#rewrite!feyre

-One day, Feyre went hunting and found a Dire Wolf. She knows it’s a faerie, there’s been talk about those folks attacking humans lately. Feyre also knows that the Dire Wolf would sell for lots of coin. Faerie or not. Her family gave her questionable looks. But no one objected. Father goes to make trade and get Feyre new boots. (I imagine Nesta and Elain give him their spare coins) Feyre thinks her heart may shatter like ice at the simple gesture. And it reminds her that she’s thought of/loved. <3

-Then the beast attacked. Feyre tried to fight. So did Nesta to her surprise. But, Feyre is taken away under the same “Treaty” circumstances.

Feyre thinks it bullshit. Which confused her, because faeries can’t lie… still she listens to her gut that believes there’s something more happening. (She would call them out on it: “thats stupid.” And Tamlin would be tweaking at how rude and blunt she is.)

Tamlin/Lucien confront that she killed a faerie. Feyre has no shame, only anger of in justice broiling in her veins:

“I didn’t know it was some fae folk! Why wassit a wolf durin’ winter? Ya’ll are suppose’ta be clever.”

She would argue. Try to convince these fae that their fine luxuries had warped their minds. And if anything, It was a necessary kill and nothing more.

-Feyre is more nosy. She talks with the lesser faeries a lot, because they kinda remind her of the town folk at home.

“Why ya’lls always wearin’ masks?” Ect. Ect. She feels it in her bones that these faeries were hiding something. And thinks the servants, especially with Feyre being a low born (now), can fish for a connection. Or maybe make herself seem too insignificant and not a threat. (Basically good at manipulating people. She’s not a hero in this re-imagining. She’s just a girl wanting to survive.)

Side note: She is definitely prejudice towards faeries for a while. Mostly in her internal monologue. For instance: Tamlin and Lucien are objectively attractive. However, Feyre finds it as a trap, like everything else in Prythian. It’s like the stories of fair folk luring kids with candy. Only for those kids to be eaten ect ect.

-Feyre doesn’t fall in love. She doesn’t fall for the dates in glens, at lakes of starlight, and room of books/paintings. To her, she can never see past: “He’s a faerie, of the Highest nobility. Why the fuck is he courting a human?”

She find him to be a good companion though.

“He’s a nice man,” she would say, “Good home, foods, clothes…”

I also think it’s too flowery of an idea from a girl who grew up in poverty. A girl who lived in a poor town where people were dying left and right slowly or otherwise.

Also, no one is allowed to choose how, when, or where they die. Another example would be all the sentinels Tamlin sent over the Wall, for them to die in a forest, and most likely be skinned.

But at the end of the day, I think Feyre would agree that a swift death is better than a slow one.

I wish Feyre had the idea of “Memento Mori”. (Remember you must die. It’s even used in the Crescent City Trilogy ) An idea that Rhysand would reflect too. In the book, he is shown to have killed many people quickly, as a mercy. Like Clare Beddor and that one Summer Court faerie UTM.

Then Feyre recognizes it as a mercy kill.

She finds it odd. I believe she would initially think of Rhysand like a cat who plays with his food first. Him exhibiting similar patterns of violence as Amarantha. Or so she thought.

Animals do not give out merciful killings.

“What game are you playing at?” She would ask him.

“A very long and tiresome game, Feyre.” Rhysand throws back a goblet of wine. “One where everyone is easily expendable, much like you.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes. “Faerie cunt. Give me straight answer.”

I also wish she was more bold. Less polite because she long lost her care for being classy. I also think the theme of “love” for Feyre wouldn’t suit her, if she was more of a huntress, because Feyre just wouldn’t think of it.

Love isn’t useful. Love will not keep her alive. Love will not put food in her belly or give her clothes

“Tamlin’s a nice man. Food’s good.”

“Food’s good,” Rhys said. “So, if I were to offer you food, would you be my Champion instead?”

“Food, clothes, roof, bed, an’ bath,” Feyre corrected. “Loyalty with price. No, you don’t give clothes. This is not cloth or fur or leathers.” She gestured to the sheer thing wrapped around her. If it were any colder under this rock, Feyre thought she’d get frostbite. “It’s a joke. I am a joke to you an’ those folks.”