In a place called Pride Lands, there sat a cub, his claws tugged in dried mud while his mother scolded him for playing near the Elephant Graveyard. He heard his mother’s heaving breath as she spoke with anger and worry.

“How many times have I told you, Taka? That place is no worthy for wander! You’ll just put yourself in jeopardy,” his mother said.

He saw the droplets of tears cascading down his mother’s eyes, and he felt guilty. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have followed him. Her mother tucked him under her, filling her with warmth.

“Forgive me, mother. My sojourn near that place was wrong. I shouldn’t have believed Mufasa,” he cried.

For a second, he felt her mother froze. He thought perhaps it was because he said something wrong.

“What did you say, little cub?”

They heard a voice behind them. Taka started to shiver in fear. For him, merely hearing his father’s voice brings creep in his veins — especially now that his father’s eyes were squinting into a glare, and that glare was focused on him.

“Mufasa lured me to that place, father. He told me I’d find Siban there,” Taka explained, but his father didn’t seem to believe him.

Siban is his companion just like how Mufasa has Zazu. Her mother told him that Siban’s been with him since he’s born.

“And did you find Siban in that tenebrous place?” his father asked with furrowed eyes.

Taka shifted his stares on the ground, afraid that telling him would worsen the situation.

“Siban was with me when you went there, Taka. Your brother told me that you went there by yourself just to prove us you’re brave!”

Taka wanted to defy his father for believing such lies. It wasn’t the truth. Mufasa was lying. The heavens know how scared he was when he took the path known to be treacherous and vile. If it weren’t for Siban’s sake, he would never go.

“You disappointed me again, Taka. You should take after your brother. A well-disciplined and much more worthy of the throne,” with that he moved his way inside the Pride Rock.

Taka scooted away from his mother’s warmth. He’s disappointed in her. She should’ve at least listened to him and told his father it wasn’t his fault.

It never was his fault, but they don’t believe him no matter what he says.

When everyone was asleep, he decided to talk to Mufasa. He thought it’s time to clear things between the two of them though he doesn’t know what started it all.

Mufasa was curled in his place, playing with the sand in front of him. He smirked when he saw Taka walking towards him.

“What are you doing still wandering around this time of hour? Sleep now before father sees you and scold you again,” Mufasa sneakered after ending his sentence.

Taka breathed before hoisting his paw in front of Mufasa.

“What are you doing?” Mufasa asked, his head quite tilted while looking at Taka’s hand.

“Truce,” he said.

Mufasa laughed at him.

“Are you aware that father never sees you worthy of the throne? Do you believe that starting this would end in something beautiful such as having a place in father’s eyes? Keep dreaming, brother.”

Taka was heaving with anger. He growled and started attacking Mufasa. Being much well-trained by his father, Mufasa took a step back before attacking his brother with his sharp claws.

Blood sprung out of Taka’s face. He was weak and dumbfounded. Taka looked at Mufasa, looking for a heap of pity or remorse for hurting his brother but he saw nothing but a devious smirk engraved in his face.

“Long live the King,” Mufasa said and left him bleeding.

Taka grew up with everyone calling him Scar. The wound he had when he fought with Mufasa left a huge scar on his left eye.

The scar was believed to never heal—just like how Scar believes his hatred towards his brother will never fade.

Years passed. Mufasa is the King and everyone bows their heads to him.

He was admiring the beauty of the Pride Lands when he felt someone behind him.

“Mufasa,” he uttered with gritted teeth.

“Forgive me for the mistakes I’ve done to you back then, Scar. I’ve learned,” Mufasa pleaded.

Scar bowed to his brother, making sure he’d never see his face.

“I’ve learned, too,” he grinned. His voice as soft as his cries and pleads when Mufasa left him bleeding.