Sarabi

Chapter 7: Conversations in the Night

Disclaimer: I don't own any original characters; they are the property of Disney's storywriters. I do own the ones you haven't heard of, though. They are mine!!!

Author's Note: I think Sarabi and a few other lionesses look like they don't belong in the Pride Lands. So I came up with a reason, which morphed into a story. Enjoy!

Storm roared at the lionesses and did not answer their questions, neither did he said a word to Aurora as she disbelievingly stared at him, hurt by his decision. She wanted answers, they all did. What they couldn't understand that this was the only hope for survival. Storm was avoiding any sort of conversation because he blamed himself. It was his fault that he strayed out of balance. When one is King, the environment hangs by a thread, a thread that he spins. Like a spider, he has control over it, but he can let it go too far. And that was exactly what Storm had done. The Star Pride grew in size, but the prey failed to multiply with it. Secret tears stung his eyes, because beneath the steely frame of the King, there was a Father about to lose a daughter, and he remembered her birth, and her first smile, the one that was intended just for him. How could he have let the situation come to this? These guilty, underlying thoughts kept him awake until well after nightfall.

It must have been only a few minutes after he had finally fallen asleep that Storm was woken from his slumber by a continuous, irritating sound. It seemed as though the wind blew in a series of ongoing, sharp gusts, shaking the leaves in the trees above. He listened closer, and started, as he understood that it was not the wind at all, but the sobbing of a lioness. The King did not move, but glanced round the sleeping Pride, his eyes had quickly adjusted to the night, and had you been walking there then, my friend, you would have seen two coal bright dots scanning the surroundings watchfully. It didn't take long for him to locate a lioness who was not asleep, whose whole body shook and who tried to keep her crying as quiet as possible. Storm lifted his head up, his black mane made it so heavy that getting up after being asleep was not the easiest thing to do. The grass beneath him rustled, a lioness murmured something in her sleep somewhere, and there was a sudden intake of breath and the sobs subsided. Storm froze. He saw the crying lioness's ears move from round the front of her head to the back: she was listening out if anyone had woken. Her fractured breathing got progressively louder after she made sure all were still sleeping, and smoothly changed to the sobs that woke up the King in the first place. Next to Storm, Aurora was peacefully resting, one paw draped protectively over Sky, the other delicately placed under her chin. After a moment of a contented glance over his mate and his Heir, Storm turned to the direction of the weeping lioness again, and whispered softly into the night,

"Sarabi…"

The crying stopped abruptly, and her head turned to look at Storm; surely enough, it was the Princess, what little moonlight shone down seemed to shine on her, and picked out her brown ear rims, chiselled nose and tear streaked face.

"I…I…" she stammered quietly, still unable to breathe properly, "I'm sorry…I didn't m-mean to wake you, Father."

The moon beamed down on Storm, King of the Star Pride, and the stars of the African Sky channelled their light together to add it to that of the moon, and it illuminated him; but his expression was not angry, or set, or cold, but filled with sadness and gentleness and compassion. This was the side to the King that few knew existed, and even fewer witnessed. This was the Storm who lost his father, who wooed Aurora and who looked lovingly at his daughter, three and a half years ago on the morning after her birth, and now, in the night after she learned she was leaving the Pride.

"Sarabi," he said quietly, in a warm tone that was so unfamiliar to her, "You can cry if you want to."

"I don't," she replied, "But my tears fall nonetheless."

"Umff," muttered a lioness not far from them, about to wake up.

"Some are sleeping here," said another groggily.

Silently, Storm got up, so noiselessly that Aurora carried on dozing. He majestically stretched, and straightened out, and motioned for his daughter to follow.

Two lions walked together that night, the sky so vast and sparkling that it made the most noble King small and humble, and the crickets serenaded its beauty, and the night flowers bloomed beautifully, sending out their scent for many miles out, intoxicating the other plants, animals and all.

"You don't want to leave?" he asked.

"Yes," she agreed, "Father, this is my home. I love my mother and brother. I love Acacia Gardens and the watering hole. I love the hunt. I love my lands."

"For these lands to continue, for your mother and brother to live, for the Gardens to grow and for the watering hole to be full, for the prey to be hunted, you must do this, Sarabi."

"I have noticed," she sighed, "Food is fewer now. We have exhausted the lands."

"But they can be replenished, in time." Storm looked around him thoughtfully, "Nothing is forever, my precious girl, I want you to learn that."

"It's not," she agreed grimly.

The faraway ringing of the mighty river crashing through the rocks in its path echoed in the night's dark expanse, and the air was tinged with beginnings, moments, and endings. Night Butterflies danced through the tall grassy reeds, living for the moment, which, Sarabi knew as she watched them fly, would not last forever at all. Within a few weeks they will die, all the joy that they feel this night gone, as though it was never really there. With the coming and going of the seasons, the very grass that Father and Daughter, King and Princess, rested on, would die and be reborn. Nothing is certain, nothing is the same, and nothing lasts. The Princess turned her attentive and pensive gaze to her Father now, who was in his prime, a strong, powerful King. But there would come a time when he too, will pass away, just like the butterflies, just like the grass. What was the point, she thought, if we join this circle, only to live, feel pain as our loved ones leave, and leave ourselves?

"It's not at all," she repeated, with a sigh, her voice barely heard over the crickets' strings symphony.

"I'm sorry about Dusk," said Storm after a pause.

"That too," she snapped, "You wanted me to learn that nothing lasts by sending him away from me? I don't even know how he is, where he is, if he is…"

"He is," revealed Storm, "He has a small nomadic pride and a daughter. The birds have been telling me he is happy, Sarabi."

So Dusk did not wait for her. He did not want to see her again. He was with some lioness who made him happy, who curled up to him at night to keep him warm, who kissed him whilst looking at the sunset, who brought him a daughter…He was having the life Sarabi dreamed of sharing, but he was sharing it with someone else. She could feel the lump in her throat rise, and her eyes brim with tears. She blinked and looked away.

"He wants you to be happy too."

"I am happy that he is happy," she said sounding not very happy at all.

Storm leaned in to nuzzle her but she backed away. There was an unbearable hush, save the sounds of the night, which now became more apparent. The King was hurt, but those crafty thoughts that did not let him have a moment's peace taunted him. She hates you, they sneered, she despises you…

"Do you love me?" he asked in a smaller voice. Her silence made him uncomfortable. Even the greatest kings fear things: some - death, others - enemies, and some - that their child bears no love for them.

"I was afraid of this," he continued, "That I would keep you away. That you will not love me. That you will see the King, and not the Father."

She turned to face him, unbelieving what she was hearing,

"You were so cold to me! Before Sky was born, I would only speak to you about the business of ruling Star Pride. After his birth, you spoke less to me, only when you needed to. You sent away my love, then you exchanged me for land! You were always concerned with the state of affairs, with tradition, and never with me. The question that you ask of me is one that I should be asking of you!"

He remained silent, contemplating her words.

The tear stains were still moist on her face.

"I know you have great potential of being a remarkable Queen, Sarabi. You are wise and determined, you are the best huntress this Pride has ever known and you have a big heart that is capable of love and loss and loyalty. Here you have no hope. I am giving you this chance."

"Chance?" she asked coldly.

"To the Pridelands Dawn, Eve, and you will go. Dawn is strong, Eve is an excellent hunter, and you are a Princess."

Sarabi could see where this was going. She didn't know what to think or say.

"You will marry Prince Mufasa, Sarabi. You will rule the Pridelands with him when the time comes."

"When do I leave?" she asked in a calm, frosty voice that sounded alien to her.

"With the new moon," replied the King simply.

Sarabi looked up to the heavens, and her only hope of reuniting with Dusk was dwindling with the waning moon. But with the knowledge she received from her father, she was now unsure whether she was sorrowful and trying to get back the past, or anticipating and willing to embrace the future.