Work Text:
In the months after Mufasa’s death and Simba’s disappearance, Sarabi grew thin with grief as well as with hunger, and turned away from anyone who would have offered comfort – except Nala, who Sarabi knew had loved her son. Nala she would abide, and so it was Nala who brought her such food as there was, Nala who slept beside her at night, at first curled up between the other’s paws, and later, when she had grown, curled around the older lioness like a protective quilt. With Nala beside her, Sarabi slept; all other times she sat awake in the mouth of the cave, watching the plains parch and the hyenas roam.
Twice Scar tried to breed his brother’s mate, and each time it was Nala, snarling and half his size, who rallied the others and drove him off; the hyenas merely laughed when he demanded aid, and Nala curled about Sarabi and glared at them with murder in her eyes until they slunk away.
When Nala was grown to her full size and power, Sarabi seemed to wake from her long daze, and looked at her companion as if for the first time. “You are beautiful,” she said, and then, “you love my son.”
“Your son is gone, or dead,” Nala replied.
“Go and find him,” said Sarabi, and drew herself up. “I will lead while you are gone.” And it seemed almost as though she were the lioness she had been in her younger days, strong and beautiful as the wind, standing beside her mate to lead the pride.
Nala slept beside Sarabi for the last time that night, curled around her like a fur shield, and Sarabi groomed her ears and said nothing until it was almost dawn. “Thank you,” she said at last, and then, “good luck,” and Nala was gone.