#everything i know about the darkin

[corvicarum]

so i like mixing up pc, and lor lore for darkin & shurima. it melds so well, and makes the story more cohesive than it felt before. and im not sure but i think that riot may have confirmed a lot of this to be canon anyway? eh, here we go:

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍

a REALLY long time ago, the kingdom of shurima was at it's prime. they had this really cool sun disc, that could concentrate celestial power- and pour it into a single individual. creating what we know as the ascended. these were very powerful humans who shared features with animals. i.e nasus( jackal ), and renekton( crocodile ), and many more. this was the golden army, and-- as any nation might do when they have an all powerful army-- shurima sought to expand. and they did so under the rule of an ascendant emperor named azir.

so there was also this rlly cool nation called icathia, led by the mage king axamuk. he was as you can assume, not eager to give up. unfortunately, icathia didn't stand much of a chance against shurima. and so as a last resort; they used their magic to rip open a portal to the void. a place devoid( haha ) of all reason, all time, all space. what they didn't know, was that the voidborn would destroy EVERYTHING they touched. and so not only did shurima suffer losses, but so did icathia. and only when the land was desolate and barren-- did shurima retreat.

unfortunately, there are consequences for interacting at all with anything from the void. the ascendants who's minds were touched by the creatures would begin to go mad. threatening to turn on one another. and in a grim twist of fate, azir would be killed by one of his kin. leaving the maddening ascended on their own without any leader to guide them. enter: zolani

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍

zolani was an ascendant, who began to delve into blood magic. and found a way to use this blood magic to fix everything. this is kind of where it goes into headcanons and stuff ig people found through LoR? im just theorizing based on what i've read from various content / people's thoughts.

zolani gave other ascendants blood magic? promising that the magic would give them a great deal of power. the blood magic of course did change their forms and appearances to what we recognize now as general darkin biology. and did in fact, make them stronger. but what they didn't know, was that due to zolani's vast knowledge, and her being the source of this magic-- she could? control them?? and what was seen as a gift, turned out to be a curse.

in truth, she wanted to use the magic she gave them, to control them. which would have stopped them from trying to kill one another,

in a way i guess? this makes her an anti hero? definitely relatively good intentions done in a really fucked up way. which backfire, because they find out her aim, and mark her a traitor. so now you have a bunch of insane ascended god warriors, each one infused with VERY powerful blood magic. BIG OOF.

and BAM! thus begins the darkin war.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑

the darkin war nearly destroyed the world, and actually ruined parts of pretty much every continent in runterra. eventually, the aspect of twilight, came from the heavens to do something about it. creating a special weapon( the chalicar )that could harness moonlight and use it against the darkin. we know this aspect at current, as zoe. but at this time her name was myisha.

the way it worked i think is p vague. but in short: using the chalicar, they could seal the souls of these darkin into their own weapons. not killing them, as they were nigh impossible to kill-- but trapping them. of course one aspect could not do this on her own. so thats where everyone kind of comes in! with this gift, mortal races could finally fight back against the darkin.

the method wasn't perfect though. as sealing them worked fine, up until a mortal creature touches the blade. see, when a celestial creates these weapons they are very powerful. but when a mortal makes them, they're not quite as efficient. so while the darkin were in fact gone for the moment. the darkin curse was born, and now anyone who wields these weapons-- will become new physical vessels for these darkin to return to the world in.

and to make matters worse, the weapons are unbreakable.

it's interesting too, because it implies also that none of the darkin we see in game at current- are what they originally looked like. aatrox, rhaast, naafiri, to name a few, did look a bit different back int he day. and their current forms are a mesh of their new host body and their own original form.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘

again. the few darkin we know about have hosts. some of the hosts have melded perfectly with their darkin. some were overtaken entirely, and in the case of kayn, he fights his parasite. and actually manages to keep his influence under as much control as he can manage. all things considered.

zolani's influence is also still kind of seen? i haven't looked a whole lot into vladimir, but i do recall hearing he has ties to the darkin as well.

[ganondoodle]

i realized it while drawing that redesign for Xaror, but they really do look like i just did a somewhat cheap knock off of Kayn/Rhaast from league of legends oh my god

- i have had Xaror/Xanthriels rough design and lore for .. im pretty sure years before that champion released and even after it i actually never thought about it (unless you count liking aatrox and rhaasts designs, or i guess darkin in general, ... bc i just like those kind of monster designs, who would have guessed xD)

(for anyone that doesnt know league, this is rhaast (not my art, i wish it was, this is official riot games art .. also that art goes hard, i love rhaast alot)

hes a corrupted god warrior trapped in a weapon thats trying to take over his wielder (kayn, dont care for the guy) and once he succeeds this is how he looks, they also talk and banter constantly)

after merging back together i imagined Xaror and Xanthriel doing similarly, though much less as a struggle for control over the body, Xaror is more like a weirldy knowledgable teenager that does whatever he wants and Xanthriel just kinda watches and chimes in every now and then like a disappointed parent

(ngl realizing this isnt exactly helping me not feel like a fraud, but i dont think i can change xaror just bc of it, hes too woven into everything of my oc stuff .. q-q)

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 37

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC POV, slight incesty vibes, partying, drunk reader, alcohol consumption

Words:

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

Thalina sat in front of you the wooden figures of Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar. Toys you had grown to love as much as you did Thalina. The fear that had taken deep root in you once Rhaegar left Dragonstone was replaced by a sense of wonder and joy. Thalina knew you needed a friend, at least one, on the foreign island.

The light on your nightstand flickered comfortably, setting shadowy characters behind her as Thalina sat down next to you on the edge of your bed. She smiles at you, long honey brown hair that was normally elegantly braided, hung off of her shoulders. “Tonight I have a gift for you to accompany your story.”

Giddy about your potential surprise, you sit up against your pillow. Waiting expectantly while Thalina opens a drawstring bag. Onto your bedspread, she dumps out its contents and you smile when you see more dragon miniatures like the first gift she had ever given you. Together, along with the three you already had, there were fourteen of them.

“Now, my little one, do you know the names of these eleven other dragons?”

There were a few you could easily name and point to. You insisted that your nannies read you books upon books of dragon history, but there was only so much you could remember at such a young age. It had been quite a while since you had last refreshed on this subject matter.

“Famous Targaryen dragons, of course.” Thalina nods and toys with one that was an off-white color but had a golden chest. “And where did they get such names?”

“From Valyria?”

She chuckled. “Yes of course. But even Valyrians can not take credit for them. You see, these fourteen dragons are named after the Gods of Valyria. The very gods that created the men of valyria created dragons first. And this handsome fellow,” Holding up the one with the golden chest, Thalina names him “This is Arrax. He is considered the father of ancient Valyrian people. No, the gods weren’t dragons, but they did share some physical attributes. The gods have a body like men but also have wings, horns and tails, much like the creatures they created: dragons.”

You loved these late night rendevouz with Thalina. The grouchy septa that was in charge of looking after you didn't much like it when Thalina spoke of the other gods in Essos. You would often hear your septa call them heathens. So Thalina was forced to tell you stories when she knew that old grouch wasn't around to eavesdrop. Her stories always gave you the most exciting dreams. Dreams where dragons still existed and you were lucky enough to ride them.

"It must have been fun to ride dragons." You had mused outloud. "Imagine being able to touch the clouds and go wherever you wanted! I could see Rhaegar at any time if I had a dragon. King's Landing isn't that far."

Thalina chuckled and kissed your brow as she tucked you back in; setting your new collection of dragons on your nightstand. All fourteen lined up perfectly. "Maybe one day when you're older things will change."

Your attendants had rushed you back to your apartments as you held the small hatchling in your arms. Her warmth calmed your rapidly beating heart and tampered the trembling of your muscles. By the gods. . . you had done it. Everything leading up to that moment meant nothing. Training, defeating a darkin, conjuring your own flames for Lightbringer; none could compare to the tiny life you pressed against your chest. Rhiannon’s cloak draped over your shoulders, the burnt orange material covered the little dragon although every once in a while it would flap open to show her beautiful, pearlescent scales along with your bare skin. Ash and smoke prevantly clung to you as your entourage passed through the corridors, your Fiery Hands making the way as if they expected a sudden enemy to pop out from around the corner. You couldn’t blame them or think they were too paranoid. What had happened out there was a miracle, a complete game changer to the history you were forging.

Too shocked to completely comprehend what was happening, you hadn’t even realized that Weles had opened your bedroom door.

Jaime’s protective hand falls onto your shoulder and he guides you inside. A muffled conversation between a red priest and Weles vaguely floated through your ear but you couldn’t discern what they were saying. All you could hear was the small chirps coming from your arms.

Your older brother sits you down and Rhiannon moves around him. “Nuha kosh, are you alright?”

“She’s in shock.”

“Obviously. She just hatched a dragon egg! The first one in centuries.”

Those who were deemed unimportant were shooed out of your room by Melisandre; Sirvart being her muscle to enforce her order. Alizah’s sweet, dream-like voice beckons

Inanna, who had been quietly watching, forward as the small girl was already holding a change of clothes for you.

“(y/n), I’m going to remove the cloak from you now.” Rhiannon gently informs you and you stiffly nod. Tyrion, Jaime and Inniros turn away to offer you at least some sense of privacy. There were still so many voices talking outside of your chambers, you wondered what chaos you had caused.

Inanna’s small shriek seemed to snap you out enough to focus on her as she literally jumped back. On your lap, the dragonling stretches her delicate looking wings. Curiously, the dragon cooed at her, tilting her head at the new person in front of her but not moving from you.

Melisandre quickly swoops in and motions for Inanna to leave. The girl shakingly bows before scurrying out of your room. Alizah follows after her quietly and you hope its to comfort the poor girl.

Presented with a new gown, you shoot a cautious glance over at the boys who had their backs turned to you before standing up and shifting the little dragon onto your bed. She- at least you felt like it was a female- didn’t like being separated from you even if it was just for a moment. The dragonling shrieks and hops around on the bed.

“Already the hatchling is bonded to you.” Melisandre’s red eyes sparkle exquisitely, watching the dragon’s movements with awe. Along with Rhiannon, the two red priestesses help you into a much more comfortable dress that flowed freely and didn’t restrict your movements. They also used a wet washcloth to run along your arms and legs to clean you off.

Nodding once the sunburst dress makes you decent, Rhiannon tells the boys they can turn back around. At that point, Siofra makes an appearance with a pair of shears and hands them to Rhiannon; all while eying the dragon on your bed.

Her bright ember eyes stare inquisitively at Siofra and the others who flitted about your room. Bravely, Tyrion approaches your bed and makes eye contact with the dragonling. His expression was filled with light and wonderment. “What are you going to name it?”

Jaime’s brows furrow and he walks next to Tyrion. “How can you even tell if it's a boy or a girl?”

You admit “I don’t know why, but I feel like this dragon is a female. Just something about her expressions.”

That makes Jaime chuckle a bit and he hesitantly holds out his hand in front of the little dragon. Startled by his actions, she moves back and snaps her toothpick sized teeth at him. Tyrion’s turn to laugh at Jaime’s rejection, your older brother scowls and holds his hand close to his chest. For being so small, the dragon was already showing the fire inside of her.

“I haven’t really had time to think of a name.”

This made Tyrion excited and he could barely contain himself when he asked “Can I choose her name? I’ve always wanted to name a dragon.”

You smile, finally feeling like yourself again and the shock dying down. “Make sure to decide on a good name fitting for her.”

Learning from Jaime’s mistake, instead of putting his hand over the hatchling’s head, Tyrion holds out his hand in front of her so that she may sniff it first. A natural connection was made between Tyrion and the hatchling when she allowed your little brother to gently pet her snout. “Her scales are so warm. Almost hot.”

“All dragons emit a natural heat from their bodies. Hotter than human skin, it could even scald.” Inniros comments out of the blue, Melisandre turn to face him. That was right, both were originally from Asshai so they must already know of dragonlore; secrets and knowledge that no one else knows about. With his single blue eye, Inniros glances at the Red Woman in an almost hostile way that you didn’t understand. Not for the first time either. The darkin, not getting along with the Fiery Hand for obvious reasons, didn’t seem to get along well with the temple’s priests and priestesses. They moved as far away from him as possible and Melisandre appeared to be the only one to tolerate Inniros’ presence.

When there’s a knock at your door, Sirvart leaves her station to crack it open. A brief conversation was carried out before she closed the door once again. “High Priest Benerro wishes to see you before the feast commences. For obvious reasons. And he would like you to bring. . .” Sirvart needn’t finish her sentence. Everyone looked over to Tyrion and the hatchling who was now climbing onto his shoulders. Her snout tussled around his wild hair as she inspected him.

“He’ll have to wait. (y/n) is in dire need of a trim.” Rhiannon holds up the shears that Siofra had handed her.

That’s right. Your hair must look a mess after the flames ate away your long tresses. You lift your hand to feel the choppy, dry ends. The longest piece you found barely reached your jawline. Never had your hair been so short. Vaguely you remember when Thalina was forced to cut off her own luxurious hair because of Viserys. Honestly, you thought she looked even cuter with short hair as it framed her round face better. Her hair curled into ringlets and there was nothing you enjoyed more than decorating her hair with various wildflowers that you found on the hills of Dragonstone.

Once Rhiannon cleaned up your hair, you were escorted to the temple’s chapel hall where the High Priest was attended by several others of his guild. Their whispering voices immediately stopped dead when your presence was made. The dragonling was on your shoulder once more; once she saw you moving away from her, she had quickly clambered off of Tyrion’s shoulder and leapt onto your back.

While your hair was being trimmed, the rest of your entourage had decided to dress themselves up for the upcoming feast that was to be held at sunset. Those of the Fiery Hand, including Jaime, wore exquisite robes and sashes. Siofra had dressed Tyrion in a nice shimmering beige tunic and over it was a burgundy short sleeve doublet that greatly reminded you of the Lannister colors. Both of your brothers looked charming in their outfits. Even Tyrion’s wild hair had been brushed and braided in the warrior style of the Fiery Hand.

The men present in the chapel all at once fell to their knees in front of you making you blush from embarrassment. You weren’t used to such adulation and you doubted it was something you would ever get accustomed to.

Even the High Priest bowed his head low, too old to actually get down on the hard ground. “Nuha kosh.”

Walking down the aisle that the other priests had made, you go up the small steps that led to the main altar. Benerro’s eyes fall upon the small dragon on your shoulder. She flapped her wings slightly to steady herself as you took each step carefully.

“Arlie ēza issare vēttan tubī (History has been made today).” He announces in that alarmingly strong voice that betrayed the feebleness of his mortal body. “Īlva kosh, Azōr Ahaī sigligon, ēza maghatan arlī se ēlī zaldrīzes pār pōja morghon(Our champion, Azor Ahai Reborn, has resurrected the first dragon since their extinction).”

The priests held up their hands to the vaulted ceiling, raising their praises in loud chants of jubilation. It startled your hatchling and she moved closer to the side of your neck and face.

In the Common Tongue, Benerro personally addresses you. “While this is certainly cause for celebration, unfortunately it also means we must address the safety of both you and the temple.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“The news of what has happened today has already spread. Many witnessed your miracle firsthand and have been quick to tell others. Some priests have voiced their concerns. There is fear among them that this news will bring upon assaults on our temple in order to acquire your dragon. While our Fiery Hand is strong, against another larger army, they could not possibly defend the temple properly. Which is why your journey to Asshai must proceed tomorrow morning.”

At first you gawked at him before clearing your throat. “Tomorrow?”

He nods solemnly. “You will be safer in Asshai until the dragon grows enough to defend itself. It would be best for you to depart as soon as possible, but tonight you can still enjoy yourself at the feast.”

You look behind you to Tyrion, wishing you had had more time to spend with him before your departure. Paining you to leave him so soon. This was necessary though. Pursing your lips in a firm line, you nod. “Of course.”

“It is best that your traveling group remains small, to attract less attention. Melisandre, Weles, and a priest have already been chosen to accompany you as well as the darkin.”

“Alizah will not be coming?” For some reason the assumption you held was that Alizah, being the most gifted priestess, would also be there.

>From the group behind you, Alizah steps forward. “While I would love to join you, unfortunately duty calls me to somewhere else. I will actually be leaving right away. Time is of the essence. I have faith in Lady Melisandre and Priest Rayzer that they will take good care of you. I will keep you in my prayers though.”

You hadn’t met a Rayzer before, at least you don’t remember. A lot of people have been introduced to you during your time at the temple. Some were merely visiting, others had quickly left to go on one of their missionary work.

“Your Grace,” Rhiannon slowly makes her way next to you, looking up imploringly at the High Priest “Please allow me to follow nuha kosh to Asshai. I may not be as useful as Lady Melisandre or even Lady Alizah, but there is nothing more I would greatly desire than traveling with (y/n).”

“Yes, please, Your Grace.” Humbly you bow your head and the High Priest hastily urges you to raise your face.

“If this is what you desire.”

“It is.” It would be hard enough leaving your brothers, but leaving Rhiannon behind would prove to be a lonely journey for you.

With the High Priest’s blessing, Rhiannon was permitted to go with you to Asshai. A great weight had been lifted off of your chest. While you would definitely miss Tyrion and Jaime, you would still have Rhiannon with you.

The day wore on, hasty plans being made for your departure, and the sun slowly dipping down below the horizon. Already the yard which was normally used for training was being decorated with braziers and great pits of fire that gave off plenty of natural light. Nobility from the Black Wall had ventured out and were already filling out the yard, replacing the sparring Fiery Hands with long gowns and exquisite robes. Even local merchants were in attendance, sporting their fineries.

You watched them from your balcony. Tyrion sitting at the table you normally ate breakfast at; your dragon playfully hopped around on the table, her nails clacking against the tile top. Jaime stood next to you, his arms folded in front of him. Just the three Lannister siblings. The others were preoccupied with their own tasks, reassuring security was set in place.

Sensing your rising nerves, Jaime says “You should be used to all this attention by now.”

A small laugh leaves you and you shake your head. “No. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I’ve spent all of my life being unnoticed. Even when I was married to Rhaegar, I was overlooked. I didn’t mind it, honestly. There were no expectations that I could ruin.”

“I don’t think you can ruin any now. You have done the impossible, (y/n).” He turns to you and the orange-pink glow radiating off of the sunset made Jaime appear to beam with warmth. The green of his eyes was so bright that they seemed to glow. A scar below his eye, courtesy of Inniros, was the only thing that blemished his otherwise handsome face.“Once father hears of this he’ll feel so ashamed of the years he disregarded you.”

You shrug, not particularly caring of what Tywin thought of you anymore. All of the things you had accomplished, you had done without the help of the Lord of Casterly Rock. What you were more so excited about was Rhaegar. If the news was spreading fast, then you hoped that Rhaegar would hear it too and know you were still alive.

“I’ve decided on a name!” Tyrion abruptly claims.

“Well, lets hear it.” Jaime grins and leaves your side to wander over to Tyrion. If Jaime looked beautiful in the light of sunset, then your little dragon certainly outshined him. Her scales, glittering with soft colors like that of an opal, were enhanced as she flapped her wings experimentally.

You left the balcony rail and joined your brothers.

Tyrion pretends to clear his throat. “I am proud to present to you Latilth.”

Jaime rolled the name around in his mouth before nodding. “A pretty name for an equally dazzling creature.”

“I like it. Latilth.” As if already knowing her name, Latilth cocks her head and waddles over to you. You smile and stroke the top of her head. Her small little horns were mere buds on her head. Everything about Latilth was so delicate. For now. One day this little hatchling would grow into the most deadly of predators that the world has ever seen. She would lead your army and help you defeat your enemies. On her back you would fly all the way back to Westeros. Some day you hoped for Rhaegar to see the both of you and how much you had grown. You still considered yourself to be meek, that was something that would take more time to remedy, but you weren’t that same little girl dying on her bed. The way Rhaegar left you.

Quietly, Tyrion asks you “How long will you be in Asshai?” He didn’t meet your gaze and you knew that he didn’t like you leaving him so soon.

You hug him from behind and hide your sad face in his hair. Tyrion smelled of sweet jasmine and citrus. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how long it will be to get there. But I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.”

“Remind me why you have to leave again.”

You chuckle. “There are secrets in Asshai that will help me. Plus as Azor Ahai reborn it is my duty to gather the darkin over to our cause.”Plus there was something that had been bugging you about the relationship between the Temple and the darkin. An off-hand comment that both Melisandre and Inniros had made. From what you had experienced with Inniros, he generally wasn’t a very friendly person. Around the priests and priestesses though (especially around the Fiery Hand) he seemed especially hostile.

Tyrion’s small hand grasps at your arm. “Here I thought we would have more time together.”

“Once I get back I promise we will. For now, you’ll just have to be satisfied with Jaime.”

“Rude.”

Both you and Tyrion giggle and you release him. “I know there is no one else who could take greater care of our little brother than you.”

“Of course. I’ll see what he learned from Ser Barristan. Hone his skill.” He promised and winked over at Tyrion.

There was a slight worry that the men of the Fiery Hand would be too rough. But you couldn’t coddle Tyrion because of his defect. You knew he hated that more than anything. Tyrion wanted to be just like Jaime no matter what.

You trusted Jaime to not let serious harm fall upon the youngest sibling. How much time would pass during your stay in Asshai? Upon your return you didn’t doubt that Tyrion would grow into a young man in your absence.

Calming your nerves about the future, you gaze back out to the yard. Watching the small figures below scurrying around like ants.

Latilth, wishing to be closer to her mistress, hobbled on the tile surface and made her way up your back. Tiny claws dragging along delicate fabric and eventually the skin of your back. Latilth’s claws could not yet compare to the ones that had originally torn into your skin.

Finally situated on your shoulder, Latilth rubs her forehead against your jawline. You grin and nuzzle against her. “Happy name day, Latilth.” You considered this celebration more for her. She would be the star of the show.

“I hope this party won’t be like the stuffy ones father always took us to.” By his voice, he’s already anticipating a boring occasion. Jaime had never been one for ceremony. Dressing up in formal wear and feigning his best behavior, Jaime loathed such gatherings. A cousin of yours in Lannisport had thrown a lavish gala and your parents had dragged all three of you along. Of course it was Cersei who flourished in that environment. She was dazzling, enchanting those around her while you stuck close to your mother’s skirts. Jaime could have been charming his relatives like his twin, but that held no interest to him. Instead he had incited rowdiness among male cousins closer to his age. Tywin, for everyone knew that Jaime was his favorite, merely gave him a quiet scolding on how to act. After all, Tywin still had hopes that Jaime would someday become the Lord of Casterly Rock.

“We’ll see if Volantis knows how to have fun.” you smile and bump your shoulder against his arm playfully. He replies with a grin.

For the first time in quite a while your life was content. At your side were both of your beloved brothers that you had so longed for during your lonely childhood. And on your shoulder was your sparkling future.

Jaime stares at (y/n)’s peace filled smile, her eyes no longer anxious but relaxed. It did indeed feel like Jaime could afford to breathe and rest. At least for the moment. He will have to watch his sister leave come tomorrow morning. Being parted from left a foul feeling in his chest. For nearly two years they had been traveling together, learning to trust one another enough to clash blades. Having suffered through a lot, Jaime was apprehensive about not going with her to Asshai. (y/n) could physically take care of herself, that was certain, yet that knowledge itself did not make the separation any easier for Jaime.Who knew what will befall her in the strange country known as Asshai. All he had ever heard of that place were horror stories.

Now he would take the opportunity to engrain her face into his memory. (y/n)’s short hair really suited her despite her short bangs revealing the scar above her eyebrow. Sparring under the swollen sun had gifted her with a dust of freckles over the bridge of her nose. Faint but still visible to Jaime’s admiring eyes. She shimmered before him, much like Latilth, the dragonling that had just been brought into the world but several hours ago. Already aware of herself, Latilth turned her head at every new sight and sound with no fear. Rather it was curiosity of the world, a world she could one day possibly rule.

So this is what Thalina had envisioned for (y/n). Jaime kicked himself for thinking the maid a raving lunatic. Had he truly understood, maybe he could have saved her in time too.

“You must do this. She is more important to the world than you can truly understand.” Thalina’s eyes had been so angry, that’s what Jaime had thought at the time. Even as tears reddened them and welled up. Now Jaime was older and wiser. Thalina had never been angry. It was fear that made her words tremble. She had clutched onto him so desperately, knowing that she would not be around for much longer. From living in the temple, Jaime was aware that Thalina had been able to see into the future by reading flames. Something that (y/n) seemed capable of at a rudimentary level. Jaime wondered how much of (y/n)’s future Thalina had seen.

Taking him a few moments to register that (y/n) was now looking at him, her thick brows crossed with concern. “Are you okay?” Her gentle tone automatically brought a light smile to Jaime’s lips. He loved her for many reasons but above all it was the fact that her tender heart still remained with her. After heartbreak and devastation, blood and tears, (y/n) held onto her kindness. This world would not tear her down. She was strong in her own way.

Just to wipe that look off her face, Jaime softly pinches the tip of her nose with his index and middle finger. The face and noise that came from her made both brothers laugh. She sputtered and slapped his hand away. “Yes I’m okay. What about you? It’s been a hell of a day.”

While rubbing her abused nose, (y/n) grins. Latilth seemingly cooes like a dove at (y/n)’s smile. What a strange creature. “Honestly I would enjoy a nap, but I suppose I’ll sleep plenty tonight.”

“They really don’t let you rest here.” Sighs Tyrion. “These people run you ragged. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a god’s chosen hero.”

(y/n)’s whole demeanor loses edge. “Even so, being here. . . I have some kind of purpose. The most fulfilling events of my life have happened here.”

Guilt and shame arise in Jaime whenever he is reminded of (y/n)’s childhood. For good reason too as Jaime should have been the one to protect his little sister, even if that meant going against Cersei. His childhood errors would always haunt him, even looking at how happy (y/n) was now. They could have been so much closer had he been a proper brother in the beginning. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so wrapped up in Cersei’s web. His cruel, lovely Cersei; Jaime’s heart still called out for her like a wandering soul. She was his other half after all. All the terrible things she had done to (y/n) though couldn’t be overlooked. Jaime would not stand idly by like he once did.

Jaime puts a hand on (y/n)’s vacant shoulder. Her beaming face when she looks up at him was enough to melt any negative wonderings that swirled in his head. “If you can get through today, I’m pretty sure you can survive anything. Asshai better watch out for you.”

Tyrion lowers his voice, glancing over his shoulder and back to his sister’s room. “Are you sure you trust Inniros?”

Not wasting a second, (y/n) confidently nods. “I do. Our meeting may not have been ideal, but I”ve spoken with him. The darkin aren’t a blood thirsty breed, not like the stories we heard. Inniros, above all things, is still just a mortal like us.”

The way she spoke of the darkin sparked a green flame like wildfire in Jaime. Her voice had turned soft when discussing Inniros. (y/n) held such sympathy for the man that would have so readily killed her. Jaime was not as trusting. In the blink of an eye, Inniros easily slaughtered Feichen and several other servants of R’hllor. Nightmares of being held captive by his own shadow still tormented Jaime in the night. He had been utterly helpless, an entirely new concept to Jaime. Helpless and forced to watch men he had trained with, men he had grown comfortable around, taken down like they were nothing. The scars that both he and his sister bore were courtesy of the darkin, but (y/n) seemed eager to forget that.

Underneath his skepticism belied his jealousy. A jealousy he had continuously tried to squash down. “Lets hope you’re right.” He wanted her to be right. The alternative was something Jaime didn’t want to entertain like the thought of Inniros turning the darkin against her when she got there.

Only thing for Jaime to do was simply place his faith and trust in his sister. After all this time, (y/n) was constantly surprising him.

Rich red wine flowed heavily in your veins. It was the only thing to tamper down your natural shyness. Indeed this party was better than any you had attended in Westeros. Even outshining your wedding banquet which had overall been an awkward occasion.

Torches and braziers were lit and a large campfire had been erected in the center of the training field. Pleasing you to see many of the occupants in the temple letting loose and enjoying themselves. Weles looked absolutely stunning in his formal attire, so unlike his sparring robes that he normally dawned. The captain was completely at ease, enjoying the atmosphere and even more so admiring that his own warriors were having fun as well. You noticed this as Weles watched Yophiel and Sirvart covertly flirting with one another. This supposed secret interaction made Weles smile to himself and take a sip of his wine. Light from the torches made the yellow tattoos on his face stand out against his dark skin. You enjoyed watching your friends be carefree and wild.

Friends.

You had never really had friends before. Thalina and Tyrion were the only friends you could conjure up from your memory. Even then Tyrion was too little to even be speaking full sentences.

Now you observed Rhiannon dancing with Iyan in a ridiculous manner, but they didn’t care. Dritan walks up to them middance and Rhiannon leaves Iyan, the other Fiery Hand coaxing her off to the side in a private conversation. Iyan goes back to his dancing as is soon joined by the beautiful Ilta. You could even hear some of the red priests who stood off to the side cackling with laughter and slapping one another on the back. In the very center was Inanna teaching Tyrion a traditional dance.

Eyes catching those you didn’t recognize and who Nuahlin had whispered to you in the beginning as those who lived behind the Black Wall. Beyond the Black Wall is what many referred to as “Old Volantis”. No outlander, freeman, or foreigner is allowed inside the Black Wall. These were nobles above all else. In turn they watched you with lingering gazes. Nuahlin told you that while they don’t believe in R’hllor, they were nevertheless curious about the young girl whom the High Priest celebrated as Azor Ahai reborn and her newborn dragon.

Latilth, enjoying the pieces of cooked meat that you fed to her here and there, kept to either your shoulder or the comfort of your arms. While she was small, many did not dare come up to you. Intimidating for the very fact that one day the little dragon would become something to fear.

“Naejot se ābri hen bantis! (To the ladies of the evening!)”

“Vidarr!” You chirp and clink glasses with him.

His lavender eyes are filled with good tidings and he siddles next to you. A temple handmaid quietly walks over to Vidarr, offering another decanter of wine which he gladly poured into his empty chalice. “They haven’t had a party like this in decades. So I’ve been hearing at least from the old men.”

Interested in the new face before her, Latilth leans off of your shoulder slightly to sniff at Vidarr.

He chuckles and holds out his hand in front of her nose so that she may inspect him. “She is beautiful for such a dangerous creature. May she grow to be as big as the temple!” Latilth eyed his fingers before giving one sniff then retracting her body back to you. It was clear that she saw you as security.

“I hope so. Once she’s big enough then we can return to Westeros. Who knows how long that will take though.” You hoped that in that time, Rhaegar would prove triumphant in the war against Aerys. In your heart whispered something else “Wait for me, Rhaegar”. Was the whisper of your heart doomed to shrivel up and die? He was technically free to remarry as everyone believed you to be dead. If he wanted, he could take Lyanna as his bride; she was the woman he had wanted all along. Now that he was allies with the north, this would look to be a great opportunity for both sides. The north could claim that their Lady Lyanna was a queen to the Dragon Prince.

“There are many secret magics in Asshai.” Vidarr commented. “Perhaps you’ll find something that will make her grow fast. Although I know the temple will miss you desperately when the time comes for you to return to Westeros. Many of us will go with you, of course, but those who don’t have a high station will be forced to stay here.”

“Some of the Fiery Hand will have to stay here to protect the temple.” You wonder who would be chosen to stay. Of course Weles couldn’t, he was the captain and most skilled out of any of his men and women.

The Myrenese smile at you. “Matters to worry about come tomorrow. For now, enjoy these last moments. Have you spoken to any from the Black Wall?”

You tell him that while you haven’t actively gone up to one, they seemed to want to examine you and Latilth from a distance.

Those from the Black Wall believed in the religion of Old Valyria. Vaguely you recall Thalina telling you these tales with the dragon statuettes that she gifted to you.

A dragon after so many years is exciting for anyone, but you guessed they were especially holding high hopes for Latilth. Dragons held an intricate position in their religion.

“Are you able to dance with the Lady Latilth on your shoulder?” Vidarr sets aside his cup and holds out a hand to you.

Laughing at calling Latilth a ‘lady’ and warn him “Even with Latilth, I’ve never been much of a dancer. I have two left feet.”

“I can attest to that.” Jaime buds in, his thick arms crossed in front of his chest. “I believe (y/n) owes me a dance first.”

Vidarr holds his hands up innocently with a smile on him. “Of course, Ser. I will wait my turn patiently.”

The gold bracers on his forearms shimmered when he held out his hand. “Lilagon lēda nyke, ñuha kosh.(Dance with me, my champion)” His Valyrian shocked you and you neary didn’t register what he said. It was flawless, unlike his usual struggle with the pronunciation.

You stare at him with wide, enchanted eyes. “Who taught you that?”

“The best teacher there is: our own brother Tyrion.”

No time to hear any of your protests, Jaime guides you to the center ring of the dancing figures. Latilth excitedly flaps her wings, startling those around you at her abrupt movement. With his fingers entwined with yours, he unexpectedly twirls you around and you try your best to keep your steps as fluid as possible. The dragon on your shoulders clung to you but beat her wings as if dancing along with you and your brother. Live music that was being played by local musicians, picked up speed with their notes. In reply you and Jaime acted accordingly. He was so light on his feet, you panicked when you tripped over your own feet. Jaime had a tight hold on you and prevented you from falling. Elegantly he moves along with your desperate steps.

Pulling you closer to him, Jaime whispers in your ear “Relax, (y/n). Just pretend we’re sparring. You’ve always said it’s like a violent dance.”

Pretend we’re sparring. . . Okay, I can do that.

You take a deep breath before Jaime releases you in a spin. Right in front of him, the sparring began. Pivoting around him, your arms acted as swords. When they clashed, Jaime was actually touching your skin in a manner that sent shivers up your arms. His smile was brilliant as he matched your footsteps, going along with the fast paced music.

At this you were much better. Regular dancing had always scared you but this was freeing. You felt wild and untamed in this faux fight. Jaime. . . Jaime was the perfect partner for you. If you had danced with him at your wedding, you wondered if it would have been as easy as this. Probably not, not with those oppressive eyes on you. The eyes of your father, sister, and those who didn’t care an ounce about you.

Now you used your training that Weles had drilled into to keep light on your toes to keep up with Jaime. More surprising was the way Latilth moved her body along to prevent the movements from making her fall off of you.

Then as the music came to an end, you wound up staring right up into Jaime’s eyes in the final position. Both of your were flushed and grinning wildly as your audience clapped and cheered at your performance. A spark, perhaps it was the wine, energized your chest as you smile at Jaime. The two of you had been through so much but he had proven that he was there to stay by your side. So much love thrummed in you for Jaime. You gave his hands a squeeze since he still held onto them tightly. How would you survive Asshai without your knight?

Your body, out of its own accord, wrapped arms around Jaime and embraced him tightly. With your ear pressed against his chest, you heard the strong beating of his heart. Maybe it was an inappropriate time to show this display of affection but you didn’t care.

Slowly Jaime returns the embrace and places his cheek on the crown of your head. How long had it been since you received any kind of physical attention from a man? You couldn’t even remember the last time you laid in Rhaegar’s bare arms. It had to have been when you were heavily pregnant before. . . before the poison took everything away from you.

Not until Jaime had returned your desperate embrace did you realize how much you had missed such contact.

You close your eyes and try to capture the moment. Something you could replay on lonely nights in Asshai.

Jaime laughed at you as he helped you back up to your room. You had never consumed so much wine in your entire life and you feared you had overdone it. Unsteady on your feet, you relied heavily on your older brother to safely get you to your bed. At your stumbling, Latilth had fled from your shoulders and onto Jaime’s.

Through some garbling, you managed to get out “Serry Latilth. . .”

“Lets hope you don’t wake up hungover.” Jaime chuckled more so to himself as you were hovering in and out of consciousness. You had so much fun after dancing with Jaime. Vidarr danced with you in the same way and even lumbering Yophiel wanted a turn. Drinking helps you to get out of your shell more and interact with others. A priest whom you had never spoken to before had the interesting hobby of stone carving while another showed off his “fire breathing” skills.

“Waz dat?”

“That’s what happens when you drink too much. You get sick the following morning.” Jaime shakes his head, still holding his smile at your slurred speech.

“Oh nooooo.” Groaning, at least you were somewhat coherent as to realize that you could possibly be sick when you board the ship to Asshai. That was the last thing you needed. The relationship between you and the sea had never been a kind one. Crashing of the waves and the jostling of the vessel always made you sick to your stomach.

Reaching the door to your chambers, Jaime jostles both you and Latilth so he could open the door. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get lots of water into you. Hopefully there’s something they have to combat nausea.”

Very carefully he made his way to your bed and gently laid you down. Latilth hopped off of him and nuzzled against your side. Her presence sobered you up a little so that you could watch Jaime go to your wardrobe and pull out a comfortable night shift.

He holds it up for you to see. “Do you think you can dress yourself?”

Even lifting yourself up to your elbows was hard work and in the end you let yourself fall back onto the mattress.

“I guess not. I can go call upon Siofra-”

“No. Dun bover her.” You waved at him. “I’ll just. . . sleep in my clothes.”

Jaime shrugs and tosses your shift off to the side. From the decanter on your table, he pours water and lifts your head enough so you could easily drink. The water tasted sweet against your tongue. Drinking until you had your fill, your brother puts aside the decanter and lays right next to you.

“Jemmie?”

You hear him laugh quietly. “Yes?”

You roll onto your side that faced him. Never during your journey had you been so close to him. Even when sharing the same room and bed there was always a distance. Now though you could easily see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed quietly. What you really wanted to ask him was whether or not he thought Rhaegar would marry Lyanna in the end. You were reminded of how he naturally had a dislike for Rhaegar after what had happened. That seemed so long ago but he still held a hatred for him. Even on your way to Volon Therys the two of you had gotten into a spat about Rhaegar.

He doesn't want to hear about Rhaegar, (y/n).

The last days of your normal life at King’s Landing felt like a far off dream. You had thought that maybe against all odds that Rhaegar was finally falling in love with you. His kisses, caresses and eyes when he gazed upon you all screamed love. There was your uncertainty though. Was he pretending? Did he still desire Lyanna Stark? The thought that killed you the most is if Rhaegar had been pretending the entire time. No, you didn’t want to believe that. That wasn’t Rhaegar. Rhaegar’s love couldn’t be faked.

Jaime will think he was pretending all along. That Rhaegar could never love you because he already loved Lyanna.

In your inebriated stupor, all words left you and you burst into tears.

Her tears dried up after some time of letting (y/n) cry herself out. Jaime held her close to him, feeling his exposed chest grow wet from her eyes. Quivers raking her body eventually subsided as her breathing returned to almost normal. At first he wanted to laugh when he first saw her crying, chalking it up to the immense amount of alcohol that she had consumed. But there was a genuine sadness in the way (y/n) sobbed.

Before that night, Jaime had never touched her in such a way. Close and intimate like the way she had embraced him earlier. Due to his afflictions he tried his best to keep himself at arm’s length from his sister, a sister he greatly desired. Things couldn’t be the same way it had been with Cersei. (y/n) wasn’t Cersei. She was pure and untainted by malice and sin. He wanted her to stay that way. And if (y/n) were to ever find out about his secret? She certainly would never look at him the same way. When she had confronted Jaime about his incestuous relationship with his twin, the expression on his face made him want to shrivel up and die on the spot. The dirt of such immoral acts suddenly weighing him down. All those times he had been with Cersei, Jaime had never cared if it was a sin or not. To hell with everyone who thought what he was doing was wrong. Until he saw the disgust on her face. When tempers did die down and (y/n) willing to discuss it, she seemed to understand that no one could help who they fell in love with. Her past with Cersei though added a tone of hurt in her words. Cersei had caused great trauma to her, physically and mentally. While Jaime never got the feeling that (y/n) hated Cersei, (y/n) definitely did not like her.

To her, Cersei was the most revolting creature there could ever be.

Jaime learned a great deal about self-control around (y/n). He couldn’t afford for her to find out about the dreams he had of her at night. How he longed to kiss her and know her as a lover as well. It would never and could never be.

Her silence prompted Jaime to peek down at her face. The tears were no longer and she appeared to be fast asleep. He sighs in relief and moves his arm out from under her. The gem colored dragon peered over (y/n)’s shoulder and at Jaime. Two small balls of fire.

“Take care of each other.” His whisper is picked up by Latilth. There was an almost human intelligence to her that startled him. She looked like she was listening to each word he said and understanding them.

Without making much movement, Jaime gets off of the bed and walks around it until he stood on the other side. Staring down at his sleeping sister, his body refused to move. When the sun rose back into its proper place in the sky, she would be gone. How odd her absence will be. This would be much different from when she left Casterly Rock for Dragonstone. He would miss her terribly.

If you’re really there, Lord of Light, hear my plea and do not take it lightly. Protect her. She is your champion. If YOU prove to be worthy, then I will dedicate myself to the cause of the Fiery Hand and get one of those damn tattoos. I will live out the end of my days in service to you and (y/n). Just bring her back to me safely.

Leaning over her, Jaime made sure that she was deep in sleep before kissing the corner of her mouth; the only thing he would allow himself. R'hllor better bring back his sun, for without (y/n) there could be no sunshine for Jaime.

When he walked out into the darkened corridor, he felt something off; a very familiar sensation shot up his spin. In mere seconds a dagger was in Jaime’s hands as he glared into the shadows. “Alright, come out you darkin bastard.”

There was no way Jaime would ever get used to witnessing the darkin’s power at work. This creature was the perfect predator. No matter what (y/n)’s views on him, Inniros was nothing more than a monster to Jaime and many of the other Fiery Hands. His union with darkness itself, well, it was simply sinister in nature.

A ghost white face meets Jaime followed by a shock of red hair that was sheared close to his scalp. One lone blue eye greeted him and it was enough to make Jaime’s stomach ill. “You have escorted (y/n) safely to her bed, I presume?”

Indignation flared in Jaime, desiring nothing else but to bury his weapon deep into that remaining eye of his. “Were you spying on us?”

“You sound like you have something to hide.” replied Inniros, aggravating Jaime’s last nerves.

“You’re lucky my sister needs you to get through Asshai.”

“Both your sisters required my skill.” He nods. “But only one do I truly adhere to. My only target to ever survive. I haven’t had such a fight in quite a long time. (y/n) though, she bested me. My master will be curious to see her.”

He didn’t trust him yet Inniros was the one to go with (y/n), not Jaime. His fears crept back up on him about (y/n)’s safety. No way was he letting her go now, not without him.

Inniros sighed at the deadly glare that Jaime was stabbing into him. “Put away your daggers. I didn’t need to spy to understand your affections for her.”

“Then why are you here?!” Snapped Jaime. He wasn’t dumb enough to believe that he could take on Inniros one-on-one. Indeed Jaime possessed an infamous swordhand that won him a spot on the Kingsguard at the youngest age any had seen, but meant nothing against a darkin. The lighting of the sconces mounted on the hallway walls gave Inniros the complete upperhand as more shadows were flickering about.

Putting it bluntly, Inniros said “I’m sorry I killed your comrades. I’m sure they would have had more of a chance against a normal man.”

Not sure whether to laugh or to rip him apart, Jaime pressed his back against the hard stone wall and slammed his head hard. How easily he apologized with not an ounce of emotion! Then again, could darkin even have emotions? (y/n) had said he was a mortal just like them, but how could one still be human and wield such a villainous power and not be poisoned by it. . . Certainly there had to be a price that your soul paid.

“Your sister instructed me to kill anyone who was in my way. And she ideally wanted you returned to her alive.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

Waiting and allowing for Jaime to calm down, Inniros remained silent until he felt Jaime’s heart beat slow to a moderately normal rhythm. From a pocket within his black cloak, the darkin pulled out a leather pouch; tossing it at Jaime’s feet. Reaching his arm down to retrieve, Jaime’s eyes were trained on Inniros who didn’t seem to ever blink. In the sconce’s light he saw gold coins from varying countries in both Westeros and Essos. Jaime picked up a golden dragon coin, pursing his lips when he imagined who it came from.

Cersei. . . even I didn’t think you so hateful. Not the mischievous girl he had grown up with. The very one who would sneak off from her own lessons and switch with Jaime. As small children it was hard to tell them apart if they were not wearing gender distinguishing clothes. Many times unbeknown to the sword master himself, it would be Cersei wearing Jaime’s clothes; both having had the same length of hair.

“Do with it what you will. I don’t want it anymore. All of what Cersei gave me is there as well as my own from years traveling through Essos. You do not trust me and you are right not to. I hold no ill will toward you, Jaime Lannister. The condemnation I feel is for myself.” Clear that Inniros had no more words left to exchange, he begins his way past (y/n)’s door. He didn’t even pause as he passed by a gaping Jaime. No sound came from his footsteps but Jaime knew when he had turned the corner. The atmosphere that normally enveloped the general area when Inniros was around had disappeared.

Jaime weighed the pouch in his hand.

Thinking of Cersei.

Thinking of (y/n).

Taglist:

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[duquesah]

I've started re-watching the Venom movies recently

It got me thinking about Kayn and Rhaast's relationship in canon, and how for some odd reason Kayn is the only darkin host that wasn't corrupted immediately upon holding the weapon for the first time, and is still fighting against the corruption. Is it true that Kayn is just THAT powerful and Rhaast is the current weakest darkin? Or perhaps there's more to them than we realize?

What I think might be the case is a combination of factors mentioned previously and something else, which I'll talk about in this post so pls stay with me 🙏

Okok so, in Venom (2018) we see how Venom and Eddie meet, how at first they're really just parasite and host, but then after seeing how much they're alike Venom gives everything up. Venom was a nobody amongst the others, just like Eddie, who has lost everything previously. They achieved symbiosis because they are the same, pretty much, and they are so goddamn special that not even Riot (ha) could take them down (with some help of course, love my girl Anne).

THAT got me thinking about Hwei's voice line, the one in which he says "If you just allowed yourselves to BLEND". It's a very interesting line, we can think about some possibilities but first we discuss exactly why Kayn hasn't been corrupted yet (I know I'm rambling a bit, sorry lol)

So, it could be that he really is that powerful, he has been training since childhood (he had a pretty rough one, too). At some point Zed took him in and Kayn became a powerful weapon/tool (parallels!! Kayn being used as a weapon and Rhaast being one, literally) and with his tragic backstory and some other voice lines (this time from Swain, I believe) we know that Kayn, after all he's been through, mistakes hatred for affection, since all he knows is negative, bad things.

So Kayn is traumatized, who isn't? Well, I know for sure the darkin have a very sad past too so let's talk about them (and Rhaast, of course) next

The darkin, once ascended, fought against The Void and each other for some time. The things they've seen and been through cost them their minds, with the years they became less of who they once were, some corrupted beyond redemption and the only way to stop this war was with imprisonment, so that's what happened. Many died, with the remaining ones being sealed away in weapons. Inside their prison they cannot breathe (that's why they sound very out of breath, I was happier before knowing about that) or scream, or do anything really, it's another void, much like the first they fought.

So imagine, after years of being trapped inside a tiny space, some guy finds you and, unlike the others, there's a barrier blocking your way inside their mind. This one is different, that's for sure, but Rhaast is a darkin, he will break this host one day...

But this day seems further and further away, the barrier still strong. Could it be that Rhaast is weaker than the others, or perhaps their tactic of corrupting minds away just doesn't work on Kayn? Well, like I previously talked about, both Kayn and Rhaast have a tragic backstory. my guess is that Rhaast and the other darkin use negative emotions/memories in order to break the host's mind, the pain unbearable to them. But Kayn? Negative emotions/memories is ALL he has, all he ever had, so this method couldn't possibly be the most effective to use, right?

Kayn is stronger than most, sure, but he wasn't immediately corrupted because he is barely affected by Rhaaat's tactics, which consist of breaking the mind with bad memories and emotions, which unfortunately for him is all Kayn knows. It DOES affect him a bit, for all we know, but we can't exactly expect him to be 100% immune, he's still human 🤷‍♀️

We don't know how things are going for them currently, if anyone's winning yet. I actually don't think that's ever happening, because 1. They would break the fucking champion; 2. Is it truly a win if they're just gonna miss each other's company after? (Rhaast presumably doesn't care but that can change, I mean just look at Varus). They would be more powerful, sure, but they only have each other, and with time I think they can be stronger together, they can find a way to get what they both want AND stay together.

ANYWAY what do y'all think? I know I started talking about Venom and Eddie and ended up somewhere else entirely but I just needed to ramble about them, get some ideas in order. Also correct me if I said anything wrong lore-wise, been awhile since I've read about them

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

progress and humanity for your fellas

✧ ━━ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

Progress // Have they made any significant progress since their past deeds? Are they currently progressing? Do they want to progress? ━━ I would say so. Robin's time in Zaun was a really difficult trial that had a lot of things stacked against him from the moment he was born. Social status made it impossible to climb and lofty dreams along with his insatiability made him do some pretty intense things, and the grief. And maybe the demon but whatever. Either way, Robin has found quite a bit of peace in Ionia despite his even worse social status and repetitive lifestyle. He's met and made a lot of connections, and has even made friends and found that he's still able to care about people depite everything. @aquatic-hybrid had a massive influence on his way of seeing life, if I'm being honest, and this has led Robin to try and actually forgive himself and break out of whatever crypt he's buried himself in. He wants to leave, and eventually with the help of @hemoplagued, he does. Robin has actually gotten quite a bit healthier since I started writing him; he's still extremely unnerving and calculating, but emotionally and in turns of stability ━ he's in a way better place.

Humanity // If they're asked what 'humanity' means to them and how they would describe it, what would they answer? Do they love or hate humans? ━━ I know this is going to sound wild given how Robin is in other verses, but in his main timeline in League Robin doesn't really have any resentment towards humans? He's one and he has relationships with them. Even when he was working with Miss Glasc in Zaun he had friendships and happily went out with them! He loves the arts and tries to take as much as he can in, and art is the heart of humanity in a way. That being said, Robin isn't an idealist and he never will be, and he's well aware that for all of the good humans do they do an equal amount of bad; like - duh he was literally reviving torture victims for money? Robin, a human, made every one of his decisions; Abel simply supported those decisions, the demon never actually made of those dark choices for Robin. And Robin's well aware of it, he's also aware that none of it was personal ( or not all of it ). ━━ I think if I had to sum it up, Robin finds a majority of people very very boring. He's attracted to chaos and people smart enough to keep up with his mind games; and a lot of people just don't fit in that narrow space. Granted there's a small part of him that's extremely fond of generally good people ( looking at you @steel-and-fire ) with well meaning hearts. Which, unfortunately, are also a rare commodity.

Progress // Have they made any significant progress since their past deeds? Are they currently progressing? Do they want to progress? ━━ I don't think that Haruko necessarily thought he'd end up at the forefront of a Darkin worshipping blood cult, or being in a symbiotic relationship with one; but here he is. Haruko doesn't feel the need for any sort of redemption for his deeds, he kills any and all Noxians to keep Ionia clean and in his eyes that is a good thing. At the beginning of the Noxian invasion he lost most of what made his life worth living, and since then he's found reason to keep going, has fallen in love, has made friends, raised his beautiful and strong daughter @deathdxnces, and all of this is a huge plus to him. He's really content where he is, he still has nightmares about the war but he has a new family around him to hold him and provide him what he needs.

Humanity // If they're asked what 'humanity' means to them and how they would describe it, what would they answer? Do they love or hate humans? ━━ Haru's feelings on humans are sort of all over the place. For the most part his view of them is pretty negative, he think's they've messed up Ionia's magical grid, he knows they're what separated his family and poisoned the Wuju temples, and a majority of them are pests and cowards. However he has met his fair share of humans who have earned his respect and even his affections; but he still views them as the less common aspect of their species. He doesn't want to eradicate them, but he would prefer them to keep their distance and keep their petty wars to themselves and away from his beloved homeland.

[heredis-sanguinis]

18. does your muse suffer from nightmares? how often? what about?

19. out of everything your muse has lost/given up, which hurt the most?

Sad headcanon q’s… 

18. Does your muse suffer from nightmares? How often? What about? It is rare for Vladimir to dream vividly to remember after waking. And rarer for him to experience nightmares.

In his early 'immortal' years, he would occasionally have nightmares regarding his time spent under the Darkin. The tortures and torments he was put through would leave a deep scar on his subconscious psyche, surfacing during his dreams. Over time those dreams diminished as he came more to terms with what happened and how he ultimately survived all the ordeals.

ALTHOUGH! (and yes I know you specifically will yell at me for this, Annie dearest -cackles-) In verses where he grows close to people, and daresay form relations with, he will form night terrors of a different kind. The kind of harming and losing those closest to one's self. And with Vladimir having the violent inclinations as he does, alongside a more monstrous self that craves the destruction and carnage inflicted, it becomes a subconscious trepidation that would someday become real. Dreams of his hands stained with their sanguine essence, the life ebbed away from their eyes which lock on him. A haunting visage that could make him wake violently with short raspy gasps.

Vladimir is not a man that often or easily allows others to grow close to him, or vice versa, and with good reason for his mental self-preservation.

19. Out of everything your muse has lost/given up, which hurt the most? There is little that Vladimir regrets of losing or having to give up, because when it comes down to it, anything sacrificed brought him to the point where he is at in the current day and age. He gave up his mortality, and his humanity, to survive. To last until experiencing ends of eras, to start them anew. And he would do it all over again when presented with the same chances and opportunities.

Though, one thing he resents would be the innocence he once held within, that he lost. Not entirely, but he would have preferred to have been able to hold on to it longer than he was allowed to in his younger days.

[scarecrowwizard]

I keep thinking of Aatrox and Renekton. I'm not sure whether I ship it or if I see them as friends; all I know is that Aatrox's voiceline "In your madness, you know my suffering" towards Renekton hit me a little too hard Incomprehensible thoughts below. Sorry in advance

They served Shurima together. They probably shared laughs, maybe stupid nicknames and a few drinks. Two of the most respected Shuriman heroes, even before Renekton actually Ascended. I can imagine them talking about Nasus' illness together; they were both okay guys pre-everything (at least if memory serves correctly) so I think Aatrox would've been a good friend to Renekton during those times.

Anyway, they both fought in the Void War/battle of Icathia together. It screwed both of them up, undeniably (even Jax comments on Aatrox's trauma in one of his voice lines, and he was their enemy!). I think this is where they start drifting apart, and they both know they are. But they don't get a chance to reconcile; the whole Azir-Xerath fiasco happens and Renekton gets locked in the tomb.

The Darkin war happens, so Aatrox doesn't have a lot of time to think about Renekton for a while; and when he does have the time, he's mourning what he's become.

I don't know where I'm going with this, I'm just wondering if Renekton, even after Xerath broke his mind, would ever be able to see Aatrox and have a moment of clarity. Self-recognition through the other.

I'm not sure what'd happen after that. Maybe a conversation, maybe a fight? Or maybe just a lot of unspoken grief on both ends before they ultimately go back to bloodshed and madness as a coping mechanism. Whatever works.

[umbane]

kayn’s keening fills the cave, darkness staved off by the embers of a once sputtering fire, zed’s gaze is austere, scouring the remnants of runes, dispersed by a thrust of kayn’s bloodied hand, for answers. they had conducted this ritual innumerable times, he had felt the shadows seep from his body & fill the veins of his acolytes, a tether - attestations of their loyalty to the order. kayn should have been no different. the darkin seethes within kayn, warding off the reverent hum of the shadow with it’s own, strident fury. he was not compatible with zed’s power, it was as simple & as complicated as that.  “ we should return to camp.” he said, kayn’s anguish bit at him, wretched & despairing. “ kayn.” his name fell as an order, compelling his disciple to his feet. “ it cannot be changed.” he doesn’t relay his entire passage of thought; so long as the darkin exists within you the essences of the shadows will never be theirs to share.

This can't be happening. This can't be happening. Everything was going perfectly. He'd waited for this day ever since he learned about the entity that lived within Zed, ever since he learned of the sacred ceremony that all disciples took when they pledged themselves fully to Zed's order. Kayn was going to be one of them. He's supposed to be one of them. It's not supposed to happen like this.

But he felt it, too. He felt the darkin reject the shadow before it could enter Kayn's body. He felt the shadow recoil from him, as if he was something horrifying. Something untouchable.

His fingers dig into his hair, his body folded over itself, still kneeling on the floor with his head almost touching the stone floor. His chest heaves, his teeth grit so hard he sees stars as Rhaast chuckles in his head. OH, KAYN... WAS THAT IMPORTANT TO YOU? THAT LITTLE CREATURE? MMM... YOU'LL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT. "No," he says out loud. Then, more panicked, "No, no, no, no, no no no no no—..." How will he master the shadows like this? How could he fail Zed on such a fundamental level? "Please." He clasps his hands together, smearing blood on the opposite palm as he implores the altar. "Please, let me try again. I can do it this time." The altar doesn't reply, of course, but Kayn shuffles forwards on his knees anyways, holding his still-bleeding wrist over the bowl, like it just needs a little more blood to overcome the monster in Kayn's mind. I DON'T THINK YOU HAVE ENOUGH BLOOD IN YOUR TINY BODY FOR THAT. Nothing happens, and Kayn drops his head onto the stone and sobs.

He doesn't know how long it before Zed speaks. Back to camp? No, no, no, they have to finish what they came here for. Kayn lifts his head, dark eyes looking up at Zed, begging him to reconsider. "Master. No." Kayn, ever obedient, refuses to get off the floor. He refuses to stand and return to normal life after his life just crumbled to dust around him. "Master, please—" He shuffles forwards on his knees again, grasping Zed's hand in his bloody ones. "We have to try again. We have to. I can control it. I'll suppress it." CAN YOU? DESPERATION DOESN'T MAKE YOU STRONGER, KAYN. "Please, try again."

It cannot be changed. "No. No, no no no no no. Master." Kayn's voice breaks with desperation as a new round of tears well up and dribble down his cheeks. His hands shift from Zed's arm to his clothing, clinging to his pants and the hem of his shirt with a ferocity that he hasn't shown since he was a child in the infirmary afraid to be alone. He wails, pressing his head to Zed's thigh like that'll do anything to muffle the sobs. "Master please. I can't go back. Not without the ceremony." CAN'T YOU LIVE WITH THE SHAME? THE FAILURE? Kayn sinks lower, his forehead on the ground and his hands clinging to Zed's shin like a beggar. Like a worm. He sobs into the ground, harder than he has in years, barely able to form any words other than, "Master," and "please," and "no, no, no, no..." He howls and clings to Zed like his life depends on it, and all the while Rhaast laughs in his mind, a reminder that all his greatest failures all lead back to one ill-fated decision. WILL YOU PROVE WORTHY? Rhaast had asked him at the time, and time and time again Kayn has proved that he will not. That he never will. "Master." He weeps for all that should have been, for the joy he almost felt. "Master. I'm sorry."

[shimmerbeasts]

Nasus And Naafiri's Feelings Of Expendability

The image has been sourced from Facebook, I am afraid I do not know who the original creator is. Image is used to illustrate this headcanon.

Even though Naafiri never looked like it, she was one of the oldest recorded Ascended. The slim, black-headed, female-presenting jackal Ascended had been blessed by the sun disc, long before such greats like Nasus and Renekton had ever stepped under the powerful artefact. Naafiri was renowned for being one of the most efficient and relentless assassins the Shuriman Empire had ever seen. Many described her as a master with a knife and a being, which seemed to stand on the bridge between the living and the dead, having spookily intimate knowledge of both. Naafiri's ways of murder and disembowelment actually influenced Shurima's burial rites and would only be perfected with Nasus' ascension.

After Nasus ascended and became Azir's royal advisor, he chose to take Naafiri up as a private servant/hitwoman-for-hire. Even before Ascension, Nasus' skills in planning out battles had become legendary. He recognised Naafiri's unique skill set as an assassin and chose to utilise them for his own end. This meant that during the campaign against Icathia, Naafiri was often burdened with the task of assassinating void-borns all on her own.

Nasus had long grown to suspect that the fight in Icathia was taking a toil against the Ascended in a previously unknown way and he deeply worried what it could mean for Shurima's future. Because of these worries, he didn't just use Naafiri to gather intel about the void-born and kill the smaller ones. He also specifically studied her mind after these encounters in an attempt to understand how the void was corrupting her. If Naafiri so much as thought to protest, he reminded her with cold calcul that she should know better than him that as an Ascended, she belonged to the Empire and was expected to give her life for it.

While Nasus never stated it out loud, he signalled towards Naafiri that she was expendable. What was worse, was that this wasn't even the first time, Naafiri experienced a feeling of expendability. After Nasus had ascended, she was no longer the only jackal-headed god warrior of Shurima. And even as an assassin of legend, Naafiri paled in comparison to the 'youngest general in Shuriman history'. It also didn't help that she and Nasus looked extremely similar, with Naafiri merely being a bit sleeker in build. Because of those similarities, the Shurimans even began to confuse the two with one another, often mistaking Naafiri for Nasus. It became quickly apparent that Nasus was the one of importance, while Naafiri was condemned to live her life in the shadows, being nothing but an expendable pawn to be moved around at her Emperor's leisure.

These feelings of expandability as well as her exposure to the void from a very personal and close-up angle, which lead to Naafiri seeing horrors, not even some of her brothers and sisters could comprehend upon their fall, contributed to Naafiri's fall and turning the Ascended into a Darkin. It was why she began to fantasise about dominating and leading the Darkin. Not in a blind grab for power or out of arrogance, but out of the desperate desire to matter once in her life, to no longer be treated like she was expendable and only worth something for her talents.

At first, when Naafiri was trapped in the dune hounds' bodies before the Darkin made the choice to take them over, a lot of conflicting emotions rushed through them. While they had originally summoned the starved pack to force their unwitting vessel to wield them, subconsciously, the dune hounds had also reminded them of Nasus. This memory of Nasus and everything they had endured, from the war campaign against Icathia to their lonely imprisonment in their own dagger, made Naafiri at first resent the mere idea of possessing the dune hounds.

However, eventually, Naafiri made the choice to take the dune hounds as their own together with the resolve that they would never see their vessels as expendable. It is the reason why one of their main abilities is the ability to grow a new dune hound out of their body. The pack will never be expendable. This wish was further strengthened as Naafiri realised the power of unity, the pack exhibited and the impenetrable bonds of companionship. Naafiri's desire for the Darkin to learn to hunt as one is in a way also a rebellion against Nasus' words towards them: If they hunted as one, then this meant that not a single one of them was expendable and that they all mattered.

[bells-of-black-sunday]

Egg has me feral over our league verse we've been developing so let me ramble-

One thing me and Egg discussed heavily in terms of Tarhos was his lore and how kind of not bad, but weird it is and how it's framed. Granted I do wonder if it's because of some of the leaks we got and things being backed out of, because that has happened due to leaks before, but with him in particular it's just this weird framing of trying to make him being this big angry person who reveals in the misery and violence of others, but the way he speaks and his inner thoughts that's not the case at all.

No one who enjoys the cruelty and violence the inflict on everything around them sits there and complains about everything about it that much. The cruelty of nobles and men who preach. He is fine with it, because he doesn't lie about what he does. That sounds more like a trauma response than someone who actually enjoys it, like he knows what he's doing is bad, but it's all he knows how to do so he's not going to burden himself with the guilt. Granted I could go on and write a whole different novel about that, but I will refrain.

Generally when I made the first iteration of his league verse I thought about it for maybe 5 seconds, because as someone whose primarily a horror rp blog, I don't really keep up with l.eague lore and most big lore drops are tied to in game events that I can't participate in anyway. That being said: when I made him single ship I knew I'd have to update it at some point and after I started doing the research for Aatrox, the darkins themes really stood out to me as fitting pretty closely to how I write my Tarhos.

Being forced to get along with someone like Haru and learning how to see life through the eyes of something he'd deem lesser definitely has made him soft in the eyes of his kin, but he doesn't care. He's tired of the in-fighting, the way they lashed at each other like rabid animals instead of the proud warriors they once were. And most importantly he's not even sure if anyone else is awake. He was stuck in the sea tossed among the waves for so long he doesn't even remember.

Haruko found him during the Noxian invasion wedged in the rocks of the tidepools, broken, but calling to him and while Tarhos would be frustrated for a while they he's unable to claim the vastayan as a vessel he is well aware he is reliant on Haru if he wants to find another lest he be left alone again and he can't stand the silence anymore. Together they kill any Noxians they stumble across and Tarhos keeps him safe watching his back for any potential threats that might appear.

Becoming so in tune they can read each others thoughts and feelings as if they were one being and the darkin stops wanting to try to end the cycle of his own suffering and instead wants to live for the man he loves and cares for. He is learning how to heal and it's a slow process and the brutality of his nature still appears, but when Haru's around he's so soft. He'd do anything for that man. And that man would do anything for him.

When he does eventually get a vessel he can consume and bend to his will, he stays. Preferring to lay in the forest and let his lover worship him like the god he once was even if his meaning has been long lost and the images of the void are forever scarred into his mind. He has a place to rest now, he's no longer at war even if he still fights.

[decaeysa]

He appears much the same as he always does, with a ripple of shadow like silk sheets being tugged, but when he materializes everything is wrong. His eyes shine a bright blue, his lips are twisted into something that might have been a grin once, and his hands are blackened almost to the elbow, like he dipped them in ash. Kayn takes a step, and a moment later he's behind her, trailing his fingers — now free of Rhaast's corruption — along her shoulder and down her arm.

"Rhaast is dead," he murmurs, and something dark lives in his voice now. "I killed him myself, and now his power is mine." -- @umbane

her skin prickles at the strange touch that follows the usual journey kayn's fingers would take across her skin. she can't explain how she knows the difference [ had she no other senses to see him for what he was, she would still recognise him by touch alone ] when it is very much him, but there is a distinct strangeness to the sensation as he touches her. it's cold. not icy, but has a distinct lack of warmth that she can only chalk up to a lack of light. her eyes widen as she realises the transformation that has befallen him as well as what it means.

she fumbles for words to express the sheer shock and horror that roots her to the ground but leaves her jaw slack, mouth hanging open as no sound dares to escape her. even when he's fully materialised the shadows still cling to him -- she could swear wisps of them tangle within his hair, that his veins ripple with something other than blood under the ashen skin of his wrists.

it dawns on akali just how close they have become over the seasons : this had started as nothing more than a distraction, a social encounter that didn't drain on her as much as everything else. they'd never set out to enjoy each other's company so much as tolerate it. but they'd never turned each other away. how could she when he was the only person that actually understood her? even shen couldn't claim that.

it's near impossible to remember anything from the past few months that doesn't include him. what began with the occasional chance meeting had eventually led to more calculated affairs, and then...

" shieda. "

she doesn't want to think any more.

no matter what he's become, it's still him.

right?

her gaze meet his new eyes, desperate to find something she recognises in the empty coldness. the distinct lack of humanity in them scares her more than the accursed red that rhaast had given him. even that felt more human than this...

a hand lifts as though she's about to rest it upon his jaw but she falters -- she doesn't know why. she's happy for him, or at least that what she desperately keeps telling herself. he's no longer struggling, but ionia doesn't seem to be in any less danger now that the darkin has gone. now it just faces a new threat.

a threat she's chosen to ignore this entire time.

she steps back to free herself of his touch and the chill that surrounds him.

" I'm proud of you. "

and she is. of course she is. he's no longer suffering, no longer fighting a battle that no human could wish to face. she's been with him through some of his worst moments, held his hand through even the most painful of nights. no one in their right mind could ever wish for him to suffer for even a minute more, to watch him fight for control of his own body -- away from a darkin no less.

but what is one person's suffering compared to that of many? there's no denying the danger that presents itself before her.

fear turns to anger inside her chest, her body and mind transmuting the foreign emotion into something that she understands. something she can use. akali shakes her head -- half in disbelief, half scolding herself for letting herself get so close to one of them.

" so... so fucking proud of you. "

further steps are taken away from him, fingertips shakily resting on the hilt of her weapon. there's no way she can fight him now. there's no use in it. no one knows where she is or what she's found. it doesn't stop her, doesn't calm the fire that burns her throat. tears burn her eyes but she can't look away.

" you did it, kayn! now you're zed's perfect weapon. the shadow order's finest, the thing they're going to use to tear ionia apart. "

[sxlemnity]

9, 15, 21, 23, 27, 30, 35

9 -

Elaine wants to be seen as a friendly face. She tries her best to, at all times, be kind and compassionate even in the face of cruelty because she knows the world is a dark place and she wants to make it better in any way she can.

15 -

It depends on what it's about, typically. Things like where she's going and approaching people? She's quick to decide in most cases given her overall lack of fear. After all, there's few things that could hurt her more than the thing around her neck, so why even be worried?

21 -

Despite the amount of agony this woman endures, she... Rarely cries, in all honesty. It's hard to cry about something that she's used to. Most often when she cries it is because she is afraid in some way- Usually of someone finding out about her past and her magic. Or losing someone she cares about.

23 -

Elaine's political views are very simple.

She believes that all people have a right to life and comfort, no matter the circumstances of their birth. For that reason, she genuinely dislikes places like Demacia and Piltover.

I actually desperately want a Noxian AU for Elaine because of this. She doesn't ascribe to the whole "power is everything" portion of their beliefs, but she does agree with everyone being able to make something of themselves, if they try.

27 -

A sinful little habit... Elaine listens to everything going on around her for various reasons. Trauma, alertness, and a shred of self-preservation (the only one she has really). This leads to her knowing a lot about people very quickly. She enjoys learning about people like this, in a way, because they never have to see or speak to her for her to hear their stories.

30 -

Elaine doesn't see anyone as worse than or below her. At most, she will recognize someone as a threat and she'll try to run. But other than that? Everyone starts on equal footing. This includes monstrous looking people, such as Shadow Isles denizens, voidtouched, those afflicted by darkin, etc.

35 -

Elaine's number one pet peeve is people thinking it is alright to just... Pick the tiny woman up for fun. People seem to disrespect her boundaries pretty often because she is small, and they do it either for a laugh or to move her out of their way instead of just asking. She hates it, and it makes her angry faster than anything.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt.7

Pairing: Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Warning: changing povs, MC POV

Words:2035

Summary: Finally, after almost a year of traveling through Essos, you and Jaime reach Volantis.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6    Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21  Part 22 Part 23  Part 24  Part 25  Part 26 Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35  Part 36  Part 37  Part 38  Part 39   Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Inniros hisses, ghost white hands clawing at his back where the Red Priestess had whipped him. Searing hotk, far worse than any lashing he had felt for it was dealt by a worshipper of the Lord of Light. His entire back was hot, throbbing to the point where he wanted to rip his skin off. Why had she interfered? He had her. His task could have already been done with.

Baring his teeth, he rocks forward; anything to ease the torture.

Lord of Light.

He glares at the simple candle he had lit, the shadows formed and flickered on the walls of his temporary room. Willing his shadows to snuff it out, they wiggled and quaked; unable to go against the light. A bead of sweat trailing down his temple, Inniros huffs. If any of his cohorts from the Golden Company saw him now, they wouldn’t believe him to be the same person. Like a god among them, Inniros had gained fame and rank in what seemed like over night. Of course they wouldn’t know his one weakness.

R’hllor.

For the longest time Inniros had vehemently denied the connection of his ability with that of the fiery faith.

Despite his master insisting that he must respect the duality of the relationship. It was so easy to get drunk on the power of shadow binding.

Now it was clear though.

Inniros catches his reflection in the mirror, as dim as it was. One lone blue eye glaring back at him. An eye that painfully reminded him of his mother. At least the thought of her dulled the pain he was feeling.

What would she think of him now? A killer for hire. Delving deeper and deeper into his shadow art.

Fingers limp on his back, he remembers how tenderly his mother took care of him when he got hurt. Everything else about Asshai may have been tough but not her. She had never belonged there.

“Don’t cry.”

“I miss my mom.” Little Inniros pathetically wipes at his overflowing eyes. “I want my mom.”

“She’s beyond you now, boy.” His Master was always quick to scold. Burly and wearing a mask like many did in Asshai, he would pick up Inniros by the back of his shirt and pull him off his feet. “Unless you want me to throw you in the grave with her.”

What else was a little boy to do but suck up his tears and bury his sadness. Shadows replaced all sorrow. They ate away any emotion until he was a shell.

It was all worth it.

Testing his back, Inniros picks up his dragonglass blade.

There was no resting until the girl was dead.

** “Darkin? Be serious (y/n).” Jaime scoffs, relaxing in his hammock. He was keeping you company in the small cabin below as you were prone to serious sea sickness. It wouldn’t be long until you reached Volantis.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep the nausea at bay, you place a hand over your mouth. “I am being serious, Jaime. Sirvart was with me. She saw him too. They aren’t just stories. What, dragons are easy to believe but not darkin?”

“The documentation of dragons is a well studied one. There’s the bones in King’s Landing. There’s proof. Darkin? Just tales that mom used to tell us.”

“You shouldn’t be so quick to reject their existence.” Alizah pipes in. She sat perfectly still on the floor next to you. Her eyes filled with stars staring at nothing in particular. “If you’re this credulous, then you might have a hard time when we reach Volantis.”

Shifting, Jaime narrows his eyes at the blind priestess. “What do you mean? Does this have to do with Thalina?”

Alizah nods. “Of course. She set the stage for everything.”

Leaning closer, Jaime persists. “So? What’s the big secret? Why is it so important for (y/n) to go to the Red Temple in Volantis?”

This makes her laugh. “This one asks a lot of questions!”

You smile, teasing your brother as well. “He sure does.”

Laughter dies as Alizah sighs. It was so eery how her eyes seemed to be looking at you despite her not possessing sight. “What did Thalina tell you of R’hllor?”

“Just an outline. . . Azor Ahai, the Long Night. . . She didn’t really get into details. We had just started discussing it before- well before everything went down.” You didn’t want to think of Thalina’s death. It still made you sad thinking of how she died. Thalina didn’t deserve any of it. At a time when you didn’t have any friends, she had been your constant companion.

“We believe that one day Azor Ahai will come back to us in the form of another.” You heard Jaime scoff again but you chose to ignore it. “There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. A warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before them.”

“That’s a lovely story.” Practically hearing Jaime’s eyes roll in his statement.

“Jaime. Don’t be rude.”

“What does this story have anything to do with my sister? Or are you all just a bunch of religious freaks trying to convert us?”

Groaning you knew there was no stopping Jaime’s mouth. When he disagreed with something he always voiced it. There was no muzzling him.

None of this bothered Alizah though as she continued to smile. “A prophecy was foreseen long ago. One that pertained to when Azor Ahai reborn would come back. Those of us who are lucky enough can read flames. These flames can make predictions as well. Thalina was just beginning to show promise when she had a vision. Of you. A little mouse stuck in a den of lions.”

You remembered back in King’s Landing. Moments when you would be mesmerized by the flames in your fireplace. How they danced in such a way that could be mistaken for an image. And your dreams. . . The dreams you had had in your poison induced sleep.

“(y/n), Thalina believed you to be Azor Ahai reborn.”

Deathly silent.

Until Jaime jumped out of his hammock, anger bright in his wildfire eyes. “That’s it?! That’s why we left Westeros because some crazy girl thought she saw my sister in a fire? We came out here for nothing!”

“Ja-”

“No (y/n).” He snapped and you knew best to let him vent. Jaime glared at Alizah. “You’re all crazy.”

“And why do you think that?” Alizah hummed, unphased by his outburst. She’s picking at the hem of her sleeve. “You sound scared.”

That made him bare his teeth. “I fear nothing. Look at her! Does she look like a prophet to you?”

Maybe you should have been offended. You saw where your brother was coming from though. You could use a sword but not very well; still possessing baby fat in your cheeks and an unintimidating atmosphere around you.

“You’re right.” Alizah flicks her eyes to you. “She doesn’t look like a prophet. She looks like a hero.”

He throws his hands up. “That’s it. (y/n), we’re getting off of this fucking boat.”

“I can hear you yelling all the way up deck.” Comes Sirvart’s grumble. “What’s going on down there?”

“Tell the captain to dock immediately. We’re getting out of here and going back to Westeros!”

Ducking her head inside, Sirvart’s eyes challenge your brother. “Westeros? You won’t even make it to Westeros with that darkin after (y/n). Even if you did what makes you think Westeros would be best for her? People obviously want her dead over there. Do you really want to take her back to that environment just because you have faith in nothing.” Sirvart easily blocks the way out with her lethal body. “You made a promise to Thalina. Regardless if you believe any of this. Or are you going back on that vow too? Yes, we know of your relationship with your twin sister. Alizah reads the flames as easily as one would read a book. Will you forsake (y/n) again in favor of Cersei?”

You meet Jaime’s conflicted eyes. In there was the longing to go back. To go back to Cersei. Clashing against his desire to keep you safe and do right by you. Sirvart took the silence as her answer. Craning her head up, she sighs. “We’re almost there. Go ahead and don’t believe us. Know that we only want to keep (y/n) safe. That has always been our goal.” Creaking back up the wooden steps, she leaves the three of you in a heavy quiet.

Everything sounded insane, too wild to believe. You were supposed to be some sort of warrior reborn. That was the last thing you would ever call yourself.

With a lowered voice, Alizah says “The darkin is the least of our worries. One day you’ll return to Westeros. When you do you’ll have to face the real threat. You may not be a warrior yet, but give it time.”

Your head spun and not due to the slight rocking of the boat. It was a lot to take in and so many things were starting to connect. This couldn’t just be a coincidence that your dreams and experiences seemed to match with what Alizah had said.

Jaime flops onto the floor, head in his hands. “This is crazy. Absolutely crazy.”

Tenderness makes Alizah’s face look sad. “Yes it is. But that’s life. Crazy and unbelievable at times.”

Curling into yourself, you close your eyes and try not to think of the mayhem that was to me when you reached Volantis. You had been so excited about reaching the end of your journey. Now though? There was suddenly a high expectation thrust upon you. One that you couldn’t possibly live up to.

Now you actually wanted to go back to Westeros. To show Rhaegar that you still lived and still loved him. He never expected anything from you. He just wanted you to be happy.

You didn’t want to be a prophet, or a hero, or Azor Ahai.

You just wanted to go home.

“Port up ahead!” The captain’s booming voice traveled easily down below.

This was it.

Alizah perked up, excited to be back home. How long had she been waiting in Volon Therys for you? The journey through out Essos had taken you about a year. To be away from your home for so long must have been hard.

Heading up to the deck you felt immense trepidation. Had this really been a mistake?

Covering your eyes from the sun you look out to the city of Volantis, ancient yet still standing like a giant.

Then you heard it. The cheers coming from the dock. No one could mistake it for anything else.

A large group of people stood waiting. Cheering, for you. They cried out your name. Filling the sunny sky with only your name as your boat drew closer. Men and women crowded one another at a chance to catch a glimpse of you. You and Jaime share a glance of utter astonishment while Alizah clapped her hands together and said something in a language you didn’t know.

“They come for you.” Sirvart’s smile is wide, finding entertainment in your large, gawking eyes. “You are who we have been waiting for, for thousands of years. Our champion, our Azor Ahai reborn.”

In Jaime’s eyes, you saw it. The realization of what all this meant. The truth in it all. Someone he had always seen as a little sister. A foolish, naive, girl. . . She was indeed seen as a savior to many. She was someone. Important and immediately adored.

They cried out in Valyrian, a chanting choir; a hymn that they happened to know by heart.

“Hen se perzyssy.” From the fires she has risen.

“Se egros mazemilzi.” The sword she will claim.

“Ilva kosh bona R’hllor eza kivio.” Our princess that was promised.

“Azor Ahai sigligon.”

Azor Ahai reborn.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

Because I know we talked about it but also because I know it's smthn u enjoy thinking about: How much has Tarhos corrupted Haru and how much of it is just the darkin is a God, corrupted as he may be, that actually answered his prayers unlike the others?

✧ ── 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 LEAGUE VERSE

Something that makes Haruo and Tarhos' relationship unique is, at least to me, their joined mindspace - while Rhaast and Kayn can communicate telepathically and can read eachother it is still two separate beings bickering with one another. For Haruko and Tarhos the line is much more blurred; they experience eachother's feelings and desires, hear each single thought and even have shared dreams. They are less "two people in one body" and much more "one person in two bodies" in terms of how they can communicate with eachother, I mean technically if we wanted to get really into it we could debate about how there is no true unified "self" but rather a fractaling recursion of self-repeating selves - think about how your conscience talks to you in your own voice or how you ask yourself questions and you answer them - that. Its incredibly complicated to try to explain in a tumblr post but that is how, for myself at least, Haru and Tarhos operate. Tarhos and Haru can hear the other one talking and know its not them doing it but it still feels like their own thought. I hope that makes sense because it's only going to get worse from here -

While that isn't necessarily the question I do think its an important thing to distinct when speaking about them; before Tarhos found a vessel they basically acted as a singular unit anyway - I doubt that mindset would change much once he took over the dragon in Ionia. So, beginning with that I'm going to continue on and say that I don't think Haru was "corrupted" so much as he was validated. Before the Noxian invasion Haruko was most likely living peacefully in Bahrl with his village and family, there was tension between Vastayans and Humans as always but he didn't go out comitting murder for fun. He just simply did not interact with them or care enough to - and I really don't think he cared about or even knew about Noxus. Based on that alone we can see a distinct difference from the past to present, and I do think that has a large chunk to do with Tarhos. Darkin are PTSD ridden forgotten Gods whose last moments feeling sunlight were surrounded by the rise of the Void, and the fall of Azir along with the Empire of Shurima - and when Haruko first found Tarhos, the blade was eager for bloodshed and violence.

Upon first contact their minds partially merged, Haru's strength of spirit was able to dominate and shackle back Tarhos' possession of him for the most part, but not completely. The battle was fought and Haruko fled having lost practically everything within a single day by an unknown force that brutalized without mercy - which I'm sure is an event Tarhos can understand way too well. This is where the validation and mind-merging come into play; even if Tarhos did not actively say anything to Haru at that time, Haru can still feel what Tarhos is and vice versa. Within Tarhos' own bloodlust and hatred towards the Void Haru felt validated and correct in his anger and immediate dehumanization of Noxians; seeing them as a plague to Ionia much like the Void is a plague to Shurima. Once the mind has decided to dehumanize it is very easy for people to fall into acts of violence without any reprise or guilt over them; its happened many a time throughout history and is still happening today. And that is very hard to change once its cemented, particularly through a place of deeply rooted trauma which resulted in a cultural and territorial genocide. One of which the very land has still not healed from.

Haru does view Tarhos as a God too - he is one - and to have those views validated and reaffirmed by something so universally larger than him screams to him that he is correct. Tarhos didn't have any bit of a healthy mindset when they originally met, they were both spiteful and livid at the world around them - and violence always breeds violence, anger breeds anger etc. With Tarhos healing though it does leave an actively larger question regarding that original validation; does it still hold as much as it should? Haru hates Noxians so much and frankly would be fine if they were eradicated, but that seems a very sharp shift for a creature thats lived in relative peace for 300+ years. Anger is often a mask we wear to hide things we're not ready to face yet, its the brain defending itself from whatever ugly can of worms needs to be opened but will really really hurt when it eventually does.

In short, Haru has found comfort, validation, and solace in a bloodthirsty God which reaffirms his fury and approves of it - he isn't getting any help for the legitimate reasons he's like this - and until he does there won't be any end to it. I don't think he was corrupted, I think Tarhos' just helped pour gasoline ontop of a small fire and both of them let it explode without really thinking about the consequences afterwards or why the fire was there to begin with.

[maybebovinity]

When a Crime Lord becomes a Baker [Aatrox/Pantheon] CHAPTER 2

Read on Ao3

1 / 2

ESPRESSO BROWNIES

Cupcakes were tiring to make. Their scientific formula for perfection was so intricate Atreus was certain that somewhere a Piltovian Professor was writing novels worth of research papers on The Perfect Cupcake. And if there wasn't anyone dedicating themselves to such a worthy cause, he would be sure to send Aphelios over and rethink his college degree in favour of blessing Atreus with the knowledge not even the divines would bestow upon him.

It was because of this mind-wrecking science that Atreus gave up on baking perfect cupcakes in favour of resorting to something that required no thought: brownies. He knew Soraka would have something to say about it, but right now Atreus could not bring it upon himself to think too hard on the exact measurements of sugar to flour ration to birth a new set of cupcakes.

In truth he was panicking: ever since his application got approved and his new employee got announced, he began rethinking all of his life choices. He considered revoking his application, but of course, the divines wanted him dead because just as he was about to abort the mission did the details concerning his monetary compensation come through. Having the Darkin Lord, Aatrox, as his employee meant that Atreus could open up a bakery in every single region and still have enough to take a year or two off.

And when he announced this good news to Soraka the next day she did not hold back the gory details of everything she managed to learn about Aatrox:

"Did you know that Aatrox is responsible for almost fifty deaths alone in his first year of establishing the Darkin? They say it's the most gruesome killings they have seen since the last Shuriman war."

"Did you know that Aatrox never hid away the Darkin base? But even if anyone tried to intervene they would become part of the public executions. Sometimes they held the executions right outside the base. No one knows if Aatrox catches these people alone or if the Darkin is secretly an army of brainwashed Shuriman soldiers."

"Did you know that once the Darkin managed to get so close to the Emperor that they had to double the Shuriman special forces number which resulted in a new record of militia depression and suicidal rates?"

It was when Soraka decided to impart her knowledge about the killing methods of the Darkin that Atreus finally had enough and forbade her from filling the candy jar for two days. This quickly made her keep her knowledge to herself, which also meant that she spent the next two days sulking and throwing longing looks at the candy jar (only missing the top layer since Zoe came in that morning). But as the days passed and fewer and fewer cupcakes were being made, it finally came to the day that Aatrox was supposed to arrive. That morning Atreus came in earlier than usual; a steaming box of espresso brownies burning against his palms as he hesitated to put it down; putting it down meant that the day had to begin. For the day to begin meant that Aatrox would arrive.

Someone rapped against the glass door and he whipped around to find a Soraka in her frilly apron waving energetically. Leaving the brownies to their fate on the counter, Atreus went to greet her and close the door firmly behind her. One would have thought reinstalling a new door meant it was also good quality, but when you only have one repairman in town you can hardly complain about anything.

"You know you can leave your apron here."

"I know." was all she said without further explanation. She walked happily over to the counter as the smell of brownies already began to travel to the door. She opened the box and sighed in delight as the aroma of bitter roast escaped.

"Why didn't you make espresso cupcakes?" She picked up a brownie and took a bite. Her eyes closed and she hummed a happy tune. Atreus couldn't stop the soft smile at her content expression; he enjoyed it when Soraka liked his goods. As obsessed as she is with strange foods, she did not settle for anything less than perfection.

"I'm getting tired of cupcakes."

"Well then, let's hope The Darkin Lord Sir Aatrox likes brownies!" to hear Soraka mention the man only made Atreus frown as panic began to well up again. He was not afraid of dangerous people, being military trained himself, but he feared losing everything. It was foolish to think that Aatrox would come as an obedient man willing to please everyone around him; in fact, it was very possible that the man would take any opportunity to escape and wreak havoc on the small town. They had law enforcement, but no one in Mount Targon ever had to deal with someone this dangerous. At least not in a long time.

"Let's hope he likes anything at all."

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

The sun rose and a few stragglers began to wander the streets. It was a weekday, meaning no children or teenagers would wander near the store. That also meant that no one has come in the past two hours.

Which also meant…

"Hey, Atreus!" Soraka called from the back. He abandoned his task of rearranging the display case and went to see what she was yelling about. Inside the kitchen, she held out the wall-mounted phone with flour-covered fingers. A splash of banana bread batter was on her forehead. "Leona says it's urgent."

He took the phone and was about to greet the woman, but she gave him no time:

"By the sun! He's coming over right now!" Her frantic voice was unnatural to hear and at first, the words hit him like a comet. Atreus opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He vaguely registered Soraka leaving the kitchen to manage the front of the store. He still hasn't told her about the batter.

"How do you-" he managed to get out, but Leona quickly cut him off as Diana shouted something behind her: "Don't worry about it. They're driving and they left like two minutes ago. He's huge! Diana and I-"

Soraka interrupted them with a mischievous smile. Atreus put down the phone and turned to her knowing exactly what she would say. She opened her mouth to make the announcement, but he held up his hand to stop her and took a deep breath.

"First, you have batter on your forehead. Second, do not offer him your banana doughnuts," she frowned in protest as she wiped at the almost dry batter. The door was slightly ajar behind her and Atreus spotted two massive figures waiting impatiently. He took a deep breath before continuing in a pleading tone, "And please, do not aggravate him. If a hand of rebellious teenagers can smash this place, imagine what he can do."

Soraka crossed her arms and pouted: "What if he likes banana doughnuts?"

There was no hope.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

In the dining area of the bakery stood the Darkin Lord himself: Aatrox. He was large in almost all aspects: he towered over everything in the small shop. He was not as broad as Taric, but rather taut and powerful muscle could be seen underneath his obviously issued civilian clothes. Not even improper-sized t-shirts could hide the dangerous strength the man possessed. Atreus was confident enough to say that Aatrox never had to look up at anyone in his entire life, maybe he was born a giant.

He was dressed so casually that if Atreus did not have his mugshot on hand he would never have realised who Aatrox was. Atreus dared to finally make eye contact with the man; albeit through the crack of the door, only to see the criminal glaring straight at him. His features were sharp and mean, and the intense blackness of his irises did not help to soften anything.

Spotted, Atreus finally stepped out to greet his new employee and…

"You must be Atreus!" said not Aatrox, but the man accompanying him. His voice was loud and had a strange accent to it. He too was large and tall, but where Aatrox stood taut with agile muscles this man had nothing but pure (as Zoe would call it) beef. Atreus vaguely wondered what they fed people outside of Mount Targon for them to grow to such sizes; not even Taric was native to the mountain.

"Um, yes." Atreus finally replied, trying his best to avoid the intense glare still set on him. The stranger gave a smile so big it would make Zoe jealous. "I'm Sett! I'm this guy's bodyguard and here to stop any trouble." he smashed his fists together with a wink before giving a hearty laugh.

A bodyguard. Someone the Immortal Bastion trusted well enough to protect the small town from Aatrox. It did not ease Atreus' mind at all. The baker stepped out from behind the counter and held out his hand to the bodyguard, Sett, who took it with vigour. They shared a handshake filled with testosterone before Atreus was forced to acknowledge the very person he dreaded meeting.

Craning his head upwards, he held out his hand to Aatrox, "Welcome to the Golden Bakery. I hope the next few weeks won't bore you to death." The man stared at the baker's hand for an uncomfortably long time. Realising that the gesture won't be returned Atreus retracted his hand and motioned to the display case.

"Have you eaten? I have savoury goods too if you don't have a sweet tooth-"

"-We have banana doughnuts!" Exclaimed Soraka as she finally left the kitchen. A tray of freshly baked banana doughnuts rested on her gloved hands. They looked cursed, and the smell alone crinkled Atreus' nose. Before he could stop her, she hopped over to the Aatrox and Sett and held out the tray with a large smile: "It's a family recipe! I cannot be held responsible for any ailments you may or may not contract."

Sett made a sound of amazement and took one of the doughnuts. Aatrox only continued to glare down at Atreus, not even acknowledging the woman trying to use him as a guinea pig. Soraka frowned before grabbing the man's hand and depositing a doughnut into his large palm. Atreus jerked forward to pull her away and Sett suddenly stood ready to intercept any violence Aatrox was prepared to unleash, but their worry was for nought because the man only alternated his glare between the doughnut and Soraka before deciding that the doughnut was the offender.

Atreus still tugged Soraka back and cautiously observed his new employee as he made the final decision of eating the doughnut. Atreus wanted to protest, certain that Soraka's horrid recipes were enough to begin a war, but Aatrox only swallowed the offender. His lip twitched and he dusted his hand off his jeans. "Are bananas a favourable taste here?" These were the first words to come out of Aatrox The Darkin Lord himself.

There was a brief silence before Soraka beamed and took a deep breath to begin her tangent on how difficult it was to obtain quality bananas on the mountain, however, she knew a friend who knew a friend, who had a friend somewhere in a little village in Shurima that specialised in growing the sweetest bananas. Atreus quickly pulled her behind him to stop her before she could even start and gave an uncertain look to Sett. The bodyguard shrugged which really meant nothing at all.

Soraka finally quieted down and noticed for the first time the tension between her boss and her new colleague. Atreus, deciding that Soraka has done enough damage, cleared his throat and addressed Aatrox again, "I'm sure working in a bakery is not something you're excited about. You'll probably work in the kitchen most of the time and, um, Soraka would appreciate the extra help."

Aatrox gave a low thoughtful hum. His intense frown has not left his face once. It was amazing how the man managed to fit almost every stereotype of a Shurminan criminal: head cleanly shaved to make way for an intricate set of tattoos slightly trespassing onto his face (if Atreus looked closely enough they almost appeared to be metallic horns), scars on his eyebrows indicated confiscated jewellery and deep scars drew attention to his pitch-black eyes. What truly gave away his profession was the brand on his neck: the Noxian sigil.

"We don't get a lot of customers," Atreus continued. "Targon is a pretty small place so it's difficult to draw anyone in if you don't have a good rep."

Aatrox crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "You have a soiled image?" He asked, his voice thick with an accent. The question caught Atreus off guard as he failed to realise what he revealed. Flustered he held up his hands in defence of his character.

"Small towns don't like military folk. Too many problems apparently."

The criminal observed him momentarily before giving a curt nod, "Let us begin then. Show me your operations."

Soraka was tasked with managing the front of the store as the three men made their way to the kitchen. Atreus realised that a kitchen housed many weapons and faltered when he showed the man the utensils and their usages.

"I was told you're prohibited from using anything that can act as a weapon." Atreus began carefully. Aatrox said nothing but Sett gave another one of his hearty laughs, "Don't worry 'bout that shit. This guy won't touch a thing unless he knows who made it."

The words meant nothing to the baker, but Aatrox's disinterest in the knives made him question the sanity levels of everyone involved in this mess. He observed the man some more as he moved around the small kitchen with sharp eyes. So far he was nothing like the stories Atreus heard from others; a large giant with a bellowing voice as he slaughtered whoever tries to cross his path. In fact, the man who stood in front of him was rather… collected. If not for the tattoos, Atreus was sure to mistake him for another tourist.

"Um, I'll work with you this week in the kitchen. Have you ever baked?" Atreus asked. The man stopped in his steps and gave a thoughtful look.

"The Bastion's restrictions do not permit me from nearing  anything  of dangerous value." His strange way of speaking was somewhat unsettling, but from what Atreus knew it was a Shuriman thing; always being so careful with the words they spoke.

"Then you can be on packaging duty. Unless you know how to kill someone with a paper box, I'm sure it'll be fine."

The criminal's lips twitched at the words and he released a deep sigh, "I've killed men with less."

Sett laughed, but Atreus hardly felt comforted as Aatrox continued to dig into his soul with those abyssal eyes. He couldn't look away, and for a moment he wondered if it was the last thing others saw before dying by his hand.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

Not soon enough, the clock struck 4 o'clock and Soraka sighed as she undid her frilly apron. Her closing-up routine began with checking the candy jar. The top layer was still missing, but nothing more as Zoe failed to drop by that day. She had to take her puppy to the vet and possibly planned on coddling him for the entire day. Next came cleaning the counter, which hardly got dirty with the low traffic rate. However, Soraka always made sure to give it a good wiping down before checking on the dates of the goodies in the display rack; anything older than 3 days were a no-go for Atreus who prided himself on always having fresh goods. Only a recently expired pie was removed.

Soraka never managed to the cash register, only because Atreus liked doing so in the early mornings before she arrived. The scattered tables were clean, the floors were clean, and there was no trash anywhere to be found. So with only the expired apple pie, she made her to the kitchen where she heard the hearty laugh of the bodyguard, Sett.

Inside she found Atreus finishing up wiping down a counter and her new coworker gently stacking newly folded boxes on each other. Sett was lounging in the corner and clearly bemused by the scene in front of him, or perhaps it was something that happened before she had the chance to witness it.

"I closed up." she announced as she made her way to the large disposal bin to throw away the apple pie. Atreus looked up and gave a firm nod, "Did Zoe come today?" he asked.

Soraka shook her head in answer to which Atreus only sighed. "Remind me to go to her place tomorrow. The dog biscuits are going to go stale by this rate." 

She barely acknowledged his request as she slipped over to her new coworker's side to observe his work for the day: stacked against the wall were well over one hundred neatly folded boxes. Once she was tasked with the tedious chore and only managed to do around ten until she declared defeat and threatened Atreus with slipping in her personal recipes if he didn't do it for her. However, she never expected The Darkin Lord Aatrox to be such a good employee. Giving a wide smile to her new coworker, she patted him on the arm, "Well look at you! If it wasn't for you leaving in a few weeks I would be worrying about losing my job."

Atreus scoffed from his side in the kitchen. Aatrox turned to glare at them. The two held each other's gaze for an uncomfortably long time until Sett cleared his throat. The beefy bodyguard strutted over to his charge and began digging into his pockets. "Can't have him sneaking weapons around now can we." He explained as he continued his search.

"These kitchen playthings are hardly worthy of my skill." Aatrox sneered. Soraka wondered if the man was always so... dramatic? theatrical? clearly out of touch with normal conversation patterns?

Satisfied, Sett pulled his hands back and tipped his head in Atreus' direction, "Well then. We'll be off for the night. What time should we come in tomorrow?"

"Um, around six should be fine."

Aatrox crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at his employee, "To stand idle until a living being enters?"

Atreus glared at the man and walked up to him, or at least dared to get as close as possible An entire two Setts could have fit in between them. Soraka watched with amusement as Atreus dared to point a threatening finger at the man, "You can hardly judge my business when you haven't been here a full day. Never mind that I barely put you out on display in the front."

"And why not? If I am deemed the most fearsome man on this mountain then I pity all of you."

Sett sensing that tensions were escalating stepped in and carefully slipped on a pair of handcuffs (more like shackles) around Aatrox. Without a proper farewell, the two left the meagre bakery and possibly to Leona and Diana's inn. The kitchen was silent. Soraka turned when Atreus moved behind her; his cheeks were red and he removed to make eye contact as he furiously cleaned the counters.

"So~ How was it? Were you two fighting the whole time?"

"No. He barely spoke a word until you came in. That man is nothing but a death wish. Why the hell did I agree to this?" He said helplessly. The cloth never stopped scrubbing. 

Soraka hoisted herself onto a clean counter and idly kicked her feet in thought. She hasn't known Atreus for long, only as long as his bakery was open which was only about four years. Before then he didn't live on the mountain. From what she heard he was shipped off somewhere for military duties, but if he actually fought battles and saw blood was nothing she knew off. Only that his travels were the only reason he met Leona, and the only reason he ever came back to the town. And from what little Leona dared to speak of Atreus has never been one for friends. And in a town as small as theirs, anything beyond friends was almost impossible to have unless you became the annual gossip.

An idea sparked then; not a good idea, but one she could easily discuss with Leona and Diana.

Motivated, she jumped off the counter and curtsied, "Well then, my gracious employer. Allow me to escort myself home~"

"Don't you start speaking like that thug now."

"Whatever do you mean my good man?"

A wet rag sailed across her shoulder.

"Go home Soraka. Come in tomorrow at six, same as them."

But she won't be going home.  

[goldlightwriting]

A big problem is League trying to make ever little thing in League connected but then ignoring plot threads for ever because they have around 150 to pay attention go and no one can just be given lore if someone feels like it it has to be asked.

See what happened to the Darkin going from a cool race of mysterious beings into what they are now.

Probaly because Riot gives its lore team so few opportunities to world build they have to kill two birds with one stone as it where.

The lore team at Riot notoriously gets shafted by the higher-ups who only want to focus on the most popular Champions and even now have apparently forbidden any major lore developments not made by their entertainment division, which means that stories surrounding these characters have slowed to crawl.

I don't think the issue is making everything connected, though. The issue is that Riot tends to connect things poorly or not in the obvious way you would expect. For the millionth time, my stance that the Darkin should just be demons because they functionally are in everything but name remains unchanged. As much as I love Twilight of the Gods, everything about the Ascended Host we have feels so disconnected from the actual Ascended storyline. Why do NONE of the Darkin have any form of interaction with Xerath, Azir, Nasus or Renekton?

The beef the Darkin have with the Aspects actually works perfectly for the demon storyline because the Aspects are already confirmed to have beef with demons, supposedly being responsible for sealing away the Ten Kings (Zoe has Fiddlesticks' key and Ashlesh was imprisoned by some gods/heavenly entities.) I mean, really, the Ten Kings/Urdemons are basically a repeat of the original Darkin concept when you think about it; ominous, mysterious beings we know almost nothing about scattered across Runeterra.

It's the same general issue with some animal people being vastaya and some not. Rather than have these two things that are functionally the same premise done twice, why not just tie them together to make the world feel more cohesive? Not EVERYTHING needs to be connected, but some things definitely should.