Daemon

"He is mine, eternally." -Blood Mother, Volka A fall from grace is often concluded by a great collision of wretchedness and profound self-loathing. To not only adopt the darkness of rock bottom but to thrive there in its poison shadows is a rare feat indeed, indicative of a heart destined to beat in perpetual night. Daemon, The Exile of Bloodmoon, knows the darkness all too well, its tendrils having scrubbed away the vestiges of his former life. Once a prince married to Livian, the Aristocratic Aegis, Daemon was revered amongst the fae for his unwavering honor and fierce prowess in battle. Alongside his brother, Ain, he defended his woodland kingdom from every evil to slither through the trees. But when aid against vampires was requested from a faraway dwarven kingdom, Daemon knew his life's calling was at hand. The Blood Mother had risen. Leaving his brother to defend their homeland and bidding his wife farewell, Daemon set off with his most trusted men to draw out the queen. It did not take long for the hunters to become the hunted. On the fringes of an ancient burial ground, the vampires struck with such precise ferocity that before long, half of Daemon's men had been cut down. Those who remained attempted to form defenses, their efforts in vain. In minutes, Daemon was the last fae standing, gravely wounded at that. As the end drew near, a figure strode through the grounds, gracefully navigating the fallen bodies. The Blood Mother. She stood before Daemon, eyes like pools of hypnotic sapphire, and an enigmatic smile played on her lips. Through clenched teeth Daemon cursed her, daring her to finish him. That alluring, tranquilizing smile did not break. "Take him with us," she said. It was his defiance that moved Volka to spare his life, but something more as well: A wildness within his eyes, desire brimming just below the surface that she longed to ignite. Daemon was transported to Volka's keep and strung up by the arms, though his wounds were treated. She would visit him often, probing his mind with devilish interest, always with that coy, amorous smile. Eventually, he broke. Under Volka's spell, Daemon all but forgot his former life and cause. When they first kissed, an inferno erupted within him like a geyser. Then came the bite. On a moonless night, Volka sank her fangs into Daemon's neck, cementing their bond in blood. "I am yours, and you are mine."