Queen's English
Synopsis: For Sarabi, running an empire isn't easy. Beneath the powerful façade is an enigma. For Sarabi, running an empire isn't easy. As a very powerful figure, she has multiple parts to play. Here is a glimpse into the day of the life of the Queen of Pride Rock Incorporated where Sarabi is a den mother, Ariel and Jazzy are not quite besties but not quite enemies either, the Disney Princess sorority and college life thrives, and Meg is mystery personified.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the Walt Disney Company. I do not own them. This was written for entertainment purposes only.
This is dedicated to Robin Mask. This fic is long overdue. Real life, preparing for Comic Con, fighting bad guys, and feeding my bunnies can take a toll on the creative process. Sarabi is the primary character hence why I put this in the Lion King, not Disney section.
This month's issue of Sophistique featured her in a striking pose. In one image, she wore a black dress with a gold chain of which, a tooth hung loosely. She looked very poised and cat-like. In another, she sat a throne. The theme was African Paradise. The statue of Sekhmet and hieroglyphics were props for the set. In the last set of images, she wore a beige slate colored pantsuit which was accented by a gold chain and bracelets. Her hands and fingers were interlaced with brilliant sunset colored stones and jewelry. There were a lot of reds, oranges, browns and yellows. She also wore heels from YSL. It was a photo shoot fit for a Queen. On the cover, she gazed straight ahead as if in calm repose and in deep thought. Her deep sunset colored eyes were striking. They interlocked with the viewer's. They were the eyes of a huntress in deep thought. Mysterious. Regal. Demure.
Queen.
The magazine was framed along her wall. It stood beside other certificates of merit.
Sarabi was a muse for the fashion industry's more conservative but mature palate. She was a darling for the most fashionable designers who demanded that she wear their frocks from their most current collection. Fashion magazines cited her as an example for the dignified and refined woman. Sarabi was the exact opposite of notable and 'quirky' designer Cruella DeVille whose diva antics were legendary appealed to the middle aged woman who wore leopard print and puffy poodle pink skirts. There was no room in Sarabi's wardrobe for spots unless they were leopard and only if they were an accent, not a feature.
Although Sarabi had her tastes, she was not too ostentatious with her preferences when it came to fashion. She preferred a more minimalistic approach. She preferred greys and tans to neon and pastels. The latter were too bold and gaudy. She preferred to blend in and slink along the crowd at dinner soirees, like a lioness blending into the long grass on the savanna. It was not because she was shy. She already had enough responsibility and visibility in the world of commerce. There was no need to emphasize that with audacious attire. She felt more at ease with a taupe colored tunic, tight slacks and simple pumps than with in fluffy pink ostrich heels. She would rather wear jewels that were family heirlooms such as the topaz stone that was passed down from her mother. She could easily afford any of the brands but she was more practical. Her tastes were minimalist and feminine.
Simple yet bold.
She was more classical than trendy and as a mother to a new baby, her priorities were elsewhere than in what was fashionable on the runway or what the Babette's gossiped about on their weekly column. Her 'minimalist' style appealed to the poor graduate students on a budget and older women whose days of donning sunflowers and giant pink red bows on a pencil skirt were over and wished to be taken seriously. Her skills as a business woman appealed to a niche and aspiring business and finance majors who were low on budget but wished to emulate themselves in a dignified manner.
While Sarabi did enjoy the perks of being a billionaire's wife, she did not want to take advantage.
Any other woman would have seen it as an opportunity to indulge in her worst habits by treating themselves to name brand clothing, high end cosmetics and perfumes, twenty dollar drinks and other sorts of indulgences.
Being a 'Queen' meant responsibilities, first and foremost. Oh, the free flights, clothes and dinners at Lumiere's Café' were a nice gift. Any other woman would have soaked up the benefits without question. Sarabi didn't. She wanted to put her degree to use. She did not want to be a kept woman. It was a title without any real merit. She could have worked at a bank and married someone above middle management and live off his earnings but she did not. If she were to become a part of a vast empire, she wanted to play a significant part. She had to contribute somehow. It was a part of her upbringing. She came from a privileged upbringing. Etiquette was as important as knowing how many moons Mars had or the significance of Toulouse Lautrec's Night at Moulin Rouge. Her favorite was George Romney's Lady Grantham. Sarabi was often compared to the figure in Romey's work: the enigmatic smile and the way she carried herself with refined dignity attested to that.
Sarabi earned it and at times, very rarely so, she allowed herself to indulge in extracurricular activities.
For one, she enjoyed hunting.
The wall behind her was bedecked with various assortments from her trips to Africa.
A pair of elephant tusks.
The head of an antelope.
The horns of a tsessebe.
A zebra skin was set before her desk.
Sarabi's surroundings were polished with fine slate. She had a fountain shaped into the form of an antelope leaping away from a large lioness off in the center of the quarters. A set of Cape buffalo horns were displayed on a case that was made out of wood. An elephant's tusk, which was a gift from her 'sisters', was mounted on the wall behind her.
Ostrich feathers which adorned pens and pointers sat on her desk, looking like decorative pieces fit for a Queen. To the side, the low hum of water falling from an inbuilt irrigation system streamed down. There was more sunlight than shade. This was the habitat of a true huntress. She would be seen when she wanted to be seen. The room was almost like a hall. Tall vases contained large pieces and strips of bark and grass, giving the space a touch of the African savanna in the confines of the office space. It was the perfect place for someone who wanted to be hidden and enjoyed their privacy.
On her desk, a music device played African chants in a low volume.
Her study was made out of marble and polished stone.
Her stationary was personalized and finely detailed. She wrote hand written letters to emphasize closeness but she mainly stuck to email.
However, it would be a ruse to say that everything was smooth underneath that calm façade. All though invitations to the hottest parties and trading online handles with the rich and famous was a part of her reality, deadlines and responsibilities superseded any pleasures. She was responsible for the resources and managing the budget. One of her most significant roles was to help startup companies with aid. Just as she was altruistic, Sarabi was a realist. She also had to deal with the benefits and realities of being the wife of one of the most powerful businessmen. It was like being a politician's wife. There were perks. There were responsibilities. There were also less than savory truths.
She concentrated on the present matters at hand.
At 8:00, she gathered with her 'subjects' as they affectionately called themselves to discuss the agenda.
At 8:45, there was conference that would take place online with other women business leaders.
She was looking forward to having a lunch with Leah who was congruent with some of her ideals. She was kind and compassionate and her own daughter went to apply to Sarabi's summer internship program. However, Sarabi was none too fond of the Draconian viewpoints of fashion maven cum entrepreneur, Maleficent. Sarabi could not understand how her workers could stand to work under such taxing conditions:
The girls weighed less than one hundred and twenty pounds.
After five in the afternoon, her art department was responsible for scanning, tweaking images and writing articles for her e-zine, Maleficarum
Ballet flats and tennis shoes were not prohibited. Heels, chunky or high were required.
All employees had to wear deep purple, preferably silk with black. There had to be a lace ensemble somewhere in the details.
Though she did not necessarily agree with her methodology, Sarabi had to give her credit with her work ethic. When she wasn't around, Sarabi and Leah would share a small drink and croissant and gossip about the 'Dragon Lady'.
Between eleven fifteen and eleven thirty, she and her 'sisters' would gather at the restaurant for a quick bite.
12:15. Discuss projects with the girls and the details about the Spring Ball.
13:00 . Afternoon report with Zazu.
13:20. Internal business meeting.
She made a second mental note to tell her sister in law to stop making the new employees feel small. She madeWendy Darlingcry.
14:15. Pick up the baby from the sitter.
She was scribbling down notes sometime between lunchtime and downtime when a familiar voice perked from the door.
"Hello, Mrs. Pride?"
"Please, it is Sarabi. Let's forego the formalities, dear." Sarabi smiled.
"Oh, I am sorry. I am just not used to referring to my superiors by their first names," the young woman said with a giggle.
"Well, here you are more than welcome." Sarabi welcomed the pale skinned brunette. She wore a yellow oversized blue tunic and yellow leggings. She held her hair up in a red headband.
"I forget how hospitable you are. My stepmother was rather strict so I guess old habits are hard to break."
"Yes, they do but here, you are welcome anytime. There is no pressure, dear." Sarabi said assuredly.
"Is she ready?" A voice to the side of the door piped up.
"Oh, um, we have the new sketches and ideas for the Spring Ball. Is it okay if we show them to you or is this a bad time?" She said in a very sweet tone. She would have made a perfect kindergarten teacher.
She looked at the clock. She had a fifteen minute window before the next meeting.
"Yes, I would like to see your ideas, Snow."
"Okay, she's ready, girls!" Snow White mused and beckoned her friends to join her.
"We would have finished sooner if you hadn't taken so long, Cindy!" A second voice snapped.
"I happen to think that the little details are just as important!"
"In a quick presentation?" A girl with flaxen hair replied. She carried a pile of papers and a set up. She was Leah's daughter.
"Accents are just as important as the bold details, Aurora."
"While I do like the blue, it could have used more color." Aurora replied. She looked very elegant in a frock that shimmered pink and blue in the sunlight. She said that she made it herself. She had a wonderful soprano and was focused on singing but in her spare time, she taught herself a trade. She was really talented with how to spin a needle and could create a wonderful dress but Snow White was the one who was studying interior design and home economics. They were girls who were traditional in a sense and yet were very in touch with twenty first century tastes.
The girls brought along with them an assortment of sketches, magazines and a stand. It was a de facto presentation and knowing how the girls were quick to gossip and discuss the minute details of formal wear, Sarabi prepared for the onslaught.
"Okay, girls. What do we have so far?" Sarabi said with her fingers clasped together. She gave them her full attention. Knowing how graceful and patient she was, the girls took it upon themselves to make the presentation go as smoothly and quickly as possible. Though they could have, they did not wish to take advantage of Sarabi's generosity. She was more tolerant and patient with their fashion choices than the mother figures they grew up with. The least they could do is grant her some respect in kind.
"Okay, so we scrapped the original idea but we kept some things and we decided to go with these!" Snow White began. She was the eldest and was about to graduate. She was down to her last few hours of her program. Sarabi would never forget reading about her emotional and deep mission statement in her application. She grew up without a biological mother and was subject to abuse from her stepmother. She recalled a rather vivid detail about an incident where Snow White's stepmother had her try on a corset and the poor girl had fainted. After being cut off from her father's inheritance for many years, she found the strength and courage to move in with some friends. It was there that she discovered a love for cooking and house cleaning and this is what made her decide to choose a career in interior design. She was also planning on releasing a cookbook with her signature Gooseberry pie recipe.
Sarabi adjusted her glasses. What she saw surprised her. In fact, the details were focused on the setting than the attire. There was a carriage, some rose bushes, and a well-lit garden. Using charcoal on parchment, the girls had crafted a well-developed theme that was fairy tale inspired.
Was that an Apaloosa next to a Clydesdale next to the carriage?
"I see you took my advice quite deeply," Sarabi mused.
"Cindy suggested that we keep the lace and silk but to change the length in fabric!"
"I see. Can you tell me what that is?"
"Well, we wanted to keep the 'royal' theme. We thought that chandeliers would make a great addition. There would be gazebos covered in roses. A trellis, some catering, and live entertainment! I was thinking maybe a juggler. Just to give it a Medieval theme. Oh, I love what you did at your baby's christening!"
"Oh, banners! Don't forget banners, Aurora!" Cindy reminded her.
"Oh, oh yes, banners in our colors. Snow White could have "Canary Yellow", Cindy would have "Arctic Winter" and I would have "Spring Rose". Since we are the hosts, I felt it would be appropriate to have banners. The horses would be here. Cindy and I haven't agreed on the carriage design. She wants Pumpkin but I was thinking about something more classical. Perhaps there could be a way where we all agree on it. I was thinking it would be set up here right next to the catering!" Aurora explained with excitement.
Anyone else would have seen these three young women as contestants for a future episode of 'Super Sweet Sixteen'. The fact that they were charitable, educated young women with tragic histories who connected contrasted with that stereotype. They formed their own sorority clique that participated in various charitable events. Sometimes they were the traditional kissing booth. Other times, they were a bit creative. Aurora would auction off her old dresses, bought and handmade. Cindy was going to run her own starter company, which specialized in shoes, very soon. They were spoiled, albeit a little naïve, but they had hearts of gold. She owed Cinderella a great deal of gratitude for recommending a perfume. Her husband could not resist her. It was a detail she kept to herself.
"Where will you get the fabric for the banners?" Sarabi queried.
"Oh, I have my connections." Aurora winked. "They helped design my dress for my 'Welcome Home' party."
Sarabi immediately knew who Aurora was speaking about. They were three lovely spinsters that lived together. They never married or had children which allowed them to cultivate their 'home economics' based business. Flora had a cookbook coming out soon. Sarabi remembered seeing it advertised at a local high end book store. Her elder sister and young sister were the ones who had a talent for creating beautiful dresses. They specialized in 'Medieval' and 'Victorian' inspired dresses but could design something from any time period.
"Wonderful!"
Aurora continued explaining the details in the courtyard. Cinderella chimed in on occasions. She suggested a small aviary. The girls loved canaries, doves, and parakeets and felt that there needed to a special place for their babies at the celebration. It was better than them holding a small dog in one of those little purses.
"I am sure that we can arrange for something in the budget. But what about…..entertainment? When my husband and I celebrated our son's birth we hired a musical ensemble. Do you have any ideas for that?"
The girls exchanged glances.
"Well, we haven't really decided yet." Snow White replied.
"I want a magic show! Phillip took me to see this wonderful magician for my birthday! His name was Genie and he was so funny!" Aurora exclaimed happily.
"Oh, I love him too!" Snow White gasped. "I love what he did with those cards and those doves!"
The girls laughed and traded stories from their visit to Gene's Lamp at the Grand Palace. It was in a casino and they were recalling his various performances. He was also very flirty with the ladies.
"I went to see him with my boyfriend one time. At the end I got a bouquet with flowers…that made kissy and other rude noises." Cinderella said sheepishly. Snow White and Aurora looked at one another. While they wanted to see Genie's trick with the poodles, it wasn't worth their 'sister's' discomfort. They knew that she loved her boyfriend and would not do anything to hurt him. She was very sensitive about these sorts of things.
"Okay, we can arrange something. He doesn't charge too much and was willing to give us the 'Princess Discount'. How about music?" Snow White replied.
"Doesn't Belle, the girl who works at the university library know a good chamber ensemble? She studied in France. Maybe she can recommend a good folk troupe?"
"I am sure she does."
"I think that is a great idea!"
"How about a troubadour?" Cindy pointed out.
"Now that's sounds wonderful." Aurora said with a smile.
Sarabi wrote a note in her dossier and stressed that when she called that she would remind Belle that if she does indeed take the girls upon their offer to keep Lumiere away from all three of them.
"But what about your outfits, girls?"
She told the girls to rethink their theme. Aurora, suggested Once Upon a Dream as a theme. Perfect idea, Sarabi thought. Cinderella, Cindy as she was affectionately called, and Snow White agreed to it. That was until Sarabi saw some sketches that Aurora had designed that she had some reservations. While she did have some brilliant ideas regarding the setting, Sarabi felt that Aurora some rather peculiar ideas in regards to dress.
They had mentioned a couple of photographers named the Grimm Brothers who worked for the Zenoscope Company. Sarabi was very familiar with the name. The brothers were notable for their 'pin up' style photography. For Sarabi, there was a vast difference between 'refined cheesecake' and 'men's magazine' material. The brothers were part of the latter.
It wasn't until Cindy mentioned that each girl would have a unique color coded garter that matched their teddies that Sarabi interrupted and told them to go back to the drawing board. There was no doubt that they were creative and very ambitious youngwomen. She was proud to have them in her internship program but she was not sure if she was going to approve a party that came to life straight out of the Monica's Boudoir catalogue.
She was hoping that the girls had completely washed themselves of the idea of donning ANY form of lingerie for the ball. She looked at her dossier. She surreptitiously wrote down and underlined 'Renaissance' under her list of black listed ideas. Other possible approved ideas were 'Animal' and 'Superhero'. Whatever they did with their boyfriends (or each other) was their business but if the company's corpulent cook, Hugo, found out that the Spring Ball's theme was Kipling inspired, she would never live down that mental image of him in a leafy vine thong and singing karaoke to 'Welcome to the Jungle'. She had to admit, that last image was quite amusing, as embarrassing as it was.
In another day at another time, Sarabi was like the girls. The innocence, on the cusp of womanhood, where everything was green to her. She was more idealistic and romantic. Little wonder how Mufasa swayed her. Oh, that did not mean that she was easy. She loved giving him chase. The thrill of the hunt. Back when they were young. It seemed so long ago. He whisked her away to the trendy restaurants. When Aurora began dating, Sarabi recommended that they try the spinach cheese puffs at Cronk's Peruvian Grill. How she beamed when she found out that they had a wonderful time.
She was looking over some annotations when the door opened again. A young woman walked in with a determined look on her face. She too was of royalty but unlike the previous bunch, she was a more no frills type. She wore aqua colored palazzo pants and a small top. Her hair was held up in rings. The girls were fascinated by its texture. It was not to say that Jasmine was not romantic. She enjoyed being serenaded and dined out but she was aware of her privilege. While she enjoyed the benefits, but she longed to explore the world outside her bubble. She studied anthropology. She even made the effort to live in the slums for some time with her boyfriend, a young man from the streets who was fast on his feet as well as his tongue. This had been the basis of their tempestuous relationship but Jasmine knew she could never find an equal if she married an upper crust member. Al had provided her a sense of adventure. She was the provider in the relationship and although Aladdin was known for bending the truth at times to spare her feelings, he would never betray her. He was a diamond in the rough.
When Sarabi saw Jasmine, she knew that whatever was bothering the Princess of Agrabah had nothing to do with misplacing designer sun glasses or missing a sale.
"Jasmine, is something troubling you?" The Queen said serenely, immediately giving no thought to the pertinent tasks that demanded her attention.
"I just….I just can't believe that they would call me that." Jasmine said in an exasperated manner.
"What is it, child?" Sarabi ordered a batch of tea.
Jasmine sat down and placed her fingers in her hair, trying to contain the torrent of conflicting emotions in her head.
"We were having a discussion about gentrification, oppression, and privilege. I was explaining something and all of a sudden one of the other students called attention to my upbringing and negated my contribution," Jasmine huffed.
"My, how very dismissive," the Queen replied gently. Sarabi poured some chai onto two cups. She offered Jasmine some rock sugar but she refused.
"Yes, it was! It was completely unnecessary and uncalled for!" Jasmine caught her breath and drank some tea before she continued. "I just wanted to say that aside from the obvious differences, classes are not so different. Everyone has rules. We are all bound to them to some degree."
Sarabi nodded. "I agree, but some do not want to hear the answers, especially when they are not politically congruent with social sensitivities. It destroys the illusion."
"I am perfectly aware of where I come from but that does not mean that I am an oppressor! I have done my part to help but that got labeled as 'patronizing'. Even when I stressed that I had no vested interest….it just wasn't enough!" Jasmine huffed angrily before face palming. She was caught in a conundrum.
Sarabi was fond of Jasmine because she knew that she would not take advantage of her position for selfish purposes. She would rather renew the market place in her homeland by opening business venues with local vendors than to open another wing in the palace. She would rather help local fruit growers and help tribeswomen get clean water for their children and to wash than to have more jewelry at her disposal.
"Have you considered other alternatives?" Sarabi asked demurely.
"Such as?"
"Well, going back to the idea about rules. Those who are less fortunate, especially with the ones with sharp tongues like to create an image of two groups being pitted against one another. It is their way arousing emotion. But from a practical point of view, that is not so."
Jasmine was intrigued.
"Well, my husband told me that he and Shere Khan were having a discussion about our position and our employees. Shere Khan used the terms 'have' and the 'have nots'. I am not too fond of those terms because they suggest a level of stringent stratification. I believe that there are producers and consumers. It is a relationship that benefits both. A producer creates. Look at a tree where it bears fruit. The consumer eats and the seeds are replanted so that it can produce again. The producer needs the consumers to survive. The roles do not have to be fixed. It does not have to be a caste system. Perhaps that is why Shere Khan thinks that way. Some of our best producers were once consumers."
Jasmine nodded. It was certainly a very practical explanation. It was not inflammatory.
"I see what you are saying but I am not so sure if that will get their attention. How can I make a group understand when they accuse me of having only first world problems when my 'bad days' consist of someone telling me where to go and how to dress?" Jasmine said in a subtle and sarcastic fashion.
"Such is the circle of life, dear. I never said the answer was an easy one. These are questions you must consider when you run your own empire. It cannot exist without dreams but needs realistic goals and expectations. Sadly, some have a limited view. Not everything can be learned through textbooks." Sarabi said warmly.
Jasmine calmed down considerably. The way Sarabi explained things in her no nonsense approach calmed her. Jasmine could not stand lies, whether they came from her boyfriend or if they were sugar coated tidbits in an article. To be accused of being blind to her privilege and not knowing what the less fortunate experienced bothered her. As if her opinions and views did not count because she was too privileged. It angered her when she found her father was arranging a marriage to her and had even considered his personal advisor, a wealthy tall and snake-like banker as a suitable partner. She was livid and she felt as if she was reliving this again. Since breaking away from the familiar tradition, Jasmine wanted autonomy. She did not want others dictating HER thoughts, HER feelings and desires.
The calm mood between them was slightly disturbed by a small knock. On the other side, another visitor peered in. Her trademark red hair giving her away.
"Oh! Am I disturbing something?"
"Not at all! Please join us for tea!" Sarabi welcome her. Like Jasmine, Ariel wore aqua colored tones. Ariel's tea skirt contrasted beautifully with her mauve colored blouse. Like Jasmine, she too shared an interest in the world outside her protective shell.
"Oh, I love what you have done with the place! It's so detailed and layered! I could get lost in here!" Ariel giggled. She was one of the younger girls in the internship. At the cusp of seventeen, she had a childlike wonder about anything new. She had to explore and touch. She loved looking at the knick knacks and possessions that others had.
"Mere trinkets from my travels, dear. On my next expedition to the Serengeti, I will be sure to bring you back a necklace of Nile crocodile teeth." Sarabi beamed.
"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Ariel exclaimed.
"But before I do, Jasmine and I were discussing an issue regarding class and privilege."
"Oh," Ariel said in a piqued manner.
"It's nothing, really. I have it under control. The class won't meet until next week so I have time to make a counter claim."
"Well, what is it?" Ariel prodded on. Her genuine curiosity gained her friends. Although she was on the cusp of seventeen and grew up in a palace on the Atlantic Coast, she was not completely naïve. Oh, she did forget music rehearsals and was often caught staring at the window which lead to the veranda while her father gave her stern lectures, but that was because Ariel was more fascinated by things and people outside her insular world. Her father was very strict about her associating with 'mere mortals' but that only made them even more fascinating to her. They were the forbidden fruit. When she could, she would sneak off outside her room while her sisters slept. The crashing waves along the coast bolstered her ability to escape with their loud and thunderous roars. She would sneak off into the village and marvel at the foods, smells, culture, and customs. One of her most fond memories in the village was acquiring a seashell shaped hair clip from a skilled artisan. It was one of her most treasured items.
"Jasmine is having difficulties trying to get others to see her point of view." Sarabi said warmly.
"Well, what did they say?" Ariel asked with deep concern. Jasmine sighed.
"I was accused of patronizing those on who are less….economically endowed. I wanted to tell them that growing up in a palace did not automatically mean total freedom. There are rules and responsibilities. They may not be the same but to say that I don't know any better because I grew up in a glass house is missing the point. When they began putting words into my mouth, I had to walk away."
Ariel placed her hand on Jasmine's shoulder.
"Oh, I can relate. Daddy always berates me if I miss a rehearsal or if I am not present at a state dinner." Ariel said, trying to lighten the tense mood.
"But this isn't about accidentally missing a social banquet. It's about having others put words in your mouth and take away control. To negate your feelings and thoughts. I just don't respond well to that, I guess." Jasmine sighed. Ariel took initiative. She pulled out something from a pocket in her skirt.
"Oh, I know it's hard to try and convince others to share your point of view. Believe me. I can't make daddy see things my way and he's as stubborn as a bull shark." She giggled, trying to lighten the tone. "But if talking doesn't make them listen, you gotta show them." Ariel put the sea shell hair clip in Jasmine's hands. "Reading about things in text books is interesting but I find it more exciting to explore new worlds face to face."
"But I have already done that. Aladdin doesn't want to go back to where he was. Why should I deny him that?" Jasmine countered.
"See, that's the thing. Some respond well when you welcome them into your world. Others respond differently. There are times when you need to take control."
Sarabi nodded.
"Instead of trying to show them a whole new world, step out of your comfort zone and be a part of that world."
Sarabi made a gesture that signaled to the dusk skinned princess that Ariel had a point. A perfect example was the Pope. The people fell in love with him because he chose to forgo earthly pleasures such as a fine home and a car. Wealth was taking care of one's finances. It did not mean being spendthrift. It did not mean owning a Prius or three and having a fountain in front of your home that sprung chocolate sauce at the mouth. Jasmine was wealthy but she was not materialistic. She was rightfully disgusted.
Ariel may have been typical teenager but her intelligence could not be underestimated. She may have had her own unique way of looking at the world. She contributed to the internship experience in her own way and that is why she was well liked by the others. At first, Jasmine did not think she would see eye to eye with the princess of Atlantica. Yet, she saw that they had similarities. Both had an intense interest in the surrounding environment not within their vicinity, they both knew the importance of helping others, and they both had a sense of adventure that their peers in the 'Cotton Candy Club' did not. Ariel and Jasmine were not afraid of getting their hands dirty, but while Jasmine was less idealistically inclined, Ariel was more optimistic.
"I think you two should discuss this matter further. Do not hesitate to use my expense account for lunch. Tiana's raspberry soufflé' is divine." Sarabi smiled. The princesses left to discuss further matters. If Sarabi didn't know it, she would have thought that Jasmine and Ariel became a little closer due to this revelation. Both were from old money but had no desire to use their fortunate background to patronize others. They used that to better themselves in addition to helping the less fortunate. A trait that loosely shared with Aurora, Cindy, and Snow had. They all engaged in various charities dedicated to animals but those three would also sometimes spend an unusual amount of time at Georgette's Make-Up counter at the Earthly Delights Garden trying to decide between which shade of lipstick would go well with one of their dresses: Sugar Plum or Midnight Kiss.
Ariel would rather explore a new world. Jasmine would research.
She remembered the time when she began to realize that things were not as rosey pink as they were when she was seventeen. At around twenty five, reality slowly crept it. Ideals she had at eighteen were still very much there but real life factors had a real significance. 'Sacrifice', 'goals', and 'quota' slowly encroached into her vocabulary. Words such as freedom, liberty, and oppression existed but various factors shaped how she viewed them now. It was a lesson that she would learn to grow.
Although on the surface, they looked like they had nothing in common, she could relate to Ariel on some level. Ariel had six sisters. They had to share things.
As Queen of Pride Inc., she too had to share the perks. There were duties and responsibilities. There were also some unsavory truths. One of them being sharing her husband amongst her 'sisters'. It was nothing personal, it was the nature of the beast. She was not the first or the last woman to be a part of such a tradition. In an ideal world, it would not happen but she could not control how other women responded to her husband's charm. On one hand, she considered herself lucky that she was the sole key holder to such a fine catch. She was the primary partner and share-holder. Her and her son's positions were secured and that is what ultimately mattered.
This was a secret she kept to herself. She was in no position to reveal her true feelings. This was a private matter and the jungle of commerce would not account for personal matters. There was no room for that there.
She had her meetings with Zazu.
She tolerated Zazu's puns as he prepared and served her afternoon cappuccino. He started to gain the habit of singing his duties with his off color humor. When he came to the part where he mentioned that her husband would be working late again, she demurely said "That will be all, Zazu."
The afternoon continued with more revelries.
Shere Khan had donated another basket of gifts. This time they were for her. Coconut butter, exotic and expensive soaps, aloe and cucumber scented facial masks and an exfoliating scrub. He was such a gentleman even if she did not see eye to eye with his dealings and business ventures.
Belle wanted to know if there was any way that Sarabi would donate funds to the university library. Sarabi wanted to know what exactly the money would be used for. Belle said 'folk tale research'. Sarabi was not sure until Belle stressed 'far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells' and 'a prince in disguise'. She was going to write a dissertation abut Jungian archetypes and the common themes found in popular medieval folk tales. Sarabi told her she would think about it.
Esmeralda wanted to know if she could contribute a folk dance troupe for the ball. Sarabi gave her the green light.
Sarabi received a frantic text. Simba threw up sick on his aunt who had fed him the diet that Dr. Rafiki specifically prescribed for the baby's upset stomach. Sarabi told Scar that she would make it up to her with a small pay raise.
It was late afternoon after the meetings, planned and unplanned and the day was winding down. While others began to prepare for after work cocktail meetings and dates, Sarabi was winding up. She was going to see her baby. The rule was that 'before sunrise', he was her responsibility.
"Is this a bad time, Queenie?" A voice with a spunky tone shook her out of her concentration.
"Megara! How are you?" Sarabi beamed.
Meg was a student of history who specialized in the classical civilizations. She was transcribing stone blocks from their Greek origin when she applied for the internship.
"Can't complain. I just couldn't help but notice the Pink Sorority going crazy about the dance." Meg leaned against the wall.
"Yes, they are finessing the last details."
"Isn't it a little too late for prom?" Meg raised a brow, her tone was more playful than sarcastic and rude.
"They gave my son a small pony. I felt that I owed them a favor." Sarabi replied.
"How is the little tyke?" Meg walked up. Her long hair swayed behind her like a tail. She wore a lavender tunic dress and sandals.
"He is very well, thank you. He is in love with the winged stuffed horse you gave him."
"Ah, that was all Herc's idea. I wanted to give him his own olive tree but the lug said that it wasn't practical so I gave in." Her boyfriend was a well-known bodybuilder who worked in construction. He was adopted but recently found out that his birth family was wealthy beyond all measure. Instead of resting on his laurels, Hercules became a freelancer doing construction. As a side job, he worked as a neighborhood watchman and guard.
"Oh, how very thoughtful of you but you didn't have to do that. We have enough lavish gifts as it is. I don't wish for you to overtax yourself." Sarabi said warmly.
"Well, I had to return the favor. You gave me a chance when no one else would." Meg replied.
"I don't think our past should determine our destinies. We should not be bound to them." Sarabi said warmly.
Sarabi vaguely recalled Meg's mission statement. She wanted to help her boyfriend. Herc had made a deal and Meg felt that he bit off more than he could chew. She made a deal with a very mysterious figure who offered to give her a serum to help him in exchange for 'personal services'.
The man could only be described as 'devilish' and was well known for his temper. He was always donning deep blues and greys. The man was a known smooth talker, much like a Hollywood agent who makes potential starlets feel like queens by promising them these fortunes only to be used and tossed aside.
He carried himself arrogantly and was a frequent patron of the Hellfire Club, an exclusive club for a rich clientele that paid a hefty fee to be a member of. It was mysterious and reportedly catered to any 'wicked desire' for a price. It was reputable for attracting the 'underworld' elements. She had heard rumors that Shere Khan was a patron. When Sarabi read that tidbit, she could help but feel sympathy for Meg.
"But let's say, hypothetically speaking, you love someone so much and this secret eats you up. Isn't the ethical thing to do is to tell them?" Meg asked.
"Have you told him what happened?" Sarabi queried. "Have you considered the possible answers if you did tell him the truth? Hercules would understand. I don't think he would be angry."
"I didn't think he would care either. I had to come clean to the big lug. I couldn't break his heart and I didn't want this thing haunting me like a black cloud." Meg admitted.
"So he wasn't angry?" Sarabi said with a surprised look.
"He was shocked but he got over that. It was the intent, not the means that mattered to him. He got a little philosophical which helped." Meg smiled.
"Well, that's good."
"Still, sometimes I do wonder what would have happened if I kept that veil of illusion. Most of us do that, anyway." Meg pondered.
"Everyone has their own unique defense mechanism." Sarabi replied.
"What is yours, Queenie?" Meg countered.
"I beg your pardon?" Sarabi replied.
"Do you have any secrets or weaknesses? Any….ruptured discs?" Meg admired the mounted zebra and antelope.
"I worked on my insecurities a long time ago. Every girl does." Sarabi said pointedly. She had a close relationship to 'her girls' but she never really had a very deep conversation such as this one with Meg. She was not one for social functions. She saw them as for the 'feathery pink frills' set. It was not her thing. She was a lot more enigmatic than Snow, Cinderalla, Aurora, Ariel, and even Jasmine. She was always asking questions about ethics and philosophy. For Meg, things were more grey than absolute.
"Wow, I wish we could all do that." Meg admired her.
"It wasn't easy, I will tell you that much. There are no tricks."
Truth be told, there were some things that picked at Sarabi's mind but the secrets were not her own. They were her husband's. The affairs. She knew. The secret was that she tried to repaint and reinterpret them as either a dream or the result of eating bad beef. But the 'clues' were becoming vivid and occurred too often such as mysterious charges that he excused as dinners with other clients that he would not quite name.
"Well, if you don't have any demons, you must see others."
Sarabi filed her papers, trying to distract herself.
"I have…..seen things. It is not my place to judge. Everyone forges their own path."
"I am not speaking about you directly but imagine what a burden in must be to be the holder of all these secrets and no one to tell them too."
Meg began to speak more to herself than Sarabi.
"I mean, imagine being the wife of the guy that stole all that money in New York for years. All those fake investments and bad shares. She was not directly involved but can you imagine? Would anyone give up those excursions to Cancun, realistically?"
"It was certainly tragic as she had no control. But we do not know if she was in the dark or….," Sarabi stopped.
"Or if she…..willingly shut her eyes."
Sarabi held her position. She did not know if Meg suspected anything and she did not want to give her any clues. No one had mentioned her husband's name and there were no accusations of bad investements on her part. Sarabi would treat this conversation as purely hypothetical and nothing more. Still, it was as if Meg was a diviner and saw through her.
"But what do I know? I am just a college kid philosophizing. I don't know about the real world yet," Meg sighed.
"You know more than you than you do. You don't give yourself enough credit." Sarabi replied.
"Nah, it's just me thinking out loud." She looked at a picture of her family. "I know you are the de facto Boss Lady but the other one….yeeesh!"
"Scar has…her way of doing things," Sarabi sighed. It was an open secret that Sarabi's sister in law was not very sociable. She was not likely to be invited to Awards shows. Gala events were another thing.
"Making people cry is her weapon." Meg observed.
"My husband is very close to her. They have a history that I can never penetrate and I do not wish to. It isn't my place. I cannot tell her what to do." Sarabi said morosely.
"She has no reason to angry all the time. Have you seen who she is dating? Grrrrowrrr! Even I am jealous! Sheesh!" Meg emphasized by using her fingers as claws. Sarabi laughed. Shere Khan was certainly handsome and Sarabi hoped that sister in law finally found someone who could….tame her wild heart. And make her smile.
"You are very astute, Meg!"
"I just don't like tooting my own horn. I saw Jazzy looking very miffed. Break up?"
"No, just some issues with some classmates."
"Hmmm, I should take her out. I know this place that has amazing baklava."
"I think she would like that very much."
It was a close call. Sarabi did not wish to dig deeper. Meg was most certainly a mysterious one. She was not like the other girls but in her own way, that was what made her intriguing. She had a history. She did not grow up pampered and with a silver spoon. She saw things from a different perspective. Her tone was pointed and sweetly sarcastic without any malicious edge. Perhaps that was why Sarabi found the conversation pointed.
"Well, I guess I'll leave ya to your queenly duties."
"Be sure to come back more often, Meg. It was good seeing you."
"You too, Queenie. It's been a real slice!" Meg waved goodbye to Sarabi.
It was one of the more unusual conversations she had with one of the girls. She was used to small talk from the 'regulars'. She did not mind sharing an opinion about details for an afternoon tea dress or if she would be willing to donate a few dollars for a small cause. Meg's visit was quite a surprise. She came very close to discovering a very vulnerable truth regarding a very sensitive matter for her. She controlled her responses to the pointed questions and observations. They were just words. Even Meg did find out the truth about Sarabi's less than perfect marriage, Meg wasn't one to talk about scandal when she had her own skeletons in the closet. Sarabi felt that sensitive matters such as those were between the parties involved. There was no need to make a storm in a teacup over a very private matter, a matter that she had chosen to swallow and wash down like bad medicine.
It was in HOW you handled these private matters that demonstrated strength of character.
Sarabi could sympathize with the significant others of politicians but there were times when she wondered if she had more in common with a rock star wife.
It was after five PM. There was a buzz.
"Mrs. Pride, you have a visitor." The voice said.
"I am off now." Sarabi replied.
"They were very insistent."
Sarabi growled. Who would want to see her at this time? Her dossier was full and she had special plans with her son. At last, Sarabi saw who needed her pertinent attention.
It was not a sales person and it was not an aide. It was someone else.
"Bagheera?! What a pleasant surprise!" Sarabi exclaimed.
"Greetings, My Lady. I hope I am not a nuisance."
"Nonsense. It's been a long time, child!" Sarabi greeted the other woman and hugged her. A happy purr was exchanged between the two of them.
"How are things at Khan Industries?"
"They are very well, thank you." The younger woman said between breaths. Not only was she holding her purse, she carried a baby bag…and her son.
"May I see him?" Sarabi beamed. Bagheera held up her baby and gave him to her. The baby cooed gently. "Well aren't you precious?"
"I finally got him to quiet down. He misses his father."
"Baloo must be thrilled. I know he wanted children very badly."
"Oh, he is. He just can't get enough of him." Bagheera's honey colored eyes beamed.
"He must spoil him rotten."
"He does. We have discussed that. He needs to learn self-control. He calls it teaching him the bare necessities. I call it turning Mowgli into the Little Emperor!" Bagheera exclaimed. Sarabi laughed.
"Oh, my husband is the same way. Men."
The two women giggled.
"Before I further waste your time, I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about herbs to make the baby go to sleep. I just cannot get a word in with Baloo. When I can, he's fast asleep!"
"Hmmm, I think I can ask Dr. Rafiki for a favor."
"I greatly appreciate it, Sarabi."
"It is no trouble at all. I am just so glad to see things are going well for you. I remember when you applied her as a young intern."
"And I have you to thank but it looks as though I need your sage advice."
"Come, we must catch up over coffee."
Most overseers never valued the ability to connect with their inferiors. This was a key strategy to gaining influence, especially if one was out of the limelight.
Even if she was part of the upper classes, Sarabi was well loved because of her ability to connect with others. To the 'Princesses', she was like the surrogate mother that they never had. Someone who would listen to them without judgment. To Ariel and Jasmine, she was like a guidance counselor, someone who would listen to them talk and rant about life in general without judgment. With Bagheera, she found another way in which to connect with others on a more personal level.
She had influence not primarily because of wealth and status. It was not because she made bombastic speeches making promises. It was because of how she made others feel important. She had a graceful presence and a no-nonsense approach to problems and she self-sacrificed her own comfort for others.
And that was the mark of a true Queen.