˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓷𝓲𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽

Even though he was being impulsive and wanted an explanation right away for things to come together and make sense he'd try his best to be patient. After all, Magnifico had done the same with him when Simba was telling his own story and that was probably what each other needed at this moment. Patience and understanding with one another. The cub listened as the King continued, listened closely to how to become better. Did he understand? Nope. "Not really." Simba replied lowering his ears slightly as he continued to listen for any sort of non-cryptic answer. "Is..." he paused thoughtfully for a brief moment wondering if he was supposed to take the same path as the adult did. "Is that what I'm supposed to do now? Build something like you and Queen Amaya did to fix it?"

Whatever it was it seemed like it was working for the couple but for him? The lion already had questions forming in his young mind, no matter how silly, such as 'How am I supposed to even go and build a city in the first place?' and 'If I am what stuff am I supposed to use?'. Things of that nature that an animal couldn't do that a human obviously could. He sighed looking up at the King. "What if I don't know where to start?"

So, was it truly so shocking that, despite the uncomfortable feelings it dragged out, he was finally capable of opening up again with someone who had been through similar suffering?

He wondered briefly how to illustrate his own past, what was the best way to describe to a child what had been the utter ruination of an entire kingdom. But then again . . . this “child” had dealt with similarly horrid matters, and Magnifico couldn’t protect him from what had already transpired. “There was . . . imbalance in the kingdom where I grew up. It led to hatred, to violence, to death—the latter claiming my parents before I could do anything to stop it,” Magnifico explained. “Sure, it wasn’t my fault what happened, but . . . I felt guilty for not being able to prevent it or fight back at the time.”

There was no putting a number to just how often he found himself spiraling down that trench like Simba’s, endlessly replaying that day in his mind and contemplating if—no, wishing that—he hadn’t been so helpless. Here and now, he wrestled with the guilt boiling a fresh fury in his veins: a hatred for the people who’d done it, but perhaps as much a hatred for himself and his negligence—

Magnifico forced out an unsteady breath. His fingers had curled tighter into Simba’s fur, and he unclenched them with some effort.

After hearing out the cub’s confusion, his patience resurfaced, found there in another quiet smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s entirely up to you,” he said. “I can’t tell you what will give you purpose, or what you’ll personally need to do to move forward despite it all, but what I can in confidence say is that you are already healing. No one can ask you to forget about what happened. Nor should you, and you certainly shouldn’t ignore what you’re feeling. It hurts. It’s okay that it hurts. And it’s okay that it will continue to hurt. Simba, I still hurt for my loved ones.”

The colored version (I know I did it in a hurry):

Before she could open her mouth to respond though, Olaf's promptly scoffed, holding his drink away as if it were the most disgusting thing on the planet.

"This isn't tea! Oh waiter! Waiter! HEY YOU!"

"Olaf, they're not-"

"I am a gentleman. And gentlemen drink tea. Actually they drink something a little stronger but I don't like the taste, so I would like tea, please!"

Watching the snowman waddle out of the room after the maid, the sovereign couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh. "Sorry. There's never a dull moment here in Arendelle or anywhere with Olaf, really."

As her sounds of amusement died down, Anna's focused returned to Magnifico and Rosas and the reality of what he offered quickly hit her.

"Wait, what? Really?! You mean it! Oh I've always wanted to see one of those Wishin-" Her insistent talking abruptly stops, realizing she was on the brink of rambling yet again. Clearing her throat, Anna continued; "A Wishing Ceremony? Hmm yeah...I think I heard about those. It's quite a big celebration in Rosas. Like news of my sister has reached other kingdoms, so has your...ahem...magical wishing abilities. It's certainly been talked about here in Arendelle. It would amazing to see such a thing in person.", she smiles warmly. "Rosas is lucky to have you."

Taking a few more sips of her hot chocolate, the queen sits herself on the plush couch by the fireplace, a single question lingering in her back of her mind. Something simple and plain but she couldn't help but ask;

She had no reason to hide it.

“I’d be surprised if you hadn’t heard of them,” Magnifico said, content at the moment with simply letting the beverage warm his hands. “Not offended, to be entirely clear. Just surprised. It is, after all, the main reason so many travelers come to Rosas—whether they decide to prolong their stay or not. It’d be . . . well, unacceptable to not host a ceremony when you visit, especially considering how much of Arendelle you’ve gone out of your way to show me.” He reckoned they wouldn’t be traversing mountains or the like and certainly wouldn’t have any snow to race down. . . . Rosas had plenty of other wonders to behold. (Mainly by the king’s own hands, though he chose to keep that comment to himself.)

In time with Queen Anna taking a contemplative sip from her drink, Magnifico too went for a taste of his. Definitely not tea, concluded by Olaf mere moments earlier, and yet . . . as a tea-appreciator himself, the king still found he had nothing to complain about. Add that to the list of cozy facets making up this whole scene, he supposed. Unfortunately, the plaintive look that crossed his company’s face rather didn’t match, worrisome until she voiced those concerns.

—which only coaxed that patient smile back to his lips.

A feeling of awkwardness started to form in his chest, which caused him to let out a soft chuckle. That question threw him off guard, one he was not expecting to hear at all. "You do make a great point, sir. It was...quite the dramatic shift, that's for sure...although I'm still trying to get used to what my life is now than what I did before." He shoved his fuzzy paws into his pockets, shrugging.

"To answer your question, yes. It-...it was a change of heart, it was thanks to a bunny officer who helped me see I can be more than just a con-artist...not follow what society thinks of foxes." His voice turned soft as he started talking about Judy. "If it wasn't for her, I'd probably still be hustling with my buddy, Finnick." He explained, sounding appreciative.

"...if it wasn't for her then...Zootropolis would've crumbled completely where prey are afraid of predators. It's...a long story, one I'd rather not get into at the moment." Nick murmured softly under his breath.

Or perhaps not so impressively, as he’s come to learn how relatable this civilization of animals just so happens to be.

“Not entirely unheard of,” he muses, and it could be that thread of familiarity that brings forth a small confession of his own. “This may come as surprising, but I wasn’t always the most responsible man. Really, I was quite . . . content drifting through life without any real purpose, enjoying each day as it came with no real future in mind.” Shaking his head, Magnifico glances distractedly at that burned tapestry—

He feels a remorseful twitch at the corner of his mouth, but one he conquers as he clears his throat and faces his guest again. “It wasn’t until I met the woman who became my queen that things started to change. Sometimes, all it takes is that one person to alter the way you view the world—give you a nudge in the right direction. Or even an entire push.”

Elsa had spent her entire life believing that there was no one else like her.

No one else in Arendelle possessed magic—not even her own family—and none of the history books she'd studied cover to cover mentioned magic in any other parts of the world. She was eternally grateful for her people's acceptance, of course, but even though they'd accepted her, she'd convinced herself to accept that she would always be...different. No one else would ever truly understand.

Thus, one could imagine her excitement upon learning about the magical, wish-granting king currently ruling the far-off city of Rosas. It felt wrong to leave Arendelle behind so soon after everything—she'd only just gained her people's trust; would she lose it again if she left?—but Anna had insisted. And, in truth, Elsa hadn't taken much convincing. She'd been cooped up in the castle for ages; getting to see another part of the world was a dream come true.

The voyage had been torn between worry for her sister back home and speculation as to what she would find when she arrived. Whatever may come—whatever powers King Magnifico possessed—Elsa tried to take comfort in her own certainty. She had to meet him. She had to know.

That giddiness swelled anew as her ship finally pulled into the island's harbor. Waiting to dock bordered on torturous, but Elsa forced herself to maintain propriety with a bit of mental scolding. The last thing she wanted was to make a poor first impression.

When she disembarked onto Rosas' shore at last, there was no taming the grin lighting up her face. She met King Magnifico at the end of the dock and dipped into a formal curtsy.

Oh, there most certainly had been stories.

And among it all, King Magnifico had wondered—in some deep-seated, silent amusement—if these were the kind of stories people used to tell about the upstart sorcerer who'd decided to build a kingdom from the ground up and call it his. For it was what people didn't understand that drove them to fear, to distrust, to malice. To unfair and horrendous judgment, all until they allowed that unknown to become known . . . or at the very least allowed that chance.

Queen Elsa's situation had been admittedly different from his own. The rumors claimed her magic had frozen her entire kingdom, nearly doomed every living thing within its borders: a clear show—especially to one practiced in magic such as himself—of a lack of control. (Truly, if the queen had done this as an act of terrorism, she'd not be as accepted as she is now.) Details beyond that . . . remained his unknown: whether her powers had come to her against her will or if she'd been experimenting with spells and gone too far—

(The latter lining up more with Magnifico's experience . . . )

When it came down to it, speculation was nothing but. King Magnifico knew gossip did hardly any justice for the one being gossiped about; he'd have to speak to the source herself. And as the sails of her inbound ship swelled over the horizon on that long-awaited day, his eagerness—oh, that innate curiosity constantly buzzing beneath his skin—rivaled hers.

“Queen Elsa.” He greeted her with practiced decorum, that giddy energy kept in-check for the sake of appearances—though his grin remained unchecked. “No pomp or circumstance, as promised. Though you should know the people of Rosas would've been delighted to grant you more of a . . . loud welcome.” And there was no stopping the small crowd that had gathered, nevertheless. King Magnifico cast them an amicable smile as he led their guest away from the docks.

"If they didn't get scared cause of me, my Dad would still be here. Y-You can't just scare all of them like that out of nowhere." Startling an entire herd wasn't exactly possible as far as he knew unless it came to hunting unless something hadn't been explained to him during his lessons when he lived back in the Pridelands. Either that or the cub forgot.

Thoughts drifted to Magnifico's words again mulling them over as he remained quiet going over the situation in his head. Silence formed between the two as the cub continued to gaze at the King as his chin was held to hold his attention. "No, we can't control stuff in the past...but...how am I supposed to become better from all this and learn from it? It...it doesn't make sense. What if I can't? What if I never can? How's it not my responsibility if..."

The cub trailed off trying to make sense of Magnifico's words. An accident? Was that even possible? "I saw him fall though. I saw him." he said quietly as the memories resurfaced, mentally reliving those harrowing moments once again. "There...there were lots of rocks and...maybe...maybe he slipped when climbing up." Simba mused aloud as things slowly pieced together. Perhaps he'd been looking at the situation wrong this entire time and who knew what happened when the cub was climbing his own set of rocks to reach Mufasa at the time? Anything could have. Accidents did happen after all. "So if that happened that would mean...that it wasn't my fault."

The realization that hit him like a ton of bricks caused the lion cub to cry again. All the self-blaming he'd done had been absolutely pointless. He leaned against the human as the tears flowed again burying his face against his chest as if to hide his emotions. Heck, Simba could probably hide his entire form if he could.

Being this vulnerable wasn't exactly like the cub but as he slowly began to accept the newfound truth he couldn't help it. It was a lot for a child to deal with. "It's not my fault." he pulled back once he felt a bit better, this time with the slightest of smiles on his face as relief washed over his features though something came to mind. How did Magnifico know about accidents with deaths and whatnot? Was it experience? Did his subjects deal with the same issues and that's how he knew what advice to give?

Unfortunately, he had. And unfortunately, guilt like that didn’t just disappear in the blink of an eye.

The fortunate aspect now was that Simba didn’t need to face the guilt alone.

Magnifico waited patiently while Simba talked himself through it. (Truly, no amount of outward affirmations could make the difference required here; the cub had to come to the conclusion himself, put in that effort to shed the doubts as time went on.) He listened as the tragedy tumbled out on broken sentences and thoughtful pauses, knowing—with that same intimacy mentioned before—what it felt like to sift through all the panic and pain in an attempt to understand what actually occurred. And when Simba eventually allowed the tears to run free, Magnifico didn’t hesitate to hold him closer.

He needed this. More than anything, it turned out. For however long Simba required nothing more than that quiet support, than that lack of judgment, than that ability to just let himself grieve and finally begin the process of moving on, the king would be there.

The final declaration of the loss not being even remotely his fault brought a relieved twitch to Magnifico’s lips as those bleary eyes looked up at him. He nodded some, a silent, Very good that remained unspoken in the shadow of what Simba chose to pursue next. It was only fair, he supposed. Even when that smile dwindled to a partial grimace and a light sigh replaced any immediate attempt to form words.

“Actually, I know from personal experience, as well,” the king explained. His fingers idled on Simba’s back, tracing almost mindless patterns while he deliberated the proper way of divulging this. “I lost my family many years ago, and at the time, I was so . . . frustrated I hadn’t been able to do anything to protect them. Much like you.” He squeezed gently, the trace of a grin lurking at the corner of his mouth for a bare breath. “But, I suppose if we’re putting this in the simplest terms, it would be one of the main reasons I and Queen Amaya built Rosas: something we can protect, a place where people won’t just feel safe, but they’ll be safe.”

" well i guess this is a little different but...close enough. " magic. they never knew how to feel about magic. they were sure if they tried, it wouldn't end well. they weren't made to cast spells, they were made to move molecules as easily as wavelengths refract off of them. a constant chemical reaction within them, cementing the scientific origin rather than anything close to mystical.

...though they guessed to someone that didn't know science all that well, it looked quite magical. what was alchemy if not science mixed with the ideas of magic?

" i wouldn't say not well liked. " a pause. no, it was liked, but never by the right people. the people that liked them were often the ones that wanted to use them. the people that made them.

" ...just, it's best to be private when you have more capabilities than others. people don't tend to trust what they can't do themselves, or find to be too out of their realm of understanding. does..that...um...make sense? "

For a moment, Magnifico gave them nothing more. He maintained a particular interest in observing their behavior—from the way their striking amethyst eyes pored over him to the manner in which they spoke, not so much the words themselves as the tone shaping them. They exuded what felt like feigned conviction, or maybe a firm belief that if they injected all of their statements with enough resolve, they’d convince themselves against what could only be . . . fear, was it? Or simply caution bred from prior experience—?

And, oh, how intimately the king knew that feeling. As much as he was eager to ignore it, shove it back down.

“I wonder,” he finally broke the brief silence, head tilting sideways, “if it’s really the ‘people’ who don’t trust your unique abilities, or if it’s you yourself.” Realizing how quickly he could be taken as condescending, however, the king granted a placating smile: understanding, still. “I can’t claim to know what it might be like to have power like that from the start—before you even know just how to control it, much less decide you even want to—but I do know it shouldn’t be seen as a negative thing.”

The first few words left his lips slowly, as if speaking about the subject itself was foreign to him even though he was the one who had the experience. "There...was a wildebeest stampede." Simba began. He could still remember the thundering hooves pounding in the dirt as he raced for his life. "And my Dad c-came and-he saved me but-"

A pause. His heart rate was picking up as he spoke though the cub willed himself to continue despite the emotions he was struggling with and yet the sobs came.

"I-" The words were stuck in his throat. Silence filled the room as the lion's claws dug into the fabric of the seat attempting to ground himself as tears, ones he'd held back for far too long, slowly spilled over, his voice shaking as he continued while focusing on his paws as if to block out any visual distractions, mostly Magnifico since Simba was terrified of his reaction as a whole. "I k...killed him and-...I waited for something and if I didn't he'd still be here and-...it's my fault." Yet, Simba's tale wasn't over. That was only the first half.

"I left everybody. My family, home, everything. All I did was wander around in the sand and everything went black." he continued through sniffles. "When I woke up there were voices, lots of them. I couldn't move around a lot either." A crate was now involved. The story continued as the cub mentioned how he was handed off from his captives, bought in a market, then eventually ended up here as a bribe for a family's wishes to be granted given as a gift to Magnifico, which was unbeknownst to the cub since he'd been asleep in the crate at the time the interaction occurred.

Finally, Simba looked up once he'd finished with tears still streaming down his face, his eyes searching for any sort of readable expression on the King's face. What would his destiny hold now? Would the King of Rosas allow a murderer inside his precious kingdom or would he be banished on the spot for the safety of his loyal subjects? He'd managed to be on his own before somehow and he could do it again if need be. "If I were a King I wouldn't wanna have someone like me here either b-but that's what happened...and I get it...if you want me to go."

Awareness of the fact Simba couldn’t have been brought here under the best of circumstances. Awareness that any mere mumblings about the topic would be as painful as if living in that nightmare all over again. Awareness that someone as young as Simba couldn’t possibly know how to wrangle all of these difficult feelings any more than he knew how to wrangle the hurt at Magnifico’s negligence . . .

And perhaps—yes, perhaps—awareness that it would be almost as painful to listen to it all.

But, marching along that same beaten path they’d already begun on, King Magnifico committed. More than he had been able (or maybe even willing) to do until now. He sat as silent and patient as before, taking in every word, every broken breath, every hesitation as the cub struggled to express it all—and, yes, each time even the slightest pause broke his speech, Magnifico simply waited. Because deep down, some part of him knew just how desperately Simba needed to get this all out. (Whether he empathized with that feeling himself was . . . neither here nor there.)

The story stung for more than one reason. Further to that, it stung for reasons toward which Magnifico dared not even spare a thought—unless he hoped to lose himself before he could be the strength Simba clearly needed. As the cub sat there blaming himself—survivor’s guilt, so it would seem—Magnifico had to forcibly steady a new tremor of unease within himself before it could show, before the quake physically reached his fingertips. Gently, a hand moved to drape over Simba’s back: equally a comfort to the other as it was a support for himself. And the instant tear-soaked eyes darted up to Magnifico’s, searching for disdain, the king found he’d almost forgotten how to breathe.

Almost. One staggering beat was all it took.

He let out an exhale that shook his entire being.

“Simba,” Magnifico started, his words drifting out on more breath than voice. “I will not be asking you to leave. If you do go, it’d be entirely your decision and have nothing to do with my not wanting you to be here.” He shifted in their seat, hand curling partially under the cub’s stomach to pull him gingerly into his lap. “What I think is more important at the moment, however, is that you know you haven’t killed anyone.” Before Simba had the chance to look away, he was already placing a finger under his chin, holding his attention. “Your father’s death isn’t your responsibility. It’s not your fault. Do you understand?”

He was sure of this. Beyond sure. And as stern as the statement left him—resolute, no room for question—his expression remained warm, his grip on the cub nothing but supportive in all the ways he’d failed to be in the past.

"Well, his majesty challenged me to a race and I won!"

"Ah, I see. Well then HA IN YOUR FACE! Though it is quite a handsome face, well done, sir."

Anna let out a soft chuckle before nodding her head in agreement with Magnifico's suggestion. "Yes, I think that's a great idea. We've had more than enough adventure for one day. Time to relax with some nice hot chocolate and a warm fire."

"Hmph! Hot chocolate is child's play. Us gentleman will take tea. Two sugars, NO honey. The way gentlemen do!"

Biting her lower lip, the young Queen stifles her laughter as she leads the group down the winding path and straight into the warm and inviting confines of the castle.

"You know, we hold a sledding race every year in Arendelle. Elsa is always the judge. She'd like me to join her on the sidelines but, as I'm sure you know now, that just isn't for me.", she remarks lightly as she opened the lounge door, the roaring fire inside enticing them closer, its warmth more than welcomed to poor Anna's chilled cheeks.

Thankfully, given enough time and distraction with pleasant conversation, said chill melted away faster than imagined.

He remained on his feet, standing there in front of the hearth while his attention tracked the way shadows playfully danced across Queen Anna’s rosy cheeks. More and more often, Magnifico would discover he was smiling for long moments without realizing it, here again as she elaborated on one of Arendelle’s eccentric traditions; he silently mused how much it suited her that she be involved. “And are you a consistent winner of those, as well?” he prodded, paired with a soft chuckle before he looked back into the flickering flames.

Magnifico was contemplative, then, only a low hum mingling with the crackling wood to break the silence. “Rosas doesn’t have many races . . . specifically of that nature, I’m sure you’d gather,” came his eventual response. He further expounded. “We have small festivals here and there, I suppose; I regret to admit I’m not often involved in them. The bigger gatherings are always the Wish Ceremonies, and since those tend to occur on a near-monthly basis—occasionally more—they alone keep the people happy.”

In this moment of weakness, the hardened sheen of her gaze gave way to the roiling storm underneath, watching her husband with such trepidation. At any other time, it would have been the greatest comfort to look into her beloved's eyes, but nothing was upright in her world anymore.

The ground beneath her feet felt unsteady; like one wrong step would send her tumbling into an abyss from which there was no escape. The air between them was thick and murky as the depths of the sea surrounding their—...her—glorious kingdom. As she stared into the eyes of the one who was supposed to reassure her, the one who was supposed to make her feel safe, the fear she felt instead was unbearably wrong.

Amaya's lungs filled with cotton in the silence after her outburst. It wasn't like her to lose her composure. Even after days of preparing herself for this, even when her logical mind—inundated with those haunting memories—had to believe that Magnifico wasn't safe any longer...she couldn't hide the pain of those foreign, rampant emotions. Not from him. He was her strength when her own failed; he was her support when her own crumbled.

But that was before. With lips pressed into a thin line, she forced herself to breathe through it all. Now was not the time to be fragile. What was the point of breaking when the hands that would lovingly piece her back together were out of reach in so many ways?

By the time Magnifico spoke, she had hastily cobbled her resolve. It wavered beneath the emotion in his tone, the way he backed down from her piercing gaze. Not trusting herself to speak again just yet, Amaya simply listened, balancing on a tightrope between mistrust and the wish she yearned for more than anything.

Did he really not remember what he'd done? And if not...surely that had to mean it hadn't been him. All the cruelty, the insanity...if it came from him, if the man speaking to her now had truly committed those horrible deeds, then he would remember. So what did it mean that he didn't?

Amaya didn't know. All she knew was what she wanted it to mean—and that she was still too afraid to hope.

Though he posed his final words as a question, they were certain enough to not need confirmation. She knew her outburst made it obvious. She couldn't hide it from him. "You hurt all of us," she said instead. "I—...I watched you lose yourself. That book—" venom dripped from the word, the most hateful Amaya had ever been, "—it doesn't just contain evil magic; anyone who uses it becomes evil, too. It's an infection with no cure."

In the days since the catastrophe, Amaya had read those words over and over again. She had scoured every paragraph, illustration, annotation and margin; searched pages filled with wickedness for the tiniest shred of hope. But such evil didn't care about her desperation, her heartbreak. The words never changed:

Give yourself to this dark magic even once, and it has a hold on you forever.

She shook her head, blinking away the mist at the edges of her vision. Her heart ached beneath the discolored bruise. "I want to think that I know who you are: that you would never enact such pain and despair on your people. But ever since you used that book..."

For what they’d done to him. What his people had done to push him this far.

—and all feeble recollections of precisely what “this far” meant crumbled through his fingers as they formed fists. 

Magnifico tried again—he always would for her—and breathed in and out deeply, fully, enough to potentially extinguish those embers newly alight within him. He hadn’t taken the time to imagine it would only feed the flames. And when Amaya answered his question with hardly a real response (indeed, the woman danced around it with finesse that just as much gave him that answer he didn’t need to hear), something reminiscent of a hiss pierced through his teeth. Part of him wanted to shout. Part of him wanted to quip on a voice as venomous as hers: Yes, we’ve been over that. I’m talking about you, not them! 

Was he supposed to care about an entire kingdom who’d turned their backs on their king . . . ? Is that what she’s saying—? He’d only become a “threat” because they—

. . .

This wasn’t about them. Right now, he only cared about her.

A new tremor of exertion coursed through him, and Magnifico bit his tongue while he allowed Amaya the chance to speak. It seemed . . . more difficult to hear her suddenly; all at once, it was as though the barrier this prison erected between them had become thicker—as if Amaya spoke to him through layers upon layers of ice. The thought itself did enough to turn that tremor into a shiver. So, naturally, Magnifico finally met her gaze. She was the warmest thing he could think of, even when so desperately buried beneath pain and betrayal.

Nothing could get through to you, she said.

And yet . . . Magnifico almost, almost wanted to laugh.

Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now . . . ?

Push. Pull.

That fresh flare of fury was already dwindling again.

“Truthfully, Amaya”—he replied to her on a breezy lilt, that near-manic urge to laugh in spite of himself (or the situation, perhaps) tickling the edges of his words—“I’d love nothing more than to provide you with a confident answer to that, but.” A shrug rolled through his shoulders, and his next breath fluttered out of him with inklings of resignation. “All I can say in confidence . . . ?” And here, Magnifico inched closer, fingers gliding uselessly over the mirror’s glass. “I’m enough of myself now to despise what led me to hurt you.”

As Magnifico continued, Simba listened, now eager to hear more of the King's view of the situation. All he'd need was time to himself? That was pretty easy to give...if Simba felt like it. He did have a tendency to not exactly pick up on cues at times when grown-ups wanted to be left alone unless he was told outright. It was an age thing mostly. "If you didn't think it was fair..." Simba began. "Then how come you didn't say or do anything about it before? I thought Kings were s'pposed to know almost everything about their subjects." Perhaps not every single little detail but then again the little lion could have made a bigger effort on his part too in bringing the subject up at first. "I guess..." he trailed off trying to choose his words carefully. "I guess I could've said something too." To be fair, Simba also hadn't said much about his previous life before arriving in Rosas.

That was his own fault and decision. "Sorry...y'know...about before. It's just..." Should he even say anything to begin with? Perhaps he could elude to the situation that happened and nothing more would come of it. But what if there were questions? It'd be natural of course then the cub would have to explain himself more and...it'd be a mess. Still, he was residing in Magnifico's home and the King deserved something of an explanation. "I kind of had it rough before showing up here."

Boy, did he ever!

After being exiled and traveling for what seemed like literal ages through the desert, the cub had been captured, put in a crate, and ended up in Magnifico's presence after being transferred through many different places and hands to his final destination. Adapting had been extremely difficult too. Humans and their customs were extremely different from animal instincts. It was a lot of change for a young cub to be put through after so short a time. "And...I guess potion-making might be kinda fun," he said with a slight smile while attempting to change the subject. "Can we go do one now?"

Now, there was a question that had an answer worth far more than any jewels or gold could ever cover . . . even if the king figured he’d benefit if he could pay for a proper way to respond. Perhaps the simple reply would’ve been that the concerns had never lingered long enough to be addressed, that each time a flutter of regret built in his chest, it just as swiftly got whisked away by other responsibilities, by all the things that made him King and therefore unfit to also . . . What was this? Raise a child? Proof, if proof were needed, that he was exceptionally too busy with his people to grant the necessary attention to a kid, and yet—! Oh, he was in it, now. And Magnifico wasn’t even exercising the idea of abandoning the cub.

—which was exactly why these changes needed to be made.

“I could come up with a thousand excuses for that, Simba,” the king eventually conceded, apologetic creases forming at the corners of his eyes. “But none of them would be right. While it’s mature of you to recognize your own part in this, I am just as much at fault for letting you hurt as long as I have. And for that, I hope you may learn to forgive me.” Rare, indeed, for Magnifico to even come close to admitting his mistakes, but he found himself softening for the cub—similarly to the way he’d softened for his queen, to the way she saw sides of him no one else ever did. Well . . . they were a family now, in a sense, weren’t they?

What then captured his attention, snagged it and redirected it to something else entirely, was the passing mention of a past about which the two of them had never spoken. Wary, understanding as Magnifico could be toward the hauntings of what came before, he thought it appropriate to finally ask. But not without stepping closer, gingerly ushering Simba to the side so he could claim part of that seat for himself.