The Vow of Sion. [Story]

So a thread about a predeath skin got me thinking him. I've been playing him a lot (love the resolve tree) and decided to give my creative muscles a stretch by making a little fanfic of his final moments. I don't normally write fanfiction and I haven't written anything creative for a few months (I started this project before Turkey Day in the USA, so I'm a lot slower than I like), but I kinda like how I've done this.

Spoiler: Alternative character interpretation.

The Vow of Sion.

     “So you’re going? ”Said the woman under the covers,

      “How else am I to remind Boram that he is a Noxian?” the bed creaked with Sion’s rise, the wooden planks creaked under his weight while he put on his armor.

“Being easier to find would be a start.  Though he probably wouldn’t appreciate a scandal such as this.”

“I’m almost tempted to tell him, just to see his reaction.” he said cheerfully, “But the less he knows, the better.”

“Are you ashamed of me?” she sat up from her bedsheets, revealing her rounded stomach.  Sion stopped donning his armor, “Why would you think that?”

“The Mighty Sion, hand of Noxus!  Nightmare of Demacia.  And a bringer of bastards to Noxian har-”

“Stop.” he enjoyed her theatrics, but not when aimed at her.  “This child…” he placed his palm against her pregnant belly, “Is no bastard.  I have sworn it.”

“What will others say?” she grinned, “Gossip runs through the streets like a river.”

“As will the blood of those who dare impede us.” Their lips met briefly before he returned to his equipment, “But I cannot defend from what I do not know.  With secrets come hidden foes, and Boram has a lot of secrets.  There is no telling how much his conspirators know from what he knows.” He sighed in frustration, that’s all politics was to him.  Mountains of frustration, lies, and complications.  Boram described it as another war, one that will hound him forever.  Sion disagreed.

“So the less Boram knows about me, the safer I am?”

Sion nodded, “And people see me as a mindless brute.” he snickered, “They believe a warrior only survives by the strength of his arm.”

“So rather than stone walls and armed guards, I have a leaky roof and a decrepit old crone for protection?”

He raised a finger to comment, but his answer alluded him.  She laughed, “Better than nothing I suppose.” with one last embrace she said, “Promise me you will return.”

As gentle as he could, Sion wrapped his arms around her waist, her soft stomach rubbing against his gut as he drew her in closer, “I swear on my soul that I will come back for you.  Go back to sleep, we’ll be done shortly.”

As his love returned to her slumber, Sion took a quill and paper.  There was something he needed to say, something that despite best efforts he couldn’t voice.  

---

Boram Darkwill lazily swirled the wine in his goblet, it was all he could do to ignore the complaints of silver tongued bureaucrats.  Over and over they panicked, restating the obvious as if it could change the outcome.  The true burden of a rulership was having to appease those who follow you.

“Have you reached a decision, Grand General?”

“Hmm?  Oh yes.” Despite his composed tone, Boram was frustrated at what he couldn’t do.  Demacia on the doorstep of Noxus, with Jarvan at the helm?  How could this have happened?  He had underestimated his enemy, and despite his overwhelming desire to turn the tides, he had neither the manpower nor the support to do so.  None of these noble blooded cowards were willing to take risks, preferring to stall for time.  What madness was this that his own home prevented him from protecting it?  

A muffled shout echoed in the distance, followed by thunderous footsteps.  Each echoed like the thunder of a storm.  Boram’s black hounds raised their heads, ears perked up.  Boram smiled.  

One of the hinges broke as the entrance doors were slammed open, “Boram!” Sion roared, his face bearing an expression of disgust and rage.  Already prepared for battle, with his massive axe in hand, he stomped into the room.  Some nobles and guards stepped backwards despite their safe distance, a noticeable effect of Sion’s presence from time to time.  The black hounds wagged their tails.  

Finally a noble spoke out, “Sion.  So glad you could join u-” 

“Why are you here, Boram.”  Sion pointed his axe towards the Grand General, “Explain why you’re sitting comfortably on your throne and drinking wine as Demacia assaults our borders!”

“Can you not see we are strategizing?” The Noble that Sion ignored pointed to the war table, covered in maps and models.  “This is the war room.  Where els-AHH!” The noble leaped to the side as Sion’s axe came down, cleaving the table in two.  Models, papers, and mapping tools clattered against the marble floor.  

“Need I remind you of your responsibilities, Boram?” Sion picked up one of the model soldiers, “You are the leader of Noxus.  You are who the people must look to when our nation calls.” Sion walked up to Boram, holding the figure in his fist, “So why is it, that when Jarvan stands upon our doorstep, you stay inside…” the toy shattered in his tightened fist, “Playing with toys.”

The echo of the broken miniature was the only noise that filled the room as it tumbled down the stairs.  Then only the muffled panic outside and the tense breaths of the heads of Noxus crowded the room.  Sion towered over Boram, awaiting response. 

The chalice made a soft metallic “tink” as Boram placed it upon his armrest, “And what…” he tented his fingers and crossed his legs as he looked up to Sion, “Do you suggest we do?”

“Kill Jarvan.”

A few noblemen chuckled from behind, only to cease at Sion’s glare.  Boram remained stoic, “No assassin can bypass his royal guard.  Even my sanity has been questioned with repeated attempts.” he explained, his eyes never wavered from Sion’s stare.

“When did I suggest assassins?”

“Well we cannot just run up to him and cleave his head from his shoulders.”

“Why not?” Sion grinned, Boram could see the excitement in his eyes.  His friend was never one for details.

Boram chuckled, “You haven’t thought this through.”

“You’ve thought too much.”

“We cannot just charge straight into their army and expect to win!”

“Kill Jarvan and Demacia will fall.”

“I know that!  But this is not the time for that!  We are boxed in, hopelessly outnumbered, and ill prepared!”

“Like a rat, shoved helplessly into a corner as the cat readies to pounce.  Tell me Boram, what does a rat do when cornered?”

“He…” Boram braced his head, “Lashes out.  Like any desperate animal.”  

Sion nodded, “Sometimes he wins.”

“Barely.  We’ll die if we attack.”

“And we’ll assure ourselves a slow death if we lock the gates.  This battle is happening Boram, and the odds are not in our favor.  How do you wished to be remembered?  Dying in your city like a coward,” Sion brought himself down on one knee and bowed his head, “Or defiant to the end, like a true Noxian.”

Lord Darkwill grabbed his drink, staring into its contents as he swished it around.  This situation was all wrong, it should be reversed.  He should be leading an attack on Demacia, with that damnable Jarvan cowering in his...  

“Tell our forces to stand ready at the gates.” 

Boram was in no hurry to die.  But he’ll be damned if history remembers him as a coward.  If he was to die, then he shall die gloriously.

---

_Dearest beloved,_

_You once asked me if there was anything I loved more than war.  I still stand by my answer, but I will not deny that it is only by a small margin._

“Open the gates!” Sion screamed as he hoisted his axe high above his head.  Cheers from soldiers and citizens alike echoed from behind, Noxus would not die quietly.  

_I’m sure I could find the words to describe the joy I feel on the battlefield.  The screams of the enemy, the feeling of crushing bones under my boots, the resistance of my axe as it cleaves a man in two.  But our time together should tell you that I am not one for words._

“Charge!” Axe in one hand and reigns in the other, Sion’s steed galloped forward on his command.  Leading the onslaught, they rushed through the gate and into the frontlines of Demacia’s infantry.  Their alarmed screams were followed by the sound of gored flesh, clanging metal, and gasps of ending life.  Notes in his symphony of war.

_Yet my bloodlust can no longer satisfy me.  Ever since I met you, I have felt...assured.  I don’t know how to describe it, but I feel satisfied when I am with you.  I can sleep peacefully knowing that you are in my arms._

Arrows punctured through the neck of his horse.  It squealed with its last breath, toppling forward with the full force of its charge.  Sion kicked himself off to avoid being crushed, instinctively rolling as he landed.  His men charged ahead of him, but the Demacian soldiers were steadfast in their position.  None passed through.

 _But I cannot ignore the call of battle._	

    He could see it, the crown of Jarvan off in the distance.  Riding atop his white horse, Sion swore that a smug grin sat across the king’s lips.  His heart ticked quickly in fury, returning his attention to the dead horse.  Its job was not over.

  _Until recently, this didn’t concern me.  But now...now I understand why cowards flee._

“Jarvan!!!!!!!!!!” Sion bellowed as he threw the lifeless stead across the battlefield.  The Demacian screams were lost on him as he charged through their broken front line.  The swings of his axe decimated countless defenders, their swords and spears did nothing to impede the juggernaut.  

_I’m afraid.  I’ve been afraid ever since you told me you were with child.  Everything around me felt as though it...I don’t know how to describe it.  Bigger?  More intimidating?  I couldn’t  understand why I was suddenly so afraid.  Then I looked in a mirror.  Can I truly be a good father?_

Laughter mixed in with the death throes of the enemy.  The very thought that these weaklings could back Noxus into a corner...it was too much to bare.  His axe swings suddenly become more difficult, the sound of his blade cleaving into flesh had vanished.  After ten more dead soldiers, he realized that the axe blade had fallen off.  Sion proceeded to use the handle as a club as he pushed forward.

_I’m no fool.  I know the difference between respect and fear.  My strength is not respected by anyone besides Boram.  To the rest, I am more like a monster.  Ready to charge at the nearest enemy. _

When his club broke, he pummeled his way through, helms denting, bones breaking.  Ecstasy and rage clouded his mind as he rampaged, his vision clouded in crimson.  He saw everything clearly, including the fear across Jarvan’s face as Sion removed his final obstacle.  

    _I was fine with this.  In fact, I Relished it.  I do not deny that I am a monster, but can a monster be a father?  Do I want another like me?_

“Jarvan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  He was upon the king in seconds, his bloodied and calloused hands wrapped tightly around the throat of demacian royalty.  His heartbeat echoed like the drums of war as he slowly sundered the Lightshield of Demacia.

 _The answer still haunts me, or maybe I just do not want to say it.  It doesn’t matter...you matter.  Our child matters.  I have never let fear control me and I will not start now!  I will be there for you and our child._

The drums ceased.  Air seeped through Sion’s lungs one final time as Jarvan’s sword pierced his heart.  

  _I promise._

Death did not weaken the grip of Noxus.  Despite his struggles, the demacian king could not avoid his fate.  Sion’s corpse stood like a monument to the will of Noxus, and Jarvan’s soon joined him as a symbol of those who would stand against them.

  _With love, Sion._