This is a really sad story. There is suicide involved, so if you don't like that kind of thing, then it's best you leave. If you continue, don't say I didn't warn you.

How could I have done that? How could I have betrayed them? I'd always prided myself on being a good friend and never giving in! But, Oh!, the things he tempted me with!

I wept and begged him to stop it! But he didn't, he just continued tormenting me with my own mind and human greediness. And I gave in. I hate him. No; I don't hate him, he was doing as he was ordered. I hate myself. I wasn't able to control my tongue.

Perhaps, after I die, I will meet my friends again and beg their forgiveness. I just hope it's sooner rather than later.

I run my hand against the white silken sheets on my bed. They feel cool to the touch. The silk reminds me only more of what has passed; of what I now am. A traitor of friends and a queen to those I hate.

He promised jewels and gold. He promised me comfort and warmth for the rest of my days. He did not torture me, there was no need. I was more than willing. For I knew what it was like to be hungry and cold and he promised for me never to feel it again.

I fell at that. I told him everything. He smiled at me and thanked me warmly, I never knew he was kind. And kind he had continued to be. He gives me everything I want, except anything possibly dangerous. I have nothing that I can harm myself with. He loves me, even if I don't love him.

His palace is a prison for me. I grew up in windy, warm grasslands, not this cold, bleak tundra that he cares for so much. I would like nothing more than to break free of it.

I walk over to my window. There is no glass, just a pretty wooden shutter. I know not what magic keeps the room warm, but it's there and I admit that I am slightly thankful for it.

There's a knock on the door and a servant enters the room. As ordered, he stays as I eat, to make sure that I don't attempt to harm myself with the silverware. The meal is good. A tender slice of fresh pheasant marinated with the cooks special recipe sprinkled with rosemary. The rice soup that accompanies it is rich and thick.

After I finish he collects the tray, I smile and thank him. I may bear no kindness for this vile land, but that is no reason to act cruel towards the people who help me. He looks at me with somber eyes, as though he knows my sorrow.

I stare at the door for many long moments after he's left wondering what sort of man he is, if he has a family or if he is alone in the world.

A wink of light catches my eye and I turn to my bed. There, where he sat, is a sharp knife. I spring from my seat and grab it as though I'm afraid that if I don't, it will disappear.

I study the edge of the blade and run my thumb gently along it. It slices straight through the soft skin. I smile bitterly as blood wells from the small wound. Soon I will once again be with my friends and family, and I will finally be rid of this war-ravaged, Spirit-forsaken, cruel world.

Slowly, I bring the knife to my wrist and gently slice it. This time, the blood doesn't come in little drops, it comes fast and runs down my hand to drip off my fingers. I exchange the knife to the other hand and do the same to my left wrist.

I begin to feel faint and for a moment I wonder if I did the right thing, but then everything's quiet and calm. The room starts to blur and I realize for the first time that I'm dying. With the last of my energy, I lay down and bring my arms up to cross them against my chest. Then, I know no more.

I can't believe it happened! I run to her room and dismiss the servants that are gathered around their mistress's body. I slam the door and walk to her side. Her arms are crossed, just like the queen she is. I, the king, married her out of love and selfish greed, and now she lays in front of me dead.

The blood lays on her chest, staining the light blue dress she wears. I kneel beside her and place my hand on her cheek. It's cold. Her light crystal blue eyes stare up at me in death. Taunting me. Blaming me for her fall.

I feel the tears brim and overflow. I lean over her and watch as one of my tears drops on to her perfect face. The face that once was lively, is now pale against her ebony hair. I lower my head and place one last sweet kiss on her frozen lips.

I close her eyes, giving her at last peaceful passage into the next world, before picking up the knife at her side and driving into my own heart. May I rot forever in the darkness of Hell, for loving her and killing her.

There you go. Please review and tell me what you think. I must admit, when I read after I'd written it, I nearly cried.

PureElement