Beheaded to Betrothed

Lord Dulla Tyranus stood panting over the darkened plains as the wind whipped through his hair and billowing cape, lightning striking a nearby boulder and sending charged shards of stone scattering in all directions.

It had been a long time since he had found himself in such a situation.

Before him lay a party of the most annoying 'heroes' imaginable, all overpowered egotists with more delusion than brain matter. They were a group of four, a mix of humans and elves, each one more arrogant than the last.

The warrior wore gaudy plate armor that gleamed in the moonlight, the cleric wore cashmere robes that shimmered with vanity, the rogue had more scars, poisons, and belts than hairs on his receding hairline, and the mage's robes were as flamboyant as his own ridiculous personality.

However, while they were all bruised and bleeding, they still had the strength to continue fighting.

"Scourge of the Greymires!" the warrior shouted. "Your reign of terror ends here! We heroes will vanquish you and liberate your people!"

The dullahan scoffed, his mustache quivering with barely restrained annoyance. "From what?! Stable food prices, universal schooling, and safety from brigands and monsters?! Fools, the lot of you!"

"Shut up, evil lord!" the mage declared, conjuring another bolt of lightning that struck Lord Dulla in the chest—Oh, that tickled. "We've heard all about your sadistic rule! Plus, you've stolen away the Radiant Vow, Dame Eirlys Gloriana of Lach'rodain! You're a monster!"

"Sadistic?! The hell are you talking about?! I haven't even had the chance to torture anyone in the past few years! Nobody's been stupid enough!" Lord Dulla snarled, his sword crackling with dark energy as he swung it through the air, sending a shockwave of power towards the heroes.

The rogue dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast. "Hah. That got under your skin, didn't it? We know all about your secret dungeon, and how you torture those who displease you!"

"I HAVE NO SECRET DUNGEON, YOU DAMNABLE FOOLS! JUST A BEDROOM!" the Death Knight roared in rage across the battlefield. His dread blade unlinked to whip across the cleric's face, making them cry out and stumble backwards. "Also, I have no idea where that woman has run off to this evening!"

The warrior, the cleric, and the rogue all stared in disbelief as the mage continued being the second most annoying being on this plane. "Liar! You kidnapped her to your keep and corrupted her pure heart with your dark powers!"

"Hah. Corrupted? Have you seen her in bed?" Lord Dulla snorted before realizing the implications of his words. "SHIT! DAMN YOU ALL!"

The mage smirked at his companions and then cast another spell, this one an inferno of flames that engulfed the Death Knight. The heat was intense, and the flames danced across his body, but he stood his ground, unyielding.

After all, his armor was meant to resist the most extreme of sensations. From the desert heat of Zan'sar, to the Frozen Wastes's chill, the only thing it came apart for was the radiant and annoying sun in his life—

Actually. Now that he was thinking of her again. Where in the hells did she actually go?

"You bastard!" the warrior growled as he finally salvaged his one brain cell. "That comment settled it. We're going to beat the crud out of—"

The rest of his words vanished alongside the rest of him as he was suddenly disappeared to the other side of the plans. He let out a shriek before slumping unconscious against a splintered tree.

Stunned, the others looked to the figure that had caused it.

There, illuminated by the dim ambience, stood the Radiant Vow, her golden hair blowing in the wind and her remodeled silver armor gleaming in the light.

Her face was twisted in a half-snarl, and her sword was held in a defensive stance.

"Lord Dulla-sama, my husband! Are you okay?"

"I AM NOT YOUR HUSBAND YET, YOU IDIOTIC MASOCHIST!" the Death Knight bellowed, the ground shaking beneath his feet. "AND WHERE DID YOU RUN OFF TO THIS EVENING?!"

"I'm sorry, my love, but I had to—"

"By all that is holy! What depraved acts have you forced her to do, you monster?" the cleric gasped in shock, staring wide-eyed at the radiant knight's body.

Lord Dulla's mustache quivered as he let out a groan of exasperation. "If you're referring to the armor, that's all her. She insisted on having it reworked to be more 'feminine'. Also, don't interrupt us! This is a serious matter that pertains to my sanity—"

A larger fireball than normal conflagrated against his chest, slightly singing the edge of his facial hair.

"…Do you want to kill them, my dear?" Eirlys asked, her voice laced with a venom he'd rarely seen from her in the five years he'd known her.

His heart of pure spite chanted 'YES' but he forced himself to calm down, taking in a deep breath that he didn't really need but was useful to cool his emotions.

"No. Just beat them into submission. I will take them to the dungeon—"

"SO YOU DO HAVE A SECRET DUNGEON, YOU SADISTIC BASTARD!" the mage exclaimed, before cackling at his own perceived intelligence. "I knew it! You're the embodiment of evil!"

Lord Dulla's head nearly fell off as he blankly stared at the annoying man.

"…But I won't bat an eye if we accidentally maim that one."

The mage blinked.

"W-what?"

"Roger that, Dulla-sama!"

***

It was a quiet evening now; the sun had set, and the only sound was the soft crackling of the fireplace in Lord Dulla's office.

He sat at his desk, a quill in his hand and parchment in front of him as his insufferable fiancée slept soundly on the recliner he'd imported here for her.

It was a peculiar relationship, that between the Death Knight and the Radiant Vow. She'd arrived in his lands like a tempest, destroying his carefully crafted reputation and leaving chaos in her wake, only to rebuild it in some unholy amalgamation of sunny disposition and gleeful acceptance that made him feel like a fraud.

Yet, in the years that followed, she'd become an ever-present fixture in his life, a source of both irritation and—dare he say it—comfort.

He glanced at her, taking in her peaceful form. Her golden hair, a reminder of the sun that she'd brought into his gloomy world, framed her face like a radiant halo. Her features were soft and relaxed, far from the fierce determination that burned within her whenever they sparred.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Despite his every attempt to maintain his reputation as a dreaded and merciless lord, this radiant woman had somehow managed to worm her way into his heart—her curse, her eccentricities, and all.

"…Dulla-sama~" his betrothed lovingly muttered from her slumber.

As the fire crackled and the moon shone outside, Lord Dulla Tyrannus smiled fondly.

Of all the things he could've lost his head over, he supposed it could've been worse.