With Azriel double checking their plans to get into the Mortal Palace, Gwyn was free to help Nesta and Emerie in designing a training program for the Illyrian females. Most of them had clipped wings, only the youngest did not, so any training would be land-based, and there wasn't enough time for aerial combat for those who could fly anyway. Gwyn hadn't even considered them being on the front lines, but they could perhaps form an auxiliary force, the last line to break, the surprise that the rebels weren't expecting. Still, not everyone wanted to train, and not all of them could bear to fight, not when they might face fathers, husbands, brothers, sons on the other side of the battlefield. Even those who could not, or would not, fight could still be helpful though. It had been Emerie who had suggested that Madja and Velaris' healers run some medical training for those who preferred to help in that way. Nesta's eyes had darkened with rage at the thought of the grievous injuries that would undoubtedly be sustained when the fighting broke out, and Gwyn threw an arm over her shoulders, knowing that she was recalling Cassian's injuries from the last war.
"The most important thing will be on the battlefield," Gwyn mused, "The issue with our healers is that they are based at camps, so casualties can't reach them. If we can get a group of medics on the battlefield, at least trained to defend themselves if necessary, but with the key skills to keep casualties alive until they can be seen by a healer, we'll be in a much better position. Especially if those medics are female, they'll be ignored and overlooked." Nesta nodded her agreement, and Emerie suggested a few females that she knew who might be interested in such a role.
"Every Illyrian female knows some basic healing skills, but nothing that would work on a battlefield, we'll have to get word out quickly, and hope that the males don't object." Nesta grinned,
"Oh, they won't object, not if I personally send out invitations to classes. They think I'm a witch, and they're scared shitless of me, my presence on a battlefield might hopefully convince the rebels to think twice, although, perhaps not, if they're willing to rebel against their High Lord and Lady."
"Oh they'll definitely think twice about fighting you, sweetheart," Cassian chuckled, starling all females as he strode through the open door and kissed the top of Nesta's head, she shrugged,
"I'll just have to make them think that I'll cast a spell to cut their balls off," Cassian laughed again,
"Such a beautiful, violent female," he murmured, casting his gaze across the training plans,
"Any changes you suggest?" Gwyn asked, keen to break up the way both Nesta and Cassian had looked at each other just then,
"It's pretty good, but I'd focus a little more on hand-to-hand combat, we don't have time to fully build up to swords, perhaps fighting knives would be better. They're lighter, and females are smaller, quicker, lighter than males, knives would allow them to use that to their advantage in a fight, even against a male wielding a broadsword." Gwyn noted down Cassian's suggestions, leaving the final decisions to Nesta and Emerie, it would be them, after all, who oversaw the training, Gwyn would be working with Azriel to remain one step ahead of the rebels, and the queens.
Gwyn noted the room slowly filling up, but it didn't bother her, it didn't bother her that with Amren was that dark-skinned male whom she hardly knew. She merely acknowledged his presence with a nod, her attention fixed on finishing her portion of the the plans, leaning back in her chair, and stretching. Azriel was the last to arrive, automatically making his way across to Gwyn and resting a hand on the back of her chair. She tipped her head sideways to slightly touch that hand. Azriel would never be one for public affection like Cassian and Nesta, but, like Cassian, he needed that contact, needed the contact he had been denied for so long to remind himself that she didn't hate him, that she loved him, that he was worthy of her love, had always been. Even Amren had stifled a smile at Gwyn's subtle display of affection, and Theia was practically beaming with joy at the way Azriel had relaxed at Gwyn's touch, the tension in his muscles releasing before he spoke,
"Gwyn and I have finalized a way into the Mortal Palace. We will have to go alone, and ordinarily, I wouldn't even suggest bringing her at this point in her training, but she has contacts within, and outside the Palace. She is our way in, and our way to send reports back here. We'll spell the reports, but only to one person, I can't work a spell more complicated than that." He looked to Rhys and Feyre, "Who do want me to spell it to?" Feyre shuffled in her seat,
"Rhys." Rhys made to complain, but Feyre raised a hand, "He has more experience, and will know the key things to look for, especially with reports from you, you know each other's way of working better than me, I'm still learning how to be High Lady. And," she added with a sigh, "I have to feed Nyx several times every night, I'm tired, I might miss something." Rhys sighed but nodded,
"Spell the reports to me then. When can you expect to get in?"
"We'll leave tomorrow," Gwyn answered, "There's only a few final preparations needed, Azriel can winnow us onto the continent, but we'll have to travel the rest of the way on foot, by air it'll be too visible, and to winnow any closer might set off wards, besides, some of my friends live a few miles out. We should be able to get into the Palace within a week, unless we come across something unaccounted for, I'd expect the first update about a week after that, give or take." Azriel nodded,
"I'll only be wearing two siphons most of the time, and we won't be in full armor, the aim is to get in disguised as a rebel warrior and his wife." He paused for a moment, and Gwyn nodded, encouraging him to continue after a moment's hesitation. "Gwyn will be noticed at once as out of place," Azriel turned to Rhys, "Can you glamour her to appear Illyrian? You only need to give her wings." Still, wings were the most difficult part of that request, if he couldn't make a glamour look realistic, Gwyn had already agreed to allow them to attempt to shift her into an Illyrian body. Rhys pursed his lips,
"I can try, but I don't know if I'l be able to make them move naturally if I'm not there, the innate magic may not be enough." Gwyn knew that, but she still asked him to try, and closed her eyes at the touch of night-flecked power on her. "Just move about a bit, Gwyn, let me see if it works without me actively moving it around." She got up, walked a couple of laps on the room, threw a couple of punches at the air, turned around quickly, but her face fell at the silence around her,
"It's not working is it?"
"No, I'm sorry," Rhys muttered, "The only other way would be to shift your body into that of an Illyrian. I can definitely do that, and then reverse it when you're back, but it would involve me changing your body." He said carefully, slowly gauging her reaction
"I know." Gwyn said, her chin held high as the glamour lifted, "Az already warned me, and it's okay. I trust him, and everyone in this room," there was a moment of surprise in Rhys' eyes as he glanced towards Varian, "Even him. He has been nothing but kind and respectful, and he has already earned all of your trust, I would be foolish not to trust him as well, if all of you do, he must have proved himself several times."
"That he has," Rhys mused, and offered Feyre a questioning glance, falling silent for a moment before Feyre broke the silence,
"We think it'll be better if I do this, I have more experience with different types of shifting, and I have shifted myself into an Illyrian form many times. I've also seen, and felt the magic's imprint, when Tamlin shifted others into different forms, Rhys has only ever shifted himself into his beast form. Gwyn nodded, altogether more comfortable with Feyre's magic, as a female, it somehow felt familiar, less alien and frightening. "This will probably tingle a bit and feel odd, but it won't hurt." Gwyn mentally braced herself, almost flinching at the tingle in her shoulders, then expanding across her whole body. She opened her eyes once the tingling had faded, she felt the same, but the moment she moved something felt wrong, different. Her balance was off, something pulling her backwards. She flexed her shoulders, and a whoosh of air alerted her to the wings now flaring out behind her. She flinched at the sound of breaking china,
"Sorry," she muttered, and wriggled the wings around a bit before figuring out how to close them. The one thing that she had expected to bother her didn't, the weight of the wings was less than she'd thought it would be, and her training had built up her muscles so that she could carry them easily without worrying about dragging them on the floor.
"You could fly if you wanted to," Feyre said, "I've made them look clipped as that's what would make sense, but the tendons and muscles beneath are normal, and I don't expect there'll be much time for you to learn to fly anyway, but in an emergency you will be able to." Gwyn nodded, "You should get used to moving around with them, and fighting, it feels a bit different to usual, your center of balance is shifted backwards, so it just takes a bit of getting used to."
"I'm sure it will, we have until lunch tomorrow to get ready, so hopefully I'll be re-balanced by then. It should definitely be before we reach the Palace at any rate."
Gwyn had adjusted to the wings remarkably quickly, the walk to the training ring seeming to be long enough for her to figure out how her balance needed to shift. She warmed up normally, albeit a little slower than usual, but she didn't seem to have any issues, not ones that she needed Azriel's help with anyway.
"Okay, just practice unfolding and folding your wings for now, we can do something more once you're comfortable with that." Gwyn nodded, and flared out her wings, faster than before, and stumbled backwards, Azriel stifled a chuckle at her surprise, but she folded them in, then out again, and kept her balance. She kept going until she could do it while walking around, sitting down, drawing a weapon. She cursed Azriel's name soundly when he made her practice doing it while running and drawing a weapon at the same time, a wooden practice sword. Gwyn had questioned what the point was in using a practice sword, but as she clipped the corner of a wing and tripped up, rolling to regain her feet she just glared at him. "Go again," he chuckled, "Any child can do this,"
"Any child can do this," she mimicked, glaring at him, and he laughed,
"I do not sound like that," She just huffed, but did as she was told, falling several more times before she fixed her timing and drew the sword from a sheath at her side consistently without falling. The moment she was confident with that, Azriel switched the sheath to one down her spine. She could do it standing still on the first try, but the moment she started moving, her wings moved a bit, and she kept hitting them, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She groaned, but kept getting back up, slapping away Azriel's hand when he extended it, a multitude of profanities falling from her lips each time. He could barely hold back his laughter at the sight of Gwyn, usually so balanced and elegant, falling on her ass, and swearing enough to put even Cassian to shame. Still, a beautiful rosy blush was now staining her cheeks, and she was panting slightly in the sun's punishing heat. "One more." He called, and Gwyn flipped him off before taking off at a sprint, and whooping in delight when she drew her sword without incident, looking back at him and grinning with undisguised joy. "Take a break."
"No. I want to fight," she complained,
"Break. Once we start combat training we'll go until you're ready to drop, break. Now." He left no room for argument, but Gwyn still rolled her eyes as she nudged past him to get to the water he'd brought out. She'd made a hundred such gestures, but each time he couldn't help the rush of delight that washed over him that she was able to be this comfortable whilst alone with a male, let alone that male being him. She was still experimenting with the position of her wings, but stopped when she noticed Azriel's attention, muttering something about overbearing busybodies before practically bouncing up to him and demanding that they move on to combat. Azriel couldn't help but match her energy, not as she grinned and almost danced on the spot when he agreed, but he did make her walk through her patterns first, demonstrating them so that she could see what he did with his wings. He did warn her not to think too much about them though, with the muscles at the base, they would re-balance subconsciously, even though she hadn't been born with them.
As with almost everything he had ever thrown at her, Gwyn took back to fighting with surprising ease, enough that he was confident to agree to spar at the end of their training session. He moved a little slower than usual, his blows lighter than usual, giving Gwyn a little extra time to balance to parry each blow and then retaliate. She, however, did not hold back, and at times it felt like she was trying to knock Azriel's head off, and very nearly succeeded at one point, with Azriel only just dodging the blow and ducking under her blade to force her to turn. As she spun round, the momentum forced her wings out, and she struggled to balance, flaring them out further, and Azriel yelped when she smacked him across the face, having failed to step far enough back. Gwyn froze at the sound, finally regaining her balance and whirled to find Azriel taking a few steps back to a healthy distance,
"Oh, I'm sorry!" She rushed towards him, and pulled his face down, inspecting the slightly reddened skin of his cheek, and tutted to herself, "Sorry," she whispered again, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, "There. That's better," she said, "I think we'd better call it a day there, I'm getting tired, so I'll just end up doing that again otherwise." Azriel nodded, then gently caught her wrist, turning her back towards him,
"You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm just, I don't know," she shrugged, "I'm fine though, I'm fine," he raised an eyebrow at that, she seemed to be convincing herself more than him,
"Pre-mission nerves?"
"I guess," she sighed, "I'll be fine once we've got there."
"I want to show you something, how I always got over it." Gwyn smirked at that,
"And what would that be?"
"Hold on," that was the only warning Gwyn got before he scooped her up and launched upwards, leaving her screaming and throwing her arms around his neck. Azriel flapped again, rising up and up and up, until Velaris was just a mosaic of lights below them, he leveled out and Gwyn whooped in delight, before smacking him on the arm,
"Asshole!" She hissed, but Azriel just chuckled and pretended to drop her, making her squeal again, and cling on to him tighter, burying her face in his neck, "I hate you," she mumbled, but still relaxed into him, and pressed another kiss against the cheek her wing had smacked,
"Really hold on now," Azriel murmured, this time waiting until she was clinging on before offering her a cocky smirk, and falling out of the sky. A scream tore from Gwyn's throat as they fell, tumbling through the air, his wings blowing up around them as the wind rushed past, whipping Azriel's hair around his face. Quickly Gwyn's screams turned into shouts and whoops of delight, the wind tearing her hair out of her braid, sending it flying out behind her, and Azriel laughed, truly laughed, pulling her in for a kiss. He clutched her tighter against his chest, flipping over so that he could see the ground, and Gwyn screamed again as it approached,
"Pull up!" She screamed, "We're going to crash!"
"Trust me," Azriel murmured in her ear, and she trembled at his voice, almost imperceptibly arching into him at that little reminder of last night. She buried her face in Azriel's neck again, not even opening them at the rush of wind as he flapped hard, mere feet from the ground just outside the city. He circled lazily upwards, cruising over the city, and Gwyn finally opened her eyes, and smiled,
"Can we do that again?" Azriel grinned,
"Going to keep your eyes open this time, Valkyrie?"
"Going to try and kill me again, Shadowsinger?"
"Never," he murmured, but gave no warning before folding his wings in again and plummeting towards the earth, holding Gwyn so that the wind rippled against her own newly formed wings. The look of wonder on her face as she felt the wind was unrivaled in beauty, and Azriel clutched her hands, "Do you trust me?"
"Always," she hesitated only a heartbeat before taking his hands and turning onto her belly, holding Azriel's hands in front of her,
"Wings out," she did as he said, and he did so at the same time, the wind slowing as it caught their wings. Azriel angled towards an updraft, and Gwyn laughed with joy as she was pushed up in the air, with her wings automatically catching the breeze. She whooped again, and let Azriel guide her through Velaris' winds and currents, leaving them both wind-chilled but laughing uncontrollably when he pulled her into his chest and dove through their bedroom window. "Nest step, flying on your own." He whispered, and Gwyn shook her head disbelievingly,
"That's a big step."
"Need me to hold your hand?" Azriel teased, and Gwyn's competitive gleam reappeared in her eyes,
"I'll be flying better than you in no time." She declared, sweeping off to the bathroom before he could respond. He chuckled to himself, still staring after the female who had made him open his heart to the world, who had seen the shadows and the person he sometimes had to be and had decided to love all of him, flaws and all. It made his heart ache with love, greater than he'd ever felt, he didn't need a mating bond, he didn't need what Rhys and Cassian had, he just needed her. He just needed Gwyn.