Thunder rumbled across the plains as the storm rolled towards the west, lighting illuminating the Thelugi Mountains as it went. The last remnants of rain still dripped down their backs, the rocks below them slick and dark. The air rang with an uncomfortable silence.
"What's her deal?" Simba scowled as Zira stormed off, her cubs padding closely behind her. The edges of his lips were curled, revealing sharp white teeth. Weary from battle, soured adrenaline still coursing through his veins, his breaths were shallow and quick, the thick mane running down his neck and chest slick against his slender form. Sarabi couldn't take her eyes off of him. She knew that logically, this couldn't be him. Her son was dead. She knew she should have questioned his appearance, perhaps doubted Nala's word that she had indeed brought back their missing king. But Sarabi knew it was him. Deep down, she knew this was her son. She saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice, even his strange foreign scent held traces of familiarity.
"Don't mind her," Sarabi glared after the lioness, who had dared to argue with Simba's succession. Nobody knew where Kovu had come from, certainly not born from Zira, but it didn't matter. Scar was dead, and horribly so, his carcass dragged in pieces as the hyenas had scampered into the elephant graveyard, or perhaps the outlands. In the days to follow, Sarabi knew they would have to be chased further. The herds, what few remained, wouldn't feel safe with the scavengers skirting their borders. They would come to investigate, Sarabi knew. The animals of the Pride Lands had been driven far from Pride Rock, terrified of being chased for sport, then certainly for food. At each evening fell on the land, Sarabi had listened to nothing but the drone of insects, the usual hoots and distant chatterings of the diverse wildlife hushed by fear. It had grieved her each night. But now that they hyenas were gone in the midst of the roar of new blood, they would be curious. First the birds, and then the reptiles, then likely the rodents. They would come, and if some dared, inquire. It had been a long time since Sarabi had been able to patrol openly as a Queen aught to, as Scar should have, so long since she had spoken with their subjects. News of Simba's return would spread quickly, but Sarabi didn't know what would come next. Nobody did.
She glanced away from her son behind him, at the rest of the pride. Sarafina was licking Nala, who was watching Simba out of the corner of her eye. Sarabi wondered how they had encountered each other, what had been said. There was something between them, the way they glanced at each other, but Sarabi wasn't sure what it was. A secret, certainly. Her son had always had kept plenty of those.
Nala's disappearance had shaken the pride in a way nothing else had in some time. Sarafina had awoken them in tears, and they had searched until Scar's hyenas had corralled them home, demanding that they take to the fields and hunt. They did as they were told, and bitterly so, but no attempt to hunt had been made, and Scar had not eaten that night. His dismissal of Nala's absence had been infuriating. "Inevitable," he'd called it. "She's of that sort."
Nala was of 'that' sort, but it was the sort that every huntress aspired to be. Fierce, driven, and fearless. She had been the one to bring him home, the first to leap to his aid, and the first to defend him against Zira's enraged screams. Sarabi would never forget that.
Shaking the horrific image of her son clinging to the edge of Pride Rock, a sight that had paralyzed her with fear, she turned back to her son, whose gaze had fallen somewhere on the ground, thoughts clearly running through his head. She couldn't imagine what he had been through.
"Son," her voice was hoarse. "We need to talk."
He hesitated, glancing at Nala, who nodded in affirmation. Not back half a day, and the two had already formed a bond of silent communication. This was, the mother already knew, significant. Armed with this, he agreed, and followed her down the steps of Pride Rock and around the corner, the shadow of the great stone icon bathing them in darkness. Satisfied that they had some privacy, she stopped and turned to face him.
"Simba," her voice shuddered with emotion, "what happened to you?"
"Does it matter?" He asked quietly. From the moment he had arrived with a startling roar he had been angry and vicious, his voice shaking with a rage she had never imagined he'd be capable of. Now, he seemed shy and unsure. He was a cub again.
"Of course," she cupped his cheek in her paw. "Of course it does. Simba, please, where did you go, why did you leave?"
"I had to," he shrugged, seeming unconvinced of his own words. "I thought it was my fault."
"You were a sweet little cub, it couldn't have been."
"Yes," his voice gained some ground, "it could have. You thought so yourself, you said 'tell me it's not true.' I-"
"No," she was horrified. "No no no, son, I never ever thought that, I said that because I didn't want to believe you had carried such a guilt for so long. That wasn't your burden to bear, why on earth would you think that? How could anyone think that?"
"It...it made sense at the time." He sighed, looking away.
"You-you were there, weren't you? When he passed?"
"Yeah. I was there. That part is true. I don't really know what parts aren't, though."
"Oh," her heart broke a little more, tearing at the walls of her chest. "Simba, I am so sorry..."
"I could have caused the stampede," he murmured, chewing on the inside of his lip. "It made sense."
"No, no that doesn't make any sense. What roar? You were a tiny little thing. We'll never know what caused the stampede, but it wasn't you. It wasn't. It couldn't have been."
"Scar told me it was." Simba's gaze hardened, his jaw set rigidly, his body tensing in anger. "He told me to run. So, I did."
"So he was there," Sarabi took this in. "I suppose we all questioned his story, but...well," she curtly inhaled. "That doesn't matter right now. The only thing that matters to me right now is you, son. And you're here, and we're together again."
"The lionesses aren't going to accept me."
"Of course they are, they already do. Zira..." Sarabi shook her head with a frustrated sigh. "Zira never quite settled in. None of the others are like her."
"You didn't see how they backed away from me, they're afraid of me. Do they even believe that I am who I say I am? How do they know I'm not? How do you know I'm not?"
"Why are you talking like that? Simba, a mother knows her baby. And this mother's baby," she reached up and felt his mane with her paw, picking a stray shard of stone from his wet hair, "is a little bigger than he used to be. You just startled them, that's all. We'll all get to know each other, things will settle down. It'll be okay."
"Yeah." He didn't seem convinced.
"I'm just glad you're alive, nothing could make me happier than seeing your face again."
"You can thank Timon and Pumbaa," his expression lightened slightly. "They um, took me in."
"Did they?" She glanced up at Pride Rock, where the two had last been seen. "I must thank them."
Sarabi wanted to ask a thousand other questions. Where had he run, had he been safe? Had he been comforted when he cried? Who had taught him to hunt? Had he ever been in love, did he still gaze at the stars? She desperately wanted to know everything about him, but she sensed that he wasn't ready. He was something he had never been: withdrawn. He now carried a protective shell, one that he was curling deeper into with every question. She could feel the years of grief and anger radiating from him. His aura was hot and twisted, undulating with an energy she had yet to understand.
"I'm sorry." His voice was impossibly heavy. "I know I hurt you. I didn't mean to, but, I just...I just didn't think you'd want me back after what happened."
"Simba, look at me." He did, his expression pained. "There is nothing you could ever do to cause me to stop loving you. I have always loved you, and I always will. Never forget that."
Simba's head fell against her shoulder, his mane still damp, though rich with a scent that she knew was his. It reminded her of when he had been little, his small head pressed against her leg. Just the thought of it made her smile sadly. She leaned her cheek into it, nuzzling him. Comforting him.
"I missed you." His voice was muffled against her fur.
"I missed you too, son. Every day."
"I don't know how to do this. He never got the chance to teach me, I can't-"
"You can," she promised firmly. "You're not alone anymore, Simba. You're home. We're your family, and we'll always be there for you."
Above them, the other lionesses looked on with mixed emotions.
"Are you sure that's him?" One of them asked hesitantly.
"You think he's lying, or that I don't know when I'm being lied to?" Nala asked sharply.
"Nala, she has a right to ask," Sarafina reminded her daughter. They were all hurt and exhausted. Years of stress had begun to fray their friendships, and emotions had never been higher. Sarafina had always been a peacekeeper, but her daughter had grown into something of a rebel, and she would be lying if she had said it hadn't caused some tension from time to time.
"He was able to recall specific details about our childhood that nobody else would know," Nala answered. "And I'd know him anywhere."
"Would you? He's just..."
"He's our king," Sarafina stated calmly.
"Besides," another nodded down at the male, who still leaned against his mother. "You really want to turn down an ally like that? I don't care who he is, he can rip a hyena's throat out for me any day."
"I never liked them but that was hard to watch, Naanda admitted, referring to one of Simba's first kills before he'd broken away from the group to confront Scar. None of them knew exactly what had happened between them, only that they had learned of his death only as he was being dragged in different directs, the fight long over. Had Scar fallen, had he been alive when he'd landed? Who had killed him, Simba or the hyenas? These were questions none of them had dared ask. Then, there had been Zira, storming onto the scene after most of the soldiers had scattered. They had been afraid that Simba would attack her, as well. There was something strange about him. They had seen bigger rogues, as he wasn't fully grown, but he had all the rage and ferocity of any lion twice his age. Was he a savior, or trouble? Where had she found him? And why was he followed by a warthog and a meerkat?
Someone hissed that they were coming, and their anxious back and forth chatter stopped as Sarabi and Simba appeared. There was a moment of silence.
"Well," a familiar male voice cleared his throat as a bird landed before their new king. "It's about time, young master."
"Miss me, Banana Beak?" Simba cracked a small smile. It was a smile they all recognized. Sweet, but with a dash of mischief.
"You could say that!" Zazu hid his joy well, feigning contempt. "Things have been quite a mess around here!"
"I can see that," Simba's gaze passed over them. "Well," he clicked his tongue, "I've always been better at making messes than fixing them, but I'll do my best."
"We're glad to have you back, Simba," Sarafina smiled.
Sarabi watched with a joy in her heart that she hadn't felt for some time as the lionesses nuzzled him affectionately. She heard a small scuffle beside her. Looking down, she saw the warthog and meerkat.
"So," the meerkat spoke with a hint of anxiety, "you his mother?"
"I am."
"It's good to see him where he belongs," the little creature nodded, surveying the scene before them with satisfaction, relaxing a bit beside her calm demeanor.
"You two looked after him, did you?"
"We did our best, anyway."
"I owe you, then. The Pride Lands owe you."
"Pssh," he kicked a small rock. "It was nothin,' we loved having him around, and all that. He's a good kid."
"The best," the warthog smiled sadly.
"You two should stay," Sarabi commented. "We don't have much to offer, but I can see how much he cares for you. I know we'd do what we could to help."
"To be honest," the warthog looked at the meerkat, "I don't know if home would really be home without him, do you know what I mean?"
"Yes," she looked back at her son with a smile. "I do."
Author's Note,
Just a little oneshot I threw together, I always wondered what the moments in the quiet after the storm would have been like. Happy Mother's Day!
Cheers!
- Dieren