Sona and Tahm Kench- A Personal Headcannon
Sona sat in her dressing room, pulling the spelled comb she had been given for this gig through her hair, reflecting on the astonishing success of the band’s first performance. She had been apprehensive at first, when Mordekaiser (a being she knew by reputation) first asked her to join his “Pentakill”- and not only because the style was so different from her normal work. This new music was exhilarating; it called to all of the anger and resentment she still felt from her days in the Demacian orphanage. Perhaps it was poetic that their first concert was in Noxus…
A commotion outside the dressing room interrupted her thoughts.
“I told you, she isn’t accepting visitors right now!” The voice of her bodyguard (a hulking man with a great axe, provided by the Noxian High Command) filtered through the door.
“Am I speaking in ancient Shuriman, or is this miscommunication the result of you being the misbegotten offspring of a rock and a deceased parrot? I said: ‘OUT OF MY WAY!’” This voice was deeper, harsher, and suggestive of something large, and male.
There was a thud, followed by a short silence and a firm, but strangely dainty, knock.
The voice came again, this time smoother, like a dark chocolate poured over something made of meat, “Excuse me, miss. I don’t mean to intrude, but your performance tonight was so deeply moving that I could not help but try to meet you in person, to congratulate you on the development of your talents. Would you let me in?”
Sona, recognizing that anyone capable of overpowering her bodyguard would find a wooden door little challenge, called her etwahl from across the room. Power chord at the ready, she opened the door to face whatever creepy fan awaited her this time.
The first thing she saw was the enormous, toothy smile of the intruder. Reflexively, she let loose the chord, and the thing staggered.
“OOuf! Is that any way to greet your godfather, girl?” The thing said. Upon closer inspection the creature appeared to be an enormous catfish with a top hat and a jacket. The creature removed its hat, and, with considerable grace for such an ungainly creature, bowed deeply. “The River King, at your service.
Now, I’m sure you are quite surprised. ‘This old catfish, my godfather?’ Implausible though it sounds, I speak truly. Your mother named me such when she asked me to convey you to a safe place and watch over you, that you might live up to your potential. If you will let me in, we can sit down, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
Sona, having played occasionally in Bilgewater, recognized the title of “The River King” and knew of the disastrous consequences of “letting him in.” However…to learn about her parents…
As she stood pondering, the King said, “I swear to you girl, I mean you no harm. May the vengeance take me if I break my word. There are powers in this world even my kind fear, and she is one of them. Something your mother reminds me of, when she visits.”
Sona remained apprehensive, but her etwahl did not seem perturbed by the demon’s presence. She curtsied slightly, stepped aside and waved him in. He made himself comfortable, clearing and sitting on the vanity, which creaked significantly under his bulk.
“Y’see, child, I met your mother some years ago, two nights after you were born, in fact. I had a different form, then, and a different preferred place to dine. Aatrox had come to Ionia, in the form of a Noxian invasion. This naturally left lots of folks in need of transport, with their faith in balance shattered, facing the realities of the world. Naturally, business was booming and I was making a royal killing. Now, normally, I find my clients on my own, or else they find me. Your mother was one of the rare few who called me to them. She had this beautiful singing voice, you see. Like an angel. No, more like siren. Angels, as a whole, tend to be much too shouty and full of themselves for their voices to ever sound that pure and graceful. Anyways, I hear this melodious voice coming out over the river one night. The song it sang was sad, but full of fire. In fact, that’s how I’d describe your mother- full of fire. She had a fascination with the stuff. Most of her life she’d kept it at bay by meditating. But, after her family had been slaughtered and she’d been married to a Noxian general at swordpoint, it was her only friend left in the world. On this night, she had built a bonfire of all of the scrolls in her deceased family’s library and was watching them burn as she sang and played the etwahl. I’m taken to believe that that… thing… is an old family heirloom. Anyways, while watching yet another memory of her family burn, she had an idea. Her husband had sent word that he and his army would return to the village in three weeks for a feast- they had conquered yet another village. She, and what servants had survived the initial attack, were to have enough food prepared to feed the entire horde of them, and she was to sing at the feast. She hated your father, with the same burning passion with which she loved fire. Some of her hate for him rubbed off on you, and though she loved you as her child, she could not stand you as his. Still, you were her daughter and she was determined to do right by you. Her idea was this- she would bargain with me: your passage to someplace safe from the Noxians and my protection of you from the dangers of the world, in return for a seat at the feast, and a song every year for the rest of my existence. Now, I wouldn’t normally accept such a long term contract, but her voice was so pure, so wonderful, so incomparably beautiful, that I couldn’t turn her down. She gave you to me, and I spirited you away to Demacia- a place where every citizen would happily throw down their lives to protect a child from Noxus. On the way, I felt something following me. Every time I turned around, I saw nothing. Eeriest thing I’ve ever felt, and I’m no stranger to the Shadow Isles.”
The River King eyed her etwahl suspiciously before continuing.
“After that, I checked in on you occasionally- to make sure you got adopted by the right person. Couldn’t have you raised by just any Demacian. Most of them would have stamped all that beautiful talent right out of you with a gilded boot and conscripted you in the army. Lot of tasteless philistines. Scared the worst of them off. I was worried that the loneliness might get to you and ruin you, but I daresay you turned out perfect, with every bit of musical talent your mother had- though not one ounce of her voice. Well, that’s the story, girl. Thanks for letting old Uncle Tahm visit for a while, but I must be gettin’.”
With that, the demon got up and turned to leave, but Sona reached out and grabbed his coat. Seeing the questioning look on her face, he said: “What is it, girl? You want to know what became of your mother? Well, at the banquet, as your father and his officers sat transfixed by her singing, they didn’t notice the flames creeping up the walls of the great hall. They didn’t feel as the fire licked at their legs and swallowed them up. In the center of it all, your mother stood, her voice more beautiful than ever as the flames engulfed her. Even after all these years, she has kept her promise. She comes to me every harrowing, singing that same song she sang the night she let me in.”
Sona stood transfixed as the monster left. As he walked away, he turned and tipped his hat to her. To her surprise, his face was not that of a catfish, but of a handsome red dragon with eyes the color of burning coals.
