Twice, Renathal realised Revendreth was his. The two occurrences could not have been more different. Rated T for no smut, just some heavy petting. Read here on Ao3 for triggers and tags
Takes place following Denathrius' defeat, immediately before "Interrupted, Again"
It was over.
The weary band of warriors - mortal alongside venthyr and stoneborn - had finally dragged themselves out of Castle Nathria and back to the safety of Sinfall. There was not a single one not sporting some sort of injury, and many of the mortals were being propped up by other, less damaged compatriots. Renathal's own body cried out for anima, and rest. But he, like everyone else in the party, was smiling as he glided through Sinfall’s courtyard to tumultuous applause.
It was over, and he, the Fallen Prince, had won.
Renathal could hardly move for the crowd swelling around him; mortals congratulating him, venthyr thanking him. Everyone wanted to hear from the Prince's own lips that Denathrius was truly defeated, and Renathal never tired of the words no matter how often he repeated them.
For the first time since his rebellion had been re-instated, no part of his confidence was for show. He had not felt this powerful, this in control, in … potentially his entire existence. The Master had always made certain Renathal knew his eternal place was second best. Yet, in spite of Denathrius' best efforts, it was Renathal who had triumphed in the end.
Not that the Dark Prince thought for a moment he had done it himself.
Renathal's eyes scanned the surrounding faces, searching for the Maw Walker. The only thing remaining to secure his total victory was to have her at his side. He wanted to sweep his secret lover into his arms in plain view of everyone, kiss her while all of Sinfall and her mortal allies watched. There was nothing to hide from anymore. Denathrius could not take her from him.
Except the Maw Walker was nowhere to be found.
Most of the triumphant raiding party were gathered around Stefan's hastily prepared refreshments, but the Nightborne was not among them. She was not with Theotar in his shaded tea corner, nor mingling with the merry-making Venthyr on the ramparts. No matter which way Renathal looked, he could not locate her distinctive purple sheen.
Instinct, or rather the urgings of an existence-old fear, led Renathal’s thoughts to Denathrius and his feet swiftly around the Spire to the open, empty cliff behind. Sure enough, there was the Maw Walker, standing at the cliff’s crumbling edge.
Except for her battle-worn robes and mussed hair whipping in the bitter breeze, the Nightborne was entirely still. She was one of the least injured of the raiding party, yet by far the most subdued. She spared the merest glance for Renathal's noisy approach before returning her gaze to the top of the nearby tower.
Renathal's boots slowed only when he reached the Maw Walker's side, kicking up a miniature storm of stony debris as he stopped short. Her oddly frozen reserve upset his plan to scoop her up and carry her triumphantly to the distant celebration. He crossed his arms behind his back for something else to do with them.
"Shall I ask the guests to join us here so we all may admire your victory?" asked Renathal wryly.
The Maw Walker flicked her bland smile on and off.
"I'm just examining the defenses." She nodded in the direction of Dawnkeep. "I suppose there will be guards stationed here? And patrols around the tower?”
Renathal frowned.
"That would be an exceptional waste of resources given Denathrius’ soul is imprisoned in Remornia. He cannot simply walk away."
"Oh, yes," said the Maw Walker, with a mirthless snort. "Because swords in this realm never go off and do their own bidding."
Renathal’s mood was too good to be goaded. Their standing argument on enchanted objects could wait for another time. He tucked loose strands of dark, windswept hair behind the Maw Walker’s long ear, the better to see her silhouette. It was oddly pinched, as if holding her impassive mask in place was a struggle.
"The Light is the perfect jailer,” Renathal reminded her. "Even Remornia cannot escape such a trap."
"And before Z'Rali,” the Maw Walker argued, “No one could escape the Sanguine Depths."
"Z'Rali did not escape. It was rescued by you."
"And before me, nothing could escape the Maw.”
Irritation rose and fell abruptly in Renathal, like the pitch and toss of the wind on the unprotected cliffside. Why must she insist on fighting with him now of all times?
"Are you planning to rescue Denathrius?" he asked sardonically.
The Maw Walker's sense of humour was typically just as dry as Renathal's, but her expression as she whirled to face him was distinctly unamused.
"Of course not.”
"Then what is the point to this musing?"
"The point…” The Maw Walker wrapped her arms around herself as if for warmth. Her eyes flicked restlessly to Dawnkeep's dazzling Light. “...Is that I think it unwise to assume anything is inescapable anymore."
Renathal studied the Nightborne, trying to determine the cause of her ire. Her lips were tightly pursed, which he knew indicated displeasure. It was an expression he had seen several times before, and usually when…
"You think I am making a mistake?" Renathal ventured.
The Maw Walker’s shoulders rolled noncommittally. It might have been a shrug, or a reaction to the chill, and her silence confirmed neither. Her eyes wandered the bare cliffside, falling on everything except the Prince in front of her, and continuously returning to Dawnkeep. She was clearly nervous; a rare enough thing for the Maw Walker to be, let alone to reveal.
Although, Renathal supposed, she had endured a strenuous few days. The Nathria raid had been far from straightforward, and the events of the night before the raid had been … difficult to say the least. Nor had there been sufficient time to recover from either.
Renathal swallowed his rising frustration, and called her name softly. The Maw Walker turned at his voice, compelled. He framed her face with delicate fingers, as if she might crack under the slightest pressure.
"What would you have me do?"
Though the Maw Walker could not physically look away with her face caught fast in his hands, she still managed not to meet Renathal's eyes.
"I am not in a position to give you counsel on this," she said flatly. "I am ... the Maw Walker, not a Harvester. I am not qualified to pass judgment on souls."
Renathal tilted her chin higher, until her blue-white eyes were forced to find his.
"I am not asking for your counsel as the Maw Walker. I crave your thoughts, as..." Renathal hesitated, wetting his lips before finishing, "My dearest friend."
The Maw Walker blinked. For several long moments the only sound was the wuthering wind, while she gathered herself to confess whatever weighed down her tongue.
"Renathal.” She wrapped her fingers around his hands and drew them gently from her face. “Leaving him here is an ill-advised idea. No good can possibly come of it."
Renathal's hands clenched into reflexive fists, the Maw Walker’s fingers trapped within. He knew exactly to whom she referred.
"While Denathrius remains in Revendreth, the fight isn't won, just delayed," she soldiered on, despite Renathal's tightening grip. "I am afraid ... you see something in him that isn’t there anymore. If it ever really was."
"The Sire was the most good and beautiful being in the realm once, you know," replied Renathal coolly. And when the Maw Walker said nothing, he released her hands. “He was. What you have seen of him is the result of corruption. You do not know the true Denathrius. Not as I do."
Renathal folded his arms behind his back once more, and turned into the whipping wind to survey Dawnkeep himself. The Maw Walker might be knowledgeable for a mortal, but in this she was out of her depth.
"This entire realm," said Renathal somberly. "Myself included, would not be what it is without the Sire's tireless work over inestimable eons. The eternal fates of more souls than you are capable of calculating have rested solely on his shoulders. His desire to be free of it, while regrettable and certainly not permissible, is somewhat understandable.”
"And his crimes against you?" asked the Maw Walker grimly.
"A result of that corruption," Renathal answered without looking at her. His eyes attempted to penetrate the distant halo of Light, to find the Master he knew waited within it. “It will take time ... time the likes of which you as a mortal cannot comprehend, but I will return him to what he was."
His nostrils flared as he inhaled, contemplating the work ahead of him. It was a staggering prospect, saving the Sire's own soul, but Renathal looked forward to it eagerly. It was the challenge he had waited millennia for, perhaps the very reason he had been created. He would hold the realm while the Master atoned for his many sins and his soul was cleansed of corruption. At which point Revendreth would be his once more, with the Dark Prince in his proper place - restored to his Master's side.
But ... his grand future plans contained one other important element, and she was not participating as Renathal had hoped. He glanced at the Maw Walker, still pointedly silent, and his brow furrowed.
"You think Denathrius' crimes are such he should not be permitted a chance at redemption?" he asked archly. "You believe a mortal such as yourself knows better than the Prince of Revendreth what the Sire's soul deserves?"
Condescension dripped from every word, and the Maw Walker's eyes flashed.
"I do not believe he can be redeemed, Your Highness. I do not believe he wants to be."
It was minutes before Renathal could summon a civil, rational retort. He took a few heavy steps further up the cliffside, letting the wind and the loose stones beneath him absorb his simmering anger. The Maw Walker’s aspersions on the Master's character hit Renathal like a punch to the gut. Yes, Denathrius had committed atrocities, Renathal was intimately aware, but underneath the madness was the father he loved ... the mentor he respected ... the creator he worshipped.
Those things had to be true, and it was Renathal’s mission to make sure they were true again. And he could not do it with his new closest confidante questioning his foundational beliefs.
"So," said Renathal finally, his pacing leading him back to the Maw Walker's motionless form. "Were the choice left to you, you would condemn Denathrius to the Maw?"
The Maw Walker shook her head, watching Renathal warily.
"I think we've all seen now what happens when powerful souls are condemned to eternal torment.”
“Then what? You would prefer to see him destroyed?”
The deadly chill in Renathal’s voice sent an unmistakable shiver up the Maw Walker’s arms, but she steeled herself against it, lifting her chin stolidly.
“You asked me specifically to always tell you hard truths. Well, this is one.” She stepped closer to Renathal, defying the wind's violent attempts to drag her back. “I have seen how this ends! You cannot compromise with evil! If you do not finish this now, Denathrius will find a way to free himself. Maybe next week, maybe not for ten thousand years. But when he does, we will be doing all of this all over again, and the destruction he wreaks will be on our heads!”
The Maw Walker flung an arm in the direction of Sinfall, presumably indicating the rebellion she feared to repeat. It was a rare display of earnestness at which Renathal would ordinarily marvel. But he barely registered the gesticulation or the throb of despair in her voice. His thoughts were entirely preoccupied with a single word of her speech.
“We?” The word echoed through Renathal's very limbs, vibrating his anima, leaving his knees slightly shaky. “You … have plans to be in Revendreth ten thousand years from now?”
Familiar violet pinpricks blossomed on the Maw Walker’s high cheekbones. She brushed nervously at her wind-tangled hair, hiding her face as best she could as she fumbled for a reply.
“I - well , I don’t really have any plans for ... any part of the future, except … I mean, we’re no nearer to stopping the Jailer or ending the drought … and I always intended to see the whole thing through, so I’m certainly not going anywhere soo-
The Maw Walker broke off with a breathless gasp as Renathal grabbed her fidgeting hands and pulled her against him. He leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss that was gratitude and apology and forgiveness all in one. It was impossible to maintain a good head of anger with her fingers carding desperately through his hair, her body clearly as eager as he was to drop their unpleasant debate.
“Well then,” said Renathal thickly, when he at last allowed the Maw Walker air. “If you are here, I cannot see I have anything at all to worry about. Even if Denathrius does manage to escape."
His lips curled past his fangs in a smile as victorious as he had worn in the courtyard. And if he deserved congratulations for anything, really, it was this. That he had somehow convinced the Maw Walker to remain with him even now her work for Revendreth was technically complete.
Renathal brushed fluttering hair out of the Maw Walker’s face, reveling in the dark desire now tinting her worried countenance.
“I understand your fears," said Renathal soothingly. "They are natural, given your experience. But our situations are not the same. I know Denathrius better than anyone, and he can be saved. I will save him." He held her eyes captive in his glowing amber gaze as he asked, "Will you trust me?"
The Maw Walker's grip on his hair briefly tightened, her face twisting in a reluctant grimace. For a moment, Renathal worried she would offer more argument, or worse, change her mind entirely. But -
"I do trust you,” she said at last, and her breath fluttered Renathal's goatee as she sighed. “And … I hope you’re right.”
It would suffice.
Renathal took her lips again, sealing the end of the argument. In seconds, the conciliatory kiss had devolved into something more heated. He slid careful claws around the Maw Walker's shoulders, feeling for her warm skin through her thick layers. And when she moaned into his mouth, hips shifting restlessly, Renathal decided to forgo the grand scene he had hoped to make. It had only been days, but days more eventful than many centuries, and all he wanted now was to get his Maw Walker alone.
"It occurs to me," murmured Renathal raggedly. "I have yet to properly thank you for everything you've done for Revendreth. And myself in particular."
He stroked his thumb along her bottom lip, and savoured the thrill of her tongue flicking out to meet him.
"Shall we remedy that?"
"Yes, please," said the Maw Walker breathlessly.
Without waiting for anything further, Renathal summoned shadows around them both and wended through them, away from the lonely cliffside, and the distantly watching Master.
Read Part 15: Masters of Revendreth: Things Unseen | Visit the Masterpost
