The Lion King: Trolofven i Mig
Finger by finger, dawn crept over the horizon. None of it yet managed to crawl into their den, their mighty home in the rocks, nor did it yet disturb the birds nesting silently in the trees.
And yet they stood out in force, as silent and motionless as their stone home. Misted breath briefly manifested before their snouts, only to disappear again just as quickly. Dew collected on several brows, but they didn't move to brush it off. Not even the mightiest one among them, the one with the red mane and the face that reflected his father's.
Simba, son of Mufasa. King of Pride Rock. The Lion King.
And the one standing in front of him, just far enough away to be a distinct being, yet close enough to be protected if it came to violence—that was Kopa, son of Simba, Prince and heir to Pride Rock.
A smile nearly touched the Lion King's lips. Even before dawn, even though he was still a child, he was as motionless as the rest of them. As motionless as the stone.
And then they appeared, clambering one by one up the rocks to meet the King. They rendered the appropriate courtesies well enough and Simba received them well enough. But neither he nor his wife, safely seated at his side, could help but bare their teeth at the dust and vermin their foul footsteps brought with them.
The newcomers took their positions. From within their ranks a young woman stepped forward to be appraised by the Lion King and his son.
This was the part they had rehearsed so many times. This was the part Kopa never quite got right. This was why there were shock troops hidden behind secret parts of Pride Rock, positioned just right to break the newcomers' formation.
"Prince Kopa, Prince Kopa," she said, "will you be betrothed to me? For that, I offer you gifts gladly, but you must answer yes or no, if you wish to or not."
As custom demanded, Kopa didn't respond. As custom demanded, she detailed her first offering.
"To you I will give these twelve zebras. They are unspoiled and uneaten and, if you wish, they're yours."
As custom demanded, Kopa didn't respond. Unshaken, she detailed her second offering.
"To you I will give twelve acres of land. They are my ancestral home, prime hunting grounds for your future pride."
Kopa still didn't respond. And now there was hardness in the newcomers' eyes, a sort of sharpness that made Simba shift just a little bit of his weight forward.
"To you I will give a great alchemist." Her voice quavered just a little. "He will geld your teeth so that your enemies may shiver before you in battle."
Kopa didn't speak. Didn't move a muscle. Now it wasn't just the Lion King who had adopted a more aggressive posture.
"To you I will give a flag so new, emblazoned with the face of your forefathers, made from the finest white silk."
The tone of her voice was practically begging him. But Kopa remained a stone even as he spoke.
"Gladly would I accept these gifts," he said, "if you were a true lioness. However, you are the worst mongrel, with origins shadowed in ash and dust."
Every word was a weapon, designed to cut and shield all at once. It was all true, everyone knew it, but it was a truth delivered plainly, harshly.
The newcomers glanced around at the lions. They were smaller, it was true, but there were more of them. A lot more.
And yet when the tears began to stream down the face of their would-have-been princess, their shoulders and their postures relaxed.
One by one, they left Pride Rock. One by one, the sun chased their foul footsteps away. And, one by one, the lions knelt before their Prince, their King, their sun.