Here it is! The ending chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I love you all! And those that didn't review, boo on you but I hope you liked it anyway! Now enjoy and read my other works too! Ja!
Josephine continued to back away, realization filling her face. "Priscilla?"
"No, Priscilla is dead. My name is Prince."
The rapier sang from its scabbard. Josephine fumbled back towards the bed, adapting the tone of a frightened old friend.
"Priscilla, please, you wouldn't hurt me, would you? I-I took care of you when you were young…" Her eyes were widening. The clarity of the iris overwhelmed the rest of the eye, making it seem as though she had no pupil. "You wouldn't kill an unarmed person, would you? It would be cruel…"
"I will show you the same courtesy you've shown everyone else." Priss allowed some of her frustration to be released as she struck Josephine's shoulder, drawing no blood but tearing the gown.
Josephine's eyes locked on her late husband's blade, resting across the coat of arms. It was a very far away, and Priscilla was in between. All was not lost for the queen as Josephine's left hand slid along her girdle, seeking the small stiletto that had been hiding there for the last few weeks. Priss' eyes remained fixed, watching Josephine's every move.
The woman suddenly lunged, throwing a ring-covered fist into Priss' face. The cold-eyed warrioress smirked as her opened hand flew to meet it and pushed it harmlessly out of the way. She did not see the flash of silver until it was almost too late. Just in time Priss darted out of Josephine's reach and took three quick steps away, eyes not leaving the thin metal.
Josephine advanced on her, swinging madly, but Priss was faster. She moved this way and that, always just out of reach. Suddenly Josephine stuck her foot out as Priss went to side step her. Priss tripped over the ornate shoes and went crashing to the ground. Josephine smiled down at her as she drove the tooth of steel downward into the flesh of her target's shoulder—missing the fatal spot by a long shot. Priss gritted her teeth in pain, refusing to cry out. Warm blood splashed into her eyes; she quickly wiped it away and noticed Josephine ambling as fast as her large stomach would allow her to in the direction of the broad sword on the wall.
Priss' good hand sought the minute handle of the stiletto and with a tug and a yelp of pain, jerked it free. Blood ran from the wound like an insane man from prison. It soaked her fingers, loosening her grip on the sword. "Damn you!" she snarled.
Josephine rounded on her then, brandishing the blade with satisfaction. Priss rose shakily to her feet, still clutching the stiletto in one hand.
"Do you know how to use that thing?"
"Is it necessary?" Josephine replied as she stepped into a thrust.
Priss lined up her target, aimed quickly and fired the stiletto at Josephine, sending the metal through the queen's hand. Josephine howled and dropped the sword, giving Priss precious seconds to draw her rapier. She swung at Josephine but the woman was able to move away. She flung the stiletto on the table and lunged from the sword once more.
Josephine stood and aimed straight for Priss' neck. Priss sidestepped and blocked, but the impact jarred her wounded shoulder and sent streaks of pain ripping through her torso. Josephine swung wildly and Priss ducked as the blade sang overhead. Bent double, Priss fired her blade at Josephine's belly but the queen turned the great broadsword in midair and it came crashing down, pushing the attack away. She kicked Priss squarely in the chest, sending her sprawling on her back. The huge sword flew into the air and came hurling down to earth. At the last second Priss blocked, though it tore her insides with pain. Josephine lifted and dropped again and again, each time weakening Priss' grip. Finally, instead of dropping the blade straight down, Josephine let it fly at an angle. It caught the hilt of the rapier and sent the sword sailing across the chamber.
Priss almost smiled. She had hoped this would happen!
She swung both legs upward and locked them around Josephine's hands, maneuvering her body so that she did not come in contact with the blade. Then she twisted at the waist, forcing Josephine to drop her weapon. Priss leapt to her feet and raced for her rapier but stopped short as pain exploded from her lower back to her shoulder, even her knee. She had forgotten about the stiletto.
Priss took a staggering step forward and slumped against the wall. Her vision blurred as she lost all feeling in her lower body. She was a heavy stone, sinking into a pool of her own blood. She barely felt Josephine grab her collar and force her around. The queen's voice was distant, barely audible. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The sword glittering above her head didn't matter—it meant an escape from a world filled with pain.
Through the window she spotted a flash of golden blond. Emmy? The thought reverberated through her. Yes, Emmy mattered. The cold light returned to her eyes as Josephine pressed the point of her sword to Priss' throat.
"I'll see you in hell, Priscilla Katherine LaVoisier!"
The sword moved to strike but halted in midair, then fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Josephine took a confused step, eyes blinking. Her lips moved noiselessly and then she collapsed, transfixed by an arrow through her heart.
Priss lifted her eyes to the window and for a moment thought she had been saved by an angel, an angel dressed as a huntsman. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light, the midday sun reflecting off his long golden hair and full beard.
"God forgive me for what I've done," he blessed himself, "but you deserved it, wench!"
Priss groaned and moved her head to one side. Her whole body hurt. She slowly opened her eyes and took in her unfamiliar surroundings.
"Do not try to move to much, Sir, you are still quite ill."
Priss' eyes followed the gentle voice to the corner of a lavishly decorated room. It took her a moment to realize that she was in her own room, the one she'd left behind in England. With a start she remembered what had happened. "Henry!"
The young woman smiled. "Our king is safe. He is making sure all his affairs are in order once more. Please, do not worry so." She got up and tended to the fire in the hearth. "Are you hungry? Would you like something, Sir Priss?"
"That sounds oddly familiar," Priss murmured to herself. She took a closer look at the young girl. "Have we met before?"
The girl giggled. "No sir, but my aunt was quite fond of you. She took care of you long ago and had all good things to say of "Miss Emma's Prince." Now, would you care for some broth?"
It finally hit her. "Mary! You're related to Mary, that wonderful woman!"
The girl nodded. "I am. My name is Beatrice." She spooned warm broth into a bowl and sat down beside the bed. "Miss Emma has been sent for and will arrive soon. She has decided to bring her son to show him the land of her birth and to meet his uncle."
Priss nodded and sighed. "The last time I was in this room was the first time I truly talked to Emmy. How I love her so."
"And I love you so, my prince."
Priss turned towards the door and nearly cried as Emmy unwrapped her traveling cloak and placed it on the chair. She then rushed to the bed and gingerly hugged her love.
"My darling, if I had known, I…"
Priss silenced her. "I never would have told you. Why did you come? I wanted to come home to you."
This made Emmy smile. "Our son asked to see my home. I have also promised to show him the land he will someday rule."
Priss had forgotten her promise to her father. "Emmy…"
"I have corresponded with your father already. He is quite anxious to meet his heir," Emmy said quickly, seeing the look in Priss' eye. She took Priss' hand and kissed it. "Now, let's get you well so that my brother can do as he said."
Henry stood over Priss and touched his sword to her shoulder. "I knight thee, Sir Priss, gentlewoman of England, parent of the Prince of France, partner to the Princess of England."
Priss stood and bowed to her king. "I salute and follow you, my king."
Henry grinned at her. "There, no that it is out of the way, shall we eat?" He nodded towards his nephew who was eyeing the desserts, "I believe we should hurry or be eaten out of house and home."
Priss nodded and went to find Emmy. The future was beginning to look bright once again. She was happy and well and had the love of her life by her side once more. Never again would she have to worry about ruling or running, of hiding from those she loved. Her life was finally falling into place.
"Darling, are you ready?"
Emmy nodded and snuggled close to her. "You do know what our next big decision will be, don't you?"
Priss looked down at her. "Hm?"
Emmy had to smile. "Oh yes. Who will our wonderful son marry? Who will become the Queen of France?"