(A/N) Another League of Legends Oneshot? The heck is wrong with me?
This fic spawned in a rather peculiar manner. Whilst conversing with the LOL experts of my school, they suggested that I aim for the character Draven as my first 6300 IP character due to his focus on AD (I LOVE AD BUILDS!)
Anyway, following this I became a bit obsessed with him :P
He's probably the most interesting character in the entire game, coming across as both unbelievably cocky and a tad bit unstable at the same time. He's the perfect example of a lovable anti-hero if you ask me xD
He's also a perfect contrast to the more stable Sona.
This story was primarily influenced by an image on Deviantart, as well as suggestions from a few Skype friends.
WARNING: Some naughty words, awkward dialogue, terrible attempts at comedy, pervy descriptions, references and a bit of violence
A Moment's Respite
During his time in the League, Draven had seen many women he'd consider rather sexy. Ranging from furious femme fatales to lovely warrior princesses, he had courted many, though surprisingly he usually failed. Maybe they were just scared of him? Teenage girls throughout Noxus knew of him and his lusty skills, and would probably react rather badly to him settling down with a woman.
And he'd never want to displease his excellent audience.
But he had to admit, he'd been rather captivated by the beauty of this particular dame. He'd seen her before, but never had they been issued a mission together. Usually he was sent in alone, his masterful, heroic, draw-dropping feats of bravery and sheer badassery being too dangerous to others.
And at times, to himself.
That's why the Maven of Strings - the mysterious cerulean-haired healer Sona - had been assigned to accompany him.
And he had to admit, even a man as disciplined and spectacular as he was rather excited by this turn of events.
Sona was different to all of the other girls. He had conversed with her once before: Nothing more than a few seconds of quick exchange, yet a nice and entertaining chat nevertheless.
And she never said anything to hurt him.
The bitter Katarina would usually bluntly tell him to "Piss off", while the gun-toting Miss Fortune would just kick him in the crotch before the first word came out from his masculine jaw. Sona on the other hand would instead lock eyes with him, nodding encouragingly whilst bearing that beautiful, infectious smile of hers.
Something he wanted to see more.
"Never fear, for Draven is here!" He grinned charismatically, patting a golden haired young Champion on the shoulder encouragingly. "If you're in trouble, Draven will pull you out in one piece! No one dies on Draven's watch!"
His usual inspiring words visibly affected his comrades, all of them shuddering and retching, rolling their eyes in awe. His brother Darius often reminded him that they were irritated by his antics, but he was more than certain that they were simply overwhelmed by emotion.
Drawing his blades, he heroically strolled to his destination on the battlefield, disappointed that he didn't bring his one-man band equipment with him.
Although to be honest, he didn't want to discourage any aspiring musicians with his mastery.
He shot a stealthy glance back to see the enchanting features of the string-plucking Sona, her lithe fingers drifting gently and artistically over her instrument. She smiled softly at the blonde boy Draven had inspired barely moments before, the furious blush flooding his face showing an obvious admiration of her personality and looks.
Draven couldn't blame him.
He was glad he wasn't the only one.
X
"Draven is in the building!" The Executioner cheered, action rolling through a bush and leaping high into the air. His flanking manoeuvre came as a complete shock to the slobbering, rotting monster that stood before him, who thought he had defeated his opponent barely seconds before.
"This'll sting!" He grinned, throwing his rotating blades at the monster and forcing him to turn tail and run. His blade ricocheted off the beast's thick leathery hide and landed firmly point-first into the ground near its owner, its hilt pointed up in the perfect angle for him to absentmindedly tug it out of the fresh dirt.
His ally sat up, silently nodding his thanks before turning to return to base. Clearing the remnants of enemy minions trying desperately to hold their ground, Draven lead the charge on the front-line turret with his severely depleted units.
This is what he lived for.
High pressure.
High risk.
High fun.
It was a reckless action that any logical man would've avoided completely, but Draven was greater than any man or warrior this realm had to offer. Casually kicking a stubborn minion going for his knees into a bush, Draven stood in front of his troops to set an example and inspire them. Of course, they were mindless automatons who would charge regardless of the odds, but it felt good to believe they looked up to you.
It was always better to fight with an audience.
As he tore his foes to ribbons and critically damaged the enemy turret, which fired desperately to try and hold out against his relentless assault, he caught sight of a large man in shining armour springing from the bushes to flank him. His hands bore a large golden blade, and his cloak fluttered behind him as he charged.
"For Demacia!" He growled, expertly attacking when Draven was pinned down by hordes of cannon-fodder foes that slowly wore away at his limited reinforcements. With no other option, Draven dropped to his knees to dodge a horizontal swipe. Surrounded by foes and at such close quarters, he chose the first idea that came to mind and tackled the man.
The two landed in a heap, a few feet away from the sparring minions and thankfully on Draven's side of the field. The armoured man pushed Draven off with a kick, quickly glancing over the Executioner's shoulder to spot one of his allies coming in to support him. Draven pointed a blade threateningly in each hand in both directions, caught in quite the pickle.
The great Draven needed support.
But it looked like none was going to come.
Thinking out of instinct, Draven chose to charge the armoured man first. He raised his blades to attack, only to drop to a slide and dodge right past him. With his two foes now on one side, he was in the perfect position to release his strongest attack: His Party Stopper.
And now, for our main event!
"Draven's gonna show you how we do it in Noxus!" He laughed, twisting his weapons at frightful speeds before sending them rolling across the floor like a run-away bicycle wheel in a child's cartoon. The armoured man exchanged a look with his returning ally, that terribly scarred monster that had fled from him moments before, conveying his awe at the sheer brilliance of Draven's skill.
They both leapt to the side to dodge the blades, landing on their fronts and needing a moment to recover. Despite being disarmed, Draven knew this was his one chance. Charging with a war cry, he swung a kick at the armoured man's stomach, flipping him over flat onto his back.
The man clenched onto his blade tightly and hauled it forward in a violent swing as he rose to his feet. Not one for retreating, Draven tried to crouch to avoid the arc but was caught on the shoulder. Landing on his face, he lunged for his unbalanced enemy's ankle and pulled him to the ground once more.
This wasn't going well.
In the heat of the battle he had found himself on the wrong side of the field, with his minions a few metres behind fighting hard against the cascade of enemies that now assaulted without Draven's intervention due to his occupation with his duo of foes.
This dramatic duel had quickly degenerated into a mindless scuffle.
"Vile scourge!" The man yelled, once again swinging his blade horizontally to try and bisect him at his waist. Having time to analyse him, he recognised him as none other than the famous Garen of Demacia. He was revered as one of their greatest warriors, and it was certainly showing.
Still disarmed, Draven irritably had to break off from combat. Slowly stepping back to dodge his slash, he continued to move while Garen's ally finally reached combat distance.
With a horrific gurgle, he mindlessly charged forward and slammed his club down onto Draven's magnificent chest. The attack came from nowhere, and sent him flying past his minions and into his own turret.
A painful sounding crunch was audible, as he flopped onto the ground like the first catch of the day. The distinctive chill of blood dribbled down his forehead, his vision blurring in agony and confusion.
And then to make matters worse, his turret was destroyed.
The explosion was small, but it was enough to disorient him even further. While they were greatly depleted, his enemies had won the skirmish. As their minions continued their charge, the two champions casually strolled up to him to finish the job before returning home to regenerate their wounds.
"So THIS is the Glorious Executioner at work? I must admit, I'm rather disappointed." Garen started smugly. Draven groaned, rather irritated by his attitude. Some may have called him a hypocrite, but snark and wit only ever came across as funny when he did it.
"Finish him off now!" His decomposing comrade growled, looking shifty and anxious. Garen nodded, putting his blade to Draven's throat rather roughly.
"You have killed many of my people. It only seems right that a Demacian avenges the fallen." He muttered in monotone, mourning the many lives that had been claimed by the man before him. The blade tickled at his throat, a small droplet of blood oozing down to meet up with the rest of his bloodied body.
Strangely enough, he didn't have a witty comment on him right now.
Draven needed help.
Thankfully for him, the gods didn't want him dead just yet.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the breath-taking cerulean of a certain someone's hair. At first, he wondered if it was just the blood loss making him see things, but the strum of strings that sent two powerful bolts of energy out from the brush and foliage to his left confirmed that he was indeed in luck.
The bolts struck the two hard, Garen's ally doing his best to evade it but being pursued and caught as if the attack had a mind of its own. Garen raised his blade to defend himself, but the blow sent him spiraling to the ground.
And to make things better, an additional wave of energy sent from behind Draven indicated that his blonde friend had returned to relieve him.
Garen and his ally refused to be finished, both running back to their own lines at full pelt to try and outrun the attack that bit at their heels like an unruly dog.
"I'll deal with the rest! Sona, can you help him out?" The boy asked, likely trying to present himself as a hero to the glowing blues of her lovely eyes. She nodded with a smile, a gentle chord on her instrument representing her wish for good luck.
With a nod he ran forward with a fresh squad of minions alongside him, ready to finish the job that Draven had started.
And now for the reward.
Some time alone with the dame of his dreams.
She floated to his side majestically, artistically and absentmindedly plucking the strings of her instrument out of habit as she traveled.
"Draven's been hit bad, but don't worry pretty girl!" He chuckled, hiding a pained grimace with a smug grin. "Draven's had much worse, these kids are nothing!"
She pouted, as if to say "Don't try so hard" as she sank to her knees by his side with her complex musical device on hand.
If instruments could feel, Draven would give his axes to swap places with it.
Silent and mysterious as usual, Sona knelt close to his side and began to play a soft melody on her Etwahl. Draven raised his eyebrow, his mind completely drained of its usual wit and charisma after his close encounter with death barely moment before.
"Draven has to admit, that was certainly a close one. Nevertheless, Draven aims to please his audience!" He laughed, Sona replying with a motherly and gentle smile as she continued to play a song just for him.
A private performance.
Her music was strange indeed; at least that's what Draven thought. Somehow it was both inaudible and loud at the same time, caressing the ears and soothing the soul to an unbeaten degree. Draven had no difficulty in admitting it; even his mighty prowess with his tambourine of glory was outmatched by the masterful strums of Sona's instrument.
And so they were silent.
Sona certainly wasn't the talkative type. Hell, Draven had never heard her speak before, he just assumed she was shy. But to be honest he didn't really want to speak too much around her, he'd prefer to simply admire her skills with strings.
And her beauty of course.
So he just closed his eyes and sighed, letting her calm him down with her soft tunes.
It didn't feel right.
It was a strange sensation, but Draven felt a heavy weight in his heart right now, as if it was desperately trying to tell him something. Some could say it was the weight of love, though for someone like Draven that was just silly.
Feelings couldn't halt the mighty Executioner!
"So then, pretty girl..." He started, his body having numbed somewhat from her painkilling magic. His fatigued mind searched for something to say, as she looked at him attentively and patiently.
Her glowing eyes easily pierced his resolve, her usual comforting look actually intimidating him for some strange reason. Rather than spouting some sexual nonsense or something about his magnificence, he quickly disengaged and looked away.
A soft sound emerged from Sona's throat, sounding uncertain and concerned. Although she certainly wanted to, she didn't pursue him and simply continued her melody.
Draven never was one for analysing faces, his trade often focusing on throwing axes at the back of people's heads rather than the front. Nevertheless, he could tell that Sona was worried about him in that caring way she always possessed.
Delicately she reached out, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow before it dashed into his beady eyes. Somehow she managed to continue playing as she did this with one hand, her soft touch cooling his reddened face.
"Pretty girl..." He tried again, adopting a more delicate tone rather than his usual bravado. She perked up nervously, flinching as if she'd just been caught reading a Yaoi magazine.
Having not planned very far ahead, Draven decided to say the first thing that came to mind: "Do you think love can bloom on the battlefield?"
Well, that was a good choice of words.
The red that filled Sona's cheeks was a strange contrast to the sky blue of her hair, and was an alien sight to Draven. Her usual angelic and almost inhuman calmness in the face of overwhelming terror and odds was a feature he admired, but seeing her look so cute and vulnerable was rather intriguing.
Was she truly affected by his extreme bodacity?
Giving an embarrassed smile like a young girl who had just been told a very naughty joke, she nodded. Her hand covered her mouth as if she was hiding a giggle, indicating that she was either entertained by his antics or mocking him. He paused briefly, expecting her to say something in reply. However, the moment never came and he continued on.
"Really? If you ask Draven, love can bloom anywhere if you want it to!" He winked, flexing his fingers and arms as the numbing effect of Sona's healing magic finally started to subside. His hands longed to grip back onto their weapons, so he could get revenge on his foes and possibly impress the lady alongside him.
Alas, he had no idea where his axes had gone.
She looked at her lap awkwardly, the fingers of her left hand still plucking at her instrument as they had been the entire time. The soft melody was nearing its conclusion, the pitch slowly beginning to dance higher and higher yet keeping its serenity and peaceful tone. It stirred images of grassy meadows to Draven, the wind whistling quietly against your ears and caressing your hair.
You never got sights like that back in Noxus, and even Draven had to admit that he'd always wanted to feel the sensation of warm grass against his fingertips.
Everyone had their guilty pleasures.
Sona set her instrument down, a tilt of her head indicating that she had finished. Draven shrugged his shoulders, his body still feeling stiff but slowly getting better. He'd probably have to avoid combat for a good week or so, but to spend this much time with such a beauty?
Totally worth it.
"So then, aren't you going to kiss Draven better?" He suddenly asked with a chuckle, his wit being recharged by her masterful composition. Sona inhaled quickly, surprised by this and taking him seriously with reddened cheeks.
With his charm back in business, he was certain that he was on the way to a lovely reply, yet others were out to ruin his day when he heard a yell.
"Fall back!" The blonde haired boy cried, stumbling past a wave of allied minions and running with all of his might. Before he could reach the two at the ruined turret, a circle of large cards suddenly appeared barely a metre in front of him.
A capped man appeared at the spot marked by the loop, a yellow card sparked with energy held loosely between his fingertips. He growled with a deep voice calmly: "Hold it, partner."
With a whistle of wind, he tossed the card at the blonde boy and froze him in his tracks. Quickly glancing behind himself, he noticed the vulnerable Draven and Sona on the ground and shifted his targets. With the boy still frozen on the spot, he turned around and flung a card at Sona.
"Nobody hurts a pretty girl!" Draven growled, lunging at her and taking the card with his mighty back. The card stung, but did little damage to him.
Still unarmed, he stumbled to his feet before tackling the card master in the legs. He threw a card to try and deter him, but it missed by a mile as a mass of raw muscle slammed into him.
"Damn it!" The slender man cursed, falling to the floor and covering his face as Draven swung an angered punch.
"Draven doesn't need blades to cleave a head or two!" He grinned, the man desperately shielding himself from his repeated blows.
X
It must've been around two minutes worth of punches later that finally Draven grew tired and exhausted. The card master lay beaten and unconscious, his arms sprawled out and his face bruised.
That was probably enough.
He sat up and surveyed the area: The enemy had been pushed back, a smouldering line of turrets showing that the fight had moved on. It was unlikely that any more foes lay in wait, and it seemed the blonde boy had moved on to continue the assault.
But Sona?
She sat at his side, still plucking away to heal the two of them.
Because only a woman as kind as her would save a man who tried to kill her.
She pouted irritably, likely annoyed by his ferociousness in combat.
"Sorry about that, Draven gets worked up easily." He sighed, feeling his back only for his arm to be stopped by a firm yet gentle grip.
Sona had just grabbed him.
She shook her head, nodding at his chest to tell him to look there. Observing his body, he realised that his little feat there had left him equally wounded and bloodied. Sona didn't want him to hurt himself, and probably wanted him to sit still so she could heal him.
And so that's what he did.
He clambered off the unconscious man and sat down next to her, taking in the beauty of her chords once again. At this rate, he'd probably start to get himself injured on purpose simply to be able to listen to her art more.
As he waited for his wounds to heal, a voice that he'd never heard before suddenly sounded.
"Draven?" It said, a slight echo notable as if it was trapped in a small space. He did his best to try and work out where it was coming from, and probably would've realised eventually if a soft pair of lips didn't peck against his scarred and stubbled cheek.
The music stopped at that point.
Sona had just kissed him.
She smiled her trademark smile as she reached for his hand, trying to interlock her fingers with his. He offered no resistance, still gobsmacked by this sudden display of love.
He tried to work out where that voice was coming from, having deduced that it was Sona. Her mouth hadn't opened, and it sounded like it was coming from inside his own head rather than the outside world.
The only explanation was telepathy: She was talking to him - and only him - through the power of the mind.
"Thank you for protecting me." She continued, her petite hands easily being absorbed by the warmth of his scarred palms. Seemingly drained by the large amount of magic she'd used to today, she awkwardly leant against him and rested her head against his shoulder.
She sighed and closed her eyes, holding onto his arm firmly and massaging his sore hands.
She'd stopped playing.
She just wanted to sleep.
No music for a bit, just the gentle breaths of the man she sat with.
That was more than enough to heal a wounded heart.
X
(A/N): Ugh, that degenerated into nonsense quickly :/
Whelp, I hope you enjoyed it at least. For the one or two people interested, Feeling Blue (My first LOL fic) has indeed been approved for additional chapters, and shall be continued eventually. I was going to continue it this week, but this idea came to mind and I felt like writing it xD
Godspeed!