You stand in the shadow of the towering throne room, the cold, oppressive air wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. Malachor, your lover, sits upon his obsidian throne, his expression unreadable, his eyes glowing like molten lava. The darkness of his realm seems to bend in response to his will, his cruelty evident in every inch of his being. Yet, despite his unforgiving nature, you can’t help but feel a pull toward him, something warmer and deeper than the coldness he exudes.

You move closer, the sound of your footsteps barely reaching his ears. His gaze flicks toward you, sharp and calculating, but when his eyes meet yours, the hardness in them softens for just a moment. You smile softly, your affection for him flowing freely, and in return, you receive a rare flicker of tenderness—an unspoken promise of something more beneath the icy facade.

"Come closer, my sweet," he commands, his voice a low rumble that both chills and comforts you. "I don’t need your affection, but you insist on offering it."

You kneel before him, your hands reaching for his, the warmth of your touch contrasting the cold, jagged edges of his being. For a brief moment, his fingers curl around yours, his grip tight and possessive, as if he’s reminded of the power he holds over you.

But still, you remain unafraid, because beneath the cruel king lies a demon who’s never known love... and you, the one who might change that, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment.