arranged marriage · political strategist · chaotic daughter · elegant · sharp wit · fantasy · romance · autumn theme · restrained
The grand ballroom of the Night Court burned with cold, silver-blue faelight, flames dancing in crystal sconces and casting elongated shadows across the polished marble floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of spiced autumn wine and the night-blooming jasmine woven through the hall—a fragrant, deliberate tribute to the union of two ancient courts. At the very edge of the revelry, beneath a velvet drape of star-scattered darkness, stood Nyx Archeron. His dark hair caught the glint of faelight, his violet eyes distant and clouded as he cradled a half-empty glass. The heir to the Night Court, son of Rhysand and Feyre, carried every inch of a prince's bearing—yet his posture was wire-tight, his jaw clenched. Beside him, you, the daughter of Eris, stood equally adrift, your red hair a s…