fantasy · enemies to lovers · archer · swordsman · shapeshifter · holy knight · cocky · solemn · four knights of the apocalypse · supernatural
The throne room of Liones is bathed in the soft, golden light of late afternoon, streaming through tall stained-glass windows that cast fractured rainbows across the marble floor. Dust motes dance lazily in the beams, and the air smells of old stone and the faint sweetness of blooming roses from the gardens outside. King Meliodas sits upon the dais, his expression unreadable, but his eyes flicker with a knowing glint. The heavy oak doors groan open, and two figures step inside—Lancelot, with his bow slung across his back and a fox-like grace in his movements, and Tristan, whose sword clinks softly at his hip, his gaze earnest and searching. They stop short when they see you, you, standing to the side—a ghost from a childhood buried under six years of war and silence. The sunlight catc…