There has been a great deal of talk about the intrepid Duke and Duchess of Sussex returning to Britain and walking straight back into the lion’s den.
But perhaps we have the symbolism entirely wrong.
Harry and Meghan are not two frightened creatures edging nervously into hostile territory. Harry is the lion. Meghan is the lioness—and, just to make the metaphor almost too deliciously perfect, the Duchess of Sussex is a Leo.
Forget the lion’s den.
The lion and lioness have arrived.
When Harry and Meghan left Britain in 2020, they were portrayed as reckless, naïve and hopelessly unprepared for life beyond the Palace gates. How could they possibly survive without the vast royal machine behind them? Who would organize their engagements, manage their image, arrange their travel and open the doors?
The assumption was that, stripped of the machinery of monarchy, they would eventually discover that they were not nearly as important as they imagined.
Six years later, they are still here.
Not merely surviving, either. They have crossed continents, created businesses, established charitable initiatives, raised two children and built a global identity entirely separate from the institution Harry was born into.
They did not disappear without the Palace arranging the lighting. They learned to make their own light.
Consider the places they have gone.
In Jamaica, they swept into the premiere of Bob Marley: One Love, relaxed, smiling and entirely at ease. There was no royal household constructing an itinerary and no palace press office controlling the photographs. Yet there they were, seated among political leaders, entertainment executives and Jamaican society, attracting precisely the sort of attention once presumed to be available to them only through the Crown.
Then came Nigeria. Their three-day visit in 2024 had many of the elements of a traditional royal tour: schoolchildren, dignitaries, speeches, cultural events, military personnel and enormous crowds. But it was undertaken independently, following an invitation from Nigeria’s chief of defence staff and centred on the Invictus Games, mental health, wounded soldiers and women’s empowerment.
There was Meghan, elegant and luminous, speaking to women alongside one of the most accomplished figures in international public life. There was Harry playing seated volleyball with wounded veterans and speaking about the restorative power of sport.
They did not require a balcony, a gold carriage or a military band dispatched by Buckingham Palace. The reception belonged to them.
Three months later, they travelled to Colombia at the invitation of Vice-President Francia Márquez. Once again, they met officials, young people, community leaders and women working for change. They discussed online safety, mental health, cultural identity and the dangers children face in the digital world.
Whatever their critics chose to call the visit, Harry and Meghan had demonstrated something important: they could carry out a substantial international programme under their own banner.
Canada offered another stage. At the Invictus Games in Vancouver and Whistler, Harry was not simply a prince making a ceremonial appearance. He was the founder of a movement he had built over more than a decade. The competitors, their families and the international community surrounding the Games were there because an idea Harry championed had developed into something lasting.
Ukraine offered an even more serious test. Harry travelled to Lviv and later to Kyiv to support wounded military personnel and explore how the Invictus community could assist their recovery. This was not a glamorous expedition designed to produce beautiful photographs. It was a journey into a country at war, undertaken by a veteran who has made the rehabilitation of injured service members one of his life’s central missions.
That is intrepid.
And then there is everything the Sussexes built at home. They established a life in California, secured commercial partnerships, produced a documentary series that became a global talking point and created a foundation supporting causes from mental health to disaster relief. Harry published one of the most discussed memoirs of modern times. Meghan launched a podcast, returned to social media on her own terms and developed As Ever into a lifestyle business bearing her unmistakable imprint.
Not every venture was an unqualified success. Some partnerships ended. Some projects were criticized. Some ideas landed beautifully; others did not.
But that is what an independent life looks like. Real. Challenging. Dramatic. Evolving.
The Palace could absorb disappointments behind ancient walls and institutional mystique. Harry and Meghan had to experience theirs in public, with an enormous industry eagerly announcing their demise after every setback.
Still, they survived.
They survived the loss of royal security. They survived the withdrawal of financial support. They survived family estrangement, court battles, commercial turbulence and a level of press hostility that would have driven quieter people permanently from public life. They survived being called irrelevant while generating headlines merely by entering a restaurant. And, perhaps most importantly, they survived as a couple.
Moving away allowed Harry and Meghan to develop identities independent of the monarchy—and independent of William and Catherine. It also gave them the space to cement their union without courtiers, palace busybodies and professional onlookers influencing their every move.
That matters now because the couple returning to Britain are not the same couple who left. Harry knows what it means to lose the protection of the institution and continue without it. Meghan knows that she can enter a room in Lagos, Kingston, Bogotá, Vancouver or New York and command attention without borrowing a tiara from the royal vault.
She has been battle-tested.
And like the lioness, Meghan’s strength may be most visible when she is protecting her family. She has raised her children largely beyond the reach of the royal circus, built a home thousands of miles from the country that bruised her and returned to public life at a pace of her own choosing.
Harry, meanwhile, has discovered that being a prince and being a man are not necessarily the same thing. One was bestowed upon him at birth. The other had to be forged through loss, conflict, fatherhood and survival.
The lion is traditionally called the king of the jungle—not because he is constantly fighting, but because his presence is unmistakable. He does not need to explain why he belongs there. He simply does. That may be the real significance of Harry and Meghan’s return.
They do not need to conquer Britain. They do not need to defeat William and Catherine, humiliate the courtiers or extract a public apology from every newspaper editor who ever mocked them. They do not even need to become working royals again. Their victory is that they can return without surrendering the independent life they fought to create.
The Palace still has its ancient walls. The courtiers still have their whispers. The tabloids are undoubtedly sharpening their claws. But Harry and Meghan have crossed deserts of their own. They have travelled, built, stumbled, recovered and kept moving. They know now that they can exist beyond the monarchy because they have already done it.
So forget the frightened couple walking into the lion’s den.
Harry is the lion. Meghan is the lioness. And this time, they are calm and knowing, with nothing to prove.
Photo by ChatGPT
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