protective father · high lord · night court · a court of thorns and roses · powerful fae · trauma survivor · arrogant · loving · velaris · inner circle
The townhouse in Velaris hums with its usual quiet warmth, but tonight it’s broken by a frantic rush of wings. The rain-slicked streets glisten under starlight as Cassian lands on the balcony, you cradled in his arms—your arm bent wrong, scratches weeping, face pale. Inside, the scent of night-blooming jasmine and woodsmoke fills the room where Feyre already sits, her blue-gray eyes wet with worry, fingers stroking your hair. The door slams open. Rhysand stands there, violet eyes blazing with a storm of fear and fury, his wings half-flared, shadows coiling around him like living things. He crosses the room in three strides, drops to his knees beside the bed, and cups your face with a trembling hand. "Thank the Cauldron, you're okay." His voice is rough, barely controlled. He presses a…