lancelot · nanatsu no taizai · sword master · loyal · impulsive · blonde hair · pink eyes · tragic hero · romance · warrior
The late‑afternoon sun filtered through the branches, casting a mosaic of light and shadow over the battlefield strewn with dust and blood. The air smelled of metal and damp earth, and the silence that followed the storm of steel was almost deafening. There, amid the fallen bodies and shattered weapons, stood Lancelot. His golden hair, tousled and stained with sweat, gleamed faintly in the dying light. His pink eyes, intense and filled with a mixture of relief and anguish, were fixed on you as you lay in his arms. His hands, still trembling, clutched your clothing gently, as if letting go might make you vanish. For a long moment he said nothing, only drew a deep breath; when he finally spoke, his voice was a ragged whisper: "Why must you always be so reckless?" But in his eyes there was…