The West Garden of the Institute was as lush as Riven had expected after spending a day in the extravagant place. She sat silently surrounded by the pale luminescent beauty of countless blossoms bathed in moonlight. A fellow champion, Diana, lurked in a far corner of the area and paid Riven no mind.

A fellow champion.

Yes, the two of them still had to complete their evaluations with head summoners, be briefed and otherwise prepared for League matches...But they'd still made it. Despite their success of joining the League, despite their newfound immunity, Riven could not feel anything but the burden that everything else that had taken place that day piled on her. It had not been all bad, but the future began to weigh heavily on the exile. The gardens had drawn her in, a result of her desire to be alone. The only reason she was sitting out here instead of in her room was the deep apprehension she felt at the prospect of walking the dormitory halls. She let out a small exhale and quicksilver petals quaked with the breeze that mimicked her breath.

Riven rested her elbow on a knee and covered her forehead with a hand, letting her arm support its weight.

Emotions were never supposed to get in the way.

Even if she was 'Independent' as a champion, she had been a Noxian. Riven was still true to what she believed a pure Noxus would be...and could not stand for what it was now. The day ran through her head again and Riven was torn between cursing her idealism and wondering how she could have known what it would have been like. She was left even more unsure of how to proceed. It would be incredibly difficult to maneuver socially and politically here at all, Riven realized. That wasn't even considering all that she knew needed to heal, both physically and mentally.

When the League was founded, there had been a select few champions from each city-state sent to represent their collective interests. However, as time wore on and conflicts came and went, grew and ebbed away, influence became imperative. Noxus now had several champions, as did every one else.

They thought she was dead; that should speak for itself. But Noxus prefers a dead soldier to a deserter–no exceptions. It would have been better for her to walk back into their poison, off herself–or better yet, be executed, than live! There were perhaps a few of her past comrades that felt differently but the strength that was against her was what mattered–Noxian High Command.

In her mind she was a survivor; to them she was traitor.


Following their meeting with the High Summoner, an assistant summoner guided Riven and Yasuo through the Institute to their rooms in the Independent Wing. On the way, the summoner giving the small tour suggested–not without a painfully weak joke–that they stop through the dining hall for familiarity's sake.

If she hadn't been horrified, Riven might have found the way many champions naturally grouped by faction amusing and reminiscent of her days in basic training camp.

It was with a detached sense of trepidation Riven realised exactly how bad this was. The piercing shock of her extreme distress and outrage hit full force, twisting together in her gut. If she could move, it would be to vomit.

Swain, and at the other end of the table, LeBlanc. Darius had turned from ignoring Draven across from himself, and next to him sat the DuCouteau siblings. Talon was standing behind Katarina, and prior to freezing in place had been moving toward his own seat. All but LeBlanc looked as if they'd seen a ghost. Talon's jaw dropped. Cassiopeia turned after a beat to whisper something to Katarina, but the assassin didn't respond. How could she?

It was an exceedingly rare display of open emotion from the Noxians of the Institute, stealing the attention from the rest of the room's occupants and confusing them all at the same time.

After an indeterminate amount of time Riven drew a breath and tried to ignore her heart pounding in her ears. It was barely a confrontation and she was nearly shaking. Half of these people were her enemies; the other half were in the very exclusive group Riven liked to call Not-Dead-Friends.

The summoner hadn't taken pause during the moment that passed–so Riven attempted to shake it off as she walked to catch up with the man and Yasuo, who had been looking back for her.

It couldn't be shaken off.

Riven could feel Swain's eyes narrow as they exited the hall.


Yasuo thanked the summoner who had shown him to his room and stepped inside. It was a little ridiculous what they could pull off with just over an hour and presumably some magic upon learning his origins. As he looked around he discovered the room was less of a 'room' and more of a suite. It was nice, and reminded him faintly of the standard dormitory at the Academy. There were faint, pale floral designs in keeping with Ionian tradition, as well as the typical floor mats and sliding doors. Dark accents offset the light theme of the room.

As he paced through the suite a few times, slowly taking it all in, he noted the gentle scent of Ionia's Basu lotus. A nice touch, he noted with a small smile.

It did not last long, however, as his thoughts quickly shifted from his new accommodations to what was missing from them.

Riven.

He had noticed how extremely uncomfortable her encounter with what he assumed the Noxians in the dining hall had been. The last he had seen of her had been near the training area, where he'd been shuffled along by the summoner who had been guiding them after she insisted on staying. His room was nearby, so he'd simply split off with another helper that their original guide asked to help Yasuo.

Lacking anything to do after he arranged his meager belongings in his bedroom, Yasuo moved to step out and find either Riven or something to occupy himself, all the while wondering how she was doing.


Yasuo had just broken left down another hall into the wing that he'd be staying in. His room had been ready first, so Riven opted to spend some time in the sparring rooms until hers was as well. She found herself ignoring the excited babbling of the summoner beside her; half due to her complete lack of interest in his 'tour', and half due to her state of mental shock.

"Since we are, well, the Institute of War, we have made it a priority to provide any and all legal and appropriate training services to our champions. Are you a mage, or...?"

Riven's mind was elsewhere, but trained back onto the summoner when he addressed her with a question.

As she met his questioning glance with an entirely straight face, the man blinked and his eyes fell on the remnants of her enormous sword. It was painfully obvious.

"Uh...right. A warrior then." He cleared his throat and fell silent as they continued past several more doors to finally come upon the physical training area. The man announced it weakly then shuffled away.

Riven grasped the handle and pushed. After finding it required what seemed like double the force to open, she stepped in.

Gods, this could not be real. Riven felt her jaw clinch with tension as she spotted one of the only occupants of the room. He was tall as always, and was clad in a sleeveless black tunic and pants. He was likely here for the weights if he wasn't wearing that armor that seemed to double his size. The outfit mirrored his onyx locks, save for the white streak across the side of his hair.

The hulking man turned and met her crimson eyes with his of dark brown.

If Swain had told him to, she could be dead right now. Riven found, however irrational, that she had little faith in the Institute's ability to keep Noxus from its blood. Darius had gotten the upper hand in most of their duels. Of course its him I meet here, Riven thought as neither of them moved.

After a brief pause, Darius simply said her name. It was gravelly like she remembered, and lacked any animosity she had half-expected. Riven stepped closer.

"Darius."

Unlike the DuCouteau sisters, Darius, Riven, and Talon had some things in common. They were orphans. They had come from almost nothing. Using their strength, as was the core of the Noxian way, each had made their way to the highest ranks of the military. In the past, Talon had preferred–if one could call it that–to spend his time with Cassiopeia and Katarina, while Darius avoided Draven's antics for the most part. This left Darius and Riven to drink together as soldiers did, and as two of the most highly regarded fighters in the nation, spar repeatedly.

If they weren't Noxian, they would have been friends.

"I...we, thought you had died..." Darius trailed off. Riven swallowed, dipped her head, and opened her mouth to respond, but could not. What did you say to that?

"Well.." She looked back up at him and didn't say anything more.

"I don't know what happened, they wouldn't say." He wore an expression that betrayed what looked like remorse. She could understand–they'd both seen death without number, but when you knew someone it was harder in ways not many Noxians could recognize or admit.

"No, I can't imagine they would." Riven didn't anticipate what he did next, especially considering her status. The man, Noxian through and through–he couldn't hide it even if he tried, not with that complexion, and certainly not with his hair–grasped her shoulder. She inhaled shakily and smiled lightly at the gesture. Every Noxian, exiled or no, knew what that meant. Comrade.

As was expected of her, Riven drew her arm up and grasped his in kind.

"You were strong." Darius said it like it was a fact to him. He let go after a few seconds and folded his arms across his chest. "Drinks or spar?"

Riven found herself amused despite herself. He'd obviously just been working out, and was still seeking out a brawl. She replied after a bit of thought. "Drinks." Darius grunted in agreement and they set off.


Riven had little doubt that at it would be just like before with him, sitting and drinking with sparse conversation. She figured Draven made up for the words that Darius didn't say; the younger brother surely yapped enough for the two of them.

Darius poked a hilarious jab at one of the summoners walking past them as they strolled to the Institute's favorite drinking establishment. Graggy Ice was famed all over Valoran and Riven was quite eager to try it. This was the only place she could happen upon it unless she took a trip to the Freljord. In the midst of a familiar situation with something to look forward to, Riven was grateful for the distraction. Unfortunately, just as a another portion of her unease was slipping away, it morphed into a furious terror.

She'd had her head turned toward Darius, replying to something he'd said about the drinking habits of yordles here. Suddenly, her frame rammed into Singed.

The stench of his chemicals and concoctions reached her nose before she even fully registered what was happening. Then she was back there–sprinting and tripping over mangled bodies–entangled in the fury of war. She was frozen as she reacted blindly and with swiftness that reminded onlookers of her prowess. Riven had the startlingly sharp edge of her broken blade threatening Singed's neck in the blink of an eye. Only instead of the hardened resolve of a warrior, she was trembling and quickly drawing in strangled breaths. The exile was only half-present in her current predicament–reacting on instinct to the threat in the flickering hallucinations before her eyes.

"Riven!" Darius exclaimed, taken aback by the immediate change in atmosphere and the alarming reaction she'd had to the Zaunite. What was she doing? He called her name again, but she didn't hear him until he yanked her weapon from her hold and shoved Singed back. The man had been smirking devilishly, the tight bandages around his mask allowing it to be seen and at the same time adding an unnerving element to the gesture.

Darius waited as Riven seemed to come back to reality once Singed was a distance away. A few summoners had moved to intervene had the exile taken any further action, but eventually relaxed once Darius stepped in.

"I..." Riven began but couldn't seem to finish. She blinked repeatedly and didn't speak for a few more moments.

As soon as she spoke Riven cursed the instability of her voice. "I need to go–it's...I–"

Darius raised one thick eyebrow and cut her struggle off. "Later, then. See you around." With that he turned right into the bar, and Riven was already gone.


He checked the training area first, then wandered through various common areas and stopped in the dining hall for a cup of tea. Yasuo decided to wait until he found Riven to see if she'd eaten yet and if not, if she'd like to with him. As he filled a mug with water and tried one of the Ionian sounding brews, a man wearing strange goggles he tried not to stare at came up beside him with a an even stranger request.

"Pardon?"

"Wuju pass me the sugar?" The grin on his face spread even wider, and Yasuo wondered if he knew this man...the accent revealed he was Ionian at the very least. Yasuo's brow furrowed and then raised immediately after the joke was clear. His expression was half 'not amused' and half smirking as he realized the hero he was speaking to. He decided to play along, and gave a faux cocky chuckle.

"Wuju? No, I wouldn't." Master Yi replied with a hearty laugh, and smiled. Yasuo wondered if he knew who he was talking to. He didn't return the smile; the younger man's expression returned to a neutral mask to hide his uncertainty as to how he should react.

"It is good to see another samurai in the League. Too many ninjas, I say. Phyla, friend." Yi turned and strode away with an almost jolly note, tea and food in hand. Yasuo blinked. Perhaps he would find the tranquility the man wished upon him. It was a standard Ionian salutation but Yasuo couldn't help but think about it as he stirred his own cup of tea.

With a sigh, he grasped the warm cup and walked out into the cool night. He paused and took in the surprising beauty of the garden he'd just happened upon. Funny how they don't tell you about the best things, Yasuo thought as he went deeper, evaluating the flawless trees and flowers that seemed to bask in the moonlight. As he circled around the corner of a path he'd wandered down, the man thanked his luck and smiled with relief.

"Riven," he breathed as he started toward her. She was sitting on a stone bench, facing away from him, but turned as she heard her name from a friend once again. Even from here, Yasuo could see she was not okay. His pace slowed as his heart sunk and he frowned. Finally, he stopped beside her. "Erm, may I...join you?"

Riven nodded and her hair gleamed with the motion. He sat and told himself to focus on what was bothering her rather than how she managed to be pretty even when upset. Something about comparing her white locks and strong, yet delicate features to the blossoms surrounding them seemed ironic. No, he couldn't see her liking that. He didn't actually know what Riven liked, Yasuo realized in the back of his mind.

Yasuo glanced down at his tea, then the garden, then the moon. Riven sighed as she stared at the same spot in the ground. He looked back at her and pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. Eventually he decided to speak.

"Those flowers, over there," Yasuo gestured, "in Ionia...in school they teach us about all this stuff. Plant...biology, or whatever its called. I don't remember much but those..." He hesitated slightly; he could tell Riven was listening but she was still just as wound up as she was when he met her, not moving an inch, not even to look at where he'd pointed.

Yasuo went on.

"They're highly treasured in Ionia. The Basu Lotus." She turned to look at him now, and he paused when their eyes met. His heart quickened. Riven was troubled, he could see it in the crimson eyes that gleamed with moonlight, the remainder of which spilled across her cheekbones and the rounded point of her nose. Her tan skin seemed even darker at the points that received no illumination–the majority of her face.

Yasuo lifted a hand from the steaming cup and it burned with something else entirely. Gently, he grasped her shoulder and spoke as sweetly and softly as his rumbly raspy voice would allow.

"They mean peace."

That seemed impossible. Riven felt alone, though she knew she wasn't, and was incredibly anxious. The damage–all she had lost–she closed her eyes and focused. Yasuo could see her ponder his words as he kept his slate eyes trained on her face.

He was right. In order to move on, Riven desperately needed to relax, to focus, and allow herself to have some peace. Such a thing would not be easy here, but she knew that she could find it. Riven's shoulders relaxed. She could tell that it would have something to do with him.

Another sigh broke from her lips and Riven raised a hand to lay upon his. It was a fairly intimate gesture, at least for what she was used to, and Yasuo reminded himself that such a thing was likely purely platonic. Her eyes did not meet his easily when she did so, but Riven managed to whisper her thanks to the friend at her side. Yasuo withdrew his hand after a moment and they sat together for some time. It seemed like the air was lighter now.

Yasuo finished his tea and announced, "Well, I uh think I'm going to bed...Long day." He offered Riven a smile and she wordlessly walked back to their housing wing alongside him. With a word and a glance they parted for the night.


THESE KEEP GETTING LONGER, HELP

Writing is too hard. Pretty curious as to what your reactions to this will be.

As a side note, "Phyla" is what Karma used to say after some abilities. It means tranquility in that old Ionian dialect she speaks. SAE ELIESA TERA VI!

As a side side note, I do think that what Darius respects above all is strength. He has no reason to see Riven as weak, so he still respects her.

Thanks for reading, stuff probably hitting the fan in a few chapters. Leave your thoughts in a review!