When the party arrived at the center of the maze they were greeted by the most horrible sight they had ever seen.

“My god, man! What are you doing?” Kendall was also shaken, surprisingly.

“He’s tap dancing.” Laer said, “Trust me, it’s not as bad as his singing.”

“Why?”

“Because it helps relieve stress!” Erle declared proudly, “Besides it’s the only thing that I can do that requires a significant amount of talent.”

“Your dancing skills mean nothing!” Kendall cried, “I challenge you to a duel!”

“You don’t really fence foil.” The Kid cried, “You have a sabre. Isn’t it more of a swordfight then?”

“No matter!” Erle cried, as he hopped of the rock underneath him. “I see that my advisor Laer has betrayed me, I am obviously cornered.” The group nodded. “But I will kill all of you! And then I’ll just beat down the uprising and win!”

“That is perhaps the smartest plan he has ever come up with.” Laer murmured.

“When you get closer to the end, you have to come up with something plausible to make sure both sides seem to have a fighting chance.”

“Ah.”

Both men walked a few steps towards each other. They drew their blades.

“So you’ve come to reclaim the throne as the chosen king?” Erle asked, “Even with your magical shiny sword I will win.”

Any remark Erle made was now ignored. Kendall advanced only to parry Erle’s lunge and the swords clashed with such fury that sparks may have flown. Somehow, Erle was very adept at swordplay, and was pressing an advantage, but in minutes the tide had turned. The supporting characters watched as protagonist and antagonist lifted their large sabres and charged at each other with murderous intent. Kendall had to rely on his speed and wit, for strength was not the only weapon he had on his side. He was gaining more ground against the Erle, but then suddenly, the Erle found an opening and struck. Kendall parried too late. Vetrice gasped as Kendall’s tunic turned a dark red.

“His shoulder’s bleeding!” The Kid cried.

“Oh my love!”

“Should we…help him?” Laer asked, stepping forward, only to be held back by Kendall’s raised hand.

“Stay back, I am not so injured that I need assistance to destroy this man.” Kendall readied his blade again and waited for the next assault.

“Twelve chapters and now he starts talking.” The Kid muttered mutinously.

The battle was as fierce as it was long. Kendall quickly lunged at the Erle, only to be parried again. He quickly sidestepped the next blow and extended his blade, to disengage when the opportunity arose.

“Wait. Isn’t this a duel with sabres? Why are we using terminology from fencing with foils?”

“Obviously because the author has never fenced sabre in her life. Besides, it’s not like it’s as artful. Unplanned flailing about is a lot harder to make poetic.”

Regardless of the crosstalk between the viewers of the battle, the duel raged on. And on. And on. And on.

“Oh my god!” Vetrice rolled her eyes, whipped out a gun and fired. Erle fell to the ground, dead as a doornail. Not that doornails were ever alive in the first place.

“We’re not supposed to have guns,” the Kid cried, furiously, “And what in the world are you doing?”

“Isn’t killing the villain, the hero’s job?” Kendall asked, turning. He was just about to make his finishing blow and give a grand speech while Erle lay dying.

“Well, you were taking way too long.” Vetrice ground out. Kendall narrowed his eyes. The Heroine seemed to be regressing. No wait…there was a glimmer of hope and love in her eyes. “Oh, Kendall, you were so brave, fighting the bad man, you saved my life!”

“Actually, didn’t you save him?” the Kid asked. This was all very confusing. Laer hushed him.

“Can’t you understand? The real Vetrice…or rather, the sane one, is trying to fight off the parasitic role of heroine.”

“She’s not a schizophrenic, then? Or extremely bipolar?”
“No, she’s fighting herself…or rather, the creator-who-does-have-a-name-but-can’t-quite-remember-it-right-now.”
“ So what do we do?”

“Nothing.” Laer came to the conclusion in an instant. “Who knows what’ll happen now, to the only character that fought against her archetype. This is a sad day indeed.”

“Sad?”

“Well, obviously, she’s going to lose.”

“Vetrice is very single minded.” Somewhere through the story, the Kid had realized Vetrice was a rather dependable sort of person, one that wasn’t quite as odd as Kendall, anyway.

“We’ll see.”

Kendall and Vetrice stared at each other as Vetrice dueled in her head.

“Thank you for saving me Kendall! You’re so brave!” Vetrice was fighting the words, really she was, “You have helped save millions of lives!”

“I did it for the good of all people.”

“I—I love you, Kendall!” Vetrice stage whispered.

“I love you too, Vetrice!” Kendall exclaimed. “Let’s get married!”

“Married!” Vetrice squealed, she’d always wanted to get married! Wait…no she had not. Kendall kneeled and somehow produced a rather shiny diamond ring that was surprisingly not covered with blood.

“This belonged to the previous queen in my family, and if you will marry me, you will also bear the queen’s ring. Will you marry me?” There was a slight gasp in the audience as both Laer and the Kid clapped for Kendall and his shiny belongings.

“Wait just a minute. Why do I have to marry you? No way!” Vetrice, the real Vetrice, yelled. She fired her gun again, this time at our dear protagonist himself. The Kid and Laer stopped clapping.

“Wait! You can’t just kill him! Can you?” The Kid asked. Laer shrugged. Vetrice was struggling against herself, and soon abandoned all hope of winning.

“Oh, my gosh, what have I done?” Heroine-Vetrice sobbed, and then pulled out one of her daggers, which she plunged into her heart.

The Kid looked down at the three casualties of justice. Laer mopped his brow, and then came to a realization.

“You’re the only sane one here! Who’s still alive! I don’t care if you are a man, let’s get married!”

“I’m not a man!” The Kid(-ess?) cried, pulling of her wig to reveal long red locks, “My name is Sue!” Laer nodded. That seemed logical.

“What say we ride off into the sunset together?”

“Of course! But first—“ with all the daintiness of a secret heir to a kingdom, the Ki—Sue picked up the gun from the floor and pointed it upwards.

And as the author typed out this last sentence she narrowly missed a bullet, and swore she would never write again.

AN: Actually, that’s a lie. You’ll hear from me again…maybe.

Well it’s over. What do you think? Good ending?

…Oh and I do fence. Foil. Not sabre. How do you fence saber anyway? It must be soooo difficult. Heavy big swords, muffins.