#its: Gwyn is too fragile

[separatist-apologist]

If you're thinking about writing a post about sexual assault as it relates to the characters in your favorite piece of media and you don't have that expertise, can I suggest:

✨ shutting the fuck up✨

Now with the added benefit of NOT harming ACTUAL people to prop up your favorite character!

[scorpioriesling]

Too Hot To Handle - Episode 3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Gwyn, Elain, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, & Tamlin

Warning(s): suggestiveness… no outright smut tho

SR’s Note: So the reader & Lucien want to play by the rules… smart choice! Let’s see how they navigate their first few days being an “item”, and which strings you readers will pull next! Tags: @velarisdusk @lilah-asteria @starlightazriel @panther-girl-124

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Good morning, everyone."

You wish you could say you enjoyed the smooth voice that was pulling you from your slumber, but in all honesty, you didn't. You quite enjoyed being wrapped in the fluffy duvet, the softest pillow beneath your head, and the heat of Lucien's body pressed against your back was much more welcoming than the monotone alarm clock you were being called to instead.

On cue, a collection of groggy responses and good morning's from the group sounded, and you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as Lucien shifted behind you. It didn't take much movement to realize what was pressing against you -- much harder than the smooth muscles of his abdomen.

You turned your head, peering over your shoulder at him as his fingers gently skated across the exposed skin of your upper thigh. His eyes only opened slightly, meeting yours through sleep-ridden half-lids as a small smirk played on his lips. You only rolled your eyes, turning back over and pushing up onto your elbows. It was all you could do to ignore the impending arousal gathering in your panties, all of the delicious thoughts invading your mind first thing in the morning...

"I hope you've all slept well," she continues, going on about the day's activities and amenities we have access to. You try to pay attention, but Lucien is still laying in the same spot, his fingers tracing little circles across your skin over the covers. You try very, very hard to school your face into a neutral complexion, but its hard when such an attractive male is laying next to you, completely shirtless, illiciting such ... feelings from you.

It also doesn't help that when you attempt to focus your attention elsewhere, you notice Tamlin staring directly at you, his face a mask of cooled calm. You have to look away, too embarassed at your utter happiness that only came with causing him so much hurt.

You knew you needed to talk to him today.

"Really? That's fifteen thousand dollars down the drain now!" Cassian groans, running his fingers through his hair. The sudden shift in mood pulls you from your thoughts, and halts Lucien's idle fingers against your skin.

"I'm sorry guys, truly!" Morrigan apologizes. "But, I'm not the only guilty party here, okay. It was only one, I just couldn't help it..." She looks around, and when you glance to her bed, Helion only shrugs unashamedly.

"Well, between you're "just one", and their "just one"," Cassian jerks his thumb toward the bed holding Eris and a very bashful Elain (for once). "We lost ten thousand dollars in one night, guys! Not to mention the first five thousand from those two-" he points between you and Tamlin, and you slide your gaze to his for only a moment before looking away again. He caught it, but only looked ashamed. You and him both. "That now has us down fifteen thousand dollars. I mean, really." Cassian folds his arms over his chest, huffing as Amren rolls her eyes next to him boredly.

The room falls quiet, and Lucien sits up as he finally registers the situation and what is going on. He looks sidelong at you, the tension and awkwardness in the room felt by just about everyone as the group realizes just how fragile their actions are.

"Well," after a few minutes, Rhysand slides from his bedsheets and stands at full height. "I'm quite hungry, and Lana mentioned a few very interesting amenities we have at the villa. What do you say we not waste any more time in here then and hop to it?" He shrugs, and Feyre smiles up at him appreciatively. The genuine smile returns to your face at your new friend's joy, and you could practically kiss Rhys for his interruption of the awkward moment Cassian caused between you and Tamlin and, well, the whole group.

Well, not literally. Lana would have your head.

As others begin to file out of the bedchambers, you shift to do so as well, but Lucien gently caresses your elbow before you can fully exit the bed. You face him, his hair beautifully mussed in the morning and his soft smile sending familiar butterflies aflight in your stomach.

"Thank you, Y/N. For last night," he says softly. You smile at him, placing your hand on his.

"I'm happy with my decision," you say, and he chuckles deeply, his head dropping an inch as he shakes his head slowly. When he looks to you again, you feel as though you may need a trip to the pool to cool down the way you're melting under his gaze.

"There never was one, for me."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"I don't know how Amren puts up with him," Morrigan grumbles, popping a juicy piece of papaya into her mouth. "I mean, its like, eight in the morning for Gods sake, and he's already trying to start shit." She shakes her head, speaking as she chews the juicy fruit. You lean back on your hands, peering at her through the lenses of your sunglasses once more. You'd already finished your fruit salad and waffles from breakfast, and Feyre was spooning the last of her yogurt into her mouth and nodding as she listened along to what Mor was ranting about in the cabana as usual.

"I think-" Feyre swallows her bite. "I think, that Amren only puts up with him because she doesn't want to sleep on a couch." She shrugs, and you giggle lightly. Feyre catches your eye, chuckling with you, but Mor misses the humor and continues with her griping.

"I mean, seriously, he made the whole damn group uncomfortable, and we all just woke up! He's acting like he wouldn't bone any of us if he had the chance," she says, and you shrug in agreement.

"I can say I didn't appreciate bringing up Tamlin and I's rule break when I was literally... in a bed... with Lucien..." you say. Mor throws her arms wide, her eyebrows raising.

"Exactly! He can't act like he didn't see that man staring absolute daggers at you all morning, like, seriously -- his bed is two feet from his." She scoffs, sitting back on her lounger and shoving more fruit into her mouth. You sigh, because she was right; just another reminder of the hard conversation you knew was coming.

"So... Feyre," you look to her, hoping to change the conversation as easily as Rhys did this morning. She perks up, setting down her empty bowl and crossing her legs in her comfy chair. "I see Rhys hopped beds last night?"

She grins, her eyes crinkling behind her clear-blue sunglasses. "Yes... You were seeing correctly," she lulls, and you grin at her.

"I'm not surprised, he should've been in your bed since the first night anyways," you shrug, and she scoffs, waving her hand as she smiles.

"Oh, he'll be staying in her bed all right," Mor muses, her tone low and sultry from her laying position on the lounger across the space. She chuckles before continuing. "Especially when you show him all of that Feyre-sexiness you've been holding out on-"

"Heyyyyy Rhysand!" You greet loudly, Feyre's eyes going wide as her bed buddy approaches from behind her. She whips her head around, just in time to see Rhys take his final stride toward the group, his smile bright as he looks to each girl before his gaze settles on Feyre.

"Hello ladies," he says. Feyre looks to you once more, silently thanking you for halting Mor from continuing her embarassment.

"What are you up to?" He sits next to Feyre, and she smiles sweetly at him. He looks to the three of you kindly once more.

"Oh nothing much, the guys and I just finished working out and... I don't know, I supposed I'd see what you lovely ladies were up to?" Your nickname still rang true, Rhysand the Charmer. It was no wonder Feyre was so enraptured by him.

"Nothing really, just... hanging out. Talking," Feyre responds. He nods, looking to you and you shrug in agreement. Mor sits upright, lifting her glasses to the top of her head before glancing around the small circle.

"We were talking," she says, waving a hand to fan herself. It doesn't do much besides rattle the various golden bangles aorund her wrist. "But now we're going swimming, because it is hot as hell out here."

✧･ﾟ: *✧

Life was good in the villa for the next few days; getting to wake up with Lucien and eat every meal next to him, hang out by the pool each day, bask in the sun in your free time -- it was a nice routine you were beginning to enjoy. You didn't enjoy the increasingly difficult task of keeping your hands to yourself, but you didn't feel alone in your struggles. Eris and Elain had cost the group another five thousand by sneaking a kiss, and you could've sworn Cassian's head was going to blast off from his head like a rocket ready for take off with how much smoke was coming from his ears.

The issue you did face alone, was your guilt.

You'd been putting off your talk with Tamlin for days now, feeling so embarassed at the lack of communication before sending him away from your date that it was growing more and more difficult to face him now. Even after the fact, he only treated you with respect, you hadn't heard a word of ill-will from him and he'd only wished the best for you and Lucien.

And though you grew closer in this new relationship with Lucien, its not like you could exactly talk to him about how you were feeling.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?" Your eyes lift from the pavement before you to meet Luciens, and he gives you a thoughtful smile. You swallow, shaking your head.

"Come onnn," he brushes your chin with his thumb and forefinger lightly as he sits beside you on the outdoor couch. "I can practically see the gears turning in there, city girl."

You grin, glancing at the pavement once more before turning to face him fully. He gazes at you, listening at full attention. You are glad to have someone to talk to, really talk to, but this? Lucien isn't.. well, he isn't the same as Mor or Feyre, in other words.

"It's ... nothing, really." You begin. Lucien tuts, crossing one knee over the other and taking one of your hands in his. You look down at where his skin touches yours, wishing you weren't having this conversation right now, but rather doing... other things.

"Y/N, if we're really going to see this out," his thumb rubs over the back of your hand. "You're going to have to open up to me."

You sigh, chewing on your bottom lip lightly. After a few quiet moments, you meet his gaze.

"I just... I feel bad, the way I ended things. With... Tamlin." The muscle above his eyebrow feathers at the mention of your previous partner's name, and you grasp onto his fingers more firmly.

"It's not that I regret my decision," you rush out. "I definitely, definitely don't regret anything I did to get us where we are now," you smile softly, and he relaxes a bit. "But, that doesn't stop me from feeling bad for how I treated him in the process." You finish. Lucien nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He turns his head, looking out at the sunset across the sea for a long moment, his thumb running over his bottom lip.

When he finally turns back to you, he catches you biting on your lip again in anticipation.

"Y/N, I think that talking things out with Tamlin and offering closure is really kind of you to do," he says calmly. He pulls you closer by your intertwined hand, pulling you to sit directly on his lap as he uncrosses his knee to hold you straight on top of him. HIs hands brace your waist, more comforting and protective than the ones you allowed to hold you before.

"And... I think your actions speak volumes to the kind of person you are, that you care about others and their feelings. It shows me a lot about you," he pulls you close, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You wish you weren't, you really wish you weren't, but you were so, so needy for this man.

"...and why I like you more and more every day I get to know you better." You heart swells at his words, and you laugh lightly, pressing your forehead against his. You thank the Mother that no one else is out here, allowing you this rare intimate moment with your rather new love interest.

His deft fingers continue to caress your jaw, your mouths only inches from eachother.

"Lucien... I really want to kiss you," you admit.

He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as the setting sun illuminates every hue in his multicolored irises.

"I'd be lying if I said I cared about the prize money more than kissing you right now too," he says, and you blush. “And those perfect teeth biting those gorgeous lips don’t help…”

He gently pulls back, and you frown slightly, grasping the collar of his white collared shirt to pull him close again.

"But, I can't do that to you right now sticky fingers," he says, he hands moving to your waist once more, and though you appreciate his sentiment, you sigh.

"Because I know you have something quite important to accomplish tonight, and I won’t be a distraction from that."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟﾟ: *

The sun is almost below the horizon when you find him alone again by the shore. The oranges and pinks of the evening glow cast a lovely shine across the wet sand, the tide stretching all the way up to where he sits back, leeaning against relaxed hands.

"Alone again?"

He doesn't turn at the sound of your voice, he just continues to stare out at the crashing waves. You step lightly toward him, your toes digging into the soft sand until your stood right beside his seated form.

"Perhaps." He says, the deja vu uncanny as he doesn't lift his gaze to meet yours. You don't need to ask; you already know. You sit, tucking the skirt of your beach dress beneath you as you sigh beside him.

"Do you want to be?" You ask it anyway.

He turns then, looking to you. You're not sure what he'll say. He knows now it's not him you want, but hurting him wasn't what you wanted either.

He looses a breath, looking directly into your eyes. "No, Y/N. I don't want to be alone." You stare, unsure where to go with this. You don't know what to say, you... you don't know how to make it all right.

"I'm... Tamlin, I'm really sorry I can't give you what you need," you say. He nods, turning to face the ocean again.

"You don't need to apologize for having feelings, Y/N." He says. You sigh, wringing your hands anxiously.

"I just mean, I know, that the dinner didn't go how you thought, and... it wasn't right of me to just throw you out like that, without at least talking to you about it. And, now taking so long to talk after it all happened," you ramble. His gaze slides to you again, and he smiles softly.

"I was never angry with you, Y/N," he says calmly. You nod, feeling like a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders. "I truly am glad you're finding what you came here for; that's why we're all here, isn't it?" He says, his eyes settling on you for just a moment more as a wave crashes against the surf in the distance. You smile at him, the feeling of closure and what feels like understanding between you two settling the nerves you'd been dealing with all week.

"Well then, I hope you find someone who wants to be alone on the beach with you too, Tamlin. I know you will."

✧･ﾟ: *✧ *

"Girl -- where the hell have you been?" Mor dashes over to you, giving you a once-over as you return from the beach. Tamlin follows a few feet behind, and she gives you a confused look before shaking it off.

"Actually, nevermind, you can tell me later -- Lana called everyone to the meeting for a firepit," she says quickly. Feyre approaches, out of breath, and leans against her hands braced on her knees.

"You. Mean. Firepit.... for a. Meeting." She says between breaths. You look between the two, and Mor grabs the two of you by the elbows before rushing toward the group of males and females alike gathered outside around the large pit of burning coals.

"I had no idea there was an emergency," you say. Mor squeezes between Emerie and Helion, grabbing her half-drank daquiri from Helion's now empty hand.

"Not necessarily an emergency," Tarquin reasons from your right. You stride through the group, finding Lucien near the end of one of the couches and you take a seat on his knee. You relish in his warm embrace, subtly catching Tamlin's approach out of the corner of your eye.

"How did it go?" Lucien whispers, his breath tickling your neck. You giggle, and he chuckles, his lips ghosting over your sensitive skin. Right on time -- the cone sitting on the edge of the stone pit lights up before you can answer.

"Hello, everyone." You give Lucien a subtle look.

"Hello Lana."

“We’ll talk later,” you whisper to him.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here."

The group falls silent as everyone looks to one another, surely trying to fish out if anyone else has broken any more rules.

“I wish we could do more than talk…” Lucien whispers back, and you reposition his frisky hand to the top of your knee, silently chastising him. He all but winks at you.

“Since you’re all here to form true connections and learn the abilities to create proper bonds with one another,” she continues. “I’ve decided to put the first round of couples to the test to see which pairings can withstand a hiccup, as you might being in a real relationship in the outside world.”

A few murmurs from the group pass, and eyes shift between Feyre and Rhysand, Mor and Helion, Eris and Elain, and you and Lucien. Your worried gaze finds his, but he gives your knee a reassuring pat.

“As a gift to those who are unpaired, and a trial for one of those already in a relationship— I’ve decided to introduce a new member to the retreat.”

A few gasps and whispers come from around you, and Cassian claps loudly. You can’t help but raise your eyebrows, noticing the squeeze of Lucien’s fingers on your kneecap.

“Here’s the catch; this new member was asked which person who’s already coupled up that they would prefer best to share a date with. The person of their choosing will attend the date with this new member, and will be allowed to break any rule put in place with no fear of loosing any money for the group.”

“Oh, SHIT!” Tarquin whoops, and Mor raises an eyebrow. You glance worriedly at Feyre, who meets your gaze with the same expression. You’re sure, she has to be thinking the same things you are right now. What if it’s a female and she’s gorgeous? What if she chooses Lucien? What if he is absolutely smitten by her and breaks any and every rule — he’d simply leave you behind for that matter!

Or… what if it’s a guy?

No way. There’s no way. Lana couldn’t find someone better than Lucien. Even so, what you had with Lucien was strong… you wouldn’t risk that just for some dick on a first date. I mean, come on.

You likely wouldn’t be picked anyway. Morrigan is in the running, for Gods sakes. She’s for sure getting picked if the new member is a male. As for a female… tough choice. All the males here are attractive, what is her type?

Hopefully not charming, sweet, gorgeously tanned red heads.

“At the end of the date, you may return to your original partner, or come back with a brand new one. This is a simple test of trust, and relationship building.” Your thoughts fade as your attention shifts to Lana’s voice again.

“This date will take place tomorrow, so get excited — this new arrival…”

Every member of the group is practically on the edge of their seat, Lucien’s hands gripping your knee and waist tight with anticipation. You cling to him, fearing the absolute worst. Please, please don’t choose Lucien…

“…has chosen to go on a date…”

Feyre’s eyes meet yours once more, worry cast over her features mirroring the expression you’re sure you currently project.

“…with…”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

[fairydustblossom]

losing control {part 3}

azriel x reader

summary: you and azriel have been best friends for decades. giving romance a chance takes some time to figure out.

category: angst, slow-burn, friends-to-lovers (kinda)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: nudity

notes: yayy here’s part three! FINALLY i’m so sorry for the wait life got super busy,,, but grab your popcorn and get comfy cause this got angsty and dramatic real quick. let me know what you think ;) hope y’all enjoy!

{part 1} | {part 2} | {part 4} | {part 5}

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Later that night, naked limbs tangled together and shadows settled around you both, you felt calm, sated, and full again. Your chest was pressed up against Azriel’s, your body laying half on top of his, and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. One of his arms was wrapped around you, his hand resting in the intersection of your lower back, hip, and ass. His other hand was playing with the hand that was resting on his chest. Playing with the ring on your thumb and every few minutes he would give you a kiss, alternating between hand, forehead, and lips. 

Once your breaths evened out, falling into rhythm with one another, you heard a sigh come out of him. Azriel was fighting an internal battle on whether to bring up his remaining concerns from earlier. It seemed like the Gwyn situation had been worked through, and he felt reassured of your feelings for him, but he still felt like you had been holding back. You had clearly been upset about something other than Gwyn, he didn’t need his spymaster abilities to figure that out. He knew you. Could read the look in your eyes, your facial expressions, your body language. He was sure of it but he did not want to break the, what felt like, fragile peace that had settled around you. 

You lifted your head and stared at him. Noticing that he was thinking about something, on the verge of speaking. You waited and when nothing came from him you asked, “What's wrong?” 

A few more seconds of silence before he pulled your head back down to lay on him, tangling his hand in your hair. He sighed again before saying in a soft, low voice, “I still feel like you’re holding something back... what happened with Gwyn was this morning... and I think you've been avoiding me since yesterday.. Cassian said you skipped training too, which you never do… I know you said we are okay… but you weren't okay earlier.” 

The vulnerability in his voice made your resolve crumble within seconds. You always felt like you could tell Azriel everything, why would this be any different? You took a deep breath in to prepare yourself. You were ready to tell him what you wanted out of your relationship. If he didn’t want the same… well… you just didn’t know what you would do.

To avoid any form of eye contact, you scooted further into his neck and tightened your hold on him. “I guess… I guess I haven’t been okay.” His body tensed up and his grip on your waist tightened, remaining silent to give you the time needed to prepare your words.  

You were finding it hard to continue voicing your feelings. You knew Azriel would feel hurt, and maybe a little scared, but you needed to be honest. You just hoped he didn’t shut you out.

“I think I need more.” Azriel pulled away to look down at your face with furrowed brows.

“What do you mean you need more?” He asked, his voice already losing its softness reserved for you and being replaced with the hardness associated with the shadowsinger.

His tone made you feel slightly panicked. You were struggling with expressing yourself and already you felt that it was coming out wrong.

“That came out wrong,” you quickly replied, skepticism filling his eyes. “I mean I just need more from us.”

At that, he sat up putting distance between the two of you. You felt exposed as his shadows left your naked body and went over to their master. Buzzing around him and starting to hide him from you, his stony face the only part of him you could see clearly. 

“Y/N,” he said “What. does. that. mean?” 

Azriel felt sick once again. He felt fear running through his body, an icy feeling spreading. What did you mean by that? Earlier you had reassured him that everything was okay and now you wanted, no, needed more. Were you bored? Was he not enough anymore? How could you even say that after the night you just had. He knew he didn’t deserve you, and had battled a long time with that thought, but he had convinced himself he could be enough for you. He felt like a dagger had pierced his heart, a rushing noise filling his ears. Internally, he prayed to the gods that you weren’t about to end the two of you, but worked to hide every emotion on his face, falling back to his impenetrable spymaster seriousness.

He could read the panic in your eyes. Eyes wide, mouth tightly shut as you tried breathing deeply through your nose, cheeks tinted, hair disheveled. Gods, every muscle in his body itched, begged him to move closer to you, to wrap you up in his arms and caress you until you calmed down again. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. 

“I don’t want to be a secret anymore Az '' you finally said gaze drifting down to your hands. “It’s  hard just standing there when others are flirting with you, it’s hard feeling like I’m hiding such a big part of my life from our friends, our family,  it's hard to pretend we aren’t together when all I want is for everyone to know.” 

His body relaxed slightly at your admission but his unease did not fully subside.

He stayed silent, unable to think of what to say. He thought you wanted the same thing he did. He wasn’t ready to share your relationship with everyone else. He didn’t fully have an answer as to why, but he felt that things would change if everyone knew. You could be used against him, he was a hated male in many lands after all. Your friends would tease the both of you. Maybe they would try convincing you of why dating him was a bad idea. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t even know how to be in a proper relationship, not after spending all his life pinning after the wrong people. The only real romantic connections he had ever shared had been secret affairs that ended before they could even properly begin. Nothing had ever blossomed the way your romance had. 

The secrecy of your relationship was also a way to protect himself. He didn’t think he could survive a break up after having told all your friends. He doesn’t know how he would be able to carry on like normal after having lost the best thing to have ever happened to him in his 500 years. Keeping your relationship secret helped him keep these two realities separate. If you were to end, he could pretend nothing from his professional or social life had truly changed. 

Goosebumps rose along your arms at his silence. You had been scared of Azriel’s reaction, but  part of you didn’t really believe that he would reject the idea. You believed he cared for you and he reassured you with his actions everyday. So why wasn’t he responding? Did he truly not want to publicly be associated with you in a romantic way? 

“Azriel?” you asked in an attempt to get an answer out of him. His unrelenting stare making you feel small and vulnerable. You wrapped your arms around yourself to cover your bare body from him. 

A muscle in his jaw moved before he said “I don’t want that.” 

All the different scenarios of how wrong it could go were consuming his thoughts, making him unaware of the cold and distant way in which he had just spoken to you.

Your eyes welled up with tears. “But why? Why is it so bad for our friends to know? Why don’t you want to claim me the way I want to claim you?” You were becoming more agitated with every question, his refusal to meet your eyes now as he stared at the wall behind you filling you with pain and anger.

“I’m not ready for that yet” Azriel replied, hoping that would be enough of an answer for you to understand. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation with you yet. Of course, he wanted everyone to know you were his, and only his. He didn’t enjoy watching males around Velaris trying to catch your attention, but he cherished the bubble of love and happiness you were in right now. He didn’t mind putting up with other males if it meant keeping your relationship just as it was. 

“Is that all you can really say, Az?” you asked, your voice sounding weak to your ears as you tried to keep the tremble out of it.

“It should be enough of an answer” his response came with no hesitation.

The speed of his answer made the warmth that had settled around you both from earlier fully disappeared. Cold seeped into your body but before it could settle in you, you shot up out of bed, glaring at Azriel . How dare he treat you with such little regard after asking you to be honest.

“It’s not, Azriel. Not for me. Not anymore” you spat out, hoping he would put up a fight, give you a real reason as to why you were hiding from everyone. The silence you were met with made the tightness around your throat worsen. The realization that Azriel wasn’t fighting for you, or even attempting to explain himself left you feeling numb. You could see him, feel him, retreating from you. Part of you wanted to take it back, soothe him, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to. You would not let any male treat you less than what you deserved. 

Azriel calmly stood up, back facing you, wings flaring in all their majesty, shadows swarming around him to cover his exposed body. He turned his head slightly to look at you.

“Then you want more than I can give you” he murmured before winnowing away. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back in his room, Azriels knees finally gave out. What the fuck had he just done? He couldn’t believe how he had treated you. He felt like a coward. Had he just ended things? How had he manage to fuck this up. How did his fear of losing you turn into a reality?

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry, angry tears welling in his eyes. He wanted to be enough for you. Gods, he wanted that more than anything but he knew you deserved better and he couldn’t help but think that this was for the best. 

He bit his inner cheeks to keep his emotions in check. To feel any other pain than the one he felt in his chest right now. He let his shadows comfort him as he forced himself to go numb, to block all his emotions. He carried himself over to bed, and fell asleep into a deep slumber, not wanting to feel or think anymore. 

taglist: @acotarxx @fall-myriad @moonlwghts @fictionalmenloversblog@kennedy-brooke@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @rebs2210

[aldbooks]

Random little scene that popped in my head this morning…

—-

Gwyn sighed as she gave into the urge. The faint tugging around her heart that inevitably drew her towards to small chest that sat atop the corner of her dresser.

It had sat there since she first arrived at the library, a fine layer of dust covering its surface, mostly undisturbed but for a set of fingerprints on either side of lid from the handful of times she’d given in to that urge to break her own heart when she opened it and stared at the contents inside.

Taking a fortifying breath, she lifted the lid once more and stared down at the two objects inside: a small, velvet box, and a brilliant blue stone, still attached to the headpiece that had once adorned her beloved sister’s forehead. For over two years, the stone had been the sole occupant of the chest, until the box had been left for her anonymously last Solstice, with a small note in Clotho’s handwriting that simply said “from a friend.”

At first, she’d stared down at the tiny necklace nestled inside in bewilderment. A stained glass rose, delicate and beautiful, and she’d wondered who might have gotten her such a gift. To her knowledge, no one she knew had the means to purchase such an expensive gift. Also, anyone who knew her well, knew that she preferred lilies to roses…

Then she had lifted the thin chain from the box and watched in wonder as the small charm caught the light, reflecting a dazzling array of light and it became clear that someone had put a lot of thought into the gift and she’d been awed at the sheer beauty of it, even if she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to wear it.

A little deductive reasoning, and perhaps a bit of wishful thinking, had brought her to the rather insane conclusion that the only person who could have possibly left the gift for her was the Shadowsinger, Azriel, with whom she’d had a rather- interesting interaction with the night before the gift had been delivered.

It seemed to make as much sense as any other theory, and yet, at the same time, seemed to make no sense at all. Why would he ever give her such a thing? Let alone put in the time, money, and effort to select such a gift for her? They had barely broached the surface of a friendship at the time, no matter how close they’d grown in the intervening months. A year ago, they’d been nothing more than teacher and apprentice. Strangers with a rather traumatic shared history neither had dared to acknowledge. Even now, after all the healing she done and the progress she had made, even with as far as their friendship had progressed, that night was perhaps the one subject they had not approached. Though it hung between them both during every interaction like a silent, unseen ghost.

She’d never worn the necklace, despite the handful of times she’d taken it out to admire it, staring at it for hours as she watched the light dance from the gently spinning pendant. It was too beautiful, too precious, and seemed to represent something so fragile, she’d been terrified to allow herself to imagine it real. Though her feelings certainly were.

She’d dreamt of the strange, fierce male who’d rescued her nearly every night since she’d first seen him. Had seen those haunted golden green eyes in her dreams. Could swear she still smelled his scent on the dark cloak that hung at the back of her closet, despite the fact that it had long faded. As absurd as it was, particularly given the circumstances of their meeting, she had felt an instant connection to him the moment their eyes locked and it had stayed with her ever since.

Then, he’d walked into the training ring that morning and she felt that phantom thread between them flare to life again and knew she hadn’t imagined it. Hadn’t imagined him.

The Shadowsinger had been a source of fascination for her from that moment on, even when he frustrated her to verge of tears with his cocky smiles and teasing. He pushed her to work harder, to be a better version of herself until she barely recognized the girl she’d once been. Timid and shy and blissfully ignorant of the horrors this world could offer to those without the means to protect themselves. He’d offered her safety and security and a shred of dignity she’d thought lost forever in those brief moments when they’d first encountered one another, and she was now determined to offer that same kindness to the other priestesses who deserved that peace of mind every bit as much as she.

She didn’t often let herself indulge in her fantasies of the darkly charming male who seemed to be a mystery to everyone but her, but sometimes she couldn’t quite help but allow that quiet flicker of hope to bloom just a little brighter.

Carefully avoiding the blue stone that tore open the fissure in her chest where her sister had once been every time she looked at it, Gwyn gently flipped open the little velvet box and lifted out the necklace, allowing it to dangle in front of her face. As she watched, the charm rotated, the flickering candlelight catching the on the colored panes of glass, sending shimmering spots of green and pink light dancing across her skin.

She’d never worn the thing, almost afraid of what it might mean if she did. What she might be accepting if he saw her wearing it. And in any case, she often managed to convince herself that it wasn’t actually from him, that perhaps it had been given to her by mistake. After all, why would he give her something so beautiful?

Surely not because he held any sort of tender feeling for her. At least not beyond the warm regards of friendship. They’d barely known each other when she’d received it, and no matter how many restless nights they’d shared on that rooftop, talking until the early fingers of dawning light touched the sky, there was nothing more between them than that. Even if she wished it otherwise.

Why would he want her? The quiet, damaged priestess who’d been too scared to leave the library (with the brief exception of attending her sisters mating ceremony) for three years? Why, when someone as handsome, and charming, and well respected as he was, could likely have any female he wanted, choose someone like her?

But he’d asked.

It still seemed unreal to her as she thought back over the conversation they’d just had a few moments ago, sitting in their usual spot on the roof, when he’d asked her to attend a small gathering with his family and friends at the High Lord and Lady’s residence in the city. She’d almost said no, reflexively, out of habit, and then she’d seen the hopeful look in his eye and found herself saying yes.

Surely she was reading more into it than was really there. It had been almost an entire year, to the day, since he’d given her that necklace- if in fact it had been him who’d given it- that he must have forgotten about it entirely by now.

Still, she carefully laid the necklace out on her dresser, intending to wear it the following evening as she moved to her closet and sorted through her meager possessions for a suitable dress.

—-

Azriel had in fact forgotten all about the damned necklace until Gwyn had removed her cloak when they’d arrived at Rhys and Feyre’s house and had seen it hanging around her throat.

Everything around him seem to come to a screeching halt as he laid eyes on it, the delicate charm lying against her pale skin, the colors matching well to the soft green dress she wore, one he’d been surprised to see she’d owned, having only ever seen her in her priestess robes or leathers before. After he’d given her the invitation to accompany him tonight, almost without thought, he’d had a brief moment of panic, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable around his well dressed friends and had almost asked Nesta if she might lend Gwyn one of her own gowns to wear before realizing the two females were of entirely different build. He knew enough about feminine fashions to know that would not work. But then, he’d decided he’d also rather not face the eldest Archeron’s scrutiny as she questioned why, in fact, her friend was in need of a dress and had said nothing.

Now, he stood frozen in the foyer as he watched Nesta hug her friend in delight, not even seeming to notice they had arrived together, as she led her into the living room with everyone else. Gwyn threw a nervous smile at him over her shoulder and, just like that, his feet were moving as he helplessly followed behind them.

It was a phenomenon he’d never quite been able to explain, the way he found himself constantly seeking out this female, drawn to her very presence like a moth to a flame. The times he’d found himself wandering halfmindedly into whatever room she was occupying, or even subconsciously seeking the gentle comfort she offered when he was feeling unsettled. Even if she was not aware of it herself.

He’d forgotten all about that necklace though, damn him and his foolish pride. Why hadn’t he just returned it to the shop? If he had, he might not now find himself in this situation, that felt like some kind of fever dream as he caught sight of Elain, who was sitting across the room, offering him a timid smile before doing a double take at her sister’s friend.

He saw the moment she registered the necklace Gwyn wore, recognized it as the one he’d given her- and she’d returned- a year ago. They had never spoken of that night. Had barely interacted at all since then, a stifling sort of awkwardness stretching between them whenever they were in the same room. The intense attraction and desire he’d once felt for her had faded into a faint flicker as he remembered his brother’s words and the disappointed look on Elain’s face as he said those four stupid words. “This was a mistake”

He knew they’d hurt her, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to take them back, not when every time he looked at her, he’d recalled Rhysand’s words, the anger and authority he so rarely displayed that Azriel had- after a fair bit of sulking- taken seriously. He’d not touched Elain since that night, had not even tried, and she’d kept her distance just as well. He’d thought maybe she’d moved on, even if she still did not offer her mate anything more than polite, distant smiles.

But now, he could see the way she flinched and quickly turned away from the sight of that cursed necklace on another female’s neck. He knew how it would look to her. A clear transference of his affections to another, even if it were not true.

Isn’t it? His shadows whispered. You care for the pretty Valkyrie.

That is not the same, he responded as he glanced around, grateful no one had noticed Elain’s change in mood. Gwyn is-

Just then, he turned back to the Valkyrie in question. She was engaged in conversation with Nesta and Feyre, though her gaze kept darting across the room… towards Elain. As he looked closer, he saw the faint tinge of red along her cheeks and the tips of her ears. The slight sheen in her eyes and the tightness of her smile.

And he saw her reach up to touch the necklace hanging from her neck.

Azriel’s heart fell to the floor.

—-

… sorry not sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

[satoshi-mochida]

Dark Deity II announced for PC

Gematsu Source

Publisher Freedom Games and developer Sword and Axe have announced Dark Deity II, the sequel to the 2021-released strategy RPG. It is in development for PC (Steam, Epic Games Store, GOG). A release date was not announced.

Here is an overview of the game, via its Steam page:

About

Dark Deity is back! A quarter of a century has passed, as Irving and the Eternal Order carefully rebuilt Verroa to protect it against a future war. Their efforts will be put to the test far too soon as a new threat looms on the horizon. The neighboring Holy Asverellian Empire needs new lands to grow, and the fractious, fragile Verroa seems ripe for the taking. All that stands in its way is the Order and twenty scrappy heroes-to-be.

Take command of the Eternal Delegation, led by Irving’s descendants. Gwyn and Riordian will have to navigate the treacherous politics of Verroa, and weave a web of alliances to turn the tide of the coming war. Your decisions will determine the shape of these alliances and define your army. Coupled with the help of a giant pool of customizations, no two playthroughs will ever feel the same.

Put simply, Dark Deity II is about playing your way, all the way.

Strategize and Prevail

Turn-based tactical combat is at the heart of Dark Deity II. Your 20 heroes have access to 45 branching classes, each with its own powerful abilities, passive effects, and its own tactical niche…

…that’s until you start experimenting with skills, abilities, and gear that can completely change the way a unit performs in the field and upend your tactics in a good way..

Heroes will bond as they fight seemingly impossible odds. Hardship forges the strongest bonds… but can also destroy friendships and wreak havoc. Will you be able to walk the line between the two?

Make Your Decisions Wisely

A desperate defense against an overwhelming foe. A land in the grasp of war fever, panic, and factional strife. A traitor around every corner. To have a chance at winning the war, you’ll need to make some difficult choices.

Verroa is torn apart by factions, and many of these factions are fractured in turn. Decide who to support and who to throw to the wolves – but weigh each option carefully. After all, your choices may drastically change the coming battles…

Every choice can fundamentally change the way you play the game. No two playthroughs are the same and what goes right in one game can go terribly wrong in the other.

Twist the Threads of Destiny

No playthroughs are going to be the same, but you can push Dark Deity II even further. Inspired by roguelites, we created the Twisted Destiny mode, allowing you to play through a shortened version of the campaign, featuring a randomized team on every playthrough, a host of new levels and modified existing ones, and unlock rewards for future playthroughs – which can completely change the way you play them!

Watch the announcement trailer and developer diary below.

Announce Trailer

Developer Feature: What To Expect

[hxneyhxrts]

Rain Soaked || Jake “Hangman” Seresin (part 1)

Sequel to Sun Bleached

note: finally. i missed you guys. please note, i’m restarting the taglist because i don’t want to be annoying and tag people in a new work if they haven’t asked, so if you want to continue your tag, just let me know :) but i love you guys, and i’m VERY excited for the direction this is going it. once again, moodboard credit to the insanely incredible @newlibrary who nailed the vibe of this without ever hearing a plot. genius

warnings: explicit language, mentions of sex, angst, slow because it’s the beginning ya know

Bags

They had six glorious months together.

Six months of recovery and laughter, full and drunk on each other and their company. Six months without any worries and a much needed reprieve from life-altering missions.

Month three is when the tide started to turn a bit.

Not in a major way, but enough to stir the safe haven they had created. Alec was given an assignment a few states away, one he had to report to almost immediately. Something to do with weapons systems and development and higher-ups wanting to pick his brain on a few things and test drive new tech they had come up with.

A fantastic mission for someone still relatively fresh out of Top Gun.

A mission he didn’t need Gwyn for.

She had cried every single day between him telling her and the day she sent him off with an airtight hug and choked goodbye. He promised her he would text and call and come back to her just as soon as they would let him.

That had been the first strike against her fragile headspace, the first notice that the contentedness she had created was not as impenetrable as she thought.

The second had been the deployments.

Phoenix had gone first, her and Bob getting whisked away overseas for something she didn’t offer specifics on, then Coyote and Payback. Gwyn had held her breath for when they would inevitably call her away for something. Or Jake.

She hoped she wasn’t the first one to go.

Jake had kept up his same charm and unyielding sense of adoration for her all throughout, even when most of her nights had been dedicated to crying over Alec’s departure.

Some semblance of normalcy returned when she had been approached about staying on Miramar for work, her first assignment since the mission that put her in the hospital, and a fantastic offer at that. She jumped at the chance, glad to stay out and surround herself with Jake.

But then Jake was called away. And the end had begun.

Some position overseas that someone higher up in the food chain than she had decided Jake was perfect for, and shipped him off without so much as two days notice. The goodbye had been rushed, frantic, passionate, and sorrowful, but she knew he’d return and they’d pick right up where they left off.

She still found it harder to lose herself in his touch and caresses that night, though.

The veneer she had scrubbed over their life together was cracking whether she liked it or not, no matter how much Jake assured her he’d visit and call all the time. It was foolish not to consider that they were adults with demanding jobs and that she wouldn’t be able to hold them this close forever, she supposed. But God, how wonderful it felt to be foolish.

Jake’s moving day had come far too quickly. Gwyn had soaked up every minute, hour, moment she had with him. Every box he had her label “donate” or “keep”, every run to the store to buy more tape, every late night beer and slow dance in the kitchen that felt foreign in its emptiness, every small thing she could hold close to her when she found herself lying awake at night.

His departure still came too quickly.

She had driven him to the airport, despite the crack in her heart when the exit creeped up on her while Jake hummed along to a radio station he had chosen, something that played all those old classic rock songs he loved. She had followed him as far as she could, even lingering to make sure he made it through security okay before he turned with one last wave and left for his next grand adventure.

She listened to that radio station on the way home.

And hadn’t switched it since.

True to his word, Jake called or texted at every opportune moment, though they didn’t talk nearly as much as she would have liked. And they physically saw each other even less.

Most of their time together when Jake would fly home (because he was home when he was with her as far as she was concerned) was spent in a mess of limbs and mouths and eager kisses she could never fully throw herself into knowing she’d be driving him back to the airport listening to the same stupid radio station come morning.

Still, it was Jake. And that’s all she wanted.

All she needed.

Alec had occupied her phone when Jake was busy saving the world or whatever they decided they needed him for. Her best friend had spent a considerable amount of time listening to her grumbles and heartaches, always up for a light joke or advice that seemed to soothe the ache. At least a little bit.

An offer to instruct at Top Gun came only four weeks after Jake’s deployment. An offer she took without hesitation.

She’d stay right there, content to wait for him to come back around to her. A pathetic caricature of the life she had envisioned for herself, but one she figured she could learn to love. Because she missed them, she missed all of them. Loneliness was a miserable companion, one she had more often than not found herself inviting to bed when no one seemed available to answer her texts.

Work piled up quickly, a welcomed distraction from her constant pacing and checking her phone calendar to see when Jake would be flying in next or when Alec would have a day off to video call.

And before she knew it, she was back into her routine of focusing on being better, better than they expected of her. If her counterparts were good, she would be great. Had to be. Her instruction style reflected that, and most of her students had surpassed previous Top Gun candidates' qualifications or performances within months of training under her.

She could throw herself into this. Get lost in being the best and not think about how quiet and empty her home felt when she returned back to it after a long day of flying. Or how she sometimes thought about sleeping in one of the dormitories on base just to avoid that heavy quiet altogether.

But nothing could prevent the downfall of her relationship.

Jake’s texts had started slowing down. So had his calls. Then they were maybe sending each other a good morning text once every few days. He was busy, and she knew that, but it stung her no less that he swam through her every thought and he couldn’t bother to spare a few precious minutes to send her a stupid message. Actual visits were rare and distant, no longer passionate or intense, but rather a weird kind of awkward she didn’t think they were capable of. She had become clumsy around him, completely out of touch and separated from him despite everything she tried to rekindle the scraps of what they had.

Jake just didn’t look at her the way he did. His eyes no longer sparkled when she ribbed at him, and he always seemed to be checked out when she would talk about her day or the weather or any subject just to fill the silence. Their time grew shorter, Jake always formulating some excuse to jet back to his place overseas sooner than anticipated. Their relationship spiraled into the poster child of unhappiness and Gwyn could only watch as a bystander in the whole ordeal.

So when the text from Jake finally came through, she wished she could say she was surprised.

This isn’t working anymore. I’m sorry.

She had stared at her phone for what felt like hours, small tears pooling at her cheeks as she read and reread it a million times.

So that was it.

Everything she had wanted and tortured herself for, done in six words.

Six.

Every Sunday spent trying out new recipes they found, every walk through the park with joined hands that felt too clammy to hold but wonderful to feel nonetheless, every late night spent tangled in sheets talking about what might be some day and whispers of “I think I might just make you my wife”.

Done.

They’d never have that again. She would never have that again.

Gwyn wasn’t angry. She wasn’t surprised. She didn’t even know if she was sad.

She was a million things. Disappointed. Vacant. Understanding. Confused.

She wished it could be different. She wished she knew why things had fallen apart, but could accept that they had. At least she had seen it coming, could steel herself against the wave of it before it came crashing down around her.

The quiet that greeted her when she came home now was hollow, like all the warmth within the four walls had left along with him.

Never to return.

Some nights all she could do was weep, fingers curling in the cotton of her blankets as she cried herself into a migraine. Some nights she managed to tumble into bed and fall asleep before those thoughts could even begin. Some nights she was able to answer Alec’s incessant calls and let him coo over her like a lifeline.

Some nights, like tonight, she was too restless to sleep and too worn out to mull over what was and what could’ve been.

It was a Saturday night, warm and balmy enough for her to open the kitchen windows as she floated through, opening cabinets to track down whatever she needed to make cookies.

Her dad had always told her baking fixes the soul, and she prayed he was right. Seven months had passed since that text she never answered had lit up her phone screen and crushed a little part of her. Seven months was way too long to wallow in heartache, and she knew that. She had pushed herself into going out every once in a while, and some days she didn’t think about Jake at all. Some days she was just Gwyn, just a girl with a love for aviation and a goofy grin her fellow instructors sometimes teased her for.

But some days she just couldn’t shake the feel of him on her skin.

Seven months. Her twenty-second birthday had come and gone. Alec had called her four times now to tell her his work was being extended and that he’d be staying away for a few more months. She had been home to see her siblings more than she could count. She had even made new friends and companions in that time.

Seven months.

And still, he was there.

Just at the fringe of her mind now, no longer as centered as he had been in those early days, but still there.

So she whisked together eggs and melted butter while her tired eyes roamed over a tea-stained page in an old cookbook she had recovered from the back of her kitchen drawers. Music drifted throughout the room, laying on the soft breeze and filling her ears.

”Can you see me? I’m waiting for the right time.”

Letters blurred together as her thoughts slipped back to him for what felt like the hundredth time.

What was he doing? Was he thinking of her while doing it? Did he think of her at all?

”I can’t read you, but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Did he still have her number? Did he ever think about texting her the way she often found herself doing? Did he ever watch a romantic movie and compare it to what they had?

”Can you see me using everything to hold back?”

Did he ever think about how they might have really gotten married one day, the way he used to swear they would? Did he picture their life together?

”I guess this could be worst, walking out the door with your bags.”

She switched the radio off with a bit more force than necessary.

Because what did she gain by thinking these things? What could she possibly find in these traitorous thoughts? Surely not closure, or anything close to it.

But it felt so nice to think about the white picket fantasy they had dreamed up together. And she had allowed herself that dream once. But not anymore. Not when seven months and a birthday had passed and she had other things to do, other things to pour herself into.

Other things like the call she had received the morning before.

She had just made it on to base and into her office when the admiral swung by to let her know to expect a call. The ringing had started about fifteen minutes later.

Some higher up who didn’t bother to properly introduce himself filled her in on the details. She was being called in for a detachment he couldn’t really disclose over the phone, and she’d be expected to report to the airport come Monday morning.

Whatever it was, it was a big deal, something any one of her coworkers would kill to have a piece of. And it was hers.

So she’d take some time away from Top Gun and get back to flying again, and she would still be the best there, and then she’d come back and do it all over again.

Time was split between ‘Jake’ and ‘After Jake’. And everything in the ‘After’ laid itself at her feet for the taking, opportunities thrown at her wherever she looked.

And none of it mattered.

None of it mattered if she couldn’t share it with him.

She would call Alec and share the news eventually, when she knew the parameters and how much she could say. But it wouldn’t be the same.

So when she had found herself on the precipice of tears for the first time in months, she had thrown the sheets from her body and stomped into the kitchen to track down something to make.

Traces of what he had done to her spread throughout her life, little dents in her otherwise stable day-to-day. Small things, unnoticeable to anyone else but her. Like the blank space on her photo wall where she once had a picture of their beach trip. Or the brand of milk she still bought even now because he had sworn it was way better than the cheap generic carton she always gravitated towards. Or that same shitty radio station she refused to change for whatever reason.

It haunted her. Try as she might, she couldn’t outrun every last lingering thread of them. She had been on a total of three dates since the breakup, each one more disastrous than the last, and she wondered bitterly if they were so terrible because they weren’t him.

Jake Seresin had ruined her, mind and soul.

And she wished she hated him for it.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not when she let herself get too close to those small moments, little glimpses of that precious thing they had and how much it meant to her. He had loved her so fully and so completely that he left no room for anyone else. His affection had consumed her, eaten away at her, limb by limb, until she was nothing outside of what she was to him. She’d always be Gwyn, always be the aviator with the smart mouth and love for the skies.

But she’d always be his girl, too. Maybe before anything else.

And maybe it wouldn’t sting so much if she hadn’t thought they were so much more than a blip in each other’s lives.

There had been a day where she had asked for his phone, hers lost somewhere between couch cushions no doubt, to look up movie times for some film he had wanted to see that evening. She had pulled up his browser and frozen at the web page pulled up.

A ring.

A simple band with a simple stone, something only she could love enough to wear, but a ring nonetheless.

An engagement ring.

She had opened a new tab in a rush, head swimming too much to even type correctly before she gave up and tossed his phone back on the counter with a swallow.

She had never brought it up.

And neither had he.

Because within a month, they were drifting apart. Within two, they were no longer together.

So yes, she dwelled on what they were sometimes, a bitter taste settling on her tongue when she thought over what was almost hers and how happy she had been to think she would live out the rest of her days with him, as his other.

It didn’t make sense to her, the way they had fallen apart. Maybe the story behind it wasn’t for her. Still, she hoped she found something like that again, or at least close to it, just to fill the empty space she had come to hate.

She wondered if she’d even want that.

So tomorrow, she’d pack her things, only whatever she could fit inside whatever shitty military-issued apartment they’d squeeze her into, and ask her neighbor to water the plants while she was away. Then she’d sleep and think of him all night before peeling herself from her bed for the last time for who knows how long and usher herself (and Disco) to the airport where she’d find a new life and sense of purpose on the other side of the tarmac.

But tonight she’d just bake in total silence, too wretched and miserable to even listen to her breakup playlist, and soak in one of the last nights of peace she’d have for a while, no matter how fragile it felt.

And if she thought of him and how she’d truly always be his girl so long as her heart completely lived with him…

Well then, that was for her to deal with.

Part 2

[houseofhurricane]

Rules for Spies: Chapter One

Summary: While Azriel and Gwyn work to free Koschei’s captives, attraction turns into something more.

Chapter Word Count: 5,246

Warnings: No warnings for this chapter, but this fic includes mature consensual sexual situations, references to past assault, and torture.

Art & Banner: cosmikla

All chapters are available on Archive of Our Own. All previous chapters linked here.

“I think you should include Gwyn on this mission,” Rhys says, and Azriel has to work to keep his composure.

“Gwyn isn’t a spy.” He thumps his finger on the map, over Koschei’s lake. For the past four hours, the two of them have been discussing everything they know about the death-lord on the continent. His new alliance with Beron, only discovered through careful maneuvering between Eris and Rhys. What this partnership might mean to their fragile peace, the treaty with its endless revisions, still unsigned.

Cassian had left after the first two hours when it became evident that, for the moment, there was no threat of open battle, no need to raise an army. Azriel had been disappointed to lose the buffer between himself and Rhys but tried not to let it show, attempting to keep his focus on the strategy, the interweaving of the facts, the ways they might gain more knowledge and act.

He’s trying to put what happened last Solstice behind him, the summons away from Elain and the subsequent dressing down, and has mostly succeeded. He’s excised Elain from his life as requested and has firmly tamped down any lingering frustration towards Rhys. And it’s been easier than he would’ve anticipated, even when Elain no longer looked at him too long, even with the recent evidence that she has moved on. Still, his shadows have clustered tight around him for the duration of this meeting, their darkness almost tangible.

For a second, reaching for a more delicate yet comprehensive way to tell Rhys that his plan is awful, Azriel thinks of Gwyn, the way she looks in the training ring, her large teal eyes focused on her target, and something constricts inside him, thinking of her transposition into his typical environment. The blood and the horror which he moves through too easily.

“She’s a trained warrior. A Carynthian, like you.” Rhys’ face is too innocent. He’s plotting something. Not knowing the specifics makes Azriel want to gnash his teeth.

“Did she ask you for such an assignment?”

“I had a meeting with Clotho yesterday, and she suggested that Gwyn might be ready to leave the library.”

“There are a thousand less dangerous projects. To be a spy--”

Rhys holds up his hand.

“You’re the spymaster, brother, but my understanding is that a spy is often successful when they’re unexpected. After all, we can’t all rely on our shadows.”

“There are still many other options.”

Rhys looks down at the map between them, circles his fingertip around the Autumn Court. Azriel has had to pull his spies twice since Hybern, even hovered as close to the Forest House as he dared while sending his own shadows, and still the secrets of that place elude him. He’s not used to operating so blindly, and Rhys knows it as calls out the fact with a gesture.

“There are rumours that a child in Sangravah had sirenic powers.”

“How did you hear about it?” Rhys was Under the Mountain when Gwyn was born.

“You’d be amazed by what shows up in temple records. Especially when the priestess writing them was fond of airing all her thoughts on the daily goings-on. You might also be surprised by what I end up reading when Nyx refuses to sleep.”

What his brother doesn’t say is that the garrulous priestess had been killed by Hybern soldiers before either Azriel or Rhys arrived at the temple. There are so many awful histories that lurk behind their offhand comments.

“And you think Gwyn was that child?”

“This power is most common in nymphs. She and her sister were the only two with the likely heritage.”

“Sirenic powers require careful training,” he says, but the words are only a stop-gap and Rhys knows it, too. If Gwyn has managed at the library for more than three years without turning the other priestesses into her minions, she keeps her power on a tight leash. If she is in fact the one with the sirenic powers. If they didn’t didn’t die with her sister, or one of the other victims at the temple.

And if there was a person in this court with those powers, able to control them, it would undoubtedly expand their knowledge. He could likely stop wielding Truth-Teller in the dark recesses of the Court of Nightmares.

Rhys says nothing, but Azriel knows that his brother, after their five centuries of friendship, can read even the scraps of thoughts he allows on his face.

“I’ll speak with her,” he says, turning back to the map.

If there is an alternative, one that doesn’t put an innocent in danger, Azriel will try and find it before morning.

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.

.

Gwyn still has forty-eight minutes left before she can return to the library. For the past month, Clotho has gently encouraged her to take short walks through Velaris, to reacquaint herself with the outside world. I think you’re ready, Gwyneth, she’d written on her slate, and Gwyn had been unable to keep from blushing at the encouragement. Clotho has seen where she started, knew every day when Gwyn felt unable to rise from her bed or to speak.

But each minute on the street leaves her anxious, looking over her shoulder at the sound of every footstep, nervous after every extended silence. She’d been making progress with occasional visits outside the library, but after the Blood Rite, Gwyn’s old fears had returned. Though she’d survived, ostensibly triumphant, she’d seen what could happen when she left the library, her little cell in the dormitory.

Still, she’s trying to get better, to become more brave. Nesta had offered to walk with her but Gwyn smiled and said no, tried to make it sound as if the outings would not be too difficult. Nesta cannot shield her from everything, as much as her friend would be more than willing to try.

Now she wanders Velaris, taking note of every faerie she passes, trying to will herself to keep a little smile on her face even while she pulls her coat tight around herself against the winter wind, as if the thick wool could be a substitute for armor. She hums under her breath, careful with the notes she chooses, making sure they are ordinary, a comfort only to herself.

She is meeting Emerie as soon as she returns to the library. Her friend will know if she’s missing. And it’s very possible that nothing bad will happen and they will spend an hour talking about Emerie’s visit to the healer Madja recommended, the one who might be able to restore function to her wings.

Gwyn is imagining this visit, the new jasmine tea and research findings she’ll offer Emerie, when she finds herself in front of a bookstore. In the past few weeks, she’s passed by tempting shops filled with jewels and clothing, and restaurants that beckon with delicious aromas, but the overfilled stacks of books make it impossible for Gwyn to continue on the street.

She drags her fingertips along the glossy spines, breathes the smell of new paper and fresh bindings deep into her lungs.

There are books of all kinds, maps of the world and dense political histories, but Gwyn heads straight for the romances that are tucked into the back corner of the shop. Her savings from her library stipend are not insignificant, and Gwyn decides she’ll treat herself to a stack of novels. She’d never tell Nesta or Emerie, let alone the House of Wind, but she’s getting a little bored of Sellyn Drake. What Gwyn loves in a romance is tension, the moment before a kiss, when everything in the world seems suffused with longing. She enjoys the smuttier portions, too, but not the way Drake’s novels rush to the bedroom, as if the sex is the only point.

Thankfully it turns out that there are quite a few excellent romance novelists in Prythian, and Gwyn is adding a third book to her stack when she hears a low voice call her name.

She knows that rumbling tone deep in her bones, and hopes she doesn’t turn an embarrassing shade of pink as she lifts a hand to acknowledge Azriel.

“I didn’t know you liked to read,” she says, as he walks towards her. His steps are silent, like he doesn’t walk on the same ground as everyone else.

“I was looking for you. Clotho suggested you might be here, or at Muriel’s.”

Gwyn had visited the tea shop yesterday, and her mind had cast about wildly as she sipped her tea. She’d left Muriel a stack of coins on the table before she’d fled. Sometimes her progress towards the outside world seems frighteningly slow.

The silence has gone thick and awkward between them, so Gwyn raises her eyebrows.

“Why are you looking for me, shadowsinger?”

The shadows swirl around him, making a sound like a distant whisper. Gwyn always wonders if she’s imagining it.

“We can speak after you’ve finished here.” His mouth curves into the hint of a smile, pleasant and perhaps a bit amused. “I could use a few new books.”

It’s only when he’s left, walking towards the political histories, that Gwyn realizes what’s on the covers behind her: shirtless males studded with muscle, swooning females, couples in the midst of an embrace. Not exactly the way she wanted Azriel to spot her.

Still, she collects herself enough to assemble a stack of seven volumes, and is just walking to the counter where the bookseller awaits when Azriel intercepts her, takes her books and two thick tomes of his own to the register.

“I can’t imagine your stipend is very generous,” he says softly as she opens her mouth to object. “And I’m about to ask you for a favor.”

Gwyn considers insisting, because her stipend is, in fact, quite ample, but then, she likes the idea of Azriel buying her books.

It’s a new thing, her interest in him, and though it’s unsettled her at times over the past few months, the feeling isn’t unwelcome. Not when she catches his eye in training and they share a reaction to something Cassian said or when he smiles at one of her own small triumphs, and certainly not now, when he hands her a hefty paper bag filled with new romances. Not when she thought she might never desire a male again, after the Hybern soldiers attacked.

“What’s this favor?” she asks, as soon as they’re on the street, his shadows darting away from him, perhaps to scan the area nearby for danger.

“Rhys asked me to include you on a mission.”

Gwyn knows that whatever this entails, she will end up dirty or bloodied or sore, and still she can’t help the grin on her face. That she could be of use in this world, to the people who rescued her and gave her a home.

“That’s amazing.”

He frowns, and despite the sunlight, his shadows cluster toward him.

“You haven’t asked what the mission entails.”

“I didn’t think you’d tell me in the middle of the street,” she says, aware that she hasn’t stopped smiling. “Anyway, what’s all this training for if I’m never going to use it?”

“Surviving, for one thing.” He doesn’t look quite as somber when he says it, and Gwyn considers that a victory, the way the hint of a smile plays on his lips, makes the perfect angles of his face come to life.

“I’ve nearly mastered that part. What’s next?”

Azriel stops walking for a moment and turns to her. Gwyn expects him to say something, probably too serious by far for the joy that rises in her at the appearance of this opportunity.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I don’t want to live my whole life in the library.”

She can feel the song of her power rising in her. It’s always a temptation when she wants something. Because she could convince him, if she wanted, that she would be excellently suited to this mission, whatever it is. She could erase every doubt from his mind. She’d only need to find the correct notes.

Instead she tamps her magic down inside her, and raises her chin a little as she meets his hazel eyes, flecked with gold in the late autumn sunlight. He knows she’s a survivor, a Valkyrie and a Carynthian, too. He’s watched every step and drop of sweat and panting breath that went into her victories. That should be enough.

Finally, he nods.

“Can you always leave the library at this time?”

She resists the urge to rejoice at the tacit acceptance. It’s very likely that a Valkyrie doesn’t dance in the streets when she’s asked on her first mission.

“Clotho and Merrill will allow it,” she says instead, crossing her arms over her chest to shield against the wind. “Where will we meet?”

“Can you make it to the Rainbow? Feyre has a studio and it will be unused at that time. The walls are warded thick.”

“I’d expect nothing less of the High Lady. The walk takes nearly an hour, though,” Gwyn says, although perhaps she’s wrong. She’s never been to that part of Velaris. She’s barely seen the city. “But I can find a way.”

“I can fly you, if that would be all right.”

She thinks of being pressed against Azriel’s body, held tight against the wind as he flies across the city, and she feels her cheeks heat.

“That would be fine,” she says.

“You’re certain?”

“About flying, or the mission?”

“There are other ways to leave the library. You could write a book,” he says, tilting his chin towards the bag that dangles from her fingers, a smile raising his lips. “Clotho says you’re an excellent researcher. And Nesta has said you’re quite the writer.”

She hums, trying to gather her thoughts, and sees the shadows shift around Azriel. As if they’re watching her.

“I could do those things, and I like them. But this -- I just think that if I could help people, the way you and Cassian and Morrigan and the High Lord do, that would make me feel…” She does not want to say, would never mean, that all of this was worth it. She would give anything to have Catrin in this world. But if she could make good on the fact that she is still alive, that would mean something. “It would make me feel useful. Like all this training wasn’t just for myself.”

Now when she meets his eye, it’s like those moments when they glance at each other during training, when they’re in perfect agreement for an extended, shining moment.

Azriel extends his hand, his Siphon gleaming cobalt and his fingers bare even in this cold, the scars an intricate mark of whatever he himself has survived.

“Welcome to the mission, Gwyn,” he says, and she wants to savor it, the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers, his long fingers brushing her wrist. The approval she sees in those lovely eyes. She could swear she sees one of his shadows make its way up her arm.

When she starts for the library, she assumes that he’ll go his own way, off to whatever his afternoon contains, but instead he walks with her, offering to carry her bag of books. It’s only a courtesy, the same as she’d do for Nesta or Emerie, but she likes it anyway.

She asks about his selections, teasing him about the size and age of the tomes, and he tells her that political histories are often very useful in his line of work. How the allegiances and battles of centuries ago seem very recent to certain minds.

“So you’re saying you enjoy old court gossip.”

“It’s history,” he says, and she’s delighted at the hint of sheepishness that’s crept into his voice.

“Only if an esteemed scholar writes it.”

The ensuing debate takes them all the way to the library, Azriel telling her about one of his first missions and how old Prythian histories had helped him find a particularly nasty being that wreaked havoc on the border between the Night and Day Courts, and Gwyn pointing out that the old rivalry between two ancient High Lords he mentioned was practically fodder for a romance novel, even before you considered the bride they’d both offered for.

Azriel is actually laughing when they walk up to the library doors, which is of course the moment that Emerie arrives and sees him hand her the bag that’s heavy with her books. He greets her and says goodbye to both of them the same as he does when their morning training sessions end, but Gwyn can tell from Emerie’s face that her friend isn’t going to drop the subject.

Not after Gwyn finally confessed her insignificant little crush.

Gwyn only regrets for a second that she didn’t have the chance to invite him in, didn’t find some way to continue the conversation, before she pulls Emerie into the library.

“Tell me about your appointment,” she says as they walk to the dormitory kitchen.

To her credit, Emerie makes it through five minutes talking about the healer before she holds her hand up.

“You’re not going to make me talk about the travesty that is getting my wings fixed without telling me what all of that was.”

“I ran into Azriel at a bookshop,” she says, feeling her cheeks warm. She wants to tell Emerie about the mission, knows she can’t, at least not yet. And her time with Azriel is something that Gwyn needs a little while to consider for herself. Even though, in the end, all it means is a real use for all that training.

“Please say he bought you that lovely stack.” Emerie has already started going through the titles, nodding with approval as she scans the first few pages. “I’ll send your story to Sellyn Drake.”

“There wouldn’t be nearly enough smut for Sellyn,” she says, fussing with the tea things. “Tell me about the rest of your appointment, Em.”

“Anahit thinks she can actually repair my wings,” Emerie says, setting the books back in the bag. “She’d have to magically duplicate the tendons in my ankles and graft them onto my wings, and it would be lying in bed for weeks while the graft takes, but I think I could find someone to mind the shop if I wanted.”

“Nesta and I would help.” Gwyn reaches out and squeezes her friend’s hand. “We’d do anything you needed.”

“I know you’re serious when you offer to leave the library for more than an hour. But I don’t know if it will work.”

“What if you could fly, though?”

In spite of the fear that still lingers in her deep brown eyes, Emerie’s smile is bright, and as she lays out the rest of the procedure, what it would entail if she were to go through it, Gwyn begins to wonder what it might be, to have this conversation in another place in the world. What it would be like to live outside the library. To know every part of the Rainbow and every corner of Prythian. To go on missions and be useful.

In spite of everything she said to Azriel earlier, the idea is frightening. Still, as she and Emerie contemplate the possibility of flight, Gwyn can’t stop thinking about it.

.

.

.

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.

When Gwyn meets him outside the library, she’s changed out of her robes into pants and boots and a sky blue sweater that peeks out from under the thick teal wool of her coat. He has to tell himself not to let his eyes fall from her face to the long legs revealed by her camel trousers, lithe and curved with the muscles she’s built in training. He likes Gwyn and finds her lovely, but today she’s captivating in a new way, bright and inviting, and it’s hard to keep from staring.

“Nesta loaned me these,” she says, noticing his appraisal. “I thought the robes might be too noticeable.”

“Good instincts,” he says, careful not to hold her gaze too long. He doesn’t want to frighten her, or make her think there is more to this than the meeting they agreed on, but he also has a hard time looking away from the excitement in her teal eyes, the smile her full pink lips are trying unsuccessfully to contain. As if he isn’t about to lay out a brutal mission.

She steps closer to him and gives a little nod, and he scoops her up in his arms, careful to notice whether she flinches from his touch or goes rigid as the city falls away beneath them.

Instead, he watches her angle her chin so that she can take in the view, feels in his arms only the alert perception that he sees when Gwyn is focused in the middle of a training session. It occurs to Azriel that she has no idea what Velaris looks like from above, that she’s never seen it before.

He starts pointing out landmarks to her as they pass down below, and he takes a more circuitous route, through the market district and past the theaters and museums, following the curve of the Sidra that bisects the city. She asks questions that reveal she’s studied the city’s history, but knows nothing that’s happened in Velaris in the last hundred years.

“You could be a creature from a legend, rising after a century-long slumber, ” he jokes, and is unreasonably gratified when she snorts loud enough to be heard over the wind.

“I thought tour guides were supposed to supply more information than teasing.”

“Consider this a preview before the real tour.”

The words slip out before he thinks them through sufficiently. He shouldn’t make these kinds of promises, especially given what he’s about to ask of her. He’s beginning to realize that it’s too easy to say whatever he thinks in Gwyn’s presence, to get too comfortable, and now, when he tries to pinpoint it, he’s not sure when it started, when he started seeking her out during training or thinking, just for seconds at a time, of her bright smile.

Azriel had planned to take a winding path above the Rainbow but instead he aims them right at Feyre’s studio. When they land, Gwyn cranes her neck to take in the neighborhood, and he can’t look away from the smile on her face, taking in the shops and studios for the first time.

“I see why Clotho wanted me to explore the city,” she says, and Azriel thinks, sadly, that this is not exactly correct. As far as he knows, Clotho has never seen Velaris beyond what she can glimpse from the window.

When she’s gotten a good view, and his shadows have determined there are no suspicious eyes or ears on them, he ghosts his fingers over the center of Gwyn’s back, steers her toward the door and up the stairs, to the small sitting room where Feyre and the other teachers relax between lessons. On the low table between the circled couches and chairs, there’s a cardboard box with his name written on it, in Feyre’s handwriting.

He can smell the chocolate cake and fruit tarts inside without even opening the box. Trust his High Lady to turn a mission briefing into something cozier.

“Do you often meet with other spies here?” Gwyn asks, and he can tell that there’s a little strain in her voice. If he were Cassian, he’d call it jealousy.

“I think Feyre wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” he says, opening the box and pushing it towards her. “I normally don’t provide my spies or contacts with refreshments.”

“Please tell the High Lady that I’m grateful.” Gwyn’s cheeks are pink as she selects a fruit tart, pops a strawberry into her mouth. Her tongue catches a drop of custard left on her bottom lip and he forces himself to look away.

It’s safe, his shadows whisper, clustering around him with their report, no eyes or ears except the ones you want.

“Aren’t you going to tell me about the mission?” Gwyn asks. She’s already eaten half the tart.

“I was giving you one last chance to change your mind,” he drawls, even as his shadows whisper liar, let him know they saw what he was watching when he looked at her.

“I want to be useful, remember?” Another bite, another swipe of her tongue against her lips. He swallows.

“There is a death-lord on the continent who cursed the Queen of Scythia. Our would-be ally spends her days as a firebird, her nights as a human woman. The High Lady has promised to try and break her curse, but the spell is ingenious and its creator is too powerful for any of us to defeat.”

“The death-lords are more or less immortal and can’t be killed,” she says, nodding. “I’ve read the legends. What’s his name?”

“Koschei.”

Gwyn pales only a little, but it’s enough to show Azriel that she’s familiar with some of the legends about him.

“He’s bound to that lake on the continent.” She says the words as if she’s not sure whether they’re still true. Whether the death-lord could be lurking around some corner in Velaris.

“He’s still there. But he’s allied himself with Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. We need to find out what Koschei has offered him, what Beron has offered in exchange.”

“You want me to go to the Autumn Court?” Gwyn reaches for her hair, only a few shades deeper than the Vanserra’s.

“I have certain allies in that court who are working to provide those answers. But Rhys wants to show Beron that Koschei isn’t such a valuable ally. He wants us to lead a strike against him.”

“You want me to help you kill a death-lord, then.” To her credit, Gwyn does not look frightened. She wears the same expression that she did after the first time she could not cut the white ribbon in training: determined to find a way.

“Perhaps,” he says, “but first, I’ve heard rumors that the Queen of Scythia is not the only woman he has captured. That he keeps them imprisoned at his lake. Rhys and I want to free them.”

For a moment, Gwyn is quiet, and Azriel is startled to find that he cannot read her expression. Five centuries of practice, and at this moment, he has no idea what she’s thinking.

“You waited until it was politically advantageous to save these women?”

In training, he has heard Gwyn laugh a hundred times, has heard her squeal with excitement or recount some dusty old legend in a way that makes it fascinating. In Sangravah, he heard her scream, and, afterwards, when he’d wrapped her in his cloak, heard the small noises that a terrified person makes when the horror has ostensibly ended.

He has never heard this kind of wrath in her voice.

He holds up his hands on instinct. For a second, he forgets about the scars he bares to her, until he sees the slight widening of her eyes, the pain in them.

“There was a rumor, a vision,” he says, Elain’s scared and skinny face flashing behind his eyes, “but we were only now able to substantiate it.”

“Through your Autumn Court allies.”

He nods. He wants to say more, to explain, but he can’t risk telling her about Eris or his alliance with the Night Court. Not yet.

“We need to find a way into the residence and to pull the women out. Without attracting Koschei’s notice.”

“He would have bound them, wouldn’t he?”

“That’s part of what we need to determine, the kind of spellwork he’s using. My magic isn’t made for untangling such things delicately, but it can shatter a binding spell fairly easily.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. He wants to ask about her own powers, how they might contribute, but judges it too early. If she is willing to take on this mission, while they gather information and strategize, there will be time to ask about those sirenic powers, whether she even bears them.

“I want to help,” she says, her eyes bright, her chin set. She looks to Azriel like a queen preparing for battle. “Where do we start?”

“I’ll make certain adjustments to your training,” he says, removing a piece of cake from the box, now that she’s agreed. He knows how to discuss her training, how to plan a mission. “You haven’t worked enough on stealth or with daggers. They’re a last resort on the battlefield, but a spy works in secret, often at close range.”

“And what will you tell Emerie and Nesta, when I suddenly start receiving these lessons?” He can see the question beneath the question.

“All three of you will learn together. The skills are valuable for anyone.”

“Can I tell them about this?”

“The details stay between us,” he says, resisting the urge to smile, make it a kinder message. He is comfortable with secrets, and even still, there are times when he wants to lay bare his life, although he suspects there is no one who could bear the weight of all he’s kept hidden.

“They’ll have questions about why we’re meeting together.”

“You don’t think telling them you’re working on a mission with me will be enough?”

Her grin flashes, the brightest thing in the room.

“Have you met Nesta and Emerie, shadowsinger?”

“Then this is another lesson in spying, priestess,” he says, the corners of his mouth raising of their own accord. “You’ll need to build your cover.”

“They’ll think we’re--” She covers her face with her hands, but he can still see her pink cheeks, the way the blush extends to her forehead.

“It’s that embarrassing?” he asks, keeping the smile on his face, to relax her. Because of course, given Gwyn’s history, it’s perfectly reasonable that she wouldn’t want people assuming she was sneaking around with the spymaster of the Night Court, of all people. “If you prefer, you can tell them you’re tutoring me in some obscure line of Fae history.”

“You’ve likely lived through it,” she retorts. She moves her hands away from her face. “I suppose if I can’t handle this, I’m not ready for the mission.”

“The problem isn’t your limitations.” He hopes it’s the right word. “If you’re honest about them, we can operate successfully around them.”

“It’s only that…” She trails off, considers him, and her cheeks go pink again. “Nevermind. It will be fine. But I should tell you I don’t like being winnowed. I hate the idea that I’ll be stranded in an unknown place, with no way to leave.”

He lets out a silent breath. They will have to winnow, or it will be impossible to extract the women from Koschei’s lake.

“And if I promise that I will never leave you stranded?”

“Then I think you can winnow me. But only if it’s necessary.”

She extends her hand and he takes it, the calluses on her fingers fitting themselves against the back of his hand.

He braces herself for her disgust at his scars, but instead, she smiles at him, the way she does when she’s mastered a new technique with the sword.

“Let’s free these women,” she says, and although he is the one used to giving orders to his spies, Azriel simply nods, accepts her command.

Notes: Thank you so much for reading Rules for Spies! I'm so excited to share it with you. 🧡 For sneak peeks and theories, follow me on Instagram at house.of.hurricane or TikTok at houseofhurricane.

Taglist: @azrielbedara, @azrielsdarling13, @brown-and-weird, @cozycomfyliving08, @girlbossenergy, @glemiessa, @gwynrielsupremacy, @imsointobooks, @katekatpattywack, @lightwood-bane13,@meher-sumedha, @mystical-blaise, @nansr, @nervousninjasuit, @onemorenightdreamer, @ruthieluvsbooks, @saramoonbeam, @secretlovelybeauty, @shisingh, @soffiiione, @thenerdywriter, @valkyriesbooks, @vassien-supremacy6, @vikingmagic33, @zanywolffriendhairdo

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[xtltokio]

Carlos is a control freak and as Rafael himself confirmed, his love language is the Act of Service. He likes to get his hands dirty, but what happens when he can't do both?

It’s the dilemma Carlos faces in 3x13.

Let’s dig in

First of all I need to say that I loved the episode, I believe it was fundamental for the development of Tarlos and for Carlos as a character

We need to understand that this episode was totally from Carlos' pov, so of course, watching him, we'll sympathize with him more (it doesn't help that Rafael is a great actor), and a lot of people put Carlos on this pedestal, and you think he deserves someone better, but it fails to recognize some flaws he had in 3x13. Carlos is a control freak and as Rafael himself confirmed, his love language is the Act of Service. He likes to get his hands dirty, but what happens when he can't do both? 

It’s the dilemma Carlos faces in 3x13.

I know it says a lot about Carlos reading articles to help TK, volunteering to go to meetings, being willing to listen, but the truth is, that's not what TK needs right now. Carlos felt left out the entire episode, Insecure, thinking he's incapable, and of course he has a certain insecurity that comes from the fact that TK already left him once.

I just want to say that Carlos' feelings are valid and justified, it's horrible to feel helpless trying to help the people we love the most. The feeling is worse because TK is getting it from someone else, and it hurts Carlos, the feeling of not being enough.

In this episode Carlos fails where he always failed, in the lack of communication with TK., Instead of saying "you could have sent me a message that you would arrive late because I was going to eat with Cooper" or "I'm feeling isolated", instead he was passive aggressive in that dinner scene (I just want to say here, that personally I loved Carlos petty), TK was the first, like him always does, of trying to communicate and to understand what is wrong.

We didn't get much of TK's vision in this episode, but we can take some things away, I disagree with people who say TK doesn't open up to Carlos.

Carlos knows TK is going to meetings, Carlos said that Cooper's name is popping up a lot just means TK talks to Carlos. He still talks about the insights he has after the meetings, like when he said the anxiety about his relapse after his mother's death.

 TK is back to square one, meetings and leaning on his sponsor  its like professional helps  As TK himself said, he needs to talk to someone who understands what he's going through.

I thought what he said was so spot on:

"If that means that sometimes I’m late getting home just, know it’s only so I will get home”

That's it, TK is fighting for his recovery, he's fighting for his will to live while still grieving. When he said “know it’s only so I will get home” it's about doing what he needs to do so he can get back to Carlos. 

In all of this, Carlos is TKs safe place, one of the reasons for him to stay sober, the first thing Cooper talks about when he meets Carlos is how it feels like he already knows him, all this because of how much TK must have talked about Carlos 

There's no way Carlos won't be one of the pillars of TK's recovery. 

and we have the conversation about Gwyn, the beauty of that scene, it was here that Carlos realized that in some moments he won't be enough and that's okay. There are many ways that Carlos is important to TK. 

 TK is making an effort to include Carlos, but everything is a process, and TK is in a fragile moment. I think what we need to understand too, that TK's recovery is about TK, and no one else, and of course Carlos' feelings need to be considered, but if TK thinks that at this point, the best way to recover is to take a step back, and that's how it needs to be done and that's what Carlos understood in the final scene, he realized he didn't know what he needed to do or say for TK to get better, Carlos then does what he thinks is best, he calls Cooper!

For someone who is a control freak, knowing how to let go is a huge development. I think Carlos realized he can't fix everything but he can make things better for TK.

 # I loved the dinner scene because in addition to being two valid points being presented, it also showed how the two of them have improved a lot when it comes to communication, and I thought it was so important TK kissing Carlos before leaving, saying that he won't go anywhere.

 # But not everything is perfect, I still need a conversation between TK and Carlos about his breakup, and Carlos' insecurity about TK always leaving, now if TK decides to guarantee his love by offering a ring , I won't complain. 

[lonestarbabe]

The line, "Why not this is perfect, and perfect things should last forever," really has me thinking about a lot, and while it obvious relates to the nice moment with Gwyn and a throwback to simply times, it also relates to TK's relationship with Carlos. But I also think it connects to the choice that Gwyn tells TK he has, which is basically that he can live or he can die. He either stays in that happy but static place, or he can choose to go back to real life, which is full of static. It's messy and always changing. There are obvious reasons why its tempting to stay in the fantasy, but the fantasy is fragile and fleeting, and it can be too late before someone realizes that (insert frog and boiling water analogy). Thus, what the scene is suggesting is quite poigant.

The real world is painful, but it isn't monochrome. It's the kind of "gray" that TK seeks because colors are overwhelming, yet the gray deprives him of meaningful connections. The same idea connect to his addiction; he tries to take himself to that happy place to escape all the colors, and in the process, he pushes himself away from what he loves most in the pursuit of that escape. It's that want to get away that leads to self-destruction and self-sabotage, even if it temporarily feels nice, and in this case, the stakes are higher than ever.

It's easy to get lost in the fantasy, and even get stuck in it. It's tempting for him not to resist, to stop fighting, and not deal with his problems. Yet, in his fantasy, nothing makes sense. The timer goes off before the cookies are in and the toffee appears in his hand. Gwyn resets the timer, and TK become distracted again by the fantasy. The happy distractions temporarily pull him away from the truth that is trying to break through. We then see TK in a hospital bed. His time is running out. He can't avoid his decision forever.

As TK himself would say, nothing stays the same forever, and to try to keep things the same is an act of impeding yourself from living, and this entire idea fits the conversation with Gwyn and some of what we've seen in TK's other relationships.

The failures in Tarlos' relationship could relate to a want for everything to be perfect rather than addressing the issues. It's often easier to push aside issues and pretend everything's sunny than to confront the noise that is piercing through that bliss. Just as TK can choose to live with the noise or die ignoring it and chasing an unreal fantasy, perhaps there's a similar dynamic with his relationship where he must learn to accept that discordance is natural and that hardships add strength and depth to relationships. There's the idealized fantasy fighting the real but sometimes painful truth. The fantasy is tantalizing, but it is hollow because there's no meaning beyond the surface. And at the end of the day, TK cannot live in that place forever, he has to make a decision because the noise is coming through the shallow walls of his fantasy whether he wants that to be the case or not.

I also think it's an interesting decision to have Owen be away from the fantasy so it's just TK and Gwyn, and it seems to me that Owen's absence is also part of the dichotomy between what is real and what is fantasy. What I mean by this is that Owen's absence probably loomed over many of TK's childhood memories, and in fact made certain moments with his mother more special because making cookies could have been a bright memory amid a lot of more painful ones. He's reduced all those complex feelings into the simple, childish moments with his mom. He still has knowledge of the outside world and events, but he doesn't have to engage with any of that, any of the complexity of everything that has happened.

[glassessence]

Elriel Hint and Analysis - includes analysis of Feysand & Nessian (ACOSF Spoilers)

I’m pretty new to the fandom, but I am currently obsessed with Elriel. This is my ship and I will go down with it until the day I die. As a fairly casual reader, I honestly had zero doubts the next book would be Elain’s and that the couple would be Elriel. 

Then I discovered the existence of the extra POV chapters and Azriel’s threw me in for a bit of a loop. Especially with the ending (which I genuinely believe is a red herring. I lean very heavily into the lightsinger Gwyn theory).

However, stalking Tumblr made me come across this again: 

Life and death and rebirth

Sun and moon and dark

Rot and bloom and bones

Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn. 

Love me, touch me, sing me.

And then my brain accidentally vomited an essay on the symbolism in each sister’s journey... 

Life and death and rebirth so clearly symbolise Feysand’s journey. Feyre leaves behind her life of poverty for a brand new one with Tamlin. She journeys Under the Mountain for love of him and ultimately succeeds in saving not just him, but all of them. In the process, she dies. Not just in the physical sense, but spiritually too. Feyre the human perishes, giving rise to Feyre the High Fae. In a purely physical sense, this is definitely a rebirth. But it’s stilted, incomplete. She’s the newly born phoenix - young, fragile and yet covered in the ashes of its fiery death. Her spiritual rebirth lags behind her newly changed body. Like a bird in a cage, she is trapped in Tamlin’s realm, unable to finish developing, to spread wings and fly. 

That all changes when she is whisked away to the Night Court. She learns to read and some of the ash falls from her body. She makes friends and some more ash is brushed away by the Inner Circle. The final remnants of ash are blown away by the taste of freedom and the kiss of wind, and Feyre’s rebirth is finally complete. Spiritually and physically, she is changed. She becomes Feyre the High Lady. From life back to life, she is returned through the power of love. Take note that while love is important in all the sisters’ journeys, it is the focal point and highlight of Feyre’s. She is someone who has never been loved in that wholesome, selfless way Rhysand loves her. Tamlin was possessive and abusive; Nesta was barbed and sharp. Elain was fragile and ethereal. Love was something she had never really known and consequently something she desperately, desperately needed. That’s why the phrase that symbolises her is love me.

Sun and moon and dark refers very much to Nessian. Nesta is the sun and she is burning. Has been burning for a long, long time. She is aflame, nothing but ashes inside, and her words are fire. She scalds anyone who dares approach, just as everything melts before the sun. Like Feyre, she has had her physical rebirth, but not her spiritual one. She is trapped in her own head, locked behind her own self-hatred, her own raging inferno that yields to no one. Like Feyre, she is also a phoenix, but one whose fire never stopped. In that sense, she has never died. Her spiritual rebirth is not simply incomplete; it has never happened.

Until she starts training with Cassian. Until she starts befriending Emerie and Gwyn. This is what marks the death of Nesta the human and the emergence of Nesta the High Fae. (I use the term ‘human’ loosely here, mostly as a way of conveying my point about her spiritual journey rather than the state of her physical being). She loses her solar flare, that inner blaze that was killing her and blackening her soul. She mellows from unapproachable sun to a softer moon. It’s here that she stays a while, seeming to progress and regress in her healing journey as the moon waxes and wanes. It’s not until the hiking scene that she finally breaks. She weeps despite Cassian’s expectations to the contrary. Through her tears, she finally extinguishes the long-raging fire and hatred that has been destroying her. No more blazing sun, no more wavering moon. Only darkness to cradle her, and acceptance. Through Cassian’s ceaseless efforts and her friends, her journey reaches its apex. She finally becomes Nesta the Valkyrie. 

Her journey hinges heavily upon the fact that nobody could reach her through the flames. Nobody had kept trying after getting burned again and again. Nobody except Cassian. He reaches out, time after time, even when she hurts him. Even when she burns him. Until he succeeds and touches her soul. That’s why the phrase that symbolises her is touch me.

Of course that leaves only the last line: rot and bloom and bones. I wonder who this could symbolise! Surely not the Archeron sister who is associated with roses and has a complicated romance dilemma with someone from the Autumn Court (rot) and someone else from the Night Court (bones)! Surely not!

Jokes aside, I strongly believe this line reveals Elain’s journey. If we continue thinking of the words as a progression, I think it makes a lot of sense. Keeping in mind the theme of life, death and rebirth, this is how I think of it: 

Life / Rot / stagnation, the start of the journey

Death / Bloom / change, the start of healing

Rebirth / Bones / ascendance and acceptance, the start of the future

There are several interesting things to note about the sentence: 

The word bloom is nestled among rot and bones

Elain’s two potential love interests both have strong associations with those words

I’ll address each point as we delve into Elain’s analysis. 

Let’s start with Elain the human. As previously established, this is when the character is at their worst, blind in the dark before the dawn. I see this as Elain’s forced transformation by the Cauldron. Everything she knows is ripped away from her and her marriage crumbled to dust. She is thrust into a world both unknown and at war. She emerges changed and cursed with powers she cannot control and does not understand. Her life, once a slow-blooming flower, has just rotted into nothing. She is lost, confused and deeply depressed. Her physical rebirth may be complete, but her spiritual rebirth cannot begin until she gathers the shattered pieces of herself back together.

This happens slowly. So slowly, in fact, that it’s hard to notice and easy to dismiss. She befriends Nuala and Cerridwen. Begins gardening again. Talks to the Inner Circle and buys them gifts for Solstice. Slowly, so very slowly, she is starting to piece herself back together. Off-page, she quietly unravels Elain the human and emerges from her cocoon as Elain the High Fae. Like a wilted flower that has dropped its petals, a new season has come, bringing with it new buds. She is blooming, opening herself to new possibilities for companionship, love and for a new self to rise to the surface. But blooms are fragile, newly born things. Elain hasn’t dealt with the full force of her trauma, of her lifelong lack of choice (I’m not going to delve into this as there are so many amazing analyses out there!). She is a trembling fawn, still trying to learn how to walk.

But her spiritual rebirth will remake her. Bones. It’s so different from the previous two words that it really leaves an impact. Blooms rot and fade. Flesh breaks and dies. But bones are strong, the frame that holds up our entire beings. Bones are unyielding and solid, taking no other shape like blood nor bruising like flesh. I see this as Elain standing up for herself, unswayed by external forces that have always governed her life and breaking away from the fragile flower people have always thought she was. By cutting away the rotting flesh, she will reveal the backbone beneath and ascend as Elain the Kingslayer/Seer. 

Of course, closely tied to each sister’s personal growth arc is her love interest. For me, I don’t see it going any other way than Azriel. 

SJM chose rot not only to represent the ‘life’ section of Elain’s personal journey, but also to represent Lucien. He has connections to the Autumn Court, a season that is often associated with decay and rot, but also with harvest and bounty. Highlighting the negative aspects of autumn invokes a strong sense of wrongness. Lucien is not right for her. Not to say anything bad about his character; he’s just not right for Elain. His presence in the books eats away at her newfound boldness; he rots away the path she is trying to carve for herself. 

On the other hand, Azriel is closely tied with death, with blood and bones and shadow. He’s not only Rhys’ spymaster, he’s also his torturer. His association is with bones, a word that invokes a sense of everlasting, of persevering beyond death. Bones is also used to describe the ‘rebirth’ section of Elain’s personal growth arc, the final aspect that leads to ascendance, and acceptance of one’s past and present. Meanwhile, bloom represents Elain herself and the ‘death’ portion of her story, the aspect that heralds change and healing. 

Rot, bloom and bones represent both her personal journey and her love interests. It’s all intrinsically linked. Lucien is ‘life’ and stagnation, Elain is ‘death’ and change, and Azriel is ‘rebirth’ and acceptance. As a progression, this is how I interpret the sentence: 

By rejecting the bond with Lucien, she is stepping into herself and forging something everlasting with Azriel.

Lastly, let’s not forget that the phrase symbolising her is sing me. This didn’t make much sense to me until I read Azriel’s bonus POV. In it, he confesses to Gwyn that he does sing. Why include this if it’s not a subtle callback to this prophetic paragraph in ACOMAF? It feels like a treat to hardcore fans who like finding all the little connections (since they’re the ones most likely to have read the bonus chapters). The fact that Gwyn also sings signals to me there’s an important plot point regarding song. Maybe homegirl Elain will be forced to throw a hardcore metal concert to save Az XD Wouldn’t that be a plot twist HAHAHA. 

I don’t know when SJM started planting seeds for Elriel in any serious capacity, so perhaps I am reading WAY too much into this. Either way, I am super keen for the next book!

Please feel free to comment and let me know your thoughts! I am desperate for Elriel right now hahaha. Thanks for reading! 

OH, BUT ONE MORE THING. 

The greetings are really interesting. Sweet thing obviously refers to Feyre. Lady of night and princess of decay are clearly meant for Nesta. 

Fanged beast and trembling fawn are left for Elain. It’s easy to write this off as being about her LI and herself, respectively, but I don’t know. The sentences build upon each other. A single moniker grows to two - the first separated by a comma, the second expanding to use an and. It’s something you see a lot in poetry, generally used to emphasise a point. I’m not entirely sure what the point is; it might just be a nice writing flourish, but wouldn’t it be interesting if both those statements were referring to Elain herself? Wouldn’t it just be juicy? 

[yazthebookish]

submission 1 | by @daevastanner 💙

Gwyn watched the silken, white ribbon ripple in the crisp night breeze.

It taunted Gwyn. Mocked her. Stuck out it’s non-existent tongue in defiance, leering at her.

Her eyes narrowed on the bone white fabric. She lifted her sword, angling her blade at it. “Fuck you.”

It wriggled again, the moonlight glinting off the silk.

This ribbon, the challenge in it, invigorated her. Its refusal to bow to her, to yield. She had to beat it. She had to.

But there was something else about the ribbon… something she couldn’t quite define.

Gwyn stared that ribbon down and there was a part of her, deep, deep down in her chest, that acknowledged her relationship with this ribbon would go beyond her cutting it. After she defeated it - and she would defeat it - it wouldn’t be the last she saw of the blasted thing.

This ribbon and Gwyn… they were bound to each other. In what sense she wasn’t yet sure, but if she’d learned anything these past two years it was that the proverb: time reveals all things, was true.

Gwyn sliced at the ribbon.

It fluttered triumphantly and Gwyn released a harsh breath.

She hefted the blade, balancing it carefully against her shoulder, then closed her eyes and began to count down from ten.

And then the very vision that had awoken her tonight flashed before her eyes. Echoed in her ears.

A sword singing as it cut through the air and severed flesh and bone. The fleshy smack of a head tumbling to the floor. Feral, greedy, male laughter. Her own shrieks piercing the night air. Then… a snarl. A bellow. The spray of blood against her cheeks and a male trying to help her sit. A cloak wrapping around her shoulders and a pair of hazel eyes.

Then that pull.

That snap.

That shuddering sensation that was tucked deep down beneath all the terror and sorrow as a male with scarred fingers inspected her for wounds.

Gwyn forced her eyes open, willing away the nightmares. The ones that weren’t supposed to follow her here to the training pit. A safe haven.

She wouldn’t think about that night here. She wouldn’t think about Sangravah or Catrin or the shadowsinger.

Especially not the shadowsinger.

Gwyn turned on her heel and faced down the white ribbon once more. Inhaling a steadying breath, she gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands, lifting it off her shoulder and rearing it back.

She planted her feet, training her eyes on ivory fabric, and murmured those words that had become her mantra.

“I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break me.”

And she swung…

But stopped mid-slice as a strong breeze wafted over her and a rippling noise sounded overhead. Gwyn felt that kernel in her chest - the one she’d shoved away, the one that had recently resurfaced - spark. She cursed it, steeling her nerves as the shadowsinger landed a few feet away.

You can face him. You can speak to him.

Gwyn took another deep breath and whirled to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you were all going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here, and—“

“It’s fine. I came to retrieve something I forgot.”

A lie.

Despite the vacant expression on his face, Gwyn could read the unease in his eyes. She didn’t address it though. Far too taken by the way his shadows peered at her instead. Tilting their imaginary heads as though they too knew her secret. As though they were also aware that Azriel was looking at his mate.

Yes... they seemed to say. Yes, we know, Priestess…

Gwyn smiled at them. At their curiosity. She felt a kinship with them. In their shared fondness for the shadowsinger.

Azriel’s hazel eyes were trained on her, studying her as she studied his shadows.

Did he know?

No, he couldn’t know.

And he would never guess.

Would never ever guess that the broken, fragile priestess he’d rescued was his mate. The blushing, plain, speckled female who he trained had been paired with him by the Cauldron. For how could the Cauldron imagine they were a match?

Still, even with the unlikely possibility that he would recognize his rage that night in Sangravah where he had cut down three soldiers in a matter of seconds as the protectiveness of a mate, Gwyn didn’t want to take a chance.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, turning her attention back to Azriel. “I was trying to cut the ribbon,” said Gwyn, gesturing to the wriggling white fabric with her sword.

“Aren’t you cold?”

She shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

She was brought back to evenings in the courtyard in Sangravah. Midnight games of hide and seek with the children, unbeknownst to the senior priestesses.

When Gwyn looked up, her eyes met his and she recognized the expression he wore. Haunted. Confused. It was the same look many wore when they learned her story.

And they never looked at her the same way again after that.

But Azriel quickly righted his gaze. He became steady and aloof once more. All traces of pity were wiped away. It left Gwyn rather baffled. That the male who had rescued her could so easily put aside what he’d seen that night.

Then again, why would it surprise her? Glancing at those hands it was clear he’d survived something too. He likely knew pity well and was acquainted with the gut wrenching feeling it left you with. Like your healing and your confidence was a sham.

Was that why the Cauldron had paired them? Because they were two survivors?

For what other reason was Azriel her mate?

He was beautiful and powerful and legendary.

And she was just Gwyn.

But that was enough of that. She would not dwell on the fact that the shadowsinger was her mate. She would not contemplate it. The Cauldron was wrong.

Unsure of how to end the conversation Gwyn only said: “Happy Solstice.”

Azriel snorted and Gwyn’s brows shot up.

“Are you kicking me out?”

I wish you would stay, Shadowsinger…

“No!” she protested - a bit too quickly if she was being honest. It was as much a response to him as it was to her wishing that he would linger. “I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just… I know you like to be alone.” She offered a half smile to go along with her half-truth. “Is that why you came up here?”

“I forgot something.”

Amusement got the better of her, the smile she wore warming. “At two in the morning?”

Azriel smiled crookedly and Gwyn felt like one of the swooning girls from her books. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

“A comfort to every growing child.”

At that, the Shadowsinger nearly smiled and she could see in his eyes a flicker of humor.

“How was the party?” asked Gwyn.

And then one of his shadows darted out towards the curling mist of her hot breath. Almost longingly. Almost as though it were dancing.

It was clear to Gwyn now that they knew. The shadows knew about the bond and they wanted their singer aware too…

Don’t fret over it, she thought of saying to them.

“Fine,” Azriel answered.

Gwyn fought the urge to raise a brow because clearly it had not been “fine.”

“It was nice,” he added. “Did you and the priestesses have a celebration?”

He was deflecting but she would allow it. “Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.”

Gwyn wished he did see. She wished he had come and saw her sing. Because when she sang she was someone worthy. Worthy of an invoking stone. Worthy of friendship. Worthy of love and admiration. Singing was Gwyn’s power, just as shadows were Azriel’s.

Although… shadowsinger? Did his magic have anything to do with singing? He did have an awfully nice tenor of a voice. What would it sound like with music?

Unable to help herself, the priestess soldiered forward and asked. “Do you sing?”

Azriel blinked and Gwyn could see that she’d taken him off guard. She couldn’t blame him. Gwyn wasn’t the smoothest conversationalist. Her mind was always racing and segues were not a strength she possessed.

“Why do you ask?”

Rather than explain the inner workings of her mind, Gwyn replied: “They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”

Azriel’s brows furrowed just slightly. “I am a shadowsinger—it’s not a title that someone just made up.”

Another deflection.

Damn. He was good at this. At dodging questions. Gwyn got the distinct impression he was used to being left alone. That no one tended to pry with him.

But Gwyn had never been one to back down from a challenge, and wasn’t that what Azriel was? A challenge. A puzzle. A riddle to solve. A mystery novel where she raced to guess the ending? Yes, he was her mate, but he was also an enigma. One she wanted to crack.

So she shrugged him off. “Do you though? Sing?”

Maybe he would be annoyed. Maybe he would stalk off. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate the chatty priestess pressing him for answers.

But Azriel only chuckled, seemingly amused by that indignance so many found irritating about her. It warmed something in her chest. It plugged a hole she hadn’t known existed.

“Yes,” he finally said.

Oh, she knew it. She had known he could sing. Of course he did.

Well, now he had to sing for her. There was no way around it—

“Try cutting the ribbon again,” he said, jerking his chin towards the rippling bit of fabric.

Part of her acknowledged that this was yet another deflection, but the other part of her - the one that was a blushing school girl - felt her heart stutter.

“What—with you watching?”

And to her horror, he nodded.

She almost protested. Almost redirected the conversation back to the topic of his singing.

But he owed Gwyn nothing. And he had already divulged a bit of his soul tonight. She would reward him and cease her inquisition.

Gwyn steeled her nerves, faced the ribbon and sliced.

The ribbon remained whole.

The shadowsinger rubbed his hands together, against the bitter chill of the Night breeze. “Again.”

Gwyn obeyed, executing the same maneuver… with the same result. The ribbon triumphant.

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground.”

Gwyn faced Azriel to see him removing the Illyrian blade from his back. He approached her and that scent of night mist and cedar was overpowering.

Watch,” he said.

Gwyn made herself focus, and watched as the shadowsinger demonstrated… and rotated his wrist. “You see how you open up right here?” He shifted his hand, correcting the position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

It made sense, the way he worded the directions. It clicked. The blade was an extension of her arm. Easy enough.

Or so she thought.

It took Gwyn three practice swings with intense focus on not yielding to the instinct to open up her wrist before she managed the maneuver properly.

Frustrated with her slow progress, Gwyn grumbled, “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

And it was true… and she was a little envious, to be honest. She wanted someone to look at her the way Cassian looked at Nesta. With hunger and admiration and encouragement. She wanted it to be Azriel. Her mate.

Azriel laughed, and the sound was infectious. “I’ll give you that.”

She smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

The shadowsinger dipped his head and Gwyn saw the tense line of his shoulders ease. She saw the shadows swarming him dance.

I know, she told them. And he doesn’t. And that’s fine.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said, and his tone was a far cry from the wistful thing it had been when he had first arrived. He started for the exit. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn only nodded and turned back to the ribbon, preparing to strike again. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, and she narrowed her eyes at the strip of fabric that taunted her.

Then Gwyn replayed his instructions, refusing to acknowledge the phantom tug of the thread in between them.

[ataraxianne]

Okay I have this kinda gwynriel headcanon which I think it's pretty cute and I wanted to share

- in acosf Cassian said both Rhys and Azriel were interested in that universal-ish-globe-thing Rhys has in his study but Azriel was the one who liked it the most

- so let's imagine he starts to develop an interest in the galaxies and universes and stars and so on

- like he starts learning things and theories about other worlds and other universes

- he even starts buying a "globe" himself, bigger than the one Rhys has, he buys books and above all a telescope

- because he especially likes stars, for some reason. Because they're bright, they shine even despite all of the darkness around them, and its kinda reassuring to him to see that something so nice and bright can still be there, especially after he himself has spent a lot of time in the dark

- because they're his court symbol. Because those three stars are like he and his brothers, and all he ever wanted was to belong

- he likes galaxies because there is an abundance of stars, of these little bright dots that come all together in groups and even tho he doesnt particularly likes being in great crowds he likes being with his friends, his family. They're his galaxy

- and then one night it's his first night with Gwyn, and they're in his house at Rose Hall, which technically became his mother's house since she had preferred a bit of solitude in all these last years and he didn't mind giving her that and staying most of the times at the House of Wind

- but tonight he didn't want to go elsewhere, it seemed right to be there even tho he had never felt quite at home in that house because of all the time he spent elsewhere and how big and empty sometimes it felt to him

- but maybe being there with a female he liked - loved - so much - with his mate even tho it still seemed too surreal to say such a thing - would have made that house more of a home

- and so there they were, in his house, in his room, in his bed, cuddling after the night, face to face and his shadows were dancing and curling around her face and she was giggling ans grinning, taunting them with her free hand while the other one was resting on his chest

- and it was all so quiet and tranquil but at the same time clear and joyful and his ears had never been filled with such a pleasant sound

- and his shadows seemed to think the same

- and they kept twirling around Gwyn until she turned a bit more her head toward them and the light of the moon coming from the window reflected on her naked body and made her already so bright real eyes shine even more and he couldn't stop staring at her mesmerized and couldn't stop his hand from reaching up her glowing cheekbones and

- "you have galaxies on your face" he said as he caressed her cheeks covered in freckles, in an abundance of them, as many as the stars in the sky

- she turned her head back to him and smiled softly and then it turned into the usual smug she put on when she was taunting him, and he couldn't help smiling back to her because gods, how much she loved her, especially when she did that

- "oh, you should see the rest of my body, Shadowsinger" she said back

- but you play this game in two so "I'm perfectly sure I've seen a lot of that too" he responded, emulating her expression

- at that she smiled again, even more than before and he didn't know how that could have been possible but it was even lighter and brighter and not even the moon and all of the stars could ever have compared to Gwyn's smiles

- smiles that were only for him and he couldn't believe that and he was so weak and abandoned the game too soon and moved to kiss that smile, softly, as it was the most precious and fragile thing in the world and could allowed anything to ruin that

- and it felt so good, so right so right so right and then she was closer to him, hugging him tightly while still kissing and it was as warm as home

- they stayed in that position, intertwined like that even after the kiss had finished, looking in each other's eyes sometimes caressing, sometimes kissing again, always with a tiny smile on their faces - even tho Azriel thought his looked more like a drunken one

- and then Gwyn asked, with that lovely smug back on her face "will you fly me to one of the real galaxies one day?"

- and something clicked in Azriel's brain

- "come with me" he said, and kinda reluctantly broke the hug he was into and started putting something on

- "wait, now? where?" Gwyn asked, curiosity and amusement spreading on her face, but started putting her undergarments back on

- Azriel didn't answer but smiled again and handed her one of his robes

-(he didn't think much about it, it was just for her to cover since it was chilly and maybe she still preferred a bit of coverage, after so many years spent in the Library - but at first it reminded Gwyn of their first meeting, tho the scene change easily and swiftly, as soon as she put it on and felt like in a warm embrace that has his scent)

- she smiled lightly and reached Azriel, who was waiting for her next to the door and together they went out

- it was darker that they thought so they mostly stumbled in the hallways and Az accidentally hit his wing against the wall gaining a harsh look from Gwyn

- "dont you dare wake up your mother now" she hissed even tho he could sense the laugh she was trying to cover (and even tho, if his mother was to wake up, the rumours they provoked in his bedroom minutes ago would have already worked- but he didn't say it to Gwyn)

- he took her hand and lead her to a staircase, and they went up on the higher floor of the house, to one of his favourite rooms there

- as soon as they entered and he lightened up the room something told him that Gwyn might have liked it too

- the room was quiet big, full of all things, along with a couch and a low table, bookshelves who took one full wall, while the other two where almost completely made up of windows, who gave a full vision of the night sky outside

- in front of the windows there were two different globes, one similar to the one Rhys had and another, bigger and more complete than that his brother had

- and then a telescope, already positioned and turned toward the side sky

- Gwyn started moving in the room, cautiously, with her white skirt and his grey robe almost floating around her legs

- she reached the bigger globe and started admiring it, following the writings and drawings on it with his finger and turning around it with her wide eyes open and her mouth in a tight line in silent awe

- and then she started talking, with a melancholic smile and told him how there were lots of astronomy books in the Library but neither globes or telescope, and it was so painful to her and her curious mind not being able to see the incredible things she was reading and how much she relied on her imagination to try seeing at least in her mind that concept of infinity those books gave her

- so Azriel got closer and extended an hand, and walked her up to the telescope and letting her see it all, the stars the galaxies, the endless universe they lived in

- and they started talking

- and it was so relieving to both of them, to talk about something they didn't even know why they were so fond of, but that someone always kept them mesmerized and craving for more knowledge

- but especially talking about it with someone who they know would listen and they weren't kept back because it was not much of an interest for others or because it was pointless to the others general studies

- they spent the night like that, and he showed her books and star maps he collected and she too about books she read and theories she had or shared

- The next morning, Azriel woke up on the couch, charts and maps and open books spread over the table, while the sunset reflected over them and the female asleep in his arms, with his shadows slowly dancing around her and galaxies on her smiling face

IF YOU READ TIL HERE, THANK YOU!! HOPE YOU LIKED IT♡♡♡ If you didn't, sorry if I wasted your time😅

[hacawijo]

Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 2)

Yeah baby, part 2 of a PAINSTAKING close read lol.

Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything he uses the shadows to ESCAPE, they are a coping mechanism, appearing at the door to Rhys’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs. It’s interesting that the shadows specifically report on Elain’s whereabouts here and not earlier, as well as later not reporting on Gwyn.

Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhys’s power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” It is not out of line for Rhys to acknowledge that this was stupid. If for no other reason than that it would hurt Lucien if he saw/felt them.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. Which is the mirror to something that Rhys notes in ACOFAS, that they are similar in their darkness. Because Rhys is really the only person Azriel can be himself with, completely, I think it’s important to acknowledge that this is unprecedented ground for them and specifically for Azriel. This is the first time Azriel can actually voice ANY of these thoughts out loud, and only because Rhys saw them, he did not bring this concern to Rhys himself. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?” Also very not out of line thing to ask. Feyre is the only person Mor has really told about her sexuality, and so to Rhys and co. AND Azriel, nothing about this situation has changed in the past 500 years. The fact that Azriel is able to get over Mor, without that confirmation of her sexuality, because of Elain, is significant I think.

Azriel ignored the question. Hmm yeah, but he can’t keep ignoring this question forever, and that’s another reason he and Elain did NOT kiss in this chapter. He and his family and Mor all need closure regarding their relationship. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Oh boy, I have a lot to say about the number three later on! Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words out loud. NEVER BEFORE DARED TO SPEAK THE WORDS OUT LOUD. This is the first time he’s even verbalizing these thoughts - of COURSE he doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. This is raw emotion being spewed out right now, enhanced by the unresolved tension from his interaction with Elain.

Rhys’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?” So, he says that his two brothers ARE WITH two of those sisters, which is a way to acknowledge the fact that both people in each pair accepted the bond and that it was a mutually built connection. Then he says “the third was given to another” which is actually really different. He’s saying that Elain was given to Lucien by the Cauldron, suddenly one member of that bond is not an active participant - and this is mostly true! Elain has ignored Lucien diligently, and she hinted about her lack of feelings for him when she asked Feyre why he should be entitled to her affections just because of the cauldron and whatever amends he has made. I don’t like Azriel saying that Elain is something to be given as opposed to a person to be connected to, but I’m not sure exactly what it means that he did that. ANYWAY, Rhys really does supply the word deserve, and we have evidence from earlier in this chapter that essentially proves that Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain, anyway. He is having an argument with Rhys, yes, but it almost feels like he’s arguing with himself.

Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.” (THE ONLY TIME ELAIN’S ACTUAL FEELINGS, ACTIONS ARE CONSIDERED IN THIS DISCUSSION BTW) Also, not that he doesn’t answer Rhys’s question. For Azriel, this isn’t necessarily about what HE deserves in this moment, it’s about what Elain wants. Almost certainly, Azriel DOESN’T believe that he deserves Elain, but he sees the injustice of her being forced to accept a bond with someone for political or spiritual/societal reasons. So while to Rhys it may seem like Azriel is is putting Lucien’s claim down in order to boost his own, I actually think Azriel is trying to distinguish a different issue - Elain’s agency. This same thing happened with Mor and Eris. ABSOLUTELY THIS IS NOT ALL LIKE THAT SITUATION BECAUSE LUCIEN IS NOT ERIS!!! I am not trying to compare their behavior. BUT, Azriel would have dueled Eris for Mor’s agency regardless of whether or not she chose to be with him.

“So you’ll what?” Rhys’s voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?” Rhys, I think, misinterpreting Azriel and it’s mostly not Rhys’s fault. Azriel doesn’t communicate well and is not currently communicating well. That being said, I wish he would give Azriel more benefit of the doubt.

Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. HE HADN’T PLANNED ANYTHING, this whole conversation is just like a raw nerve.

Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.” Well come on, now, Rhys, what if she doesn’t want to stay away from him? BE A FEMINIST RHYS, just add, “unless she wants to see you”!

ALSO, DID RHYS TELL FEYRE ABOUT THIS? MY MONEY IS ON NO, AND IF RHYS DIDN’T TELL HER ITS BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WHOLLY DOING THE RIGHT THING BY ELAIN.

“You can’t order me to do that.”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” Another really big sign that this is going to play out Elriel style is the mentioning of the Blood Duel. Chekhov’s gun eh?

“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Yes see? He would have done this regardless of Mor’s feelings toward him. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.

“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.” But hey fun fact Rhys knows that Lucien is almost CERTAINLY not Beron’s son. Interesting to consider in context.

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true. Again, Azriel is dodging Rhys’s points and is honestly being pretty immature right now, but he hasn’t actually said ANYTHING about an intention to pursue Elain with any of this. Rhys has filled in the blanks, and Azriel has responded to smaller aspects of Rhys’s macro-points with which he finds fault. I think this is also because he knows Rhys is right about a lot of the realities of the situation, but he is in the mood to be contrary right now, so he’s fighting back where he can stomach it.

“I know.” Rhys’s eyes flickered. “And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court, but Also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. Rhys’s motivations are based entirely on things that have nothing to do with Elain’s feelings, which is sad. But, they’re not insignificant considerations. Though come on dude you did pretty much enable Hybern’s arrival to Prythian by alienating The Spring Court with Feyre’s escape.“So you will leave Elain alone. YES, ALONE, because Elain probably is PRETTY FREAKIN LONELY If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” Low. Blow.

Azriel snarled softly.

“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.” I do think this is a really ungenerous description of what was happening downstairs with Elain. Their interaction was careful and consensual, we have painstaking detail to prove that, and it was far from panting/animalistic in action.

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. This is another person taking ANOTHER choice away from Elain. I think she may find out about Rhys doing this and I personally think she’s gonna be rightfully pissed.

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out.”

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. With Elain, he is SOMETHING. Because he feels things.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, Further evidence that Azriel never intended to fight Lucien or make a stink over Elain and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it occupied. His shadows had not warned him. I am not sure what it means that his shadows didn’t warn him. It could mean that Gwyn is protected from his shadows/immune to them. It could mean that his shadows wanted him to go see Gwyn - either out of a desire for Azriel to find some peace with her or out of curiosity as to who/what she is?

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

She stopped mid-slice, whirling to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here and—“

“It’s fine. I came here to retrieve something I forgot.” The lie was smooth and cool, as he knew his face was. His shadows peered over his wings at her. They are… wary of her? They’re shy around her?

The young priestess smiled — and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She pointed with her sword at the white ribbon, which seemed to glow silver. Some interesting language here and above (glimmering, glow etc.) to do with light, and again a juxtaposition between light and dark. But not a golden light, a colder/silver light.

“Aren’t you cold?” His breath clouded in front of him.

Gwyn shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”

He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Gaze is definitely a romantically charged word, this is one of the tiny details that makes me unsure about the future nature of their relationship. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. I definitely do not think they are mates. I’m not closing the door on them being romantically involved, I don’t have enough evidence to do that, but I really think that if they were mates, Azriel would have known when he saw her at Sangravah.

Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he’d been the one who’d found her that day at Sangravah. Shades of Cassian’s reactions to Emerie’s wings having been clipped, in ACOFAS. “Happy Solstice,” she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”

Gwyn’s teal eyes I have a lot to say about these 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?” I’ll talk more about this later, but there are a few small moments in the book where it seems like Gwyn might have a crush on Azriel, or some kind of special awareness/interest where he is concerned. I have seen almost no evidence that Az returns those potential feelings, except PERHAPS for the moment where he hears her screech and pays attention. But I think anyone would pay attention if someone screeched? Also he watches reverently as she cuts the ribbon, but that also feels like it would happen regardless of any romantic feelings he might have. But I don’t know for sure!

Sort of. “I forgot something.”

“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. He cares that she not be feeling pain and grief, as he does with anyone he deems good, and that is part of why he offers her the smile, as he clearly says right here. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”

“A comfort to every growing child.”

Azriel’s lips twitched. I think her irreverence matches his sense of humor quite well. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow.

“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. This shadow is acting totally independent of him. She’s asking a simple question of Azriel at the moment, and he CAN’T hear the music he believes that shadow might be dancing to. Lightsinger evidence, I’d say.

“Fine,” he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. “It was nice.” LOL I will say here that Azriel has to make a lot of conscious effort in this interaction. He makes himself respond in a specific way, which is not language that was used to describe his interactions with Elain earlier in the chapter. This could totally just be because he doesn’t know Gwyn that well, and certainly that’s a big part of it, but I think there’s something to be said for the fact that he is still filtering himself here with Gwyn in the quiet.

Not much better. So he asked, “Did you can the priestesses have a celebration?”

“Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”

“I see.” LOL

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. More glowing-type stuff “Do you sing?” I love Gwyn.

He blinked. It wasn’t everyday that people took him by surprise, but... which is great! Elain surprises him with the headache medicine in ACOFAS, Feyre surprises him with her intuition and tenderness throughout. I think this indicates that they will have a significant relationship regardless of its exact nature. “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.” It’s super-duper interesting that they actually discuss the fact that he’s a shadowsinger. When Feyre meets Azriel, she is curious, but specifically doesn’t ask follow-up questions or for expansion on the ability. Why specifically remind us here that Azriel is a shadowsinger and that Gwyn sings? If not to foreshadow something related to the ability and Gwyn?

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

Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” I love Gwyn. She is the reason I now realize a lot of what I’ve been doing in my life is irreverence :P

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she’d ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.” I love this so much. Maybe it is romantic, but I think that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is that it’s completely charming.

“What— with you watching?” It’s actually pretty funny that in order to avoid giving a demonstration of something that makes him vulnerable and puts Gwyn in the role of expert he flips it and makes her demonstrate vulnerability while he is the expert. Gwyn might be quite a bit braver than Azriel in some ways.

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn’t sever the ribbon. SEE? Brave. I love Gwyn.

“Again,” he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson. Distraction is a notable word here. Azriel’s thoughts don’t really ever stray from Elain and his turmoil throughout this interaction, that’s what the word distraction tells us.

Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.

“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground,” Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. “Watch.” He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. “You see how you open up right here?” He corrected his position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”

Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”

Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.” I sense a lot of compatibility, just, again, not sure it’s romantic.

Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. This is another line that I think offers the most evidence for something significant between Gwyn and Azriel. It’s lovely that she has helped to settle something restless in him with the distraction - and I think it’s important to note that it might not have done the same thing had he encountered Emerie or another trainee on the roof. At the same time, maybe it would have. Also love that his shadows like to watch Gwyn. Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence! This all being said, I can’t really think of an SJM romance that is built around a comfort zone. I can think of many friendships that operate that way, but not so much with the romances. There’s usually nervousness and flutters and passion and… restlessness, somewhere in there.

But— sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”

Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. I love Gwyn.

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. This feels VERY much like Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence. His shadows, as this chapter has demonstrated time and again, operate independently of him, and they react to Gwyn’s song. I also think it’s possible that Gwyn is sort of always singing, even when she’s not. Like she glows with song on some level, and that’s what his shadows are reacting to - because I don’t think she’d necessarily actually sing while attempting to cut the ribbon.

He slept as well as could be expected which means pretty much not at all y’all — he makes it clear he never expects to sleep well, but when Azriel returned to the River House to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it. Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. How did the necklace get there??? Did Elain really put it there??? Seems like even more evidence that he assumes too much about her understanding of his feelings. Also, though, it seems really rude/OOC for Elain to do that. She gave up very quickly after he gave her a really thoughtful gift. SOMETHING’S FISHY.

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.

Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. Important to remember that this is one of the longest nights of the year, which means dusk is coming on later than it was when Nesta attended the evening service weeks/months prior- a service that started almost exactly when seven bells rang the time. It is very well possible that Azriel finds himself at the library as the evening service is happening. The one in which Gwyn sings. If she does have some kind of Lightsinger power in her, it may be that he was lured by that power instead of returning the necklace. Even if they always start at 7, he still arrives exactly at 7. The only point against this surmising that I’ve done is that Clotho led the service which Nesta attended, and yet she is here to greet Azriel. Either I’m wrong and the service is not happening at or around this time, OR the service can take place without Clotho occasionally, and this served the interest of the plot so that Az could speak with someone.

He slid the small box across her desk. “If you see Gwyn, would you give this to her?”

Clotho angled her hooded head, and her enchanted pen wrote on a piece of paper. A Solstice gift from you?

Azriel shrugged. “Don’t tell her it came from me.” Yes, it really doesn’t seem super romantic to re-gift a necklace to Gwyn. It just feels sour, if this is the start of a romance between them.

Why?

“Does she need to know? Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.”

That would be a lie.

He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed— of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth. This feels very important. We know VERY LITTLE about Azriel’s story, his past, and his family, and so I want to point out ANY and EVERY nugget we get!

“Look I...” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” I’m not exactly sure what it means that Azriel says this. It could be that he doesn’t want to make a thing of his potential feelings for Gwyn and so tries to deflect with this statement, both to convince Clotho and himself that it’s not about Gwyn. It could also mean that Azriel needed to be rid of the necklace, and wasn’t in the mood to fight with Clotho over an ultimately secondary (to getting rid of the necklace) impulse to give it to someone who provided him comfort and companionship at a time when he needed it.

He waited for Clotho’s pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.

He offered her a grim smile. “I lost the snowball fight today.” HE LOST THE FIRST SNOWBALL FIGHT IN 200 YEARS! And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Gwyn made him feel better the previous night. I think he lost because he is in anguish over the situation with Elain. Again, I understand that anguish shouldn’t necessarily be a romantic thing, but in SJM’s writing it often is. This is a romance series, angst is a thing, stakes are a thing. It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s also not all-the-way unhealthy. He just feels strongly about Elain and there are a lot of obstacles between him and finding a way to resolve those feelings for good or bad.

I am a counselor for folks who have and are dealt/dealing with sexual, gender-based, and interpersonal violence, and if you want me to do an analysis of all of the relationships in SJM’s writing that aren’t wholly healthy, there won’t be any left over. Except for maybe Sartaq and Nesryn. they really do have their shit together. I suspend a fair amount of my disbelief and professional knowledge in reading these books because I love them and they are fictional :) Also, relationships are complicated. It’s pretty rare for me to work with a client that has a cut-and-dry, black-and-white story.

Now, in my PERSONAL NOT PROFESSIONAL experience, shit is messy, and messiness, even in real life, doesn’t always mean something isn’t worth the strife. Though absolutely abuse and assault are a whole other thing. I think it’s really good to think critically about relationship dynamics in fiction, because it’s a safe place to do great learning and reflection. I also think it’s important to consider that the rules of our reality are not necessarily the rules of the reality being written by an author. Maybe you personally find Azriel’s feelings toward Elain (as they have been expressed so far) are beyond redemption, and are unhealthy to a point where the relationship cannot be salvaged. But that is not realistically a reason that the relationship in question won’t happen. Pretty much any negative/toxic assertions that can be leveled against Elriel based on the VERY SMALL amount of first-person perspective we have in the relationship could be leveled against at least a few of SJM’s other endgame couples. Totally happy to get into this more and provide those examples :)

Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth. Tell her a friend left it for her.

He wouldn’t go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... “Fine. Thank you.” Not sure what this means. Maybe just that it takes Az a while to open up to people and call them friends.

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

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. And here we have the most romantic evidence for Az and Gwyn as a couple. Maybe he is falling for her and that’s why he can picture her smile. I really don’t know. I think it could also be that he is happy to be able to make her happy, in recognition of the comfort she gave him the previous evening. Maybe he can picture her because of her potential lightsinger status. Thoughts?

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. The image glowing, again, lightsinger-supporting language.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So now he is referring to Gwyn’s smile here. This is interesting, because Gwyn’s smile wouldn’t necessarily be a secret, but perhaps it is if you think of her as being hidden in the library, or that he’ll know about her smile and her receiving the necklace even though she won’t know that he’s the one who gave it to her. Or maybe he’s drop dead in love with her! Another thing that I don’t think is true given his stony attitude post-Solstice (when Gwyn is very much around) and the fact that he doesn’t seem to react viscerally to Gwyn’s kidnapping until Cassian points out that bad things could be happening to both her AND Emerie, as well as Nesta. He knows Gwyn just as well, if not better at this point, as he knew Elain when he reacted to HER kidnapping in ACOWAR. He was very riled, he was the one who noticed she was gone, he vowed almost immediately to go get her, knowing it might mean certain death (to be fair, he seems to have a bit of a death wish, BUT he’s still a pragmatist and doesn’t try to WASTE his life on things - either they’re essential to the court and/or Prythian’s wellbeing or essential to someone for whom he cares deeply.)

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 4 - Gwynriel

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

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*****

Gwyn slept in the library again that night, unwilling to intrude on normal life at the House, even with Nesta there. She sighed, pouring over another book for Merrill, searching for that one bit of information she needed. Nothing. She placed the book on the ever-growing pile by her side, and pulled another one towards her, resigning herself to staying well past nightfall, if she didn't finish this by morning, Merrill would skin her alive. She lit a candle, then another, pushing back the darkness around her, Azriel had said that it would be safe, but one could never be too careful.

"What are you still doing up?" Gwyn's head shot up at her sister's voice, Nesta breezed down the corridor to claim the chair opposite Gwyn, "You should be asleep."

"So should you," she countered, "I'm just finishing this off, then I'll get some sleep, Hey!" She complained as Nesta swiped the book off the counter, and grimaced as she read the title,

"Ugh, what a travesty,"

"It is actually quite interesting once you get into it a bit," Gwyn insisted,

"I'll pass,"

"What? No smut and it's not acceptable?" She teased, chuckling at Nesta's eye roll, "What are you here for, Nes?" Gwyn asked, finally giving up trying to covertly grab the book back,

"I came to find you, you seemed a bit off at training this morning, and I didn't get to see you yesterday when we got home."

"I'm just tired," Gwyn said, hoping Nesta wouldn't see it for the lie it was,

"Gwyn."

"I'm fine, Nes."

"Az told me what happened with the library's darkness. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just a bit shaken, it didn't hurt me, and Azriel said he thought it was just curious, that it didn't even want to hurt me anyway."

"Are you alright sleeping here?" No. Yes. No. She hadn't gotten any sleep last night from fear, but nothing had come for her, dangerous or otherwise. Azriel hadn't come to check on her.

"It's fine," Nesta narrowed her eyes,

"You're exhausted, Gwyn, did you even sleep at all last night?" Gwyn shook her head, "Come back up to the House, the bedroom you used a couple days ago is still set up for you." She couldn't. Azriel already thought that she was a pathetic mess, with him just across the hall, she'd be tempted to go to him at every shadow, every nightmare. Nesta noticed her hesitation, clasping her hands across the table, "You won't be a nuisance, you know, it's only me, Cassian and Azriel up there at the moment."

"I know. I just, I don't know." Nesta squeezed her hands gently, giving her space to talk, "Azriel's been looking after me ever since, and I don't want to burden him, if I'm there, he'll want to protect me, and I'll be tempted to let him. I don't want to get in the way of anything."

"You're worried we might think you pathetic?" Gwyn shrugged, "Gwyn, you could never be pathetic for wanting some space from something that scared you. Come back to the House, let us help if you need, don't try to be on your own, even if you know it's safe, let us, let me, help."

"Okay." Nesta was right, she did need someone else she really trusted around, just to remind her that she was safe now, even with the darkness confining itself to the lower levels, she was still nervous, another few days and she'd be fine, she just needed to unscramble her nerves a bit, that was all. Gwyn smiled as she let Nesta lead her out of the library, and up to the House.

*****

Azriel paced in front of his fire again, freezing at the sound of a door, and twin feminine laughter, Gwyn was here, Nesta had gotten her to come back. His shadows swirled around, quicker than usual, dancing with the tones of her laughter. He cracked the door open, pretending that they'd woken him, and feigned surprise at seeing Gwyn there,

"Oh, you alright, Gwyn?"

"I didn't sleep well last night, I, well, Nesta thought another couple days up here might ease my nerves a bit."

"Of course, you know we're all here if you need anything, although," he added, grimacing after Nesta's disappearing back, "It might be better not to disturb them though, Cauldron knows what they get up to." Gwyn snorted with laughter, and Azriel's shadows shot out past him to greet her. The danced around her feet and she giggled, trying to pet them, but they just entwined around her hands, pulling her into her room, towards the old piano in the corner. "They want you to sing," Azriel whispered, almost in awe of how his shadows loved her, "They love singing,"

"What should I sing?" She asked, opening the piano, and blowing away the lingering dust there,

"Anything," he breathed, sinking into an armchair, captured by her every movement. All her nervousness vanished the moment her hands touched the keys, a gentle melody flowing through the air, soft and calm, but underneath it, she used sharps and flats. It wasn't like anything Azriel had ever heard before, something was different, she was different. When she opened her mouth to sing, his heart cracked and reforged, the grief in her voice, for what she had loved and lost, and the joy for the love she had found, the sisters she had chosen, her place in the world that she had found. She lifted her head, not even noticing the way his shadows eddied and flowed with the music, not noticing his own foot tapping along to the melody, the tension in his muscles as he resisted the urge to go sit next to her, to pour his own heart into the music.

The song changed to one he knew, and Azriel joined in, their voices blending perfectly as they had when she had found him on the roof. She sang several octaves higher than him, but still, her voice and his entwined perfectly, as if they were made to sing together, made for the duet now floating through the air, sending his shadows spiraling almost out of control, until they drifted towards him,

She's the one,

They whispered, coming back to rest on his shoulders,

How can she be? She probably never wants to look at a male ever.

He countered, she was so happy, he wouldn't risk breaking that fragile happiness,

She looks at you.

He almost choked, his voice faltering for a moment, she what?

She looks at you.

The shadow repeated,

She looks at you in training, she's trying not to look at you now, she hoped you would go to her last night.

She's been avoiding me,

No. She's worried that she's been a burden the past few days, she wants more from you.

The shadow vanished, leaving him reeling with its revelations, and Gwyn finished the song, turning back to him,

"Did they like it?" She asked, as if there were any doubt,

"Yes. They loved it." She smiled, and closed the piano gingerly, "Gwyn?" She fixed him with her gaze, her eyes bright, and wide as they focused on him, "Why didn't you stay last night?" She shrugged,

"I thought I'd be fine,"

"Gwyn. Were you worried that you'd be in the way?" She glanced away,

"Um, no?"

"You could never be in the way," she sank onto the bed beside him, "I like having you here, I hardly see you otherwise."

"That's just because Merrill runs me ragged, and she's making up for lost time with the workload now." When she turned back, a lock of hair fell in her eyes, and before he really registered what he was doing, Azriel reached up to brush it back behind her ear, freezing at the feel of her face on his hand. She didn't flinch from his touch, no, she leaned into it almost imperceptibly, smiling softly at him,

"I should go," he stood, and Gwyn shrank away a little, exactly what he had hoped to avoid,

"Yeah, okay, I'll see you in the morning." She turned to find a nightgown and Azriel silently made his way out of the room, cursing himself for his stupidity, he had made her do that. He had made her feel bad, in some way, he had upset her, and he hated it, more than anything. He leaned his head against the wall, as if he could still reach her through the stone. Were his shadows right? She wanted more from him? He couldn't for the life of him think why.

*****

When Gwyn turned back around, Azriel was gone. She was foolish to think that it had meant anything, he had just been being kind, that was it. Her hair had been messy, and he was being kind, nothing more. Still, she couldn't help stare at the door, almost hoping that if she stared at it enough, he would come back. She waited for an hour, and he didn't come back, even his scent was fading as she finally forced herself to go to sleep.

Azriel didn't show for breakfast, and Gwyn tried desperately to distract herself, but even Cassian's jokes didn't manage for long,

"Az said you'd been starting on archery."

"What?" Cassian was still looking at her, "Oh, yes, Emerie and I started a few days ago, but we need to get a brace made for Emerie's wings because she can't move them properly. If you want to come, Nes, the appointment's later today." Nesta grinned, and nodded,

"Managed to hit the target yet then?"

"I'd like to see you do any better!" Gwyn muttered, earning a laugh from Nesta,

"Don't worry, Gwyn, I'm sure you're better than me, after all you've been practicing."

"One of us had to, you're falling behind now, while you two were off having a weeks worth of sex, some of us were still training." Cassian coughed to cover up a laugh,and Nesta glared at him,

"I didn't see you complaining."

"Oh no," Gwyn laughed, feigning worry, "Did I get you in trouble, Cass?" He rolled his eyes,

"It's alright, I'll just make you run more in training today." Gwyn laughed, and headed to her room to change into her leathers, noticing Nesta's sideways glance at her mate, it was probably better just to leave them alone for a bit.

When they finally arrived at training, moments before the priestesses, Gwyn chuckled at the blush still staining Nesta's cheeks, nudging her side when she joined her in warming up,

"Oh shut up." She tried to sound fierce, but lapsed into giggles,

"Mmhmm," Gwyn hummed, "Can't go five minutes you damn animals." She laughed, and dodged a gentle nudge from her sister, light shining in her eyes as she glanced back across to Cassian, who grinned, and pulled his hair back, winking at Nesta when she flushed again. Gwyn stifled another laugh, and set off to do her warm up laps of the ring. She glanced around again when she reached the archery range, still set up from a couple of days ago. Azriel still wasn't here, she narrowed her eyes, but Cassian didn't look worried, maybe he was hiding something. "Nesta!" She hissed, "Is everything alright, with the court? Just, Az isn't here, did he get sent on a mission or something?"

"Oh. He's just a the River House with Rhys and Feyre, there were some worrying reports from his spies in Illyria. Don't worry, he'll be back soon, it won't take long, he headed up before breakfast." Gwyn wasn't sure why the wave of relief that washed over her was so foreign, but so familiar at the same time. She smiled, and picked up a bow to practice,

"That's good, another war would be terrible."

"That's what they're trying to avoid, I think. I'll ask Cass later once he's spoken to Azriel." Gwyn nodded, and handed Nesta a bow,

"Let's see what you're made of, Archeron." As it turned out, Nesta wasn't a bad shot, she certainly wasn't a sharpshooter, but Gwyn was glad of her extra days of training, so that they were on a par with each other. She was so focused on beating Nesta that she didn't notice the wingbeats above her head, didn't notice when Azriel touched down on the training ring, stalking straight across to Cassian, and pulling him aside.

Nesta loosed another arrow, the head striking right next to the center, but just outside the bullseye. Gwyn drew an arrow, it was all or nothing, they were tied for points now, she had to make a bullseye. She nocked the arrow, staring straight down at the target, her fingers automatically latching onto the string, and drew the bow, her fingers resting next to her cheek. She released half a breath, and loosed the arrow, staring after it as it flew straight and true, right into the center of the bullseye. She whooped and turned triumphantly to Nesta,

"I win!"

"No!" Nesta squealed, "Rematch! You got lucky!"

"I did not." Gwyn huffed, "I'm better than you." She crooned, becoming vaguely aware of a presence watching her, she pivoted on her heels, and her gaze immediately locked with Azriel's, still standing with Cassian, but clearly not paying attention to him.

*****

Gwyn's whoop of joy drew his attention, leaving Cassian talking to himself as he considered the best way to handle the rebellious Camp Lords. He froze as she turned towards him, relief in her eyes, but also a tinge of sadness, idiot, he was such an idiot, whatever he had done last night was still upsetting her.

Talk to her.

A shadow whispered,

What if she doesn't want to talk to me?

He demanded, breaking the eye contact, unable to face even that little tinge of sadness in her gaze. He'd made it worse, she turned back to Nesta, shoulders slumping slightly, and glanced back at him once before accepting a rematch.

Go and talk to her.

The shadows demanded, all of them, all at once.

And say what?

Hello.

Very helpful, thank you.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and patted Cassian on the shoulder,

"I - uh, I'm gonna check how the girls are getting on," he didn't wait for Cassian to respond as he made his way towards the archery range, unable to control his nervousness, which worsened as soon as Nesta saw him, and realized that Cassian was on his own now. She immediately ran off towards him, and Azriel watched for a moment as Cassian folded her into his side, repeating everything Azriel had just told him. Gwyn laughed as she watched her friend sprint off, but paused at the sight of Azriel. He swallowed, taking the last few steps towards her, "Hey." Pathetic. This was absolutely pathetic.

"Hey." She turned back to the range, but Azriel stepped around her, keeping within her eye line,

"Are you alright? Last night you seemed upset, and just now."

"I'm fine, Azriel."

"Did I upset you somehow?" She shrugged, turning to draw an arrow, completely ignoring him, "Gwyn, please, what are you upset about?" She shook her head,

"I don't want to discuss anything here. After training." She took a deep breath, and, was that a hint of nervousness about discussing whatever she wanted to discuss? It couldn't be. What if the shadows were right? They couldn't be right. But they had never been wrong. He ran a hand through his hair,

"Okay," he could work with that, after training, presumably in private." He nodded, and stepped back to watch her shoot. Her technique was excellent, not perfect, but excellent, but she still wasn't hitting the bullseye, always just above it. "Here," he couldn't resist touching her, just to lift her elbow slightly, "Move your hand up a little, it'll drop the arrow lower, make an adjustment and stick with it for a few shots, then adjust again if you need." Gwyn nodded, drawing in a breath, a slightly unsteady breath if he wasn't mistaken, and released the string. The arrow flew straight, burying itself into the edge of the bullseye, "Go again, keep you aim the same." Again the arrow embedded right on the edge of the bullseye ring,

"Should I lift my hand more?" Gwyn turned her head to face him, and he fumbled for words momentarily, staring into her eyes,

"Yes, yeah, just a little." She did so, and the arrow flew home this time, and again, and again, and again. Gwyn emptied her quiver, and whooped with delight again, earning amused looks from some of the other priestesses, and an answering whoop from Nesta. The two females ran towards each other, falling to the floor as they embraced, giggling as they scrambled back to their feet. Gwyn's laugh, there was something about it that drew him in, something he had never felt before, not with anyone, not even Mor, and certainly not Elain. She grinned at him as she noticed his gaze, and he grinned back, his shadows leaping for joy at the look on her face.

Azriel stayed behind after training to clear up, leaving Cassian to start on some research with Nesta, and work out what to do about the situation in Illyria. Gwyn was still waiting to talk to him, and he apologized for keeping her waiting when he got back to her,

"Don't apologize for doing your job. You wanted to talk about something?"

"You were upset last night." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway, "Why? Did I do something to hurt you?" Please, say it was something else,

"Not really." Uh oh, not really, he'd fucked up. "It's just me being silly really, don't worry."

"Gwyn. What happened?"

"I - uh, when you tucked my hair behind my ear, um," she paused, and in the silence, Azriel could hear her heart racing, "You sort of snatched your hand away, I don't know, I just thought that maybe you didn't want any contact with me." There were tears, actual tears shining in her beautiful eyes as she looked at him, and he clasped her hands in his,

"Never. I was worried that you wouldn't want me to touch you outside of training, that a male touching you would scare you."

"Another male, perhaps, but not you, never you. I have never been scared of you, even when you killed those males." He knew who she was referring to, "I - I want that, Az."

"What?" he breathed, not quite believing it.

"I want you to be comfortable with being normal with me, I trust you. You're my friend. I don't want you to worry that you might scare me." Friend. The word clashed through him, but he knew there wouldn't be more, possibly never would, not with Gwyn. He smiled though,

"I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that," he murmured, and held his arms out, letting her decide if she wanted contact. She smiled, and threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms gently around her, breathing in her scent until she stepped back,

"I smell, I should bathe, I'll see you later." He debated telling her that she smelled great, but just nodded,

"See you later."

*****

Gwyn didn't look back as she walked away, too scared that if she did, she would run back to him, and tell him that she had lied. She hadn't missed his slight pause when she had said friend, but she was scared, more than she would admit, to tell him. Scared that she wouldn't be able to resist tidying his hair, still ruffled from his own fingers running through it, scared that she wouldn't be able to resist holding on to him, and never letting go, telling him that he deserved everything, that he was twice the male that anyone who had hurt him would ever be, that he was a good person.

Perhaps she should speak to Nesta. But then again, Nesta's style of flirting was just insults, and Gwyn could never pull that off, besides, Azriel wasn't Cassian, that sort of approach wouldn't work. And Emerie, well, she had no idea about flirting, well, with males anyway.

Gwyn slipped into the bath, her thoughts still racing, and didn't get out until the bathwater had turned cold, and she was shivering. She caught sight of the clock as she stepped out, shit, she was supposed to meet Nesta and Mor with Emerie to get to the healer's appointment in ten minutes. She threw a set of robes on, not paying much attention, and quickly straightened herself up as as ran to meet them.

Emerie grinned and waved as Gwyn appeared, but quickly turned back to smile at Mor as the female said something that made even Nesta snort in amusement. Mor held a hand out for her, and Gwyn in turn gripped Nesta's as they winnowed out to a familiar building,

"I'll see you all in a bit," Mor said as they arrived, slightly distracted, and Emerie smiled,

"Thanks again for bringing us,"

"Yeah, no worries," Mor's attention slid back to the Illyrian female, and she grinned, "have fun, I guess? See you in a bit," Gwyn waved as she walked away, and turned to face the healer's shop,

"Let's go."

[blueunoias]

Behind the Mask: Chapter 1

A/N: First chapter! Very sad and angsty I may have gone a little crazy but I hope you all enjoy all the same. I'm pretty proud of it so far :)

Chapter 1: Fragile Flower

Nesta shivered in the cold, her frail Fae body barely capable of keeping her body temperature warm. Even her own body worked against her, and she was the only one to blame for it.

As for everything else, Nesta was always to blame. Everything had been her fault. If only she had been better, tried harder. Behaved like they wanted her too, then maybe she wouldn’t be in the position she is now.

Nesta cursed the gloves on her hands, she had tried to sew them herself on her own with cheap materials she bought when she dared to go into town. She had tried to make herself useful but the only thing she managed was to freeze her fingers off.

Winter was brutal in Velaris it seemed. Or maybe it had only been brutal for her, for her in her simple clothes barely managed to keep her warm but it wasn’t as if she truly needed to battle the cold she rarely ever left her apartment only on the on the recent occasions that she needed to stock up on reading material or go to the Library.

No one ever questioned the books Nesta took in and out of the Library, none of the priestesses looked at Nesta strangely with the books she piled high on the table she sat on most days.

Except for one priestess with mermaid red hair and bright, inquisitive turquoise eyes who seemed to keep an eye on Nesta.

It seemed the female was the only person that paid attention to Nesta these days, even if it was out of curiosity or slight pity and concern, Nesta secretly felt something akin to warmth whenever Gwyn brought her a book or sat with her for sometime doing her own work.

Nesta spent most of her days in the Library after she stopped drinking.

After the war she would frequently drink herself numb on wine and ale, but after a while the alcohol stopped doing its job and Nesta no longer needed the poisonous nectar to numb her and the power boiling inside her, burning at her fingertips with silver flames.

When alcohol no longer worked to stop the pain, to stop everything from exploding like the ticking bomb that she was, Nesta began going to the Library.

Clotho was kind enough and welcoming enough that Nesta continued to come back and Gwyn began to search Nesta out and wove herself into her path by sitting with her at her table.

Not once did Nesta snap at her, or snarl, or tell her to go away. She only blinked in disbelief every time the kind priestess sat with her with a small gentle smile pressed on her face. It made Nesta wonder how a priestess, such as her, in the Library could still smile after the trauma and pain that put them there in the first place. She surely couldn't

“Why do you always stare at me in shock? Like you don’t believe I exist.” She had asked Nesta after a while of sitting in silence that fated day, finally deciding to speak to the other young female after a week of sitting together in silence.

It took Nesta a long moment to respond wondering if she heard Gwyn correctly, if it was even her that was being spoken to, let alone with a tone that was soft and sweet. No one spoke to Nesta with gentleness, only Elain, but Elain stopped talking to her long before the end of the war.

“Why do you sit with me?” She had tried to counter but there was no bitterness or bite, Nesta didn’t have it in her anymore. Instead her voice was small and cracked.

There was no more fight, the viper that struck to protect herself was gone. And there was no one to protect her anymore, if there was anyone to even begin with. Nesta was truly alone and defenseless in the world, in this new life.

Nothing. You are nothing.

Gwyn had simply frowned, a frown that was composed of more sadness and confusion than irritation. Very unlike what she was used to.

“I wanted company. You seemed nice and quiet enough that I thought you would be a pleasant companion.” The priestess had responded swiftly and promptly, only sending Nesta down a tunnel of more confusion.

Nice and quiet were words that had never been used to describe her. It wasn’t that Nesta didn’t think herself nice, she simply never truly allowed herself to be, not to many people at least.

Her kindness had always been reserved for Elain, her sister nurtured the amount of love Nesta allowed herself to give, it made it easy to protect and love Elain more openly than how she loved Feyre.

Feyre was so much like her in many ways, they both burned with anger and hatred. But where Feyre was a small flame, Nesta was an entire forest set ablaze. It was easier to replace the love she felt for her youngest sister with cruelty, to put on that pretense.

But Nesta would go through that journey to the wall over and over again for eternity if it meant actually saving her sister, even if it had shown the lengths and love she felt.

Yet somehow, it wasn’t enough for Feyre. It hadn’t been enough. Nothing she did was enough. Elain was easy. Feyre in her own right was also an easy person to love. Unlike Nesta. Nesta felt too much, more than anyone else, and it was a curse with no cure.

So Nesta built a fortress of ice, walls of steel, words of venom to prevent anyone threatening from coming too close. To stop herself from hurting more than she already feels everyday, from hating herself too much and from loving too hard.

She felt so utterly misunderstood, she wondered if she was wrong, that she truly was just simply a cruel person hiding behind nothing but a stupid mask, that she had no reason to feel as broken and defeated as she felt. She was just a waste and a sorry excuse for a life as a friend once told her many months ago.

Nesta didn’t speak another word to Gwyn a while after that brief interaction, she kept her head down, to stop her eyes from lining with silver brewing from her aching thoughts, to stop her emotions from boiling over and spilling all over the pertinent ancient texts before her.

Gwyn had bid her goodbye and hello every single time after that. Eventually the half Fae and Nymph as Nesta had learned had begun to help Nesta with her diligent quest for research and slowly the two built up a kind of friendship that only two clearly unique traumatized females could form.

They didn’t talk much about what happened to them but more so on other things, random things that Gwyn would begin to wonder out loud causing Nesta’s lips to twitch slightly in amusement. It was the closest she had ever gotten to joy since the war.

Gwyn slowly over the few weeks since she first sat with Nesta, became a friend to her, an ally perhaps, but she always feared if Gwyn saw who and what Nesta really was, the unforgiving monster hiding behind, that she would leave, run away or give up on her.

Just like everybody else. Not that she really gave them a chance.

Fear rumbled deep down within her and in those moments Nesta felt like running away but instead she clung to Gwyn and Gwyn did to her because they had no one else, only each other. And in her shattered broken world the priestess provided an escape and void where she could break from the recurring nightmare of reality and feel something other than hollow sadness and pain in her veins.

In fact, she felt a bit alive only in very brief tiny intervals did time and the punishing world allow her a semblance of uplifting heart beat.

But she hadn’t been to the Library in a week. Her mood had been foul and depressing with bad memories resurfacing in anticipation for this dinner.

It took every muscle and bone for her to walk the way to Feyre’s beautiful grand home.

She reached a point where she was afraid she wasn’t going to make the whole journey that she was going to collapse from exhaustion and she didn’t mind it one bit. Worse part it completely unfazed her, didn’t terrify her the way she processed and valued her life.

Her entire life, her life was valued as a woman, as a wife, as a sister, all diminished to practically nothing.

Now making her way up the steps to her sisters’ new home Nesta wished deep down she could have Gwyn with her, her sweet reassuring voice, that stare that gave Nesta a bit of hope that also made her feel so young and naive again. To the girl who truly believed in the fairytales she read. To the girl who had hope of seeing the world.

That Nesta withered and died many years ago.

If only she could tell Gwyn, but Nesta could never confide in and open up to her new friend like that. How disgusting would she think her, a girl so cruel, so horrible, drinking till she drunk and numb, using alcohol and anger as a solution, leaving her younger sister to save her family while she did nothing.

Even if she didn’t do that anymore and it had been two months since she last drank, the same night she went to Feyre’s dinner and the ridicule had ensued only that this time the alcohol hadn’t stopped the pain, hadn’t stopped her from needing to replace the burnt handle of her door, hadn’t stopped the tears and sweat from running down her face when she crawled into her pathetic excuse for a bed.

Her solution had finally reached its expiry date. Somehow that power inside Nesta grew stronger and that night boiling with anger, had caused something to implode within her, waking up the monster living inside. Whatever she had taken from the Cauldron was powerful and pulsing loudly within her.

Now she was back, after two months, the same place that brought her to ruin, that pushed her limits too far that alcohol could no longer contain the danger.

She had improved even if slightly, she had been doing something more with her life other than drinking. It felt strange, the past ten months since the war was a blur of drinking, numbness and nightmares for eight months of her life.

The past two months Nesta felt longer, she felt lighter, but she was also constantly overwhelmed with pain and she felt things deep down in her soul, feelings that didn’t feel her own, like an extended part of her. It was hard not to acknowledge and to ignore but she did her best to do so.

The memories sometimes struck her like a sharp blade, piercing her broken heart, twisting and twisting till she was a sobbing shaking mess. A voice taunted her from time to time, it went silent with intoxication in her veins but now it was louder and clearer than before poisoning the thoughts in her mind.

She hoped they would be quiet now. That they would leave her alone. That her trauma would allow her to behave normally for one night.

Do not flinch. Do not react. Stay under control.

The mantra chanted in her head, over and over again as she reached the door ring on the doorbell.

“Nesta.” Feyre had the gall to sound surprised. Nesta had always shown up to everything Feyre invited her to. She tried. She might not have stayed long, but she came. She was only so infrequently invited under rare occasions such as now.

Nesta nodded meekly. “Happy birthday.” She said handing Feyre a book she thought her sister might appreciate on strategizing battles and leadership from powerful leaders in the history of Prythian.

She also had many gifts for Elain she wanted to give her.

But she decided against it, in fear she would react very badly to the reminder of her old life. And she seemed to be doing so much better now. She seemed happier with Feyre, it made sense why they chose each other.

Nesta would only ruin all that peace, a cruel disruption, a thunderstorm attacking a peaceful city. With her worthless gifts Elain probably didn’t need or want. No one wanted anything from her.

Feyre blinked, obviously not expecting anything, because Nesta wasn’t capable of kindness, she wasn’t capable of anything and her expression reaffirmed what Nesta knew, what they all thought of her.

She tried not to care. She always tried not to care. But her pounding aching heart always betrayed her. She was pathetic and insecure, not that anyone could really tell. She hid well behind her mask, practiced and taught by her mother when she was still alive.

It was the one thing she inherited from Maura Archeron besides the icy blue eyes she shared with her youngest sister.

“It was yesterday–”

“I know.” Nesta interrupted, her blank stare daring her sister to say something more. To apologize or provide a lame excuse for not inviting Nesta.

Nesta tried to feign not being hurt. It was so stupid how much it pained her. Not the humiliation of showing up today but that Feyre no longer wanted Nesta with her on a special day.

That is how far they had come since the war.

Feyre was silent before she opened her mouth again.

“It was a surprise party. I didn’t know they hadn’t invited you, Nesta. I–”

Her sister was silenced when Nesta looked away, trying to end the conversation, she didn’t want to hear it. She pushed away too. She distanced herself. She wasn’t a person they wanted around and Nesta learned that early on before they could really kick her out, before they had the chance to push her away for good.

It was also safer this way. Everyone was safer this way.

“May I come in?”

“Yes, yes of course.” Feyre said far too enthusiastically that it leaked with false ebullience, allowing Nesta to pass through.

Feyre led Nesta to the dining room where she could hear the loud obnoxious voices, smell the wine that made her shiver with sickness.

This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

“What’s that?” She could practically hear the stupid frown on his rugged handsome face as she walked behind Feyre into the threshold of the room. She always avoided his side of the room, his stare, his presence. It was easier for her that way.

“Oh. It’s a gift.” Feyre’s unsure tone made Nesta want to roll her eyes but she didn’t have the energy to react at the predictability.

“What?” Another voice, she recognised as Rhysand.

Feyre had no time to answer because the room went dead silent when they saw her emerge behind her sister.

Recognition of who gave the gift turned into glares of hatred from Mor, Rhysand and Amren. Everyone else remained neutral, blank faced except Feyre who tried to lighten the mood with a pretty smile.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Nesta.” Her sister's mate patronized her slight tardiness, as if they would want her to be early. Just anything to insult her with was good enough.

“I walked all the way here. I wasn’t offered a better mode of transportation.” She said simply the bite died out of her along with the words. She was just exhausted.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to go for a ride, all you had to do was ask.” Cassian grinned wolfishly with a wink, and she knew his hazel eyes were glinting with trouble only the Illyrian could promise.

The only times he ever spoke directly to her was to make a rather mockery of them both with a salacious or flirtatious comment, teasing and taunting her to the ends of the world.

Whether he was hoping for her to snap back and reprimand him or return his advances, she was never sure. But she never reacted, and it always seemed to leave his jaw more tense than before.

Cassian’s comment seemed to go unnoticed as they blinked again at her, perhaps they were finally realizing the viper was gone and replaced with a fragile broken minded Fae of a girl.

“Nesta, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that at all. You must be freezing." Feyre tried to apologize only for her voice to be interrupted by Mor and her hostility and cold tone, she reserved especially for Nesta.

“You walked.” She drawled bored as she draped her arm around Cassian, as a way to ‘comfort' him from Nesta or make her jealous, it was always difficult to tell.

Nesta simply nodded her head, the snowflakes in her golden brown hair already melted away from the warmth of their large beautiful home.

Taking the empty place next to Azriel, who dipped his chin at her respectfully, across from Elain who didn’t even look up at her, who didn’t even smile or acknowledge her sister in any way, Nesta sat down stiffly, already feeling the prejudice and judgement radiating in the air.

Nesta accepted the defeat that it would ever improve.

Yet, she could feel the way the rest of the group stared Nesta down, catching her scent or rather the lack of alcohol. She did her very best to ignore it.

She despised the way Feyre kept glancing over at her when they began eating, constantly, the way her sister's eyes burned into her skull, this was worse than when they completely pretended she wasn’t even there.

It made it harder to pretend she was eating. If she took any more bites she would be sick.

“Look Nesta, we have your favorite.” Mor taunted holding up what she assumed to be a very expensive luxurious bottle of wine, but it only sent haunted shivers down her spine making her want to retch her insides out.

She flinched, any color from her face going pale as the snow outside. No one seemed to notice her strange behavior or call Mor out. No one ever would. It was always them against her.

“Wine, Nesta?” This was Rhysand humor and amusement laced his voice, Nesta wanted to scream and rip off the expression.

“No,” she shook her head, her voice barely heard, so small and weak. No one noticed that either.

Slowly as time passed, Nesta cowered further into herself, keeping silent to her tumultuous thoughts as she normally did, trying to withhold her reactions to the booms of laughter, the crackling fire. Tried not to flinch at the reminder, the pain, the ache burning in her soul.

She felt like a fragile winter flower under their gaze slowly but surely withering away in the cold cruel snow. Being buried by her own thoughts and pain. Suffocating in the Cauldron over and over again in her nightmares. And she still couldn't take a normal bath without having a panic attack, not that Feyre ever cared to ask.

Nesta.

No. No. No. Not here. She thought. Not that voice.

It felt like black toxic tar weaving through mind, heavy and painful. It haunted her nightmare sometimes. Sometimes during the day. The dark voice would taunt her. Following her. The louder it got the closer it felt to them finding her. To taking her. To hurting them.

You know they wouldn’t care if something happened to you. Yet, you care if something happens to any of them. How foolish of you, girl.

Be quiet. She told the voice in her head, screaming and fighting for it to get out. Leave.

I will find you Nesta. The wind calls your name. And when I do. I will take everything from you. And I will take back what you took from the Cauldron and none of them could stop me.

The voice laughed devilishly, speaking what she thought to be the truth. She was dangerous, she needed to stay away.

I made a promise to someone to ruin you until you were nothing. To punish you. To hurt you. I plan to keep that promise, you worthless girl.

Nesta’s fingers dug into the armrests of her chair. Her head pounded with pain, like her skull was being smashed into a wall. Nesta was a walking target and her hunter somehow hit the mark.

It would all be your fault. You will be to blame for what happens when we come for you.

You will be to blame for the destruction and the pain.

She flinched again at the sound surrounding her and the timber voice in her head, the voices around her blurring, laughter becoming a taunt fueling the emotions inside of her, they were laughing at her, her eyesight went silver. Fear and rage cascaded down her body and she began to shiver uncontrollably.

If only she could've gotten rid of them sooner.

Everything suddenly went into a dark silence.

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Book Review: A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas

Rate: 4.5/5

Nesta Archeron has always been prickly-proud, swift to anger, and slow to forgive. And ever since being forced into the Cauldron and becoming High Fae against her will, she's struggled to find a place for herself within the strange, deadly world she inhabits. Worse, she can't seem to move past the horrors of the war with Hybern and all she lost in it. The one person who ignites her temper more than any other is Cassian, the battle-scarred warrior whose position in Rhysand and Feyre's Night Court keeps him constantly in Nesta's orbit. But her temper isn't the only thing Cassian ignites. The fire between them is undeniable, and only burns hotter as they are forced into close quarters with each other. Meanwhile, the treacherous human queens who returned to the Continent during the last war have forged a dangerous new alliance, threatening the fragile peace that has settled over the realms. And the key to halting them might very well rely on Cassian and Nesta facing their haunting pasts. Against the sweeping backdrop of a world seared by war and plagued with uncertainty, Nesta and Cassian battle monsters from within and without as they search for acceptance-and healing-in each other's arms.

 This is the fourth book in Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses world. If you haven’t read the first three books – Go read them! Not only are they amazing stories, but this book will not make much sense without the background, even if it is more of a spin-off from the core trilogy. 

I really liked this book! It has a little bit of everything: drama, quests, banter, romance, danger, spice (okay more than a little bit there). Its over 750 pages long, and I spent almost every free moment I had reading it and was finished in three days. That’s saying something since I’m not a particularly fast reader. I had worried about getting into a story that was not only not focused on my favorites from the previous books, but one of the two POVs was probably my least favorite character of the entire series (hello Nesta). By the time I finished it, however, I was cheering for every success these characters had! I seriously recommend this book, especially to anyone interested in a story that has a slower build but is still packed with wonderful moments that will have you at the edge of our seat.

Aaaand that’s really all I have for the non-spoiler section! Full review below.

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Since finishing the book, I’ve sat down and really thought about the plot of the story. As Maas’s books are typically very action packed, I had gone into this book expecting the same. While still having some real tense action scenes, a lot less happens in this book which is surprising considering its size. I think that is telling of Maas’s talent in her character development and her ability to make a story of recovery and growth as riveting as one filled with war and battles. The majority of the story is focused on Nesta and her healing from the traumatic events she had gone through during the previous books. I truthfully never really liked Nesta, and I found her to be incredibly selfish and harsh. Even in the beginning of ACOSF, she is always angry and lashing out at everyone around her. While it had me wanting to pull out my hair, I ended up loving that we get that unapologetic broken character in the beginning. We follow Nesta throughout her entire arc of recovery. We see her in her lowest of lows and are right alongside her as she learns how to work through her traumas and pain and face the person she has become. I especially loved the focus on healing broken relationships and accepting both responsibility and forgiveness. Not everything is perfectly healed by the end, but we do see Nesta walking a better path having accepted all parts of herself, both dark and light. A lot of time is spent on Nesta trying to push down that darkness and death that she associates with her powers. Seeing her not only accept that part of her but finally understand how she can exist beyond it was so impactful, and I think it does a good job of holding a mirror to similar feelings that I believe a lot of people have experienced. I really loved the hike and breakdown that followed her explosion at Amren’s place and the reveal to Feyre. The way mental health is represented in this book is refreshing, and so many parts of it felt so raw and real. It really struck a chord with me, and moved me in many ways as I was reading. It may sound cliché, but reading about Nesta learning to heal helped me acknowledge and accept parts of myself.

While Cassian is half of the POV in this book, it truly does feel like Nesta’s story. That being said, I did love the parts of Cassian we had. I loved reading his struggle with wanting to be there for Nesta in the ways she needed but also needing to protect himself. I adored how he truly saw her and always accepted every part, even all the ugly spots. When he felt the mating bond snap into place but left knowing Nesta couldn’t deal with it at that time, gah I was dying. Cassian never once pitied her. He wanted to help and protect her, but he knew it was a journey she had to do herself. He is a leading force in Nesta’s growth and constantly offers both his own strength and vulnerability. I really enjoyed seeing the love grow between them, especially as Nesta learned to open herself more to the possibility of healing and finding her own place and purpose. I just really can’t get enough of them together! I also really loved the moments we got between the three brothers – I was surprised by how much I had wanted those scenes. It was exciting to get a closer glimpse into that aspect of Cassian’s life, and the bond between him, Az, and Rhys.

I can’t avoid at least mentioning the smut in this book. All I will really say is this book has really stepped fully into the adult category. The scenes were extremely intense, steamy, and pretty descriptive. If you were looking for that typical Maas smuttiness aspect, be prepared for this book to be several notches above what we’ve seen previously (and a lot more of it).  

I could seriously talk about this book forever, but as I already fear I’ve begun to ramble, I’m just going to list some of my favorite things I haven’t mentioned yet below:

 The House!! I loved the relationship that developed between it and Nesta. Their interactions really became conversations, and I loved the idea of a sentient object becoming a core force in Nesta’s life. Also only-bubble baths and a baby pegasus are always a win.

Every snarky comment between Nesta and Cassian. Extremely entertaining and witty.

The entire Court of Nightmare scene with the dancing. So powerful and I loved seeing Nesta in her element.

The process of Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn coming together. I really loved reading about their training together, and the chapters once they meet up in the Blood Rite were some of my favorites. Their mini romance book club was precious.

A Rhys and Feyre baby! While I had some issues with this plot point, I still enjoyed the place it had in the story. The reactions of Cassian and Azriel was one of my favorite moments of the entire book.

The introduction to what I assume is the next major villain for the rest of the series. While it didn’t feature too largely until the end of the book, I think it did a good job setting up the situation for future installments.

The search for the Dead Trove. I really loved each moment we get, especially with the kelpie during the search for the mask. Good stuff

A few things I didn’t love:

I didn’t love how often Mor was gone. I know she did not really have a role in this story, but it would have been nice to see her more in passing as we did other characters.

The whole early delivery aspect of the pregnancy plot line. It felt a little plot convenient to me, and no explanation was ever given. I did like Nesta’s sacrifice and that moment, but I didn’t like how and why it happened.

I didn’t love that Rhys was trying so hard to hide the truth about the pregnancy from Feyre. I can kind of understand it when thinking about how he knew they were all probably going to die (that dumb bargain what the heck) but it is still stupid. Not the biggest issue to me, just not my favorite thing.

How much time we spent focused on the queen only to have her completely removed from the entire story in a blink. I know Nesta was insanely powerful at the time, but I just wanted…more.

I went into this book with very different expectations from what I got. I really enjoyed reading it, and I will definitely be getting the next book when it is published. Whether you loved or hated Nesta in the earlier books, I would recommend giving this one a chance. It sure changed my mind! Let me know your thoughts, I would love to discuss it!