Morbid Thoughts
These are the thoughts of Scar during the very dramatic and heart-wrenching stampede scene in The Lion King. Basically, I have reinvented Scar's history to fit my agenda, including how he got his scar, because the actual story, in my opinion, is just stupid. So, Scar (back then Taka) fell in love when he was a young lion, with a friend of Sarabi's, Maisha. They were happy, and Taka's twisted, jealous heart was starting lighten. He might have even become sort of friends with his brother. Until Maisha and Sarabi got trapped in a gorge. Mufasa was the only super strong brother who would be able to save him, since their father was too far away to help. But Mufasa saved Sarabi first and foremost, allowing Maisha to be trampled to death before Taka's eyes. Taka had tried to save Maisha, only to have his eye viciously slashed by a wildebeest. After, he requested to be called Scar, and his quest for furious revenge began. Please, no harsh flames. I'm fragile.
Scar padded up to a ledge, searching for the hyenas. His eyes roved the wildebeest heard, searching, while suppressing a shudder. He wasn't particularly one for showing emotion, but wildebeest made his scar tingle. Finally, he spotted Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. His three faithful stooges, who had nurtured his bitter hatred against his older brother all those years. Stupid yet necessary. They were idiots, but necessary to his plot to end Mufasa once and for all. He gave a nod, and the canines slunk off. He turned and walked to another high ledge, half searching for Mufasa and the inevitable Zazu, half watching the scene unfold below him. The herd was moving swiftly, a panicky blur of murderous hides. He wouldn't mind if the hyenas picked off one or two. He didn't know much about the emotions of cows, but he hoped they felt pain. Severe emotional pain. A tiny golden dot was staring at the stampede in horror. Scar's mouth twisted in a malevolent smirk. Simba. Mufasa's precious son, the next king. Scar was hoping that Simba would meet his death at the hooves of the stampeded. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a blue wing. Zazu. He crept closer.
"Look Sire," Zazu pointed out. "The herd is on the move."
"Odd," Mufasa said. It wasn't odd last time, Scar thought viciously. He sprung from his hiding place, panting viciously as if someone he loved was in terrible danger. It wasn't hard. Scar just had to reach back into his memories of Maisha and that terrible day of the first stampede, the way his heart had thudded wildly in his chest, the way his lack of physical prowess had rendered him helpless, incapable of saving her. The fear inside of him became real for an instant.
"Mufasa!" He cried. "Quick! Stampede! In the gorge! Simba's down there!" His older brother's eyes widened with fear as he processed the information.
"Simba?" He gasped in panic. The powerful lion ran swiftly towards the gorge, Scar and Zazu at his heels. Scar felt like laughing in elation. His revenge was drawing so near, he could almost taste Mufasa's blood on his tongue. Or maybe he had cut his tongue by accident. Finally, the trio skidded to a stop. Zazu flew into the fray, as Mufasa searched anxiously for his son. Scar, however, was scrutinizing his brother. Was he feeling the pain Scar felt, when he had decided to let Maisha be trampled under the hooves of the wildebeest, while young Taka watched, knowing he could do nothing to save her? Scar hoped to the sky that Mufasa's pain would be ten times worse. That Simba would die, hopefully painfully, and Mufasa would never be happy again. Zazu flew back, and Scar rearranged his features in an expression of worry.
"There! There! On that tree!" The stooge pointed a wing to where the tiny cub was clinging to a protruding branch. A wildebeest knocked into the tree, and Simba cried out in terror as he was flung in the air, and then scrabbled back on the tree. Scar would not allow himself to pity the poor little cub. He would not. Not in a lifetime, in a hundred lifetimes. Mufasa rushed towards his son, fighting his way through the stampede, the only lion physically strong in the family. Scar let the worry fall from his eyes. No need to pretend any longer. But Zazu was still there, flapping his wings in a panic.
"Oh Scar, this is awful!" He cried fretfully. "What do we do? What do we do?" He gasped, as if he just had any idea. Scar clacked his teeth together to prevent himself from yelling at the stupid bird. "I'll go back for help, that's what I'll do! I'll go back for…" The dodo didn't finish his sentence, because Scar, getting severely annoyed with him, slammed him into a wall. Scar bounded onto a ledge once again, surveying the scene with his emerald eyes. Simba was launched into the air, screaming as he plunged into the fray. Something tugged at Scar's heart. He had heard that scream once before, just more feminine. Pure, abject terror, knowing the end was coming soon, knowing you were going to be trampled under hooves. But Mufasa caught his son in mid-air. Scar growled in frustration. Stupid Mufasa wouldn't DIE already! He prowled the ledge, watching as father and son struggled to make it to safety. Die Mufasa, Scar thought. Die. Feel the pain of having your loved one wrenched from you. Feel the hooves pounding against your bones as they trample you into nothingness. Feel the pain you inflicted on the people you claimed to love. He hopped to the top of the gorge, staring down as Mufasa deposited Simba on a ledge, then was carried away.
"DAD!" The little lion yelled, eyes searching frantically for his father.
"You won't see him again, little nephew," Scar murmured. But Mufasa plunged out of the stampede and onto the rock, digging his claws in.
"Impossible!" Scar hissed. How was Mufasa not dead? It was time for Scar to take matters in his own paws. If the wildebeest stampede wouldn't kill him, then Scar would have to. Scar did not want his brother to die by his own claws. How ever much he loathed him, how ever much he blamed him for Maisha's death, how ever much he wished to see him dead, Mufasa was still his big brother, who had tried to look out for him. Tried being the operative word, of course. But if Scar wanted to be king, if he wanted to stop Mufasa's heart from beating, he would have to become directly responsible.
"If you want something done, do it yourself," he said with a shake of his head, sitting back, wrapping his tail around his paws and waiting for Mufasa to come close. And he did.
"Scar!" He called out. Scar watched him with cool disinterest. "Brother! Help me!" His feet sent pebbles tumbling down the rock face. Scar resisted the urge to let him fall on his own. No, Mufasa would know of Scar's ultimate betrayal. He lunged and sunk his claws into Mufasa's paws. His brother roared in pain. Scar pulled him close, so that his eyes were just inches from Mufasa's wide ones. He relished this moment. His powerful brother, who could have saved both of the lionesses that day, at his mercy. Scar, the smart one, the one who was at the shallow end of the gene pool when it came to brute strength. Scar wished this moment could last forever. But unfortunately, there were things to be done. Time for Scar's plan to reach its climax, for his revenge to be complete at last.
"Long live the king." Mufasa's eyes widened at Scar's menacing growl, the final message, as his brother threw him with all his might off the cliff into the stampede. Scar threw back his head and laughed victoriously. Far away, he heard Mufasa's scream and Simba's desperate cry, mingled fear and heartbreak.
"NOOOOOOO!"
Scar emerged from the fog to find his young nephew sobbing over Mufasa's broken body. Scar could barely contain himself from flinching. In death, shrouded in dust, battered with hoof prints, Mufasa looked so much like Maisha. But Scar refused emotion. Simba was still alive, and the blood bath was not over yet.
"Simba…" Scar gasped. "What have you done?" Simba turned his big, tear filled eyes on his uncle, searching for a glimmer of comfort.
"Wildebeest… He tried to save me… It was an accident, I didn't mean for it to happen!" The little lost cub sniffed as more tears pooled out.
"Of course, of course you didn't!" Scar purred, voice dripping with false sympathy. He pulled his Simba close to him, rubbing his small back. Simba sobbed into his fur. "No one ever means for these things to happen." He turned his eyes upward, away from his heart-broken nephew. He didn't want to feel pain for the little lost cub without his father. "But the king is dead," Scar pointed out, his voice growing cold and hard. Simba looked up at him, mouth open as more tears came. Scar gave him a long stare. "And if it weren't for you, he'd still be alive." Simba sobbed once again, burying his face in Scar's fur. Scar barely repressed a shudder of revulsion. His sympathy for Simba was gone. Scar had done what he needed to do, and Mufasa had gotten what he deserved. Why should Simba be so upset over the death of an unsatisfying king? He gasped, entirely fake of course. "What will your mother think?" The mother ploy. If there was one thing no little son could stand doing, it was hurting his mother. Scar was playing all of his cards, not caring about how grievously he must be hurting his nephew. Simba sniffed.
"What am I gonna do?" Scar shook the cub off, put himself into a crouch, and pierced Simba's wide brown eyes with his green eyes.
"Run away Simba," he growled softly. "Run. Run away and never return." Simba took a last look at his father and took off. Scar felt a smile tug his lips, but it melted into a cold, expressionless line when he heard the hyenas pad out of the dust. He kept his voice cruel and dead.
"Kill him." The hyenas complied and took off, barking madly. Scar took a last look at his brother. Scar felt no pity, only cold triumph.
"And now I shall become king, just as I deserve."