She would find that love again—one day. And it would be deep and unrelenting and unexpected, the beginning and the end and eternity, the kind that could change history, change the world.
Lysandra Ennar, lovely and brave and bright. The shifter, the dreamer, the Lady of Carravarre. A woman who was assaulted and enslaved and broken, who fought her silk bindings with vicious ferocity, who discovered just how beautiful the world was when you were free free free.
She was the lady of stories, the maiden trapped in a looming tower. There was no handsome prince to rescue her, no grand saviour. There were only bruises on her forearms and tears in her eyes.
There was only a friend who reached out her hand.
There was only blood on her body, blood on the bed, blood on the knife clenched tight in her hand.
There was no time to weep, no time to mourn, because there were furious men invading her space and leering down at her naked body and demanding answers.
There was a broken tower and a rush of power, jolting through her body, and fuck if it didn’t feel like being born again.
Lysandra, for the first time in her life, was finally at ease. She had her power, swift and immortal light running through her veins. She made peace with her past, the brutal happenings that occured behind Arobynn’s locked door.
And she had friends, friends to live for, friends to die for. Aelin, who gifted her lavish boxes of chocolate every other day, and made her laugh until she cried. Rowan, who made her pancakes whenever her mood dulled, and trained her in the finest battle arts. Lorcan, who showed her neither pity nor kindness, but such respect that it made her heart ache.
Aedion, who loved her with a heart spun of gold, who kissed away her nightmares, who held her in his arms until the shaking ceased.
She is a sexual abuse survivor, forced against her will to cater to men, made small and insignificant by our own fandom. Lysandra is hated by so many because she dared to draw the line, because she drew herself up and said “I will not allow this.”
She is hated because she forgave someone for making a mistake.
Lysandra is the one who decides her limits, gifts her kindness.
It is not up to the fandom to decide what she deserves, and it’s fucking disgusting that some of you think you have the right.
She gets to choose if she forgives someone, and if she does, shut the fuck up.
Forgiveness is healthy, it is reasonable, it is good. People who made bad choices are allowed to learn from those mistakes; yes, they deserve kindness and respect and love.
Lysandra realized this. She forgave Aedion for his cruel words, because she understands he was grief-stricken and felt betrayed and hurt. She is allowed to decide he made a mistake.
Lysandra is brave and wonderful. She has long ago learned what is important to her, what she would live for, whom she would die for. She deserves more than hatred, more than disgust, more than your disdain.
Allow my love to be happy. She is worthy of it.
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She vaguely felt the light shifting on the lake. Vaguely felt the sighing wind, warm as it brushed against her damp cheeks. And heard, so soft it was as if she dreamed it, a woman's voice whispering, Why are you crying, Fireheart?...
"Because I am lost," she whispered onto the earth. "And I do not know the way.”
Aelin Galathynius, fierce and proud and exquisite. Adarlan’s Assassin, Aelin of the Wildfire, the Queen Who Walked Between Worlds. A girl who held death in the circle of her arms, who knew sorrow and misery by their first names, who gave herself for that glowing future ahead.
Aelin, my love, is not perfect. She says some awful things, and her actions are far from worldly and pure. Her mistakes are common as her own laughter. But I don’t know who told you characters have to be perfect, polished as gold.
She is allowed to be arrogant, dramatic, proud, daring, reckless, without being told off. These are the qualities often recognized in men, and so when a woman embodies them, she is instantly cut down for it. Aelin loves herself without fail, acknowledges her own beauty, is genuinely kind to herself.
I see so many posts encouraging girls to love themselves, and when one is portrayed in literature, everyone just turns on her. If your excuse is “well, she’s just too arrogant” please shut the fuck up. You do not get to decide what is too much. Nobody stupidly granted you that privilege.
It is perfectly fine for Aelin to see her appearance, her hair and eyes and body and smile, and say “I am happy with myself. I am beautiful.”
Don’t you fucking dare encourage feminism and then detest Aelin for admiring who is she.
Yes, she is out of the ordinary in terms of her looks, yes, she is curiously and suspiciously pretty. But if you dislike Aelin for her appearance, you’re shallow as fuck, I pray you do not like those oddly plain characters either.
The Fae are a race known for their grace and beauty, so do not tell me it’s funny how everyone is tiringly pretty. They’re supposed to be. That’s literally the whole point.
For those who complain her story is so special, would you rather read about the citizen who couldn’t find their favourite socks? I dare say no. The general idea of a story is to tell it from the most interesting point of view, in this case, Aelin’s. She is in the thick of everything, not by chance, but because she seeks the source of the trouble.
Her mistakes are plentiful, but Aelin has no trouble admitting this. She apologizes when necessary, admits to her wrongdoings, and she tries to be better. It’s not like she walks around with a blindfold. She works to understand others, never retracts her extended hand, loves her family without fail.
Aelin Galathynius is not thousands of years old, with all the wisdom of the centuries. She is a girl of seventeen, trying desperately to do her best, to save her home and her people and herself.
She woke between her parent’s cold corpses as a little girl, watched men and women die horrifically before she was eight, killed time and time again to save her own life. She found her best friend lying in pieces on her bed, bowed to her mother and father’s murderer, was enslaved and tortured and beaten and scourged.
Her trauma is not to be forgotten. Aelin is trying to save a world, and she’s still working through the terrors she witnessed so long ago. The inside of her mind was a lightless place, with no lamps to be seen.
It is okay for characters to fuck up. It’s okay for them to make mistakes and lash out. It’s okay for them to make bad choices, so long as they learn from them.
Nobody is made of gold. Nobody is unworthy of love. Nobody deserves your hatred.
Aelin is not the most powerful of her court, despite much bitter discourse.
Rowan is physically stronger, and far more capable with weaponry.
Lysandra is prized as a shape-shifter, her talent stated to be utterly invaluable.
Aedion commands his own legion, the fearsome Bane.
Elide is the cleverest, with precious insight and incredible wisdom.
Lorcan is a extraordinarily strong warrior.
Manon is the Witch-Queen, with plenty of influence and power.
Dorian has the strongest magic of them all, in the largest quantity.
Anyways, Yrene’s healing gifts are considered their greatest asset in the war.
Though Aelin is certainly important, she does her part and only her part. She does not attempt to take credit for what she has not done. She will take the suffering upon herself, but never the joy.
Aelin is bleeding and bleeding, dashed on the rocks, and all of you can only scoff at her beauty and talent.
I am capable of writing eloquent pieces, playing several musical instruments, charming several adults, making people laugh, finding lovely angles for photographs, and much more.
Am I conceited to say so? I can appreciate my better qualities and absolutely hate work on my worse attributes.
Aelin isn’t the not-like-other-girls cutout. She is like other girls. She loves dogs and candy, can wield her weapons with staggering competence, chooses her favourite gowns cautiously, is proud of herself for her accomplishments, works to lift other women up.
Aelin, at the very least, can appreciate being like other girls is a compliment. Girls (and boys!!) are fucking amazing.
You can hardly expect a girl of eighteen to be perfectly polished.
Aelin herself knows this. She listens when Darrow says she’s unfit, and she works to prove why she is capable. She wants to be better, to learn how to properly rule her country.
As well as the whole ordeal with her keeping the allies secret, she was afraid. Aelin had a group of people shout at her, tell her what an awful job she was doing, how she didn’t deserve to be queen. She didn’t want to let them down more.
Everyone hates “perfect” characters, and then they hate the characters who fuck up. Pick a side. Pick a struggle. Pick a fight, if you like, I’m happy to give one over.
Aelin, the defender, the hero made history. She is so often hated; I would like to show her a little love.
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