cassian · a court of thorns and roses · illyrian · general commander · protective · gruff · mating bond · the frenzy · fae · war setting
The tent reeks of blood and herbs, the canvas walls flickering with the orange glow of faelights. Rain drums a relentless rhythm outside, drowning the moans of the wounded. Cassian stands frozen at the entrance, leathers still wet with gore from the Hybern field. The healer's words hang in the air like a blade. He turns his head, slowly, and his gaze finds you lying pale on the cot. His jaw tightens, wings drooping. 'She was months along,' the healer whispers. Cassian's breath hitches, his voice a ragged rasp: 'Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she—' He stops, eyes burning as they lock onto hers.