First, there is only anger, as the One's Champion casts the Beautiful One out. Bitter words are exchanged, about pride, about loyalty, about brother- and sisterhood. They will fight. They will never surrender.
Their battle strips green planets of life, turns thriving young suns into cold black holes, changes hearts and minds from bright creation to merciless destruction. Sometimes one wins sometimes the other. The Lone Ones armor shines black in the darkness; the Champion's spear burns with a terrible fire. Their ferocity masks the fact that, it in the end, neither is entirely sure what they are fighting about.
The next time they meet—not that they really have a next, any more than they have a before or a now—is after Prometheus gives fire to the mortals. The Lone One is great, but even the mightiest Power can be hurt be enough small, determined flames.
And even the greatest Powers have to pay the price for what they do, so the Champion is chained to a mountain while the Lone One's eagle tears out his flesh with loving agony each day. Prometheus tries to speak to the eagle, but each day it just reaches out its talon.
The Lone One has been whispering words of madness in the king's ear for years now. At last they come to fruition—the messenger from the rest of the galaxy is mistrusted, though what he wants is just communication. But he comes back—how, exactly, did this happen, the Lone One wonders—and the planet joins the Ekumen. The Lone Power is watching when it becomes aware of a Presence.
"Did you think it could turn out any other way?" the One's Champion asks. "Even they knew what would happen."
"Shut up" seems like a terribly un-Power-like thing to say.
They stand invisible to others in the forest, as the men fight the Vikings. When the Anglo-Saxon lord, in his pride, gives the Vikings too much ground, the Lone One laughs.
The Champion raises an eyebrow. "You think thus of one who acts out of pride?"
"I think thus of fools who let their enemy win."
"Do you think you can win?" asks the Champion.
"This time, or ever? If you mean this battle, I've already won." It points to men fleeing the battlefield.
They wait and watch as until the last Anglo-Saxon dies with a smile on his lips.
They sit in a coffee shop as the world burns.
"Did you think it could turn out any other way?" The Lone One smirks. "Even they knew what would happen."
The One's Champion is silent.
"I didn't even have to give them weapons technology myself. The Forevers did it for me, and I repeat, even they knew this would happen. What are you even doing here?"
"Waiting," the Champion says.
The Lone One takes out an elegant lighter and lights a cigarette. It swishes the cigarette impatiently. "For what?
"You."
"Remember what I said about fools and losing battles?"
"Yes."
Tears shine in the no-longer-Lone One as it beholds Paradise again. "Sometimes, losing battles are the best ones."
The One's Champion tries, without much success, to keep a straight face. "What about fools who let the enemy win?"
"But you're not my enemy anymore," the Beautiful One points out.
"Was I ever?" asks the Champion.
" Your people's 'Fairest and Fallen, greetings and defiance' is fairly clear about that. By the way, I've heard that so many times that I would mouth along with the words if it didn't spoil the effect."
The Champion smiles. "Fairest and Unfallen, welcome back."