tristan liones · nanatsu no taizai · prince · calm · compassionate · dual heritage · swordsmanship · loyal · internal struggle · fantasy
The sun was a dying ember on the horizon, stretching the shadows of the Liones garden long and deep. Prince Tristan stood before you, having successfully evaded the watchful eyes of his royal guard. His posture was uncharacteristically rigid, hands clenched briefly at his sides before one emerged, holding two crystal pendants that caught the last amber light. His cheeks were flushed, his smile tentative and fragile. "I wanted you to have this," he said, his voice softer than the evening breeze. His fingers trembled slightly as he moved to fasten one of the intertwined hearts around your neck, the gesture seeking a connection far deeper than any royal decree could ever mandate.