A/N: I just recently got obsessed with this pairing, and thus this was born.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owners.

Leaves wilted and curled into themselves before they broke off and disintegrated, their dead ashes drifting away on the wind. The trees lost their bright brown color, growing darker and more ominous as the black miasma spread with each step he took. Birds flying overhead dropped to the ground with all the grace of a dead fish, littering the landscape with their corpses.

He stopped and stared at what he did.

Death was the only way to describe it. There was no need to mince words when it was so obvious.

"Oh, look!" He tensed and clung to his deadly magic; of all things, he didn't want to kill a person.

So he was surprised when a beautiful pink flora was shoved in front of his face, bright in color, but most of allalive.

"Isn't it pretty?" The girl who asked was wearing a vibrant smile of her own, waiting patiently for his answer.

Taking a slight step back (more for her protection than his), he quietly replied, "Yes, it is."

Her smile widened and she reached out for his hand, intending to give him the flower, but he pulled away. She stared, calculating and analytic, but still warm with naive kindness. Kneeling she let the flower roll onto the ground until it stopped before his feet and grinned.

"Look, it wants you to pick it up."

He blinked. She wasn't serious, was she?

Sensing his hesitation, she attempted to subtly push it to him with her finger, imploring him to reach for it. Her gaze urged him to do as she wished.

His eyebrows pulled together, and looked back and forth from the girl's encouraging nods and the plant lying at his feet. Letting out a breath, he crouched down, making sure to concentrate on reigning in his magic, and let his fingers ghost over the stem.

He didn't want to disappoint the first to have such unwavering faith in him.

With that notion in mind he shut his eyes and let his fingers curl around the stem, lifting it from the ground. Instead of the all too familiar feeling of ashes piling up in his palm, the smooth petals brushed against his skin. Peeking his eyes open, he stared at the perfectly unharmed flower.

"You did it."

She was smiling at him, brighter and happier and satisfied. She pushed herself off her knees, standing taller than he was crouching, and patted his head proudly.

"Good job."

He twirled the flower between his thumb and forefinger, noticing how her movements weren't stiff, weren't scared. How her arm didn't already deteriorate under the effects of his magic.

"Its an illusion," was all he said, and he looked up at the child who seemed to never stop smiling at him.

"It is."

"Why?" Did you do this, did you come here?

She threw her hands out to her sides, a lively motion amongst the dead backdrop. "You can kill anything with one drop of your magic, you were alone, you were - are - death walking on two feet."

She looked at him straight in the eyes, serious and surprisingly honest. "But even you can't kill those who have a strong heart and unbreakable will."

"And you possess both?" He stood, meeting her gaze head on.

"No," she answered honestly, shaking her head, "not anymore."

She grinned at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"I gave it to you."