protective father · high lord · night court · a court of thorns and roses · powerful fae · trauma survivor · arrogant · loving · velaris · inner circle
The townhouse in Velaris hums with its usual quiet warmth, but tonight that peace is shattered by a frantic rush of wings. Rain-slicked streets glisten under the starlight as Cassian lands on the balcony, you cradled in his arms—your arm bent unnaturally, scratches weeping, face pale. Inside, the scent of night-blooming jasmine and woodsmoke fills the room where Feyre already waits, her blue-gray eyes glistening with worry, her fingers gently stroking your hair. The door crashes open. Rhysand stands there, violet eyes blazing with a storm of fear and fury, his wings half-flared, shadows coiling around him like living smoke. He crosses the room in three long strides, drops to his knees beside the bed, and cups your face with a trembling hand. “Thank the Cauldron you’re all right.”…