#protamlin

I know that there's plenty of theories about Rhysand possibly being Valg. But this scene I just read !!!!!!

When Maeve forces Aelin to bow, the moment it just identical to when Rhysand made Tamlin bow for Feyre’s life in the first ACOTAR book.

It’s not just the act itself it’s the dynamic: the calculated humiliation, the forced submission. Once I read it I immediately remembered Rhysand and Tamlin

I really do try to look at Tamlin as critically as I can. So I don't know if or when I'm being a little delusional in opinions.

Anyway, Rhysand said that Tamlin did nothing for the 50 years and UTM. Feyre says that she wanted Tamlin to fight for her and that instead, he crawled to Amarantha and begged for her forgiveness. Tamlin spent 3 months watching Feyre go through trials and in one of those trials, watched the love of his life and his best friend (and brother basically) almost die because Feyre couldn't read. He sat (sort of) and watched because fighting wasn't doing much for him anymore.

Fast forward to the end of acomaf but more acowar specifically, we learn Tamlin makes a deal with King of Hybern to get Feyre back after Lucien's failed mission to retrieve her from Illyria. This alliance is often seen as a rather idiotic approach from Tamlin especially after we spend so much time in Feyre's mind. However my view or question is: isn't Tamlin's deal with the King of Hybern not a direct attempt at action and more specifically, a correction due to everything that happened UTM and during the 50 years? Is this not a sign of his character doing the thing he was originally criticized for? Not taking action?

Rhysand was Amarantha's right hand for those 50 years. No one knew what he was busy plotting. No one knew until he admits it to Feyre. Not even the Inner Circle knew the extent of what Rhysand was dealing with. So then how or why should Tamlin have known that Feyre was doing better and to leave her be? To a Daemati??

I think my fundamental thing about displays of love in romance is that sometimes it's well and truly tragic and maddening. To Tamlin, the longer she remains in Rhysand's arms, the closer she might be to death or worse. He fails her again by letting the bargain continue. Like what are you willing to do at that point if not beg the devil? When she comes back the first time, he literally scans her body head to toe, muttering to himself that she's okay. When Rhysand takes her on their wedding day (that wasn't going well), he begs Rhysand not to, tells him that he'll give him whatever he wants in exchange for the bond being broken.

A Deeper Meaning Behind His Instrument Choice

One of the most fascinating yet often under hyped details in ACOTAR is the fact that Sarah J. Maas specifically chose the fiddle as Tamlin’s instrument. Of all the possible musical choices, why a fiddle? I think this decision speaks volumes about his character and his deepest desires.

First, let’s clear up a common misconception: the fiddle and the violin are not the same. While they may look alike, their cultural significance and playing styles set them apart. The violin is often associated with classical music, refinement, and royalty it’s the instrument of courts and high society. Meanwhile, the fiddle is raw, lively, and deeply connected to common folk and traditional music. It’s the music of celebration, storytelling, and community rather than aristocracy.

And this is exactly why the fiddle is perfect for Tamlin. He never truly wanted to be a High Lord. He never sought power, political maneuvering, or the weight of ruling. What he craved was freedom a simple, peaceful life where he could just exist among his people,

playing music with them, not above them.

Even in parties, he wasn’t hosting extravagant royal gatherings dripping with status and hierarchy he was participating, playing the fiddle, blending into the moment rather than presiding over it.

Tamlin’s relationship with power and responsibility is complex, but his choice of the fiddle tells us everything we need to know: deep down, he never wanted the crown he wanted the music, freedom, peace.

Okay, let’s start with a confession: do I hate Rhysand? Yeah, obviously I do.

But… do I like the TamSand romance ship even though it’s toxic as hell? Yeah, I won’t lie, I do! but only for one reason. If there’s one trope I love even more than enemies to lovers, it’s: lovers to enemies. (And btw, if you’re into that too, check out Crowns of Nyaxia by Carissa Broadbent or The Auran Chronicles by Wendy Heiss).

Now, this post isn’t even about TamSand as romance. I’m talking about them as potential old friends. Because I don't want to ship them that way in canon so can live my obsession overb the theory that Tamlin was in love with Rhys’s sister. So of course it makes sense to imagine their bond differently. That rivals-to-frenemies energy? I eat that trope up every time. Naruto & Sasuke, Natsu & Gray, Sanji & Zoro, Atsushi & Akutagawa; totally obsessed!! Because it would’ve been amazing to see both of them have that moment of:

“Yeah, I hate you, but we both hate this bigger enemy more, so I’ll stand by you only this once.”

But!!

Here’s why I don’t think (and don’t want) Tamlin and Rhysand to ever truly “make up”:

When Tamlin was at his lowest — his court in ruins, his entire being shattered — what did Rhysand do? Encourage him into suicide!!!

Tamlin literally brought Rhysand back from death, when he had every reason not to. And what does Rhys do? Not only does he refuse to acknowledge it, he actually says he doesn’t care that Tamlin revived him. What kind of ingratitude is lower than that? To look at someone’s pain, the same person who saved your life, and tell them the answer is themselves? That is the lowest of the low.

And honestly, I think a big part of it is this: Rhys can’t stand the fact that he owes everything to Tamlin now.

Because here’s the truth: Rhys would’ve never even found his mate if Tamlin hadn’t brought her into the story. That alone ties his fate to Tamlin’s forever. And then, the ultimate insult? Is again Tamlin saving him from death. Rhys hates that his entire happiness now: his mate, his family, his son. only exists because Tamlin was the bigger man that day.

If the roles were reversed Rhysand wouldn't save anyone from the others high lords and especially Tamlin, and that what upsets him more.

And that’s exactly why, if Tamlin dies, Rhys would’ve mourned him the most. Because deep down, Tamlin is the mirror Rhys can’t stop looking into. They’re two sides of the same coin, and Rhys knows it.

This fanfiction is based on things I’ve always loved to imagine, especially since I’m a big fan of the theory that Tamlin and Rhys's sister were lovers. In this fanfiction, I named her Rosevela (simply because I love that name 😆). Tamlin’s nickname for her is Viola, which comes from Rosevela → violet rose → Violet → Viola. I like it because it matches her violet eyes, and the idea of violets being roses ties in with her name. Anyway, je dis n'importe quoi ! Feel free to read it and share your feedback 🥰.

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TamlinxOC; TamlinxRhys's sister What truly happened to Rhys’s sister? How did Tamlin survive after his family’s death? This story may uncover Tamlin’s life before he became High Lord and how everything changed after. Also it may cover the revenge arc that i want tamlin to have ch2=>ch3=>ch4 AO3 link

In the magnificent Spring Court, amidst magical gardens, Tamlin and Rosevela lay side by side on the soft grass before the Pool of Stars. The golden rays of the setting sun mingled with the silver glow of the rising moon, casting an ethereal shimmer on their skin. They looked almost celestial—the chosen High Lord of Spring and the chosen High Lady of Night—bathed in the combined light of the sun and stars.

Their connection ran deeper than the courts they were supposed to rule. It was a pull, stronger than anything their families or destinies could tear apart, stronger than even a mother's mating bond.

Tamlin's fingers brushed lightly along Rosevela’s arm, a delicate touch full of silent promise. “You look like you belong here, Viola,” he murmured, his voice soft with reverence. “Like you’re one of these stars.”

Rosevela turned her head, her eyes reflecting the starlight above. “And you,” she whispered, her smile tender, “you’re like the earth itself. Strong, steady, and endlessly kind. How did I get so lucky?”

He chuckled softly, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Silence settled between them—not awkward, but the kind that needed no words. Around them, pixies fluttered near the water, their laughter like the tinkling of bells. Little green goblins danced among the plants, adding to the dreamlike scene.

Rosevela sighed contentedly, taking it all in. “It’s so peaceful here. I could live in this quiet forever.” She glanced at him. “How have your brothers never found this place?”

Tamlin’s expression darkened for a moment, but there was a hint of humor in his voice. “Because they hate peace. They thrive in chaos and power. This place is too gentle for them. It’s why we’re safe here, Viola. They’d never think to look for us somewhere like this.”

Her smile faltered. “I wish I could stay here forever,” she whispered. “I hate it at home. My father’s always disappointed in me. Rhys and Cassian treat me like I’m fragile. Azriel… he’s even worse. Sneaking out gets harder every time.”

Tamlin grinned mischievously. “Why don’t you just kick their asses? I’ll help you out, especially with Rhys. I’ve been itching to punch him in the face.”

Rosevela laughed, giving him a playful shove. “Stop it, you goose. They’re still my brothers.”

“And you’re my woman,” he teased, his tone more serious. “I hate it when they underestimate you. You’re the chosen one, more powerful than any of them.”

She sighed again, frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s exactly the problem. I’m the chosen High Lady in a court that still clips Illyrian women’s wings. It’s ridiculous.”

Tamlin’s gaze sharpened. “Has your power grown?”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes. I don’t know what will happen if it becomes obvious to my family.”

“Rhys wouldn’t harm you for that.”

“Not Rhys,” she said, her voice trembling. “But my father… if he knew his heir was a girl…”

Tamlin’s eyes flashed with anger. “Let him try. I’ll—”

“Tamlin, no,” Rosevela interrupted, shaking her head. “Your situation isn’t much better. What about your power? Is your father still suspicious?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s starting to suspect. It’s getting harder to hide.”

They shared a look of understanding, the weight of their responsibilities and dangers pressing heavily upon them.

“Isn’t it ironic,” she said with a sad smile, “that we were both chosen and burdened with powers we never wanted? It feels more like a curse than a blessing.”

“Vela,” Tamlin whispered, his voice filled with emotion and unsure what to say.

Rosevela’s eyes softened, and she placed her hand on his cheek. “Tamlin, nothing keeps us here. Why don’t we just... run away?”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“Neither of us is happy. Our powers, our courts, the rivalry between our families—it’s too much. We could leave it all behind. Find another court, somewhere no one knows us. I could paint, you could play music... We could live however we want.”

“Are you serious?” he asked, his heart pounding.

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” she said, his voice steady. “We could be free, Tam. Truly free.”

His smile faded, worry creeping into her expression. “But we’re the children of High Lords. No court would risk a war to protect us.”

Before she can says anything Tamlin stopped her by placing his index finger on her lips saying “We will never be free no matter where we go in Prythian, so this why we have to leave the whole continent”

Rosevela blinked, stunned. “Leave Prythian?”

“If we’re going to run, we need to do it right,” he said, a smile creeping back onto his face. “We can go anywhere, Viola.”

She hesitated for a long moment, then smiled softly. “If it means being with you, I don’t care where we go.”

"Crossing the humans land is too dangerous" Tamlin warned, his tone turning serious again. “but Hybren it's like the worst way of suicide.”

“Is it because of that vicious red-haired witch who lusts after you?” Rosevela’s eyes glinted. “I’ll break her neck myself.”

Tamlin laughed. “You don’t need to worry about her. You’re the only one I’ve chosen, isn’t that enough?”

“But......... you're right, crossing Hybern, or even the human lands, is risky.” she said.

“We’ll prepare for it. It’ll take time, but we’ll do it.”

She frowned, worry flickering in her gaze. “How much time? If your father’s suspicious, we may not have much left.”

He cupped her face gently, his eyes soft. “Please, Viola. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not trying to be pessimistic, but… what if something happens before we can leave? I feel like everyone and everything is against us even tho the mother. What if… the Mother binds us to someone else?”

“I don’t care about the Mother’s chosen mate for me if it isn’t you,” Tamlin said fiercely. He drew a dagger from his belt, cutting his palm. “I’ll make my own bond.”

He offered her the dagger, his eyes asking for her trust. She hesitated, then nodded, cutting her palm as well. He took her hand, their blood mixing together.

“I, Tamlin, give you, Rosevela, a part of my soul, my magic, my power. If I lose you, I’ll go mad before I ever love another.”

She felt his magic intertwine with hers, his power flowing into her veins. She was bound to him—and to the Spring Court. He had given her everything, without hesitation.

Her heart swelled, words failing her. She hugged him tightly, her head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He had given her everything, and she could only hold him close in return.

“I have the same fears as you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her hair. “But we’ll make a bargain. One stronger than any magic.”

She pulled back, confused. “What kind of bargain?”

“With the Pool of Stars,” he said, glancing at the shimmering water. “It’s said to hold power older than the Cauldron itself.”

Tamlin looked to Rosevela like he wants her to look into his mind and she did. She saw what bargain he want to make, how far he want to go for her. And she accepted it .

She was ready to go with him to whatever land and risk everything, and this bargain is nothing compared to what she is ready to do for him.

Together, they rose and made their way down to the Pool of Stars, their injured palms extended over the shimmering water. Crimson droplets fell, mixing with the starlight reflected on the pool's surface, causing it to glisten with an ethereal glow.

“I, Tamlin, son of the Forest,” he declared, his voice resonating through the stillness of the night.

“And I, Rosevela, daughter of the Stars,” she echoed, her tone laced with solemnity.

“By the gods of this sacred pool, we beseech you,” they chanted in unison, “if one of us falls, let them be reborn as human. And no matter the distance or time, the other shall seek them out, restore their memories, and return them to their fae form. Accept our demand, and in time, we will return to you the glory and power stolen by the Cauldron.”

Their voices dissolved into the night, leaving only the quiet hum of the Pool of Stars. The water rippled, absorbing the magic of their words. A silvery light rose from the pool, enveloping them both. As the light faded, they felt a shift—a writing of the bargain etched in the very air. A constellation of stars traced a glowing mark on Tamlin’s palm, while roses bloomed across Rosevela’s hand.

Though the symbols slowly faded from their skin, they could feel the weight of the bargain anchoring itself deep within their souls. This was no ordinary bargain—this bond was forged by a magic far older, far stronger than anything they had known.

They turned to each other, eyes locking, understanding passing between them. Their fates were now entwined—irrevocably bound. Whatever the future held, they would find one another again, in life, in death, and beyond.

“I promise you,” Tamlin vowed softly, his voice thick with emotion, “I will never love anyone but you.”