Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get this up. I really would like some input on this. I'm not sure if I like it the way it is or not. Hopefully, I'll see you in my Inbox! :)

Chapter 6: Friendly Fire

The Barbarians were released later that night per the demands of the Freljordians, while the Noxians, in return were fed and allowed to rest. Most of the soldiers outwardly resented needing help from the natives, but their eyes betrayed their true yearnings for a hot plate and a safe bed, both of which they took hungrily from the Avarosans who begrudgingly passed out bowls of steaming broth with stewed vegetables from the greenhouse and small chunks of dried rabbit. In striking contrast to the expressions of the Avarosans and the Noxians, were the expressions of the Barbarian families as the line of prisoners filed through the city gate. Not a single Barbarian could contain the hopeful smiles of weary travelers being reunited with loved ones. None, that was, except for Tryndamere.

"Hey," Ashe greeted him quietly, coming to stand next to him at the edge of the bazaar. "You should be happier. We won!"

He gave her an unimpressed hmph before crossing his arms and turning in to face her slightly.

"Did we, though?"

"They've released your people, Tryndamere. They'll be out of our hair by noon tomorrow. What more do you want?"

"You can't possibly give me what I want. Not through bargains or bribes. Not through battle or bloodshed. No one can give me what I want," he mumbled distantly.

"Tryndamere," Ashe said, questioning his tone. He simply glanced into the bazaar where the last of the prisoners had just come through. Bryndle strode up to them and made his report.

"That's the last of them, sir. All of the trucks have been checked. All of the tents have been emptied."

"How many?" Tryndamere asked, avoiding meeting the eyes of either companion.

"There are still thirty-six unaccounted for."

Tryndamere nodded, glanced at Ashe, the bazaar, and then turned silently to leave. But Ashe didn't notice his absence. She'd followed his gaze into the square where she saw, surrounded by the joyous reunions, a woman sitting on her knees staring out the now closing city gate, crying. Bryndle caught Ashe's gaze.

"Her son was thought to be among the Noxians."

"And he wasn't?" Ashe whispered back, almost afraid to ask.

"Well, he isn't now."

It was one thing to know that a loved one had been killed in battle. It had happened to Ashe time and time again since she'd been very young. Her father had been killed in battle when she was only four years old. And then her mother when she'd been fifteen. There were a few friends and relatives in between as well. But, between the five years of peace in Avarosa and the fake dying on the Rift, Ashe wasn't really sure if she knew what death was anymore. Her heart hadn't skipped a beat, even as Katarina's cool blade lay in wait at the hollow of her throat.

When Ashe turned back to Bryndle, he was gone and she was alone at the edge of the bazaar. The Barbarians were slowing moving back up to where their camps were pitched at the Estate and a few Avarosans were securing the gate and taking up posts on the walls. Ashe felt a warm presence suddenly step up a bit too closely behind her.

"My Queen?" Weylan reached out and touched Ashe on the shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Ashe peaked over her shoulder at him, but said nothing.

"You look exhausted, Your Highness. Please, allow me to escort you to your room?"

Ashe nodded and grasped his outstretched arm at the elbow. They walked in silence to the castle, passing by the Elder's Den, the place the tribe elders went to be cared for and doted on by the doctors and nursing staff in the city. Alvar, Leoné and Thobias sat talking excitedly to one another on the porch of the cozy rest house. When Alvar saw Ashe and Weylan walking by, a curious, possibly even concerned frown, crossed his face. When he noticed Ashe looking at him, he smiled, placed a hand over his heart in a salute and turned quickly back to the conversation.

Weird, Ashe thought. They're usually so much less… lively.

"They're staying the night, I suppose?" Ashe asked Weylan.

"Yes ma'am. They've decided to see the Noxians off in the morning."

"There's still one with no room," Ashe sighed as the two of them spotted Tryndamere in the courtyard checking in on people. His demeanor now was completely different. He was laughing heartily with his men and shaking the hands of Barbarians he hadn't seen since they'd been taken by Noxus. He noticed Ashe and Weylan and came sauntering over to them.

"Your spirits are much higher, King Tryndamere," Ashe noted.

"That's what spirits do to the spirit, darling," he said, holding up a bottle of some hideously wreaking liquor. Ashe wasn't a drinker, and preferred for her men not to drink, particularly when a certain War-State was sleeping less than fifty feet from the front gate of the city.

"Tryndamere, is all that really necessary?" Ashe asked him, unable to hide her disdain for the substance that swished in the glass bottle.

"You wanted me to be happy, right? Well this is what makes me happy, Snowflake. Good drink with good friends and pretty ladies. I'm not hard to please."

"I thought no one could give you what you want a minute ago. And now you've got all you need? Booze and women?" Weylan shifted uneasily at Ashe's side as she hissed at the King. "And don't you ever call me Snowflake again."

"Pardon me for interjecting, but I don't think this is really the time, Your Highness." Weylan shot a quick glance around the courtyard. People were staring.

"Just don't do anything stupid," Ashe finished, re-composing herself. She couldn't figure it out, but there was just something about Tryndamere that made her lose control of her temper. It was like her rage fed from his.

"This isn't my first snowstorm, Your Majesty. I can handle myself. Now if you'll excuse me…"

And with that, Tryndamere took a swig of the concoction in the bottle and turned to follow closely behind a Barbarian woman that had walked by and winked at him. Ashe rolled her eyes.

"Shall we?" Weylan offered his elbow to her again.

Ashe nodded and continued into the castle with Weylan. The halls were much less crowded than they'd been earlier that day. Everyone had either gone to their rooms or were outside in the courtyard celebrating with Tryndamere.

"I think you can log today away as a success, Your Highness," Weylan smiled.

"For Avarosa, yes, I suppose," she replied.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's just something Tryndamere said. It made me realize how disconnected the League makes me feel from reality; how abstract the games make death seem. I've died a million times over, sometimes to the same blade that found its way to my throat this afternoon. And I didn't even think once that she'd actually kill me. But at the same time, I know she would if the League didn't have so much power over Noxus. With me and Tryndamere out of the way, Noxus could easily take over the Freljord," Ashe paused and searched Weylan's face discreetly through the curtain of white hair that hid her face from him. She hadn't talked like this with him for some time. To be honest, in the last five years, she'd only talked like this with Anivia.

"I think maybe you should spend some time away from the Institute," Weylan suggested, smiling to himself as he led her to the staircase. "You could take a vacation of sorts. Spend time hunting and riding like we used to do when we were kids… I know everyone around here would like it if you were in town more often."

Ashe scoffed.

"Yeah. Right. The elders would just love it if I were around more often to pick at, wouldn't they?"

"I think they truly mean well, Your Highness. They want to follow you, but they're so strongly bound to the old ways… Give them more time. Five years may be a quarter of our lives, but it's barely a thirteenth of theirs. Even smaller for a few of them," he lightly jabbed his elbow at Ashe's side, making fun of the elders for being so old.

"You really think good old Alvar will come around some day?" Ashe asked, laughing.

"No. I think good old Alvar will be gone someday. For Avarosa's sake, he's seventy-eight years old already! And his heart is bitter and cold. I suppose a lifetime in the old Freljord could to that to a man. Not to mention how many children and grandchildren he lost on the way."

Ashe remained silent as they walked through the corridors. Weylan was Alvar's youngest, and only grandson. Of Alvar's own six children, only two of them were still alive; Weylan's aunt and his mother. The four brothers passed away in the same conflict Ashe's father was killed in. Weylan's dad died in the same battle that orphaned the Queen. All of Weylan's older cousins, whose ages ranged from late twenties to early forties, were women.

Alvar must put a lot of pressure on him, Ashe thought. But surely Weylan would care more than this if his grandfather were to die.

"Well, here we are," Weylan sighed as they reached Ashe's door.

"Thank you for walking with me, Captain," Ashe dipped her head and slipped her hand out of the crook of Weylan's elbow.

"It was my pleasure, Your Highness," he bowed.

Ashe couldn't help but feel that these interactions between her and her old friend had become more of a rehearsed formality than words with actual meaning. She also couldn't help but remember how Weylan had slipped last night and called her by her name instead of using one of her royal titles; or how natural it felt for him to flirt like that with her. She shook the thoughts from her head and reached for the knob next to her, but was surprised to find that the brass felt strikingly similar to the back of someone's hand. But for some reason, though both of them were genuinely surprised at the unanticipated contact, neither the Frost Archer, nor the Captain pulled away. They both just stared helplessly at the doorknob where Ashe's delicate fingers laid lightly over Weylan's knuckles.

Ashe could sense an internal debate going on behind Weylan's amber irises before she slowly pulled her hand away and placed it at her side.

"Sorry," she chuckled nervously. "You can open it."

Another curious expression crossed Weylan's face before he ultimately decided that whatever he was thinking was ridiculous. He turned the knob and gently pushed the door open for the Queen.

Ashe could feel her face glowing red, but was consoled by the pink flush across Weylan's cheeks. They both knew they'd lingered too long.

"Well, goodnight," he offered, stepping away from her.

"Yes, goodnight Captain," she agreed as she slipped through the door. Once safely on the other side, she pressed her ear hard to the pinewood. All she heard was a sigh and retreating footsteps.

Questions raced around her head as Ashe changed into her nightgown and walked across the room to the now moonlit window. It was dark in her room, but the night sky cast a misty blue haze that illuminated Ashe's baby blue gown, revealing the darker shadow of the Queen's body beneath it. She caught herself in the floor-length mirror on the adjacent wall and turned to a side view.

When did that happen? Ashe asked herself, running a hand down her side. Last time I checked, I was a bit more stick-like. She turned back to face the mirror and pulled the garment close to her figure. She didn't remember when she went from wooden plank to hour glass in shape, but she supposed she couldn't remember a lot of things about herself. Everything was always about Avarosa and Freljord. She couldn't even remember if they celebrated her last birthday. When is my birthday?

Glancing at a calendar hanging across the room, she was relieved to find that it was only March. Her birthday was in November. Or was it December?

Ashe began feeling even more unsettled. I can't even remember my own birthday. Maybe it is time for a vacation. She sat down at the edge of her bed and ran a tired hand through her silvery hair before slipping under the covers and closing her eyes. As she drifted off, her mind wandered back to Weylan. Why had I never noticed how handsome he was?

A timid knock came early at Ashe's door, but the Frost Archer was already lying awake in her bed. She contemplated feigning sleep for a few seconds before the visitor cracked the door and whispered into the room.

"Ashe?" She had to strain to hear him, but Ashe knew who the voice belonged to. And yet, she had no idea how to respond.

"Tryndamere?" What is he doing up here?

"Can I come in for a second?" he said, pushing the door open a little further.

"Well I suppose you're going to come in anyway," Ashe grumbled, rolling her eyes and sitting up in her bed. The sun was just barely peeking through Ashe's window, making her room hardly light enough to see any detail on the Barbarian's body, but she could definitely make out his silhouette as he entered the room and sat down at the foot of her bed.

"Can I help you, King Tryndamere?" She wrinkled her nose at him. He reeked of alcohol, though he seemed to be sober at this point in time.

"I just… I wanted to…" he hesitated as if he didn't know exactly how to word what he was thinking.

Ashe pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on her arms that she crossed over her knees.

"Just… Thank you," he finally finished.

"For what?" she asked.

"For the stand you took for us yesterday. For inspiring cooperation among our people. For working to bring the Freljord back together."

Ashe was dumbfounded. Is he still drunk?

"Are you feeling okay? Because it kind of sounded like you were thanking me for bringing peace to your people."

"Don't push it, Princess," Tryndamere mumbled. "I had a good talk with Bryndle last night and he said you were pretty upset about that woman in the bazaar whose son didn't come back. I felt bad for bursting your bubble, especially after the shit you went through to bring our loved ones home to us. So, I'll say it again. Thank you, Ashe."

"You're… You're welcome…" she stammered. Is this a joke right now? He actually thinks I buy for a minute that he cares about my feelings?

"Anyway, I'm gonna head back down to the gate to see the Noxians on their way. They're all pretty much packed. I'll see you around."

And with that, the giant man stood, turned to the door, and walked out, but not before awkwardly bumping into Weylan, who'd just grabbed the door handle.

"I'm sorry Your Highness," Weylan apologized to Tryndamere, "I just saw the Queen's door open and came to close it. I didn't know you were here."

"It's fine, Captain. You do a fine job taking care of things around here. I admire your loyalty. We're lucky to have you around."

The growing light in the room illuminated Weylan's face from behind the Barbarian King. What was that? On his face? Weylan's features flashed to an expression of something Ashe could only describe as discomfort at Tryndamere's words. The King caught it too.

"Something the matter? I didn't mean to unsettle you," he assured Weylan, but to no avail, according to the skeptical glance he shot the man in front of him.

"No, sir. Everything's fine," Weylan said finally, stepping aside to let Tryndamere pass.

"See you," Tryndamere waved as he walked back down the hallway.

Weylan slid through the door before closing it lightly behind him. Ashe sighed exaggeratedly.

"Gosh, can't a Queen just get some sleep on her day off?" she smiled. But Weylan didn't return the favor. He stood, arms folded in front of him defensively, like a child who didn't want to play with anyone anymore. Ashe tilted her head and patted the bed next to her, but he didn't budge.

"Weylan?" she asked softly. "What's wrong?"

"Is it that hard to figure out? Or does it really not bother you that a half-clothed Barbarian with a reputation like his just left your room at six-o-clock in the morning?"

"I don't understand," Ashe replied, confused. Why is he so angry?

"I don't understand how you don't understand," he shot back, even more angrily. "Did you not listen to a single word Katarina said yesterday? Tryndamere does favors for favors. You expect everyone to believe that you called in a favor from him and didn't have to give him one in return? Do you expect me to believe he wasn't up here to collect on your end of the deal?"

Weylan's voice shook as he spoke. That's when it hit her. He wasn't just angry. He was jealous. And very hurt, too.

"Weylan, please," Ashe got out of her bed and approached him slowly. He flinched away from her as she reached out to his arm. "Tryndamere came up here to thank me for sticking with him and his tribe last night. That's all. Now, what's this really about. You can tell me. It's okay."

Ashe placed a hand on his opposite elbow and turned him to her. His muscles relaxed at her touch, but his eyes did not lose their emotion. As Ashe breathed to say something else, the words were caught in her throat and immediately discarded from her brain when she felt two strong arms wrap carefully around her waist and pull her closer to the searching eyes of her best friend. She raised a hand to his cheek, but couldn't wipe the surprise off her face.

"Now do you understand?" Weylan whispered urgently. Ashe nodded hesitantly. What in Runeterra – Weylan didn't let Ashe have time to question it. He leaned down and pressed gentle lips to Ashe's cheek.

"Weylan, I… had no idea. What would the elders think?"

Weylan pulled himself away from her to look at her. His face had changed completely. He no longer looked angry or sad; only contentment glowed from his honey-tinted eyes. He raised a hand to Ashe's forehead and swept her frosty veil of hair behind her ear before cupping her face and tracing her lips with his thumb. She could see the gears turning again in his head. His want for her intimidated her and empowered her at the same time.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you this," Weylan continued, ignoring her question. "Ashe, I love you. Every time your eyes meet mine, my heart takes off and bounces around in my chest. Your voice enchants me, your touch sets me aflame. You are noble, fair, and kind and the most beautiful woman in all Runeterra. I can't go two minutes without thinking about you…"

He stopped, suddenly worried that Ashe wouldn't react the way he'd always hoped she would. But she stood, silent and listening, but more importantly still in his arms. He sighed, relieved before he went on.

"I was able to control myself, until last night. You left your hand deliberately on top of mine on your doorknob. You didn't pull away."

The heat of Weylan's hand on Ashe's face was too alluring to her that she couldn't help but lean into him and close her eyes.

"I didn't want to," she said finally. She was met by an onslaught of small, playful, happy kisses all over her face. They both laughed at Weylan's giddiness. When their gazes crossed again, Weylan's focus dropped curiously back to the Frost Archer's lips. When she realized what he wanted, she felt her face flush.

"I have to admit," she smiled, sheepishly; "I've never kissed a boy before."

"Is that so?" Weylan raised an eyebrow mischievously. "It's never too late to learn."

He pushed the hand on Ashe's cheek back into her hair and gingerly wrapped his fingers in the silky tresses at the back of her head. Ashe closed her eyes and let Weylan direct her to where he wanted her to be. He tenderly pressed his lips into the contours of hers, melting her into his arms. As he pulled away, Ashe realized suddenly that she was still in her nightgown and that the morning light was sufficiently lighting her room now. Blushing, she stepped out of his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest.

"So, now what?" she asked, awkwardly.

"I'm not really sure. It's not very professional to date the Captain of your Royal Guard, is it?" Weylan laughed, too happy to be put off.

"It's not really customary, no," Ashe smiled. "I'll see you downstairs."

"Make sure you put that blush away first," he poked.

Well that didn't help it go away, now did it? she thought.

"Go get breakfast," she ordered, playfully pushing him to her door. He resisted her shoving just long enough to place a kiss on top of her head before shutting the door behind him.

How? she thought, biting her bottom lip. How had I not seen it before?