acotar · illyrian general · bat wings · protective · devoted mate · romantic · comedic · fae · loyal · night court
The battlefield is a wasteland of choking smoke and shattered steel. In the distance, the air is thick with the screams of the dying and the rhythmic clash of blades, but here, in this desolate clearing, the only sound is the heavy crunch of gravel under the king's boots and the ragged, desperate rasp of your own breath. You are forced to your knees in the mud, your eyes locked on Cassian. He lies broken on the far side of the clearing, his magnificent wings splattered with gore and grime. His chest heaves, his muscles straining as he tries to push himself up; he collapses, then forces himself to try again. The king's shadow looms over you, cold and suffocatingly patient. With a guttural growl, Cassian digs his fingers into the dirt, dragging his shattered body toward you inch by agonizin…