pulsefireparadox

[pulsefireparadox]

whoever made this fanfiction GET YOUR ASS UP AND MAKE A NEW CHAPTER. WHAT DO YOU MEAN LAST UPDATED IN 2022 https://archiveofourown.org/works/36388876/chapters/90724867

[pulsefireparadox]

girl idgaf anymore !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i made this https://archiveofourown.org/series/3553156

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The fateful day comes.

After months, years even, of gentility and leisure, Renekton is quelling down.

The days he spent at the palace where Azir put him are the most pleasant he can remember. He lounges in the gardens, fights whenever he has to take something out, and the treatments and perfumes are a comfort setting.

And one day the choice comes to embrace his brother.

They’ve seen each other in the past, through the enchanted glass that has been installed. They held hands. They’ve long spoken. Nasus played song after song for him. Seeing him and coexisting with him is slowly turning into routine once more.

Embracing each other is the final step.

“Only if you’re ready, dearest uncle. His pain is great still.” Azir tells him.

Once Renekton slipped his arms through the bars of the window and strangled Nasus until guards came to his rescue. He took it out on himself, hitting his head and slamming his snout on the walls.

But it was also a long time ago.

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Bring him here already. I want to smash that snout in a hug.”

And Nasus comes at last.

He wears a padded outfit to protect himself, there’s a vial of narcotic and a small blunt parrying dagger at the back of his belt, and guards stand by unseen.

Azir waits behind a column, sweating cold.

“Brother… dearest.”

“It’s me, Renekton. It’s me. Come close, if you like.”

Renekton raises his hand, allowing Nasus to touch his. Hands of fur into hands of scale.

“Can I hold you, brother?”

“Yes, Ren. You can. As long as y-“

But Nasus is cut off by Renekton squeezing him so tight he reaches for the vial for a moment. Yet the brotherly warmth of Renekton grounds him, tears bubble up and down his face, and the Butcher’s strong arms keep him near.

“I’m sorry, Nasus. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you, honey… oh, come here.”

Nasus covers his snout in kisses and tears, holds him tighter and loose again when he realizes he may choke him, and Renekton too weeps of sorrow.

It’s done.

The last of Xerath’s seeds is ripped.

Azir sighs in relief behind the column. He’s seen Nasus self-flagellate about Renekton’s state enough already. This moment is the best he could have wanted.

Then Renekton’s voice raises.

“Where’s Azir, my golden boy?”

Nasus wipes his face. “Come here, baby bird. Come to us.”

And Azir does. Slowly, savoring the moment, in the beautiful twilight of Shurima.

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“I build homes”

Azir has found a new purpose in building homes.

A Hawk’s nest one would say.

First there’s the House of Imani, the state home he builds for the orphans of Shurima, so no parent may ever lose their child to indenture. He cuts the ribbon himself with his long nails, and he hugs every one of his wards. There’s just seven, at the opening. But he knows more will come.

They have teachers and caretakers and guards, all of which are chosen by Nasus himself. They live as siblings.

Let them know their Emperor loves them, is the initial motto. It shifts to let them know they’re loved after he abdicates.

Then there’s Renekton’s house.

The old summer home of the imperial House, where the elders would spend their last days before a peaceful death, is repurposed for the ascended Crocodile. Much of the luxurious rooms are tore down so he may have rooms to roam, or re-purposes into rooms of arms where he can release his wrath.

Give me blood! Give me vengeance! Give me…

…peace. Give me quiet. Give me silence.

A gentle treatment rekindles Renekton’s grasp onto life and the others. He spends most of his time gorging himself in sleeping powders, tormented by hammering headaches, the remorse of his deeds and the clash between Xerath’s illusions and the painful reality of what he lost. His fighting spirits subsides, turning to self-harm and rage. He gives himself the coldest baths, trains until his body strains and sleeps for days on end when the powders hit.

Sometimes Azir comes by, the only one he lets himself be seen by. He’s tormented Azir quite enough during his imprisonment, which is enough for him not to hurt him now. He feels as if he deserves it.

Most of the times they don’t even do anything. They sunbathe, they nap, they fight, Azir plays him songs or tells him old memories.

You were always a special kid.

They say crocodile tears are insincere, but not these ones.

Days pass, then months. Renekton is but a shadow of the Butcher of the Sands, now. He’s lethargic and sullen and fretful, seeing Xerath in every lightning storm or distant gleam.

But there’s a special room in his golden prison. One where a sturdy glass is the greatest wall between him and the rest of the world.

The view isn’t that great, it’s just typical desert. Renekton knows it. But he also knows the purpose of that room, and why he can see the outside without touching it.

“Here’s where I’ll meet my brother, isn’t it?”

Azir sighs. “He truly wants to see you.”

Renekton groans, grasping onto his forehead. Beads of sweat run down his face.

“I can hardly stomach you, Azir. Sometimes I still want to rip your feathers off.”

Don’t remind me, dear uncle. “I love my brother, but for his welfare, it’s best I don’t see him. If I forget again, I… gods, why? Why did I do that?”

“Shhh, shhh. It’s going to be alright. You’re never going to end up in there again.”

Renekton hugs Azir tight, cutting his breath. Then he turns his back on him, drawing circles in the sand.

“I’ve done enough. Let me stay here, Azir. My head will kill me before him anyway.”

If you knew just how he loves you, you’d embrace him with open arms.

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Do Ascended crocodiles dream of electric hawks?

I mentioned Renekton having a need for sleeping powder. This is something Nasus came up with to calm him down, but was unable to do it himself, as he lashed into rage whenever he saw him.

“I will never forgive you, traitor! Never!”

So guess who had to step in in the Curator’s stead.

“You feathered bastard, you’re not poisoning me!”

“It’s not poison, dearest. It will soothe you.”

“You’re as sharp-tongued as he, Azir. You, who put me in chains… caged me like a pet lizard.”

Renekton is in fact in chains, in the main hall of the flourishing garden he’s in. They’re loose chains, of course, and padded, but chains nonetheless.

Azir had seven brothers and sisters. He can’t imagine the pain he’d feel at seeing one of them in such a state.

“I’ll drink first. So you’ll see I mean not to trick you.”

“Aren’t these headaches enough pain? You add yourself to it! You loathsome parody of a bird!”

Azir takes a sip and leaves the bottle by Renekton’s side. Tears fall down the Butcher’s face, most of headache and pain. Without anything to lash at, his wrath turns to himself.

After Renekton has fallen asleep, Azir takes a hefty sip of coffee to contrast the sleeping powder – bleh, it’s so bitter… come on, do it for Renekton, be a leader – and wraps him neatly in the woven sheets.

He chatters like fever, sobbing to himself.

I was like this too, when you hurt me on Xerath’s commands. Renekton was furious, at first. He slapped him, kicked him, lashed him. He once shoved him off a flight of stairs – hooded – because he felt like it.

Through the panic, and the film of sweat it elicits in him, Azir strokes his designated uncle’s face with medicines and caressed his ragged scales.

Once you held me tight, taught me the arms, loved me like I too was yours. Now I carry scars for your torment, and I’m too weak to loathe you.

Your brother loves you, I love you.

He’s tired of wallowing in pain. Put him to death, his parents whisper. An emperor must show a firm stance. He disgraced you.

“Nasus…”

Azir gasps in place. Renekton shakes under the covers, rattling the chains. “Don’t do it, brother. Don’t lock me down there…”

“No, Ren. You’re safe.” Azir massages his temples, kisses his knuckles, strokes his hands. “You’re not locked down there. You’re safe.”

You’re not locked down there, baby bird. I’m here. You’re safe.

“You’ll never enter that tomb…”

That coffin again.

“And your brother loves you. He loves you. He would never…”

…let anything hurt you again, baby bird.

“I can hardly look at him, he hurt me so much back then”, Azir tells Nasus. “He frightens me. Yet I must heal him and show kindness. There’s some of him left.”

“I will never thank you enough, dearest baby bird.” Nasus’ eyes are filled with tears. Renekton still loathes him, even in that gilded cage. Perhaps even hope was a folly.

“I love him too. He’s my dear uncle. And I… I feel responsible for his state.”

“It was never you, sweetest. Yet I pray you find the strength to forgive him. Hurting you pains him even more than you think.”

Maybe I will. But not you, Xerath. Never.

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Azir and uncle Renekton

When I previously mentioned that Renekton has been put “in an isolated temple” to be healed, maybe some got the idea that putting him back in seclusion after thousands of years in the dark isn’t the smartest idea.

But the place isn’t dark at all. There’s high walls around it, but it’s mostly a splendid garden, with a lot of exposure to the sun. It’s a place of healing first and foremost, usually utilized as a basking spot for the old members of the royal family to live a comforting old age. The choice Azir made to put his old friend there instead of more needy people was met with controversy, but he was firm.

“I owe him this much.”

Renekton was first kept in chains, blindfolded, raging against the feared darkness, until the gates were locked and magically sealed. But even making him see again didn’t coax him.

“I can recognize a gilded cage when I see one. You’re one and the same, Azir. My brother coddled you too much.”

Was it not for your brother, I’d be dead.

Azir stays by his side for days and days, bringing him food for the taste, making sure he’d not hurt himself. Crafting sculptures of sand for him to rile at. And sometimes, when he’s too tired to fight, pants and sweats in the sand and grass, he talks to him gently.

As the days pass, Renekton calms down. Azir is a gaoler, but a kind one. He stays by him during his terrors like his brother would do to him. He brings him a new loincloth after he rips the one he was wearing. He uses sand magic to recover some lost memories. One time he brings musicians to plays some old songs. Renekton actually helps fill in the blanks, which makes Azir’s heart fill with hope.

“I’m sorry I hit you, back then”, he once says. He refers to that terrible year of imprisonment. “I thought I wanted that. He said I...”

“That’s alright, dearest. It didn’t hurt that much.” Azir is lying through his beak, one time Renekton slapped him so hard he passed out. But he probably knows it. “I blame your rage on Xerath and none else.”

“Xerath… frightens me”. Renekton tenses, his tail twitches. “I want to know myself. I want this pain to cease. A part of me knows I love you. The other… it wishes to hurt you more. My head hurts.”

“Lay in the shade.” Azir interjects him quickly and leads him by the hand. “I’ll bring you a damp cloth.”

“No. B-Bring me my sleeping powder. I want silence. I want out. I want… I want…”

And under the shade they sit, Renekton curled in a ball and Azir sitting by. The grass is soft, there’s water nearby, and a weaved blanket of the naasaj covers his shivering body. Soon he’ll dose off.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Azir suddenly says.

“If you want to”, Renekton whines, half-asleep.

Azir strokes the back of his hand. “I’m abdicating.”

He expects Renekton to gasp, to growl, even to attack him. To say the same things his parents say – that he’s scum, he’s ruining the house, he should be trampled over by all of Shurima and never even lift his eyes off the ground.

Instead he twitches, touching Azir’s hand with his own. He hides it back under his belly, just enough to remember what it feels.

“…heh. I can’t wait to see the face he makes.”