How Many Times I'd Live For You

Chapter Seven

Live. Break. Repeat.

People age, people make mistakes, people slip their guard, people are fragile... People die.

It was only natural. It was inevitable. It was certain.

Abir loathed it.

He suffered from it.

Fiore suffered from it...

Abir was not human, but an immortal creature who laughed in the face of death... Well, he used to laugh in the face of death. Things have changed... He has changed.

The reason for that change came in the form of an arrogant and snobby man with a resting- No... more like a permanent face looking as if he'd just smelled trash. That man was spoiled, he was stuck up, he was an egotistical, pompous, bratty, snotty insolent little bastard... He was Abir's everything.

His Prince. His Prince! Abir knew his Prince better than anyone could ever, could see past the man's eye rolls and snarky huffs. He could see his prince for who he really was... and that was too much to put into words. How could Abir put Fiorello in words??

Fiorello was far from perfect, far from sociable, far from just about anything the normal person would gravitate towards. Fiore was a natural repellent to those around him, only bringing in crowds close enough to google at his looks like he was a painting on display.

But to Abir, Fiorello's appearance meant nothing. Of course, Fiore was beautiful, handsome, graceful, sharp, defined, the perfect princely appearance. He looked like a glorious peacock... but in reality, he was a fierce Cougar capable of so much more than people could imagine. Abir knew it in his heart, believed it to the mere core of his being.

Fiorello, his Prince, could flatten mountains if he put his mind to it. He has so much potential... So. Much!

But.... destiny outweighs potential.

Destiny was good. Destiny was great!

Destiny was bad. Destiny was horrible.

Destiny was tragic.

Fiore's destiny... was tragic.

Abir's destiny was just akin to his Prince's... but in a different way.

Different, but nonetheless heart-wrenchingly painful. Abir was close to breaking under its hand. He could feel destiny's shadow looming ahead of him, ready to embrace him in its cold tendrils of unstoppable grief and pain. He wanted nothing more than to slash out with Shadowbringer and slay it.

Not just slay it.

He wanted to kill destiny. Then. He'd do it again. And again. And again. And again.

He'd kill it as many times destiny killed his purpose for living. Just as destiny had done to Fiore... he'd return the favor.

And again.

He'd behead it in one clean strike and parade its hear around to a cheering town. He'd lodge an arrow in its chest where its heart pulsated. He'd crush it with boulders larger than horses until it was mere mush caked over brown rock. He'd stab it when it wasn't looking.

And again.

He'd poison its food and watch as it turns from white to red to purple.

And again.

He'd wrap a hand around its throat and squeeze so hard it would never take another last breath.

And again.