A/N: This is actually my first story ever. I wanted a quick little story to get going. Please keep an open mind and see what you think.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own HIGHLANDER (shame), or any characters here-in.
Death
Death
It is a word as old as time. A word that means an end to life. It is also a fate that all living things are destined for. A fate that we all share.
Even Immortals.
Initially, we are all born. We live our lives. Most are then met up with by fate. In some form or another, people die. What happens after is, of course, unknown. Such interpretations are, of course, left to whatever religious views you have. Heaven, hell, or prehaps complete nothingness. Who knows?
Then there are those of us who must die at least twice. In some violent manner, we are killed in our mortal lives. But later, we are reborn; immortal. We then participate in an event known simply as the Game. An event as old as time itself. But even Immortals must someday face fate. In this game, we fight for the Prize. To do so, we must fight one another and cause death in the only way that can happen: we take each others heads. For in the end, there can be only one. So, for centuries onward, even Immortals must face death. Some have been alive for centuries until they have finally lost. Others are inexperienced and impetuous, and lose having been around for a short time. And there are even those whose deaths are accidental. But they are still dead.
And what of the winner? Even he (or she), who wins the Game will become mortal. They will begin one last life, and then pass away.
I myself once thought, as so many others do, that I was destined for the Prize. But I quickly learned that survival, not battle, was the answer.The answer in staving off fate for as long as possible. In my time, I have seen loved ones and enemies die. I have killed over 200 opposing Immortals. But, in the end, my destiny was to help strengthen another's chance for winning. A brother. It is his potential to win the Game. To do so required the defeat of a powerful advesary. One who has haunted me for centuries. His power was too great for my brother or I to face alone. So I told my brother that the only way to kill him was a team-up. But working together is strictly forbidden by the rules of the Game. Another way had to be found. And I knew what that way was.
At first, my brother rejected my plan. But in the end, I told him, there can be only one. And so, he did the right thing. As i watched his sword approach, I could feel fate finally arriving. It had come at last. But at least my power would be given to a friend, and not an enemy. But even as it happened, I knew that I would live on through him.
I was Connor MacLeod of the Clam MacLeod. Born over 400 years ago in Glenfinnan near the shores of Loch Shiel. I was a Highlander. But now, I am dead, yet live on through my clansmen, friend and brother, Duncan. Only when fate finally meets up with him will I truly be laid to rest.
A/N: So what did you think? Let me know. Reviews, and yes, even critisicm, is welcome. No flames please!