We Are Like the Earth and Sky

Birds scattered from the treetops as a large, fur-heavy head swung up and nearly got entangled in the lowest branches. It had been several months, and this was one of the many things the Crown Prince disliked about leaving the savanna.

That was not on Simba’s mind, or reflected in his square face, when he caught a sound his perked ears could never miss: one of his cubs calling for him. ”Kiara?” Warm voice was hushed with concern, With a golden rush and bundle, the lion’s body whirled around and crashed through brush and brambles in the direction of the voice.

The son of Mufasa’s big heart was immediately thumping like a stampeding rhinoceros. He always felt that instant mixture of anxiety and desperation to fill whatever need any of the Royal trio voiced. Nala probably felt it too, judging by her quick, motherly reaction time. So did Faline and Bambi when it came to Geno or Gurri.

This was different,

The caravan had just been attacked. Zira, loyal claws of Uncle Scar, hater of his father and family, had struck, and their army had been hurt. It felt unbelievably personal, and Simba had more than one nightmare about finding her long, crooked maw, grinning and bloody, standing over—

—no. Now wasn’t the time to think of that. He’d woken up last night to find Nala safely breathing beside him and all three children, like the fuzzy varying shades of a sunrise, clumped nearby. It would be the same now. Even if Kiara wasn’t all right, and she was calling because she was in danger, because some creature had gotten into the Great Forest and found her all alone...he would get there in time. He would help her, protect her, or—

Simba skidded to a stop just as Kiara’s scent and voice hit him again from just past the next corpse of tree trunks. Amber eyes could see his daughter, a twinkling sunbeam under the green canopy, now. She wasn’t in danger. She was safe. Of course she was. He slowed his breathing. What was he thinking? What did Bambi always say—a Prince thinks before he acts. Or something like that. His antlered brother would be rolling big deer eyes at him right now.

Simba breathed in quietly through his nose and fixed his face. She might not be hurt, but she looked worried. He couldn’t show her how easily rattled her daddy could be nowadays. She was going to take over the throne some day—she didn’t need to take on this part of it, yet. The worry and anxiety that he hadn’t learned to shoulder quite so well as Mufasa.

”Hiding?” The tone was his regular, fatherly-mischief brand when Simba ducked into the clearing behind Kiara. ”From you? Huh, I hope not. After all those hunting lessons with your mother, I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that nose.” When he reached her, Simba bumped his own snout against the she-cub’s small perfect one.

Red mane bounced when he leaned upright and showed her a more serious face. He couldn’t hide the twinkle in one yellow eye, though, however much the Princess liked to be treated as an adult these days. She really was his daughter—he saw that worry in the swoop of his own eyebrows every time he bent to take a drink. Now it was looking up at him. Simba had disliked the effect this war was having on his kids as many times as there were Great Kings in the night sky, but that wouldn’t help anything. Right now she needed him for something. ”What’s wrong, Kiara?”

Plague

The serious look wilted a little into unease on Simba’s face as Kiara answered his question. He’d been able to try and forget about his nightmares while looking at her, just for a heartbeat. He turned his head, almost shaking it negatively but hesitating.

Wow. She was thinking about all...this. She shouldn’t have to. His little sunrise of a daughter, with her Nala-soft lines and beautiful eyes like her grandfather’s. Worried about a war. The same old resentment against Zira had the dad’s tone coming out a bit more frustrated when she asked if she should be doing something. ”No—no, it’s not...”

But she kept right on, the words like a mudslide out of her tiny mouth. Kiara had been mulling this over between those sweet little ears for a while, it sounded like.

She was the princess, yes, and he understood that. He understood having the weight of something you had always known but never really had experience with hanging over your head your whole life, a second mane ready to drop and cover you in the scary future. This he could try and help with. Simba’s face barely had time to soften out of irritation with his far-off evil relatives and into understanding before she said something that snapped all other thoughts out of the Prince’s head.

”And I can’t take her on! She’d eat me alive!”

Sudden alertness drove Simba’s ears and eyebrows forward and launched a lash into his tail. He looked sharply at his daughter and spoke right over her last words. ”No! Kiara, you’re never going to ‘take Zira on.’ She’s not getting anywhere near you. Is that what you’ve been thinking?”

He shut his eyes, trying to take a deep breath and feel a little less rattled. But when he did, the image from his nightmare was there, bloody and grinning, and he looked up again quickly. The golden jaws sighed. He knew how rambunctious Bambi’s daughter, Gurri could be. He knew that Kopa didn’t take the dangers of this world seriously. He couldn’t have Kiara going that way, too. Was she really thinking of having to join the fight? Was her cub mind that close to doing something dangerous? He had to get it out of her head. Cubs with visions of glory for the throne wound up at the bottom of a gorge in the path of thundering hooves.

With difficulty, Simba regained a little composure. It was hard not to melt out of frustration, feeling his daughter’s cute, perfect little head buried against him. And that smile. She looked just like Nala, trying to help him convince Sarafina to let her go play before he’d grown his mane.

So the lion prince’s frown slipped up into a reluctant return grin. He sighed. All right. Maybe that was a bit of an overreaction. After all, she did seem like she was trying to make sense of this, not pick a fight out of restlessness. That was...more than a step in the right direction. His tail flicked in thoughtfulness. That was maturity.

Just like that, Pride was warming through Mufasa’s son. She would make a great Queen. Someday.

”All right,” Simba purred, returning the big cat head-hug. ”I guess that would make sense—“

His voice leaned into somewhere between scolding and playfulness. The future King bopped his snout forward, roughly tipping his daughter off of him and nudging her over one of his forearms and onto her back. He looked smugly down at her. ”Except that I’m first in line, remember?” He stood up and laughed, anticipating the take-me-seriously expression she usually had. It was also very cute.

Nala would be better at this. Queenly advice. But Simba couldn’t help lightening the mood he himself had lost a moment ago—it drove his point home further. Kiara wanted to know what she should be worrying about. He wanted her to know the answer was nothing. Not yet. ”Your mother and I will take care of Zira. Hopefully long before she comes anywhere near here.”

The fire-colored eyes looked out in the vague direction of the Outlands for a moment. Simba shook himself before he could drop into another fantasy about teaching his crazy Aunt a lesson.

”Your duty, until then, is to lead...here. In the Great Forest. Learn what it means to be future Queen...” He searched for the words, blinking, ”...outside of the war.” That was where he wanted her. Out of the fight. And that was where they’d all be, by the time she was Queen—back at Pride Rock, with the war safely behind them. Great Kings, he hoped so.

”Who're you calling little?” Simba's smile was splitting his whole snout. He batted at his daughter as she clambered along him. The feeling of those little paws against his fur was bliss for the sunny father.

He hoped Mufasa had been similarly satisfied too, long ago, when he was the one wading through a thick crowning mane. Was there any way Kiara felt as tall as cub Simba had, the only animal in the Pridelands allowed to ride the great King like the rhino to their tickbird?

The golden big cat shook his neck playfully, jostling the Princess. The light filtering through the trees threw the shadow of the Prince and his new feline headdress across the leaf mold as he began to walk, taking his girl on an aimless trip through the forest.

One ear curved up to catch her question. Sarabi's son felt his smile fall away a bit and was glad Kiara couldn't see the change she'd brought in the mood. The Pridelands...missing them was a familiar wound. Not being able to romp through the grasses or climb the perch of his ancestors wasn't as bad as the mixture of guilt and horror every time he remembered the image of thorns choking it.

But it was good that his daughter wanted to know about them. Because Simba knew he wanted to share the land of his childhood with her.

”Well...” Started the lion, his voice slipping into a careful sort of patience usually reserved for their monarchy lessons. ”It was...beautiful. You can't tell now, because of the thorns, but the thing I miss the most isn't Pride Rock. It's the grasslands. Like...the meadows here, but much deeper. I could run and run, as long as I wanted, nothing in my way.” He grinned to think of it. ”Your mom used to beat me at tag all the time. No shade, just chasing each other through the sunshine."

The faraway look in the fiery eyes faded as Simba came to a stream. He crouched, feeling the cub's weight shift forward on his head. Before he sprang, he flicked one ear to tickle the younger lioness.”Heh...that was a long time ago. What did you want to know?”

Simba’s laugh matched the babbling of the brook he landed beside. Kion was brave and often surprised Simba with the maturity he brought to conversations. Kopa was as playfully competitive as Nala and fun to wrestle.

But Kiara? His one daughter brought a completely unexpected aspect to the scene any time he spent time with her. Simba wondered for a moment if he laughed as often with either of the boys as he did with the feisty Princess.

”Oh no,” He threw an arch look up at his bangs, despite not being able to see Kiara. Little drama queen. ”We don’t do ‘cold’ in the Pridelands.”

Another laugh bounded from the yellow jaws of the future King, but Simba felt his ear try to droop in Kiara’s grip. They shouldn’t even know what cold is... Not the way it was here. Snow was fun, even for him, but...it was unnatural. And it stayed for so long. He was missing home for it’s sunshine. He hadn’t even thought about this part of life that his little lions didn’t even know to miss.

Was the Pridelands warm! Ha! It was nothing but warmth, and sun, and fun, and the same golden grasses that fed and housed hundreds of animals and the ancestral Great Kings wearing the track of the circle of life.

”I can’t wait to show it to you. Someday.” Murmured Simba. He realized the ride he was giving his daughter had almost come to a complete stop and shook himself out of it. His tone vibrated back to life. ”Besides, snow’s not all bad, is it?” There was one drift left in the shade of late winter. Most of it had melted away from the Great Forest, but either because of the Snow queen’s proximity or out of sheer stubbornness a few piles were lingering. Without warning, the father lion jutted his head forward and down and effectively dumped Kiara into it. ”See! Ahh, refreshing!”