My Lion King Forum

So I decided to post this fic I've been working on. It's been ongoing on FFn since... well, the last February 29th that we had. That's right, back in 2012. It's now over two years later and it's my most popular fanfic story to date by far, with a hundred faves and counting. Since some of the people here don't seem to be on FFn, I decided to share it with everyone on MLK. Some of you I know are already readers, but those of you who have never seen this before will hopefully get some enjoyment out of it. It's quite a bit of reading now, with almost 200,000 words and nearly 50 chapters, but don't worry, I'll try and upload slowly.

For those that don't know, the premise is this: what if Simba died in the stampede, and not Mufasa? Well, as it happens, where the fic turns after that may just surprise you.

That said, if you want to see a trailer for this fanfic, made by one of my Fanfiction readers, then click here.

Lastly, keep in mind that earlier chapters do not reflect my current writing style, as I was 13 then. They get significantly better as they go on. (I may make minor edits to this MLK version of the story to make it a bit better, but as a whole the first parts simply will not be as good as later).

Anyways, without further ado, here is the first part:

Chapter 1 - Long Live the King

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"Long live the king…"

It was only a sentence, and rather a small one at that, but for Scar—oh, it was so much more than that. The dark lion laid coolly across the rocky edge of the gorge, his hated older brother hanging precariously in his clutches, over the dark swarm of panicked wildebeests, watching his face contort with fear as he uttered those words.

He won't make it out alive, Scar mused, looking at the ragtag band of sweaty, terrified gnu which had acted as living bulldozers, trampling everything that dared to come into their paths. It wasn't malice that would cause them to trample their king, only flighty and uncontrolled instincts. Every animal had them, after all. Especially prey animals. Scar felt the need to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to do; for the murder he was about to commit. It wasn't hard. In fact, it was harder for him to keep the giddy tone out of his voice. He felt like a small child getting just what he wanted. Finally. It had taken long enough as it was.

But Mufasa was stupid. He couldn't have seen this coming a million miles away. The dark lion indifferently flicked his tail. After all these years, Scar had thought he'd made himself clear. He wanted the throne. And yet it was all too easy to get his thick brother to the precipitous point of falling, both literally and figuratively, out of power. And yet the soon-to-be-murderer waited, listening for something. There was more than one piece to this puzzle. Because, of course, Mufasa had a son.

That was when he heard the scream.

"Dad! Dad! Help me! Please!"

The cub. He was still alive, fighting his way through the bands of sharp hooves and kicking, crazed animals. He wouldn't last long; not on his own. Scar watched as the son of his enemy zigzagged across the gorge, trying to scrabble up the edge of the cliff and take shelter behind rocks and trees, failing miserably each and every time.

"No, Scar. Don't do this. You have to let me save him. You have to let me save my son."

He could actually hear a pleading tone in his brother's voice, which was odd. Normally, if someone had something he wanted, he just beat the crap out of them. It was easy for him, with those thick, rippling muscles and solid form. But when he looked at his brother, he could almost see an expression he had seen a million times before. The hysterical countenance of a helpless prey animal, when it knew that it was about to lose its life.

For some strange reason, it had the opposite effect on Scar. It provoked something deep in his blood; a side of him that wanted to kill and maim and torture for his revenge. Sweet payback. The captor lion threw his head up, only a sadistic laugh answering his brother's desperate pleas. He almost couldn't control himself, nearly beginning to roll around with an undoubtedly sick, but pleasurable, feeling of joy coursing through his lithe body. He would watch his brother suffer. And enjoy every moment of it.

And so he held him there, the claws he had so painstakingly sharpened day after day serving perfectly to pin Mufasa, a lion easily twice as big, in place as the chaos in the gorge reached its rather bloody climax.

"Dad, they're getting closer!"

Mufasa watched with horror as his little son tried to escape the inevitable. Finally it seemed to have worked, the cub's small body being kicked halfway across the gorge by a particularly frightened wildebeest.

It's about time, Scar thought pessimistically. Once the cub was dead, he could throw in Mufasa and be done with all of them for good. The train of wildebeest streaming down the gorge was long, but it wasn't endless. Mufasa might survive an ordinary fall from this height, and if he dropped him now, he would no doubt go to save his son. In either case, one of them would probably live. Battered and bruised, yes, but dead, no. And dead was what Scar wanted. There were less loose ends that way.

He almost threw up his paws then and there, but something golden flickered out of the corner of his eye, causing him to turn and look with a certain air of curiosity.

"Dad, dad! Help!"

Curses. The stupid cub wasn't dead yet.

"Simba, I'll save you! I'm coming!" The older lion yelled desperately as he gazed upon his struggling son, trying in a frenzied panic to free his sweat-caked paws. Simba had seconds, perhaps a minute, to live at this rate. And Scar knew it.

"Temper, temper," Scar started with a gentle tsk of his tongue, his voice dangerously calm, "why don't you just stay here and watch the show, hmm, brother? I believe we are getting to the good part."

"No, little brother, please. Don't do this. You're not a murderer."

Scar turned his head away from him indifferently, lazily scratching a particularly itchy spot on his neck with his clawed hind foot. Just waiting for his chance to toss his brother away from his presence.

"And how do you know I'm not, Mufasa?"

The older lion looked disgusted at his brother's indifference.

"My son, YOUR NEPHEW, is down there. Just think of what could happen. Just think of what you're doing. You're murdering an innocent…" Mufasa continued, his voice slowly being lathered into a rage. That's what Scar had been waiting for. The self-righteous, arrogant rage that always hid under his brother's seemingly benevolent presence. Oh, of course none of his subjects saw it, only ever seeing the polished, happy, false image of him on those rare occasions when the whole kingdom had to gather below Pride Rock. And of course he usually kept his cool around the lionesses, trying to impress them with how strong and awesome he was. But that never fooled Scar, who sat patiently, bearing the brunt of his brother's outraged and somewhat repetitive discourse.

"…LET ME GO! SIMBA! SIMBA! I WILL SAVE YOU! SCAR, LET ME G—"

"DAD! HELP ME! I CAN'T RUN MUCH LONGE—"

That was it. A slight snap and the screaming stopped. Scar looked into the gorge, distantly checking to make sure the cub was dead. He was. Unless, of course, he could miraculously survive after his neck had been crushed like a twig by the full force of a half-ton wildebeest.

The dark younger lion took a final look down at Mufasa before he threw him off, smirking as he contemplated his brother, whose emotions were obviously in a matted, fiery tangle. Sad. Outraged. And, most of all, appalled. Once more, he began to struggle, trying to loosen Scar's grip.

If he freed himself from Scar's grasp and found his way onto the ledge, then he would be in a world of hurt. After all, he had just killed his only son. But he wouldn't let him get that far. It was over. Time to murder the father.

"Ahhhh, brother. I'd love to keep chatting, but I've got a kingdom to rule. Your kingdom. And so now I bid you… adieu."

And there it was. The moment he'd been waiting for all his life. He felt his brother's paws fall away from his as he flung him across the air, splaying his toes and sheathing his claws to allow Mufasa to slip out from under him. No part of him felt guilty or sympathetic as the hated being gradually plummeted into seeming oblivion, clawing at the air, looking for a safe refuge that didn't exist as he tumbled backwards into the gorge, looking up at Scar with sad, broken eyes as he descended towards death.

But there was a problem. The large herd of wildebeests had, like his worst fears had predicted, approached its end more quickly than he thought. Scar looked out across the herd of animals, then back, all the way to the end of the gorge. He could just spot the handful of quick wildebeests at the front of the stampede, who were a long ways down the canyon and were already beginning to slow down.

No. NO. NO!

The herd is supposed to be larger than that! Why isn't it? Where are the other animals?

Scar began to panic, his usual cool composure and relaxed, indifferent attitude being assaulted upon by the tendrils of a thick, distracting aura of alarm. Mufasa could not live.

And yet, there they were. The wildebeests. Running up at the lip of the cliff like total imbeciles. Instead of joining the bandwagon like they should have, when the wildebeests had run off the grassy plain that they had started from and down into the ravine, they had run off to either side of it. The sound of thundering hooves was now apparent above Scar and across the other side of the chasm as more and more of them streamed by.

He had chosen the largest herd in the area for the very event the day before, but now a significant portion of it wasn't even in the same place as Mufasa was. And that portion, Scar could now see with dismay, would probably end up being the difference between Mufasa's life and Mufasa's death.

In the end, the lion fell all the way to the ground, a sickening thud reverberating throughout the gulch as he impacted with the dusty ground. Perhaps he had broken a few bones, but there didn't appear to be any serious injury to his brother's body. A somewhat sharp cry was heard, and a few moans and groans followed, but he wasn't subsequently destroyed and mowed over by the wildebeests like he should have been. In fact, only about ten or so of the animals actually reached Mufasa's injured figure, most of them nimble enough to dodge their fallen king.

Scar watched in sweaty, heart-pounding horror as his plan flopped over on its face. His scraggly form quickly hid behind a rock, trying to get out of view of his brother, who was already rolling over on the ground in an attempt to get to his feet.

Oh god, Scar thought, visibly quavering in fear, he's going to kill me. And… what if the lionesses find out? I'm dead. Irreversibly, irreparably dead.

For several moments he was paralyzed with fear as Mufasa tiredly got to his feet, half-walking and half-crawling over towards his son. The lion looked at the cub's chest, searching for the rising and falling of breathing as he listened for a heartbeat.

No sign of either. He unsheathed his claws, and Scar watched in terror as he began batting the ground angrily and with all of the strength he possessed. Which was a lot. The dark lion again crawled behind a jagged-edged boulder.

I'm next.

Mufasa roared, effectively terrorizing his hidden brother, who keeled over from the ear-splitting noise, trying desperately to cover his ears, crawling blindly away from the din. Eventually Mufasa stopped, slumping over onto his side weakly, still somewhat injured from the fall. He held his son's small form in his paw, talking to it as—wait, what? Was Mufasa… crying?

It was then that Scar relapsed into his usual pragmatic sense of logic. Every problem had a solution, whether he wanted to face it or not. And if he didn't have the guts to kill a sniveling, injured, crying lion, then he truly was a coward. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to actually, literally get Mufasa's blood on his paws—despite his somewhat violent nature, he hated having to fight himself, preferring to do everything sneakily and with wit.

But, Scar thought as he unsheathed his claws once more, every problem does have a solution. I just have to kill him myself. That throne will only be mine after my brother's death.

Slowly, and trying to stay out of Mufasa's field of view, he crept down the steep side of the ravine and towards the center of the ravine which hung in between the walls. Closer and closer…

"Brother, I know you're there. If you want that throne, just… go ahead and kill me. You've already taken my son," Mufasa sobbed dramatically.

"Oh, of course. Whatever makes you happy, Mufasa."

Scar's tail flickered with malicious arrogance. His brother was going to let him kill him. If that wasn't just the most adorable thing he'd ever heard, the dark lion sneered to himself. He brought up his paw, prepared to bring it down on his brother, who sat still, ready to take the blow as his head hung in shame.

"Oh no! King Mufasa, Scar, what's wrong with Simba? He isn't moving!"

A creamy lioness cub appeared from somewhere across the gorge, the two lions, in unison, being scared witless.

"Uh, nothing Nala," Mufasa started, voice cracking slightly.

"Yes, yes, just nothing. He's sleeping. We two adults here are trying to have a conversation," Scar continued with a deep growl directed at Mufasa. Since Nala, who was Simba's best friend at the time, was still quite young and gullible, she hardly asked any questions. She must have just arrived at the scene, not seeing Simba get trampled to death or getting killed herself.

But that was, of course, a problem. He couldn't kill Mufasa now; not with the cub. And while he could physically kill the cub with ease, he knew immediately that it wasn't a good idea. Her mother, Sarafina, would no doubt be following close behind to find her. No one just let cubs that young wander into a dangerous gorge by themselves. Taking a quick sniff of the air, he confirmed his worst suspicions. He was too late. If he killed Mufasa now, there would be witnesses, and being known as a murderer would not get him the throne. In fact, it would only get him his throat ripped out by an angry lioness.

Run.

That was the only thought that filled Scar's mind now. Mufasa would tell them what had happened, of course, and then the whole pride would be hot on his trail. He could find refuge in the elephant graveyard, with the hyenas. He knew them personally, though he doubted they would be happy with him. But none of that mattered now. Looking at Mufasa, then back at Nala, he turned tail and ran, without another word, out of the chasm, an angry chorus of roars sounding behind him.

Mufasa still lives.

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I know, it seems kind of cliche, but blame 13-year-old-me, I promise it does get better. As for right now, I'm off to work on Chapter 48 for my FFn audience. I'll soon come back with Chapter 2, but in the meantime, feel free to leave a comment below. I'd really appreciate it.

Decided I'm going to post Chapter 2 as well over here. :3 Again, feel free to comment if you'd like. Nobody here has done it yet, but frankly that doesn't bug me since this site has a tiny fanfic section and Chapter 1 certainly is not the best chapter, IMO, so there's probably not a lot to say anyways (... plus I've already gotten hundreds of reviews on this story by this point, so... *shrug* I know what I did well and what I didn't do so well with).

But if you liked it, feel free to keep reading! Here is the second chapter.

Chapter 2 - The Godmother

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"Whoa whoa whoa, wait, wait… what? You failed?"

"It sounds worse than it really is, I can assure you."

The matriarch of the hyenas sat there with an irritated expression on her face, carelessly flicking away the bone she had been chewing on for the past five minutes, the white, polished clean surface glinting dully in the shadowed darkness as it landed on the floor with a hollow cli-click, further adding to the trashy, unkempt appearance of the cave. Silence.

Scar shuffled his feet idly; somewhat nervous as she sat there quietly, staring at him with a rather disconcerting calmness. It almost appeared as though she was trying to make him burst into flames just by looking at him, the simple explain-everything-to-me-now-or-else look telling the older lion that he had better comply. Immediately. Because Shenzi was angry, and when Shenzi was angry, she got her way.

"I got rid of the cub."

The kingpin of what was essentially a hyena mafia snapped her fingers, an annoyed grimace crossing her face. Instantly, two hyenas appeared on the scene, seeming to come from nowhere; or perhaps somewhere behind a tunnel bore into the rock. Each was holding a thick, bloody shank of meat. Fresh meat. Scar salivated inwardly, eyes now attached hopefully to the dripping, blood-coated flesh. The two hyenas respectfully placed both slabs of food onto the small boulder which lay in between Scar and the matriarch. The lion's stomach seemed to twist into a knot and he cringed in hunger, though he tried to keep an indifferent expression on his face in the presence of the hyenas. Maybe convincing them that he was strong and confident would help his case, whereupon they could easily devise another plan to destroy his brother and make him king.

"The cub? What good does that do us?"

A male hyena quickly responded, tail twitching irritably as he stood next to the matriarch, who was obviously not amused.

"Banzai's right. You know he'll just make more of those things, don't ya? We're talking about the royal couple here; they need an heir. Give it a year and you'll be stuck back at square one."

"And with nothing left to give us! …right, Shenzi?"

"Exactly! Very good."

The kingpin smiled with a false, sarcastic enthusiasm; delicately, Shenzi picked up one of the shanks of meat, idly dangling it from in between her fingers before dropping it to her side, letting Banzai ravenously dig into it, before picking up the other and starting into it herself. The lion's eyes narrowed slightly, not taking very well to the idea of being made sport of.

"Just don't you forget who you're working for…"

"Or who we were working for!" Banzai sneered in between a mouthful of food, instantly bursting out into a pang of mean-spirited laughter which found him tightly clutching his stomach as he rolled breathlessly around on the floor.

"Wait… what?"

"You heard him, din't ya, Scar?"

No, not them, too... Scar panicked quietly. The hyenas were supposed to be there to help him. Now what would he do without them? For once, he was rash enough to act quickly on his first impulse.

"No, ingrates, you can't do this to me. I won't let you."

Scar bared his teeth threateningly at the matriarch, perhaps not the best move for someone who wasn't even king yet. Or for anyone, in that case, though Scar hadn't quite thought his response through. Before he could blink, four hyenas had materialized—seemingly from nowhere—and had him pinned helplessly on his back. He growled reflexively and out of surprise, but couldn't do much, only being able to see the high, rocky ceiling of the cave and the hyenas who were glaring down at him calmly.

"Oh, Scar. Always the same thing with you. Now, we can do this one of two ways," the young female started, grinning ruefully at him despite the fact he couldn't see her, "…we can put ya down where you lie, or you can be a good boy and we can talk this over. Whaddya say?"

"…Fine…"

"Let 'im up."

At the bidding of their leader, the four new hyenas got off of him without a sound, standing by and surrounding him stoically. Scar tried not to show the fear that was steadily growing within him; staring at the hyenas who had now surrounded him, however, was not helping very much. Their tough, soldier-like figures were ready to kill him if Shenzi demanded it, yet in the meantime they were crowding around him closely enough to resemble bodyguards.

"Give me another chance… just one. I will do better."

He almost couldn't believe he was pleading like this. It was pathetic—almost as much as his brother's begging had been—and the hyenas, as usual, were unmoved. Banzai glared at him, now finished with the shank of meat that Shenzi had given him and visibly contemplating what to do with the bones that were left over.

"And why should we, huh?" he stated curtly, unable to suppress the sharp edge of arrogance that cut into his voice.

"Hush, Banzai," the matriarch began, shooting an angry glance at her companion before continuing, "…oh, Scar. You told us of the stampede, which seemed like a fool-proof plan. What's ta say ya won't fail another time, especially now that you're on the run? I doubt Mufasa will fall for anything now that he knows his brother is out to kill 'im."

But he said he wanted me to kill him, Scar thought in despair, though he said nothing in consideration of what would happen to him if he interrupted. Besides, they seemed pretty certain of their choice, anyways. He would have to find someone else to help him; the hyenas clearly weren't going to cooperate at this point.

"Speaking of promises," Shenzi continued, examining her claws idly.

Oh dear.

"I do believe, Scar, that ya had a few things of… value… to us that you promised for our help. Could you remind me what they were, please? I seem ta have forgotten…"

Scar visibly cringed, something in her voice telling him that he was being threatened, even if she didn't explicitly say so. She hadn't really forgotten, of course; the hyenas would never forget their dues. I have gotten myself into something now… Scar thought impatiently, realizing he had more or less painted himself into a corner. He hadn't really thought about what he'd promised the hyenas before, and had more or less disregarded it, having proceeded with the arrogant confidence that he would succeed in killing both his brother and nephew, and would be able to pay them back. That turned out well. He'd taken a wild gamble, and was now stuck with the bill; a price he was unprepared to pay.

"Uh…" he started, chuckling nervously as he tried to remember exactly what it was. Before, of course, the true direness of the situation came to him.

…'Stick with me, and you'll never go hungry again!'

'YEAH!' 'All right!' 'Long live the king!' 'Long live the king! Long live the king…!'

…I'm screwed…

"Now look, Scar. We hyenas are reasonable…"

Liars.

"… and we understand ya won't be able ta grant us access to the Pridelands," the matriarch continued softly, an expression of sympathy—obviously fake, but attempted nonetheless—written across her face before she continued, a little bit more impatiently, "but you still owe this family… what was it, Banzai? Oh yes," she said quickly, face dropping and resuming all of its brutish seriousness, "meat. For all of us."

"Whoa, hold on. I said that I'd give it to you once I became king."

Scar was somewhat desperate at this point: where on earth was he going to get all that? There was no way…

"No, no, no… you said, 'stick with me, and you'll never go hungry again'. We stuck with you, and offered our support. You were the one who failed. So, where's our share?"

Shenzi only smiled lightly, chuckling at Banzai's impudence as he interrupted for the fifth time.

"Ah, Banzai. Ya catch on quick, don'tcha?"

"I'm afraid I can't deliver. I don't know where I'm going to get all th—"

"—where ya get it is none of my concern. Just pay up and we'll get along fine…" she sighed hopelessly, almost nostalgically, "…look, Scar, I like ya. A lot. So I'm gonna give ya a whole week to make the delivery."

A week! What? How do they expect me to—?

"Of course," Banzai piped up, snapping Scar out of his thoughts, "we accept extra favors. Gifts can't possibly hurt."

"And what happens if I don't pay?"

Scar hardly even bothered to ask; he knew it couldn't be anything good and that he wouldn't have much choice in the matter. But he found the words slipping out of his mouth before he could even catch them, and braced himself for the reply.

"Oh, nothing, dear. Nothing at all. But we won't worry 'bout that, now, will we? 'Cause you'll be a good old lion and give us what you owe, right?"

Her words may have seemed harmless, though Scar caught a faint glint of threatening foreshadowing in her eyes, and he could tell she was lying, a fact she hardly bothered to conceal. It was enough to instill a thick, hopeless feeling of dread, even in him. The hyena subsequently drew her claws across the boulder, sharpening them into dagger-like points as the screech of her nails on the rock echoed terrifyingly throughout the cave. It was a clear warning. Pay us, or else.

"Y-Yes, I will."

"Good. I knew we'd see eye to eye," Shenzi continued dully, her attention now consumed in studying the bone that was left over from the slab of meat, which she had stripped clean. After several silent moments, she flung it carelessly onto the ground.

Cli-click.

"Now get out."

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"SARABI!"

Mufasa roared in anguish, voice booming out through the cavernous gorge as he called to his mate. Simba's own mother, and his queen... Oh no, Mufasa thought in a panic, I'm partially responsible for this. I could have stopped it. I could ha—

"King Mufasa? How is Simba still asleep?" Nala pointed out timidly, her small, trembling body creeping closer to him, "I don't understand. I always wake up when people yell at me."

Nala sat quietly in the gorge, looking at Mufasa with little more than innocent curiosity, but he didn't bother to answer. How could she know what death was, even when she'd lost her one true friend? The one she was betrothed to? Mufasa knew she had been going to be queen with Simba, but she had had no idea. And what of that now? He couldn't even imagine having another cub, having to teach it everything… all over again. Going to show this new cub the kingdom; sitting on top of Pride Rock and explaining its destiny. The one that was going to be Simba's.

It wouldn't be the same. But he was obligated to. The whole kingdom would need him to provide the future king of the land. And it wouldn't be Simba… not anymore.

"SARABI!"

He roared again, waiting for the lioness to appear in the gorge. Just how sad and angry would she be at the preventable loss of her son? He hadn't even considered going to find her, his grieved mind working too slowly to realize that she probably didn't hear him. All he knew was that he didn't want to leave the little cub that he was now cuddling desperately in his arms, as if trying to get him to wake up, though the cub's now cold, limp form made no signs of coming back to life. He was wasting his time hugging a dead body, but didn't really think about it too closely.

'Dad… we'll always be pals, right?'

That was what Simba had said only days before. I never would have thought he'd die first, Mufasa reflected sadly, his own mind torturing him with rapid flashbacks of him and Simba. Simba waking him up. Simba being shown the kingdom. Simba being saved from the hyenas. Simba and Nala playing. Simba being lifted up by Rafiki, his frail, golden body being presented to the kingdom.

But that one of him under the stars stuck out to him the most. Why?

And then it hit him.

'Dad… we will always be friends, won't we?'

'Yes, of course, Muffy. But let me tell you and Taka something which my father told me…"

Simba was murdered. By my own brother…

Mufasa sat up now, head hung in shame as a tear found its way down his cheek and into Simba's cool fur. He wasn't sure exactly what he was ashamed of. Probably the fact that the royal family now contained a murderer. A murderer of innocent cubs. Nephews, even. The golden lion now realized the fact that, despite his efforts throughout their years together, Scar had never fully understood or recognized family ties. All those years he had looked after his younger brother as though he was a son, and all it had gotten him in return was his attempted murder and a trampled heir.

He couldn't understand. The older lion had thought they were close, and that everything was perfectly well in between them. Scar's use of dark, foreshadowing sarcasm had only come across as a joke… until now, when Mufasa realized just how dangerously unreasonable his little brother's mindset really had become.

Scar can't be allowed back into the Pridelands… It's for the good of the pride.

He couldn't let more innocent cubs die; more blood would not be spilled over the crown. And, of course, Mufasa knew his own life and title was in considerable danger. The pride would know the truth of Simba's murder, and if that meant they had to hunt Scar down… then so be it.

He had to make sure his brother would never return… whatever it took.

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So I kind of made the hyenas more menacing in this story. At this point when I was originally writing it, I hadn't intended much to come of them as a group, but as it turns out, the pack contributes a lot to this story as a whole. :3 Just so you know. I didn't really plan things out when I started because I didn't expect it to go that long. Px (I mentioned I was 13 at the time, right? ... Exactly...)

Comment if you liked it! I'll probably follow up with Chapter 3 on Friday. Until then, adieu. :s

Went on your FFn to read the rest. I think you did really good!