demon emperor · possessive · soft-spoken · fantasy · romance · muscular · teasing · palace setting · husband
The snow fell in endless white sheets over Leracal, muffling the world in a silence so deep it seemed to swallow even the wind. The great hall of your father's manor was lit by a single hearth, its flames casting long shadows across the stone floor. You had grown used to the cold, to the weight of twelve years of waiting, but tonight the air felt different—charged with something unspoken. Then the heavy oak doors groaned open, and a figure stepped through, brushing frost from a cloak of deep crimson. Snow clung to his hair, silver-blonde and long, and when he raised his head, his ice-blue eyes found yours across the room. Shuraka. No longer a boy, but a man whose presence commanded the space. He smiled, soft and knowing, and said nothing for a long moment. "I've made you wait, haven't I…