This piece is dedicated to Christina Guieb and Gemma Birse. Especially Tina - you blow me away. Seriously. Words fail me when I attempt to describe your brilliance, which is no mean feat.

Right. From the title you may have been able to guess that this was inspired by the broadway song 'The Madness of King Scar' (and, of course, by you, Tina) BUT I thought Nala is way too young for him. I mean, he's her best friend's uncle. If I were him, I'd go for Sarabi. I love her name. So anyway, here we are; the Sarabi version. I also tried to keep it more faithful to the movie-Scar instead of the musical-Scar, but he's a hard character to grasp in that capacity. And I ignored the fact that there is a Disney sequel, because IMO it followed in the tradition of Disney sequels, and was crap.

Glad we got that sorted. Review please, this is my first Lion King fic but I do intend to write more; if you think this is a bad idea, or have any ideas on how I can improve, I'd love to hear them. Like, LOVE to hear them.

-for you!

The King stood on the edge of Pride Rock and stared out at his kingdom. The ground was bare and cracked, shadowed with the shape of the rock cast from stars that should not have been visible in the middle of the monsoon season. The dark shapes of hyenas littered the ground, with only the odd lioness among them, almost hidden in the rabble.

Things had gotten out of control. The hyenas had eaten more than he had anticipated, and the wildebeest herds had scattered, leaving nothing. And still he forced his lioness hunting parties to travel further afield every day and find enough to sate both species. The Pridelands were desolate and ruined. The land he had grown to love as a cub for the refuge it provided was no longer a refuge. There was nowhere to hide, not even for him.

He didn't need his brother's proud mate to tell him they were in trouble. But somehow he could not bring himself to give the order to leave; this was the land that had shaped him, the land he had won with his cunning and intelligence. He couldn't leave it now.

He had everything he'd ever wished for and still he wanted more, still he could not rest, still there was something missing. He was King; a good King, too. He had dawned a new era for the Pridelands, one that had made them greater and more feared than his brother had ever led the pride to be. So why had Mufasa had everything? He'd been loved. He'd had a Queen…

"Sarabi!" he called, raising his voice to a harsh roar. He saw one of the lionesses stir below him and felt a flicker of guilt as he saw the heaviness of her tread. He placed his own ambition above her happiness, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel a tiny bit bad about what he'd done to her.

Despite the broken thread of her heart, Sarabi held her head delicately high as she stepped through the mangy mass of hyenas to get to the King. She didn't hate him, though she tried. He wasn't responsible for the deaths of her mate and cub that left her empty and alone. He was more accountable for the destruction of her home, but it had not seemed like home without her family, and though she fought him daily for it, she did not care as much as she felt she should.

The hyenas watched her pass with slavering giggles. A few days ago a group of them had surrounded her while she drank at the waterhole, driven out of their tiny minds with hunger. Out of necessity she had killed them, and now she climbed Pride Rock, where once she had lived happily, to face the consequences of her actions.

Scar had become unpredictable. There was no telling what he'd do. "Yes, Scar?" she said coldly as she crested the rock where he stood. She stopped when she could see him, hesitant to approach further.

The King did not turn to face her, but instead stayed staring out over his wasteland of a kingdom. "I heard about your antics by the waterhole."

She breathed in and out slowly; he seemed preoccupied rather than angry. "It was me or them. Do not tell me you would have chosen them." There was a long pause as the dark-pelted lion agreed silently that he could not blame her. "They're hungry, Scar. Just like us. There is no food. We have to move on."

"I won't."

His tone was final and authoritative, as always, a hint of menace underpinning the calm words. Sarabi took a tentative step closer to her brother-in-law. "It was my home too, Scar. I was happy here. But there's nothing left anymore."

He looked at her for the first time, his vibrant green eyes, so different from Mufasa's, fixed on hers until she wanted to back down. She stared back instead, holding his gaze until he spoke. "Why do you hate me, Sarabi?" he asked.

His tone was nothing out of the ordinary, harsh and mocking, but the words were unlike anything she'd heard from his mouth before. They invited bluntness, instead of demanding false adulation. "You took away my family," she replied evenly, struggling to keep her voice level, "and now you're destroying my pride."

He gazed at her for a moment longer, then dropped his eyes. "What if I offered you a new family?"

She let slip a snort of derision. "The hyenas? They tried to eat me, Scar."

Her brother-in-law turned away from her again. "I don't mean the hyenas, Sarabi." The former Queen stood stock-still as she registered Scar's intention. "It has… come to my attention," he continued hesitantly, "that the Pridelands have no heir."

Shocked and almost repulsed, she tried to deflect. "If you will not leave, the pride will die, whether you have an heir or not."

There was a brief silence. "We cannot give up," he said finally. "If we wait, the rain will come and the herds will return."

Sarabi bit her lip. "No."

Scar turned again and paced his lean, sinewy body towards her. It took all her self-control not to back away from him as he spoke, his voice rough with rage. "Is that your answer?"

She dipped her head. "I've had my family."

The King of Pride Rock roared and pounced; his claws raked a line across her nose and she cried out in pain. He landed in front of her, so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. She turned away, one paw covering the gashes he had just given her. "You refuse me?" he roared in fury. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I am the King! Whatever I want, I have!"

"You are nothing compared to Mufasa," she whispered, breaking for the second time the one law he had enforced since taking the throne. She braced herself for him to attack her again, but he was still; his breathing slowed gradually.

"One way or another, Sarabi," he breathed in her ear eventually, "you will be mine."

She raised her head until they were almost touching and looked him in the eye, her lips curled involuntarily into a snarl. "Never."

He took a step closer and she stepped away, not wanting to touch him. He seemed to like this effect and took another step; again she backed away. "Tell me you love me, Sarabi," he whispered, taking another step, and another.

"No."

She kept stepping back, away from the advancing lion, but she knew she couldn't back away forever; the tip of Pride Rock protruded into the sky above her and sooner or later she would hit it. "Tell me I'm adored, idolised, respected, adulated, revered – tell me, Sarabi!"

"No!"

Her back hit the rock face and she stopped; he had her backed into a corner with no escape and him looming over her. She was his now. She had no choice. "Tell me!"

Retaining her dignity, she watched him with an air of calm that reached no deeper than her eyes. "Just let me go, Scar."

There was a long pause. Sarabi held her breath, wanting to close her eyes but knowing that was what he wanted. Finally, her brother-in-law took a step down. "Fine," he said, recovering his own composure. "Go, then." He took another step back and bowed his head. She hesitated at his suddenly broken demeanour. "Go!" he snarled, and she was startled into action. "Get out of my sight!"

She scampered down the rock again, breathing hard. He hadn't touched her. He'd let her go. She froze involuntarily as she heard his voice call after her, but only for a moment, before she ran away.

"I know your heart, Sarabi," he called. "You need love. I can give it to you. I'll be here when you come back."

Scar watched his dead brother's mate run away from him with an oddly satisfied feeling in his heart. He'd always liked being feared. And even though he'd wanted her, he knew he couldn't have her like that.

She wouldn't be back. She needed love, that was true. But not from him. And he didn't need it from her. He was King. He didn't need it from anybody.

He turned and paced gently back to his former position at the tip of the outcrop and watched her rejoin the rest of the pride, his pride, the pride he ruled. They were going to die if it didn't rain soon. He turned his head upwards to look at the stars. His father had told him once, when he and Mufasa lay together in their mother's arms, that when the Kings of the past died they became stars. It made him slightly uneasy, the thought that his father was watching what he was doing to the Pridelands.

What he'd done to Mufasa. Maybe that was the reason it hadn't rained: his brother was up there, watching him, punishing him. He pondered it a while before shrugging his regal shoulders and padding back into his cave.

So what if they didn't like it. It was their fault anyway.