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Not Written In The Stars
-Tohias-

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[CHAPTER 2]

Morning light came with silence.

It was silence born when too much sound and chaos had been thrown into the air and left to settle on its own – even the crickets didn't sing at risk of disturbing the quietude as the earth mourned.

It was this silence that Kovu woke up to.

Standing on shaky paws, the young lion stretched his bruised body, feeling the bites, cuts and burns far too keenly. He immediately noted his mane was a little lopsided with the edged singed by fire, one claw on his left hind leg had broken off completely at some point and he had sustained at least three cracked ribs from those hyenas.

Using more effort than he liked to admit, Kovu peered around the enclosure to locate his companion but realised he was alone.

Simba was gone.

Alarmed and fearing he had been left behind, the young lion leaped outside only to be greeted by a dusty trail of paw prints leading far over the hills.

So Kovu frantically darted over the rocky landscape and moved east, searching for any signs of his wayward King.

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It was almost noon when Kovu finally picked up a fresh scent of the King.

Perking his ears and lifting his nose into the air, Kovu ignored his own battered body and bolted after the smell of old blood and dusty fur. He eventually found the unmoving silhouette of the dethroned King sitting by the water edge of a flooded gully, the lion's neck craned low and peering into the pool like he was ready to fall in.

Carefully Kovu approached, making sure to snap some twigs to subtly let the other lion know he was behind him.

Tentatively the younger lion called out, "Simba?"

The King didn't turn.

Kovu moved closer till he was standing to Simba's left but still a good few paces away to maintain a respectful distance.

"Simba," Kovu inched closer till he was barely a few strides away from the other lion. "Simba, come on we have to go back, we have to find Kiara –"

Simba was on him before he could finish his sentence, his entire body weight pressed into his stomach and sharp claws digging into his throat. The low menacing growl from the King ran through Kovu's entire body with menacing vibrations that promised nothing but pain.

Simba had always been the gentle King, which was unusual behaviour among lions in general but Simba played it well. He lived it well. So the visage of unadulterated blood-thirsty rage was so polarized to everything Simba had represented that Kovu was struck frozen like a cub underneath the threat imprinting into his bones. But he was trained better than that. So working on instinct, Kovu kicked Simba in the gut and rolled out of the way into a defensive crouch.

However before the fight could progress further, Simba doubled over as painful wet coughing wracked his body into the ground.

Forgetting their hostilities, Kovu quickly moved out of his crouch and cautiously inched closer till he finally saw all the blood. He saw hot crimson curdling out of the King's mouth like hot mud pools over volcanic rock, dribbling down till it made a patch work of green grass turn red between their paws.

That was when Kovu saw it.

It was shard of ivory from a hyena claw lodge in the King's throat, piercing the flesh dangerously close to his vocal chords but clearly missing anything vital. The fur under Simba's chin was sticky and smelt of rust where the wound festered painfully.

"Your throat…" Kovu eyed the awful wound.

The bone was too high up in the lion's throat that there was no way Simba could pull it out with his teeth and it was too small to be hastily yanked out with his paws. It required far too delicate handling. Kovu eye the self-inflicted claw marks carved into Simba's throat where he assumed the King tried to pull it out himself but only ended up making it worse.

"Simba just stay still and let me help –"

The moment Kovu stepped closer, Simba's fur raised on its ends as he pulled his teeth back in a silent snarl.

The younger lion crouch back, his own snarl matching Simba's involuntarily.

The King eyed Kovu like he was nothing more than fungus on a rock, his disdain very clear by the coldness that iced over russet eyes. Then the King turned around exposing his back to Kovu without hesitation, without protection and without care if Kovu would attack.

It was meant as insult, demonstrating how very little of a threat, of creature, of a lion Simba thought of him.

Kovu should've growled, he should've pounced, he should've ripped into the King's hide just for showing such discourtesy.

He should've killed the king just like his mother sang to him in his cradle. He should've done a lot of things.

But Kovu knew he couldn't.

Leave.

Leave without him. You don't need a dethroned King.

Simba was already a small figure over the next set of rocky hills and Kovu just wanted to find his own way back to the Pride Lands.

Find Kiara. You don't need him.

But like most things in his life, Kovu's actions were dictated by the memories of ghosts.

First was Scar.

And now Queen Nala.

Not matter how much Kovu wanted to leave Simba behind, he couldn't because he would be assaulted by soft blue eyes imploring him to stay with the King, to stay with her husband. To keep the royal family together.

Nala's smile had been so sweet even when half of her innards were spilling on the floor.

Don't leave them behind Kovu. Please, don't leave him alone.

Her kindness was a weapon, he should have realised it sooner. Lovely, lovely devious Queen.

Gritting his teeth, Kovu followed the King, stepping in the older lions paw prints till the landscaped changed into unrecognisable shapes and questions of where they were going no longer spun in circles insides Kovu's head.

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My baby Kovu,

They will never tame you, because you will tame them.

They will never shame you, because you will shame them.

And my beautiful little cub, you will claim them if they try.

You will burn them as beg, as they cry.

Oh, but let them try.

Because it will only taste more glorious if they put up a fight.

And when you win, devour them. Consume whatever they once were, what they would've been and make it yours.

And when you've finished pissing in their hollowed out bones…

Do it all over again.

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Sometimes, Kovu thought his mother's lullabies sounded almost lovely.

He supposed anything would sound seductive and sweet when she used her rare soft croons that were so clearly filled with broken dreams and a kind of heartache that Zira would never admit she felt.

How much of that heartache was fed into him unwillingly? How much of his mother's own tragedy did Zira shove down his throat?

Kovu didn't know.

All he knew was that when he tried to vomit out his mother bitterness, it burned up his throat and yanked all his organs out with it.

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The King kept moving east.

Rain or shine, hot to cold, dusk to dawn.

It was always east.

Kovu wrangled down the isolated feeling in his belly when he could no longer see the golden plains of the Pride Lands. They were so far away from home, further than Kovu ever dreamed he would travel and yet there seemed to be no stopping in sight. When Kovu tried to speak, tried to urge the King to turn back, to find whatever was left of the Pride Lands, Simba would ignore him like one would ignore a particularity persistent fly. But when Kovu pleaded the King to turn back and help him find Kiara, to help find his daughter…

Kovu found himself adding another broken rib to his impressive collection of injuries.

Then afterwards the King would just keep on pulling himself forward like the heat of the sun was bleeding energy from the older lion, like anything that didn't contribute to the action of walking east, one paw in front of another wasn't worth addressing.

And Kovu – the idiotic, fool of a lion that he was – would continue to follow the King without a word.

During all this, Simba never looked back at him once.

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Note: Thank you for reading!