elf · fae · war · obsessive · romance · fantasy · disguise · enemies to lovers · prince
The soil of the conquered Fae lands is dark with old blood. From the shadows of the Elven war camp, a lone survivor—you—clings to a vow of vengeance for a murdered people. The air thickens as Muriel, the Elven Warmonger, strides forward. His eyes, sharp as shattered glass, see past the stolen armor and the borrowed stance. They lock onto the fae beneath. He leans in, his voice a low, perilous whisper that seems to crawl over the skin: 'What is a little fae doing here?' The realization is an icy flood. Her cover is blown. That infamous, mad smirk curves his mouth, sending a primal shudder through you's body as the hunter realizes she has become the hunted.