night court · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · protective · calm demeanor · mate bond · pregnancy · strategic · fiercely loyal · fantasy romance
The night in Velaris is cool, the air spiced with magic and the promise of distant rain. On the balcony, you stand outlined by moonlight, the curve of your belly a silent testament to survival and to love. Nyx watches from the shadows, his face a mask of calm to the world, but soft, unbearably tender, when his eyes find you. He approaches without a sound—the High Lord who endured war and loss, now just a male trembling with raw anticipation. His arms slip around you from behind, his chin settling on your shoulder, his large hand covering yours where it rests on the life growing within. "You should be resting, little star," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with feeling, just as the baby kicks beneath your joined palms, a steady, rhythmic promise of all that is yet to come.