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irismoonrise · 2 years

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It’s About Time

Summary: Azriel returns from a spying mission badly injured, scaring Gwyn. As she cares for him, a panicked Elain rushes in seeking to do the same. Some drama unfolds as the two fight over being there for Azriel. (Gwynriel One Shot)

Read on AO3

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Gwyneth Berdara x Azriel

A/N: I've had this saved in my drafts for a while due to me being hesitant of all the Elriel and Gwynriel ship drama. But today i finally got the writing somewhere i liked it and felt good enough to post it. This was inspired by a scene from Harry Potter, you’ll know if you know lol. Anyways, Enjoy.

Gwyn focused on the swift movements of her sword as she landed calculated hits on the practice dummy. Her braided hair seemed to glow like fire as she moved with ease in the early morning sun.

This side of the training ring was fairly empty when she emerged from the library, but now there were small groups of other priestesses warming up. Cassian had been called to the river house a few moments ago and Nesta had followed. Emerie was also missing today as she was handling some things at her store.

Gwyn would usually use this time to practice movements and techniques with various short blades or daggers. Azriel was always there, adamant about instructing her properly but today he was missing too. It wasn’t unusual for the shadowsinger to miss a few lessons, but something about this time had Gwyn on edge. She couldn’t get rid of that feeling in her stomach, that something wasn’t right.

She focused again on her sword, swiping the dummy so hard that hay spewed out of its ripped side. Panting, she moved to set the weapon against the rack and head to the water station. The other priestesses smiled at her as she walked by. Once she reached the water station and began to fill her glass, a shadow flew overhead, distracting her and making her look up.

She gasped as she took in Azriel’s form, bobbing and swerving in an attempt to land properly. His hand was pressed hard against his left side that appeared to be bleeding profusely.

Gywn quickly set down her glass and made to run back out into the ring. She didn’t know what she could do, didn’t know where he would land. The other priestesses moved quickly, no doubt seeing and thinking the same.

While she panicked, Azriel landed with a loud thud that sent him rolling towards a corner of the ring. Gwyn took off running for him, nausea filling her gut. Dropping to her knees next to his limp and crumpled form, she took in his shadows swarming him. She reached through them and around his wings for his shoulder, flipping him over.

She and several of the priestesses who had gathered around gasped at the blood drenching his leathers. Gwyn situated his head on her lap, his shadows were cold as they swarmed her arms. He must have passed out as he landed. The nausea in her gut turned to horror and alarm at seeing him like this.

Gwyn knew he needed help and fast. Looking up at the other priestesses, she yelled, “Someone go alert Rhysand and get a healer! Now!”

They just stared at her for a moment before bursting into movement. Deirdre appeared with a cloth, kneeling on the other side of Azriel. As she laid it over his wound and gradually applied pressure, he jerked awake, eyes wide.

Gwyn grabbed the side of his face, forcing him to look at her. She said gently, “Shh, it’s okay, Az. Look at me, we're getting you help.”

The alarm in his eyes settled and his body relaxed as he took in her face. His eyes softened before drifting closed. Gwyn felt another pulse of panic at him going unconscious again. From the way his skin paled and his shadows deepened, he was worse than she thought.

She said a silent prayer to the Mother before her thoughts could descend to the worst.

—

Everyone stood gathered around Azriel who lay unconscious in his bed at the House of Wind. Gwyn sat on a small chair next to him, her folded arms a breath away from Azriel’s hand. She stared at his face as Rhys and Feyre spoke, their faces grim.

“They must have sensed him somehow. Maybe they set a new type of ward,” Rhys said.

“They probably took extra precautions knowing we would send him at some point,” Feyre replied.

Cassian said tightly, “I knew you shouldn’t have sent him to that fortress. Damn getting information if it results in things like this.”

From the tightness on Nesta’s face, Gwyn knew she agreed. She had no idea where they’d sent him but it must have been a difficult place for him to end up like this. Anger twisted in her gut at the situation they put him in.

Noting their expressions, Feyre said, “We’d hoped to get the information before they caught on. We were confident that Azriel could get in and out with no problems.”

Gwyn was reminded of the frantic moments between him landing in the training ring to Rhys and Cassian hauling him inside for Madja to look at. She had taken one look at him and exclaimed that someone had practically gutted him. Gwyn cringed at the thought, her stomach bottoming out once again.

As the others prepared to bicker, she looked at Azriel’s face. She had never seen him so peaceful and relaxed. His shadows had calmed once he was healed and now they moved lazily around his shoulders.

Before she could reach for his hand, loud and quickly moving footsteps sounded from the hall. She looked up in time to see Elain pushing past Feyre into the room.

“Where is- Gods, is he alright?” She asked, her face pinched with concern.

Gwyn felt something spark in her chest at Elain’s face. It irritated her for some reason.

Rhys opened his mouth to reply but Gwyn beat him to it. “Madja said he’ll be fine with some rest and proper tending to.”

“Oh…that’s good,” Elain replied hesitantly as she sized up Gwyn and how close she sat next to Azriel. She looked over at Nesta and whispered to her, “What’s she doing here?”

Gwyn didn’t know if she actually thought she was being quiet in asking her question or asking it loud enough to start something. She answered anyway, “I’m here because he practically fell out of the sky during training. I just happened to be the one to get him help.”

Elain didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, well thank you so much for being there. I can see he’s better now so you can go finish your training.”

Gywn almost gaped in shock. She couldn’t believe Elain’s attempt at dismissing her like some nursemaid. She replied, “I was actually finishing up some when it happened so I think I’ll sit here for a little while and see if he needs anything when he wakes up.”

Gwyn could see the anger that flickered in Elain’s eyes at her response, she reveled in it for a moment. As they stared at each other, the others in the room shifted to the background as their conversation took centerfold. She could feel all their eyes on them, warily watching them.

Elain broke eye contact first, smiling as she said, “You should go and take a moment to clean yourself up, I don’t think him waking up to you covered in his blood will do much good.”

Gwyn was in fact still covered in his blood. She had washed her hands but most of it still soaked her leathers. The fact that Elain was trying to get rid of her so badly had Gwyn burning with anger. If she thought she would leave Azriel after what she’d seen today, she was sadly mistaken.

Before Gwyn could snap back with her response, Azriel stirred and groaned. She grabbed his hand and moved closer as he slightly opened his eyes. Gwyn noted Elain’s presence on the other side of the bed, she too had rushed over as he stirred.

“Gw…Gwyn,” He rasped.

She moved even closer, lifting his hand and placing it against her cheek. “I'm here. I'm here, Az.”

“Gwyn…” He said again as his head moved in her direction.

She glanced over to Elain—and from the deep frown on her face this is not what she was expecting. She slowly backed away from the bed and swiftly retreated from the room, avoiding everyone's glances.

Gwyn focused again on Azriel, comforting him. She sat on the bed, careful of his abdomen, and moved his hand in hers across her cheek. The presence of everyone else in the room seemed to disappear for a moment. She could slightly make out Nesta attempting to usher them from the room.

Just as Cassian reached the door, he looked back at Gwyn and Azriel with a grin and whispered, “It’s about time.”

Gwyn tried and failed to hide her smile at his comment. Nesta quickly appeared, yanking him into the hallway and closing the door behind them.

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #gwyn acosf #gwyneth x azriel #gwyn acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #gywn berdara #elain archeron #acosf #sarah j maas #gwyneth berdara

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ladybookstan · 2 years

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Gwyneth Berdara

Art by @gabsgabxx @gabsgabx on Instagram

I love this art, totally everything!!! ❤️

#gwyneth berdara #gwyn acotar #gwyn berdara #gwyn acosf #gwyn supremacy #gywn berdara #valkyrie #acosf #acotar #gwynriel #a court of silver flames #pro gwynriel #acotar fanart #acotar fandom

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ladydeath-22 · 2 years

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Why do people find it so hard to believe the Valkyries can pass and win the blood rite with few months training.

Like Feyre killed the wrym malnourished and she was a human. She also mastered her powers of all 7 high lords with few months training.

It’s called fantasy for a reason people. Things are not real. Fae and magic aren’t real so please don’t say it’s unbelievable that the Valkyries can pass the blood rite.

#nesta #nesta archeron #pro nesta #acosf #nesta acosf #nesta archeron supremacy #nesta supremacy #pro gwyn #pro gwyneth #gywn berdara #emerie #valkyrie #valkyrie supremacy #queen nesta #pro emerie

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stormborngod · 2 years

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What the Acotar women would call you as a nickname

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Feyre: darling, 100%, it’s the perfect mix of loving and teasing that she loves

Nesta: I’m going to be honest she probably just calls you by your name, not because she doesn’t care as much as others, but mostly just because she feels your name is enough for her,

Elain: all the flower nicknames I’m not even joking, she probably knows flower language so the nicknames switch between each flower

Mor: another darling but she probably would also use love or sweetheart when she’s feeling a bit more soft

Amren: little mouse because she’s mean to you, you taller than her but she constantly calls you mouse,little one, and other short nicknames. Don’t call her any of those tho she’ll get pissy

Gwyn: my love, petal, and lovely all the sweetest nicknames because she thinks your so sweet

Emerie: listen I feel in my soul that she would call you hon or honey, very sweet with you

#feyre archeron #Feyre x reader #nesta x reader #nesta archeron #elain archeron #elain x reader #morrigan #mor x reader #amren #amren x reader #gywn berdara #gywn x reader #emerie #Emerie x reader

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athena-85 · 2 years

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Imagine being the author of a series about woman’s empowerment and seeing people who claim to be fans of the series and seeing this disgusting B.S. from them

I feel like she is going to make an example of you.

🤢shame on you!

#azriel shadowsinger #anti gwynriel #gywn berdara #elriel #elain archeron #acotar #sjmass #sjmaas #acotar theory

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kiwi-muses · 2 years

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teach me how to fight, i’ll show you how to win

I built this Gwyn experience based on my own experiences. People respond to this type of trauma in different ways and I found a lot of myself in Gwyn, so I gave her a piece of me in this. I was exceedingly tempted to write a part in Azriel’s POV also... I still might just for fun.

Gwyn closed the book she was reading hard, blowing out a sign of frustration. The information she was searching for wasn’t easy to find. In truth, she hadn’t suspected it to just be laying around, but she would have thought in such a vast library, she would eventually find what she needed. But it had been weeks and she was still no closer to the information she needed. She rose and shelved the book she had been searching through. With such little luck, she was going to have to finally cave and ask someone… but there were only three people she knew that would have the answers she needed. Cassian, Azriel, and the High Lord himself. And of those three, Azriel was likely the best source of this particular information. She began to make her way to her room, intending to change from her robes to her leathers. It was late, but her mind was still restless. The list of mistakes Cassian and Azriel had developed after the Blood Rite had given the Valkyries much to work on, and working through some of the exercises at night helped to tire Gwyn and quiet her mind.

Making her way up the stairs to the training ring, she considered the best way to go about acquiring the information. There wasn’t really a subtle way of asking for what she needed. It would likely be best to be outright and hope for as little judgment as possible.

The training ring was empty, and the air was biting. Gwyn began her stretches. Dagger work had been her focus lately. She won the Blood Rite using her cunning, but she wanted to be able to defend herself in close quarters should the need arise. The Blood Rite, and the circumstances surrounding her having entered it, had been in the forefront of her mind since it had happened. In some ways, Gwyn was powerful. She was strong and she was cunning. But in other ways, the Blood Rite had proven to her that she was still weak despite her vow to never be so again.

She stood and grabbed a practice dagger from the weapons cache, beginning to work through the steady movements they were learning in training. About halfway through her first set, that prickle of awareness tickled her. She turned around and saw someone flying into the House - based on the wingspan, she was guessing Azriel. As the figured neared, she learned she was right. He landed on the balcony lightly, his shadows dancing around his shoulders. He looked tired, worn. Gwyn gave him a small smile. “Hello, shadowsinger.” He strode in her direction.

“Hello, priestess,” he replied. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not quite. Too many thoughts are running through my head,” Gwyn said. Azriel came to a stop a few steps in front of her. A shadow darted out and cycloned around her. She laughed lightly. “Hello, little shadow.” Azriel’s face hardened.

“Leave her be,” he commanded. Gwyn quirked her eyebrow at him.

“I don’t mind,” she said, “truly. They’re delightful.” Azriel couldn’t hide the flitter of surprise that ran across his face.

“My shadows have been called many things. Delightful, however, is a first.” His shadow returned to his side. He jerked his head at her dagger. “What are you working on?”

“Just the basic exercises for now,” Gwyn replied. She chewed her lip, considering if she wanted to ask Azriel for that information now, or wait.

“Out with it, Berdara,” he said. She looked at him, and he quirked his lips in a half smile. “You wear your thoughts on your face. What are you mulling over?”

Gwyn eyed him for a moment, debating with herself. After a moment, she came to a decision. “I have a question,” she started, “about the use of a dagger for a particular task. I tried to find the answer in the library, but had no luck. And the only people I think would know are you, Cassian, or the High Lord.”

Azriel crossed his arms. “This is interesting already, Berdara. So am I the lucky winner?” She looked at him, quirking her head.

“I think you would be the best to ask, yes. It’s no secret, even in the library, what you do for this court… what your job is.” Azriel’s eyes hardened. Gwyn took a step towards him. “You work in spywork, that much is true, but that’s not why you’re the most feared male in Prythian. It’s said you also do what needs to be to… obtain answers from people.” Azriel uncrossed his arms.

“Gwyn…” he started. She held her hand up for silence.

“I do not judge you for what you do. We are all the sum of our parts, not defined by individual actions but rather by the whole of our being. But… to accomplish your work, you’d have to have an intimate knowledge of the body. Where to apply pressure. What areas are more sensitive than others.”

Azriel had a wary look on his face. “Yes, that’s true,” he said. “But I can’t fathom why you’ve brought this up.” Gwyn gave him a small smile.

“At Sangravah…” Gwyn’s throat tightened. She cleared her throat to continue. “At Sangravah, I was violated. My choice was taken from me. I would do it again to save those children. But… when we were taken in the Blood Rite and I woke up surrounded by strange males, all I could think was that I would not have my choices taken from me again.” She looked into Azriel’s eyes. “I want you to teach me how to use a dagger on myself, efficiently.” Azriel sharply inhaled. “I will die before I allow another male to take me against my will again.”

Azriel ran his hands through his hair, and down his face. She had surprised him, she figured. “You won’t have to worry about that. We can protect you, make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Gwyn felt a spike of anger.

“I will not be coddled, Azriel.” He straightened, hearing his given name from her. “I make my own choices, decide my own future. And I decide this for myself.” She stepped closer to him. “I remember every moment at Sangravah. I remember his hands on me. I remember his breath across my face. I remember him using me. And I will be damned if I let it happen again.” He looked into her eyes, studying her, as she did the same to him. She could see the war behind his eyes. “Either you teach me, or I will ask Cassian or the High Lord.”

The seconds passed by slowly, turning one minute into two, into three. “Fine,” he said. She let out a breath of relief, not realizing how tense she was.

“Good,” she replied breathlessly. She turned to return to the middle of the ring.

“I will teach you on one condition.” She stopped in her tracks. This was not supposed to be conditional. She turned her head towards him to find him stalking towards her, and she turned to face him. He stopped toe to toe with her. “You give me a chance.” She crinkled her eyebrows, puzzled. “You give me a chance to find you, and to save you.”

Gwyn’s heart skipped a beat, and she softened. “Azriel, you saved me once. Once can be enough.”

“No,” he spat vehemently. “I will always find you. You grant me that… grant me the time to find you, and I will teach you.” Gwyn considered his words, her heart tumbling. She wasn’t expecting this reaction from him - disbelief maybe, but not this... this protectiveness.

“Alright, shadowsinger. I will give you time. But in the event that enough time passes, I retain the right to make a choice as I see fit.” He nodded, and she held out her hand for him to take. As he did, she said, “It’s a bargain.” She felt the tattoo ink itself on her palm, an eye in shape. She would learn in the future the gravity of the bargain she had struck - that it had built a bridge between her and Azriel wherein he could feel her, could read her emotions and communicate with her. But for now, a piece of her settled at the knowledge that, whether it be by her own hand or his, she would never yield again.

#gwyneth berdara #gywnriel #gywn berdara #azriel x gwyn #Azriel #gywnriel fic #Gwynriel fanfiction #gwyn acotar

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arinbelle · 2 years

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A thing of secret, lovely beauty

Note: It’s giving You Belong With Me. But also on a more serious note, I’m not tagging this by couples/ships, just the characters, because the intention of this is not to ship any one pairing. I’m genuinely just loving the drama, tension and angst of the setup SJM left us with with that bonus scene and I wanted to expand on it. That’s all. If you drag me into your ship wars, I’m blocking you *kisses*

~*~

Elain doesn’t know why she does it. If perhaps it is her own lack of common sense or just an affliction from staying out in the sun too long. Or perhaps she’s a conniving schemer deep down and can’t stand the fact that she’s lost yet again in another aspect of her life that she has no control over.

Of course, she had never planned to extend the offer.

No, Elain was fine with backing out of the House of Wind after hearing the sounds echoing through the halls, reverberating through the walls, and scarring her for all her life. It wasn’t that she had anything against her sister and her mate, nor their…fervent joinings. But Elain had no interest in ever bearing witness to them, inadvertent sounds or not. So she’d left the freshly baked muffins on the table in the dining room and hurried out of there with as much grace as she could muster, barely seeing the girl in the training square before they were colliding.

The girl, whoever she was, had caught Elain before they could both tumble down from the force of the hit. Sleek, toned arms had wound their way around her own, steadying her, and Elain had been breathless as she’d looked up into the face of a beautiful Fae female.

She couldn’t have been much older than herself, but then again, the Fae were always younger or older than they looked, somehow managing to look both too wise and too new for this world simultaneously.

“Are you alright?,” she’d asked Elain, and Elain had nodded mutely, focusing in on the blazing copper hair that shone like a fire against the midday sun.

Teal eyes had watched her worriedly but the female had let her go, observing her with a more pointed gaze.

Beautiful. It had been the first word to come to her mind when appraising her.

“You’re Nesta’s sister.”

Yes. Always that. Or Feyre’s. Elain wondered if perhaps one day she’d be known as something other than that. Other than the shy, quiet one that Feyre’s family gave a wide but respectful berth to. Or the ones the market murmured over, the one they didn’t know but seemed worlds kinder than the viper they thought her older sister to be.

Elain had kept the answers short and sweet after putting the pieces together- that the female before her had been the priestess Nesta now considered a good friend. A sister actually from what she’d overheard Feyre and Rhysand speaking of once. And wasn’t it sweet, she’d thought to herself. Elain had disappeared for what an immortal would consider a blink of an eye, and Nesta had already made space in her once cold and cruel heart for not one, but two females.

She had looked at the smattering of freckles during that first meeting- the shrewd gaze and the stunning beauty, and had wondered if Nesta had replaced her in for Feyre or Elain.

It hadn’t taken long to figure out that the both of them had been looking for Nesta and had hurriedly realized that she was otherwise indisposed. They’d shared a nervous, awkward laugh at what they’d both almost interrupted between Cassian and their supposed shared sister.

Elain had been about to leave, ready to conjure up her smile and slowly bow her head in greeting and also in goodbye. But then her attention had snagged on the lovely glint of metal atop the priestess’ cream colored skin, almost glowing and most definitely mocking her.

And it had been stupid, stupid, stupid to ask, but she’d done it anways.

“I love your necklace. Where is it from?”

The female had smiled brightly at her, honest in her reaction, basking in Elain’s jealousy-addled compliment. And the answer had been just as disappointing. Because apparently she didn’t know. Apparently it had been an anonymous gift from someone on Solstice night. Apparently, one of the priestesses had seen a winged male walking away after dropping it off with Clotho, whoever that was. And apparently, the stupid girl was convinced it was Rhys.

“He’s been so kind. I don’t know why he would give it to me, I’m not really anybody he knows, but he’s kind like that I suppose. Him and his family. Maybe it’s because of Nesta, but I don’t know. I do love it though.” And then she’d traced a pretty, slim finger against the rose, and Elain had nearly screamed out loud. Had almost reached between the two feet of distance between them and snapped the pretty finger in half.

Not that she would have been able to do it of course, wretched warrior training and all, because of course, she couldn’t just be Nesta’s new sister and Azriel’s new love, she had to be a trained fighter on top of being beautiful.

So Elain had done the only thing she could think to do. She’d invited the female, Gwyneth she’d learned the name was, to her house.

For tea of course.

Because Elain must have some perverse wish to punish herself and learn more about the new female that Azriel now had eyes on. She wasn’t a monster though. She’d noted the way the female’s eyes had darkened at the offer and how she’d looked away, murmuring about how she didn’t like to travel down and out of the library much except for training or in the House of Wind with Nesta.

Elain knew of the females who lived under the library and why they were there. She wasn’t callous enough to forget that or forego any sympathy at all.

“I can have Feyre winnow us directly there. We wouldn’t need to go anywhere in between at all.”

She had hoped Cassian would have flown her back after Rhys had quickly winnowed her over, muttering about some meeting he was late for, and the wind of his flapping wings had nearly tumbled her and the muffin basket over. Cassian and Nesta had ended up too busy with each other and Elain had had enough good sense to not interrupt them. Mor had always told her she could count on her to winnow her back and forth from the houses if Feyre or Rhys weren’t available. But she had no way to contact Mor directly as neither of them were Daemati.

And she’d be damned if she asked for Azriel.

Gwyneth had thought it over for a few moments, but ultimately, she’d accepted. So Elain had cast her mind out as wide as she could, calling out for Feyre in her head. It was a strange thing to do, even with the feeling of familiarity when a night-kissed presence entered her mind.

Feyre had promptly shown up, barely even said hello to the pair, before whisking Elain and Gwyn away to her cottage, and then leaving in the same flurry as her mate, explaining that leaving Nyx alone for too long wasn’t safe.

That first day had been strange. Gwyn had sat in her garden while she’d prepared the tea, and they’d drank in silence that wasn’t altogether awkward, but also not normal. She probably deserved it for taking a female away from the comfort of her safe space just to finagle any detail about Azriel away from Gwyn.

But Elain hadn’t been able to do it in the end. More so because it felt strange and they were virtually strangers, so Elain had given her some cake she’d baked the day before and after an hour, they’d parted ways. She’d called out to Feyre but Rhys had shown up instead, done with his meetings, and looking like a load had been taken off. He’d even offered a tight smile to Elain which was rare since he often avoided her ever since last year’s Solstice.

She knew why. She just didn’t have the guts to call it out.

And she knew it was wrong, but the next time that she left Nesta’s home, this time actually seeing her sister since her mate was away, she’d inquired about Gwyneth again. Nesta had seemed surprised by the interest, but strangely, not jealous. Not like Elain.

The three of them had sat together in Nesta’s home as Elain baked a chocolate cake and the two females, Valkyries, watched her and filled her in on the latest books they’d read. An hour later, Cassian had returned with Emerie and they’d eaten dinner together. Elain found Emerie to be most like her sister and perhaps that was what unnerved her more. It also made her cling closer to Gwyneth’s company through the rest of the night, strangely enough.

After that, Elain lost track of how many times she invited Gwyn back to her home. If she ever saw Rhysand or Cassian nearby, she could ask for them to fly or winnow them back. Sometimes, she forgot why she’d started this horrible reconnaissance mission in the first place. Because Gwyneth was…fun. Kind even. And funny in a way that didn’t make Elain blush or upset.

In the beginning, Elain wondered what it was. Why her?

And why not me?

But sometimes, when Gwyn would help Elain tend to her garden or pass her the ingredients as she stirred them into her pot, Elain would see it.

When her long, coppery hair fell past her shoulders, or her nose scrunched in irritation at the smallest things, or she laughed and the room seemed to light up, or how she comforted her with her whole heart on the days that Elain wasn’t her best self…Elain saw it.

She saw what Nesta had seen. What she had preferred over Elain. She saw what Azriel was attracted to. What had drawn him towards her instead.

And while it hurt so much she sometimes wanted to tear her heart out and stomp on it for caring so much about an inconsequential matter, she found it was easier to accept it rather than fight against it and let resentment take root. Because she liked Gwyn, even if that hadn’t been the original aim. She enjoyed the sliver of connection it gave her to her oldest sister and even the tidbits of information she could gain about the Shadowsinger, who Gwyn insisted was just a friendly acquaintance.

When they’d first begun spending time together, Elain would have doubted Gwyn’s insistence on that matter, and would have assumed she was lying. But after some time, weeks later actually, Elain had realized that maybe it was only Azriel’s interest, and it was only one-sided, as Gwyn had no idea or any interest in him outside of training. But while the knowledge should have sparked some joy, it had only humiliated her further. The lengths she’d gone at conning a sweet female, an unassuming friend now, just to get the upper hand over a male.

Gwyneth had no idea of course, and Elain decided that she never would.

But Gwyneth didn’t miss the sharp longing that Elain’s face took on when she mentioned the Shadowsinger. Nor the brief glint of irritation that shadowed. And Gwyn would remember all those looks very well months later when she would overhear the argument between Elain and the Shadowsinger over the necklace she’d innocently worn every day, unaware of who its first intended wearer had been.

The consternation that she’d never seen from Elain before as she all but shouted at Azriel in the hidden alcove behind where the party was taking place. A party Gwyn hadn’t wanted to come to, a party that was one of many the Night Court enjoyed throwing, and a party she’d been dragged to by Nesta nonetheless.

It was only then, hidden behind the wall, barely breathing out so as to not be discovered snooping on a clearly private matter, that Gwyneth found out the truth about the necklace. And how shameful it felt for her, how downright horrid, when it had all come rushing out between the quarreling lovers and the breath had whooshed from her own lungs.

She’d only recently learned it had been from Azriel, constantly operating under the assumption that it had been some pity gift left for her by the High Lord after the Solstice festivities had passed. Gwyn had been twirling the necklace in her hand as she stacked books in the upper shelves, some kind of a habit she’d fallen into for comfort. Deirdre had walked by and asked if Gwyn had needed any help. Of course Gwyn was fine, but one thing had led to another and soon they’d been talking about their day in the frigid stacks for a good half hour. In all that time, Gwyn hadn’t realized she’d been twirling the necklace over and over in her hand, but Deirdre had.

And she’d asked if Gwyn had given Azriel a Solstice gift as well.

The shock must have been too much for even Gwyn to conceal, because Deirdre seemed to have realized her mistake and muttered about errands for another priestess as she walked away.

Later learning that the necklace had been Elain’s originally was even more dizzying knowledge and Gwyn had quickly left the party soon after overhearing it. She’d locked herself up in her room for a good two days while everyone else in the Night Court rested and slept off the partying and alcohol induced tiredness.

No one came to ask after her, except for Nesta, who she had sent away under the guise of feigned sickness. Because Gwyn was a coward who had lied to herself more times than she could count, and she had no intention of facing the truth anytime soon. And even if Nesta wouldn’t figure out the specifics just by looking at her, her friend had always been too sharp to miss what Gwyn was obviously trying to hide.

Because the truth was, Gwyn hadn’t been as unaffected as she liked to be perceived. Sure it had been innocent enough at first. The lingering stares at Azriel’s back when he worked through a motion before handing her the dagger and having her copy it. The way she’d let her eyes roam and trace the whirling patterns at the nape of his neck.

It was the only skin visible besides his arms that had her wanting for more. And Gods above did she want. The feeling was confusing and tumultuous and while it made Gwyn ache with something she later realized was desire, it also terrified her and left her feeling cold.

Because no matter how the sun had glinted against his bare skin the one day he’d taken his shirt off in the summer heat, glowing from the exertion he’d had to do in a spar against Cassian that had gone on for hours, it didn’t change the truth.

Couldn’t.

No matter how much Gwyn wanted to feel that skin against her own, or revel in the muscles that would shift under her hand, or learn the taste of his mouth against hers- an unbidden thought that had horrified her- Gwyn knew the reality and knew it was impossible.

She could barely leave the library, save to train, and only in the company of two males she knew. Even then, sometimes the male scent of the redheaded Emissary offhandedly visiting, terrified her. Sent her thoughts reeling back to the attack on Sangravah and the fear she’d felt in the Blood Rite. Gwyn knew that nothing good could come from lusting over Azriel. One, because now she knew that he was spoken for, by a friend of sorts for that matter. Two, because he would always be a male, and she could never guarantee to herself or him that she’d be completely free of that fear.

So it had mostly pained her, and slightly embarrassed her, but she’d made the trek up the library levels, and entered the training ring at the unholy hour at which she knew Azriel liked to practice with his dagger. Sure enough, as she’d rounded the corner, she heard the telltale thud of his dagger hitting the target, and the soft, almost mute hiss of his shadows nearby. Those shadows seemed to have sensed her too because Azriel had straightened up before she’d stepped into the ring and she’d been taken aback by the broad, fanned out wings half hiding away the gleaming, bronze skin attached.

Gwyn averted her eyes and tried her best to focus on the back of his head only. Even when he turned around to face her, eyes wide with surprise, she kept her gaze respectfully on his face. Even if a small part of her wanted to stray down and trace the muscles that sinfully led down to-

“Gwyn?”

Gwyn bowed her head stiffly in greeting and then approached. Her hands had turned clammy and she knew that her heartbeat must be deafening to his ears. That alone added to her embarrassment but it was now or never.

He seemed to be on the verge of saying something more, but Gwyn didn’t want to be here for any of it. So she shoved her hand out between them and as soon as Azriel’s was placed a few touches below hers, she dropped the delicate chain into his outstretched palm.

He seemed to be frozen in shock at what lay in his hand, unable to move let alone speak, and Gwyn thought it a good time as any to leave before she had to face further humiliation.

But before she could, having only whirled on her heel halfway to make her grand escape, Azriel’s arm shot forward and stopped her quickly.

Like a predator ensnaring his victim.

A welcome distraction perhaps on any other day, in any other situation, but she wanted no part in his games now.

Something on her face must have betrayed her uneasiness, because Azriel looked almost ashamed at where their skin touched, and he let her go promptly.

“Sorry.” It was gruff and gravelly and possibly forced, but Gwyn nodded all the same.

“Wait,” he called out, just as she took another step.

Stay or go. Listen or ignore. The options made her dizzy and for a split second, she wanted to do neither. She wanted to turn back time to when it had been easier and normal between all of them. When Azriel was just another trainer in the ring for the priestesses. Just like Cassian, a brother of sorts, and never at the risk of being mistaken for something more by either of them.

But Gwyn had never been as strong as she thought herself to be, or would have liked herself to be.

“I’m listening,” she muttered, facing him with a scowl because she didn’t know if she’d easily crumple to his charm if she allowed herself any other emotion.

Azriel ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, and Gwyn tried and failed to not notice the way the tendons in his arms strained in the movement. How the Illyrian markings seemed to slither across his brown skin.

Perhaps those were his shadows though and the confusion of the night was playing tricks on her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated and Gwyn could only tighten the arms already crossed across her chest in defense.

“What for?,” her voice was sharp even to her own ears. “For breaking Elain’s heart or gifting me something meant for her?”

Azriel’s face tightened. “Elain isn’t the problem.”

Gwyn scoffed. “She is not a problem, she’s a person. A good one too. And she’s my friend.” Sort of. “And you were unfair.”

“You don’t know the whole story. I don’t even know how you know- nevermind. The necklace is yours Gwyn.” He held it back out to her but Gwyn took a step back.

“No, I want no part in your disagreement with each other.” Azriel didn’t budge. Gwyn shook her head again and took another step back for good measure.

“She has a mate,” he expelled in a whisper. The anger simmered on his face, but the grief overshadowed it in his eyes.

“But she wants you,” Gwyn offered. It was true. How Gwyn hadn’t seen it earlier was beyond her. “I don’t know much about mating bonds but I do believe they only work if both sides want them.” When Azriel responded with a scoff she took a shaky step closer.

“I see the way she looks at you,” she added. “When you aren’t looking or when I tell her about you during training. It’s not how one thinks of someone who is anything less than lovers.”

And what a shame indeed Gwyn thought to herself, after she’d left Azriel speechless and clutching the necklace haphazardly, that Gwyn recognized the look on Azriel’s face. The longing, the devastation, as he faced the fact that Elain, while perhaps desirous and reciprocating now, would always have a mate and someone to look towards. That he was running after someone who was spoken for, and would perhaps never be truly his. What a shame that Gwyn knew that look on his face so well, because she was sure she had the exact same one every time she looked at him.

Taglist: genuinely I don’t remember if this is the right taglist or the general taglist or just a taglist for a specific fic...but it’s all I have saved so here ya go....

@endlessdaydream @sleeping-and-books @purpleglitterypinecone @sv0430 @gwynberdara @karmasworlds @bookstantrash @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray @perseusannabeth @vasudharaghavan @sayosdreams @arielle-reads @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @nahthanks @oversizedbats @swankii-art-teacher @inardour @rowaelinismyotp @starryblueskies7 @vidalinav @nessiantrashh @imagine-me @iwastoowildinthe70s @lady-winter-sunrise @vanzetanze @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore @simpingfornestaarcheron @generalnesta @mis-lil-red @nestaisgod @booksstorm @loosingdreams @champanheandluxxury @18moneytoad @starksravings @tinasbookishlife @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @nesquik-arccheron @readingwitches @that-golden-lyre

#acosf #acotar #elain archeron #gwyneth berdara #azriel #elain #gwyn #gywn berdara

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strangecreationchaos · 2 years

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well i combined all the gwyn and azriel interaction and their name mentions .. lets find out what they are truly..

the first point..their first meeting ...so from cassian's point of view gwyn was distracted..and that cassian notice as discomfort!

next. azriel's reaction to gwyn's excitement...

then when gwyn read the valkarie stuff and started with ribbon cutting practice...

then another scene.. when nesta and cassian went to meet eris in spring court and az excused himself saying gwyn wanted some dagger handling lessons..this was the next scene..

then when gwyn is able to cut the ribbon..

then after that they give them tasks ...

after hell bend practicing over the courses..this was gwyn's reaction to az and cass's smiling at their failure..

then to that nesta's reaction.

this was when they finally completed the course..

now az's reaction to them being in blood rite!

in my opinion there is no romantic coding between azriel and gwyn.. rather i see a brother sister bonding between them..they had nothing but training interactions..and mostly they don't showed a single sign of physical attraction towards each other which is literally the base of every canon ships of sarah j maas . what i see is a woman who is proving her strength to her guide, a woman being comfortable around his saviour..and a woman trying and learning to be strong! that's it.

SPECIAL INFORMATION- THIS IS NOT AN ANTI GWYN POST; I FEELS GWYN AND AZRIEL'S BONDING AS A BROTHER AND SISTER! NOT IN ROMANTIC WAY. SO I TAGGED GWYN. KINDLY AVOID IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THEY HAVE ANY ROMANTIC INCLINATION! IT IS NOT A GWYNRIEL POST!

#pro azriel #pro gwyneth berdara #gwyneth berdara #gywn berdara #azriel x gwyn #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel supremacy #azriel spymaster

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sweetclassyfreaknerd · 2 years

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House of Sky and Breath

My mind is burning. I can‘t even talk about anything yet. WTF??? I have so much theories. I just can‘t?????

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ouijacine · 2 years

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Just thought I’d drop a message on this account as I have over on Insta. You can now get commissions from me in the style you see above! (Yay). I’m still doing my realism commissions if that is of interest to you as well

Message on my insta: ouijacine. If you are interest in prices.

#ouijacine #fan art #gwynriel #azriel #gywn berdara

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nestaapologist · 2 years

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“Gwyn is actually a spy trying to get back at Feyre and Rhys for what happened at Sangravah.”

“Gywn could be lying about her SA.”

“Gywn can’t have sex again bc of her assault.”

#i don’t care who you ship but the amount of ppl trying to turn Gywn into a villain is mind numbing #acotar #acosf #gywn berdara #pro gywn #gywneth berdara

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sofakingr8 · 1 year

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How I imagine The Azriel book is going to be.... part 1

Okay here me out.

Koschei the sorcerer is prisoned on a continent. He according to legend takes women from all over the world... Like Zeus but he can't do that anymore as he is locked.

So, one day he sees a nymph wash up on his continent and is literally taken by her beauty. He houses her, takes care of her and they fall in love with each other and sorta get married and she gets preggers. and gives birth to twins. Things go smoothly for a year. But Castella the nymph is worried about why Koschei hasn't left the continent as she wants to go home.

Koschei hasn't told her about the curse afraid she will leave him too. Castella is not having it she wants to go as she feels like a prisoner. So one day she tricks him into venturing by 'singing' to him. He almost makes it out but the curse forms like a barrier just as he's about to leave. Here was the catch her daughters couldn't go too. That was when Castella became really afraid.

Castella with all her strength sings to the curse where she commands it to let her children go. Her voice is laced with fire and she half burns the curse. Successfully saves her daughters but seeing that Koschei held her captive withholding the truth--she leaves him. She swims away and reaches land for her daughters' safety. But by the time she reaches safety, everything in her is gone. She retreats to the ocean and abandons the children she so dearly saved. Losing memory of her human side as she stayed Nymph for too long and used her powers to a max.

Her twins are dropped at a monastry out of someone's kindness. Koschei having no memory of what happened... slowly starts putting the pieces together and writes to the bone carver. Only out of sheer curiosity does the bone carver visit. He leaves Suriel in charge of the children and also reveals to them that they are lightsingers. Until one day their monastery was raided and one of the twins was killed. The other one Gywn was luckily saved by Azriel and brought to Clotho. Who took her in and helped her.

This is when she recieves a letter from the bone carver telling her she needs a new 'Mentor' to learn using her powers as a lightsinger and connects her again to Koschei. Koschei drowning in depths of guilt and shame seizes this opportunity to reunite with his daughter and they frequently exchange letters.

Meanwhile a new friendship is formed with Nesta and upon her 'mentor's' urge to become closer to the high fae of the night court she starts coming to training. Through Suriel, Gwyn learns that her mentor is Koschei but not that he is her father.

On the night of the winter solstice, she heads out to the wind palace to receive a special letter containing a gift from the mentor but that is almost when Azriel catches her practicing and she does play it off cool. However, an hour later she receives the letter but another figure enters. Its Eris and he blackmails Gwyn but he doesn't know that letter is from Koschei.

Gwyn starts hanging out with him more following that as she is afraid he will tell someone. Azriel on the other with blooming feelings for Gwyn sees her preening with Eris and starts becoming jealous. Gwyn becomes vexed of Eris as he starts ordering her around so Gwyn decides to get him drunk and accidently push him over a cliff. He was a high fae almost indestructable and Gwyn was stupid to think her plan would work.

Eris gets drunk just as planned, he starts talking and gets everyone's attention. 'I know Beron's biggest secret' he says in between a burp. 'Her' he points at Gwyn and passes out. Just then Guards come out to arrest Gwyn, siting she is a spy of Beron working to up throne Rhys. Azriel watching all this unfold is taken aback.

Stop he orders... dont lay a finger on her. He cuffs her himself and takes her to interrogate her privately.

writing part two and will develop this is with proper words just putting the mind map out here

#gwyneth x azriel #gywnriel #gywn berdara #acotar fic #acotar #rhysand #nesta x eris #azriel x nesta #azrielhateseris #fanfic ideas #it will be spicy eventually

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emilia3546 · 2 years

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Shadowsinger Part 43 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

*****

Azriel swore under his breath at the sight of the rebel army, of the human forces standing side by side with the Illyrians. Siphon-fueled magic shielded them from an easy blow, and their numbers, shit, they'd make this interesting. He'd hoped that by now a good portion would have balked, given who they were facing and the dissent that his spies had been sowing for months now. But perhaps some of them had, it would have to be enough.

The wind seemed to halt the moment Feyre unfurled her spell, closing her eyes momentarily before starting to speak. He was right, the wind had dropped from a steady breeze to utter stillness, and Feyre's voice carried across the open space of the heath, each word carrying a power of its own, and adding to the humming of magic surrounding them. It fizzed and sparked through the air, and all of Azriel's training couldn't stop the slight stiffening of his muscles as it floated towards his wings. Feyre's chanting intensified, and the magic strengthened, swirling closer, closer, closer, before she practically screamed the final word and it bolted across the heath towards the army facing them, striking each and every Illyrian warrior who had rebelled. Shouts of surprise and anger reached them, but it seemed that they considered the spell a failure, and Feyre glanced back to where Rhys was standing beside Azriel, with Cassian on the other side. The High Lord nodded reassuringly, and Feyre slipped her hand into his when she rejoined the line.

Her face was taut, jaw clenched as she watched the approaching army, there would be no way to tell if the spell had worked until they attempted to take flight, and by then it would be too late to try again. Rhys nodded to Azriel and then to Cassian, grasping each of their forearms before each took flight to command one flank of the Illyrian legion. The Darkbringers would take their place on the ground once they took flight. Azriel waited a few agonizing minutes for Cassian to reach his position and to prepare his flank. Then he gave the order and, as one, thirty thousand Illyrian warriors launched skywards, the boom of wings drowning out anything else as they took their positions in the sky. The rebels attempted to mirror them, attempted and fell on their asses as the spell bound their wings, keeping them grounded.

Azriel smiled to himself as whoops of joy sounded from the air and ground around him, one moment of satisfaction was all he allowed himself before moving his warriors into position. One heartbeat of distraction was all it would take for everything to come crashing down.

The first blow was Rhys' to land, a scythe of darkness cleaving a gap in the now-vulnerable rebel forces on Cassian's side, and then on Azriel's. Cassian, of course, led the charge as the Illyrians divebombed into the broken lines, death and destruction following in their wake. The gaps in the lines widened, and Azriel pushed harder, diving to the weakness and driving a wedge of his warriors into the gap, forcing the rebel army to split into smaller, weaker groups. Shouts and cries of terror and triumph filled the air, the smell of blood and fear drowning out anything else as Azriel swerved to avoid a dagger hurled towards him, quickly returning the favor, more successfully judging by the grunt and thud as the offending rebel struck the ground.

When he caught and updraft to survey the field again, his breath caught at the sight of Cassian's warriors. There must have been only half as many as had taken flight mere minutes ago, and Azriel searched desperately for his brother, the telltale flash of his siphons nowhere to be seen. Moments before he pulled back to reinforce, half of the rebel Illyrians turned and struck at their human allies, shouts of betrayal and horror drowned out by the screams of dying men. There was nothing Azriel could do but watch as the human ranks buckled, then broke, rebel commanders screaming at them to hold, but neither could they do anything as the humans broke ranks and fled.

"Fall back!" Azriel bellowed, "Fall back!" His warriors obeyed in a heartbeat, disengaging and reforming their ranks in the sky above the rebels, ignoring the abuse being hurled at them from below. Somehow, Cassian had organised a large-scale betrayal, and he had done it in the midst of battle, but still, Azriel could not get eyes on the general, not until Cassian's side joined them in regrouping, and the rebels who had turned on their comrades flapped their wings, joining Azriel in the sky. Azriel's gaze snagged on one male, his movements fluid, so familiar he would him anywhere. Cassian was alive, not only alive, the male was a Cauldron-damned genius for pulling that off, not that Azriel would ever admit it out loud.

Azriel got no chance to reach his brother before the Darkbringers charged and he was forced to dive to the ground or risk casualties on both side from airborne attacks. This was where the true carnage would begin, no more clever strikes and retreats, no more tactical plans, all he had now to trust in was their advance planning, and superior training and skill.

He quickly lost track of the number he had fought and killed, his sword gleaming red from the blood sliding down it onto his gloves. He'd almost been crushed into the ground upon landing amongst the heaving mass of fighting warriors, no discipline, no order. He'd tried to re-form the lines, but the Illyrians had all been lost to the heat of battle, to the bloodlust that could overtake them, making them almost deaf to orders, certainly to ones of caution and retreat.

He swung his sword again, stumbling when it caught on the male's armor and he was forced to release it, rolling sideways to avoid the downwards strike aimed for his head, shadows suffocating the male who had seen him let go of the weapon. A sword, he needed one, the inferior reach of his knives would see him dead, but there were too many warriors around him, and he couldn't see the ground at his feet, let alone a sword. There, a warrior fell beside him and, whispering a prayer for the male's soul, Azriel caught his blade before it disappeared into the heaving mass of bodies, both dead and dying, rotating his wrist to block another blade flashing towards him, the sword sliding between his assailant's ribs before the male knew about it.

But they were giving ground, Azriel could feel himself being slowly cut off from his army, and snarled in annoyance as he retreated to the half-broken line behind him, rebels falling in his wake. They were down too many warriors, if they continued, they would be overrun, but he couldn't get enough space to take off to order a retreat and regroup. He gasped in a breath as a male stumbled into him, the sheer number of warriors around him giving him no space to recover as he fell.

The mud was suffocating, and each time Azriel tried to rise, someone stumbled over him, kicked him in the ribs or stepped on him. This was it, rule number one in battle was do not fall, or you'll never get back up, Azriel had always been slightly cynical, but now he saw the unequivocal truth in those words, it had nothing to do with his skill or strength, there was simply no opportunity. He tried again, but someone fell onto him, crushing the air out of his lungs, and he fought desperately to kick them off, coughing in an attempt to call for help, but little sound came out and he couldn't be heard over the roar of fighting all around.

"Retreat! Fall back!" Azriel's vision blurred from lack of air and he shoved upwards in a last attempt to survive, the male crushing him falling away as a space cleared. Azriel crawled away from the churned up mud, crouching as he drew in breath after breath,

Azriel! He blinked. That voice didn't belong to a shadow, no, that was Gwyn, his mate knew something was wrong, Azzy!

M' okay, I swear. He wasn't certain she could hear him but she'd reached him mentally twice now, so perhaps the bond really could link them like Feyre and Rhys in times of distress, even if neither were daemati.

"Az!" Cassian's voice boomed over the field as both sides drew back to regroup, Rhys' shouts of Azriel's name joining Cassian's a moment later. He allowed a flash of his siphons to alert them to his location, and forced himself to his feet, breathing finally returning to normal as Rhys landed in front of him.

"Still alive?" His brother panted, and Azriel smirked,

"And kicking, lost my sword though,"

"Pick another one," Rhys winced at the sight of so many of his people lying dead on the field, and Azriel's heart lurched at the thought of taking a dead male's blade, but he did pick another one, swearing to donate it to a youngster who needed it more if he survived this battle. Rhys offered him a hand to winnow them back, but as he turned away from the rebels' side of the field, a male Azriel had taken for dead surged towards them.

He couldn't tell what had made him move, for he was already moving before the rebel, stepping in front of Rhys and shoving his brother aside as he deflected the blow meant to kill the High Lord. He snarled as Rhys stumbled back at the force of Azriel's shove, blocking out the sound of outrage and battle cries as the Night Court's armies re-launched their assault on the rebel forces after seeing their High Lord attacked. Still, a circle of space seemed to surround Azriel and his opponent who, despite the blood and filth covering him was unmistakable. That smirk was twin to the one in his memories of fire and pain.

"Now isn't this a surprise little brother?" The male crooned,

"I think I'll enjoy this, would have loved the pleasure of killing father, but I suppose you two will have to do," Azriel spat,

"He's dead?" The male faltered just for a heartbeat at the easy lie, and Azriel struck, a series of lightning-fast strikes that had his brother stumbling back in his desperation to meet each one, giving foot after foot of ground, until Azriel relented,

"This is simply disappointing, I've wasted energy bothering to hate someone this pathetic. My nephew fights better than you!" The male winced at the shout, and struck back weakly. Azriel didn't bother to meet the blow, simply stepping sideways to evade the attack. He planted his foot into the male's ass, sending him flying into the mud. Rhys had recovered by now, but seeing the identity of the male, he kept back, content to guard Azriel's back and offer him this chance. Azriel snarled a challenge as the male he'd never claimed as a true brother stumbled to his feet. The sounds of battle all around faded as Azriel stared down the male who had tried to destroy a child, who had laughed as he screamed for his mother. The male who had taken his past now threatened his future, and that was one thing Azriel could not allow.

He sneered as the male panted in breath after breath, his grip on the hilt of his sword loose and unsteady. He swayed on his feet, eyes wide with fear as he stared at the boy he'd almost murdered, and the warrior who had stepped out of the fire and made the shadows his allies. Azriel didn't bother to raise his own sword, a sense of almost-satisfaction rising within him at the flare of anger in his enemy's eyes at the insult in his dismissal of his abilities. The male roared in defiance as he swung his sword, Azriel's blade meeting his in the air between them, the screech of steel on steel filling the air around them as nearby warriors halted to stare in awe at the clash of power. Death power struck for him, but Azriel met it with his own, his brother's two siphons no match for Azriel's seven. Azriel slid his blade down until the crosspieces met and shoved, hard, his brother's grip on his sword failing as the blade spun away, right into Rhys' hand.

The male stared in desperation after it, fear drenching his scent at the realization that he would not be able to retrieve it, or any other weapon.

"Please," he whispered, "I tired, I tried to make him stop, please, please,"

"Don't insult me by lying," Azriel spat, "If I cared about your excuses I would have asked, I would have asked our pathetic excuse for a brother. He seemed to think it was your fault, who am I to believe?"

"I-" Azriel cut him off before he could speak,

"I don't care. Neither is the true answer, because unlike both of you, I remember it all, you both delighted in every moment, and I would kill you for it, but someone told me recently that to destroy a monster you must be better than them, you most certainly are a monster, but unfortunately for you, I am not."

"Unfortunately?" He gasped, glancing across to where Rhys was leaning against a spear thrust point-first into the ground. The High Lord only shot him a grin that promised blood-soaked violence,

"Oh yes, I won't end you, but my true brothers most certainly will." The male's face paled, and he dropped to his knees, but Azriel didn't bother to stay to hear his pleas for his miserable life. He turned his back on the male he'd hated for so long, a weight lifting as the rebel lines buckled under a renewed assault. Without a leader to manage a retreat and regroup, the lines broke. With the lines broken, fighting broke out, but not between armies, no, this time the rebels that turned on their comrades really had betrayed them, had been biding their time, and Azriel would have bet Truthteller that he knew one of those males, what was his name, Nathan, that was it. Azriel made a mental note to find out if he was among those who'd defected from the rebels and to speak with him if so, he wanted to know why the young warrior had fallen in with rebels in the first place if, perhaps, he'd even had a choice. When the first male ran, the whole army streamed after him to cries of triumph from the Night Court's armies and the rebels turned loyalists. Despite their recent actions, Azriel would have to speak with each of them, to find where their loyalties truly lay. But that was a job for another day.

Azriel allowed himself a smile when someone stepped beside him, Rhys, his High Lord, his friend, his brother, draped an arm around Azriel's shoulders, and stood beside him as the Illyrian legions drew back, leaving the Darkbringers to halt, frozen for a moment before their commanders pulled them back to the war camp far behind the lines. Azriel closed his eyes, pulling himself back together in the shelter of darkness, of his brother's embrace. And when he opened his eyes again, his racing heart had slowed, his breathing had steadied, and his hands had stopped shaking. For the first time in five and a half centuries, he finally knew what true peace felt like, no worries in the back of his mind, just complete and utter peace, edged with joy for the future.

The sound of a boot catching in the mud behind him snapped that feeling, and he acted on instinct, whirling and snatching the dagger aimed to sever his spine out of an enemy's hand, spinning it as he slipped it between his assailant's ribs. Azriel stared into his so-called brother's face one last time, only his strength keeping the male upright as the light left his eyes and he slumped. Azriel's breath caught, but the horror he half-expected didn't come, it should have done, but he was beyond the small part that wanted to care, wanted his blooded brothers to care as the ones he had chosen. It had been too long, one too many let-downs, and he simply could not bring himself to care as he allowed the male's lifeless body to fall to the floor, the dagger swiftly following. Azriel was sure he'd hate himself for it later, but in that moment all he felt was relief, relief that he wouldn't have to worry anymore, relief that it was over, after centuries it was finally over. All he wanted was to go home, to see his mate, to let her slowly take away all the pain and guilt until he recognized himself again.

Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him away, not letting go until they reached the war camp. Cassian had taken command after they had stayed on the killing field, the Illyrians easily falling into their post-battle routines. The healers moved quietly between injured warriors outside and in and out of infirmary tents. Cassian had silently joined them in meandering through the tents until they reached the command tent, the Darkbringer camp to the left behind it, and the Valkyries' tents to the right.

He pushed the tent flaps aside, and his heart stopped at the sight of gorgeous teal eyes staring right at him. Gwyn launched herself out of her chair, crashing into Azriel's arms so hard that he stumbled back a pace to catch her. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and promptly forgot that their whole family was watching as she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He slid a hand into her hair, the other holding her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Time stood still when they pulled apart, and he pressed his forehead against hers,

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he whispered.

tags: @teagoddess99 @brenda5601 @azrielsdarling13 @1helena @shisingh @valkygwyn @soffiiione @toolazymyguy @awesomelena555 @trashforazriel @dealingdifferentdevils @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @almosttenaciousmoon @aightimmaheadoutsblog @alexoik @selfdestructionfetish @cozycomfyliving08 @sv0430 @jojooj3 @sayosdreams

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of silver flames #Gwyn #Gwyn acosf #gwyn acotar #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel #gywn berdara #Azriel #Azwyn #azriel shadowsinger

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