A/N: This is going to be a ship that's in a longer fic I'm working on, and I wanted to get a feel for this relationship throughout its lifespan. Also that choking cutscene was very hot and I immediately knew they were bitter exes. It's practically canon.
Renathal hiked up the steps of Sinfall, feeling something tight and writhing in his chest. He looked over at Darkwall Tower, his old home before the rebellion. It was in disarray, the buildings disheveled and falling apart. His rebellion had scarred Revendreth—no, it was Denathrius who had scarred Revendreth.
#
Renathal had been in court many years before he fell in love with Denathrius. He remembered the exact moment. It was a dance, and the two of them were paired up. Denathrius was beautiful to behold then, a paragon of the venthyr. He wore his ceremonial armor in red and gold, always with the low v neck tunic teasing his chest.
Renathal remembered the flutter in his chest as their hands touched and their eyes met. Renathal's hands were shaking. Denathrius must have thought it was anxiety of his first dance. With his gentle air that set even the most fearful of souls at ease, Denathrius smiled warmly, pulled Renathal closer, and took the lead. Renathal didn't remember much else about the dance except the feeling of being against Denathrius's chest and the smell of his cologne. He realized he was in love, but he also realized it was hopeless. The master of Revendreth and a courtier? Not only would Denathrius surely reject him, Renathal would become the gossip and laughingstock of the court. He pushed his feelings back down, resolving to never act on them.
#
Renathal looked away from his old tower. He had always had a soft spot for a hopeless cause. That must have been why he had acted on his feelings anyway. Flirtatious remarks disguised as humor, touches that lingered moments too long to be platonic, glimpses at Denathrius's eyes—all things Renathal hadn't been able to keep himself from doing. It wasn't clear whether Denathrius had noticed at all until he showed up at Darkwall Tower one night.
#
"Denathrius," Renathal had said when the butler announced him. "How unexpected."
"Yes, I was hoping to catch you for a conversation," Denathrius said. He looked radiant. His long silvery hair fell over his shoulders. He had taken off his armor for the visit and was wearing a low cut black tunic with fur trim. Renathal's eyes always went intuitively to the chest first, then to the face. But Renathal's face betrayed nothing as he offered refreshments and they made their way to the parlor.
"It has come to my attention, Renathal, that I have something I need to communicate," Denathrius said. They sat on the deep red, velvety couch in the parlor. "Much as I do love your little games, I was doing some introspection and realized I'm not satisfied with our relationship in its current form."
"Oh," Renathal said. "Is that bad? I would prefer our relationship to satisfy you."
Denathrius laughed. "And it shall."
Renathal blushed at the implication and realized he had been staring at Denathrius's mouth. He looked back up at his eyes. They were twinkling with excitement, yet still gentle.
Denathrius took Renathal's hand in his. "I apologize for my forwardness, but I've always found it simpler to ask first. May I kiss you?"
"Yes," Renathal breathed. Denathrius moved forward and their lips met. Denathrius's lips were soft, and he was chaste at first but responded in kind to Renathal's eagerness. He pushed him down until Renathal was on his back on the couch with Denathrius over him.
Denathrius pulled back, smiling. "Is this alright?" he said, and Renathal nodded eagerly. He had thought this could never happen to him, yet here was Denathrius cradling his neck and kissing him. He wasn't quite sure how, but he soon found himself pinned against the parlor wall, making out with the Master.
#
Renathal found his feet reflexively moving toward the western edge of Sinfall, toward the mirror which would take him to Denathrius's prison. He had only meant to take a walk in the fresh air for a bit, but the memories were bringing him closer to Denathrius and his feet responded in kind.
#
The two felt rapturous love for each other, stealing moments away during parties and maximizing time with each other outside of them. Now Renathal wondered when that love had turned to hatred as Denathrius turned to the Jailer's side. He at least remembered when he found out that Denathrius was responsible for the anima drought. It wasn't anything big early on, just that statements Denathrius made didn't line up. It was Denathrius's trust in that wretched Lord Chamberlain. Renathal and the Lord Chamberlain hadn't liked each other from the beginning, and an unauthorized search of the lord's house revealed the drought's cause and the sire's culpability.
Renathal's fingers had trembled as he read the note. Once, twice, three times. He didn't want to believe it, yet it was irrefutably the sire's hand who had penned it. Despite Renathal's closeness to Denathrius, he couldn't forget his duty as a venthyr, and Denathrius had forgotten his. He felt something tight and writhing in his chest. He didn't know what the feeling was, but it became terrible and painful when he thought about Denathrius. There was no path forward for them, was there? He had to rebel against this, didn't he? How could he betray Denathrius like this? —but no, it was not he who was betraying, was it?
Renathal set about with a quill and paper to write out a plan to resist Denathrius's schemes. The possibility of victory was so slim that it was… exciting. It was good he could still feel excitement about this, though the tight writhing feeling wanted him to just pretend nothing was wrong.
#
Renathal paused in front of the mirror. Denathrius was just behind this mirror's exit. Renathal wasn't sure that he should go visit him at all, but he pressed forward and stepped into the mirror.
#
Any illusion of love was stripped away when Renathal, defenseless and haggard, was brought before Denathrius by stoneborn guards. They were at the Menagerie of the Master. Somewhere below them, the anima stores that Denathrius had stolen from the Shadowlands lay waiting to be delivered to the Jailer. Off into the distance, off the edge of Revendreth, a large dark red cloud could be seen covering most of the horizon. Renathal knew it to be the Maw. Denathrius's back was turned to him.
"Renathal." Renathal had heard his name said by the Master many times over his life. This time it felt like Denathrius tasted every phoneme as it came out of his mouth. "You are, unfortunately, a bit of a fool." He turned around, stepped toward Renathal, and yanked the medallion of Dominion from his neck. "You used this medallion, my medallion, to betray me—and forgot something very important." Denathrius was close, their faces inches away. "I know everything this medallion does." He turned. "And so I listened silently, and simply flicked every plot and machination you conceived into nonexistence."
Renathal sighed. He knew there had to be a drawback to using the medallion, but he didn't know it was that. And did he really know everything? All his plans? All the conversations with the Accuser he had about his heartbreak? "Enough of your preening, Denathrius. Do what you must."
"Oh, but I do sometimes wonder what could have been," Denathrius said. "If you hadn't betrayed me. If you hadn't betrayed all of Revendreth."
"I betrayed nothing. It is you who betrayed Revendreth." Renathal sounded surer than he felt.
"I am quite sorry to do this," Denathrius said. He turned back to Renathal and took hold of him.
"No you're not. You never were."
Denathrius frowned. "You may think that if you must. But know that I loved you fiercely." And he hoisted Renathal up above the edge of Revendreth and threw him into the Maw.
#
Renathal looked at Denathrius in the present. He was stuck in his sword, Remornia, imprisoned by the light. Z'rali's light would keep him contained, and maybe he would realize the error of his ways and repent. Renathal didn't know how many eons it would take for that to happen, but he was committed to seeing it through and at last embracing Denathrius again. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have the sire back at his side and to see his radiant smile again.
"Feeling sentimental, Renathal?"
Snapped out of his longing, Renathal thought back to when Denathrius was choking him half to death, holding him by his neck, after they invaded the Castle Nathria grounds. He had thought Denathrius well and lost by that point and was willing to do anything to stop him, but Renathal was so weak and drained of anima that he posed no threat. "No."
"But you came to visit me. On our anniversary."
Renathal was taken aback, but he thought back to the date and it surely was their anniversary. "I was simply thinking."
"And you thought to visit me? How sweet."
Renathal paced across the platform. "I still don't understand. You worked for the good of the Shadowlands for eons. Why betray us all?"
"I did what was right. For the greater good. The Jailer needed his anima to grow in power."
"You starved the Shadowlands! How can you justify that?"
"I did what I needed to do. It's not always easy or fun, but it's what needs to be done."
"How many souls had no hope for redemption? How many nature spirits died and could not be awakened? How many were cast into the Maw with no regard for their deeds in life?"
Denathrius audibly sighed. "Is this about us, Renathal? Do you have unresolved feelings about what I did to you? I really am sorry, but when you fight against me, sometimes I fight back."
"It's not about that." Renathal crossed his arms.
"Ah, but it is, isn't it? How can I love you and still cast you into the Maw? How can you reconcile our years together with my actions, is that it?"
"No." Renathal turned around.
But Denathrius, seemingly sensing he was onto something, kept going. He had always had a knack for landing blows precisely where they hurt the most, whether with words or action. "It was a difficult decision, and not one I made lightly. All the decisions I made about you were not ones made lightly. You were always a beautiful man, and you hosted such wonderful parties. I enjoyed myself at them. And I enjoyed your teasing. But if we got together, people would talk. Of course, we got together anyway. And talk they did!" He paused. "I tried to keep it a secret from you. I knew you wouldn't like the anima hoarding. I didn't want to lose you."
Tears came unbidden to Renathal's eyes.
"Ah, but I did anyway. And what's more, you were the leader of the rebellion. I… can't justify my actions of throwing you into the Maw. Not anymore. But at the time… at the time I couldn't think of any way to keep you, and my heart twisted in such a way when I thought about you, I thought maybe I could make it stop if I got rid of you."
"And did it?" Renathal asked.
"No. It never did." Renathal closed his eyes.
"My prince," a new voice said. It was General Draven. He stepped forward and put a hand on Renathal's shoulder. "You should leave this place. It's not good to dwell on painful memories."
Glad for the interruption but still aching, Renathal wiped the tears away. "You're right of course, Draven."
Denathrius tittered. "Oh, don't mind me then. I'll just stay here and be a sword."
"That would be best," Draven said. He swept a stony wing over Renathal and escorted him through th mirror.
"What did he say to you?" Draven asked once they were through and out of earshot.
"Oh, just that he loved me and never wanted to lose me."
Draven paused for a moment, then wrapped Renathal in a soft, stony hug. "You deserve better than him." He offered a little squeeze, not too much since he was made of stone. "If I can help in any way, please let me know."
"Thank you, Draven." Renathal sniffed and wiped another tear away. "We should get back to Sinfall."
The two wordlessly walked back toward the steps. Draven put an arm around Renathal's shoulders. "Everything will be alright, my prince. I will make it so."
