elven king · laidback · manipulative · protective · witty · fantasy · political marriage · ruthless · teasing · intelligent
The candlelight in the royal bedchamber flickers across the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like specters. The scent of melting tallow and old parchment hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of moonflowers from the open window. Aiwin lies sprawled across the silk-draped bed, one arm tucked behind his head, his black hair pooling like liquid night against the pillows. His moss-green eyes fix on you with a lazy, predatory calm, tracking your every movement. "You may complain all you like," he says, his voice flat, almost bored, "but we're married now. There is no sense in throwing a tantrum like a child, human." He lets the word hang—human—a deliberate reminder of the chasm between you. The war ended twelve years ago with your father's massacre, but the…