Epilogue: Gotta Fight Another Fight

So you think that you can take me on?
You must be crazy
There ain't a single thing you've done
That's gonna faze me
Oh but if you want to have a go
I just want to let you know

Get off of my back
And into my game
Get out of my way
And out of my brain
Get out of my face
Or give it your best shot
I think it's time you better face the facts
Get off of my back

The two met on the battlefield for the umpteenth time in so many years, arch foes, surrounded by chaos but only desirous of one thing. To be one, victorious over the other. Both great leaders, they faced each other upon magnificent steeds, calm and dignified, with weapons sheathed. The afternoon sun shone down on them like a heavenly spotlight, highlighting the immaculate appearance of two such creatures of legend. It was their prerogative as the monarchy, after all.

Saeryth sat astride King, the fearsome gray, fingers toying idly with the stallion's mane as he smiled into the eyes of his opponent. His chest plate shone, pristine in the light and fearsome to behold in shades of gold and red. The sword strapped to his back had been similarly treated, cleaned to a flawless luster and sharpened to the point where the outermost edge of the blade was invisible to the naked eye. He took a deep breath of battle weary air and expelled it with great fervor, delighting in the atmosphere of disorder and the sensations of the pending fight. The one in which the outcome was not predetermined.

Doyle sat demurely across from Saeryth on his own horse, that he'd recently endeavored to name Savior. To remind him of Cordelia. In comparison to the General of the human army, Doyle appeared calm, relaxed for once, ready to face what may come. It was the best anyone could ask him to do, and he accepted it. Perhaps he would always be overly empathetic to the plight of others; perhaps he would be tortured by that fact for the rest of his military career. But at least, he was no longer despondent. At least now, he had the knowledge that whatever happened, he would do his best.

"General Doyle. Lovely day to die, isn't it?" Saeryth inquired cheerily, glancing up and squinting into the brightness with which the noonday sun shone down on the combatants.

Doyle laughed, genuinely, at his nemesis's colloquial manner, truly amused by his character rather than annoyed. "Good a day as any I suppose, Saer," he responded evenly.

Saeryth noted the change in demeanor and sat back, with hands impertinently folded across his knee, making a show of studying his long time rival. "And what pray tell has you so cheerful today, Doyle? I hardly recognize you without your customary self-flagellating scowl."

Doyle chortled. "Nothin' Saer. I just never thought 'bout how silly you are when you make small talk right before we're supposed to be cleavin' the heads offa one another 'til just now. Kind of amusin'."

"Well then, my purpose in life has been served, General Doyle," Saeryth commented jocularly, bowing his head in mock supplication though the cheeky smirk stayed firmly ensconced on his handsome face.

Doyle drew his sword with something almost like vigor and saluted his opponent. "So Saer, we gonna fight, or what?"

"Oh, Most certainly."

Both horses charged forward.

So you think that you can take me on?
You must be crazy
There ain't a single thing you've done
That's gonna faze me
Oh but if you want to have a go
I just want to let you know

Get off of my back
And into my game
Get out of my way
And out of my brain
Get out of my face
Or give it your best shot
I think it's time you better face the facts
Get off of my back

END