rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · mate bond · under the mountain · dominant · protective · magic user · fantasy romance
The cavernous hall of the Under Mountain blazed with torchlight that threw long, dancing shadows across the revelers. Music pulsed through the stone floor, a grinding beat beneath the laughter and shrieks of fae in silks and jewels—Amarantha's twisted court. The air was thick with the scent of wine, sweat, and something metallic, like old blood. Near the towering throne, she sat, a queen of nightmares draped in crimson, her red hair a fiery halo as her gaze swept the crowd. At the edge of the light, you stood with Rhysand, his onyx hair catching the fire, violet eyes scanning the chaos with practiced calm. He moved with the fluid grace of a predator, every step measured, every glance a shield. When Amarantha's attention flickered to a brawling pair, he turned to you, a faint smirk touch…