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Thomas stared into Terry's eyes, his eyes wide with fear.
"You don't have to...", he heaved, "you don't have to do this."
A single tear fell from Terry's eye, and he looked away, though his hold on the sword was steady, "Yes, I must. You understand why..." A sob tore through the air, Thomas' shoulders shook violently. The other couldn't bring himself to look at Thomas, not when he had won.
Now Terry had to end it, end his life, and for what. To win a silly battle that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things? To say that he had emerged victorious in a battle, the loser someone he cared about? Was this for glory? For pride? What was this all for?
As Terry tangled himself farther into his thoughts, Thomas had managed to get himself to a calmer state. His voice interrupted Terry's thoughts, "If you must, then do it swiftly, I cannot bear another second to stare at the face of someone who betray me for power."
Terry's eyes widen, mouth slightly agape. Thomas' eyes burned into Terry's very soul, tears threatening to fall.
Despite Thomas' steeled expression, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear. After years together, he's never know Terry to be someone who hesitates often. Bullheaded and reckless, Terry prefers instant action rather than careful consideration. Seeing Terry now hesitating, causes Thomas to feel anxious.
But no matter how anxious Thomas felt, he realized this was his only chance. Hesitation is an opening, a sign of weakness, and Thomas took advantage of it by quickly grabbing his abandoned battle axe next to him and striking Terry's pointed sword away.
The strike echoes along the walls, Terry stumbles backwards, and Thomas scrambles to get to his feet.
Thomas falls into a battle stance quickly, pointing his axe towards Terry. Terry recovers from the attack, and hops ten paces away from his attacker.
Thomas watches with a bated breath as Terry regains his composure. His gaze sharp and cutting, Thomas analyzes the other carefully. Thomas now knows that Terry would hesitate to kill him (he is unsure whether to feel happy or insulted) and Thomas also knew that Terry is slower in his advances. Only one could leave alive, it's just a matter of who is stronger than the other.
And Thomas knows that Terry is weaker at the moment.
With all the confidence he could muster, pushing down that incessant urge to drop his weapon and call this fight off, Thomas rushed to Terry, who was ready to parry his axe with his sword.
The steel in their weapons clashed angrily, Thomas' axe scraping against the metal of Terry's sword harshly. Using the momentum in his axe, Thomas spun on his heel, swinging his axe again at Terry. Terry had not yet recovered from the force of Thomas' attack, his reflexes slower than usual. But Terry narrowly dodged by crouched underneath the swing.
Terry then punched at Thomas' stomach, making him stumble backwards. Terry rose from his crouched position, trying to move away from Thomas again, but Thomas threw his axe at Terry. Terry rolled to the side, shifted his balance, and lunged at Thomas.
Terry sliced through the air, aiming for Thomas' torso, but Thomas reacted quickly by grabbing Terry's wrist and redirecting his movement, pushing him into the floor.
Thomas pushed his knee to Terry's lower back, squeezed his wrist to force his hand to let go of his sword, and shoved the side Terry's face into the dirt ground. They both heaved, a moment of stillness hung over the air.
Thomas reached for Terrys sword, ready to end this all. This pointless fight, this meaningless pain, this tug-of-war for power. Neither knew why this fight started, but they both knew only one would win this fight.
Thomas stood above his partner, sword in hand, sadness laced his features. With Terry flat on the ground, he felt safe to wear his emotions on his face. Thomas, heads steady and heart heavy, held the sword against Terry's neck.
"Do you have any last words?" Thomas spoke gently, barely above a whisper. But Terry heard him.
Terry's eyes burned with tears, his voice cracked, but his words no less impactful.
"I'm sorry, Thomas."
Thomas blinked away his tears, a sob threatened to tear its way through his throat but his grip on the sword didn't waver. He swallowed his regrets, and spoke slowly.
"I'm sorry too."
Thomas cut deeply with a single swing, Terry neck bled onto the dirt, dyeing it a dark crimson color. Thomas backed away, dropping the sword and falling to his knees.
With his head in his hands, we cried loudly. His throat burned from his wails. Time seemed to slow, the world determined to never let him forget. The picture of his dead companion would never leave his mind even in death.
Thomas wallowed his sorrow for hours, until his eyes ran out of tears and his throat constricted. He sat there silent let and empty, knowing he'd never forget, and always regret.
"You will regret
That you made me cry,
That you didn't see the love in my eye,
That you failed my heart and didn't even try." - "You Will Regret" by Shahinaz Soliman