazing at his negotiations partner with spite. He stood up, and the pride sisters tensed, ready to pin him to the ground. "I want to offer you a fair trade – our cooperation will bring only mutual benefits."

"How so?" Zira growled.

Scar boldly prowled to her. She stood still, letting him approach so close that he could whisper in her ear.

"I have a right to rule, you have a pride. We complete each other." He murmured. "Come, Zira, it's written in the stars. Together, we'll rule the Pride Lands."

Zira's red eyes widened at his words. She pulled back, glaring at Scar with distrust.

"Will I still be the leader of my pride?" she asked.

Scar smiled and nodded.

"Of course!" He assured her. "As my queen, you will be my equal. How does that sound?"

The arrangement derived from what Scar originally had had in mind, but some sacrifices had to be made on his behalf too. From the intrigued expression on Zira's muzzle, he gathered that this concession was a good decision. A small smile flickered through her lips. She gazed at her pride members, as if searching for they approval. They stared at her with absolute trust in her authority.

"Zira, the Queen of the Pride Lands." She enjoyed the way the title rolled of her tongue. "Sounds good."

"Indeed." Scar agreed, glad that he had gotten himself an army, even if it was a small one. "You won't regret your choice."

Suddenly, Zira's good, optimistic mood vanished like food in vicinity of a warthog. The dreamy smile faltered from her muzzle – it took more than an empty promise to drag her into Scar's plan.

"Aren't you forgetting something? Simba is the king of the Pride Rock now." Zira stated the obvious. She scrutinized Scar, staring him down from head to the tip of his tail. "He's in a much better shape than you are."

"As was his father." Scar retorted immediately. "Right before his death. Leave Simba to me. Once my wounds heal, he will go straight to the heavens."

Zira raised her eyebrow, as if not putting all her trust in Scar's fervent declarations. She nodded though, acknowledging his words.

"I'll give you a chance to prove yourself," She said strictly. Then, she waved her paw at Scar, shooing him back to his corner. "I'll have someone bring you food later."

Scar scowled, feeling like a cub treated with a certain degree of contempt. Through her behavior and the way she ordered him around, Zira made clear, who was the real boss here. Once again, Scar became the useless addition to the pride, just like when Mufasa was still alive. A soon as Zira walked away to tend to her cubs, he found himself glared at by the lionesses in a particularly hostile way. They stared at him, as if he was a stray vulture, about to snatch their dinner.

He hunched his back and limbed back to his designated spot in the cavern-like dent in the termite mound. The dust rose, when he plopped onto the ground and stretched out his injured leg. Wincing from the dull, ever-present pain, he leaned to lick his wounds. The whole time, Scar had the unnerving sensation of being observed. There were no longer any guards stationed near him, but he was not a member of the Outlander pride – he felt more like a prisoner.

Scar glared back at the lionesses, despising the way they looked down on him. Once he healed, he would show them. He would show them all how dangerous he was. In the meantime, he had to become content with their laughable charity – a shaded place to lay and food perhaps. Thinking of nourishment… Scar's stomach growled profoundly. It felt, as if it glued to his spine, for it was so empty. He didn't quite remember when he had eaten, but it was long ago.

Starved, Scar early picked up the scent of blood, as two lionesses returned from the hunt, dragging a whole zebra inside the termite mound. His green eyes lit with joy and relief. Ignoring the injuries, he jumped onto his paws and trotted toward the dinner. He was used to being treated like a king – normally, the lionesses would step aside, letting him get the first bite and feast until he was full. Even before seizing the throne, Scar had a free meal pass. As the king's brother, he was one of the top members of his pride, second only to Mufasa and his family.

Thus, his surprise was even greater, when instead being privileged, he got chased away from the prey. The lionesses turned to him with their ears plastered flat against their heads, snarling and growling. Instinctively, Scar backpedaled, startled by such an outrageous treatment. The pride members only made way for Zira, even pushing out her cub Nuka. The lionesses feasted, eagerly devouring the zebra. Fearing that there would be nothing left for him, Scar attempted to join, but a choir of warning growls convinced him that it wasn't the best idea. Once they finished eating, the lionesses let Nuka clear the meat of the zebra leg. Only after the cub got his fill, Scar was allowed to enjoy the scraps left behind.

Humiliated beyond reason, he approached the skeleton. His eyelid twitched, as he stared at what was left for him – gooey tendons and veins, the worst pieces. Even his hyenas used to eat better. Discontent, he bit at what was left of the zebra, chewing the miserable excuse of a meat. He huffed, expressing how disgusted he was.

Scar's demonstrative display drew one of the lionesses, the old one. Her name, if he recalled correctly, was Hodari. She glared at him, as though he was not a lion, but a slimy bug.

"Be grateful that you get anything at all," she said, proudly pushing her chest forward. "Here, in the Outlands, we usually don't tolerate useless bums like you. If not Zira's whim, you would be food for vultures already."

Having said that, Hodari strolled away, not even bothering to wait for Scar to respond.

The male lion swallowed the chunk of tendons, wishing he could strangle her. As devoid of respect toward him and infuriating she was, Hodari betrayed a vital information. Apparently, Zira's word was law here. If only he could weasel his way into her favor and twist her around his little claw… Scar pretended he was busy cleaning the zebra bones, but in reality he was warily observing the leader of the Outlanders, searching for her weak spot.

Zira was busy with her three cubs. Vitani and Kovu – what a great name, by the way – were drinking her milk. In the meanwhile, the lioness struggled to get Nuka clean. The older cub sat still, very obediently, and Zira was scowling, as her attempts to smooth the shaggy tuft atop his head were pointless. Quite a nice family picture was before Scar's eyes. He smirked, already knowing where to strike. As soon as he finished his dinner, he dragged his injured body back to his spot and collapsed.

.

Zira growled, frustrated that Nuka still looked like a walking nightmare, despite her efforts. Her son innocently batted his eyelashes, grinning like a fool and silently pleading for forgiveness, what made her roll her eyes. Reluctantly, she decided to give it one more try. Holding her oldest cub firmly, she licked the unruly fur on his head, ignoring his silly grimacing. When she paused to admire the result of her work, she groaned. Nuka looked as horrible as before. Zira doubted that even time could change this.

Seemingly preoccupied with her family duties, she never forgot about being a leader. While cleaning her son up, with the corner of her eye she observed Scar, nestled on his spot, and counted the movements of his chest. As soon as she was sure that he was in the land of dreams, Zira stood up. Perhaps too roughly, she pushed Nuka aside and abandoned her younger cubs. She nodded at her second in command, and the two lionesses strolled into the furthest end of the termite mound, where they could speak without the risk of being overheard.

"Hodari, keep a close watch on him," Zira murmured, pointing her head at sleeping Scar.

The elder lioness arched her eyebrow, smiling knowingly.

"So you don't trust him, after all." She stated, speaking quietly. Zira let out a chuckle, amused by a mere idea that she would trust anyone, let alone a male lion from the Pride Lands.

"He will try to double cross me," Zira said. She could tell it by the devious look in Scar's green eyes. He had nothing of Msuli's brute strength, but he was dangerous in his own right, in a more subtle way. Zira waited until Hodari bowed her head, accepting the command. Then, she returned to nurture her beloved cubs.

She laid down, and her little ones flocked to her. Not only it didn't annoy her one bit, but she enjoyed the sensation. Fondly, she pulled Kovu closer, cradling him in her paws. He mewled, searching for the heat of her body. Vitani cuddled next to her little brother, and Nuka approached cautiously, a bit too big for the tender cuddling. Zira was in a splendid mood though. She reached out with her clawed paw and snatched Nuka's pelt. He yelped, when she abruptly pulled him closer, until he got snuggled by her side. Her son stared at her with his eyes widened with surprise, but Zira only smiled.

When she could hear all her cubs breathing evenly in their slumber, she raised her head. Across the den, she fixed her excited gaze on the laughable pretender to the Pride Rock, currently snoring. A sly grin flourished on her muzzle. Zira already had a plan how To double cross the double-crosser.

.

.

.

Author's Note:

It took me a while to manufacture this chapter. Thanks for Your patience. Have you enjoyed reading the chapter? Please share your thoughts in the comments!