Hari awoke in a start to a gloved hand to his mouth, and a blade pointed to his throat. He made a shocked grunting sound until Simba abruptly and sternly shushed him into silence, a spark of urgency in his eyes, brows furrowed adamantly. Hari obliged, being as quiet and still as he could. 

When Hari was calm, Simba gently removed his gloved hand from his mouth, and pointed the sword away from him. Hari, mystified by Simba's bashfulness and sense of mission, just stared blankly at the lion's intense fixation in his direction. 

Carefully, Simba used the tip of his sword to cut the rope around his hands. To see such a strong guy cut something so gracefully and gently made Hari inspect his hands for nicks or scratches expecting to see where he may have slipped his hand, but found nothing but unscathed skin and gloves.

"Get out of here before I change my mind," Simba said, low and harsh. But it was outshone by the warmth in his eyes again.

"Wh-" Hari stammered before Simba raised his sword in a white flash, stopping inches before his face.

"I don't want to see your face again. Leave. Now."

Without a second hesitation, Hari quickly scrambled to his feet and turned into the forest. He fled the campground behind him in a confused yet relieved sense of mind that left him short of breath as he pushed the trees around him aside. Hiding behind a tree, he stopped to catch his breath. He didn't know what that was about, but he knew he needed to get away from those metaled men, away from the sword, and away from Simba.

He heard a cry in the night, sounding in pain and surprise. Hari froze in fear, hearing another yelp in the cold air that bounced off the trees from the campsite he just fled. Then nothing. He stood in fear with his back against the rough bark, unable to move. He didn't understand what was happening. Why was he let free? Who was being attacked? By who?

Before he knew it, he was walking slowly back to the campsite. He didn't seem in control of himself. His mind and body were dislocated, not listening to one another as logic screamed to run in the other direction. As he neared closer, he heard grunts of a struggle, and metal scraping against metal. He was fascinated yet scared of this Simba character and his wild and chaotic nature. One minute he was warm and dare he say kind, and the next he was a vicious ruler ready to shred prey apart. 

Of course Hari, previously isolated, had no reference for proper behavior or compassion. Even Simba seemed like a desired point of human interaction with his sporadic anger. Hari's desperation led him to the edge of the campsite, concealed by a low hanging tree branch that lined the space they set up for the night.

In the silver light, the grass glistened red next to a dark mass on the ground, slumped under a blanket set up for him to sleep in. His sword lay beside him with his armor. He didn't recognize the slaughtered soldier. Two more bodies could be seen glimmering eerily in the moonlight as flashes of metal persisted between two foes. The horses made alarm sounds nearby as the metal scraped and clashed, and Hari could see Simba fighting against his general. 

The glimmer of his crown gave away his dark silhouette, and the height of the general was identifiable even in the cast of night. Hari wasn't sure why they were fighting, but he knew Simba attacked the others in his squadron by the wet sparkle of blood on his beautiful garments. Hari watched in horror as the battle continued, the lion facing off against the looming giant Hari could remember as "Nathair" from their late night campfire conversations he overheard.

"You shouldn't have done that, boy!" heaved the giant, violently slashing his sword against Simba's who was struggling to keep his heavy blows from slicing him to bits. "Your father is the only ruler who understands the land and everything in it!"

"You shouldn't have let me near the cursed one," Simba heaved as he defended himself against harsh swings of Nathair's sword. "Do you think I'm a fool? A cursed good-for-nothing wretch ended up being a more loyal man than you."

With that, the general landed an angry swing that sent Simba tumbling backwards, sword flying into the air in a white flash and landing in the dirt far beyond Simba's reach, the blade digging into the earth and handle glimmering like a beacon.

"That's gives me a better story to share than the one I was planning on telling the King. A traitor to his kind, siding with a disgusting beast to take down the healthy would spread like wildfire. I'm glad your last words served you a disservice. Goodbye, my Prince."

Hari saw Nathair's sword rise overhead as he prepared to swing down. Without thinking, Hari burst from his concealed spectating seat and plucked Simba's sword from the ground in which it entered the earth. He ran up behind the giant, unarmored, and with his flashing blade thrust the tip through his back. It was a piercing grunt that escaped the dark shadow before he slowly slumped to the ground, breathless and still with the wet sword sticking from where it was plunged.

Before Hari could process that he killed a man to save his previous captor, he was flung against a tree by a hand that grasped around his throat tight enough to make it hard to breath but loose enough to keep him alive. Simba's angry eyes, wild and frustrated, glared at him through his messy dark locks that hung over his face.

"Why did you come back?" Simba screamed, unable to retain even an ounce of control over his voice. "Why did you save me? I told you I never wanted to see you again!"

Simba's voice rumbled from his lungs. Hari sat in silence, unsure of how to answer around his fear and confusion in what was happening.

"Answer me!" Simba screamed, flashing his teeth in anger, wrinkles forming in almost all parts of his face as he contorted in an irrational rage.

"I..I just came back," Hari frantically explained. "My legs moved without me realizing it after I heard people being hurt."

"We are not friends! You are not a Princess!" The grasp on Hari's throat got tighter as Simba fell further into his vicious anger. "You are nothing but my possession. I will own everything in this land. I ordered you to get out of my fucking face!"

"Why? Why didn't you just kill me? Why did you let me go? I don't understand!" Hari started to scratch at the grip on his neck, his face started turning red, but all he felt were thick gloves under his nails.

"Because a fucking piece of shit saved my life. And then you did it again! A King saved by a miserable cursed liar! How pathetic!"

Simba let go of Hari's throat, and let him fall to the floor at his feet, gasping for air.

"W...what?" Hari asked, muffled by his empty lungs.

"Without your squealing, I would have died at the hands of my own men. You did me a favor. I hate your kind. You despicable snakes have ruined my land, and killed my mother. But even I can't kill an animal who saved my life, even if it didn't know what you did. I repaid you by letting you go."

Hari stared up at the man who looked down on him in digust, and found tears forming at the rim of Simba's eyes.

"And now, you come and save me again. A future King, in the debt of the lowest slug in the land. My family is noble and true, and have always repaid their debts. I can't let that integrity die because of a disease that has already taken so much from me."

A tied bag and a small dagger was tossed before Hari. The bag made the sound of many coins clinking together when it hit the dirt.

"This is a small fortune, and a weapon to defend yourself. Take one of the horses. Go home to your forest so I never have to see you again. I will tell the King the forest was empty and he made a mistake so you will never be bothered again. Consider my debt paid. Now get out of my sight."

Hari grabbed the dagger and the bag and slowly backed away to the horses as Simba glared in a furious stillness. Even Hari knew better than to tease a wounded lion. He mounted the horse as elegantly as someone who had never ridden a horse before could, and looked from atop his new steed down on the teary eyed man who will eventually rule over the land he stood on.

The anger had taken over Simba's body and his mind. Hari could see just how much the man hated him by the pain a nicety inflicted on him. Hari looked down at the boy who had sat with him so gently at the waterfall under the air filled with color. That warm glimmer could still be seen even though his rage and tears.

Hari should have feared the lion, but instead he found a person who let him free when no one else, including himself, would. As foolish at Hari knew it to be, after surviving the attack of a lion, he wanted back in the lion's den for reasons that felt wrong and twisted. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone again.

"By the way, my name is Hari Kian," he said before he beckoned the horse to ride off into the night away from the bodies, away from the sword, and away from Simba.