#bdtmabel

@mabelrhymeswithtable

Simba had woken early. 

That was not quite the truth. Simba had never really gotten to sleep. He’d stayed up the whole night, feeling a guilt clawing in his gut. The guilt at thinking about another man while in bed with his wife. The guilt of knowing that if things were different, even in the slightest, slightest way--

He’d leave Mabel in a moment.

So, he’d gotten up early--very early. Watched the sun come up over the water. It had been red as a blushing rose--which had given Simba an idea. He’d found his way to the kitchens first, and managed to get a very scandalized cook to tell him where the storerooms were. There, he found the flower coolers and plucked a few daisies from the batch. They were brightly colored--yellows and whites and pinks. He thought Mabel might like them better than the roses.

By the time he came back, Mabel was dressed and sipping tea in the stateroom.

Holding the flowers behind his back, he knocked on the door frame.

“Good morning, love,” he told her, sweeping into the room towards her. “Are you feeling better?”