Hello anyone! Wazzup? The ceiling! (crickets chirp) okay, lame joke. It's the curse of the new girl …(holds up frying pan, Kamiko-Zephuru and some random Inuyasha fans who have read his fan-fic laugh) Okay, so I'm not as talented at humor as my brother, K-Z. Well, I'm not as patient either, so instead of an actual fan-fiction, I'm going to put in the website where the whole thing is already uploaded and I'll include the first chapter so you know whether or not to waste time. Then, if I'm lucky, I'll get a review or two! Yay! The URL below only takes you to the server where the fanfic is, and that's only w/o the spaces between the letters. Click on What Might Have Been by Ayita, another of my internet aliases. If you doubt me, ask Kamiko-Zephuru. And if anyone's done a WMHB sort of thing before that upload date, I am beyond sorry! All right, time for me to shut up! (bonks self in head with frying pan, faints)

h t t p : w w w . l i o n k i n g . o r g / t e x t /

Chapter 1

Everything was going according to plan. Scar watched the scene from a ledge above the gorge. Below, his brother, Mufasa, and his nephew, Simba, were desperately trying to survive Scar's carefully prepared stampede. There was little chance either would be able to find their way out of the gorge alive, and if they did, Scar was ready. He just needed to watch and wait.

In the gorge below, Mufasa, the King of all the Pridelands, ran against the endless stream of water buffalo towards his son. Simba's strength was ebbing away. The little cub wouldn't be able to hold on to the shabby tree he was hanging from much longer. Not that that mattered, because one rogue wildebeest was charging straight at the tree and smashed it to pieces as his sharp horns hit the trunk. Little Simba went flying. Mufasa jumped to meet the cub before he hit the ground. His son set firmly in the mighty lion's jaws, Mufasa felt himself calm ever so little, and turned to find a way to escape the gorge. Scar watched intently.

Mufasa began to run with the flow of the stampede, hoping that would lower his chances of being killed. But his paws slipped and he collided with the side of a large wildebeest. Simba fell out of his father's protective jaws and rolled across the trodden earth. He shook off the shock to find himself staring up into thousands of rock hard hooves coming at him. The cub was petrified, certain of his own death now. What have I done? Simba thought. But he wouldn't die. Mufasa scooped him up again and jumped at a small ledge. Mufasa let Simba out of his mouth and onto the safety of the high rock.

A wildebeest collided with Mufasa, taking him down.

"DAD!" Simba cried! Scar was getting impatient. Simba and Scar watched with anticipation. Would the mighty king of the Pridelands be destroyed in his last attempt to save his son by the brainless wildebeests, or would he somehow escape another encounter with death?

Shooting out of the madness in the gorge, one mighty, red-maned king began to climb up the steep western wall of the gorge. Damn! I'll have to kill him myself! thought Mufasa's brother. Scar walked towards the wall Mufasa was climbing to head him off.

Meanwhile, little Simba struggled up a wall of fallen boulders to reach the safe ground above the stampede.

Only… a little… further, Mufasa thought as the steep wall became sheer; almost unclimbable. Scar waited above.

"Scar!" cried out Mufasa. He slipped. "Brother! Help me!" Scar looked down at his brother. Mufasa had always been the better one. Better at hunting, at ruling, at fighting, at everything, and here he was, struggling to climb a few more feet. How pathetic! thought Scar, sitting contently above.

But as Scar, once Taka, looked down at his brother, he remembered. He remembered how Mufasa had comforted him when he received his scar. He remembered how Mufasa had defended him when other cubs made fun and teased him. He remembered how they had played as cubs and how they star gazed. He remembered the one time Mufasa had tried to convince their father to take himself and not Mufasa out for lessons for one day…

And then Scar thought of what was now. He thought of his mischievous little nephew, whom he was quite found of in truth. He thought of how he had loved and tried, unsuccessfully, to court Queen Sarabi. He thought of the pain he would cause her if he murdered her husband and son. And, Scar thought of Zira. She had always been there. When Scar got his scar, when Sarabi broke his heart, when he and Mufasa got in a fight, whenever things got sticky. They had been close friends since cub hood. What would she think if she found out he was a murderer? What would she do? Would he ever be able to redeem himself, if in anyone's, her eyes?

It had only been seconds since Mufasa called out to Scar. And now, Scar did not see a pathetic emblem of his hatred. He saw his own flesh and blood and a symbol of the good memories of his cub hood struggling to stay with him…

Scar flew at Mufasa, claws out, teeth bared. He dug his claws deep into Mufasa's paws, who let out a blood-freezing roar of pain. Scar moved in, his eyes fixed on his brother's. Scar opened his mouth to speak.

"Come my brother. It is time to live."

Scar grabbed some of Mufasa's mane in his mouth and pulled.

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"Dad!" Simba called. He had climbed the rock barrier, and came running across the ledge to Mufasa. Mufasa turned to his brother, panting, and smiled. Scar just looked down, his heart full of guilt. "Go to your son," he said. Mufasa nodded.

Simba looked close to having a heart attack. He trembled furiously. Having reached Mufasa, he was now free to loose it.

"Dad!"

"Calm down, my son."

"But it's all my fault! I startled the wildebeests! We could have all died!"

"But did we?" Mufasa looked calmly at Simba. The cub considered what his father said.

"But look at you!" Simba cried. Mufasa was covered in sweat, dirt, grime, wildebeest fur, and plenty of dry (or drying) blood). He looked himself over, slightly amused at his son's fright.

"It's all my fault! They could have killed you, Dad!" Simba hung his head and began to cry.

"Hey, hey," Mufasa lifted his son's head with his paw. "Dry those tears. It doesn't matter what could happen, what should have happen, or what we want to happen. All that matters in life is living up to your name, to the Circle of Life, and doing the right thing no matter what does happen. Do you understand, Simba?"

The cub nodded shamefully.

During all of this, Scar had barely moved. He was looking at his paws, his claws now stained with his brother's innocent blood. What had just happened? He had planned this moment thousands of times, and when he finally came to it, finally was in reach of the crown he so richly deserved, he… What had he done?… The right thing, Scar thought solemnly. He looked up. Mufasa was coming at him.

"Brother," Mufasa said, "Had it not been for you, I'd have not saved my son, and I would be trampled beneath the hooves of those wildebeests. For that, I thank you, not as a king to his savior, but as a brother to his honorable brother. I will reward best I can for this, and give you all the gratitude my heart has."

"Thank you," Scar whispered. No, not Scar. Taka had saved his brother. Scar was the one who stained his own claws with Mufasa's blood. And now, Taka thought of the hyena's. What will they do? thought Taka apprehensively.

"Come," Mufasa broke into Taka's thoughts. The King allowed the young Prince to climb into his mane to sleep. "Let us go home."