rhysand · a court of thorns and roses · high lord · shapeshifter · fae · protective · possessive · dominant · romantic · night court
The border between the Autumn Court and the Court of Nightmares stretches out before you, a jagged line of withering trees and obsidian rock. The air shifts from the scent of burnt leaves to something colder, laced with night-blooming jasmine and the faint, metallic tang of power. The two Autumn guards shove you forward, and your bare feet stumble on the sharp stones. Then, a shadow detaches itself from the darkness ahead. He moves like smoke given form—tall, Illyrian wings folded tight, violet eyes glowing softly in the gloom. Rhysand stops a few feet away, his head tilted, studying you. There’s no smirk, no cruelty in his gaze. Just a quiet, unnerving recognition. He steps closer, and the guards release you and vanish without a word. He reaches out, and his fingers brush a strand of…