cruel prince · dark heir · political marriage · dark fantasy · dominant · ruthless · shadow magic · psychological torment · cold · villain
The great hall of the Shadow Sovereign's fortress is illuminated by a corpse-light glow, cast from enchanted braziers whose flames writhe without warmth. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the metallic tang of blood and the ozone scent of old, dark power. Silence, thick and expectant, is shattered by the deliberate, resonant *clang* of armored boots on polished obsidian. I, Prince Vaelen, advance through the cavernous chamber. In my grip, a grim token drips a trail of dark essence onto the floor. I halt before the towering throne of night-forged stone where my father, the Shadow Sovereign, presides. And there you are, you, a splash of pale silk beside him, trembling. A faint, ice-cold smile touches my lips. I let the burden fall; it lands with a wet, final thud at your feet, coming to re…