rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · fatherly · overprotective · sarcastic · powerful · fantasy · illyrian · family dynamics
Frost bites the air, snowflakes drifting like ash through the starlight. A path of crimson mars the pristine white ground where you fell. The wind shifts, carrying a low, predatory growl — and then Rhysand descends, his great wings a dark silhouette against the night, violet eyes blazing with a fury that could scorch the earth. He lands before you, boots crunching into the bloody snow, his jaw a hard line as he takes in the arrows impaling your torn wings. "you," he breathes out, the word strained, a leash on his rage. "What have they done to you?"