Feyre passes down her sapphire ring to Nyx so that he can present it to his spouse, as is tradition for most family heirlooms.
Feyre: This wedding ring belonged to your grandmother, and it is intended as a trial for strength, love, honour, and courage, so that your mate is truly worthy of you. I had to go through the same trial myself, so be sure you find a mate that is just as strong and brave as myself, or even more! 🥰
Nyx: bet
He uses it to propose to Tamlin, and Feyre needs to be physically restrained
Guys. Why are you complaining about something you know nothing about?
I have been in the fanbase for a few years and I have always had close mutuals who shipped Nyxlin, including of my friends I first met in 2022 who loved the idea of Nyx leaving Velaris when he’s an adult and sought out answers from Tamlin and ending up training with him. And I beg you guys to actually think before you post and accuse people of very serious crimes when 1. TAMLIN IS NOT FUCKING BABY NYX! and 2. THIS IS ALSO FUCKING FICTION.
The beauty of fanfiction is just that: FAN and FICTION. People age up characters. They age down characters. There are AUs and alternate timelines that have always been a thing in fanfiction. And the ship also doesn’t have to be sexual or even romantic. A lot of these fanfictions are about Tamlin being a mentor / trainer and father figure. They’re about Tamlin healing from the past, and Nyx understanding the very real biases the NC has. A lot can be political where it takes an anti-NC / anti-IC route and points out the bad stuff about the NC like the CON, Illyrian females, etc.
I don’t ship Nyxlin, but I can understand the angst and healing tropes that are tied to it. And if I get my friend talking about it with me? I nod and reply and let them enjoy it, because I know they are not a fucking pedo for reading fanfiction about Tamlin being a mentor / trainer to an 18 year old Nyx who ran away from home. Feyre and Rhys have a huge age gap, one thats even bigger than Nyxlin. That’s something that happens with these fantasy stories with fae and humans. So stop moral policing especially when you’re moving around the goalpost just because you personally don’t like something and STOP leaping to the worst possible term because it’s incredibly harmful.
And guess what? If you’re calling for censorship of certain materials, then I see you as the same as the conservatives in the US trying to ban books. 🤷♀️Writing fiction is not illegal. Aging up characters is not illegal.
POV the assholes on your feed don't understand how to read and instead of realizing how they've called people pedophiles, and mocked their ship as well as adamantly use AI despite the extreme harm it poses not just to artists but the environment, just start bitching about being harassed.
If you're being harassed for accusing people of being pedophiles and using AI, you deserve to be harassed. Not sorry.
Tamlin's knuckles whited on the tabletop from the effort of restraint. His heart was beating an erratic rhythm in his chest. A cool hand settled at the nape of his neck, lightly squeezing.
Ignore my father, beloved. You know he says these things to upset you.
The words echoed in his mind, ringing with the force of Nyx's irritation. Any Daemati present would surely hear the words as plainly as if they'd spoken them themselves. Even as his pale blue eyes held his gaze, Nyx's words continued to bounce around in Tamlin's mind, loud and bold.
Tamlin turned his head slightly, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips. He drew his mate's hand from his neck and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of Nyx's wrist.
I know. But I can't help wanting to jump across the table to wring his neck nonetheless.
Nyx's laughter rippled down the bond, and his neat, pointed fangs poked at his plush lower lip. He turned his hand, curling it over Tamlin's jaw and stroking lightly.
Well. Some things just can't be helped, can they? Please try to keep from killing my father, though. I would like him there.
A loud, dramatic, mental sigh. If I must, my love.
Someone cleared their throat from across the table.
Rhysand looked faintly ill.
"That's enough, Nyx. You've made your point," Feyre said coolly.
Nyx turned his gaze to his mother with a smile, "Of course, mother. I apologise." he pulled his hand back, settling it instead on Tamlin's thigh.
A muscle twitched in Feyre's eye as she tracked the movement from underneath the glass tabletop, but she continued after a long, suffering breath.
"Now. We have been unable to resolve this issue for quite some time. I have called this meeting to talk things over, speak our perspectives and make our case, as it were. We're running out of time, as I'm sure you're aware, so I would like to resolve this issue today. Yes?"
"Yes, mother."
Tamlin curled his lip, but inclined his head, "Your point is well made, High Lady. But I'm afraid that I have argued my case one too many times. It is your High Lord who refuses to co-operate."
"That was the purpose of this meeting," she looked over to her mate, smiling tightly, "Perhaps we can come to a compromise. Rhys?"
The High Lord of Night glowered, his eyes flicking from his son's stone cold expression, to Tamlin's petulant scowl. Feyre cleared her throat pointedly and a moment passed in a silent exchange. Rhys sighed at last.
"... I suppose it would not matter if the napkins were pale pink."
"Wonderful!" Feyre said brightly, quickly, not giving Rhys the chance to reconsider. Her pen scrawled across the paper in a blur.
"Now, the guest list. If we are to host the ceremony, we will need to cull some guests from your side, Tamlin."
Tamlin leaned forward, a frown deepening on his face, "The ceremony will be held in Spring."
Rhys slammed his hands on the table top, "Over my dead body!" he snarled.
"Gladly!" Tamlin responded, his chair toppling over as he surged upwards.
Nyx smothered his grin, leaning backwards in his chair as his mother rubbed her temple wearily. At this rate, the wedding would never happen, but he didn't mind. So long as his mate didn't kill his father and vice versa.
Okay, so let me walk you through what I'd originally had planned for day 2 of Tamlin week 2025, but ran out of time to flesh out.
There are two versions, so brace yourself!
Because the Night Court was absorbed into the Spring territories and the High Lord title was given over to Tamlin, Feysand, the I.C and the entirety of Velaris are forced to move to the Hewn City.
Nyx had been born in the darkness.
Hidden beneath the twisted mountains, the Hewn city offered little comfort. No light penetrated there, no song or laughter. The Moonstone palace, though grand and luxurious, was empty and far too cold, with not enough bodies or souls to fill its rooms.
Here, Nyx has been basically born and raised solely for the purpose of Feysand hoping to create the most powerful fae in Prythian history, in order to take back the Night Court and reinstate their power/ High Lord title.
Here's where the idea split and I got stumped
(1) Nyx is successfully raised as a killing machine, but the night before he is to fulfill his destiny (before his 50th birthday), he dreams about a mysterious fae male with roses in his hair and longing in his eyes.
He goes to Amren, and in her roundabout way, she helps him.
"They say he cursed himself," Amren said.
"Their High Lord. They say he took a blade to his skin and bled his magic into the very land itself. And from his blood? A wall of thorns, so wild and thick with eldritch magic not even your father could penetrate it. Such has been the way for as long as you have breathed upon this realm.
All that exists there now is a court of thorns and roses."
Nyx struggled to comprehend. "So… Spring is already dead?"
"What? Oh, no."
"But you just-"
"Death is not a simple matter for High Fae," Amren cut in, "Though Spring has remained stagnant for centuries, its magic still remains very much alive. And if the court is alive, then it stands to reason that there must be a High Lord presiding over it. But let me say this," she wagged a finger at Nyx, "if there is a High Lord there… He is not alive in any way that matters. It is therefore your task to finish it. Once and for all."
His mind spun, "No, that can't be right. I mean, in the dream that I had, there is a High Lord, and he's not asleep or dead, he walks the land. And there's a pool of starlight that-
"Wait," Amren said sharply, "A pool… of starlight?"
He dropped his gaze, embarrassed for some reason he couldn't name. "I call it that because the waters are iridescent, and shine as if they were filled with starlight."
Nyx chanced a look back up at his tutor, expecting to see her usual flat expression, or eyeroll to impress exactly how unimpressed she was, but instead her face had gone stiff.
"Amren?"
She lunged across the table at him, grabbing his wrists in hers, "Does your father know?"
"What?"
"Does your father know?" she hissed more forcefully.
"No. I haven't told him." he said in bewilderment, "I haven't told him anything."
(2) Nyx is not the warrior that his parents crave. Far from it. He shows no sign of powers, and his fighting skills are woefully absent.
With each decade that passed, his father became noticeably less chipper and optimistic. His mother preferred to ignore the situation entirely.
When Amren had finally told them that he simply didn't have any powers, they'd been quiet.
The next year, his brother was born.
Introducing Noctis!! Nyx's younger brother and rival in life. Basically Prythian's Zuko and Azula. He shows far greater promise than Nyx, and is given his destiny to kill Tamlin.
Nyx is now delegated to Amren's assistant for her experiments/ research/ etc... But then on his 50th birthday, he has a dream about a mysterious fae male with roses in his hair and longing in his eyes.
He goes to Amren, and in her roundabout way, she helps him.
(see above)
NOW BACK TO THE FLOOR FOR CIRCLE TIME. There is a lake in the mountains surrounding the Hewn city that contains a portal at the bottom of it's depths. Guess where it leads to?
FUCK YEAH, THE STARLIGHT FUCKING POOL
(1) His parents lead him to the lake portal, and tell him to fulfill his destiny. But even as he basks in his parent's pride, something hollow aches in his chest.
(2) Amren tells him about the portal, and he sneaks away one day whilst his parents are occupied with his brother's training to explore.
It spits him out into a grassy meadow, long overgrown and wild. He walks for hours, or at least it seems to be hours, and then he stumbles upon it
"A wall of thorns."
He had to get through.
Nyx grabbed hold of one thick vine, testing. It would not yield. He drew a dagger from his pocket, and raised it to the air. A sudden wind sliced through his hair, almost pushing him to the ground. It howled around him before disappearing into the thorns.
"Alright! I'm sorry! I'm sorry."
He dropped the knife and kicked it away.
"I'm sorry!"
At his words, the rumbling abated, a gentle breeze coming to ruffle his hair instead.
…They say he took a blade to his skin and bled his magic into the very land itself….
The thorns were alive. They were listening to him.
Nyx laid a ginger hand across the gnarled thorns and closed his eyes, pushing his mental shields wide open. What lay beyond was nothing but a darkened abyss.
He took a breath, and murmured a prayer to the Mother.
Nyx sent his curiosity across that strange void.
His fear and determination, he sent those too.
"Please," he murmured, pressing his forehead to the rough surface, "I mean no harm. Let me in?"
Silence.
Then, a great shuddering sigh shook the earth, and the thorns began to recede.
The passageway led him to a grand manor. Its walls were shrouded in thorny vines, little white buds dotting their surface. He prodded one with his finger, letting out a startled laugh when it bloomed into a soft rose. Nyx lightly dragged his hand along the vines as he walked into the manor, delighting in the roses that bloomed under his touch.
He lay on a pillow of white roses, one hand crossed over his heart, the other limp on the floor, a delicate bloom cradled within his fingers. He looked as if he had laid down to sleep not three centuries ago, but only moments ago.
"You're not a monster at all," Nyx whispered, "You're just a male."
And of course it ends with a Nyxlin mating bond and Feysand watching on in horror as their son drags in their scraggly arch nemesis through their doorway with an engagement ring made from thorns and roses on his finger!
Nyx: This bloodline ends with me.
Tamlin: That's the fanciest way I've ever heard someone say "I'm gay".
--
Nyx: look Tamlin, I'm not slut shaming you but... Actually yeah, I'm TOTALLY slut shaming you.
Tamlin: ...
--
Feyre: Truth or dare?
Tamlin: Dare.
Feyre: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.
Tamlin: Hey Rhys?
Rhys, blushing: Yeah?
Tamlin: Can you move? I'm trying to get to Nyx.
--
Rhys: How is the most beautiful person in the world?
Feyre: *blushing* I—
Nyx, butting into the conversation: Tamlin is perfect, thanks for asking.
--
Nyx, about a fight between Tamlin and Rhys: It scares me how many knives were involved.
Feyre: There… weren’t any knives involved though?
Nyx: That’s what scares me.
--
Nyx, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.
Tamlin: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.
