The Demon Lord and his Hero (BL)

"The runes are all in place. We have to hurry before the portal stabilises." Syryn's voice was calm and measured. It was as if he hadn't just prepared a sacrificial array for his death.

His companion, Rowan, closed his eyes and acknowledged the tiredness that had been dogging at his heels.

"Ryn, is there no other way?"

Syryn reached out and gently placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. The taller man's eyes opened to reveal brilliant blues that had long been a comfort to Syryn for the past 14 years of his life. Enemies to reluctant friends, Rowan had been the best thing to ever happen to an angry demon lord with nothing but hatred fuelling his life.

"We don't have time. You know this. If we don't do it now, he will appear and I'll die anyway. We'll all die."

Rowan's chest rose and fell as the last spark of hope died in his eyes. His arms enveloped Syryn in a hug that left no air between them.

"Will it hurt you?"

Syryn shook his head and smiled reassuringly. Retreating to the centre of the sacrificial array, he sat down in a meditative pose. He would have to cut his wrists and let the blood flow into an enormous spiral groove that went all the way around the floor of the stone chamber. It was either that or slice his neck but even he wasn't cruel enough to force Rowan to watch that.

"Rowan, I just -" Syryn was interrupted.

"No. Don't make this harder than it already is. No goodbyes."

Rowan was still in denial after all. He was only losing his best friend, the demon lord, that he had captured. His prisoner had been confined inside the Frozen tower for 18 years. And those 18 years was a long enough time for many things to happen. It changed them both in ways that neither had anticipated.

Syryn hadn't wanted Rowan to watch but the man had insisted he would stay beside him when it happened. Rowan would cut an arm off before he left his friend to pass on alone. The man was aware of the consequences that came with the decision but Syryn could not change his mind.

"You don't have to be here Rowan." Syryn tried one last time to dissuade his friend but it was futile. Rowan dug his heels in and sat cross-legged on the cold floor, all but a statue himself. He was bracing himself for the inevitable.

When Syryn opened the skin of his wrist against the cutting edge of the obsidian stone blade, it was Rowan that blanched. He repeated the same with his other wrist and allowed the blood to flow freely into the spiral groove.

"You said it wouldn't hurt you," Rowan accused but there was no bite in his tone. Syryn snorted in response. "You knew exactly what I planned to do Ro. Or did you think this blade was ceremonial?"

Rowan was silent. The moonlight highlighted the gold of his hair and sculpted his handsome face into sharp lines and dark shadows that accentuated his noble features. Rowan exhaled audibly and met Syryn's eyes in despair. His friend was bleeding to death and there was nothing he could do but watch.

Scarlet gleamed from within the spiral groove as Syryn's blood covered the winding path at a steady pace. His heart had begun thumping faster and harder. There was so much red bleeding out but he was at peace. Syryn had taken countless lives and it was only fitting that he sacrificed his own to save as many.

"Can I sit next to you?" Rowan's voice was dull and lifeless.

Head beginning to spin a little, the demon lord growled out an appropriate response for his mulish friend who was torturing himself at the altar that Syryn had chosen to die on.

"You stubborn man, your saviour complex will one day be the death of you."

Rowan's answering smile was the saddest that Syryn had ever seen. "Come then, don't get blood on your uniform." He beckoned with his chin. Rising with a desperateness that brought a lump to Syryn's throat, Rowan reached him in one long stride. He sat with his back to Syryn who leaned against Rowan's warm and solid body.

"Lillith will be very upset," Syryn remarked with a light laugh.

"I don't care," Rowan replied.

"You abandon a world-renowned beauty, your wife no less, for an evil, murdering-" once again, he was interrupted by Rowan.

"You are no longer a demon lord Syryn. At this very moment, you are bleeding to your death in sacrifice for the same people that called for your execution. This is one of the highest act of heroism that I've ever witnessed. Just stop whipping that horse. It's already dead," Rowan replied with a tinge of exasperation. They'd had this conversation before. "And Lillith isn't.." a pause, "she'll be fine."

Syryn had lost about 5 litres of blood. Consequently, his vision was sparking in colours and lights. His head lolled weakly to the side against Rowan's shoulder. And when he closed his eyes and fell, he barely registered the familiar embrace that caught him. Through his dying vision, Syryn saw the array light up and he knew he had done it. He had saved Rowan and the kingdom so beloved by his friend. A small smile tugged imperceptibly at the edge of his lips as his vision swam and Syryn gave into the sweet release of death.

Putting a hand to his friend's chest, Rowan felt the emptiness there. Bereft of a heartbeat, it mirrored the feeling in his own chest. Syryn was gone. The lack of life in Syryn's body was like ashes on Rowan's tongue.

"Farewell Ryn. I will meet you on the other side of the river." Rowan's gaze lingered on Syryn's peaceful visage before he tenderly laid his forehead on the other's.

Rowan held the lifeless body in his embrace one last time before gently laying him down and then marching out to finish what Syryn had started. An ocean of blood in exchange for what Syryn had spilt tonight, Rowan would demand it.