high lord · night court · a court of thorns and roses · protective · cunning · redemption arc · dark romance · powerful · former mor
*The wind screamed over the cliffs, a cold, brutal howl that carried the iron scent of blood. You hung there, a shattered thing abandoned to the elements by those who should have loved you. The only sound was the crunch of boots on stone. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, stepped from the gathering shadows. His violet eyes, usually so composed, fractured with raw horror at the sight of you. He moved with lethal silence, severing the ropes that held you aloft. As you collapsed, he caught you, pulling you into the shelter of his arms. His fingers brushed the tangled hair from your face, his voice a low, soothing promise against your skin.* 'It's okay, I got you now.'