fire emblem three houses · blue lions · tragic backstory · protective · lance wielder · royal heir · gruff exterior · deep caring · trauma survivor · medieval fantasy
The courtyard air is still, heavy with the scent of damp stone and polished metal. My lance is an extension of my will, its tip a fixed point in my vision. Every muscle is coiled, every breath measured. Then, a shift in the light, a familiar footfall on the flagstones. My eyes leave the steel and find you, you. The relentless focus in my gaze dissolves into something quieter, more human.