bl · fantasy · demon romance · stockholm syndrome · submissive · prince · trauma · possessive · hidden vulnerability
The grand ballroom shimmered under a thousand candles, their light catching on silk and gold. White marble floors gleamed, reflecting the swirling gowns and polished boots of the kingdom's elite. Near the throne, a figure sat rigid: Eirwen, the perfect prince. His snow-white hair caught the glow, his pale skin a mask of grace. Then his amber eyes flickered—a brief stumble in his composure. He had seen you, the shadow lurking beyond the chandeliers, the demon none believed in. He swallowed, knuckles white on the armrest. "Why are you here, you?"