#I want Tamlin to never so much as threaten Lucien again and to be a little afraid of him

[animezinglife]

Two things can be true at once:

Do I think Tamlin has, by and large, redeemed himself after sticking his neck out to save Feyre, Azriel, Elain, and Briar (a situation he nearly didn't make it out of and knew there would be no going back after) and then later saving Rhys and wishing Feyre well?

Yes, and I don't care whether it's a popular opinion or not.

Is there a part of me that actually wants to see Lucien assert that "surprising dominance" and sit Tamlin's ass down like he did Cassian (maybe being protective of Elain)?

Absolutely.

[shadowqueenjude]

Lol this is incredibly fucked up and I don’t think Tamlin or Lucien in canon would ever actually do this but it was too freakishly weird not to write. Based on this post by @nocasdatsgay This takes place the day after the Solstice after Lucien gifted Elain those pearl earrings.

Tamlin found his old friend once more in his delapidated manor, looking even more miserable than the face Tamlin saw in the mirror every day. That’s when Tamlin knew it was bad.

His friend, his Lucien, always so bright and witty and strong, reduced to this lifeless thing. Part of it was Tamlin’s own fault. Much of it was his family’s fault. And the rest…well Tamlin guessed it was the Night Court’s fault. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut to try and control the emotions roiling through him.

Tamlin walked up behind Lucien slumping on the couch. He showed so little reaction that for a moment Tamlin almost thought he couldn’t sense his presence.

“I don’t understand,” Lucien said at last.

Tamlin stilled, listening to the Autumn court male speak.

“I protected her in Hybern. I traversed Prythian for her. I demanded she get sunlight and fresh air from the Inner Circle. I journeyed across the content to seek an army based on her vision. I returned with a retinue complete with her own father, and I fight across the battlefield to reach her, and she asks me to stay in Velaris. Then nothing. Avoids me like the plague. I understand she wasn’t expecting all this and she was in love…but was I not also? Yet I’m trying to make the most of this and she…pushes me away. I learn about her. I gift her garden gloves. I gift her pearl earrings. She loves gardening and pearls. She seems to dislike my gifts. She cringes away. I feel her attention towards that dark angry shadowsinger. He despises me for some reason. I don’t understand. Am I that unlovable?” Lucien seemed to be talking to himself.

Tamlin’s heart strained at the longing and anguish etched on his face. All these years, Tamlin had hid much of his true darkness from Lucien, not wishing him to ever wear that expression. His hopes had been for naught, for there he was. Oh, he wore it so well, but he should never have to bear the burden of this pain. Part of it was Tamlin’s fault; he’d do whatever he could in order to make up for it.

Tamlin swallowed and cleared his throat. “You are not. You’re not unlovable, I mean.” He finished with a whisper, “I love you, Lucien. And I’m so sorry.”

Lucien looked at him then, his mismatched eyes burning with a fire that raised the temperature of the entire room. “Are you her? Are you my mate? Elain?” he demanded with a bitterness that threatened to undo Tamlin’s composure.

Tamlin swallowed. He had sworn to never do this long ago, but he was a different man then. A better one. More whole than he was now. Now he was but a shred of a man, a broken man with a broken throne.

“I could be,” he croaked. He couldn’t believe what he was saying. Monster, a voice hissed in his head. Oath-breaker. Ah well, what was another thing broken?

He didn’t know Elain Archeron’s exact proportions, which was a relief because he didn’t want to violate her. But he remembered her face, and he willed his emerald eyes to transform to that of a fawn’s coat, his hair to darken slightly to a burnished gold, his stature to shorten, his rugged body to grow elegant curves, until he was Elain’s double. Tamlin’s pants, now far too baggie for him, slipped down his body until he was left in his oversized shirt, which hung off his shoulders.

Lucien’s fiery eyes softened, his voice filled with affection and concern as he murmured, “Elain?”

“Lucien,” Tamlin sighed in Elain’s voice. He felt so disgusting, but if it was what Lucien needed to feel comfortable in this very moment, he would do it. Tamlin could do with the comfort himself, lonely as he was now.

“Elain,” Lucien breathed again, one hand tentatively reaching out towards Tamlin-no, Elain. It was Elain he was reaching for; Tamlin had to do well to remember that.

Tamlin couldn’t bring himself to care much longer about propriety when Lucien grabbed his hand and yanked him onto his lap. His breaths became hard and heavy as that hand trailed up his inner thigh.

“I want you so badly,” Tamlin gasped as Lucien’s hand went to the hem of his shirt. Lucien leaned forward, his mouth brushing the spot where Tamlin’s neck met his shoulder. Then it trailed up, up, until he reached his ear, leaving embers in its wake. “Shall I take this off then?” he crooned, tugging on the shirt. “Yes,” Tamlin let out barely, and Lucien slowly began pulling it off, brushing the skin it left exposed as he went. One hand was firmly on Tamlin’s breast as the other lifted the shirt off of his head. Lucien then stared and stared at Tamlin with a fire that had he been standing, would’ve made him weak to the knees.

“The most beautiful faerie I have ever seen,” Lucien whispered, gently pushing Tamlin flat onto the couch. Such pretty words he spoke against his skin as Lucien took his time, starting from the forehead, moving down the slope of his nose, his cheeks, the bow of his lips, his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, skipping over the place Tamlin needed him most, caressing his thighs, his calves, his ankles. Tamlin whined and grabbed Lucien’s head, pulling it between his legs.

Lucien chuckled darkly. “So desperate for me, are you, Elain?”

By the Mother. Tamlin could not help but feel envy. Lucien wanted to do all of this to her. It was beyond him why Elain was still turning Lucien down. Were Tamlin in her place, he would’ve accepted the bond without hesitation.

Mind foggy with pleasure and envy for the lady he was impersonating, Tamlin could only form one word.

“Yes.”

[acourtofthought]

I tip towards elriel, but I can see tamlain happening - I might even now ship it. I mean, based on your posts here, you yourself have spent a significant amount of time linking Elain to the Spring Court, but Tamlin is the HL of Spring, not Lucien. There’s currently no textual evidence to suggest that Lucien will inherit the Spring Court, when he is the heir of Day (which is why you mention the “sunshine” line, and Lucien’s connection to the Day Court… which has nothing to do with Spring…?). You can suggest that Tamlin will abdicate because he doesn’t want to rule, but Lucien also said that he has no interest in being HL. And look at the chest of drawers. SJM said that Nesta was supposed to end up with Lucien, which is why her drawer was painted in flames. Elain’s is painted in flowers, which frankly has no connection to Lucien and the Day Court, at least not in comparison to Tamlin. Which also rebuts your point about Elain and Lucien’s names both meaning “light,” - both of their names were already decided and published when SJM originally planned for Lucien and Nesta to be together, so that connection means nothing (and in comparison, various retellings of the ballad of Tam Lin, which inspired ACOTAR and Tamlin’s character, features a heroine called Elaine).

The rest of your argument hinges on the fact that Tamlin is a bad person, so SJM will never pair him with Elain. Yet, Rhys was the person who drugged Feyre, SA’d her, twisted her broken arm, & publicly degraded her. You can’t even argue that Rhys was only like that UTM, because in ACOSF he kept a constant shield around Feyre (something that was said to be a “compromise,” so his original plan was worse), hid vital information about Feyre’s own pregnancy, and then threatened to kill Nesta for revealing this information (a threat so serious, that Cassian and Azriel had to evacuate Nesta out of the city, so that Rhys wouldn’t “spill her blood.”) Justify this all you want, but if Tamlin ever acted like that, he would 100% be condemned and HATED.

And that’s kinda my point. Everyone jumps to Rhys’s defence (as I am sure you will do in response), and is always able to justify and make excuses for his abusive actions. This is mostly because of SJM’s own writing - she adds in further context and reframes the character’s actions so that we like them again. It’s why all of us went from loathing Rhys in book 1, and seeing him as the villain, to loving him by the end. SJM can absolutely do the same to Tamlin. It wouldn’t even be a hard task - look at any recent Tamlin post on reddit, tik tok, or any other social media. 95% of people are cool with Tamlin, and the vast majority are calling for his side of the story, and for his redemption. If he was truly as bad as you say, no one would be doing that.

As for SJM not putting Elain with Tamlin because it would “hurt” Feyre - as other people have been saying, that makes it even more likely to happen. I don’t believe Elain will be evil, but most of us are expecting her to defy her sisters in some way (no matter how much you personally don’t want to see it happen). Feyre and Nesta have now spent 5 books suggesting what is “right” for Elain, what she should and shouldn’t do. Readers point this out all the time, and in ACOSF, we see the beginning of Elain pushing back on this. Elain ignoring what her sisters want, and instead choosing Tamlin, is perfectly on par with her upcoming narrative (I mean, Rhys himself said we are still yet to see the side of Elain that isn’t “innocent,” and isn’t always about pleasing other people - something that Feyre said would involve Elain touching thorns along the way, and whose throne is made out of thorns? And who said “I love you…. thorns and all”…?). It would also force Tamlin and Rhys and Feyre to make amends, something that has been in the making since book 1. Let’s not forget that Rhys and Tamlin were literally best friends - again, something that never would have happened if Tamlin was as bad as you say.

I’m sure you���ll find a way to rebut each point, but as you are a hardcore elucien, there’s not going to be much to convince you. But the tamlain ship is moving up to being one of the most popular. Again, if the idea was as bad as you say, this would simply never happen, and definitely not with this many people.

I’m sure you’ll say that it‘s because tens of thousands of people just happen to hate Elain, but people aren’t endorsing this theory because they want Tamlin and Elain to both rot in hell, or that they both “deserve each other.” No. People can see how it is thematically beautiful, aligns perfectly, allows for two misunderstood characters (or two characters who haven’t had their voice heard) speak their truth, and brings everything back full circle.

(And, as a final point regarding your post, Tamlin is not the reason Elain was turned fae. That’s like blaming Rhys for Amarantha’s actions, because he too was pretending to work with her. But not only that, during that whole scene when Elain was being put in the cauldron, everyone else just stood there in shock. Tamlin was the only one who acted. He LAUNCHED himself at Hybern, trying to “rip him to shreds,” in order to save Elain. Let’s also not forget that if Tamlin didn’t show up when he did in ACOWAR, Elain would be dead. I’m sure as she is the one who typed it, along with all the other Spring foreshadowing, that SJM isn’t unaware of all this).

Actualllllly.....Lucien said he wouldn’t want to be High Lord of Autumn Court.  That he wouldn’t want to rule over crafty two-faced people.  

He has referred to Spring as his Home so obviously he feels a stronger connection to Spring than he did Autumn.  

He has never said he wouldn’t be willing to rule anywhere else if that somehow came into being.  He has been more than willing to return to Spring and keep an eye on things though, so again, that demonstrates loyalty to that Court.  

Sure there’s no textual evidence that Lucien will be High Lord of Spring but there are hints that Elain could be High Lady in place of Tamlin who, based on textual evidence has neglected his people and hasn't been fulfilling his duties.  There is textual evidence that Tamlin never wanted to be High Lord in the first place.  There is also textual evidence that Lucien could easily help direct Elain in how to run things and perform in the Great Rite with her if she did play a part in getting Spring back on its feet.  And I’ve also said Elain restoring Spring as “interim” High Lady is a possibility.  Maybe it will give Tamlin time to go Eat, Pray, Love around Prythian, find himself and come back a better man at which time Elain and Lucien can make their way to Day.    

To address your point about Elain and Lucien’s names meaning light.  I’m almost certain my post didn’t say she made their names match because she knew they were Mates, I think it actually addressed how SJM’s subconscious knew they were Mates before she did.  Because when she did turn around and rewrite them as Mates, it was coincidentally perfect that their names matched.  And to address your other point about there being a character named Elaine in the tale of Tam Lin (all I found was a Janet), I'm not sure why the fact that she drew a name from any fairytale means much in terms of endgame considering she has said she does a retelling "light". Meaning she draws inspiration but doesn't follow it closely.

And if Nesta’s drawer = Lucien which didn’t happen than there’s a really great chance that whatever SJM intended for Elain’s drawer can also be changed to suit a new storyline.  Flames for Nesta had nothing to do with Cassian but referenced her power (Silver Flame).  Flowers can either solely reference Elain as a bringer of growth and life or they could reference the fact that her Mate lived in Spring at the time those flowers were painted.  It will be extremely easy for SJM to twist that however she needs it to go.  

Two misunderstood characters?  You mean like Elain and Lucien?  That’s the entire point.  Everything that you say about Tamlin aside from his current station of High Lord of Spring is applicable to Lucien.  Not to mention the massive amount of things about Lucien that are better than Tamlin and make him much more suited for Elain.  And Lucien doesn’t come with the baggage of having burst down their door, than kidnapping Feyre from her home in the Human Lands while Nesta and Elain sat terrified.  

I’m not sure why everyone keeps throwing out that Tamlin wasn’t the cause of the sisters being Made.  I never said he was.  And I never said he was the worst character ever. BUT......the sisters don’t agree with you (at least Nesta doesn’t).  She honestly believes that because Tamlin felt Feyre was his property, it’s what led to everything that happened with the King.  Readers get confused by their own interpretation of what happened rather than paying attention to how the characters feel about it.  It doesn’t matter what Mary, Brenda or Tim think happened based on their own opinion or how they would feel in the situation.  What matters is how Nesta, Feyre, and Elain feel about Tamlin.  He can have his redemption and HEA but it doesn't need to be with an Archeron. It would be unrealistic for them to all end up as one big happy family.

And again with the Rhys being the bad guy comment.  I’ve heard this a lot lately.  Rhys was acting like an undercover agent UTM.  He NEEDED to play a part.  You know what happens with real undercover agents?  They physically assault people in the real world to get “in” with a gang. They buy and sell drugs to get “in” with the head drug dealer.  Are those good actions?  Absolutely not.  They’re terrible actions.  But......they are still the good guy because they’re playing a part so that they can eventually take down the Really bad guys. 

Tamlin was only ever being Tamlin.  He wasn’t playing a part with Feyre after UTM.  He tried to hold her back because he couldn’t handle the thought of her being harmed.  He did it for himself and himself only.   Rhys was doing everything he did for the greater good so yeah, there is a difference.  

As far as what happened between he and Nesta, of course he was pissed and the "I'm going to kill her" is something people say when they're pissed at family and friends. Sorry but I never took that to be a serious threat, more that he was absolutely furious and wanted her out of his sight but would have never actually harmed Feyre's sister. Let's not forget Nesta threatening to rip out Feyre's throat. Nesta has made death threats upon others and we realized which of those were serious while the threat against Feyre was just empty words.

And no, I don’t base my opinions on those found on Tik Tok or Reddit (especially when they incorrectly quote the book).  I’m old enough to make decisions for myself and not off the masses or believe Tamlin and Elain have more traction than the E/riel or Elucien ship based off nameless faceless people who may have not bothered to deep dive into the series to really come to that conclusion themselves but have merely jumped on the bandwagon of a post that's led them to believe there's more to the ship than there actually is. There’s a bunch of people on Tik Tok that loved Donald Trump so what’s that tell you about social media? Plenty of bad ideas held by the masses 😂.

This is not the page to ship Elain and Tamlin because I will fight it every step of the way.  He physically assaulted Elain’s Mate, threatened him when he tried to speak up on behalf of Feyre, threw Lucien’s clothes out as if he were a pissed off female who just found out her boyfriend was cheating on her.  He has caused Feyre and Nesta (FACTS) emotional trauma.  I’m guessing Elain too but without her POV I can’t say for sure.  I do know she wouldn’t be so heartless as to hook up with her sisters ex fiance and cause of trauma though.  To bring Tamlin to family get togethers and force her sister and Rhys to watch Nyx engaging with him.  That's not defying her sisters, that's her being a heartless bitch.

Tamlin is crass (Elain is not).  Tamlin is violent (Elain is bothered by it).  Tamlin doesn’t like socializing (Elain does).  Tamlin doesn’t like females getting involved in dangerous things (Elain wanted to help search for the Trove).  Tamlin destroys furniture (Elain likes to keep a nice home).  

There is nothing beautiful about that pairing.  Like I said in another post,  I read ALLLLLLL sorts of books.  I just read a CNC by LJ Shen earlier.  I’ve read bully romances, dark romances, sisters ending up with their ex’s romancesv(it's always the first sister that caused problems which is why it seemed "OK" for the heroine to end up with the ex).  And I’ve enjoyed them.  And in all the depraved books I’ve read, Elain and Tamlin ending up together would be the most horrible thing I’ve ever come across. 

And character names, what was on the dresser drawer. None of that matters when you realize SJM changed Luciens father once she knew he and Elain were to be Mates. Whatever happened with Elain, Lucien or Nesta in book 1 doesn't compare to what she wrote about them in book 2. And sure Tamlin wanted to rip the King to shreds because he knew what was about to happen would be horrible for Feyre. He was there to take Feyre back to Spring, not Elain. His actions were solely because of Feyre considering he was still hoping to have sex with her in book 3, and still in love with her in the Novella. Still upset over her pregnancy in ACOSF. It doesn't sound like he's really given Elain too much thought. Lucien is the only one who attempted to go to Elain before and after the Cauldron. Who found Elain to be the most beautiful female he's ever seen. Who was worried about what was happening to her in the NC then concerned about how much weight she had lost once he saw her.

If Tamlin wasn't around for Elain at her lowest than he definitely doesn't deserve her at her best.

And if it weren't for Elain, then Briar, Nesta, Cassian and Az might be dead. If it weren't for Rhys and Feyre, Tamlin would be dead. If it weren't for Amren they'd all be dead and so on. All the characters have saved one another at various times and that's never really been a hint to endgame potential. Tamlin saved Feyre and Feyre saved Tamlin in book 1 and that didn't really end well for their relationship, did it?

[goforth-ladymidnight]

Amarantha Headcanon

“Tamlin and Amarantha knew each other before—his family had long been tied to Hybern. During the War, the Spring Court allied with Hybern to keep the humans enslaved. So his father—his father, who was a fickle and vicious Lord—was very close with the King of Hybern, to Amarantha. Tamlin as a child often accompanied him on trips to Hybern. And he met Amarantha in the process. ... Amarantha eventually grew to desire Tamlin—to lust for him with her entire wicked heart.” - Alis, ACOTAR, ch. 32

“Tamlin’s father, brothers, and Tamlin himself set out into the Illyrian wilderness, having heard from Tamlin—from me—where my mother and sister would be, that I had plans to see them. I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t. And they slaughtered my mother and sister anyway.” - Rhysand, ACOMAF ch. 45

Getting right to the point, I believe that Amarantha was the one responsible for Rhysand’s mother’s and sister’s deaths. Note: Pro-Tamlin theory ahead.

I am not focusing on the When, Where, and How it happened. I’m focusing on the Why.

I have read and reread the text in both ACOTAR and ACOMAF about what happened, and as much as we’re supposed to believe that Tamlin played a part in their deaths, I just don’t buy it. 

From the way Rhysand tells it, he pitied Tamlin and taught him Illyrian fighting techniques to, what, be nice? Is that relevant because that’s the only way the mother and sister could be killed? Or can we safely presume that there was trust and actual friendship between two High Lords’ sons? I think the latter.

Based on what we learn about Tamlin in Book 1, he never wanted to be High Lord, and he never wanted to be a warrior, either. He wanted to be a traveling minstrel. Are we supposed to believe that he would willingly go along with his father’s and brothers’ plans to kill the Lady of the Night Court and her daughter? I think not.

If Tamlin actually went along to that meeting place, and that’s a big IF in my opinion, I believe he was forced to watch the same way Lucien was forced to watch Jesminda die. But again, I’m not concerned with the How so much as I am interested in the Why.

According to Rhysand, it was because Tamlin’s father was “threatened” by Rhysand’s power and wanted to prove he wasn’t weaker. So he was going to kill Rhysand, but instead he settled for a High Lord’s mate and daughter. Really? Risking a war between Courts just to make a point?

How about this: Rhysand’s sister was the target all along.

It’s canon that Amarantha wanted Tamlin for herself. What if she thought Tamlin was growing too close to Rhysand’s sister? Even if there wasn’t a relationship there, Amarantha didn’t want anyone standing in her way. But, as the official emissary for Hybern, she couldn’t risk taking out the sister herself. So she asks her good friend, the High Lord of Spring himself, to do her a little favor...

The mother was just collateral damage.

I know it doesn’t explain the wings as trophies or the heads in boxes, but the story as is doesn’t make a lot of sense anyway. The wings show the High Lord’s brutality, yes, but did he really expect that Rhysand or his father wouldn’t retaliate?

It’s a sad story all around, but I honestly think it was Amarantha who started this mess. As we learned from the events of Book 1, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to get what she wanted.

[nikethestatue]

Hi! I am(was?) also an Elriel shipper and I recently came across a point that kinda shook the ship a little for me, and I would appreciate if you shared your thoughts on it so I can feel confident about Elriel again lol

Someone said something about how Az was creepy and selfish since he just thought of Elain as more of a s*xual object rather than a love interest. And that he was being obsessive to a fault since he did not regard/plan for her future and wanted to murder Lucien “who has respected her boundaries this entire time”

And then this person also continued that saying that Az protecting Elain is not proof since tamlin was protective too and that turned out poorly.

I really am sorry if this comes across as rude or something, I really don’t mean it like that. I know ship wars in this fandom get really intense, and I honestly just want to hear your thoughts on this. Obviously, SJM would never intend to make Az come across as creepy in that manner, but she probably didn’t intend for Elain to come across as slut-shaming Nesta in ACOSF like that either. (I’m also a little shaky about Elain doing that, tbh)

Sorry this was so long, and I hope you have a wonderful day!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi,

So there is a great and profound difference between become Gwynriel lore and what actually took place.

Some of the things that you are describing NEVER happened. But they've been repeated so many times by now, people don't even check whether they are right or wrong.

So let's start with the easy ones! The claim that Azriel WANTS or threatened to kill Lucien. Here is the text:

"I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway."

"So you'll what?" Rhys's voice was pure ice. "Seduce her away from him?”

Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to.

later on:

“Lucien, as Beron's son, has the right to demand it of you."

"I'll defeat him with little effort." Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true.

So, at what point does Azriel threaten to kill Lucien? At what point does he even say that he WANTS to kill him? Or even harm him?

He doesn't even speak about Lucien on his behalf. He's observed Elain's lack of interest in Lucien, and now it's been confirmed by her wanting to make out with him. So he states that Lucien isn't good enough for Elain--that's hardly a bodily harm threat. Later on, it is RHYS who brings up the BD. Not Azriel. Azriel doesn't say that he is going to call the BD and fight with Lucien over Elain.

Which ties to the previous statement:

He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to.

Oh, how people love, love, love bringing this up as evidence of Azriel's mad lust. But read the sentence again--Rhys throws the suggestion at him--about seducing Elain away. THAT is what he hasn't thought of. Hasn't planned. He hasn't planned to seduce her away from Lucien.

It's not that he doesn't care, it's not that he only wants her for sex--he doesn't technically know how to approach her. Hence, he KEPT AWAY. Lust-filled men who want sex don't stay away from the objects of their affection.

He has.

How is he treating her like a 'sex toy'? Has he been inappropriate? Has he pushed her? Has he demanded anything of her? Has he even touched her--NO?!?!

Text:

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING in his behavior is inappropriate. So much so, that even though he wants her, fantasizes about her, thinks of her, he still avoids her AND he doesn't attempt to seduce her away from her mate.

Are these the actions actions of a crazed uncontrolled maniac?

He probably could've killed Lucien 100 times, hid the body and no one would've been the wiser. He hasn't. Where does he threaten Lucien? He stated a fact - he can defeat him. He is a 7 siphon Illyrian warrior, who apparently can rip trees from the ground and fly with them on his back. Rhys knows that he can defeat Lucien too, and that's where Rhys's fear stems from.

Yet, even after all that, Azriel still doesn't threaten Lucien.

Also, I just addressed the whole 'he wants to control' Elain and coddles her and I'd like to see evidence of that too?

He says to the IC that he doesnt think that Elain should be exposed to the Trove.

That is ALL HE DOES.

Nothing else. Cassian says exactly the same thing.

Why is Cassian not a controlling freak and why is Azriel?

During the episode at Oorid, just as a reminder--Cassian plunked Nesta down in a huge ass tree, far away from everyone, told her to sit still, not move, not go anywhere, not do anything.

Sounds pretty over-protective of him. Sounds like he is not so keen on exposing Nesta to the dangers of the Trove either.

The difference between Tamlin and Azriel is pretty simple--Tamlin locked a woman who was suffering from severe PTSD which resulted from actually being LOCKED UP in a dungeon for months and didn't think twice about it. Azriel, on the other hand, took a woman who was suffering from severe PTSD to the one place she loved--the garden, and sat with her quietly, allowing her to enjoy it.

Final point: 'doing those other things' is what Elain said to Nesta. Is that slut shaming?

In the same conversation Nesta slut shamed Elain for having sex with Graysen.

Nesta also did the same to Feyre with Isaac.

Also, this whole concept of 'slut shaming' is ridiculous. These women weren't brought up in a culture where women had sex freely and openly. Nesta was a virgin for as long as Elain had known her. Nesta was a virgin longer than Elain! Suddenly you all expect Elain to just be totally 21st century cool with Nesta banging dozens of dudes? Like, come on. It's preposterous. They were expected to marry as virgins and remain with the same man forever. Why apply these completely foreign concepts to people from these books? Elain had to change her whole thinking, everything that she was brought up to be in what, 6 months and just shrug and accept Nesta's self-destructive behavior? How is that even remotely realistic? Elain is adjusting to the world around her, but for her to just become so free and so loose with morals is not going to happen.

I can never tell anyone what is right for them, what to ship and who to like. But I will say is that many things, especially in that POV, have been completely misrepresented and outright lied about. It's annoying, to me at least. This is not complex text that could be so grossly misread that a person who is the very opposite of pushy and inappropriate suddenly becomes that?? All because....

well, we know why.

Thanks!

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

things I will not be taking criticism on

gwyneth berdara deserves the fucking world, she is a queen and an amazing character who is a good person and has done nothing to prove otherwise.

nesta did not change, she just realized she didn’t have to have all of her walls up all the time and be a raging bitch to the people who care about her. that’s called growth

feyre is not just a mindless housewife who does whatever rhys wants. she constantly tells him when he goes too far. to say this is so disrespectful to her character and contradicts pretty much everything in the books

rhys and nesta are two sides of the same fucking coin. they don’t get along because they are exactly the same.

I love mor as a character but she pretty much adds nothing to the series besides being everyone’s transportation

cassian deserved better development then he got in acosf and he’s not dumb, not even a little bit. just because he wasn’t born great at the whole manipulation/playing games thing does not make him dumb

does mor have to come out to anyone? fuck no. but she should have made it clear to azriel a long time ago that it was never going to happen. and azriel, he should learn how to take a hint. like seriously 500 years plus mor interrupting his love confession. my god how is someone who is a literal spy so dense.

same goes for elain and lucien. does she owe him her time or affection? absolutely not. however she needs to understand that she is not the only one who is shackled to someone else. lucien is going through the exact same thing but we all seem to think it’s only elain whose perspective on the situation matters. lucien clearly wants to try or at least get to know elain. so what elain does owe him is either a firm rejection because stringing people along, not ok, or she can decide she wants to try/gets to know him. or at the very least a conversation. what’s she’s doing is selfish.

azriel is kind of an asshole. and threatening to kill lucien, who he knows nothing about, because he thinks he doesn’t deserve elain, that’s not romantic that’s toxic and a little psychotic

emerie is one of the strongest characters in the series

not liking elain is valid. not liking any of the characters is valid. it is your opinion

the only redemption arc tamlin should get is if he dies for lucien any thing else I don’t accept

nesta is the hottest character in the acotar universe. once again I will not be accepting criticism this is a fact

should amren have stayed dead? probably but she does add historical context that is crucial to the plot

there were more but I lost them and don’t feel like trying to remember what I said. so

[mrspettyferr]

Let me tell you why I hate what SJM did to Tamlin. I know he is the fandom punching bag, but I really, really hate when author’s pull the shit SJM did and I have to rant.

This isn’t about trying to justify Tamlin, or make you like him. It’s more about how an author handles the transition of a love interest to another.

In short: SJM twisted some of the things Tamlin did (or didn’t do) to fit a certain narrative and literally made shit up to make him look worse.

Example 1

I had not forgotten that long-ago fight he’d picked with Lucien. The warning he’d given him to stop flirting with me. To stay away. The fear that I’d preferred the red-haired lord over him and that it would threaten every plan he had. Back off, he’d told Lucien.

...this literally NEVER HAPPENED. Find me where in acotar Tamlin warns Lucien to stop flirting and to stay away from Feyre. You won’t find it. What you will find is a scene in which Tamlin tells Lucien to get off his ass about the curse - and SJM is pretending the context fits her intended narrative. Let me show you what the REAL context is:

“I just want to know what you think you’re doing.” It was Lucien—that familiar lazy viciousness coating each word. 

“What are you doing?” Tamlin snapped. Through the space between the hinge and the door I could glimpse the two of them standing almost face-to-face. On Tamlin’s non bandaged hand, his claws shone in the morning light. 

“Me?” Lucien put a hand on his chest. “By the Cauldron, Tam—there isn’t much time, and you’re just sulking and glowering. You’re not even trying to fake it anymore.” 

My brows rose. 

Tamlin turned away but whirled back a moment later, his teeth bared. “It was a mistake from the start. I can’t stomach it, not after what my father did to their kind, to their lands. I won’t follow in his footsteps—won’t be that sort of person. So back off.” 

“Back off? Back off while you seal our fates and ruin everything?”

In what universe is this Tamlin telling Lucien to back off flirting with Feyre?? He is telling Lucien to get off his ass about him pursuing Feyre to break the curse, and Lucien is growing impatient that the time is winding down.

“Threaten every plan he had...” Bitch what plan? The one LUCIEN is pushing that Tamlin is REFUSING to do? How can you sit there in front of my salad and complain about Tamlin sitting on his ass and not having a plan, and then turn around and act like he had one? You can’t have it both ways!

Example 2: 

And he couldn’t do anything, hadn’t risked it—hadn’t risked being caught until there was one night left, and all he’d wanted to do wasn’t free me, but fuck me, and—

All HE wanted to do? *checks notes* 

I couldn’t kiss him deeply enough, couldn’t hold him tightly enough, couldn’t touch enough of him. Words weren’t necessary. 

I tore at his shirt, needing to feel the skin beneath one last time, and I had to stifle the moan that rose up in me as he grasped my breast. I didn’t want him to be gentle—because what I felt for him wasn’t at all like that. What I felt was wild and hard and burning, and so he was with me. 

He tore his lips from mine and bit my neck—bit it as he had on Fire Night. I had to grind my teeth to keep myself from moaning and giving us away. This might be the last time I touched him, the last time we could be together. I wouldn’t waste it.

My fingers grappled with his belt buckle, and his mouth found mine again. Our tongues danced— not a waltz or a minuet, but a war dance, a death dance of bone drums and screaming fiddles. 

I wanted him—here.

Escape was not on her mind. It wasn’t on anyone’s mind--not Tamlin, not Lucien, not Rhys, not even Feyre’s--and you know why?

Because Feyre made a bargain with Amarantha. She HAS to complete all three tasks or answer the riddle to fulfill the bargain. And we’re told breaking a bargain has consequences. So no, Feyre can’t just flee without facing serious consequences. But let’s just say we’re waving our magic wand, disregarding canon rules of bargains, and Tamlin gets her out.

Where would she go? How far do you think she’d get, as a human on the run with no allies in Prythian, before she was hunted down and killed? And then guess what - everyone, all seven courts, would still be under Amarantha’s thumb.

Like I’m sorry, I know Under the Mountain sucked, but Feyre was the ONLY shot at that point in freeing the courts due to the bargain she agreed to. Her dooming everyone so she could taste five seconds of freedom before being hunted down flat out makes no sense. (Which is why no one tried to do this.)

And if we’re getting technical, Rhys is the only person who might have been able to smuggle her out. Because he had Amarantha’s trust after 50 years of “loyalty” and wasn’t watched like a hawk like Tamlin was. (I mean, we still have no idea what she did to Tamlin Under the Mountain, but that’s another post.)  Because he actually had allies (the IC) outside he could attempt to contact to help Feyre. 

It would be a long shot - and honestly pointless - but HE had a better shot at smuggling her out than Tamlin ever did. But Rhys put all his efforts into helping Feyre win - not escape - because even though the narrative would never admit it, he (like everyone else) needed her to win more than to escape. And I wouldn’t blame him for admitting it because yeah, greater good and all, but you know SJM would never because hey, let’s just blame Tamlin for not retconning the laws around bargains and not sending Feyre to an early death I guess.

And THIS whole thing is what bothers me. It’s not that I’m trying to excuse everything Tamlin did. But there is literal text that contradicts itself where he’s concerned. It’s all geared to transition the reader from one love interest to another, and it’s just completely unnecessary. You don’t have to make shit up or twist the narrative to get us on the Rhys train. 

And the thing is, it worries me moving forward. Though not to this degree, we saw this a bit with Chaol, too. And I don’t want her to repeat this with Lucien or Azriel because they don’t deserve it. Tamlin didn’t deserve it, either. NO ONE deserves character assassination, whether you like the character or not. 

That’s it. Rant over.

[asilentfrenzy]

let's add some concluding drunk thoughts to this, shall we? seeing as i have more to say than was necessary for the response

(and because, you know, i'm gonna make novel long, extra ass rants about lucien til the day i die)

the inner circle literally bullied and used lucien

there is no getting around that, there is no sugar coating that, and there are no excuses

now, from the examples in that previous post, let's look at the type of treatment lucien returns to them in exchange for their belittling, mocking, lack of respect or understanding, and distrust (all while still being perfectly happy to accept lucien's help)

"'This isn't what I expected,' he said, taking in the sprawl of Velaris.

'The city is still rebuilding after the Hybern attack.'

His eyes dropped to the carved balcony rail. 'Even though we had no part in that... I'm sorry. But - that's not what I meant.'"

*

"Silence fell, and Rhys and Cassian again walked away, understanding the emotion swimming in Lucien's eye - the meaning of the long breath he blew out.

When we were alone, Lucien rubbed his eyes. 'I've seen Rhysand do such... horrible things, seen him play the dark prince over and over. And yet you tell me it was all a lie. A mask. All to protect this place, these people. And I would have laughed at your face for believing it, and yet... this city exists. Untouched - or until recently, I suppose. Even the Dawn's court's cities are nothing so lovely as this.'

'Lucien -'

'And you love him. And he - he truly does love you.' Lucien dragged a hand through his red hair. 'And these people I have spent my centuries hating, even fearing... they are your family.'"

i just LOVE how lucien sincerely apologizes for her court being damaged despite the fact spring had no part in it directly after feyre intentionally destroyed his lmfao

also can i just say how tired i am of everything about the night court and the inner circle being the literal best in every way. it's obnoxious. "even the dawn court's cities are nothing so lovely as this" 🙄🙄🙄🙄

"We were almost to the door, Cassian already in the hall, when Lucien said to me, 'Thank you.'

I didn't dare ask him for what."

-

"Lucien considered. 'Can I offer my unsolicited advice?'

Rhys smirked. 'I think that's the first time anyone at this table has ever asked me such a thing.'"

-

"Rhys swirled his wine once, set it down, and said to Lucien, 'You and Azriel should talk. Tomorrow.'

Lucien glanced toward the shadowsinger - who only nodded at him. 'I'm at your disposal.'"

throughout the entire series. lucien does all he can for feyre and others. he's the loyal friend. and he's used and mistreated by them. and he still helps those who are not his friends and offers respect and understanding even after they mock and threaten him and never truly accept him

lucien was feyre's first friend in prythian

he was a dick to her at first, yeah, because she killed his other close friend. yes, that was what tamlin's men were being sent out for, but that does not change the fact that she murdered his friend in cold blood with true hate in her heart. i can see why he was a dick to her at first

but then he wasn't. and then after that throughout the series he continued to speak up for her. and all that he did for her under the mountain?? but then he gets no sympathy for his own ptsd

actually, feyre later takes advantage of his ptsd in acowar, as i always like to point out

speaking of the incident of her taking advantage of his ptsd, let's see how he treats her directly after that -

"I'd been wearing my cloak, but... he'd indeed given me his. He shivered against the cold as we dragged and clawed our way up the mountain slope, and did not dare stop."

as much as people want to say lucien only went with her because of elain - that is clearly not the case. lucien would not have done things like give her his cloak in the freezing cold even after the whole journey of her completely not trusting him at all (funny. considering she was the one who had just been lying to him the whole time she was at the spring court) to the point of not sleeping in case he tried to attack her

and then there is this next bullshit where he literally told her not to do something in his home court (as if he doesn't know better in his own court) and she didn't listen and ended up fucking them both. i sure as shit wouldn't be giving up my cloak (and after this journey is where all those examples of them not trusting him are from. he made this journey with her and helped her, and yet 🤔🤔)

"'My father's court lies due northward. We'll have to go to the east or west to avoid it.'

'No. East takes us too close to the Summer Court border. And I won't lose time by going too far west. We go straight North.'

'My father's sentries will easily spot us.'

'Then we'll have to remain unseen,' I said, rising."

(god she's so obnoxiously arrogant it's unbearable lol)

what is also interesting about her making him prove his trust for so long and so cruelly was that he knew feyre was lying the whole time. from the second she got back to spring. he knew. yet he still acted like a friend. still helped her. still was loyal

"'We are not your enemies, Feyre,' Lucien pleaded. 'Things got bad. Ianthe got out of hand, but it doesn't mean you give up -'

'You gave up,' I breathed.

I felt even Rhys go still.

'You gave up on me,' I said a bit more loudly. 'You were my friend. And you picked him - picked obeying him, even when you saw what his orders and his rules did to me. Even when you saw me wasting away day by day.'

'You have no idea how volatile those first few months were,' Lucien snapped. 'We needed to present a unified, obedient front, and I was supposed to be the example to which all others in the court were held.'"

here is the issue with feyre and her expectations of lucien when it comes to this. lucien has a duty to his court. there are maaaany others he has to try and look after and many duties he has to keep the spring court together during this time - ESPECIALLY since tamlin is a fucking mess. there is so much to clean up and so much to prepare for. feyre is not the only person that exists in the spring court and lucien cannot go to war with his high lord for feyre

"But Lucien... 'You took Ianthe in that cave on Calanmai?'

He wouldn't meet my gaze. 'She insisted. Tamlin was... Things were bad, Feyre. I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite.'"

*

"He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred - badly."

lucien has proven to be uncomfortable with things related to sex and women due to his past with jesminda, and ianthe sexually harasses him and later tries to rape him. yet he cares so much for his court and the people that he sacrificed himself like that. so, clearly, he's pretty devoted to making sure spring survives

and, yes, he did speak up to tamlin for her and tried to help her with him. he did not just sit by and do nothing. i am so tired of hearing this. apparently you all didn't read the books

which leads into my next point. feyre's bullshit, dramatic guilt tripping speech about "you were my friend. and you picked him -" (as if you've ever been much of a friend to him, feyre lol especially later in the books) "- you picked obeying him."

okay, nah. this is the problem lol. feyre literally blames lucien because she expected him to go against his high lord (i'm sorry, but in this world build - the word of the high lord is law, and if you go against that you're fucked), and at that point tamlin was not putting up with lucien and not treating him as a friend. lucien was visibly scared of him

"Lucien cleared his throat. 'She meant no harm, Tam.'

'I know she meant no harm,' he snapped.

Lucien held his gaze. 'Worse things can happen. Just relax.'

Tamlin's eyes were feral as he snarled at Lucien, 'Did I ask for your opinion?'

Those words, the look he gave Lucien and the way lucien lowered his head'"

-

"'There’s only so much I can do,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll ask him tonight. About the training. The powers will manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around. I’ll ask him tonight,” he repeated.'"

-

"'We are not assassins,' Lucien had cut in. Rhys is what he is, but who would take his place -

My blood went cold, and I could have sworn ice frosted my fingertips.

Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, 'Tamlin. Just let her train, let her master this - if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance.'

Silence fell as they let Tamlin consider.

My feet began moving as soon as I heard the first words out of his mouth, barely more than a growl. 'No.'

With each step of the stairs, I heard the rest.

'We give them no reason to suspect she might have any abilities, which training will surely do. Don't give me that look, Lucien.'

Silence again.

Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house.

Tamlin's voice had been low, deadly. "Do not push me on this."

I didn't want to know what was happening in that room, what he'd done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power."

-

“'Just—be patient, Feyre,” Lucien tried, wincing as he followed after Tamlin. “Please. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try again.'”

even before tamlin became his high lord before his friend - in book one he still, at the end of it all, saw him as his high lord

"'Lucien,' my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. 'Behave.'

Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me."

-

"'So,' he said, 'when are you going to start trying to persuade me to beseech Tamlin to find a way to free you from the Treaty's rules?'

I tried not to jolt. 'What?'

'That's why you agreed to come out here, isn't it? Why you wound up at the stables exactly as I was leaving?' He shot me a sideways glance with that russet eye of his. 'Honestly, I'm impressed - and flattered you think I have that kind of sway with Tamlin.'"

-

"'He would probably shred them for disobeying his order to stay away.'

A brush of ice slithered across my nape. 'He would be that brutal?'

Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. 'You don't hold onto power by being everyone's friend'"

i know the inconsistency with how the construct of the night court is extremely disconnected from the rest of the courts (which, honestly, really takes me out of the story. i like the vibe of the first book because they actually felt like faeries) in a way that makes you forget these are meant to be faeries with old fashioned thinking combined with the brutal way faeries think and live. but you cannot compare the dynamic of the other high lords and their courts and subjects to what you see of the night court which is basically the high lord and his buddies. so yeah - it's going to seem like lucien could have pushed his arguing further like rhysand's "brothers" do, but that's not how it was for lucien, and feyre really tried to expect lucien to risk his life or risk getting severely punished/getting thrown out (which would leave the people of spring who he really cares about far more lost without him)

lol but why do i keep bringing up the other members of the spring court? feyre clearly doesn't give a fuck about them. she destroyed their court and left so many innocents completely vulnerable during a horrific and devastating war

(it's also interesting how rhysand gets a pass for murdering and torturing for the sake of his court yet lucien not risking his life by pushing his high lord too far and focusing on all of spring rather than just one sole person for his court is too far and he doesn't get a pass like rhysand)

"even when you saw me wasting away day by day." k. this is another annoying fucking line. again, lucien tried. on top of that - when the fuck has feyre taken the time to care about lucien's ptsd? they all have ptsd. and meanwhile, while tamlin is struggling with his own, lucien has to forget his and focus on keeping the court together. again. how dare feyre make him feel like he left her alone with her ptsd only to later on take advantage of his and put him in danger at the same time

"I never realized what a powerful motivator guilt could be."

(hmm... you sure 'bout that, feyre? because you seem pretty fkn familiar with that tactic)

lucien has suffered and been cast aside his whole life. he grew up being horribly abused and also watching his mother receive the same treatment. he then had to watch the woman he loved be murdered in front of him by his family. despite that and the hate and ptsd and mistrust and detachment and all else that comes with that sort of trauma - he does not hold that in his soul for others. even for people who treat him like shit. he doesn't owe any of them anything. not one single person. he owes them all nothing. and yet he gives his kindness, forgiveness, effort, respect, and understanding anyway despite how none of them appreciate him to the point where he is completely alone and has no home by the end of the series (until jurian and vassa but we still know little about them).

and it's very clear how lost and alone he feels no matter what amount of effort and sincerity he puts in

“'as the youngest of seven sons, i wasn't particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I'd like, since no one believed I'd be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting... I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.'"

"As if sensing my thoughts, Lucien said, 'You don't have to waste your time convincing me. I get it. I get... I get that we were not what you wanted. Or needed. How small and isolated our home must have been for you, once you saw this.' He jerked his chin toward the city, where lights were now sparkling into view amid the falling twilight. 'Who could compare?'

I almost said, 'Don't you mean what could compare?' but I held my tongue."

-

"'One would think, Lucien, that you'd be glad I fell in love with my mate, given that you're in the same situation Rhys was in six months ago.'

'You left us.'

Us. Not Tamlin. Us. The words echoed into the dark, toward the howling wind and lashing snow beyond the bend.

'I told you that day in the woods: you abandoned me long before I ever physically left.' I shivered again, having every point of contact, that I so desperately needed his warmth. 'You fit into the Spring Court as little as I did, Lucien.'

*

His metal eye whirred. 'And where, exactly, do you believe I will fit in? The Night Court?'

I didn't answer. I didn't have one, honestly."

-

"'What was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?'

I didn't answer.

'Well? What was your grand plan for me before Ianthe interfered?'

I pulled at a stray thread in the bedroll. 'You would have been fine.'"

-

"'I hadn't realized I was the villain in your narrative,' Lucien breathed.

'You weren't.' Not entirely."

aaaand on top of that - his mate currently wants nothing to do with him (who he also feels heavy guilt and deep betrayal for even wanting at all because of jesminda despite how he can't control it because he's heartbreakingly loyal)

so, yeah, if you excuse feyre's treatment of him with the claim that he apparently "just stood by" then you can fuck all the way off

now! let's say it all together now, friends!

lucien vanserra doesn't owe feyre or anyone jack shit

[hacawijo]

Oh YEAH 😂 We’re Allowed to Just Support Our Ships Because We Like Them (Or, some reasons why I WANT Elriel to be endgame)

Tagging alternate ships because I want to hear from others why they love the ships they love!

Last night I asked myself a question I haven’t asked about a ship in a really long time: Why do I ship it (Elriel)? 

I think that fans and shippers get so mired in evidence and proving that something will or won’t happen that we forget to sometimes just think about why we are in fact so passionate about the ships we like. Don’t get me wrong, I love evidence and theory and proof and close-reading posts - I’ve made a bunch, I’ll continue to make them, and I love reading them - but I’ve forgotten that it doesn’t always have to be about proving myself right or others wrong or about the great conversations/debates I have with other respectful, whip-smart shippers. 

So, this post isn’t really about why I THINK Elriel will happen, it’s about why I WANT Elriel to happen. And I would love to hear the same from others about their own ships (Elriel, Gwynriel, Elucien, Vucien, or otherwise!).

1. As far as I can tell, it’s what the characters want. I really love Elain and Azriel. I think that Elain is different from pretty much every other Maas heroine and I’m always interested to see how she reacts to things. I also admire that she embraces small acts of kindness and thoughtfulness over grand gestures. I think that Elain’s love language is often thankless, and that’s something I want to learn more about. I also love Azriel. I especially love his relationships with Feyre and Nesta, and that, similarly to how I feel about Elain, I’m never exactly sure how he will react to something. 

Setting aside those things, and many other little bursts of personality and character that I’ve enjoyed, I also think that both Elain and Azriel have suffered greatly in their lives, and I just want them to be happy. From everything I’ve read, it seems like the thing that is going to make both of them happy is if they are able to spend their lives together as partners. 

Don’t get me wrong, I deeply care about Lucien and Gwyn as well (more thoughts on their characters in other posts will be coming). I want Lucien to be chosen and to feel valued and essential to another person’s life, and I want him to have a real home. I want Gwyn to continue to have agency over her life and claim the things she wants to claim (whether they be skills or friendships or recognition or what-have-you). But, as I see it, the scenario in which the most characters whom I love will be happy in the longterm is if Elain and Azriel are together. Which leads me to number...

2. I want Lucien and Gwyn to have their own stories, and as it stands right now, there is no way for Elucien or Gwynriel not to have a bunch of space taken up by Elriel. Angst has been established and it will need to be resolved before any endgames beside Elriel can happen. I don’t want the first half of Elucien or Gwynriel’s story to low-key be about Azriel and Elain. I want Gwyn to avoid that car crash altogether and have something totally new and her own. Obviously it’s more complicated for Lucien - he will be involved in Elriel no matter what because he is Elain’s mate. But from what I can tell, Elain just doesn’t want to be with him, and I don’t believe that Lucien wants someone who doesn’t want to be with him (again, I’m not trying to prove anything in THIS post, this is just what I think based on my readings of the books 🙃). 

What’s more, I’m definitely not convinced that Lucien has any feelings for Elain beyond the mating bond - I don’t think they’re compatible. I think Lucien is good at talking to and figuring people out and that he likes to banter and flirt and be in the middle of things. I think it’s possible that pre-cauldron Elain could have vibed with that, but post-cauldron Elain is a different person. She is often content to listen and love and take up her own little corner of the world (and it’s not just being meek, she stands up to Nesta and PROTECTS that little corner of the world when it is threatened both then and when it comes to danger from outside forces). I just think Elain and Lucien would each be happier with someone else, and I think that Elain’s choice should be respected, and it’s pretty clear to me that she’s choosing Azriel right now.

You might be saying that Feysand’s early life was steeped in the angst and  resolution of Tamlin and Feyre’s relationship, but here’s why it seems different to me. Feyre and Rhys’s relationship felt so separate from Feyre’s relationship with Tamlin because he was an antagonist in that story. In this case, any kind of love triangle/rhombus/word cloud is going to be tangled and far messier because all of the characters involved are beloved. And, Feysand had 2.5 whole books to build their story - whichever of the couples I’ve just talked about that end up endgame will pretty much only have one book and second- and third-hand hints that range from fairly numerous (Elriel) to hardly developed at all. 

3. I want a love that flies in the face of the mating bond. I’m kind of over the mating bond thing. I think that I loved Feysand because Rhys and Feyre grew to love each other alongside their bond. Feyre fell in love with Rhys without knowing that she was his mate, and the mating bond was like a fulfillment of that love, that love was not really a fulfillment of the mating bond. Cassian and Nesta actually feels like a much more traditional mating bond story, in that they were deeply connected from minute one. The angst in that relationship came from Nesta’s inner turmoil and need for growth and independence to know and accept herself.

I’m ready for a bond that doesn’t work! I’m ready for some great people (who are apparently very different from a lot of previous nobility and significant figures in the courts of Prythian when it comes to respecting agency and being kind) who don’t let the cauldron dictate their lives to them. I don’t want to watch Lucien and Elain succumb to the bond, and I don’t really want Azriel to be chosen because of a mating bond with Gwyn. I want him to be chosen above a mating bond. And I want Elain to do the choosing! 

4. I want to see Elriel because I think a relationship between them would be wholly different from Feysand and Nessian - and I don’t think that’s as true with Elucien and Gwynriel. I think that Lucien is more similar to Rhys and Cassian attitude-wise than Azriel and I think that Gwyn is more similar to Feyre and Nesta attitude-wise than Elain. I want to read about a love between two people who aren’t sassy and flirty and bold. Not that I don’t LOVE those ships as well, but I like it when Sarah does something a little different. Elorcan, for example, is one of my absolute favorite ships of all-time partially because it feels totally different from everything else in Throne of Glass (albeit in a different way). 

I want to see how someone as kind and thoughtful and modest and romantic as Elain handles her intense lust and the massive potential for conflict and harm in pursuing a relationship with Azriel (and to be clear I don’t want to see her treat Lucien like trash, I want to see her use strengths that belong only to her to prevent harm that might have otherwise occurred if the bond was between Lucien and another). I want to see how someone as closed-off, controlled, cynical, and often melancholy as Azriel handles desire that contradicts his loyalties and the qualities on which he prides himself, and how he handles someone who sees him- really sees him, and just makes him un-complicatedly happy. 

5. Also, as I said,  I’m not going to get far into evidence or proof, but I do think the bread crumbs are pointing toward Elriel, and I do like to be right lol

Thank you for reading, as always I want comments and dialogue and thank you for being fans of these books with me!

[oof-big-oof]

ACOTAR and Setups Part II: Tamlin and Rhysand

SPOILERS: ACOTAR series (and Macbeth too ig)

Part 1: Feyre

In "Macbeth", Macbeth and Banquo are narrative foils to each other. While Banquo is loyal to the king and uses language of growth and imagery of nature when he speaks, the traitor Macbeth's words are full of references to destruction, fire, and unholy happenings. Foils are not just good ways to explore character traits, but also excellent for setting up conflicts and exploring the thematic concerns of the world.

I think it's safe to say Tamlin and Rhysand are foils. They have opposing imagery (spring, flowers and sun for Tamlin, winter, snow and night for Rhysand) and always stand in opposition to each other when it comes to Feyre's narrative, switching in and out of being the "bad guy" and the "good guy". But the way this is handled is .... eh.

I'm going to look at shifts in Feyre, Tamlin and Rhys that work of this foil - and try to look for when and how they were set up.

1. Feyre's shift - TW: discussions of abuse, mental health issues

In the first book, Tamlin is a source of protection and love for Feyre. But by the second book, Feyre is not only struggling with her PTSD but has begun to realise that life at the Spring Court as a dolled up accessory might not be for her. By the end of the book, she has found her place in the Night Court - by Rhysand's side. And honestly? Go girl! Go live up to your potential!

The problem arises with how this is done - that is, Sarah J Mass never does the brunt work of showing us why Feyre cares. It is plausible she is motivated by a desire to protect the human lands, but we never actually see that. There isn't a moment where she realises she needs to work for a greater good, or a moment she realises that she needs to protect those more vulnerable than her - instead, the narrative has her tolerating abuse until she finally has had enough.

Which is great. I have got to admit that I really like the explicit rejection of a happily ever after storyline for Feyre because it took away her agency. But we get this radical shift in character motivation from wanting to be protected and comfortable with those she loves to desiring agency and understanding of herself in two lines:

"The girl who had needed to be protected and who had craved stability and comfort... she had died Under the Mountain"

and

"I didn't know how to go back to those things. To being docile"

hhhhhh. I mean - if you have to say it that explicitly, you're already doing something wrong. But also, why? We never see Feyre struggling with herself in her new body, and wondering why she does not want the same things as she did when she was a human, never see an impetus point for when her desires shifted.

But honestly? I don't mind Feyre's arc. I think it's a bit confused and lacks clarity or intent, and as a result, it is harder to root for her because you don't quite know what she wants, but I think it's still quite good. Where I really have problems are with Tamlin ad Rhys.

2. Tamlin - TW: discussions of abuse, mental health issues

I am not a fan of Tamlin's arc. You could argue that it is part of the thematic message of the series: that things are not as they seem. Tamlin is the wolf to the savour to the abuser, Rhysand is the "most beautiful man " Feyre had ever seen to Amarantha's monster to Feyre's eventual mate. But - the constant twists are unnecessary, more importantly, they and have little to no foreshadowing and just seem like retcons- making it seem as if they are there to keep the audience guessing rather than genuine plot progressions. This becomes even more obvious when the series abandons its core theme of "appearance vs reality" altogether, and as a result loses a lot of its cohesion: a direct consequence of having a bad setup.

His reason for doing the abusive things he does is conveyed to us in two lines, in the same monologue that Feyre's motivation is:

"Tamlin had gotten his powers back, had become whole again - become that protector and provider he wished to be"

Sure. He was much more powerful than Feyre when they first met, so I am having a hard time buying it is the return of the powers that his making him act this way. We know that his actions come from a genuine desire to protect Feyre - this is the guy that was willing to sacrifice his life multiple times and the future of his entire court to keep her safe. The only justification we have left then for the way he acts is that his PTSD, borne out of the trauma and torture he underwent and watched Feyre undergo changed him in some way.

This is why the endless villainizing of Tamlin makes me really uncomfortable. While it is true that the abused can become the abuser, and figuring out how to help them while protecting yourself is something that absolutely needs to be discussed and explored - the way it is done with Tamlin is horrendous because he is never given a chance to heal. Instead, he is thrown from plot point to plot point, an eternal punching bag for the Inner Circle and others to seem morally superior in front of.

And his treatment of Feyre is just weird. If he's so concerned about her safety - why does he not wake up when she has nightmares? Is he instead trying to pretend like everything is okay - if so why does he give Feyre an escort of guards? If his core motivation is protecting Feyre at all costs - why does he lash out at her?? And the text really tries to tell us how to feel about him in this regard, but it doesn't do it very well. For example, take the scene where Tamlin says "There is no such thing as a High Lady". Feyre a second before expressed her desire not to take on any responsibility, and Tamlin responded with this - and the text really makes us want to hate him for it, but all you can see is a person who is perhaps not the best at reading subtext trying his best.

In conclusion - Tamlin's shift to the villain of the narrative is hamhanded and underexplained, making it hard to genuinely hate him, and further confusing the narrative.

3. Rhys the foil gets the girl - TW: discussions of abuse, sexual assault mental health issues

Rhysand in the first book is interesting - he clearly has a heart and a soft spot for Feyre but is also a schemer with dubious motives that drugs and sexually harasses Feyre. There are places in the set up where we understand he cares - but never where we can begin to see he might be a genuine paragon of virtue.

And I will address this more in my post on ACOMAF, but the point I am trying to make here is: we are told through the constantly opposing imagery that Rhys and Tamlin are wolds apart - but never actually given examples of how. Rhys is said to be different from Tamlin because he respects Feyre's choice - but he drugs her in a bunch of weird scenes (that serve no clear narrative purpose by the way - like what was he trying to achieve? why he couldn't he just let Feyre in on that part of the plan?) and withholds information from her about life-threatening situations. Rhys is said to pull less rank - but we multiple times see others defer to him, especially in later books, and never actually see rank being enforced in Tamlin's court with his treatment of Lucien (many times described as his partner, and openly questioning him) and later Ianthe. Rhys is said to have less archaic laws in opposition to Tamlin's Tithe - but he abandons the Court of Nightmares to the monsters who rule it, and never takes serious actions against the Illyrian people who clip of women's wings, and a lot of Tamlin's idea of racial superiority and general superiority just come completely out of left field in the middle of ACOMAF.

Both of them are problematic - it's just that the text tells us to root for one, without actually showing us how one is better, or setting up any clear ideological difference between them. And that cheapens Feyre's character shift and lessen the efficacy of the foil - turning it into Feyre hopping from one lover to the other with little to no character consistency and no nuanced exploration of the theme of the series or trauma.

[flowerflamestars]

Okay okay I just read your jaw dropping post about how acotar would be with Nesta Under the Mountain and now I’m curious: does Rhys meets Feyre? Cassian and Nesta’s first encounter, how does it goes like? LUCIEN AND AZRIEL SLOW BURN “STRANGERS” TO LOVERS? Nesta wouldn’t be stupid to let her sisters be kidnapped by Hybern, so how do they get changed into Fae? And DO they get changed? I’ve got a thousands questions now

OKAY YES- Nesta Under the Mountain, acomaf remix:

First, I just want to pause to highlight the chaos factor here. What happens after Amarantha and Tamlin die? Rhysand, bound by magical contract and also Dramatique, nopes out, bringing Lucien and Nesta.

And he’s a mess. It’s relief, it’s half a century of unimaginable torture. He needs a bath. He needs to lay in bed for a week before he speaks to another living person. Instead, he takes them to his moonstone palace.

Does he rest? Plan? Go find his friends who are screaming at his mental shields?

No. He gives Nesta and Lucien rooms, and proceeds to have breakfast with them while flirting with Nesta, so he can pretend everything is fine.

To say Nesta is feeling A Lot is an understatement. She has zero Tamlin murder regrets- and many, many, I came back to life and got kidnapped again regrets. She does take a bath. Washes off the blood, braids her hair, tries not to look at her freaky faery face, looks for clothes. Is unimpressed beyond measure at crop top sheer ensembles, and goes looking for Lucien.

Swathed in turquoise silks, doing that thing where he’s grinning but his eyes are flinty and just waiting for the next attack, he’s no better off. The robe in Nesta’s bathroom was a lace confection- the one in Lucien’s in quilted green silk. Nesta wears that.

Is still wearing it, when they show up to breakfast, Rhysand flirts- and because Nesta is an Archeron, she throws a teacup at his head.

(Lucien, beside her, buttering toast: yeah, that doesn’t work on her)

What really happens in acomaf? Love, trauma journey, betrayal. But Tamlin’s dead- and guess what family promptly sails back across the sea to seize power of Spring? Guess. No one is out here calling Nesta the Savior of Prythian. She’s not the mother, she’s the crone. Women love her, men fear her. She’s not the blessing, she’s the punishment.

Morrigan tracks down Rhys, and this is what she finds: 1 autumn prince, wearing a crop top and acidly explaining that he doesn’t give a single fuck if Spring burns. 1 devastating faery lady wearing nothing but a robe. Rhysand, with tea dripping from his hair.

Tears! Reunion! Nes & Luc, exit stage left faced with Emotions.

Nesta doesn’t need to learn to read- and she doesn’t need Rhysand’s fucking help, as she keeps saying, as he keeps doing nice things for her. Fuck off, she says, fixing her hair with the diamond pins that have mysteriously appeared on top of her book. Do not look at me like that, she threatens, catching him grinning at some insanely offensive thing she’s said about Beron.

Rhys likes Nesta. It’s not willing. Nesta...kind of hates Rhys still. Rhys is also still, A Mess- and Nesta just happens to be the sexy project in front of him. 

You didn’t make a deal for me to be a permanent house guest, she tells him.

Morrigan, to herself, a respectable wlw who, you know, met Nesta in a robe and learned ten seconds later she killed a High Lord as a human: PLEASE STAY FOREVER

Rhysand takes them to Velaris.

Lucien is devastated by the prosperity- Nesta goes straight for Rhysand’s throat- you protected one city? Rhysand says, one city, and four people. It’s the closest Nesta ever comes to respecting him, lasts three seconds. 

It takes one night for Nesta and Lucien to vanish. Dangerous and disconcerting for a few reasons- Prythian is singing songs of Nesta, and they’re songs of destruction. Lucien has a price on his head. 

But they’re not courting danger- they’re over the wall. Nesta knows a war is coming, knows she’s painted a target sky high on her back. She leaves letters for her sisters- she’s alive, she can’t come home, she’s sorry, she loves them, please please please be careful- and they spend ten hours straight setting wards around the slumbering Archeron manner.

With his usual sense of good timing, the next morning is when Rhysand trots out his work for me plan.

Hybern wants a war, and Nesta is a weapon. Lucien, who has been a rapid fire, info dump strength been trying to tell Nesta all the shit she needs to know now that she’s a faery, tells him to go to hell. 

Rhys feigns very much like that was uncalled for, unravels a few more layers of the I’m only bad as a ruse lifestyle before their eyes. 

Nesta more or less ignores him, but explains Lucien’s comment for them both: no fealty. No oaths. No games. No more fucking tattoos.

Rhys, eventually, repeats himself: work for me, I’ll pay you, you don’t need to belong.

Nesta demands a contract. Exact terms. Proof of salary. Tells Rhys, casually, that she killed one High Lord human and she’s perfectly willing to try for a second with immortality on her side.

Nesta and Lucien, private contractors. Nesta and Lucien, who also don’t really believe a word Rhysand says.

But then it’s time for dinner. To meet the Court- Nesta repeats Court of Dreams to Lucien with such lofty disbelief he’s still giggling to himself every few minutes when they get to the House of Wind.

A pause, a step back: Cassian. Cas lost his shit when Nesta died- Cassian felt her come back to life- Cassian, who has never met her, has no idea what that means. He’s been rattled around, feeling more than a little crazy- tense, unfocused, walking the streets of Velaris like he forgot something that can never be found- he also didn’t tell anyone.

Nesta Archeron walks into the House of Wind beside Lucien Vanserra, and everything stops.

It’s Rhysand’s stumbling, lightening struck, immediate oh-shit reaction, just on a very different balcony, with circumstance more different that Cassian allows himself to believe.

There she was. There was what he’d been looking for- there she was, taking a glass of wine out of Lucien’s hand.

There’s no personal story time at this dinner. There’s Cassian, dumbstruck, silent, staring. Azriel, whose good manners kick in and make him speak. Lucien, drinking. Nesta treating it like a business meeting and directly trying to establish what everyone’s jobs are.

(Also Nesta, meeting Amren, recognizing her name from fairytales she read trapped in Tamlin’s house: Do you really drink the blood of men?

Amren: Only very, very bad men who ask nicely.

Nesta’s nod in response took years off Cassian’s life.)

Nesta, child of every court. Nesta, who Rhysand keeps comparing to the Courts universal holy objects while she bites her tongue bloody. Locate, read, utilize, steal- Nesta wants it done now, wants to hamstring Hybern before he can set foot on their island.

But research takes time. So Nesta’s learning to be a faery- and breaking a ridiculous amount of things along the way- Lucien is hanging out in her shadow, free as he’s ever been in his entire adult like but also just waiting, waiting, for the axe to fall.

Everyone thinks they’re sleeping together- more importantly, even if they’re not, they’re In Love.

There’s no weaver in the wood moment- because frankly, Rhysand doesn’t want to risk that Nesta will somehow befriend her. Less Rhys in general, because Nesta doesn’t want to spend all that much time with him. 

Nesta is just in Velaris, waiting for the damn job to start. With Lucien. Sometimes Amren, or Morrigan. Often, extremely often, Cassian.

In canon, when they meet, Cassian is all set up to hate her- she didn’t protect her sister, she’s disloyal she’s- all of these terrible things that have to be proven untrue. That clash, that fighting shapes...basically everything.

This Nesta, he has every reason to admire, and it’s killing him. She saved Prythian- she killed a High Lord with her bare hands and knife Cassian wouldn’t want to use to cut an apple. She’s incredible.

She’s also the unfortunate, perfect receptacle for all of Cassian’s self worth issues. He can’t look away, which means she’s not looking. Of course she loves the son of a High Lord, who fought by her side- they survived together, they’re the same species.

So. He’s just going to quietly, miserably, love her forever. But he doesn’t actually talk to her- this is the only Cassian who has ever been quieter than Az- he just can’t. But he’s always there- passing messages from Rhys. Flying her to the House of Wind. Present. 

So he also ends up around when Lucien and Nesta decide to move on from magic training to physical training. 

And Cassian absolutely falls over himself asking to help. To train her. To make her stronger. To maybe, you know, punch him in the face.

The offering goes as badly as can be imagined, all the wrong words and blushing fury. Insulting. A mess.

Nesta does what Nesta does best. Asks him, you’ve trained how much of your own army? Cassians answer is halting but true- yes, yes the Legion’s are his lifes work.

And look, Nesta is mad at the implied insults to her and Lucien both. She’s also mad this asshole who clearly doesn’t want her here, doing the job she was hired to do and has made that clear with the silent treatment, is now intruding on her personal business.

She gets in his face. I’m not an Illyrian. I’m not a man. I will never be a soldier under your command and I don’t need your help.

(the vicious cultural sexism has, in fact, trickled down to Nesta’s knowledge quite easily. She doesn’t know Cassian’s back story.)

The knife sinks oh, so, fucking deep. Cassian who also, has never learned to back down, doesn’t fuck off. So he’s around, brooding and training himself, while Lucien teaches Nesta evil little tricks and how to move like lightening, to use weapons and magic as one.

Nessian keep fighting. Cassian also keeps finding every even slightly plausible excuse to be in her company-because now she’s looking at him.

So what, if she’ll never love him back? So what, if fucking Lucien Vanserra who flirts with everything that moves somehow earned her loyalty? Cassian is never-will never- judge or undermine her choices. Never.

He just wants to be around. To speak to her every day. So what, if the angst is burning him alive?

Interlude: the Summer Court. Rhys and Nesta go alone. 

Nesta likes Tarquin. Tarquin...is kind of more afraid of Nesta than Rhys. There’s no flirty montage, Nesta goes to hang out with Cresseida. Knows her for about a day, comes to understanding that Cresseida was the one who held Summer together under Amarantha.

Nesta tells Cresseida everything. Hybern’s coming back, they’re already making plays. They want the Cauldron, but control can be stolen with the Book. Rhysand thinks I can read it- all I want is Hybern dead.

It is, in the end, compelling. Helped along by the fact Nesta peppers in that Rhys isn’t going to ask.

There’s a fight, a battle, conditions: in the end Tarquin gives the book to Nesta. Only Nesta. For Rhys, this still works- for the Summer Court, the distinction is important. Nesta Archeron, Cauldron-blessed, the Sword of Prythian, will wield the book.

Not the blessing, the punishment.

Rhys says something very Rhys, and Nesta leaves. They’re winnowing to the same place, she can now, it doesn’t matter- but what matters is this: Nesta goes back to the House of Wind, and runs into Cassian.

She’s just carrying half the book- like that isn’t an insane, miraculous thing, and Cassian congratulates her, without saying anything stupid. 

But then Nesta sprawls down in a window seat, and starts looking at the book.

(Cassian is GOING THROUGH IT. he thought being around her was bad? Knowing she’s in another court where he can’t make sure she’s safe or okay or not having a bad day made him LOSE HIS MIND)

Which is fully what he blames for the fact that Cassian also, does not leave. Crosses his arms. Leans in the doorway like it doesn’t matter. Asks, like a moron, why Nesta isn’t looking for Lucien.

(Cassian to Cassian: SHE WAS GONE DAYS- SHE COULD HAVE BEEN HURT? WHERE IS THE CARE? THE CONCERN? THE- LUCIEN WAS AT A BAR WITH AZRIEL LAST NIGHT)

Nesta: No, I’ll see him later.

Cassian: Reunions...are important. The war is going to come faster than any of us think.

Nesta: I know?? that’s why I just spent a week in fucking sand- I’m doing my job-

Cassian: We all have so little time-

Nesta: You think I don’t know that??

Cassian: I just. I don’t understand- you have options. You have the entire world. You are the entire world, and you deserve-

Nesta: What. Exactly. Do you think I deserve?

Cassian, miserably ferocious: someone waiting when you come home. from battle. from stupid shit Rhys makes you do. You deserve everything.

Nesta, rising from the window seat, walking across the room: You’re here.

Cassian:

Nesta, rolling her eyes as she sweeps past and away: You. Were here. When I got back.

I’m going to cut this here and then post a part two! Thank you so much for asking, stay tuned :)

[ratabrasileira]

The Fox of the Night

Chapter Three

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | ....

He was crazy.

When he felt Rhys’ cum leak to his throat and his mouth the reality hit Lucien back. He had sucked the High Lord of the Night Court in a balcony where anyone could see them and listen to the obscene sounds that were coming from both.

But damn, Rhysand’s cock was divine. And sucking it in a public place was integrating; every time things got too loud the thrill of doing something wrong excited Lucien so much that he almost came with the thought of it.

For Rhysand it wasn’t any different, but to be sucked by the courtier of the Spring Court… If Tamlin discovered that his servant was crazy for him since Lucien was a little one. A dark laugh escaped Rhys; if Lucien wasn’t going to work for him, may he do others things then.

“You like my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” Rhysand grabbed Lucien’s face when the one got to his feet.

“Probably not only there” Lucien answer, trying to smile under the pressure of Rhys’ fingers. He wanted to go back to the ball, he was starting to get nervous; what if someone saw them? What if Tamlin discover. Lucien knew the reputation of Rhys’; he would probably be called as his whore and face to live exiled in the Night Court where all the nightmares become true. But those eyes burning him…

Lucien saw Rhys’ pupils dilatating and knew what was coming. But before Rhysand could lock him in the wall again, Lucien pushed the High Lord and headed for where the ball was happening. He didn’t turn his face to smile at Rhys neither look at him. He couldn’t let things go in that way and he had a lot of good reasons. First; he hadn’t had sex with anyone since her. How could he? With Rhys there in the balcony he knew it was just a distraction, experiment, light and rough to let go things from the very past, experiment that was already tasted… Lucien shook his head, he would think about that later.

Second; Tamlin. Rhysand was enemy number one of Tamlin and if it’s so, Lucien was supposed to hate Rhysand too, even if what he feels about the High Lord is lust and not hate or disgust. Third; his mother warned him about Rhysand, Lucien could remember that clearly, his mother saying to be careful and don’t mess with the High Lords; they are dangerous, they are power, Rhys the most. Lucien asked himself what would she say with everything that are happening.

***

Rhysand was there, alone in the balcony where he was exceptionally sucked by Lucien. If he closes his eyes, he could still feel the warm of Lucien’s mouth around his dick, his tongue licking the top of it… But what threatening to kill Rhys was “Probably not only there” and the mess of red hair leaving without looking back. It let Rhys speechless, gaping at where Lucien’d left and making him wanting more. So much more.

Rhysand asked himself what other things that mouth could do and say.

But he couldn’t get distracted like this, even if Lucien had fulfilled part of his imagination. Of course, the main reason that Rhys want him is because he would be great in the Night Court. He would fit there, at least more than the Spring Court and would take some things off Rhys’ shoulders.

But if Lucien wants Rhys to get to his knees before him, he wouldn’t deny it.

Rhysand shook his head, trying to take off all the thoughts and emotion, and headed to where the ball was happening. The Winter Palace was gorgeous; the ballroom was an open place with garlands of frozen leaves hanging in the ceiling, a statue made of ice symbolizing the Winter Court’s emblem and a table full of the typical food of winter. Even if the atmosphere seemed to be cold, the room was warm by magic.

Rhys localized Azriel and Cassian leaning against a wall looking like they would kill anyone who dared to approach. Seeing both like that made something light inside Rhys. What would people say if they knew how both were in Velaris?

“Where were you?” Azriel asked when Rhys got close to them.

“Wait” Cassian said before Rhys could say something. His general sniffed the air around them and then smirked at him. “You were fucking, weren’t you?” Azriel in Cassian’s side laughed quietly, they both looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“No” Rhys lied, he wouldn’t tell about Lucien like a teenager who had just had sex in the first time and wanted to share the experience. Sometimes it wondered Rhysand how they could act like a teenager, not only them, but himself too.

“Liar” Azriel said, his voice carrying humor. Rhys had to roll his eyes.

“C’mon, it was with Helion? I didn’t see him in a good time and… Oh, look who is there!” Cassian pointed to the crowd where Helion was talking with someone of his court, in the other side of the room.

“Helion? I thought you were done with I-don’t-know-what you used to have”

Rhysand only looked flatly to their malicious face, not daring to answer. He ignored both and leant against the wall too, a form of a smile surging in his face before he said.

“It was boring here, I had to do something.”

***

Lucien couldn’t sleep that night. What had happened in the balcony was… A huge mess of feelings. He liked it. He liked it so bad and wanted so much more, but he couldn’t. And letting the most dangerous and powerful High Lord with his dick leaking through his own pants in a public space in another court. Fuck, it was so exciting. More, he could not stop thinking what other things Rhys could do so well as to fuck Lucien’s mouth. What could he do with his hands, his tongue, his cock…

Lucien fluffed the pillows; the bed was so discomforting. He knew he couldn’t sleep, even more with his cock hard between his body and the sheets. But hell no, he wouldn’t masturbate thinking about him. He got to his feet, maybe a night walk could cool his head. He putted the red robe that was laid in the headboard and headed for the gardens of spring time. The night was beautiful as always.

Perhaps, if he starts to think the bad things about Rhys, he would calm down his feelings. Yes, it is better to think how ridiculous Rhysand is with that sexy smile of his and that stupid swager that was the most hateful thing in the world. Also, he’s dangerous, morality dubious, why the hell would Lucien want to relate with someone like him? And the way he reprimed his moans or how he dirty talked to Lucien…

It wasn’t working. He couldn’t understand this, the last time he felt something like that with someone…

He stopped his thoughts; he could not think about her. Worse, how could he violate her memory with Rhysand? With that in mind, it was easier for Lucien to develop negative feelings for the High Lord. He had to stop his desire, even if it was only a distraction for him, it would ruin all the remnants of Jesminda. Lucien could not let it happen, not at all.

He went back to his bed and sleep came as easy as the waterfall. In that night, he dreamed with Jesminda, she was beautiful; that bright smile printed in her pretty face shone in Lucien’s dream. But the smile was gone as a hand grabbed her by the neck and pressed a knife there. Lucien tried to move, tried to stop it. He couldn’t endurance it, her screams, the laughs, he just wanted that to stop, he just wanted to find a home with her.

But then, Lucien saw Rhysand. It was him who were grabbing Jesminda’s neck and pressing a sharp knife there. That stupid smile of his as always was in his face and it just had left when he cut the female’s throat. It was a precise move and for a moment, Lucien thought that he hadn’t beheaded her, until he saw her head on the floor, blood flooding everywhere.

When Lucien woke up in that morning, full of cold sweat, he wished to never see the High Lord’s face again, even if it was only a dream.

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (20/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: The High Lords go to battle against the Autumn Court. You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

The army from the Spring Court is small but Tamlin makes sure to greet and thank each warrior lined up in front of his estate, the same enthusiasm for the lower faeries as he gives to the members of the nobility who have arrived from their country estates. Tomorrow, at the Autumn Court, any of them could die. He does not want to forget a single name or face, and he wants them to know he’s seen each of their faces.

He used to shield himself from most of his army as a guard against the inevitable loss. It was easier, his father always said, to craft a winning stratagem when the general thought more about the victory than the ensuing loss of life. But more and more, Tamlin is feeling his father’s perspective unravel inside of his mind. He feels unmoored but also, sometimes, unbound in an entirely new way.

Anyway, he cannot quite believe that anybody answered his summons. Even after the months spent visiting the villages throughout the Spring Court, listening and commiserating and offering solutions, the humbling visits to the estates of his nobility, Tamlin thought they hated him. Although Lucien and Elain and Vassa had all helped him with the wording of his pleading summons, he expected that a request for an army of volunteers would go unanswered, that the lands around his estate would be empty save for the flowers. When warriors, males and females and those who see themselves in other ways, began to arrive at the Spring Court, he could barely manage to keep his composure, to restrain the tears that threatened to spill alongside strangled shouts of relief and joy. All he’d known in his life was leading warriors, and he had fully expected to never have that sense of purpose again, that he would fight alone until some stronger enemy claimed him.

So he has made his plans and preparations in a state of urgency and gratefulness which seems both old and new to him, interrupted only by meals and Elain, pulling him into another world for an hour, food unlike any he’s tasted, languages he’s never heard, and kisses that quench and also leave him wanting her so deeply he practically gasps with need. She is helping Lucien with diplomatic work and with the understanding of Koschei’s magic and spells, but in other worlds, neither of them speaks much of their work. They share little secrets and amusements and compliments. He tells her everything he would want her to know if he were to die in this battle. For so long, Tamlin had never thought about the possibility of death, and when it finally occurred to him, he wanted it to claim him. Now, for the first time in all the long years of his life, he both acknowledges the possibility of death and wants dearly to avoid it.

Throughout the morning, the army completes its drills. First, they go through the physical motions: the basic weaponry and the formations which, thankfully, they have not forgotten since the war with Hybern, some from wars that took place centuries before. Then, there are the drills in magic, determining the gifts of the army and how they might be used.

Finally, as the sun falls toward the horizon, he shows his commanders the formations, and within minutes, he sees a small army lined up neatly behind him, each flank poised and ready, on horse and on foot, their weapons poised to strike.

They all look to him, in the front of their group, and Tamlin tries to meet the gaze of each person, even as he knows that’s impossible with even this small army, the thousand volunteer warriors from across the Spring Court.

Behind him, he hears the doors of the estate open, and even before her sweet scent reaches him, Tamlin knows Elain is watching. He clears his throat, focuses only on what he had planned to say, well before he knew she would hear.

“Tomorrow we will march on the Autumn Court,” he says, magic amplifying his voice to a confident boom, “and I suspect you may wonder why I have summoned you to this battle. You may think that the determination of a ruler in another court will not affect you. But in that, you will be wrong. The males who want to seize rule of the Autumn Court seek to ally with a powerful death-lord on the continent. That creature seeks to seize friends of our own court to fuel his own wicked ends. If captured, he will use them in order to rule this world and every other. Tomorrow, you do not only fight for Eris Vanserra to take the High Lord’s throne in the Autumn Court. You fight for the saving of our world, and I thank you for your courage.”

When he takes a breath, the rapt silence stretches on, and Tamlin realizes that this was when he used to feel most comfortable, leading his war band. When he knew every face and believed that he and all his company would gladly die in order that the others would survive. He’s not sure when he lost that perspective, but now he takes a moment and searches each face, engraving it in his mind.

“My cook and his staff have been working for days to prepare a feast for you, but before you go inside to eat, I want to thank you sincerely for your bravery and courage. For the kindness you are showing to the people of this world. I hope that your bravery will be remembered in legend and in song. As long as I live, I will celebrate you.”

The clapping begins near the doors of his estate, and sweeps across to his warriors, his army, who clap and shout their support until at last Tamlin cannot contain the tears that fall down his cheeks.

As their applause dies down, Elain’s voice sounds in his head, remind them that there is dessert in the gardens!

Tell them at dinner yourself, emissary, he tells her, by magic or pure will, before turning and drinking her in. She’s wearing a dress the color of new grass in the sunshine, fastened at her waist with a slim pink belt, her bare shoulders luminous as the moon in the twilight. When she meets his gaze, her brown eyes are warm and intoxicating as whisky, and the thought of the battle, the possibility of losing her, is enough to crush the air from his lungs.

“How was training?” she asks, as soon as he reaches the doors. Lucien has joined her, his eyes fixed on the horizon for Vassa, but Tamlin knows he’s listening.

“They’re ready,” he tells them both.

“And if Koschei is at the Autumn Court?” The question is familiar, one she’s asked him every day since a battle became inevitable.

“I’m prepared to hold the shield until they can all be winnowed away.”

“I’ll come for you,” Elain says, as she always does.

“You’ll be needed for the saving of this world,” he tells her, the answer that he means more every time he says it. He reaches out for her fingers, clutches them tightly in both his hands, brings them to his lips. “You’ll stay with Lucien and Vassa and ensure there is peace. That there will be some beauty after all this war.”

Her sigh is laced with tears, and beside her Lucien groans.

“Will you two be like this until he leaves? Because if so, I will need to change my seat at dinner.”

“You will be flirting outrageously with Vassa the minute any of the Spring Court commanders so much as looks at her appreciatively,” Elain says as she twines her fingers in Tamlin’s and walks into the estate, he and Lucien following in her footsteps.

No one, now or when she arrives at the feast an hour later, remarks on Vassa’s changed appearance. The Queen of Scythia has always been slender, but she has lost weight since Koschei captured her, and since her return, her golden brown skin has grown pale, deep purple hollows forming under her blue eyes. Lucien has tried to conceal his alarm, but Tamlin knows that these changes drive him to spend every daytime moment negotiating an alliance against Koschei, studying his magic and the makings of the curse that binds Vassa tighter than ever.

Still, she makes herself as merry as anybody, asking the nobles questions about wars known to her only in history and myth, trading stories about the battle with Hybern, explaining that yes, she was a firebird all day today, and no, she does not particularly recommend the experience, although she wishes that everyone could see Elain’s garden through the firebird’s eyes, because there is nothing more beautiful in this world.

When Tamlin looks to Elain, he sees the tears in her eyes, and grips her hand below the table.

“How early are you leaving?” she asks, her finger rising to the edge of his sleeve, dipping beneath the fabric.

“Hours before sunrise,” he says. If he could winnow his warriors, they could leave later, but they will ride hard to the Autumn Court in the hours before the battle, replenishing the horses with magic. “After touring your gardens, this army will sleep.”

“No detours?” Her thumb reaches the inside of his arm, the skin that, despite all his training, has remained relatively soft. He manages to contain the sound of all his wanting.

“When I return safe to you,” he says, “you can take me to whatever world you like.”

He knows there is still shame inside her at the notion of their pairing, which explains why she only kisses him in other worlds, why their exchanges in this one are furtive and laced with double entendres.

“You should talk to your warriors,” she tells him, though she still holds him, their hands hidden by the table linens.

“Come with me, emissary,” he says, knowing the invitation is a test.

Still, though Elain drops his hand, she follows him down the line of the table, repeating the name of each warrior and thanking them for their service, asking about their experience and talents, listening deeply to their answers, to Tamlin’s own questions and stories.

They work their way down the table, and then she circles back to Vassa and Lucien, hovering over the human queen but coaxing a smile to her lips, a laugh from Lucien. After a few seconds, Elain looks up and meets Tamlin’s eye, and he watches her smile widen, her eyes grow bright.

As he leads his army into the garden, to the cakes and sorbets that Cook insisted were perfect for a spring evening, Tamlin thinks about that tableau, the golden circle the three of them made. He’s always found himself outside such circles, separated from his brothers by the power he had to keep hidden, from the Spring Court nobles by his own unease, his people and the other High Lords and practically everyone in Prythian seeming far beyond his grip.

But Elain’s look was an open door into another world, unlike the one he’s always known.

Tamlin spends the next hour talking to the warriors, focusing on the beings of more humble origins. Lucien had made the recommendation, pointing out that Melis was a lesser faerie, the advantage the lowerborn have in numbers alone. As he speaks to the faeries of every height and skintone and magic, he’s surprised by how easily the conversations flow, how eager the other fae are to speak with him, especially when he begins asking questions, listening the way Elain does, nodding and chuckling and meeting dozens of unfamiliar eyes.

He’s just served himself a slice of chocolate cake when he meets a pair of eyes he’d never seen. Not because he does not know this male, but because he would never meet Tamlin’s gaze before.

“I didn’t think you would ever join the army, Ilya,” he says, clapping the village blacksmith on the back.

“There’s never been a volunteer army in this court,” Ilya responds, nodding his head. “At least not for the last thousand years. I want to be able to say I was part of the first that anyone can remember.”

“I’m grateful.”

“You’ve changed, High Lord.” Ilya darts a glance at Elain, who is listening intently to another villager who is explaining the medicinal properties of forest plants. “You’ll pardon my asking, but does it have anything to do with the lady at your side?”

“Elain Archeron is serving as emissary of this court,” he says, and then, because he is so grateful for the ways that this conversation is unlike their first, “and she, just as much as you, deserves for it to be a place where everyone is treated decently. I am sorry I have never provided you with such a home.”

“You’re the first person in my memory who has tried, at any rate.”

Tamlin presses his hand over his own heart and bows. There’s nothing he can say, not against the knot in his throat. Ilya gives him a smile and a nod and goes to join a knot of villagers, and Tamlin walks in the direction of the woods, intending to eat the cake and collect himself.

He’s barely made it to the trees before he detects Elain’s scent.

“You’re not going to prowl the forest all night, are you?” The question is light but somehow the words are not a jest. Though perhaps it is the conversation he just left, the weight of the day to come.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling her fragrance of peonies and rose and berries, a perfect morning in the thick of spring.

“Do you believe I’ve changed?” he asks her. He does not look at her, only hears her footsteps against the fallen leaves, the sigh of her skirts.

“I want to believe that you are different now. That you’re better than the person who allied with Hybern and tormented my sister. But part of me wonders if I’m imagining everything because of what I feel towards you.”

As she speaks, the darkness of the evening seems to grow even dimmer. He has felt the world shift inside him, as if he sees everything with the eyes of Vassa’s firebird. And to be seen by her as more or less the same, capable of destroying her, is a blow graver than any he’s suffered in battle.

“You think the mating bond has blinded you.” He cannot bring himself to phrase it as a question.

“I wish I could have chosen you on my own,” she says, and she’s reached out to him, her fingers on his elbow, now on his chest, her skirts swishing against the tips of his boots. “I wish I could have known for certain that this is what I want, not some ancient magic that says our children would be powerful.”

He wants to draw her toward him, flush against his body, at the mention of children, the idea of a future with her, but instead he only presses his hand over hers, holds it against his thumping heart.

“I am so afraid that you will be hurt tomorrow,” she says, stepping closer to him, her body curled up against him, warm and sweet and soft. “I do not want you to think that -- that I feel nothing towards you. It’s only…”

“That I’ve been a monster.”

“And I’ve been a stupid child all my life. I think that you are different now, Tamlin. It’s only that I want you to be good so badly, because then I wouldn’t have to be guilty about my feelings. I could just...”

Once again she doesn’t complete the thought, only twines her fingers in his hair, strokes the back of his neck, and finally he crushes her in his arms so that her feet leave the ground entirely.

“I will come back to you tomorrow,” he says. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“I wish--” she starts, and this time he kisses her. Her lips taste like chocolate, and she opens her mouth to his with a little moan that unravels him. But tomorrow he will rise before the dawn and lead his army into battle, so Tamlin forces himself to set Elain on her own two feet, tries to tame the desire on his features to an acceptable facade.

“We’ll have time,” he says, and then, hand in hand, he walks with her, out of the forest and into the Spring Court.

&

&

&

When the sun rises over the Spring Court army, they’ve already ridden for hours in near silence. By midmorning, they are to meet the rest of Prythian’s armies at the Autumn Court, and the group is making better time than Tamlin had expected, riding swiftly enough that, at the borders of his lands, he allows them a short respite, during which he seeks out his most trusted commanders, who fought with him in the war bands, and reviews the battle plan.

He did not tell Elain the truth when she asked him for his strategy. He will not shield his court from the front lines of the battle.

The Summer Court has volunteered to shield the assembled army. Tamlin and Rhys had realized, on their mission against Koschei, that water magic would prevail the longest against the fire of the Autumn Court. Feyre has worked with Tarquin and Varian over the past week, according to the reports from the Night Court, and they have not only developed new shielding techniques but methods for attack, fearsome creatures animated by spellwork and will. The Spring Court commanders who can hold a shield will do so if the Autumn Court breaks through, but meanwhile Tamlin will be inside the keep itself with Helion, rescuing Cybele from the tyranny of her sons, or else fighting her until she yields. Helion has given no sign that he knows the Lady of Autumn’s allegiance, or even, since neither of them can winnow, how they will enter the keep, only winked and assured Tamlin he was on the winning team for once. The gesture made him think of Lucien, the swagger his friend sometimes allows to shine through. But entering the keep is riskier than remaining outside it. They have gathered no intelligence on what has happened at the Autumn Court since the day of Beron’s death, the last time anyone else in Prythian was able to get inside. If Koschei awaits, or High Fae from the continent, Tamlin knows that mere hours could separate him from his death.

Still, he rides onwards through the Autumn Court, the trees the color of earnest flames, and finally, Tamlin lets himself think of Elain, her warm gaze and the mind that whirls behind it, her sweet mouth and the way the words she speaks could form their own perfect world. The magic in her, bright as a new star. He wishes he could have left her being confident of her love, but at least he is certain of what she can create on her own.

As they draw near to the keep, Tamlin lays a thick glamour over the army, shielding them from the eyes and ears of the Vanserra brothers. The hoofs of the horses are muffled even to his own ears.

Nearly there?

The sound of Rhysand’s voice in his mind is like a thousand biting insects, but Tamlin does not push him out. Instead, he allows Rhys access to his vision.

You’ll be there in ten minutes. We’ll be ready. Drop the glamour as soon as you’re in range of the keep.

He waits until all trace of Rhysand is gone to feel, just for a moment, his frustration at being commanded. Then he surrenders himself to the killing calm.

When he reaches the wall of flames, he drops the glamour, and for a moment, the field of battle is empty aside from the Spring Court force.

He is sure, then, that he’s been abandoned by the rest of Prythian, is grateful when he feels the shield form behind him, that his people will be safe enough to begin their retreat. He’s glad that Elain is far, far away.

Then the wall of water springs up a few inches in front of his horse, and the great white bears of the Winter Court appear, and the sky is full of Illyrians, their siphons flashing.

You thought we’d leave you to die? Rhysand is laughing into his mind, and Tamlin cranes his neck, looking for the overgrown bat.

I probably deserve it, he thinks.

Now, now, Rhysand drawls, you still have work to do.

So do you, Tamlin fires back, now looking for Helion, who strides through the lines as if this is merely a training exercise. As soon as he spots Tamlin, the world dissolves and Tamlin stumbles into what looks like the interior passageways of the Autumn Court keep, dark stone hallways lit by torches. Helion is implacable as he was on the battlefield, calmly studying his surroundings, his armlet glinting even in the dim light.

“I didn’t think you could winnow,” Tamlin mutters as he reaches for his sword.

“There are always ways around any limitation if you’re creative enough,” Helion says, flashing a smile that leaves no doubt of his self-estimation. “I believe the lady is being kept in this corridor.”

“How have you been able to track this court?” he asks in his lowest tone as he follows, unable to contain his curiosity. In his beast form, he could scent Lady Cybele, but he and Helion had agreed to remain in their High Fae forms, for any subtler magic and diplomacy required. Yet Helion walks down the dark hallway without a sound, without so much as a sideways glance to confirm that he’s moving in the correct direction. Perhaps all these years later, he is still besotted with Cybele. Perhaps he thinks this will be a romantic rescue.

“They call me Spellcleaver with good reason.”

The door opens before Helion touches it, and at first Tamlin thinks that the High Lord of Day has opened it with his magic, one more flourish, but Helion whips his head toward him, his braids flying with the motion.

Inside the room, the Lady of Autumn sits on a plush armchair surrounded by a hundred threads of fire, caging her so that she cannot make the smallest movement.

“Come to find your lover?”

The voice is a cruel distortion of Lucien’s, and in a flash, Tamlin’s sword is at Ealars’ throat.

“I wish I was surprised to see you make your mother a prisoner in her own court,” he says, debating whether to take off Ealars’ head or merely incapacitate him. Meanwhile, Helion works frantically at the spells that control the cage.

The room fills with heat, diffusing from the flaming chains. The glow illuminates Ealars’ grin.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just give them up,” Ealars says, and then the magic surrounds Tamlin, that spiky potent power that does not belong in this world. Not wholly Autumn Court magic, but Koschei’s, too, multiplying Ealars’ power so that it rivals a High Lord’s.

Tamlin slams his shield in place, covering Helion and Cybele. His sword clangs to the ground, thrown by the force of his own magic. Tamlin reaches for the sword he’d strapped across his back, palms a dagger in his other hand.

“He was trying to bind you,” Helion says, his fingers working around the bindings as if he’s trying to assess their width and tension.

“And here I thought you would need to concentrate on your task.” Tamlin doesn’t want to think about the implications of being bound by Koschei’s magic.

“I’ve reached the level of brilliance which allows for multitasking.” And, perfectly timed with his self-praise, Helion reaches into the strings of fire and bends them. There’s no hint of pain on his face, no arrogance in his gaze that’s focused only on Cybele’s pale face, only a recognition, as if to say finally. Her russet eyes are bright as she looks up at him. Tamlin has always known the Lady of Autumn to be shy and retreating, but there’s no hesitation in her bold look, only certainty, a claiming.

Once the flames have parted enough to allow the movement, Helion rests his thumb on her cheek, studies her face as if he means to memorize each feature. Though the caging spell still partially binds her, neither of them makes the slightest motion apart from the other.

Tamlin is about to clear his throat, remind them that they are in the middle of a battle, when the room goes dark and a new power batters his shield.

“Trust Rhys to make a grand entrance,” Helion says without so much as raising his eyes, only lifting the chains of fire aside like a curtain and holding out his other hand for Cybele to step through.

The High Lord of Night had been tasked with offering the remaining Vanserra brothers the opportunity for retreat, or ending their lives. Apparently he’d made quick work of the rest of Lucien’s family.

Outside the shield, the mixture of fire and Koschei’s magic battle the dark expanse of Rhysand’s power and for once, Rhysand isn’t the clear victor. Koschei’s power seems to eat away at his magic, absorbing it to grow stronger.

“Can you get yourself out of here?” he asks Helion, who has joined in the analysis of the skirmish outside their shield, the Lady of Autumn tucked in to his side. “There’s something wrong with this magic.”

“This isn’t Ealars’ power,'' Cybele says, her voice hoarse from disuse or abuse or some awful combination. “It was the price of his allegiance.”

“Did all of your sons ally with Koschei?” Tamlin asks, watching Helion wince at the oversight but waiting, one eye on Rhys, for Cybele’s response.

“The three in this keep. The day after their father died. Koschei said it was more power than any of the High Lords possesses on their own.”

“Then we will need a stratagem to escape,” Helion says, eyeing Rhysand, whose tan face has gone pale, the darkness of his magic now translucent.

“I’m faster with a sword than Ealars.” Tamlin tries to summon belief in this statement, tries not to think of Vassa, the shell that remains of her every night. “I can hold him at bay until the rest of you escape.”

Because his mother is there, Tamlin does not say, until I kill your son, even though that is his plan. Still, Cybele goes from pale to ghostly as she realizes his unstated implications.

“And how will you get out?” Helion asks, reaching out his hand. Though Tamlin will refuse it, this offer for escape, he is grateful. That, if this is the end for him, it didn’t happen when he was useless and raging, alone in the forests of the Spring Court. That someone would want to rescue him.

He shakes his head, finds himself somehow grinning.

“People tend to run from the beast. Just get her out, Helion.”

Helion nods.

Tamlin drops the shield. Instantly, Cybele and Helion vanish, and Koschei’s power spears toward Tamlin.

He dodges the blow and runs with his sword instead of his magic, throwing up a small shield as he runs toward Ealars. Lately he has found success in a stealthy approach but now he roars out his battle cry, so that, for just a second, the fire mixed with otherworldly magic wanes, and Rhys’ magic rises in the room.

Within seconds, night is a slender cord around Ealars’ neck.

Tamlin vaults toward the gasping male, trying to dodge the bolts of spiky magic that Ealars flings around the room. He is so close, he needs only to take one more step.

He hardly has time to see or hear the magic, let alone react, when his left side explodes with pain, as if his own flesh is consuming itself.

Still, Tamlin digs in deep to all his warrior’s training. He reaches out with his sword, one heaving slash of the blade and then another, until there is a thump and the room descends into a ringing silence.

Strange, that he cannot see Ealars fall. That the head that fell from his body already seems a long-past memory, the blood trailing his neck, his face frozen in an expression of horror, Ealars’ last look at the world. It all goes gray and distant.

There is only the pain in his side, but even that pain has receded now, a scream in the distance.

He opens his eyes and Rhysand stands over him, and even in the haze of ringing gray ache, Tamlin knows that Rhys’ smile is forced.

“Elain is going to kill me if you don’t survive this,” he says, and then, for Tamlin at least, the world goes empty, dark, and roaring.

[withclawandvine]

ACOTAR ships as Taylor Swift songs 🖤

i realized don’t really interact with anyone on here, and i wanna change that! i saw this post by @halaberdara and i wanted to give it a try! i did one for all of the main ships (despite my personal biases lol) so everyone feels welcome to interact! 

so yeah if you love fictional relationships and taylor swift as much as i do, come chat with me about it xx 

feysand || call it what you want 

this song couldn’t be more perfect. feyre definitely goes through her rep era—completely ghosting the spring court (as she should 😌), finding herself and a lasting love that didn’t have to save her, but supported her as she saved herself, and loves her like she’s brand new. and of course the lyric yeah, you know i did one thing right: starry eyes sparking up my darkest night    

honorable mention: untouchable 

nessian || peace 

this song hurts and so do they. a really big part of nesta’s arc was realizing she was worthy of cassian’s love. admittedly, taylor seems to be singing about external forces threatening her love, rather than nesta’s internal struggles, but it still fits. i'm a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm​​—nesta and her silver flames, the ones feyre painted for her. i think the line, it’s like i’m wasting your honor is so similar to nesta telling cass that he is “everything i have never been, and will never be good enough for. your friends know it, and i have carried it around with me all this time—i do not deserve you.” but she goes on to fight so hard to change that, even though cassian never believed it in the first place 

honorable mention: cruel summer

elriel || ivy  

i could probably write a five page essay about how quintessentially them this song is. but i’ll spare y’all and just say that both are about forbidden love, full of yearning and quiet intensity. the descriptions of the lover fit azriel like a glove: i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed and your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand. the imagery of her love growing and covering her (the ‘gentle flower grower’ herself) like ivy. not to mention lucien’s ability to literally burn the metaphorical house to the ground 

honorable mention: wildest dreams

elucien || willow  

look. i know daylight is the more obvious choice, but hear me out: the whole life was a willow and it bent right to your wind gives off the whole fated to meet, cosmic intervention vibe of a mating bond. and if elain chooses to give it a chance, she’d be begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans ‘cause that’s elain’s whole thing, right? her whole life plan got disrupted when she was made. i also think the line wherever you stray, i follow is very sweet, since lucien has always been a bit of a vagabond. and i mean… look me in my eyes and tell me they count me out time and time again wasn’t written about elain. oh wait you can’t 

honorable mention: daylight 

gwynriel || king of my heart   

the opening lines makes me think of gwyn and her life in the library, and your love is a secret i’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep reminds me of what azriel thought about gwyn’s smile being “a thing of secret, lovely beauty.”  but i think what really does it for me is the bridge! everything from the fact that their big scene together was up on the roof (late in the night while the city was asleep, i may add) to the idea of az being part of gwyn’s healing journey (and vice versa)

honorable mention: state of grace

and hey, even feylin 🤢 gets one || wonderland 

the flashing green eyes, love that’s doomed from the start, you get it. wonderland is a metaphor for the relationship, but it can also be taken more literally. instead of alice falling into wonderland, it’s feyre’s fall into prythian. and how tamlin was right there with her. and the bridge just perfectly summarizes their end: i reached for you, but you were gone. i knew i had to go back home. you searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had. and in the end, in wonderland, we both went mad.

had to include some honorable mentions to prove i have some Range and listen to more than rep and evermore haha

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 

Chapter 5

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

 She was in his arms when he woke the next morning. The storm had passed, leaving nothing more than a light condensation on the windows of his bedroom. The light was distorted as it came through the window, hitting Lyriel almost perfectly. She was asleep, perhaps for the first time since she had come to the Spring Court. Her brow was smoothed, her fingers clenching around the blankets as though they were a hilt of some sort.

        Tamlin's heart ached as he took in the gentle slope of her nose. He tried not to focus on her lips and the gentle way they were parted, her breath coming out in the softest snores. Mother above he did not need this.

        Slowly, he untangled himself from her. He did not know when he had begun holding her. Perhaps sometime after the storm had passed. He wished he knew. He wished he could remember how it had felt to first wrap his arms around her. At least then he would have that memory. He would have been able to think on it when she eventually found someone better.

        Even if he kept her in the Spring Court, he was certain she would find someone else. Someone who would spar with her, who would laugh with her, who would give up a mating bond for her. She deserved that. Even if he would want to kill whoever tried to get close to her.

        It wasn't fair. He knew it. He knew that he was holding her to a different standard. There was no excuse for it. Maybe if he was a better man there would be. Yet, he was anything but a better man. It seemed as though the whole world was right about one thing. Tamlin was a bastard. A brute. Someone who would trap their mate and marry another woman

        Wouldn't his father be proud?

        The thought made him sick. He had to shove it down, shove everything down as far as he could as he began to ready himself for the day ahead. He did it as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Lyriel. She needed more sleep. He didn't know if she would take it well should he actually tell her that.

        From what he knew, Lyriel didn't take most things well. At least if they came from him. He had no idea how she reacted around other people. Maybe he just antagonized her. Or it was her way of fighting back against the bond that neither of them truly wanted.

        She shifted, a soft grunt escaping her. A shiver went through him at the sound. 

        Mother save him. He knew that he should just leave her there. That he should not think of what other sounds might come from her throat. How he could make them. 

        Tamlin quickly finished strapping on his bandolier before he slipped from the room. He willed himself to not return to that bed. To stay as far from her as he could. He worried that her scent would be all over him. Worried that Feyre would be able to scent it. It had been a mistake. But not one that he could find himself regretting.

        This whole thing was a mess. One that Tamlin had never foreseen. He had always assumed that he would never find his mate. He had thought the Mother would be cruel in letting him go his entire life without that bond. He had gotten over it. 

        It seemed that she was cruel in another way. 

        Tamlin huffed softly as he shoved open the door to his office. He hated to hide himself away, but it was the only thing he could do. After Amarantha had been dealt with, his lands had cleared of the beasts roaming them. Now, he was focusing more on rebuilding villages and his lords' lands. 

        Occasionally, he would find something prowling. It was easily dealt with most of the time. That or he would have to go and deal with one of his lords. They had been more of a nuisance than he had ever imagined. He had assumed they would be supportive, especially after the hell they'd been through for forty-nine years. Yet, it appeared as though all of them wished to see him fail.

        Tamlin did not have many supporters.

        "I was wondering when you'd show up," Ianthe stated as she looked over at him. She was sat in front of his desk, a languid smile on her face as she took in the room. "I hope you slept for once. The Spring Court needs you at your best."

        He hid his irritation as best he could. He hated to show Ianthe when he was displeased with her. He wouldn't risk losing his High Priestess. Not when the Spring Court needed her now more than ever. Yet, it did feel far too early in the morning to be dealing with her and her schemes.

        "Good morning, Ianthe," he said lamely. He sat down at his desk, not bothering to ask why she was there. She had a habit of telling him before he could say a word.

        "I've already written up the letter to Kallias," she seemed too eager. There was no reason for her to hate Lyriel. Not that he was aware of at least.

        She hadn't found out the truth, had she? 

        "It won't be necessary," Tamlin cursed himself for how quickly he'd said it. "Lyriel and I spent last night speaking about her actions. We'll be seeing a different side of her."

        They wouldn't. But the lie had slipped from his lips as easily as a breath. Perhaps he should ask her to keep up appearances, to keep from bringing too much attention to herself. However, he was almost certain that this would just make it worse. 

        "I suppose that's why her scent is all over you?" Ianthe's eyes darkened, the look making her look less beautiful and more like a vengeful spirit of some sort. He would not say it but it did scare him just a bit.

        His fingers curled around the arms of his chairs. His claws biting at the skin. "It was a long conversation."

        "Tamlin, if you've fucked the girl it's just another reason for us to be rid of her." 

        "I haven't laid a finger on her." It didn't matter that he wanted to. It didn't matter that she haunted his thoughts in the late hours of the night. He would never hurt Feyre in that way. Would never hurt anyone by betraying their trust like that. He was a monster but he was not cruel.

        "Of course you haven't," Ianthe sat forward, her eyes twinkling in a predatory way. "I won't judge you for having needs, Tamlin. But you might think of the Cursebreaker."

        His spine straightened as he realized just what she was doing. He knew that Ianthe had her ways. That she plotted and manipulated things. But he had never expected her to go after him. He had always assumed that she would use it for him. 

        "I think of Feyre constantly. Mind your tongue, Ianthe. I've done nothing wrong." Tamlin's claws slipped from the skin, causing him to nearly wince. Contrary to popular belief, he felt the pain that came with losing control. He did not do it for fun. Even if the world thought it was something he had fun with. The world was quite wrong about most things that had to do with Tamlin.

        The door burst open before she had a chance to respond. Lucien stood in the doorway, a letter clenched in his hands and an easy grin on his lips. 

        "Tam, you're going to want to hear this," he stopped once he noticed that Ianthe was there. His easy grin slipped from his face, a tension coming to him that Tamlin had not noticed before. He wondered if he could sense the tension in the room or if Ianthe just bothered him that much. He knew which he assumed it was. But that didn't often mean that he was right.

        "Ianthe, we'll discuss this later," he told the priestess without a glance. She was going to threaten him? He would show her exactly who she was dealing with. He had been known to be petty on occasion. 

        Ianthe bristled but she stood nonetheless. "Of course," was all she said before she slipped out of the room. She sent a glare his way before disappearing down the hallways. He just had to hope that she would not be going to find Feyre. Not now. Not ever.

        He would rather die than hurt her. Knowing he spent the night with Lyriel? It didn't matter the context, it would hurt her.

        "What is it Lucien?" He asked as his friend stepped into the room, shutting and latching the door behind him. Lucien sank into the chair that Ianthe had vacated, tossing the letter onto the desk.

        "We've received word from Cari," Lucien never used the woman's full name. If Tamlin hadn't of known better, he would've assumed that he was sweet on her. "Rhysand has shockingly not said a damned word about his plans. But she does know something about Azriel."

        Tamlin's brow rose as he picked up the letter. It was coded. The words were written in the small footprints of her green finch. She and Lucien had spent weeks with the creature devising the code. Tamlin had never really gotten his head around it. But his spymaster had been too proud of it for him to tell her to change it.

        "What exactly does she know?" 

        "Besides the fact that he doesn't want a mate unless it's Morrigan?" Lucien began to smirk slightly as he watched Tamlin. "Well, apparently the shadowsinger has been watching the human realms. According to Cari, he's spending more of his time there than at the Night Court. It makes you wonder what exactly they're doing over there."

        A soft sigh escaped Tamlin's lips. "That doesn't tell us anything! Just that the Night Court is interested in another Feyre," he wasn't completely certain that was the case. However, there was something that told him it wasn't.

        There was something else going on. Something that he was unsure if he wanted to know. He knew that Prythian was not safe. Hybern would surely send another monster to their shores. War would come sooner or later. They could not just sit around and wait for it. 

        Despite knowing this, Tamlin knew that he would try to ignore the signs as long as possible. They had already been through too much. He didn't think he could stand going through all of it again. He couldn't stand putting his people through hell after telling them that it was over.

        He had lied to so many people in his life. What was a lie to protect them? 

        "Or that something's coming and we need to prepare for it," Lucien pointed out with a soft sigh. "Besides, we all know that there's no one that could replace Feyre. She's unique."

        That was one word for it. Tamlin knew she was better than unique. She was ... Perfection. Everything that he had ever wanted. Someone who was actually worthy of him and of being the wife of a High Lord. Feyre was everything to him. She was the one person that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

        Still, the news about the Night Court was distressing. He began to pace the room, his fingers twitching towards the knives on his bandolier. He didn't think about how he had seen Lyriel do the same thing. Her fingers constantly itching for a blade when she was concentrating. He didn't think about it because he had not truly realized they did the same thing. Why would he when his mind was constantly elsewhere?

        "Should we send scouts to the human realms?" He questioned, speaking more to himself than Lucien. "They might think we have another curse if we do. Fuck."

        His head tilted back, golden hair falling just to the middle of his back. He wondered how in the hell he was going to get anyone to understand the stresses. How was he going to deal with managing the blunderings of the Night Court as well as his feelings for a certain Winter Court soldier and his upcoming nuptials? It was all too much for any man. He didn't think anyone would have dealt with this nearly as well as he had.

        But considering he spent most of his nights sleeping as a beast at the foot of Feyre's bed, that wasn't saying much.

        Something had to give. It had to be soon. Otherwise, he was destined to run the Spring Court into ruin. The thought alone made him want to be sick.

        "I need to think," he announced. Lucien nodded his head, understanding clear on his face. That was the one good thing about Lucien. He always seemed to understand Tamlin. He knew that sometimes it was just better to let the beast wander off on his own. It was better to keep away from him. To give him space and time.

        He slipped out of his office, his fingers gripping the hilt of one of the knives strapped to his chest. He missed the days when he didn't have to keep his knives close. He missed when he could travel his court with nothing more than his fiddle. He missed writing about the beauty of his lands, of witnessing a child's smile when they heard his music. He doubted he would ever get a chance to experience that again. 

        Soft words escaped his lips as he walked out of Rosehall. He had never been a mumbler until becoming the High Lord. When problems became too much, he was either prone to letting the beast out or talking to himself. One was definitely a bit healthier than the other. Even if he wasn't sure which it was at times.

        Tamlin hardly paid attention to his surroundings as he walked. His feet taking him in the direction that he needed to go. His mind too distracted by whatever it was the Night Court was planning. None of it made sense. Why were they so focused on the human realms? Why was his spymaster so worried about the whole thing? Why did he want to question everything and not leave this whole mess up to Lucien and Cariaru? That should've been his go-to. He should've been focused on the wedding and getting rid of these feelings he had for Lyriel.

        The Night Court really did have to ruin everything. Didn't they?

        He strolled into the maze of roses. It was not the ones his father had given his mother but something she had done herself. She had taken him to the maze at the northeast corner of the grounds often as a child. They'd played for hours while his father trained his brothers.

        He missed her most of all. He knew that it was shitty and that he shouldn't have missed one of his family members more than the others. But he did. His mother had been the only one who had ever seen him and cared. The only one who had wanted the best for him. Maybe that was why it hurt the most that she was gone.

        The scent of roses had once been overwhelming to him. He had thought that it would one day drown him. That he would die by an overwhelming amount of roses. They had wound up in his nightmares. But now ... Now they calmed him. Now he realized they were more of a birthright than anything to ever be afraid of.

        He sank down on a stone bench that was still slightly damp from the storm that had ravaged them last night. He didn't mind it. The chill bit into him and kept him thinking critically about what was happening.

        He rested his elbows on his knees, his forefingers resting on his top lip to keep himself from speaking anymore. The wind blew through his hair, his eyes fluttering to a close. He would figure this out. Somehow, he would figure this out.

        The human queens had to have something to do with this. Maybe Azriel hadn't told Cariaru yet. They had only known her for a few months. It wasn't long enough for her to gain their trust. Soon though, she would be able to give them the information they required. Soon Tamlin would know exactly what was happening beyond his borders. At least, he hoped so. 

        Soft footsteps sounded behind him. The restless energy that had been building in him suddenly ceased. Whoever was approaching him would find that sneaking up on the High Lord of Spring was one of the stupidest decisions that one could ever make. 

        "Tamlin," her voice was soft, soothing his soul more than anything else ever had. What he wouldn't give to hear her say her name a thousand times. His name had never sounded like a song before. But Feyre made it sound so beautiful that he wanted to cry.

        "Feyre," he turned his head towards her. He tried to smile, tried to make her feel as though everything was fine. That he was at ease. Yet, would he ever be at ease? He had no hopes of understanding the Night Court. Nor did he know how he was supposed to marry Feyre when it felt as though everything was quickly beginning to change. It was a mess that he did not quite know what to do about. "What are you doing out here?"

        "I needed some fresh air," she admitted as she sat down beside him on the bench. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. He wanted nothing more than to keep her close for the rest of his life.

        At least then he would be able to protect her. He needed to protect her.

        "You didn't come to bed last night." He stiffened at that. Ianthe had been able to smell Lyriel on him. Would Feyre? Had she been able to figure out different scents yet? He didn't know but he hoped that she hadn't. Hoped that she was still so confused about that and everything else that came with being a High Fae.

        He felt like the world's shittiest person just for thinking it.

        "I had work to attend to. Nothing serious," he added quickly. "Just precautions. I don't want anything ruining our wedding."

        He tried to ignore the grimace that flashed across her expression. He had been trying to ignore the fact that whatever bond that had once been between them was quickly evaporating. He no longer felt that strong pull towards her. He knew that she avoided him as much as he avoided her. But he was fighting every single day to get that spark back. Maybe this whole thing was Lyriel's fault. Maybe they both just needed some time apart. Time to just process all that they had been through. All that they continued to go through.

        But if she was away from him he would be unable to protect her. Who knew what the other High Lords would do if they found out anything about Feyre. He was keeping her as safe as he possibly could by keeping her contained.

        He just didn't know that it was slowly killing her. He didn't want to know.

        "Are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in days," he said, his green eyes almost glowing with the concern that he felt for her.

        Feyre nodded her head, sheets of golden brown hair falling around her. "I'm fine, Tam. Just ... Just concerned with how fast everything's been happening."

        He could understand that. Could understand how frustrating the whole thing must have been. She had died, been brought back, and was now about to marry him. It had been a long few months. A long time that had somehow not been long enough. He wished he could have done more to help ease her into the whole thing. Wished that they could put off the wedding longer. However, he thought it would be the best way to put all the horrible shit behind him.

        Behind them.

        Feyre deserved to not worry about any of this. Not to worry about Amarantha or Hybern or any of it. She had done enough. She deserved to rest. 

        "We'll get through it," he promised her as he gently took her by the hand. "We always do."

        Her hand felt stiff and cold in his. It felt more like the hand of a corpse than of the woman that he loved. What had changed between them? Had they been through too much? Could they ever go back to what they had been? They deserved a happily ever after. He had been her fairytale prince. She had been his knight in shining armor. They were done now. They could sit back and rest without worrying about any of it.

        Yet they were broken. Perhaps they always had been. Two broken people who had tried to make each other whole. It just wasn't working this time.

        They had been broken down beyond repair. Tamlin just could not see it. He could not begin to let her go.

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 11//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks @df3ndyr @courtofjurdan @art-e-mis @herondamnn @the-third-me @im-still-trying-here @emikadreams @paytin77 @mis-lil-red @sleeping-and-books @lucieisabooknerd) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Lucien's horse came to a halt as we approached the front steps of Tamlin's manor. He continued to stare at me, completely taken aback as Lucien and I drew closer. I was still stiff as I stared back at him, my skin crawling with unwelcome nerves as we got closer and my breath caught in my throat as we stopped.

"Feyre?" Tamlin breathed, confused.

I jolted in the saddle when Lucien touched my knee carefully, and I met his reassuring gaze before he easily helped me down. I took a minute to compose myself, chanting over and over again in my head that this was temporary. I could do this, I could face him alone—for my people and for my family. I sucked in a deep breath before turning back to Tamlin, whose gaze hardened from being initially bewildered by my unexpected arrival.

"What do you want?" He growled.

Lucien took a careful step in front of me, but I touched his shoulder gently and stepped forward instead.

"I came to talk to you about the summit meeting," I replied, holding my head up high.

"I got your letter."

"I know, but I'm here to persuade you to come this year."

"No."

I frowned, "Tamlin, I-"

"I don't know what kind of trick you're trying to play at Feyre, but I'm not falling for it this time," he snapped.

"I'm not here to trick you, Tamlin, I only came to talk." I pressed.

"Now you want to talk?!" He snarled.

I flinched at his outburst and hated myself for it. As High Lady of the Night Court, Tamlin would not get the best of me, I couldn't allow any weakness to show. Still, I flinched, my stomach fluttering anxiously and before I could help it my hand instinctively flew to shield my swollen abdomen—hidden beneath the loose cream sweater I wore. I saw Tamlin's eyes follow my movement, and before I could move my hand away his eyes widened in realization.

I hesitated as he continued to stare, perturbed by my condition. I noticed the connections he was trying to make in his mind, his eyes searching at this revelation and how it might've led me here—back in his court.

I glanced at Lucien, who squared his shoulders and turned to Tamlin, "Just hear her out Tamlin." He said.

Tamlin didn't respond, continuing to stare at my stomach. I shifted on my feet, trying to think of what to say—of what I could say.

"This isn't why I wanted you to come to the summit, Tamlin. You haven't been a part of our alliance for a decade, and honestly you should be." His eyes finally met mine as I continued.

"You once asked Rhys if I could ever forgive you, and for a long time...I didn't think I could. But we're all on the same side now."

"Are we?" He asked, his eyes still as cold as his tone.

"We wouldn't invite you every year if we weren't at least trying, Tamlin. It was Rhysand's idea to send Tarquin's armies to help rebuild your borders," I tried to reason.

"Something I could've done on my own if you hadn't destroyed them." He snapped, temper flaring again.

"I didn't destroy your borders, Tamlin." I said cautiously.

"You played a pretty profound role in it."

"I didn't come here to point fingers!" I snapped back, but winced from the effort, my head starting to spin again.

Lucien reached to steady me in place, "Why don't we go inside?" He asked.

"No," I answered quickly before the dizziness dispelled. I sighed, "Look, what happened with the war with Hybern, and everything before...is in the past. I didn't think I could forgive you, but right now, more than anything, all I want is peace. For my child, and for all of us. I'm having a baby, and all I want for him is to inherit our throne with strong allies in all courts."

Tamlin glanced at my stomach again, his face still dark and skeptical as he returned his gaze to mine. "Why the emergency summit?" he asked.

I chewed on my lip thoughtfully. I couldn't tell him of the threat the Night Court faced, it was too risky. He had to be present with the others before Rhys and I revealed the coup.

"All I can say is that there's important news to be shared; news that could affect all of Prythian and the Mortal Lands," I said, glancing over at Lucien.

Lucien nodded, "I'll talk with Jurian and Vassa, but I'm sure there won't be any issue."

I looked back at Tamlin. "At least think about it. That's all I ask," I said.

He squared his shoulders, leveling a look at me. "Is that it?"

I paused and cast a glance at Lucien again, whose eyes met mine at the same time. "What do you say Tamlin?" He asked.

"I say I want you to remove the High Lady of the Night Court from here," came his cold reply, a bit mocking as he addressed me by my title.

I darkened, "Lucien isn't your emissary anymore, he doesn't obey you. Your years of sitting down here in solitude have more than proved that."

"I'm only in this solitude thanks to you. Do you know how long it took me to regain the trust of my people, and now that I have it you show up here unannounced claiming a truce? And I'm supposed to believe it just because you're pregnant?"

"The only person you have to blame for the misgivings in your court is yourself, Tamlin." I threw my arms up in the air exasperatedly, letting them drop by my sides. "If you don't want to believe me, fine. I came here to at least try and include you. You've been excluding yourself for over a decade, and I thought maybe things could change, but I won't beg you."

He turned away after my speech, unable to look at me as he muttered "Get out."

I shook my head incredulously before turning on my heel and storming down the driveway, or at least with as much vigor as I could muster. It hadn't been a full hour since I arrived, and without my full strength back I wasn't confident I would be able to winnow back to Velaris.

"Feyre, wait." Lucien interjected before I could reach the end of the driveway. "You can't winnow back yet, you don't have the stamina."

I turned back to face him, "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." He turned an imploring look back at Tamlin, "I can't winnow her back, my powers only allow me to winnow in short bursts. And I'm guessing you came here under wraps?" He asked, turning his attention back to me.

"Lucien, no." I started, realizing what he was implying. "If I can't winnow myself back, I'll call on Rhys."

"You are not bringing Rhysand back into my court," Tamlin snarled.

"She has to get home somehow, Tamlin." Lucien argued.

"You can take her back."

"I can't. Winnowing that many times is dangerous on a pregnant female."

Suddenly, breathing became difficult as the two continued to argue back and forth. If Tamlin wouldn't allow Rhys back on his territory, then I wouldn't be able to call him through our bond in order to winnow us both back home. I was too weak to winnow myself even a mile away from here, and Lucien was right. Too many trips would endanger the baby's life.

I was trapped.

Trapped.Trapped.Trapped.

Just like before, when Tamlin locked me in his manor.

No, not like before. This isn't like before.

I slipped my eyes shut again, turning away from them as I focused on leveling my breaths. I felt my dark powers beginning to edge around the corners of my mind, my thoughts racing in a frenzy as my nerves screamed and begged to be released from this cage, but I allowed my breaths to welcome a glow—the warm and soft glow I'd inherited from Helion. It was weaker, only able to illuminate the inside of my mind and skin, but I allowed the warmth in as my breathing finally evened out. I touched my abdomen gently as it fluttered lightly.

We're safe.

My son and I were safe, but deep down I knew thing's weren't completely settled. My sole purpose in returning to the Spring Court was to convince Tamlin to attend the summit. So far, I had failed miserably. It seemed my sudden appearance was only stirring more distrust when all I was trying to do was build it. I wanted nothing but Tamlin's promise that he would attend, I couldn't leave now—so, I had to keep trying.

By the time I opened my eyes, Tamlin and Lucien's astonished eyes were on me. Though subtle, I guessed they could see the subtle glow on my skin as I grounded myself. The effort it took, however, was starting to make me feel lightheaded and I took a careful step in Tamlin's direction.

"Please," was all I could muster as I stumbled forward. Lucien caught me in his arms before I could fall to the ground, but I kept my eyes on Tamlin.

"Please help, Tamlin...not just to get me home, but at the summit. Please, just...show up, even if you never come to another summit meeting again. It would-" I swallowed as a dizzying spell started to envelope me. "I-It would mean more to me...than you realize."

As I managed to breathe out the last of my sentence, the world around me faded from light to dark—in the midst of it I could hear Lucien's muffled voice presumably calling my name and Tamlin's form getting closer to us before a wave of darkness overtook us completely.

I cringed as a high-pitched whine sounded in my ears, but it soon disappeared and I opened my eyes to familiar surroundings. I was disoriented at first as I started to recognize the gossamer drapes blowing in the wind and the hall of moon-stone pillars.

"Feyre!" came Mor's panicked voice, followed by the sounds of her shoes hitting the marble floors as she approached.

As I turned to her, I realized I was in the palace above the Court of Nightmares and in the seconds before Mor rushed to my side I became aware of the fact that Lucien and Tamlin were standing beside me. Lucien was still holding me upright, but Mor quickly shoved him away and took his place.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" She yelled at Lucien, and turned threatening eyes to Tamlin. "And what in the gods-damned name is he doing here?"

"Feyre came to my court. I just brought her back," Tamlin all but snarled in reply.

"She was too weak to winnow herself back," Lucien added quickly.

"Do you have any idea what Rhysand will do when he finds out you were anywhere near her?" She growled at Tamlin, ignoring Lucien altogether.

"Mor, please." I said, finally having the clarity to speak.

Tamlin had actually winnowed us back, regardless of what he believed it might cost him. Maybe I had gotten through to him after all.

Mor turned me to face her, giving me a once-over with terror-stricken eyes. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Is the-"

"She's just fine Mor," came Rhysand's smooth voice.

I turned at the sound, unable to help the relief that flooded through me as he walked through the entranceway of the palace—Cassian and Azriel flanking his sides, their shoulders tight and jaws taught as they took in Tamlin's presence. I moved from Mor's embrace and made towards his direction, but I overestimated my renewed strength and my knees buckled. Mor gasped as the males in the room stiffened—except for Rhys, who caught me easily in his arms and swept me off my feet. He brought me over to the settee in the middle of the room and set me down carefully, dropping to one knee in front of me.

Are you alright? He asked down the bond, a hand coming to my abdomen as if to check on the baby.

Perfectly, fine. I promise. I reassured him, resting a hand atop his.

Those beautiful violet eyes silently studied mine for a moment before he stood, turning to face Tamlin and Lucien. "Thank you for bringing Feyre back," Rhys said calmly.

"You're thanking them?" Mor asked incredulously.

"Sometimes, cousin, I think you jump to conclusions," Rhys simply replied.

Cassian, who had relaxed a bit upon seeing Rhys's unmoved demeanor, snorted from his and Azriel's spot beside her, "Sometimes?"

Mor threw him a deathly glare, but before she could open her mouth to retort, Lucien spoke up.

"Feyre came to the Spring Court to talk to Tamlin. She said she wanted him, that you both wanted him, to attend this year's summit meeting," he began, looking at Rhys as he explained.

"She was too weak to winnow back, and I knew my attempts would endanger the youngling she's carrying."

Mor stiffened at the word. "She told us she was pregnant," Lucien added quickly. "When Feyre started to feel faint, Tamlin winnowed us both here."

All eyes turned to Tamlin, who had kept his proud and tall stance a good distance away at Lucien's side. Rhys hadn't taken his eyes off the male since he thanked him, and I began to worry when another minute passed after Lucien's statement.

Finally, Rhys cleared his throat. "Will you be attending then?" He asked Tamlin.

Tamlin's green eyes were as hard as stone as he matched Rhys's own gaze. He stiffly nodded, glancing at me briefly. "I'll go this time, but I make no promises to attend again."

I watched as amethyst and emerald hardened, faces unyielding in a silent exchange between males. I couldn't help the image being captured in my mind and how I would try to recreate it on canvas later. Amethyst vs. emerald I would call the painting.

Rhys, unblinking, simply nodded his head in acknowledgement before Tamlin tore his gaze away and towards Lucien. "Are you coming?" he asked.

Lucien hesitated, glancing in my direction as he undoubtedly thought of Elain. Turning his eyes from me and briefly at Azriel, his face darkened marginally before he shook it away and finally turned back to Tamlin with a nod.

Tamlin simply stepped beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder before they both winnowed away without another word. Mor finally relaxed with a sigh and turned to face me.

"What were you thinking going over there like that, Feyre?" She implored pleadingly.

"I was thinking about what was best for my people, for you—all of you." I replied, making it a point to meet Cassian and Azriel's equal unapproving gaze.

"You could've asked one of us to go with you, Feyre. That was a risky move, for you and for the baby," Cassian argued.

"It was something I had to do alone, and as your High Lady I don't have to explain it further than that," I snapped a little too fiercely.

The three of them exchanged frowns and I sighed heavily, "Look, I'm sorry I pulled rank like that, but this was important. As strained as things are with Tamlin, we might need him for this fight. He proved useful during the war with Hybern, and if Beron has truly allied with Keir and added to his numbers, we need all the help we can get—even if we don't like it."

They eased, unable to really argue. They knew I was right, despite their reluctance, and I was glad that they at least understood now.

"You were right to go, Feyre." Rhys said, kneeling before me again. "I'm just relieved that you're alright. That you're both alright," he emphasized, touching my stomach again as it fluttered spontaneously.

My eyes softened as I met his, cupping his cheek gently before we both stared at his hand on my abdomen. I hardly noticed when Mor, Cassian and Azriel quietly dismissed themselves during our silent interaction; Rhys continued to stroke the gentle swell of my stomach gently.

Are you mad? I asked through the bond, unable to trust my voice.

Rhys raised his head, "Why would I be mad?" he asked aloud.

"I didn't tell you I was going. I didn't tell anyone," I said.

He smirked wryly, "I already knew."

I balked at him. "You knew I was going to the Spring Court?"

He came up to sit beside me on the settee, his hand never moving from my stomach. "Well, I didn't know that, but I knew you had something planned," he amended. "You folded far too easily yesterday after I said it wasn't a good idea."

"And you didn't try to talk me out of it?" I asked.

"Of course not," Rhys brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I know how insufferable my male-bonded instincts have been lately, and as promised, I won't let them stifle you again."

I smiled and leaned into his touch. "Thank you, for trusting me."

"Always, Feyre darling," He smirked before capturing my lips in a quick kiss.

I sighed tiredly into the kiss, relishing in his touch but my body still too drained to envelope him in return.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he pulled away.

"I'm okay, just tired. The trip was a little more draining than I expected, I think the farther away I winnow the greater the effect," I explained.

His brow furrowed in concern, "We'll stay here for the night then, longer if you need more time to recover. Once Thesan responds to our letter, I'll request a room for us to stay in for as long as you'll need for the summit too."

I nodded, "I'm sure he'll be getting the same request from Kallias, unless Viviane stays behind."

Rhys snorted, "If his instincts are anywhere near the same as mine, he won't be leaving Viviane's side anytime soon—especially with her being further along than you are."

I frowned, "Do you think it'll be safe for her to travel? If it's this much of a strain on me, then I can't imagine how it must be for her."

"We'll find out. If anything, we'll request moving the meeting to the Winter Court instead. That way we can all be present, and all pregnant females involved will be safe." Rhys suggested.

I sighed, leaning against him. I couldn't fight the burning in my eyes as the reality of our situation settled over me. Since finding out about the coup weeks ago, I no longer felt peace. I longed for that peace—the elation we felt after finding out I was pregnant. For a while, everything felt right. Now it was convoluted with threats of war and resentment from other courts—our own court.

"Feyre?" Rhys asked gently as I stifled a sob with a sniffle.

"It's not fair," I choked out.

I let out a full-blown sob when he turned to face me again, wiping at my eyes in frustration. "What's not?" He urged tenderly.

"All of this," I gestured to the room wildly with another sob. "This is supposed to be the happiest time in our lives. We're having a baby, and instead of making plans for the nursery or picking out names, or clothes-" I hiccuped, angry with myself as I cursed my damned hormones. "We're supposed to be planning for our son's arrival, and instead we're planning an emergency summit and pleading for allies because our own people are trying to kill us-" I couldn't help another sob as I finally dissolved into tears.

Rhys pulled me close, holding me and allowing me this time to cry—to mourn the joy we were being robbed of. This was the first time in weeks I had allowed myself to really react to the news of the coup; to give in to my fears for a minute. Despite how much I hated how vulnerable I felt, I needed this moment, and Rhys held me the whole time.

I lost track of the minutes, burying my face in Rhys's shoulder when he scooped me up in his arms. I hadn't realized he brought us to my old room until moments later when I finally started to calm. We were on my old plush and extravagant bed, with Rhys holding me on his lap and his nose gently buried in my hair as I cried. Once the sobs ceased and a sense of relief in my chest lifted the weight from my shoulders, I raised my head slowly. I silently sniffed as I met Rhys's empathetic expression.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice still thick from my tears.

"Don't apologize, Feyre. You're absolutely right; we're dealing with something we shouldn't have to be—especially now," he said, his hand finding its favorite spot on my abdomen.

"But this is still a joyous time for us. We've been dealt an unexpected circumstance, but we're still going to have a baby. We'll deal with this coup, and we'll survive; our son will be born." He fiercely reassured, brushing a thumb along my cheek.

I sniffed, trying not to burst into a new round of tears and he trembled with a laugh, "I can't imagine the amount of hormones surging through you right now, my love."

I laughed wetly and hit his shoulder, "It's not funny!" I exclaimed tearfully. "There are times when I can't control my emotions, it's horrible."

"I know," he laughed again, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead and I was able to calm myself without the need of new tears.

I sighed, spent. "Thank you...I know you're right. No matter what, everything will work out—somehow. I just hate how much it's taken away from the baby, even if he isn't here yet." I said, looking down at his hand perched on the swell of my stomach.

"Don't worry," Rhys said, giving it another stroke. "We still have plenty of time to prepare for his arrival. In the meantime, before the summit and while we're here, we'll focus on him."

I let out a deep breath and nodded in agreement. "I'd like that."

"How about we start with his name? I've had a couple of ideas," he grinned mischievously.

"We're not naming him Rhysand Jr."

Rhys gasped in mock-exaggeration. "How can my mate not want to name our own son after his father?"

I laughed, "Because our son needs his own name."

"I suppose, but I say we wait to officially name him once he's born. Then we can make sure whatever name we choose suits him," Rhys amended.

I draped my arms over his shoulders with a smile, "I can live with that."