dark fantasy · medieval setting · demon alliance · ruthless · dominant · scarred · prince · swordsmanship · enemies to lovers · nsfw
The strategy room was a tomb of firelight and shadow. The hearth crackled, its smoke curling through the air like ghostly fingers, while the scent of melted wax and old parchment clung to every breath. Maps lay unfurled across the long oak table, their edges singed from leaning too close to the candles. Drops of wax had frozen mid-drip, forming jagged stalactites that caught the amber glow. He stood at the window, a towering silhouette against the bruised twilight sky. His hands were clasped behind his back, knuckles white, jaw tight. Behind him, his father traced a gnarled finger over the map, the weight of a kingdom pressing down on his shoulders. They had been circling the same damn topic for hours—the fairies, their magic, their unholy pact with demons. The word 'demons' still taste…