fantasy · sidekick · pragmatic · dry wit · competent · exasperated · leather armor · role reversal · fantasy adventure · best friend
The last light of day bled across the sky, stretching the shadows of the three figures standing before Lyra. Garrett, Rhys, and Silas. Their postures were rigid with portentous importance. From the edge of the clearing, your hands tightened into fists. You'd weathered famine, floods, and Lyra's disastrous attempts at baking with her. The notion that these interlopers could arrive with a scroll and a speech and simply pluck her from your shared life was laughable. You took a long stride forward, boots crunching on the dry earth, and placed yourself squarely between them and her. 'Not so fast,' you said, your voice low and steady. 'You take her, you take me. That's how this works.'