Okay—when it comes to some messages, my inbox isn’t letting me answer directly, so I’m going to respond here instead!
“Do you think current Feyre looks down and hates humans? Why do you think she looks down on humans? Has she always had that way deep inside even before Turning fae or was the IC a major influence on that thinking?
How do you think Nesta views humans now that she is Fae? Do you think she views herself as better than them or she still loves and values her kind—humans—even though she is no longer human?
Do you think Elain views humans the same as Feyre and the IC? Or that one day she will start to view humans as they do? If given the chance, could you see both Elain or Nesta going back to being human if they could?
Do you believe even though unfortunate for the girls that them being changed and made was for the best or for the worse for them?
How would you feel if this was real life and faes existed, and you were turned fae—just like Nesta and Elain—had no say and was forced to be something you never wanted in the first place? Do you think you’d be angry and depressed for a long time? Do you think you’d eventually make do with it? Or would you be happy about the pros that comes with being Fae?”
Does Current Feyre Look Down on Humans? And Has She Always?
I think when it comes to Feyre, the most telling shift isn’t necessarily in what she says about humans—but in how she stops identifying with them entirely.
She doesn’t hate humans outright, but I truly believe she just doesn’t see herself in them anymore. That’s what makes her relationship with her former humanity so haunting. The girl who once starved and hunted and clawed for scraps has been slowly swallowed by power, privilege, and the ideological detachment of the Night Court.
The Feyre we meet in ACOTAR is sharp-edged, cynical, survival-driven—but grounded. She understands need. She understands what it means to be overlooked. But by the time we reach ACOWAR and beyond, Feyre’s entire sense of identity is shaped around the idea of transcending that past. She doesn’t want to return to it. She doesn’t want to look back. She doesn’t even really talk about her humanity anymore except to frame it as a burden she overcame.
And the IC reinforces that. They constantly equate mortality with weakness. So of course Feyre, who was once defined by her ability to protect others, would grow into someone who sees power—not empathy—as the only way to survive. In that context, mortals stop being familiar. They become fragile. Foreign. Less than. Not because she explicitly hates them—but because she no longer sees herself reflected in them.
She’s looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger—and that’s the scariest part.
How Does Nesta View Humans Now That She’s Fae?
This is where the contrast is stark.
Nesta does not see herself as better than humans. In fact, she still sees herself as human. That’s part of why she reacts so violently to her transformation—it’s not just about losing control. It’s about being forced to become something she never wanted to be, at the hands of fae who never valued her humanity to begin with.
Unlike Feyre, Nesta doesn’t idolize fae culture or power. She doesn’t take to it naturally. She doesn’t forget where she came from. Her interactions with mortals, her protectiveness over the priestesses in the library—all of it suggests that she continues to hold deep empathy for people who are overlooked and cast aside, especially those without physical power.
It’s what makes her the natural foil to Rhysand and his court, who think power justifies every action.
Elain’s Perspective: Present & Future
Elain’s perspective is murkier—but not without signs.
So far, Elain is the one sister who still physically clings to comforts: the garden, the quiet, the dresses, the softness. It’s easy to read that as a love for her old life—but it might also be a refusal to engage with her current one.
Elain doesn’t confront what’s been done to her. She doesn’t name her trauma. And while that doesn’t mean she hasn’t suffered, it means that she’s containing it in silence, letting others project onto her. So when it comes to humans, she doesn’t say much—she doesn’t say anything—but that silence is slowly becoming dangerous. The more she allows herself to be shaped by others (especially the IC), the more likely it is she’ll become like them.
Elain has always been about adapting for survival. She doesn’t challenge systems—she slips beneath them. And that includes internalizing the Fae way of thinking.
So yes, I think Elain is the most likely to one day view humans the way the IC does—with a quiet sort of pity, a disconnect. Unless something pulls her out of that trajectory, she’ll become one of them by default.
If Given the Chance, Would Elain or Nesta Go Back to Being Human?
Nesta: Yes. Without hesitation. If she could take the power and give it back, I think she would. Being made into something else was a theft of her will. She hates that. Even if being Fae comes with advantages, she values her humanity too much to accept what was done to her. Her trauma is tied not just to the war, but to transformation without consent.
Elain: I’m not sure. I think Elain would say yes. But when the time came, she might hesitate. Because now she’s in a system where her beauty and quietness are praised. As a human, she would have been married off and forgotten. As a fae, she’s still a pawn—but a valued one. There’s a dark allure to that.
Was Being Made Fae a Blessing or a Curse?
For all three sisters, I think the answer is the same: it depends who you ask—and who benefits.
From a survival standpoint, being fae kept them alive. But from a moral standpoint? From a trauma standpoint? It was a violation. They lost the right to choose what their bodies would become. Their lives were rewritten by violence. Their “salvation” came at the cost of identity, autonomy, and peace.
And the courts treat it like a gift.
That’s the insidious part.
What If This Were Real? If I Were Turned Fae?
This is where it becomes deeply personal.
If I were forced to become something I never asked to be—something that altered my body, my lifespan, my future—I’d be devastated. Furious. Grieving. Because what happened to the Archeron sisters is bodily violation, cloaked in beauty and power.
And grief doesn’t go away just because the new life looks prettier. I’d mourn everything I’d lost. My future. My humanity. My choice.
Eventually, maybe I’d make peace with it. Maybe I’d find community, and safety, and even joy. But it wouldn’t erase the betrayal. And I’d carry that scar forever.
