Summer is heating up with this next fic. Join Gwyn and Elain as they embark on a holiday full of sun, sea, and sex⊠oh, and family secrets, undiscovered powers, and one tiny little abduction.
Enjoy the adventure! And remember to stay hydrated!
Hot Girl Summer
by SadieGirl2021
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE
Gwyn had it bad. She was hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with her best friend. No, not Nesta. Azriel!
A few months ago, she hardly considered him a friend, and now her thoughts were consumed by him day and night. Since Solstice, he had dedicated countless hours to training her, both with the group and privately.
When they had emerged from the Blood Rite, he had been beside himself, vowing to ensure she was fully equipped to handle any male who ever bothered her again.
He'd gifted her numerous daggers and spy tools, like poisonous hairpins and lock-picking brooches. His concern for her bordered on adorable, yet it was also bewildering.
He had never given any indication that he saw her as more than a friend, even though passersby often commented on what a beautiful couple they made during their trips to Velaris city centre, her 'leave the library one-day' training.
Instead of correcting them, he would graciously thank them and flash a charming smile. When she'd asked him why he didn't set the record straight, he'd simply reply that it was advantageous if people thought they were together because no one would dare lay a hand on a female associated with the Shadowsinger. She should have been offended by his audacity, but she couldn't help but love it and secretly wished it were true.
Seeking advice from Nesta and Emerie on how to approach Azriel about her feelings hadn't helped. Nesta suggested she just get naked and join him in his bed, and Emerie thought a long, deep emotional talk would be better. Neither of those options was very appealing, well, maybe option one!
She was grateful for their guidance, but she was terrified she'd ruin her friendship with him if she took either of those steps. She wanted to know how he felt first, and he was giving no clues.
So, months had passed with her hopelessly in love and him utterly clueless. She tried to up her flirting, small touches here and there, making him laugh, playing with his shadows, and still nothing! She felt like she was teetering on the edge of an emotional breakdown. It was all too much; she was feeling too much. She needed to get away, clear her head, find her balance again.
But the idea of venturing to another court alone was terrifying. Nesta and Emerie would never let her go either, and Azriel would probably spy on her from a distance.
She'd seen how protective they were of Elain, and she would have been shocked if they didn't extend the same vigilance to her.
But if the opportunity arose, she knew she would jump at it without hesitation. Well, perhaps with a little hesitation. Maybe Rhysand and Feyre would have a mission for her someday, and trust she could do it alone.
She shook away her thoughts. Nesta and Cassian were getting ready to cut their cake and head off on their âhoneymoonâ, as Nesta had called it.
She moved to join everyone as they all cheered and bid them farewell. Cassian was already holding Nesta a little closer to him, fighting off the urge to growl. She laughed at the thought of what Feyre would say about that. Sensitive, Illyrian babies!
Once they had set off, sheâd wasted no time grabbing a giant piece of cake and went to sit down. Azriel had excused himself to talk to Rhys and Feyre. Mor and Emerie had disappeared to a dark corner somewhere!
"Mind if I join you?" Gwyn looked up to see Elain smiling politely, pointing to the empty chair beside her.
"Of course. Please, sit."
Gwyn couldnât help her fleeting glances in Azriel's direction as she ate her cake.
"He's devastatingly handsome, isn't he? It hardly seems fair."
Gwyn couldn't help but smile at that, turning to Elain. "He's the most beautiful male I've ever seen."
"Have you told him how you feel?"
Gwyn laughed. "See something, did you?â she raised one eyebrow at Elain.
She only made a zip gesture across her lips and winked.
Gwyn smiled and gestured to Elain to have some of her cake, handing her a fork. They made quick work of it.
"How are you holding up today, by the way? I can imagine itâs been challenging for you. I noticed Lucien is still keeping his distance, so I guess weâre still not talking to him" Gwyn asked, dabbing a napkin on her lips. She and Elain often had talks during family dinners over the last few months. Sheâd opened up a little about her past, and Elain had offered the same to her, especially the situation with Lucien and the unaccepted bond.
"Very observant!â Elain laughed, taking a second to consider what to say next, how truthful to be. âIt's tough. Another sister mated, another happy ending and I'm just...I don't know what I'm doing. Nothing⊠Iâm doing nothing."
Gwyn sighed, "I know how you feel. Thereâs a whole world out there, and Iâm hiding in a library, hiding my feelings. Just hiding." A silence stretched between them again.
Elain broke it. "Tarquin invited me to spend some time at the Summer Court."
Gwyn's eyes widened with excitement for her. "Wow Elain, that sounds amazing! Are you considering it?"
Elain couldnât match her enthusiasm, "I don't have anyone to go with. Feyre has Nyx, Nesta is off on her honeymoon, the twins have workâŠthereâs no one to go with."
Gwyn watched Elain, she could feel her pain like it was her own. Which is why she surprised herself with what she said next. "What if I went with you?"
Elain eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously?"
Gwyn nodded, "I think so, yes! Maybe this is just what we both need. And, Iâd love to get to know you more. Nesta speaks so highly of you!â
Elain's gratitude overflowed as she squeezed Gwyn's hand affectionately. "Gwyn, thank you. I promise, with all my heart, that I'll keep you safe if you decide to come with me. Nesta sees you as her sister, and I will look out for you just the same."
Gwyn couldn't help but chuckle at Elain's declaration. "So dramatic, all you Archeron women."
With matching smiles, it seemed a decision had been made.
But Elain sought confirmation, "So, we're doing this?"
Gwyn tapped her fingers against the table, glancing over to Azriel. Maybe some distance from her would spring him into action, or his inaction would give her the answer she didnât want. Either way, it was better than sitting around, waiting. "Yes, let's go to Summer!"
Elainâs excitement bubbled over as she pulled Gwyn in for a heartfelt hug, squealing in excitement. She hadnât failed to notice Lucien and Azriel now staring in their direction, wondering what all the commotion was about.
"When should we leave?" Elain asked.
Gwyn contemplated for a moment. "Well, training is on hold while Nesta and Cassian are away, so why not set off the day after tomorrow? That will give us time to pack and get our affairs in order." Once again, Gwynâs eyes shifted to Azriel. His shadows were now whispering in his ear, no doubt filling him in on their plan.
"Perfect! I'll let Tarquin and Rhys know right now! Let's meet at the River House tomorrow evening. You can stay the night, and we can leave from there first thing the following day. Does that work for you?"
Gwyn attempted to match Elain's enthusiasm while suppressing her creeping doubts. "Sounds perfect," she said with a forced smile, wondering if this was actually a wise choice or stupidly impulsive.
Before she could get a chance to express such feelings, Elain practically leapt out of her chair and ran towards the High Lords, buzzing with excitement. She guessed there was no turning back now; they were heading on a summer adventure!
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
This month, Elucien Week 2026 will be running from July 16th to July 22nd. As a fun way to hype up another wonderful ship, we will be suggesting fanfics that explore both Gwynriel & Elucien this month.
First up is a tandem read! Because what's better than one fic? TWO!
A Court of Shadows
by ALDBooks
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE
Full night had descended over Velaris, blanketing the sky in a soft velvety black, strewn with sparking stars. The aurora that was most active this time of year had just begun it's dance of light across the sky, waves of green, purple, teal and magenta blending together as the Shadowsinger stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, hands in his pockets and head tilted back.
"Where the bloody hell are you, priestess?" he grumbled as another cloud of air puffed in front of his face. He was meant to escort Gwyn to Rhysand's house for dinner where everyone else was already waiting and she was supposed to have met him here twenty minutes ago.
Mor had taken Emerie shopping that morning and they'd gone straight to the River House afterward. Nesta had gone to help watch Nyx while Cassian and Feyre decorated the house and Elain helped the twins in the kitchen. He had no idea what Rhys had been doing all day while Azriel had been writing reports and preparing for the holiday, but it was freezing out here and he'd much rather be by his brother's fire, enjoying his booze.
It was the first time that someone outside of their circle had been invited to join them for Solstice dinner and he knew Gwyn had been nervous. She'd been talking his ear off all week about what she should wear, and whether she was expected to bring gifts. He'd done his best to assure her that no one would care what she wore, and no one expected her to bring gifts unless she wanted to, but he knew she fretted about it anyway. That was who Gwyn was.
His fingers brushed the velvet box in his pocket and he wondered again what had possessed him to purchase the gift when he'd seen it in a shop window a few days ago. Though, he supposed that wasn't entirely true. He knew why he'd bought it. He just wouldn't be admitting it outloud to anyone. Particularly to the gift's recipient.
Just then, as he was about to head down to the library and drag the priestess out no matter what she was wearing, he felt his shadows still, their attention drawn behind him. He didn't need to look to know who was there. Finally. "Took you long enough, Berdara..." His words died on his tongue as he turned and beheld the vision walking towards him.
Gwyn had chosen a simple, dark blue velvet dress that accentuated the copper tones in her hair which had been swept up into a braid that wrapped around her head like a crown, soft tendrils curling near her temples. Little sprigs of holly had been woven between the plaits, and her pale, freckled skin seemed to glow. He realized his mouth had dropped open a bit and snapped it shut, clearing his throat.
"You look- nice." Nice? Is that the best you can do? his shadows seemed to hiss at him as they offered other adjectives he might have used instead. Breathtaking. Exquisite. Stunning. Gorgeous. Ethereal. He mentally waved them off as Gwyn stopped before him, her gaze moving over him in a way that made his blood warm.Â
"You clean up rather well yourself, Shadowsinger." She smiled and he suddenly had the insane urge to flare his wings out the way a peacock might show it's feathers. What is wrong with you? Delirium, he decided. She'd made him wait so long he was starving.Â
"Ready?" she asked, gathering her skirt in one hand and stepping to his side so he could pick her up. He noticed the small satchel she carried and realized she must have decided to bring some gifts after all. He was curious what she'd gotten as he couldn't recall her actually going shopping in the last few days.
She'd made great progress over the last year, particularly after the battle with Koschei in the summer. It seemed, after yet another brush with death, the priestess had decided life was too short to be afraid of something so 'trivial' as leaving the safety of the Library and had begun joining her friends somewhat regularly in the city for lunch or a night out.
He'd had the pleasure of escorting her more than once, which was indeed a pleasure as he hadn't known many without wings who seemed to take as much joy in flying as she did. He smirked as he scooped her up, readjusting so he could carry her comfortably. "I was the one waiting for you, remember?"
She waved a hand dismissively, wrapping her arms around his neck as he approached the edge of the balcony and stretched his wings. "Nuance. Let's go, I'm starving."
He chuckled. "Dinner isn't for an hour," he said as he launched into the air without warning. She threw her head back, letting out a sound of pure delight as they streaked high into the air before he flattened out his wings and they began soaring towards the city.Â
"Drinks then," she said, still laughing breathlessly. "I hear the High Lord has quite the wine collection."
"Indeed," he grinned. "I see how it is. You only want to hang out with us for the alcohol."
A careless shrug. "There are perks to being friends with the High Lady's sister."
He laughed, beginning their descent towards the River House in the heart of the city. They flew through the wards Rhysand had erected around the property and landed on the terrace just outside the doors to the living room. He set her gently on the ground and his shadows took the opportunity to dart out, playing with her hair as they gently pushed the pieces of Holly that had come loose during the flight back into her braid.Â
Behave, he hissed at them, but Gwyn just smiled. "Hello," she said to them, lifting her hand to pat her hair, checking it was all in place. "Thank you." His shadows swirled happily as they settled back on his shoulders.
"Shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the door. He opened it as she nodded and stepped past him into the house. Mor's cackling laughter spilled out and his gaze darted to where she leaned against Emerie's shoulder, laughing at some story Cassian was telling while his mate shook her head with a small smile.
The Illyrian female was grinning, face flushed as she sipped a glass of wine and darted glances at the golden beauty beside her. He'd expected to be, at the very least, jealous when Mor had begun showing a marked interest in the pretty Valkyrie last summer but Azriel had been somewhat surprised to find he was quite at peace with it. He was happy that Mor was happy, and that was enough. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd finally moved on from her, probably sometime around when he'd begun thinking of his High Lady's sister instead, but he'd been more than happy to close that chapter of his life.
Thinking of Elain, he spotted her in the corner of the room, secluded from the merriment, though she watched with a fond smile. She was dressed in a deep red gown that flattered her coloring much more than the dark blues and blacks she often selected for formal events. Despite this, she still looked... not well.Â
They'd all noticed how she'd begun withdrawing back into herself over the last year. She was by no means as destructive and angry as her older sister had once been, but she was clearly unhappy. Even if she did still smile and work in her garden and play with her nephew. That seemed to be all she did. She rarely ventured outside the house anymore according to Feyre and they were all worried about her, though no one seemed to know what to do for her.
Nesta's behavior had been much easier to deal with as she was lashing out and hurting not only herself but everyone around her, whereas Elain seemed content but also seemed to be barely present anymore. At least she was not consumed by her visions as she'd been when she'd first arrived in Prythian. No one was even sure if she still had visions at all. Still, they were all at a loss for how to help her, though Azriel had an idea where they might begin.Â
He'd been reluctant to admit it at first, but Elain's decline had begun with the seemingly indefinite departure of her mate. Rather than celebrating his absence as he'd expected to, as he'd expected her to, Azriel had instead felt guilty, while Elain had begun to pull away from everyone.
Rhys had been right. He'd had no business inserting himself between a mated couple who had come to no resolution on their own relationship. Whether she chose to reject the bond or not, Elain had not yet been free to become involved with anyone else. He couldn't say for certain if what had happened last Solstice had in fact precipitated the lordling's decision to leave, but Azriel didn't believe in coincidence. He was, however, disappointed that Lucien hadn't decided to stay and fight as they'd expected.
Shrieking laughter brought his attention back to the room, shaking off thoughts that were better left alone. Feyre had brought Nyx down from the nursery and he was now attempting to waddle his way across the carpet towards his father. Next to him, he saw Gwyn, the apparent source of Nyx's laughter as she crouched behind Rhys' shoulder making silly faces.
She changed her expression which caused the boy to laugh so hard he fell backwards on his bum, little wings flapping in a desperate attempt to keep him upright. Rhys looked over his shoulder, seeming to just notice the source of his son's distraction and glared goodnaturedly at her. She straightened quickly, plastering on an innocent smile.
"So glad you could join us, priestess," Rhysand said dryly. Behind him, Nyx climbed to his feet again crying 'Wyn! Wyn!' The little High Lord had become smitten with Gwyn the first time they met, and both Rhys and Feyre had (not so jokingly) begged her more than once to become his part time nanny.Â
Gwyn ignored Rhysand as she stepped beside his seat and knelt down to greet Nyx properly. "Hello sweetling," she cooed. Nyx wobbled his way over and into her arms where she rewarded him with a loud kiss on the cheek before handing him off to Rhys. "My Lord. Happy Solstice."
Even as he settled into his father's arms, Nyx stared adoringly at Gwyn. Rhys shook his head as he smiled ruefully. "Good evening, Gwyneth. Happy Solstice."
The rest of the room, having now noticed their presence, exchanged greetings as he and Gwyn were ushered into the room and handed drinks. Gwyn sat next to Mor and Emerie while Azriel took a vacant chair next to where Cassian and Nesta sat. As conversation resumed, he found his gaze moving back towards Gwyn repeatedly while absently rubbing at his chest.Â
When he'd seen her with Nyx just now, he'd sworn he'd felt something tug at him which, of course, made no sense. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her interact with his nephew, and even so why should he feel anything about it?
He'd never given much thought to children beyond the vague idea that he might have them someday. If he ever found his mate. Day by day though, that possibility seemed less likely and he sometimes wondered if he might not be happier settling for the kind of casual relationships he'd had in the past. He was no saint, to be sure. The last five hundred years would have been very miserable indeed if he didn't occasionally seek out companionship, even as he pined over another. It had been some time though, since he'd been with anyone... Perhaps it was time to do so again. Perhaps even on a more long term basis...
Dinner was called while he silently mused over this. "Wake up, Shadowsinger," Amren said as she passed on Varian's arm. "Your services are needed."
Azriel glanced up from the glass of whiskey he'd been contemplating to find both Gwyn and Elain hovering somewhat awkwardly near the back of the group as Feyre and Nesta were escorted by their mates into dinner and Amren by Varian with Mor and Emrie following, arm in arm.
Jumping to his feet, he cleared his throat and offered them each an arm. "Ladies."
Dinner was as chaotic as always, especially now that they had two additional guests, with dishes being passed every which way and five different conversations competing with each other for volume. Azriel sat right in the middle of it all, Elain on one side, quietly pushing her food around as she observed everyone else, Gwyn on the other, having a spirited debate with Rhysand about some book or other.Â
"That did not happen," Rhysand insisted, pointing his fork at the priestess. "I've read the book, I would remember."
"As have I, probably much more recently than you."
Rhys narrowed his eyes. "Are you calling me old?"
"I'm saying, perhaps my memory is a bit fresher. Sometimes we don't recall details with clarity over time, especially if we've read other stories in the meantime."
"Very diplomatic of you, Gwyneth," Rhys nodded with approval.
The priestess bowed her head graciously while Rhys' eyes glittered with amusement. Much like his son, he'd also taken a liking to Gwyn almost immediately. She seemed to have an innate ability to charm anyone she met, putting them at ease and making them feel seen. He wasn't sure how else she'd managed to befriend Nesta, having met her near the bottom of her downward spiral. She'd even managed to befriend Elain and was the only one he'd seen make the middle Archeron sister truly smile in months.
Azriel turned and asked Elain how her garden was coming along, feeling awkward when he realized he couldn't remember the name of the plant she'd last told him about that she'd been attempting to cultivate. Her response was short, but polite, nothing like the usual rambling answers she used to give when she'd go on and on for a near quarter of an hour about whatever her latest project was.Â
He watched as her gaze moved around the table, between each of the paired off guests, particularly her mated sisters and noted the flash of sadness on her face. Rather than jealousy, he felt pity and sympathy for her and realized Mor was not the only one he'd moved on from. Wherever Lucien had ended up spending his Solstice, he hoped the idiot returned soon to reclaim his mate.
The Story Continues on Ao3
Tandem read A Court of Light from the end of Chapter Three
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
Frustrated? Angry? Shaking your fists at The Mother herself because we don't have any titles or covers???
Well, don't give up hope just yet!!
Not only do we have a really good feeling about July ;)... but we also have two fun fics to entertain you this week!
I Think I Kissed Az Last Night &
Drunk in the Wrong Bedroom
by lady_riel
THE DRABBLE I THINK I KISSED AZ LAST NIGHT IS BASED ON
Gwyn: I think I kissed Az last night.
Nesta: *double takes* WHAT
Gwyn: I meant to kiss him on the cheek but then there was some kind of mix-up and instead I kissed him on the lips.
Nesta: And what happened then?!
Gwyn:
Gwyn:
Gwyn: We might have kissed some more.
The Story Continues on Ao3
TEASER FOR DRUNK IN THE WRONG BEDROOM
âWhatââ she hiccuped again ââare you doing in my bed?â
Azrielâs brows rose. âThis is my bed.â
âThen what is your bed doing in my room?â she demanded. Her effort at imperiousness was ruined by the hiccups that punctuated the question.
Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. âGwyneth. This is my room.â
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
I'm suffering in a heatwave, and my brain has turned to mush.
So, Dragons.
A Mythical Thing
by Separatist_Apologist
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE
Gwyneth Berdara had always been warned not to walk the woods. Not alone and especially not at night. It was a warning sheâd heeded her entire life given that terrible, lurking beast had a taste for the flesh of maidens. As a priestess, Gwyn was expected to never take a lover, to never know the touch of a man. It made them all nervous that one day the monster might realize the temple at the edge of the realm was filled with nothing but maidens.Â
A veritable feast to be had.
But then he was found, paraded back into the city with a massive chain around his throat. Gwyn had watched, hidden beneath her hood. Sheâd expected a terrifying, scaled beastâŠnot a man in irons walking to his death. They said heâd defiled the last woman, had impregnated her. Gwyn heard the rumors that the woman had liked him, that the two were in love.
Sheâd seen the agony on that man's face when Lord Nolan taunted him before everyone that theyâd find the missing woman. That theyâd drag her back and remove the creature living in her body. How heâd remained utterly still, dressed only in a pair of loose fitting pants. His body was so strangely scaled in shimmering orange and gold, his eyes the oddest color of red and brown.Â
Gwyn liked to think she knew what love looked like. Nolan was devoid of it.
The monster was filled with it.
And that night, Gwyn decided to take the first walk sheâd ever had outside the walls of the temple. Moonlight peeked through the snaking tree branches overhead, devoid of their usual greenery as winter approached. Gwyn went too far that first night, drunk on her own success. The monster loved the woman theyâd sent him and, to hear it told, had released the rest.
Perhaps the only monsters were just the trees and this shifting, slipping shadows. It had been those grappling, creaking hands that tore at her cloak. The shredding material sent her running back for the walls, heart pounding desperately in her ears when she slammed the gate loudly behind her.
Tendrils of night seemed to drape themselves around her, curling gently against her moon pale skin. She turned her head, a friendly breeze ruffling the copper brown of her hair until it was pushed into her eyes. There was nothing out there but the men from the city, hunting down a terrified, pregnant woman. Gwyn wondered what it was like, to be so sure of something youâd turn your back on your entire way of life just to keep it.
And with a breathy sigh, she walked back to the arching silver doors of the temple. No one was awake save for her. Everyone else was a creature of the light the way their Mother Goddess demanded. Gwyn had tried. For fifteen years, sheâd tried so desperately to be what was expected of her. Gwyn suspected she was the outcast because of the circumstances that had seen her dumped on the doorstep of the temple.
Living alone with just her sister had painted targets on their backs. Catrin had fought back but GwynâŠGwyn had allowed those men to touch her, to do whatever they wanted while she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed it would all be over soon. That she would get through it. Too late and too often, Gwyn wondered if sheâd fought back if those men would have let her join her sister.
Catrin was buried at the base of the mountains in the village sheâd grown up in. Sheâd been given a proper burial by a populace more willing to mourn a dead, martyred woman than the very real living one who was now alone. The men were never punished but Gwyn was.Â
Sheâd been little more than a child, and yet sheâd heard the way the older women spoke about her and Catrin. Women. Seductresses. Temptress.Â
Sheâd been thirteen.
Gwyn sighed, taking the steps up the winding tower to her bedroom. If the other priestesses had experienced anything similar, theyâd never said. Everyone knew about her. She was safe, if that monster ever invaded but Gwyn liked to think that the creature could tell the difference between willingly handing something over and having it stolen from you. Even before sheâd learned he was only a man, Gwyn had thought he might kill her, too.
That she could join Catrin and find some measure of peace.
Belonging.Â
Gwyn went out the second night and then the third. She considered, tramping against the dead, rotting leaves that were damp from the rain theyâd gotten that morning. The earthen smell of autumn warred with approaching winter while that teasing wind greeted her with another playful ruffle of her hair. Gwynâs steps were bouncy as she basked in the waning moonlight. There was no one out here to admonish, to call her Gwyneth in that disapproving tone.
Gwyneth, donât sing while you do your chores
Gwyneth, why are you smiling during service?Â
Gwyneth, where are the scrolls I asked you forâ
She grinned now, face tilted towards the sky. Opening her mouth, Gwyn sang the same song from that morning without worrying someone might overhear. Only the trees would witness her. She felt free, untethered and unbound.Â
Happy, without that usual guilt that she shouldnât, that she was betraying Catrin somehow, by finding joy when her sister could not. Out here, it was easy to hear Catrins voice urging her to indulge a little. Catrin had always been like that. Gwyn had been studiousâserious, given how absent their mother wasâand Catrin had been fun. In her darker moments, she often thought it was a tragedy sheâd survived and Catrin had not.
Catrin wouldnât have stayed in the temple. She would have done something. She would have figured out how to move on, to keep laughing, smilingâ living. Gwynâs voice softened, her emotion threatening to overwhelm her. The song changed to a familiar tune sung often in the villages.
Catrinâs favorite.Â
Gwynâs steps took on a life of their own, pulling her towards a denser patch of trees where even shadows couldnât penetrate. She went, if only to prove to herself that she could. That some small, tiny part of her wasnât scared. There was nothing, she told herself. Only the dark, only night.Â
A soft snuffling stopped her the second she was enveloped. The leaves beneath her feet shifted as though something heavy dragged over them. All at once her singing died, her body utterly rooted into place.
âHello?â she whispered. Silence was the only sound save for the soft, panting breath. She wasnât alone anymore. Gwyn didnât move, afraid if she turned and ran the thing would give chase.Â
Wide eyes cut through the dark, hazel and as bright as stars. She had a sense of this beast now, of the creatureâs unfolding wings that made him sing twice as big as the forest itself. He raised himself upwards, tail sliding closer towards her. Gwynâs heart was in her throat.
Sheâd been warned, hadnât she?Â
Gwyn opened her mouth to scream, turning to run. The monster grabbed her, pulling her close against his warm, dark scales. His wings extended even further, betraying the sheer size of him as a thing so big it didnât seem possible heâd ever been able to hide here. As he took to the air, Gwyn noticed his scales seemed to shift the most peculiar shade of wintry blue. She reached out one trembling, terrified hand and touched.
He bellowed in response, a ring of fire igniting the world beneath them. She exhaled a breath.
And if she drew another, she didnât know.Â
Darkness overtook her, dragging her into the blackened abyss.Â
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
Okay, Sarah!! We're done waiting for titles/covers! Can you please drop them this week and stop guarding them like state secrets?!
At least we have so many amazing Gwynriel fics to keep us entertained! đ
Playing with Propriety
by Sunshinebingo
TEASER
On the summer of 1813, sitting in the large library of Rosehall manor with her head pressed against the window while it rained cats and dogs outside, Gwyneth Berdara pondered. There was nothing unusual in the fact that she was partaking in the act itself. What was odd, however, was the subject that seemed to have taken her mind hostage to the point where she felt so restless that she had to leave the comfortable bed of the guest room that she had been assigned for the duration of her stay. She didnât know why she was thinking about this so much but she knew that it was the novel she had been reading for the past day that had triggered the thoughts that had gotten her out of bed in the middle of the night, when the air inside the manor was so still that even the place seemed deep in sleep.
She opened the window just enough to let some air in. The flame of the candle that sat on the cherry wood table behind moved more wildly but did not snuff out. Gwyn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as the cool breeze caressed her heated cheeks and blew her unbound hair away from her face. For a moment, the smell of rain and trees brought her 18 years back, to her childhood bedroom painted in soft blues and white â similar colours to her current room in London â where she had often sat by the window just like tonight to read or to simply stare at the beauty that was Ireland in Spring, or any season really. 18 years and she still missed the air of the country enough to revel in it every chance she got. Rosehall reminded her of how much she loved the greens and the outside; walking bare feet in the grass, swimming in a lake or a river somewhere no one could see, the freedom, the quiet and peace.
Gwyn had been 10 years old when her family had left Ireland to settle in England after her fatherâs death from an illness a few months prior. It had been at her brotherâs request that the Lady Berdara, formerly Miss Vanserra, and her two daughters had moved to London where the rest of her family still resided. Gwyn had been in awe of London even before their carriage had stopped before the grand house that had already been prepared for them. The streets had been busy with the comings and goings of everyone who had already left their country estate to come to the city for the marriage season. Everything was so different.
While her twin, Catrin, had run straight to her new bedroom, Gwyn had sneaked out that day past the trunks and boxes filled with their belongings that were being moved into their new house to explore the outside. The green of the grass had reminded her of the hills that she saw every day from their manor back home. She knew that the garden, no matter how pretty it was, would not replace the view she had there. It was too confined with its tall hedges and limited space to run around. There were not enough big trees that she could climb and sit in to read quietly.
However, one thing had made the garden and life in London much better than Gwyn could have imagined. It had started with the â rather loud â whispered voices she had heard and who were wondering who she was. She had soon found out, after peering her head through the hole in the hedge through which they had been trying to see her, that the voices belonged to her neighbours, Nesta Archeron and Emerie Windhaven and that the latterâs house was right in the middle of hers and Nestaâs. Their friendship had started when Emerie had pointed out that she didnât understand half of the words that Gwyn had said when she introduced herself and had wondered why they were being so nosy. Gwyn had laughed which had then sent the three girls into a fit of giggles. Although she had lost the thick Irish accent she had when she left her home country, it was still evident today to anyone with ears that she was not born in England â if the fact that she had coppery-reddish hair was not clue enough that is.
Till this day, there were still barely concealed holes in the hedges surrounding the girlsâ houses that they had used to visit each other. Although Gwyn and Em didnât use Nestaâs one since the day she had eloped to marry Cassian, the man she had hated and loved so fiercely. She had a feeling that the one between hers and Emerieâs house would not be in use for much longer either. Gwyn knew that Emerie was close to saying hang society and run away from her home too. That house wasnât her friendâs home anyway. Emerieâs home was wherever Morrigan was, regardless of what their families had to say. And currently, it was at Rosehall Manor where itâs Lord, the Earl himself, had invited his brothers and closest friends to spend the summer with him.
âWhat are you doing?â
As though the mere thought of him was enough to summon him, Gwynâs musings were interrupted by his warm and rich voice. He sounded like he had just come out of bed. By the look of it when she turned her head to the left, she assumed that he probably did. Azriel stood barefoot at the door, his hair looking as though he had fought with a harsh wind. He wore what seemed to be his sleeping pants and a white shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. She knew it wasnât proper to stare, but she couldnât bring her eyes to look away when the single candle in the room was illuminating his tanned skin in that subtle way and making his hazel eyes glow in such a beautiful way.
Azriel followed the direction of her gaze and looked down. Gwyn blushed, looking away and closing her mouth that she hadnât known was open like a dead fish, when she realised that he had noticed where her eyes had been lingering. He huffed a small laugh before bringing his hands to his chest to button his shirt up.
Azriel cleared his throat. âI didnât mean to intrude on your quiet time, Miss Berdara.â
The Story Continues on Ao3
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We've reached another milestone! Only 20 weeks left đ And at last, Bloomsbury have kicked off promotions with a Valkyrie Event!!
To keep the Valkyrie theme running, here's a great reincarnation fic.
Gwyn discovers letters that detail the life of one of the original Valkyries, or rather 'Battle Maidens' as they were once known.
Why does Gwyn sympathise so much with the female writing the letters?
And why is Azriel suddenly so interested in her research?
Battle Maidens
by loveL
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE
For Gwyn, the hardest thing about being a Valkyrie wasn't the relentless training. It wasn't waking up before sunrise every morning with muscles still throbbing from the day before, no for Gwyn it was the endless onslaught of deja vu.
Now, as she watched Nesta face that fluttering ribbon, the deja vu was the strongest. Her own cut ribbon itched around her forehead where Nesta had just tied it but she wouldn't dare touch it, she wouldn't even breathe too hard because this was important the world was still as Nesta raised her sword.
Still apart from the breeze teasing that ribbon. Still, apart from the slight shift of Azriel behind her he barely moved but it was enough for him to assert his presence at her back, enough for her to feel the steadiness of him behind her.
Enough for the deja vu to knock her over.
Except⊠last time she'd leaned back, rested her head on his shoulder and he'd laced her fingers through his. He'd put his lips to her ear and whispered something that had caused her heart to break just a little bit.
The last time they had been closer, they'd been far away from here on a land that was now underwater. They'd been in different bodies, their tongues had stretched around a different language, and the only thing that was the same was their souls. Neither of them remembered those fine details though.
Gwyn wanted to lean back now, to tilt her head and whisper in his ear with an irreverent sigh, a hint of melancholy and a fistful of reminiscence "Do you remember the last time we did this?"
She didn't do any of that though, the words were at the back of her throat lost somewhere because she didn't remember the last time they did this. Not really. A part of her soul remembered though, a part that hadn't quite been scrubbed clean the way it ought to.
Emerie let out a loud whoop suddenly, dragging Gwyn's attention back to the present and away from a sunken land and a ribbon tied to a blessed tree.
Emerie was the first to embrace Nesta but Gwyn was the one to tie the ribbon around her brow and proclaim "Valkyrie" for the whole world to hear. She wanted the Mother to know, she wanted the long-dead Valkyries to know that they were not forgotten that they were back and Nesta was now one of them.
Their numbers officially three.
The morning quickly faded and Cassian volunteered to take Emerie home while Nesta angrily grumbled about Cassian avoiding her. Gwyn listened and tried to comfort her for as long as she could, she did feel for her friend truly but Gwyn had work to get to and Cassian and Nesta would make up. Merrill however was not so forgivingâŠ
She escaped to the library with a promise to Nesta that they would talk more tomorrow and barely made it to Merrill's office in time to collect the manuscripts that needed re-shelving and the texts that needed translating and ordering.
It was busy work really, Gwyn was capable of handling much more, this was all rather tedious, Merrill could translate the texts on her own probably a lot faster than Gwyn could she just didn't want to. She didn't mind so much though at least these texts were interesting, they were about the very first Valkyrie.
The first ever Valkyries had called themselves the Battle Maidens. Gwyn preferred Valkyrie though.
The Battle Maidens had been formed under the order of one of the High Lords or kings (the texts were still unclear as to who) the king had tasked his wife with finding females fit for the job. His soft wife hadn't a clue of where to even start so she'd turned to her bodyguard (who Gwyn also believed might have been her lover) for help.
Her name had been Thean and she'd taken forming a group of warrior females very seriously.Â
The Battle Maidens were never supposed to become the force that they did. The king had thrown the task at his wife to give her something to do while he had his affairs; he could never have anticipated the force that the Valkyrie would one day become.
Gwyn was careful as she unrolled the thick parchment, she knew it must be ancient by the scent of the paper alone, if Merrills notes were any indication this scroll was at least 1600 years old. It wasn't the oldest text she'd handled but it was by far the most interesting.
Her understanding of the old tongue was less practised than she'd like but she knew enough to translate any text given time. Thankfully this handwriting was legible unlike some of the other texts she'd read.
Dear Rina,Â
The world stood still today and you were not by my side.Â
Norah did it. She cut the ribbon. I can't believe she's already in her 19th year. They said she's the youngest Battle maiden to date. I wish you were here. I miss youâŠ
~~~
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
Not only did this author bless us with over 100k+ words from Azriel's POV, but she also gave us a little something extra with a whole fic from Gwyn's!
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On My Radar (Azriel's POV) & In the Name of Science (Gwyn's POV)
by VikingMagic_33
Artwork by artofseda
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE OF ON MY RADAR
Azriel lifted his gaze only briefly from the sparring match unfolding before him. The shadows had been restless all morning. He spared only a moment to scan the ring. Just like everyone out there, Azriel had been watching Gwyn and Cassian slugging it out in the noon sun for the better part of the last hour. She was advancing at an impressive rate. It was remarkable. She was remarkable.
The Valkyrie before him barely resembled the brutalized priestess from Sangravah. He knew enough about trauma to know that the girl who he'd wrapped carefully in his cloak would always be in there somewhere. Just as he would always be the boy in the cage, hands aflame. And yet, he had watched her so closely these years. She had honed her craft, forged herself into something stronger, something nearly indestructible. Or so he hoped.
If you are done gawking, Lady Death is alone.
Azriel rolled his eyes at their intrusion. The shadows knew he'd planned to speak with Nesta and had spotted her leaning against the water station. His eyes found her quickly enough in another darting glance around the ring. She was gulping down water despite his repeated warnings to go slowly. Sweat dripped from her face, evidence of a particularly grueling morning session. She also watched the match intently, smiling as Gwyn executed a perfect defensive roll along the mat, away from a confused Cassian.
The shadows were correct. It was the perfect time to speak to Nesta. He needed to make some sort of progress on his newest mission to give it a real chance at success. What annoyed him was the shadows and their growing impertinence where Gwyn was concerned.
The basics of this mission had sparked in his chest way back at Solstice and had been increasingly occupying his every waking thought. He would have to be strategic and stealthy. Nesta, of everyone, couldn't suspect a plan in play.
Lady Death is quite observant.
I know.
She already suspects your plotting. Her eyes track you. Her brow is furrowed.
You see that I'm looking right at her, right? I can see her face. I know what it means.
They always did that. The shadows enjoyed imparting fairly obvious or arguably useless facts directly into his mind. It could be annoying and distracting. They shared information either verbally or on a more intuitive level, but it was nearly always inexorably woven in with nuggets of utter inanity.
Unfortunately, most of their intel was undeniably vital.
Azriel knew that people considered him quiet and aloof. How much of that was his natural personality and how much was necessity? He would never be able to guess after so many centuries. What he did know was that his life was rarely quiet. The shadows constantly peppered him with observations.
They had many different voices. Although Azriel had never detected distinct personalities, nor had he recognized a singular voice from one interaction to the next. The group of voices grew and shrank based on want and need. Some sounded older and those thankfully seemed to be more discerning in their interjections. Some sounded younger, eager, and somewhat random in their statements. They knew him and he knew them.
Sometimes he just became aware of a fact because they wanted him to know it. It had gotten better over the centuries. He had gotten better. Better at maintaining a conversation despite the incessant, underlying din in his head. If they had calmed, so had he. Initially, he could barely complete a sentence without losing his train of thought. Illyrians called him deranged, and maybe he was back then. Now, he'd grown accustomed to skirting conversations and lurking on the edge of social gatherings to make it less noticeable.
Elain had noticed though. She thought he suffered from headaches. He didnât have the heart to correct her. If she had learned more about what it meant to be Illyrian or High Fae, she would have known that he doesn't suffer much in the way of physical ailments or chronic pain. She was right that he did rub his temples. It was a way to ease the stress from the constant barrage of information that the shadows compounded onto his already heightened senses.
Azriel had always been uniquely able to track the shift in scents as emotions ebbed and flowed across a crowded room. He heard bits of conversation across the hall or noticed the way Cassianâs left calf would rub against the chair leg because his nerves caused him to fidget as meetings dragged on. He noticed furtive glances or that an opponent favored their right side. It wasnât just in the ring. Everyone was an opponent. Everything was on his radar, constantly. It had to be. His head was a noisy and exhausting place to try to live. Forget thriving.
Elain had noticed him though. That meant something. She saw him struggle and she tried to help. That wasnât common for him. At least heâd used the headache powder for that particularly nasty hangover when Rhys dusted off the single malt as his inevitable peace offering.
Lady Death approaches. Assuming you are done feeling sorry for yourself. She saw you looking at her.
Fuck off.
Is that the legendary Shadowsinger eloquence?
I'm not considered eloquent.
Clearly.
"What's on your mind, Az?"
"Why does something have to be on my mind, Nesta? You're standing at the water station. Perhaps I'm thirsty."
"You know I'm not an idiot, correct?"
"You don't have to be an idiot to find me difficult to read."
"True, but I've got a couple things working in my favor on that front."
"As in?"
"Well, the way I see it, if Tamlin's glamor didnât work on me, whatever this play-it-cool vibe youâve got going on this morning has approximately zero chance of convincing me of anything. Also, I watched a certain redheaded priestess read you like a cheap paperback for many a moon, so perhaps Iâve picked up some tips along the way."
"She does seem particularly astute." Azriel looked back at the sparring match with something bordering on concern, if not mild panic.
"Particularly when you pique her interest." Nesta continued to watch Az, but he didnât take the bait.
"I didn't know about Tamlin's glamor. I've never actually heard of something like that before." Azriel studied her.
"Yeah. So spill. What can I do you for?" It was Nesta's turn to evade questions that even she was too afraid to ask herself.
"I think Gwyn should move out of the library, but Iâm not sure how to encourage her without interfering in something that isn't my place."
"So this IS about you being thirsty?" Azriel choked on his sip of water as Nesta continued. "Would it surprise you to know Iâve been thinking the same thing? I donât think it is interfering to encourage her, by the way. She's a grown female who will do as she pleases, as you well know. We are her close friends. All we can do is tell her the truth and support her when she needs us."
Azriel was surprised by Nestaâs encouragement and shocked to be included as one of Gwynâs close friends. Surprised to find that it was true and honored that Nesta thought so.
Lady Death is sincere. She is also correct. The Little Valkyrie is our friend. Lady Death spoke to gauge your response. Her eyes are reading your face. She is pleased that you are honored. She is sad that you doubt. She is also hungry. Lady Death needs to pee.
"So, what should we do now?"
"I'll talk to her."
"You will? Is it that simple?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"
"Do you think she will consider it?"
"I hope so. It is the right move. She's ready. She won't grow anymore where she is."
"I hope so too. She's a fascinating person. I feel invested in her journey somehow."
"You did an amazing thing when you saved her, Azriel."
"I should haveâŠ"
"Donât. You saved her that day. And, you're still saving her, in a way. It is quickly becoming my favorite thing about you, brother."
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
How is it the last Tuesday in May already? That month flew by!
And how has it been a year since our Micro-Tropes May event!!
Here's a little two-shot from me, where I tried to cram in as many micro-tropes as possible, including: "Who did this to you?", hair washing, wound care and one bed!
A Gentle Touch
by SadieGirl2021
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE
Gwyn braced herself, exhaling through her nose as she worked through the movement. Her legs already ached, but they were only halfway through.
âFifty-six,â Nesta called out.
Gwyn blew out a shaky breath. There was no way she could keep going. Four more. She could do four more. Then she was calling a time-out.
âI need to sit down,â Gwyn gasped on a breath, before dropping unceremoniously to the floor. At least she wasnât the only one struggling today â Emerie dropped down with her.
"Remind me why we do this again?" she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow.
âTo be strong,â Nesta panted as she dropped into another squat. âTo be terrifying.â Another squat.
She hadnât stopped, continuing to one hundred.
Gwyn glanced over at Cassian who was supposed to be training the new recruits, but sure enough, he was staring at his mates ass. That was all the motivation Nesta seemed to need to keep going. After five years mated, they were still playing these games with each other⊠testing the limits of who would break first.
Probably Cassian.
It was always Cassian.
Gwyn couldnât stop the smile on her face. The happiness she felt for the mated couple. But there was a pang of sadness in her, too.
Maybe she needed a male to keep her motivated. Someone to play silly games with. To tease. To loveâŠ
And on a completely unrelated note, Gwyn was suddenly remembering all too well who was missing from training.
âHey,â she said after a moment, having caught her breath. âHave you heard from Azriel? I thought he would have been back by now.â
Emerie gave her a look, brows raised, and Gwyn nudged her with her foot to quit it.
She did not have a crush on the Shadowsinger.
She was just worried about his safety when he was on dangerous missions⊠or flying a little too high⊠or walking through questionable neighbourhoods at night. But all friends worried like that. It was nothing!
Before Nesta could answer, or tease Gwyn too, Cassian had snuck over to them, no doubt fighting the urge to drag Nesta back to their room. Looking more stern than usual, though, he said, âHe wonât be joining us for a few more days.â
Gwynâs brows lifted immediately. âWhy?â
âHurt himself during the mission,â Cassian said tightly. âHe needs some time to recover.â
Gwyn stilled. Illyrians healed fast⊠why would he need time to recover?
âIs it serious?â
Cassianâs answer came a little too fast. âNo.â
He said it with certainty, but Gwyn sensed a flicker of deceit.
âHe just needs time alone,â he added.
âBut what happenedââ
âLess talking,â Cassian barked, cutting her off. Back in general mode. âMore squatting.â
Emerie groaned in protest as she got up, but Gwyn stayed still, staring up at the Lord of Bloodshed, trying her hardest to be intimidating.
âNow, Berdara! Or youâll be doing one hundred crunches after.â
Gwyn held his intense gaze for a few more moments.
Then she blinked.
He won.
With a muttered curse under her breath, she stood up and got back into formation â but she would get to the bottom of this and find out what Cassian was hiding.
As if reading her mind, he looked at her again. âLeave it, Berdara. Heâll be back in a few days.â
Reluctantly, she nodded in defeat. Maybe she was just overreacting.
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
Anyone else binge Off Campus this week and couldn't stop thinking "Wow, they are so Gwynriel coded!"
Well, one of our very own felt the same and blessed us with an incredible AU inspired by The Deal.
Let the games begin!
The Bargain
by HeadCanonHeadCase
Artwork by lemonade_doodles
SUMMARY
Azriel Moreno, Captain of the Velaris University Hockey Team, has a problem. He's failing Professor Merrill's course. Failing means no hockey, which could mess up his chances of making it to the NHL. Good thing Azriel also has a solution: Gwyneth Berdara. Smart, funny, and beautiful; she managed to get an A on the midterm when most of the class failed. And luckily for Az, Gwyn needs him too. She has a crush on Tarquin Summers, swim star at VU, but she has no idea how to get him to notice her.
When Az and Gwyn make a bargain to help each other, the last thing either of them expects is to actually become friends. But that's exactly what happens. An easy trust forms that has Gwyn and Az sharing secrets that only their closest friends know. What will happen when friendship leads to something more?
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
Have you ever wanted to read a fic where Gwyn pleasures Azriel in chapter one and then he spends the next 80% of the story spiralling into madness, trying to deny himself what he desperately wants?
Well, you are in luck!
Sit back, relax and pray to the Mother for Azriel's sanity.
Breaths of Darkness, Songs of Light
by SeaTempest
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE
The curtained windows of her cottage shuddered with a strong current of air, coming in short swipes. Her gaze shifted from her book up to the nearest window, and she furrowed. Gwyn knew Illyrian wings when she heard them.Â
Beside the armchair where she had curled up under a blanket was a hearth with a warm fire. The crackles from it remained, once again, the only sound in the spacious living room. The High Lord had been kind enough to give her her own place to stay in Velaris now that she was a valkyrie and a Carynthian. She had decided that a place of her own (that wasnât the Library) would make her happy.Â
The High Lady herself helped find a place for Gwyn. That was very touching. The Archeron sisters were nothing alike. In a good way. And she was glad to know them.
There was polite knocking on her door, and she put the book away.
Now, the Inner Circle have been visiting her a lot these last few weeks after the Blood Rite, especially the Illyrians among them. They could afford to fly over faster than the rest, she supposed. Rhys and Cassian visited often, but Azriel was⊠more sporadic. Cassian explained it was nothing personal and told her Azriel just had lots of private work to do.Â
You know how it is with the spying stuff, heâd joked.Â
She didnât; and she had also pretended not to notice Cassianâs discomfort talking about it. Nobody really knew what Azriel was doing most of the time. Ever. And none of them ever pried into it much, for centuries. That, she found a little funny. And scary.Â
Rhys had been pleasant as always when he came to visit and asked if she needed anything. But he usually left quickly. Gwyn didnât want to keep him, seeing as he had a Court to rule and a baby to coo over. He was clearly very excited about that last part, as he kept mentioning Nyx when she asked if he and the High Lady were doing alright. Â
And Cassian came visiting too often, most of the time with Nesta. Gwyn found it endearing that they both cared about her well-being in equally deep measure. Her decision to move from the Library and the House of Wind puzzled them somewhat, but they understood her desire to try something new. Taste some independence.
Azriel came too⊠once. It was a very strange visit. He did not speak much and had the look of someone who was not sure what he was doing or what he had to say. Slightly awkward, more inclining toward uncomfortable. At least, thatâs what she thought.Â
After he left, she had this even stranger hollow in her chest. And some guilt that she had not managed to keep him around for longer. Seeing him outside their training times left them without much to say, and theyâve talked through the Blood Rite subject numerous times already.Â
If she had to be honest, he always looked like he didnât wish forâor enjoy being inâanyoneâs company for too long.Â
When she wrapped the blanket around her like an overlarge shawl, Gwyn walked up to her door and opened it. Her best guess had been Cassian, or someone he had flown in, but it was not.
By the Cauldron.
Her breath left her lungs sharply at the sight of Azriel, bleeding from at least three wounds and looking at her with blank expectation. âAzriel, this is badâŠâ Gwynâs voice trembled, her eyes widening the more she took in the wounds.Â
Questions piled up rapidly in her mind. Her body jerked away to make way for him to enter. Did he plan to come inside? Why was he waiting outside her threshold if he didnât plan to enter? What was he doing here in this condition? And knocking politely? Really?
âIâm alright,â he said.
âYou are not! I should call Madja or someone who knows healing better than I,â Gwyn insisted. Then her stomach made a full somersault when he walked in and half-stumbled inside, incidentally reaching out for her support.Â
The wetness over his skinâshe realized it was blood with a moment of delayânearly made her cringe away. But she didnât.
âYou need help, â she whispered, searching for his eyes while she held his bloodied hand with both of hers. He was unexpectedly cold to the touch. Like heâd been somewhere outside in the wintry cold for hours.Â
He was the one who cringed away from her hold once he noticed they lingered in the touch for too long. Gwyn pretended not to have noticed the sharpness in the motion. âI donât⊠Iâve only recently started learning how to properly heal.â What she knew as a priestess was basic. Useless for wounds like that.
Azriel said nothing, just casually looked around the space as if wondering if his wings were too big for it. None of the rooms were that narrow, she thought, even though the ceiling was way lower than what sheâd usually seen the Inner Circle reside in. And this wasnât the House of Wind either. The overall design here aimed for coziness, not grandeur.
Cassian fit through her threshold and into her rooms without much issue. Azriel had a harder time doing it, apparently. Her stomach made another tumbleâthis time an unpleasant oneâwhen she saw several small rips through the velvet of his left wing too.Â
âCareful,â she grimaced a little, watching him enter. Blood dripped down thickly on her floor as he moved, and following him close swept in shadows like breaths of darkness. âYouâreâŠâÂ
This was madness. She closed the door and leaned back against it, palms against the wood and heart hammering in her chest.
Azriel had looked unbefitting of the spaces of her cottage before, that last time he visited. But now that he appeared without warning in a late evening hour, with all those wounds, like someone had directly winnowed him from a battlefield right in the center of her living room, she decided she might be hallucinating under a spell. Â
For some reason, he was just hanging in the middle of the room with his shoulders slumped down, half-turned away from her. Apart from the little fire-cracks, it was so densely quiet that she could hear the viscous blood plop down from his scarred hands and the sharp edges of his wings.Â
Exhausted was a mild word for what he looked like. There was barely any color in his harrowed features, like life had slightly withdrawn from them and turned them gaunt.Â
Gwyn was dumbstruck by the view and had absolutely no idea what to say, lips apart with awe. Again. Even harrowed, his features were unforgettably striking.
In the warm firelight, he appeared oddly surreal to her. Outworldly beautiful. Especially when he sank into this thick-set silence that he carried around everywhere with his presence. Shadows curled around his feet and crawled over to the corners and nooks of the cottage as if ensconcing into the space comfortably.Â
He then turned to look at her, and she had to peel her eyes away and take a deeper breath to refocus. What was he looking at her like that for now?Â
She didnât even understand what he was expecting her to do withâŠÂ all that. Just because she managed the Blood Rite (which she didnât participate in willingly), it didnât mean she had any rounded experience with war, battle-related injuries, and everything in between those. Â
Putting locks of her hair behind her ears, she walked up to the other side of her living room and took one of the backless stool-chairs she had in front of her library shelves.
âCome sit closer to the fire,â she ordered, circling him and shaking her head in the meantime. The audacity. Of strolling in looking half-dead so late in the evening. And just standing there like that. Looking like the most breathtaking nightmare she could ever imagine.
Wonderously, he obeyed without remonstrance. But when she said, âYou sit still while I go find someone to properly help you,â he frowned. The moment Gwyn started to leave, Azriel reached out to grab her wrist and squeezed it to keep her in place. Her head snapped back to his face, then the hand. Slowly, he let go.
âStay,â he said, and after a beat added, âplease. I donât want anyone else around.â
The retort was at the tip of her tongue: how it was thoughtless of him to come here when he had so many other people and options to choose from, and how his final decision was just all-around stupid. But then she saw that he was under the influence of pain and didnât have the energy to argue, and she gave up on pursuing the subject.Â
Alright, she mouthed and took another breath. âIâll go take some herbs from the other room, then. Donât move.â Then she disappeared into her kitchen and gathered some wintry, healing herbs and plants she kept, and put them in a bowl with some water to heat by the fire.Â
Before she strutted back into her living room, she paused, suddenly aware of the bloodprints Azriel had left around her wrist and over her hands. She cleaned that up quickly, pushing away intrusive thoughts and questions as much as possible. Act now, overthink later.
As she strode back to him, she found him staring tiredly at the fire, the flames flickering in his light hazel eyes. His shadows curled around the chairâs legs and up the backrest, across his shoulder, and fell in generous folds over his right wing.Â
They were strangely animate for something she had put into her inanimate/non-sentient mental category. It was a habit she had from being in the Library. Putting everything in categories and making the world less anxiety-inducing with it. It always helped ground her, ordering and categorizing things.
Gwyn set the water to warm up and went to her bathroom for clean pieces of cloth. And to think she had imagined sheâd spend the night quietly, reading in her soft, cozy armchair. Never a dull day (or night) in the Night Court!Â
Tossing her blanket back to the armchair, she dragged her smaller three-legged wooden stool to the hearth and sat on it, stirring the herbs until the water boiled.
Azriel was watching her. His shadows had spun around her stool too, and at some point, she caught them playfully sweep across the rumpled hem of her cream-white linen dress. They even tugged at the fabric once, retreated, and then tugged again in a teasing dance. She blinked at them incredulously.
âHanging on there?â she glanced at her companion after he gave a suspiciously heavy sigh.Â
âMost of the wounds are skin-deep,â he said, like he sensed the ill-concealed panic in her voice. âLooks worse than it is.â
What a perfectly smooth liar. âYou look in pain, Azriel.âÂ
âNever said I wasnât,â he relented. âBut itâs been much worse.â
Thatâs not a consolation, she thought and shook her head again. Careful not to get a burn, she put the bowl away and soaked a piece of cloth in it. Then she wrung the water out of it and shifted her stool in front of Azriel, taking another closer look.Â
Gwyn tried to convince herself it was not as bad as it looked, eyeing the trails of blood and the cuts over his hands with unease. The leather was ripped along the inner side of his left hand up to the joint of the elbow. On the right hand, he had a triple cut which spanned across the back of his hand, over the wrist, and ripped the leather up to the blue Siphon.Â
She hadnât seen a weapon able to do such a wound. It could be the work of talons or something that belonged to a large beast. Gwyn wasnât sure she wanted to know. What she could see for sure was that both hands bled a lot.
âAzrielâŠâ She formed his name feverishly, hurrying up her motions. Quickly, she took his left hand and dragged the cloth over it. He flinched a little, and then he flinched again because a generous amount of blood dripped on top of her dress and stained it.Â
Gwyn looked up at him with a warning look and forcefully settled his hand on her lap as she cleaned the blood. The dress was the last thing she cared about at the moment. He helped her by removing the Siphons and pulling the leather apart by the seams to better access the wounds.Â
Something warm buzzed through her as she held his palm open and glided the towel across his mutilated skin and those old burn scars. Illyrians really did like dancing with death all the time, didnât they? The only sounds in the room were the fire and their unsteady breathing.Â
âDid⊠a mission go wrong?â
âI canât tell you anything, sorry,â he said curtly, and promptly avoided her gaze when she looked up at his face.
Right. Spymaster. Everything he did out there was a secret. Living his secret life, with his secret thoughts and secret opinions. Gwyn's never attended one with him in it so far, but she was sure he was fun at parties.Â
For a while she was quiet, brushing off dried blood from his skin. Thankfully, it was just the hand wounds that bled so much. Unless he had bad wounds on his back that she hadnât seen yet. And of course, the cuts on his left wing. While she thought about it, furrowing with worry again, she felt him staring again.
Her teal eyes flicked up to his, already on her face in tense silence. Her sides grew warmer, and it surely showed with how moon-pale her freckled skin was. It was a strange sort of tired stare. Like the vibrant colors of her eyes and hair acted as a soothing distraction for him.Â
âWhy did you come here?âÂ
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
Commissioned by @miseryreads for @gwynrielweeksofficial
IG post can be found here.
No reposts without permission and do not use this art for anti content please.
I love, love, love this trope for Gwynriel! After everything Azriel has been through, all the isolation and insecurity, he deserves a love that is open, fierce, and unwavering. A love that holds no secrecy or shame. A love that makes his shadows sing.
And with Gwyn falling first, choosing him. Not for who he tries to be, but for who he truly is. Shadows and all. Itâs the kind of love heâs never experienced, but has always deserved.
And Gwyn, with her steel honed bravery and loyalty, deserves a love returned ten fold to what we know she is capable of giving. A love from someone who recognizes and believes in her strength, with admiration and quiet encouragement shining from his face.
Thank you to @crab-milk for this sweet fanart! Their soft smiles and adorable expressions make me so happy every time I look at it.
There have been some rumblings in the fandom about what colour Gwyn's hair is... but who cares? Certainly not Azriel. He's just here to worship every strand on Gwyn's beautiful head.
Our next author has captured that deep devotion perfectly!
hold your hair in deep devotion
by khajoors
TEASER
Because, some nights, when she wakes up gasping for breath, clawing at her chest, he whispers, smoothing back her hair, away from her face, âBad dream. Youâre here, youâre safe. Youâre here.â And he walks with her to the bathing room as she dry-heaves, and he holds her sweat-drenched hair back, a hand on her back to anchor her back to the present.
And sheâs stronger than him, because even though she eventually falls asleep in his arms, he lays in bed, crystallizing in cold fury, cursing, why hadnât he killed the Hybern soldiers slowly? Why hadnât he savoured it? Why hadnât he made them regret ever touching Gwyn? Why had he gifted them a simple, painless slaughtering? Why hadnât he skinned them, still alive? Still twitching under his fingers? Heâs done that before, he knows how they would have bled all over his hands. He knows how he would have treasured it.
And sheâs stronger than him, because she wakes up the next morning, tired and sad but determined, with her auburn hair thrown atop her head. He wakes up, still dreaming of the feeling of the Hybern soldiersâ blood coating his fingertips.
But she always tethers him back to reality.
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
We now have less than 6 months to go before we're screaming on our timelines about the new book. Can you believe that?!
For our fic of the week, let's keep it short and sweet with some tooth-rotting fluff!
These Scars Paint the Map that Led Me to You
By HLizR50
QUOTE FROM CHAPTER TWO
âYou embolden me, Berdara. There will never be enough words to adequately explain how precious you are to me.â Azriel pulled her down by her nape and brushed his lips so lightly over hers. He held her there, forehead to forehead. âThere will never be a moment in my life when I do not wish that I could take away the suffering that you have endured. I will never be able to erase that, and it fucking kills me. But know this, my love. Every day, I will strive to make new memories with you, to cover these scars in love and adoration.â
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
27 weeks to go, and we are still waiting for the titles. But, lucky for us, we have so many wonderful fics and writers to keep us entertained while we wait!
Let's mix it up this week since it's Nesta Archeron Appreciation week, and Emerie Appreciation week from the 10th of May. They deserve the spotlight too... or should I say the stage! đ
Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot,
At the body shop,
Doing something unholy
Body Shop
by ALDBooks
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ONE
Why the hell did you drag us here, Mor?" Azriel grumbled under his breath as he followed his friends through the dark club.
Cassian, whose arm was slung over the blonde's shoulder looked back at him with a grin. "Cheer up Az. I'll buy you a lap dance if you smile." Azriel gave him an ice cold stare which only made him laugh. "Come on, just a little one. You're so much prettier when you smile."
Morrigan tipped back her head, a musical laugh spilling from her lips that drew several eyes in their direction. They made quite the picture, he knew as they cut through the array of velvet lined couches, following one of the club's hostesses who led them to a large round sofa near the main stage. He and Cass looked dark and imposing in all black and Mor in a slinky red dress, golden curls spilling over equally golden skin. Â
On the stage a man with long red hair, and golden brown skin was dancing for a large group of salivating women, including one that looked somewhat familiar, though he couldn't quite make out her face in the low light. The man's face was hidden behind a glittering fox mask, but he grinned seductively as he crawled across the stage toward the woman who grinned back, tucking a bill in the band of his costume.
Cassian growled playfully at the scene and Azriel shook his head as they took their seats. Mor draped herself over one corner while Azriel took the other and Cassian sprawled out between them, the unbuttoned neck of his shirt spreading open as he laid his arms over the back of the couch and watched the dancer with a smirk. Mor gave their drink orders to the hostess then leaned back in her seat and smiled at him.Â
"You'll see soon enough," she promised. "The club got a new troop of dancers recently. All women. Crowd favorites apparently, and Rita said one of them is just your type."
Azriel just barely repressed an eyeroll and a sigh as he settled back in his seat, resigned to his fate. Ever since his frankly disastrous confession of feelings to her over a year ago, Mor had been trying desperately to set him up with someone else to move his attention away from her.
He didn't quite know how to tell her that that particular goal had already been accomplished. Once she'd explained her preference for female company, he'd taken a critical look at their relationship and interactions over the years since they'd met as teenagers and had felt rather foolish for not picking up on that fact himself ages ago.Â
Once that realization settled fully, it was swiftly followed by the realization that his crush on her had, in actuality, ended years ago. He'd just been holding onto it like a safety net, not wanting to face his own issues with commitment. As long as she remained unattainable in his mind, he had a ready excuse for the string of women he'd left in his wake over the years, none of which had lasted much longer than a night or two.
It was, he thought, a good sign that he was able to identify this issue himself. Not surprising given the hellscape that had been his childhood and his parent's tumultuous relationship growing up. If it hadn't been for Rhys's family all but adopting him as a teenager, he wasn't sure where his life might have ended up, though he had a feeling it would have involved a pair of cuffs and a metal cage, but not the fun kind.
He had to admit, he was a little intrigued. Usually, the kinds of women Mor attempting to shove in his path were the sort of high society types she'd been raised with. Beautiful, cold, perfectly poised. Utterly uninteresting, even to fuck. Why she suddenly seemed to think a dancer at a strip club was a better match for him, he wasn't sure.
A waitress wearing mesh lingerie returned with their drinks and Azriel slipped her a generous tip to keep them coming as the stage before them cleared, the fox masked man, sweeping up the crumpled bills on the stage as he went. Cassian let out a wolfish whistle, earning him a smirk and a wink from the dancer before he sauntered off stage. His brother chuckled, lifting the lip of his beer to his mouth and taking a long drag, eyes firmly glued to the man's ass.
Cassian was perhaps the biggest flirt Azriel had ever met. Cass, as he was fond of saying, had never met a person he couldn't charm into his bed. He and their friend Helion had raised all sorts of hell back in their college days. Azriel's eyes slid to Mor who was grinning back at him as she saluted him with her champagne flute.Â
The atmosphere in the club seemed to shift subtly as the red lights on the stage softened to a silvery blue. Many of the women who'd been fawning over the previous dancer still surrounded the stage, now joined by several eager looking men. Rhythmic beats spilled from the speakers and the energy in the climb climbed higher in anticipation. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mor's grin widen.Â
Heaven help him.
Three, dark figures suddenly appeared on the stage, seeming to have melted into being before his eyes and the crowd erupted in shouts and whistles. The three women were backlit, casting them in shadow so that all he could see was the outline of three uniquely curved feminine figures. Two slowly circled the twin poles on the stage, while the one in the middle swung her hips in time with the beat, her arms reaching overhead in fluid movements. He recognized the song now, Play With Fire.Â
As the chorus hit, the lighting changed and in perfect sync, the two on the poles hoisted themselves into a pose while the third dropped to her knees, head thrown back and hands sliding down her generous curves.
His gaze quickly scanned over the trio, before settling on the woman on the pole closest to him. His entire being stilled, his glass paused halfway to his mouth. Beside him, he swore his friends did the same.Â
All three were stunningly beautiful from what he could see of their faces obscured by winged masks. They wore matching sets of strappy lingerie, connected together by scraps of lace in monochromatic colors. The dark haired woman on the far end wore dark grey that looked like smoke on her bronze skin. The brunette in the middle had strands of gold in her hair and her immaculate skin was complemented by steel blue lace. He could see Cassian leaning forward on his knees to watch her as she rolled and crawled around the floor. He'd found a new target.
The last.... molten copper poured over her shoulder in a silky sheet as she bent backwards, exposing the pale column of her neck that he had a sudden urge to wrap his tattooed fingers around. Pale blue covered her breasts, drawing his attention to the freckles that spilled from her face, down her decolletage, dispersing into creamy skin he could imagine covered in little bruises from his fingers. Or his mouth.
She was too far away for him to determine the color of her eyes and he idly wondered what they'd look like hazed with pleasure.
"Holy hell," Cassian breathed. Azriel couldn't help but agree, utterly mesmerized as he watched the red head climb expertly up and down the pole, twisting her body into impressive positions. Mor's lack of smug commentary momentarily drew his gaze away from the stage and he was amused to find her staring raptly at the dark haired beauty on the other end of the stage, practically on the edge of her seat, one plump red lip between her teeth.Â
When Azriel's gaze returned to the stage, he found a pair of devastating eyes watching him.
Perhaps weâll find out her birthday in the next books, but until then, why not read about Azriel celebrating it as if it were his favourite holiday?
But donât let this sweet teaser fool you. This fic will break your heart before putting it back together again.
Get your tissues ready! The angst is angsting in this one!
Where You Used to Lay Your Head
by loveL
SUMMARY
Before Amarantha and under the mountain Gwyn and Azriel were in a serious, loving relationship for 20 years - unbeknownst to the inner circle at the time. Until she left him without warning, leaving Azriel confused and heartbroken.
Now, 60 years later, they are back in each other's lives, and Gwyn is struggling to keep the secret that tore them apart.
The love they once shared is still palpable, yet Azriel remains unaware of the true reason behind Gwyn's departure, and she wants to keep it that way.
...she needs to keep it that way.
TEASER FROM CHAPTER ELEVEN (NSFW)
âHappy birthday.â
âAss!â She shoved at his shoulders, but he didn't move. âWhy are you naked?â
He nuzzled his face against her neck. âYou smell so good.â
âAzriel.â
âI missed you.â
âAzriel!â
âIt's my turn.â Gwyn went still underneath him. âGood girl,â he purred and teased that overly sensitive spot on her neck.
âCan I at least bathe first?â
âAbsolutely not,â he captured her wrists and pinned them above her head.
âI've just been in the river. I probably smell like a bogââ
âYeah, yeah, you're disgusting. Sit on my face.â
She scoffed and fought against his hold on her wrists. âYou flatter me.â
He hummed, kissing down her body and ducking under her skirts. âI know.â
âAzriel- oh. Oh .â She scrambled for a grip on his hair when he did that thing she liked with his tongue. âYouââ she was cut off by her own laboured breathing. âYou're a bastard.â
He slid the hand that wasn't supporting her hips under her ass and pinched her there. She squeaked and tugged harder at his hair in retaliation.
Her climax was quickly approaching, and he knew it. They hadn't had sex in a while, and it was his turn. Which meant he had to initiate, and frustratingly, he hadn't. She understood why now. He'd been waiting until today, her 40th birthday. Her age was nothing compared to his 500, but he celebrated every one of her birthdays like they were something holy â usually with sex. She wasn't complaining, though.
Azriel no doubt had something planned for today. For her 30th Birthday, she'd gotten 30 orgasms. It had been intense; there had been tears and lots of begging, but you couldn't say the male didn't fulfil his promises.
She came with a shudder and was relieved when Azriel didn't push for another. She glared down at him. âYou're early.â
âAnd youâre so happy to see me,â he said, smoothing her skirt back down and pressing a kiss to her chin. âHappy birthday, my love.â
She smiled, âThank you. I'm assuming you have something planned?â
His smile was nothing short of wicked, âThat depends. How hydrated are you?â
Her eyes widened. âAzrielââ
He picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. âBreakfast in bed!â
âAzriel!â
âLunch in bed!â
âYou're acting like I don't know what that means. We both know youâre the one who's going to be eating. Your crazyââ
He laughed maniacally. âDinner in bed!â
He didn't wait until they got to the bedroom, taking her against the door. They hit number 4 before they reached the bed.
Azriel would later promise 50 orgasms when she turned 50. She had laughed the best she could through a throat raw from screaming and told him she looked forward to it.
But Gwyn would spend her 50th birthday with her twin sister in a temple, unable to quite remember the details of that wicked smile of Azrielâs.
The Story Continues on Ao3
We will be back every Tuesday to make recommendations, but please feel free to leave your favourite fics in the comments or just scream about how excited you are for the next books! đđ¶đ
In observance of Sexual Assault Awareness Month, we're celebrating Priestess, Carynthian, and Valkyrie -- Gwyneth Berdara!
I wrote a little one shot with a headcanon courtesy of @miseryreads -- Gwyn discovering the cat-like entity in the Library is Aidas đ± @gwynrielcentral @gwynrielshappyendings
The library was quiet.Â
The priestesses had all gone to bed. All except for one.
Gwyneth Berdara had a mission.
Research all she could about other worlds.
Rhysand had appointed her the lead researcher for the project, tasking Nesta and Azriel as extra help. Her friends were currently both tucked away in their beds now, or in Azrielâs case, stalking the shadows somewhere in the Court.
So here Gwyn was, slowly perusing the rows and rows of ancient texts, looking for every book she could find on other worlds, powerful swords, and archaic magics.
Gwyn enjoyed working late into the night. With no one to interrupt her, she could get so much done. Many priestesses didnât like it because it's when the most sightings of the cat-like shadow entity were reported.
It spooked most, but not Gwyn. At least, it didnât anymore. When she first came to the library any shadow sent her pulse racing and stole her breath.Â
But she had overcome that. She had found her grounding and now she was running full tilt. Not away, but to. Running to a future full of mystery and adventure.
And she was thrilled.
How many times had she and Catrin talked about all the adventures theyâd go on visiting other temples? Sharing their love and compassion with new courts. Keeping the old religion alive while bringing with it a new horizon.
Too many to count.
The two years she stowed herself away in the library were necessary, but that time was running up. She felt stifled. Chained back.
This mission was her chance to do what she always dreamed of. To break free and come into her own. It was what Catrin would want.
Gwyn stood on tiptoe to reach a book on a shelf just a little too high.Â
That was one of many perks of having Azriel here. He was just that much taller and could also fly up for the top shelf books.
The other perks were personal reasons that she told herself sheâd control the best she could, but sometimes it was a battle in itself to keep her eyes on the pages in front of her and not on the ShadowsingerâŠ
Thunk!
Gwyn stilled on her toes, her fingertips just gripping the book she was after. What was that?
As far as she knew, she was the only one hereâŠ
Thunk â thunkthunkthunk.
Gwyn lowered her heels slowly to the ground and held her breath as she peered around the room. The fae lights had dimmed with the late hour, making the shadows grow and darken. Sheâd grown used to the heavy silence of the shadows of the library to the point they didnât bother her, but there was something about the shadows now.Â
They pulsed, swaying in the golden light as if they were breathing and a chill swept over her.
âHello?â She called out, her breath clouded in front of her as she spoke. Weird. Being an underground library the temperature was often at a comfortable fifty or so degrees, but now it was freezing.
Gwyn pulled her robes around her and hugged her books to her chest as she crept forward on quiet feet.
A shadow darted across the floor. Like a cat scurrying to hide. She spun to face it, but there was nothing there.
Did she follow it?
Obviously.
Putting her books down on a nearby table, Gwyn followed where sheâd seen the shadow disappear. It led to a part of the library she hadnât been to before. An old section with dilapidated bookshelves, papers strewn on the floor. There were few and far between books on the shelves. All of them covered in layers of dust.Â
Her fingers itched to open them all and discover their secrets but another sound caught her attention.
SssshphwapâŠ.ssssshphwapâŠ.sssshphwapâŠ.
Gwyn knew that sound. The unmistakable noise of someone turning the pages of a book. One by one. Flipping through to find what theyâre looking for.
Without a second thought, Gwyn rushed through the aisles, turning and twisting until she came to the last row. Taking a deep breath she rounded the corner and froze.
It was dark, almost too dark to see every detail, but what was undeniable was the figure standing at the end of the row.
Tall with a shock of white hair that fell to their shoulders and eyes a stunning shade of opal blue.
They were looking right at her, a book in their arms, the pages turning on their own surely by some sort of magic.
SssshphwapâŠ.ssssshphwapâŠ.sssshphwapâŠ.
Gwyn should be frightened. Terrified to find someone else down here in such a secluded section of the library. If she screamed would anyone even hear her?
But Gwyneth Berdara didnât scream. Because while this intruder should not be here, she felt a sense of serendipity. Like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Gwyn opened her mouth to demand they tell her who they were and why they were here when they spoke first, their voice like a chill in the night.
âIâve been watching you, Gwyneth Berdara.â How did he know her name?â
âWho are you?â She asked.
They smiled, but ignored her inquiry. âYou seek sacred knowledge.â It was a statement, not a question.
Gwyn narrowed her eyes. âThat is usually what priestesses in a library do, yes. Very astute observation.â
They chuckled. âBut you are not just a priestess, are you?â Their eyes shimmered in the dark and they said, âYou are a Carynthian. A Valkyrie. A warrior with a brave heart and the strength of a mountain.â
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her blood pumped swiftly through her veins.
She was speechless as the stranger continued, âI donât often intrude on others, unless I truly believe in them and their purpose. And you, Gwyneth Berdara, have a great purpose.â
âWhat purpose is that?â She asked, breathlessly, finally finding her voice.
The strangerâs mouth ticked up again and they glanced down at the book in their hands before locking onto her gaze.
Their eyes glowed brighter, forcing the shadows around them to dance with the light and suddenly she was bombarded with a flash of images:
A sky filled with darkness, wings beating, people screaming.Â
A field of gleaming armor and roaring shifters.
Red blood mixing with an inky, unnatural blackness.
She saw all the people sheâd come to know. All of them standing in a line behind her and the Valkyries, swords and weapons raised, magic swirling around them.
As quickly as the images flashed before her eyes, they were gone and so was the stranger.
The familiar shadows settled around her again, the chill in the air warmed as a wind swept her hair from her face. Gwyn blinked, adjusting to the dimness of the library. There on the ground was the book theyâd been holding.
Sweat trickled down her back as she took tentative steps forward until she was standing right where the stranger had been. Looking down at the book, she read the title:Â
The Battle of Orynth
As quickly as she read the title, the book flipped open and Gwyn held back her squeak of surprise as the pages flickered. So fast she couldnât read any of the words until it slowed to a halt on a chapter titled:
How Sealing the Wyrdgates Freed a Kingdom
Gwyn sucked in a breath and looked around.
She was alone in the library once again, but as she picked up the book and began to read, she couldâve sworn she heard the sound of chirping laughter, like a mischievous cat merowing.
Divider by @thecutestgrotto
For more info and resources on Sexual Assault Awareness Month visit the National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC)
