Love and hate. In Scar's experience, they were synonymous. When he was younger, he justified this with the claim that love was meaningless without hate, and vice versa; now they simply came as a package deal. Because he knew he should hate him, and a part of him did. But at the same time, he couldn't stop loving him.

The one who'd left him in a heartbeat for someone better, the one who never really wanted to be strung together in the first place, by fate's thin threads attaching one life to another. The one who didn't even seem to care about how Scar made him feel, still playing his game of chess with Scar as just a pawn.

Still, the love had thrived within his heart until the very last second of existence. He had tried, so hard to hate him but at the end of the day, would've still given everything for just one more day.

Hell, he couldn't even hate BigB. Not even after Grian sat by his grave while the rest of the server viciously fought their war. Hate had never been something he'd felt towards any of them, but still, his heart shattered the day he'd rode up towards the two.

All he felt now, was broken. Too numb to cry, too hollow to care about the cold. The biting cold so reminiscent of when his heart still beat, and of snow surrounding them. Days before the pain set in, and he realised that nobody remained by his side by choice. And that was fine, really. Of course he was fine with it, what other option did he have? What was he expecting really, lifetime devotion? Loyalty?

He couldn't ask that much of anyone, least of all Grian. Grian who'd already given so much for him.

Still, it would've been nice to have a semblance of loyalty.

But the concept of niceness, or kindness, went out the window the second Joel and Etho turned red. In fact, the second the games started. In kill or be killed situations, niceties weren't relevant. Instead, it was building up arms, protecting forts, trying to stay alive.

But really, Scar had never been good at the last part. The only reason they'd lasted so long was because of Grian, so really, the second he started moving away from their relationship, the two of them were doomed. Soulbonds gone wrong, like Pearl and Scott, like Cleo and Martyn, like Ren and BigB. Now he supposed him and Grian would join that list.

For he was just a pawn, and Grian the king. Or maybe the king himself was just a pawn of those playing a higher game; a puppet convinced he was the puppeteerer. Dancing along to their merry little tune, all with the illusion of control threading the players into place. But one day, the illusion would have to break, and the reality would seep through. Maybe it already was, and they were just too blind to see it.

But how bright until the veil was lifted?

Or rather, how dark their vision.

However at the end of the day, the pawns still played the game, the puppets still danced to their merry little tune. Whether they were aware of it or not, maybe it didn't matter. What was the point in being aware of control when either way, there was none over themselves. The juke box still kept playing, and whether they wanted to or not, the show carried on. Entertainment, perhaps. Amusement.

That's what it all came down to, in the end. Friendships built and torn apart like boats in a tremulous storm, all to the beat of whatever beings above wanted to see.

No matter the philosophy behind it, Scar still was alone. Alone, in the cold, dark depths of hell.