AN:
Okay, so…my first real attempt at FanFiction...Yay! To those of you who have been doing it forever, I hope this gives the form justice. I have altered a few things from the canon to make my creation fit with Disney's, and I will make note of them as the story unfolds.
As we all know, I do not own Lion King. All I do here is dig deeper into the complexities of the characters.
Enjoy and please review!
Look at the stars, Simba.
Obediently, the young lion opened his eyes. A faint breeze played with wayward strands of his mane as he looked up and caught the few remaining pale dots that hovered above him.
"I see them, Father."
The Great Kings of the Past look down on us from those stars.
He had been king for a little over five months.
A king just as rightful as he was unprepared, just as naïve as he was intended. A king who had spent the better part of his life living in a jungle oasis with a meerkat and a warthog singing Hakuna Matata. A king that had returned. Had taken his oath. Had worked towards healing the land of its brokenness. A king that had married. Who had a son.
From his perch on the summit of Pride Rock, Simba looked down over his kingdom, feeling as though he was walking blind on the very edge of a cliff.
"Father, what am I doing?"
They will always be there to guide you.
A red sun was breaking over the horizon. His eyes flickered back overhead, and he watched as the last, shimmering speck was erased from the sky. It happened slowly. A gradual dimming. An easy removal of depth and intensity. The bold light spreading across the heavens was entirely ignorant to the changes it forced upon the innocent landscape that had preceded it. But, even so, as the last star faded, Simba couldn't help the sudden loneliness that struck his heart.
They will always be there to…
The low bray of wildebeest and hippos joined with the early morning chipper of birds calling to one another from across the savanna. The earth shivered awake to the steady, firm stamping of elephant herds and giraffes starting their daily march. The sounds of the savanna came forth in delicate harmony, a familiar, balanced symphony. But at the same time it was loud, obnoxious, each species clamoring for its own attention. The young king could practically feel the soft echoes of his ancestors, the still, small voice of his father being lost somewhere within the noise.
"Father?"
They will always be there…and so will…and so…
The night had been too short.
Feeling the warm sunlight brush the crown of his head, the king released a low sigh.
It was always too short.
"Father…I need you."
With tears clouding his eyes, Simba strained himself for a response. All he got was the faint rush of a warm wind past his face. Day had begun once more, and the Great King he so longed for was silent. Silent as stars.