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“Well done, Mufasa.” Desturi praised. “Your battle skills are coming along swimmingly. You’ll make a fine king someday.”

Mufasa smiled warmly up at his father, almost forgetting his brother who was pinned beneath him.

“Excuse me.” Askari interjected, spitting out sand. “Perhaps His Majesty could spare a moment to let me up!”

Mufasa swiftly removed himself from atop his brother. “S-sorry, ‘Skari.”

Askari didn’t even bother to brush himself off again, as this was his third time being pinned that day. “Yes, congrats on being the Pride Land’s biggest brute. You truly deserve your crown.” He mocked, sardonically.

Mufasa growled back at him. “Cut the crap, Askari! There’s more to being king than strength.”

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” Askari continued. “Though intelligence clearly isn’t part of the criteria…”

“Ugh, you’re impossible, Askari!” Mufasa spat. “Your just jealous that you can’t beat me in a fight.”

“I shouldn’t have too!” Askari snapped. “I have more brain than anyone else in the whole pride! Is that not enough for me to be a leader? Or something of importance?”

“Askari.” Desturi spoke up from his position in the grass. “As a prince, your duty is to help protect the Pride Lands from outsiders, just like your brother. That’s why I named you ‘Askari’.”

“Why bother?” Askari retorted. “Clearly Mufasa can do that all by himself. What does he need me for?”

“Well, I don’t want your help, anyway!” Mufasa snapped back. “You’ll just get in the way!”

“So you admit it, I’m just a nuisance to you!” Askari hissed.

“When you act like this? Like a whiny brat? Then yes, you are a nuisance!” Mufasa shouted. “It’s no wonder you weren’t chosen to be king, because you’re good for nothing—”

Askari suddenly swiped the ground and flung a paw-full of sand into his brother’s eyes. Mufasa reared back, roaring in pain and discomfort, as Askari jumped on him and went straight for his throat.

The two brothers brawled with fangs bared and claws out. Sand and dust were tossed about the clearing in their scuffle. The ordeal lasted about a minute before finally coming to an end. Once again, Askari found himself pinned, his face pushed into the dirt.

“That was a dirty move!” Mufasa hissed, still blinking sand out of his eyes.

“Actually,” Desturi began moving towards his sons. He’d been sitting back and watching the fight, not bothering to interfere. The boys would simply have to settle their differences on their own. “A trick like that would be useful against a real enemy. I’ll admit it was a clever move on Askari’s part.”

Mufasa huffed and moved off to the side where he could clean his eyes and lick his wounds. Both brothers had several scratches along their bodies, the worst being a deep gash along Askari’s left eye.

“However,” Desturi turned to his younger son, who remained slumped on the ground, tired and dejected. “Even against a blinded opponent, you still lost.” He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. “Therefore, I’m afraid I have nothing left to teach you.”

Askari didn’t say a word, instead he shakily stood up and turned away from his father and brother, stomping away into the grass.

“Hey, um…” Mufasa suddenly piped up, feeling a bit ashamed. “That gash looked pretty deep…” He muttered to his father.

“He’ll be fine.” Desturi insisted, leading his older son back towards Pride Rock. “Your brother needs to learn to take his licks. Otherwise….” He paused. “He won’t be of much use to this kingdom…”

Mufasa hesitated but followed his father anyway. He was still mad at Askari, after all. Maybe Desturi was right, and this was the kick in the ass his brother needed.

_________

For the last few months, I’ve been wanting to write a short scene depicting the moment Scar obtained his namesake. Obviously, I’ve done this in the past, and each time the one to give him his scar was his own father in an act of corporal punishment.

This time, however, I thought it would be more appropriate for Mufasa to be the culprit, inspired mainly by a brief line in the 2019 remake that implied Scar was wounded in a fight with Mufasa. I feel it better emphasizes why Scar holds so much resentment towards his brother, and their father’s cold parenting style does still play a part.

“I wouldn’t dream of challenging you… again.”

Note: They’re both teenagers/subadults here.

Askari – Swahili, meaning “soldier”

Description

“Well done, Mufasa.” Desturi praised. “Your battle skills are coming along swimmingly. You’ll make a fine king someday.”

Mufasa smiled warmly up at his father, almost forgetting his brother who was pinned beneath him.

“Excuse me.” Askari interjected, spitting out sand. “Perhaps His Majesty could spare a moment to let me up!”

Mufasa swiftly removed himself from atop his brother. “S-sorry, ‘Skari.”

Askari didn’t even bother to brush himself off again, as this was his third time being pinned that day. “Yes, congrats on being the Pride Land’s biggest brute. You truly deserve your crown.” He mocked, sardonically.

Mufasa growled back at him. “Cut the crap, Askari! There’s more to being king than strength.”

“Oh, I’m sure there is.” Askari continued. “Though intelligence clearly isn’t part of the criteria…”

“Ugh, you’re impossible, Askari!” Mufasa spat. “Your just jealous that you can’t beat me in a fight.”

“I shouldn’t have too!” Askari snapped. “I have more brain than anyone else in the whole pride! Is that not enough for me to be a leader? Or something of importance?”

“Askari.” Desturi spoke up from his position in the grass. “As a prince, your duty is to help protect the Pride Lands from outsiders, just like your brother. That’s why I named you ‘Askari’.”

“Why bother?” Askari retorted. “Clearly Mufasa can do that all by himself. What does he need me for?”

“Well, I don’t want your help, anyway!” Mufasa snapped back. “You’ll just get in the way!”

“So you admit it, I’m just a nuisance to you!” Askari hissed.

“When you act like this? Like a whiny brat? Then yes, you are a nuisance!” Mufasa shouted. “It’s no wonder you weren’t chosen to be king, because you’re good for nothing—”

Askari suddenly swiped the ground and flung a paw-full of sand into his brother’s eyes. Mufasa reared back, roaring in pain and discomfort, as Askari jumped on him and went straight for his throat.

The two brothers brawled with fangs bared and claws out. Sand and dust were tossed about the clearing in their scuffle. The ordeal lasted about a minute before finally coming to an end. Once again, Askari found himself pinned, his face pushed into the dirt.

“That was a dirty move!” Mufasa hissed, still blinking sand out of his eyes.

“Actually,” Desturi began moving towards his sons. He’d been sitting back and watching the fight, not bothering to interfere. The boys would simply have to settle their differences on their own. “A trick like that would be useful against a real enemy. I’ll admit it was a clever move on Askari’s part.”

Mufasa huffed and moved off to the side where he could clean his eyes and lick his wounds. Both brothers had several scratches along their bodies, the worst being a deep gash along Askari’s left eye.

“However,” Desturi turned to his younger son, who remained slumped on the ground, tired and dejected. “Even against a blinded opponent, you still lost.” He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. “Therefore, I’m afraid I have nothing left to teach you.”

Askari didn’t say a word, instead he shakily stood up and turned away from his father and brother, stomping away into the grass.

“Hey, um…” Mufasa suddenly piped up, feeling a bit ashamed. “That gash looked pretty deep…” He muttered to his father.

“He’ll be fine.” Desturi insisted, leading his older son back towards Pride Rock. “Your brother needs to learn to take his licks. Otherwise….” He paused. “He won’t be of much use to this kingdom…”

Mufasa hesitated but followed his father anyway. He was still mad at Askari, after all. Maybe Desturi was right, and this was the kick in the ass his brother needed.

_________

For the last few months, I’ve been wanting to write a short scene depicting the moment Scar obtained his namesake. Obviously, I’ve done this in the past, and each time the one to give him his scar was his own father in an act of corporal punishment.

This time, however, I thought it would be more appropriate for Mufasa to be the culprit, inspired mainly by a brief line in the 2019 remake that implied Scar was wounded in a fight with Mufasa. I feel it better emphasizes why Scar holds so much resentment towards his brother, and their father’s cold parenting style does still play a part.

“I wouldn’t dream of challenging you… again.”

Note: They’re both teenagers/subadults here.

Askari – Swahili, meaning “soldier”