The Lion King II: Simba's Pride

How the Scar Scene Could Have Played Out

Dark, menacing clouds turned the sky gray, and heralded the coming storm. The air was charged from the aftermath of violence. Blood had been shed on this day. On an old log, part of a large natural dam, Zira sat dejected, mourning her late son, Nuka. "Scar, watch over my poor Nuka." She turned to see her youngest, Kovu, sitting respectfully through the impromptu ceremony. Rage filled her heart. “No,” she whispered. It was Kovu who was supposed to seduce the princess; Kovu, who was to get close to the king, to kill him. Time and again, Kovu had failed to carry out his orders. Even when he was alone with the king, Kovu had refrained from attacking him. What was worse; when the entire outcast pride had attacked the king, Kovu had interfered, and tried to protect the king. Because of Kovu, the king escaped and managed to kill Zira’s firstborn, Nuka, in the process!

Now Zira saw everything clearly. Who was she to think she could raise a child to carry on Scar's legacy? He possessed a mind like no other. Only Scar could have properly raised up the child he chose to be his heir. She should have trained Nuka for the mission; at least he always showed ambition. Kovu had merely gone through the paces to please her. Were Scar still alive, it might have been a different matter. This son of hers, to whom she had devoted all her time and attention, always proved to be nothing but disappointment. For years now, she had been planning and working for his reign as king over the Pridelands, and he never showed the slighted bit of interest or gratitude. “You!” she shouted as she lunged at her wayward son, and struck him a fierce blow to the face.

Kovu grunted at the pain, gritted his teeth, and submitted to whatever punishment his mother had in store, just as he had done his entire life. He held his breath. When he received no further strikes, he abandoned his ready state and gasped at the pain. Everything to him seemed a blur, he breathed heavily, and saw the world in pairs, but slowly everything came into focus. Kovu glared defiantly into his mother’s hate filled eyes.

Zira’s eyes widened. It seemed as though fate were teasing her. She had done more than simply mete out punishment. Kovu's face had changed, and it was all the more infuriating to her. A deep, red scar crossed over his left eye, and ran down his cheek. A trickle of blood flowed from it, dripping onto the dirt. Her son now resembled Scar more than ever. “Scar, what is this?” she thought.

She brushed aside her surprise and interrogated him. “What have you done?”

Kovu's eyes danced back and forth as he searched desperately for a good answer, “I didn’t… I… I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t my fault! I… it…” He sighed, and regained his composure. There was no acceptable answer. He knew he was not responsible for his brother’s death, but how could he ever make his enraged mother understand that? “Enough of this foolishness!” he thought, “I'm not her little cub anymore.”

Kovu leaned forward, and looked his mother straight in the eye, saying “I did nothing!”

“Exactly!” She snapped. “And in doing so, you’ve betrayed your pride! Betrayed Scar!”

Kovu tensed at the mention of Scar. His entire life, he had heard Scar praised and worshiped, been told of the wonderful things he had done. He was told that Simba had usurped the throne, and that he was to take back the Pridelands and follow in Scar’s footsteps, but he had learned a different story during his time in the Pridelands, and now the old stories tasted of lies. He couldn’t restrain himself anymore. Kovu rose to his full height and raised his voice to ensure his mother heard, “I want nothing more to do with him!” He could feel his heartbeat quickening in his chest.

Zira stepped toward him, also rising to her full height. The manner in which she approached Kovu made him uneasy. “You cannot escape it!” There was a wild, feral look about her.

Kovu now saw a different side of his mother, and it shook him to the core. Clumsily, awkwardly, he backed away until he tripped over a small outcrop of earth and landed on his back. He looked up at his mother’s now towering figure.

Rage burned brightly in Zira's eyes.“You were supposed to follow the plan! You were supposed to kill Simba! You had him alone! And then, you turned on your own pride! Nuka is dead now because of you!”

Those words, coming from her, slashed deeply into his heart. That his mother could blame him for such a thing tortured him through and through. The last bit of despairing, hopeful love that Kovu held for his mother snapped. He resented his mother. He hated her! Kovu was afraid of her, his own mother. When he realized it, he decided nothing could feel worse. The turmoil of love and hate intermingling boiled over in him. How could she accuse him of killing Nuka? That would make him just like Scar!

Just... like... Scar!

"Your own flesh and blood! A member of your pride!" Zira screamed, shaking with every word she uttered. “You’ve killed your own brother!”

Fear and hate bore rebellion. Kovu knew he was dead to her, so how could one more act of defiance hurt? Kovu rose to his feet, but kept his head low. He looked her in the eye, and said in a low voice,“I guess that makes me just like Scar.”

Zira paused. In a brief moment that seemed to last a lifetime, her gaze returned to the new scar on his face, the one she had given him. She simply sat there in a stupor as Kovu turned and walked away.

All became very still, and now, whenever Zira thought of Kovu, she could only see Scar.