Gwyn's legs were already cramping from her place hidden in the bushes. She couldn't see Rhys, but he was somewhere across from her, on the other side of the track leading from the nearby Illyrian Camp to the cabin Cassian sometimes used when visiting these camps. Cassian himself was nowhere in sight, both he and Azriel had gone to inspect the camp, and would be coming back this way, seemingly unawares of the danger waiting. It still grated that she didn't know exactly where the rebels would be waiting, but this had seemed the most likely spot, and she only hoped that they'd been right to choose this spot to wait in.
Voices from along the trail alerted her to Cassian and Azriel's approach, and her heart sped up, she told herself to calm, steadied her breathing, but her heart betrayed her. It didn't matter that they knew the plan, all she could think was that they were about to walk into a trap, she hated it, hated it with every fiber of her being, but there was nothing she could do to change it, nothing but sit and watch. She would help them, take the rebels by surprise and from a second direction, they would both be fine, but it didn't stop her fear, didn't quell the metallic tang in the back of her throat.
A rustle in the trees along the path sounded to her left, and Gwyn automatically turned her head towards it, cursing herself internally for the movement, although it was unlikely that anyone would glance in her direction, the movement would give her away. She waited one minute, two, ten, nothing, perhaps it had been an animal, and Azriel had just rounded the bend, with Cassian appearing a heartbeat later. She tensed, ready to leap up, and wriggled her toes, her fingers, it wouldn't do for her to cramp up right when she needed to fight. A shout from across the trail drew her attention, all of her attention, and a single Illyrian warrior burst onto the path. Gwyn made to shout a warning as both Cassian and Azriel turned to assess the threat, to shout a warning about the five others appearing behind them, tried to shout before a gloved hand clamped down over her mouth, pinching her nose at the same time. She wriggled, but a sharp point pressed into her back, digging into her spine,
"Don't move," a voice hissed in her ear, the hand over her mouth and nose forcing her head up uncomfortably, keeping her off balance, unable to breathe through the hand covering her face, watching as Azriel whirled just in time to block a knife hurtling through the air. Rhys. Where was Rhys? He could still help them. Through her blurring vision, she made out a faint sound, to her right this time, away from the fight, the clash of swords her mind told her, but it couldn't be, because that would mean, she blinked to clear her head, that would mean that Rhys had been intercepted too, that Cassian and Azriel were on their own. She slowly maneuvered her hand to get into a position to escape her attacker, but he tightened his grip, "Move, and this dagger goes into your spine, not even your pretty bastard and his shadowsinging will let you walk again." Gwyn froze immediately, her fear an icy torrent through her veins, he meant it, she could tell he meant it, with the quiet anger, the slight hiss of his voice, he would hurt her, and worse, if she didn't get away. She relaxed in his grip, letting him think he'd won, that she'd given up, would go quietly. The moment the dagger at her back lifted slightly, relieving the pressure, she surged backwards, colliding with the male's legs and sending him off balance, both hands whirling through the air to find his balance again, that dagger cast to the side. He was still kneeling above her though, and glared down at her when he grabbed a branch to steady himself, "You'll pay for that, bitch," he snarled, but Gwyn moved faster, turning onto her back and firing her foot forwards as hard as she could, almost wincing at the impact.
She knew the impact that her kick would have, but knowing, and seeing the male go glassy-eyed and keel over, groaning in pain at that single blow were two different things. She'd meant to kick him in the thigh, to push him off, she'd missed, but that probably wasn't a bad thing. She huffed to herself, and brushed herself down, delivering a quick blow to the temple to knock him out. It took a few moments to steady her breathing, to draw in the air she desperately needed, leaving Cassian and Azriel alone for a few, too long, moments before sprinting for the males attacking Cassian and Azriel, more than there should be, and a different tactic. They'd been played, somehow they'd been played, maybe those plans had been fake just in case, maybe they'd already been recognized by the time she'd found them, but it didn't matter as she hurtled along the path, her sword a gleaming steak of steel beside her. Rhys was still nowhere to be seen, but by the sounds of fighting, he was close by, and getting closer.
Her sword became an extension of her arm, her very soul as she moved, each blow calculated, but she was getting nowhere, for each male she got past, there were two more, and then they caged her in, attacking from all sides. Dimly, she realized she must have missed some on her way in, she'd rushed, hadn't fully understood the situation, and now she would pay with her life.
"Gwyn!" Her heart stopped,
"Az!" She couldn't tell if he was screaming for help, for her to run, or just trying to see that she was alive, but she couldn't stand it. She refused to die. These males would not take the one of the only things she had ever truly wanted from her, they would not take the first future she had ever wanted to fight for. But fight she would have to, harder, faster, stronger than ever before, or it would all slip away.
But there were too many of them, too many, too many, too many. Gwyn stumbled as one slammed his shoulder into her, another shoving her backwards, then sideways, then back again, and forwards. She registered Azriel screaming for her again, but his voice was dim, distant somehow, a step away from the fight, from her. They were toying with her, they could have killed her with each one of those shoves, they weren't going to kill her, that's why Azriel was screaming, because he couldn't save her this time, she had to save herself. Fighting the urge to double over and heave up her guts, she closed her eyes, allowing a male to shove her forwards, towards another, but this time, this time she brought her sword up, the shocked look on his face as he glanced down to see the blade emerging from his side was enough to make her pull the sword out, reverse her grip and plunge it into the gut of a second male behind her. She smirked at a third, a sense of power rippling along her veins at the paleness of his face, the way he stepped back under her attention.
The sounds of fighting nearby had stopped. Over her shoulder, Gwyn grinned at Rhys slamming into the closet rebels, death flowing in his wake, but it was too crowded for him to unleash that deadly power, for Cassian or Azriel to use their own power except with individual opponents. He focused on her, but Gwyn gestured towards the thicker fighting,
"Help them!" She shouted, "I'm fine," and she was, for once, she really was, she didn't need Azriel to save her, or Mor, she didn't need Emerie to carry her, Nesta to stand up for her, she didn't need that, she would defend herself. Never again they'd said, never again would she be weak or vulnerable, she was strong now, and it was the males attacking her who should be afraid. Azriel and Cassian had gotten her to this point, and it was her chance to return the favor. A path cleared before her, the arc of her sword promising death to any who stepped inside it, and the rebels melted away, cut down or running she didn't care. She could see him now, could see the blood splattered across his leathers, the cobalt light flaring from his siphons, the shadows swarming in his wake. She grinned, there he was, fighting like the warrior-god he would one day be hailed as, and he was hers, she'd chosen him, and he'd chosen her. He'd saved her before, more than he realized, and now he needed her, she would not let him down. But she was still too far away, to far away to do anything but scream his name as a sword arced high in the air, the blade starting to fall, aimed to sever his wings, his beautiful wings. Tears filled her eyes at the flash of sunlight on the steel, and then darkness. One moment Rhys was across the trail, then he was there, sword flashing to fell the male threatening his brother. Gwyn heard herself let out a sob of relief, and Azriel was turning, facing Rhys with wide eyes, moving towards him as something moved, hurtling towards them, but it was too late.
Rhys hit the floor with a deafening crash, the spear protruding from his side lacking the glint of steel, and Gwyn's breath caught. Ash. They'd used ash. In another heartbeat she was beside them, Cassian still fighting to protect them, and then he was there. With the four of them together he didn't have to hold back, bathing the half mile radius in crimson light, spearing for the remaining rebels, a shield protecting them from the killing might of his power. But Gwyn hardly noticed, she just pressed her hands to Rhys' side, her breathing coming in shallow gasps now as the full weight of the fight hit her.
"Ready?" Azriel gripped the shaft of the spear, his voice unsteady, trembling, Gwyn nodded, closing her eyes against Rhys's bellow of pain as Azriel snapped the shaft off close to the base, and pulled the spearhead out. Crude, painful, but at least it wasn't barbed, hadn't splintered, nor had it penetrated too deep. It would be painful, there was no denying that, but he would heal without too much difficulty. Azriel's face was ashen, the color still drained even while he patched the wound with his own power. He stumbled backwards, not taking his eyes off Rhys, his breathing fast, too fast, a quick glance at Cassian told her that Rhys was fine for now, and she reached for Azriel.
"Az, look at me," she turned his face towards hers, holding his gaze as she pressed against him, an arm wrapping around his waist. She smiled when his own arms wrapped around her, "He's okay, I promise," a flicker of amusement in his eyes, just for a heartbeat, but it was there, all her damned promises, but she meant them, every one of them. And he needed to hear them, especially now, when that look meant that he'd disappeared into his own head, blaming himself. "You did everything right, okay, he made a choice, you can't control everything, but you helped him just now, he's going to be alright, because of you." She leaned into him a little more, relaxing when he rested his chin on her head, albeit still staring at Rhys, who, judging by the sounds was getting to his feet, grumbling about something. "I love you," she reminded him, "And so does Rhys, he's complaining," she chuckled, "He's alright," Azriel nodded, that pale, distant look gone, but his eyes were still haunted when he winnowed back home, him, not Rhys, Gwyn could almost hear the thought in his mind, and she squeezed his hand to remind him that he wasn't alone, that she was, and always would be, by his side.
They landed just outside Rhys and Feyre's bedroom, the door opening a moment later to reveal a smiling Feyre. Her face dropped the moment she saw Rhys, supported between Cassian and Azriel, the wound in his side still bleeding. She closed her eyes, taking one shuddering breath before guiding them to set him down on the bed. Azriel fixed his eyes on the floor, his gaze distant again as Feyre asked about the injury, tears in her eyes. Gwyn pulled a chair over and gently pushed him down into it, he needed something to do, to keep his mind active,
"Can you keep an eye on him? Check how he's doing?" Azriel looked up at her, but flinched away from Feyre's gaze, her attempts to reach for him, as if her touch would brand him. She stepped back, offering that space as he ran an assessing gaze over Rhys again, the tension in his shoulders easing as he set his mind to the task. "Feyre," Gwyn gestured to the door,
"What happened?" She breathed,
"He saved Azriel, winnowed into the middle of a fight, the spear was already coming, I think he knew, but Az couldn't stop it."
"A spear?"
"Yes. An ash one," Feyre gasped in a choked breath, "It was a simple spearhead, and it wasn't deep, so no splinters, he'll need to rest, but he'll be fine. I'm sorry, they knew, the plans we stole were fake, it was trap the whole time, and, I'm sorry." Feyre offered her a slight smile,
"You did nothing wrong, we all believed it was true, you brought him back,"
"He saved Azriel's life," Gwyn whispered again, her adrenaline no longer holding back her own tears as they slipped down her face. Feyre held out her arms, and Gwyn gratefully stepped towards her, "If you need anything, ever, either of you, just shout, I owe you everything."
"You owe us nothing. Besides, you saved Rhys, you brought him home, but that's what friends do, what family does, we save each other, there are no debts between family." Family. That was what they were, what they had become, she had long since considered Nesta and Emerie her sisters, but Feyre, she supposed Feyre was too. Gwyn smiled,
"You've known Az longer than me," she started and Feyre nodded, "Do you know the best way to get through to him when he's like this?"
"I've never managed to get through to him the way you do just by being there, you know he'll need time to realize that it's not his fault, but whatever I say, your instincts won't lie, I wish I could tell you exactly what to do,"
"No, it's alright, I think I know what to do, let us know when Rhys wakes up,"
"You went past it,"
"No I didn't," Gwyn kept holding onto Azriel's hand and practically dragging him through the River House. She'd been fussing ever since they'd gotten back, insisting that he have a bath, combing his hair herself. No matter that he was used to looking after himself, it was nice that she cared enough, but this, he'd assumed she wanted to go into the city, away from life for a bit, but she'd dragged him past the door to outside, and grinned back at him before pushing open a different door, to a room he'd somehow never been in.
Almost unfurnished, the sunlight streamed in from windows on three sides, and one in the ceiling, right above, right above the grand piano in the center of the room. Feyre's paintings adorned the walls, Velaris' orchestras, the theaters, the musicians playing on the streets. Gwyn led him towards the piano, towards the two stools beside it,
"We never had a second lesson," she explained, sitting on the stool slightly to the side, and Azriel obediently slid onto the other. Right in front of the piano, the keys just waiting for someone to create music, he stopped, he didn't know what to do. Before he could admit that he'd already failed, Gwyn leaned across to guide his hands, "You remember the scales? We'll start there." Scales, he did, he did remember those now that she mentioned it, and gave himself to the music as it started pouring out of the piano, simple notes at first, then, once he started using both hands, more complex, more beautiful sound filled the air, then Gwyn hummed along, his heart singing with her, even without words, that sound, it was the answer to a question he'd been asking for five and a half centuries. "You want to learn a proper song?" He nodded, somehow beyond words, "Mostly I know the songs for the Mother, but there are a few, mostly the ones my mother taught me, that speak of life outside a temple, the world. This one was always my favorite, it's about a female, a princess of an ancient kingdom, who took up her father's sword to defend their kingdom when it was threatened, and the only male who could match her in combat."
Gwyn tapped out a few notes, a simple opening, and bade Azriel to copy, going a few bars at a time, then linking them together, until he could play the whole first verse in one go,
"I'll teach you to read written music later, so you don't have to memorize the whole song, but I think you can manage one, just about," She grinned, tears in her eyes at his low chuckle, starting again, flawlessly playing through all that she'd taught him,
"You were saying?" He teased. She rolled her eyes, muttering a few words that didn't bear repeating, and moved on, one bar at a time until he could play the whole song. When he did finally play the whole thing, Gwyn's voice swirled through the air, his shadows dancing and swaying with the music. Azriel smiled, truly smiled, his attention on the female beside him, her head tilted upwards, auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders, eyes closed as she sang, a slight glow emanating from her. Somehow, it was like she was singing only to him, just for him, everything about her voice was perfect, from the way she mixed high and low notes, to the way she pronounced each word. When they reached the highest part of the song, her voice became lighter, not airy, but like the wind, free, unbound, infinite, her lower tones had reminded him of water rushing through a stream, but this, this was the sound that he was born hearing, the wind rushing through the mountains of Illyria. It had never been his home, not really, but that song, Gwyn's voice, it was a song that had been in his heart from the moment he took his first breath, the song that lifted him up each time he spread his wings. They were flaring now, he realized, the song of the wind making them move, and he let them, let them spread out behind him, his right wing slightly curving around her, her closeness intoxicating as he gave himself over to the music.