The dark was all he ever knew. The dark, the cold, the emptiness, no light or heat ever penetrated his barrier. He would never wish for anything else but power. Power to him was life, nothing more nothing less. Only his thoughts could drive him, he only had his own ideals to drive him on after all. He needed no warmth or emotion; he wouldn't be accustomed to such commodities.
Why should he care?
It never mattered anyway; nothing could ever break his thirst for power.
Or so he thought.
Surely, if any one thing could bring up any long forgotten emotions, it would have been him.
Oh, the heat, and the warmth. Laced in his lovers words were the promises of forgotten generations. Every action sparked warmth; he no longer was fueled by hunger. No energy came from power, no want nor thirst for his absolute dream.
He wanted warmth, how he ached for it with every fiber of his being! He needed it, the passion and the warmth that only one could give, oh how cursed was his world, to be doomed between his wants and passions.
He only showed his need for power on the outside, he wanted the darkness to empty his passion. His only true wish was to be free.
But all it took was one glance into the fiery blue eyes and he would thirst for more. The cold to be shoved aside, the power abandoned, forgotten on the road side. In those moments, he was truly happy, his thirst was quenched and his heartache was warmed. He didn't crave for precious few hours as they talked. The warm teasings flying though the air, the embrace here the cuddle there. No longer did his want for power plague him so.
Oh how the sweet taste of love left its impression into his very being! He no longer craved power, he craved love and warmth! Only one person could give such to him, the power was meaningless with someone to be with. Why he felt this way, only he knew, but as his wants and needs became more, he no longer cared.
He had his own desires.
What a poor creature. To never know love, nor taste the excruciating bitterness of emotion. Only power and the promise of more drove him. Was that his original attraction?
How beautiful he was, when he needed more. The hunger in his eyes, begging for more. He wanted more, and always it never failed, that his one true love of power came up short.
Going to him on that cold, dreary night. Lighting all he could see on fire, every last thing was turned into ash by a brilliant blue flame.
"Cold?" he flashed a grin
He received a look like none he had ever seen in the eyes of a person. Anger, malice, desperation and above all, hunger.
A hunger for witch nothing would ever satisfy, nothing could fill and nothing could erase. But by god, he could try. He always did like a challenge.
Heat and flame fueled passion and cold and darkness kept it in check. Nothing was perfect, but why should they care?
His own needs were soon filled and his own heat was cooled down. No longer was he a burning rage, but more of a simmer, one that could erupt at any time. A time bomb ready and willing to go off at any moment.
Only one person could cool him down while everyone else ran scared.
And that just how he liked it.
No longer was hated or hunger dominant in the lives of the two treacherous souls. Nothing was truly needed, nothing but the other. Why would demand be met with fear or reluctance? Willing to give everything they went on.
No pain was ever felt, no anger was pushed forth. No need of tears or comfort was ever shown.
Only the cold and the dark, intermingling, keeping the other in check, forever and for always.
Always, and always.