A/N: I'm... not sure what really happened here. The original direction of this was perhaps lost a little but hey, we get Valtor x Griffin angst from Valtor's PoV for a change so...

The blades clashed and the sound entered his body, his veins to tangle with the adrenaline flowing through them. It was exactly what he needed, what he'd craved for so long now. Training didn't have the same effect when there was no opponent against him and he wouldn't waste his time sparring with any of his covenmates who couldn't rise to his level no matter how hard they tried. Not that Oritel was a match either but it was all he could hope for nowadays. Marion was not on the battlefield now that she was pregnant and Griffin was obviously avoiding him which he preferred to keep that way. He didn't need the feel of her magic all around him when a physical fight was so much more rewarding and helped focus his restless energy and pour it into the battle.

"Feeling tired?" Valtor mocked when Oritel barely blocked a swing that would've cut him in half a moment later. He was bursting with energy, not only because he had the power source Oritel could only get to feel when his wife was around, but also because he had undying anger in him to fuel him through everything and he knew how to use it, too. It would take extinguishing his rage to beat him and nothing could do that. Something impossible would have to happen to defeat that emotion that had turned more or less into a companion, a home when he had nothing else. "I may let you die with Marion and not make her suffer your demise if you surrender now," Valtor pushed to even the playing ground as much as possible. It wouldn't be a challenge otherwise.

"I'll never lose to you," Oritel seethed just like he'd expected he would, the self-righteous anger coming out on cue as just another proof he was so easy to manipulate and steer right where Valtor wanted him to go. And once he lost himself in the raging sea he didn't know how to navigate, he would lose his control too, throwing caution and planning to the wind and diving into battle headfirst to seek his death and prove Griffin had been wrong to join him and his friends in their hopeless quest to win against the Coven, to win against him. "My resolve is stronger than yours and so is my sword," Oritel growled like a madman and pushed him away before attacking with all the force he could muster while Valtor's words were in his mind and were doing their job of tearing his confidence and any beginning of a strategy to shreds.

Valtor evaded the strike with ease, making Oritel look like a fool as he lost his balance and almost fell, the force he'd wanted to hit him with becoming a rock that was weighing him down instead.

"Your sword won't save you no matter how special you believe it to be," Valtor taunted, hiding behind the smug sound like Mother Lysslis had taught him to. It wouldn't do to show his own outrage at the fact that Oritel dared to challenge him just because he had a spark of the Dragon Fire woven in his weapon. That power belonged to Valtor only and he'd make sure to take it from Marion too. "The Dragon Fire isn't yours to use," he said, unable to contain himself. He was done with having things taken away from him. It was him who'd take from now on.

"It's not yours either," Oritel bit back. "It's Marion's and you're just a fraud, an experiment gone wrong that should've never happened in the first place but those three witches don't have any sense left, just their pursuit of power," Oritel spoke, making his inner flames burn and reach to get out to prove him wrong. His Dragon Fire was just as natural as Marion's and even more powerful. It was the winning side of that opposition and he'd show them all how wrong they were to think otherwise. Death was always stronger than life and he'd teach them that lesson the hard way as they didn't leave him any other option with their refusal to see it and accept it.

"Even your wife won't be able to save you," Valtor glowered at him, giving himself a pause for a second to let the words sink in before attacking again. It was time to put an end to that fight. He'd drawn it out to entertain himself but he was getting bored, not to mention annoyed by Oritel's point of view on the matter that he neither appreciated, nor had the desire to hear. They weren't in a romance novel, that was for damn sure.

Oritel blocked his strike with ease this time, his gaze pushing into Valtor's just like their swords were as they were trying to cut through each other. "That's where you're wrong," Oritel said, his voice too calm as he was too sure of himself and Valtor didn't like having the balance of power being tipped away from him as if he'd had the rug pulled from under his feet. He'd fallen too hard already to do it once again. "Marion is my strength and as long as I have my family to fight for, you will never be able to defeat me," Oritel said, the fire in his gaze so familiar it made Valtor wish to break his eyes to pieces so that they wouldn't be able to harbor what had once been a reflection of his own but was now only a broken memory that cut through him and made his muscles weaker, and especially his heart. "My sword will always be stronger than yours because it's forged and yielded with love."

"We're not in high school, Oritel," Valtor said, choosing to focus on the naivety and ridiculousness of the words instead of on the feelings they carried. Keeping your focus on what mattered was key for winning and he couldn't forget that lesson after his mothers had made sure to drill it into his head. His education may have been more unconventional but that was exactly what would bring him victory. "Save your speeches for the drama club," he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep out the memories of the words that could've passed for poetry–the most beautiful poetry in the world–he'd been saying himself some time ago. The element of past was the important part in that thought. It was all behind him now and he was a weapon himself now just like he'd always been. And he would gladly go through Oritel if that was what he needed to do to accomplish his goal.

Valtor pulled back, just for a moment, just to gather the momentum he needed, and jumped right back into battle with a series of smooth, swift strikes that had enough force in them to cut through a fortress but Oritel had no problem avoiding or blocking them, sending sparks flying from their clashing blades. Sparks that only set Valtor on fire with the rage surging through him and almost made him release his magic to see Oritel burn as well but that would be a hit against himself and his own ego so he held back, holding on to the last ounce of respect he had for himself.

"You'd think differently if you'd felt anything similar," Oritel said, allowing himself the smugness over the trap he'd pushed him into, daring him to prove him wrong when he knew he couldn't. Or rather, he wouldn't. There was an easy way to prove him wrong but it would mean sacrificing his pride and he'd already lost too much to all of his enemies, old and new. "But I don't expect you to understand," Oritel spoke again, daring to insinuate he wasn't human enough to have love flowing through his veins and it made him wish to let out the demon in his essence and make him regret ever challenging him and trying to make him admit things that would unravel him or choose to accept the monstrosity being pushed on him from everywhere. "I'm fighting for a cause, and you're just fighting for yourself," he threw in his face, so lost in his tirade he didn't realize he'd pushed him past his limit. But that was okay with Valtor. It gave him the power to make him pay for it.

He used the energy, the madness he got from the image of her invading his system and put it towards defeating Oritel and making him cower away rather than on keeping the memories of her warmth and his desire to give her everything out of his head. It made him reel, the feeling of pain and sadness intoxicating and charging him with determination because without her he had nothing and he'd never been satisfied with that. So if he couldn't have her, he'd have what he'd wanted for the two of them.

He'd have the world at his feet and everyone begging him for mercy and he'd have none for them like they hadn't had any for him. He would make them all regret ever getting in his way and hurting him. And he would make her see her mistake, would make her wish to come back to him, would make her give him her heart again. And he'd prove her wrong, too, by keeping it safe even when he had all the power to destroy her and tear it to shreds. But he'd never been the monster she–and everyone else but that hardly mattered to him when it was the judgment in her eyes that made him bleed and threw him in pain–had tried to make him out to be.

He was so fast, like a lightning, almost like Mother Tharma's winds, and Oritel didn't even see him coming, his sword forced out of his hands before he could comprehend what was happening. Valtor had him pinned against the wall, the dangerous edge of his blade pressed against his throat and needing just a little push to sink in and spill his blood. And Oritel had already pushed him too far. Not to mention the poetic justice in it for all that Oritel had dared spit in his face.

He was more than tempted to see the look on his face as death took over him and realization of the pain Marion would have to go through sank in. And the thought of having Marion suffering the same fate he'd had and being weakened by the loss of her partner had him convinced to press the sword harder in Oritel's neck and see him bleed out slowly, his nostrils flaring from the smell of the first drops of blood as he nicked the skin and the widening of Oritel's eyes to accommodate the immense terror that filled them luring him even more into the idea to have someone else in pain other than himself.

"Valtor," Griffin's cry cut through him worse than Mother Belladonna's frost that was always so striking against the heat of his inner flames. It made his hold on his control slip, his hand shaking and forcing him to withdraw the blade a little to make sure he wouldn't make a mistake. He couldn't let her see him so lost in his thirst for vengeance. It would give her the wrong idea. And she already knew how much she'd hurt him so his last argument to hold his position and let his intentions play out crumbled under the logic that had been her religion and she'd made him believe in as well, taught him how to control his impulses and use his brain, be smarter and more strategical. And his plan would crumble if he affirmed her belief he was a monster like the three that had raised him.

She wasn't supposed to be there. He couldn't explain her presence, couldn't find a logic to her showing up only now if she'd been there the whole time. Had she been hiding from him or had she not sensed his presence? Which answer was less terrible? And what had made her come out? Worry for Oritel or worry for him and his soul, worry for their love that would die if he allowed himself to kill now?

He let go of Oritel and threw his sword on the ground, for it was useless to him. He wouldn't need it ever again because he'd proven he was stronger than Oritel but he couldn't fight him, couldn't hurt him if he wanted to keep the source of that strength alive. Her eyes were already full of too much doubt, and the pleading... The pleading had that edge of confusion that ripped through him with the uncertainty of being able to give her what she wanted. Because he couldn't tell what she wanted anymore. She'd told him she'd wanted a better world for dark magic users and she'd told him she'd wanted him, but she'd ran away from him when he'd tried to give her exactly that and she was now begging him, silently, her eyes torturing his soul with the watery agony in them, not to hurt their enemies. But maybe they were just his enemies now. And he had no idea how to deal with the fact that they were her friends because that put them on opposite sides and made him fight her when she was what he was fighting for.

"Griffin," he said, allowing himself to say her name with reverence at least once more because he wasn't certain he'd be able to do that the next time he saw her. She was avoiding him and the fires she'd set in his soul when she'd left him were burning bad enough to churn even the love he held for her so he wasn't certain he'd be able to keep it alive for much longer. It was the last time he could promise her he wouldn't hurt her and everything that came in the future was more than uncertain and unstable like he hadn't been used to it being when she'd been in his embrace, grounding him and showing him what he truly wanted to have.

He left without the artifact he'd come for. He couldn't make himself fight her for it when he knew that could be the last time he was capable of making that choice while he still wasn't blinded by the fire burning in his core. Even if he risked having it extinguished by his mothers. Perhaps that would be better as it would leave him no opportunity to hurt her. Even when she was the one thing that had the power to hurt him worse than any sword would ever manage.