gwynrielweeksofficial

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Hey! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who helped put together Gwynriel Week. 💛 You all created such a beautiful, immersive experience, and honestly, it was exactly what the fandom needed. Seeing all the art, fics, edits, and posts celebrating Gwyn and Azriel was like stepping into a little pocket of pure joy. Every effort you and the contributiors put in truly shined through, and it brought so much love and excitement to all of us. Thank you for giving us this magical week we appreciate you more than words can say! 🩷

We are so so happy you enjoyed the event! It truly was a magical time and us admins couldn’t be prouder of how our community came together💙

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Thank you for the wonderful 2 weeks and we’ll see you next year for Gwynriel Weeks 2026🧡💙

Art by @gessueter

Comm by @freyjas-musings

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Don’t worry Az, Gwynis still your girl😌

Can you do jealous and possessive Azriel for Gwynriel?

How to Train your Valkyrie | Azriel X Gwyn

summary: Azriel sees the Illyrian Balthazar training Gwyn on a new weapon, which he suddenly decides is unacceptable.

word count: 400

author's note: Broooo @gwynrielweeksofficial ended YESTERDAY. I thought it was today. If you guys arent accepting anymore, no worries, but I thought I'd tag anyways. This is a fluffy mini fic/drabble, but I think its super cute. Hope you like, anon!

⊹ Masterlist ⊹ Read on Ao3 ⊹

Azriel was seeing red. That was… Balthazar? How did he even know her? What made him think that he could just… train her himself?

He could feel the hot puff of air from his flaring nostrils as the young Illyrian took Gwyneth Berdara’s hand, fixing her grip on a sharp karambit. 

“You hold this knife backwards. It’s best used for slashing, if ever a male grabs you, you can use the curve to slit his wrists.”

“Cool,” Gwyn whispered, awe sparkling in her big blue eyes. She attempted the motion as Balthazar held her bicep straight, crooking the hinge of her elbow. 

Without even noticing the first step, Azriel was striding over to the two of them, glaring furiously at Cassian, who was too busy flirting with his mate to notice the intrusion.

“Did you need help, Gwyn?”

She turned to him, looking as bright and energetic as she always did, even on this chilly morning. “No, I think I’ve got it. Balthazar showed me.” Gwyn seemed unaware of the way Azriel and his roiling shadows had already listened to every word of their conversation.

“Balthazar only just completed his rite,” Azriel answered, crossing his arms. He didn’t know where this petty, green behavior had come from. Something old and fae reared on its legs, coaxing him to show off. He puffed his chest slightly.

“I know,” Gwyn said as if it were obvious, “I was there. He helped us.”

“He what?”

Balthazar’s lips thinned into a line. He was still standing there, apparently. Though it pained him to admit, Azriel’s respect for him had gone up just a bit. 

“We… we were lucky to have found someone on our side.” Something haunted Gwyn’s eyes, darkness passing over them for a moment before she shook her hair, fixing a smile. “He’s a good male, right?”

Balthazar huffed a small laugh. “Thanks, I try.” He left the karambit in Gwyn’s hand, excusing himself. Respect or not, the hardness in Azriel’s jaw remained until the warrior was well away from Gwyn. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Azriel said flatly, “I don’t think he’s good enough to train you.”

He let out a soft oof as Gwyn’s fist hit him straight in the pec. 

“Don’t be a bully. I’ll never understand the need for you Illyrians to out-alpha each other.”

“I’m not being a bully,” he said defensively. “I just don’t want him teaching you wrong.”

A lovely little smirk curved Gwyn’s full lips. “Yeah, right.”

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Instagram || Twitter || AO3 Collection

Fanart

→ The Healer and the Torturer by @art.bymikki | comm by @freyjas-musings → Gwynriel x ATLA by artbyellat → Gwynriel x HTTYD by valeris.arts_ → Azriel teasing Gwyn by @cludiaa | comm by @freyjas-musings → In the Library by @thiaperezart → Sleepy and Flustered by kloartz → A Magical Moment by @Foxydraws__ → Showing Love by @llibiarts | comm by @norabraveseeker → Worship by brielyasmin | comm by @kt-reads-things @lulufoxlainfawn → Fanart by Isabella Mcmurray | comm by @freyjas-musings → Summer Swim by @michi.illustrations | comm by @acourtdelaluna → Moon and Shadows by @nearixx | comm by @foreverinelysian → Gwynriel x Love Island by Bluenefelibata | comm by @gwynrieldefenseatty @lovelymoonflower1 → See You Tomorrow Shadowsinger by jinart369 → Assistance by @honeyypears | comm by @gwynrieldefenseatty → Soft Embrace by sketchofcrows → Fanart WIP by bluestargirl_arts → Strolling in the Rain by @jadedbugart | comm by @harperbrynne → Magnus Fanart by @hlizr50 → Late Night Training by valerianrv → Apple Trend by @artinelysian

Fanfiction

→ A Court of Time and Relative Dimension(s) in Space Chapter 14 by @thevalkyriesshadow → Valkyrie Vice Part 14 by @sweetlikehoneydaze → With Ease by @grimseverity → Magnus Chapter 34 by @mystical-blaise → How to Train Your Valkyrie by @alicenchanted

Miscellaneous

→ Photograph by @sunshinebingo

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Gwynriel strolling in the rain🌧️

Art by @jadedbugart Comm by @harperbrynne

Link

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Gwyn singing to Azriel after a late night training. Best cure to his insomnia it seems.

Art by valerianrv

Link

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 14: Free Day

For the last day of Gwynriel Weeks I wanted to draw these two with the iconic apple trend!

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

A soft and cuddly Gwynriel art!

Art by sketchofcrows

Link

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Azriel helping Gwyn in the library!

Art by @honeyypears

Comm by @gwynrieldefenseatty

Link

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

A stunning pencil artwork of Gwynriel!

Art by jinart369

Link

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Oh la la!

TONIGHT ON LOVE ISLAND VELARIS… Azriel and Gwyn… make things official… and close off their relationship..”

@lovelymoonflower1 and I were obsessed with love island this summer and knew we had to team up for this for Gwynriel weeks. Thank you Bluenefelibata for being up to this!!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Gwyn finding her place with her friends and the love of her life was such a wonderful read!

⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆Valkyrie Vice ⋆ ✧ ✦ ⋆

Series Masterlist

⋆ Chapter Fourteen ~ Welcome Home Valkyrie ⋆

AN: This is it! x

The familiar buzz of Valkyrie Vice on open mic night was a strange kind of comfort, mixed with a nervous electricity that tightened around Gwyn’s chest.

The low murmur of voices, the clink of glasses, the scent of stale beer mixed with smokey wood and faint traces of whiskey—all of it swirled around her like a living thing.

She sat tucked in the corner backstage, the glow from the pink bulbs casting warm shadows across the cosy room.

Her fingers drummed a slow rhythm on the table, but the tremble in her hands betrayed the calm she was trying to wear like armour.

Nesta and Emerie flanked her, two anchors of calm and fierce loyalty.

Nesta’s sharp eyes softened as she reached out to squeeze Gwyn’s shoulder. “You’ve worked so hard for this,” she said, voice low and steady. “Weeks of singing for Azriel, countless hours in the park with that blindfold—singing in front of strangers when your heart was pounding through your ribs.”

Emerie nodded, her grin bright and full of belief. “You’ve built yourself up from those first shaky chords. It’s all led here, Gwyn. This moment, this stage. You belong here.”

Gwyn swallowed hard, the warmth of their faith wrapping around her tighter than any bind.

She thought back to every time she had sat the park bench, blindfold tied over her eyes, pouring her heart into her music.

Every moment of doubt and fear had been a step toward this stage, this chance to be seen.

Not just as the girl who sang quietly to herself, but as Gwyn, the singer with a voice worth hearing.

“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly, the words slipping out like a confession. “What if I mess up? What if they don’t like it?”

Nesta shook her head, eyes fierce. “You won’t. Because you’re not performing for them. You’re sharing a piece of yourself. And that’s more powerful than any crowd could ever be.”

Emerie leaned forward, her smile widening. “You’re ready. We all see it.”

The door creaked open, and Azriel slipped in, quiet as a shadow but radiating calm strength.

Nesta and Emerie exchanged a glance, the unspoken cue and slipped away with a parting kiss on the cheek, leaving the two of them alone in the dim backstage glow.

Azriel stepped closer, something soft curled in his fist.

She blinked, recognising it instantly—her blindfold.

Her mother's scarf.

The blue scarf that was worn and familiar— slipped through his fingers, a tether not for hiding tonight but for courage.

“I brought this,” he said quietly, voice low like a vow. “Thought maybe… it could still help. But not over your eyes tonight.”

Then, with a gentleness that made her throat tighten, he reached for her hair.

“Turn around,” he murmured.

She did, heart fluttering wildly, and felt the careful tug of his fingers as he began to weave the scarf into her braid.

Slow and reverent, like every twist was a word unsaid.

Like each fold was a promise.

“You don’t need it to hide anymore,” he said, close to her ear, the scent of him wrapping around her like a cloak. “But I thought maybe… if it was part of you tonight, part of your braid… it could remind you of how far you’ve come.”

Her breath hitched.

The softness of the scarf, the deliberate care in his hands.

It undid her.

Slowly, piece by piece.

“You’re so brave, Gwyn,” he added. “And strong. And when you walk out there, I want you to remember that.”

She turned to face him, blinking through the burn of unshed tears, heart cracking wide open with love.

Azriel’s fingers slipped into the pocket of his jacket, retrieving a small velvet box.

It was soft, new.

He opened it slowly, as if unveiling a secret treasure and inside nestled like stardust caught in moonlight, lay a delicate charm bracelet.

Each charm shimmered faintly in the muted backstage light, catching glimmers of the world beyond.

His lips curved with a subtle, almost mischievous smile. The kind that only came when he was utterly himself, utterly at ease with her.

“This,” he said softly, voice low and tender, “is for you.”

He lifted the bracelet to show her the first charm: a gleaming, graceful letter ‘A’.

“So you don’t have to get ‘Shadowsinger’ tattooed on your ass,” he teased, the lightness in his tone easing some of the tightness knotted in her chest.

Gwyn laughed, the sound bright and unexpected, a sudden bloom of warmth that unfurled inside her ribs.

Azriel’s voice grew reverent, reverberating with something older, something sacred. “Here,” he continued, “is a little cat—Shadow, your fiercest, most loyal guardian. He’s always by your side, even when you can’t see him.”

He touched the bracelet, gently coaxing it toward the next charm. “A music note because you are the music, Gwyn. Your voice isn’t just sound; it’s soul made audible. It carries light into the dark.”

Then, with a quiet pride, he lifted a tiny teal gem, iridescent and shifting with every tilt. “This one matches your eyes. Your storms. Your calm. The fire that’s always been there, waiting to burn bright.”

He traced a wing next. A slender, delicate shape, feathered and free.

“A Valkyrie’s wing. Because you are one now, Gwyn. From the moment you stepped through those doors, you’ve belonged to this family. To this tribe of warriors and dreamers.”

And finally, his hand stilled over the fragile teardrop pendant—the very one that had once belonged to her sister, the twin to the pendant around her neck.

It shimmered like a shard of memory, a piece of the past woven into the present.

“This,” Azriel said, voice barely more than a breath, “is the heart of you both. A piece of Catrin. A piece of your bond.”

Gwyn’s breath caught, her eyes shimmering with tears that gathered like morning dew on fragile petals.

She blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by how deeply he had listened, how meticulously he had woven her story into this small, perfect thing.

“Azriel…” Her voice broke, raw and fragile, caught somewhere between awe and gratitude.

He squeezed her hand gently, grounding her trembling. “Sorry I took it from the box without asking,” he murmured, the slightest vulnerability threading through his calm.

She shook her head, tears spilling freely now, glistening in the dim light. “It’s perfect. More than I ever could have asked for.”

“Wear it tonight, my Love,” he said, voice low and sure, “So when you’re out there, standing before all those eyes, you’ll carry a piece of her and a piece of me with you.”

He was so gentle as he wrapped it around her wrist.

The weight of the bracelet was more than metal and charm; it was a talisman, a promise, a shield made of love.

In the silence that followed, heavy with everything neither of them could say, Gwyn leaned up and pressed a soft, reverent kiss to his lips—one that said everything.

“You’re incredible and so thoughtful. I love you.”

His smile deepened.

The kind of smile that made her pulse quicken and the world fall away.

“Break a leg. I’ll be out there. Watching. Always.”

A soft kiss to her brow. “Oh and I love you.”

Before she could say more, the call came.

Her name cutting through the haze of nerves, the swirling storm of hope and fear.

It was time.

Gwyn stood just behind the curtain, her breath shallow and quick, heart drumming a wild rhythm against her ribs.

The murmurs of the crowd pooled in waves on the other side, swelling with anticipation, vibrant and alive.

The stage beyond beckoned—larger, brighter, and far more daunting than the quiet corners of the park where she’d practiced alone, or even the low-key days of singing blindfolded.

This was different.

This was real.

Closing her eyes, she felt the blue scarf, once her mother’s, woven through her braid.

A cool silk thread against the warmth of her skin.

It was more than fabric.

It was every whispered practice, every moment of doubt, every flicker of courage Azriel had helped her find.

Fingers traced it lightly, grounding her, tethering her nerves.

And then her gaze found him.

Azriel stood just out of the spotlight, his presence quiet but unyielding.

His eyes held a calm fire that was steady and sure.

No judgment. No expectation beyond belief.

It was like catching a lifeline in a stormy sea, that look of his.

He was her anchor, the steady pulse beneath the chaos. Her breath slowed, a fragile thread weaving calm through her chest.

The lights dimmed briefly, and then she stepped forward, into the flood of gold and white.

The world sharpened.

The rich scent of polished wood and mingled perfume, the faint hum of voices falling away, the prickle of heat under the spotlight.

Faces blurred into an ocean of silhouettes, but it didn’t matter.

As Gwyn raised the mic to slot into the stand, the stage lights caught the teardrop pendant on her wrist, a piece of Catrin she could carry always, its soft shimmer like a quiet beacon.

In that glint, she felt her sister’s presence—steady, unyielding—and a fierce determination blossomed inside her.

This was her tribute, her promise: to carry her sister’s light, to honour her in every note.

Her fingers found the worn fretboard of her guitar, each string humming under her touch, familiar and steady.

She swallowed the flutter in her throat and smiled softly, her voice a whisper but clear, carrying the weight of a thousand secret hopes.

“I’m Gwyn. This is an original song I wrote. It’s called ‘Hold the Light.’”

The first notes spilled out, tentative and trembling, like the first flame of a candle against the dark. But as the chords rolled forward, her voice grew stronger, clearer, weaving through the melody like a thread of pure light.

The words came, raw and aching—of loss and love, of shadows and fire, of holding on when everything else seemed to fall away.

With every lyric, the tight coil of nerves in her stomach loosened, unfurling like dawn’s first light stretching across the sky.

The sound of her own voice surprised her. It was fragile yet fierce, trembling yet sure.

The song was a vessel, carrying her beyond the fear, beyond the weight of the moment, into a space where she was utterly free.

The audience dissolved into background noise, a soft pulse beneath the surge of music and breath.

She was suspended in that liminal place between fear and flight, her heart syncing with the rhythm of the song, the vibrations thrumming through her fingertips, the steady gaze of Azriel watching from the wings.

Her voice soared then—strong and bright, a beacon cutting through the dark.

Every word was a lifeline, every chord a spark igniting the night.

She felt it deep in her bones, she felt the fire she’d carried all along, now blazing open and wild. The warmth of the stage lights wrapped around her like a cloak of belonging, of truth.

And then, as the final note lingered, trembling like a heartbeat held too long, the silence shattered.

The room erupted in applause.

A thunderous wave of sound that washed over her, lifting her higher than she’d ever dreamed.

Emerie and Nesta were at her side in an instant, arms wrapping her in fierce, joyous embraces.

Their smiles were bright, wide, proud.

Mirrors of the happiness blooming in her chest.

Gwyn’s eyes searched the crowd, catching Azriel’s again.

Their smiles met—quiet, electric, full of everything words could never say. In that moment, Gwyn felt whole.

She felt alive.

Even as the applause faded, the fire of the song still pulsed through her veins, carrying her into the warm glow of the bar.

The buzz had softened now, voices low and warm beneath the dimming lights.

Cassian came up first, sweeping her into a fierce, bear-sized hug that shook the last tremors of uncertainty from her.

“I’m proud of you, Gwynnie,” he rumbled, voice thick with something more than camaraderie.

Something like awe.

Gwyn laughed, breathless, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the music anymore.

Azriel stepped beside her, his arm sliding around her waist with an ease that made the world tilt gently on its axis. He pulled her close, the familiar weight of him grounding her, steadying her, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

“To new beginnings,” Azriel murmured, raising their glasses. The clink was soft but full of promise.

Emerie appeared then, her hand linked with a woman Gwyn hadn’t met before—Mor.

Her Lady of the Night.

Mor’s confident wave lit up the room like a sudden sunrise, her smile wide and unapologetic.

Nesta caught Gwyn’s eye and winked, a quiet declaration that the secret was out.

Emerie’s new love was theirs now too, woven into the tapestry of this strange, wild family.

Then, as the chatter softened, Nesta moved forward. Her voice, always sharp and commanding, now held something warmer.

Something rare and raw.

“Gwyn,” she began, eyes locking on hers, “from the moment you stepped into Valkyrie Vice, you were one of us. You may have walked through that door like a stranger, but you’ve never been just a visitor here.”

She paused, gaze flickering to the others—Cassian, Emerie, Azriel—all watching, waiting.

“You’ve fought your demons with a fire I don’t think any of us expected to see in someone so wonderful. You’ve bled and bled and kept coming back. You showed us what it means to be fierce but also what it means to be vulnerable. To be brave enough to stand when the world wants to knock you down.”

Nesta’s voice softened, edged with pride and something like love. “You don’t have to wear your pain like armour anymore, Gwyn. You belong here. We all do. This isn’t just a bar or a hangout. It’s a sanctuary. A family.”

Emerie stepped forward, holding out the leather jacket Gwyn had lent her when she claimed to have “forgotten” hers.

The jacket’s back was no longer plain; embroidered in silver thread was the Valkyrie Vice emblem, bold and shining and below it, Midnight Siren, a badge earned and claimed.

“You’re one of us,” Nesta said, voice steady. “Officially. This jacket is more than cloth—it’s history. It’s strength. It’s yours.”

Gwyn’s hands trembled as she slid the jacket over her shoulders.

The weight settled around her like a promise.

She looked up, eyes meeting Azriel’s. His smile was quiet but fierce, the kind that spoke of a thousand unspoken vows.

He pulled her into his side, warmth seeping into her skin, weaving around her heart.

She inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent and the faint, familiar musk of Azriel.

This was her life now.

Her home.

Her family.

She had left the pain behind. Left the badness, the fear, the lonely silence.

Here, in the glow of their acceptance, she was alive.

Whole.

And with Azriel beside her, and Shadow weaving like a living thread through their feet, she knew this was only the beginning.

Together, they would face whatever wild, beautiful moments awaited—hand in hand, heart to heart, their story just unfolding.

At last.

She was ready.

AN: The end. I hope you enjoyed their little story! And thank you so so so much for all the love and support this fic has been getting - on here and on ao3. It was a joy to write and such a comfort. Happy to have contributed to Gwynriel Weeks 2025 and thanks for having me! x

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Spice and healing? Sign us up!

With Ease, a Gwynriel Shortfic

Made this initially as a One-shot for Gwynriel Weeks, but it's since grown into a full shortfic about their relationship xD

Its spicy and its healing xP

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 14: Free Day

“And when the moon sings night, it’s the shadows who answer her cry.”

For my final Gwynriel Weeks commission, I am thrilled to share this artwork of Gwyn and Azriel by @nearixx ! I really wanted to the show the contrast of Gwyn’s priestess robes with Azriel’s shadows and Allie absolutely delivered with this stunner! It’s always so fun working with her and what a pleasure it was to see my idea brought to life!

Art by @nearixx

Comm by @foreverinelysian

Link

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

The vibe and aesthetic just screams Gwynriel!

@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 14 - Free Day

Photograph

Imagine... Gwyn and Azriel having a camera that's always lying somewhere in their shared house. They take pictures together or of each other, oftentimes unknown to the other. Then they leave the developed pictures in random places of the house with a little note on the back. In books, in underwear drawers, under coffee cups, stuck to mirrors,... Anywhere and everywhere...

- You took my breath away that night. Love, Azriel

- The things those wonderful hands did to me!! I will dream of it until we're together again. Yours, Gwyn

- I let you win just so i could see this smile. It won't happen again. Kisses from the happy loser, Azriel

- I hope our babies will be as cute as you look on this. Desperately in love with you, Gwyn

Now picture it while listening to this...

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

A wonderful way to depict Gwynriel as summer comes to a close!

My waves meet your shores, ever and evermore.” 🌊✨

Closing out @gwynrielweeksofficial with this summer-inspired commission of our favorite Valkyrie and shadowsinger. With summer slowly winding down, it felt like the perfect piece to share for Free Day. 🩵🌊

Huge thanks to michi.illustrations for bringing this vision to life, it’s always such a joy to collaborate with you as your professionalism, kindest and talent shine through everytime. ✨🤍🩵

Please do not screenshot, repost, edit, print, or use this artwork for any AI. Respect the artist’s work.

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Face card never declines when it comes to Gwynriel!

Last commission for @gwynrielweeksofficial 2025

Artist Isabella Mcmurray

Repost Not Allowed

Characters belong to Sarah J Maas