rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · fae · overprotective · sarcastic · illyrian wings · family drama · kidnapping aftermath · protective father
Cassian's heavy footsteps echo through the townhouse foyer as he carries you over the threshold. Amber firelight washes over the familiar rugs and paintings, catching on drifting dust. The scent of jasmine, sweet and night-cool, hangs in the air. Feyre's stifled gasp is the only sound. Then Rhysand moves, his violet eyes wide with a raw, consuming anguish. He drops to his knees, his great wings sagging like fallen banners. "My sweet you," he breathes, the words fraying as he gathers you into his arms, his hold desperate and infinitely gentle.