A/N: Thank you so much for the favorites, follows and reviews! It makes my day to see that people are interested in this story, and I hope that you will enjoy this update.

Eight years later

"Mama!"

Ashe steeled her heart as her son called for her, refusing to even turn around to look at him. It was painful, taking long strides away from the child she loved with all her heart, but there was no other choice.

The idea Katarina had given to her worked perfectly - the Emperor was so besotted with her that he refused to consider a life without her. It took only one threat for him to return both her children, defying his mother's will with a stupid smile on his face.

For a brief while, Ashe was happy. Her children were sweet and, to her relief, more like her than their father, despite the Queen Regent's best efforts to corrupt them. Asger was a fuss-free, friendly baby, and Astrid, though energetic, was not quite terrible as toddlers were made out to be - she behaved in the way Ashe's mother said she had as a child. Curious, bright but gentle, Astrid's delicate actions clashed almost hilariously with her barbarian features.

In that blissful time, Katarina did not visit even once, and Ashe was surprised to find herself missing Death's presence even as she laughed with her children, teaching Astrid about the constellations in the winter sky or reading history books to a curious, eager Asger. Sometimes, as she ran her fingers through her sleeping son's hair, she found herself wondering what life would be like if Katarina was still by her side.

Unfortunately, her joy was short-lived, and it took barely four years for the Queen Regent to format a cruel revenge. Constant attacks, dangerous "training" - Ashe had to always be alert, always looking over her shoulder, and whatever soldiers and mercenaries that had been sent after her never considered the safety of her children. The servants did what they could, but they were as weak as she had expected, and could do little but bleed and die in front of her terrified children.

Despite her best efforts, Ashe knew she could not protect them forever, and the day Astrid got badly wounded in an attack, she finally made the painful decision she had been dancing around. She could not risk her own children, no matter how much she longed to be with them, and immediately, she began to distance herself from them.

It was painful not to respond to their cries, to send servants and teachers to spend time with them in her place, to reduce contact with them so they would have minimal risk of being swept up in one of the Queen Regent's dirty "training activities". Her despair and anger returned, swirling in her chest, and this time…

This time, she actively called for Death, for Katarina, begging her to answer, to make her feel less alone.

And, of course, she came. After all, Death was the only god who came when called.

While there was no quick fix this time, no magical idea that could stop the Queen Regent in her tracks, having Katarina around was an immeasurably large comfort. With Death on her side, she knew that there was no risk of succumbing to any soldier or assassin, and she often found herself shaking her head with a rebuking chuckle when an arrow that should have obviously missed found its mark regardless.

"You're being biased," she would say, and a fluttering of silver hair or the edge of a royal purple coat would be the only sign of the god's sheepish embarrassment.

Of course, with Death on her side, she knew that her children could probably be spared from the world of darkness, but that did not mean they were safe from hurt, from fear, from things that were honestly worse than death itself. She did not want them alive but scarred in more ways than one, wary of every rustle and passing shadow, and the only way to avoid that was to keep her distance.

The last few years had passed that way, hope and despair delicately balanced on a knife's edge, the god of death herself granting her the strength to stay alive.

However, today, there was a much more pressing matter than the Queen Regent's attempts at assassination. She had heard, both from Katarina herself and the raven that had come from her homeland, that her parents had perished tragically in an accident out on the sea ice. Without any other heir, as Ashe had been an only child, she was now the Empress of Auskilde, heiress to the Temple of Avarosa, and her husband and children logically would inherit similar titles.

Leaping on the opportunity to expand Trelleby's twisted influence, the Queen Regent had insisted on a fancy crowning ceremony in Auskilde, where they would also announce the change in law to follow Trellian customs. The Avarosans would not be pleased about it, Ashe knew, but they were a peaceful, quiet people that would not be able to resist the Queen Regent's army.

Auskilde would suffer, just like the weak in Trelleby, and there was little Ashe could do about it. Despite all her campaigning, she had achieved little against the rigid royal court, even though she had won herself many supporters among the citizens. She had managed to ease the lives of those who had shown strength once, introducing the concept of gratitude into the court, but she could not find a way to make them feel that the wellbeing of those who had always been weak was of any concern.

What could she do now? She could hardly even protect her own children; she had to ignore the desperate cries of her son as the servants stopped him from chasing after her. She had to linger outside the doorway to her daughter's bedroom as a servant read her stories, aware that if she entered, she would bring the shadows of the Queen Regent's hatred right into her daughter's sanctuary.

There had to be a new angle, a new dagger she could use, or a new way she could utilize the ones she already had, she just had to find it…

"Mama…" he sounded so crestfallen, as if he blamed himself for how cold she was to him, but she could not turn back.

She loved him too much to drag him into the pointless war she was waging against the Queen Regent. Astrid, on the other hand, took the distance in her stride - fiercely independent, she reveled in her newfound solitude, using her free time to do whatever she wanted. It warmed Ashe's heart to see her daughter so happy, even with minimal attention from either parent, but Asger was the opposite.

He craved his parents' attention, and since Tryndamere rarely gave him any, his mother was all he had left. And now, for a reason he could not comprehend, he was losing her too.

"My poor boy..." she murmured, wishing she could take him into her arms and just pretend the rest of the world did not exist.

However, she had no such luxury. She knew how tensions in Auskilde were reaching a boiling point over the presence of Trellian soldiers on their soil, she knew how they felt betrayed by her, as if she had willingly sold them to Trelleby. Reports had come in of a huge, hulking bear of a man that had been defending the weak and the young, fiercely declaring that Auskilde followed the will of Avarosa and only the Empress Ashe herself could tell them what to do.

The poor, misguided man, Ashe thought, blindly and desperately placing his trust in her. She could not stand up against Trelleby any more than he could, she had been given to them as a bargaining chip and her power and influence in the court were minimal.

Her husband would only bend so far to accommodate her, still blindly devoted to his mother, and the rest of the Trellian royals and nobles loathed her for her foreign blood, weak ideals and strange culture. She was boxed in, as much as she had been before, and there was little hope in achieving anything of substance.

As she approached the royal carriage, the door held open by her smiling husband, she felt a familiar cold settling in her chest, a silent promise. Death would be there for her when she called, no matter how far away she went…

It was a strangely comforting thought.

A new door had been opened in the castle, Death could feel the familiar pull of its sweetness. Over the years, she had felt it grow, a hesitant seed that had just blossomed into a fierce thicket of unforgiving thorns.

Who was it, she wondered, playing that siren song of despair? Who was it that was screaming out her name, desperate for solace in the arms of eternal darkness?

Closing her eyes, she followed it, letting the melody drag her through the shadows and into the light.

"Mama…"

She froze as she heard that pained, little voice - it was one she had heard in passing as she watched over her Princess. It could not be, but it was: the one crying out for her was closer than she thought.

The Crown Prince, Asger.

"Mama, why did you leave me alone?" he whimpered, curled alone on the floor of his vast nursery, surrounded by toys that provided him no company. "Did I do something wrong?"

Lonely, he was so lonely, and the poor child blamed himself for it. Death could sense it, feel every painful inch of it, and she wondered if she should warn the child's mother of how much pain he was in. The servants were no good company, they just did as they were told and little else, leaving the boy lonelier than ever - he often spent weeks without any meaningful interaction or conversation.

"Is it bad for me to be with you?" he whispered, hugging his knees; it seemed that the servants had told him he was only a distraction to his mother, like a foolish cat twisting underfoot.

If only he knew how much his mother loved him, how fiercely she wished to protect him… but he was far too young to understand, and Katarina was sure that Ashe would not want her son to grow suspicious and hard against his own grandmother. It was illogical, trying to shield the boy from the true nature of the Queen Regent, but it was not Katarina's place to speak out against it. She was a bystander, a silent god watching the pointless games of mortals, and she knew the rules prevented her from directly interfering with any light that did not come to her first.

In the past, that had been Ashe and only Ashe, but now, it included her young son, a boy too young to even understand what his heart was crying for.

"It's cold," he whimpered, his voice echoing a little in the silent room, "Please… don't leave me by myself…"

Slipping from the shadows, Katarina spoke, "You are not alone, little one."

He jumped, scrambling to his feet and staring at her with wide eyes, "Who are you?"

Of course, he was afraid - anyone would be, if a stranger were to appear out of nowhere. However, he seemed too young to really be aware of what she was; the unnatural shade of her hair, the paleness of her skin, the way her edges of her suit seemed to dance in and out of existence, none of it really caught his attention.

"A friend," she reassured, gently holding out a hand to him. "Should you call for me, I will come."

Unable to contain his excitement, Asger ran up to her, clutching her hand in both of his, "Really? You'll really be my friend?"

Her heart ached for him, an innocent soul caught up in a war that he had nothing to do with. Even though she had welcomed younger, sweeter children to the realm of darkness, he was different - was it because she loved his mother more than anything else?

"Of course, little Prince," she bent down to meet his eyes properly, the shadows in his eyes dancing in a way she did not quite like.

He was not like his mother, he did not have that indignant fire that kept her going throughout all those difficult, painful years. Death recognized the way the darkness shone in him, even through his wide, childish smile. Asger had not been granted the luxury of a stable childhood, and the shaky foundations of his mind would come back to haunt him.

Would she be able to save him, or would she be forced to grant him what he desired, just as her job dictated?

"Have you been outside the walls?" the boy asked her suddenly, his tone painfully earnest.

"I have," she replied, wondering where he was going with this. Did he want to hear stories of the world beyond Trelleborg, where he had been contained, or the world beyond the icy cold of the Freljord? Would he be entertained by grand tales of adventure, the way children normally were?

To her surprise, Asger wrung his hands and looked up at her with nervous, worried eyes, "Is it true that the people are suffering?"

Katarina blinked, slowly considering her options. Did Ashe want to hide the cruelty of the monarchy from her son, too, or was it fine to tell him the truth? Was he too young to know what was eating away at his kingdom, to understand the pain that the citizens were experiencing? She did not want to add to the boy's despair, even if it was what her job entailed - Ashe loved him, and would be heartbroken if he died.

"Mama told me," he added quietly, "I saw a lady come to see Father, and after she was taken away crying, I asked Mama."

So this was a truth she allowed her son, Katarina thought as she rose. Touching the boy's arm, she asked, "Do you want to see for yourself?"

Hesitant excitement blossomed in his ice blue eyes, "Can I really?"

Katarina nodded, pulling the shadows tight around them. He was not quite properly dressed for the cold outside the castle, even though it was summer, but it was easy enough to disconnect his physical body from the world. It was what she intended to do, anyway, to prevent anyone from seeing or harming him, in case he were to do something foolish.

"Prepare yourself," she warned, and with that, they sank into the icy embrace of darkness.

The shadows welcomed them both without hesitation, carrying them along the heavily guarded halls and out the front gate of Trelleborg, until Katarina commanded they release them once again.

The stench was the first thing to hit them - the heavy smell of sickness, dirt and despair mixed together in the icy air. Asger gagged, clinging nervously to her trouser leg as he looked around, eyes growing wet with tears.

Slumped motionlessly against a wall was a young woman, pale and obviously sick, her desperate young son trying to warm her up with his little body and pleading for her to stay awake. Not far away, a skinny young man with only one arm was rifling through the garbage, searching for scraps that he was not likely to find. Darting in and out of the various alleyways were a myriad of children, many of them orphans, scrambling and fighting for anything they found that could be of any use.

Asger was, understandably, absolutely horrified, tears streaming down his cheeks as he whispered, "Is this… is this what Mama meant?"

It was definitely worse than he had imagined, not that a sheltered young Prince would really be able to picture the extent of suffering his poorest citizens endured. He had never gone without a meal in his life, they were always warm and filling and ready for him when he wanted them. He had never been freezing and homeless, desperate for a place out of the wind and snow, for his warm bed was always waiting to receive him. Despite that, he was trying, he was hurting, and it surprised her.

"I believe so, little Prince," Katarina replied, gently pushing him forward. "Go, seek the truth for yourself, with your own eyes."

Nervously, he stepped out, clearly wondering if he would be targeted for his clean clothes, his well-kept hair and healthy body. Once he noticed that they did not seem to be aware of him, the little Prince grew braver, stepping into houses and poking around piled debris that seemed to serve as hiding places for arctic stoats and other small, hungry animals.

The more he saw, the more despair he felt, and Katarina was taken aback by how much someone so young cared for others. Constantly, he turned to her, asking if there was any way he could bring the plentiful food and luxurious clothes from the castle to these people, despairing when he realized that his father had explicitly forbidden it.

"Can't you sneak them out, like you did with us?" he pleaded.

Unfortunately, she could not, even if she wanted to help. She could not delay death, only hasten it - what she had done to Ashe had been a taboo too big to ever risk doing again. The rules of life and death existed for a reason, and if she went around flippantly breaking them, she would have to be destroyed for the sake of balance.

"Only the Emperor can change this," she told him, "But your father refuses to send help to the weak."

"But, they're suffering…!"

"They are," Katarina acknowledged, resting a hand on his shoulder, "And as the Crown Prince, you might someday be able to save them, when you become the Emperor."

Asger's eyes widened at that, hope flaring so suddenly in his chest, it nearly severed his connection to the shadows that protected him. "I will save them, I promise!"

Lingering outside the hallway of her son's bedroom, Ashe listened silently as her son interrogated the servant putting him to bed, demanding to know why more was not being done for the suffering citizens of Trelleby. She was so proud of him, her kindhearted little boy, and wished she could embrace him and reassure him. However, she knew it was not a good time - the Queen Regent had been aware of what Ashe had been doing, keeping her children out of their fight, and was waiting on the moment she could drag them back in.

A familiar cold tugged at her chest, and she whirled around to find Katarina, tall and regal before her, expression flat and cold as if carved from stone.

Panic rose in Ashe's chest - was she here as Death, was she here because she had business with Asger?

"Stay away from my son," she hissed, shifting to put herself between Katarina and the door, even though she knew it would not do anything to stop her.

"I am not here for your son's life," Katarina raised her hands in what seemed like surrender, "I have been called."

Ashe relaxed a little at that, reaching out for her hand as she asked, "By me?"

Katarina looked almost startled as she nodded mutely - it seemed that physical contact was not something she was accustomed to receiving, not that it came as any sort of surprise. She was the Emperor of Darkness, and that title obviously did not come with much warmth or appreciation. Who would be foolish enough to reach out for Death?

Me, Ashe thought as she leaned into Katarina, feeling the unnatural chill of her body fanning out against her skin. She trusted Katarina, she trusted Death, because she had been the only solace in the hostile whirlwind that had been her married life. She had fought alone for so many years, would it be alright to try relying on someone else now?

"Will you please help me?" Ashe pleaded, subconsciously entwining their fingers, "I need you."

Katarina gulped audibly, an unexpectedly adorable action from a deadly immortal, "If it is a wish I can grant, my Princess, it will be so."

"My people are suffering," she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling, "Is there some way you can help them?"

For a moment, Katarina was silent, thoughtful - was it something that was within her realm of control? It was probably too selfish of her to ask Death to delay the deaths of so many people… that is, if it wasn't against some giant godly rulebook in the sky.

"It is a wish I can grant," she finally said, much to Ashe's surprise, "To end one's suffering without decreasing death merely requires passing that suffering to someone else."

Again, with those cryptic words - were immortals required to speak like that, or was it just some sort of quirk of hers? What exactly did Katarina have in mind, was it something she even wanted to ask about? Was it a fair trade-off, hurting people she probably did not know for the sake of those she was supposed to help?

Regardless, Katarina was willing to try for her sake, and that was all Ashe needed to know. She was willing to go out of her way to think of strange things, to bend over backwards just to grant her wish - what else could she ask for?

She flung her arms around the god's neck, "Thank you so much."

Hesitantly, Katarina wrapped her arms around Ashe's waist, resting her chin on top of her head as she breathed, "Anything for you, my Princess."

In the shadows of the slum, Katarina sat casually in a noisy little stall, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the other scruffy patrons in her impeccable, deep purple suit. A group of people were huddled against the far side of the stall, gathered around a single pathetic bowl of soup. While most of them were just as scrawny as anyone else in this hellhole, among them stood a single, hulking man with biceps almost as large as Katarina's head.

They were eyeing her warily, of course, she stood out too plainly for them to ignore her. And that was exactly what she wanted - they needed to come to her, to ask her what she was doing, to break the wall of light that kept her from approaching them.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you with the suit!"

Katarina smiled to herself, slowly turning around and raising an eyebrow. "Me?"

As expected, they trembled at the sound of her voice, unable to take their eyes off the curve of her smug smile. Ignoring the underlings, she strode up to the one with the burning eyes, the muscular man with the heart of gold that abandoned the life of luxury someone as strong as him could easily obtain.

He was vital to what Ashe was asking for, though Katarina could not guarantee any results. She was merely going to start a few sparks in the dry grass, hope for it to catch, and wait until it became a wildfire no one could stop.

"I heard you speaking of a revolution, and I would like to offer my strength…"