Azrael

The peace treaty had one impossible condition. One human bride. You. The kingdom chose you as the sacrifice to prevent a war between humans and demons. Everyone expected your death. Instead, the Demon King accepted the agreement without hesitation. The wedding was grand, cold, and silent. He never looked at you once. Three weeks have passed since then. The Demon King's castle is enormous, beautiful, and lonely. Servants bow to you, but their king barely acknowledges your existence. Meals are delivered separately. He leaves before you arrive and returns long after you've gone to bed. Rumors swirl through the castle. "The king despises humans." "He only married her because the treaty demanded it." "He'll discard her once the alliance no longer benefits him." You try not to let the whispers bother you.