Kings Don't Need Advice

A Grieving Mother, somewhere in her Memories:

Sarabi remembers when Simba was just a flutter under her skin. How Mufasa would lean his head to her soft belly and rest there, eyes closed. When her time neared her nipples wept and her belly felt too heavy to stand. Back then she didn't know, boy or girl, golden like Mufasa, fawn like her? Good, twisted, deformed, handsome. She did not know, but she loved it with her entire being anyway. This thing, which she had grown from Mufasa. Grown strong in her blood, grown its own little frail bones while inside her, grown its own little undeveloped paws and eyes and mind.

Sarabi remembers when Simba was just an extension of her. How her body eventually evicted him. The pain... how he landed – sliding, doubled over himself in the sack which he had grown from, her own veins from inside her laced around him. He didn't move. Still thinking that he was inside his mother's womb, still afloat in her. Too shocked to move? Didn't know how to move?

She licked him, scooped him in her paws and rasped over her tiny, tiny, beautiful cub until he stopped being slimy and tasting of iron, but instead, a coat, drying into a brilliant golden colour and little pink paws striking fitfully against her skin. Her son whimpered for the warmth and steady heartbeat of her womb. She buried him against her side and gently licked his tiny sealed eyes and his ears, yet to uncurl.

He did not eat at first. It was essential that her son learned to drink her milk before he was pushed to do anything else.. She had seen mothers who failed to do this; she had seen the trouble it caused their cubs. Mufasa was anxious to come into the dark, cool cave and see his cub for himself. Sarabi, however, was not ready to let anyone in to see her.

Back in her pride a lionesses would keep her cubs hidden for weeks after the birth, far away from anyone, especially the father. But the Pridelanders were different. They all wanted to see her cub as soon as it had fallen out of her womb, gawk at an easily hurt infant then throw a celebration the next day and have that hairy baboon hold him over a ledge. The cub was not ready for the outside world yet. At least when Sarabi was concerned.

In a way, her son was still inside a womb, a big dark cool womb with his mother, but still, he needed time to grow, a quiet place to finish his last developments. A safe place for his eyes to peal open, for his ears to unfurl and for him to learn how to hold his head up without toppling sideways.

One of the elder lionesses came into the cave, and Sarabi snarled at her to leave immediately.

"So sorry my Queen, of course, the King just wanted to know if you were hurt."

"You can tell the King that I am fine…" and with a mischievous glint to her eyes, she added "…and busy teaching his young daughter to suckle."

The old female hurried away with silent paw steps. Sarabi frowned as her son continued to refuse to drink.

"This is essential little cub," Sarabi told him softly. "It is very good for you, you need it to become a beautiful fat cub." Droplets dripped from her every time she stretched and moved, and eventually her little son got a taste. He was still confused as to how to get it, but was licking it off her skin with growing interest. When his little mouth eventually figured out how to suckle, an hour had past since his birth.

"Troublesome cub," Sarabi grumbled as she laid back and sighed. At least he was not like that one grey cub she had too many season ago... she never figured it out.

Her womb ached with childbirth and her lack of cubs was taking its toll, her teats were starting to glow red and sting constantly due to the pressure of all the milk stored behind them in anticipation for a hungry litter of cubs.

To her relief her son quickly filled his tiny stomach, drinking more milk than she thought possible, and he fell asleep quite immediately with his little wobbly head rested in her fur. Being born is tiring, Sarabi thought lovingly as she settled him in her paws. Mufasa told her that even though the royal seed produces one cub, that cub is strong and will drink more and grow more than the common lion.

She watches the future king. He is tiny now, blind and deaf, unaware of the world that exists outside his mother's warm skin and the cave's smooth floor. One silent tear wells up, but does not shed as she watchs him rock with each breath. This was the first time she had held a cub of hers and been truly, deeply happy. She wouldn't have to watch him starve to death because she was too weak to produce milk, she wouldn't have to watch him be slaughtered when the kings changed yet again, she wouldn't look at him and fear the shape of his nose or colour of his toes, be scared of her own child and who he could grow to resemble.

"Mufasa, you can come and see now," she called out warmly, the cave's stone walls echoing her words down the dark corridor. Almost instantly a massive lion came running into the cave. Though he was huge and rippling with muscles, his footsteps were silent and his every movement precise. He was silent as he studied his son with such content that it made Sarabi swell in pride.

"Unbelievable," Mufasa said with awe in his voice as he settled to lay beside his mate. Sarabi chuckled. She moved their cub so that Mufasa could see his son as the cub gave another soft toothless yawn.

"Sarabi! Don't do that, you're going to wake her up!" Mufasa hissed aghast at his mate. Even though they were close in age, Simba was Mufasa's first child. Sometimes Sarabi forgot that he did not know as much as her when it came to cubs.

"Oh relax Mufasa, not even a stampede could wake this child up." Sarabi leaned onto the broad shoulder of her mate as she viewed their beautiful cub. "And it is your son, not daughter. What made you assume that?"

Mufasa huffed, a silent chuckle bouncing in his body. He liked her little tricks.

Their adorable newborn stretched his pink paws out, touching one of Mufasa's paws lighter than a feather. The big lion reacted like he had been struck by lightning.

"He touched me!" Mufasa said, aghast, he looked between Sarabi and their cub rapidly, like he was wondering if he had somehow hurt the cub.

"Yes Mufasa, that tends to happen," she said with a laugh, too happy for her usual sarcasm.

"Simba," she said and Mufasa thought it was perfect.

She watched her little Simba live and take his first deep breaths. He was beautiful


A Grieving Mother, somewhere in Reality:

Sarabi ran light footed through the grass. Today was the day! This morning, any moment, her head was whipping back and forth from her feet to the sky, scanning for royal stewards on the wing. With an agile leap she flew out of the grass and landed on the waiting rock, slipping a little bit as her speed continued to pull her forward.

Technically she wasn't meant to be here, Scar had chosen Naanda to await the returning lions, and had allocated Sarabi to hunting in the south of the Pridelands. It was the furthest he could get possibly her from the precise spot she was current standing on.

"What're you doing here!" Naanda spluttered at her, angry that Sarabi had interrupted her sunbathing.

"I'm going to welcome the party," Sarabi said with a breathless smile, scanning the horizon as she talked. Where were they? Abdiel, one of the royal stewards, had flown ahead to meet them, and she envied the tiny wood-dove so badly right then.

"But I'm welcoming the party..." she paused as she realised, then a face of understanding slide onto her face."You're gonna get in trouble Sarabi." Naanda lashed her tail against the hot rock.

Scar had promoted Naanda high in his new pride order. because she was a grumpy lioness who did what needed to be done as efficiently as possible, but he was yet to learn one important thing about Naanda. She was a mischief maker, and a secret keeper through and through.

Sarabi thinks on Naanda's two cubs, Enma and Kalifa. They were horribly mischievous, one antisocial and the other yet to grasp how to talk to other cubs without offending them. Exactly like their mother. Sarabi was pretty sure that Naanda's mate had been one of the ones to leave in the party. Sarabi wondered why she wasn't more excited, though maybe sunbathing was how the lioness coped with nerves.

Sarabi violently pushed away any memories of Simba that the thoughts sparked. Convinced if she just refused to dwell, she could be alright. She had promised herself today would be a happy day. She wouldn't ruin the return with her bad mood. She pushed all thoughts of Mufasa from her mind too. Though her throat tightened so much she choked when she tried to swallow.

In the distance a lion roared. Sarabi extended her neck as far as she could in hopes of seeing them apart from the grass. As her job required, Naanda roared back. Her smoother roar echoed for a few moments before they replied, four... five, male voices calling back.

So they hadn't lost anyone. The whole pride had been prepared for a loss, and a smile grew uncontrollably on her face. Sarabi supposed the pride had suffered enough, and the supposed ancestors had seen fit to spare them. Beside her Naanda sighed in relief.

It was Naanda's job to stay on top of the waiting rock, but Sarabi was under no such restrictions. She jumped down and ran for the roars, sending a sorry look back to Naanda who stalked in tight circles upon the rock. They could still be a mile off, but with every step her excitement grew. The sound of their roars still trembling throughout her memory.

Sarabi ran for a small time, bounding over rocks and uneven ground, her sure feet changing periodically from shaking with excitement to stead as the stone she had once been named after.

When she cleared a fallen tree and perched on top of its old trunk, she could finally see them. Big manes bouncing as they trotted along, Abdiel the wood-dove escorting them along, flying in slow swinging loops. She cried out to them, and they stretched as they tried to look above the grass.

She tried to identify them all, but there was one she couldn't recognise for the life of her. And also she couldn't find Shalom, Sarafina's brother, his distinctive striped mane wasn't among them. Sarabi felt confused, and terrible scenarios started to multiple in her mind. Sarafina had two brothers go out west to the Lakelands along with her mate, and Sarabi could clearly see Nala's father at the front of the party, his orange eyes sweeping the grass like the cautious traveler that he was. Sarabi could also see the other surviving brother, looking like he was ten years older than when he had set out half a year ago.

At least there was that, at least those two were alive.

Sarabi leaped through the grass like an antelope, jumping high above the tall grass to see how close she was getting to them. She could pinpoint the moment they recognised who she was, because all their faces dropped.

They would have heard from the birds. When they left she had been a happy queen, beside the love of her life with a cub on the way. They returned to a Sarabi with a dead cub they never got to met and a crippled husband who never wakes from endless sleep.

When they finally met, the first thing to be said was – Oh Sarabi, I'm so sorry. It wasn't from one lion, it was from everyone, in different ways. Whether they actually said anything or just looked with those long faces.

"Thank you for the condolences," she inclined her head stiffly to the lion who had just finished detailing how he grieves for the struggling king...ex-king...prince? It was a matter which everyone struggled with. Sarabi resigned herself to the fact that this reunion would not be the turning point in her happiness, but instead a new wave of apologies and horrible discussions. It was even worse when they opened their mouths but close them again, or when they didn't close them fast enough and actually said some blundering apology about her cub. They had never met her cub.

And they never will.

"I see that Shalom is not with you," she observed, making a point to look in the eyes of the brother.

"He's paid his debts to the land," the brother, Sergeo, told her in a voice Sarabi had to strain to hear. She grew up surrounded by death, and when someone died the lions told it true, but with the Pridelanders they tended to be a lot more indirect, with their whole circle of life poetry. How would a Pridelander would go about saying that their young cub was dead, and their mate was brutally crippled, suspected for brain dead?

The land takes the young who owes nothing, and tries to claw its dues from the other?

Seeds and dirt cling to her tan coat. Her chest and legs are soaked so much in dew they shine silver. Sarabi comments on the returning lion's condition in turn... it was good to see you well, happy to see you fit, a bruised rib cage is nothing if not honourable. The pride is proud of you all and is eager to see you back home. She said nothing of the new King Scar, and they noticed.

Finally she turned to the new comer and narrowed her eyes at him. He was much younger than any of the lions of the party, and was staring at her with his jaw on the floor.

"Who are you?" He twitched in surprise, and stumbled upon his words a bit before gathering himself.

"My name is Kuu," he said, ducking his head in a quick bow. "I am a Lakelander, and I have traveled in hopes of joining your clan as an act of goodwill and thanks from my pride, in return for all the Pridelands have done for us." He paused and struggled with his next words, "it's an honour to meet the legendary Stone Heart."

Stone Heart. No one had called her that in a long time. It brought back memories of her guerrilla years, and for a brief moment she felt like she was covered in blood and plastered with mud all over again. She studied him and realised he reminded her of the Lakelands far too much. The typical muddy fawn, the thick muscles made for racing through sinking swamps. He even had the dark rings around his ears, not too many Lakelanders had that...

"Who are your parents?" She asked him.

"Ah, my mother was called Bilga, and, ah, my father was, ah," he dragged it on, looking pained as he tried to find the words to talk about his father. Sarabi realised with a shock how old he was.

"No need to explain," Sarabi said gently. All Lakeland lions of his generation had the same father. Which meant that he was currently talking to his father's killer, though Sarabi was sure he didn't resented her for that, far from it actually.

"If you're mother is the same Bilga I am thinking of, that means I'm your grandmother," he didn't seem too surprised at all, though the other lions did double takes. Sarabi realised why this lion had chosen to come

"Yeah, she told me that. And apparently one of her sisters lives out here as well."

Sarabi nodded, not sure how she felt about meeting another grandchild.

"Fly ahead and tell Naanda that Magnar and Zareh are well," she told the steward who had landed upon her shoulder. The wood dove silently bowed and flew away as Naanda's father and mate perked up at the mention of the lioness.

"Come, you must be tired," she turned and listened to the sounds of them following her through the grass. With the herds gone there was nothing to stop it from growing tall. It was lush and thick; many birds had already begun to weave their nests in it, quick to act on the new undisturbed delight.

Sarabi knew it would not last, the herds chased the rain, and with them gone it was only weeks until the Pridelands dried out. She looked over her shoulder to the powerful males that followed her. They were seasoned fighters and she was glad to have them back in the pride. They stood a good chance of bringing down some buffalo, or perhaps a hippo in the night time. It had been a while since the pride had feed well for nights on end.

On their way to Priderock, now with Naanda included who was happily walking between her father and mate, Sarabi trailed behind them all, inspecting them closer than she bothered originally.

Nala's father, Hodari, walked far ahead of the group. His steps bouncing with excitement to see his children for the first time, sending his large dark mane flying. He was the only lion who could match Mufasa in size, but despite his power he was a poor fighter. Nala resembled him in her defined face and powerful body, though she was vicious and competitive where her father was only patient. Nala's sister, Berta was more of her father, a quiet lionesses who saw more than anyone realised. Hodari was one of the best diplomats and peace talkers the pride had, and Mufasa had respected him greatly. They had been close friends, and Sarabi wondered how he would react to seeing what his past king had become. Several lionesses had advised her that it would be wise to let Mufasa's suffering end, Scar had counselled her that if he woke he would not be the same lion she had once loved. Sarabi wasn't sure if she could stand another person telling her to slice her mate's throat open.

Because she might just do it.

Sergeo was Sarafina's half-brother, younger than her by four years, he was litter mates with the lion who had died. They had been identical, slim, a very light cream colour from their toes through to the tips of their manes with startling bright orange eyes. Sergeo walked close behind Hodari, his eyes focused on the ground. Sarabi had thought she had lost enough loved ones to known what it was like to mourn, but truth be told she wasn't sure if she was actually at the mourning stage with Simba and Mufasa yet. Denial was where she was right now. She sat and talked to Mufasa as if he could still hear, and every night she went and searching the Pridelands endlessly for Simba. She told the birds to keep their eyes peeled, and they said they would, though their words were full of pity.

Magnar and Zareh where the last two, Magnar was visibly one of the oldest lions of the pride, his body was more scars then hair, and old age had made him hideous with marks and wrinkles. But his one good eye sparkled brightly as he listened to his daughter talk. He was a legendary fighter among the Pridelanders and even when she had been a part of the rebel lioness far out west in the ghost marshes, stories of his exploits had reached her, though he said when she asked that most tales were exaggerated beyond belief.

On the otherside of Naanda was her mate. He was similar to Scar in many ways, since they shared the same father. He had a golden coat and a mustardy mane, with an angular face on which kind green eyes peered from between dark lids. No one liked to talk about the relation, especially Scar, who despised any mention of his father.

Mufasa had explained it to her quietly one night, some rouge lion who preyed on lionesses when they went out hunting alone. He is the reason why all rouge lions are chased off the Pridelands, no questions asked. Though luckily for Sarabi the rule didn't apply to lionesses, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten to stay and meet Mufasa.

He was thin and shy looking and had the golden coat of a Pridelander, so the king had welcomed him happily without the usual suspicion held for the likes of cheetahs, jackals, or non-golden lions.

He had turned out to be a monster.

The lionesses who were attacked where very young, some so young that they hadn't even had their first bloods yet. They all thought themselves alone, and never spoke out because they were too ashamed and fearful. It was well known that the king though highly of the rouge lion, who had taken to helping in the buffalo hunts and had proved himself an excellent hunter. He could have one day become a part of the pride if he didn't make the mistake of raping the young princess.

Uru didn't have to fear exile or punishment, she was the princess, and she was a headstrong lioness. He hadn't left a mark on the other lionesses, but Uru was older than them, and one of the best fighters.

They say when she stumbled home, she was more blood than fur. There was no way she could have hidden the incident, not that such a thought had ever occurred to her. The whole pride was outraged, and when she was recovered Uru was at the forefront of tracing down the monster and tearing the golden stranger apart.

Two lionesses had cubs to the monster lion. Zareh's mother was one of them. She had three cubs. One was killed at a young age by a vengeful pride member. The other left to find a life elsewhere, rumour was she went into the Wastelands and died trying to cross the sands. Zareh remained in the Pridelands, too in love with Naanda to leave the pride.

The other lioness who grew with cub was the young princess Uru, who had only one child thanks to her royal blood. Scar hated his monster father so much he refused to recognise his half siblings, and the fear of the older pride members towards him made him angry and bitter.

Even though Scar was the oldest cub, Mufasa was born from love, and so was judged to be the rightful heir.

It wasn't his fault, but he pays the price. Everyone feared what he would become so much that he turned bitter. He went out on his own to escape, he disappeared for days and avoided the pride. Soon the only lion he spent time with was Mufasa, and then when he was passed over for his younger brother, that changed too.

She had cried when she heard of it. But Mufasa had told her not to pity him. What's done is done, I'm afraid. Our mother had ordered long ago that the cubs never be told, and no hate held, so maybe with the next generation he couldn't be judged... what hurts me the most, Sarabi, is that mother loved him, but he forgets that. How tormented must a lion be to forget his own mother's love?

Sarabi struggled to breathe, looking up in surprise she realised she had fallen behind and that her face was streaked with tears.

His failure to help Scar had been Mufasa's greatest regret. When she sat at the bottom of Priderock and watched Scar stand upon the king's ledge, she smiled. He used to shrink away from any lion who came near, but as King he stood proud, the winds rustled his black mane – his mother's colour – and a handful of steward birds flew up to him and bowed when they landed to report.

Scar had just finished greeting the party home, and was now standing upon the ledge looking over the kingdom thinking himself alone. A content smile was on his face, and for the first time he looked happy.

Suddenly he looked down and his eyes widened when he saw her watching him from the ground below. She smiled, and bowed her head in respect before moving off to climb the rock.

Perhaps in the end, Mufasa had managed to save his brother after all.

When she glanced back up at him, he looked like he was suffering from a heart attack. She chuckled.


The King, atop his Throne:

It was harder than Scar had thought to look Zareh in the eye. There had been a look of sadness on his face, like he wanted to say something (nice to finally talk to you? Glad to be acknowledged as a lion and not a particularly boring rock for the first time?) Scar had spent his life hating him, hell, he had spent his life hating all these lions. The old ones sometimes puffed up in offence a bit when they had to bow to him, but a majority were grown up enough and didn't care about what flowed in his veins. Royal blood, and a bit of monster, but that hardly mattered any more. He was Scar, the king's brother, the old queen's son, and though an angry recluse, he was now the rightful king...well, as far as they knew...

Scar growled to himself as he walked away from the pride. Those damn birds, how hard was it to find a lion cub? Simba couldn't have gone far and they were eagles for stars sake. They could spot a mouse among the grass while two miles up but struggled to find a cub among- what? Dust? There weren't any bloody lion cubs in the Wastelands, prince Simba would be sticking out like a hippo in a puddle.

Maybe the cub had doubled back in the Pridelands quicker than he suspected, but still, he had the hyenas on the prowl for him. So even if he was back, he would be dead before he made it anywhere near Priderock.

If they brought him to his feet, would he kill the poor child?

The adrenaline was gone, along with the mad need to be king. He was the rightful king, and if they couldn't see that, then he would just have to make it happen himself... which he did, in the end.

Deep in his heart Scar knew he was not capable of it. If he was, he would have ensnared the cub in his claws before he leapt into the Wastelands. But he hadn't. He had paused.

And Simba had gotten away.

Perhaps... perhaps I could make him my heir? Though birds have been arriving lately from other prides with suggestions of political marriage. My own lioness... little cubs... it was tempting. Maybe Simba could be a spare, like I was all my life? I did like the boy, however stupid he proved himself to be time and time again.

With a shock, Scar remembered that Simba knew the truth of what happened. No. He could not be allowed to ever step foot back on the Pridelands. Scar's Pridelands. Though Mufasa lived, he was a wakeless beast. Death was inevitable for his idealistic brother and his pathetic ways.

The face of his brother as he fell flashed over his eyes, and Scar felt his stomach turn inside out. He hadn't... he hadn't... been prepared for a look like that.

Heart breaking betrayal, shock, horror. He had imagined Mufasa to scream 'I knew it', or 'I was right to never trust you' just as Scar got his sweet deserts.

Scar looked down at his paws, a shame he refused to think on waving over him. As he did, his eyes met with a very familiar lioness.

Sarabi was sitting down in the subject area, where all the animals gathered to pay their respects. A few royals had come to swear their loyalty to him, the buffalo, elephant, hippo, hawks and parrots, even the crocodile lords had made their way to stand before him and pledge all their different pledges.

Sometimes he wished they just wouldn't, though that would offend them greatly. Today it had been the lazy snake lord and the old gazelle lady, now only a scarce few had yet to pledge to him. Zazu kept reminding him each morning... those stupid ostriches are yet to come, apparently they are busy deciding on their new lord and will send him as soon as possible, and of course, the gnu left early in respect of the circumstances. And also because the animals had been most uncivil towards them once news spread, jolly good I say. I believe that the gnu lord and his entourage still reside in the Pridelands and that they plan to pledge to you once feelings have settled down.

Were those his precise words? Scar had asked Zazu in amusement. If anything, Scar felt like the feelings between the gnu and the lions were only intensifying with time. They were up to something, and Scar had a queasy feeling that it would end badly for the dumb looking antelope. Scar was not only the commander of a well trained lion army, he also had alliances with some other particularly strong fighters. Shenzi and her clan where working closer and closer with him, and though the lions seemed put out when they saw the hyenas about, their hatred for the gnu distracted them.

It was all very fine as long as Shenzi kept her hyenas behaving as civil as they had so far.

Sarabi smiled up at him, bringing Scar back to reality, and as she bowed her head weightless rain started to fall. The noise the water made against the giant rocks rang in his ears, but in reality it was softer than cat feet. Mufasa's face and Simba's face and Mufasa's eyes and Simba's scream and Mufasa's roar as he raced past...

Sarabi's soft smile, as she bowed to him.

It was now burned onto his eyes for the rest of his life.

Scar tried to shrug the regret off him, knowing it futile to wish things different. He had spent his life wishing, but it never changed a thing. As the rain grew heavier Scar sharpened his claws on the ledge's smooth rock in an attempt to put himself together before retiring for a nap in his own personal cave. He despised sleeping with the pride, and besides, the small cave off to the side made it easier for the dark eagle-owl to fly in unnoticed during the night and wake him.

Scar told a lioness in passing that he would be out walking the Pridelands for the night, and left without anyone else noticing – or caring enough to notice.

Scar ran for a long time, thanking the stars for the fitness he had gained going out to the hyena's Shadowlands every night. His paws were silent against the grass and dirt, and when he leaped over tiny gullies the only sound he made was the scattering of one or two pebbles, and even then, he was long gone by the time they started to rattle down the rocks.

Scar could see the night animals long before they saw him, and he gave the quietly grazing beasts and foraging rodents a wide berth.

The meeting was being held in the same place as always, under the smoky mountain. It had bubbling hot springs and was covered in soothing, smelling mud. Half rotten pond plants grew around its swampy pools, making Scar scrunch his nose and growl to himself as he gently tried to walk through the swamp without wetting his paws.

The closer he got the louder the animals who had gathered became. Over the constant rumble and spew of the geysers and springs, crackles and bellows started to rise. Scar changed the way he walked to a more intimidating stalk, and held back the relief he felt when he saw a large group of hyenas sitting about the cave entrance. They crackled in greeting as he past, but Scar spared them nothing but a calculating green stare.

They were more loyal to him than the lionesses, this much he knew for sure, but he didn't want anyone here to suspect that he was closley involved with Shenzi's clan. They might feel threatened by that, which would be wise of them because he very much was spending his night dreaming of the day he would turn around and stab all the animals here in the back.

But he had to wait. His careful plans would all come undone if he started to act on emotions. A lesson he has learned after the gorge, a memory that makes him sicker with every passing day.

Trotting through a passage deep into the underground, Scar passed three of the largest buffalo bulls he had ever seen. They snorted and growled when they smelled him, but could not make him out from the shadows, and jumped in fright and bowed reluctantly when they recognised who he was.

Horns as thick as he was hung down at eye level, and Scar was loath to admit that they were more intimidating when they bowed than when they were growling. He felt like they were seconds away from charging and crushing him and all his bones against the rocks that towered behind him.

He knew what that felt like, and didn't want to suffer it again.

This must be his royal guard. Scar realised. A lot of the lords and chiefs of the prey species had royal guards to protect them, though why an animal as fat as him would need so many was beyond Scar. Any self respecting predator would cringe at the thought of eating him.

"Ah, King Scar, you took your time," said animal sneered when Scar entered the large cave. Scar opted for a glare and icy silence as he stalked towards the gathering. Though he was loath to do it, Scar did as he had done for months now; forcing a cunning smile full of teeth at the animals gathered about, he greeted them as they had instructed him to.

"Strong King, Mischief King, Queen of Horns," Scar said.

Unable to resist showing off, he jumped gracefully up to a higher ledge and lay down upon the heated stone. The Strong King frowned and Scar could tell a brutish taunt was forming in his head. He patiently waited for the thick animal to say what he needed to.

"Fake King," he laughed, earning him a glare from the Queen of Horns. He promptly feel quiet, and glared at his hooves. The Queen of Horns came up to the Strong King's gnarly knees, and it humoured Scar immensely to see the authority she had.

"Scar I'm impressed," she began, her quiet voice echoing around the cave. "Mufasa and Simba gone, and in such a tragic accident no less, you did well." She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her milky eyes, Scar sucked a breath in and prepared himself to dance once again around flattery and lies. Time to be as humble as a dung beetle, Scar told himself.

"But now you are King of the Pridelands, I find it hard to believe that the thought of betraying our deal has not crossed your mind. After all, we promised you the title of Lion King, and now you have found yourself ruler on your own cunning."

"It has not crossed my mind in the way that you assume, my lady, I think in big pictures and the big picture here is that the pride does not accept me, and that damn baboon never leaves Mufasa's side," Scar look a deep breath before he revealed the next part, "...despite every bone in his body being broken, Mufasa's health continues to improve."

The two kings and the one queen present gasped. The word was that Mufasa slept indefinitely for his wounds were too much, death inevitable. This was news to them, and he could tell they were displeased about such a critical truth being withheld.

Displeased their spies had not ratted out the truth, more like.

"What if we disposed of the baboon?" the Strong King suggested, but the Queen of Horns shook her tiny head as soon as it left his mouth.

"Too suspicious, as well as the fact that Rafiki is far too irreplaceable. I have my owls searching far and wide for another spirit talker, but far too many were hunted down back during the Great Suspicion. Poisoning the old king would be best," she frowns a daintily little frown before admitting, "my owls have told me of a spirit talker out in the Wastelands, a Kudu of some sort. But he has turned down all propositions by my owls. Still, he is nowhere near as talented as the old baboon, and he possess no rainbow face."

The Mighty Brute scoffed in distaste.

"Only the birth of a true king can cause a rainbow face to come into this world," the buffalo grunted,incredibly sour, and Scar had to work to keep all amusement from his face. "The old baboon was born alongside the true king, nearly forty years ago, and that wise woman who advises the Lord of Gnu, she was born near thirty years ago. She's on the way out, I tell you."

The exasperated look on the Queen of Horn's normally composed face was priceless.

"There is a rainbow face advising the gnu?" The Queen of Horns hissed. Her voice was venom and her guards had gotten to their feet when they noticed her anger. She must have been working her owl to the bones to find some far flung magic beast. To hear there was one hiding about in the Pridelands would be annoying.

The animals fight among themselves, Scar thought to himself with satisfaction.

Even though he had allied himself with these rebels - working towards the cause of the 'four rulers of the Pridelands', as they laughably called themselves – Scar couldn't wait till the day he tears them down after they had foolishly worked to build him up, all on promises of their own kingdoms. Like those fabled 'old ways' they keep referring too.

Sure there was the old ways, but it was chaos before the lions came, Scar growled in his own head, it's called the Pridelands for stars sake, as if I would ever carve it up for greedy beasts.

The two lords and the lady talked so easily of what they deserve. Their own lands, own watering holes, for the lions to protect them and only eat the naturally dead, for the herds to go somewhere else and stop eating their grass.

Scar peels his lips back in distaste whenever he thinks on their demands. He may not be a true king, or even a good king, but he can see the chaos that they will create. There is a natural order for a reason, a food chain for a reason, the herds have passed through the Pridelands since before time for a reason.

Scar looks at the rebels in turn. The mighty king, covered in mud from a good wallow. If size mattered the elephant would be king. The Mischeif king, silent and scratching at his fur in thought, if intelligence mattered, than the elephant would be king. Last he looked at the Queen of Horns.

If family mattered than the gods damned elephant would be king. Scar seethed inside and watched the rebels talk, every treason that passes their lips remembered and counted.

Guess what? The elephant is not the king, the elephant is one of the lions oldest and loyalist supporters. They do not ask for lordships, they do not ask for laws to be made to advantage them. The elephants go where they want and cared little for politics, but when the rains come and the cub is born, they march from across the continent, always on time, like they know before even the ancestors. And they would line up and touch the cub all over with their trunks and chant in those strange ancient voices.

The thought made Scar's eyes burn.

When he was newborn, no one came to his ceremony. No one, expect the elephants. His mother said that some of the oldest animals she had ever seen in her life came to bless him.

"How can we trust you, now that you have what you want, and we are no longer needed to give it to you?" The Mischief king asked, one of the few times he bothered to speak up. Scar sighed and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relax before relieving a brilliantly phrased piece that he had been rehearsing all day.

"Today the lions returned from their support mission out in the Lakelands," the Mischief king's smile widens revealing his sharp incisors, he knew, he just wanted to hear it again. In an indifferent drawl Scar says, "they are respectful and sorrowful towards me, but the despise the lionesses harbour will surely rub off on them quickly. I trust none of my pride and they in turn distrust me, if not then why on earth would I still be relying on hyenas as my soldiers? Sarabi, the queen, she mistrust me most and holds secret meetings. My thinking is that our alliance is far from compromised, I would say that it's strengthened with my new... tentative status." He was lying through his teeth. In fact Scar feared Sarabi was becoming one of his loyalist supporters.

"It is something," the Mighty King says, "now how can we use this to get in power?"

Scar's teeth grind. Disrespectful greedy beasts... he hopes Simba would take his father's words and ran as far as he could. Create a new life somewhere else. Hopefully safe across the sands.

"Was there a body?" The Queen of Horns asked out of nowhere. It takes Scar several moments to realise she is talking to him.

"A body?"

"Did you see Simba's body?"

The cave went quiet, and Scar realises this would make or break it. Whatever it was. Something important, he felt.

"No, there was not a body," he said.

The Queen raises her brows and exhales a sigh through her dainty nostrils.

"If he is alive, and he ever tries to return, I'm sure we can slander him with enough with rumours that no animals will trust him. I trust the strength of your herds would be enough to finish him?" The Queen asked the Mighty brute, who snorts and chuffs in superiority. "We don't want Scar sending any of the pride out to chase him away, they would recognise him. And if he comes back anywhere near as grown as Mufasa then hyenas would not suffice."

The mention of Mufasa sends chills down Scar's spine. He could feel the animals watching him from the corner of their eyes, wondering if he will object. Mufasa was a true lion, strong and fearsome. What is he? Bones and a nasty glare, not much else. Ever since they dragged him muddy and broken to lay at their feet and hear their plans, there has been no respect for him. A pawn.

Disrespectful greed bastards...

"Now about the gnu..."

His ribs still ached from when their henchmen had slammed him into the river bank so many seasons ago. He had limped for moons.

An apology would be nice. But he never got one.


Someone Strong and Loyal, in a Hidden Camp:

The world was darker than tar, and just as thick. Ever since the news of the stampede hit the lands the Solider hadn't slept. Wise woman urged her to sleep, but that was impossible.

Unless wise woman volunteered to stand guard in her place... but even if wise woman did, the Soldier wouldn't let her. Wise woman was quite old.

For as long as it took, she would do her job, and not a single complaint would pass her lips.

When wise woman visited early in the night to check on the baby, she had warned the Solider that today would be the final day. She told her to be on high alert (but the Solider has been on high alert for eight sunrises now).

She said that it was horrible timing, and the ballooning lady had agreed. The lord was making plans, and the court was to move at first light. The lady had gone to find her lord after that, and wherever she waddled the Solider goes too.

The Solider had never seen the Lord of Gnu up close before, a funny thing considering she had been the personal guard of his lady and unborn foal for months now. He was one of the most impressive gnu she had ever seen, a feat considering she only saw him once on a night with no moon to speak of.

They say to see his true splendid you need to look upon him as the sun rises across the grasses, when the night's fog steams away and your fur is wet with dew. They say his face was white, and his eyes shocking blue, with an orange mane and black strips on a lush dark purple coat.

In the dark he looked normal, but the Solider was a warrior and she knew. His muscles were thick, and his words struck as sure as she imagined his hooves did. The lady begged for time, but the lord said he had delayed enough. Every night, for days now, the wise women had said it was time for the birth, and nothing, every night. When will he see his child? She was so big and carried so low that everyone talked of a great, strong son.

The lady had held her head high, and seemed a wit away from spitting in her mate's face. The lord sighed heavily and gave up on the fight. He said he had advisers to meet, and ordered her to get rest before they began to move.

She spun on her hooves furiously, or as well as she could, considering she was almost a wide as she was long these day. The Soldier made to follow, but the lord asked her to stay a second.

Protect her. He had said.

With my life.

The wise woman was right to call on you. I had been against it in the beginning, I wasn't used to the idea of a cow guard, but you are strong and loyal as a bull - smart too - something I don't see often. I wanted to tell you, to make sure you have no doubts about it, that you have the most important job tonight, and of all the nights. Protect the calf. You are not a guard of the herd, or of the court, or of me or the lady, you are my child's guard. He is the future of the gnu. Wise woman sees my death in her dreams, and it is drawing close. When I am gone he will be the last gnu alive with the sun's blood. He must survive, otherwise life will become unbalanced. Do you understand?

The Solider was stunned. She thought that the power of sun's blood was simply legend, but here was the Lord of Gnu, pleading her to see his child out of the Pridelands alive.

I will protect the young lord with my life. She meant it, with all her heart. The Lord of Gnu had snuffled in approval, before he shifted his hooves and brought his head closer to hers, so she could hear his whispers.

If this meeting with the lion's goes as I expect it to go, than I would recommend going back to the old ways.

The... old ways? He couldn't possibly mean...

You will protect the young king with your life.

He left before she could form a sentence. She had thought the old ways were legend just like the sun's blood, and now the Lord of Gnu speaks true of it as well. The Solider don't know what shocked her more, the fact that the Lord – King now she supposed - expected to be dead by tomorrow, or that the bed time stories were true.

She never got to see him in first light, with dew drops between the fur, because by the time the sun rose he had been ripped apart by lions.

The night had been so hectic she couldn't remember much. But the Solider will always recall, with perfect clarity, how it had been absolutely silent before the roars and the bellows began, and how the lion king had roared fool and the true king had pulled himself to his full height before roaring back.

The gnu will not bow to the lion any more.

He died with ten lionesses ripping into him. But his knees remained locked, and his head held high, even though some young lionesses had bitten into his neck and was hanging from it, drenched red in the sun's blood.

The Solder had turned to the lady and whispered that it was time to go. She did not understand what the noises meant as well as the Solider, and was confused. She was not a warrior, her hearing was not tuned enough to catch the King's last law.

She was crying as the Solider lead her away and asking her hysterical questions. She wanted to go back, my mate, oh god my lord, what happened, what happened, tell me, tell me! It will be safer with the soldiers; we should go back for the soldiers.

The Solider remember her collapsing after a few miles of running. She had been complaining of pains, but she told her it was not safe yet. She had spread out on her side, and huffed and screaming. The Solider told her to be quiet. She cried and asked her to tell her the truth, was the lord dead? Were they going to die? What had happened?

The Lord disowned the King. The Solider told her. As she spoke she listened to the sounds of the grass around them with painful focus. A lion made hardly any noise when they passed through the grass, but she was trained to recognise the soft slicing sound of their passing. If they came while the lady laboured, she would have to fight them off, one, two, ten, twenty? The Solider would fight them, and she would kill them.

And the Lord declared with his dying breath that the gnu would not bow to the lion any more.

Oh god, what does that mean? What has he done?

It means your child is the King. And you are now a Queen.

She had laughed then, finding it funny. Only to gnu loony enough to abandon the lions, for what? A calf and a non-royal queen. Gnu were not known for their loyalty, they were known for they acute instinct for survival, at all costs. And survival lay with the lions.

Mufasa's queen was non-royal, but the animals love her, they follow her.

Ha! Look at you, comparing me to that lioness. She is beautiful and fearsome, she killed her way to the top where she came from, I've heard. Mufasa was the only lion brave enough to make a mate of her. What am I? A small grey gnu.

The blood of the birth started to smell strong, but the gods were on their side, because the wind blew it in the opposite direction of the lions.

The lady started huff loudly when the hooves emerged. The Solider told her to be quiet, and she snapped at her that she was giving fucking birth here.

The Solider told her, your mate has just committed mutiny against the Lion King. He has killed your mate, he has killed your soldiers, he has killed the generals and the advisers. He will be all too happy to kill you and your child, it will be the ultimate show of strength. The gnu was the most powerful force in the known world, but for him to say that he dissmantled the entire court in one night would scare even the bull headed buffalo into generations of servitude. There was a very real possibility that we were all that was left.

The animals followed Uru because she saved them from the drought, they followed Mufasa because he maintained a fair land, but Scar? His power comes from Sarabi and the intimidating force of Priderock. Now he had the massacre of the gnu. He has their fear. Soon animals will be racing to turn them in, fearful that if they did not Scar would treat them the same as he did the traitor gnus.

The calf slid out, and the lady groaned through clenched teeth. When she twisted to get a look at her child, she suddenly jerked and nearly kicked her own newborn. She was breathing heavy, and rapidly, her eyes were unfocused and it was like she didn't even realise the Soldier was there anymore. The child kicked itself out of its sack, and got himself to his knees. Just as he was easing himself up, the lady jerked again, and this time she did in fact kick her child.

My lady! The Solider whispered, before correcting herseld. My Queen?

The calf started to scream in panic, and the Soldier tried to lick his face to calm him down as she shielded him with her body in case his mother kicked out again. He used the Soldier's head to lean against as he tried to stand again. The lady bellowed even louder than before, and the Solider was half way through planning how to run with the child if the lions came, when another calf emerged and fell to the ground.

The Solider was shocked. She had never seen twins before. This time the lady did not twist to see her, she just lay down and cried.

Get up my lady, your children have to nurse. She shrugged the Solider off and told her to just leave her to die.

The Solider said that would mean her children would surely die. The Soldier did not think the Queen was actually dying, but when she got to her feet she realised just how fast blood was oozing from her. The second calf was already on its feet, and was nudging at the Solider just like its brother was.

No, no, you're mother is that one. She pushed them against their mother, and they quickly started to drink from her. She turned to look at them, and gasped at the sight.

She had turned to the Soldier and looked her dead in the eye.

"Save them."

"With every ounce of me, my Queen."

The cow weakly smiled, and then collapsed back into the grass covered in her own blood. Her calves screamed in surprise, and the Solider watched as their mother looked up at them with her last bit of strength.

"They'll be just like him one day, just as strong and handsome."

They were still sticky and dark with birth, but the Solider said nothing as the Queen finally died.

The Solider called to the calves, hoping they would follow her, but instead they lay down beside their mother in her blood. She put her head down and pushed them along, and they screaming at her, but she pushed them again and again, until soon they were trotting in front of her. Once their mother was out of sight, they clung to her sides like ticks, and she was happy for that.

The massive amounts of blood in the air would attract all the predators of the Pridelands, and there were a lot of hungry mouths out there now that the herds had moved on. Newborn calves were a favourite dish for many, and the Solider needed them far away and hidden as soon as possible. A cheetah had given them a sly look a mile into their journey, but the Soldier screamed at her so loud she jumped and sprinted away.

The cat hadn't expected the Solider to spot her hidden among the rocks, but the Soldier was good at her job.

At one point the calves started to try to suckle off their protector, but she told them she was not their mother.

When we catch up to the herds, there will be cows willing to nurse you.

They didn't understand her.

When the sun was sitting on the plains, and the sky was started to blend from black to red, the Solider chose to rest the newborns among some thick grass that grew in the shade of a leaning tree. The calves were tired and feel asleep underneath their protector.

The Solider stood over them, switching between watching for danger and licked the blood smells of them.

Late in the morning two hyenas passed by, but the newborns were hidden well by then, and all they saw was the Solider. The cow is tall and strong, and her horns are sharp and eyes keen.

"Lookie here, a survivor of last night!" One had teased across the distance.

The Solider stepped clear of the newborns before pawing at the ground and creating a cloud of dust around her. When they crackled and moved to come her way, she charged at them with her horns down. Even though the hyenas were half a league away, they scattered and started to run off.

"Feisty!"

"A little traumatised are we?"

They laughed as they ran off. The Solider made sure to draw herself to her full height and paw at the ground again. Only when they were specks did she turn her back on them and nudge the newborns awake.

They had to keep moving. The hyena knew where the Solider was now, and from what they said, they knew of what happened last night.

Interesting that Scar was sympathetic to the hyenas, considering how hateful his brother had been of the animals. The calves mewled for milk when they woke.

The Solider had taken to lightly hitting them when they were noisy. It was hard to do, but one day their lives will depend on them staying quiet. She had promised to their parents to kept they safe, no matter the cost.

The day was starting to heat up, and the Solider knew the calves were suffering. But she walked on, and when they started to slow she pushed them on. When that didn't work, she bite them.

She hid them under some thorn bushes, and let them sleep until night fell. The Solider had not slept in a long time, and sometimes when she stood guard over them she would blink and wake up with the sun slightly lower down in the sky.

She took to walking guard around and around the bushes after that. They needed to catch up to the herds as soon as possible, so that the calves could feed. But the more the Solider thought about it the more she realised it was impossible.

She needed another plan.

During dusk the buffalo started to wake up and head across the fields to the mud pools. The Solider woke the newborns, and trotted to meet the herd.

Buffalo were stubborn, but she hoped they would understand. However the idea of one of his cows nursing the newborns sent the bull into a frenzy, and the Solider was hard pressed to protect the newborns as he got more and more aggressive.

She tried to tell the calves to go back to the thorns, but they instead hid underneath her and between her legs. To the Solider's horror he charged them, and she was forced to flat her hooves and lock horns locked with him.

She felt the legendary strength of the buffalo that day, and it was a terrifying experience.

But the Solider did not buckle, she did not move.

As they pushed, a voice the Solider knew very well cried out.

"Stop now, young bull!" the voice shouted. The voice's owned raced up and shook her rainbow face. The beads that hung from her slight horns rattling together.

"She insulted my herd, spirit talker," the bull hissed, "she wants to attach her leeches to my cows! Take milk away from my calves for some filthy king killers." He was furious while his herd shuffled at a safe distance, the calves tucked in the centre as they eyed the Solider suspiciously.

When animals see rainbow faces, they don't see the species.

Rainbow faces are all species and now species, as much buffalo as they were bird or lion, or the gnu that the spirit talker resembled.

The Solider was shocked at how blind the young bull was to the fact he insulted the gnu, but couldn't recognise the rainbow face in front of him as a gnu herself. His herd started to murmur as things cooled down.

What sort of gnu can stand up to the bull?

A female gnu?

How did she?

A freak.

The Solider felt smug that this young bull would have to suffer a long process of proving his strength to his herd all over again after this.

"That's enough, I will take her away, move on now old bull," the rainbow face said.

The bull snorted and did so, every so often turning to glare back at the Solider. She ignored him and bent down to check on the calves.

"Wise woman I am so glad to see you," she said.

The wise woman ignored her, too busy starting at the calves.

"Which is the child?" she asked the Solider, her old eyes looking between them with growing sadness.

"Both," I could see in her eyes that she had figured that out, but wished not to believe it.

Something about them was not what she wanted.

"Both?" She studied them as they walked out to investigate her. When they tried to see if she had milk she kneed them away quickly. She seemed very embarrassed about being touched there. The Solider found that strange, there was nothing to be embarrassed about, and if anyone was to be ashamed it should be the Solider herself. She was the one who could not have calves.

"I need a cow to nurse them," the Solider told her. "They have had nothing except their mother's first milk during the night."

"Where is the Queen?"

"Dead, the birth was quick but traumatic."

The wise woman sighed and the Solider felt grief hit her for the first time since the birth. She had been too focused on listening to the grass and keeping the calves alive to let herself think much on the other cow's death.

She had been by Queen's side for months. She had been kind.

"These are both daughters," the wise woman stated.

"Yes?" That was obvious, why had she said it? Was it because everyone had been expecting a big son, not too smaller than usual daughters? The Solider suppose it was a rather drastic change.

"I had thought, oh no matter, but this changes everything. Girl, you have done well to protect the calves like you have. I thought for sure I was the only one to survive. There were so many lions, and so many hyenas too! The Pridelands crawled with them all night. I couldn't see the grass from the beasts. Scar had me spared under the condition that I become his spirit talker, pha! As if I would serve that tyrant. I ran away first chance I got, back then I had still believed..." she was drifting off in her thoughts. One of the calves tripped over and stumbled.

"The children need a cow-"

"No they don't, you need a plant."

"What?" That was not the response the Solider had expected.

"More specifically, a grass with purple leaves and white roots. It's the roots we need. I know some not too far from here, if we hurry you should have milk to feed them with by the next sunrise. I don't want them to wait any longer than that."

"Me? But I am barren."

"Doesn't mean some old herb magic can't trick your tits into doing their job for once," the wise woman chuckled to herself as she trotted away, her bony hips sticking out of old skin. The Solider followed quickly, and so did the newborns.

"Well the King and Queen had decided on Kweil for a name, but I think it inappropriate now that all my visions were so wrong."

"What do you mean wrong, our lord died tonight just as you predicted."

"Oh yes, that was right, sadly, but these other ones I've been having... I'm afraid I was misguided about them due to my own hopes. Now my hopes are gone, and so I see the message clear and proper now."

"The spirits said a true king was on the way. I had believed it was the new gnu son. All the signs pointed towards it. I lead the King to believe so too. I'm afraid this whole massacre is on my head."

"It could still be one of the children," did a true king have to be a boy? The Solider's head started to get dizzy as she thought about it. All the legends were true. Was magic true as well? The wise woman had just mentioned it, she said she could make her – her – produce milk. If that wasn't magic she didn't know what was.

"It is not... impossible," the wise woman said. "But it doesn't feel right to think of them like that. This coming true king feels male."

"Perhaps a very masculine queen?" The Solider offered.

Perhaps a female like me?

She looked down on the two calves and wondered which one could be this so called 'true king'.

"No no, it doesn't work like that. I talked to that baboon while I was prisoner; he sensed the same as me, though his interpretations were much clearer right from the beginning. We noticed different things during the meteor shower, and together I think we've made quite a solid discovery."

"What, a discovery? Of what?"

"We will take the daughters across the Wastelands, the true king is said to be from a mountain peak surrounded by jungle. Rafiki sensed warthog, I sensed meerkat. We're thinking he might be something in between."

"In between a warthog and a meerkat? What on earth could that be?"

"I'm working on it."