#The King who knelt saved countless lives by kneeling

[jackoshadows]

Regarding Northern independence... and the King who Knelt.

It’s slightly hilarious how certain Stark fans are so obsessed with Northern independence, when an existential apocalyptic threat is literally moving towards the North – acting exactly as the Westerosi lords focused on their petty politics while ignoring the real issue.

But anyways let’s explore Northern independence. Assuming that the show is hitting the same important plot points that GRRM told David and Dan would be happening in the books, then let’s see how it will happen in the books.

If Jon does indeed become KITN in the books, then it happens via Robb’s will. As per Robb’s will, Jon is legitimized – pushing him to the head of the line as the eldest Stark son. If Jon becomes KITN in the books, he does so as both Lord of Winterfell and KITN. No one is elected to this position, lol! That was just the show’s way of getting Jon to the same place he does in the books without Robb’s will and despite Sansa being there. Lord/Lady of Winterfell and KITN/QITN cannot be split as Winterfell is basically the seat of the KITN and his children will inherit WF. The show ignored all this because Jon is not going to be KITN/Lord of WF/Warden of the North for long considering his parentage. 

There is also a chance that Rickon becomes KITN since he is backed by Manderly and Manderly is playing a big role in taking down the Boltons currently in the books.

Now, if Jon bends the knee to Dany on the show, then the KITN (whether it’s Jon, Rickon or Bran) in the books will also most probably do the same. And just like Torrhen Stark, the KITN would have the authority to make that decision. It could be that several Northerners disagree with this and split from Jon – as they did with Torrhen Stark. But it’s Jon’s decision as KITN and final.

Jon is used to making unpopular decisions that go against the grain. He got assassinated the last time he enforced a highly unpopular decision – to let the Wildlings past the wall. He was the only one who thought it was the right decision – even Edd disagreed! But he went ahead and did it anyway – and that’s Jon. He went south to meet Dany – against the advice of every single person in the North – even Lyanna Mormont. But he did it – because as Tyrion points out, getting weapons and men for the depleted North was worth the risk. He went on a dangerous wight hunt – again, against everyone’s advice because he needed to convince people of the real threat beyond the wall.

This is who Jon is as a character. Even in the books, Jon is highly authoritarian – he does what he thinks is right and if anyone disagrees with him – he stops asking them for advice. On the show, Sansa complains to LF about Jon never asking for her opinions and she is right. He never does. Every single thing she asks him to do, he refuses.

As for the people who disagree with his decision…it will be interesting to see that next season. I think Arya and Bran will support Jon. The rest of them? Maybe they will break away from Jon and try to deal with the WW by themselves – good luck to them!

The North benefits from being in an union than outside of it. Ned certainly thought so, considering he continued under Robert’s rule despite hiding baby Jon from Robert’s wrath.

I think for the most part, the North will be okay with the Targaryen who has come to help. In the books, the North seceded because of the Lannisters and not the Targs. As the GreatJon says when he names Robb KITN:

MY LORDS! Here is what I say to these two kings! Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them. Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead! There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords. The King in the North!

And as Manderly points out in his North remembers speech:

You saw them, the arrogant Ser Jared and his nephew Rhaegar, that smirking worm who wears a dragon's name

That’s right. Manderly thinks that Rhaegar Frey is not worthy of the name. As we saw in the fire and blood excerpt, the Manderlys have ties to the Targs through the many alliances Alysanne made.

So if the KITN in the books – whether it be Jon, Rickon or Bran – decides to bend the knee to Queen Daenerys Targaryen, I don’t see the book Northerners having much of an issue with it. Of course the Northerners in the books are a bunch of hardy, loyal bad-asses and not the treacherous, whiny weather vanes they are on the show. So let’s see what they do next season. I am sure Jon will continue to do what he thinks is best – no matter their response.

And once they see Dany helping them fight the WW, I think they will accept her as Queen. In fact I could see them pushing for a Jon Snow/Dany marriage to make the Stark-Targ alliance even stronger.

[ijustwant2write]

I’ll Be There To Save You-Halfdan The Black x Reader

(GIF credit to @sceawere​)

Tags: @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi, I really love your work! So... can you do a one shot about Rollo or Halfdan pls? idk where he saves the reader from being raped or something like that. Thanks’

Characters: Halfdan x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name 

Warnings: Almost rape, violence, fighting, gore (blood), swearing, remorse, insecurity, fluff at the end

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I am aching from yesterday. You think we could take a day of rest to relish in the the glory, but no, onto the next village.” my friend Astra moaned, massaging her shoulder.

I smiled as I sharpened my sword.“Do I hear you complaining about raiding? I never thought I would see the day.”

“I love raiding as much as the next viking, but aren’t you tired? We seem to be going full force on this one.”

I sat back, checking over my weapon.“Yes, I suppose I am. This is our last stop though before we head home. And it seems that this village is tiny, it won’t take more than an hour to go through.”

“I guess you’re right.” she sighed.“Oh, look who is headed this way.”

Looking up, I followed her eye line, smiling as I spotted Halfdan.“Right on time as usual.”

“Why haven’t you two married yet? You’re both in love, you express that love in front of everyone, may as well take the next step.”

I put my sword away, scoffing before speaking.“Believe me, I ask myself that question almost everyday.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Maybe you’ll be engaged when I see you again.”

I rolled my eyes at her, both of us knew it wouldn’t be true. But she was right, it seemed odd that Halfdan hadn’t asked me. Each of us knew each other’s intentions, this wasn’t a situation where two people needed their beds warmed at night. I had made that extra clear when I started to feel things for him, threatening that if he humiliated me, I would not hesitate to hurt him. He had laughed at that, though I wasn’t offended; he was humoured by it because he had no intention to do that, he confessed his feelings for me too. And it had been surprising how comfortable he had been with publicising it, especially for a man that expressed himself through violence. 

“Good morning.” I smiled, welcoming the kiss he slowly placed on my lips.

"Are you ready for another day in paradise?"

I could never tell if he was serious when he spoke like that."You really do see the more positive side to everything, don't you?"

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer into his body."You're the one that fell for me, so it must work."

"Are you ready? Do you have all of your weapons?" I asked, looking over his body.

"Yes, do you?"

I nodded.

"Stay close to me today, OK?"

"I always do. Anyway, this shouldn't be hard today."

"Don't underestimate the enemy. Please, don't get overexcited and run off."

"I promise!" I urged."Come on, we need to go."

People parted as Halfdan and I approached. The raid was being led by his brother, Harald, meaning Halfdan was leading alongside him. I just got to tag along. Everyone was gearing themselves up for the charge, frustrated that we still had to walk for a half hour or so before the bloodshed began. Harald hugged his brother, patting each other on the back before he turned to me, grabbing my hand and kissing it. He always treated me like I was some sort of lady. Harald captured everyone's attention as he stood on top of a bench, raising his arms as a sign for people to silence themselves.

"Unfortunately, it is our last day of raiding, our last day of conquering another part of this land. I want to thank all of you, my brothers and sisters, for helping me in my quest to be king of all of Norway! We have been victorious at every battle, because we are strong! Because we are ruthless! Because we are viking!"

Everyone raised their weapons as they cheered, getting riled up and excited for the final battle. I glanced up at Halfdan, loving the expression on his face. Yes, he looked like a madman, but that was him at his best. He lived for this. Halfdan was born for fighting, the passion he had for it was amazing. I remember when I had been naive enough to think that killing was more important him than I was. He soon proved me wrong, countless times.

"Just think," Halfdan caught my attention as we began our short journey to the edge of the village,"after all of this, after we sail back home, we have all the time in the world to ourselves. In that house, all alone-"

"Don't cloud my mind before a fight. We can celebrate after." I winked.

"I'm just talking about the future."

"The future? Halfdan, what do you mean by that?"

"You just said you had to stay focused. We're almost there."

He was such a tease, in and out of bed. He was right though. I needed to think about what was ahead, even if it was going to be easy. We were quiet as we reached the village, though even from a few miles away, you could hear screams of panic. Harald ordered us to move quicker, almost running. Soon enough we were charging, battle cries ringing out and echoing across the land. I kept up with Halfdan, somehow able to not get mixed up with the rest of the army. There were warriors ahead of us who had broken down the pitiful barrier set up, and we were free to reign terror amongst these people.

Halfdan and I continued running as others started slaughtering and pillaging. We cut down those that tried to attack us with ease, smiling maniacally at each other. We slowed down, catching our breath, about to decide where to raid when a group of men charged towards us. Back to back, we fought against all types of attacks, sowrds and axes swinging down on us. I was concentrating so much on not getting killed, that I didn't realise that Halfdan and I got separated. It was finally one on one, but this man had no special skills; he was a bloke that thought he could easily outdo someone smaller than him, a stupid mistake to make. With one final swoop, I cut his neck open, watching as he fell to his knees, blood spurting out rapidly. Taking a second to catch my breath, I headed back to where I had left Halfdan, when someone pounced onto my back.

Crying out in pain as he landed on top of me, I kept a sturdy grip on my sword, trying to get him off me. However, he had a knife, and sliced the back of my hand, and instinctively I let go as I yelped. He grabbed my right shoulder, harshly rolling me onto my back. The sun was shining down, causing him to become a shadowy figure. He straddled me, but placed one knee on top of my torso, crushing my lungs.

He snarled as he leaned down, adding more pressure. I tried swinging a punch across his face when he was close enough, but he smirked as he easily dodged it by sitting back again.

"Get the fuck off me." I struggled to say, running out of air.

He finally got off me, but grabbed my legs, dragging me behind one of the shacks they called a house. I reached out for my sword, just missing it due to the speed he was walking. I couldn't scream yet, still gasping for air as I wriggled around, hoping it would make it hard for him to hold me. Nothing seemed to work, and it was only now that I started to panic.

"Get off me!" I shouted out."Help! HALFDAN!"

The man was laughing, it was sick and dark laugh. He let my legs drop, and there wasn't even time to crawl away. It was as if he jumped on me, and I felt breathless again. Thrashing my arms did nothing, he was even effected when I slapped him. Again, he flipped me over onto my front, lying on top of me. I cried out as I felt his hand travel down to my trousers, yanking them down before I felt him wriggle around.

"STOP! PLEASE STOP!" I screeched, but it was muffled as he shoved my head into the ground, mud sticking to my face.

I started crying, my heart racing faster than it ever had. I was helpless. I couldn't do anything to help myself. No one was around, and if they were, they would think I was one of the villagers. His hips started moving around, and I just knew it was about to happen. Bracing myself, all I could do was cry, and hope this would be over soon.

I heard a man yell out in frustration, before the thudding of feet approached us, and the man holding me down cried out in pain, and his weight was lifted off of me. My body was shaking from fear, confused as to what had just happened.

"(Y/N)..." I heard Halfdan breathe out.

I couldn't move. No matter how much I wanted to, the urge to leave wasn't responding to my body.

"You're safe now. He's dead, he can't hurt you anymore." he whispered, kneeling down beside me.

I realised my trousers were still down, and so did Halfdan. He slowly reached out to cover me up, to regain some dignity, but I flinched away.

"No." I whimpered.

"(Y/N), please let me help you."

I looked up at him through teary eyes, nodding to let him know I was allowing him to touch me. I had never felt a gentler touch from him as he pulled up my trousers, before helping me sit up. My fingers clutched onto the material of his armour, and I felt more and more tears spilling out of my eyes. Glancing to my right, I saw the dead man, my sons becoming wails at this point. Halfdan hesitantly knelt down next to me, wrapping his arms around me slowly, but I quickly hugged him, too scared that if I let go, the man would get back up and continue.

The screams of the villagers was blanked out in my mind, I could smell the smoke from the fires started, and the horrid stench of blood from the man beside me as well as the blood on our clothes, but none of it really registered in my mind. This had never happened to me, I thought I was strong enough to avoid this sort of thing. That if anyone were to do this, I could easily strike them down.

"Let's get back to the camp. I think it's over." Halfdan quietly said, starting to stand up.

He held his hands out to get me on my feet, however, my hands wouldn't move. I was reluctant to hold them, and my heart broke when I saw Halfdan's face. When my hands finally met with his, I managed to stand, my legs also shook, and it was a long walk back for us.

There were questionable stares from everyone we passed. No one had ever seen me cry, only Halfdan, and that was once. They were all celebrating, showing off the riches hidden in the bland village, as well as boating about how many people they had killed. I couldn't even pretend to be happy. My crying hadn't ceased, it was silent now. I hung my head, almost ashamed of what had happened. Why couldn't I have stopped it from happening? Was I weaker now? Was I too cocky?

"And where are you two off to? You must celebrate with us before you enjoy your evening together!" Harald called out, the people surrounding laughing and holldering at his joke.

"Not now brother." Halfdan snapped.

Halfdan walked us to our tent, setting me down on our bed. My eyes were wide as I continued to whimper, desperate to erase that dirty feeling from my body and mind. Halfdan knelt in front of me, reaching out for my hand again when I retracted from it, clutching my other hand on my chest. I realised what I had done as soon as it happened.

"I'm sorry Halfdan." I shakily breathed out."I didn't mean that. It's just...that man, he touched me and-"

Halfdan gently shushed me."You're safe (Y/N). I would never do anything to harm you. That bastard is gone now, I wish I could have given him a more slow, painful death. But I had to save you."

"I know. Thank you Halfdan."

He sadly smiled.

"I feel so weak. Why couldn't I stop him?"

"He played dirty. He was not a man. And you are the strongest woman on this earth. The God's would not have kept you alive on all these raids if not."

"Why me?"

"I don't know."

Although it wasn't very loving, I reached out to cup Halfdan's cheek in my hand, still nervous about this much contact.

"I'm so sorry for not being there with you. I lost you and looked all over when something told me where you were, like an instinct. I should have been there."

"You saved me Halfdan."

"I know but-"

I shook my head frantically."Let's not talk about it anymore. Would...would you lie down beside me?"

"Of course."

He let me move by myself, letting me get comfy before he cautiously laid beside me. I was on my back, and I could feel his eyes watching me. My hand slid across the bed to meet his, and I felt comfort and warmth as he interlaced our fingers. After taking a few deep breaths, I was confident enough to roll onto my side, seeing Harald already looking at me, and shuffling to be closer to him. There was a small smile on his face as he careful wrapped his arms around me, placing a gentle kiss on my head.

"I love you (Y/N). I will always be there to protect you."

[syrahnbloodfeather]

A Little More Time

Tyrasam took the news of Alucieus’ death a lot harder than she expected. Losing the only man her late husband could call a friend placed a heavy burden on her shoulders, especially considering he too died as an indirect result of fel corruption. She didn't know the details of the High Justicar’s demise but she didn't need to; the burns on her daughter's hands told her all she needed to know.

To think Whitstan would kill both Zerethel and Alucieus was a nightmare that kept her awake for more nights than she cared to remember. It was a reality she fought against in the snowy woods of the Western Plaguelands and beyond. The moment happened at last, forever burned into her history, yet she still didn't know how to feel about it. With Jaeras now under strict supervision at the Amber Castle, Tyrasam was free to visit Syrahn at her leisure.

She knew what she would see when she arrived at the gates of the Amber Castle, but she still wasn't ready. Rows of coffins lined the left side of the courtyard, draped in black cloth with their names engraved in gold. Countless guards and families alike surrounded them, many leaning over the coffins and sobbing; a bit no older than six stood beside his weeping mother, saluting what had to be the remains of his father. It wasn't something Tyrasam could stomach looking at for long. Worse still, an angry crowd was growing outside of the gates. They were demanding answers Syrahn likely didn't have. Fortunately the guards keeping them from getting any closer to the castle recognized her and let her pass without incident, otherwise she would be sent straight back home.

Tyrasam found Syrahn’s family in the gilded halls beneath the Seat of the Exalted; while the adults did their best to keep their spirits high despite the trouble gathering outside, the children were blissfully ignorant of the situation, and at best, curious from the tension in the air around them. The guards didn’t pay the Paladin any mind, so neither did any of Syrahn’s relatives, allowing her to slip past them seemingly unnoticed to ascend yet another staircase that led to Syrahn’s private chambers.

Her office was a mess. The large wooden desk she sat behind was overflowing with letters and blank sheets of parchment, with several inkwells cluttered near her functioning hand. It wasn’t until Tyrasam cleared her throat did Syrahn even notice her presence. “Oh…! Good morning, Sammy. Sorry for the mess… I didn’t expect you to get here so soon.”

Tyrasam gave Syrahn a comforting smile before meandering toward the alcohol cabinet. “No need to apologize, Syrie. So…” she started while pouring herself a drink, “Keeping yourself busy with writing these days, hm?”

“They’re letters to the families of the guards who died from Alucieus’ onslaught.” The Priestess lowered her head after saying his name; soon that name would belong only to a distant memory, like Ashelin, Areus, and Ehalu. “I don’t think it’s going to help ease their pain one bit, but, it won’t make things worse. Did you see the coffins outside?”

Tyrasam walked around the table with a bottle in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. “I did… along with the crowd.” She couldn’t find a chair that wasn’t covered in paper, so she decided to lean against the wall instead. “They seem angrier at you than the man that took their sons and husbands away…”

“They want answers for the attack. Answers I can’t give them.” Syrahn almost seemed apathetic to their plight, but perhaps she was just emotionally drained from this whole ordeal. The woman finally put her quill away to lean back in her chair. “The commonfolk are convinced it was an assault by the Alliance, and they want blood. The great houses blame House Sun’rael for Alucieus succumbing to the fel corruption, and the meeting yesterday decided Lady Covaya would compensate us for the destruction of our property.”

“How much would that cost?”

“Just over six million.” Tyrasam almost choked on her wine and threatened to spit it across the room, but she proved to be exceptionally talented with holding her liquor.

“Six million?!” She coughed out, wiping wine off her bottom lip. “That’s insane! All he destroyed was a garden, a gate and some statues!”

“That statue was in honor of Lord Kael’kro Sunlust and his lingering legacy.” Syrahn furrowed her brow while she stared off into space. “It was created by Benjamin Kess, a legendary mason that traveled all the way from Stromgarde to cut the statue - by hand - out of the largest boulder in Quel’thalas. Kings would have to wait decades just to get their hands on his craftsmanship… until the Third War happened.” Syrahn closed her eyes and slowly reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose; a surefire sign of her frustration. “I have no desire to make Covie pay for my mistake, especially with her house on hard times now that the war against the Legion is nearing its end. But you must understand… I can’t keep giving my friends favors while ignoring the people I’m charged to protect. My authority isn’t as strong as it needs to be, and it’s only getting weaker by the day. I have to prove to these people that I’m capable of keeping them safe. I can’t tread on their traditions in one moment, then demand their respect and allegiance in another. It’s just…” Syrahn rubbed her temple with her thumb. “Lately I’ve been trying to do what I believe is right, and it’s been causing me nothing but trouble. I don’t know why I keep bothering.”

“It's not just you.” Tyrasam assured her. “I was the one who first attacked Whitstan at the gates of Silvermoon City…” She paused as she rubbed the center of her chest. “Almost died that day… if Whitstan didn't restrain himself, I certainly would've. I guess what I'm trying to say is… never regret doing what's right. If I saw Whitstan but minded my own business my husband would still be alive, Zaldrannar would still be afloat, which means Alucieus would still be alive… everything bad that's happened to us after stopping Hellscream in Draenor could be traced back to my impulse to kill Whitstan.”

Syrahn was quick to retort with, “That's not true. Whitstan was only in Silvermoon because I brought him back from the brink of death after Areus left him to fade away near Scholomance. If I had left him alone, none of this would have happened.”

“You did the right thing.” She softly yet firmly said, placing a hand on Syrahn’s shoulder. “You were the only one to see good in him. You alone. You suffered for it too… I… heard rumors of what Ashelin did to you in the Exchange…” Syrahn slowly inhaled, but said nothing. “You were right to spare him. You were right to defend his right to live. You were right to unlock his memories. You were right to try and save Alucieus. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have the strength and tact to do the same. Jaeras wouldn't even know her real father, the Amber Glade would probably be in ruin with my husband in charge…” Tyrasam did her best to make light of the situation, but she wasn't sure how successful her attempts were. “You're a strong woman. You'll persevere… you always have.”

Syrahn slowly turned in her chair and took Tyrasam’s hand before tears started rolling down her reddened cheeks. “Th-thank you Sam. I… I really needed to hear that from someone…” Tyrasam knelt beside her chair and pulled her in for a hug, but she was careful to avoid her bandaged arm. They stayed frozen in each other’s arms for quite some time, and Tyrasam refused to let her go until she stopped sobbing. It wasn’t until she could no longer ignore the ache in her legs from kneeling for so long did Syrahn finally settle down.

“Are you going to be okay?” Tyrasam asked affectionately. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“N-no…” Syrahn sniffled, wiping her face dry of tears with the palm of her hand. “But there’s… more news. It’s about Whitstan…”

A coldness gripped the Paladin’s stomach. “Oh Gods, did he...?”

“No! Nothing like that…” Her voice trailed off again before she inhaled sharply. “The undead can’t breed, needless to say. Kaevia and Whitstan have grown very close, and well…”

“He wants Jaeras.” Tyrasam stood up to her full height and looked down at the Priestess with a peculiar ring in her tone of voice. “Kaevia and Whitstan want to raise Jaeras since she’s technically his. Right?” Syrahn pursed her lips while she nodded. “I knew this would eventually happen. When he confronted me on the roads in Eversong Woods, I saw it in his eyes when he looked at her. I just thought… I’d have more time.”

“Lady Covaya has offered you a position within the Sun’rael estate.” Syrahn was quick to add, unsure if Tyrasam needed comforting words or not. “... so you can remain close… and watch her grow into a fine young woman.”

“I can’t do that.” Tyrasam bluntly admitted. Before Syrahn could respond, she continued with, “I have a business I’m running. All of my greatest customers are within walking distance from my home… and I… I’d just get in the way. No sense in having three parents, right? I belong here.”

The Priestess slowly rose from her chair to meet Tyrasam eye to eye. “You know you can say no.”

“No, I can’t.” She suddenly sounded exhausted. “At the end of the day, he is her father. Her true father. And he’s done a better job in the few times he’s visited than Zereth ever did, that’s for sure…” Now it was Syrahn’s turn to embrace Tyrasam. “I just… I j-just…! I wish I had more time…!”

Tyrasam’s composure shattered once Syrahn pulled her in for a hug. “You can visit her whenever you like. You can still be there for her when she needs you. You know this… S-Sammy…!” She felt her own eyes begin to flare up and sting again as the tears returned. They fed off each other's grief, when one trembled and sobbed, the other did it louder and heavier, and up and up they went. Syrahn and Tyrasam became so loud that they didn't even hear the door across the room open.

Miriam creaked the door open and poked her head inside before saying, “Syrahn are you almost done with the-...” She stopped in the middle of her question the moment she realized her sister and one of her friends were weeping uncontrollably in each other's arms; Miriam didn't know what they were crying over, but she wasn't about to stick around and find out. “I'll… come back later.”

Mentions: @alucieussunrael @k-sunrael

[bookcoyote]

REVIEW: A Court of Mist And Fury

Basic info: Author: Sarah J. Maas Series:  A Court of Thorns and Roses #2 Goodreads rating: 4.74 Published: 2016 My rating: 7/5 (my rating system gets out of hand) (but it’s too perfect for less)

Synopsis:  Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Well, kill me.

Do it.

I don’t want to live anymore.

Because Sarah J. Maas shattered and torn me to very very tiny pieces and I don’t know how to put myself into one again. 

This quote speaks to me a lot:

“I’d broken myself apart. And I didn’t think even eternity would be long enough to fix me.”

But let’s just start everything from the beginning.

At first, when I finished ACOTAR, I thought I’ll wait that half a year and read translation of ACOMAF because fantasy genre is really difficult to read in English, but with all those spoilers hunting me every day and those hints from other readers such as “Tamlin is such a prick”, “ACOMAF is a way better than ACOTAR” and “wait for Rhysand” made my curiosity grow and grow so I said that screw my medium English skills and just buy it. So I did.

I was overwhelmed by the size of ACOMAF, tho. Haven’t even known it had 600 pages, so imagine how surprised I was. As a non-English speaker it has been a challenge for me, but I am so proud of myself right now because I freaking read in it just a few days and understood everything. So who is the beast here? No, not Tamlin. Marta is a freaking beast who can read 600 pages in English!

“Hello, Feyre darling,” he purred.

Ya know, I have a thing for males who use some kind of nicknames like ‘love’ (*cough* Warner *cough*) or in this case, ‘darling’. I mean when those nicknames are not ‘babe’ which makes me want to vomit. Those lovely nicknames reminds me of old gentlemen times, when people still used titles as miss and mister. So, Rhys gets a point from me the first moment he enters ACOMAF.

And oh, boy, he brings such a havoc in it. Feyre is about to marry Tamlin, but realizes she doesn’t want to do that yet so she screams in her mind to someone to save her and BAM! Rhysand saves the day. Or more Feyre. Such a drama queen this man. Love it. Bring the soap opera elements and make them look fabulous, Sarah!

Actually, the following quote describes the whole book perfectly:

“I shouldn’t have been surprised. Not when Rhysand liked to make a spectacle of everything. And found pissing off Tamlin to be an art form.”

I am now skipping that part about Night Court and bargain because I first want to discuss Tamlin.

“I’m drowning,” I managed to say. “I am drowning. And the more you do this, the more guards... You might as well be shoving my head under the water.”

I loved how Feyre described Tamlin her feelings. And you know, his reaction kind of was horrific. Instead of going to comfort Feyre, his fiance, he hurts her. It’s like he would have been slapped Feyre in her face. But it still wasn’t enough to make me hate him, as everyone said I will. Even after he caged Feyre, I wasn’t pissed. And I kind of didn’t get why Feyre wouldn’t want to talk to him at least. On the other hand, she tried to talk to him before.

But you know, I had the feeling through the whole book what he is going to do and that made me hate him. I just knew he is going to betray her, come to that awful king and unite with him. I am kind of proud that I can always see plot twists which are about to come.

Now, let’s get back to Rhysand because he is the real star in ACOMAF, right?!

“The most powerful High Lord in history. In the countless millenia they had excisted here in Prythian, Rhys―Rhys with his smirking and sarcasm and bedroom eyes...”

Starting from Night Court and Velaris to Inner Circle and bound... I think that Sarah has created the most unique characters I’ve ever read about. Looking widely, Rhysand would be a bad boy, or even as book-nazis would call, abuser (seriously, stop seeing abusers everywhere, nor Rhys nor Tamlin nor even freaking Christian Grey is an abuser. You probably don’t even know what is an abuser if you think they are such), but he is such a unique bad boy that it seems even wrong to put him in this category. He is more an actor, which has a serious role and lives with that role. As it was said in the quote, Rhysand always puts a spectacle because it’s a part of who he is. And I loved that later Feyre joined him as his partner on the play. She is also an amazing actress, turns out.

I probably should move on the part we all loved. Hell yeah, romance.

And I want to discuss three things from which the first one is a development of Rhys and Feyre’s relationship.

Sarah is a genius in this case because the pace this relationship progressed was perfect. Not too fast, not too slow, just a perfect middle of it. And I loved that it wasn’t “oh Tamlin is such a bad person, let’s just make out with another High Lord”. I loved that Feyre didn’t forget Tamlin and felt awful when she started thinking about Rhys as a lover. Traitor, she called herself.

Another thing is a very unique way of communication, the bond, and very symbolic episodes which at the end, after chapter 54, turned out to have beautiful explanations, too. For example, the ring Feyre had to steal from Weaver. In one case, it was dangerous and stupid, but in another way, it is soooo romantic. I love that Rhys and Feyre’s relationship is sweet and sour at the same time, like hate and love, courage and fear. They accept each other they are, they heal each other.

Beautiful.

Okay, and last but not the least is that more fun part of this book. Sex scenes. I mean, I am not a fan of these, I usually skip those things in books because nowadays authors intend to write everything very openly and detailed and I want that books would have some secret, especially when it comes to that kind of episodes. However, I liked Sarah’s writing, I even fully read those episodes because they had some poetry in them. I think the best example of how erotic scenes should be made is throne episode, where Feyre had to act as Rhysand’s whore. I like that episode more than chapter 55 and I think it’s even one of my favourite all time episodes because it has some secret, it was dark and twisted and wicked and beautiful at the same time. Or this episode, tho.

“Rhys looked up, hands braced on my thights. Bow, he’d once ordered Tamlin. And now here he was, on his knees before me. His eyes glinted as if he remembered it, too.”

And this one, too.

“His words were a lethal caress as he said, “Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?” I knew he could hear my heart as it ratcheted into a thunderous beat. I gave him a hateful little smirk, anyway, yanking my chin out of his touch and leaping off the stone. I might have aimed for his feet. And he might have shifted out of the way just enough to avoid it. “Isn’t that all you males are good for, anyway?” 

What else, what else... Well, plot. I don’t even want to talk about the plot that lot because it’s obvious that Sarah is a genius when it comes to creating a great story. Everything seemed pretty reasonable, a lot of plot twists and a cliffhanger in the very end only confirms that Sarah is a brilliant writer. She managed to entwine difficult history of faes world with an intense romance and thrilling, action-filled plot, so there was no minute when I felt bored or annoyed. Speaking of Sarah’s writting, I really loved it because some sentences or even words felt like poetry for me.

“There were no doors. No lights. No sounds. Not even a trickle of water. But I could feel them. I could feel them sleeping, pacing, running hands and claws over the other side of the walls.”

Her writing style is something that I would call painterly. You can take any episode you wish, or even any sentence, and paint an artwork of it. I, myself, got plenty of ideas for my own drawings, so I can call ACOMAF a source of inspiration.

“FEYRE.” The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it.

So, the last thing I really adore is that ACOTAR and ACOMAF both have an art as their main subject. I really like that Feyre is an artist, it makes her very unique, but I also like that Sarah managed not to write her books, but more to paint them. Colours and shapes and textures, it feels like I held an art piece in my hands.

“To the stars who listen―and the dreams that are answered.”

“Rhys still knelt, wings drooping across the white sheets, head bowed, his tattoos stark against his golden skin. A dark, fallen prince.”

Someone wrote me that ACOTAR feels like prologue now when we have ACOMAF and it truly does. Not because of those 600 pages, but the improvement Sarah did, the amount of events and characters and amazing development. It felt like ACOMAF was the real story of human child Feyre.

“So I’m your huntress and thief?” His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, “You are my salvation, Feyre.”

Ah, and just because there are too many quotes I loved, here is one more:

“He thinks he’ll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him,” I said quietly, opening the door,” that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key.” I shrugged. “He was the one who let me out.”