Guess We All are Born with Parts to Play

The Crown Prince of the Pridelands was normally seen in one of two postures. The first was his Kingly look. He wore it with mane high and chest out, padding through Arendelle or the more populated parts of the Great Forest. It was definitely matching Mufasa’s, and he’d practiced it as often as his roar when he was younger, but now it had become second nature. The second posture was Simba’s normal, relaxed walk. Usually it included a sleepy grin and even a little dancing bounce in his step. Most often, the male softened into this when no one but Nala or Bambi or his other closest friends were near.

Today, neither of those traced the silhouette that fell across the Forest’s grasses. Today Simba’s head was low, in line with his shoulders. His body bobbed not with an inner happy song that couldn’t wait to be King, but with temperamental, stomping steps.

He hadn’t started out grumpy. The thoughts of war that pulled his black lips down into a big-cat frown had sort of nudged him into it.

Before the wagon attack and the talks of the Lion Guard and the mounting pressure to lead the assault on Paris, patrols had been kind of fun. Usually there was no reason to worry that Thorns had crept all the way to their wooded hideout. Instead, he could meet the ever-increasing odd faces of the Enchanted Sun animals and check on new friends. He could do something to make everyone feel at home here while Mufasa and Sarabi worried about getting them back to the Pridelands.

But Simba hadn’t slept well again last night. And he’d come across a set of deer tracks that did not smell like Bambi, as well as some trampled undergrowth. It probably wasn’t anything but a rival stag in the wrong trails. But it had made the future King moody.

Then Kopa bounced into his view and Simba drew up, a little startled that he hadn’t heard his son. Some guardian of the forest. Bambi would laugh.

The father’s chin jutted out and one eyebrow rose, surprised out of his brooding. Then his tail waved a bit and a smile loosened his muzzle. ”Finished your chores, huh?” A little flower of happiness bloomed out of the thorns in Simba’s heart. Kopa was usually romping around with that little spitfire of a niece, Gurri. More than once, Simba had to fish him out of a frozen creek or carry him home with his pelt full of prickers because the fawn’s schemes were contagious. This helpful, Nala-pale face wasn’t the one his youngest normally wore.

Simba ducked his head and prodded Kopa with one paw in an area between the cub’s elbow and hind leg, which he knew was ticklish. ”No frogs in the laundry this time?” He wrinkled his nose playfully, but wished that the feeling would reach the unease still simmering in his brain. Hopefully the teasing didn’t look as halfhearted to Kopa as it felt to his father.

The truth was, Simba didn’t really feel like playing. He knew it wasn’t fatherly, but this was one of the rare moments when he wasn’t looking for one of his cubs to tag along. The weight of his thoughts might be unpleasant, but Simba felt like they were things worth worried about, not being distracted from. Not right now, anyway.

But he couldn’t just say no to his lightly colored kid. Especially not when one of those worries hanging over his head was that Kopa didn’t take the dangers of the world at war seriously. Oh, he was eager to please, all right. But Simba sometimes wondered if Bambi’s daughter was getting his littlest cub into a frame of mind that thought nothing could hurt him as long as he was having fun. Maybe he could turn this walk into words of wisdom. Mufasa always seemed to.

”All right, come on.” He stepped over the tan child and continued up a slope more slowly. ”Got a lotta forest to patrol. And we don’t want the deer doing a better job than us, right?”

The distracted glance and half-smile Simba threw Kopa's way when he slipped only lasted an instant. Then the father was gazing out over the next few deer trails at the bottom of the slope's other side. East, probably...he hadn't patrolled in the direction of the meadow, yet. That was where the most activity was, and usually you could find a concentration of the Suns forces playing, drilling, or milling around. If some dark creature had managed to get this deep into their territory, it would be a target.

Simba went to descend the slope in long strides. One of his ears twitched toward his son, who was rambling on about getting the chance to talk in that cute little-kid voice. Getting the chance. Simba felt a slight stab of guilt. Was he too busy for his cubs? Mufasa never left Simba feeling neglected--well. Except for the times he'd charge off to deal with hyenas mid-lesson, or confine the Prince to the den while he conferred with the Suns...

So maybe he hadn't spent one-on-one time with Kopa. But maybe that was also for the palest cub's own good, in the long run. Like Mufasa defending their home, Simba couldn't take Kopa with him everywhere. After all, even this patrol could end up being dangerous. It was unlikely, but what were patrols for? For making sure there were no enemies in the Forest. And if he did run into some angry stag or troublemaking intruder, what was Simba going to do with Kopa? Maybe he should tell the kid to go home after all...

"...A-and I don't mean just chores and stuff. I know I need to do that stuff."

Simba blinked quickly and hesitated, one foot on the root of a tree he'd been sniffing. He turned his shaggy head to look back at his son, who had stopped talking. All big blue eyes, like his mom. Littler than any other cub in the Pride...What had he been saying? Something about his brother and sister....was it about what he needed to be doing? Simba frowned more deeply at himself for not paying attention to his own cub.

Kiara had the same question a while ago. A flame of a tail-tip lashed Simba's flank, once. Were all of his kids reaching the point where the war had made them insecure? Dissatisfied with just being cubs? Well. He'd been that way himself, once, hadn't he? The great head tried to shake away irritation.

"We all have a place in the Circle of Life, Kopa." sighed Simba. "And...you're right. Kiara's place is as the Princess. But Kion--he does his chores and spends time with the refugees. Younger animals who come here because of the war." Like that chocolate colored girl cub he'd met. Maybe that wasn't the best example--Simba still bristled thinking about how his son had ventured into thorns without permission. "Right now...that's all you can do."

He managed to lift his whiskers in a smile and reach down, ruffling the mane he wished he'd had at that age. "At least until you're bigger. After all, you're helping me now, aren't you?"

And that was safe, and fine. If Kopa had to be occuppied with adventures, at least this one was where Simba could keep his littlest kid safe personally.

Simba felt his shoulders relax just a bit, like Kopa’s paw tapping his own had leeched a little of the cares out of his father.

Other cubs in the Pride might be bigger, but Simba wouldn’t trade any of them for his cubs. Kiara was so energetic and indomitable. Kion was steady and strong for his age. And here was Kopa. Small though he was, the light Prince still tried his hardest. Not like Kiara’s dizzy friends who were content to sunbathe all day. After all, what more could a Future King as for than to have children who wanted to please?

As long as they didn’t try too hard and wind up getting hurt.

Simba realized, as he thought, that Kopa wasn’t beside him anymore. The adult froze and a quick glance behind slowed his alarmed heart. Oh, he’d stopped. And was looking more thoughtful than ever. A lot like Nala when she was trying to untangle Simba’s confused emotions.

The adult swished his tail and beckoned for Kopa to keep walking. ”Me? Well...”

How could he turnt his into a lesson?

”I was like you. I wanted to play, have fun...but I got into trouble. A lot.”