Not The One ((ON HOLD))

"I'm not the one," the smaller man gasped through the blood spilling through the blood from his mouth. His head rose defiantly at the stone face above him. The broadswords never left its enclosure stuck between his heart and lungs. For then came that moment when he met those red eyes with his own Persian green ones. Red fringed light butter-blonde hair. He grunted, as his chest went into a spasm of pain, as he collapsed onto the ground. "I'm not the one," he tried to say as his green eyes darkened, "to hurt you..."