#gwynriel fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starsreminisce · 1 month

Note

“is it bad that I HC that Gwyn and Lucien end up bonding over being two AC exiles for Az and Elain to be like... why are they even friends? Just for them to be like "dude, we're cousins"

what I would give to see this LOL just putting this out in the universe: someone pls write this!!

I had this cooking and finally got it in a place I liked. Putting this out in the universe too if anyone wanted to write this HC! Heavy on Elucien but maybe part two - choose your adventure kind? Maybe?

Hope you enjoy!

Lucien stood in the softly lit room, a tapestry of emotions etched across his features. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips in deep contemplation, a slight furrow between his brows, his thoughts churning like a tempestuous sea. Across from him, Feyre watched him with a trace of annoyance, her eyes narrowing as they darted between him and the four meticulously wrapped presents he had placed on the ornate table in the center of the room.

Her voice was tinged with a mix of frustration and curiosity as she probed, "So you really aren't going to show up to the Solstice party tonight?"

Lucien, leaning against the table, exhaled a deep sigh and offered a nonchalant shrug, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "I've made other plans," he replied, his voice tinged with an air of mystery.

Feyre's exasperation grew, her gaze fixed on him. "With who? We lent you the townhouse so you could be with Vassa and Jurian. So, they'll be here, and you'll be where?"

Lucien hesitated, choosing his words carefully before he reluctantly responded, "Not here."

"Lucien," Feyre's tone turned more insistent, a mix of concern and frustration lacing her words.

Lucien gritted his teeth, the painful truth lingering unspoken. The prospect of enduring another Solstice haunted him, the weight of pretending that Elain's indifference didn't affect him becoming unbearable. The anticipation of witnessing her distant gaze, as if she wished he were anywhere but there, compounded the pain. Gifting her another token of his affections only to receive silence in return seemed like a masochistic cycle.

His mechanical eye clicked softly as he tried to maintain composure, "You're mad at me over something else."

Feyre's frustration softened into a weary sigh. She stepped closer, her voice laced with genuine concern, "You've been here for a week, Lucien, and we haven't even had dinner together. Do I need to make an appointment for you to have dinner with us over the next week?"

"I am sorry," Lucien admitted, his voice laced with sincerity and a hint of regret. "People heard I'm on vacation and wanted to catch up."

Feyre's frown deepened as she studied him, a mix of sympathy and irritation dancing in her eyes. "I didn't realize you were so popular."

Lucien extended his hands in a gesture of surrender, his palms exposed in a placating manner. "If I don't get too caught up where I am, I promise I'll stop by. Is that fair?"

“You're not spending the night here? But it’s tradition,” Feyre protested, her voice a touch wistful.

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his choices press upon him. “It seems rude to come back here when everyone is asleep.”

Feyre considered his words for a moment before reluctantly nodding her head, the tension in the room easing slightly. She understood his reasons, even if she didn't entirely agree with them.

Lucien couldn't help but flash a warm, reassuring grin as he closed the gap between them, embracing Feyre gently. "Happy Birthday Solstice."

Feyre returned his hug, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Please stop by. It'll make me happy."

—-

Elain returned from shopping, her heart sinking as she caught a whiff of Lucien's signature spiced scent, reminiscent of mulled wine, lingering in the air. She inhaled sharply, her gaze drawn to the four beautifully wrapped presents on the table. She hadn't bought him a gift during her last excursion, and the feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew that Lucien's generosity only deepened the guilt she felt, a silent reminder of a connection she had been avoiding.

Suppressing her unease, she sucked in a steadying breath and returned to the kitchen to focus on finishing her cooking. She silently prayed that the night would go smoothly, and that Lucien wouldn't try to engage her in conversation.

The day wore on, and Elain became absorbed in the meticulous preparation of the Solstice meal. She took pride in her improved kitchen skills but couldn't help feeling a touch weary, knowing that she had to anticipate four more guests than usual. Her mind wandered briefly to the mysterious presents on the table, wondering what they held and why Lucien had left them.

As she let the last dish cool, she decided it was time to change into something more festive, even though her heart wasn't fully in the celebration. She heard the first guests arriving, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Elain made her way to the staircase, her steps hesitant.

Before she could reach the stairs, she came face to face with Azriel, the same spot where he had uttered those words that had pierced her heart.

“Happy Solstice,” she said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.

“Happy Solstice,” he replied, his voice soft and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite place.

Elain gave a curt nod and began to ascend the stairs when she heard him say, “Elain, wait.”

She turned back to him, her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to say something, to bridge the chasm that had grown between them. He only looked at her, his shoulders slumped, but still, no words came forth.

“Excuse me, I have to get ready,” she said, her tone a mixture of politeness and distance. Azriel nodded in understanding, and with a heavy heart, Elain continued her journey up the stairs, hoping that the night wouldn't bring about more painful conversations.

Elain took her time getting ready, feeling the weight of her avoidance weigh on her as she prepared for the evening. She knew that she was deliberately sidestepping the issue, and as she made her way back down the stairs, she couldn't help but notice the conspicuous absence in the room.

A gnawing unease settled in her stomach as she looked around the dinner table, the first of many singular questions on her mind. Still, her pride held her back from voicing them aloud.

“Where is Lucien?” Nesta asked, her sharp observation marking his absence.

“Not here,” Feyre replied, her tone carrying a hint of mockery as she took a sip of wine.

Elain furrowed her brows as she took a seat, and Nesta pressed on, glancing towards Vassa and Jurian. “So where is he?”

Vassa and Jurian exchanged a glance and then looked up at the ceiling as if it held the answers they sought. “He mentioned where he might be.”

“Summer Court to visit Alis?” Vassa suggested.

Jurian frowned, deep in thought. “That was last week. I think he’s at Dawn Court with Nuan.”

“No,” Vassa shook her head. “Nuan was earlier in the week. Didn’t Eris say he wanted to meet up with him?”

“I thought he met up with Eris right before Hewn City Solstice,” Cassian chimed in.

“Viviane invited him to their Winter Solstice celebration,” Mor finally answered, unraveling the mystery.

Feyre's expression soured. “So he would rather be at some high-class shindig than here with family? No wonder why he didn’t want to tell me.”

Rhys, ever diplomatic, gave a sympathetic smile towards his mate. “Their celebrations are quite fantastic. A little formal but at least he’s not in Day with their drinking, dancing and dallying debauchery.”

Elain's clenched fists revealed the turmoil within her as the reality of Lucien's absence settled in. She had known all along what it meant, though she had refused to admit it to herself.

“Am I too late?” a voice broke the tension, making Nesta and her friend, Emerie, jump up with excitement.

Elain looked up to see a copper-haired female with a stunning pair of teal eyes hesitantly entering the dining room. Gwyn, she recalled the name. Gwyn sheepishly smiled and exchanged a warm hug with Nesta before finding a seat near them. She then cast a glance towards Azriel, who responded with a grateful smile.

However, that smile quickly vanished, replaced by irritation, when Gwyn inquired, “Lucien’s not here?”

“Evidently not,” Nesta snorted. “We aren't high class enough for him these days.”

Gwyn pouted, a hint of disappointment in her expression. “That's too bad. I was hoping to see him.”

Dinner proceeded smoothly, the atmosphere filled with stories and anecdotes about Lucien's year. Elain couldn't help but grow increasingly irritated as she noticed Gwyn's evident fascination with her mate. Vassa and Jurian happily contributed to the conversation, sharing stories about Lucien that painted a picture of him quite different from the one Elain had imagined.

There were tales of Lucien chasing Tamlin in his beast form to coax him into eat, moments when Lucien had to babysit a drunken Graysen, instances where Lucien's sharp wit had managed to persuade the council to agree in record time, and even times when Lucien and Eris had raised their voices, causing the very house to rumble with their power.

Elain attempted to engage in the various conversations swirling around her, but it seemed that everyone else was preoccupied. Azriel, in particular, was focused on catching Gwyn's attention, while Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta appeared eager to escape for some private moments. Mor and Emerie were engaged in playful flirtation, and Jurian and Vassa seemed entranced by their own private world as they discussed their observations of the fae realm with Varian and Amren.

Elain needed something to divert her thoughts from the realization that she missed Lucien. The longing in her heart was something she couldn't quite comprehend, and it left her feeling adrift in a sea of emotions.

The party eventually transitioned to the spacious living room, where the conversations continued to fill the air. Elain's gaze kept drifting toward Azriel, who was engrossed in a deep conversation with Gwyn. Feyre clapped her hands together and excitedly declared that it was time to open presents. Rhysand snapped his fingers, conjuring even more presents to join the ones Lucien had already placed on the table. Elain's excitement grew, wondering how well the presents she had chosen for her family would be received and suddenly eager to see what Lucien had prepared for her.

As the presents were distributed and unwrapped, Elain found herself delighted with a new cookbook, some shiny baking ware, and a set of gardening tools. Her heart warmed as she felt the gentle tickle of her bond with Lucien, the familiar spiced scent of her mate washing over her.

“Lucien!” Gwyn exclaimed, leaving Azriel behind to give Elain’s mate a warm hug. Elain had to summon all her self-control to keep herself from pulling Gwyn away from Lucien.

He looked impeccable, wearing cream-colored pants, high black boots, and a periwinkle jacket adorned with small snowflakes, and a cravat to complete the outfit. Of course, his attire perfectly complemented Elain’s lavender dress.

“You came!” Feyre greeted him with a bright smile, her arms enveloping Lucien warmly as he returned the gesture with a grin that reached his eyes, reflecting the warmth of the hearth.

“Had to,” Lucien replied with a playful wink, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. “A certain someone might melt my mind tomorrow if I didn’t show.”

Rhysand, ever composed, responded coolly, his sapphire eyes glinting with amusement, “I said nothing of the sort.”

Feyre quickly steered the conversation toward the exchange of presents, her voice eager as she anticipated the joy of the moment. Lucien's smile faltered slightly as he settled into his seat, his features becoming more guarded.

He kept his expression neutral as the last few presents were revealed, his gaze shifting between his friends with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Feyre shifted around, her brow furrowing in confusion before her gaze landed on Lucien, who simply blinked and then looked at Elain, a silent plea for understanding in her eyes.

The first present was a small box for Cassian, wrapped with care and adorned with a simple bow. As Cassian cautiously opened it, his fingers grazing the delicate paper, he discovered it contained only a calling card. "What's this?" he asked, perplexed, his voice a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Lucien grinned mischievously, the corners of his lips quirking up in amusement. "The name of my tailor. About time you start dressing the part of a courtier in colors that compliment black," he teased, his tone light but tinged with affection.

Cassian's eyes lit up as he whooped in delight, his laughter filling the room like a warm breeze. He threw Lucien a playful grin and said, “I got you something, pretty boy.”

She felt her heart sink when he uttered, “I think that’s my first present,” the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a stormcloud on the horizon.

It sank even further when his face broke into a huge smile upon opening his present. Cassian gifted him a set of Illyrian blades, the metal glinting in the soft glow of the fire. He looked at the set of daggers, marveling at the gems embedded in the steel, his admiration shining in his eyes like the sun in the blue sky.

“I was laughed at, by the way,” Cassian said, his voice tinged with amusement. “But Feyre made sure to point out that you like jewels with your blades,” he added, his grin widening as he recalled the memory.

Elain frowned, her mind racing with thoughts she struggled to articulate. She didn’t know that about him, a realization that left her feeling strangely disconnected from the moment unfolding before her.

The second present was a book for Nesta, wrapped in elegant paper and tied with a delicate ribbon. Nesta's eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting in astonishment. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch the spine.

Lucien nodded with a smile, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.

Nesta examined the book with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing the embossed letters on the cover. Then, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, she exclaimed, "But this is rare, and you hate this book. This is my favorite book."

She went on to describe the rarity of the edition, her words tumbling out in a rush of excitement and gratitude. Elain listened intently, her heart aching with a strange mixture of longing and regret.

Nesta turned to him and smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I got you something too,” she teased, her tone playful yet with affection.

The color drained from Lucien’s face as he accepted the gift, his fingers trembling slightly as he unwrapped it with care. Elain watched as Lucien winced while Nesta thoroughly enjoyed his reaction, a sense of unease settling over her like a shadow.

Lucien groaned and held up the book to Nesta, his expression a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Elain's heart twisted with sympathy as she witnessed the exchange, her emotions swirling like leaves in the autumn wind.

“Really?” He asked, his eyes betraying a mixture of surprise and amusement.

Nesta lifted her chin defiantly, her gaze unwavering as she met his gaze head-on. “You can not not read a gift. It’s my favorite book,” she countered.

“Favorite book? You just said that the one I got you was your favorite,” Lucien pointed out, a hint of confusion coloring his words.

“I can have multiple favorites,” Nesta replied matter-of-factly.

Lucien frowned and started to flip towards the end of the book, his curiosity getting the better of him. Nesta lunged at him, her laughter echoing in the room as she tried to pry the book away from him. Elain tried to remain calm as she watched Nesta straddle him, a sense of unease settling over her like a shroud.

“No one dies,” said Nesta, her voice filled with laughter as she tried to reassure him. “I promise!”

Too close, Elain thought, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat. They were too close, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. She glanced towards an agitated Cassian, his expression mirroring her own concerns.

“Can you please get off my mate?” Cassian interjected, his voice laced with amusement yet tinged with concern.

“She’s on top of me!” Lucien protested, his words muffled by Nesta's laughter.

“No one dies in this one, Lucien,” Emerie confirmed, her tone reassuring. Nesta pulled herself away from him, her laughter echoing in the room like a melody.

The third present was a play bow and arrow for Nyx, the wooden toy gleaming in the soft light of the fire. The little boy's face lit up with excitement, his eyes sparkling with delight as he reached out to touch the gift with wonder.

Gwyn’s eyes widened in surprise as Feyre peered into the present, her expression a mixture of curiosity and admiration. Elain chewed on her cheek nervously as Gwyn and Lucien exchanged a knowing look, their unspoken understanding hanging in the air like a veil.

“Autumn Court tradition,” Lucien explained. “When we reach his age, we choose the weapon that becomes our weapon to master. Not surprising that your son picked that.”

The last present was a package of the molten chocolate Alis used to make for Feyre, the sweet aroma filling the room like a comforting embrace. It brought tears to her eyes, her emotions overwhelming her in a tidal wave of nostalgia and gratitude.

Four presents from Lucien. None of them were hers.

“I guess that’s it for presents,” Feyre said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, the weight of disappointment hanging heavy in the air like a lingering fog.

The unspoken weight of Lucien's deliberate omission of a gift for Elain lingered heavily, casting an uncomfortable tension that no one seemed willing to address. Elain felt an isolating sense as she sat there, her emotions swirling, sensing the collective gaze upon her. Lucien resumed chatting with Gwyn.

Desperate for reprieve from the scrutiny of her family's concerned gazes, Elain fought to maintain a composed facade, pretending that she was unfazed by the absence of a gift from her mate. With a small, forced smile, she excused herself under the pretense of needing a moment alone.

"I just remembered I left something in the kitchen. I'll be right back," she said softly, her voice barely trembling.

As she left the room and retreated to the kitchen, her heart ached with the weight of the unanswered questions and the awkwardness that had settled between her and Lucien. The sense of rejection and disappointment gnawed at her, but she was determined to keep up the appearance of being fine.

In the kitchen, Elain took a moment to gather herself, her breaths deep and measured as she fought to suppress the tumult of emotions swirling within her. She reminded herself sternly that she hadn't purchased any gifts for Lucien either, though the hope that the presents were meant for her persisted, stubbornly clinging to her thoughts. As her heartbeat slowed and her breathing steadied, she cast a glance at the untouched cake, resolving that it was time to present it to the guests.

Just as she was about to leave the kitchen, she froze upon catching snippets of conversation between Feyre and Lucien in the adjacent room.

"You humiliated her," Feyre's accusation rang out, sharp and cutting.

Lucien's response was swift, his tone tinged with defensiveness, "I would never intend to humiliate her. I merely thought—"

Feyre interrupted, her voice edged with disbelief, "Thought what, Lucien?"

His reply was clipped, filled with frustration, "That perhaps Azriel could offer her the comfort she deserves."

Feyre's confusion was palpable as she questioned, "Why Azriel?"

The tension in Lucien's voice was unmistakable, "Do I really need to spell it out for you, Feyre?"

As the conversation unfolded, Elain's heart raced once more, a surge of anger coursing through her veins. She retreated from the door, her steps quick and purposeful, only to find herself face to face with Feyre upon her entrance.

"What's going on between you and Lucien? And now Azriel?" Feyre's concern was evident in her gaze.

Elain's response was terse, her tone firm, "Nothing. It's nothing."

Feyre's expression softened, but her concern lingered, "Elain, please—"

Elain's patience snapped, her voice laced with frustration, "I said it's nothing."

She turned her back on Feyre, her resolve firm as she focused on finishing the cake. Each movement was deliberate, her hands working with precision as she willed Feyre to understand, hoping her sister would take the hint and leave her be. The tension between them hung thick in the air, an unspoken barrier dividing their shared space. She heard Feyre sigh, a sound heavy with unresolved emotions.

Once Feyre departed, Elain finished the cake with meticulous care, her hands moving with practiced ease despite the turmoil brewing within her. Placing it on a table, she plastered a smile on her face, though the weight of unresolved tensions lingered heavily still. Her gaze wandered across the room, seeking solace in the familiar faces of her companions.

She spotted Lucien, Gwyn, Vassa, and Jurian engrossed in a serious conversation, their expressions grave and their voices hushed. A pang of anxiety gripped her heart as she watched them, sensing the weight of their discussion. And then, her eyes landed on Azriel, standing alone in the corner, his posture rigid and his eyes fixed on Lucien with an intensity that made Elain uneasy.

Feeling a surge of recklessness fueled by anger and frustration, Elain made her way towards Azriel, each step a silent declaration of her determination to confront the palpable tension between them.

Elain's voice carried a hint of defiance as she initiated the conversation, her eyes fixed on Azriel's distant gaze, refusing to be ignored.

"Can we talk?" she pressed, her tone tinged with urgency, a silent plea for understanding.

Azriel's silence was deafening, his demeanor unyielding, but Elain persisted, repeating her question with growing impatience, her gaze sharpening with determination.

"What do you want to talk about?" Azriel's response was measured, his voice betraying a subtle tension beneath the calm facade.

Before Elain could formulate a response, Gwyn's laughter filled the room, momentarily distracting them from their exchange. With Vassa and Jurian engrossed in the allure of cake, Elain and Azriel observed in silence as Gwyn playfully interacted with Lucien, their laughter forming a barrier between them.

Elain's heart twisted with a pang of jealousy as she watched Lucien's easy camaraderie with Gwyn, the contrast to their own strained dynamic stark in her mind. Beside her, she sensed Azriel's clenched fists, his emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Struggling to break through the tension, Elain blurted out the words that had been weighing on her mind, her voice barely a whisper but heavy with significance.

"You like Gwyn," she murmured, the admission hanging in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that lay between them, fraught with unspoken desires and unaddressed feelings.

Elain observed the subtle softening of Azriel's features at the mention of Gwyn's name, his gaze drifting back toward the pair engaged in lighthearted banter. Gwyn's laughter rang out like a bell, a melody that seemed to tug at Azriel's heartstrings, while Lucien's grin radiated warmth and charm, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

"I do," Azriel admitted, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and longing. His eyes remained fixed on Gwyn, a silent testament to the depths of his unspoken affection.

Her heart clenched at his confession, the realization dawning upon her with painful clarity. She shifted uncomfortably, fingers nervously toying with the fabric of her skirt, the soft rustle of the fabric a stark contrast to the heavy silence that enveloped them.

"But I thought... I thought that you liked me," she ventured quietly, unable to mask the hurt in her voice.

Azriel's gaze fell to his scarred hands, his expression guarded, revealing a vulnerability that cut through the shadows shrouding his usual demeanor. Elain felt a pang of sorrow as she witnessed his internal struggle, the unspoken acknowledgment that she had never been enough for him.

She sucked in a shaky breath, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. Despite her diminishing affections, the sting of rejection still lingered, a bitter reminder of what could never be.

Forcing a strained smile, she offered a feeble reassurance, "Lucien is mated to me, so I doubt you have to worry about that." The words felt hollow on her tongue, a feeble attempt to mask the ache in her heart.

A soft chuckle escaped Azriel's lips before his attention returned to the scene before them, where Lucien's grin contrasted sharply with Gwyn's horrified expression as she playfully chastised him. The warmth of the fire cast flickering shadows across their faces, lending an air of intimacy to the moment.

"Perhaps it's my punishment," Azriel mused quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Lucien puts her at ease." The flames danced in his eyes, reflecting the turmoil of his inner thoughts.

Elain's heart ached at his admission, the realization sinking in that she had been blind to the depth of Lucien's impact on Gwyn. She watched the pair with a mixture of envy and resignation, her own feelings tangled in a web of unspoken desires and unfulfilled longing.

Azriel's voice held a note of self-recrimination as he continued, his words heavy with regret, "I was arrogant enough to think that because you weren't interested in him, he wasn't deserving to be your mate. But look how he makes her laugh and smile." Each word felt like a dagger to Elain's heart, a painful reminder of what she had lost.

"I don’t... I don’t give her that," Azriel confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "A year ago, she didn't like being touched by any male. She could barely handle being alone with another male, and I was surprised she allowed me to stay with her. But next thing I knew, she was talking about Lucien, and how she was helping him, and then they spent so much time alone together." The confession hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the depth of his longing.

Elain's breath caught in her throat as Azriel's anguish became palpable, his clenched fists betraying the depth of his torment. The soft glow of the fire cast flickering shadows across their faces, lending an air of intimacy to the moment.

"I thought it hurt being the only one among my brothers not mated, but nothing compares to watching someone fall in love and knowing I can't stop it," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken regrets and unfulfilled desires.

"But he's mated to me," Elain reiterated, her words a feeble attempt to anchor herself amidst the storm of conflicting emotions. The flames danced in Azriel's eyes, reflecting the turmoil of his inner thoughts.

"I know," Azriel sighed, his gaze never leaving the pair across the room. "That's what makes it hurts much more." The words lingered between them, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that bound them together.

As they continued to watch, a sense of longing and regret enveloped them both, their unspoken words echoing in the empty spaces between them, a silent testament to the pain of unrequited love and shattered dreams.

---

Lucien felt the weight of Azriel's presence, intertwined with Elain's, tugging at the edges of his consciousness. Though the bond between them pulsed with a muted ache of longing and melancholy, Lucien found it difficult to fully comprehend, given the circumstances. After all, Elain was with Azriel now, having chosen him.

“He’s with her,” Gwyn observed, her tone tinged with a hint of melancholy.

“He doesn't seem that happy,” Lucien remarked, his voice betraying a touch of sympathy.

It was a familiar sight for Lucien, accustomed to witnessing the complexities of their relationship. But for Gwyn, it was a stark realization, one that had taken time for her to come to terms with. She had confided in Lucien about her growing feelings for the shadowsinger, unable to ignore the tension whenever Azriel and Elain were together. Gwyn had attempted to broach the topic with Nesta, only to be met with dismissal, as if Elain's bond with Lucien precluded any possibility of her being with Azriel.

Their conversation drifted back to the library, where Lucien had sought Gwyn's assistance with Vassa's curse. It was there that they had forged an unexpected connection, their shared lineage serving as a bond that transcended their individual struggles. Learning that they were cousins had provided a sense of solace, uniting them as kindred spirits navigating their intertwined destinies.

Lucien had become Gwyn's confidant, offering sage advice and a sympathetic ear as she grappled with her feelings for Azriel. While Nesta and Emerie remained oblivious to the underlying tensions, Lucien understood the turmoil brewing beneath the surface, a silent witness to Gwyn's unspoken desires.

As their friendship blossomed, Lucien found comfort in Gwyn's companionship, grateful for the understanding she offered. Yet, he couldn't shake the sense of irony in their situation - while Gwyn found safehaven in confiding her feelings for Azriel, Lucien found himself drawn deeper into his own unspoken longing for Elain.

“Are you leaving soon?” Gwyn inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of reluctance.

Lucien nodded solemnly. “I am.”

“Can you take me back?” Gwyn's request was accompanied by a note of uncertainty, as if she feared intruding on his time.

“Are you sure? You spent the entire time talking to me,” Lucien remarked, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

“That's because you're family and mated and…” Gwyn's voice trailed off, her words laden with unspoken implications.

Elain's beauty was undeniable, a fact that hung heavy in the air between them. Lucien offered her a gentle smile, his heart heavy with unspoken longing. “Okay. I'll say goodbye to the others, but I think it'll be worth saying goodbye to him too, even with her there.”

----

Elain's heart skipped a beat as Lucien rose from his seat and strode confidently toward Feyre and Rhysand. Gwyn, her presence hesitant, approached Elain and Azriel, her smile radiant yet tinged with uncertainty. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of her cloak as she glanced between Lucien and Azriel, sensing the tension in the air like a palpable force.

Azriel, usually composed, straightened in his chair, his gaze fixed on Gwyn with an intensity that Elain couldn't ignore. His hazel eyes bore into Gwyn's, silently questioning her decision to leave with Lucien.

“I’m leaving,” Gwyn announced, her voice like a delicate melody in the tense air. The words hung in the space between them, laden with unspoken implications.

“With Lucien?” Azriel's tone dripped with bitterness, his eyes darting between Gwyn and Lucien. Elain observed the subtle tension in his jaw, a testament to his internal struggle.

Gwyn affirmed with a subtle nod, her eyes flickering towards Lucien, who had now joined her. The hesitant smile on her lips betrayed her uncertainty, contrasting with the determination in Lucien's expression.

“Ready?” Lucien's voice cut through the awkward tension, his eyes deliberately avoiding Elain's. She noted the slight furrow of his brow, a sign of the turmoil beneath his confident facade.

Elain tried to focus on the conversation, but her attention drifted to the simple piece of string adorning Lucien’s wrist. Its significance eluded her, a stark contrast to the complexities swirling within her own mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lucien suddenly seemed engrossed in the space between Azriel and Gwyn. Elain observed his subtle gestures, sensing a flicker of recognition in his expression. The tension between them was palpable, adding an undercurrent of unease to the situation.

Then, as if a realization had dawned upon him, Lucien spoke with conviction, “I think Azriel should take you home.” His words resonated in the air, breaking the uneasy silence and igniting a spark of hope within Elain.

His gaze shifted to Azriel, who nodded in agreement. “Yes, he should take you home,” Lucien added, his tone final. Elain watched the exchange with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

But Gwyn's response was unexpected. “Nooooo,” she protested sheepishly, “I asked you.”

Elain felt a surge of determination rise within her, spurred by the sudden turn of events. “I can’t... because…” Lucien faltered, searching for words, but Elain found herself finishing his sentence, her voice unwavering.

“Because he forgot that... I am... joining him,” she declared firmly, her gaze locked with Lucien's. The weight of her words hung in the air, a silent plea for understanding.

Lucien's surprise was evident, his brows knitting together in a moment of realization, yet Elain pressed on, her determination unyielding.

“You've been running around the past few days with your vacation, but don’t you remember?” she challenged him, her voice edged with urgency, each word a pointed arrow aimed at his comprehension.

His response was hesitant, his eyes widening in gradual recognition, like two pools slowly catching the first light of dawn. “You knew I was on vacation?” he questioned, his tone heavy with disbelief, the weight of his realization palpable in the air.

Elain met his gaze with an unyielding glare, her eyes flickering with an intensity akin to smoldering embers, silently urging him to grasp the truth that lay before him.

“Yes… that's right…that's what you wanted as your present,” Lucien continued, his voice faltering slightly as he wove through the web of their shared deception, the weight of his words hanging in the charged atmosphere between them.

Gwyn's frown deepened, her brows knitting together in suspicion, as though she could see through the facade with uncanny clarity. But Lucien pressed on, his resolve unyielding, his determination etched into the lines of his face.

“We are going to be late,” Elain pushed, her voice firm and commanding, a note of urgency coloring her words as she tried to steer the conversation back on track, her fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh.

“Az… Azriel… Az … riel … can I trust you to take my cousin home?” Lucien implored, his tone tinged with desperation, his gaze shifting to Azriel with a silent plea for assistance.

Azriel's brow furrowed in confusion, his expression a portrait of perplexity as he processed the sudden revelation. “Cousin?” he repeated, his voice tinged with uncertainty, his mind racing to make sense of the revelation.

His eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope as Lucien turned to Gwyn with a scowl, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You never told him we were cousins?” he accused, his tone tinged with exasperation, a note of betrayal seeping into his words.

Gwyn remained impassive, her lips pursed in a tight line as she met Lucien's glare with a steely resolve, her silence speaking volumes in the charged atmosphere. But Lucien pressed on, his frustration mounting with each passing moment.

“Never… Never…” Lucien muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stave off the rising tide of irritation, his patience wearing thin as the tension continued to mount. "You valkyries are going to kill me," he added with a wry twist of irony, a weary sigh escaping his lips.

Azriel's lips twitched in amusement, a ghost of a smile dancing across his features as he observed the unfolding drama with quiet interest. "You should try training them," he remarked dryly, his voice laced with subtle humor, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.

Gwyn's smile was tight-lipped, her gaze flickering uncertainly between Lucien and Azriel, silently weighing her options. Sensing her hesitation, Lucien intervened, his tone softened by a note of gratitude.

Lucien, noticing her hesitation, amended, "I owe you one session if you go with him." Elain could see the tension melting away from Gwyn's shoulders, a sense of satisfaction blooming within her like a flower in bloom.

Gwyn's expression shifted to smugness. "Two now." Elain couldn't help but smile at Gwyn's playful banter, the tension dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

"I knew your bracelet came with a price. Fine. Two. It’s settled. I’ll see you not tomorrow.” Lucien's resignation hung heavy in the air, a sense of defeat settling over him like a heavy cloak.

As Lucien turned to leave, Gwyn interjected, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “Should you be taking Elain?” she asked, her words hanging in the air like a challenge, a subtle undercurrent of doubt coloring her tone.

Elain and Lucien locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between them. In that moment, a myriad of unspoken emotions danced between them, their gazes lingering a fraction longer than necessary, conveying a depth of understanding that words could not capture.

“Yes, because I said I would,” Lucien stammered, his voice strained with a mixture of apprehension and determination. He held Elain's gaze, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

Heat flushed at Elain’s cheeks, a rush of warmth spreading across her face as she realized the significance of the moment. This would be the first time she would be alone with him, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air, uncertainty mingling with excitement in her chest.

“Yes,” Elain said, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart. “And I said we should leave now.” With a firm nod, she affirmed her decision, steeling herself for whatever lay ahead.

Lucien hesitantly offered his arm, a silent invitation hanging between them. Elain reached out, her fingers brushing against his in a fleeting touch, a spark igniting between them as they made contact. She felt all eyes on them, the weight of expectation heavy in the air as they walked out the door together, stepping into the unknown.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Lucien said, his voice strained with a mixture of apprehension and longing, his gaze searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

“They are going to be asking me where you took me, so might as well come along,” Elain replied, her grip tightening on his arm, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his sleeve.

Lucien sighed, a mixture of resignation and gratitude in his breath, the weight of their impending journey hanging heavy in the air. Despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, a small, genuine smile played at the corners of his lips, a testament to the trust he placed in Elain's judgment. "You're right," he conceded, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of amusement. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Elain furrowed her brow, her expression a mix of accusation and curiosity. "You were in Day, were you?" she questioned, her tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

Lucien stilled, his demeanor shifting slightly at the mention of Day. "What do you know about their celebration?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Drinking, dancing, and dallying debauchery," Elain replied matter-of-factly, her words laced with a touch of dry humor.

A faint blush crept onto Lucien's cheeks at her blunt assessment. "I wasn't there," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I was in Winter."

"So we are going back to Winter?" Elain inquired, her brow furrowing slightly as she processed the information.

"Ah, no. We are going to Day," Lucien clarified, his tone hesitant yet resolute.

Elain's lips formed a thin line, her features masking her inner turmoil as she absorbed Lucien's words. "For that... dallying debauchery?" she questioned, her tone betraying a hint of skepticism, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit.

Lucien's brow furrowed, a fleeting shadow of defensiveness crossing his countenance. "I am mated to you. I would never dream of being with someone else," he assured her earnestly, his words laden with sincerity. "But yes, that's where we are going."

Elain remained silent, her thoughts swirling tumultuously as she wrestled with the implications of his admission. Lucien couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in her demeanor, a blend of uncertainty and something more enigmatic, a mystery he longed to unravel.

"Interesting that's where your mind went to," he commented, a note of curiosity coloring his voice as he observed her reaction, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Elain's glare intensified, her gaze piercing as they winnowed away to Day Court's celebration, the tension between them simmering beneath the surface, unresolved and fraught with unspoken emotions.

#elucien #elain x lucien #gwynriel #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fanfic

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dawneternal · 1 month

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Just a Favor | pt 2 | Gwynriel

✦ cause so many people asked for more lol enjoy 💛

✦ Warnings: mostly fluff a bit of angst

✦ Word Count: 1.2k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Is that you or some other shadowsinger flying over my house?

Rhysand's voice pierced through the storm of Azriel's thoughts.

Something happened. Azriel responded, knowing his brother could likely hear his panic.

Do tell.

House of Wind?

Meet you there.

Thus, Azriel found himself sitting at the long, empty dining room table, knee bouncing as he waited for Rhys.

It did not take long for Rhysand to appear above the balcony, landing with barely a sound. He joined Azriel at the table, a gleam in his eye as he took in his brother's anxious fidgeting.

"Is this a good something or a bad something?" Rhys asked, conjuring a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

"I have a mate," Azriel said, eyes wide. Rhys stopped pouring, eyebrows rising.

"Who?"

"You know who, don't you?" Azriel tilted his head. Indeed, Rhys's violet eyes glowed with something knowing and gleeful.

"The redheaded Valkyrie you follow like a lost puppy?" Rhysand grinned and slid a glass to Azriel.

"I do not," Azriel frowned.

"You do, and it will only get worse if she is your mate," Rhysand took a sip and winced at the burn, "Is she?"

"Yes," The shadowsinger breathed, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. His lips parted like he was still in awe of it.

"So then tell me the story," Rhys prodded, grin only growing.

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck, turning his gaze to the marble floor. He hadn't considered the fact that the High Lord may not be very happy about his agreement with the valkyrie.

"Well...she told me that she wanted to have her first kiss," As predicted, Rhys's eyebrows drew upwards as he listened.

"She asked me to either kiss her or find someone nice who would," Az continued.

"And you kissed her?" Rhys's face was unreadable.

"I did."

"And as her teacher, you thought that would be a good idea why?"

"...because she is pretty?"

Such frivolous reasoning from the solemn spy master. Rhysand tipped his head back and roared with laughter. His cheeks had turned pink, eyes gleaming with happiness for his brother. Never in their long lives had someone rattled him so.

"You kissed her and the bond snapped?"

"Yes, and I don't think it snapped for her," The anxiety returned to Azriel's eyes, his smile faltering, "What am I going to do?"

"Stop for a minute, Az," Rhysand said softly, leaning forward to grasp Azriel's shoulder, "Just celebrate for a moment. You have a mate. An incredible, formidable, beautiful mate."

Azriel smiled. There was such deep relief in it, the weight of centuries lifting. Tears glistened in his eyes, a couple spilling over onto his rosy cheeks. His body felt strange, unsure what to do without the ache of longing. He thought his shadows would be a swarming mess but they were utterly still.

"Yeah," Az croaked, looking at his brother with such joy that it brought tears to Rhys's eyes as well. "I have a mate. She's my mate."

***

Nesta found Gwyn crouched on the bank of the stream, elbows propped on her knees as she watched the bubbling water in the moonlight.

"Gwyn?" Nesta asked softly, trying to catch a glimpse of her friend's face behind the curtain of copper hair.

Gwyn turned to her, face pale and eyes wide, freckles stark against her skin.

"He kissed me," She whispered. Nesta settled next to her, resting her bare feet on the rocks at the edge of the water.

"Was it bad?" Nesta's brows furrowed.

"No," Gwyn breathed, a hint of smile gracing her features, "It was really good. But then he freaked out and flew away?"

Nesta's eyes widened, lips drawing into a thin line.

"I know," Gwyn whispered, mirroring Nesta's expression, "You don't think...."

"Maybe," Nesta searched her friend's eyes, the same color as the bobbing flowers growing among them. Gwyn was scared, worried...but there was something else gleaming there. Something that wanted it to be true.

"I guess you'll have to wait for him to tell you," She said, reaching out to twirl a strand of her friend's hair.

"What if he doesn't?" Gwyn asked, chewing her bottom lip, "I don't want to get my hopes up."

"I can pry," Nesta grinned, "If he tells Cassian I can get it out of him easily."

"No," Gwyn smiled and shook her head, "I want to know from him."

They settled into silence for a long moment, listening to the water rush over the rocks as it reached toward the ocean. Nesta wrapped an arm around Gwyn's shoulders and tucked her in close.

Gwyn's thoughts whirled. She felt a giddy, fluttering hope and a terrifying nervousness when she remembered the shock on Azriel's face. And the idea that she might be wrong produced a bitter ache in her chest. If she was right, when would she feel it, too?

"It was good?" Nesta sang, drawing out the last word, pulling Gwyn from her contemplation. Gwyn smiled, blushing so deeply it spread to the points of her ears.

"It was...everything."

When Nesta and Cassian landed at the House of Wind, Azriel was alone at the dining room table. Rhysand had gone back to the River House and left the scotch behind.

Nesta smiled to herself at the sight of the shadowsinger. He stared at nothing, eyes glazed over and a faint, happy smile on his face. They had found him in this position before, alone and brooding. But this time he did not appear to be sulking. He seemed...light. His shadows ambled around him like sleepy bumblebees.

She looked at Cassian and nodded toward the table, then silently scurried away to her room.

"Hey," Cassian said, pulling out a chair.

"Hey," Az murmured, pulled from his love-sick stupor.

"What happened to you?" Cassian chuckled, picking up the half-full glass Rhysand had left.

"I kissed Gwyn," Az answered, looking up at his brother.

"You agreed to that whole thing?" Cassian laughed and took a sip of scotch.

"You knew about that?"

"Nesta told me," Cassian waved his hand, "But anyways. You kissed her and you're smitten now?"

"I kissed her and the bond snapped," Azriel said, eyes alight.

Cassian stared for a moment, glass paused halfway to his lips. Then the glass clattered into the table and Cassian was up, lifting Azriel into a hug. He spun the shadowsinger around and planted messy kisses on his cheek.

"A mate! You have a mate, brother!"

"Put me down, you oaf," Az muttered and wiped his face, but he was grinning.

"I'm so happy for you," Cassian croaked, a lump in growing in his throat.

"I just have to figure out how to tell her," Azriel said.

"Don't wait too long," Cassian nodded gravely, "We all saw what happened to Rhys."

Then his grin broke through again and he hopped from one foot to the other. "Berdara is your mate! I can't say I didn't see that coming."

"What do you mean?" Azriel demanded, reminded of Rhysand's similar sentiment.

"Come on," Cassian shook his head, giggling, "You're obsessed with each other."

"She's obsessed with me?" Az perked up at this, eyes sparkling.

"Oh brother. You need to talk to her. Let's sit and brainstorm," Cassian pulled the chair out to sit again.

"No thanks," Az chuckled, "I'm going to bed. But if you come up with any brilliant ideas let me know tomorrow."

Though Azriel already had a plan. He would do what Cassian should have done and ask Feyre what she wished had happened for her. He would make it perfect. For Gwyn, for his own centuries of waiting, it had to be perfect.

#gwyn acotar #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #acotar #gwyn x azriel #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #gwyn fic #gwynriel #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction

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eeereee · 1 year

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Finally finished the piece!

I've wanted to experiment more with my illustrations so hopefully, this will only be the first of many you all see.

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanart #gwynriel fanfiction #az's wingspan is so big #how big is it #his wingspan can't even fit on the page

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vikingmagic33 · 1 month

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@gwynrielweeksofficial Modern Workplace AU with Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics for Gwynriel Weeks

Chapter 1 of Get Off is now up on AO3.

Link to Fic

Despite teasing from his brothers, Alpha Azriel swears he doesn’t need an omega to be happy. Until Gwyn storms into his office pissed off and glorious.

*rated for later chapters and safe for those triggered by pregnancy

#gwynriel #modern au #workplace romance #alpha beta omega #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel fanfiction #acotar #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #gwynriel weeks 2024

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estellaluna · 3 months

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Stay (gwynriel short fic)

•••

Azriel barged through the infirmary door only to stop at the doorway when he saw Gwyn on the infirmary bed, being consoled by Nesta. It was not the first time he saw Gwyn being in total distraught, however, when their eyes locked onto each other, all he wanted to do was run to her and embrace her tight and never let go.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here. Is what all Gwyn could think at the moment.

The tears pooling around Gwyn’s eyes finally rolled down her cheeks as she let a sigh of relief upon seeing Azriel, safe and unharmed. He was still panting upon rushing to find her. She run towards the man as he met her in the middle of the room.

Gwyn encircled her arms around Azriel’s neck. Her hands are shaky and her knees are wobbly because of worry. Azriel supported her with his arms around her waist, caressing her back to soothe her. And she started sobbing, crying, stating the same phrases all over again.

“I thought I lost you forever,” Gwyn whispered as her sobbing started to grow louder.

Azriel hushed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Gwyn. I’m here now.”

“When we got attacked from our mission and we got separated and I couldn’t find you, I panicked. I didn’t know where to find you. I was chased by the other two monsters. Then I heard your scream and I got so worried again. I tried to find you for hours. I didn’t want to give up. But then I could’ve sworn I heard your voice or I thought I heard your voice twice to get out of there and find Cassian.”

Azriel’s siphons gleamed. That was what he has been thinking while fighting the monsters who attacked them during their mission together. Gwyn, get out of here and find Cassian. He tightens his embrace and kisses her temple. He felt her relaxed to his embrace.

“You did great, Gwyn. You did great,” Azriel said.

When Gwyn stopped sobbing, she pulled away from him and looked up to see his face. There is a slash of wound on his right cheek. The blood seemed to be already dried up but when Gwyn lightly touched it with her thumb, he winced. She held his face as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Gwyn inched closer and closer and placed a kiss on his cheek. She kissed his cheek for a few seconds before looking at his hazel eyes, his pupils, fully dilated. Azriel moved to lay his forehead against her forehead. Gwyn closed her eyes.

“Az, is it too selfish to ask for you to stay with me. Or at least until I feel better. Please stay with me,” Gwyn asked.

“You don’t have to ask, Gwyn,” Azriel replied, kissing the tip of her nose.

Gwyn moved closer enough for to feel each other’s staggered breaths. “Az, there is something I need to tell you.”

“Gwyn, I love you,” Azriel whispered which made Gwyn get caught off guard. Her heartbeat started racing.

“Azriel…”

“Hmm?”

“Az, I love you, too.”

“Do you mean it? I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it back just because I said it,” Azriel said, there is lightness on his voice.

“I do mean it. I mean it, Az. I realized that if we’re going to continue having dangerous missions, I want to let you know what I feel for you. I don’t want to die having regrets because I didn’t tell you.”

Azriel shook his head. “No one is going to die, my love. I won’t allow it. When we got separated during our mission, only the gods know how desperate I was to get to you. I trust you will all my heart. But I do not trust myself. Because if ever you get harmed, gods forbid, I will lose my wits, Gwyn. I will lose it—I will lose everything, all the things you helped me to rebuild. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to forgive myself when my mother died, but I was able to do it because of you. Because you helped me through it. And if I am going to lose you—no. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself again. So, no—I won’t allow—”

Azriel wasn’t able to finish his sentence when Gwyn crashed her lips to his. Azriel furrowed his eyebrows as he closed his eyes and felt Gwyn’s lips. He placed his hand on her jaw as they both pulled away to look at each other’s eyes.

A single tear escaped from her eye and he immediately wiped the tear away. “I take my words back. Please stay with me forever,” Gwyn said.

“That is what I intend to do.”

#gwynriel #azriel #gwyn berdara #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel headcanon #azriel shadowsinger #pro gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fic #gwynriel supremacy #gwyneth berdara

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lib-arts · 3 months

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🏎️ - Heart Racing

Gwyn and Az, modern¡au

fanart for anewritter - fanfic: heart racing

#acotar #sjm #sarah j maas #sjmaas #pro gwyneth berdara #gwynriel fanart #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyn acosf #acosf #a court of silver flames #gwynriel fanfiction #modern au #formula 1

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orphicauroras · 1 month

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Water Lillies || Gwyn x Azriel

Gwynriel one shot for @gwynrielweeksofficial Day 3: Confessions

But before you begin I would like to inform you guys that this is the first time I'm writing in years. And English is not my first language. So pardon my grammar mistakes and cringeness. Also I got this idea when I saw this gif. Idk if someone else have written anything similar.

Gwyn was walking ahead of him, her slender fingers circling his in a loose embrace, using that connection to guide him to a destination unknown to both of them.

Azriel watched as she lightly bounced on her walk causing his lips to tilt up involuntarily. He seems to be doing that more lately.

The cause? A particular Valkyrie who has managed to find her way to his stony heart.

They were in Dawn Court borders. Apparently Rhysand wanted to visit Thesan and had decided that the Valkyries would be a nice additional touch. Azriel had the doubt that he just wanted to flaunt them. Let them see that the Night Court now had a unit of female warriors who was once thought to be destroyed and later reincarnated by a group that was so fierce they could beat any warrior who was bold enough to try. But he had said nothing as Rhysand paraded them around the Dawn Court premises like a proud dad. Cassian and he were quite amused seeing Rhys behave like that. Feyre could only shake her head and laugh lightly.

Azriel had assumed at least one of the women would be against it but surprisingly no one opposed. Hell, Ananke and Lorelei even seemed excited! They had eagerly followed Rhysand and Thesan with a non caring Nesta and an amused Emerie on their toes, the rest following them. After Rhysand had come to the conclusion that everyone in the court now knew of the warrior women, he had obtained permission from Thesan to wander the place as they liked. They could carry one weapon with them as long as they don't try to inflict any damage to anyone.

And as soon as he had announced that news the coppery brown haired Valkyrie had sought him out to take her around the grounds. Azriel had agreed immediately, his shadows humming in agreement.

And why would he not. They have become close friends now and he has started to look forward to meeting her everyday. They would train together, talk together, laugh together. There was something about her that made him want more. She didn't fear him, she didn't cover from him.

She matched whatever he threw at her.

She....matched him.

So here they were walking through the woods with Gwyn on the lead and Azriel following her. She had changed her leathers to a blue gown which brought out her hair. It made her seem like a radiating princess wandering through the forest with her trusted knight at her tail.

Azriel took in her fingers clutching his, mesmerised. It felt good...holding hands.

"We're almost there, Shadowsinger. I know it! " Her voice rang.

"Huh?" Azriel asked, dragging his eyes from her hands to her head. He had forgotten what she said.

"I said, Shadowsinger that we're almost there. Don't you hear the sound?" Gwyn stopped and turned to him.

What sound?

He listened.

Oh that sound.

The quiet melody of water flowing hit his ears. There was a stream nearby.

"Come on" Gwyn tugged at his hand, leading him towards it. He followed obediently.

Moving whatever plants that blocked their path they reached the shores of the stream to get greeted by the water. Small violet coloured lilies decorated the slow stream, the flowers adding beauty to the already enchanting place. Exotic plants unlike anything he has seen grew nearby.

It was a beautiful sight.

Although not as beautiful as the person standing next to him…

He didn't dare say it aloud fearing her response. He didn't think she would be ready to hear those words. Especially from him.

Perhaps when the time is right…

"Look at these Azriel. They're so beautiful!" Gwyn exclaimed. Her fingers fell from his hand and he immediately missed it. He had become acquainted with her warmth. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, her face relaxing. Azriel took the opportunity to openly marvel her.

He was so proud that she took this trip. When Rhysand had put forward the idea he was reluctant at first. Because he thought Gwyn wouldn't like it. He thought she was still haunted by that cursed day. That the nightmares still followed her like it did to him. But Gwyn proved him wrong. Not only was she happy she was excited all week. She practically smothered him with questions about the Dawn Court. How it looked. How it felt. She needed everything.

It would be a lie if he said he didn't enjoy every minute of it.

Gwyn turned, her face pouting. "I want that" She pointed her graceful fingers at the Lilies growing a little far from the edges.

Azriel couldn't help his chuckle. "Why them? There's plenty growing on the edges”

"These are buds, Shadowsinger. They need to bloom. You can't possibly think of plucking them while they're still growing." Gwyn crossed her arms, the muscles she obtained through hard work bulging.

"Technically those ones are also still in the growing phase." Gwyn huffed to that. "Will you get me those flowers, Shadowsinger?" She asked, her expression one of hope.

Azriel looked at his own outfit. He was still in his leathers. Leathers that he didn't want to get wet. Not really something that you would wear if you want to get into the water.

"I don't want to get myself wet. So...later?" He asked knowing full well that she would get them if she wanted now. Gwyn narrowed her eyes.

"Fine! I'll get them myself." She gathered her skirts and lifted them a little higher and started towards the water.

"Wait. What are you doing Gwyn?" Azriel's hands shot out to her but quickly drop a span away from hers. He didn't want to impose. He knew she achieved anything she set her eyes on but didn't really think that she would step into water. Well he did think Gwyn would entertain the idea but not actually follow it.

Gwyn looked at him incredulously. " You need to listen to your surroundings carefully, Shadowsinger. I said I'm going to pluck them”

Azriel licked his lips. "Let me do that.”

Gwyn raised one eyebrow. "You said you didn't want to get wet. What changed your heart?"

He didn't wanted to say that she changed his heart.

So he didn't.

She was still looking at him. Her gaze devouring his. He nearly started fidgeting when she spoke. "I can do that, you know. The stream is shallow enough that I could pluck every flower if I want to.”

Azriel knew that. Just as he knew that no threats lurked in either the stream or the surroundings. His shadows would have warned him if there were any. They were protective of their feisty Valkyrie just like their owner. "I know. Just let me try.”

"What, you don't think I could do that?" Azriel watched as her chin went up on that familiar stubborn tilt that he always found adorable.

But before he could object she was already in water. "Relax Shadowsinger. It's not far. You forget that I'm a nymph.”

"Quarter nymph." Azriel called after her. She gave him a vulgar gesture that had his lips lifting up. Sighing he perched on the small rock nearby and watched Gwyn step into water. She was not going to do anything if she didn't want to anyway.

He watched as she dove forward, water parting for her. The light rays of Dawn Court glided through her loose coppery brown hair, making it shine like a molten metal. She didn't pay any attention to her hair which was now a little soaked nor her clothes. She confidently plucked the flowers and gathered them around her chest. Moving to the next.

These were the moments when he couldn't look away despite how much he wanted to. He could feel himself get lost on her. His eyes were magnets drawing towards her and only her. She had captured him in every way and he was in no hurry to slip.

He was a willing prey…

As if feeling his eyes Gwyn turned to look at him. She beamed and waved the flowers at him causing him to chuckle and then turned again to pluck the remaining blossomed ones.

Suddenly she stopped.

"Azriel... Something keeps brushing against my legs" She called out, caution and a tint of panic entering her melodic voice.

"What? " He was instantly on his feet. "Gwyn, What is it?" Shadows hadn't warned him about anything. So what's this?

Gwyn turned to him. "Maybe it's a fish." She shrugged.

"Maybe not. Come back here Berdara. You have enough flowers in your hand." Azriel put his hands on his hips. He could not take any chances. She already has a bunch in her hands. It's time she came back.

Gwyn stuck her tongue at him and moved towards the largest Lillie which also happened to be farthest. She stepped forward one step and immediately was pulled underwater, her scream cutting off before it could even begin.

"GWYNNN!!!" Azriel cried out. He plunged into the water, his siphons blaring. She would be alright. She has to be alright. If not...He would kill whoever decided to drag her. He would not allow anyone to hurt her on his watch. She was 𝘩𝘪𝘴 friend.

No...She was more than a friend.

He moved to where she was standing and looked around. There was no sign of her other than the ripples.

Where is she? Panic flooded him.

"GWYN....." He turned around and looked everywhere. Pulling the truth teller out he inhaled deep and dived under. He couldn't find her. He came up gasping for air and looked around waiting for any sign. His heart was beating wild. Fear unlike anything he ever experienced washed over him. His shadows hadn't warned him. Why hadn't they warned him?

Suddenly he heard a splash behind and felt pressure of fingers on his shoulders. Before he could do anything he was underwater. He tried to kick whoever was clutching him but the fingers pressed firm. As sudden as it came the pressure vanished the next second. He rose up with a gasp ready to kill anything that hurt her and him only to find Gwyn laughing.

He froze.

She was soaked fully. Her hair and robes clinged to her face, to which she paid no attention. Her head was tilted back, neck baring as she let out the most beautiful voice Azriel has ever heard. He continued looking at her as if hypnotised. The panic of not finding her slowly started to recede. He wanted her to always laugh like this. Something in her laugh filled his heart to the point he feared it would burst. She was still smiling when she looked at him.

"You're so easy to fool" Gwyn bit her lips to contain her laugh. She had fooled him. Azriel threw her a hard look which made her burst out of laughing again. "Look at you all worried for me" Gwyn cooed.

"Very funny Gwyneth. You almost sent me to the Mother" Azriel uttered.

"Aww don't be mad, Shadowsinger. I was just messing with you. I have to say it was cute seeing you jump in to save me like my own personal saviour." Gwyn smiled.

Azriel shook his head.

This woman is going to be the death of him.

"Promise me that you won't do that again Gwyn. I can't handle it. " Azriel blurted out. He hasn't experienced that kind of fear in years. The thought of Gwyn leaving him was enough to bleed his heart that had come to long for her. He couldn't help it . He cupped her face in one hand and gingerly tucked away a strand of her hair.

He heard her breath hitch and her pulse started racing as he brought his head closer to hers and rested his forehead against her.

"I can't lose you. You're too important." He whispered, eyes closed.

He didn't clarify why she was important. Didn't have the courage to do it and face rejection. Never had he dared to think that aloud, much less say it. And here he was saying it.

Cauldron he was saying it!

He expected Gwyn to slap his arms away or back away from him. He expected her to gently reject him. After all that was what he has received so far from others. He didn't have hope.

But to his surprise a warm hand slipped into his. Gwyn exhaled a breath as if she was relieved and leaned against the hand cupping her. It was Azriel's turn to freeze.

"You know I can't promise you that, Azriel." She smiled against his hand.

She looked at him from her lashes and brought her palm to caress his face. His eyes closed involuntarily as her hands graced his cheek. When he opened them Gwyn was smiling. Her lips twisted to show him the beautiful smile he has come to treasure.

"Loosen up Shadowsinger." She murmured, her teal eyes twinkling under the sunlight.

So he did. Standing in the water with one of his hands cupping Gwyn's cheek, her doing the same thing, both soaked and cold, he finally allowed himself to admit the truth he had known for some time and smile.

A smile of pure happiness.

#gwynriel #gwynriel one shot #gwynriel fanfiction #azriel #acosf #gwynriel weeks 2024 #gwynrielweeks2024 #gwyneth berdara #acotar

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daevastanner · 2 months

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Halfbreeds

My contribution for Gwynriel weeks2024 is this Gwynsand/dark!Gwyn fanfic. Please enjoy this extra moody first chapter now available on Ao3. Chapter 2 to come tomorrow!

r h y s a n d

Rhysand waited patiently in his office in the House of Wind for the next witness to arrive.

He’d been hearing testimonies from the priestesses of Sangravah all day.

Well, a few of them. Only the ones who had volunteered to relive the nightmares that had transpired, all in exchange for the chance they may get a morsel of justice.

The heavy oak door opened, and Clotho came striding into the warmly lit office, another unfamiliar acolyte behind her. With a gnarled hand, she gestured to the high-backed sitting chair in front of Rhysand’s mahogany desk.

The acolyte gave Clotho a hollow smile, nodding in confirmation that she could leave her alone with the High Lord.

With a bow of her head, Clotho retreated, the door clicking shut behind her.

Rhys took a moment to perceive the female before him. She had pin straight coppery hair, tucked behind her pointed ears. Her face was smattered with caramel colored freckles that contrasted starkly against her sallow complexion.

No doubt Sangravah had taken its toll on her.

She gave Rhys that same empty smile she’d given Clotho. The expression did not meet her large, teal eyes, the skin beneath them bearing bruise-like smudges. He recognized the expression. He’d worn it plenty of times after he’d returned from Under the Mountain. It was the smile he donned when he could feel the phantom scratch of Amarantha’s nails, the echo of her gluttonous moans.

Rhys returned the priestess’s polite smile, shoving his ghosts to the back of his mind. He leaned his elbows on his desk, trying to appear at ease. “Let’s get introductions out of the way. My name is Rhysand, I am High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Acolyte Gwyneth Berdara, formerly of the Temple of Sangravah,” she replied primly although her voice was slightly hoarse.

Rhys arched a brow attempting to keep things conversational. “Gwyneth Berdara? You’re one of the priestesses who have accepted postage at The House of Wind.”

He’d given all the acolytes from Sangravah two options upon their relocating. A post: serving in the House of Wind with a private room in the library dormitories, including access to regular counseling sessions; or passage: an escort to their family or friends after assessment by healers.

The choice was theirs.

Most of this particular lot accepted passage, with only ten requesting a post.

One of those ten, being Gwyneth Berdara.

“I look forward to beginning my service,” Gwyneth said with a slight bow of her head. There was a faint glimmer in her eyes, one that hadn’t been there before. “If there has been one bit of hope in the past week, it’s that I may do some good in the High Lord’s name.”

The way she spoke wasn’t as though she wished to appease him, but not insincere. It was almost admiring, yet bashful. Like speaking to your greatest hero, or happening upon your most respected artist. He would gladly receive her praise if it alleviated the weight of the ghosts bearing down on her.

As though sensing his assessment, Gwyn’s cheeks pinkened. “I’m just very familiar with your policies in Velaris and the work you’ve done for the females of Illyria. Not to mention the orphans of the Capital cities.”

Rhys smiled, heat blooming in his own cheeks at the enthusiasm in her reply. “I wasn’t aware anyone was monitoring my policies.”

“I have been,” Gwyn said. A beat passed, then, “I specialized in the care of the orphans at Sangravah. And my twin and I are— were nymphs.”

He heard the unspoken words in the latter-half of the sentence.

‘I’m a halfbreed too.’

He shrugged his shoulders. “Genetic status is irrelevant in the Velaris—“

“Thanks to you,” Gwyneth finished, then ducked her head, seemingly embarrassed. “My lord.”

Right, well, perhaps she’d be comfortable enough to discuss her thoughts on his policies with him in a few years. Once she’d acclimated. If she had positive opinions, she’d certainly have negative ones, and it had been a long time since someone who didn’t know Rhys intimately had critiqued him.

“Well, I appreciate you volunteering for both the library and this interview, Priestess,” Rhysand said. “May I explain how you will be giving your testimony?”

Gwyneth bobbed her head, that broken smile resurfacing on her lips.

Rhysand explained how he intended to utilize his daemati magic to view the events of her memories from the attack on Sangravah. He’d then use the information he found to look for any familiar faces or weak points in their enemy’s defenses.

“If the use of my gift gives you pause, I’ll happily take a verbal account,” Rhys finished.

Gwyneth’s mouth was pressed in a flat line, all color drained from her face. “Which is more helpful?”

Rhys felt his stomach sink. What she had lived through had to be too traumatic to recount verbally, especially with so little time to process whatever had occurred.

At least using his daemati magic, Rhysand would be sifting through her mind alone, with her no wiser as to the contents he was making note of.

“Strictly speaking, mental accounts are more reliable and while most invasive, require you to remember less details. Those who choose verbal typically take issue with the intimate nature of my gifts. It’s a matter of comfortability.”

Gwyneth Berdara nodded, chewing her lower lip, then finally said, “I’d rather you get as much detail as possible to apprehend the responsible parties. I trust you to use your abilities honorably.”

Rhys dipped his head. “While your trust is not misplaced, Priestess, I appreciate it all the same. If you could just–”

“On one condition, please, my lord.”

His brows rose at the distressed creases lining her forehead, indicating it had taken great courage for her to speak up. He nodded for her to continue.

“I would ask,” Gwyneth began, “that whatever you see does not alter the way you have regarded me since I entered this office. I’ve… I’ve had enough pity.”

Rhys felt a frown tug at the corners of his lips. He knew all about pity. To his knowledge, many priestesses and children had seen immeasurable horrors during the attacks. Morrigan and Azriel had plenty of accounts they’d relayed with somber eyes while nursing their respective glasses of alcohol.

“On my word as High Lord of the Night Court, you will have no pity from me, Gwyneth Berdara.”

On my word as someone who has had his fill of pity as well…

Gwyneth’s answering smile was feeble and forced, but true. “Then we may proceed. Tell me what is needed of me.”

Rhys instructed the priestess to relax as best she could and close her eyes. She may feel a slight probing within her skull, and if at any point she did not wish to continue, she need only say so. Verbally or mentally, he would pick up on her request and withdraw immediately.

She had no questions, only took a steeling breath and leaned back in her seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her eyes slid shut, lips pressed in a tight line once more. “I’m ready,” she said softly.

Rhysand concentrated on her, carefully setting aside his sympathies. Only when her shoulders relaxed did he close his own eyes, and dive in.

Read the rest on Ao3

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #gwynriel supremacy #gwyn and azriel #acotar fanfiction #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #ao3 #gwynsand friendship #gwynriel weeks 2024 #rhysand and gwyn #acosf

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sunshinebingo · 1 month

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@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 11 - Alternate Universe

Synopsis: Feeling restless, Gwyn watches the rain from inside the library at Rosehall. When she is unexpectedly joined by Azriel, she realises that perhaps her dear friend could be the one to answer the question that has been plaguing her mind and keeping her from sleep.

A Gwynriel Regency AU inspired by the Bridgerton series.

Word Count: 4k

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

On the summer of 1813, sitting in the large library of Rosehall manor with her head pressed against the window while it rained cats and dogs outside, Gwyneth Berdara pondered. There was nothing unusual in the fact that she was partaking in the act itself. What was odd, however, was the subject that seemed to have taken her mind hostage to the point where she felt so restless that she had to leave the comfortable bed of the guest room that she had been assigned for the duration of her stay. She didn’t know why she was thinking about this so much but she knew that it was the novel she had been reading for the past day that had triggered the thoughts that had gotten her out of bed in the middle of the night, when the air inside the manor was so still that even the place seemed deep in sleep.

She opened the window just enough to let some air in. The flame of the candle that sat on the cherry wood table behind moved more wildly but did not snuff out. Gwyn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as the cool breeze caressed her heated cheeks and blew her unbound hair away from her face. For a moment, the smell of rain and trees brought her 18 years back, to her childhood bedroom painted in soft blues and white – similar colours to her current room in London – where she had often sat by the window just like tonight to read or to simply stare at the beauty that was Ireland in Spring, or any season really. 18 years and she still missed the air of the country enough to revel in it every chance she got. Rosehall reminded her of how much she loved the greens and the outside; walking bare feet in the grass, swimming in a lake or a river somewhere no one could see, the freedom, the quiet and peace.

Gwyn had been 10 years old when her family had left Ireland to settle in England after her father’s death from an illness a few months prior. It had been at her brother’s request that the Lady Berdara, formerly Miss Vanserra, and her two daughters had moved to London where the rest of her family still resided. Gwyn had been in awe of London even before their carriage had stopped before the grand house that had already been prepared for them. The streets had been busy with the comings and goings of everyone who had already left their country estate to come to the city for the marriage season. Everything was so different.

While her twin, Catrin, had run straight to her new bedroom, Gwyn had sneaked out that day past the trunks and boxes filled with their belongings that were being moved into their new house to explore the outside. The green of the grass had reminded her of the hills that she saw every day from their manor back home. She knew that the garden, no matter how pretty it was, would not replace the view she had there. It was too confined with its tall hedges and limited space to run around. There were not enough big trees that she could climb and sit in to read quietly.

However, one thing had made the garden and life in London much better than Gwyn could have imagined. It had started with the – rather loud – whispered voices she had heard and who were wondering who she was. She had soon found out, after peering her head through the hole in the hedge through which they had been trying to see her, that the voices belonged to her neighbours, Nesta Archeron and Emerie Windhaven and that the latter’s house was right in the middle of hers and Nesta’s. Their friendship had started when Emerie had pointed out that she didn’t understand half of the words that Gwyn had said when she introduced herself and had wondered why they were being so nosy. Gwyn had laughed which had then sent the three girls into a fit of giggles. Although she had lost the thick Irish accent she had when she left her home country, it was still evident today to anyone with ears that she was not born in England – if the fact that she had coppery-reddish hair was not clue enough that is.

Till this day, there were still barely concealed holes in the hedges surrounding the girls’ houses that they had used to visit each other. Although Gwyn and Em didn’t use Nesta’s one since the day she had eloped to marry Cassian, the man she had hated and loved so fiercely. She had a feeling that the one between hers and Emerie’s house would not be in use for much longer either. Gwyn knew that Emerie was close to saying hang society and run away from her home too. That house wasn’t her friend’s home anyway. Emerie’s home was wherever Morrigan was, regardless of what their families had to say. And currently, it was at Rosehall Manor where it’s Lord, the Earl himself, had invited his brothers and closest friends to spend the summer with him.

“What are you doing?”

As though the mere thought of him was enough to summon him, Gwyn’s musings were interrupted by his warm and rich voice. He sounded like he had just come out of bed. By the look of it when she turned her head to the left, she assumed that he probably did. Azriel stood barefoot at the door, his hair looking as though he had fought with a harsh wind. He wore what seemed to be his sleeping pants and a white shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. She knew it wasn’t proper to stare, but she couldn’t bring her eyes to look away when the single candle in the room was illuminating his tanned skin in that subtle way and making his hazel eyes glow in such a beautiful way.

Azriel followed the direction of her gaze and looked down. Gwyn blushed, looking away and closing her mouth that she hadn’t known was open like a dead fish, when she realised that he had noticed where her eyes had been lingering. He huffed a small laugh before bringing his hands to his chest to button his shirt up.

Azriel cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your quiet time, Miss Berdara.”

Gwyn brought her feet down from the ledge of the window and adjusted her nightdress. There was nothing exceedingly scandalous about the long white dress she wore, but had she known that she would have stumbled upon other people at this time of the night, she would have bothered to put on a robe regardless.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Can it really be called intruding when it’s your own home? And please, you can drop the formalities. We are far away from eyes that can be scandalised simply from a tap on the shoulder.”

Everyone who was currently residing at the manor called each other by their first name, including Azriel’s mother who was used to the close bond that they all had with each other. It was not the case however when they were in company of other people where they were expected to use titles for the sake of decorum. It would be particularly scandalous for Gwyn and Azriel to use their first names with each other in public when they were neither married nor courting. Even the extent of their friendship could be deemed inappropriate.

Azriel laughed as he walked and sat next to her on the window ledge, adjusting himself until one of his legs was crossed on the other and his back rested against the wall. Gwyn turned to her side so she could face him. His mother would probably frown at him for sitting so close to an unmarried woman but they had sat much closer before. Close enough for him to rest his head on her shoulder as they read together, or close enough for her to whisper a joke to him at the expense of their friends.

Gwyn had met Azriel – Lord Azriel Allen or simply Lord Allen when among polite society – two years ago, at the time when his chosen brother, Rhysand Night, the famous Duke of Velaris, had started courting Nesta’s youngest sister, Feyre. Courting might not be the correct term but only their close circle knew of the circumstances that had led the pair to fake a courtship which had eventually turned into a true love match. It was at that time that Nesta had met her ‘nemesis turned love of her life’. One could say that Gwyn and Azriel’s first meeting was quite…surprising. Especially since it had left Gwyn in shock and Azriel with a bloodied hand after he had punched, repeatedly, a man who had tried to take liberties with her in a discreet corner of one of the endless parties that she had to attend during the season. Gwyn had left that evening with the hope of having made a new friend in Azriel and a new feeling that friends and her blood relations were the only thing that the future held for her.

Gwyn’s mother had been hopeful that living among the ton would be an opportunity for her twin daughters to make good matches when the time would come for them to marry. But Gwyn had been out in society since she was 18 years old and ten years had not brought anyone who could convince her to settle down. Gwyn’s twin had been lucky to find her happiness at the end of their very first season out. Catrin now lived several hours away from London with her husband and their son. Catrin had been trying to expand her family, especially since learning that their cousin, Lucien, and his wife Elain, the second Archeron daughter out of three, were expecting their second child. Gwyn smiled at the thought of the lovebirds who were even more in love with each other 5 years into their marriage as they had been on the very first day they had met.

It was not so much that Gwyn had been picky with her suitors. She might have been a little. But she mostly felt like she hadn’t been lucky. Ever since she could walk and talk, Gwyn had been taught what a lady should expect to be, which mostly summed up to being married and making babies. And ever since she could read, she had learned that there was so much more to it. There was more to marriage than acquiring wealth and making arrangements between families; there were feelings that some people were convinced weren’t needed for a marriage to work and other things said between pages of books that proper ladies weren’t allowed to read. It all seemed like a fantasy but deep down she wanted it to be real.

She had decided soon in life that she did not want to be someone’s doll. She did not want someone who would treat her like she was simply here to plan tea parties and make babies just for the sake of the ton’s eyes. Her mother had warned her many times that she would end up a spinster if she continued that way. “Better a content spinster than being not worth more than a horse in the eyes of an indifferent husband,” she always thought but did not always say. She knew her mother meant well. But she hoped for more. She knew it wasn’t impossible. She saw it in her sister’s marriage and that of her friends. It was not like she would go out of her ways to find what they had all found. She was very content the way she was. But knowing that love existed, she knew that she could not settle for less.

“You couldn’t sleep?”

Gwyn shook her head at his question.

“Is your room not comfortable enough?”

“No. I mean yes, its very comfortable,” she tried to explain before he proposed to give her another room. God knew that there were enough rooms in his manor to welcome the entire ton.

“I was just thinking about something.”

Azriel bumped his leg against her knee. “What something?”

Gwyn thought of the novel that she had left on the bed upstairs and the words she had read in it.

“I don’t want to tell you,” she replied with a shrug.

He raised an eyebrow at her. The candle on the table was the single source of light in the library but Gwyn didn’t need any light to discern the silent words spoken by his eyes.

“I am not certain that you are the best person to talk about such things with.”

Azriel placed a hand on his heart as though she had physically wound him. “Well, you didn’t have to hurt my feelings.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him. “It is not your feelings that are hurt but your ego.”

Azriel shook his head and laughed again. Gwyn stared and stared at him. The passages she had read in that book bounced around her head, putting forth images that her mother would faint to see and desires that some men would flock before her house to hear about. It was far from the first book that Gwyn had read that made her think such things. She suddenly felt like she wanted to tell him what was on her mind. Not the images. That would be going too far. But she wanted to talk about it. And he was the first person available.

“Can I ask you something?” Her voice was barely above the sound of the heavy rain pouring outside.

Azriel’s smile softened as he looked at her. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“How does one know, in the moment, if they are good at sex?”

By the way Azriel went still, Gwyn thought that perhaps she could tell him anything but this. She felt the intensity of his gaze on her until he finally seemed to remember that her question had remained unanswered.

“Have you...” he trailed off.

Gwyn furrowed her brows for a moment until his implication clicked in her head.

“Sorry...”

“No,” she exclaimed at the same time as him.

“I mean, it’s none of my business. Unless someone...Oh god, Gwyn.” He moved forward and took her hands in his. “Did someone manipulated you into doing something?”

“No. Azriel no.” Her confirmation seemed to loosen a tension in him. “I was just wondering,” she admitted.

“Why?”

Gwyn could have laughed at him and retorted that it was inappropriate of him to ask why but then she would have to laugh at herself for asking the question that had led him to wonder the why. So, she shrugged flippantly instead.

“I just want to know. Such information could help me someday.”

Azriel squeezed her hands. She knew that they were tempting scandal by ignoring propriety and even more with this conversation. But there wasn’t anyone here to witness any of this. Also, propriety had always been quite overlooked among their group of friends. Except when they were in public, when surrounded by their friends only, the couples never tried to hide their affection or conceal their...urges. Gwyn liked the way they openly showed their love. It was like their love was so grand that they couldn’t keep it all in. Though some things were best kept in. Gwyn’s ears and eyes had been assaulted more times that she could count in the week since she had been here.

“How much do you know about sex, Gwyneth?”

Gwyn sat straighter but didn’t let go of his hands. She held his gaze, emboldened by the fact that he did not treat her like an innocent little thing. They were close friends after all, she reminded herself. They had seen each other’s tears and had accidentally fallen asleep on the same couch.

“I might not have much experience but I do have extensive theoretical knowledge on the subject. Enough that I do not require the little talk that all ladies get prior to their wedding night.”

Azriel raised a brow. Gwyn was tempted to stare and stare at him again.

“Although, I have little enough knowledge in the practice of it that I had hoped to indulge in learning everything that my husband would be willing to teach me.”

The light from the candle flickered in his eyes, making the hazel shine as if from a fire within. Gwyn wondered what good she had done to have been blessed by the presence of such a magnificent man.

“I have read this book that has made me think about it. And I wonder whether it’s too much to ask of a partner to wish to learn from me.”

Gwyn thought back to the book again and how the protagonist, a woman with years of experience in the art of sex, had been praised by her partner for everything she had done to him and how, in several passages, she had gone on saying how grateful she was for her own experience before him.

“I was hoping that my partner would also find some things to learn from me. It sounds silly to say this with my lack of experience. But I was truly hoping to find someone who wants me, and is not just settling for the first random person just to have a wife. As such, I was hoping that they would find the experience with me to be...” She pursed her lips while searching for the right word, “...not akin to lying with every other woman.”

Gwyn had never tried to seek pleasure from anyone but herself. Her decision to wait for love extended beyond marriage. But now she wondered whether she should do what she usually did with every task she set her mind to and practice until she became perfect at it.

“But now I’m wondering,” she continued, “What if I have waited all this time and I’m just...not enough.”

The gentle caress of Azriel’s thumbs over the back of her hand send shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the breeze coming in.

“If I may be bold enough to tell you something, I –”

“You may,” she interrupted, earning a smirk from Azriel that made her heart flip.

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to be bad at it.”

At the sceptical look on her face, Azriel continued, every single one of his words meant to reassure her.

“I can’t force you to believe me. But I can assure you that sex isn’t a game of who knows more of what. It’s about being together and enjoying each other.”

A strong wind blew, some of it made it through the slightly opened window. It sent a strand of Gwyn’s hair floating in front of her eyes. Azriel’s hand was faster in reaching it. He twirled it around his finger a few times before tucking it behind her ear. Gwyn held her breath for the whole time his fingers drifted from her ear, down her jaw, before he cupped her cheek.

“Trust me Gwyn. Whatever you do will be more than enough. Because it’s you. Because you’re perfect.”

She sighed. She knew she was blushing even before she noticed his eyes travelling across her nose and cheeks, his thumb soon doing the same. He had done this on the day he had told her that he enjoyed making her blush as much as he liked making her smile.

“In that book I read,” Gwyn leaned forward and brought her face closer to his. “It said that the act of sex is different from the act of love. The author added that only those who are lucky enough to make love at least once in their life will understand the vast difference between simply chasing release and giving yourself body and soul to your partner.”

She looked at him, at his lips then at that fire in his eyes that lit up her whole being.

“I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with only chasing release. But the way she describes the latter makes one want to pray harder to find the perfect partner.”

Gwyn had an idea why Azriel was still unmarried at the age of 32. He had confessed to her of the bitter feeling that his parents’ marriage had left in him. In this moment, sitting in the library of Rosehall while it rained, the only witnesses being the silent books and the single candle in the room, Azriel held onto Gwyn’s hand for dear life and looked at her like she had dreamt for some time that he would.

“How would you describe the perfect partner?” he asked.

A single word was on the tip of her tongue. But she swallowed it and forced others to come forth. Words that she had told herself like a list before, repeating them in her head every time she refused a suitor and every time her mother reminded her that she was close to becoming a spinster. But it was only now that she felt the depths of her own words. Suddenly they weren’t just a series of requirements that she was saying out loud. They were words spoken from the heart. A plea, almost a summon.

“Someone you care for. Not someone that you choose because it is required of you. But someone that you want so much that your heart needs them. Someone who, even if you see their flaws and don’t like them every minute of every day – God knows some people are not always tolerable,” she muttered the last sentence with a pointed look at him and waited for his inevitable chuckle before she continued, “- you still love them. To me, the perfect partner is a friend. One that you want to give yourself to body and soul.”

His thumb moved to her lips where he traced them from one corner to the other. “Can I tell you a secret, Gwyneth?”

Gwyn nodded when she found herself unable to form words. He smiled, eyes fixed on her lips as though they were pulling him in.

“I have a friend like the kind you speak of. That single friend who I love so dearly that I wish she would have me body and soul.”

She didn’t know her free hand had moved but when she felt a beating heart beneath her palm, she suddenly realised that her hand was now on his chest. The other one would be shaking if he wasn’t holding it so firmly.

“I have that one friend too,” she admitted, her face inching closer and closer to his.

Another strong wind whooshed, opening the window widely and snuffing out the candle at the same time lightning illuminated the whole room. A loud thunder followed right behind. But Gwyn neither saw nor heard any of it. The only thing left to her was Azriel’s hands holding her and his lips as he kissed her.

#this feels weird to me #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #fluff #gwynriel weeks 2024 #gwynrielweeks #gwynrielweeks2024 #gwynriel fic #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel fanfiction

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hlizr50 · 1 month

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I didn't predict my first contribution to Gwynriel Weeks 2024 being an all-consuming sequel to a friend's fic, but here we are @gwynrielweeksofficial

It's just convenient that it fits well enough with Day 9: Music

This is a sequel to Humming of the Heart, posted by @sunshinebingo for Day 6: Mates. It was such delicious, heartbreaking groundwork that I felt the overwhelming need to give it a happy ending.

So, without further ado, may I present:

A Symphony of Two

Read on AO3

Two years.

Two years since that hum had begun, low and steady. If his heart was a metronome, the beat that guided the rhythm of his life, then the quiet thrum of the mating bond was the long, sweeping notes of the cello, just waiting for the orchestra to enter. To match their melody to his sorrowful, lonely harmony.

Two years since his mate had run from him, the salt of her tears bitter on his tongue. Or perhaps those were his own.

From all the stories he’d been told – the legends – Azriel had expected the loss to drive him nearly mad. True, the year that passed between that fateful day and his first day of training had been long and bitter and dark, but he’d been perfectly able to appreciate the bright moments, too. The addition of Feyre into their circle, into the family. The victory over Hybern and the Cauldron. There were so many things to be grateful for. So many times he had grinned.

And yet, that humming in his heart remained.

He’d realized, after a solid month of wallowing, that Gwyneth Berdara hadn’t rejected the mating bond. At least not officially, apparently, by whatever great magic decided those things. Did that mean he stood a chance? Not by any stretch of the imagination. But at least he hadn’t been made feral.

Well, perhaps he was feral.

Not because his mate had denied him the bond that he’d craved for centuries – the proof that he was a male worthy of love and happiness. No, the potential loss of his Cauldron-chosen partner warranted little of his attention anymore.

No, it was that he’d spent the last year watching Gwyneth Berdara bloom before his very eyes, a beautiful, delicate lily that had finally been showered in sunlight. Gone was the timid priestess who had given him an uncertain smile the first day he’d assisted with training. Now, in the pastels that were lighting the dawn sky, stood a warrior with a quick wit, a mischievous glint her eye, a powerful body, and a confidence that could outshine the sun.

Every day he’d watched, keeping a polite distance whilst his heart and mind and soul warred, that hum a constant undercurrent to every moment of tension, every glance, every smile, every proud observation. Azriel couldn’t deny that there was something that tugged at him ceaselessly, pulling him toward the Valkyrie who was the first to cut the ribbon.

But it wasn’t the mating bond. It was just… her.

To his surprise and his utter delight, their estrangement hadn’t lasted long. Azriel had been charmed by her irreverence from the moment she’d had the courage to show it, and he’d been practically enamored ever since. They’d become friends over daggers and punches during sleepless nights. Gwyn had gifted him smiles more luminous than the moon could ever hope to be, and she’d pulled so much laughter from him that he almost feared for his infamous Spymaster reputation.

The shadowsinger had never told her about those long, sleepless nights, poring over reports and maps, when he’d felt the pluck of that constantly thrumming chord. Sharp and sudden, the fleeting, phantom terror and desperation almost real enough to grip between his scarred fingers. He wondered if Gwyn felt his nightmares as keenly as he felt hers, and cursed himself that they might add to her sleepless nights. If she did, she never shared. But they would both inevitably find their way back to each other in the training ring, where they would battle their demons together.

“I’m sure that, as Spymaster, you’ve developed quite a talent for lurking, Shadowsinger. But it is quite impolite.”

Gwyn hadn’t turned to face him the entire time he’d been perched at the edge of the doorway. But, of course, that never seemed to matter. Was it the bond that made her so aware of him? Or was it more than that? With a chuckle he stepped into the morning light, flaring his wings to feel the warmth of the sun’s first rays as he joined her at the edge of the ring, her feet dangling precariously over the edge.

“You shouldn’t sit like that. You could fall to your death,” he mused, sitting down next to her. Close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body, but far enough to be proper.

Close enough for her to bump her shoulder against his playfully. “But I have a big strong male with wings sitting right next to me. Surely he would be chivalrous enough to take flight and save me.”

Azriel couldn’t help but huff a small laugh, even as he rolled his eyes. “Chivalrous winged males cannot save you when you’re sitting on a ledge alone, Berdara,” he scolded, earning nothing more than an apathetic hum in reply. So stubborn, she was. Nearly reckless in her contentment. His shadows danced lazily around them both as he gazed upon her, drinking her in like a male dying of thirst.

The priestess had tilted her chin, angling her face to be warmed completely by the sun as it continued to rise over the horizon. Her skin had taken on more color as training had progressed, staining her cheeks a near-permanent pink, and her freckles had multiplied, splattering over her cheeks to outnumber the stars in the night sky. Azriel often found himself wanting to count them, connect them, commit them to memory.

Clarity struck him like the tip of a spear, aimed at his heart. While the bond had thrummed incessantly behind his ribs, what he felt for the redhead beside him went far beyond mystical magic and power matches. The deep pit of despair and icy rage that had sharpened him when she’d been stolen and dropped into the Blood Rite – those were not the bond’s doing, but his own thawing heart. The smiles and the laughter and the heated debates over the best way to take one’s tea – those intimacies were not forged by a mystical cauldron or a deity in the heavens.

It was her. It was him. It was them.

The Cauldron didn’t always choose mates that were compatible beyond the power games of the fae. His brothers had just been extremely lucky.

Perhaps Azriel was just lucky, too. But only if Gwyn felt the same.

The silence stretched, with the Valkyrie smiling gently into the sun as his shadows drifted and his lungs filled and the hum lifted, singing to him with a siren’s song. Beckoning. Encouraging.

“Do you still feel it?”

He didn’t know if it was a question so much as a plea. Please, still feel it, his heart beckoned. Please want to.

Gwyn’s eyes were wide and gleaming like the Sidra at midday as she jerked her chin toward him, rosy lips parted in surprise. Her expression softened after only a moment, a sad smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“Every day.”

Azriel swallowed, an effort to dislodge the lump in his throat. He’d wondered about this for a few weeks, now. Wondered whether he should tell her. Whether he should try to reach out to her, try to acknowledge this link between them.

Mother knew where the courage came from, but he summoned it with a deep inhale and placed his scarred hand over hers on the stone.

“I feel it, too.”

He hated the way that her eyes shuddered, growing dark with uncertainty. “Az—”

“You told me two years ago…” his voice drifted off, realization dawning on him.

Fuck… this was really it. He was doing this.

“You wished for me to find someone that could see all of me,” Azriel continued, thumb absently drifting over her knuckles. “Do you?”

“I do,” Gwyn whispered. He smiled, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I do, Gwyn. I could never forget that day,” he admitted, then continued before she could respond, “You also told me that you wished for me to find someone who could match my beauty and strength and courage. Someone truly deserving of me.”

“Azriel—”

He lifted his hands before her eyes, a silent question, and her breath hitched even as she nodded, silver tears flowing over her lashes. Azriel cupped her cheeks in his palms, brushing away those tiny droplets as he stared deep into her stormy blue eyes.

“Gwyneth Berdara. You are the strongest, bravest person I think I’ve ever known. You could have stayed in the Library forever, shielded from the outside world, and nobody could have ever judged you for it. And yet… you didn’t. I have watched you build your confidence and hone your body. I’ve been blessed to get to know you and laugh with you, to call you my friend. I’ve had a spectacular vantage point to watch as you have blossomed into the fierce, incredible female that you are.” The words were a declaration. A vow. A plea. Everything. Azriel laid himself bare before her, praying that she understood how wrong she was those years ago. “If anything, it’s me that doesn’t deserve you.”

His favorite Valkyrie sniffled, doing her best to shake her head as he held it. That was the only sound, and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest if she didn’t answer, and soon.

Gwyn’s palms were warm over his fingers – holding him, holding her. “You deserve the world, Azriel. I just,” she hesitated, taking a shaky breath, “I just don’t know if I can give it to you.”

It was Azriel’s turn to shake his head, his unruly hair falling in front of his eyes until he shook it away again.

“I don’t need the world, Berdara. I just want you,” he murmured, watching her expressive face for every twitch and hit of reaction. She was never able to hide her feelings from him, not with the way her eyes would widen and her lips would hitch for a moment. A tiny smile lifted one corner of her mouth, but her gaze was still unsure. So he plunged onward, “You said back then that you were broken. I think you know, by now, that I am, too. Maybe our broken pieces will fit together. Maybe that’s how it was always supposed to be.”

He pulled away for only a moment before reaching for her again, grasping at her fingertips and gripping one of her hands between his.

“There’s no pressure. No expectation. I care for you deeply, Gwyn. Not because some magical relic proclaimed it, but because I have been blessed to know you. I only humbly pray that you might want to give this a chance. Because the only person who fits all those criteria you so thoughtfully laid out – what feels like a lifetime ago – is you.”

Azriel had always known that Gwyn’s smile was a wonder, incandescent and genuine and joyful. But seeing it now, as he begged her to step fully into whatever this thing between them could be, felt like flying.

“You want me, Shadowsinger?” she breathed on a wet little disbelieving huff. He grinned back at her.

“I do, Berdara,” he confirmed. And then she laughed with all of her voice, a melody of bells and harps and strings finally joining that cello humming in his heart, and threw herself into his chest, her arms circling his neck.

“I want you, too,” she whispered as he wrapped her in his embrace.

And his shadows sang along, the symphony complete.

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