The Last Queen (An ACOTAR / Azriel fanfiction)

The Bond

Azriel trained all day outside the house in hopes that it would make him too tired to be angry at Daggerheart. His muscles aches and his head spun by the time the sky was dark but he still felt that blind rage eating away at him.

In the end, he threw his sword against a wall and knocked a flower pot off. It shattered on the ground and footsteps sounded behind him.

"Oh, no!" The boy came running. "It broke." He kneeled down and started picking up the broken pieces.

Azriel sighed and knelt beside him. "It was my fault. I wasn't thinking." He apologised.

The boy searched his face for something and then said, "I heard you yell at Daggerheart. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, you were just very loud." He smiled sheepishly. Azriel glanced at him sideways. Daggerheart had told him his name - Isra.

"We had an argument." He shrugged.
"I am young. Not stupid." The boy frowned. "I heard you. It was about the war."

Azriel said, "Yes."

"I have worked here with my mother since I could walk. I used to see Daggerheart everyday when my mother cooked for all of us." Azriel remembered the food they had eaten at the night of the storm, it had already been made. Daggerheart had only heated it. Isra continued, "She disappeared during the war. We didn't see her until a month had passed after all of that."

"She was planning attacks and preparing armies." Azriel said.

"Maybe." Isra shrugged. "I just know she would never do anything that put any of us in danger. You should trust her." He scooped all of the broken pieces and left.

"I want to." Azriel mumbled.

He watched Daggerheart move around the kitchen as she cooked.

"Nobody is cooking for you today?" He voiced.

"No." She sighed. "Afraid I'll have to cook all by myself. Isra's mother went home early." She looked over her shoulder. "You're going to enjoy the food made by the mortal queen. Many don't get the chance."

"You're not mortal and I'm not eating any food that you cook." He told her.

"You ate it once." She pointed out.

"You didn't cook it. You heated it up." He corrected.

She shrugged, "Well, why not? What's the problem?"

He took a deep breath, "I don't want to."

"That's very rude, spymaster." She chuckled.

"I don't think I care about that."

She turned around and leaned against the counter top, "I can make you eat, you know?"

"No, you can not." He snapped.

"You, spymaster, are my prisoner. I will make you do whatever I want you to do." She pointed a knife towards him.

He stepped forward, "Can you?"

"Can I?" She raised her eyebrows. "Apparently, I can." Her eye flickered over his bedroom door.

His hands curled into a fist. He opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to that, "Sit. You will eat."

"No." He crossed his arms across his chest.

"Azriel." She said threateningly, "I said, sit."

"And I said, I won't. I'd rather starve."

"What is wrong with you?" She yelled.

"You. You are what's wrong with me. You ruined everything." He yelled back.