Book 1: A Court of Thorns and Roses
somewhat in chronological order, these are all the things that i remember off the top of my head, so if i'm forgetting some of rhys' bullshittery, pls forgive me.
He left the decapitated head of a fae in Spring with the NC sigil. If this was on Amarantha's behalf, why wouldn't her sigil have been used? Why the NC sigil?
"They branded him behind the ear with a sigil," Lucien said, swearing.
"A mountain with three stars-"
"Night Court," Tamlin said too quietly.
"What are you doing here, Rhys?" Tamlin demanded, still in his seat.
"I wanted to check up on you. I wanted to see how you were faring. If you got my little present."
He absolutely murdered the Winter Court children.
"The blight," Lucien said tightly, softly, "It took out two dozen of their younglings."
It just... burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds."
OH, IT WAS A DIFFERENT DAEMATI? OK, GIVE ME NAMES THEN. OH, NO NAMES? THAT'S WHAT I FUCKING THOUGHT.
He's been UTM for 50 years as Amarantha's most trusted confidant, if she had another daemati in her service, I'm 100% sure he would know about it. Also, daemati are incredibly rare and apparently ONLY from the Night Court, so Rhysand would and should know of all the daemati in the NC. The fact that he can't provide a SINGLE name at the HL meeting in ACOWAR speaks volumes in and of itself.
Threatens to murder Lucien's entire family after also insulting the memory of his dead lover.
For context, Lucien was pretending that Feyre was his betrothed, Rhys made a snide remark about lower/ lesser born partners in reference to Jesminda, and Lucien SLIGHTLY raised his sword, this was Rhys's response.
"You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you'll learn how quickly Amarantha's whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady."
BITCH, overdramatic much?
He invades Feyre's mind and violates her.
Against my volition, my body straightened, every muscle going taut, my bones straining. Magic, but deeper than that. Power that seized everything inside me and took control: even my blood flowed where he willed it. I couldn't move. An invisible, talon tipped hand scraped against my mind. And I knew- one push, one swipe of those mental claws, and who I was would cease to exist.
Had I retained any semblance of control over my body, I might have vomited.
Even as he said my most private thoughts, even as I burned with outrage and shame, I trembled at the grip still on my mind.
Those invisible claws lazily caressed over my mind again- then vanished. I sank to the floor, curling over my knees as I reeled in everything that I was, as I tried to keep from sobbing, from screaming, from emptying my stomach onto the floor.
No one can hurt Feyre, and he'll break the arm of anyone who so much as calls her a whore, BUT he's allowed to physically abuse her.
Without waiting for my reaction, he grabbed my elbow and forced my arm into the dim light of the cell. I bit my lip to keep from crying out- bit it hard enough to draw blood as rivers of fire exploded inside me, as my head swam, and all my senses narrowed down to the piece of bone sticking through my arm. (ACOTAR p.331)
Swift as lightning he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and writhed, but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm.
Panting, half sobbing, as the pain reverberated through my body, I found him smirking at me again.
He coerces Feyre for sexual favours in return for urgent medical care.
She is then painted like an object, dressed in scraps of fabric, drugged against her will, forced to perform lap-dances in her drugged state until she becomes physically ill, and has to endure that abuse for WEEKS.
"Is this really necessary?" I said, gesturing to the paint and clothing.
"Of course," he said coolly, "How else would I know if anyone touches you?"
"I don't like my belongings tampered with."
"Wine?" he said, offering me a goblet.
Alis's first rule. I shook my head.
He smiled, and extended the goblet again. "Drink, you'll need it."
"Drink," he said, and my traitorous fingers latched onto the goblet.
Night after night, I was dressed in the same way and made to accompany Rhysand to the throne room. Thus I became Rhysand's play thing, the harlot of Amarantha's whore. I woke with vague shards of memories- of dancing between Rhysand's legs as he sat in a chair and laughed; of his hands, stained blue from the places they touched on my waist, my arms, but somehow, never more than that. He had me dance until I was sick, and once I was done retching, told me to begin dancing again.
I awoke ill and exhausted each morning... I spent my days sleeping off the faerie wine, dozing to escape the humiliation I endured.
"Merry Midsummer," Rhysand said, bowing to Amarantha.
"What have you done with my captive?" she [Amarantha] said, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.
-rhys describes the bargain-
"Enjoy my party," was Amarantha's only reply.
BITCH, YOUR ONE 'EXCUSE' FOR THIS SPECIFIC SHIT THAT YOU PULLED WAS SO THAT YOU COULD KEEP FEYRE AWAY FROM AMARANTHA'S ATTENTION, YET HERE THE FUCK YOU ARE INTRODUCING HER TO AMARANTHA AS YOUR PLAYTHING???? ASSOCIATING WITH FEYRE OUT OF THE CONTEXT OF TORTURE PURPOSES AND THE TRIAL??? THE FUCK ARE YOU ON RICE MAN???
