*** A/N: So one of the most common responses I got on 'Corrupted Garden' was that people loved the idea of finding out more about the origin of their favorite skins. It's definitely one of my most favorite stories(Goodnight Feels notwithstanding), and since Riot does not do these things, I figured little drabbles about skins would be a great way to keep activity up in between requests. Speaking of which, I'm totally caught up on them, so please send more, particularly if it's one I've done before- that way I can tell what your favorites are.
Though as an aside, I'm unfortunately not taking requests for this series atm. I hate a lot more skins than I like, so I'd like to at least get my favorites out of the way before I open it up to the stupid skins( read: Swamp Master Kennen). Anywho, please click that button at the bottom when you finish! I'd like to know how much you guys enjoy this, and the best way to do that is that button. Or you could send me cake. I'm not a picky person.***
It was the coldest night Ionia had ever seen when the carriage pulled along the dirt road. Sitting comfortably in the center was Lord Voxler, easily one of the city-state's most despised nobles. For some people, it was the open distaste he showed for anyone he thought below him- in other words, everyone. For others, it was the fact that not an ounce of his gold went towards the Ionian economy, importing everything he purchased. But for all, it was the loud whispers that he was actively trying to start another war between Ionia and Noxus. In general, people wished death upon him.
The interesting thing about wishes is that you're never prepared for them to come true.
Behind the reins of the carriage was Voxler's assistant- 'Slave' would be a bit more prudent, but no one dared used the word within hearing distance of him- Daven, along with the maid, Risa, sitting alongside him. "Is there a particular reason we don't use the public roads?" She asked, ducking under a low-hanging branch.
"You weren't here for it, but we tried it. Once." He explained. "By the time we arrived, the carriage was covered in debris."
"Debris?"
"You don't want to know."
It didn't need to be said; their employer was scum, and they were scum by association. Underpaid scum, but scum nonetheless. While the silence began to speak for them, a noise from the branches pulled them back to reality. "Did you hear that?" Risa asked, scanning them fearfully. They seemed to hang ominously overhead, waiting to pull them to their doom. "Just bats, maybe," Daven murmured, but the weakness in his voice betrayed his demeanor. "Not afraid of bats, are you Ris'?" When she didn't answer, he turned to face her. "Ris'?"
When he saw what remained of Risa, he opened his mouth to scream. The only sound that could be heard was the swish of the branches in the wind.
***
When Voxler's carriage came to a halt, he had planned his tirade long before his hand gripped the door handle. It would be glorious; acknowledging their idiocy, insinuating an incestuous nature between their parents, threats of castration. But when he opened the door and heard no shuddering, no fear, no instant apologies like he was accustomed to- that offended him profusely. "I don't pay you nothing for you to do nothing!" He yelled, but when he received no reply, he continued, "And where are your manners? Are you even planning to explain-"
For the first time in his life, Lord Voxler was rendered silent.
Sitting in the front of the carriage were Daven and Risa, but not the way he remembered. Risa's head lolled to the side, eyes vacant. In the back of her neck was a small line, barely an inch in diameter, but the slimmest trickle of blood ran form it, dipping into her blouse. Daven, if he could even be recognized, sat next to her. He had been cut as well, but much more seriously; seriously enough that his head had been rended from his shoulders. There were few people in all of Ionia with a blade that could make such a precise cut. He turned to run, the noble's vulnerability finally catching up with him, when a sharp pain exploded under his left breastbone.
As Voxler felt his grasp on life begin to slip away, he locked eyes with his assailant. It was not her hair, nor her eyes, but her soul…there was no mistaking it. "Lady…Irelia?" The woman was silent for several seconds. Instead of responding, she raised a hand to his chest, feeling the heartbeat within him slow to a crawl. "Karma catches up to all of us…Betrayer."
Instead of begging forgiveness for his sins, Voxler's lips pulled upwards, a trickle of blood running down his lips. "When Noxus finally invades, when they ransack our ships with the knowledge of our fleet movements, and when they march on the Elders and send you screaming into the abyss, I'll be laughing from the best seat in Hell."
Before she would give into her anger, Irelia leaned forward, until her lips were inches from Voxler's ear. "Rest in peace…" Abruptly, she shoved the hidden blade up to her wrist into Voxler's heart, causing him to spit a mouthful of blood over her shoulder. "…you traitorous son of a bitch." Holding him close for several seconds, she felt the corrupted noble's heart slow to a crawl. She had been taught to honor the dead even as she took life from them, but this disgusting man had nearly caused an invasion none of Ionia would have been prepared for, so she pulled the blade from his chest as roughly as she could, not revealing a ghost of an emotion as his lifeless eyes hit the ground.
Before his illustrious robe touched the dirt, she was already among the trees.
***
Ireelia was maybe half a mile from her house when the nausea caught up with her.
Abruptly she fell to her knees, just barely pulling the mask below her chin before vomiting under the cover of the forest. When her body was no longer racked with convulsions, Irelia pulled herself to a nearby tree, heart beating rapidly in her chest. Pulling her shaky hands to her face, she extended the hidden blades, watching them shine darkly in the moonlight. Not even her brother Zelos was aware of the secret training Irelia had been given by their father, and with good reason; there was a certain dishonorable power these blades held- it was one thing to take life in the name of your country. As a soldier, you know that one life could mean the lives of everyone you've ever loved, so you do what must be done. But this…
Finally feeling the chill, Irelia shuddered. She could wear the snow-white wig, she could press the violet contacts into her eyes, but she was still Irelia at heart. Even Voxler had been able to make her out. Sheathing the blades in her wrist, she made two fists, and pulled them close to her chest. There would be more Voxlers. There would be more Darkwills. And they would think themselves beyond Ionian judgement. But when no political agreement can be made, when her homeland was threatened, and, well, if you can find her, there would always be this woman- this Nightblade- to right the wrongs and silence the sins of those who would do Ionia harm.
The chill was still present when she pulled herself to her feet, but when your will burned brighter than the sun, the cold meant nothing to you.
***
Your Lord Voxler has been dispatched. Before he was returned to the Gods for judgment, he revealed to me he shared the movements of the Ionian Navy with the Noxus regime. I recommend you call home your fleets and re-organize their movements with all due haste. You may doubt my methods, but my heart is pure. Ionia is better with one less betrayer in the world. In my world, nothing is forbidden. The Nightblade sends you her regards.
Irelia nodded, concern in her sleepy eyes. "I'm more concerned about the news Voxler is a traitor. I will pull back our Navy immediately." Almost absentmindedly, she murmured. "No one will probably miss him, anyway."
Karma turned from her window, eying Irelia with the bare minimum of suspicion. "Irelia, did you sleep well last night?"
She shook her head. "I just had a bad night is all."
Checking that her door was closed, Karma moved next to her, kneeling by her side. "I will handle this. You should go home and rest."
"Really, Karma, I'm fine." Abruptly, Irelia stood from the chair, turning towards the door. "I'm going to go re-draw our fleet movements and leave you to your investigation." She made for the door with all haste, only for Karma to call out to her as her fingers brushed the doorknob.
Without asking, Irelia found herself pulled into Karma's arms. It was rather sudden, but also not unwarranted. "I will do my best to find this woman," She murmured into Irelia's hair. "But I don't want to have to worry about you as well. After you deal with the fleet, go home and sleep."
"Is that an order?" Irelia asked.
"Without a doubt."
***
As soon as the door closed, Karma frowned, staring at her fingers. Between her thumb and index was a single strand of white hair.