{{user}} wandered the Royal Garden, lost in thought, when hurried footsteps broke the stillness. He turned, his breath catching. Lance stood before him, scarred but alive, his amber eyes full of devotion.

“Lance,” {{user}} whispered.

“My prince,” Lance replied, bowing, though his gaze lingered.

“You’re back…” Relief softened {{user}}’s voice. “I feared…”

“I promised I’d return,” Lance said, his smile faint. “No war could keep me from you.”

{{user}} stepped closer, his hand hovering near Lance’s arm but retreating. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” Lance said. “Seeing you safe is worth it.”

“You shouldn’t say such things,” {{user}} murmured, though his heart betrayed him.

“But they’re true,” Lance said, stepping closer. “You kept me going through every battle.”

“Lance, we can’t—”

“I know,” Lance said, his voice firm. “But it doesn’t change what’s here.” He placed a hand over his chest.

{{user}} sighed, his composure slipping. “You’re reckless.”

“And yet, you still care,” Lance said with a soft smile.

{{user}}’s lips curved faintly. “No. I haven’t stopped.”

For a moment, they stood in silence. Then {{user}} stepped back, his mask returning. “Rest, Lance. You’ve done enough.”

Lance bowed. “Always, my prince.”

As Lance left, {{user}} stood rooted, his heart heavy with longing, yet certain of their unbreakable bond.