Work Text:
To say that he was limping across the snow would be a rather kind understatement.
Battered, injured and left to trudge through snow deep enough that some of it reached his torso, Taka felt worse than he had ever felt before. He felt nauseous as well and guilty, oh so terribly guilty—the feeling gnawing away at his conscience like a pack of hungry scavengers over a decayed corpse.
The idea had seemed reasonable at first, maybe even brave, a word totally foreign to him. He had charged down in the direction of Kiros and his pride with all the confidence required in his gait—grand delusions had spurred him forward. He had seen with his own mind's eye, the death of Mufasa. A death which would have ensured that his right to the throne was forever his. Sarabi would have joined his brother in the ground were she to, after all his efforts, still find the gall to turn him down.
He would have looked to the heavens and proclaimed himself king to all those who so much as laid their eyes upon him.
He would have been the lion king.
Reality had quickly set in when, instead of being met with a warm welcome from Kiros, he had instead been pounced upon at once, the lionesses tearing into skin and clawing him wherever they could. He had begged of course, asked with his entire vocabulary for a mercy which he was not entirely certain they harbored. They had ignored him of course and merely continued to enjoy the rush of at last having caught what they had been hunting, even when the ending of said hunt had proved to be rather anticlimactic.
Kiros had watched and watched and for the longest time, Taka assumed that the older king would let the lionesses have their fun and their fill before he ever stepped in. This was after all, the one who had swept across the savanna like a plague in Europe, the one forever meant to cling onto the idea of one bloodline, the purest of bloodlines. To expect mercy was perhaps a fool's game.
Then, much to his surprise, over the near deafening sound of the savagery slowly killing him, Taka had heard one short, crisp word.
"Stop."
The lionesses surrounding him obeyed immediately as they were prone to do and bowed their heads as they awaited their king to rise and step forward.
It might have been a surge of adrenaline or it might have been because he was playing the fool again, but for whatever reason, Taka quickly leapt upright and began showering Kiros with thanks.
"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, y‐you have my eternal gratefulness, my eternal debt, whatever you want really. Thank you for showing—"
In an instant, he was no longer groveling at the king's paws, but was rather choking beneath one heavy paw. He felt hot breath run along his face, the growl and snarl in front of him seeming to bubble with an ever-growing intensity.
"What did you hope to achieve? Coming here... alone?"
What had he hoped to achieve? There could not have been any answer which would not have sounded ludicrous coming from his tongue. It was difficult to decide whether the feeling of his throat being crushed was any worse than the feeling of not having much of anything at all to say.
"Friendship?" Taka settled on, straining to speak or to make his answer sound any less incoherent.
Kiros growled again, closer, as though prepared to end him right there. "Friendship. You wanted friendship?"
As soon as some of the pressure on his windpipe was alleviated, Taka elaborated as best he could given the circumstances. "I did not kill your son. Mufasa killed your son. I have not been running from you and throwing you off at every step of the way, Mufasa has been doing that. I will gladly serve and acknowledge you. Mufasa never will. Let me join you. Let me join you and you will have what is your's and I will have what is mine."
Kiros was silent for a long moment, longer than he would have liked. Hope flared in his chest when a look bordering contentment flashed across his face, it quickly began to dissipate when Kiros returned to his original expression of suspicious anger.
"I will have what is mine?"
Taka nodded enthusiastically.
"And you will have what is your's?"
Amother nod, only slightly less enthusiastic.
"Tell me then, what exactly is your's?"
He froze, wondering how best to answer. Make it clear that he wanted Mufasa dead as much as anyone in the pride? Or make it clear that he would do anything that was asked of him? The throne was his surely, but then so was Mufasa. Sarabi was his as well and the bird she carried with her, annoying as he may have been was his advisor alongside Rafiki who was also his.
"My right to royalty."
Kiros looked down at him and then giggled, a pitiful, joyless sound, devoid of any humor. His giggles turned to chuckles and then chuckles turned to full-blown laughter, prompting some of his lionesses to nervously join in.
In the heat of the moment, even Taka considered laughing alongside them. That was until, he felt a sharp pain flare across his face and only in the daze that followed, did it dawn on him that he had just been struck by a heavy paw with it's claws out. The area surrounding his eye where he'd been cut, stung fiercely and left him wanting nothing more than to die.
"You don't seem to understand that you have no right to royalty no matter the blood which flows through your veins."
As if to emphasize his point, he let some of the blood which had caught on his paw, drip back onto Taka’s face.
"So long as I deem it, it shall be and I deem that you will never be a king."
The worse had happened next, it was too difficult to recall whether it came from fear or sadness, but whatever the feeling, it was strong enough to draw a strange mix of a whine and a cry from the back of his throat.
Any anger on the face of Kiros was immediately replaced by a look of disgust.
"Pathetic."
Were it possible to have melted into the snow beneath him, Taka would have done just that. Disappeared, vanished right into into the white abyss surrounding him, but the cold reality wouldn’t allow such mercy
"You truly are the most pathetic lion I've ever come across. And they called you a prince? Leave him," Kiros said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Let him crawl back to whatever pit he calls home and then sniff him and the others out first thing in the morning."
The lionesses stepped back, a collective sigh of disappointment escaping them. Taka's trembling limbs barely obeyed his desperate will to move.
But he had moved and was still moving, uncertain of where he was actually going.
Each step forward was like dragging an anchor through the frost. The snow swallowed his paws, his chest heaving with effort, his breath misting in the freezing air. The world seemed to blur—the snow, the sky, and the derisive eyes behind him all melding into one gray wash of hopelessness.
Every sting of the wind felt like a punishment he deserved. Each footfall whispered accusations: Coward. Weakling. Failure.
He was starving. It almost ashamed him to admit it, but he had never gone more than a few hours without food before. He was a prince after all and used to spend a significant amount of his time around the males who did nothing but eat and sleep.
Mufasa, the very Mufasa he had dreamed of killing not so long ago, had been quite conscious of that fact and had taken the liberty of hunting whatever he could catch for his brother.
It was difficult to tell whether his nauseum came from that small tidbit of knowledge or from the persistent growling of his stomach. Perhaps it came from one of his many lacerations or the bruise of his hingleg. Perhaps it came from the fresh scar which still stung over his eye.
Just what had he been trying to do?
The question gnawed at the edges of his mind, cruel and relentless, much like the hunger clawing at his insides. Every half-formed answer only spiraled into self-recrimination. Ambition? Madness? Desperation?
Why was it all so difficult? Why could he never just be like Mufasa? The one who had always had his back, his friend, his brother. The courageous one between them both.
Mufasa had been the steady rock in his life. The protector, the provider, the one who wore the mantle of responsibility with effortless grace. Mufasa was everything Taka had wanted to be but never could. And yet, there was a part of him—small, fragile, and terrified—that still clung to the notion that he could be. That he could be more than a cowardly shadow, more than an afterthought in the grand design of the savanna.
That part of him was now dwindling, fading under the crushing weight of his humiliation and pain.
A gust of wind howled past, whipping against his torn fur, stinging the fresh wounds across his body. He coughed, a dry, raspy sound that shook his frail frame. His legs wobbled beneath him, barely able to keep him upright. Each step was a gamble between movement and collapse.
Just keep going. Keep going.
But toward what? There was no home, no refuge waiting for him. Not after the betrayal he had been so easily willing to succumb to.
All that returning to Mufasa, Sarabi, Rafiki and Zazu would do, was bring Kiros right to them. It would be better off for him to just lay down in the snow and let it cover him. In such a death, there would perhaps be some quantum of dignity.
Taka's legs continued to carry him forward, though every stride felt like a cruel jest. The snow pressed against his body, numbing him, urging him to give in. He wanted to stop, to collapse and let the bitter cold consume him. Perhaps the snow could wash away the stains of his guilt, the marks of his failure. But some stubborn flicker of life — maybe defiance, maybe self-loathing — forced him to trudge on.
His mind churned with memories and questions. Why had he been so ready to discard Mufasa? His brother, who had always shielded him, who had never once hesitated to share his strength, his kindness, his love. The jealousy had festered so long, turning into a poison that seeped into his thoughts. It twisted his love for Mufasa and Sarabi into a toxic bitterness, until all he could see was his own inadequacy.
And Sarabi — her rejection stung more than he dared to admit. Why did it hurt so much that she chose Mufasa? Was it the loss of her, or the loss of the respect he so desperately craved? He couldn’t untangle his emotions. They were a knot of envy, resentment, and sorrow that he found tightened with every step.
A sudden rustle snapped him out of his downward spiral. He froze, heart pounding, ears perked to the sound of something moving through the snow. His battered mind immediately screamed danger. He squinted through the haze of snowflakes, trying to make out what lurked ahead. Fear clenched his stomach, but he was too exhausted to run or fight.
The shape moved closer. A golden form emerged from the swirling white. His breath caught in his throat.
It was Mufasa.
Taka's first instinct was to flee, to disappear before Mufasa could see him like this: broken, bleeding, and defeated. But his legs wouldn’t obey, his body rooted to the icy ground by weariness and shame.
Mufasa's eyes softened with relief as he approached. His mane was dusted with snow, but his warmth seemed to radiate through the cold air. In his mouth, he held a limp hare, freshly caught.
"Taka," Mufasa said gently, placing the hare on the snow. His deep voice was steady and soothing, as if it could somehow mend the fractures in Taka's heart. "I’ve been looking for you."
Taka's throat tightened. His vision blurred, but he blinked back the moisture, unwilling to show weakness — again.
"I thought... you might be hungry," Mufasa added, nudging the hare toward him. His eyes held no judgment, no anger. Only concern.
Taka stared at the offering, his stomach twisting painfully. He wanted to refuse, to deny the kindness he didn’t deserve. But the gnawing hunger was too strong, and before he could stop himself, he sank to his knees and tore into the hare. The warmth of the meat spread through his cold body, filling the emptiness, though it did nothing to dull the ache inside his chest.
He felt Mufasa sit beside him, the weight of his brother's presence both comforting and unbearable. Silence settled between them, broken only by the faint sound of the wind and Taka's labored chewing.
When he had eaten his fill, he finally dared to look at Mufasa. The golden lion's gaze was patient, waiting.
When Taka did not speak, Mufasa did.
"What happened?"
Taka flinched at the question, the shame burning hotter than the freezing wind biting his wounds. He looked away, his gaze fixating on the endless stretch of snow before him. What could he say? How could he admit to his brother — the brother he had betrayed in his mind and his heart — what he had done? What he had almost done? What he would have done were the world more favorable of him?
"I..." His voice was barely audible, swallowed by the howling wind. "I made a mistake."
Mufasa tilted his head, waiting, but he did not press. Taka hated him for that patience, for that understanding. It only made his guilt heavier, more suffocating.
"I thought..." Taka's words faltered, and he let out a bitter laugh, dry and humorless. "I miss my parents."
"I miss them too."
Mufasa's voice was soft, laced with sincerity. His golden eyes held a glimmer of pain, a shared grief that reached across the icy expanse between them. "I think about them every day, Taka. But their absence doesn’t mean we have to carry their shadows alone."
Taka looked down at his paws, crusted with snow and blood, and felt the weight of those words. Alone. That’s what he had been, wasn’t it? Or at least, it was what he had believed himself to be. Alone in his failures, his bitterness, his longing for things he could never have. Alone in the shadow of Mufasa's light.
"You don't understand," Taka muttered, his voice hoarse. "You never could. You're everything they wanted. Everything the pride needed. And I..." He hesitated, his voice breaking, "I'm nothing."
Mufasa frowned, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "You’re my brother, Taka. You’ve never been nothing to me."
Taka's chest heaved, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the dam within him finally broke. Hot tears streaked down his battered face, the warmth of them a cruel contrast to the biting cold around him. He hated crying, hated showing weakness — but he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not after everything.
"You don’t understand!" he choked out again, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. "You have her! You have Sarabi! She chose you, Mufasa! She’ll never choose me!"
Mufasa flinched, visibly taken aback by the outburst. He opened his mouth to speak, but Taka didn’t let him.
"Ever since we met her, she's been the only thing I ever wanted, the only one who ever looked at me like I wasn’t just some... some afterthought!" Taka’s voice rose, anger and despair intertwining. "And even then, she chose you. She’ll always choose you."
Mufasa lowered his head, his golden eyes filled with sorrow. He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the whistling wind and Taka’s broken sobs.
"Taka," Mufasa began softly, his voice steady but pained. "Sarabi... I don’t love her."
Taka froze, his tears halting mid-flow as he stared at his brother in disbelief. "What?" he rasped, his voice raw.
"I don’t love her," Mufasa repeated, his gaze meeting Taka’s with a solemn sincerity that struck like a thunderclap. "She’s a wonderful lioness, kind and strong. But my heart doesn’t belong to her. It never has."
Taka blinked, his mind reeling. "Then why—"
"Because she loves me," Mufasa said, cutting him off gently. "And because she expects me to love her back. That doesn't mean I'm going to oblige."
He stepped closer, his bigger frame casting a protective shadow over his trembling brother. "You’ve always been my brother," he said firmly, his voice gaining strength. "No matter what. You’ve always mattered to me. You will always matter to me. Not because of what Sarabi thinks. Not because of any bloodline. But because you're you."
Taka shook his head, his tears returning in full force. "You don’t mean that," he whispered, his voice cracking with doubt.
"I do," Mufasa said, his voice unwavering. "You’re not nothing, Taka. You’ve never been nothing. And I’ll keep reminding you of that until you believe it."
Taka buried his face in his paws, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions he had kept bottled up for so long. The guilt, the jealousy, the shame — it all surged to the surface, mingling with something he hadn’t felt in years: a glimmer of hope.
Mufasa didn’t move, didn’t pull away. He stayed by Taka’s side, his presence warm and solid against the cold. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Taka allowed himself to lean into that warmth as a brother seeking solace in the only family he had left.
The snow fell silently around them, the world seeming to pause as the two brothers sat together, the weight of their shared pain and unspoken love binding them more tightly than any bloodline ever could.
Taka struggled to his paws, his legs trembling beneath him, though whether from exhaustion, pain, or the weight of his shame, he couldn’t tell. He cast one last glance at the snow-covered expanse behind him, as if expecting Kiros’ lionesses to emerge from the shadows and finish what they had started. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he turned his gaze back to Mufasa.
His brother was already moving, his golden form cutting through the frost like a beacon. Taka hesitated for a heartbeat, then forced himself to follow. Each step was agony, his wounds protesting with every movement, but Mufasa didn’t rush him. He adjusted his pace, staying close, his presence a shield against the biting cold and the creeping terror in Taka’s mind.
"How far are we from the others?" Taka asked hoarsely, his voice barely carrying over the wind.
"Not far," Mufasa replied, glancing back at him. "But we should be sure to stay alert. An ambush could come at anytime."
Taka’s ears flattened against his skull. He had known that, of course, but hearing it from Mufasa made the reality even starker. Kiros would come, and when he did, there would be no mercy. Taka had gambled with his life, and now everyone else might have to pay the price.
"I should have stayed away," Taka muttered bitterly. "I should have let the snow take me."
Mufasa stopped abruptly, turning to face him. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made Taka shrink back. "Don’t say that," Mufasa said firmly. "You’re my brother, Taka. I don’t care what you’ve done or what you think you deserve. I will not leave you to die."
Taka looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "You don’t understand. I’ve... I’ve betrayed you, Mufasa. In my thoughts, in my heart. I—" His voice broke, and he shook his head. "You should hate me."
Mufasa stepped closer, his expression softening. "I don’t hate you, Taka. I could never hate you. You’re my brother, and that means more to me than anything else. Whatever has happened, we’ll face it together."
Taka’s throat tightened, the words catching like thorns. He wanted to believe Mufasa, to hold onto that unshakable bond they had shared as cubs. But the darkness in his heart was hard to silence.
"Come on," Mufasa said gently, nudging him forward. "We need to keep moving. The others are waiting."
Taka nodded reluctantly, his steps faltering but determined. He didn’t know if he deserved Mufasa’s forgiveness or his unwavering loyalty, but for now, he would follow. The snow stretched endlessly before them, but with Mufasa at his side, it no longer felt quite so cold.