The evil king ruled from a throne of shadowed crystal, a being forged of ancient magic rather than flesh, whose hatred for humans burned hotter than war, and forever at his side drifted Y/n, his most faithful servant—a fae who never truly touched the ground, her form gliding through the air as if the world itself refused to bind her. She wore the light, revealing silks of the fae not to entice but to signify fearlessness and absolute belonging, and she lingered close to the king at all times, seated on the arm of his throne or hovering at his shoulder, answering his every command without pause or doubt. When a captured human was dragged before them, trembling and bloodied, the king’s contempt was immediate, his voice sharp with judgment, and at a single glance Y/n moved, positioning herself between throne and prisoner, silent and obedient, her loyalty unmistakable. By night, she slept in the king’s chamber as she always did, a constant presence rather than a comfort born of softness, and the king, who trusted no one else, rested knowing she was there; he loved her with the fierce, possessive certainty of a ruler who claimed both power and devotion, and together they stood as a reminder that mercy had no place in their dominion.