For once, was the simple plea thought.

His truest mother had been slain by her mate long ago.
His siblings had felt the need to make their smallest blood relative a slave to their whims.
He had put much time to killing his father, unfortunately, gaining sibling respect.
His siblings never needed him unless it suited their needs.
He made quick disposal of them also.

He spent counted hours of the day to steal his own needs till even he lost count.
His skills were well wanted but wanted by the need of others.
He scorned the others for their use of his stolen skills, though needed the aid.
His fighting skills, both in brawn and brain, soon exceeded most.
He wanted everything, everything worth having in gained solitude.

His notorious skills came to the stark attention of ones more powerful.
He had a partner forced upon him, a partner to expend and exploit him.
His partner fell in miscalculation, a presumptuous belief.

He spent many years alone, perfecting the name given by lowly and highly kind.

He had yet another partner imposed upon him, a sharp partner intrigued by his label.
His new partner fell, not by his hands, but by a mere token wrapped about the neck.
He was much disappointed.
His partner had, like others killed before, taken advantage of his skills.
He was much at anger, a coursing need of causing the blood of his partner, and made dire mistake.

His life began fresh, anew again, along with a stern promise.
He was to be untouched, unused, and a life of his complete own.

His new mother was kind, a new acquired taste, and he deemed her faint heart to forever stay with his own.
His old world made brief contact with his own and he felt wrongly blessed that they only used him once.
He soon found his mother dieing of the incurable.
His wish of keeping his mother this time around caused him to rely upon old skills.

He saved her…but not without horrible disaster.

He was taken advantage of skills once more, for a whole unforgettable year.
He saw his opening to take his life back to how he needed and took it.

He knew the need.
He knew it futile.
He knew it cold.
He knew it would come.

For once, was the simple plea thought.
For once could he not be used?