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Kiara's Sahifa   Fan Fiction Main   The Rogue, Part 1

The Rogue, Part 1: Prince Majaka

By Abmis 1

Check out the pictures accompanying this story in the Fan Art section.

     King Mwako was dead. Rafiki couldn't find a heart beat. Falali, Zazu's granddaughter, sat beside the King and wept quietly. The lionesses surrounded Mwako, looking on with hope in their eyes. Rafiki had to face them. "He has joined the stars." Rafiki said sadly. Majaka, the king's teenage son, knew the truth. He sat with his head hung in despair. The sting of his mother's death was still fresh in his heart, and now his father was gone, too.

     Majaka's a stunningly handsome lion, young and free-spirited. Unlike his father, his mane is a sandy blonde. His pelt is a light tan, like his mother's once was. His eyes are icy blue. He is muscular and slender, a regal sight to behold. His mane is small and parted down the middle. He always has a few locks of hair hanging in his face, mostly on the left side of his head where his mane is swept back. He never felt himself a true prince, his spirit was never into it. Yet in his grief, a great dread surfaced: Becoming King.

     "It is time, Prince Majaka." Rafiki said softly. Majaka swallowed hard. His chest ached from holding back his emotions. "I...I cannot take my Father's place." Majaka choked out. There were gasps among the lionesses. Fahali flew to her prince. "This can't be true, young master. You must be King. It is your destiny!" The little pink hornbill said in her South African accent, which she inherited from her grandfather. Rafiki stepped forward to correct what Falali had said. "Only you, my boy, can choose your destiny. Not us. Only you."

     Majaka smiled. He hugged Rafiki, old and timeless as the Pride Lands themselves. "You must choose an heir." Rafiki said. "Kwahedi, my sister." Majaka said quickly. Kwahedi, his twin sister, widened her eyes and smiled. Even though Majaka had been the firstborn cub, Kwahedi was more serious and together then he'd ever be. She listened to all of her brother's lessons and knew everything about being a Queen.

     The siblings embraced. "Take care of my lands, Kwahedi." Majaka said to her in his gentle but peircing voice. Kwahedi gave her golden-maned brother a noogie. "You worry about taking care of yourself, Jak. I'll take care of these lands. You know it."

     By dusk, Jak had said good-bye to all his friends, which included Naya, Ketu, and Azizi the energetic triplet meerkats, who were decendants of Jak's great-grandfather Simba's friend Timon. Also to Kinshasa, the old warthog, who was Pumbaa's son. Falali wished him luck and Kwahedi made him promise he'd visit.

     Jak looked one last time at his home, and turned to the outlands where he'd start a good life. He thought of all the great Kings and Queens of the past. The kind widower Mohatu, fair leaders Ahadi and Akase, The wise, loving Mufasa and Sarabi. Simba and Nala, the greatests monarchs of all. Kiara and Kovu, the young couple that were so into each other. Mwako and Kekani, his mom and dad. Now Queen Kwahedi would rule. A King Majaka just did not seem to fit.

     By dawn he settled down under a desert cliff and slept. When he awoke, the night would bring the start of a new life. No more royal protocol to memorize, no more training, no more pressure or stress. His former world was gone. He'd wash all the old, painful memories from his mind and start fresh: He would become a Rogue.

     Some lions called them Rogues, others called them wanderers. Jak personally liked "Traveler" best. He'd get to see the whole world, without a care. He'd work his way from place to place, and take life as it came at him. He loved the thought of waking up in the morning not knowing where he would end up, or who he would meet. Not knowing what new adventures each day would hold. Living life to the fullest and making it count.

     Jak awoke in mid-afternoon. It was stifling hot, his outstreached legs and feet burned, and he quickly tucked them into the shade of the cliff. He squinted in the blinding light. His eyes refused to ajust. The sun began to sink lower to the horizon, eating up the little shade he had. "Damn it!" he swore as it became so sweltering, his tongue rolled out and he bagan to pant heavily.

     The sun seemed unforgiving, burning hotter every second. Only a small ribbon of shade remained beneath Jak's cliff. "Crap." Jak said weakly as he lay on his side in the unbearable heat. Vultures began to circle his head. "No." he told himself. He lifted his body with the last of his strength. He could make it. He wasn't giving up. Not so soon. He trudged along the burning ground, dragging his feet as if they were weighted. He collapsed a few times, but pulled himself up and went on.

     His first day on his own and he was near death. He thought of the waterhole back home. Kinshasa would be wallowing in the muddy banks, telling stories to the cubs. The meerkat triplets would have started a mud fight. Fahali would be splashing about in the shallows for her daily bird bath. The lionesses would be sleeping or chatting on shore under the shade of the acacias. Kwahedi would be owerlooking them wisely, monitoring the cubs, refusing to engage in the gossip of her Pride Sisters. Good old Kwahedi, the Queen, Jak thought as he became more dazed.

     Then he spotted something. A waterhole, right ahead. He stumbled toward it excitedly, diving into it yelling with joy. He landed in a pile of sand. "Crap. Only a mirage." he said weakly, laying on his side. He swore quietly as conciousness left him.

     Mpalio raced over the dunes, his little black nose to the ground. He's a rather cute little fennec fox, tawny-colored and wide-eyed. Suddenly, he stopped and snorted. He then lifted his head and glanced behind him. "Waridi! C'mere!" he called. A beautiful green-eyed lioness, a deep golden color with creme-colored paws, muzzle, and belly comes walking daintily towards Mpalio. "Honestly, Mpalio, must you..." she gasps. Lying on his side in a heap is a handsome young lion, with a sandy-colored mane only slightly darker then his tan pelt. He appears to be breathing, but unconcious. "Well, well, well. Handsome fellow, isn't he, Mpalio? We best get him to the Oasis." "He's a rogue, miss. A wanderer. A ruffian. Lets just move on." Mpalio said, turning to leave. Waridi didn't move. "He'll die if we leave him here. I'm taking him back." She scooped the lion onto her back and carried him off.

     Mpalio sighed, racing up to his misstress. "What are you going to say to your parents, eh? 'He followed me home, can I keep him?'" Waridi chuckled. "No! Don't be silly. Mother and Father have a heart. They'll understand." Waridi lowered her voice and whispered to herself, "I hope."

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