ONE
TREASONOUS LOVE
Quinn was one of the elite of Demacia, the city of purity, of justice and beauty, growing up in the rural outskirts, every day she had longed to become a great hero, and after the death of her brother, and her encounter with her new one, she was one. With the aid of her Eagle, Valor, the only remaining Demacian eagle in the known world, Quinn was the greatest scout Demacia had, after finally ascending to the city itself when she joined it's top cadre, she had found it too boring, too lacking in adventure. So now this is where she lived, behind enemy lines. Together, they were the wings of Demacia
Quinn was getting worried. She'd been sent on a reconnaissance mission to the woods near the city state of Noxus, and every night for the past week, Valor had disappeared. She didn't know where to but tonight she hoped to find out. There was always a trail to follow, even her best friend left one if you knew where to look. A disturbed branch here, a rather terrified squirrel there. She had been brought up to see those little trails, the hints that no one else saw, that's why she It was simply a matter of patience and an obscenely keen eye, and so it was that this night, she found why her bird was disappearing so, and what, or rather who it was causing him to do this.
After abandoning their small well hidden camp, with its minimal comforts of a fire, tent to protect her from the weather, and a bedroll. All her supplies she kept on her back, so she couldn't bring much. The master scout began making her way through the dense woods of pine and oak, not noticing the leaves as she brushed through them, or that damp smell of a forest in rest; following those small hints towards her quarry. She fell into something a reverie, like she always did when on the hunt, focused purely on the clues and the goal they led to. When a voice burst into being amongst the quiet noises of the forest night, that reverie was shattered like a dropped mirror.
"Beatrice! Beatrice where are you?!" Came a man's voice further to the north, a voice so deep to sound like two rocks grinding together, or Malphite with a cold. Quinn's head snapped up to look about spasmodically, her manner ever so reminiscent of the bird she had come to love. She couldn't risk discovery this close to Noxian territory. With the reputation their jailors and executioners had, that was sure to be the last mistake she ever made. Moving so fast so to be a blur she clambered her way up into the dense greenery of the tree's, hoping they would provide adequate cover to shield herself from the owner of the voice, for whom she scanned for now. Her eyes glimmering through the green to the ground as she searched for any sign of him. The height she'd climbed to gave her a much better vantage point, near enough to a bird's eye view. She had a much wider field of vision up here. Now she could see him, walking by a lake only a few dozen yards away was the caller, and when she recognised him, she nearly fell from that tree.
She recognised this man instantly, she'd been taught to hate him ever since joining the military. This was the Noxian's greatest tool, this man was the man who had been leading the Noxian's to victory for years, he was the man who had recently gained rulership of the city-state through his own tactical genius, his own wit and power. This was the man who'd caused the deaths of so many Demacian's over the years. The man walking not fifty metres from her was the master tactician himself, Swain, the Tyrant of Noxus. But... He did not look now as she though he would. He was not dressed as she would expect, he did not wear the thick red robes, nor the hawk like helm and feather laden pauldrons, all he wore was a dark green scholars robe and a bandanna up around his mouth, she got the feeling this was just what he wore when he was by himself in his home, the public eye never meant to see their ruler without his ceremonial gear. She knew this man was to be hated, and that he had every reason to hate her as he did every other member of the Demacian elite, seeing as she had killed many of his men over years. But right now, as he called pitifully for his friend, limping along the lake shore with the aid of hi. What it was that had brought this impairment, and the original injury, a horrific break in his leg, near enough snapped in two; was a mystery to all but the tyrant himself. He'd pause periodically to cough painfully into a closed fist. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him, he didn't look like a conqueror right now. Just a lonely old man looking for his friend. Though she had to wonder who this Beatrice was, she'd certainly never heard of the Tyrant having even a friend, let alone a lover.
But with yet another start her musings were broken, as an eagles call came from the east, *her* eagles call. With nary another thought spared for the poor man below, she set off leaping from branch to branch, she'd found Valor. Her hunt drew to a close.
Soon enough she reached the location of the call, stopping only a few tree's away from where it had come from. Peering over a rather thick branch, she finally caught sight of her missing friend, there he sat, curled against another bird. Another bird!? So this was why he had been leaving her, he'd found a mate, he'd found someone who mattered more to him than her.
She moved closer to get a better look at the pair, realising now that they already had a nest, to which they both now lay asleep in. When she was barely a meter from the peaceful pair she stopped paying attention to her friend, focusing purely on his companion. It was a black raven, larger than any she had seen before. It's sleek black feathers were at a contrast with her own birds rough sea storm blue ones. There was something familiar about the bird. She swore she knew this bird from somewhere, but as she stared at it the only image that came to mind was that lonely man looking for his friend, that Tyrant brought low she saw wandering through the forests. Then she realised who this was, this bird. There was only one bird smart enough for Valor. And that bird was the one that lived on a Tyrant's shoulder. The bird that currently had its cheek rested against Valor's in their slumber was none other than the one that man searched for far behind her, this was Beatrice.
This was the companion of the Tyrant of Noxus.
Valor had fallen for Beatrice. Valor had fallen for the enemy.