Author's notes: This was done as a writing contest entry for the MLK forums. There we had to pick from a variety of subjects, and the one I chose was 'If Kovu did not fall in love'. While I'm happy with the story as a whole, I find myself discontented with certain elements such as Kovu's willingness to talk rather than just killing Simba, and how Simba comes off as somewhat of a Gary Stu, if not a total Gary Stu. Anyhow, I hope you'll enjoy it to some extent, and be sure to leave reviews! ^^

The tepid breeze coursed through his fur as he turned his face towards the fading sun. In that direction was the Pridelands, wherein king Simba and his harem took residence. His fur bristled at the thought, and he took off for it at a steady pace. He would have to remain clandestine, lest the hunting parties spot him; besides, getting caught wouldn't do - he had been training for this his entire life, and as far as he was concerned he had no other purpose.

Though he was under his mother's duress, ending Simba's reign was as much his dream as it was hers. The king was munificent with his own subjects, but when it came to others he was less merciful. Kovu knew this well, for him and his family had been subject to exile for many years - and if what he heard about the hyenas was true, then Simba's racism, which was the only thing Kovu could classify it as, was continuing a 'tradition' that had been started by Ahadi many years prior.

It disgusted him that one could be so ignorant, so avaricious as Simba was. The Pridelands held more than enough water and prey to satiate every predator under the sun, but due to his foolishness, he refused to see the simple truth; so many like the Outlanders or the hyenas had to sup on carrion, leaving them emaciated and infirm, whilst the Pridelanders grew fat on all the food they could ever eat. Kovu shook the thought from his mind and picked up speed. He couldn't allow himself to be overcome by his emotions, for if he grew angry, he would surely bollix up the job.

By the time he reached the borders of the Pridelands, the sun cast its last rays of light over low, distant hill-tops. It would do well if his approach was ensconced in shadow, he thought, for close observation had shown the Pridelanders were more active during the day than at night. The night was when the king slept, and if he could slip in undetected, it would be all that much easier to claw open Simba's throat and leave afore anyone knew what transpired - after that, his mother could move in for the coup d'état. 'An assault during the day is hapless.' she had said to him. 'You must be deft like the wind, and as powerful as the storm it forebodes. When the destruction is dealt, you will be gone without a trace.'

He decided to take a moment's respite, so he slunk into the umbrage of a small coppice. Thither he found a pond, and he lapped up as much as he could drink. The water in the Pridelands tasted wonderful, he reflected. It was much the antithesis of his usual fare, which tasted like excrement - and that was on the good days. Most of the time the water in the Outlands was almost caustic and unfit to drink. He had known a few that died from dehydration; some of them were his friends.

Slowly he got up, then he resumed his quest. Pride Rock loomed in the distance, its sight wondrous to behold. At this rate, he conjectured he should be there before midnight. He wondered if he would be able to escape after the deed was done, or if he was marching towards his death. Either way this needed to be done - he would not be doing only his family a favor, but one for the entire animal kingdom as well. There was also something else that he couldn't help but mull over: how he would gain access to the king's den. His mother had apprised him of a postern that was reported to exist, and it seemed the most convenient route; whether or not it was actually there no one knew for certain, but he would find that out soon enough.

A couple of hours had passed, and the moon was slowly trailing up towards its zenith. He was relatively on time, though an unexpected river had impeded his progress. Luckily he was able to ford it, else he might have been delayed until sunrise. Pride Rock now stood imperiously above him, and as he gazed up at the rock wall, he couldn't help but feel amazed. He slinked around to the edifice's backside, and then he paced around, searching for any sign of the postern. Several minutes went by, and he came up with naught - if this postern existed, it was by no means conspicuous - though he supposed it wouldn't be a postern otherwise. He sat, and then he stared hard at the rock, scrutinising it for any fissure or vestibule, and then he saw it: Going up its side at a giddy angle was a tenuous switchback, barely discernible in the moon's pallid light; at its cusp was what appeared to be an opening, no doubt a way into his majesty's lair. Kovu grinned, then proceeded to climb at a slow pace. Prudence was key here; he couldn't slip to his doom when he was so close to victory.

A few times his paw caught a loose rock and he stumbled, but mostly he ascended with ease. He was nearing the top when he decided to turn and get a look at the Pridelands. Before him was a vision he could only describe as pulchritudinous. Below, small rolling hills stretched to as far as the eye could see. Acacias dotted the land, their leaves swaying torpidly in the cool nocturnal air, and all about could be seen lakes and sinous rills, sparkling under the moon. While the night left it shrouded in gray, he knew the verdure was beyond anything he had ever seen, and if he failed, would likely ever see again.

He stalked past the entrance and into darkness, his eyes taking a moment to fully adjust. The air inside was warm, and as he padded along the tunnels he couldn't help but feel a sense of security; it reminded him of quondam days when he was still a cub. Sadly Kovu couldn't remember much about those days, but the little he could recall involved Scar. Though he was an austere individual and seldom had patience for cubs, him and Kovu got along well enough - whether it was because of Kovu's semblance to him or for some other reason he never knew, but Scar treated him as if he was a son. The lion sighed. Scar was long gone, dead at the paws of Simba; if he wasn't doing this for his family, then it would be for himself.

At the end of the tunnel he came to an opening. Furtively peeking inside, he saw that it led to a commodious, vaulted chamber. All around were lionessess, curled up or stretched out - some of them were snoring, but all were fast asleep - this was no doubt Simba's harem. For a moment, Kovu wondered if he'd be granted any of them as a reward. They were all attractive, he noted, but none really struck his fancy. There was one that appeared more attractive than the others; she was seated upon a slightly elevated dais, her muzzle rested atop her paws. He knew in an instant that she was Nala, the queen of the Pridelands, and in realising this he also saw that Simba wasn't by her side. Addled, he further perused the den's inhabitants only to find that he was nowhere in sight. He stepped into the room, doing his best not to trip on the bodies that littered the floor. He looked out of the den's main entrance, and thither was Simba, perched atop Pride Rock's precipice, his silhouette illumined by the moon. Kovu mentally chuckled at how easy his job had become; he could simply push Simba off and that would be the end of it.

He left the den's interior and quietly crept up towards the king. He seemed to be just sitting there, silently gazing upon the stars. Kovu wondered if the other lion was even aware of his presence, but he seemed to be lost in his own little world. Unsheathing his claws, he made his way towards the king. "I know who you are." Simba said before he could move in for the kill. Kovu stopped in his tracks, face contorted in discomfiture. "You're here by Zira's bidding, sent to murder me in my sleep."

Kovu chided himself. He wondered how Simba knew of this information, and what consequences it signified. For a transitory moment, the thought of his mother being held captive passed through his mind. It's not possible. he told himself. She was there when I left, and well guarded - Simba couldn't have taken her so quickly. "Please, come sit." Simba looked back at him and smiled. Flustered and feeling defeated, Kovu walked up to the king tentatively. There was no harm in it, he supposed; and if need be, he could still toss the king to his death. Sitting by his side, Kovu descried the world below. It was a long fall.

"Tell me, what do you hope to accomplish with my death?" Kovu glowered at the lion next to him, wondering how he didn't know. "Surely it's obvious."

"I'm afraid it's not." The king smirked.

"Then perhaps you can ponder it in the afterlife."

"Do you think Zira can hold the throne for long?" Simba looked obsequiously at the other. "Even if you kill me, Nala would take my place; and if you managed to kill her, Kiara would take hers. My successors are many, and you would have to kill the entire pride before Zira could claim herself as regent."

Kovu seemed abashed. His mother hadn't considered the possibility of multiple successors, and it certainly put a new perspective on things. "That didn't stop Scar."

"Scar had the hyenas at his back, and they were many. While I've seen the Outlanders, I would not consider your numbers a threat."

"Numbers aren't everything." Kovu scoffed.

"You're right," Simba assented. "Numbers mean nothing if you don't know how to use them. Scar learned that the hard way."

The younger lion cringed. "You murdered him and claimed the throne; how would me killing you be any different?"

"I didn't murder him; he was my uncle, and killing him was the last thing I wanted."

"Then why?" The information came as a surprise to Kovu. Zira never told him that Simba was Scar's nephew - and he now realised that the king he intended to kill all along was more or less family. Then again, it seemed like every lion was somehow related. "Scar was consumed by his greed." Simba replied sadly. "He didn't know when enough was enough, and when it came down to it he couldn't govern. He let the hyenas roam unchecked, and they over-hunted to the extent that much of the herds were driven off. These Pridelands became a wasteland, and many of our people starved. When I left as a cub, these lands were virid and rife with all manner of fauna and flora - when I returned, it was almost indistinguishable from the Outlands, no offense intended.

"I confronted him, and words were exchanged, some less civil than others. In my doing so, I learned that he was responsible for killing my father, the former king - for years of my life, I thought his death was my doing - so when I found out the truth, I was enraged and heartbroken, because I loved my uncle almost as much as I loved my father. Even with this knowledge, I did not wish him harm, and so I gave him the chance to renounce his title as king and leave the Pridelands. But stubbornly he refused, and we fought - when I tossed him off the ledge, it was an act of defense - if the battle had ceased before either of our lives were taken, I still would have let him go. So for you to say I murdered him, I find that insulting."

Simba seemed to be on the verge of tears, and Kovu too was moved by the tale. Simba was more merciful than he could have possibly imagined, but still one question rankled in his mind. "Why did you send us to live in the Outlands? Many of us were cubs, innocent and not deserving of such a punishment. We live day to day dying of starvation and dehydration, and some of us just want a better life for ourselves."

"It's not an easy task sending a family to their potential death, but it had to be done. Zira was their leader, and Zira was an avid follower of Scar - I simply couldn't allow them to stay here any longer. But make no mistake, I didn't send her and her pride to the Outlands; that was her choice - I exiled her from the Pridelands, but that is all. Why she chose such a desiccated place I can't say, though I'd guess due to its close proximity it would be easier for her to linger there until the day when she could exact her revenge upon me - and that brings the focus to you, as that's what you're here for."

The king turned and looked into Kovu's eyes - it was disarming, and the young lion didn't think he had ever felt more uncomfortable. Here was a soul that knew nothing but kindness, and to think that he was moments from killing him just prior left him unnerved. Still, what was he meant to do? He couldn't return to Zira having failed - though he was her cub, he knew failure meant punishment, if not death. "Would you still take my life?" Simba inquired. He wasn't pleading, Kovu knew; it was an earnest question.

Sighing, Kovu hung his head. "I don't know. I suppose not, but you know what that means."

"This doesn't have to be a failure." Simba said with a grin, "There are other means of victory besides revenge. My uncle wanted revenge on my father, and both of them are dead now. If you kill me, you'll just be continuing a vicious cycle of death."

"What else can I do?"

"Go back to Zira and tell her that you thought it wise to negotiate with me rather than end my life; tell her that the Outlanders may live in the Pridelands so long as they don't cause trouble."

Kovu's eyes lit up, and for the first time in a long time he genuinely smiled. "Really?" he said, attempting to contain his excitement. He would finally eat and drink proper, and he'd go to bed every night with a full stomach - so would his family, and the thought seemed too good to be true. "But what about my mother? She wishes you dead."

"She'll be placed under close observation, and it's true that she might try to take my life - but perhaps a while of living here will make her forget old animosities. We'll cross that path when we get to it."

He took a deep breath, and for once Kovu did not feel the miasma that had pervaded his life for years. Simba was a good king, and there was no doubt about it. For a few minutes they sat there in silence whilst they listened to the slow, sonorous chirping of crickets in the distance. Simba found himself affixed upon the stars again, and Kovu decided to join him. The stars were multifarious and beyond count; if he stared long enough, he could feel stirring in him a sense of belonging - almost like he was meant to be here in this moment, gazing up at the universe. It filled him with wonder that something so grand, so beautiful could be allowed to exist, especially with the toils him and his family had suffered through. "My father once told me that up there are all the great kings of the past, silently watching over us, guiding us, and protecting us. You are not my son, but perhaps some day I'll watch over you."

"Why?" Kovu found himself addled. He had come here to kill him, then he was told him and his family could stay in the Pridelands, and now Simba was offering to be his guardian; it didn't make sense.

"Because" Simba said, turning his eyes once more to Kovu, "you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger." What he did next was entirely unexpected: Simba pulled Kovu into an embrace, and for a moment they stayed like that; Kovu's face buried in Simba's mane, and Simba's arms wrapped around him, holding the younger lion tight. "Go home and tell Zira everything I've said," he whispered, "then tell her that a shining new era has arrived. She'll know what it means."