Work Text:
One I
he is graceful:
the way he d s his head when he pores over paperwork
i p
the way he s p l i t s through an army with his gleaming axe
s
i e
the was he r s with equal pride and humility
Two II
he is a brute:
he exudes power that crushes enemies and commands thousands
he cleaves weaklings in two, ruthlessly, mercilessly
his greeting barely acknowledges, his goodbye is far too brusque
Three III
his presence thunders
yet
he disappears soundlessly before the sky turns
stormy gray clouds
to melancholy periwinkle
Four IV
he was handsome once,
without the snarl of a blood-soaked leader
without the tiny crevices the texture of leather
without the deepened permanence of a battle-driven man
he was handsome once,
untouched by the plagues of
orphanage
poverty
and most of all
the knife of a cruel world.
but that is not him.
he is not a handsome man.
Five V
you can touch his scar,
an honor his men are granted once for their service,
twice, thrice
but it does not define him
Six VI
you know of his humility, of the internal war,
prefer it over the status but not the respect
for glamour does not suit him
perhaps draven,
but not darius
Seven VII
could he love you?
you wonder, grasping a delicate undershirt,
left many moons ago
on a moonless night.
Eight VIII
one night,
you will wake up with a heart of empty longing
only to find him humming a noxian military classic,
but tonight is not the night.