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offthepages · 9 days

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And so, the stars aligned. Pt. 2

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader

Summary: Azriel knew you can't read. And he knows you would never admit it. So he tricks you into taking reading lessons.

Warnings: Slight mentions of nightmares.

part one part three, Part Four Masterlist Requests are open!!

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You had come into your room to grab something. And had lost every train of thought as you saw the note neatly placed on top of the book you carted around for show- not quite sloppy hand writing but it was clearly male and in a rush. A...stick figure drawing of you? Clearly Feyre had not drawn this. But there is an attention to detail, your hair is colored correctly, and your eyes also the right shade- or as close as you could get in crayon. Truthfully, it could have been anyone female but since it was in your room, it was safe to assume. And then a book- the library? Is that where this mystery would be solved. You were far too curious now to just not go.

And so, you folded the note up and put in into one of your pockets. Heading down there quickly. The only sound as you enter is the clicking of your shoes. Looking around you, and making your way over to Clotho's desk. The priest doesn’t look up at you but quickly writes, 'Ah, y/n to what do we owe the pleasure?'

You smile and pull out the note to show it to her. "It seems- I was summoned." Clotho's amusement oozes off her and she simple writes.

'Go down to level five and you should find what you're looking for.' Squinting suspiciously at her for just a second you debate listening. But that is your inner Nesta speaking, and as much as you loved your oldest sister you didn't want to be completely like her. So, complying with a general order wouldn’t be an issue.

Thanking Clotho quickly you make your way down to the fifth level. And you could have throttled Azriel as he looked over at you with a set of children's books, letter sheets and pencils. He was leisurely sitting there, legs crossed, his ankle resting on his thigh. Arms crossed as he looked at you. And knowing him, while his face remained neutral- he had a feline smirk just like Rhys’s on the inside. Stomping over, crossing your arms and glaring down at the Illyrian man you hiss, "What are you doing?"

"Teaching you how to read." He answers simply, not even slightly phased by your intense gaze. The shadows that normally linger around him aren’t there, instead- as if to mock how little of a threat you are- they pool at his feet like a dog. You'd have to talk to Nesta about getting that icy glare down pat.

"You're still on about that?" You scuff, turning on your heel to leave him with his silly ideas. But before you can get far, a gentle but rough hand grabs your elbow.

"If you can read, then I'll accept I was wrong and even buy you dinner." Azriel compromises. But he knew better, he saw the way your eyes glazed over when they looked at your book and there was no rhyme or reason as to when you flipped the page. Normally people had consistency when they were reading, You had none. Even when Nesta was reading smut there was consistency to it- albeit the page turns got faster but it was still consistent.

You were convinced you could do this. You didn't need him to know this about you. Not even your sisters knew- sure Nesta and Elain probably had inklings to it but you were just six when poverty struck. They were just kids too, it wasn't there job to teach you. Sitting down at the table you looked at the page. It was easy- just trace the letters. You could do that. So you picked up the pencil and started. And once you were done you slid it over to him. "See?"

He nods, taking the sheet and looking it over. Nodding as he examines the work. Then he sets it down and meets your intense eyes, but he doesn't shy away. He takes the first book off the stack. It was a young child's book- it should be a breeze for someone of your age. Prick. You think as he slides it over and folds his hands on the table. Watching the way your eyes widen. Your breathing hitches and there's a slight tremble to your hands as you take the book. He knows that look in your eyes- it's the one Feyre gets when she's calculating a plan. And he couldn't deny that he was slightly excited to see what you'd come up with.

Flipping open the book you know what he's probably looking for is some sortive consistency, so you'd let your eyes look at each word and then flip the page. And so, that's what you did. Finding it hard to keep up your little deception with his eyes focused so intensely on you. But you got to the end of the book and closed it with a triumphant smack. Looking back up at him- before you can open your mouth to speak, Azriel looks at you and asks. "What was it about?"

Shit. Fuck. You didn't look at the pictures! You quickly look down at the book and see a dog and a young boy on the cover. "Its about a dog and his owner." You say as evenly as you can manage for how fast your heart was beating. Azriel raises an eyebrow. Silently waiting for more. "When did you get so expressive?" You ask to quickly change the subject.

"I don't have to be on guard here. There is no one else around. And the priestess won't judge me for showing an emotion." He addresses your question simply, smoothly. Damn him and his stupid sliver tongue. He was the Shadowsinger! Of course he knew how to evade topics and questions to redirect to what he wanted! He taps the book in between the two of you again. And you look at his hands, scars running all along them, and of course you had know that. But it was the first time that you saw them this clearly. And as much as you wanted to get out of this situation- you knew that question was out of the question. "What is this about?" His voice remains gentle, but slightly stern.

Azriel watches you for any signs. He had seen many of them- you were a bad liar. Your emotions written all over your face. Your eyes, they showed everything. How no one else saw it astonished him. And for a second, as he watches how you look down at the book with apprehension and sorrow, that you quickly wash away once your gazes meet again...he sees your resolve break.

"Fine." You say quietly. "I can't read." Your cheeks heat at the confession- it felt so...so...mortifying that you were now twenty, an immortal High Fae and had no idea how to read. "Please don't tell the others." The last thing you wanted was for your sisters to look at you with that pitiful look they always seemed to give you when you mentioned something. Let alone, how awful it make you feel if Nesta fell back into her vices. Granted you knew Cassian wouldn’t let that happen.

He thinks his heart might just burst for a moment. Seeing you so somber. Azriel had watched you from the second you were dumped out of that Cauldron. Shaking, crying, gasping for air. The first thing you did was try and push it over so your sisters wouldn’t bare the same fate. And for the first few weeks after, when he heard your screams in the middle of the night. He'd make sure you were alright, given you the space to talk to him if needed. You rarely took the opportunity. Pushing him away despite him reaching out. Keeping him at an arms length for reasons he didn’t understand. Time, though. Everyone kept telling him with time, you’d come around. But you pushed him right into Elain. Not that he hated your older sister. No, far from it. They were good friends, they could talk for hours about anything and everything. But she wasn't you. She wasn't his. She had her mate, and Rhys has made it clear to him that despite his feelings toward her- they could never be. Lucian wouldn't accept it until she flat out rejected him, and even then they had no idea what the other male would do. Rhys didn't want to loose his brother over a girl. And while Azriel grumbled and snarled at him, deep down. He knew that he was right.

But watching you, moving through the Night Court with a smile that didn't reach your eyes and a grace that rivaled Elain's...Hearing your laugh in a crowed room and smiling into his drink. He knew that you made yourself seem happy, chipper, played the part of the sweet younger sister for everyone. So looking at you now, as your cheeks burn red and tears threaten to spill out of your eyes. He'd do anything he could to make sure you'd never look like that again. Azriel gently takes your hand, letting his thumb swipe over your knuckles as you look up at him. "I won't tell a soul."

And you believe him. The sincerity in his eyes, he's got no reason to lie to you. But you can't help the smile that creeps up. "Thank you."

And a comfortable silence falls as you both continue to look at each other and let your thoughts run free. Before Azriel clears his throat- and you were about 87% sure that there was a blush creeping in. "I can continue to teach you, if you'd like."

Looking down at the book in between you, where your hand was still in his. Tracing the lines of his scars gently, you nodded. "I think i'd like that."

Azriel didn't bother to hide his smile.

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a/n: This got very long, very fast. But I hope you all like it! Let me know if there is anything else you guys wanna see! And if y’all wanna be added to the tag list, let me know! :3

tag list: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92

#azriel x reader #acotar series #acotar fanart #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #pro nesta #nesta acotar #elain x lucien #elain archeron #pro elain

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historiaxvanserra · 4 months

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Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of | Chapter 2

Pairing: SingleDad!Rhys x Reader

Summary: The High Lord of Night makes a bargain with a beautiful Priestess and he has come to collect.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: allusions to sexual assault, allusions to depression, abandonment, broken homes (y'know keeping it light, in all seriousness this is not all angst it's quite sweet actually).

Last night you dreamt you went to Hewn City again.

You are a girl; coloured in the shadowed jade light of the Moonstone Palace, and your body feels unlike your own. A hostile vessel-- empty and aching-- longing for some semblance of release. You call into the darkness words akin to prayers; Mother, save me; Father, please.

From the darkness no answer comes.

Then, as all dreamers are, you are possessed of a sudden magic; you walk the halls of The Moonstone Palace. As a shadow or a memory. The cursed daughter of a capricious Lord. An Ill-faded bride to a mercurial God. The time passes strangely there in the dark dreamscape; the passing of time marked only by the slivers of opal light that pierce through the blanket of the dark each night. Fractured rays of pearlescent light that dapple the marble floors and high, onyx ceilings. You cherish those fleeting moments where hope bleeds into you with the rapidly falling night. It is those moments you cling to as dawn breaks.

The morning light creeps in like hunger; veins of first light that cascade-- all golden and ephemeral-- cutting through the darkness of your dormitory as the dream slips away from you again. A figure, obscured by your sleep addled haze, falls into view and you feel it as their weight settles at your side. The feeling of a fine bone hand runs along your bare arm, soothing and gentle and she whispers words close to comfort to you as the world around you comes back to life.

A myriad of light and color.

“Clotho is looking for you,” Gwny smiles down at you and her eyes shine in the first light. All glinting cerulean -- flecked with gold -- reminiscent of a diadem your mother had worn when you were a girl. That diadem and all memory of the woman you called mother is little more than a distant dream now.

A cruel reminder of the home you left.

“What does she want?” You murmur lowly as the fleeting remnants of sleep still cling to you. You rise with haste from your bed with a quiet reluctance and make quick work of pulling on your heavy pewter robes before the morning chill has time to kiss its way up your bare skin. Judging by the slivers of gold light that spill onto the plush rug beneath your bare feet it must only be about 9am but nonetheless, you’re late at starting the day. Gwyn hovers by your cluttered desk, flicking over some of the parchments there, as you dress hastily. By the time you’re covered and running a comb through your unbound hair you turn to face her.

She’s dressed in dark training leathers and her long auburn hair is adorned with white and silver ribbons that make her look as though she is crowned in starlight. She is every inch the Valkyrie in this light you think. Half-divine with an ethereal look about her.

Like a tragic heroine from some old myth.

“I didn’t ask,” Gwyn shrugs and her eyes meet yours in the broken mirror as your fingers twist and braid your hair as it cascades over your shoulder. Something flickers in those blue gold eyes then, some devilment pools in them as she regards you with a delighted smile that arches on smirking.

“Come on, you’ve got a visitor too.” You smooth a hand over the ill-fitting robes and sigh dramatically as you collect the scrolls and the hastily written notes you’d been studying. Gwyn retreats from your dormitory laughing and humming playfully as you fall into step with her as she rounds the corner into the Library itself. A night chilled breeze graces you as you descend into the lower levels where Clotho will be waiting for you and as you approach the balcony overlooking the ground floor you catch the scent of night blooming jasmine and citrus.

That smell seems to follow you these days. It smells so much of the home that you left all those years ago.

A cruel trick of the mind.

Sunlight filters through the large stained glass window that lights the antechamber of the library and as you round the stone pillars the world as you know it is crowned in gold light as the shadowed sun beams illuminate the great cavern of the Library. The Library deep in the bowels of The House of Wind is a feat of architectural grandeur; Like Hewn City, the house itself is carved into the dark stone of the mountain that looms over the City of Starlight, and everything within is saturated in shades of coal and bone. The Library itself is made up of a series of levels and floors, all held in place by dark pillars of the same stone. The large Gothic archways are adorned with carvings and intricate patterns and tapestries -- embroidered on black cloth -- illustrate the mythos of the court you were born into. Tales of dark Gods and gentle maidens. As a girl you had spent many nights enamored by the dark magnetism of the Gods of old and the cruel and beautiful Goddesses they loved. The Library, sacred as it is, breeds a strange sense of reverence in you. For the knowledge contained between its sanctified walls.

The Library is home to the High Lord’s vast collection of Prythian’s mythological texts; Holy relics of the arcane Gods which had once been venerated and revered in these lands so long ago. All that is left of them now, resides in the deepest part of the Library, where you spend most of your days. There in the bowels of the Library something ancient and foreboding calls to you. The knowledge contained here in the dark heart of Velaris could bring kingdoms to their knees if one were so inclined. And in truth, you had thought about surrendering yourself to the call of the darkness that lies dormant in the depths of the mountains more times than you can count or would care to admit. In it, you feel something kindred to you; something aching and empty that resonates somewhere deep in your soul.

As if the very fibers of your being are composed of the same darkness.

When the High Lord had first brought you to the library-- broken and aching-- there existed in you a vengeful wrath that longed to rage until the mountains gave way beneath you. Until the men who had hurt you were nought but dust and age-worn bone. All that rage. All that grief. It had been a terrible thing; haunting and terrible. But it had been yours. So you clung to it, until the girl you were was dead and buried beneath that mountain. And from her ashes the woman was born; tempered by time, and made strong by the faith you had found there in the library’s darkening aisles, in sisterhood, and in forgiveness.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Gwyn’s gentle humming as you are cast out of the memories that come back to you in flashes of jade and twilight.

“I best get back to Merrill before she comes for my head,” Gwyn exclaims loudly, smiling so bright that you’re sure she must be up to something. You offer her a small nod and a polite goodbye which she returns in earnest as her footsteps fall in sporadic succession and they echo down the aisles. You smile at her fondly and descend further into the main floor of the library still clutching onto the hastily compiled notes that are stuffed into the small cloth bound book you had been reading. Anxiety pools in your stomach, coiling and twisting as you approach Clotho’s office.

The office is situated on the main floor of the library and as you approach through the long, empty aisles the door to Clotho’s office falls into view and the swings open with a magical flourish. Through it a large figure emerges followed by the beautiful Priestess, who looks utterly impassive, even in the presence of such an intimidating figure as the High Lord.

You had always admired Clotho; her unwavering courage and fierce devotion to the Priestesses in her care. Her soothing presence and gentle smiles had been a source of comfort and strength for you in those first few months where you had thought you might surrender yourself to the mercy of the darkness that lurks in the bottom of this sacred Library. Since then it is her courage that had made you strong and her friendship that you valued above all else. There was a faith in the sisterhood you had found here, bonds forged of suffering and healing, made strong by the time in these sacred walls.

Now you must find something else to put your faith into. Who or what that might be you are not entirely certain. Yourself perhaps. And though Clotho was hesitant about your decision to leave the library and her behind, she had offered you her support and comfort all the same.

You approach the Priestess and your High Lord with a quiet caution as your school your face to a neutral expression that doesn’t speak to your rippling anxiety at the thought of leaving the place you had come to know as home or the women who you had come to call family.

The High Lord catches your eyes first; he’s swathed in shadow as he steps out and then the light cast through the windows wreaths him in a halo of topaz light and when his violet eyes find yours in the empty aisle he smiles at you. A carefully curated thing that glitters with false charm and behind the violet of his irises you see the darkness that lurks within them. Something kindred to you.

Made of the same darkness.

“There she is!” The High Lord of Night muses, his well-sculpted arms branching out towards you as if in prayer, “my favorite acolyte.” The High Lord's voice is tempered and light, with an air of arrogance about him that makes you smile shyly as he makes three long strides towards you.

There it is again; night-blooming jasmine and mandarin.

Clotho waits a few paces behind him in wordless silence but the silver lined eyes and sad smile she offers you is an indicator of her true feelings at your leaving. And though you don’t broach the subject at that moment you offer her the promise to find her soon. So that you might say goodbye to your dearest friend in the privacy of her office. She only nods and quietly retreats into her office with a few books.

“I’ve sworn my vows,” You offer gently, surrendering yourself to the enigmatic male that stands before you.

Rhysand leans casually against the desk in the forum, his violet eyes trailing lazily over the elaborate cursive on the parchment left by another Priestess, one of his hands is buried in the pocket of his suit pants and the other flexing around the lip of the lectern. In this light, as the sun bleeds through the stained glass windows, he looks like an old God from one of the tapestries hung along the slate walls.

Cut from the same holy cloth.

At once The High Lord meets your eyes and you resist the urge to avert that arresting violet gaze. Instead you offer him the ghost of a smirk as you address him again.

“So, I believe it is Priestess to you, High Lord.” The High Lord’s laugh is a wondrous thing as it permeates the air, rich and deep, and shaded with that same dark magnetism you had witnessed that first night.

“Well then, Priestess, I believe we made a bargain,” Rhysand pushes himself from his perch on the armoire and closes the space between you. He’s so close that you swear he will hear the flutter of your heart as he meets your eyes, “and I’ve come to collect.” His voice drops an octave and the words are tainted with an air of seduction that makes you feel anxious even if you’re certain he doesn’t mean it. Even if you see the morose darkness behind those violet eyes.

Rhysand studies you carefully and you feel his eyes on you even as you turn to shelve the book that you had cradled in your arms. Your silence does little to calm the air around you as you turn swiftly from him. “You still want to come, yes?” Rhysand sounds hesitant and quiet as he broaches the subject. You swallow thickly and cast your eyes along the long aisle of the library you had called home for the last few years.

“Would it matter if I didn’t?” You laugh lightheartedly, gesturing to the tattoo brandished into your skin, still unable to meet his gaze. The High Lord doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t so much as smile half-heartedly. Rather, the High Lord draws dark, thick brows together as the swell of his bottom lip moves into a deep frown. So mournful and aching that you’re sure you feel your heart ache for him in response.

“Of course it would matter,” The High Lord’s voice wavers once more as he addresses you with a sad smile. He’s so beautiful in this light and you regard him as you do all holy things, with equal parts reverence and anxiety.

“You know that, don’t you?” There’s an uncertain quality to his demeanor that disarms you. He’s always struck you as this enigmatic and confident male, with an almost louche quality to him that seemed to exude and air of rehearsed arrogance. But now. Now you see him for what he is; something dark and beautiful and fragile. There is a hesitancy about him as he steps away from you as though the mere distance between you is enough for him to feel untethered to this plane. Left to drift amidst a vast, starless sky

It is you, who closes that gap once more in a bold display of trust and despite the tremor of your own hand when the heat of the High Lord’s golden skin melts into yours, you smile at him as one might smile at something lovely and full of sorrow.

And he smiles back-- as though you and he are not both broken, fragile things.

“Yes,” You admit truthfully.

There is so little that you are certain of now but you know this: that you and he are made of the same darkness -- born from the same star perhaps -- and that with him, you will always have a choice.

“Yes, I do, High Lord.”

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“This will be your bedroom,” Rhysand offers with a wave of his hand before it wraps around the burnished gold doorknob to reveal the room nestled between the nursery and his own chambers “I hope it is to your liking?”

The guest room in the High Lords townhouse is just as beautiful as the rest of the house; sunlight, golden and ephemeral, cuts through the drawn linen curtains and cascades along the dark mahogany floors. Through the open window you can hear melodious birdsong from the garden below and as you step into it’s heart, the view of the dark marble fountain at its center that looks as though it is carved from the same mountains that flank the city. The garden itself is coloured with the climbing ivy and moonflowers that arch up the trellis and is shaded by a thick canopy of cypress and bergamot trees, whose citrus scent seems to bleed into the room itself.

“It’s absolutely breathtaking,” You say, smiling so brightly that you’re sure it must rival the midday sun as it bathes you in its radiant light. The rooms' furnishings are made of rich rose wood and the walls are painted a muted sage blue color that reminds you so much of the robes you wear and the bed nestled into the alcove is adorned with many quilts and duvets of cream and pewter and mauve. You don’t think you’d ever seen anything quite as inviting.

The High Lord crosses the threshold and instead of joining you in the center of the room to admire the view of the gardens in the sunlight he opens the door to the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom itself is almost as big as the guest room, with a beautiful claw-foot tub in the middle of the room and both the walls and floors are made of a champagne marble with decadent flecks of gold. You take a few steps towards the washroom and perch by the door frame to admire the craftsmanship. Rhysand does the same and makes no effort to put any space between you as the quiet settles over you both as the shadowed sunlight illuminates the gold accents in the marble.

“There’s a writing desk over there,” Rhys says, retreating back into the main room, pointing towards a matching rose wood desk and chair with a mirror hung above it so that it doubles as a dressing table. “And an armoire there.” he points at the ornately carved chest of drawers by the desk.

“Though if you find you need more room for your clothes there’s plenty of space for another.”

“I think I’ll be alright with just the one,” You say lightly, eyes traveling to the small, worn leather bag at your feet that contains all of your worldly possessions; a few sets of nightclothes, two dresses that are half as old as you are, four well worn books that you had sequestered from the Library and a small collection of trinkets you’d collected over the last half a century. Hardly an extravagant amount of personal belongings but they were yours.

The High Lord hums thoughtfully at you and for a moment you think that he won’t think anything of it but then violet eyes drift to the worn leather satchel and though he doesn’t speak you see the look in his eyes as it morphs from neutral to something akin to pity.

You don’t want pity, you think, and you feel something dark and ravenous nip at the back of your throat. It’s an ugly thing that you bite your lip and swallow down lest you bite the hand that feeds you.

It had been so long since that anger and pride made itself known in your heart.

“If you need anything you just have to ask,” Rhysand says, offering you a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, he looks somewhere far off and you catch the scent of lilacs and pears when the breeze shifts, “whatever it is you want, you just have to ask.”

“Really Rhys, I don’t need anything else,” You make a move to haul your bag onto the plush velvet armchair by the window but in a flurry of movement Rhy takes it from you and places it on the small end table near the bed for you. “it’s beautiful, thank you.”

The High Lord does not respond, only smiles slyly at you from the end table, turning one of the straps of the brown leather bag in his deft fingers.

“What?” You ask with an accusatory tone, narrowing your eyes at the beautiful male beside you.

“Nothing,” The High Lord holds his hands up in surrender to you, his voice is velvet and lilting with his mirth as he looks at you again, “it’s just the first time you’ve called me my actual name.”

“I wonder what it would sound like in other situations.” He all but purrs and neither you nor he can manage to keep a straight face when you roll your eyes dramatically at him and elbow him sharply in the ribs.

The lull in the conversation comes with the passing of the afternoon clouds. They come in hordes of flowering grey and ivory, undercut with a darkness that spells a coming storm. In those quiet moments you watch as the confident facade that the High Lord wears so well melts away and he reverts back to the male you know him to be, tender and morose as the darkness in his eyes melts into a neutral expression that speaks to how truly tired he is.

“Get settled in and then come and find me later, Love.” Rhys voice is quiet and smooth and he offers you a gentle touch on your shoulder as he slips out into the hallway.

“Yes, High Lord.”

The High Lord’s eyes, iridescent and violet, meet yours and for a few moments while he is looking at you, you and he exist somewhere in the darkness between the stars.

TAGLIST: @awkardnerdd @ladybirdbeetle7 @lalaluch @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @coisas-da-dani @justdreamstars

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand fanfic #singledad!rhys x reader

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i-sneezed · 2 months

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But my question is, how is Gwyn's presence in the bonus chapter *not* meant to be a red herring?

Az and Gwyn getting together would be a huge deviation from the setup Az has with Elain in the actual books. SJM isn't going to completely change the direction of the plot in a bonus chapter the majority of readers won't see. That simply doesn't make any sense.

Seriously, when has a bonus chapter ever had an effect on the direction of the plot? Their whole purpose is to fill in some gaps/give extra context/offer some fluff.

I would also like to point out the similarities between Nesta's thoughts/feelings towards Gwyn in SF and Azriel's in the bonus chapter.

"The priestess drew up to her full height, which was slightly taller than average for Fae females. A crackling sort of energy buzzed around her, and Nesta's power grumbled in answer." - ACOSF ch. 9

"Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer." - Az BC

"She honestly didn't know why she wished to see Gwyn." - ACOSF ch. 14

"A bell rang seven times somewhere nearby. (...) Gwyn sang, a faint glow seeming to radiate from her. (...) She'd never heard such music. Like a spell, a dream given form. (...) Something beckoned in Gwyn's song, in a way the others' hadn't. Like Gwyn was calling only to her, her voice full of sunshine and joy and unshakeable determination." - ACOSF ch. 52

"Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. (...) Something sparked in Azriel's chest. (...) For whatever reason, he could see it." - Az BC

THIS is why so many Elriels think that the bonus chapter doesn't set up another couple, but instead gives more weight to the lightsinger theory.

There are too many similarities between how Nest and Azriel both react to Gwyn for this to be a coincidence.

And the fact that Azriel gets to the library at 7, which is when Gwyn sings (singing being the source of her power), it explains why he has these strong but seemingly inexplicable reactions. It's not a mating bond, it's Gwyn's lightsinging.

(However, I do want to add that I don't think this is being done purposefully on Gwyn's part.)

It makes way more sense narratively for the bonus chapter to make it look like Az may have another love interest when, in actuality, it's giving more evidence of another character's power, something already heavily hinted at in the main story.

You simply cannot convince me that there is any romantic tension between Az and Gwyn when the two don't even exchange any words until 80% of the way through ACOSF and she showed no interest in him romantically. And we are not going to see that tension for the first time in a bonus chapter that most people won't read.

#acotar #azriel #sjm #bonus chapter #pro elriel #gwyneth berdara #anti gwynriel #elain x azriel #elriel

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foxylady13 · 2 months

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"A thing of secret, lovely beauty"

Artist: Kloartz over on IG!

~Gwyn nimbly rolled to her feet, grinning so broadly that Nesta was momentarily taken aback by it. The priestess had been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses, she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor.

~Gwyn’s fingers slid into hers, squeezing tight. Nesta looked up to find her holding Emerie’s free hand as well. Gwyn smiled again, her eyes bright. “Our stories are worth telling.”

~Gwyn let out a high-pitched noise that was nothing but pure excitement. Azriel, on the other side of the ring with the rest of the priestesses, half-turned at the sound, brows high.

~Azriel had winnowed her and Cassian here after training, but hadn’t lingered. Apparently, Gwyn wanted him to go over dagger handling, so he’d left them with a promise to return in an hour.

From the bonus chapter: Which happens inbetween Ch. 58/59 of ACOSF

~His shadows peered over his wings at her. The young priestess smiled--and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows.

~“Aren't you cold?" His breath clouded in front of him. Gwyn shrugged. "Once you get moving, you stop noticing it." He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. He blocked out the bloody memory that fashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he'd been the one who'd found her that day at Sangravah. "Happy Solstice," she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing. He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?" (He's showing concern about her being cold and we have proof from Azriel he was there at Sangravah and Gwyn isn't making things up like the other side tries to say)

~Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. "I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."

"A comfort to every growing child." Azriel's lips twitched. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow. (Azriel shows more positive emotions with his interaction with Gwyn than seemingly around anyone else)

~How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

~She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?" Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes."

~Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. "I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days." Azriel laughed. "I’ll give you that." Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you." Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.

~"Happy Solstice," Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. "Don't stay out too much longer. You'll freeze." Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. (Again, Azriel is showing care/concern over Gwyn possibly being cold/out too long and just look at the wording used here)

How the bonus chapter ends:

Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

These scenes take place after the bonus chapter:

~Cassian glanced over at Az, but his attention was fixed on the young priestess, admiration and quiet encouragement shining from his face."

~The world seemed to pause at the words. As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction. In a hundred years, a thousand, this moment would still be etched in his mind. That he would tell his children, his grandchildren, Right then and there. That was when it all changed.

~Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved.

~Azriel clapped his hands, and all the females straightened. “You’ll work in groups of three.” Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, “What do we get if we finish the course?” Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.” Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”

~Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. “You have no idea what you just started,” she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway. “Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. “You’re the new ribbon, Az.”

~“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it." (Without hesitation, Azriel slaughtered all the soldiers and gave Gwyn his cloak.... similar to Lucien breaking free of his restraints without hesitation to get to Elain and give her his cloak)

After reading all this.... how can you NOT think Gwyn and Azriel are endgame? And this is what you missed on Glee......

#gwyneth berdara #pro gwyn #pro gwyneth berdara #pro gwyneth #gwyn acosf #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel's shadows #azriel #gwyn #azriel and gwyn #gwyn and azriel

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yazthebookish · 15 days

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I posted my take on the Lightsinger theory and Gwyn's "luring" powers theory on Reddit two days ago but thought I'll reshare it here (with some additional thoughts)

The only canon information we have on Lightsingers:

Nesta winced. Cassian went on as she scanned the bog, "There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you're in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren't fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food."

Does this correlate with anything Gwyn did in ACOSF? The answer is no.

I am not saying it is impossible for her to be a Lightsinger though where things stand it's unlikely in my opinion, but I'd attribute any potential powers either singing or glowing to her River Nymph heritage. We have no idea of her powers and she's also half High Fae of course she'll have powers like every other High Fae.

I think a lot of the "canon evidence" are different interpretations of the text but sometimes try to present itself as concrete evidence or proof when it isn't. Some attribute her singing during the services as the cause to Nesta having vision of the Prison and the Harp, but that also means we will have to ask what connection is there between Lightsingers and the Prison/Harp? And some believe it's the lyrics that trigger the vision as they're written in the ancient language and "Nesta saw what the song spoke of". Some believe Nesta power reacting to the crackling energy around Gwyn is a sign that she is a Lightsinger, but like... that's an indicator she has powers just like how Nesta in a later chapter felt Merrill's ornerry power. How is crackling energy means it's a Lightsinger when we never saw them? Powers recognize each other sometimes, just like how Feyre was surprised when Eris was able to detect a cold flame in the Dagger Nesta forged when it was given to him as a gift (like calls to like, Eris also has flame power).

In the bonus chapter, it's described at one point that the Shadows danced with Gwyn's breath as if it heard some Silent MUSIC (emphasis on music and not song). What was referred to as Music between Souls? The mating bond. Interestingly enough it was that same night when Nessian consummated their bond and they were connected by a music between their souls. So that could be a hint, and at the end of the scene Azriel hears a distant beautiful singing and the shadows sing back, hard to tell whether if it's Gwyn, who went back to trying to cut the ribbon, starts to sing or it's also another wording for a hint at the mating bond (also called the Song of the Soul).

I'm more keen to believe it's the mating bond because there are far more parallels and similar mate language to support it across all her three series and if someone is going to tell me "but Lorcan's chest glowed after he took the blood oath from Aelin—" my love context matters in this case and it doesn't invalidate the 10+ examples I can pull out of similar mate language like in the bonus chapter.

To ADD, for Azriel to be lured to the library at 7pm because of said Lightsinger singing, he has to be able to HEAR the singing for the power to influence him and Azriel didn't hear any singing, he was conscious and aware of his actions. It was mentioned Nesta sang with Gwyn at the services frequently and she didn't make any comments on a vision being triggered or her constantly seeking out Gwyn so there are holes in those kind of conclusions—again, because we never see Lightsingers on page.

"But when he arrives to the library it chimed 7pm!! That's when they sing for the dusk service" welp that's another hole in the theory, it depends on Azriel being drawn to the library because of Gwyn's singing but if he showed up at the library and they don't sing until 7pm then before the clock chimes at 7pm, they weren't singing so... not a convincing answer. Also, Clotho is usually seen during those services and Azriel still found her at her desk.

Early on when ACOSF came out, some readers made connections between Lightsingers and Shadowsingers and made the assumption that Lightsingers are the Shadowsingers' Light counterparts. That's why you had people musing about Azriel's mate being a Lightsinger, but canonically Lightsingers are evil once we go back to the text but we don't even see them to know for sure how they wield their powers or if they even sing because Shadowsinger Azriel doesn't need to sing when he uses his power.

In an Elain book (in this scenario it's her and Azriel), I don't see any purpose of Gwyn being revealed as a Lightsinger or anything about her powers because it'll be used as a plot device for an Elain/Azriel romance rather than contribute to Gwyn's own growth and that's why I don't like it. It will have implications on Nesta and the Valkyries dynamic too. If that's the case it will mean Gwyn will need more page time in an Elain and Azriel book to tackle something like that, especially if they're going to "help" her since that's the reasoning I see often—that she's not evil but she doesn't know it and if she did they will help her but like... why? To make her realize she has been keeping them apart or that she wanted a necklace she didn't even have any clue about.

Given Gwyn's history who even at the end of the book said despite training it didn't erase the fact that she let her sister die, she is still dealing with survivor's guilt, she still refuses to wear the priestesses stone, and also her desire to leave the library and see the world (which we didn't see yet). She has a lot of promise as a character than be a plot device for someone else's relationship.

The way I see it, Gwyn's theoretical powers is used to absolve Azriel of any accountability for his actions (ala Necklacegate) because it's not a good look on him, so it's better to pin it on someone else by saying he was lured against his will (since I often see that the reasoning behind her presence in the bonus chapter is to hint at her powers).

So if I have to read about Gwyn dealing with her powers whether they're good or bad, I'd rather see it from her point of view and for it to be beneficial for her own personal arc and healing journey. My problem isn't her having questionable powers (which I don't mind because many SJM characters had questionable powers but used it for good), I don't want it to be used as a plot device for another couple just to smear her as a character and clear the actions of the other male character so his "love interest" doesn't blame him for his actions.

Whew, this was long but I adore Gwyn and I am not a fan of the current version of the Lightsinger theory. I think even if SJM makes it happen, it would probably play out way differently than the fandom expects.

Also, it's not in SJM's style to use other woman drama in her romances. The other women are often 💀 or insignificant past lovers. I don't see her taking that route with Gwyn at all.

She could be half Asteri and I would still love her and be eager to explore her powers and story, I just don't like it being used to further another couple's conflict or whatever (they already have Rhys and Lucien).

And no, I hate the idea of Gwyn being controlled by either Koschei or Merrill because it takes away her agency and the suggestion here is about her doing things that harms others, how will that not have any implications on Nesta and Emerie and the trio's healing journey? Given her own tragic history and the fact that she was helpless and powerless to help her twin sister and she's still dealing with survivor's guilt over it all.

"Why did you sign up for this, then?" Nesta drank the glass Gwyn extended. "If you already have mind-calming exercises you're accustomed to?"

"Because I don't ever want to feel powerless again," Gwyn said softly, and all those easy smiles and bright laughs were gone. Only stark, pained honesty shone in her remarkable eyes.

Her being controlled is putting her in a powerless position again because she has no choice but to do Koschei or "evil" Merrill's bidding that could potentially harm Nesta and the others. I despite it.

And if I have to read about any comparisons between Gwyn and Ianthe as proof that priestesses can be evil, I'll go insane.

Also, if Gwyn's power can influence anyone through her singing, it would've influenced every single person in the services. It would have influenced other members of the IC. This particular theory is weak and depends one interpretation of the text that tries to present itself as evidence of an evil creature that never even shows up on page.

Gwyn wasn't added in the bonus chapter by coincidence. Sarah confirmed she left crumbs all over the book and specifically his bonus chapter, and what we speculate may or may not be confirmed in the next book so you can't dismiss the bonus by saying it has no relevance when the author said she left crumbs for readers to theorize about, which leads me to believe she wants us to come up with different theories until she publishes the next book where we'll know for sure if we nailed it or not.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara

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moiraimyths · 4 months

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I want to kidnap the cast, take them to the future human world, and force them to watch the Oppenheimer movie. Just to watch them struggle to understand everything. They don't even have access to 1800s human science/technology, so imagine 2023. Who would be most interested in the movie tho? Or most freaked out?

Live NDM dev reaction to this ask:

#ask #clotho answers #ndm #here they think iron is bad

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starsreminisce · 1 month

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One of these things is not like the other! One of these things is not the same! Can you guess which one it is?

Cassian on Nesta:

“Here I was,” Nesta said, a pillar of ice and steel beside the hearth, “thinking I heard you flapping around for ten minutes. It must have been a pigeon stuck in one of the chimneys.” Cassian just stared at her. She stared at him. His temper rose with dizzying speed at the words, the absurd perfection of her. A blade given form—that’s what she was. He smiled, slow and vicious, precisely in the way he’d learned made her see red. A smile that he knew instantly unsheathed those lovely claws of hers. “Hello, Nesta. Nice to see you.”

Rhys on Feyre:

His eyes danced with feline amusement. “Cruel, beautiful thing.” I snorted. The idea that he found me beautiful at all— “You are,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I thought that from the first moment I saw you on Calanmai.” And it was stupid, stupid for beauty to mean anything at all, but … My eyes burned. “Which is good,” he added, “because you thought I was the most beautiful male you’d ever seen. So it makes us even.”

Lucien on Elain:

But sunlight on gold caught his eye—and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window. He had not seen her entire face since that day in Hybern. Then, it had been drawn and terrified, then utterly blank and numb, her hair plastered to her head, her lips blue with cold and shock. Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Azriel on Gwyn:

He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... "Fine. Thank you." Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her. Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

Azriel on Elain:

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong -- it was so wrong. He didn't care. He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue -- Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Stumped? Need a hint? Fine, I'll give you the answer. The only time Azriel thought about how beautiful Elain was when he considered having sex with her. And the extremely thoughtful present he had for Elain? He could clearly envision how Gwyn's specific eye color would react when she received it.

It's a romantasy. The falling in love is the meat and potatoes of the plot.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #antie/riel #antielriel #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #feysand #nessian

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sunshinebingo · 1 month

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@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 6 - Mates

Synopsis: More than a year after what happened at Sangravah, Gwyn finally finds the courage to meet with her saviour and reveal a secret that she has been carrying with her.

Word Count: 1.7k

Read on Ao3

Gwyn stood before the wide-open window of a cosy sitting room in the House of Wind. The sky was more beautiful from this window than from the smaller one in her tiny room in the library several levels beneath. Even the grey clouds were a welcomed sight when one had spent more than a year being buried in a mountain with little to no contact with the outside world. For a moment, she forgot the nerves that had almost paralysed her earlier and had almost made her go back on her decision. But like the single ray of sunlight peaking through the heavy clouds, Gwyn’s resolve burned bright.

Just when she started thinking that she could use this time to rehearse the words she had so thoroughly practiced in front of her mirror, a knock sounded at the door, drawing a gasp out of her and pulling her eyes back inside. She suddenly regretted not taking Clotho on her offer of being present in the room with her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in as she remembered her own words to the High Priestess. “I can do this. I need to this. It has to be me,’’ she repeated to herself.

The person on the other side of the door knocked again. Gwyn fisted the fabric of her blue priestess robe in hopes that it would conceal the trembling of her hands. She cleared her throat and answered with a, ‘’Come in,’’ that she hoped was loud enough for the person to hear. It felt odd to give someone permission to enter a space that was not even her own. But when had she ever had a space of her own?

She heard the door opening with a slowness that did nothing to calm her. It only got worse when she turned around and beheld him. He was the same as he was when she first saw him all that time ago. It was the same face and the same wind-swept raven hair that often appeared in her dreams. She also recalled those lips that had mouthed a barely audible but still reassuring, “You’re safe”. Even his hazel eyes held the same tenderness that they had when he had wrapped his cloak around her then. She suspected that it was not the fact that she had a pretty good memory but something else that had made it impossible for her to forget a single inch of him. His glorious wings were tucked close to his body and his shadows seemed less frantic than she remembered them being that day. The dark wisps were lighter and remained closer to their master, though she swore that a few were trying to make their way to her. She was not scared of them. She felt like it was impossible for her to fear them and their master.

‘’Hello, Azriel.’’

He stood at the door, a hand still on the knob. If it wasn’t for the proximity between the window and the entrance, Gwyn probably wouldn’t have been able to feel his surprise at seeing her here. She did not know how much the High Lord had told his Spymaster about this meeting or if he had even warned him of who had wanted to speak with him.

‘’Hello, Gwyneth.’’

A shudder ran through her at the sound of her name coming out of his lips. He remembered her name. He remembered her. Gwyn stored that little information to the back of her mind, in the place where she kept everything she knew about him. Like she often did when the memories of that day plagued her, she held onto the sound of his deep, warm voice and let it anchor her.

‘’Rhys informed me that someone wanted to speak with me. I did not expect it to be you,’’ he said, running a hand through his messy hair. He looked as though he had just came back from flying. There was a hint of something in him – nervousness, shyness or cautiousness, she couldn’t tell for sure.

‘’Yes um… I…,’’ Gwyn rambled as she fidgeted with a button on her robe. Her eyes darted from the floor to anywhere else around the room. Azriel remained still with his hands at his side. ‘’I’m sure you must be busy and I’m sorry that I am taking your time but you see…’’

She took a deep a breath in and dared to look upon his face. ‘’Thank you.’’

Azriel’s eyebrows went up. His mouth opened to speak but Gwyn did not let him. Her first words were out and the others were right behind. She needed to talk now before the strong emotions building inside her froze her – before she acknowledged the others that were faintly thrumming inside her. She took a decisive step towards the Shadowsinger, her head held high despite her knees threatening to buckle and bring her down.

“I wanted to thank you. For saving me at Sangravah. I know you were just doing your job and that I was certainly just another victim to you –”

“Gwyneth,” he stopped her and took a hesitant step forward. “Please do not speak about yourself like that. You were very brave that day. Not everyone would have been able to do what you did. And you don’t have to thank me.”

It was the most that she had ever heard him speak. It sealed her belief that no other living being’s voice could seep so deep beneath her skin. That was another thing that she would torment herself with later. Thinking over what he just said, Gwyn decided that now was not the time to reveal how she truly felt about her supposed bravery and heroic deeds. Everything she did was out of fear and with the hope of keeping the others alive. None of those had been enough to protect her sister. And now was not the time to talk about her biggest failure.

“I do,” she insisted. “And I also have to apologise.”

His surprise was very visible on his face this time. She did not give him time to cut her off again. Gwyn held on to the fickle hope that he would understand. She took another step towards him. Because she was not afraid of him. And because she owed him the truth.

“Before you came that day, I was certain that I was about to die. I was already dead in my mind. When the room darkened,” she explained, looking up at the shadows and recalling the fog they had created around her, “I was convinced that it was death coming to claim me. Then I heard a hum echoing in the dark. For a moment, it blocked out the sound of the screaming around.”

Gwyn swore that she was hearing that hum again but wasn’t sure if it was from recalling it or if it was actually happening now. She noticed that Azriel was watching her with curious eyes. She ignored the faint music and focused on what she needed to say.

“That humming, that voice, it grew louder and louder in my head. And when I saw you...”

She took another step forward. “When I looked into your eyes, I felt something...snap.”

Gwyn felt her heart stop. But being only a few steps away from him, she was convinced that it wasn’t her heartbeat that had faltered. She looked into his eyes as he stared at her in shock. The shadows around him had gone still with a few still trying to approach her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Gwyn felt a burning in her eyes as tears started to pool there. She gathered all the courage she had left and moved even closer to him. Slowly, so slowly so as to give him time to pull away, she dared to take one of his hands in hers. He flinched at the first contact but remained where he stood. Gwyn ran her fingers on the hand that she remembered by heart and traced the scars there like she already knew their exact pattern. Azriel looked down at their joined hands, his body stiff.

“I hope that one day you can forgive me for not telling you sooner. I was so scared,” she continued, her voice on the verge of breaking. “I know all the rumours about you and the infamous reputation that you have.”

She didn’t know that it was possible for him to go even more still. Gwyn feared that he might faint or just fall and shatter like glass. The feeble thread inside her thrummed faster.

“But I also know that you are so much more than that. I have seen it when you saved me. And I can feel it,” she added with a hand placed on her heart.

Azriel’s eyes raised to look into hers. He remained silent. But Gwyn felt the way he gently squeezed her hand. A tear rolled down her cheek. Gwyn let it. She took another deep breath, determined to tell him everything she had to before she lost her ability to speak. She only had to wait a few moments more before she could lock herself in her bedroom and cry herself to sleep like she so often did.

“I wish for you to find someone who is truly deserving of you. Someone who is not broken like me. Someone who can match your beauty and strength and your courage. Someone who will see all of you.”

She let go of his hand and placed hers on his chest. This would probably be the last opportunity that she would have to be this close to him. With that in mind, Gwyn raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“You deserve so much more than me. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t give herself time to examine what the look on his face meant. She didn’t even stay to hear what he had to say. With tears running down her face, Gwyn walked past him and left the room. If she had stayed a second longer, she would have been there when Azriel fell to his knees. She would have seen him place the hand she had held in hers on his chest, precisely where her own had been, and right where he felt something started thrumming in his heart.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #gwynriel weeks 2024 #Gwynrielweeks2024 #gwynriel fic #pro gwynriel

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