#carynthian singers

[tato-acm]

gwyneth berdara - scenes (3/?): bonus chapter

>> fav gwyn fc: kennedy walsh (19/?)

He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?" Gwyn's teal eyes flashed with alarm. "No! I mean, I don't mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone." Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. "Is that why you came up here?" Sort of. "I forgot something," he reminded her.

"At two in the morning?"

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

"A comfort to every growing child."

Azriel’s lips twitched. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow. [...]

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. “Do you sing?”

He blinked. It wasn’t every day that people took him by surprise, but… “Why do you ask?”

“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

“I am a shadowsinger - it’s not a title that someone just made up.”

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you, though?” she pressed. “Sing?”

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” - Azriel bonus chapter

[surielstea]

Wedding Crasher

Based on this request.

Paring: Azriel x Fem!Reader (mates)

Summary: Reader is forced into an arranged marriage, and when the day of union comes it is interrupted by two familiar Illyrian warriors.

Warnings: Toxic relationship with parents | forced marriage | Azriel threatens a life | but pretty much all fluff <33

2.4k words.

My white dress hung heavy on my shoulders, my corset too tight, my heels already making my feet ache.

The plastered smile on my face hurt my cheeks, and the thorns in my bouquet prickled my sweaty palms. I released a shaky breath as the music of the string quartet began to play, an unmistakable tune meant for happy brides ready to walk down the aisle.

Which is what I was supposed to be, happy, ready. Heads turned in my direction and my back straightened, my brows creasing the slightest fraction.

My husband-to-be waited at the end of the walkway, his smile broad and malicious. My stomach churned.

I didn't want to be here, here on this beach getting married to some guy twenty years older all for an alliance my parents forced me into. My self-sovereignty for what? For a few pieces of gold and a minor title?

I took a steadying breath and began walking forward, keeping in rhythm to the strum of the music. The groom reached his hand out towards me, my own shook as I took it and he pulled me the rest of the way to the altar.

The officiant began the reading from his script, and with it, my ears began to ring, I tuned the priest out and my eyes fluttered closed. My fiancé's hands squeezed mine, not in a comforting manner, but a warning. I snapped my head up and looked at the officiant, I blinked at him with creased brows.

"Do you, take Rhen Talor to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do you part?" He repeated each word adding another pound of weight to my shoulders.

"I—" I look between the oblivious officiant and the groom, Rhen, to my parents who were watching with narrowed eyes. "I..." I wanted to say yes, I was going to say yes, but the pounding in my heart could be heard in my ears and I got the sneaking suspicion that I was about to vomit all over my white gown.

An unnatural wind blew my hair back as if nature itself was beckoning me to step away, to run.

I looked in the direction of the wind, my hands slipping from Rhen's as I spotted two towering, familiar winged figures in the distance and I realized the pounding in my ears was the beat of their wings.

The crowd murmurs at the intrusion as the two Illyrians casually stroll towards us, arrogance and power in each step.

"Excuse me for a moment," I say, gathering my skirts in my hands and rushing over to the two males as fast as I can in my heels that seemed determined to get stuck in the sand.

"What in the seven hells are you two doing here?" I seethe, looking at the fae warriors who were smiling at me with wicked amusement. Some part of me relaxed to feel anything besides fear and nausea, even if it was anger taking over.

"We're here to save you, what else?" The shadow singer arches a brow, dark shadows swirling up the pure white of my dress.

"I don't need anyone's saving, especially not two Carynthian warriors," I argue and Cassian snorts, taking in my appearance.

"I only came along because Az promised there'd be a buffet," The lord of bloodshed shrugged.

"Not for— this is wildly inappropriate, even for the two of you." I groaned but Cassian only continued walking, towards the guests that were scrambling away from the sight of his seven siphons. Leaving me and Azriel, our words drowned out by the crashing of the waves.

"You're too late. I already said I do," I cross my arms over my chest.

"Liar," He narrows his hazel eyes on me. "You know better than to try and fool me, Love, I could feel you tugging at the bond, you were in distress," Azriel took a dangerous step forward and I sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of the bond, not accepted but not rejected either. A bridge between us that I both refused to sever and to walk across.

H grabbed my hand that was prickled with the thorns of my bouquet, shadows soothed over my palm, relieving the sting of my minor wounds. "You shouldn't be here," I frowned but his smile remained.

"No, probably not, but I can't let you marry him," He said, his voice brooking no room for argument, ever the cool and collected male.

“Go home, Azriel,” I speak quietly, but not weakly.

“Come with me.” He matches my tone, his scarred fingers intertwining with my manicured ones and the sensation was so different than the feeling of Rhen’s grip. "Why did your parents arrange this? What are they gaining from this union?" He asked, voice slightly stiff at the idea of selling me off for their own personal achievement.

"Money, the Talor's have a small title and crop of land, it'd be enough to last us a few centuries,” I shrug. I loved my parents, despite their twisted and corrupt ways, I loved them because they fed and raised me, I loved them because they put clothes on my back and told me bedtime stories. I never assumed I’d have to pay them back, not this way, at least.

"I'll give you every cent to my name if that's the price of my mate's freedom, if money is what they want, they can take mine." The shadow singer stated, his words certain that it made me realize that I’ve never been as sure about anything as he was about this.

"I can't ask you to do that." I shake my head, slipping my fingers from his, knowing the lingering guests were watching.

"You don't have to, I want you to be happy, let me buy you then set you free." He implored, allowing my hand to fall to my side only because he moved to cup my cheek. "And if I'm lucky you'll fall in love with me along the way." He shrugged with a smirk of pure fae male arrogance.

"Az," I deadpan, the words half a growl.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, I'm asking you not to marry him." His eyes flick back to the male watching with furious eyes from the archway. "If you tell me to I’ll leave, and you can walk down that aisle again— but let's not kid ourselves, you never wanted this, never wanted him,” His hand on my face made me melt slightly, and he was right, despite wanting to pay my mother and father back, this is nowhere near anything I wanted.

I swallowed thickly, weighing the options. If I married Rhen my parents would be happy and this would all be water under the bridge— but I’d suffer a life of being both a housewife and broodmare with a male who did not truly love me.

If I went with Azriel my parents would likely attempt to cleave us, unless Azriel paid them as he said he would, as long as gold was placed in their hands I doubted they’d have much argument— and I could be free to choose what I wanted with my life, I could accept my mating bond.

"But where will I go? What will I do?" I ask, my mind filled with questions that could only be answered by my future self.

"It's entirely up to you, you can live with me, or you can move to another court, whatever you choose. You'd be free." He stresses and my mouth gapes open, then closes. I look to the waves crashing against the shore only a few yards away, shouting at me to flee, to go with him.

All of it was too good to be true, Azriel coming to be my savior with this plan. It couldn’t be real and I needed him to punch me so I could wake up from this dream.

"Though I'd prefer if you stayed close, it's painful having you so far even right now— and you're only a city away, I can’t imagine a whole court,” He added and I looked back to him, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips.

"I haven't even accepted the bond yet and you're already desperate." I tease.

"Yet?" He arched a scarred brow.

I flush a soft hue and avert my eyes again, this time settling them on the approaching figure that formed a knot of anxiety in my stomach.

"You're out of line, get your hands off my bride you bastard." Rhen spat and I flinched at the way he cursed the word, Azriel didn’t so much as shift, in fact, I could’ve sworn there was a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Out of line? No, I'm exactly where I should be, you're the one that's in my way." The shadow singer smoothly replied, Rhen snarled at his retort and grabbed me just above my elbow, his grip as tight and immovable as iron.

"Don't touch me." I gritted out, tugging at my arm but he didn’t budge and simply pulled me back towards where the officiant stood, uneasy on his feet.

"Come on, be a good little wife, and finish the damned ceremony," Rhen growled, and before I could take even another step towards the archway my fiancé halted, freezing in his footsteps as shadows wrapped around his limbs, his neck, encasing his body and shoving into his open mouth, restricting him of oxygen.

"She told you not to touch her Talor, so I'd highly suggest you let go or you won't have a hand anymore." The Spy Master’s voice was death incarnate, I had never heard anything so paralyzing in all my immortal life. It chilled me down to my very bone, and I thought that I might be carrion if I was ever on the receiving end of my mate's deathly stare.

Rhen’s hand releases me if only to grasp at his own throat, silently pleading with his eyes to have mercy.

The shadows released him and Rhen was sent running, sprinting as fast as he could away from the male that stood before me, now looking at me with an incredulous grin. Insane, he must’ve been insane— and I must’ve been too, to be so in love with that smile and the dimples that came along with it.

"You were seriously going to marry him?” He scoffed, hand coming to my arm and inspecting the area Rhen held me for any injury.

"Well, it wasn't really my choice," I grumble under my breath as Azriel lets go of my arm with a gentleness that rivaled his vicious exterior that occurred only moments ago.

Azriel’s eyes flicked over to the few remaining guests and I turned in the direction he stared, at my parents who were staring with both helplessness and fury in their eyes.

"Me and Cass will deal with them later, let's get you out of here, alright?" He tugged at the tether between us and my head whips back to him.

“Okay,” I nod and reach out, my hand finding his. His eyes soften as he pulls me into him, wrapping a wing around me and cocooning us in darkness before he utilizes his shadows to pull us into another realm entirely, it was only a brief moment of darkness and an empty void before my heels were on a hardwood floor and the sweet citrusy smell of Velaris flowed through my nose.

"We left Cass," I say, glancing around to find the second Illyrian nowhere to be found.

"He was in the midst of stuffing his face with bread rolls, I think he'll be just fine." Azriel half scoffed, half chuckled. He pulled away but before he could completely slip from my grasp my hand tightened on his and his brows lifted a fraction, eyes lighting with intrigue.

"Thank you." Is all I can manage to say.

"Don't thank me." He shakes his head. "I should have gotten you out of there far sooner." He spoke as if he was more dissatisfied with himself than anyone else.

"But still, when it mattered you came for me," I utter, taking a cautious step forward.

"You're my mate, even if you haven't accepted the bond, it's my duty to keep you safe— you shouldn't have even been out of my sights," He says, his voice soft as he looks down at me, hand squeezing mine.

"I wasn't, not really." I hum, gesturing down to the shadow that swirled around my ankle, the one that would always remain there.

He smiles at the thought, then says, "You look beautiful, by the way." His eyes flick down to my white gown and I follow his gaze, smiling softly at the dress, it had been the only thing that was my decision in this entire endeavor.

"I only wish that it was your choice to put that dress on, this morning," He added, as if reading my mind, and for a moment I wondered if the mating bond allowed him to see how I felt.

"It will be, one day," I nod confidently and his brows raise with insinuation. A gentle smile blooms across my lips and I cup his sharp jaw. “But for now, baby steps,” I suggest rising up onto my toes, leaning closer, placing a kiss on his adjacent cheek.

When I pulled back he was beet red and I giggled at the sight, it was a wonder that this male, who flushed at a chaste peck on the cheek, was also one of the most feared in Prythian.

“Right,” he swallowed down the lump in his throat, his hand only a phantom at my waist, hovering. "I'll have money sent to your parents by Dawn." He says, then quickly adds, “Even if they don’t deserve it.”

I smile brightly and pull away. “Thank you, Az,” I murmur.

“Anything, for you.” He confessed, and I knew he meant it. I smiled, thinking that in the morning I might reward him with some breakfast, in turn, accepted that golden tether between us and finally allowed myself to be happy, with a mate.

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[silly--fangirl]

Gwyn is an absolutely adorable, lovely, awesome and strong person. A badass, first reborn valkyrie. A priestess of the Mother. A carynthian. A descendant of water nymphs. A breathtaking singer. A beautiful woman.

AND SOME PEOPLE HATE ON HER BASICALLY BECAUSE OF A MAN?

[gwyn-nesta-emerie]

Elain - The Fawn. The woman who can see the future. The gardner & baker. The Peacekeeper.

Lucien - The Fox. The man who can see through spells & glamours. The fisherman. The Peacekeeper.

💛〰️💙〰️💛〰️💙〰️💛〰️💙〰️💛〰️💙

Gwyn - The Priestess. The Valkyrie. The Carynthian. The Singer. The Saint.

Azriel - The Shadowsinger. The Torturer. The Carynthian. The Singer. The Sinner.

[gwynethshadowsinger]

There is something poetic about these duos:

Gwyn & Azriel - Both are singers & Carynthians. Both are competitive. Both seem to like research. I could see them fighting well together.

Elain & Lucien - Both can see things others can not. One sees the future, the other sees through glamours/spells. Both are sly like foxes and would prefer a quiet, peaceful life free from violence.

Both of these duos were quite literally made for each other 💖

[sunshinebingo]

What's your main ship - Gwynriel/Elucien

Moment you shipped them ?

3 reasons you ship them?

What is the one thing you want to see in their book?

Gwynriel is my favourite ship, all fandoms included. That being said, I'm a Gwyn fan 1st and a Gwynriel 2nd.

Every moment they shared in acosf made me squint my eyes and go "hmm I spy a little something going on here". Whatever these early signs mean, I'm in. That feeling grew bigger with each one of their interaction I read. By the end of acosf I was already aboard their ship. Then many months later I learned about the BC. Read it, loved it, shipped it even harder!

I love their individual characters and their individual stories. Since acotar is a romantasy, it's highly possible that everyone will end up with a LI, especially those who have such a central role in the story. And if both Gwyn and Azriel are to find their other half at some point, I think they could be a perfect match. Which leads me to the 3 reasons you asked for dear anon...

1. Although their past experiences are different, I think there are similarities they share in terms of feelings and goals (rooted in the past and about their present self). Both have displayed their willingness to put others before themselves which, although is heroic and beautiful in the lengths they are going to go to protect those they love, can be heartbreaking for themselves in the sense that they believe themselves to be less worthy (1 proof being the guilt they feel when thinking that they failed at protecting/loving). I think together they can walk a path towards healing that works both for their individual selves and as a pair

2. Their potential... The banter, the competitiveness, any conversation they might have - whether it takes a deep dive into their trauma or trying to prove who can beat who at what. Gwynriel imo can serve angst and fluff and fun (and something that's also smoking hot 🔥). Let's not forget about the shadows who seem to love her. Imagine what Gwyn and them can get up to 😌

3. Their aesthetic... The shadow boy and the girl who glows, 2 singers who need therapy and someone to sing their insomniac ass to sleep, dark haired broody boy who glances at his redhead sunshine girl giggling and squealing, 2 strong carynthians who are stubborn and determined once they set their minds on something, etc etc

I don't think I can pinpoint a single exact thing that I want to see in their book. I'm just excited to see their relationship progress and all the things they will get up to. I want their book to rip my heart out and put it back in. I want to see more of the Valkyries. I want Gwyn and Az to recognise their worth and find their happiness, both in themselves and with each other

Have I talked too much?? 😅 Thank you so much anon!

[dreamsandstars24]

To be known by you

I'm just gonna giggle like a little girl and drop this here in Tumblr.

This is a little peek into something I've been working for a while now. It's gonna be a series (elucien/gwynriel) but the main characters will be Elain and Gwyn. ELRIELS, BRYRIELS OR WHOEVER OTHER TOXIC SHIP YOU BELONG DO NOT INTERACT.

WARNINGS: Honestly, just two girls being girls (👩‍🦰🗡👱‍♀️🌸).

Enjoy this little peek! And don't forget to show your support, I really want to keep this one going.

Elain was convinced that she, as a matter of fact, did not belonged in the night court.

But then, she didn't belong in any court.

The proof was how she had asked to go to the house of wind to visit Nesta and Cassian, but since Nesta was not there and Cassian had to go somewhere she wasn't allowed to know because she wasn't a member of the inner circle, they had dropped her off at the house and told her that someone would go and take care of her soon.

Now, she was there, a grown woma--female, and she was waiting for her nanny to come and pay heed to her needs.

She didn't know what was more pathetic: the fact that they thought she needed a nanny, or the way she simply accepted it.

Currently, she was looking around the library, remembering those first months where she had been reborn, remembering how empty she felt at the way she had lost everything. She still felt like that sometimes.

"You must be Elain." A voice behind her said, curiosity being laced with the delicate voice of the female.

Elain turned around ready to find an actual nanny, but instead she found a tiny red haired girl with teal eyes and a million freckles, with a toned body being covered by illyrian leathers.

The female blinked at her, and Elain found her voice. "Yes," She mumbled and then shook her head clearing the whispers in there. "I mean: yes, I am Elain."

The red haired girl nodded and closed the library door behind her. "Well, I must confess that I was expecting to take care of a kid." Elain blushed furiously which caused the red haired girl to hurry and explain. "Not that there is something wrong with needing someone to take care of you! Because it is okay, I should know ," the girl shook her head with a sight. "What I mean is that the way Cassian said I had to come and they way he worded it made me believe I would be babysitting."

That unsettled Elain. The inner circle had stopped protecting her a long time ago and had started to keep her locked within herself. They didn't told her anything, they kept quiet always, they didn't include her in plans that could possibly affect her.

And Rhys, by the cauldron, Rhys acted with Nesta so horribly simply because Nesta hadn't kept Feyre from going into the forest to hunt. Sometimes, when Rys was being a total arse, she imagined herself getting up and screaming at him that she was also guilty of it, that Nesta wasn't the only one to blame.

Sometimes the guilt ate her alive. Yes, she had no idea about hunting like Feyre or being aggressive like Nesta but she knew how to grow things. She could have grown vegetables to feed her family instead of spending all that money on flowers. But the inner circle only blamed Nesta, and kept Elain in a cocoon that was starting to deem a bit too tight.

"I do not need a nanny." Elain mumbled quietly, not wanting to offend the female that had clearly gone to babysit her in good graces.

The red haired girl nodded. "Noted. What about company? Azriel is going for bloodshed today in training and even though I am up for a challenge most of the time, I have my cycle and I feel near death."

Elain nodded curiously even though the mention of the shadow singer had moved an old wound inside her. Her mind whispered a name and Elain couldn't help but ask, "what is your name?" The female walked to one of the couches, giving her a soft smile.

"Gwyneth Berdara, but you can call me Gwyn." She recognized the name.

Gwyneth Berdara, one of Nesta's closest friends. She had won the blood rite as a carynthian, was a valkyrie and was an acolyte in the library.

Not only that, but she was also Azriel's mate.

The knowledge made her wince a little. After winter solstice, after the fiasco with Azriel, she have had a vision.

Azriel had gone with Rhys and Elain had been left clutching her necklace for dear life when the vision suddenly struck her. In her vision, Azriel was laughing but she couldn't hear his laugh, his eyes were sparkling as he stared at someone, and then a blur of red was going in circles around him, with a soft laugh echoing through her mind; his shadows were twirling freely and peacefully, and when the blur stopped, she saw red hair and Azriel gave a step forward and whispered "Gwyneth."

Elain had been able to see the threads of the mating bond between them, had seen the love and the longing in Azriel's face and she had known that she didn't stood a chance against it, so she had left the necklace behind and walked to her room, just a few door away from her own mate, and cried herself to sleep. Now, his mate was right in front of her and she was sure he knew who she was.

Her knowing who he was seemed impossible, but that was not her business. She had enough with her own mating problem, or in better words: the lack thereof.

[aurevoir-moncheri]

“Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.”

[aldbooks]

New Azriel headcanon from Azriel’s visits to his mother

The first time she notices him mention the priestess, there’s a distinct difference in his tone of voice, the expression on his face, as he tells her about his midnight encounter with the young female and how she asked if he was a singer, laughing to himself. It’s an inconsequential story. Not particularly relevant to the other things he tells her, but there’s a softness, a fondness when he says her name - Gwyneth - like he was compelled to mention her. It’s a brief story, no more than a few sentences before he moves on to tell her about the snowball fight with his adoptive brothers, but his shadows stir as the mention of her. Curious.

The next time he mentions her he doesn’t even say her name, yet she knows he’s speaking of her when he tells her about the three females who competed in the Blood Rite. His siphons flash when he mentions finding their beds empty and Cassian’s panic at realizing what his mate had been forced to do and that he could not intervene. Then he tells her that they made it to the top of the mountain. That two of them won; that they are not only the first Carynthians since he and his brothers, but the first females. There’s a warmth in his hazel eyes. One that speaks of pride and wonder.

She’s startled from an afternoon nap on the porch where she’d been enjoying the summer sun when Azriel bursts through the door, clearly agitated. He begins pacing around the small deck and starts speaking without prompting. “She’s so bloody stubborn. She’s going to get herself killed!” he growls. Her brows raise at the mixture of annoyance and concern in his voice and posture. Before she can ask, he continues, swiping a distracted hand through his hair as he vents about his argument with the priestess. She can barely pay attention to his words, too diverted by his behavior. Her son has never looked so... discomposed.

The next time he visits, he sits quietly beside her, staring out the window in silent contemplation. His reservedness is not new to her, but there’s an undercurrent to his energy, somehow simultaneously restless and settled. “How is she?” She has to swallow a smile when he startles, and gives her a nonplussed look. “The priestess. Gwyneth?” He blinks, his expression immediately turning guarded. Interesting. “Why do you ask?” She shrugs. “You’d mentioned her at least once the last few times I’ve seen you. I was merely curious.” She swears a slight blush touches his face as he rattles off a quick assurance that she’s ‘fine’ before changing the subject.

He visits after Solstice, joining her for dinner. He answers her questions distractedly, staring at his plate and pushing the food around with an almost dreamy expression. He looks more relaxed than she’s ever seen him. She smiles, leaning back in her chair. “Azriel.” He glances up with that slightly dazed smile he’s been wearing all night. “Tell me about her.”

[tato-acm]

domingo - 26. 05. 2024

I've just finished season 2 of Invincible and... (SPOILERS!)

Mark and Eve gave me big Azriel and Gwyn vibes:

they are both equals (superheroes x Carynthians + singers)

Redhead baddie (who lost her family) x Flying darkhead + bluesuit hottie (+daddy issues + has issues with his race/origins)

Competitive buddies + Partners in missions

Friends to lovers

Eve really listens and gives great advice to Mark, he clearly is comfortable around her and opens up to her.

And the rooftop scenes remind me of the Azriel Bonus chapter 🥹

PS.: He even saves her in that first battle - seeing her hurt is what made him snap - and that REALLY reminded me of Sangravah 💔

I just love them and can't wait to see them together in season 3!!

[daevastanner]

Nyx and Catrin Archeron Berdara - pt. II

Nyx can’t breathe when he sights Catrin Berdara. He can’t form words. His mind reels and he drinks in the sight of her.

She has skin like the moon of the Night Court and the hair piled high atop her head is the color of Autumn Court Ravens. And her eyes… Her eyes are like the pools of Summer Court.

But most beautiful of all are the shadows that skitter about her shoulders and twine around her tucked in wings.

Beautiful, is all he can think.

A shadow nips at her ear, and then… she’s looking at him.

Look, singer, they whisper to her.

And similarly, when Catrin spies Nyx, her breath is stolen from her. She can’t bring herself to look away, even as Emerie and Morrigan’s sons congratulate her. Even as Cassian hands her a glass of wine and presses a rough kiss into the crown of her head.

Gods, she thinks, he must be Nyx.

He has the blue eyes of his mother, and the golden skin and blue-black hair of his father. The cut of his jaw and cheekbones make him appear as though he is carved from stone.

He’s quite leanly built compared to his father. He has strong shoulders and powerful wings, but there’s a sort of boyish lankiness to his form. But Catrin suspects beneath his finery, she’d find much evidence of his past training in Windhaven.

But why is she imagining what’s beneath his finery? And why can’t she stop staring at him? Why can’t he stop staring at her?

Her feet carry her across the room, and it seems like the entirety of their family unconsciously parts to clear a path so she may reach him.

Nyx also feels like a puppet. His feet moving of their own accord towards her as well.

His throat is thick and he doesn’t know why.

Catrin’s eyes sting for some unknown reason and her shadows hum a song that she can’t quite make out.

And they arrive before one another, staring at each other in silence.

Catrin is rarely without a quip on her tongue.

Nyx is hardly ever lost for words.

So he holds out a hand. “You must be Catrin.”

She smiles at him, accepting his offered hand. “Yes, and you must be Nyx.”

Pull yourself together, he thinks, trying not to stare too closely at the shadows that dance about her bare shoulders.

He gives her a roguish grin. “Always nice to meet a fellow Carynthian.”

Catrin’s laugh is soft, she grimaces at him. “Mm, yes. But not quite a Carynthian in the same measure.”

Nyx arches a dark brow at her.

Catrin shrugs, teal eyes dancing. “I heard it took you two attempts to beat the Blood Rite.” She points a finger at herself. “First try.”

The laughter that spills from Nyx is not forced. It has been some time since he’s been spoken to in such a manner. Catrin chuckles with him and he notices how it scrunches her nose.

“You’re just as competitive as your mother,” Nyx grins.

“Mm, do I detect a hint of fear, my lord?”

Nyx blanches. “Oh, don’t. Don’t call me that”

Catrin angles her head. “Am I to believe the male who has spent nearly twenty years dedicating himself to learning what a good High Lord is, resents the title?”

“I resent it from my friends.”

“I’m a friend already, am I?”

“I make it a point to be friends with any shadowsingers I meet,” Nyx says smoothly.

Catrin scoffs. “And what’s in it for me? This friendship.”

And Nyx resorts to the casual arrogance he always adopts when he feels out of sorts. “You get unlimited access to my good looks.”

Catrin’s cheeks color, but her smile remains quietly amused. “And here I was thinking that no ego could surpass your father’s…”

“I am his son,” Nyx replies, picking at some invisible piece of lint on the shoulder of his jacket.

Catrin takes a sip of her wine and Nyx clears his throat, trying to dredge up more words for this stunning, witty, intimidating female.

“So Carynthian Champion. Valkyrie in training. What’s next for Catrin Berdara?”

Her eyes light up and Nyx’s heart stutters. He forces himself to blink through the haze and he makes himself listen instead of marveling at her beauty.

“I plan to apprentice for my father,” she says, lifting her chin a fraction.

Nyx hums in approval. “So you want to be a spy?”

“Spymaster,” she corrects.

Nyx’s brows raise. “Interesting. You’d steal the role from your father…”

“He would pass it to me,” Catrin corrects. “When he was ready. When I am ready.”

And he can’t help but undermine her… just a little. He sees his father and mother duel wits constantly.

“If you are ready,” he retorts.

She’s silent and Nyx feels his stomach plummet as he realizes he may have messed up.

But she squares her shoulders, and snorts. “Don’t make me laugh. I’ll be ready.”

The edge of Nyx’s lip quirks up as their silver tongues begin a dance. His quick and cunning. Hers measured and cutting.

“Are you always so braggadocios, lady?”

“Hm, is it bragging if it’s a fact, my lord?”

And he laughs again.

As they continue to exchange barbed remarks, Rhysand catches sight of them.

He notices that Nyx is wearing his father’s rakish smile, but he also recognizes another part of himself in his son’s eyes. The eyes he shares with Feyre.

Quiet fascination. Astonishment.

And the High Lord wonders to himself: Could they be…

But it’s a ridiculous thought. One born from him seeing his son again. Just because his son is enjoying himself with a female doesn’t mean they are mates.

But Rhysand feels a pair of eyes on him, and when he follows the source, he finds Azriel is looking at him.

His brother jerks his head at Nyx and Catrin, and Rhysand shrugs with a half-smile.

But Azriel doesn’t match his amusement. He regards his shadows, and his eyes flash.

Rhysand peeks inside his mind, tilting his head.

What? Rhysand asks.

Azriel replies: I’m not sure.

You don’t think…

No…

But there’s something uncertain in Azriel’s answer…

A loud snort followed by a burst of laughter, draws Rhysand’s attention back to his son.

Catrin has a hand pressed to her chest, as she snickers.

And Nyx is quietly beaming, into his wine glass.

No, Rhysand thinks. Friends.

And then he hears his mate in his mind: So were we…

It’s far too early for them to know anything. For all they know, after this night Nyx and Catrin may never speak again.

But there is something undeniably charged in the air around Nyx and Catrin. Something both ancient and new.

Part 3

[freyjas-musings]

GWYNRIEL SIMILARITIES

1. They are both extremely loyal to the people they care.

2. They are both perfectionists to the point of sometimes being unfair to themselves.

3. They are both survivors of extreme Trauma .... both of them come from real dark pasts.

4. They are both insanely competitive

5. They are both Carynthian warriors

6. They both hate to fail.

7. They are both singers.

8. They are both dealing with self worth issues.

GWYNRIEL DIFFERENCES

1. They have the whole grumpy sunshine personality dynamic which makes them balanced.

2. While one has shadows the other glows.

3. They have the priestess and the sinner dynamic going for them too ... opposites yet interesting again.

4. One is a healer the other a torturer ... again opposites ....

I do believe together they would find it in themselves to heal and believe they are worthy .... worthy of love ... worthy of happiness and worthy of a beautiful life ....

[yazthebookish]

Reasons why I think ACOSF clearly hinted at Gwyn and Azriel ending up together. I want to rewrite this to articulate my thoughts better than my previous posts and make it less "lengthy" so here goes:

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SJM made sure to let the reader know how Azriel and Gwyn are reacting to one another when they are in the same scene or mentioning little things:

This is what I picked up on while reading the first time. The text is showing me how little reactions that may seem insignificant to the reader because they are focused on Nesta and Cassian. However, there is little build-up going on for Azriel and Gwyn (e.g. Azriel giving private lessons to Gwyn).

There are symbolic connections between Azriel and Gwyn:

The ribbon. The shadows. The dagger. The singing. “You're the new ribbon Az.” is quite indicative. If she did not want to build a special bond between them, she wouldn't have created these symbolic connection because whenever the reader thinks of ribbons, singing, and shadows for example, they think of Azriel and Gwyn.

Romantic coding in the bonus chapter and ”A thing of secret lovely beauty”:

I think it was smart of SJM to start Gwyn's scene with Azriel at the peak of his rage and frustration, because it shows Gwyn being a soothing presence to him. He was withdrawn at first and she gave him an opening to leave which he didn't take. She then starts to tease him and ask him question and you get to see these little different positive reactions from him that she brings out of him (remember he was in a shitty mood). By the end of his scene with her he was feeling calm and his shadows even calmed down and were content to watch her.

And when it comes “A thing of secret, lovely beauty” the line first shows up when he opens the necklace gift for Elain and describes the ordinary necklace that only shows its true beauty when it's held to the light. The chapter ends with this very line but this time its directed at Gwyn's image. The final passage in the chapter has clear romantic coding. The spark in the chest, the image of Gwyn's smile bringing a smile to Azriel's face, him daydreaming about her while he ascends the stairs, choosing to bury the image deep in his chest where it glows quietly. SJM is directing the reader towards Gwyn as a potential love interest to Azriel. She knows that the reader would pay a close attention to Azriel and Gwyn's interactions post-Solstice when rereading the book, and clearly, there IS some development between them.

One of the things SJM enjoys writing for a romantic couple as mentioned by her is banter and challenge:

In both ACOSF and the bonus chapter, we saw Azriel and Gwyn have a flirty banter and challenge each other. This is a dynamic we have not seen between Azriel and Elain especially knowing Azriel has a vicious competitive streak, and so does Gwyn which makes them compliment one another. SJM is throwing these crumbs making the reader look forward to read more of their interactions despite it being a Nessian book. It seems like a promise of what's to come in the future, knowing that Azriel and Gwyn will definitely be in close proximity since the ending of ACOSF mentions that the Valkyries will continue training with Cassian and Azriel.

What's unique about Gwyn is we haven't seen another character be that upfront and challenging towards Azriel. She can be considered his equal in a way since she is also a Carynthian. Anything he throws at her, she would throw back. There is a power balance.

Music between souls + the song of the soul and Gwyn and Azriel being singers:

I point this out all the time. Personally, I'm 99% sure Azriel and Gwyn are mates. The musical and song references between them is not a coincidence, especially in a book where Cassian and Nesta's bond was described to be “music between souls”. The fact that Azriel's shadows danced with her breath as if they heard some “silent music”. Also, the “beautiful distant singing” Azriel heard when he left the training ring after his scene with Gwyn and his shadows singing back to it. This is possibly a strong indicator of the existence of a mating bond. The mate language is there. They are both singers so I can see Sarah use this symbolism heavily between them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

These are points I wanted to address after having so many thoughts about them. It actually made me more convinced "I already am Lol" that Azriel and Gwyn will end up together.

[nightsgazer]

Let's not forget that Gwyneth "Gwyn" Berdara is a trained warrior, a Valkyrie, a Priestess, a bookworm, a scholar, an acolyte, a book writer, a book editor, a researcher, a singer, a Carynthian-tier warrior, kinda nerdy and geeky too, a workaholic, a smartass, and a fangirl. She's also knowledgeable about a lot of historical things and information based on Merrill's researches and works which she reads, proofreads, and edits thoroughly, and that makes her a very advantageous ally in terms of both knowledge and combat.

Gwyn is many things if you really look closely on what she does in the book.

[theladyofbloodshed]

AU where we pretend ACOSF didn't happen - part eight

Taglist: @sv0430 @nehemikkele @mis-lil-red @confusedfandomslut

The impulse to run from his arms writhed in Nesta’s veins. She had exposed too much of herself. The shame branded her skin. But she felt safe in Cassian’s arms. Felt wanted. His grip on her tightened a little, sensing her desire to flee. Something restless in her settled slightly.

The searing heat of her flames was swallowed by the winter night. Her skin suddenly felt cold, her magic drained. Cassian tilted her closer to him. His own body was as hot as a furnace. A wave of calm lapped across her senses when she took in his rich, earthy scent.

‘You don’t love me,’ she said evenly. ‘You love the bond. The imaginary force that pushes you to me. You don’t know me.’

Maybe from the weary tone in her voice, the bat did not argue with her this time, just continued holding on to her, his breath a steady rhythm anchoring her.

'I know I failed Feyre in a lot of ways, but I was not the only person in that house. My father could have taught her to read. He could have sold what he whittled. Elain could have grown vegetables. We all could have found jobs. I think we were all so angry and lost. But I am the only one who has been punished for it.'

Finally, she managed to speak again. ‘Do those stars have names?’

Nesta pointed to three blazing stars clustered above a mountain peak. Despite the distance, the bright snow clustered on the sheer face shone.

‘Arktos is on the left. Oristes, the right. Carynth is the brightest one in the centre. And that mountain is Ramiel. If you touch the top during the Blood Rite, you become Carynthian.’

‘I don’t know what any of that means.’

Cassian huffed a laugh. ‘You tricked me. I’d thought you were a real Illyrian.’ A thumb traced patterns on her shoulder through her cloak. ‘The Blood Rite is where Illyrian males get to show how tough they are. They’re dumped without weapons or allies and have one week to make it to the top of Ramiel while trying to kill anyone who gets in the way. The elements and lack of food or water are the biggest dangers.’

‘And did you touch it?’

‘Yes. The three of us. Together.’ The words were said proudly. Likely the biggest achievement of his life then – maybe it still was.

‘Did you hold hands?’ Nesta couldn’t resist an opportunity to tease him. It was her way of waving the white flag.

‘Yes. And we pressed our big, hard bodies together during those cold, lonely nights. Az was always in the middle of the cuddle.’

Nesta couldn’t work out if he was teasing her in return. She could imagine it though, the three of them shivering in the cold, one of them broaching the offer of using their bodies to warm each other.

‘Whatever you’re imagining, stop it.’ The bat flicked one of her plaits.

‘You led me down that path!’

Two hours had definitely passed and there had been no sign of the shadow singer in the village. Nesta had thought she’d need him to whisk her away, but it had not been as atrocious as it could have been. Her outburst wasn’t great, but it could have been worse. She knew she was demanding, knew she was stuck in her ways, but in fairness to the bat, he had listened and followed her strict instructions.

‘I’m sorry I called you a bastard-born nobody that day in my home.’

Cassian was quiet for too long. He never struggled for words usually. The silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity. Then he snorted. ‘I am bastard-born though.’

‘But I threw it at you to insult you. The manner of your birth is inconsequential. It is what you do with your life that matters. And by the way the females here goggle at you, I suppose you’re acceptable.’

‘Was that meant to be a compliment?’ He wrapped the end of her braid around one finger and used it to brush her cheek like a paintbrush.

‘If you do not want it, I’ll take it back.’

From the shine in his eyes, Nesta knew Cassian would take whatever crumb she offered him. He would do anything for her and it was so plainly written on his face. It was a dedication she did not deserve, a love she hadn’t earned.

‘I can teach you Illyrian.’

‘You? A teacher?’

‘It’s my mother tongue,’ he shrugged nonchalantly. ‘How hard can it be?’

‘What if I’m a terrible student?’

‘What if you’re an excellent one?’ The bat countered.

Cassian leant forwards, shifting Nesta so she was sat upright on his knee. A warm hand turned her face to him. She let him dictate the situation, let herself go with the tide.

‘I missed you,’ he whispered. ‘I missed you.’

She nodded, not allowing herself to admit that she had missed him too. How much of that feeling of desire was due to the bond? How much of it was her own heart declaring that it wanted him? Cassian had vowed to defend her people to the death. Declared on that battlefield that his only regret was that they did not have time. He would have died for her. And she for him. Together.

‘Nesta.’

The deep rumble of his voice drew her back. The starlight glinted from his brown eyes. They felt like home.

Her bare thumb traced the curve of his lip. She knew that if she did this, it was an invitation to her heart. One she could not take back. His face was so close to hers. Nesta could feel the stomp of his heart as it pressed against her arm.

Nesta withdrew her hand, but his own swallowed it. He pressed her hand to his own cheek, letting his eyes flutter to a close, desperate to carve the memory into eternity.

Cassian’s face blurred into nothing as Nesta pressed her lips to his. It was gentle, offering him the chance to call a stop to it. But he kissed her back with such an intensity, she clung to his arm – the only steady thing in a dizzying world.

Insistently, his mouth parted her lips, evoking tremors through her body. Sparks of life she had denied herself for so long erupted in her veins.

She was pulled onto his lap, her knees digging into the stone, his thighs clamped between hers. Cassian’s lips trailed kissed down her neck when Nesta tipped her head back. His tongue fluttered over her pulse, claiming her. More. She needed more.

Grinding down on him, a noise of desperate longing escaped the lips that were pressed against hers.

The noise shot through her, slamming into her senses. Not here. Not like this.

Her eyes screwed shut as she drew away. ‘I have to go.’

The bat did not argue, did not try to convince her to stay, merely nodded. His breath came shakily, but if he wanted to reach for her, he had enough sense not to try.

Cassian flew her back to the edge of the village. There still had not been a sign of Azriel. It worried Nesta, but Cassian waved it away, insisting that he was more than capable of walking her the rest of the way. She relented. Though he could not see the house, when Nesta stopped in its vicinity, Cassian did too. He squinted as if he might be able to see the creamy coloured walls or the thatched roof that way.

Nesta paused. She wasn’t used to goodbyes. She was more suited to angrily storming from him than a civil farewell. The big bat watched her closely, probably thinking the same. The last parting they had involved her demanding he go home and stop following her after that terrible Solstice – and now nearly a whole year had passed.

‘Thank you for seeing me. I hope it wasn’t too torturous for you.’

Nesta inclined her head. ‘I’ll have Azriel bring you the bill when he comes to Velaris. It won’t be cheap, I’m afraid.’

‘I missed you.’

‘You already said that.’

‘Still mean it.’

The yellow glow of candles lit up Rovena’s bedroom as Nesta unlocked the front door. The remains of a fire glowed orange in the hearth in the living room where the shadow singer was sprawled on the couch asleep. A blanket had been lovingly tucked around him.

While the water in the kettle boiled, Nesta heard the boom of wings as Cassian finally departed back to Velaris. She had only planned on a cup for herself, but silently Azriel had appeared in the kitchen, making her jump a foot in the air.

‘You’re back.’

‘And you’ve been asleep.’ Nesta patted down the tuft of black hair that stuck up on the side of his head.

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to. How did it go?’ Hazel eyes narrowed. ‘He is still alive, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. We argued. And we kissed.’

A cock of his head in surprise. ‘In that order?’

‘Why are you so tired? What’s your high lord making you do?’ Nesta pressed the mug into his hands then beckoned for him to follow her into the living room.

‘Just trouble in the mortal lands taking up a lot of my time. When I’m in Velaris, I’m helping at the library.’

‘Ah yes, I can imagine a spy master’s skills are vitally important in shelving books.’

‘There’s a priestess-’

‘Go on…’ Nesta wiggled her eyebrows at him, a smile creeping onto her face.

Azriel rolled his eyes with irritation. ‘She’s researching shadow singing so I am helping her with her research.’

‘I am sure she has thoroughly examined you.’

Azriel stared at her. The weight of his gaze was heavy. ‘You and him need to accept the bond, so you’ll be locked into a frenzy and leave me alone. Stop prying. I don’t deserve this. I’ve only ever been nice to you.’

Nesta cackled. She’d never seen his composure break – and it had shattered entirely. His bronzed cheeks were now tinged with pink and his shadows danced almost in amusement.

‘Thank you for all of your help.’

Nesta had been about to graze his hand with her own but had hesitated, suddenly worried whether she should touch the scars. The split second deliberation had the shadow singer drawing his hands towards his lap, out of reach, something unreadable on his face.

‘Can’t they be healed?’

A short shake of the head. ‘Rhysand was good enough to ask Lord Thesan for assistance, but they will remain.’

‘They don’t matter,’ she said softly, reaching for one despite his discomfort. ‘It was not your fault. And if anybody judges you because of how they look, they’re not worth being in your life. You deserve to be loved.’

A small smile flickered onto the shadow singer’s lips. ‘You sound just like my mother.’

‘That’s not a bad thing.’

[azrielsbxtch]

Gwyneth Berdara....a maid.....

If e/riels are going to use it as an insult then okay...

Gwyneth Berdara is a maid who survived the bloodrite,became one of the first female Carynthians,is a warrior in her own right,a fucking talented singer and is currently living her best life with her two besties.

Oh and let’s not forget before all of this....before the training ,the library,the bloodrite and becoming a Valkyrie,Gwyneth Berdara already became a hero by sacrificing her self to save the children in Sangravah while Elain was planting roses or some bullshit....😒

And like what’s wrong with being a maid first of all. What is this classist bullshit?

Hypocrisy 💅🏾