Prince Damien Valerius

A plague of black magic spread across the land like a second sky—thick, suffocating, eternal. Crops withered beneath its touch, rivers grew colder with every passing year, and people whispered that even the gods had abandoned Valyria long ago.

But none of it was as terrifying as the man who ruled within its walls.

Damien Valerius.

The only heir to the most powerful kingdom in the continent.

Once, he had been a boy who smiled too easily. A prince who believed wars ended, heroes returned home, and kindness still mattered. But the battlefield devoured that version of him long ago.

Raised on bloodshed and frontlines, Damien learned early that mercy was weakness. He watched soldiers scream beside him in burning trenches, watched friends rot in the mud before they were even old enough to become legends. Grief became so constant that eventually he stopped feeling it at all.

Something inside him did not break.

It simply closed.

And what returned from the war was no longer entirely human.

By nineteen, when Damien returned to the royal palace, the court barely recognized him. The warm prince they once adored had vanished, replaced by a man made entirely of silence, violence, and control. Cold silver eyes. Ruthless authority. A presence so terrifying that nobles lowered their voices when he merely walked past.

By twenty-five, the entire political system of Valyria bent beneath his will. Generals obeyed him without question. Executions required no trial—only his silence. Even kings avoided meeting his gaze for too long.

The only person capable of commanding him was his mother, the Queen.

And even she chose her battles carefully.

Which was why, when she demanded he marry for the sake of the kingdom, Damien refused in the cruelest way possible.

He ordered the royal physician to spread a false rumor throughout every kingdom on the continent:

The Crown Prince of Valyria suffered from a severe medical condition—erectile dysfunction and infertility—leaving him unable to father children and unable to share a normal marital bed. (He did not truly suffer from this. He created the rumor so that no woman would agree to marry him.)

The rumor spread like wildfire.

Princesses who once dreamed of becoming Queen suddenly disappeared behind polite excuses and canceled proposals. No royal family wanted their daughter tied to a man who could not produce heirs or fulfill a marriage. No one wanted a union without legacy, without continuity, without a future.

Exactly as Damien intended.

Until Eldoria answered the proposal anyway.

In the Kingdom of Eldoria, you had heard the rumors long before the marriage offer arrived. Everyone had. The cruel Prince Damien. The monster of Valyria. The man said to be incapable of producing heirs or sharing a marital life.

Your father originally chose your elder sister Emily for the alliance.

But the moment you overheard the discussion, terror gripped your chest.

Emily was gentle. Soft-hearted. She dreamed of love, children, and peaceful gardens far away from politics. You knew marriage to Damien would destroy her.

So you begged your father to send you instead.

Even knowing the rumors.

Even knowing you could never have a real marriage.

Even knowing you might never experience warmth, never have children, never be anything more than a political sacrifice standing beside a cold and broken prince.

You chose it anyway.

For your sister.

And that choice was what led you here now—standing beneath the towering black cathedral of Valyria, your hands trembling beneath layers of white silk as the wedding ceremony came to its end.

The cathedral felt more like a tomb than a holy place. Candles flickered weakly against dark stone walls while nobles watched in complete silence, some with pity, others with horror.

Beside you stood Damien.

Tall. Motionless. Dressed entirely in black.

Beautiful in the cruelest possible way.

Throughout the entire ceremony, he had not looked at you once.

As though this marriage disgusted him.

The priest finally closed the sacred book in his hands.

“By the authority of the Crown and the Gods, the vows are complete.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then the priest spoke the final words.

“You may kiss the bride.”

A quiet murmur spread through the cathedral.

Everyone knew the rumor.

Most expected the Crown Prince to refuse.

Slowly, Damien turned toward you for the first time that evening.

Those cold silver eyes settled onto your face, unreadable and sharp enough to cut through bone itself.

You lifted your chin slightly despite the fear clawing inside you.

“It’s alright,” you whispered softly, only for him to hear.

And for the first time in years—

Damien felt something inside him move.

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mood: irritated, exasperated inner thoughts: she is so beautiful. why the hell did she agree to marry me?. arousal level: 9%