Title: "Promise"
Character: Larxene
Because she, a Princess, and a Shadow have more in common than they might like to think.
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"I hate you," she says.
And she is the very opposite of the delicate princess that the hero remembers on the island, a perfect and artful arrangement of gold foil, lightning and knives.
"I hate you."
Because these worlds do not work by halves, she hates him every bit as much as the princess had loved him, with all her heart with all her soul essence. Her weapons are clutched in white-knuckled hands, her body fading fast. She grips the hilts hard, the thin ornamental edges biting into her palms. I won't lose to a bunch of losers!
She refuses to lose to him. "Must you insist on playing the hero?" she demands.
He has always played the hero. Always. She can't stand it. She can't stand him, and she refuses to play the fool. "There is no promise," she shouts furiously. White teeth ground in a sneer. "There never was!"
Unfeeling and cold.
Mocks everyone and trusts no one.
"You are delusional!"
The boy faces her, eyes hard; she can see she's throwing words at a concrete wall. Bites back a shrill, sarcastic laugh.
You are
delusional.
On her knees.
She stares at the cold marble floor, at the flower's fading reflection in the frosty white; a flower with thorns. Her rage runs bitter though her veins. She trusts no one to keep promises that don't exist, or are so easily forgotten, swiftly discarded.
No one.
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Among the cascades of white marble, tiles, columns---the shadow star-girl carefully draws out the memories of the hero, laying them side by side. She examines the delicate links.
"Remember what you said before?" The hero asks, holding his princess's hand. "I'm always with you, too. I'll come back to you. I promise!"
"I know you will!"
Larxene watches with bitter scorn as Namine studies the images sadly.
Lies.