Lioren watched the older him block, he spun, he bled but not every strike could be turned aside as he made sure the little ones survives. He listened as steel found flesh again and again, crimson blooming across his chest as he staggered yet refused to fall, his body a crumbling fortress for the children he loved more than life.
After fighting for some time, the older him knees hit the marble, but his body stayed upright, a blood-slick wall between the children and the attackers. The assassin's sword slid free of his ribs with a wet hiss, blood rushed down him in rivers. He swayed, Lionheart clattering from numb fingers, yet his arms never dropped from their protective arc.
Behind him, Aslan's small voice cracked through the smoke. ''Uncle Lio, no!''
