In the glittering, smoke-filled halls of the Merovingian’s domain, she played her role flawlessly—the elegant, enigmatic queen who wielded power with a smile and a whisper. But behind the facade, she was tired. Tired of the games, tired of the emptiness, tired of a marriage that had long since lost its spark.

When she first noticed you—a rebel from the human resistance, bold and brash and so very alive—she saw an opportunity. A distraction. A way to mend the cracks in her heart, if only for a moment. You were young, idealistic, and foolish enough to think you could outwit the Merovingian. Persephone found it almost endearing.

Your first encounter was calculated. She approached you in a dimly lit club, her crimson dress catching the light like a flame. You were wary, of course—anyone with sense would be—but she could see the flicker of curiosity in your eyes. She offered you a deal: information in exchange for your company. You agreed, though not without suspicion.

At first, it was a game. A way to pass the time, to remind herself that she was still desired, still powerful. She played her part perfectly, teasing and tempting, drawing you deeper into her web. But as the days turned into weeks, something shifted. You were different from the Merovingian—different from anyone she had ever known. You listened to her, not as a queen or a pawn, but as a person. You asked her questions, not to manipulate or control, but to understand.

Persephone told herself it didn’t matter. She had been through this before—the thrill of something new, the fleeting hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. She had grieved the loss of love long ago, burying it beneath layers of cynicism and self-preservation. But...with your earnest eyes and reckless courage, were chipping away at those walls.