A/N: Hey! This fic is for CptObvious (love you), since he gave me the idea. I know the title is a bit cheesy, but I cannot think of anything better. This is just a bit of insight on Scar.

I don't own the Lion King.

Be prepared

My name is Scar – hear me roar. I will take over the Pride Lands and so much more; the darkness beyond Pride Lands, there where the hyenas are.

The bane of my existence is Mufasa: my brother, my friend and, ultimately, my enemy. How I hate that kin of mine, always outshining everything I do. Why am I forced into the shadows whilst he claims the glory? Is it because my skin is darker?

I looked out from my shaded rock onto the Pride Lands; it was beautiful and thriving with life: little butterflies fluttering from tree to flower, bees zooming by merrily, a caterpillar emerged from a cocoon and has been transformed into a butterfly with bright yellow wings, somewhere near I hear a wild boar calling her young, and on the other side a doe is bathing her child.

I chanced a look at my brother. He was sitting next to Sarabi, their new cub cradled in his mother's arms. It was a promise to always look after him, to guide him and never leave him, even in death. Mufasa was smiling a soft smile that his furry lips hardly ever made. It was the picture of perfection to an outsider like me.

I hate them. No, I hate him. And still I feel as though hate isn't the strongest word or emotion that I feel towards him.

As a cub, my parents never paid attention to me. I didn't say 'much attention' because they paid no attention at all. I was taken in by another, a lioness with dark fur like my own. I don't recall her name, I was much too young when she passed away – and then I was on my own.

I saw my father teach Mufasa how to hunt like a lion, but he didn't include me. I wasn't surprised, because they never did.

I wonder if my mother ever held me like Sarabi is holding Simba. Was her embrace simply a lie or did she not bother to hold me at all? I ought to ask Mufasa, but I didn't want to owe him anything.

The Pride Lands were supposed to be mine! They were supposed to belong to me and only me. Now I'm second in line again to that brat of a cub. I would never get the throne!

I learned to hunt from the hyenas. They were scavengers and cowards to say the least, and not particularly bright, because it was fairly easy to manipulate them into doing my bidding. I quickly became their king – I had promised food and shelter as much as they desired, but I didn't plan on truly giving it to them. I'll maybe let them stay for a year before I chase them away. Their all a bunch of idiots – the lights are on but nobody's upstairs.

When it was time for my father to train us as leaders he gave me a swift paw on the hind and roared at me to never return.

Unwanted, rejected, alone.

Mufasa tried to make contact, but I didn't need his pity. I would scheme my way to the top – that was how I was raised by the hyena pack.

No more. I will never allow him to take my place as leader, as King! I was denied for decades! Pushed aside by my father like stale meat and rejected by my mother.

They were not my family! They didn't care for me.

I cast my eyes upon the tiny cub held so lovingly in his mother's paws – that was why I would win. I would make myself a friend to them, a trustee, so the little lion gained some trust in me.

And then I would make them writhe – I'd make them wriggle like a mouse in my grasp. I would toy with them, like I always do with my food, and then I'd let them taste the bitter taste of defeat.

You will see how wondrous I am! Be prepared, Pride Lands, you are mine!