Disclaimer: The characters are sort of mine but more not – they're shadows of current/past Tortallan characters. It mimics Alanna's Ordeal. Parts of it are taken from In the Hand of the Goddess, and other parts from Lioness Rampant, both by Tamora Pierce.
--
Nadia pushed her sweaty hair out of her face. She could hear her ragged breathing, but it was almost as if it belonged to somebody else. One thought dismissed all others – she had to find William, now! Before - no, it was best not to give the gods ideas. They already had enough fun with her life, and the life of her beloved. Frantically, she carried on her search, checking each room on the way.
Empty. Empty. Empty. Always empty.
Finally, she reached the last one.
A sheet of magic kept her from the contents of the room; Nadia dealt with that by dragging her axe, her favourite weapon, through the magic. Her own purple fire protected her as she fell through the remaining orange Gift.
William lay on a hard, stone bed, almost – almost like a tomb. Nadia shuddered at the thought and ran over to him.
His smile was tight, and full of pain. "You came."
"Of course I came. Your brother couldn't keep me from you." She hugged him to her. Maybe if she held him tightly enough, he wouldn't die. Maybe she could squeeze life back into his body. Maybe love would be enough. But already she could feel that he was becoming cold and stiff as death sunk its claws in.
She closed her eyes. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too," he said hoarsely.
"Well get him," she promised. "We will, and when we do, he'll pay." Tears dripped from her violet eyes; hastily, she brushed them away.
William opened bloodshot blue eyes.
"Nadia, watch out!" She turned swiftly, as footsteps echoed around the room.
"You." Her eyes were narrowed in loathing.
"Me." The other prince's voice was amused, making Nadia's hate for him swell. In his hands he carried two dolls, one a female redhead, the other a male with black hair.
Smiling, the Prince approached the bed. In a quick movement, he pushed a pin into the dark haired doll. William's hand turned limp in Nadia's. She turned back to her Prince, her love, who looked as if he was merely sleeping. Tears pricked her eyes as she folded his hands across his chest.
"You killed him."
"It was necessary. You'll get over it." The Prince - now the heir - pulled her to her feet. "Dance with me." She didnt resist, not caring if it made him happy, only caring that the man she loved was dead. He, in turn, knew that she didn't love him; hated, feared, but not loved. Never.
She was in his arms, and they danced, his face lit with love and with rage, his sapphire eyes insane.
"We'll dance until the end of everything, my darling, my pet," he crooned. "Promise me we'll dance forever." She shook her head, struggling wildly against his grip. She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut.
"What's wrong, my sweet?" He glanced back at the motionless body. "He never loved you. Not how I love you."
Afraid of what would happen if she spoke, afraid of death, she kept silent. He shook her violently.
"Say it! Say you love me!"
"You would have to kill me first," she spat. He slowed down, and the feverish dance of death stopped. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, like in a battle. Suddenly, all Nadia's fear vanished. William was dead; what was left for her? "I hate you. I'd rather die than have to touch you again."
He threw her aside, and she went flying across the room, crashing into a pillar. She curled up around her side, panting and, for some odd reason, smiling. She was going to be with William again soon. Not long now. His brother was going to crack. "I'll never be yours, no matter what."
Sadly, he pulled the other doll out, the female one. He threw it on the ground, and Nadia screamed with pain, but didn't reach for her axe. She gritted her teeth against the ache in her side, suddenly wary. He was going to kill her. In some corner of her mind, she had thought that he wouldn't be able to; he wouldn't be able to kill the woman he loved, even if she had loved another in return.
It would be up to somebody else to stop him, to see through him. To continue the legacy of female knights.
"Your last thoughts will be here." He trod on the doll. Nadia gasped for breath, but made no other protest, resigning herself.
Finally, he picked the doll up, hugged it tenderly, then pointed at it with a long finger. Orange fire shot out of it, sending the doll up in flames. Nadia cried out as invisible flames licked her body. She could just make out a blurry figure walking over to her beloved. He was smiling. William was whiter than marble. Laughing with noise her ears could no longer make out, he took William's crown and placed it on his own dark head.
As the magical fire devoured her, the last female warrior alive in Tortall vowed revenge. One day, she and the Prince would beat him. And one day, they would win.