#fatemarked

Nesta Archeron 🤝 Rhea Loren

It was something she'd been reminding herself of daily, in an attempt to be a different person, not the monster she'd become ever since the day Cousin Jove had condemned her to a fate she never wanted.

It doesn't matter how much the authors, the characters, or the fandoms try to tell me that Nesta and Rhea are monsters, they're just not. They're my favorite characters in their respective series'.

I understand that Rhea made a lot of mistakes, but to keep throwing around the "She killed Jove!" is just too much. Her cousin had her tortured at sixteen years old and had her branded for life. And she went through all this while pregnant (not that he knew that). But am I supposed to sympathize with him and think Rhea's a monster because she killed the man who had her tortured? I refuse.

Honestly, when she killed him, I was like

RhEa'S eViL

Rhea's heart sank, but she wouldn't make a scene. Wouldn't beg or grovel or weep. Her actions had consequences, and she would face them like a queen, her head held high.

With that being said, Deathmarked is giving me anxiety problems. I'm reading Rhea's story like

He peeked around the corner. If she was aware of his confrontation with her father, or his presence, she gave no indication. She was completely and utterly focused on her arms, which held something in a bundle of bloody rags. The something wasn't moving, wasn't making a sound. Quiet and still.

“Kyla?” Grey said. “Are you hurt?”

Her lips pursed together, clamping off the sound. Her voice was a shattered-glass whisper. “It only matters because it hurts.”

Grey took a step forward, into something wet. Kyla’s blood, sticky, the smell of copper coins flooding his nose.

Kyla’s head turned toward him. Her brow was sweaty, tendrils of hair sticking to her smooth, brown skin. “Do you want to see my beautiful girl?” she asked.

Somewhere a battle continued to rage. It might've been a thousand miles away. A million. He knew he should've felt a level of subconscious fear at seeing the furia again, the ones who took his hand, but they were insubstantial next to the woman before him.

"Are you...are you hurt?” Grey asked.

She shook her head, her hands absently rubbing her belly.

“How are you here?”

A breathy laugh stretched its wings from her lips. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'm guessing you could say the same.”

He couldn't hold back the smile. It was true. She probably wouldn't.

"Your child,” he said, gesturing to her stomach.

Her eyes never left his. “What do you want me to say?"

This sounds like Nesta Archeron to me!