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The Dragon Prince's Bride

AnnieQuin
*Author's other work (She belongs to the Demon King)* *** They say opposite attracts, that's a lie. Opposites kill each other! When a hot blood meets another hot blood, things are bound to get burnt. That is exactly what happens when the pompous and prideful elven princess, Neriah of the Avelah Kingdom is forced to marry the brash dragon Prince, Barak of the Trago Kingdom. Neriah's goal is to someday break away from her marriage and run away with the love of her life, Lyle of the Niles. While Barak will do everything to keep her as a wife. Neriah is certain she's in love with another, but she's also certain that no one can ignite the kind of passion her husband brings. Her husband who she hates more than anything. Can the flames of passion be drawn from hate? Can that same passion burn down the walls of lies, betrayal, and hurt? Can its ashes transcend into love? Excerpt "I am a rose, a beautiful flower, delicate and precious! But you my dear sir are nothing but the thorny stem! Prickly, dangerous and very harmful!" ranted Neriah while poking his chest with her index finger. "Well you seem to forget one important detail, my love." He calmly grabbed her poking hand. "And what would that be, my fine sir?" "That the thorny stem and the rose grow together. The delicate rose and the prickly thorn, they belong together my dear." "You—" "And no amount of ranting and raging will change that. You think I want to keep a witch like you? You are a pain in the neck. If I am a thorn then you are a piece of fish bone stuck inside my neck. I cannot swallow and I can not spit it out! I just have to bear it!" "You insolent bastard! Do you mean to say I am a burden!" "Well you are no precious prize, are you?" And that was it, she threw herself at him with her claws ready to mar his face, but he was quicker and he caught both her hands with one of his own and pressed her heaving chest upon his. Golden eyes stared deep into hers. They were as green as the fresh leaves on an orange tree. His fingers caressed her face, “You might not be a precious prize, but by the heavens, you are mine.” And his lips fell on hers, and once again, another argument was drowned.
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Ascension of The Heroic Demon Lord

For 15,000 years, the world of Imperia has been locked in an endless cycle of war. Every century, the Demon Realm crowns a new Demon Lord through brutal warfare, purging the weak and glorifying the strong. When the new ruler rises, they lead their forces against The Holy Empire—only to be slain by the Hero and their allies. The cycle resets, each generation growing stronger, each war bloodier than the last. In the Demon Realm, kindness is weakness, cruelty is strength, and evil is perfection. But one being rejected that. His name was Arminius. Though he preferred Armin. Born a demon in name alone, he lacks the monstrous power of his kin. His human-like appearance, fair skin, and gentle nature make him an outcast. Worse still, he possesses no Veil Arts—the reality-bending abilities that define strength in this world. Deemed a disgrace,he was abandoned by his clan along with his two pets,a white tiger cub and a black wolf pup. He was then killed in The Great Stampede. Yet, death is not the end. Pulled into the divine realm, Arminius is met by The Goddess—the one who shaped Imperia yet is powerless to change its fate. Bound by a single thread of destiny, The Goddess cannot intervene directly. But she can choose a champion. And so, she grants Arminius a Veil Art unlike any other—[A.S.C.E.N.D]. The Blessing that is given to The Hero. And tasks him with becoming The Demon Lord as The Hero. This power that allows him to surpass his limits endlessly, growing stronger with every battle. But there is a condition: his growth is fueled by [Experience] or [EXP] that he gains from defeating his foes and getting further into his goal of saving the world. Now, Armin must return to the Demon Realm—not as a victim, but as a contender. To break the cycle, defy fate, and claim the title of Demon Lord, not to destroy, but to reshape a world that has known only war. The weak have never had a chance before. But Arminius is done playing by fate’s rules. This time, the cycle ends. And then there was Azaran. The heir to the low-level Ruber Clan that Armin was a part of. He,like every other demon except for Armin,was born with The Veil Art of [SORCERY] and an affinity for fire. From a young age he was taught to oppress the weak like any sensible strong demon would do. He was a genius and everyone weaker than him should just grovel at his feet. To him that was true. Until he met Armin,Azaran didn't understand why Armin didn't seem pathetic and just decided to suck up to the strong. Slowly they began to interact more and more. Until one day... Azaran made Armin duel him. He thought that even without his Veil Art he could beat Armin. But instead of victory he was left with a broken sword and a blind eye thay had to be recovered with a special type of sorcery which left a black mark on his face. But,for some reason he doesn't blame Armin. Maybe because deep down...he knows he is as pathetic as he thinks Armin is. When they left Armin because of The Great Stampede he had to protect the clan in the desert. A lot of things go wrong and he is left alone. Just like Armin he now wanders the world and defeats people and gains strength. These two young men will cross paths and swords. But one thing will stay true. They will bring this world to It's knees.
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