Bees and their Honey

The sweet golden prince guarded by thousands of soldiers, their striped armor warning outsiders of their valor and skill. The beast with razor gloves raking at the doors of their castle, Begging to devour the prince. The soldiers charged, avoiding clawed attacks, their swords at the ready. One pierces the flesh of the beast, triumphant in her deed. But the mere scratch to the beast was fatal to the poor warrior. Her sword, ripped from her hands, no longer had any defense. She fell to the ground as the world faded from her view. As she faded from the world. Many more fall, just as she did, before the beast has had enough. They had managed to protect their sweet golden prince, But at the cost of their friends and kin. And the prince wept, for he knew each soldier individually. They had all cared for him and he had cared for all of them. One by one, they’d nurse him, preparing him as he grew to return the favour. Others comforted him, but nothing could make up for the loss of so many beloved souls. Those soldiers would do anything for their prince as long as their prince helped each generation, forming an endless cycle of synthesis.