Revenge, a dish best served cold. This was what I'd been waiting for my whole life - a chance to overthrow my irksome brother, to rid my kingdom of any heirs to the throne, to be king! And there I was, standing atop Pride Rock.

The cold wind whipped through my inky black mane and the scent of blood and power overwhelmed me. The lionesses stared forlornly up at me, and I laughed, a deep, ruthless laugh that sent vibrations through the air.

"I am your King," I roared through the night wind, "and you will bow down to me!" I sat back onto my haunches and lifted a dark orange paw in delight. The lionesses raised their heads and moaned at the sky. I slammed my paw down, sending some stray pebbles skittering off of the cliff, and demanded, "Louder! With respect! Sarabi!"

A peach-colored lioness with tufts in her fur looked up at me, her hooded eyes unblinking. "Yes, Scar?"

"King Scar," I hissed. I prowled off of the main rock onto a boulder so I was only a few stones away from Sarabi. "And listen to me," I continued, narrowing my eyes, inwardly shaking with the excitement of being ruler, "I've heard you talking about him...that lion."

"You mean, Mufasa," Sarabi replied, baring her teeth just a bit.

I shuddered with a snarl. "Yes! You know who I mean! Enough with these unnecessary conversations about past rulers. Iam your only king," I felt myself beginning to heat up with ambition, "I am the one who decides whether you live or die, not Mufasa, not Simba, me, me, me!"

"Are you so sure about that?" Sarabi asked me, tilting her head menacingly. "Because even though Mufasa is dead, Simba is alive. He must be, I can feel it. And if my Simba is alive, you can be sure that he'll come back to take revenge. Beware, King Scar..."

And years later, I recalled this incident, when through the fire approached a tall, muscular figure, orange as the fire itself. Simba. He had confronted me just minutes earlier. And I thought I had escaped him. I felt something strange inside of me when his paws padded towards me, sparks bouncing off of him. I felt...fear. Was it possible? Was I, Great Scar, Great King of the Jungle, afraid of another lion who was just a measly cub a few years back? But what Sarabi had said...I thought I had forgotten it, but it stuck with me through the years. I had always been afraid of Simba returning and reclaiming his - no, my - throne. And here it was, right in front of me.

"Murderer..." Simba growled, a lock of fiery man hanging over one eye. I backed away, aware of the ledge of a cliff right behind me. I made excuses, my voice shaking. Until -

"Run," Simba hissed, "run away, Scar. And never return." I paused, my eyes widening. I recalled saying those very words to him, the last time I saw him, when he was just a cub: Run away, Simba, and never return. Did he really mean -

I began to slink away, and I could see out of the corner of my eye Simba slumping with relief. But I swiped burning ashes into his eye and then I attacked him. My claws sunk into his fur, and we leapt into the air, clawing at each other. The fire blazed around us, reminding me that this was the beginning of the end. When we landed, rocks crumbled and tumbled down into the fiery abyss. And finally, bruised from the fight, I slapped Simba to the stone with all of my might. He lay there, dazed for a moment, and then I leapt from the fire, aimed at him. I was filled with ecstasy - here it was, the moment that I was going to kill Simba!

And in the blink of an eye I was tumbling down off of the cliff. I landed on burning earth and saw the hyenas, my friends, approaching me. But there was murder in their eyes.

I roared, but no one heard.