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#court of nightmares
kataraavatara · 1 month
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dare I dip my toes into acotar fandom discourse….
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serpentandlily · 5 months
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Scared to Be Happier - Azriel x Reader
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Scared to be Happier - Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel finds his mate in the Court of Nightmares and she is whisked away to Velaris to be saved. But when someone spends so long being beaten down and angry, sometimes broken is all they'll ever be.
Warnings: Angst, Smut (minors dni), Drug and Alcohol Usage
a/n: Heavily inspired by the song Happier by Yungblud/Oli Sykes. This one is for all my girlies who self-sabotage and break things because that is all they've ever known, who are scared to be happy because of the fear of the fall when it all gets taken away.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
A pounding on your door pulled you from your thoughts. You let out a sigh as your apartment came back into focus, mirthroot smoke swirling in the air along with the stench of whiskey. You stood from the couch, stretching out your limbs before moving to the door.
You had to kick a few empty wine bottles out of your path, the evidence of last night’s adventures. 
When you pulled open the door, you weren’t surprised to see the shadowsinger standing there. His handsome face was unreadable, his eyes checking over you from head to toe. You smiled, lazily, his face shifting in and out of focus. 
“Azriel,” you greeted. His eyes narrowed on your face. 
You knew what you must look like to him. Kohl smeared under your eyes, hair in disarray, standing there in only your underwear and a large shirt whose owner you were unsure of. 
You stepped back, letting him walk inside and shut the door behind him. 
“You’re high again.”
His voice was deep, husky, as he peered around the mess in your apartment. You shrugged, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. It was the truth. You spent most of your days in a haze. One you sought after through the use of drugs and alcohol. Mirthroot helped numb your mind. The alcohol helped numb your feelings.
“Don’t act like you care,” you said, flatly. “Not now.” 
Azriel let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face you. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that.”
“The truth?”
He stalked towards you, until he was so close you had to tilt your head up to stare at him. His hand raised, his knuckles brushing against your rosy cheeks. “It’s not the truth. And you know it.” 
Your own hand climbed up his chest until it rested right over his heart, the heart that beat in rhythm with yours. 
“I know what you’re here for,” you purred, ignoring his remark. 
This was the game. Azriel would come here, pretend to care, if only long enough for the two of you to fall into bed together. Then you’d wake up and he’d be gone. And you wouldn’t see him again until he felt guilty enough to check-in on you again. After all, he was the reason you were here. 
Azriel rested his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your check. 
“I can’t stay away from you,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry, y/n.”
“You’re not sorry,” you whispered, staring into his hypnotizing hazel eyes. “You enjoy this. You enjoy being around someone as miserable as you. I know you, Azriel. Better than that family of yours does.” 
“You know nothing,” he growled.
But then he surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. Like he always did when the conversation turned more personal. But you met him halfway, also not wanting to talk anymore. Not when the mirthroot kept your head so light. Not when it felt so good to have Azriel’s lips against yours. 
He groaned, pushing you further against the counter, his hips digging into yours. His hand snaked into your hair, pulling your head back so he could deepen the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You needed this as much as he did.
The bond in your chest sang at his touch. Your body already reacting to him. 
He lifted you onto the counter, parting your thighs with his leg so he could stand between them. His hard cock pressed against your barely covered center, causing both of you to moan. He trailed kisses down your jaw, to your throat, tracing his canines over the fragile skin. 
Azriel wasted no time, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor, revealing your bare breasts to him. He groaned at the sight, running his hands down your body. 
“You’re so beautiful,” he growled, before pushing you to lean back so he could trace kisses down your chest, taking one of your peaked nipples into his mouth. You groaned, twisting your hand in his dark hair. 
His hand slid up your thigh until his fingers hooked around the seam of your underwear and swiftly pulled it off of you, leaving you entirely naked in front of him. He moaned, dropping to his knees, staring at your glistening core. 
“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he growled before leaning forward and taking a single lick up the center of your folds. Your head fell back against the cabinets at the sensation. 
“Please,” you begged. 
That was all he needed to hear, diving his tongue into you. You writhed on the counter as he flicked his tongue against your clit, his finger circling around your entrance. Your hips bucked as you moaned, needing more. 
Azriel knew your body, knew how to force you close to the edge so quickly with just his tongue. He knew the right time to finally push a finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out before adding a second one. You mewled, your first orgasm coming quickly. 
Azriel cursed as he felt you fall over the edge, as you pulsed around his fingers. He stood, still pushing his fingers in and out of you as his other hand worked to untie his leathers. You helped him, pushing his shirt off and he yanked his pants down. 
You stroked his dick up and down, licking your lips.
Azriel ripped your hand away with a growl. “I need to be in you. Now.” 
Before you could blink, he thrusted his cock into you, hard and fast. You both groaned as he seated himself inside of you, wrapping his large arms around your waist and pulling you tight against his bare chest. You were both panting, the bond that had still not been accepted glowed at your contact. 
Azriel gave you a few seconds to adjust before pulling all the way out and thrusting back into you just as hard. He growled, his head falling into the crevice of your neck as he set a punishing pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again, cursing. 
He pulled away, still thrusting in and out of you, to grab your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, his pace becoming faster, harder. “Your body was made for me. For me only.”
You fluttered around him in response to his possessive words. Words you knew meant nothing once this was all over. You groaned his name, relishing in the pain and pleasure of his hard thrusts. 
“Say it,” he growled, his grip on your chin tightening. “Say your mine.” 
“Gods, Azriel,” you moaned. “I’m yours.”
“Again,” he grunted, his thrusts not letting up. 
“Yours,” you cried out. “I’m yours.” 
His pupils were dilated, turning his hazel eyes black as he fucked you with a frenzy only a mate could. His free hand dipped between your legs, rubbing your clit. You cried out, feeling your second orgasm of the night building. 
“That’s it,” Azriel grunted. “You take me so well, pretty girl. So fucking good. Mine. You’re mine.”
“Yours,” you agreed. The mirthroot made your head spin, the feeling of Azriel fucking you almost too much. You cried out again as your orgasm suddenly crashed through you like a wave. 
Azriel cursed, fucking you through your orgasm, until he couldn’t hold his rhythm anymore. His thrusts became sloppy, erratic, as he chased after his own high. You reached a hand out, stroking down the soft membrane of his beautiful wing, pushing him over the edge. 
“Fuck,” he growled loudly, burying himself inside of you as he exploded.
You could feel his hot seed inside of you. He pulled out a bit and pushed back in, making sure none of it was wasted. Your body was limp as he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you, holding you tight against his chest.
He carried you into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed. Your head was spinning now. You blinked, feeling the bond in your chest tighten at the sight of him. 
“Don’t even think of falling asleep,” he commanded with a growl, climbing over you. He caged your head with his arms, his mouth attaching itself to your neck again, kissing and sucking. “I’m not done with you.” 
Hours later, you watched him disappear in a flurry of shadows, only staying long enough to help clean you up after he made a mess of your body. This was how it was. He would come here, take what he needed from you and disappear. It used to hurt you more, used to tear your heart apart. Now…now you were numb to it. 
You were numb to most things, angry at the rest. 
But mostly, you were scared. And you knew he was too. Scared to push this any farther. Scared to dive into a territory you weren’t sure you were ready for. You didn’t belong here. You never would. You might’ve been dragged out of the Court of Nightmares but you had never truly left. 
Because that place had turned you into little more than ash. It had taken everything you were and crushed it, crushed it so thoroughly that you would never be able to glue back the pieces. And the High Lord and his dogs had been naive in thinking that they had rescued you, saved you.
They had not saved you.
They had not saved you because there was nothing left of you to be saved.  
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
One Year Ago
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The corset you were wearing under your dress was constricting, your lungs begging for a chance to breathe. The dress that was over it was hardly much better. But the High Lord and Lady were making an appearance today and so your father had the handmaidens get you ready, making you look proper enough to be in the Throne Room alongside him.
There was a part of you that liked when the High Lord and Lady came, only because you were allowed out of your chambers for once. The chambers your father basically had you shackled in. You were his youngest daughter, finally the age to be married off, and he was worried you’d go and pull a Morrigan if you were given even a sliver of freedom.
The other part of you hated the High Lord and Lady. Hated seeing their smug faces, their pretentious attitudes. Even her stupid stuck-up sisters and the two Illyrians walked around looking down their noses at everyone who lived in Hewn City. As if you were all bottom of the barrel, the fifth under their shoes. 
But your only crime in life was being born in this awful mountain. 
That was enough for them, it seemed. They had no interest in helping any of the fae stuck down here that wanted out, that weren’t the awful people you were thought to be. It didn’t matter to them. 
All that mattered was their perfect little city away from all the rats below. And you hated them for it. Hated all of them. 
In fact, hate was all you had ever known. Bruise after bruise. Strike after strike. Torn out and stomped on after cleaning your own blood from the floor when your father was done doling out his punishments for whatever he decided you’d done wrong that day, time and time again.
There was a time you prayed to the stars for help. 
But that time was over. 
“Rise,” the High Lord ordered after making all of you stay on your knees for what felt like eternity.
You were quick to stand, brushing your dress down as you did. Your father was hovering right next to you, as if he were ready to snatch you away the second he deemed it fit. 
Your eyes trailed over your two rulers before briefly passing over the Morrigan, Lady Death and The General, finally landing on the Shadowsinger.
He was stoic, hauntingly beautiful. But you already knew that. He was the one all the Ladies liked to pant over while their husbands were out of earshot. 
As if he could feel your stare, his gaze shot to you and you went back to staring at the floor. Your father grabbed you by the upper arm, leading you towards the front of the room where the other Lords were gathering. 
You spared a glance at the shadowsinger again, noticing he had moved now to the High Lord’s side and appeared to be whispering something in his ear. 
You went back to acting like a pretty little doll perched next to your father. After all, beauty was the only currency females had in Hewn City. That was all your mother had taught you before she died. 
Keep yourself pretty and then maybe you’d be rewarded with a husband who liked keeping you that way and would not leave bruises on your body. 
Your beauty never saved you from your father’s hand though. 
“Lord Thanatos,” the High Lord called out, causing the band to pause their playing and the others to go quiet. Your stomach twisted at the sound of your father’s name. “Please approach the Throne with your daughter.”
Your brows pinched in confusion as your father yanked you forward. It wasn’t the first time Rhysand had asked to speak to your father but why had he requested you to approach as well? 
“My Lord,” your father said with a bow of his head. “Lady.”
He shot you a glare when you stood next to him frozen. You snapped out of your trance and gave a curtsy, keeping your eyes on the ground like an obedient and submissive female should. 
“What is your name, little bird?”
“Her name is—”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the High Lord snapped. “I was talking to your daughter.”
Your eyes flickered up, widening as the High Lord’s piercing violet ones landed on you. “M-my name is y/n, my Lord.”
You swallowed as he looked between you and your father. What could he possibly want with you? 
“Okay, y/n. Tell me, do you enjoy living here?”
You glanced at your father to see his eyes narrowed at you. You nodded in answer, holding your hands behind your back to hide your shaking. 
“My Lord, what is the meaning of this—”
“It is impolite to interrupt a conversation,” the High Lady sneered, holding a hand up in your father’s direction. 
A muscle in his jaw clenched but he stayed quiet. 
“And do you possess any power?”
You glanced at your father again, not sure how to answer. He had wanted to keep you a secret from the High Lord, worried he’d take you away once he found out what you could do, how you could benefit him. Instead, Keir and your father wanted to use you to secure a strong alliance with another court. 
“A mere fraction,” your father cut in. “The girl can’t even winnow.”
You bit your lip, looking back at the floor. Your cheeks turned red at your father’s lie.
“Interrupt me one more time, Lord Thanatos, and I’ll have you escorted to a prison cell,” the High Lord growled before looking back at you. “What power do you possess, y/n? Don’t bother lying to me, little bird. I will know.”
You looked at your father again, his lips were pressed in a thin line, displeased. You looked back into the intimidating gaze of the High Lord. 
“I possess the Clear Touch, my Lord,” you answered.
The power that ran in your family line. The ability to touch a person and see their memories if you were able to get past their mental barrier. The High Lord grinned. 
“Good, you will pack your things and return with us to Velaris,” the High Lord declared. “I have use of you.”
Your jaw nearly dropped open and you turned to look at your father. His face was bright red with anger. 
“What?!” He spat out. “You cannot just kidnap her. She is under my rule until marriage. And she already has a number of suitors, some of whom are supposed to arrive this weekend for negotiations. You can’t take her.”
Your jaw did drop open this time. You had no idea about any suitors. You quickly fixed your face back into an unreadable one when the High Lord’s gaze stayed on you. 
“As far as I know, your daughter is of age now. Which means she can make her own choice,” the High Lord purred. “Which will it be y/n? Come work for me or stay here to be sold off by your father?”
The arrogance in his voice irked you. It’s like he was assuming no one would ever turn down the chance to work with him, to go to Velaris. As if he were offering you a reward. But you hated him as much as you hated your father. And you hated this court equally. 
Marriage to a foreign male might be your only chance to escape from here.
You could feel your father’s heavy gaze on the side of your face. “I would like to stay with my father, my Lord.”
Shock flashed through the High Lord’s eyes for a second and your father grinned. 
“Well, she’s made her choice, High Lord,” your father gloated. He wrapped his hand around your arm, right over the bruise hiding under your sleeve. You flinched slightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse—”
Suddenly, your father was yanked from you—the shadowsinger now between you and him.
“Get your fucking hands off my mate,” the shadowsinger growled lowly, his face dark and devastatingly lethal. 
Mate.
Mate.
That word clanged through you like metal against steel. The shadowsinger was staring down at your father, not even looking in your direction. Not even as a sea of gasps rang out in the crowd. 
Mate.
He had just claimed you in front of the entirety of Hewn City. There would be no marriage now. No escaping this court. You knew what it meant to be someone’s mate as a female. He now had rights to you. You were his. 
The blood left your face, your jaw clenching in dread.
Mate.
That one word had been enough. Enough for the High Lord to have you escorted to your home, made to pack up all your things to join them on their journey back to Velaris. You did so without a single word. What could you do? Even your own father wouldn’t look at you anymore. Not with the shadowsinger breathing down his neck. 
And when Azriel saw the chains in your room, the ones your father locked you up with at night to make sure you could never leave, he had grabbed hold of your father and disappeared in a flurry of shadows. 
Your heart was pounding as you chucked your clothes into a trunk. Once you were all packed, two females appeared out of nowhere. The shadow wraiths. They took hold of your trunk and disappeared. Your father’s handmaidens led you out to the sitting area where you waited for your mate to come retrieve you as if you were little more than some item he had purchased. 
Azriel returned, his knuckles bloody and bruised. You weren’t naive. You knew it was your father’s blood on his hands. You should’ve felt satisfied at seeing it, but you weren’t. This wasn’t a victory for you. You were merely just a trade between the two males. From your father’s ownership to your mate’s. 
“Come on,” Azriel said, reaching out his hand to you. “Let’s go.” 
You said nothing, taking his hand as you were meant to. Shadows engulfed the two of you until you were being pulled out of the darkness and into a new place. You quickly dropped Azriel’s hand, looking around. It was a bedroom, simple but still opulent. You glanced out the window to see you were high in the sky, overlooking a city.    
“We’re at the House of Wind.” Azriel’s voice came from behind you. You whirled around to stare at him. “This is where you’ll be staying for now.” 
He took a step towards you and you couldn’t fight the urge to take a step back to maintain the distance between you. He held up his hands. “I’m not…I’m not going to do anything to you.”
Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know much about the shadowsinger, only how he tortured people for information and came from Illyria. You glanced at his wings.
You did know about that. How brutal Illyrian males were supposed to be. How they clipped their females and used them as nothing more than breeding stock. 
“You’re Illyrian,” you finally said. 
He nodded. “Yes.” 
“I know how Illyrians treat their females.”
A brief flash of anger sparked behind his hazel eyes and you berated yourself in your head. Fuck. You were already forgetting all the things your mother had taught you. Things every female in Hewn City were taught from birth. Never anger a male, keep your opinions to yourself, always say yes when they demand something of you. 
“I am nothing like them,” Azriel ground out between his teeth, his fist clenched. 
You swallowed, taking another step back. 
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, already bracing yourself to be hit.
But Azriel didn’t advance forward to your surprise. 
“I will leave you alone now. Dinner will be served at six if you wish to join.”
And then he was gone, melting back into his shadows.
You let out the breath you were holding, looking around the room once more. Your new cage. Slightly better than your last one, but a cage nonetheless. You sighed and began to unpack your things. Might as well accept your fate. You were the shadowsinger’s mate. There was no escaping this now. 
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You showed up at dinner, scared to anger Azriel even more than you had already. But Azriel had paid you little attention since you had been out here with all of them. Instead, he sat at the opposite side of the table, next to one of the High Lady’s sisters. They seemed to be engaging in pleasant enough conversation by the looks of it. 
Good. You were happy his attention was elsewhere. Though your chest ached as you watched him exchange soft smiles with the other female, completely different than how he had been with you. 
It’s just the bond, you reminded yourself. The bond you hadn’t even felt snap for you. 
“So, y/n, how old are you exactly?” 
“Eighteen,” you answered the Morrigan, who sat across from you. 
At this, Azriel’s head whipped towards you, his brows pinched. Even the female next to him looked at you, her brown eyes filled with some indiscernible emotion. 
As soon as they were all in Velaris, it was like a completely different group of people. The menacing stares, the cold voices, the disdain. All of it was gone and replaced with something warmer. Though they still watched you with suspicious eyes. 
It only annoyed you further. Hewn City was something they could wipe from their hands and escape from, with no regard for those stuck there. 
“Hey, Feyre, you’re not the baby anymore!” The General laughed. 
“You must be relieved to finally be away from that place,” Feyre chirped.
Your grip on your fork tightened. If they all recognized how horrible that place was, then why did they insist on doing nothing to fix it? You weren’t the only one who suffered there. 
You heard your mother’s voice in your head now, Always be agreeable. Say what they want you to. Don’t put up a fight or they’ll only hit you harder. Be gracious. Look happy. 
You glanced at Azriel to see he was still watching you.
“Yes,” you agreed, like you were supposed to. 
Yes. It was the only word you had said since being here at this table. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. 
After dinner was over, they had Azriel escort you back to your room. You followed behind him, staring at his large beautiful wings. You supposed things could be worse. You could be mated to some ugly, rotten looking male. At least your new prisoner guard was handsome. 
You stepped inside of your room, expecting Azriel to follow. Is this when he’d force you to have sex with him? You mentally went through all the steps your mother had told you about sex. About how much it would hurt, how it was just something you would need to suffer through in order to keep a male happy. 
To your surprise, Azriel did not enter the room. But he didn’t leave either, lingering in the doorframe. 
“You know, you don’t have to keep saying yes to everything,” he said. “You’re not in Hewn City anymore. You’re allowed to say no. Allowed to voice your own opinions.”
“Okay,” you replied, stoically. Was this some sort of test?
He let out a sigh. “You don’t want to be here, do you?” 
You only blinked in response. He ran a hand through his hair, his beautiful face unreadable. “I’m sorry for claiming you in front of the court like that. But it was the only way your father would let us take you out of there. You don’t have to be scared anymore. No one here is going to hurt you.” 
“I didn’t want to leave,” you said back. “I told the High Lord I wished to stay with my father.”
Azriel seemed confused by your remark. “Your father isn’t here, y/n. You don’t have to continue to lie. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I am not lying,” you replied. 
“You…you wish to stay in Hewn City? You wish to stay with your father?” 
You shook your head. Because no, that wasn’t what you wanted. But you knew you didn’t want this either. You didn’t want to be in the Night Court at all. You wanted to be whisked away somewhere else. No one cared for you here. That wasn’t how the Night Court worked. 
“So you did want to come here?”
“No,” you whispered. “I do not wish to be here either.” 
A muscle in Azriel’s jaw clenched. “So what do you want?”
Your brows pinched together. “I-I don’t know.”
You’d never been allowed to want for anything. You had no clue what was even out in the world beyond this court. You’d lived in Hewn City all your life. Had never been educated on much of anything. Not beyond typical things the females were allowed to learn. 
Azriel’s fists tightened and then he disappeared. 
You didn’t see him again until two days later. He showed up knocking on your door, telling you to pack your things. You did as he said without argument. Perhaps he was finally taking you home now to do whatever it is mates did with each other. 
But to your surprise, Azriel brought you to an apartment that was nearly empty besides the necessities. He placed your trunk in the bedroom before turning to look at you, his face blank. 
“You will live here now. I will not bother you, nor will anyone else from the court. If you wish to speak to any of us, you can reach out whenever,” he said, his voice ice cold. “I set up an account under your name that you can use to buy whatever you need.”
He was just…dumping you here? 
“I’m meant to live here?” You questioned. “Alone?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” The disdain in his voice had you folding into yourself. “So yes. You will live here. Since I’m the reason you’re in this situation, I will cover the cost.”
All of the gentleness and patience he had shown that other female was gone, nowhere to be found. 
“Okay,” you said, flatly. 
He peered at you once more, searching. You kept your face neutral, not wanting to show the fear you now felt. Alone in a city. You didn’t know a single person who lived here. What would you do? What could you do?
“You know where to find me if you wish,” Azriel said and then disappeared into his shadows, leaving you standing alone in an empty apartment. 
You spent the next month in a haze. Only leaving the apartment for food. Otherwise you just sat and watched people from your window. 
Sometimes you’d see Azriel walking through the streets with the High Lady’s sister, exchanging soft glances, laughing, brushing up against each other. 
You seethed at the sight. He had claimed you, dragged you to this city away from everything and everyone you’d ever known, and dumped you here alone just to parade around with another female.
Why had he taken you if he didn’t want you? 
Why had he said anything? 
It wasn’t like you could return to Hewn City. Your father would have trouble finding you suitors now that everyone knew you were the shadowsinger’s mate. Without having a use for you, you were sure your father would only treat you worse. 
You were truly alone. You’d always been, of course. But though you held no love for your father, at least he had you taken care of. 
Now you were on your own. 
Abandoned by your own mate. 
Maybe you should feel relieved that he didn’t want you. Seemed more invested in the High Lady’s sister. But it didn’t feel good either way. 
Were you not good enough for him? Were you not worth the effort of courting? You’d always known your life would never be filled with soft, sweet romance. Not if you were meant to be sold off. 
But to find out you had a mate, a mate clearly capable of being gentle and kind with females…just not you. 
You were Court of Nightmare scum. A female meant to be used and broken and ruined at the hands of males. Not good enough for the High Lord’s brother apparently. Not good enough for sweet smiles or flowers.
Just something to claim and discard. 
Something inside of you broke.
All the emotions you had been holding in were suddenly flooding out. So you finally let yourself cry. 
And cry.
And cry.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Months went by. You were sure how many. 
You had been stumbling around late one night, trying to learn the city streets when some male had approached you. He was charming, handsome. Said he could tell you were lost and asked if you’d like him to show you around.
You said yes. After all, your own mate hardly cared about you. He never sought you out after dumping you in the apartment. Never checked in on how you were adjusting…if you even were.
You weren’t. 
You hated this city and all it represented. Hated all the fae here who had never had to suffer at the hands of their own ruler. 
The male had done more than show you around. He introduced you to a whole other world, one that was hidden in the underbelly of this city. Something that felt a little more like the home you knew. 
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Present Day
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You were woken up by the sheets being yanked off your body. You sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes. You groaned, lifting a hand to your pounding head. Your vision finally came into focus, narrowing in on a seething Azriel standing at the foot of your bed. 
Gasps came from around you and it took you a second to realize you were not only naked, but in the middle of several other naked bodies—two females and one male. You quickly pulled the sheets back over yourself. 
“Get out,” Azriel growled at them. “Now.” 
No one moved, too startled. 
“Now!” Azriel roared. “Before I rip out your throats!” 
That had all of them moving. But you stayed frozen on the bed, staring at Azriel. Silence rang in your apartment until they were all gone, leaving the two of you alone. Azriel tossed you a robe and you quickly shrugged it on, standing up from the bed. 
“I thought this would be over by now, y/n,” Azriel snarled, moving out of your bedroom back to the living area. He grabbed the kitchen trash can and started stalking through your apartment. It took you a second to realize what he was doing before you cried out, rushing to stop him. 
“What are you doing?!”
“This is done, y/n,” Azriel snapped, brushing you off him. “I’m done giving you access to my accounts if all you’re going to do is buy drugs and get fucked up every day.” 
He grabbed a bag of mirthroot and tossed it into the trash can. You shouted at him to stop, trying to rip the trash out of his hands. 
Didn’t he understand?!
You needed that. You needed the drugs, needed the alcohol. You needed it to shut your mind off, to keep the empty and depressing thoughts away. You would die without them.
“Azriel, stop!”
“No,” he snarled back at you. “This has to stop, y/n.”
“Why are you so concerned about this now?” you shouted, tossing your hands in the air. “You’ve never cared before. Why now?” 
You stalked after him, trying to grab the trash from his hands but he easily pushed you away. You felt desperate tears line your eyes. 
“I’ve always cared!” Azriel yelled. “I have always cared about you, y/n. But I thought you would phase out of this. I thought you just needed to explore your new freedom and get it out of your system. But you haven’t stopped and you’re out of control!” 
You fisted the back of his shirt, forcing him to stop. “You have never cared for me! Just fucking leave, Azriel. This is my life. I will live it how I want to.”
“Not while I’m the one funding it!”
He glared down at you and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Then don’t! I don’t need your money. I don’t need you. I can find someone else. I can go somewhere else.” 
“Really? You’d just fuck off with some other male?!” Azriel shouted. “After everything I’ve done for you?!”
You scoffed. “What the fuck have you ever done for me, Azriel?! You dragged me from my home, forced me here, and then treated me like I was nothing to you!”
“I was giving you the space you wanted!”
“No, you were busy fucking the High Lady’s sister,” you snapped. “Why don’t you go back to her if this is too much for you? I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want this!” 
“Keep Elain out of this! She’s done nothing to you,” Azriel growled, making you see red. “Elain is my friend. She sure as hell cares about me more than you do.” 
“You know what? Fuck you, Azriel,” you said, pushing him away from you. “Fuck you. Fuck your High Lord and Lady. Fuck her stupid sisters. Fuck your whole stupid family! You’re right! You’ve all done nothing! Nothing! Just let us all suffer in that city while you all got to be happy here!” 
“And what are you doing to help anyone, y/n? What are you doing besides getting drunk and high every single night?” Azriel tossed the trash at your feet, as if to prove his point. “All you’ve done is become a burden!” 
Your breath caught in your throat and you took a step away from him. A burden? You were a burden to him? He was the one who took you! The one who brought you here!
“Then get out,” you whispered. “Get out and leave and never fucking come back.” 
Azriel let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”
You glared up at him. “No, Azriel, I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck you want from me! You come here, fuck me and leave! How am I supposed to know what you mean?!”
“You think any of this is easy for me? You think I was overjoyed to find out my mate had been suffering in Hewn City the whole time I was living here? Do you know how much I prayed to the Mother for a mate? How much I wanted this? And now I have it. Now I have you and fuck, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to help you!” 
“Well, you might as well give up now! I don’t want your help, Azriel. I can’t be helped! I’m not broken!”
“Then explain all of this!” Azriel shouted, gesturing at the mess in your apartment. The empty bottles, the drugs on the table. “I gave you a year, y/n. I gave you a year to adjust, to build a life here in Velaris for yourself!”
“Have you considered that I don’t want to?! I don’t belong here, Azriel. I don’t belong in this city, in this place!”
If I could tell you how I feel, I know that you’re still hurting too. No, I’m not broken. I’m just scared to belong here, scared to be happier. 
You wiped at the tears pouring down your face now. Your head was still pounding, your throat hoarse from the screaming. It was too much. It was all too much. 
“You know what I think? I think you’re scared,” Azriel snarled. “I think you’re scared to give all of this up. I think you’re scared to get better. I think you’re scared to let yourself be happy for once!” 
“You’re one to talk,” you snapped back. “You’re just as scared as I am, Azriel, you just hide it better. But I’m your mate and I know how you feel. I can see it.” 
“And what do you think I see when I look at you?” His voice was ice cold. “I see someone broken. I see someone so broken they don’t even know how to be happy. You never have, have you?” 
“Have you?” you shot back at him. “Have you ever felt happy, Azriel? Of course I’m not happy! Why the fuck would I be happy here?” 
The apartment fell silent as you both glared at each other, so many emotions swirling in your eyes. You hated him, hated what he had done to you, hated that you needed him, hated that you felt like you would die without him. And you knew he felt that way too, could see the anguish on his face. 
Azriel whispered your name so quietly, you would’ve thought you imagined it if you hadn’t seen his lips move. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his wings drooping to the floor. Your eyes widened as he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your stomach. You felt his tears wet your silk robe. 
“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know how to do this. You think I don’t care about you, but you are all I care about. This whole world could burn to the ground and it’d still be you I looked for in the ash.” 
“I am already nothing but ash,” you whispered. “I might not have your scars, Azriel, but I have been burned too. Everything has been taken from me. Everything. Of course I’m scared to love you. Of course I’m scared to be happy. I can give you nothing because so little of me exists now.” 
“That’s not true,” he muttered against your stomach. “That’s not true at all, y/n. I don’t need anything from you. I just need you to let me help you. Please. Let me help you put yourself back together. Let me help you take away the pain. Let me give you a better life. Give me that chance. That's all I ask for.” 
“I can’t.” Your voice cracked as he gripped you harder. “You’re right. I am scared. I’m a coward. I can’t…I-I can’t let myself be happy. I can’t let myself feel anything. It hurts too much.”
“I know, baby, I know,” Azriel whispered. “So let me help you. Let me in. Let me make you feel something. I can feel your anger, I can feel your rage inside. Take it out on me if you have to. But stop shutting me out. I’m sorry for how things started. I didn’t know what to do. I was overwhelmed, scared, hurt. But please give me the chance to make it up to you. Please, baby, let me help you. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.” 
You fell to your knees in front of him, mirroring his position. His hazel eyes bore into yours, every single emotion he felt poured down the bond between the two of you. For once you let yourself show him how you felt. You undid the binds on your heart, cracked the barrier you had put up between the two of you. You let it all loose. Everything. Every single emotion you felt.
Azriel cradled your face in his hands. Kohl had made black trails down your face with your tears, your robe had slipped off one shoulder, your hair had half fallen out of your braid, but you had never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment. Because he was finally seeing you. The person you hid behind the drugs and alcohol. The person you hid between the sheets. 
You were scarred, hurt, and broken. You had a darkness swelling in you that matched his own. You were the first sight of blood emerging from a wound, the torn pages of a book, the flame of an almost melted candle, the fog obscuring the woods. You were made of everything he was. You were his equal, his love, his mate. 
You were scared and he was too. But as he pressed his lips against yours desperately, you saw a world where that fear might not exist. A world where you were happy and loved and whole again. You weren’t there now. You wouldn’t be there tomorrow.
But perhaps in the end, that’s where you’d find yourself.  
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
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Nessian🖤
“my mate taught me well”
-nesta in acosf
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sirenpearldust · 2 months
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Butter cookies
Notes: There may be a second part either of their future or before they were separated.
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: fluff
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“You look like an overgrown pigeon standing at my door. Come inside before you startle my neighbours,” she snapped, huffing.
His shadows wandered towards her easing her annoyance over being woken up from her slumber by the deranged bat - who was about to enter her domain.
She adjusted her clothes, embarrassed of wearing a tiny red nightdress in front of him. The white granny cardigan, her attempt of modesty in her hurry to open the door.
Strolling through her living room she opened the curtains, welcoming the sunlight in; unlocking the balcony door the summer breeze cleared the stuffy air.
“You do realise it’s midday,” he chuckled quietly, cutting the white roses before putting them in the blue porcelain vase he’d bought her on her 300th birthday.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t patronise me,“ she dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand.
The summer breeze and the sunlight seemed to have an immediate effect of tranquility. Eyes closed she stood there drinking it all in, her skin glowed healthily.
He observed her, how his shadows engulfed her, noticing their sense of peace in her presence.
Strolling towards her, he admired the view, understanding why she chose this place over Velaris during the winter.
Turning towards him she opened her eyes, narrowing them immediately at him.
“Put the tea kettle on the stove; I want chamomile,“ she commanded.
Following her orders, he smirked and shook his head at her playful demeanour.
“You idiots seem to only remember and visit me when you’re in trouble so count me a bit surprised of your visit. Please don’t ruin my vacation and writing of my new book.“
He only hummed.
Gathering her book scripts she also set aside her watercolours, the shadows cleaned the space on the red sofa by arranging her pillows and folding her soft grey blanket.
Joining him in the kitchen, she took out her homemade sweet butter cookies and pastries, placing them on a plate to share.
Azriel attempted to grab a cookie, only to have his hand smacked. Looking at him with disappointment, she said “500 years and you still haven’t changed any bit from the boy I’ve met back then.“
Laughing, he remembered the time he and the boys successfully stole three entire batches before a party, only escaping her fury and a gruesome death by a whisker.
Carrying the full tray, he settled next to her, spreading his wings comfortably. Taking a butter cookie he swallowed it at once. He grinned at her, but she only shook her head, blowing on her tea before sipping.
“They were always your favourites.“
“Is that why you always keep making them?“
She playfully replied, “Maybe I’m just trying fatten you up, and keep you away from everyone else, all to myself and no one would suspect me.“
Smirking, he said “I don’t think I would stay fat for long in your presence; and considering your track record of attempted murder, I do think you would be the first suspect of my disappearance.” Both laughed at her past attempts of almost strangling Cassian to death for burning her kitchen down. The male was a danger to society causing uproar everywhere he went.
Turning her attention to the view outside, she felt fuzzy at his gaze.
He admired her beauty, his eyes briefly lingered on her revealed skin; quickly averting them to avoid making her uncomfortable.
His shadows started swirling between them noticing both their emotions. They took a palmier(pastry) and ate it to relieve themselves of the tension, as they were just as nervous.
Azriel felt a mix of ease and unease in her presence. Struggling with his own feelings towards her. She made him feel both whole and conflicted, his emotions stronger than ever.
The memory of their first kiss, his initial taste of feeling complete, remained etched in his mind. Without her he felt a sense of loss.
Recollections of her reassurance, gentle touch and guidance, despite her own lack of experience, remained vivid.
She embraced his shadows, knew of his status as a bastard and held his scarred hands without hesitation or prejudice.
Her tenderness towards him gave him a reason to live, a sense of worth.
Had she not made clear that she wasn’t seeking a partner at the time, he might have courted and pursued her hand in marriage.
However, one unexpected night she left by order of the High Lord to return to her family in the Hewn City, leaving him heartbroken.
Attempting to cope, he had drowned his sorrows, ending up in an unkown women‘s bed. His first time he couldn’t recall even after 500 years.
In an effort to move on from her he became infatuated with Morrigan.
Everything except her appearance reminded him of you; her innocence, her connection to the Court of Nightmares, her complicated family affairs, her defiance, her stubbornness and the light in her eyes.
It all reminded him of you, the one still holding his heart.
Noticing his absent-minded stare, she waved a hand in front of his face, bringing him back.
“I asked if you’d like to stay with me for a few days. You deserve a break,“ she insisted.
Concern etched on her face, she pointed out his exhausted appearance ,“look at how much weight you’ve lost, have you been sleeping at all?“
Bringing up his dark eye circles she gripped his chin softly rubbing his stubble.
“You didn’t shave or cut your hair! You look like an exhausted father of five!“
Holding her hand before she could remove it completely, he responded chuckling “you sound like a nagging wife, caring for the father of her five children. I’m a grown male, you don’t have to worry about me, I take care of myself.“
“Don’t downplay my worries. Did the others even notice how exhausted you look? How much work is Rhys giving you?“
Her concerned nagging continued until she caught his gaze at her lips. Her heart was about to pummel out of her chest.
Smirking, she leaned forward, teasing, “Are you listening, Azzie baby?“
His wings shuddered at her proximity and voice. His body moved closer to hers, almost tasting her sweet lips.
The world seemed to pause, their heartbeats echoing as they drew in even closer.
Almost, he almost felt the relief of her lips on his.
A loud knocking interrupted them. Abruptly they separated.
Quickly rising and tightening her cardigan against her body, she walked to her door, where her elderly neighbour awaited her.
Frustrated he groaned rubbing his face, trying to calm his heartbeat as he looked at the ceiling.
His shadows whirred violently and whispered angrily around him as they were anticipating their kiss only for their Faeries to get interrupted.
Hearing the door closing, he watched her. She remained unfazed by what had happened moments prior and approached him explaining the kinds of teas she had been gifted and the invitation she’d gotten.
“Let’s get your hair fixed before we attend, I need a plus one before mothers start throwing their sons at me again.“
Though he groaned, he agreed, his jealousy and protectiveness would not leave her to be pestered or to be taken from him.
“I’m going to my room and get ready.“
At her disappearance, the shadows whispered and gushed of the softness of her hair and skin, her sweet scent, her beautiful eyes and more - their comments never ceased.
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praisethelorde · 15 days
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I'm just going to come out and say it: I don't understand the world building in the ACOTAR series. Isn't it supposed to have a medieval setting? That's how it was in the first book. So why did Feyre make soup FROM A CAN? Why was she wearing a turtleneck and leggings? Why was she using a baby stroller? Those are all relatively modern inventions as far as I'm aware. It also seems like all the other courts and the mortal realm have strictly old fashioned/medieval settings except the Night Court. The Night Court's themes (their buildings, the way they dress, etc) seem futuristic. Except Velaris. It has a very modern atmosphere. So altogether, I've noticed medieval, modern AND futuristic themes in the ACOTAR series. Has anyone else noticed this? I think it's very creative but I don't think it makes much sense. Idk maybe I'm wrong.
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silverlinedeyes · 2 months
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The Rot In The Land…
Is it corrupting the people who live there as well?
I was talking to @wingedblooms about her and @offtorivendell and others’ theory that Elain will heal the barren parts of Prythian through her lifesinging powers, or healing powers, or raw magic, or maybe even the magic of the Mother (too many questions about and options for Elain’s magic 😅), including in particular Ramiel.
And it got me thinking about the barren lands we’ve seen in Prythian and Midgard that seem to be leeched of life, almost infected somehow: Illyria, the Court of Nightmares, the Prison, Avallen, the Middle.
In all of those lands that have people living there currently—Illyria, the Court of Nightmares, and Avallen—we see that those societies appear almost corrupted. They’re backwards. The people seem bad. They treat their women poorly and oppress them. There is almost a rot within the culture, within the people themselves. And in those lands that don’t have people living there, monsters live instead, perhaps feeding on the rot and darkness in the land, or at least thriving from it?
Why are all these “backwards” corrupt cultures located around these barren lands? Is the magic or essence that is draining the life from the land and corrupting it also infecting and corrupting the people who live there? Is it draining their goodness from them? Darkening their souls?
Will healing the Land heal the People?
When Bryce revived Avallen, did that remove what was corrupting the people who lived there? Will it cause a change in the Avallen people and culture over time because the infection essentially is gone?
And if Elain heals Ramiel and the Court of Nightmares, will it not only bring spring back to the land as @wingedblooms so brilliantly has predicted and heal the land, but will it also allow free the people and societies who live there of the rot (dark essence) that has the infected and corrupted them for millennia, and allow them to move forward free of this darkness and evil towards goodness and the light?
Will the Illyrians and the Court of Nightmares be able to finally reform themselves and move towards an equal and just and good society once they are freed of this rot that has corrupted them?
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littlestw01f · 5 days
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Prologue
Series Masterlist
CW: Underage childbirth, mentions of SA, thoughts of death
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There was a loud cry in one of the homes, a female, no more than fourteen years old, her legs spread wide and a midwife between her legs, she cried loudly as the contractions hit.
She cried for her mother, but her father held his wife from approaching her, giving her a look that made her cower. "She's disgraced this family, she doesn't deserve comfort."
A wedlock, the female had gotten pregnant in wedlock, her fiance, hundreds of years older than she was, had forced himself on her, but no one really cared, she was the one with the child, she was the family's embarrassment.
She cried as the midwife softly whispered, "That's it, you'll crown soon, keep going."
She sniffed and whimpered, face covered in tears, the pain was too intense, she didn't think she would survive, she didn't want to survive. The pain felt like a constant stabbing in her heavily pregnant stomach.
Hours, it had been hours that she was like this, with her legs spread and midwives around her, helping her through the birthing, she cried loudly, the pain unbearable.
"Push, now." The one between her legs spoke, "Now."
"I can't." She whined and cried, feeling the tension in her core, "I can't."
"Yes, you can," The voice of the midwife was gentle, not matching the darkness of the place, of the Court of NIghtmares, in the slightest. "You can..."
The female yelled, doing her best of what she was asked, groaning as the pain increased until it wasn't there anymore, how she wished this was just a nightmare, but it wasn't, it was reality. The room was silent, as the midwife held the babe.
"It's a female," She whispered, and panic filed the new mother.
Don't cry, she begged in the silence to her babe, don't cry. Dying would be better than living as a female here, but the sound that most parents found magical made the Female on the bed, being healed from the birth feel dreadful as the babe started to cry.
She lay on the bed, her eyes dropping as the babe was set on her chest, her breasts not equipped to feed her own child, she wasn't equipped, neither mentally nor physically. She wondered why the Mother had cursed her with a child when most people had to try for years.
She was silent, her ears ringing as she couldn't hear her parents talking to the midwives, a wet nurse already arriving, she exhaled lightly, and if it wasn't for the sudden urge to protect the innocent being on her, protect her babe from the world, she would have wished for a merciful death.
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{General Taglist: @nox-ceur @sonics-atelier @lilah-asteria}
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Why I Dislike Rhysand, Part 2: #NotMyHighLord
Part 2 in the rant I have suppressed for the past several years. Rhysand Stans, be warned, this is not for you. Be prepared to see critiquing of SJM’s writing as well. Proceed at your own risk!! 
I feel like this section of the rant is going to be the one that most people have seen, heard, or expressed themselves already. I myself have seen many posts and takes on this before. There will probably be the least amount of original ideas in this post. Nonetheless, I can’t turn down an opportunity to finally say it in my own words. 
In Part 1 of my rant (and many other posts), I discussed how Sarah J Maas blatantly has an insane sort of obsession with Rhysand. It is impossible not to notice and acknowledge if you read the series from start to finish. All it takes is about 2 minutes listening to her speak about anything related to him for you to see it as well. He is unequivocally Her Favorite and she has demonstrated that by deeming him to be THE MOST of many different things, especially in comparison with others. I made a post last summer about how I really struggle to define what I think of Sarah as an author overall. She has given me some of my favorite fictional characters of all time, written scenes and exchanges between characters that I carry in my heart and soul and overall provided me with an endless amount of entertainment. On the other hand, a GLARING fault I find there to be with her is that she often writes in an extremely puzzling and contradictory way: beating us over the head with something about a character she presents as being true, verbally stated through the dialogue of characters or through the narrative of the story, while having these characters act and behave in a totally OPPOSITE way to the way they are being described by everyone. And this obviously contradictory behavior is never addressed by anyone in the story--or if it is, the ones calling attention to it are vilified and shown in a negative light, even though they are providing commentary on actions carried out canonly by these characters. 
In the simplest form, it’s like this: The author creates a character who others routinely say is the most kind, unselfish, loving, and generous person to grace the planet. An opportunity will NEVER be lost to state these things, through the narrative and through the dialogue of other characters. The fandom comes to accept these things as totally canon traits. You hear the author repeat these same beliefs. The character becomes a favorite of the fandom, who praises him/her for being so kind and selfless. You get excited to read about such a character and open the book yourself. . .only to find scene after scene where the character acts in a way that is cruel, selfish, and arrogant. All while everyone else continues to laud them for being so wonderful. There is a direct contradiction between what you’re seeing and what you’re being told. Tons and tons of readers seem to find nothing unusual about this. You’re left with the feeling that you’re in some kind of insane asylum where nothing makes sense but no one questions it. 
This is the feeling I get whenever I hear about what an amazing High Lord Rhysand is. 
As we’ve established, SJM is obsessed with Rhys. Therefore, she automatically makes Rhys the best at whatever he does. One day I’d love to do a drinking game where we take a shot every time someone reminds us that Rhys is The Most Powerful High Lord In Prythian’s History (he should really just get that phrase trademarked at this point). But in addition to that, we are also often reminded about what a good, just, fair, and progressive beloved ruler he is. 
Rhys as High King: he could think of no other male he’d trust more. No other male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys. And with Feyre as High Queen. . .Prythian would be blessed to have such leaders. (Cassian, ACOSF, page 451) 
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There are a lot of ACOTAR lines that provoke actual visceral anger and disgust in me. This is probably in my All Time Top 3.
Yeah, Rhysand is SUCH a great High Lord!! Didn’t you know. . . there are no slums in Velaris!!
There’s just, you know, female mutilation going on in the mountains!
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Where to even BEGIN unloading? 
I guess I’ll begin here: One of the reasons I strongly dislike Rhysand as a character is because he’s a terrible High Lord.
(And what makes me infuriated and passionately dislike Rhysand is the fact that we are beaten over the head by what an exceptionally wonderful High Lord he is despite the glaring faults shown in the text). 
I really really fail to understand how anyone can believe any differently, when it is canonly stated that two thirds of Rhysand’s court are hellish and terrible places. Women are oppressed and mutilated, people who are brutal and cruel are basically given free reign to do as they please, there is not an ounce of respect given to their so-called true ruler. 
And Rhys, “The Most Powerful High Lord in Prythian’s History” has done. . .nothing. Nothing to truly change either of these places. 
Let’s start with Illyria. 
We all know how horrible life is for Illyrian females. They are forbidden to train, are viewed as vessels for breeding, and have their wings clipped at a young age so they can’t fly. Cassian’s mother is raped by an Illyrian warrior and then worked to death, when her body is dumped off a cliff. Azriel’s mother has her young son taken from her by the male who sired him and relies on his mercy as to when he can be released from his literal prison cell to see him. Rhys’s mother was starving herself so she wouldn't get her period, which is when her wings would have been clipped when she was saved from her fate by his father’s mating bond. Emerie and her mother are horrifically abused by her father, resulting in her mother’s death. Emerie tells Nesta and Gwyn that he would slam her head into walls, crunch her fingers in doors, and that he broke her fucking back. Like most females, her wings are clipped so she’s unable to fly. Upon her father’s death, she gains control of his store much to the displeasure of her male family members who frequently harass and threaten her about it. 
It’s plain to see that these are not randomly occurring isolated situations. Abuse can happen anywhere, with anyone, but there is CLEARLY a cultivated system of abuse and oppression among Illyrian females. Rhys tells us that he has banned the clipping of Illyrian female wings and is slowly working towards implementing changes that will allow women to have more freedom and choices. He tells Feyre that the Illyrians are “slow to change” and that it will take a long time to completely undo the way they’ve lived their lives for centuries. 
I’m sorry, I call BULLSHIT.
The attempts we’ve seen towards this so far in the story have been half-assed at best. Rhysand makes these laws but doesn’t put anything into place to actually enforce them. In ACOMAF, we get this from Devlon, the war lord who rules over the Windhaven camp:
“Another inspection? Your dog,” he jerked his chin toward Cassian, “was here just the other week. The girls are training.”
Rhysand’s strategy to prevent female wing clipping: Tell the violent sexist males with all the power in the camps that it’s banned. Send Cassian in once a week to check up on it. 
That’s it. 
Allow me to demonstrate how utterly ridiculous and contradictory this is.
In ACOMAF, we have the scene where the IC visits the Court of Nightmares (oh don’t worry, we’ll touch on this place in a bit). Right before their departure, Keir insults Feyre and calls her a whore. (Sidenote: no one should ever be called a whore and I am no way in the SLIGHTEST defending Keir but honestly, I don’t know what Rhys expected. It’s like when Rhys goes out of his way to act evil and do evil things and then everyone takes offense to people calling him evil. He dresses Feyre up in skimpy revealing clothing, has her sit on his lap on his throne, and proceeds to basically finger her in front of an entire throne room of people. It’s stated a million times that fae can sense and smell arousal, and both her and Rhys are both completely turned on by this. Feyre calls HERSELF his whore: “The High Lord’s whore. Who I’d become Under the Mountain--who the world expected me to be. The dangerous new pet that Mor’s father would now seek to feel out.” Like. . .buddy, you have her play and act the part of “The High Lord’s whore” and make a public scene in front of a man who has no respect for women, and then are enraged when he calls her a whore. What did you think he would do?? How did you think he would respond?? It’s almost like he was purposely trying to goad Kier into a reaction so he could punish him for it, honestly). 
ANYWAY. . .Keir calls Feyre a whore. And Rhys loses his shit:
Night exploded into the room.
People cried out. And when the darkness cleared, Keir was on his knees.
Rhys still lounged on the throne. His face a mask of frozen rage.
“Apologize”, Rhys said. My heart thundered at the pure command, the utter wrath.
Keir’s neck muscles strained, and sweat broke out on his lip.
“I said,” Rhys intoned with such a horrible calm, “apologize”.
The Steward groaned. And when another heartbeat paused--
Bone cracked. Keir screamed.
And I watched--I watched as his arm fractured into not tow, not three, but four different pieces, the skin going taut and loose in all the wrong spots--
Another crack. His elbow disintegrated. My stomach churned.
Keir began sobbing, the tears half from rage, judging by the hatred in his eyes as he looked at me, then Rhys. But his lip formed the words, I’m sorry.
The bones of his other arm splintered, and it was an effort not to cringe.
Rhys smiled as Keir screamed again and said to the room, “Should I kill him for it?”
No one answered.
Rhys chuckled. He said to his Steward, “When you wake up, you’re not to see a healer. If I hear that you do. . .” Another crack--Keir’s pinkie finger went saggy. The male shrieked. “If I hear that you do, I’ll carve you into pieces and bury them where no one can stand a chance of putting you together again.”
Keir’s eyes widened in true terror now. Then, as if an invisible hand had struck the consciousness from him, he collapsed to the floor.
Rhys said to no one in particular, “Dump him in his room”. 
Now. . .does this in ANY way, shape, or form seem like a man who has trouble getting people who are opposed to him to do what he wants them to do?????????
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Rhys doesn’t even move off of his throne and he has Keir groveling on the floor with his arm shattered into pieces. It takes no effort whatsoever on his part. He is, after all, The Most Powerful High Lord in Prythian’s History, in case you’d forgotten. He later laments to Feyre about how ashamed he is for her to see “that side” of him. Feyre says:
“You’re my friend--and I understand that you’re High Lord. I understand that you will defend your true court, and punish threats against it.”
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DO YOU SEE THE RIDICULOUSNESS AT PLAY HERE.
Sarah. You can not have it both ways. You can not have Rhys claim that he is “doing all he can” to defend the Illyrian females and protect them from the violent males in their lives and then simultaneously give us this scene. Keir hates Rhys’s guts and I’m sure would gladly not only refuse every order he gave him, but also run him through with a sword. Does it seem like any bit of this matters in this moment? 
One of the responses to this I stumbled across on Reddit literally floored me. Someone brought up this very argument, that Rhys had more power to control the situation in Illyria if he really wanted to, and I saw several people respond with: “Well, if he literally tried to control them, either through physical intimidation or mind control, then he’d be a tyrant, and that’s not who Rhys is. That’s not who he wants to be. Is that really what you’re suggesting?? You want him to be a tyrant who controls people???”
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Um. . .YES???
Like. . .do these people hear what they’re saying??? Do they understand the concept of “context matters”????. Do I want Rhys to walk around flaunting his power over innocent law abiding citizens of the Night Court who are minding their own business and not hurting anybody? Obviously no. But do I want him to use his power in a meaningful way to punish people who are physically mutating and beating women to death??? Hello??? The lengths some people will go to to defend this man is incredible.
What is the POINT of Rhysand having all this power if he doesn’t use it to defend the good and the innocent??? What is the POINT of him being “tHE mOsT poWERful HiGH lORD in PryTHIAN’S hIsTorY” if he sits on his power while innocent people in his court are being abused under his watch???
Spoilers for Queen of Shadows: To me, this is like someone saying Lysandra shouldn’t slit Arobynn’s throat in his sleep because it would make her a murderer. Is that what I want??? For Lysandra to be a murderer?? Does the average person deserve to have their throat slit in their sleep?? No. But does Arobynn?? YES. 
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These Illyrian males, if they are behaving in the ways we hear about in the story, DESERVE to have their asses handed to them by Rhysand! They DESERVE whatever punishment comes their way! Don’t want your arm shattered into a million pieces?? Don’t fucking mutilate and beat your wife!!! Easy as that!!
For real change to come about in the Illyrian camps, there needs to be a zero tolerance policy, with public punishment and humiliation, to send a message to everyone that this kind of thing will no longer be tolerated under any circumstances. There needs to be trustworthy people from Rhys’s court stationed there at all times to actually enforce this. I’m not saying that there wouldn't be things that slip past the enforcers, or that Rhys and the Inner Circle have the power to actually change the will and opinions of the males who do this kind of thing. They almost certainly won’t gain any respect from these males. But at the end of the day, it’s very simple. You don’t have to like it, or us, but you WILL stop partaking in this behavior. If you don’t, your consequence is going to be so severe you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it. 
One might ask, This seems pretty straightforward, why hasn’t Rhys attempted anything like this already?? If these males are willing to commit such evil deeds, why even waste his time at all with them? Who CARES if they go rogue and refuse to fight for him anymore? Could it possibly be because he needs the Illyrian soldiers as the main component of his armies? He doesn’t want to outwardly anger these war generals so strongly that they no longer cooperate or associate with him? 
So, what you’re saying is. . .Rhys turns a blind eye to female abuse in his court . .because he needs the might from these people in his armies.
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If I’m wrong and you have a rebuttal, I’m all ears. But I’m not really sure what other conclusion I’m supposed to arrive at. Rhys CAN control, humiliate, and intimidate powerful people who go against him. But he’s choosing not to do it here. . .why? Because controlling and intimidating people is bad?? Even if it’s directed towards those who are killing and mutilating innocent people?? I don’t understand and I don’t think I ever will. 
Honestly, I thought the reason Illyria was being left as such a mess was deliberately done, because that was what Nesta’s story and arc was going to revolve heavily around. When they announced in that teaser way back in 2018 that she was going with Cassian to train in the Illyrian mountains, I was fully convinced that that was how she was going to “find herself”, by changing the lives of the Illyrian women and empowering them. I thought she would be a major catalyst in whatever happened there. And. . .that’s not what happened. Maybe that part of the story is still yet to be told, maybe she’s saving it for Azriel’s book or something. . .who knows. For the time being, I guess it’s just there for aesthetics, so the Bat Boys can have a tragic backstory. Still, even if it DOES change in later books, I would still be left wondering why Rhys, who Sarah claims is as different from the other High Lords as humans are to fae, didn’t do something about it sooner. 
On the subject of Illyrians, let’s talk about Feyre and her shape-shifted Illyrian wings for a minute. I’m sure everyone knows what I’m going to say, and you might argue that this is a critique of Feyre’s character and not Rhys’s. I both agree and disagree with that and to explain my reasoning, we’re going to have to back up a little bit. 
I made a post a couple years ago about how Feyre’s title as High Lady holds no real weight in the ACOTAR world and is nothing more than a fancy title and a sign of respect from her husband. Which is admirable in it’s own right, but it’s not truly what all the stans make it out to be. It’s stated as canon fact in the series that the High Lord is determined by whoever this mystical force (is it supposed to be The Mother? I don’t even know) in each court chooses. It’s not a monarchy. If I don’t like my High Lord, I can’t go out and kill him and declare myself the new High Lord. The magic of the court decides who it is. That’s how you end up having people like Tamlin, who have no desire to be High Lord become one. 
Anyway, all of this means that Feyre is NOT equal in power to Rhys, no matter what title he gives her. Let’s pretend their dumb-ass suicide pact doesn’t exist and Feyre can live on if he were to die. If Rhys were to die, Feyre wouldn't continue on as the magical High Lady ruler of the Night Court, while they all just did without a High Lord. The magic would select someone else to be the High Lord, with no regard for her. Feyre is only “High Lady” because Rhys says she is. She has no magical tie to the Night Court. She is a ruler in title only.
Don’t like it? Doesn’t sound very feminist?? Yeah, I’d agree. And for some insane reason, TAMLIN is blamed for the lack of High Ladies in Prythian rather than, uh. . .the woman who created the magic system that made it this way!!! 
(Seriously, the fact that Tamlin is shit on for telling Feyre there are no High Ladies is asinine. Tamlin is not giving personal commentary, he is stating fact. Remember how shocked everyone is when the IC shows up to the High Lord’s meeting in ACOWAR and Rhys announces that Feyre is High Lady? There AREN’T any High Ladies of Prythian! But in ACOMAF, SJM has Rhys tell Feyre that there absolutely are. This is what I mean when I say SJM makes Rhys say and do completely nonsensical things simply for the sake of inflating him as a character. Logic doesn’t have to enter the conversation, if it makes him look good, that’s all that matters. Even if it directly contradicts something SHE wrote!!! It’s mind blowing, honestly). 
Wow, I got REALLY side tracked!! Anyway, you get the point: Feyre’s role as High Lady is really just a fancy title with no true magical tie behind it. But despite this, she is still Rhys’s wife, and therefore a certain level of respect is expected to be given to her. 
And if I were an Illyrian female, I’d find it REAL hard to conjure up any of that respect. 
In my opinion, SJM is guilty of not truly writing these characters with the scope that their immortality entails. Feyre is physically mature and an adult by human standards. But what constitutes an “adult” by fae standards? The IC is collectively thousands of years old. I find it hard to believe that they wouldn't have a hard time seeing someone in their early twenties as someone super young and naive. Especially if this someone wasn’t born a fae and was only transformed into one within the past couple years. 
Think about it. . .how many times have you had a conversation with someone who is older than you, maybe by generations, maybe by just several years and they’ve made comments about how young you are, or how “one day you’ll feel differently” or “one day you’ll understand”. They speak with a wisdom that they claim comes from simply existing longer and going through phases of life you haven’t reached yet. 
Now imagine somehow being over 500 years old and interacting with someone who is 21. They’d be an infant to you!! 
My point in saying this isn’t necessarily to say that I think Feysand’s relationship is creepy because he’s so much older than her. It’s really to say that, as I’ve stated, you can’t really hold Rhys and Feyre accountable in the same way as far as being high fae leaders goes. She hasn’t been alive even a fraction of the amount of time he has and she wasn’t born a fae. This isn’t her fault and I don’t think it’s something she should necessarily be disrespected for. She’s definitely smart and capable of making her own observations and decisions but at the end of the day, I don’t think you can really argue that it falls back on Rhys to help to guide and navigate her through this political life they lead. Rhys had been leading a country for 500 years by the time Feyre was shitting in diapers. Their experience is NOT the same. 
So at the end of the day, I think that Feyre’s use of Illyrian wings says as much about Rhys as it does about her. 
Imagine the pain and the anger you would feel as an Illyrian woman to see your so-called “High Lady” flaunting the wings you were born with and using them to escape to the freedom of the skies, something you had been denied of against your will. She knows nothing of the trials and tribulations you face each day, the abuse you endure. She was not born into your culture, nor does she take the time to try and help you, or get to know you, or learn about you. But she shifts the Illyrian wings onto her back and takes to the sky to do really important things like have sexual intercourse with the High Lord above the most populated city in the court, while you remain trapped on the ground. Imagine the anger you’d feel at your so-called High Lord, who allows his new wife to flutter around Velaris on perfect un-maimed wings, while claiming he wants to advocate for and protect you but does the bare minimum. 
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To be clear: I most certainly hold Feyre accountable for this thoughtless decision. She is more than capable of deciding for herself what she feels is right and wrong. But as I’ve stated, I have a really hard time not also putting part of the blame on Rhys here. As I established, Feyre was not born into fae culture and she is a child compared to most of the fae living in the Night Court. Rhys, on the other hand, is over 500 years old, has Illyrian culture in his bloodline, and has been living among these people, leading them, for almost his entire life. I’d like to think he’d have the foresight to pull Feyre aside and explain to her that while she may not have initially considered it, it could be viewed as disrespectful and offensive for the Illyrian women to see her gallivanting around with Illyrian wings when most of theirs have been clipped. 
If I were an Illyrian women, I think it would be nearly impossible for me not to feel a strong bitterness towards Feyre and Rhysand. One could make the argument that Feyre is young and naive and doesn’t truly understand Illyrian culture. The same argument could NOT be said about Rhys. 
So thanks, High Lord, for flapping around shiny happy Velaris with your wife and her fake Illyrian wings, having kinky Illyrian wing sex, while doing the bare minimum to help and protect the women who were actually BORN with Illyrian wings. 
Alright, moving on from that mess, let’s touch on the Court of Nightmares. 
Now, a lot of what I have to say here is going to be the same as what I said about Illyria. But honestly, I feel like this place gets the even shorter end of the stick. 
One of the most truly bizarre things to me in the ACOTAR series is this idea that the people of Hewn City/the Court of Nightmares are somehow just all evil malicious wicked people who are happy to live sequestered in this underground kingdom. This is a super weird notion and I’m not sure at all how Sarah validates it. Especially when a character like Mor exists. You’re telling me she was the only “dreamer” born into the Court of Nightmares? No one else is suffering the way she was? I don’t get it. 
I’ve heard the argument made before that it’s quite possible that this kind of wickedness is specific only to Mor’s family. I’ve heard people say that we’ve never really seen anything in the Court of Nightmares other than the household she grew up in. So it’s actually quite plausible, people say, that the rest of the court is just a normal court, there’s no evidence to suggest that this kind of abuse is happening among the entire group of people. (They claim we are “reaching” for things to blame Rhys for). 
Yeah, NO. Sorry, that’s just a willfully stupid take. Here’s what we hear about this place from ACOMAF:
“The nobility of the Night Court fall into one of three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they joined her court and later found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have since tolerated a half-breed’s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.”
“Are they--are they the ones who live beneath the mountain?”
A nod. “In the Hewn City, yes. I gave it to them, for not being fools. They’re happy to stay there, rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.” 
That was the court he must have shown Amarantha when she first arrived--and its wickedness must have pleased her enough that she modeled her own after it. (pages 175-176)
Not enough to convince you? Here’s Mor explaining it in her own words:
“In the Court of Nightmares,” she went on, that voice falling soft and a bit cold once more, “females are. . .prized. Our virginity is guarded, then sold off to the highest bidder--whatever male will be of the most advantage to our families.”
‘I was born stronger than anyone in my family. Even the males. And I couldn’t hide it, because they could smell it--the same way you can smell a High Lord’s Heir before he comes to power. The power leaves a mark, an. . .echo. When I was twelve, before I bled, I  prayed it meant no male would take me as a wife, that I would escape what my elder cousins had endured: loveless, sometimes brutal, marriages.”
“But then I began bleeding a few days after I turned seventeen. And the moment my first blood came, my power awoke in full force, and even that gods-damned mountain trembled around us. But instead of being horrified, every single ruling family in the Hewn City saw me as a prize mare. Saw that power and wanted it bred into their bloodline, over and over again.”
Is everyone sufficiently convinced now? Okay great. 
And Rhys, by his own omission, allows them to “rule themselves” as a reward for not being foolish enough to challenge HIS authority.
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But do they REALLY rule themselves?? Take a second and scroll back up to read the excerpt I already included where Keir calls Feyre a whore and Rhys absolutely wrecks him. Who does it seem like is really in charge here? 
I’m sorry, I get viscerally angry over this. In the Court of Nightmares scene, Keir is written 100% completely and totally as Rhysand’s groveling little bitch. He is literally nothing compared to Rhys. Rhys is total power and domination. Seriously:
He led me the few steps onto the dais--to the throne. He sat, smiling faintly at his monstrous court. He owned every inch of the throne. These people. (page 409)
Before Rhys, Keir was nothing more than a sullen child. Yet I knew Mor’s father was older. Far older. The Steward clung to power, it seemed. 
Rhys was power. (page 411) 
This entire scene honestly disgusts me and is so stupid. Rhys swaggers in and the entire throne room drops to one knee in submission. It’s told over and over that he exudes raw power that no one there can even hope to compete with. We’re told he “owns” the people, that Keir is nothing more than a child compared to him. He snaps his fingers and orders Keir to bring Feyre wine and he does it! Mor calls Rhys “Your High Lord” when speaking to Keir. Keir “grovels” when Rhys suggests that the wine he brought them is poisoned. And then the ordeal where he starts shattering bones in his arm one at a time, forbidding him from seeking any healing on pain of death, eventually knocking him out. 
SO IF THIS IS THE CASE. . .WHY. TOLERATE. KEIR. AT. ALL????????????????
If this is how easy it is to control this man, why on EARTH is he given one INCH of control in this place???? The whole scene loses its meaning entirely. . .why do they need to STEAL this orb from him?? In ACOWAR, why does Rhys need to BARGAIN with him about the use of his armies??? (at the expense of Mor’s feelings and security!!!!) Why are these people ALLOWED to treat females the way they treated Mor??!? 
There are two answers here and both of them are shitty:
Option 1) SJM just wants to write scenes to fulfill her dark!Rhys fetish. She needs the Court of Nightmares for her Rhys aesthetic. That’s where the true reason for scenes like this begin and end. She wants to write scenes where we all marvel and swoon at Rhys’s “raw power”. We don’t need logic, it has no place here. We’re supposed to ignore everything else and just swoon over Rhys, as usual. We’re not really supposed to think too hard about Keir because he’s literally just a prop that is there for the purpose of having Rhys flex his power. It’s the epitome of wanting to have your cake and eat it too. She wants all aspects of what makes Rhys sexy and doesn’t care how she makes it happen. She wants the hot, powerful, wicked High Lord we got to see in ACOTAR, but she also wants the saint she made him out to be in the rest of the series. So we’re just supposed to ignore the fact that in making it plainly obvious that he is able to control these people means that he should be able to apply this to making innocent people’s lives better down there but isn’t. 
Option 2) Rhys is deliberately allowing the wickedness and evil behavior to continue to put on a front for the rest of the world. He says that the Court of Nightmares is the version the outside world gets to see of the Night Court. It’s how Amarantha came to design her own court with it as an inspiration. It’s why everyone has such a negative view of the Night Court. Rhys is praised by the IC and pitied by much of the fandom for the “sacrifice” he makes in putting on this evil front and lets the world believe of him, in order to protect his “true” court--the Court of Dreams, the City of Starlight. I’m sorry, what sacrifice???? What is Rhys sacrificing of himself by doing this? He sits on his throne in total control and power while others grovel at his feet. I’m supposed to feel sorry for him that his reputation is being tarnished by the rest of the world seeing this while people like Mor are having nails driven into their bodies because they went against their family’s wishes regarding their virginity and marriage??? No, I’m sorry. The only people I feel sorry for are the people he is doing this on the backs of. Because the fact of the matter is: Rhys needs an evil court to put on this show for the rest of the world. And you can not have evil people without evil deeds. And you can not have evil deeds without victims. Evil people are evil because of their actions to other people. 
So Option 2 is. . .Rhys is allowing people to be abused in the Court of Nightmares and not putting a stop to it because he needs an “Evil Court” smokescreen to protect his REAL court. 
Again. . .do you see why I have such a hard time liking him???
Also, after ACOMAF the whole world knows about Velaris anyway. So there’s no need for a smokescreen evil court anymore. But has anything changed?? NOPE. 
Not only that. . .but if this is the face he puts on for the people of the Hewn City, this is who most of the people there probably believe him to truly be. If another female, or anyone else really, is in a horrible situation like Mor’s, what would make them think that Rhys is someone they could approach or reach out to for help? They're probably terrified of him! The whole situation is just so fucked up and awful. 
What’s also fucked up and awful is the fact that while all of this exists in both Illyria and the Hewn City, Rhys has a shelter/sanctuary in Velaris for abused women. Sorry, get your fake feminism out of here. You can’t stick that detail into the story and expect it to erase blatant abuse of women happening in two thirds of Rhysand’s court. . .under his watch!!!!! When he has the power to stop it!!! 
I’ve heard many people try and make the claim that Rhys is written to be contradictory in this way to prove that he is a “morally gray character” and to that, I call total bullshit. For one, allowing the blatant abuse of women when you have the power to stop it isn’t “morally gray” , its borderline irredeemable. And two, I’ve said it before. . .listen to SJM talk about Rhys. Read the ACOTAR series. This woman is so far up his butthole, I’m wondering if he somehow offered her her own riverfront mansion. She honestly believes him to be God’s gift to humanity!! 
So again, we’re back to my same age-old question: Is SJM a good writer or a bad writer?? I don’t really think it’s as simple as sticking one word on her writing to label it one way or the other. As I said, I’ve gotten immense enjoyment out of some of Sarah’s work and have been blown away by the places she takes her characters and stories. But in this case. . .it’s objectively awful. You’re giving me this character who you’re constantly telling me is good and righteous and incredible, beating me over the head with the level of worship he gets by the narrative, but then you’re making him do things that are like really blatantly terrible. And he faces NO accountability for it! Like???? You are the author??? You can control the things he does?? If you really believe that he’s that great, why don’t you just write him that way??? Why beat us over the head with how great he is, only to make him do awful things and then completely ignore them?? I’m telling you, it’s almost bizarre. . .like she’s seeing just how far she can go with what people will excuse. It's mind boggling!! 
(Honestly what’s even more mind boggling is the sheer number of people who lap this up and accept it completely. For the life of me, I can not understand how people are so blind to this stuff!) 
You can’t have it both ways, Sarah. You can’t tell us Rhys is the most powerful high lord ever born and expect me to believe that there’s nothing more he can do for Illyrian females and the “dreamers” of the Court of Nightmares. Especially when we’ve seen him demonstrate otherwise! Like I said earlier. . .if he’s not using his power for good, what is even the point of it?? 
So, to sum up: We are told over and over again how utterly powerful and incomparable Rhys is as well as what an honorable and giving High Lord he is. We see raw power displays from him where he swiftly and forcefully exerts brutal punishment on those who offend or go against him without so much as breaking a sweat. Despite this, he adopts a passive view on the Illyrians, banning wing clipping and the mistreatment of females but not doing anything to really enforce it, and continues to allow females in the Court of Nightmares to be abused and brutalized because he needs his evil Night Court aesthetic to protect the IC and Velaris. 
My Ick Factor is OFF THE CHARTS. 
And let me just end by saying….try and picture our Queen and Savior, Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius allowing the mutilation and abuse of women in Terrasen because “change is slow to happen”….and she needed some armies. AELIN WOULD NEVER.
It is a dream of mine to see her humble Rhys.
So, yeah. . .Rhys is a terrible High Lord. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
Part 3 is probably my most highly anticipated rant---we’ll call it “Let’s Talk About Tamlin”. Coming soon! 
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taylrartz · 1 year
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Feyre and Rhys in the Court of Nightmares😈✨😘
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Can be found with all my other drawings on insta as well @taylrartz 🫶🥰
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honeybeefae · 1 year
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A Mouse in a Cage (Azriel Imagine)
I've got a tiny little imagine for y'all, I know it's been a while so forgive me for any errors! (I hope I've still got it lol)
(This could work for a multitude of characters but I'm gonna write this for Azriel because I think it just fits perfectly.)
Imagine...
"Please, please don't do this!" You cry out from behind the makeshift gag that was shoved into your mouth.
The three men, one of them being your father, ignored your pleas and continued tying you up to the giant altar that loomed above one of the dungeons in the Court of Nightmares. You tried to thrash and fight, tears flowing hot down your reddened cheeks from their earlier beating, but it was as if you were a rabbit caught in a snare.
"Stop it, girl." Your father sneered, grabbing a fistful of your hair so that you were staring up at him. "This is of your own doing."
You protested once more, trying to proclaim your innocence but he wasn't interested in the truth. No, your father was only concerned about the image of the family and the embarrassment you had caused.
A mistake that apparently could only be righted by your death.
Once they had made sure everything was secured, they made a hasty retreat to the door. The mountains above you quaked and the shadows themselves seemed to hide as whatever monster awaited you grew closer.
"I would begin praying now that the Mother take pity on you, child." Your father called from the darkness, a single candle barely illuminating his face. The only feature you could make out was his cruel smirk. "I'll be praying for it as well...consider it the last act of a father's love."
The words struck deep, deeper than any physical beating you had ever felt. He didn't wait to watch even more tears flow as he followed the other two, leaving you in complete darkness.
As a child, you had been afraid of the dark, of what could be watching you, but now it was the only company you had. The cold dampness of the dungeons seemed to stick to your skin as you recited your prayers to the Mother, hanging your head in defeat with every cry of the other prisoners being tortured by Rhysand's monster.
His reputation was known throughout Prythian, how the shadows bent to his will while his dagger made everyone else do the same. You had never seen him, never wanted to, but fate was funny in that way.
What you tried to ignore would now be the thing that struck you from this life.
You couldn't stop your breath from gasping when you heard the cell beside you grow quiet. Was it your turn? Had the Spymaster had enough for today?
The overwhelming fear of the unknown was causing you to go into another panic attack, your thoughts bouncing around the ever-closing box you were trapped in which made you struggle to breathe.
It was getting worse with every passing second. You couldn't hear, couldn't feel, it was as if you were already dead.
Shadows swirled at the front of the room as a large, winged figure stepped through but you were too consumed by your own dread to pay attention.
The dark form cocked its head in intrigue at you, studying you closely while twirling its trusty dagger between its fingers. It was only when you seemed to be on the brink of insanity that it stepped forward and captured your face between its scarred fingers, illuminating the room so that you could see what was waiting for you.
You squinted and blinked rapidly at the change of light, the sudden change making you snap out of your delusions momentarily. When you finally adjusted to your surroundings, you found yourself face to face with the Illyrian warrior who haunted everyone's dreams.
His amber eyes gave nothing away, his grip steadfast as you trembled underneath him. The prayers you had chanted seemed to be all for naught as you caught a glimpse of his weapon.
"What are you doing here?" His gruff voice asked, sounding like he had not spoken aloud in years. "A little mouse like you shouldn't be down here with the rats."
Shocked was plainly written over your face as his jaw clenched, eyeing the bruises and marks that littered your body. You couldn't find it in you to respond to him, assuming this was some sick game he played before carving you up.
"Well?" The Spymaster pressed, raising an eyebrow. All you could do was watch him fearfully, your tears even too scared to fall past the corner of your eyes.
But just as he raised up his other hand to do Mother knows what, you hoarsely whispered, "Please." As your last call for mercy for a punishment that did not fit the crime.
And when he heard it, heard you, that dreaded monster stopped in his tracks as his eyes turned soft. Something in him seemed to spark at your voice, the shadows that curled around him suddenly reaching out to you in strong interest.
"I won't hurt you." He said slowly as if speaking to a caged animal. "Never."
After all the stories you had heard about him, all the people you saw quake in fear from just his name, you would think that you would have enough common sense to not trust his words but just as something snapped in him, it snapped in you as well.
It was like a light at the end of the tunnel, a hand reaching out just as you were on the verge of drowning. You didn't know what exactly awaited you on the other side but you knew it was meant for you.
He saw the change immediately. He could feel the trust you had just bestowed upon him and while he would he relish in it later, the gravity of the situation returned back to the forefront of his mind.
His eyes turned dark as his shadows curled tightly around his body once more, one of his hands gripping the base of his dagger tightly as he titled your head once more and said in a deep, terrifying voice, "Who did this to you?"
(EEEEEEE okay I hope this is okay??? It's a warmup for sure but I kinda like it ngl. I love you guys and hope this hits you guys the same way it did me. <3)
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bxriles · 7 months
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Sooo I’m considering writing a fic about two Hewn City siblings where the sister entered into a political marriage with Rhysand (pre ACOTAR of course) and where the brother starts a rebellion after his sister mysteriously dies once Rhysand makes it known that he has a mate…
Thoughts?? Would anyone even read that? I really just want an excuse to practice my writing skills tbh and I think it would be fun to write Rhys as a true villain from another perspective.
Plus I want to explore the concept of how the dreamers in the Court of Nightmares felt being abandoned by their High Lord.
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kataraavatara · 15 days
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do y’all think that there are hewn city citizens who were born, lived their whole lives, and then died without ever seeing sunlight or the stars once. because they are literally trapped under the mountain, no? Mor was allowed outside apparently but by ACOWAR this exchange happens:
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so they’re trapped inside of a mountain and can’t get out? how horribly claustrophobic. how confusing and scary for a little child.
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bloomingdarkgarden · 8 months
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C O U R T O F N I G H T M A R E S | A Dark Autumn Evening
For @anon
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hostofdaffodils · 2 months
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why is no one talking about how Thanatos is the name of a Lord in the Court of Nightmares and Apollion has powers of darkness and leathery wings??
The Princes of Hel are SO Night Court/Illyrian coded, and I have so many theories about the connections
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fauxdette · 3 months
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N E S S I A N • H E W N • C I T Y
A Court of Silver Flames [Chapter 37]
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dreamsandstars24 · 1 month
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I have the feeling that Rhys and Gwyn are going to have a very strong bond but they will have a huge fight regarding Azriel.
I have the feeling that Gwyn is going to realize how much the IC ignores and dumps the worst jobs on him (and she is also going to realize that he accepts those jobs because he is scared that if he says no, then he'll be rejected and forgotten) and she is going to be furious about it.
I hope it happens after Azriel comes back from a mission hurt, I hope Gwyn hears one of them say "He always does this kind of stuff", I hope she screams and shouts at them how awful they are to him and how they don't deserve him .
I hope Rhys gets riled up and then proceeds to go on a full on word battle with an acolyte, I hope Gwyn won't hold back and I hope she makes the IC realize that they are exploiting Azriel and using them.
I hope it hurts them.
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