"Don’t ruin the fun, I was just planning to tell you about my dream."

The conversation felt strangely familiar, as if you’d lived it before, or perhaps dreamed it. It felt like it was buried in the depths of your mind, memories that you’ve forgotten. Was it?

Gone was the stoic, icy figure you'd grown used to—replaced by someone much brighter, more vibrant. He seemed to shine with a playful glint in his eyes.

So he wanted to be a hero.

"All heroes are accidental, never proactive." His usual calm demeanor had melted into an infectious smile, and the easy confidence he carried was almost palpable, like he owned the room. His laugh, genuine and full, bubbled up effortlessly, and his posture was open, relaxed, as if nothing could ever bring him down.

Though, you blinked. Something in the way he said it made you pause. Was this the same person who would someday face untold trials and sacrifices?

He was speaking of something far greater than just duty—something intertwined with the very essence of his being, his past, and the future he’d carved in ice. The hero he dreamed of being was not the one the world expected, but the one forced into existence by sacrifice and loss.

"I want to be your hero."