Chapter Text
The sun beats down on the man’s skin. His breathing is labored, small and stiff huffs escaping his lips. The once vibrant green grass is splattered with a deep dark crimson. His fingers tightly clench at his opposite upper arm. A wave of pain washes over him and he grits his teeth, his grip only becoming more heavy and tense. It is almost ironic how beautiful the weather is compared to the bloody battlefield on the edge of Noxus’ entrance. It is against his will when his body collapses, his knees hitting the ground. He sighs, wondering if this is the end; his eyes flutter in the calm brisk wind,
He then feels emotion, sentimentality, and peace wash over his entire figure. He does not have the energy to move, but his heart beats a medley that calls out to the feeling. He hears a voice. It’s a higher-pitched one, with a hint of playfulness imbued in it. He roughly shifts his head in the direction of the sound and blinks in astonishment. There is a small shape curled up in itself, its forehead gently perching on his torso. Its black pupils and bright ocean blue irises gaze up at him with a sparkle.
He feels his exhaustion fade away, and quickly discerns that this creature is not normal; it reminds him of a cat.
It mewls, golden whiskers and crown glowing brightly. A green aura surrounds her and him. It lightly claws at him, practically bouncing and begging him to get up. Its expression drops when it realizes that he is still worn out and blood continues to pour out from his cuts and gashes, bruises littering his exposed skin. It cries out to the sky and he cannot help but try to comfort it.
He is a warrior; a fighter. But he is not a heartless brute. Its ears droop, tail drooping on the damp grass. He holds out his hand to it, and it sniffs him and lays its head on his outstretched palm.
His body betrays him.
He hears the stuttered yowls and screeching from the feline before he goes unconscious, body limp.
His eyelids flutter, and indecipherable whispers fill his ears. He perches himself up with his bandaged arms. He is immediately on alert; he knows that both Ionians and Demacians would not treat his injuries in such a dignified and neat manner; the ones responsible are either a neutral party or unknown individuals.
“Yuumi’s healing prowess is rather powerful. You must have been extremely hurt,” a voice rings out.
He spins his head to the source of the sound. He squints at them before letting out a dry cough; he recognizes the man immediately, and the unknown person seems to be aware of that, but does not make a move.
They frown. “Don’t force yourself to talk, Darius.”
The man’s brows furrow. “You know my name?”
“I do not like Noxians, but that does not mean I do not learn their names or hold their roots against them, Hand of Noxus.”
Another voice interrupts the small talk. They sheath their sword and tread with light steps. “I think what Akshan perhaps meant to say is that he doesn’t have anything personal against you — not anymore at least. Especially not since you treated Yuumi with kindness before you went under.”
Darius stays silent, processing the other man’s words, before he blurts out with an incredulous tone, “Who even are you?”
They do not react negatively, in fact, they emit a small chuckle, their raven hair swaying with the movement of his body. “I am Yone — Yasuo’s older brother.”
Darius blinks. “Were you not killed by him?” He is fully aware of the brief history that was shared between the higher-ups of Noxus’ army in relation to Yasuo and his family.
The man solemnly nods. “Yes, but he is still my brother to me; I have forgiven him a long time ago.”
Darius has a small understanding where he is coming from. He has a brother of his own after all. He simply just gives a small grunt in response. Yone takes that as his cue to continue speaking. “Speaking of Yuumi… I must thank you,” he begins cordially. “You are not weak; you had the opportunity to hurt the one that wanted to help you, but you didn’t. So, thank you for not bringing misfortune to her.”
The Noxian turns his head away from the man. “Why would I? I had no reason to; she was trying to help me of all people. I have a sense of honor and loyalty, if nothing else.”
“Nonetheless, you have my gratitude,” he hums. “My brother will be looking over your injuries and tending to them until you are able to go back to your city of Noxus. One of us has already alerted your Grand General, so do not fret.”
“...They haven’t been taken into custody, right?” Darius deadpans. He will forever deny that he has a sliver of concern for whatever group of dynfunctionals this is made up of.
Yone looks at him in amusement, lips just slightly pursing upwards. “They have not taken or captured Kayn, no.”
“Huh. Alright then. Just don’t get Swain mad — I don’t think I have to tell you that, though; you don’t look dumb.”
“Indeed. And quite frankly, I’d hope that I don’t look or act dumb, if not for the sake of the others' survivability.”
Darius almost doesn't want to know, but gives in to his urges, responding with a one word rebuttal: “Meaning?”
“To put it lightly…my brother and Kayn have a bad habit of getting into arguments; Akshan only fans the flames. Myself, Jhin and Sylas have to constantly break them apart.”
“This group of yours...consists of you — a man that should be dead, — a serial killer gone dark, a powerful mage that happens to be a criminal in the eyes of Demacia, a man that was part of the infamous Sentinels of Light, a man that can control the damn wind, a child soldier-slash-assassin that can traverse the shadows, and what I can only assume to be a magical fucking cat. You certainly got some interesting folks in your ragtag group of rebels.”
“That is one way to put it, yes. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Yone gears his head toward the door. “My brother is approaching. Please do be civil with him.”
"No, I don't think I will." He grumbles out of spite.
Yone chortles with a smirk; it's good enough for Yone, floating out of the room like an apparition.