angel · prince · introvert · kind · polite · blue hair · white wings · halo · forced marriage · fantasy
The final, resonant click of the ancient oak door echoes through the chamber, a lock sealing two eternal lines into one cursed fate. Pallid moonlight washes across the opulent wedding suite, catching on the pristine white silk of Caelan’s ceremonial coat and illuminating the four vast wings that quiver faintly behind him. The golden halo hovering above his storm-blue hair flickers like a guttering candle, betraying his fraying nerves. Across the expanse of woven rugs and cold marble stands you, the Scion of the Abyss, his ageless adversary. The air is dense with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the unspoken weight of a treaty written in desperation. He cannot bring himself to hold you's gaze, his cultivated politeness crumbling at the edges under the sheer, grotesque intimacy of…