Broken Vows (Sequel to The Vow of Sion) [Fanfic]
Hello again. I normally don't write sequels to fanfics (the concepts of fanfics is still new to me) but a scene popped into my head and I got the urge to write. Took my longer than I hopped, but I'm glad I finally finished it.
This story details the aftermath of Sion's death from the view of his lover and of Boram. If you haven't read the previous story Which I will link here then you may have trouble following along. You don't have to read the previous story (or this one) if you do not want to, I'm just saying it'll be more clear if you read the first.
Without further ado, Here is the sequel.
Broken Vows
A hero.
Yes, that is what he became. His sacrifice saved all of Noxus and gave it a chance to finally win this war.
But to her, he had become more heinous than those Demacian dogs, more cowardly than those razor tongued blue bloods, and worst of all, more deceptive than a bilgerat.
The woman stared blankly at the memorial’s construction, the heavy rain deafening the sobs that her hood hid. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her pregnant form.
He had promised to return, made a vow to be with them. It had been broken, and despite every reason to thank him, she couldn’t help but curse his name as she cried.
Noxus had many heroes, she only had him.
He’s gone.
Boram’s mind repeated that fact as if it could change it. His grip tightened on the edge of his war table, eyes focused on the world map before him.
Jarvan was dead, leaving Demacia leaderless and grief stricken. His now bastard son was too young to lead them, leading to a power struggle over who will rule until he is ready.
This would be the perfect time to crush them, to finally remove that gaudy capital off the face of Runeterra. He’d have sent out his armies immediately, if not for one problem.
“Why did you die, you stubborn fool? Did you ever…” Boram sighed, “No, you never considered the consequences. That was my job.”
There were hundreds of generals who would volunteer for such a chance. Eager to attain the glory for bringing down Demacia, to be remembered as the one to shatter its pristine gates. He didn’t need glory seekers, he needed someone he could trust to sunder those accursed walls. Someone who would assure the fall of their nobility and the royal bloodline, once and for all.
And despite his stubborn warrior’s pride, Sion had always given results. He was the perfect general to lead this attack. The true harbinger of Demacia’s fall.
But now he’s dead and Boram’s army was effectively leaderless.
He soon retired from his war room to rest the headache that followed his frustrations. A regular man would have given up now and make do with what he had. But he was Boram Darkwill, the Grand General of Noxus! A city that existed since ancient times, with secrets that would make scholars weep in fear and joy. Surely there was something that could help him? Some ritual to bring his general back at the head of his armies once again.
But his thralls had found no such ritual or spell, no matter how deep into the archives they delved. Whoever occupied this fortress before Noxus either hid it well or never found such sorcery. Whatever the reason may be, Boram was reaching the end of his rope.
At least the wine was good. The bottles were so ancient that the contents should have become vinegar. He theorized that there was some enchantment to slow down the aging process. Whoever occupied this place before had intended to stay for quite awhile.
“Oh what secrets do you hold?” Boram said to the fortress walls of his chamber as he took a light sip. If only the walls could talk.
“Wine does little to sooth an aching mind, Grand General.” spoke a feminine voice from behind him.
_Right on time._
“I was wondering when I’d receive an uninvited audience with the Black Rose.” Boram said without turning to face his intruding guest. If she was an assassin, then this would already be done.
“You wound me, dear General. Especially with the invitation being as clear as day.”
The edge of his wine glass rested against his lips for a brief moment, “What do you want?” he said before taking another sip and then putting it down.
“To show you that you have more allies than you realize.”
He chuckled, “So you want an alliance?”
“And you want your best supporter back at the helm. We can bring him back, perhaps better than he once was.”
Boram didn’t trust the Black Rose. Their motives had always been unclear, painting themselves as a wildcard in Noxus. They were resourceful however, and it was rumored that they had secrets that were older then this very fortress. An alliance with them, no matter how secretive, could provide him with such secrets.
And as much as he loathed to admit it, the task of retrieving his friend from the beyond was out of his reach. If the Black Rose could bring him back, then the possibilities were simply endless.
It was risky, but Boram didn’t get to his position without taking risks.
“When and wh-” he turned to find his guest had disappeared. There was a note left near his wine glass when he turned back.
_Two days. In the catacombs. Come alone._
Was this some cruel twist of fate?
**Jarvan’s butcher at the helm**, every poster said the same thing. She almost smacked one of the girls when she heard them, forgetting that they never knew her relations with him.
This couldn’t be true. If he was back, then why didn’t he see her? He promised to come back, promised to raise this child with h-
She screamed, keeling over in pain. Her breaths labored heavily as she struggled to stand, clawing at the poster.
“You promised…” she said breathlessly as she dragged it down with her, “You promised.”
Boram stumbled into his chambers, gripping his weakened stomach tightly as he tried to process what had just occurred.
He was a fool, an impatient and stubborn fool who put too much faith in honey and lies. How could have been so blind?! There was no sorcery that could bring his friend back, his attempts to do so only left a desecrated corpse and that… that abomination!
It was too late to stop, the city was already littered with the word that Jarvan’s killer would be at the vanguard of the army. And why should he stop? He, no, it, was just another tool, like a ballista. Despite the “failure” the Black Rose had pointed out the “perks” of such a weapon.
Already Lord Darkwill was planning his attack, looking over the world map once again. As much as he wanted to tear down the Demacian gates, he needed to test this weapon first. Not too close to Demacia, but close enough to show them this newfound power of Noxus. His finger trailed towards a fortress in Andras.
He smiled, “Perfect.”
She was selfish. This realization kept running through her head as she walked towards the crowd, her newborn child tucked safely between her arms. She had planned to confront him, expose him for the coward he was in leaving them. She had his note with her as proof of this betrayal.
There was a voice in the back of her mind that told her this was foolish, that she forfeited not only her own life, but the life of their child as well. It was right, she never denied it that, she just didn’t care. As ashamed as she was to admit it, she didn’t care about what would happen to her or her child.
She wanted retribution, not justice.
She looked on with grim determination as the soldiers walked by, waiting for when he would come into view. The crowd was almost deafening with their cheers, showing their support for the army that would crush Demacia.
But where was Sion? Where was Jarvan’s butcher? When the people learned that it was another general leading this campaign, rumors of confusion had begun to circulate. Yet they never asked the important question: How did Lord Darkwill bring Sion back?
The answer was soon upon them, contained in a cage with a thick sheet covering it. The sight of a silhouette on the inside slowly silenced the crowd as their curiosity took hold. The woman’s rage and bitterness dampened at the view. Who were they hiding?
The wailing of an infant broke the silence. The head of the silhouette turned, chains clanged as it struggled towards the sound.
She tried to calm her child, but it would not cease. An enraged roar echoed from the cage, followed by the sounds of snapping chains. Shivers ran down her spine at the sound of that inhuman howl. She told herself it was impossible, but it was all too familiar with her.
_Sion?_
A swift gust removed the curtain, revealing Noxus’s kingslayer for only a few seconds.
To her, it felt like an eternity.
His skin was greyed and rotted, held together by bolted metal. Attached to his jaw was the Demacian crown of Jarvan the first, its spikes giving him the appearance of a mad beast’s bared fangs. His chest glowed red, burning like a hearth. And his eyes...her heart almost ceased beating at the glimpse of those crimson glowing eyes. She could always see past Sion’s eyes, or at least gander at what he thought when she looked. But these...she only saw rage.
This was not him. This was not her Sion.
As the crowd panicked and the soldiers surrounded the cage, she ran. Away from the crowds, away from the attention and away from that...that thing!
It was only when she stopped to rest that she noticed her child had stopped crying. It giggled as it looked up to her, reaching for her embrace.
Her tears landed on her baby’s face. This was all she had left of him.
Sion was no more.
And there we have it. Thoughts? Criticisms? Please share in the comments below. This wasn't my original idea for the ending, but I felt I was dragging it on if I continued further.
