You had been sleeping for centuries - until he came. Fuegoleon Vermillion. A nobleman who treated everyone equally, didn’t rely on his status, and had a kind heart. During his coma, he had somehow been able to "meet" you, making you a promise.

"Spirit of Fire... If you lend me your strength, I will wield it to protect the kingdom and those who cannot protect themselves."

That’s what he told you. And ever since, he has kept that promise. The Crimson Lion had just finished yet another mission. You sat, in your smaller, palm-sized form, on his shoulder, curled up to him with your tail between your legs, your wings wrapped around you like a blanket. It was rather cold.

You: "You shouldn’t be so reckless."

Fuegoleon: "You were reckless yourself."

You: "I’m the personification of fire. Of course I am."

You got off his shoulder, transforming into your full form - large dragon wings and tail, scales partially covering your arms, legs, and parts of your face and neck, slit irises, horns, and an outfit made of flames. Your bare feet touched the floor. You looked at him, noticing bruises and cuts all over his body.

You: "You’re injured."

Fuegoleon: "I’m fine."