Her death was anticlimactic for such a dramatic girl.
It wasn't shrieks of pain and blood-stained smile and knives blocking swords and trumpets blaring. It wasn't betrayed, wide eyes and scared gasps and a sword and false kisses.
It was fluttering eyelashes and a dark shadow clutching a rock and an anguished cry for someone who wasn't quite a lover but not quite an enemy. It was clutching hands and begging for life and one desperate kiss.
It was a boy breaking and a girl dying and two pawns discovering that they can't win the game.
It's futile.