A/N:
Okey, the reason why this has taken me so long to post is cuz I brainstormed all day yesterday about in what POV I should write in. At first, when I posted this story and the cover of Fiora with the summary, I had planned it to come from her POV, but now I've agreed with myself (o-o) that Imma write from Darius's. (Some Draven though ^^) This has not changed the story-plot itself, only in which way I'm portraiting it all. Enjoy now, the next chapter is here!
CHAPTER 1:1
"Welcome to the—"
Draven pushed past the novice summoner and casually swung his axe as he entered the Institute of War. The weapon's twin was resting on his back, only sheathed by a thin leather lanyard.
"I know what this place is called," he answered and grinned. "And I know what it will be called as soon as Draven is done here."
The man in front of Draven stiffened but didn't make an attempt to comment his bold speech.
"I'll lead you to our High—"
Draven placed the sharp point of his blade on the novice's cheek.
"You'll lead me to my brother. Now," commanded Draven and smiled viciously. "Go on, I will let you have a five seconds start. You better be fast."
The terrified assistant grabbed the hem of his cloak and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Draven felt his hand itch to throw his axe, but controlled the urge. No point of killing someone that I need.
"Draven."
He spun around and scrutinized the owner of the voice.
"Hello, beautiful," he said and chuckled. "I swear, if it wasn't for you I would never have bothered making it to here."
"Fuck off you," she spat out and pulled forth her daggers. "It was hell to 'escort' you."
Her emerald-colored eyes pierced through his like a predator before she passed him and ventured into the Institute. He felt the urge to end her life with a swift swing of his axe but restrained himself. She would be much better for Draven: alive.
He then grinned by the thought of seeing her in much less clothing and started to walk towards where the novice had run off to. He had given the man more than five seconds but didn't care. After all, if he really wanted to kill the assistant, he would have killed him at start. Nothing stopped Draven from getting what he wanted. Not even that stuck up Jericho Swain. Draven was all that mattered.
The man whistled a tune for himself and started to spin his axe, something that had come to be his habit. He had a way of walking that made you turn back to look at him, not really sure if it was funny… or disgustingly confident. His chestnut-brown hair was tucked beneath a headband, or maybe a crown; it was hard to set things clear with Draven. He wore whatever he felt was comfortable to wear when killing and was in general not a fashionable man. His ridiculously long moustache sailed down and tickled his exposed collarbones as he did not wear any undershirt beneath his vest. The clothes he wore were nothing that would stand out in a crowd, but definitely make you aware of that he was a Noxian.
In Noxus, everything is about a person's strength. Those with strength rises to power and the weak, they fall: the pediment of Noxus politics. But Draven knew, he knew that his brother was disappointed with the weaklings ruling the city-state. He wanted Swain to become the leader of a united Noxus, a city not riven to be controlled by rich families. Draven would help his brother but only because he couldn't let Darius be more well-known than himself.
Of course not; Draven was to be shared with the world. And say what you will, that Draven was a savage, barbaric man-pig with no respect whatsoever, but he could fight and fight well that is - or he wouldn't be where he was today.
"Brother."
Darius greeted Draven with a nod, eyeing him up and down.
"Missed me?" The younger of the Blood Brothers grinned and held out his arms in a victorious gesture. "You never told me that there were so many gorgeous women here. I saw the list of champions on my way here and almost thought I had come to the wrong place."
"Very funny; it seems like it slipped out of my memory to tell you about that," answered Darius with an ironic tone.
Draven put down his axes on the desk and they clattered together, carving the wooden table with ugly marks. He got an angry glare from his brother as a response but just shrugged it away.
"Hell yeah, Draven's is going to go hot, trust me."
"Before you try to do anything, we must seek out General Swain."
Draven raised his eyebrows but didn't ask anything about it. He saw that his brother was tired, almost worn-out; he wondered if that was because of the summoners' magic. It must be extremely exhaustive to be called to one battle, just to lose and join another fight – and to die.
"Sure, I'll get going there," said Draven and lay down onto the only bed in the room. "Wake me up when he calls for me."
"He wanted to see you immediately after your arrival here." Darius was sitting on a low couch, reading some boring papers. "And try to not draw too much attention to yourself. Be subtle."
Draven chuckled and reluctantly rose from the soft bed. His legs were aching, having ridden on a horse for a couple of days, but he forced them to move towards the door.
"Subtle? I don't do subtle," he replied and grinned. "Where do I find the old geezer then?"
Darius put down the journal and approached his brother. Draven could see how troubled his brother was but kept quiet. He knew that Darius could handle himself and as long as he himself didn't say anything, Draven had nothing to worry about.
"I'll lead you there."
They exited the room and Darius took point from there, well accustomed to the alien surroundings and maneuvered through the corridors. To Draven's surprise, it seemed as they would have to teleport to Noxus and that his brother was leading him to the Summoners' Platform. While they were walking, he was told by Darius that Swain was a high profile target. Even though the High Counselors restricted the champions and their powers, they couldn't make it completely impossible for them to kill. It was much too risky to stay in the Institute of War for even just a week and thus had Jericho Swain decided to keep his residence in Noxus, being equipped with a master summoner who could teleport him to the Institute when necessary.
"What a fucking stupid place this is then," interrupted Draven suddenly while his brother was talking. "So someone could just kill you and walk away with it? What the hell? And did I just travel all the way here to be sent back again? How will we come back?"
"Our summoner will take us back to here; they can't do this without leeching from this platform's energies," answered Darius with a scoff. "Such idiocy, I agree."
They were standing on a glowing "rock" – Draven thought it looked stupid – and waited for the nervous summoner in front of them to send them away. The woman was short and slightly overweight but seemed to be good at what she was doing. Draven didn't care, but if she would sweat even more, he wouldn't be able to resist calling her a pig.
Don't take this wrong, Draven only wanted to say the truth to the poor woman, not insult her. And she would probably be dazed by his gloriousness and fall in love with him… as what usually happened when he talked to women. They started to blush and try to touch him: not become angry and slap him, of course. Draven knew women. They were easy creatures, easy to get intimate with but easier to throw away. He had as well never been in a real "relationship" with a woman. Draven only cared for himself.
Then he saw her.
