A/N: After getting defeated by the Winx, Valtor has one more adversary he needs to face.

It was cold and it was dark, and he couldn't find his Dragon Fire no matter how hard he reached for its warmth and light. And soon the emptiness that his missing magic had left behind started to fill with fear as he grappled for anything familiar in the void that seemed to host just his consciousness only to come up with nothing. His thoughts became frantic and expanded, taking over the empty space and making it insufficient, evoking the suffocating and constraining feeling of claustrophobia, forcing him to struggle and claw to break out of his own mind, tearing at whatever few sensations he could feel and pulling them apart, but to no avail.

A persistent irritation drew his attention and saved him from himself as he recognized the sensation. Something was tickling his nose, the feeling invading his nerve endings and awakening them, awakening him.

His eyes opened and, normally, he would wince against the bright light he was met with, but he was just glad to be able to see it. A bit relieved as well, but he would never admit that even to himself. It would mean admitting he'd lost control of the situation and his own being. And that was a truth best left buried in the dark where no one would be able to see it.

The tickling was becoming unbearable and he reached up to brush away the offender. The softness of the hair was alarming with how foreign but also familiar it felt. It was clear it wasn't his own and that had him wrecking his mind for any indication of who he could've trusted enough to allow them by his side while he was vulnerable in his sleep. That was usually out of the question and he'd only ever allowed it to one person...

His train of thought derailed as he froze – much like the events that had followed his weakness had left him. His throat closed and his mouth fell open as he sought oxygen but even the rapid rising and falling of his chest wasn't enough proof that he was breathing. Not when he could feel someone else's skin pressed against his bare chest and the heaviness of someone's head on his shoulder. He didn't want to look but the burden of the uncertainty was crushing him, squeezing all the life out of him.

He was met with exactly what he'd expected – a wave of purple hair in the most beautiful shade he'd ever seen spilling over his bed and his skin like blood dripping from the open wound on his ego and on the soul he'd always wondered if he possessed but that had to be what hurt so much so at least the pain was good for something.

He jumped out of bed–the realization that that would wake her and put an end to him only coming in retrospect–to find himself naked and exposed to all the horrors that would come when she took a look at his body. He remembered the look she'd had in her bright golden eyes when she'd set out to love him. They'd been shining with adoration, the light of which had been soft and inviting, and yet, had still managed to blind him to the truth. It had kept him from seeing how she'd betray him and that had nearly destroyed him, his heart trapped in an ice cube of its own long before he'd been imprisoned in Omega. He needed to cover himself. He needed something to save him from her sweet, tempting gaze.

He only found his underwear on the floor and managed to put it on before the quiet sound of the sheets being thrown away cut through him. He whipped around–turning your back on the enemy was mistake number one–to see her emerge from the sanctuary of his bed like a breathtaking vision. She was only clad in his shirt that was barely held closed by the one button that was done. It left a lot of pale and soft skin exposed and seducing him to get close. Her hair framed her body in much the same way her magical aura did, making her look ethereal and heaven-like, with purity and kindness tangled between the purple strands. It hurt with the knowledge how far from reality all of that beauty was but he still couldn't make himself look away.

The smile that he loved, for it made him feel like anything was possible when she was at his side, met him from the face he despised. It had been the one image he'd concentrated all of his hatred and vengeful thoughts at and it should have made him see red but it didn't. Just like he'd expected. Because every time she looked at him–especially when there was no resentment and anger in her gaze–she made him fall for her all over again, breaking his bones against the thick ice walls of reality that kept him separated from the woman who loved him and the blood spilling from his wounds only made it more slippery and difficult to get back on his feet and gather himself.

"Good morning." Her voice was melodic as the words were laced with affection and her eyes shimmered with happiness at the sight of him, much like fairy dust that was meant to repel dark magic and, by association, him. Yet, he was so drawn to them and the thought of holding her in his arms that he had to exert himself and force his muscles to keep still even when his mind was pulling him towards her. She took a step closer and the memories of her body pressed against his and allowing him to sink into her being were enough to seduce him back into her embrace.

The thought had him jump back as if her voice had scalded him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, doing his best to ignore the beat his heart skipped when she stopped her crusade and didn't try to close the distance between them. She was already too close. He could feel the warmth of her body and it was far too alluring. Especially now that the heat of his Dragon Fire was gone. She was the only thing that could bring him comfort. But he had to keep her away because all she'd given him had been years of frozen isolation.

"You had me here," she smirked playfully at the double meaning of the words. "Looks like my plan to make you forget everything besides me was successful," she prowled over to him, her grin more satisfied rather than predatory and didn't make him want to pull away. Instead, her words only bent his mind to her will and had him imagining things, a powerful craving awakening in him. "We can go back to bed and recreate the effect," she purred as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his, feeding his hunger and drowning out everything that wasn't her or his desire for her.

His hands found her hips as if by instinct and it brought back memories that he'd tried to banish from his head. Memories of what it felt like to hold her in his embrace, of what it felt like to pull her closer and feel less alone than he had in his entire life, and most terrifying of all, memories of what it felt like to love her. "No," he pulled back, forcing her to relinquish her hold on him. "I don't want you. Get out of here," he grabbed her arm, ready to drag her out of the room, but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes found no door.

The room was the same as he remembered it. The blinds were always pulled open–not even against his will–since she was an early bird and loved to read, and he loved to do anything that would make her smile. There were plants that hadn't been there before she'd practically moved in but he loved hearing her talk to them, her soft voice caressing him even when the words weren't meant for him. His bed was still warm from her form and his sheets smelled like her. And the only thing that was missing was the door. He was trapped in the room that was supposed to be his home but was rapidly shifting into a prison when he couldn't throw out the woman that had been supposed to be his home but had betrayed him instead.

"No one's getting out of here," Griffin said, drawing his attention away from his spiraling thoughts and he couldn't decide if it was better or worse. Her voice kept him from getting lost in his own mind but it also reminded him why it was in that state in the first place. He was forced to listen to her. And he was forced to look at her, too, look at the eyes that had looked honest when she'd told him she loved him, only for it to turn out to be a lie. "No one gets out of the afterlife." The words proved stronger than his stubbornness, for he was looking at her. "You can't get rid of me."

His first instinct was to object. Not just because it was coming from her, but because it couldn't be true. It had to be a lie. Only, he already knew it wasn't. He'd never been severed from his Dragon Fire before but seeing how it was the element of life, it made sense that he couldn't feel it in death. Which meant there was no point in holding her arm and feeling her skin when she was telling the truth and he couldn't get rid of her.

He shoved her away from himself and it was painful to see her so unfazed even when she stumbled. It was to be expected, of course, since nothing he did was ever enough to move her. She'd stood by calmly and watched as he–the man she claimed she loved–had been sentenced to a fate worse than death.

"When did you die?" he asked because he couldn't remember anything of the sort happening. Of course, he couldn't remember his own death either but that seemed to be the only memory missing from his head. All the times he'd felt like the only man in the universe when he'd been in her embrace still seemed to be there and those would have most certainly been the first to go in the case of memory problems. And yet, he couldn't recall her death which would be more than important to him. He'd never wanted her to die. Especially if it meant being stuck with her in the afterlife.

"I haven't," she said, her lips getting pulled into a smile and the show of teeth made him feel far too vulnerable and helpless. He found himself almost reaching for his throat as if to protect it from the sharpness coming off of her. "I can't die, for I'll always be in your mind." Her knowing gaze sent shivers right down his spine and made him want to rip the shirt right off her frame since that was the only garment in sight and he couldn't summon his flames to warm himself up. Even if that would leave him exposed to the sight of her naked body and that was another weapon that it was too dangerous to give her. "You let me in there and shut the door behind my back, trapping me inside to keep you company in your lonely existence." The words closed around him like a tightening noose and he refused to let her choke the air out of him. She'd killed him once already.

"You left me," he yelled as he grabbed at her throat and walked her into the wall, slamming her into it just to hear her cry out, the sound strangled thanks to his rough grip on her. "You have no right to be in my head," he snarled and it barely registered in his mind that the words–and his behavior–still betrayed his weakness and were probably exactly what she'd been fishing for. Her hands grabbed at his wrist but he was ready to hold on to her no matter how hard she'd claw at his skin.

She didn't try to struggle out of his grip, though. "You won't let me go," she spoke, her voice quiet and harsh from the lack of oxygen, in perfect contrast to the soft touch of her hands when she refused to struggle and left her life in his hands. And he couldn't let go, for her words had left him frozen and trapped. So trapped in her openness and cruel refusal to hurt him. "You were afraid of hurting me once," she barely rasped out, "remember?"

He did. Of course he did. The only thing he couldn't remember was how he'd gotten there. But the fear of doing anything that would hurt her had been engraved into his being ever since she'd confessed her feelings. He'd been unable to comprehend how someone like him could get lucky enough to have her in his life. And the terror had carved holes into his mind and eaten away at his heart, nearly making him shake every time he remembered the possibility of harming her, torturing him like nothing else ever had. Not Lysslis' illusions or Tharma's electrocutions. Not even Belladonna's frost or the ice of Omega.

"You promised you wouldn't do it," Griffin spoke, dragging him back to the present where it wasn't much better. In fact, the empty look in her eyes was a certain omen of doom that had him cowering in anticipation of her next words. "But you did," she spoke with ease now that his fingers had loosened around her throat and allowed her to carry out the hit with swiftness and precision. There was nothing for him to do that could save him from her words. He couldn't even pull away from the feeling of her skin. He just wanted her all for himself.

"You betrayed me," he tried to retaliate so that he wouldn't fall completely apart but the way the words came out, so disconnected from each other as if they didn't belong together, made it clear that he was failing. She knew all of his weaknesses. He'd allowed her that knowledge in faith that she'd keep them safe. And then she'd left, keeping his secrets but hurting him worse than she would have if she'd used them against him. She'd been the only one who'd seen something good in him. She'd been the only one who'd loved him. If she gave up on him, where did that leave him? What did that make him?

"You made me." It was said as an excuse and not as an accusation, and yet, that somehow hurt worse. "You pushed me away." No emotional attachment. Just a simple fact. "But what else to expect from a monster." The understanding look was what would've killed him if he'd been alive. It was brutal. And vicious. And the worst thing he'd ever witnessed. She'd accepted defeat, accepted that it was his nature that had gotten between them and there'd been nothing else to do.

He stepped back letting go of... it. That wasn't Griffin. It was a fragment of his own mind that was currently poking around and releasing his insecurities inside his heart to destroy him. It was no surprise it'd taken him so long to figure it out since Griffin knew him as well as he knew himself. But what was standing in front of him wasn't her. She'd never been so cruel. She'd never hurt him like that. In fact, what he was currently staring at was the exact opposite of her, for she'd loved him. She'd been the only one who'd ever done that, and he didn't understand what she'd found in him but she'd never given up on him so he was still pulled in by the image of her. Even when he knew the hatred of the thing that looked like her, the hatred of his own mind.

"You chose power over me," she said. It was her. As much of her as he'd ever get now - his own interpretations of how she must have felt thanks to his betrayal. "My love was not enough to warm your dark heart and you pushed me away," she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck once again but this time he only pulled her closer, ignoring the chill settling in his bones as her body sucked all the heat out of him. She was the only warmth he'd ever felt and how had he repaid her? "Do you have any idea how many tears you've made me shed?" she whispered as she touched his face and made him wish to grab her hand and press it harder in his cheek, for he could barely feel her touch ghosting over his skin. But he couldn't take more from her.

The tears started streaming down her face, an impossible amount of water flowing from her eyes like rivers and already forming a puddle at their feet. He had to let go but he couldn't pull away again. He couldn't abandon her a second time. All the misery flooding their home was his fault. He couldn't cause more of it when they were already on their way to drowning, the water coming to his knees.

"I've been drowning in them for years," she hiccuped, her voice quiet as if she couldn't breathe, her lungs heaving, stealing all the breath from him. He'd been so consumed by his own misfortune that he hadn't stopped for a moment to ask himself what he'd done to her with his selfishness. With all his power he hadn't managed to free himself from his prison, and she'd had it worse, for he'd left her with nothing. Not even his love for her to hold on to. "Please, save me from this torment, Valtor."

It hurt to hear his name from her like that – full of despair. He'd been supposed to make her smile and life. He'd been supposed to make her want to sing and help her create memories full of joy. Instead, he'd been trying to torment her and tear her apart. Just like the monster that he was. She'd tried to save him but he'd made her lose all hope in him. If he'd been her, he would've killed him, but she'd been merciful and all he'd rewarded her with had been suffering.

He cupped her cheek and felt her leaning into it. She didn't seem to mind the slight shaking of his hand as his whole body was losing temperature. The tears kept pouring from her eyes, though, the level of the water already reaching his chest, yet, all he cared about was her heart. He needed to fix what he'd broken. He needed to breathe life into her dying form.

He drew her into a kiss, carefully parting her lips to allow his oxygen to fill her lungs. Her fingers sank into his shoulders and pulled him closer, holding him in place since his shaking muscles were getting in the way of the kiss. The cold that had taken over his body was soon replaced by the burning sensation in his lungs as he was suffocating in her mouth but she didn't let go of him. He had to pull away but he couldn't do that. And what did it matter anyway? He was already dead. And that kiss was everything he would ever get from her and that he could give her. He couldn't even give her his life. The kiss was everything that mattered. So he gave into her as the water level keep raising and her tears filled his respiratory system just when he was about to die from suffocation, drowning him in cold and darkness instead that he accepted. It was all he deserved anyway.