Authors Note: (I've always got'm)
Here's what you get when you cross watching the lion king with an active imagination. What would've happened…if Mufasa wasn't really dead?
"Dad…come on…we've gotta go home." The small Simba placed his paws on his fathers face. The cruel reality had hit him…that his father wasn't coming home. His father wasn't going to get up. He fought against himself, trying to deny it all, and telling himself that if he tried harder, the King would get up.
He turned and ran a few feet away, desperately crying into the dusty valley "Help! Please…somebody! Help me…" But he only heard his echo cry back to him, and turned to look back at his father with tears streaming down his face. He slowly padded over to him, pushing himself under his Dad's paw and cuddling up to him, finally admitting to himself that there was no hope for his father.
"Simba…what've you done?" He hadn't been lying there minutes before his Uncles voice startled him. He jumped up and turned around, looking back to his father and again to his Uncle.
"It was an accident…I-I didn't mean for it to happen…" She let tears stream steadily down his cheeks again. His Uncle showed a look of compassion, and pulled Simba close to him, slowly stroking his back.
"Of course…of course you didn't…no one ever means for these things to happen…" He lied through his teeth before looking down sadly at his Nephew, and receiving a look of indescribable sadness in return as he spoke the truth: "But the king..is dead…If it weren't for you, he'd still be alive."
Simba stared up at him unbelievingly; feeling guilty for a few moments before thinking about everything that had happened, then he buried his face into his Uncles paws and began to sob again.
They both heard a muffled grunt, and Scar looked up at his brother, whose paw was braced on the ground as he tried to push himself up. His eyes widened as he stared in awe at a miracle. Simba turned, standing in shock for a few seconds before smiling from ear to ear and running to his Dad.
"Dad! You're alive…oh, Dad!" He cheered happily. Mufasa didn't smile at him, but merely looked at his son through a few strands of his mane that had fallen in front of his eyes. His eyes narrowed as he looked to Scar, who was now standing with an expression of shock, anger, and disbelieving hatred.
"No…it can't be." Scar whispered under his breath.
"Surprise, Brother." Mufasa growled, again grunting under his breath as he got to his feet. "You tried…to kill me." He was still weak.
Scar let out a roar and leapt at the lion that'd defied odds and lived through such a horrid fall. His claws dug into his Brothers shoulders as he pinned him to the ground, snarling menacingly. Mufasa merely winced, to weak to push off the lion on top of him.
"It's my turn to be king!" Scar snarled and lunged for his brother's neck. His teeth grabbed hold firmly, but the thick mane got in the way, so he bit down harder to slice through it. All this while Mufasa was quickly suffocating.
Suddenly, Scar reared up, roaring angrily and swinging his head as Simba sunk his small, sharp teeth and claws into his muzzle and face. The older lion slashed at the cub, knocking him into the ground. Scar ran up to him, raising a paw over the crumpled cub's body, ready to kill him first.
Simba heard another, louder roar and looked up to see Scar flying backwards, the side of his face slashed several times. Mufasa stood weakly over his son, eyes narrowed and ears laid back as he snarled loudly…so much so that it frightened Simba.
"Don't go near my son." He roared at Scar, who was now trying to push himself to his feet. With some effort, Mufasa lunged at him, knocking him back to the ground. His jaws closed on the back of Scars, and he flung him to the side.
There was a loud roar, and then silence as Scar landed on the already fallen tree. His body was pinned up against the trunk, the branch crushing him in between the two. His eyes were shut from what was once pain, and his upper body hung loose over the ground, his hips lying on the ground at a grotesque angle.
Mufasa looked over to Simba, who looked in horror at his Uncles body. The father slowly walked over to his son, carrying him off, away from the spot where the vultures had already begun to circle. He'd take him back to the Pride Lands, where no one would ask about Scar, and instead be worried about his own health. He was a living miracle, and it was all thanks to his son.