Alrighty, I was trying to do something with this, though I'm not entirely sure what, but whateves. Enjoy...please?

Warnings: Um...character death.

I doooooo not own Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt series, Hunter's Blades, Sellsword, oooor Transitions, or any of the characters. LoD and co. belong to the brilliantly awesome R.A. Salvatore.

Note: You'll notice that Entreri is not in possession of Charon's Claw, this is because this particular drabble takes place before Servant of the Shard (although I have not determined an exact time).

Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, I would love to hear what I could improve on (such as my choppy writing style), what you enjoyed, didn't enjoy, etc.


There was a gap in his defense; a scimitar slightly to the left of where it should have been. It was subtle and barely noticeable, but to a man of Entreri's skill, it was enough.

Reacting purely on instinct, Entreri brought his sword across, smacking Icingdeath to the right. He used the action to cover up his left hand and Drizzt was so focussed on the battle that he failed to notice the hole in his defense until it was too late. The drow could not get Twinkle up in time to block as Entreri thrust his dagger between the scimitars and plunged it home – right into Drizzt's chest.

There was a brief moment of shocked silence before Drizzt let out a strangled gasp and viciously jerked away, disengaging his weapons from Entreri's sword. The drow's eyes were wide with disbelief, and with what Entreri thought might have been...fear? He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as Drizzt threw himself back into the battle, slashing violently. The assassin barely managed to parry against the blows as scimitars rained down hard against his remaining weapon, and had a great deal of difficulty keeping his feet beneath him. Drizzt was very quickly tiring, the front of his tunic covered with his own blood. Both of them knew that the drow would not live for much longer, but Entreri wasn't sure if he could hold out long enough to survive until then.

Icingdeath suddenly arced to the left, blocking the swing of the human's sword and causing Entreri to shift to the right, the move bringing him right into the path of the drow's other scimitar. Unable to use his blade to defend himself, the assassin risked exposing himself and rolled backwards, out of the path of the scimitar. He quickly sprung to his feet and held his blade to bear, fully expecting the drow to press the attack, but to his surprise, Drizzt stayed where he was.

The battle was over.

Only the sound of Drizzt's ragged breaths filled the room, and Entreri felt a sudden sense of glee. Finally, after losing battle after battle to the renegade, he had defeated him. He had defeated Drizzt Do'Urden.

Drizzt's scimitars clattered loudly to the ground. With the battle frenzy worn off, his shaking arms no longer had the strength to hold them. He clawed almost desperately at the jewelled hilt protruding from his chest as he slowly sank to his knees. Entreri took the moment to sheath his blade and approached his rival, a smirk playing across his thin lips.

The drow wheezed slightly as Entreri crouched down beside him, leaning forward to whisper into a pointed ear. "How does it feel, elf?" he asked, "to die knowing that your principles cannot save you, will not save you; to know that your discipline and your morality has made you weak and vulnerable." He laughed then and moved to look him in the eye, but Drizzt did not flinch. "And such a pity it is that these friends you speak so highly of are not even here to watch you die. It's high time you realized that you walk alone, Drizzt, and you'll die alone."

Entreri was caught entirely off guard when Drizzt began to laugh. It was a ragged, grating sort of laugh that only someone dying could possibly muster, but it was a laugh nonetheless, and somehow, instead of feeling angry about it, Entreri felt deeply humiliated. None of his victims had ever been bold enough to laugh in his face, and because it was Drizzt, his greatest rival, it seemed all the worse.

The drow turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood before turning his attention back to the assassin, meeting his eyes in that stare the Entreri so desperately despised. "You are a fool." He managed to hold his voice steady, but he could barely find the breath to speak the words. He was dying, and fast.

"You think that...just because you have defeated me in battle that your way of life...a life of loneliness and despair, is superior to mine? Is such a life even worth living? If that is so, then I pity you...while...I die here, I will die content for my friends are always with me... here, in my heart-" He coughed more blood onto the floor and gasped deeply, struggling to catch the last of his breath, to say what he needed to say. "And you, my very misguided friend, will continue to live your life of solitude. So...alone I may be in the physical sense of the word, but what of you...? So ask yourself, Artemis Entreri, who is really the victor today?"

Drizzt managed what he could of a genuine smile, but he could not hold it through the pain. Entreri felt the anger boil up inside of him. Even with his dying words the damned drow was still picking apart his discipline, revealing to him the possibility that maybe his entire way of life had been a lie. He wanted nothing more than to grasp the jewel encrusted hilt of his dagger and draw on its life stealing power to tear the drow's soul apart as a final act of defiance against his god damned self-righteousness, but he did not.

He watched, silently, as Drizzt sagged to his side, still clutching the dagger in his black, slender hands. His lavender eyes holding Entreri's with their gaze, refusing to let go even as his breath grew shallower and shallow, until finally his chest remained still.

Entreri sat there for a while longer, contemplating the drow's final words. They shouldn't have mattered to him, after all, Drizzt was dead and he was still here, breathing and very much alive...but they did and profoundly. Indeed, what was life without love, without trust or friendship? Could this life empty life of his really be considered living?

"So ask yourself, Artemis Entreri, who is really the victor today?"

Entreri let out a low growl and violently pulled the dagger from Drizzt's chest, releasing a small spurt of blood as he did so. "I am," he spat at the corpse.

He swiftly got to his feet and turned to leave, as he began to walk, however, his steps faltered slightly and he stopped, looking over his shoulder at where Drizzt lay. Those lavender eyes were still staring at him, dissecting his soul and questioning everything that he believed in. A small laugh escaped his lips. "You may die content, Drizzt Do'Urden, but you are still dead."

He walked away then and did not look back. He no longer felt the anger that bore down upon him as a perpetual dark presence, but nor did he feel the triumph that he imagined he would feel after his long awaited victory. Instead, Artemis Entreri walked away feeling empty and very much defeated.