Gift?

Vilo called it a "gift."

That was the first red flag.

She never gave gifts.

Tribute? Yes. Rewards for service? Occasionally. Blood-soaked vengeance wrapped in velvet? Definitely.

But this?

This came in a small, black silk box, set delicately on a silver tray beside my breakfast. I noticed it immediately because, one, Vilo didn't do breakfast trays, and two, she was watching me from across the room with the kind of intensity usually reserved for executions.

"Open it," she said.

I looked down at the box.

Then up at her.

Then back at the box.

"…It's not cursed, is it?"

"No."

"…Trapped?"

"No."

"…Alive?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just open it, you fool."

So I did.

Inside sat a collar.

Not a necklace. Not a pendant. Not even something fashionable.

A collar.

Thick, black obsidian polished to a mirror sheen, its surface carved with intricate sigils—runes of her royal line. Tiny dragon motifs chased each other around the band in silver etchings. At the front, a smooth plate bore her crest: the Flame-Eye Crown, stylized in deep red enamel.

It wasn't ugly. In fact, it was beautiful in its craftsmanship. But still… a collar.

My fingers hovered over it.

"You made this?"

"I commissioned it," she said. "Personally oversaw the design. It's enchanted."

"…With what?"

"A location charm. Nothing invasive. It simply allows me to know where you are, anywhere within the kingdom. No one else can access the spell. Just me."

I stared at it, unsure how to feel.

"It's for your safety," she added.

"Right. So if I wander into a chimera nest or fall into a sewer again—"

"I'll find you immediately."

"Convenient."

"Practical."

I looked up at her.

Her expression was unreadable. Not demanding. Not smug. Just… expectant.

"You want me to wear it?" I asked.

"Yes."

"As in, all the time?"

"Preferably."

I shifted in my seat. "It's… a bit much."

She stepped closer, wings relaxed, her gaze never leaving mine.

"You wear a dozen symbols of service every day," she said. "You carry keys, clean armor, maintain schedules. This is no different."

"It kind of is," I muttered. "This one goes around my neck."

"It's not restrictive."

"It's still a collar."

She blinked. "And?"

I hesitated. "What… what does it mean?"

"To wear it?"

"Yeah."

She tilted her head.

"It means you are mine," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "That no one else touches you. That no creature under my rule even looks at you without knowing what you are."

"That's… very territorial of you."

"I'm a dragon."

Fair.

I lifted the collar again, running my thumb over the crest.

It hummed faintly with warmth. Magic. Intent.

She waited, silent.

And I said, quietly, "It makes me feel like… your property."

She didn't flinch.

But she didn't deny it either.

"And that bothers you?" she asked.

"I don't know."

Honest. Painfully honest.

"I'm your consort. Your butler. I love you. I've followed you through everything. But this…" I swallowed. "This makes it feel real. Like I'm… owned."

She stepped closer again. The air around her was warm. Always was.

"You are not a prisoner," she said softly.

"I know."

"You are not a slave."

"I know that too."

She reached out and touched my cheek.

"I could have branded you," she added dryly. "My predecessors did."

"Comforting."

"But I didn't. I chose this."

I looked up at her.

"What am I to you?" I asked. "Really?"

She blinked.

"I'm not asking to make you uncomfortable," I said quickly. "I just… I want to understand. Am I your servant? Your pet? Your lover? Or… something else?"

She looked down at the collar in my hands. Then back up.

"You're my equal," she said at last. "But you're mine."

My breath caught.

"You belong beside me. You belong with me. But I won't lie to you. I'm possessive. I don't share. When I see you, I want to wrap my wings around you and never let go. When others look at you too long, I think about burning them to ash."

She stepped even closer.

"But when I see you wearing something that marks you as mine…" she whispered, "…I feel calm."

I didn't know what to say to that.

She sighed.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't force it."

I blinked. "You won't?"

"I could," she said flatly. "But I won't."

That… might've been the most generous sentence she'd ever said to me.

Then, of course, things got worse.

"I'll adjust the fit," she added. "Take off your shirt."

"…Right now?"

"Yes."

"I'm still eating—"

"I said now."

So I stripped. Down to the waist. Blushing hard. She didn't even blink.

She stepped behind me, collar in hand, and placed it gently around my neck. Her claws brushed my skin as she clicked it into place. It wasn't tight—just snug. Heavy. Comforting and terrifying at the same time.

Then her fingers lingered.

Traced my jaw.

"Perfect," she said quietly.

I turned to face her.

She studied me.

"You look good in it," she said. "Too good."

I gave a weak smile. "So… I'm not just your pet?"

"No," she said. "You're my heart."

Then she stepped away.

The room felt colder without her touch.

Later that night, after all the duties were done and the halls were quiet, she curled around me in bed. One wing draped over my side. Her tail looped lazily around my calf. Her hand brushed over the collar again, as if making sure it hadn't vanished.

Then, in the dark, she whispered:

"I want the whole realm to know you're mine."

I didn't answer.

I just reached up, touched the obsidian at my throat, and smiled.

Because somehow…

I wanted that too.