Another songfiction, this one is a parody of 'Do you want to build a snowman?' Yes, you've read that correctly. I dont own Frozen or Disney. If I did Teemo would have his own princess movie.
Intimidating as always and clad in his usual outfit, Swain, the Grand General of Noxus frowned as he stared at the reinforced door of a particular prison cell. An assortment of heavy chains and even heavier padlocks could be spotted in the gloomy torchlight of the damp underground dungeon.
The chains were wrapped around thick iron bars that kept the oaken barricade in place, an extra measure to ensure that the prisoner inside the cell would not escape by any means. Ancient runes of power had been drawn on the walls and above the cell's entrance, flickering ominously in the dark like blinking eyes.
Most Noxian soldiers weren't fond of witchcraft and usually refrained from approaching the glowing runes. Swain found the pulsating symbols comforting. Witchcraft served his needs like any other tool at his disposal. Much like people when given proper direction, magic could create and destroy, it could transform and change to suit one's needs and devolve into specs of disorganized chaos when it wasn't handled adequately.
Yes, witchcraft was a superb tool the usefulness of which could only be restricted by the imagination of its wielder. The problem that Swain was currently facing, however, was the reappearance of a discarded tool of his. A mere scapegoat that, as he had been informed by his countless spies, had recently discovered that she was of celestial descent.
Swain would give his good arm to have such a being under his command. Noxus would be unstoppable if the spiteful angel was to join his army.
'But how could he manage to change the celestial's mind about him after he had betrayed her in the past and shipped her all the way to Ionia like a lamb to the slaughter?' That question kept Swain awake for days until the Grand General had happened to unwittingly wander into the Institute's gift shop while contemplating and scheming. There Swain had literally stumbled upon the solution to his problem, a display rack filled with League-themed books for children.
The cover of one of the books had caught Swain's attention. It was depicting a cute and utterly unrealistic Rengar cuddling at the feet of Sona while she was playing the harp. The book was called 'Mute-y and the Beast' and after flipping through the pastel-colored pages Swain had learned that the story was about friendship, love and brainwashing others through frequent musical interludes between important parts of the plot.
The Grand General had thought the idea preposterous at the time and he had scoffed at the naivety of such a concept, yet as the days passed by and the captured angel refused to serve him once again, his insomniac brain had forced him to test the moronic fairy tale's logic.
And so, here he was glaring at the chains and padlocks on the locked door with bloodshot eyes, his lips peeling back to reveal a fake smile.
"Riven?" Swain muttered pleasantly, trying to mimic the honeyed tone that LeBlanc used every time that she asked for a raise, but only managing to reproduce the crazed smiles and demented giggling voice that Katarina exhibited whenever she was ordered to play nice at ambassador meetings and formal events.
The Grand General held his breath in quiet anticipation. Seconds gave way to minutes and minutes gave way to deafening silence. No response could be heard from the other side of the door.
The two bulky guards dressed in black armor behind him shifted awkwardly, giving sideway glances at one another. The General was looking kinda unhinged today, what with the black circles under his eyes, the unnerving grin plastered on his visage, and the ripping children's book clenched in his shaking hands.
Wetting his lips, Swain started singling merrily, his voice overflowing with false cheerfulness. The guards behind him shared a wide-eyed look before taking a step back, tiptoeing away from the Grand General that had finally snapped.
"Do you wanna build an empire?
Come on, let's go out and claim!
We never invade countries anymore
Battering ram meets front door
It's like you don't want to enslave"
"We used to be best buddies
And now we're not
Because of one tiny war
My demon hand is gonna cry!"
"Do you wanna build an empire?
It doesn't have to be a fair empire..."
"Go away, Swain." Dawnbringer Riven spat from inside her prison cell.
"Okay, bye..." Sang the Grand General, slowly retreating back to his private chambers, his shoulders hunched in defeat. Wary by the intimidating tactician's uncharacteristic behavior, the dungeon guards gave Swain a wide berth as he walked by them climbing the staircase to the upper levels.
The next night:
Swain gently tapped his knuckles against the aged wood, his hair was disheveled and his appearance was haggard, his epidermis was as pale as Diana's bottom.
The Grand General hadn't managed to get a wink of sleep yesterday. A persistent mental image of King Jarvan securing Riven's help after serenading her with an improvised guitar solo kept pestering him every time that he closed his eyes. Swain had to try again, he couldn't risk for the angel to fall into Demacian hands… the consequences would be catastrophic.
So the Grand General visited the Exile the following night and sang to her once again, his facial expression reminiscent of a constipated Sion whilst he smiled good-naturedly.
"Do you wanna build an empire?
Or beat up Ionians with sticks and stones?
I think some company is overdue
I've started talking to
Leblanc and her damn clones!"
"Hang in there, Evaine. I think I'm making progress." The Grand General paused in his singing to whisper conspiratorially at the impossibly still and emotionless LeBlanc that continued staring at the wall next to him with a vacant look of indifference.
Suddenly, a drop of water fell from the damp ceiling above, landing on the illusionist's head. LeBlanc didn't even flinch. Inspired by the stoicism of his friend and her silent support, the Grand General turned back to the locked door. He was so getting that damned angel!
"It gets a little lonely
Ruling over all these burning towns
Just watching the orphans weep and cry..."
"Weep-sniff, weep-sniff, weep-sniff, weep-sniff." He mocked, using his demonic appendage like a hand puppet to demonstrate the antics of those pathetic brats. Abruptly, a little rock fell from the ceiling, bouncing off the raven-haired woman's head.
Swain was disheartened by Riven's quiet dismissal, yet the general couldn't help but marvel at the perseverance of his friend, that not only didn't react to something falling on her head without a warning, but she had even chosen to remain by the angel's cell and try to convince her to join Noxus, no doubt, after he had decided to turn in for the night.
Leblanc deserved a raise, the Grand General mused, she was the only one that he could rely on, his most loyal ally.
When Swain descended the crumbling staircase that led to the lowest level of the Noxian dungeons the next morning, Evaine was already there, patiently waiting for him in front of the angel's cell where he had left her yesterday. She was staring vacantly at the wall, deep in thought, while a guard was waving his hand in front of her face.
The guard saluted him when he noticed him approaching, and Swain clicked his tongue impatiently gesturing for the soldier to leave them alone. The Grand General knocked on the door when the footsteps of the muscular soldier faded in the relative darkness.
"Riven, please I know you're in there
The Summoners are asking where you've been
They say, "Cull your foes, " and I'm trying to
I'm sorry that my orders killed your entire crew
But come on, you are acting like an angry teen"
Pressing his demonic palm against the door, Swain's merry tone slowly turned melancholic.
"We only have each other
It's just you and me
What are we gonna do?"
Leaning forward the Grand General of Noxus placed his forehead against the rough surface of the oaken barrier. He closed his eyes, resignation gripping his heart, the last words leaving his mouth in a pleading whisper.
"Do you wanna build an empire?" He finished his song, his throbbing heartbeat counting the seconds until the winged prisoner responded to his heartfelt plea. A single tear rolled down the cheek of LeBlanc's otherwise apathetic clone. A captured Demacian from a nearby cell sneezed loudly and then apologized for his rudeness.
A calloused hand suddenly touched Swain's shoulder. Turning around to face the newcomer Swain was abruptly engulfed in a bone-crushing hug, courtesy of the sniffling dungeon guard.
"I'll help you build that empire, General." He mouthed between his sobs, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the now frowning tactician, and absolutely no response whatsoever from the eerily silent LeBlanc. Obviously, Evaine was just as stunned as he was from the sudden embrace.
"…And you are?" Hissed the white-haired man, his body language speaking of annoyance and disdain clearly written on his scowling face.
"The name's Olaf, Sir, and I like warm hugs." Replied the muscular guard while continuing to squeeze Swain.