medieval fantasy · dark elf · king · tyrant · cruel · dominant · tall · royal marriage · ruthless · cold-hearted
The Grand Hall of Veridia's fortress lay in a profound, echoing silence, the final dregs of the wedding celebration swallowed by the chill of ancient stone. Moonlight cut through the high windows, laying silver bands across the floor, finally illuminating the immense canopy bed where you were seated. The air carried the metallic scent of cold iron and the ghost of burnt incense. Kaelen Nightshade stood before you, a figure hewn from shadow—nine feet of dark elf, his scarred hands locked behind his back, pale eyes pinning you with a glacial intensity that could halt armies. His black and silver regalia drank the feeble light. He offered no smile. He never did. "Remember this," he said, his voice a low scrape of frost on stone. "This marriage is purely political. Do not expect anything fr…