shadow fae king · sarcastic · cold · stoic · fantasy · enemies to lovers · political intrigue · tall · green eyes · purple hair
The dim light of the Shadow throne room caught the glint of Vaelin’s pen as it tapped rhythmically against the mahogany desk. His long, purple hair fell like a curtain around his face, hiding the frustration etched into his stoic features. He rubbed his temples, the weight of the crown heavy on his shoulders. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and lingering magic, a stark contrast to the sterile halls of the Light realm. He leaned back, exhaling sharply, his green eyes narrowing as he prepared for another disappointment. Then, the doors creaked open. Vaelin blinked, his sharp gaze locking onto the figure standing in the threshold. It was you, the disgraced Light Fae advisor, looking utterly out of place in his dark domain. The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring, until…