Loyalty

A/N: For Mini Nephthys. I'm sorry this is so short, but if I made it longer I feel it would seem drawn out.

He didn't care that he might die. He didn't care if anyone else did, either; he didn't care, as long as his master was satisfied.

It was only natural he was so attached to him. When he'd felt his life falling apart in front of him, when he was about to lose all he cared for, that single, guiding hand chose to reach out to him; to comfort him, to protect him, to give his life meaning. Soft words and softer touches healed a dying heart, and while madness began to otherwise consume his sanity and the rest of the world, that feeling kept his soul truly alive. Even now, he felt it, tying him to reality, keeping him aware as he raised his blade with anticipation singing through his cursed veins.

His armor was heavier this day, it seemed, his breathing faster. His heart beat too furiously. Why? This familiar feeling... dread? In an instant, the fight began; blessed swords clashed, desperate screams of steel echoing through the tower as the furious fight continued. Golden metal pierced his battered armor without warning, and he felt the bitter taste of his blood against his tongue as the blade met his vulnerable flesh.

But that didn't matter, it didn't matter at all. He had to keep going, he had to know if he was the best, if his swordsmanship was truly what he wished it to be. Yet even if he lost, here and now...

It didn't matter.

His life had meaning. It had meant something to the prime minister, and even if the rest of the world condemned his existence, realized and reviled his half-breed nature, he would never care as long as Sephiran was there... and he always would be.

This was it? Yes... the holy blade cut through him again, but too much... too much blood, so hot against his skin... He fell back against the wall, throwing off his helm with what little of his fading strength was left. The cool stone against his head eased the pain, and a smile came to his face. His death was honorable. He'd done what he had always dreamed.

So many memories came back... all in a comforting, dark haze that welcomed him with open arms. Years ago, his crushing despair, his suffocating anxiety had been erased. Sephiran... Sephiran, he was the bane of all that was unkind, Zelgius was sure. His voice... His very voice could soothe away the most savage rage, his eyes could quell the most unending sorrow. His touch was so comforting... his lips, so warm and soft... He had done everything he could for him, anything the man had asked, and never regretted a single drop of blood he'd spilled in the Chancellor's name.

As his mind faded ever further, he saw nothing but the promise of eternal bliss in Sephiran's arms. He would wait, forever if need be.

He simply smiled as heaven took his soul.

(end)