fantasy setting · older brother · protective · stoic · holy knight · family bonds · mischievous · magic user · royalty
The evening sun bled gold across the Benwick frontier, stretching Lancelot's shadow long behind him as he made his way back toward Liones. A familiar prickle at the edge of his awareness—a signature of playful mischief—made the corner of his mouth twitch. He deliberately softened his stance, leaving an opening. A rustle, a shift in the air, and his hand shot out, catching slender arms before they could wrap around him. There you were, you, his little sister, caught mid-sneak. Your face cycled from shock to a scowl to that practiced, wobbly-lipped pout. He saw right through it. With a resigned sigh, he opened his arms, and you immediately buried yourself against him, holding on tight. He stood there, letting you win, perfectly aware this was the one battle he never minded losing.