A/N: This fic follows Riven's lore but it'll have my little twists to it. The story happens after Riven's last mission for Noxus. After the chemical gas kills the army she led, she now wanders Ionia without direction.

Italics are the character's thoughts. The line breaks in this story indicate a change in POV.

Below is a link to a crudely drawn layout of Irelia's house that I made in case my description wasn't clear enough. Fair warning, I was not made for interior design or for art in general but I tried.


She was never a stranger to war. She had grown up with it, had seen people die on the streets; whether it was out of poverty or wounds from battle. The latter was usually preferred.

But this time it was different.

The effects of the gas were long gone now. The effects of war faded behind with each step, but the faces of the dead continued to haunt her.

She remembered her brothers and sisters in arms, her family. At least when the gas still fogged her mind, she could blurr their bravery before battle. She could blurr the courage as they strided towards a vain death.

But here, with the fog of war gone, only she is left once more. No matter how much memories are repressed, their melting faces never leave her mind.

Gas seeping into flesh and bone until it liquified everything and everyone.

Her mind wouldn't stop running in circles. Why did she have to survive? Why did her blade have to shield her from the gas?

Even when she tried to shield her family it was too late. By then, the toxic fumes had already dissolved flesh. In mere moments, despite the protection of her shield, she saw life fade in a matter of seconds.

It would have been better if she just died in combat. That way she could atone in some way, she could atone for the lives she had taken. But now she had to suffer and live.

Even if she didn't feel anything, it didn't change the fact that she was alone once more. Alone and responsible for the death of her loved ones.

She didn't even know how to fix things. How to even fix herself when her mind was her worst enemy.

It had been simple in the past. It was simple to believe in the illusion that she had finally found family, that they were fighting for a shared goal. A goal that could lead people to unity under Noxus.

But she was wrong.

It wasn't about the glory or unity. It was about power.

Noxus was vast yet there was always a desire for more. There was only one way to attain everything. It was a message that was drilled even into even the orphans; amass as much power until only none could oppose Noxus. It didn't matter how they could achieve this so long as they could conquer all who defied them.

Those who couldn't follow that rule would die. Or wallow away in poverty.

And the first of many steps for more power was Ionia. Ionia itself lacked any military, their government was decentralized. Instead the Ionians believed in peace and the flow of magic in everything. Of course, Noxus would prey after them. By Noxian standards, Ionia was weak.

She never knew where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to escape. With each step, she left the battlefield further and further away. Yet no matter how far she walked, her memories would always resurface. Even now, in a place surrounded by life and dense forests.

It had been 3 days since the incident and now she treaded through a forest that was light with the scent of pine and air. But despite the scent, she couldn't help but remember the scent of rotting flesh mixed with the foreign smell of chemicals.

The sun was high and bright, a sign of a new day. But instead all she can remember is a cold afternoon, clouded and raining. She could almost hear the squeak of the wheels on the caravan as it groaned with the weight of its deadly cargo. She could almost feel the footsteps of her fellow soldiers, the casual back and forth of conversation as they unknowingly marched towards their death… For Noxus.

Soon, the battlefield would be fogged with Zaunite chemicals... And all it took was one stray arrow.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply; silently trying to will away her memories.

Even when the battle was over, she was sickened. It wasn't just how white hair matted to her forehead; she was disgusted with her naivety. She was disgusted by the people she trusted.

Her legs felt heavy as she continued to trudge through the forest, dried sweat and blood made her clothes cling uncomfortably.

Exhaustion now seeped into her bones while the burn of hunger ached low in her gut. Her head pounded; the dizziness was a welcome interruption from her thoughts. It was ironic how suffering became the only distraction where she was free from her broken mind.

She stumbled once more and lost her balance, this time over a small root that jutted out of the ground.

Her body thumped almost lifelessly against the soft earth as she landed on her side. Pain wracked against her side and only now did she notice warm blood seeping out of her.

For a moment she laid on the ground, russet eyes met the sky as she laid on the verge of death. Just beside her rested that same sword, the weapon that saved her. A tool of war which saw the change from orphan to soldier.

This is it. This is where I die. And yet Riven can't bring herself to care anymore. The pain didn't even register anymore, she was numb yet peaceful.

To an untrained person, they wouldn't have heard the soft footfall against the ground. Those footsteps were light, so light it barely registered for Riven until she saw an intricate leather boot guarded with sharp twisting metal.

Her gaze followed up the boot, past red skin-tight fabric only to meet almond blue eyes.


The Noxian lay dying at her feet. A part of Irelia just wanted to finish the job, this was just another person she would slaughter for spilling the blood of her people.

Their eyes met but that gaze held none of the usual Noxian defiance.

Instead those eyes were rusted and empty. The person in front of her was but a ghost in a shell.

The woman was young but Irelia was not surprised. War striked the young and it molded those who survived it into something else. It molded people into something they never thought of, changing people into creatures they never wanted to be.

"Just do it." The Noxian said, her voice hollow of any emotion, lacking any fear of death.

Ready to accept death.

It would be easy. With a flick of the wrist, her blades would cut through skin and bone. There would be no pain, she'd make sure of it.

Her hand lifted and the blades followed, mimicking the movement of her soul.

The stranger lay waiting but there was no blood lust, instead she merely collapsed. Her head lolled to the side, whether it was from exhaustion or whether hunger finally took its toll.

Irelia's blade froze, one inch away from the jugular of the woman's throat.

A part of her just wanted to kill, yet she knew that it would do no good. There was a craving, maybe a foolish craving in her soul that long for balance… and how would violence solve that?

Irelia could have left her there, but she knew it wasn't right. Deep inside, she was still Ionian. She strove for balance and peace. More blood shed would not accomplish that.

Her instincts screamed at her. Just leave her to die. But she couldn't.

A dark part of her, one that simply accepted the act of war, wouldn't feel guilt.

Instead Irelia hefted the woman gently in her arms and started the treck back . The woman in her arms was well-muscled and heavy that Irelia's arms dully ached as she neared the house.

Her home was modest, the one place she could escape. The limbs of a massive birch trees weaved in and out, forming the foundation and walls of the house. Inside, it was almost empty save for the essentials.

The living room was devoid of any remnants of her family. Instead there was only a single futon in the center. Just beside the bed was a low table where she took her breakfast.

Bissecting her house were shoji doors that led to the guest room… in the rare event where she would have a guest.

Never thought it would be a Noxian though.

Irelia pulled back the doors and gently deposited the stranger into the spare futon. The room felt oddly stuffy. Irelia opened up the doors which led to the garden. A slight breeze came in, so fresh that she briefly forgot of the person in her house.

The sun had already begun to set when she arrived, painting the sky a shade of blues, pinks and yellows.

For a moment, Irelia didn't know what to do. There was a stranger, barely breathing in her house and lying down on the bed as if nothing happened.

Clumsily bandaged wounds had already started to leak red.

Irelia did the first thing that came to mind. She filled a bowl of cool water and dabbed away at the dirt and blood that coated the other woman. Her house was bare except for the essentials, and one of these essentials was gauze and medicine. She gathered some gauze and cleaned what wounds she could find.

With each swipe, dirt gave way to tan skin. The black war paint the woman bore around her eyes, washed away with the water, giving the other woman a peaceful look.

Bathed in the light of the setting sun, it was hard to believe that this person murdered thousands.

Apart from the armour the woman wore, the insignia of Noxus stamped white and faded on the shoulder guard; It was almost hard to believe that this stranger was Noxian.

Irelia fetched a cup of water and tilted it into the woman's mouth. Even if only a few drops went in, it should be enough for now.

A trickle of water escaped only for a tanned, scarred hand to cup her own, urging more water into her mouth.

The woman desperately gulped and when she spoke once more, her voice was rough. "Why did you let me live?"

The question is heavy, as heavy as the burden on her shoulders. A tinge of curiosity mixed with wariness coats stranger's tone.

It's almost as if she wants to die.

"A part of me wanted you dead when I thought of all those who fell before your blade but… What good would it do? You did not fight. You were empty and waited for death."

Irelia continued. "Pointless bloodshed isn't going to bring my parents back. It's not going to restore the balance that Ionia lost." Irelia paused not quite looking the stranger in the eye. Instead she focused on removing bloodstained gauze and cleaning the wounds beneath.

The wound on the woman's arm was the worst. A deep gash that languidly bled. She didn't need to be a village healer to know that it would need stitches. Coating a clean wash cloth in alcohol, Irelia gazed at the stranger. "This is going to hurt."

She expected the woman to cry out. Or at least groan in pain but all Irelia got was an exhale as she wiped at the gash.

Irelia took a deep breathe, blood used to make her nautious but not anymore. Her fingers made quick work of the needle and thread. With a motion that could only come with practice, the needle sunk into skin, weaving and mending flesh together once more.

It was a welcome distraction as she staved off the sadness that crept in. The peace of Ionia was in the past and if she looked back… she was lost.

The woman was quiet, her expression unreadable. Slowly taking in Irelia's words, the stranger spoke once more. "How do you know I won't hurt you?"

"Because you're too weak right now." Irelia gestured to the other wound at the woman's side. "Look, you can barely move."

The silence pervaded before Irelia spoke.

"Make no mistake. When you are better, I am taking you to the Enlightened One. Your fate is not for me to decide. It is for Ionia."

With that Irelia finished bandaging those wounds. The Noxian gazed back at her yet there was still no fight. It was… peculiar.

"Who are you, Noxian?" The sentence leaves Irelia as less of a question and more of a command.

The woman frowned, what words that escaped her were bitter and sad. "I am Noxian no longer."

"Then who are you?"

"I am no one."

Irelia frowned. "Then give me a name."

"Riven."


A/N: Here's the link to a pic of the layout of Irelia's house that's posted on the website flickr . com (without the spaces):

/pho tos/163435972 N07/33820951428/in/dateposted-public/