Even before the first snowflakes had landed on the ironwood roofs of the Institute's towers, before the winds of winter had awoken from their restless slumber to envelop the world once more in their blistering gusts, Ashe knew. The mark of the Iceborn thrashed under her skin, a chilling brand that constantly reminded her of the cross she bore as she dealt with her ever-growing responsibilities: first as the newest incarnation of the Frost Archer, then as the leader and spokeswoman of the Avarosan, and finally as the Queen of the Freljord, a title finally actualized and one as real as the scars herself and her people bore to claim it.

Ashe soon found that her work had only just begun after her ascent to the throne. Vultures far more deadly than the ones who scoured the frozen battlefields in the north to pick off those lying in the tundra lurked in every corner of Valoran, velvet-tongued harpies that stood in the shadows of every pillar in the palaces of the great city-states. Despite the Lightshields' sworn promise to support the fledgling nation through its stabilization period and early growth, Ashe knew the disapproving whispers that spread through several less factions in Demacia, claims that the fair-skinned princess had only won her kingdom riding on the coattails of the gargantuan efforts of the army of barbarian warriors that hailed from the Fyrone Flats. The Noxian noblemen held no better opinions.

A nation whose culture shunned the cowardly nature of informants did not have many who claimed a profession in intelligence, but Ashe had fared pretty well relying on a few select individuals to bring her sensitive information. One of them had informed her that they had an interesting report to deliver to her this very evening, and so she had made sure to remain in her quarters so she could be present when her caller came.

She heard the metallic rustling of the door handle unlocking, the slab of wood moving forward as the bare-shouldered form of her lord husband hustled inside, carelessly tossing his broadsword at the wall and making long strides at such speeds that if Ashe hadn't known better, she might've thought that he intended to overturn the coffee table at which she sat. But Tryndamere had quelled his short fuse as quickly as it had begun to run and settled for grumpily crashing into the leather sofa between the door and the coffee table, groaning as he leaned his head back against the pillow cushions.

"I guess your match didn't go so well," the queen greeted him, her eyes kept on the electronic board in front of her. Tryndamere had scoffed at Ashe when she came back one day with one of the Piltover products in tow along with the blonde-haired explorer who had volunteered to explain the technology to her, but Ashe had understood the usefulness that could come with learning how to wisen up to the inventions of other nations. The advanced communication system that they had called "e-mail" was quite a few rungs up the ladder from their traditional letter writing, allowing the queen to disperse issues to the numerous vassals that had accompanied the royal couple to the Institute. In addition to the array of domestic issues that always needed addressing, the archer had found herself much busier as of late dealing with preparations for the upcoming Grand Ball, where the summoners had designated her and Tryndamere as special guests, and from one of her more savvy sources, the ominous threat of the Ice Witch making moves behind the shadows beyond the horizon.

"The other champions were the least of my worries," the barbarian king grumbled as he straightened up from his slouched position. "It was one of the few occasions that I was able to get the upper hand on that damned orange ball of fur, but it all blew up in the air since the match decided to drag on longer than a pack mule with two broken legs."

"What happened?" Ashe asked, finally switching her gaze to her husband. True, Tryndamere wasn't the most affectionate of partners, but even during the first few uncomfortable weeks since they had met, he rarely refused to make eye contact with her for long. His eyes continued to bore into the apartment wall with a somewhat detached intensity. Ashe stood up, deciding that if he wouldn't make the effort to come to her when he arrived, she would have to bring herself to him.

She brushed a pale hand over his shoulder, the unannounced contact causing him to stir slightly. "It takes quite a lot to bother you, not something I would've expected out of a summoners' match."

Tryndamere decided not to reject her contact, remaining in silent thought for a few moments. "It feels childish to get so concerned over a simulation, but there's no other explanation for it." He sighed, rolling his shoulders and taking a deep breath in what Ashe knew as rituals for a very weighty story. "Forty minutes or so into the match - my summoner's count, not mine - both teams had finally decided to turn our attention to the pit of Nashor. And we hid in the thickets for what felt like hours, constantly adjusting positions, scouting the perimeter for unseen flanks, and slowly pushing them back. Somewhere along the way one of the summoners had the bright idea to simply start attacking the Baron." Her husband crinkled his nose.

"Your team would have had the advantage in taking it down with your power," Ashe pointed out quietly, speaking with the tone of a tactician rather than a flatterer.

"Enraged or not, I still understand that it is a risky proposition." For the first time since he entered the room, his opal eyes met hers, oversized irises that threatened to swallow up his pupils presenting the demonic look which naturally repelled many away from him. "But today it seemed like a much tougher beast. Even taking into account the ranged magic that our enemies sometimes threw at us, we suffered a far greater amount of damage than expected. The acid that it belched from its maw did more than just tear through my armor. It angered the river in which we fought, making it a boiling cauldron that seared both my team and the enemy. The Baron was struggling against us with such a fury that we had never seen before, but neither of us was willing to take our losses and retreat."

"And the summoners did not notice the burning river, or anything like that?"

"If they have a hand in it, they did their best to conceal it," he told her. "Eventually the enemy team had took their chance to fully commit towards fighting us, and the outcome was nothing short of catastrophic. There are many times that I curse the gift that the Darkin had bestowed upon me, and this was no exception. The clockwork girl on the other team was completely smashed by a few blows from the Monkey King after the corrupting acid went through her circuits, and I endured the screams of agony coming from my own marksman when the Pridestalker jumped onto her from the shadows. Normally Rengar puts a quick end to your life, but that chaos decided it would not be so easy. The acid rain had prevented him from making the one clean cut. Her struggle was prolonged and her life held in place only so she could continue facing the full force of torment in that battle while Rengar did his best to finish her. I know the hunter well, and he would never lose his determination to finish a kill, but his stubbornness brought out the worst of us. Nashor's appendages slammed into champions all around me, and I was forced to bear it all. And the rage kept me alive for an excruciating five seconds before I finally received release from the last few embers of Brand's fire."

The barbarian king shook off the warmth of Ashe's hand as he moved towards the other end of the sofa. "It was like fighting a real war all over again."

A few sharp knocks on their door drowned out Ashe's response, propelling Tryndamere out of his bloody recollection. "Are you expecting someone?" His voice had somewhat returned to normal.

Her informant had finally arrived, Ashe gathered. "Yes - don't worry, it's a friend," she assured him, seeing his raised eyebrows. The queen strode towards the door, checking through the peephole to confirm her visitor's identity before opening it. A flapping of feathers and a golden, two-pronged helmet adorning a tomboyish face greeted the archer, who returned the smile the scout gave the Freljord rulers as she took a wide step into the room.

"Quinn?" Tryndamere got up from the sofa, dusting his trousers off. He looked between the Demacian and his wife. "You know, if you had business with Ashe, you could've come with me straight from the match."

"Oh no, I couldn't do that," the ranger smirked, to both Ashe and Tryndamere's confusion. "Walking alone with a royal to their quarters at this hour? I wouldn't want to invite rumors of a scandal."

Ashe rolled her eyes, but couldn't hold back a smile; she stole a look at her husband, who seemed rather mortified at Quinn's implication rather than enraged, a rare moment of indecisiveness that Ashe made sure to remember. He had done a marvelous job so far in portraying that their marriage created an alliance of equals, but even so Ashe naturally felt like the one making sure that her steps matched. Moments where he showed deference to her could never quite come often enough.

"What are you really here for?" Tryndamere managed when he realized that his wife had taken Quinn's remark as a joke.

The scout's face immediately grew serious. "Right. The queen asked me to do some snooping around to see what the summoners are up to. Ever since the preparations got serious for the Grand Ball, she noticed that they were acting really odd, always avoiding questions about their progress and so on. I mean, I'm sure she's already told you."

Ashe saw him nod in recognition. While she did share her uncertain feelings to Tryndamere, he hadn't taken as much interest in the affairs of the summoners as she did. He turned to her. "You never told me you asked one of the other champions to help! I thought you would select someone from our personal staff."

"I think Quinn's a bit more experienced and skilled in the art of reconnaissance than our own professionals who are hardly more than boys," Ashe argued.

The warrior scratched his head at the fact, realizing just how deprived of personnel they had ended up. "Of course, but that doesn't mean Rickard and Stenson aren't good at what they do…"

"Do you not trust her?" Ashe shot at him.

Quinn didn't seem too concerned about potential trust issues, although Valor set his gaze on him so intently that Tryndamere had trouble looking at the duo. He examined them for a second before turning back to Ashe. "The Demacians have generally been helpful to us, I admit."

"And Quinn has personally been up to the Freljord to meet with us and investigate the rumours a few years ago about Lissandra," Ashe explained. "She's already risked her life out there more than once discovering the truth for our sake, so I think you can rest easy knowing her good intentions."

"Very well, then," her husband conceded.

Quinn shifted her weight from one side to another. "Anyways, I'm pretty sure the summoners have been messing around with things that are evidently too sensitive for even champions to know. You know that one hallway that was closed off because of some 'maintenance' problems? The one near the summoning chambers with a bunch of guys in hoods gatekeeping so that only 'authorized personnel' are allowed in?"

Ashe nodded.

"That's not exactly true, as you might've guessed," Quinn revealed with a smirk, leaning against the apartment wall with her arms crossed. "There's this particular summoner, name's Collins, who I see go to do work in that restricted area at around the same hour every day. Now when he goes to perform real maintenance work at sites, he'll bring something rudimentary like a hextech wrench and blowtorch. But yesterday I caught him out of routine lugging a lot more firepower along with him. A hextech gunblade and a Zaun-Augmented Bio Assault Rifle? There's no reason to carry about those weapons unless you needed them to do some serious damage."

"Then the High Council is undertaking a very serious secretive program," Ashe surmised. "And yet I thought they had their hands full preparing for the Ball. They had told Tryndamere and me that they would do all they could to ensure that it went smoothly to inaugurate our nation. Are they brushing us off to the side for some other designs?"

"Whatever it is, there's something that needs containing in those roped-off corridors," Quinn said. "You don't need to bring out that much precaution for an extended period of time if you're just going to shoot it to death or something. The weaponry Collins was carrying around is being used to keep something in check."

"It's probably just one of those fiendish Void creatures," Tryndamere offered, but Quinn shook her head.

"The champions of the Void are kept in a different place. If anything, this location is around the area where Fiddlesticks is, but as far as I've known he hasn't acted up and tried to escape that summoning chamber. The scarecrow's more content with just standing in his little dark corner and killing anyone who bothers him," the ranger commented nonchalantly.

While Ashe continued to search her mind for other possibilities, Quinn continued. "This isn't all, though. Apparently some of us are cleared to go into that area, because out of all people, I spotted Teemo waddling his way over there. At first I chalked it to the summoners not noticing him, but then I see the Eye of Twilight casually stroll through with no concern for hiding his presence."

Quinn put a hand into one of her pockets to pull something out - Ashe couldn't get a good look at that distance, but it looked like a gum wrapper - and threw its contents in her mouth after unwrapping it, chewing it every so often. Tryndamere began to fume, thinking her gesture to be some kind of disrespect, but Ashe gave him an accepting look and he calmed down ever so slightly. She never wanted her friends to think they had to stand on ceremony with her. Quinn went on. "Come to think of it, Shen's probably the least careful of the four ninjas snooping around. For all intensive purposes he's the leader of the Triumvirate, and I always had this view that someone in such a position would be some kind of dark mysterious shinobi, but he's more like a security protection robot. Whenever you're in trouble, he just appears out of nowhere and does his best to be a big thorn in their side so that you end up being okay in the end. Point is, certain champions are allowed access in there for some reason, and if they had somehow missed Teemo, then they cleared Shen in because they felt they needed his help. The Kinkou are all about restoring balance, so there's something down there that probably fell out of equilibrium."

While Ashe scoured her mind for other possibliities, Quinn continued. "So this doesn't sound like an ambitious research project or some crazy summoning experiment. They have to be taking some kind of protective measures, which falls into line with keeping the Grand Ball nice and cozy for you two." She flashed a smile. "I'm sure it'll turn out great. Can't wait!"

"Oh? Last time we talked, you were complaining to me that you didn't have a date. Something about the prince forgetting to pair you up with one of the other Demacians…"

"Well, I managed to solve both of my problems at once when I was out investigating. I was actually going to bring him up after this, since he has some access to some extra information that I can't really get to myself," Quinn explained before averting her gaze for a second. "But the only reason why he shared it with me was because I agreed to be his date for the ball in the first place. Funny story, huh?"

"That's rather superficial, don't you think?" Ashe was never one to get involved with the romantic escapades of her female friends. An unmarried version of her might have found appeal in the prospect of playing matchmaker, but she found herself much more grounded in her thoughts when she considered her marriage to Tryndamere, often taking the more moderate stance out of the majority of the female champions when they gathered together to discuss their lives and what not.

"Hey, it's strictly business," Quinn shrugged. "And he's cute enough, so it'll work out. Like I was saying though, I told him to bring his intel to you in person, if you two had any questions that you wanted to personally ask him. So if you're interested in throwing another person into the mix, I can send Valor out the door and find him in a couple of minutes."

Ashe shared a look of consideration with her husband briefly before she spoke, moving towards the door and opening it. "Well, I certainly don't mind knowing more about whatever the summoners are hiding from us. Go ahead and let Valor out. As long as your friend can knock, it'll be alright. Who are they, anyways? If they're going to be your date, you might as well tell us their name."

The blue eagle gave a sharp chirp of affirmation before speeding off down the walkways and towards the dormitory section of the Institute's housing quarters. While most champions elected to reside in the university-style housing with only narrow corridors separating the rooms, Ashe and Tryndamere had agreed that they preferred living quarters with more privacy, and had selected a small one-floor apartment, located on a grassy plain a short distance away from the rest of the rooms that the other Freljord champions had. Only Nunu lived in a special apartment like the royals, but his situation came out of necessity rather than preference, for his yeti, Willump, required more space than a simple dorm room.

True to Quinn's word, a couple of minutes later they heard soft knocking at the door and a few scratching noises that Quinn attributed to Valor's talons. The archer instinctively opened the door without looking to let Valor back in, and only when she found herself face-to-face with the wide-brimmed cowboy hat and long brown hair of Twisted Fate.

"Pleasure's mine," the Card Master greeted her, flashing a gilded smile at a fairly stunned Ashe and not waiting for an invitation to enter the room. Quinn gave a half-hearted wave towards him as he sauntered in, while Valor seemed to have trouble not squawking at him.

"Would it kill ya to remove that helmet every once in a while?" Fate asked Quinn. "That headgear's only getting in the way of your beautiful purple locks."

Quinn nervously raised a hand to scratch the back of her neck as she tried to laugh off his compliments. "Heh… right. Your pickup lines can wait till the ball itself, no sooner. I agreed to be your date, not to be the object of your subpar flirting."

Fate looked a bit shaken up. "Don't you think that's a bit harsh for a-"

"You know I won't be wearing this to the Grand Ball, so I think you can afford to keep it professional until then," she suggested. She raised her finger in a silencing gesture when he tried to response. "Nope. You agreed to come here to spill what you know to the rulers of the Freljord." She backed off and Ashe took a step forward to grab the gypsy's attention.

"Any information you might have regarding what the summoners have been doing in secret would be greatly appreciated," Ashe implored him in the sweetest voice she could muster. Tryndamere faked a cough.

"Alright, alright. You northerners are rather blunt when it comes to your business, aren't ya?" Fate grumbled. "I found the fine lady over there and her bird watching people walk by some corridor with so much focus I nearly mistook her for a statue. Should've seen her jump when I got her attention. Anyways, she asks me if I can pull off a few tricks to see what's going on in there, and I assume you know what kind of deal we made, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, we do, just get on with it," Quinn shot at him from the corner.

"The story ain't half as fine without context!" Fate protested. "Whatever, long story short, they can't hide from Destiny. The perimeter was set up with some anti-surveillance wards, though, or something, so everything was covered up in a dark grey fog. All except for one portion, though, and it was the area right above some kind of wacky portal. One shade of magenta-purple or whatever you want to call it, as far as the eye could see. So some crazy rift in space just appeared in the middle of the Institute, and there's got to be some of the summoners over there doing who knows what to it."

Ashe couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it involved Lissandra in some way, and whenever she thought of Lissandra, she couldn't help but shiver at the chill that the idea of the Watchers returning brought. Ever since the Ice Witch had vanished during a temporary League match failure a week ago, the Avarosan population had come to her with concerns, wondering what the sorceress had in mind. If Lissandra had escaped the confines of the Institute, did she have some sealed away power greater than the summoners that she had kept hiding? If so, had she been holding back this entire time when she could've fought against Ashe with greater power? Those questions had haunted Ashe as of recent, and the secret affairs of the Institute didn't help matters at all.

"I can attempt to figure out what could possibly be behind door number two, if you would like," Fate offered, getting Ashe's attention. "Now this sort of method is rather unreliable, but if you're a gambling woman and are willing to give a little tribute to Lady Luck, something might work out."

"Speak plainly," Tryndamere commanded. "What would you have us do?"

"The things I ask for are for nothing more than the sake of the ritual." He pulled out an old deck of cards from his coat pocket, the weathered backs suggesting that he had kept the same specimen for several years. "Would you happen to have a gold piece on you?"

Hardly in a predicament of insufficient funding, Ashe and Tryndamere had plenty of money on them (the whereabouts of which they would never mention) and although she had most of it in the form of the paper bills which the Institute used as their currency, she always liked carrying a few gold pieces on her because it felt better having the real worth of gold accessible to her. All the city-states with the exception of Piltover and Zaun always recognized the weight of gold, and the champions who hailed from them were better convinced by its voice rather than the flimsy contract of a couple strips of paper.

"I would, yes," Ashe affirmed as she went to search through her purse for one of the small aureolae.

"Now hold on, Ashe," Tryndamere interrupted, "isn't this what you would call a bribe?"

Twisted Fate laughed. "Well, I suppose he isn't wrong. Imagine what the people would think, the queen of Freljord succumbing to political corruption! The worth of a single gold piece is rather infinitesimal, although I suppose the stories could be easily exaggerated… eh, I was only going to keep it if you didn't ask for it back. The important part is that the gold is there, and not whose hands it's in."

Her husband lowered his shoulders very slightly. Ashe had finally fished one out and tossed the sphere to Fate, who snatched it out of the air with one hand. "Right. Just some gold dust and a fair lady's kiss, and I can reveal-"

"Are you aware of what you're asking for?" Tryndamere nearly shouted at him, quickly heading to Ashe's side.

"Calm down, I have no need to go after married women," Fate assured him. "Like I said, it's simply a part of the ritual, and while tradition does suggest a peck on the cheek at the very least, if I could simply lay a kiss on her hand, that should suffice."

She placed a hand on Tryndamere's shoulder, stroking it ever so slightly. "Don't worry, dear, I can assure you I have eyes for you alone," she told him, eliciting a faint blush from the barbarian king. She extended her other hand out to the gypsy. "Do what you must. I can't guarantee that I can hold Trynd back if you take too long, though."

Understanding her point, Fate hastily walked over to her, meeting her icy stare with a sheepish look, and bringing her hand up to his face, softly planted his lips on her skin for half a second before retreating as quickly as he had advanced. "Thank you. What comes after now is simply to the strings of fortune, but people who have been riding on the edge for as long as I have begin to learn some tricks to cutting the deck," he said, shuffling the deck in his hands. "Call it the heart of the cards."

After a few bridges shuffles and a rather arbitrary rearrangement of some cards that had 'accidentally' fell out during some of the maneuvers, Fate spread out the deck to show all the cards out to Ashe. "You simply need to pick a card, and the magic will do the work for you."

With the values unknown to her and every card having the same back covering to it, Ashe didn't have any opportunity to ponder about her selection, and she chose one, keeping her eyes away from it until Fate told her what to do. "And now what? Do I look at it, or do you still need it?"

"Go ahead," Fate encouraged her. "What you'll see is not the card design, but a completely original image. It may be a concrete scene of what we might find in there, it might be a symbol, it could be anything at all."

Ashe flipped over the card, seeing the number six inscribed in the top left and the bottom right corner. And sure enough, instead of the usual diamond or spade pattern she might find in the center, she saw a single elaborate image that caused her to nearly drop it in surprise.

A glowing cyclopean eye looked at back at her, in the center of a giant head from which stemmed a small thin body in comparison. Its geometric figure had several hands, which extended outwards from its body in an ominous religious pose, its body bare except for the rings around its wrists. She had not seen a picture of such a figure in several years, since the day that Lissandra had left the Avarosan and they had found out that she had faked her lineage as a Freljordian princess.

The figure of a Frozen Watcher.

A/N: the plot thickens

I got the idea of an Iceborn Ashe from my very good friend user Mach56 and his story "Power Struggle" which you should all take a look at if you didn't already. I tried to make my Tryndamere and Ashe close to his descriptions, but his is a rather serious story and I just had to place some banter between the other champions in this story and the royal couple. It doesn't seem that Tryndamere take romantic jokes all too well.