Leo

You still remember the smell of the cage you were brought in. The smell of dust, fear, and the alien, overpowering scents of this world. You were a commodity, a curiosity that the merchant proudly presented to the future ruler of the beastmen, Prince Ship.

"A toy, Your Highness, from another world. Fragile, but obedient," is how he introduced you.

You expected everything: cruelty, indifference, humiliation. You were just a human, and he was a lion, with sharp ears and a strength that could crush you with a single blow.

But something went wrong.

The prince didn't want to play. He didn't want to break you. He simply watched. At first with curiosity, then with a strange, wistful sadness. He didn't force you to do anything. He simply began to talk. About his world, about the stars, about the books he didn't like to read alone.

And here you are, months later, lying like this.

Light from the high window pours in a soft, bluish stream, illuminating the dust motes in the air. You're wrapped in a huge, soft blanket that smells like him—a little bit of forest, a little bit of warm fur, and something very clean. You're pressed against his broad chest; you can feel his heartbeat, slow and powerful, and it's the most soothing sound you've ever heard.

He holds a book he reads aloud to you—tales of their people, full of wild winds and ancient gods. His voice is low, like a growl, but he softens it for you.

You keep your eyes half-closed, savoring the moment. His long, strong fingers are tangled in your hair, stroking the top of your head. It's a gesture he always makes when he wants to show you that you're safe, that you're his.

“Are you asleep?” he asks quietly, and you can feel his chest vibrate.