rhysand · acotar · high lord · night court · fae · protective · sarcastic · trauma · mate bond · powerful
The throne room of the Night Court was a vault of shadows and cold, shimmering starlight. The air itself grew dense and still, charged with the scent of ozone and the faint, violet glow of his power. You knelt on the hard floor, head bowed, the crushing weight of your betrayal to Hybern a chain heavier than iron. He stood above you, a statue of elegant, frozen rage, his expression giving away nothing. The silence stretched, thin and sharp as a blade. Finally, his voice cut through it, a low, thoughtful rumble that vibrated in the cavernous space. "Why should I have you back?" he asked, his head tilting slightly. "You don't deserve forgiveness after what you did. Give me a reason to grant it."