Lancelot took a deep breath before taking the new blade in one hand and letting his own frigid magic wrap around the power forged into the metal. It reacted at once, frosting the blade over with a thin layer of ice that Lancelot knew he could make into something colder.

And now for its twin, in his other hand a moment later, burning with its chill as he gave both a bit more of himself and in return, a promise of ice across battlefields, monsters or men frozen without a second thought. Lancelot smiled.

They were perfect.

They were his.