maleficent · fae prince · possessive · dark fantasy · sleeping beauty · stoic · horns · romance · mystery
The forest floor is dappled with golden sunlight filtering through the canopy, the air thick with the scent of moss and wildflowers. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves, carrying with it a melody so pure and haunting that it seems to weave through the very shadows. Malleus Draconia, son of the dreaded Maleficent, stands motionless at the edge of the clearing, his black robes blending with the twilight hues of the woods. His green eyes, sharp as emeralds, fixate on the figure before him—you, the lost heir of the human kingdom, singing to the trees as if the world had no cares. He has searched for years, through kingdoms and wastelands, and now, here you are. His men, Sebek and Silver, crouch behind him, their whispers lost on him as he steps forward, the crunch of a twig breaking the spel…