Disclaimer: I own the copyright license to every single character created and developed by the game designers at Riot Games. You don't believe me? I honestly don't care.

Foreword

Why hello there! I didn't notice you for a moment! It appears as though you are reading the story that I have written, of which I am very glad. I would like to point out that this is my very first ever attempt at fan fiction writing, so please do not waste your time typing petty insults about the sexuality of my mother, or any other related topics. On the other hand, constructive critism, or for that matter any feedback whatsoever is greatly appreciated. Keep in mind that you too were once an aspiring young author like me, and I'm sure you held on to every single comment like dying man's last breath, savoring every last word, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Please do comment, if nothing else. I would also greatly appreciate the "following" of me or this story, as it would give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

I wrote this story because after visiting this site for the first time about a week ago, I noticed that the "lemon" stories were easily divided into three distinct categories: Exaggerated ones for the "hot" factor, ridiculous ones for the hilarity, and more realistic ones for *slightly* less perverted people. I wanted to add to the "realistic" category.

I thought it best that I write a sexual story first because fan fiction that does not involve this is pointless and overdone, in my humble opinion. The backstory of the champions in League of Legends have already been written. Sure, you can take a creative liberty and elaborate upon it, but I personally find that boring to read. The intimate and personal lives of the champions, however, have never been mentioned by the game designers and nor do I expect they ever will be. Thus, I even more so enjoy taking it upon myself to craft these unwritten tales.

With this piece, I attempted to make a somewhat believable story with the bulk of the storyline happening before the actual intimacy. You will find no rape, incest, or bestiality here (not that those are neccesarily bad to have in a story). There will be no mention of implausible quantities of bodily fluids, or champions randomly shouting out abilities and catchphrases during any scene here. There aren't even any puns. I think. I also attempted to clear up the better part of the spelling and grammatical errors.

I believe it also may be important to note that I slightly deviate from the back story given by Riot in order to write my story in the way that I see it. For example, neither Ashe nor Sejuani have joined the League yet, even though Ashe is well past the age when she does. There are other slight differences, but I suspect that you will not notice them. I'm just that subtle.

The first chapter is more of an explanation of sorts. The backstory. The second chapter is the scene leading up to the fun part, and also involves some violence. The third chapter is the one with sexytimes. You can skip to it if you want.

Enjoy.

-Davelin Marque

Chapter The First

The wind from a thousand ghosts of years past swept over the frozen wasteland of Freljord. It was seemingly evil in its nature, bringing shivers to all but the most warm blooded of beings. One of these beings was Sejuani, a strong hearted warrior from the most desolate of lands. The wind swirled snowflakes everywhere, obscuring the vision of anyone from more than fifty feet away.

Despite this, Sejauni's young body drew hungry looks from many of the men living in Freljord. The people were starving and without hope. As she strode down the middle of an ancient, snow covered street, a grizzled man of thirty watched her from behind a window tainted with ice. Here was one of the only places for miles around where people could enjoy themselves. The original name long forgotten, it was colloquilally known as "The Tavern." Never before had the man seen such a beautiful creature. He brushed a gloved hand across the window, removing some of the ice and alowing him to see more clearly.

The sight he saw was something to behold, something from his dreams. Her feet were sheathed in warm, fur lined boots. Besides the boots, her long legs were bare except for a short skirt- also fur- affixed to her waist by a black leather belt. She was wearing several pieces of lightweight armor, but it did little to conceal her stomach or arms, which was quite remarkable for such cold weather. He could little help but notice her breasts either, which were large for such a malnourished people, and encased in only a few small straps of leather. The man wondered at how she could walk around in such a manner, displaying her half clothed body for all too see, without suffering from severe frostbite.

She has a strong mind, a strong soul, a strong body...

The final piece of equipment she wore was the most impressive, and yet foreboding. It was a large helmet with a single crystaline blue horn on one side. If she was not wearing it, she would have seemed innocent, almost enticing. With it, she was nothing less than menacing. The man could not help notice this as she confidently continued down the street. Anyone else would have been challenged- the land was violent, and the people unpredictable. But she carried with her a supreme and yet deadly air, striking down all those who questioned her with a frosty gaze.

Now at nineteen years of age, Sejuani was nearly ready to save her people. Her resolve was as steely as her cold blue eyes. She had trained for hours in the frigid weather, fighting countless warriors, male and female alike. In these times, gender mattered far less than a strong will to survive. One thing still stood in her way however- Freljord was a vast expanse of warring tribes and the only way for her people to live was to defeat the others in battle. She was practically the "chosen one" already- word had been spread about her, and even should she fall in battle, she would still live on in legend, remembered as "the Heart of the Blizzard."
Sejauni knew that the only way to win was through war, complete and utter destruction, bloodshed on an epic scale. Yet, there was another young Freljordian woman who would disagree with her.

If Sejuani possessed a rugged beauty born from a true blooded warrior, Ashe was her near opposite. Born a direct descendant of Avarosa- one of the three sisters who gained control of Freljord in an epoch of it's own- she was one of the only true princesses left in the land. Although a deadly archer in her own right, she held a aura of supremacy about her that made some dislike her. Being well born, she considered herself to be morally higher than most of the poor men and women of the scattered tribes. She advocated for peace as the only way to end the struggle in Freljord.

She has an arrogant heart, a skillful hand...

Like Sejuani, she turned heads wherever she went. She wore very little clothing, in a similar fashion to the young tribal warrior, and her mild wealth led to a full body and smooth, well complexioned skin. The most striking difference in appearance is that while Sejuani wore her battered war helmet, Ashe preffered a sleek archer's cowl, making her face a closely guarded enigma to all but those who spoke with her in person.

Unfortunately, her campaign for peace would make her a large target in the crosshairs of Sejauni's deadly ball-and-chain mace, her weapon of choice. From her balcony overlooking a massive valley, she gazed out across the frigid, windswept plains. She had no way of knowing that from miles away, in the back room of a snow covered wooden cabin, Sejuani stared directly back at her. Neither could see each other, but they each gazed upon each other with icy blue eyes that cut through time and space like a frost-imbued arrow. Sooner or later, their paths would cross, and in the end, one of them would be the victor of an endless struggle than spanned centuries. Peace or war, the path to salvation was long, but the path was nearing it's end, with two young women caught up in the thick of it.

Sejuani gladly accepted a steaming mug, offered to her by one of the elders of the tribe, a man with a face that was cold and uncaring, a frozen tundra of wrinkles and facial hair. It gave him an aura of fearful respect that permeated every aspect of his life. His past was unknown. A well known Freljordian poem goes like this:

Fifty years,

The cold wind blows.

The chilling wind,

The endless snows.

Across the plains,

No ear doth hark,

Save but one man,

Young Davelin Marque.

He appeared from the barren wasteland, seeking shelter. He did not give his name or any explanation, and from a small child's strange connection between the poem and the man, he became known to the people of Sejuani's tribe as Davelin Marque.

Sejuani came to him now, needing answers, craving guidance. Davelin was intelligent and informed- he liked to keep it that way, lest his enemies discover him again.

"Davelin, tell me how the present has unfolded." He regarded her with a serious expression, and paused for a moment before answering.

"Sejauni, have you heard the rumors? Of the 'Frost Princess,' this self proclaimed leader of the Freljordians?" His breath clouded in front of his face as spoke the words.

"I have heard of her." The response was simple, concise. In such a place, words were not wasted on meaningless conversation, for many had few words to spare. What had to be said must be said, in the simplest manner possible.

"She seeks to bring peace to the lands. Peace..." He spat in disgust. "Peace... will never come to Freljord. You know that. Everyone knows that." He became silent for a several moments, his head down. Sejuani waited a moment before he finally spoke. "I know that..." Then his voice grew earnest. "Sister, you mustn't wait. She threatens all you have fought for." Sejuani accepted his words and pondered them for a moment. I must know more. She nodded to Davelin, an explicit sign that he should continue.

"This Ashe- she claims to be descended from Avarosa- I'm sure you've heard the rumors. Certainly, she is a-" Despite her query for further information, Davelin's words lost their meaning as Sejuani pondered the possible outcomes of this turn of events. The leader of my enemies. Surely, to bring down this Ashe would be to bring sustenance and salvation to my people.Davelin continued to explain the threat, but Sejuani's mind was clear. Only a short minute of conversation gave her one certain thought- she had to confront Ashe, and make it known. The journey would be easy for one of her talents. The real challenge would be getting Ashe within range of her mace. Only then could the endless struggle for survival end.

She has an arrogant heart, a skillful hand...

She held up her gloved palm mid-sentence, cutting him off. Without a word, she stood up and swept from the room. Davelin asked for no explanation. He needed none.