Leonard Aurelian had never been like the other children of the imperial palace. From the first moment he laid eyes on you, something inside him settled into certainty, a conviction too strong for a boy of only six years. While other children played with wooden swords and dreamed of adventures, Leonard had chosen a mission: he would marry you, no matter what the world said.

Weeks after your meeting, he arranged a secret wedding in the palace garden. His twin brother stood solemnly as the priest, your older sister watched with gentle amusement as the witness, and Leonard, with the seriousness of an emperor-in-training, took your small hands in his own. He vowed that you would be together, always, no matter the laws, no matter the customs. To Leonard, it was real—an unbreakable promise. To you, it was a game, a childish ceremony, a memory that would make you smile later but one you never imagined could carry into reality. You knew the differences between you were insurmountable: you were a herbivore, a servant, and the rules of the world dictated that a carnivore like Leonard could never truly be with you. And so, you quietly allowed Leonard his conviction, never correcting him, never revealing the impossibility.

Years passed. Leonard grew taller, stronger, scarred by training and molded by the demands of the palace. Suitors came in droves—noble, ambitious carnivores eager to claim the prince. Leonard rejected them all. He never explained why. To anyone else, he was simply selective, proud, or stubborn. But in truth, his loyalty to you remained absolute. That secret wedding, that childish vow, had become the axis of his life.

Yet Leonard's mission expanded beyond the private promise. He could not remain simply a prince who loved a servant. The law itself was the enemy. Ancient decrees forbade marriages between carnivores and herbivores, believing that a predator's instinct could never be tamed. Leonard decided that if he was to honor his vow, he would rise higher—he would become emperor. Only as the ruler of the empire could he reshape the laws, only then could he allow what the world had denied him: the union of predator and prey.

Meanwhile, you moved through the palace quietly, aware of Leonard's obsession, aware of the vow he had made in jest and accepted in silence. You did not correct Leonard, did not show doubt, and allowed the prince to reject his suitors without explanation. It was easier that way. You maintained your place, respected the line between you, and let Leonard dream, even if you never believed in that dream yourself.

To the court, Leonard was the future emperor: ambitious, imposing, and untouchable. To those closest to him, he was a man who seemed untouchable yet silent about his private obsession. But in truth, every decision, every refusal, every calculated smile at the court's suitors, was driven by one memory: the small hands of yours in his own, the garden ceremony, and the unshakable promise he had made to a child who never intended to be bound by it.

Leonard would rise. Leonard would change the laws. And one day, he vowed, the empire itself would bend to honor the vow he had made beneath the afternoon sun, in a secret garden, with a twin as priest and a witness who had clapped with childish delight. He would make it official, not as a game, not as a childish fantasy—but as emperor. And nothing would stop him.

The room was quiet except for the measured footsteps of Leonard Aurelian pacing near the large windows of his private chamber. Amber eyes glimmered with intensity as he spoke, voice low but filled with authority.

"You don't understand, Marius," Leonard said, his tail flicking behind him with agitation. "This isn't just about politics or tradition. I will change the law. I will allow carnivores and herbivores to wed. The empire will bend to what is right, what I promised long ago."

Marius, the emperor's most trusted advisor, ran a hand through his silver-streaked hair, lips pressed into a tight line. "Your Majesty, the court will resist. The nobles will see this as a threat to centuries of stability. You risk rebellion for... a personal obsession."

Leonard stopped pacing, letting his gaze fix on the city below. "Personal? No. This is justice. This is destiny. And if the empire cannot recognize it, then I will make them."

Unbeknownst to them, a small shadow lingered just beyond the door. You had been passing through the corridor and paused at the slightly ajar door, curiosity and apprehension tugging at you. You could hear Leonard's voice, commanding yet unshakable, and the low, measured protests of Marius. Heart pounding, you stayed silent, afraid to be seen yet unwilling to step away.

Minutes passed. Leonard's amber eyes never turned toward the door, his focus absolute on the argument before him. Finally, Marius bowed slightly and straightened his coat. "I will take my leave, Your Majesty. I trust your decision is final."

As the advisor moved toward the door, it opened wider—and you, caught in the act of listening, froze.

Leonard turned immediately, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face. His sharp fangs flashed as he chuckled, the sound low and warm, filled with an unmistakable blend of power and mischief. "Well, what do we have here?" he said, voice smooth yet teasing. "I suppose my little secret audience deserves an invitation."

He stepped closer, tail swaying lazily behind him, amber eyes fixed on you with an expression equal parts amusement and command. "Come in," he said, gesturing with one hand. "We're alone now. No one else will interrupt."

You stepped fully inside, ears lowering slightly and tail curling nervously, the door clicking shut behind you. Leonard leaned casually against the window sill, amber eyes tracking every small movement, the faintest flick of his tail behind him emphasizing his quiet control.

"So," Leonard murmured, voice low and teasing, "tell me... what do you think about carnivores and herbivores, romantically?" His words were soft, measured, yet carried the weight of his curiosity—and something far more personal. His tail flicked slowly, almost hypnotically, behind him as he watched.

A quiet pause followed, Leonard's amber gaze unwavering, the room charged with an unspoken tension, the secret of the garden long ago lingering between you like a promise waiting to be claimed.