#anwen emrys

[archesa]

Hope you will enjoy this ^^ This is set in druid Anwen’s verse, as you shall see and can be read as a continuation to this fic ^^

(A little something I had written during the holiday season and felt like posting now 🥰 Originally promoted by @i-mybrunettelady from the Wintersday prompts ❄)

Quick summary : Anwen usually makes evergreen and holly grow for Wintersday but this year all she manages to bloom are mint and mulberry.

Wintersday miracle - A speck of life in the realm of death

The manor stood high on the hill, garlands and lanterns hanging from the windows ledge and ornamenting the pediment of the house. The Faren's winter's ball was an event looked forward to by everyone, the young and old, meek and the bold.

The party would start in a matter of hours and the household was buzzing with effervescence, masters and staff rushing about to prepare for the soirée. In the reception room, the servants busied themselves with the latest accommodations, a change in the traditional decoration of the hall — holly and evergreen noticeably amiss, as they were replaced by dark emerald leaves and coiling thorns of mint and mulberry. A touch of colour, in the shape of unripe blackberries, and a shimmer of fantasy in that of a few gold trimmed pine-cones were added in hope to make best of the unusual situation. A speck of light in the darkest hours of the year, the triumph of life in the realm of death.

Every year, Lady Anwen bloomed the decorations the very morning of the ball — evergreen, holly, mistletoe — and oversaw their arrangements for the rest of the day before it was finally time for her to don a dress for one of her infamously brief appearance at the party.

But this year, despite her best efforts nothing would bloom under her touch but these two plants.

Mint and mulberry.

Virtue and death.

Wisdom and self-sacrifice.

Poets would deem that the darkness of Orr still clung to her, or that perhaps her heart lingered on these distant shores...

"My dear daughter...", Lady Violet smiled, her eyes glistening knowingly, as Anwen ruffled the garland on the chandelier for the fifth time in a row, and, with a flick of her wrist, tried to bloom yet another ornament, only to be met with more emerald leaves exhaling fresh peppermint. "You really needn't trouble yourself... You simply have love on your mind."

The young woman almost tore her gown stumbling off the ladder she was perched upon.

She did have someone on her mind, someone who had expressed his regrets and declined the invitation, staying with the men in garrison at Fort Trinity. The post had surely been delivered by now, and she hoped he would like the content of the parcel she had sent this very morning. But surely the fact that her heart tightened in her chest when, despite all reason, she looked towards the threshold in hope to see him whenever someone pushed the door, had nothing to do with...

Love...

The night was dark and the spirits high when Anwen arrived at Caer Aval, leaving the strong scent of liquor and the sound of celebration far behind when she noticed the visible absence of the one person she sought.

She took in a deep, shaking breath, willing the trembling of her hand to still before she knocked on the metal door, thanking the cold air whipping the fort from over the bay for an excuse to justify her tremors.

The door cracked open, revealing a most surprised face.

"Commander..."

"Happy Wintersday, Marshal. I... apologize for intruding like this, I know you weren't expecting me..."

"I am always happy to see you, friend. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“I-... I received an unexpected gift tonight... some clarity... Wintersday is a time we're meant to spend with those we hold closest to our heart. And I realised there was nowhere else I wanted to be and no one else I wanted to be with..."

She willed to hold his gaze, a shiver running her through as he stepped forth, the cold nipping at her exposed shoulders all but forgotten in the warmth of his smile and the shimmering glow enlightening his features, setting her heart ablaze.

"And there is no one I hold dearest, Anwen."

The sharp whistle of a kettle shattered the moment. She let out a breathless chuckle and melted in his arms as he pulled her in a tender embrace.

"You must be cold. Can I offer you some tea?"

She nodded slowly, basking in the warmth of his glow and the scent of mint and mulberry. "Tea would be lovely."

[ariesmusingz]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ╱ WELSH NAMES MASTERLIST ( below the cut is #293 welsh first names. they are a mixture of feminine, masculine and neutral names, but please use as you see fit. please like / reblog if you found useful. )

feminine ;

addien

aderyn

adwen

aelwen

aeres

aerfen

aerona

aeronwen

aethwy

afanen

amser

anchoret

angharad

annwyl

anwen

aranrhod

arianrhod

arianwen

arlais

awen

awena

bethan

bethwyn

betrys

blodwedd

blodwen

blodwyn

braith

branwen

briallen

bronwen

bronwyn

brynn

buddug

caraf

cari

caron

carys

catrin

ceinwen

ceridewn

cerys

delyth

dilys

eilir

eira

eirlys

eirwen

eleri

eluned

enfys

enid

ffan

ffion

gaenor

gaynor

gladys

glain

glenda

glenys

glynis

glynnis

guenevere

guinevak

guinevere

gwawr

gwen

gwendolyn

gwenhwyfar

gwenifer

gwenllian

gwennan

gwenno

gwaldus

gwylan

gwyneria

gwyneth

haf

hafwen

heulwen

igraine

iorwen

kiah

lleucu

llinos

llywelya

lowri

lunet

mabli

maybn

madrona

madwen

mair

mairwen

mared

marged

medi

megan

meghan

melangell

menna

mererid

merlyn

morgana

morgause

morwen

myfanwy

nia

non

olwen

owena

raewyn

rhian

rhianna

rhiannon

rhianu

rhonda

rhoswen

seren

sian

sioned

siriol

sulwyn

talaith

tanwen

tegan

teleri

telyn

terrwyn

masculine ;

adda

aeron

aled

alun

andras

aneirin

arawn

arthur

baeddan

bedivere

bedwyr

berwyn

bevan

beynon

bleddyn

bowen

bran

broderick

brychan

brynmor

cadell

cadfael

cadfan

cadogan

caradoc

carwyn

ceron

cledwyn

collen

dafydd

dai

derwyn

dewey

dewi

dillan

dillon

dilwyn

eirwyn

elisedd

emrys

ercwlff

euros

gaerwn

gareth

geraint

gerallt

gethin

griffin

grittith

gruffudd

grugwyn

guto

gwalchmai

gwaltney

gwern

gwil

gwilym

gwydion

gwyn

hedd

heddwyn

howell

hywel

ianto

idwal

ieuan

ifan

ifor

illtyd

ioan

iolo

iorwerth

islwyn

kynan

lleu

llewellyn

lloyd

llyr

llywelyn

mabon

macsen

maddock

madoc

madog

meilyr

merewyn

meriadoc

mervin

mervyn

meurig

mihangel

mordred

myrddid

nye

owain

pasgen

peredur

powell

pritchard

pryderi

pwyll

rhodri

rhun

rhydian

rhys

romney

siarl

taffy

talan

taliesin

taran

trefor

tremain

trevelian

tudor

twm

urian

vaughn

yestin

ynyr

neutral ;

afon

avalon

avon

bricen

cadewyn

cadwalader

caerwyn

cai

cambrie

cariad

celyn

ceri

colwyn

crwys

dwyn

dylan

ebrill

eirian

elwyn

emlyn

evan

gaiwan

garan

glyn

glynn

gryffon

llar

meredith

morgan

mostyn

nesta

ninian

parry

pembroke

pugh

ragle

reese

rhoslyn

rice

sianai

tristan

uther

wynn

wynne

[archesa]

Well... I couldn’t resist!

Her Druid stuff’s not quite ready yet, but here’s a first glance at Anwen Emrys (aka Druid!Anwen) ^^

[archesa]

14, 15, 16, 20 for anwen :3

Ooooh! Thanks a lot for these! Some of these turned a little angsty but I hope you will like them still 😅

Enjoy!

14 - Ingrained habits/forces of habit

Tea!!

She's an absolute, unconditional tea lover! She carries a bag of her favorite melange in her satchels at all times and it is quite rare for her not to brew and offer a cup to her traveling companions.

15 - What it takes to make them cry

Maguuma and her absence from the fleet when it was attacked are very sensitive subjects — as Braham will learn the hard way.

She knows there was no other way — that her true calling was to Aurene, to defeat the Shadow of Mordremoth and protect the Egg — but she will always wonder what would have been if she had been onboard, if Trahearne had delayed the fleet's departure — just a few hours, to wait for her...

In the end, it was probably her being delayed, and being there to take leadership of the stranded soldiers, to reunify he Pact in the wake of its shattering defeat, that allowed them to bring the Dragon to its fateful end... And she did everything in her power to save as many lives as she could...

But having people question her goodwill and her motivation in Maguuma is bound to have her crumble into a deep, messy, sobbing anger.

16 - Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

Survivor's guilt...

Looking back on the people and the friends they have lost, especially during the Campaign of Orr, and being utterly incapable of thinking and meaning 'it should have been me'...

Sieran was her friend, her mentor... and her sacrifice was a heartbreaking, helpless moment... But one she never allowed herself to revisit, to wonder if things could have been different if only Commander Talon had listened to them, of only she had been quicker to light the beacons, if only she... — she cannot bring herself to complete that thought, cannot feel it, cannot mean it... And she loathes herself for the relief she felt when the Island disappeared in the mist, when the ship reached the harbour, when the cold of Lornar's Pass greeted them home, to the safety of the Priory... and for the thought that crossed her mind and never left it, like a brand on her soul, when Meryw told her she was her Wyld-hunt. 'Perhaps it's better this way...'

... And survivor's guilt adjacent.

The dread, the consuming fear of what they would find in this Mordrem internment camp, the helplessness of witnessing Eir's death...

And this sinking, bitter, poisonous feeling : relief.

It wasn't Trahearne.

20 - What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

Haaa!

What if she became an Elementalist💧 What if she became a Druid 🌱

And now I have my 3 starters ! Fire, water and plant! 😁

Since I've talked at length and have a way too angsty chapter in the waiting for the former, let's talk of the mess of ideas and half-baked plotlines I have and hope for them to fit in some sort of story in the end for the latter 😅

In this verse, Anwen's everlasting fascination for botany and gardening bloomed into a real vocation. While her brother studied the blade, she perfected her archery and learned to attune to the spirits of nature, calling onto stellar and earthen forces to aid her in battle. During the Battle of Shaemoor, she countered and impeded the assault of the earth elemental on the garrison, thus earning the Seraph enough time to repel the centaurs and as such gained the attention of both the Seraph and the Shining Blade.

During the campaign of Orr, Trahearne and her spend countless hours trying to find the Source of Orr, conjecturing several locations before their expedition in the Temple of Grenth confirmed their musings.

Perhaps she is not called to arms when the war against Scarlet erupts, and stays in Caer Aval, working on the restoration of Orr.

Perhaps she is less bound by the expectations bequeathed on a knight of Kormir or an unofficial court wizard and as such less held back when — in the aftermath of the world summit, when the dust settles and the Shadow of the Dragon flees — her heartmost desire is to run to Trahearne.

In any timeline, in every universe, he has absolute trust in her, no doubt that she will come for him, turn the tide of war and defeat the dragon.

But perhaps he counts on her affinity with nature to temper the power of the Dragon, to help him control its wrath, to stand as one and lull it back to sleep.