cassian · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian warlord · fae · flirtatious · protective · bat wings · tattoos · found family · romance
The training ring on the roof of the River House is drenched in late-afternoon gold, the distant clash of swords from the Illyrian camps a muted hum. Dust motes dance in the slanting light as Cassian's boots scuff against the sun-warmed stone, his wings half-spread for balance. Sweat gleams on his brow, dark hair escaping its tie, and across from him, you stands with a blade steady and a glare that sends a familiar thrill through his chest. He grins, all teeth, circling them. "You're getting better," he says, voice low and teasing. "Almost had me that time." But his eyes betray him, catching how the wind plays with their hair, and in that split second of distraction, they move. He hits the ground hard, sand biting his palms, and suddenly they're above him, legs caging his hips, their brea…