A/N: Satya is Sanskrit for truth. Everybody says that truth is important of course, though they sure don't act like it. There's several reasons for why truth matters: First of all, it makes you trustworthy. You might be tempted to think you can get away with a lie, but habitual liars usually end up in a bad way. Successful leaders tend to build a reputation for honesty.

But there's a second reason which is often overlooked: Facts are what you use to build your model of reality. Even if you don't realize it, everything you say and do affects how you look at the world. If you just say what feels right without thinking, then without ever noticing it, you'll adjust your understanding of reality to fit with what you want to be true. As a famous Japanese character put it:

"If you don't watch your mouth, your mind will also become weak."

– Namikaze Minato

Though, instead of quoting fictional characters, I suppose I'd be better off quoting the man himself:

"When you are studying any matter, ask yourself only what are the facts, and what is the truth that the facts bear out. To do otherwise, is to embrace madness."

– Bertrand Russell.

Although, that's a bit of a misquote: He actually went on to say that "morality requires us to put up with the fact that some people say things that we don't like," and that we "must learn a kind of charity and tolerance which, if we are to live together and not die together, is absolutely vital to the continuation of human life on this planet." But I'm sure all that stuff wasn't important.

Scar knew that they were too late the moment he saw the look on Sarabi's face. She was waiting at the top of the entryway with an expression of purest worry.

She strode down to meet them halfway, nuzzling Simba's head with her own. "Simba, thank goodness you're all right." Her eyes rose to meet Scar's, and already he could see the doubt that had taken hold there. "The royal mjuzi has returned. Scar, he is saying all these dreadful things about you…"

"I can only imagine." There was a sick churning in his gut, and it was unlikely to get better any time soon. "Don't worry Sarabi; I will have matters cleared up soon enough." He turned around. "Zira?"

His companion nodded mutely, which was all the reassurance he was like to get. He gave her a grateful nod back, and together the group marched through the tunnel and into the royal den. The lionesses were all arranged in a circle around the king's dais – Rafiki was standing on top of the bier as he orated, with no sign of challenge to this blatant violation of custom, which was already a bad sign. The warthog and the meerkat stood at attention, guarding his flanks.

"…and have none of you ever wondered, why this strange and mysterious drought should strike so soon after poor Mufasa's untimely demise? The spirit kings take issue with Scar's leadership, you say! Ah, but what if cynicism has blinded you from seeing that it is so much worse than that?" They all turned their heads as Scar's group entered the room. "Oho, speak of the Asura and you shall surely tread upon its spindly tail! Has the wayward spirit come to defend himself from his past misdeeds?"

"Rafiki," Scar said, in as regal a tone as he could manage. What I wouldn't give for Mufasa's booming voice right now: I'd have him scurrying back to the jungle with a single roar. "What's the meaning of this theatre? Sarabi told me you've been spinning ugly tales about me to my subjects behind my back."

The mandrill's eyes lit up, and he waved his staff at Scar dramatically. "Ooh, only as ugly as your black heart, your majesty. Don't you know that the past always comes back to take its sweet revenge?"

"If you have something to say to me, Rafiki, I suggest you spit it out before you choke on it."

There was a gleam in the old monkey's eyes that doubled Scar's apprehension. "Oho, as impatient as you were as a young cub, I see. No, you have not changed, my noble king Scar." He turned to his audience. They were listening with a mixture of fascination and disbelief at the sheer brazenness of Rafiki's display – this had to be the most excitement they had seen in ages. "Let me ask all of you fine folks then, if this thought has ever occurred to you before: All his life, little Scar is at the throat of good king Mufasa. He wants to be king – so full of bright ideas he is of how the Pridelands ought to be run. They fight, and Scar is punished by the spirits. Then, as if struck by thunder, the good king dies, and his son crowns Scar king! An amazing turn of events, is it not? One might even call it… incredible."

"Mufasa died in a tragic accident," Scar said. This would have been the time to go on the offensive rather than let Rafiki play his game, but a sense of weariness had overtaken him after the day's events, and he resigned himself to letting it play out. "There was a stampede of Widebeests down at the gorge. He risked his life to save poor Simba, but though he managed to save his son he lost his own life."

"It's true," Simba whispered, though a tremor in his voice gave the lie to his statement. He suspects me too, then. Somehow, that thought hurt him so much more than any fear of being found guilty. "I saw it myself. His death wasn't the fault of – nobody would ever mean for something like that to happen."

"Oh my poor boy," Rafiki said. He stepped of the dais to reach out to Simba, but the boy ducked his head out of the way. "I should have been there for you, when it happened – I hurried back as soon as I could when I realized the terrible truth of the matter."

"You lie!" Zira's hindbrain had apparently run out of patience, for she pounced right in the middle of the circle and snarled at Rafiki. "You didn't come back for Simba – I was the one who came and begged you to help him, and you refused! You didn't care at all, not even about the drought that's destroying the entire Pridelands, until I mentioned Scar being king. Then you struck the back of my head and ran all the way here to abduct Simba, just so you could cast your glamour on him and whisper lies into his ear!"

Angry murmurs went up around the crowd as Simba nodded to confirm this, but inwardly Scar cursed: That had been a point he had been saving up for a critical moment, to rob Rafiki of his momentum right after he made his accusation. Diplomacy was but an extension of war, and war could be reduced to the weapons and tools each side had at its disposal – you needed to use each to its maximum effect, for when you ran out you lost. Zira's lack of self-control might just have cost him the entire trial.

"Zira is the fiercest huntress in my unit," queen Sarabi said icily, "and a very good friend of mine. What do you have to say in your defence, Rafiki?"

The mjuzi bowed apologetically. "It is true, I fear. I did indeed lash out at fairest Zira, so distraught was I to learn of the events that plagued my home. You see, Zira's deep and profound love for king Scar is apparent to all, and I feared her devotion would drive her to alert him if I made my intentions known."

"Then why did you take Simba?" Young Nala had stepped forward, staring the much larger mandrill down with a protective fierceness that might have been heart-warming under other circumstances. "You told him you were going to take him to see his past, but that wasn't true, was it? You just wanted to tell him evil lies to turn him against his uncle the king."

All eyes turned to Simba, who shuffled awkwardly on the spot. "I mean… what happened is he took me to the swamp and told me to look into the water after making me sniff some weird stuff – I really did see my dad in the clouds then, just like he said, but uncle Scar said that what he told me didn't sound like my dad at all." Simba looked uncertainly at Scar, who gave him an unsteady smile in response. It was not much of a defence, but at least the boy had not abandoned him entirely.

Rafiki shook his head. "Oho, I'm very sorry my boy, but I'm afraid your uncle Scar's word proves very little in this case. Or any case, for that matter; or any matter, in any case – in case it matters."

"Indeed," said Zazu, landing besides Scar with a decidedly unimpressed look on his face. Had he been hidden amongst the stalactites the whole time? "I can confirm that His Majesty's assertions regarding his own splendour and cleverness are questionable at best. However, it must be said that when it mattered most he stepped up and performed above all reasonable expectations, and I fail to see why we should trust in his stead the word of one who abandoned his post in the kingdom's hour of need."

Scar looked at the bird in silent wonder: He had hoped that perhaps one or two animals might have something positive to say in his defence, after all that he had done for them, but this… in all the room, there was not a single person who had abandoned him. They had not told Rafiki to leave either, but still.

For some reason, the thought only added to the knot in his stomach.

"Zazu's right," said Nala's mother, Sarafina. Scar had never spoken much with the lioness, and knew little about her except that she was Sarabi's oldest and closest friend. "Rafiki, I know that you and Mufasa were close, and I understand that you're distraught over his death. But if that's the case, why did you leave us when we needed you most? This drought is destroying the entire Pridelands… all of us are suffering. I'm only now hearing that you can apparently call upon Mufasa's spirit at any time – If so, why did you not intercede with the spirits on our behalf?"

"Hah, what a stupid question," said the meerkat, slapping his knees as he laughed. "If you all knew about the things Rafiki can do, everybody would be asking him for help all the time! And then there wouldn't be any time left for Hakuna Matata, if you know what I mean." He elbowed the old mandrill in the side, who looked anything but amused. "Isn't that right, Rafiki, you sly dog? Eh? Eh?"

"I… will admit that I've been somewhat remiss in my official duties," Rafiki said carefully. All across the room animals were shooting him dirty looks now. "But, all that is in the past! I was awash with grief following the death of my dear friend, Mufasa, and needed time to mourn." He clasped his chest with one hand and bowed deeply. "But now the time for mourning is over – the time for justice has come!"

"Justice," said Scar. "And what is this justice of yours?" He realized he was probably doing Rafiki a favour by asking that question, but he just wanted the whole thing to be over with. "Is it justice when the most vulnerable of our society suffer because of the egoistic negligence of the powerful few?"

"No," said Rafiki, as he clambered back onto the dais, "the justice I talk about is punishment for the murder of the greatest king we have ever known: Mufasa. That murderer is you, Scar! Or should I call you Taka, King of the Wastes?"

An outraged murmur went up amongst the crowd, but it was not as loud as it should have been; the result of Rafiki's efforts to lay the groundwork, spreading seeds of doubt in the minds of his audience long before Scar had even entered the room. He had lost so much of the fight already, just from the time he had taken to reassure Simba, and the argument he had had with Zira. Back when he was Captain of the Guard, he would never have made the mistake of entering the battlefield at such a disadvantage.

"A terrible thing to say, yes," Rafiki said. "But think back on what you know! Dear Scar might play the good king now, but have you all forgotten the way he was? I dare say every one of you has suffered an evil slight at his paws!" As he waved his staff across the room, Scar saw several heads dip slightly – too many, far too many, considering that Rafiki had not used any of his magics yet. "Old habits die hard, I say, and rotten apples do not turn fresh. His skills might have improved with practice, but the cat's tricks remain the same."

"How dare you," spat Sarabi. She strode forward, standing tall and terrible. "You have no idea who you're even talking about. Yes, it is true that the Scar I grew up with was vain, selfish and full of resentment. He fought with Mufasa, true – they fought all the time. Yet there was no question that Mufasa loved him always, and trusted him with his life. And now that I have come to know Scar better, I dare say he has become every bit the king my husband was!"

No, Scar whimpered, mutely. Please don't… please stop.

"All of us have come to rely on him," Sarabi continued, "and we have seen with our own eyes the deep well of goodness that resides within him. Not just as a leader in troubled times, who inspires courage in his people, but also as a dear friend, as a lover to Zira, and even as a parent!"

"Stop," Scar choked. It hurts. Why does it hurt so much? "Please stop…"

"I don't know what I would have done without him," she said. There was a fire in her eyes now, as she advanced upon Rafiki. "From the moment I was born, I was betrothed to Mufasa. I was told he was my past, present and future, and he soon became the very rock upon which I rested. When he died, all that certainty was taken from me." Her voice caught as she looked to Simba, and Scar winced, for he knew what was coming next. "I failed then, as – as a mother. My own son lay alone on that very dais you stand on, shaman, haunted by terrible nightmares. I could not bring myself to help him, so caught up was I in my own despair. If not for Scar…" She turned towards him, but he could not bring himself to meet her eyes. "Not since Mufasa have I met anyone as relentless in his pursuit of the common good, so unwilling to grant himself a moment's respite for the sake of personal happiness. How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, the very paragon of animals – revealing himself with every word and deed to be so very much a king!"

Mufasa… if I went outside now, would you be willing to strike me with lightning? Or just let me suffer?

Sarafina reached for her with one paw. "Sarabi… I didn't realize–"

Sarabi brushed her off, her orange eyes fixed on the elder mandrill. "Scar is the greatest treasure this kingdom has seen since the death of my husband, and I know that I can say this with the fullest approval of Mufasa's spirit: That nothing could please me more than if he would consider me his queen!"

Gasps went up around the circle of lions and animals, though Scar had difficulty making out their expressions, occupied as he was with attempting to bury his head into the ground. Dimly, he noticed that Sarafina was staring at him in a new light, and from the corner of his eye he saw Zira wearing a satisfied smirk – it seemed she was quite enjoying her overdue vengeance.

"Wait, mum and uncle Scar?" Simba made a face. "Eww, that'd be so weird!"

Nala smacked him. "Don't be a child! I happen to think it's very sweet. I think they'd be great together."

"Ah, I believe I owe you an apology, my fair queen," Rafiki said, bowing deeply as he stepped down from the dais. "I did not realize the full extent of your feelings, and you are entirely right to say what you have: I have been absent, and so I have not seen how your king Scar might have changed. But this also gives me a more, shall we say… objective perspective, yes?" He walked around the circle of onlookers with long strides, causing them to turn their heads with a mixture of anger and curiosity. "Our good king Mufasa dies, prince Simba abdicates the throne, and the spirits strike our unlikely king Scar with a drought as punishment. You must admit it seems suspicious, no?"

"You have nothing," Scar whispered. "No evidence. That's why you took Simba to talk to my brother, Mufasa – but the very person you accuse me of murdering refused to indict me. You have lost, Rafiki."

"So it would seem," said Rafiki, though his eyes still gleamed with a dangerous light. From out of nowhere, he produced a pouch that he tossed in the centre of the royal den. "But it is the judgement of the spirits that must decide the matter, not the testimony of any lion, no matter how noble." He dipped his staff into the bag, causing a red mist to pour forth, and used the powder to draw a wide circle around him. "This is the circle of truth: Anyone who stands within shall be forbidden by the spirits to speak any lie. King Scar, if you are indeed innocent as you say, you need only step forward and say so!"

Scar eyed the bag with apprehension. There was no spell that could force out the truth, but there were certainly powders and charms that affected the mind, and that was a dangerous proposition. "I don't see why I need to prove myself to you, shaman. Every attempt you have made to indict me has failed."

"Oho, then I see no reason for you to worry! You only have something to fear if your conscience is guilty." He smiled at Scar, baring teeth. "And just to make it a fair trial, I shall add this solemn vow: If you turn out to be innocent, well, then I will submit to any punishment you deem fit for my vile slander."

All around him, the crowd looked on with renewed curiosity. Just a moment earlier they had seemed ready to throw Rafiki out, but now they wanted to see what would happen next. If Scar declined the challenge, he would lose all the credibility he had gained from Sarabi's speech – there would be cause for doubt. Scar could probably have refused regardless, claiming the powder to be a poison, and yet…

Rafiki was challenging him to a battle of wits.

He recalled what he had said to Mufasa, shortly before his death: Temper, Temper. I wouldn't dream of entering a physical contest with you. Now if this kingdom had a more sensible system for transferring power, then certainly. But when it comes to brute strength, I'm afraid I'm at the shallow end of the gene pool…

After everything that had happened – after all the blows the spirits had dealt him for which there was no possible defence – this felt almost fair. He felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards despite himself.

If this shaman thinks he can get the better of the captain of the Lion Guard, he has another thing coming.

He stepped into the circle. Right away he felt the smoke force its way up his nostrils, and he took the time to steady himself and adjust to its effects, carefully examining his thoughts for any sign of alteration. Increased impulsiveness, compulsive behaviour… He flexed his muscles experimentally. Reduced physical responsiveness. Blurring of thoughts. Adjust with increased focus and tranquillity.

"Zira," he said, consciously controlling each individual muscle in his jaw, "if he asks me about anything other than Mufasa's death, kill him." She grinned as if she had just been promised a new chew toy.

"Oho, already the spirits bring out your murderous nature," Rafiki said. "But I do not fear you, kinslayer. The Kings of the Past shall protect me. Now tell me: Who is responsible for Mufasa's death?"

"Wildebeests," said Scar. He let the fumes wash over him. In his mind, he had already blocked out any sense of guilt, not assuming a mere guise but becoming innocent. "They trampled him in the gorge."

"Oho," said Rafiki. "And what caused this stampede?"

"Some commotion, I assume." Scar shrugged. "I was not there when it happened."

Rafiki's eyes narrowed. "Did you throw Mufasa into the gorge?"

"No." It had been more of a toss, really.

"Are you the reason he landed in the gorge?"

"No." That had been his other accomplice, gravity.

The mjuzi crossed his arms. "Did you intend for him to die?"

"I thought I did, when I was younger and more foolish, but not since then – and ever since his untimely demise, I have done nothing but act with the thought of my brother's approval in the back of my mind."

Rafiki frowned. "Would a fair and wise spirit, possessing all relevant knowledge of the events that happened during that day and those leading up to it, judge you as guilty for the purpose of this trial?"

"I have oft asked myself that very question," Scar admitted. Several times in the last second, at least. "In truth, scarcely a day goes by without me judging myself guilty for the terrible events that happened that day, as I think back on what else I could have done." He hung his head low, and from the corner of his eye he could see his brother's wife and son reach out to him in sympathy. "But then I think of what a wise and noble being as you describe would have to say to that, like my dear Sarabi or young Simba over there, and I know without a doubt that they would reassure me that I am innocent."

"Enough with your games!" Rafiki thrust his staff at him as if preparing to call forth a storm, though Scar doubted he could do so inside the cave. "Answer me directly, and this time without twisting any words: Were you in any way involved in the murder of Mufasa, or did you in any other way deliberately increase, whether through action or inaction, the likelihood that Mufasa would die in that gorge?"

"I was not, and I did not." He had only ever intended to migrate Mufasa's spirit to greener pastures after all, which could hardly be considered a deliberate attempt at murder – it was not his fault if the afterlife turned out to be a lie perpetuated by the likes of Rafiki.

Rafiki was working his jaw, grinding his teeth to the extent that you could see his muscles move. "Ohoho. I seem to have underestimated little Scar. Oh, the cat has learned new tricks, oh yes indeed…"

"Enough of this," said Sarabi, though Scar could see that she was visibly relieved. Somehow that still hurt to see, despite everything. "Rafiki, put a stop to this mockery of justice. Scar is clearly innocent!"

"Oh no," said Scar, raising his paw in admonition. The fumes were definitely influencing him now, but he did not care to stop it this time. "I might not have murdered Mufasa, but I could never claim to be innocent." He turned to the old mandrill, who was watching him wearily. "You said that there is not a person here who has not suffered an evil slight at my paw, and to that I confess. Sarabi called me selfish, vain, and full of resentment, and to that I must confess as well. To her charge of being like my older brother, however, I am wholly innocent – I could not think of a single person more ill-suited to follow in his paw prints, nor any king less deserving of the title or more unworthy of her praise. Indeed, her words have damned me harder than any accusation you could hope to conjure, monkey. If any of my friends and family suspected me of murder, then nothing is easier for me than to forgive them."

Several of the lionesses looked mortified now; their faces flush with shame at the thought of their earlier suspicions. Sarabi was foremost amongst them. "Scar…"

"No, no," said Scar, waving her off. "I'm not done. I also confess to taking your staff all that time ago, Rafiki, in a foolish and desperate attempt to recover my powers as Zira once suggested to me. As an adolescent I had dared imagine, for one brief moment, that I might deserve some manner of second chance in the eyes of the spirits, but I should have known better than that considering the company they keep. For that is the real reason you are here, is it not? The fact that I had the audacity to borrow a power which you consider to be rightfully yours." He smiled predatorily at Rafiki, who flinched at the sight. "And on that note, I will confess to one last matter – one more damning to my character than anything else I have said so far: That I am going to enjoy what Zira is about to do to you immensely."

"Indeed," said Sarabi. Her iron features had returned. "I think it is high time for justice to be done."

All around Scar the lionesses advanced on Rafiki, who swung wildly with his staff to fend them all off. Behind him, Zira was almost slavering as she prepared to pounce, her grin as bloodthirsty as Scar had ever seen it. Right as she was about to leap Rafiki swung with his staff and batted the bag of dust right into Scar's face, and he fell onto the ground with a scream, blinded and choking on the noxious fumes.

He struggled to get back on his paws, still coughing and wheezing as his eyes burned and the world spun around him. Through the haze he dimly saw that Rafiki was holding Zira hostage, grappling her from behind with his staff against her neck. "Do not move! The Asura might know a few tricks, yes, but let us see if his faithful Asuri is as clever!" He bent her over the fumes which were now spreading across the whole room. She choked and struggling vainly as the toxic smoke was forced down her throat.

Zira… no! "That's – that's no fair," he protested feebly. His head was spinning, his thoughts drowned out by the tumultuous maelstrom that was wreaking havoc with his mind. "You said... you said you would, submit…" She's not attuned. She doesn't have training. She's going to, to betray me. All is lost…

"Answer me, Asuri," Rafiki said, "What did your evil master tell you? Did he kill Mufasa?"

All around the room, lionesses were backing off, as much from the threat to Zira as from the fumes that were spreading ever further. "He – he's not…" She gasped for breath, but only inhaled more fumes. "He never said anything… murder. Only that he is, afraid, of spirits. They… hate him, like, like you all do…"

Rafiki cursed and tossed Zira aside with a twist of his staff. "Even trained your mistress, did you? Cunning, very cunning, oh yes… but did you think to train her son?"

Scar tried vainly to see through the crimson fumes and the acid that scorched his eyes, but when he did his despair redoubled – for Rafiki was now dangling Nuka from one hand. He desperately tried to remember what he had said in his presence, if there might be anything the boy had overheard…

"Tell me," Rafiki said, his voice reaching a fever pitch, "tell me boy! Your master is evil, yes? Tell me of the thing he did!"

"Lemme go!" The mangy cub twisted wildly as it tried to escape from the mandrill's grasp. "I ain't telling you nuffin'! Zira's gonna eat you, and, and…" More and more of the red fumes entered the boy's lungs as he gasped and wheezed. "And… and then Scar's gonna kill you, all of you! Just like mum always said he should." The boy twisted to dangle in Simba's direction, who looked even more horrified than he had before. "Yer not, yer not his son… I am! Scar's my real dad, and he's – he's gonna kill you and your stupid mum and make me his true heir, and then he's gonna take that stupid monkey staff and use it to get back his powers and fight all the stupid spirit kings and make himself god king of the whole world!"

"Aha," said Rafiki, dropping the boy in his excitement. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Scar's mouth drooped open, heedless of the fumes that were pouring in. "That – what? No, that's, that's not true. The boy is clearly – clearly delusional." He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back in order. "And, I mean, I know that's totally what I would say if I were guilty, but I'm – I mean, he's not…"

"The spirits have revealed the truth," Rafiki crowed, practically dancing on the spot. The fumes had to be affecting him as well, for all that he had built up a resistance. "Now you see, my friends! Now you see!"

The lionesses were looking on in shock from where they had gathered in the back of the cave. Only Sarabi still dared approach, heedless of the fumes, utter horror painted on her face as she confronted Scar. "It's not true," she whispered. "Scar, tell me it's not true."

"It's not true," said Simba. The boy stood there, alone, right in the middle of the fumes. Somehow Scar had managed to miss him. "He didn't do it, mother. It wasn't…" He faltered, choking on more than the crimson powder alone. "It wasn't him. Rafiki took me to see dad in the swamp, and I saw him in the clouds, and he said…" He looked at her, pleadingly. "It's all my fault. I'm the one who caused the stampede, by practicing my roar." Tears trickled down his cheeks. "He was so, he was so disappointed…"

"Damn it boy," Scar growled as he struggled to get up. "I told you. I bloody well told you: Don't you ever dare apologize to me! You owe me nothing, do you understand? Nothing!"

The boy winced, curling up into an ever-smaller ball until he was almost the same size as back then, which hurt Scar's chest so much more cruelly than the toxins ever could. "But… but I didn't listen to you, uncle Scar. If I had just stayed at the tree like you said… Dad said, he said that, that I had forgotten–"

"Shut up," Scar breathed, gasping for air. "Stop talking, you stupid – foolish boy! Why am I cursed with, with a family that is this, this dumb. You saw him climb, move up right to where I was!" Simba stared at him, no sign of comprehension dawning in his innocent brown eyes. "Damn it boy, you saw him fall with your own eyes! You saw us fight just four days before!" Nothing. "I tossed him into the ravine! I murdered him because I despised him, I listened calmly as he begged for mercy and I watched with glee as the last light left his eyes!"

Distantly, Scar became aware that the sound around them had died. Rafiki had stopped dancing. The lionesses had stopped retreating. The crimson mist had settled. Sarabi was staring at him.

"Scar, dear," he heard Zira faintly say, "this would be a very good moment to run."