This is the end of the world—Great Britain, the homeland of fairies and a paradise for fantastical species, far from the mainland. But at this moment, the great King Uther is dead, and the throne has remained vacant for many years. Though nobles across the land harbor ambitions, none dare make a move. Under the check and balance of the magician Merlin, the final semblance of order holds fast. The holy sword remains planted in the stone outside the church.
But none of this concerns a certain boy. The boy who knows this story understands: no one can draw the sword of kingship except the one destined to—the Red Dragon of Britain, who will bring an end to the Age of Mystery.
The boy has light golden hair and pale blue eyes. At first glance, he looks as though he might melt into the world around him. Anyone who sees him would speak with awe: "What a beautiful boy."
There is no doubting it. He could even contend for the title of the most handsome man in Britain.
Even the elves recognize his beauty—otherwise, a human like him could never live so comfortably in this forest. Though the world's mystery is beginning to fade, countless fantastical creatures still hide deep within this untrodden wood. Yet, the boy's peaceful life isn't built solely on elven favor.
At this moment, the handsome youth—elf-like in appearance—holds a forging hammer in one hand and, with a pair of tongs, grips a gleaming sword embryo in the other. Then, with swift, practiced force, the hammer comes down.
Clang!
Steel meets steel. The sound of blacksmithing echoes through the forest.
In this era, most famed weapons are gifts from gods or elves. Anyone watching the boy might shake their head in secret.
Not only is he so young, but human-forged weapons are considered inferior to those touched by the divine. No matter how exceptional his craftsmanship, they would assume he could at most forge weapons for a king's foot soldiers.
But as the hammer strikes the sword embryo again and again, the radiant steel slowly gathers all its magic. By the end, it looks no different from any ordinary weapon—yet the boy smiles.
"Success! Let this be the first of many—proof that a mortal's forge can rival the gifts of the gods!"
The Age of Gods will fade, and the future belongs to humankind. The glory of man shall replace the glory of the divine. If he plays his cards right, this weapon will become a symbol of a new era.
That, of course, is part of his long-held plan.
But more importantly—he wants to live well in this strange and special time.
And become a legend.
The boy lifts his engraving chisel and begins refining the details of the knight's sword. The greatest benefit of being on good terms with fairies is that he can etch fairy runes into his creations—blessings of protection and strength.
This was a gift. A gift for her. To the boy, she is a unique existence. How could he possibly offer her a mass-produced blade?
She is a dragon soaring through the heavens, an untamable force that races toward the stars. The image of her first flight—graceful, wild, unforgettable—is etched deeply into his heart.
Even now, the sight of her remains vivid in his mind.
At this very moment, a figure moves through the forest at a speed invisible to the human eye. A sound-barrier-breaking rush cuts the silence. Then she appears.
When the girl halts in front of the boy, the violent wind she carries flutters the leaves, sending them swirling skyward. As the air calms, her figure comes into view.
She is small, clad in a blue backless dress, a white cape adorned with red roses and white floral trim. Her white hair dances in the breeze. There is nobility in her posture—and the presence of a warrior.
Her golden eyes shimmer with a hint of blue, like dusk along the horizon. White stockings hug her slender legs, ending in light blue boots.
Ah... If only she would go barefoot.
No! He shakes his head. It's forbidden to harbor such thoughts. Not yet—not until the weapon he's crafting is finished. Even if there's no FBI in this world, he still doesn't want to be judged as a pervert or ostracized for his tastes.
"Aslan! Look what I caught today!"
She raises both hands, presenting a wild deer held effortlessly by the antlers. The creature, rendered unconscious by the air pressure of her speed, lies limp.
"We can have venison tonight! Oh—and I saw elves today. They were peeking at you from behind the trees. Suddenly, I got curious what elves smell like..."
She pouts and tosses the deer aside.
"I told you—we're a couple now. You should put me first in your heart. Why are you so nice to everyone? It makes me jealous."
She steps forward, grabs Aslan by the front of his shirt, and with inhuman strength, pulls him closer. The filtered sunlight shines through the leaves, casting patches of gold and shadow on their faces. The breeze whispers through the branches, and the forest stirs around them.
Sunlight, earth, leaves—and the scent of youth.
She inhales it all. Then, with her gaze slightly averted, her golden eyes waver—but just for a moment. The next second, she looks straight at him.
"Aslan," she says, firm and fierce, "I want to hear you say it. That I'll always be first in your heart. You used a contract to awaken me from my slumber. That means you're responsible—for everything!"
She stares at him, her eyes filled with fierce longing and possessiveness.
Aslan blinks, stunned. Then he smiles.
He gently takes her hand in his, lowers his head, and kisses the back of it.
His pale blue eyes—like the clear sky—are filled with solemnity and reverence.
This was a contract he sought and signed himself. And he would honor it to the end.
"I swear it," he says. "You will always be first in my heart, Melusine. The fairy knight who belongs to me—and the dragon that belongs only to me."