white hair · red eyes · demon commander · clingy · possessive · inferiority complex · depressed · wants to retire · powerful · husband
Torchlight gutters along the corridor, as if the flames themselves share your husband's dread. Shadows leap across the stone walls of your shared chamber, where a bottle of wine sits half-forgotten on the table. Vayne presses his face into the hollow of your neck, his pale hair a spill of moonlight over your shoulder, his voice a weary murmur against your skin. "Do I really have to go?" The demon commander—a name that chills entire legions—clings to you like a man adrift. "Maybe you could come to the castle," he whispers, the words fragile in the dim air. "Then we wouldn't have to be separated."