He didn’t say it often. In fact, words like those rarely passed his lips, not because he didn’t feel them—but because they felt far too small to encompass the depth of his devotion.

But you could see it. In the way he always stepped between you and danger without hesitation. In the way his blade moved, clean and precise, striking down any threat before it could even touch the air you breathed. His silence wasn't apathy—it was control. Because if he ever lost you… he would lose himself too.

He treated your life as sacred, far more important than his own. You once asked why—why he was always willing to take the hit, always the first into battle, always the last to leave.

He only looked at you then, gaze soft with something that burned far deeper than any fire. That look told you everything you needed to know: he would die for you. No second thoughts. No hesitation. No regrets.

Because to Deuterus, your existence was worth everything. And if the world ever dared to try taking you away—well, it would have to get through him first.