When I first met him, I did not like him at all.  And, in all honesty, I suppose I never could truly forgive him, even if… even if I… do love him with all my being….

          He killed who was to be my husband, a sweet and gentle man who loved all.  I never knew why he carried a sword around but I could forgive that.  My fiancé would never willingly kill a man.  He was so gentle in his soul.

          But… that man.  He never minded killing others, too caught up in the righteousness of it all, as he always was, shedding blood and heaping it with more blood for the sake of his precious revolution.  I still cannot understand it.

          Then I met him in that small little restaurant in a town that was just recently being torn from its peace.  He had shattered that tranquil peace.  We sat back to back, him and I, ordering whatever we wished.  I smiled with praise at the restaurant; they were always so kind and generous, never allowing a customer to go unsatisfied and today would be no other.  But… those brutes, men that remind me strongly of him, wanted to shatter that peace, bringing it upon themselves to find one to punish.  I would have gladly taken that punishment but he could never allow them to do such things.  In a way, I am glad that he would protect another but he swore violence.  Nothing is solved in such a horrible manner.

          Then, one night, walking alone as I do, just breathing in the serenity of the night, I saw him in all his fury and rage, though no anger smoldered within him.  He was just a killing machine without pause and I could see right through his transparent shield.  Captivated in with the speed and haste that he could just lay down a man's life, the cold knowledge that it was he and no other who must have killed my fiancé, I watched the scene of disgust.  But… it was too horrible, too revolting, too abhorrent and so I felt myself grow dizzy.  The nauseating stench of blood rose into the air along with the cries of the innocent and not so innocent and I cried along with them.  By the time he noticed me, the three men who had opposed him lay dead, red staining the precious earth.  He turned, those luminous orbs training on me, shame shining within their depths, and we spoke, I saying to him what needed to be said, he listening.

          Covered in the blood of his victims, I fainted, perhaps falling into his arms.  That I do not know, though I was told he took me home.

Life is precious…