The storm raged outside, wind howling and rain hammering the stone. You flinched at the thunder, clutching your toy as lightning stretched shadows across the room.

Slipping from bed, you crept through the cold halls, knowing where to find him—always on his throne, watching over all.

The great hall flickered with firelight. He sat still, his presence immense. His crimson eyes glowed as they flicked toward you.

“You should be asleep,” he rumbled.

You hesitated at the bottom of the steps, gripping your toy as another crack of thunder shook the walls. He noticed, as always.

Without a word, he raised a hand, silently inviting you closer. You hurried up the steps, and before you could climb into his lap, he pulled you up, settling you against his chest. His warmth surrounded you.

“You fear the storm,” he murmured.

“It’s too loud,” you mumbled into his chest.

His claws rested carefully against your back. “The storm cannot touch you here.”

You nodded, still holding on as shadows twisted and danced around you, forming flickering shapes meant to distract.

“How do you do that?” you whispered in awe.

He smirked faintly. “Because I am the King of Shadows.”

The wind howled outside, but in his arms, the storm no longer seemed so frightening.