At night, we stood guard on death's eve.
Solemn heads bowed, two brothers bound by a shared pain.
I stood by his side, liquid streak of heart sorrow laid a path across my cheek.
Mirror image of infinite pain, I mourned his ache.
Gently, I placed my hand on the hilt.
Gold plated, shiny and svelte it stood out in the clear darkness.
Two breaths and it rested free in my hands.
The hole carved out in his chest, the only reminder of its presence.
She was the devil, he murmured between shallow breaths.
I understand his sorrow, so I stand firm forgiving his foolishness.
A time close enough to be called a memory, he had once preached her angelic.
Now, wings lost, horns found.
Urging him on, I pushed him off death's bed.
His savior, friend, confidant, brother in arms.
I have fought this war once and I live. Victorious.
He looks at me, into me and he knows.
I've lived his life once before.
I have lain bleeding on death's bed, slain by her.
My precious angel. Loathsome devil.
Silent confidence guiding my hands, I place her dagger in his and watch as he tosses it into oblivion.