Why Rhysand and Dorian Aren’t Perfect: Character Flaws in Sarah J. Maas’s MMCs

Because redemption means keeping authors accountable for their characters' flaws.

If you’ve ever listened to the podcast Jac and I host, Book Talk for BookTok, then you know we are consistent: consistently critical of characters and their journeys. When we covered Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR) and then A Court of Mist and Fury (ACOMAF), we were shocked at the outcry from our listeners who were appalled at our critical comments about Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. This pattern occurred when we began the Throne of Glass series, with some readers expressing frustration with our criticism of Dorian Havilliard, Crown Prince of Adarlan.

We love these characters in all their messy glory. But just because Dorian is noble and swoon-worthy by the time Kingdom of Ash (the final book in Maas’s Throne of Glass series) is finished, just because he’s had an arduous journey in an eight-book series, doesn’t absolve him of being a lazy, selfish 19-year-old boy at the series’s start. A character’s hard-won redemption doesn’t excuse their actions at their lowest point.

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Ugly Character Flaws Beget Beautiful Character Arcs

Readers seem to be particularly defensive when it comes to the male characters and less so with the female characters (hello, internalized misogyny). To say that Rhysand and Dorian are beloved would be a disservice to the fervor with which they are defended by readers. I absolutely support the fact that they are loved so dearly because I recognize that they undergo emotional development, and their intense journeys hold great meaning to many readers.

However, anyone who tries to argue that these males do not start selfish is, in my opinion, blatantly forgetting the beginning of the series and / or discrediting Sarah J. Maas’s writing.

Let me explain.

Dorian Havilliard’s Early Flaws in Throne of Glass

The Dorian Havilliard we meet in Throne of Glass (the novel) is bored with his life, flippant and argumentative with his mother, views women as playthings whose names he forgets, and wants to possess Celaena Sardothien like a shiny toy. Let’s not forget his most attractive feature -- liberating Celaena from her enslavement only on the basis of wanting to win a bet.

Rhysand’s Selfish Beginnings in ACOTAR

Likewise, Rhysand is equally tied up in himself when readers encounter him Under-the-Mountain in A Court of Thorns and Roses. He drugs Feyre and uses her to piss off Tamlin because Rhysand resents Tamlin’s lack of effort over the past 50-years while they’ve been under Amarantha’s curse. When the High Lord of the Night Court tries to bargain with Feyre, he lashes out and twists a broken shard of bone protruding from her arm to get what he wants from her. He may come across as more affectionate by the end of the novel and into the start of ACOMAF, but at the end of the day, he starts out motivated to ruin Tamlin’s happiness because Tamlin did nothing to lift Amarantha’s curse when he had the power to do so.

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Absolved or Unabsolved: The Magic Wand of Craft Mastery

These facts aside, the reality is that Sarah J. Maas deliberately starts her male characters at particularly low points, allowing them to have a trajectory for meaningful character development alongside the heroine’s powerful character development (and sometimes the men’s journey gets worse before it gets better). The devotion of readers to the male characters by the end of the series is proof that Maas writes compelling character arcs. To deny the existence of their earlier character flaws either means Maas did too good a job or readers completely discredit and devalue the mastery she has developed for her craft.

Maybe most importantly, failing to acknowledge the beginning of a character’s journey unjustly absolves the author and their character of their deliberate flaws. To me, that normalizes the narrative of “oh well, boys will be boys” and perpetuates systemic misogyny. Don’t get me wrong, I believe this of female characters as well, since they also start deeply flawed before they evolve into saints by the end of the series (hello, Aelin Galathynius).

I believe it’s absolutely fair to call out these characters and their authors and hold them accountable for their actions. I don’t expect the character to be perfect instantly or even halfway through the series. What I do expect is that the author provides an opportunity for the character to learn from their errors and develop in a way that makes them redeemable by the end. This is especially true for the protagonists and companions we’re expected to love and idolize. Similarly, I hope readers recognize the artistry it takes for the author to provide such a complex and emotional journey and appreciate the lows as much as they value the highs.

As a fan of Sarah J. Maas’s work, I marvel at the talent she brings to every one of her stories, especially when it comes to character development. Every moment of every book is intentional and can be directly tied to a necessary lever or push along one of her characters’ arcs. This is why we are so protective of Dorian as a fandom and enamored with Rhys. And while their character journeys have been fully realized, I am confident Maas has stories waiting in the wings to make even the most unlovable characters adored and unforgettable. And my theory is that one day, we’re all going to love Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, after his long, long journey to redemption takes place.

Tell me in the comments if you disagree, or if there is a different character you expect needs some more development to earn redemption. I’d love to explore this with you!

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A writer and podcaster with an M.Ed. in Higher Education & a B.A. in Creative Writing, Amy S. Yen deep dives into 90s-00s nostalgia to make-up for lost time growing up in China, devours smutty audiobooks on her work commute, and reimagines literary classics into contemporary LGBTQ romance novels.