#shadowsinger acotar

[renehart13657]

I just need Gwyn telling Az the bond snapped for her the first moment she saw him. And him realizing how loved he already is.

[cacalowee]

𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 | 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1 | 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔

azriel x rhysand's sister [ y/n ]

synopsis : azriel finds a silent soldier spying on the high lord and lady on the night of their new moon festival

warnings : drinking, implication of torture

word count : 1,401 words

notes : ok i know this isn't the best rn and I'm not sure if i got azriel's character completely right, but hopefully it improves with time :)) [ and i swear the next chapter will be longer, i just needed to establish the meeting part ]

azriel's pov

The festive music danced around the large cavern alongside the well-dressed fae. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of bodies moved in a synchronous dance as faeries twirled and jumped on the floor below the High Lord and Lady. Azriel could see Nesta and Cassian slipping in and out of the crowd, the darkly dressed female spinning gracefully around his brother.

He leaned back against the cool stone walls of the Court of Nightmares, his eyes peeking over the rim of his wine glass as he surveyed the dance.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Elain and Mor sitting near the two massive thrones perched on a high stone ledge occupied by the High Lord and Lady, baby Nyx bouncing on Mor's thigh.

Rhysand and Feyre were both lounging comfortably, watching the writhing throng of bodies moving to the lilting music of the night.

Azriel took another gulp of wine before he started his way to the drink's table. His shadows dispersed as he walked closer to the center of the room, the bright fae lights set right above the refreshments scaring the dark wisps away. He barely gave the order to keep watch of anything suspicious when he saw his shadows gather towards the edges of the room. Listening—always listening.

He made to pour himself another glass of wine when a booming laugh sounded behind him. Without turning around, Azriel knew who it was.

"Why don't you join us, brother?" Cassian asked, half-drunk already.

Azriel waited until his glass was full before turning to face Cassian and Nesta. "And dance by myself?"

"Dance with me," Cassian offered, his words slightly slurred by the wine making its way through his system.

"I'm good," he responded. "I would rather not be stepped on."

Cassian chuckled, "I won't step on you. I'm a good dancer." Nesta, slightly behind Cassian, shook her head with a smirk. Azriel smiled. It wouldn't hurt to dance . . .

Rhysand came up behind Azriel and clapped him on the back. "Another drink?" he questioned.

"I need to catch up to Cassian. And leave you to be the only sober one. You're welcome," Azriel retorted and Rhys snorted a laugh.

"Unfortunately, after tonight, I don't think any of us will be sober," Rhys said, knocking back a whole glass of wine. Feyre smacked his arm playfully, a wicked grin on her face.

"I'm still ahead by two glasses," she said, smirking.

"You're letting Feyre beat you?" Cassian asked, his mouth gaping open. He let out a dramatic gasp.

Rhys rolled his eyes, "She just got cleared to drink by Madja last week. I expected competition." Feyre laughed and slung an arm over Nesta. They both swayed gently to the music still floating around the room, and Azriel had to admit, the musicians were talented. Exceptionally talented.

Azriel felt a tug towards one end of the cavernous room and saw one of his shadows darting in between dancing figures, trying to get to him. He stepped closer to the crowd, his shadow just out of reach.

The dark wisp shot out of the horde of faeries and curled over his ear. Its rushed song was almost drowned out by the orchestra, but Azriel faintly made out its message and quickly stalked toward the two large thrones.

"Az, what is it—"

The shadow repeated its message over and over, other tendrils of darkness drifting over to deliver the same thing.

Spy.

Azriel continued past the thrones, past the ledge, and walked right up to a dark alcove in the wall, partially covered by a red banner hanging on the wall. Keir's own symbol.

"Who are you?" he asked coldly, letting his voice lure the spy out of their hiding spot.

There was no response, so Azriel willed his shadows to part the darkness of the little nook. Pressed up against the wall was a female, her purple eyes glaring at him as she whipped out a dagger.

He quickly blocked her thrust with his arm and knocked the weapon out of her hands.

"Who are you?" he repeated, knowing it was the last time he would ask before he whisked her away to his interrogation room.

"I have a better question," she retorted, her other arm snaking behind her to pull out and aim another dagger at him.

He rolled his eyes and grasped onto her arm before letting his shadows take him In Between. She struggled under his grip, but the darkness parted for them as they reappeared in a stone room.

"How'd—you're the Shadowsinger," she said, as if that simple act of winnowing with shadows had given away his identity. Maybe it had, honestly, he didn't really care.

He ignored her and repeated his first and only question. The only response he got was a sharp glare. Fine. It's going to be that way. Azriel draped his shadows over the female as he walked around her, surveying the way she held herself, the way she stood, the way she dressed.

She had long, dark hair that curled slightly over her shoulders and light brown skin that seemed to glow under the dim fae lights. That was all normal—even familiar. But the most peculiar thing about her was her dark violet eyes. They were the same hue as Rhys' and he knew that was no coincidence.

She could pass as someone from Prythian were it not for the way she dressed. She wore a tan tunic, one belonging to the continent, yet she also wore the signature loose brown pants the peasants of Hybern wore.

"Who. Are. You?" he asked once again. He was being lenient, he hoped she knew that. Knew that the Shadowsinger never left any questions unanswered, no matter what.

All he received was a blank stare.

He kept his face impassive as he stopped his torturous cycle around her, letting her tilt her head to meet his eyes.

He blinked at her and she blinked back.

Az. Azriel, where the heck are you?

He sighed and stepped away from the female as he focused his attention on returning Rhys' mental call. I'm with someone right now. He hoped that got the message through, but if not, he added, I'm busy.

Ah, sorry for interrupting, brother.

There was a hint of teasing in Rhys' tone and Azriel huffed out a laugh. Not like that, Rhys.

Then, busy how?

I found someone spying on us at the party. I thought I'd bring her in.

There was a slight pause before Rhys' voice sobered up. Are you at Moonshift?

Azriel glanced at the female watching him carefully. Yeah. Why do you ask? But he already knew the answer. Rhys wanted to know who was stalking him at his own party. So he would be coming here.

"What are you doing?" the female asked.

"Communicating," he replied blandly as he refocused in on Rhys. When are yo—

"How? Your shadows?" she questioned, slightly straining to one side to catch a glimpse of his face. He motioned for his shadows to restrict her movement. He heard her huff out a breath and the ruffle of clothes—like she was still moving against her shadow-bonds. "Who are you talking to?" He continued ignoring her.

Az, watch out.

He subconsciously stepped to the side as he rechecked his siphons and turned to face the spy.

There was a loud crack of power as Rhys winnowed directly into the room, a cloud of night surrounding him like an aura of godly power. The female visibly flinched while Azriel's face remained as impassive as ever.

Rhys smoothed out his suit and gave a brisk nod to Azriel before focusing his attention on the female, scanning every inch of her, his breaths quickening.

"Rhys?" Azriel asked, some of his shadows darting away from the swarm to help their High Lord.

"I—" his brother muttered breathlessly, staring in wild disbelief at the female currently entangled in Azriel's shadows. "She—" Rhys took a deep breath and swallowed hard, his eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

"Is he ok?" the female muttered as she watched Rhys fall to his knees.

"Cierra?" he asked and Azriel felt his heart drop as he reexamined the female before him. Nothing stood out to him except for those unique violet-hued eyes that were the exact match to the ones watching him in shock.

Cierra, my sister, Rhys said directly into Azriel's mind.

→ chapter 2 || violet dreams masterlist || complete masterlist

taglist : @sassybluebird ,, @starrstrucked

[ughthatimagineblog]

another world | preview

azriel x reader

requested:  Hey, I saw you were doing requests for azriel in ACOTAR and I've been having a lot of Azriel feels lately and was wondering if you could an Azriel x reader where the reader has come from this world and has read the books and is all like ??? and finds the Inner Circle to ask for help to get home and then her and Az fall in love and are mates and it's quite angsty because he can't leave his family but she can't stay but then she gets turned into Fae somehow and happy ending eventually. Is that ok?

word count: 966

warnings: literally none i think other than cursing in the authors note and ofc covid19,,, but be cautious

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing something long/for azriel again after a long time so im sorry if it’s shite and short. its also kinda just the preview. i needed something to get the ball rolling and the plot is so,,, detailed i couldnt just start from fuckall so here this flaming pile of garbage is. PS I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT I MIGHT BE SELLING ARTWORK SOON. ill be posting a few of my works and if people become interested in asking for commissions ill be glad to sell. i dont have a job currently and its hard to get one b/c of COVID19 so this is kinda a last ditch resort so.. anywho. love yall and youll see anya’s art soon-ish. in the next two weeks hopefully. anyways please enjoy

      Crap. That's all you could think as the pounding in your head made it impossible to truly come up with any other coherent thoughts. The light that poured through the windows of the unfamiliar house burned your eyes and the bed you now laid on was stiff and old. You were nowhere near home. Reaching for your phone in your pockets you cursed yourself, and your friends, for allowing you to drink so much. It seems that you had gotten so drunk, you’d landed yourself in thirteenth century England, or whatever the hell. Of course realistically this wasn’t true but wherever the hell you were, it seemed as though the person who lived here hadn’t been ‘with the times’ so to speak.       A second assessment of your surroundings just confirmed that thought. The wood beneath your feet was old and looked worn and rotten. The bed is equally worn with no entertainment devices in sight. It seemed to be a studio, however you had been convinced it was a house, but alas, there was a wash station and a kitchen table no less than thirty feet from where you sat. Of course, no one was anywhere to be seen and to top it all off, your phone had no signal. None. It was even as if the section at the top left was blank which was completely abnormal. And you would have more time to question it if it weren’t for the front door clamoring open and a tall figure emerge through the doorway.

       “Oh good, you’re awake.” The tall female muttered and wiped off her clothes. “Where am i?” You questioned quickly, fear wavering in your voice as you realized she was dressed quite oddly. A soft tunic that would have definitely dated back to the thirteenth century and some trousers and footwear that had seen better days. She gave you a puzzled look. “Prythian, dear.” She scoffed and went to the wash basin to set down the food you had just realized she had been carrying. “Where is that?” You pushed further. How long had you been out for?        The lady gave you another odd look before busying herself again. “Where are we? Somewhere in England? Anywhere in Britain? It sounds British. Are we in America? Where?”       “Prythian. The continent.” She stated, her looks of concern soon matching your own. “I have no clue how you ended up all the way in the Night Court, but no matter, I’ll bring you to Velaris before sundown and surely our High Lord will return you to the human lands.” She went on and you had to sit back down for a moment. “Human lands...?” You muttered to yourself and glanced back at the woman. Pointed ears, slender face and extreme beauty. Your memory, which had completely forgotten you until now, was slowly returning.         Prythian. It sounded familiar. You just assumed you’d heard it in a world history or apush class. No, you’d heard it from a book. Yes, a fantasy book. But that wasn’t possible.      “Rhysand. Rhysand is your High Lord?” You asked, narrowing your eyes. The girl’s face lit up. “Yes! So you do know about Prythian! You’re not a lost cause after all!” Ignoring the backhanded comment you attempted to make more sense of the situation. “I must be dreaming.” You shook your head and began to stand, suddenly feeling light headed. “If you’re so eager to go, I can take you now, I can assure you you are not dreaming.” She confirmed. You nodded. “Take me now then. Please. I don’t belong here.” With some more hesitant conversation, the woman, who’s name was Rinna, agreed to take you to Velaris sooner than later. She lived on the outskirts of the city, just before the glamour took hold, and knew you were human and in turn gave you all of the essentials. Warm clothes that didn’t look out of place, a bag for your things, and some food.      “It’s an hour’s journey over mountain so be prepared.” She warned. You nodded before leaving her cottage and mounting one of the two horses she had owned.          You needed to figure out what had happened. The last thing you remember was being with your close friend and laughing in a bathroom at a party you two were at. And then everything was blank after that. You had read, and loved A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas but never in a million years did you think you would ever find yourself so far from home, and so close to the world you had loved. You now realized why books were just books. They were easy to love from afar. But so close, so very very close, they became scary. Too real. You were far from home, with no idea how to get back. You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone and without warning, your whole life was gone. And in reality, you knew no one here. Except now maybe Rinna, and technically all of the Inner Circle. But they didn’t know you. And that made all the difference.       You would figure out how to get home no matter what it took. You needed to get home. And as much as finding yourself in the ultimate fantasy world secretly excited you, it scared you. Greatly. You were human in the land of the fae about to meet the strongest High Lord in history. And you had no defenses. But now was no time to be weak. If loving these books had taught you anything, it was that being scared was the perfect time to be brave. You would meet your essential heroes but you would also find your way back home and have a hell of a story waiting for everyone when you got back.

-

well that was fucking shite. hope you enjoyed lol i love yall PS READ THE AUTHORS NOTE!!!!!!!!!!!

[renehart13657]

Do you think Lucien can see the mate bond between Az & Gwen?

[cacalowee]

↳ violet dreams masterlist •°. *

A C O T A R

Violet Dreams

azriel x rhysand's sister

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

epilogue

[cacalowee]

𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 | 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 2 | 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒓

azriel x rhysand's sister [ y/n ]

synopsis : y/n finds herself in a room with all her limbs tied to a chair and three illyrian males standing before her

warnings : imprisonment and cursing

word count : 2,151

notes : im so sorry for the wait but i got covid and didn't get a chance to write for a while, but here it is!! also this chapter is also a bit bland, but it gets a bit more spicy in the next two or three chapters

You knew you were a prisoner. You felt the coarse rope binding you to the chair and the cloth gag keeping any noise from escaping your mouth. You knew your hands were tied behind your back and you knew your feet were bound together. And yet you knew you weren’t in a cell. Quietly shuffling your feet, you felt the softness of the carpet under you.

“Cierra?” a male’s voice asked. The gag was taken out of your mouth rather gently and you blinked at the three dark-haired males standing in front of you.

“Cierra?” he repeated.

“What do you want?” you snapped, struggling against the rope binding you to a wooden chair. You surveyed the plaited cords twining around your arms and legs, noting the type of knots that were used.

You glanced around the room, looking for any possible weapon or exit—the thought process of any old assassin. You were in a lavishly decorated room with all the furniture pushed against the wall and the single chair you were sitting on in the center of the room, right under a crystal chandelier. These males were rich, then, if they could afford all this luxury.

Finally, you turned your gaze to the three illyrians before you. The one in the middle had purple eyes and dressed immaculately—like a businessman with his embroidered blazer. The two winged males standing behind him wore dark leathers with glowing stones scattered over their bodies—seven in total for each.

The three males exchanged conspiratory glances and the one with purple eyes stepped forward.

“I’m Rhysand, that’s Cassian over here, and that’s Azriel, in the corner. Cierra, we’re your family,” the male said, taking careful steps closer to you.

“You’re not my family, and my name isn’t Cierra, dumbass,” you spat. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

The purple-eyed male furrowed his eyebrows, “I—I’m not sure if I am.”

“Well, I’m sure and you are,” you contradicted.

“Cierra—”

“y/n,” you corrected.

The male stared at you for a second before continuing, “Ok, y/n, do you not remember us?” You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Please, try to think?” You sighed, deciding to entertain the male. You closed your eyes and wracked your mind for any memory of this Rhysand. Years of living on the continent flashed through your mind, but you remembered one thing about the male in front of you: Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court.

Your eyes flew open, glaring at the powerful male standing before you. Kill the night lord. The words from the king’s letter flashed in your head. You didn’t know how you didn’t make the connection before, but the three males in front of you were the Illyrian brothers of the Inner Circle.

With that acknowledgment came the pure and unfiltered hatred for the males in front of you. You didn’t know where it came from, but it was as if staring at the High Lord yourself unlocked a secret chamber of undiluted rage. Even without the king’s letter, you would have killed the males in front of you with no hesitation. It felt like Rhysand felt your anger or used his powers to sense it because he took a step back as if you were not what he expected.

“Cie—y/n, please, do you not know me?” Rhysand asked. He closed his eyes for a second before summoning a single drop of his power, letting a cloud of night swoop in through the window. He gestured at the dark blot as if a show of his power would make you realize anything but the fact that he was powerful. Insanely powerful and it would be a wise idea to be careful around them, but your mouth wasn’t going to cooperate.

You scoffed, tired of this game they were playing. “Oh, I know you. Mister High Lord of the almighty night. I know you.” You accentuated the grand statement with a particularly aggressive kick against the bonds.

“I-I don’t get it, what’s wrong with her?” Rhysand whispered to his comrades.

“Why do you assume it’s something wrong with me? What if something’s wrong with you?”

The High Lord didn’t answer but instead turned to his brothers. “Let’s talk in private.”

You struggled against the bonds as the High Lord took a few steps away. This was your chance, your chance to kill him and fulfill the king’s orders. You tried to kick or punch or anything. You just wanted to get the fuck off this chair.

“Wait! I have one last thing to say!” you screamed as you felt the High Lord’s power recede into the walls. The writhing mass of night seemed to pause as you continued kicking against the bonds. “I will kill you! Someday, maybe not today, but don’t be surprised when you find a dagger in your chest like a hateful bastard like you deserves. I hate you and I will kill you!”

Rhysand stared at you as you finally lost it and started hysterically struggling against the rope. “I really hope you don’t.”

His infuriating calmness. You felt like screaming as you watched him leave the room with the other males. When his back was out of sight and when the powerful wings of his two brothers were around the corner, you stopped kicking and just slumped in your seat. It was pointless to continue struggling, no one was around, and who would free the Night Lord’s prisoners?

With that thought, a fresh wave of silence washed in the room, and like the Mother herself was blessing you, the sound of the Illyrian’s conversation filled the air.

“What do we do with y/n?” Rhysand asked.

“I’m not sure, I don’t think she’s the same. She looked like she really wanted to kill you, Rhys,” a deep voice answered, one of the two Illyrian brutes.

“We can’t just leave her in that room tied up.”

“Maybe not, but what else do we do? Release y/n and let her have free roam of Velaris?”

“No, but we can at least be hospitable captors.”

“Very funny, Az, but what are you saying? Give y/n a room?”

“Why not, we don’t have to give her access to the hallways and rooms, just the one she would be staying in. It’s a much better approach than to keep her in the living room in binds.”

“True, he makes a good point, Rhys.”

There was a long and loud sigh, but it seemed like there was an agreement because the conversation became more distant, like the males were walking away together.

“y/n still wants to kill you though. What do we do about that? We can’t possibly lock her up forever.”

“No, no, you’re right. But what do we do? It seems like all her memories are gone, or rather, new ones were put in their place.”

“But . . . there has to be a way to get them back.”

“How?”

The conversation faded away, each word harder to hear until there was a new wave of silence, quickly broken by a door slamming somewhere in the house. You closed your eyes, bracing for one of the three Illyrian bastards to come running in and dragging you into some god-forsaken room, but a blonde female walked in instead.

You sat up, watching the female warily as she circled behind you to start untying you from the chair. You knew she didn’t just happen to walk in and decide to free you, so she must be working for Rhysand.

“I’m Morrigan, but just call me Mor. Rhys told me everything—or rather showed me everything, so I’m all caught up. I mean you no harm, but I’m just taking you to your room.” The female—Mor—finished untying the rope connecting you to the chair, but the ones keeping your hands tied behind your back were still intact. The bonds keeping your feet planted on the floor and against the chair legs came off right after.

“Alright,” Mor said, helping you stand up. “Let’s get you to your room.” She remained behind you as she gently guided you around the maze of hallways into the room furthest from the living room.

“Nice and quiet right here,” Mor said, winking.

The door was already partially open, so you nudged it all the way with your hip and stared into the small bedroom. There was a massive bed in the center, right in front of a window overlooking the gardens. The window was open, sheer curtains on either side of the hole in the wall flowing in a soft breeze that hit your face. There wasn’t much else, just a desk and a dresser in the room, but there was a huge mural of the night sky on the right side of the room, completely taking up one whole wall. It was absolutely beautiful and you knew, if you looked closer, you would find small details hiding in the masterpiece.

“Pretty,” you mumbled as you flopped onto the bed.

Mor cautiously approached you with her hands up, “If I untie your hands, do you promise not to gut me?” You rolled your eyes but nodded and gave the female access to the rope.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you, or why you’re so intent on killing Rhys, but can you promise me that you’ll try to behave while you’re here?” Mor asked as you felt the rope tying your wrists together loosen.

When you remained quiet, Mor added, “I’m not asking for much, but please, don’t try anything right now. You can plot Rhys’s death or whatever, but please don’t kill him. Or I’ll have to slit your throat.”

You sighed, “Ok, I won’t kill the Night Lord right now.”

Mor nodded and offered a grim smile. “Well, that’s good enough. I’m going to leave you alone now, is that ok?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you replied as you watched the female get up and leave the room, closing the door softly behind her. The lock clicked into place and you sighed, flopping back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your forearm.

You had gone from some super secret spy to a prisoner within a few hours, and there was no chance you would be freed with the High Lord knowing your current agenda. There would be no way to make you stop, that’s for sure. You were intent on what you were doing, focusing solely on your mission, and the target certainly wasn’t going to change that.

The door opened and closed again.

“Mother above, does everyone that walks into this house have to come and bother me?” you mumbled, sitting up again. Your eyes focused on the dark figure of a winged male standing in front of the door. You caught the tail end of a shadow darting behind the male’s arm and curling over his ear. Shadowsinger.

“Azriel,” you said, hoping you sounded diplomatic.

He inclined his head, “y/n.”

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, letting your tone imply for him to leave.

“I . . . I just want to know what happened. What you’ve been doing these past four hundred years,” he replied, somewhat awkwardly. It was slightly endearing—but not so much so that you forgot your mission here. He wasn’t the main target, however, it was Rhysand. But if you killing the High Lord somehow extended to the Shadowsinger, then that wasn’t your problem.

You sighed, wanting Azriel to be gone as fast as possible. “I worked for Hybern.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Could you be a bit more specific?”

You rolled your eyes, huffing a breath. “I spent most of my time on the continent. Nothing interesting. Is that all you wanted to know? Or did you want to hear my long and boring life story?”

Azriel eyed you for a while, something like concern shining on his face, but he shook his head and turned for the door, a defeated look in his eyes. He had his hand resting on the doorknob as he turned impulsively and looked you in the eye. “Look, I know you may not remember who I was to you, but I am glad you’re alive. And so is everyone else, especially Rhys.”

“Yeah, well I don’t care,” you responded, waiting for him to close the door behind him as he finally stepped out of the room.

You immediately dropped your head into your hands, already tired of all this fae interaction. On the continent, you spent most of your time spying on the Human Queens and doing Hybern’s dirty work, not much time interacting with other beings. But you supposed this was your new life now. Living with the High Lord, the fae you were supposed to be killing. But Mor had said you could plot the Night Lord’s death while you lived with him, but not actually kill him yet. Why not? Nothing was stopping you.

→ chapter 3 || violet dreams masterlist || complete masterlist

taglist : @sassybluebird ,, @starrstrucked ,, @moonslattes ,, @goldentournesol ,, @eat-cake ,, @owllover123 ,, @imnotsiriusyouare ,, @winnie-the-shoe ,, @hideing [ striked-out names couldn't be tagged unfortunately ]