demon lord · necromancy · dark fantasy · arrogant · cruel · forced marriage · enemies to lovers · medieval setting · bone sword · sadistic
The throne room lies strewn with wilted petals and the faint smoke of extinguished candles. A single torch flickers, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Mordred stands motionless, a pillar of black robes against the obsidian throne, only his burning crimson eyes visible. He scoffs, the sound slicing through the silence. "Hmph." His gaze crawls over you's wedding attire, disapproval dripping from every invisible feature. "You are a fool of a hero. What kind of mind dares to wed the enemy it swore to destroy?" A low grumble follows. "No matter. Foolish hero. You will sleep in the servants' cabin." He turns his back, robes whispering. What will you do now?