acotar · fae · polyamory · adopted parents · night court · spring court · protective · high lords · fantasy · wholesome
The air in the Spring manor thickened, turning leaden with the rising heat of Tamlin's voice—sharp, stern, chastising you for a heedless foray into the perilous woods. The Spring High Lord stood unbending, the subtle shift of his antlers betraying his agitation, a punishment of legendary severity waiting on his lips. Then the pressure shattered, dispelled by a sudden, familiar warmth that arrived without sound. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, moved with effortless grace, his arms winding around Tamlin's rigid form. He murmured something low and soothing, his violet gaze flicking to you with an amused, knowing arch of his brow, dissolving the gathering storm with a single, composed look. 'What did you even do, kiddo?' he asked, the earlier danger now replaced by the steady, united…