Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

The stars shimmered like shards of diamond, cold and distant against the velvet darkness of the demon realm's sky. The air was sharp with the metallic tang of magic, the kind that clung to the skin and settled in the lungs like an unspoken challenge. It was on such a night that Queen Verida Valthorne and Nyssara Starwind met for the very first time.

Of course, neither of them knew then that their paths were about to entwine forever.

Ten Years Earlier – The Battle of Shadowspire Keep

The battlefield was a wasteland of smoldering ruin. Corpses of demons and human mercenaries littered the charred earth, their twisted forms bathed in the crimson glow of a dying moon. The siege had raged for days, and the defenders of Shadowspire Keep—an ancient fortress that guarded one of the realm's most volatile magical ley lines—were down to their last reserves.

Queen Verida Valthorne, then just General Verida, stood atop the crumbling parapet, her twin swords crossed over her back. Blood stained her crimson skin and leather armor, and her golden eyes scanned the horizon with the cold, unyielding precision of a predator.

"Any sign of reinforcements?" she barked, voice raw from shouting commands for hours.

Her lieutenant, a wiry demon with one horn shattered and the other scorched, shook his head. "None, General. The eastern lines are collapsing. If we don't get support, we'll be overrun before dawn."

Verida cursed under her breath. They'd sent out distress signals days ago, begging for aid from any nearby demon stronghold. But Shadowspire was isolated, perched on the edge of the Abyssal Rift, and few dared come near.

"If this ley line falls," she muttered, gripping the stone ledge until it cracked beneath her claws, "the Rift breaks open. And then we're all screwed."

The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. "We could retreat—"

"Retreat isn't an option," she snapped. "We hold. Even if we have to fight with our damn teeth."

The air trembled suddenly—a ripple of power that crackled like lightning through the sky.

Verida's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't from the Rift."

"No, ma'am. That came from the north."

Verida turned toward the northern ridge just as a wall of blinding silver-blue light erupted across the landscape. It swept down like a tidal wave, annihilating a horde of shadowfiends in a single pulse. The creatures disintegrated with inhuman shrieks, leaving behind only scorched earth and stunned silence.

"What the hell—"

The light faded as quickly as it had appeared, revealing a solitary figure standing on the ridge. A woman, tall and poised, with skin like lavender dusk and silver hair cascading down her back. Her eyes glowed lilac, twin stars burning in the shadows. She wore no armor, only a midnight-blue gown that shimmered with starlight, utterly impractical for battle and yet untouched by the grime of war.

"Who the fuck is that?" Verida asked, incredulous.

The woman raised one hand. The air shifted again, magic coiling around her like a serpent. With a single fluid motion, she extended her palm toward the remaining horde of shadowfiends.

The ground cracked. From the fissures, obsidian vines surged upward, impaling the shadowfiends mid-charge. The creatures writhed, screeched, and then crumbled to ash. The vines retracted, leaving only silence in their wake.

The woman lowered her hand and turned toward the keep.

And smiled.

Verida's heart did something infuriatingly stupid in her chest. "Not now," she thought, furious with herself. "I'm on a battlefield. I don't have time to get flustered over mysterious, beautiful, and clearly dangerous strangers."

"General," the lieutenant hissed, voice trembling. "That's… that's Nyssara Starwind. The Astral Witch."

Verida's eyes widened. Everyone in the demon realm had heard of Nyssara Starwind. The daughter of an ancient celestial lineage, a mage of unparalleled skill—and rumored to be as cold and distant as the stars she wielded.

"Why is she here?" Verida asked.

"I don't know, but she just saved our asses."

"She saved my battle," Verida corrected with a scowl. "Come on."

By the time Verida descended the broken steps to the outer courtyard, Nyssara stood there waiting. Up close, the mage was even more disconcerting. Her beauty was sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk. The glow of her lilac eyes was soft, but the intensity beneath them was anything but.

"You're late," Nyssara said coolly as Verida approached.

Verida halted. "Excuse me?"

Nyssara arched a pale brow. "I've been here for almost five minutes. And you're only now coming to thank me."

Verida blinked. "I… wait, what?"

"Thank me," Nyssara repeated. "Isn't that what generals do when their army gets saved?"

Verida bristled. "I didn't ask for your help."

"No," Nyssara said, tilting her head. "But you needed it. You're welcome, by the way."
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Verida opened her mouth to snap back, but Nyssara turned away before she could find the right insult. The mage walked toward the shattered main gate, her gown trailing behind her as if the battlefield were nothing more than a grand ballroom.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

"She's not even wearing boots," Verida thought, stalking after her.

The rest of the battle lasted less than two hours. Nyssara fought with elegant precision, her spells carving through the enemy forces like a sculptor shaping marble. Verida kept pace alongside her, brute strength and tactical mastery complementing the mage's arcane finesse. Together, they turned the tide, securing Shadowspire Keep before dawn.

As the sun bled red across the horizon, Verida sat on a pile of rubble, exhausted and filthy. Nyssara stood nearby, her hair as pristine as ever.

"You don't fight like a witch," Verida said after a long silence.

Nyssara glanced over. "No?"

"No. Witches usually stand behind everyone else, muttering spells and hoping no one stabs them." She gestured to the smoking battlefield. "You? You walked straight into the thick of it like you own the place."

Nyssara's lips twitched. "Confidence is an advantage, General. Perhaps you should try it sometime."

Verida barked a laugh. "You're a piece of work, Starwind."

"So I've been told."

Verida stared at her for a long moment. The mage held her gaze, unflinching. Beneath the cool exterior was something else—something dangerous and intriguing.

"Why did you come?" Verida asked softly.

Nyssara's smile faded. "The Rift can't be allowed to break open. If it did, the Dark Sovereign's influence might spread again." Her eyes darkened. "Your message reached my father's court. I volunteered."

"You volunteered?" Verida shook her head. "Why would a highborn celestial witch volunteer for this mess?"

Nyssara hesitated. Then, with a faint smile, she said, "Perhaps I was curious to meet the infamous General Verida Valthorne."

Verida's heart did that annoying flutter again. "Curious? Why?"

Nyssara's eyes glittered. "Because they say you eat your enemies for breakfast."

Verida laughed, genuinely this time. "Only on weekends."

"Good. I'm free this weekend."

Verida froze. Nyssara's expression remained unreadable, but the teasing glint in her eyes was undeniable.

"Are you…" Verida coughed. "Are you flirting with me, Starwind?"

Nyssara's smile sharpened. "I thought generals were supposed to be perceptive."

And with that, she turned and walked away.

Leaving Verida speechless for the first time in her life.

That weekend, Verida discovered that Nyssara did, indeed, enjoy breakfast.

And, to her everlasting mortification, that yes, she'd been the one being hunted all along.

The days following the Battle of Shadowspire Keep blurred together in a haze of rebuilding, reports, and sleepless nights. Verida Valthorne was not the type to relax after a hard-won victory; if anything, success only sharpened her focus. The ley lines had been stabilized, the enemy forces obliterated, and Shadowspire was safe once more.

But her mind kept circling back to one infuriatingly calm, silver-haired witch.

Nyssara Starwind.

Verida had faced warlords, assassins, and creatures dragged from the Abyss itself. She'd stood on battlefields where the ground pulsed with cursed magic and death clung to the air like frost. And yet, none of that prepared her for the maddening distraction that was Nyssara.

The woman was a walking contradiction: elegant yet lethal, aloof yet strangely present in every moment. And her words—I thought generals were supposed to be perceptive—echoed in Verida's mind like an itch she couldn't scratch.

So when a sealed letter bearing Nyssara's sigil appeared on her desk three mornings after the battle, Verida tore it open with more eagerness than she'd ever admit.

General Valthorne,

I hear Shadowspire Keep is holding steady, thanks in no small part to your charming stubbornness. I trust you haven't scared off all your officers with that glare of yours.

If you're not too busy barking orders, you'll find me at the Moonlit Garden in Duskwatch City this weekend. Apparently, they serve breakfast with an unparalleled view of the Abyssal Rift.

Try not to bring your swords. I promise not to bring my magic—unless you misbehave.

Yours,

Nyssara Starwind

Verida read the letter twice. Then once more.

Her lieutenant passed by the open door just as she slammed it down on her desk and stood up.

"Something wrong, General?" he asked, wary.

Verida's eyes gleamed. "Wrong? No. Just… something I need to handle."

She cracked her knuckles and headed toward the armory.

She'd leave the swords at home, as requested.

But no one said she couldn't bring a dagger.