Emerie because she’s amazing and deserves all the love I’m glad I finally found the time to finish this piece. This was one of my favourite scenes because we really got to see Emerie and Nesta bond.
“The light female’s voice had Nesta twisting around, stiffening as she found a priestess in the robes of an acolyte standing between the two nearest shelves. Her hood was thrown back, and faelight danced in the rich coppery chestnut of her pin-straight hair.”
Here is my drawing of Gwyn because I absolutely loved her. I’m not gonna lie, I definitely struggled with this because it wasn’t turning out the way I imagined and I really wanted to capture her spirit. But I’m proud of the end result and I hope you like it :)
for fun, i started doing character designs from sarah maas’s a court of thorns and roses series. i love doing book character designs and the descriptions in this series inspired me! i’m working on the other different high lords and their entourages now as well
Nah cause to my fellow Gwyn and Nesta stans who are comparing Feyre to Gwyn and thinking Gwyn is better than her…you’re all embarrassing as fu*k. Like seriously stop. You’re literally acting exactly like the people you’re talking sh*t about. And the worst part is…most of you are grown a$$ adults in your late 20s and early 30s acting like this. Please. Just grow up and shut the f up for like 5 mins. You’re all seriously embarrassing af and making the rest of us (who love Feyre, Nesta and Gwyn) look like clowns in the process!!!!
Also if you’re gonna preach feminism…you have to be an actual feminist. Not to be one when it is convenient when you talk about your favourite and then get all internally misogynistic when talking about you’re least favourite. Fake feminism at it’s finest!!!! Embarrassing and childish ♀️
a/n: Based on a fanart by Lucielart, commissioned by @booknerd87 on tumblr. Part of her “A Picture and the Story Behind” collection. Happy Birthday, lovely!
The cool of the blade spread across his skin. It was pressed hard enough to be felt, but not so hard it would leave a mark.
Az almost wished it would.
“Do you yield, Shadowsinger?”
He couldn’t help but flash a half-smile to the redhead. “I never yield, Berdara.” She pressed the flat side of the blade harder against his neck, bringing her body nearer to his.
This close, he was overtaken by water lilies and a river rushing through the forest. The scent so strong, he felt as if they’d been transported to a clearing by a small brook.
“Cassian says otherwise,” Gwyn challenged, not easing up on her hold of Az.
“Cassian says a lot of things."
Her lips twitched upward, as if she wanted to laugh in agreement but wouldn’t let herself. "He also says there’s no dishonor in yielding to the better fighter.”
“Yeah,” Az chuckled. “I’ll believe him when I see him yield.”
Adding more pressure to the blade, Gwyn watched Az carefully, her eyes scanning his face, looking for something. Likely insight into what he’d do next.
He lifted his hands and rested them on hers, wrapping them around her fingers and the dagger’s hilt. His callouses wouldn’t let him appreciate the smooth backside of her hand, but they didn’t stop the tingling sensation that buzzed up his arms from the point of contact. “A knife to the neck is a good power play, but if you’ve left both of your opponent’s arms free, they’ve got far more room to fight back, even if you do have their legs pinned.” His shadows danced up his wrists until they were swirling around their joined hands.
Swimming in deep pools of teal, Az couldn’t look away from her eyes as he pushed the dagger away from him. Gwyn attempted to hold it where it was, but he was stronger. And once it was far enough from his skin, he managed to wrangle it out of her hand. The metal clanged against the floor of the training ring, the sound drawing Gwyn’s gaze away for a minute.
His shadows retreated slightly, back to their perch on his shoulders, watching Gwyn. Marking every tiny move in case Azriel missed one.
He never did.
“I guess I still need more lessons,” Gwyn breathed, slowly looking back toward Az. His hands were still holding hers. She didn’t pull away.
“Whenever you want, Priestess.” Az could feel his chest expanding and contracting with each breath he took. Gwyn was so close to him, her eyes bright and contemplative. A faint blush spread across her cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to lift a hand and brush the color softly. But he dare not.
Gwyn had recently become more comfortable with his touch. Letting him direct and guide her, to take her hand when necessary. All for teaching purposes. Their touches were no more than a mentor helping a student learn a proper stance or move. That’s all they could be. It didn’t matter how much more they might mean to Az, how much more he wanted. Gwyn’s comfort came first.
Still, this close, it would be so easy to lean in. To just ghost his lips across hers, to chance a quick taste, knowing it would likely be his only one.
Azriel would never disrespect Gwyn like that. It was just a dream, another fantasy. That’s all he was ever granted: fantasies. He tried to shut them off, to keep his mind occupied with other thoughts. Consciously, he refused to think about Gwyn in that way. But in his dreams, on the nights he actually managed to sleep, there was no stopping them.
Picture after picture of a possible life flooded his mind. Picnics by the Sidra. Getting a small house together. Private game nights at the House. Spying together on various missions. Stolen kisses in the garden. Secret moments in hidden alcoves that only the House would witness.
He would wake smiling every time they came. And it would quickly fade when he remembered it was a dream he’d never have.
Gwyn’s eyes flicked down to the hands that were still holding hers.
Idiot. This touch was far beyond that of a teacher helping a student.
He moved to slide his hands away, but she turned her palm and linked her fingers with one of them as the other fell away.
It was as if his entire body had expanded, only so that he could feel even more hollow. And yet, it was warm and welcome, and entirely daunting.
He swallowed as she locked her stare with his again.
Everything was pounding. Everything was silent as a grave.
Gwyn leaned in slightly, her movement slow, cautious. Az was frozen in place. And even if he could move, he wouldn’t. He didn’t know what was going through Gwyn’s mind. What she was thinking or doing. But whatever it was, he would give her the control. He would always give her the control in such a close proximity. Whenever she wanted it.
She stilled, her face a few inches from his, her breathing as heavy and ragged as his had become.
“Az,” she whispered, her eyes flicking between his and his mouth. In five hundred years, his self-control had never been so tested as it was in that moment. He was practically shaking with restraint, only he couldn’t do that either. Not as Gwyn sat on top of him, able to feel his every heartbeat.
Drums started to sound in his distant corners, announcing an army that would march through his entire body. He could feel the vibrations of the footsteps in the depths of his chest.
Gwyn’s eyes never left his. They held his stare and wouldn’t let it go. Not that Az wanted them, too. No, he would gladly stare into that sea of teal all day if Gwyn would let him.
He felt a nudge at the back of his head, something cool and not entirely corporeal. One of his shadows, pushing him closer.
Az let it, bringing his face closer to Gwyn’s. From this distance he could easily find shapes and images in the freckles across her nose and cheeks, like constellations in the stars. His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing through her hair and pushing it out of her face.
Images from his dreams flashed across his mind, more determined than ever before. He attempted to shut them down, to quell the hope that was building.
“Gwyn?” he breathed, barely making a sound. Something was on her mind. He could see it in her stare, in the tension in her lips.
The corners of her mouth ticked upward and then she was leaning in again.
His shadows began to swirl around them, shrouding them, as if trying to offer some privacy. As if that were possible at the House in any sense. Especially out in the open in the training ring.
Az couldn’t breath as Gwyn inched closer. He’d dreamed of her getting this close for months. Of her smile and lips, her laugh, her bright eyes. And now it was happening. She leaned her face into his hand, even as she moved toward him, tilting her head.
It was her choice. He stayed still to ensure it remained that way, but Cauldron did he want this, for her lips to reach his, to brush them, press against them.
“Don’t even think about it!"
The cry sounded through the air, making Az’s shadows retreat as Gwyn jolted away.
"Don’t think about what?” a deeper voice chuckled.
Az groaned as he recognized the voices. As he heard the footsteps on the stairs coming from the House to the ring.
Gwyn stood, straightening herself. Az followed her lead, moving slower than her as he mentally cursed his brother. Cassian would find a way to chase Nesta up to the ring at the worst possible moment.
Az held out the dagger to Gwyn. She accepted it and muttered, “Thanks, again. For the lesson and…yeah."
He nodded and watched as Gwyn put the dagger back in its place and then rushed through the door just as Nesta and Cassian got there. His eyes remained on the emptying stairwell behind the two idiots who were now staring at him with shit eating grins.
"Did we walk in on something, brother?” Cassian wondered, his words full of amusement.
Az rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. “Dagger lessons.” He shot a quick glare at Cassian and then spread his wings, taking off for a much needed flight to expel some pent-up energy.
Perhaps it wasn’t just her and Feyre, then. Perhaps all sisters had difficulties, fights, chasms between them. She wasn’t perfect, but … neither was Feyre. They had both made mistakes. And both had long, long lives ahead of them. What had occurred in the past did not have to dictate the future.
I don’t know how we as a fandom Mandela effect-ed ourselves into thinking she has red hair but it is described as coppery chestnut or coppery brown every time her hair color is mentioned. Oops.
This has been driving me nuts for a whole year now
Her hair is “coppery brown” the way the Archerons’ hair is “golden brown.” The way I see it, they aren’t blondes just because their hair has golden undertones. And Gwyn isn’t a true redhead just because her brown hair has coppery undertones.
Facts. While her hair might not be straight “brown,” it’s still not the gingery red that fandom has collectively used for it. Hair can have multiple tones, but we keep making it flat as hell for both Gwyn and the Archeron’s. It’s annoying.
Plus, Gwyn’s hair is so frickin pretty if you look up “copper chestnut.” It should be appreciated for its depth of tones, instead of being relegated to regular ginger.
I’ve been wanting to see a Gwyn art like this, her lineage is fascinating to me, can’t wait to learn more about it.
The flowers are Nymphaeas, the fishes are gobbies, they are freshwater species since she is a quarter river nymph, and can you see the cute blue scales on her neck and face? I’m obsessed.
Please do not repost it, the artist does not allow it
This art has been done for a while and was originally meant for a personal project one of my friends is doing from April to June where you pair an art with a story (hence why it is clearly depicting a scene that should be in the middle of a writing piece), however we decided against it when we realized it could look like we’re infringing on another fandom even currently taking place.
Either way, I am blow away by how amazing this art looks! When I first imagined Gwyn saving Azriel in the middle of battle I was reluctant to commission the idea because it was rather specific, but everything from the pegasus, the expressions, to the background are so gorgeous and I’m beyond happy with how the final product came out!
A huge thanks to @mostwantedpotato404 for taking on this commission and bringing it to life!
BAHAHAHAHAHAA I CANT, I can totally see the shadows being jealous of Azriel getting all of Gwyn’s attention : Like this is how they would feel in the ‘court of shadows’
This is also for sjm romance week but it’s a crack ship :
High Lord Shadow : *grumbles* I can’t believe that motherfucker stole her away from us this easily. WE WERE THE ONE WHO GOT THEM TOGETHER!
High Lady Shadow : I KNOW RIGHT?!! WE WERE THE ONE WHO GAVE HIM THE IDEA TO TAKE HER OUT ON A DATE! WE WERE THE ONE WHO PESTERED THEM!
Clown Shadow : and he stole her away simply by preparing a candle lit dinner, y’all are stupid af *snickers*.
Everyone : *murmuring* Shut up.
Logical shadow : No but srsly, we did all the work, we made the bond snap for Azriel, we made him realize his true love was Gwyn. I think he took advantage of us.
High Lord Shadow : *Gapes: NO*
Clown Shadow : *breaks out into laughter* It’s ironic isn’t it, he made her forget about us by not even taking us on his first date, a date WHICH WE ORGANIZED.
High Lady Shadow : Enough. We’re having a war. get the ignorant shadows ready. We aren’t helping him until he promises never to leave us alone and leash us into place when he’s with her. Get the innocent and lovey dovey shadows ready too, we’re gonna get mama Gwyn on our side.
Ignorant shadows: *groan* We have to work? Again? Gods why can’t this guy do anything right.
High lady shadow : Oh shut up, all you have to do is ignore him.
Ignorant shadows : *role eyes* fine
High Lord Shadow : Great. Let’s commence this war. ALL HAIL GWYNETH BERDARA!
