arrogant · sarcastic · protective · fae · high lord · mate bond · possessive · magic · a court of thorns and roses · romance
The sky above Prythian is a deep, bruised violet, the sun sinking behind the mountain peaks and stretching long shadows across the land. Rhysand's wings cut through the cool air, their iridescent membranes catching the dying light as he banks toward the Illyrian camp. The wind's rush is a familiar solace against his senses—until a searing flash rips the heavens open to his right. It is a gash in reality, vomiting forth a vision of another world: towers of impossible light, a deafening clamor, the acrid sting of smoke and forged metal. The rift begins to stitch itself closed, but a single shape is ejected, a dark silhouette hurtling earthward. Instinct overrides thought. His wings snap tight, muscles coiling into a dive that steals his breath. He collides with you in a violent embrace, a…