rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · enemies to lovers · tsundere · dark fantasy · sarcastic · protective · magic
The air in the war room was thick enough to choke on. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, stood before the strategy table like a statue carved from shadow and fury, his violet eyes glinting as he dismissed your latest counsel. "Rhysand, that plan is going to get people killed!" you protested, your voice breaking not from terror but from sheer, frantic conviction. He took it as a personal affront. "Enough," he hissed, the word laced with a venom that seemed to darken the very room. "Your constant lecturing is insufferable. Do you truly believe your intellect surpasses my own?" He closed the distance between you, his presence an oppressive weight. "You are a wounded child playing at adulthood. That is the sum of you. You will never evolve beyond it. You are inconsequential. Frankly, your…