Chapter 4

This is Why We Never /ff at 20

She purchased a bundle of bread and jerky and shoved it in her bag before going out. Back out on the street, the woman took in a deep breath and sagged as she exhaled. The stars were bright. At least it was a clear night. Rain would not find her, where ever she ended up laying herself down. Even after all these years of sleeping under them, the stars still had a way with Riven. She stepped off the stoop and continued down the street passed the inn, her eyes turned up. For a moment she squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again, a weak smile tugging up at the corners of her mouth.

"No matter what," she said quietly, "my spiri—ungh!"

Riven tried to stifle her voice as she pitched forward and then lay sprawled in the street, her knees screaming, a heavy object at her feet.

"What the heeeeeell," she groaned seeing in the dim street-torch light that it was a pack.

Who left their goddamn saddle bags here on the side of the street? She could hear someone trotting out of the inn stable to her right, and she'd already decided it was this person's fault before he spoke.

"Oops, gotta watch where you're goin miss."

"You've. GOT. To be kidding." She glared at the Ionian as she pulled herself back up. He had an arm full of hay and pieces of it were stuck on him in various places. The large black horse in the closest stall behind him snorted in protest at his distraction. "Don't apologize for leaving your damn pack in the middle of the road or anything," she muttered.

"O-o-h, it's the crab again." To Riven it seemed like those were the most annoying words anyone had ever said. "My pack's not in the middle of the road," he continued. "How did you manage to fall over it?"

"Ugh, asshole."

He didn't miss a beat.

"Hey, I didn't take that room from you, and I didn't take Jin from you. You need to cool off and have a drink."

"That would fix everything wouldn't it?" she knew she needed to refrain from murder and just walk away, so she did. But not without saying, "I'll bet that's how you solve your problems."

He raised his voice a little at her retreating form. "Well you need something fixed!" As she left she heard him mutter, "Damn. Get it together woman."

Her chest clenched. Why? Her fists clenched too. Riven was surprised at herself as she spun and yelled as though she weren't in the middle of the street.

"What the hell do you know?"

No. Bad. This was not her. This was stupid. The man was walking back into the stall. He stopped and cocked his head back at her, frowning. After a moment of incredulous appraisal he said,

"You're a mess, aren't you?"

She glared at him. Just, glared. Her fists were tight. Why was her chest so tight? What the hell was happening to her?

"And you've got it all together, don't you?" she said with a quaver.

And then her shoulders curled forward and she broke down. The woman's white hair covered her face and she ducked her head. Only the tiniest, strangled noise came from her throat. She shoved her curled fists against her eyes in mortification.

Her thoughts were on fire, 'GODAMIT WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL?'

Riven turned away. She wanted to run but she just stood there a little curled over, feeling bewildered. Somehow the thought that stood out to her was: how, after eight years of rigorous military service and five years of rugged wandering, had she ended up here, like this? Like this? The thought was so vivid and poignant, as though she'd already been absorbing it on a subconscious level. It made her feel that somehow she'd been expecting this. With effort the soldier began to walk slowly.

'Just walk. Just walk.'

To her surprise she heard that voice again, near her shoulder.

"So, life's a bitch huh?"

Riven kept walking resolutely and drew in a slow, wavering breath,

"I would thank you... to leave now."

She could hear his nearly bare feet padding along softly beside her.

"You know if you were smart you could get a room with someone easy. Even if you aren't smart."

"Your advice is most appreciated," she bit out and turned her face in the opposite direction. "But I'll leave that to you and your whores."

"Damn," he fumbled with the hay pile, trying to keep chunks from slipping. "Come on, I've got a bed. Just take it."

"Wh-no."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's not like you have anywhere else to go. Let me toss this hay in the trough and I'll show you the room."

The man turned and walked back towards the stalls. Riven didn't know how to react.

"No!" she called after him.

"You're going to turn down a free bed?" he called back from within the stalls.

"Ugh, look! I'm... I'm not going to share a BED with you!" She rubbed her palm across her face again, trying to dry it quickly.

"Doesn't make a difference to me. Didn't say share a bed though."

Riven rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure you weren't thinking it." She didn't even have the energy to snap as she turned slowly away again. "I hate people who pretend to care."

After a moment he reappeared, brushing hay off himself.

"I'm not pretending. I don't care. But tell you what: I'm going in there, and I'm going to pay the inn keep the fee for an extra person." Her steps paused. "If you decide that a bed sounds better than an alley, then just come to the roof, huh?"

"Don't do that!" she said, slightly surprised.

"I'm doing it. You do what you want."

The samurai turned and began to walk towards the bar. He had kind of a nonchalant swagger.

"Don't!"

"I am."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Roof of the inn. I'll be there."

He opened the door to the noisy bar and disappeared into the fray. Riven stood there, arms crossed, twisting her fingers in her shirt.

"Presumptuous, ass-chasing..." she muttered in slight disbelief.

Riven paced rigidly down the road. Her hand made a last pass over her eyes, drying the last of her emotional outburst away. She hated that moment of weakness more than anything. Mortification. Regret. And, god... the men out here on the road. She used to give men orders. Now they were all either too scared to look at her or propositioning her at the drop of a hat as though traveling alone made her a desperate slut.

She kept walking. She slowed. She stopped.

"What's wrong with him?" she muttered again, very quietly.

How long she stood in the road, she didn't know. She wasn't paying attention. Then, slowly, one foot moved back.

–

Riven had to rankle with the barkeep a little. The black-bearded man tried to insist that if he was going to give the guest fee back to anyone it had to be to the man who gave it. But she was in no mood for bullshit, and the ferocity in her red-brown eyes almost didn't need the massive hilt of the sword on her back, nor the tightening muscles of her athletic body to back them up. At last she snatched the coin back. Riven shuffled quickly up the steps in the back, muttering. She was on the roof before she picked up on the gentle, lilting notes of a wind instrument. It may have been somewhere in the same family of the instruments that the minstrels in the bar below were using, but it sounded a world apart from their bouncing tunes. She continued up the steps a little more slowly. Atop the roof everything but the flute was quieter. She saw the wood bridge crossing over the streets to the guest housing. As she walked it, the silhouette of a man atop the flat roof of the guest houses came in to view. That was him, for sure. The ponytail cut out clearly against the stars. And obviously it was he who was playing the admittedly haunting notes of an eastern flavored melody. If nothing else, he was definitely an Ionian.

As soon as she stepped foot over the bridge the music stopped. She had to climb another set of stairs to get up to where he was. He was seated cross legged on the far edge, his back to her. He lowered the wooden flute.

"Didn't expect you to come back," he said, and then turned an eye on her.

Riven approached.

"I came to make you take this." She tossed the coin on the ground near him.

"Huh," he let out a dry laugh and looked at it.

Riven turned away, and then pivoted half-way back.

"I'm not helpless. This is just the week from hell, understood? And that's more than you deserve to know."

Her feet made it two steps back down.

"Hey."

She gritted her jaw at the sound of his voice and paused again. What the hell? Why didn't she just walk away like normal?She turned enough to see him. The man's head was turned further back over his shoulder, looking at her. Riven raised her hands.

"What?"

"Come here."

It wasn't a rude or demanding tone. Another pause.

"Why?"

"You could sit."

Riven sighed very deeply.

"Why would I do that, samurai?"

His eyebrows twitched down very briefly.

"Because." He turned his head back to the landscape in front of him and waved a lazy hand. "Look at it."

She looked off at the mountains and trees below.

"It's just the land."

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"No."

Tiredly she looked again. Naragkot was a town on the edge of a valley in the vast Ironspike Mountain range, on the northern reaches of Valoran. It was nestled up high into the forest overlooking a massive green swathe in the earth. Looking out from here one's view was filled with a vast, inky field of stars. Below and behind them was the street and the town, and before them the world. The sounds of merrymaking emanated faintly from many homes and inns. Up here, though, you could hear the wind and the nightly insects.

"Did you trip me?"

A corner of his lips tugged back slightly.

"What, in the tavern? No. You just let that guy go."

Riven's feet moved and she stood beside him on the edge. Her shoulders sagged. She bit her lip. Ionian. His clothes, the large rope around his waist, his hair, his armor, his sword, even the way he sat all reminded her of the place. Riled up memories that she was so tired of trying to put to rest. Almost as if too add to the impression, he removed a bamboo flask from his belt and made a small proffering noise as he lifted it to her, "Hm?"

"No."

He tilted back the flask and took a swig, and then asked, "Do you ever relax?"

"No."

The man chuckled softly and then there was quiet between them. It was a quiet that Riven was not at all eager to break. The insects chirped and the stars twinkled and she stared out at it. Wind moved by, stirring her white hair and she pulled her cloak closed.

"You're Ionian, right?"

"Mhm. What gave it away?"

"What didn't give it away?"

"Heh," he chuckled. "I guess you could say that." He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw. "Though you might be surprised at how many people are confused about me."

"Your song..." Riven grimaced a little before admitting, "was more suited to my mood than the music they're playing down there."

He nodded. "And mine."

The man seemed entirely peaceful. Riven looked down and rubbed her neck.

"It's been a long time since I heard the Lullaby of Takeda."

As expected he looked suddenly at her.

"What, you've been to Ionia then?"

"A little." She then added flatly, "I don't know what the words mean. I just recognize the tune."

"What did you think of my homeland, then?"

That wasn't really where she meant to steer the conversation.

"It was a long time ago. It was... beautiful."

He pinned her with a skeptical look as he took another swig from his flask.

"Were you there for a funeral?"

She'd tried to keep the heaviness out of her voice, but she must have failed. She was tired.
"Ah, no." Her brain stuck, but she managed to say. "Business." Riven didn't like the way he continued to look at her so she quickly added, "You should play another."

A slow smile spread over his lips.

"No. I don't play for an audience."

"Fine," she sighed, even as she crouched beside him. "I don't care."

"I'll tell you what the words of the lullaby mean, though. The song is about... the life of a peasant girl. She's sad." Riven looked at him soundlessly as he lifted his eyes, thinking "She's young and her family is poor so she has to leave her house to work for a rich family."

"So she misses home."

The man nodded.

"Yes. She looks over the mountains and longs for home."

Riven rolled her eyes. Not at him, but at herself. She couldn't believe her inclinations, but, well, since she seemed to be getting into the habit acting crazy...

"Look, I'm... exhausted. And don't know... who the hell you are or if you're a good man or what but... maybe you're a good enough man to share a room with. For a night."

There. Good enough.

"Huh. Okay, fine." Thank goodness he seemed to accept it easily enough. And then, eying her casually he added, "But don't misunderstand. I'm not at all a good man. Virtue is no more than a luxury and I don't give a damn about you."

Riven frowned a little.

"Good. I've come a long way on my own. One thing I don't need is your pity."

He nodded.

"Well, I don't think I need to kill you. And if you don't feel like you need to kill me, then I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have a bed." He took in a breath and raised hs hands, "I do know how to sleep on a floor."

Riven's eyebrows went up a little with a small smile.

"Well of course I see a lot of reasons to kill you." He glanced at her and she added, "But. I won't act on them."

"Maybe another time."

"Perhaps." Riven finally sat on the ground and pulled her knees to her chest, her stark hair moving again. She decided to make herself a little more acquainted with the stranger. "Why would you leave Ionia?"

He seemed not to have expected the question.

"Well. Everyone makes mistakes right?"

Her eyes moved up to him again.

"Heh. I won't ask yours if you don't ask mine." After a pause she added, "Best not to ask questions at all, actually."

The way he met her suggestion with silence said something before he did.

"Am I not to know where you're from?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Why does that matter?"

"Well. It's difficult to close your eyes on someone if you don't know where their loyalties lie." Ah yes, of course. He really did know this life. At once the dark cloud of all things that were Riven's history made a pass over her mind. She hugged her knees a little tighter. She would still sleep in the alley if she had to. She'd done it enough times before.

At the repeated silence he looked at her and frowned.

"I was hoping there wouldn't be an issue."

"I don't want to talk about things like that," she said. "I'm sorry I asked about you."

Dammit. The fact was the she ought to been prying him in the same way. Riven was a hunted woman and the best assassin hides in plain view. She knew that. But she didn't want to ask questions. She didn't want to know why his shoulders carried that edge of tension, or where that shadow in his elegant face came from. She wanted it to be simple. She wanted to sleep. At that moment she didn't even want to know what kind of man he really was, or how many kills it had taken to give him that steady confidence. "I just don't."

The two of them sat in silence for a while. At length the man touched the hilt of his long blue scabbard, where her eyes were now sitting.

"If you leave this sword completely out of your mind then I will do the same for you."

The relief she felt showed.

"Oh yes? I... really appreciate that. Uhm. Thank you."

"Just don't let me find you trying to get a blade in my back, or you'll never lift a blade again."

"Heheh," her laugh was sardonic, "I won't stab your back, I promise. Not unless you try mine first."

"That's fair." After a thought he asked, "I don't suppose I'm to know your name either?"

She sighed.

"I'm not feeling very creative or I would give you one to call me."

"Then I should give you one."

"Nah."

"Why not?"

"Well..." she tilted her head, "okay, fine. Give me one."

He rubbed that scruff again and eyed her.

"You know? Somehow you remind me of that carrot-looking weed that grows all along the path."

Her response could not have been less enthusiastic.

"Carrot-looking weed."

"Yes, with the white flowers. It's a hearty thing, actually. Angel lace."

Riven blinked a few times.

"It's called angel lace?"

"Yes. Or, just Angel?"

The woman recoiled her head a little and shook it.

"I can't think... of a more inappropriate name for me."

He smiled.

"Angel."

She rubbed a hand over her face and groaned softly, "Oh, god."

"Angel, what will you call me?"

"Satan."

"I forbid it."

She laughed.

"I don't know. Samurai. Shall I call you that?"

"Well, I..." he seemed to suddenly struggle for a response.

Riven nodded.

"You're not a samurai."

"I... used to be."

Ah, a kindred spirit. No wonder he'd lashed out at Jin so hard for labeling him as he did. She would not even raise the idea of calling this man "Ronin;" it would be the same as if he decided to call her "Exile." But to her surprise it was him who suggested that very thing.

"Why not? Call me Ronin."

"No," she shook her head.

"I don't see why not. It's the truth."

Riven bit her lip just a little.

"...Ronin."

"Angel."

"What does it matter?" she shrugged. "Just for a night."

Ronin nodded.

And, with that, the angel and the ronin got up and walked to their room. After Riven returned the guest fee to the inn keep of course. That was embarrassing.

/

The Lulaby of Takeda: watch?v=B27yQMuTHWc