He had noticed her right away. Not exactly the most unexpected of things, with, you know, her being this cataclysm-level mage that could single-handedly shift world politics if only she had half the mind for it. Also, her choice of clothing could have played a part in it. He was pretty sure she liked to show off. Couldn't completely blame her. Those thighs were to die for…
In the beginning, he had been like the others, watching her from afar, preferably from behind a very sturdy cover, while she demonstrated her very personal concept of combat. Her power wasn't just intimidating, it was freaking terrifying, simply too much to be something natural. Poor Nidalee tried her best, but when all you had a spear and a cat transformation, and a chunk of earth the size of a mountain hovered over you, there wasn't much you could do apart from whimper and wait for the drop.
In time, though, squashed cats aside, his feelings started to shift. Intimidation turned to awe, awe turned to curiosity and curiosity turned to doubts. How come she was always grouchy? Like, "I'll splatter your ass against a wall if you sass me once" grouchy? Weren't people with earth-shaking powers be supposed to be, you know, happier? The only power he had was being very good at running away, and he wasn't complaining. So, what was her deal?
If Ezreal had to name a weak point and a strong point of himself, the word "curiosity" would come out in a single breath and before the question's end. Oh boy if that hadn't dragged him in more life-or-death situations than he could. But hey, it was part of his charm, and without life would be unbearably dull, so why deny it?
Now he only had to work up the guts.
Presently, he was doing just that, peeking from behind a rock at the object of his fascination. He wouldn't call it snooping, it was more… tactical observations.
Shut up, brain.
Trying his best to remain inconspicuous, Ezreal peeked over the rock.
Syndra languidly laid on the grass, asleep.
Ezreal swallowed. The Sovereign's skin was smooth and flawless like porcelain; a dark tint mingled with its healthy pink, giving it a smooth vividness, as if a dark glow came from her deeper body. Ezreal didn't even try to listen to that little voice that called "impossible!". He had seen far bigger things coming from that woman to start getting disbelieving about this.
Her outfit hugged her soft curves like a second skin, covering everything and nothing. The large flaps of cloth that usually floated in her wake like a cloak of darkness were down, giving a tantalizing glimpse of elegantly shaped legs.
Her white hair was a tussled waterfall of silk, covering her hair and circling her head like a delicate halo.
The word "Goddess" blazed a trail in Ezreal's mind. He didn't dare to move, barely dared to breathe, almost fearful that doing it would break that picture of loveliness.
Enchanted, he stood there and watched, the thoughts of what he was supposed to be doing forgotten.
"I know that you're there."
It all happened very quickly.
First, Ezreal saw a violet flash. Then, the boulder behind which he was hiding flew away. Then, the earth he was standing on did the same. His stomach jumped in his throat. The air rushed him by.
And then he was over. He found himself suspended ten inches from the ground, feeling something like a giant hand holding him by his scruff, panting and with reeling guts.
And staring at two very, very angry glowing, purple eyes. Turned out that Syndra managed to be beautiful even while watching something like she was about to squash it. Also, terrifying.
"Ehm, hi?" He grinned weakly.
"Who sent you?"
The question felt like a whiplash. He immediately decided to tell the truth.
"I, ehm, wanted to talk to you?"
Syndra's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Ezreal felt sweat start to appear on his forehead. Alright, maybe it was better to start explaining. "I am Ezreal! Piltover's finest explorer? Remember?" He hurriedly pointed at himself. "We were matched-up in, like, five matches? I just, just wanted to say Hi! I mean, you never talked much, and i got curious and…!"
Maybe not one of his best moments, but, hey, he was blaming it on the circumstances!
Syndra made a small wave with her hand, and the world disappeared into a blur.
Ezreal had experienced something similar once; when his Gauntlet had malfunctioned and instead of teleporting through a wall, he had appeared in the sky of Piltover. It was that, plus the roller coaster, if the roller coaster was inside a giant washing machine and the giant washing machine was rolling down a hill.
When it ended, he was still suspended, his stomach was doing flips and his thoughts ran scattered like startled birds. The purple eyes glowed at the center of the chaos.
"Who. Sent. You?" Syndra asked sharply, this time showing a hint of teeth.
Struggling to keep his lunch down, Ezreal shook his head. "Nobody?" He gurgled. "I just wanted to… Urk… i am gonna puke…"
A hint of surprise passed through those unforgiving eyes. Suddenly, the force keeping him afloat disappeared, and he fell to the ground, barely avoiding bashing his face against the dirt.
"You're serious." There was quite a lot of disbelief in Syndra's voice.
Still panting, still trying to keep his stomach down, Ezreal sat and looked up. Levitating some palm from the ground, Syndra looked almost… outraged?
"Yeah, i am," he said with a grin, thoroughly happy for being still alive and for having his old pal ground under his butt again. "Really, man, you welcome everyone by flinging them around like that? I'll admit it was cool, though."
The woman looked ready to splutter. "Man?" She repeated in disbelief. "Do you even know who i am?"
"Syndra?"
"I am the Dark Sovereign, you blonde fool!" Syndra's voice rose to a thunderous crescendo. The glow in her eyes turned into a wrathful light. Blazing violet energy flared in her hands. "The Scourge of Ionia! The Living Cataclysm! The Mage Ascendant! The world trembles before my power!"
Her words echoed again and again, far too many times to be natural, before disappearing.
Ez uncovered his ears, looked first right then left, then patted himself all over. Welp, still in one piece.
He extended a hand toward her and, with his most dazzling grin, he replied: "I am Ezreal, nice to meet you."
The furious light surrounding Syndra went out like a blown candle. She watched him, then his hand, then him again. Her eye twitched a bit.
She took a trembling breath, then exhaled, slowly.
"Yes, i remember you from the matches," she said, sounding like she was putting a great deal of effort into it. "Your performances were… adequate."
"Thanks!"
"…why are you here? Truthfully."
"Well…" Ezreal scratched his cheek, a bit embarrassed. "We had a lot of matches together, but you were always so distant. I got curious, i guess."
Syndra folded her arms before her chest. "You got curious," she repeated flatly.
"Yeah." Alright, when he said it, it didn't sound too smart, but hey, curiosity was a driving force, right?
Syndra pinched the bridge of her nose. "I am going to give you three seconds to disappear."
"Eh?"
"Before i make you disappear."
"Eh?"
"One."
"W-wait a moment now."
"Two."
"Can't we talk about it?!"
"Three."
The flight was quick and painless. The landing, a little less.
Still, some miles away from where he had been thrown, with his head that felt like it was full of cotton, Ezreal had a series of thoughts. First: Syndra was beautiful. Second: she was dangerous. Third: his curiosity was even bigger now. And if the Prodigal Explorer was known for something, was that when he found beautiful dangerous attractions to his curiosity he never let go until he was satisfied.
That was what he thought. Then, he fainted.
The second time he found her, she was floating in one of the gazebos that the Institute lent to its Champions to relax. Alone, as always, she was reading a book.
"You again," she said without bothering to hide her annoyance. Her gaze didn't leave her book.
Ezreal stopped at the gazebo's entrance, grinning with some hesitation.
"Brought you some food?" He said tentatively. He felt very much like an ambassador carrying a peace offering. And what an offer! Say what you want about Ionians, but their traditional foods were to die for. The smells wafting from the small tray he carried were heavenly.
Without turning, Syndra made a gesture, like she was swatting a fly out of the air.
Ezreal's eyes widened as he felt himself being seized by an invisible force. But this time, he was ready.
An azure blink and he appeared inside the gazebo, the boom of the air displacement left by the energy trying to send him flying resounding behind him.
Satisfaction flickered as Syndra turned sharply to watch him. He grinned at her surprised expression.
"Taking me seriously now, eh? Finally! I was just…!" His words ended up into a yelp when the woman made a grabbing gesture.
An enormous force grabbed him from head to toes, slamming his arms against his trunk and roughly pulling him forward.
He found himself face to face with two very irritated purple eyes, and a sense of deja-vu insistently pressing in his head.
"What. Do you. Want?" Syndra all but hissed.
Ezreal swallowed, with some struggle since the pressure on his chest made the motion somewhat difficult. "You're always alone. It was making me feel bad. I thought that maybe i could help you to come out of the shell?" Alright, not all the truth but, hey, circumstances.
"Come out of the…!" Syndra sounded incredulous. Her expression hardened. "Listen here, blondie…"
Ezreal felt the pressure tighten. Oh boy, now he had done it. Frantically searching for a way out, his gaze fell on the book Syndra was reading.
"Oh, you're reading about Shurima?" He asked, quite surprised.
Frowning, Syndra glanced back at the book. She waved, making it fly in her hands.
"What about it?" She asked.
Ezreal grinned. "I have traveled a lot through that place, you know. Explored up and down every centimeter of it. Well, almost all."
A shapely eyebrow arched with skepticism. "And?"
"I could tell you things that no book ever could." Ezreal tried his best to look confident while being on the verge of being squeezed like a melon.
Syndra looked tempted. Her gaze flickered on the book, then on him. She bit her lip, and Ezreal tried his best not to gawk. Something told him that it wouldn't have helped his situation.
"Alright," she said eventually, making him almost melt in relief.
He stumbled as the invisible force let him go, almost dropping the tray, and again when the book slapped on it.
"Start then." Syndra leaned back and, despite gravity, the air held her afloat into a regal position, like a monarch reclining on her throne.
He hesitated. "Should i sit or…?" There were no chairs in the gazebo.
She gave him a pointed look.
"Alright alright! Here's fine!" He quickly plopped down on the floor.
He had recounted his adventures many times and in many ways, but that had to be the strangest. Thankfully, he was pretty good when it came to storytelling and soon he was pretty taken into it.
To his surprise, Syndra was a damn good listener. She rarely interrupted, and when she did, it was always to ask intelligent questions that tickled his archeological side just the right way. As the first scare slid away, he almost felt blessed. How many could say to have seen the Dark Sovereign's expression fill with curiosity or wonder? Heck, maybe he was the only one. That was something. Also, she looked a lot cuter when she wasn't glaring. Oh, who was he kidding? She looked beautiful whatever expression she made.
He tried his best not to comment on the fact that she ate all the food he brought.
"…and after the Great Ascent, we found the First Seal. You should have seen it. It was majestic! Forty meters of granite portal covered with hieroglyphs from base to the top."
Syndra floated in the air, legs kicking lazily. "But how did they manage to carry the stones at that altitude?"
"Well, there are a lot of theories about that. I throw my hat on the sled."
"Sled?"
"Yes! It fits with the grooves we found! You see, right in the lower half of the channels…"
A shapely hand was held up, interrupting him.
"That's enough." Syndra folded her arms beneath her chin, looking thoughtful. "You gave me quite the food for thought…"
Ezreal grinned, his explorer's side thoroughly pleased.
"You seem to like a lot to hear about other places!"
"Well, yes. I never had much chance to travel…" Was he being delusional, or there was there a hint of longing in those words?
If there ever was, it passed as quickly as it had appeared. Syndra started a little bit, then fixed him with a suspicious glance, purple eyes glowing ominously.
Ezreal was quick to throw his hands up in a gesture of peace. Jeez, just like a powder keg, this one.
Of course, he didn't say that. "Hey, as long as you got something out of it, for me is all good."
Syndra nodded slowly, practically dripping with grudging acceptance. "I guess that it was entertaining enough."
"You're welcome, sheesh."
"Return tomorrow."
"Uh?"
"I said, return tomorrow. I want to hear more of it."
"Hey, i can still hang out now."
Syndra's eyes narrowed, purple glow increasing.
Ezreal threw up his hands. "Alright alright. Tomorrow."
She nodded, clearly satisfied. The glance she threw him before returning to her book felt like someone had just branded his heart. Was he hallucinating or that small, almost smug smile was somewhat ominous?
As he walked away, Ezreal was left with the distinct impression of having just signed his soul away to the devil. But that had to be just him.
Right?
In the following days, he passed the moments of rest after the matches at the gazebo, recounting his exploits at an attentive Syndra. Surprisingly, it was… pleasant?
The woman was the ideal listener, never interrupting if not for asking intelligent questions that made the explorer in him purr like a caressed cat. And her curiosity was bottomless! Frejlord, Shurima, Piltover, Zaun. There wasn't a place she wasn't keen on hearing about, a culture that didn't tickle her interest. Only when the topic turned to Ionia, and more precisely toward the Kinkou, she turned crass and poisonous. Not surprising, considering her circumstances.
Ezreal didn't complain. He couldn't ask for more. He loved to recount his adventures, and Syndra could go for hours listening at his babbling.
In time, as the fear of being splattered subsided, he found himself watching her. She was beautiful, but she was also intelligent and curious, insightful, and with a clear mind. If before he was attracted, now he was positively smitten.
He felt lucky. Everybody could see only the cataclysm mage, thunderously boasting about her limitless potential. Only he could see the quiet girl listening intently as new places were unveiled before her. Only he could see those softly glowing purple eyes light with wonder and fascination. If that wasn't a privilege, he didn't know what it was.
And him being him, a question soon found his way through his mind. Did he have any chance with her?
Yeah, right.
Not even his playboy's side, with all his successes with the gentler sex, was idiot enough to entertain any hope. Come on! She was powerful, beautiful, smart; with a flick of her wrist, she could shift goddamn nation-size politics.
Compared to that, what he was? An explorer, a successful one yes, a talented one yes, but that was it. The biggest influence he could have over the world was to make happy the guys at the museum when he walked in with a broken pot.
Yeah, no. Not a chance. Syndra was two cities out of his league.
The best he could do was count his blessings and do not do useless things that would end up in nothing but a broken heart and a loss of what he had right now. He could be reckless, he was the first to recognize it, but not even he was that stupid. And after all, being a friend of the dark Sovereign was already a big achievement, wasn't it?
And so, he buried any hope and contented himself with their little discussions. Like that, he found some measure of peace. He even came to look forward to those meetings.
Ezreal was making his way to the gazebo as usual, when he noticed that there was something strange.
The air felt heavy. Goosebumps ran across his skin. A tangy taste filled his mouth. Ezreal was reminded of one of those massive thunderstorms that raged over the mountains of the Frejlord, at the upper limits of the world.
He hurried at the gazebo. It was empty.
"Syndra?" He called.
No answer, but the wind was picking up.
Ezreal's instincts whispered of danger. It was a primal thing, reaching down to the animal part of his brain. It said that no, it definitively wasn't a good idea to stick around, not now, not here. Much better to call it quits for the day, get back home, jump in bed, and don't get out until a week had passed.
Ezreal ignored it.
"Syndra?!" He called again, to no avail.
He set his jaw. Where the hell had she gone? And what the hell was going on here? This wasn't Frejlord. The climate wasn't supposed to go bonkers like that.
But wait, if she had something to do with it?
Turning around, Ezreal found the direction from which his instincts warned him to not go the most and took it without hesitation. His instinct shouted that its a was a very very bad idea, probably the worst idea he ever had, and that was saying something. Too bad that he was an expert at tuning out the little voice in his head that called for preservation.
As he ran, he heard a new sound: a thrumming vibration, setting the air abuzz. No, he corrected himself, it wasn't new. It was so deep that he had realized its presence only now.
The more he advanced through the lush wood, the more the vibration rose. Soon, all the branches around danced at its rhythm. His boots crunched over a carpet of leaves shaken off by it. He could feel it rattle into his teeth and push against his eardrums.
He shook his head, feeling slightly light-headed. Well, that couldn't be good. Whatever. He needed to see this thing through.
He moved a branch out of the way.
And there it was, the source of it all.
"Holy…"
A column of coruscating energy filled the clearing, covering everything with a kaleidoscope of purple. It was as large as a Demacian watchtower and it reached to the sky like a lance thrown down by some angry god. Violet bolts of lightning discharged from its length, hitting the trees or licking across the cyclone of clouds swirling around it. It emitted intermittent pulses of force that swept the clearing, throwing leaves and dirt into the air.
Ezreal gaped at that spectacle until a wave slammed against him like a fist, making him stumble.
"Holy shit…!" He gasped, struggling to recover from the shock and blow alike. The fuck was that supposed to be? The end of the world?
"Syndra!" He called, but his voice quickly lost itself into the drone.
That column hummed like a Piltover train, the vibration setting all his hair on edge and sending a spike of pain through his ears.
He searched it with his eyes, mind abuzz with possibilities. Unlimited power… gone out of control? Could that even happen?
He found her quickly. Her silhouette was a dark figure in the center of the column, magnified to ten times the size of a person. She was… breathtaking: untamed, free, unbound and overwhelming, like an avalanche or a tsunami. The wind carried her laughter, full of joy and triumph for what she was and what she could do.
For a moment, Ezreal felt the same thing he had felt before the great icebergs of the northern reaches of the Frejlord. Part terror part admiration, a feeling of awe before awesome power and absolute freedom.
A realization tore him out of his reverie. Was she… struggling?
The thought of earlier returned with a vengeance. Absolute power, right, but what if it went out of control? Raging and screeching like an unleashed bull? Would it… tear apart is the host?
The image was intolerable.
Ezreal put down the books he had brought and powered up his Gauntlet.
He watched the energy pilon. Fear took hold of his guts. His instincts screamed that what he was thinking to do was probably the most idiotic thing ever, that it would have been more prudent to fill a pot with the Zaun Grey and stick his head in it.
"It's alright," he whispered to himself. "I've done worse."
The voice replied that no, he hadn't. Even the old crypts supposedly filled with death traps and undying guardians hadn't been crumbling down when he entered them.
"Oh, shut up. It will be alright. I shield myself. Go in. Get out. Simple as sweeping a rug from under a Noxian."
He grinned, to convince himself just as much as he relished the challenge.
The voice screamed a big: NO, IT WON'T!
Thankfully, he was very good at tuning out that particular section of his brain.
"Here we go!"
Ezreal clenched his teeth, clenched his guts, and, with his brain screaming in horror, activated the Gauntlet.
The teleport activated with a sapphire flash, and then he was into the sky, the column's bulk towering before him. He half-screamed and half-whooped as he fell, exhilaration and terror intermingling. Winds buffeted him, half-suffocating him. The hum was even stronger there, a veritable assault on every sense. It felt like nails scraping on a chalkboard in his ears and sandpaper on his tongue. The energy pressed over him like a wet blanket, only adding at the breathlessness.
Half choking, he spread arms and legs to slow down his descent.
"Whenever you feel ready, pal."
Grinning like a maniac, he gazed almost feverishly at his Gauntlet, waiting for it to recharge enough to teleport again.
The voice in his head screamed that he was an idiot; that he was going to end up as a splatter on the ground and that he fucking deserved it.
For a moment, he almost agreed.
Then the gauntlet was charged again.
"Nope! Best idea ever!" He screamed triumphantly, activating the teleport again.
Straight into the energy column.
Honestly speaking, he hadn't thought it through. But maybe that was for the best because if he did, he probably wouldn't have done it at all.
To Ezreal's credit, the first phase of his hastily assembled plan seemed to work.
The bubble of energy projecting from his Gauntlet wobbled ominously when he plunged into the column. Purple energy clashed with azure energy in a crackling chorus. To Ezreal, it felt like jumping into magma. Searing heat took him at the throat, instantly sucking out every trace of moisture. The hum was a straight-up howl in there, a furious scream that seemed to come from a thousand throats at once. It set his teeth on edge, sent spikes of pain through his brain, made his bones rattle. And that was not to speak about the pressure that made him feel like he was walking at the bottom of Bilgewater's abysses.
"H-h-h-how l-l-lovely," he stuttered madly, and almost bit his tongue off. Talking: bad idea. Noted.
The bubble of energy squeezed tighter. He had to hurry.
Using a stream of energy from his Gauntlet to propel himself forward, he cut his way forward. The purple stream opposed him like he was swimming in a river against the current but he pushed through.
Soon, the dark silhouette was almost in reach.
Ezreal grinned savagely, fear, and elation mingling. It was working! Take that, brain!
And then everything took a turn for the worst. Or better said, Syndra did. She sharply turned toward him.
The fear that took hold of Ezreal as those two blazing orbs of power fixed themselves over him was the same primal terror that had been felt by humans helplessly watching a tsunami rumble toward them, its monstrous bulk covering the horizon; by lonely rabbits set upon by a pack of wolves; by mortals standing before the wrath of Gods.
The apparition swung, and everything disappeared into wind and chaos.
The only thing Ezreal managed to register was his old pal instinct springing into action. Then, he was laying over a hard and cold surface, with many sharp things painfully poking his back.
He blinked. His vision was fuzzy. His thoughts ran sluggish, and his head felt like it was full of cotton.
Uh, that felt somewhat familiar.
He blinked again, and his sight focused. He found himself staring at two furious purple eyes.
"The hell you think you're doing?" Syndra sounded livid. Belatedly, Ezreal noticed the hand roughly holding the front of his shirt.
"Who the hell you think you are to interrupt me when i am training?"
She seemed pretty angry. Ezreal vaguely felt that he was missing something. Ah, what the hell.
"Shyndra!" He slurred. "You's fine!"
She paused, watching him.
He grinned broadly. There was something loose in his jaw but who cared? She was fine, he was fine. Everything was fine!
"Oh my god, he has a concussion," she mumbled, exasperation breaking through as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
Con-cu-shi-on? What a funny word! Ezreal found himself gargling a chuckle.
"Shin-sin-shyndla." Had her name always been so difficult to pronounce? It sounded fun though. He chuckled again.
She sighed. "I am calling you a doctor."
"Nonshence!" He protested. He tried to emphasize his opposition with a sharp gesture, but his arm refused to answer. He watched it, chuckled at seeing it contorted in a strange position. Ah, he couldn't feel it. That was funny.
Syndra was watching it as well. "Right."
Ezreal felt vaguely offended by not being taken seriously. "Don't… don't you chu know who i a'? This ish ordinary amministracion for Esreal the Eshplorel, conquelor of shands, finder eshtraordiner et cetera. I has taken lots an' lots of hits to the ead in my times!"
"I don't find that hard to believe at all…"
Ezreal grinned at seeing her smile. If she smiled, it meant that she was okay. That was good!
"I… i am happy you's fine, Shin-sin-shindla," he mumbled. "I thought the bad light was going to eat youuuu…"
Syndra's eye twitched a bit, but then she stiffened.
"Wait…" she said. "That's why you came at me like that? You thought that… i was in danger?"
Anger and bafflement warred in her expression, and all flew well over poor concussed Ezreal's head.
"Yah," he slurred. "Shuper Esreal to the rescue! With my Gauntlet! Have you sheen it? It's pretty cool."
Syndra covered her face with a hand. "Oh my god."
"Yeeee! Bam pew pew!"
"Just… shut up. I'll get you to a doctor."
"Noooo, don't gooo! Shyndraaaa!"
Ezreal received the lecture of the doctor with a lowered head and a guilty grin. Partly because he was more than ready to do it again. A broken arm, a concussion and enough bruises to make a rug. Pshh, that's it? Not even a broken rib? That was just Tuesday for him. He'd rather think on the present, more precisely on the two days of rest the doctor gave him to give time to the healing magic to do its job. No matches for a while! Rest!
He was going to become bored, that he knew, but not right now. Now, he just enjoyed the cool bed and clean sheets. Living for months in a ratty tent in the desert gave you a new appreciation for those simple things.
His good humor evaporated the moment Syndra made her regal entrance. The small patient room seemed to strain to contain her presence, the walls seeming to be bending outward under the strain. Hiding behind his clipboard, and with a cowering nurse behind him, the doctor squeaked something about the patient needing absolute rest.
Syndra didn't even bother to look at him, her glowing eyes fixed on the frozen Ezreal.
"Get out," she commanded, her voice echoing with a hollow timbre that filled the room.
To his eternal credit, the doctor didn't run away. Instead, he squeaked again about patients and rest.
Syndra threw a glance in his direction, eyes flashing purple.
The bottles on the stand just behind the trembling duo exploded in a small shower of glass shards and disinfectants. That was too much even for the Hippocratic Oath. The doctor and nurse were out of there faster than Singed running under the effects of his special juice.
Ezreal felt a feeling of dreadful condemnation as the door closed on its own behind them. The sound of the lock felt very much like the last nail being driven into a coffin.
He found himself alone with the Dark Sovereign.
The first thought he had was: "she sure doesn't care about good manners".
Syndra stared straight at his face, silent and straight-faced. The only thing giving away her thoughts was the slight crease on her forehead, like she was annoyed, or deep in thought, or both. Whatever it was, it didn't look good.
Ezreal swallowed. He realized he had been clutching the sheets. He eased his grip, but then didn't know where to put his hands. Well, that was awkward.
"Ehm, hi?" He tried, smiling tentatively. It sounded lame as hell but everything was better than that silence.
"What's your scheme?" The question was like a whiplash.
Surprise knocked Ezreal straight out of embarrassment. "My…?"
"Don't pretend," Syndra all but hissed. "You've been all over me these days. And now this. What are you planning? What do you want?"
Ezreal scratched at his cheek, unsure if he was getting this right.
"Ehm, no plan? I just thought that it would have been nice for you to get out of your shell and…"
Syndra cut him off with a scoff. "Again with that nonsense!" She said. She suddenly levitated closer, almost making him yelp "Since you are so dense you don't get it, i am gonna say it out loud. Very slowly and very clearly." She jabbed at his naked chest with a thin finger.
"Uhm…" Ezreal tried his best not to flinch. He was with his back to the wall, literally.
"I don't need to get out of my shell," Syndra growled. "If i stay by myself is because i like it, got it?"
Ezreal swallowed. Those glowing purple eyes pinned him in place.
"And that's because people are selfish. People are envious. People are stupid." Syndra punctuated every word with a sharp jab at his chest. "Everyone has a second motive. Everyone. So i am gonna ask, and this time you're gonna answer for real: what. Is. Your. Scheme?" The last jab was sharp enough to actually be a scratch, making Ezreal jump.
To his relief, Syndra drew back. She folded her arms before her chest, fixing him with a stern glare.
Ezreal fidgeted, idly rubbing at his chest. The urge to just say a nice: "jeez, who hurt you?" was strong but he suspected that it wouldn't bring him a nice finale; and, well, something told him that it would touch real-life events that she wasn't too fond to recall.
He tousled his hair. God, this was embarrassing.
"I just think that you're amazing," he confessed, averting his eyes. "You're intelligent, beautiful, and powerful like i can only dream to be. I like our time together, a lot. I just… want to be your friend, i guess."
God, that sounded so lame.
Not hearing an answer, he hazarded a glance toward her.
Syndra watched him, surprise, pleasure from a stroked ego and something else he couldn't pinpoint warring in her expression.
Her question came out tense: "And what about that jump in my energy stream?"
Ezreal grinned. "Hey, i help my friends if i think they are in danger." He shrugged. "And i guess that thinking ahead isn't exactly my strong point." He lived on the knife's edge, day in day out. Another jump into danger was nothing new.
Syndra didn't answer, watching him.
Suddenly, she lunged, reaching with both hands for his head.
Ezreal yelped as fingers closed around his temples. There it is! She was going to kill him! Goodbye, cruel world!
But no death by explosion and/or implosion came. In its stead, he just felt a slight heat.
Opening the eyes he had squeezed shut, he found himself staring at Syndra's focused expression.
"Uhm…"
"Shut up. Don't move."
Not understanding, he did what he was told.
The warmth formed a circle all around his head, then started to seep in. It wasn't unpleasant, only… strange.
"Uhm, Syndra? Could you please not melt my brain?" He asked, only half-joking.
"You wouldn't lose anything important anyway," the woman rebuffed him harshly. "Shut up now. I am focusing."
Ezreal clamped his mouth shut.
Whatever Syndra was doing continued for some time. Eventually, Ezreal stopped being concerned. Pleasant sleepiness had seeped into him, probably his wounds acting up and whatever painkiller the doctor had given him. Syndra's fingers felt warm and soft, her focused eyes made for a pleasant sight. He felt cozy and relaxed. It was pretty nice.
Suddenly, Syndra's eyes widened, shapely eyebrows reaching up.
She let go of him and drew back. Ezreal shook his head, dizziness slipping away in tatters. Ack, and just when he thought he was going to get some good sleep.
He glanced curiously at Syndra, but the woman didn't seem to even notice.
"Are you for real?" She asked, looking torn between anger and disbelief. "Are you actually for real?"
"Uhm…" Alright, now he was starting to get freaked out. "Is there something wrong with my head?"
"Yes!"
"Welp, that's hurtful."
"I can't believe this…" She sank her face in her hands.
"Uhm," Ezreal scratched at his cheek. "Would you mind explaining…"
"You actually mean it," Syndra said after some moments. She glowered at him like he had just killed her dog. "I thought you were bullshitting me. And instead, you mean what you said!"
"Well, of course." Was that so difficult to believe?
He blinked, realizing something.
"Wait, did you just read my mind?"
Syndra scoffed, still peeved, but a glimmer passed through her eyes.
Making an outraged sound, Ezreal clasped at his head with both hands. "At least ask before doing that! God!"
Syndra rolled her eyes. "Don't be a baby. It was nothing. And i needed to do it anyway."
"What, why?"
"Because people aren't this stupid." She fixed him with a pointed look. "But i guess that the assessment needs some reconsideration…" she mumbled.
"Hey, i am not stupid!" Ezreal protested. Alright, many people called him that, but it was just him being misunderstood. He grinned, pointing at himself with a thumb. "I just overflow with the charm of the good guy."
"You're an idiot," Syndra stated flatly. "The biggest moron I've ever met."
Ezreal's grin instantly withered, and he hung down his head.
"You're so mean…"
"I wonder how are you still alive," Syndra wondered. "Oh right. Outrageous luck, obviously."
Ezreal flinched. Crap, that was so accurate it hurt.
The hint of a smile passed over Syndra's lips, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
"Whatever. I have things to attend to now." Syndra turned and floated toward the door. "I'll take my leave."
Ezreal wasn't surprised by the blunt statement. That girl went at her own pace.
She paused at the threshold, the door obediently opening for her. A glowing purple eye stared from above her shoulder.
"I am sure you can walk," she stated calmly. "Tomorrow i'll be waiting at the usual place."
And before Ezreal could register, she was gone, the door softly clicking shut behind her svelte figure.
Ezreal watched the door, unsure what to make of the strange little meeting. If anything, she had left him with much to think about.
Sighing, he laid back on the bed. As much as thinking wasn't exactly his strong point, it seemed that he would have to put in the effort this time.
But that could wait. First, a nap. His head hurt a little. He only hoped he didn't dream about witches digging into his brain or something.
He never saw Syndra standing outside, silently staring at the closed door for a long moment.
After the "incident", things seemed to return to the usual. Matches kept going one after the other, and Ezreal kept meeting Syndra at the gazebo. Still, some differences didn't evade his attention.
Syndra seemed more, how could he put it, relaxed?
She smiled a lot more, well, more like smirked, talked a lot more and, something he didn't think possible, even joked!
Alright, it was almost always at his expense, usually involving words like "naive", "moron" or "idiot", or at somebody else's, but hey, progress! And he had to admit it, her humor could be quite dark but also funny.
He still told her about his adventures, he still had buckets of stories about those, and she still listened, but now they did other things as well. They talked about matches and other Champions. She borrowed books from him or lent him some, and they ended talking about those; or they just did their things, like she reading and him working over some commission from the museum, all in companionable silence. Those moments brought him to understand why Syndra had chosen the gazebo for her moments of rest. The place was a veritable paradise, with only the chirping of birds and the branches swaying under the wind to be heard.
There was even a nice clearing they could use for training when they felt like it. Ezreal was quite surprised when Syndra went to it during one of their moments together. As much as the Sovereign liked to use and abuse her powers at any chance, very few were ever allowed to see her training seriously. Her private life was taboo around the Institute, something that had extended even to their conversations. It was a shame they couldn't train together - he wasn't very keen on being splattered -, but Ezreal was still quite happy for the trust.
He had learned quite soon that Syndra, for all her bluster, had some things that she just didn't want to share or just found difficult to. The girl was blunt like a hammer and just as vicious, but she just wasn't able to show things like affection or friendship. You needed to learn to read her to understand when she expressed them. It was almost always subtle, a gesture, a nuance in her smirk or gaze, a small shift in her demeanor. Thankfully, he could be very perceptive when he put the effort in, and spotting those small cues had quickly become a bit of a funny game. It was a small delight every time he noticed one.
"Oh! That reminds me," Ezreal began one time they were in the gazebo. He was busy jotting down a description of an old temple for a pal back at the Museum. "Did you ever get around to finish that book i gave you?"
Syndra sat cross-legged on one of the benches, a small galaxy of microscopic dark spheres dancing between her hands.
"You'll have to be more specific," she replied, her eyes closed.
"Uhm…" Ezreal pushed a pencil through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He couldn't quite get the hieroglyph right… "Age of Machines? You know, the post-apocalyptic one? With the giant robots?"
"Ah, the stupid one."
Ezreal's pencil stalled. Slowly, he raised his eyes toward Syndra.
"You're joking," he said flatly.
"Uhm, am i now?" The corners of her lips turned slightly upward. "Let me think about the qualities of a story about giant robots smashing each other in the face with almost no context… nope, can't find one."
"Come on! It's amazing and you know it!"
"Not even close."
"But but…. giant robots!"
She scoffed. "Men and your testosterone. Someone screams and punches something in the face and you lose your mind. Couldn't you be more typical?"
"Well, you're someone to talk about testosterone…" Ezreal grumbled, hurt in his robot-loving pride.
Purple eyes sternly fixed over him. "Did you just say something?"
"Nothing!" Ezreal singsonged, giving her his most dazzling smile. "I was just recounting the Dark Sovereign's love of peace and quiet!"
She closed her eyes. "I am not deigning that of an answer…"
Ezreal chuckled. A point for him! "Hey, some dumb action is good from time to time. You can't just have brainy stuff all the time, you know?"
Syndra hummed dismissively.
"Hey, weren't you the one that gushed over that book about the rabbits? What was his name…" He made a show of thinking over it.
Ever so slowly, Syndra's full lips turned into a smile. "Ezzy, dear." Her voice was pure sugar. "I would choose your next words very carefully if i were you."
Ezreal was a brave explorer. Many would even call him reckless. But even he knew how to recognize when it was the time to play safe.
"A most wonderful book," he hurried to say, coughed and tried to look as busy as possible.
Syndra's smile turned smug. "I was sure we would end up agreeing." She sighed and stood up, stretching. "Mmmh…"
Ezreal watched her warily. "Hey, i already said you were right. No need to come here to disintegrate me." Deciding that he had nothing to lose, he put up his best puppy eyes. "Please, don't hurt me, big sister Syndra."
She chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself, blondie," she said, throwing him a dismissive glance. "It's just that it's enough meditation for now."
"Already? That's new." He was only half-joking. He had long stopped being surprised at her discipline. That girl could go for miles when it came to training.
She fixed him with an unimpressed look. "Well, since someone seems so keen on interrupting me, i might as well just stop."
"Oh, right, uhm, sorry. Ezreal chuckled nervously.
Syndra chuckled again and floated over to him.
"What are you doing?" She asked curiously.
Ezreal was pleased by the question. He always loved it when she took an interest in his work.
"Hieroglyphs from the Gate of the Rain Temple down in Shurima," he said proudly. "There has been some arguing about their correct forms at Piltover and they ask me to settle it." He smiled. "Pretty cool, uh?" Indeed it was. Ah, it felt good to be the greatest explorer!
Syndra frowned at the half-finished symbols.
"This one is wrong," she said after some moments. A slender finger traced the contours of one of the hieroglyphs, indicating a different path. "It should go like this."
Ezreal's smile turned indulgent. "Syndra, darling, i get that you're passionate about this, but archeology is a subject that requires years of study and experience on the field. You cannot just…" He looked at the symbol she had been tracing. He froze. Startled, he made a double-take.
Shit!
"Well well well." Syndra's expression was pure wickedness. "I have been listening. Maybe you should have been listening to yourself more?" She covered her mouth with a hand, eyes practically glittering with evil mischief. "We can only hope that the public from Piltover never hears about this small slip." She laughed at his startled expression.
Ezreal thunked his head on the desk, admitting defeat. Alright, one point for her, goddammit.
"You're evil, you know that, right?" He grumbled dejectedly. "There's something that we good guys call being gracious in victory."
"Ah, and here's the naive thinking." She clapped her hands in mock delight. "I was just wondering where that would come." Leaning over, she picked at his head with a finger. "That's why you still a moron."
Ezreal turned his head, giving her a frowning stare. "Again with that? Come on, it was cool!"
"Indeed, if jumping naked into lava is cool, that was cool as well."
Ezreal rolled his eyes. That girl just didn't want to let that on, did she? Ah, but this time he wasn't going down without a fight.
"It was gallant!" He said with inspiration, pumping a fist into the air. "A brave knight, rushing to the damsel in distress' aide!"
He realized his mistake a moment too late.
Syndra's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glimmer setting them alight.
"And who exactly would this damsel be?" She asked.
"Uhm…"
Looking at that bright-eyed, darkness-enveloped witch towering over him, Ezreal was quite sure that the right answer wasn't: "you."
Before he had even the chance to try and talk his way out, her hand darted out and two fingers pinched him on the back of the biceps.
Ezreal yelped and jumped.
"Did you just fucking pinch me?" He yelled. He turned his arm, trying to look at the hurt part. "Holy fuck, that hurt. What do you have for nails?" It felt like a cat had scratched him, for fuck's sake!
"They are beautiful, aren't they?" Syndra regarded her nails, long and filed to points, with undisguised pride. "Just the right tool to teach you not to be a smartass."
And before he could even protest, she nimbly glided around to pinch him into the other arm.
"Ouch! Stop!" Ezreal half-laughed. Being a jokester at heart, the comedy of the situation was quickly catching up with him.
He turned and tried to fend her off but wasn't quite sure how since she was aiming at his arms. He decided to just cover the skin already pinched with his hands.
"Be a man and take your punishment!" Syndra demanded, trying to pinch again the same places.
"You wish!"
Laughing, Ezreal teleported away, reappearing on top of one of the gazebo's rail.
He grinned widely at a surprised Syndra.
"This explorer takes no punishment laying down. You've got to catch me first!" He said, pointing at his chest. His grin only grew larger as she seemed to hesitate. "What's the matter, Sinny? Scared your awesome cosmic power can't measure up to my running skills?"
If he had learned anything about the mage, it was that she didn't take kindly to any challenge to her prowess. He wasn't wrong. Syndra's eyes narrowed, their inner glow rising ominously.
"Oh, you're fucking on."
Laughing, Ezreal teleported away. He had barely touched the ground that he was already running as fast as he could, heart hammering in his chest.
But was she chasing him? Curious, he glanced behind his shoulder.
He was quite sure he knew danger, but it turned out that you never actually saw its face until you had the Dark Sovereign fly full speed toward you with a predatory expression and a swarm of orbs of darkness trailing in her wake.
Ezreal felt the hair on his neck raise. He just laughed harder and ran faster.
To Syndra's credit, she gave him a fighting chance; or maybe she just gained some kind of twisted pleasure from seeing him try, Ezreal was divided about which was it. Still, one thing was for sure: the woman truly loved to make use of her powers. Like there was a need for some proof about that.
Rains of black spheres, long-range precision shots, telekinetic shockwaves, and grabs. More than once, Ezreal feared that she had let herself be swept in by the excitement. They were only brief moments since he needed all his concentration to keep the chase up.
Eventually, panting, grinning widely, and with his heart thumping with exhilaration, Ezreal managed to lose her between the trees. In the distance, he could just make out the Institute's roof above the treetops. If he could reach it, it was going to be…
The hopeful thought was interrupted by a shockwave that swept over him like a gust of stormwind. It seized everything, reversing gravity and breaking physical laws like it was nothing. Blinking, Ezreal found himself floating from the ground, all around him rocks, sticks and leaves doing the same, trembling like water droplets. They stopped abruptly, like if a rope holding them had suddenly been pulled taut.
Ezreal yelped as he was yanked backward.
He flew through the trees, his Gauntlet refusing to respond, the force holding him making him swerve with unerring accuracy to avoid any collision.
Syndra waited for him by the gazebo. The Sovereign leisurely leaned against a wooden railing, holding up a hand enveloped with purple energy.
Her smirk only grew wider as the invisible force brought Ezreal straight to her.
"Got you," she murmured when he was close.
Despite everything, Ezreal couldn't keep the grin from his face. It was months he hadn't had so much fun. His heart still thundered in his chest.
"I am just going out a limb and say that this wasn't much fair from the beginning."
In place of an answer, she bopped him on the nose with a long, thin finger, making him go cross-eyed.
"Don't be a baby now. I even just played around for most of the time." She looked mightily pleased as she watched him bound and helpless before her.
Ezreal shook his head, still smiling. "You're enjoying this far too much."
Her eyes narrowed, shimmering with unbound amusement.
"You're a bad woman, i hope you know that."
"Probably." She put a hand on her cheek, looking thoughtful. "And what should i do with you now?"
Ezreal stiffened, as much as his invisible bonds allowed him to. "Please, don't pinch me again."
Useless to say, she pinched him again. On the cheek.
"Ouch! God! Cut those nails, will you? I swear, Cho'Gath could learn one thing or two from… ouch!"
"And you just keep begging for more."
"What has gotten into you today?"
"I am just having fun, can't i?"
"Not like th… ouch!"
And that was just one of many moments they shared. Ezreal could swear they were like some old comedic duo: with them, the hits just kept on coming.
And of course, there were the matches to attend to.
The Rift shook under the titanic battle between two Champions. A thundering voice echoed hollowly, matched by another that crackled like it was underlined by the fury of lightning. Swathes of woodland and rocky terrain were swarmed alternatively by waves of electricity and explosions of dark energy. Trees and air sizzled and burned away into eruptions of ionized air. Bursts of darkness tore away chunks of the landscape, leaving perfect dome-sized hollows.
Huddling behind the magic-strengthened rubble of a Tower, Ezreal peeked out, just to quickly duck back down a moment before a wave of scalding air washed over the hiding spot.
"Is that your girl?" Gragas asked with vague interest, his voice slurred as usual. The hulking man took almost the entirety of the safe space with his massive bulk, leaving only a small portion for Ezreal to squeeze into. As much as he belonged to the other team, the risk of disintegration was enough to quell any animosity.
"We're friends," Ezreal explained, peeking anxiously beyond the rocks. Syndra wouldn't have been happy if he threw around words like "mine", and the drunkard wasn't exactly famous for his discretion.
Gragas barked out a harsh laugh. "Spunky stuff, that one. Not each day you find someone that can go toe to toe with Xerath."
"Yeah…" Was the plateau playing host for the match going to resist? He was having some doubts. The Summoners' magic was going to drag them of dodge if things got ruff but he wasn't keen at having to explain why Syndra had destroyed the Rift again.
He called out, screaming to make himself heard over the din. "Can't you guys just call it a draw? It's almost time for lunch, you know!"
The twin answer came with a blow of wind that almost sent him flying.
"I won't be beaten by a rusty flying bucket!"
"I won't yield to a brat playing at magician!"
"Who the hell you called a brat, you old fart!"
"How dare you call me a bucket, mortal fly!"
The wave of destruction redoubled, forcing Ezreal to duck down to avoid being blasted to oblivion.
"Eh, good luck trying to reason with those two." Gragas took a big swing from his casket, a bucket worth of alcohol spilling down his chin and trailing into his massive beard. "It's a lost cause." He wiped his mouth with a large hand, a large drunken smile on his face.
"The Summoners are going to have my head on a platter for this," Ezreal said sourly. "Another reconstruction and the Institute is going bankrupt."
Gragas just laughed raucously.
A massive explosion tore through the air, followed by a sudden silence.
Ezreal froze, ears perking up.
"Well, it seems they are just about done." Gragas ponderously got up.
"Ez! Get your scrawny ass over here!"
"Gragas! I require assistance!"
Ezreal rolled his eyes but still grinned. "On three?"
Gragas grinned back. "You count."
"One, two… three!"
Ezreal teleported out of cover. His feet had barely touched the ground that he was already running. The earth-shaking steps of Gragas told him that his once-again opponent was doing just the same.
He found Syndra at the center of a still-smoking cavern. The woman was trying to lift herself, her usually blazing aura of power reduced to a blinking glow.
"About time you got here," she spat as soon as she saw him. Her disheveled hair clung to her face, the only visible eye still blazing despite her obvious weakness.
"Got hold up talking with a friend." Ezreal grin's earned him a scoff.
Quickly, he turned and crouched,, offering her his back. If someone ever told him that he was going to offer a piggy ride to the Dark Sovereign, he would have burned them at the stake for being a witch. But hey, the combination worked. Why complain?
Using the last of her strength, Syndra levitated to him and let himself go over his back. Her body felt amazingly soft and firm, and was incredibly warm like she had just made a bathe into lightning, something that probably wasn't very much away from the truth.
"Got him good, that pile of rust," she panted with a tired grin, her face close to his own. Of course, she was far too proud to admit to anything less than victory.
"Good game." Ezreal offered her a closed fist, that she bumped with her own. "Ready?"
She latched his arms around his neck, entrusting herself to him. Thankfully, Ezreal had long grown accustomed to helping her out of rough spots. Otherwise, the feeling of her front assets pillowing against his back would have him blush furiously.
He put his hands beneath her thighs, and, after making sure that his grip was firm, got up with a heave.
"Well, somebody has put some on some weight." He grinned to her. "Maybe you should stop floating around everywhere and start walking more."
Syndra's eyes shimmered dangerously, her grip around his neck tightening.
"You're lucky i am a bit tired," she threatened, but there was a hint of humour in her words.
Ezreal laughed. "Better not choke me, or you're stranded here. Where to, madame?" He asked, affecting impeccable manners.
Syndra muffled a small chuckle against his shoulder. "To the Nexus, butler. The Sovereign needs some time out."
"At once!"
Ezreal started running.
"Butler, uh? I am almost flattered. I thought…"
Ezreal saw the flying barrel a moment before it reached them. Just the time to remember that he couldn't teleport other people with himself and to curse a certain sneaky fatso.
The explosion swept them away like leaves.
Ezreal found himself spinning into the air. He tried to hold on to Syndra, but he lost his hold, and she was torn apart from him.
A moment later, the impact.
SPLOTCH!
Straight into a sinkhole created by the fight and filled with mud.
Ezreal shook the dizziness just to grimace at the stinking situation he had ended into. His legs disappeared into the mud and he was splattered all over with the stuff. His poor ass hurt and it was probably going to be sore for days. God, that had sounded so bad.
"Syndra!" He called.
The place was a mud wasteland. He couldn't see her anywhere. Where in the hell had she gone to?
"Syn…"
His calling was cut short as the mud before it started to shift. He frowned at it, then widened his eyes as it started to rise. It kept doing so until the Explorer was facing a mound half the height of a man. For a terrifying moment, Ezreal was reminded of bad movies about swamp terrors raising from the mud to drag their victims down.
Then, the mound turned around and two purple eyes peered at him in confusion.
"S-Syndra?" Ezreal asked, bewildered.
The eyes blinked slowly, then they hardened a bit.
"Who else am i supposed to be?" The woman's familiar voice said with an annoyed tone.
Ezreal blinked. Slowly, he raised a trembling finger. Oh god. That was… was…
He clamped both hands over his mouth, trying to stifle the rising laughter. Oh God! He couldn't… he just…!
Syndra's eyes narrowed with incomprehension, then suddenly widened. Ever so slowly, she watched at herself. The sudden horror-filled realization he saw was too much.
Ezreal burst out laughing. He grabbed at his stomach with both arms, kicking with his feet. That face! It was priceless!
Syndra snapped to look at him, eyes blazing with fury.
"Stop it!" She snarled.
Ezreal couldn't have even if he tried. Mirth welled uncontrollably. Tears came to his eyes, and he struggled to breathe.
"Stop it!" Syndra screeched in absolute outrage. She stepped forward and started to beat him with her mud-encrusted fists.
"I am sorry, i am sorry!" Still laughing uncontrollably, Ezreal shielded himself with his arms, easily blocking the rain of angry blows. "It's just… it's just…!" His words ended lost into another burst of laughter.
He toppled backward, laughing like a maniac, splattering mud everywhere. Oh god, his chest hurt so badly. But he couldn't stop! It was just too funny!
Syndra's glare could have drilled a hole into a wall. Slowly, it shifted to pure wickedness.
"Since you like mud so much, how about you swim in it."
Ezreal was still too busy laughing his heart out to notice the massive patch of mud and roots floating over him. As it turned out, eating dirt was just as unpleasant as the saying let on.
Author's notes
This had to go into my Lemon Collection (big thanks to the reader that has given me the idea), but then I hit 10.000 words and the end was not even in sight. So I decided to post it as a separate story divided into two chapters.
I still don't know how this pairing has managed to drag him in like this.
I hope it does the same for you!