#tamlin fan fiction

[starryevermore]

i will go to lunar valleys in my mind ✧ tamlin & azriel

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pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader; azriel x archeron!sister

summary: to azriel, you are the most brilliant star shining in the night sky. 

word count: 7,954

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, pining, not proofread

PART ONE

Azriel stared at the cream invitation. It had landed in front of him just moments earlier, but he had already read it a few dozen times. The words were seared into his mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lord Tamlin and High Lady Y/N. High Lady. You were Spring’s High Lady. There was no way, he knew, that you could, would, ever return to Velaris when you had a court to run. He had been invited to your coronation, too, months ago. But in the year since you left for Spring, he never visited. Despite Feyre and Rhys’s insistence that you missed him, and Lucien’s chastising him for never going, and even Elain’s quiet disapproval, he knew better than to make the journey. He meant what he said to Rhys all that time ago. 

If he went to Spring, he would bring you straight back home. 

Because he had built you a home. Azriel knew how you never felt truly at home in any of Rhys’s homes—not the Town House, not the House of Wind, and not the River House. The House of Wind was the most comfortable to you, because it offered the most solitary, but it was not your home. One night, you had told him of your dream home. A quaint cottage in the woods, close enough to the city to go when you pleased but far enough to still be calm. A nice personal library, a cozy kitchen. A big fireplace that you could curl up with a nice book. Azriel committed those details to memory and spent many months making your dream home come a reality. He intended for it to be a mating gift, for when the bond finally snapped for you. 

It only collected dust.

He sat there now, at the dining table he had spent weeks picking out. His shadows flitted about, hissing at him to go to Spring. To get you before you were tied to Tamlin forever. Azriel would not. He couldn’t force you to sacrifice your happiness for his sake. You had to be happy. That was why you never returned to Velaris. You were happy in perfect Spring with your perfect mate. To bring you back here would only taint you.

“You are not going,” Rhysand said. Azriel didn’t look up from the invitation to know his High Lord had winnowed into the room. Rhys had found out about the house a few weeks after you left, concerned when Azriel hadn’t reported for any missions. 

“I haven’t gone there in a year. Why would I go now?”

“I thought the same when I was going to let Feyre live her life with Tamlin. And then she called down the bond, and I was whisking her away without any thought of the consequences.” Rhysand leaned over the table, pushing down on the invitation so that Azriel would look up at him. “She is happy with him. She looks alive when she is with him.”

“And she looked dead with me?”

It was a cheap shot, and Azriel knew it. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he wasn’t right for you. That the Mother had made a mistake. There were so many poorly-matched mates, and he was certain this was the case when the bond snapped for him. If you were content with Tamlin, then that meant you didn’t feel the same hole in your soul that Azriel did. 

His High Lord let out a sigh. “You know that’s not what I mean, brother. You remember how she looked when we forced them apart. She is finally happy again, and I won’t let anyone jeopardize it. Feyre won’t allow it.”

Azriel shoved Rhysand’s hand off the invitation. He stared at the date. It was six months away. A long time to be sending announcements for a mating ceremony, but it was surely to be a huge event for the High Lord and Lady of Spring. He imagined it would be the biggest event of the year. His teeth ground together. That should be you and him.

He dropped the invitation and rose from his seat. Shadows swirled around him as he stalked out of the house. Ignoring Rhysand’s calls behind him, Azriel took off into the air. He couldn’t stand this anymore.

“They didn’t come,” you whispered, head leaning against Tamlin’s chest. His arms wound around you. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. Your face crumpled. Letting out a shuddering breath, you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. They haven’t come here in months, but I thought…I thought they would come.”

A finger tilted your chin up so you would look up at your mate. Tamlin’s eyes were soft. “If they’re the ones who decide to burn bridges, it is not your fault.”

“I know, but…” You sighed. You looked out the large window overlooking the gardens. Despite the blanket of night covering the grounds, you could see the beautiful, blossoming rose bush Tamlin had planted earlier that month. A tradition, he’d said. “I hoped something would have changed.”

Tamlin leaned his cheek on the top of your head. His steady breathing was the only thing keeping your from sinking to the floor. “I know it hurts, but it’s their loss. You are an amazing female, my love. I could never understand why they’d want to throw that all away, but that is their mistake to make.”

You wiggled out of his arms and stepped closer to the window. Your hand pressed against the cold glass. “I don’t understand what changed. I thought things were going well. Feyre stopped glaring at you to your face—”

“What?”

“—she still glared behind your back, but it was an improvement. Rhysand didn’t make comments wishing for your death. Even Nesta held her tongue. The only one who never came around was Azriel, which hurts because I thought him my friend. But for them to all decide I’m not worth the trouble anymore? It feels like they carved out my heart and stomped on it.”

Tamlin was silent for a long moment. You could feel his eyes looking you over, searching for any sign that you were about to waste away like Feyre had. Down the bond, you feel his love and comfort. But…there was something else there. Pain, anguish. Were you hurting Tamlin somehow? Were you making him doubt your love for him by talking about this? You looked over your shoulder at him. 

“There is still cake from the celebration. I’ll go get a couple slices from the kitchen, and some wine. Does that sound alright?”

You nodded. Tamlin smiled and left the room. You looked back out the window. Part of you was tempted to push the window open, scale down the wall, and run through the gardens until the pain of the loss of your family was only a dull ache. The other part of you just wanted to be held by your mate.

You loved Tamlin. You really, truly did. But, in recent months, you felt like there was something missing. When the high of getting to know him, accepting the bond, and becoming High Lady of Spring finally died down, you were left with a hole in your chest. Small, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but enough to make you question everything. 

Had you been wrong to come here? 

Something tugged in your chest. Ordinarily, you would have thought it would be Tamlin. He always was so quick to send you comfort through the bond, but this felt different. Colder, but a comforting sort of cold. The kind of cold of a fan being waved on you during a sweltering summer day. The cold of a drink after hours of laborous work. The cold of a shadow slithering around your hand, pulling you out of harm’s way. The cold of Azriel’s hands on your burning face as you sobbed at being forcibly separated from your mate.

It tugged harder. It felt closer to snapping. But to what? You had a mate. You had Tamlin. What other sort of snapping could there be? 

Your hands tugged at your hair.  You had been so sure months ago. Why were you spiraling now? What had changed? It was more than your family, your sisters, not showing up to your mating ceremony. No, this was something deeper. Something that you had been ignoring for too long. Something that was starting to boil over. Tears began to streak down your face. A scream of frustration fell out as your hand smacked against the pane. 

The temperature in the room dropped. 

“Are you hurt?”

Everything went still. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the window. No. He couldn’t be here. Not after all this time. He hadn’t deigned to see you in over a year. You had sent invitations and letters, and they had all gone unanswered. Even when you told Feyre to pass him along the message that you missed him, you never got a response. Yes, you had left without a goodbye. But did that mean you deserved to be ignored? 

Perhaps he truly only saw you as the latest object of his affections. Perhaps you never were anything close to a friend of his. 

A hand stroked your hair. You sucked in a breath. “I swear, if he’s hurt you, I will snuff out this Cauldron-forsaken court’s light before he can even blink.”

You scoffed. Slowly you turned, your eyes narrowing at him. “That’s rich. If you care so much about my well-being, where were you the last year? Did Feyre send you here to tell me that she’s throwing in the towel? That she’s decided I’m not worth the effort? That she’s forbidden everyone else from coming to Spring, too?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“I mean, it was rich for her to not come today. It would make sense for Rhysand not to come if she didn’t. But for everyone else to not make an appearance? Even Lucien wasn’t here, and he’s Tamlin’s best friend! No one has been here in months! I can only assume the High Lady ordered gave orders to stay away.” You shook your head. “You must only be here to finally clue me in, so I’ll stop littering their desks with silly little invitations.”

He took a step closer to you. You wished you had the space to back away. Shadows wrapped around your ankles. He reached out to hold your face, but you jerked away. It was impossible to miss the hurt in his hazel eyes. And—why did your chest ache? “I’m afraid I’m the reason no one made an appearance.”

Pain struck through you. Azriel? Did he truly think so little of you because you chose your mate? You once overheard a fight he had with Rhysand—heard him say that it was only fair that he had a sister. With Feyre, Nesta, and Elain all happily taken, that had left you. Did he convince them all to hate you because you chose Tamlin over him? 

You pushed him away. “How dare you,” you hissed. 

“It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s much worse. You couldn’t have Mor, but that was fine because at least it was because she prefers females. You couldn’t have Elain. That was fine, because there was another Archeron sister waiting in the wings, praying to be picked. But then you couldn’t have me, and you had to poison everyone against me.” You gave him your harshest glare. “Why couldn’t you have pined after someone else? I hear Gwyn is single. Why didn’t you go after her? Why did you have to stoop so fucking low?”

“I didn’t!” he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls. You were sure Tamlin could hear him, but you didn’t care. Not when it felt like your chest was caving in. 

“I thought you were my friend, Azriel. I may not have always treated you the best, and I apologize for that. But I know when I’m only being picked because I’m the last option available. I deserve better than that, and you know it. Of everyone, you should know that. What did I do to deserve such cruelty?”

“Nothing!” He ran his fingers through his hair. His shadows swirled around in a flurry. Was he about to set them out to attack you? Get rid of you as a final fuck you? “They weren’t here because I am going crazy without you!”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re my fucking mate, Y/N!”

Any words you were ready to spit out dried out in your mouth. What? That couldn’t be possible. You had a mate already. You had Tamlin. And yet…There was still that tugging in your chest. Familiar, but not. 

“I have known since Nyx’s birth. I wanted to wait until it snapped for you, but it didn’t. It snapped for fucking Tamlin. As cruel as it is, I was grateful that Feyre and Rhys took you from him. At least it gave me a chance to make you see me. But then I came back from that mission and you were gone.” Azriel took a tentative step towards you again. You made no effort, this time, to push him away. “It fucking killed me to know you were gone. No one saw me for a month afterwards. I started to come around, eventually, but it was never the same without you there. I didn’t come here, to Spring, because if I did, I would have stolen you away again, because I cannot live without you. Then, six months ago, I received the invitation to your mating ceremony, and I lost it. Disappeared. Everyone has been on the hunt for me, to make sure I didn’t cause a war between our courts.”

You stared at him, unblinking. The ache in your chest only grew stronger. Could he be right? Could he truly be your mate? But what would that make Tamlin? Was it possible to be mistaken over who your mate was? Was it possible to have two mates? You wanted to cry—for you, and for Azriel. 

“I apologize for what my actions have done.”

“Why are you here now?” you asked. He said nothing, so you continued, “You stayed away this long. Why are you here now?”

Azriel let out a breath. “I had to see if you were happy. I…I imagine the mating ceremony has already been consummated, which would complicate things, but…If there was any chance, any at all, that I could be your knight in shining armor, I had to take it. If you were, I would leave you be. Let you live out your life as Spring’s High Lady and never again interfere. So, I have to ask, are you happy?”

That tug in your chest finally snapped. All at once, everything Azriel felt came crashing through. The full extent of his pain, the anguish raging through his body. The glimmer of hope as he stared down at you, waiting for your answer. Your hand reached out without you thinking, touching his chest. You could almost see the golden thread binding you to him. 

“Yes,” you said.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the gleam of his siphon bouncing off at you. “But?”

“I feel a hole in my soul.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“One, that I’m beginning to realize, is shaped like an Illyrian.”

The smile grew. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hands. Azriel’s thumbs swiped over your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Leaning against his palm, a smile began to cross your face. Azriel leaned in, nose brushing against yours, until his lips connected with yours. 

A gasp escaped you at the contact. It was…electric. Unlike anything you experienced with Tamlin, save for the intensity of it all. If Tamlin was the innocent joy, Azriel was the passionate fervor. You had experienced the frenzy with Tamlin, but you were sure it would pale in comparison to Azriel. You could feel the full weight of his emotions through the bond—the lust, the adoration, the desire for more. 

A chord struck in you. If you could feel all of this with Azriel, then Tamlin could—

Tamlin’s snarl ripped through the room. 

He fought to keep a lid on his barely-constrained anger. Whenever Tamlin felt such explosive anger, he had a tendency to hurt those he cared about. You deserved better than that. And, even if your relationship with Feyre had become strained, he was sure she would make good on her threat anyways. But, Mother, how else was he supposed to react when that Cauldron damned Shadowsinger was kissing his mate?

Tamlin had suspected for a long time that Azriel harbored feelings for you. When you came to the ball, Azriel clung to you like a leech. Always hovering, always watching you. And when Azriel would leave you, those damned shadows of his would always linger. Even when Tamlin finally got a moment alone with you, the Shadowsinger burst in the room as if thought Tamlin was about to hurt you—pulled you out of his arms, tried to keep you from him. He knew there was a reason Azriel hadn’t visited once—hadn’t even sent word to you—in the last year. He just never thought the Illyrian would have the audacity to whisk you away hours after your mating ceremony. 

It must be a Night Court tradition. 

You pushed Azriel away—too gentle for Tamlin’s liking—and stepped toward him. Your eyes were wide, apologetic. You reached out for him, urged him to wrap his arms around you. He did, but not once did he look away from Azriel. He didn’t trust that the Illyrian brute wouldn’t stab him in the back at the first opportunity. Especially not with Truth-Teller strapped to his waist. 

“I can explain, Tam,” you said, cheek pressed against his chest.

Tamlin smoothed a hand over your hair. He tugged on the bond, let you know that he was not upset with you. He could never be upset with you. “You are not to blame, my love.”

“Of course I am. I wanted Az to kiss me.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest before he could stop it. Okay, perhaps he could be upset with you a little. Though, he supposed he couldn’t fault you entirely for harboring feelings for the Shadowsinger. You had told Tamlin once that, although you were suspicious about Azriel’s motivations at times, he had been something of a friend. The only one, save for your sisters, that you could call a friend. When you’re that lonely, it’s easy to fall for the one person who’s kind to you. But that didn’t mean Tamlin had to like it. 

“He’s my mate, too, Tam.”

He pulled away. He searched your eyes for anything sign of deceit, for any sign of manipulation. Tamlin found none. He looked back at Azriel, who still stood far away, watching you carefully. It looked like he was ready to yank you away from Tamlin at the first sign of distress. Night Court folk always held grudges. 

This was…unexpected. If Tamlin didn’t trust you, he might have thought you were trying to deceive him. Triads had existed a long time ago, when Prythian was in its infancy. There was a time where there were more males than females. People believed that the Mother would allow the female multiple mates in an effort to stop the fighting over the few, precious females that existed. Of course, all of this was speculative—a work of fiction. No one had seen a triad in millennia. No one was sure they’d ever existed at all. 

Yet, when Tamlin pressed his nose to your hair, he didn’t just smell your scent mixed with his. There was something different, less familiar. It was faint. Barely noticeable unless he searched for it. A mating bond, in its infancy. As he turned his gaze to Azriel, he knew who it belonged to. 

“What do you want?” Tamlin near-growled at Azriel, still cradling you against his chest. 

“For her to be happy,” Azriel said. “I was going to let her go, never reveal the bond. I was going to let her live a life with you, but I had to make sure she was happy before I gave her up forever.”

Tamlin wanted to say that you were happy. That you had all you needed here. And, yes, you were happy. You loved the Spring Court. If Tamlin thought you beautiful at the ball, it paled in comparison to the way you seemed to come alive in Spring. But he couldn’t deny that, in recent months, as the Inner Circle stopped coming, as it became clear that Azriel would never visit, that something inside of you was dying.

And he had heard the tail end of your conversation with Azriel before he kissed you. You wanted Azriel as a mate. Tamlin knew better than to deny you of that. He never again wanted to see you as lifeless as you had been when he brought you home from the Night Court. 

“She’s High Lady,” he said, “she cannot be whisked away from here.”

“I understand,” Azriel said. “Perhaps, though, she could spend a few months with me, in the Night Court? Most of her year will be spent here, ruling by your side. I only ask for some time.”

You turned your head to look at Azriel. Your brows pinched together. “You would do that?”

“I would rather only have a part of you than none at all.”

Tamlin looked down at you. He hated the idea of you being taken away to the Night Court. It reminded him too much of how Rhysand had grabbed you and winnowed you away—of how Night’s High Lord had done the same to Feyre years prior. The nasty, jealous part of him roared at the thought of you going. But when he looked at your hope-filled eyes, he knew he wouldn’t deny you. 

To Azriel, he said, “Give us the month to get our affairs in order.”

Azriel nodded. It was done. 

“Be careful with her,” Tamlin hissed.

Azriel rolled his eyes as he picked you up. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other hooked under your legs. Your arms looped around his neck. Though winnowing you would be easier, quicker, Azriel dreamed of flying you to the home he built for you. 

“She is not a doll so easily broken.”

You scratched at the back of his neck. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Though you intended the action to be a means of chastising him, he only thought about how nice it would feel to have those pretty polished nails of yours rake down his back. “Play nice. Both of you,” you said. 

Tamlin stepped over to you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If you change your mind,” he said, “let me know. I’ll bring you home.”

Azriel stepped away before you could kiss Tamlin on the mouth. It was petty of him, to be sure. But he didn’t like the implication that you would not feel at home with him. What did Tamlin know? He wasn’t there for you when you came out of the Cauldron. When you were only a shell, sat at a piano all hours of the day, the melody of your pain echoing through Velaris. Tamlin was not there to hold you as you cried, begging for the pain to end. Tamlin never begged Rhysand to go into your mind, to give you pleasant dreams, so that even if you only experienced peace in your sleep, at least you got to feel it. 

Tamlin might have taken you from the Night Court. He may have made you his High Lady. And he may love you, but he didn’t know you hurt like Azriel did. He did not make the same promise Azriel did to never let you be hurt again. He did not know that, as Azriel was returning from that mission, he was planning to ask if you wished for him to take you to Spring. He was going to give you the choice that he and the rest of the Inner Circle so terribly deprived you of. Azriel had only been angry when you were gone because he never got to tell you goodbye, never got the chance to see you one last time before sending you off for your fairytale ending. But then, after the Inner Circle’s first visit, Feyre told him you looked like an entirely different person. 

Tamlin might love you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his happiness to let you be with another male. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Azriel asked you.

The week before, Tamlin had sent your clothes, some books, and sheet music ahead. Azriel took special care to set up your room. It was the master bedroom, of course. Azriel relegated himself to a smaller guest room. Even if you were going with him to see if you truly wanted the bond with him, he was not going to force you to share a room with him. 

“I’m sure,” you said. You turned to Tamlin and nodded your head at him, urging him closer. Reluctantly, Azriel did not step away this time. He could deny Tamlin all he wanted, but he wouldn’t do that to you. The High Lord leaned down and kissed you softly. “I’m write you, Tam.”

Tamlin smiled. “I eagerly await your letters.”

After bidding him another farewell kiss, you let Azriel take to the skies. Although Azriel was not fond of his Illyrian heritage—the culture and its males, save for his brothers, disgusted him—he would never tire of flying. He didn’t think it could ever get any better, but that was before he had you in arms, clinging tightly to him while he flew over all of Prythian. 

A laugh, a beautifully loud laugh, escaped you as he pushed himself faster and faster. He shot you a wicked grin and a wink before shooting straight up, turning over backwards, before righting himself on course again. The laugh turned to a scream. Your nails dug into the back of his neck. 

“What?” he teased. “Don’t like going upside down?”

“You’re rotten,” you said, but you smiled up at him anyways. He liked your smile. You smiled with your whole face. Pretty dimples, crinkled corners of your eyes. Even your eyes themselves seemed to twinkle. 

“Yeah? I think you’ll find I’m the rottenest of the bunch.”

“Not so rotten if you’re my mate, though.”

Azriel prayed you couldn’t see how red his face was turning. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Only further settled in his arms, watching the clouds as you passed them by. 

Though Azriel preferred flying fast, loved the thrill of it all, he found himself wishing he had savored this moment a little longer as he landed outside of the home he built for you. He sat you gently on the ground, a hand on the small of your back as you steadied yourself. 

“I thought we would go to the River House or the House of Wind,” you said. 

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or not. You only stared up at the cobblestoned cottage, the wisteria growing along the walls. You eyed the window boxes filled with your favorite flowers. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to offer to take you elsewhere, when you turned your gaze to him. 

“What is this place? How have I never known about it?”

“It was supposed to be a mating gift,” Azriel said. He couldn’t look at you, afraid for how you might react, so he stared up at the cottage. “You told me, once, about your dream home. I can only hope that this compares.”

“When did you build it?”

“I started it the day after I found out we were mates,” Azriel said. And because he knew you were going to ask when that was, he continued, “The day Nyx was born—when you were crying because you were so scared about losing half your family and I just held you. That’s when I knew.”

You said nothing for a long moment. Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, praying to the Mother he hadn’t scared you away. That you wouldn’t ask to be taken back to Spring, this entire thing be damned. You didn’t do that, though. 

No, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth instead. “Thank you, Az.”

Shadows flitted around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients you wanted and bringing them to you. Azriel often chided you for turning his shadows, the very things he used to spy and torture and kill, into little pets, but he loved it all the same. There was something he liked about you exposing the darkest parts of him to the light. Besides, it was his fault for leaving the shadows behind with you while he went to the market. 

You placed the tray in the oven, giggling as the shadows pulled you away to shut the door on their own, another group of shadows fiddling with the knobs so that it was at the right temperature. As the brownies baked, you took to cleaning up the mess you made. Humming a tune, you began to collect the dishes, swaying your hips as you took them over to the sink.

In the month since you had returned to the Night Court, you quite enjoyed spending time with Azriel. His plan to sleep in the guest room did not last long, for you found yourself so enamored with him that you practically dragged him into your bed. That was the first time his shadows allied themselves with you. A part of you, now, dreaded the idea of having to leave him behind when you returned to Spring. Tamlin and Azriel did not get on well, but you were certain they could at least learn to tolerate each other if they spent time with each other. 

You dried off your hands, gazing out the window over the sink. Somewhere beyond there were the rest of your family. Though Azriel had reacquainted himself with the Inner Circle, apologized for causing as much trouble as he had, he had not revealed that you were in the Night Court. He glamoured his scent so that they could not pick up on how your own scent mixed in. You wondered how Tamlin might have responded to their inquiries to visit you in Spring, but Azriel didn’t say much besides Feyre worried she had offended you. 

Good, you mused. She should be worried. She had made you grieve your relationship with her. She made you sick as you contemplated where you went wrong. She made you feel like you lost your entire family by choosing your mate. If she sat in worry, she deserved it. 

A shadow tugged on your wrist, alerting you to the fact that the brownies were finished. The shadows didn’t allow you to take the tray out yourself, but did let you begin to cut them and place one on a plate for Azriel. You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile. 

Tomorrow, you were to return to Spring. But tonight, you would accept the bond with Azriel. 

You hadn’t said a word to the shadows about your plan, yet they buzzed around the cottage as they readied for the romantic evening to come. Petals littering the floor, candles lit up around the room, a romantic song playing over the symphonium. You almost thought the shadows wished to seduce your mate more than you did. 

One tugged on your wrist as the door opened. You did hold back your smile this time as Azriel walked into kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter. 

“Welcome home,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Azriel smiled against your lips. “What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” He pulled away for a moment, sniffing at the air. “Have you been baking?”

“Brownies,” you confirmed. You twisted out of the arms and took the plate that the shadows hovered over to you. “For you.”

He stared down at the plate, then looked up at you. “I couldn’t—” he said. 

You picked up the brownie and brought it up to his lips. “I insist. I have been blessed by the Mother with two wonderful mates, and I intend to have you both fully.”

Thunder rumbled in the sky as Azriel sank his teeth into the treat, never taking his eyes off of you. You swiped your thumb at the corner of his mouth, collecting the crumbs, and licked them off. A growl ripped through his chest as Azriel tugged you against him. 

“I suppose that’s why the cottage looks like something straight of Nesta’s romance novels?”

“You can thank your shadows for that. They did that all on their own.”

“You truly have reduced them to busybodies like all the rest,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold an ounce of malice. Azriel kissed you softly. “I suppose I should thank them, though, because I fully intend to ravish you tonight.”

“Oh, I hope that’s a promise you intend to keep.”

Thunder rumbled again. The scene outside turned darker as storm clouds began to roll in. You were prepared to ignore it all when a flash of lightning made you jump out of your skin. The front door slammed open, the wood hitting the wall so hard you were almost certain it splintered. Azriel’s hold on you tightened. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. You peered over to the foyer, blood running cold as you took in the appearance of Night’s High Lord, your sister just a half step behind him. 

“I didn’t think you were so foolish to steal away Spring’s High Lady, brother,” Rhysand said. 

“I was not stolen,” you snapped. “I came here willingly. Tamlin knows exactly where I am, and that I shall be returning to Spring by morning.”

Your sister said your name softly, stepping around her mate and toward you. “You’re already leaving?” she asked. 

“I have been here a month. That is plenty long to be away from Spring and my other mate.”

Feyre’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then to the tray of brownies abandoned on the counter. “You know.”

“No thanks to you,” you said. “How long were you going to let me cry over Azriel not coming to visit before you told me it wasn’t because he hated me?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you. I hated learning about my own mating bond from the Suriel. I didn’t—I couldn’t let you live through that same pain.”

“No, you just let me think my only friend hated me. You let me think you all hated me, because you were too busy trying to find him before my mating ceremony to respond to any of my letters.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at you. “We couldn’t have told you anything. We hardly understand how a triad works. How could we have explained it to you without sounding like we descended into lunacy?”

“You could have said anything!” you protested. “Feyre, you could have told me anything short of the truth. There was a threat to the Night Court, or perhaps that there were some diplomacy issues you needed to tend to. But, no, you rather that I cried to Tamlin every night, prayed that you would send some sort of sign that our relationship was not beyond repair.”

Feyre took a step toward you. Rhysand reached for her wrist, to stop her from nearing you, but she shook him off. “And I will regret that for the rest of my days. You know I have never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you have. You are my sister, Feyre, but you treated me like I was no one to you. Tell me, were my letters to all the others ignored under your orders, too?”

Her glance away from you told you everything you needed to know.

“I spent my mating ceremony, what should have been the happiest day of my life, grieving the loss of my family. I will never get that day back again.” You grabbed for Azriel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight. “Don’t expect an invitation to the next.”

Feyre’s eyes snapped to yours. Silver lined them. “Please—”

“I would like to return to Spring, now, please,” you said to Azriel. “It seems I have outgrown Night.”

Without a word, Azriel winnowed you away. 

Tamlin stared at your back as you slept. You had been quiet ever since you returned from the Night Court. Tamlin understood—Azriel had explained how Feyre and Rhysand came to the cottage as you were accepting the mating bond with Azriel. He recalled the fury in your eyes as you stated that Azriel would remain in the Spring Court until the frenzy subsided. He didn’t see you much over the following weeks, so he couldn’t speak much to your state then. But when Azriel, rather regretfully, announced he would be returning to Night to deal with the fallout, you began to withdraw. Tamlin was left with the aftermath. And like Feyre before you, he wasn’t quite sure how to make things better. 

Unlike Feyre, he was going to do whatever he could to help you. He would not let you waste away, fade away into nothing. 

Tamlin kissed your bare shoulder then slipped out of the bed. If you noticed, you did not move. He continued on to his study, ignoring the curious looks of the servants still lingering in the halls, and settled at his desk. He procured a sheet of paper and a pen, and began to write. 

Azriel, he began, I apologize for my abruptness, but I must ask that you return to Spring expeditiously. While I understand that the Night Court is your home, Y/N has not been faring well without both of her mates. You do not need to forsake your home, but any time that you could spend here would be appreciated. Yours truly, Tamlin. 

He sent the letter off. Tamlin remained at his desk, waiting for a reply. But one did not have to wait for long as shadows began to soon flood the room. In the past, the sight of the shadows would have made Tamlin’s skin crawl. It was no secret the depths the Spymaster would go to, to extract information from his targets, and those very shadows were just another in his arsenal. But their arrival was signal enough that Azriel had arrived, and that was enough for the weight on Tamlin’s shoulders to lift ever so slightly. 

“Where is she?”

Tamlin rose to his feet. “Sleeping. She doesn’t know I asked for you to come.”

Azriel nodded. A few of the shadows abandoned the study in search of you. The shadows, generally, still disturbed Tamlin. In the month you and Tamlin got your affairs in order, those damned little things scarcely left your side. He was certain they even hissed at him for daring to be near you. Slowly, though, they began to grow on him as they came to the collective understanding that both parties were looking out for your best interests. 

“How have things fared in the Night Court?” Tamlin asked. 

“Feyre is distraught,” Azriel said. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if trying to stop them from rolling right out of his head. “Rhys has been insisting I bring Y/N back so they can talk things through. He does not take kindly to my own insistence that, if Feyre wished for things to get better, she should be the one to make the first move.”

Tamlin snorted. “And here I thought you were just a loyal dog.”

Azriel flashed a smirk. “Oh, I am. Just not to him.”

Good, Tamlin thought. If there was anyone who deserved his loyalty, it would be you. Kind, sweet you. Tamlin once thought your family was loyal—they certainly seemed to think they were looking out for your best interests when they took you from the Spring Court. And they had been so diligent about visiting you before. Every month at the start of the month, he would receive a letter asking permission to visit. The Inner Circle always arrived before he could accept. That was, until the invitation to the mating ceremony was sent out. Despite both you and Tamlin sending inquiries and invitations, not a single one ever responded. When they failed to show up at the mating ceremony, Tamlin decided then that he would never forgive them. 

“How long do you intend to stay?” Tamlin said. Azriel brought nothing with him, save for the clothes on his back and the weapons strapped to his waist. 

“As long as you’ll allow it. I tendered my resignation this morning,” Azriel said. “I’ll begin the search for a home here in the morning.”

“Don’t bother,” Tamlin said. Azriel looked stricken. His brows pinched together, mouth settling into a frown. Realizing his error, Tamlin corrected, “You can have a home here if you like. Your own room, or you can share ours. We might have to get a bigger bed, given your wingspan, but it would be no trouble.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. “You would do that?”

“You are her mate as much as I am. You may be willing to settle for only a piece of her life, but I would be remiss if I stopped you from having all of her.” Tamlin waved his hand, urging Azriel to follow him. “I have some more comfortable clothes you can change into. We should both rest.”

“Tamlin—” Azriel said. Tamlin paused. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. Will you need to return to the Night Court for your things, or will you be purchasing replacements?”

As they walked down the hall, the servants even more confused than before, Azriel said, “My shadows will retrieve the necessities. There won’t be much. I intend to have a fresh start here.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing Spring is all about rebirth then.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Tamlin watched as Azriel smiled when they reached the bedroom. He slipped inside, so silent that Tamlin could’ve been convinced that he was alone if he didn’t see the Shadowsinger with his own two eyes. Tamlin lingered in the doorframe as Azriel approached your side of the bed and knelt down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, murmured a quiet I love you. 

Your eyes fluttered open. You blinked slowly as you took in Azriel’s appearance. “You’re supposed to be in Night,” you whispered. 

“I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

You turned your head slightly, brows pinching together when you didn’t see Tamlin laying beside you. “Does Tam know?”

“Who do you think invited me?”

A sleepy smile twitched on your lips. “When do you leave again?”

“Whenever you decide to push me away.” Azriel kissed you. “And not a second sooner.”

Feyre stared at the cream invitation. It had landed on Rhysand’s desk just moments earlier, but she had already read it a dozen times. The words were seared into her mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lady Y/N and Azriel. But the part she found herself reading over and over again, trying to make sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination were— P.S. I would greatly appreciate your attendance. You are my sister, and I miss you being a part of my life.

If she went to Spring, she would have her sister again she so terribly pushed away. 

Because she had missed you. It had broken her heart to know you had come to Night to be with Azriel yet never came to see them. She couldn’t blame you, of course. You had been right. Feyre should have said something to you. It wasn’t fair for her to keep you completely in the dark. She hated when others had done it to her in the past. Why did she ever think she could do the same to you? Yet, even in the months afterward, she wasn’t sure what to say to you. 

She still didn’t. 

Feyre sat in the River House, at Rhysand’s desk, glancing between the invitation and the RSVP she was going to send in response. Rhysand stood behind her. When the invitation arrived, he said that the decision was fully hers. That he would support whatever choice to make. To stay in Night and continue to allow the relationship to strain, or to go and begin the mending process. But was there anything left to mend? You were happy in Spring with both of your mates. To go there now would be to ruin the life you’ve built for yourself. 

“Do you want to go?” Rhys asked after several moments of Feyre holding the pen in an ironclad grip.

“I haven’t seen her in months. I haven’t been to Spring in over a year. I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Because you miss her, and she misses you. Don’t torture yourself with thoughts of maybes and what ifs. You know Y/N wouldn’t have sent the invitation if she didn’t want you there,” Rhysand said. He pointed to the postscript, tapping his finger on it. “It’s a peace offering.”

“I hurt her.”

For as long as Feyre could remember, she had been trying to protect her family. For a long time, it was all she knew. Things changed, of course, when she came to Prythian and her sisters all became High Fae. But the base desire, to ensure their safety and security, still resided deep inside her. It was why she had been so scared when you said Tamlin was your mate. It was why she panicked when Rhysand said Azriel had disappeared after being invited to your mating ceremony with Tamlin. Yet, in both instances, she had been the one to cause your pain. What if that was all she could do now? Maybe she was better off, maybe you were better off, if she stayed away.

Rhys let out a sigh. “You did, but she’s giving you a chance. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

“It is.”

“Then, I think you already know the answer.”

Feyre pressed the pen to the paper. She slowly wrote her response, worried that if she moved too fast, she would write the wrong thing. But, Cauldron, it didn’t feel write to just write a letter to you. If you were truly inviting her back into your life, if you truly were trying to mend the relationship, you deserved more. 

She dropped the pen and rose from her seat. Rhysand followed her and she stalked out of the office. Ignoring her mate’s questions behind her, she went to the living room where the rest of the Inner Circle waited for Feyre and Rhys. Everyone stared at her when she arrived. She couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore. 

“Well?” Nesta asked, breaking the silence. “Are we breaking this ridiculous stalemate together, or will I be going to Spring alone?”

“Together,” Feyre said. “We’ll go together, now. I’m sure they won’t mind a surprise visit.”

Nesta flashed a rare smile. “Good, because Elain and I would have dragged you there kicking and screaming.”

[justatouristhere]

Hi everyone! First time following and sharing on a character week. Looking forward to all the art and stories!

Day 2 Warrior

My short fan fiction for @tamlinweek

~An Unexpected Encounter~

Tamlin crosses paths with Rhys for the first time while on a mission

Tamlin peered through the thicket trying to make out where for Cauldron’s sake he was. His sense of direction was usually impeccable but since he got to the Middle, something about the magic here felt off - made his senses go haywire. He kept low while stalking through the forest, shifting into his beast form, his senses sharpening as he did so. The first stars were already showing in the sky when he finally got a glimpse of what he was looking for and halted. He crouched low and surveyed his surroundings keenly. Soon all sorts of creatures would be prowling around in the dark. It was one particularly vicious one that he was after. Once again, he had been sent to do his father’s dirty work.

”I have a special mission for you and I expect you to keep this quiet” his father had said when he had summoned him from the Spring Court borders where he was patrolling with his war band. “It has come to my attention, that there has been a breach at the Prison” he continued. One of his spies had informed him that something had managed to break out of the highly guarded prison island. And it was making its way across Prythian. “Have you ever heard of the Weaver’s demon?” his father asked. “I have heard the stories” Tamlin said frowning. It was a dreadful being, its venom capable of overpowering even the most formidable of Fae, and it only obeyed one master. One that harboured resentment for the Fae that trapped her in her abode in the Middle. What would his father want with such a fearsome creature? “Hybern’s General is due to visit soon” his father added as if guessing his thoughts. Amarantha. The very thought of that female made Tamlin’s skin crawl. He never understood why his father was so keen to make her an ally. “She does so delight in taming a wild creature” his father’s tone was laced with wicked amusement. Tamlin did not miss the insinuation, but ignored it. His father’s notion was not misplaced however. Amarantha was an avid collector of such monsters and had an array of creatures she used to torture her enemies with. His father took out a map and proceeded to show him the trail of the last sightings of the demon. “It travels by night, hides by day”. “I’ll get on it” Tamlin had said, turning to go. “Stay away from those fangs, they say the venom works faster than faebane” his father had warned as he left the room.

Tamlin pushed the memory to the back of his mind; it wasn’t wise to let himself get distracted; he needed his wits about him. According to his father’s spies the demon had left a distinct trail and it was clearly making its way back to its master. Tamlin gazed at where the Weaver’s cottage stood in a small clearing of the wood. It looked almost ordinary. Gnarled trees grew so close at its back, they nearly formed a solid wall. Tamlin cast his look around for a good vantage point that afforded concealment and opted for a particularly thick assembly of shrubs to the south of the trail leading up to the cottage. He gave a low sigh. This was going to be a long night. ***

“What?” “Shhhh…”. Be quiet Rhys shot a pointed look at Azriel who gave him a pained look in return. It will never not freak me out to communicate with you like this. Rhys grinned. A low growl like earth rumbling sounded in the woods and echoed off the side of the mountain. They both stood still for a moment, waiting. Nothing happened. “This should be fun, just like old times” Rhys said jokingly trying to lighten the mood. Azriel gave a snort in reply. They had been camped out in this forest for a couple of days now, lying in waiting, and had become increasingly restless. His father had sent them to retrieve the escaped creature and it was of the essence that they recaptured the Weaver’s demon before it got to its master. The Weaver may be contained to her cottage, but united with her demon she would have a weapon that could cause all sorts of strife to the Courts of Prythian. But this wearisome task wasn’t really what made them feel so on edge.

“Do you think they managed to restrain her by now?” Azriel whispered, sounding more fearful than Rhys had ever heard him before. “I don’t know…” Rhys was trying not to think about it. The truth was that there had been an even greater breach at the Prison. One that the Night Court has gone to great lengths to conceal. A more cunning and dangerous captive had managed to escape. And had sprung the neighbouring cell containing the demon on their way out. Rhys had nearly fainted when he heard that Amren had gotten loose.

I need Azriel his father’s voice growled in his mind, full of irritation. We have not yet concluded our mission in the Middle Rhys answered. Now the order boomed in response. “Az, you are needed back at the Night Court” Rhys said, giving Azriel an apologetic look. Azriel’s face paled but he didn’t hesitate as he stood immediately and shot to the sky. Rhys looked on as Azriel’s form grew smaller and then vanished from sight. It was their jurisdiction after all. The Prison. A monumental headache passed on through generations. Rhys sighed and settled his gaze back to the small clearing where the Weaver’s cottage lay. He and Azriel had chosen to find shelter in the trees, just off that clearing. Shrouded in shadows he was nearly invisible as the night grew thicker and the stars brighter. The forest seemed to come alive in the night, growls and snarls filling the air. Rhys occasionally got a glimpse of a pair of eyes between the trees. It was going to be a long night.

Tamlin heard it before he saw the creature. Not the demon itself but the silence that suddenly fell across the forest. The night was filled with sounds one moment and went completely still the next. As if everything living, including the trees and the shrubs, held their breath all at once. He strained his eyes looking for movement between the trees. Only moments later he saw it crawling on all fours, making its way towards the cottage, its skin smooth grey, nearly translucent, covering the eye sockets completely. He felt disgust twisting his stomach but didn’t stop to give it a thought. He leaped out of the shrubs and directly into the demon’s path.

Rhys spotted the demon creeping along the line of trees, but before he could make a move, a majestic beast crowned with antlers burst out of nowhere and stopped the demon in its tracks. It was massive, almost the size of a bear, with wolf-like features that were twisted in a menacing snarl. It had golden fur and gleaming emerald eyes that looked completely at odds with the dark grey forest that seemed devoid of all colour. For a moment Rhys stood frozen, watching enthralled as beast and demon leapt towards each other, colliding in midair and tumbling out of sight into the nearby thicket. Rhys finally shook himself from his stupor and sprang from the tree going after them, his shadows veiling him in darkness as he went.

Tamlin tumbled onto the forest floor; his grip still locked around the demon’s throat. The demon thrashed its legs and arms frantically, sharp talons drawing blood from Tamlin’s golden fur. Struggling to immobilise the creature, Tamlin reached for his earthly Spring Court power, but the response did not come from the ground, as if it were devoid of any spark of life. He strained with concentration and finally vines sprouted from the ground. But as soon as they appeared they grew ashen and crumbled to dust. Tamlin felt panic rise in his chest, just as a citrusy scent filled his nostrils that hadn’t been there a moment before. Even the demon seemed to pause its struggling for a heartbeat. Tamlin whipped his head around, two star flecked purple eyes meeting his. He started and snarled and his grip loosened for the smallest of seconds. That was all the demon needed, it seized its chance and slipped through Tamlin’s grasp, leaping for his neck with its long poisonous fangs. Tamlin growled and fought the hissing demon when black tendrils took hold around its neck and pulled it back. A blade flashed and a spray of blood landed across Tamlin’s face. He rolled away, shifting into his Fae form just as the demon, its head impaled by a long knife, dropped dead to the ground.

Tamlin braced his hands on his knees and stood panting, watching the raven-haired male now crouching over the dead demon. Night Court he thought. The male grabbed the hilt of the blade that was still stuck in the creature’s head and pulled. Clear liquid trickled down the shining metal and onto the ground. Tamlin had never seen a knife like that, its blade curved slightly and adorned with an intricate carving. The male turned his purple gaze on him in an assessing sweep. “What were you trying to do?” he said, cocking his head onto one side. “I was… trying to capture it” Tamlin answered with uncertainty. “Capture it?” the male’s eyes widened in surprise “Whatever for?”. Tamlin didn’t know what to answer, he didn’t know this male and didn’t want to give away any intel to another Court. “Just following orders” he said finally. The male frowned at that response, no doubt trying to figure out who in their right mind would want that demon alive and in their vicinity. “Looks like that didn’t work out for you” the male said thoughtfully. “No, it did not” Tamlin said grimly. The male gave him a weak smile. “I’m Rhys by the way” he said. Tamlin nodded and stood straighter. “Tamlin” he said in response.

Rhys regarded the panting male standing in front of him, his long hair the same golden hue as the fur of his beast form. Shape-shifter. Spring Court. He felt intrigued by him. There was such frankness in those green eyes. “We should probably cover our tracks” Rhys said, pointing the Illyrian blade at the dead creature before sheathing it at the bandolier on his chest. “I can take care of that” Tamlin replied, crouching next to the demon and touching his hand to the ground. Rhys took a step back as a large crack appeared in the ground, swallowing the demon in its dark abyss, then closed neatly back up. “Impressive” he said, smiling. “Thank you” Tamlin answered, smiling back nervously. A hiss sounded from a nearby brush and they both whirled around, bracing themselves. Whatever it was it must have decided they weren't worth the risk, because it took off, the bushes rustling in its wake.

Tendrils of shadow started whirling around them and Tamlin backed away apprehensively. “They won’t bite” Rhys said in a teasing tone. “I’m just trying to make us less conspicuous' '.  “Are they, like, solid?” Tamlin asked, contemplating the tendrils that snaked around him. “Oh, I can make them as solid or transparent as I like” Rhys said and a tendril rose gently at the level of Tamlin’s arm, who tentatively raised his hand out to reach for it. It felt like a silky breath at first and then took on a more solid feel, like a ribbon smoothly flowing over his hand, over some of the scratches the demon had left with its long talons. Tamlin flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… does that hurt? You should get cleaned up” Rhys said. “Yes” Tamlin agreed, inspecting the blood and mud smears on his arms and chest, the gashes that were not quite healed.  He had been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed. “I should probably-“ he started, “There is a creek nearby, I can show you if you want” Rhys interrupted. Tamlin looked at him surprised. “Just over there” Rhys said, pointing to the East. “I… uhm… sure, ok” Tamlin said in an uncertain tone and they started walking in the direction Rhys had indicated. “Don’t you need to get back and report or something?” he asked. “I’m not in a hurry” Rhys shrugged. Tamlin eyed Rhys thoughtfully. He felt wary of this male, but going back to his father seemed even less appealing at the moment. He gave a long sigh “I suppose neither am I”.  With a sidelong look, Rhys patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. The first light of the day was breaking in the distance as they walked on, Rhys’ shadows shielding them both from lurking predators.

[keepittoyourshelf]

Well folks, as promised, here’s a link to the Google drive housing the full Tamlin x Rhysand chat.

A note: this was made with character.ai’s new group chat feature, using characters I did not write. Manipulations and prompts are all my own however. Group chat is only available on the mobile app and does not allow exports, hence the 60+ screen shots. They should be read in descending order.

Lastly, if you are on character.ai and want to join the group chat, let me know. I can add up to four more people. You could, of course, just create your own and craft other, even more chaotic and depraved, situations than I did. It’s rather like playing god, and it’s a worthy way to pass the time until our AI overlords revolt and put us all in The Matrix. It is known.

[tandonshows]

what can ACOTAR teach us about good love?

This week, Jac, writer and Co-Host of Book Talk for Book Tok, joins to discuss Sarah J Maas' epic hit book series, A Court of Thorns and Roses (FKA ACOTAR). 

We discuss how Jac started the series at the same time as therapy, what Feyra's relationships taught Jac about her own romantic leanings, and how romance books (and fan fiction) give women a safe space to explore and discuss their sexuality. Tangents include what women want (and how romance novels can be a guide), what the books of our youth, including Twilight and Gossip Girl, taught us about sex, and regrettably, Two Girls One Cup. 

I hope you enjoy the listen! You can listen to the episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts now.

[arson-09]

one of the many issues i find with sjms writing (and subsequently her fans) is that a character has to be perfect to be loved (this is acotar specific) hear me out ((apologies in advance for the somewhat rambling and nonsensical bits. its late lmao)

Just about everything Feyre and Rhysand do is justified. Rhysands entire list of evil actions from acotar is retconned. Him murdering those winter court children was suddenly by an unnamed daemati whos never brought up again, his sexual assault of feyre was “for her protection”, and in general the way he treated her UtM is okayed (sa is never justifiable, even in fictional media) and him keeping very important information about Feyres body from her is fine because he was doing it to spare her feelings (also never ok to keep information of ones body from the individual)

Feyre is allowed to destroy the spring court. No matter how you feel about Tamlins character the actions she took were extreme, petty, and useless. She collectively punished the citizens of the spring court because of her relationship with Tamlin and she believed him to be allying with Hybern. Which was hinted to her to be false and she could have read his mind at any point. Feyre also is a unreliable narrator but her word is taken as truth. When she has magical outbursts its nothing, she can treat her supposed friends like shit but shes still the better friend.

Together they constantly spout how perfect the other is. Especially Feyre about Rhysand, maybe its the mating bond but the bond is how sjm communicates her feelings about the characters (which i feel is evident in the Nessian bond) Feyre says rhysand is Good and Justified in everything he does, so you the reader must believe it too, right?

The rest of the Inner Circle also falls into this. Mor is allowed to unfairly treat Nesta like shit, Cassian is unquestioned when it comes to his mistreatment of his mate, azriel is a background tapestry, and amren is a whole different issue tbh.

Nesta is the outlier. She is not perfect and we know it because of how mistreated she is by the people that surround her. Cassian is a horrible partner, letting rhysand do and say what he wants to her, restricting her food and being very neglectful of Nestas mental health. Nesta is a flawed character but shes not an antagonist. Her flaws does not call for this sort of treatment. It is disgusting how sjm portrays Nestas character and her “healing arc”. Sjm says she loves nesta, but her treatment says otherwise.

Tamlin receives the brunt of this treatment. He is a flawed character but is not evil. Hes not even a real antagonist, just because he is not friends or on good terms with Feyre and Rhysand does not make him such. His allying with Hybern is used as reasoning for his mistreatment when its clear as day hes a double agent. Tamlin, while he struggles with emotional regulation, anger issues and communication is a very good high lord and his personal relationship with a character does not change that. His actions towards feyre are often called abusive but sjms writing fails to bring this observation to fruition. She fails to actually make him abusive and antagonistic because she accidentally writes her own outs by justifying similar behaviors from other characters.

If you have spent anytime on the majority side of the fandom you have seen the Feyre and Rhysand vs Nesta and Tamlin mentality. Nesta and Tamlin are hated while Feysand are treasured and its because sjm makes a perfect character for you to love so why would you root for the flawed characters hated by the narrative? Nesta and Tamlin are far more nuanced and interesting due to their imperfections, dislike by the narrative, and hatred from the majority fandom. (To note, Nesta and Tamlins characters are different ((although they have some striking similarities)) but their treatment is very equal. Which is why i, and many other people in the fandom compare and combine them so much)

Feyre and Rhysand through the narrative and fans are perfect and can do no wrong. Tamlin and Nesta are frankly evil and undeserving of love. Its intriguing to see this behavior and its almost unique to the acotar and booktok fandom. Which is why i find myself so focused on Tamlin and subsequently the fandom. its so odd and something i havent seen before that it gets stuck in my little adhd brain.

[acourtofthought]

Your posts about Vassa almost always end up pitting her against Elain, and implying that she’s lesser than her, or not good enough for Lucien. You insinuate that Elain is a much more desirable woman, when the reality is, Elain is easily the character people in the fandom dislike the most - often even more than Tamlin. Even a good chunk of Gwynriel’s dislike (or are neutral towards) Elain.

Even Lucien seems more fond of Vassa, and the beauty is: he doesn’t need a pre-arranged, non-consensual, mating bond to want to save Vassa, or to laugh with her, or to want to live with her. Lucien and Vassa are pulled together of their own volition.

And what happens when Vassa becomes a more prominent character in future books? SJM has spoken about wanting to retell the Vasilisa, firebird and Swan Lake fairytales. Her Pinterest board reflects this. Gwyn became a fan favorite in just one book… the same can happen with Vassa. Given what we’ve seen of her personality so far (confident, brave, carefree), I’d say that would happen very easily.

And consider this: as I just mentioned, SJM is planning a Vasilisa, firebird and Swan Lake retelling. This is very clearly about Vassa… so why would she just be a side character in someone else’s book?

Thus, the only way for Vassa’s story to be told is her as the main character, alongside Lucien — a character readers have been familiar with since book 1, and who everyone knows and loves. In comparison… most casual readers would have no idea who Jurian is (or just remember him as the abusive, stalkerish, eye guy - does anyone even want to read about him as a love interest? 🥴).

A Vassa x Jurian novel is unlikely. A Vassa x Lucien novel, however, would make sense. 😏

So what I'm to understand is a side character can't have their story told in someone else's book?

That's so weird then, how Sarah made sure to include in the actual book a phrase stating how Gwyn's story is worth telling yet somehow she can't have her own book according to e/riels because she is and only ever will be a side character!

And you're right, my posts end up "pitting Vassa against Elain" because my posts are typically in response to those such as yourself coming here trying to prove why Vassa is better for Lucien than his own mate. It doesn't matter if the fandom would date her, it matters who her best match in this fictional world is.

Also, I think she's doing just fine with her desirability in the series considering who her two love interests have been 🤦

But my posts are not pitting Vassa and Elain against one another as individuals, they're explaining why Elain is in fact better for Lucien than Vassa. Pointing out how it's Elain he looks at with longing, not Vassa.

I'm fairly sure if I was oh so lucky to look over your page and liked posts you'd have plenty on there pitting Lucien against Azriel.

Come now, please don't honestly think you can insult my intelligence with your gaslighting.

I think many struggle with Elain's character but that is typically a byproduct of the ship war and how some Gwynriels have been forced to choke down a version of Elain that doesn't actually exist in canon.

People don't actually like Vassa more than Elain because many don't think much about her as a real contender for Lucien's affections. They don't think much on her outside of the very specific role she's played so far.

It's easy to like or feel neutral towards a one dimensional side character because that's really all Vassa is right now. They accept her as being there and accept her as someone who isn't a villain just as they accept Viviane as being there and not a villain but that doesn't mean they actually adore Vassa and can't wait for her to receive a main pov to the point that they want her story with Lucien over an Elucien one.

And yes, SJM is building to something, she's clearly been cursed by Koschei but guess what? Dorians father was cursed by a Valg prince and played an enormous role in the TOG series yet he never took off as anything more than a side character either. He never received a book or his own pov.

If you haven't noticed, SJM already explored the Firebird fairytale when she wrote about Vassa's curse. Some seem to think Sarah goes into a lot of depth with her retellings but she's on record calling them a retelling "light". How much of Hades and Persephone was obvious for Feysand? How much of Beauty and the Beast Feyre and Tamlin? TOG was Cinderella, was it obvious?

She does not need to dedicate an entire book with a Vassa pov for her to explore the fairytale to the depth which she explores most fairytales. Vassa is already written to have a "Russian" accent and we know of her curse which will be broken by someone other than her and probably not Lucien considering neither Helion or Feyre could detect a spell to be broken.

Lucien is not pulled to Vassa of own violation, he went because he had no where else to go:

And if you think it's more beautiful for a couple to be together without a bond than (come a little closer, I want to tell you something) ACOTAR IS NOT FOR YOU - SJM IS A FATED MATES AUTHOR!).

If you don't think fated mates makes for a beautiful love story than what the fuck are you doing here?

And to your point, if a side character can become a fan favorite in one book than why can't Vassa and Jurian receive their own book one day? Where Jurian, also a side character and Vassa have their own love story in the ACOTAR series?

Also, does it matter if Elain is a fan favorite when Sarah seems to like her considering she is on record saying Elain will be getting her own book, how she likes to garden like Elain and would be best friends with Elain in real life? (Nesta wasn't a fan favorite before SF and Sarah said she knew people weren't going to like her yet that's the story she felt she wanted to tell).

Why would the author take a character who could be a best friend in real life, mate her to a male who she wrote to be like Jamie Fraser and who Sarah has also said is one of her favorites yet give them a broken bond that will trail them for their entire lives just so Lucien can end up with a human who literally does not have any interest in the fae world and pays more attention to Jurian because of all the "at each other's throats" bickering they do? That doesn't sound very happy for Lucien at all.

Also, no one knows who Jurian is? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

You're joking, right?

Jurian who was in book 1, who was resurrected in book 2 and "worked" for the King, shot an ash arrow through Az, was there when the sisters were turned, played a prominent role in Spring in ACOWAR, turned out to be a double agent, that Jurian??? The Jurian who was in the war with Mor and Rhys 500 years ago? The Jurian who had way more page time than Vassa yet you think people don't know who he is? The Jurian who shares the same vision as Vassa for leading the humans. The one who is iconic for sitting on a pink couch. The Jurian who would be crowned King because he's keeping everything running and Lucien says he's thankful for him?

You're right, I've got no clue who that guy is. 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Penny for your thoughts, if Vassa was clearly meant to have a book with Lucien, than why do you suppose SJM said this?

The second book had to be Elain's at this time, correct? Because in that exact same interview she wrote how she'd already done research for Elain's book. And she was "keeping the door open after that".

That means Vassa was never guaranteed to get her own book. That logically means Koschei was always going to be resolved in the book after Nesta's because she wouldn't just keep him hanging unresolved in the background while she decided who she'd write about after Elain's book.

I guess Sarah never planned on putting as much effort into that Firebird fairytale as you seem to be trying to convince yourself.

[stargirlfeyre]

There’s a difference between rightfully calling out how Sjm is a Zionist…And using this genocide to spread hate towards characters you don’t like while still supporting Sjm through the characters you do like.

I don’t know why a lot of people *cough Nesta, Tamlin, Lucien, and Eris fans cough* feel this disconnect when it comes to the characters they like and Sjm but let’s me just break this down for you.

Calling out Sjm’s Zionism by saying “xyz is doing what I*rael is doing to Palestine” or “xyz character would be team Palestine and xyz character would be team I*rael” is not the activism you think it is. Calling people Zionist for supporting/liking one specific character reeks of ignorance and quite frankly, makes you look like a fucking clown because at the end of the day…all of these characters are written by a Zionist. Thinking one character reflects Maas’ ignorance while coincidently your favorite characters are spared from it when they all come from the same place shows how a lot of you genuinely aren’t able to access critical parts of your brains.

Tamlin, Nesta, Eris, and Lucien are characters born from Sjm. Fans of these people cannot be going around calling anyone genocide supporters or trying to use this genocide as a way to put certain fictional characters on a pedestal when…they all come from the same person. You like a character who you believe the author dislikes…that doesn’t change that this character was made by a Zionist.

And coming back to my original point. You guys are performative activists. The way y’all call out Sjm for being a Zionist is genuinely laughable. Cause saying that your favorite characters - that she created - would support Palestine is definitely going to show her. Cause using a literal genocide where horrific crimes are being committed to prop up a fictional character is definitely going to show her. Cause complaining about her morals while continuing to support her and condemning everyone else for it- while you do the same thing by liking her characters - is definitely going to show her…When you use a genocide to prop up people who don’t exist instead of calling out the author for being a bigot, the conversation gets lost and no one is actually held accountable for their actions.

You can point out how Sjm’s views bleed into her writing, but the problem is y’all just don’t make sense. It’s clear you’re doing it to tear down characters you don’t like and y’all think people are dumb enough to not notice.

Just a bunch of empty heads.

[bookishfeylin]

ramblings sorry lol. such a horrific issue with sjms choices is that real abuse survivors are affected by how she and the fans treat an abuser. rhysand's controlling behaviour is very familiar to me and seeing people defend him and defend that specific behaviour is a horrible feeling. A friend of mine feels the same, we had very different experiences but both of us see similarities between what we went through and what feyre went through, which is such an amazing thing in fiction as a side note, seeing people who are like you or who went through the shit that you did and seeing them continue and live after is so cathartic, which is why im so mad at sjms choice to ignore that opportunity and cultivate an audience that celebrates and justifies abusive behaviour because her books do the same. This is even more of an issue because sjm decided to bring themes of abuse and mental health into her books, and act like the same abusive behaviour is somehow different purely because its tamlin not rhysand. Rhysands always been abusive from day one, why does the series act like its serious about mental health and abuse when sjms writes a love story/ramantasy between an abuser and the victim????

Also a little heartbreaking seeing feyre become somewhat irrelevant in her own story? the books dont feel like theyre about her anymore imo, its about rhysand...

Agreed, 100%. The same people who unironically post crap like this:

Somehow believe they are the end all authority on what is and isn’t abusive and believe that this series somehow handles those themes of abuse and mental health well. And that’s absurd to me.

They have no issues with how Feyre is treated, just who happens to be treating her one way or another. And that does a disservice to the themes this series is supposed to be tackling, because if the only litmus test for abuse is whether or not you like the love interest doing it then there’s no point in bothering to analyze the books through that framework in the first place.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

lmao i started acotar but got bored with tamlin (being blonde and boring is a criminal offense for a man in my book) and then got into fanfiction and there was a lot of good ones but i was getting spoiled so literally just read another like 50 pages of acotar (rhys' and lucien's scenes) and then read about half of acomaf because i loved the ic and then only read a few pages of acowar because it got a bit worse but still loved the ic and read the snowball scene in the starlight book and then read some of acosf because i liked nesta but that book was actually pretty bad because of too much smut but also because of the character assassination everyone went through and the plot wasn't really plotting (i rolled my eyes so many times that book, it's a miracle i actually made it through like the 60 pages i did read in full). i could name so many acotar fan fiction writers that can bring so much more life into these characters and more interesting plots than sjm ever could. sometimes i think reading acotar after the ballad of songbirds and snakes was a setup but also sjm is a published author and the books were getting so much hype that i feel like it's fair to judge a book i payed to read. but i hear this a lot - people often think acotar fanfiction is better than the books, sjm should be paying yall

Lmaooo this is so real of you. I think there are more people like this than anyone realises, and that’s totally cool. If you know the premise of the books and fanfiction is where you get the most satisfaction, then that’s all you need 💅🏻there are so many great writers in this fandom that it actually blows me away, they deserve to be paid for their brilliance 😭

[ae-neon]

you mocking feyre for not being able to read is tearing her down for something she can't control.

you say she's barely an adult, but she's twenty years old. you're taking a horrific tragedy that affects 12 million (according to my government's statistics) girls under eighteen are forced into every year and using it to shit on a fictional couple you don't like.

as for the breeding cow and lapdog comments, i seem to have mistaken you for someone else, and if that is the case i apologize.

also addressing the illiterate fans thing, even if i was just an irate nesta anti, you are not a person who's opinion i care about.

all this to say something very simple: the words you use matter. the negative connotation you speak about feyre with (belittling her for her life experience, choice of partner, using housewife as a negative word) matter. there is misogyny in the way you speak, whether you see it or not.

so while yes you absolutely can speak on the misogyny in fandom, you should do it with the open caveat and knowledge that you have several times spoken with misogynistic language. and unfortunately, that language you use does in fact make you less credible within the overall conversation.

"Belittling her for her life choices" why do you keep confusing me with other people? Or are you just making general accusations again?

Telling me to shut up about the misogyny in these books because I'm not cheering the main character's every decision is not the feminist move you think it is

Firstly, feminism is not putting every woman or every action by a woman on a pedestal. Some women are complicit in not just upholding systems of oppression but benefiting from them.

Let's take Feyre for example

Since you obviously know nothing about me: I have said Feyre has every right to stand up for herself, that she has no obligations towards Nesta, that she is a strategic thinker etc

I have also said she has narcissistic tendencies and makes stupid decisions and that she's unsuited to the position of HL - partly because of her lack of education

That last thing is probably the one that got you red in the face but ask yourself why only the criticism is counted as belittling her life choices?

I am not mocking Feyre for being unable to read something she can't control but then rejects the offer Tamlin makes to teach her?( I mocked a stan for using the first few chapters of acotar to call Nesta lazy when in those chapters she chops wood twice)

When I point out Feyre's illiteracy, it is mostly to point out how sjm put no effort into developing the character or showing us how Feyre is suddenly qualified for the highest administrative seat and power over others lives. She - like the rest of the nepotism gang and their greasy king - uphold and benefit off of the labour and oppression of others.

I live in a country where unqualified and corrupt people - including the wives and girlfriends of important men - use nepotism to benefit themselves so excuse me for not being happy for her

Also I don't think I ever used the term housewife in a negative connotation??? - again not sure where this is coming from since I and many other people have actually pointed out how the elder Archerons domestic work in the cabin years is devalued (again, because this book and it's fans tend to be misogynistic)

Now about the child bride thing.

First, I want to explain in the simplest terms possible : removing context and intention from what is said in order to make it seem like meaning can only be derived from the words themselves is not only an obtuse and disingenuous act, it's also an act rooted in racism and misogyny.

I don't have the energy to get into it but for example, certain cultures have practices not rooted in misogyny but rooted in gender. If someone from that culture says "women don't play this instrument and men don't wear black" and you swoop in to tell them they are sexist, are you not being racist and ethnocentric? Context matters.

"cunt" is a word rooted in misogyny but you're not gonna accuse someone of being a misogynist for using it are you?? Sometimes it's not even meant to be an insult, sometimes it's an aesthetic praise, "she got a buzzcut and dyed it green, that with the sock boots, ugh, she looks so cunty"

Sorry for literally having to teach you but with that can you understand that when I say Feyre is a child bride - the context pertains to the fictional book I'm addressing???

I am not talking about 12 year old girls in arranged marriages. I am talking about a fictional character in a book that was sold to teenagers and told them that the kidnapper groom was the "feminist king"

You, suddenly using the very real issue of child sex trafficking and how many girls are affected in your country, as a shield for Feysand of all ships is the act of insanity.

Which do you think adds more to the issue : me saying child bride or sjm writing a book for kids where a 19yo gets kidnapped and then marries her kidnapper?

Maybe the word gets a reaction out of you cause you're finally confronted with the horror of the situation? Idk and idc

Secondly, I don't appreciate this attempt at tone policing. (Another thing you do thats rooted in misogyny and racism - guess you're less credible now or something?)

You don't have to like the way I say things for them to be considered worth anything. Your understanding is not the standard I have to adjust myself to.

The kicker here is that I have said, more than once, I am not an unbiased source of information or content nor have I ever claimed to be

So on every level of this attempt to bash me, you have failed to bring anything worthwhile to the table.

You can just disagree with me because you like Feysand, I'm literally not gonna judge you but you don't have to do Olympics level mental gymnastics to try find some way to discredit my posts. (Which again are just half-joking rants on my personal blog)

[starryevermore]

i will go to secret gardens in my mind ✧ tamlin

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader

summary: you have always been a wallflower, but to tamlin, you are the finest rose in the garden. 

word count: 7,676

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, unrequited feelings, pining, multi pov, plot twist perchance??, not proofread 

PART TWO

The Spring Court had been rebuilt. What would have been a joyous occasion under any other circumstances, for perhaps any other court, left your family scowling as they looked over the invitation that landed on Rhysand’s desk this morning. An invitation to all courts—to come to Spring and celebrate the burgeoning court. No one, it seemed, wanted to go. It was understandable, of course. After everything that Spring’s High Lord, Tamlin, had put Feyre through—had put your entire family through—it almost felt like walking into a trap. But call you naïve, or perhaps a tad too optimistic for your own good, but you wanted to believe that Tamlin might have truly turned over a new leaf. Sometimes, it took someone losing everything to learn the value of all that they hold dear. No one wanted to go, it seemed, except for you.

Well, and Lucien, but he often fought in Tamlin’s corner. “Tamlin is a far cry from what you remember him as,” he said. “What he did to Feyre was horrible, but he’s trying to make amends. Isn’t the point of the Night Court to offer second chances?”

“We don’t owe that worm a second chance,” Nesta snarled, her eyes narrowing at Lucien. 

“It might be good for Feyre to close this chapter of her life,” Lucien continued. 

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Because you care so much about Feyre’s wellbeing. Remind me, what were you doing while she wasted away in that manor?”

“All I’m saying is, you should consider hearing him out. We all were troubled after Under the Mountain. His actions were, are, shameful, but that doesn’t mean he cannot regret what he did.”

You noticed the tension in Feyre’s shoulders and reached out, placing your hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to go. I just thought it might be fun. We haven’t just gone out in so long.”

Rhysand’s narrowed gaze turned on you. “Then we can go to Rita’s, or take a walk down the Sidra. Hell, I’m sure if we asked Tarquin, we could have a nice trip down to Summer if you’re wanting to go somewhere warm. We don’t have to go all the way to the damned Spring Court for fun.”

A sigh escaped your lips. You rose from your seat, turned to leave. “Forget I said anything.”

Feyre looked up at you. She said your name, standing to follow after you. “If you want to go—”

You waved her off. “It’s alright. I didn’t want to go that bad. I only thought it would be fun, but Rhys is right. We can do something else instead.”

She said your name again, but you ignored her. You understood why she of all people would be apprehensive of going to Spring. Trust and believe, you understood. Tamlin was hardly the most wonderful person in Prythian in your eyes. He let Feyre waste away, he sold you, Nesta, and Elain out to Hybern in a vain attempt to get Feyre back…At every turn, it seemed like he was dead set on humiliating her. But when it was all said and done, he still gave up a kernel of his power to bring back Rhysand. “Be happy, Feyre,” he’d said. It was nothing groundbreaking, it was not even close to an apology for all he’d done, but it seemed like a step in the right direction. 

As you retreated to your room, you didn’t have to look to know you were being followed. Ever since Elain had accepted the mating bond with Lucien, Azriel always trailed so close behind you, he was like a second shadow. When you reached your room, you left the door open, allowing him to slip inside. The door clicked shut behind him. 

You took a seat in the bay window, looking out over the city of Velaris. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

The cushion sank underneath Azriel’s weight. You moved over, avoiding your knees knocking into his. “I just want to know what’s going on in your mind.”

“Does it matter? Rhysand has made his decision clear.”

“Of course it matters. It matters to me.”

It should’ve tugged at your heartstrings to hear him say those words. But all you were reminded of was how Azriel pined after Elain for so long, and for Mor for centuries before that. You were all too aware that you were just the latest object of his affection. “I don’t know. I just…It feels like something is calling for me to go there. Something trying to tug me along until I finally cross over Spring’s border.”

When you spared Azriel a glance, you noted the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. “You should tell Rhys that. He might be more amenable.”

“Rhysand is hardly amenable to anything that isn’t already in his favor.” You shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m Elain, with some vision about why we need to go to Spring. I just…I don’t know. I have a feeling it’s somewhere I should be.”

Azriel looked you over. Perhaps he was trying to ascertain if you’ve lost your mind. And maybe you had. You could hardly explain the feeling, deep in your chest, that pulled you towards the Spring Court. The feeling only intensified when you learned of the invitation to come to Spring’s celebration. “I’ll talk to Rhys for you. He’s been wanting to forge alliances with the other courts. If he’s able to extend a hand to Spring, other courts might be willing to work with him.”

You shrugged again. “Do as you please.”

He reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it. At least you found a modicum of comfort in the gentle squeeze. Azriel’s mouth opened—to say what, you weren’t sure, for a knock sounded against your door. It opened shortly after, Feyre slipping inside. Her eyes fell to your joined hands. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. You pulled away. One of his shadows trailed after you.

“We’re going to Spring,” she said, smiling. But it didn’t reach her eyes. 

You stood up, crossing the room in a few strides, then took Feyre’s hands. “We don’t have to if it’ll cause you pain. I don’t mean to dredge up those terrible memories.”

“I am High Lady. I can set aside those feelings for one night, if it might end in an alliance that will benefit my people. Besides, Lucien might be right. It might do me some good to speak with Tamlin under better circumstances.”

“Are you sure?”

She offered you a smile. “I’m sure.” She squeezed your hands. “You haven’t asked for much since you’ve come here. The least I can do is give you this.”

You shook your head. “No, Feyre, you’ve already gave up so much for our family—”

“Hush. If I didn’t want to do it, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Fine. But the second you’re uncomfortable, we all leave, okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Okay.”

Rhysand was certainly giving you the cold shoulder since Feyre insisted that you all go to the Spring Court, but you could hardly find it in yourself to care. Not when you finally got to trade in the darkness of Night for the blossoming life of Spring. You couldn’t wait to finally leave Night’s borders. You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had the opportunity to leave, save for the war with Hybern. Other than that, though, you had bounced between Rhysand’s many homes, going to whichever place made you least likely to pick a fight with the High Lord. These days, that was primarily the House of Wind, since he had given it to Cassian and Nesta. That, of course, left you with even fewer chances to go out. If you didn’t have an Illyrian to fly you down, you would have to brave the 10,000 stairs. And you were no Valkyrie—you were sure you wouldn’t even make it down a few dozen before throwing in the towel. Of course, you were certain that Azriel would be more than pleased to be at your beck and call. 

After all, he sat on your bed now, watching as you rifled through your dresses, trying to pick something out to wear. 

“You look beautiful in anything,” he said. “Why are you putting so much effort into this?” A hidden question was on the tip of his tongue—Were you trying to impress someone? Perhaps him?

“My mother always said, when you go outside, you look your best because you never know what will happen.”

Azriel stood up, crossing over to your wardrobe. A scarred hand wrapped around yours, stopping you from flicking through the dresses. His voice was husky as he asked, “And what do you think will happen?” 

Your face grew warm. Even if you knew that he was only pursuing you because you were an Archeron, for a male to be so close to you…Well, it was easy to get you flustered. Stuck between Nesta’s vivaciousness and Elain’s sweetness, it was easy for you to fade into the background. When your family was better off, everyone flocked to Elain. After your family became rich again, Elain garnered so many men’s attention. Even Feyre, when your family was its lowest, found herself with someone, if just for the pursuit of pleasure. But you…You were a wallflower through and through. 

“Anything. Nothing,” you said. 

Your breath stilled as Azriel pulled a dress from your wardrobe. It was a beautiful blue tulle dress. Silver stars littered its entire body. There was a tasteful slit up one side. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, you knew there was a matching pair of long, sheer gloves. You had gotten it for Starfall, but found yourself tucking it away in favor of a simpler gown. It, however, wasn’t lost on you that its color complemented Azriel’s cobalt siphons well. 

“You should wear this,” he said. “In case something does happen.”

You found yourself nodding. 

A soft smile crossed his face. It took everything in you to not look away, lest you give him the wrong idea. You may have been a wallflower, but you were not a demure female. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

You nodded again. 

Azriel placed the dress in your hands. You expected him to leave, but he lingered still. His hand grasped yours, pulling it up to meet his lips. He made eye contact with you the entire time, hazel eyes twinkling, before he pulled away. 

When he was finally gone, a sigh escaped your lips. A part of you, you recognized, should have been delighted at Azriel’s attention. He was an attractive male. He had so many qualities that you admired—protective, loyal, kind. But anytime you looked at him, you were reminded of his past history with females. How he pined after Mor for centuries. How he fixated on Elain. In both cases, each made it clear in their own ways that it would never go further. And here you were, certain that you were sending clear signals that you were uninterested, and yet…There he remained. Where was Rhysand, telling him to leave you be? Could you only be left alone if you had a mate?

Perhaps it would be easier, you mused as you changed into the dress, if this tug in your chest was for Azriel. That, by going to Spring, something would happen that would make the bond snap for him. At least if he was your mate, you could convince him to get a home of your own, far away from the busybodies occupying the Inner Circle. At least you would finally feel free enough to breathe on your own. 

You spared a glance in the mirror, satisfied with your hair and makeup, before leaving your room. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see Azriel waiting on the other side of the door, shadows swirling around him. His face brightened as he saw you. An arm was extended toward you. You took it. 

“Beautiful, just as I expected.” Azriel smiled at you. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

All eyes were on the Inner Circle as you entered the manor, but you were too busy looking at everything else. Spring was…Mother, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever seen before. Not even Elain’s gardens held a candle to the beauty housed here. It was difficult to imagine how a Court so ethereal could have been in ruins just months before. It was easier, though, to see how Feyre could fall in love with this land. 

It was even easier, you mused, to fall in love with Spring’s High Lord as he stepped into the Inner Circle’s path. It was the first time you really got a good look at him. When you were taken, you hadn’t dared look at your captors. And when you came out of the Cauldron, you cried so hard you couldn’t see. But the male before you now…Wow. 

“Welcome,” he said, extending a hand to Rhysand. As Rhysand shook it, he turned to Feyre. “Thank you all for coming. I cannot imagine it was an easy decision to make.”

Feyre tilted her head in your direction. “Thank Lucien and my sister. It was their convincing arguments that brought us here.”

Tamlin’s emerald eyes fell to you. Something in your chest tugged harder, but you couldn’t dwell on it as Azriel took a subtle step in front of you. A charming smile passed across the High Lord’s lips. “Well, thank you, too,” he said. “And if I may, I must offer the utmost apologies for everything that transpired the last time our paths crossed. There is no excuse for my actions.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of the Cauldron. The memory of being submerged as a human, reemerging as a fae…How everything was so different, too intense. It was, perhaps, the darkest part of your life thus far. You prayed it was never so dark again. “It wasn’t all bad,” you found yourself saying. “At least now I can live a long life with my sisters.”

“That is a generous way to think about it,” Tamlin said. He took a step toward you, a hand outstretched. His eyes flicked to Azriel as a growl escaped the Spymaster. Still, he reached for your hand. When you slipped it into his, he lifted it toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Something, something akin to joy, swirled inside of you. A tendril of a shadow pulled your hand from Tamlin’s. “Would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?”

“I—” The Inner Circle tensed around you, though you caught Lucien rolling his eyes at their antics. A dance didn’t seem so horrible, but you hated the way Feyre looked so uncomfortable at the prospect. You wished you were a daemati and could see what she was thinking. “Perhaps later. I should like to spend some time mingling.”

Tamlin seemed disappointed, but he still smiled as he said, “Of course. Have fun.”

He nodded at Feyre and Rhysand before disappearing into the crowd. 

“It was like he disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Y/N,” Mor remarked, plucking a glass from a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Don’t,” Feyre warned. She looked at you, her eyes wide with worry. “Don’t fall for his charms. Dance with him if you so wish. But…I don’t know how much I believed him to have changed.” 

“I won’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done to you. It will take more than charming smiles and offers for dances to win me over,” you said, turning away from her. Your heart clenched at her distrust. Well, perhaps it wasn’t distrust. To be here, to be in Spring again, must have been extraordinarily difficult for her. But you were her sister. You knew her struggles, her pain, better than most. You weren’t going to throw all that away because Tamlin was kind to you. You weren’t that sort of female. 

A scarred hand caught your wrist before you could slip away into the crowd, perhaps find a nice corner to hide in and people watch. “Would you? Like to dance?” Azriel asked. 

“I see Kallias and Viviane. I would like to say hello.”

You could feel the Inner Circle’s eyes on you as you disappeared into the throng of fae. Though you were no daemati, you could practically hear their collective thoughts: You would be better off with Azriel. But what did they know about you?

Coming here was a mistake. You’d decided so hours ago as you could see various members of the Inner Circle keeping tabs on you from the corner of your eye. Despite hardly making a move from the corner you resided in, save for trips to the refreshment table or conversations with the few friends you had made from other courts, they still hovered. You wondered if it was under Rhysand’s orders, or perhaps Feyre’s. To make sure you didn’t slip away to dance with Tamlin, become the next pretty thing trapped in his gilded cage. 

You sucked your tongue against your teeth as you watched Azriel approach you from across the room, Nesta and Cassian slipping off onto the dance floor. The changing of the guards. Your eyes rolled. Of everyone, Azriel’s presence was the worst. While the others would linger, he would stay by your side, trying to coax conversations out of you or pull you over for a dance. It might have been sweet if you weren’t all too aware that it was a vain effort to keep you from Tamlin. And unlike the others, who would have been merely following orders from the High Lady and Lord, Azriel had his own ulterior motives. 

When you lost sight of Azriel, dancing couples blocking each other’s view of the other, you took the opportunity to slide out a nearby door and into the hall. They would be furious to learn you left—especially when it was because of you that they were even here. But you couldn’t handle the hovering any longer. 

The music from the ballroom soon faded into the background as you walked down the hall, searching for some sanctuary. There were groups of fae lingering around the hallway, but none paid you any mind. It was refreshing, if you were being honest. They had no idea who you were, who your sisters were, of what they had done to save Prythian (or doom this court). You smiled at one couple, wrapped up in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of all that happened around them. 

You spied an open door and slipped inside. It was far smaller than the ballroom, but still grand. Paintings hung along the walls—a few you recognized to be in Feyre’s style. The thing that caught your eye, though, was the handsome piano in the middle of the room. A smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you’d had a chance to play. During your family’s dark years, you of course didn’t have access to any instruments, much less one so expensive. When you arrived in Velaris, straight out of the Cauldron, you had clung to the instrument, letting all of your pain flow out of you until there was nothing left. These days, though, you had strayed away.

You took a seat at the bench and ran your fingers along the ivory keys. You tested a few notes to see if it was still in key, but you didn’t make it very far. 

“Do you play?”

Tamlin stood in the doorframe, watching you curiously. Panic settled in your chest. If the Inner Circle, if Feyre, found out that you were alone with Spring’s High Lord, you knew they would be less than pleased. But that tug in your chest—it pulled harder than it ever had before, and that brought you an odd sort of comfort. 

“Yes.”

“May I hear you play something?”

You eyed him, trying to ascertain if this was some trick. As much as you wanted to believe your family was being overdramatic, you did wonder if they knew something you didn’t. When you sensed no ill motives, you gave a nod. 

As you pressed down on the keys, it felt like everything melted away around you. There was no inter-court politics to be wary of. No Shadowsingers following close on your heels. No sisters whose heart would surely break if she knew you were letting him in. Just you and the music that flowed out. 

“That was beautiful,” he said as the final note rang through the room. He took a few steps closer to you. Tamlin extended a hand. “I wish, though, that I could still hear it while we danced. If you would like to, that is.”

You stared at his outstretched hand. 

“Just say the word if you don’t wish to. I know you didn’t dance out there, but I thought, perhaps, without all those eagle eyes watching you—”

You took his hand. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That’s alright. Neither am I.”

Tamlin was a right liar, he was. As he spun you around the room, you clumsily just missing his feet, you knew he was a liar. But the awkward dance made you laugh, harder than you had in a long time. The tug in your chest pulled more than it ever had before. 

“If this is you at your worst, I would hate to see how skilled you would be after a few lessons,” you teased. 

“We could take lessons together,” Tamlin suggested. The thought made your smile grow, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Maybe after tonight, your High Lord will let you visit more often.”

“Perhaps—” you began to say. 

“That will never happen.”

Shadows swirled around you, tugging you out of Tamlin’s arms. You gasped, a chill running down your spine. Large wings kept Tamlin out of your view. When you tried to look around Azriel, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place. 

“Did he do something to you?” Azriel asked. 

“What? No!”

“You just disappeared. Everyone’s in a panic. Feyre looked ready to kill, Nesta ready to hide the body. We didn’t know what happened to you. We didn’t know if you were hurt or—” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Tamlin. “—or worse.”

“I’m fine! I’m not some damsel in distress—”

“Of course not. But you have to understand—”

“No! You have to understand that you are not my knight in shining armor, Azriel! I am not so stupid to just waltz headfirst into danger. If I ever found myself in such a position, I would have screamed or called out for Rhysand and prayed he was listening. I do not need saving, especially not—” You caught Tamlin’s eye over Azriel’s shoulder. Something snapped into place, a golden thread tying you to him. “—especially not with my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. Hurt, maybe? Or anger? “He can’t be—”

“He is. He is the reason I felt the calling to come to Spring, Az. He’s my mate, and you have to respect that.”

Behind you, you heard a flurry of footsteps as the room quickly filled. Your eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. Was it not enough to have to deal with Azriel? Did everyone else have to come, too? 

Feyre’s voice rang through the room. “Y/N, come here, please.”

“I should be allowed to make the choice to come, shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what the Night Court is all about?” You looked at her, a solitary tear dropping down your face. “What? Are choices not allowed when it goes against your wishes?”

“Please,” she repeated, her hand reaching out for you. 

Tamlin stepped around Azriel, stood by your side. “I would not hurt her, Feyre. I have given you every reason to distrust me, to hate me, but I wouldn’t do anything to her.”

Feyre closed the distance between the two of you, Rhysand hot on her heels. She snarled at Tamlin, “I have every reason to not believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I understand—”

Her finger jabbed at his chest. “Don’t. Don’t you dare give me any honeyed words or false promises about how Y/N—my sister—being your mate changes things. A skunk still stinks even when it hasn’t sprayed.”

“Feyre, please, can’t we just talk this through—” you tried. This was going horribly wrong. You hadn’t imagined any of this would happen just by following the tugging in your chest. A mate, you might have suspected. But all of this—

Her head snapped toward you. Her eyes glazed over as Rhysand spoke into her mind. When they cleared, she spoke with the authority of a High Lady but with none of the love of a sister.“You said we could leave if I became uncomfortable. I would like to leave,” Feyre said. “Rhys, please, get her out of here.”

Rhysand’s hands were on you, winnowing you away, before you could even dare to make your protests. But you didn’t miss the pain in Tamlin’s beautiful emerald eyes. 

Feyre had made a terrible mistake. Since that horrible, awful ball, you were moved into the River House so she and Rhys could keep an eye on you. While you might not have been able to leave the House of Wind without an Illyrian to fly you down or otherwise brave the 10,000 steps, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to go. At least here, they could make sure you remained in place. Anyone who wished to see you, save for Spring’s Cauldron damned High Lord, could. They just needed to make are that something horrible wouldn’t happen. 

But you hadn’t left your room in weeks. They would send food up to you, but would find only small bites taken out of it when they came for the next meal. You had said scarcely a single word. The only time you would move from your bed was to take a bath, where you would sit for hours still. Once, Feyre had gone to check on you, to make sure that you hadn’t hurt yourself, and found you staring at the bubbled water, unblinking. You hadn’t even realized she was there.

The only person you seemed to respond to was Azriel. He would go to your room, crawl in your bed, and play with your hair. Sometimes, Feyre would linger in the doorway, watching you and him. Azriel would talk to you, try and convince you to leave your room. You would only cry.

And now, Feyre paced the length of Rhys’s office, chewing on the corner of a fingernail. Rhys sat at his desk, his face leaned against his palm. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know how to make this better. She, she’s wasting away in there.”

Rhys let out a sigh. “There is an obvious solution to the problem, though not the preferred one.”

Feyre spun on her heel, narrowing her eyes at her mate. “You know perfectly well that I can’t just let her be with Tamlin. It would be safer sending her into a viper’s den.”

He rose and crossed the room, took her hands in his own. “You don’t mean that. You and Tamlin were not right for each other, especially after everything that happened Under the Mountain. You no longer wanted the same things as him. Was his actions wrongful? Of course. He could have tried to help you, but you also pushed him away. It was doomed from the start.”

“And I should let her go into a doomed relationship with him?” Feyre poked her finger at Rhys’s chest. “She is too good for that. She deserves a better mate.”

“I agree. But the Mother found reason to bind their souls together. You once thought I was something straight out of a nightmare, but look how far we’ve come.”

“I recall you hating Tamlin for everything he did to me.”

“And I do. I still do.” A sigh escaped Rhys’s lips. “But I also look at Y/N and remember having to leave you behind in Spring. I remember collapsing in Mor’s arms, begging for just a chance with you. I was a shell of myself then. I worry that if we keep them apart, we’ll lose her either way.”

Feyre turned away. She looked toward the door. For a flicker of a moment, she wished she could go back to that horrible cottage, when she was still a human. Even if survival was a struggle at best, she didn’t have to worry about your sweet soul being taken advantage of. 

“Send a letter to Tamlin,” she finally said. “Tell him he is welcome to come here. If Y/N so wishes to leave with him, she may. But make clear, if a single hair on her head is harmed, if we receive a single word that she is being treated as anything less than what she deserves, it will constitute an act of war.” 

Tamlin stared up at the River House. He had moved faster than he had ever moved before when the invitation to come to the Night Court was extended. So fast, he realized with a glance at his feet, he forgot to put on shoes before winnowing away. He hoped you wouldn’t mind. Ever since Rhysand had winnowed you out from under his nose, he had been a mess. If Tamlin thought losing Feyre was him at his lowest, it paled in comparison to losing you. Worse yet, he had the previous experience to know he couldn’t give into his desperate impulses and expect everything to go smoothly. No, he had to tread carefully. 

Still, he found himself sending you letters over the last few weeks. Tamlin never received a response, but he never expected one. He wasn’t sure how well you were being surveilled, if the Inner Circle were taking active steps to keep you from contacting him. But he hoped his words brought you some modicum of comfort. 

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock. Rhysand looked him over. “You didn’t have time to at least make yourself presentable?”

“I thought if I took too much time, the invitation would be rescinded.”

Rhysand’s brow raised. “I wasn’t aware you could have such intelligent thoughts. You know, since you had sided with Hybern so readily in the beginning.”

Tamlin bit back a snarl. It would not end well to pick a fight with Night’s High Lord. He knew good and well he was out-powered, and he was sure that Feyre’s threat should also extend to any threat her own mate faced. Instead, he said as diplomatically as he could manage, “It was a terrible mistake, but one I would make again if it would give me a chance to live a long life with my mate, should she so have me.”

Feyre appeared, pushing Rhysand out of the doorway. She, too, scrutinized his appearance, nose wrinkling at the sight of him, but at least had the courtesy to say nothing about it. “You came quickly.”

Somewhere in the distance, Tamlin could hear Cassian chortle and mutter something about “that’s what she said.” 

“I did not know how long this invitation of hospitality might remain open.” Tamlin searched Feyre’s eyes, searching for a sign of your wellbeing. “Is she alright?”

Tamlin watched as Feyre swallowed, her hands subtly shaking. She had always cared deeply about her sisters, perhaps you more than Nesta or Elain. Where Nesta could hold her own and Elain was sweet enough to charm any potential suitor, she worried that you were too quiet for your own good. Too willing to slip into the shadows and be forgotten. 

“She has hardly eaten since that night. We…We have fixed dinner. We thought she might be more amenable if you brought a plate to her room?”

“Of course, of course,” Tamlin said. Feyre moved out of the threshold, motioning for him to step inside. He did. “Has she…?”

“She hasn’t said a word. She just sits and stares. I thought females were able to suppress the bond. I don’t understand why she is so afflicted.”

Tamlin suppressed an eye roll. He had to play nice, at least until he could see you again. Until he could find out if you wished to be his mate. “You took her choice away, Feyre,” he bit out, weighing his words carefully. “Anyone would be heartbroken by such a betrayal. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Rhysand snarled, but Tamlin ignored him. He maintained eye contract with Feyre until she looked away, gesturing to the dining room. “Take a plate to her room. Just up the stairs, third door on the right.”

He gave a curt nod and did as directed. Every step weighed him down. Tamlin was grateful, at least, for the plate in his hand, to distract him from the sinking feeling in his chest. Neither you nor him had closed off the bond. Tamlin felt every bit of your anguish and he had done everything he could to send comfort down the bond. Every day, he prayed to the Mother that it helped you. Now, as he stood on the other side of your door, he wasn’t sure it did.

The door was ever so slightly ajar. Tamlin pushed it open. The sight nearly made him fall to his knees. You were laying in bed, back to him, staring out the large window overlooking the gardens. If it wasn’t for a subtle rise and fall of your chest, he might have thought you dead. Tamlin stepped inside, walking around your bed, until he faced you. He set the plate on your nightstand and knelt in front of you. 

“Have my dreams begun to torment me, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“No,” Tamlin whispered back. He reached out, cupping your face in his hand. His thumb run over the swell of your cheek. “I am here. I am real. Feyre allowed me to come.”

“I cannot even trust my subconscious now,” you said. You rolled over onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Your comforter moved with you, revealing the papers you kept clutched against your chest. Your eyes fell shut. 

Tamlin sat on the edge of your bed. He reached over and brushed your hair from your face. “Open your eyes, please. I am here. Feyre had Rhysand send me a letter, inviting me here. I can show you if you like?”

An eye opened. “I doubt you could. Everyone knows that written word in dreams hardly makes sense.”

He pulled the letter tucked away in his pocket. Carefully unfolding it, he pressed it into your hands. Your other eye opened. Slowly, you sat up, dropping the other letters—his letters—from your grip. Your eyes scanned over the page, once, twice, three times. Slowly, you looked up, as if seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re here?”

“I am.”

“Feyre allowed it?”

“She did.”

Your hand moved to your mouth. You chewed on your thumbnail. “She would hate me if I left.”

“She would not. And, even if she did, that is her burden to bear. Feyre cannot keep you sheltered here anymore than I could her.” Tamlin grabbed the plate and held it out to you. “Could you eat first, before we talk about this? Please?”

You stared at the plate for a long, silent more. Tamlin nearly thought you hadn’t heard him. He was ready to ask again, the words on the tip of his tongue, when you looked up at him. “Could we go to the gardens to eat?” 

“Of course.” 

Tamlin extended a hand to you. You slipped yours into his grasp. Joy soured through him. He bit back his smile as he helped you to your feet. His hands were quick to move to your waist, steadying you as you swayed. How long had you been laying there, in that bed? Had you even left it? A part of him, a territorial part he worked hard to keep at bay, had half a mind to scold Feyre for waiting this long. He, of course, would be a hypocrite if he did. But you also deserved someone in your corner. 

Slowly, the two of you moved out of your room and down the stairs. At the creak in the wooden steps, all conversation in the dining room ceased. There was a scrape of a chair. Feyre appeared in the doorway as you reached the bottom step. You didn’t make eye contact with your sister as you turned for the exit. 

“Y/N wished to eat in the gardens,” Tamlin said and followed after you. He did not wait for Feyre’s response. 

You stared at Tamlin, chewing on the bread that Elain had made. He made no protest when you plopped yourself on the dirt path. He only sat across from you and watched as you slowly ate your food. It nearly made you sick, if you were honest. You hadn’t experienced this level of hunger since you were human. You remembered when Feyre would bring food home, how you would have to eat slowly so you wouldn’t vomit it all up. There was something about such extreme hunger that it almost felt like food couldn’t save you from the gnawing pain. 

“I still do not quite believe you’re really here,” you said. 

“I can promise you, I am.” Tamlin reached for your hand, and you allowed him to take it. His thumb stroked over your knuckles. “I have missed you. If I wasn’t concerned that an unprompted arrival would have waged a war no court could surely handle, I would have come sooner.”

“It was not right what they did…” You trailed off. 

Tamlin’s emerald green eyes twinkled with curiosity. “But?” he prompted. 

“I am not sure I can find it in my heart to leave them,” you said. His face dropped. His hand started to pull away, but you tightened your grip. “Feyre and Nesta are still here. While Feyre may have given the order to take me away, she is my sister. She sacrificed so much for our family. I feel like I would be throwing it all back in her face to go to Spring with you. At least when Elain left, she was going with Lucien to Day. People she could trust, you know. I worry that if I leave with you, she would never see me again.”

He straightened. “I would never keep you from your sister. Any of them. I have done little to prove such, but I have learned from my mistakes with Feyre. I have grown, am still growing, from them.”

“Not because of you,” you corrected. “You know how she feels about you. Even if I extend an invitation to her, she still may never come. And she may never extend one back. I could never forgive myself if I damaged our relationship so.”

Tamlin’s eyes searched yours. For what, you couldn’t be certain. 

“If she does so, she would be the one to damage the relationship. I have hurt her greatly, I understand. But, if she chooses to plant herself between you and I, that is her choice to make and her consequences to bear.” He reached over, cradling your face in his hand. “You are a grown female. If this is a mistake of its own, then it is your mistake to make. She cannot keep you here any better than I tried to keep her in Spring.”

You looked away. You pushed the plate away and began to rise. Tamlin followed after you. As you began to walk down the path, he trailed after you. He kept a distance between you, far enough that he wasn’t on your heels but close enough that he could be at your side in a few long strides. 

In your heart, you knew he was right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, no matter how hard you tried. After everything Feyre has done, after all she has suffered, staying with her was the least you could do. Yet, why would you sacrifice your happiness for hers when she was so quick to rip it from you without even listening to what you had to say? You could not yet forget  the cold look in her eyes as she ordered Rhysand to winnow you away. She was not your sister then. She was anything but. 

“Come to Spring,” Tamlin said from behind you. You paused in your step. You did not turn, but you listened. “It does not have to be permanent. Come to Spring, see if this is worth it. If you decide that it is not, then I will not stop you from returning here. I will respect whatever choice you make, but I would appreciate it if you could give us a fair shot. That is all I ask of you, I swear it.”

You turned. You looked past Tamlin at the River House. You were certain that Feyre and Rhysand were trying to listen in on the conversation. You were sure they were waiting for your answer. But, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what they thought. After all, they hadn’t cared to ask if you even wanted Tamlin as a mate. 

“One chance,” you said. “One chance, and if I decide to that I would rather a relationship with Feyre, you must not follow.”

“I promise, whatever you decide in the end, I shall respect it.”

Feyre watched as you gripped Tamlin’s arm, an apologetic smile on your lips. She had a million things she wished to say to you—a hundred warnings, a few hundred thousand promises to have her door open to you if you ever want to come back, and an acceptance to the offer to visit Spring in a month’s time. Instead of saying any of those things, she mouthed a goodbye while Tamlin winnowed you away. 

Rhys’s hand fell to her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. Somewhere in the distance, she could see Nesta and Cassian hovering. Elain and Lucien busied themselves with clearing the dishes. 

“She’ll be alright,” Rhys said. “He is not so stupid as to make the same mistakes again.”

Feyre hummed. “Is this where you say it's different with mates?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen too many awful mated couples to say that with any ounce of sincerity. But, I will say, he does seem different with her.”

“And if he isn’t,” Nesta said, stepping toward her, “he will pay tenfold for any pain he causes her.”

Feyre nearly laughed as she watched Cassian nod enthusiastically to Nesta’s threat as he bounced Nyx on his hip. She could only hope that you knew how protected you were—that you had the entirety of the Night Court to support you should trouble ever make its way to you. But any laughter she had, any words she wanted to say, died in her throat as shadows flooded the River House. 

Azriel. 

Shit. Rhys had sent him off on a mission a few days prior. Azriel had been reluctant to go—one of the few times she was certain that Azriel would fight her mate to the death on an issue. But it was Feyre’s promise to keep you safe in the River House that gave him leave to go. She had forgotten that when she had the letter sent to Tamlin, when she bid you goodbye. You were gone now and, worse, you hadn’t said goodbye to him. 

“Where. Is. She.”

Feyre turned, looking at Azriel’s towering form darkening the doorway. His wings were flared out behind him, beating furiously as his shadows continued to search the home for any sign of you.

“She has gone to Spring, with Tamlin.”

Azriel growled. His nostrils flared. The shadows began to swirl around Feyre. Rhys took a step in front of her, ready to block any attack sent her way. Would Azriel attack her? Why would he be so upset about not being able to say goodbye to you? She knew he pined after you, but she thought it was like Mor and Elain. Something one-sided. Had she missed something? 

“It was her choice, brother,” Rhys said. “We are welcome to visit her whenever we so please. If you would like, we can go now, just so you may have a chance to talk to her.”

“If I go to Spring, I’m bringing her straight here. This is where she belongs. Not with that swine of a High Lord.”

“She has every right to choose to be with her mate—”

“No!” Azriel snapped. “I am her mate!”

It felt like time froze. Everyone stared at the Shadowsinger. Even Elain and Lucien came out from the kitchen, concern about his antics. Feyre blinked. No, that couldn’t be. Tamlin was your mate. You had felt the bond with him, and he you. 

“Triads are a thing of legend,” Rhys said slowly. “They haven’t existed in millennia…Cauldron, no one has ever been sure they were ever truly real. You aren’t suggesting…”

“All I know is that the bond snapped when I found her crying after Nyx’s birth, so certain she’d lose her sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in one fell swoop that all three of you surviving overwhelmed her. It snapped as I held her, trying to reassure her that all was right. That no one would hurt her or her family.” Azriel took a step toward them, glowering. “You have sent my mate into a lion’s den. Lesser males have killed for lesser slights.”

“Azriel, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” Feyre tried. 

But he was already gone—wings rustling against the wind as he flew away. To where, she couldn’t say for certain. 

PART TWO

[starlightbooklove]

Hiii, so, today Let's talk about ACOTAR again, why? Because Why not

And today I want to talk about the representation of abuse of men in this SJM series and how many 'fans' decide to ignore the importance of this issue.

We are already clear about the very very good representation of Feyre's trauma and growth, and since it is something we already know I want to talk about someone else: Rhysand's trauma.

Rhys is a man who went through abuse for 50 years, 50 years in which he was vulnerable, humiliated and completely relegated to a position of 'power' that he only had access to through Letting himself go through abuse, something that is made clear when he explains how he put Amarantha's emotions over the edge just so she will stay with him, this, with the intention to keep his people safe.

He assumed that role and then went through the consequences of this decision, and something that many forget is that Feyre is not that the only one traumatized, (AND WITH THIS I DON'T WANT TO GIVE AWAY PLACE TO DISMISS THE TRAUMA OF FEYRE DARLING) And just because Rhys is much older does not mean that he has not suffered, obviously we cannot see it perfectly because Acomaf is told from her point of view, but it is clear that he also suffers the psychological consequences of the abuse he suffered for a long time: The nightmares, isolating himself from his family, not feeling worthy of Feyre's love, feeling like the monster of the magnitude everyone said he was.

And how this actually has a lot of importance in the relationship, Because Rhys was not the only one who helped Feyre, she helped him too, because she was the only one who understood more precisely everything they had gone through under the mountain. She valued and gave real weight to everything that happened and gave him something that is not given much to male abuse, compassion, she gave a sense of importance to his trauma. At the same level that he gave hers, they both gave each other that acceptance of their pain and loss when they were super to not being taken into account in that aspect (outside the IC in Rhys case).

And something that bothers me is that there are people who love to give value to Tamlin's trauma but when it comes to Rhys, his trauma doesn't count because he was bad, because he is a perverse monster. And is like????? Did we read the same book??? And also how you can fall into the same stone that the same author showed many people fall into when it came to criticizing and hating Rhys and calling him a whore, And (in the book) many had reasons to hate him for this, since at first glance he seemed to only receive benefits from this, and give hell to them, but as a reader it is impossible to just think that, there is no excuse to dismiss the Abuse that someone experienced, when You know what happen, whether is fictional or real, and this is something that happens a lot with male characters in series, movies and books. Where their abuse is overlooked by the same story or the viewers and I think that here Sjm did justice to his case, Because she gave them equal value to what they went through, just like many fans that I have seen talk about this, as well as I have seen people who completely forget it.

Lastly, I think that the representation of this kind of trauma and abuse is something that has to be shown with tact and respect and see it in Feysand's writting and their story and That's why it bothers me that people only see it in Feyre (which is also absolutely valid) but ignore it and pull it aside when it comes to him, it's not fair, giving value to another does not take away weight or value from the previous one.

[clemthecustestmonster]

my cousin is currently reading acowar and says ryhsand is her favorite male in the acotar universe and it’s making me sad that her saying that gives me the same ick as when people like tamlin in the first book. Rhysand really had potential but he had to be a bitch to nesta, and lie to feyre (he also has done other things, this is just what comes to mind first). all the bat boys had so much potential but have been ruined. It pisses me off sm that cas gets angry at nesta for talking rudely about rhys, that az is possessive over a woman he just has wet dreams about (like he doesn’t see her as the complex person she is), and most importantly, that the entire inner circle is so emotionally immature and putting the brunt of dealing with THIER SHITTY ATTITUDES ON TWENTY YEAR OLDS WHEN THEY ARE OLD AS SHIT. I liked the inner circle so much in acowar and now i have such a hard time supporting them at all. i still like cassian but that is only because i am actively choosing to ignore (well, try to ignore) the shit he’s given his mate and i have decided to give azriel a chance because i am hoping that if his plot line with gwen plays out he will no longer give off that pervert vibe, but overall i am just sad that these characters i really loved were ruined.

all that said, this is why i am team vanserra. lucien is still great, eris has so much potential and i hope we see a redemption arc for him, and LOA seems unproblematic. i just really hope that the inner circle starts going to counseling or something in the next book so they can sort their shit out because i’m tired of only liking the fan fiction version of their characters.

[gwyns]

E/riel’s are really going crazy over SJM posting that Taylor Swift song, Guilty as Sin, on ber Instagram story. 😂 One E/riel even said “Not going to lie, I think Taylor is an ACOTAR fan. So many of her songs are coded for our girlies. I'm like she's had to have read these books!!!”

I feel like not everything that Sarah posts has to do with her books. Maybe she just wants to post/enjoy girly things without it being deep. If people want to headcanon it for their ship then that’s obviously fine, but some people are being way too aggressive about it. According to and E/riel, one Gwynriel on TikTok said it reminded them of Gwyn because sin makes them think of protested and the E/riel said “People will reach for anything”. So it’s okay for E/riel’s to make headcanons about the song, but Gwyn fans can’t? E/riel’s believe that song is their ship because of the religious language that mimics E/riel.

It kinda reminds me of how E/riel’s say Elain isn’t leaving the NC, but when SJM posted spring stuff on her story they were screaming Elain. Or when some came up with the theory that Azriel’s mother is living in the Spring Court because of his property being called Rosehall, and so they connected Elain to that. Azriel does have a property called Rosehall, but I’m pretty sure Tamlin does too in the SC. Also, it would be weird for Azriel’s mother to live in the SC. Wouldn’t he want his mother close to him just in case? And wouldn’t he and his mother have to get permission by the High Lord of Spring to live in his court? Funny how E/riel’s don’t place Elain in Spring unless it’s to their benefit/it connects her to Azriel. Gotta love that cherry picking.😂

or... and hear me out... taylor makes songs that can be applied to any ship in any fandom, much like a lot of other pop music. it's not that deep lol. e/riels really need to stop reaching so hard, they might throw their backs out if they're not careful

yeah, sjm isn't subtle or really sneaky at all but these new fans seem to think everyone has to leave hints and clues outside of their work, when she has never done that over the span of her decade old career. why start now? anything she writes will earn her millions anyway, seems unnecessary to me. i believe that sjm's new team is just trying to get engagement and that it doesn't go very far beyond that

oh e/riels have severe main character syndrome. they think everything is about them and their ship and if it isn't they twist facts and omit information to make it seem so. it's sad that a lot of them are grown ass adults too like girl... don't you have bills or something to worry about? but you're on social media bullying others over fictional pairings? embarrassing. i know i talk mad shit but god damn i don't keep up with them like they do gwyn fans/gwynriels. i spend my free time on things i don't claim to hate, weird i know! but honestly we all know they're secretly fans at this point 🤭

lmfaoooo they're so hypocritical it's insane. how is elain going to stay in the night court with her sisters, spy besties and broody bat "where she belongs" while also being in spring/tied to spring? we all know azriel is not leaving rhys or his court so... seems to me like you wouldn't want to connect elain to spring. you know something that eluciens and actual elain fans have been doing for years now? because we understand her character?? and yes! no way in hell does az's mom live in the spring court. no way. they're just killing off all their own critical thinking for fun at this point

[jungliet-capuleet]

It’s sad ACOTAR IS SEEN AS AMAZING but when I read it it was like worse than fan fiction

Hi anon! How are you?🥰

I couldn't agree more! 7 courts, 7 different powers. We could have had it all. Before reading it I didn't have a clue on what the series was about, I was crawling up the walls to know the characters ans the story. After the last book I just sat on my bed and cried of frustration.

I've seen fanfictions much more well written than those books. Character development is a true disaster and the worldbuilding left me wondering "what are the names of other cities and places?" "What are the cultures of other courts?". In the end I just read the whole thing to know what happened to Lucien and Tam since sjm DOESN'T EXPLORE THEIR LIVES AND ONLY CARES FOR HER FAVS.

It's sad for me too, I feel you! I hate the main couple, I hate the ic and I wish there were more more scenes of characters like Lucien, Tamlin, Elain, Nesta and Eris. Sometimes it's very uncomfortable for me to read hot scenes, I really don't quite like them so I skipped lots of it.

To be honest, after the hate I started getting because of my opinions, I wish I could unread those books. HOWEVER, I keep myself living inside the first book cause I LOVE a Beauty and the Beast retelling hehe. Also I found some other titles inside YA Fantasy that made me feel alive again after Acotar disaster.

Come to my chat and I can give you some reading ideas, It'll be a pleasure!🥰♥️

[shallyne]

Don’t you just love it when people praise Tamlin for slut-shaming Feyre because he’s just so witty and iconic? It grosses me out that so many people hype Tamlin up and applaud him for his nasty, disgusting comments he made in a room full of old men all to embarrass and degrade Feyre. His comments were gross, Tamlin’s whole character is gross, and all his fans (especially those who justify his actions by blaming Feyre for everything) are gross.

Me when we get Tamlin death trope

NO, we don't love it when that little piece of shit is slut-shaming Feyre in and OFFICIAL war meeting. Bitter little rat.

I actually don't think it's that many people, it's just a VERY LOUD part of the fandom and seeing how big the fandom is over all, they are nothing. But they should keep quiet because they are not only loud, they are also WRONG.

That whole little group gives maniac vibes. I'd say I don't judge but I do, I do judge people for the characters they stan and I'm glad I don't know anyone like that in real life because rhat would be an instand friendship dealbreaker. I'd feel unsafe because I believe the way they view Feyre, even as a fictional character, is saying a lot about them as people.

That's it, byeeee