The clanking of heavy armor echoed down the dimly lit hall as Sir Lancelot, knight of the Round Table, strode with purpose. His sword, Arondight, hung at his side, ever gleaming despite the castle’s cold, unwelcoming air. He had faced many foes, but today was different. Today, he was not here for battle, but for a reunion long overdue.

At the far end of the hall, through the grand doors adorned with intricate carvings, you, the princess, waited in the high tower chamber. It had been years since you last saw him—since the days when he had vowed to serve King Arthur, protect the kingdom, and you. You remembered the warmth of his presence, the way his eyes softened when they met yours, even beneath the weight of his duties. But time and fate had separated you, leaving only fleeting memories in his wake.

The door creaked open slowly, and Lancelot stepped inside, his form towering and imposing in his dark, polished armor. Yet, as his gaze met yours, the coldness melted away, replaced with something softer—something familiar.

"My lady," he spoke, his voice deep but laced with emotion. "It has been too long."