The Demacians close ranks to discuss their verdict. Shyvana guards their wing. It does not surprise me that the outcome is of no interest to her. No doubt, her feelings on the subject were conveyed in a single weary grunt.

She has cast aside her bipedal form. No one dares approach the reclining dragon. She looks even hungrier than Sejuani's boar.

Quinn is nowhere to be seen. I am alone, sat on the floor in a shadowy corner of the range. There is something oddly therapeutic about seeing familiar rooms from a new perspective. Gazing up, I see myself, an impressive, reliable adult, effortlessly guiding my subjects and allies.

Do our children feel safe when they look at me?

I wanted to offer the castle-bound Quinn a glimpse of the Freljord, an impossible, indifferent majesty, free of mortal prejudice, a vision to hold close when the world is vast and unkind. Have I lost my chance? If the alliance with Demacia goes ahead then she could be stationed here. However, the rarity of our connection, our mutual need, only inspires dread.

I rest my cheek on the stone. It is heavenly. My room is haunted by dreams but here… is nothing… my body, lifeless… mind, shutting down… bliss.

'Sian, can you hear me?' Someone pats down my sides, checking for injuries. I twitch once, my survival instinct briefly overriding my knowledge that it must be Quinn. 'Are you hurt? What happened?'

I'm starting to remember why I don't sleep on the floor. Any emotional reward is brutally offset by the pain of waking. My bones feel as if they'd been savaged with a tenderising mallet. 'Relax, I…' a loud yawn swallows my words, 'fell asleep. It's fine.' I'm relieved that I can still do it.

She is cradling me. I think she's washed her clothes but it's hard to tell beneath all that perfume. It seems Quinn either tries too hard or not at all. It's very cute. I just want to pull her down and educate her. My arm snakes around her neck. She sighs. 'You can't… I know this isn't my land. You know the risks but… anything could happen.' She's babbling. 'I know what it's like, wanting to destroy yourself, and everything, because you can't lie anymore, but there are people who care about you!'

Was that a confession? I lean closer. 'Oh, Quinn…'

'It's not funny!' She turns away from me. 'Don't do that again!'

I deserved that for toying with her. In the Freljord, punishing love comes naturally. Maybe that's why Sejuani keeps rejecting me, and why I'm throwing myself at Quinn.

It shouldn't be this way… but I haven't unified this country yet… and I am still cruel.

Before I can apologise, Quinn settles down and reclaims the penitent role. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to shout. I wanted to come sooner but His Majesty called me to his chambers. He wanted to know if I had seen anything.'

'Oh…' Would she divulge her liaison with another woman? I've no idea how Jarvan would answer. By all accounts, he's a man of the world. Even if he objected for personal reasons, I'm sure he has more important things on his mind. At best, the information would expose little about the Freljord and much about Quinn. He should not condemn our treaty for a dalliance between staff.

No… Jarvan is allowed his criteria, however strict or frivolous. I should not hold him responsible for excusing my conduct.

Though am I really to blame for loving the wrong person? I never wanted sleepless nights, guilt and madness. Why can't I lie with my husband, like any other woman, and greet the day with renewed vigour? Instead, I trespass on foreign lands after sundown, wolfing their seed, when I should be leading my tribe to supremacy.

Everyone has their unseen cross to bear. I can't ask for exemption. A better person would have been strong… but the damage is done. I have sold my honour, so I will take my due.

Quinn's mouth is agape, as though she is trying to force a great sickness from her core. 'Sian…'

I rest my finger on her lips. 'No.' Her bright eyes are timorous yet hopeful. She wants me, despite her virtue. That overwhelming scent, a harlot's call for trade or an adolescent cry for attention, leads a trail into her sacred woods. If she longs to be chased, I will grant her wish and bare my fangs. 'Don't say a word. Nothing good will come of it. All I want to know is you…' I gently push my finger into her mouth. She sucks on the tip. 'And me.' I guide us both to our feet. 'Come. I want to show you something.'

The Freljord is never truly dark. Moonlight and snow tell half the story but there is so much more, the glistening hide of a predator, the shining eyes of its prey, frozen lakes refracting starlight through a million cracks.

And there is one special kind of light…

'Every campfire tells a story.' I embrace Quinn as we observe the landscape from our natural shelter. My hand sketches the contours of her temple, cheekbone and jaw. 'I see hope, fear, curiosity, contemplation. I look at the strength and shape of each blaze. Wide and rich, I see a hunting party swapping jokes and telling tales… pale and blue, I see fay spirits dancing under the stars… when I see glowing embers, I think of two people against the world, sharing warmth, trust… and something more.'

Quinn rests in the crook of my shoulder. The tip of her nose draws little circles on my neck as her warm breath tickles my collarbone. 'I can't believe… it's so romantic. I thought…' she hiccups, tears come to her eyes, 'people like me never shared moments like this.'

'Beauty is everywhere, my young butterfly.'

She kisses me on the lips. The gesture is simple and sweet, a marked improvement on before. Should I feel proud? Quinn's first proper girlfriend will appreciate my tutelage, if there is one. 'Thank you so much. I… oh, it's embarrassing… I brought a present of my own but it's nothing compared to this view.' She fishes within her knapsack and produces two bottles. 'I didn't know if you liked red or white so I brought one of each.'

'Oh, Quinn, you shouldn't have!' A courtship gift from a woman, such a minor thing that I've always wanted. I'm thrilled that Quinn is taking the initiative. I could swoon in her arms.

'There were so many different kinds! I had no idea where to start. I could have asked someone but Xin would recite poetry and Lux would make fun of me.'

'It's wonderful. This has made my night!' I give Quinn a peck on the cheek, a promise of more to come, and examine the labels. The white is a Pinot gris, the kind of trusty beverage I would drink every day if I could. However, the red is far more intriguing. It's a Cabernet from House Laurent, expensive and unpopular but something I'm inclined to give a sporting chance. 'Hmm… I prefer white but, for some reason, I fancy the red. The colour matches your hair.'

Quinn giggles and plays with a strand. 'The dye is made from grapes, and a few secret ingredients, but I'm sure the wine tastes better.'

'I wouldn't be so hasty.' My gaze lingers on her thighs. 'You're looking very delicious right now.'

'Ooh, I can't believe that I'd erm…' Quinn is so bashful that she covers her groin as if she'd emerged naked from her bath to an audience. When she twigs that she's needlessly grabbed her crotch in front of me, she turns bright red and mumbles into her cloak. 'Taste that good.'

'You'd be surprised.' I imagine serving Quinn the taste of her own arousal as I uncork the bottle. Eagerly, I savour the wine's bouquet. It's impossible to judge quality without pouring but I haven't had wine for so long. 'Do we have any cups?'

'Yes!' Quinn nearly shouts in relief at the change of subject. 'I borrowed some glasses.'

'You are resourceful. Proper drinking vessels in the Freljord?' I lounge on my fur. 'You are spoiling me!'

Quinn sounds almost debonair while I fill her glass. 'Only the best for my charming host.' Reflections from our campfire dance in the ruby cascade. 'It's not all bad up here. You have some very fancy tankards.'

'We do but…' I was going to jest about preferring curves but I'd rather not make poor Quinn feel inadequate. Her narrow body suits her well. 'They're not for me.' The hue of the wine takes me back to our prior conversation. 'Why do you colour your hair?'

'So Valor knows I'm an ally.'

'He must recognise you by now.'

'It helps him focus. He gets distracted very easily.' Quinn tries to copy my wine tasting. While it is fun, watching her act all grown-up, she'd enjoy it more by minding her own palate, rather than my actions. 'But you're right. It's more of a habit now.' I don't know if she's aware but she keeps glancing at my breasts. I am wearing a very low top. Her attention is worth the cold.

'What's your natural hair colour?'

Her mouth twitches. 'It's erm… red.'

I gasp and nearly choke on my wine. 'Ooh, I love red hair! And with those golden eyes, you must look stunning!'

'Really, it's not that…'

'How could you hide something that precious?' I tug at my neckline as I imagine red hair against the backdrop of the Freljord. That's it. I'm redrafting the terms of our alliance. All I want now is "Quinn and a hot bath".

'I don't mean auburn or strawberry-blonde. I mean red, like full-on country-bumpkin peasant-girl red.'

Avarosa, I think I squealed. 'How darling!' I pounce on Quinn. With eager hands, I comb through her mane, trying to see her roots. 'Do you have freckles? If you wear make-up, I'm going to be so cross.' Raising her arms in feeble defence, Quinn spills wine down my chest. We roll across the fur, laughing while she tries to push me away.

Quinn doesn't know how to play-fight. Her boot strikes my abdomen, launching me through the air. She pins me down. My belly churns with claret and throbs with pain. I'm slightly winded from the impact. This could be an attempt on my life and there's no one to help. I'm at Quinn's mercy. The rational part of my brain is deploring my selfish madness but all higher thoughts are consumed in a firestorm of lust. Her palms crush the veins in my wrists. My fingertips go numb. The flames lick higher. For all her inexperience, my rangy little girl is stronger than me.

And I love it.

'No fair,' I struggle to breathe as her tough, angular body pressures mine. 'I was only playing.'

'Oh?' Quinn smiles like a rambunctious child who's unaware of my turmoil. 'Does that mean I've won?'

'Maybe...' I wet my lips. Come hither, Quinn. I know you want this. Take your prize.

The moment stretches to breaking point. She isn't moving. Kiss me already! Don't make me beg… or make me beg. That could work.

Wait. Is she crying? Her eyelids crease up. Losing all dignity, she sniffs and honks as her body spasms with grief. 'Quinn?' I scramble upright and hold her close while she bawls into my shoulder. Oh, I was silly to expect a confident lover. It's all so new. 'Hush, babe, we don't have to go any…'

'I want to!' she yells in defiance. 'I want to go all the way but… I don't deserve you. I'm a horrible, twisted person and…' her words collapse into sobbing.

What have the Demacians told this girl? She has blood on her hands, no doubt, but so do I. We have to focus on a peaceful tomorrow, not a savage present. 'You're not. I think you're lovely.'

'You don't know me. I…'

'You don't know me, Quinn. I pledged my soul to Avarosa but I was greedy… and the part I kept has grown darker than the void.' If we consummate a web of lies, my damnation will be complete but I can't deny Quinn to soothe my guilt. 'I don't deserve you…' taking her face in both hands, I kiss her forcefully, a wake-up call, 'so we're even. I am more than happy to talk, drink and watch the stars but don't let shame hold you back.'

'Okay.' Her eyes flicker and her head rocks in time with each rapid breath. 'Just answer one question?'

'Yes?'

'Do you want me?'

I skate my hand down her side, feeling every little bump of her ribcage. 'I want you.'

Quinn lets out a ragged sigh of surrender. 'Then take me… please.'

I understand. She doesn't want a choice in the matter. Perhaps good girls don't initiate or she delights in submission. I've been there.

We can't always pick our roles. Even my pursuit of Quinn felt like a chain around my neck, dragging me onwards. Now, I succumb to the yoke of leadership. I am Queen of the Freljord and Quinn is my tribute.

I claim her lips with sensual, rhythmic intensity, a motion that could be only the start of lovemaking. Her kisses are bold and fluent. My little bird learns quickly.

Knowing she must be self-conscious, I offer my body first, placing her hands on either side of my breasts. 'Go on.' She touches me reverently. I do like it rough but, right now, Quinn's gentle discovery is balm for my nerves. Once my nipples grow firm with arousal, Quinn shyly plays with them through the material. Suspecting that she won't take the next step without explicit permission, I pull down my top. She gapes in wonder. It's a thrill to inspire such awe. 'Do you like them?' I ask, teasingly.

'Oh, Sian, they're gorgeous! I…' she covers her mouth, as though ashamed of her outburst.

'You can use more than your hands.' Wetting my lips to illustrate my point, I grab her collar. 'I insist.'

Quinn draws rapid circles with her tongue. I moan happily, voicing my approval as she pushes my breasts upwards and together. Once I feel she has earned her reward and I've earned mine, I kick off my boots and peel off my skirt. I raise one leg and waggle the garment as it hangs from my foot. When the skirt falls, Quinn surprises me by sucking on my toes. Did she misinterpret my signals, or does our innocent little girl have a fetish? I hope it's the latter. The idea is far too precious. I've never had anyone worship my feet before. It feels good. Quinn is teaching me some new tricks.

Eventually, I part my legs to her and bare my throat as the first pulse hits below. The first touch is not with Quinn's hand but her eyes.

Like a nervous animal, she pads closer on all-fours. Her face is next to mine as I guide her arm downwards. My expression is apparently more fascinating than any direct response. I can understand why. If I had Sejuani, I would happily go blind if, just one time, I could watch her stern façade crack beneath orgasm.

I reveal every moment of pleasure while she finds her tempo… adagio, andante. Is this good for you, Quinn? Am I performing well?

'Erm… is this okay?' she asks. Not fair, I said it first, maybe not out loud but still…

'Oh, yes…' my mouth twists through different shapes. 'Oh… I needed this.' Even if I am overacting, I don't have to pretend. Quinn's a natural. I barely have to provide any guidance. Even if her polite, languid strokes rarely feature in my erotic daydreams, they work because I can feel Quinn's personality in them. I don't know if she's aware but she's moving her fingers independently rather than using her entire hand as one. It's a minor wrinkle but those unpredictable touches take me out of the moment enough to drive me onwards.

Quinn maintains our connection with pleading kisses until she asks the thrilling question. 'Should I go down?'

'Hmm… that would be nice.' Quinn smiles and goes to work. I feel hesitant pecks before she works up the courage to involve her tongue. She probably grew up thinking intimate places were dirty. Even with uncontrollable desire, there's a little bump in the road.

It was the same with my first time. I was baited into the act by an older girl, whom I didn't even like, charging a "toll" for showing me her breasts and full spread of pubic hair. I think she was trying to bully me and assert her dominance over the chieftain's daughter. It backfired. I was a very eager participant and unsettled her with my enthusiasm. After that, she was scared of me, like I'd eat her alive if given a chance.

Was it abuse on her part? I don't know. It's hard to feel wronged, especially after my studied manipulation of Quinn.

Am I part of a cycle that can't be broken?

Quinn isn't holding back anymore. She's grabbing, sucking and lapping with crazed hunger like she's trying to sand off a knot. I enjoy giving oral. It's a great way to overcome shyness. You cast aside all dignity and look magnificent, a virtuoso, tonguing your lover's reed. I grind into Quinn's face and tug at her hair. It won't be much longer.

I make a lot of noise when I come, so I'm bemused when she doesn't get the message. Quinn drives at my oversensitive clitoris until I shoo her back with a gentle, 'I'm done.' Pulling her into my arms, I compliment her between kisses. 'Do you see? You are handsome… and sexy… and talented… and can make women feel so much better than they could possibly imagine.'

'Thank you.'

'No, Quinn,' I tut, 'you're not supposed to thank me until…' I slide my hand between her legs. The poor thing tries to mask her pleasure by shutting her eyes and mouth. She blasts air from her nostrils like a muzzled foxhound. Her carnal side is awakening. 'Don't be embarrassed. You're allowed to feel good… and look even better.' Quinn shakes her head in protest. 'I know. You won't take my word for it.' Coming for another person is a huge leap. You're disclosing your primal self and hazarding rejection for demons you would never choose. Even I couldn't do it the first time. 'If you let me…' I weaken her defence with eager strokes. 'I promise not to look at your face. Will that help?'

Quinn mumbles. 'I guess it's too cold to put out the fire.' She already knows the answer.

'I wouldn't recommend it,' and I'd never liked having sex in the dark. I'm greedy. I want to know my lover with all my senses.

'Okay.'

'We don't have to...'

'No!' Her eyes flash a dangerous yellow. Quinn arches her back high and claws at my breast. 'We've come this far. Please don't give me a way out.'

Responding to Quinn's touch, I slip one hand down the back of her tight leggings, and one up her front. Oh, how I'd craved her muscles… and reality is even better than my fevered imagination. Everything is toned, chiselled and glazed with sweat. You could break swords against those abs and between those buttocks.

I start lifting her top. She locks her arms to stop me going further. 'Quinn?'

'I… I don't like my breasts. They're…' she can't finish her description. 'Can I leave this on? You can… take off the rest if…' her words trail into silence.

I hate this world for bombarding people with unrealistic paintings and sculptures. Growing up in a wilderness, relatively free of those impossible standards, was a blessing, though my ancestors clearly had their ideal women. You wouldn't think that Avarosa had given birth or lived past thirty if her statues were any clue. I highly doubt that Quinn has any "blemish" worth hiding, maybe a scar or two, but we all have them. After years of battle, my legs and arms could be used as a map. I guess we all have one thing we'd change about ourselves. Maybe she feels that her breasts are too small and wide, or her nipples are too large. I have big areolas and she didn't complain.

It's cruel of me to speculate if she's worried. 'You don't need to ask my permission, Quinn.' I smile to reassure her as best I can. 'If it's okay, I would like to touch them.'

'Could you… do it through my clothes?'

'Anything you say.'

I gently cup her breasts. They're modest and delicate, like soft, snowy islets in a frozen lake. For a moment, Quinn looks as though she might run. However, a slow push of her hips and a long, drawn-out breath signal her relaxation. Hopefully, this is the first step towards Quinn associating her body with pleasure, not shame.

Only one of her nipples reacts to my attention. I guess there might be scarring, after all.

I begin to peel down her leggings. When she tenses up again, I pull her close to distract her with kisses and spread my thighs to accommodate her narrow hips. In the security of our embrace, I carefully undress her lower body with my toes. When the barriers are down, I marvel at how naturally our different shapes fit.

I lay her cheek on mine and whisper in her ear. 'You're beautiful, Quinn, so…' My tongue grazes her skin as my hand reaches past her bottom. I take one finger and draw it slowly up her thigh. 'So beautiful.'

'Ah!' She cries out when I touch her labia. Quinn tries to swallow her response. Tell-tale whimpers rise in frequency and volume until she unclenches her jaw. 'Oh! Oh, Sian… uh!'

After she's become slick, I resolve to be selfish. 'Are you enjoying that?' I suck on her earlobe. She whines helplessly, too embarrassed to say "yes". 'I'd like to use my mouth on you. Does that sound good?' She nods violently and squeaks an affirmation. I pat her hip. 'If you get on top, you can make all the faces you like, and you'd make me very happy.'

She hesitates. I almost whoop for joy when she gets up and straddles me. Her vulva is pale, bare, and absolutely gorgeous. I wonder if it's Demacian custom to shave. More than likely, she's just veiling her natural colour. There are some nicks that look fresh from this evening.

Ooh, Quinn, you naughty girl, preparing for sex in advance. I picture the scene, her legs open wide before the mirror, hand shaking with excitement as she lowers the razorblade, impure thoughts rampaging through her mind. She probably had to stop and masturbate halfway through… then overdose on perfume to mask the smell.

Quinn stammers and bites her thumb. 'Will you be all right?' She's left-handed. Those must be the fingers that she used… in her mouth…

Avarosa, strike me blind.

I'm actually drooling. 'The less you worry about my comfort, the more I'll enjoy this.' A polite way of saying that I want her to crush my skull with her muscular thighs and asphyxiate me with her womanly scent. I lunge forwards and devour her with gusto. She tastes incredible. To my delight, she loses control just as rapidly and squeezes my temples with such force that my ears pop. I just about get enough air through my nose to stay awake. My hands are all over her body. I would kill to have eight arms so I could grab all of her at once. Instead, I can only paw frantically with one hand while pleasing myself with the other. Not that I didn't enjoy Quinn's prior efforts but this is what I really wanted.

I don't know how long we take. Sensual overload removes all perception of time. A new sound from Quinn, a rapid crescendo of high-pitched yelps, announces her peak. While she pants and quivers, I brutally power towards my own orgasm with slow, powerful strokes, like I'm trying to dig something out of my body.

There it is. I cease all movement and let ecstasy take over. Muscles clench and throb without interference. No control, my toes curl, my fingers twitch. I am a lifeless doll.

Quinn shuffles back. Her blank eyes are startling white, glistening pearls within blood-red skin. She topples over then strains to kiss me. There is an awkward pause when she sees how drenched I am with her arousal.

She kisses me anyway. Thank you, Quinn.

After a while, she tries to speak. 'Hmm… th… ah… uh… hmm.'

We both doze for a while. Stray gusts of air snake through the trees and scatter ashes from the fire. Specks fall across my skin and hair, so any sleep I get remains light. Once I'm refreshed, I make sure that Quinn has most of the fur. Now that our blaze is weakening, she'll feel the cold more. As I tuck the blanket around her shoulders, I watch her breathe. She looks so attractively normal. Our world forces everyone to perform on a deadly stage, turns everyday kindness into vile heroism, and persuades us that our wretched state is ordained, rather than a perversion of our gentle nature.

I want to create a world where we can all just be.

Drawn by her loveliness, I hold Quinn's cheek. She's so hot, all that young energy burning bright. Her eyelids flutter. I hope my touch isn't cold. She yawns and stretches. 'Did I fall asleep?'

I smile, knowing that proud, vigilant Quinn is going to be mortified. 'We both did.'

'Ugh…' she looks at the sky to gauge the time. I'd be very impressed if she could read the stars in a foreign part of the world. 'After I told you off?'

'Yep.' I kiss her on the forehead.

Quinn scowls. I picture her as a babe, throwing a tantrum when put to bed. Maybe I'll adopt her. I could paint her room indigo then carve little wooden birds to hang from the ceiling. 'Outside without cover. Something could have eaten us.'

I massage her belly. 'It would appear that I'm the only monster on the hunt for young prey.'

Quinn sounds dejected. 'You're not a monster.'

'It was a joke.'

'Your feelings aren't a joke. I know what it's like to need someone. Even if you're older, we're both vulnerable. I should be looking after you too. I should have stayed awake.'

Her sense of duty is commendable. However, Quinn is too young to see the imbalance. 'It can't be helped.' I slip my arm under her neck and pull her close to me, reasserting our roles. 'This place, it… does things. I chose it for a reason.'

'Is it magical?'

'Perhaps… I don't know. As a child, I couldn't sleep. Every word that my tribe said repeated over and over in my head. Most of it had no meaning or relevance to me. Just knowing that people were there…' I cut off the description. My paranoia bore no wisdom. The real threats came later. 'I had to find a place where I could rest. One day, I fled into the mountains and lost my way. Night fell. I passed out from exhaustion and woke up here… soil like velvet, close trees that provided shelter from the wind, rain and snow. I could feel the landscape watching over me. That was the beginning, I think, of knowing that safety was more than strong walls and military strength. There had to be something more, something deeper.' I can't go on. "Queen Ashe" is renowned for her shamanistic vision. If I describe it as a personal revelation, my true identity would be exposed.

Quinn is awestruck. 'And you brought me here… to your sanctuary?'

'Our sanctuary.'

I soon regret my answer. Quinn fidgets, like she'd accidentally broken a holy artefact or unique heirloom. I'm drowning her with intimacy. My gifts are weighing her down. She needs to feel that she's earned my blessings and I'm not giving her a chance. Instead, I'm saddling her with debt.

It's easy to overlook the pace of our affair. I was numb with stress when it began. Quinn had no such protection. Trembling, she lifts her head. 'I…' something jolts her entire body. Her muscles flex and her brow hardens. I recall telling her my alias. Her feral aspect emerged to lock its jaws around the information. 'I need to ask you something.'

A chill passes through my bones. 'Anything.'

'Promise you won't laugh.'

'I promise.'

Quinn blurts out. 'Am I still a virgin?'

With her sudden focus, I expected something weightier. I assume her question is merely a feint or an opening. The appearance of chastity might be essential if Quinn sought power through marriage but, as Jarvan's retainer, she's guaranteed a knighthood if she doesn't cross him. 'I would say "no". You've been sexually involved with another person… willingly.'

'That makes a difference?'

'I believe it does. When you share your innermost desire, that's a huge step. Without it, you're missing a vital part of the experience. The same applies if you erm...' I don't want to pick the wrong term and fuel Quinn's anxiety, 'use someone as an object. You're avoiding the responsibility, and the joy, of knowing someone's heart.'

'What about my… er...' she mutters, 'hymen?'

I roll my eyes. 'Your hymen is a cultural and political resource. During sex, it has no greater role than any part of your body. A stiff jaw is a bigger obstacle than a taut hymen.'

She doesn't sound convinced. 'Right…'

Was I too dismissive? Her fears are genuine. Phallocentric nonsense is rampant amongst the rich and powerful. Even if Quinn has enough status to ignore most of them, she clearly doesn't appreciate that, and I doubt she's at a stage to fully trust her own judgement. 'With your backflips and cartwheels, you might have stretched yours already.'

'I was told that it would hurt.'

'Maybe...' I suffered when Tryndamere and I consummated our marriage. We both did. It's not like he wanted his ego broken upon a dry partner. Strangely, I think I preferred my role to his. I had arguments ready to force his compliance but they were trifling. In all honesty, I felt obliged to earn my glorious coronation through sacrifice.

Despite my prayers, I didn't conceive on the first try. No doubt, my hypothetical child praises the wisdom of nature. I'd make a terrible mother right now.

Quinn pulls her knees to her chest. 'I don't want anyone else to hurt me.' Her knuckles are pale with anger. 'It's not fair.'

I want to comfort her but she radiates an aura like the spines of an echidna. 'Well, it might not hurt and you don't have to worry about it now… or ever. There's no obligation.' It's wrong to admire her form while she's worried but her coiled legs are hypnotic. I trace a line down her calf. She doesn't object. 'When you're ready…'

'No, you've got it wrong,' snaps Quinn. 'I am ready. I want you to hurt me.'

Darkness falls. Our last embers fade. I had foreseen Quinn's emotional fallout. Gold that glitters in the blaze of passion can look foolish and crude in the sharp distance of tomorrow. Even so, her anguish feels dangerous. I work hard to keep my voice light. 'Quinn, I'm flattered but, one day, you'll find someone to be yours forever. Surely they deserve…'

'No!' Quinn is nearly shouting. 'You brought me to your safe place! Now it's tainted! You're going to come here and remember me!'

'That's a good thing!'

'It is now but… anything could happen.'

A cold, sick dread rises in my gut. Fearful words trip through my teeth. 'You… want me… to punish you? What… have you done?'

Quinn lies on her back. 'Nothing…' she whispers, 'yet.' Her expression is death, eyes wide, mouth open. 'You should… kill me.'

She knows.

After that, I knew what was coming. Even if I couldn't see or feel it, I knew. My whole being aches with despair and regret. 'No…'

'You can't,' she says wearily. There is no disappointment. There was no hope. 'That's why…' she swallows her confession, 'but I know you can hurt me… please.'

I could lecture her again about false notions of purity, that honour bears no relation to the space between her thighs, but she's Demacian. She's conditioned thoroughly to crave absolution through certain rituals. I may disagree with them but I can't reason away feeling.

And I was no different.

When I finally rest my hand upon her, she looks so grateful that I cry. 'Don't suffer in silence. If it feels wrong, then tell me.'

'Yes.'

I'm barely inside when she moans. Her walls clench so hard that even the very tip of my finger is rejected. 'Quinn, your body's telling you something. You don't…'

'Lies! It's lying! Make it suffer!' Quinn grabs my arm and twists. 'Keep… going.'

I push farther. She's wet but the tightness is excruciating and my nails are long. I'd grown them out for the visit. I'd only wanted to look pretty. 'This isn't normal, Quinn.'

'Good!' She's clawing chunks out of the ground. 'I'm a freak. Do it!'

'You're not a…'

'I am a freak!' She spits the word with such ferocity that she foams at the mouth. 'Keep going! Please, please, please, please keep going!' This is more than twisted salvation. Quinn is directly aroused by the pain I inflict. My power… excites me. Avarosa, cleanse my soul! I don't want to be this way!

Every millimetre hurts. Quinn is thrashing and growling through her teeth like a wounded animal. Suddenly, her head flies back and her jaw hangs loose. Her breathing is rapid and shallow. 'Oh… oh… that's… that's it… that's it.'

I'm relieved. Wary of causing any damage below, I remain still. 'Are you all right?' I stroke her face tenderly.

'Yes… I…' she looks at me through heavy-lidded eyes. A trail of saliva runs from her mouth and down her cheek. 'I really want to feel you move but… I don't think I can take it.'

Neither could I. Entwining our fingers, I withdraw as slowly as possible. Quinn bled a lot, even without any thrusting. I pray that it's the start of her period.

The smell of copper rushes through my brain. I hear the sound of war drums, a tolling bell, snarling hounds. For one hellish moment, I crave the taste of Quinn's blood. My stomach heaves and I nearly vomit in self-disgust.

Once it's over, Quinn showers me with tears and kisses. 'Thank you,' she says, over and over. 'Thank you.' Those are her final words to me.

I gather the remains of our camp and hold Quinn tight as we enter the palace. I no longer care who sees me.