"Life's not fair, is it? You see I— well, I... shall never be King." Taka allows the mouse scurry, try to escape but he catches the tail with the dexterity of a lion. A rumble in the depth of his chest sounds like the growl of a lion as well, it's laughter. "And you... shall never see the light of another day. Kwaheri."
A red-billed hornbill lands on the sill of his window, snapping its beak and looking far too knowing for it to just be an animal.
Taka holds the mouse by the tail between two fingers decorated in golden rings. He holds it above his mouth but doesn't eat it so he can ask the hornbill, "What do you want?"
The sound of the hornbill is musical but Taka understands it like words. He lowers the mouse and it squirms and escapes, disappearing through a crevice on the rock of his chamber walls.
"Zazu," Taka says to the hornbill. "You made me lose my lunch."
The hornbill sings again.
Fast like when he caught the mouse, Taka launches from his chair and holds the hornbill by neck and beak.
"Taka." The King is first stern and then calm when he says, "Drop him."
The hornbill squawks more than sings, flying to perch himself on the King's shoulder with ruffled feathers. Mufasa stands at the door of his brother's quarters, still dressed in the ceremonial robes and wearing his crown. The goldens and oranges and reds of the gown drag behind him.
"Why!" Taka nears Mufasa, after taking a cane that is more an accessory than a necessity, and dusts his brother's clothes from the feathers and leaves that had been carried by the wind. "If it isn't my big brother descending from on high to mingle with the commoners."
The hornbill sings again, more like a mutter under his breath (if birds can even do that). After all, Taka is far from a commoner. He's still a Prince, he's still second in line after Mufasa's son.
"Sarabi and I didn't see you at Simba's presentation."
"That was today? Oh, I feel simply awful."
The hornbill squawks again. Taka scraps the top of his cane on the wall, the iron screeches, leaves a mark, creates sparks that don't live enough to catch fire. Taka examines the scratch it left on his cane, on the forged roaring lion head that is the top.
"Must have slipped my mind."
The hornbill sings again.
Taka begins to growl and thrusts the cane towards Zazu, the hornbill, forcing the bird to flap his wings but not enough to take flight from the King's shoulder. "Well, I was first in line... until the little hairball was born."
Mufasa grabs the iron lion, moving the cane away from Zazu and away from himself. "That hairball is my son—" A growl starts in the depth of the King's chest, teeth baring. "—And your future King."
Taka fixes his cane to grab it proper. He walks around his brother to exit the quarters as he says, "I shall practice my curtsy."
"Don't turn your back on me, Taka."
"Oh, no, Mufasa. Perhaps you shouldn't turn your back on me."
Mufasa issues a real growl, a real growl that makes Zazu fly off his shoulder and that is met by an echo from the stone walls. He stands before Taka, teeth bared further and still growling in his throat. "Is that a challenge?"
Taka grabs his cane by the middle, waving it as if to tap Mufasa on his broad chest. "Temper, temper. I wouldn't dream of challenging you."
The hornbill perches on one of the torch holders on the hallway, singing. Taka turns his attention to Zazu.
"As far as brains go, I got the lion's share." Now, to Mufasa. "But when it comes to brute strength… I'm afraid—" He puts his hand back on the top of the cane, the metal end against the stone creating an echo less frightening than Mufasa's growls. "—I'm at the shallow end of the gene pool."
Zazu flies back to Mufasa's shoulder, singing and sighing in the best of his current capacities. Taka leaves them.
Mufasa laments, "What am I going to do with him?"