What is this!? An update! DEAR GOD IT IS!!

I am so sorry, i meant to get this out earlier but school and running have been taking up literally ALL my time.

This chapter kind of snuck up on me as I ran out of inspiration for the rest of the story. So, eheu, this is officialy (unless one of you fabulous reviewers strike up a great idea for another chapter) this is the final chapter in Discovery. I am seriously almost (ok maybe more than almost) crying right now. I will talk more at the end, for now, enjoy:

Chapter 22

Her blade descended on the man as he frantically tried to raise his sword while attempting to keep his balance. His mad eyes were, at that moment, filled with trepidation.

She felt, rather than saw, the steel bite into the skin of his neck.

She felt her sword continue to sever the skull from body.

She heard the thump on the ground.

It was over. It was all over.

Her bloodied sword clattered to the ground, its ominous sound reverberating against the stone walls of the silent hall. Alanna stood there, shell shocked, immobile; the Duke lay in a pool of his own blood. No one knew what to do. What to say. What to even think.

George walked towards Alanna; the orange barricade had disappeared upon the demise of its caster. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as she stared at the headless body before them. There was nothing to be said as the knowledge passed silently between them.

She had truly killed the man. His girl had killed the most powerful mage in the Eastern Lands.

Alanna spat on the butchered body; his body: the traitor, the murderer, the kidnapper's. His reign of terror over her live had ended at last. She could walk through the halls of the Palace without thinking about what his next plot was against the Crown.

Sighing she leaned against her devoted friend for support, the adrenaline rush from the fight leaving and weariness seeping into her bones. The large gash on her face was bled sluggishly, stinging as sweat dripped into it.

A cry of pure anguish came from behind the two and they turned to find Jon kneeling beside his parents staring up at his friends with tears welling in his eyes. His mouth was open, but could form no words.

Gary stooped down by his aunt and uncle, checking each pulse in turn. His hands shook as he looked at Jon, a lone tear trailing down his cheek as he shook his head.

The heir to the throne let out a gut wrenching sob as he buried his ashen face in his hands, back trembling with grief. His cries echoed against the cold stone walls.

The King and Queen of Tortall were dead.

--)(:)(--

"We gather here today to celebrate the passing of our esteemed monarchs into the hands of the God of the Afterlife." The monotonous voice of the darkly garbed priest droned. He stood at the simple pedestal on the altar, between the handsomely carved caskets that lay on either side of him.

Black cloths ran along the aisle of the pews, in which sat the many mourners who were invited to the funeral. Outside the chamber doors were hundreds of others wishing to express their grief on the loss of the royal couple, and thousands more in the city streets weeping over their poignant demise.

Amongst those within the sealed doors was the Prince, and soon to be, King. His pale face gaunt as he took his place behind the podium where the priest had just stood. New creases were evident in his once smooth face, and his onyx hair had small silver strands running through it. His jaded eyes looked upon the hushed crowd before him.

"My mother and father were forever trusting and loyal in their ways, helping them forge alliances and friendships with other countries and fiefs within our borders. Never once did they suspect that their own kin would be their end. Until the very day of their passing they believed the late Duke Roger to be in their inner circle, they sought his advice and he commanded their armies. The thought of betrayal never once occurred to them, that was, until another trustworthy friend alerted them to his treasonous ways. But they, even with evidence against him, did not wish to believe their family would turn against them. Thus they sought out answers from the source.

When confronted with my parents, Roger transformed from the fine mannered man he was known to be, to a demented destroyer. He attacked them using magic, giving no warning or means of escape. By the time the curse had lifted and we were able to get to them, it was too late.

The former Duke Roger met his own demise at the end of a blade after a passionate duel. He was a turn coat and a conspirator, and the Black God shall give him his dues in the afterlife"

Jon stepped down from the altar and made his way to the pew in a calm only a practiced diplomat could manage.

The balding priest chanted the final prayers over the caskets of the fallen sovereigns, bowing his head and sprinkling holy water over them.

Robed priests then stepped up from the crowd and surrounded the wood caskets, lifting them up. Slowly and deliberately they carried them out of the chamber and a procession followed as they made their way to the Royal catacombs where King Roald and Queen Lianne would lay in rest forever and eternity.

--)(:)(--

Three Years Later

The cerulean lake sparkled as the gently sunlight bounced off the serene waters and caused little glimmers of light to dance across the surface. Brown and red leaves bounced through the air on the mild breeze that gave a slight chill to the warm autumnal air. Near the edge of the pool sat a couple speaking in moderate voices that fit in just right with the tranquil scene they occupied.

"Ye have changed in the past years." The lean one said his hazel eyes serious, yet still containing their mischievous twinkle.

"As have you." Replied the red head, sighing. "So much has happened, it is hard not to, I suppose."

The man chuckled. "True. Never did expect things to turn out as they have, eh Lanna?"

"Now what do you mean by that? You becoming respectable? Because I can assure you, George, that was the last thing I thought you would do."

"Well, yeah. That could be one of them." George responded mysteriously.

Alanna looked at the former Rogue, suspicion in her eyes. "And what do you mean by that?"

George looked directly into the young woman's violet eyes. "Yer Ordeal is in less than two months now. And I know Jon has gone over his plans for revealin' everything that happened a few years ago after ye are knighted. It will probably come as a shock to the city folk that you, not Jon, were the one ter kill him. Let alone ye are a girl." He paused there, scrutinizing her face for something she could not name before starting up again.

"Squire Alanna, forthcoming Sir of Trebond, I ask ye to do but one thing for me after you pass your Ordeal."

Alanna raised her eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"Will you marry me?"

That is it folks. Like the cliffy ending? mwaha.

I want to thank everyone who has been reading and reviewing and putting this story on their alerts/favorites since March. This was my first story ever to write and it has really been interesting to see how my writing has progressed from the first few chapters to now (I cant even make myself read those first few they are so awful. how did you guys do it?!) haha.

I really can not thank you all enough for giving me the inpiration and (at times, forceful) motivation to continue updating.

If any of you are interested, I have another Tamora Pierce story plot brewing right now and will soon be writing. I am going to change my short little one chapter "Too Swift for those who Fear" into a full fledged story. I will be changing the summary on that soon as well (so the summary there now is invalid). It will deal with original characters set in Tortall with a plot that i am totally excited to begin. (i have been planning this new story for months if that is any idea) I should probably stop now.

:takes deep breath: And now I say good bye to you all, and thanks once again for reading Discovery. (And I now know the hardest part about writing a story: Ending it.) OH! I want to leave a quote :finds quote:

"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams." - Paulo Coelho