Fatal Love

The boy drew out his sword, a shrieking cry. How he carried the blade, no one would ever know. Sweat dripped down into his great emerald eyes, glistening dangerously. His mouse brown hair was cropped just above his eyes, yet keeping his sight free of random tresses. His breath came slow and steady, ready, but his eyes betrayed his fear, glistening abnormally. He licked his dry lips, rearranging his grip on the hilt of the heavy blade. He hoped the blade would not slip from his hands from the perspiration on his hands.

In front of him, a man stood. He was nearly double the boy in weight, but equal in height. The older man's face was haggard, a scratchy beard forming like a shadow on his wind beaten face. He held his blade with ease, a grace of cat. A grin of pure malice formed on his face in a twisting of muscles and skin. Those piercing pale pink eyes glinted in hatred, a silent snarl.

The boy flinched involuntarily, unable to take the glare of the prematurely eyes, his arm jerking. The older man laughed, throwing the blade in a wide mock arc.

The boy jumped back, nearly losing his balance as the blade added to the momentum. He looked back at the man. "Not funny," he cried out, poising his body again.

The man only laughed again, but lunged at the boy. The boy slid to the side, just missing the sword, and brought up in a low sweep, trying to catch the man in the midriff. But the man was quick on his feet, side stepping the boy's slow swing and thrusting his blade towards the boy's chest. The boy dodged the blow, feigning to the left and slashing at the man's legs. The man swore as the metal kissed the flesh. But he grinned suddenly, causing the boy to suddenly shudder. The man brought the blade in a wide sweep, but the boy allowed the man to believe the man was winning. Just before the blade licked his chest, the boy ducked low to thrust his sword at the man and roll away.

The man grimaced, clutching the gash in his gut. The man quick straightened, still clutching his sword in an unwavering hold. The boy stared, believing he might have won. Laughing, the man threw a series of quick thrusts, a curve catching the boy in the right shoulder down to his abdomen.

The boy cried out, almost dropping his sword. Almost. He allowed the tip of the sword to drag on the stony floor, his body slightly slumped in feigned defeat. The sweat was threatening his eyes, but he did not dare to whip it away as the man circled him.

"Hah, knew you would give up within the first moments," he hissed, his eyes glinting wickedly. "Though I have to say, you did give a good fight. Just like she promised."

The boy kept his head bowed, but he knew where the man was by the traveling sound of his hoarse voice. "Let her go!" he railed, his breathing heavy. "She doesn't belong to you."

Stopping on the boy's right side, the man tilted his head upwards, a grin on his face. "Oh? But I think she does, doesn't she? After all, she is my cousin. Was it not ten years ago when I was shoved into a cell with her? And was it not I who looked after her when Recondus, her father, died? She is more mine than yours. I love her more than you ever did."

The boy shook his head. "You're sick in the mind. It is against the laws of nature, to worship a cousin beyond paternal or family love."

And with that, the boy turned to face the older man, drawing his blade in a wide upper arc. He caught the man unguarded and in the chest. The blood splattered everywhere, pulsating from a severed artery. The boy jumped back, avoiding the blood shed as the man fell to his knees, the sword falling in a clatter to the floor. He clawed at his neck, where the blood flowed, and his hands fluttered over his chest, where bone was exposed. At last he fell, his eyes wide open and blank.

"And that's why you must leave this world," the boy added, holding back the urge to spat on the dead man's face.

But as he ran past the corpse and pulled the double doors to the high tower open, the boy heard a scream. He dropped the sword and clambered up long flight of winding stairs, hoping for only the best yet fearing the worst. After what seemed to be an eternity, he came upon yet another pair of double doors leading into her room. He heaved the door opened, his heart pounding in trepidation.

There, by the window, stood a young woman, her hair like gold and eyes like sapphire as she stared at him in horror. The dress she wore was well worn and colorless. But it did not matter what she wore; her beauty shone through. But the horror on her face drained the blood, leaving her pallid.

The boy walked into the room, his face shinning with triumph. He opened his arms to receive her. "Risa, thank the gods you are well."

She shied away from his touch, her face suddenly ignited with rancor. "You killed him!" she cried, her eyes swelling with tears.

He shook his head. "He kept you as his prisoner."

Her face crumpled, blotchy red. "He loved me, Griff, he loved me!"

"I love you," Griff, the boy, exclaimed, his gestures frantic.

She turned from him, her face buried in her hands. "You don't understand, do you? It was not love that you and I share. It was stronger, much stronger. Something you couldn't ever understand. You were always so full of yourself, Griff. He never was, which was why I could go to him whenever things went wrong. With you, you merely pretended to listen and then went about your own ways, seeking for more glory."

Griff strode forward, trying to comfort her by placing his hand on her shoulder. "Risa, that's not true. I am truly sorry if you felt that way, but that love between Emeric and yourself, it was immoral. By the gods, Risa, he was your first cousin!"

Suddenly, she turned around in a flash, her eyes indignant. But it wasn't her face, her anger he saw. It was the pain in his chest he felt. His eyes dropped down to see a blade, the very blade he gave Risa on her sixteenth birthday, embedded deeply into his chest. The blood swelled around the edge of the blade before cascading down his chest like waterfalls. If it was not the physical pain he felt, then it was the mental pain he felt as he looked up again into those blue eyes like stone.

"It was never you I loved," she hissed as she twisted the blade in his chest, drawing more blood.

Griff cried out in pain, grinding his teeth against the agony before the vision before him went black. His breath began to fall short, in shallow gasps. Life slipped away through his fingers like water, like sand. But as he slipped away, he felt soft lips against his own and sweet waves of relief washing over him, taking away the pain. And in his mind's eyes, he saw Risa knell down to take his hand in hers to bring both of them towards the sky and the shinning heavens.

A/N: These are the same characters from Of Immortals and Demons and I know that Emeric wasn't older than Griff or that Emeric wasn't that sick and twisted, but let's just pretend he was for this one shot.