"You okay?" He panted, seeing that her cheek was pressed against the bark.

"Yes," she moaned, leaning into his thrusts. "Oh, just a little faster..." He gripped the side of the tree with one paw to anchor himself with the other around her waist, and thrust harder, wincing as his muscles burned. He was exhausted, and his strength was waning fast. The scars across his body pinched with each push. He froze when he noticed her head had turned to look at him.

"What's wrong?"

"You tell me," she answered breathlessly. "Are you okay?" It was only then that he realized that he'd gone soft. Again. Silently cursing his useless member, he lowered himself to embrace her, tenderly nuzzling the soft spot under her jaw the way she liked.

"I'm sorry," he spoke softly, "I'm just a little tired, it's nothing." He could sense that she knew he was lying, but he could also read the tension in her body. She was close. He only needed to keep the momentum up for another few minutes. He licked her cheek, and she understood, allowing him to continue. He mustered up the energy to press deeper into her, pushing out all other thoughts besides the curves of her body. He thought about her blue eyes, the softness of her stomach, the strength of her muscles. He thought about the wet warmth between her legs, and focused on her breathy gasps as she grew closer. To his relief, he felt himself harden with instinctual anticipation. He strained the last ounce of energy out of his weary muscles, blindly focusing on the satisfying sounds of her mounting pleasure as he struggled to stoke his own.

As he heard her telling exclamation and felt her insides pulsate when her pleasure climaxed, he felt his body instantly wilt with exhaustion, and a dull pain settled between his legs as he pulled out and collapsed in the grass beside her.

"Are you done?" She caught her breath and looked at him with concern.

"Yeah," he forced a smile and patted her leg. "Just didn't happen tonight. Don't worry about it."

"Well, I can help," she leaned forward.

"Nah," he nuzzled her before leaning back and looking at the stars peeking through the thick canopy of the grove. Around them, the thick bushes and tangled thickets rustled in the night breeze. "I think I'm done, I'd rather just enjoy this."

"I'm starting to worry," she settled on her back next to him, leaning against his arm, her head nestled in his mane. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just, you know, the scars still hurt."

"I don't think that's it," she mused quietly.

"Nala," he closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about that. Not tonight."

"If I don't push you," she nudged him gently, "you never will."

"I know," he took a measured breath. "I just...I don't want to talk about it. Besides, it's not just that, it's just...my mind is always in several places at once. I'm sorry it's affecting you, but I don't know how to fix it."

"Simba," she sat up and looked down at him, "if I thought that you truly didn't want another cub, I wouldn't bring it up like this."

"You think it's something else?" He rose an eyebrow.

"I think you're afraid of replacing him."

This hit him harder than he expected. He wanted to insist that he wasn't that childish, that he knew no child could ever replace his son, but no words came out. As much as he hated to admit it, Nala might be right. He had been open to the idea of adding another cub or two to their family, but then Kion had left the Pride Lands with little warning. Drawn to some far-off place called Hakima Steppe by the great kings of the past. Bidden by destiny. Without the Roar of the Elders to defend the king, Zira hadn't waited long before launching her plot to overthrow him. Overwhelmed by anger, grief and fear, Simba had shut out any thoughts of bringing more children into the world, and Nala had agreed that it wasn't a good time. It was the last they spoke of it for months.

Now that a full season of peace had passed, and the lands were replenishing under the blessings of a fruitful wet season, she had surprised him by bringing the subject back to light. All of his previous reasons for refusing were now moot. The lands were plentiful, the Pride Lands were at peace with every community they touched, and the pride was unified and strong. He and Nala were both healthy, and still young. The stars couldn't have aligned more perfectly.

And yet, he struggled to come to terms with this information. Nala was right, something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. She wasn't even in heat, but he still couldn't bring himself to orgasm despite his best efforts. Sex had always been a welcome relief from the stresses of his life, whatever they happened to be. A time for him to forget the world and join his mate in carnal bliss. Now, his life was easier than it had been in a long time. Why now, then, was he struggling to separate from his anxieties?

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "Maybe there's just something wrong with me."

"I don't think anything is 'wrong' with you," she ruffled his mane. "But I think it's something we need to talk about, when you're ready."

"You know it isn't you," he looked at her, "right?"

"I suppose that's comforting to hear," she nuzzled him. "But can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever had this problem before?"

"No," he admitted with a touch of embarrassment. "Not really."

"Well," she laid back down, "If there's anything you do want to talk about, I'm here."

"I know," he licked her cheek, and they cuddled together. He closed his eyes, and held her, brushing his concerns away and focused on slowing his breathing. After all these years, some of Rafiki's meditation suggestions were beginning to make sense.

Nala watched his ribs gently rise and fall with each breath, his mane shifting slightly in the cool breeze as he drifted off to sleep. She rested her chin on his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent as they rested. Her stomach full and her mind at ease, she let her thoughts wander.

She remembered their first night together. Neither of them had predicted it. After all, in a way, they barely knew each other anymore. They had both changed so much. But after hours of lying so close, their laughing had turned to nuzzling, and before she knew it, she was on her back with his deep chest close to hers, his mane caressing her fur, his breath soft and warm in her ear, and she wanted to have him. To feel her desires requited sparked an elation that was addicting. Nala had always been valued for her skills, her tireless hunting, her quick thinking. Her survival. To be lusted after for her beauty, her personality, the parts of her that she'd never shared with anyone else, produced a deep and primal ecstasy that she wanted to feel over and over.

When they'd both realized that she wanted him and that he wanted her, time had blurred, and they'd made love under the canopy of the trees. It had been her first time, and she remembered that, even in the heat of the moment, she was surprised at how intense the act was. Of course she knew what sex entailed, but the open mating of the gazelles and other herd animals that were publicly witnessed as a mundane aspect of the circle of life had led her to believe that sex between two of her kind would be similar, somehow. Ritualistic, instinctual. The primal parts that made him male and made her female, she was prepared for. What she hadn't been prepared for was his tongue.

"What are you doing?" She looked between her legs as he slid down and opened his mouth.

"Shh," he'd cracked a smile, "just tell me if you don't like it."

She remembered not even having time to open her mouth before his hot, rough tongue slid inside her, sparking a flame of pleasure that was completely novel. As his tongue massaged the most tender, sensitive parts of her body, she felt the skin under her fur blush as her insides grew wet. When he pulled his tongue out, she bit back a moan. He climbed over her, and she remembered shamelessly feeling his shoulders and chest, admiring his healthy masculine build.

"Just thought I'd warm you up a little. You ready?" He'd whispered.

"Yes," she'd pulled him closer, eager to feel more pleasure. She expected him to turn her over, but he didn't. He gently pushed himself inside her while she was on her back, their quickened heartbeats close together. It had never occurred to her that her kind could make love this way. It was erotic, but also deeply intimate. They weren't mating, they were making love. She had never known there was a difference until that moment. There was eye contact, there was nuzzling, his breath in her ear. She had expected the thrusting, and the occasional twinge of pain. She hadn't expected the caressing, the breathy gasps, the feeling of melting into another body, the intense white hot pulsating of climaxing pleasure.

She remembered gripping the back of his neck firmly as she came, holding on to him as she rode the waves of after-pleasure. Her head in his large paw, he nuzzled her forehead and began to pull himself back.

"Wait," she panted. Despite her inexperience, she knew that he wasn't finished yet. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me," he'd smiled. "Tonight's about you."

"No," she pulled him closer, hooking her hind legs around his pelvis. "Don't worry, I'm not in heat."

"I don't want you to regret taking a risk that-" his voice cut short as she thrust her hips against his, and felt him grow harder inside her.

"Shh, just tell me if you don't like it," she winked, and pulled him towards her. He didn't need more prompting.

It felt good to be wanted, she'd thought, closing her eyes and enjoying his tense, pleasured pants. To know that she was attractive and desirable. To engage in a way that purely for pleasure, not to survive or rest.

But somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted, this was not the lovemaking of two inexperienced youths. Though it was her first time, some part of her realized that Simba was too relaxed, his motions too rehearsed. He knew her body before he'd even touched her. It had never occurred to her to ask him if he was a virgin, or question whether she had assumed he was, or if she just didn't care in the moment. She'd dismissed these thoughts, not wanting to break their bubble of thoughtless passion. Just for a night, she wanted to cast aside her worries and apprehension. Simba was right; tonight was about her.

Looking back, Nala saw that night in a different light than she had at the time. Of course it was silly to think that an attractive unsupervised male free of obligations would have remained chaste. What seemed like selfless, innocent lovemaking had in time revealed itself to be part of a more complicated dynamic, one that Nala would soon realize was a very tangled relationship Simba had with affection. In brief, his physical intimacy did not beget his emotional intimacy.

She was initially surprised and a a little hurt when she'd realized that, even after their physical union, he was difficult to communicate with, and remained private about his deeper thoughts and past experiences. He stubbornly refused to let her in. At first, she'd felt used. Had he really only wanted to have sex with her? The thought stung, but had to be considered. In response, she'd retreated, and was surprised when he chased after her. He wanted her, and yet, he didn't. Or so it seemed.

It had taken months of bickering, months of being pursued only to feel emotionally rejected, for her to piece together what was going on.

Simba had been cut off from the communal love, safety and affection of the pride at a young age. Overnight, he'd gone from being the pride darling to being scared, alone and traumatized. She realized that he had a close bond with Timon and Pumbaa, but it was an entirely new sort of dynamic that hadn't replaced what he'd lost.

When he'd gotten older, he found himself at the receiving end of the interest of other felines his own age. Lionesses and yes, he'd admitted, leopards who wanted to lick his wounds and nuzzle under his chin. Soft feline bodies that wanted to be close to him. The resulting symbiosis was a perfect storm. The sex not only felt good for both of them, but provided him with someone to sleep next to, somebody who made him feel wanted and in turn, didn't demand the emotional nakedness that Nala was expecting of him. Simba had been using casual sex to substitute for the pride bond he craved. Lions, after all, are not meant to live alone.

Sometimes it was confusing trying to work with a lion who, though he was much more experienced socially in ways that she wasn't, was so inexperienced and clumsy when it came to basic emotional intimacy. He truly didn't know how to express all of his thoughts, it had never been asked of him before. His frustration at being unable to accurately convey what was bothering him was, at first, almost childlike. There were times when it felt like she was courting two different lions. One was suave, confident and fun. The grown-up version of the Simba she knew. The other was a nervous, stubborn and distant remnant of the cub who'd had everything torn from him and was still struggling to make sense of the world.

Nala had brought her own emotional scars into the relationship. Her recurring fears of abandonment manifested in the persistent worry that she'd wake up and Simba would be gone. She wanted to trust him, and knew that this fear hurt him, but she was unable to shake the feeling that good things never lasted. When the Pride Lands began to replenish, she still struggled to accept that there was enough food, and was constantly itching to return to the fields and hunt and provide. Even when she ate, she struggled to eat more than the morsels she'd been allowed during Scar's reign. Of all the lionesses, she had been one of the last to put on weight again, a source of insecurity in its own right. But, together they had both grown stronger and matured, moving forward with more trust, confidence and love each passing season.

Their sex life had highs and lows like any relationship, but there had always been more highs than lows. Things had only begun to change when Kion left the Pride Lands, and Zira had pushed Kovu into their lives. Simba had cracked under the increasing pressure, becoming withdrawn and argumentative. Nala had tolerated his hostility and stubbornness because she knew that under the thick shell he'd shrunk into, he only knew fear, and trusted that it, like all things, would pass. He lived in the fear his children, his mate, his mother, that everyone he loved might be killed. The fear that he himself might be killed. Under the weight of having to wake up every day and patrol the border knowing that Zira could ambush him. They took reasonable measures to ensure that everyone was safe, but they could only do so much. When the ambush they'd been dreading actually happened, he'd been lucky to escape alive.

The end of the war with Zira's pride still left much to be mended. Their pride was cooperating, but they were a long way away from trust. Those of Zira's pride who hadn't left to find a fresh start remained more for the stable protection that Simba provided than for any bonds they'd made. In their down time, the lionesses usually kept themselves segregated. Zira's lionesses hadn't forgiven Simba's lionesses for supporting their exile, and Simba's lionesses hadn't forgiven Zira's lionesses for trying to kill their beloved king.

Now, with the constant fear of violence now no longer draped across their shoulders, Nala had tried to rekindle their intimate life. While there had been a brief honeymoon period of eager lovemaking, it hadn't lasted long. Simba's anxieties had caught up to him, and he was still struggling to find his new normal.

She thought about when their children had been cubs. Life had been good then. Zira was but a minor threat, Kiara was fully embracing her role as heir, and Kion had found a sense of purpose with his Lion Guard, eagerly helping his father fend off minor threats and honing his skills. Simba had been able to fulfill all the duties expected of him while still making time for his family, and Nala had been able to fully enjoy her role as queen and leader of the hunting parties knowing that everything else was handled. Back then, they had been their best selves. Simba had been patient, humorous, and gentle-natured, and she had felt a peace and joyfulness that she hadn't experienced since Mufasa's reign. Even now that life was slowing down, Simba remained distant and a little moody, and she found herself unable to fully relax without glancing over her shoulder. Not to mention the sorrow they both felt over Kion's absence.

Nala and Sarafina had urged Simba and Sarabi to try and reach out to the great kings, but Simba hadn't been able to contact his father in a long time, and seemed reluctant to continue trying. Nala knew that reaching out and feeling rejected by his father was a painful process for him, and she didn't want to cause him more distress. As for Sarabi, she seemed uncomfortable with the subject, saying that she preferred to join Mufasa when the time was right.

A thought struck the queen. There was something she wanted to try. She stood, taking care not to disturb her mate. He frowned in his sleep, ever so slightly. Satisfied that he hadn't woken, she gingerly began to pick her way out of the overgrown thicket.

"Mmpgh," she heard him stir groggily. "Thirsty?"

"I'm just stepping out for a little bit," she smiled at him over his shoulder. "I'll be right back."

"Everything okay?" He rubbed his face with the back of his paw.

"Absolutely."

Satisfied with her answer, he nodded and quickly fell back asleep. She had to smile. For all his faults, her mate really did mean well. He was the most stubborn animal she'd ever met, but he was also the kindest. He was clearly worn out and exhausted, his tattered body still healing from Zira's attacks, but he'd still managed to be an attentive lover, and he would have followed her out of the thicket if she'd asked for his company or protection. For now, she wanted him to rest.

Once she reached the small clearing she'd been looking for, she sat, and took a deep breath. She wanted to be in the right headspace before she tried. She slowed her breathing, and thought about her connection with the great kings. Admittedly, it was weak at best. Her mate and children had a direct bloodline to the past leaders of the Pride Lands. She, however, had never known her father, and her mother certainly wasn't descended from royalty. But she tried her best anyway. Clearing her throat, she spoke.

"Mufasa?"

Silence. A breeze rustled through the leaves of the surrounding trees. She tried again.

"Mufasa?" Perhaps there was another tie she could try.

"Queen Uru?" She took a deep breath as another thought occurred to her. "...Kion?"

She breathed a sigh of relief when her call was met with more silence. However, she soon felt a tug of frustration.

"Isn't there anyone I can talk to?" She called out. "Anyone at all?"

"That depends," a voice sounded, "Are you ready to listen?"

"Who are you?" She recognized the voice.

"We've met," a dark figure materialized. Nala snarled as her heart pounded and a pit formed in her stomach.

"Scar!"

"It's Taka now, young queen."

"What are you doing here?"

"Answering a call."

"I didn't call you! I'd never call you!"

"Nala, truly I mean you no harm," Taka spoke calmly. It wasn't the reptilian, calculated calmness she knew him for. It was...peaceful, she realized. Something had changed. "You called unto the heavens, and have been answered. The great kings do not make mistakes."

"You're not a great king. You were a monster."

"True, but I was a king, and have served my penance in the afterlife. There is much the living have to learn about the dead."

"Why are you here?"

"Simba and Mufasa have a bond that unites them, it connects them like a ray of sun from the clouds to the grass. Mufasa was but a brief season passing in your life."

"You and I have no connection," she stepped back. "I'm glad you died."

"My death brought you peace, and for that I cannot blame you. But let me ask you something, Nala. Between myself and my brother, who did you spend more time with? Which one of us did you truly know better?"

"I hated you."

"But we had a connection. You fed me, and I forbid the hyenas and rogues from touching you. I was cruel, but I wanted you to live, Nala. We depended on each other."

"I didn't need you!" Her voice rose indignantly. "You needed me! You needed us! You depended on us, and when we drove your filthy army out, we thrived."

"All true. Nala, I wouldn't expect your forgiveness. But you needn't enjoy my company to hear what I have to say."

"I don't know if I want to hear anything you have to say, Scar."

"I've been watching your son, Nala. That's what you want to speak about, isn't it? Your son Kion, the one who possess a mighty roar?"

"You stay away from him!" She growled.

"Your hatred for me is surpassed by your love for your son. And," he added, "your mate."

"If you reveal yourself to Simba, I'll find a way to reach into the clouds and tear you down so I can kill you myself."

"Your acceptance of me presence is not something I would expect of my nephew. Not yet."

"You're a manipulative, miserable old-"

"Great changes are coming to your home, Nala. The great kings ask that you prepare."

"Nala!" She turned in surprise to see Simba appear, likely awoken by her angry shout. "What's wrong?"

"It-it's Scar," she looked back up at the apparition. Simba followed her gaze.

"I don't see anything. Nala, what are you talking about?" He looked back at her. "Did you have a nightm-"

"No!" She gestured in exasperation. "I didn't have a nightmare and I'm not crazy, he's here!"

Simba again looked at the sky and back at his mate in confusion.

"He can't see me," Scar spoke calmly. "This is between us."

"Just leave!" She squeezed her eyes shut.

"What?" Simba took a bewildered step back.

"Heed the great kings, Queen Nala," Scar's figure dissipated. "Adieu."

"Nala, you need to talk to me, what the-"

"Scar was there," she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "He was there."

"I believe that you saw him," he spoke slowly. "I do. Nala, I believe you. I'm just trying to understand what exactly happened."

"I-I tried to talk to Mufasa, or anyone," she found herself fighting back tears. "But he came instead. He said he's repented. That's he's Taka now."

Simba considered his next words carefully. She could tell that he had a hundred questions, but wanted to refrain from overwhelming her. He looked confused, but also angry. Even a little scared.

"Seeing him must have been hard," he spoke finally. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"He told me that Kion's alive," she shook her head. "That's all I wanted to know."

"Did hearing that help?"

"I don't know," she admitted. He gently sat next to her, and rested his chin on her head. She leaned against his chest, feeling his pulse beating under his mane, and they sat in silence.

Author's Note:

I, like many (but certainly not all!) of you consider the Lion Guard to be semi-canon. I've included Kion as an integral part of the story, but I don't believe many of the events of the show could occur in the setting created by the original film and it's sequel (which I think we all have our qualms with). Simba and Nala never would have allowed their cub to face hyenas and crocodiles, though I don't see why Kion's Roar of the Elders can't be considered canon, as the films have established a clear spiritual element with lots of room for creativity and adaptation. Destiny is a strong theme in both films. So I've included Kion's Lion Guard in the backstory, and have built on Kion's relationship with those in the afterlife. However, I believe that the Lion Guard would have been only charged with handling minor disputes and small missions that didn't endanger the members. As the members of the Guard aged, their responsibilities naturally would have grown to match their abilities, but never surpass the king and queen's duties.

To account for Kion's absence in the second film (as well as Simba's uncharacteristically rash and erratic behavior) I, like many authors, can only assume that he was called away by Mufasa or another ancestor during the events of Simba's Pride. This also provides further motivation for Zira to act when she did.

As for Simba's life in the jungle, my portrayal of him as less than innocent comes from the line in the first film where Simba tells his father that he is "not who [he] used to be." It's a clear admission of shame and guilt. Simba's guilt lines up with his impression that his father's blood is on his paws, and doesn't need further explanation. But Mufasa knows that Simba had nothing to do with his murder, yet Mufasa's response that Simba is "more than what [he has] become" is spoken with clear distaste. I think Mufasa's disappointment in his son was about more than just taking it easy. After all, Simba genuinely didn't know that anything was wrong back in the Pride Lands, he thought Scar would be a fair ruler. From this I've inferred that Simba did have something to be ashamed of. I think Simba lacked direction growing up in the jungle, and likely considered himself a lost cause, leading him to engage in behaviors that he wouldn't otherwise have considered because he felt he morally had nothing left to lose. Others may disagree with this interpretation, and I completely respect that. However, if this take on the film bothers you, you'd best not read further, because this isn't the last time Simba's past will be brought to light.

Naturally, I've taken some liberties with some of the characters in an effort to maintain continuity, especially Nala, who we really don't know much about beyond the first film. I think her portrayal as a submissive wife was out of character, and have done my best to mend this and maintain her headstrong and clever personality, while allowing her to age and soften.

I know exactly where I want to take this story. It has a beginning, and middle, and an end. However, if there's a character you want to appear, let me know! I'd be happy to add them as events unfold, and am looking forward to seeing the final form this fic will take.

Cheers!

- Dieren