A/N: Hello.

Some things, life, existence, pain. These are universal, no one can escape them. Some however are destined from the moment they first draw breath to endure more pain than any human being should. Eyes burning with hate only really hide the pain until someone asks the right question… and sometimes the person is the one human being you never expected.

The rubble of the Lunatic was all around. Crushed crystal, shattered walkways, twisted stone. The weapon of the mad sorceress lay all around. A young woman, not even two months past childhood. The innocence banished by war. She shuddered with each breath. She had to fight to breath, just shallow breaths to avoid the stabbing pains that wracked her.

"We…. we had a good… a good run… yeah?" the knight asked. He smiled, teeth red as he sucked in tiny gurgling breaths. His white coat stained red, his pale cheeks reddened as blood dripped from his ear, from his nose. His hand trembled slightly, it took a fantastic effort to lift it just a few inches before letting it fall again. He coughed, blood flying out and coating her face in a fine aerosol. He smiled again, even as he hyperventilated through the pain he kept a rictus smile on his face. His blue eyes bloodshot even as his skin went to paper white. His blade lay behind her on the ground, tarnished with dust. He slid his arm until he was just able to touch her leg. She opened her eye again and looked down at him with unshed tears blurring her vision.

"No regrets… Remember… we prom… promised…" he said haltingly, trying to swallow the blood and having trouble. Her tears started to fall, she would live with the pain of her quiet sobs as they pulled at her wounds.

"Won't die…" was all she could say, her eye open even as the tears rolled down her cheek. Her voice was barely a whisper, her throat tighter than her fist had ever been. All the force had fled her voice. His smile faltered, it became warm, honest.

"I'm done for." he said softly, for soft is all he could manage. The dam broke and her sobbing grew louder. He fought his failing body to touch her again.

"One… one more thing…." he says touching her with his fingers. She quickly wiped her face on her shoulder, trying not to move her arms and the knight with them. She leaned down.

"Anything." she whispered, he may not even have heard her, but his eyes followed her lips through the soft fog clouding out his thoughts, the warmth pushing back the pain.

"Tell…. Tell them…. All." he started, holding his eyes open and gasping little breaths swallowing again.

"I-I'm so.." he started, his eyes brimming with tears now too.

"So sorry… for it all… do… do what I should have been… carry my spirit…" he started then he faded his breathing stopped a moment and then he took a big gasp, meeting her eyes again.

"Please, make it… for us… both." he forced out, each word a battle fought against his broken body, and his fading life. She felt she was shaking, her hands and legs trembling at the horrible stillness in the knight. His eyes staring into the offensively bright blue sky. She watched it go. The spark left him the battle lost, like so many others. The tears didn't stop. Her eye ached for the tears, her wounds screamed for the wracking sobs. She cried until there was nothing wet left in her. She pulled up his body, held it to her, gently rocking,

"No... no. no no. I promise." she whispered hoarsely. She held his shell close for she didn't know how long. Long after the warmth of it had faded and the light with it. The darkness spread slowly, like an old friend intruding where it knows it is needed, but not wanted. In the fading light she lay his vessel down again, and stood up, her muscles screaming at her as she took stones and made for him a cairn where he lay. It was all she could do, lacking the strength for more.

In the darkness though, she caught a glimpse of something.

Hyperion, his gunblade. She knelt and lifted it, holding it by the handle for the first time. It was lighter than she'd imagined. But long. Almost unwieldy. Her grip on it was white-knuckle.

It wasn't a weapon anymore. It was a dream.

She turned her back on the sunset. Her eye turned west. When everything had collapsed, when the fairy tale had turned to blood, then blood to tears, she still had one thing.

Purpose.

Duty.

A Promise.

A/N: 10 years ago Today I posted the last chapter of this story that has seen the light of day. I want to do a rewrite. Consider this a declaration of Intent.