#I start sobbing when gwyn shows up

[fixationrambles37]

No matter how many times I rewatch Lone Star, I will always be crying at the Tarlos Wedding.

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Alliance Maker - Chapter 5

Summary: Training leads to many unexpected events. With even more questions forming within the heads of the Inner Circle and the Valkyrie.

Pairing: Slow burn!Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings: sparring, weapons, fire, anxiety, swearing, ritas, I think that's it.

Word count: 1476

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Training the next morning started out well. You impressed the group quickly with your advanced skill and ability to work in a team. Even though Nesta trusted you without hesitation Cassian had been wearily eyeing you all morning. You could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin. Emerie and Gwyn had been quick to trust you however, full faith in the judgment of their best friend. 

“Here, why don’t you show me what you can do hand to hand?” Emerie took the sword you had been slashing a dummy with and set it on the sword rack. You gave her a thankful smile for saving you from the lull of boredom you had found yourself in. She grabbed a few bandages from the table and divided them between herself and you. You slipped your gloves off and began to wrap your hands as you spoke to her about the camp she came from. She gave you a few mild answers not yet ready to dive into the full conversation of the hell she went through there everyday. 

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You placed yourself in a casual position, feet shoulder width apart and your hands on your hips. The winged Female came to stand in front of you and took up a defensive position. Her wings spread out behind her, feet spread apart and hands at the ready. You quirked one eyebrow up at her before nodding at her, giving her the go ahead to attack. She was rushing forwards in an instance, you sidestepped her first swing throwing your leg out grazing her shin enough to have her stumbling for a few steps. 

“Come on now Emerie, you don’t need to go easy on me. I can handle it.” The tone of your voice was teasing as she let out a sigh. Her feet finally steadied her and she was twirling around ready to attack again. You could see Nesta and Gwyn out of the corner of your eye, watching you both as you bobbed and weaved past each other. You had your wings out but kept them tightly tucked in behind you.  

“I’ll buy the first one that lands a hit, a drink at Rita’s later.” Nesta’s steely voice spoke up as you dodged another punch from the female in front of you. 

“What is Rita’s?” You threw the question out for one of them to answer. But your eyes remained on Emerie. You could feel sweat starting to coat your heated skin. 

“It’s a pleasure hall down in town.” Gwyn’s light voice spoke from beside Nesta. A good balance from the coldness that Nesta’s voice held. A numbing sensation started to prick along your limbs. 

“I could definitely use a drink.” You and Emerie both said at the same time, causing a laugh from the four of you. You urged the ache starting to develop inside you to dull. The sensation wasn’t new to you but it didn’t make it any better when it happened. 

“Sorry Emerie.” As the words left your mouth Emerie hesitated, you used the opportunity to grab the front of her shirt. Your fingers fisting the material tightly before you shoved some of your weight into her and she slammed against the floor. 

“Fuck.” was the only word that came from her mouth as she struggled to catch her breath. The impact of the fall had knocked the air right out of her. You let out a muffled grunt as you fell to your knees beside her feet. Your hands wrapped around your middle as your wings unraveled and enclosed you within them. 

A burning sensation started to overtake your body. You could feel something trying to claw its way out of your skin. Desperate for air to brush against it. The clothes laying upon your skin started to feel suffocating. The leather seemingly choking the oxygen from within you. A sob wracked your body as your fingers flexed and your nails itched. Your vision went in and out of focus as you tried to ground yourself back to your body.

“She’s burning up.” You weren’t sure who said it, or where they were at but all that you knew was that the words rang true. You could feel yourself starting to lose control. Your teeth ground against each other in an attempt to clamp down on the fire within your veins. A shaky breath left your body, steam coming out as the air left your lips.   

“Can you hear me?” A voice that seemed to be much closer than before asked you. But the only answer you could give was a twitch of your wings that were still placed around you. A black and blue shield, guarding you from prying eyes or guarding the prying eyes from the wrath you were fighting against. The hands wrapped around your middle came up to squeeze the sides of your head as a pounding throb smacked into the insides of your skull. 

Then your body shuttered in relief as cooling touches surrounded you. Brushing along your skin and weaving through your hair. Your lips parted in a moan as one of the cooling touches laid upon your sweat covered neck. The fingers that were squeezing your temples slipped away as more of the cooling touch came to rest upon them in their place. Moments passed as you basked in the icy feeling against your skin. Your hearing became clearer, the whispers from around you making you nervous. 

The cooling touches started to frantically move along you. Seemingly fighting against an unknown source. Then you felt the touches almost reluctantly pulling away from you. You blinked your eyes open slowly, catching a glimpse of black tendrils slipping underneath your wings. You fluttered the makeshift shields open hesitantly. You scanned your surroundings quickly, eyes landing on the forms of three females kneeling in front of you worry, hesitation and determination held within their respective gazes. 

Then your eyes flickered behind their crouched forms and took in the two males standing behind them. You shot back as your eyes connected to the unfamiliar one standing besides Cassian. You had gotten used to his apprehensive gaze throughout dinner last night and training this morning so it didn’t deter you now. However the look of fury that was being directed at you through hazel eyes had fear spiking through you. Your body was on high alert as you stared at him. The black tendrils that were with you moments before raced along his skin, grazing his ears. He stepped forward and even with the Females dividing you from him you still found yourself scooting farther away from him. Your entire being humming, wings twitching anxiously. 

“It’s okay you’re safe.” your gaze finally broke away from the stranger to the Females kneeling in front of you. It was Emerie who had spoken, her hands held out in front of her, showing you she wasn’t a threat. Her voice was dripping with worry. 

“What happened?” Nesta’s determined question had you digging your nails into the rock beneath you, welcoming the pain the action caused you. 

“That happens sometimes when I go too long between exerting all of my energy.” You knew it would be a waste of time and breath to lie to her so you had decided to go with the truth. 

“Are you okay?” A hesitant Gwyn piped up between Emerie and Nesta. 

“I am now, but I’m going to need a place to blow off some steam soon. If not, I'll go through that again.” You could still feel a dull ache within your body, a reminder to expel the pent up rage boiling within you soon. Cassian and the handsome stranger shared a look before they both nodded their heads. The silent conversation caused your stomach to twist in knots. 

“Let’s go and get clean and we can have lunch. Then maybe we can show you around the house.” Nesta stood from the floor and extended a hand your way which you immediately accepted. She helped to pull you up and you steadied on your feet quickly. You let her lead you away from the training space, Gwyn and Emerie both hot on your heels. As you slipped out however you heard two voices behind you. 

“I thought you were away Azriel.” You knew that deep voice was Cassian as you’d already accustomed yourself to the sound of his voice.

“I was in the middle of an interrogation when all of my fucking shadows slipped away from me in a mad dash. I followed them to see what was happening and it landed me here.” He had an annoyed edge to his tone. Clearly upset with being interrupted while he was close to getting the information he needed. That was the last you heard of the conversation before being whisked away.

A/N: I gave you guys some Azriel!!! I hope you all liked this part. As always likes, reblogs, comments and follows are welcome. I'm excited to get into the next part soon! I might go through and rewrite a bit of this because I wrote this so late in the day so it might be a little delirious at parts lol.

Tags(open): @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @kmc1989 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @luvmoo

[likecanyoujustnot]

ACOSF- Feysand’s pov

Part 3: The labour

A/n: last part 😤😤. Sorry it took so long. I hope I captured the emotions right. Feedback and even recs of what to write next is appreciated.

Again it’s really long.

Rhysand

Nesta had been kidnapped. Taken into the blood rite. The fucking blood rite. Fully grown Illyrian males went in there and didn’t come out alive.

Plus the other two. Gwyn and Emerie, Cassian had said.

I knew Gwyn, we had taken her in after what happened at Sangravah, offered her a place in the library, which she had gratefully accepted. I’d spoken to her on a few occasions, she’d gone through absolute hell at the hands of those Hybern commanders. I knew Azriel didn’t regret killing them.

And Emerie. One of the unlucky Valkyrie females to be clipped even after I made it illegal. She owned a shop in Windhaven, Cassian had visited there a few times before she went to the trainings. I’d winnowed her to training when I was free, spoken to her, got her recommendations on how to handle a few of the Illyrian issues with the females.

Feyre was stressed, three females were in the blood rite, Cassian and Azriel had gone to the continent to save Eris. Everything had gone to shit.

Even as High Lord I couldn’t interfere, it would give the Illyrians the right to hunt and kill me. Laws would not stop them if anyone stopped them from doing a millennias- old tradition.

I sat in my office, signing more papers. Building permits, shipping nonsense, etc.

Rhys

Gods I loved the sound of her voice. It come so close to losing her, thanks to my pride and tendency to burden all my problems alone. I’d spent the last months doing everything I could to make it up to her, but also to keep her happy and take both our minds off what was coming. I’d make her breakfast in bed, we’d take long walks across the Sidra, I’d show her my favourite places from the area surrounding Velaris. But it wasn’t enough. Sometimes I would catch her staring into space, hand on her stomach. I’d pull her into my arms and we would both cry. For the life we wanted, but might never get.

Yes Feyre, darling?

I was so grateful, so grateful she had forgiven me, we’d fought, we’d cried but we’d made up.

My water broke.

The pen in my hand snapped.

That’s not possible you’re no where near full term. Fuck no.

I know that.

We’re supposed to have more time, more time for me to save her, save us.

I ran out of the house and winnowed to her art studio without hesitation. She sat in front in front of an easel- a half-finished rendition of Thesan’s palace in front of her.

Sure enough the was wet staining the front of her leggings, she was crying.

“Rhys-” I ran over and pulled her to me, as tight as I could. I kissed the top of her head as she started sobbing, tears streaking down my own cheeks. I was going to loose her, seconds before I myself lost my life.

I reached out in my mind for Madja, praying the healer would be free.

My lord,

It’s happening, her water broke.

That’s… not good.

I’m taking her to back to the river house, meet me there.

Yes my lord.

“Feyre, darling we have to get to the river house, Madja will meet us there.” Feyre was still sobbing into my shoulder. I picked her up, bridal style, and winnowed to the front of the river house.

I kicked open the door, and Mor ran down the stairs, Elain close behind her.

“Rhys, what happened?” My cousin ran up to us, peering at Feyre.

Feyre screamed. Contraction.

Elain paled.

“Madja is on her way.”

“She can’t be going into labour now, you’re supposed to have months.”

“I know Morrigan.” I snapped, I set Feyre on the bed. “I think it was the stress from Nesta and the others being in the blood rite.”

Mor nodded, face pale, lips drawn. “I’ll go get some towels.”

Elain knelt down on Feyre’s other side, taking her hand.

“Feyre…”

Feyre opened her eyes and looked at her sister. “Elain.”

“It’ll be okay. I promise, we’ll find a way to save you.” Elain looked over at me. “Won’t we?”

“We will.”

My lord I’m outside the house.

“Madja’s here, I’ll go get her-”

“No! Stay Rhys, please.” Tears were shining in my mate’s eyes.

“I’ll go.” Elain stood up and exited the room.

“It’ll be okay, love.” I pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Don’t lie to me Rhys. We still haven’t found anything, Nesta is in the blood rite, Cassian and Az are on the continent, and we’re…” going to die.

She rested her hands on her stomach.

“Feyre, you should try shifting, it might be worth it, if there’s any chance it could save you.”

“Rhys-”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Madja walked through the door, bag under her arm. Elain close behind.

“If labour has already begun, the wings are already tearing her apart.”

I winced. And Feyre flopped back, turning into my chest.

My stomach dropped. No. That was our last option.

Feyre

I was going to die.

And Rhys was going to die with me.

Mor came back with some towels and placed the, on the bed beside me. “How are you doing?” Her voice was soft.

“I’m oka-.” I was interrupted by a contraction. I screamed.

Amren appeared in the doorway. “How is this happening?” Rhys must’ve told her about the labour.

“It’s probably the stress, Elain said your sister is in the blood rite.” I nodded at Madja. “Nasty tradition. Feyre I’m going to have to take the leggings off.” I nodded again, unable to form words.

“So… what do we do?” Mor’s voice was shaky from where she stood, hand on Rhys’ shoulder.

He looked lost, face drawn and eyes downcast. “I-” my mate’s voice broke. “I don’t know.”

“There has to be something.” Amren’s voice was uncharacteristically panicked.

The scent of blood filled the air.

Fuck.

Feyre. Rhys’s voice filled my mind.

Yes?

It’ll be okay, sweetheart.

No it won’t, Rhys, we’re both going to die. Nesta might already be dead, and who knows what’s happening to Cassian and Azriel.

Hours went by, I hardly felt as Madja poked and prodded me, tried everything to get Nyx to come out alive, and without killing me. The others spoke in quiet voices, trying not to disturb me as all my strength went into trying to heal my body. Contractions would take my body and Rhys would hold me as I screamed.

“What if she doesn’t make it…” Mor

“This is not fair…” Elain

“The babe is stuck…” Madja

“You Illyrians and your stupid anatomy…” Amren

“Open your eyes, Feyre.” Rhys.

He was stroking a thumb along my forehead. I looked up at him. His eyes were red.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” I reached a hand up to cup his face.

I screamed.

Rhys sat up suddenly.

“Azriel.” His voice came out choked.

The heads of the other four females turned to Rhys.

“He’s alive. So’s Eris, but he can’t winnow.” Mor looked disappointed at hearing that the Autumn Court prince was alive.

“What about Cassian?” Amren acted like she didn’t care most of the time, but deep down I knew she did.

“He’s been taken.” There was gasps around the room. “Briallyn.”

The human queen, turned crone by the cauldron.

“Az says she’s going after Nesta.”

“Where is Az?” Mor voice was panicky.

Rhys rattled off a location and Mor kissed my cheek before running out of the room.

“Do you think Nesta is alive?” Elain’s voice was quiet.

“Probably.” Amren turned to my sister.

“She must’ve used the crown on Cassian.” Rhys said, voice filled with worry for his brother.

“Well then why not take Azriel as well? That would’ve been the strategic decision, he knows more about how the court works than Cassian, he’d be less detectable too.” Amren contemplated

“Because Cassian means something to Nesta.” My voice was croaky and hoarse.

Everyone looked at me.

“Think about it, there are more ways to hurt someone than physically, you take someone they care about, whose life they wouldn’t dare risk. Their mate.”

“You knew.” Rhys’s tone was soft.

“I suspected, it would explain why Cassian put up with her for so long, why he kept pursuing her. You thought so too.”

He corner of his mouth turned up. “I did.”

There was a loud crash downstairs.

“Mor.” Amren said.

Two sets of feet ran up the stairs and the door was thrown open.

Azriel’s eyes widened as he took in the room. He walked over to the side of the bed and knelt down next to me.

“Feyre. I-”

I cut him off with a scream and he flinched.

“I’m so sorry.” He continued. He looked over me to Rhys. “We put Eris is one of the cells in the Hewn City until we can make sure he’s not still under the crown’s control.”

Rhys nodded. “Thank you.”

“What do we do about the rite?” He scanned the room.

“We can’t do anything. If we interfere they will kill us.” Mor said as she sat back down next to Amren.

“It’s a bullshit rule.” Azriel spat.

“One we can’t ignore, boy, so you’ll do best to keep quiet until we hear something from one of them.”

“I can’t believe they were taken.” Azriel stood up and ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck.”

He was concerned, he had been training them for months.

“You trained them well.”

Azriel glared at Amren, he had said the same thing to comfort Cassian when he was panicking earlier. He had been calmer then, his face was pale now and eyes holding worry.

“So we wait.”

I closed my eyes. The eventfulness of the last few minutes had tired me out. Rhys still sat next to me on the bed, laying at an uncomfortable angle so he could be close to me.

Rhys.

Yes?

I’m scared.

Me too.

I don’t want to die. We’ve come so far, defied death twice, it can’t end like this, it just can’t.

We’ll find a way, sweetheart, we always do. It’ll be okay.

Madja sighed.

Worry filled Rhys’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I still can’t get the baby to mo-” She was cut off by Rhys’s exclamation.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?” I grabbed his arm.

“The wards at the house of wind have been breached.”

“By what.” Mor stood up, looking like if Rhys said the wrong thing she would run over there to kill it.

Azriel’s shadows swarmed, some of them rushing out of the room.

“Two people, females.” He paused and looked at his brother. “Your Valkyries are back, Az.”

Azriel slumped back onto the couch.

“Wait, two?” Elain spoke up for the first time in ages.

Azriel’s shadows came back. “Emerie and Gwyn.” He relayed. “Rhys, they’ve become Carnythian.”

Rhysand

Three females went into the blood rite, two came out Carnythian. Carnythian. There are only four living Carnthians, and two of them were in that room.

“Not only did they survive the rite, they’re Carnythian?” Mor’s eyes widened.

“Yes.” Azriel looked like he wanted to winnow out and make sure the two were okay, but stayed out of loyalty to myself and Feyre.

I reached out in my mind and told Nuala and Ceridwen to go check on Emerie and Gwyn, make sure they weren’t injured, and that anything they needed they had.

I pulled Feyre into my chest and pushed her hair out of her face.

“If they’re alive then Nesta has to be right?” She asked.

“I don’t know.”

So we waited, for anything. Madja was running around and grabbing things from her bag, pressing on Feyre’s stomach to try and coax the baby to move, pressing her hands into my mate’s body, trying to save her.

It was then I felt it. That presence in my mind, Cassian.

“Mor, Az.” They both looked at me. “Go to the top of Ramiel. Cassian is there.”

Mor let out a sob and Azriel started muttering. They both rushed out of the room.

“Is Nesta there?” Elain asked me after a while, eyes full of hope.

“He didn’t seem to be overly distressed, so she should be.”

Feyre screamed. I glared at Madja. It was hard for me, seeing her in this much pain.

The door was flung open and Mor ran in, followed by my brothers and Nesta.

I had to keep reminding myself it wasn’t her fault she was taken into the rite, even if it did cause Feyre’s early labour.

Cassian’s face paled and Nesta’s eyes widened.

Madja didn’t look up as she said. “I’ve turned the babe, but he’s not descending. He’s wedged in the birth canal.”

Amren gasped.

“She’s losing too much blood, and I can feel the babe’s heart in distress.”

Fuck.

“What do we do?” Mor asked.

Cassian and Azriel came up behind me, placing their hands on my shoulders.

“There is nothing we can do, cutting the babe out of her will kill her.” Madja said.

“Cutting it out?” Nesta demanded, and I glared at her.

“An incision along her abdomen, even one carefully made, is an enormous risk. It’s never been successful. And even with Feyre’s healing abilities, the blood loss has weakened her-”

“Do it.” Feyre’s voice held so much pain.

“Feyre.” No. There had to be another way, I wouldn’t lose her.

“The babe likely won’t survive.” Madja’s voice was soft, but uncompromising. “It’s too small yet. We risk both of you.”

“All of you.” I felt Cassian’s eyes on me as he said it.

“Do it.” Even on her death bed, body being torn apart, I admired her for her tone. No fear, only pure determination in the voice of the High Lady. She looked up at me and I felt my heart break. “We have to.”

I nodded slowly, tears lining my eyes.

Nesta and Elain approached the other side of the bed, heads lowered as Elain started praying.

I was trembling, Cassian’s hand tightened on my shoulder as my power flowed into Feyre, trying with all that it could to heal her.

Madja got off the bed and returned with knives and tools, but I barely saw it looking down at my mate.

Beautiful. Strong. The most important thing in my life.

Doomed.

We both were.

“Go into her mind to take the pain away.” Madja said to me.

I blinked and cursed myself for not thinking of it sooner.

Elain had grabbed Feyre’s other hand.

“Feyre darling-”

“No good-byes.” Feyre’s voice was strained. “No good-byes Rhys.”

And I physically felt my heart shatter as her eyes closed.

There was no sound when my son came up, as Madja passed the unmoving boy to my crying cousin. Tears fell down my own face.

Madja swore.

And I began screaming.

I knew what was happening, that she was losing her grip on life as I lunged for my mate.

Feyre

I could feel death.

It hovered.

Around me, my mate and our son.

I could feel it over the yelling of the healer, the pleading of my sister, the crying of my friend as she held my lifeless baby, the screaming of my mate, the grunts of his brothers as they held him back.

I could feel it.

Death opened its arms to me, getting ready to take me as my breathing thinned.

And this wasn’t like last time.

Death seemed to whisper to me. There aren’t seven high lords here to save you this time, Cursebreaker.

There was a golden light.

But I ignored it as I slipped further into Death’s arms.

Rhysand

Cassian and Azriel were holding me back, fourteen combined siphons blazing with the force it took to hold me.

All I knew was I had to get to Feyre.

It was a primal urge now. Get to my mate. Get to her before death does.

These bastards.

There was a golden light.

Amren gasped.

Nesta.

She was wearing the mask, the crown sat atop her head, and in her arms was the harp.

She had all the items of the dread trove.

No one had done that and lived.

Nesta walked to toward the bed. Toward Feyre.

I surged for her. I was not letting her anywhere near Feyre.

Nesta held up a hand and my body went still.

Feyre’s chest rattled, and I knew that was her final breath.

I knew it as Nesta plucked the twenty-sixth string on the harp.

And Time stopped.

I was able to move again. I lunged against the hold my brothers had on me. Amren stepped next to us and hissed. “Listen.”

Nesta was whispering. “I give it all back.” Her shoulders heaved as she wept.

My head was shaking. And I could feel my power raising like a wave. I couldn’t tell if it was me or the reaction to my mate dying.

Amren grabbed the nape of my neck, her nails digging into my skin. “Look at the light.”

And there was light. Flowing from Nesta’s body into Feyre’s.

Nesta still held her sister as she kept repeating. “I give it back, I give it back, I give it back.”

I stopped fighting my brothers.

No one moved. Not Mor holding the too small bundle in her arms, not Elain, who had stepped back from the bed, not Cassian, Azriel or Amren standing with me.

The light flowed all over Feyre, down her arms and legs, over her pale, lifeless face.

A delicate tendril of light floated over to Mor. Toward where my son was wrapped up in her arms. It set the baby glowing.

Nesta was still whispering. “I give it back, I give it all back.”

The light kept filling them. It lit my cousin’s face and the shock was thrown in stark relief.

“I give it back.” The mask and crown tumbled from Nesta’s head and the light exploded. Blinding and warm, throughout the room.

It faded and dark ink was splashed on Nesta’s back. She made a bargain with the cauldron.

I lunged for Feyre, and this time I wasn’t held back.

I ran to my mate.

Feyre

My eyes opened.

Death was gone.

No longer hovering in the room.

Almost like that golden light had scared it away.

I blinked at Rhys, tracks of tears running down his face.

Then I turned to Nesta.

“I love you too.” I whispered, and smiled. Nesta sobbed and launched at me and hugged me.

A wail went up from the other side of the room.

Mor was weeping as she walked over to us. The baby in her arms wasn’t small, as I had seen in my glimpse before exhaustion had claimed me. No, this was a healthy baby boy. With thick dark hair and wings.

I sobbed and took Nyx from Mor.

I barely heard Madja as she said “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you developed an Illyrian’s anatomy.”

Rhys put his arm around me as we cried and laughed and took in our son.

He looks like you. I said into his mind.

How dare he.

I laughed again.

Madja approached us. “Let him feed.”

I bought the baby to my breast. Awed.

It hurts

But Rhys wasn’t looking at me.

Rhysand

I whirled to Nesta, who had slid off the bed and stood next to the mask.

I surveyed her.

My sister-in-law.

I fell to my knees, grabbing Nesta’s hand. “Thank you.” I wept, head bowed.

She had saved Feyre, and Nyx. I knew we would never be the best of friends, but for this, I would try.

Nesta dropped to the carpet in front of me. She lifted my face in her hands, before throwing her arms around me.

And I hugged her.

Feyre

“He’s asleep.” I said as I walked up to where Rhys sat on the couch

“Thank the Mother.” I sat in his lap and he pulled me into his chest. “I would’ve helped you.”

“Yes well, you’ve had a big day.”

It’d been a week since we’d almost died.

Rhys went to the windhaven with Cassian where the General had killed the males responsible for taking Nesta and her friends into the rite. Rhys had made it clear what happens if anyone who did not consent to being apart of the rite was forcefully taken and thrust into it ever again.

He’d also dealt with the last of the issues surrounding Eris and the Dread Trove.

I’d wanted to help, but he’d insisted that almost dying warranted a couple weeks of rest.

Plus we weren’t getting much sleep with Nyx’s crying and constant hunger.

The people of Velaris were rejoicing.

They had a prince. For the first time since Rhys’ accession almost 500 years ago they had a clear heir.

We’d been sent well-wishes and gifts from all across not just the court, but Prythian and beyond. Including a stuffed white wolf from Viviane and Kallias, a card with no more than 5 words from Keir, a basket full of little toys from Miryam and Drakon, a few of those fish I’d had at Adriata wrapped up and spelled not to go bad (for when you’re good tired to cook- read the card) from Tarquin and Cressida.

It made my heart warm to see all these people who cared and would one day get to meet our son, (except Keir, we were going to avoid that for as long as possible).

“I did say everything would be okay didn’t I?”

I laughed and smacked his arm.

But he did.

I had my mate and son. I’d somewhat healed my relationship with my sister.

Everything was okay.

Again, thank you for reading, the other parts are on my page, feedback, comments and reblogs appreciated.

[happilylovingchaos]

Hello, @lonestar-s5countdown.

Content warning: I trauma-dump for like 85% of this post. Sorry in advance.

(1) Which character death in 911 Lone Star hit you the hardest?

Okay, whoever’s behind the blog? First of all how dare you. (Both jokingly and devastatedly) Because This is what thinking on my personal tearjerkers and failures does to me👇🏼

3x08 is a visceral episode that always hits me in the jugular from start to end, followed by 3x09. The fact that Ronen method-acted his character’s physical agony from his drug addiction? I am horrified and awed at his dedication. Lisa was amazing with the little time she was given in the show’s 2017. And in the following ep, after TK’s scene at grief support, Rob’s monologue just… god, the melancholy when he tries to put himself in Gwyn’s situation, in the seconds before she was killed. And the surprise when Ginsberg shows him affection for the first and last time.

In my last year of high school, there was a video of the 1992 Olympics that my AP English class watched to boost our morale; it was an Josh Groban AMV that featured a track runner, Derek Redmond. He seemed to be pacing everyone behind him… until he started limping and trying to keep himself from tripping and falling on the field. The running had taken a toll on his ACL, and this injury allowed the rest of the racers to catch up. But his father, Jim, and his coach had rushed onto the track. They took each side of his sobbing self, helped him hobble through his lane… and then they let go, allowed him to limp across the finish line in last place.

It made me tear up then, but it took me years after I graduated to start working out what exactly I took away from the video. And I didn’t know what to think or even express it without sounding… ableist? Unsympathetic? Nihilistic? Some other synonym for “bitchy”, “mean-spirited”, “pathetic”, “pitiful”?

Then I remembered the AMV the first time I saw 3x08. Short version: TK was Derek Redmond and Gwyn was his dad, his Jim. I was projecting hard— an ACL injury and an addiction to opiates/ barbiturates/ substances don’t compare with each other, but one event often results in the other. And the portrayal (both in the show and also in reality) of leading an addict onto a redemptive path really isn’t as pretty as carrying an injured racer through most of their last lap. TK kicked and bitched and moaned from Queens to LAX, Gwyn refused to give an inch because doing so would enable and then kill him… and all I thought was “Why would she look for and help and care, beyond the simple fact that she is his mother? TK knows that he is loved, so what is he doing? How does he not think of her when he’s taking and withdrawing from drugs?”

I think it came from projecting some complicated feelings about my parents, and how I’d be able to cope with similar adversities without them. My dad would be pretty disappointed and angry in me if I’d fallen that low, but chances are he’d do what Gwyn did with less levity and more grousing. And… my mom is the first most hard-working person I know. She’d definitely take me to rehab, do what she could when my body tried to adjust without the addiction. But I wouldn’t— don’t think I could even try— looking at her. Because she would be prominent in my mind. If I looked, I would see both my shame and her own tired complicated version of it in her eyes, and it would kill me inside before withdrawal could. I was depending on my mom, using her, letting her help me and hurting her with weak defiance, because I knew she didn’t want me to suffer. And that additional fact would just make the shame all that more painful. I don’t know if that’s a sound interpretation of TK’s mindset, but… well, it all happened how it did. Gwyn let him go, he decided to proceed, I made my own negative interpretation of this scene and the Olympics AMV, and it was difficult to convey. There’s more to make peace with now, but for the sake of time I’ll stop right there.

(2) What is your favorite grief-related moment in the show?

My top 4:

Owen’s monologue and apology to Ginsberg (was it meant to be ambiguous as to whether Gwyn’s spirit remained in her macaw, waiting for Owen to make amends with her? Probably, probably not). And then he and Catherine find his feathered corpse. That was such an underrated moment killer.

The montage of everyone grieving for Tim. Though I wish he got more screen time to show how he got to bond w/ the 126, it seemed clear to me that Tim got almost-not-quite close to being accepted into the found family.

Related to the first point, Owen seeing Gwyn in 3x18 as he was recovering from the building collapse. TK got to grieve his mom more than once in the season, but I wasn’t sure how much Owen felt too until he brought up her accident to her spirit. She didn’t blame him, encouraged him to keep going forward...

Tommy’s rendition of “Being Alive” at Tarlos’ wedding. It celebrated living life, but I think I got why it was also considered a lowkey funeral. Especially Robert’s bit— that contextual dissonance and parallel to the song as Owen saves the brother he hasn’t known for long from an approaching “long goodbye”? On both of my rewatches, I was sobbing. And the second time hurt even more this year with the added experience of watching my grandmother’s health sharply decline and hearing her decide to die while she was still lucid and upright. She’d battled reproductive cancer four times throughout her life and didn’t believe she could endure a fifth just to stay with her family; in her words, living out one’s life in chronic pain and exhaustion wouldn’t be living. So… Robert’s death paralleled my grandma’s death— they lived full lives, and they got to die on their terms with support and love from their families (at least where TK was not made aware [yet] about his uncle’s death, my aunt and uncle were present when my grandma finally died before we stood vigil).

(3) Do you think there will be a character death in season 5? If so, any guesses about who it might be?

I again hope beyond hope: Do Not Kill Grace Ryder. Or Andrea Reyes.

(4) Which living character's death would destroy you the most?

Grace, especially if it’s used to explain/ excuse Sierra’s absence.

Owen, because he’s been such a catalyst for most of the show’s developments. And some psychopathic part of me is curious about how TK would feel about losing both of his parents— how much of his sobriety hinged on having both his mom and dad’s love in his life? How much of his physical health would be affected along with his emotional health? Could he utilize this pain in his life and career, or would the extra loss be too much for him? (I’m sorry, TK. 😞)

(5) Which character's childhood trauma do you think was most significant in shaping them?

I think Mateo’s childhood trauma is the most overt-ish. If his WandaVision-inspired dream is anything to go by, losing Marvin for his misguided arson changed him from an adrift and immature prankster to someone more withdrawn and hyper-focused, to a relatively healthy balance between both.

Sorry to cut off the post this abruptly… it’s getting late where I’m at. For @littlemissmarianna @trkstrnd @alrightbuckaroo @bisasterbuckley, this tag game’s open to y’all at this link! https://www.tumblr.com/lonestar-s5countdown/759338493467099136/this-week-we-have-some-grief-themed-questions-for

[slayerkitty]

Did anyone else start ugly sobbing when Gwyn showed up?

I was already crying. I'm pretty sure I wailed at that point

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Totally Spies (Valkyries) Chapter 1

A/N: This is something me and my friend @sunshinebingo came up with on Discord. Someone made a comment on one of her fanfics saying ‘The Valkyries are like Totally Spies’ so I decided to watch it and it was AWESOME! Idk who made the comment but she does so she’ll contact her. This is the first chapter of the fanfic. In the mean time, she’ll post the 2nd one soon and I’ll link it to you guys. Okay, let’s start the show.

Btw, here’s Chapter 2

Nesta Archeron is a 13-year-old girl who is now starting her first journey in middle school. She had messy blond hair that was tied in a braided circle around her head. She wore a white button-down shirt with jean shorts and black short, heeled boots. After her mother’s recent passing, her father sent her away to live in California with an extended family. She’s never met them before and is nervous about them. She hopes that they’re a nice family.

Looking up from her phone, Nesta looks at the cab driver. “Are we almost there?” she asked him as the cab driver looked at his GPS. “Yeah, just a few miles. Beverly Hills, right?” Nesta shivered. Beverly Hills. She always wanted to go there with her mother and father. Her mother even told her that she would get to visit on her 13th birthday. However, she had to visit a lot earlier than before. Coughing down a sob, Nesta held her head up high and nodded her head. “Yep. That’s where I’m going.” she replied to him as the cab driver chuckled. “You lucky kid. I used to live there when I was a little younger than you,” As the cab driver continued to rant about his backstory, Nesta stared at the window in the car. She held on to a piece of jewelry given to her by her mother before she died. It was a bracelet with a Pegasus on it. If you rub it before you wake up in the morning, it’ll bring you good luck. She rubbed it. She didn’t feel so lucky.

Down the street from where the taxi turned, another girl, about the same age as Nesta was walking toward the library with 3 books in her hands. She had bright red hair with a white ribbon tied behind the back of her neck. She wore a black tee with a dark purple skirt that went down to her knees. Her shoes were Burgandi red and her plaid green and red socks rose all the way to her calves. She was also wearing a Pegasus necklace given to her by her late sister. She received looks from older girls and little kids. A weird fashion chose right? Well, if only they knew those were the only clothes she could wear.

The girl walked into the library and made her way to the front desk. “Hello?” she called out as the librarian narrowed her eyes to her. Remembering to be quiet, the girl smiled nervously and mumbled ‘sorry.’ The girl placed the books on the counter. “I’m just returning these,” she whispered as the librarian took her books. Because the librarian was mute, she used sign language to communicate. Luckily, the girl was fluent in it. ‘Must you always do everyone's homework, Gwyn?’ The librarian signed to her. Gwyn sighed. Because of how she looked, most of the kids at her school bullied her for it. And to make matters worse, some of them would even pressure her to do their homework for them. Gwyn was up all night and finished 10 times the homework she was given in class. Why did they choose her, she’ll never know. She never had the courage to fight for herself, so why should she even ask?

Gwyn only shook her head. “It’s not that back Clotho. Really.” The librarian, Clotho, didn’t believe that for one second. ‘You must learn to stand up for yourself. Or at least learn some self-defense.’ Clotho signed. Gwyn shook her head again. “No Clotho. I can’t do violence. I’m not like the other athletic kids.” she replied. Clotho sighed. ‘At least tell someone about it.’

“I told you.”

‘Someone other than me. I’m worried about you.’ Clotho’s expression turned from determined to sadness. She was very worried about Gwyn. Gwyn was like a daughter to her. Gwyn, looking down in embarrassment, looked at the watch on her wrist. “Sorry, Clotho. I have school tomorrow.” Gwyn said turning away and walking toward the door.

Once she’d left, Clotho sighed and pulled out a phone with a ‘W’ attached to it. She turned it on, and on the screen was a young man, in his early 20s. “Clotho. Did she arrive yet?” The man asked as Clotho nodded. ‘She just left.’ she signed to him as the man nodded in understanding. “Good.”

Just around the corner from the library was a third 13-year-old girl. She had dark brown hair that was in a braid. It trailed down all the way to her waistline. She wore a blue workout shirt with black workout shorts. She also wore black and dark blue tennis shoes with an ankle bracelet. It had a Pegasus attached to it.

The girl walked into the gym. Inside, it had all the equipment you’d expect. Workout bikes, treadmills, weights, yoga balls, all of it. She turned away from the curious eyes on her and walked to the front desk. “Excuse me,” she called out as the man at the counter looked up from his phone. “What do you want?” he asked. The girl straightened up. “Can you take me to see Unburn Keen?”

“What? Is he your father or something?”

“Yes, he is.” The girl didn’t hesitate to reply. The man at the counter suddenly changed his tone. Instead of boredom, it was now anger. “You’re Emerie Keen?” he said as Emerie nodded in confirmation. The man groaned. “I swear that man will be the death of us all.” he said as he brought out a walkie talkie he had strapped to his waist and called out for Emerie’s father.

Unburn came out from the back of the gym, carrying a bottle in his hand. And it wasn’t a water bottle. Emerie sighed in frustration. “I knew it.” she groaned as the man from the counter rolled his eyes. “Is he always like this?” he asked of her as Unburn tried to walk towards his daughter but tripped over his own feet. Emerie sighed. “Yep.”

“The people in the gym call him Unburn the noonday drunk.” the man replied as Unburn stood up from the floor and flexed out his knuckles in his hands. “Morning my little fire lily? Did you sleep well?” he asked her thinking he just woken up from bed. Emerie rolled her eyes. “It’s noon, dad. School’s over.” Emerie replied as she grabbed her father’s hand to help him stay up. “Thank you for your help. Sorry, this had to happen again.”

“No worries kid. Just make sure you keep your father away from those bottles.” the man advice. Emerie had done that. Her father just happened to be able to buy new ones.

After the two of them had left the gym, the man from the counter received a call from the same man that called Clotho. He answered it. “What’s up Rhysand?” he asked as Rhysand replied, “Did she get the package?” he asked as the man nodded. “Yep. They just walked out the door. They’re heading to the entry point.”

“Good work Az. Keep me posted.”

Nesta yawned out of boredom, not taking her eyes off the window. She checked her phone and read the time. 3:45pm. All the kids are out of school today. She might meet a few of them. The taxi suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. Nesta viewed the driver from the corner of her eye. “Why’d you stop?” she asked as the cab driver turned off his car. “This is your stop.”

Nesta sat up straight. She looked around at where the taxi had stopped. They stopped right in between a cinema and a gym. Just near an alley way. Furious, Nesta turned back to the driver. “This isn’t where I live.”

“You live in Beverly Hills, right?”

“Well, yeah but-”

“So, this is your stop. Now, pay up kid. I charge you for every second you’re in here.” The driver told her as Nesta groaned. Shoving her hand in her pocket, she pulled out 2 20-dollar bills and a 5. “Here!” She threw them on the dashboard and stormed out of the taxi. Once she was out, the taxi drove off so fast that it splashed some water on her jeans. The wheels must’ve been parked on the water for that to happen. Now fuming with hatred, Nesta kicked the water with her black boots. “Asshole!” she yelled, not caring if anyone called her out for her dirty mouth.

“Um, excuse me?” Nesta turned sharply to the direction of the voice. It belonged to a red haired girl with a white ribbon tied in the back. The girl had sad eyes on her face, and she looked like she had been through a lot. Maybe a lot more than Nesta had. Whether Nesta was having a difficult day or not, this girl didn’t deserve to take the fall for it. Whoever she was.

Taking a deep breath, Nesta relaxed and replied, “Yes?” The girl cleared her throat and spoke. “I just wanted to know if you would like some new jeans.” Nesta looked down. Her jeans were covered with water. No wonder some of the people were laughing at her. Blushing in embarrassment, Nesta groaned. The girl gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you react that way. I have some shorts you could wear. I don’t know if they’re your size though.” The girl said as she took her backpack off her back and zipped it open. She pulled out a pair of tight brown shorts. Not really Nesta’s style, but it’ll have to do for now.

Nesta walked over to the girl. “Thank you. I’m Nesta.” Nesta said to her as the girl blushed at how close she was to her. “I’m Gwyneth. But everyone calls me Gwyn.” The girl named Gwyn replied. Gwyn gave Nesta the shorts for her to wear. “I’m gonna change in the alley,” Nesta said, going into the alley and averting from interesting eyes. Once she came back, the jeans were replaced with shorts. The shorts fit perfectly around her waist. And the color went well with her white button-down shirt. When she looked in the window of a shop, she smiled at her reflection. “I look good.” Nesta said as Gwyn smiled, happy that she got one style right. “I’m so glad I was able to help.”

“When do you want it back?”

“Oh no, you can keep it if you want,” Gwyn replied as Nesta looked at her with surprise. “Are you sure?” Gwyn nodded in agreement. “Consider it a gift from a new friend,” Gwyn said as Nesta chuckled. “Well, I have to get going. I just moved to Beverly Hills and I’m trying to find my way to Velaris Boulevard.”

“Velaris Boulevard? I live there. You wanna walk with me?” Gwyn spoke, her voice going up an octave. Nesta thought about it. She had no idea where she was, and her taxi driver just ditched her. She shrugged her shoulders. “Why not. My cab driver was an ass anyway.” Nesta replied as Gwyn squealed with excitement. “Awesome. So, why’d you decided to move to California?” Gwyn asked her, starting up a conversation.

Nesta would’ve replied if it weren’t for the commotion in front of them. It sounded like an old man whining. “Come on dad! Stand up!” Gwyn and Nesta turned to see a young girl with a brown braid. She was struggling to grab what seemed to be her father off the ground. Her father was on the ground hiccupping. The girls could smell the alcohol from where they were. “But this ground is so soft.” The father said as he looked like he appeared to be on a field of clouds.

Nesta looked at Gwyn who was looking at the girl. “I know her. That’s Emerie. She’s one of the greatest athletes at school.” Gwyn explained as Nesta looked at the duo ahead of them. “Is she always carrying her drunk father through Beverly Hills?” she asked kindly. Gwyn sadly nodded her head. “Yes apparently. Her father was always a drunk. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from other kids.” Nesta noticed how Emerie struggled to get her father to think straight. At least for a moment.

“We should probably help her,” Nesta said to Gwyn as Gwyn looked at her like she was crazy. “I wanna help her too, but every time I ask her, she doesn’t accept it,” Gwyn told her as they now noticed how Emerie’s father was dragging too much attention to pedestrians. “Well, then I’ll ask her.” Nesta said walking over to Emerie before Gwyn could drag her away.

“Hello there!” Nesta called out as Emerie looked up in her direction while clinging onto her father’s hand. Emerie glared at her. “Listen, I don’t care who you are. I don’t need your help.” Nesta was taken-aback by her tone. Wow, grouchy much? Nesta didn’t let it get to her though. “You sure? You’re kinda forming a crowd here.” Nesta said. A group of people were starting to form a crowd. Some of them were even taking pictures. Groaning, Emerie facepalmed. “Not again.” she muttered.

Nesta was starting to feel bad for her. After her mother passed, he started drinking his days away too. It became so bad that her aunt Jennifer had to take Nesta away from him to improve. Nesta missed her father, but she knew that this was for the best. She hoped that one day, he will get better and soon he could visit Beverly Hills with her like she and her mother always promised.

Nesta looked at her with pity. “Listen, Emerie was it, you’re not the only one with a dead-beat father,” she said as Emerie for the first time, looked at her with something other than offense. Emerie was used to doing things on her own. Ever since her father left his recent gang activity, he’d been nothing but dependent on his daughter. Having to clean the house, steal food for them, paying bills with whatever money they had left. She may look like a star on the outside, but on the inside, she and her father were dead broke.

Before any of this had ever happened, her father was a kind and honorable man. He taught her how to do her homework, how to make friends, how to treat people how they wanted to be treated, but most importantly, how to defend herself. Because she grew up on the wrong side of town, she had to learn how to fight, how to steal, and how to lie. It wasn’t easy, but she got it done. And the last thing she needed was someone who she couldn’t trust.

Hesitant, Emerie looked down at her father and then back to Nesta. “What’s your name?” she asked as Nesta bent down to her level. “My name’s Nesta.”

“Well Nesta, you can start by helping me with his with his other arm.” Nesta grabbed Emerie’s father’s left arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’ve never seen you around before. How do you know who I am?” Emerie asked as Nesta looked towards Gwyn who hadn’t moved from her spot. Noticing that the girls were looking at her, she waved shyly and blushed. “Hiya Emerie. Remember me? From school?” Gwyn asked as Emerie squinted her eyes. “You’re Gwyneth, right?”

“Gwyn’s just fine.” Gwyn replied walking over to the girls. “Sorry I didn’t help sooner. I thought you wouldn’t accept it.”

“I would’ve but...I decided to change it up a bit.” Emerie smiled a bit at the comment she made. “So, you live in Windhaven right, Em?” Gwyn asked as Emerie nodded. “Yeah, it’s just outside of Velaris.” she replied as Nesta and Gwyn looked at her in shock. Emerie looked at them with confusion. “...what?”

“That’s where I’ll be living.” Nesta said.

“And that’s where I live too.” Gwyn agreed. Emerie giggled. “What a coincidence!”

“We’ll help you get your dad back home and if we have time, maybe we could...hang out?” Gwyn asked blushingly. Gwyn never really hung out with anyone she knew. It was always just her and her twin sister Catrin. Well, it was anyway.

Emerie smiled. “Sure. Never had a group of friends before. What about you Nesta?” Emerie asked as Nesta giggled. “We’ve only met each other for 2 minutes and we already wanna hang out. Yeah, I’m in.” she said as Gwyn cheered while Emerie’s father said something about, ‘Keep the noise down, Emmy!’

Emerie looked towards the street. “I’ll see if I can find a taxi,” she said as Nesta blocked her view. “Not a taxi. Trust me, it’s not worth it.” Nesta said as Gwyn brought out her phone. “I have some money. Let’s call an Uber.” Gwyn suggested as the girls nodded in agreement.

As the girls chatted about their daily lives, they failed to notice the cameras, the tracking devices that linked to each of their pegasi.

UPDATE: The one who made the comment was @aelinchocolatelover​ Everyone be a dear and go congratulate her for giving me and Sunshine the idea okay?

[lunainfortuna]

Sorry, but the funniest shit is when ~some~ people say Azriel acts as a mate towards Elain. Call them dumb.

And you know why?

This is Lucien soon after he met Elain still as a human:

Elain was shaking, sobbing, as she was hauled forward.

Toward the Cauldron. [...] Lucien, beside Tamlin, again put a hand on his sword. “Stop this.” [...] Lucien staggered a step forward as Elain was gripped between two guards and hoisted up. She began kicking then, weeping while her feet slammed into the sides of the Cauldron as if she’d push off it, as if she’d knock it down— “That is enough.” Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron.

Meanwhile, Azriel who had known her for a little while:

And Mor backed away. Step by step. “What a prize,” the king said, that black gaze devouring her. Azriel’s head lifted from where he was sprawled in his own blood, eyes full of rage and pain as he snarled at the king, “Don’t you touch her.”

I mean, lmaooooo. He didn't give a single fuuuuck about Elain. His supposed mate. I swear 😂😂😂😂😂😂

But there's more! In ACOWAR, he showed once again his mate instincts:

But Mor replied smoothly, [...] One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he’d blasted through Eris’s shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them.

And ps: Eris had just!!!! talked about Elain. Well...... Guess who didn't give a fuck again? Great mate we see here, guys.

From the first time Azriel met Elain, he treated her as Feyre's sister; he treated her with respect and kindness as he would do to anyone in need. Their interactions were superficial. They have never ever acted as mates towards each other; not even once! When he saved her near the end of the third book, he was freaking hurt and she didn't blink an eye. Would mates act like that? Er. (lets remember that Nesta was all about Cassian's safety). And in the end, after truth-teller, they didn't share any scenes together. She didn't ask about him nor did he ask abt her.

But Elain and Lucien?

“I’m fine,” Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, “Are you—”

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.”

A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips.

Azriel only started "caring" for Elain and being overprotective when he did the math about the bond between Feysand and Nessian. Only then. And we can notice this regarding his and Lucien's interactions. Before that, he respected Lucien. :) It's pretty clear by now, thinking about Mor and then, Elain, that Azriel changes the way he acts when he decides someone should be his mate/lover. It's not something real and pure.

Good thing that,

In comparison, Azriel slaughtered every soldier in Sangravah when he found Gwyn for the very first time. Every single one. In comparison, it was only when her name came up regarding the Blood Rite that he showed any reaction. In comparison, he wouldn't go as far as call her a friend, but buried the image of her shining eyes deep inside his chest. In comparison, his shadows sing to her. And that's enough.

[separatist-apologist]

Because I’m in Love with your takes on these: acotar characters from most to least devastated after a breakup (coping mechanism commentary appreciated but not required)

this is MOST to LEAST. MOST TO LEAST.

16. Tamlin- Functioning but just barely. Absolutely cuts bangs into his hair. New me, he sobs into the mirror. Drops all his friends to grieve, never really gets over it.

16. Elain- CATATONIC. Red album on BLAST for MONTHS. Is it coping if you just stop living your life entirely? Sleeps in old hoodie, devastated when the smell is gone.

15. Rhysand- Oh yeah. DRUNK FOR WEEKS. "I just knew she was the one," he hiccups to a stranger at the bar. Watching cheesy rom-coms in bed, alternating between whiskey and ice cream. Does not shower for a solid two weeks, forces Azriel and Cassian to have an intervention.

14. Gwyn- can't go five minutes without crying. Vanishes one day, resurfaces in Europe without a word. Girl you couldn't CALL? Just needed someone to worry about her a little. Is very apologetic in the aftermath.

13. Jurian- Tries to win them back, comes off like a major stalker. Has schedule memorized, will not let it go. Just wants to talk, obsessed with what went wrong.

12. Azriel- SILENT AND IN PAIN. Dude are you still thinking about her? NO but his phone background is still a picture of ex. Gets drunk, shows up at their house. Doesn't ring doorbell but sends a text. "Miss you". Doesn't cry, feels like no one will ever love them, this break up validated those feelings.

11. Tarquin- Trying to be friends in the aftermath. Falls into messy "fucking my ex but it means nothing" thinking it will change their mind. Has to go through heartbreak TWICE when they realize they won't get them back this way. Does have a hot girl summer glow-up though.

10. Emerie- Throws herself into work. Swears they don't care, spotify playlists are very suspicious. Invites you to bar but oh no its karaoke and double oh no, Emerie has queued up Kelly Clarkson's version of Happier Than Ever

9. Mor- D R U N K. Can party her way out of her feelings like its 2012. Too many one-night stands trying to forget they have feelings at all. Is not helping anything, does not stop.

8. Lucien- Fucking like he doesn't have feelings. Swears he'll never love again. Honestly, low key about the whole thing but VERY dramatic in his mind. Trying to project an aura of not caring, but very skittish about another relationship. Has to be psp psp psp'ed into the next one like a feral cat.

7. Vassa- Honestly, knows relationship was toxic but is still sad about it. Grieving through loud music and being, generally, a bitch. Apologetic when people back off. Just doesn't want to be alone. Hosts a lot of powerpoint nights to help her forget, develops a new hobby, and generally comes out of break-up a better person

6. Cassian- Sad for like, a week? Hitting the gym, working on his fitness. Gains are good, remembers he's hot...all is forgiven. Does have sex with one random against the brick of the bar on night to chase away his loneliness but generally not pining

5. Nesta- Also drinking and dancing but also cannot remember what that persons name was. Starting to think the breakup was just an excuse to party. Find out later she did the breaking up, just didn't bother to mention it.

4. Helion- One who got away means no one else can ever hurt him. That ex lingers and this new break up is easily shrugged off. Break up? Baby this was just a fling. Says it with a smile. No worries, no hard feelings. Already has someone new before break up even finished.

3. Feyre- New boyfriend in five minutes. Snaps her fingers, someone is already crawling at her feet. Can list everything he did wrong without tears in her eyes. Posts the most insane selfie, ex begs for her back. Feyre laughs with her friends later that night. Warned you she'd fuck your best friend, makes good on that threat. Ex emotionally scarred for years.

2. Eris- best way to get over someone is get under someone. Did you ever mean anything to him? Doesn't seem like it, he's already fucking that ex he told you not to worry about.

1. Amren- We were DATING? Genuinely had no idea.

[lady-riel]

“Sworn His Shadows Sang” Chapter 9 - Gwynriel fic

Chapter 9 summary: Gwyn likes when Az kisses her forehead. Warnings in this chapter for mentions of past SA.

Read on A03

Previous chapters linked here

Original summary: One evening Azriel asks Gwyn to eat dinner with him. Kisses, hurt/comfort, smut, bathtub fun, and more ensues. Also Gwyn has more ties to the Autumn Court than she realizes.

Warnings for mentions of past SA, flashbacks, NSFW smut.

~~~~~~~+++++++~~~~~~++++++++~~~~~~~+++++++~~~~~~~

Chapter 9

Gwyn showed up at his door a lot of nights. Her nightmares were unending. Azriel had plenty of his own and still wished he could shoulder hers too. But all he could do was hold her tightly and drop soft kisses over her smooth brow, making her lean into his touch and sigh.

“You like when I do that, don’t you?” Azriel murmured into her forehead one night.

Gwyn blushed, burying her head deeper into his chest. “Yes,” she whispered with a shy smile. 

He kissed her forehead again. The adorable way she nuzzled back against him every time made Azriel’s own smile grow. 

He angled his head back an inch to see her face. And to tease her, grinning. “Tell me why you like it and I’ll keep doing it.”

But suddenly she froze in his arms, pulling away, teal eyes wide and panicked.

Azriel inhaled sharply, grin sliding away, his face mirroring hers. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

“You mean if I don’t—if I don’t tell you, you—you won’t do it anymore?” Gwyn’s voice was heartbreakingly strangled. 

Azriel didn’t think he’d ever moved faster in his life than when he closed the four inches between their heads. He pressed kisses over her brow, whispering, “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that. I swear it. I was just playing. Of course I’ll keep doing it if you like it.”

She nodded against him, and he could feel the tears running down her face. He felt like the biggest asshole to ever walk the earth. How could he try to bargain with something that she clearly liked? Hadn’t she had enough taken away from her?

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn love. I never imagined…” He trailed off before starting again, “You don’t ever have to tell me anything unless you want to. Unless you’re ready to.”

She was quiet. Azriel didn’t push her. He just kept kissing her, holding her close. 

After a few moments of silence, Gwyn startled him when she started talking in a low voice. “I’m haunted by certain details. Every minute of every hour of every day. The sound of their belt buckles. The feel of their hands pinning me to the table. The ripping sound of my clothes.” Azriel’s arms tightened around her. “You kissing me like that helps…push it back. Keeps it at bay, even for a moment.”

Azriel opened his mouth, about to speak when she went on. “But even more than that, when you kiss me like that,” Gwyn said, swallowing, “I feel—I feel—” Her voice shook. “Like for a second I’m—I’m—” And then broke. “—like I’m finally clean.”

Azriel inhaled sharply, tilting her head back to look her in the eye, and said fiercely, “You are clean. You’re perfect.”

Gwyn shook her head violently, tears pouring down her face again, sobbing, “I’m ruined and filthy and broken and—”

“Shhh,” he cut her off, “You are none of those things. You are none of those things, Gwyn. I know what all those things look like and you are none of them. You’ve been hurt, hurt terribly, hurt unspeakably, and you’re still healing. But you are not ruined. You came out of the library. You learned to defend yourself. You cut the ribbon. You won the Blood Rite. You’re a Valkyrie and a Carynthian, and I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come. Just because you still have more healing to do doesn’t make you ruined. Doesn’t make you unclean. Doesn’t make you broken. The males who did that to you—they’re the filthy ones. They’re the ruined ones. Don’t take that on yourself.”

He could almost hear the gears in her head turning. After a moment she whispered, “You’re proud of me?”

Azriel’s face broke into a wide smile. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I’m proud of everything you’ve accomplished. I’m proud to be your teacher. I’m proud to be your—” He broke off, sheepish. “I guess we haven’t exactly labeled it yet, have we?” 

Gwyn finally gave him a small smile and shrugged.

Azriel went on, “And I’m proud of you for telling me all that. I know how hard that was.”

Her eyes shone, and she leaned in, nudging her forehead against his mouth, and Azriel knew exactly what she was looking for, obeying eagerly. Gwyn sighed contentedly against him. “I’m glad I told you. I’m glad you know. Somehow I feel better.”

Azriel didn’t stop kissing her, murmuring, “Good.”

He thought of all the things he still had yet to tell her; the things he hadn’t been able to bring himself to speak of with her. The darkness of his little cell. His hands lit on fire. Centuries of killing and torturing that blackened his soul. 

I know what all those things look like.

He closed his eyes, holding her closer in the night.

[hlizr50]

Gwynriel Week - Day 1

Favorite Moment Together (let's be honest, there are too many)

"I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."

"A comfort to every growing child."

In honor of meeting in the training ring, here's a little ficlet:

Reunion

Read on AO3

Azriel was surprised to find her in the training ring.

The Blood Rite had only ended two days ago. Training was postponed, both for recuperation and preparation for Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. And yet there the priestess was, heavy breaths sending clouds of steam into the frigid night air. His shadows wriggled in response to the sight, and he was able to breathe for what felt like the first time since that day they realized the three female trainees had been dropped into the brutal war game.

She was here. She was whole. She was unharmed.

He had glimpsed her that afternoon. He knew that she had survived – had won the damn thing. But with the madness of his High Lord and High Lady’s near death, the birth of their child, everything… he hadn’t gotten the chance to settle. But seeing her in the training ring, like so many evenings before she was stolen away, filled him with such a sense of pride and bone-rattling relief.

He stepped out of the shadowed stairwell, the darkness trailing him like a cape. He would have expected a scathing remark by now about him observing without greeting, but Gwyn simply continued beating the padded post senseless.

“Even Cassian said you could take time off, priestess,” he mused. “I would take advantage. It’s not a privilege often given.” The Spymaster took her in as she turned to face him, chest rising and falling from exertion. Her cheeks were pink, freckles darkened over the flush, and sweat sparkled on her brow. She gave a smile – he could always depend on her to do that – but bruised circles under her eyes betrayed her.

“Can’t sleep?”

Gwyn rolled her neck between her shoulders and flexed her fingers. “Surprising as it may sound, Shadowsinger, being kidnapped and dropped into the most brutal warrior initiation in Prythian can be quite nightmare-inducing.”

Azriel regarded her, tilting his head. Of course. He was a fool not to realize it, mind too preoccupied with knowing that she was safe, and knowing that she had conquered.

He hadn’t shared with anyone how terrifying that week had been for him. Cassian probably suspected, but Azriel made a living and a lifestyle of keeping his expressions schooled and his emotions carefully locked behind several different doors. Knowing there was nothing he could do hadn’t made the fear easier to bear, but it had made the imperative focus on finding Briallyn in that time easier to deal with. His mind had often drifted, though. Far more than he was comfortable admitting. The Blood Rite was appropriately named. It was less an initiation and more like a war. It was brutal and bloody, and knowing the caliber of warriors that Gwyn would have to face made his insides twist.

But knowing the Illyrian opinion of females, and knowing what could happen to her if even one entitled brute got ahold of her and had a taste for flesh…

The blood had frozen in his veins as soon as it was confirmed that she was gone.

The world had not been kind to Gwyn. Their first meeting had not been under pleasant circumstances. In his mind he could see her on that table, trembling and sobbing, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. He had sworn to himself that if anyone touched her during the Rite he would hunt them down afterwards and show them exactly what the Spymaster and his dark blade were capable of. But in front of that vengeful bloodthirstiness was the stark realization that she may not even survive.

There would have been no more meetings like this, time together that he had begun to crave.

“And what of you, Shadowsinger?” She flashed that teasing grin. “If you say you’re in search of another dagger I might start thinking you’re just making excuses to see me.”

Something inside Azriel snapped. There were no thoughts, no words. He strode the few steps between them and pulled the copper-haired priestess against him, snaking an arm around her back while his other hand pressed her head gently against his shoulder.

“Surprising as it may sound, Berdara,” he breathed, his lips brushing against those soft chestnut-red strands, “sitting and waiting for a week, not knowing if someone you care about will survive the most brutal warrior initiation in all of Prythian – and being powerless to do anything about it – can be quite nightmare-inducing.” He breathed her in, the scent of her and the feeling of her body against him the final confirmation that she was alive and breathing and here. Gwyn breathed in against him, as well, winding her lithe arms around his lower back.

“Az…” she whispered.

“I nearly went mad, Gwyn. When I thought about never finding you out here again…” That was exactly what had gone through his mind. Without his realizing, she had become quite an important fixture in his day-to-day life, and when he had thought about not experiencing her competitiveness, or seeing her triumphant grin when she perfected a new skill, or hearing her call him ‘Shadowsinger’ as scathingly as she could manage – it had shredded him. When her arms tightened around him he felt his heart might burst with warmth.

“It sounds as if you didn’t have confidence in my skills, Shadowsinger,” she snickered against his chest. His shoulders shook with a laugh.

“Never. I know you were trained by the best.”

The priestess snorted and pushed away from him, fixing him with a skeptical look and raised eyebrow. His scarred hands came to rest on her hips. “It must be tiring lugging that enormous ego everywhere.”

“I’m a strong and powerful male. It’s nothing.” He flashed a crooked grin. “I appreciate your concern, though, priestess. Or shall I call you Carynthian?”

“It has a ring to it.” Gwyn gave a nose-crinkling smile. When Azriel looked into her eyes they were soft, a thin sheen of wetness reflecting the glittering stars. He tentatively raised a hand and tucked a stray copper strand behind her ear before tracing those callused fingers over the freckles splattered haphazardly over her cheek.

“I am enormously proud of you, Gwyn. And impressed. And relieved beyond words that you’re home safe,” the Illyrian admitted, not at all ashamed of the honesty.

“There was a moment,” she began, reaching up with her fingers to caress the hand at her face, “when I was hit with that arrow. We were so close to the end, and I hadn’t allowed myself to think until that moment that I might not survive. So many things flashed through my mind in a rush. I… I saw your eyes, and your smile, and heard you laugh. I remember wishing I’d had more time. You’ve become… quite important to me, Shadowsinger.”

Her words were a salve to a heart he once thought broken beyond repair, a tonic to an aching soul. He smiled wider than he could ever remember, grateful that they had been given this chance. The shadows seemed to agree, twirling around their arms and into her hair. Gwyn giggled, a melody made of hope and starlight.

“Sorry about them,” Azriel grimaced, lowering his hand to find his way to her hand and catching a few of her graceful fingers between the mottled skin of his own. “They’re drawn to you.”

“Who can blame them, really?” the priestess – the Carynthian – tittered with a sly grin.

The shadowsinger chuckled. “I certainly can’t.” Pink bloomed over Gwyn’s cheeks – spring roses under freckle constellations – and his grin grew smug. Oh, yes. He liked how it felt to be the cause of that.

Keeping their fingers entwined he pulled at her again, wrapping his other arm around the middle of her back before pressing his lips into her hair. And she didn’t flinch or freeze, which was a consideration he should have had perhaps before he chose to do so. Her fingers fidgeted with his and her shoulders lifted before a contented sigh brought them impossibly tighter together.

“I look forward to our evening training sessions continuing far into the future, Carynthian.” Voice deep and hushed, Azriel leaned his cheek on the soft pillow of silken copper. He wasn’t used to being so forward, and he still found it intimidating to outright speak his heart. He was a man of action, and he could only hope that those helped his cause.

“Maybe a nice dinner or two, as well, Shadowsinger.” He smiled, wide and bright and so unlike the spymaster most knew.

It seemed they heard each other loud and clear.

@gwynrielweek

[icedflames]

Hello beautiful, can you list all the reasons why Elriel is not toxic and why it won’t be a toxic relationship. I’m tired of hearing people say that Elriel is toxic.

Alright, hang on... This is a long one. 

“Azriel just wants Elain for sex.”

False. Until ACOSF, we had no indication that Azriel had sexual feelings for Elain. Based on his thoughts in the bonus chapter, his actions throughout ACOSF, we can infer that Azriel has romantic feelings for Elain. His friend. 

The following scenes, read together, imply that Azriel has feelings for Elain beyond platonic or sexual feelings (I have only included my favorites for the sake of brevity):

ACOWAR

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?” Something cold went through me. (Chp. 63)

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.” (Chp. 64)

The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. (Chp. 65)

She let out a sob at the sight of Elain, still in Azriel’s arms. (Chp. 65)

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. (Chp. 69)

ACOFAS

Azriel strode to the lone window at the end of the room and peered into the garden below. [...] “Azriel remained at the window. [...] Azriel said, turning from the garden window at last. (Chp. 16)

Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” (Chp. 12)

I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s—the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” (Chp. 19)

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” (Chp. 20)

ACOSF

“Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.” [...] Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. (Chp. 20)

Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.” (Chp. 22)

He was still happy to be Mor’s buffer with Azriel, but there’d been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel … those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he’d given up. After five hundred years, he’d somehow given up. Cassian couldn’t think why. (Chp. 22)

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. (Chp. 31)

Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. (Chp. 58)

I also want to add... That the notion that Azriel only has sexual feelings is immediately disproven by a close reading of the bonus chapter:

Rhys bared his teeth. "So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck  someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." 

Azriel snarled softly.

Azriel snarled in response to Rhys’ suggestion that his feelings are only sexual. The entire scene was Rhys not understanding that Azriel actually had feelings for Elain. Rhys even suggested that Azriel still had feelings for Mor when Cassian had noted that Azriel no longer pined for Mor. 

To add, Azriel is not going antagonize Rhys and potentially kick off a feud between courts if he only wanted Elain for sex. 

ALSO!!!!

AZRIEL IS NOT GOING TO DECLARE HIS LOVE FOR ELAIN IN A BONUS CHAPTER. NO AUTHOR WILL EVER GIVE AWAY A MAJOR PLOT POINT/TWIST IN A BONUS CHAPTER. THAT WILL BE IMPORTANT AND WILL BE SAID IN THE NEXT BOOK!

Cassian never admitting his feelings for Nesta in Wings and Embers. Hell, Nesta kicked him in the balls. But we don’t doubt Nessian, now do we?

I answered another anon here comparing Wings and Embers to Azriel’s bonus chapter, comparing the themes and overall feel. 

“Azriel feels entitled to Elain as the third sister.”

False. Azriel began to show interest in Elain prior to Nesta and Cassian getting together. Please see the quotes above if you don’t believe me. Also, please see my post on the progression of their relationship here. 

Azriel is the first person to figure out what Elain’s powers were. He pulled her from her trance. Immediately after the seer reveal, we start to see Elain revert back to normal. 

Azriel is the one who defends Elain against scrying, a very dangerous thing in ACOTAR may I remind you, when she is not there to defend herself.

Azriel is the one who would sit with Elain outside in the gardens. 

Azriel lent Elain his most prized possession to keep her safe during the war. 

“Azriel coddles her.”

False. Azriel gave Elain truth teller to defend herself. I’d hardly call that coddling.

Let’s take a look at that scene that misguidedly causes people to think that Azriel “coddles” Elain.

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.

Is Cassian coddling Nesta? No. They both have the same reaction. 

The coddling Elain experiences is from the Inner Circle constantly thinking she’s meek and reduces her to a simple girl who likes to garden. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Go back to Feyre and your little garden.”

and then when Nesta refuses to let Elain scry for the trove:

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

Very different scenarios. It’s one thing to be protective (one of SJM’s  favorite trope for romantic love interests). It’s another to belittle a person and then not let them grow. That is what Elain is referring to. That is the coddling she cannot stand. 

“Azriel is too messed up mentally to be with anybody.”

False. This is demonstrably false. It is fanon. When this argument is used, it’s used to discredit Elain as a love interest and prop Gwyn up. If Azriel is too messed up to be with Elain, he’s too messed up to be with anybody. Period.

Nesta parallels Azriel in a lot of ways. And everybody loves Nesta and Cassian’s relationship now. Azriel does not have any of the mental illnesses the WebMD doctors come up with every other day. At the most, he has issues with his self worth and possible depression. At the most. 

Saying that a character cannot be in a romantic relationship due to his mental health directly implies that individuals who are suffering with mental health issues cannot get into romantic relationships. That’s wrong and that’s mean.

In Conclusion

Elain and Azriel went from being strangers, to friends, to now possible lovers in a span of two years. 

Their relationship is the most realistic one SJM has written. Nothing about them is toxic. They are kind and considerate of one another. Their feelings have slowly progressed and there are barriers to their relationship (namely, Elain’s mating bond to Lucien). 

There is a difference between not liking Elain and Azriel together (an opinion) and saying Elain and Azriel are toxic together (a falsehood). 

[almosttenaciousmoon]

By the way, she’s safe with me

AN: So this is my first ever fic / oneshot so it may not be the best but I wrote half of this at 2:00am and than finished it first thing in the morning. It’s unedited so just ignore the mistakes. I hope it’s a ok. 

Also ‘cinta ku’ translates to ‘my love’ in Indonesian.

Summary: Gwyn wakes up from a nightmare but Azriel is there to comfort her.

Tagging @daevastanner for encouraging me to write down my head-cannons

Soft moonlight filters through the floor to ceiling windows illuminating the graphite room. As wisps of shadows adorned the walls rising and falling seemingly in time with every breathe the room’s occupants took.

The shadowsinger lay awake staring down at the strands of silky copper hair threaded through his fingers. Sprawled across his chest, Gwyn’s soft snores breath against his chest as he admired his resting mate. Her steady heartbeat and even breathing were indicators that she was finally resting having recovered from her nightmare not a half-hour ago.

Azriel had awoken from his admittedly light slumber to the raged breading and heavy panting from his valkyrie. Feeling the loss of her weight and hearing the rustle of sheets as she got up, he sat up wings spread against the headboard as he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. 

“Cinta ku, are you ok?” Azriel asked, voice a little rougher than usual as he recovers from what little sleep he had left. “Yes.” A yawn escaped her. “Just a dream. You can go back to sleep Az. You need rest for the mission tomorrow.” Gwyn argues as she sits at the edge of the bed reaching for a cup of water on the nightstand. 

“ You need rest as much as I do.” He argues because tomorrow he and Gwyn along with Cassian and Nesta would be flying up to Windhaven to meet up with Emerie and assist her in training the Illyrian females. It seams that after the valkyries success in the blood rite, more and more females have taken to training and fighting over the recent years. Some trained as part of the Illyrian army. While others chose to join the increasing number of Valkyrie recruits, helping to build up their ranks.

“Even so, you’d be the one flying us up.” Gwyn countered disposing of the cup and crawling her way up to his lap. Now nestled comfortably on his lap with her head resting on the crook of his neck, Gwyn wrapped her arms around his middle. “Wanna talk about it?” The shadowsinger offers as he tucks the crown of molten copper beneath his chin, content in idly tracing shapes against the silk of her nightgown. His stubborn yet clearly distorted mate shook her head.

While he knew that sometimes it was good to talk about the demons that plague your sleep, he also knew that sometimes you need time to process it all and other times it’s just too much and all you need is to simply be held. To have someone to hold you and anchor you back to reality as your mind becomes a maelstrom of doubt and fears. As streams of insecurities threaten to drown you.

After some minutes Gwyn pulled away tilting her head up in order to look at him. Soft hazel orbs met slightly glazed teal and one look and he could see all to guilt and grief stifled with self-loathing he felt down their mating bond. At that, the shadowsinger’s hold tightened on her waist.

“I-I needed to process what happened first. To figure out what part of the dream was real and what my ever creative mind has contorted for me tonight.” She whispers more light-heartedly towards the end as she tries to lighten the mood. “Tonight I dreamt of Catrin.” She says, tilting her head up, she was meet with pulls dusty brown swirled in with moss and warmed by an inner gold. His hazel gaze shone with quiet encouragement silently willing her to share her dream. 

With that, the valkyrie continued.”The difference tonight being that the dream started off as a happy memory. I sat upon the boulders next to our lake in Sangravah. I lie down, content in enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun as I read about two lovers dancing through a spring shower. Catrin’s swimming in the lake. Her head underwater blowing bubbles to show me where she is. I hear her swimming closer to me. Her laugh so care free, is suddenly cut short by a stifling scream.” Her chest once again starts to heave. The shadowsinger continued his southing stokes on her back the scent of her growing anxiety drenches the room. Dread coils low and deep in his stomach as she looked up at him, eyes dull with resignation.

That look sends him spiralling as he questions what cruel dreams have played in her head tonight? Reaching a hand to cup her face, he pushed away those thoughts, determined to keep that calming presence there for her. A deep breath as she returned her head to rest on his shoulder. “Something must have grabbed at her feet, slowly dragging her down. Drowning her” She murmurs against his skin. “Catrin kept streaming out to me. Hopelessly thrashing against the water. I tried to reach out to her, but it was as if invisible hands held me down. Restraining me.” He feels the silent tears as they slide down his back.” It felt just like Sangravah. I couldn’t save her than and I failed her again. Even in my dreams, I’m always powerless to save her.” Gwyn ads through heaping sobs. 

Two fingers slowly lift her chin. Hazel eyes trained to her face. Shining with reverence. He knew. He knew how it felt to feel powerless in saving someone you loved. He knew how it felt to wake up feeling like your back at square one. With that understanding, swallowing the emotion in his voice. The shadowsinger assured her.

“ You didn’t fail her.”  

You never have, and never cold dear sister. The shadowsinger could have sworn the room’s temperature dropped,if only for a second. He could have sworn there was another presence in the room.

She looked ready to argue but a finger pressed against her lips assuring her he wasn’t finished. “ You said it yourself, you fought against those restraints it order to get to her. You fought, objecting to whatever held you from her. Your love for your sister is shown by that simple thought you had. To get to her. To save her.” He looked at her with an intensity charged by reassurance. Reassurance for her. From his words. 

“I know sometimes that grief and self doubt can threaten to pull you under. That even as everything seams to get better, It claws it’s way into your mind and sneaks up on you when you least expect it to.” He tells her.” But with that, also remember to acknowledge the progress you make. Admittedly, it’s easier said than done but I want you to promise me that every time those insecurities come chasing. That you turn to me and ask of a reminder. A reminder of an achievement. It doesn’t have to be a big one. Even something as mundane as being abel to go back to sleep after a nightmare.” And he’s looking at her again. With that unrelenting love that she’s still working to believe she deserves.

“I know that sometimes, it’s hard to remember something positive when all your mind seems to recall is the failures. That’s when you turn to me. You don’t need to do it all alone. Just because we’re immortal, doesn’t mean we’re invincible. I can only hope that one day you can see a glimpse of the Gwyn I see.” Az tells her.

“And what do you see?” She retorts. A small smile graces her perfect face.

“I see a warrior. A survivor. An unrelenting fighter who even when the world owed her nothing, she demanded something of it anyways.” He smiled, tucking her smaller frame to his chest as he brought them back to the bed.

With Gwyn now resting on his chest. Head tucked under his chin. Wings gently wrapped around her, He looks out the window and at the shining stars. “I hope you know she’s safe with me.” The shadowsinger whispered to his mates sister. Knowing that she was smiling, from wherever she stud. 

She smiles from the reassurance that her sister is once agin safe with a new family to hold her.

I’ll meet you in the next life. She promisees to the mated pair. 

[morganaspendragonss]

so so many thanks to everyone who read even one of these stories. i am forever grateful for all the support i've received; every comment, every kudos, every reblog, every like - they all mean so much. i'm overwhelmed, honestly, but in the very best way. ily all 🥰

day one: against all odds (we're still here) for @trkstrnd

Carlos will hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused on his task that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

*

a simple trip to the grocery store quickly turns to disaster for tk and carlos

day two: out, damned spot for anon

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

day three: the meetings for those in my wake for @freddieholic

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news, and almost always about their son. Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas, which is why she thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Gwyn, it’s TK. He's... They think we should say goodbye."

day four: a friend in me for 📍 anon

Carlos has come to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But, right now, as she sits hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, he's never seen her look so small.

or

the story of how nancy and carlos become the new champions of 126 games nights

day five: truth is heavier than fiction for anon

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

day six: slowly, and then all at once for @pragmaticoptimist34

The realisation that he loves Carlos hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

And at the worst possible moment.

We are getting updates on the active shooter situation at the Four Seasons Hotel. Austin Police Department have closed off the area and officers are currently preparing to enter the building to detain the suspect. It is as yet unknown if there have been any civilian casualties, but—

“Paul, turn the damn TV back on.”

“No.”

*

five times tk can't admit his feelings about carlos, and one time he finally does

day seven: the promise of tomorrow for anon

Up until five minutes ago, Carlos had been terrified of never having TK in his arms again. Now, the thought of letting him go scares him just as much, and TK seems to feel the same, if the way he’s clutching at Carlos’s jacket and pulling it tight across his back is any indication.

Carlos hugs him close, sinking down to his knees as TK falls into the chair behind him, letting the rest of the room fade away to nothing as he realises that they weren’t too late—that TK is here, with him, alive and mostly whole.

day eight: we'll hold each other soon for @221bsunsettowers

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away.

It's the last good memory Carlos has, and he's going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he's going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK's smile.

day nine: now i am just but the wayward man for anon

Ben is glaring at him again.

Klaus is very familiar with this specific glare—it’s the one Ben breaks out when Klaus is being ‘stubborn’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘a fucking asshole junkie with no self-respect who only cares about the next high and, really, it’s a fucking miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Klaus’.

He has to hand it to him. Ben really does have him down to a tee.

*

winter is approaching and klaus has nowhere to go. his siblings are his only option—meaning he effectively has no options.

day ten: i can't imagine my life without you for 📍 anon

It had come completely out of left field—one minute everything was fine, the next Carlos had turned to him with guarded eyes and a clenched jaw, and said six words that sent TK’s whole world crashing down.

“I think we need a break.”

*

nobody likes to be asked 'trouble in paradise?', particularly when the answer is yes.

day eleven: start again from the beginning for anon

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

day twelve: let me love you when your heart is tired for anon

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

day thirteen: couldn't utter my love when it counted for 📍 anon

TK takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken. For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

*

after the boba date, tk lets carlos go. they're friends, which is working just fine, until a horrific accident threatens to take even that away from them.

day fourteen: if i walk out the door (a thousand eyes) for anon

TK gets this feeling sometimes, a sort of prickling at his back, like someone’s behind him, breathing down his neck. At first, it was only a once-in-a-while situation, so he thinks nothing of it; when it becomes an everyday occurrence, he starts to wonder, but he’s probably just being paranoid. The shooting, kidnapping, firehouse explosion, and the fire at his and Carlos’s house had all taken their toll, and TK’s just generally more on edge these days.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the feeling, not even Carlos. There’s no reason to fuck up everyone else’s peace with something so stupid. It’ll go away eventually; TK’s sure of it.

That is, until one of the lots just down from the firehouse gets occupied.

day fifteen: find you here inside the dark for @fanfic-corner

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

day sixteen: accidents happen for @ilovemosss

So, Jason reflects, it may not have been the best idea to take Pythagoras out training while they’re all suffering from a severe lack of sleep. Being the more logical of them, Pythagoras, to his credit, had attempted to talk him out of it, but Jason ignored him.

He very much regrets that decision now.

day seventeen: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team) for @laelipoo

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the little blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

day eighteen: in perfect harmony for @anyotherheartwilldo

Here’s the thing—Carlos doesn’t believe in signs. He used to when he was younger, raised on his abuela’s stories, but as he’d gotten older his father had taught him that what mattered was the choices he made. He’s the only one who has a say in the way his life turns out, and if he wants something, he has to put in the work to get it.

But there comes a point—namely, after his fifth thwarted attempt to propose to TK—when he begins to wonder if the universe really does have something against him.

*

proposing to tk proves far more complicated than carlos had first thought.

day nineteen: whatever here that's left of me (is yours) for anon

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie? Was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

*

post-2.12, carlos finds comfort in tk's hoodies.

day twenty: can't smile without you for anon

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

*

a before, during, and after of tk's kidnapping in a hole where your memory goes

day twenty-one: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide for @freddieholic

“Can I ask you something else?”

TK stiffens at the sound of Mateo’s voice, a nervous note to it that wasn’t there last time. Something tells him he knows exactly what Mateo wants to ask; still, he turns to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as casually as he can manage. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Mateo trails off, biting his lip and avoiding TK’s gaze. “I mean, do you… I mean—”

“You can say it, you know,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “If you want to know if I’m thinking about heading out and getting high, then just ask.”

*

five times tk turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms when he wants to use + one time he finally asks for help

day twenty-two: know me crazy, soothe me daily for anon

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him about it. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally."

*

in which carlos gets a little over-protective and tk is mildly exasperated

day twenty-three: lover, be good to me for anon

Carlos holds his arms out, and TK comes willingly, setting what Carlos now recognises as a tray of food carefully on the bed. “What’s this?”

TK stares as if it’s obvious. “Date night.”

“What?”

TK pauses, then gasps. “You’re right.” He pats himself down frantically, then pulls an object out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. It’s a little electric tea light—real candles long since banned from the bedroom—and Carlos watches in bemusement as TK flicks it on and sets it down on the tray. “Now it’s date night.”

*

his fiancé being bed-bound isn't going to keep tk from date night

day twenty-four: bring you in from the cold for anon

As a cop, Carlos has always been uncomfortably aware of his own mortality. He’s considered his own death more than is probably healthy, but when you’re facing down the barrel of a gun almost every single day, it’s kind of forced on you.

He’s imagined himself being shot, stabbed, strangled, and everything in between.

But he’s not sure he ever pictured dying in a walk-in freezer after getting trapped there by mistake.

day twenty-five: heaving through corrupted lungs for anon

TK is itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

*

when carlos falls ill, they think it's just a bad cold. but when tk goes to check on him, he's in for a nasty shock.

day twenty-six: slowly becoming lovers for @pragmaticoptimist34

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

*

tk and carlos, getting to know each other and falling in love

day twenty-seven: and curse the gods for @girlwhowasntthere

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

day twenty-eight: ignoring every warning for @moviegeek03

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he's hurting.

day twenty-nine: can you beat back the night? for @girlwhowasntthere

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

*

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

day thirty: ease my mind for @silvarafael

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

day thirty-one: scars turn to memories for anon

Their front door is open. It’s wide open, and the wood of the door frame is broken, splinters littering the driveway and the floor of the front room. TK’s heart stops in his chest as he surveys the scene, his brain going blank, struggling to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Everything is quiet in the front room, not even a table setting out of place. TK creeps further into their home, his every nerve on edge as he barely breathes for fear of alerting whoever’s here of his presence.

And then, he remembers.

Carlos was off shift tonight. He was here. Alone.

[futures-tense]

Oh man I need enzo and tk content so so bad I have so many head canons including enzo being Jewish too and the only reason TK stayed connected to his culture and TK came out to him first and TK told him first about his addiction in high school and enzo stayed with him through detox, it would be so sweet to see young TK and enzo in a scene like that where they’re on the bathroom floor with TK hurling his guts out through detox and enzo just rubbing his back and holding him, brushing his hair out of his face and saying reassurances?!???

And 2 months and 4k words later, I present to you:

what i really wanted was a father // 4.9k words //

trigger warning: implied drug use, hospitalization, implied homophobia

NYC, 2008

TK pushed the door to the apartment open, twisting his fingers around the key ring.

Was he honestly thinking about doing this? What if he’d read Enzo wrong? He did have a habit of doing that.

“Enzo?”

He heard a door open down the hall before Enzo turned the corner a moment later.

“Hey, kid,” he smiled. “How was school?”

The tension in TK’s shoulders seemed to slip away as he let his bag fall against the wall.

“Boring.”

Enzo narrowed his eyes at him slightly, like he knew something was wrong.

Oh, god, he knows already.

TK shifted. “Uh, can-can I talk to you about something? Like...just between us?”

Enzo raised his eyebrow, “yeah, of course. Do you mind if we talk in the kitchen? I’m making challah.”

TK grinned at that. “Can I help?”

“Absolutely.”

TK followed him into the kitchen, washed his hands, and sat at the counter. Enzo placed a chunk of dough in front of him and he set to work. He rolled it out into a long line, tore it about a third of the way from each end, and lined the pieces next to each other. He felt the other man’s eyes on him and took a breath before looking up.

“So that secret thing you wanted to talk about?”

TK looked down at the dough and started to braid the pieces together. One over the other, then the next, and the next. His shaking hands were making it that much harder.

“I think,” he started slowly, “that I might be gay.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting. He didn’t think Enzo would lash out or anything. But when he looked up he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Enzo finished the braid, scoring the end of it with a toothpick.

He met TK’s eyes. “I’m glad you told me. And I’m very proud of you; I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

TK’s voice caught in his throat and he shook his head to try to push back the tears. It had the opposite effect so he covered his face as a muffled sob tore through him.

“Hey,” Enzo softly, rounding the counter and pulling him close. “Hey, it’s alright. Look at me, TK.”

TK looked up at him hesitantly, sniffling a little.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re always going to have my support. Okay? So, just breathe. Everything Is going to be okay.”

Austin, 2021

Carlos watches his boyfriend, still and silent. Unchanging. Maybe it’s a trick of the light or maybe the bruise around TK’s left eye honestly is looking better than yesterday. The cast around his foot and lower leg is sticking out from the edge of the blanket. He has a cut in the corner of his lip that looks suspiciously like the one from that night at the station.

The same as he had been the past nine days.

“You know…this is why we never go anywhere,” he says, leaning forward. “Shit like this never happens when we stay home, or- or go to a movie, or-” He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “This never would have happened if you would have just let me cook.”

It was their anniversary so they’d gone to the same honky-tonk from that first night-- TK’s idea. And they danced and had fun. After a while, Carlos said he wanted to show him something-- something he’d love.

As long as you’re there, TK said, I know I’ll love it.

Carlos had rolled his eyes playfully. What happened next, must have been the mistake. Or maybe his mistake had been earlier- pressing TK against the wall and kissing him carefully after a round of darts. Maybe it was the extra few moments he’d spent in the car, smiling like an idiot before he’d pulled up.

Maybe it was nothing he’d done. Maybe if he’d stayed with TK nothing would have been different; maybe he’d be in a bed next to him.

He reaches out and carefully lifts TK’s hand to his lips, careful of the cuts and abrasions that are there.

“You can’t keep doing this to me, Ty.”

“Any changes yet?”

Carlos jumps slightly at the voice, smiling faintly at Gwyn. “No, not- not yet.”

She leans against the door, looking over her son like some kind of guardian angel.

Carlos takes a small breath. “Gwen, I… I wanted to, um…” He shakes his head; he wants to look up but instead keeps his eyes on his hands. “This is all my fault.”

Gwen takes a step, her shoes squeaking on the tile as she does.

Must be raining, he thinks.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

“I left him alone for one minute and-”

“Carlos, stop. None of this is anyone’s fault except that asshole who-”

“If I had just-”

“Carlos.”

He shakes his head, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Gwen puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him close. “It’s alright, Carlos, he’s going to be okay.”

He shakes his head again. “I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s not.”

Continue reading on Ao3

[ialwaysgobacktoit]

Time to rest your weary head: Part 13!

IT TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH, but it is here!!! As I explained before, I was facing the last weeks of my semester, delivering final papers and such, but now I'm freee!!!! I thank you all for your patience and eternal support, really <3 hope you like this one! :)))

Also tagging some of my beautiful readers <3 @madie2200 @katiebellf @starbornsinger

Last thing: I wanna leave here my praise to all fic writers and fanfiction and headcanons I had the pleasure of reading on this website; you all inspire me so much, and I’m glad to say I am a part of such a beautiful net of sharing and reading other’s stories :) you are awesome and you inspire me to keep on writing! Thank you :)

Check out the Chapter List and Part 12 if you haven't read it yet!

It was late, but Azriel didn’t mind. He felt like he could explode: like all of a sudden, all his life made much more sense.

He had a mate.

That mate was Gwyn.

And Gwyn had kissed him.

As he jumped off the balcony at the House of Wind, diving fast before soaring, he couldn’t contain his grin. His heart hadn’t stopped thundering in his chest ever since he got to her door. They kissed, and he sensed her affection and desire as sure as she had felt his. He held her in his arms, just like he had that night all those weeks ago. And he had missed so badly doing so, he realized the second he felt her hand on his cheek, caressing him in a way no one ever had, before she enlaced her arms behind his neck.

He felt like a teenager, his Ilyrian hormones pumping through his body, making him restless and euphoric. He wanted so bad to go back, to just stay with her, to make up any excuse to see her, to wake her up, to lay down with her. To spend every second he had right next to her, learning all the different ways he could make her glow.

For so long, he deemed himself worthless; tainted and scarred and damaged. But now he could see that perhaps that wasn’t true. He was hurt, but he could heal; everyone had a past, and it shouldn’t prevent them from living their present. And Gwyn… She was the reason he started believing that. That he had hope left, and that maybe…. Maybe he could care about himself just like others cared about him.

It took a second to realize he was crying. Alone, just him and his shadows, as he soared and spun across the night sky, he was crying. Sobbing and laughing uncontrollably at the same time. He breathed in and out, trying to calm his racing heart, but he still let the tears flow; he still kept smiling, the image of Gwyn’s face never fading from his mind.

Feeling the cold wind across his face, he landed on the pathway to the River House. It was all dark, but he could see a dim light from one of the windows. Rhys’s study.

Rhys. He lowered his mental shields enough so he could voice his brother’s name. Are you there?

Silence, before Rhys’s voice sounded. Yes. Are you alright?

I need to talk to you. May I come in?

He heard footsteps approaching the front door, and then Rhysand was staring at him, violet eyes dark in the dim light. “Come in, brother.”

He was greeted by the image of Nesta facing him, that huge portrait that Feyre had painted some time ago, after The Blood Rite. The house was silent, and all he could hear was his steps as he followed Rhysand to his study.

When he closed the door, Rhysand had just sat down at his armchair.

“Are Feyre and Nyx asleep?”

“Fortunately. The kid’s been having some trouble sleeping these last few months, therefore so have we.” He snorted, but smiled fondly at the thought of his family. “Sit down, Az.”

He obliged, and felt the way Rhys sized him up, trying to decipher what was going on with him. And although Azriel’s expression yielded nothing, he didn’t make an effort to wipe away his tears from before; so his brother was probably putting up the pieces together by now.

Azriel didn’t leave enough time for him to do so, as he again talked to him mentally.

Gwyn is my mate. But I reckon you already know that.

I do. I suppose it didn’t go well, then.

And Cauldron-damn him if he didn’t start laughing at that. And not a bitter one, but a true, genuine chuckle that made Rhys’s brows shot up and a bemused smile appeared on his face.

“It went more than well, actually.” Azriel corrected, shaking his head as he looked to the ground, still smiling. “And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” His brother shifted in his seat, resting his elbows in his knees and interlocking his fingers.

So Azriel explained what Rhys needed to do for them. He honestly didn’t care if his family knew or not about their mating bond, but was well aware Gwyn might need some time to adjust – and the required privacy to do so. And that was fine with him; as long as he was able to spend time with her, he’d be happy. In any way she wanted.

When he was finished, they stood in silence for a couple of seconds.

“So, I see you have your shot at happiness in your hands at last, brother.” Rhysand stated, with a knowing smile on his face.

“I do.”

“She was very good at refraining from telling you. Of course, I didn’t mean to pry when I found out. But do you know why I read her thoughts that night?”

Azriel shook his head, and watched as his brother declared with a low tone.

“She was just sitting there, in a midst of people whom she didn’t have familiarity with, and you were by your usual spot, talking to Mor. And she was just staring at you, eyes full of an emotion I couldn’t decipher, but I knew what that gesture meant. She couldn’t keep herself from looking at you, just as you couldn’t stop from glancing at her time and time again during the evening: like you were drawn to each other. I was going to ask her if she needed to talk about it, though I knew it was none of my business and she was unlikely to do so, but then I read her thoughts about you being mates.”

“That’s why I didn’t meddle in. I was witnessing something way bigger than me, and I think you know what I mean.” He finished, and completed “That’s why I - and Feyre - kept quiet about it.”

All Azriel could do was laugh quietly again at the mention of his High Lady. “Of course she’d know.”

“My dear brother, I learned by experience you shouldn’t keep things from your mate, even if it is to protect them. You're supposed to walk through it together.” Regret crossed Rhysand’s face at that confession.

Azriel knew that although his brother claimed to hide the details of Feyre’s pregnancy from her not to worry her, it wasn’t exactly fair all the same.

“But I’m certain you’ll learn that with time.” He completed, leaning over to pat Azriel on his knee. “So, don’t worry. I will do as you ask.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and stood up, meaning to leave. But, just as he was reaching the door, a thought occurred and he turned again to his High Lord.

“Rhys” He kept sitting on his chair, staring at him expectantly “It took me long enough to realize, but I’m glad you stopped me that Solstice night.”

Rhysand let out a soft chuckle at that, and bowed his head slightly, raising his glass. Knowing well what Azriel had meant with that.

****

His shadows were restless. He barely slept during the rest of the evening, his mind too awake to give in to slumber. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was slightly nervous to see Gwyn again – and to see if they’re new acknowledged bond would stand out or if Rhysand’s spell would work. He wouldn’t doubt of his High Lord and brother, but still. He wanted to see it for himself.

He stood in the training ring ever since sunrise. Gwyn had gone to her usual morning service and he hadn’t seen her, only felt her absence in the House, both an effect from the mating bond and his shadows, since they were so eager to be around her. So he sparred for hours, waiting for the moment training began and he would see her again.

The priestesses started to arrive right about the time Cassian showed up.

“Morning, brother”

Azriel nodded back, and turned to arrange the practice swords and shields into place, preparing the room.

“How was last night?”

He could sense Cassian’s presence behind him, and the innuendo in his sly tone. Gwyn’s image appeared in his mind once again, her burgundy dress complimenting her body’s every feature. He could feel her in his arms, their proximity and heat, the way he kissed her with all need and tenderness he ever felt towards her, the small sound she made when he pulled her close, pressing their bodies together… He was cut short from his thoughts when Cassian cleared his throat, suppressing a laugh.

“I can scent everything went well, then.”

Fuck.

He started thinking about other things, anything at all, to cover his desiring scent. It wasn’t professional nor respectful to appear that way in front of the Priestesses, even though Cassian and Nesta didn’t seem to mind covering their own arousal multiple times during all these months.

It was right at that moment Cassian’s mate and Gwyn arrived, their voices filling up the air. Azriel was still with his back to the door, and counted a total of five seconds before turning around and facing the deep teal ocean that were Gwyn’s eyes.

Like the seas in Reyna.

His shadows whispered one of Summer Court’s many beaches, the quietest, most isolated and beautiful one. Azriel felt a subtle need to take her there someday, to travel around Prythian with her, to watch her explore and discover the continent, her face lighting up with each new sight.

He casually approached the two females, who were still talking while they began their stretching on the mats.

“Good morning.” He let out, dipping his head a bit.

“Hello.” Gwyn greeted back, meeting his eyes. He watched as she breathed, noticing every detail of her exposed neck and freckled cheeks before meeting her eyes. It was a monumental effort to not scan her entire body and take in all of her curves. She seemed to notice that, and with a thrilling sensation he watched her face blush.

“Good morning to you too, Azriel” Nesta mocked, interrupting their charged silence. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

She directed this particular question to both of them. Gwyn finally tore her eyes away from Azriel, doing nothing to conceal her flushed cheeks.

“Yes.” She nodded a bit timidly, biting down her lip to keep her from smiling further, and met her friend’s inquisitive stare with a sparkle that almost sent Azriel to his knees.

Damn. That female would be the death of him.

“We did indeed.” Azriel found himself agreeing, his voice rough all of a sudden. His shadows reached towards Gwyn, desperately trying to turn her attention to him, to them. He wanted to be lost in those teal eyes again, to be alone with her.

“I’m glad to hear that, Gwyn.” Nesta smiled kindly to Gwyn, honesty and pride in her tone. “Although you’re aware you’ll have to give me more details later.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, continuing her warm-up exercises while Nesta stood up. As she went on to stretch her thigh, holding it behind her back, she leaned on Azriel, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady herself and taking advantage of the situation by voicing quietly:

“You hurt my sister and I’ll make you regret it, Spymaster.”

His shadows protectively wrapped around his shoulders, but he was well accustomed to Nesta and they had developed a great friendship after all those months. He could always understand and read through her pain and aggressiveness, even when others didn’t. He did believe her words, though. She, pretty much like him, would do anything to protect the ones she loved.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He nodded once, staring into her piercing eyes, and she patted his shoulder once, seeming satisfied with his answer, before pushing back and striding towards Cassian.

Gwyn kept stretching on the floor, but he could see she heard everything they said by her amused smile as she watched her friend walking away. Azriel reached his hand towards her, and she faced him again and grabbed it, helping herself up.

They were standing face to face now, hands still intertwined. He could hear Cassian and Nesta organizing the Priestesses in the background, the rustle of robes and training leathers as they moved across the training ring. But he couldn’t care less, not when he was holding his mate’s hand, face mere inches from hers.

“It seems you just got intimated by Nesta, huh?” She teased.

He shrugged: “It’s nothing to which I’m not used to by now.”

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling and her voice a sweet melody to his ears. He couldn’t stop but join her, with a quiet laugh. He could feel both Cassian and Nesta’s stare on them, observing their every move. It didn’t seem like the couple caught up on the scent of their mating bond, even though that faint chill mist mixed with water lilies, the combination of him and her, was currently inebriating his senses.

“Could we see each other later today?” Gwyn surprised him by asking, her big bright eyes waiting expectantly for him to answer.

She took a sudden breath, like she was trying to capture the new scent they shared as well, and Azriel found his lips blooming into a smile, both at the thought and at the request:

“I’d love to.”

She beamed “You can meet me at the library, if you are free.”

Gods, she was stunning. He couldn’t stop counting her freckles, observing the way her ponytail twirled behind her back, marveling at how warm her hand felt against his. What a strange and powerful feeling, he thought; to miss someone with that intensity, to desire more than anything to be close to them at all times.

And Azriel wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll be there.”

***

And so he went. After successfully ignoring most of Cassian and Nesta’s teasing remarks through training and lunch, none of them, however, related to the mating bond, Azriel found himself heading towards the library.

He was greeted by Clotho as soon as he entered the space, her magic pen already moving.

Good afternoon, Azriel. What can I do for you?

“I’m looking for Gwyn.” He cordially bowed his head to the Priestess.

Do you want me to call her?

“Thank you, but there is no need. If you could just tell me in which section she is I’ll meet her there, if that’s ok.”

“Ancient hymns and rituals”, third floor down to the right. You’ll find her.

He swore something about the way that magic pen swirled at the last sentence had a tinge of cheekiness, mischief even. So he gave Clotho a soft smile and went into the depths of the library, descending the stars and carefully avoiding staring directly at any Priestess that walked by, only greeting quietly the ones he knew from training.

As usual, his shadows kept swirling faster and faster with each step closer to Gwyn, excited at the prospect of being alone with her. Well, not alone entirely, but Azriel didn’t particularly care at the moment. He knew the curious eyes directed at them would be much more discreet than the ones at training – or anywhere else, for a matter of fact.

He could hear her before he saw her, humming softly as she labeled and stored a few books back on their spots. His heart thrummed against his chest, and he leaned on a shelf across from where she stood, still absorbed in her task, humming the same sweet melody over and over again.

Before he managed to say anything, one of his shadows darted to touch her hand, and her eyes lifted from the book she was holding and met his, her mouth quirked to the side.

“How long have you been there?” She put down the book and crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting an eyebrow.

His shadows had encapsulated her shoulders and hair now, in a way that she seemed to be the Shadowsinger, and not him. He commanded them to get back to their places, but in vain. He honestly didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

“Not long.” He finally pushed away from his place by the shelf and stepped towards her, while she did the same.

He grabbed her hand, his thumb feeling her soft skin. His shadows encircled them both now, creating a dark cloud in an already dim-lit room. Gwyn laughed at them; curiously following their patterns with her eyes, hand still intertwined with his.

“They never did that before, with anyone.” Azriel observed the way his shadows expanded and darkened around and above them.

“Well, as you said before, they like me. If I were you, I’d be worried they might run away and come to me. I wouldn’t mind at all. Curious little things.”

When he faced her again she was staring at him with such intent he drew a ragged breath, mind focusing only on the female before him. The poor lighting of this particular hallway made her eyes darken, her pupils dilate, mouth slightly parted. Her copper hair now a shade of deep red, like molten fire. He just wanted to kiss each and every one of her freckles, from her face to her neck and below.

The thought made his body ache for her, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He breathed deep, once, twice, in order to calm his mind and thoughts, but was cut short when her lips met his.

His arms instantly found their way to her hips, gripping her gently. She tugged her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him as the kiss deepened, her lips parting wider to give him access. He enlaced one arm around her, keeping her close and placing his other hand in the back of her neck. He could hear a song, an ancient melody spreading from them, an array of strings and choirs.

When they parted at last, her eyes were wide.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered as they breathed in each other’s scent. Her hands were still on his hair, and he couldn’t take his hands off her just yet, placing them steadily on her hips once again.

He nodded, smiling, and she laughed silently before continuing: “It was magical.”

He leaned to kiss her once again, stopping for a brief second and silently asking for her permission to continue. She closed her eyes, lifting her face, and a soft sigh escaped her lips when they met his for the second time. It was softer this time, tender. Azriel didn’t know if something could ever feel better than this, than having his mate in his arms; than having Gwyn in his arms.

When they parted, he rested his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling. The scent of their mating bond stronger this time, only enough for them to sense it.

“Do you think they could feel it today?” Gwyn seemed to read his mind. “Our scent.”

He met her ocean eyes and shook his head: “Well, Nesta has a sharp mind, and Cassian knows me my entire life. They definitely suspect something.” He huffed a laugh “But not relating to the bond. They probably think is a crush thing.”

She laughed at him, teasingly: “Is it, Shadowsinger? A crush thing?”

“It’s so much more and you know it, Berdara.” He answered in the same tone, but he knew by the way she swallowed once that she heard the husk in his voice, sensing the promise in his words.

Someone is near. Priestesses.

His shadows curled around his ear and he retreated a step, just enough to allow a casual distance between them. Gwyn turned her head to the sound of robes shuffling by, and looked at him again. “Care to join me?” She offered, nodding towards the cart with a loving smile.

“Gladly.”

They fell into a comfortable routine after Gwyn taught him how to shelve the books she cataloged and labeled; sometimes she hummed or sang something to herself, and it was usually at those times when he paused what he was doing, bewitched by her voice. Even the movements of the other Priestesses seemed to still when Gwyn sang, the whole world going quiet. Usually, though, she noticed the subtle halt in his movements after a few moments, and interrupted herself by laughing at his reaction.

If Azriel could exchange the work he did as a Spymaster to just label and store books with Gwyn the whole afternoon, he would. Even if he knew the importance of his work, he would trade everything in a heartbeat just to be with her. Or perhaps he really needed a break.

There was a time in which he thought his spying to be the only thing that he was meant to do. And there was so much in it that he disliked: the torture, the gore. But maybe… Maybe it was time for him to start making some changes. For his sake, and the ones he loved.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her quiet voice distracted him from his thoughts. He shook his head, shelving another book, and turned to her, finding her kind eyes staring straight back at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Az.” Gwyn reached for him, holding his hand in hers “You know you can tell me.”

“It’s just” He gazed at their joint hands and sighed “I did such bad things in the past, and have been doing it for so long… I'm tired of it.”

She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers against his skin, meeting his stare. “You did a lot of great things too, Azriel. Like helping your friends, your family, your people… And me.” She smiled, reassuringly. “You were the one who saved me that night all those nights ago, and then helped me stand up back on my feet every morning after it. You helped me become who I am today.”

Her tenderness broke him, touched a place inside him he was just starting to realize he had, and he took a deep breath before he took her hands in his, lifting them to meet his lips. The only possible reaction he could have to all that gentleness without allowing tears to fall; and he prayed to the Mother it could convey everything he felt.

The way Gwyn smiled and leaned in to softly kiss his cheek gave him his answer.

[meher-sumedha]

Gwynriel Headcanon : A lifetime is enough for making new memories

Warning : Few mentions of Gwyn's past, read at your own risk.

Azriel didn't know what to think, or do. He just stood there. Gwyn had forgotten all their memories. And she was his-his mate.

His beautiful mate. His lovely beautiful mate who was now looking at him. Her brows crunched, her lips in a tight line. And when he met her gaze, his heart only broke more.

He could see the curiosity in her eyes. About what the hell was going on. But he couldn't see the cheerfullness, the happiness in her eyes.

Azriel looked towards Rhysand, for a solution. But he could see Rhys was already trying to do that. And then he saw Rhysand's gaze shift towards Feyre. They were communicating, Azriel realized.

And then Rhysand suddenly said, "There is something we can do. We could do a memory tansplant, but I'd need to see all your memories with Gwyn. I'd need to make a copy of them in my brain, and make that copy in Gwyn's brain. But I'd always have that memory-"

"I'll do it" Nesta said, and Cassian and Emerie nodded. "Will she also be able to remember training this way? " Nesta asked, eager to do anything for her sister that would help.

"Yes, it will, but I could damage all your memories if even one thing goes wrong-", "It's fine, we'll do it".

"Well what about her and Azriel's personal training sessions? It's one of the reasons why she's the farthest in the training" Said Feyre and looked at Azriel.

And in a single second Azriel said, "NO" and showed more emotion than he had intended to. Rhysand was going to interrupt, but Azriel said before he could open his mouth, "We can catch up from our personal training" And he walked out of the room.

He had his reasons. He would not give up their memories, for they were too personal. He would not give up their memories, without Gwyn's consent.

Whenever Azriel used to be sad, she would try to cheer him up. Whenever he had a nightmare, his legs would instinctively walk him towards her room :

Azriel didn't know what had taken over his mind. But as soon as he had gotten that nightmare, he didn't know what else he could do.

That nightmare, the nightmare about Gwyn, about Gwyn being abused by those soldiers, again, and again, and again. And he- he just stood there, not being able to do anything.

And in the end, in the end of his dream, all she said in between sobs was - "If only you could have come a bit earlier, " And his dream had ended. And now he was here, he should just go back. Why burden her?

She'd just think he's trying to insult her? She'd think he wouldn't care. Why try? But he'd knocked. Once, twice, thrice he had knocked, yet no one had answered. He could feel her scent from across the door, but he- he didn't do anything.

He knew she felt it whenever he came near, yet he didn't knock again. And just when he was about to give up and leave, the door opened, with a Gwyn with tear stains on her cheek.

Azriel suddenly got worried, forgetting all about his nightmare, cause he saw Gwyn in that condition, and she was more important. He came in and closed the door behind him.

He cupped her cheeks and she lent into his touch, "Gwyn are you okay? " Azriel asked her, worry shown brightly in his voice and eyes. It broke his heart to see Gwyn like this.

To know that the lovable, cheerful valkyrie with a heart of gold had to fight demons which she did not deserve. And when he asked that Gwyn only shook her head frantically and sobbed.

He didn't know what to do, he wanted to save her, to rescue her from her demons, yet he was never the one for words. Gwyn's knees buckled and they bent and she was on the floor, her face in her hands.

He knew that being alone was never a good thing, and even the littlest of things were helpful during such times. So he hugged her, a bone crushing hug. He wrapped her arms around her waist and pulled her close.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she sobbed with her face in his shoulder. He started soothing her, slightly massaging her haid, playing with her strands, anything.

There was not a thing in this world which he would not do to protect Gwyn from her demons, yet, there was not a thing he could do. He didn't speak. They stayed there for a couple of minutes.

He knew that Gwyn would speak when she wanted to, and he would not force her. Soon she pulled away and looked into his eyes. Her sorrowful teal eyes pierced his soul, yet he didn't back away, didn't pull down from her gaze.

She stayed there and smiled a sad smile, a smile of gratefullness. And then she began. She told him about her nightmare, and Azriel stayed quiet, never interrupting her.

Cause his own senses had failed him. They had got the same nightmare, exactly the same. In which Azriel wasn't able to help Gwyn, in which it happened over and over again, but she didn't tell him the words she said at the end.

He knew she must have said those words in her nightmare as well, but she didn't tell him. For some reason she didn't, and Azriel respected that. And when Gwyn was finished, he felt like he needed to say the words, to tell her with a broken voice,

" Gwyn, I am always gonna come for you. I would never in my life leave you alone, I would never. I would never harm you on purpose and I will always come for you. And- and I am sorry that I was late, I am sorry that I wasn't there on time, if-if only-"

"Azriel it is not your fault. If it weren't for you, I- I don't know what would have happened. You came for me, when I thought no one would. You came for me when I thought I was alone. I would never blame you for what happened that night-"

"But"

"No buts Azriel. You saved me that night and I will forever be in your debt. But not for a single moment I will let you think that it was your fault. "

And when she stopped speaking, they just stared at each other. Azriel didn't know what to say or do. He had lived with the guilt every day of his life, the guilt of not coming sooner.

The guilt of not being able to save Gwyn before it was too late. But now in front of him, was this beautiful, strong woman, who fought her demons. And Azriel would not let her fight them alone.

And this was why he was not gonna give up their memories. He would not give up any of their memories, even to Rhys, without Gwyn's consent, not until it was a matter of life and death.

And they haf their whole lives ahead of them. 'Mated lives' azriel realized and smiled to himself. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and a lifetime was more than enough to make new memories.