#tomas mandray

[theladyofbloodshed]

Hey if you’re taking prompts would you do Nesta finally telling Cassian about Tomas and him comforting her?

To kill two birds with one stone... Nessian snippet. TW for sexual assault.

...

‘You could try being nicer.’

One word. Three letters. Try. Hadn’t she tried enough?

Cassian shrugged. ‘I’m just saying they’re used to their females being meek and looking at the ground rather than staring directly in their eyes. You don’t have to be their friends, just be a bit nicer and don’t take everything they say as an insult.’

That familiar flare of her nostrils came as her knife sliced through a tomato for dinner. ‘I’m sorry aren’t these the same males you said you wished you could push off a cliff?’

‘That was last week. Now, we are in Illyria playing peacemakers so be nice.’

‘I was nice to somebody once who didn’t deserve it. Never again, Cassian.’

The grating tone of her voice had Cassian pausing from peeling cloves of garlic. He glanced sidelong at her, worry furrowing his dark brow.

‘Who?’

Nesta pushed the tomatoes to the edge of the chopping board then attacked the onion with more force than it warranted. ‘Are you asking me for a list of people that I’ve ever been nice to?’

‘No. I’m asking who has made you clench that knife so hard that your knuckles are white.’

Suddenly, Cassian wasn’t her mate anymore. They weren’t in an isolated cabin in Illyria with only the wild, rugged nature for company. She was a mortal receiving a faerie general in her bedroom, waiting expectantly for a letter from her estranged sister. Cassian had crossed the room that day and she had dared to brush her body against his, to press her hand against his chest. Then the memory of Tomas had threatened to drown her and Cassian – somehow – had recognised that brief moment of blind fear. He had held her wrist to his body, demanding to know who had caused that terror to flare behind her eyes. Cassian hadn’t even known her then. But he’d have found Tomas and made him pay.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she declared, releasing the knife and leaving Cassian to prepare a dinner alone.

It took Cassian all of three minutes to follow her up the stairs, move her away from the dresser, and sit her on the edge of the bed. It groaned under his heavy weight as he settled beside her.

‘We’ve had this conversation many times, Nes. You need to open the door, not shut me out.’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Because you know more about my five hundred years than I know about your twenty.’ His knuckles grazed her cheek. ‘Were you talking about Rhys?’

‘My life doesn’t resolve around Rhysand.’

She tried to stand, but Cassian slunk his arm around her waist, pinning her. ‘Tell me.’

‘It was my fault,’ she said, voice as brittle as she felt. ‘I was nice to him. And look where it got me.’

‘Who?’

She forced a breath out from between her pursed lips. It was a wound she’d avoided looking at, even when it ached and pulsed.

‘Why do you still hide from me? You’ve been my mate for a year. Why do you think I won’t support you?’

Nesta couldn’t look at the kindness in his eyes. She still struggled with these declarations because Cassian was always genuine. He would always give rather than take. Her fingers edged closer to his then tangled with them.

‘A boy from the village. There were no options for girls like us – poor girls with no dowry. I was beautiful and untouched but that was all I had to offer. Tomas was poor too. Not as bad as we were, but not rich by any means – not like Graysen. Feyre warned me off of him but then she left.’

Then it fell to Nesta to figure out a way to feed her and Elain’s starving bellies. If she had known that Tamlin would have sent a treasury of gems and jewels, Nesta never would have been nice to Tomas.

‘He hunted like Feyre in the woods. After she’d gone, he caught up with me once and offered to walk me home. I would have said no. I never let boys walk me home. But he had two pheasants hanging in his hand and we were starving. So I was nice to him. I smiled at everything he said, batted my eyelashes when he complimented me, and told him at the end I’d hope to see him again.’ Nesta let out a low laugh. ‘The next day, he brought me a dead pheasant. What a catch.’

Cassian shrugged his shoulders. ‘You did what you needed to so that you were both fed. It’s not the end of the world.’

‘Tomas continued to court me - small walks so I wouldn’t be sequestered in that awful cottage with my father. His mother was often bruised, but I hoped that Tomas was not like his father. If I married him and left then maybe father would do something to feed his precious Elain and I would have a husband to take care of me. But Tomas could speak cruelly about other villagers. He would laugh at the elderly when they struggled, would sneer at the poorest children. I don’t know if he thought it would impress me.’

The walks became insufferable. She began to dread the knock at the door. Any other man would have spoken to her father to gain his permission, would have been polite, would have ensured they had an escort. Any decent or proper man would have.

The more time that they spent in each other’s company, the more Nesta despised him. She had to listen to his insufferable arrogance in exchange for a lump of stringy meat. Had to listen to him talk about the other girls in the village as if he was comparing cattle. It became apparent that, rather than being his father’s opposite, he was moulding Tomas into something worse than him.

Then he had tried to kiss Nesta.

He’d grabbed her suddenly at the edge of the narrow path leading to their cottage.

It had happened so quickly that Nesta barely had enough time to swoop her head upwards. Tomas’ lips had clattered against her jaw. The flush on her face had not been from modesty but sheer mortification that Tomas would dare to grab her like a possession and stake a claim on her without proper courting or permission. Nesta had feigned shyness, but had seethed that night in bed beside Elain. She had barely slept through anger.

‘I was nice to him, Cassian, and do you know what he did?’  

Nesta remembered her mother’s teachings. Always smile and agree with what the men say. Never show anger because a man can always match it and then some. Be palatable. Be agreeable. Be nothing at all - except his.

In the square, where it was quiet but visible, Nesta spoke clearly to Tomas that day. She no longer wanted to spend time with him. There was no dowry to be offered therefore no marriage to occur. It was unfair of her to take his time when a future was impossible. It was the nicest way she could think of that wouldn’t invoke anger. What Nesta had wanted to say was that he was arrogant and rude, and any woman that was forced to spend another moment in his company had likely been cursed. Tomas had taken it well. He’d agreed, dipped his chin and agreed. In fact, when Nesta looked back, it had been too agreeable. Too unlike Tomas Mandray.

He'd emerged that afternoon from the woods like a beast. Nesta had jumped out of her skin. But she had seen the anger in his eyes.

‘Our cottage veered off from the others. It was isolated from anybody else. Tomas knew that.’

Cassian’s fists clenched.

‘Tomas called me a stupid slut who deserved everything I got for leading him on then he dragged me into the forest.’

When they’d been in the war and she’d first heard the healers ripping cloth for bandages, her heart had felt like it was caving in as she remembered the way Tomas’ hands had clawed at her dress, tearing the ribbons clean off and splitting the gown at its seams. It had exposed her chest and the worn chemise below.

‘I managed to get away from him. I wasn’t nice then.’

Only blind terror had helped her navigate that situation. Negotiation was not an option. No niceness would have got her through it. Nesta had scratched and kicked even as Tomas pressed her against tree roots. He bruised the inside of her thighs trying to pin her with his knees. When her forehead made contact with his nose, the sudden burst of his blood on her face gave them pause. It was enough for Nesta to raise her knee with enough force to have him double over, wheezing. She’d run home, blood on her ruined gown. Elain was out. Father paid her no attention even as she threw the gown on the fire. They only had five dresses between them but that one needed to burn.

Nesta massaged her face. ‘I will not be nice to males anymore to please them. I will not be nice because it makes their lives easier if I am. Because the last time I was nice to a boy, look what happened. If I hadn’t been nice then I never would have put myself in that silly situation. I should have known better.’

Like a petal in the sun, Cassian unfurled his fingers from the fists they’d been balled into. Gently, he took both of her hands. The warmth of his skin was always welcome. Always comforting.

‘Nes, none of that was your fault. It was all him. Don’t ever blame yourself for somebody else’s actions. It’s easy to wish you’d done things different with hindsight. You could have been horrid to him and he still might have done it. It wasn’t your niceness that made him do that. He did it because he’s an animal.’ Cassian leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. ‘Now tell me where I can find him because I’d like to peel every inch of skin from his bones.’

When Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she sunk into her mate’s embrace. These arms were home. She wouldn’t tell him where Tomas could be found because nobody deserved the sort of pain that Cassian’s eyes promised.

‘I’m sorry that I asked you to be nicer to the males. It’s not on you to change to suit them.’

Nesta nodded in agreement. She was nice, when she wanted to be, to those who deserved it. Not males who wanted to keep her submissive.

‘I’m sorry that you had to go through that as a mortal. You should never have had to experience these things, Nes. I promise, as your mate and a bastard-born lesser fae, to always protect you. And I’ll never ask you to be nice again.’  

‘Thank you.’

‘And to show you how nice I can be, read your book. I’ll cook.’

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FAQ

[stargirlfeyre]

If Tamlin deserves a redemption arc then personally I think Tomas Mandray deserves one too. I mean he was dealing with an abusive home life and who knows what else? He deserves some empathy for that.

[wishcamper]

Okay I’m working on a new Prythian University post and somehow every ACOTAR character I look at has a father wound. Even the ones who have a mother wound also have a father wound. I’m trying to find one who doesn’t. One. One!! I can’t find one!! Amren? Did Tarquin like his dad? Helion? Help!

[munchkinchild]

Okay, since we're once again playing the "Nesta has to apologise for every single thing she's ever done wrong in her life" game, I thought I'd make a list of nearly everything Feyre has apologise for when it comes to Nesta;

- I'm sorry for insulting the way you looked when you were born saying you had a sneer on your face when I literally didn't exist.

"She wasn’t like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for cooking for us every night since Elain and I didn't know how to.

"We dined on roasted venison that night." ACOTAR CH.2

"Heat. I can't cook" ACOMAF CH.54 (Proof that she can't cook)

- I'm sorry for insinuating that you are a horrible person and that our mother realised that on her death bed.

"Or maybe impending death had given her some clarity about the true nature of her children, her husband." ACOTAR CH. 1

- I'm sorry for judging you for trying to befriend the village people because your old friends ignore you.

"Since we had lost our fortune, their former friends dutifully ignored them, so my sisters paraded about as though the young peasants of the town made up a second-rate social circle." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for making fun of you, telling you you can't and calling you a burden for wanting to marry an abuser to help the family when I literally said a few paragraphs before how much I was looking forward to you and Elain leaving so I could be alone.

"Sometimes I would even indulge in envisioning a day when my sisters were married and it was only me and Father, with enough food to go around, enough money to buy some paint, and enough time to put those colors and shapes down on paper or canvas or the cottage walls." ACOTAR CH.1

“Believe me,” I said to her, “the day you want to marry someone worthy, I’ll march up to his house and hand you over. But you’re not going to marry Tomas.” ACOTAR CH.2

"If Nesta wanted to leave, then fine. Good. I’d be one step closer to attaining that glorious, peaceful future, to attaining a quiet house and enough food and time to paint." ACOTAR CH.2

"While Tomas might want to marry you … you’re a burden.” ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for caring about my safety with the mercenary after you had been robbed.

“They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.” ACOTAR CH. 3

//“Some other one who passed through. We had only a few coins, and he got mad, but—”

“Why didn’t you report him—or tell me?”

“What could you have done?” Nesta sneered. “Challenged him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?”

“What about your Tomas Mandray?” I said coolly."// ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for pushing you away when you showed concern for me sleeping with Isaac.

“I do hope you two are taking precautions.”

“It’s a bit late to pretend to care,” I said." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for complaining about not being included when all I do is exclude myself and judge what you bought with the tiny amount of money I gave you.

"I watched my sisters whispering and laughing together. They’d spent every copper I’d given them—on what, I didn’t know, though Elain had brought back a new chisel for our father’s wood carving." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for almost scolding you for not being able to afford new boots and a cloak when I literally judged you for wanting a new one

"The cloak and boots they’d whined about the night before had been too expensive. But I hadn’t scolded them for it, not when Nesta went out a second time to chop more wood without my asking." ACOTAR CH. 3

-I'm sorry for saying you wouldn't protect me and then in the same sentence say that I know it's because you know that I can fight my own battles.

"I knew—with a sudden, uncoiling clarity—that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not my father, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles." ACOTAR CH. 4

- I'm sorry for saying that you were probably happy that I was gone and hoping I had been eaten so you could get attention when you were literally hiking alone trying to cross the wall to find me and save me.

"Nesta must be stretching her legs and smiling at the extra room. She was probably content imagining me in the belly of a faerie—probably using the news as a chance to be fussed over by the villagers." ACOTAR CH. 7

- I'm sorry for trying to put blame on you when you were telling me how you think our father forgets that he literally neglected all of us.

“There are days,” Nesta said as she paused in front of the door to her room, across from mine, “when I want to ask him if he remembers the years he almost let us starve to death.”

“You spent every copper I could get, too,” I reminded her." ACOTAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for blaming you for not teaching me how to read and write when that was never your responsibility, I never told you and I should've been able to do that because I was 8 when we lost our fortune. I'm also sorry for assuming that your level of reading would be better than mine since I admitted that our mother neglected our schooling.

"Before our downfall, my mother had sorely neglected our education, not bothering to hire a governess. And after poverty struck and my elder sisters, who could read and write, deemed the village school beneath us, they didn’t bother to teach me. I could read enough to function—enough to form my letters, but so poorly that even signing my name was mortifying." ACOTAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for telling Ianthe everything about you, including where you lived, which ended in her being able to kidnap you and force you into the cauldron.

"I’d told her about the village, and the house my sisters now lived in, about Isaac Hale and Tomas Mandray. I hadn’t been able to mention Clare Beddor—or what had happened to her family." ACOMAF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for telling the IC that you only cared about money and social standing.

“I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who only cared about their money and social standing." ACOMAF CH. 16

- I'm sorry for telling Rhys that I would make you and Elain help the fae with their problems and even consider asking Rhys to force you to help the fae.

//"They might not be happy about it, but I’ll make Elain and Nesta do it.”

"I didn’t have the nerve to ask Rhys if he could simply force my family to agree to help us if they refused. I wondered if his powers would work on Nesta when even Tamlin’s glamour had failed against her steel mind."// ACOMAF CH. 19

- I'm sorry for showing up unannounced to the house with a group of dangerous men and immediately expecting you to be okay with it.

Chapter 23 of ACOMAF ~ it's too long to post.

- I'm sorry for leaving you both to clean up after I'd insulted the food and let complete strangers openly judge you.

//“Is there something wrong with our food?” she said flatly.

I made myself take another bite, each movement of my jaw an effort. “No.” I swallowed and gulped down a healthy drink of water.

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore—or are you too good for it?” A question and a challenge.

Rhys’s fork clanked on his plate. Elain made a small, distressed noise.

And though Nesta had let me use this house, though she’d tried to cross the wall for me and we’d worked out a tentative truce, the tone, the disgust and disapproval …

I laid my hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”// ACOMAF CH. 24

//"Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely."// ACOMAF CH. 24

"My sisters cleaned the dishes while we worked, and had excused themselves to bed hours before, mentioning where to find our rooms." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for calling you a creature after Rhys insulted you and saying it's the kindest thing I could say about you.

“Nesta is a delight, by the way.”

“She’s … her own creature,” I said. It was perhaps the kindest thing I could say about her." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for not standing up for you when Rhys claimed that only Elain cares about me and that it's your fault for not protecting me.

"Rhys didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I didn’t think I could get through that dinner.”

“What do you mean?” He’d been rather … calm. Contained.

“Your sisters mean well, or one of them does. But seeing them, sitting at that table … I hadn’t realized it would hit me as strongly. How young you were. How they didn’t protect you.”

“I managed just fine.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for saying that you let me go into the woods when you aren't my mother or responsible for me.

“But if I hadn’t gone into those woods, if they hadn’t let me go out there alone …" ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for allowing Rhys to say he can't look at you without wanting to roar at you when he doesn't know a single thing about you.

“but it will be a long while yet before I can look at your sisters without wanting to roar at them.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for comparing the anger I felt about Eris and the nail in Mor to Rhys hating you for your "failings"

"And I understood—why Rhys could not endure Nesta for more than a few moments, why he could not let go of that anger where her failings were concerned, even if I had." ACOMAF CH. 41

- I'm sorry for forcing you to help in a war you had no original part in and for telling Rhys I would make our desperation obvious so they're manipulated into helping.

//"Let me figure out how to deal with both of them, as family, but mostly as their High Lady.

Mor’s face tightened, but I shook my head. “I can—ask my sisters. See if they have any sort of power. See if they’d be willing to … talk to others about what they endured. But I won’t force them to help, if they do not wish to participate. The choice will be theirs.” I glanced at my mate—the male who had always presented me with a choice not as a gift, but as my own gods-given right. Rhys’s violet eyes flickered in acknowledgment. “But I’ll make our … desperation clear.”// ACOWAR CH. 16

- I'm sorry for repeatedly asking you to tell complete strangers what happened to you in the cauldron after you had said no several times and I'm sorry for trying to abuse my power as High Lady to manipulate you into telling your story

//“And we might need your assistance during the meeting with the High Lords—to provide testimony to other courts and allies of what Hybern is capable of. What was done to you.”

“No.”

“You don’t mind fixing the wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is where you draw your line?”

Nesta’s mouth tightened. “No.”

High Lady or sister; sister or High Lady … “People’s lives might depend on your account of it. The success of this meeting with the High Lords might depend upon it.”

She gripped the arms of her chair, as if restraining herself. “Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no.”

I angled my head. “I understand that what happened to you was horrible—”

“You have no idea what it was or was not. None. And I am not going to grovel like one of those Children of the Blessed, begging High Fae who would have gladly killed me as a mortal to help us. I’m not going to tell them that story—my story.”

“The High Lords might not believe our account, which makes you a valuable witness—”

Nesta shoved her chair back, chucking her napkin on her plate, gravy soaking through the fine linen. “Then it is not my problem if you’re unreliable. I’ll help you with the wall, but I am not going to whore my story around to everyone on your behalf.”// ACOWAR CH. 18

- I'm sorry for trying to force you to train when you said multiple times you didn't want to.

"But then I said, “Why won’t you train with Cassian?”

Nesta’s spine locked up. “Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?”

“Azriel?”

“Him, or the blond one who won’t shut up.”

“If you’re referring to Mor—”

“And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.”

“It could make you strong—”

“There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.” ACOWAR CH. 24

- I'm sorry for telling you off for not being respectful to the healer when you were rightfully annoyed that no one was helping Elain, accusing you of barking at them and snapping at you to "be quiet" when you were worried.

//“How.” The word was barely more than a barked command.

I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

The healer’s tone made my sister stiffen, but Madja was already hobbling for the front door. She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.” Then she was gone.

I whirled on Nesta. “A little respect, Nesta—”

“Call another healer.”

“Not if you’re going to bark them out of the house.”

“Call another healer.”

I caught Lucien’s eye. “Would you try it?”

Nesta snarled, “Don’t you even attempt—”

“Be quiet,” I snapped.

Nesta blinked.

I bared my teeth at her. “He will try. And if he doesn’t find anything amiss, we’ll consider bringing another healer.”// ACOWAR CH. 28

- I'm sorry for winnowing away when we were going somewhere together, leaving you with a man you felt uncomfortable around and calling me doing that "sisterly payback" because you're attitude was not what I wanted it to be.

"Ready for some flying, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

I chose that moment to winnow to the skies above the House, chuckling as wind carried me through the world. Some sisterly payback, I supposed. For Nesta’s general attitude." ACOWAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for not believing you when you told me that we weren't safe, telling you that because the others don't think anything is wrong, it's all fine.

“We need to leave,” Nesta said. “Right now.”

Every sense went on alert. “Why?”

“It feels wrong. Something feels wrong.”

I studied her, the clear sky beyond the towering, drape-framed windows. “Rhys and the others would sense it. You’re likely just picking up on all the power gathered here.”

“Something is wrong,” Nesta insisted.

“I’m not doubting you feel that way but … If none of the others are picking it up—” ACOWAR CH. 47

- I'm sorry for telling you that I would build a shower for you after you told me you can't take baths anymore and then never doing anything.

Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.”

I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water …

I knew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.” ACOWAR CH. 52

- I'm sorry for judging where you spend your time.

"Nesta shrugged. “She could have eaten with me here.”

“You know Elain wouldn’t feel comfortable in a place like this.”

She arched a well-groomed brow. “A place like this? What sort of place is that?” ACOFAS CH. 13

- I'm sorry for forcing you to come to a religious holiday you don't celebrate and judging the place you want to celebrate in. And then trying to use our father's death as a way to guilt you into coming.

//"Finally, my sister looked back at me. “So you’re bribing me, then?”

I didn’t flinch. “I’m seeing if you’re willing to be reasoned with. If there’s a way to make it worth your while.”

Nesta planted the tip of her pointer finger atop her stack of cards and fanned them out across the table. “It’s not even our holiday. We don’t have holidays.”

“Perhaps you should try it. You might enjoy yourself.”

“As I told Elain: you have your lives, and I have mine.”

Again, I cast a pointed glance to the tavern. “Why? Why this insistence on distancing yourself?”

She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Why do I have to be a part of your merry little band?”

“You’re my sister.”

Again, that empty, cold look.

I waited.

“I’m not going to your party,” she said."//

//“Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”// ACOWAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for withholding your rent unless you came to an event you didn't feel comfortable coming to and then when you came, ignoring you and being insulted you didn't get me a gift when I didn't get you one.

//She swigged from her glass. “It’s due next week. In case you forgot.”

I said flatly, “Come to Solstice and I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”// ACOFAS CH. 13

//"It occurred to me only when she said the words that none of the gifts in this room had Nesta’s name on them."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nothing from Nesta, but I didn’t care. Not one bit."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nesta watched warily from her chair, Elain’s present—her only present—in her lap."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//“Here.”

Nesta half turned toward me, focus darting to what was in my hand. The small slip of paper.

The banker’s note for her rent. And then some.

“As promised,” I said.

For a moment, I prayed she wouldn’t take it. That she would tell me to tear it up."// ACOFAS CH. 20

- I'm sorry for not saying anything when Amren openly slut shamed you.

“Though I bet it’s hard to look good,” Amren went on, “when you’re out until the darkest hours of the night, drinking yourself stupid and fucking anything that comes your way.”

Feyre whipped her head to the High Lord’s Second. Rhys seemed inclined to agree with Amren. ACOSF CH. 1

-I'm sorry for telling you that you embarrassed "my family" when you're my sister.

Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends—my family—had to hear all about it?”

Nesta hated that word. The term Feyre used to describe her court. As if things had been so miserable with the Archeron family that Feyre had needed to find another one." ACOSF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for painting everyone but you and then only painting you when I decided that you had earned it.

//"Every piece of art had been picked by Feyre herself, or painted by her, many of them portraits and depictions of them—her friends, her … new family.

There were none of Nesta, naturally.// ACOSF CH. 1

//"She’d joined them at the river house one night to find a mating present from Feyre waiting for her. Hanging on the wall in the grand entry.

A portrait of Nesta, holding the line at the Pass of Enalius."// ACOSF CH. 80

-I'm sorry for telling you that I would tie you up and force you to go to the House of Wind when I myself should know what it feels like to be locked up against my will.

"You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there." ACOSF CH. 2

I can go on...

[ladydeatharcheron]

Nesta's trauma

Saw a comment saying "Feyre died, Rhys was raped, Az was set on fire, Amren was in a prison, Mor was beaten and used like a pin board and Nesta became poor in her youth lol"

Let's review the things Nesta went through for the illiterate ones who jump at any chance to dismiss a woman's trauma, shall we?

had her palms beaten raw by her grandmother at the age of seven for missteps in her dancing lessons

groomed by her mother as a child to seduce elder men and was led to believe she was only as worthy as the title she married

was almost raped by Tomas Mandray and physically assaulted when she attempted to fight back.

neglected by her father, the man who was supposed to take care of them and bring food to the table

was put in a position where she wanted to starve to death just so her father would get up and provide for them

was shoved into the cauldron against her will (which she described as having molten ore poured into her veins and her human blood boiling) had her bodily autonomy stripped from her, and died as a human

watched her father's neck being snapped right after he told her he loved her

she became depressed and reclusive, "feeling nothing" after the war ended

she couldn't take baths from her trauma of the cauldron, she had to wash herself using buckets

she couldn't endure small spaces due to the cauldron

had to endure the cold in her apartment because the sound of cracking logs reminded her of her father's neck being snapped

was locked up in the HoW because men once again think they know what's best for women against her will

was SAed by the kelpie, monsters known for raping women before they eat them

Hope this helps! Read carefully next time :)

[lady-selenee]

A lot of people keep blaming Nesta for neglecting Feyre (as if they were three abandoned children with no father) (and it was Feyre's choice to go hunting, Nesta didn't force her), even if we're clearly shown that their relationship mends when Feyre returns from Spring in Acotar and when she leaves to save Tamlin.

Feyre finds out that Nesta, the sister she thought hated her, was ready to go to Prythian, a place about which they've been told over and over that nothing else but death awaits them.

Feyre acknowledges that their father wouldn't have gone to save her. But that Nesta actually tried.

My hateful, cold sister had been willing to brave Prythian to rescue me.

We know now that Nesta didn't tell Feyre everything that happened with Tomas Mandray. But we know that he tried to assault her after she broke up with him because she realised that, and I quote, he wouldn't have gone with me to save you from Prythian. This is the reason she broke off with him, he tried to assault her after.

Nesta tells Feyre not to come back, to live her happy life in Prythian with the one she loves. She technically tells Feyre that she doesn't have to torture herself anymore for not being able to keep the promise their mother (although, she did keep that promise in the first book because Tamlin had ensured their care).

Look at this final piece of dialogue and Feyre's thoughts. There is no malevolence remaining between them.

And people still say that Nesta is guilty for the fact that Feyre chose to go hunting, completely ignoring the fault of the adult who lived with them, their own father.

[ae-neon]

Clare - Now that you’ve given up all your foolish artistic hopes, what are you going to do with your life?

Nesta - Polish up my other talents and be an ornament to society.

Clare - Here is where Tomas Mandray comes in, I suppose.

Nesta - Don’t make fun!

Clare (laughing) - I’m not!

...

Clare - You are not engaged, I hope?

Nesta - No...

Clare - But you will be, if he goes down properly on one knee?

Nesta - Most likely, yes.

Little Women (2019)

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. It hadn't. Nesta was, for all her misfortune, still a beautiful and fairly accomplished woman.

She was more than he deserved.

And, they had both had spent their whole lives being shaped for this single purpose: to wed and wed well.

It had not come as a surprise at all.

So why then did it feel as if her chest had been hollowed? As if the earth below had fallen away and taken all she loved with it?

[gwandas]

Sorry this was Clare Beddor and Tomas Mandray erasure. That woman so obviously gave up on this series after book 1 lmfao

it’s so funny to me how ToG and CC have like a million POVs and random side characters you need to keep track of and there’s ACOTAR. A series that refuses to give names to characters that have literally appeared in MULTIPLE books.

[spore-loser]

・day two ・mask  ( veneer ) @nestaarcheronweek

wearing a mask was not something new to her; it was a figurative feature long before the physical one she found and donned. as a girl, her first mask had been slipped on out of instinct and it was never removed. the bitter truths had always been kept to herself. suffering in silence was second nature and so nobody knew she suffered at all. neither sisters by blood nor sisters by choice knew about the woman her grandmother had been behind closed doors—knew about the cold ambition behind the hand that shaped her into regality. they didn't know of the other's hand who tried to control her, who had tried to force what he wanted from her. tomas mandray was known only as a coward to the archerons, and known not at all by the valkyries. maybe one day she would tell them... but not today and not tomorrow.

[theladyofbloodshed]

A little one shot for Day 4 - Lover of @nestaarcheronweek (and for @midnightmasterpiece)

‘Foul.’

‘Lovely cheekbones.’

Nesta arched a brow. ‘Foul.’

Beneath a willow tree with long branches that swept the grass, Clare Beddor flopped onto her back in a fit of giggles. Nesta joined her on her back, fingers lacing, as their attention strayed from the man who had been walking along the bank of the shallow river.

‘The worst part about living amongst such foul men is that one day we will have to marry one of them,’ she said.

Clare gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Not me.’

‘Oh?’

‘I shall be a spinster for the rest of my days. I shall live in our cottage with only spiders and rats for company. Children shall fear me. They will whisper of the witch of Wittsturm.’

Nesta rolled onto her side and propped her head up on a bent elbow. ‘And what am I to do without you?’

Her friend reached out to touch her face. ‘Well, you will be with me of course.’

‘To sweep the cobwebs and fluff your pillow?’

‘Yes, yes, you will have many uses.’

Although Nesta loved her sisters, they stepped on each others’ toes. They snapped and argued, their misery competing. It was only with Clare that Nesta could let go of the reins and be a girl again. They were women, she supposed. If they were not so poor, they’d have been wed already. Clare’s family, like her own, did not have two coppers to rub together. Of all the village, Clare was her only friend.

‘A fine future we shall have, Miss Beddor.’

Her friend gave her a sly look. ‘I would call you Miss Archeron, but if Wittsturm gossip is to be believed, you shall be Mrs Mandray soon.’

Her stomach gave a flutter then a churn at the surname. Tomas was handsome in a rugged, unkempt way. Nesta could overlook his broken front tooth and unruly hair, she supposed. There were no suitors lining up for her or her sisters otherwise. Tomas had a mean streak about him. He was competitive and gambled on cock fights, which she hated for their barbarity. But his family did not struggle as others did. They were far from rich, far from comfortable even, but that same endless hunger didn’t exist in Tomas’ eyes. It would not be a match of love, nor one of true choice. Tomas was a means to an end. If Nesta became his problem, it was one less mouth to feed for her own family.

‘I know nothing about that,’ she replied coyly.

‘Keep your secrets then. But you aren’t rolling around in the hay with him like your sister and Isaac, are you?’

‘No.’

Nesta had made no secret of her embarrassment over Feyre’s actions. They had lost all of the money, not their morals. If their fortunes changed, Feyre’s reputation would be ruined. Neither of them talked about the situation a great deal – only that Feyre assured her Isaac took a tea himself to prevent unwanted children.

They followed the river beneath a blazing sun. Clare had pushed her sleeves up to bare her arms and even hiked up her skirts although Nesta couldn’t do the same despite the blistering heat. She could feel the skin of her face growing tight from the sun and she’d find little freckles erupting over the bridge of her nose when she returned home.

‘We are getting close to the forest,’ she warned.

Clare broke free of her hold to walk backwards so that they were face to face. Her dark red hair was bound in a bun but her curls were never easily tamed. She appeared all the more wilder for it. ‘Perhaps a handsome faerie will steal us away to a land where we will dance beneath the moonlight and drink faerie wine until we are dizzy.’

‘I can think of nothing worse.’

‘I can,’ she countered. ‘You marrying Tomas Mandray.’

‘Hush now. Enough about that boy. I don’t want to hear it today.’

At her tone, Clare stilled. She closed the gap between them and tenderly stroked Nesta’s face. ‘If I was a boy, I would marry you. I’d never force you to cook or clean or do anything for me.’

The confession, although in jest, made Nesta’s cheeks heat. In lieu of a reply, she took Clare’s arm again and led her along a rarely-trodden path that ran beside a stream.

It wasn’t easy for girls in their village. Clare had never had money. She couldn’t read or write, but that did not mean she was not clever. Her own ambitions went beyond the village, but such privileges weren’t afforded to them. Nesta clutched her history like a crutch. She couldn’t let loose the way Clare could. Strong convictions and societal expectations kept her pressed into a box that none would open anymore. It was silly really. In her heart, Nesta knew they would never live the life they had previously – one of opulence and fortune – yet to admit it felt like a defeat. It was better to be in denial.

They stopped at a small, shallow lake. The waters appeared green but clear enough to see the fish.

‘John, the miller’s boy, comes here to fish. He showed me it once,’ said Clare. She gave a Nesta a grin, ‘In between showing him my knickers.’

‘Clare Beddor, you wicked girl.’

Her friend laughed wildly then began removing her dress.

‘What are you doing?’ Nesta hissed.

She did not stop until she stood only in a threadbare chemise that highlighted her lean body.

‘It is too warm. Nobody comes here.’

‘Except for John, apparently.’

Clare was already wading into the water, despite Nesta’s protests.

‘Perhaps he will come and hook me on the line,’ she said, offering Nesta another sharp-toothed smile.

‘If it’s not enough to be the witch of Wittsturm, you want to be the mermaid of the lake too, is that it?’

Clare tittered out a laugh then tipped onto her back so she floated upon the surface. She watched on enviously as the sun beat down upon her pale scalp. The heat was making Nesta sticky. Her thick, home-spun gown was good for winter, but no good at all for summer.

‘The water is delightful.’

Against better judgement, Nesta quickly shed her clothes and made a dash for the bank of the lake. The water was cold but not unbearable. In fact, it was a relief to cool her skin. She waded in as far as her thighs then hesitated. Her eyes scanned the circumference of the lake where trees dotted the edges as if she might see a face staring back at them, watching on with sick perversion. There was none, no fisherman or faerie.

The water made her gasp as Nesta jumped as deep as her neck then swam the distance to Clare.

‘This is a little piece of paradise, just for us,’ her friend purred.

Clare used her arms to paddle to Nesta, whilst still floating on her back. It was an instinct for Nesta to cradle her friend in the water, to hold her body while Clare’s eyes closed.

‘We should run away,’ her friend murmured. ‘Just you and I. We can keep each other safe.’

It was not the first time that she had suggested such a thing, but she failed to imagine the practicality of such a decision. Nesta knew that if she left then Tomas would go for Elain next. He had made no secret of telling her that Elain was fairer than her, kinder too, as if to goad Nesta to prove her worth.

Clare moved out of her arms then they were standing opposite each other, the soft, silty lake bed beneath their bare toes.

‘You are the most beautiful woman in this village,’ said Clare.

Her hand moved to Nesta’s neck, cold fingers making her shiver. Clare took a step closer, her other hand going to Nesta’s ribs to stabilise them in the water.

She closed her eyes as Clare’s lips sought her own. It was soft and gentle and more special than anything Nesta had ever had in her life. A secret she would treasure.

A press of Clare’s tongue had Nesta’s lips parting. She found her rhythm too, hands reaching for Clare to roam over her back, over the hard planes of her hips and ribs. Their noses knocked together as their kiss deepened.

And just as Nesta almost lost herself in it, Clare pulled away. A blush dusted her thin cheeks then she was giggling again. She fell backwards into the water, so that it splashed around them.

‘There, now I can say that I am the only person in the village who has kissed Nesta Archeron.’

[highprincessofthenightcourt]

Something I really love about Elain and Azriel is how they break the mold of what we’ve come to expect from acotar’s love stories. Fate and destiny are often at the heart of these romances—mating bonds, prophecies, signs—all intricately woven into the lives of the characters. But with Elain and Azriel, their connection feels different. It’s something they choose.

Elain seems to be trapped by fate. She didn’t choose to become High Fae, to become a seer, or to be tied to a male she doesn’t want. Her life has been shaped by decisions made for her, leaving her caught in a heartbreaking place where even her destiny doesn’t feel like her own. She’s been seen as fragile, as someone in need of protection. Her softness had always been mistaken for weakness. But Azriel? He saw her differently. He gave her his blade—not out of pity, but because he knew she was capable of wielding it. He trusted her strength in a way no one else ever had. Where others saw fragility, he saw resilience waiting to bloom. Where others tried to shield her from the world, he believed she could face it herself. And in doing so, he gave her something precious: a chance to decide what she does.

Azriel, on the other hand, seems to exists outside of destiny. He’s never had a mate. He wasn’t truly accepted among the Illyrians. Even his wings were denied to him far longer than normal. He’s spent his life feeling undeserving, shaped by a darkness he didn’t choose and forced into a role the world defined for him. Yet that darkness was never who he is—it’s where he’s had to survive. And maybe that’s why Elain is so important. She doesn’t let the world’s perception of him shape her view. She simply sees him. Elain sees the kindness, the vulnerability, the quiet strength he hides from the world. She sees someone worthy of love and belonging, not despite his scars but because of them. Her acceptance becomes his healing. She doesn’t try to fix him or ask him to change. She walks beside him, light and dark, and in doing so, gives him a rare gift: a sense of peace and worth in his own skin.

These characters always learn through their relationships. They experience love that isn’t quite right—love that teaches them who they are and what they need. Feyre had Isaac Hale and Tamlin, before Rhysand. Nesta had Tomas Mandray and Eris, before Cassian. Elain had Graysen, who couldn’t love her as she was, and now Lucien, whose bond feels more like a chain than a choice. The pattern is clear, these characters inevitably turn toward the person who’s been quietly there all along.

For Elain, who’s never had a choice, and for Azriel, who’s never been chosen—perhaps their love is more valuable than destiny. Because it was not forced upon them, but because they choose it.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe fate isn’t something dictated by a magical cauldron. Maybe fate is two people deciding to love each other, even when all odds are against them. And to me, that’s one of the most beautiful stories of all.

[kale-theteaqueen]

WIP Word Game

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

Okaaaay I was tagged by @jsmelodies @acourtofladydeath @xxvalkyriesxx and @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk but I'm going with the first word I was given which was DANCE

Feel free to ask about any of these but know some of them haven't been published yet 🤫😉

"Don't go."

Nesta's voice was quiet, but steady. As Cassian looked down at her, he took in the clarity in her eyes. The desire.

In his chest, her anxiety was merely a tiny flicker.

"That is," she said, pursing her lips. "You could stay."

"Stay," he repeated, glancing back at the bed behind her.

Nesta nodded, taking a step backwards towards it.

"Just to sleep. I think... Well, I'd like to try. With you."

With him. How miraculous.

"Alright," he answered immediately. "I'll stay."

---

Azriel watched Nesta as she watched everyone else, tucked right up against his brother's side.

Cassian hadn't said anything. Had refused, practically, to provide any kind of explanation regarding this. Instead, he was content to let her into his space, almost on his lap, their audience he damned. He made nothing of it when her eyes glared menacingly at anyone who simply looked in his direction for too long, the force of her power announcing her presence far more than Rhys' ever had.

Something had happened.

Nesta was different.

And Cassian knew why.

---

Nesta stared down at the letter in her hands, written in script that was far neater than she would ever have expected.

Nesta Mandray

How absurd to be a married woman with an unwed Captain sending her letters. How unequivocally and indesputably wrong.

"Oh!" Elain's voice rang out, causing her to practically jump out of her skin. "Tomas has written you! He must finally be somewhere less dangerous."

Nesta blinked at her sister, both wondering how she could possibly be so naive yet desperate to preserve this charade. And with it, her innocence.

Quickly, she slipped the letter into her dress pocket.

"Yes," she answered. "It's excellent news."

---

Cassian stared down at this female before him -- she who he would recognize if she were nothing but shadows, whose essence he knew in his bones.

But she was not herself. With hair long and loose down her back, dressed simply in a lavender gown, she offered him the polite smile one would offer a stranger, tinged with the type of kindness that exuded from one that was perhaps too trusting. Too innocent. Too unburdened.

There was no stress in her shoulders, no sharpness to her stare, and no ramrod straight spine that had been beaten into her from a decade of strict training.

No, this female was entirely too carefree.

Nesta Archeron may have stood before him in this busy market square, but she was not truly there.

And what devastated him most of all -- what rained down on him like a ton of bricks -- was that she very clearly had no idea who he was."

---

Everyone fucking hates you, Nesta.

The words rang in his ears over and over, reminding him of his crime. Of the way his body had jolted forward in his anger, overcome by the energy of it, his hands gesturing as they so often did when he wanted to make a point.

Of the flinch that rocked her entire body and the moment her mask cracked and he saw true, unbridled terror on her face.

Terror of him.

It was a look he knew with certainly would haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his immortal life.

I'm almost certain everyone has been tagged at this point but if anyone in the world at all wants to play here's a word: DREAM

[nikethestatue]

It's interesting that when Nesta sees Elain and thinks that Elain has found JOY and purpose, has filled out and gotten healthier, has found friends and hobbies--all of that is ignored. Unreliable narrator!

When Cassian thinks that Elain looks bad in a black dress and doesn't belong in Hewn City, that automatically also means that Elain doesn't belong in Night Court and must leave.

And for some reason, the optimal place for her to be wouldn't be with her family, her friends and Azriel, for whom she obviously has great affection, but in the Human Lands with Lucien.

And Jurian.

And GRAYSEN.

Also curious how Nesta, who at the end of ACOSF, has filled out, found friends, a purpose, a love and JOY isn't required to leave Night Court (despite her very testy relationship with its High Lord) and isn't asked to move to the Human Lands and live near Tomas Mandray.

But Elain...

it's never joy and happiness for Elain, is it? It's just how she can accommodate Lucien.

[shadowqueenjude]

I’m astronomically late but this was meant for day 1 of @rhystaappreciationweekend

AU of what if Nesta took Feyre’s place in the bargain:

Nesta gasped and wheezed as they reached the crest of the mountain. She and her companions were soaked in blood, sweat, and rain, and the cold seeped down to their bones. She knew all three of them had likely gotten a fever, but at this moment Nesta couldn’t bring herself to care.

Because at the crest of the hill lay an enormous wall that was falling into disrepair. The border between the human lands and Prythian stood before them.

“We made it,” Nesta croaked. Then she collapsed before the wall.

“They made it through the forest?” came a voice as though from a great distance. Was she in hell?

“Yes,” answered a different voice, this one sounding a bit more polished. “Three human women, two matching the descriptions of Feyre’s sisters. I am not sure who the third girl is, though.”

“It doesn’t matter; she is with Feyre’s sisters, so she must be protected.”

“But it does matter, Tam. Look at her weaponry- she’s been trained to fight the Fae. She must be some kind of guide for these ladies. They came here to save Feyre- likely from you. I believe Feyre has underestimated the depth of their regard for her.”

Probably not hell, then. But it sure felt like it. Nesta’s head felt so heavy, and her eyes glued shut. She couldn’t even muster the energy to open her mouth and speak.

Back to sleep it was, then, until she got more comfortable.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself on a bed so comfortable that Nesta felt like royalty. The mattress was soft yet supportive. The sheets were like satin, and the blankets were so warm that Nesta felt like a baked potato. She gently pulled off the blankets and her jaw dropped as she looked down at herself.

Her clothes were utterly spotless, and definitely not what she was wearing before. She was wearing an elegant green silk empire gown with real pink flowers stitched around the waist. Nesta reached a hand into her hair. No tangles and butter-soft beach waves. How??? She had just been asleep. Shouldn’t there be tangles?

She jumped out of bed, stomping towards the door and flinging it open. She was furious; who had touched her without her consent? Her heart went cold as she remembered Tomas Mandray’s hands on her skin…

By the time her anger dissipated just enough to have the rational thought that it was probably not a good idea to stomp around in the land of the Fae, but by then it was too late: her presence had already been discovered.

“Lady!” a voice cried from the body of a tree. Nesta looked up at her imperiously. “Was this you, tree girl?” she hissed.

The tree held her ground, raising a brow. “You can see my true form? And no, I am not a tree.”

“Of course I can see you,” Nesta snapped. “I am not blind.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she replied coolly. “I am Alis. It is nice to meet you.”

Nesta glared at Alis. She had not answered her question. She placed her hand on her hip and angled her head at her. “Somebody changed me while I was asleep. Who. Did. It?”

Alis didn’t look the least bit impressed. Perhaps she was already accustomed to this attitude from somebody else. “Just the maids. Nobody touched you inappropriately, I promise. We only gave you a clean shower and clothes.”

Nesta sighed in relief. Somehow, she believed Alis. “Where are my friends?”

“They have separate rooms. I can take you to them, if you wish,” Alis said.

“Ok.”

Alis led Nesta through several halls. Nesta was constantly doing double takes as she saw wind spirits scurry through the house. This place was just so weird; she couldn’t say she liked it.

Alis first led her to her sister’s room. Elain was still fast asleep, her hair artfully askew on the pillows. She seemed so peaceful with her face relaxed. She was the princess incarnate.

Nesta clasped her shoulder and shook her. “Elain, wake up,” she whispered.

Her little sister’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked Nesta blearily. “Just a few more minutes,” she mumbled.

“No,” she snapped. “We need to get up. We’re in Prythian.”

That sobered up her sister quickly. She sat up in bed, grabbing her sister’s hand. “But where’s Tiana?”

The mercenary who had bravely taken on the quest to reach Prythian after she and Nesta had already failed once. After Feyre was taken, she became quite close with the Archeron family. Nesta considered her a dear friend and close to a sister.

“The tree woman will take us to her,” Nesta said reassuringly. Elain slid off of the bed, revealing her shiny new dress: a lavender-colored chiffon dress with real hydrangeas all down the skirt. Her hair, a few shades darker than Nesta, was so glossy that it reflected the dimmest of lights. They walked back to Alis, who led them to Tiana, who was wide awake reading a book on the bed.

Nesta raised a brow. Her dark skin lacked sleep circles, suggesting that she had been awake a while. Her midnight hair had been braided and tossed over one shoulder. She wore a flowy black dress with butterfly sleeves and mesh on the shins. She looked like a mystic or a priestess.

“Oh good, you two are awake!” Tiana said enthusiastically. She slammed her book shut and slid off the bed, striding towards them with purpose. “This place is really nice, but I asked around, and your sister is not here.”

That was exactly what Nesta was afraid of. “Is she dead?” she croaked.

Tiana pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head grimly. “Worse.”

Nesta stormed through the house looking for Tamlin, Elain and Tiana hurrying behind her. She was going to have a few words with him when she found him.

At last, she found him holed up in his study, his head in his hands. Seeing him in inaction while knowing that her sister had been taken captive by the man who had assaulted her under the mountain made her see red.

“TAMLIN!” she roared. Instantly, he stood up, on alert. Nesta walked right up to his face and punched him with all the force she could muster. Tamlin did not even flinch, but he did look shocked.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF HER!” Nesta shrieked. She leapt onto him, trying to pull his hair out. Tamlin only grabbed her wrists gently, prying her off of him.

“I’m trying,” he said hoarsely. He sounded broken. “Rhysand has tricked her into a faerie bargain- it’s not easy to break. Lucien has gone to the Day Court to try and figure out a way to break it.”

Nesta could feel hot tears forming in her eyes. “Then I’ll go get her.”

“Are you insane?” Tamlin bellowed. “You have nothing to offer him, and no power to stop him.”

“Tiana has ash blades, and I’m certain it’s not Feyre’s power he’s after. What would he want with a mere human?”

Tamlin scrunched his nose and surveyed her. “You are also a human.” Not an insult, just a fact. But Nesta stared him down anyway.

“A human upon which Faerie glamours have no effect,” she answered.

They stared each other down for several moments before Tamlin sighed. “Feyre will never forgive me if you get hurt.”

Nesta angled her head. “There won’t be a Feyre to forgive you if she remains in this bargain.”

Tamlin slumped in defeat. He knew she was right. Nesta stood there waiting, arms crossed.

“I will take you to the Night Court border,” he said finally. “You’re on your own from there.”

Leaving Elain and Tiana behind, Nesta walked into the realm of the devil incarnate. It didn’t take long after she crossed the border for the High Lord of Night to be alerted to her presence. After mere minutes of walking in crunchy snow, a carriage came up to her claiming to be from the palace. It was utterly ostentatious with its dramatic silk coverings and threadings likely made from real gold, so Nesta climbed inside and awaited the palace of her sister’s captor.

When they reached the palace, Nesta stepped out and gazed at the palace in awe. The whole thing looked utterly sinister: a polished black with several spires coming to a sharp point. It looked like a castle of swords.

She was escorted inside by a broody batman who seemed to be surrounded by black smoke. When he moved to grab her arm, Nesta slapped his hand away.

“I am came here willingly; do you really think I’ll try to escape?” she snapped. The bat male merely blinked his hazel eyes before letting his arm drop to his side. Nesta held her chin up high, trying to memorize where he was taking her instead of focusing on her fear.

Nesta was taken to a throne room, where another batman lounged on the throne, legs hanging over one armrest and crown sitting lopsided on his head. His ears sat on the top of his head, long and furry and triangular. His eyes were completely black except for his violet irises. There were circular markings in bands all over his face, like some tribal symbols. In place of nails were dark talons. And each of his wings were as big as Nesta. He looked ethereal, wicked, terrifying.

“Leave us,” Rhysand commanded his stooge. The other bat guy scurried away instantly. Nesta sneered at Rhysand.

“Where is my sister,” she asked flatly. The High Lord of Night smiled sinisterly. “You do not mince words, do you, Feyre’s sister?”

“Where is she?” she demanded. Rhysand laughed seductively. “Mor, bring her here,” he ordered the woman standing by his right side. She swept out of the room instantly. Rhysand looked her over. “Human girl…you must love your sister a lot if you were willing to come this far.”

Nesta clenched her fists to keep from shaking. She was in the room with a bona fide High Lord, and this one was not so friendly. But she stood her ground; faeries respected power, so she had to act powerful even if she was not.

“It took your sister mere moments to dance for me,” Rhysand purred. “How long until you do the same?”

Nesta saw red at the man’s careless comment. “You caught my sister at her most vulnerable,” she hissed. “I promise that you will not find me in any such position.”

“We will see about that,” he murmured. “Dance for me, Nesta,” he whispered.

And then Nesta felt it, like a probe reaching into her head. In her mind, Nesta began to build iron walls. Brick by brick, she created an impenetrable barrier between her and that invasive force.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped. She pulled out her ash knife, gripping it like a vise.

Rhysand looked surprised for a moment, then intrigued. Then his eyes snagged on her weapon, and he smirked. “What do you think you’re going to do with that?” he inquired.

She tilted her head and placed her other hand on her hip. “Kill you.”

He chortled. “I am much stronger and faster than you, love. What in the world can you do?”

As if to prove his point, in an instant Rhysand charged towards Nesta, punching her forearm. She cried out as her knife went clattering out of her hand.

“You see?” Rhysand said in an erotic whisper. “You are no match for me.”

Nesta spat in his face. A cloud of dust formed over him, and he doubled over, coughing. Tiana’s ash chew had worked, then. While he was distracted, Nesta sprinted towards her knife.

“Do not underestimate me,” she hissed.

Rhysand clapped even while bent over. “Clever. Very clever, young lady…for your wit and courage, I’ll grant you one boon.”

There was only one thing to do. Rhysand would never agree to a bargain if he did not get something out of it, and he was too powerful to kill. So, she cleared her throat and forced out the words she was most terrified to utter.

“I wish to take my sister Feyre’s place in her bargain.”

Through the ash cloud, Nesta saw Rhysand laugh. “Very well, miss Nesta. I accept.”

[hrizantemy]

“Nesta said bad things about Feyre in the cabin and slut-shamed her for being with Isaac Hale.”

• Nesta’s attitude towards Feyre in the cabin was indeed dismissive, but context matters. Nesta was deeply resentful of their father, who abandoned his responsibilities, and she projected that resentment onto Feyre, the youngest sister, who had taken on the family’s burdens.

• Regarding slut-shaming, there is no explicit moment in the text where Nesta shames Feyre for being with Isaac. Any judgment Nesta showed was rooted in her own insecurities, societal expectations, and strained relationship with Feyre, not a moral condemnation of Feyre’s choices.

“Nesta wasn’t helping with house chores and didn’t want to chop wood.”

• While Nesta may have voiced her frustration, it’s explicitly stated in A Court of Thorns and Roses that she did, in fact, chop wood on more than one occasion. Her complaints stemmed from her upbringing in luxury, which made such tasks foreign to her, but she ultimately took on the work when necessary.

• Nesta expressed a willingness to hunt to contribute to the family. This demonstrates that Nesta wasn’t wholly unwilling to help but lacked the capability and was overshadowed by Feyre’s expertise in survival tasks.

• Nesta was willing to sacrifice her own happiness and future to ease Feyre’s burden of providing for the family. She accepted an offer of marriage from Tomas Mandray, not out of love but as a practical solution to their dire circumstances. By marrying Tomas, she intended to remove herself as a financial strain, ensuring Feyre had one less mouth to feed.

“Nesta was entitled and spoiled.”

• Nesta’s “entitlement” stems from how she was raised—she was conditioned to expect a certain life. However, labeling her as merely spoiled ignores her complex character. Nesta showed glimpses of care, such as her attempts to protect Elain from harsh realities and her desire to avenge Feyre when she went to Prythian.

• Post-transformation, Nesta’s behavior (anger, isolation, and lashing out) stems from her trauma rather than entitlement. It’s not a justification but an explanation that deserves compassion.

“Nesta stole money from Feyre to buy clothing.”

• While Elain casually expressed a desire for a new cloak, Nesta identified a genuine need for new boots, as hers were falling apart. This is supported by the scene in A Court of Silver Flames where it’s mentioned that her boots were in poor condition, highlighting her practical decision to replace something essential for her survival rather than indulging in luxury.

• Feyre provided for her family willingly, including essentials like clothing and food. Nesta’s request for boots was not theft but a necessity, given their shared hardship and Feyre’s role as the primary provider. At no point does Nesta take money without Feyre’s knowledge or consent in ACOTAR.

“In real life, Nesta stans wouldn’t want to meet someone like her.”

• This point oversimplifies why people relate to or admire Nesta. Many see her as a flawed, multi-dimensional character who mirrors real struggles with trauma, guilt, and self-worth. While no one is excusing her mistakes, her journey of redemption and growth resonates deeply with those who have experienced similar challenges.

“Justifying Nesta is equivalent to justifying being mean.”

• No one is excusing Nesta’s past behavior or denying that she was mean at times. However, her actions are understood through the lens of her trauma, mental health struggles, and personal growth. Feyre herself forgives Nesta and acknowledges the complexity of her pain.

• To say that acknowledging Nesta’s redemption equates to condoning meanness is reductive and dismisses the importance of character growth, which is central to Nesta’s arc in ACOSF.

Final Thoughts:

• Nesta’s flaws are undeniable, but they make her relatable and human. Instead of painting her as purely “bad,” her story demonstrates that even deeply flawed people can grow, heal, and become better. To dismiss her as merely a narcissistic villain undermines the nuance of her character and her journey.