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Proceeds go to worldhopping and therapy.

One Decahelen of Subscribers

Greetings Valthakai, smut enthusiasts, children of the Lord, and those who can’t even think the word “tequila”…

Welcome to a very special edition of The Valthakan Times, as we have hit a huge personal landmark for the newsletter: 10,000 subscribers!

Even as you read this, 9,999+ other people with an extreme desire to jump through a glowing portal leading to a fae realm are also chuckling along to this hilarious introduction.

It truly is an honor to reach this many people, and we are happy to know that you look forward to our writing each week.

In that vein, we wanted to offer the link to our feedback survey.

If you already completed it through our Instagram story, you’re all set! But if this is news to you and you have something to say, be sure to say it!

Your feedback helps us continuously improve The Times, with the added benefit of personalizing our greetings to you.

If your mail app hasn’t already informed you, today’s edition is long, and it may benefit you to read it on our The Valthakan Times site or app.

Now for some exciting updates!

I had an incredible time on Saturday as a guest on the Lame Bookclub Podcast. My hosts, Ellie and Melissa, did me the service of letting me yap for an hour and a half about ACOTAR. I highly recommend checking it out. The episode goes live today!

We have some more incredible news. Thanks to in-depth survey analysis (more Instagram stories), we wanted to offer additional editions based on your interests.

In a shocking display of the law of averages, people almost evenly divided themselves in their desire for weekly, biweekly, monthly, or “streamed directly into my skull” updates.

Luckily the Crone is here to be a maniacal dictator with some moderation from Daniel. After putting our heads, cloaks, and sass together, you’ll see two available tiers that update on alternating Fridays, ensuring we can provide the most updates possible on a consistent schedule.

Furthermore, if you have been enjoying The Valthakan Times, you can now make a monthly or annual pledge if you’d like a commitment that is longer than your parents’ marriage.

In the most blatantly explicit writing I can manage: Monday editions will continue to be freely available. If you decide you need a bit more Valthaka in your life, in any capacity, we love you for it and are grateful for your support.

If you want to know more about what the Diamond and Platinum Valthakan tiers offer, keep reading to catch the first edition of The Wanderings of the Crone and our first Deep Dive, featuring none other than our beloved A Court of Thorns and Roses.

And if you love it all to bits, we have the Cronium tier to bundle them both.

Lastly, we have also received our first submissions for the More Tea Please? section of the Dear Crone advice column! So a very special thanks to our guinea pigs in that regard.

As a reminder, those who want to follow up on their previously answered submissions to Dear Crone can update us using the new Follow Ups section on the submission form!

This is only the first of many more milestones to come, and I, for one, love that you are here for it.

Enjoy!

Humbly,

The Crone and Daniel

Daniel’s Current Read

Upgrade Your Valthakan Status!

This special edition is going to include two things:

1. The first of The Wanderings of the Crone (Platinum)

2. Our First Deep Dive (Diamond)

Each of these installments will be updated biweekly on alternate Fridays, which means nothing because the English language fails to differentiate between “biweekly” and “semiweekly.”

So, to make it abundantly clear, the next Wanderings will be released on Friday the 16th, while the next Deep Dive/Writers Workshop will be released on the 23rd. Further editions of both tiers will trade off on Fridays.

Dear Crone

An advice column

More Tea Please?

The follow-up section

Need Advice?

The Wanderings of the Crone

Episode 1: Bondage is So Not My Thing

Hello dearie!

Welcome to my wanderings, where I, in my benevolence, have decided to recount my tales for your enjoyment.

Truthfully, I don’t really recall how I ended up on this ship.

I woke up to the gentle rocking of waves, the smell of the sea, and the discomfort of steel chains wrapping my wrists and ankles.

Who the hells (worldbuilding) trusses up a grandmother?

I mean, sure, I am dangerous, but how would they know?

I was in a cell of sorts, though whoever had put me here had been kind enough to include a small window that overlooked the water, providing a welcome breeze.

It should have been a moment’s thought to dispel these chains, but the instant I rallied my power, they reacted.

I swore— eloquently if I do say so myself — as they tightened, suddenly hot as if freshly forged.

It wasn’t going to kill me, but it definitely made it impossible to focus. I dropped the grasp on my magic, the spell slipping away, and my unasked-for bondage gear rapidly cooled.

So it would be patience then…. fuck.

Look I may be immortal but that doesn’t mean I like waiting around for stuff to happen.

Luckily boots sounded down the hallway to my right just as I was contemplating starting to scream.

I wriggled into a slightly more dignified position, difficult though it was given my predicament.

At first, I was expecting some heels based on the sound, so imagine my disappointment when a pair of pitch-black boots stopped outside my cell.

Don’t worry, as it faded quickly as my eyes roved upwards.

Good… fucking… GODS (more worldbuilding).

Calf brown trousers tucked neatly into the aforementioned boots, straining against his thighs.

A cream shirt that was buttoned far too low had he looked like anyone else, topped with a simple vest the same color as his pants.

Deeply tanned skin, probably spent from a lifetime on the sea, under endless days of sun, and scandalously shirtless for most of it.

What?

You’d be more interested if he were ugly?

His hair was cropped close to his skull, though speckles of silver— not gray, actual silver— instantly made me wary.

His eyes were unfairly sea green.

Gag.

I hate the cliche but I can’t deny the appeal.

“Greetings, witch,” he said. His accent wasn’t from any Realm I was familiar with, delicately rolling through its Rs.

I sat up straighter, pulling my hands forward. Sure, the chains might get in the way and fry my limbs off, but those were replaceable.

“No need for that, I assure you.” He said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a simple key, and opening my cell, “This was a precaution I was bullied into by my first. You make my men nervous.”

“I should,” I eyed him as he knelt to undo the chains around my ankles.

The smell of cedar hit me, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

A captain who smelled like a forest breeze? Unbelievable.

“Well then, I guess you can call my crew intelligent, no?” He gave a husky laugh, helping me to my feet but distinctly not unbinding my hands.

“I’ll decide what to call them after I get out of these chains.”

The captain nodded, guiding me with a gentle hand to the upper decks.

It was exactly what I would have expected of a ship… which is to say, not much.

Various sailors in various states of dress seeing to their various chores. All gasping as I emerged from the bowels of their ship and hurrying in the opposite direction.

One man muttered in a language I couldn’t translate, his left hand contorting over his heart.

“Not worried about a mutiny?” I shot over my shoulder as the captain guided me up another set of steps toward the helm.

There we were greeted by another unfairly gorgeous man at the wheel.

Were they fishing them out of the ocean?

This one was unusually pale, with brown eyes and curled blond hair. I would have mistaken him for Sanguinine had he not been happily steering under the setting sunlight.

“She’s awake!” the man said in a voice far deeper than I was expecting, like a bear squashed into a dryad’s body.

“Indeed, Darien.”

Ugh, obviously.

“Let me guess,” I interrupted, turning to my metrosexually dressed captor, “Captain… Xaleb?”

He looked at me with a charming grin, and I realized one of his canines was a gold point.

“Not quite. You may call me Ix.”

I didn’t miss the phrasing there.

“A bit more superstitious than you let on, eh? Welp, Darien, Captain Ix. Why the fuck am I here?”

Both men seemed deeply startled by the question.

“Er… we were hoping you’d be able to tell us,” Ix said.

Oh well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“What?! How would I know?”

“We had been in the middle of a storm two nights past when a blast of light hit the deck. The winds died down, and you were curled up, mumbling to yourself.” The captain explained.

Okay in fairness, that did sound like me. Wait a second,

“I saved your ship, and you tied me in spelled chains and locked me in your brig?”

“What would you have done?” Darien asked. He seemed genuinely curious.

“Waited for me to wake up! And made sure I did in a soft bed with some food for starters.”

The captain caught the hint, calling for one of his men to bring me something from the kitchens.

“Despite my sailors' concerns, I take your arrival as a good sign.” He confessed.

“For what?” I reiterated.

“Our journey into the Sapphire Depths.”

As if that meant anything to me… though it certainly sounded like something a Fragment would have taken residence in.

“He believes you were sent by Tala Herself,” Darien, at least, sounded skeptical.

Most other immortals tended to leave me alone, but until I had more answers… best to roll with it.

“You believe I have been sent to help your crew on this… journey?”

Captain Ix nodded eagerly,

“The Depths have long been unconquered. You are the first sign that the Mistress of Water wants us to succeed.”

Sure.

“So where is it then?” I asked, and Darien politely pointed towards the horizon where, in the growing darkness, I could see an aurora rising from the water itself. Sapphire lights began to climb like a dense fog from a particular section to the northeast.

I could feel the power thrumming there, a distinctly different force to the Essence that ran through my own veins.

“Once we arrive,” Captain Ix placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, finally unlocking the chains around my wrist, “we will descend into the Depths.”

“Wait… dive into that water?”

“Of course!” He smiled.

Currents of power I could just faintly detect reached my senses, growing stronger as the ship moved closer. The water roiled with pulsations of Fae magic.

And so squaring my shoulders, I looked up into the Captain’s face, and with as hard a stare as I could manage, I made it clear:

“Abso-LUTELY fucking not!”

Do I end up going for a dive?

Are there any more sexy men on this ship?

Will I get something to eat anytime soon?

Find out in the next edition of The Wanderings of the Crone

Deep Dive: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Obviously, this was going to be the first book we covered in our Deep Dives.

As part of this series, there will also be a Writers Workshop in these Friday editions, where I will include my OC writing/prompts and share the goals I have for each of my scenes. Of course, I cannot wait to share it with you, but there’s already a Wanderings of the Crone in this edition, so there are some things we will have to keep as a surprise. 

A major goal of mine in these premium tiers is your participation. Subscribers will be able to pick our next Deep Dive, Writing Prompts, and more.

Overall, the Deep Dives will include major spoilers for any particular book or series and will be divided into sections on Summarization, Theory and Interpretation, and Weaknesses, obviously with some snark too. We may not get everything in the Summary section, but necessary components will be elaborated on elsewhere.

The comment section is always open too!

So, with that covered, we are going to get into A Court of Thorns and Roses like a bunch of high schoolers picking up this book for the very first time.

Summary

Feyre Archeron has dedicated her life to her family, eking out a living as a huntress while her family commits itself to… being fucking useless.

The cast includes Feyre’s father, a merchant broken by the loss of his fortune and well… his knee. Unable to stay ahead of their debts, the Archeron family now lives in a hovel, Feyre sharing a bed with her sisters, the spicy-as-flour Elain, and Nesta, this land’s poster child for the necessity of a lobotomy.

The human lands of Prythian are tough during the winter, overshadowed by the mysterious Wall that keeps away the Fae people to the north, mostly, in any case. Apparently, some of the bastards still manage to slip through to torment mortals, though one can arm oneself with iron, the wood of an ash tree, and the knowledge that faeries cannot tell a lie.

Even with proper equipment, it is madness for Feyre to be hunting as far north as she is one day, but it is between finding fresh meat or starving to death.

She gets phenomenally lucky, stumbling upon a deer grazing, though she doesn’t fail to notice the wolf that is also stalking her prey. The thing is, as the Crone would say, fucking massive.

Deciding it may be a faerie in disguise, Feyre takes an ashwood arrow and fires on the creature just as it brings down the deer. Her first shot doesn’t kill it, but the creature merely faces her… waiting for her to put the killing blow through its eyes.

Now with a wolf pelt and slightly mangled lunch, she heads home.

Things are looking up for the Archeron family. The fresh meat is likely to last them several weeks, and the wolf pelt is worth a fair penny at the market.

Maybe life CAN get better. Feyre thinks to herself as her bitch ass sisters take her hard-earned money. She doesn’t even care, so happy she is to settle down for a nice venison dinner.

And then the furry bait bursts through the door.

A monstrous beast, like a cross between a wolf and a bear, has come to claim Feyre’s life for the crime of murder.

Remember Wolf Boy? Well, Feyre clocked it. The dude was Fae.

Luckily, according to the rules of theTreaty between Man and Fae, Feyre didn’t have to die. Just live out the rest of her life above the wall in northern Prythian. You know… the land famous for its enslavement of humanity and whatnot? It’s free real estate.

Agreeing to it, Feyre is now tormented at the thought of not being able to care for her leech of a family, but the emotions begin to cool when she arrives in the Spring Court, a land caught in perpetual bloom, guarded by the beast— a shapeshifter known as Tamlin, as well as his best friend, a redheaded with a mechanical golden eye by who goes by Lucien.

Despite its beauty, there is clearly something wrong in these lands: vicious beasts crossing its boundaries, a mysterious plague— something about it trapping masks on the faces of the Spring Court, and a genuine sense of unease permeating the land.

Feyre ends up catching the Suriel (a friend of the Crone’s) and, from its near-omniscience, learns that Tamlin isn’t just any hot Fae male but the High Lord of the Spring Court.

Furthermore, the land is not beset by a plague but rather a bitch by the name of Amarantha. They are interrupted by the arrival of some faeries known as the naga, but Feyre releases the Suriel and is saved by Tamlin and his rippling pectorals.

Feyre and her landlord begin to grow closer, and she divulges the promise she made to her dying mother to take care of their family… why rely on your adult husband when your youngest daughter is available for emotional labor?

It turns out Tamlin worked his magic (literally) to make it seem as though her father’s last business venture actually returned! Bringing wealth once more to the Archerons and changing their memories to believe that Feyre is staying with a wealthy aunt. Feyre also learns that iron is useless against faeries, and they can lie.

Promise to Mama dearest fulfilled, Feyre actually begins to contemplate the thought of being taken care of for the first time in her life.

A ceremony comes up where Feyre is ordered to stay inside, but the beat of the drums and the bonfires draw her towards the faerie revel. Three males accost her but are scared off by the hottest thing on two legs, and Lucien takes her back to the manor before she can catch the male’s name.

It’s okay, though! Rhysand, as his name ends up being, stopped by later to blatantly threaten Feyre, the Spring Lord, and his bestie with the wrath of his lover. Feyre gives her name as Clare Beddor, and within days Tamlin is sending her back to her family because he loves her too much to risk getting her hurt… Can you imagine Nesta being preferable to getting your face torn off? I can’t.

Naturally, Feyre lasts all of forty-five minutes dealing with her family, realizing she has to go back and save Tamlin and his people from Amarantha. Shockingly, Nesta was immune to Tamlin’s glamour and remembered everything and encouraged her younger sister to get her ass back to her man. It turns out, the Wicked Sister had actually tried to get through the Wall to find Feyre, though she couldn’t find an opening.

Feyre hoofs it back to the Spring Manor, finding it trashed, and Alis, the servant who had been taking care of her, finally reveals it all.

Tamlin had rejected Amarantha, and so this delicate western flower had placed a curse on the land of Prythian, seizing the magic of every High Lord. The way to break it was simple: Tamlin had to get a woman who despised faeries to fall in love with him… and say it.

Naturally, Alis is a bit pissed that her court had been an “ily” away from freedom, and when Feyre resolves to venture Under the Mountain to Amarantha’s court, she leads the way to its entrance.

Feyre ventures into the belly of the beast with grit and determination and is caught about thirty seconds later.

Dragged before the court Under the Mountain, Feyre meets Amarantha, her bowels watery with fear, and accepts a deal.

Feyre can either answer a riddle or complete three tasks:

1. Defeat the Alaskan Bull Worm

2. High Temp Reading Club

3. Hot Girl Murder

If she solves or survives, the High Lords would go free.

The tasks don’t take place consecutively, and in the interim, Feyre is forced to participate in faerie revels, getting blasted on fae wine under the supervision and touch of Rhysand.

The Worm almost kills her, leaving her gravely injured, but Rhys offers to heal her in exchange for her visiting his Night Court one week a month.

With no other choice, she accepts.

The next challenge reveals her fatal flaw: Feyre is illiterate, which makes solving a word problem before the burning hot spikes impale her and Lucien a bit of a close call. Luckily, Rhys has some mental abilities that guide her through it.

The final challenge is one that Feyre intrinsically knows she will not survive.

Three hooded fairies are dragged before her, three ash arrows are presented on a tray, and Feyre is given the challenge: murder them.

With the end in sight, the first male pleads for his life, the second female merely whispers a prayer, and the third is Tamlin.

She hesitates, but remembering tidbits of a previous conversation, Feyre realizes a third aspect of Amarantha’s curse: the High Lord’s heart had been turned to stone.

Plunging forward, the ash chips against Tamlin’s heart, and the challenge is complete. But Amarantha has a loophole. A timeline was never a part of the deal, and so she was not bound to release the High Lords immediately.

Magic slams into Feyre, and as it begins to crush her body, she realizes the answer to Amarantha’s riddle, gasping out “love” before her neck snaps.

The High Lords ascend back to their true power, Rhys rushing to Feyre and Tamlin leaping for the Queen Under the Mountain to rip out her throat. Karma’s a bitch.

It’s too late for Feyre, though, her soul barely hanging on to the magic of her deal with Rhys as she looks at her corpse through his eyes.

The High Lords gather to pay their respect, sharing a kernel of their magics, and Feyre awakens to find herself turned Fae.

Days later, Rhys abruptly vanishes back home, and Feyre returns to the Spring Court, a bright future now ahead of her… an immortal one.

Theories and Interpretations

Overall, the story does a good stint at worldbuilding, laying the groundwork for three major points.

1. Feyre’s entire character arc was discovering the altar she was sacrificing her life on was a lie.

From the beginning, everything we were taught about faeries was a lie, one ironically enough perpetuated by the faeries themselves.

Feyre was out of her depth and only survived through dumb luck or the help of the truly powerful.

We can even look at the bits of culture that her people clung to. Religion was done away with as a remnant of when humanity was bound to worship the High Fae as gods, but the concept of “deals” is a sacred pact.

Humanity honored such things. Even promises made as a child were considered sacrosanct, such as Feyre swearing to her mother to care for her family.

But the basis of this cultural norm likely stemmed from the belief that the fae couldn’t lie, so it essentially rendered her promise meaningless; the fact that she actually fulfilled it was irrelevant.

Feyre had been willing to destroy herself to take care of her family, only to realize her opinions on the Fae and the expectations she should have of herself were not feasible or even true.

2. The Archerons are fae-blooded.

We receive hints throughout the series that there are bloodlines descended from the coupling of mortal and Fae, and we know very little about Feyre’s mother. The sisters may be part of such a bloodline.

Nesta was immune to Tamlin’s glamour, able to repel the High Lord's magic that sought to affect her memories.

Elain is often described as being loved by all who meet her, which ironically enough is a classical description of a glamour! The spell was designed to make something appear more friendly and safe than it actually was.

Finally, Feyre is significantly stronger than your average person. She shlepped an entire deer carcass wrapped in a wolf pelt she skinned single-handedly several miles through the snow back to her home while on the brink of starvation. Even when fighting the Middengard Wyrm, as it was actually called, she ran, jumped, and threw with the skill of an Olympic athlete.

3. Humanity has a faded memory of wyrdmarks and possibly aren’t native to Prythian

While starting her journey towards literacy, Feyre stumbles upon a mural in Tamlin’s library.

The artwork showcases feminine hands overturning a Cauldron, the golden liquid within decorated with small symbols, and forming the continent we call Prythian.

As we know from the Throne of Glass series, wyrdmarks are ancient symbols that can reshape reality. A runic system anyone with magic can make use of.

Prythian’s human population often decorates their doorsteps with symbols. Feyre is aware they are likely peddled by charlatans, but this is a notable connection to faerie history. The book does a fantastic job of highlighting just how old the faeries can be and what immortality actually means.

What is history to the High Lords is folklore to humanity as it dredges its limited memory for ways to protect itself.

Furthermore, the fae goddess known as the Mother is confirmed to be the Midgardian Goddess of Fate Urd in the Crescent City series but is known by another name: Wyrd.

The mural also fails to mention humanity in its depiction of the creation myth, something Feyre interprets to mean they were insignificant, but what someone familiar with the Massverse may realize means they weren’t around when the creation of Prythian was happening. It’s up to you!

Weaknesses

Overall, I enjoyed the entirety of this series, but where A Court of Thorns and Roses really struggle for me is the riddle. For those curious, it is:

Now, there seem to be two camps: those who went, “Oh, it’s love!” and those who went, “There’s no way the answer is love, so what the fuck could it be?”

I will be the first person to point out that it is stupid. But one argument I’ve seen is that Feyre was both illiterate and had no idea what love would mean.

She never experienced any sort of safety or support from her family that could reasonably be interpreted as love. The entirety of her childhood was a step from starvation, and it was her job to avoid that.

Furthermore, I argue that she only figured out the riddle because she was dying for her feelings for Tamlin, and it clicked.

In the end, Amarantha got what she deserved, and that’s what matters.

Why I Finished It…

I am and will always be exceptionally magic system forward, and because of that, I am willing to accept a bit of camp if it means I can enjoy the story.

Overall, Prythian is a land rife with mystery, and Feyre’s newly Made body means she is able to fit in in the rest of the story.

Had Feyre remained mortal, I more than likely would have stopped the series here, but the fact that she herself is now Fae means that we will not be dealing with a The Vampire Diaries-style damsel for the next 4 books.

The characters are hot, and there is tension brimming. Now, we get to see how Prythian reacts to the return of its true masters.

Game on.

In Closing

I know you’re not supposed to start a paragraph like this, but you aren’t my high school English teacher, are you?

Now it is up to you! This will be the first of many polls for the Platinum tier, and I wanted to know if you were more interested in single books with a Dive like above or 2-3 novels in each edition united by a common theme! Let me know below!

Remember, it will also include the Writers Workshop, which will include my own personal fantasy work, and you’ll get to pick the prompts for that, too!

The Soft Covers

Because Sometimes Fantasy is Nice

Spoken Magic System

I think I have been doing this long enough to prove you’ve never had an original experience.

Every twisted, understandable, or concerning thought you’ve had about any of the many, many, many Fae/Vampire/Werewolf/Hybrid/Tribrid/Priapniorian/Billionaire is one I know about.

And so we get to today’s discussion on Spoken Magic Systems.

You were merely a child back then, enamored at the thought of wands, owls, and a nice bathroom at a private school… but that was years ago, and the only question you have in regard to Harry Potter’s magic system is: What the FUCK was that?

Spoken magic systems are, hands down, one of my favorite tropes.

JUSTIFYING why yodeling a specific combination of words causes reality to bend to your will? Well, that’s more art than science in the fantasy world.

Harry Potter, for all of its cultural impact, was the dumbest fucking example for one major reason:

Why the FUCK was nobody learning Latin?

Not once in seven books or eight movies did anybody draw attention to the fact that they were speaking a historical language.

Even our resident nerd, Hermione, never brings up the fact that they’re screaming, “Throw your wand away, you fucking casual.”

The worldbuilding implications are wild. Did the Romans conquer most of the known world through magic? Do all magic systems use Latin? Did one of Hermione’s ancestors participate in the murder of Caesar?

We see this in other novels, such as The Vampire Diaries, but at the very least, witches use multiple magical languages, justifying the concept of different witch covens acting as servants of Nature in different parts of the world.

Spoken magic systems toe the line of “simple enough to understand” and “a plothole the size of a continent,” and they provide more flexibility and interest compared to purely elemental systems.

While I have certainly plugged both before, the Cradle series and A Fate Inked in Blood both make use of spoken systems in a way that is integral to the worldbuilding itself.

In the former case, Sages are beings who have connected to concepts that underlie reality, this connection forming a scope of Authority that allows them to dictate to the world around them. For example, a Winter Sage is able to demand something “freeze!”

Freya’s world is a little different. Those blessed with the blood of the gods can shout their divine patron’s name to receive their blessing, whether that is a magic shield, an enchanted bow, or a flaming axe.

Simple, sweet, efficient.

Doesn’t make me wonder if wizards were secretly controlling the Roman Republic.

Maybe I’m too harsh, but I give waaaay too much leeway for good magic systems, so if it’s a bad one you’ll make me DNF.

What do you think?

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