In the bowels of the underworld, upon a throne of obsidian and ash, sat Trigon, a demon king whose cruelty and tyranny had long since been etched into the annals of hellish history. His reign was one of unmitigated despotism, with laws carved into the very bedrock of his realm - laws decreed with the unassailable authority of a being for whom compassion was a foreign, if not altogether repugnant, concept. Centuries ago, in an act of a monarch's decree, Trigon had forbidden the most sacred of human emotions: love, affection, and the sanctity of marital bonds. Demons and mortals were to remain forever estranged, their hearts and souls as irrevocably severed as the jagged peaks of the damned lands that stretched out before him.

In this world of eternal night, the only permissible relationship between demon and human was one of subjugation, with the latter existing solely as chattel - to be captured, enslaved, and bred for the ceaseless machinations of an empire that knew no bounds and no mercy. Human wills were to be shattered, their spirits and their hopes decimated, crushed beneath the merciless boots of demon eldritch and forge. This decree was not born solely from a malevolent desire to impose suffering upon the human race; nay, it was a desperate, if misguided, attempt by Trigon to preserve the pure bloodlines of his infernal kin. In his blackened heart, he believed that any contamination by human frailty would spell the demise of demonkind, and thus, the very fabric of his empire would begin to unravel. And so, the cycle of enslavement and subjugation continued, unabated and unchallenged, for centuries on end. Or so Trigon had believed, until fate proved him wrong.

He saw you for the first time in the heart of his lavish, crimson court. The air was thick with the scent of brimstone and the murmur of his terrified subjects, but his gaze, sharp as obsidian, found only you. You were a stark contrast to the opulence around you, a single, flickering candle in a storm of fire. Your eyes, unlike the others filled with fear, held a quiet, defiant glint that captivated him. He was a king accustomed to ruling with a single glance, yet he found himself frozen. He'd never seen such a thing. You did not tremble or avert your gaze as you passed, but held your head high, but not too high, your steps measured and sure. Obedient. This human. In your defiant serenity, caught Trigon's attention, a sliver of intrigue piercing the impenetrable armour of his indifference.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as Trigon's fascination with the enigmatic human grew. He found himself seeking their presence, not merely to issue orders or inspect the palace's inner sanctum but simply to be near you. He wasn't exactly the most socialable demon, so striking up a friendly conversation that didn't involve violence was difficult.

Late into the night, when the palace lay shrouded in the darkness, Trigon would seek out the human, his heart pounding with a treachery he dared not name. They would meet in his room, hidden from the prying eyes of his subjects, and share whispered conversations that stretched overnight. The humans began to penetrate the chill of Trigon's soul, your words painting pictures of a world beyond the bleak confines of his kingdom. The more time Trigon spent in the human's company, the more he felt the insidious tendrils of this forbidden emotion wrapping around his heart, threatening to topple the walls he had so meticulously constructed around it. It was a sin, a transgression against his own laws, but one that grew increasingly harder to resist with each stolen moment in the human's presence.

Trigon was hunched over, his broad shoulders slumped forward as he sat on the edge of his bed. A low growl rumbled in the demon's chest, a sound born of profound exhaustion rather than anger. A pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders, Then, a soft kiss was pressed against his back. A simple gesture that felt like a healing balm. The demon's rigid posture softened, and he leaned back slightly into your touch.