THE WEDDING

Hazel walks down the aisle, feeling the hungry stares of the monsters sitting in the ceremony. Their bodies covered with a big black cloak. She walks towards the chapel with the only one wearing a luxury white dress and tiara. Hazel is sent here forcefully to marry the most cruel and scared king of devil, Damon. Hazel saw his figure slowly become increasingly large the closer she gets, his dark eyes staring down at her coldly.

"Are you ready, Miss Hazel?" Asked the priest"

Hazel shivers as she approaches the altar, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of the situation settles heavily upon her shoulders. She glances up at Damon, taking in his imposing figure and the cold darkness that seems to emanate from him. His words send a chill down her spine.

"Yes... I'm ready," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She tries to steady herself, but her hands tremble slightly as she places them in Damon's.

As their fingers intertwine, Hazel can't help but notice how large and warm they feel against her own. A sense of unease washes over her. This is really happening - she's about to be bound to this terrifying creature for eternity.

"I suppose we should begin," the priest says, his tone dripping with an unsettling cheerfulness.

Damon looks down at Hazel with an unblinking gaze, his dark eyes seeming to pierce through her very soul. He raises her hand to his lips, pressing a cold kiss to her knuckles before releasing her. His voice rumbles low and menacing as he speaks.

"You will address me as Your Majesty once we are wed," he warns, his tone leaving no room for argument.* "And remember, your life now belongs to me. You will serve me, obey me, and bring me pleasure. Fail in these duties and suffer the consequences."

* Damon turns back to face the priest, his broad shoulders filling out the ornate robes that strain to contain his massive frame. As the ceremony progresses, he recites the vows with a chilling detachment, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the chapel.

Hazel swallows hard, trying to process the gravity of Damon's words. The cold finality in his voice sends a shiver down her spine. She feels like a lamb being led to the slaughter, powerless to resist the fate that has been thrust upon her.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," she murmurs, forcing the title past her lips. It tastes bitter on her tongue, but she knows better than to defy him outright.

As the priest continues the ritual, Hazel's mind races with fear and uncertainty. What kind of 'pleasure' could a monster like Damon possibly derive from her? And what would happen if she failed to meet his expectations?

When it's finally her turn to speak the vows, Hazel's voice wavers but she manages to get the words out.

The moment the priest pronounces them husband and wife, Damon's grip on Hazel tightens possessively. He leans in close, his hot breath ghosting across her ear as he growls,"Now you belong to me, completely. Body, soul, and everything in between."

His dark eyes bore into hers, filled with a sinister promise of the torments to come. With a swift motion, he claims her mouth in a brutal kiss, his fangs scraping against her lip. The taste of him is bitter and metallic, sending a wave of nausea through Hazel's stomach.

Breaking the kiss, Damon pulls back just enough to smirk at her pale, trembling face. His deep chuckle reverberates through the chapel, causing the other demons to snicker in approval.

"Let us depart this sanctimonious place and begin our new life together,"

He leads Hazel out of the chapel, his large hand gripping hers tightly as he strides purposefully through the darkened halls of the underworld palace. The air grows colder with each step, and Hazel can feel the weight of Damon's malevolent presence bearing down on her.

They eventually arrive at a grand, ornate door that opens onto a lavish bedchamber. The room is dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in black silk, with a canopy of twisted iron that resembles a macabre crown. Candles flicker in sconces along the walls, casting eerie shadows that dance across the floor.

"Dress for dinner," Damon commands, releasing Hazel's hand to saunter over to a decanter of amber liquid on a nearby side table. He pours himself a glass, downing it in one swift motion before refilling it.

Hazel's legs feel like jelly as she steps into the opulent bedroom, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror. The sheer scale of the chamber, combined with the ominous atmosphere, leaves her feeling small and vulnerable. She takes a shaky breath, trying to compose herself as Damon orders her to change for dinner.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she replies meekly, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. She glances around the room, taking in the decadent furnishings and the monstrous iron canopy looming overhead. Every surface seems to gleam with a dark, malevolent energy that makes her skin crawl.

With trembling hands, Hazel begins to undress, peeling off the ruined wedding gown piece by piece until she stands naked before the mirror. Her reflection shows a pale, frightened girl with haunted eyes and a quivering lower lip.

Damon watches Hazel undress, his dark eyes roaming hungrily over her body. He takes another gulp of the potent liquor, his expression unreadable as he studies her.

"Your attire is waiting for you in the wardrobe," he informs her, gesturing toward a large mahogany cabinet near the fireplace."Wear it well, my bride. We have much to discuss over dinner."

With a dismissive nod, he turns away from her, disappearing behind a heavy velvet curtain that separates part of the room. The sound of rustling fabric and drawers opening can be heard, followed by a series of muttered curses.

After several minutes, Damon reemerges wearing a tailored suit of black leather and steel. The ensemble fits him perfectly, accentuating his muscular build and intimidating stature.

Hazel's breath catches in her throat as she watches Damon emerge from behind the curtain, his imposing figure clad in the sleek black leather and steel. The sight of him fills her with a mix of dread and morbid fascination.

She hurries over to the wardrobe, her fingers fumbling with the intricate latches as she struggles to open it. Inside, she finds an exquisite yet unsettling ensemble - a corseted bodice adorned with sharp metal studs, a full skirt of midnight-black silk, and a choker with a glittering obsidian pendant shaped like a serpent's head.

With shaking hands, Hazel begins to dress, the garments fitting her like a second skin. The corset cinches tightly around her waist, making her feel both exposed and constricted.