#denren

Premise: Denathrius is Revendreth. The realm will die without him, but it can’t survive with him. Renethal takes his place as the Master of Revendreth, while Denathrius is made to atone for his sins. 

“Who... are you... to judge... me?” Denathrius roared. Crimson anima bled from his eyes in a molten blaze as the chains binding him strained under the force of his fury. It took every ounce of Renathal’s carefully measured composure not to flinch, to step back like he so dearly wanted to. But he didn’t, and the restraints - a gift from the Arbiter herself - held. 

The chains will not break until the Sire is fit to face her judgement. 

“I am not here to judge you for your sins, Denathrius. Only to help you atone, as you have taught me.” It was so long ago that Denathrius created him, and charged Renathal with the vital task of rooting out corruption in the realm. I am only serving my Purpose. The Purpose he gave me.  

“Your arrogance knows no bounds!” 

“On the contrary. It is your arrogance that has brought us here. Your pride that has brought you so low. You saw fit to meddle in forces you couldn’t hope to control, and for what? Power?” Renathal stepped closer to his bound Sire, his composure failing as wrath overcame him. “You were an Eternal One! You were a master of Death, the savior of countless souls! Feared and beloved by all of Revendreth! Was that not enough?” Denathrius once had the undying, eternal loyalty of all the venthyr, yet his cast them aside as fodder in his bid for power. His voice broke as he asked, pleading, “Were we not enough?” 

Was I not enough? 

Denathrius sneered, and Renathal knew he had revealed too much of himself. 

Reckless. I am as arrogant as he claims to believe I could hide from him. 

“So that’s what this is. Your pointless rebellion, your usurpation of my throne. The actions of an attention-seeking child.” His voice turned syrupy and mocking, the same way it had in the Castle. It twisted something inside Renathal when he asked, “Have I neglected you, dear Renathal?” 

Yes, he thought. Renathal told himself that it wouldn’t matter, if things had been different. He hoped it wouldn’t. Denathrius betrayed Revendreth, he went against the Purpose, and allowed corruption into his heart. it was Renathal’s sacred charge to rid him of it. I am not like the Court of Harvesters. My loyalty couldn’t have been bought with promises of power, nor his hollow gifts or affection. 

I am as you made me, Master. I am too much of what I am not to do what I was created for, even if that means I must stand against you. 

“You’re wrong, Denathrius,” Renathal said, calm and certain in the purity of his purpose. “I do this out of love.” 

“Pathetic.” 

“Perhaps. Nevertheless.” The time for idle prattle was over. Renathal couldn’t continue to deny the inevitable. “I hope you may one day overcome your sins and take your throne once more, Sire. It was never my desire to take it. But you have much to atone for, and I fear it may me many millennia before that day comes.” 

“You will suffer for this.” 

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