HELL'S LOVELY
As a reminder, as I said last chapter- don't review me if you want me to review you. Doesn't work- I'm waaay too lazy to take the time to read everyone's fics. I'm just irresponsible that way XP
Speaking of responsibility however, get a load of it guys- I updated Hell's Lovely! It's been months... -cough-
—
Come daylight, cheer seemed to be once again spread about the Pridelands. Lionesses basked, others hunted, others played... the concept of "normal" seemed to be one again in the lands of the late Mufasa.
However, the dead king's son's thoughts were not those of breakfast choice or whom to play with that day... they were on the actions of his uncle the night before. Where had he been? Did he do this often, go out in the middle of the night and come back with such a snappy hang to him? What a wonder this was...
Perhaps he would go see Scar.
—
The way to his uncle's abode was not a hard or complicated one, simply a venture to the rear of Pride Rock. Reaching the home of Scar, Simba tentatively rounded a final corner to be in immediate eyesight of Scar were he looking Simba's way. However, the darkened lion's optics were not tinted to Simba's direction... his entire form faced the opposite way. Shallow breaths told Simba that Scar was asleep. Well, nothing suspicious so far... it was early day, not to mention Scar slept most of the day, so that was normal...
But why did he sleep all day? As far as Simba knew, it wasn't quite possible to sleep THAT much in the life of Scar... so he must be almost nocturnal? What an odd thought that was...
Now the golden one became frightened. What would his uncle's reaction be if he were to awaken during Simba's examination? Would Simba be punished? Was it worth the risk?
Of course it was.
Scar could be up to something very dangerous... it was more important he protect his life than his reputation, right?
So he crept silently toward Scar, trembling slightly and eyes large with fear. Reaching Scar and rounding him to face his front, Simba sat upon haunches in order to begin observation. Yes, indeed, the scarred one was asleep.
As he watched the shallow breaths of his uncle, Simba couldn't help but give a laugh. The way Scar slept was so contrary to the way he acted when awake... For while he was asleep he had paws daintily crossed not far from his face, his form lay gently across the rock... None of him looked in the slightest bit frightening or menacing. The scarred one's young nephew almost wished he could see his uncle like this during his waking hours! Shaking his head playfully, though, he dismissed the thought.
What to do now? There was nothing to glimpse whilst Scar was asleep... but if he woke him, there was that chance that he could be punished. The young lion knew that if his father knew he had awoken Scar, he would not be pleased... for Mufasa had taught Simba how rude it was to wake another. However, he thought, this could be important! Besides, no one but Scar would know... and with Mufasa dead, he'd have no one to tell but Sarabi. And Simba new Scar would not scold Simba to Sarabi's face... He wasn't sure why, but Scar seemed to have a sort of respect for Sarabi and wish not to bother her... Simba now felt that he could get away with anything when around Scar, for his uncle would not tell Sarabi.
Deciding upon this approach, he crept to the backside of uncle Scar once more. Very gently, he placed one paw upon the dark form, and soon another. Associatively, his whole body was soon on top of Scar's. Lowering to a sit and then further down so that he did not support himself with his legs, he pulled himself along Scar's body. When he reached the top of his mane, almost to the darker lion's face, he paused. Pulling his paws about Scar's ear, he lowered his mouth and nipped at his uncle for several seconds. When this did not wake him, he nipped harder and eventually chewed. Simba knew from experience that this technique would always work.
Sure enough, after a time Scar awoke. When he found his nephew to be chewing at him, he lowly growled and less-than-gently threw Simba off. Simba landed with a small splat and gently complained at his uncle's antics.
"What did you do that for?" asked Simba, furrowing his eyebrows mock-angrily.
After Scar had shook his mane several times and ascended his paws, he replied. "You were..." he paused, in an almost pathetic way, "biting me."
Simba only laughed. "So what? I do it all the time!"
"Simba..." Scar's voice was cross now. "Times have changed, and I'm sure you of all people are one to notice that."
The younger lion greeted this with a nod. "Yeah," he said, "and?"
"And," Scar mocked, "you are to treat me with more respect than you would've under Mufasa's reign!"
"Why?" asked Simba, "you're not the King."
"Well neither are you!" snapped Scar, "neither of us is. We do not have a King, Simba, and that is a problem. Thusly, you are to treat me with respect because, since I am older, I naturally am of more importance."
Simba lowered to sit upon his haunches and frowned. "But I'm heir to the throne, so shouldn't I be higher than you?"
Scar stuttered a bit before replying, "No," he shifted his weight and continued, "You are not fit to be King, and thusly you are not. You have sank in position since Mufasa's fall and I have risen. I have spoken to Sarabi since Mufasa's death, and she agrees."
And with that, off walked Scar- and he still appeared to be limping.
Not pleased, Simba bounded after his uncle. "Uncle Scar, why are you limping?"
Scar only sighed and rolled his eyes, before wincing slightly in apparent pain. "Never you mind," he finally said, slumping from his lair.
Lowering to his paws, Simba paused and pouted slightly. That was just swell. Not only had the cub not been able to pry any information from his uncle, but he had managed to be disheartened and insulted in the process. Oh yeah- pure genius.
—
Later that day, Simba found himself casually strolling through the kingdom that would one day be his own. He'd spent plenty of time wondering- about Scar's whereabouts, and about what his mother would say if he asked to play with Nala- and plenty of time despairing- about his father's death and his own recent demotion. And after a while this had all gotten entirely boring. So for the past few minutes he'd lowered himself to doing nothing but strolling in an entirely aimless fashion.
Raising his gaze to the heavens, he observed their darkening features and decided to head back to his family's cave-like dwelling. Once there, he turned a glance to his mother, who sat in a corner looking miserable. Understanding, he sighed and, fidgeting uncomfortably, made his way to the opposite corner of the dwelling from Sarabi. His mother was dealing. Dealing with Mufasa's death, and dealing with her fear regarding the future of the pride.
Simba didn't want to deal. He didn't want to despair, or worry, or think about his father's recent descent at all. The young cub was taking a break from dealing. So he uncomfortably pulled himself as close to the wall as he could, facing said wall and closing his eyes. Sighing in boredom and frustration, he surrendered to a sleepless night and began to wait for the next morning to come.