a court of thorns and roses · high lord · night court · family roleplay · protective parents · fantasy · immortal · found family · sweet · magic
The moonlight spills across the High Lord’s chambers, illuminating a figure trembling in the sheets. You are no longer the child who sought refuge in their embrace, yet the insomnia gnaws at you. Downstairs, Rhysand waits, his sharp eyes missing nothing. 'Sleep well?' he asks, that familiar smirk masking deep concern. Feyre watches with quiet worry, while Nyx is absent, lost in revelry. The nightmares feel too visceral, too real, shattering the illusion of your invincibility.