Authors Notes: Just the common stuff for now, i don't own League of Legends Blah Blah Blah. WARNING: This Fic is OC oriented, if you don't like that no one is making you read this. The only other thing i would like to point out is that this uses Katarina's old lore. the lore that didn't explain how she got her scar. with that out of the way, Enjoy!
*Edit: Just so everyone knows, this does have a Sequel. The Freljord Incident, which can be found on my page.
Chapter 1
A Temporary Respite
The heavy oak door gave a long groan of protest as it was pushed ajar. A figure stood against crowded shapes and sounds of the Institute of War. A massive pillar lined room stared down at her, chill air seeping out of the archway that stood at least three times her height. The slim figure stared cooly back at the pillared room for a moment. Whispers escaped from the robe clad crowd as figure advanced on the room. The doors closed with another loud protesting groan, sealing the intrigue of the crowd out and the silence in. The figured continued its advance across the room its goal in sight. A large staircase stood defiantly at the other end of the hall, above it a smaller, but older looking, wooden door with a shining strip of gold at eye level. No natural light entered the room. Its windowless walls were lined with torches, a magical blue flame silently dancing atop each one. The figure paused, reaching the top of the staircase. The golden plaque sat on the door a few inches above the figure's eyes, the words brightly shown in the flickering firelight.
"The Truest Enemy Lies Within" was neatly engraved on it. A pair of sky-blue hungry eyes under short ragged raven hair stared at the figure from the plaque. A smile split her thin lips, and the figure returned the smile. Her hand came up, covering the engraved plaque as she shoved the door open. The door did not protest, swinging open and striking the wall with a thunk.
She stared through the doorway, her thin form immovable. The darkness glared back, a soft breeze shifting her worn brown traveling cloak as the thick air made a mad dash for the doorway and freedom. She stepped forward into the the door swung shut behind her and the breeze was still. There was a pause; no sound but the intruder's heartbeat. Footsteps could be heard, they echoed softly on the wall of the chamber.
"Why do you wish to join the League of Legends?" A woman's voice, soft but demanding, echoed through the black chamber.
There was a pause. The intruder stood silent, examining the question in the dark.
"I wish records of me to be made. I wish to exist as myself, not as another." The intruder replied, her voice noticeably higher in pitch then her questioner. There was another pause. The Intruder felt the ground under her feet vanish her weight suddenly supported by her waist and chest. Light flooded her eyes, she closed them to stem its flow. The sounds of a crowd, yelling in anger and despair could be heard. She opened one eye. She was in a valley, tall jagged mountains on either side of her covered in a blanket of lush green. The sun stared angrily at her from the end of the valley, casting long shadows across the earth. She turned her gaze down, buildings appeared. A small river flanking her left crossed by a wooden arc pitched. The bridge was new looking, painted white as the snow like the buildings to its right, made of stone with wooden roofs. A sharp pain snapped her back to attention, her eyes tracking a fist-sized rock clattering down the pile of wood she was atop. She remembered this, her eyes snapped to the people that surrounded her. Ionians- some sobbing, some frightened, most screaming and waving their fists in anger. She shifted her head away as another rock struck her cheek. She felt a crack, an iron taste flooding her mouth as pain shot through her jaw. She tried to move but couldn't, her aims tied at the wrists behind her back. A thick wooden beam pressed against her spine.
Her heart began to quicken as the realization of what was about to happen to her sunk in, her attention snapping back to the crowd as another rock struck her right breast. She recoiled, her binds keeping her still as pain shot up her front. She bit the inside of her lip, refusing to show any weakness as she glared at the person who had thrown the rock. She was a woman, about twenty with long black hair and a petite form, her face twisted in rage as she scooped up another rock and hurled it.
"Monster!" She shouted in Ionian, the rock meeting its mark yet again as the skin split on the bound woman's thigh.
"You took him away from me! He fought your black magic and you took him from me!" The Ionian girl advanced a step, her fingers curled, ready to claw anything in her way. The woman on the pole sighed loudly, looking at her feet. She felt horrible.
The crowd began to split. Her eyes followed the split and her gaze feel on an old man, wearing a white robe with long sleeves. He took slow, careful steps leaning on a thick wooden staff painted white, its top bent into a long elegant hook shape with a golden ring hanging from its curved tip. A box like lantern hung from the ring, silver and shining in the evening sun like a beacon. He raised the staff weakly, planting the end stiffly in the soft foot-beaten dirt, releasing a small shock wave of dust before he took each step. Heads turned as he approached, the crowd parting to allow him to the head. He halted with a slight sway. His staff seemed to be all that was holding him upright. The angry yelling seemed to float away down the river, and there was silence for a moment.
The man's lip quivered."What is your name, Demon," he spoke slowly, his voice strained and asthmatic, but soft as though speaking indoors.
She opened her mouth to speak, hacking out a few coughs. Her jaw didn't seem to want to move but she forced it.
"Fait-" she began.
"Noo!" The man shouted, his voice limping out like his walk.
"I asked for YOUR name, Demon." His lip quivered as he finished, more of his weight shifting forward onto his staff. Through the blood and the pain she felt a smile cross her lips.
"Celene," she half choked out. The man's expression didn't change, his old brown eyes looking into her pained blue ones.
His lower lip quivered and he spoke again, the tiredness in his voice audible. "Demon, do you name yourself, or was this name given to you by those cursed that bore you?" Her expression shifted slightly towards curious, her eyes shifting to the Ionian girl just a few feet from the man. she was glaring, as if trying to set the logs ablaze with her gaze. Celene scanned the crowd, their expressions were mirrored. A small sigh rose in her throat but she smothered it, her eyes settling on the village elder once again.
"It is a name I chose for myself." She paused, pushing the pain in her jaw into the abyss of her mind. "I was not born," she finished, feeling tired. The mortal body was at its limits. Pain, adrenaline and the feeling of death were taking its toll on her. Her whole body was throbbing. The blood on her skin no longer warm to the touch, the wind taking the heat away and replacing it with an almost soothing chill. The elder remained still, his face impassive. He shifted his weight back onto his feet, standing as straight as his back would allow. The action seems to pain him as his wrinkled lips pulled back in, revealing a few missing teeth. He held the staff out in front of him, towards the pyre. He looked back up at her, a hint of disgust leaking into his tired face.
He spoke. "You murdered the defender of our village. You are a monster that destroys and steals. You are past redemption. Welcome the fire, it will end your misery." The venom in his tone cutting the air like a knife, he stared at her for a moment, then lowered the staff. The lantern hit the logs with a metallic clunk, before tipping sideways, oil spilling out onto the wood and raging to life. The fire started to crackle and climb the pile of wood. There was a cheer as the elder turned his back to her and began to hobble away through the crowd. She let the sigh she had imprisoned in her throat free, not looking forward to the pain she know was coming. Not letting the panic take hold, she know she would live. But she needed to figure out what to do. She scanned the crowd. After a moment her sky-blue eyes fell on the Ionian closest to the bridge, the girl who had thrown the rocks.
Her stomach turned over. The ground seemed to fall away from her. The pain was gone, and so was the heat, the taste of blood and smell of smoke. It was cold and silent as the night. Her stomach turning again, she looked down but saw nothing but black.
The first thing Celene heard were voices, soft but rising in volume and number. As the ground pressed itself against her feet a crowded market street melted into view. She was walking as swiftly as the crowd of people would allow. She strained her neck to see over the shoulder of a broad-shouldered man who was inspecting some fish at a stand. Celene saw nothing but the maze of crowded streets working its way down towards the outer walls of the city. The city was circular and built around a large stone spire. Roads climbed their way up and around the spire, like vines climbing a tree trunk. At the top stood the wealthiest houses and government establishments, most of which proudly flew the Noxian flag. The rich or lucky had houses tucked into streets of the city below the great spire and naturally contributed to the Noxian rich market district in which Celene was now drowning. The poor, unlucky or weak all lived below ground in large slums. These slums had their own markets, schools, districts and as the spire is atop a cliff overlooking the open ocean open up to the sea, have there own ports. because of its social structure and value of strength above all else, Noxus was often derogatorily called the two-faced city-state by its enemies.
Celene wedged herself into the entrance to an alley, allowing an ox-drawn cart loaded with fish to pass by her. She ducked in behind the cart. the convoy acted like the bow of a ship parting the wealthy crowd in front of it as it made its way from the high Noxian port to whatever stall had ordered the fish. Though seeing past the cart was impossible it didn't matter. Celene was early for her "meeting", the other party not being due for nearly thirty minutes. Celene smirked.
I guess robbing that poor merchant blind did help. The expensive red and yellow silk robe see wore went a long way reducing the confused looks the Ionian got from the wealthy sea of residents, sailors and merchants. Standing behind a cart loaded with ready-to-sell fish reduced the looks to zero. She was invisible, at least until the cart stopped or ventured to far from her meeting point. Celene fell into thought, going over her plan again in her head. After studying the habits of the other party, Celene knew just where to be. The person in question seemed to eat different food then the rest of her family, avoiding the large amounts of fish in the typical Noxian's diet in favor of pork and beef from the farms outside the city walls.
Perhaps she has a fish allergy? Celene thought, a grin creeping onto her thin lips.
Due to the Noxian social mentality, she is also very picky about whom she purchases her food from, only buying from a wealthy farmer named Hamid, who owns the largest ranch within one hundred miles of Noxus. Hamid's stall is right outside the Finest of the Fleet pub a good mile from the first of the great spire's winding roads and two miles from the Noxus city walls. Catching her party in transit, either arriving or returning home, should be easy. A small doubt sprang up like a weed in a flower patch. The streets were more crowded then normal, full of sailors from the Noxian fleets regrouping after being pushed from Demacian waters. The doubt was quickly thrown to the wolves. This woman was easy to spot, even for a barely five foot Ionian in a city where six foot was the average.
The cart slowed to a halt, jarring Celene from her thoughts. She looked around, trying to regain her bearings. The cart had stopped in front of a rather expensive looking stall that sat at the point of a fork in the road. Following the roads with her eyes, she saw that they reconnected to each other after about half a mile. Celene recognized it as it was the only road land-side of the spire that rejoined. The Finest of the Fleet was on the road over on her right side about a quarter mile behind her.
I can't be getting distracted, she reminded herself, biting her lip as she forced her way through the crowd towards an alley that connected the two streets.
After a good shove or two and some racial slurs thrown her way she reached the alley and pressed on, walking quickly. Glancing about, Celene noticed the drains in the alley, light visible from within them. They dropped straight into lower Noxus- for rain, she guessed. A smirk spouted on her face at the thought of their other uses. The alleys were very devoid of human waste, even for a rich district and she hadn't seen a single peon with a broom in an alley up here since she arrived. Practical in the Noxian way, a human stepladder to glory on a massive scale. She wasn't sure whether she should be amused or disapproving of the idea. She settled on amused after a moment- after all, it's not the worst thing that's been done to people by the comrades before. She reached the end of the alley and was greeted by the roaring wave of people that filled last street. Celene grinned- success. The Finest of the Fleet was in sight. She merged with the crowd again and let the current carry her towards her goal.
Celene ducked into an alley, the pub was right across from her. A large number of sailors could be seen drinking, gambling, and watching the bar's single dancer. Celene watched for a moment through the large front window, her view interrupted by the shoulders and heads that passed by. She needed a way to see over the crowd; picking anybody out of it when she couldn't see over it would be impossible. She looked around. The alley hit a sharp turn a few feet behind her and on the wall of the curve was a gutter leading from the two-story house to her right to a grill on the ground that lead to lower Noxus. Glancing behind her to make sure there were no guards watching. Celene extended her fingers feeling her chest grow warmer as she woke her demon up, blue fishing line-thick strands extended from her finger tips. She concentrated, willing them to carefully wrap around her fingers just like she had done countless times before. They obeyed. It was times like this when she loved what she was she thought smiling as she got a running start. She hit the gutter, pushing off against the wall as the tendrils she has summoned wrapped around behind the makeshift ladder. She easily pushed herself up to the rooftop, sliding herself up onto the stone shingling. She carefully slide to the edge, being careful not to dislodge any roofing that may fall into the crowd and alert anybody. She gazed down at the sea of shoulders and heads below her. They pushed and jockeyed against each other, each trying to get ahead of the other. She smirked. It's like a visual representation of politics, she thought. She rolled onto her back away from the roof's edge. While it was true the last place anyone looks is up, someone might see her anyways and call the guards. She frowned, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. She tucked her thumb into her palm, using her four fingers to measure the sun's distance from the ocean.
Seven fingers, so it's about four, Celene thought. She's late. She turned and peered over the roofs edge, spotting Hamid's stall below her to her left. She blinked, scanning the crowd. Not spotting anything she reset her eyes on Hamid's stall. He was sitting in what looked like a hand made wooden chair, his heavy leather hat pulled over his eyes. He's expecting her, she thought, watching the man inspect his fingernails out of boredom.
"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" A yell rose above the crowd's drone. Celene's eyes snapped to its source, recognizing the deeper than normal female voice. A tall slender woman with bright crimson hair, clad in a very expensive-looking black silk dress with pointed silver objects, lined the sides of the leather belt that hung half tightened around her hips. She was screaming at a shorter stocky man holding a bucket and gesturing to her shoes and skirt. The man held his left hand in front of his face in defense.
Dressed to impress and armed to the teeth. Just what I'd expect from you, Katarina, Celene thought with a growing smirk.
"Fuck you, you useless lower-city weakling piece of shit." Her tone had lowered from a scream to a loud yell. Katarina grabbed the man's collar and threw him, lifting him off his feet and sending him into his stall in a surprising show of strength. She then planted her shoe on the small of his back and pushed, sending the man tumbling over the stall display, taking much of what he was selling along with him. The crowd had formed a ring around the enraged woman which disappeared instantly when she turned around to face them. She exhaled visibly to calm herself and half walked, half stomped towards Hamid's stall. Celene was grinning ear to ear, her chest hot as the demon danced in excitement over what what about to happen. She began to think. She knew her nature as a body snatcher. She was a being without tangible existence that instinctively forced itself into and possessed the bodies of others, leaving them ageless and immortal but trapped with no motor control, totally aware. She frowned, having reminded herself she was forced to imprison others, that the Ionian girl who owned her body was watching as she stalked. She didn't deserve what had happened to her. Celene began to frown. there was no justification for her, nor redemption the closest she could possibly get was by possessing the most corrupt or evil people, but in that presented the problem. Celene considered her options, she wanted the crimson-haired psychopath below her, but what was the best way to engage... She could just jump on her, and fully bring her real self, her demon to bare and force it into the redhead and possess her. However amusing the idea was, it was slow, loud, damaging and risked getting her killed and ruining her plans. Upon death, however, "Celene" would be returned to her base form and dart to the closest body. She had no control in that state. She frowned again at the thought. Without a body, there's none of the biological matter used to process anything such as thought or reason.
Killed, she thought. I could get her body the same way I got this one. But I need to make it look excusable. Even if I get her body, if she gets thrown in prison for killing somebody, it would be hugely inconvenient. Celene nearly slammed her head into the shingling for thinking something so stupid. I'm in Noxus, she is the daughter of a Noxian general... Celene turned her eyes back to the redheaded woman who seemed to be bartering with Hamid. Hearing them was impossible over the crowd. So, I need to be direct, but not obviously direct. It's a good thing she's so angry today. Celene smiled, feeling her chest start to heat up again. This was going to feel good, an idea spouted up in her mind.
She pulled her self away from the edge of the roof, sliding her way down the gutter as if it were a rope. She earned a very confused look from a Noxian woman walking the alley as she hit the bottom. Giving the woman a smile she pushed herself into the advancing crowd of people. Celene locked her gaze on the red headed woman as she passed the ruined stall she had created. She sighed, pushing her excitement away for the moment, wrapping her slender fingers around one of the buckets of water at the stall.
"Hey!" shouted the bloodied man behind his stall, trying to push after her but the crowd prevented him. Celene stole a glance at the bucket. It smelled like herbs. She looked behind her, seeing the man was in fact selling bath salts. The bucket must be some kind of "smell for yourself" idea. She turned her eyes forward, nearing her target. Katarina was turning from the stall, her gaze unseeingly passing right over Celene. She had a wooden box clenched in her arms and wore an expression that could only be described as murderous.
She's still pissed. Perfect. Celene's heart began to speed up, as her fight or flight began to trigger. They were within feet of each other. Katarina scanned the crowd looking for a way to merge with it and get back home. Celene's grin touched her ears. The possibilities- how ambitious she could be. This woman was one of General Du Couteau's two daughters, she was well trained in the arts of death. Arts that would carry over. No longer would Celene need to rely on just her own skills- it had been a long time sense that was the case. Angry orbs of brilliant green passed her over again. It was time.
"Excuse me, Katarina~" Celene spoke whimsically, swinging the bucket full of scented ice cold water backward. The angry orbs now snapped to Celene's blue ones. Her smile growing, she was close enough to see Katarina's brain comprehending the scene that was unfolding. A short Ionian woman, in Noxus, with blue eyes is grinning at me and about to splash me with a bucket full of ice water. The green eyes widened ever so slightly. Celene swung the bucket forward, covering the Noxian redhead from head to toe. People in the crowd gasped and backed up. For a second, the whole world seemed silent. Katarina stood, arms held up in front of herself defensively, the wooden box shattered at her feet. Celene wasn't done, she brought the bucket behind herself, setting up for a wide swing.
Use those killers instincts, you bitch, get right inside my guard, Celene screamed in her head, her demon screaming to life.
Katarina failed to realize what was happening in time, the wooden bucket struck her square in the side of the head. She half spun, her hand shooting to the ear that had been struck. She let out a yelp, stumbling a few steps before regaining her footing, swinging her eyes to meet her attackers. Celene stood, bucket in her right hand, with an ear to ear grin plastered on her face. The crowd had backed up forming a circle like before. The two women stared at each other as Katarina regained her ability to think properly. Then with an animalistic snarl she lunged, hands sliding to the neat line of throwing knives in her belt. Celene released the empty bucket from her hand, not waiting for it to start falling, her feet falling into stance, her body preparing instinctively for the incoming attack. She felt her chest burn like a wildfire, felt the tendrils erupt from her fingers. Katarina was now fully airborne. Her eyes widened as she saw the sudden change- this Ionian was dangerous. Cool thought returned, turning her rage to fuel for the coming fight. She had to adapt. Katarina twisted mid flight, pulling the first dagger from her belt and flicking it towards her now rather alien attacker with her wrist.
Celene noted the twist. Katarina was trying to get enough centrifugal force going for a good throw. She would have to move. Up would be best, Katarina's first reaction would be to pan around looking for me should I disappear. Celene focused, the tendrils at her fingertips peeled back along her flesh, and she began to vanish, staring at her fingers before she fully dematerialized, only to reappear about ten feet above where she had started.
The knife was on target. Katarina felt a grin coming as it was heading straight for her attackers throat. the dagger sailed through into the crowd behind. There was a scream as her attacker disappeared in a flash of blue light leaving only glowing blue fibers drifting to the ground where she had been.
Katarina was now very surprised.
"What the fu-" Something hard connected with the top of her head causing it to snap downward. A glance upward through a wall of red hair revealed it to be a heel kick. Katarina felt her eye twitch. She drew a deep breath, focusing her eyes on where her enemy was and disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke with a loud puff. She was behind her attacker now, arm already swinging downward with the second knife on her belt in hand.
Celene turned her head following the faint trail of smoke left by the shunpo. She cursed her reflexes as her head turned to meet an enraged-looking, knife-wielding Katarina. The knife struck home, embedding itself in Celene's right shoulder. Though it wasn't deep enough to cause any real damage, the force of the blow and the shock caused her to stumble. Katarina was ready, expecting another teleport any second. She landed neatly, swinging her foot between Celene's. Just as expected, there it was a flash of blue and she was gone before hitting the ground. Without even bothering to scan Katarina recycled the energy from her sweep and began to spin, her hands going for her belt. Celene reappeared behind the assassin at the edge of the ring created by the now panicking crowd. She locked eyes on her target. She was angry.
Fuck it, if she kills me I get her, if I win I get her. No more games. Celene bit her lip as she finished materializing. Her shoulder hurt. The knife had been pulled out, allowing the wound to gush blood. Katarina took the second step towards her spin, spotting her target. She allowed herself to sink into a state of hyper focus. Tucking a knife between each of her fingers, the death lotus was in full swing. She extended her arms and began to release, one knife at a time. Celene saw her chance. She had an advantage in mobility. It seemed as though Katarina needs time to set up a teleport, whereas she did not. Celene saw Katarina's eyes lock onto her and follow as much as her spinning form would allow. Her thumb and index finger released pressure on the throwing knife and with a snap of her wrist it flew out of her hand. Celene didn't waste time, vanishing again. She appeared off to Katarina's right and was instantly reacquired. Another flick of the wrist, and Celene was gone again. She needed some breathing room. She needed to interrupt Katarina.
With a pulse of blue light, she reappeared right in front of the assassin. Crouched down, the Ionian attempted to kick the assassin's knee in. Katarina had remarkably fast reflexes. She switched feet mid-spin, tucking her arms closer to her body to get them inside her attacker's guard. Celene spotted the large movement and thrust her arms up, colliding with the assassin's. Katarina felt her balance disrupted beyond correction. She began to stumble. Celene extended the tendrils from her finger tips managing to wrap one around the assassin's ankle. Kataina had managed to turn the momentum from her failed death lotus into a clumsy backflip. She was in the air again, but her enemy was off balance and exposed. She decided to all-in, swinging her arms with knives in hand up towards her shoulders. She spied her target and flicked her wrists, spreading her fingers. Celene was waiting for it and disappeared. She reappeared barely three feet from she had been standing. The knives flew into the now running crowd. Celene had Katarina just where she wanted her. She willed the tendril around her ankle to move, and it obeyed. Katarina yelped in surprise as her foot was ripped from under her, airborne once again. Celene orbited her around her head once before releasing, sending the assassin right though the front window of Finest of the Fleet.
And just like that it was over. Assassins weren't meant to take hits. Celene stood in the middle of the street, bleeding, tendrils hanging from her fingertips blowing limply in the breeze, uncommanded but ready. The whole fight had lasted maybe ten seconds. She squinted into the window though the dust and spotted the assassin. She had tumbled over the counter and lay limp against the rear wall. Celene watched her cautiously as she stepped through the broken window. Glass cracked under her feet. The assassin was still but her chest rose then fell slowly. Celene could hear shouting outside- the guards had been alerted. The plan suddenly felt foolish. She realized that even if she possessed Katarina right now, the guards would arrive before she was finished. Celene sighed, looking at the bleeding hole in her shoulder. The pain was worsening as the adrenaline left her. She had to leave and give up on the assassin. Attempting to fight the whole city-state of Noxus was a bad idea. She was wounded and Katarina was wounded even worse, so possession would do nothing to solve the problem. Celene felt the anger raising. as she reached the out-cold red head. she knelt down, pulling the last dagger from Katarina's belt. The knife sliced her finger.
Fiddly little bastard, you need to be a fucking master assassin to even hold one, I guess. She snorted to herself at the thought, trapping the blade between her fingers.
"STOP, SURRENDER INVADER!" Celene glanced over her shoulder, a lone guard had arrived. He pointed his pike at her. He visibly tensed at the sight of Noxus's best assassin out cold and bleeding.
"Fuck off, I'm busy," Celene said turning back to Katarina. The guard seemed to freeze up, unsure what he was dealing with.
"Seems a bit unfair that I get this nice unique scar and you get nothing, huh, Kitty," Celene mused. She was angry. angrier then she had been in long time. Angry at her plan for failing. Angry at her self for being stupid. Angry at Katarina for being to weak to kill her. Angry at the guard that imposed a time limit on her work. Angry at everything. The rage transformed itself into sadism as Celene furled her brow and drew the knife neatly down across Katarina's forehead to her left check. Her eyelids twitched as the blade split her skin. She was waking up. Celene pressed the blade into Katarina's palm and forced her fingers to close around it. She looked the assassin over quickly, noting the stream of blood flowing down the left side of her face.
"Now you're unique. Just like me." Celene glanced over her shoulder again. the guard was advancing his pike pointed at her heart. He was stiff, his knuckles white around the shaft of his weapon. She sighed and disappeared in a flash of blue. Reappearing on the roof where she had first spotted the assassin, Celene relaxed her muscles and stretched. Her chest was cooling down. She groaned as her back popped, eyeing the gutter. Without a thought in her head, she slid down it and walked to the next street over. The noise of the crowd had drowned out any sound of short encounter she and the redhead had. Silently merging with the crowd, she covered her shoulder and made her way to the city gate.
The ground fell away, her shoulder chilled and no longer stung. She was floating in black. Silent, weightless black.
The pain slammed into her chest, a puncturing hot pain. She blinked. It was dark. She could hear the rustling of tree branches in the wind all around her. The ground was cold and bare, as if trodden. Something wasn't right. She moved her hands to the source of the pain, they met something long and wooden. She gripped the shaft of a spear. If she pulled, she could just bleed to death- it could be barbed. Its unwieldiness made moving with it impossible. She heard the heavy thunk of boots against dirt to her right. She turned her head toward the sound, a figure stood against the trees. He was heavily built, standing triumphantly, wearing heavy leather armor, a brown cloth cloak around his shoulders and a large brimmed hat atop his short haired head. In his left hand he held a second spear, shorter then those used for combat, the point silver, the engraving shining in the moonlight, one side of the tip of lengthened and barbed inward towards the shaft. In his left hand he held a pole the length of his arm with a leather loop at the end, used for throwing the spears. He took a step towards her, his footsteps sounding as though he was walking away from her. She could see him advancing. Her vision was blurring, the color bleeding away. She was losing blood, a lot of blood. It felt strange, like a dream- she felt like she had no control and was being made to sit and watch the events unfold.
The man spoke, his voice like gravel under foot. "Gotcha, didn't I, you damn monster." It sounded muffled, as if she was listening to him talk past a closed door. She could feel the blackout coming on, she could feel death coming. She would die and be reduced to her instinctive state soon. There was a weight on her chest, the man was on top of her, pressing his heavy boot between her breasts. Celene barely made out a grin past his hat as he grabbed the shaft of the spear and pulled. Her hands shot to it in pain but he overpowered her. The spear was ripped from her, pulling insides with it as the barbed tip came free. She tried to scream, but no sound came.
"See, without all that fancy jumpin' around you're nothin' but soft. You think somethin' pathetic and weak like you'll beat me?" The man leaned in and smirked she stared blurry eyes back at him, no strength left to move. A dream, she thought, she began to feel numb, but her head felt remarkably clear. Death was a dull feeling, like being on the edge of sleep. It didn't feel right, the setting wasn't right. A smile crossed her lips.
"That's a neat trick, Summoner," she said with surprising ease. All at once, the world seemed to fall away, she felt her weight rest on her feet. The thickness in the air returned as the pain in her chest drifted away. She was standing alone, in a stone chamber, too dark to see more than a few feet. Celene curled and uncurled her fingers, testing for another illusion. There was none, she was in control. There was a pause, only silence and dust in the air.
A woman's voice from the darkness echoed on the walls. "Why do you wish to join the League of Legends?" Celene paused, turning the question over in her mind again.
"To break the cycle. To have a temporary respite from my normality, to feel different than I normally feel," Celene said, the smile creeping back onto her lips. Her eyes fixed on the source of the voice she couldn't see in the dark.
"How does it feel having your mind exposed?"
Celene didn't even have to think about that question, the answer presented itself on her lips.
"Exciting."
"Welcome to the League of Legends, Celene." she spoke stoically. A light appeared in front of her, a door had opened. Beyond it, she made out a hall with robed figures walking about. Some of the figures stopped and stared at her through the doors. Most of the faces were young, in their late teens or early twenties. The smile on her lips turned to a grin as she stepped through the door into the hall.
The crowd of summoners was growing slowly, whispering amongst themselves. More men, some women, and even a yordle or two, from every city-state. They parted, as a man a head taller then them and two taller then her made his way to the front. The man was old, in his seventies at least, with a whispy white beard, and liver-spotted pale skin, his robes a soft gray as opposed to the purple and blue of the others. He stopped in front of Celene, looking down at her with a ponderous look across his face.
"Champion Celene, I am Elder Summoner Marten." He paused, drawing a breath. "I have been tasked with familiarizing you with our institute as well as the rules of conduct you must follow as part of the League of Legends." The crowd was shrinking, a few mutterings of her name could be heard on the still air. Marten's stoic face cracked and split into a wide, friendly smile, he knelt down so he was eye level with Celene. She felt a pang of annoyance as his eyes leveled with hers, making her feel like a child.
"Well, now that the formalities are out of the way," he beamed, putting her at ease. "Follow me, if you would, and please ask any questions you may have." She suppressed a small laugh, something about cheerful old men. He straightened up and turned, shooing away the remaining crowd with a few sweeps of his hand. He took a step- his walk was surprisingly fast for his age. She had to work beyond her comfortable pace to match him. Marten took notice and slowed his steps. She thought, examining the hall as they strode down it. The hall was large, with arches on the ceiling similar to those she had seen in some churches, supported by thick stone pillars and draped with flags. The walls were lined with wooden doors, some larger then others and more magical touches, filling the hall with a soft blue light. At the end was another large staircase. A row of tall double doors lined the top of the stairs. On all but one hung a flag of a city-state. Demacia's door lay in the middle. She snorted, pondering the politics that resulted from its placement. Celene looked up at the summoner next to her, but his hood made seeing his face impossible.
"Where exactly are we going?" The question seemed to ring in the hall as they reached the foot of the steps. Marten halted.
"Exactly..." He smiled, examining her again. "Well, first we are going to the dining hall, I'm hungry, and you need to see it anyways." He drew a breath. She felt her eyebrow raise very slightly.
"Then I will show you to your room, you are not aligned with a political power, yes?" Well, that explains what the flag hanging doors are for. She thought as she opened her mouth to answer.
"No, I am not." He nodded slowly as he placed his foot on the first stair and began to carry himself up. She found her self slowing down for him now, his face stiffened.
"Well, after that, tomorrow you will be summoned for a test match, so we can make any accommodations you may need, then again for a practice match after that. The practice match is to teach you how a match on the Field of Justice works," he finished as they reached the top of the stairs. He pointed to an ajar door at least twice her height and wide enough for a small phalanx of solders to march through. From the doorway floated the smell of cooking meat and bread, as well as a large number of spices. Celene felt her stomach growl and briefly considered punching herself in the gut to silence it. Marten hurried through the door, Celene in tow.
Celene's jaw nearly dropped as she scanned the room. It was large enough to fit hundreds of people. The far wall was lined with vendors giving out food from all around Runeterra, but it wasn't the scale that surprised her it was the rooms contents. On the far right sat a large minotaur, towering over the table in front of him, on which roughly forty pounds of food sat on platters. To the bull's right sat a woman, clad in a purple dress that reached the middle of her thighs and a tall purple hat. The two conversed, the bull gesturing with his hands as he spoke animatedly.
She panned her head around the room a second time, examining everything. to her right between her and the bull sat two men and a woman, all in Demacian battle armour. The largest man was facing her, eyeing her and the elder summoner suspiciously. He had short dirty-blond hair, thick straight eyebrows, and a square jaw. The other man had long hair in a ponytail and his shoulder pads were straight and ridged instead of the rounded ones that adorned his partner. The woman had her back to Celene. She was much more lightly armored and with shoulder-length yellow hair. She seemed to shine unnaturally in the torchlight. Probably a mage, Celene thought, continuing her scan of the hall. In the center of the hall was a large crystal sphere that hung from the ceiling, about nine feet across, giving off a dull magical glow. Underneath it sat a young woman in a seafoam dress with long flowing hair split into to ponytails that fell across her shoulders into shades of yellow. Celene recognized the woman as Sona, a talented musician she had seen in a theater a few years ago. A yell carried itself across the hall, causing a pause in the chatter.
"Hey, newbie!" The yell came from a shirtless man clad only in boots, greaves, a single shoulder pad, and a silver crown. To his left was a white-haired woman with her face buried in a book. Celene felt a pang of annoyance as the attention of the entire hall shifted to her and the elder summoner.
"I'll see you on the fields tomorrow, newbie, then you can see a real warrior." his words slurred slightly. He's likely drunk, she thought, as he sat laughing at his own joke. Her eyes wondered away from him to a white-haired woman sitting alone in the far right corner. She was dressed very similar to Celene. Aside from the few pieces of Noxian battle armor on her person, there was a what resembled a large sword on the table in front of her next to her food, ragged at the end as if broken. The two women meet eyes. Celene noted the woman's eyes were a vivid amber, her face was ponderous as she turned back to her food. Celene's eyes followed the woman's gaze to her food, a prick of surprise as she realized the food she was eating was an Ionian dessert.
"Well, shall we?" Marten asked. He didn't wait for her to answer, hurrying off towards the vendor with the meat. Celene sighed and followed. Her course took her under the large sphere and past a table of ninjas, all of which eyed her curiously. Ignoring them, she gathered a plate of beef and some nuts. Moving to the next vendor, she stared at the sweets and gave into her sweet tooth.
"This hall is surprisingly empty," she said, setting her plate down next to Marten, who was wolfing down his food already. He paused to swallow.
"It was built with expansion in mind. Only stable champions and experienced summoners may eat here, but it's still mostly empty." He speared a green bean with his fork.
"Stable champions?" she questioned, pausing and raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, some of our champions are imprisoned here because they're a danger to the villages and city-states of Runeterra."
"And you use them in your matches, just like those that come in and volunteer. Very utilitarian of you summoners," she almost teased, the tone geared at getting a reaction. Marten glanced at her and smiled.
"Might as well," he smirked, shoving the impaled bean into his mouth. The two ate in silence. Celene was content to watch the other champions come and go. Some, like the bull, returned to the vendors numerous times. Others like the amber-eyed woman left after their first plate. This woman intrigued Celene. She had a very intense gaze, but seemed to be extremely shy. The two traits didn't fit. What was the reason for this, Celene wondered. She watched her as she lifted her broken sword and left. The sword looked extremely heavy, but the woman carried it with ease. She seemed to lack a sheath for the odd weapon, understandably so, as she simply held it as she left the hall.
"Who is she?" Celene asked, her eyes turning to Marten.
"Who?"
"The champion that just left, the woman with the white hair and amber eyes." Celene turned her eyes back to the door, having cleaned her plate.
"Oh, that's Riven, the Exile. She's been here a while. Very complicated woman. She stood in the middle of the Noxian chemical attacks against Ionia. Probably the the reason for her white hair at such a young age. Well, from her reflection afterwards, she was appalled at the bloodshed so she broke her sword and defected from Noxus," he finished. Celene nodded in comprehension. A smile spouted on her lips as she looked towards the door the exile had left from.
"A Noxian solder with a heart. I'm guessing she's attempting prove something. Someone with her past probably wouldn't want to fight," Celene said, getting to feet, seeing Marten finish the last of his food.
"She doesn't want to, she's trying to reform the Noxian ideal," he said, getting to his feet. Celene raised an eyebrow.
"How, exactly?" They moved towards the exit.
"Ugh, my old mind hinders me, I don't fully remember. You could always ask her." Marten said. Celene nodded, happy with his answer.
I've been here an hour or so, and already so many interesting people. The thought put a smile on her face. This was exciting, and this wasn't the best part yet. She sped up her pace, Marten was beginning to outrun her. Celene passed the Demacian mage as she returned to her table. The mage was young, probably not out of her teens. She had brilliant blue eyes, unnaturally brilliant, likely linked to her magical field in some way. She wore a wide smile. The two exchanged looks. The mage opened her mouth to speak, revealing brilliant white teeth.
"Luxanna, we're leaving, we need to prepare for tomorrow," came a deep, overly noble voice from her table. The mage's smile faded slightly, her eyes flicking to the table, then back to Celene. The mage gave a tiny hurried bow, turned and half ran back to her table.
Ohhhh, Celene thought, her smile broadening as she turned over the event in her head.
Soooo many interesting people. She turned. Marten was waiting for her to catch up by the door. She didn't bother speeding her pace, as she would reach him before either of them fell over dead. Besides, he seemed excited to be showing her around anyways. Perhaps the Elder was procrastinating. As she reached him, Marten gave her a smile and turned to leave, signaling her to follow.
"Marten, is anything important happening tomorrow, besides my matches?" she asked. She was snooping, she knew, but snooping wasn't something that she was forbidden from doing morally. Marten gave a small chuckle.
"Probably not anything related to you," he said, teasing her, not giving her the information he knew she wanted. He sighed, his tone turning slightly more serious.
"Well, tomorrow, some of the Crownguard family are coming. They say it's to see how the League of Legends is representing Demacia." Celene cocked an eyebrow.
"But, the League of Legends is neutral, from what I've read about it. It doesn't represent Demacia," Celene pointed out, confused. Marten glanced at her, pushing the door to neutral champion living quarters open. He paused it, half open.
"We don't, but the Demacian champions do. The Crownguards' visit is likely to see how their kin have been performing. the reason could be worry disguised as business. They will likely want to see them perform when they arrive, which is a logistical nightmare for me." Marten groaned out of half dread.
"Heh," Celene said, putting two and two together. "I guess I know who my opponent is tomorrow," she stated, shifting her eyes to the pair of Demacian champions leaving the hall.
"Opponent?" Marten said, smiling. "I never said anything about an opponent."
"True, but you did say the league needed to gauge my abilities. How is that going to happen without someone to pit my abilities against?" Celene pointed out, watching the Demacian mage tail behind the soldier. Both noticed her eyes on them. The soldier straightened up, his eyes turning forward into a solid stare. The mage "Luxanna" put an even wider smile on. The two examined each other as she passed. Marten's voice tore Celene from the mage and back to the progressing verbal duel.
"You're a smart girl. I saw your reflection. When was the last time someone told you that you're smart?" He was smiling widely at her. Celene felt a pang of annoyance at the compliment, the seeming congratulations at the duel's victory seemed condescending. She ignored it, deciding to take it, as the man clearly meant no harm.
"You know Marten, I'm a lot older then you. Don't you think it's unfair to treat me like a child?" She jabbed at him jokingly. He laughed, gripping his stomach.
"I don't know about that, young lady, I'm pretty damn old," he jabbed back, stepping through the door. The hall behind was lined with doors, each with a plaque of silver. She glanced at the first to her right- "Jax, The Grandmaster at Arms".
"It doesn't matter which room you pick, so I would pick the closest one to the rest of the League you can." Marten stated.
"So, like that one?" Celene pointed to a door with a blank plaque.
"That's not the closest." Marten raised an eyebrow, pointing to the door next to Jax's room. Celene twisted the knob on the door she had pointed at, defiantly giving Marten a smirk as it opened.
"Whatever," he said, returning the smirk. "I need to take the plaque though, to get your name and title etched onto it."
"What's my title?" Celene asked, noting he had not said a single word about it, but all the champions seemed to have one.
"I haven't decided that yet," he said, his smirk now larger then her's.
Fuck, she thought. Maybe I should have let him win. She groaned in defeat as Marten removed the plaque from the door and tucked it under his arm. He began to leave.
"You can manage without me, the keys are on the table. Don't get lost looking around," he said with his back to her, waving with his free hand. She turned to the door next to hers. The plaque was blank. She panned her head to her other neighbor. Blank as well. She took a closer look. Thin scratches horizontally lined the plaque. Celene scanned the hallway. It was devoid of life. She reached up to the plaque and slide it out of place. It caught on the grain of the wood behind it. She wiggled it free and flipped it, examining the back. "Riven the Exile." She whistled a single note softly to herself. Intrigued, she decided to test Riven, flipping the plaque upside down then replacing it backwards on the door, the name once again hidden.
Celene pushed her own door open again, entering her new home. She pushed the door shut with her foot and scanned her new home. It was large enough to comfortably house a few people. It was bare aside from a bed, a bookshelf which was empty, and a cupboard for clothing she guessed. The room was lit by a small hextech orb hanging from the ceiling rather then the blue magically torches she had seen before. The room sported a small kitchen, after some inspection, she found the sink had running water. Something only royalty had access to. There was a small bathroom again with running water and a closet. It was an interesting combination of royal treatment and compact like a one room castle.
Celene decided the bed was worth a trying out. The traveling to the institute had made her very tired. Maybe a nap, she thought, beginning to undo the buckles on her worn traveling outfit. Come to think of it, this was the only clothing she actually owned. The League provided champions with an allowance, however, so if she felt the need for more clothing, she could buy it. The League's presence had caused a small town to spring up around it to support its trade and such. It started of just selling to the champions of the League and offering transportation. Over the nearly three years the League of Legends has been around, since its formation, the city had grown in size. It was still without a name, simply being referred to as the Institute of War in conversation. She shed the last of her clothing and threw herself onto the bed. She had never touched anything softer in her life. The world started to fade away and she fell asleep within minutes.
Authors notes: This is the first fan fiction I've ever written. The idea has been floating around for some time now but only a few month ago while I was lacking internet did I actually work up the courage to finally write it. I don't claim to be a talented writer. Add a nasty case of dyslexia on top of that and you get what is likely a murder of the English language. Any reviews with advice would be nice but as for advancing the plot... I hate dead fanfics so if you like this I have good news. I already finished it before even bothering to upload. If you have any recommendations about ANYTHING please tell me. I'm going to do my best to put chapters up regularly once a week, maybe more. It really depends on my editor. I will try to reply to reviews in future authors notes within reason. I would really prefer not to get flamed so if your what ever reason you didn't like and don't have anything constructive to offer please keep it to yourself. Thank you for all your time, I hope you enjoy it.