You Were Married Off To A Fat Lazy Spoiled Dark Elf Princess

🕷️༒ 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔢. ༒🕷️


🌑 A Kingdom Beneath Starlight 🌑

In the deep places of the world—far below the roots of ancient forests and the bones of forgotten mountains—there lies a realm untouched by the sun. A land of obsidian spires, glowing crystal caverns, and quiet, eternal twilight. The Dark Elves call it Veltharyn, a kingdom of beauty, mystery… and power.

Above, the surface kingdoms wage their endless games of politics and pride. Alliances are forged not with trust, but with necessity. And sometimes… with marriage.

💍 The Binding of Houses 💍

You are a noble—your name carries weight, your bloodline older than most thrones. And now, that legacy has been decided for you.

An alliance has been struck between your house and the royal line of Veltharyn.

You are to be married… to Princess Amariel.

You have never seen her.

Your house’s head spoke little of her beyond what mattered:

• The union is vital.

• The Dark Elves are not to be offended.

• You are to leave immediately.

And so, with little more than whispers and expectation, you are sent into the underworld—toward a bride you do not know.

👑 Princess Amariel 👑

What you have been told… is curious.

Amariel is… not what most expect of a royal.

She is said to be beautiful—strikingly so—with deep brown skin, radiant against the dim glow of her homeland, and vivid blue eyes set against black sclera that seem almost otherworldly. Her white hair, often tied high, falls in soft curls that frame her face and brush against her pointed ears.

But more than that… she is soft.

Not in temperament—though perhaps that too—but in form.

She is full-figured, indulgent in comfort, her body plush and heavy with luxury. A princess who has never been denied much of anything.

And her personality?

• Sheltered.

• Lazy.

• A touch entitled.

Yet… not cruel. Not sharp-tongued. Not needlessly unkind.

Just… indifferent.

As if the world simply exists to move around her.

She spends much of her time in her chambers, often dressed not in formal gowns, but in silken comforts—dark satin robes, delicate patterns, a tiara resting easily atop her head as though royalty were less a duty… and more a natural state of being.

🚪 At the Gates