A/n: Suppose your grandparents died and you're going through a box of their heirlooms. Inside the box is a book of photos. You know who the people are, and you know what they're doing, but the photos are grainy and blurry. They may have meant something to the people on both sides of the camera, but they don't to you. The people are dead, and the history is too far removed from you. Far as you're concerned, they're meaningless.
That's what my first attempt at After the Roar was: a bunch of poorly written chapters that meant nothing to anyone—not even to me. There was no character development, no exploring the depths of Simba's heart and mind, precious little attention to the struggles in his life, and little reason for anyone to care. The end result was a bunch of events with no meaning or context, and it was painful to read (and even more painful to rewrite).
I know it looks bad to scrap a story and start over, but I don't care. As C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, "Progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. And if you have taken a wrong [turn], then to go forward does not get you any nearer. . . . There is nothing progressive about being pig-headed and refusing to admit a mistake." After the Roar was full of mistakes, and the only way to fix it is to start over.
This story was about Simba's ascent to power and restoration of the Pride Lands. Now, it's about Simba, which it should have been all along. He's giving us a glimpse into his heart and mind. He's acting less like a moron and more like a king. And for all who love a good romantic subplot, his relationship with Nala is strained from the get-go.
In other words, this story's making progress.
(At least, I hope so.)
Original a/n (1/17/2021): Back in October 2020, I left this site so I could focus on writing my own novels, hoping that by writing for my eyes only, I could get something done. It didn't work: I ended up psyching myself out and getting mentally constipated. After three months of trying to get unstuck, I thought I'd try posting a fic or two here, just to get the creative juices flowing again.
I take no credit for the magnificent world Disney created, just for the story I'm telling in it.
Chapter 1: King of Pride Rock
He didn't want to go out there.
He knew what was out there: a dusty land with a lot of bones. There was nothing to rule over, nothing to protect. Besides, every part of his body from shoulder to shank was still throbbing from his fight with Scar, and the argument with his pride last night ended on a bad note. If there was anything he wanted to do, it was sleep in and wait for the world to change.
But he knew it wouldn't. He was the steward of the Pride Lands. He was responsible for them, and he wouldn't change anything by lying around. And what did he know? Maybe everything had grown back. Now that he had taken his place in the Circle of Life, maybe everything else did, too.
He was the king, after all.
With his heart pounding and his breath trembling in dreadful anticipation, the King of Pride Rock lifted himself onto all fours. His eyes burned as he stepped through the mouth of the cavern, padding into the morning sun. As soon as he caught the smell of the dry air, his heart sank. He what he was about to see, and the most spectacular sunrise wouldn't make it any better.
But it was still his home. If he didn't do something about it, no one else would. And he wouldn't know what to do unless he stood on the edge of that rock and looked it in the face.
And with a quaky breath, the lion sat at the edge of Pride Rock and gazed out over his inheritance.
Everything the light touched was dusty and dead. There was no grass to see or smell, no water but puddles of rain. Bones dotted the land from border to border, and their curved shadows swept over the mounds. Every tree within a hundred paces of Pride Rock was charred and smoldering, and the rest lifted their arms to the sky as if they were praying for mercy. The smells of rain and smoke lingered in the air, strong enough to be tasted. All around, there was silence—no birds, no cicadas, no wind rushing down the wasteland—nothing. The Pride Lands were a cemetery, a dead land filled with dead animals' bones, and no royal order would bring them back to life.
Simba knew this was what he was in for—it was like this when he and the pride went to sleep—but seeing it in broad daylight broke his heart. It was bad enough that Scar took the throne from Mufasa and let the hyenas run loose, but the Pridelanders had lost all hope and gorged themselves on grass and water. Some of them had the sense to flee, but Scar wouldn't let them go, and he wouldn't let them go down without a fight. Their bones littered the border of the Pride Lands, a ghastly monument to the wrongful king.
And it was all wrong. None of this was supposed to have happened. Mufasa wasn't supposed to die the way he did, and Scar wasn't supposed to be king. He hated himself for letting this happen, and he hated Scar for getting away with it. Simba should have ripped him apart when he had the chance; maybe the earth would have been satisfied with a blood offering—anything to atone for the wrongful king's crimes.
But the King of Pride Rock knew what he had been taught. Everything had a way of caring for itself. And now that Scar was dead and the hyenas were gone, all he had to do was let it happen.
He was the king, after all.
"Here's the plan," he said over the pattering rain. "We'll send Zazu out first thing in the morning to look for the herds. As soon as he does, we'll leave Pride Rock."
"Simba, it's too dangerous," Nala said. "If something happened to him, we wouldn't know."
Zazu chuckled. "Madam, I don't need to remind you that I am a hornbill. I am perfectly capable of defending myself. Besides, my king needs me...and I daresay I'll be back before noon."
"He doesn't need you risking your life. We're leaving in the morning."
"Nala, I don't mean to be contrary...but this isn't your choice."
She knew he was right. Simba was the new guy, and his word was law.
"We don't know where the herds are," Simba said, "and we don't have a better way to find them. He's leaving in the morning."
Going against the wishes of his pride was no way he wanted to start his reign. No king had done that before, and no king would be that stupid. But common sense had to prevail. Zazu was the quickest way to find the herds. And if he got everyone to the herds in time, maybe they'd thank him one day.
Besides, Zazu was on his way out of the cavern.
The hornbill's nails were clicking on the thick stone, making Simba's ears swivel. The lion lifted his head over his shoulder, and the hornbill flared his wings and gave the King a deep bow, then stood at attention and awaited Simba's order.
The lion didn't have to think it over or say it aloud. He just nodded. And the hornbill spread his wings and leapt from the promontory, soaring into the morning sun.
And now I have to defend it to my pride, he thought. That'll go well...
He let out a mighty sigh and went up on all fours, and he turned around and padded down the promontory. As the cavern mouth slipped into focus, he saw Nala padding up to him, and all his muscles went tense with dread.
"Simba, why couldn't we talk about it more?"
He let out a scoff and shook his head. "We were up half the night, and we weren't getting anywhere."
"You couldn't even sleep on it? Simba, we're about to starve."
"A few hours won't make any difference."
A moue of disgust darkened her face. "So that's how it's going to be? You're just going to ignore everything we say?"
"Nala, we don't know who's out there. If we go the wrong way, we could die."
"If we stay here, we'll die, anyway."
"No, we won't. Zazu said he'll be back here by noon. If he's not, we'll look for them ourselves." With a huff, he slunk past her, ignoring the helpless look in her eyes.
"Simba, your father wouldn't have waited!"
A snarl burst out of his lungs, and he spun around and twisted his face in fury. "I'm alive. He's not."
She stared at him with her mouth hanging open, but no reply came. She gave him one last scowl, then slunk back to the cavern.
He knew he wouldn't be getting a nap in now. He wouldn't share the cavern with her, feeling her resentment oozing out of her. Besides, Zazu wouldn't be gone long, and as soon as he came back, he'd tell everyone where the herds were.
Simba started to walk back to the tip of the rock, and a twig broke below.
A lioness and her pride were slinking up to the rock, marching in perfect unison. They were muscular and well-fed, and the vibe they put out spelled one word: murder. They craned their heads up to the promontory, and they all went tense, as if they'd seen a ghost. Then the alpha's eyes narrowed, and a crooked smile wove up her face. "Why, Simba..."
With a snarl, he narrowed his eyes and charged down the promontory. Nala charged after him and said, "Simba, wait!" but he ignored her and burst into the cavern. The lionesses were stirring, Rafiki was pulling himself onto his feet, and Timon and Pumbaa were wiping the blear out of their eyes. But when Simba poked his head through the mouth and said—"We've got company!"—they scrambled to their feet and followed Simba into the daylight.
He dashed off the promontory and bounded down the huge rocks, mane whipping in the cool air. With every mighty leap, he lifted his head high, keeping the strangers in sight. As he jumped off the last rock, he landed in front of the alpha, his paws squishing in the dirt and mud, and his pride and his friends flanked him.
The alpha stared at him, taking in the sight of him, and she feigned a look of hurt. "Why, Simba, what is all the commotion? Is this any way to greet your Auntie Zira?"
Simba's mouth fell open. "You knew my uncle?"
"Oh, better than that, dearie. He was going to make me his queen."
Murmurs of shock and disgust filled the air, and Simba's face flashed with fury. "You were going to marry him? He was a murderer."
"Oh, Simba, how long are you going to listen to their lies? All he wanted was to make this place the envy of the world. He slaved over this land day and night, with precious little thanks from your subjects."
"That's not what happened."
"My dear nephew, I know exactly what happened. The hyenas told me everything. He begged you for mercy, and you threw him into a fire and you watched him die."
There's no getting through to her, he thought. "Zira, we don't want any trouble. Take your pride and get out."
A crooked smile wound its way up her face. "Don't worry, my dear nephew. We'll leave. But we'll be back. Scar left the Pride Lands to me in his will, to continue his glorious legacy. We will be painting a great and glorious picture...as soon as we get rid of you."
And she bolted at him with a roar.
Simba charged through the dirt and slammed into her, and the prides collided in a tawny wave. Pumbaa swung his head and dug his tusks into the belly of a lioness as Timon tugged on the warthog's ears like a pair of reins. Rafiki vaulted into the fray and swung his staff through the air; the tip whistled and gourds rattled, and a lioness crumpled to the ground. Zira rose up and aimed her claws at Timon and Pumbaa; the two screamed and started to run, and Rafiki hurtled his staff through the air. A loud SMACK filled the air, and Zira hit the dirt with a thump.
Simba swung around and saw Zira's pride backing away. When their eyes met his, they scrambled toward the charred trees. He threw back his head and roared, and he and his pride charged. Timon and Pumbaa galloped beside him with Rafiki standing on the warthog's back. Sun-baked bones and crumbling grass scrolled past them as Simba's muscles burned and his chest swelled to take in breath. The border of the Pride Lands scrolled beneath him, and he and the pride gave a mighty roar, sending Zira's pride down the ravine.
They filed over a fallen tree that crossed the ravine, and as soon as they lighted on the other side, they gathered and turned to look at Simba.
Wait, he thought as he glanced across the ravine. Where's Zira?
A creamy blur leapt upon and shoved him into the dirt. The world spun all around as he and Zira tumbled down the slope. He kicked her away, sending her rolling into the dust, and they went up on their back paws, swiping and lunging for the other's neck. He batted at her and knocked her to the ground, but she scrambled back onto all fours and lunged for him again. He lunged at her as her head twisted, and he closed his jaws with a clack.
Zira howled as she crumpled to the ground. He shoved a paw into her chest, pinning her into the dirt. She swung her ear into view, and he gave a start. Blood oozed out of a newly punctured hole in the edge, a hole gouged out by one of his fangs. She snarled and swiped at him, hoping to tear off his face, but her claws went through air. She realized it was no use, and she let out a sigh and let her head fall back into the dirt.
Simba turned his head and spat out a clump of hair and blood, then turned back and glared down at her. "Take your pride and get out. If you ever come back here...I'll kill you."
Everything went quiet around him. Zira's eyes widened in alarm, every hint of smugness gone. With a snarl, he lifted his paw and backed away, watching her as she rolled onto all fours. She scoffed at him and spat in the dirt, then turned around and slunk away. Simba watched her cross the river and lead her pride into the termite mounds, then turned around and started marching back to Pride Rock.
All around him, his entourage stared at him in silence. Timon had gone still, Pumbaa's eyes had gone wide, and whatever Rafiki was thinking had to be too bitter for words. And Nala was padding up to him, her dust-covered face dark with anger.
"Simba, you can't kill them," she said. "It's against the law."
He stopped in his tracks and glared at her out of the corner of his eye. "Not anymore."
She opened her mouth to say something, but he padded away and cut her off mid-word. Whatever she wanted to say, he wouldn't hear it. He was in no mood for a lecture or a reprimand, and he wouldn't hear how Mufasa would have handled it.
He did what he had to do.
He was the king, after all.
