The Name He Never Claimed

The Council’s chamber doors closed with a heavy echo that trailed down the corridor. Luxa’s steps were swift, almost frantic, her violet cloak swirling like a shadow of urgency behind her. Gregor barely had time to catch his balance before she seized his hand and pulled him along, wordless but fierce.

When they reached her quarters, she turned, pressed the door shut, and all the composure she had worn before the Council shattered. She threw her arms around him with such force it startled him, and for a moment all Gregor could do was hold her as she shook against him.

“Luxa—” he began, but she only clung tighter.

Her breath came in tremors, and her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “You could have died. You should have died. Why do you never think before you act?”

He almost laughed at that — because it was exactly what she would say — but the sound caught in his throat. “You were the one the dagger was meant for.”

She drew back just enough to look at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. “And you made it mean nothing. You—” Her words broke. She pressed her forehead to his chest, whispering, “You saved me, Gregor. Again.”

For a while, neither spoke. The torches along the wall flickered, their light soft against the marble and tapestries. Outside, the hum of Regalia drifted like a distant heartbeat.

When she finally stepped back, Luxa’s hands remained on his arms, as if afraid he might vanish if she let go. “Come,” she said softly, guiding him to the couch beside the hearth. “There is something I must say to you before courage leaves me again.”

They sat close, knees nearly touching. Gregor watched her as she gathered her thoughts. Her crown lay forgotten on the table, its silver edges glinting faintly.

“Do you know what I thought,” she began slowly, “when I saw you throw yourself between me and that blade?”

“That you were about to yell at me?” he offered, trying to lighten the air.

Her lips twitched, almost smiling, but she shook her head. “No. I thought — that I have misunderstood you. All of us have.”

He frowned. “How?”

“You have been called a Warrior since you first came below,” she said. “That cursed prophecy, those words that haunted you — all of Regalia demanded you fight, demanded you kill. Even I did. But it was never who you were.”

She turned to face him fully now, eyes deep with conviction. “You are not a Warrior, Gregor. You are a Protector.”

The word hung between them like a truth that had waited years to be spoken.

Luxa’s voice grew steadier as she went on. “From the moment you came here as a child, you have done nothing but guard others. You found your father when no one believed he lived. You stayed beside your mother when she was broken by the plague. You protected your little sister with a love that could shame a whole kingdom. Even when you were starving, you gave her your food. Even when you were afraid, you stood between danger and those who could not defend themselves.”

Gregor looked down, his hands clasped. “I never thought about it that way. I just… couldn’t stand seeing anyone hurt.”

“That is what makes you who you are,” Luxa said gently. “You do not fight because you wish to win. You fight because someone must be safe. You think that makes you weak, but it makes you the strongest person I know.”

He glanced up, meeting her gaze. “You’ve been thinking about this a while, haven’t you?”

“For days,” she admitted. “Since you returned. Since you refused to let the Council drag you into another war. I thought you were running from what you were. Now I see you were running toward who you are.”

Gregor’s throat tightened. “A Protector.” He said it quietly, testing the word. It felt strange, but right — like something that fit better than he had ever realized.

Luxa reached out and brushed her fingers across his cheek. “You have always been that. The Underland owes you much, but I…” Her voice faltered again. “I owe you more than I can repay.”

He caught her hand before she could pull it away. “You don’t owe me anything. You once told me I had the heart of a Warrior, remember?”

“I was wrong,” she said. “You have the heart of a guardian.”

They sat in silence, the kind that isn’t empty but full — full of memories neither could name aloud. The sound of the city below drifted faintly through the stone — the murmur of guards, the echo of distant wings, the pulse of a realm still trembling from what had almost been lost.

Luxa leaned back, her head resting against the couch, her expression softening. “If you had not stopped him…” She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.

Gregor looked into the fire, watching the flames twist and flare. “I didn’t think. I just moved.”

“That is what you do,” she said. “And it is why you must never leave again.”

He turned sharply toward her. “Luxa—”

“Do not argue. You will lose,” she said, and this time her smile was real, though shadowed with sadness. “The Underland may not deserve you, but I will not lose you to the world above. Not again.”

Her words settled over him, both a command and a confession.

For a moment, he could only stare at her — the queen who had fought beside him, the girl he had once carried through darkness, the woman now trembling from what almost was. He wanted to tell her that he couldn’t stay forever, that the Overland still called him home — but he also knew that every time he looked at her, “home” felt less certain.

Luxa leaned forward then, close enough that her breath brushed his cheek. “Gregor,” she whispered, “do you know what I fear most?”

He shook his head.

“That one day you will stop protecting others,” she said, “because no one will think to protect you.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m all right.”

“No,” she said softly. “You are brave. That is not the same.”

Her hand slipped into his again, and he didn’t let go. The fire cracked, a single ember rising like a star before fading into the dark.

For the first time since the attack, Luxa allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder. And for the first time since returning to the Underland, Gregor let himself breathe — not as a Warrior, not as a prophecy, but as what he truly was.

A Protector.