Author's Note: This is my first Soul Calibur fic, and it's a work in progress—any advice you have, please give. Constructive criticism accepted, appreciated, adored. R&R are more than welcome.

Please note that this fic was inspired by a dream I once had, so it might not be a very long story and if the characters are OOC at some point, I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: Soul Calibur and all related characters belong to Bandai Namco. I am not making any money off this story, as the only part of it I actually own is the story itself.

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One: The Quarrel

"It's black… Everything is black… I don't remember much what happened but I know one thing for sure… I am happy, I am happy because in the end I was able to stay with you… This really is the only end I wished for…"

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Raging voices could be heard from the living room, they were both into deep arguments, which seemed to lead nowhere. For why they had started, they were not too sure themselves. It only just started for stupid reasons... like most of the time actually…

A glass flew by the room, crushing itself on the wall and falling into pieces.

"What are you doing throwing a glass at me?! Are you crazy or something?!" He yelled at him as he was evading the flying object.

"So what if I am? Do you seriously think you know everything about me?" Replied the Frenchman as he was trying to contain himself.

He didn't want to throw it, but his hand moved on it's own free will.

"I may not know everything about you but at least I-"

He was rudely cut as the other man turned his back on him, refusing to listen to any of his words.

"-Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Insulted by his acting, Schtauffen grabbed Raphael's shoulder and pulled him back, forcing him to turn around but he was brutally repelled and lost balance.

"Leave me alone!! I don't need you to be on my back!"

He yelled at the blond as he was turning around.

The wall behind him wasn't very far, unfortunately for him; it had to be this one where every wineglass was perfectly aligned. As he fell, he crushed through them trying to get a grip on something but his fingers failed at finding anything worth helping. The only good it did was no good. One of the racks holding them descended with him causing the entire tumblers to rain over his German head.

Siegfried was now resting on the cold floor, drenched in glass chunk. He was raging inside his soul but remained calm as he appeared.

Witnessing this scene, Sorel's stare softened but he could not move an inch. He was worried but shocked. The younger one then brought a hand to his head, kept his eyes closed and tried to relax. The fallen men tried to get back on his feet but fell back clumsily for his body wasn't stable due to the shock it had just received. Raphael finally moved and took a hold of his arm but was immediately repulsed.

"Don't you dare touch me again!"

Those words had him frozen.

Siegfried's hands bared multiple cuts from the debris and so did his face. It was burning, but he refused the other's help and finally stood by himself. He gave the oldest a cold stare and left. After leaving the room, he walked to the front door and exited the house, closing the door strongly enough for the other to hear.

How could things have turned out like this? How did it all happen? Why did they have to start an argument that strong for something so childish?

Raphael took his head between his hands and let himself fall on the nearest chair.

"You have no right to look at me with those eyes Siegfried…" The man murmured to the cold silence of the room.

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