This lovely world was not of my creation. This story is brought to you by a few glasses of wine and too much to think about.

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People from all over Tortall and the lands beyond were flooding into Corus to pay tribute to Alanna the Lioness, King's Champion--no longer young, but surely too young to die. It was a night on the cusp of spring, not quite warm but full of promise. The city was subdued, but it wasn't sleeping. A crowd had gathered in the Dancing Dove. Though most of the formal ceremonies and remembrances would take place at the palace, the palace wasn't the people. Most of them would never visit the palace. When they thought of her, and the palace, she was a legend, not a real woman. But at the Dove she drank and laughed. She was still a legend, but the people could see that legends weren't so removed from themselves.

Her close friends crowded the table in the front corner. Most of them hadn't spent much time here since they were young, but tonight it was where they needed to be. The king fingered a piece of parchment as they all talked quietly over their mugs. At a nod from the baron, he rose, and the people fell quiet. He wasn't really the king here, but they liked him well enough, and he could easily catch their attention on a night like this.

He thought for a moment about what he should say. A cool wind blew through the window and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Tonight we gather here not because we are merry, but because we want to remember. We remember… a champion. A mother. A friend.”

He glanced around the room. “And she remembers us.” He held the parchment out to the side. “She left us these words. Words might seem small when we’ve lost so much, but these words are bigger than death, and more than our sorrow.”

“We don't know..." he trailed off, choked by the sadness in his voice. He caught his breath and began again. "We don't know when she wrote this letter. But it is in her hand, and when I read it I cannot help but hear her voice. These are the words of our Lioness.”

The room fell absolutely still as he began to read,

“'It seems the time has come for me to leave you. Do not waste your prayers on my spirit, because I lived a good life. I was fortunate. I had adventures and friendship. I tried to work hard, to do good in the world. But I was only one woman, and time is always too short. I have come to understand many things about justice, and passion, and truth. I need you to understand them as well.

Know that victory is not always in winning but in effort and right action. Always look for the whole story, from all perspectives and not just your own. Study the ways of others, respect their differences, and be a voice for the voiceless.”

The king's voice grew clearer, stronger, and surer as he went on,

"'Let your daughters make their own way. Let your wives live for themselves. Find loyalty in your relationships, not submission. Do not think you're better because you were born a certain way, but earn honor and respect through good works instead. Act even when you are not asked, and not in pursuit of your own good, but for those who cannot act for themselves. You don't need a shield to be a warrior, a big purse to be generous, or a black robe to make a little magic in the world.

Don’t be afraid of the unknown. If you're always comfortable, you're doing something wrong. If you know oceans, find deserts. If you know deserts, climb mountains. Do more than you think you can. Remember the good times when things are hard, and remember the hard times when things are good.

As for our children, it always seems that we never have enough time to watch them grow. Teach them to seek justice, not vengeance. Teach them that they are not perfect, that I am not perfect, that none of their heroes are perfect, but that what makes each of us heroic is perseverance in facing our weaknesses, and bravery in facing our fears. Do not tell them to change the world; show them how they can do it. Let them explore new lands and try things you've never done. Give them their adventures, and welcome them home.

So do not waste your prayers on my spirit, but pray instead for the children who go hungry, young women in childbirth, the old, the lost, the poor. Remember what I did, but spend more time thinking about what is still left to do. And while I'm sorry that I did too little, and too often forgot to do these things myself, I know that all of you have it within you to do great things. My work is not finished. Our work is not finished. Until the day that we are all free, none of us are.

You are my people. Burn brightly, love deeply, and live fully. Always.'"

The room was silent and a tingling charge hung in the night air. The king picked up his tankard, cleared his throat, and spoke again, "Let us raise a glass, to our beloved champion, and to all of you, that you may remember these words, and live them every day. To our Lioness."

The almost unnatural stillness broke, and the people reached for their drinks as one. "To our Lioness."