Dawn of Contentment
"Now this looks familiar..." Scar began, pretending to be immersed in thought as he watched his nemesis struggle. His apathy was nothing short of tantalizing, while he secretly reveled in his imminent victory. "Where have I seen this before? Let me think."
Scar was doing all he could to prolong the situation, simply waiting to see his nephew fall from the highest ledge. Plumes of smoke ignited below, and marked what would certainly be the death of the prince. "Mmmmm... hmmm," Scar pretended to think aloud. He covered his mouth with his paw, in a slightly effeminate way.
Meanwhile, Simba extended his claws deep into the rock above, but continued to slide. It was only going to be a matter of seconds before he fell, and he knew it. His time was running out; he had no option of survival but to beg for Scar's mercy.
Scar continued to taunt his opponent, placing his paws above Simba's. His face lit up with sadistic sense of satisfaction, as soon as he allowed himself to continue. "Oh yes, I remember!" he chuckled to himself. "This is just the way your father looked before he died."
Both Simba and Scar began to feel the scorching heat from under Pride Rock, while the fires ignited in full force. From afar, it appeared as if an entire ball of flame was about to engulf them both. Cinders and ashes churned in the windy bursts of lava, while the two lions met their fate.
Scar drilled his claws directly into Simba's flesh, causing the latter to roar in agony. This was it, now: the final moment. Simba was about to die, and there was nothing he could do to save himself. The fight had already been won, and Scar was the clear victor.
"And here's my little secret," Scar added, grinning with twisted pleasure. "I killed Mufasa."
As the evil lion finished his words and caught his breath, he loosened his grip on his opponent. Before Scar decided to let go, however, he still had one last thing to say. "Goodnight, sweet prince."
In consequence, Simba's hind legs dangled below, unable to grasp on to the edge. Without Scar holding him up, he slipped. Simba could no longer keep himself up, and gravity soon took over.
The lion plummeted into the fire below him, accelerating rapidly to the crash site of his death. Memories of his father's death flashed through his eyes, while he, too, fell to the end of his life. Simba's surroundings all merged into a single blur of motion, but his sense of reality had never been any sharper.
With a loud thud, the prince finally collided into the ground, dispersing his energy into the sand and twigs below him. "Hngh!" he exhaled heavily, as paws collided and collapsed into the burning Earth.
For several seconds afterward, Simba rested like a carcass in his crater, unable to even breathe. As Simba landed, his fur extinguished the fire below him. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, but it was largely superficial—thankfully, he was still alive.
Meanwhile, Scar walked gracefully down the promontory of Pride Rock, grinning ever so slightly with each step down the stone path. He had just hurt his opponent, but it was now time for him to finish the other off. Needless to say, Scar looked forward to it with a sick and twisted pleasure, unmatched by any other lion in his family.
"I should have done this a long time ago," Scar admitted. Although he struggled to keep himself calm, despite the adrenaline flowing through his blood, he had never appeared any more satisfied. He had already killed one, and now he would kill two. It seemed easy enough.
Simba struggled to maintain consciousness, coughing helplessly as he inhaled nothing but smoke. Yet, as his sense of balance stabilized, he noticed the lionesses and hyenas approaching, in the corner of his eye. Scar wasn't the only lion on his way—now, the whole pride was getting involved.
Whose side the lionesses would choose remained to be seen, but that was irrelevant to Simba.
Appearing far weaker than he actually was, Simba only waited for his uncle to approach him. Watching Scar close the distance was a slow and agonizing process, without question, but Simba bit his lip and feigned his weakness. He waited for Scar to move in for the kill, and then he would do the same.
It didn't matter that Simba couldn't breathe. He could see the image of his father, which gave him a strength greater than he had ever experienced before. Perhaps it was merely adrenaline, but to Simba, it was so much more. He could almost hear the voice of his father cheering him on. It wasn't just motivating—it was empowering and overpowering, below the most fundamental level of consciousness.
Using his last burst of adrenaline, Simba did not hesitate to move in for the kill. In a desperate move, he attempted to sink his teeth into Scar's neck, while his two forepaws moved to grapple his uncle's neck from opposite sides. Simba was certain that he would avenge his father, or die trying.
Scar noticed the lion lunging directly towards his weak spot, and quickly stepped out of Simba's path. Simba's attack was minor at best, and hopeless at worst. He was much too focused and traumatized to fight effectively, even with the guidance of the great kings of the past.
Yet, even as ineffective as his attack was, Simba managed to grab onto Scar's flank. It was certainly less than lethal, but it allowed him to grab a few chunks of meat, and add a bit of pain to Scar's sense of superiority. It wasn't a minor victory for Simba; his attack only brought him a minor defeat, instead.
Scar gasped, once again pretending to be innocent. "I... I told you!" he cried aloud. "Simba is a murderer!" He glanced over at the approaching lionesses, hoping between every breath that they had seen Simba's attack.
As the lioness continued to watch, Scar twisted around rapidly, causing Simba to fly off. Consequently, Simba's head rammed violently into the base of Pride Rock, nearly cracking open like a nut on impact. With his back to the observers, Scar released a chuckle with his evil grin, once again celebrating his victory.
Nala screamed aloud in both horror and disbelief, while her mate was about to be brought to his death, for sure. "Simba!" she called, but received no response from the injured lion. Her jaw stood agape, but her tail swished behind her with unprecedented anger toward Scar.
Scar watched his fallen adversary closely for any sign of movement—or lack thereof, more accurately. After several seconds, he was able to reassure himself of his status. "Oh, dear!" the king exclaimed, with great sarcasm. "I'm afraid Simba is dead..."
Scar then stepped closer to the fallen lion, and extended his claws to finish the job. He held his talons above Simba's throat, but oddly waited before he even thought of finishing the job. "And so a murderer dies, tonight," he stated coldly. "How sad... how heartbreaking."
Scar kept his claws in place, but turned around to face the lionesses with the news. "Oh, well I suppose it's time to put him out of his misery... wouldn't you say? Such a tragedy, this is..."
Of all the lionesses surrounding the two males, Sarabi was first to step forward. She did not speak, but it was clear from her expression that she had a few objections to the idea.
"And," Scar added, still feigning a mood of sadness, "I suppose the Pridelands belong to me, after all." He brought his paw up to cover his eyes, pretending to sniff and weep over the loss of his nephew.
"No, Scar," Sarabi asserted herself. The massive inferno approached slowly behind her, emboldening the outline of her form with a sinister glare of yellow and orange.
Scar shook his head oddly, before he stood still and raised a brow. "What?" he exclaimed, suddenly growing angry at the lioness's sudden outburst of resistance. He planted his forepaws on the ground between him and Sarabi, almost marking a line in the sand.
"That's enough," Sarabi continued. She sat down on her paws and wrapped her tail around her forelegs, showing little resistance to Scar's power. "You are the king," she admitted, albeit with utmost reluctance. "No one is here to challenge you."
"But," Sarabi interrupted herself. "Simba is still my son," she added, suddenly growing much more firm with her voice. "You will let him go." The lioness's sudden demand was calm, yet authoritative in the most regal of ways.
As queen, Sarabi had learned how to make negotiations with the leaders of foreign prides and species, and she quickly became a master of it, over the years. It was a skill that proved almost too useful in dealing with Scar, as they both discovered, long ago.
"No... no!" Scar yelled. "Simba is a murderer. He can't be allowed to live!"
Although Simba had already suffered a few minor burns, his life was unquestionably at an end, anyway. He was down and knocked out completely, and plumes of smoke already engulfed and obscured the figure of his fallen body. Even with Sarabi's help, there was little he could do to survive on his own.
But as Sarabi and Scar erupted into their heated discussion of diplomacy and negotiations, Nala developed her own plans, from afar. She watched in horror as the grass below Simba's carcass began to ignite—but she wasn't going to let it happen.
Nala stepped forward carefully, trying to keep quiet and hidden beneath Scar's gaze. She made her approach over to Simba with haste, while Scar remained busy with Sarabi.
"Wouldn't you hate to be responsible for the death of a family member?" Sarabi asked, creating an excellent distraction.
"But..." Scar replied hesitantly. "You see... I'm the king!" The lion almost choked on his words, although he tried his best to remain in power. "I can do whatever I want," Scar insisted. "He tried to kill me, and now I will kill him."
At that same moment, Nala grabbed one of Simba's paws between her jaw. She quickly pulled her unconscious mate away from the flames, just before he could suffer from any severe burns. The tips of his hairs were a bit hot and crispy, but he was otherwise unharmed by the flames.
The noise, however, caused a great deal of ruckus. Needless to say, the sound of a lion sliding across the grass was enough to grab Scar's attention. He turned around furiously, now annoyed by both Sarabi and Nala. "What are you doing?" he hissed, exposing his teeth to to the lioness closest to him.
Immediately, Nala released Simba's paw from her jaw, now that the two were safe from the flames. She stood up on all four legs, and lowered her head with her ears back and her incisors exposed. "He's not a murderer!"
"Oh? Isn't he?" Scar paused. However, despite Simba's imminent death, the lion king began to pant with increasing nervousness. "But... he killed Mufasa!" Scar fibbed hesitantly.
Nala forced her forepaws into the dirt, while a sweat-like substance dripped from her forehead. "I brought him here to kill you," she stated clearly. The declaration in itself did not elicit a reaction of surprise from any lion, but it was the directness of it that shook the air. Nala's words carried little meaning, but the emotion behind them was nearly overpowering.
Nala knew that she had just admitted to committing an act of treason. More importantly, however, she didn't care what Scar thought.
Although Nala wanted to stay strong in the face of Scar's wrath, she struggled to keep herself from feeling her own guilt. She quickly shifted her gaze down to Simba, but only momentarily. "Now I know why he didn't want to come," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
Scar grimaced at the lioness, but otherwise remained too angry to speak. "You..."
"I'm the murderer," Nala admitted, meeting Scar's hateful gaze with heavy resistance in her own eyes. "I brought Simba here to kill you. If you're going to kill him, you're going to have to kill me too," she insisted.
While Scar struggled to find a way to deal with the situation, the other lionesses stood behind Nala. "There's only one way for this to end," Nala continued. "Only one possible outcome, now."
Scar stepped back, gulping heavily. "Oh, yes... well, I see." The lion's breaths grew shallow, and he nearly retreated into the shell of his mane. "Oh, this is so unfair. My whole pride wants me dead..."
Yet, before Scar even considered admitting defeat, he winked, and a large pack of hyenas ran to his aid.
The hyenas approached from behind, and within seconds a skirmish erupted between them and the lionesses. Hundreds, if not thousands of mangy creatures fanned out across the burning savannah, biting, kicking, and howling their way through an entire pride of lionesses. Nothing could be seen but smoke, flames, and dust, but the cries of battle could be heard all the way from the borders of the Pridelands.
With the lionesses distracted, Scar approached Simba, once again. This time, he did not hesitate, nor did he even begin to show mercy.
With a swift and brutal motion of his paw, Scar slid his claws across the dying lion's throat, in an attempt to terminate Simba's life once and for all. "Long live the king!" he yelled with furious anger, booming all across the Pridelands.
Yet, Scar's paw was stopped directly in its path by an object resembling a stick. Something stood in his way, before he could drag his claws across Simba's throat. Regardless of whatever that something was, it was long, pointed, and narrow, made of a smoothed wood-like substance.
The stick contained three fruit shells on the end closest to Scar, and the hand of a blueish creature on the other. Before Scar could even comprehend what his eyes were picking up, he stepped back, completely surprised by the sight.
At that very instant, Rafiki leaped down from the promontory above. With him, his stick came crashing down on Scar's head, knocking the lion's tongue outside his mouth.
Suddenly, both the lionesses and hyenas ceased fighting. Every creature in the Pridelands stopped and watched, as Rafiki quickly stood himself back up. He held his stick defensively, like a sword, and released an oddly enchanting battle-cry, native to his own kind.
In a final motion, Rafiki leaped forward into a flip, and swung his staff down on Scar's head. He had already struck numerous blows to the lion king, but none were as fierce as the last.
In only a matter of seconds, Scar consequently dropped flat on his stomach, unable to move. By the time Rafiki retracted his lethal weapon, the evil lion was in no better shape than Simba. Scar's brilliant mind had been transformed into nothing but peanut butter. He was little more than a vegetable, in the largest sense.
Suddenly, Rafiki held his stick closer toward his chest. He keeled down before Scar's fallen body, and gave the fallen king a final bow of respect. Before he stood up, he had only one thing to say. "Pumzika kwa amani," the baboon whispered.
The mandrill then raised himself up onto his feet, and started to climb back up Pride Rock. As soon as he was near the top, he set his stick down on the ledge, and pulled himself all the way up.
Now standing atop Pride Rock, Rafiki gazed out at the awed expressions of all the creatures below him, before raising his head to the clouds. "I am the king now," he announced.
At that moment, the air suddenly died. Not a single noise sounded from even the farthest reaches of the Pridelands.
Sarabi's jaw dropped, almost immediately. Despite the sudden decay of calamity, the lioness was quickly overcome by her own baffled state of puzzlement. As soon as she regained her composure, she nodded. "Well..."
The remaining lionesses looked at one another, in a perplexed state of emotion. No one could believe what had just happened, nor could any lion decide what to think of it.
Nala scratched her head. "Well... I guess I'm okay with that."
Simba opened his eyes upon hearing his mate's softer voice, but groaned loudly in the process. Although he was in pain, he was beginning to wonder if he had just died and was about to meet his father. Something had happened, although he had no idea what it was in his state of unconsciousness.
"Simba?" Nala called.
A few seconds passed, before the realization finally sunk in. "Simba! You're still alive!" Nala exclaimed, running towards her mate and wrapping her paws around his charred fur in a cozy lionhug. A purr of relief escaped her throat, and she happily licked her mate's whiskers.
"I'm so sorry," Nala apologized, feeling overwhelmed with both happiness and guilt as she nuzzled Simba. "I had no idea that was what you were hiding!"
Eventually, a drop of rain hit the lioness's head. It was quickly followed by several others, as a heavy, cleansing downpour began to soak the land. The fires ended, and the rain came, bringing no greater relief to the Pridelanders. At long last, the drought was over, as was Scar's reign.
Although Nala hated being wet, she no longer cared. Scar was dead and Simba was still alive—that was all that mattered. As the lioness held her mate closely, she had never felt any happier.
"Wh—" Simba coughed up his lungs. "Where's Scar?"
"Rafiki killed him," Nala explained, still purring quite loudly while she rubbed her head across Simba's mane. "It's finally over... the crazy baboon is our king now."
Simba's eyes shot open. He jolted his head upward with surprise, but was held down by Nala's warm presence beside him. "Well..." Simba muttered, wondering just what it was that he actually thought of the news.
As soon as Nala let go, Simba pulled himself up on his paws. He scanned the horizon and found that the fires were mostly extinguished. The lionesses appeared to be happy, and even the hyenas seemed rather content with the outcome. "You know..." Simba began, "I guess things will be pretty okay."
Nala smiled warmly, and gestured towards the den. "Yeah," she agreed. "Let's go inside and play a game of Scrabble or something."