#merrill acotar

[iocaisaint]

arguing about looks in a series where everyone is gorgeous is so boring but the prettiest people in canon are Mor, Azriel, Lucien, Gwyn and Merrill let's put the takes to rest

[shadowdaddies]

Merrill from “A Court of Thorns and Roses”

beautiful artwork by honei_atelier on Instagram

[nestastits]

I made one for the males, Helion won☺️

[goddessofwisdom18]

I ship Amren and Merrill 🤭 Just two bitches who love history. They definitely already know each other and had a fling a couple centuries ago. Or they hate each other (and there’s sexual tension underneath that). I’m betting on it.

[yazthebookish]

Gwyn snooping on Merrill 😈

The fact that Gwyn managed to survive this long under someone as demanding as Merrill shows how hardworking she is. Despite Merrill's horrid personality, I love how Gwyn is appreciative of the work she does and how the work gave her focus and motivation to do something.

Commissioned with sarajordan.art

[ramim]

Merrill is a spy and is working for Koschei!

Now this used to be a headcanon but at this point, I have thought so much about it that it seems like canon!

You ask why?

Bcz of this:

Her character was far too explored to be casual; the rest of the priestesses are just a name or in clotho's case, appearance is also described! But Merrill's magic is also mentioned. She can speak to the wind! Who else can speak to the wind? Koschei.

Gwyn is kinda working for Merrill and through Merril's line of research she gives information about Valkyries to Nesta and Emery. So Merrill was working on Valkeris history and methods (who are suspected to be the swans at Koschei's lake) but what else she was working on? Other words! How they are lined up and how you can travel between them! And who is from another world? Koschei!

Koschei's hair are described white, just like Merrill's are.

The only other people who command the wind in Acotar are from Day court (AKA Helion) but Merrill's appearance aren't like what is described to be Day. She is totally different.

She is a bully (ok this one isn't much of a reason but it's true)

The whole fiasco with the blood rite was definitely an inside job!

So considering these very valid points, I believe one unexpected character who is going to play a big part would be Merrill!

And Oh I'd love to see a good female villain!

[fuckyestherest]

Creator Highlight - Week 2

Welcome to our weekly Creator Highlight! 

Every week, we’ll use this space to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use so much of their free time and creative energy to share their work with us and bring our imaginations to life via writing, art, visuals, and many other creative mediums. 

This week we want to highlight @witch-and-her-witcher, the funniest, sweetest, most supportive person with an absolutely limitless knack for writing multiship and rarepair fics. While she is a staple within the fandom for many different and incredibly well-written pairings (check out her Elucien, Nessian, and Feysand works too!), she really lets her talent shine through in her more unique pairings!

In addition to her impeccable writing and amazing ideas, she’s always the first to offer support to others in their creativity. She’s always quick to reblog, comment sweetly, or offer a beta read to friends!

Thank you for sharing your works with us and for always being such a kind, creative, and supportive mutual! 

Below are some of our favorite creations.

The Fawn of Prythian | Elain/Lucien/Azriel

this is me trying | Nesta/Azriel/Cassian

Embers and Mist | Nesta/Eris

Silver Lining and Decode This Case and tell them i’m the worst | Azris

The Wind Whispers | Mor/Merrill

Lay Me On the Cold Dark Earth | Tamlin/Rhysand

You can find more of @witch-and-her-witcher 's works on Ao3 and Masterlist!

If you have someone you'd like to add to the Creator Highlight submission list, drop it in our ask box!

[vigilskeep]

SHE WHAT 😭 what were the characters omg

i mean with all due respect to SJM the one of these men called “fenrys” is not the one you’d think

[acourtofthought]

I'm even more convinced Merill is getting the villain setup and everything she's tied to could lead us in to the new series SJM is writing, especially if it involves world walking.

She's overly connected to many plotlines which could be dangerous if in the wrong hands.

Her leading the priestess services to start. I think she suspects Gwyns song might have power and she's using it to try to locate something (like the Trove) or the location of the Cauldron. The wording used to describe the service "summons, spell, progression, archway " and the songs being sung from the ancient language seem to hint at something mysterious.

In SF we're told the priestesses used a piece of the Cauldron to fuel their gifts giving Merill a reason to search for it, if it's a source of power she can use.

Merill also managed to break the glamour on the Trove items, something that shouldn't be easy to do.

And her research? Other worlds and learning the history of the Valkyrie (I'm curious why she was interested in them)?

When you put those pieces together, it seems like Merill could be plotting something big that would put the safety of their world at risk. And with the reintroduction of the Valkyrie in Silver Flames, SJM could be setting them up to be the defenders of their world, the ones who travel to other worlds to eliminate threats.

SJM placed heavy emphasis on all three girls having a major journey and it's easy to assume she meant outside the library or Illyria but what if she was hinting at the future series?

She even throws in the line about Feyre and Rhys "leaving the world together".

I still think SJM will first resolve the Koschei / Spring / Beron setup but I think Merill will be confirmed as the villain after, moving the focus of the characters to what exists beyond their world.

[shansenfan]

Who ever the artist is who made this. I am telling you that this is my inspiration for Merrill from ACOSF.

Just picture it as instead of the green tones, think of white and purple. And minus the armour (though it is badass)

[fo-cus]

I’m not going to be upset if Feyre is less focused on from now on.

The largest complaint is that she’s now a mother. And yeah I can agree that she’s in the backseat but I’m not really upset about it. First, this is the only instance of a female in any of the series doing this. It’s not as if it happens frequently. And out of all of the women that have been written it makes complete sense that one of them might have interest in a calmer life. That one might want to be a mother. That mirrors real life. Not everyone wants to be constantly in battle. She was seriously fucked up after Under the Mountain.

So what she’s a mom. That is empowering for many women. You want her to just thrust Nyx into some caretakers arms so she can be as involved as you want her to be? You think just because she’s a mom she’s not going to be at least somewhat involved? And even if she wasn’t, wouldn’t raising her child, the heir to the most powerful High Lord and future ruler of the strongest court in the series, be a good reason to step back? It’s her child. Wanting to care for and raise them is not abnormal. Especially after going through such a difficult pregnancy and childbirth experience. Not to mention that if the others leave to fight a war with the Asteri, a ruler needs to remain in the Night court. It cannot be left without order or defenses.

You may not like it but Feyre is not the leading lady right now - Bryce is. And while Feyre will likely contribute, she does not have more knowledge about Prythian history, world walking, the old language, the old gods, etc. then Rhys. She just doesn’t. She has not been Fae for that long.

And bash Aelin all you want. She may not even show up in the crossover. But in my personal opinion she would just have more to contribute than Feyre if she did. That’s not me bashing Feyre, that’s me looking at the context of the books. Wyrdmarks? Aelin. World walking? Aelin. Gates? Aelin. World being conquered by a species from another world? Aelin. Interactions with the gods? Aelin. Shifters in Midgard originating from Erilea? Might be good to have some perspective on that from that version/species of Fae or even just from someone of that world. Points right back to Aelin and her court.

Amren, Rhys, Merrill, and Azriel are going to have the most information. And if we’re blessed with OG TOG characters then it’ll be Aelin.

[gwyns]

I finished watching The Little Mermaid (1989) and I’m even more in my Gwynriel feels! Sebastian, Scuttle, and Flounder are an iconic trio. The dog Max is cute, too. I need Azriel’s shadows to act like the four of them! I want Gwyn to treat his shadows like pets, give them kisses, and maybe mini balls to play with (like cats have). I wonder if Sarah will incorporate some Ariel/Little Mermaid in their book. 🐚🦀

Ursula/Vanessa. I wonder if Merrill will be an antagonist for Gwyn. What if Gwyn makes a bargain to save Azriel and has to give up her voice or something? (Idk if the necklace will be a major thing). What are your theories? My Gwynriel heart can’t wait for their book.💙

yes!!! his shadows being the perfect mix of all of them would be so cute! i can definitely see gwyn treating them as pets and they'd looooove her attention lol. i absolutely love the little ball idea!! super adorable ugh, i need more of gwyn and his shadows <3

i totally think sjm set merrill up as a future antagonist, she has a very specific way of writing villains or future villains, it's usually pretty easy to tell. i'm not sure she'd have gwyn give up her voice or anything, sjm does like to take inspiration from fairytales/myths but it's usually just like... surface level stuff, in my opinion. she twists it into something her own, while still giving you something that has you thinking "hey! that reminds me of so and so", you know? but it would be so interesting if she and merrill did make a bargain of sorts

i do think it's possible that merrill gets involved with whatever gwynriel is doing in their book, like maybe gwyn needs to learn more about her research and has to ask her and so on. i also think merrill could be influenced by koschei, which would lead to her "betrayal" or whatever. ever since acosf i've kinda had this climax scene in my head where gwyn has to take down merrill and doesn't let az help because she feels it's her fault and responsibility and she also might tell azriel she loves him before stopping him from accompanying her in some way. idk in my head it's all romantic and tension filled and badass and god i just need a gwynriel book

[offtorivendell]

Ahhhhhhhhh okay. Okay. So, you have put into one post here something that I have wanted to discuss for literal years (but as usual, you've gone above and beyond). Remember back in 2021, when we were discussing mythology that might relate to Elain, and I wondered if she could possibly be, at least in part, inspired by the three wives of Zephyros, the western wind? The fructifying wind, a messenger of spring?

Maybe one day I'll finish the post that is languishing in my drafts lol - I mentioned it in this discussion, but didn't go very in-depth - but all of these brilliant associations you've found between Elain and the wind have got me wondering once more... "what if Elain could function, in some capacity, like a harpy?"

To briefly sum up: a bird like creature that, among other things, is thought to be a wind spirit that carried evildoers away to the furies/erinyes (I have my eyes on Merrill, and maybe some of the other priestesses). The earlier harpies were apparently not foul in appearance, and were also thought to have ties with the underworld, which:

And it was Elain—Elain—who sighed and murmured, “I hope they all burn in hell.” - ACOMAF, chapter 40

Sighing and murmuring like the wind, burning in a part of the underworld? The sister who was once known to flit between her ball guests like a bird? The sister who may have already entered the Void? The sister who has been linked to hounds (was even called a dog), and the wind spirits known as the hounds of Zeus? The harpy wife of Zephyros, Podarge, whose name translates to swiftfoot or Fleetfoot, the name Aelin gave her dog?!

I know I've said it before, but if Elain actually drags the remaining mortal queens to Hell/Hel, just like she threatened way back in ACOMAF...

Please excuse me while I kick my feet and scream into my tea.

Song of the wind

This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.

There once was a dark cottage at the edge of the forest, and in that cottage rested a bed: 

The room was large enough for a rickety dresser and the enormous ironwood bed we slept in. The sole remnant of our former wealth, it had been ordered as a wedding gift from my father to my mother. It was the bed in which we’d been born, and the bed in which my mother died. In all the painting I’d done to our house these past few years, I’d never touched it. (acotar)

A bed made of ironwood, as @offtorivendell pointed out a long time ago. This is the only mention of ironwood in the acotar series. And as you may remember, ironwood is connected to Ironteeth witches: 

Leaning into the breeze was the closest she came to flying these days—save in rare dreams, when she was again in the clouds, her ironwood broom still functioning, not the scrap of useless wood it was now, chucked into the closet of her room at Blackbeak Keep. (hof)

-

A fierce, wild thrill pierced Manon’s chest, sharp as a knife. Following the Matron’s gaze, Manon looked to the horizon, where the mountains were still blanketed with winter. To fly again, to soar through the mountain passes, to hunt down prey the way they’d been born to … 

They weren’t enchanted ironwood brooms. But wyverns would do just fine. (hof)

Unlike Crochan witches who use redwood for their brooms, Ironteeth witches make their brooms from ironwood. It is unclear what wood is used for brooms in Midgard. Queen Hypaxia's broom is quite intricate, carved with clouds and flowers and stars, and turns into a broach of the earth goddess, Cthona, when it is not being used.

It is no coincidence that the Archeron sisters were born in an ironwood bed; it’s the only possession they kept from their past. If that doesn’t scream witches, I don’t know what does.  

In tog, we learn that Ironteeth witches carve their own brooms, as Manon recalls: 

Manon could still feel how her own hands had ached during the long days she’d whittled down her first broom from the log of ironwood she’d found deep in Oakwald. The first two ventures had resulted in snapped shafts, and she’d resolved to carve her broom more carefully. Three tries, one for each face of the Goddess. (koa)

This instantly made me think of Papa Archeron and his skill with wood. He bought the ironwood bed for his wife, and in it she birthed three sisters, one for each face of the Goddess. @starswhogaze suggests that he might even possess the gift of Sight, his eyes lost to memory, clouded. Is he a rare-born witch prince (of merchants), and did he See something in the future that compelled him to find the missing queen, Vassa, and gather an army? Or was he influenced by Koschei on the wind, as @offtorivendell has discussed before?

Ironteeth witches and their ironwood brooms are linked to the wind: 

She’d been thirteen, mere weeks past her first bleeding, which had brought about the zipping current of power that called to the wind, that flowed through the brooms and carried them into the skies. Each stroke of the chisel, each pound of the hammer that transformed the block of near-impenetrable material, had transferred that power into the emerging broom itself. (koa) 

Not only does this make me think of Papa Archeron and his chisel, spreading love and beauty with his carvings, but it also reminds me of Nesta’s trove of death-swords. She hammers raw magic into the swords like more elemental fae once did. 

I also can’t help but think about Elain imbuing objects or the land itself with power. Is that what her carved rose might foreshadow? Is it made of ironwood? Nesta describes the rose as a dark sort of wood with solid weight. Ironwood is known for being strong and dense, making it more difficult to carve. (And I just love the juxtaposition of something so delicate being so strong and solid, near-impenetrable.)

Nesta takes the dark rose from the cottage mantel and places it next to a figurine of the Mother in the House of Wind; the Mother is one of the faces of the Goddess that witches in Midgard and Erilea worship. Blooms are an important symbol for witches in Erilea, too:

A few bore flowers, but many brought small stones to lay on the site. Those who had neither laid down whatever personal effects they could offer. Until the blast site was covered, as if a garden had grown from a field of blood.

[…]

“Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.” (koa)

@offtorivendell pointed out that this imagery is similar to the way Elain is described in the witch accusation. She's a rose bloom among soldiers in a mud field, and at the end of the original series, she expresses a desire to create gardens after so much bloodshed and death.

Could Elain’s ironwood rose might mean we'll see her travel on the wind? Like Illyrians, Ironteeth witches fly and have a deep connection with the wind. Their power calls to the wind, and as we see with Manon, the wind sings to them in return:

Hurry northward, the wind sang, day and night. Hurry, Blackbeak. (koa) 

When Elain meets the Illyrians, the very first question out of her mouth is about their ability to fly, and we learn they hear the song of the wind from birth like Ironteeth witches. 

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?” 

He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” 

“That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?” 

“It is sometimes,” Azriel said. Cassian tore his relentless attention from Nesta long enough to nod his agreement. “If you are caught in a storm, if the current drops away. But we are trained so thoroughly that the fear is gone before we’re out of swaddling.” (acomaf)

We see the frightening scenario Azriel describes above play out when he rescues Elain and Briar, the former notably silent when they briefly lose the current. It’s as if she was Made to travel on the wind.

Azriel turned, the girl moaning in terror as he lost a few feet to the sky—before he leveled out and soared beside me. (acowar)

There are so many possibilities for how the song of the wind might connect to Elain’s powers. She might transform into a winged predator, as Blodeuwedd does, and/or she might move through the world like the Cauldron, a force that is travels unseen and constantly shifts form. Her power is repeatedly paralleled with Azriel’s abilities, and we already know that he learned the language of shadow and wind and stone when he was trapped in darkness. Elain’s sense of sound is also heightened after she is Made in the dark depths of the Cauldron:

“When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” 

She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” 

He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” (acowar)

[…]

“There is a garden—at my other house,” I said. “I’d like for you to come tend it, if you’re willing.” Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair. “Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil? Or the stretching of roots? Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?” (acowar)

She can hear, see, and communicate with things that others cannot. It would not be a surprise if this extended to the wind, among many other things as @silverlinedeyes suggests in her Singer post. 

“Don’t,” Elain said flatly, starting once more into a walk, veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes in her hands, as if they were Azriel’s shadows. “She won’t listen.” (acofas)

Another word for steam is mist and mist can create a a murky environment. Both oracles and mystics use murky environments, such as smoke-filled rooms or cloudy tubs of liquid, to access their gifts and respond to specific questions. I believe this environment is meant to mimic the murky waters of the Cauldron. The oracle in Midgard listens to answers in the smoke, much like Elain listens to a voice in her murky realm. When asked a question she cannot answer, she says it is all mist and shadow. 

Mor leaned forward. “Do you know why the other queens cursed her—sold her to him?” 

Elain studied the table. “No. No—that is all mist and shadow.” (acowar)

Mist and shadow. Like @offtorivendell, I believe Elain will need to use the language of shadow and wind and stone, or its counterpoint, for travel through the void as well as clear visions, which brings me back to witches. Ironteeth witches blink clear eyelids into place for protection, like owls. These eyelids allow them to see clearly in murky conditions while they fly. 

The smoke of countless forges stung Manon’s eyes enough that she blinked her clear eyelid into place upon landing in the heart of the war camp to the sound of pounding hammers and crackling flames. (qos)

In the Blodeuwedd post, I theorized that Elain blinks like an owl when she uses her gift of clairvoyance. Clairvoyance means clear sight or vision. Like an Ironteeth witch, she might blink to to see clearly, or focus her vision, in her murky realm. Does she possess an inner light, like owls of legend? Or can she hunt on sound alone, like an owl who has adapted to her dark environment? Move like a pale wraith through the darkness of the Void?

Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light. I realized then that the color of death, of sorrow, was white. The lack of color. Of vibrancy. I left Cassian and Rhys by the door. Nesta’s rage was better than this … shell. This void. My breath caught as I edged around her chair. Beheld the city view she stared so blankly at. Then beheld the hollowed-out cheeks, the bloodless lips, the brown eyes that had once been rich and warm, and now seemed utterly dull. Like grave dirt. 

[…]

Perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. To fill the void that existed where all of that light had once been. And now nothing remained. (acowar) 

Void is darkness that devours all light. A Night Court weaver wove dark fabric in her grief and called it Void. Dark fabric is also linked to movement earlier on in the series, when Feyre learns to winnow: 

“How does that … vanishing work?” I said softly. I’d seen only a few High Fae do it—and no one had ever explained. 

Rhys didn’t look at me, but he said, “Winnowing? Think of it as … two different points on a piece of cloth. One point is your current place in the world. The other one across the cloth is where you want to go. Winnowing … it’s like folding that cloth so the two spots align. The magic does the folding—and all we do is take a step to get from one place to another. Sometimes it’s a long step, and you can feel the dark fabric of the world as you pass through it. A shorter step, let’s say from one end of the room to the other, would barely register. It’s a rare gift, and a helpful one. Though only the stronger Fae can do it. The more powerful you are, the farther you can jump between places in one go.” (acomaf)

Void seems to be the dark fabric of the world that characters weave through as they winnow.

Darkness gobbled us up, and it was instinct to grab him as the world vanished from beneath my feet. Winnowing indeed. Wind tore at me, and his arm was a warm, heavy weight across my back while we tumbled through realms, Rhys snickering at my terror. (acomaf)

And this tumbling through realms in darkness sounds like the description of Wyrdgates, black areas where life passes between worlds, that Baba Yellowlegs gives to Aelin.

“There are gates—black areas in the Wyrd that allow for life to pass between the worlds. There are Wyrdgates that lead to Erilea. All sorts of beings have come through them over the eons. Benign things, but also the dead and foul things that creep in when the gods are looking elsewhere.” (com)

@silverlinedeyes theorized that Elain may use the Void to travel unseen. In the space between, I talk about the opposing forces of Azriel and Elain and the balance, or harmony, in the place where they meet. Could Elain become a force of light and wind and color that penetrates the deepest darkness?

Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain's golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders. (acowar)

-

But sunlight on gold caught his eye—and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window. (acowar)

-

Even in the middle of winter, she was a bloom of color and sunshine. (acofas)

-

From the edge of my vision, purple and gold flashed—Elain. (acofas) 

-

Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court. Gone were the sharp angles, replaced by softness and elegant curves. [...] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health.

Elain's smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf)

-

The River House had finally fallen quiet after the raucous Winter Solstice party, the Faelights dimming to cast little pools of gold amid the deep shadow of the longest night of the year. [...] The Faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. (Azriel's bonus chapter)

Did she track Hybern and her family through her Sight, and then—like a pale wraith on the wind—weave through the dark fabric of the world to strike true? Was she Hope shining through the Void, as acofas may have hinted?

Before she appears out of shadow to rescue Nesta and Cassian, she comments on the movement of one of my favorite creatures: 

Her eyes shifted beneath her lids, the skin so delicate and colorless that the blue veins beneath were like small streams. “It moves …,” she whispered. “It moves through the world like … like the breath of the western wind.” (acowar)

Is this simply a poetic turn of phrase she uses for the Suriel’s movements, or does Elain understand the wind better than we realize? Is she familiar with the western wind specifically? Merrill, who is referred to as a witch (and reminds me of Manon), informs Nesta in acosf that she is descended from Rabbath, Lord of the Western Wind. Like witches, she too seems to have a special connection to the wind and presides over the spell-like ritual of the dusk services. Where is the Lord of the Western Wind from? Could it involve Dusk…or the Witch Kingdom in another world? All signs point to witches, as @psychologynerd reminded me of this:

Sometimes, Manon dreamed that she was in that room in the Omega, her half sister’s blood on her hands and in her mouth. Sometimes, she stood beside her grandmother, a witch fully grown and not the witchling she’d been at the time, and helped the Matron carve up a handsome, bearded man who begged for her life—his offspring’s life. Sometimes, she flew over a lush green land, the song of a western wind singing her home. (eos)

It's even more interesting that Elain specifically names the breath of the western wind, as though she has heard its call too. Though this list below is not exhaustive, the number of characters and creatures in the acotar series who are linked to the wind has grown immensely:

Suriel moving like a shadow on the wind and the western wind;

Illyrians hearing the song of the wind; 

Azriel learning the language of the wind;

Mor's blood calling her to go on the wind;

Koschei influencing others on the wind; 

Beron getting wind of Briallyn’s plans;

Queens scattering to the winds (like witches in tog); 

Autumn’s smokehounds moving as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey; and

Merrill hearing the wind through stone, a descendant of Lord of the Western Wind.

And because I was curious (and love to come back to connections between the Suriel and Elain), I reviewed how the Suriel traveled.

Like a shadow on the wind, the Suriel was off, a blast of dark that set the four naga staggering back. (acowar)

-

I glanced toward the river, as if I could see all the way to the cave, to where Rhysand slept. When I looked back at the Suriel, it was gone. (acomaf)

-

I drew my Illyrian blade, the metal singing in the thick air. But an ancient, rasping voice asked behind me, “Have you come to kill me, or to beg for my help once again, Feyre Archeron?” 

I turned, but did not sheath my blade across my back. 

The Suriel was standing a few feet away, clad not in the cloak I had given it months ago, but a different one—heavier and darker, the fabric already torn and shredded. As if the wind it traveled on had ripped through it with invisible talons. (acowar) 

The Suriel moves like a shadow on the wind, appearing and vanishing silently and suddenly, as Elain does now: 

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)

“Feyre?” Elain was again at my side. I hadn’t heard her steps. Hadn’t heard any sound for moments. (acofas)

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.” (acosf)

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf)

Elain seems to move like the breath of the western wind too, and I have a feeling that if we could hear it as she might, it would sound like a chant.

Next: The sense chanted, or Elain's connections to witchy rituals.

Series: seer. wise woman. witch.

[violetasteracademic]

A ray of hope there still may be in this, the gift I give to thee...

My darlings, have hope. SJM had been letting us know where this is headed for many years, and she continues to speak to those who understand what to listen for.

I have already made a post sharing the meaning of The Glass Coffin ballet Bryce played for Nesta and Azriel in the bonus chapter, which is Sleeping Beauty.

Let me repeat that again: in the bonus chapter where Azriel is asked if he has a mate (or spouse, or partner), the bonus chapter where he looks down at Truth-Teller, thinking of Elain when describing how the King of Hybern was killed, the bonus chapter where he listens particularly close to Nesta describing if she now finally prefers being Fae to human.... Bryce played Sleeping Beauty for them.

Now, the Elriel being a Sleeping Beauty retelling has been theorized for YEARS.

I will link some of these below, but I want to touch some of my favorite ideas and easter eggs.

Many have pointed out the significance of Briar, the human woman Azriel and Elain carried back from Hybern after Azriel rescued Elain as a Sleeping Beauty clue. Briar Rose is the Alias that Princess Aurora lives by under the protection of the three good fairies.

The fairies are:

Flora (flowers) in possession of the Sword of Truth

Fauna (fawn) who gives the gift of song

Merriweather (the blue fairy) who attempts to give the gift of happiness, but is cut short by a spell

It's actually kind of insane when you start to look at all of these details. Flowers, fawn's, and happiness from the blue fairy being interrupted by a curse or a spell. Something only true love can break.

I agree with the take (which I originally saw on @elriell post found here) that Sarah might invert the Sleeping Beauty retelling for Elriel. Azriel has a few building blocks to indicate he is at a high risk. Koschei is specifically trying to get his hands on Azriel, stating he planned for him for months, and he is in close proximity to the priestesses, some of whom at this moment have the ability to lure and lull. Whether it's G/wyn and her theorized lightsinger and/or siren abilities, the sermon's Clotho suddenly discovered one day amongst random books shelved below Level Seven:

Or Merril, the descendant of the Lord of the Western Wind who considers G/wyn a lackey to be dismissed (while Koschei plants words in courts through whispers on the wind)

There is no doubt in my mind that as Rhys was captured by Hybern and Cassian was captured by Briallyn and the crown, Elain will step into her power to save Azriel from whatever it is Koschei needs him for.

The Sleeping Beauty theory moved beyond theory in HOFAS, in my opinion. I'm not saying Sarah dropped The Glass Coffin specifically for Elriel's, as we all know SJM doesn't have social media on her phone and she tends to keep away from too many fan theories. What I am saying is Elriel's have long picked up on the Sleeping Beauty threads Sarah has been dropping for years, and SJM has done nothing but continue to build on that narrative.

In this year of 2024, in Sarah's most recently published book, after years of speculation:

Azriel confirmed something was indeed wrong with the Cauldron.

Azriel literally listened to a Sleeping Beauty symphony.

Briar Rose, flowers and fawns and the Sword of Truth, sleeping spells which can only be broken by true love, the inside of Elain's mind being described as a sleeping garden.

It's honestly overwhelming.

Hope.

https://elriell.tumblr.com/post/644019925155037184/why-elriel-is-most-definitely-a-sleeping-beauty

https://www.reddit.com/r/acotar/comments/110lyda/sleeping_beauty_retelling_potential_spoilers/

https://www.reddit.com/r/acotar/comments/luk8b7/eighth_court_theory/

[oristian]

I was not aware that the “Who killed the King of Hybern” argument was actually so intense on here until five minutes ago, but truly what is this argument? I see half of the people saying that Nesta is a poor teammate in that she has not credited Elain for stabbing the king, and the other half saying that Nesta is protecting Elain’s image? I would add the pages from the books directly, but I have seen people arguing over verbatim quotes, as well.

Elain stabbed the king and ultimately saved Nesta and Cassian’s life; no one is arguing against that. Without Elain and her efforts, more than likely Nesta and Cassian would have died on the battlefield. However, Elain dropped Truth Teller and Nesta actively finished with the killing blow. The king was reaching for his weapon and moving in Nesta’s grip while she was beheading him. On top of that, there are worse injuries in the ACOTAR series that has been survivable. Could the King of Hybern have survived his injuries? Possibly, given that this is a magic world and an eyeball and a finger bone could be thrown into a magic Cauldron and turned back into a man.

Nesta not crediting Elain could be understood in different capacities, but since there are no canon quotes directly from the books that support any of the arguments that I have read through yet, it’s speculation. The scenes in which Nesta “took credit” for killing the King of Hybern were at the praise of other characters—Gwyn, Emerie, Merrill, et cetera. They all heard of the female who held up the King’s head in triumph after promising him a death at the point of her finger in ACOMAF. It is symbolic, and it is powerful. Could she have eluded to Elain being part of that effort? Certainly, but what good would it have done?

“You slew the King of Hybern, with the Shadowsinger’s knife.”

“Actually, my sister stabbed him and I just beheaded him.”

“Uh, oh, okay.”

—

“The female who slew the King of Hybern and held up his head like a trophy as his blood rained upon her.”

“It was actually a joint effort.”

“Get back to work.”

Truly, what would it have done in those scenes—especially the scene with Merrill—to divert all attention from her and add an additional character that was not a large presence in ACOSF, nor was she present during those scenes? It just creates unnecessary verbiage that does nothing for the scene. Killing the King of Hybern was symbolic for Nesta. Elain will have her thing that will solely be her’s in her book.

I also want to reiterate that I do love Elain’s character and where she has the potential to go as the series comes to a close. I want something special just for her that doesn’t involve such senseless arguing over essentially nothing.

[fuckyestherest]

Such an unexpectedly wonderful pairing!

Morrill (Mor/Merrill) | T, mentions of war/death/trauma from sexual assault | First Meeting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

ao3

*please mind triggers for SA trauma references

~*~*~

“You’re late.”

Mor hasn’t fully entered the office before the words land like the crack of a whip. 

This is going to be a treat, she thinks in annoyance. 

Before nearly stumbling over her own feet in the first case of gracelessness in … her entire life?

Sitting behind a desk piled high with documents and books propped open to pages for easy comparison, the singular most stunning female Mor has ever seen presides. And she’s leveling the iciest look at Mor from those twilight eyes. Frigid enough to freeze an Illyrian legion mid-march.

And all the more breathtaking for it.

Mor recovers her footing against a burst of tempest.

“Do the members of our ruling court believe themselves above appointment times? Has the Night Court strayed so far from basic etiquette?”

Hair as white as dazzling Winter snow rustles in her own conjured wind. Strands catch on the priestess’s thin lips. The crackle of magic and the scent of ozone tickles Mor’s nose, dares her to poke her tongue out to lick her lips against the familiar tingle of awareness.

But she can’t remove her eyes from the female and she’d likely see the sight of her tongue as an instigation. 

“My sincerest apologies.” Mor smiles easily, practiced, as she sits, crosses one knee over the other in her flowy high-waisted trousers. “Would you prefer I reschedule?”

Merrill, Clotho’s second and the leading researcher for the Night Court who rivals even Helion’s scholars — through abrasive call-out articles in response to their studies in the scholarly circulars, nonetheless. A maelstrom of a female descended from one of the most formidable welders of wind, Lord Rabath. Mor has heard of her, tucked away in the Library, but has somehow never run into her.

Until today.

Today she’s here to strike an impossible bargain.

And she’s completely botched the start.

“So your lack of attention to detail can interrupt my calendar once more? I think not. But I may exercise a hard stop at our original end time, whether we’ve gotten to your portion of the meeting or not.”

“That would be amenable. Fair, for my tardiness and all.”

Merrill scrutinizes the lack of tension in Mor’s posture with the suspicion worthy of a shrew. A creature too used to being underground. 

Mor has to suppress the familiar righteous fury that fills her when considering the circumstances that have chased these females into this mountain sanctuary.

This place isn’t about her, isn’t about vengeance - it’s about healing, and her anger won’t help that. Not now, at least.

“I briefly described the purpose of my inquiry —” Mor highly doubts this female has an ounce of brevity in her body if she describes the lengthy scroll Mor received as ‘brief’ “ — so I assume you’re prepared for this undertaking. I will warn you now, thoroughness will not be compromised.”

“Unless you decide to impose the hard-stop of our appointment time?”

 Merrill’s lips pucker. Only centuries of surviving her Illyrians’ practical jokes keeps Mor’s expression carefully trained beyond a flicker of amusement.

“As I already said, yes.” Twilight depths don’t warm an inch, but a challenge not wholly hostile twinkle in them. “If you insist on asking repetitive questions, we certainly will not have time to discuss your matter.” 

Mor ducks her chin. “Understood. Please, Merrill, I’m ready when you are. I’m fully confident in my ability to follow your precise instructions as well as my stamina to withstand whatever you throw my way.”

Merrill scoffs, sizing up the Morrigan like she isn’t a renowned figure across continents. “We’ll see about that.”

They launch into a lengthy analysis of the firsthand accounts Merrill has collected on the Valkyrie. Asking Mor for confirmation from her own experiences with the warrior females. They’re interrupted briefly by one of Merrill’s assistants, a young Fae barely wet behind the ears, and the pure indignation that seeps from the priestess fills Mor like a kettle of familiarity.

The flippant tone the young female thinks is buried beneath her respectful words raises Mor’s hackles in the same way Nesta’s haughty attitude does.

When she asks if it’s just her or have all the Fae gotten younger and more precocious, she swears a hint of a smile threatens to break Merrill’s steely demeanor. 

After that, a careful truce is drawn. 

A recognition that they’ve both been around far too long for the mouthy, exhibitionist style of the youths these days — surely they never would have been so churlish, dared to speak out against their tutors, their masters in learning.

It’s impossible to tell if minutes or hours pass as they hunt out details in Merrill’s book. It’s more exhilarating than Mor had imagined a review of a comprehensive history could be. It stirs old feelings of wild, reckless times, poor decisions and moments of unbelievable courage; they feel like tales of someone else — not her own stories. But there’s also the somber, smothering reminder of Fae come and gone. 

A lengthy silence follows the passage pertaining to the Gollian Mountains.

Mor presses her hands between her thighs and squeezes them. 

Flesh, blood, above ground.

Or. Not quite so above ground. 

She studies the office, not so far in the depths of the mountain on the second level of the library, but there’s still a hint of cavernous moisture to the air, the faintest trickle of water moving through stone behind the walls. Seeks out the details to chase away the thrum of emotion welling in her throat. 

This isn’t one of the rooms with a window towards Velaris. As if Merrill has intentionally barricaded herself against the heart of the mountain.

They’re both living, but life feels so cut off this far from the surface.

“Don’t you miss it?” The words come out like a great exhale.

Merrill freezes in her diligent note taking. 

Focused, feeding her a steady supply of information, Mor has managed to nearly smooth things over from her social faux pas - but now those sharp eyes are narrowed on her with a promise of violence brimming beneath.

“The wind,” Mor continues. Truth sings in her blood, surges her forward. “It must be stifling to be down here, only catching drafts. Don’t you miss the wind?”

Mor expects a howling rage. A tantrum of papers and curses whipping around her in a tunnel of biting air.

But perhaps it's her earnest expression, or the vulnerability laid out between them in discussing her fallen comrades. Merrill forcefully sets her pen in her ink well, but the current around her is only a trickling stir. She crosses her arms over her chest, nearly tugging the fabric taut enough to reveal a shape of a body underneath.

Mor doesn’t look. 

Like a shuttering pull of blinds Merrill bites back her rage and honesty flickers through.

“Yes,” she grits out. “I miss it with every damned breath under this mountain. The wind cries to me like a forlorn lover, begging me to return.”

They barely know each other, but for some reason Mor’s chest is rising and falling rapidly with the confession. It feels sacred. Like a treasure to hold this female’s candle of truth close, needing to cup it gently with both hands, protect it, so it doesn’t wink out.

“So why don’t you answer Her?”

“Simple. I am a coward, Morrigan. I hide behind my books and research and anger. I punish myself for a crime I didn’t commit because I am so gods-awful afraid to face …”

“What?”

Merrill’s rigid jaw tightens. A storm brews in her twilight depths, the flash of lightning in fractals of shining silver.

“You know what.”

“What if you had help?” Mor breathes, possessed by an overwhelming need to reach across the distance between them —

She squeezes her hands tighter to suppress the urge.

The silver gives way to that icy rage. “You cannot expect to come down here and flaunt your lifestyle of adventure and peril to coax a centuries old hermit from her shell. I am a coward and that can’t be changed with, with — ” she throws a hand towards Mor, as if her entire presence is an affront “ — this pageantry. This beautiful life with the wind and sunlight and … The scent is all over you and it’s tempting like a freshly baked pie cooling on the sill, but … It’s not for me.”

Mor feels a knot forming in her throat. It feels like the number of Fae her age are dwindling. The first war and then the most recent conflicts. There’s been such abysmal loss. The tug of this kindred spirit, this cage of stone …

“I need your help,” she says, and there’s far too much emotion choking her words. Mor should be polished, should be the Queen of the Hewn City - but she’s utterly overwhelmed by the force of her power. Of the Truth that needs to be voiced. “In Valhallen, they dance circles while I try to pin them down. I need your help. No one else is as knowledgeable —”

“That’s why you came here?”

Papers begin to shake. A distant power calls in kind as magic seeps from Merrill. 

“The High Lord would allow such a request when he knows what this retreat is meant for —”

“No, please, it was my idea and Rhys would have my title if he knew I would even try. Clotho, too, would likely string me up as bait for whatever still lurks in the bowels of this Library.” There’s a wobbling to her tone and Mor has no idea why until Merrill’s eyes flash with the release of her power — and the echoing howl answers mournfully. “Mother above, I shouldn’t … I shouldn’t … But the Wind misses you so dearly. I can hear Her now.”

A tear slips unbidden from her, rolls down her cheek. Merrill watches the track in stunned awe.

The papers settle.

“Don’t you miss the wind? The sky? Sunlight?” Mor says shakily and she fumbles her hands onto the desk as close to the priestess as she dares. “I can help. I will help, to face, to face …”

Merrill inhales sharply.

She looks away.

Her hands tremble as they slide across her desk of papers. The tips curl into Mor’s. Something shining and bright hums to life, but neither voices it.

Instead, Mor relishes in the delicate touch. The heavy weight of unwarranted trust — trust she’ll never squander, she’ll use her life to defend.

“Is the situation so dire?” Merrill whispers to the floor littered with thick tomes.

“I wouldn’t beg this of you otherwise.”

To hell with the cream color of her sweater, Mor uses her shoulder to wipe another tear away and swipes a line of black eye makeup with it.

“I - I can’t … Make any commitments yet.”

“It’s an immense ask, I wouldn’t expect a quick answer.”

They remain in gentle silence and Mor tries not to consider the gift it is to touch the magnificent whisperer of the West Winds. To see the truth of her formidable strength she thinks is lost and crumbled. With time, she thinks, with time.

And with some help.

A priestess makes a clatter in the hall just outside of Merrill’s office. As if snapping out of a trance, Merrill withdraws into herself and pulls her spine straight imperiously. 

“Send a formal request, Mor. It will need to go through Clotho considering the obligations I fulfill under her direction. I will write to you once we … I’ve made a decision.”

The lingering warmth of the female’s skin remains like a blush on Mor’s fingers.

“And … if I were to visit before your letter?”

Merrill meets her vulnerable, open gaze. Guarded, cold, but not icy enough to stop warriors dead in their tracks.

Mor’s heart leaps in her throat.

“Wait for my letter.”

She nods in understanding. “Time. Right.”

Mor collects herself from the chair her backside has molded to during their appointment that has bled well past the original hard-stop time. Her thoughts feel heavy, doused in the surge of her power and the thrill of emotion she hasn’t felt in … in her life. A kindred spirit, an answer to a question …

“Mor?”

The excuse to look back as her hand lands on the doorknob is a relief Mor didn’t know she needs. The jewel hanging at the center of her forehead pulses with energy as Merrill considers her next words.

“Seek out the employment of an Order trained scribe. Don't make me a laughingstock presenting your chicken scratch to Clotho."

Mor can’t stop the peel of laughter the same way she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. 

The wind that answers isn’t angry, but a soft whisper of a caress along her flushed cheeks.