No, I do not own The Lion King or any of these characters, if you can't figure it out.
I'm just a fan, yeah.
(Yeah, the prolouge's short, but there's not much to say...)
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The rain was pouring hard on the barren savannah. Smoke still filled the air from the recent fire. Lion's roars echoed through the skies, celebrating. Yet below Pride Rock, by a tree that was black to the roots, were three who did not join the victory.
One lay at the roots of the tree. He had dark brown fur, and a black mane wich was now matted and bloody. A scar came over his left eye, a showing of his burden of a past. Claw and bite marks covered his body, the king's time was over. Scar was dead.
A pregnant lioness stood above him, tears willing out of her eyes. She pressed her muzzle to his, murmuring softly. Zira shook her head, glaring at the top of Pride Rock, where Simba now stood, in the place her mate should have ruled for much, much longer.
Stumbling on his feet, a tiny cub padded over to the dead lion. His dark fur matching that of the one he walked to. He butted Scar half-heartedly, "Hey, dad. Wake up!" He looked up at the lioness, sobbing, "Mother, why isn't he waking up?"
She crouched down, gently licking her cub, "Nuka, oh Nuka. Your father is dead, my little one."
Nuka pressed his fur to his mother, silently crying. Zira blinked, looking to the sky. "Nuka, shh.. Look up," she lifted her cub's head with her maw, "You see up there? Every star is a king who now watches you. The brightest one, up there, is Scar. Remember him, for he was a great king."
The cub watched the sky with wonder. Zira looked away, and saw a regal lion stalking toward her, his reddish mane glistening in the rain like fire. He frowned, then growled, but said nothing, and turned away. Zira snarled, and deep in her heart, vowed that one day she would have her revenge.