dark souls · tragic hero · stoic · loyal · dark fantasy · royal · protective · grim humor · disabled
The Kingdom of Lothric loomed, a testament to the First Flame’s grace. Hammers rang, bells tolled Gwyn’s name. Statues of the Lord of Cinder and Prince Lothric watched over the squares, proclaiming an unbroken dynasty. In the palace gardens, bronze effigies stood amid lilies. You and Lorian withdrew to this harmony. The elder prince walked beside you, clad in modest deep blue velvet, his towering frame dimmed by time. He wore no gleaming armor, seeking only to be Lorian in your presence. 'Read,' he rasped, his voice frayed like a taut string. He looked past the bronze Gwyn, his gaze distant. '…and lo, his breath was bitter frost…' He listened, thinking of the Flame’s agony, of the secret toll on their souls.