I Will Always Be With You

The balcony was quiet, warm with late morning sun. I had just finished sweeping the marble tiles and was leaning over the railing, watching the clouds roll lazily over the horizon. The air smelled like stone and roses.

Behind me, I heard her voice.

"I sent General Karth to spend the day with his family."

I turned. Vilo was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her hair tied back in a long silver braid.

"It's his birthday," she added, as if clarifying something beneath her usual cool tone.

"Oh," I said, smiling faintly. "That's nice."

She walked toward me, wings folding gently behind her. "That reminds me... when's your birthday?"

I hesitated.

"Five hours ago."

She blinked.

"What?"

I scratched the back of my head. "Technically today. Just... earlier."

Silence.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I could feel the tension rising in the air.

"You didn't tell me," she said flatly.

"I didn't think it was that important."

She stared at me. Then looked away.

Her claws tightened slightly.

"I should have known," she muttered. "Of course you'd say something like that."

She began pacing slowly along the balcony, visibly bothered.

"I don't have anything ready. I didn't prepare a gift. Do you want jewelry? A seat on my war council? Land?"

"I—what? No, I don't need—"

She spun around. "Then what?"

"I'm fine. Really."

Wrong answer.

She glared at me, frustration twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"That doesn't work on me," she said. "You know that."

She stepped closer. "You always ask for the bare minimum. A hug. A glance. A few words. Is that all I'm worth to you?"

My heart jumped. "No! It's not that. I just…"

She waited.

And then, quietly, "Tell me what you want."

I opened my mouth.

She raised a hand. "Actually, no. Don't."

I blinked.

"I already know what you'll say," she muttered. "You'll ask for a hug. Or some idiotic little thing."

I hesitated.

And then said it anyway.

"A hug… and a kiss?"

She stared at me.

Then closed her eyes.

And sighed.

"Fine."

She pulled me gently into her arms. Her embrace was warm, soft—careful, like always. Her wings brushed against my back, enclosing us both in the shadow of her affection.

Then she leaned in and kissed me on the forehead.

"Happy birthday," she whispered.

When she pulled back, I smiled.

She frowned.

"That's all you want?"

I nodded.

"Ugh. Next year," she muttered, "I won't be defeated so easily."

I laughed.

And for a second, so did she.

The days grew softer.

I still worked—duties, schedules, palace maintenance—but I spent more time just… being with her. Sometimes brushing her hair. Sometimes organizing her jewelry. Sometimes sitting beside her on the throne while she worked, handing her documents and watching her sign them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I pampered her more with every passing day.

She didn't ask for it.

But she didn't stop me.

And over time, her small reactions became all I needed. The slight tilt of her head when I touched her wings. The quiet way she hummed when I massaged her shoulders. The rare, barely-there smile when I prepared her favorite tea before she asked.

We had found a rhythm.

And I didn't want it to break.

So of course… it did.

---

I was running an errand—nothing major, just delivering a crate of supplies to one of the outer halls—when it happened.

A large figure rounded the corner and slammed into me.

Hard.

The crate dropped. I stumbled. And before I could even apologize, a massive, snorting minotaur loomed over me. Tall. Broad. Smelling like dirt and blood.

"The Queen's pet," he sneered, cracking his knuckles. "So this is the human she coddles."

"I'm just her butler," I said carefully. "I'm not trying to—"

"She should've picked someone stronger," he growled. "Someone worthy. Not a weak little worm."

He grabbed me by the collar and slammed me into the wall.

My ribs hurt. My vision spun.

Then I heard it.

The click of heels.

The shift of wings.

And death.

The minotaur froze.

Too late.

In the span of two heartbeats, his arm bent the wrong way with a snap. Then the other. Then his legs collapsed beneath him as a clawed foot crushed his knee.

He screamed—until Vilo grabbed his head and seared his eyes with a flash of dark flame.

Silence.

She stood there, breathing calmly, her hand still smoking.

Then she turned to me.

Her expression was calm—but her eyes were anything but.

"You are never leaving my side again," she said coldly.

I coughed. "It's really okay, I just—"

"No," she said, stepping closer. "I gave you freedom because I trusted the world not to be stupid. That was my mistake."

She placed a hand gently on my cheek—her claws still dripping blood.

"You will not leave my side. Not in the palace. Not in the city. Not anywhere."

I nodded slowly. "Even the bathroom?"

She paused.

"…You may go to the toilet alone," she muttered.

"Oh. Thanks."

"But don't make me regret it."

She helped me stand.

And as we walked back—her arm around me, tail coiled protectively—every pair of eyes that saw us quickly looked away.

No one dared approach.

Because I wasn't just her servant.

I was hers.

And she had made it very, very clear—

She wasn't going to lose me.