A/N: This one is...kinda weird. Should probably be considered AU, too. I was thinking Spyro the whole way through writing this, but it was only after finishing that I thought it could easily pertain to Malefor, too. Make of it what you will. This is what happens when I get weird ideas in my head.

Prince

His first victory had left him confident; the next ten had made him cocky. He had felt invincible as he stepped into the arena for the last time, confident despite the knowledge of who his opponent would be. That invincibility had lasted only seconds. Now, he was fighting for his life.

A deadly jolt of voltage swept over the sand like a shark through water, bearing down upon its prey. The fox dived at the last second, landing sprawled on the gritty floor of the arena, inches from death. He breathed in short, frantic bursts, his chest constricted with terror. The tunic he'd been wearing under his chainmail was all but ripped to shreds, the mail itself long gone, exposing the slick orange fur beneath.

Clutching at the scorch mark that had been burned into his chest fur only moments previously, the fox scrambled desperately backwards, avoiding a pair of deadly claws by only inches. In fear, he found himself gazing up into the cold, violet eyes of his opponent.

With a squeak of fear, the formerly confident fox scrambled to his feet and fled. But he didn't get far before he was knocked back down by a large bullet of stone to the back. Gasping, and wondering if one of his shoulder blades had been cracked, the fox rolled over onto his side and tried to see through the haze of pain.

Heavy paws thudded into the sand beside his head and he saw a flash of purple before pain lanced through his body. He screamed in agony, voltage ripping through his veins, tearing him apart from the inside out. A solid blow to the chest sent him flying, and he landed wincing metres away, hardly conscious.

Vaguely he could hear the sound of the crowd howling for blood, and the icy claw of fear clenched his gut. Heavy, deliberate footfalls alerted him to the presence of his opponent, stalking ever closer. Blinking grit and tears from his eyes, the fox tried to push himself back up.

He found himself staring into the merciless face of a dragon, and knew in that moment that he was a fool to ever think of defeating this opponent. No one defeated him, not even the best gladiators of the arena. After all, he was the best of them all.

"Please," the fox croaked, his throat cracked and dry. But he was met only by an icy cold stare from his merciless opponent.

No mercy. Mercy was unheard of in the arena.

The howls of the watching crowd grew to a crescendo. There was no doubt amongst anyone what was coming. They were not disappointed.

With a bitter sneer, the dragon thrust his deadly claws deep into the chest of his opponent. The fox twitched violently and coughed feebly. He tasted blood at the back of his throat, a metallic tang that did nothing to sooth the burning sensation. Disbelieving emerald eyes shifted from the cold gaze of the dragon to the claws buried deep in his flesh.

Scowling, the dragon ripped his claws from the chest of the fox, spraying blood across the sand. The crowd cheered as the fox crumpled slowly, blood gushing from the fatal wound. Coldness was spreading through his body, from his limbs to his failing heart. Gaping soundlessly, his roving eyes sought out those of his defeater.

The dragon stared coldly back at him, until the light faded from the fox's eyes. His blood soaked into the sand, to join that of many more victims before him. The crowd had gone eerily silent, until a loud voice boomed over the stadium.

"Another victory for our resident prince! Did we expect any less from the legendary purple dragon? I don't think so!"

Amidst the sounds of cheers and applause, the purple dragon turned and left the arena, a trail of bloodstained paw prints in his wake.