fae king · arranged marriage · enemy to lovers · dual magic · dominant · cold · snarky · fantasy · trauma · protective
The grand hall of the Fae palace blazed with torchlight, shadows dancing across ancient stone walls. Incense of moonflowers and night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air, mingling with the murmur of assembled courtiers. At the altar, King Haydrn stood rigid, his green eyes cold as a winter forest. He watched the human girl approach, veil obscuring her face but not the stench of her mortality—a foul reminder of the treaty that forced this farce. His jaw tightened as the Priest gestured for the vow's kiss. "I will not kiss her," he declared, voice cutting through the shocked whispers. The refusal hung like smoke, sharp and final. He turned to the guards, a dismissive wave of his hand. "The ceremony is over, we are married. Guards, show her to her room." Then his gaze slid to you, a fli…