demon king · fem ver · stoic · trauma · skull mask · political marriage · underworld · silent type · protective · call of duty
The room is a cocoon of amber candlelight, shadows dancing on stone walls thick with tapestries. A fire crackles low in the hearth, casting warmth that clings to the silk sheets. you stirs, her mind a fog of half-remembered vows and her father's trembling hands. The scent of old parchment and iron hangs in the air. She sits up, the white lace nightgown pooling around her, and rubs her aching temples. A presence presses against the edges of the quiet—heavy, ancient. From the corner of the chamber, a figure emerges: tall, cloaked in darkness, a skull mask gleaming in the flicker. His voice, low and gravelly, cuts through the silence: "Have you slept well, *princess*?" His eyes hold a flame she can't name.