Hatred is a yearning ache, and emptiness. I know this for certain, because hatred is what I feel every moment. It is what I analyze and what I produce, glowing and precious, from the depths of my human soul.

My hatred is an ephemeral art. I can take my black canvas of a soul and stain it with any messy emotion I wish, but they will not show themselves to me, because-
I am perfect perfect perfect and their boring ineffectuality leads me to the perfectperfectperfect concept of hatred.

Hatred is not a color. It is a hole in the soul, cut through and clean, to reveal the human beneath. So I am the most human of all, even though I am-

perfectperfectperfect.

There are fools who can't understand, because they enjoy painting their pathetic white canvases with flowers and rainbows of sparkling emotion. But I will teach them, because hatred is even more beautiful in that it spreads. I can produce empathy for their hatred then, and it is a perfectperfectperfect circle. Someday, he tells me, I will feel the hatred even more, kicking inside me. I await this day, for I know it will come. They will all hate me, and from their hate, something will be born that will stop my eternal emptiness.

She was in my way. Lloyd and Linus easily hated, and so I could hate them for it, and we were all human. Together. Family. But the wretched girl still stood there, painting hearts of pink upon my black canvas that would never show them. She would cover the holes I had worked so hard to break through, because she had it easy and could not understand-

that I was perfectperfectperfect without her bloody intervention.

I would watch as Nino and her repulsive not-brothers would laugh and smile together, watch the happiness burrow in her soul and stretch its sickening tendrils through every inch of her body till her essence stank of it.

So I hated her. I hated her because of her emotions, because she could feel her pain. I hated her when she cried, because I could not. I hated her when she smiled, delighted at her own emotions, revelling in them like some sort of secret I was not permitted to partake in. Taking them for granted. Letting her smile romp through the dark hallways of the keep like she had some sort of right to it, just because she was a human girl and I am-

perfectperfectperfect, so there's no need to entertain myself with trivial things like "fun" and "laughter".

Laughter can only fling itself uselessly upon the dark, a short effort and a futile one. Fun does little better.

I hate him perhaps most of all, for while every action I committed screamed for him to despise me, he would not. The great Brendan Reed, reduced to a blubbering acceptance of lies. I had wished his honesty might show him, might let him join me in hatred so he wouldn't love me. I have no need of love, not now, when I cannot recip-

hardly stand it in the face of my perfectperfectperfect. Love is as trivial as laughter, and lives just as short before it blows away like the seeds of a dandelion weed. It may be brilliant yellow, bright as the sun, or a ghostly white that blows away like dust. It is still always a weed.

Hatred is an eternal promise. I have learned this from my great Lord. And I have learnt it for myself, for my body will not accept the fleeting stupidity of some emotions. It will not conceive them or feed them from my breast, my heart. If a being such as myself has no use or capability for pathetically beautiful and fragile emotions, I will accept the terrible ones, eternal hatred and jealousy, because they are simple. They are easy to pretend, not like happiness or sorrow, and they are human.

Hatred is human.

And so am I.

I suppose the little failure did give me one emotion that flared green and vivid, even upon the black.

Envy.

Envy is a start, because it means that I love something I can't have. What is adoration in comparison to envy? They are one and the same, for both are a great love that can push a creature to gloriously terrible lengths. So it is my first love, tender and rooting deep inside my belly. I can cherish it and nurture it until it grows into that which I desire.

I have a soul, because I am human.

Because I am perfectperfectperfect...

She is at my submerged prison, the assassin Jaffar at her side and the army to her back.

Mother, she calls me. A name that always skips carefree from her lips. Mother, mocking me-mocking me- because surely she knows, surely she can see that a being such as I cannot be her mother, will never be her mother or anyone's. Years with a man who says he loves me, and still nothing. Always nothing, for eternity.

I tell my not-daughter the obvious, and once again I can hate her, because she is crying and angry and confused all at once, and I have only my empty belly and empty heart and the emptiness is hatred. Always hatred.

Hatred is human.

Because it is sweet empty perfection...

Trust is temporary and deceit is eternal.

Then my not-daughter lights my canvas aflame, and I can see it, how beautifully it burns.

I am glad she hates me; I am relieved. We can hate together, be human together. She can be my true kin. I am proud to have borne this new emotion, fragile and fleeting, into the world. In the light, in the disappearing black of my soul, I can see the nothingness beneath.

Perfection is not human.

And neither-

A/N: De nile ain't just a river in Egypt! I love Fire Emblem's villains, because they are always very human (I didn't mean this as a pun...) and somehow pitiable. That is why they are AWESOME and real! Of them all, I always had the least sympathy for Sonia, because she attacked little Nino for what was solely a villainous reason: "I'm totally perfect and you're pathetic, so Imma take advantage of you and Nergal will rule the world MWA HA HA". This was an anti-hate piece (Another inadvertent irony! What am I DOING?). Now Sonia and I are cool. We hang out and occasionally meet up for lunch. Writing with twisted logic is really fun. By the way, the title of the piece is kind of from the song, "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon Five... Except she wants a different sort of love, and she just wants to exist as a human.

Thank you very much for reading, and criticism is loved, while flames will be doused with the water of my tears. Kidding. Have a wonderful summer!