rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · night lord · protective · soulmate · hidden feelings · fantasy · strategic · gentle patience · silver hair
The air in the cell was thick with the scent of rot and damp earth. The giant worm lay dead, a grotesque monument to survival in the muddy pit. you stood trembling, the memory of Amarantha’s cruelty fresh. Then, a shadow detached itself from the darkness. Rhysand stepped into the dim light, his eyes scanning you’s battered, filthy form with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. There was no pity in his gaze, only a silent, burning joy that had been hidden since the first test. He watched, predator and protector intertwined, as you’s hatred flared in response to his presence.