The Last Queen (An ACOTAR / Azriel fanfiction)

Her Target

"Stop sulking!" Daggerheart threw a berry at Azriel and he glared at her when it collided with his cheek.

She smiled cheekily and glided forward smoothly, her golden wings cutting through the air.

Where did she get those from? And how do they disappear? These were among the many mysteries his mate held and as he watched her soar steadily, he called after her.

She slowed down and flew by his side, her hair whipping back and forth in the wind. "What?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Why did you ask to take me as a prisoner? You could have asked Rhys to kill me, to whip me until the last breath left my body. You didn't do that. I have something you want." He looked steadily into her eyes.

She smiled, "My dearest prisoner, you are just as clever as I wanted you to be. Why would I kill you? Or make you suffer?" Amusement danced across her features. "Do you know what is the biggest treasure of any realm?"

"The spies." He said without hesitation. "The leaders and commanders are blind without them. We warm them of dangers, sometimes we even delay them. We tell them about the best warriors among the enemies. We tell them about traitors and chop them down before they can raise their heads."

"Correct." She nodded.

"But you are a spy. You have spies and I'm sure they were trained personally by you. I have seen you send bodies after bodies of my spies. You do not need me." He tried to pry the secret out of her. He could fell his frustration rise with every passing second. Every time Daggerheart smiled, every word she spoke - he knew she unravelled another secret, another trick before him, only he was too slow to catch up. Knowing things was what he did. This was what he had always done, for 500 years and he would not have it undone by a single person who barged into his life with the bodies of his spies as the ladder.

"It's simple enough." She shrugged. "I was a spy before. I was a lot of things, to tell you the truth- A courtier, a spy, a warrior. What I wasn't, was a queen." She travelled effortlessly by his side. "I understand the people and I understand the politics."

"I can see that." Azriel commented.

She smiled again, "It's....sometimes not so easy. I never thought I would live the life of a queen. I need someone to instruct my spies. Watch over them. You presented yourself on a silver platter before me and I could not resist the opportunity."

He was caught off-guard by her admitting a weakness so much that he thought about her talent to turn any tide in her favour only later on.

"I think you are a very efficient ruler. The people love you."

"They do." She sighed. "I do not want to let them down." Like that little girl, he could hear her unspoken words. "But everyone has their limits, spymaster. I do not have a court by my side."

He finally realised the scope of this situation unravelling before him. He had been so busy hating her and then trying to get rid of her, he hadn't noticed that she was all alone. All the burden Of the entire Mortal Realm on those straight shoulders. Every High Lord had a Court which included people of great influence. He was sure the Queens before her had a court but it was gone with them. For those Queens, she was the court - their spy, their messenger, their courtier, their council. But now she was a queen as well.

He could not imagine a single court on the entire Prythian standing without the entire array of figureheads that prowled the halls of their estates and sat on their gilded thrones. They had all witnessed the downfall of The Spring Court after the High Lord had nobody by his side. But this woman had carried the entire Mortal realm for couldron knows how many years and it still stood. It survived wars and rebuilt itself, all under a single woman.

They flew silently for a long time and Azriel only spoke when they were past cities and flying over hills. He recognised the flowers he had seen outside Daggerheart's window and knew they would soon reach her house.

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"You are my prisoner." Daggerheart gave him an amused look but chuckled, "Ask. Actually, we are going for my favourite sport in the evening, ask two if you like."

"How do you know I will not kill your spies? Or destroy your well established systems? Brainwash your subjects and flee?"

" I don't." She did a sweet little turn in the air so her hand touched the tall grass when she extended it. "And I wish I could say I trust you to be a honourable man but I know the nature of spies. What are we if not deceivers?" His curiosity peaked.

"Then?" He prodded.

"I have walked this earth longer than you have and I have seen more of man than you have. I do not claim to know how honourable you are, but I know a wise man when I see one." Her wings brushed against his and a shiver raked his body. "You know I am a better spy and you have seen me kill people. Look after my spies and I will watch you, my sweet little prisoner." Her smile was the same as when she had pressed her blade against his throat. He knew he would see more of that smile in the coming days.

He looked away and at the house slowly coming in the view. It was the same as he had seen it last time. Nothing what he expected a queen to live in. Then again, Daggerheart wasn't wearing the crown for all those years. Then, he said to himself, "What a foolish thing to say. Of course she wasn't wearing one. Women like her never do. She was a queen thorough and thorough. In fact, she still doesn't wear one. Why should she? No jewellery ever made anyone a Queen." If it did, he was sure the previous queens had plenty of them but he could not imagine seeing their quicksilver eyes move the same way Daggerheart's eyes did, the lightning they carried, they way they held each drop of the lethe grace and easiness but surety. He could not imagine their hands move the way hers did, like they could cut through men and mountains.

Those Queens were like polished knives - sneaky, deceptive, easy to mistake as something domestic.
Daggerheart was like a whip - loud and bold and crackling like thunder.

You could use a knife in the kitchen, make it harmless, a whip stayed the same. Nothing could change it's nature.

By now, they were almost to her house. He saw a young boy pacing outside. He threw him arms up in the air and Daggerheart waved at him. "The son of the woman who tends to my garden." She explained. "Isra."

Azriel nodded.

As soon as their feet touched the ground, Daggerheart ushered him inside. He knew the room he was supposed to go to and didn't linger. On his way here, something inside of him had hollowed out. A part of him that had been heavy as lead, had been lost somewhere and now he felt like he was floating without that weight pressing him down.

"Perhaps I needed that weight." He thought and tried to think about how this journey was Daggerheart's fault and that she should have sent for nobles to join her court and gotten him a lashing instead. But as he stood in her kitchen, the sunlight was clearer than it had ever been and the air was lighter. When he saw her handleless cups, he thought about the warmest drink and her single sage green plate that she kept only for herself, he smelled the cake they had baked together. Their silent dinner came back to him. Her simple gray nightgown and the thick book were pressed vividly in his memory. He could not believe it had happened only a day ago.

Daggerheart came in smiling, "Rest, spymaster. We go hunting as soon as the sun sets."

He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew exactly what she was talking about. Her prey and her target - the man who had dared to lay his hand on her.

He did not rest.