A/N: New chapter, in which Thresh is a questionable therapist, because I can't believe Ashe would get over her mother's death that easily. And Bad Things happen. Jeez, this turned out darker than I expected. I'll try to write fluffier things.
So, does anyone know what genre I should put this in? I was thinking Friendship, but there's also Drama, Fantasy, Adventure, Horror, Hurt/Comfort… so I'm not sure.
Thanks for reading. Leave a review? YOUR +1s FEED ME.
IV – One tribe. One people. One Freljord.
Peace talks were going well. Trade was opening up, and friendly relationships had generally been established. Had Ashe been inclined to be pessimistic, she'd think things were going too well, and expect something to go horribly wrong soon. But she wasn't, so she didn't.
Until she realized her next meeting was to be with the tribe her mother had died to.
Her hands crumpled the edges of the letter confirming the date of the meeting – that very day. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she slammed the document back onto her desk and stormed outside.
The crisp air cooled her initial rage, allowing for more rational thought. Intellectually, Ashe knew her mother's death to not be a personal insult, but rather, the consequence of the state of the Freljord at the time. Even having accepted that fact, she didn't trust her emotions to not betray her at the worst time.
Perhaps she could assign someone else to go? But there was no one else she trusted, and not showing up herself would be misconstrued as disrespect. There was nothing else to do but go, and focus on maintaining her composure. For everyone's sake.
A quick walk would do her some good, she decided. The landscape always soothed her nerves, and it was hardly as if she could discuss feelings with anyone in her tribe.
The sky was a shade lighter than yesterday, and Ashe sat down on the frozen earth to admire the effect it had on the clouds. The Freljord was beautiful, and anyone who claimed otherwise had never seen the pristine white after a snowstorm, or the brilliantly colored auroras. She wanted to save this place, to let all people live here without fighting hanging over their heads like storm clouds.
The sound of metal hitting metal –
"You seem troubled," Thresh commented, taking a seat beside her.
"How did you know?" she asked.
He shrugged. "You're out here instead of doing your work, which I'm sure you have plenty of."
So he hadn't been stalking her? Ashe didn't know which option was more unsettling – he was following her, or he could guess her emotional state so easily.
Instead of continuing that train of thought, she said, "My next scheduled meeting? It is with the tribe my mother died to."
"And the problem is?"
She stared at him. Did he truly not understand, or – wait. Did he even have family, or anyone he cared for?
"She was my mother!" Ashe exclaimed. "We may have agreed on practically nothing, and she was hardly affectionate, but she was still my mother."
"You misunderstand," said Thresh. "How does that keep you from doing your job? Or are you giving up so easily?" He leered.
She sighed, indignation drained. "I suppose it doesn't, really, apart from my own feelings. And that's rather selfish of me, isn't it? I'm hardly the only one who has lost family or friends."
"Family is such a transient concept, anyhow," he said. "A mere quirk of birth. Those ties break so easily."
"What are you saying? That she shouldn't be important to me?" she asked.
"Take it as you will," he said, shrugging.
"She really wasn't important to anyone but me, beyond her position as leader of the tribe," Ashe mused. "And – I don't wish for peace for any one person, not even myself. I want it for people as a whole. I can't fixate on such trivial things, like how reluctant I am to go because I still miss her."
She stood, brushing dirt and ice flakes off her clothing. "Thank you."
"For what?" Thresh said.
She shook her head wordlessly and left.
Why had Ashe been so worried?
The diplomacy was wrapping up, with trade agreements and a non-violence policy about to be signed. Her earlier anxiety seemed completely irrational. These were not the people who had killed her mother. These were reasonable human beings who had nothing to gain from more warfare.
She stood, shaking hands with the other tribe's chief. All she had to do was retrieve her entourage of guards who stood outside, say a few parting pleasantries, and leave. It hadn't gone differently from her last few meetings.
Outside, someone screamed.
The entire room was instantly on alert. Ashe took two steps toward the exit, before the door flung open to reveal one of her guards.
"It's Hanna," he told her quietly, panting. "She saw – I don't know, she saw someone, and she went crazy. Started attacking."
Caution thrown to the wind, she rushed out, pushing past the guard.
It was… not good, outside. The rest of her guards were restraining one enraged woman – Hanna, and having an uneasy standoff with a group of the other tribe's members. Their weapons were drawn. Ashe tightened her grip on her bow, which she now brought everywhere.
"That bastard killed my brothers!" Hanna screeched. "Don't you dare try to hold me here!"
The scene played out in crystal clarity, motions slowing before her eyes. Hanna elbowed the man holding her around the waist, causing him to flinch back, then charged before the others could catch her again.
Her target, an unassuming man at the front of the group from the other tribe, snarled and brandished his sword. That was the last glimpse she had of the center of the commotion, before the others covered her vision in the start of a fight.
Ashe's stare was glassy. Vaguely, she noticed civilians fleeing, before she was shaken out of her trance by the other tribe's chief.
"I should've known," he barked, reaching for his weapon. His own guards advanced. "Start a peace talk, only to backstab us unprepared? Your mother would be proud. Don't worry, you'll see her soon, so she can praise you." He spat. This was the man she'd thought so reasonable a short time before. "Seize her."
His guards rushed her. Her only blessing was that they hadn't yet surrounded her. She fled through the opening they left, fear driving her at a frantic pace impossible to sustain.
Her race through the streets drew curious gazes, but Ashe couldn't afford to stop. They were on her tail. She had to lose them, had to be safe, for any rational thought or plans to come.
She rounded a corner, turning into the marketplace, then ducked behind a stall. Sweat beaded down her face and neck. Her pursuers stormed past, not noticing her. Safe. For the moment.
Ashe wiped her brow. This situation had to be fixed, lest her fragile progress be ruined. But how? She shifted her grip on her bow, the ice comforting against her feverish skin. The chief was bent on assuming she had laid a trap. How could she convince him otherwise?
A sudden, dark thought she hesitated to call her own – he wouldn't need to be convinced if he wasn't alive to incriminate her. The idea made her skin crawl, but she still considered it. But, no, it wouldn't help. The death would obviously be pinned on her, and it would accelerate the downward spiral.
It was hopeless.
Chains clinking –
"A wonderful dilemma you have here," Thresh said.
Ashe buried her face into her hands, shaking her head. Hopeless. What use was she? She might have prevented this, if only she had talked to the guards she was bringing beforehand. Stupid, stupid.
"No comment? How disappointing."
She had no energy to reply.
A growl. "Your lack of spirit disgusts me. Weren't you so sure of yourself? Where is your conviction?"
"What can I do?" she said at last, voice thin and reedy. "Can't convince that man to see reason. Can't even go back to stop the fighting. I would be attacked on sight, and even if I could bring myself to do it, I cannot defeat half their tribe."
"Look at me," Thresh told her.
She shook her head again.
"That was not a request. Look. At. Me," he repeated.
Ashe wiped her watering eyes and looked.
His expression was thunderous, and it only darkened upon him seeing her face. She curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"You speak of the leader of this tribe, correct?" he hissed.
She nodded.
"And your problem is that he thinks you laid a trap, to attack under the pretense of diplomacy?"
"You would know," she muttered. "You have been following me."
His rage seemed to cool slightly, some of it melting into amusement. "Accuse me as much as you wish, your condemnations are unprovable."
"Tch."
"I digress," he said. "What is the real reason for the fighting?"
"One of the guards I brought, Hanna, she once lost her brothers to these people. She was the man who killed them, and her sense fled," she said.
"And you need that man to admit the fault doesn't lie with you."
Ashe snorted. "Yes, but that will hardly happen."
"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure he'll suddenly find himself… convinced."
"What are you planning to do?" she asked sharply, eyes snapping back toward Thresh.
"Solve your problem," he replied.
"What, out of the goodness of your heart? Forgive me for my skepticism."
"Hm. Good point." He paused. "You'll have to punish that guard of yours sometime. How do you feel about… delegating?"
She blanched. "How dare you – I would never let Hanna – she doesn't deserve –"
"I'd think it hardly a price at all, to repair your diplomacy. Did she or did she not ruin your relations with this tribe?" Thresh demanded.
"Well, yes, but she let her emotions overcome her," she sputtered. Wait. Her eyes narrowed. "She isn't anything to you. Why do you want to kill her?"
"Kill? You wound me, archer," he said, sounding hurt. "Besides, while she may be nothing to me, she's clearly something to you. All your people are, no?"
Ashe stared at him in horror.
He grinned. "I take your silence as acceptance of my aid. You may thank me later," he said, then vanished.
She remained frozen.
The chief looked to have aged years in less than a day. His face had paled dramatically, he hunched in on himself when he stood, and his eyes darted to and fro like a cornered animal.
"I would like… to issue a formal apology to Queen Ashe," he said, and if his halting speech hadn't given away the wrongness of what was happening, his use of the title certainly did. What had Thresh done? Did she want to know?
He continued. "I accused her falsely of calling an attack during… a diplomatic meeting."
Bile rose in Ashe's throat. No one in the crowd seemed to realize how wrong this was. The greatest reaction she observed was vague confusion. How could they not notice? This was their leader!
But she stepped forward and spoke, voice calm and collected and betraying none of her thoughts. "I accept the apology," she said, even as her mind screamed that this was damning her to the depths of the underworld. "It was an unfortunate misunderstanding which will not occur again. I hope it will not affect the relationship between our tribes?"
The man flinched as if she'd struck him. "Of… course not. However, we are prepared to make any reparations necessary."
Wrong, wrong, wrong. Ashe plastered an imitation of a smile onto her face and spoke pretty words, signing a new treaty in front of the applauding crowd. She made it back to the relative privacy of her guards before the expression cracked. For the good of the entire Freljord, she told herself. She still felt dirty inside.
A quick once-over told her none of her guards were dead, with few serious injuries. Nothing life-threatening. They were all here, fit to travel, with one exception.
Hanna was missing.
Ashe read the treaty again, blinking in bewilderment.
Their warriors answering to her – resources at her disposal – regulation over economy – this was not a peace treaty. This was a declaration of servitude.
Her fault. It was because of her. Those people had to follow the words on this piece of paper, because one man signed it. Because she couldn't find the strength to tell Thresh no, not when the allure of an easy solution called to her, when it was right in front of her.
Easy. Quick. Hardly any cost at all. Only the sanity of one inconvenient man, and of one rash woman, who'd needed a reprimand anyhow.
Hanna had reappeared a scant half hour ago, white-faced and unresponsive. Her tribe assumed it was because she realized she'd nearly ruined Ashe's plan.
An unexpected stab of anger at their blindness shot through her, then fled, leaving her cold. It was not their fault. Nobody was to blame but herself.
Was this what Thresh wanted, what he'd planned? She hurt, because she cared. Or perhaps he believe he was helping her?
The worst part was, his actions did help her. She had her treaty – she had more than her treaty – and a near-disaster had been averted. One which she would've had no idea how to solve herself.
After all, what was the sacrifice of a few in the name of the many? Ashe shuddered. That was a slippery slope she might find herself falling down easily. It was like a frozen lake, one where you couldn't judge the thickness of the ice, but stepped out onto anyway, with no one ready to save you should you fall through. Because there was no other option.
Nobody to save her. The only thing she had was her dream.
She gaze at the dark window by her desk. Her reflection stared back.
"For the Freljord," Ashe said, her mirror image copying her words without sound. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and stared into her own eyes.
