I’ve been pondering what Feyre saw in the Ouroboros Mirror. What parts of herself did the Mirror drag up from the darkest depths of her soul and make her face? What was Feyre forced to come to terms with in order to save Prythian, her friends, her family, and court? What did she learn to love? And what does the beast have to do with anything?
I think Feyre had more to come to terms with than anyone else in Prythian. Yet she overcame it. She decided not to let her own soul destroy her.
I believe she had to watch her younger self wring the neck of a tiny rabbit as it screamed in pain—her first kill. Feyre watched from the snow-shrouded trees as an ash arrow imbedded itself in the side of large wolf, an unprovoked shot of pure hatred. The Ouroboros would have shown in graphic detail everything that occurred UtM—the dancing and drinking that made her feel filthy, the unsolved riddled that made her relive her shortcomings, and the unbearable murder of two innocent fae. The families of those two innocent souls as they raged and mourned and crumpled in weary misery. They had come so close to freedom, but the price to pay had been their loved one. Feyre had taken it from them.
The Mirror would have swirled with images and flashes of Tamlin, Lucien, Elain, Nesta…all those Feyre felt she had betrayed or let down in some way, whether it was deserved or not. Her conversations with Ianthe as she ignorantly shared every detail about her human family and their estate, then the moment her sisters stumbled through the door in Hybern, and were shoved into the Cauldron, Made into the very thing they hate. And somehow, after all this and so so much more, Feyre came to acceptance. But I think, more than all the ways she hurt those around her, or they hurt her in turn, all the blood and vomit and nightmares…more than any of that, Feyre had to learn to love the beast that stared back.
Crawling down the snow-kissed wall, a massive beast of claws and scales and fur and shredding teeth inched toward the floor. Toward me.
Its enormous paws were near-silent on the floor, the fur on them a blend of black and gold. Not a beast designed to hunt in these mountains. Certainly not with the ridge of dark scales down its back. And the large, shining eyes—.
I didn’t have time to remark on those blue-grey eyes as the beast pounced.
Where I had been standing … the beast now sat, scaled tail idly swishing through the snow.
Gazing back at me. My reflection.
Of what lurked beneath my skin.
My knife clattered to the stones and snow. And I looked into the mirror. (pg. 605-6)
“Myself. I saw myself.” (pg. 617-18)
Maas gives us a short, but very revealing description of the beast—Feyre’s beast.
The significance of gold and black fur? Throughout ACOTAR and MAF, Feyre religiously rejected any power that related to Tamlin, namely the ability to shift into animal form. She feared the claws that poked against her skin. She hated them. Until she realized they weren’t Tamlin’s claws, they were her own. They were talons. And if she could make talons, she could make wings. Feyre’s beast form having a mixture of black and golden fur signifies that Tamlin is a part of her, and always will be. She once loved him, so much so that she killed for him, died for him. A love like that leaves a permanent imprint on a soul, even if the love itself doesn’t last forever. Feyre had to learn to love the part of her soul that had been touched and permanently changed by Tamlin.
The scales could signify several things. Of course Summer comes to mind. Feyre obviously has an affinity for the Summer magic that flows through her veins. It came easily to her—more easily than any other High Lord’s power. The scales might represent the bond formed between Tarquin and Feyre while she visited Summer. Regardless of the blood rubies, now rescinded, the High Lord of Summer and High Lady of Night shared a unique understanding of one another, and a common passion to spread equality between the High Fae and lesser faeries (and even humans) to all courts and territories.
The scales might also be equivalent to the thorns Feyre feels she has and once used to describe herself to Tamlin—the spiny ridge running down the beasts’ back and tail representing her prickly side. This is an annoying feature most of us have, and a part we all hate, but must accept responsibility for.
But perhaps the mostly likely possibility is that the scales and ridges represent Feyre’s armor (Illyrian armor is scaled). We know it to be thick. In ACOMAF, Rhysand worked for months to attempt to delve through the layers and layers of Feyre’s armor in the form of depression, anger, bitterness, and solitude. It is likely that Feyre had to learn to love that armor, even if she wished it had been stronger, or less harmful to those around her, the way it hurt Rhys after the Court of Nightmares scene in ACOMAF, and Mor at the camp in ACOWAR. While gazing at herself in the Mirror, Feyre had to learn to bear her armor proudly and honorably, to use it to strategically protect herself, and not harm or keep out those who love her, fight for her.
The massive, flesh-shredding teeth—Feyre’s ability and willingness to kill and murder. Whether for food to avoid starvation, killing for no other reason than pure, undiluted hatred, or the murder of innocents to save the one she loved, Feyre has a lot of blood on her hands. And as we learned through her nightmares and admittance to Cassian…Feyre feels that blood should be her own. She has fangs, and she’s used them—over and over again. Feyre suffered soul-deep from the pain she felt she brought upon others. But when the Mirror showed her those glistening teeth and impressive maw, Feyre had to accept that pain and torment—and then turn it against her enemies. Not fangs to harm the innocent, but rather to protect them, to fight for them. To fight against Hybern and the injustices of the world. To protect her sisters and those like them. To care for the weak and weary and afraid.
I have been struck each time I’ve read these scenes—on a personal level. To think about facing my own beast…what would it look like? How would I react as it sat and laid my very soul bare? Could I even look into my own eyes as they gazed back in judgement? Could I learn to love every part of myself as Feyre did? Would I be able to face my inner most demons? Honestly, I don’t know. But I think we could all benefit from pondering this passage a bit more.
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