The Final one-shot to these One-shots. I enjoyed making these, there pretty well and I plan to make another series of one-shots soon. Except those will be less tragic.

Alone

Lissa's P.O.V

Never have I ever been alone. Since the moment I took my first breath coming from my mother's womb, I've always had people surrounding me. Loving people and horrid people. I've never paid much attention to the latter.

I've had my loving mother, who always wanted a daughter and she dressed me up like her own living doll. Cared for me, treated my like a princess, like her daughter. I had my caring yet strict father. I was daddy's little girl, puppy dog eyes could get my out of anything. Even at age three I knew I had my father wrapped around my finger.

I had my bother – who picked with me and loved playing the 'I'm not touching you' game. He was always there for me.

Then I turned five, and my parents took me to St. Vladimirs and I went to Miss. Grains kindergarten class. As a moroi royal I spent most of my life at court or at my family's estate in Montana. Most of the dhampir and non-royals here came here when they were four. I didn't even want to be there when I was five! I couldn't fathom going there a year earlier.

That was still I saw, from across the room a spunk smart talking five year old. She was dhampir and she was talking to some little red head kid with freckles. He was also dhampir and he was flirting with her, I didn't know what it meant at the time since I was only a child but I thought that he was gross – why would he want to get close to a girl? Why would she let him? Boys are gross!

Miss Grain told us to take our seats and I end up sitting next to the dhampir girl. She didn't say anything to me, only giving me one look before flicking another spit ball at the red head. Miss Grain didn't pay much attention she was telling the class about our writing assignment. Now I know how to spell my name, but then all I knew was that it sounded like a snake. The nickname anyways.

I learned that the girl next to me was named Rosemarie. My mother's friend daughter's hamster was named Rosemarie. So I kind of thought her name was funny. Since I didn't want to hurt her feelings I didn't laugh, plus my name was odd to.

"I can't believe we have to do this." Rosemarie said looking at the fat pencils and blank white paper Miss Grain gave us.

"How to spell Vasilisa?" Rosemarie asked.

"I don't know, but I believe it has an 'S' in it." I answered. "How to spell Rosemarie?"

"It had an 'R' in it." She said." This is cruel! How are we supposed to know this stuff? What are we going to do with our names anyways – if people want to know our names we can just say it not spell it!" Rosemarie said and crossed her arms and huffed. I repeated the action.

"I don't wanna take this bull," Rosemarie said after several minutes of silent grunting she took the book off of the red head's desk, stood up and I threw it at Miss Grain who was walking around the classroom checking other student's work.

"Fascist Bastard!" She yelled at the top of her lungs. I looked over at Miss Grain who was rubbing a red spot that was forming on her forehead. I couldn't help it – I started laughing my heart out, tears coming out.

That was the day I found out I could add another person to my list of people who surround me. People who won't ever leave me alone.

Years passed and passed. Me and Rose turned into great friends. Best friends actually but then everything changed.

My parents and brother died – I was almost killed. I didn't know it at the time but Rose was to. The new and confusing feeling of being alone came to me. But I wasn't alone – I had Rose.

Then I knew I'll always have Rose.

Christian also came along – showed me a new type of love. One Rose couldn't and I prefer wouldn't give me. Another person to never leave me alone.

Then more years passed and Rose's boyfriend Dimitri and I became great friends. After bringing him back from being undead we kind of had a bond – not psychically but like a brother. Like Andre except Dimitri had no double life, not that I know of. He was my 'guy friend' it was fun having a guy's opinion on things when I wanted to surprise Christian.

Then more years passed. I was now 24 years old, Queen of the Moroi. Wife of Christian and my life was going great. Till the attack.

Some humans – feeders were working on the inside helping Strigoi out – whether it was because of compulsion or their desire to be immortal themselves I'm not so sure but they worked together.

The court was layered with several rings of wards. I heard it took around seven months and had to be done around the clock to weaken them – especially since people checked them every week or so. But they got in and it was a massacre. Guardians and moroi alike tried to kill them, to protect us.

We only lost a few numbers – yet even if we only lost one, that'll be too high.

Then the feeling came back – creeping up on me again.

The feeling of being alone…

I looked behind me, expecting to see Rose there and give me a sad smile and say something that'll make me feel better. But when I turn around all I see is fog from the grave yard. No one is here. I hold back the tears as I look back at the graves.

The headstones were beautiful, carved to perfection. Yet they were ugly, disgusting and vile. They were reminders that taunted me saying you're friends, your dreams lie here.

I take a dark red rose from the banquet and place a single one of the dirt.

Here lies Dimitri Belikov

A tear escapes my eyes as I wipe it away before moving on to the next one.

Here lies Christian Ozera

I put a single rose on the dirt an kiss the headstone; I wipe the tears away before moving onto the next tone.

Here lies Rosemarie Hathaway.

I put a rose on the dirt and keep my hand there. I don't want to move it. I never want to move it away, then this will all be too real. To sudden.

I put my fingers in the soft dirt, it was cold and damp since it rained earlier. I take all but one finger out and start tracing in the dirt.

'Rosemarie' I wrote since I never did it when I was five I minus well do it now.

"You were right Rose, it does have an 'R'." I said to the headstone. The tears flow freely as I get up. My dress now has dirt on it yet I don't wipe it away – I could never wipe them away.

I step back and look at the three roses on the ground.

Soon the roses will wither and blow away in the wind.

Just like me – they'll be alone.