Work Text:
The Bluest Eyes He'd Ever Seen
by Pirate Turner
He lay on his back with the wind blowing his luxurious fur, combing through his mane with the gentle hands akin to those he imagined a lover would have. He had never been loved in that way, but he had fantasized about it many times as he grew older and watched his fathers together. Her paws would be as gentle as the wind that now blew over him, stroking his fur in tender caresses, but her passion would be as fierce as lightning. Her fur would be tawny, golden in the sparkling rays of the sun, and the softest he'd ever felt. Her eyes . . .
Simba sighed, gazing up at the cloudless sky. Her eyes would be blue, bluer than the loveliest of skies, bluer than the purest of pools, bluer than the blue birds, bluer than . . . His breath inhaled sharply as he saw the face of his dream mate and sighed dreamily. They would be as blue as Nala's, the bluest he'd ever laid eyes upon.
Pain caught at Simba's heart. Nala had been such a wonderful friend, and he could easily imagine her all grown up. She would be a mighty lioness; brave; proud; and fierce; but beyond all else, she would be more beautiful than words could hope to describe. Only in his dreams could he see her as gloriously beautiful as she would be in life, and though her dream form was tantalizing, it was also painful for he knew he'd never see her again.
Even if he did, she'd never understand what had happened. She'd hate him; they all would. She would never again look upon him kindly, as a friend, or as anything beyond his father's killer. Pain seared through Simba's heart straight into his soul. His father had died because of him, and he'd lost everything and every one all because of his stupidity.
"Pretty, ain't it?" Pumbaa's voice snapped Simba back to the reality of the life he led with the only two beings who would ever accept him again.
"Yeah," Simba muttered as he tried to push Nala out of his thoughts. The sky was beautiful, beautiful and oh so blue just like Nala's eyes. With a loud sigh, he rolled to his feet and padded off to be alone and try to shake his cubhood best friend out of his thoughts.
"What's eating him?" Timon murmured behind the despondent lion.
"Fleas," Pumbaa replied. They laughed, never dreaming of just what horrors haunted their beloved son.
The End