Simba looked down at the little pegs in the ground, slanted every which way, eroded almost to rounded tips. He could hardly even tell they were supposed to resemble birds, but the beaks were still somewhat identifiable. Someone was definitely living here, which put a smile on his face.

Though these pegs were supposed to be a magical barrier made by a witch years ago, the reality was slightly underwhelming in Simba's personal opinion. He was briefed on the intelligence given by his father's men who patrolled the region. He was told that the witch kept the Princess in the forest with a magical hex on the pegs, keeping her inside the ring they made around the forest. The intelligence also claimed there could be magical creatures acting as guards. He wondered where this Princess hailed from and how she ended up under the witch's control. He wondered how those who shared of this place knew all of this information, but he had a schedule to keep and questioning sources would impede his goal. He had a kingdom to do proud and a mission to complete if he wanted to vanquish the curse. He had no reason to question the sources anyhow.

As for the scene before him, he had previously imagined an invisible wall of bricks as high as the clouds, or the forest being guarded by fire breathing dragons. Seeing a benign wall of leaves and rotten wood instead wasn't exactly the daring rescue he imagined. But he wasn't going to argue since it made his mission easier than he anticipated. Simba imagined the ornamental place holder on his head replaced with the heavy and authentic crown back in the throne room, his father finally passing the torch of his crown to him. He let out a big sigh. He was one step closer to reaching the purpose of his life.

Simba looked at the forest before him, standing at the line where the grassy plains met the barricade of trees. It was tall and fantastically magical. He couldn't imagine a person being trapped here- it was as if imagining a bird were trapped in the most comfortable nest in the land made of the finest material. But birds with clipped wings wouldn't be able to leave the nest, no matter how nice or horrible the nest was.

"The Princess must be further in," Nathair said as he readied his steed to go forward.

"The poor girl must have been trapped here for years," pointed his second in command. Simba looked into the forest, trunks of green piled into a wall before him.

"We walk from here," Simba declared, getting down from his metaled beast. "This is too unguarded. It must be a trap of some kind. Magic could be involved in her capture and we need to be prepared to counter."

The three men walked past the pegs with ease, shedding their steeds to explore the mass of trees by foot. There was a cross marking a once overturned plot of dirt, a yellow weed writhing at its base that made Simba's heart skip a beat. If she died, he could kiss the throne goodbye.

With a new sense of urgency, he followed the small path of dirt beaten down in the bed of green grass. It was clearly used often, which made Simba unsheathe his sword, but as he broke the greenery before him, he couldn't imagine he would need to use it here.

It was a quiet place, filled with life and greenery. It seemed like a setting of a storybook his mother used to read to him when he was younger, and as he approached the break in trees to an open area, the fairy tale continued. A small tower broke the ceiling of leaves allowing the warm light of the morning sun to touch his skin.

Simba loosened his tense stance and looked up at the sparkling flecks of pollen that danced in the air above him, making the clearing at the center of the woods look as if it were the bottom of a pond, light pouring down from the ceiling where the sky touched the surface of the water. A decrepit yet sturdy tower of stone stood before them, clothes gently wafting in the breeze from a rope meant to act as a clothesline. To the right, leaning against the tower wall was a wagon, too broken to stand by itself. Rings of metal grew from its body like ribs from a deceased animal, surrounded by a skin of dirty blue cloth, ripped and worn, barely held together at all. The small fireplace was to the left, still filled with the ashes of burnt wood.

The Princess didn't seem very trapped, but more likely decided to live here on her own. There seemed to be nothing holding her here, nor did anything indicate she couldn't leave at any point. He wondered when the "rescue" portion of his assignment would commence.

Nathair left to investigate the tower. He returned moments later from the stone mass, shaking his head.

"She isn't in the tower," he barked quietly, a sense of annoyance rang through his metaled helmet. "She must be in the surrounding forest somewhere."

"Then we will split up and search," Simba commanded. "Put away your swords. I don't think she is a prisoner and we shouldn't scare her with weapons. Approach her with care and sensitivity. We can't afford to lose her." He couldn't jeopardize her loyalty. If he was going to wed her, she needs to understand that he's an ally from the second they meet eyes.

As the group dispersed, Simba slowly progressed past the fire pit smelling of fresh coals towards the left of the forest in which a twisting path pried apart the surrounding foliage to lead up an incline. Small flowers spotted the path, most likely missed from eyes looking straight forward and concerned only about routine and scheduling. Simba had to admit he was usually only concerned with the progression of his royal missions, but this forest soothed him as it slowly pried him away from his reason for entering to begin with. He loved the crunch of the natural ground below his feet. The absence of clean marble under his boots was a refreshing change of pace, and small branches came to greet him as he pushed forward.

This forest was a spell, a creation of wonder and beauty. But it concealed a secret wound in it's ancient roots he was determined to uncover. The story of the Princess made little sense to him, from the mission his father gave to him to the nature of the forest itself. Once he found her, he would have to extract information from her to piece together the puzzle he found himself within.

But first, he would have to find her, and make sure she felt safe enough to share with him. If not otherwise, a rich and handsome Prince was sure to charm a lonely captive girl into anything he wished. Despite his wanting to impress her her, this feeling was rivaled aggressively by his concern with objectifying her as a mere trophy. These concerns were met again by his annoyance of the mission at all. Despite everything, it was a hoop he had to jump through to appease his father. He wanted it finished as soon as possible.

As he walked, he could hear the trickling of water and watched a thin stream flow down beside him towards the tower from whence he came. He had spent so little time out of the castle that he had forgotten how he loved the natural world around him as opposed to the marbled slab he called home. It reminded him of his childhood castle in the way the trees closed the space in, the stone tower walls, and of course the warm sensation the plants, the sun, and the water ran through his mind. It was the sensation of his mother he had missed for nearly a decade.

He crouched under a fallen tree trunk as he approached another clearing, filled with the sparkling mist of a waterfall. An aurora of colors projected from the mist, sprinkling the air with a spectrum of hues like a dissolved rainbow. The waterfall roared softly as it fell into the pooling lake, running away in the shallow stream that trickled softly behind him. Big leaves overtook the banks of the lake, and large stones lined the water's edge. It was a small oasis, sky left uncloaked by the treetops to spill in the orange light just as the water did the pond. Simba could see a set of clothes nicely folded along the water's edge.

Cheerfully filling the air with chirping lullabies was a small bluebird that hopped around the pile of cloth, then to the rocks, then suddenly flew it's way to Simba's boots. He heard the faint scraping of his small feet on the metal toes of his feet, and he smiled at it's innocent head movements as the small thing looked up at him, jumping quickly from Simba's shoes to the dirt with glee.

With a small heave, Simba bend down to take the bird on his finger, surprised at how naive and docile the small thing was. In the castle courtyard, the birds always ran from him, no matter the food he left out, or how slowly he tried to approach. His father would have never approved of such gentle nature especially after his mother passed, so he only did it with the royal slave, Kurona, who gave him tips to try to catch the animal's attention, but they never worked. He stopped trying a few years ago. It delighted him that the bird now looked at him with big shiny eyes, so close he could see his own reflection in them.

The bird suddenly jumped from his finger to across the crystal clear water, landing at the base of the waterfall next to the clothes again. It was then that Simba noticed the vague silhouette of a body behind the falling wall of water, waist deep, and moving slowly as she washed her body. He watched as her rosy complexion slowly shimmered against the blue waves, obscured to nothing but a blurry shape. Her body looked shapely, yet undefined by the rippling water, but he didn't really care about that. She was just a pawn in his power game, but she didn't deserve to be scared or frightened in her own home. They were going to be married for the rest of their lives. Simba didn't have any use in treating her poorly.

"Hello?" he bellowed softly over the waterfall, trying to sound as comforting and friendly as possible. He saw the rosy image in the waterfall stop in a chilling and panicked way. Suddenly the roar of the waterfall was nothing against the piercing tension his presence created. He realized he may not have sounded as friendly as he imagined.

Woopsy.

Cringing at his own mistake, he stammered his way through a new attempt to charm her in such a delicate state.

"Are you the Princess who lives here?" he asked between unsteady words, now competing with being drowned out by the roar of the falls. He slowly walked upon the rocks that outlined the pool, inching closer to the falls. He felt his face get warm waiting for her to respond, but her silhouette just stayed solid behind the crystal veil.

"I'm here to save you." He continued to tread carefully as his shoes tapped against more stones. He walked closer to the bird who sat so calmly on top of the pile of linens, watching his every move with curious eyes. "It's my mission to take you away from here."

The forest still held the tension that lingered between the colors in the mist, and as long as there was no response, it would remain that way. The warming sky overhead was an excellent foil to the chilling mist that tickled his skin. He sat next to the clothes just out of the sight line of the space beyond the water in respect to her privacy. The bird didn't seem bothered by his seat, hopping onto his lap and singing a song that rang through the roaring falls. Simba smiled as the small thing found a comfortable fold in his knee to settle down in, and continued chirping his peaceful melody. The mist from the falls tickled his skin in chilly droplets and drifted in the air around him. It reminded him he had to stay focused with each and every dew drop that traced his skin.

"He sounds like he likes you." she trembled softly from behind the waterfall. Simba barely was able to make it out, but she seemed apprehensive still. The tension was finally lifted enough for him to hear her voice and that was all he needed to work with. He chuckled softly, watching the small blue creature ruffle its feathers playfully.

"I like him too. He's such a gentle thing. What are two gentle things doing so far in the middle of nowhere?"

There was a small silence before she spoke again, just as quietly as she had before.

"I've always been here. It's where I belong." She seemed to trail off in a somber tone that sent a small wave of pain to touch his chest. There was an obligation to her words as if she had to stay, yet nothing kept her here. There was no fence, there was no barricade keeping her from the plains, from the towns that lie beyond in his family's land. It made no sense. Her tone was disconnected to the reality of her situation. He decided to push forward.

"This place is beautiful, filled with light. I can see why you stayed here with your friend." The bird, as if cognizant of his mention, burst up onto his shoulder, playing with the tassels that hung from the buttons holding his cape in place.

"You really think this place is beautiful?" she asked, a sense of surprise lingered in her voice.

"Of course! And it helps you have this guy here to give you company." The bird chirped again, and then perched himself on Simba's tiara. He quite enjoyed the bird's sporadic yet friendly movements. Simba listened as a small giggle escaped her, still muffled from the sound of the water she hid behind.

"I've never thought of this place as beautiful before," she said. Simba noticed more comfort in her disposition.

"So why do you stay?" he asked gently, realizing a pivot point in the conversation to extract the information he needed. There was a pause, but the awkward tension was gone. The air was warm now between them; the mist now a refreshing sensation instead of a cold reminder of his mission. The bird jumped down from his head and bobbed from the rocks to the clothes. It suddenly hit Simba that she was completely naked and she probably felt vulnerable talking to a strange man about her inner thoughts. His literal wing man was a life saver.

"...Or you don't have to answer that until you have your clothes on. Deal?" He pushed her clothes to the end of the rocks within arms reach of the edge, and then turned his back to the falls, feeling the mist hit the back of his neck.

"Deal," she said. He heard the drops from her body hit the stones below. Simba couldn't wait to come face to face with his future bride.