For many years, Filia, Lord General under Queen Luna of Ceiphed, the dragon nation, was the sole barrier between peace and invasion of the by Lina Inverse, known the world over as the Dragon Slayer and her army, led by Xelloss, the Trickster.
From their first battle onward, Filia and Xelloss clashed time and time again, sometimes as Allies against the Serpent Nation and it's Mistress, Nahga, sometimes as mortal enemies, their battles, fought under an unwritten code of honor, more often then not ended in a stalemate, without a clear cut victory for either.
But finally, in the year fifty eight seven, during the rise of the fourth moon, Amelia, child of Philip of Seyrun and his wife, was born. Upon her hand, she bore the Mark of K'thad, signifying that she was the one to bring down Lina Inverse and restore the balance of peace.
Desperate to destroy the child before she became a threat, Lina ordered Xelloss to invade Ceiphed and kill Amelia. Xelloss complied, overrunning the land by sheer force of numbers and slaughtering all he came across.
But, at the gates of the Palace, Filia met him for what was to be their final battle.
In latter days, the bards would sing of that battle, of how swords rang and dragonfire was belched forth, of the screams of dying men, and how the cobblestones turned red with blood.
In the end, Filia fell, her heart pierced by Xelloss' sword, and there she lay on the battlefield, leaving only Xelloss...
Xelloss looked around the ruin of what had once been Ceiphed. He had failed, he knew this. Syphiel, Zelgadis, and Gabriev, the ones chosen to gaurd and protect Amelia had already fled with her to parts unknown. It didn't matter, he'd just have to finish the job when they came back.
"Xelloss..." came the quiet voice. Turning, he saw that his fallen foe's eyes were open.
"Yes, m'lady?" he asked, crouching beside her.
"I would ask a favor, no, two favors from you. Twice I saved your life during the Battle with Nahga at Sairagg. I know you to be an honorable man and so I ask this knowing you will fulfill them."
"You have my pledge that I will do so," Xelloss replied.
"Good," Filia said and her fingers closed around the large bejeweled clasp that kept her cape around her neck. Closing her eyes, she willed the magic in the gem to activate, and then her entire body shimmered, her Blond hair turning to black, and her skin darkening in tone. "My name is Amy, Amy Kilmer. I'm really from Earth."
"Earth," Xelloss repeated, his fight to keep his sudden whirl of emotions not showing on his face or in his voice.
"Yes, we have met there before, so I know you know it. I have a husband there. His name is David. We live in a place called Phoenix. I would ask you to go to him and tell him what happened to me, and that I love him."
"Of course, and the second?"
"Never harm him, or allow him to come to harm. I will not have him suffer for what I have done."
"Consider it done, and I would ask a favor from you."
"From me?" she asked, arching one smooth eyebrow.
"Yes," he replied as he sat cross-legged on the ground. "No one should die alone. Would you permit me to sit with you?"
"I cannot stop you," she said quietly. "But I welcome the company."
It was some time later that Amy, now covered with her own cape and her head pillowed on Xelloss' folded cape, spoke:
"Do you have anyone?"
"Anyone?" he repeated, obviously startled by the question.
"A lover," Filia pressed, "a wife."
"I used to," he replied. "She's...leaving soon, and I'm too much of a coward to tell her the truth about myself."
"I see," Filia said quietly. "Thank you." With that, she closed her eyes and her breathing slowed, until finally, it stopped.
"Sleep well," Xelloss whispered as he stood. "I will never forget." With that, he flickered and vanished.
The room was dark when Xelloss materialized in the adobe ranchouse Amy Kilmer shared with her husband. Though his powers could have made it possible with a gesture, Xelloss chose instead to make his way across the room and turn on the lights by hand. For a moment, he took in the handmade southwestern furniture before he raised his eyes to the mantle. In the center of it, was a photo. In it, Amy and her husband, she in a white gown, he in a tuxedo, smiled at the camera. David was a pleasant faced man, his skin bore the pale tone of one who tans in the light of a computer screen rather then the sun.
With trembling hands, the Trickster lifted the photo in its wooden frame off the hand and stared at it for a long moment. Then, the tears came and he sank to the floor his skin paling and his face subtly changing it's key features.
And there, on the floor of their living room, David Kilmer grieved for the loss of half his soul and the unforgivable sin he had committed.