They were all here, every king and queen, every general who wielded power. All the witches and wizards with their incantations, the fairies with their fate altering spells. Triton and his mighty waves, the Sultan with a thousand camels draped in gold. Powhatan, who consulted the spirits of the ancient forest. The Emperor, commander of Disney’s fiercest armies.
And Mufasa rose above them all.
He sat on the throne, looking down at the people before him. As a young prince he’d been taught to respect all the people in his kingdom. But he also learned that everyone had their place. Life had a balance to it, an order. He would always care for and protect his people but he was not one of them. His power was great, and his responsibility unimaginable. And everywhere he walked, heads bowed. From the peaks of Arendelle’s mountains to the loneliest dunes in Agrabah. Everywhere the light touched was his.
A pain shot through his torso, and he allowed his hand to briefly grip his side. An instant later, he straightened his back. The weapon had been magical––and full of poison if the Enchantress was correct––and he came very close to not making it. Very close to rising even higher and living in the heavens with his father and his father, and all those who came before him. He was a star touched king now, as close to death as he was the sunrise.
Some days he felt it more than others. Whatever happened, he could not waste anymore time. His eyes drifted to Simba in the crowd. His golden sun, the son who had overcome and saved the kingdom. And Nala, who convinced him to come back. They were both ready, they could do it, and the Kingdom would be better for it. He would not leave Disney again without insuring they would all be safe.
Movement out of the corner of his eye made him look up––he spent far too much time in his thoughts these days. His guard looked to him and Mufasa held up his hand. His voice rang out, deep and sure.
“Let them approach.”
