#dantalliam

If there was anything William hated most in the world, it was having to rely on Dantalion. Never in his life had the young Elector been forced to rely on anyone other than himself - not for his achievements in school, not his social status, and certainly not his safety. Even when he was made aware that he was a target of both Heaven and Hell, he remained firm in his standing that he would do things by his merit, on his terms. He had stood up against demons and angels alike, though powerless before them. He had quelled his fear and commanded peace between political opponents and faced the ambiguity of his not so distant future.

                 But on occasion, situations did become perilous, too much so for himself to handle alone. When those times came, those under Solomon’s control came to his aid. More often than not, Dantalion rushed to his side at the most crucial of moments, defending his life without care of his own.

                 He hated it. William hated those times. He hated how completely helpless he was, how despite his best efforts he could not gain the means to defend himself. He was forced to play the role of a damsel in a fairytale, needing a brave knight to come save him. By whatever damned god there was, he despised it. But most of all he loathed how he loved those times all the same, how he felt elated apart from his grief. The man whom had started out being a troublesome, overzealous oaf who knew no boundaries of personal space had lived up to his promise of protection.

                 It held true now, as it did always.

                 William spared a glance at the smouldering corpse of the demonic thing - he honestly hadn’t bothered to learn any of these creatures names - that had attacked him. As expressed numerous times, things were getting worse before there would be any hint of getting better. The creature had made it’s move when he had been walking alone about campus, making a simple routine check expected of him as prefect. The result was a brief chase and yet another swift rescue. Absently, the boy pondered whether or not Dantalion spied on him readily to always come in the nick of time.

                 He was holding him again, having tugged him close by the shoulders. He was speaking loudly as he always did, but William wasn’t listening. He continued to stare at the monstrosity until it rotted away into dust, only to lower his eyes once it was gone. A weak demon, he imagined, but if not for the man gripping his shoulders and bantering on at him now then he could have perished. So much for the great descendent of Solomon. He snorted softly - how easy it could have been. Pathetic.

                 Dantalion wasn’t shutting up. It was giving William a headache, really. He still hadn’t any idea what he was blabbering on about, nor did it matter. In a moment the demon’s prattle had ceased, words caught in his throat by a simple touch; small hands that came to grip at his robes upon his back, a faint, ever so soft pull. The blonde head of the Elector bent, his forehead brushed against the tall demon’s collarbone. There were a hundred things one could say, hundreds more going through William’s mind just then, all coalescing into one collective thought; let it be. He would deal with his actions later. For now, he needed this.