#Azir is a dad let us not forget

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Azir the Soft

Like I mentioned in the past, wee bby Azir was TERRIFIED of Nasus and Renekton.

Wouldn’t you?

Imagine being a smol bean of 5, a rotund bundle of squishable cheeks, big goo goo eyes, tiny hands, long pristine dreadlocks and a way too heavy gold hairband, and coming across a giant hound and a giant alligator trying to shake your hand.

Azir would curl up into a small ball of sobs and try to blend into the wall hoping they’d not catch him. Nasus and Renekton, being both childless, would awkwardly try to coax him into coming out of that ball. After all mama and dad are nowhere to be found – emperors have better things to do than parent their kids, and so do boomers – and the young prince must learn at once.

“Oh don’t cry, sweetie.”

“Yeah, don’t cry! Give me a smile! Like THIS!”

“Renekton you made it worse!”

“I just smiled, for Shurima’s sake”

“Yes, but with fangs… oh, forget it. Come here, little prince. It’s ok… see? It’s warm.”

“Aww, what an adorable little thing. C’mere!”

“Renekton STOP!”

As an adult, Azir never had this problem. He long considered which form he’d take as an Ascended. Maybe a dog like Nasus… but that would make him less unique. A snake perhaps, snakes are cool… but they’re also kinda sorta seen as negative animals. A cat? Azir loves cats – who doesn’t? – and cats are refined and proud like emperors… but they have a connotation with laziness that wouldn’t fit a ruler. A goat? They’re spiritual animals, indicative of wisdom… but they’re also helpless prey, and an Emperor should be a predator. What about… a bird of prey? Yes, a hawk would do. Majestic, fierce, always on top of the world. I feel like a hawk.

So, being a hawk, Azir travels Shurima with his retinue and tries things he’s never tried before. Perhaps unique for an imperial tour, he visits slums and abandoned neighborhoods and small villages. People still bow to him, because that’s what they know, and since he’s grown to hate the gesture as a whole, seeing it as hollow and lacking in honesty – thanks to one Xerath of Saikhal, who forced him to bow a lot during his imprisonment – he’s pondering the introduction of a new formula when he notices someone isn’t bowing to him.

A child, that is. A small thing of 5 with dreadlocks and a hairband, who curls up in a ball of tears as their parents pretty much implore them to bow like the others.

Azir thinks about it. Then he speaks: “Akshan, be a dear and bring this one to me.”

“My lord, your Imperial majesty… please! They’re just a kid, they don’t know…” their parents’ plea on their knees as the mercenary hauls the tiny one to Azir. Luckily Nasus isn’t with him on this one: he’s protecting the imperial coach with an escort of sand soldiers.

Akshan lifts the kid towards Azir, and he removes his half-helm to look at them closer.

“Are you afraid of me?”

A tiny “yes” emerges from the ball of sobs. Indeed… a giant hawk can be just as scary as a giant reptile. Azir sits down, offering an open hand… imitating Nasus’ own movements with him. And eventually tiny, shiny eyes look at him through soft fingers.

“You’re… a big bird.”

“I’m a hawk, and I’m not going to hurt you. I may look big, and scary… but that’s because I’m to protect you. Deep down… I can be sweet. Do you want to touch my feathers?”

“C-Can I?”

Right above his chestplate is his neck, a soft space of feathers awaits small grabby hands. The child snuggles in between them, tiny sobs fading into a content smile, and even their parents’ screams have subsided. Hugging an Emperor is a honor a few people see.

“So soft…”

“Yes, it’s soft.” Despite all of Xerath’s lovely attempts to ruin it. “And it’s warm, and… I hope it brings you good luck.”

He doesn’t really know why he did this. A part of him thinks he just wanted to hug a child, after having wept all his tears for his dear son and daughter, and feel like a parent for a moment. Maybe – and this is Xerath’s voice – he wants so desperately to feel good again, he resorts to platitudes and big moves to restore his reputation. Maybe he’s grown soft inside as well as out – too soft, in fact.

Either way it feels good, and isn’t it also what an Emperor should strive for? Feeling good?

“Emperor Azir the Soft” Samira chuckles to Sivir. “Imagine that being his title.”

“He’s been called worse names”, she chuckles back.

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Azir the Exile: First Night

Nasus’ mansion is separated from the city, isolated enough for him to study in peace. He often commutes to care for the Emperor’s children, but he’d rather not do it anywhere, lest he sees all the palace collectively forget Azir every existed.

He has a guests’ room, usually for Renekton, but tonight it’ll be all Azir’s. The child snores softly underneath his cloak: he wept himself to sleep, and he’ll probably shed even more tears as he comes to terms with his exile.

Sometimes he just wishes he could run away from Shurima entirely and take Azir with him, to heal from the mockery, the caning and the indifference he received.

He stops the horses in the shade and takes the child in his arms, rocking him softly.

Maybe he’s gone too over his head, he thinks. He loves Azir, but being a mentor and being a dad are two completely different things. Is Azir’s healing in there, somewhere?

-N-Nasus…- Azir shudders in his arms, rubbing humid eyes. -Are we… there?-

-Yes, little bird. This is my mansion. Do you want me to put you to bed?- he wishes Azir said no, it’s not even nighttime. But the child stirs. -Yes, I prithee. I want to sleep. This is just a bad dream…-

Nasus pulls him tighter. It’s not a bad dream, you poor kid. You truly did lose all you ever had… except me.

And he’ll love him even more so.

As requested, Azir gets some food: but no cheese pita, because there’s no room in his stomach for it. Nasus makes him a bowl of milky porridge instead, of which Azir only drinks half. He doesn’t want to do anything, not even think. He just wants this day to vanish into the aether and never come back.

He’s the prince, and he must return to the palace at once. He loves Nasus… but he’s not family.

Not even when Nasus offers him one of his own tunics to use as a nightgown, and rocks him into bed, and covers him until he’s like a ball of blankets and locs from which two big, damp eyes stick out.

-I want… home.-

That has never been a home to you, child. Nasus can’t, however, speak those words. What he says is, instead, -Sleep about it. Maybe His Majesty will be forgiving of you.-

No, he won’t. Nasus knows how it works. And probably so does Azir, who holds tighter his new protector’s hand.

-I ruined everything. Again.-

What have they done to this kid.

Nasus places his wide hand on Azir’s head and strokes it, soft and circular.

-Ruin can look like many things. Why, sometimes it doesn’t even look like ruin at all. And the opposite can happen too, I think. What you did was an act or love. Never let love be shamed, Azir. Not ever.-

They’re good words, but they’re complicated. Azir squints at them, almost asleep. Nasus wipes his eyes and sits by his side, waiting for sleep to take him.

-You’re not a ruin, Azir. One day… things will go your way.-

He can only pray he didn’t lie to him.