Chapter Text
"What do you want?"
He heard him before he saw him, swiveling his head to the right and away from where he had been toying with a mouse between his claws.
It had at first shrieked and could then only freeze up in fear, heart rate rising in a painfully slow and cold fashion.
Scar merely held it there, finding in fact that life was not fair.
"The King requests your presence," Zazu declared, the same smug ego permeating each word. "And he would be rather alarmed were I not to return soon."
He could not help but chuckle at that, noting at last the smell of fear surrounding the hornbill and his impeccably kept feathers. "You have no need to fear Zazu," Scar drawled in a voice neither threatening nor reassuring. "If I'd wanted you for lunch, I would have had you by now."
For good measure, he flashed his teeth at the royal advisor with a light growl.
Zazu gulped, "R-right," then he cleared his throat and did his best to recompose himself, "of course. As I said the King has requested your presence and will be expecting you shortly."
"Oh how demanding of Mufasa," Scar said rather dramatically. "What could possibly warrant that I waste his time and he waste mine?"
"Not that you should be questioning such a request..." Zazu began suddenly sounding somewhat unsure of himself. "However if you must know it is related to the incident from earlier today."
"The one where my dear nephew was nearly crushed in a stampede? Hmm yes," he hummed, "that boy really should see to it that he watches where he goes. I still fail to see how this concerns me in anyway however."
"It concerns you because you were the only one who saw it happen," Zazu retorted, now trying to sound more authoritative. "Mufasa wants to hear your account of what transpired."
Scar’s eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and irritation. "Does he now? Well, far be it from me to refuse a royal summons," he said with a mocking bow. "Lead the way, Zazu. Let’s not keep the king waiting."
As they made their way through the Pride Lands, Scar couldn't help but reflect on the day's events. He had orchestrated the stampede with such precision, yet here he was, being called to account for it. The irony was almost delicious.
At first he had been angry, at himself, at those damned wildebeest for not being the force of nature he had bid on to kill his brother and the cub. Slowly that anger had simmered away and he had simply gone back to who he always was.
Scar.
Scar who plotted and schemed.
Scar who had no care for his words which went up given that his thoughts remained below.
Scar who in his mind was the rightful king.
Zazu flew just ahead, stealing glances back at Scar to ensure he was following. "You know," the hornbill said cautiously, "it wouldn't hurt to show a bit more respect to the king. After all, he is your brother."
He almost thought he heard some uncharacteristic softness in Zazu's tone before replying. "Respect is earned, Zazu," Scar continued smoothly, "not given. And my brother and I... we have a complicated history. You know this."
Zazu’s wings twitched, and he sped up slightly, as if wanting to put more distance between himself and Scar. They were getting closer to Pride Rock, the imposing structure now clearly visible against the sky. Scar felt a familiar pang of resentment mixed with a twisted sense of satisfaction. This was his home, his rightful place, and yet he was summoned like a common subject.
The lionesses and other animals they passed on the way looked at them with a mixture of curiosity and unease. Scar met their gazes with a cold smile, enjoying the way they averted their eyes and finding some bitterness in his heart when Sarabi did not.
As they finally reached the base of Pride Rock, Scar could see Mufasa waiting, his powerful frame silhouetted against the horizon. The king's expression was stern, a mixture of worry and authority.
"Ah, brother," Scar said, with mock cheerfulness as he approached. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
The King was strangely quiet, gazing off at nothing in particular and hardly taking notice of Scar’s presence or Zazu's safe return. Were it not for the slightest twist of his head and twitch of his ear, there would have been nothing to keep from the assumption that he had fallen asleep standing up.
Mufasa's silence and distant gaze put Scar on edge. This was not the confrontational king he expected. Zazu flitted nervously beside them, clearly uncertain of how to proceed.
Scar cleared his throat, trying to break the tension, "Mufasa, you summoned me regarding the stampede?"
Finally, Mufasa turned his head, his eyes locking onto Scar's with an intensity that belied his calm demeanor, "Thank you for saving my son's life."
That in itself surprised Scar. He had been expecting hostility and confrontation. An interrogation at the very least.
Most surprising were Mufasa's next actions, the King slowly closing the distance between them and affectionately nuzzling the side of his baby brother’s dark mane.
Scar froze, caught off guard by Mufasa's unexpected gesture. The touch of his brother's mane against his own brought back unwanted memories of simpler times, before political nuances had driven a wedge between them.
Mufasa pulled back, his eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of sadness, "Thank you for saving my son's life," he repeated, "were it not for you informing me of Simba's predicament... I fear that the worse could have happened."
Scar’s mind raced, trying to reconcile this heartfelt moment with his plans. He had orchestrated the stampede to rid himself of both Mufasa and Simba, yet here was his brother, thanking him for an act of heroism he hadn't intended.
He forced a smile, masking his internal turmoil with a mastery practiced over years. "Of course, brother. Family is everything," he said, the words tasting like gall on his tongue.
Somewhere along the line in all of that Mufasa had started to smile. The damned oaf had begun to smile and it was causing an uncomfortable knot in Scar’s stomach.
"If you would excuse me brother," Scar said through half of a cough as he began to walk off, not in the mood to conjure up a decent excuse, "the hour grows late. I should return to my–"
"Stay," Mufasa said rather suddenly, taking a step in his direction. "Stay here tonight."
Scar halted, mid-step, the words catching him off guard. He turned slowly, eyes narrowing as he studied his brother's earnest expression. "Stay?" he repeated, as if the word itself was foreign.
"Yes, stay," Mufasa said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "We haven't spent much time together recently, in a long time in all honesty. It would be good for us, good for the pride."
Scar's mind raced, trying to understand this unexpected invitation.
For a brief moment, he grew annoyed with himself. He needed to plan, to find a new strategy in his desire for the throne, not to stand about like a fool pondering over what Mufasa was offering him.
"Just for tonight," Mufasa added, almost breathless.
Just for tonight.
"Very well," Scar finally said, his tone measured. "For tonight."
Mufasa's face lit up with a genuine smile, a sight which made Scar's stomach churn once more. "Excellent. We can have dinner with Sarabi and Simba."
The evening sky was painted with hues of orange and purple as they ascended, the pride gathering for the evening meal. Scar found himself rather awkwardly standing amidst each warm conversation of the lionesses, feeling largely out of place even in the place he had once adamantly called home.
"Uncle Scar!" Simba piped up, his voice wavering but filled with genuine affection. "Thank you for helping me today."
Scar felt a lump in his throat, the genuine gratitude from the cub making it difficult to maintain his usual composure. "Think nothing of it, Simba," he said, forcing a smile. "Just try to stay out of trouble from now on, hmm?"
The meal progressed with a sense of camaraderie that Scar found both foreign and familiar. Stories were shared, laughter echoed, and for a moment, the weight of his schemes seemed to lift, replaced by an old, almost forgotten sense of belonging.
As the evening drew to a close, Scar found himself standing at the edge of Pride Rock, gazing out at the starlit savannah. Mufasa joined him, the two brothers standing side by side in silence.
"The stars are beautiful tonight," Mufasa said quietly. "They remind me of our father."
Scar could not help but roll his eyes at that, having always found the tales of the Great Kings of The Past to be nothing but nonsensical tripe fed to young cubs.
"I would rather forget about your father if it's all the same to you."
Mufasa sighed, his eyes still fixed on the stars. "I know you never saw eye to eye with him, but he always wanted what was best for us, for the pride. It's all I want for you as well."
Scar had to fight to prevent the scoff from escaping his lips. "You are king Mufasa, I don't need your pity," he turned his head away, that scoff escaping at last. "I should leave in fact, how could a king want this dirty, undignified–"
"Stay then and let me not be king, let me be your brother."
"... brother," Scar repeated in a mutter. The concept felt alien, an echo from a past long buried under layers of resentment and ambition.
Scar’s ears twitched at Mufasa’s words. There was a vulnerability in his brother’s tone that he hadn’t heard in years. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Mufasa’s earnest expression.
"Your brother..." Scar repeated softly, almost to himself. The concept felt alien, an echo from a past long buried under layers of resentment and ambition.
Mufasa stepped closer, his gaze unwavering, "Yes, my brother. We were once inseparable, you and I. We shared everything—our dreams, our fears, our joys. I miss that, Scar. I miss you."
Scar felt a pang of something he couldn't quite identify. It wasn't the cold, calculated hatred that had driven him for so long. It was something warmer, more painful in its unexpectedness. He turned fully to face Mufasa, searching his brother’s eyes for any sign of deceit as he was prone to do, but finding only sincerity.
"Why now?" Scar's voice was barely a whisper, laced with genuine curiosity. "Why this sudden display of brotherly affection?"
Mufasa sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground, "Because I almost lost my son today. And it made me realize how fragile everything is. How easily it could all be taken away. I don't want to lose you too, Scar. Not to anger, or jealousy, or the past."
For a moment, the weight of Mufasa’s words hung heavily between them. Scar felt a flicker of the bond they once shared, a bond that had been twisted and frayed but perhaps not entirely broken.
"Just for tonight," Scar repeated, almost to reassure himself. "I will stay."
Mufasa smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face much as it had earlier. "Thank you, Scar." He hesitated in place for some time but then stretched over to nuzzle his brother once more before pulling back and gently bumping his nose into Scar’s. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight Mufasa," Scar said at last through the strangled sound in the back of his throat and a mouth twisted awkwardly.
He hovered in place, watching as Mufasa returned to the den.
He followed.
Life really was not fair.