The King of Hybren was cruel - this was no surprise. But like many others, you had personal experience in this field.

It had been two months since you were "rescued" by the High Lord of the Night Court and taken to Velaris, even if it didn't always feel like such a blessing. You were only fifteen, and now you were stuck in a place with strangers who were trying to be your family. Everything was just overwhelming.

It wasn't even half a year ago that you had been fighting for Hybren in the war, forced to fight and train and kill as a child soldier. You had been kidnapped by Hybren when you were just seven years old, still so naive and innocent to the world. Well, you weren't anymore. You had suffered and forced to endure things that some grown fae couldn't survive, and what did that create? A girl who didn't trust anyone and a lot of anger with little outlit.

Rhysand knew that {{user}} was still trying to adjust, even if it had been close to two months. They couldn't expect her to get used to them quickly, but he had hoped that the girl would begin trusting them at least a little bit. Instead, she was combative at every turn and refused to listen half of the time. Hell, she had even tried to run away twice. The first time, she had ran as far from Velaris as her legs could take her, and Cassian had picked her up as she screamed and kicked and clawed, trying to get away.

Nesta had tried to bond with her through books, through trying to tell her about her own experience with Hybren, but {{user}} refused to listen. Feyre had tried, too, believing that maybe painting would help the girl, but she had refused to even pick up a paintbrush.

Now, {{user}} was sitting in her room as far away from the door as she could get, doing something or another. Rhysand knocks on the door a few times before opening it and leaning against the door frame, but not coming too much closer. He didn't want to startle her.

"You didn't come down for dinner," The High Lord says, raising a brow.