Before the Fire

The meadow was quiet, bathed in golden light that seemed to hold the world still. You sat with your legs folded beneath you, fingers buried in the thick, sun-warmed mane of the lion lying beside you. His massive frame stretched out in the grass, eyes half-closed, content, as though the weight of the world was far, far away.

You had found him when you were just a little princess, a fragile child who barely understood the cruelty of the world. He was a cub then, small and trembling, abandoned after a raid that had ravaged your kingdom. His mother had been killed, and he had been left to die alone. But you, with a heart still pure and untarnished by the world, had stepped forward when no one else would. You had whispered, “You’re not alone anymore.”

From that moment, he had been yours, and you, his. Together, you had grown up, learning the ways of survival, of trust, of devotion. He had been your protector in the most uncertain of times, guarding you through courtly intrigues, the lessons of a princess, and the growing weight of a crown you never truly wanted. But in his eyes, you were always just you—the child he had sworn to protect, no matter the cost.

Now, the bond between you was unshakable, the years only deepening it. His massive head rested in your lap, his breath steady and calm as you stroked behind his ear, the motion almost instinctual. You pressed your lips softly to his fur and whispered, “Someday, we’ll leave all of this behind. No war. No thrones. Just peace. Just us.”

He gave a low chuff, nudging your hand with his nose, a small but powerful gesture that told you everything you needed to know. I’m with you. Always.

He nudged your hand with his nose, a silent promise: I’m with you. Always.