I’ve been seeing increasing takes over the past few weeks that Gwyn could never be a primary main character in an ACOTAR novel.  And it’s honestly got to the point where I have to get my thoughts out in response to this for my own sanity.  I’m officially on spring break today before my kiddos are … so I’ve got nothing but time today, friends! 🤓 If you intend to read all of this, my apologies in advance.  I think this is my longest meta post. 😅

Anyway, I’ve seen arguments stating that Gwyn is only a “side character,” that she doesn’t have “FMC energy,” or that she only exists to support Nesta’s narrative and serves no real purpose moving forward.

And I just … I don’t understand how, when taking into consideration the entire scope of ACOSF, you can look at everything we are given pertaining to Gwyn ON PAGE and disregard the groundwork that SJM is laying.  What is unique about Gwyn is that she is truly given her own starting arc within one novel—and we see it all unfold through Nesta and Cassian.

We: meet her; get to know her and her backstory; wonder about her heritage; see her importance to other established characters; and watch her growth lead into challenge … which, in turn, leads to a stark low point for her.

So, I argue that it’s disingenuous to say that Gwyn is solely in the narrative to support Nesta as a character.  While Gwyn certainly does that, she also sets an awful lot of the plot into motion and is directly tied to important narrative details moving forward.

However, more crucially, I think that some readers believe that because of how Gwyn is described in the final chapter of ACOSF (going back to the library) that her arc is now over and we will only continue to see her in a background capacity moving forward.  And I couldn’t disagree with this more. 

Gwyn’s LOW POINT IS THE POINT.  

And to put it more specifically, it’s an inflection point for her character, and it’s meant to stand out to the reader.  All that growth we saw from her?  It’s devastating to hear at the end of ACOSF that she’s lost that momentum.  My friends, that’s not an end point to her story at all … instead, it’s a starting point for what’s to come.  Gwyn is primed and ready to be a protagonist because of it.

FIRST OFF, GWYN IS NOT A SIDE CHARACTER

There seems to be some overlapping use of the terms “side character” and “secondary character,” and although I understand what most readers are getting at when they use them interchangeably, the terms actually mean different things.  

Side characters serve a more functional role … they exist to serve specific plot functions or to shine a light on aspects of the protagonist’s situation; but they have no real independent arc of their own and we don’t usually know too much about their interior life.  

Perfect examples of this: Alis and the wraith twins.  Their appearances are episodic rather than developmental, and we do not see them necessarily grow or change in ways the narrative truly tracks.

And, more crucially, nothing about “side characters” is left unresolved in a way that signals forward narrative momentum.  When side characters are absent or disappear altogether, there is no oath unfulfilled to the reader, no tension deferred, etc.  

Gwyn just doesn’t fit this description.  I’ll talk more about this to come, but her characterization and her arc are left entirely interrupted, unresolved, and deferred. That should be a flashing neon sign of an indicator that this character is more than a passing side character who only serves a functional role.

The term “secondary character” (or “supporting character”) would be a more apt description for Gwyn, which can also encompass so many great characters from all of SJM’s series, many of whom do get their own POV and protagonist spotlights.  Secondary characters are crucial to the narrative, they are consistently present, and they can influence the primary plot.  In ACOSF, you could make the argument that Gwyn is the most prominent secondary character due to her frequency, narrative weight, and crucial moments to the plot.  

One useful way to look at this is that Gwyn drives the plot through her own agency—meaning, things aren’t just happening to her.  (This is also a useful tool for examining other secondary characters who aren’t very present in ACOSF in general).

Gwyn’s arc is also the most complete in ACOSF outside of Nesta’s and Cassian’s arcs.  There is a measurable progression from one internal state to another to the final image.

And while it’s easy to argue that “Gwyn is only there to serve Nesta’s arc,” that claim completely disregards what Gwyn actually does on the page.  

A character who exists solely to serve another character’s arc does not:

Drive the plot through her own research and initiative

Introduce the central, organizing mythology of the Valkyrie training arc

Become the first Valkyrie reborn

Receive several moments of larger forces and/or fate watching her

Deliver the novel’s most thematically resonant speech about refusing the safe road

Win the Blood Rite as the first non-Illyrian

Become a Carynthian with the help of her chosen sibling (like Rhysand)

Appear in a bonus chapter in which she is the lasting image

Every single one of these things is active, not passive.  Gwyn is not a mirror held up to reflect Nesta’s growth … she is crucial to Nesta, but Gwyn is also a character whose own growth has its own trajectory, its own climactic moments, and its own (now unresolved) threads. 

GWYN IS THE POSTER CHILD FOR NARRATIVE DEFERRAL

This is, in my opinion, the biggest indicator that Gwyn’s arc has been deliberately set up, crafted, and left incomplete … to be picked up immediately within the next ACOTAR installment(s).

What do I mean by this?

Well, SJM has given us two Gwyns in direct contrast with each other … within the SAME text.  Not over the course of 4-5 novels; but within one, single novel.  To me, as a reader and someone who loves analyzing story structure and craft, this screams that Gwyn’s arc is jockeying for immediate attention.  

Within ACOSF, we get:

The Gwyn who declares she will not take the safe road, who has been broken and survived and refuses to be broken again, and who is “tired of” living the library;

And then the Gwyn who returns to the library after the Blood Rite and “might” go to her sister’s mating ceremony.

That contrast is structurally placed by the author.  SJM loves parallels, and she loves taking her protagonists to a stark low point before getting their individual stories.  If you have read CRESCENT CITY or THRONE OF GLASS, you of course know this.  Even if you haven’t, think of Feyre at the start of ACOMAF or Nesta in ACOFAS.  That’s exactly what I’m talking about.

When an author brings a character to a blazing high point and then deliberately pulls them back … and then makes sure the reader sees that pullback … it is meant to signal that we are nowhere near closure and, instead, the story is truly starting.  It is a SETUP.  It’s the narrative equivalent of drawing back a bowstring.  The tension is visible and ready to let loose, but the release hasn’t happened yet.  

This can be a form of NARRATIVE DEFERRAL in storytelling: the deliberate postponement of a character’s full resolution, signaled clearly enough that the reader/viewer understands the story is not finished and is only just paused before letting the arrow fly.  

We see this anytime a story provides enough closure to satisfy the demands of the current story’s arc while deliberately leaving visible threads unresolved.  In Gwyn’s case, the contrast between her speech at Ramiel and her eventual return to the library is too stark to be accidental, and its placement in the closing chapter is too deliberate to be anything other than an intentional setup.  The architecture of the narrative is practically screaming, “Gwyn’s story is not over!”

HOW DO WE KNOW THAT’S REALLY WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE?

Well, SJM is not the first storyteller to utilize this.  Not only can we juxtapose Gwyn’s speech before Ramiel against the final moments of ACOSF (which I’ll do momentarily) to highlight this … but this is not some unheard of literary device or narrative technique.  

Take a look at The Empire Strikes Back.  [*spoilers ahead if for any reason you are looking to go on a Star Wars journey and don’t know what happens*] The film ends with Han frozen in carbonite, the Rebellion is in retreat, and our hero (Luke) has lost his hand and received a devastating revelation about his father.  Yes, it’s a cliffhanger.  But, more importantly, the audience is given narrative deferral … tension regarding a character whose journey is now paused.  What happened to all the training Luke did up until that point?  We watched him grow and challenge himself on his path to become a Jedi before rushing off to save his friends and facing an ultimate showdown with Vader to prove how far he has come … only to then be deliberately pulled back to his lowest point.  

The low point is the point.  The external plot of the film is wrapped up for now (of course there are lingering issues to address); but the final moments of the story are focused on Luke and the emotional promises and character threads for him that are left wholly unfinished and paused.  

We also see this at the end of Volume II of The Lord of the Rings.  [*LOTR spoiler ahead if you don’t want to know what happens*] At the end of The Two Towers, we end with Frodo captured by Shelob and Sam believing him dead.  It’s a devastating false ending, as the protagonist appears to have failed at a critical moment and his companion (one of literature’s greatest “secondary characters” by the way) is alone and overwhelmed.  Tolkien ends the volume here deliberately because he understood the deepest narrative tension is not generated by action, but by the space between a character’s lowest point and their eventual emergence from it.  The reader then carries that weight into the next volume.

I argue that Gwyn returning to the library at the end of ACOSF is SJM creating that same weight for her readers that they must carry immediately into the next book(s) … the image that sits with you and refuses to feel finished if you are truly invested in that character and consider how different she ends up compared to how we saw her earlier on with her sisters, at training, and (most crucially) at Ramiel.

GWYN’S SPEECH AS A CHARACTER PROMISE

Gwyn’s tense moment at Ramiel with Nesta and Emerie, and her speech that comes before she describes what happened to her at Sangravah, is arguably the most significant piece of character writing that SJM gives Gwyn (which says something because Gwyn has multiple notable moments).  So, it’s worth treating it with the same close attention we’d give any pivotal textual moment.

In that case, I decided to treat it like any pivotal textual excerpt that I would use in the classroom.  I wanted to isolate it for annotation and closer reading … but I also wanted to juxtapose it with the final moments of ACOSF which show us where Gwyn ends up at her low point.  This is exactly what I do with my students to draw special attention to specific patterns or parallels that the author is making, so I think it’s a worthwhile (and fun to me, at least) exercise to engage in where Gwyn is concerned. 

I’ll include that close reading annotation below, but by putting these two moments side-by-side, we see that they are in stark contrast … if it wasn’t clear to a reader on an initial reading, it should become evident when placed together.  Even if you gave this close reading excerpt below to someone who has not read any ACOTAR books and who has no context, they should be able come to similar conclusions: Gwyn’s character has been pulled back (on page), and all her progress and declarations seem lost—she is at a low point; the bowstring has been pulled.  Her progress has been intentionally deferred, but not ended.  

And, ultimately, this should raise immediate questions for the reader, especially after reading hundreds of pages where you witness that character’s growth.

Why is she going back to the library?

What is wrong?

What do you mean she’s not even sure she’s going to her sister’s mating ceremony?

Will Gwyn be able to fix this?

Again, there should be flashing neon lights here because it is so jarring.

Here’s what I mean:

On the left, Gwyn is articulating a personal philosophy and a promise.

“I have been broken once before . . .  I survived it.  And I will not be broken again.”

This is not the language of a character whose story is over, even before we get to the final chapter of ACOSF.  This is an oath.  In narrative terms, a character who makes an oath (especially one this explicitly worded and this hard-won) is a character whose story is being opened, and not closed.  The oath is a promise to the reader as much as it is to herself.

So when we get to the right-side of the excerpt, and we hear that Gwyn returns to the library despite saying she’s “tired of it” … we immediately should remember her words at Ramiel.  These narrative details are in direct opposition of each other.  

The character who declared she would not take the safe road is doing exactly that.  In the final moments of the novel, we find out that she is back in the safest place she knows.  It’s a devastating relapse into a pattern she not so long before explicitly rejected.

It feels like the promise has been left behind … Gwyn’s promise to herself; Gwyn’s promise to her sisters; and Gwyn’s promise to the reader.

Gwyn’s oath is witnessed by Nesta and Emerie, as well as garnering the attention of something larger as the wind also was “whispering, murmuring” as Gwyn spoke.  The promise is specific and names her wound directly … it’s also precise enough that the reader can hold her to it.

So when we learn Gwyn is returning to the library, we understand that she isn’t meeting that promise.  Something has gone wrong.  I wouldn’t argue that she is breaking it, necessarily … or even forgetting it.  But as she processes the Blood Rite and possibly all the ways that trauma could be reasserting itself, she returns to what feels safe, even if it is in opposition to that promise.  And I think this is doing something really interesting in three different ways:

At the character level: SJM is showing us something about how transformation actually works.  It’s usually not linear, and the most important growth a person can do is not often the dramatic breakthrough, but the quieter work of integrating that breakthrough into who they are.  Gwyn has had the big moment, but the rest of that internal journey needs to come.  That is her remaining story, and I cannot fathom that an author would introduce that and not see it through … otherwise, what’s the point?

At the plot level: SJM is creating conditions for a FMC’s opening situation in a future book.  We know that she loves throwing those characters into holes (Feyre trapped; Nesta self-destructing).  The library at the end of ACOSF is Gwyn’s hole, and it’s where her story will begin in earnest.  It also gives Gwyn a future internal arc that has precise emotional stakes.  She is going to have to climb Ramiel again … not literally, but she’s going to have to ask herself the same questions again: Is it living, though? To take the safe road?

At the reader level: SJM is generating a specific emotion that’s a powerful tool in a storyteller’s tool belt.  Although like a cliffhanger, it’s something a bit more resonant … a longing for a promise you witnessed being made that you need to see kept.  Sam’s promise to Frodo.  Luke’s promise to Obi-Wan and to himself.  The reader was there at Ramiel with Gwyn and heard the wind murmur.  The reader watched Gwyn choose the unclimbable path and fight for it with her sisters.  And now the reader is left with a final image of her sitting in the library and is thinking, You said you were done with the safe road.  You said it. That feeling of seeing a character not fulfill their own declared potential is a universal part of a hero’s journey.  Storytellers use it intentionally, and I believe that’s exactly what we’re seeing here. 

FINAL THOUGHTS

If we strip away all the analysis and craft terminology and just ask: What is SJM communicating to her reader with this final image of Gwyn?

The answer is this: SJM is saying that Gwyn’s most important journey has not happened yet.

There is too big of a gap between the first Valkyrie reborn, the oath at Ramiel, the Blood Rite won … and the retreated version of this same character.  That gap is SJM communicating with the reader that the story is coming.

And Gwyn’s own question at Ramiel is not going anywhere.  In fact, I think it’s likely the thesis of her own arc in her forthcoming book(s):

Is it living, though?  To take the safe road?

I’ve been seeing a lot of discussions about which characters are associated with musical imagery in ACOTAR. While I was excited to see SJM use 💖🎶💖 in her instagram announcement post, I wasn’t necessarily surprised … and the same goes for the leak which seems to indicate that the title page of ACOTAR 6 labels the text as “A Book in Four Movements” … clearly a poetic use of musical language to illustrate her “one book told in four parts” approach to what’s coming. 

There have been a lot of takes about what this might mean. Yes, the mating bond has been described as the music between souls; so perhaps the romantic plots will focus on multiple mated couples in these next installments. Or perhaps we’ll be focusing on characters and a plot which deal directly with music. We already know that Nesta has deep, constitutive ties to music. That thread was woven all throughout her novel. Music is the emotional language of her ACOSF arc, from its beginning to its resolution. 

Beyond Nesta, the text has also shown us on page that the other two characters who are specifically tied to music are Azriel and Gwyn. This was made explicit in the most recent ACOTAR book and in SJM’s most recent book (HOFAS). This is where SJM’s clear authorial intention is at most recently.

This is all great, and I love exploring these ideas and hearing others talk about where this might lead as we learn more in the coming months. But there’s one detail that I don’t think is being discussed enough amid all of this:

The musical imagery surrounding the Valkyries as a unit.

Not necessarily Gwyn or Nesta individually (since they both have such clear individual musical imagery associations), but the three Valkyries together as a collective whose formation, bonding, training, survival, and defining moments are consistently and repeatedly described in musical terms.

THE FIRST NOTES: Gwyn’s Voice

Across the hushed, cavernous space, it was easy to hear Gwyn’s soft singing as she flitted from table to table . . . Nesta allowed herself to listen—to savor the pure, sweet voice that rose and fell with sinuous ease.

This is one of the earliest moments between Nesta and Gwyn. They are not yet friends, but Nesta (who is allowing almost nothing to reach her in this point of her story) stops and allows herself to listen. Savors Gwyn’s voice, actually. It seems as if Gwyn’s voice might actually be breaking through Nesta’s armor before anything else does.

Then, as their early acquaintance grows and as Nesta begins to notice Gwyn more, we get this:

Occasionally, Nesta heard a lovely, soaring snippet of song from some distant corner of the library—the sole indicator that Gwyn was near.

I love this. The sole indicator that Gwyn was near.

On the surface, it’s simply a description of the setting and Nesta’s observations. But I’d argue it’s establishing Nesta’s awareness of Gwyn’s presence … her nearness. And it’s registered musically. Before Nesta can even see her, the sound arrives first, because Nesta has now learned to recognize it.

Perhaps this is the beginning of attunement between sisters: one person learning the specific signature of another, but through musical terms. 

Basically, what I’m getting at, is that in the early days of what will become a significant bond among these females, music is already the language through which Gwyn reaches Nesta … and in which Nesta allows herself to be reached. The foundation of the Valkyrie sisterhood is being laid here, in song.

THE SECOND MOVEMENT: The Foundation Deepens

By the time Nesta asks about attending the evening service, something has started to shift after the appearance of the ribbon as part of the Valkyries’ training. That foundation, built by early trust and offers of friendship, solidifies when Nesta chooses to be vulnerable about what she needs: music.

“It’s a long story, and not one worth telling, but through it all, I picked taverns and pleasure halls to frequent because of the music. I’ve always loved music.” She braced herself for the damning judgment. But only sorrow filled Gwyn’s face. . . . “The drinking, the males—I don’t miss any of it. But the music … that I miss.” Nesta waved a hand, as if she could banish the vulnerability she’d offered up. . . . “I was hoping you meant it when you said I could come to one of your services. Just so I can hear some music again.”

Nesta braces for judgment; but she gets this instead:

“Your story is worth telling, you know.” . . . “It is. But yes—if you want music, then come to the services. We will be glad to have you. I will be glad to have you.” . . . “Come to the service this evening,” Gwyn said. “Listen to the music.” She squeezed her hand again. “You’ll always be welcome to join me, Nesta.” Nesta hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear it. She squeezed Gwyn’s hand back.

This is after Nesta stopped to savor Gwyn’s voice in the library, after the ribbon has been set up, and after these females are beginning to understand what they are trying to build together. And Gwyn is showing here that she is unafraid of Nesta and Nesta’s past, and she offers an invitation to Nesta. The bond forming between them strengthens because of this invitation made in music.

Gwyn is offering Nesta an opportunity to hear music, yes. But she’s also offering Nesta the sound of her presence and the knowledge of being welcomed without condition. Nesta hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear it.

MUSIC-FILLED COMPANIONSHIP: The Bracelets

After Solstice, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie make friendship bracelets together:

They worked in music-filled companionship, idle chatter bouncing between them, Emerie and Gwyn occasionally laughing at Nesta’s awful workmanship. “Now,” Gwyn said when they were halfway through, “we make wishes for each other.” . . .  “Wait,” Nesta said, catching Gwyn’s hand before it could touch the charm. . . .  “Let me make a wish for all of us,” she explained, gathering the three charms. A small gift—for the friends who had become like sisters. A chosen family. Like the one Feyre had found for herself.

The Symphonia is playing here and music fills the space while their sisterhood is sealed in it. Nesta gathers all three charms and makes a wish for the three of them: for courage and for finding their way back to each other, no matter what. And then Nesta “could have sworn the coins glowed faintly.”

As we then remember that image of the bonding, and the bracelets, and magic of the charms … we can hold it against this moment, during the Blood Rite:

Emerie shuddered. “The Mother watched over us.” Nesta could have sworn the charms on their bracelets let out a soft, singing hum at that.

The physical symbols of their sisterhood, the objects they made together in music-filled companionship, sing. And not only do they sing, but they sing at the moment of their greatest trial and at the moment the Mother watches over them.

Even the objects representing their bond are musically alive. A super intentional choice, if you ask me.

THE HOUSE SINGS

Although a small detail, it’s one that I didn’t want to gloss over or leave out. The House of Wind … where Nesta lives, where Gwyn lives and works in the library below, where the three Valkyries train together, where they have sleepovers and read romance novels and become sisters … has been transformed.

In fact, Amren even notices it:

Amren’s eyes became lined with silver, a hint of how they had once been. “I went poking about the House when we arrived an hour ago. I saw what you did to this place.” Nesta’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t changed anything. Amren grabbed Nesta under the shoulder, hauling her up. “The House sings. I can hear it in the stone. And when I spoke to it, it answered. Granted, it gave me a pile of romance novels by the end of it, but … you caused this House to come alive, girl.”

The space the Valkyries inhabit together sings. It’s been made musically alive by what is being built within it, by Nesta … and her chosen sisters share in that space with her. We are not shown this happening for any other grouping of characters in the novel. The House of Wind, specifically the place where these women are becoming who they are meant to be, sings.

THE BODY & THE WIND BECOME A SONG

Cassian describes what it feels like when movement is truly right:

But he knew she [Nesta] liked the punches. The kicks. A light shone in her face as her body flowed through the motions, a slingshot of strength all narrowing to a point of impact. He’d always felt that way when he did the movements correctly, like his body and mind and soul had lined up and begun singing.

I love this so much, the idea of body, mind, and soul singing together … especially because SJM returns to this language at a significant moment in the Valkyrie arc in ACOSF.

It is Gwyn who uncovers the history of the Valkyries and brings it to the group. Her research, knowledge, and initiative gives their training a deeper purpose and new direction. And when Nesta proposes combining Valkyrie and Illyrian techniques, something that makes fate seem to sit up and pay attention, what they are reaching for is exactly what Cassian describes above.

And then Gwyn eventually steps up to the ribbon:

Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved. Smooth as the Sidra, swift as the wind off the Illyrian Mountains, her entire body working in singing harmony, Gwyn lunged toward the ribbon, twirled, and as she spun, her arm opened up, executing a perfect backhanded slice that cut the winter morning itself. Half the ribbon fluttered to the red stone.

Her entire body working in singing harmony.

This is what Cassian was describing, and this is what alignment of body, mind, and soul produces … it’s not just a technically correct movement that cuts a ribbon, but something that sings. The language that SJM uses here at the moment Gwyn becomes the first Valkyrie reborn is the same language she uses to describe what perfect movement feels like from inside it: articulated by the trainer and embodied by the Valkyrie student.

And then at Ramiel, exhausted, injured, helping each other up a nearly unclimbable mountain, the three Valkyries find it again:

“We’re winning this fucking thing,” Nesta said, bending to grab Gwyn’s legs. Teeth gritted, Nesta hoisted Gwyn onto her back. The muscles in her thighs strained, but held. Her knees did not buckle. Her gaze lay on the terrain ahead. She would not look behind. So Nesta began to climb, Emerie limping beside her. With the wind as their song, Nesta and Emerie found their rhythm. They climbed, squeezing and slitering and hauling their weight. As the males fell behind, like the mountain was silently whispering, Go, go, go.

The wind becomes their song, the mountain whispers, and larger forces are watching and urging them forward. The alignment that Cassian described (body, mind, soul) is here expressed collectively amongst the Valkyries as the three of them find their rhythm together and move as a unit.

SJM doesn’t utilize this language by accident, because it becomes clear that this is the language she has established for what it looks like when the Valkyries are most fully themselves (individually and together) … the body, mind, and soul line up and begin to sing, often times when the Mother or larger forces also seem to be watching them.

FINAL THOUGHTS

SJM uses music as core thematic language of Valkyrie identity: their formation begins in music, their bond is built in music-filled companionship, their physical symbols hum, their home sings, their training sings when it aligns, and the wind is their song. On top of this, their defining moments as Valkyries (the ribbon, Ramiel) are described in musical terms.

So, am I saying that the 💖🎶💖 and the “Book in Four Movements” language is about the Valkyries? Maybe? Yes and No. 

What I primarily want to get at is that if we are going to have a conversation about which characters carry musical imagery in ACOTAR, then the Valkyries as a unit deserve to be part of it. The text puts them there repeatedly, deliberately, and at their most significant moments.

I’ve said many times (and I continue to believe) that SJM is not finished with the Valkyries. The amount of careful, deliberate intent put into building this group in ACOSF doesn’t exist to be tidied away as a background detail in future installments, in my opinion. 

Why? Because Gwyn returns to the library with her oath at Ramiel deferred and her story’s bowstring pulled back. Emerie becomes the first Illyrian female winner of the Blood Rite. Nesta’s romantic arc may have been completed, but we see in HOFAS that her contributions to the overall story are not over. These are the opposite of conclusions.

Now that the end of my school year is winding down, I wanted to write about something that’s been clanging around in my brain the last few weeks:

WANT vs. NEED (one of the first rules of story)

Here is something I tell my students early in every school year, because it’s the first structural story concept that truly clicked for me a long time ago as both a reader and a writer: 

The most compelling stories are never really about what a character WANTS. They are about the gap between what a character WANTS and what they actually NEED … and the long, usually painful, frequently humbling journey of closing that gap.

A character’s WANT is immediate, and it’s shaped by their wounds, blind spots, ego, and fears. That WANT feels true to them because it’s a direct expression of who they currently are. 

But a character’s NEED is something much deeper. At the end of the day (or the story), it’s what they must become in order to be fully themselves.

Unfortunately for the characters, more often than not, the WANT is standing directly in the way of the NEED. 

I honestly love this so much, and I love thinking about this with nearly every book I read. This distinction is the engine of almost every great story ever told. And, I would argue, this is also the engine running quietly beneath everything SJM has been building in Azriel’s arc across ACOFAS, ACOSF, HOSAB, and HOFAS. 

But first, before we get there … let’s talk about George Wickham. 🙂

THE FALSE SPARK

I just recently ended my Pride and Prejudice unit with my senior students, and we spent a ton of time talking about a topic that applies directly to Azriel (and Elain and Gwyn), as well as to the concept of WANT vs. NEED: ROMANTIC MISDIRECTION … otherwise known as: “The False Spark”

The concept of a misleading romantic connection can often set emotional stakes, deepen characterization, and further the plot. In P&P, before we get to the Pemberley visit with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and the final romantic resolutions between Elizabeth and Darcy, we confront an illusion:

Our sharp-witted heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, meets George Wickham. He’s charming, attentive … oh, and by the way, perfectly tailored to her biases. He tells her exactly the story she most wants to hear. 

But, sadly, it isn’t love. I think projection is probably the better description for it. It’s Elizabeth’s wounded pride softened by an added dash of sideburns and good humor. 

Ultimately, Wickham is this quintessential false spark, a relationship built on misunderstanding, ego, and fantasy. (*ahem, ahem*) 🙂

Wickham offers Elizabeth an emotional support that feels right in the moment (to her), but it collapses under truth, self-examination, and personal growth. (*AHEM!!*) 😂

So, essentially, what I’m trying to say is this:

Romantic misdirection exists to ultimately reveal a character’s internal blind spots. This, in turn, spurs that character into motion so they are then able to go on a journey of self-reflection and growth.

For instance: Wickham is a classic red herring. He flatters Elizabeth’s prejudices, appealing to her wit and independence. But, as we discover, he’s hollow. His charm exposes what Elizabeth thinks she wants in a man.

This is Elizabeth’s WANT … I’d argue she only really wants what he represents, which is the satisfaction of being seen by someone charming enough to be worth seeing. 

But, what she NEEDS is someone far more demanding, who will not let her remain comfortable and who will require her to grow. But we’ll come back to him. 🙂

THE “WICKHAM THREAD”

While dissecting this in my classes, my students started calling this the “Wickham Thread,” because they began pulling the thread of this idea from P&P and making connections to other stories (I love when that happens!). 

One example that we spent some time talking about was from The Lord of the Rings (spoilers ahead). Éowyn’s infatuation with Aragorn is arguably steeped in a similar projection: she loves what he represents, like freedom and an escape from fear and her cage of Rohan. It becomes clear that she does not love the man himself. She has great admiration for him and his heroic path (there’s arguably a strong sense of hero-worshipping happening here). But Aragorn is ultimately a symbol to her, and you cannot build a genuine relationship with a symbol. (*continued throat clearing, lol*😅)

When Éowyn finally meets Faramir, the tone shifts entirely, and her earlier connection with Aragorn is revealed as a misdirection. It stands clearly as a reflection of her yearning for valor and freedom rather than genuine recognition between two people. It was an infatuation. Faramir does not represent anything to Éowyn; he simply just sees her. He meets her at her lowest point and finds something to connect to as he interacts with her as an equal. (*I MEAN COME ON, PEOPLE*💀)

Aragorn was what she WANTED. Faramir is what she NEEDED.

And this pattern is everywhere over recent years too. For those of us old enough to remember the Twilight series as the movies were released, the marketing machine built an entire cultural phenomenon around TEAM EDWARD vs. TEAM JACOB, leaning hard into the “who will Bella choose?” tension. But, let’s be real … Bella was never truly going to choose Jacob; and the text beneath it always supported that fact. Jacob is the false spark and the misdirection: he offers warmth, familiarity, and a version of normal that Bella finds deeply appealing at one point. Edward, for better or worse, is the need.

And, as my students pointed out with great enthusiasm, the same pattern plays out in The Summer I Turned Pretty (spoilers ahead). The show amplified the Jeremiah question, because “who will Belly choose?” is commercially irresistible. But Conrad, again, was always the answer to something that was never actually in question and when faced with the idea of what Belly WANTS vs. what Belly NEEDS. 

What all of these examples underscore (Wickham, Aragorn, Jacob, Jeremiah) is this fact:

The false spark is always perfectly shaped to who the character CURRENTLY is; and the true pairing always requires the character to GROW beyond that current self.

As I mentioned to my students as we looked at P&P:

The False Spark = a mirror

The True Pairing = a door

WHY DOES THIS TROPE EXIST?

I have to say that I really, to the deepest part of my soul, absolutely hate when a large story gets overshadowed by a “WHO WILL THEY CHOOSE????” question if a romance is involved. I can’t stand it. And I hate that ACOTAR as a fandom has allowed this discourse to perpetuate, especially when the series itself has SO. MUCH. PLOT. to address.

What has happened, I think, is that many readers across the board (not just with ACOTAR) in recent years have misunderstood what these romantic misdirections and false sparks are meant to do. For example, we are meant as readers to look at Azriel at his low point in his bonus chapter and understand that during his interactions with Elain, he is being faced with a mirror and not a door. We are meant to scream at the character: this is the wrong direction!!! But, unfortunately, it gets misconstrued as something romantic.

SJM is not the first author to utilize this tactic, which is supposed to serve a very specific purpose. So why do so many stories, from Austen to Tolkien to Jenny Han, offer a false spark before the real one?

Because the author is trying to show readers that the character has NO IDEA what they NEED. They only know what they WANT.

This then sets that character arc off on a trajectory of rapid growth. 

That WANT is shaped by the character’s wounds, blind spots, and the version of themselves they’ve constructed to survive (*ding! ding! ding!*)  It exists to show the reader … and then eventually the character … exactly where the blind spots are.

Wickham doesn’t just reveal that Elizabeth has poor judgment in one instance. Instead, he reveals the shape of her pride (how she loves to be right, how flattery dressed as candor gets by her defenses, etc.). Without Wickham, Elizabeth never has to confront that about herself. 

Similarly, without Elain, Azriel never has to confront his blind spots. His interactions with her reveal them.

Without that false spark, the character never has to “clean the windshield.”

We call this the “dirty windshield problem” in my classroom. A character thinks they can see where they are going clearly enough. They think they know what they want and why. But their view is obstructed in some way.

For example, Elizabeth Bennet thought she could see “well enough” where she was going; but she didn’t realize how obstructed her view really was until she started to clean the windshield properly by undergoing this process of self-reflection and growth … and in that process, she ultimately comes to terms with what led to her prior choices and opinions. She sees her destination and Darcy clearly then. Wickham, in other words, is the false signal before the real transmission comes through.

That obstruction can take the shape of ego, fear, self-doubt, trauma, wounds not yet examined, etc. The thing is, the character does not fully realize it until something forces them to look directly at the glass as they are trying to move forward.

THE FALSE SPARK IS WHAT OFTEN FORCES THEM TO LOOK.

Then, the character is left standing in front of a windshield they can no longer pretend is as clean as they once thought it to be.

BUT DOESN’T THIS MEAN GWYN COULD BE AZRIEL’S FALSE SPARK??

No. In my opinion, it doesn’t. Because romantic misdirection has specific, identifiable characteristics (which we've just established).

Azriel’s pull toward Elain is explicitly built on the logic of symmetry: his two brothers are mated to two of the three sisters; therefore, “the third” should be his. He is not drawn to Elain as a specific person whose particular qualities he recognizes and responds to. His POV makes this very clear—he has nothing beyond the superficial to say about her, admits there has only ever been glances and finger brushing, states he has never thought about a future with her, and realizes he was right to stay away from her. He is drawn to the concept of her as the answer to a math equation. That is textbook false spark construction: attraction to an idea, rather than a person.

Also, every moment of Azriel’s interiority in relation to Elain is coded in wrongness ... he even uses the word himself. Again, we’re dealing with a mirror and not an open door toward growth. This interaction and false spark with Elain produces shame, self-loathing, and emptiness. He fixates on his hands and ends the encounter in a cold rage. Compare this to his interiority in the second half of the chapter, which produces ease, warmth, laughter, his shadows settling, and a buried image of Gwyn that glows. He is focused on a person here; not some idea.

AZRIEL AND THE FALSE SPARK

Azriel is our Elizabeth and Éowyn. His windshield is in desperate need of cleaning much like those characters, and he has been operating under the sincere belief that he can see “well enough” for now.

Much like Wickham, I contend that Elain is a red herring when it comes to Azriel’s romantic arc, and I’ve thought this since ACOFAS was first published in 2018. It stood out to me right away because the narrative has been intentional about communicating this framework and how the trope is used.

Why have I believed this for 8 years? Because Elain is perfectly calibrated to Azriel’s current self, specifically to his wounds (Azriel has that glass shard stuck inside in the shape of abandonment issues, physical trauma, and a need to protect stemming from his mother). From Azriel's standpoint, Elain is gentle, seemingly in need of protection, and positioned by narrative circumstance as the symmetrical answer to his longing. She appeals to the part of him that has spent centuries wondering if the Mother deems him worthy. My guy constructed this math equation with Elain rather than examine why belonging has always felt out of reach for him.

Elain flatters his WANT without challenging his NEED. She is the reflection … not the door. 

And the bonus chapter makes this devastatingly clear by showing the reader exactly what each relationship produces in Azriel. The Elain encounter ends in frost, in rage, in nothing at all. Rhys intervenes. Azriel himself calls it a mistake. The narrative corrects it before it can complete itself, like it often does in romance stories or arcs where this pattern appears.

FINAL THOUGHTS

So why Darcy and not Wickham? Why Faramir and not Aragorn? Why Gwyn and not Elain?

Because the true pairing does not confirm; instead it challenges. It must ask the character to grow beyond who they currently are … and it does that by seeing the character clearly (the person underneath).

Darcy sees Elizabeth. Not just the wit and deflections, but the person who has been hiding behind them. And Elizabeth, in his presence, is eventually required by the narrative to see herself: the one who was wrong, and proud, and capable of being better. Darcy doesn’t let her remain comfortable in her self-image.

And Gwyn sees Azriel, not the Shadowsinger (I’ve written about this theme specifically in great detail before). She is not a mirror reflecting his desires back at him. Rather, she is entirely herself in his presence … and in that selfhood, she gives Azriel permission to be entirely himself in return. How do we know this? Because his shadows dance and settle, his self-loathing disappears, warmth and humor emerge. Azriel’s metaphorical armor comes off, and he does not scramble to replace it. This will ultimately require Azriel to self-reflect and grow.

And I focus here on Azriel because he’s the POV we get; but it’s clear that Azriel sees Gwyn too. He sees past her trauma and instead sees who she is becoming. Again, the text tells us this—this is not just my wishful thinking.

These are intentional juxtapositions against the false spark.