Chapter Text
"I can’t let you do that, Anne" Sasha warned, pulling out both her swords.
"Oh yeah?" The brunette turns around and Sasha almost considers telling her that she doesn’t need a sword, the look in those caramel eyes has already maimed her.
"Just try to stop me!" She yells, lunging toward Sasha with her chipped sword in front of her.
Sasha swings her sword up into a cross in front of her body, keeping Anne's sword from touching her, but her heart drops. If she hadn’t blocked that -
She quickly came to realize that she could not mess up right now. This wasn’t the same Anne she dueled at Toad Tower. No, this time the Thai girl slashed relentlessly, no hint of hesitation or caution, no sense of guilt or regret slowing her down before she moved her sword to strike again. She was aiming for vitals, showing no mercy, and Sasha knew that if she slipped up, it could leave her badly wounded or dead.
It was fair enough though, she couldn’t fault Anne for not thinking with a rational mind, she was pissed. Sasha didn’t understand why she was so mad, everyone tells lies, and she didn’t try to kill anyone this time, but she had to say that Anne channeled her rage well.
Sasha blocked another hit aimed at her face and with that, made contact with Anne. She could have sworn those warm bronze eyes were gleaming red, and she knew Anne could see the ice in her own artic blue orbs.
Sasha stepped back and pushed her swords forward as Anne swung at her again and again, eventually coming at Sasha from the side and forcing them to switch positions. Sasha swiped at Anne's sword with both of hers, chipping it again but not being able to pry it from the brunette's grip. But other than that, Sasha wasn’t on the offense. She wanted to make Anne listen to her, not kill her. She could hear the noises of Sprig and Grime fighting, and the faint cacophony of the chaos on the streets, but everything seemed to dull down, and she could hear Anne's heavy breathing as they both stepped back for a moment
"Anne, I-" Anne practically dove forward with her sword outstretched, quite literally cutting Sasha's sentence short.
"I told you, dude. I'm done listening to you." The clashing of metal filled the air as their swords struck each other, again and again. Sasha gritted her teeth, trying to push the brunette backward and gain some space behind her. Anne tossed her head to the side, swinging her sweaty hair out of her face, and raised her sword...
--
She brought down her racket, and with a quick yet powerful swing, the tennis ball flew towards her opponent’s side of the court.
Sasha couldn’t see very well but she knew from what the referee said that the last hit had done it. Anne had won the game. Quickly the blonde got to her feet, doing some cartwheels and a little routine at the end with her pompoms to celebrate Anne's victory. Scenes of Anne tensing her biceps as she gripped the racket, flipping her hair out of her face, and throwing a quick smile back at Sasha and Marcy flashed through the blonde's head as she finished her cheering and dropped her pompoms. Marcy had already rushed forward, squealing, to hug Anne, and Sasha smirked as Marcy peeled herself off Anne and whined about how sweaty she was. As Sasha walked towards them, she overheard the tail end of their brief conversation.
"...you’re the one that hugged me in the first place." Anne jabbed Marcy in the side.
"I didn’t think you would be that sweaty, look - it got on my clothes!" Anne laughed as Marcy whined and tried to wipe off the sweat stains with a towel.
Sasha wrapped her arm around Anne's shoulders and pulled her close, flicking her forehead.
"You did good, Annie."She snorted, knowing how much Anne hated that nickname and anticipating the vocalization of just that.
"Sashaaaaaa!" Anne groaned, trying to stop the blonde from repeatedly flicking her forehead.
"Don’t call me that!! And dude, stop!" But Anne was giggling, causing her protest to become very ineffective. Sasha eventually pulled away only to give Marcy a noogie.
"Had to leave some for you, ya nerd!" Marcy squeaked and tried to get away, smiling nonetheless.
Anne intertwined her fingers with Sasha's and Marcy's, not noticing how the blonde looked away to hide her blush. And the brunette led them away, Sasha smiling at the back of her head and wondering how she got lucky enough to have Anne in her life.
--
Her swords slipped as she attempted to block and Anne's sword slid right through her chest like it was butter. Anne quickly dropped her sword, although it stuck firmly in Sasha’s chest, and covered her mouth with both hands, her pupils shaking and her eyes widening.
Sasha fell to her knees.
"S-Sasha." Anne rushed forward.
"I didn’t mean to - I swear I didn’t I'm so sorry."
Sasha hisses as the fiery pain starts spreading through her chest and back.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Anne sobs, trying to cover the wound with her hands without actually touching the sword. Her sword.
"Anne-" Sasha starts, trying to reach out to her before her legs completely give out. Anne catches her before she falls and cradles Sasha in her lap, her tears showering the blonde's face.
"Anne - it’s okay." Sasha grits her teeth as her adrenaline pulses, sometimes making her feel nothing at all and sometimes intensifying the agony so much that she wishes it was just over already.
"No Sasha! It’s not okay! I-I- this wasn’t supposed to happen. I can fix it. I can fix it." Anne bawls, her mind going a million miles an hour. How did it come to this?
Sasha starts to cough up blood.
"I forgive you, Anne. I gotta do something. Bend down here real quick." Sasha wheezes her way through the sentence, blood dribbling down her chin. Anne complies, rivers of tears cascading down her face.
Sasha reaches one hand up and grabs her face weakly before kissing her, just a peck. The blood from her lips smudges onto Anne as the brunette looks down at her in bewilderment and agony.
"I love you. And one more thing." Her hand grips around the handle of the sword, Anne's brain too overloaded from what Sasha just did to process what she’s about to.
"Don’t trust the king."
With a grunt, Sasha yanks the sword out of her chest as she collapses, limp onto Anne's lap. Blood pours, soaking Anne's legs and skirt and the stones of the wall. The artery in her chest squirts blood up at Anne, splattering the brunette's face. Sasha’s blood isn’t just on her hands.
"Sasha?" Anne cups her face, seeing the ghost of a smile on her lips, tracing her thumb over the scar on her cheek. But when she looks into her eyes, she knows. Those are not the cerulean eyes she loved fiercely and hated with a fiery passion. These are flat, almost grey, dull, and milky. Anne looks into her eyes and knows Sasha is dead.
Sasha is dead and Anne is the one who killed her.
