I know I said I’d stop talking about these fucking novels, but I need to no-so-nicely roast Rhysand and Feyre as a couple because somebody has to say it! And it will be me! (I need everyone to know I keep writing about these books after midnight and deranged.)
Firstly, I need everyone to know that I ADORE Feyre. For all her chaos, trauma responses, artistic spiral moments, and “girl, what are you doing” decisions she is still my beloved confused-queen protagonist. But the storyline she got? The relationship arc she was locked into? Rhysand and Feyre is, objectively and not respectfully, one of the most boring, predictable, isolation-heavy, codependent bundles of glitter I’ve ever seen marketed as an “epic romance.”
Insults aside, the dynamic feels less like a partnership of equals and more like Feyre being absorbed into Rhysand’s pre-existing world, family, politics, moral structures, and basically everything except her own independent identity. This woman literally crosses into the Night Court and suddenly... who is she allowed to know?
No one outside his Inner Circle. His court. His family. His people. His opinions. His goals. His friends. His mansion. His trauma processing schedule.
I’m sorry, but if your relationship eliminates your entire social universe and repopulates it with your partner’s handpicked entourage, that’s not romance that’s onboarding. And don’t get me wrong. Rhysand is pretty, purple-eyed, and very emotionally literate when he feels like it. Great for him, love that. But he also manages to dim Feyre the way a bad lighting washes you out, she becomes smaller, quieter, more reactive. Less Feyre, more “Feyre, Rhysand’s live-In symbol of his personal growth.”
And listen if (hear me: IF) she has to have a romance at all because truly, Feyre thriving single in her own home, painting in a sunlit room free from everybody’s Schemes would have been a fascinating, underrated route, there were better options in plain sight.
And if Sarah J. Maas wanted Feyre to be a High Lady so desperately? Tarquin was right there, sparkling like a politically convenient tide jewel, offering her the chance to build something new instead of moving permanently into her boyfriend’s pre-furnished power structure. (ALSO NO WEIRD FAE AGE GAP!) With Tarquin, Feyre wouldn’t dim. She’d expand.
They look good on paper and in practice! Tarquin and Feyre actually complement each other. He’d respect her autonomy without drowning her in purple sparks and destiny speeches. He’s curious about her. She inspires him. He challenges her worldview without needing to dominate it. Tarquin is the one man in Prythian who talked to Feyre like she was a partner, not a project, not a symbol, not a destined cosmic puzzle piece. A partner. He sees her talent, her power, her trauma, her ambition and he doesn’t want her to fold her into his pre-existing family drama or centuries-old secrets. He asks her questions. He’s curious, open-hearted, politically intelligent without being manipulative, and genuinely interested in what she stands for. Calm meets creative, idealism meets practicality, ambition meets gentleness. He would have offered her newness. A new court, new friendships, new identity and zero pressure to become the emotional backbone of his entire entourage.
And then there’s Lucien, my personal favorite for Feyre. Their personalities don’t just complement each other, they pressure test each other. Lucien challenges Feyre in ways that actually force her to grow outward instead of inward. There’s friction, accountability, emotional honesty, banter that doesn’t feel pre-scripted, and zero “my entire world must revolve around your court politics” energy.
Lucien is the exact combination of grounding energy, emotional honesty, and “I will call you out but also hold your hand through the meltdown afterward” that Feyre desperately needed but absolutely never got. He doesn’t pedestal her. He doesn’t treat her like a prophesied ornament. He doesn’t enfold her into a ready-made social bubble. He sees her as a person, messy, imperfect, stubborn, occasionally feral, and he respects the hell out of that. He’s warm where she’s cool, sharp where she’s soft, diplomatic where she’s brash, and chaotic where she’s trying to hold it together. They balance each other in that “we’ve survived trauma and we refuse to let it define us” way.
Plus? The chemistry potential is absolutely feral. Opposites attract. But only when the writing allows both sides to remain themselves. They share survivor energy, accountability, maturity, and the ability to argue without reenacting a Shakespearean tragedy. The tension? Immaculate. The potential growth arc? Delicious. The chemistry? INSANE.
At the end of the day, Feyre deserved a storyline that let her be more than the Night Court’s artistic emotional-support emissary. She deserved relationships, romantic or otherwise, that expanded her instead of shrinking her. She deserved a life of her own, not a curated friend group pre-approved by her love interest. She deserved a romance that let her breathe. She deserved a narrative that let her shine. And yes, she is still my favorite. My sweet, chaotic, self-sacrificing, savior complex, half-feral, paint-splattered queen. I just wish her character hadn’t been written into a corner labeled of “Rhysand’s forever soulmate.” Because she had a real, compelling, narratively rich potential with characters like Tarquin or Lucien, who would have let her grow into something expansive rather than ornamental.
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