#DOTSS fic

[kopfkino-o]

Daughter of the Summer Sea: Chapter One

Summary: They call them the Spear-Daughters of Summer and they are the fierce female warriors of the Summer Court known for their unshakeable bravery and the wicked three-pronged spears with which they fight. Having finally left the Library and more dedicated to her Valkyrie unit than ever, Gwyn finds herself charged with heading south to Adriata to learn from these infamous Spear-Daughters to expand both her fight knowledge and battle strategy, but to also seek out other Low Fae females interested in reclaiming their own power and fates by joining the Valkyrie ranks. But there is more than just sun and surf waiting for her amongst the bone-white streets of Adriata and, soon, Gwyn must ask herself: who does she want to be and where does her heart truly lay.

Pairing: Gwyn x Tarquin

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Wordcount: 1628

Author’s Note: TARGWYN FIC LET’S GOOO! This is probably one of my most favorite crackships of all time and Adriata/Summer Court is probably my favorite Prythian setting outside of Velaris. I started working on this as a one-shot for @sjmcrackshipmonth​ but I have no self control and the story has since spiraled into something bigger. 

Updates will come as I finish each chapter. Like my other fic, I’ll be posting this to my AO3 account for those who want to follow the story over there! You can find me at @courtwritesalot 💙

Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading!

- Court

The bone-white walls of Adriata snaked along the rocky sea cliffs like the spine of a great slumbering beast. 

High seashell towers and turquoise-capped parapets and buildings hewn from glimmering coral and pearl adorned the foreign city set against the backdrop of an azure sea, the sheer beauty of the Summer Court's capital evident even at this distance. Even the crowded port bustling with trading galleys from every court and continent was beautiful in its own chaotic way, the rainbow of many colored sails sliding in on the evening tide a mesmerizing sight to behold.

It was, undeniably, unlike anything Gwyneth Berdara had ever seen.

Her chest was alive with fluttering nerves, her arrival on the white sand beaches of the Summer Court long since anticipated, her journey here having been planned months ago, and yet the sight before her somehow surpassed all expectations.

Gwyn had read countless books on the Summer Court and its capital city's splendor, had studied reports and travel logs and cultural assessments until her eyes bled, but nothing could have prepared her for this. The sun and sand, the sheer size of the Summerstone Palace on its high sea cliff, the sight of the Summer Court's gold and teal banners waving lazily in the sea-salt breeze. It was almost as if the Mother herself had bestowed these lands with a kernel of her own ethereal grace.

This is what you've been missing, a familiar voice murmured in the back of her mind, as it so often did. 

A stray tear slipped down Gwyn’s cheek, the lingering memory of her sister’s voice breaking the dam of emotions she’d been fighting to keep back all day. 

"Forgive me," She said, blinking away the tears and wiping her eyes dry before her High Lady could see. "I never expected to feel so overwhelmed by the sight of another city."

Feyre Archeron merely smiled, understanding filling the High Lady of the Night Court’s eyes, and gently patted Gwyn’s hand, her touch warm and steadying.

"I felt the same way the first time I saw the city, too," The High Lady said softly, blue eyes drifting out across the half-moon bay. "There is nowhere else in the world quite like Adriata. And no one half as kind as Cressida and Tarquin. They'll treat you like a treasured guest throughout your entire stay."

Gwyn could only manage a nod. There was so much to be grateful for on this day. Her freedom from the Library, the weight of her sword down her back, the gesture of friendship Feyre had shown her by taking the time to winnow her all the way here. And her closest friend by her side, here to see her off.

Her eyes slid sideways, daring to tear her gaze away from the sparkling city just long enough to study Nesta’s silent form. 

The General of the Valkyries had been quiet ever since Gwyn had arrived on the steps of the Riverhouse so Feyre might winnow her south. She was distant, contemplative, like there was something she wanted to say but didn’t know how.

But Gwyn didn’t need her friend to speak the words aloud for her to understand: it pained Nesta to see Gwyn go. It pained Gwyn too. 

The idea of leaving Velaris had been enough to nearly cripple her and keep her locked deep beneath the House of Wind amongst the dusty shelves and quiet serenity of the Library, but every night she lay down to sleep, every night she considered abandoning the journey altogether, she could hear her sister's voice softly urging her to go.

To the sea, sister, the ghost of Catrin’s voice would whisper, You must make it to the sea.

And so, if only for the honor of her memory, if only because Catrin would never get to see these azure waters, this bone-white city, Gwyn had gone. 

Feyre cleared her throat and toed the pristine white sand with the tip of a black leather boot. “There are some... friends I need to say hello to,” The High Lady said, eyes snagging on the surf crashing against the beach below. She gave Gwyn a parting smile before turning to Nesta and gently squeezing her sister’s shoulder. “Come find me when you’re ready, Nes.”

A heavy silence settled between Gwyn and Nesta as they watched the High Lady climb down the rocky face of the sea cliff, the soft murmur of the sea breeze and the distant cry of ship bells filling the space between them.

Gwyn closed her eyes and let the uncertain mix of emotions wash over her, a bittersweet taste of uncertainty and anticipation, fear and curious excitement. She would be gone from Velaris for three months, the longest stretch of time she’d ever been away from the Night Court. The only time she’d ever been away. 

It unsteadied her, the thought of the great distance and long stretch between her and her home, and yet,it set something strange inside her to shimmering too. 

“I’m going to miss you.” 

Gwyn turned sharply towards Nesta at the sound of the softly spoken words. Her friend, her sister, was still staring out across the sea, gaze fixed on the horizon as if she might find some sort of answer hidden within its vast expanse.

"I'm going to miss you too, Nesta." Gwyn replied softly, fighting the urge to let her voice break. “And Emerie. And Azriel and Cassian, and Deirdre and Rosalin too. Mother's blessing, but I think I might even miss Merrill."

Nesta chuckled, but the lightness of the sound did not quite reach her face. "I fear they're going to fall apart without your leadership." She said, still refusing to meet Gwyn’s eye.

"I'm sure Mor will keep them in line. She’s proving to be quite the addition to our ranks. The girls will listen to her council just fine.”

"But not as well as they’d listen to you."

Gwyn's heart swelled with pride and humility at Nesta's words. The Valkyries had grown exponentially this last year under the leadership they shared with Emerie. Not solely because of them, of course, but also because of the sheer grit and determination of the women who joined in their ranks each and every day. It was half the reason why she was here, so very far from home, in the first place.

"It's only three months," Gwyn said, reaching for Nesta's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “That's hardly even a blink over the course of our immortal lives. I'll be back in Velaris before you even know to miss me. Plus, the recruiting efforts here will be good for us. We need a unit of spears if we want to truly make the Illyrians blanche.”

Nesta's warm fingers squeezed her own, so tight Gwyn nearly saw stars. "Three months," She echoed then held up her free hand, the charm on the friendship bracelet she still wore even after all these months catching in the sunlight. "No matter how far the distance, no matter how great the cost."

Gwyn's heart strained at the word of the Valkyries’ official creed.

"No matter how far the distance, no matter how great the cost," She echoed, then added the final line of their creed. “We face the mountain together, for as long as I have my sisters, no battle shall be lost.”

Then Nesta embraced her and hugged Gwyn so tight she swore she could hear her bones sing. But she didn’t care. She hugged Nesta back, breathing in the winter mourning and steel scent of her and memorizing the feel of her sister’s arms around her as their sacred words settled in her chest like an ember.

When Nesta finally pulled away, Gwyn could have sworn silver lined her friend’s blue eyes but just as quickly as it appeared the softness was replaced with the hard determination of a warrior. 

A general. 

“You go out there and learn and show them how a Valkyrie wields a spear,” Nesta said, command and authority filling her voice. “Show them what we are building, what we have made ourselves into. Show them what they too could be.”

Gwyn lifted three fingers to her brow in salute. “On your orders, Lady General.” 

Nesta returned the gesture. “Mother guide you, Berdara.” 

“And you, Archeron.” 

Gwyn scooped up her pack and left her friend there on the sea cliff,  fighting the tears stinging in her eyes and the urge to look back at her friend one last time as she scrambled up the rocky terrain to the road that would lead her to the gates of Adriana. 

The tears came nonetheless, emotions flooding through her as she began to walk, and Gwyn began to curse herself for her insecurities one moment, then slid back into the pit of her old anxieties the next.

She had three months to learn the art of the three-pronged spear well enough to teach it to an entire unit of women. Three months to win over the Princess and Prince, bolstering not only further confidence in the fragile alliance between them and the Night Court, but also earning their permission to gather women from their court to bring into the Valkyrie ranks. The worries flowed and ebbed. She wasn’t sure she could do it. Wasn’t sure she was strong enough, wise enough, brave enough. She was one woman and a woman who’d spent most of her life hidden away from the world at that.

Then Gwyn rounded a soft bend on the Summer Road and all those worries, all those fears and uncertainties, died in her chest, a single thread unspooling as she beheld the massive golden gates of the city and Adriata waiting beyond.

To the sea, sister. 

#Daughter of the Summer Sea fic #DOTSS fic #targwyn #targwyn fanfic #gwyn x tarquin #gwyneth berdara #tarquin #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar crackship month #acotar crackship #gwyn acotar #tarquin acotar #summer court #adriata #gwyn berdara

[kopfkino-o]

Daughter of the Summer Sea - A Preview

Gwyn x Tarquin is one of my most beloved crackships and I can’t wait to start publishing some of the fic I’ve come up for these two in July. But in the meantime, here’s a wee preview!

I. 

Adriata was a dream. 

The seashell cobbles were soft underfoot, the bone white towers lining the narrow street loyal sentinels , the blue and white painted homes all happy passersby. Even the monstrous mother of pearl dome of the Temple of the Summer Son had an air of warmth to it. 

A warmth Gwyn had never felt so tangibly.

It was in the heavy humid air, in the soft laughter of the residents that flooded down the tight city streets, in the spiced smells drifting up from the open-air markets, in the genuine smiles and easy greetings of the strangers she passed by as she wandered.

I told you, her sister’s voice curled at the edges of her mind. 

II. 

Cressida twirled her spear, the three golden prongs of the weapon flashing beneath the oppressive afternoon sun, and, in one swift movement she drove Gwyn back and back and back again until she pressed hard against the armory wall. 

“You lose, priestess.” 

Their chests were heaving. The Princess had a small, satisfied look on her face that only served to boil Gwyn’s blood further. 

So she drew her own spear up between them, the movement so fast Cressida had no chance to even react, and with a strangled grunt Gwyn shoved her back into the ring. Shoved her so hard Cressida went sprawling into the sand.

“Not quite yet, Princess.” 

III. 

Tarquin cleared his throat, the High Lord notably uncomfortable beneath the prying eyes of his court and foreign courtiers. No one, however, seemed to care. 

But she did.

Gwyn remembered what it was like, all those questions and prying eyes and faces she did not know pestering her over matters of politics she had no real interest in.

Where is the foot of the Cauldron? How was the Temple infiltrated? When did they come, how did they find you? And the children, what of them?

Yes, Tarquin was the High Lord of Summer, and such duties were his own, but he was, at the end of the day, a person too.

He deserved to enjoy today. Deserved to celebrate the Summer Solstice as he saw fit. And, despite knowing it wasn’t her place, despite knowing she looked so at odds compared to the rest of the court in her fish-scale armor and flowing teal headdress, Gwyn made her way to his side nonetheless.

IV. 

“May I have this dance?” Tarquin asked softly.

She had this dress, so beautiful it looked like pure seafoam spun into silk, and she had this ache in her heart, these stars in her eyes, and there he was, hand extended, lips parted in a dazzling smile, bright eyes silently hoping she would join him.

And Mother spare her, how she wanted to dance with him.

#Gwyn x Tarquin #targwyn #acotar #acotar crackship month #gwyneth berdara #tarquin x gwyn #tarquin #Summer Court #Daughter of the Summer Sea #DoTSS #DoTSS fic