Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Insolent vermin… you should show such lowly creatures what it means to disrespect you, Kayn.

The shadow reaper’s eyes narrow, at first too focused on the unknowing group of men and women passing below the tree branch that he was perched upon. Hazel digits scan the scene, only pausing when it was time to move and follow further, until they find what looked to be a smudge of black within the grass; a small black cat, easy to miss in the dark. It must have been well cared for with just how affectionate it was being, rubbing up against a woman’s leg with the occasional purr for attention before running ahead when she tries picking it up.

“Disrespect?” The assassin lowly questions, notably confused.

He supposes that cats were indeed rather complacent creatures, always in need of love that they were just as quick to decline as they were to request. They pertained the hubris of their more fearsome feline counterparts and now that he thought about it, they were starting to sound like a certain someone he knew… and could hear.

Swear to me, Kayn, that you’ll never let that thing anywhere near me.

The young man then grins, those below being the only reason he held back from laughing. To think that the darkin Rhaast would be discomposed by the thought of even accidentally possessing a cat, an otherwise harmless animal. If it wasn’t such a catastrophically abhorrent thing to allow, he might have just let it happen to see what the result would be.

Nothing interesting nor worth the consequences, but a humorous thought nonetheless.

They soon stop at a small cabin and the front door moves with such a loud creak that Kayn found just hearing it physically discomforting. If the sound had not dulled out any sooner, the tranquillity of the otherwise quiet Ionian forest might have just been ruined- not that there wasn’t already Rhaast to do so himself.

Why are we here again?

“Retrieve and return.” Kayn mumbles, a mundane summary of his given mission.
His gaze remains on the wide open door and although innate curiosity begs him to go inside, he doesn’t.

That tells me nothing, the darkin complains.

When a man comes out of the cabin with a small brown satchel secured with string, Kayn’s eyes widen, locking onto it. He notes the sigil hanging from the side of the bag, his grip on the darkin weapon tightening.

“You will soon find out.” He grins.

Chapter Text

Like an open dam, rain would soon come crashing down. Although the water helps to wash the blood off of his skin, every droplet hits Kayn’s body like a volley of arrows. Sudden clashes of thunder made it hard to hear anything, the only benefit to this being the fact that he would no longer have to hear whatever supply of insults Rhaast had stored away within the depths of his trapped mind. His movements were sluggish, feet half sinking into the now muddied path. He holds the stolen satchel close to his chest, holding the cursed blade over his head to at the very least keep some of the water out of his eyes. The monastery wasn’t far.

Almost there.

Rhaast growls something, too quiet for the assassin to even try figuring out what was said. Kayn sighs, assuming it to be a complaint.

No matter how perilous the journey, it would have been worth it.

He had been tasked with tracking down these people; a small group of Noxians who were planning on scouting the area for another potential invasion and this device of theirs, a strange magical bomb, would’ve put several within miles into some kind of coma. If the weapon had not come into his possession today, there may have been no way of stopping them.

This had to have been why Master Zed chose him for this mission over anyone else. Other than the master of shadows himself, Kayn was the most capable. Knowing this only strengthened his pride, a temporary distraction to remind him of why he had to make it through this. He wasn’t allowed to linger on such self-congratulatory thoughts for very long, however.

You’re overdoing it, the darkin says and this time Kayn can actually hear him.

“What… are you on about?” He questions, partially out of breath. He was beginning to feel far more tired than he thought he was just a moment ago and his body was starting to ache.

“We’re not far,” he huffs, “it’s… right there.”

Kayn narrows his eyes at what little he could see of the temple. Actually, now that he really looked at it, it was a lot farther than he initially believed it to be.

Don’t be stubborn. Your body is—

“You know nothing of me. Don’t speak… as though you care… for anything more than keeping me alive to use me as a vessel.”

The assassin sighs before having to move wet locks of hair out of his visage, his lips soon curling into a grin.

“But worry not, darkin, you’ll never lose me… only I am deserving of such power, only I am worthy.”

Surprisingly, he gets no answer; no retort, not even a backhanded compliment.

There is always a silent rumbling within Kayn’s mind whenever Rhaast is about to speak. He can hear it now, yet the darkin says nothing. For some reason, he was holding back. He figures he must have given up on the argument and gone dormant.

Yes, go ahead and be that way, he thinks. Rhaast could be so childish sometimes.

Although, the assassin questions; could the darkin have been… worried about him?

They’ve had their moments of mutual amusement, but he would never call the owner of that boisterous voice his friend, let alone someone he could care about at all... because if he did, Rhaast would never let him live it down.

For the rest of the journey Kayn would hear only the sounds of pouring rain and loud thunder, his mind left vulnerable to his own lamentations.

It’s times like this where Kayn has to be incredibly careful with his thoughts and feelings. Occasionally, Rhaast can hear them. He can see them too. When the darkin chooses to peer into his dreams, Kayn has to pretend that he isn’t there.

He isn’t actually worried… is he?

He felt so spineless asking himself something like that, but from what he could tell Rhaast wasn’t listening. His absence persists and in response the assassin could only furrow his brows in what he considered to be frustration.

The silence was starting to make him feel a little guilty. Why?

Kayn didn’t care, or at least that’s what he kept telling himself every single time the darkin would occupy his thoughts for any reason other than having mildly annoyed him. For some reason the notion of saying that aloud, not that he would ever need to, provoked him in a way he couldn’t understand.

Almost there, he remembers, a hopeless attempt at rekindling focus. Almost… there.

Kayn feels heavy, yet when he sits up he realizes that there was no weight to carry other than his own. The room is cold, he feels dirty and he remembers not much other than being soaked and covered in mud. He was probably still a little wet from the rain. When he looks around, his brows furrow. It was Master Zed’s room. He’s usually never allowed in here, let alone like this.

What… happened?

It’s much smaller than he had always assumed it to be. Even as a child, he only ever knew what little of it he could see from outside, the rest hidden behind his master’s at the time much bigger frame. He would see his war armor displayed on the wall and personal paraphernalia scattered about the floor, never the surprisingly piquant décor. The chair he was sitting on was large, leather and a little odd to move against, but comfortable nonetheless.

The scent of amber inundates the chamber and reminds him of the times he would only get a whiff of it whenever Zed would answer the door. The aroma was almost like home to him, and to some degree it literally was, as Zed himself carried the smell. At this point, just standing next to the man relaxed him a little sometimes.

He was like a father to him, but Kayn would never say such a thing aloud.

Kayn would not say many, many things about his master aloud.

“You’re up,” the man in question denotes as he then enters the room, “you should have waited. I did not think you to be the type to respect yourself so little, my student.”

Snapping out of a silent stupor, a little startled, Kayn meets his gaze with a look of confusion.

“You came back in the middle of a storm, surrendering yourself to the mercy of the elements. What do you think would have happened had I not found your unconscious body near the forest?” He questions, narrowing his eyes at him.

The younger man opens his mouth, but is left speechless and ashamed. He folds his arms, only then discovering that the one unaffected by his curse was sore and somewhat bruised.

Had the rain really been so harsh to him? Or was he just this out of shape?

“I’m… sorry, master. It was nothing,” he frowns, looking away, “it should have been nothing. I’ve—“

“Don’t be stubborn.” He retorts, the similarity to the darkin’s own candour catching Kayn off guard.

“Your body is—“

“Weak?” Kayn questions, interrupting him. His jaws clench.

That was what Rhaast was going to say, wasn’t it? Had he disappointed his master so much that he would share such a thought?

“Limited.” The other man finishes and Kayn suddenly goes back to being not only ashamed, but disappointed in himself. He would have been chastised for such disrespect had he not been so well acquainted with him.

He doesn’t need to look at Zed to see it there in his eyes too. When he was younger, he would comment on every little mistake. Now that Kayn was older, knowledgeable enough to realize his own wrongdoings, the man says nothing more than what he needs to.

“Drink.” Zed suddenly commands, gesturing towards a cup of tea sitting next to a kettle that Kayn had not even realized was there until now.
"Don’t be too long... and when you’re done, tend to your quarters. I can’t have you unwell when our homeland is potentially at risk."

He glances over at something behind Kayn, just off to the side. The younger man turns to see the cursed scythe leaning on the chair next to him, Rhaast’s usually wandering eye closed for the time being. Zed narrows his eyes at the weapon, but says nothing. He walks until he was standing right in the doorway before turning back to look at his pupil.

“I have to see to the dismantling of that weapon you obtained. Don’t do anything foolish.” He mutters.

With an expression that Kayn couldn’t quite read, Zed leaves him alone.

Well, mostly alone.

Rhaast opens his glowing eye upon the man’s departure, drowning the room in a bright red hue that flickers with every blink. He had pretended to be quiescent while the older man was around but Kayn isn’t surprised by this. He’s done this before, so he should’ve figured.

Coffee, Kayn? At this hour?

The assassin chuckles dryly before picking up the small porcelain cup. Thankfully, it was still hot. One of the perks of having a darkin hand was the fact that he didn’t need to worry about burning himself.

“Not much of a coffee drinker. It’s black tea.”

Good then. Your body seems to respond positively to that.

Kayn pauses before his next sip, brows furrowing in bewilderment.

“Why the hell are you paying attention to something like that?"

You try finding something else to do in here.

He couldn’t really argue with that, he supposes. It didn’t make any less weird, though.

I’ve discovered something new about our physical connection, the darkin suddenly states.

Kayn is at first a little disquieted by this, but doesn’t stop him.

I seem to be partially capable of controlling your body whenever you fall unconscious. If I hadn’t brought you closer to the monastery, it would have taken Zed far longer to find you. You’re welcome for that, by the way.

A bit of tea splashes just over the cup as Kayn nearly chokes on his own breath, swallowing what little of the drink he had in his mouth at the time.

“What?” He stares at the weapon in disbelief.

It was an incredibly miserable experience, really. All I could do was drag you across the wet grass.

The darkin then laughs.

But worry not, Kayn. I await the day I get to see you meet your untimely demise, but for now I do what needs to be done to keep my future flesh unharmed… not that a missing limb or two is a problem for me.

Kayn’s brows furrow at the darkin’s shameless mockery of his own overt selfishness. Fair enough, he supposes. He probably would have been just as obnoxious about it. That doesn’t change how much of a big deal this is to him, however.

“Why do that?” He questions, trying his best not to be disturbed by the revelation. “Someone else would have found you eventually.”

I’d rather not wait another millennium… and if Zed was the one to find me, he would not be so foolish as to put his hands anywhere near me nor be tempted by anything I could ever offer. I doubt he has the guts to try and use me, anyhow.

“That’s enough out of you.” Kayn demands. He’ll hear none of it if it insults his master.

That explanation should have been enough of an answer… but something still doesn’t quite sit right with him.

Whatever the case may be, he decides that it would have to wait until morning. He was admittedly rather tired and he didn’t want to stay in Master Zed’s room for much longer, lest he risk bothering him at such a late hour.

His body was also in an unusual amount of pain. It felt as though he was slowly bleeding out with every passing second. He hadn’t even noticed until now.

He soon finishes his tea, careful to not make a mess when he leaves the room as he was still pretty grimy from travelling through mud and rainwater for at least an hour. After a quick and much needed bath, he finally finds himself getting some rest.

Chapter Text

The assassin gasped for breath as he jolted awake, tired eyes darting around helplessly upon the realization that he could barely move his body. After a moment of mental struggle, Kayn found the strength to force himself upright from his bed. His breath was heavy and his lungs were left feeling shrunken.

Everything hurts.

Nightmare? Or are these… more plans? They’re rather ambitious, I would say.

Kayn jumped at the sound of the darkin’s deep voice thundering throughout his already exhausted mind. He turns his head to look at the weapon leaning against wall, then cracking his neck before letting out a deep sigh. Rhaast must have been looking again; looking into his mind in search of whatever leverage against him he could cling onto. It only made sense that he was the source of these... whatever they were.

Some nights, Kayn would find himself an another world; a golden Shuriman city at the height of its glory. It was as perfect in its construction as its nature was beautiful. He’d see it all through the eyes of a revered and powerful warrior, someone he could never recognize, always being worshipped by followers who were at his every beck and call. It was exhilarating, addicting even, and he would constantly verge on never wanting to wake up.

Then, every single time, it ends in the exact same way and he would seldom ever expect it.

The shining kingdom, his shining kingdom, would be demolished in a whirlpool of terror and agony; like a plague, creatures of indescribable horror would destroy everything, vicious and rampant mutilation and mutation spreading across him and his fellow soldiers. His mind would feel as though it were crumbling away.

Then, without fail, he’d wake up in his bed with a series of aches and pains.

"What do you care?" Kayn finally retorts after a moment, obviously agitated.

Yet again, the darkin does not answer.

Moreover, Rhaast doesn’t do anything to bother him at all in his vulnerable state, which an irritable Kayn was in far too much agony to be perplexed by. All he could do was acknowledge the relief it gave him.

His brows would furrow as he rubbed his tired eyes, his entire body scolding him for daring to try moving any more than he already has as he then remembers that he was far more hurt than he initially thought. His darkin arm remained untouched while his human arm was still a little bruised, small scratches from what seemed to be some sort of animal here and there. His torso was bandaged, as well as his lower legs, from wounds that were actually quite deep.

Kayn groans. He still couldn’t recall anything much prior to waking up in Master Zed’s room.

He quite literally shook the fatigue out of himself like an animal, scratching and rustling his already rather messy hair before getting up. He’d have to take it out, brush it and plait it all over again. It sometimes gave him pleasant memories of Zed braiding it for him as a child, but that was not something he would share with anyone. If Kayn didn’t like his long hair as much as he did, he would have cut it a long time ago.

He often wonders; can Rhaast see those memories? Just how deep into his mind can the darkin go?

Kayn shakes his head and as usual, he buries those questions alongside all of his other concerns. It would be better and safer to not think about it.

He passes a hand over his bandaged torso as he looks at himself in the mirror. He looks just as exhausted as he was and that only makes Kayn more frustrated.

How could he end up like this after such an easy mission?

It was just a storm, he reiterates inwardly, this doesn’t make any sense.

Kayn sighs, pacing about his room in order to find something to tame his wild mop of hair.

"Maybe there’s a piece of string or something I can use...” He mumbles, searching through drawers and baskets.

“I’m out of good hair ties. The one I just had is breaking.” He complains to no one in particular.

Perhaps a pretty little bow for a pretty little assassin, the darkin chimes in, reminding him that he was essentially incapable of talking to himself.

“Feeling talkative now? You’re not funny, you know."

He rolls his eyes, yet couldn’t help the smile creeping up at the corner of his lips. The sarcastic suggestion had admittedly made him feel a little bit better about… well, everything.

Kayn couldn’t say that he was wrong, though. He was pretty, albeit he would say that handsome was a better word. Zed taught him things as basic as proper hygiene and self-care and he was proud of how well-kept he usually was. Killing could leave quite the mess behind.

Could do without the clothes, though. Gets in the way. Nothing like bathing in the blood of your enemies.

“Without the…?” Kayn pauses, bewildered. “Rhaast, that would leave me completely—“

He stops the moment he hears a familiar pattern of footsteps approaching his room. When he hears a man give two other passing acolytes a command, he recognizes it to be none other than the master of shadows himself and straightens up.

He walks over to his door and leans out of the doorway in search of him. Unexpectedly, Master Zed would happen to be standing just a couple of feet away and immediately locked eyes with the younger assassin; the very shirtless, very I-just-woke-up-looking assassin. He even still had his hairbrush in hand, strands of his ebony fleece falling over his shoulders.

"Oh! Ah, uhm— good morning… master.”

“You’re awake.” His master eyes him up and down and Kayn debates on whether or not he was judging him.

“You seem well-rested. That’s good.”

Kayn just grins bashfully. There were times previous where he would answer to his fellow members of the order in the morning like this, leading to them sometimes seeing him in this awkward state of undress. He could tell that some of them were admiring him and his physique from behind their masks and a small part of him found an unorthodox pleasure in that.

Whenever Master Zed was the one at his door, however, all he could feel was… well, weird.

“Have there been any updates on the Noxians, master?” He asks, an attempt to draw attention away from his appearance.

“We’ll be investigating near the borders to find the one behind all of it.” Zed answers expeditiously.

“It seems as though we’ve been misled. Thankfully there will be no invasion, but someone still seeks to cause great amounts of harm to the people of Navori.”

Kayn perks up and his mouth opens.

“You,” Zed interrupts, pausing only to make sure that he was listening, “will stay here. I trust that you’re more than capable and willing to join me on this journey, but I would prefer that you take the time to recover instead.”

“But—“

“Ren will be my secondary for this mission. This expedition should take us no longer than a week. You are to remain here and make sure that nothing happens while I am away.”
Yet again he pauses, almost glaring at him.

“That is an order, Kayn.”

The younger man still stares at him, eyes locked in a combative gaze, but whatever argument he would’ve had doesn’t leave him. He sighs, nodding. He doesn’t do much to hide his disappointment.

“Okay, alright… as you wish, master.”

He looks aside dejectedly, only to then offer a wry smile.

“But I can at least, y’know, go outside… right? For… a walk, at least?”

Zed sighs, shaking his head disapprovingly but more so at his persistence than anything else. He isn’t exactly saying no.

“If that makes you feel better about it, then so be it. Don’t go far. I want you here and nowhere else.”

Kayn grins. Before he can say anything however, he’s drawn to the hand that he would then feel placed upon his head. He’s being pet as though he were still a child, but Kayn cannot find it in him to be angry. If anything, it’s comforting. He almost immediately relaxes, especially when he once again takes in that familiar scent of amber.

“Take it easy, alright?” Zed says before retracting his hand. “Or… whatever it is you would say.”

“Thank you, Master Zed.” He says sincerely, only a tad disappointed by the loss of his touch. He grins.

“See you in a week. May any future sorrow be fleeting.”

Walking through the forest without being beaten down by heavy rain and brought to near deafness by relentless crashes of thunder was a far more pleasant version of the experience to say the least. Whether it be to exercise his muscles while recovering from some kind of physical ailment or to simply clear his mind, a short walk has always seemed to do the trick.

Fresh dew littered the forest floor, the occasional droplet of water hitting the assassin’s head as he passed under trees still wet from the night prior. Notably, the flora was in a partial state of disarray as a result of the storm’s harsh winds, broken branches and twigs scattered about here and there. A few trees had even toppled over as well.
Still, Ionia’s nature is beautiful and that in itself gives Kayn more reason to protect it. He would do whatever it takes to keep such a haven from being tainted by Noxians who only wished to use it for more territory, for more tyranny.

He stretches as he walks. His arm no longer feels weak, but it reminds him of the rather strange circumstances he had found himself in. Yesterday, he passed out in the middle of a storm and woke up with injuries far worse than what that would have usually resulted in.

“How did this even happen…?” He asks himself, surprised to hear the darkin actually answer to that.

You were attacked just before Zed found you. You don’t remember?

“Attacked?” Kayn’s eyes widen. “I was attacked last night? Why didn’t you think to tell me about this sooner?”

I’ve no obligation to tell you anything, really.

“Rhaast,” he starts truculently, already angered by his flippancy, “you said that you could take control of my body whenever I’m unconscious. What did you do?”

Nothing much. You seemed to be capable of defending yourself just fine. I merely assisted you whenever you seemed to be out of it. I hardly think it matters, anyhow. You’re here now, aren’t you?

“You’re really choosing to be stubborn about this?” The assassin growls.

When the darkin doesn’t answer, he groans.

“Fine,” he says, then speaking between gritted teeth, “I’ll figure it out myself.”

Kayn takes a harsh turn which, much to his surprise, was all it took to get Rhaast talking again.

Where are we going?

“I’ve no obligation to tell you anything.” The assassin states with a glower, mocking him.

Oh come now, Kayn.

“Save it.”

Are you going back to that Noxian settlement? Aren’t you afraid of disobeying your master?

That question stops him in his tracks, but only for a moment’s worth of consideration.

“I’m… sure he’d understand.” He rationalizes.

Yes, I’m sure he will. He’ll definitely understand you going against his word on day one. Such a good student.

Kayn retraces his steps, which would have been much easier had it not been for the mess the storm had made. He looks around, observing every little thing he could, sometimes pacing back and forth like a madman. He finds himself just around where he had his last conversation with the darkin before everything had gone dark, but nothing seemed out of place. What was he not seeing?

Over there.

The assassin’s brows furrow in frustration.

“Over where? You’re a voice, Rhaast. I can’t see where you’re looking.”

He hadn’t brought the scythe with him, the darkin’s physical connection so strong that such a distance caused no problems when it came to communicating with him. It wasn’t all that far, but he could not borrow power without him being much closer.

To your left, just behind that tree.

Kayn follows the suggestion, looking past the tree to see nothing more than… other trees. He’s at first confused, and perhaps a little angry, until he notices something on the ground and moves over to pick it up.

“A blade…?” He questions, inspecting it carefully.

It’s no regular weapon, that much he knew already. It was oddly triangular, the edge opposite to its sharp tip lined with a strange organic metal and pieces of deep red flesh, just like that of his darkin arm. Kayn studies the blade further, passing his human hand along its surface until his face would twist into some sort of half grimace.

“Rhaast,” he starts, “is this… yours? What happened here?”

Kayn expects no answer, but is surprised to hear that familiar rumbling within his mind.

Dogs, the darkin says, my sister’s dogs found you. They wanted your flesh… and they wanted me, too.

“Dogs? Your sister?” Kayn is only really left more confused by that answer until he pieces a few things together.

“Another darkin, you mean? There’s one with… dogs?”

Naafiri, the darkin dagger. She’s… found a vessel- or… vessels, I should say. Shuriman dune hounds. Definitely not my first choice… but you take what you can get.

“Why is she here? Is she looking for you?”

She came looking for me, but instead she found you… or at least one of her dogs did. She’s come from far, her hounds say. It won’t be long before she gets here herself, one way or another.

“Rhaast…” Kayn’s brows furrow and he cannot decide whether or not to be angry or afraid.

“Why the hell did you wait so long to tell me this?”

He then gestures and shakes his head, frustrated with himself more than he was with the darkin.

“Actually, don’t even say anything.” He scowls. “You’re not obligated to tell me anything, right?”

No answer. He’s over it at this point.

Kayn returns to the monastery. His fellow warriors playfully belittle him for seeming moody and hostile and rather than confront them with a modicum of effort, he gives them the usual; the ‘I’m the leader for now so you’ll ask no questions and do whatever it is that I say’ spiel that is usually enough to get them to shut up and leave him alone. Not wanting anyone to know about his predicament, Kayn hid the blade left behind by the darkin dagger within his robe and didn’t take it out until he got to his room.

He locked his door and put the weapon down onto his desk, Rhaast a few feet away from him on his bed. He stares at it, occasionally pacing back and forth as he recalls everything he’s been told thus far.

“So, this blade…” he starts, “it belongs to your darkin sister, Naafiri? Or… one of her hounds, I should say?”

How perceptive of you. Why can’t you be like this more often?

Kayn scoffs.

“I’ve put up with the way you’ve been acting for long enough, Rhaast.” He glares at the weapon, its eye staring straight back at him.

“What’s… wrong with you?” He hesitates, but continues with the same fervor he started with.

“You’re usually so quick to comment on everything. Why have you been so quiet? You’re never this… unforthcoming. Does your kin’s presence… scare you?”

I am no more afraid of her than she is of me; that is to say… I’ve no fear of her at all.

“Then… don’t you want her to find me?”

We may be brothers and sisters, children of war, but we were just as against ourselves as we were our enemies. There is more to this than merely finding us. She’s… looking for something, a place, I believe.

Kayn’s brows furrow and he realizes that, somehow, his anger has subsided. Some of it, anyhow. He’s still pretty frustrated about all of this.

“Do you know where?”

No, but now that I’ve spoken to one of her hounds and gotten familiar with her new presence, I can… sense her, to some degree. I’ve no doubt finding this place means finding her.

The assassin sighs. It would be better to confront Naafiri than allow her to find him herself. He had no idea just what to expect, nor any notion of just what else she could possibly want other than to kill him and find Rhaast a more suitable vessel… one that wouldn’t resist him, one that doesn’t essentially aim to take his power and destroy him.

That was… what he wanted… right?

Yes, yes of course. What else could he have wanted out of him?

“Fine,” Kayn sighs, “lead the way then. I’d like to get this over with.”

Are you sure you want to do that?

“I don’t see why not. I’m not afraid of you darkin.”

What about Zed’s orders? Are you not worried about disobeying him? Again?

“It’s not as though you care about that.”

I don’t, but you do.

“Since when have you ever concerned yourself with my burdens?”

Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If something goes wrong, I’ll be taking no responsibility. Unless you die. Then I’ll definitely take responsibility. No one else can have that kill other than me.

“It’s not like you ever do… or even can,” Kayn retorts, “and you can keep it to yourself. I won’t be dying anytime soon. I still have a lot more planned for this world.”

No one will ever stop him from achieving what he wants; what he knows he can get. He has mastered every weapon of war. No prattling tool will prove an exception.

Chapter Text

Kayn can be intemperate at times, but he is no fool.

He hadn’t forgotten about any of the responsibilities he had been given when Master Zed left and he wouldn’t forget about them now.

The other acolytes were young, and like himself, they could be troublesome and get into unnecessary skirmishes solely due to the fact that they too were inexperienced with life outside of war. Every little interaction invokes a sense of self-preservation. Every little interaction reminds you that, from even the smallest mistake, the world can be cruel and that you should do everything it takes to maintain what little peace you had managed to obtain. You worked hard for it. You deserved it. The assassin understands this, he understands them and perhaps far more than his master ever could if only due to their difference in age, which makes ascertaining harmony easier for him.

When he knows that they can be left alone, he heads out into the forest- notably much more prepared this time. A darkin seeks to find him. He still doesn’t know whether or not she may want him dead and obviously Kayn isn’t planning on dying anytime soon.

It’s colder now. It’s a little cloudy, but nothing signals rain. Kayn is usually unbothered by this weather, but it was enough to encourage him to leave the temple in a lengthy blue robe that only exposed his left side, the darkin corruption of his body on full display.

It spanned from his waist to his pectoral, trailing all the way up before stopping at his neck. His left arm, fully corrupted, has always been visible to others… whenever it decides to be anyway. Sometimes, with enough meditation, the corruption would temporarily fade and his regular human anatomy would return. Other than his left eye, nowhere else was corrupted… nowhere he was willing to discuss at least. He wonders if Rhaast has ever had any control over that.

If he did, then he would say that the darkin had some seriously questionable choices.

As usual, Kayn cares not much for the excess hair that occasionally covers his visage and rather than braid his hair, he ties it up into a long ponytail that he figures would be much less annoying to deal with if things were to get messy again.

Moving through the thick green brush, Kayn is unusually quiet. He has not much reaction to anything until what little of a conversation there was shifts from following directions to commenting on his appearance.

You look much better like that, you know. I think she’ll like you.

Kayn’s brows furrow until he realizes that Rhaast was probably talking about the corruption that his use of the weapon had spread all over his body.

“Did you do this?” He asks, only elaborating due to how inherently silly such a question was by itself.

“Is there any particular reason you wanted my arm to look like this over… say… my face?”

Oh, I’ve no control over that. Not entirely. You take what you can get… and what I’ve gotten is what you’ve allowed. You value your looks far too much to let me have something like that.

“I… see.” He hesitates, only due to what else he realized it was implying.

Something is troubling you, the darkin mocks. Don’t like my adjustments? I was said to be rather good-looking, you know.

“You… I mean, you can see all of me, can’t you? You know where it is and where it isn’t.” He remarks, albeit a little nervously.

What are you trying to say?

Rhaast has no face, no body, but Kayn can tell that he would be smiling right now.

“You… it—“ he frowns and shakes his head, “nevermind.”

Rhaast laughs.

I’m aware, Kayn, and it’s just as amusing to me as you think it is. You must be so embarrassed over the change in appearance of your—

“Don’t. Don’t say it.” He grimaces, his face dusted rose. He doesn’t want to think about this any further than he already has. He regrets even asking.

“Directions, Rhaast. You’re the one who knows where we’re going.” He demands, still a little flustered.

Oh, alright. I’ll spare you this once. Behind that rock, just across the creek.

“How can you even be sure of where you’re taking me?” Kayn then questions as he continues moving. “It feels as though we’re going nowhere.”

Naafiri’s emanation will take some getting used to. Her new vessel is still foreign to me. Eventually, however, you’ll be able to track her down yourself.

“By what? Just… talking to her?”

Precisely.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Not even a little, Rhaast laughs, but you have my own power within you now. Whatever works for me will probably work for you.

“How… compelling.” Kayn says, somewhat repulsed. He was nothing like Rhaast and would never want to be.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

We’re almost there.

Eventually, Kayn arrives at a swamp that seeps into the further parts of the forest through several lengthy streams, bordered by low land and stone. Ionian willows surround a large lake littered with lily pads and lotuses, sweet flags and cattails hugging its edges. There is mist in the air and the small clearing in front of the water smells of lilac and sap.

A large rock sits near the edge of the pool and atop it sits an armored red creature, a darkin, who Kayn could feel the very essence of the moment he drew near. Around them were several others of a similar shape but smaller size, crowding around them like the pack of dogs they originally were.

Naafiri.

She seems distracted by her own thoughts, at least until she acknowledges the approaching assassin with a grin. How creepy, Kayn thinks, animals should not be so capable of displaying human emotion… but she was not just any animal, was she?

The darkin dagger was just as Rhaast had described; a shuriman dune hound, no bigger than Kayn himself but notably larger than the average dog. Her closest pack mates mimic some of her movements, like the flick of her ear and the tilt of her head as starts to speak.

“Rhaast, is that you? Love the new vessel… albeit you sure are taking your time with it.”

She narrows her eyes at the man.

“I would have much preferred our conversation be private, but I suppose your life is enough of a trade for your secrecy.”

“You say that as though I couldn’t cut you down myself.” Kayn retorts.

Naafiri laughs. “Ego is an illusion, a survival trick for a feeble mind, but I like you. You and Rhaast are not so different. It’s no wonder he’s struggling with you.”

‘This vessel is capable of incredible power… and doesn’t have flees. I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, sister.’

Kayn doesn’t realize he’s smiling at that until he has to actively stop doing it.

He knows just how strong he can be. If anything, he would argue that Rhaast was the one holding him back. He doesn’t need to hear anything from him. He doesn’t need such… meaningless validation. The darkin’s thoughts meant nothing to him.

It… did feel pretty good to hear though.

“You take what you can get, Rhaast,” she remarks, amused, “isn’t that what you used to say?”

‘You seem to desire something specific. What did you want me here for?’

The dune hound grins, gesturing with her head towards the water.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it? It’s a shame that… soon, it will be destroyed.”

Whatever she considered eyebrows furrowed, wry smile slowly dwindling into a look of disenchantment.

“I’ve found Aatrox, but he hasn’t found me. When he finds this place… he won’t think twice about it.”
She states and the moment she does, Kayn feels a heat on his palm as raw emotion pulsed through the scythe.

“Aatrox?” He asks, puzzled. “I assume this must be another darkin?”

“Our… general, yes.” Her hesitance confuses him, but he does not dare interrupt.

“I believe that, as one, we darkin can become stronger and greater than we once were. Aatrox seeks total oblivion. He will destroy any and everything if it means putting an end to our captivity, our suffering. I would be lying if I said I would not fight alongside him… but if I can avoid him, I will. If only to buy time to find the others.”

‘You want me to join you.’

“Precisely. This world deserves better than to be needlessly ravaged by those stuck within the past. Reunited, we are the rightful rulers of Runeterra. We should’ve been. We’ve spent far too long imprisoned, disillusioned by petty, personal grudges.”

More warmth emanates from the darkin scythe and this time Kayn’s hand instinctively gives the handle of the weapon a light squeeze. It was starting to worry him… but it was probably just nothing. This weapon was alive, after all. This was to be expected.

“You should already know that I will do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He interjects. “It’s bold of you to so recklessly admit such things in front of me. What I know, the order will know too. We’re not afraid of you.”

Naafiri glares at him, though her eyes don’t linger for long. They instead are quick to find his weapon, locking onto the eye that only stares back, until she answers.

“I’ve only two reasons not to kill you right now, boy. For one, I’m offering you my mercy. Consider it a temporary truce. I’d rather not start more conflict with more of my kin.” She growls. “Secondly….”

Naafiri pauses, her eyes narrowing, seemingly changing her mind in an instant.

“Perhaps I should let Rhaast tell you the rest. The two of you have been like this for quite some time now. I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

“Know… what?” He questions, looking at the scythe. Rhaast doesn’t look back.

‘It doesn’t matter’, the darkin declares, ‘where is Aatrox now?’

“He is here, looking for me. I only came here to talk to you. After I’ve found Varus, I’ll return to Shurima. The longer I take, the closer Aatrox is to finding me.”

‘Demon-pants? He’s here too?’

A brow raises at the nickname, but she doesn’t think to question it.

‘I thought he left Ionia because of…’

“Xolaani. I’ve… yet to find out whether or not he’s survived.” She seems somewhat remorseful.

“Aatrox hates her with a passion and he’s right to. That coward makes a mockery of the unity that I seek to establish.”

Her ears suddenly turn. She and her pack perk up, seemingly having found something the assassin couldn’t see.

“I must go,” she then declares, “I will return once more to properly bid you farewell. For now…”

She narrows her eyes at the assassin. He sighs.

“I’ll agree to this respite, then, if only out of my own curiosity.”

“Don’t let Aatrox find you. He doesn’t know that you’re here. Feign confidence all you like, but even I would not dare raise a blade to the neck of our general. Rhaast is no different.”

"I wouldn’t want to anger him anyhow," he’d answer honestly, "darkins don’t exactly like humans. My existence alone is a bad enough first impression."

Another feeling warms the assassin’s hand. This time, it’s different… but he couldn’t really tell why.

Naafiri leaps off of the rock, pausing when she nears the tall grass.

“Before I go… what is your name, little one?”

“Kayn.” He answers, partially offended. She’s smaller than he is, but okay.

“Kayn,” she repeats, “until we meet again.”

‘Don’t die.’

“Let’s hope your vessel doesn’t either.” She says with a grin before disappearing into the forest.

Kayn keeps that promise. Not a word of the darkin’s arrival is spoken to the other members of the Order of Shadow and the assassin sees to his various responsibilities as he initially would have without the looming threat of an ancient being as dangerous as Aatrox.

He garners no more information out of the darkin scythe other than a description of the aforementioned beast; an immortal and colossal monster bigger than even the temple, capable of growing to a size that even the surrounding mountains could not compete with. Aatrox’s darkin curse requires him and his kin to sustain themselves with the flesh and blood of humans, who they see as little more than a means of maintaining their eldritch forms.

If he were to locate the temple, he would not think twice about it… just as he would not with the swamp that they had visited prior.

Kayn wonders why the darkin dagger seemed so particularly partial towards it.

Chapter Text

Three days have passed since Master Zed left with some of the other acolytes. Their journey must be perilous, Kayn thinks, but nothing they couldn’t handle. He awaits his master’s return without any worry whatsoever.

Having had time to rest and care for himself, he feels far better than he did that horrid night prior. Any injuries he amassed heal quickly, leaving only small scars that he knows will disappear one way or another. Hemomancy was another perk of the darkin’s power, albeit a much weaker version of it. Minor benefits such as that remind him that the struggle against the darkin was worth it. Long ago, he would have to wait weeks to recover. Now, it takes only a few days.

For some reason though, Rhaast often helps him. He stops his bleeding, mends skin and bone and will lessen the pain in the midst of a fight. Kayn rationalizes; perhaps it’s no surprise to see him work so desperately to keep him alive… as without Kayn’s flesh, what else did he really have?

What did he really hope to achieve through the violent whispers and vague promises? Other than his peculiar personality, Kayn only knows of his desire to corrupt his mind and steal his body. His will alone was the only thing barring him from his freedom.

Sometimes, however, it didn’t feel that way. Kayn often put that thought aside.

Again… that’s ridiculous, he thinks. Rhaast— no, a darkin could never care about its host.

You’re talking to yourself again.

“I was thinking to myself,” he remarks as calmly as he could, hoping that the darkin hadn’t paid attention to the rest of his thoughts, “it’s impossible to do so when you’re always listening.”

I’m the greatest friend you could ever have. I’ll always be there for you, watching you in your sleep and there to watch you when you die.

“I’d rather anyone else.”

Why would you want anyone else when you have me, Kayn?

That question alone earned an amused exhale from his nose in response. As admittedly charming and amusing as he could be, anyone was better company than Rhaast.

Don’t laugh. Is what you know of my power not enough? If it bothers you so, there is more to learn.

“Really?” He questions sarcastically. “What else is there to know?”

Give in, and I will show you.

Kayn laughs lowly, shaking his head. Talk like this was nothing new. The darkin was always trying to get into his head more figuratively than he usually was whenever he saw ample opportunity. Maybe he was making himself seem too defenseless at the moment; a far too inaccurate picture of him he thinks.

“If I were that easy to manipulate, we wouldn’t be here… now would we?” He grins.
“Underestimate me at your peril, darkin. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Then tell me Kayn, do you see yourself working with me?

The question caught him off guard, but he answers honestly.

“I… already do, don’t I?”

It’s quiet for a moment. Was he… hesitating?

You don’t like me and I don’t like you. A beautiful, budding friendship.

Kayn laughs, but he has to pretend he doesn’t notice the sudden weight in his chest. His smile dwindles quickly, brows furrowing with not the resolve of a man who seeks to rid himself of the curse placed upon him but with the dejection of someone who feels… slighted by something.

You don’t like me and I don’t like you, he repeats inwardly.

Of course. They couldn’t have it any other way.

... so then, why does he feel so… bothered… about that?

“Rhaast,” he then starts suddenly, “Naafiri said that you had not yet told me something.”

Silence. Kayn’s brows furrow in frustration.

“What was it? What are you not telling me?”

She… may have been referring to the growing physical bond that you and I have due to your use of me. Perhaps, now that I can control you to some degree, she could sense that.

“I see…” he says, but wasn’t wholly satisfied with that answer. Something was… off.

The two of you have been like that for quite some time now, she had said. This, however, was recent.

Was there something else that neither of them were aware of? Was Rhaast… still just not telling him?

The assassin sighs and puts the thought aside for now. Although the temporary possession perturbs him, Rhaast most likely had not enough power to do anything substantial. For now, such a matter could be considered another time.

He’d get a confession out of him eventually.

“You can’t keep using that darkin as an excuse, you know.” Yusari contends.

Kayn narrows his eyes at the vastayan acolyte, unable to resist occasionally glancing up at the taller man’s fluffy ears just barely given room to breathe outside of the mask he wore. He could never take that stupid helmet seriously.

“What did you just say?” The assassin scowls, the luminosity of his darkin eye intensifying.

“Y-You…” he stutters, “you’re always on our ass like you’re better than us. I get it, you’re Zed’s favourite student… but without that thing, you wouldn’t be so strong.”

Kayn laughs lowly.

“You’ve barely the resolve to speak against me, let alone the will to resist a darkin. You seem to not understand that only I have what it takes to wield this weapon.”

The assassin grips the scythe before studying it carefully, Rhaast’s darkin eye staring right back up at him.

“I may be weaker without him, but even then I’ll still be powerful.”

The vastaya groans, rolling his eyes. “If you love that darkin so much, why don’t you just marry him?”

“Return to your training, Yusari,” Kayn commands, “lest you wish to know how it feels to harbour a mind as dark as this one.”

He grins, threatening him by holding the weapon up to the exposed skin on his face. The half-spirit grimaces, leaning away before turning to join the others amidst their sparring.

“Whatever.” He mutters and Kayn sees it a fitting time to step away.

“Why don’t you just marry him, huh?” He repeats lowly as he walks down the temple hall, still somewhat amused.

Ugh, marriage.

“Not a fan of matrimony? Bad ex or something?” He jokes.

I’m just repulsed by any and everything that involves holding me back. I will not be tied down by something so pathetic.

“Is it really so binding if you’re with someone that you love?”

I never took you for the lovey dovey type. Gross.

“I’m not. It’s no more than a thought.” He chuckles.

You do think about some questionable things.

‘Like what?’ he wants to ask, but he doesn’t. Not this time. He’d rather not find out that Rhaast knows about something he shouldn’t. If it wasn’t enough to garner an immediate reaction out of him, perhaps it was no concern at all.

So what about it? Would you marry me, Kayn?

The assassin sputters out of shock alone, but ultimately ends up laughing at the question.

“I’d rather play dead at a necrophilliac convention.”

Kinky. Maybe you would make a good husband, actually.

“Quiet, Rhaast,” he huffs, albeit a little flustered, “that’s enough out of you.”

He’d also rather not think of the implications of such a bizarre compliment.

Kayn eventually returns to the privacy of his room, or at least that’s what he should have been coming back to. Isolation only ever reminded him of the fact that he could never truly call himself alone anymore. Rhaast would always be watching… and became seemingly more attentive when he began undressing. The assassin pretends he doesn’t feel as though he were being gawked at.

I like to think that my adjustments have done you well.

“They’re… certainly something. Helpful, sometimes, but I’d like to keep the rest of me if you don’t mind.”

The rest of you? So you’re fine with that I’ve taken?

Kayn opens his mouth, but pauses before answering. He feels as though he were walking into a trap.

“Are you going somewhere with this?” He asks cautiously.

You’ve utilized my additions just as much as I would have myself. You’ve used my claws to tear into the flesh of your enemies, invoked fear into the hearts of men with my deep red gaze.

The assassin’s brows furrow and he tries to distract himself with the clothing he was currently folding in his arms. He looks to the side silently, awaiting some sort of finale to this tease.

All of this and yet you’ve still not yet used… well, y’know.

Kayn swallows, trying hard to ignore the newfound heat in his rubescent face.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” He lies.

Don’t pretend you don’t know, Kayn. It’s your body. We can both see it.

“You—“

-have my magical monster cock now, the darkin interrupts, much to the assassin’s chagrin.

The grip he has on the fabric tightens and he feels his face grow warmer.

“I-I…. It’s—“ he huffs, “why did you even… do that? Was that really necessary?”

I take what I can get, Kayn… even if that includes your dick. Rhaast laughs.

Besides, when are you going to use that thing anyway? I know how much you’ve been holding out on allowing yourself relief from certain stresses…

“I’ve used it enough.” He remarks, still embarrassed.

Once, he clarifies, before it had even changed.

“I didn’t know that you would be watching me then. What are you? Some kind of voyeur?”

What about that assassin chick you flirted with once? She seemed pretty interested in you.

Rhaast chuckles. I won’t watch, I promise.

“Akali turned me down and I’m not one to be pushy about that kind of thing… though she might reconsider if I asked her again.”

Kayn scowls, an expression he would see reflected right back at him through his mirror, aimed at the darkin who he knew could and would see it.

“But I’m probably not going to do that, since I know you’d be watching like a creep. I’m not that desperate, Rhaast.”

You needn’t be desperate to indulge yourself in the pleasures of human desire. If you want… I could help you, you know.

“Help me?” Kayn’s eyes widen. “Are you insane? Actually, why am I even asking that? Of course you are. You’ve been stuck in there for centuries.”

He turns to look at the scythe, who would only look him up and down now that he had finally finished clothing himself. All of this just because he wanted to change into something more comfortable…

“You’ve always been a bit of a pervert, Rhaast… but I never once thought you would stoop this low.”
He says but despite the certainty in his voice, Kayn’s face was still undeniably red.

Questions and curiosities are all I can have if not a body. I can and will ask whatever I want.

The assassin sighs and shakes his head, turning away. He supposes he couldn’t argue with that. Maybe attempting to clean up his room a bit would help get his mind off of all of that.

Or… maybe it wouldn’t. He couldn’t help but think about it further.

“Even if I did want to do anything with you… it’s not like I know what you look like.”

Neither did he know just why he was entertaining such a ridiculous suggestion.

It’s not like Rhaast would answer to anything else. He had already tried questioning him further about the other darkin to no avail.

Much to his surprise, however, he doesn’t respond.

Good, he thinks, it’s not like Rhaast meant any of what he said anyway…

He was probably just messing with him.

… right?

Chapter Text

“You’re being weird, Rhaast.”

“I’d like to think that this falls in line with everything I’ve done thus far.”

“You’re seriously still insisting on that ridiculous suggestion of yours?” Kayn asks, trying his best not to shudder against the darkin’s touch.

Rhaast’s clawed hand travels down from under the assassin’s chin to his chest, unabashed in its exploration of the exposed skin. It was cold; armored fingers surprisingly gentle across warm, only somewhat softer flesh.

“You mean dream sex?” The darkin asks, half-joking. “Yeah, pretty much. I don’t see why not.”

Kayn pushes his hand away, inwardly scolding himself for allowing such a thing to take place. The taller being laughs, sitting next to him on the bed that he would only then imagine to be there. His proximity was alarming in itself, if only because it felt as though he were really right there.

Kayn couldn’t really tell…

Is that really him… or is this some kind of made-up version of him?

Rhaast would often be there, prying into his dreams whenever he had the chance, observing him and everything he thought about in his sleep. Although he would acknowledge his presence, Kayn had never once actually confronted him from within. He would just leave him be, at most looking right back at him as the darkin continued to stare from the shadows.

Kayn falls back onto the soft mattress, closing his eyes to avoid looking at his monstrous companion.

“I want to wake up already… this is so absurd.” He complains, his calm only interrupted by the hand he then feels crawling up his thigh.

“Rha—“

The darkin silences him with a finger to his lips, his iron thumb slipping into his mouth before he could deny such an erotic action. Kayn murmurs into his hand unable to speak, most likely some form of complaint before Rhaast’s other hand would surprise him by reaching down at his groin. When he feels him claw his hand, just barely groping the sensitive region, he jolts up and practically spits his finger straight out of his mouth.

“W-What are you doing?!” He questions, shoving every part of the darkin he could still feel touching him away. “I-I… I said no already.”

Rhaast holds his hands up defensively with a shrug.

“Alright, alright. It’s not like I can force you to do anything. I don’t want to either.”

Kayn just stares at him, beet red, only then sighing after he’s calmed down. He’s even more shocked by the fact that he would so willingly obey him, but says nothing of it. He falls back onto the bed, folding his arms this time.

“Good thing this is all just a dream, right?” Rhaast asks, grinning, the question earning a look of surprise from the assassin which then quickly turns into embarrassment.

It’s then that Kayn realizes that he’s never really taken the time to observe what little he could always see of the darkin’s face through his dreams.

“What a shame. You look good like this.”

Rhaast laughs, amused by more than just the assassin’s expression.

Fake or not, he knew that the acolyte couldn’t tell whether or not he was the real Rhaast and hadn’t said anything to confirm nor deny his identity, most likely on purpose. That in itself was humorous to him and Kayn hated every moment of it. His own consciousness could have been taunting him or it could have been the real Rhaast messing with him. He still couldn’t tell.

“Maybe this will help you wake up.” He suddenly says and yet again Kayn is bombarded by sensations he never would have asked for.

Rhaast’s threatening visage getting closer is all he could see before he suddenly finds himself gasping for air, notably in his real bed with no one there other than himself.

He sighs, groaning, before attempting to move his arm until he realizes that his hand was just about halfway down into his pants. Flustered, he quickly pulls his arm away, even more surprised to find a human arm where a darkin one should have been. He touches the skin around his left eye.

Nothing.

He hadn’t meditated at all, nor was he anything close to calm. How had this happened again?

Kayn opens his mouth, but doesn’t dare utter the darkin’s name… not immediately after what he had just dreamt about. He turns to look at the wall, eyes widening when he’s met with… again, nothing.

“Rhaast?” He asks… somewhat cautiously.

Panicked eyes dart around the room, even checking under his pillows.

Where is he?!

It’s not as though it were easy to lose track of a sentient, somewhat organic scythe with a giant glowing eyeball on it. He leaves him leaning against wall every night when he goes to sleep. Even after their bizarre conversation, that had not changed. He locks his door and is more than certain that no one could have gotten inside.

Rhaast had seemingly just… vanished, including the physical corruption he had spread all over him.

Kayn takes a deep breath, then sighs. There was no need to freak out about this. He would find him sooner or later. Even now, their physical bond still remains. He could feel him.

Rhaast is somewhere not too far away… but he’s faint. It doesn’t quite feel like him either. It feels like the fading memory of him, waiting, hidden behind something that distorts his image.

More importantly, he’s alive… as alive as he could be, anyhow.

The assassin sits up, pausing at the edge of his bed. He could go through his usual morning routine without looking suspicious, couldn’t he? It wasn’t as if the other acolytes hadn’t seen him without the darkin corruption before.

It certainly would be odd to leave the monastery without his weapon on top of that, though…

No matter. First, he deals… with…

Kayn looks down, only then recognizing the familiar feeling of an uncomfortable tent at the front of his pants. His face reddens and an involuntary groan escapes him.

You have got to be kidding me.

It wasn’t the dream. It definitely wasn’t the dream. No way could it have been the dream.

Surely, this was just a coincidence.

Whatever. It’s not like he ever deals with this anyway. Not when he knew Rhaast could be watching.

Although…

Kayn looks over at the empty space next to the wall, then back down at his… problem.

He shakes his head before immediately standing up.

What am I thinking?!

He had better and far more important things to do. There was no time for… that, of all things.

… as much as he really, really wanted to.

Tying his hair up into the laziest ponytail known to man, Kayn walks down the empty temple hallway with notable haste and gradually increasing anxiety driving him forward. When he turns the corner, he’s forced to stop due to almost running into someone. He opens his mouth to speak, but is stunned when he recognizes the man in front of him.

“Master Zed?” He questions, startled. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”

“I told you to make sure that nothing happened while I was away. I found two of them arguing and fighting with each other over something trivial on the way here.”

“That sounds about right. Nothing out of the ordinary, master.” He answers with a grin.

Zed sighs through his nose, albeit somewhat amused.

“I suppose you aren’t wrong.” He says with a wry smile that disappears as quickly as it came. It’s only then that Kayn notices the bandages wrapped around his master’s shoulder.

“What happened?” He asks, eyeing the injury.

“We were found while following a lead. Noxians carrying the materials for those bombs. Someone else attacked us at night… and I was careless. I’ve no intention of stopping now, but while I returned for supplies I realized that I may need you for this mission.”

Me? Right now?

Kayn’s lips part silently and he does little to hide the distress.

“I… can’t.” He says, looking aside with visible shame in his eyes.

He loathes this feeling; the feeling of letting down the one person who mattered to him.

Kayn, you fool…

At first, Zed says nothing, only eyeing him silently before those very same eyes lower to his arm then go right back up to his face.

“I…” Kayn starts, “It’s… the—“

“Your eye… and your arm,” Zed interrupts, “it’s to do with that darkin, isn’t it?”

The younger assassin’s eyes widen slightly and he only calms when he then remembers just how easy it is for his master to figure him out. He’s sometimes a little thankful for it. He doesn’t need to say anything more for the older man to understand his plight.

“It… is. I’m sorry, master.”

“Don’t be sorry. I understand just as much as you do how important it is to keep that thing contained. The state of our mission isn’t so dire that you put aside such a matter for it.”

“Thank you, Master Zed. I appreciate your leniency with me.”

More than you’ll ever know, he thinks.

“Whatever the case, I still need you ready to act in case something does happen. I’ll have one of the others contact you if that comes to be.”

“I won’t disappoint you, master.”

“You never have.” He says and Kayn feels every ounce of tension leave him then and there.

As the young assassin travels through the forest once more, he resonates with the last conversation he had with his master before he had yet again left for his mission.

“When you first obtained Rhaast, I was impressed… but weary,” he had said, “I thought, for only a moment, that I had lost my most loyal student to the dark whispers of that ageless being.”

It was his destiny to wield the darkin scythe, or so he would say to his master. It was what he had always believed.

“I’ve always…”

Kayn remembers that distinct pause in Zed’s words, the quiver in his distant eyes, like it would have been his greatest regret to misspeak then and only then.

“I’ve always thought of you as capable of surpassing me one day, Shieda.” He had said.

“Don’t let me down. Don’t do something foolish, lest you wish to waste the knowledge of everything I’ve ever taught you.”

Zed’s eyes glimmered with remorse.

“If you ever lose to that darkin, then it means I have failed.”

Kayn sighs, brows furrowing in frustration. He suddenly felt sick.

It wasn’t losing to the weapon that he feared… it was losing him, the being trapped within.

Why was he even thinking like that at all? Had Rhaast… already won? Had he finally managed to corrupt his mind and manipulate his emotions? Why would a darkin do something like that?

What made it all worse was the fact that he couldn’t tell Master Zed what felt so wrong. He could not admit to even himself that he was… he…

The very thought threatens to kill his resolve. He grimaces.

“No, no, no…” He chants in a whisper. “That’s ridiculous.”

I’m not worried about him. I don’t care.

I do not have feelings for a darkin.

It isn’t until he properly stops to observe his surroundings does he realize that he’s returned to the hidden swamp that Naafiri had introduced him to.

Rhaast is here. He could feel it.

He leans to look behind a tree at the edge of the clearing, quickly hiding again when he spots two figures near the lake.

One is a man of average height, holding a bow of an odd purple magical material. He had long silver locks and glowing white eyes lacking irises made somewhat less fierce by his lengthy feather-like lashes. His arms and legs, albeit an entirely different colour, were no doubt darkin anatomy. While he could not identify the origin of his black crown or the pendant around his neck, Kayn could recognize this as the man that Rhaast had once described to be Varus, the arrow of retribution.

Next to him, sitting atop the large rock within the water, was a taller human man. Long dark dreadlocks decorated with beads and rhinestones partially tied into a ponytail somewhat cover his visage, leaving the assassin just barely capable of looking into bright hazel eyes. He had chocolate skin, a stark contrast to the shimmering golden jewellery that decorates his upper half. He wears no shirt, ornate treasures of red and blue hanging from his neck and shoulders. Thin circular rings interlocked with themselves hang from his ears, one connected by a small chain to a golden ring on the left side of his nose. There is Shuriman imagery tattooed all over his body, his clothing undeniably of the same origin.

When he speaks, his voice sends shivers down Kayn’s spine.

“Not the face I was expecting to see first, I’ll be honest,” he starts. That rumbling sound, no different, still echos throughout the reaches of his mind as all words of the darkin do, “but I guess that makes things easier. You at least would recognize me. Right, Varus?”

A golden tooth glistens with his smile.

… Rhaast?

It was not the darkin Rhaast, it was… Rhaast; the man he had presumably been before he had been imprisoned- before he had even ascended as a god-warrior of Shurima.

It was the very same man he had seen in his dreams.

Kayn’s eyes shift frequently between the two, but he cannot help but stare at the darker warrior. He looked powerful, he looked respectable… he looked strong.

Rhaast, the human being Rhaast, was… undeniably beautiful.

Kayn still couldn’t even believe that what he was observing was supposed to be him. That voice; that deep, sometimes horrifying voice, did not fit the noble man he was looking at. His brother, partially human himself, was no different in that regard.

“I had not expected to see you either, brother… especially not as… yourself.” Varus responds with a raised brow.
“Your calm disposition told me that it was all but permanent. That… and I can see your weapon right next to you.”

The darkin scythe leans against the side of the rock, partially submerged in the water. The eye at the heel of the blade, usually a burning crimson, remains closed. Kayn’s hand twitches, like it had just realized it was missing something.

“It’s the water I believe,” Rhaast explains, “somehow it… reveals things lost to the past. Shows you memories. Stare into it for too long and you might just lose yourself.”

He shakes his head. Clearly he had been stuck here for quite some time before either of them had found him.

“It’s no wonder why Naafiri seemed so upset at the prospect of Aatrox destroying this place. I figured Kayn would be the first to find me… but I’m actually kind of relieved that it’s you.”

His brows furrow and he looks down into the water in thought.

“I don’t want him to see me like this. This isn’t the person I am anymore.”

Rhaast passes a hand through his darkin companion and all Varus can feel is cool mist as his brother’s forearm temporarily dematerializes. This memory of his body isn’t real. He is still trapped within that accursed weapon. He sighs as he waits for his hand to reform before setting it back down at his side.

“These warriors… Rhaast, Naafiri and Varus; they’re long gone. They’re dead now. We’re what’s left of them.”

Rhaast scowls and it takes some effort not to speak through gritted teeth.

“You’re at least lucky, Varus, to have two humans who can keep you sane. They remind you of who you were- what you were in a way that benefits you. My memories just make me bitter. I can’t imagine what Aatrox is going through if he only sees death as the end all be all of our kin.”

Varus considers those words before sighing.

“I would not call what I … what we have… sanity.” The archer says in response.
“We are barely held together as it is, barely out of reach of each other’s throats.”

He opens his mouth to continue, but pauses suddenly as if someone had interrupted him. He shakes his head, seemingly disapproving of something.

“Still, I suppose it is a better fate than yours. Perhaps we should warn our siblings about… Ionian vessels.” He then says with a grin.

“I’d rather the shadow assassin. Three is a crowd and I was never one for crowds. That’s usually why I killed them.” Rhaast laughs lowly.

“Maybe you’re the lucky one then, for your vessel to be a man already anointed in the blood of those he has slaughtered. You must revel in it, albeit pained by your inability to act upon similar urges.”

“Oh, I do… but time has taught me patience. Soon, it will not have mattered.”

Kayn’s brows furrow at that, not because of what he had said but because of how strangely he had said it. Why did it sound so much more sorrowful than it should have been?

Varus didn’t even notice. Was he just… hearing things?

“Speaking of Kayn, better take me back before he finds us here. I can feel him getting closer.”

Rhaast blinks and grimaces for a moment, but then chuckles wholeheartedly.

“Poor choice of words… but you know what I meant.”

“You needn’t make it any more disturbing, brother. You’ve told me enough in that regard.”

Rhaast’s image within the lake disappears the moment he is removed from the water. Varus wields the weapon without consequence, but it wasn’t as if he could be corrupted. Him also being a darkin meant that nothing would really happen, other than perhaps the two of them sharing thoughts for a moment or two. The assassin wonders why it sounded like he was speaking to someone other than Rhaast as they leave until he picks up on the fact that two humans were trapped within Varus’ psyche.

He follows them as they travel through the forest, only then understanding what they had in mind when Varus leaves his darkin brother somewhere near the monastery in a place particular to Kayn himself.

It was a small garden of no flowers, just various plants and odd trees that he would sometimes come to in order to think. Something nags at him when he surmises that leaving him there must have been Rhaast’s idea, but he doesn’t think about it any further than that.

He waits an appropriate amount of time before pretending to locate the weapon, greeted by its voice resonating inside of his mind.

How disappointing. You took your time in finding me. I thought we were friends, the darkin jests.

Kayn looks at him on the ground with narrowed eyes, almost immediately annoyed, but the very fact that he is annoyed at all by Rhaast rather than anything else brings him a sense of comfort. He grabs the scythe angrily.

Yes, annoy me, I hate you. I don’t feel any other type of way about you, you nuisance.

What’s got you so angry? I was the one who got kidnapped by… actually, I don’t even know. I’m not really sure how I got where I was. I should probably be alarmed by that but… eh.

“I shouldn’t have to go out of my way to find my own weapon. I have better things than that to do, Rhaast.”

Looks like you’re not worried about it either.

“I—“ Kayn stops himself. It was pretty concerning, actually, but he chocks it up to being nothing worth caring about. He’s had enough for one morning already.

“That’s enough out of you.” He settles for instead.

I missed you too, Kayn. He laughs.

The assassin’s eye twitches and he swears there’s something writhing around in his chest. Those words get to him more than he would ever be willing to admit.

“Shut up.” He huffs.

I… missed you too.

So… did you make use of the time you had away from me?

“What are you on about?” Kayn asks, currently in the process of making himself a cup of tea. He could really use it right about now.

You know…

There’s a sensation driving through his chest, as though an external force were trying to persuade him to look down. His eyes find only his hands, until he then understands just what the darkin may have been hinting at and his face turns a shade of red.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He says with a glower.

You really didn’t? How unfortunate.

“I had better things to do, Rhaast!” He argues before then hissing, having accidentally picked up the hot porcelain without thought. He forgot that his darkin features had not yet returned.

“I’m…” Kayn sighs, picking up the cup carefully this time, “I just didn’t need to.”

You had ample opportunity to rid yourself of that stress and yet here you are. Why don’t you do it now, since you don’t have to worry about anything else anymore?

“I’m not doing that.” He asserts before glancing downwards. “… and I don’t need to, anyway.”

I’m sure you needed to earlier.

Kayn pauses, his lips just over the edge of the cup.

“What? What makes you say that?” He asks, only a little panicked.

It... that wasn’t the real Rhaast in that dream, was it?

Well, the urge sometimes comes to you in the morning, doesn’t it?

“S... Sometimes.”

It was just a coincidence. It was just a stupid coincidence.

He doesn’t know. He shouldn’t know. He wasn’t even there.

“I still don’t need to.”

Though… he could really use it right about now. It wasn’t as if there was anything else to do.

Kayn swallows hard. Rhaast hadn’t even said another word but he was beginning to feel a little… warm. He makes the impulsive decision to suddenly drink all of his tea in one go, then clasps a hand over his mouth as he proceeds to try ignoring all of the incoming pain.

Ooh, hardcore. Do it again.

The assassin groans in agony, but takes the darkin’s satisfaction with his suffering as an inherent positive. He was distracted now and Kayn was in far too much pain to go ahead with any of what he may have been tempted with.

He hopes he never has to do that again.

The expedition involving the Noxians was seemingly being handled just fine, as Master Zed had still not asked for his help again after allowing him time to solve the sudden disappearance of the darkin.

Even now, Kayn does not worry. Updates come now and then through some of the other members of the Yánléi and his leadership skills have improved over the years. Other than the occasional red herring, nothing of note happens within the temple and Kayn is grateful for that.

When the darkin is generous enough to allow him time to think, however, he yet again recalls that conversation he had with his master.

If you ever lose to that darkin, then it means I have failed.

The man’s words dig into him like knives.

No, Master Zed… it is not you who would have failed, but me.

No matter how many mistakes he makes, Kayn respects Zed far too much to not consider him one of best. Disappointing him was worse than sin and to die would be the greatest insult. It would be especially so when he knew that… Zed probably cared about him just as much as he cared about Zed.

Kayn wonders; would his master, the man who was practically his father, still look at him the same way if he knew what blasphemous thoughts consumed his mind?

“No more..." he sighs, "I'm tired."

He may or may not have feelings for the dark creature that threatens to corrupt him and swallow him whole, but Kayn cannot lament on such thoughts aloud nor can he think about it for too long.

… lest he have Rhaast overhear and forever shatter his resolve.

Chapter Text

“So you were there.” He says before sighing. “Just how much of our conversation did you hear?”

“Not much,” the assassin admits, “is this… really what you looked like before becoming a darkin?”

Rhaast frowns, folding his arms. Even after having only seen it once, Kayn’s mind replaces the darkin’s more monstrous anatomy with his human image. He would have managed to keep his eavesdropping secret had it not been for that. Kayn, often conscious while dreaming, could never find himself capable of controlling certain aspects of his fantasies and this issue would persist especially now as he was faced with this ageless being yet again.

The darkin shrugs, shaking his head, seemingly trying to pass it off as not that big of a deal.

“Handsome, I know, but I would much rather forget about my past.”

“And why is that?”

“You should know why.” He remarks somewhat dejectedly.

Kayn’s brows furrow until he then remembers where he had seen this version of Rhaast prior; that nightmare that would come to him again and again, which he now understood to be the darkin’s memories twisted into something horrifying.

Did Rhaast often experience it too? Do darkins even dream?

The assassin frowns and decides not to question him on it further. Those visions were upsetting enough as it is. The subject seemed to bother Rhaast too from the looks of it. He supposes he’d rather not risk angering him while in such a vulnerable state.

“For the record,” Kayn then says, trying to change topic, “you’re not that good-looking.”

The Shuriman warrior laughs, sitting on what looked to be some sort of throne. Perhaps he had some level of influence within this dream, although he was surprised to find that he didn’t really mind all that much.

“I’ve always told you about how good you look, Kayn. I expected at least one compliment in return.”

“It’s not like you ever mean it.”

“What makes you say that? I’ve been genuine, I think.”

“You think?” He narrows his eyes at him.

“Kayn…” the older man coos, taking him by the wrist in order to pull him closer after he tried turning away, “look at me.”

The assassin’s cheeks turn a light shade of red as he’s forced to somewhat lean over him, ample opportunity for a far better look at his rather sleek features. Rhaast’s hazel eyes were even brighter and somehow even more breath-taking than his own, his gaze alone slowly pulling him in. He doesn’t dare move when he feels the man cup his cheek and Rhaast continues to stare even when he looks away bashfully.

“How do I look? Tell me.”

“You look… fine. As good as I do, I suppose.” Kayn admits, a small attempt at rekindling his seemingly lost confidence.

He only then realizes that his left arm, which he had been occasionally glancing at, was strangely covered in corruption despite this all taking place within a dream. Usually, here, he would have been free of the darkin’s curse. It’s not like he wanted to look like this…

“Seems as though you prefer certain aspects of me over yourself.” Rhaast observes with a grin, earning a look of disapproval. Kayn pushes his hand away from his face.

“Yeah well, that isn’t really my—“

“You know,” Rhaast interrupts, stopping him from moving away. It catches him off guard and he can’t help but be locked into place by that enthralling gaze, “my offer still stands, even now.”

Kayn blinks, bewildered, and his face reddens slightly.

“You’re not serious, are you? You’ve been going on about that for days now.”

“I’m serious,” he says, holding him by the chin in order to bring his face closer to his own, “and let’s not act as though you haven’t been considering it. Why else would you allow me this much?”

“I’ve not allowed you anything.” He remarks, pushing himself away.

“You have. I want you to. More specifically, I want you.”

The assassin, beet red, looks back at him with widened eyes.

“W-What? You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

Rhaast pulls him closer, hugging him as his lips linger just over the skin of the younger man’s stomach. Kayn shivers. He can feel each and every breath and when he threatens to kiss the soft skin, he bites his lower lip.

“You know that isn’t the case."

“R-Rhaast…”

“How long are you going to pretend that you don’t want this too? I’m… I actually don’t like being pushy, you know. You understand, don’t you? You’re no different.” He sighs.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, I am the real Rhaast. I’ve always been the real Rhaast.”

Kayn grips the man’s shoulders, incapable of doing anything other than just staring into his eyes.

His expression does not change. He really was being serious. He really was telling the truth.

The assassin’s lips part silently, so many questions pouring in at once that nothing ends up leaving him at all.

“I suppose I’ve made it more than obvious now that I’ve more than just feelings of… lust.”

“What do you feel then?” He asks expeditiously.

“Don’t make me say it.” Rhaast remarks, shaking his head. “There are other things I’d rather be doing.”

His eyes lower to his chest, lingering on places even further down until they then look back up at the acolyte’s scarlet face. He leans over and kisses Kayn’s chest, earning a soft needy hum from him.

“Rhaast, I…”

He lets out a sigh when Rhaast kisses him again and again. He was so warm. Kayn begs his own mind not to wake him up right then and there. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“I-I’ve never really… done anything like that before, you know.”

“Just relax and let me do most of the work.” The older man then says, cupping his cheek before closing the distance between the two of them.

Kayn lets out a soft moan upon the foreign feeling of another’s tongue exploring the inside of his mouth, unable to keep himself still as he’s then guided onto Rhaast’s lap. This warmth, this pleasure; he wanted more and only more. The darker man’s arms wrap around him, keeping him just as close as he wanted to be.

The assassin then breaks the kiss when one curious hand finds the hem of his pants, two fingers toying with the cloth as a way of asking permission.

He bites his lower lip, looking aside timorously before nodding silently.

He cannot meet the eyes that stare at him so lasciviously.

Kayn shudders, the hand on his back the only thing keeping him from falling and the hand now wrapped around his hard member threatening to make him lose his mind. He hugs the man, arms tightening around his neck and he almost bucks his hips into every stroke.

“R-Rhaast…” he moans, “c… could you—“

The warrior quickens his pace, looking straight up at the acolyte as he mewls in pleasure.

“Don’t finish yet, I’m not done with you.” He commands.

“I-I’mmh… not close...” Kayn barely manages.

“So cute,” Rhaast says before kissing his neck, “so needy, too. I know how badly you’ve been wanting this.”

Kayn moans again. He could barely think.

Never before would he have thought this to feel so good, let alone to be possible.

He never would have admitted to harbouring such feelings for him either…

“Use your mouth,” he suddenly demands, looking directly into Rhaast’s eyes, “please…”

“If that’s what you want.” Rhaast responds with a grin, lifting him up into his arms.

Dreaming made the transition from one location to another far easier than it usually would have been with them only having to imagine a comfortable bed just a few feet away from where they were. Kayn hugs the older man as he carries him, nuzzling into his muscular frame before gifting him light kisses.

When he lays on a bed that he soon recognizes to be decorated to the likings of Shuriman royalty, he suddenly feels watched… because he quite literally was being gawked at. With lustful eyes, Rhaast looked him up and down, taking his precious time in admiring each and every aspect of the younger man’s frame. He seemed especially interested in Kayn’s hard cock, still dripping with precum which only made toying with the tender organ much easier. He had no shame in doing so and didn’t seem to mind when the assassin himself looked down at his own erection still hidden beneath layers of clothing.

“Still don’t want to talk about it?” Rhaast suddenly asks, just barely catching the attention of the whimpering acolyte as he continues to stroke him slowly.

“Mm… about what?” He mewls.

“This,” he looks down, giving Kayn’s manhood a light squeeze, “it’s mine.”

The assassin could only stare at him, dumbfounded and horny, until he realizes that his genitals had changed to attain the same corruption it had in the real world just like his left arm and eye. His cock was a deep red with linear divots at its sides, glowing amidst the heat of darkin magic and freckled by small bits of flexible iron flesh at its base. It throbbed, eager for more attention.

He covers his face with one arm, too red to deny his embarrassment.

“I… I like it, okay? I like you. Shut up.” He murmurs. “Just keep… doing what you’re doing.”

Rhaast laughs lowly.

“So demanding…” He murmurs, grinning.

Already on his knees, he passes his tongue along the assassin’s length and that alone was enough to earn a long and drawn out sigh from Kayn as his desperate eyes looked down in search of Rhaast’s own. The assassin grips the warrior’s thick dark hair, his head tilting back as his greedy lover takes him deep into his mouth. He lets his tongue swirl around the tip before going down on him again, this time only taking about two-thirds of his length before he began moving his head up and down.

“Rhaast,” he moans, “yes, yes… fuck—“

The Shuriman warrior eyes him hungrily, his movements slow before eventually finding the rhythm that would satisfy his needy partner the most. His deep voice stimulates the sensitive skin, only accentuating the assassin’s pleasure. As he gets closer and closer to his much needed release Kayn’s grip on him tightens, the rest of his body incapable of keeping up with his aching arousal. He then forces darkin’s head down and plunges his rigid cock deeper, a loud seamy moan escaping him as he finishes into his throat.

He closes his eyes and when he comes to he’s met with not the red and gold of the pristine Shuriman bedroom he had just began growing accustomed to but instead his own room, drizzled with sweat and the scent of sex. Kayn shivers and lets out a shaky breath, still climbing down from the height of his orgasm before he then lays on his side and looks at himself.

Unsurprisingly, he would find his exposed dick limp against him with streaks of cum trailing from the tip of his inhuman cock to the mess of white on his stomach. His left hand, notably corrupted again, was wrapped around the base of his member whilst his human hand tightly gripped the darkin scythe. Although its eye hadn’t opened yet, Kayn couldn’t help but turn red the moment he saw it.

Look at you, an all too familiar voice then says, how salacious. I want to see you like this more often.

Kayn’s already rubescent face burns with the heat of embarrassment, but his grip on the scythe never falters once. He holds it closer, staring deeply into its crimson gaze as Rhaast yet again bathes the dark room in a dim scarlet light.

“Don’t say that.” The assassin lowly demands.

Don’t act like you don’t love it. It feels good when I say those things, doesn’t it?

“You’re such a pervert, Rhaast…”

Getting shy already? How cute. The darkin’s lower eyelid raises alongside his jubilation.

Did you feel good, my shadow? Don’t lie. You were pretty noisy back there.

“D… Don’t call me that,” he says, flustered, “but… yes, I did. It was… really good.”

Good. Expect it to be even better when it’s my turn.

“Your… turn?” His brows furrow in confusion and rather than lay there thinking about it, he figures he should get a head start on cleaning himself up. He had been sleeping for what felt like way too long. He didn’t even know what time of day it was.

You got to finish, but I never got to do anything other than suck you off. As much as I enjoy doing that, I’d like a little love too, you know.

Kayn’s face reddens yet again. He hadn’t even fully processed what had happened yet, let alone start thinking about what would happen the next time around. It had only just occurred to him that he had essentially agreed to that aforementioned ‘dream sex’ that the darkin offered originally.

“S… Sorry about that.” He murmurs, still a little out of it, and Rhaast merely chuckles in response.

Don’t apologize. Being imprisoned for so long has taught me patience. I’ll get what I want eventually.

“Actually, now that you bring that up…” Kayn suddenly starts with a disheartened tone, “is this… really okay? Us? Like this?”

He frowns, biting his lower lip anxiously.

“How would this even work? I… I do like you, I want to be with you but… what if we hurt each other? What if I—“

You’re overthinking it, the darkin interrupts, what we are now is what we will stay. It’s… actually not as bad as you think. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.

Kayn pauses, staring at the weapon left on his bed for a moment before picking up the clean clothes he had found for himself. He felt sticky. He needed out of this room; it’s was way too warm.

“What have you not told me?” He asks as he carries the scythe with him to the bathhouse of which was not too far away from his room.

He speaks quietly, somewhat bothered by the thought of being too loud, not that there was anyone else to be wary of. It’s morning and the other members of the order are most certainly awake, but no one else was allowed to travel through this part of the temple but him. It was like a private hallway of sorts.

When my sister said that the two of us had been like this for quite some time, she…

Rhaast sighs.

She was really referring to the fact that our… souls… our essence, if you will, have somewhat coalesced. If you die, so do I and needless to say I’ve reason to not let that happen.

Kayn opens his mouth to speak, but a fellow acolyte exiting the bathhouse forces him to keep quiet. Their brows furrow when they pass him, the other person a little bewildered to see him here with his weapon. Obviously, not a word is exchanged and Kayn enters the bathhouse without issue. With them gone, his attention is now on the darkin and the darkin alone.

I’ve… fallen for you. It’s pathetic and unbecoming of a darkin, but it’s the truth.

“Rhaast…” He says just over a whisper, then keeps quiet until safe within the isolation of one of the baths.
“It’s not pathetic. It’s… confusing, terrifying, relieving. I never thought you would ever feel this way about me.”

The assassin sighs, but a small smile finds his features.

“I never thought I would feel that way about you either.”

He leaves the darkin scythe leaning against the closest wall, looking back only to ascertain whether or not Rhaast was looking. He prepares a hot bath before undressing and unsurprisingly, the perverted being would stare at him every step of the way.

How long have you felt that way? The darkin then questions.

“I should be the one asking you that.” He says as he lowers himself into the water.

… a while, he pauses, probably. It doesn’t matter. Now, you’re stuck with me; the darkin boyfriend of your dreams.

Rhaast chuckles.

Literally.

“I’ve ignored my feelings for quite some time too. I guess dreaming helps with keeping it a secret. Although, I would like to tell Master Zed eventually…”

Must he be told everything?

“I trust him more than I trust even myself sometimes.”

Well, I can’t stop you if you do. Just… give it a while. We’ve yet to go on our honeymoon.

Kayn laughs. “You truly are something else, Rhaast. Maybe that’s why I’ve come to like you so much.”

There are many things I like about you, Kayn. Perhaps too many.

“Is that so?”

The assassin reddens a little. Malign or amatory, Rhaast always knows how to tease him.

Months prior, he would have hated it. Now, he cannot help but smile.

Kayn spends the rest of the day maintaining order within the temple. It is never all that odd to see him chuckle to himself now and then or smile at something peculiar but the gradual insanity his fellow acolytes would always blame it on was in reality with the darkin’s voice, now and then whispering things that only someone like him would find charming.

The assassin finds himself being more lenient with the other acolytes, too distracted by this newfound comfort he has when speaking to Rhaast.

“If you’re going to act better than everyone else, you should look better than everyone else,” Kayn chuckles lowly, “and so I do.”

From the second floor of the monastery, he observes the other students below as they train. They did just as he had instructed.

“Those fools often forget that I am better than they could ever hope to be. Suppose I can’t blame them… I was there once, too; cocky, naïve. I would do anything for Master Zed’s approval.”

You’ve not changed very much in that regard.

Just a few days ago, Kayn would’ve taken that as an insult. He understands it now to be little more than Rhaast’s way of playfully picking on him.

“I’ve more than just one person to oblige now.”

How sweet, he says in a sarcastic tone, I feel so special. He meant it, though.

“You’re my darkin. I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

Kayn stops in his tracks, incapable of finding comfort in anything other than the darkin scythe that he would tightly grip in his hand. Rhaast needs not say anything for him to know- to feel- that he was right there with him every step of the way. He sighs, the now familiar swamp that the darkin had aptly named The Lake of Clarity just past the tree in front of him.

Aatrox’s presence was like a heatwave; unavoidable and overwhelming. This ageless being, the respected general of a war that had taken place long before Kayn had existed, was the fourth and seemingly last that he would encounter of the five most powerful darkin said to bring ruin to the world if they were to reunite.

To find him here like this was terrifying, yet intriguing. Kayn had very little to say to these dark creatures and in turn they probably had very little to say to him, but time has procured him an innate curiosity for their kin due to his unforeseen liaison with Rhaast. Inevitably, he and the darkin inside of him will only grow closer, but if he wanted to know more about his brothers and sisters then he would have to go out of his way to do so. Rhaast couldn’t tell him everything.

Despite his reverence, however, there was one thing he would insist on letting him know; not only was there no darkin more powerful than Aatrox, but also no darkin more stubborn. Even Rhaast could not dissuade him sometimes. If he had anything to say, he doubts the ancient being would bother listening at all.

When Kayn approaches the lake, a gargantuan life form looks at him almost immediately.

The trees were just barely tall enough to hide him, his massive stature made only a fraction harder to see by his choice to sit cross-legged within the water. Instead of the terrifying creature the assassin had expected to see, the magical fluid contorts his image and he greets a human man with eyes that have seen far too much and a gaze that screams he wishes to see no more. He had russet brown skin covered in scars and dark brown hair, long and straight, that went down to his chest. Some of it was tied into a small bun at the back of his head, two metal sticks adorned with a plethora of gemstones stuck into his hair. He wasn’t dressed all too differently from how Rhaast’s human form had been, albeit a little more modest in its representation of high status and class. Apparently though, Shuriman warriors were not averse to showing off their chest.

Black eyes, as vicious as they had been previously, would never once look to the assassin with anything less than disinterest and pity. It was as though he were inherently unworthy of his acknowledgement, a mere obstacle in the way of something.

“I did not think my fellows weak, Rhaast…” the greater man starts lowly as his eyes seemingly cannot bear to look at him at that moment, “…already, you disappoint me.”

Aatrox glares at the weapon, its eye staring straight back at him.

“Clinging hopelessly to this mortal’s flesh… I should rip you out and bury you somewhere it would take these lesser creatures long to find you. Would that be enough to punish you for such worthlessness?”

‘If that was really what you wanted, then you would have done so already.’

Aatrox grits his teeth in an almost theatrical and obvious manner, like some kind of bizarre physical quirk of a creature with far too much repressed anger to know how to properly display. He turns his head quickly so that they could not see his face, for a moment quiet before he looks back at not his darkin brother but the assassin himself. His eyes are far less cruel this time, albeit tired and no less full of hate.

“I spare you not as mercy, but for the sake of the darkin you continue to imprison within yourself.”

His eyes fall then onto the weapon.

“If I did not still respect you at least that much, Rhaast—“

Aatrox stops and sighs, the fury in his eyes fading into what looked to be sorrow.

“If I did not still respect all of you that much, I would have killed each and every one of you myself.”

Kayn does not dare speak. In the presence of a creature he knew he stood no chance against, he’d rather not risk saying something that would anger him even a little.

He looks down at his weapon, who continues to stare at his general with an emotion that Kayn could not see but instead feel through their physical bond. Rhaast sighs, dispirited by not his brother’s feeble threats but by the desolation he knew his general couldn’t hide forever.

‘It seems as though there is still humanity in me, somewhere, deep down. What I want now is far different to what I would have wanted centuries ago. The others—‘

“Naafiri and Varus; they’re both here, in Ionia, I know. Do not lie to me. I am well aware of the fact that all of you have essentially been… avoiding me… for reasons I’ll never understand- for reasons I don’t think I should understand. It’s asinine. It’s unbecoming of you… of our kin.”

‘Ascension changed us, Aatrox. The sunborn’s fall from grace, our birth as darkin, changed not only what Runeterra deserved but what we deserved. Do you really think of what we want as so different from your own desires?’

“I want freedom. I want release from this wretched flesh, this prison that forces madness upon me.”

Aatrox claws his hands, eyes widened as though they had seen something beyond even him before he would recollect himself and sigh.

“This memory of me, coruscating as it is, only encourages my new dark purpose. We will never return to what we once were.”

The darkin leans forward, his head low as long locks of dark hair hide the frustrated expression that the assassin knew would be there.

“Where I was excellence, I am deformed… recast poorly with these crude materials, but this abomination of flesh well serves my murderous intent.”

Kayn’s brows furrow and he re-evaluates the darkin’s intentions as he steps closer towards the somewhat mossy lake. He never would have thought a creature so vengeful to be just as human as those he wished to slaughter. Aatrox would never admit such a similarity, he’s too stubborn for that, but perhaps that in itself could be used as evidence to prove that his humanity had not been wholly devoured by his trauma.

The assassin, much to his sentient weapon’s surprise, leaves him leaning against the rock within the water before climbing onto the large stone. His appearance does not change when he steps into the pool, the water reaching no higher than his ankles, but he swears that for a moment he could see the image of a younger version of himself and his master. It startles him briefly, but he thinks nothing of it.

The mist thickens and when the darkin general raises his head he is met with the man he knew Rhaast to be centuries ago, looking up at him with focused eyes.

“Look at you,” Aatrox chuckles dryly, shaking his head, “you stuck a chain on your face and called it an accessory. I cannot think of you as rational when you did things as ridiculous as that.”

Rhaast’s gaze softens and he grins, folding his arms before laughing.

“It’s called fashion, Aatrox, and just like with our cause you’ll learn to understand things that don’t make sense to you on the surface.”

“What is your cause? We are no longer human. We cannot pretend as though we can be anymore.”

“Worry not, I do not chase such foolish fantasies. They… vary from person to person, I suppose.”

“You mean to tell me that you wish to continue living within this world as though you are not above it?”

Rhaast looks at Kayn and for a moment he seems conflicted.

“I’ve not yet figured out exactly what I want,” he says, “but find our brothers and sisters and they’ll tell you exactly what it is they desire. For now, our plans all involve keeping this world in tact… but what happens after that might as well be your decision.”

Aatrox’s brows furrow, his frustration no less prominent than before.

“I seek only peace through oblivion and even now, that has not and will never change… but if what you say is the truth…”

He sighs.

“… then you, alongside your darkin siblings, will be of the last to meet the end.”

Aatrox looks down at him disapprovingly, like he doesn’t want to believe his own words.

“Because I respect all of you that much.”

He cares about you, Kayn thinks, and the brief and sudden glance that Rhaast accidentally gives in response tells him that even through this mist his thoughts could still be heard by him.

“If that is what General Aatrox commands, then so be it.” Rhaast says to his brother with a grin.

“Just do not fail me any more than you already have. You’ve already not succeeded in acquiring a vessel… although I suppose his resilience makes him somewhat worthy for when you do manage to attain his flesh.”

Kayn, having said nothing this entire time, looks up at the darkin general with no particular expression on his face. Aatrox raises one brow at him, confused.

“Do you not speak? You’ve been so obedient that for a while I questioned whether or not you were a mindless slave due to my brother’s incomplete transformation.”

The assassin’s lips part silently. He… actually didn’t really know how to answer to that at first.

“Who am I to intrude on a discussion like this?” He asks with a grin. “I’ve nothing to say to you, only much to learn. I never would have thought your kin to be so… interesting.”

Still cautious of the greater darkin’s anger, Kayn waits patiently for an answer and is relieved to see Aatrox seemingly at best satisfied and at worst unbothered by his response. He tried to come across as neutral yet facetious as one could possibly be in this situation. Rhaast offers only a wry smile, obviously content with that answer.

“Rhaast, I do not want to hear that you’ve fallen prey to human emotion just as Varus has,” Aatrox then says to the other darkin, “don’t let yourself be driven by this creature’s pathetic feelings such as hate or sadness or… love.”

The two lovers can feel each other’s fear but neither of them let it show. Rhaast would never let Aatrox know of their relationship until Kayn was long gone and the assassin himself had no issue with that.

“You won’t need to worry about that. I care for little more than my own hedonistic desires. This vessel does well enough in ensuring me that.”

Aatrox glares at said vessel, but it’s more so his way of observing him rather than outwardly expressing contempt.

“Seeing as you’re stuck with him, I might as well learn your name. What do those other insects call you?”

“Shieda Kayn.” He states proudly and the darkin narrows his eyes at nothing in particular off to the side.

“Kayn…” The larger being repeats, just as contemplative as Naafiri when she had done the same thing.

“To handle such power… I suppose if Rhaast deems that worthy of his acceptance of you, then I will grant you no more than an ounce of my respect. Had this not been the case, you would have never been here to witness any of this.” He says.

“Do not get in our way and this will continue to be so, mortal.”

“If that is what General Aatrox commands, then so be it.” He remarks, somewhat mimicking the other darkin.

Aatrox merely rolls his eyes at him. Rhaast’s flippancy towards everything was contagious to even humans, it seemed.

After further casual conversation between the two darkin, Kayn returns to the Temple of Thanjuul with a newfound confidence.

He finds solace in even the small amount of respect that Aatrox had given him as knowing that such a powerful force had no intention of separating him from his beloved weapon was enough to keep him at ease.

He does not hear from his master nor from the men and women chosen for the on-going operation until the sun had completely disappeared from the sky. When they finally return from their expedition, the other acolytes are quick to celebrate as they had successfully secured and dismantled all of Noxian’s dangerous large-scale weaponry and taken them out one by one.

Master Zed, proficient in shadow magic, had amassed only a few more injuries worse than the one Kayn had seen him with before. There had been a few skirmishes with the Kinkou, but the only one member actually capable of hurting him was Master Shen. In the end, the two men obviously ended up going their separate ways but another fight between the two of them was inevitable.

Kayn was the only one who would ever see that miserable look on his master’s face whenever he was reminded of that. He would do whatever Zed wanted him to without question if it meant winning that battle, but their conflict was theirs alone.

He finds himself alone with him in his room. This would be the second time now that Zed has allowed him access. It baffled him, but he was never one to question his master’s kindness. It’s incredibly cozy here, especially now that he’s being given time to get used to it.

There, again, was that alleviating bouquet of amber; the scent of him, the scent of home.

“Did something happen between you and the darkin while I was gone?” Zed questions, seemingly unafraid of being burned as he would begin drinking his tea right after it had been prepared. He’s been through worse, the younger assassin surmises. Even so, how impressive of him.

“What gives you that idea?” Kayn asks, being patient with his own cup of tea as he uses his darkin hand to avoid being hurt by its temperature.

“Well, for one, your body has been corrupted by it again… but you seem much more… spirited, I suppose. More than usual.” The master of shadows explains.

“Our physical bond has grown stronger. I’m much more powerful than I was before.” He says, figuring that was close enough to the truth.

“I see. I… care about you a lot you know, Kayn.” He pauses and just that statement alone was enough to gain the younger assassin’s full attention.
“Even when I knew you were here, safe within the temple’s walls, I still worried about you… especially knowing that something had gone awry with that accursed being.”

Zed’s smile is notably accompanied by sadness, but there too in his eyes is genuine happiness as well.

“You are my student, my successor, but to me… losing you would be failure in protecting my own child. I’ve become somewhat biased in that regard. You are… more important to me than you know.”

For a moment, Kayn is speechless. Never would he have expected to actually hear those words aloud.

“As are you to me, master.” He admits.

“You needn’t be so formal… not now, at least.”

“Sure thing… dad.” He grins.

“Alright, don’t push it.” Zed narrows his eyes at him, albeit playfully.

Kayn laughs. For years, this was all he had ever wanted.

You aren’t going to tell him about us, are you?

Eventually, he thinks. For now… he would do nothing that sours this moment.

Chapter Text

Kayn embraces the immediate warmth as Rhaast presses him up against the wall, kissing him so passionately that he nearly suffocates. The assassin’s arms crawl up the Shuriman warrior’s back as he kisses him again and again, heat rising throughout his entire body from this carnal craving.

“Kayn…” Rhaast murmurs into his ear before kissing his neck, his breath hot against the sensitive skin.

“I know, I know…” the assassin says quietly in response, “it’s your turn.”

They separate for only a moment, allowing Kayn ample opportunity to slide his hands down the other man’s chest and feel each and every strong muscle that he had in the past worked hard to perfect. He had not yet said it aloud, but he considered Rhaast undeniably attractive- perhaps even more so than himself, he would argue. As confident as he was in his own looks, nothing really beats the raw sexual magnetism one has towards their partner.

He bites his lower lip as he glances down at the darkin’s erection, then at his own, before looking back up to meet those bright hazel eyes that would stare at him lustfully.

“What did you even want me to—“

A bewildered Kayn stops when he feels two large hands take him by his shoulders and rather casually turn him around, pressing him up against the wall again before Rhaast would rub the tip of his rod against his entrance. Startled, he gasps, his hands instinctively placing themselves on the wall in preparation… not that he was really ready to receive much of anything.

“Y-You… want to…?” He stutters, “I’ve haven’t really… done that yet. You’ll be… gentle, won’t you?”

“You weren’t thinking about ‘gentle’ when you shoved your dick down my throat.” Rhaast remarks, grinning as he moves his long hair out of the way in order to kiss the back of the assassin’s neck.

He bites him, hand gripping his ass with a low growl. The soft noise Kayn makes in response does little to hide how much he likes it.

“You were deepthroating me from the get-go! You can’t seriously—“

“Ah, relax… you’ll be fine. You’re dreaming anyway, shouldn’t hurt if you don’t want it to.”

“I… suppose that’s true but… how can I really help it if you’re so…”

Kayn looks down as Rhaast kisses his neck again, this time massaging the underside of the assassin’s length with his own, pressing up against his back.

“So what?” He asks with a grin.

“So…” Kayn hesitates, already embarrassed enough as it is, “well, y’know. You’re… a lot.”

The assassin wasn’t unconfident in his own size but Rhaast was larger; the darkin’s girth just as terrifying as it was exciting. Kayn would be lying if he said that wasn’t appealing to him, filling him with a hunger he never knew he had before.

He could handle anything; he’s been in worse scrapes before… however big dick was something else entirely. It’s not like his body was particularly small, it was just so… overwhelming.

Rhaast laughs lowly.

“You’re adorable, honestly…”

“J-Just—“

“I got it, I got it.”

Kayn gasps then braces himself as the larger man starts slowly entering him and he already regrets not moving this to the sheets. His hands claw at the wall, desperate to grip onto something.

Rhaast stops, quickly pulling out before glancing over at the large bed already imagined to be there.

“Do you want to—“

“Yes-! Please…” Kayn remarks with an insistence, much to the darkin’s amusement.

It’s far more embarrassing being bent over like this, his ass entirely exposed to his voyeuristic lover who had no shame in teasing him by rocking and rubbing his manhood against his entrance. The assassin whimpers, biting his lip as he looks back at the other man with pleading eyes.

The warrior then flashes him a wry smile before gradually filling him with the entirety of his length.

“Oh… fffuck—“ Kayn moans, already pulling on the sheets again as Rhaast pulls halfway back out.

“Easy, relax...” He coos and the assassin cannot help but obey that dulcet voice.

Rhaast moves carefully at first, as gentle as his partner had requested, until he deems him ready to handle more. He settles over the assassin’s body, leaning on his forearms, before plunging deeper into him. He thrusts faster, Kayn unable to contain his moans as he tugs on the bed’s red cloth.

A needy whine escapes him when the warrior’s hand finds and grips his throat, forcing his head up for a rough kiss. The assassin mewls, intoxicated by indescribable amounts of pleasure when Rhaast fucks harder. The larger man wraps his arms tightly around him, burying his face into his neck.

“Rhaast— oh fuck… Rhaast...!”

“Good, say my name, just like that.”

“Rhaast… more, please—“ He begs.

The darkin quickens his pace and Kayn gasps, yearning for the release he could feel himself getting closer to. He whimpers in desperation, only further aroused by the soft grunts that left the ancient being pounding into him. Rhaast growls, each thrust sending him into a frenzy as he chases the feverish pleasure of an orgasm.

With one last thrust, the darkin finishes into his tousled lover and bites his neck as the younger man loudly moans. Kayn, still trembling, sighs when the larger man litters his neck with kisses. He lightly pushes back against him, a silent request for him to pull out. Rhaast gets up and does just that before lying next to him.

The assassin stretches, his lower half somewhat sore and his mind foggy. Rhaast pulls him into an embrace, his hand settling on his back before closing the distance between them. Kayn is yet again drawn in by the taste of the Shuriman warrior’s tongue, his greedy lover unafraid of toying with his flaccid member all the while.

“Mmm… you’ve had enough, don’t you think?”

“Never… I’m just getting started.”

“Rhaast…” The assassin pleads in a tired tone, guiding the darkin’s busy hand back up to his chest.

“Alright, alright…” He replies softly before kissing him again.

Kayn hugs him, nuzzling into his chest as the warrior passes his fingers through his hair and kisses his forehead.

When he closes and opens his eyes, his vision blurs and his mind reels. He is somewhat relieved to be met with the darkness of his room, as he knows that beyond his door is the bright morning sun which would only be an attack on his tired eyes.

His darkin hand had apparently been messing around with his body, the other hand dripping with cum from the mess he had once again made all over his stomach. Kayn sighs and although he knows a quick bath is all that was necessary to clean himself up, it does not make the journey any less exhausting.

“Come to say goodbye, Rhaast? I didn’t think you would.” Naafiri grins.

Once again, Kayn finds himself face to face with the darkin, the two having sensed each other nearby before eventually meeting at the lake.

The dune hound stretches before settling on the large rock that sits in the water while her hounds, conjured and controlled by her own mind, patrol the surrounding area. Varus, who found them not too long after, stands next to her. He stares into the mossy pool but keeps his distance, preferring not to trigger the water’s visions of the man he was before.

‘I don’t see why not.’ Rhaast responds. ‘Has Aatrox spoken to you yet?’

“No… and I would much rather keep it that way.” Naafiri admits.

“Seeing as this place remains intact, I assume you must have managed to appease our General in some way. Quite the achievement… for you, that is.” Varus then says with a wry smile.

‘I’ve done little to quell his anger. He’s being… generous… allowing us time to fulfil our own selfish desires. Death is ultimately what he seeks and, no matter what, he intends on having us there to see this world to its end.’

“I await that day. It is what Runeterra deserves after everything it has done to us.”

Varus looks off to the side, especially since he knows his sister’s eyes are on him now, gaze honing in on nothing in particular before looking back at the scythe. He would join her in her pursuit of unity, as eagerly as he would encourage his general’s dark purpose. On his own, however, he is unsure of who he would really follow.

“Yes… I could never forget such a thing,” he then says, as though he were responding to someone only he could hear, “as much as I too crave the end, there are things that we must do first.”

“Freedom can be found through coalition, brother… and with that coalition we shall also find peace.” Naafiri remarks, a reminder Kayn figures, her eyes suddenly focused.

“Tell me, Rhaast… what do you desire, if not to follow Aatrox down a path of destruction?”

‘Oh, y’know, the usual. Murder, murder and some more murder. I’ve been held back for too long to want much else.’ The darkin answers casually.

“I assume this incomplete vessel of yours is a means to that end?” She questions, eyeing the assassin.

“The spade does not dictate the architect’s vision… but I am open to suggestions.” Kayn replies with a grin.

“Rhaast is no tool and you are lucky to have survived this long.” She retorts with a snarl.

“You should know by now why I’ve no intention of killing you, mortal. When I look at you, I see flesh yet what I can feel is something else entirely. It is darkin magic, power you have selfishly decided to take.”

The dune hound sighs, her glare reduced to a mere look of acknowledgement.

“This physical bond that the two of you share… only by inconvenience does it earn you my mercy. Within you- within your soul- lies too much of Rhaast to compel me to hunt.”

“Believe me when I say I do not intend on wasting this power, nor does Rhaast intend on sitting around waiting for me to die. We benefit equally from this relationship. Maybe, because of it, you’ll see that you could work with more than just other darkin.”

Naafiri’s canine features twist into a look of cautious curiosity and mild disgust. She says nothing, however, Varus instead being the one to respond after looking back and forth between the assassin and his sister, a brow then raising in confusion.

“You should know that I’ve no hatred towards you in particular, Shieda. My arrow only finds those who I deem deserving of retribution. If you make it worth our while, I see no reason not to avail you.”

The darkin’s eyes find his sister, still appearing just as if not more confused than he was prior.

“Although…” he starts slowly, “Naafiri, have they not… told you?”

Kayn’s lips part silently and a look of concern briefly contorts his expression. Suddenly nervous, he doesn’t dare say a word.

“Told me… what?” She asks, seemingly worried herself.

“Their relationship is more than a means to an end, it… well, uhm…”

Varus’ explanation ends there, the look on his face enough to convey the nervousness he naturally had when addressing things of this nature. That alone told the dune hound all of what she needed to know, her eyes widening in both disbelief and dismay.

“More than— so the two of you…?” She grimaces and it takes her a moment to regain her composure.

“To be besotted with a human… one of this nature nonetheless…” she shakes her head, “I would have expected this kind of thing from Varus, seeing as he still has most of his humanity… but you?”

The aforementioned archer turns to her, visibly offended.

“And who are you to assume such things of me? You’ve no place to talk considering your own vessel’s glaring issues.”

Now it was her turn to get angry, growling lowly before looking aside with as much of a pout as her canine features could express.

“I still don’t understand what you all find so repulsive about my vessel. You’ve no pride. Why must I appear human when I can be more?”

Kayn laughs, interrupting Varus just as he opened his mouth to answer.

“I never once thought I’d live to see such a childish argument between two darkin.” He grins.

“But, yes… Rhaast and I are… together, it seems. You need not worry, it is no hindrance to you. Regardless of our bond, Rhaast will surely outlive me and once I’m gone he is free to do as he wishes with my flesh.”

Kayn shrugs, smiling despite such a morbid reality.

“I’ve no problem with that, really…”

“How… bizarre. Perhaps you were right about Ionian vessels, Varus. They are certainly… obtuse.” Naafiri says, still trying not to seem utterly disturbed by the revelation.

The archer merely laughs, shrugging it off and gone with the topic is their anger. He’d already been told, after all, and it was only then that Kayn would ruminate on that. He supposes that he and Rhaast must have been close in the past for him to trust another darkin with such information even before Kayn himself had known.

Naafiri suddenly perks up, her ears yet again an indicator that someone or something had startled her.

“Has he found us?” Varus asks her.

“No, but it is a good reminder as to why we should keep moving.” She says before leaping off of the large stone, two of her hounds slowly padding out from the bushes.

“Then it shall be here and now that we go our separate ways. Too many of us in one place would only make it easier for Aatrox to locate us.”

“I will admit... I’ve enjoyed what little conversation we’ve had,” Kayn says with a wry smile, “take that as you will, until we meet again.”

“I look forward to it,” Varus remarks, “I’m curious as to how your relationship will play out. It is… an intriguing parallel to my own.”

“Don’t remind me.” Naafiri scowls.

‘Try not to die.’ Rhaast suggests flippantly.

“You’ve always had quite the way with words, haven’t you, brother?” The archer shakes his head disapprovingly, albeit somewhat amused.

“For your sake…” the dune hound’s eyes then find not the darkin scythe but his host instead, the implication of her words obvious, “you’d better hope that you don’t either.”

Chapter Text

So… when are you going to say it?

Still lost within the picturesque view of sunset, the bright orange against cool blues reminding him of the darkin’s captivating red gaze, Kayn tilts his head as he answers albeit without very much thought.

“Say what?”

You know… those words. The words that all the romantics say.

The assassin’s eyes narrow for a moment as he considers the many things one’s lover could say to them until he settles for three words that, in retrospect, he figures should have been obvious from the moment he’d asked for them.

“’I love you?’” He queries, still bewildered by the prompt alone.

Well, that was easier than I thought.

“Well… I was asking,” he remarks bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t think I’m ready to say something like that yet.”

You just did.

“You know what I mean. I don’t see you being so bold.”

He then chuckles lowly. “Where’s your profession of adoration?”

I love you.

Kayn’s lips part silently, warmth filling every fibre of his being as he tries to pretend that the response hadn’t completely thrown him off balance. He nervously scratches his red face, now incapable of looking down at the scythe next to him on the grass.

“Well… alright, fair enough. I guess you are that bold.”

Shieda… the darkin starts softly.

“D-Don’t…” he stammers, his face red, “you got me, okay? You.. You don’t have to try any harder than that.”

Take hold of me. I want to try something.

Kayn’s brow raises as he somehow finds it in him to look back down at the weapon.

“You’re not going to do something perverted, are you?”

No, no… not now, at least. Let me try something.

“Fine, fine…” he concedes, sitting up before bringing the accursed weapon into his grasp and onto his lap.

He gasps, then startled by the hand he would then feel crawling up his back. Claws trace the outline of the exposed muscle, gradually moving back down to his side where what he would recognize to be the darkin’s touch remained.

It’s so warm now and no matter how many times he looks just over his shoulder he still sees nothing there. Kayn sighs, closing his eyes as he settles into the comfort of his lover’s gesture. It was all he could do really, seeing as there was no body for him to return such affection to.

“I really want to find some way to get you out of there...” The assassin admits dejectedly.

You know very well how terrible of an idea that is.

“Would you hurt me?” He asks, despite already knowing the answer.

Never, but I tend to be very possessive over the things that I like… and the lines between caring and cruel often blur for me.

The darkin then laughs lowly.

There’s also the fact that I wish to lay waste to this realm, regardless of whether or not you’re in it.

“Perhaps a bit of prison time isn’t so bad for you then,” he says with a grin, “I’ll have to be the one to keep you in check.”

So long as I can devour that succulent body of yours every night, I’ve no issue with that.

Kayn shakes his head disapprovingly but he’s still blushing, no matter how hard he tries to hard it.

“You’re really… something, you know that?”

Something that you can’t get enough of, I know.

“Oh, I’ll get something. I’ll get you. After all, isn’t it supposed to be my turn now?”

When did that become a thing?

“You’re the one who—“ Kayn stops himself, shaking his head. He was letting the darkin get to him again, and whether or not this was better than outright possession was an argument in itself.

“Nevermind. We can discuss such risqué things at another time. You’re such a tease.”

Rhaast’s touch partially fades, only to reappear elsewhere. An invisible hand tilts his head, guiding his eyes back down to the crimson eye that would stare up at him with only passionate interest.

I do love you though. No matter what happens, no matter what I may do… that will always be the case.

Kayn does not look away, even when he knows the darkin is capable of seeing the bright red colour on his face. Perhaps he could excuse it as a reflection of the ancient being’s light, but he doesn’t bother. Rhaast likes looking at him when he’s like this anyway…

“I…” he bites his lower lip, fingers slowly gliding across the sharp iron blade as he breaks eye contact, “I’ll be able to repeat those words to you eventually.”

Just those are good enough for me… for now, at least.

“Good… cause if you tease me any further, I think I may die right here and now.”

The darkin laughs and just as that soft rumbling echos within the assassin’s mind, he raises a hand in order to silence him.

“Don’t. Be quiet. Savour this moment.”

If that’s what you want.

You… are all that I want.

The feeling is mutual in that case.