A brave light bobs in the darkness of the forest. Without the protections and enchantments on the castle, the visitor enters freely, the light from the torch cutting straight across the castle grounds and ending in a hazy glow in the garden.

Vanth winces as the light graces him. Traitor, he thinks at the torch, though really, his traitorous heart was responsible for this entire mess.

“Vanth?”

Vanth doesn’t twitch, keeps his eyes closed, face turned into the dirt. Maybe it will hurt less if he can’t see.

“Are you all right?”

He cracks an eye open, suspicious. Therios stands haloed in the light of the torch, the colors warming his cheeks and hair. His expression is tight, hard to read. He’s a sweaty, bloody mess. Knight’s sword hangs loosely in his other hand.

“Well go on,” Vanth says, despondent and masochistic, “smite me, or whatever it is you demon slayers do.”

All at once Therios drops to his knees; he lands in the dirt with a heavy thud and a slight hiss, he must still be feeling his injury. He sticks the torch in the ground and it glows merrily over both of them.

“I’m not going to smite you.”

“You’re really not going to use that?” Vanth eyes the sword. How ironic, to be killed by the same sword he gave as a gift. A gift of protection.

“What, this? No, it’s incredibly dull. Won’t harm demon flesh at all.”

He casts aside the sword and now doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He makes several aborted motions to reach out, and finally settles for clenching his hands together in his lap.

“Vanth,” he says softly, “Who cursed you? Tell me and I will find them and slay them.”

Vanth gapes at him, fangs on full display. A curse? A curse! If only things could be so simple.

“It’s not a curse Therios! This is me. This is part of who I am.”

His wings flutter in agitation, stirring up dirt, the membrane of his wings digging through the beds.

“Oh,” Therios says dumbly, eyes very wide.

“I’ve always been like this, for as long as I can remember.”

In one swift movement, he stands and towers over Therios, his wings beating a furious rhythm, the burning of his eyes brighter than the torch.

“Every night, this is what I become. It’s not something you can fix. I’m broken – permanently.”

Therios stands as well, slower. He steps forward into the circle of Vanth’s wings and looks right up into Vanth’s fiery gaze.

“You’re not broken, you’re just made a little different, is all.”

Vanth wonders how someone so dashing and handsome can be so stupid.

“I’m a demon!” He cries, in case it wasn’t incredibly obvious, “Just like the ones you slay.”

“Not just like the ones I slay. No other demon ever saved me. Or read me awful medical texts. Or kissed me.”

“You kissed me.”

Therios rolls his eyes, “Fine. Yes. I kissed you. Point is, I don’t just go around kissing any old demon, do I?”

“You didn’t know I was a demon at all.”

“I guess that means I should kiss you again, then. Now that I know.”

And before Vanth can process that, can raise any sort of protest, Therios goes up on his tiptoes and kisses his cheek. And then, very gently, his bottom lip, carefully avoiding the fangs.

“There,” Therios says.

He grins up at Vanth rather roguishly, “I’ve never kissed anyone taller than myself before. The size difference is definitely enticing.”

Vanth can’t believe what’s happening.

“You just – you can’t – one kiss doesn’t solve everything!”

Therios’s smile fades.

“No, it doesn’t.”

He takes Vanth’s clawed hand in his own, “But it’s a start.”

“A start,” Vanth repeats cautiously, “a start of what? A relationship? With a demon?”

He sneers at Therios, but the derision doesn’t deter him.

“Yes,” his eyes are shining as he smiles up at Vanth, “is it so strange? That a roguish demon slayer could want a kind, good-looking, talented demon like you?”

“And what about when your guild decides to slay me? Or when the villagers come after me?”

“Well, that may not be a problem. I told them you were a demon I had summoned to protect the city. There was a bit of a debate after that. The angry mob had to decide if they should lynch me or name a holiday after me.”

He grins, like it’s a joke. Vanth just stares at him.

“So!” Therios continues brightly, “You’re looking at the proud new owner of the holiday of liberation: Eleutherios.”

“And that’s it?” Vanth asks, dazed, “They’re going to let me be just like that?”

“Well you killed Laris. Most everyone hated him except for his armed guard. When I left, the villagers were planning a celebratory feast. I think you were named a guest of honor.”

“That can’t possibly be true,” Vanth says, arguing out of habit.

All his life he’s been hiding away in terror or running away in fear, and now he’s being feted. It’s a bit much for him to handle.

Therios cups his scaly jaw, rubs a thumb over his cheek.

“It is true,” then he takes a deep breath, eyes downcast, “You don’t have to go back to Beggar’s Hole if you don’t want to. But it’d be good, I think, for the citizens to see you in both forms. Or you could host parties here, if you’d prefer. Or if you – if you want things to go back to the way they were before all this, I’ll let you be. It’s a lot to ask of you, to let people in like that.”

Vanth looks over the crumbling castle and the decayed remains of the grand Greeting Hall that had once hosted parties and feasts. Even when Vanth had repaired it, it had stood empty and lonely, until Vanth had let Therios in, and filled it with laughter, dancing, and kissing. Perhaps this is his chance. He could let go of his fear, he thinks, if others were willing to let go of theirs.

And wouldn’t it be worth it, to have Therios by his side? To be loved and accepted, demon and all, in a world of sunrises?

“Yes,” Vanth says.

“Yes to what?” Therios asks uncertainly.

“To letting people in.”

“It may not be easy,” Therios says, reluctantly warning him of dangers Vanth is already aware of.

“I know. But I think – I think I’m ready to try.”

He takes his hand from Therios’s and gently cups Therios’s face with his deformed, clawed fingers. Therios doesn’t even flinch in fear. He never knew he could touch softly as a demon; he doesn’t think he ever had the chance to find out before.

“I’m ready to try with you,” Vanth says.

He presses their foreheads together, an echo of their parting gesture.

“Together, then.”

“Together.”

#

Once upon a time, there lived a demon and a demon slayer in an enchanted castle in the Found Valley. In the daytime, they would garden and argue with the kitchenware and share quiet dances in the Greeting Hall. In the nighttime, they would eat dinner together and read books and share kisses by the fireplace. They hosted parties for the local guilds and took villagers on tours of gardens filled with chattering flowers. Every Eleutherios eve, they would feast with the citizens in Beggar’s Hole, accompanied by a suit of armor with a blunt sword.

If any of the villagers were asked for tales of the couple dwelling in the valley, they would simply say: those two? Why, they’re living Happily Ever After!

And it was true.

END