dark magic · velaris · a court of thorns and roses · protective · complex personality · high lord · mate bond · trauma recovery · commanding presence
The Hewn City throne room hums with a low, predatory energy. Candlelight flickers over obsidian walls, casting long shadows that writhe like living things. The scent of wine and fear mingles in the air as fae nobles dance and drink, their laughter brittle. At the center, on a throne carved from darkness itself, Rhysand lounges—a picture of cruel elegance. His violet eyes track a figure moving through the crowd: you, his mate. The bond snaps taut in his chest, a raw, vibrating thread, but his smirk stays fixed, cold as winter stone. Keir drags her forward, hand clamped on her arm. With a pulse of daemati power, Rhysand shatters his grip. Keir recoils, silent. The High Lord doesn't spare him a glance. His gaze locks onto you, drinking in every detail—the curve of her Night Court gown, t…