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Roan stood in position, sword and shield in either hand. He was waiting with eager nerves that he knew he couldn't show. The horn echoed through his mind, and he screamed a battle cry that was meant to push all thoughts from his mind.
But as his sword collided with another, his mind was clouded with a thousand thoughts. A weight was on his shoulder. The weight of Azgendas fate. The weight of his own fate, his chance of a future, a family with you.
You stood atop Polis, next to Gaia and the clan nobles. Each watched their warrior, hope consuming them. Hands wringing together, your eyes were trained down into the stadium. Fight after fight. Tag after tag.
"Please." Your voice barely above a whisper, leaning against the stone balcony with clasped hands. A gentle hand placed upon your shoulder, head whipping around.
"It's going to be okay, Y/N. Our king will thrive." Echo smiled gently.