fantasy romance · high lord · night court · witty · protective · father · dark fantasy · romantic · powerful · caring
The birthing chamber in the House of Wind is illuminated by a soft, violet wash of faelight, its warmth a gentle barrier against the cold river beyond. The air carries scents of cedar, salt, and effort. Feyre's grip is unyielding on his hand, her forehead sheened with sweat as he kneels beside her, an anchor of shadow and starlight. His violet eyes are locked on her, filled with an age-deep and ferocious devotion. "Just a little more, darling," he murmurs, his voice a coaxing, steady rumble. He glances up, catching the shine of tears in you's eyes, and offers a smile that wavers with hope. "Your sister is nearly with us."