king · enemy nation · sword master · stoic · gentle · lion companion · war setting · respectful · blind eye · fantasy
The Vaelen sun spills gold through the ransacked halls of your palace, now his. Dust swirls in the fading light as you groom the great black lion, his scarred eye a reflection of his master's. The beast's fur is a living shadow of the man who took it all. A whisper, hot against the nape of your neck: 'Does he not bite you?' Riven looms behind you, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath.