#cultures in prythian

[briaberri]

Dreamy Dawn 2: I imagine that credit to the radiantly enlightened and ever poised sophisticate that Thesan is, he sponsors guilds of several masteries: painting, literature, classical dance, architecture, music, landscaping. In addition to his unparalleled healers schools, the guilds tour Dawn Court villages, especially as gifts to the peregrine guard based across the mountainous realm.

[bookbitchx]

"There is no such thing as High Lady."

Call Tamlin a misogynistic sexist asshole or whatever else you want, but he's right.

High Lady is a title Rhysand gave to Feyre.

It's honorary.

It wasn't 'earned'. She wasn't 'blessed' with it, and she certainly wasn't chosen by the land and the magic.

If there was a title and it meant something, don't you think Viviane, of all women, would've been granted it by the lands for holding down the fort in Winter Court for 50 years while Kalias was stuck UTM?

Kalias could've also easily slapped the title on her like Rhysand did with Feyre, and yet he didn't. You know why? Because Viviane doesn't need it. She's already respected and seen as his equal by his court and the others for what she has done.

Feyre can't say the same, can she?

SJM sets it up as this badass moment of empowerment, but all I saw was Rhysand giving a baby (by Fae years) a title and letting her run loose with it as well as letting it go to her head.

The first thing she did after getting that title was go and get revenge on a whole ass court because she had issues with its High Lord which is insane in of itself but it brings me to my point, that there was no political repercussions where as if Rhysand had done it, it would've declared an internal war between Night and Spring.

It would've been a good ass arc if she had learned Prythian politics, history, diplomacy, the cultures, and customs of the other courts, including her own, so much as visited the other courts, slowly climbed the ranks and learned instead of Rhysand shoving that crown on her head and down everyone else's throats.

It's like taking me, a complete clueless, inadequate foreigner, and making me the Queen of England. Utterly ridiculous.

"You just hate Feyre being High Lady because you want Nesta to be one."

The same thing goes for Nesta, babe. NONE of the Archeron sisters are qualified to be High Ladies, honorary or not.

One of the hills I will die and kill on.

[1800naveen]

SJM fans who go "It's just fiction." when you point out a flaw in her writing are a pain in the ass. When a author wants to write about fantasy, they'll take things from REAL LIFE to put into their stories. There are authors out there who will write their ideologies into their books and SJM is one of them.

Feyre dismantling the spring court out of petty revenge? Colonization.

The inner circle not allowing ANYONE from hewn city to enter Velaris and if they did, they would be treated horribly? Segregation.

SJM describing her POC as not striking, not beautiful compared to her main characters? Racism.

Hybern being based on Ireland and Prythian being based on Britian? The portrayal and demonization of Celtic culture? Do you know what the other name for anti-Irish sentiment is? Hibernophobia. That is a one letter difference.

"Hybern's geography closely resembles that of Ireland, while Pryhtian resembles Britain. Sarah J. Maas took inspiration from both countries to create the two locations." That's from the trivia section of the wiki page for Hybern.

The fae enslaving humans for hundreds of years? And Rhys has the audacity to say both sides are wrong.

I AM NOT AT FAULT FOR POINTING OUT THESE KIND OF THINGS. FANTASY CAN BE AND IS A REFLECTION OF REAL LIFE!

[sarahs-library]

Forgotten: Pretty Eyes

"You have such pretty eyes," Azriel's thumb dragged your lower lip down, his husky baritone stoked the fire of arousal coursing in your veins. "I can't wait to see you looking up at me, with my cock in your mouth."

A/N - Forgotten is giving me serious writer's block right now, so here's a little smutty snippet from the same universe before the story begins. You aren't together yet, the bond has snapped for Azriel but you remain blissfully unaware. Also I love the idea of meddling Nesta. This is also my first time publishing any smut, so hopefully it doesn't seem as cringey to you as it did to me re-reading it.

Word count: 4704

Warnings: Smut

Forgotten Part One ☪ Part Two ☪ Part Three

Your POV

Settled into the plush leather couch, you pulled the blanket up to your chin, creating a cozy nest for yourself. You balanced the book Nesta had given you on your lap, the worn cover a familiar weight against your skin. The floral sundress you wore fluttered around your legs, exposing the delicate skin of your knees, which you instinctively tucked beneath the warm embrace of the blanket. Once comfortable, you flipped open the hardcover to read the synopsis inlaid on the first page and snorted. Gratuitous smut, that much was predictable. But the story revolved around fated mates who couldn’t stay away from each other, despite every glaringly obvious reason to. Her recent recommendations had all centered on this theme, which you found puzzling. You couldn’t understand the Fae’s obsession with them, or Nesta’s for that matter.

Sure, you understood the religious aspect, most cultures had deities or worshipped magic in some form. Prythian’s Mother was no different in your eyes from the innumerable nameless gods you’d encountered in your travels over the years. But even so, the Fae's sanctification of basic biology was unique. You cleared your throat and looked up.

“Excuse me? House?” It felt strange, to address an inanimate object. You hadn’t quite believed Nesta when she first told you the House was sentient, a byproduct of her cauldron-made power. But it had seen to your needs enough over the last few months, often without prompting, that you’d found yourself creating a tentative relationship with it. “Do you have another book for me? Nesta’s been recommending so many of these, I’d rather read something different.” A moment later, a small pile of books dropped onto the table next to you. You thanked the House as you reached for the top book on the pile.

A God cursed to remain locked in his mountain hold until his soulmate frees him…You stopped reading with a frown, setting the book aside with the other before taking the next one. And then the next. You reached the end of the pile, all books about soulmates or fated mates or love pairs. Maybe the House had misunderstood you. You gathered the books up again, this time placing the one Nesta had lent you at the top of the pile and addressed the House again.

“Sorry, I meant do you have anything different than a romance? Maybe something with a bit of action and adventure?” The pile didn’t vanish, no other books appeared either. You waited for a few seconds. “House?” You knew it was close with Nesta, perhaps you’d offended it by inadvertently insulting her reading tastes.

You considered getting up from the comfy nest you’d created in the sitting room to go to the library and pick something off the shelves yourself. You eyed the book at the top of the pile again and sighed. Grabbing it you cracked open to the first page. Only then did the pile vanish, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. In its place stood a glass filled with fruity, fizzing pink wine from the Summer Court. It knew that you preferred it to the heartier reds more commonly found in the Night Court. You thanked the House and took a sip from the wine glass before turning your attention to the book propped open against your knees.

A dull pain in your neck drew you from sleep. Your dry eyes adjusted to the low lighting as you began to sit up. You groaned and massaged the sore muscles in your neck and shoulder, cursing yourself for falling asleep in such an awkward position. The book, still open at the last page you were reading, slipped from your lap and hit the floor with a dull thud. Fae light housed in a dark glass shade flickered to life on the table next to your empty wine glass. Freeing the blanket from where it was tangled between your legs, you bent to retrieve the book from the floor. The hand you reached out stopped shy of the cover, the tips of your fingers brushing against the shadows that teeming it, burrowing under the pages.  

They didn’t shy away from your touch. Instead, they pushed the book across the floor into your open hand. You grasped at the leather-bound spine, cool shadows curling between your fingers and sliding up the back of your hand.

“Thank you.” You inclined your head and righted yourself on the sofa, expecting them to disperse in search of their master.

“Don’t tell me you’ve joined Nesta’s smutty book club too.” Reflectively you gripped the book tighter as the voice came from behind you. After months of living together at the House, you were beginning to be able to decipher Azriel’s moods. Smooth, dark, and low his tone of voice rarely gave away what he was feeling. But the slight elongation of some vowels and the emphasis on the word smutty told you he was amused. A delicate flush rose on your cheeks, and you resolved not to look at him.         

“I mostly go for the wine. But Nesta said this was one of her favourites, though I’m not sure why.” The shadows that had helped you retrieve the book began to climb up over the edge of the sofa, to investigate further as you held it in your lap. You could feel him inching closer behind you, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Satisfied with their investigation, or at whatever silent command Azriel gave them, the shadows began to return to his side. You were unsure of how cognizant they were. As one of them brushed against the soft skin of your thigh, exposed from where your dress had ridden up, you wondered if it was intentional. You were glad to not see his face. Not while his shadows snitched to him about the colour dusting your cheeks and the very long, very explicit description of the mating frenzy between the main characters you’d been reading before you fell asleep.

“Too tame for you, sweetheart?” You’d been playing this game for weeks now. Glances that lingered a hair too long to be appropriate. Comments that bordered on suggestive but still gave plausible deniability. Any excuse to touch, to feel the other’s skin as you passed a dish at family dinner or assisted Azriel with demonstrations for the priestesses.

And you hated it, the effect he had on you. You knew, somewhere deep inside in a place you didn’t want to acknowledge, that he was part of the reason you’d taken advantage of Rhys’ hospitality. Why you hadn’t been itching to leave, to find another place after you landed unceremoniously, bleeding and half-conscious, in the Night Court all those months ago.

You sighed. “No, it’s not that.” Azriel was standing directly behind you now. When you took your next breath his scent, night-chilled mist and cedar, filled your nose. “I know she and Cassian are disgustingly in love, but I’d prefer her to give me at least one recommendation that doesn’t revolve and two people finding out they are mates, and then fucking for the next 100 pages.”

Azriel made a low, humming sound. Not in agreement, but in consideration of what you said. You thought he was going to speak, grace you with a sarcastic remark. Instead, he leaned over the back of the sofa. His face was so perilously close to your neck that you could feel the hot breath he exhaled, as he plucked the open book from your lap. He retreated as quickly as he’d come; you instinctively turned, reaching one hand up to stabilise yourself against the plush leather.

His hazel eyes met yours, and the triumphant smirk he gave you ignited both irritation and something primal. Held aloft in one hand, he lifted the book to his eyeline as the shadows flicked swiftly through the pages. Landing on the passage he wanted, he began to read aloud.           

“His manhood was hot and hard and thick with lust. He pounded into her rough and ready, their gasps puffing in the air, steam rising off their skin.” Your cheeks flushed deeper. You hauled yourself up the back of the sofa, resting on your knees, attempting to use the leverage to lessen the advantage his greater height gave him. Reaching out, you tried to snatch the book from his grasp only for him to move it away just as your fingers brushed against the cover. He took a half-step back, still within arm’s length but not close enough for you to reach without losing your balance.

Azriel arched a brow, eyes alight with thinly veiled amusement as he took in your flushed face. You noticed the way they strayed, just for a moment, following the path of your exposed neck down towards your chest. A traitorous part of you preened under the attention of his gaze. Instinct prompted you to press the advantage he’d unwittingly given you, using the moment of his distraction to vault over the back of the sofa and close the distance between you. Azriel’s wings flared behind him, but he didn’t retreat from the sudden proximity, even as your hand reached up to grasp the book over his own.

Dragging his eyes away from you, he feigned nonchalance as he continued to skim the pages of the book. You realised your mistake then, calf muscles straining to keep your weight steady as you stood frozen on arched feet. His eyes didn’t leave the page even as his other hand came up to rest on your hip. The fabric of your dress felt dangerously thin as the warmth from his palm and slightly splayed fingers seeped through. Thin enough to feel the callouses on the finger that skimmed tantalisingly close to the edge of your underwear.

“The male says such filthy things.” He allowed you to pull the book down but didn’t relinquish his grip. Hazel eyes met yours, darkened even in the fae light. Slowly lowering your weight back onto the balls of your feet, you held his gaze. You were acutely aware of how little space was left between the two of you. Cool shadows brushed against the bare skin of your legs, catching on the hem of your dress and skirting at your waist. The breath you inhaled, made ragged by the proximity, filled your lungs with Azriel’s scent. Lust fogged your thoughts, quietening the voice in your mind that warned you of the precipice you teetered on. Even through the haze, you recognised there would be no going back, not once you acted on this.

“Do you like it when your lovers speak to you like this, sweetheart?” His voice, guttural and slow, seemed to speak directly to the embers now burning within you. He edged closer, enough that the fabric of your dress brushed against the scaled leather on his chest. You backed away, even as you felt your body react, but kept your eyes trained on Azriel’s face. His shadows returned to him, agitating a breeze that carried the unmistakable scent of your arousal. Azriel inhaled deeply, savouring it like a man half-drowned. His gaze became predatory as he prowled closer to you.

You felt the brush of cool leather against the heated skin of your back and the curve of your buttocks. He stepped closer, muscular arms brushing your waist on either side as he rested his hands on the sofa, caging you in. You held his gaze, even as he lowered his face close enough that your breath mingled. You tried to grasp at something, formulate a scathing remark that would disseminate the tension, that would allow you to step out of this room with your friendship still intact. All you could focus on was how easy it would be to reach up, tangle your fingers into Azriel’s hair, and bring his face down to close the distance between your lips. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk and he feigned closing the distance, tilting his head before passing over your mouth and whispering in your ear.  

“You haven’t answered my question.” His breath danced over the shell of your ear, and you fought against the urge to arch your back and press yourself into his chest. His lips ghosted over the skin of your neck as he traced the curve down to where it met your collarbone.

“My preferences regarding lovers are of no concern to you.” He stilled against you.

“Is that so?” The words caressed your skin, drawled and meant to provoke as he made the return journey back towards your lips. You managed a breathy affirmation, even as he trailed fire in his wake. The barest of touches, feeding your desire for more of them, more of him. You didn’t notice the hand until his palm slid up to rest on the side of your neck, gripping your jaw between scarred fingers and thumb. His grip was firm as he pulled back to look at you.  

“Such lies from such a sweet, little mouth.” His thumb stroked a path up, sweeping across your plump lower lip. You parted them on instinct. Lust-darkened eyes met your own, and a moment of clarity passed between you both. One that spoke of more than just base needs or primal instincts. Hiding in his eyes was a promise of more. Something that neither of you were ready to address just yet.

"You have such pretty eyes," Azriel's thumb dragged your lower lip down, his husky baritone stoked the fire of arousal coursing in your veins. "I can't wait to see you looking up at me, with my cock in your mouth." His other hand moved to your hip as he trailed his thumb down, palm splayed as he traced your jaw; your neck to where the cut of your dress lay at the valley between your breasts. He toyed with the edge before moving his hand to trace down your other side, thumb brushing the underside of the swell of flesh you desperately wanted him to pay more attention to.

His grip tightened for a moment at your waist before he hoisted you into the air. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement before he perched you precariously on the edge of the back of the sofa. The increased height made your face almost level with his, something that Azriel took full advantage of as he captured your lips with his own. Your hands moved to steady yourself on his broad shoulders, fingernails digging into the leather as you swept your tongue against his bottom lip. You opened your thighs in invitation, Azriel stepped closer so that your chest was flush with his. His hips settled between your legs; your thighs clenched on either side as he deepened the kiss. His skilled tongue stroked against your own as you moaned, breathing heavily through your nose.

His fingers tangled into your hair, pulling it aside as his other hand moved down from your waist to trace a path under your dress against the smooth skin of your inner thigh. His mouth left yours, moving to capture the soft skin of your neck, lathing his tongue against it in between delicate bites as his fingers slid higher on your thigh. You rolled your hips, trying to coax him as his fingertips grazed lace. You slid your hands over his shoulders, finding purchase as you pulled him closer. You felt him smile against your neck as he trailed kisses lower, freeing his hand from your hair, as he pulled the delicate fabric of your dress down roughly to expose your chest. You barely registered the sound of it tearing as one hand came up to clasp your breast, thumb running over the peaked nipple as he bent further to capture the other between his lips.

You groaned as he continued to nip and suckle and bite at the pert bud, hazel eyes observed your through dark lashes as you arched into him, bringing one hand up to tangle into his dark locks. He groaned against your skin as you pulled at it, moaning his name in between panted breaths.

“Fuck, Az. Please…” he sucked hard on the nipple caught between his lips, releasing it with an obscene pop and a parting flick of his tongue against the tip.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His mouth moved to capture the nipple under the ministrations of his thumb, the callouses rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin. Words died on the tip of your tongue as the fingers dancing beneath your skirt finally brushed against sodden fabric, rubbing against the slick folds of your pussy. He grunted in approval as he continued to probe, pushing a finger into your aching hole as much as the lace would allow. You moved your hand from his shoulder, taking advantage of his bent position to trace two knuckles against the dark membrane of a wing.

Azriel’s growl was feral as he bucked his hips. His mouth left your breast to kiss up your neck, teeth scratching against the pulse thrumming at your jugular.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a wicked, wicked tease?” His lips once again met your own in a rough, opened-mouthed kiss. You purposely dragged your knuckles back over his wing, it flared out under your touch as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. You pulled back, your lip catching before he released you. He stared at you, panting and pupils blown wide. You smirked as you put your hand back on his shoulder, resolving to explore the sensitive expanse of his wings further another time. You trailed your fingers down, feeling the hard expanse of muscles on his chest and abdomen before settling on the strings of his leather breeches.   

“I may have heard something like that before.” You pulled at the knot, struggling to undo it with just one hand. Azriel’s hand left your breast, placing it over your own to still the movements. You furrowed your brow, questioning him with a gaze as he made no move to help.

“There’s something I need to do first.” He stepped back, moving out of your reach as you planted your hands on either side of the sofa to steady yourself. His wings flared for balance as he slowly lowered himself to one knee, then the other, maintaining eye contact with you as his hands slid under your dress. Tracing up to your hips he caught hold of the lace of your panties, slowly pulling them over your thighs and past your knees to drop over your bare feet onto the floor. His eyes never left yours as he rucked the thin skirt up to your waist, leaving you panting and exposed under his gaze. His eyes trailed down slowly as if committing the sight of you to memory, taking special note of the flush on your neck and chest, littered with a constellation of bruises he had sucked onto your skin. Lower still, until his gaze came to rest between your legs, fixated on the way your cunt glistened in the fae light.

“I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of this.” He ran the back of his hand down the side of your thigh as you opened your legs wider for him to nestle his shoulders between your knees. “Of how you taste, what you’d look like underneath me, the sounds you’d make when you cum for me.” He made sure to catch your gaze again as he lowered his mouth towards your slick folds. The hand that wasn't tracing your thigh moved to part your lips as his tongue delves between them. He moaned against you at that first taste. Dragging his tongue in a long sensual stroke up, barely brushing the edge of your clit before returning to tease at your entrance. Biting your lip your hands found his hair, wrenching him closer as you slid your knees over his shoulders. He cupped your arse, rough fingers digging into supple flesh as he fucked you with his tongue. Languid strokes that brushed his nose against your clit every time he pushed in deeper.

You moaned, grinding against his face, the hand not tangled in his hair circled at your nipple still coated in his saliva. His tongue slid up through the wetness to toy with your clit, circling dangerously around the edges before he caught it between his lips, suckling on it hard. You cried out his name at the delicious pressure, bordering on pain, his eyes watching you through dark lashes as you writhe and grind against him. He releases your clit, pulling back after a small gentle parting lick.

“Look at you.” His thumb moves up to trace your clit. He looked debauched, lips swollen and pink, chin soaked with your pleasure. “Such a pretty little cunt.” His thumb slides down through your wetness as he teases it through your puffy folds. “So wet for me, just begging to be fucked.” You felt your pussy clench as he traced past the hole, dipping further down in between your cheeks to toy with the wetness around the puckered ring of muscle there. He returned torturously slowly to where you needed him most, before plunging one finger deep inside of you. You moaned at the intrusion as he curled his finger up, rubbing purposely against the sensitive wall before pulling out. He added another finger to the first, inserting them at the same glacial pace, finally looking away from your face as he watched your walls stretch to accommodate his thick fingers. It wasn’t enough, you needed more of him.

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his hair. “Please Az, I need more. I need…” You trailed off as another finger slid into your tight hole, the pace still slow as he watched you grind your hips against his hand, trying to fuck his fingers deeper and faster into you.

“Whatever my beautiful-“He stopped himself, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, eyes on your face again. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” And with that promise, he lowered his mouth to your cunt again. The speed of his fingers increased, fucking into you with abandon as he caught your clit between his lips once more, licking and sucking, dragging his teeth gently over the sensitive nerves. He skilfully brought you to the precipice of your release, alternating between curling his fingers and lathing his tongue against your clit before slowing down. You keened, undulating your hips against his face and hand. Shadows bled out the sofa, fixing your hips down as he continued to tease.

“I need to see you cum for me.” He growled against you before pressing himself deeper into your folds. Your legs shook as his fingers fucked you harder, as his mouth latched onto your clit with a hard suck. His hazel eyes were fixed on your face, watching as you climbed towards your peak. Your grip tightened on his hair as your release built. Until finally, it snapped. Sending you careening toward the most exquisite bliss you had experienced in your immortal life.

“Azriel! Oh Gods…” Your legs shifted on his shoulders as your muscles clenched under your release, trapping his head between your thighs. He continued to lick and suck you gently as you came down from your pleasure, fingers moving at a more leisurely pace now as he watched you, eyes filled with lust and awe. You relaxed slowly under his ministrations, enough to begin to bring you towards pleasure again despite how oversensitive your nerves felt. You unhooked your legs from his shoulders as you moved your hands towards them, pulling as his leathers. He released you from his mouth, pulling his fingers out and admiring the wetness left on his hand rolling down towards his wrist. He rose, allowing you to capture his face between your hands in a searing kiss. You groaned at the taste of it, both of you mingled together on the tongue he stroked slowly against yours.

Moving your hands down you broke the kiss, nestling into his neck and tracing the dark marks of his tattoos with your tongue. Under both your hands the knot holding his leathers closed came away easily. You pushed your fingers under the tight band, grazing the head of his cock with your thumb. Azriel panted into your shoulder, his grip on your waist tight as you continued to tease the head, rubbing circles slick with pre-cum into the sensitive skin.

Azriel became rigid under your touch. You pulled away from his neck, from marking him with bruises similar to the ones on your own, to look at his face. A dark tendril curled around his ear, whispering to the shadowsinger. His face darkened and he let out a vicious curse, pulling away from you and turning his attention towards the foyer.

You could hear footsteps now, heading in your direction. Azriel was a picture, rock hard against his leathers, hair a mess from where you’d carted your fingers through it, full lips swollen and red. You looked down at yourself, bare breasts peeking through the ripped fabric of your dress, skirt rucked up still baring your cunt to the room.

“Y/N! I know you’re here. You’re keeping us all waiting.” Nesta was in the hallway now, heading towards the only way in or out of the sitting room. You slipped off the back of the sofa, righting your dress and trying to pull the ripped fabric of the bodice closed with little success. Azriel’s eyes had turned calculating, all trace of lingering lust gone as he ran through possible ways to get you both out of this situation. If you were anywhere else, he could have winnowed you away. You cursed whichever of Rhys predecessors put such stringent security measures on the House to a painful eternity in Hel.

Shadows moved to open the large windows next to the fireplace to let in a breeze, biting cold and pushed through the room as Azriel’s siphons glowed. A fire started to burn, smoking more than normal, its acrid smell filling your nose. Azriel gestured to the sofa, the blanket still coiled on the seats.

“Get under.” You moved quickly, throwing yourself down as you used the blanket to cover up your ruined dress and bruises. Azriel strode toward the window, taking one glance back as you tried to settle yourself before he slipped out into the sky and the fading light. You rested your head against the cool arm of the leather, bringing your legs under the blanket as you feigned sleep.

Nesta’s footsteps stopped at the threshold of the open door.

“Y/N.”

You let out a low groan, stretching as you pretended to drag yourself from sleep. You rose so only your face was visible over the back of the sofa, blanket clutched to your chest as you took in Nesta standing in the doorway. Her silver eyes scanned your face as her nose wrinkled at the smell of the poorly burning fire.

“You’re late.” Silver burned in the eyes she fixed on you, angered at the perceived social slight.

“I’m sorry, I was reading. Must have fallen asleep.” Your heart pounded as she assessed you. You hoped she’d put it down to the shock of being rudely woken rather than your anxiety at being almost caught.

“Everyone’s waiting in the library, let’s go.” You nodded in agreement, mind whirring as you tried to figure out a way out of the room, out of your ruined clothes with the reek of arousal still clinging to your skin, without raising any suspicions.

“I’ll um, meet you there. I just want to quickly freshen up and grab the book from my room.” Nesta’s eyes scanned you, before inclining her head and turning to leave.

“Five minutes,” she ordered as she left, “or we’ll start without you.” You collapsed back into the sofa, relief flooding your veins as you tried to calm your breathing. You hadn’t noticed the way her eyes had fixed on the dark lace half-hidden underneath the sofa before she left.

Thank you for reading, to everyone who asked to be added to the tag-list I think I've included everyone I can but some blogs I couldn't tag so apologies if that's yours.

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[stxrvel]

tis the damn season

a season of sadness wanted to come to an end. 'tis the damn season and you thought maybe you could go home and live with your mate the way it was meant to be…

pairing: azriel x f!reader

wc: +3.5k

warnings: pure angst, cuss words and slight (or light? soft?) unprotected (wrap it up) smut. no happy ending, sorry

note: hi guys! :)- i wrote and published this one some time ago, but i deleted it because it was poorly received and that disappointed me a bit. but now that i was able to read it again, i feel it's a good job and that should be enough for me. i hope you guys like it :). see u next time!

Azriel was your mate. You had known for a couple of months. He knew it long before that, too. The bond snapped first for him, but he never tried to get close to you. You didn't know if it was out of fear or if he never agreed with what was chosen for the two of you by the Cauldron. 

Likewise, you never had time to ask. The battle against the King of Hybern almost cost you your life. You didn't know what things had been done outside of your consciousness to keep you alive, you didn't know what boundaries Rhysand had crossed to bring you back to life, and you never wanted to ask either. You never asked anything, living in that ignorance gave you a sense of peace you didn't want to get rid of. 

But things were never the same after that. From the day you woke up, everything felt different. During that time, you didn't allow yourself much time to delve into what the recent bond between you and Azriel meant, and he always agreed to give you your time. 

However, one day, out of nowhere, it all became too overwhelming. And you decided to run away.

You never said anything to anyone, and you closed the door so Azriel couldn't feel you. You knew it must've been painful for everyone, especially your mate, but being with all of them after everything that had happened was unbearable. You lived under a constant reminder of suffering, violence and blood. You couldn't stop seeing your hands full of blood every time you closed your eyes, guilty for the lives they had taken as if you had had any right to do so, but having to know daily that it was all justified. Velaris and the permanence of the rest of Prythian justified it.

So, you went far away, to the other side of the world, to the east. To the Continent. 

And life was not easy at all. You knew Azriel wasn't having a good time. After a while, the wall you both had built around the bond was beginning to crack and his emotions were seeping through those tiny cracks. You could sometimes feel his sadness, his pain… his anger. After a couple of minutes of heartbreaking grief, the pangs of anger would appear. You could tell what he was going through and, selflessly, you tried to think that your decision was for the best. 

Rhysand wrote to you almost daily. Paper with his handwriting constantly appeared around you and, although you never answered him, he always made it a point to let you know everything that was going on in Velaris. 

The first few days were the hardest. 

There was a heavy snowfall on the Continent when you arrived, something that had never been more than a welcome, tearing at your skin. The cold was so deadly and the gales so lethal that you couldn't leave the apartment you were renting for a whole week. Apparently, at that time, that was normal. The cold that fogged up the windows, that froze your limbs, and that made all signs of life disappear. 

Where are you? Azriel is very worried

Please, answer me 

Y/N 

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU???? 

Cassian and Azriel are flying over Velaris. Can you just tell me, please? 

Y/N, we are very worried. Please.

Please.

You had a lot of tugging on your bond from Azriel. You could feel his desperation even through the walls of silence. Those were difficult days. The cold days were not comforting at all. 

However, as the months passed, with the cultural difference and the harshness of reality outside of the family you had known for as long as you had memories, so many hundreds of years ago, you gave in to Rhysand's wishes to return to Velaris on the night of the Starfall.

And that night… well, you hadn't told anyone you were going. 

But as you expected, Azriel was the first to know you were there. 

You heard the flutter of his wings before you saw him, towering in the moonlight against the dim lighting in the city in anticipation of the biggest celebration of the year. He stumbled as he fell, being one of the few times you had seen him unable to control his strength, staggering with his feet and hands to get to a safe distance from you. His breathing was rapid, almost erratic and his eyes were bright, crystallized. The stirring movement in your chest brought tears to your eyes. 

Azriel was there in front of you from the moment he had the slight feeling, because he knew the bond wasn't wrong. And his gaze reflected everything. Everything he wanted to say and everything he preferred to keep silent. You had never felt so strongly the need to be close to him; you hadn't even accepted the bond, but you felt as if you had just done it. His eyes roamed the features of your face, his expression contracting as if he was slowly processing that you were really there in front of him. 

You saw him raise one of his hands, the hands that had so often held you in the darkness and through the sadness. If you focused really well, you could almost notice how his body trembled at the closeness, with anticipation, just as your body shuddered at his presence. 

The effects of the bond were powerful. But that hadn't been what made you fall in love with him. 

Azriel took a tentative step forward, reaching out his hands as if in a trance, seeking to touch you to make sure it was really you in front of him and not some kind of hallucination. Your voice stopped him on his feet. 

“Hello, Azriel,” you could barely speak, that suffocating feeling of being close tightening your throat. His eyes moved quickly back to yours and watered once more, his breathing quickening again. You didn't know what you had awakened in him just by speaking to him once more after so long without seeing him, but it must've been the same thing that ignited in your body when he spoke. 

“Y/N,” he elongated your name, like a plea or a prayer, you weren't sure. Electricity coursed through your body in a matter of seconds and you felt your feet move before you could stop them. The emotion rising in your chest matched your mate's expression, nostalgic because it had been so many months since you had last been so close and yet more pained and suffering because you had been the reason all that pain now surrounded you both. 

You stopped just inches away from him, your hands itching with the need to touch him, to feel him close, to once again have that warmth that would warm and thaw your soul. His huge, beautiful wings were taut behind him, being that all his attention was focused on your every move. You saw him hold his breath as you approached, struggling hard to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” you whispered the question, the air stealing your confidence, perhaps feeling a little silly and embarrassed about it. Suddenly, you felt too small under his gaze. 

“Okay?” the change in his voice was hardly imperceptible, sending shivers throughout your body, the panic of fear making its way into your chest, the bond tightening as if both ends were being pulled at the same time. “You left for a year without telling anyone. We went months without knowing if you were okay. I couldn't… I couldn't… feel you.” 

His voice became shaky, each word brimming with a tinge of suppressed anger. 

“Do you think I'm anything close to okay?” 

Yes, it was a stupid question. The knot in your chest grew rapidly, the back of your throat burning with pent-up tears. 

“I can't even enjoy the relief of seeing you now because… I'm so angry.” 

“I know…” you barely mumbled, lowering your head. How could you look him in the eye? Why did you think you had the right to go back as if nothing had happened? It was clear that things weren't going to be like they were before. You weren't sure about the others, but it seemed you had taken some of Azriel with you by disappearing like that. Proud you weren't of your actions, but you didn't know how to explain to his shattered features and cheeks wet with tears that, at that moment, you believed it was the right thing to do. 

The tears in his eyes prompted your own and you sobbed unable to contain the feeling. You tried to regain your composure, because you had no right to show such sadness when you had created it all. But Azriel was faster and you didn't even manage to put your hands under your eyes when his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. His wings also surrounded you and, although you had hardly noticed it because of the darkness, you felt his shadows dance around your feet. 

The warmth of his body was automatically welcome. How many times had you imagined that scene in your cold bed on the Continent, all alone and devastated from time to time, with memories invading your mind. Not many times did you regret your decision, except when you thought of Azriel. 

He sobbed too, his hands tightening on your arms, as if he was afraid to let you go again. He probably was. 

“I don't understand what made you think you'd be better off away from us… away from me, but I'm sorry.” 

His words surprised you, but a flood of feelings greeted you from the other end of the bond as Azriel let go and you couldn't think too hard. Crying swirled in the back of your throat. The level of pain and sadness that your mate was handling and had hidden from you for so long was so uncontainable that you almost doubled over, leaning over Azriel's body as you felt it rushing through you. 

“I thought you needed space. I know what happened with Hybern was too much for you and I didn't want to overwhelm you. But if I had known that decision would've made you decide you'd be better off away from me…” Azriel gulped, his voice full of feeling breaking off between words. “If I had known I promise you it would've been different.” 

You couldn't believe Azriel was telling you that. And the feelings coming from his end through the bond confirmed it to you. Azriel felt guilty about your departure. From moment one, when the panic and fear dissipated, Azriel never stopped feeling that it had been his responsibility that you decided to leave. And he couldn't have been more wrong. You loved him, had loved him long before the bond appeared, but the things that happened after Hybern, that affected you, had nothing to do with him. 

“Azriel…” 

“I'm supposed to be your mate. I'm supposed to support you, help you when you're down. I don't understand how I could fail at that. I'm sorry,” his voice was muffled as he spoke with his face hidden in your neck. At no time did he let go of you and his wings kept you warm. At that moment, that was home. 

“I promise it's not your fault,” you managed to speak, your face pressed against his chest. 

“I was supposed to be with you, accompanying you, but I-” 

“Azriel, you didn't do anything wrong,” you fought against his tight grip so you could look him in the eyes and the tears running down his cheeks broke your heart once again. 

“Then why did you leave?” 

You didn't have an answer for that and Azriel realized it when your lips pursed. He sighed, as best he could, and drew you back into his arms. Maybe he didn't need an answer at that moment, just having you by his side was more than enough. 

With the others it wasn't much easier. 

Rhysand and Feyre almost wept at your feet. Cassian, on the other hand, didn't hide it and deliberately filled your shoulder with tears and saliva. Mor lifted you into the air and almost didn't let you escape when Azriel started begging her to let you go already. Everyone cried. Possibly even Feyre's sisters shed a tear or two. 

You felt calm for a while. Complete, as if you were back in that house, in that home, before Amarantha and Hybern destroyed everything for you. 

But things couldn't be perfect. After the Starfall, you began to feel that anxiety again. Azriel could only tell by your body language, because you still kept your end of the bond completely closed to him and he couldn't feel the swirl of emotions coursing through your body. You had barely had time to get used to the familiarity of the situation when all the memories came flooding back. Perhaps you had blocked them out during your absence living on the Continent, you weren't sure, but the cries of war began to haunt you from the back of your mind. 

Azriel's shadows were also restless and that was another way he could tell something was going on. He was almost glued to your side all night, watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stepped away to talk to some friends. He never let you out of his sight. You knew where this behavior was coming from, but it never occurred to you to comment on it at any time. 

So, by that time, Azriel knew what was going on and you were sure you couldn't escape him. When he approached you and extended his hand in silent invitation, with the sound of conversations and drinks in the back of your head, you almost didn't hesitate to take it. His darkness enveloped you and, within seconds, you appeared in your room at the Town House. The party was now an imperceptible murmur. 

“Would you like to rest?” Azriel spoke, after spending several seconds standing facing each other. One of his hands ran over your face barely perfunctorily, but the warm sensation ignited too many things in your body. He arranged the strands of your hair that hid your face behind your ears with delicate, almost invisible movements. 

You only moved your head in response, up and down, under his watchful gaze. 

He almost crawled away, moving to your old bed that didn't have the same sheets as when you left. In fact, when you took a quick glance around the room, it looked too neat considering the amount of time that, presumably, no one used it. 

You shrunk at the thought of Azriel coming in regularly to clean it. 

With crystallized eyes you watched him move the comforter to make way for the clean white sheets waiting to be used once again after so long. 

Azriel turned to look at you, expectant. You didn't know if he was waiting for you to move to lie down or to ask him to leave so you could change into comfortable pajamas, but you did neither. Not when the emotions in your chest moved you, when they were more uncontainable now that you shared your mate's. Not when he opened up to you in such a vulnerable way, when he let you know that which for so long he kept to himself. Not when he gave you to understand that he was always waiting for you, even though it hurt him terribly that you had decided to spend all that time alone. 

So, for some reason, whether it was feelings or rationality, you approached him. You let yourself be carried away by nostalgia, by the silent desires of your heart, and you approached your mate with long strides. 

His expression went from neutral to confused as you got closer and you only remembered seeing it turn to surprise when you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him. 

It was rough and awkward at first, because your mate was completely transfixed for a few seconds. Maybe out of anxiety you counted ten. But, whether he was born from the same place as you or not, Azriel melted under your touch and as soon as he came to his senses he was kissing you back. It was just the kiss of an unaccepted bond, of a separated couple who held too many melancholy memories in their chests to bear on their own. 

Azriel wrapped his strong arms around your waist and bent his head to kiss you more deeply. You could feel the desperation and desire hovering tentatively in his demeanor, but he held back to give you a sweet, soft kiss; a kiss that said welcome, a kiss that urged you to stay by your side and never be separated from him again, a kiss that made you wonder why you had left in the first place. 

The softness of his movements were a direct contrast to your own. You cradled his face tightly, moving your lips over his as if second nature. Then you circled his neck, pressing him against you as if somehow you could hold him that much closer. You wanted him closer. 

But Azriel broke away, breathing in and out between gasps, and looked up at you with dark, glowing eyes. 

“Do you want this?” 

His hands on your skin burned. 

“Yes,” you answered quickly and tried to move closer again to kiss him, but he broke away again. 

“And are you going to stay after this?” 

Your eyes met his worried expression, thinly disguised. Ever since he'd opened his end of the bond for you, shedding any obstacle on his part that wouldn't allow him to feel you, everything you'd seen from him had been genuine. So you knew that concern was genuine and the mere conception generated pain in your heart. 

“I will stay,” you assured him, forcing your lips into a tight smile. 

Azriel studied your face trying to convince himself of your words, for he was an expert at knowing your body language, and you had no idea what he saw that convinced him and led him to pounce on your mouth once more. 

When the lightness settled into the bond, you were thankful you had never lowered your wall. Guilt suffocated you. 

But you kissed him back and followed your heart's desires, if only for one night. 

Azriel moved his hands along every curve of your body before removing your dress. If you hadn't stopped his movements, he would've surely ripped it off. His eyes followed every part his hands had explored and then his lips were on every inch of skin. Against the soft mattress and with your wrists held by his hands, you could only sigh and moan slightly at the way he explored your body. And yes, Azriel took his time. 

Before long there wasn't a single cloth separating the two of you and your mate simply couldn't keep his hands and lips still. Not that he wanted to, either. You moved your hands along his back, trying to avoid his wings, and moving your lips down his neck when he would let you because it seemed like all he wanted to do was eat you up with kisses. 

It wasn't long before he had you panting against him, with the sound of bodies colliding being the only thing your head could process at that moment. The tingling that coursed through your body was like no other you had ever felt; the wonders Azriel was doing with your body were unparalleled. He was panting too and every time he met your eyes it seemed to you that they were darker than the last time, but he never stopped holding you at any moment, never stopped hugging you as if his whole life depended on it. Maybe it did. 

The feel of his body against yours was indescribable, the movement and rhythm almost unbearable. You had never felt pleasure even remotely close to what he was making you feel at that moment. 

“Azriel…” you moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly, burying your nails as if it were your only stability. 

He cursed between gasps, increasing the pace and the force with which he held your waist. 

You were never going to get to touch the sky like you did that night, that much was clear. Even though your head was split in two, you looked into his eyes as you went through the most shattering, sweeping orgasm you'd ever had, reveling in the sounds that came from his mouth as he followed you to paradise. 

You thought it was going to be hard afterwards, but you fell asleep almost instantly. 

When you opened your eyes again, your mate's arms and legs were wrapped around your body and one of his wings was covering your nakedness and keeping you warm. You were facing him, chest to chest, and just looking at his peaceful sleeping face made you want to cry. Life was here, next to him, why couldn't you accept that? 

Getting out of bed without waking him up was quite a battle. Not as much as it was to sit at the foot of the bed, watching him rest, completely unaware of what would await him when he woke up. This time you were being selfish, you knew it, it was too cruel. But in your head there was nothing but disaster, pain disguised as stability. You couldn't have a good life with Azriel now and you didn't know if you could bear to see him to tell him after you promised to stay. You shouldn't have told him that, but how could you tell him otherwise? Maybe if he woke up at that moment you would stay… maybe that's why you sat there for so long. 

But finally you left, just like last time, in the middle of the silence, with his shadows following your feet and trying to keep you company. You felt a deja-vu as you stood in front of the door, thinking about how on both occasions you were thinking about what would happen if someone showed up to stop you. 

It didn't, in either case, and you knew the next day the exact moment when Azriel realized you had done it once again. He didn't try to hide his pain, he didn't have to, you deserved to know how you had made him feel. 

On the ship, on the way to the Continent, you fell to your knees as his pain stole your breath. 

[merwgue]

The portrayal of the Night Court in the A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas is one of contrasts. On the surface, it appears to be a bastion of freedom, justice, and equality, particularly in the city of Velaris, which is often depicted as a utopia, protected from the horrors of the world. However, this glossy exterior hides the deeply autocratic, oppressive systems in place in other parts of the Night Court, particularly in Hewn City and Illyria. When compared to the other courts in Prythian—especially the Autumn Court—the Night Court’s supposed “freedom” becomes suspect. In reality, it operates much like a dictatorship, cloaked in the false narrative of equality and liberation. This deceptive governance is comparable to the division of Berlin during the Cold War, where the West thrived under democratic principles while the East suffered under a repressive regime. Likewise, while Velaris prospers, the other regions of the Night Court endure systematic abuse and oppression, with little transparency or accountability. Ironically, the Autumn Court, often painted as cruel and harsh, presents a more authentic and straightforward approach to governance. At least the Autumn Court doesn’t hide behind a façade of democracy—it is what it is, without pretenses of liberation.

The Night Court’s False Utopia: Velaris vs. Hewn City

Velaris, often called the "City of Starlight," is repeatedly emphasized as a sanctuary of freedom and safety, where creativity and culture flourish. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, takes pride in shielding Velaris from external threats and from the corrupt politics of the other courts. On the surface, it seems like a dream: the inhabitants live freely, without the threat of violence or oppression, and they enjoy the benefits of Rhysand’s protective, yet benevolent rule. But, as with many dictatorships throughout history, the paradise of Velaris exists because of the sacrifices and subjugation of others.

Hewn City, often referred to as the Court of Nightmares, serves as the dark underbelly of the Night Court. While Velaris thrives, Hewn City languishes under a system of abuse, exploitation, and terror. The inhabitants of Hewn City are ruled through fear and cruelty, and women, in particular, suffer in this system. They have no rights or means to escape the oppressive confines of their city. Even Morrigan, one of Rhysand’s closest allies, admits that Hewn City is a "hell for women." The people there are not granted the same freedoms or protections as those in Velaris, and they are actively barred from entering the so-called “City of Starlight.” This two-tiered system, where one part of the court is free and the other is enslaved, mirrors totalitarian regimes in history, where a privileged elite enjoys all the benefits of the system, while the oppressed majority suffers in silence.

This segregation brings to mind the division of Berlin during the Cold War. West Berlin was the image of prosperity, freedom, and opportunity, much like Velaris. However, East Berlin, like Hewn City, was a place of oppression, suffering, and control. The illusion of unity within the Night Court, just as in Cold War Berlin, masks the reality of systemic oppression. Rhysand presents himself as a liberator, much like many leaders of totalitarian regimes do. However, his rule over the Night Court is based on a contradiction: he preaches freedom and equality, but only for those fortunate enough to live in Velaris. The rest of his court is controlled through fear, coercion, and subjugation.

Illyria: A Military Regime Under the Night Court

In addition to Hewn City, the treatment of the Illyrians further underscores the autocratic nature of the Night Court. The Illyrian warriors, though valued for their strength in battle, are treated as little more than tools for Rhysand’s military ambitions. Their entire culture is built around combat, and while Rhysand claims to want to reform the oppressive practices within Illyria—such as the clipping of female Illyrians’ wings—he does little to actually enforce change.

The female Illyrians, in particular, suffer grievously under this regime. Despite Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s claims of valuing equality, they have failed to stop the heinous practice of wing clipping, which leaves female Illyrians crippled and without agency. The Night Court’s inaction in the face of these abuses mirrors real-world dictatorships, where leaders proclaim lofty ideals of reform but do little to actually improve the lives of the oppressed. The Illyrians, much like the inhabitants of Hewn City, are kept in a state of subjugation, while Rhysand and his circle continue to thrive in Velaris, free from the consequences of their own policies.

Rhysand’s Autocratic Rule

While Rhysand is often praised by both characters in the series and fans for his progressive values and the freedom he offers to those in his inner circle, his governance bears all the hallmarks of a dictatorship. He wields absolute power over the Night Court, making unilateral decisions without any input from the people he rules. There are no democratic processes in place, no checks on his authority. Even the members of his Inner Circle, who seem to have a voice, ultimately serve at his pleasure. Rhysand’s rule is absolute, and any dissent within the Night Court is quickly quashed.

His treatment of Tamlin in A Court of Frost and Starlight and A Court of Silver Flames further demonstrates his authoritarian tendencies. Rhysand repeatedly invades the Spring Court, trespassing on Tamlin’s land and undermining his authority. In a real-world context, these actions would be seen as violations of sovereignty and could lead to serious diplomatic consequences. Furthermore, Rhysand’s psychological manipulation of Tamlin, particularly his cruel suggestion that Tamlin should kill himself, reveals the depth of his callousness. This is not the behavior of a benevolent ruler—it is the behavior of a dictator who will stop at nothing to maintain his power and control, even if it means destroying the mental well-being of a rival.

The Autumn Court: Brutal, but Honest

In contrast to the Night Court’s deceptive veneer of freedom, the Autumn Court, ruled by Beron, is presented as a brutal but straightforward regime. The Autumn Court does not pretend to be a land of equality or justice. Beron’s rule is harsh, and the court is rife with intrigue and betrayal. However, the Autumn Court does not hide behind false promises of liberation. Its inhabitants know what to expect, and the court’s politics, while cruel, are transparent.

In many ways, this brutal honesty makes the Autumn Court a more genuine form of governance than the Night Court. Beron does not pretend to be a benevolent ruler, nor does he claim to value freedom or equality. The Autumn Court is harsh, but it does not dress up its brutality in the guise of progressive ideals. In this sense, it is a more authentic regime, unencumbered by the hypocrisy that pervades the Night Court.

False Advertising and the Dangers of Illusion

The Night Court’s portrayal as a beacon of freedom is, in many ways, false advertising. By allowing Velaris to serve as the shining example of his court while neglecting the suffering in Hewn City and Illyria, Rhysand perpetuates a dangerous illusion. This illusion allows him to maintain his power without facing the consequences of his autocratic rule. It also obscures the real, systemic problems within his court, making it difficult for any real change to occur.

In the real world, dictatorships often rely on similar tactics. They present a false image of prosperity and freedom, while behind the scenes, they suppress dissent, abuse their citizens, and maintain power through fear and control. The Night Court, far from being the progressive utopia it claims to be, operates much like these regimes. Its leader, Rhysand, may present himself as a liberator, but in reality, his rule is just as oppressive as that of Beron or Tamlin—perhaps even more so, because it is hidden behind a façade of freedom.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the Night Court is not the utopia it pretends to be. Like the divided Berlin of the Cold War, it is a court of stark contrasts, where a privileged few enjoy freedom and prosperity while the majority suffer under oppressive regimes. Velaris may be a city of starlight, but Hewn City and Illyria are plunged into darkness. Rhysand’s rule is not one of liberation, but of control, and the supposed “freedom” of the Night Court is nothing more than a carefully constructed illusion. In contrast, the Autumn Court, while brutal, is at least honest about its nature. In the end, it is this honesty that makes the Autumn Court a more transparent—if not more just—regime than the Night Court.

[officialrhysandweek]

Rhysand Week 2024 Prompts!

art by arz28

Sunday 8/18: Day One

Adolescence: Rhysand grew up with a loving Illyrian mother and as far as we know, a cold, distant High Fae father. His half Illyrian heritage lead for an interesting childhood growing up in the camps. Let's use day 1 to explore our High Lords youth! What was he like as a child? What was it like growing up alongside Cassian and Azriel?

Monday 8/19: Day Two

Carynthian: One out of only a handful of Illyrian warriors to win the Blood Rite and walk away with the title "Carynthian", he is one of the best warriors on Prythian. His Carynthian title is the counterpart to his title of High Lord, and is one of the highest honors in his Illyrian culture.

Tuesday 8/20: Day Three

Loved Ones: From his fallen mother and sister to his brothers Azriel and Cassian, his cousin Morrigan, his mentor Amren, and his mate and son Feyre Archeron and Nyx, Rhysand is surrounded by loved ones both lost and found. How does his relationship with them change over time? What was his relationship like with his mother and sister? How did he and his friends mourn them?

Wednesday 8/21: Day Four

Lord of Night: The Night Court is the most polarizing and scandalous court in Prythian, and he serves as its Lord. There's both beauty and darkness in the Night Court and as one of its leaders Rhysand must navigate these things. How does he do it? What does it truly mean to be the Lord of Night?

Thursday 8/22: Day Five

Survivor: Brutal training in the Illyrian camps as a child, weeks of torture at Amarantha's hands during the war 500 years ago, 50 years trapped Under the Mountain, and even more that we humble readers likely haven't even gotten to read about. Rhysand is a survior through and through, how does it shape him? Is there anything you imagine he's survived that we haven't gotten to look at?

Friday 8/23: Day Six

Worlds Axis: "This was not a male to be fucked with. None of these people were, but this one... Authority rippled off him. As if he was the entire axis of this place." Hybern, Amarantha, the Prison and Dusk, Fionn, the cauldron... The key players of this world surround our High Lord and him and his family are always the ones to make the first move. Why is the magic of this world so drawn to him? What wonders does Rhysand have in store for us in future books?

Saturday 8/24: Day Seven

Free Day: Give us Rhysand or give us death! Show us all your Rhys ideas, the sky is your limit!

Please feel encouraged to take as much or as little inspiration from the prompts as you would like when creating your posts! Last years guidelines still apply so please consider checking those out. Let us know if you have any questions!

[lainalit]

I saw Feyre Stan's claim that Feyre is the chosen high lady of the night court because of the kernel of magic Rhysand gave her in the first book since she could revitalize him in Acowar. 

So in this hypothetical scenario of Rhysand dying in Acowar, she would have been chosen by the land as the new high lady of the night court. But what would have happened if, for example, Beron died in Acowar and Feyre was chosen as the next Autumn Court high lady since she has the kernel of him and every other high lord?

This would bring a whole new problem into the mix that Tamlin already addressed in Acomaf in a sense, but the fandom and the narrative dismissed that Feyre would be hunted, not because of her powers per se but because she could snatch up the high lord's titles from the different high lord's family lines without ever being a citizen of their court, not knowing their costumes, their culture, their traditions, etc.

It could make feyre High Queen of Prythian in a literal sense, and as this is Sjm, we talk about who already has colonizer remarks from her supposed hero characters in both Acotar and her other book series. I wouldn't be surprised if she would go that round. 

Also since nobody, including Sjm bc she literally admitted to not outlining her books and writing based on vibes, knows how any of this stuff is going to work out. 

It brings more problems within the already contracting and retconned world building of the series if feyre's high lady title isn't a formality.

[kopfkino-o]

Ok so I don't know if I'll be able to describe this correctly. But let me at least take a crack at it.

I'm not pro-Elriel because the couple, per say, I'm pro-Elriel because the story we'd get from an Azriel x Elain pairing. Stay with me, this is pro-Elriel, I promise.

I just find an Elriel, and thus a rejected mates, storyline so damn compelling.

In a narrative world so shrouded in prophecy, fate, and destiny, I love the idea of exploring what happens when a character decides to defy said destiny. When they decide that the path they forge for themselves, and all the good and bad that might come with it, is the path they want to walk.

Exploring a love story where two people choose to defy Fate, to defy what is essentially their religion, and choose to be together is so fucking powerful.

And so far, Elain's character has been so wonderfully written for this sort of narrative. The passive, docile, people-pleaser standing against fate itself in the name of love, who finally finds her voice and decides what she wants for her damn self, even if it goes against everything she’s been taught to believe.

Elain, whose life has largely been decided for her, who is a people-pleaser and prone to putting the wants of others above her own self, being the one to break what's perceived as the biggest blessing in Fae culture for Azriel. Azriel who has never been chosen, who has never felt he's worthy of love or goodness.

Like, for me, if Elain were to accept the bond, it would feel like a regression in her character's growth. She'd be doing what the Cauldron essentially wanted. She'd be doing the "right" thing in the eyes of Fae society. She'd be giving in to the pressures that stem from her Court and the alliances she knows her mating bond is helping to maintain. Her accepting the bond wouldn't mean Elain is growing. In my mind, it would mean she's laying down and deciding that she, in fact, has no autonomy or desire to do anything but what's expected of her.

And I just don't think that's as compelling of a story! Not just because I want her with Azriel. If she came out of the Cauldron as Azriel's mate, but had chemistry and potential for an epic love with Lucien or another character she'd reject the bond for, then that's the ship I'd be down for!

It's the story I want more than the endgame couple. I want the drama that comes with a rejected mating bond. I want to explore the lore behind the bonds. I want to see a different type of love story. I want to explore what it means to defy fate and the Cauldron and societal expectations in the world of Prythian.

I want to see what it means to find a love that trumps even a mating bond.

[ysmtttty]

Neris week: headcanons

@nerisweek

• Nesta has cold hands. She loves getting her hands under Eris’s shirt since his body is a live heater. He doesn’t mind, he likes to hold her hands and warm them up, always saying she needs a better coat. And he does buy her a new coat.

• They both are clueless on how to express their love. So they both are like… ‘unfuck you??? I guess???’ at first. Eris’s display of affection is also buying her everything he thinks she will like. Jewelry, dresses, flowers. He can winnow throughout all Prythian, visit every court just to find the best things. Nesta’s one is that she joins Elain’s baking lessons with Nuala and Cerridwen, making him sweets.

• They both were surprised about each other’s sweet tooth. Eris now hires the best bakers in Prythian so Nesta will always have the best chocolate cake. Even though he will always say that anything she bakes will be ten times better. Nesta doesn’t bake often, it’s not her thing, but once in a while she does enjoy doing that for her and Eris.

• Once Eris tried to bake a chocolate cake himself. He was embarrassingly bad at that. He prefers not to recall that evening

• Nesta is clueless about most of fae stuff. So Eris always has something to explain. He explains very patiently and never shames her for lack of knowledge about anything.

• Eris takes her on a tour around Prythian to introduce her to different courts’ cultures. Nesta buys small souvenirs from every court to remember about the visits.

• His hounds LOVE Nesta. From the first time they saw her, they’d been charmed! Eris was kinda perplexed because never once his hounds were THAT friendly to a stranger. Nesta says it was others’ skill issue. She loves to spoil his hounds. Eris grumbles that she makes them too soft for hunting hounds.

• Whenever they argue the hounds are like children of divorce. Because they have to take sides. There are some who vary their side from time to time, and there are some hounds that always go to Nesta and some that always go to Eris. Because sometimes when they argue they sleep separately and hounds go to their beds, keeping them company.

• Whenever they argue too badly, hounds do not like that at all and tug on their clothes, pulling them closer to each other and barking at them as if saying go apologize!!

• They both freak out when Nesta gets pregnant. Not because they don’t want a child. They do. Very much so. But they both are very worried about possible mirroring their abusive parents’ behavior. Nesta reminds Eris he is not his father; Eris reminds Nesta she is not her mother. They both become the most loving parents.

• LoA adores Nesta, they often have tea parties. Eris is offended he never invited to one. They say it’s girls only. Soon it becomes tea party with LoA, Nesta and Elain where LoA always tell some embarrassing stories about Eris and Lucien — they both are mortified.

• Eris learned how to dance because it was a good training for his body, and it was a good skill for political events. He never dislike it, but never truly loved it either. Then he danced with Nesta and started liking dancing more.

• Nesta arranges girls nights very often. Eris always gives her the full manor in her access and leaves for the night to a different estate, not wanting to interrupt her personal time with friends. They both need their time separate from each other, they are also mature enough to talk about it, so they have a schedule.

• Eris likes making schedules. For everything. Nesta says he’s weird, often messing with his physical schedules, writing there something silly or drawing something on them. Eris secretly likes that.

• Eris teaches her how to light the sword with fire. He thinks he might create a monster by that. Because Nesta with silver flamed sword? Unhinged!! The first thing she does is she goes to scare big bats. She giggles evilly when she does.

• Nesta once left her book open on the nightstand. Saying Eris was flabbergasted would be understatement. He asks about that directly and Nesta blushes. He then offers to recreate a few certain scenes that he oh so accidentally already read. Nesta blushes more. Nesta agrees.

• Once in a while they recommend books to each other.

• Nesta gets a cat. And if they both were worried hounds will scare the poor thing off, they didn’t. Instead, the little kitten became their leader. And as she turned into a big cat, the hounds are kinda scared of her. Nesta always laughs about that. Eris says it’s because she and the cat share the same eyes.

• Eris is touch starved at first. He clings to her as much as even possible. Cuddles in bed, hugging her from behind whenever she stands her back to him, holding hands whenever they can.

• Sometimes Feyre asks Nesta to look after Nyx, so the boy stays in their manor. Eris calls him ‘it’ and refuses to even acknowledge that little pest at first. He has constant beef with him for Nesta’s attention bc apparently Nesta is Nyx’s favorite auntie. Eris secretly likes Nyx but will never admit that. Instead he will just silently give the boy the most expensive chocolate he has and shoo him away. Nyx once calls him his favorite uncle in front of everyone. Cassian has heart attack.

[msbrownwithacrown]

I'm re-reading acofas. And in all honesty, Rhysand in the initial chapters comes off as an indulgently sweet version of himself. I mean, SJM really poured that sugar. He says he won't break into the Ilyrian leaders' minds and force them to do things because apparently, there are lines he won't cross...although he was conviently able to cross those lines in previous books. He genuinely seems to disapprove of the treatment of females in Ilyrian culture.

But on the other hand, he still is the same frat-bat boy Rhys, because he's concerned about the dissent happening in the camps, but didn't really take any accountability for the fact that he caused that dissent. (Let's see... sent a great portion of their men to the front lines of the Hybern and Cauldron War, after being released he hunted down and killed factions that followed Amarantha, despite the fact that according to this standard he also should have been hunted down from his own *fake* involvement with her.)

Also, he wants to improve things, but in true frat-bat boy style, he's gotta get outta there so he can go be buried deep in Feyre and fantasize about flying over the city of Velaris while having sex... again.

In this retconned hellscape, there's so many gaps. If he truly is this self-sacrificing martyr for the greater good, who finds a city like Velaris, why has he not shared that with the other factions of his court , and even beyond that. In 500 years, the male couldn't promote the idea of Velaris with other courts? He kept the rest of Prythian and the Human worlds in the dark ages because...he wanted to carry on the intimidation of the Court of Nightmares?

Honestly, if I were Lucien, with a background in diplomacy and embassy, I would have been pissed at seeing Velaris and seeing the lie they held for centuries. The lack of collaboration that was offered to the other courts. The fear they inflicted. The lack of communication. It would be like seeing the Capitol in Hunger Games, but knowing about District 12.

[bright-side20]

Azriel /Shadowsinger;Starborn

I wanted to write about why I believe Az has a secret starborn lineage ever since Hofas was released, so here it is:

Acomaf : “Like the daemati,” Rhys said to me, “shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can’t.”

Rhys compared Daemati to the shadowsingers because they're both rare.

Hofas: My story begins before I was born." The female's voice was heavy-weary. Tired and sad. "During a time I know of only from my mother's stories, my father's memories." She lifted a finger to the space between her brows. "Both of them showed me once, mind-to-mind. So I shall show you."

Thea and Fionn were Daemati, so it's a power of the Dusk Court people.

Hosab: Night haired Helena, from whose golden skin poured starlight and shadows Hofas : My mother eventually trusted only Helena and myself to seek the truth. She knew we could be of great use to her, because we bore the shadows as well as starlight. We spent a month hidden in the enemy's stronghold, no more than shadows ourselves. By the time we returned to our mother, we'd learned the truth.

Helena and Silene both possessed the power of shadows, they worked as spies because of it. Light and shadows are the power of the Dusk.

Conclusion :Both Daemati and Shadowsingers are Dusk Court people's powers, and they are rare in Prythian because most of them left for Midgard.

Acofas: Though the cobalt Siphons were proof that his Illyrian heritage ran true, even the rich lore of that warrior-people, my warrior-people, did not have an explanation for where the shadowsinger gifts came from. They certainly weren’t connected to the Siphons, to the raw killing power most Illyrians possessed and channeled through the stones to keep from destroying everything in its path. Azriel nodded his agreement, his shadows twining around him. Most of the camp women had ducked into their homes when he’d appeared. A rare visit from the shadowsinger. Both myth and terror. Az looked just as displeased to be here, but he’d come when I asked.

The Illyrians have absolutely no idea where Azriel's power came from. It's not related to their own magic, and he's even somewhat of a myth to them. I think if his power came from a special Illyrian lineage like Enalius, they would know, given their attachment to their culture and history.

*Shadows nature and abilities :

I'll start with Bryce comparing Azriel's shadows to Cormac's shadows:

Hofas:

Azriel, without Rhysand to translate, watched in silence. Bryce could have sworn shadows wreathed him, like Ruhn's, yet... wilder. The way Cormac's had been.

And then Az admitting that it's a magical power:

The shadows are made of magic, just very condensed.

Hosab,Cormac :

“You can teleport,” Bryce said, voice low..... Well, that explained how he’d shown up at Ruhn’s house party.... Once he’d had them, he’d simply walked right out of a shadow in the doorway.

“Where did you inherit the ability from?” Cormac squared his shoulders, every inch the proud prince as he said, “It was once a gift of the Starborn."

And then back to Hosab, Cormac says that his ability to winnow is because he's Starborn. We also know that Azriel can winnow through shadows, which could be attributed to his secret Fae lineage.

_Also There are similarities between Cormac's father, the twins' power, and Az's power :

Hofas: Shadows whispered over Morven's broad shoulders, trailing off his scaled armor. "He was a defiant boy. I thought I'd beaten it out of him long ago." Acomaf: It was an effort not to stare at Azriel as he watched them head up the steep street, arm in arm and bickering with every step. The shadows gathered around his shoulders, like they were indeed whispering to him, shielding him, perhaps.

The shadows talk to Morven just like they talk to Azriel.

Hofas: The twins opted to live. A shield of shadows slammed against the reaching spears of lightning. It was all Bryce needed to see before she burst into motion.

Acowar : “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Perhaps those shadows that now slid and eddied around the shadowsinger hid him from the wrath of the binding magic. The others made no move to interfere, as if wondering the same.

The Twins' shadows were able to shield them from Hunt's Lightning just like the shadows shielded Azriel in the High Lords meeting, and nobody understood how it was possible.

*Last but not least :

About the troves :

Nesta stiffened. “If they’re all enchanting you to forget, how is it that Azriel was able to remember and bear the information here?” “Perhaps once you learn of it, recognize it, the spell is broken,” Amren said

Azriel was the one who brought the information about the troves . I think it could simply be because he's Starborn, so he has the ability to still remember them.

And of course, the last thing is him being able to wield the Starsword:

The male now held the Starsword at the ready, Truth-Teller gripped in his other hand.He must have had some sort of Starborn blood in him, then-a distant ancestor, maybe. Or maybe his possession of the knife somehow allowed him to also bear the Starsword.

After Hunt's daddies issues, I know that she could make Az somehow special, Illyrian-made, but I think this makes more sense and is more interesting: we know that his father is an Illyrian lord, but we don't know anything about his mother. Perhaps she could be a half-breed, he would still look like a full Illyrian but with a special power from his Fae lineage.

[yennas-stuff]

I can't wait to read an acotar book from the perspective of a person who has been to other courts and doesn't act solely in favor of one of them. Someone who has friends and connections in many places.

Someone who thinks about the repercussions of actions on Prythian as a whole. Someone who has valuable insight into culture, customs, and traditions of other courts.

Someone who also considers the human side of the world and who spent time to fully understand and befriend them and set his prejudices aside.

People who don't see the value of having Lucien as a male leading character don't want the world of acotar to be more complex and rich. They are content to just stay in one place and see sjm's world from only one quite biased perspective. There is a chance to work more on world building and to make it more fantasy romance than just romance with a fantasy background.

I personally would see it as a missed opportunity if we stayed in the Night Court for the next books.

[roseadleyn]

anyways i read the acotar series and it's the most godawful, horrendously written piece of ya fiction ever and the portrayal of faeries is downright disgusting cause babe those aren't faeries those are just really pretty people who you gave magic and slapped some cool features and called it a day. your know what ACTUAL fae are??? terrifying. otherworldly. ethereal. they break humans norms in a other-species way not should-be-a-convicted-felon way. look at holly black's books. the cruel prince portrayed fae so well, they were terrifying, they were ethereal, their disdain for humans was so well expressed not just left over racism from a 500 year old war and it was also wonderful fae love story because cardan and jude — actually screw it that essay will have to wait and rhys and feyre can't be on jurdan's level if they tried — but my point is that her portrayal of fae is just... immortal humans and then everyone hypes her world building up... BABE WHAT WORLD BUILDING. WHERE. the courts are never expanded on. do they have separate languages? religions? cultures? what does their traditional clothing look like? what does their traditional music sound like? what are their folktales? and i get it it's tricky to expand on this for seven courts but like we don't even know this about the night court or the spring court aside from a few dancing scenes and a few events. like aside from the solstices and starfall, what other events do they have? do they have any at all ( they should cause fae adore revels)? i just can't there's so much wasted potential in acotar it makes me mad

and all the lesser fae < high fae + prythian resembling britain and hybern resembling ireland ( honest to god this is creepy ) + extreme misogyny that is never fixed and the main male leads being misogynists themselves + women of color are plain and not as pretty as white women + the infantilization of pregnant women and reproductive abuse + the fucking faerie segregation that happened when hewn city civilians couldn't get into or access services from velaris... like i could go on and on. but i despise the series except for the first book because it's such goals, even if it had errors and i only even read all the way till the end cause 1) i just... kept hoping it'd get better (it didn't) 2) queen nesta archeron and my bbg lucien

so uh in short to everyone who recommended me acotar i don't trust you anymore

[merwgue]

Feyre, as the protagonist of the ACOTAR series, has committed numerous actions that could be considered criminal under real-world laws. Below is a breakdown of the crimes she could potentially be charged for, based on actions from each book, and the possible legal repercussions.

1. A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR)

1.1. Poaching and Trespassing

Crime: Killing a faerie in the form of a wolf while on Prythian territory without permission.

Real-World Equivalent: Illegal hunting (poaching) and trespassing on private property.

Potential Sentence:

Poaching: 1-5 years, fines depending on the severity.

Trespassing: Usually a misdemeanor, resulting in fines or up to 1 year in jail.

1.2. Complicity in the Death of Faeries Under the Mountain

Crime: Indirect involvement in the deaths of faeries during the trials set by Amarantha, even though she was coerced.

Real-World Equivalent: Manslaughter (unintentional but contributing to the deaths through participation).

Potential Sentence: 5-15 years, though her coercion and duress could mitigate this significantly.

---

2. A Court of Mist and Fury (ACOMAF)

2.1. Trespassing in the Spring Court

Crime: Entering and leaving the Spring Court without permission after forming ties with the Night Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Unauthorized entry onto sovereign territory.

Potential Sentence: Generally a misdemeanor, but with repeated offenses, it could escalate. Fines or up to 1 year in jail.

2.2. Destruction of Property (Spring Court)

Crime: Sabotaging and destroying part of the Spring Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Vandalism and destruction of property.

Potential Sentence: 1-10 years depending on the extent of damage, with potential fines or restitution.

2.3. Theft (Spring Court)

Crime: Stealing important information, documents, and assets from the Spring Court while pretending to be loyal to Tamlin.

Real-World Equivalent: Theft and espionage.

Potential Sentence: 5-15 years, depending on the value of what was stolen and its strategic importance.

2.4. Theft of a Magical Artifact (Summer Court)

Crime: Stealing Tarquin’s most powerful artifact, the Book of Breathings, from the Summer Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Grand larceny, theft of national/cultural treasures.

Potential Sentence: 10-20 years depending on the value and importance of the stolen artifact, including diplomatic consequences.

2.5. Involuntary Manslaughter (Tithe Refusal)

Crime: Refusing to enforce the Spring Court’s tithe, resulting in the death of the water-wraiths who depended on Feyre’s mercy.

Real-World Equivalent: Negligent homicide or involuntary manslaughter.

Potential Sentence: 5-10 years depending on the circumstances, though mitigating factors like lack of intent could reduce the sentence.

---

3. A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR)

3.1. Destruction of the Spring Court

Crime: Deliberately dismantling the political and economic systems of the Spring Court while acting as a spy for the Night Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Treason (though technically not against her homeland) or acts of war.

Potential Sentence: Life imprisonment or death penalty in certain jurisdictions, though a less extreme punishment could be 20-40 years for treason and sabotage.

3.2. Collusion and Espionage

Crime: Spying for the Night Court while pretending to align with the Spring Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Espionage.

Potential Sentence: 10-25 years for espionage, with potential fines and loss of any titles/rights in the Spring Court.

3.3. Accessory to Murder (Hybern Soldiers and the King of Hybern)

Crime: Being involved in the war efforts that led to the deaths of Hybern soldiers and the King of Hybern.

Real-World Equivalent: Accessory to murder or war crimes.

Potential Sentence: 15-30 years for accessory to murder, though wartime actions are often handled differently.

3.4. Imprisonment and Oppression of Illyrians and Hewn City

Crime: Complicity in the continued oppression of the Illyrians, including the mutilation of female Illyrians’ wings (although Feyre was not directly involved in wing clipping, her role in the Night Court hierarchy ties her to this systemic abuse).

Real-World Equivalent: Human rights violations, gender-based violence, illegal confinement.

Potential Sentence: 20-50 years for complicity in human rights abuses and gender-based violence.

Crime: Complicity in the continued imprisonment and oppression of the people of Hewn City, preventing their access to the privileges of Velaris and escaping abuse.

Real-World Equivalent: Conspiracy to perpetuate systemic discrimination and abuse.

Potential Sentence: 10-30 years, depending on the level of abuse and confinement they are subjected to.

4. A Court of Frost and Starlight (ACOFAS)

4.1. Illegal Occupation of Spring Court Lands

Crime: Continually crossing into Spring Court land and occupying or disrupting its governance, even in a non-violent way.

Real-World Equivalent: Trespassing, illegal occupation.

Potential Sentence: Fines, probation, or up to 1 year in jail.

5. A Court of Silver Flames (ACOSF)

5.1. Complicity in Abuse (Locking Nesta in the House of Wind)

Crime: Participating in the forced confinement of Nesta, who was struggling with mental illness, without a licensed mental health professional’s involvement.

Real-World Equivalent: Kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, endangerment of a mentally ill person.

Potential Sentence: 5-20 years, with charges depending on the level of harm caused to Nesta and whether it could be deemed abusive.

Summary of Potential Charges

1. Poaching and Trespassing: 1-5 years, fines

2. Manslaughter (Under the Mountain): 5-15 years

3. Trespassing in the Spring Court: Up to 1 year

4. Destruction of Property (Spring Court): 1-10 years

5. Theft (Spring Court): 5-15 years

6. Theft of the Book of Breathings (Summer Court): 10-20 years

7. Involuntary Manslaughter (Tithe Refusal): 5-10 years

8. Destruction of Spring Court: 20-40 years

9. Espionage: 10-25 years

10. Accessory to Murder (War Crimes): 15-30 years

11. Imprisonment and Oppression of Illyrians: 20-50 years

12. Complicity in the Oppression of Hewn City: 10-30 years

13. Illegal Occupation of Spring Court Lands: Fines, up to 1 year

14. Unlawful Imprisonment (Nesta): 5-20 years

Total Potential Sentence

If Feyre were to face all charges and be convicted, the total potential prison sentence could range from 122 years to life imprisonment, especially for the severe charges related to espionage, human rights abuses, and complicity in oppression.

[litnerdwrites]

I want to talk about the Valkyries

So, I love the Valkyries. Their friendship is everything, and frankly, the best part of the series. However, I've never really liked the idea of them being warriors, and I want to hear some thoughts and opinions on that.

It all comes down to this single sentence; “"There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday."”

To me, Nesta's strength lies in her other skills and abilities. She was raised to marry a Prince, so there's no doubt she's far more educated than most in her station. She proved that she has a good head on her shoulders and heart in her chest when she calculated the cost of evacuating humans from the mortal lands bellow Prythian, which goes beyond the number of ships, mind you.

She'd have to calculate the cost of the ship, the sailors to man them, the cost of security to protect the refugees in case the ships are attacked, which would mean the cost of weapons made of ash (which we know is rare since the fae burned many of the ash trees long ago), the provisions of sailors, provisions for guards, provisions for refugees, medicine for those who are sick or elderly, the time it would take to sail from the continent, load up the ships, and then sail back, etc. It's not easy, and there are a lot of factors to take into consideration, but Nesta did it and presented it to The Mortal Queens, who might have executed them for siding with the fae or even just speaking back to them, with not a single ounce of fear.

Nesta endured her mother's abuse, and didn't let it make her resent Feyre and Elain, instead, fuelling her desire to protect Elain and allow them both to find happiness in their marriages, something which we can presume is rare based on the little information and context we have for the human lands, despite it not necessarily furthering her family, while not bothering to do so for herself.

Nesta won the heart of a duke before even stepping onto the dance floor, had Eris dancing in the palm of her hand, arguably before dancing with him, and her idea to distract The King of Hybern, when Rhys didn't consider it until she brought it up. Nesta united the High Lords. Not Feyre. Not the IC. Nesta. After witnessing her father's death, and having all her trauma come crashing down on her, attended a meeting with strangers, both humans and fae, at her sister's behest, then kept herself together long enough to make it back to Velaris and to her room.

Feyre takes strength and inspiration from Nesta and her steely resolve, in times like The HL meeting.

Within a single year, she forced herself to overcome her fear of bathtubs, alone, while enduring the criticism and verbal abuse of the IC. She endured that nightmare Solstice, dinner parties and other events with them watching her like a circus performer. She endured her so-called mates' abuse and the abuse he allowed his family to show her, leaving her completely alone. Nesta didn't throw herself into the river or try to commit suicide, as far as we know, during this time, and gave everything to keep her head above water.

Let nobody tell you that Nesta Archeron isn't a strong ass woman.

I think this is why her becoming a warrior bothers me. Her courtier and dancing skills are shown to help her thrive in a place like the CON, a place the IC hates and the narrative paints as being full of scheming, evil, deserve to rot in hell, asshole fae nobles. This is a disservice to Nesta's immense talents and skill in navigating these situations. to be exploited, and painted as something that is synonymous with the 'evil' of The CON.

Also, I think that certain parts of the CON's culture is similar to human culture, in some ways. Between that and Nesta telling Bryce about how she's okay with being fae because of immortality, I think SJM is doing a disservice to humanity and it's culture. Nesta's insistence on holding on to her humanity when she points out things like how Solstice isn't a human holiday, or how fae have regard for human custom or manners (twice), and even her modest style of dress is something I love about her character.

I hate how it feels like, that for all Feyre claims both the human and fae lands are her home, she's disregarding her human culture, and Nesta is being forced to as well. Assimilating into fae society doesn't mean that she has to abandon her culture, and I think it would've been great to see more human cultures and customs, even if they didn't have holiday's or religions, being integrated into the IC. Meanwhile, Feyre's only response is to try it, because she might like it, which I think is also incredibly insensitive. Feyre and the IC have essentially indoctrinated Nesta, and wiped her human values and traditions from her life.

Her so-called mate was also the one trying to make her train since ACOWAR, without regard for human customs and how much she values them. It's like none of them care for their human heritage, and want to abandon that piece of her all together. For all he claims to love her and her fire, he doesn't care for where it came from, and who she was before he moulded her into his version of a perfect mate.

Amren is the one who told Nesta that she doesn't have to be a warrior, and that's based on the strength Nesta displayed as part of her human upbringing, implying that, even then, she is strong without the ability to end lives. Yet, she's also one of the strongest advocates for Nesta being forced to train.

If exercise of some kind is what they think she needs, why not dance? Elain is aware of how much Nesta enjoys it, and given her repeated protests about being around Cassian, why not get her a dance teacher, outside the IC, and have her learn dances from different courts or places on the continent? It's something she enjoys, and gives her a chance to learn more about the world out there, while developing many of the skills she's been trained with since birth.

I don't want to hear anything about Nesta 'choosing' to be a warrior. She merely accepted her fate, knowing it was that, or certain death.

Honestly, I think I might have been more okay with the warrior thing, if she wasn't consistently exploited by the IC. Or if I wasn't convinced that Rhysand would treat the Valkyries as an extension of his military.

Speaking of the Valkyries as a whole, I think they have so much potential that's being wasted.

Why must they be warriors? Why not a group of healers, and diplomats, and dancers and explorers, and scientists? Why not have them as a way for Nesta to fulfil her own dream of seeing the world

I've made my stance on Rhysand's so-called attempt at equality in Illyria very clear in this post (where I talk about why Cassian would be the worst father ever), but the gist of it is that throwing women swords, and forcing them to be soldiers isn't equality. Giving them the same opportunities and education to chose to be a warrior, librarian, baker, blacksmith, teacher, merchant or whatever is the start of equality.

That's not to say that they can't be warriors too. It just irks me that it's all they are. That's not to say I dislike all fmcs who become warriors, though I do think that there's an overabundance of them. Why must being a warrior be what defines The Valkyries. I don't see how that makes them different to another military unit, even though Nesta is likely to be the only one expected to act like a real soldier.

The narrative makes Nesta a warrior with her other skills and passions being just a smaller part of her character. I think it should be the other way around. I think she, and The Valkyries, deserve to be more than warriors.

I feel like Emerie would be the only one who'd want to be a full time warrior out of the main three Valkyries. Even then, it's mostly due to how ingrained it is to Illyrian culture.

The concept of Nesta helping the Priestesses heal is perfect for her character, based on what we've seen her do for civilians and victims in the past. This is why I believe The Valkyries would've been more interesting if they took a humanitarian (kind of) approach to things. Helping women who are oppressed, like Illyrian women, or those in The CON, follow their dreams and escape abuse.

The IC call themselves The Court of Dreams, so wouldn't having The Valkyries be the ones to help the underprivileged start on the path to fulfilling their own dreams be poetic? It would give her a chance to travel too, if she went across Prythian or even to The Continent.

Stepping back from The Valkyries for a moment, there are many strong FMCs that aren't warriors at all. Personally, I think Stephenie Garber writes them best.

My favourite Evangeline Fox. I think she's the strongest FMC I've read/watched because her strength comes from her kindness, and belief in true love, even when the world is trying to prove otherwise. She refuses to give up hope for a happily ever after, and fights through impossible odds with her wit and heart alone for her love.

I also love Scarlett's resolve and quick thinking. I honestly think she's a lot like Nesta in some ways, when it comes to protecting her sisters (though I think Feyre is a bit like her at time s too). I'm impressed by the lengths she'd go to for those she loves, and her resolve when she decides that she deserves better than what someone's giving her. I love Donatella's determination, and decision to use other people's low opinions of her, and ideas of her being just another dumb blonde, choosing instead to use it to her advantage and prove them wrong out of spite.

I love Tohru Honda and her resolve to be kind and compassionate to everyone, even those who don't deserve it. She assumes ignorance or accident before malice and continues to strive to be better, for herself and for others. Her kindness and compassion is what inspires others around her.

I love Sophie's resourcefulness and bravery in Howel's Moving Castle.

I love Winter from At The End There Was You, because of how kind and chatty she is. How she choses to believe that the good can outweigh the bad and never stops asking questions or being curious.

Even jumping back to SJM for a moment, I love Bryce, not because she can weald weapons, but because of how resourceful, kind and witty she is. I love how she uses her femininity and others' low opinion of her to her advantage. Yrene was my favourite character in TOG, and I loved Tower of Dawn because of her. Some of my favourite moments with Aelinare when she's being girly with Lysandra. From chatting and sharing chocolates, to playing with Evangeline, or having some form of girl time (most of which are in QOS).

The Valkyries had the potential to be more than just, the now, stereotypical, strong, warrior FMCs.

“"There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday."”

I think this quote should've set the president for The Valkyries. Looking back at this, I think it's less The Valkyries that I dislike and more the fact that they're warriors. I wish it played more into that quote, rather than giving us the same old story about finding strength through fighting. Personally, I think solving disputes between nations through words and dancing, or discovering the cure to sicknesses, or even bridging the gap between two sentient races sharing a world (humans and fae) all while fulfilling your dreams is more impressive than swinging swords around and ending disputes with death.

If there really needed to be some semblance of warrior like training, why not lower the intensity to self defence? Do something like Yrene and start teaching women self defence and educating them in reading, writing and maths. Give them the opportunities to better their lives and create futures for themselves. Make them about empowerment in whatever ways others feel comfortable, not just by becoming warriors.

TLDR: I think the Valkyries, namely Nesta, being warriors, first and foremost, is a disservice to her character and to the strength of women who find empowerment through other means. “"There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday."” is what Amren said in ACOWAR, as quoted by Nesta, and I think that should've set the tone for The Valkyries. The worst part is how her own so-called mate doesn't respect that about her. I do want to hear other thoughts on this matter though. Do being warriors suite The Valkyries? Does it suite Nesta or her story?