#acosf tiktok | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladynestaarcheron · 2 years

Text

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Ten

ao3 - masterpost

hello there! i have been gone for many moons because i have a big girl job and am getting an MA. but here is chapter ten!

---

The sun hid behind clouds the day Nesta was born; terrified, her grandmother had once told her, of seeing her. It fled the same way the day of her funeral.

Cassian, however, does not shirk. He holds her hand tightly, walking with ease and confidence across the field he had flown her to, to the grey slab already waiting for them. Etched with an N, it sits unmoving among the anemones blowing with the wind. Stuck, forever.

“Do you want to start?” he asks her after a minute. She shakes her head once, too much caught in her throat to speak. He clears his throat. “This headstone is in memory of Nesta Archeron, a human girl whose life was cut short by a world she never asked to be part of. Even though her body was weaker than her oppressors’, they were still frightened of her because they knew how strong the fire inside of her was. She deserved more and if she had lived longer, she would have taken what she wanted herself.”

Nesta’s eyes narrow at a petal that has flown up against the stone, keeping her gaze steady. Cassian isn’t finished.

“Everyone who knew her knew there was something powerful about her. Most couldn’t handle it. The few who could loved her so much.”

Nesta’s eyes shut tight.

“She died how she lived: trying to protect her sister.”

She’s going to be sick.

“I wasted the time I had with her. I’ll always be sorry I couldn’t show her how beautiful the world can be. She’ll never know. But I hope she can rest in peace now regardless.”

Nesta focuses only on her breathing. Cassian puts his arm around her, at some point, or maybe it was always there. At any rate, it’s a while before she finally says, roughly, “I had no one.”

Cassian squeezes her shoulders. “You were never made for that world.” It isn’t cruel or mocking. He says it gently, truthfully.

“Do you believe I was always destined--”

“I told you I’ve never been very religious. I don’t claim to know what we’re destined for or who decides. We do the best we can with what we have.”

“I didn’t always.” She stops then, not hesitating, but as though something is stopping her. Then she forces out, “You hated me when we first met.”

“I didn’t,” he says immediately. “Of course I didn’t. I’ve never--I could never hate you, Nesta.”

It burns inside her, though--perhaps some dying ember of the fire Cassian had mentioned, or perhaps it is different, new, wicked. But she says, “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. And I won’t let you talk that way about the part of you we’re mourning. Don’t do that--fine, I was an ass. So were you. We were scared. We both know it. Don’t we?”

Perhaps the confession is grand enough that it should echo, but it doesn’t. The words dull into nothing in the air, leaving Nesta only with the imprint of them in her mind. Does she? Is that what it was?

“We knew what we felt and we were scared. And I felt it for that human girl, Nes, so don’t talk shit about her.”

Nesta’s eyes burn. Not in anger this time. She knows. She had not been perfect, but she was something. Something enough that Elain and Feyre had loved her, something that had captivated Cassian. Not nice or sweet or lovely but something, and now...

“You know, when I first came to see you alone, I thought about it. And I tried to push myself off you. I told myself there’d be no point; we’d only have a few decades.”

Nesta forgets to stifle her surprise. The heat of his confession drowns out her demons for a moment. That early, he had thought...he had truly thought...

“But you know I couldn’t stay away. And I...I wondered. If we had...if I had met you in Velaris, or if you had truly come from Spring. What it would look like then.”

Cassian’s voice drops; not husky, not sexual, but almost timid. No, that would never be Cassian. Not frightened. Impossible.

“I never wanted it to happen the way it did, Nesta. Never. Not even when I...because I never wanted to see you hurt. Especially not that way. And to have your whole life tied with that pain...I never, ever wanted that.”

When you what? she wants to ask, but he continues, unaware or uncaring of how she is overturning every word of his.

“Even though I had thought about it--wanted it--I was still scared. And I was furious at you--sorry, sweetheart--for making a coward out of me.”

Nesta doesn’t look up at his face. “I don’t know if...I know I wasn’t always rotten.”

“You’re not--”

“Things were getting better but I was never fully there before the Cauldron,” she continues, unperturbed. She doesn’t even stutter on her most well-kept secret. “I thought I could get by after. You kept visiting me and I felt I had something to live for with Elain and I was still trying, then. Because I had no choice. And even when--when Rhysand offered me that stupid position, I actually thought about it, and I don’t know what I would have said, but I thought about it.” Cassian waits for her to finish now, which is good, because if he interrupted her she would simply stop. “But after the war I went down again. It’s like--it’s like--there’s this afterlife belief,” she says, suddenly recalling something Agata had mentioned offhand one lesson, “that an ancient society had. The entire world rests upon the back of an elephant, and the elephant is on top of a turtle, and the turtle on top of another turtle, and it’s all turtles, all the way down. And I’m fears, all the way down. And if I was all right after the Cauldron, and then I wasn’t...then that means it’s me. And I’m going to keep falling and falling and there’s nothing anyone can do--”

“What do you mean, there’s nothing anyone can do?” he says, grabbing her arms and making her, for the first time since they arrived, look at him. Silver shines in his eyes. “Nesta, you’ll fall. And then you’ll get up. You are not fears all the way down. There’s so much more to you. And there’s me. And your friends, and the priestesses, and your sisters.”

His right hand moves to cup her face. They stay there, like that, taking each other in. Thoughts, roaring in Nesta’s mind, dull to a whisper, and then, as though he can tell, he pulls her to the ground. They lay side-by side at her gravestone, and when night falls, he points at the sky and tells her of the Illyrians in the stars, immortalized in the heavens above and brought to life again in the ink on his chest.

---

Neither of them says anything for longer than a while when they arrive back at the House, but for once, the silence doesn’t drown her. She isn’t going over her wrongs, or her demons, or anything in particular. Just a faint, gentle melody she can hear in the back of her mind. Perhaps she’ll put it to keys later tonight.

When dinner—quiet, too—ends, he asks, “Combat tomorrow? We can start a little earlier so we can have regular defense with the others.”

“I’ll see you there.”

His answering smile is brief, and he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. His fingers linger longer than they would have a few weeks ago, and the feel of them stay pleasantly, not in burning punishment, when she walks away.

Nesta takes her time in the bath that night, staring at herself in the mirror. She traces paths along her skin; her thighs, stomach, breasts, arms. Fae magic smooths it over unnaturally, but her light-ribbons dance along where stretch marks once had. A part of her, filling in the gaps the Cauldron had taken from her.

Beyond those, there is muscle, fat, where a few months ago had been bones and sallow skin. Her limbs are strong, her curves soft. Under the surface, she is not exhausted for lack of sleep; her head does not pound for a drink. She is alone and not afraid of the female she sees before her.

That night, she sleeps with her hair unbound.

---

Cassian is waiting for Nesta outside her bedroom half an hour before their normal defense time. He grins at her. “Ready?”

She doesn’t answer, walking past him and leading the way to the roof. She thinks back on the time she had seen him in combat: practicing, and in battle. Will this look like that?

“Your form is decent and you’ve got an adequate base of defense,” he starts, and her lips quirk. High praise. But secretly, she’s thrilled he isn’t coddling her. Perhaps he’s noticed a change, thinks she’s more capable now.

“And you’ve got those,” he continues, nodding at her ribbons, which twirl around her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with having extra magic, but we’re not going to start with that. We’ll only build on what you have.”

Nesta sizes him up. The near foot-and-a-half he has on her, the bulk in his arms and thighs, the hard muscle everywhere. “Is that even worthwhile?” She doesn’t ask to complain, only to know.

“Yes,” he says seriously. “Just because you’re smaller and thinner than any male doesn’t mean you can’t best them in a fight. I won’t pretend it’s not a disadvantage, but you can be smarter and faster and take them. If you can’t incapacitate someone with brawn, you can do it with brains. Remember when I showed you how to break out of someone’s grip from behind?”

She turns, so he can wrap one arm around her waist and hold her hands behind her back. He squeezes, tighter than he does in defense, but not enough to hurt. She goes through motions: head, elbow, then kicking away.

“Good,” he says. “Now, in just defense, here is where you run. But now we’re going to do it again, and you’re going to turn around, and you’re going to punch me in my neck. Why?”

Defense never came with quizzes, but Nesta’s quick on her feet. “Fastest way to knock someone out.”

“When you’re smaller than your opponent. Make a fist.”

Nesta does, thumb below the knuckles of her index and middle fingers, like she had read once in a book, but Cassian isn’t impressed. “Don’t drop your ring and pinky,” he instructs, straightening her fingers. “The line from your wrist to your fingers needs to be straight. Like that. Why are you standing like that? Move this leg back.”

Nesta follows his instructions, and the half hour finishes quickly. He morphs into a more subdued version when the other girls arrive, and she hides a smile. That’s surely a version of him only she gets.

Milling around after defense, Emerie starts chatting about the new Sellyn Drake novel she has brought to loan Nesta. She’d like teasing Gwyn with her, but today she changes the subject, and says, “You know, I never did get to meet your friends or your cousin in Ironcrest.”

Cassian and Azriel don’t try to be discreet as they eavesdrop, but Nesta ignores them.

“You don’t really want to go back there,” Gwyn says.

“Why do you want to see them?” Emerie says, skeptical.

Nesta shrugs. “Just from what you’ve told me, I’d like to meet them.”

Emerie raises an eyebrow and smirks slightly. She knows what Nesta’s up to. “All right,” she says. “You’re welcome whenever you can get someone to bring you.”

Gwyn looks over at Cassian and Azriel. “I don’t think you should go.”

“Oh, she’s fine, she’s got combat training now. Plus she’ll have her entourage. And her secret entourage.”

“Exactly,” Nesta replies. She turns to Cassian. “Sometime soon?”

“Why?” he demands.

“We’re thinking of starting a book club,” Emerie answers for her. “What do you care?”

“What do I care?”

“Just an hour or so,” Nesta says. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just visit Em’s cousin.” She waves off the rest of Cassian’s protests. “I’m going to bathe. We’ll talk, Em.”

---

No one takes Cassian’s side when he tells them of Nesta’s death wish. Azriel, who had been as taken aback as he was to hear Nesta bring it up, is now pretending like he expected it all along. Amren claims to not want to hear anything to do with Nesta unless it’s that she’s starting magic lessons again--another lie, as she stays to hear Cassian’s argument with Feyre when she firmly tells him Nesta can make decisions for herself.

“Not all of them, she can’t,” he shoots back. “Or have you forgotten why she’s at the library in the first place? She’s got a bit of a destructive streak, if you haven’t realized.”

“I’m surprised at you,” Az says. “You generally trust her.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust her,” he says for what feels like the tenth time this conversation. “It’s that there are rebels out to get her, who have previously attacked her in this camp.”

Amren breaks her ignoring to snort, and Cassian snarls at her.

“Enough,” Feyre says sharply. “Nesta wants to go, so you’ll take her. You can be her escort. Take whomever you’d like.”

“Rhys,” he says instantly, and the male nods once. “And Amren,” he adds, as an afterthought. They had assaulted Nesta with Rhys there, after all, but he’s sure they’ll all make themselves scarce when they catch their first whiff of Amren.

“What makes you think--”

“I said enough.” Feyre glares at all of them--even Cassian. As though he’s done something wrong. “What more have you discovered this week?”

Az’s turn to speak. “Nothing novel on Briallyn, but my spies have been hearing talk about the Blood Rite.”

Rhys and Cassian both speak sharply. “What about the Blood Rite?”

“We think they’ll be sneaking in weapons.” Azriel’s face doesn’t betray anything, but Cassian knows what he’s thinking: cancel it.

Rhys sighs. “All right. We’ll...gather more intelligence. We’ll raid their stashes a few nights before. No point in warning them we’re watching.”

Az nods once, but Cass doesn’t accept that. And anyway, the Blood Rite is his jurisdiction. “The boys are young. They can be taught. If we raid now, we can show them how we treat traitors. Remind them what they’re going to prove in the Rite. We’ll even scare off potential rebels.”

“That’s a touch optimistic,” Mor says gently, speaking for the first time.

Cassian doesn’t answer. Optimistic, to think Illyrians can be saved.

“No raid for now,” Rhys decides. “When we take Nesta, we’ll join the trainings.”

“Is that wise?” Feyre asks.

Rhys looks to Cassian. “Yeah,” he answers. “It’ll be good for the recruits to see Rhys. Watch me pummel him. Good for morale.”

Rhys laughs. “What about the trade deal with Summer, Mor?”

None of the rest of the conversation, which glosses in and out of business, captures Cassian’s attention. He’s too busy thinking about Nesta, about what she could possibly have to prove by going back to Illyria, to Ironcrest of all places. A matter of pride? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Her dignity, he has come to learn, is a quiet sort. She does not care what others think of her; certainly not rebel Illyrians. Who want her dead. And she’s brilliant--she can’t think that one combat lesson is enough to take...well, anyone.

Though she had been good. Fierce and determined and precise and lithe and soft again, finally, with her breasts and her thighs, pushing into him as she matched his every step, a few stray wisps of golden brown hair escaping her crown, framing her cheek, beckoning him to reach his fingers out and tuck them back behind her ear--

“Right, Cass?” Rhys says, making his eyes snap up. What had he missed? Oh, tomorrow. At Ironcrest.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Azriel pays Cassian’s mood no mind, and neither does Nesta the next day as Az winnows the pair of them to Ironcrest. Rhys greets Nesta, but Amren ignores her--how long will that last?--and she pushes past all of them to follow Emerie a distance away, waving her over.

“They’ll both be fine,” Rhys assures him, as Az disappears into shadow to tail them silently. Cassian doesn’t answer this, scowling at both Rhys and Amren’s backs instead as they lead him to wear the new recruits are training. He shrugs off his own irritation to concentrate on what he sees and what they know: someone is planning on compromising the Rite. Why? What could they have to gain--more bloodshed? Anyone seasoned knows that they don’t have soldiers to spare, and surely the recruits themselves are eager to prove their own capabilities, without the help of magic they may possess or weapons. Stupid, sure, but that’s what young males are. There are low-ranking boys here; the Rite is their chance to rise above their station. Only a siphon upon his hand can prove that a bastard is as worthy as prince--Cassian would know.

When Rhys walks among the training boys, he doesn’t greet them as he does the people of Velaris. They aren’t expecting that, wouldn’t want it. But he isn’t cold or harsh, either. He steps in to correct form, with littering in enough silent approval for them to secretly be proud of. It’s charismatic, it’s smart, it’s winning favor, and it surprises Cassian after when Rhys answers him laughingly, saying, “I was imitating you.”

His role as leader of the military is more of an afterthought of commander of the military. Not to him, obviously, but Illyrians don’t want a bastard to look up to. They’ll never deny his strength, his prowess, but the kind of respect Rhys commands is impossible for someone like him to have. That’s why the Rite is so important to him--younger soldiers don’t have to think that way. Things are better now than they were five hundred years ago, and can improve still. It won’t be easy or fast but it’s possible, and the way to do it will be through Illyrian tradition. Nudging them in the right direction slowly, over time--Devlon had let him participate in the Rite, hadn’t he? And now every male in Illyria can. That’s progress.

“How was it?” he asks Nesta, distractedly, as she approaches.

“Fine,” she says, but her voice is nearly trilling, and when he looks at her, she’s glowing. Cassian almost thinks the light ribbons are the culprit, but they are hidden wherever she keeps them--this is just Nesta.

“Let’s go, then,” she says, stepping closer to him.

Azriel, behind her, gives Cassian an amused glance--laughing at him, no doubt--, and as Cassian wraps an arm around Nesta’s waist, Az reaches out and touches Cassian’s shoulder and winnows them over the House. Cassian tightens his grip on Nesta as he lowers them, slowly, to the ground, where Gwyn is already waiting for them. Well, for Nesta, he presumes.

She bounds up and down, hood lowered and shining copper hair flying. Hands covering her mouth, she leans in to whisper something to Nesta.

She tilts her head, not quite turning to see him, and gives him a secretive smile. “See you later,” she says, taking Gwyn’s arm and ushering her into the House.

Cassian looks to Az. “What the hell is that about?”

Az shrugs. “I don’t know what she and Emerie did. I gave them their privacy.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t’ve,” he mumbles. He’s never seen her so...girlish. But he can't follow them into the library, obviously, so he’ll just have to wait till he catches her again. Probably tomorrow morning.

Az catches his thought process and laughs. “I can give you something to keep you occupied, if you need it.”

“I have enough to do,” he snaps, and jumps off the veranda, letting the wind catch him as he falls.

---

Cassian does not find much to occupy him beyond flying to the Court of Nightmares--unprompted; a first--to bark at the Darkbringers. He’s allowed to; he heads this army too, but it’s not as though he takes any pride in it. It is, however, an excellent way to make him appreciate how far he’s come with the Illyrians: the response his surprise visit gets from Keir’s soldiers is enough to make Ironcrest seem like a lover welcoming him back to bed.

But it does its job; banishing Nesta from his mind and tiring him out enough that when he flies back to the townhouse to sleep, he passes out quickly.

The next morning, Cassian trains by himself for an hour before Nesta arrives. He can hear her climbing the stairs to the roof, her delicate footfalls like the drumbeat to his heart.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks in greeting.

He jumps out of his lunge. “I don’t have time for chitchat, Archeron. Get in position.”

He doesn’t mean to snap at her--will she be hurt, angry? What had come over him?--but she only laughs a little, like she’s trying not to, and crosses the ring. “What position?”

None of this, he tells himself. This is training. Sacred. There’s no place for anything else.

But something had changed with her. He’s not stupid enough to believe it was a magical cure-all, but the funeral had helped. She had shed something she didn’t want to carry; she was lighter now, freer. She was Nesta and had not been friendly with Rhys or Amren, but with Gwyn, with Emerie, she had been quicker to laugh, fonder. She has been teasing him, he realizes, almostly absentmindedly straightening her arm in a punch. Her small smiles, her little quips--she’s doing them on purpose.

It’s too much for him to handle, this revelation. As their session ends, he opens his mouth to ask her what she did yesterday, but the priestesses arrive. He bites back a curse. Later, he determines.

But as he and Az demonstrate the practice for the day, walking around and checking the females’ movements, he realizes later may be sooner than he thought.

“So, you did it?” Lorelei asks Nesta eagerly.

She’s on her team, under Calliope’s instruction, Cassian remembers. Perhaps they are somewhat close; she has confided in her. Pretending to be invested in Deirdre and Ilana’s thrusts, Cassian listens hard.

“Yes,” Nesta says, breathless from her movements. “Nowhere anyone else would see, so it’s really just for me. But I love knowing it's there. I definitely recommend thinking about it.”

“I can’t believe you just did it,” Gwyn says, envious and awed. “I don’t know if I would ever.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Like needles, and kind of burning,” Nesta says, and Cassian’s heart drops. “But not nearly as bad as I was expecting. Definitely manageable. And it doesn’t linger much.”

Cassian forces his legs to move him to the other side of the roof. There’s only one thing she can be talking about. How long till this session ends? When can he talk to her?

Az senses there’s something off, so he instructs the priestesses for the rest of the hour. They mill when it ends--it had never bothered him before; on the contrary, he thought it must be good for them to step out into the sunlight and chatter with their friends, but now, Mother above, would they not let him get a spare minute with Nesta?

“Nesta,” he calls to her, voice gruff, before she turns to head back down into the House.

She turns--another smile on her face. Small, secretive, faintly amused. More in her eyes than her lips. She knows what she’s doing.

“Yes?” she asks, polite. As though she’s a pupil and he’s her instructor, and nothing more.

Cassian waits for her to wave off Gwyn, for Az to disappear into the day.

“What did you do yesterday?” he blurts out when they are alone.

“You mean at Ironcrest?”

She’s playing games with him. She knows he knows.

Nowhere anyone else would see, he hears her say. What is he supposed to respond to that?

Tilting her head back, her smile grows for a moment, then fades. Her voice is low, almost somber, when she says, “I have you to thank, actually, for the idea.”

“What idea?” he asks, wanting it confirmed.

The lighter look is back. “I got a tattoo.”

He bites his tongue to keep from asking what, where. Be what she needs. This is clearly important to her. “What gave you the idea?”

“Well, Thalia’s always telling me I need to reclaim myself, and that she can’t tell me exactly how to do that.” Nesta takes a step closer, playing with her skirt. “But then you told me about the constellations, and how Illyrian tattoos mimic them, and I thought...well, if this body will last forever...this would be a way to leave my own mark on it.”

Cassian nods once as she takes another step. “Seems more your idea than mine or Thalia’s.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. I still thought of you.”

His hands fist at his side. Here she is. His opponent, his perfect match, awakened from the depths of her slumber. She’s not scared of life anymore; she can live all of it.

“Where is it?” he asks, not bothering to keep his voice casual. She can handle it.

It’s only seductive, the way she raises her neck slowly, slowly, and tilts her head. Her hand, fingers moving as though they’re playing keys, tuck back the perfectly braided crown. “Here.”

Cassian blinks. Then he sees it. “Oh.”

She stays there, unmoving, waiting. He reaches his own hand out now and touches his fingertips to the spot behind her right ear. Hidden between it and her hairline is a small, single note. He traces the outline once, twice, again, again, again.

Nesta pulls her head back to look at him. “Not very Illyrian,” she says, almost chuckling. “But I like it.”

He huffs a laugh. Was he really expecting a constellation on her inner thigh? Of course not. It’s Nesta. “It’s perfect,” he tells her. “You like it?”

“I love it. I feel like myself every time I think about it.”

He grins. “Good.”

She nods once, slowly, looking at him. “It is.”

#nessian #acosf #nesta archeron #acotar #again whatever with the tags #if you're meant to see it you will #to the tiktok people who are liking everything i write without reblogging anything ever #my darlings i cannot begin to tell you how weird that is #drop a line it's free

39 notes · View notes

violetasteracademic · 5 days

Text

Does Elain Archeron want to be human again?

Theory debunk ahead.

I have personally *tried* (though I am absolutely not perfect) to take a hippocratic oath with my presence on the internet and wish to do no harm. The Libra moon to my Virgo sun is always trying to approach things peacefully. The wing 2 on my type 1 ennengram is always trying to take an open hearted approach to compassion and empathy for others while still defending my views on Elain (and Azriel).

However, the take that Elain's book is going to be centered around her acting in risky, irrational, or damaging ways because she has one goal and that is to be human again, is a theory I have ZERO respect for. So, with all due respect, which is none, please feel free to self insert disrespectfully at the end of each point as I systematically debunk this theory. This is probably the longest post I'll ever make. Strap in.

So, where TF did this come from?

On my tiktok, I addressed the fact that the rumor that there is going to be a betrayer in the Night Court ranks has zero grounds. We should collectively start to work to realize this is as accurate as Sarah having an announcement on May 1st, but alas it is a losing battle. However, I received a comment that said they also agreed that it was fake UNTIL they saw someone use text to support it. Apparently, one of the human queens insinuated there is a traitor in the Inner Circle. This is why, even though Sarah NEVER said this, people are now continuing to push this "Elain will be a traitor" agenda. Even accidentally or unintentionally out of her desire to be human. I made a whole video on this, but for context, here is the quote being used to fuel this:

Briallyn and Nesta are in a game of chicken with Briallyn trying to force Nesta to get the Trove by threatening she'll have Cassian kill her, and he'll never recover. When Nesta calls her on her bluff and says Briallyn won't kill her, Briallyn responds that there are other court members as delusional as Nesta (she is referring to her love for Cassian making her weak, delusional, and vulnerable) and she can just keep threatening members of the Night Court's loved ones until someone gets her what she wants. However, she put in *quite* a bit of time and effort on trapping Nesta first, didn't she?

My friends. Where does Briallyn say "there is a traitor among the Inner Circle's ranks?" Where does it say there is a mole? It doesn't. Yes, Briallyn has spies. As do all courts and kingdoms. But to suggest Briallyn said there is already a traitor in the Inner Circle specifically because of these quotes is unhinged and beyond willful distortion of the text to serve an invented narrative based on an unfounded rumor. I don't have time or energy to recap the whole vid, but moving on from this for now. Disrespectfully.

The next layer of the conversation is this: They think Briallyn is probably still foreshadowing Elain because Elain wants to be human so badly she'll unintentionally harm the Night Court and betray them, somehow, because of this quote and the conversation with Amren on Solstice. To which I said, there is way too much evidence in ACOSF that Elain is healthy, adjusted, and has friends and purpose in Velaris. The response to that was, well that's Nesta's perception and we can't trust her.

While the convo on tiktok was, I felt, respectful discourse and we agreed to disagree, the parasite in my brain went into full annihilation mode over this theory after thinking on it.

Because by this logic- if we aren't allowed to trust Nesta's or Cassian's perceptions that Elain is healthy and well and adjusted, or glowing with good health and finding purpose and friends, then we ALSO aren't allowed to trust Amren's assumption that Elain was curious about her choosing her Fae form because Elain wants to be human again. Elain never actually said that. Amren assumed it:

(yes I'm bringing so many receipts I exceeded the photo limit and had to start combining pages.)

At no point does Elain say anything about wanting to be human. In fact, this entire conversation is about Elain's curiosity over why Amren chose the form that she did, why she selected the gender, ect. It's honestly an interesting conversation, and when Amren makes assumptions about Elain having ulterior motives for asking the interesting question, *Elain's brow furrows in confusion.*

Elain straightens and becomes cold at Amren's assumption Elain still wants to be human. One could read this as Elain feeling embarrassed for being called out, but the pure fact is that it isn't the only explanation. In fact, Elain has spent all day cooking for everyone, spent the week shopping for Solstice presents and waxing poetic about the importance of honoring Solstice traditions (more on that later) and participating in the Fae customs, fussing over her appearance for the dinner she prepped for, ECT. It's equally as likely that she is hurt over being misunderstood by the new friends and family she has spent the day trying to making a perfect Solstice meal for and shop for everyone. Which is, if I'm not mistaken, Elain's whole damn theme. Her loved ones don't really see or understand her, while she observed and understands everything. Far more than they give her credit for.

Or maybe Elain has a fucking BEAST FORM. And is curious about what her powers can do with changing form.

The point is, it is all theory and assumption from another character. So, the dinner conversation at Solstice is now off the table using the very logic enforcing the Elain betrayal plotline by suggesting Nesta's perceptions of her are untrustworthy. So are Amren's. What's next? Disrespectfully.

There's only one other item people can use, from ACOFAS, which is Feyre's perception that Elain still wants Grayson. Which again, by this logic, is off the table now.

Feyre is the one who says Elain wants a human man. Elain didn't. So this can no longer be used as evidence.

All Elain says is Lucien is not entitled to her time and affections, and it's impossible for Lucien to care for her because he does not know her. Hmm. Someone thinking they know and care for Elain without actually knowing her. Theme, anyone? I thought I heard a theme bell chime.

Alright. So Nesta is wrong about Elain. Amren is wrong about Elain. Feyre is wrong about Elain.

So where are the grounds that Elain still wants to be human based on the text?

They don't exist.

But oh, that's not even the fun part! NOW is the fun part.

By eliminating others perceptions of Elain from the conversation as they are unreliable, what does that leave us?

Perhaps with Elain's own words and actions and nothing else?

You guys, I felt like a kid in a candy story with this one. Let's see what Elain told us about her thoughts regarding the human lands, starting with the most recent publication ACOSF:

Elain describes in great detail how she was bullied by other girls when she was younger. It's interesting, because Nesta previously said that Elain used to love balls and parties. And yet here, we find out that Elain wasn't treated well by the other girls in her own words speaking on her own experience. She goes on to *shudder in distaste* that in the human lands, it would have been perfectly suitable for Nesta to have been married off and "reserved" until she was old enough to reproduce. A thought that made Rhysand, a Fae, choke on his wine. And then of course, those same girls that tormented her delighted in her downfall.

When Elain speaks for herself instead of others speaking for her, it doesn't seem like she thinks very highly of the human lands, their customs, or their behavior, or the balls she attended does it? She certainly doesn't have any friends or anyone she misses. Everyone turned their backs on the sisters when they lost their money. And Elain witnessed this with Grayson as well, who turned his back on her the second her circumstances changed against her will again.

So uh, no. I don't think Elain is desperate to go back there.

And if course we have this ACOMAF banger:

So.... yeah. In Elain's own words, sharing her thoughts and beliefs, this is what she thinks about the rulers of the mortal lands. By the way, these same queens had her kidnapped and risked her life and took everything from her so they could test out whether mortals could survive being thrown in the Cauldron. But please, tell me more how Elain misses her human life so much that she'll screw over her friends and family to get it back. Disrespectfully.

Alternatively, in A Court and Frost and Starlight, here are the lovely thoughts Elain had about Fae culture:

Here's Elain working with her friends to bake Feyre's birthday cake, a representation of the three sisters:

Here's Elain surprising Nesta and Azriel with presents her very first Solstice, after chatting with local vendors and working with the Night Court's trusted healer:

Here is what Elain, Elain and no one else, has to say about being a member of the night court and ready to use her powers to serve it:

This is what happens when you cherry pick context. You create a new set of rules, which people like me are more than willing to follow. And if the rule is: Elain's thoughts and feelings are the only pieces of evidence allowed and not anyone else's thoughts or perceptions of her, it actually only proves the theory that Elain is going to betray the night court because she wants to be mortal again and return to the mortal lands even more wrong. Considering the theme once again, of how misunderstood and unseen Elain has been, the unbelievably ironic meta-ness of it all is overwhelming. Please, unplug yourself from the Matrix. Pay attention to Elain. It's in your best interest to at least attempt to see and understand her if you plan to read her book, or you are going to be very lost and confused.

Disrespectfully.

#pro elriel #elriel #pro archeron sisters #elain archeron defenders #elain archeron #elain x azriel

149 notes · View notes