#(remember the riddle of Amarantha /sighs/)

[achaotichuman]

This is another fic my lovely friend @lorcandidlucienwill sent me <3

I think @kateprincessofbluewhales made a post about this ages ago that I just remembered. But imagine Feyre wants to be with Tamlin but she is mated with Rhysand and Tamlin feels her slowly drifting away each time she comes back and and and... Part 1 until I come up with more shit.

"Feyre! Feyre, are you alright?" Tamlin rushed to her, needing to touch her, smell her, see her face, just to know that she's alright- "I'm ok," Feyre gasped. She looked at him, and Tamlin scanned her face. No visible wounds, but the worst wounds were often internal. Tamlin knew better than anyone. He still hadn't told her that she wasn't the only one who had been sexually assaulted under the mountain. That he had been raped again and again by Amarantha while she had been safe in the human lands as he had planned. He still couldn't bring himself to do it. He loved her so much, his angry feral little woman. But Tamlin knew that if he showed her the full extent of his darkness, 500 years worth, she wouldn't be able to handle it. Not now, maybe not ever.

She hurt so much, but even then, she was twenty years old. So young, so hopeful. Her human experience, enjoying and being in awe of everything at once, feeling all emotions in such a small space of time, living a full life in an eighth of his, was incredible. Tamlin couldn't help but be drawn to it. And although her body might have been changed, Feyre was still a human at heart. Tamlin couldn't, wouldn't break her with his own pain. He only wished he had the courage to ask her about her own. Thankfully Lucien had got a bit out of her, but Tamlin wanted her to open up. Wanted her to continue being open and human. He didn't want her to become like him.

"Did he torture you? Did he...touch you?" Tamlin hated that he had to ask it, hated that he hadn't been powerful enough to stop Rhysand from taking her away from him. Unbidden, he recalled his conversation with Feyre before he had sent her back to her human family.

I can hold my own, Feyre had insisted. Beautiful girl. Beautiful, angry, naive girl. She was good with a bow, but she stood no chance against this woman. He had to ensure she understood that. You can’t. Because I can’t. I can’t even protect myself against them, against what’s happening in Prythian. Even if we stood against the blight … they would hunt you down—she would find a way to kill you. I don't understand. Tell me, she had demanded. Sweet, brave girl. All that was good in the world. He had to keep her safe. Far away from Prythian.

He felt just the same as he had mere months ago. Only instead of Amarantha, it was Rhysand who he was helpless to stop. He despised it, the stupid Fae bargain, everything. He hated everything about the Fae. Everything Fae was why they were in this position now. "No," she reassured him. "He mostly left me alone." Tamlin tried to scent out a lie on her, but nothing. Truth, then. Tamlin heaved a sigh of relief. He had been torturing himself for days, ripping furniture to shreds, else bawling in his room. Finally, Lucien, tired of playing babysitter, had demanded he use healthier coping habits.Tamlin had started writing depressing fiddle songs that he knew were terrible, but Lucien had listened to each one and even clapped when necessary. Truly the greatest friend one could ask for.

They kept searching all of Prythian for solutions to the bargain. Even after Day had offered up nothing. They'd search the whole damn world if they had to for their cursebreaker. Their Cursebreaker. For she may be Tamlin's bride, but she was also Lucien's friend, and Prythian's hero. A fully-fledged war hero. Tamlin could still scarcely believe it. A mere human girl. Her fierce heart never ceased to amaze him. Though the silly woman had taken months to figure out a simple riddle, she had done it in the end. In a far more incredible, epic fashion. And she'd been gifted with immortality. Immortality with him.

"Come and eat. When you feel up to it, tell me what you remember of the Night Court." Tamlin hated to do it, but he couldn't waste this chance to learn more of Night- not when they were sworn enemies and knowledge could free Feyre. Although...daemati. Fuck. Was there a way to check if someone's mind had been meddled with? He asked Lucien about it later when his future bride had fallen asleep. "I could ask Nuan to talk to someone in Dawn about it," Lucien said. "They're the foremost experts in this healing shit, they could probably tell instantly whether or not her brain has been meddled with, and probably fix it too."

Tamlin breathed, "What if it can't be fixed?" Tamlin started breathing rapidly, feeling the panic attack coming on. Lucien's hand gripped his forearm. "Tamlin. Tamlin. Relax. I will bring Thesan himself here if that's what the fuck it takes." "Thesan? Would he even come?" Deep breaths, Tamlin. Deep breaths. Lucien snorted. "For the Cursebreaker? Zero hesitation." He walked away. Right. Feyre was something of a demigod, an idol, to these people now.

Tamlin tried to enjoy his time with Feyre, but it felt like a ticking time bomb. Every day her inevitable trip to that monster's house loomed closer. Who knew what he would do this time. Maybe he was trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Maybe he was making her forget things. Tamlin's imagination ran wild; so wild he had to vent to Lucien so as not to scare Feyre. Lucien sometimes outright facepalmed at his idiocy. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I managed to get Thesan to come here soon." "How soon?" Tamlin asked. He hated how desperate his voice was. It had been nothing but desperation his entire life, like some kind of rabid dog. Would he ever be free?

Lucien said, "A couple of weeks. He's doing some rebuilding and reconciling, but he can come around then." Tamlin slumped in relief before stress began to surge through him once more, causing a headache. "That's after Feyre goes back to Rhysand. By then, he could've caused irreparable damage to her brain." "It was the best I could do," Lucien said. "Tam, Thesan is the High Lord of Dawn. If anyone can do something about it, it's him. I can assure you, a week or two won't make a difference."

Tamlin gripped the edge of the table so hard wood came off in his hands. "Get out," Tamlin said quietly. Lucien opened his mouth to continue, but Tamlin roared, "NOW!" Lucien scurried away.

He felt guilty for how he'd yelled at Lucien, but Tamlin had to be alone now. He just had to. Not even Lucien knew the true extent of the darkness in his heart. Lucien was nearly two centuries younger than him. In spite of all the torment he had been through, he was still a living flame. Nothing like Tamlin. Full of tangled thorns, but outwardly a rose.

The second time Rhysand came to pick up Feyre, Tamlin damn near ripped him to shreds right there. Goddamn his superiority complex convincing himself that he's the most powerful guy around, Tamlin could take him on. They'd been friends once. Rhysand had learned all those oh-so-great Illyrian techniques of fighting. Hadn't stopped Tamlin from beating his ass to a pulp every time they'd sparred. He was a pale, skinny, dorky little man. Fighting was not his strength. But a High Lord fight here in his territory, with Feyre in his arms, that bargain in his favor...not the best idea. So, Tamlin controlled himself, even as his mind screamed, even as his heart pumped so hard he knew he gave away every feeling in his heart to Rhysand. Indeed the asshole smirked, as if he thoroughly enjoyed it. Brat.

A broken chair. Another broken table. Lucien had stood there, blood streaming down his face from the shrapnel, trying to get him to stop. When he'd finally gotten him to stop, Tamlin had taken the thoroughly scratched fiddle in Lucien's hands, trying to express himself through his music, the beast within longed to shred faeries to pieces. So, he played sad fiddle songs to appease Lucien, and when Lucien was elsewhere, searching for solutions to their little problem, Tamlin went into the forest.

And he shredded whatever ilk remained in the forest with his bare hands. Savored the scent of blood in the air. Tore out throats with his teeth as he had with Amarantha.

He didn’t come home until blood dripped from either side of his mouth, till his face was marred with scratches, his clothing ripped to shreds, his wrists sore from killing so many creatures. It took longer to let out his anger now that his power had returned. It was easy now-too easy. So, while Lucien was gone, he’d sometimes be out there for days at a time. It was the only way he could play the perfect, noble High Lord. No one needed to know the roars in the forest were him.

When Feyre returned, Tamlin checked her again. She looked the same as she had last time, but Tamlin trusted nothing. He didn’t trust Rhysand as far as he could throw him. He was now certain some kind of mind manipulation was happening here to make Feyre forget her torment. Otherwise, why would he even make such a bargain?

Unless he had done it for the simple pleasure of taking something from him. For the simple pleasure of torturing him. Or even more simply, he wanted Tamlin’s attention somehow. Some way. Tamlin couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Was it his friendship that he desired so badly? After all this time? Rhysand was worse at making friends than Tamlin was; now that he thought about it, Tamlin might be Rhysand’s only friend ever.

Feyre shook her head in disgust when they were sleeping beside each other on the bed. “He can sense my emotions through the bond,” Feyre whispered. “He can spy on me- has seen me many times.” She shook her head. “I don’t feel safe anymore, Tamlin.” He was going to kill Rhysand. Inch by inch. He would savor every bit of it. And he’d do it in fucking beast form. Then he’d put Rhysand’s head on a spike and parade it around Spring like a fucking victory flag. He pulled Feyre into his arms, tucking her head into his chest. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” Tamlin murmured onto her head. “I’m sorry.” He vowed to remember it. Every bit of sorrow, of hurt he had felt from Feyre. And he’d make sure Rhysand felt it all before he died at Tamlin’s hands.

“Kiss me,” Feyre whispered against him. Tamlin stilled. “Are you sure? After all that-” “I want to forget,” Feyre insisted, and some of that old snappiness and anger returned to her voice. “Can you do that?” Tamlin understood better than anyone the need to forget. So, he obliged her.

Thesan examined Feyre, a soft glow emanating from his hands. “There’s no mind manipulation or brain damage as far as I can tell,” Thesan assured Tamlin afterwards. “The daemati think they’re sneaky, but a powerful healer can detect changes. There have been none in Feyre. She is still your bride, Tamlin.” Bride. Right. Tamlin had almost forgotten amidst the massive pile of horseshit that was Rhysand and his stupid bargain. Well, that was one thing off his chest, at least. “Not even memory loss? Or stolen memories?” Thesan shook his head, clasping his shoulder. “Worry not, my friend. Lady Feyre is perfectly alright.”

Tamlin ought to have felt comforted by the thought. But his paranoia got the better of him. Was it just him or was something different about her? Every time she left, she felt a little more distant. Tamlin could’ve sworn he saw her staring back at Rhysand in longing once. It was that look that had worried him more than anything else. “Is it the bargain magic? Is he manipulating you?” he had asked. Feyre had shaken her head. “The bargain magic has its limits. But…he tugged on something else last time. I couldn’t tell what it was; it was in the ribs, and it made me long for him. I didn’t like it at all, Tamlin. My heart belongs to you.”

Tamlin’s heart stopped. Simply stopped beating and dropped out of his chest. It was more still than it had been in Amarantha’s time. He had a very bad feeling about what it was affecting Feyre. And he knew why Rhysand had made that bargain. He had known before even Tamlin had.

Mates. Mates. Mates.

His beloved Feyre, unversed as she was in Faelore, did not understand. But Tamlin did. And he hated Rhysand even more. He hated him so much he couldn’t breathe. He hated him so much that he made an oath right then and there.

He swore to the Mother herself that if he didn’t kill Rhysand within the next twenty years, may the Mother claim his body as hers.

Amazing writing as always. Kate, you are also a genius. this is a very good theory and Amita you executed it incredibly well. The anguish between them, and the feeling of Feyre being so far away and Tamlin wanting to protect her is so heartbreaking, I love it.

Also fuck Amarantha, I want to murder her more than anything in the world.

Feyre still clearly wants to be with Tamlin. And I love how her mating bond is portrayed as almost similar to Tamlin's mother's, where it's fake love for Rhysand, the mating bond making her long for him rather than her own head. It's deliciously angsty and I want nothing more than for Tamlin to rip Rhysand to shreds.

This was amazing. I loved every inch of it, thank you so much!

#mita the writer #acotar #pro tamlin #tamlin #feyre archeron #pro feyre archeron #feylin #pro feylin #anti feysand #anti rhysand #acotar au

[draguta]

.a court of ash and smoke | five.

pairing: lucien vanseera x fem!reader

summary: five years before feyre archeron ever stepped foot in prythian, another human girl found herself in the spring court. but the trials and tribulations of her time under the mountain left her with nothing but a certain red-headed high fae emissary, who had once resented her entire presence, to help and guide her.

chapter warnings: canon violence

chapter word count: 4254

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Riddles

“This could be it,” Lucien argued. “This could be our one chance.”

“It’s too dangerous, Lucien,” you countered. You had been arguing for nearly an hour, and all the while Feyre ached in pain down in that cell, just as you once had. Lucien had come to see you down there, but you knew now the risk that it possessed, even if he did wish to do no more than ease her pain and offer her an ounce of comfort as he had done for you.

“She could be our chance,” he said firmly. It took all but two strides of his long, powerful legs for him to cross your chambers so that he was standing before you. His large hands came up to cup your face on either side, rough fingertips stroking gently at your cheeks. “Don’t you want to go home? Back to the Spring Court, with me?”

You leaned into his touch. “Of course I do,” you began. “But-”

“Then let me help her,” he whispered. “Let me heal her wounds so that she has even the smallest fighting chance. Please.”

You sighed, closing your eyes for just a moment, relishing in the warmth from his hands on your cool skin. Your best friend. When had he become so important to you, you didn’t know. Somewhere between the first and second year you had been there, under that mountain. But he was, and you could deny it anymore, and the thought of him putting himself in the line of danger was enough to make your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. “If anyone catches you,” you whispered against the palm of his hand. “I’m sure it won’t just be your eye she takes this time. It will be your life.”

“I’m willing to take that risk, if it means possible liberation for our court,” he muttered. “For Tamlin, and for you.” Your eyes snapped open, up to his in a second.

“I’m not willing to take that risk,” you snapped, pulling away from him. “I can’t lose you, Lucien. You’re all I have left. Tamlin won’t even look at me. Can’t even look at what I’ve become.”

He sighed, taking a hesitant step toward you, but you turned your back from him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Tamlin is playing the long game,” he said quietly. “If he gives nothing to Amarantha, then she has nothing to use against you or Feyre.” He drew in a deep breath, and it came out shaky and short. “He hasn’t been the same…since you…He’s been cautious and closed off. Angry.”

You scoffed. “He’s angry? If that is anger, then what does that make what I feel? Where does that leave me, after everything I’ve been through? He wasn’t there when I needed him, all I had - all I still have - is you,” you paused, turning to look at him over your shoulder, eyes narrowing. “And now you want to put yourself in the firing line, to barter your life as if it is only you that has something to lose if you’re caught.”

“Y/N-” he began, but you shook your head again.

“You’re your own man, Lucien,” you whispered. “If this is something that you feel you need to do, then I won’t stop you. But remember who it is that will mourn you if you’re caught.”

You could sense the grit of his teeth, the slight surge of anger that rushed through him, but he didn’t say another word as he disappeared out of the door, and travelled down, through the mountain, to the dungeon.

The next day, as you were clasped at the waist by a grotesque High Fae from the Autumn Court, Feyre was dragged into the throne room once more, and your breath held in your throat as you watched. The Autumn Court Faerie slapped and squeezed at the flesh of your backside, and you winced, but rather than try to shuffle from his grip as you normally would have, you kept your eyes trained on Feyre. Her broken bones were gone, her bruises faded - Lucien had done it, made it down to the dungeon and helped her. So where was he? You hadn’t seen him all day, and the thought of the harsh words that you had spat at him being the last thing you said to him if he had been caught was too unbearable to even resonate with you.

“You look positively dreadful,” the High Queen snarled. “Wouldn’t you say she’s taken a turn for the worse?”

Tamlin, once again, didn’t reply, and you felt a surge of anger rage through you. ‘He’s playing a game,’ you reminded yourself. ‘Just as Lucien said, this is just a game to keep Feyre safe from Amarantha, or as safe as she can be.’

“You know,” Amarantha continued. “I couldn’t sleep last night, and I realised why this morning. I don’t know your name. If you and I are going to be such close friends for the next three months, I should know your name, shouldn’t I?”

There was nothing kind about the way she spoke, nothing clear or calming in her snarled voice. You don’t know why you had expected there to be, why you had expected that symphonious tone to make a return today. She rarely brought it out, and when she did, it was only ever to kill her tormented with a false sense of hope.

“Come now, pet. You know my name - isn’t it fair that I know yours?” She continued when Feyre refused to answer. That girl was strong, you could see it, in the way that she clenched her fists and gritted her jaw, in the refusal to stand down before Amarantha. You envied her.

You sense the Attor, somewhere at the front of the crowd, hidden from your sight. “After all,” Amarantha continued. “You’ve already learned the consequences of giving false names.” And then there was a cloud of black smoke, his lips a snarling smirk. He bowed to her. “Rhysand. Is this the girl you saw at Tamlin’s estate?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could only hope in that moment that Rhysand was, after everything, an ally after all. “I suppose.”

“But did you or did you not tell me that girl,” from your position at the back of the court, you saw her raise a pale finger to Clare’s body, although the corpse itself was out of sight from you. “Was the one you saw.”

Rhysand shrugged, hands falling to his pockets. “Humans all look alike to me.”

Was this a ploy? Was this a part of wicked games? Was he even truly wicked, or was he simply trying to beat the High Queen at her own game? You didn’t know the answer to any of those questions, but the one that rang the loudest in your head was, where is Lucien? That was all you could really focus on, all you worried about. You didn’t care that Feyre was facing down the Queen herself, or that Rhysand might have been lying. You didn’t even care that Tamlin sat in his statue-esque position at Amarantha’s side, not if your only true friend under this mountain was nowhere to be seen. Not if he was possibly gone.

“And what about faeries?” Amarantha asked with a smug sort of smile, one that told you she already knew what his answer would be.

“Among a sea of mundane faces, yours is a work of art,” Rhysand replied. Now you knew he was lying. Amarantha bore less beauty than even you did, her face bitter and shrivelled with resentment and revenge to the point that she looked no prettier than a week-old prune. Besides her flawless, pale skin, there was no mark of beauty there, her eyes too small and beady for her lean and long face, her lips thin even when rouged with red.

“What’s her name?” She demanded.

“How would I know? She lied to me,” was all Rhysand said. Amarantha tutted her tongue, turning back to Feyre.

“If you’re inclined to play games, girl, then I suppose we can do this the fun way,” she simply stated, and with a click of her fingers a body was pulled from the crowd somewhere near the front. Their face was hidden from you, but that mass of red hair, and that flash of gold, were two things that you would recognise anywhere. Lucien.

“No,” you whispered. Lucien thrashed against the Attor’s clutches as it pushed him to his knees before the High Queen. “No!”

You were running before you even had a plan, pushing through the bodies in the crowd, barely noting the curse from the Autumn Court male who’d had me gripped at his side moments before. You reached the front of the crowd, bare feet slamming against the ground, shoulders smashing into the people to push through. You were so close; a glimpse of Lucien threw me a warning from him, to stay away, to stay hidden, to not fight this battle. But you couldn’t stop yourself, propelling your body forward toward him as if to protect him. But an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, lifting you into the air, pulling you away from him, despite your thrashing, despite your best efforts. Aeryn.

Amartantha let out a squawk-like cackle that bounced from every wall of the throne room. “It would seem our little court whore has found her favourite client,” she mused, eliciting a chitter of laughter from those in the crowd who cared for her cold and dark humour. She flashed you a grin, raising an arched, red eyebrow, before turning her attention to Lucien. “Hold his mind.”

Rhysand stepped forward as she flicked her finger at him, and he bowed slightly. You thrashed and pushed and fought against Aeryn’s grip on you, but to no avail. You couldn’t reach him, couldn’t get to him to protect him in return. “Her name, emissary?” Amarantha asked, but Lucien simply shot Tamlin a glare, glanced over his shoulder at you for a long minute, and squared his shoulders. “I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.”

He was preparing for death, preparing to move to the next life, you could see it, and all for the fight of not letting Amarantha know Feyre’s name. You cursed him inwardly for his stupidity and selfless loyalty - usually a trait you would praise, but now realised would be his downfall. Amarantha turned to Tamlin next, her hand poised in the air to give Rhysand the order to obliterate Lucien’s mind.

“Her name?” She asked him, your brother, the one who had saved you, had taken you in and cared for you as family would have. And he sat there, unmoving and unfeeling, despite himself. Lucien was right, he had changed. He was no longer the Tamlin who had walked the grounds of the Spring Court by your side, or who had wiped out those naga and kept you safe. He was a completely different person now, and you didn’t recognise the man who sat before you anymore. Your stomach dropped, your heart pounded, beads of sweat dropped from your neck and down your back. But you stopped fighting, and simply watched, as Lucien readied himself for death.

“I don’t suppose your handsome brothers know, Lucien,” Amarantha purred, looking to Aeryn, to the other Autumn Court heirs behind you.

“If we did, Lady, we would be the first to tell you,” said the tallest of them, the eldest if you had to guess. He was paler than Lucien, and his face was certainly colder and harder than his youngest brother’s. Amarantha smirked, and moved to twist her hand. You screamed again, thrashing and fighting against Aeryn, using every ounce of strength that you had to push free of him. Lucien stiffened, his spine rigid as Rhysand closed in on him, and you could barely hear anything over the sounds of your own wails, your pleads to spare him, to spare your only friend.

“Feyre!” You froze, the only sound audible to you being your own thumping heart, your own ragged breaths. “My name is Feyre.”

The Attor let Lucien free, and he sagged to the ground, his body shaking. You felt Aeryn’s shoulder sag, and took your opportunity, leaning down and sinking your teeth hard into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He yelped in pain, and his grip fell away, allowing you to fall to the floor and crawl to Lucien.

“Feyre,” Amarantha repeated, but you weren’t listening. Instead you were hauling Lucien’s head into your lap, crading him as best you could, stroking his hair, praying that his shaking might stop, that your own might fade away. “Well, Feyre. I promised you a riddle.”

“It’s ok,” you whispered, quiet enough that only Lucien could hear you. “I’m here.” You didn’t miss the slight shudder of his shoulders as you continued to stroke his hair, nor the tears that marked his skin and pooled against his mask, glittering against the bronze.

“Solve this, Feyre, and you and your High Lord, and all his court, may immediately leave with my blessing,” Amarantha continued from her throne, but your only focus was Lucien, was the slight whimper and groans of pain that he let out. “Let’s see if you are indeed clever enough to deserve one of our kind.”

Your ears pricked at that, and you listened as best you could, hands still stroking the emissary’s hair, as she began to recite her riddle.

There are those who seek me a lifetime but we never meet,

And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet.

At times I seem to favour the clever and fair,

But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.

By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet, 

But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.

For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,

When I kill, I do it slow.

A tumultuous silence rang through the court, and you wracked your brain for anything close to an answer, anything that might offer a clue to Feyre should she need it. Amarantha repeated the riddle once more, before leaning back in her chair with a smug grin.

“Think on it,” she said. “When it comes to you, I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, Feyre was dragged away, back to her cell.

It was Rhysand who helped you haul Lucien up to your chambers. He, at the behest of Amarantha, had all-but carried the emissary from the throne room, and you had followed, with every expectation that Rhysand would simply dump him somewhere. But instead, he pulled Lucien’s shaking form up the stairs to your chambers, and plopped him onto the bed with a sigh. You rushed after him, pulling the covers over Lucien quickly.

“Take off his shirt,” Rhysand said from the far side of the bed. “He’s burning up.”

“What did you do to him?” You snapped, heeding his word and removing the layer of blankets before getting to work on the brass buttons of his tunic.

“I didn’t hurt him, if that’s what you think,” Rhysand sneered, and you shot him a glare of disbelief. He simply sighed. “I didn’t reach into his mind to torment them, I did it to help him. I helped him think of something else, something better. I filled his mind with thoughts and memories of…something different.”

“What kind of thoughts?” You snarled. “Surely they couldn’t have been better if they left him like this.”

You spread his tunic, and Rhysand reached over, helping me to pull it down his arms before discarding it on the floor. You made quick work of pulling the strings of his loose shirt, and pulled that over his head too, revealing his toned, sun-kissed chest. You swallowed at the sight of it.

“Some people just can’t handle someone else intruding their thoughts,” Rhysand explained, but he winced slightly as you pulled back the red-head and checked his temperature on the back of your hand. He was burning up. “I didn’t…mean for this to happen. I was trying to help him. He should be ok soon enough.”

“A lot of help you’ve been,” you snapped. “You’re the only reason I’m in here at all!”

“Can you not see that I’m on your side?” Rhysand snarled, but his features were soft, as if the growl of his words had only come from the frustration of not being heard or listened to, rather than any actual fury. “I cannot, and will not, let you look at me as a villain anymore. Why do you think I do this, hmm? Do you think I enjoy torturing people, or keeping that witch’s bed warm?”

Your spine straightened as you listened, but you did not make a move to interrupt. You simply locked eyes with him and allowed him to continue. “I am as much a prisoner here as you are, as much a whore.” The words resonated in your chest, in your heart. A whore - it was true that he was one, that he took Amarantha to bed each and every night - but you had never thought of him to be so alike in circumstance to you. You had always thought he did it of his own volition. “I saved you from death, more than once. I saved him, too.” He pointed a finger at Lucien. “And now I intend to help Feyre in her trials.” He paused again, violet eyes flashing. “You are the only person that I have told of this. I would like to believe that you will not tell anyone, because if you do, it will be my own head on the chopping block next. I trust you, Y/N. Do you trust me?”

And despite yourself, you simply said, “I do.”

Because in truth, there were few people under that mountain that I could trust, and Rhysand, even through the torture and the pain that he had inflicted on so many, had come to my aid on more than one occasion, and now he was helping Lucien too. You couldn’t help but allow a small scrap of yourself to trust him, even if you knew you shouldn’t, even if Lucien had told me that you couldn’t.

But Lucien was sick, burning up a fever, and Rhysand had been the one there, once again by your side, trying to make things right, even though it meant a whole world of pain for him if Amarantha found out.

“Good,” he said quietly, with a small, satisfied nod. He glanced over his shoulder. “Now, I have to go. But look after him - a cool cloth to the forehead should do the trick, and give him some water to drink. Let me know how he is.”

And with that, he was gone in a puff of smoke.

Lucien murmured something under his breath, and you were quick to follow instructions. You were void of any clean cloth that you might use to cool his forehead, and so instead, you used what you had to your advantage. The material of your dress was thin and easy enough to rip a strip from the bottom, which you doused in water from a bowl filled in the washroom, and lay it carefully over his forehead. Next, you poured a glass of drinking water from the pitcher by your bed, and dribbled just a few drops past his lips. You waited, and after only fifteen minutes, the colour began to return to his cheeks.

“Y/N?” He murmured. His fever was already coming down - Rhysand had been right, and you had been right to trust him, you think.

“Shh, it’s ok,” you whispered, stroking at his hair again. “I’m here.”

His eyes fluttered open slightly. “My head is aching,” he groaned, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as he gazed over at me through thinned eyes, that golden eye reflecting your own slight smile back at you. “What happened?”

“Rhysand, he…he went into your mind.” You didn’t mention how he had replaced Lucien’s thoughts with something better to mask any pain that he might have felt. Lucien was too weak, and the way that Rhysand had told you made it seem as if it was a secret to be kept between the two of you alone.

“I-I don’t remember,” he whispered. “I only remember you, screaming.” You flinched at the memory. “And then you were there beside me.”

“I had to protect you as best I could,” you smiled softly. “I had to try. Just as you have always done for me.”

“Y/N,” he groaned again, and you nodded, leaning forward slightly, waiting for his word. “Please never, ever put yourself in danger for me again, or I might go back to hating you.”

He smirked, barely, but enough that you knew he was joking, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. “Well, at least I know that you don’t still hate me, even if there is a chance that you might hate me again later.”

Lucien smiled, a bright smile, despite the grogginess, and for a moment you felt everything around you light up in a way that it hadn’t before. Until, that is, his smile fell, and his brow furrowed into a frown. “Feyre, is she…?”

“She’s ok,” you whispered in reply. “She’s fine, for now.”

He let out a light sigh of relief, and then looked at you again. “You looked after me?”

“Someone had to. You had a fever,” you shrugged, turning to make yourself busy with the basin of water on the table beside you. “Would you rather I had left you at the mercy of Rhysand, or worse, Amarantha?”

He blinked slowly, and then glanced down before blinking back up at you, a small smirk playing on his tired lips. “And you removed my shirt,” he said smugly. “And we’re in your chamber.”

You could feel the heat rising up the back of your neck to your ears and cheeks. “What of it?”

“If you wanted to get me into bed that badly, you could’ve just asked,” he said, letting out a low chuckle. With that, you let out a huff and disappeared into the washroom in search of clean water. “I’m sorry,” he called after you. “I didn’t mean it, come back.”

Hesitantly, you filled the bowl with clean water and returned to the bedroom. He had leaned himself over the side of the bed as if trying to see you through the door, and the cloth that you had placed on his forehead had fallen to the mattress. He smiled when you reappeared, tutting your tongue as you pushed him back into the pillows by his shoulders. The covers had fallen from him with the movement, and you tried not to look at the light spatter of auburn hair on his chest that led down, over the curves of his hard, toned abs, into a little trickle that led even further down, down, down, to become hidden below his trousers. Your cheeks flushed, and you did your best to shake it off as you dipped the cloth back into the basin, ringing it out. “Did - Did you rip your dress to make that cloth?”

You raised an eyebrow, but did not look at him, not as you shook the excess water from the cloth. “There wasn’t much of the dress there anyway,” you muttered. “I figures a little less wouldn’t make that much of a difference.’

You turned, placing the cloth on his forehead once more, an action that made him shudder as the coolness hit the heat of his skin, but before you could pull away, he grasped your wrist gently, pulling you back toward him. “Lie down,” he said quietly. You blinked slowly.

“I can’t,” you said in reply. “You’re sick, you need tending to.”

“I will survive,” he chuckled lightly, but when those russet and gold eyes met yours, there was no humour there anymore. “Please, just lay with me for a while.”

“Why?” It was all you could manage to say.

“I have taken up residence in your bed for the night,” he smirked. “It is only right that I share, otherwise what sort of gentleman would I be?”

You huffed out a slight laugh, but his gaze held you, and eventually you gave him, rising to your feet, circling the bed to the other side, and slipped under the covers. The silk was soft against your bare legs, against the skin left open from your skimpy dress. And as you curled under the covers, Lucien’s strong arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, until your head was resting on his chest, soft and hard and hot and cold all at the same time. A warrior’s body, and a lover’s body. You allowed your eyes to close, allowed yourself to listen to the beat of his heart through his chest, the slow and deep inhales of his breath, to smell his scent, so close, and so intimate now.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?” You whispered in reply.

“For protecting me,” he said into your hair as he planted a sweet and fleeting kiss to the top of your head.

And then, as you had allowed the sensations of him so close to take over, you also allowed sleep to come.

#ACOTAR #ACOTAR fanfiction #ACOTAR fanfic #Lucien Vanserra #Lucien #Lucien ACOTAR #Lucien Vanserra fanfiction #Lucien Vanserra fanfic #Lucien fanfiction #Lucien fanfic #Lucien x reader #Lucien Vanserra x reader #Lucien x you #Lucien Vanserra x you #Lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra x y/n #rhysand #feyre #tamlin #elain #nesta #cassian #mor #azriel #amren #amarantha #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

[thecatsaesthetics]

Day One of Feyre Week - 03/18 Lady of Many Faces/Immortal with a Mortal Heart

Prologue and Chapter One of my new fic inspired by some of the prompts for Feyre week! Read below or on AO3

Prologue:

Lady of Many Faces -

Feyre Archeron had died. She died months ago, under a cold mountain. It was a tale everyone in Pyrthian knew, lesser and higher fae alike spoke of it openly. The brave human girl who had defeated the abdominal Amarantha. She had faced three tasks, each more daunting then the next, and yet she mastered them. It did not stop the so called Queen from torturing her and attempting to kill her. In the moments before her death Feyre answered the Queens riddle and broke the curse on the High Lord of Spring. In turn he killed Amarantha, but not before Amarantha had snapped Feyre’s neck.

The story would have ended their, if not for the High Lords who brought her back, not as a human but as a High Fae. Feyre Archeron had been granted the life of an immortal, and afterwards her High Lord took her back to his manor. Again the story should have ended here, Feyre should have become the Lady of Spring, Lady of the Manor, the wife of the High Lord.

In the months that followed her death and rebirth a new rumor arose, one of heartbreak and hardship. The Lady Feyre was not as happy as she should be, and servants gossiped of how she was ill and sickly, not fit to be the Lady of a the Manor. Other servants spoke of the bargain she had made with the High Lord of the Night Court, and when he would come to claim her.

A week for the rest of her immortal life; three weeks in Spring and one week in Night.

Villagers closest to the manor house also whispered of the High Lord’s behavior. Of locking the Cursebreaker up, of refusing to allow her from the manor. Whatever truth of it, the people in the surrounding lands hardly ever saw Feyre Archeron wander from the manor. The only ones who saw her were in the servants within the manor house.

Villagers spoke of her trials, of her challenges, of her death as though they knew her. Rarely did anyone come into the villages who actually claimed to know her or spoke with her. It appears for whatever reason the human now fae was trapped with the manor house.

Again the story would have ended their, the human turned immortal trapped within her happily ever after, but then the wedding night happened.

Feyre and the High Lord of Spring married, though some claimed that Feyre had to be dragged down the altar by Ianthe, the High Priestess, but chaos erupted that night. Villagers opened their doors the next morning and felt a coldness in the land.

For the first time in the history of the Spring lands it was winter…

Chapter One:

Immortal with a Mortal Heart -

"The tithe is customary" Lucien said.

I sighed, irritated, we had been having this fight for an hour. I would not budge, I would not bend, and sure as hell Lucien would not tell me how to handle my own lands. We were in the gardens of the Spring Court, and I frowned as I saw frost delicately cover the flower buds. This wasn’t right, I needed to fix it.

"I don't care if it’s customary, it’s cruel and barbaric.”

"Feyre be reasonable" Lucien spoke, "you need to be able to provide for the manor."

"The manor is the least of my concerns; the lands are broken Lucien. Our lands." I gestured around. The flowers would not bloom, the ground was cover in snow.

“We also have more then enough funds to cover the manor. I had them read me the reports” I said.

I had employed a scholar to read me the expenses of the Spring Court and I had a sentries survey the land. Amarantha had utterly depleted it, the people needed help with rebuilding homes, with reorganizing farmlands, and countless other things. Looking over the court and manor expenses and we were easily covered for years to come. The surrounding villages, they had and were suffering. I couldn’t abuse them further.

"The court hates you" Lucien spoke honestly, "they don't believe you are worthy of it, they still remember Tam..."

"Don't" I cut him off "I don't want to hear his name ever again" my heart ached when I thought of him, of what had happened.

"Feyre I know we never talked about it..."

"And never will" I growled; I was done with this conversation.

"You need these people on your side, if what we suspect is true...

I frowned, not interrupting him, but my claws were threatening to expose.

"You could end up the enemy of every single court, you need protection, alliances. For whatever reason the land chose you, but you don’t even know how to switch off the seasons.”  

"I don't want to hear this" I said,

"You need to, you were a human Feyre and your body might have changed but your mind is still that of a human. The High Fae do not think like you do, they do not care about the lesser fae. They want the traditions, or they will not respect you. You must hold the tithe."

               Alis comb my hair before going to bed that night and I let Lucien’s words repeat in my mind. At first I had refused to take the High Lords chambers, but after much coaxing from Alis she convinced me that it was necessary. I slept even worse in the bedroom of the High Lord then I did my old chambers.

"Will you invite your sisters here?" She pondered.

"No" I said without thinking, "I doubt either would be very interested in coming to Prythian and I don't believe having them here would cause anything but issues with the court."

I think Alis was expecting me to be heartsick over the idea of never seeing them again, and while we had been on good terms when I last saw them I doubted we would ever be close.

Alis continued to comb out my hear, humming lightly.

Was Lucien, right? I wouldn't dare let the question out of my head. Could he have been right? Would the Spring Court reject me if I don't enforce these archaic traditions? Is this what Tam... he had feared? Why he had been so focused on tradition, on enforcing his father's old ways.

Alis put away the comb and I crawled into bed, fearing entering my gut.

"Tamlin I..." I stuttered, words refusing to leave my body. The room was dark, and I could barely see Tamlin, but the memories washed over me.

"Did you want to humiliate me?" He demanded, I felt him grab my arm "in front of the whole court, to run away from the wedding only to have lanthe drag you back down that aisle?"

"Tamlin, I just can't live like this, I'm drowning" I said, my throat closed and I choked out the final words. I was living this out again and again, I was no longer in my body I was watching and saw my power explode. I saw as Tamlin became nothing but blood and ash.

I then was on the cold dark ground and I heard a familiar laugh. I saw red, red hair, red blood… red everywhere.  

"Your mortal heart is nothing to us" Amarantha said, and I felt my bones break, my neck snap, and I heard someone calling out my name... screaming it...

I bolted up, launching myself into my adjoining bathroom and vomited. All I could think of was Amarantha’s words, my mortal heart… my fickle, meaningless mortal heart.

The great hall of the Spring Court was marble and gold; with the morning light coming in from the windows it looked like a throne room. Even as the daughter of a wealthy merchant I had never seen such wealth. Lucien had informed me that it was not a throne room, but I wasn’t sure what else would do it justice. A small part of me wondered what it would be like to paint this room, all the golden colors and delicate marble… The seat of a High Lord.

But today wasn't a day for painting, I had made my decision, despite all of Lucien's advice. The high fae of the court had already filtered in, Lucien had insisted no lesser fae be here today, hoping to calm any tensions.

I took a deep breath as Lucien helped me to the dais and I sat on a golden throne far too big for me.

This was my first time addressing them; my court. Most knew me, but they knew me as Tamlin's pet, until the night of the wedding that was all I had been. The human girl turned High Fae, the one who had died under the mountain. My hands trembled, an illiterate human, a half wild girl, a girl who had died... how was I supposed to command a court of Pyrthian?

Even if I didn't feel like a High Lady, Alis had dressed me as one. She had brought out what she called the "finest of gowns", it was a vibrant shade of gold, it wasn’t as poofy as my wedding gown had been, thank the cauldron. Still it was a formal dress that I had rarely ever worn, it had high waistline, pear details on the neckline and a massive ribbon bow on the back. The dress swallowed me up, but worst was the crown she had placed upon my head. It was made of solid gold and was encrusted with emeralds; it was so heavy I strained to lift my head.

I had argued against the crown, but Alis and Lucien had again insisted, so I eventually agreed. Alis had also painted my face and attempted to make me look more appealing to the crowd. But the lack of sleep, the lack of holding food down... I had taken one look at myself in the mirror and shuttered. I was a ghost. How could they ever see me as a High Lady.

In the very front of the crowd, I saw lanthe, in her blue hooded robe. She was the picture of loveliness and beauty, and I couldn't help but compare my scrawny body to hers. I was thinner than I had been at the wedding, and I doubt anyone would call me beautiful in my current state. Ianthe had the perfect serene beauty that all high fae females should have, one that you could imagine sitting on this throne. We had not spoken since the night of the wedding, but no anger showed in her face, and she gave me a warm smile.

Lucien called the hall to order; my hands were clasped tightly together to keep from shaking.

"Good people," I started, my throat feeling dry, "I know that I am very young, and..." I trailed off looking at Lucien, he gave an encouraging nod.

"I know that certain things are expect of me as your High Lord... Lady" Lucien cringed "High Lady”

“Speak up” I heard someone shout.

“We can’t hear you” another shouted.

I looked over at Lucien who again gave an encouraging nod. If only he could help me, do this for me…

“I believe that some traditions are better left in the past." I fidgeted with my hands. “I do not wish to open my…” I trailed off

I looked at the crowd before me, the only thing I could see was woman dressed in red... blood red... the blood of those fae I had killed... the blood that had been all that remained of Tamlin.

Killer

Killer

Killer

My throat tightened and I tried to speak, to say anything...

"What is she saying?" "Why has she stopped?"

The crowd began to speak among themselves, glancing from me to each other. I wasn’t their anymore, I was back in the study after the wedding… I had Tamlin’s blood on me, I saw Lucien’s horrified face, I felt the power hit me hard, overwhelming me.

Lucien tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of the trance.

“She’s insane” someone shouted “how can she rule the land”

I had to speak… I had to

“I’m abolishing the tithe” I forced out of my mouth and I knew in that moment I had said it all wrong.

The crowd erupted

“How will we pay for the manor?”

“How can she a human abolish centuries of tradition?”

“Who does she think she is?”

I heard them all and I could smell the court turning violent. A few of the high fae walked out the door, declaring I held no power of them.

"Please, it's an ancient tradition..." I tried to speak, but my voice would not force out the words. I

"Look at her" a familiar female voice said, and I lifted my head to see lanthe speaking "She can't even speak”

I tried to speak again but my throat was tight and dry.

"She's unworthy to rule, she killed our High Lord and has enforced some kind of magic on the court... to force the power to her" lanthe grew bolder.

"I..." I started to stutter

“The High Lord when he lived told me, she made a bargain with the High Lord of the Night Court. This was all a scheme of the Night Court. Kill our High Lord and put a puppet in his place.”

My heart began to pound, this isn't what I wanted.

Stop

Stop

Stop.

"Why should we follow her?" lanthe asked allowed. “How do we know she truly is our High Lady. I feel no Spring on her, I feel nothing but fear.”

"Close your mouth lanthe" Lucien spoke, "The power went to her."

"Only because she stole it" lanthe spoke to the crowd, and they were all soon discussing and shouting that I had stolen the power... They became disgruntled and I knew it was only moments before violence would outbreak... violence against me.

Help me, Help me, Help me.

I looked at Lucien, who looked just as nervous. His hand was on his blade, I looked to the sentries but even they seemed to be inclined to agree with Ianthe. No one would help me… I would be taken by Ianthe… she was right I had no power, I had nothing, since the power had hit me that night I didn’t feel it again. How was I worthy of being a High Lady?

Help me... someone help me.

As if hearing my call, a cloud of black darkness appeared at the back of the crowd, and a man emerged... it was Rhysand. Night and power radiated off him, it was enough to make the crowd go silent.

He was just as handsome as he had been when we last saw each other, I couldn't help but take him in. He was the most beautiful, and the most dangerous, male I had ever encountered. My mind jumped to the bargain, had he come to claim it? Or had he heard me? I looked down at my tattooed hand. Had I called him? Cauldron save me.

Our relationship under the mountain had been a tense alliance. Not one of trust, but by the end I did not believe Rhysand to be my enemy. He had beat on me, fought for me and even tried to save me when Amarantha killed me.

“So silent all of a sudden?” Rhysand questioned as he walked through the crowd, “Is this how the courtiers of Spring treat their High Lady?”

Rhysand clicked his tongue,

“Was Tamlin’s brute strength the only thing that kept you in line?”

Rhysand spoke with such ease, I was jealous of it. I wish I had that calm collective way of speaking. His eyes locked on mine, clear blue meeting dark violet. I could see the stars in them, I could sense the essence of night on him. Something in my chest locked and then... snapped. It was deeper than the bargain, it was like a tether that tied my chest to his. It was belonging.

It was the tether I had wanted to appear with Tamlin, the bond his parents had. It never had appeared, never snapped and tethered me to him. Yet looking at Rhysand I knew; I knew that I had a mating bond with him. I was the mate of the High Lord of the Night Court.

#feyre archeron #feyreweek2024 #feyre #feyre acotar #rhysand #feysand

[bythenineshards]

What Tamlin retcons are there, exactly?

@worldsnotsaid has excellent and incredibly detailed essays about this topic. I'd advise going to their blog and reading their stuff.

Recently, someone made a post (I don't remember who, but after I get done with this post I'll find it and mention them in a reblog or comment or something. But in it, they mention that any and all of Tamlin's behavior could be classified in the same boat as the behavior of all the Fae Males (cringe) in this series. He's not human and more animalistic. So something like Tamlin losing his temper when Feyre's wellbeing is threatened and threatening violence is pretty on par for the Fae. Cough cough Rhys loses his temper when Feyre's wellbeing (aka the ignorance he placed her under) is threatened by Nesta and he does what? Threatens to fucking kill her. It's all just Maas deciding whatever Tamlin does is bad but if Rhys does the same thing for the same reasons, he's good.

But you asked about recons.

I'll give you one that really grinds my gears. Tamlin's behavior Utm. A lot of people, Feyre included, like to twist what Tamlin did into something that it wasn't. And Maas thinks we're too stupid to notice. In Acotar, when Feyre shows up Utm, Tamlin has no power and is subservient to Amarantha. He is literally the same as everyone else (except Rhys). While Feyre does the trials, Tamlin is emotionless. Right? He gives Amarantha nothing. Thus keeping Amarantha from finding ways to hurt Feyre to get a reaction from Tamlin. He is saving her from torture.

Something like this sorta happens in PotC 3, don't judge me, but it shows what happens when you fail to deceive your opponent. Elisabeth and Barbossa go to Singapore to enlist the help of Sao Feng. While debating the situation, Sao Feng reveals he has Will. Barbossa pretends they don't know him. Sao Feng calls their bluff and goes to kill Will. Elisabeth gasps. This gives Sao Feng the upper hand. One tiny noise and favor falls to Sao Feng.

Tamlin holding this act for three months is actually a super effective action to show the reader that Tamlin cares. He knows this is going to be bad as is. He doesn't want to make it worse for her. In Acomaf, this is twisted as "He did nothing to help me" which is utter bs. The motive was clear in Acotar. No matter how much Maas wants you to believe this new angle she's pulling out of her ass.

The next part of this retcon is the last night before the final trial. Feyre complains in Acomaf that Tamlin did nothing to help her Utm and all he wanted was to fuck her. First off, shut up Feyre. In Acotar, she was down to clown. In fact, it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure she initiated it. He had no power Utm until Feyre solved the riddle. He had no idea what the trial was. And why would he do something as selfish as to leave everyone there to suffer? Why would he start asking a bunch of questions? It would draw attention to Feyre. You know, that person he's trying to protect by pretending not to care? Wouldn't anyone get sus that he's asking about that human he supposedly doesn't care about.

Also, within a book like this, it's pretty common to reiterate to the reader and MC what they are fighting for right before the climax. In Feyre's case, it's freeing the love of her life. So the reminder for Feyre of her goal before the climax is a climax (...sigh... Even I'm not proud of that and I'm an unabashed monster fucker). Having her get one final moment with Tamlin the night before the last trial is a reaffirming of her goal. Was it dumb in that situation? Yes. If this was a was a movie, I'd be sternly saying how stupid they are. Should it be twisted to make Tamlin look bad? No. Realistically speaking, with everything we know about the situation, it's unlikely he had anything to offer her other than to show her how deeply he cares for her. To show that despite pretending not to care, he does love her. I'd also point out that Maas never really has any other...methods of showing love other than sex. Her relationships are as shallow as a kiddie pool in July.

It can also be interpreted that he has faith in her to finish the trials. Which is refreshing and funny, considering if she didn't literally have the answer handed to her in the second trial, she and Lucien would be dead, and the Courts would be trapped forever under Amarantha. Honestly, besides the Wyrm, she's basically handed everything. But I digress.

I hope this was enlightening.

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti sjmaas #sjm critical #ask holly #thanks anon! #anon asks #answered asks

[illyrian-dreamer]

Frozen Flames (Part 7)

Lucien x Reader

Summary: You and Lucien have been growing closer. That is, until you find out he’s mated...

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence. 

Get ready for a fight!

Word count: 1,572

Part 7:

∇

The next morning you woke in Lucien’s bed while the male slept next to you, his heavy arm draped over your midriff. The weight of him calmed you, sinking you further into the mattress. You couldn’t help but reach out, tucking a long auburn strand behind his pointed ear as he breathed deeply.

You sighed, knowing you had duties to attend to, and you needed to leave the warmth of his bed. Kallias had mentioned a mission in Autumn Court before Solstice, but hadn’t given any detail. You were to meet with him today.

You carefully slipped out from Lucien’s arm and padded across the room, picking your clothes from where they lay on the floor from the night before.

Turning back, you stole one more look as Lucien slept undisturbed in his bed, strong limbs now sprawled across the bed. You noticed the fire dimming from the corner, and placed a few more logs to keep the male warm while he dreamt through the morning. You wouldn't want him to feel cold.

You had a busy morning of checking in on the orphanage and homes of the less fortunate of Winter Court, delivering wood and belated Solstice gifts from the High Lord. You beamed at the delight of the children, tears stinging at your eyes as they laughed and played with new toys, a few fighting over the presents.

While the orphans were few, there were more than ever before – a result of Amarantha’s reign. Many of their parents had sacrificed themselves to rescue Kallias from Under the Mountain, each one of them unsuccessful against the magic she stole. You remembered their faces, Amarantha ending each of their lives in cruel and unforgiving ways, their bodies left for weeks to make an example of them. You wished you could tell the orphans how brave their parents were.

You were much older than them, but shared their sadness – left without a parent in a time when you desperately needed one. With a few tears escaping you, you let your heart swell at their momentary happiness on this holiday, and paid gratitude to the Mother above that you had at least grown up with one parent.

It was midday by the time you returned to the castle. You were hungry, and thought you might see if Lucien had woken yet. There was a cozy tavern in the heart of the city that made the best pies in all of Winter Court, perhaps he would like it there?

You turned to make your way to Lucien’s guest room, to instead find a maid hurrying to you.

“Lady Y/N,” she gasped, out of breath from running. You frowned at her urgency.

“What is it?” you asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder to steady her.

She panted, clutching at her chest. “The High Lord, he wishes to speak with you urgently.”

Your frown deepened. “What is this about?”

The maid shook her head, slowly regaining her breath. “Unsure my lady. Please, find him in his office.”

You nodded, steering for the direction and making your way to meet with Kallias.

You didn't bother knocking on the office door before you flung it open. Your cousin sat at his desk, his face grave as he stared straight at you, chin resting atop his hands in deep thought. Viviane was there, one hand on his shoulder, her eyes softening as she saw you.

“What’s happened?” There was no point with pleasantries. “Have we been attacked?”

“No,” Kallias answered tightly.

“It’s not of that nature,” Viviane added, making her way over to you and guiding for you to sit. You did so reluctantly, your face riddled with confusion.

Kallias’s face gave nothing away. There was a moment of silence between the three of you – it drove you mad.

“What–?”

“It’s Lucien.”

You blinked. “Lucien?”

“Tell me you didn’t spend the night together,” Kallias said.

You scoffed at your his audacity. “Not that it’s any of your business cousin, but perhaps I did.”

You waited for any sense of playfulness from the High Lord, but instead he sighed, burying his face in his hand as he shook his head in dismay. Viviane’s face dropped as she glanced between the two of you.

They weren’t telling you something.

“What is it?” you asked quickly, your heart already in your stomach.

“I’m sorry Y/N, we had no idea. We were informed just now,” Viviane said softly, her eyes full of sympathy.

“Informed of what?”

“Lucien,” Kallias said, taking a deep breath. “Lucien is mated.”

Your heart stopped beating – your stopped moving altogether. You were sure the blood in your veins stopped flowing, freezing as the words shook you to your core.

“Mated?” you repeated.

Kallias sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Red filled your vision then. You could hear Viviane apologising again, a soothing hand patting your arm – but your heart pounded in your ears, her words and touch a world away.

“When?” You swallowed, and you could feel frost glazing over your eyes.

Kallias looked at Viviane nervously, knowing what that frost could do. “Last spring. Before the war.”

Ice began to form at your fingertips, causing Viviane to withdraw and return next to her mate. “How is this possible?” you said, your eyes focused in the distance.

“We’re not sure why it was never mentioned.”

“Because he kept it a secret,” you said, your voice laced with ice. That bastard. That lying bastard.

“It seems so,” Viviane said sadly.

“I’ve asked him to pack his things, cousin. You won’t have to see him again.”

The ice reached your veins then. “Where is he?”

Kallias and Viviane exchanged a look. “Why?”

You ignored their question. “Where is he?” you repeated, trying to keep your anger under control. Your anger – it had been so uncontrollable lately.

“In his room. Packing,” Kallias offered, knowing he couldn't stop you.

You stood immediately, rage blinding you as you made your way to find Lucien.

That insidious, selfish bastard. How dare he use you for his own pleasure while having a mate.

Your heart thundered in your ears as you did your best to to conceal your magic, ice itching to erupt from your fingers, leaving a trail of frost-kissed marble as you stormed to find him.

Lucien’s door was in front of you now, and you could hear the males heartbeat from within the room. Icy rage had you raising your palm to the entrance, and a blast of cold magic sent his door flying open.

Lucien whirled, his metal eye whizzing as he looked at you, bewildered.

You stepped past the bags at the door, marching right up to the red headed male.

“How dare you,” you seethed.

“Y/N, I can explain.”

You pushed at his chest, shoving Lucien back as your rage answered for you. “Explain what?” you spat. “Explain how you took me to bed, without so much as a thought to tell me you’re mated?”

Lucien let you push him, his palms already raised in surrender. “Please, just listen–”

But you were too far gone to listen to his sorry excuses. You had trusted him, you had let him woo you. And he betrayed that trust.

“Leave, and never return,” you hissed, turning for his door before you could actually hurt him, untrusting of your own rage.

A hot hand caught your wrist, the heat of Lucien’s skin burning against your cold. You snarled at him, trying to pull your hand back.

“Y/N, stop, it’s not what you think–,” Lucien was close to yelling now, his frustration building. “Let me explain!”

You had struck before you knew it. Ice hissed against Lucien’s skin as he recoiled, steam evaporating from him as he stared at you in shock. You panted, your eyes an eerie white as cold clouded your vision.

Lucien’s face turned from hurt to anger in an instant, and you could feel the heat radiating from him at this distance. He eyed the magic that continued to build at your palms, your hands raised to attack. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled.

You snapped again. An sphere of ice magic shot straight for Lucien’s head. The male ducked with not a moment to spare, using his own fire magic to evaporate the ice into thin air.

Lucien turned back to you slowly. He was furious. He stalked towards you, but you held your ground, staring up at the male with nothing but hate in your eyes.

Lucien grabbed both your wrists, pushing you against the wall and trapping you in his large hands. His russet eye glowed like embers, the metal one fixed and narrowed.

“Try that again. I dare you.”

He was close now, so close you could feel his breath on your face as he snarled down at you. You hated him, but hated yourself even more for the sudden urge to close your lips of his. You could feel the ice leaving your eyes, as if his proximity alone melted your defence.

No – enough was enough. He would not make a fool of you again. You grunted as you shoved him off, Lucien releasing your wrists as he staggered back.

“Have you calmed yourself now?” he asked, a mixture of anger and cruel amusement laced in his voice.

“Get out of my court,” you spat, before pushing yourself from the wall and slamming his door shut behind you.

Lucien didn’t chase you this time.

--------

AN: Alright, we’re here now. We’re doing lovers to enemies to lovers. Strap in tight! 

Also hope you liked this part/comment to join the tag list/thank you for reading/love you forever <3

Tags: @jazmin2211​ @timecharm​ @itscaitymoore​ @honeyrydernot @brekkershadowsinger​ @fall-myriad @iceystars404 @kennedy-brooke @marigold-morelli @judig92 @cosmic-whispers @issybee0611 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies

#lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #lucien fluff #lucien angst #lucien vanserra angst #acotar angst #lucien x reader #mating bond #sarah j maas

[algumaideia]

Everything that Rhys did makes no sense whatsoever and why he’s a bad ruler

I was going to make an organized post, there would be sections and everything... but then I found myself incapable of writing so it is gonna be messy. 

A lot of people say that in the first book you got really angry with Rhys, but then you discover the meaning of what he did and you fall in love. But what was supposed to happen was to you think WHAT THE HELL?? Because his actions are the most illogical possible. I’m not blaming anyone who thought that, because I also ate up that bullshit. Now allow me to explain why every single decison he did was completetly stupid. 

So, basically he locked his friends in Velaris, put a spell to everyone who knew Velaris to forget about the city(I just would like to remember that they were already under a spell that made them incapable of talking about Velaris) and then tortured, killed, punished, terrorize people for Amarantha. All of that to protect Velaris. A hidden city. *Sigh*

1. He locked the authorites of his country in a city, so the whole rest of the court had no help against Amarantha. 

2. How doing all that bad things for Amarantha helped the hidden city to remained hidden?

3. How drawing attention to Feyre helped her UTM? How sexually abusing her, drugging her, mind raping her, helped her win the trials? 

4. He was doing that to make Tamlin angry, but he was already angry?? Amarantha was torturing his last friend and the love of his life, she was also almost destroying his court. So, this was complete pointless. 

Now about Illyria and the Court of Nightmare. Why Rhys let those two groups opress women for all that time? His excuse for Illyria is that this kind of change takes time. Yes, Rhys it takes sometime. But you’ve been ruling for centuries and NO change have been made. What about the court of nightmares? He didn’t even mentioned them. What kind of feminist is that?

But he made Feyre the first High Lady. Yeah he made a girl who can barely read, who knows nothing about the history of his country, about his culture the High Lady. A girl without any diplomatic skills, that wasn’t able to discover the easist riddle of all the time. It was so obviously that the answer was love that it was ridiculous.

The high lords meeting was also horrible. I mean, Rhys has been acting like a horrible person for centuries and now he wants to everyone to believe that this was just his persona. Also why Helion and Kallias acted like they were friends with Rhysand? I thought that they were bad guys for everyone, and if they weren’t did Rhysand tell them why he allied with Amarantha? The Night Court is known for being a horrible place only in the Spring Court or in the whole Prynthian? Why Tarquin tried to have an alliance with Rhys when he could talk to the others High Lords? I also think it is pretty funny that the Inner Circle went to this meeting without their maks to show their true selves and then Azriel almost killed the son of a High Lord and they all agreed with him. This was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting and it was everything but it.

Other point Rhys could have made this meeting just after Amarantha was killed, he knew about this for a long time. But he waited Prynthian to be attacked before doing that. 

He stole Tarquin’s book. And how dare him do that to Tarquin? Specially considering that he could have talked with him, explained the situation and then let his court use their book. But no, stealing is the only possible way of going. 

His persona is very nonsense, because if he wants so badly a better world and to be a better High Lord why he just acted like he was good since begining like a normal person would do? What is the point of doing that?

He also doesn’t care for his country, only Velaris. 

And why he thought that kidnapping the bride of another High Lord was a good idea during a almost war time????

This was my most confusing post, I think. I don’t remember the books pretty well and I’m sure I forgot some really illogical thing that Rhys did. I hope you understood something.

Best regards, 

Me.

Ps. Somehow Feyre that has no experience and knowledge ruling is as good ruler as Rhys. And this says everything you need to know about the author. 

#anti rhysand #anti sjm #anti feyre #anti acotar #anti acowar #anti acomaf #anti feysand #sjm critical #rhys isn't a feminist

[kitashiwrites]

Wave Upon the Sand - A Tarquin Fic: Chapter 4

Series: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas Characters: Tarquin, Cresseida, Varian, Feyre, Rhysand, Amren POV: Tarquin Rating: T Word Count: 3117 Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9818336

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Summary: Chapter 35-37 of ACOMAF from Tarquin’s POV.

Comments: The final chapter is upon us! I’m so sorry this took so long to post. Hopefully it is worth the wait! Thank you everyone who has commented, sent me asks, left kudos/likes, anything! It’s because of you guys that this exists right now. I hope you enjoyed this little foray into the Summer Court as much as I did.

As always, thank you to my lovely @illyriantremors for being the best cheerleader a writer could ask for. <3<3<3

Until the next fic (which may end up being sooner than you think... :3), enjoy!

-----

They joined us for dinner in our family dining room that evening. To my pleasure, she had worn the black diamond necklace, which suited her just as well as I thought it would. I swore I heard Varian make a choked noise when she walked in. Cresseida, to my surprise, eyed her appraisingly. “It suits you,” she said almost kindly. “That piece didn't fit here anyway.” Feyre bowed her head in thanks, but didn't take the unintentional bait. Varian watched Amren with curiosity, as though she were a riddle he needed the satisfaction of unraveling. However, she paid him no attention whatsoever as she debated with Cresseida over some ancient text.

Feyre had been chatting amicably with me, her smiles easy and relaxed. Rhysand was keeping close to her, though she didn't seem to be bothered by what was bordering on an invasion of personal space.

“You ate it right there,” I said with disbelief, raising my eyebrows as she told me about her day at dockside.

She shrugged. “They fried it with the other fishermen’s lunches. Didn't charge me extra for it.”

I let out a laugh, impressed. “I can't say I’ve ever done that—sailor or no.”

“You should,” she said earnestly. “It was delicious.”

“Well, maybe I’ll go tomorrow. If you’ll join me.”

She gave me a grin. “I’d like that. Perhaps we could go for a walk in the morning down the causeway when the tide is out. There's a little building along the way—it looks fascinating.”

Cresseida went silent suddenly, but Feyre, seemingly unaware, kept speaking. “I figure since I’ve seen most of the city now, I could see it on my way to visit some of the mainland, too.”

The question seemed innocent enough, but I still glanced at Cresseida. If this wasn't handled delicately—and quickly—we would be in very deep water.

“It's a temple ruin,” I said blandly, the lie coming to my lips easier than I liked. “Just mud and seaweed at this point. We’ve been meaning to repair it for years.” I still remembered the sick feeling I got from handling that evil metal box that now lay in the catacombs beneath the docks of Adriata, under the enchantments that now only I could break. The Book of Breathings. The unintelligible whispers that came from that metal box had snaked into my ears, so much that it made my very blood run cold just to think about it.

“Maybe we’ll take the bridge then,” she suggested, oblivious to my attempts to change the conversation. “I’ve had enough of mud for a while.”

I looked her in the eye. Why did she ask about the temple? Of all the things to bring up…

Another thought crossed my mind. Why did they want to come here so badly? Why ask about my trove? There were pieces of information, pieces of a puzzle that were all right there in front of me. All I needed to do was put—

She’s harmless. A small voice in my head said. My better judgement. She is kind, and sad, and broken. You saw her with your people—you saw how she treated them. How she treats you. Amarantha did not break that kindness.

It was true. She had given me no reason to distrust her.

Take her to the mainland tomorrow. That'll keep her from asking about the temple. She saved Prythian. She is your friend.

My worries faded away, until I couldn't even remember what I had been worried about in the first place. I could take Feyre to the mainland for a tour in the morning.

I smiled at her. “We’ll meet after breakfast. Unless Rhysand wants me for more meetings.” I turned to the bored High Lord and he waved a hand at me lazily.

“By all means, Tarquin, spend the day with my lady.” The possessiveness in those last two words was clear. Feyre braced her arms on the wooden table and gave me an easy smile. There was a flicker of distress in her eyes, but before I could ask her what was the matter, it was gone. “Tell me what there is to see on the mainland,” she said.

~~~

We left the palace early in the morning, just as the sun was coming up over the water. Feyre came out with a smile, but that inexplicable unhappiness in her eyes from the night before had still been there when met her at the door to her rooms. She also seemed to be very tired, and I wondered if we should have postponed it by a day or two. When I offered, she declined, the distress becoming determination, and we set off for the mainland.

It was nice speaking to anyone who was nearby. I loved that they were not afraid to walk up to us and start a conversation, though their warm greetings were nervous—guarded even—when they realized who my companion was. I wasn't surprised—they had survived so much here, and while they were grateful, they also wanted to distance themselves from the memories as much as possible and move forward. It was no fault of Feyre's, and I hoped that she understood that.

But as the day went on, she looked more and more tired. We stopped for a fried fish at the docks, which was indeed as delicious as Feyre had said. By the time the sun was sliding into the horizon, she finally admitted that she was tired and hungry, and so I bought her a baked fish pie as we headed back towards the palace.

Evening fell over the island all too soon, and we gathered in the dining room.

I turned to Feyre. “I know there are other places on the mainland to visit. Or we could always—”

“Unfortunately, we need to return home, by the afternoon at the latest,” Rhysand interrupted smoothly. “I have court matters to attend to, and we have been away long enough.” Feyre sat next to him, not saying a word. I felt a pang of disappointment at his words. Dinner with the Night Court had become somewhat of a normalcy now. I expected to see them there, to engage in conversation with someone other than Varian, Cresseida, or my other advisors. Dinner was quiet after that, with no one really sure what to say.

I walked them to their rooms, each step that took us closer to this final night with visitors making me sadder.

I kissed Feyre's cheek, fully aware of Rhysand’s watchful gaze. “I wish it wasn't your last evening. But perhaps I will see about visiting the Night Court soon.”

Rhysand placed his hand at the small of Feyre's back, not saying a word as she bid me good night.

~~~

I walked into my study to find Cresseida sitting at my desk. I stopped in the doorway.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Cresseida?”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” she asked without preamble, holding a folded paper in her hand. I could tell it was Tamlin's letter—the one that Varian had argued with me about a few days before.

“Where did you get that?” I asked harshly.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions, Tarquin,” she snapped. “You would put your entire court all in danger over a girl?”

I bristled at her tone. “I know what I'm doing.”

“Do you though?” She unfolded the letter. “Tarquin,” she read aloud, “I write this letter as an urgent request for your help. Feyre was taken from my lands under duress by the Night Court, and I believe is being held against her will. If you should come into contact with her, or she should pass through your lands, please let her know I am working tirelessly to find her, and if you are able—”

“Cresseida,” I interrupted.

“—please send word and we shall retrieve her in the safest manner possible.” She folded the letter back up. “That doesn't sound like someone who respects her decisions.”

“I confirmed—”

“I don't care what you confirmed! The Spring Court has specifically requested her return if she enters our borders.” She sighed. “I’ve sent a return letter stating she's here. Someone from the Spring Court should be here to collect her before they depart in the afternoon.” I stared incredulously at her, not quite believing what I was hearing. She almost looked sorry. “It's what's best, Tarquin. For everyone involved.”

“Being Princess of Adriata does not give you the right to act like you rule my court, Cresseida.”

“Your judgement has clearly been clouded—”

“He locked her up!” I snapped. “The Night Court rescued her, and—”

“That is not our concern, Tarquin,” she replied simply. “We sometimes have to make hard decisions, ones we may not like or even agree with, because they are what is right. She was entered into a bargain as a mortal that she should have been released from when she died for Prythian. She stayed, was engaged to Tamlin, and stolen from him.” She shook her head. “I do this not out of any animosity for her, or even Rhysand. I do this because I don't want to see my city wrested away from us again because we didn't do as the law demands.”

“The law,” I said hotly, “is what keeps Tamlin from going after her now. Do you really think, after all we’ve seen of them during this visit, that Rhysand would be so stupid to leave a loophole so simple for Tamlin to take her back? That's why Tamlin is trying to get the other High Lords to do his work for him. If Feyre didn't want to be in the Night Court, she wouldn't be.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked quietly. I nodded.

“I do.” I walked back towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

I stopped and turned back towards her. “To get them out of here and hope we don't end up in the middle of a war between two courts.”

~~~

I rushed down the hallway as the sun began to rise over the horizon. If I could just warn them, maybe they could leave before word reached Tamlin. I thanked the Mother that Cresseida hadn't thought to give the message to anyone who could winnow. I knocked frantically.

No answer.

I knocked again, but still nothing. I couldn't hear anything. I opened the door to Rhysand’s room.

The room was empty.

Well, his things were still there. Packed for their departure, and the bed untouched. As though he never went to sleep last night. I opened the connecting door to Feyre's door. The same thing.

A sparkle in my peripheral vision made me turn towards the dresser. Lying there neatly on the top was the black diamond necklace I had given Feyre. The one she had been wearing just last night.

“Tarquin!” I turned around and found Varian standing in the doorway, panting, his eyes wild with panic.

“We have a problem.”

~~~

“And so we came here immediately to let you know,” the guard finished. I felt sick to my stomach. The Book of Breathings. Stolen from right under our noses, my guards assaulted, and my court in absolute chaos. Many of the guards were currently in the healer’s wing, though none of their injuries were life threatening.

I couldn't even begin to imagine how they had managed it. The enchantments were keyed to me—to the Summer Court itself. And to have it stolen by people we had welcomed in as our guests…

Though I knew that it hadn't been confirmed, there was just too much evidence to ignore.

I felt anger at myself for falling for their act, betrayed that they would do such a thing to us after the hospitality we had shown them… especially by Feyre. The guilt in her eyes now made perfect sense. She had known exactly what they were going to do. I wondered idly if she had been in on this plan since they arrived, or if she had been involved after they got here.

“Tarquin.” I turned to look at Varian, who seemed uncharacteristically nervous. “The water.”

I looked to the bay outside the window to the dining room and found the sea choppy and dangerous—a mirror of my own feelings. I no longer cared how much they had charmed me, or if any of them had been genuine with me. The sea called for vengeance at this betrayal, and as it’s High Lord, I would give it what it asked.

“Lord Tarquin?” I looked up at the courtier who stood nervously at the table. “An emissary from the Spring Court is here to see you in the throne room.” I let out a curse. As if my morning couldn't possibly get any worse. I turned to Varian, who nodded.

“Send him in here,” he told the man. With a bow, the man left. Varian turned to me.

“Did Cresseida…?” His voice trailed off. I nodded, and he cursed under his breath as the door creaked open. The red haired man in fine clothes and a clearly well used sword that stood in the doorway before me was one I hadn't seen in a few months. His gaze, mismatched golden and russet, shifted between Varian and I before settling on me.

“Lucien,” I greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I knew exactly why he was here, but I wanted to hear it from him.

He walked up to the other end of the table and gave me a small bow. “Lord Tarquin, we received word from your court that the Night Court was here, along with our missing Lady Feyre. We hoped to be able to intercept them before they got away from us again.” The hope in his eyes made me hate to tell him.

“Yes, Cresseida unfortunately sent word without informing me. I am afraid that you have just missed them. They left in the middle of the night.”

Lucien's shoulders sagged, his expression weary and his eyes almost haunted. I wondered how long he had been searching for her, and what had happened since she had left the Spring Court.

“Should you come into contact with her again—”

“Lucien,” I said gravely. “If I come into contact with Lady Feyre again, she will be answering for crimes against the Summer Court.” He looked stunned.

“Crimes?” he asked incredulously. “What did she do?”

“That is Summer Court business, of no importance to the Spring Court,” I said flatly. I did not need another Court knowing that we had lost the Fae half of the Book of Breathings.

“Whatever happened, I can assure you that she was not a willing participant,” Lucien insisted. “She was kidnapped from the Spring Court by—”

“Yes, I heard about that.” An idea crossed my mind. “Tell me, Lucien,” I asked, “are the rumors true that Tamlin locked Lady Feyre up in the Spring Court?”

His posture stiffened. “No.” The clear lie wasn't even dressed up with an explanation. Likely less story to keep track of as he went to each court. “We received this letter not long ago from the Night Court,” Lucien said, changing the subject abruptly. He pulled a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his waistcoat and held it out to me. I looked to the Varian, who walked over to Lucien and took the paper from his hand.

I left of my own free will.

I am cared for and safe. I am grateful for all that you did for me, all that you gave.

Please don’t come looking for me. I’m not coming back.

“I mean, who would believe that she actually wrote this?” Lucien said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the realm. “She is illiterate.”

If that were the case, then Feyre's panic during the Second Trial suddenly made sense. I had never seen Feyre's handwriting, but I knew without a doubt this wasn't Rhysand's. Not that the handwriting was bad, but his penmanship was far more polished than this. Feyre had said that Tamlin respected her decisions, but I wondered if that was truly the case.

“Even if that is true, it does not change the fact that she has committed a crime.”

“But you know she would never do anything like that if she were herself,” Lucien argued, having not noticed that I had tuned him out. I felt pity for him. I wondered if he, or even his High Lord, knew Feyre completely. I wondered again if I had.

“I do not know that Lucien,” I said harshly. “Who can say who Lady Feyre truly is? We have only Under the Mountain and our own interactions to draw from, which clearly were different.” Lucien looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it.

“I can promise her a chance to explain, and nothing more,” I continued as I rose from my chair. “Princess Cresseida will see to it that you and your men have a place to stay for the night so that you may be on your way home tomorrow.” Lucien looked surprised at my blunt dismissal, but bowed his head.

“Thank you, for your generosity,” he said, though I could tell from his expression that this had not gone at all how he had envisioned.

“If there is nothing else, I must take my leave. I have business to attend to.” Without waiting for Lucien to agree, I walked past him, Varian close on my heels.

“Tarquin, that—”

“We need to go to the vaults,” I interrupted. Varian’s eyes widened in understanding.

~~~

“Tarquin, are you sure—”

“I don't blame you, Varian. You and Cresseida tried to warn me. The consequences of this are mine to bear.” We stood in the middle of the vault I had first taken Feyre to only days before. It was amazing how quickly things changed. I had placed the necklace back on a shelf, but I had hidden it behind the gaudy ruby and gold one. I didn't even want to look at it. I opened the chest in front of me, revealing a small fortune in deep red rubies that had an almost sinister feel to them. Blood rubies. I let out a sigh and took two rubies in my hands, and placed them in the velvet of a box with a mother of pearl dagger inlaid on the top. With a heavy heart, I took a third and placed it next to the others. “Have a courier deliver this to the Night Court immediately.”

And closed the box with a snap.

#Wave Upon the Sand #Tarquin #Tarquin fic #Wave Upon the Sand Chapter 4 #acomaf fanfiction #ACOMAF Chapter 35-37 #Summer Court #kitashiwrites

[algumaideia]

I posted 424 times in 2021

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#5

Everything that Rhys did makes no sense whatsoever and why he’s a bad ruler

I was going to make an organized post, there would be sections and everything... but then I found myself incapable of writing so it is gonna be messy. 

A lot of people say that in the first book you got really angry with Rhys, but then you discover the meaning of what he did and you fall in love. But what was supposed to happen was to you think WHAT THE HELL?? Because his actions are the most illogical possible. I’m not blaming anyone who thought that, because I also ate up that bullshit. Now allow me to explain why every single decison he did was completetly stupid. 

So, basically he locked his friends in Velaris, put a spell to everyone who knew Velaris to forget about the city(I just would like to remember that they were already under a spell that made them incapable of talking about Velaris) and then tortured, killed, punished, terrorize people for Amarantha. All of that to protect Velaris. A hidden city. *Sigh*

1. He locked the authorites of his country in a city, so the whole rest of the court had no help against Amarantha. 

2. How doing all that bad things for Amarantha helped the hidden city to remained hidden?

3. How drawing attention to Feyre helped her UTM? How sexually abusing her, drugging her, mind raping her, helped her win the trials? 

4. He was doing that to make Tamlin angry, but he was already angry?? Amarantha was torturing his last friend and the love of his life, she was also almost destroying his court. So, this was complete pointless. 

Now about Illyria and the Court of Nightmare. Why Rhys let those two groups opress women for all that time? His excuse for Illyria is that this kind of change takes time. Yes, Rhys it takes sometime. But you’ve been ruling for centuries and NO change have been made. What about the court of nightmares? He didn’t even mentioned them. What kind of feminist is that?

But he made Feyre the first High Lady. Yeah he made a girl who can barely read, who knows nothing about the history of his country, about his culture the High Lady. A girl without any diplomatic skills, that wasn’t able to discover the easist riddle of all the time. It was so obviously that the answer was love that it was ridiculous.

The high lords meeting was also horrible. I mean, Rhys has been acting like a horrible person for centuries and now he wants to everyone to believe that this was just his persona. Also why Helion and Kallias acted like they were friends with Rhysand? I thought that they were bad guys for everyone, and if they weren’t did Rhysand tell them why he allied with Amarantha? The Night Court is known for being a horrible place only in the Spring Court or in the whole Prynthian? Why Tarquin tried to have an alliance with Rhys when he could talk to the others High Lords? I also think it is pretty funny that the Inner Circle went to this meeting without their maks to show their true selves and then Azriel almost killed the son of a High Lord and they all agreed with him. This was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting and it was everything but it.

Other point Rhys could have made this meeting just after Amarantha was killed, he knew about this for a long time. But he waited Prynthian to be attacked before doing that. 

He stole Tarquin’s book. And how dare him do that to Tarquin? Specially considering that he could have talked with him, explained the situation and then let his court use their book. But no, stealing is the only possible way of going. 

His persona is very nonsense, because if he wants so badly a better world and to be a better High Lord why he just acted like he was good since begining like a normal person would do? What is the point of doing that?

He also doesn’t care for his country, only Velaris. 

And why he thought that kidnapping the bride of another High Lord was a good idea during a almost war time????

This was my most confusing post, I think. I don’t remember the books pretty well and I’m sure I forgot some really illogical thing that Rhys did. I hope you understood something.

Best regards, 

Me.

Ps. Somehow Feyre that has no experience and knowledge ruling is as good ruler as Rhys. And this says everything you need to know about the author. 

114 notes • Posted 2021-07-20 12:14:01 GMT

#4

All the amazing things Rhystrash did to Feyre on top of my head:

(I also don't remember the books pretty well, so a lot of things are problaby missing)

Invade her mind

Drug her

Sexually assault her

Insult her by calling her human

Read her private thoughts about Tamlin

Break her arm

Tell Amarantha about her existence

Never apologize about what he did UTM

Put her on revealing clothes

Paint her like she was his property

Kiss her without her consent

Lick her without her consent

Make a deal with her for all the eternity when she was very vulnerable UTM

Use her fears to take advantage of her

Don't tell her about the pregnancy that is gonna kill her

Make her read creepy phrases about him

Send her to a suicide mission when she was bad because of her depression to get a ring so she could proove she was a good mate

Use her as bait without her consent

Don't tell her they are mates

Be a jerk around her because of his "persona"

Make her feel guilty for not talking to Mor when he was horrible to her and he knows the NC has a bad reputation because of HIS PERSONA

Don't mind his business and meddle her relationship with Tamlin

Don't mind his business and meddle her relationship with her sisters

Don't mind his business and meddle her relationship with Lucien

Make her feel guilty for saying nice things to Tarquin

Don't tell her about the whole picture

Make her the High Lady when she knows nothign about politics, the night court and basically anything

Put a MAGICAL SHIELD AROUND HER (cof cof Tamlin cof cof)

See the full post

124 notes • Posted 2021-11-20 18:57:56 GMT

#3

SJM treatment of Tamlin and why it is wrong

You know, she treated Tamlin so bad that only because of that I became his stan. That is literally the only reason why I am pro Tamlin. Just that. 

First, Tamlin did abused Feyre and Lucien in the second book. This is a fact. So don’t say that I’m here trying to appologize an abuser because I’m not. Actually the story that I wanted for Tamlin is that Feyre kicks him and go do whatever because I don’t care about her, Tamlin feels sad then goes after her, she says how bad he was and etc, Tamlin feels depressed because he realizes she is right, Lucien brings the Tamlin out of his depressive state through the power of friendship, Tamlin tries to be a better person, Tamlin becomes Tarquin’s friend, they both rebuild their court together. You see, my character arc for him has a part where he acknowledge he was being abusive(something that Rhys never did cof cof).

Anyway let’s start with why SJM treatment of Tamlin was wrong. 

I don’t know if my post needs it, but just in case. TW: abuse, ptsd, trauma, depression, sjm bad writing.

Ptsd, trauma and abuse

You know, at the same time that I know Tamlin’s abuse was wrong and horrible I also want to ignore it because, besides the negligence, it was just bad writing. What do you mean by bad writing? Well, let’s compare Tamlin’s ptsd with Kaz and one of my main characters. Why am I going to compare ptsd when I am talking about abuse? I am going to do so because Tamlin’s abuse is caused by his ptsd. Other point, I know it is imature, but I’m very insecure about my writing and compare SJM writing with mine makes me feel better. I’m sorry about that.

Kaz passed through a horrible experience and because of that he has extreme touch aversion. But the trauma and ptsd didn’t change his personality, they weren’t responsables to make a good kid become a rough boy that is the leader of a gang. The circunstances did it (I haven’t read the second book yet, no spoleirs). Of course that the trauma changed the way he interacted with people but what made him change was the fact that he was a lonely child with a heart full of hatred and desire for vengence living in a place full of thieves and gangs. Now Jafari, my main character, also lived a traumatic experience. He has nightmares, triggers and intrusive thoughts. However, the “basis” of his ptsd is that he ignores and avoids his emotions, his grief and his trauma. He doesn’t like conflicts, he is passive, he doesn’t deal with things, he just let things solve themselves. And that’s why his ptsd is based on him avoiding dealing with what happened and trying to process what happened. 

Tamlin’s abuse and ptsd is based on three things: anger, neglect and being controlling. To be fair the neglect and controlling part makes sense, but I still have problems with them. Now the anger is so weird. I don’t remember Acotar pretty well but during all the time Tamlin was UTM he had control over his actions and feelings. Amarantha wanted to hurt him by hurting his love and his friends, she was also problaby sexually assalting him. Tamlin saw Feyre being tortured, suffering and being sexually abused and he never showed any reaction because he knew if he did that Amarantha would make everything worse for her. Considering that how his ptsd and abuse is he having no control towards his anger? It makes no sense. 

In the first book Lucien insults and makes fun of  Tamlin all the time and Tamlin has no problem with it. Not only that but his court has no ranks, not like Rhys’ court cof cof. But now Lucien can’t give him even a suggestion that he is almost killing his only friend who survived during Aramanthas reign? Sigh That’s my problem with Tamlln being a control freak. And I aslo have the feeling that SJM only put it so then Rhys could say it is your choice all the time. 

About the neglect, Tamlin was trying to rebuilt his court, was dealing with his trauma and there was also the fact that Feyre wasn’t safe since other High Lords would be mad with her for having their powers. Tamlin neglecting Feyre is logical. But people forget that Feyre was also neglecting Tamlin. As I said I don’t remember Acotar pretty well but I think that Tamlin asked how Feyre was at some point, but Feyre never did that. She was all: ohhh Tamlin knows that I am throwing up and having nightmares why he does nothing? Tamlin isn’t sleeping well too, but he never asks me how am I doing. You want to blame Tamlin for his negligence towards Feyre? Good, do it, you are right. But Feyre did the same thing. She NEVER EVER even thought to ask if Tamlin was okay, or acknowlegded that he was also suffering. 

At least Tamlin tried to communicate with her, Feyre never did that. For example he gave her paints so then she could start painting again. And this was good, Feyre was depressed and that is why she didn’t painted. One thing that depressed people do sometimes is to avoid doing things they know will make them happy. Feyre was doing that. And this was also Tamlin trying to communicate with Feyre and she just ignored it and then was angry because he didn’t know that she couldn’t stand the color red, but Rhys knew. This is so wrong.

1. Rhys only knew that because he invaded her mind and discovered something she wasn’t confortable talking with anyone.

2. She never told about her problem with the color red with Tamlin. She never talked with him. How was he supposed to know?

3. This was the perfect opportunity to talk about that with him, but she didn’t.

Tamlin's ptsd was ignored through the whole series, he was treated as the worst person ever when Rhys who did the same things was treated as the best person in Earth and his logical actions were treated as stupid.

Tamlin’s “illogical” actions

You know, there is a lot of memes that say how Tamlin was stupid to think that Feyre would like to come back to him after spending sometime with Rhys. Yeah, how dumb! Why he would think that he love of his life would like to come back to him after being kidnapped by the guy who sexually abused her for months, the guy who joined Amarantha for no reason, the guy who has been known for torturing people and having a court full of miserable fae. Hahaha so dumb!! She even sent him a letter saying she didn’t want anything with him, and he was stupid to go after her anyway. I mean, the guy known for being a psycho that kidnapped her was also able to control minds so why wouldn’t he believe in the letter? Hahahaha. *Sigh*

A lot of people criticize Tamlin for colecting taxes in Acomaf, like how could he? People first, where do you think all Rhys money came from? His work? Second, it was the first time he did it in 50 years and he postponed it a month. He was trying to get everything back to normal. Besides taxes are an important part of a governament, it is from them that the governament can make things, like hospitals, better streets(at least they were supposed to do so). SJM didn’t make it clear what a HIgh Lord job is. She said that Tamlin job is to protect the Spring Court, but in every other moment it is implied that High Lord are likes kings so I don’t know. Anyway this makes perfect sense, congratulations to Tamln.

Then he allies with Hybern and people act like he did that to take Feyre back form Rhysand. How dumb! Hahaha. He did that to save his people. The Spring Court was in a delicated position, he lost a lot of his friends during Amarantha reign and they were problaby responsable to protect the Spring Court. The agreement would protect this people, got Feyre back and made him able to spy Hybern. And this is more than Rhys did. He only tortured people to protect a hidden city, nothing more. 

In the war meeting he had the all the right to be angry, but it wasn’t nice to say that about Feyre. I won’t say anything more because I could write a whole post about how wrong this meeting was. 

And finally he helped to resurrected Rhysand and it was put as an amazing thing. But it was nonsense. Why he helped the guy who kidnapped his love and manipulated her? Why he helped the guy who sent his love to destroy his court? Why he helped the guy who allied with Amarantha for no reason? Why he helped the guy who is known for being a monster for years? Specialy condering that this guy could get his powers. And after that Rhys decieded to visit Tamlin and make him more miserable than he already us. But that’s ok because Rhys is the best male. Not only that but Rhys now is visiting Tamlin oftenly in Acofs apparently. This makes me so ANGRY. 

This was my messy post.

Best regards, 

Me.

Ps. Sorry for writing makes sense and its variations too much, but that is because I don’t know English that well so my knowledge is very limited.

132 notes • Posted 2021-07-19 19:06:55 GMT

#2

I'd just like to say that I really like how honest Sevika is to Silco. She has no problem conplaining about Jinx with him and telling how it is not working. And then later she has no problem telling Silco why she didn't betray him and also that this doesn't mean she won't in the future. She is just so honest and she has no problem with it. I like that.

153 notes • Posted 2021-12-21 00:27:08 GMT

#1

I love how Pepa was like FELIX WE CANNOT TALK ABOUT BRUNO and then five seconds later she was like FELIX I'M TRYING TO TALK ABOUT BRUNO, CAN YOU STOP INTERRUPTING ME???

Anyway I just think it is funny because Dolores and Camilo were incapable of keeping the secret about Mirabel and the magic and like it is obviously something they got from both their parents.

210 notes • Posted 2021-12-28 20:19:08 GMT

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