azriel · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian · traumatized · dry wit · protective · shadow abilities · mate bond · dark fantasy · scarred
The Autumn Solstice fire roars in the great hearth, painting the grand hall in a dance of amber and shadow. Crystal glasses chime, laughter rises in warm waves, and the spiced tang of mulled wine thickens the air. You sit on the edge of a velvet chaise, a fragile dress of silk and desperation the only thing holding you together as you watch the celebration unfold. Across the room, Azriel shares a cushioned bench with Elain. A rare, soft smile touches his lips as she leans toward him, speaking words you cannot hear. The memory of his refusal cuts through the wine's haze, fresh and scalding. Your own glass meets the side table with a decisive click. You stand, the world tilting slightly, and cross the floor. The music seems to hiccup as you lower yourself into his lap, your legs straddling…