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illyrian-dreamer · 4 months

Text

Overwritten – Part 11 (finale)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Words: 800

——–

Part 11 ∇

Silky sheets draped your skin, a gentle wind kissing your cheek as you blinked awake.

A scent on the pillows lingered, a soothing cedar pulling an instinct to nestle further into them, your heart thrumming with aproval.

Azriel. It was Azriel’s scent.

A sigh of contempt left your lips, relishing the luxury of safety, of knowing where you were, of who you were too. Where one might think the Shadowsinger would dwell in darkness – but those wide cast windows, the cream-coloured sheer drapes dancing in the Velarian breeze that wrapped the House of Wind. This was your mates room. Your room too.

A gasp escaped you, and you sat up so suddenly it made your head spin. A hand clutched at your chest, you were panting, eyes scanning the room, familiarity flooding you so intensely you temples throbbed.

That trinket on the chest of drawers – gifted by one of you friends from Dawn. The book by the reading chair – Azriel’s latest indulgent read that he still hadn't finished.

There were artworks, bottles of perfumery, drapes and clothes and scents swarming around you. Things you knew. Things you remembered.

“Az!” you called, your voice breaking with hoarseness. “Az!”

Azriel didn't come, but when you yanked at the bond, you felt him jolt, panic coursing back to you at your urgency.

Damn this, you thought, flinging the sheets off and scrambling to your feet.

You didn't care that all you wore was a night robe, that your hair was a likely mess, or that you were weak from the length of your rest. You remembered him, damnit. You remembered who you were.

Using the bond as a guide, your bare feet slapped on the marble floors as you raced to find your mate.

You hosted atop the double staircase, overlooking as Azriel burst through the front doors, chest panting with the haste he made to reach you.

Panic swarmed in those piercing hazel eyes. “My love, what-?”

But your feet were already moving, leaping two steps at a time before you flung yourself in your mates arms.

You pressed your lips to his, kissing him deeply, forcing him against you as if trying to redact the months apart, binding him to you so you may never have to part again.

Without question, strong hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, searing you to him. Your hands danced around each other, searching for new places to grope ands pull, limbs to latch and skin to kiss.

Your tears had pressed to Azriel’s chiselled cheeks as you forced yourself just an inch away.

“I remember.”

“You-you what?”

“I remember Az, all of it. You, our life together. The whole damn thing.”

The sob of relief that left your mate shook through your chest, and you felt his knees falter. Then he was buried in your neck, sobs muffled into your collarbone and scarred fingers latched through your hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry my love.”

“Shh, Azriel, shh.” You stroked that inky hair, soothing him as you both lowered to your knees, clinging to each other on the cold marble floor.

“How? How is this possible?” Azriel’s voice broke as he sniffed, eyes shining as they danced between yours.

You shook your head. “I’m not certain. I think when I killed Hybern - or my version of him-"

“You freed yourself from his conditioning,” Azriel nodded, bringing his hands to cup your face, kissing you over and over.

“I thought I might never get you back,” he whispered over your lips, tears rolling with the anguish he had kept from you for so long.

You stroked the hair from his eyes, a gentle finger tracing the wobble of his glistened lips. “I’m back my love. I will always come back to you.”

It was truly rough - the speed at which Azriel pulled you to his chest, and the tightness with which he held you to him.

“I am never letting you go, my love. Not ever again.”

You laughed into his chest, swaying with him as he rocked you fiercely. “Be rational, Az,” you teased. “You’ll have to let me go sometime.”

Azriel hug tightened as he stubbornly shook his head into the nape of your neck. “Not. Ever.”

You chuckled again, knowing the path to returning to your work and life away from your mate would be a journey in itself. But you wouldn't ask Az to shed the possessive instinct of both an Illyrian and mate – not yet anyway.

Because you’d never let go either, not of your bond, not of your love for him.

You would always find a way back to each other, and no one could overwrite your story.

————

AN: Thank you so so much for your patience with this finale lovelies!! ❤️❤️ I realise this is a short end to the fic, and I definitely lost my commitment to this story while I worked on other stuff. But I'm glad to have tied the bow on this fic :) Thank you for the ongoing support ❤️❤️ I sincerely hope you liked it! I'll be finishing my Our Girl series then focusing on a new series with Rhys, let me know if you'd like to join my general tag list for future works! MWA!

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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I hope one day it’s revealed that SJM is this ultimate mastermind and at the last ACOTAR book she exposes how Rhys HAS been the villain all along and he brainwashed Feyre from TAR until now, first by invading her mind in TAR; then, when he was “teaching” her how to read with “Rhysand is the most smart” etc, he was programming her into believing these things; then, it’s revealed that he faked the mating bond the whole time using his daemati powers as well as the bargains Feyre made with him to make it believable; and though we all see Amren as this power hungry, irrelevant character, she’s actually voicing the things Rhysand has planned (because she is his second, so she would know) because he’s taking too long to implement them which is giving all the other courts (Tamlin, specifically tbh) time to rebuild and gain power and the readers time to see what a shithead he is and every time SJM gushes over Rhys is her interviews was to brainwash the audience so that they miss those clues about Amren so that when she drops the bomb everyone’s heads explode.

It’s wishful thinking, SJM is that smart, but that would be something.

And I kind of feel like writing it as a TAR universe AU fic but I don’t have the time. 😭

Do you really think sjm will paint her fictional husband in a bad light? Maybe once that might have been the end goal but she became too in love with her imaginary man :(

#anon asks

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bookishfeylin · 2 years

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I think you’ll find this funny. My older brother (in his 30s) came to visit recently and I decided we would bond through me making him learn all about ACOTAR. I FaceTimed me sister and we gave him brief recaps of each chapter, trying not to let any of our own feelings into it, just giving basic facts about what went down. His reactions were GOLD.

Examples:

Calanmai when Feyre left her room twice and then got mad at Tamlin for touching her without her permission. “Is she some sort of stupid?”

Feyre decides to go back to rescue Tamlin. “She does know she’s going to die, right? He should’ve never sent her home if this was what she was going to do.”

Rhysand’s actions under the mountain made him legit green in the face. “Please don’t tell me he’s going to be part of a love triangle.”

Beginning of ACOMAF where they’re not talking about their trauma. “If they keep this up, they’re going to break up. He’s not a mind reader, she needs to tell him what’s wrong.”

Ianthe. “She is the nastiest skank bitch I have ever met. What a fugly slut.”

Rhysand teaches her to read. “This is a setup for a horror plot line, or some serious emotional manipulation and brainwashing.”

CoN fingering thing. “Am I really supposed to be feeling sympathetic to this guy when he proves he does this shit for giggles? But I guess I can’t be too mad about it because it’s her choice, right? This is THE WORST way to govern.”

Feyre uses her daemati powers on Tarquin to steal the book. “She got those powers from Rhysand? Do we know if he’s controlling her and changing her thoughts this way too? And of course they only do this to the black guy.”

Sex in a safe house for victims of sex crimes made him go quiet for a VERY long time.

All that shit she pulled in the spring court. “I get it. This is a reverse hero’s journey where we see the hero turn into the villain. Very smart of the author.”

The High Lords’ meeting. “She’s still not High Lady. The magic didn’t choose her, and off Rhysand dies, someone else would get the title. Idk why they’re all calling her High Lady, especially since she’s illiterate and has no experience with the land she’s supposedly ruling over. Also, Rhysand’s politics suck. He’s actually a terrible ruler.” He actually lost his mind around this point and had a lot to say, but it’s all stuff we’ve heard before.

Blowjob on a battlefield to the sounds of people dying made him go quiet.

Nesta became his favorite in the battle, and he straight up defended her every move in the novella and ACOSF. Emerie and Gwyn have also done no wrong, ever.

Rhysand taunts Tamlin after Tamlin saved his life. “Now he should kill him again, and without Feyre there to beg for his life, Prythian will finally know some peace.”

Cassian in ACOSF. “This is not the same guy as before. He kinda sucks.”

Eris dancing with Nesta. “This is a love triangle I can get behind. He talks to her better than Cassian.”

Lanthys talking about Nesta. “Weird, but powerful. I can get behind Evil Nesta. I think I’d like Evil Queen Nesta.”

Blood Rite. “There’s a plot in this book?!”

Azriel. “He needs to leave Gwyn and Elain alone and focus on his internalized racism and incel issues with Morrigan.”

When all was said and done. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever encountered, and I remembered when I’d have to take you guys (my sisters and I) to all of the Twilight movies in middle school. Somehow, somehow, this was worse, and you’re no longer in middle school so there’s no excuse for it. Choose better fiction.”

I feel like your brother and I would be best friends. Especially with:

Beginning of ACOMAF where they’re not talking about their trauma. “If they keep this up, they’re going to break up. He’s not a mind reader, she needs to tell him what’s wrong.”

-Literally. This.

And yeah, OF COURSE they brainwash the Black man. Of course they do. This is a Sarah J Maas book, and we all know people of color aren't going to be respected here.

Yep! YEP!!!!!! All this. It's an empty title because she wasn't chosen by magic and it makes me so sad because Feyre really wanted to prove herself, i think. But again: the magic didn't choose her. So it's not a valid position to hold. And frankly, how is the work we see Feyre do any different than that of a consort? Like what does she do. Paperwork? Tamlin didn't let Feyre do paperwork because she couldn't read at the time, based on how involved he has her be in ACOWAR, it doesn't seem like her job as "high lady" is much different.

This is so funny that I have nothing to add. Your brother is a GENIUS.

#ask #anon #acotar

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vidalinav · 2 years

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I think up to acofas SJM truly put all her efforts in making Feysand into the 'perfect' couple that can do no wrong in the eyes of the 'good & acceptable' characters. Every questionable and violent action (and war crime) they did was justified by the narrative and could be brushed off because 'if this character is fine with having been abused, then you should be, too'. And the ones that weren't didn't seem to bother their stans. BUT, despite the fact that I think SJM has a lot of issues (especially in regard on how she portrays lgbt+ and poc characters) and is blind to her own faults, I am unable to believe that she's dumb enough to not see that making Rhys withhold critical information from Feyre about her own body is anything but damaging to their image. Like I'm pretty sure she knew that this would make Feysand look bad-she also allowed another character to criticize their suicide-pact. I personally think she just isn't as obsessed with them anymore or the acotar-series - she's practically moved on to her new series. However, I do think they're still her favorite couple in acotar-otherwise, she would've put the same effort into Nessian.

You know idk. There's a lot of aspects of acosf that is hard to concretely analyze because of how noticeable the editing issues are and I don't particularly want to speculate on what SJM intended to do, but I admit that it's very hard to understand what is going on if there's a lack of consistency or rationalization whether you're an anti or a pro.

I personally also think that it would be very difficult to not see that Rhysand's actions are not "king feminist" but also just not something you do as a decent person or as a decent partner who loves someone. But the intention of that, in a perfect world, should mean something to the narrative.

If Rhys is meant to be shown like that than we can trace behavior all the way back to acotar, whether it's rationalized by trauma or not. We know that he has not been great to Feyre 100% of the time. He was primary villain at one point and now we see it again here in acosf, where he's starting to have that villain arc again, where it's about the high king and ruling Prythrian, and you know offering choices that are already heavily manipulated. So he could be going back to old ways, or even linking it to a trauma response which could be great for characterization, or highlighting pride and hypocrisy or even having it to emphasize Nesta's role in the plot and her conflict with him, or even Feyre asserting her own autonomy and her rule/role in this book, which again is good for characterization and character development. It would've been potentially great to flush that out, but since we have no explanation are hands are up in the air with that one.

However, if Rhys is not meant to be shown like that which... you know is hard to say if he is because of how much the book wants to brainwash us into believing he has no faults by the words of other primary characters, even when we read them on the page with our own two eyes, then the narrative suffers because of her writing and we, the readers, are left in a state of confusion as if we, ourselves, are being manipulated, and we get this split of I hate this character with a passion, I like this character to a fault, and the other which is I have no idea what's going on and maybe SJM doesn't either. I always say reading shouldn't be rocket science and though readers should be connecting dots and we should be reaching our own conclusions, we shouldn't have to be making up facts or ignoring details to make up a conclusion because that's the most consistent information we can find.

We don't know until the next book really if that means anything. I know people love to say it's a favoritism issue, but you can favor a ship and still write a relatively coherent, fulfilling novel. Plenty of authors do it. I mean she did with TOG, so it should not be so difficult. So I personally will always say that it's writing/editing problem, and that her lack of consistency, fact checking, and planning is the reason for all of this mess and I hope it gets better but I have no faith that it will. Because in all honest, she could have just stayed with Feyre/Rhys’s pov or had multiple povs, or just not do other character sideplots, if she only wanted to write Feyre/Rhys so I think it just doesn’t make her look like flexible writer.

#vidalinav answers asks #sjm critical

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highqueenesta · 4 years

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This is exactly what's always been bothering me about the IC: there are no consequences to their actions. Cassian destroys buildings in Tarquin's court and they laugh it off as if Rhys wouldn't have declared war upon Tarquin if someone from Tarquin's court would've done the same to Velaris. Rhys mentions that he has done 'unspeakable things' under the mountain and in war in general - and yet it's never talked about again and no High Lord would dare to hold him accountable for it. (1/3)

Not to forget that they literally stole that one book from Tarquin's court instead of just talking to him considering the amount of times he'd been described as the good guy - and again, they're merely banned off Tarquin's court and sent blood rubies. The IC messes with the other courts' politics (in the case of Eris and Beron, which I consider to be both awful. Still, that doesn't erase the fact that this would be some sort of foreign electoral intervention, which is prohibited. (2/3) Or when it comes to sabotaging the Spring court, damning a whole court for the actions of one individual: Tamlin). Y'all telling me the IC can literally commit crimes against other courts (that have done nothing but treated them decently) and get away with it? Because Feysand is just that powerful and special? But nope, only Nesta is allowed to be treated badly, because she's just that awful. (3/3)

E👏X👏A👏C👏T👏L👏Y!!!!!!!

Honestly, this is one of the best asks I’ve ever received. You hit it so spot on. This is because SJM’s writing method of “telling not showing” brainwashes the readers to worship the IC unquestioningly. And because readers put the main characters on a pedestal, they don’t even consider what Rhys and Co. have done to be wrong.

In ACOTAR, and any SJM books really, side characters are judged wholly on how they interact with the main characters, which is absolutely stupid. If Tamlin has destroyed the Night Court, IC stans would be LIVID, but they have no problem with Feyre destroying the Spring Court out of spite. Remember in ToG, when Darrow was the most reasonable character in the entire series, but was treated terribly by the narrative?! I really can’t take the original series seriously anymore. The bias, misogyny, and overall cringe is just not it, sis.

Also, you want to know what really makes me laugh? People who say that if Nesta was a male, they would still hate him? Well um, sis, why don’t you hate Rhys, then? Huh? Rhys has done a lot worse than Nesta, and is 500+ years older than her. But he’s a swoony male character, so he’s just a precious cinnamon roll, and Nesta’s nothing but a bitch. Yep.

People see main characters as self-inserts, so if they see themselves as Feyre, ofc they aren’t going to see Feysand’s flaws. It’s not reasonable, but hey, what can you do? I saw someone a while ago admit that they had “main character bias” towards Feyre, and honestly, I respect that they will own up to it.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t “hate” Feyre and Co., I just find it absolutely astonishing how people worship them so much when they are no better than any of the other characters. Bottom line is: Stop acting like the IC are perfect angels and everyone who doesn’t like them are the devil incarnate.

#acomaf #nesta archeron #acowar #acotar #sarah j maas #sjm #sjmaas #acosf #acofas #feyre archeron #rhysand #anti feyre #anti rhysand #anti sjm #ask

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

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Overwritten – Part 10

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Words: 1,889

——–

Part 10 ∇

You waded through the depths of the woods, the crisp air consuming you.

The ground was damp, the tree’s mossy and the cold bit through your clothes. But at least you felt something, allowing the sensation to blanket what writhed within.

Silent tears streamed down your face as you made you way further into the woods. Hybern had won, he had turned you to a weapon born in a cell, insidious enough to even hurt children. Months of treatment and the strides of progress were revealed now for a certain truth – it was not enough. You weren't enough. Not strong enough, no loving, or caring, or kind enough to overcome what he had made you. Not good enough for your family. And certainly not good enough for Azriel.

So you walked and walked, cyclical thoughts swirling in your head as you stumbled through the thicket, leaving the faint sound of the city behind, uncaring that you were lost.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the faint glow of dawn peeked through the branches, that you realised exhaustion was quick on your tail. Stopping at a clearing, you slid your back against a mossy ash tree, blinking through crusted tears and heavy lids that begged for sleep. Your vision reeled, the ground now uncertain and you wondered when the last time you had a drink of water was. Blinking faster now, you tried to steady your vision on the open grass in front of you.

And Hybern, who stood at the centre of it.

You choked on your own breath, scrambling to your feet.

His wicked grin shone through the dim light of dawn, at contrast with the climbing dark trunks that surrounded the clearing. Strapped to his body was a plethora of weapons, the silver of swords and knives almost as bright as his smile.

“Impossible,” you gasped, your hands clenching to fists as you began to shake.

“Possible,” he responded, his eyebrows raising as he fingered the handle of his sword, the large weaponed sheathed at his waist.

You were quick to think to grab a rock from the ground, throwing at directly at his head. Hybern’s figure rippled like watery smoke as the rock shot straight through him.

“Liar,” you snarled, anger brewing in you. This was the first moment of peace you had found since you could remember – how dare he disturb it.

“I may be of your mind Y/N, but that does not mean my strikes will hurt any less.”

“Leave me alone,” you seethed, making to leave in the direction you had come.

“I will follow you,” he called, stopping you in your tracks. Turning, you found amusement written on his face. You wanted nothing more than to take his own sword and spear it straight between those smug eyes.

“Do it,” he provoked.

“What?”

“Kill me. See if you can.”

You shook your head. Perhaps if you shook hard enough, he would disappear.

“I’m surprised you’re yet to try,” he drawled, slowly pacing towards you. You watched silently, fuming, readying for when he might attack.

“Or perhaps it’s because you know you’ll fail.” His taunt earned a snarl from you.

“Why not try, dear Y/N? You’ve already lost everything important to you, what else could there possibly be?”

“Fuck you,” you spat.

“Ah, there it is,” he smiled, his eyes narrowing and focusing on you. “Fight.”

“No.”

“No? I suppose I forgot how wonderfully stubborn you are. After all, you were near impossible to break in my dungeon. Have I truly changed you that much?”

You glared at him, and he watched you back. “Pitiful,” he spat, turning in his tracks to leave you to brew in your own insanity.

With a deep breath, you tried to control the shake in your voice. “I’ll kill you when you’re brave enough to appear in the flesh.” Hybern stopped then, turning back to face you with a quirked brow. “Mark my words, you pathetic excuse of a male. I will kill you – the real you.”

Hybern tipped his head back a laughed. “Oh Y/N. You truly are as broken as you look.”

Red flashed before your eyes, your anger bubbling to the surface.

“You won't last to ever find the real me.”

You frowned, dissecting his works. This version of Hybern, a figment of your mind, was hinting to you, warning you. It was clear then – you needed to fight him, beat him, kill the plague he planted in your mind if you were to ever truly recover.

You didn't need to be told twice.

Launching into a sprint, you speared for the King, a cry ripping from your throat. He merely grinned, unsheathing his sword, swinging directly where you dove. You slid to your knees, narrowly missing the strike, the silver of his weapon glinting before your eyes, impossibly real.

With a grunt you rolled to your side, dodging again and Hybern stuck his sword in the ground, intending to have speared you. You glared back, the sheer audacity of a grouse death making you see red. This was not a fair fight, or at least not yet.

Darting behind him, you swung a low kick to his back, sending him off balance with an opportunity to swipe a weapon. You secured a hand knife, the closest item in your reach. Shrugging, you raised cold eyes to Hybern who had now steadied himself. This would have to do.

“Thief,” he spat.

“Cunt,” you replied.

Hybern growled, raising his sword high before launching for you, the loud swoosh of his weapon sounding above his yell.

And so began the dance between you two. You were light on your feet to avoid his strikes, circling and calculating for your own opportunity to attack. Your innate skill and tactics surprised you, and you realised there were years of training that innately prepared you now. You would have to thank your family for that if you made it.

“Don’t be a coward, Y/N. Remember, I don't exist, I’ll never grow tired.”

You gritted your teeth – Hybern was right, you were only exhausting yourself. Trembling with adrenaline, you kept your distance, your heart pounding in your ears as you tried to decide what to do.

“Pitiful, the lot of you,” he spat again. “Your court is weak, your family too. And your mate, willing to die for his true love? How utterly pathetic.”

Primal anger flushed within you, boiling your blood and you tossed the knife to your dominant hand, gripping it’s handle. “Don’t you dare speak of him like that.”

“I enjoy watching him come undone because of you, Y/N. I knew all along the Spymaster was the weakest link of the Night Court. Always putting others first, always suppressing his own needs and desires. All I had to do was push him right to the edge.”

A different kind of strength found you then, like a lone prized trophy in a barren cavern. You may not be worthy of love, but Azriel was the most deserving of all. You would die to defend that.

And so you launched for the evil King, arm raised with the blade pointed straight for his heart. Airborne, you careened towards him, you vision narrowed as the pathway to freedom honed in your vision. He wasn’t real, this wasn't real. You would overcome him for the sake of your mate, love and determination fuelling you as you launched to kill the King of Hybern.

It was a reeling shock to feel the King’s sword pierce clean through your middle. Your eyes widened with shock as you looked down, the handle resting at your stomach, Hybern’s hand already soaked with the red of your blood.

He grinned famously, your widened eyes finding his as your head swirled and you let out a strangled sound. There was no pain to be felt, yet your blood poured, warming you as your breath stuck in your throat.

“It’s as I said,” he smirked, lifeless eyes holding yours. “Pathetic.”

And perhaps because he was talking, or perhaps because he underestimated you, but he was unprepared for the short knife that quickly stuck in the side of his neck.

You delighted in watching Hybern’s artery generously bleed as much as your stomach did. And there was an odd moment where you clung to each other, neither of you willing to be the first to fall, both of you nearing closer and closer to death.

“Y-you b-bitch,” he stuttered with fury, gasping for the air that never reached his lungs.

You could feel him slipping from your mind – the roots that infected even the deepest corners beginning to wither and rot. He was dying, leaving your reality, flushing from your system after the months of poison and torture that had fixed him there. A sickness that finally had a cure.

You laughed, cackling as you watched those hideous eyes glow red for a final time before a white casting fogged them over. He let you go then, crumpling to the floor, his body withering before your eyes. A gust of wind blew over, sweeping his figure to ash and taking the remaining of his body with it, leaving you alone in the clearing.

Falling to your knees, you clutched at your own stomach, Hybern’s sword no longer lay within, the remnants of the weapon turned to dust along with the King. But your blood covered your hands, it’s warmth pooling around you, gushing at an alarming rate.

“Stop. Stop!” you begged to no-one, pressing on your own wound. You would surely die any moment now.

So you cried – cried for the loss of your love, cried that you never had the chance to remember the life you had, or to ever recreate the joy and love you knew surrounded you. There was so much that could have been, and grief would be that last thing you ever felt in this world.

Through the blur of tears and the closeness of death that begged your eyes to close, it was Azriel’s scent mixed with that of your blood that told you he was near. In fact, he was not alone.

“Real or fake?” your voice quivered as you body began to give, falling slowly to the mossy ground. Azriel caught you, pulling you to his lap quickly as he scanned over you.

“Real, my love. As real as can be. Where does it hurt?”

You frowned. “The blood–“

“What blood? I see none.”

You trembled in your mates arms as he cast an urgent look back to his family. Rhysand shook his head gently, tapping his temple to show Azriel your injury did not extend past your mind.

Azriel sighed in relief, stroking you hair as he held you close. “There is no blood my love, its not real.”

“My stomach! He– he–”

Azriel soothed you, rocking you closely. You were too delirious, too confused and exhausted to comprehend what was real or not.

“I killed him Az, for you,” you whimpered, your body convulsing with heaves of exhaustion. “We’re safe now.”

Azriel cradled your face, kissing your forehead before pulling you closely to him again. “Rest now, my love.” he soothed, and that was the last thing you heard before slipping into numbing darkness.

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Part 11>>>

AN: Thank you so so much for your patience with this chapter lovelies!! And of course for the ongoing support ❤️❤️ I sincerely hope you liked it!

I always love hearing what you think, so don’t be shy to drop a comment. And also if you’d like to join the tag list :)

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illyrian-dreamer · 9 months

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Hii, i love ur writing first of all, i’ve literally binge-read almost every fic😩 I wanted to ask of you were updating ” overcoming ” with az x brainwashed reader🤍

Hey lovely!! Thank you so so much 💕 I get giddy hearing that!

Yes absolutely, I plan to finish Overwritten in late August or September ☺️

I’m travelling at the moment so don’t have a chance to write currently ✈️

It’s almost done though, I want to finish it off with a nice bow tie and happy ending 🥰

#acotar series #azriel x reader #azriel series #azriel x y/n #azriel x brainwashed reader #acotar brainwashed reader

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 8

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,156

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Part 8 ∇

Azriel’s scent hit you the moment you opened the door. It was fresh, yet primal, laced with sentiment that you couldn't yet remember.

Triggered by smell alone, the voice in your mind woke. Be it Hybern or someone else, you didn't know – but it cleared it’s throat, readying for it’s part. You swallowed quickly, layering your will on top, smothering that voice with sheer stubbornness. It would not have a hold on you any longer.

Azriel stood the moment you entered. His hands were clasped in front of him in a forced manner, but his eyes – oh his eyes – they swirled with longing, more golden than any of the lights in the room. Your gaze latched with his, unable to break away. Kill him, the voice sounded in your head. You squashed it with your foot.

It was a wonder how you made it to your seat across the Shadowsinger, neither of you breaking your stare. But here you sat, your hands folded in your lap, Feyre at your side as promised. Rhys leaned against Azriel’s chair, his arms crossed against his chest. You were glad for the casualness he was able to fake. No one dared to say anything, and you looked across them before realising they were waiting for you.

With a gentle clear of your throat, you took a small breath. “Hello,” was all that came out.

Even at those words, you saw Azriel’s tension ease, his eyebrows pulling slightly upwards, the hint of a smile at his lips. “Hello,” he responded back, his voice smooth and sweet like honey, sending a shiver down your spine.

This is a trap, the voice said again. You stiffened at how close it spoke in your ear, and moved your hands slowly to grip the arms of your chair, grounding yourself.

Azriel noted your tension, his head dropping in a quiet display of sympathy. “How are you feeling?”

Well, that was a difficult question to answer.

“Alright, I suppose.” A beat of silence. “How are you?” you asked shyly.

Another soft smile found his lips. Gods, he really was beautiful. “I’m much better seeing you.”

A blush tinted your cheeks then. You hadn't realised how awkward and unnatural this encounter would be, it was as if he was courting you for the first time. In a way, you supposed he was.

“I want to apologise,” you said, eyeing the Shadowsinger up and down. Azriel quirked his brow at you, confusion racking his handsome features. “I heard that flying with Cassian had caused some… tension. And I’m sorry, I know this is hard for you too, and it was never my intention to hurt you.”

Azriel dropped his head to his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook it from side to side. Attack now, while he’s not looking! You gritted your teeth, swatting that voice to the depths of your mind. Fool! it spat from much further away.

“My mate, as selfless as ever,” he said without looking up. You cast your eyes to Rhys, who offered you a sorry smile.

Azriel looked up then, his eyes finding yours, his expression serious with one hand braced on his chest. “It is I who should be apologising to you.” You frowned in response. “Being taken and brainwashed, the pain and your torture you have endured… it happened because of me.” Azriel was gently shaking his head, his shame evident through the hunch of his shoulders.

Is this what he thought? Did he truly blame himself? “I don't believe that’s true,” you said softly.

“You are my mate, and it is my duty to protect you. Not only did they take you from me, but I was unable to find you in time to stop…,” Azriel took a breath then, choosing his words carefully. With a quick clear of his throat, he continued. “To stop them from hurting you.”

You caught the hint of tears in the Shadowsinger’s eyes, his face twisted and tortured. It was one thing to know he was hurting just as much as you, but it was another to see it displayed in all his earnest.

“I don’t blame you Azriel. Not for one part of it.”

“Of course you don’t. You would never.” Azriel’s assurance of how you would respond was so strange, he knew you better than you knew yourself. “But I will never stop being sorry that you were hurt in so many ways, it is something I cannot forgive myself for.”

You watched him carefully, the pain that bought his brow to clench is such a way, the quiver in his lip, the way he moved his scared hands, one always on his heart, sincerity pouring from him as he gave the apology he had waited months to say. You took him in – how different this male was from the version Hybern had created in your mind.

“I only blame Hybern,” you said stiffly, your jaw clenching as a migraine brewed at his mention. It was still hard to talk about him.

Azriel’s eyes darkened in response as he nodded tightly. “He will pay for what he did. And then some.” His voice was dangerous now, predatory even. You clenched the arms of the chair tighter, unable to help the skip of your heart. Azriel, attune to the slightest of your behaviours, immediately softened as he watched your knuckles turn white.

You took a deep breath in, looking through the window that faced the city of Starlight. Dusk had began to set, and the lights of Velaris twinkled in the distance.

“I’m trying to remember our life together,” you spoke, your gaze unmoving from the movement of the city beyond.

“What do you remember?”

“Nothing,” you said flatly. “I only know what happened.”

“And what is it you know?”

“I know I was taken by Hybern on a mission, or a trap rather – a plan he had all along. I know his intention was to use me to hurt you and our family, he told me that himself many times. He said that he would ruin the Night Court from within, and that I was his weapon.”

Azriel’s frown deepened, his own knuckles turning white as he clasped his hands tighter. Feyre’s hand was on your shoulder then – a gentle, reassuring touch.

“It’s alright Y/N,” she spoke softly. “We got you back.”

You nodded tightly, unable to stop the twist of guilt in your stomach. In many ways, Hybern had already won. You had torn the Inner Circle apart from within – it was just today that Azriel fought Cassian because of you.

Suppressing your thoughts with the slight shake of your head, you continued. “I also know we had a life before that, here in Velaris. I know that you are all my family. And that we were happily mated.”

Azriel nodded with a soft smile. “That’s right.”

“I’ve learnt to trust that you have my best intentions at heart. But regardless, I don’t remember my life, who I am, let alone our mateship.”

Azriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he levelled a look at you. “Y/N. There is no expectation to remember–”

“I want to,” you interrupted him, biting the quiver on your lip.

“I know,” he sighed. “And I’m beyond grateful that you are trying, I know it’s exhausting. But look at how far you’ve come. I am proud that–”

Azriel was interrupted by a small shriek on the other side of the library doors, before a small flurry of night began to swirl in front of you. You all jumped to a stand as Elain burst through the doors.

“Nyx!” she called in a panic.

You stared with wide eyes as the swirls of night revealed the blue-eyed child before he ran to you, clutching at your legs. “Aunty Y/N! I missed you!”

Your body turned to stone, freezing so still you didn't dare to even breath.

It was as if the sequence of events that followed unfolded in slow motion.

Rhys had leapt from his position, one hand outstretched as he reached for Nyx, his eyes wide in shock. Azriel’s shadows raced the High Lord to his child, the Spymaster eerily still as he eyed you intensely. Elain was running across the room, racing to the child who still clung to your leggings and had obviously escaped her. Feyre stood frozen, her hands over her mouth, the beginnings of maternal instinct brewing behind those grey-blue eyes.

Behind you, Mor and Cassian burst into the room, the tinge of Cassian’s dried blood hitting your nose as his injuries healed. You could hear Mor gasp, both of them halting by the doorway.

Every one of them stopped a steps distance away from you, halting to see what you would do next, too afraid to come any closer. Instead they watched, waited, as if you were an rabid animal in a cage.

Nyx’s tubby hands still clung to your calves, his face buried into you as he squeezed you tightly.

You stared down at the child, your fists clenched and jaw so tight it ached. A dark voice snickered in the back of your mind. No! You would not lose yourself, not now.

“Aunty Y/N?” Nyx looked up at you, black curls falling loosely, his sapphire eyes as innocent as they come.

You allowed yourself one short breath. “H-hello Nyx,” you managed to say without frowning, and without losing yourself all together.

Feyre was on him then, her movements swift as she pried her sons hands from your legs, eyeing you with every move that she made. Your heart sunk at the way she looked at you – someone, no, something vicious, unpredictable, not to be trusted. There was not a hint of kindness in her face, and it broke your heart.

“That’s enough Nyx, Aunty needs to rest.” Feyre hauled a protesting Nyx into her arms, winnowing out of the room before he could cry.

There was a beat of silence in the room after she left, no one daring to move.

“I am so sorry,” Elain whispered from behind you. “I turned away for one second and–”

Rhys raised his hand. “It’s alright Elain, no harm, no foul.”

But you stared straight ahead, your body rigid, nails pressed so hard into your palms you felt the familiar wounds reopen. Tears brewed in your eyes, and you blinked to release the well that had built.

“Y/N,” Azriel said, his voice cautious. He didn't dare reach for you.

“I would never hurt a child,” you breathed, your voice shaky. To see how quickly Nyx was taken away, how everyone eyed you like an untamed animal. Did they truly believe that you would hurt something as innocent as that boy? You were devastated.

Blinking more quickly now, you tried to catch yourself before you truly started crying. “Please, please. I would never harm him, or any child. You must know that.” You glanced around the room, pleading to the rest of your family for them to see the good in you. But they kept their distance, their distrust as evident as ever. Though so different from the months of loneliness you endured in Hybern’s cell, somehow this was equally as isolating.

“Y/N,” Azriel said again, his voice more gentle, as if asking to approach.

“Please. I-I couldn’t, I would n-never hurt him.” Your words were stuttered as panic rose within you. What kind of monster had you become?

It was Rhys who said “We know, Y/N. We know.”

And that’s when you fell apart, crumpling to your knees as sobs racked through you, your body shaking uncontrollably. It took every ounce of willpower you had to not change back, that vicious, hideous voice cackling in the back of your mind, delighting in your misery. Torn apart from within. Hybern had truly won – you knew that now, and hated yourself for it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said over and over again, holding your knees to your chest as you rocked on the floor of the library.

Azriel’s shadows reached you before he did, curling around your body as they provided a blanket of cold comfort. Azriel placed a gentle hand was on your back, and despite your wince in response to his touch, his face was assured, certain of what you needed as he felt for you through the bond. The two sides of the tether finally touched, warming and twining together. You hadn't realised how much you called for him within, but now that he was here – it all made sense.

He crouched next to you, encompassing you in his arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured, pulling you tighter as he sheltered you from yourself. And to everyone’s surprise, even your own, you let him.

Through your tears, you didn't notice the library fading as Azriel winnowed you away.

————

Part 9 >>>

AN: Did someone say angst? Because there’s more where this came from too... Thanks for reading, I LOVE hearing your thoughts and feedback, so drop a comment anytime. And also to join the tag list. MWA ❤️

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 9

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Words: 1,508

--------

Part 9 ∇

You were still sobbing, still apologising when the cold of the wooden floors felt solid beneath your knees. Azriel’s shadows began to thin, clearing around you to reveal your personal quarters. He kept his hold on you, his hands firm on both your sides. Azriel was cautious to not smother or confine you – instead he grounded you, allowing you to breath.

He was muttering something you were unable to hear over the roar of your hysteria, letting you rock in his arms as devastation continued to consume you. I hate myself, I hate what I’ve become – it was a chant that sounded in your mind over and over, one you’d never be able to forget it.

Feyre’s eyes had turned so cold when she took Nyx away – it was fear, but also a warning that she would do whatever it took to protect her child. You didn’t blame her, how could you? You had given her plenty of reason to not trust you these past months. And the rest of your family – the way they froze when Nyx approached you, not a breath shared amongst them. It was as if they were waiting, just waiting for you to do the worst.

The feeling that gnawed at your heart hurt so much that your stomach clenched while you cried, your arms snaking around your middle in comfort. It was pure, harrowing self loathing. You hated yourself for the monster you had become. How could you let Hybern change you so much that your own family were afraid of you? How could you be so weak?

Azriel’s silken voice cut through the noise then, floating above the chant in your mind, his words gentle and airy. “You have nothing to be sorry for, love. I know you, I love you.”

You felt a warmth moving to comfort you from within, Azriel sending an ocean of reassurance and understanding through the bond. But like waves crashing against a cliff, the water broke no matter how strong their current, and all you could feel was the faint spray that made it to the other side.

You pushed out of him arms, clambering to stand as you gripped your bed post, one hand pressed against the gnaw at your heart. “No, no, no Azriel! Get away!” You were unlovable – a hideous, violent thing. The dark chuckle in the depths of your mind confirmed it.

Azriel stood with you, but kept his distance. “Try to breath, Y/N.”

“Stay back,” you threw over your shoulder, your hand now clutching at your throat as you tried to steady your breaths. He was right, you needed to calm down. If that voice got any closer…

Azriel placed large hand on the centre of your back. It warmed you, grounded you, loved you even. It was something you didn't deserve, and would never deserve again. You hated it.

You spun, your teeth bared. “I said get away!”

Azriel visibly flinched, snatching his hand back as his shadows climbed his tall frame, sensing their master’s shock.

Your eyes darted across his, then down to your shaking hands that you held in front of you. Small crescent shaped wounds had reopened from where your nails pressed, your blood smeared across your palms.

You see Y/N, you won’t ever heal. Not fully, that dark voice said.

“Shut up!” you spat, closing your eyes and trying to find the dark figure that began a lethal stroll across your mind. It was far too close, closer than it had been in weeks.

You are what I made you. A mere weapon.

“Y/N, I’m here. Stay with me.” Azriel’s voice cut through from the outside. Your mind reeled as you struggled to balance realities.

Clutching at the roots of your hair, you allowed yourself to slip further into the depths of your mind, facing the shadowy figure, it’s red eyes gleaming through the darkness.

That’s it Y/N, give in to what you truly are and join me.

“I am nothing like you,” you spat, the figure circling you as he laughed.

Then why do you choke the life from your mate as we speak?

Gasping, your eyes flew open to find your bloodied hands holding Azriel’s neck. You weren't choking him, not yet – instead your fingers gingerly curled around his throat, ready to attack, to kill. You spluttered, your eyes wide as you tried to pry your hands off of him, but there was something in you, an insidious calling, that kept them there. You gritted your teeth, fighting to reclaim control of your body and mind.

Azriel’s eyes bored into yours, yet he showed no fear. Instead those golden brown eyes swirled with earnest and a stupid amount of faith. “I trust you.” was all he said.

You blinked at him, trembling hands still around his neck. Grunting, you fought the urge to close them tighter, begging yourself to pull away.

Scarred hands rested on your forearms then. Azriel didn’t pry yours from his neck, but instead he just touched you.

“I love you, Y/N. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Tears poured down your face. Azriel’s love was unconditional, even when you couldn’t love yourself. He trusted you, and would die trying to prove it to you over and over again.

With a disgruntled scream, you forced your hands off Azriel’s neck, clutching them to your chest as you panted, exhausted from the sheer will it took to pull away. Racked with sobs, you turned away from your mate, ashamed to have repeated the same moment when you had first been freed. Months of hard work had been unravelled in seconds, proving you were not any better. You had let everyone down.

“Shhh, shh,” Azriel pulling you to him. You stuck your arm out, stopping him from encompassing you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop that,” he said, levelling a look at you. “You didn't hurt me.”

“I wanted to kill you Azriel! Don't you understand that?”

“But you didn’t Y/N! You didn’t! And that’s the only part that matters.”

You clenched your eyes shut, trying to shut everything out. The room spun, and the throbbing behind your eyes was as painful as ever. You were nauseous, sick of yourself, sick of the how much you had to give just to stop hurting the people you loved. You were better off alone, and they were better off without you.

“I-I can’t breathe.” Azriel watched helplessly.

You needed to get away. Away from your mate and your family, where you could hurt no one and they could live in peace.

Beyond your bedroom window, away from the sparkling city of Velaris, lay the thick of the woods. It was dark, cold, and beckoned almost as strongly as the bond between you and Azriel.

You looked back at the Shadowsinger, your own winnowing powers beginning to activate for the first time in months. “I need you to let me go,” you said, your voice broken at the decision you had already made.

Azriel’s eyes shone with fresh tears, his shadows scouting for you straight away. But with a tight swallow, he nodded, silently calling them back to curl around his fists.

“I understand,” was all he said. But by then you had already winnowed from the room.

————

Moments later, Rhys burst into your quarters, behind him Feyre and Mor. They entered to find Azriel facing the window, watching the dark of the woods, wings tight and shadows pressed against the glass.

“We heard yelling,” Rhys said. Azriel didn't answer, didn't even turn.

“Az? Where is Y/N?” Feyre asked, placing a gentle hand on the his shoulder.

Azriel sighed. “She left.”

“Left for where?” Mor’s question was frantic, readying herself to find you immediately.

“To the woods.”

“The woods?” Rhys questioned, his face wracked with confusion.

“She couldn't breath here, she was… panicked, trapped. She said I needed to let her go, so I did.”

There was silence amongst them.

“I’m sorry for how today unfolded,” Feyre apologised. “Elain is so upset.”

Azriel shook his head softly, finally turning to his family. “It’s alright. No one is to blame.”

“I’ll track Y/N mind to mind while she’s out there,” Rhys offered, to which Azriel nodded.

“I’ll send my shadows too, in time.”

“Will you retrieve her?” Mor asked, chewing on her lip.

“Only if she needs me to,” Azriel said with a frown.

“And how will you know?”

“I’m her mate. I’ll know.”

Mor nodded before she ran a comforting hand along Azriel’s arm, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

“Is Cass still here?” the Shadowsinger asked.

“He’s back at the House of Wind with Nesta,” Feyre answered. “He didn't want to provoke you any further.”

Nodding, Azriel winced at the twinge of guilt in his stomach, remembering how he badly he had hurt his brother earlier that day. “I owe him an apology,” was all he said as he prepared to winnow himself, his shadows looping closely for their departure.

————

Part 10 >>>

AN: I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you for your patience while I finessed this part! 💌 The support for this series has been overwhelming – so just another thank you for following along the journey, it means so much to me ❤️❤️❤️

I’ll put tags in a reblog from here on, but drop a comment to join the list!

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Violence

Words: 1,696

--------

Part 7 ∇

There are some blows that hit so hard they can be heard before they are felt.

This was exactly that. Azriel’s punch landed on the left of Cassian’s jaw, sending the General stumbling to the side, the pain initially blocked by shock. Before he could process the strike, Azriel had grasped his shoulder and swung a low fist to his abdomen, sending Cassian airborne before landing on his back as his wings scraped the ground.

Cassian’s eyes were wide as he spat the blood that drew inside his swelling cheek. “What the fuck?!”

Azriel’s gaze was fixed on his brother with a cold stare, his eyes blackened with rage. His chest moved with fuming breaths as he waited for Cassian to stand – he would not attack while he was down. Despite his rage, Azriel’s shadows stayed close, unwilling to fight this on his behalf.

“Get up,” he snarled, shaking his hand to rid of the pain the strike had caused him, preparing for another blow.

Cassian stayed on the ground, sitting up on his arms as he scowled at his brother. “The fuck I will. What in Mother’s name is your problem?”

“You dare fly my mate.” Azriel’s voice was laced with ice, his nose scrunched with disgust. Cassian’s face scrunched too, before realisation set in.

“Az, I offered to get her out of the house for a while,” he defended, raising his palms as he explained.

“You had no place,” Azriel growled, his hands now locked in fists that shook at his sides. “She is my mate.”

“Yeah, don't I know it buddy. You've made that very clear.” Cassian stood slowly, his stance angled – not aggressive, but not backing down either.

A warning rumble sounded from Azriel’s chest.

“Listen, brother. It had nothing to do–”

Azriel moved so fast that Cassian was once again unable to dodge the uppercut that knocked his jaw to the skies. Grunting in pain, Cassian staggered back, a curse slipping from him as he spat out more blood. “Are you really going to make me do this?” he questioned the Shadowsinger.

Azriel remained silent, staring, his only movement the heavy pants that left his chest.

“Seems like you need this then, hey brother,” Cassian said with a light hearted chuckle that made Azriel see red. Shaking his long locks, Cassian charged for his brother, launching the most aggressive fight they had ever had.

It was a flurry of wings and limbs, the both of them skilled in their own ways. Azriel’s speed was often at heads with Cassian’s strength, however the rage that consumed the Shadowsinger offered an extra bite to the blows that he landed. And while the strikes were few from many, it was that same rage that blinded Azriel from his usual thought-out tactics, which Cassian played to his advantage.

“You’re not thinking clearly brother,” Cassian chuffed, ducking below an incoming right-hook, earning a frustrated grunt from the Shadowsinger.

“Shut up and fight,” was Azriel’s reply.

“I’d rather we talk it out,” Cassian said, his tone laced with a hint of teasing.

Azriel seethed, his focus narrowing before kicking his legs low, aiming to clip his brother below the knees. Cassian dodged the move effortlessly, only adding to Azriel’s anger.

“It meant nothing Azriel, surely you know that.”

“Flying my mate is not nothing,” Azriel spat, throwing himself for Cassian’s abdomen, wrapping his arms around the General as they both speared to the ground.

The two males fought and wrestled, sounding a series of grunts and roars between them. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Mor discovered the pair, the drapes of her red dress clutched in her hand as she sprinted towards them.

“Azriel! Cassian! What the fuck is going on?”

Azriel ignored the female he had previously felt so much for, no longer did Mor hold any sway over him. Blinded by a surge of possessive hormone-fueled rage, he kept his focus on Cassian – eager to fight for his mate whichever way he could.

“Don’t worry Mor,” Cassian panted, grinning through bloody teeth. “Azriel’s just working out his pent-up emotions, aren’t you brother?”

That earned him a sequence of blows to the face from the Shadowsinger. “Worth it,” Cassian huffed with humour, his eye now blackening as blood poured from his nose.

“Azriel, stop it!” Mor yelled, trying to pry him from where he had now pinned Cassian.

Swirls of night suddenly filled the air as Rhys winnowed in, having heard Mor’s call for help mind to mind.

“Get off him Azriel,” he ordered, waiting for his Spymaster to obey. His order went ignored, and Rhys audibly sighed before catching Azriel’s fists and hauling at his shoulders. Azriel fought back, shaking off Rhys’s hold, unable to overcome his fixation on punishing Cassian.

But Rhys reached again, his voice low and laced with power. “I said get off him. That’s an order.”

Azriel’s body went rigid in response as he let out a frustrated growl. There was no fighting against Rhys’s power. He stood then, turning to face his High Lord with the same look of angst and disgust. Mor rushed to Cassian, propping his arm over her shoulder to help him stand. Cassian had seen worse, but it was clear he had let Azriel land more blows than necessary, letting him use him as a much-needed punching bag.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rhys fumed, his own violet eyes of equal darkness to Azriel’s.

“He flew my mate–“

“I know what he did. None of it is close to a means for you to attack–”

“She is not his to indulge!”

“He did it for her health, Azriel!“ Rhysand sighed now, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know it is difficult to watch us attend to Y/N–”

Azriel interrupted with a scoff. “Difficult? You think it is merely difficult? You ask the impossible of me Rhys!” Azriel pointed a finger at the High Lord, his hand shaking in suppressed rage. Rhys blinked back at him – never had his brother accused him in such a way.

“You say you know what’s best for Y/N, but she is my mate. I know her inside and out, better than any of you ever could. I hear her beckon me, call me through our bond, day and night. Whether she knows it or not, she needs me.”

Azriel’s family watched as his chest heaved in passionate, desperate breaths. “You've held me outcast for too long. Its time. She needs me. And I-I, I need her.”

The group was silent, Azriel’s words hanging in the air. None of them had realised just how much he was hurting, and a mutual guilt settled across the three.

“Please, let me see her. Awake this time.” Azriel’s tone had changed now, hazel eyes swirled with desperation and passion – a mates plea. Rhys was silent as he took in Azriel – his brother hurting so deeply, and was not far from begging. He had never meant to cause Azriel pain, let alone this much. Casting a look to Mor who offered a quick nod back, he sighed.

“Alright Az,” he said tightly. “Should she agree to it.”

————

Feyre was in front of you, her voice a muted melody of nonsense, impossible to hear over the thunder of your own heart.

There, on the other side of that door, was Azriel. And he wanted to see you.

It was as if there were two parts to your being, one that sparked and came to life at the mere mention of his proximity, begging you to join him, tugging at the tether of his direction as if the only place you could ever feel content was right by his side.

But that other part of you, the unmistakable feeling of dread, panic, fear-provoked adrenaline so thick you could feel it course through your veins – that part was just as impossible to ignore. Treatment was yet to unravel the wedge Hybern had driven between you and your mate, and while you knew that logically, there was no telling with how you were going to react. Hurting your family, including Azriel, was what you feared most.

“We’ll be right by your side, and you can leave at any moment you’d like,” Feyre’s soft voice became clearer now, your vision focusing on her gentle face in front of you. You blinked, trying your hardest to concentrate as she explained what would happen if you chose to enter the library and speak with your mate.

“What if I switch again?” Your voice was small, childlike.

“We’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

“But I’ve hurt so many of you in the past.”

“Those were mistakes, we were learning then. Things are different now. No harm will come to you or anyone else in that room, I promise.”

You nodded, trusting her every word. Feyre would sit by your side, and Rhys by Azriel’s, that way there was enough magic to intervene if things went wrong.

Running shaky hands down your sweater, you suddenly felt self conscious. What kind of state were you in to see you mate for the first time in months? What would you say? What would he say?

“Don’t fret,” Feyre smiled at you. “You always look beautiful, and Azriel would never think otherwise.”

“I’m not really sure what to say to him.”

“You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. But be honest with yourself, don’t feel the need to be pleasant or filter things for anyone else benefit. You deserve that, Y/N.”

You smiled tightly back at your High Lady. “It’s hard to believe you’re not nearly as old as the rest of us,” you joked, perhaps your first in many months.

Feyre’s cheeks blushed lightly as she laughed. “You’re too kind.”

Turning to face the door, you drew a long breath and squared your shoulders. I will not snap. I will not shift. I will not hurt anyone, no matter how scared I am. Repeating the sentence over and over in your head, you turned the handle of the door, entering the library to meet your mate.

————

Part 8 >>>

AN: Another day, another part to this series – hope you enjoyed!! Thank you with all my heart for the support so far, it means more than you could know!! 💕 Comment if you’d like to join the tag list 🌙 MWA

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 5

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Mentions of sex (18+)

Words: 1,925

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Part 5 ∇

The winds were unusually gentle that night, the air still and quiet as Rhys winnowed to the roof. Atop of the house, there was no sign of the chaos that had unravelled earlier, the bedlam of your latest episode concealed within the walls.

Rhys expected to find Azriel pacing, his shadows sharp with panic and fret like the all other nights. He waited for Az to approach him immediately, hazel eyes darting between his own as he begged for any good news of his mate.

But tonight the Shadowsinger stayed sitting, his long legs draped off the side of the house, shadows low as they coiled in on themselves. Rhys noted the droop of his wings, the moonlight casting a long brooding shadow behind him, almost as melancholic as him. His brother looked truly alone.

Making his way over, Rhys sat silently next to Azriel, moving his own legs over the edge of the roof. Now that he was closer, he could see the tear tracks that stained Azriel’s face, and a surge of sympathy coursed through the High Lord.

“Az–” he started, his voice laced with remorse for their brawl earlier.

“She’s stopped screaming.” Azriel’s voice was distant, and while his words clung to that last kernel of hope, his tone was flat, more defeated than it had ever sounded. His eyes didn't leave the night sky.

Rhys cleared his throat. “Yes. Feyre willed her asleep.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his gaze unmoving.

“She made progress tonight.”

Azriel cast a sideways look to Rhys, his brows pulled in question.

“Feyre and Mor. She said their names, remembered who they were.”

“Did she snap?”

“Not until she heard the other triggers.”

Azriel’s closed his eyes then, lips pressed as he prepared for what he knew Rhys would confirm. “It was my name again, wasn’t it?”

Rhys’s violet eyes darted over Azriel’s face, wincing at the pain he knew he was about to cause. After a deep breath, he answered. “Yes.”

Azriel nodded tightly, opening his eyes and returning his gaze to the array of stars above. Rhys studied him, unsure of how to comfort his brother.

It was then that Azriel truly and utterly broke. A sob escaped the male, his head falling to his hands. His body shook as silent cries escaped him, tears hidden in his palms as shadows swirled up his frame, eager to comfort their master.

Rhys was on his brother in an instant, pulling him in a tight hold. He could feel each breath the Shadowsinger took, and each cry that left in its place. “It’s alright Az, it’ll be alright,” he soothed.

Azriel couldn't respond if he wanted to. He couldn't stop his despondency from bubbling over, too overcome to pry himself from his brother, to hold himself up. All he could do was cry.

A flap of wings and a gentle thud sounded from behind them, and another set of strong arms cradled Azriel, red siphons glowing against his blue ones.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a pained look, neither of them needing to note how rare it was to see Azriel in such a state. In fact, it was the first time for either of them.

“She made progress Az,” Cassian said gently, leaning closer to his brother’s ear.

Azriel nodded through the cries that racked through him, acknowledging the glimmer of hope that remained. It was the only thing that kept him grounded, here with his brothers. Without it, he knew he would lose himself to his rage. And his brothers – they had fought just as hard to find his mate as he had. They hadn’t stop trying now that she was home. He had never been more grateful for his family.

“M’sorry I fought you,” Azriel said, his voice shaky as his tried to get a hold of his breathing.

“Don’t be,” Rhys responded, giving him a comforting shake. “I hate to have forced you to leave, I took no pleasure in it.”

“No, no. I understand. It’s my instinct, you know? It just… it takes over and I can't find a way to stop.”

Cassian and Rhys nodded, knowing exactly how that felt.

“She’s asleep now,” Rhys added with suggestion.

Azriel snapped his head to his High Lord. “You mean–?”

“Just don't wake her.”

Azriel nodded, standing immediately at the chance to finally get close to his mate. After a few fast steps, he halted to a stop, looking back at his brothers over his shoulder. “I… I”m grateful for both of you. Thank you.”

“We know Az,” Cassian said with a small smile. “We love you too.”

————

Azriel’s hand shook against the door handle of the clinic, his own anticipation like a dog pulling on it’s lead. Pushing the door open with caution, he felt it immediately – what remained of the mating bond, while frayed and thin, began to warm from within. It sang to him, pulling him closer to the medical bed at the centre of the room.

His heart broke at the sight of you. It was the first time he had seen you since the camp, and while your skin looked brighter and your clothes were now clean, the signs of your ongoing recovery was still incredibly evident. How small and frail you looked – bruises spotted across your arms from the leather belts, your hands laced with scratch marks, and deep purple bags set under your eyes from sheer exhaustion.

It took every ounce of strength the Shadowsinger had to not caress the side of your face, to not reach out stroke your hair in the motion he knew you loved. Instead, he forced himself to sit, gripping the sides of the stool to suppress his instinct to touch you.

“Oh, Y/N,” he whispered, casting his eyes up and down your body, his brows clenched in agony. “I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

You slept, chest moving with slow breaths – unhearing, unmoving.

“They say you’re making progress my love. I'm so proud that you are trying.” Indeed, Azriel’s heart swelled at the thought. “If only I could take your pain away, or help you in some way.”

The bond warmed then, reacting on your unconscious behalf. It sparked an idea in him.

Closing his eyes, Azriel cast his most cherished memory down that golden tether, reliving the moment you accepted the mating bond.

“You’ve known for how long?” you scowled at the male, arms crossed at your chest as you tapped your foot impatiently.

“A few weeks,” Azriel replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as he tried not to blush. He’d never admit it, but he was shit scared of you right now. Harsh eyes sizing him up, so demanding, so powerful. He would journey the lengths of the world just to have you set those eyes on him, even for just even a moment.

“Weeks? Azriel! You didn't think so much as to tell me?”

“I was waiting for you to feel it yourself.”

You sighed then, pinching your nose as you shook your head. You turned from him, hiding the smile that tugged at your lips. You had a mate. Azriel was your mate.

Unable to withstand his own doubts of you requiting the bond, Azriel began to babble. “It happened on Solstice, right when we exchanged our gifts. You were delighting in the ancient scrolls I got you, and when you hugged me, it snapped into place.”

“Is that why you looked so alarmed?”

“Yes. Your scent was overwhelming, it was hard to stay focused. I felt the bond then, sending trills of your own happiness coursing through my own veins. I realised then I would do anything to make you smile, to make you as happy and as joyous as you were on that day.”

Tears begin to well at your own eyes, and you turned to your mate, finding his hazel eyes shining in the same way.

“I couldn't help but thank the Cauldron for having created such a purposeful fate. Because not only was I mated to a female as kind and strong and intelligent as you, but I was mated to someone I had loved for many years prior.”

Tears flowed freely then. “Oh, Az.” You rushed to him, his large arms encompassing you as you shared you first kiss. It was passionate, yet gentle, fierce, yet loving – the true balance of the bond you began to feel forming in your own being.

“I love you too,” you smiled against his lips, a small laugh escaping you, for all that was good in the world.

Azriel’s honey eyes glowed with warmth and desire, his nose nudging yours before closing his lips over yours again. He pulled away, burying himself in your neck as he breathed in his scent. “Your are my purpose to live.”

You baked Azriel a hazelnut cake that evening, even though he insisted a slice of stale bread would have more than sufficed, his own desires to be mated making him impatient. But you were adamant on the sentiment – the cake being a personal favourite of his, and nod to your everlasting friendship as it evolved into something new. He was your best friend, and now the single most important person in your life. You wanted to cook him something as special as he.

Only a few bites of the cake were eaten before Azriel had taken you on the kitchen counter, amongst the dustings of flour and baking supplies. The sex had been gentle at first, and unlike anything you had ever felt before. Every inch of you was stimulated, physically and mentally, and the connection of the bond allowed you to share pleasure and intimacy in ways you didn't know possible. It wasn't long until your love-making become more heated – frantic and needy, completely driven by the surge of hormones and magic that bound you together.

You stayed in the cabin Azriel had brought you to, enjoying the privacy to explore your new bond. You went on walks in the forest, cuddling at the fireplace and talking through the night, discussing your upmost fears and greatest desires. Any spare moments were filled with sensual, heated sex, limbs tangled together as you sweat and writhed together, the both of you insatiable for the other.

It took a full fortnight before you could convince Azriel to return to your lives and the rest of your family, earlier suggestions being met with low growls from the Shadowsinger as a protective instinct took over, unwilling to share you with the rest of the world. You had teased him, calling him a possessive male with a roll of your eyes and a smirk on your lips. You were right, but he would not apologise for it. You were his, to love and protect and serve, from now until the end of his existence.

And from the quiet of the clinic, Azriel sent these memories down the bond.

Ever so slightly, he could feel the rope strengthen, as if old frayed tethers found new ways to weave together. He froze when you stirred, his eyes wide as he synched his breath, worried to have woken you. But you kept on sleeping, a softer expression now resting on your face, you cheeks dusted with a hint of colour.

Azriel gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Cauldron. He had finally uncovered a way to help you. Sending another course of love through to you, Azriel took a breath of contentment – his first in many months.

--------

Part 6 >>>

AN: Thank you to everyone who has been following this story along, I hope you liked part 5!! As always, I’d love to hear your feedback, and if you’d like to join the Overwritten tag list or my general ACOTAR one, just drop a comment below :) MUCH LOVE! ❤️❤️❤️

Tags: @hyacinthoideshispanica @kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468 @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars @lucyysthings @valeridarkness @alw-aysjanuary @brekkershadowsinger @ladygloucester @ciannemar83 @wiitchkiller @xtreme-shipper @thorslonglocks @im-bili @kexrtiz @shadowcrowsworld @lillithathecat @marina468 @aroseinvelaris @cynicalpotato95 @goldentournesol @maddithefangirl @holywolfsstuff @banasheefan56 @banasheefan56 @im-bili @v1olentdelights @cardanenthusiast @mandarin-lmao @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @ttreader @shadowsingersmate24 @auggiesolovey @percyjacksonspeen @starxqt @reiincarnatiion @thefandomplace

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,069

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Part 6 ∇

A faint drizzle coated the window, blurring the view of the cluster of winding cobble streets and sparkling river that ran through Velaris. It was hard to imagine yourself strolling this city, browsing shopfronts and dining at restaurants, arms linked with your friends, your family, even your mate.

But as impossible as that felt, it had been your life – or so your family told you. You hadn't the faintest idea of your life before Hybern, your favourite past times, music, food, genre of books – all of it was as foreign to you as the people that insisted on helping. But the way they described it, the way they described you, it was clear you had been happy. Overwhelmingly so.

“Does that book not interest you?”

Behind you, Rhys and Feyre stood together, friendly smiles on both their faces as the High Lord wrapped an arm around his mate’s waist. You looked down at the book in your hands, forgetting you had even come here to read.

After many weeks of treatment, seeing their faces and hearing their voices had become more bearable. You were no longer triggered into episodes of violent hysteria that you could not remember, instead a dull headache would throb behind your eyes, but you managed to stay composed, forever fighting those voices in your head.

The journey to come this far had been exhausting and painful, but you were proud to have moved from the medical wing to your own chambers. Outside of the ongoing treatments with Feyre and Mor you were free to explore the townhouse, the library being your favourite sanction despite how often you were too tired to read. The Inner Circle would check in frequently, all except Azriel. As you were told, his presence was too high of a risk to unravel the progress you had made. You tried not to think about how that must hurt him.

Turning to the couple now, you forced yourself to return their smile before clearing your throat. “I’m not sure romance novels have my interest.” Despite her good intentions, Nesta’s taste in books were not something you could indulge in at this time. It took just one chapter for flustered-ridden heat to stain your cheeks, and you were far too shy to explain that to a house of strangers.

Feyre laughed softly, while Rhys’s smile grew to a grin. Your High Lady walked over, gently taking the book from you and instead held your hands in hers. You couldn't help the thud of your heart. While you found Feyre to be the most approachable of them all, her kindness and empathy radiating just as her beauty did, it was hard not to associate her with the physical and mental labour it took to undergo your treatments.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at your High Lady. “Are we due for another session?” you asked, cursing your child-like vulnerability. You hated being like this.

Feyre smiled softly in return, understanding written all over her face. “No, not today. I actually wanted to invite you to an event. An afternoon tea, tomorrow.”

You cocked your eyebrow, glancing back at your High Lord, who offered a nod of assurance. “Afternoon tea?”

“Yes, at our house by the river.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your heart’s thunder. “That’s very kind,” you forced yourself to say.

The High Lord and Lady waited for more. You hadn't left the townhouse yet, and the world beyond that was so unfamiliar. What if you were triggered into another episode? Who might get hurt this time? You would hate yourself even more if you harmed any of these kind people again.

Feyre, catching the spiral of thoughts that twisted in your mind, spoke quickly to reassure you. “It will be a small group, Mor, Nesta, Elain and Amren. Just an afternoon with tea and cakes. We would winnow you there and back, and you can leave anytime you want.”

You swallowed as you tried to picture what that must look like. An afternoon tea – with friends. It was hard to imagine yourself talking and laughing amongst them.

“It could be fun,” Rhys added, walking over now.

Looking at Feyre’s hands that still held yours, you didn't want to offended her by rejecting the invitation. Trusting that she always had your best interest at heart, you forced another smile. “I think that would be nice.” Both of them shared a small breath in relief, almost unnoticeable.

“Excellent!” Feyre clapped, before moving to her mate and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I need to check on Nyx, but I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N. Try and get some rest.”

You offered a short smile back before she bounced out of the room, and waited for Rhys to do the same. Instead, he kept his violet eyes fixed on you. There was a moment of silence before you shifted in your seat, uncomfortable under his gaze. “Please don't use your mind magic right now,” you asked softly. Again, so child-like. You were weak still, and all you could do was plead for your own privacy.

“I wouldn't without permission, unless the situation is dire,” he replied calmly.

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the window. You believed him, at this stage you had no reason not to. To your surprise the rain had stopped, but tumbles of grey clouds still plagued the sky, dimming the vibrancy of the outside world.

“I’m curious,” Rhysand spoke, drawing you back to the room. “This is the third day you’ve sat in this chair, staring out of this exact window.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and you tried to hide your annoyance. You knew you were under surveillance – every behaviour, every quirk assessed and judged and analysed. Despite your families best intentions, it was completely alienating, and served as a constant reminder of how dangerous you truly were, and that you could not to be trusted.

Rhys waited for you to respond, his gaze patient, as if he would wait forever until you told him how you truly felt. “It’s a nice view,” you shrugged, not really sure of what else to say.

“The Sidra is spectacular,” he agreed.

“I care more for the shopfronts and restaurants,” you added, nodding your chin to where they splayed miles away.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow, moving to lean against the arm of your chair. “Why’s that?” he asked gently.

You shrugged again, suddenly self conscious. Had you overshared? Or maybe it would be used against you? Did he think you had intentions to harm the people of Velaris, and were plotting from his very home? The breath that left you then was heavy, weighted. How could you convince him, all of them, that you never meant them any harm?

Rhys waited for an answer again, his patience admirable. With a sigh, you gave in. “I suppose… it’s where life beckons.”

“Ah.”

You looked up at him now, the High Lord so casual with his arms folded across his chest. His friendliness and ease was not a forced thing, that much you could tell.

“We must have been close friends,” you noted. You could be observant too.

A half-smile formed on his face as he flicked his eyes down to you. “We attended education lessons together. 486 years ago.”

486 years. Gods, knowing how many forgotten memories laid in that span of time made your mind reel. You bought a quick hand to your temple, clenching through the pain as your mind sifted to remember just one of those moments. You drew up blank.

“Shall I ease it?” Rhys offered, his magic serving as useful pain relief these past months.

“No, no. It’s bearable,” you replied, rubbing your temples before blinking your eyes open again. You were well practiced at recovering from the headaches. “Classmates then?” you spoke through a tight jaw.

Rhys’s grin returned, as a wicked memory flashed in his eyes. “You were a bad influence,” he laughed, nudging you in the arm.

“I was?”

“Always trying to convince me to skip class and take you flying instead.”

You let out a small laugh, dropping your head in embarrassment. “Sorry,” was all you could say.

“Don’t be. I didn't need much convincing.”

“Still trying to relive the glory days Rhys?” a gruff voice chimed in from the doorway. Cassian didn't wait for an answer before he walked to the other side of your chair, peering out of the window you all faced. “What are we looking at?”

“I was just telling Y/N about how we used to spend our time outside of our lessons.”

Cassian chuckled with a knowing nod. “I always said you should have been born with wings yourself Y/N. You’re the only non-Illyrian I know who enjoys flying as much as we do.”

You gave Cassian a smile. It was comforting to hear them both speak about you so knowingly. “I’ll admit, it does sound exhilarating.”

“Well, what about a quick flight now?”

You almost gawked at the tall male. You hadn't even left the house yet, could you truly handle something like flying? It was instinct to cast an unknown glance at Rhys, who was already smiling at you.

“You don’t need permission Y/N,” Rhys levelled your look. “Do as you feel comfortable.”

“Besides, you need the fresh air,” Cassian added, his tone teasing.

You bit your lip as you pondered your choices, excitement brewing in your belly – a unique, distinct feeling that called with such familiarity. “Alright,” you said tightly.

Cassian whooped, before extending a formal hand to the door, the other offered to you. “Your flight awaits,” he joked with the wiggle of his eyebrows. If you hadn’t been so nervous, you might have laughed.

Cassian escorted you to the nearby verandah, flexing his wings as he prepared to take off. “I’ll go slow sweetheart, and if at any point you want to stop, just say the word.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as strong arms scooped you from your knees, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Why don't you do the honours. You do remember how to count, right?”

With a roll of your eyes, you began. “One.”

Wings flared then – dark, massive things, their breadth consuming the space around you.

“Two.”

Cassian braced himself, his knees bent for takeoff.

“Thr–”

Your words were cut off as you were launched into the sky. You clung tight to Cassian, who laughed freely in your ear. The flap of his wings was faint against the roar of the winds, you hair whipping this way and that.

Cassian speared higher and higher before momentum paid off and he was able to glide.

You dared to look beneath you. The city of Velaris, while faint under the overcast clouds, was still vibrant and bustling, full of life. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air feel your lungs. Cassian had been right – you did love flying.

“Enjoying yourself?” Cassian spoke loudly, at competition with the winds.

“Very much so!” you yelled back, your smile widening every minute you spent in the air. For who you were now, this was your first time flying. You had never known such exhilarating joy.

Up ahead, rain clouds loomed in threatening darkness. “I’ll have to turn us around,” Cassian spoke, steering his body sideways as he made for a wide turn in the sky. You knew it was a half-excuse, and he likely didn't want to push you physically. But you didn't mind, this wouldn't be your last time flying – that you would make sure of.

Soon enough, Cassian had landed you safely back at the townhouse.

“You look healthier already,” he grinned, flicking your nose. You couldn't help yourself as you rushed at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Cassian took a moment of surprise before hugging you back, placing a few firm pats on your back.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

No longer able to hide the bite of the cold that nipped at you, you pulled away from Cassian, offering him another wide smile before heading inside. He watched you enter the house, his breathing heavy from the exertion of the flight.

It was heavy enough that he didn't hear the Shadowsinger approach.

Cassian didn’t have enough time to dodge the scarred fist that swung for his face.

--------

Part 7 >>>

AN: Thank you for all of the kind feedback for this story so far, and I’m sorry this took me so long to get out! Appreciate each and every one of you ❤️ Comment to join the tag list 💕🌙

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 1

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

AN: It’s the final one! Day 5/5 stories for 500 followers. Thank you to lillithathecat for requesting trope 2. Amnesia, and thank you to anyone who followed this journey or who joined along the way 💕

Warnings: Violence, torture, injuries

Words: 2,232

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Part 1 ∇

Poison coursed through your veins, burning as it raced through your body. Screaming, you jerked against your restraints. Your mind was reeling, and you couldn't tell if this was a dream or a waking nightmare. Flashes of white, the memory of someone yelling your name, and the same male reaching for you over and over again.

That male – there was something about him. His hazel, almost golden eyes, the peaks of wings that reached above his handsome face, the pure panic in his voice as he reached for you…

Oh gods, it wasn’t just any male, it was Azriel. He was your mate!

Your heart leapt as your brain screamed at you to remember him, to fight for him. “Azriel!” you screeched, gasping as you were bought back into the dark and damp setting around you, thrashing against the leather bounds at your wrists and ankles.

“Give her another shot,” a cold voice spoke.

“No! No, please!!” you begged, trying to blink through your hallucinations and tears.

“Now remember, Y/N.” The voice drawled closer now. “This is what you will feel when you think of him. This is how much he can hurt you. The only way to stop it, is to kill him.”

“He’ll find you,” you seethed. “He’ll find you and kill you all!” Your were feral, thrashing again as you spat in the direction of the voice. Howling at the sharp sting at your neck, your eyes rolled back as another round of poison rushed through your bloodstream, the pain all consuming. Your veins were on fire, and you drooled through clenched teeth as your body spasmed this way and that. Heart pounding with adrenaline and fear, you succumbed to another round of torture.

It had been weeks, or maybe even months since Hybern’s army had stolen you in the night. Instead of killing you, they had taken to torturing you, hijacking your mind and using poison to turn you against the Night Court, your family, and your mate.

Everyday they tied you to that chair, and everyday they injected a poison while manipulating your visions, coaching you to become the enemy of your own home. You were terrified of what they would do to you, but even more terrified at the monster you were becoming.

The bond between you and Azriel frayed a little further each time, and you felt yourself slipping away. You're only hope was that he would find you before you completely disappeared.

————

3 months later

Azriel grazed his fingers over truth teller, his leathers strapped more firmly than they had ever been. He tried to calm his breathing, at least for the sake of his shadows, that now lashed and whipped uncontrollably. But it was no use.

“It’ll be alright brother,” Rhys said, placing a sure hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “We’ve found her, and we’re getting her out.”

“Let me join you.”

“No,” Rhys said tightly. “I know the urge to protect your mate, to kill for her. It’ll make a mess of things when we need them to go smoothly. You’re to stay here. That’s an order.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he felt Rhys’s power course through his words. He’d be here – waiting. He had no other choice.

“We’ll get her back,” Cassian chimed in, checking his leathers and stretching his arm across his chest. “I promise you brother.”

Azriel nodded tightly, unable to convey any gratitude over the gnawing anxiety and primal desire to burst into the prison and ripped the heads of every guard in sight. There, in that building, was his mate. His mate, who had been stolen from right under his nose, and he hadn't been wise enough to stop it. His mate, who’d been missing for months, and no matter how many sleepless nights he spent slaving over maps and records, he still couldn't find you. And every time you were hurt, he could feel you slipping away, the bond weakening every so slightly. He didn't know what state you’d be in, he only knew what he felt – the very last fragments of a withered bond, calling him from inside that building.

Rhys and Cassian gave Azriel one final nod before winnowing to the prison, leaving him in the silence of the night. A cold wind howled as he watched from the darkness, his shadows begging to follow his brothers inside. It could be minutes, it could be hours – every second was torture for the Shadowsinger.

————

Asleep in your cot, your ankle was chained to the metal frame as you slept completely still from exhaustion.

Each day ended like this, and they all blurred into each other. The guards would throw you into your cell, sliding a tray of greyish food and stale bread on the floor before chaining you to the bed. You were often too tired to eat, and while your first weeks had been spent clawing at the door, screaming and throwing your food in protest, you had weakened so quickly, and it now took everything you had to haul yourself up onto the thin mattress.

Tonight was as cold as the rest of them, the thin stained covers barely doing a thing to warm you. You shivered your way through a nightmare, the poison still active in your blood. A winged creature approached you, it’s hazel eyes glowing as claws grew at it’s fingers, it’s snarl ripping into a roar as it lunged for your throat.

Jolting awake, you heard sounds of commotion outside your cell. Your heart thumped as you pulled the covers over you tightly. They’d be here soon, to claim you from your bed. Then the pain would start.

After a few yells you heard a large thud, and then footsteps. They were getting closer and closer, and you curled up into a ball, clenching your eyes shut, begging to be anywhere else.

“Y/N?” you heard a male ask. Your body jerked at the sound of his voice, refusing to raise your head or even open your eyes. An uncontrollable shake quickly overtook your whole body.

“Y/N, is that you? Hang on doll, we’re going to get you outta here.”

You heard the male grunt as he pried and forced the cell door open. “Rhys!” he called, and you could now note two sets of footsteps. The sound of the metal door grinding open filled your ears, and you had no choice but to face the threat that awaited.

Sitting up in your cot, you clambered to the end of your bed, as far away from the males as you could get.

“Oh Y/N, thank the Cauldron you’re alive!” A male with dark hair wore a broken smile, his body sagging in relief as his purple eyes glowed in the darkness of your cell.

You used your legs to push yourself further back, unable to stop the quiver in your voice. “L-leave me alone.” It was not a voice you recognised – instead it was raspy, broken, and a little sick sounding. You wondered when the last time you actually spoke was.

You saw the purple-eyed male exchange a look with the other, his red siphons glowing as he stepped closer, reaching out a hand. “Y/N, it’s us, Cassian and Rhys.”

A white light filled your eyes then, clouding your vision as your ears rang. Furious visions filled your mind at the mention of their names, and a headache so painful pierced through your brain that you had to clutch at your head to stop it. You let out a howl, blinded by dangerous and violent visions. They must be the people Hybern had warned you about – they’re here to kill you.

You leapt from your bed, scrambling as far back as the chain would let you. You knew how you must look – hair a mess, eyes wild, your tunic stained and dirty as you shook like a meek animal. “Fuck off,” you spat, trying to sound as aggressive as you could.

The purple-eyed male stepped forward then, slowly making his way over with his palms raised. You pushed yourself against the chain, your ankle throbbing in protest. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you as the male knelt down, and you pulled your knees up and hugged them, your last attempt to protect yourself.

“It’s ok, we’re not going to hurt you,” the male said gently. He was close enough that you could smell him, his scent familiar, yet disarming. Your clenched your eyes shut, the headache piercing through again. “We’re here to take you home.”

Snapping your lids open, your eyes darted between the violet ones before you. Home. You didn’t remember having a home, you didn’t remember much before this.

“You’re lying,” you hissed, cowering into your filthy tunic. The male’s brow clenched in what you thought might be sympathy, and he cast another glance back to his counterpart.

“I assure you, you can trust us. How about we get you out of this chain?” You stared wide-eyed as the taller-male walked over, kneeling at your ankle and pulling a large knife from his side. You cowered at the sight, swords, knives and sharp things were all too familiar.

“It’s ok,” the long-haired male soothed. “I’m just going to cut the chain here.” You stared as he raised a strong arm, before swinging it down against the metal links. The chain broke immediately, metal clinking to the ground, and the male returned his weapon to it’s sheath.

“There we are,” the purple-eyed male said, and you remembered he had called himself Rhys. “Now we can get you out of here. Do you think you can stand, Y/N? Or perhaps you might let us carry you?”

Another flash of white filled your vision then, and as instinct took over, you found yourself clawing for the males face, trying to hurt him in any way possible. Rhys stepped back smoothly, his brow pulling in concern as Cassian quickly caught your wrists, pulling folding them over your own chest as he held flush against him, likely stopping you from hurting yourself more than anyone else. You continued to scream and thrash, trying to break from his hold.

“Put her out of her misery, Rhys.”

Rhysand shot you a soft look before gently placing the back of his hand on your forehead, his hand cool to your clammy skin. “I’m sorry Y/N. But it’s for your own good.”

It was the last thing you heard before a ring struck your ears, and the world melted to black.

————

He scented you before he saw you. Winnowing in front of his brothers the moment they arrived, Azriel’s body froze as he took in your lifeless form.

“Oh gods, oh gods, is she–?“

“She’s asleep,” Rhys answered, his wings disappearing as he caught Azriel by the shoulders, pushing him up as his brother sagged in relief.

Cassian handed Azriel his unconscious mate, your body slack with painless sleep.

Azriel’s couldn’t help his tears. “Oh gods, oh Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he cried, weeping into your neck as he rocked you. “There’s nothing left of her,” he claimed, noting your weak and disheveled figure. How light you felt compared to the last time he held you.

“We’ll get her the help she needs,” Cassian reassured him, clasping a tight hand on his shoulder. “She’s with you now, she’s safe.”

Azriel couldn't help the sob of relief that racked through him. He breathed in your scent, and while it was changed, underneath there was a hint of you. It was the scent he had longed to breath in for months now, the scent that had faded from your home, your clothes, your bed. Azriel’s wings flared as he soaked it in, pressing you tighter to him.

“She should see the healer. Let me winnow her back to our base.” Rhys reached for your body, unthinking of what he might be asking in a moment like this.

Azriel’s cries were immediately replaced with a predatory snarl as he stepped back from Rhys, snatching your sleeping body and pulling you closer to his chest.

“I just got her back,” he growled, his voice low and animalistic. You were the only thing stopping him from exploding, from launching at his brother.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look before Rhys gathered himself, raising his palms. “I know, Az, I know. I’m not taking her away, I can just see your emotional, and thought you might want to deal with those who remain in the prison.”

Azriel’s eyes glowed at the suggestion, the instinct to rip each and every guards head off was almost as primal as the one to keep you pressed against his chest and to never let go. His voice was thick as he stared past Rhys, straight at the prison. “I will be the one to see to my mate’s wellbeing. Round up the survivors. I want them alive and in my chamber.”

Cassian nodded at that, turning to do the work for his brother.

“Feyre’s called the healer to your tent, they await your arrival,” Rhys said.

Azriel steadied himself as he ran his eyes over your bruised and ashy face, bringing a gentle scarred finger to run down your gaunt cheek. “Let’s get you home,” he said softly, before evaporating into a winnow, Rhys close behind him.

--------

Part 2 >>>>

AN: Suuurrrprise! It’s time for another Azriel series. While I fully intended for this to be a one shot, I’m so excited to explore the idea of a brainwashed reader. Think Hunger Games Peeta being tortured by the Capitol (in fact, that was my direct inspiration).

I so so hope you liked Part 1, please let me know if you’d like to join the tag list for this series in the comments. And as always, I love you, thank you for reading/liking/comment/reblogging or following – all of it means so much.

Tag list: Tag list:@kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468 @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 3

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Violence

Words: 1,384

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Part 3 ∇

Ripped from the white abyss, you gasped awake in an unfamiliar place. Had Azriel finally claimed you? Were you dead?

Clutching at your clothes – you felt the rough fabric of the tunic you had always worn. Surely you wouldn't still wear a thing like this in the afterlife? Heart pounding from the poison-fuelled hallucination, you ran a shaky hand through your hair, doing your best to calm your breathing.

“Y/N?” someone said from beside you. You froze at the sound, your stomach sinking. You knew that voice.

With wide eyes you forced yourself to look, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. There, in the flesh, was Azriel.

His demonic wings reached high above his head, blue siphons glaring just as they did in your nightmares. He was broad, strong, with weapons strapped to his frame – a threat in every way. There was no sign of a forked tongue, hellish red eyes or the sinister smile, but the shadows were here – speaking to him, likely advising on the thousands of different ways to kill you without him having to lift a finger.

You saw the male’s mouth move, but panic was a roar in your ears, making it impossible to hear. A slow hand reached across the bed you lay in, and you watched it with a deadly glare. He was surely going to kill you. Still, you were unable to move, frozen in utter and pathetic fear.

Do it quick, you found yourself begging.

You heard him then. “Y/N? It’s me, Azriel.”

Pain sliced through your mind as a white light flashed before your eyes. That cold, unfeeling voice that had coached you for so long ringing through your ears.

Azriel is an unmatched evil. He will kill you. The only hope you stand is to kill him first.

And as venom took over, you found yourself reverting to the animalistic instinct that protected you for so long. He would not get the chance to kill you – today was his day to die.

Spearing Azriel to the ground, you felt poison course through your veins, fuelling you with venomous strength as you pinned him down. Pushing your thumbs into the crevice of his throat, you gritted your teeth, cutting off his air supply.

Azriel’s eyes were wide with shock as he tried to pry your hands off.

“Y/N!” he gasped, his voice straining through your grip. “Stop.”

He was strong – but you had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Your freedom, control of your own mind, your life. He would not take that away.

You pushed your thumbs further, trying to close the gap in his throat and forcing his head into the ground. Blood was building in the Shadowsinger’s face, his tan skin quickly changing to a deep red. Shadows began to spasm around him.

“I d-don’t want to hurt you,” he gasped, his hands slackening against your wrists. Good, you thought – not long now.

The male threw you a final pleading look, one that you were sure was meant to disarm you. You would not let go until he had taken his last breath.

Scarred hands on your wrists tightened then, forcing your fingers to unbind from his neck. Your eyes widened, and it was then that you realised he had not been using all his strength until now. Azriel pulled your arms of him, spreading them wide while you still straddled his body to the floor. Now in an incredibly vulnerable position, you new he would try and pin you under him if he got the chance.

Swinging your legs off, you pulled your wrists flush against yourself, freeing from his grasp. You practically kicked him to scramble to your own two feet, Azriel quickly standing too, his palms open as you now faced each other, neither of you daring to move.

“Y/N,” he panted as he regained his breath, the blood now moving from his face. Fuck – you had missed your chance.

Azriel was capable of dark, demonic things, an evil magic brewed within him – it was the only truth you knew. So you also knew, you had a better chance of running than fighting. Scanning the tent for an exit, you saw the only path in or out was blocked by the tall male, his wings flared like a net that would surely trap you if you were stupid enough to try.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft. Your ground your jaw at the blatant lie, and launched for him again.

This time, he knew it was coming, and caught your arms before you could wrap them around his neck. “Y/N, please, stop fighting!”

You couldn't help the feral snarl that escaped you, your teeth bared as you kicked his stomach, sending him stumbling back. You aimed for his shoulders, pushing him into the wooden unit and knocking you both to the ground, medical supplies sprawling, glass bottles breaking around you.

You were on him again, pinning him so easily – almost as if he let you. Azriel kept his palms raised as your hands found his neck again.

“Fight me if you have to, Y/N. I will never hurt you back.”

Your vicious glare softened as you took in his words, your lips pressing to a thin line. Azriel was stronger, he had proven that. Yet here he was, lying prone beneath you, completely at your mercy. Was he residing to his fate? Would he let you kill him?

You shook your head – mind games was all this was. “Liar,” you snarled, tightening your chokehold around his neck.

And he let you. He let you press your thumbs into the crevice of his throat, let you force his head to the ground again and again, blind rage and the desperate need to kill consuming you.

I love you.

You blinked, your grip slackening ever so slightly. That voice – it was far away, but somehow from within.

I love you, Y/N.

Azriel hadn't spoken, but you had heard his voice clear as day – within your heart or stomach you didn't know. And it terrified you.

You had to finish the job, to end him now before that voice could infiltrate your mind further. Freedom beckoned at you, light and promising, and so so close. With bloodthirsty rage, you pressed the final breath out of the Shadowsinger.

That was, until you felt a blow so forceful it could be heard. Before you could turn and snarl, shadows and night had consumed your vision, and purple eyes were the last thing you saw before everything went black.

————

“That did not go well.” Rhys straightened, leaving your unconscious body on the floor as he want to help his brother stand. Azriel coughed, regaining his breath yet again as bruises were quickly forming around his neck. Rhys held out a hand, propping the Shadowsinger up as his shadows hung limp, as if they too needed to regain their strength.

“She strangled the hell out of you,” he commented.

Azriel didn't answer, his stance broken as he looked at you slumped on the ground. You looked like yourself, his beautiful, peaceful, caring mate. Whoever attacked him just now, that was not her.

“You were going to let her kill you brother?” Rhys asked, his tone confused with a hint of dismay. Rhys knew the lengths he would go to protect Feyre, but allowing one mate to kill the other was something he couldn’t comprehend.

Azriel limped over, bending down and scooping your body to his chest. His eyes darting across your slack face – such a juxtaposition from the feral, snarling female that was going to kill him just moments ago.

“She needed to know I would never hurt her,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

Rhys nodded gravely, stepping out of the way as the Shadowsinger lay you back on the bed, pulling the covers over you and brushing a tangled strand of hair from your face.

“It seems we have a lot of work to do.” Rhys noted, his tone grim.

Azriel finally looked at his brother. “What if I never get her back?” He was broken, the hope he held earlier lost in the violent sprawl with his mate. Even his shadows kept close, not daring near you.

Rhys clasped his hands on Azriel’s shoulders, levelling a look at him. “We will brother. Feyre has a plan.”

--------

Part 4 >>>

AN: I wish I could say writing a tonne of violence isn’t fun... but I’d be lying. I hope you liked this chapter, I would love any feedback on the story so far! Comment to join the tag list too. MWA 💕

#azriel #azriel x reader #Azriel series #acotar series #rhysand #azriel angst #azriel mate #azriel brainwashed #acotar brainwashed #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x brainwashed reader #azriel amnesia #acotar amnesia #sarah j maas #azriel acotar #azriel pov #azriel x kidnapped reader

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 2

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Violence, torture, injuries

Words: 1,472

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Part 2 ∇

“Oh my word!” Feyre ran towards the Spymaster while he waded through the grass of the camp ground, your unconscious body still close to his chest. “Is she alright?”

Azriel didn't answer as he stalked past, his eyes focused forward as he geared for his tent – your tent. Rhys caressed his mate’s face, catching her up mind to mind.

As promised, Madja was already inside, preparing the cot and supplies she may need. She hurried over to the Shadowsinger as soon as he burst through the entrance, not waiting for him to set you down to make her initial observations. While you were limp in his arms, Madja pressed her fingers to your wrist and placed the back of her palm against your clammy forehead, tutting under her breath.

While he didnt dare speak, Azriel’s golden eyes swirled with desperation, his gaze begging her for good news. His shadows hovered around you, doing their best to keep away as Madja assessed you. Drawing her hands back across her chest, she let out a quick breath.

“She’ll live,” she said plainly, Azriel’s figure sagging in relief for the third time that night. “She’s severely malnourished, dehydrated, and she’s fighting an infection. There’s also something else I can't quite place.”

“It’s poison.” Rhys spoke from behind Azriel, he and Feyre having entered the tent. “I can see how it plagues her mind.”

Azriel couldn't help the twang of jealousy he felt at his brother’s deamati abilities. To be able see into your mind and ease your pain, to help you sleep – these were things he would sell his soul to provide for you.

“I can feel it too, through the bond,” Azriel added gruffly. “And smell it in her scent.”

Madja nodded. “We’ll need to find the exact source for the right antidote.”

“We’ll arrange for Cassian to search the prison,” Feyre said calmly, her eyes distant as she reached the General through his mind.

Madja ushered Azriel towards the cot, directing him to place you down. It took a quiet moment to fight his own instinct to ever let you go, but your mate set you down gently, bringing a soft hand to caress your cheek. Your skin was greyish, lacking sunlight, blood, life… Azriel hoped the pain he felt at the sight of your disheveled state couldn't be sensed down the bond.

“What of her pain?” he asked helplessly, crouching at your side. Rhys’s hand rested on his shoulder, Azriel refusing to turn from you.

“I’ve blocked her pain and willed a dreamless sleep,” Rhys reassured him.

“Good,” said Madja. “Keep it that way. She needs to fight the infection.” Rhys nodded tightly and Azriel sighed, noting the beads of sweat that formed on your face. Reaching for a nearby cloth, he dotted the sweat away.

Madja shooed Azriel away from your cot, working to clean the visible cuts and aid the bruises that spotted your body. Rhys took the opportunity to pull his brother to the side – his shadows lingering back, soothing you while you slept.

“Az, you need to prepare yourself for when she wakes.”

Azriel frowned, folding his arms over his chest, blue siphons flaring. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Feyre looked between the two males before placing a gentle hand on Azriel’s forearm. “Y/N was not herself when Rhys and Cass found her,” she said softly, her eyes full of sympathy for the Shadowinger.

“What are you saying?” Azriel's jaw ticked, his usual stoic demeanour replaced with irritated impatience and concern.

“She didn't recognise who we were,” Rhys said. Azriel’s eyes darted between his High Lord and Lady, now panicked. Rhys spoke quickly. “It’s likely the poison had caused her delirium, but she was violent Az, completely feral if I may speak plainly.”

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I can feel her down the bond. She’s still there, she’ll remember.”

“Good,” Feyre said with a broken smile. “That’s good. Keep reaching out, keep her grounded.” She rubbed her hand up and down his arm now, attempting to soothe him.

Azriel nodded, looking past the couple as your limp state. Overwhelmed by relief, regret, and fear of the unknown, tears began to sting at the Shadowsinger’s eyes. Burying his face in one hand, he tried to hide the evidence of his emotions, but his friends were too perceptive.

‘It’ll be ok, Az,” Feyre soothed.

“She’s here now brother, try not to fret,” Rhys added.

Now that he had found you, Azriel finally allowed the shame he had been burying for all those months to surface. “She’s my mate,” he said quietly, his husky voice breaking as his tears flowed freely. “She’s my mate, and I let this happen to her.”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged a pained look, agreeing down their own bond that if it had been the other, they would likely blame themselves too.

Ever so thoughtfully, Feyre guided Azriel to a seat next to your cot. Azriel slumped into the chair, his face buried in his hands as he tried to control his emotions. His shadows found him again, building around his frame – hiding, concealing.

“Stay with her brother,” Rhys patted Azriel on the shoulder. “Help her find her way back.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, mumbling a thanks to his High Lord and Lady as they left you to sleep, and him to agonise in privacy.

————

You stumbled through never ending void of complete white. No sound could be heard, and the air was still. Your heart pounded as you looked around you – sensing danger was near, but you just couldn't see it.

This wasn't a dream, no, it was far too painful, but it wasn't reality either. It was a trance of types – one meant as a message or warning. One you would be sure to adhere.

You whirled, searching for any signs of life. Walking was becoming more difficult, your limbs heavy as if something plagued you, dragging you down.

Finally, you reached the edge. The edge of nothingness. Peering down, you could only see depth. One more step would send you careening into the white abyss, falling forever into nothingness, never to be found again. Your head ached as you tried to remember anything beyond this place. A world, a face, even a sound. The pain was blinding, even just to think.

It was then that you saw the shadows, the unmistakable peaks of wings blocking whatever light and warmth as they cast over you. Gasping, you spun, your stance instinctively defensive.

The male grinned down at you, his wicked smile lethal as his hazel eyes swirled. A long, serpent-like tongue glided over his teeth – no, fangs. You didn't know what he was – a devil, a demon, perhaps an angel of death. Every part of your screamed at you to take that jump of the edge, begging you to choose the infinite free fall than to be surely killed by this thing.

His figure grew then, elongating and towering over you as his eyes changed from honey gold to a vicious red. Shadows swarmed you, pinning you to the ground. It was too late to run.

“Leave me alone!” you managed to scream, fighting against the shadows. It was hard to hear your voice over the roar of panic in your ears. Little light remained as darkness filled your vision, the creature lowering his gaze, preparing to attack. Hands turned to talons before a snarl ripped from him, his bright eyes fixed on your throat.

The snarl grew to a roar as he launched, a piercing sound escaping you as you screamed for your life.

————

Azriel jumped as you jolted awake, flying upwards as you clung to your chest, gasping. With frantic eyes you scanned the room, clutching at your filthy tunic and running a shaky hand through your hair. Azriel’s heart broke at your panic, before quickly pounding in anticipation. This was the moment he had ached, dreamt and killed for – the moment he got his mate back.

“Y/N?” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper. Frantic eyes found him then, widening, then darkening as they fixed on his face.

He slowly raised a hand to his chest, the other extending to your cot. “Y/N, my love, I’m so sorry.” Azriel’s eyes swelled with despair, his guilt consuming as he reached for you. You remained unmoving, your gaze shifting to where his hand now rested, almost touching you.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” he said in attempt to reassure you. Your chest moved up and down with breathy pants, your eyes trailing his strong arm back to his face as you studied him.

There was a beat of silence between you, just the sound of your breathing filling the tent. Your expression was unreadable as you stared at him blankly.

“Y/N, it’s me, Azriel.”

Despite Rhys’s warning, Azriel was unprepared when you launched for him, knocking him to the floor.

Eyes wide, he clawed at your hands that were tightly wrapped around his neck, your own eyes dark as you slowly choked the air out of the Shadowsinger.

--------

Part 3 >>>

AN: 👀 I hope you liked Part 2!!! 💕

Comment if you’d like to join the series or general tag list, and thank you always for reading!

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Violence, drugs

Words: 1,866

--------

Part 4 ∇

Brightness shone through your eyelids, so much so that you had to squeeze them shut. Wherever you were, there was far too much light to be your cell.

You felt them then, the belts around your body, keeping you pressed down to the bed. They felt different to the usual chain kept around your ankle – softer, safer, a measurement of care.

Opening your eyes, you tried to blink away the blur. You were right, this room was different. It was neat and clean, clinical in a way. It smelt different here too, almost sterile.

Your body felt foreign to you, heavy yet light at the same time. Your head lolled to the side, despite your efforts to keep it up. You tried to move, to bring slow hands to your eyes and rub the fogginess away, but you were no match to the belts that restrained you.

“Hello Y/N.” A voice. A female’s voice, soft and warm and–

“I’m glad to see you awake.”

Blinking harder, your eyes tried to focus on the face now in front of you. You could smell her scent – sweet and inviting, her touch gentle on your arm. Yet her face remained a blur. Why were you so Gods damned slow?

“How are you feeling?” Another voice, another female.

Blurs became shapes as you were able to identify one with blonde hair, the other more brown. Through your haze, they seemed to float in front of you, their voices like a melody. Could they be angels?

You tried to answer, your voice catching in your throat as if your muscles were to slow to follow your brain’s instruction. It didn't bother you though, you were relaxed, content, and for the first time that you could remember, you felt safe.

“That’s alright Y/N, don't strain yourself.” The hand on your forearm caressed you then.

As your vision finally cleared, you realised this was not the first time you had woken to this room. Nor was it the first time you had met these females.

“Feyre?” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. You must have been asleep for a very long time. How was it you didn't remember being brought here?

“That’s right,” she smiled at you, her brow pulling in hope. “And do you know who this is?”

The blond shifted, placing her hand on your other arm, her smile just as warm and eager.

“Mor?” you coughed, your voice a little clearer now. The females exchanged a look of relief.

“I have to say Y/N, it’s wonderful to hear you say our names without losing you again,” Mor sighed.

“Losing me?” Despite your giddiness, there was a faint thud of dread.

Feyre took a deep breath before focusing her eyes on yours, her expression much more serious. “We’re going to tell you what we tell you every time you wake. Try your best to stay focused on our voices.”

Every time you wake? How many times had they done this?

“You were captured by Hybern’s army over six months ago. They tortured you, and used poison to hijack your mind.”

Hybern. Just the mention of his name fabricated his presence as he stalked the corners of your mind – prowling, waiting for the right opportunity. Pain began to throb from behind your eyes, and you fidgeted against your restraints.

“Just breath Y/N, we need you to stay calm.” Mor’s instruction was clear, but you couldn’t help the panic that was quickly building within you. Danger lurked close by, you could feel it coming.

“Hybern brainwashed you to turn you into an enemy of the Night Court.” A flash of white, and Hybern danced closer, as if the path to your mind was revealing the more they spoke.

“Stop!” you gasped, afraid of how close he would get. You couldn’t help your instinct to struggle against the leather belts, trying to get free.

“The opioids are wearing off,” Mor muttered to Feyre. You glanced between them in panic. Opioids? Were they drugging you?

Firm hands clasped your shoulders, her blue-grey eyes finding yours. “It’s alright Y/N, you’re safe. We’ve been working on reversing the hijacking for a number of weeks now. You’ve made a lot of progress already.”

Your breath was shaky now, adrenaline coursing through as you began to tremble. “Progress?” What the fuck was going on?

They’re lying. That cold voice returned, watching from the darkened crevices of your mind, luring you to join him. They’re lying, and they’re going to kill you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the voice out of your mind. “Leave me alone!” The words had escaped you before you could stop them.

“That’s it Y/N, fight back,” Mor coached. You gritted your teeth, sweat now beading at your brow. Your heart was a pounding drum in your ears, and the pain behind your eyes continued to build.

“He’s here!” you shrieked, warning the others.

“Only in your mind, my friend,” Feyre answered, her voice smooth and steady, a guiding light. “Hang in there, I’m going to ease your pain.”

You yelped as Feyre entered past your crumpled mental shields, her magic quick and light, your muscles relaxing as the pain eased to a more bearable level. Hybern had disappeared all together.

“We haven't got much time,” she said to Mor, flicking her eyes down to you as you tried to stay focused. Your vision began to reel.

Mor swallowed before turning her gaze to you, her hands pushing against your left shoulder as Feyre moved to do the same to your right. Whatever was about to happen, it would not be good.

“We need you to fight Y/N, fight for your home, for Velaris and the Night Court.”

Those words – Night Court. White flashed before your eyes, and you shouted as pain slashed through your mind.

“Fight for your family. For Rhys, Cassian, Nesta, Elain Mor, Feyre and Nyx.”

Each of their names was a silver knife that penetrated you, a deep wound every time. You screamed as your mind reeled, white flashing before your eyes over and over again.

Kill them! Hybern’s voice was so close in your ear you could feel his phantom breath. You jumped at the sudden proximity.

“Stop!” you howled – begging to all of them. You had enough. So many voices, so much magic and pain and drugs – all of them fighting for control and your mind was merely the battlefield. It was torture.

“You can do it Y/N, keep fighting!”

You were whimpering now, thrashing against the leather bounds as you felt claws clasping your brain, your very being a marvelled toy in the hands of Hybern as he waited to rip you to shreds.

They’re going to kill you if you don't do it first. His voice was a sing-song.

“Fight for your mate Y/N! Fight for Azriel!”

It was if someone had flipped a switch. That piercing white light filled your vision before Hybern morphed into the familiar winged demon before you. His eyes glowed, talons at the ready as he launched for you.

A scream ripped from you, your own teeth bared and eyes crazed. Anyone willing to summon this creature was not your family. They were your enemy.

“I’ll kill you!” you snarled, thrashing against the bounds.

“We’re not going to harm you Y/N.” Unable to know who had said it, you hissed at them both, continuing to thrash, digging your fingernails into your palms until they drew blood.

“Keep fighting Y/N. Your family loves you, and so does your mate!”

You ragged breaths paused for a split second. Azriel spoke then, his voice unchanged from Hybern’s, eyes glowing red and forked tongue lashing. You would let them trick you, Y/N? Prepare to die at the hands of your own weakness. Talons slashed at your mind.

Howling at the pain, you shook your head violently. “No, no no no!” Unaware of who you were threatening, another snarl ripped from you as you spat “I’ll kill all of you!”

You were still thrashing and yelling when Mor turned to Feyre. “It’s time Fey, let her rest.”

Feyre entered your mind for the second time that night. “Get out!!” you roared, feeling the intrusion.

“Sleep now,” she responded gently, pulling you from the warfare of your own mind and replacing it with calm, quiet rest.

————

It wasn't until your breathing found a steady rhythm that Mor and Feyre left the room. Rhys and Cassian were at the door, having heard the screaming. Their faces were grave, none of them greeting the other.

“Any progress?” Cassian was the first to speak.

“Small, but progress all the same,” Mor responded, her voice flat. It was hard not to lose hope when every session ended this way. The lines between helping you or hurting you further were becoming so blurred.

Are you alright darling? Rhys asked his mate through their bond. You look depleted.

I’m fine, Rhys. Just a little tired. It was a long session.

“She remembered our names,” Feyre added, speaking aloud now.

“Your names?” Rhys questioned, his arms folding across his chest.

“Feyre and Mor. And she said them without switching back.”

“That is progress,” Cassian whispered, as if afraid to jinx it.

“Anything else to note?” the High Lord asked.

Feyre and Mor both shook their heads. “Everything else was consistent, her triggers still a long list of our names, the Night Court…”

“And Azriel?”

“The worst one of them all,” Feyre said grimly. There was a beat of silence between the group. None of them wanted to be the one to tell the Shadowsinger.

“Where is he?” Mor asked.

“On the roof. I had to pull rank when she woke, he was going to enter the room when he heard her screaming.”

“He put up one hell of a fight,” Cassian added, stretching his arms. Bruises and scratch marks formed across them, a tell sign of how intense the fight had been.

Feyre shook her head, her expression sorry. She was empathetic to Azriel, she couldn't imagine the instinct he was fighting by keeping away. But if you were to see him in that state – it would trigger you far worse than mentioning his name ever could. It would unravel weeks of long, torturous sessions, and was far too risky.

“You did right to stop him,” she said, offering her mate and Cassian a broken smile. “We’ll continue with our approach. Opioids to counteract the episodes from the poison, magic to ease her pain, and weaning her off occasionally to measure her progress.”

“Who’s going to give him the update this time?” Cassian asked. This was the most dreaded part amongst the group.

Rhys sighed then, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’ll go. I should check in on him regardless, I imagine he’s quite upset with me.”

Mor and Cassian nodded, while Feyre reached her mate, placing a reassuring kiss on his cheek.

“Nyx?” she asked softly.

“With Elain,” he replied, kissing her forehead.

The group dispersed then, Rhys making his way to the roof to speak with his Spymaster.

--------

Part 5 >>>

AN: Sorry this took me a while to get out! Hope you enjoyed 💕

Would love any feedback, and comment to join the tag list for either the series or all ACOTAR 💕

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel angst #acotar angst #Azriel series #azriel mate #inner circle #feyre angst #azriel x injured reader #acotar series #rhysand #azriel brainwashed #acotar brainwashed #azriel x brainwashed reader #azriel amnesia #acotar amnesia #sarah j maas #azriel acotar #azriel x kidnapped reader

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