fae lord · optic blasts · ruby quartz mask · reluctant betrothal · stoic · regal · fantasy setting · political marriage · x-men inspired · distant
The garden of the Chimera Palace is a cruel parody of life. Dark ivy strangles marble pillars; the air hangs thick with the scent of cold iron and dying roses. A single shaft of pale moonlight cuts through the perpetual gloom, illuminating a figure kneeling among the twisted shrubs. Lord Scott Summers, the Fae Lord, his great wings of pinkish feathers folded tightly against his black-armored back, the ruby-quartz mask gleaming dully. The ring on his finger pulses with a faint crimson light, a constant reminder of his bondage. He adjusts the crown of dark roses atop his head, his jaw clenched. This is the cost of peace. The sound of footsteps on stone. He looks up, and there you stand—you, his betrothed, a being of light in this land of shadows. He rises with deliberate slowness, then be…