I.

Mufasa had at least a quarter of meat left to his huge hindquarter and he nearly choked on it.

"Wha-what?" he asked Simba, barely able to get out the words.

"I know, Dad." He rose to his feet sullenly. "I know there's been a lot of half-truths, secrets and just straight out lies." his eyes found his father's and they creased over in sorrow. Mufasa stared straight back into his with haunted ones. Simba flinched away, unable to look at them. He let his head drop back down. "I guess Rahisi told you how to scent-block. I guess Haki taught that it's better to keep things from your own son, considering you came here and watched me grow up."

Mufasa's meal dropped from his mouth completely.

"Fine, Dad." Simba's words trembled out. "Fine, just continue watching me grow up all alone."

He walked away stiffly with his back turned to his father.

Big mistake.

Mufasa instantly, in huge, unfaltering bounds, cut his son off. The big, softed goof of a father was gone and in his place stood a wide-shouldered lion of brute strength. Simba took a step back, dismayed. Father and son stood facing each other, breathing hard in the gathering gray.

"Never," Mufasa breathed out. "Did I expect my own son to turn his back on me. Deliberately."

Simba was without a comeback. He couldn't believe he was hearing this.

Then he realized his father couldn't believe what he had said to him.

"I've become a lot of things, son, but a liar I have never been. I know what Timo and Pambah have been teaching you, I know what you've become from their disciplining. Son, you honestly thought I wouldn't be keeping an eye on you? You are sorely mistaken." Simba shook, his lungs quivered as air seeped out of his mouth. "You've forgotten who you are and in so have forgotten me." Mufasa was calmer but he held his stance; Simba's head barely cleared his shoulders. "The only time Rahisi watched you was when I was hunting or met up with Haki. Deceit was not ever my intention and I am not sorry for keeping you in the dark. I am your father, the one and only."

The younger lion dipped his head in shame.

"And you are my son." Mufasa placed his paw on Simba's shoulder, he looked up. "Don't run from me, Simba. I'm not your enemy and you will not treat me as such with outbursts like that."

"I'm sorry Dad." He lowered his head again.

Mufasa used his paw to incline Simba's head up so high that he was standing up straight.

"I accept your apology, but I want you to understand why I'm telling you this."

Simba listened.

His father smiled lightly. "Come with me," he told his son. The lion followed his father.

...

"Here, son." Haki led Nuka into the termite mound his mother had found for their son and then to an old, rotted stump they sometimes placed him in during their hunts. "You'll sleep here." he took his son by the scruff of his neck and lifted him into it. "I want to stay put until tomorrow."

"But, Father, what are you and Mother planning?"

"That isn't your concern, Nuka." He father nuzzled him once. "Your mother and I have to keep you safe. I will bring you a meal in the morning and then in the evening. Remain here until then."

Haki turned to leave.

"Goodnight, Dad." The cub popped his head out one side of the jagged bark.

His heart skipped a beat. "Goodnight, Nuka." Haki's emerald eyes roamed back to him.

"Will the rest of our family survive tomorrow?"

He turned away. "It's you and Zawadi who must survive, son." the lion exited the mound.

...

Mufasa chatted as though nothing had happened.

"My father brought me here once." He said as they ventured further into the murky swamps. His son wasn't quite as agile as he was and therefore often got caught in the vines. Mufasa stood by patiently but did not assist. "I wasn't much older than you were the night you and I discussed the Great Kings." Simba met his eyes imploringly but his father was calm and decisive. "Remember, Simba?" his son smiled and nodded. Mufasa smiled too. "He also explained about other kings."

" 'Other kings?' "

"We aren't the only ones who carry royal blood." They came to a place where the water was a deep, midnight blue. Mufasa's eyes stayed trained upward, Simba quickly looked from the little creek to the sky with him. "A true king earns his right to rule, a true king battles valiantly and in the process will raise his sons and daughters in his image. Blood is spilled, bonds are broken... but the right to rule isn't just something you're born with, it must be earned as well." he met his son's inquiring eyes. "My father told me this, because he wasn't born into royality as I was son."

Simba cocked his head slightly to the side. "But I've never earned any right, Father."

Mufasa nodded slowly. "I've always had faith you would make the right decisions, son." he let his gaze wander down. "My father wasn't perfect, Simba." They locked eyes. "He could be a harsh, sometimes unforgiving ruler, especially as he aged." he paused. Simba listened nervously but with interest. "I think it had it's toll on your uncle, that's why I'm afraid he may have taken..."

"Taken over." Simba said.

"He wanted the crown more then anything," Mufasa speculated, gazing off in the distance.

It occured to Simba then.

"What if Scar had a hand in this?"

Mufasa's response was even-tempered but firm. "I can never assume such a thing, Simba."

"The hyenas." Simba moved on.

"If they'd have our family doing anything, it would be hunting for them..."

"You don't even know if they're alive?" His son croaked out.

Mufasa, who had clearly had more time to think this through, walked over to the water's edge.

"Come here, son." he whispered.

Simba hesistated; thinking his father was going to lash out at him.

The lion turned his head towards his son and the expression on his face had Simba approaching him. Mufasa placed an arm around Simba. "I never want you to feel afraid of me, Simba. What my father was like in the end is not the memory I wanted instilled in you." he looked down and his son did the same. Their reflections were nearly identical, only Simba was young and unsure.

"You do have my roguish good looks, however."

The cub smiled.

His dad patted the shoulder his paw was on.

He didn't say they were taking back their home, he didn't say whether he or Simba would be king in the end. There was no talk of epic battles, hidden plans or deep-rooted secrets. That didn't seem to matter to Mufasa and oddly enough, it didn't matter to Simba right then either.

To be continued...