His name was Taka, not Taka II, not Taka, JR; he was only Taka, named for who his father had once been. In nature, when a new male takes control of a pride, he destroys his predecessor's cubs and then mates with the females. So it was the same when Scar took the throne; aside from Zira, he bred with the alpha female of the pride, Sarabi. The son born to Zira was not heir material, but Zira would not be ready to bare another cub for another two years, but Sarabi was ready. Her son Taka was the result, whom she named for the Taka she had once known. As a cub, Scar was Taka, Mufasa's mischievous younger brother who looked up to and loved his older brother. It was the favoritism shown to Mufasa by their father Ahadi that drove hatred to grow inside Taka for his elder brother. Sarabi recalled all the mischief Mufasa, Taka, Sarafina, and she had gotten into, all the fun and fondness they had shared. No, Taka was dead, only Scar remained.

Sarafina looked down at the small, mahogany lump of fur nestled in Sarabi's arms. As it stirred, turning from its front to its side, she could see a small tuft of black fur on the cub's head, black spots marking its shoulders and hips. Sarabi lovingly caressed the tiny life with her rough pink tongue, nuzzling the cub as she had Simba.

"Sarabi," Sarafina ventured, "That is Scar's son."

"He is also my son," Sarabi replied, "and I love him as I would any cub of mine or Mufasa's. He is the only cub I've had besides Simba."

"What will you call him?" her friend asked.

"Taka," Sarabi smiled gently, "for the Scar I once knew."

Taka had his father's build and coloring though his coat was a solid mahogany save for the dark brown around his eyes. His eyes were the same emerald green as Scar's; personality-wise, he was just as Scar had been in childhood. Taka seemed a perfect combination of Scar and Mufasa, having his father's intelligence with his uncle's nobility and morale. Beneath Scar's scrawny hide was Mufasa's strength, in Taka. Two brothers, two worlds, one life and being.

Taka grew with the death of the Pridelands all around him, often talking to Zazu when his father was absent from the cave. He certainly had his father's old mischief and need to explore, so much like Mufasa and Simba. Often he wandered down to the gorge where Mufasa and supposedly Simba had been killed. He would sit for hours by the tree where the King had fallen, mourning the loss of one so loved. The lion's skeleton lay there still and Taka would lay with his head against it as though Mufasa were still flesh. Needless to say, none of it pleased Scar in the least; Taka was the only one with guts enough to say the name 'Mufasa' to Scar's face. Thus, Taka got knocked around by his father every now and again. Taka sensed that all the poor fortune and wasted lands were the fault of his father.

As the hyenas complained to Scar about the lack of food and the lionesses, Sarabi had gone to the cave in which Scar had slept in when Mufasa was alive. Silently, glancing over his shoulder constantly, Taka followed his mother.

"Taka," she whispered urgently, "Stay here."

"Sarabi!" Scar's voice rang out in the distance.

She glanced over her shoulder at the thin figure on Pride Rock in the distance, "Stay here, do not let anyone see you! I know not what Scar may do and I fear for your life should you be in sight!"

Before Taka could say a word, Sarabi left approaching Pride Rock her head held high in defiant pride and dignity.

"Yes, Scar?" she asked.

"Where is your hunting party?" he demanded.

Taka lay down, troubled and worried, wondering when and if things would ever be right, wondering what would happen. Eventually, he fell into a troubled sleep, his dreams haunted by the misery and wasted Pridelands. He was running through darkness, trying to escape the taunting hyenas and tyrannical Scar until he collapsed in exhaustion.

"Taka…" a cub's voice echoed in the darkness of his dreams, but deepened to that of a grown lion, the voice quiet and echoing, "Taka…"

He opened his eyes to see a glowing white shape of a great lion, becoming a golden lion as it grew clearer, with a reddish brown mane, his orange eyes gentle and assuring.

"Taka…" he said, standing over him.

"Mufasa…?" the adolescent lion whispered in question.

His kind eyes and proud head looking down upon him, a gentle comforting smile spreading, "Do not fret, do not fear. Simba is coming to the aid of our Lands, all will be well in time. Rest assured and do not let these troubled times haunt you. Take faith, it will all be over soon. Now wake and fear no more, the rains have come to heal the land," his face took on a look of sorrow and regret, "Scar's reign has ended, these times are no more…"

He faded from sight, Taka's eyes pleading," Please, don't leave me… Mufasa, uncle…"

Sarabi gently lowered her head to nuzzle her young son as he slept, willing Taka to wake.

"Taka," she said quietly, "Taka."

He woke to the soft, deep resonant voice of his mother, "Mom?"

"Come, Taka," she said as he stood, "Simba has returned. It's over."

The rain continued to pour down, feeding the rivers, reviving the Pridelands, as Sarabi led her son back to the den. The pride looked toward the two that had entered, Simba giving a start at the sight of Taka, emitting a low growl.

"Scar," he growled.

"Simba, listen to me," Sarabi said, coming to stand between her two sons, "He is not Scar, you can see that."

"I can also see that he looks like him," Simba remained in a fighting stance.

"Simba, he is my son and…" she began.

"Your son? Was Scar the father?"

"Yes, but he is also your brother."

"No son of Scar will be my brother nor is he welcome in the Pridelands."

"Simba…"

"No! My decision is made!"

"Simba," Taka came forward, "Please, I'm not like my father and I do not seek the throne, you are the rightful king!"

"I don't care. As King, I have made my decision: exile!"

"Brother…"

"Don't you dare call me 'brother'! You are hereby banished from the Pridelands."