"Dad?" Scar stopped for a second, listening quietly. He heard the call again, and the sound of small paws along with it. The dust began to clear slowly, and Scar watched as nephew found the body of his fallen brother. Scar dug his claws into the hard ground, hoping to mask the scent of the small amount of blood Mufasa had spilled onto them when he had thrown the king from the cliff. He watched silently as Simba sobbed over the corpse, nudging his father's head helpless, begging him to wake up, to take him home, and away from this nightmare. But daddy wasn't there to take him home and wipe away the tears.
The king was dead. And Scar had killed him.
Scar listened as Simba called for help a few times, his tiny voice reaching out to every crevice of the gorge, but only Scar could hear them. The little prince sniffled, crawling under his father's leg and nuzzling against the great red mane. Scar watched the display without emotion, his nephew's hiccups echoing around him. He walked forward, slipping into his role.
"Simba." He gasped as he walked out of the cloud of dust. The golden cub turned to face the lion, eyes wet and tears running down his cheeks. "What have you done?"
"Th-the wildebeests, an-and he tried to save me...and...I didn't mean this to happen..." Simba choked out through his tears.
"Oh my dear boy!" Scar exclaimed in mock sympathy, reaching a paw out for the cub. "No one ever means for these things to happen." Scar pulled the child in, allowing him to cry into his uncle's leg, but far away enough that Scar could still keep his distance. "But the king is dead." He turned his green eyes on Simba. Simba stared up into his uncle's eyes before burying his face in the lion's fur. Scar lightly stroked the cub's back, offering a small bit of comfort to the sobbing child. "I say this with a heavy heart my boy, but as Mufasa's heir and successor, you are now the king." He heard the cub sob and began pleading with the older lion. He did not want the throne. Not like this. "There, there my child." Scar patted Simba on the head. "Until you are old enough, I shall rule for you." Simba hiccuped.
"Th-thank you Uncle Scar." Came from the sniffling prince. Scar nodded, a solemn expression in his face as he leaned down and snapped the cub's scruff between his teeth and rising to his paws. Simba said nothing and merely continued his quiet sobs as Scar began moving. The new king mentally preparing himself.
It was a perfect day for rain.
At least, that's what Scar thought. He watched the tears fall from his place on pride rock. Listened to Sarabi's painful wails as she clutched the sobbing Simba close. Scar sat looking at it all with a face of stone. Anyone looking at him would guess that he was keeping together for them, staying strong for his people, as a king should. But he's not, he doesn't care. He never cared. The king is dead. So what? The new king is here.
And the new king was never much for grieving.
Scar thought back. To when he was young, and beautiful. To when he loved like no one else. He thought back to Mufasa, an adolescent barely sprouting his mane and arrogant. He looked down at the small puddle gathering at his feet, at the scar on his eye and scowled.
The new king was never that forgiving either.
Scar looked up at the brush against his side, Sarabi had taken a seat next to him, little Simba between her teeth, exhausted and dozing. The queen was tired, oh so tired, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. Yet still so regal. She nudged Scar's shoulder, motioning with her shoulder to the den where the lionesses were retreating from the rain. Scar nodded, following her inside, and plopping down in usual spot in the corner.
He listened to sounds of the lionesses settling in, of muffled sobs, and the quiet rain. And felt at peace. He was finally there. He was exactly where he wanted to be. The small lion's lips turned up in a slight grin. He had done it. He was king. And there was nothing in his way.
"Uncle Scar?" The voice seemed so small. Scar quickly retreated back into the his role before he turned squinting in the darkness the see the small form of little Simba, standing before. The little prince had his head down, unable to look his uncle in the eye.
"Yes child?" Scar replied with a tilt of his head.
"C-can I sleep with you?" Simba briefly glanced up from his paws, a pleading look upon his face. Scar briefly thought of rejecting the little prince, and sending him back to his mother, but decided that Simba needed to stay on his side, and if that meant a night of being snuggled by his dead brother's brat than so be it.
"Yes Simba, I know you've had a hard day, please, just try to get some sleep." The corners of the older lion's mouth turned up slightly as Simba nodded, before curling into a ball and snuggling into his uncle's side.
"I love you Uncle Scar."
"I..." Scar blinked.
"I love you too Simba."