It has been days since the exile named Riven had joined the League of Legends. Little did she knew of what's to enter the emptiness of her heart, and the man that will come back to her life, will change her life, or maybe even her way of life. What will happen to her and this assassin from Noxus? This conflict is a story about love, friendship and bravery. Risking it all for one you hold so dear in one's heart.
…
Daylight illuminated the area of the Institute of War. A snow-haired woman decided to take a stroll, wore worn-out clothes, showing that she was neither royal nor rich of a person in the society she lived in. Riven was a woman who had lost everything when 'that day' happened. Her hopes and her dreams were gone in a mere flash; as if light fading as quickly as it arrived. Only thing she had left was a broken sword, a symbol of her title, of what she was. A sword mirrors its owner. The same sword she held whilst she walked around the stone pavements of the Institute of War, and hoped no one would take notice of her. She didn't want to talk to anyone, nor was she interested in the slightest. Her eyes showed hints of despair as her brows were downcast. Riven wanted to be left in solitude, or perhaps she has convinced herself that she was better off that way. Summoners greeted her, they knew of her arrival, but she walked passed them as if they were just nothing, assuming their intentions were nothing of benefit. A hum escaped her lips, Riven now knew the doors she passed by were rooms; she did not have one yet.
Passing by, door by door in a curious manner, Riven heard loud footsteps coming from her right, getting louder with every second coming to pass, the proximity of the person to be met increased. It was a man taller than her. He had ebony dark hair with white on the side of his head. He was tall, walking proudly with each step he took. The man noticed her and slowly approached her with a clear look of disgust. She was absolutely stunned when she saw him come into view, obviously familiarized. He looked tired yet strong, a massive axe resting on his shoulder. Riven knew—knew well enough who this man was; what he is.
The tall man looked down at her. "Hmm… you actually had the guts to join the League? How brave of you, Riven."
"What do you want, Darius?" Riven stared as her brows furrowed.
"I don't want to be associated with traitors. I want nothing from someone like you," Darius said, who seemed like someone who just came home from a vigorous battle.
"A Noxian?" Her eyes shot up straight at him. "You know damn well the story, General."
"You still call yourself a Noxian?" He let out a laugh. "How courageously pathetic."
Riven did not talk back, simply, she looked away from him and took her leave. What need is there to explain herself to someone whose mind has been set somewhere else? A man not willing to let anything else be accepted other than views of his own?
"Why did you join the League?" He added as Riven turned.
"I don't know," she stated out of annoyance. Her pride had been tainted enough… if she still had it.
"You need not raise your voice." He replied. "I was simply asking."
"My business is my own." Riven clenched her fist; a grit to her teeth.
"So be it. I am heading back to my dormitory. I have just finished a match," said Darius.
"I am just taking a look around. I want to get used to seeing this view, the atmosphere." She looked to the side.
"Do you expect a tour?"
Riven interrupted. "Not from the master's dog."
"The fellow dog bites back. I respected the warrior you once were."
"I am at my own free will. As for you, you're still on a leash. I will find someone to show me around, seeing as though this place is huge."
"If you say so, I care not. Are you truly free?" He scoffed.
Was I? Riven asked in her thoughts. It left her again with no answer.
"Riven…" Darius muttered.
"What?" The atmosphere shifted to something far sober, and she saw his lips curl for a mere second.
"You can still come back to Noxus. We can still use someone like you." His words were never gentle.
She clicked her tongue. "Use me? Hmph, perhaps once things are set straight." With a swift turn to him, she gave off a grin, not out of happiness. "Better get used to me. I'm not easy to get rid of." Not as how they did so easily to her comrades.
Darius stared at her for a moment, not fully grasping what she said, and when the woman was finally out of range in hearing, he spoke quietly. "Until our next meeting, Riven, The Exile." He too went on his way, pondering what she said. He always admired her way of answering things he lashed out. His respect for her as a warrior remained, and would perhaps stay.
…
Riven continued on with her usual countenance as she walked down the halls, vast and wide not just for a minute's walk. After she wandered around aimlessly, Riven was exhausted; she had not even been through half of the institute. She went to the gardens, so near to where she was; and there she decided to rest for a while. Finally, some relaxation that would put a troubled thought at bay.
It was as if an open field, filled with air that carried fragments of leaves and petals that danced gracefully at her feet. One can hear the sound of a rushing stream, and there she knew that the place was truly massive in size. Riven never truly found a soul to accompany her in her mindless wandering. No one would volunteer anyway, and solitude was a longtime friend.
Her ears heard a wonderful and relaxing sound; she wanted to know where it was coming from. She looked around and saw a woman sitting under the shade of an oak tree. Hair so oddly blue like a clear mint in morning sky, its tips like sunflowers in bloom; it was that mute Demacian she so frequently heard about in her travels—in her aimless wandering. Sona plays an etwahl, a large stringed instrument, a bridge of strings with no frets, a beautiful instrument in its own right; and she saw her using it. Riven was delighted to hear it, but then the musician noticed the moment of her arrival. The music stopped, she wondered why and peeked from behind the tree she hid behind. Sona was gone, and Riven felt a light touch on the back of her shoulders and she turned, seeing it was the maven. Why wasn't she repelled at her appearance? They both knew that their city states were at war since forever. The musician sat in front of her and started to strum the strings of the instrument. It was a signal that the maven wanted to play for her, and she would never deny such a performance. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning against the strength of the same tree she hid herself, and only realized that when she woke up, the maven was still there, fixing the strings of the music-making piece. Sona was neither a friend nor foe to Riven. If only she could attend one of her ever enchanting concerts, if only she had a little pinch money. It was a pleasure for her to be able to see her face to face and be able to listen to her play the beautiful tune of her instrument.
"Thank you for that." Riven scratched her head.
Sona nodded, a smile given upon Riven—pure and gentle to the exile's eyes. Fingers went to Sona's lips, and then offered to her direction.
She tilted her head to the side at Sona's action. "A… flying kiss?"
The Demacian smiled and shook her head. A shame it was to be unable to express feelings able to be understood by the vast majority of people. Her way of saying 'you're welcome' did seem as if it was the gesture Riven assumed.
"I apologize," Riven said and rubbed a palm from her hair to the back of her neck. Finally, she was a Demacian worth to her liking.
Sona stood, hoping she'll catch on to her thoughts, she offered a hand towards Riven.
Has the maven always been this friendly? Riven thought as she accepted her help in pulling her up, taking her hand and springing herself upwards.
Overwhelmed by the sudden weight, she almost struggled in helping the ex-Noxian. Riven's well-built state was almost too much for her own, although through the outcome of her help, her struggle was hardly noticeable, revealing the same heart-warming smile.
Riven thanked her once more, almost alarmed by how she acted towards someone, well, like her.
The musician knew of their nation's conflicts but she was never ignorant, and neither was she too trusting. Although she was wary, a voice inside her told Riven bore little to no threat. If threat were to come, Sona was quite ready.
Upon parting her lips to speak, Riven was shadowed by a man whose presence caused her expression to become staid. Riven was met with a proud look, by a tall form, wide shoulders that were further extended by his pauldrons. A fierce look made in his eyes as she hid the maven almost completely behind his back.
"What business do you have with this woman? I know the very sword you hold, or at least fragment of it." His voice did not falter. It was clear she wasn't welcomed.
"I have no plans in hurting someone who offered me kindness," Riven retorted, turning to Sona.
"Why should we trust Noxian filth?" The man dismissed Sona, almost forcefully even. Although she wished to stay, there was nothing she could do and dismissed herself, a small hidden wave given to the ivory-haired warrior, thinking she'll regret walking away. She hoped they'll meet again. She wanted no part in the Might of Demacia's actions. However, the maiden did not take her leave completely; only keeping her distance in case it would break out into a gruesome fight.
Returning her gaze, Riven turned bitter, and unfortunately she was given another reason to dislike the likes of them. Riven haughtily clicked her tongue at the man attempting to be haughtier. "Have you nothing to do?" she asked, peering at him. "Go away. Kiss your king's foot while you're at it."
"Do I have to teach Noxian dogs how to heel?" The man growled.
Riven would only growl in return. "Perhaps, if you can stand its bite. I assure you the bark is less agonizing."
As if on cue, both sides grasped the hilts of their own swords, their tension only grew. Amidst a day so pleasant, it was like theirs shifted into something far woeful to the eyes, as if a different weather formed around them—an upcoming storm. Regardless of the man's mass, it only caused her to challenge him more, to cut down his dignity. As if he'll be any harder to oppose than those she's faced, confident in her skills.
"Hah. Forgive him," a voice said somewhere near where it directed both fighters to look from where it came from. "He has no manners, being a Demacian general even." The individual approached them both with a cheeky grin flashing at them.
Riven motioned her shoulders backwards, perhaps relieving her own temper for the man who started it all. Another presence she knew of, perhaps a more palliating sight for amber-riddled irises. History in the face she saw, the crimson locks that caught the eyes of the enemies she has slain, perhaps the last thing they saw along with a set of emerald hues that pierced hearts the way her daggers did. She spoke nothing in return. Even the man was silenced with her arrival.
"Well? Have at each other. This will surely be a show," the redhead said, keeping her grin in check.
"You have no business here, Lady Katarina," the man replied with a solemn tone. He was never one for pointless jokes.
"So do you. I saw; she didn't do anything wrong. We are all knowledgeable the maven is capable of protecting herself." Katarina threw her hair back with a crimson flow.
Garen stared for a moment before roughly clearing his throat. "How would you know?"
The redhead sighed audibly. "Demacians are so nosey." She shook her head sideways, glancing at the exile with a raised brow. "I know you. Though, I can't seem to put my mind into it." Another pause was made, snapping her fingers as her memory freshened.
"Leave me alone," Riven demanded, she's had enough of familiarities. Fleeing the scene, she wanted solitude. Garen, Katarina, left alone.
A sudden change in ambience as Katarina sighed out. Looking towards the burly individual, she grinned and left him as well. The assassin turned away, and the grin faded instantly as she went on her way. Why did she bear such a heavy heart in his presence? No matter, she told herself and fled to look for Riven.