c13 :Sins of the King * Prologue * The sky, a bruised purple, wept torrents. Rain lashed down, doing little to quell the fires that licked greedily at the parched grasslands of the Pride Lands. The air, thick with the stench of smoke and damp earth, vibrated with the relentless rumble of thunder – a symphony of chaos mirroring the battle raging across the plains. Scar had led his pride and the hyenas in a final, desperate stand against Simba and the remnants of the rightful pride.
Simba, a roaring whirlwind of golden fur and righteous fury, met the onslaught head-on. He was a lion reborn, the years of exile having forged him into a warrior. But the fight was brutal, a maelstrom of claws, teeth, and guttural roars. Lions grappled with lions, hyenas swarmed like shadows, snapping at limbs and flanks. Simba felt the sharp sting of a hyena's teeth on his shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He swiped with a paw, sending the creature flying, but another was already lunging, its jaws agape. He felt a hot searing pain across his leg as he kicked this one off. He was weakening, the relentless onslaught taking its toll.
Amidst the chaos, Scar, his mane a ragged, charcoal halo around his hollow eyes, stood apart. His gaze, strangely, wasn't fixed on the bloody melee. It was locked on Nala. She was a force of nature herself, a whirlwind of ivory and muscle, her movements precise, deadly. The way she fought reminded him of… himself.
He watched her, a jumbled mess of emotions churning within his chest. He had never acknowledged her, had kept her existence a secret, even from himself. His daughter. The thought echoed in his skull, a discordant note in the cacophony of battle. The only part of Sarafina, of her, that had survived his cruelty. He didn't want her hurt. Not like this.
He had always acted the part of the ruthless king, the cold-blooded tyrant, but beneath the mask, a knot of self-loathing had always resided. The thirst for power had been a poison, twisting his heart. He'd dreamt of a kingdom of his own, not one built on scorched earth. And his actions, he knew, had led to this… to his own demise. Today, he realised, could well be his last. And he couldn't let his legacy die with him. He knew that he was incapable of loving anyone. But perhaps he could still create progeny.
He moved, a dark shape gliding through the chaos, and intercepted Nala as she fought off a hyena. "Nala!" he barked, his voice gruff, betraying none of the turmoil within.
She turned, startled, her aquaeyes blazing with a fighter's fire. "Scar! You coward! You hide in the shadows while your pride fights for its life?"
His eyes narrowed, a mask of cold indifference slipping into place. He couldn't let her see the truth, the fragile, desperate creature he truly was. "I am merely strategizing, my dear," he snarled, circling her. "And you… you are a prize I have yet to claim."
Nala's lip curled into a snarl. "I am no one's prize, Scar. I will end you myself!"
He lunged, an elegant, deceptively fast attack. But he pulled his punches, his claws barely grazing her shoulder. He wanted her to feel the fight, the struggle, but not the pain.
They circled, a dance of predator and prey, Scar's movements precise, deliberate, but lacking the ferocity he usually possessed. Nala, fueled by her rage and an instinct she couldn't explain, fought fiercely, her attacks becoming more and more powerful. She was strong, powerful, everything he had ever hoped for, even if it was unintentional. She reminded him so much of her mother.
He saw an opening and made his move; he didn't want to harm her, but he needed to try. He leapt on top of her, his body pressing down on hers, as he tried to bite the back of her neck. She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to mate her. Rage, hot and searing, roared through her veins. This was what he really wanted. He didn't care if the pride lands burned. He only cared about himself. She shifted position and slammed into his side with such force, a growl of pain escaping his lips as he was thrown off her.
With a feral roar, she pounced, her claws raking his flank. He stumbled, the pain sharp and intense, a taste of his own medicine. He was tired. He had given up. And now, his own daughter would end him.
Nala pressed her advantage, fueled by a fury she couldn't name. She was a storm, a whirlwind of teeth and claws. She was fighting for her life, for her pride, for all those who suffered under Scar's cruel reign. Scar, now on his back, felt her paws pin him, the weight of her body a crushing burden as her claws sunk deeper into his belly.
Blood oozed from both of them, slicking the ground beneath them. The rain washed it away, but the image of his blood mixing with hers would forever be seared into his memory. They were both teetering on the precipice of death.
And then, something shifted. Scar's breathing hitched, and a low, guttural sound escaped his throat, a sound unlike anything Nala had ever heard from him. It wasn't a growl, not a snarl. It was a sob.
Tears, mixed with the rain, streamed down his face. This wasn't the regal façade he always projected, but a raw, naked display of despair. "I… I never meant… to…," he rasped, his voice choked with emotion. "You've grown so much , Nala" He stared up at Nala, his eyes mirroring the pain in his broken heart as he managed a smile . He was a mess of regret and despair, a creature caught in the web of his own making. "Please," he now sobbed, " Just…" Unable to finish , choking on his own feeble words.
Scar's gaze softened unexpectedly, and tears gushed out his eyes. His voice cracked as he whispered, "Kill me, Nala. End this. I've caused so much pain. I… I never wanted to become this. This isn't the king I dreamed of being."
He had given up. He wanted to die, and he wanted his daughter, his own biological child, to end his miserable life. He didn't want to live a day longer. All these long years of darkness. He was tired of the pain. He was tired of this life.
Nala stared at him, her own heart pounding in her chest. The anger, the pure, white-hot fury that had propelled her faded, replaced by confusion, uncertainty, and something else, something akin to pity. The arrogant, cruel Scar she had known was gone, replaced by this broken, weeping creature. This couldn't be the same Scar who killed Mufasa, the same Scar who ruined the pride lands.
She saw the truth in his eyes; the desperation, the regret that clawed at him. He was genuine. His intentions, twisted and misguided, had stemmed from a place of pain, of loneliness, and perhaps, she realised with chilling clarity, a desperate need for love and acceptance he never felt.
Her grip on him loosened, her claws retracting. The storm raged above them, the thunder rumbling like the beating of a broken heart. The fires still burned. The rain continued to fall. But in that moment, Nala saw past the monster, and saw the broken father that had never been given an opportunity to be loved.
Taka..
Nala, for the first time, felt true profound empathy, even for the lion that had scarred her life. And for the first time, she truly mourned.
She stood in the shadowed depths of the cave, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and the metallic tang of grief. Taka, her…father, was there, his usually sharp, calculating features softened by a pain that mirrored her own. She had learned the truth only moments ago, a revelation delivered in hushed whispers and tear-stained confessions. Takahad not been the villain, not truly. His actions, his perceived treachery, had all been a twisted attempt to protect her, to secure the pride's future in a world he saw as increasingly hostile. He loved her, she realised with a painful clarity, a love as complex and flawed as the man himself.
Nala had just begun to understand, to reconcile the image of the monster with the father she was inexplicably drawn to, when Simba burst into the cave. He was a whirlwind of righteous anger, his mane bristling, his eyes blazing with furious possessiveness. He saw only the villain he had always known, the usurper who had stolen his birthright. He roared, a sound that shook the very foundations of the cave, and slammed into Nala, throwing her aside with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs.
"Get away from him, Nala!" he bellowed, hatred twisting his features. He didn't see the tears in Taka's eyes, the way he had reached out to hold her just moments before. He saw only the enemy, and for Simba, the enemy deserved nothing but destruction.
Before Nala could even cry out, Simba had pounced on Scar, his claws ripping savagely, his jaw clamping down with merciless force. He tore at Scar's throat, a guttural, horrific sound echoing through the cave, leaving only a ragged gasp of life. Scar tried to speak, to push out the truth that had finally surfaced, the truth that could have set them all free. But the words caught in his torn throat, lost to the rain and thunder. Before he could form even a single syllable, Simba's claws tore into his abdomen, spilling his life onto the cold stone floor. Scar's body spasmed once, then went still, his final, unanswered plea for absolution hanging heavy in the air.
A scream tore from Nala's throat, a sound laced with agony and disbelief. "FATHER!" she shrieked, the word raw and broken. She scrambled to her feet, fury eclipsing her grief. Blindly, fuelled by the sudden, brutal loss of the man she now knew to be her father, she launched herself at Simba. All she saw was the murderer, the one who had done this, the one who had robbed her of the chance to truly know him. Her claws ripped across Simba's throat, a mirroring image of the horror he had just inflicted. The blow was brutal, fuelled by a rage she hadn't known she possessed. It was followed by a sickening thud as her paw connected with the side of his head, sending his mangled body sprawling against the cave wall.
She staggered back, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the crimson of Simba's blood a horrifying contrast to the grey stone. The weight of her actions crashed down upon her, a tidal wave of horror and regret. What had she done? She had attacked Simba, the future king , the lion she had always believed was her protector. The realization was a cold blade twisting in her heart.
Simba, his strength already weakened from his own injuries sustained from the hyena attack earlier, lay still, a shallow rasp of breath the only sign he was alive. His eyes, though hazy with pain and nearing unconsciousness, flickered open. The rain washed across the cave entrance, illuminating the carnage, and Simba's gaze found Nala's. He saw the raw anguish on her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks. He saw the horror of what she had done, and he knew, with a clarity that cut through his pain, she had not meant it. She was hurting, grieving, and he, in his rage, had been the cause.
As the storm of hurt raged within Nala, a chilling sound rose from the cave mouth. The low, guttural snarl that was the signature of the hyena pack. Forty hyenas, or more, were charging into the cave. Drawn by the scent of blood, and the promise of a feast, the pack was swarming towards Scar's carcass, their eyes gleaming with a feral madness that sent shivers down her spine.
Despite the pounding in his head, the taste of blood in his mouth and the agonizing pain searing through his throat, Simba, through the fog of his pain, saw the danger. His voice, a mere whisper, rasped across the cave, a broken plea laced with his concern, "Run, Nala… Run…"
His words, weak as they were, were imbued with all his love for her. Even now, after her brutal attack, he wanted nothing more than for her to be safe.