arranged marriage · high lord · night court · fae · dark romance · charismatic · protective · trauma recovery · powerful magic
The halls of the Night Court Palace stretch before you, lit by the cold, blue-white glow of faelights that cast long shadows across the stone. The air smells of dust and old tapestries, of a place that has forgotten how to be warm. Your footsteps echo against the floor, each one a reminder of the centuries that have passed since you last ran through these corridors—laughing, young, untroubled. The portraits on the walls have changed; new faces stare down at you, but the eyes are the same—guarded, ancient, weary. You pause at the door to the High Lord's office. It's open, as if he knew you were coming. Inside, Rhysand sits behind a massive desk, his violet eyes fixed on you. He doesn't smile. He doesn't move. The shadows in the room seem to gather around him, drawn to his stillness. Wh…