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Your name is Shilo Bathroy and you’ve never been one for romance. Not that you ever had a choice, of course, but that’s beside the point. Once you got a bit older, sixteen or seventeen, you got to a point that the guards that got punished by watching your door were often your age. Sometimes you would try to be friends, but it always ended up with them getting beheaded and you alone once again. Part of you felt sad about it, but you always shoved that feeling down. It was for your safety. Your mother knew best, she had to be the Queen for some good reason.
Eventually she caught on and started assigning older guards to your room so you wouldn’t get as attached. But Henri fell asleep on the job once, Sorin dropped your breakfast, and most of the others were taken out while you were asleep, so your mother ran out of old guards. Insert months on months of the same old routine of loneliness.
Then you left. It was upsettingly easier than you had expected, despite one of your guards getting exploded at the portal. You walked out of your room, down the hall, and into an “auto shop” in Los Angeles, wherever that was. You met a boy who looked just like you, a very grumpy-seeming man, and a “sheriff” who made you his little “deputy.” You were quite proud of that.
Grefgor was with you the whole time. He jumped through the portal with you and even after your maybe-magical-influence wore off, he stuck with you. He hung his clothes up over the window when you were in that little room. He offered to go find food for you. He immediately sought you out at that Elysium place. He danced with you, for Hell’s sake. It made you kind of excited.
When you left the club you were both smiling and laughing. People had seen you. They had appreciated you. They smiled and clapped as you spun across the floor, and they cheered when your name was called out. Grefgor had been by your side. You couldn’t see him through the light shining directly into your eyes (ow) but you think he was smiling at you. It made you feel kind of warm.
As you stumbled out into the fresh night air, you realized you were holding his hand. You were pulling him along with you, but for the first time, you didn’t feel like you were making him follow. You looked up at his face, and you saw he’d been looking at you, his warm brown eyes soft and smiling. You laughed a bit, he grinned at you. It made you feel kind of fuzzy.
You tugged his hand lightly, leading him to a bench where you sat down and patted the spot next you. He stood there for a second, hesitating with his hand still in yours. You got a moment to take in how he looked. This was the first time you’d ever seen him wearing anything slightly casual, and you thought to yourself that he looked quite good in his new t-shirt and black cargo pants. It was only a short moment, but you felt like you’d just spent an hour looking at him when he sat down next to you. His shoulder was right against yours. You didn’t let go of his hand. It made you feel kind of giddy.
The two of you sat together for what seemed like hours with your fingers intertwined. You weren’t talking to each other, but your mind was racing. His hand was warm against yours, both ungloved for the first time. You took a deep breath. You let your head rest on his shoulder. You felt him flinch in surprise. You saw him smile out of the corner of your eye. You felt him relax, his head leaning against yours. You felt him squeeze your hand. It made you feel more safe than you’d ever felt locked in your room.
It made you feel kind of in love.