I own nothing. Thank you for reading though. This is a one shot unless you want more...?

Anyways, break out the kleenex because (well, you may not) but I cried writing this. I'm a wimp. Enjoy!

He lays there. His breathing is silent but deep. I the fabulous Demon Lord can't help but admire the work of art before me.

Young, innocent, pure, and vulnerable.

It was a mistake my sweet child for me to find you now, here while you are so young, so terribly young. I smile as I brush the hair from his face. His dirty blond hair, his tiny fragile body... So fragile.

I admire his innocence, I admire his bravery, but I envy his defiance. The child who will defeat me in the future... no. Not in my story. I take a deep breath and calm myself. I feel no guilt for what I am about to do. I feel no sorrow, no loss.

This small child, maybe only seven, will never see the sunrise tomorrow. His golden haired friend will never see his smile, he will never wield a sword, he will never meet me. I am fine with this.

I suppose I could turn him into my personal slave, I guess I could torture the boy to death, I could make him kill himself, but I won't. I have a better duty, one that takes accuracy and perfection to complete. He sighs and rolls over.

I can't help but wonder what blissful dreams your imagination has granted you with? His tiny voice makes a sound of pleasure as I grasp his tiny hand. In one short second, I could snap the bone like a twig... but I wont. No, instead, I will take my bloodied sword and praise the day I kill the small seven year old.

I silently snap calling a beautiful black dagger in my hand. He wont feel anything as I steal his soul, he wont ever feel the blissful release from this hell, this confinement from the prison they call a body. I lightly trace his throat with my blade.

But I want to see his dreams when he dies. I hold tighter onto the hand and peer into his mind. He is flying. Flying among the clouds, so sweet, so deceiving.

He inhales, then exhales, inhales, then exhales and I ready my knife. He exhales and I drive the dagger through his throat. In his dreams, he last dream is of a rose, handing it to the dreaded Goddess, then his mind goes blank, his pulse, stopped, his body, limp.

I'm sorry Skychild, it's nothing personal, blame the goddess if you must, but this was only because I hate her. You would be in my way.

I never even knew your name...

And you never even knew mine...

Review! Tell me what you think! Was it good, bad, terrible...? All up to you!