If you wanted to, there is so much you could do with this piece. The thoughts that flow through her head near the end leaves so many possibilities. If you were to carry this on furthur, I know I would read it.
She whirled around. Green eyes scanned her surroundings, trying to penetrate the pitch black darkness, while hands gesticulated wildly in front of her, as if a defense from an upcoming attack.
Minutes passed and nothing happened, but that did not calm Ariana. Her breathing became more ragged, the fever which had not so long ago released her, held her in its clutches once more. Mouth dry, she tried to swallow, but found that she was unable to do so.
She was not alone. Why was she not alone?
Still as a statue, Ariana waited. She leaned against the cool stone wall, closing her eyes. Cold, how wonderfully cold was the wall-
Ariana screamed. Her shriek cut through the silence as blade might through flesh; the whole chamber resonated with the sound, echoing it back towards her.
A cloth was looped around her neck. Rough in touch, it cut her off from air which she soon so desperately needed. Her attacker stood silently behind her, having caught her by the wrists.
Seconds lapsed as she tried to free herself, but found that she couldn’t. Her assailant’s grip became stronger, the fabric left her with less and less air. Airana couldn’t breathe, she was suffocating.
Scenes before her eyes, a flood of them. Blood, blood everywhere. Not always her own, not always spilt by accident. And people. Faces appeared in front of her, only to blur and dissolve, leaving her with nothing again.
The material around her neck grew more taught, the coarse cloth a blistering, ever tightening rope.
Sounds. Laughter? Whose? Siena’s? Lesander’s? And smells. Death smelled like mint to her.
Ariana knew that she would die; she knew that from the moment she had been thrown in here, into this cold, damp cell with no windows. Deprived of sunlight and at the mercy of the watery, tasteless gruel that was called food, she withered, just as a flower might wilt in unfavorable conditions.
How many years was it? How much time had lapsed since all this had started? Was it worth it?
No, no it wasn’t.
Air. She desperately needed air, frantically holding on to what was let of her life. The looming over her walls seemed to enclose upon her; fire blazed in her chest and throat. Blood pulsated in her ears, pounding a rhythmical beat. Loud, so loud, it sealed her consciousness, cutting her off from anything else.
Her lips parted, as if wanting to say something, but not a sound could be heard. They closed again, a cold, lifeless stare in their stead.
Ariana of Saindon was dead
***
The door opened.
“Done,” said the man, closing it behind him. He was clad just as any other guard, the Tower’s insignia on his sky blue uniform. He smiled brightly at the guards stationed at the cell and left, aware and yet oblivious to the stares that followed him.
If you wanted to, there is so much you could do with this piece. The thoughts that flow through her head near the end leaves so many possibilities. If you were to carry this on furthur, I know I would read it.
Totally unexpected, but I loved it.
I don't think the bit about the guard at the end was necessary, it would be a very dramatic ending without it, leaving readers unable to stop reading.
Can't wait to read more
Keep it up!
There were a few grammatical errors ("let" instead of "left," in one case, for example) but mostly it was all fine and dandy in that department. Also, I'm not sure "gesticulated" is the word to use there; it's more commonly associated with speaking. (As in: "she gesticulated widly to emphasize her point" or some-such.)
Also ... [h]er breathing became more ragged, the fever which had not so long ago released her, held her in its clutches once more should either have a comma after "fever" or no comma after "her."
I liked it: I was expecting something like the Lioness Quartet: Mary Sue-ified female hero kind of thing, and this, clearly, was nothing like that. Very good job.
First of all, I would like to thank you all very much for the critiques - I really appreciate it! And yes, this is by its self. It doesn’t have any additional background or anything. I made most of the suggested correction, and, once again, thanks for them!
-elein
This was wonderfully written. There's a lot of suspense and it really got me hooked. 
She whirled around. Green eyes scanned her surroundings, trying to penetrate the pitch black darkness, while hands gesticulated wildly in front of her, as if a defense from an upcoming attack.
...the fever which had not so long ago released her, held her in its clutched once more.
Her lips parted, as if wanting to say something, but not sound could be heard. They closed again, a cold, lifeless stare in their stead.
...That was unexpected.
I love the way you conveyed your character's last moments... I'm going to guess that the rest of the story will be everything leading up to this moment, no? 
However, I would suggest that you use spell check before you submit anything. The typos and wrong spellings pull your reader right out of the suspense of this scene and makes them think, "...Wait, is that how you spell that word?"
Overall, however, you've got a great beginning going here.
Wow, that was really cool how you described everything!
However, there were a few parts that sort of stopped the flow a little. I suggest you should shange things like "taughtened" to grew taught", found that she was unable to do so. found that she was unable to do so to "Found she was unable to," and such.
But that was really good! I was impressed!
Woo! Wasn't expecting her to die. Is there anything that comes before this that I should read, or does it stand by itself?
If its just by itself, I think that's fine.
elein wrote: She was not alone, why was she not alone?
elein wrote:Ruff in touch, it cut her off from air which she soon so desperately needed.
elein wrote:Seconds lapsed as she tired to free herself,
elein wrote:Deprived of sunlight and at the mercy of the watery, tasteless gruel that was called food, she withered, just as a flower might wilt in unfavorable conditions.
elein wrote:Sounds. Laughter? Whose? Siena’s? Lesander’s? And smells. Death smelled like mint to her.
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