A/N:
Hello there! This is first Lion King Fic I've done, so I'm still getting the hang of writing all the characters personalities. This is just the intro, so bare with me haha. And, of course, comments would be very helpful :)
This is the story of Scar, after Simba takes the throne, but also that of his childhood. It's based on the concept that perhaps the hyenas did not actually kill Scar as opposed to what the movie led us to believe, BUT did not actually show. This is meant to explain how and when Nuka, Vitani, and Kovu entered the story, and Zira's relationship with Scar, as well as Kopa's story. But the main purpose of this story is to get a feel for the true character of Scar, and to reveal all his loves and losses, and his inner demons.
Reviews are appreciated, and I will try my best to reply to them :) Suggestions, constructive criticism, random ideas, etc, also welcome!
Anyways, without further ado, here is the very first part, Out of the Ashes! Enjoy :)
Song: Rootless Tree -by- Damien Rice
Prologue
Slinking in the shadows, a prince of darkness, a king of lies, he was finally left to the death his life had merited. The lion, now a mass of shredded skin and seeping blood, lay motionless on the cold ground. The searing pain had taken over his body long ago, and left his mind in a surreal state of semi-consciousness. His heart was fluttering weakly; his eyes peered out into the abyssal darkness of the night, reflecting the small flames that still danced among the bushes. Though his head was roaring with the cries of hyenas, the clap of thunder, and the pain that drown out all thoughts, a single message managed to seep through the cracks.
It was over.
It was finished. It was finally…over. But what accompanied that thought was the shock that, for him, a physical death was actually a relief. All the torment and loss, and silly regrets, they had come to an end, and in truth, he had not left much goodness in the world to be missed for. Sure, he could pretend to be the misguided fool, the tortured soul that many an old friend had made him out to be, but at the core of him was a heart as black and arcane as the vast sky above him. Though he hid that fact very well in life, he dared not do it in death.
So there he lay, coated in the scarlet of his own blood, silent and unmoving. He could hear things, voices of pain and of relief, of retreating hyenas, and the glorious roar bellowing from his nephew's throat. He felt things too, gently and numbed, but there was a damp cold sensation that traveled throughout his body as fresh rain trickled along his back, mixing with blood. He knew he was being forgotten already, they must have thought him dead. Either that or they cared not enough to see if he wasn't.
The seconds passed quickly for him, melting into minutes, and minutes into an hour. Yet it seemed like no time had passed at all. The sharp sting of death had not yet come to him, and he wondered why, why this pain would not end, and how impossible it was that he had not already bled out. Barely floating at the back of his mind, was the thought that perhaps he was not going to die as quickly as he thought. Maybe the agony would last forever, a fitting punishment. The thought made him want to laugh. Then, it came to him, as a tickle at first, a fleeting idea. But the idea soon consumed his comatose state, maybe he wouldn't die after all. Perhaps there was a reason for him to live…
He blinked; his eyes began to come into focus once again. Though the rain fell steadily now, a small part of the brush around him was still alight with dying flames, charred bits of trees and grasses lay about on the dusty ground. It was still fighting, though the rain tried so hard to smother it into ashes.
He knew, he could not die here. Not now, he still had a mind to fear death. He would no longer feel the enveloping self-pity, he needed to fight. And for the first time in his life, he truly fought with everything bit of strength he had left in his little black heart.
He lifted one heavy paw from underneath him, and struck the ground in front of him, his gleaming claws digging into the dirt. Contorting his broken body, he lifted the other paw, and it hit the ground with a resounding thud. In small painful movements, he began to drag his aching body towards the bushes.
Out of the ashes, he too would rise, and be-
Reborn.
