Sometimes you can go years and forget about the things you used to care about and love… You go years without writing, and then suddenly you decide you want to write a one-shot for a game you quit two years ago. I was going to add this to my one-shot collection but I felt like posting this fresh.
I haven't written in years, so my writing is probably worse now anyway. People change, ships change, that's cool. Also lore changes too, so maybe 60% of this uses old lore.
Am I still made up of cheesy hopeless romanticism? Yes. Will this be cheesy and predictable? Probably. Will I still write it anyway? Maybe.
Mosikiældavín: Chapter 1
Waking up early had never been an issue for Katarina, the nature of her profession just didn't allow for it. She had, from a young age, grown accustomed to requiring very little sleep. After all, you didn't live very long in her line of work if you couldn't rouse quickly. Which is why the last thing Katarina expected was to be woken up by the mid-morning sun cresting up high, its light filtered by sheer blinds.
Katarina groaned, groggily rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her head a cacophony of light and sounds. She cracked an eye open and froze.
This was clearly not her quarters.
Her body was suddenly on high alert, panic ringing in her head as she shot out of the bed she was in. She nearly tripped and tangled herself in the blue sheets on her way up, only to be greeted by a new alarming fact: she was naked as the day she was born.
Katarina's mind raced, as she tried to make sense of the situation. Clearly she had spent the night with someone, but the hangover that still muddled her brain meant she could pull no memories of the night before. Of course, she was an adult, with needs, and… it had been a while. Nevertheless, not having any idea of who her mystery companion was her biggest concern.
Bracing herself, the redhead gingerly tugged back the curtains, ignoring protests of her traitorous body, and was greeted by the familiar sights of the Institute grounds. Katarina let out a string of curses; bedding someone in the Institute was a nightmare, worse if it were a fellow champion. The politics involved were a messy subject she had wanted to avoid at all costs. Yet here she was, standing stark naked in an unfamiliar room.
She surveyed the room, darting around to pick up her lost articles of clothing, haphazardly throwing her leathers back on. Whomever she had slept with was no longer present and obviously was just as sparse in their room decor as Katarina was with her own. The room was mostly barren, save for a few furnishings and a plain four poster bed.
As she made her way to the window, Katarina collected her jacket from where it had been strewn on one of the chairs. The garment tugged and caught a metal helmet that was sitting underneath it, sending the helmet and the chair crashing over. The sound made the assassin wince, both in pain and in fear of discovery.
A few seconds pass, and her keen ear didn't seem to catch any sign of someone having heard. She breathed a sigh of relief before bending down to right her mess, and felt her blood crystalize when she realised she was staring at the all too-familiar helmet of the Barbarian King.
"Shit."
"You look like the chef had you for breakfast."
Katarina only glowered back in response as she plopped into a seat across from Sarah Fortune, one of the few people outside of her fellow Noxians that she could tentatively call a friend, her platter clattering unceremoniously on the table. Still, however good friends they were, the comment was also uncalled for; Katarina having underperformed in their earlier match, allowing Bilgewater to claim the prize boon for their chaotic city-state to use. In the mess hall they were currently seated in, the aforementioned catfish-faced chef was busy slicing fish at a food station with obnoxious flourishes. Having gotten too close on more than one occasion meant that Katarina really did get eaten by the chef multiple times.
Katarina flicked a pea from her plate, almost cracking a smile when it impacted Sarah directly in the middle of her forehead.
The bounty hunter wiped the spot with a scowl. "I know you aren't great at the whole conversation thing, but usually normal people use words to talk, not vegetables."
"Har har," Katarina deadpanned, "Just making sure you don't contract scurvy next time you're out to sea, Cap'n."
"I hope you're only joking, and that you actually know that you can't do that with peas."
Katarina pulled a half-hearted smile that looked more like a grimace.
"Yikes, you really look like shite."
"Thanks."
"Only stating the truth," the other redhead shrugged. "How much did you have to drink anyway? I mean, you were always known to bleed a monkey dry without getting absolutely sloshed."
Katarina groaned, "I don't know. I don't even remember drinking. Why was I drinking?"
"Who needs a reason to?"
She couldn't really argue with that logic.
Well. She could.
In reality there were plenty of reasons to drink. To great victories and national heroes, to losses and fallen allies, to lost childhoods, and to drunken mistakes.
Sarah raised an eyebrow at the lack of response as Katarina pondered, before responding more seriously. "You were celebrating your victory."
The gears in Katarina's head slowly creaked to a start. Her mind began to sluggishly pull the memories from whichever dusty corner her hangover had hidden them.
Katarina hugged the treeline, allowing the shade from the foliage to blot out her existence as she searched for her quarry. She carefully picked her steps as she went, avoiding anything that would cause noise underfoot. She might as well have been able to do it blindfolded. The summoners' time magic ensured that everything, after each match, returned to the exact state it had been the moment in time the spell had been casted. The fields of justice rarely ever changed.
Warfare, however, always seemed to shift its many faces, attempting to hide its nature to all but those the most familiar with it. Katarina knew it well. This may have been a time of peace, but the matches and fights held by the Institute of War masqueraded as contests of glory was not much closer to peace than even the rune wars. The only difference was that unlike her usual marks, the pompous ambassadors, or ancient generals long past their prime, her quarries often fought back. That, and they also never actually died anymore.
Today's match was instrumental to continue the growth of Noxus as a nation and a force of power. The Grand General had been putting forth the notion to expand their city state's borders further across the Northern Plains. A large ore deposit having been recently discovered, was their ultimate goal. Unsurprisingly, Demacia acted as the greatest opposition against the expansion. The ensuing negotiations culminated into today's match. Should Noxus win, the Institute would begin to discuss the limitations to the expansion and ownership of the newly discovered mines. Should they lose, they were to remain as they were, and the mines would likely be claimed by the institute for further resource allocation.
Katarina, of course, was here to do what she did best. She paused by a tree, ducking low and peering through its low hanging boughs. The nearby brook that divided the fields in half murmured, as if completely unaware of the bloodshed it witnessed every day. Katarina caught a glimpse of gold flashing not far up ahead, accompanied by the slightest of splashes.
Bingo.
Keeping low to the ground, she tailed her target as quietly as possible. To Lux's credit, she was doing a rather good job of trying to quiet her ragged breathing, but she had suffered quite a bit of damage from the assassin's hand. A long time ago, Katarina would have underestimated the light mage, boundless positivity concealed a mastery of her element like no other. There were also rumours that the Demacian was particularly good at reconnaissance, a fact that had yet to be proven, either speaking of its authenticity or of her unrevealed skills.
Katarina tailed for a but a moment, before snapping out her hiding spot, her coiled muscles launching her the short distance to close the gap. Lux turned at the sound, throwing a tangle of light behind her, the beams weaved, forming a complex cage around the approaching assassin; Katarina swung her arm, cussing when her knife whistled through the air having struck nothing, its reach stopped short by the burning bars. Making quick calculations, Katarina readjusted her grip, and aimed her knife right at the fleeing Demacian's back. The knife soared, barely arcing in its trajectory due to its speed, and landed true; The already wounded mage didn't have a chance, falling to the ground a half second later. Katarina's blade immediately reappeared in its holster seconds later, summoner magic at work.
Katarina examined the scorch marks on her arms as the prismatic cage faded, not too bad, as long as she got back to the healing dias in her base. She turned to make her way back when her mental connection with her team flared to life, and Darius notified her that Garen was on his way towards her. The warning came a little too late, as not a moment later, three-hundred pounds of Demacian fury burst from the trees.
Garen swept his massive blade, Katarina just barely managing to backflip over its edge. In a blink of an eye, she vanished in a puff of purple smoke, reappearing in the grasp of the nearest tree. Garen roared, swinging his blade again, this time in a double arc, using the full force of the momentum to somehow carve straight through the tree's trunk, bringing it toppling down with the assassin amongst its leaves.
The redhead braced herself for impact, gritting her teeth as a jagged branch tore through her leathers and into the soft skin of her thigh. The magic inhibitors set in the fields prevented her from performing another quick escape. She watched as Garen brought his sword up again, only to be stopped by a large axe head that hooked itself around the greatsword, yanking it backwards, but not quite out of the large man's grip. With Garen's attention momentarily occupied by Darius' arrival, Katarina took off in the opposite direction, back into the treeline, this time not caring to be stealthy. She made it about five feet before she felt her muscles spasm and seize up, a familiar melody playing at the edge of her awareness. Glancing backwards, she spotted the all too recognisable-in-blue Maven of the Strings, with Tryndamere hot on her heels immediately behind.
Katarina gritted her teeth, willing her body to fight the musical compulsion and to reach for her knives. There was a sharp pain as she closed her fingers around the blade, the gash weeping crimson. This was enough to shock her body into motion again. Not allowing her opponents to take any advantage of the situation, Katarina vanished once more, reappearing as a whirlwind of flashing steel. More blades and metal darts than seemed possible slid from hidden compartments as she moved, making quick work of Sona. Garen fell not long after, metal darts striking expertly at the weak points in his armour. Tryndamere had actually managed to bring the flat side of his jagged greatsword up, the knives flying at his face and neck bounced harmlessly off the makeshift shield. He, however, was scantily armoured, Katarina never really understood why, Freljord was cold as balls. The barbarian stumbled on his feet, his entire front peppered by the assassin's numerous types of blades. Hoping to finish the job, Katarina struck once more, spinning not unlike Garen had mere seconds prior, her blade sinking into the thick trapezius muscles by his right shoulder.
The barbarian's roar resounded through the nearby jungle, enough to startle a small flock of birds to flee. Katarina panicked, tugging at her dagger, but Tryndamere's shoulder muscles were tensed like stone, lodging the weapon impossibly tight. She tried to dart away again, but trying the blade had been a mistake, allowing the Barbarian to grab her by the throat with his large hand. His eyes blazed as he gripped her neck, and raised his sword in his other hand. Thankfully, Katarina's vision had already been going dark by the time his weapon struck.
That was right, they had won. The memories of the match were now clear in her mind. It had been a tough fight, but they definitely won. Noxus was to expand and hopefully encompass the mines with her growth. Still, the rest of the evening had been a blur.
"And… what happened after that?" Katarina chanced, worried about the response.
"Your lot partied into the night, damn near burned Singed's place to the ground." Sarah pulled a flask from the hidden folds of her jacket, uncapping it and pouring a healthy splash into a cup before pushing it towards Katarina. "Hair of the dog."
Katarina gave the barest of a nod in thanks before tossing the drink back, letting the rum burn her throat. She had always been more of a whiskey gal, but she wasn't going to complain about free booze.
"To be honest, I seriously thought it was going to happen when Tryndamere came in."
Katarina choked, nearly spitting all across the table when the alcohol burned her nose. She wiped her mouth, looking across at the bewildered Bounty Hunter. "What? When did that happen?!"
"Not long into your partying. You don't even remember the drinking contest?"
More and more clouds seemed to clear in her brain, resurfacing some more missing memories.
"GLORY FOR NOXUS."
The resounding cheer practically echoed throughout the bar, as practically all of Noxus' champions and allies had explicitly made the trip to the Institute to spectate the match; thusly nearly everyone also went to celebrate that night as well. Katarina herself was being hailed a hero, having been able to kill the entire enemy team in one pivotal moment.
She was part way through another pint, courtesy of Kled, when a hush fell throughout the bar. All eyes moved towards the strange intruder, as Tryndamere, paying no heed to the confused stares, shouldered his way into the bar. Icy blue eyes locked with green from across the room, and the barbarian began to purposefully push his way through the crowded room. A low whisper of disapproving booing began to fill the space as he slowly approached the assassin, who was now standing to meet him. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed here, per se, there were zero rules about where league champions were allowed to frequent in regards to any public establishments on the institute grounds, more that people would stick rigidly to nations they were allied with. Freljord had made tentative alliances Demacia a long time ago when Ashe rose to power.
The hissing only grew louder and more disapproving, but the hulking man gave no acknowledgement to it, pulling himself into full height in front of Katarina. She raised an eyebrow. If he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn't working. There were plenty others just as tall and strong as he was, and Katarina had cut down each of them countless times. He also didn't look as tall as usual without the giant horned helmet perched on his head. She raised a hand, and the crowd hushed themselves.
"What do you want, Barbarian?"
Tryndamere glowered down at her, "A rematch. A fair rematch without Demacian babies who know nothing of strength getting in my way."
"And how do you suppose we do that? You know as well as I do that we are forbidden from harming each other off the grounds of the fields." Now that they were talking, Katarina caught a strong whiff of drink from the Freljordian's breath. He was likely already intoxicated, though his impassive face betrayed none of it.
Without breaking eye contact, the Barbarian grabbed a pint from the hands of a nearby Noxian summoner, and downed it, still staring at the assassin. The summoner partially stood up in contention but jumped back down into his seat when the empty stein was slammed back down on the table next to him. Tryndamere wiped the beer foam off his beard with the back of his hand.
"Real warriors can prove their mettle in the drink."
"Interesting." Katarina mused. The crowd looked at one another wide eyed. "And what, pray tell, do I win when I show you how improper it is to show up uninvited here?"
Tryndamere was unperturbed by the hiss of jeers that followed the taunt. "A solid chunk of nevermelting ice. The same glacier type that is used in Gragas' Graggy Ice. I'm sure your potioneer would be glad to experiment some drinks with it."
"And if you win?"
"Nothing. I need nothing but the pride of victory."
Katarina hummed, pretending to be consider the offer, when in her mind, she had already made a decision. Tryndamere was a great deal larger than her, yes, but she knew her way around drinks. The smell on his breath told her that he already must have had a lot. Additionally, many have made the mistake of underestimating her, and lost much gold in gambling against her drinking abilities. Though, she had to give the barbarian credit, he didn't seem to be offering her the same. But most of all, this was her turf, surrounded by her people. There wasn't much to lose in the event of an actual loss. Other than her pride, of course.
"You have yourself a challenge, Brute."
Within minutes, the bar's energy was back in full swing. Singed had a table cleared for the express purpose of the contest, while Sarah brought around their drinks as they polished off jug after jug. The raucous din grew in volume every time one challenger teetered on their seat, only to recover themselves once again.
"Not half bad." Tryndamere slurred after gulping down another pint.
"Yer not so bad yerself, boy-o." A tipsy Kled clankered over, two jugs in either hand, clapping the Barbarian on his back. Or as high up as his yordle self could reach. He plopped two of the steins on the table, "there ya go! More drinks on me!"
Tryndamere threw his head back in laughter. "You lot are funny! Not much different from my people." He fished around into a leather pouch at his waist, and slammed a handful of gold pieces on the table, nearly spilling the full drinks. "BARKEEP. I WANT TO BUY EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM ANOTHER ROUND OF DRINKS."
Everyone in the bar cheered, and the contest was momentarily forgotten, as they all took turns to clap the barbarian on the shoulder, all forgetting where anyone's allegiances lay with alcohol clouding their brains.
Katarina was not willing to be outdone, shouted over the crowd, "I WILL BUY EVERYONE TWO MORE ROUNDS OF DRINKS."
Another cheer erupted throughout the bar, chaos descending as everyone crowded the barkeep's counter for fresh refills of their drinks.
Oh gods, the memory was worse than she thought it would be.
"Who won the contest? What happened after that?"
Sarah shrugged, "No one did. You both disappeared at some point, but I didn't see you go, I was too busy filling drinks. Luckily most everyone was too intoxicated to remember the challenge in the first place, so I don't think you have to worry too much about being known as a wet-eared coward. Though, you should know you've racked up quite a tab with that stunt."
Katarina groaned, placing her face in her hands, her headache making itself apparent again. Likely brought on both by the news of her bar tab, and the realisation that it was getting more and more likely that she had slept with Tryndamere last night.
"What's the matter with you?"
Katarina opened her mouth to respond, but let her jaw hang open when she spotted a familiar helmeted individual enter the mess hall, once again making eye contact with her.
Memories of skin contact, trailing tongues, and piercing blue eyes flashed through Katarina's mind, and she choked back her breakfast as it threatened to escape. She stood up, pushing her chair back with an audible screech, the resurfaced headache pounding in response.
"I have to go."
Sarah glanced behind her shoulder, seeing the Barbarian stride across the room, dodging champions and summoners alike in his approach. The bounty hunter gave a meaningful nod to the door, before standing up to cut off Tryndamere.
"Sinister blade, I-"
Katarina glanced over her shoulder to see Sarah had entirely blocked Tryndamere's way as he was trying to shout over her head to the Assassin. Fortune wasn't having any of it, and pushed the man back with a gentle hand on his chest. "Where you going so fast, big man?"
Katarina turned back around and dashed out the opposite exit from the mess hall.
"Now are you going to tell me what's going on?"
Katarina pretended not to hear, sawing a deeper crevice into the bar table with her dagger. They were currently taking refuge in Singed's bar, its open hours being later in the evening. The location did nothing to ease Katarina's rolling stomach, only bringing up shameful memories. Everything smelling of sweat and regret. Not even the practise match she had been summoned for just prior helped with blowing off any steam.
Sarah huffed, reaching forward from her leaning position against the countertop to pluck the dagger out of Katarina's hands. Katarina instinctively gripped the weapon tightly before acquiescing. The assassin opened her mouth, trying to formulate a response, looking like a confused goldfish for a moment. Heaving a deep sigh of exasperation, she continued to digging at the splintered welt, this time with her fingernails. Sarah tsked and flicked a coaster, knocking the nervous hands from their fixated prodding.
"Come off it, I just waxed that."
Katarina, huffed in response, crossing her arms as she leaned back in the worn, beer stained chair. She couldn't seem to still the restlessness in her hands, drumming her fingers on her arm, pondering how to approach the subject. Fortune waited patiently but didn't allow any moment of reprieve from her questioning stare. The two silently stared each other down, a short battle of wills that spoke volumes of their stubbornness.
Katarina found her mind drifting as she glared at the stormy gray-blues, mind traveling to the ice-like eyes that kept flashing through her fragmented memories. A groan surfaced from her chest, stretched by a release of frustrated emotions, becoming a loud primal growl. What a ridiculous situation to be in. Deep breaths were taken as the assassin re-centred herself, fumbling to find the right words.
"Last night, I may have ended up... spending the night with him." She mumbled, barely audible through the curtain of hair she had let fall over her face.
Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "Well that wasn't what I expected, but it explains a lot. How sure are you?"
"About as sure as waking up naked in his quarters, sure."
A look of sympathy crossed the bounty hunter's face. "How bad is it gonna be?"
"If word gets out? Catastrophic." This was exactly why she had a no institute policy. Fat load of good it did her last night though.
"You both already made quite a scene yesterday."
"Thanks for the reminder."
"You're welcome." Sarah Fortune, ever the charmer.
"Do you think I should threaten him into keeping his mouth shut just to be sure?" How about bribery? Should I just avoid him forever?"
"Where I'm from, they all sound like perfectly reasonable ideas."
Katarina dragged her hand across her face, and rolled her eyes.
"Hey! You're asking for advice from someone with a tragic backstory." Came the reply with a mirthful laugh. "In all seriousness, your only real options are to hope he keeps his mouth shut or to negotiate."
"Great. My specialty." Katarina quipped sarcastically. It wasn't so much as she couldn't do the job, but more that negotiating and all tasks conversational were best left to the likes of her sister and the Grand General.
"Aww, don't whine. Besides, he almost seems to be in a less favourable position than you; Would this be considered adultery, or treason? Maybe both?"
Fortune had a point, perhaps she would be able to turn the situation in her favour. Either way, she had to make sure that his lips were sealed.
Funny how when avoiding someone, encountering them is the inevitable outcome, but they are suddenly nowhere to be seen when they were being sought out. Katarina eventually found the man she was looking for out on the institute grounds. He walked briskly, albeit with frequent pauses, eyes scanning the distance. He seemed to be searching for something, or someone.
"Looking for me?" Katarina called from her perch on the rose garden wall, a small little spot of stonework that had yet to be engulfed in the vines of Zyra's newest botanical project.
Tryndamere's head snapped up to find the source of her voice. He really didn't need to look up far, he was almost as tall as the stone wall.
"Sinister Blade." He greeted grimly. "Are you done playing hide and seek?"
"Let's just cut to the chase. I hate small talk. Let's talk terms."
The barbarian's eyes narrowed, and for a moment they betrayed an undercurrent of rage that he quickly attempted to mask again. At least Katarina wasn't the only one with a crappy poker face.
"I would have never thought you Noxians to be a cowardly lot."
"Would you rather I be public about the whole ordeal?"
"Are you insane?!" At the outburst, Tryndamere gripped one of the edges of the wall, the stonework in his hand crumbling into shards as easily as if were a clump of dirt. "I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but this is insult to the crown, practically a declaration of war."
"You act as if you had no part in this," Katarina gritted her teeth in anger, this is why she hated talking. Stubborn men were the worst to argue with, always acting as if they were never the ones as fault. "It's worse for you, committing treason against your queen."
Where Katarina expected another angry outburst of a response, she was met with a confused look. Typical, men like that were always all brawn and no brains.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
It seemed that neither of them were on the same page.
"What do you think I was talking about?" Katarina tried, having spent the day fretting about the worst, she really had no idea what to expect as a response.
"Are we not discussing terms of the abduction?"
The redhead stared dumbly down at an equally confused barbarian.
"What abduction? Of whom?"
"Is this a joke, Sinister Blade? Where is my wife?"
"Ashe? Why the hell would I know that?"
Tryndamere looked incredulously at her, which was ridiculous. She felt herself with seeth with anger. She had begun to feel that perhaps maybe their nations were not so different after all, but clearly she was wrong. Everybody seemed to always assume as if Noxus had no sense of honour.
"You were the last person I saw in her presence last night."
Oh. Wait. That couldn't be right. Her mind retraced her steps again: The match, Noxus' victory, the celebrations, then the drinking contest, and then...
And then, with Tryndamere's words jogging her memory, the rest of the evening's events finally came rushing back to her.
"I think I won."
Katarina laughed sharply at the slurred statement the Barbarian made. Halfway through the drinking festivities, they had lost track of what the initial goal was, and the Barbarian offered to introduce her to, what he claimed, was 'actual good liquor'. Now here they were, outside in one of the Institute's many gardens, sharing bottles of strange tasting alcohol of Freljordian make. It wasn't bad, it was quite smooth actually, but its taste was of indescribable heavy earthen tones, nothing like anything she'd ever had before.
"You only wish you did."
Tryndamere sluggishly brought a hand up, wavering as he tried to point at her, "You only think you've had more. I had at least six of these bad boys before we even started."
Katarina swatted the finger, "That's your own fault. It doesn't count."
"Tryndamere."
They both turned to find the source of the cold voice, to see Ashe, still in combat attire, standing nearby, arms crossed.
"Oh, miss no-fun is here!" Tryndamere swung his arm in a comical mockery of a grand welcoming gesture, the drink in his hand sloshing healthily into the grass, narrowly missing the Frost Archer's boot. "Whoops!"
"I think it is about time to call it a night, hm? We leave for home tomorrow at dusk." Whatever the Queen felt about the situation she saw laid out before her, her voice bellied none of it.
Tryndamere shrugged in response, and staggered to his feet, using the stone bench to steady himself.
Katarina's keen ears caught him murmur, "I'll be at summoner Tryssa's" as he passed by Ashe.
"Does this mean I win by forfeit?" Katarina snarked at his back as he walked away. He flipped a bird back at her without responding. "Aw come on, I thought we were becoming friends!"
She turned her attention back to Ashe, who had now walked closer and was picking up the empty glass bottles. "I don't suppose you're going to take his place in his wager."
"Whatever it was, I am sure it was foolish." Ashe responded without looking up.
"Wow, you really are miss no-fun. What have you got to lose from letting loose for once in your life?"
"Plenty when you have a nation to run."
"Oh come on, your husband left plenty of booze behind." Katarina wasn't quite sure as to why she was so invested in pushing Ashe's buttons. Maybe it was all the alcohol she already ingested. Or perhaps it was the indifferent airs that the other woman seemed to put on, and now her addled brain wanted nothing more than to peel back those defenses and see if the ice queen really was as frigid as she seemed. The existence of the Institute of War made for strange relations with other nations. Dining with and associating with people that could be considered her enemies, spending years alongside them, and yet knowing nothing about them at all. "We can make it a game of skill."
Ashe finally met her gaze, her eyes a slightly lighter shade than Tryndamere's, a shade so reminiscent of ice that Katarina swore she felt a chill. "You are already drunk, that is hardly fair."
Katarina took another swig from the bottle she still had in her hand, polishing it off, then tossing it into the air. Faster than most eyes could track, she tossed a small throwing dagger and watched as it shattered the falling bottle in mid air.
"Not a problem." She grinned, nodding at the bow that Ashe still had slung across her back. It didn't look like the same one she used on the Fields of Justice, just a plain wooden longbow with minimal embellishments. "Let's make it a game to finish the drinks, and destroy the bottles."
"There is no point in this."
"You're just afraid to lose your pride as a marksman to a drunk."
Ashe raised a white eyebrow, she looked more amused than anything else. "Are you not far too old for taunts and games?"
"Old enough to know a coward when I see one."
Ashe picked up a bottle and sniffed its contents, "Hm, Mosikiældavín. Interesting choice."
"What's that?"
"It is a spirit made from a moss that somehow manages to grow on practically anything.. On wood, stone, even never-melt ice. They say the alcohol we make from it maintains its hardiness and even has medicinal properties." Katarina bit back her excitement as Ashe unslung her bow, and deftly strung it. The archer finished the small bottle off, and pulled an arrow from her quiver with the same hand. Now was a question of how she would manage to toss a bottle and draw and aim a two handed weapon. Katarina just barely had a moment to wonder at that, before Ashe somehow, in one fluid movement, tossed the bottle up, and drew her bow. There wasn't a moment of hesitation as she released almost immediately and the arrow decimated its target. "It was my mother's favourite."
"And here I was thinking I would have the one-handed weapon advantage."
"Sorry to disappoint." Ashe said with a wink.
Katarina felt her stomach churn, clearly she had more to drink than she thought she did, but she wasn't going to back down now from a queasiness. She certainly wasn't going to let Ashe throw her off her game either. She quickly finished off another bottle, and just like the first demonstration, her aim was true.
Ashe surprisingly seemed to pick up the spirit of the competition and followed suit, and they soon fell into a quick rhythm of drinking and throwing bottles. As they grew nearer to the end of their small supply, it was clear that they were both neck and neck. Having drank a significant amount, Katarina's aim was starting to grow a little dicey, missing a few first attempts here and there. Ashe did not have as much to drink, however on the other hand, she seemed to be the more lightweight of the two as she too had to quickly fire off a second arrow to get the bottle before it hit the ground. At this rate, it didn't seem like there would be a clear winner.
Ashe finished one of the last bottles, and took her position to toss and fire again. Katarina found her eyes following the trained movement of the other woman. Even while tipsy, the Queen held herself with a certain level of poise; Straight back, and confident shoulders. The moonlight highlighted her features, reflecting off her hair and pale skin as she prepared herself to throw. The same fluid single-motion she had been using was almost captivating to watch, as she brought her hand around to nock the arrow. Usually Katarina was on the other side of that aim, never having a moment to really pay attention to the intricacies involved in firing an arrow. Ranged weapons were never her specialties when she was still in training. The Archer was definitely a lot stronger than she looked, a bow of that size would require a considerable amount of force to draw, making it all the more impressive that she was able to aim so accurately and quickly.
It was easy to associate Ashe, the Queen of Freljord, royalty, to that of the royalty she had to kill before. Soft, weak, and only good at silver-tongued conversation. As many times as the Noxian had died by the Ashe's hand, it was still easy to forget. Ashe was never hot-tempered or violent like many of the other warriors in the Institute, but she was still a trained warrior, and it would do Katarina no good to forget that.
She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she, only at the last minute, noticed Ashe kick up one of the empty bottles that Tryndamere had left behind. The bottle flipped up, directly into the path of the arrow that pierced through two bottles at once.
"HEY! You can't do that!"
Ashe laughed, a sound Katarina was sure she had never heard before, throaty and yet still managing to be delicate. "Says who?" She bent down to pick up another bottle and they both paused when they realised there was only one more left.
Katarina swore, if she hadn't been so distracted, she would have gotten that one already. The two women momentarily made eye contact before they both pounced, grabbing at the final bottle. Ashe, being closer, managed to wrap her hands around the bottle first, twisting her body, trying to wrench it from Katarina's grip as it closed around on top.
Katarina was right, Ashe was far stronger than she looked, but there was no way the assassin was going to give up. Close quarters combat was her specialty. As Ashe twisted, Katarina shifted her weight, going with the motion, tipping the archer off balance, bringing them both to the ground. They wrestled for dominance in the grass for a moment, before Katarina finally managed to roll them over with herself on top, straddling Ashe.
"Just. Let. Go." Katarina forced through her gritted teeth.
Ashe didn't respond, only pulling downward harder, trying to dislodge the assassin's grip. Katarina refused to let go, nearly face planting into her opposition's shoulder. Ashe gave one last tug, freeing the bottle, but losing grip in the process. The bottle went spinning across the grass, out of reach. Katarina was about to leap off towards it, but was stopped by a pair of hands grasping at her jacket, pulling her back down. Katarina let off a short laugh, she never expected Ashe to be the competitive type.
"Don't you dare." Ashe gasped, short of breath, "Just accept I won."
"That's what you..." Katarina trailed off, when she realised how close Ashe's face was to her own. She had never been so close to the other woman outside the heat of battle. Every detail in her face was visible. She would be lying to say that the Queen was not beautiful, especially lying beneath her, skin flushed, white hair fanned out on the grass. Katarina's eyes traced a faint scar she had never noticed before on the archer's right cheek. It looked like it had once been a nasty gash from her jaw nearly up to her nose. She continued trailing her gaze upwards, following the curve of the high noble nose, up to the ice-blue eyes, framed by snow white eyelashes. She could feel Ashe's cool breath fan across her face, laced with the musky smell of the Mosikiældavín, her own hot breath mingling with it.
Ashe's striking eyes captivated Katarina, making her unable to tear her gaze away, erasing all logic from her mind. Not like there was much left with all that she had to drink. It was almost as if she was experiencing everything from behind a veil of confusion, her brain lagging slightly in comprehension. When it finally caught up, she realised she had closed the gap. She felt cool lips press urgently against her own. Then, it was like a dam broke, all the tension she had been holding in her body melted away as she pressed her body against Ashe's. There was no thought left, nothing but primal action. Some part of her registered that Ashe was responding in her movements, which further spurred her on. She felt a pair of hands move, exploring, leaving a strange cool sensation in their wake, even through the fabric of her clothes.
In kind, Katarina's mouth explored, enjoying the light gasps when she sucked at the long pale neck. Her own hands grabbing at what she could, the heat in her belly growing, becoming difficult to bear. She felt like she was on fire, Ashe's body was like an addiction, not being able to get enough of the cool skin against her own. At the edge of her awareness, she heard a voice moan her name.
A sudden whirlwind of movement, and Katarina found herself looking up in shock as she was now on her back. She took a moment to reorient herself, their positions were now switched. The light of moon was now at Ashe's back, caught by the white strands, wreathing her head like a halo. Ashe grinned down from above cheekily, and lowered herself again to continue where they had left off.
"Oh." The word fell out of her mouth when the evening finally caught up with her.
"OH?" Tryndamere reached up, and wrestled Katarina down from the wall to slam her against it, her being too shocked to react in defense. "Is that all you can say? Where is she?"
Katarina drew a dagger ready to slice at the grasping hand when, like déjà vu, a familiar voice rang out. "What are you doing?"
Tryndamere whirled around, releasing the assassin when he saw Ashe standing there. This time, dressed in finer robes, flowing whites with gold trim, quite different from the ones she normally wore on the fields. A tiara made of woven gold filigree resting on her braided hair, though Ashe hardly needed it to express authority as she did it enough from her presence alone.
"Are we ready to leave?"
Tryndamere looked back at Katarina, a baffled look on his face, before turning away to follow the archer.
"Funny you keep interrupting us like this." Katarina quipped.
Ashe paused in her step, turning back to lock eyes once more. Images of the night before, now clearly passing through Katarina's mind. Her own body pressing against a decidedly female body in her memories, tongues, and wanton gasps. Those eyes, always those eyes.
The moment was lost, when Ashe, without responding, turned heel and continued on with Tryndamere trailing behind like a confused dog.
"Shiiiiiit."
Okay. So it might be a two shot. Or a chapter thing. Depends how I feel. (There are also a few typos here and there that I need to fix, but I'll do that later... When I feel like it.)
