For the AU ship meme: Garen/Xin Zhao? if you're still accepting these :3
[ Part ½ under the cut. Will follow up with the rest. ]
Zombie Apocalypse AU:
Let it not be said that Demacia was unprepared for a crisis of this magnitude. People had flocked to the capital in order to escape the ravenous undead, shambling creatures that many speculated have originated from the Shadow Isles.
The king gave his decree, and his armies listened. Wars were set aside as all factions, even Noxus, were beset with a common foe. Their priority was to keep the casualties to a minimum, to keep the growing army of dead from multiplying as the days passed. It was not easy.
Garen knew of his history, of the Noxian bloodsport where Xin Zhao remained undefeated despite overwhelming odds. The man had been a constant, the serious, protective kingsguard who softened when he and prince Jarvan had pestered him as untested adolescents, still growing into their bodies and their roles.
He never expected to see this. The retreat had been sounded, and all but a small group stayed behind in order to delay the dead from reaching hapless civilians. Shauna Vayne had given them a stern warning that the only way to safely eliminate their enemy, was through the destruction (or removal) of the head, or piercing through the heart, wherever it might be. The dead came in slow, shambling packs, easy to dispatch in smaller numbers, but nearly overwhelming with their tenacity when they were followed by more.
Each strike was precise, a crippling if not outright lethal blow for man or monster, and even the captain of the Dauntless Vanguard found himself sparing a few seconds in order to admire the older man’s movements, the spear as the extension of his will.
(When they’ve completed their mission, when they’ve stalled long enough, Garen claps his hand over the seneschal’s shoulder. Xin Zhao is bright-eyed and tense, but like always, always, he softens when he realizes that the threat had passed, and it is easy to pretend that the man softens for him.)
Viscero was a memory given flesh in times of crisis.
(To admire a man for half what he was, what he is, was folly. To admire a tiger for its fangs and pelt, to wear its skin for nothing but vanity, was a waste.)
Regency/Victorian AU:
Marriage was a fate that none of them could escape, not with the prominent positions their parents occupied in the haute monde. Garen knew his duty, knew what he must do as his parents’ heir and the sole child that would carry their name to the next generation.
That doesn’t stop him from bending to his friend’s will and escaping a few of the arranged meetings with possible matches, laughing with Jarvan and the boys at the men’s club with a guard in tow.
The man rarely spoke unless spoken to first. Once or twice, much to his embarrassment, the guard (whose name still eludes his pronunciation) had to summon a hansom cab in order to haul their drunken arses back to their respective residences after one too many glass of brandy.
Garen knows his duties. The man knows his. Misery wasn’t so bad with company.
Cyberpunk AU:
Nothing good came out of the Institute of War.
The exclusive club catered to some of the most primal desires of mankind, despite the claims that this was the era where they transcended such designation. Violence had always been a craving of the mind, an echo of evolution’s touch. The Arena was a proving ground for the brave, a death sentence for the unfortunate, and a fleeting pastime for the wealthy.
“Is he still going to be in the roster tonight? I hear that his match yesterday cost him an arm and a leg, literally.” The new Doombot models certainly had an explosive debut, but found themselves no match for the undefeated champion. Victory, however, had come at much too high a cost.
Garen listened to the conversation quietly, eyes narrowed. Bloodsport was one thing, but fights to the death were another. It was the reason why the chief wanted this place shut down. Garen’s reason was a little more personal.
It’s been three months. Three long, damning months where they’d been unable to do a thing thanks to bureaucracy and the delicate interplay of politics that mired the higher ranks of the police force. Three long months where Xin had been forced to fight for his life once more.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re in for a treat tonight!” The announcer boomed, the crowds quieting as the spotlight focused on the center of the arena, but not at the speaker, no. What stood there was a mockery of his friend, his mentor, his partner. Sleek black and a strange, fluorescent blue, with a translucent visor that covered the upper half of his face. Even the spear was wrong, a thrumming, electric thing that was the furthest one can get from the beautiful, traditional spear that was his partner’s trademark.
Garen waited, closing his eyes as he fought the swell of rage that threatened to consume. But getting captured here and now would not do either of them any good. He could only wait, and watch, for now.
And watch, for he had no right to look away from this.
Dystopian AU:
“We managed to disrupt the supply line funneling in the ore.” Xin Zhao’s voice never wavered, even though his appearance told a far better story of the long, sleepless nights of surveillance. Noxus’ victory over Demacia had had a domino effect, leaving most of Runeterra bowing, or aligning, with the enemy.Hope wasn’t lost, even if the prince had gone missing once again. The remnants of the Demacian armies that defected after the main body underwent serious indoctrination and structure reformation by the Noxians tried their best to stamp out any rebellion.
Garen looked up from the map, sharing a wan smile with the former seneschal, angry, red scars, freshly healed crinkling painfully as they shared a similar sentiment. “We have a long way to go.”Perhaps it was in vain, but nothing would come out of it if they didn’t try. For Demacia, for a city-state that no longer existed. For the king, for the soldiers under their command. For their friends, for themselves.When they fought, back to back, it felt just like the old days.
Arranged Marriage AU:
He was to be wed to the daughter of a prominent House, as he was meant to be. Jarvan had given him a sympathetic pat on the back, and graciously offered to host a stag party for him on their nearest day-off. Garen had waved the offer away, stating that he knew that it had been an inevitability that he’d seen coming for many years.
Xin Zhao offers him congratulations, but the words seemed to be an ill-fit for expression that crossed the man’s face for a split-second. He thanks the seneschal for the well-wishes, and knows that his vows will taste like ash on his tongue.
The wedding is grand, made grander by the presence of the prince as his best man, an unprecedented honor. But the man that he wants to stand by before the altar is the one that is absent. Perhaps, for the best.
High School AU:
Demacia Preparatory High school was an exclusive school, known for its deep-rooted sports and academics rivalry with Noxus High. Garen was the captain for the football team, and a member of the soccer team as well, and when he hears of the transfer student from Noxus of all places, he wonders if the guy was going to be ready for the fall-out.
When he hears that Xin had been expelled from their rival school, Garen is intrigued. He didn’t seem like the type to stir trouble, keeping to himself save for following Jarvan around like some protective guard dog.
I owe his father a great deal.
It’s something to think about. But at this point, he’d rather focus on watching the new kid kick the asses of the entire judo team for his ‘tryouts’. They were never going to live that down.
Fashion AU:
They’ve known each other for years, and they’ve worked on shoots more times than he could count. But a drunken night before the Milan spring collection had been reviewed turned out to open a wholly different can of worms.
They’re nearly late for the final fitting, there are bruises on their necks that takes half an hour to conceal with make-up.
Still. Xin Zhao can’t help but smile, and steadily keep silent as paparazzi question him on who the lucky lady might be.
In this industry, sometimes, discretion was the better word for valor. Besides, if they couldn’t see the way the blush crept up to Garen’s ears every time someone brought it up in a conversation… Well. That was their loss.
