Ashe observed the snowy evening outside her window as she sipped some herbal remedy from a porcelain teacup. The glass itself was covered in a layer of frost. Ashe's dissatisfied expression was displayed over the transparent mirror. Her bedchamber was cold, almost lonesome without her husband. Not that they had any interaction other than a halfhearted greeting and the presence within one another's proximity throughout royal ceremonies. It was necessary for them to be like this. To stand uncomfortably close to each other when they scarcely knew the other person. To smile, and pretend to share the love they have for one another between themselves and the Freljord. To share the same bed, and have each individual move as far as they possibly could from each other. Ashe felt like she was in a jailhouse, restrained from the life she wished for by the life she has.
Ashe was not exactly sure why she chose Tryndamere to be her suitor other than the fact that it was necessary for the political benefit of her kingdom. He was the exact opposite of her in every possible way. Ashe was beautiful both on the exterior and interior, educated, mannered, and executed all of her movements with elegance and grace. Tryndamere, on the other side of the spectrum pridefully carried his muscular build, with a personality that could only be described as barbaric, rebellious, boisterous, and completely unpredictable. It was late, and Tryndamere has not yet returned. It was in his character to never be on time, but he was always back in the castle of Freljord by midnight. She felt it. Something was not right. Or he was probably up to something. Ashe remembered the first moment she was introduced to Tryndamere. On a second thought, it felt more she was practically forced into a matrimonial ceremony she possessed absolutely no knowledge of.
"It is what is best for Freljord, your majesty," the duke would say.
"A queen should do anything in her power in order to ensure the safety of her people," another duchess would scoff.
Ever since Avarosa's demise, Ashe was left with the responsibility for Freljord's entirety, whether it was the maintenance of its military department, foreign interaction with neighboring countries like Demacia, Valoran, Piltover, or Zaun, and the assurance for the comfort and happiness of her subjects. That was the way it has been, and always will be. However, once Freljord was under attack by a neighboring enemy country, Ashe was instructed to combine Freljord's homeland security force with Tryndamere's tribe. It was not as if Ashe had a decision in the matter. She was practically railroaded into it by her personal advisory system, whom were basically there just to push her around and turn the political situation of Freljord into their favorable direction. Ever since adolescence, Ashe was deprived the basic freedom of being a teenage girl. She remembered when she would practice archery out on the open snowy field behind the castle, or hike over the infinite icy mountain range. Her childhood memories were now shrouded with the cloud of business and responsibilities she had to attend to on a daily basis. But most of all, Ashe was denied the privilege to engage herself in a romantic relationship. She wondered what it would have been like if she could walk hand in hand with a man she actually in love with, and how dreamy it would be to share a passionate kiss underneath the moonlight. She despised herself for having these delusional desires, but there was not a lot that she could ask for now that she is bound by the chain of this accursed royalty.
"Where could that bastard possibly could have gone," Ashe whispered to herself. She was aware that he went off to a training camp somewhere provided by the League, but that was by far all she knew.
"Such a shame," she muttered, flipping her silvery waterfall of hair over her shoulder.
"What is?" a familiar, masculine voice echoed from across the room.
Ashe turned around, only to see the towering figure of her accomplice in the threshold. She was suddenly flooded with relief when her eyes laid themselves onto her husband. But the contentedness was immediately washed away by the realization of her duties.
"It's none of your business," she responded promptly, moving her concentration back to the storm outside.
"Fine," Tryndamere replied. He removed his bloodstained armor from his torso, and his helmet from his head of long, dark hair. It cascaded over his back and ended by his waist. They complimented his emerald colored eyes, which always glistened playfully whenever it swept over Ashe's petite frame. She hated it when he did that. To condescend her with his size and strength, little did he know that it was accuracy, precision, and intelligence that lead to success in this world. She acted passive aggressive toward him, because she was for a start, still irritated that was forced into the marriage, and by Tryndamere's arrogant, belittling attitude. Ashe was however aware that she was indeed lying to herself. She admired her husband's intensely trained body from afar, how his muscular chest and arms gleamed with sweat after every workout, and the curved jawline of his facial structure. She also secretly treasured that confident smirk that frequently danced over his mouth every time he lead his troops to another victorious campaign. But she would never say those fantasies to herself. It was not like her to objectify a man like this. And it was not as if Tryndamere's physical perfection belonged to her anyway. Who knew how many women he fooled around with. He was a barbarian, and not even a political marriage could constrain him from his sexual drive. Ashe often compared herself to the women Tryndamere flirted with in the League, whom always fashioned themselves with extravagant flowers and ostentatious decorations. She herself preferred to dress simplistically, often limiting herself to either a darkened or neutral color scheme and only on occasion embellished herself with makeup. Either way, there was no denial that Ashe was attracted to him. It was just the difference of their personalities and the bitterness from the sudden control over their lives that immobilized the progress of their interaction.
Ashe's thoughts were immediately interrupted once more by Tryndamere. "I am going to shower," he announced. Ashe found it to be extremely annoying how he had to broadcast everything he did, and was only now able to suppress her objection to this vocalization.
"Go ahead," Ashe said, sighing and shaking her head. She proceeded to drain her teacup. Pouring it too quickly down her throat, she immediately choked, and spat the remainder of the liquid back into the container.
Tryndamere smirked at her uncharacteristic clumsiness. "Do you want to come with me?" he asked quizzically, flashing yet another award-winning smile.
"No thank you," Ashe immediately replied, pretending to not be caught off guard by his random flirtatiousness. Tryndamere stifled a chuckle before turning into the direction of his shower.
Ashe listened carefully as Tryndamere entered the bathroom, undressing himself and turning on the shower. She wondered what it would be like to join him. Immediately, she kicked her own shin, punishing herself for even fabricating such a disgusting thought. She waited for him to finish. As usual, he completed the task of cleansing himself with a gusto, by slamming open the door and presenting himself, almost as if he was the main character to a show on its curtain call.
His entire torso was naked, and Ashe could not help but allow her eyes to follow a droplet of water that accumulated at the base of his neck, dripping down between the plateaus of his pectoral muscles, zigzagging through the washboard of his abdomen, and then down into his nether region, which was unfortunately to Ashe's disappointment, concealed by a towel. She finally admit it to herself. She liked what she saw.
Tryndamere then proceeded to lick his lips, his carnation tongue tracing the curvaceous shape of his full mouth. Ashe also paid attention to how he pushed his hair back with his hand, his calloused fingers running between the thick strands. She fantasized what it would be like to take one of his fingers into her mouth, to run her tongue along the rough skin, or have one in her, stretching her out, and making her orgasm repeatedly, against her own will. Again, Ashe could not possibly believe what her mind was formulating. This was not how a queen should behave herself. She immediately looked away, unsuccessfully covering the blush that has already commenced its disperse over her cheeks.
"I am going to bed now," he announced once more. Ashe gave him another sarcastic smile, before swirling around the tea leaves in her cup, and focusing her attention onto the contents of her beverage.
"I do not care," she whispered to herself, and stood up. She adorned a modest night gown. Of course she had curves underneath the monotonous cloth, but she was not exactly in the mood to expose her body to Tryndamere when she put on the casual sleep dress. It was made out of cotton, and gave her an almost angelic atmosphere. It was her turn to shower now, and Tryndamere was fortunate enough that Ashe allowed him to wash himself first. Because for Ashe, it was exceptionally important for a lady to maintain her personal hygiene. She liked to take her time, frequently contemplating or reflecting underneath the water, while Tryndamere liked to complete the job expeditiously.
Before she turned the door handle, she felt Tryndamere's body tower over her own. She shuddered as he lifted a lock of her white tresses that was securely tucked around her ear, and whispered, "Sweet dreams, my queen." His hot breath prickled the tender, sensitive skin that blanketed the crook of her neck, and goosebumps ran over her back as he pulled away.
Ashe soon became extremely uncomfortable, and entered the washroom without acknowledging Tryndamere. She undressed herself and entered the shower, massaging her hair and body with soap. She allowed the water to wash over her face, and pushed her silvery tresses out of her eyes. It was an extended shower, one that was longer than her ordinary ones. She hastily wrapped a clean towel around her body, tucking the loose end into a fold, and dried her hair with another washcloth. Tryndamere seemed to already be asleep when she completed her shower.
Ashe stepped into her wardrobe and decided to select another set of pajamas. If Tryndamere was going to tease her like this, who would it hurt if she did exactly the same? She opened a cabinet that was pushed to the back of her closet. Just because she was a queen did not mean that she was not allowed to be adventurous. She selected a white, lacy babydoll. It supported her enormous breasts comfortably, but Ashe allowed for her cleavage to spill over the edge, a nipple peaking mischievously outward. The space in between the cups of the naughty lingerie was a conspicuous ribbon, that tightly bound her boobs together like a present for Tryndamere to open. Not that she would let him to. The babydoll possessed spaghetti straps that clung over her shoulders and culminated at the frilly skirt attached onto her lower back, which just barely covered her round, bouncy butt. She placed a decorative, white headband into her hair. Afterwards, she pranced playfully toward another drawer, and removed a lightly colored thong. Juices began trickling down her thighs as she felt the lacy fabric tickle over her womanhood. She slipped on a pair of translucent stockings with lace that decorated her elongated, slender legs. There were straps that attached comfortably to her underwear. She chose white high heels embellished with a bow at her toes, and clicked them on over her ankles.
Looking herself over in the mirror, she decided to just this once, decorate herself with makeup. She painted a sharpened, classic stripe of eyeliner over her lids, and covered her mouth in a shimmery sheen of lip gloss. Spritzing herself once more with feminine fragrances and perfumes, she completed her lingerie outfit with a sprinkle of glitter over her chest, allowing her breasts to shine in the light. She also inserted some flower petals in between the fabrics of her dress. Slamming the door open, she jolted Tryndamere awake. His eyes were at first clouded over with a veil of slumber. The haze soon disappeared once he observed the spectacle that stood before him.
The bra piece of Ashe's babydoll pushed her breasts skyward, allowing them to appear to be even more enormous than they already were. Her entire chest practically sparkled with the glittery dust that she powdered them over with. Her petite waist and curvaceous hips were accentuated by the lacy fabric of the lingerie. Her ass was highlighted by the tightness of her thong, as she bent over for Tryndamere to peak underneath the frilly skirt. She pretended to tighten the strap of her high heel, allowing for her dainty toes to wiggle underneath the shimmery fabric of the shoe. She crossed her beautiful legs in front of each one as she maneuvered her way toward Tryndamere. He whistled as she flicked a side of her silky, white hair behind her shoulder.
"My, my Queen Ashe-" he started before she placed a finger to his mouth. She bit her lip, and made sure to lean in extra close so he could smell, no- breathe, no- drink in the delightful aroma of her perfume.
"Good night, my king," she mocked playfully before strolling casually over to her side of the bed. She removed her high heels, closed the lights, and shut her eyes, pulling the bedsheets over her body and concealing it from Tryndamere's mischievous gaze.
Revenge has never been so sweet.
Ashe was immediately awakened from her peaceful slumber by a nightmare. It was about Avarosa. She was at her death bed, and was continuously calling for Ashe's name. Ashe touched her face. Her body was completely drenched in sweat, and she was practically hyperventilating, feeling her heartbeat thunder against her chest like a drum. She pulled her legs close to her chest, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Avarosa," she breathed quietly to herself.
Ashe immediately sat up, rubbing her shoulder apprehensively with her hand.
"Avarosa," she repeated. Suddenly, Ashe realized her noise has also awakened Tryndamere.
"What's going on?" he asked, stretching his muscular arms over his head and yawning rather loudly.
"Tryndamere.." Ashe said.
"Hm?" he murmured.
"C-can you hold me?" she requested reluctantly. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Ashe," Tryndamere uttered.
"Yes?" she responded, almost too quickly.
"Look down," he instructed, pointing at his chest, implying for her to do the same.
Ashe did just so, and to her horror, an entire breast has been exposed from her lingerie, and a puddle of drool has begun to accumulate from the corner of her lips, dripping down into the crevice of her cleavage. She fumbled clumsily with her boob and managed to stuff it back into her dress. She was acting so disgracefully, almost messily- a polar opposite of what she is typically like.
"Sorry about that," Ashe muttered. "Never mind what I said. You can go back to sleep now." She folded her arms across her chest protectively.
"What do you mean?" Tryndamere asked curiously, leaning in, completely aware that he was invading Ashe's personal space.
"Nothing!" Ashe snapped back. "I told you to not worry about it, so stop trying to poke into my business. Just go back to sleep."
"No," Tryndamere replied stubbornly. And with that, he swept Ashe from her position and enveloped her in his powerful arms. "You wanted me to hold you. I will follow my queen's every command."
It somewhat annoyed her that Tryndamere always referred to Ashe as his. She belonged to no one. She was not a prize for any man. But she was in no position to argue back, because no matter how many times she denied it, it was exactly what she wanted.
"Now go to sleep," he muttered, burying his face into the crook of her neck. His hands crossed over her flat stomach, and his breathing soon slowed down. It was low and mellow, but also soft. It comforted her. His blood pumped like the heartbeat of a warrior, thundering against her back. He was intimate, loving, kind- everything a husband should be. So why was Ashe still unsatisfied? She breathed in Tryndamere's scent- the smell of his familiar cologne was enough to lull Ashe to sleep. She felt his chest heave up and down, and was comforted by how safe he made her feel. She obliged with Tryndamere's earlier command, and settled back into a deep slumber.
It was noon when Ashe awakened. She was known to oversleep. Tryndamere was already gone. No goodbye kiss, or anything remotely romantic in order to tell her he would leave her. She noticed that she was desperately clutching a pillow to her chest in place of Tryndamere, wondering whether or not the encounter from last night really did happen. Was it merely a dream? She sat up once more, a puddle of drool dribbling from the corner of her mouth. She wiped her chin and took a look at the clothes she was wearing. The lingerie was still tightly bound around her body, but her hair was a complete mess. She placed a finger into her mouth, running her tongue over the smooth skin. She wanted Tryndamere to embrace her like that again. How warm and comfortable she felt, and how safe she was against his flesh. No one would be able to come and hurt her- she was Tryndamere's queen, after all. Her hand soon came in contact with the area between her legs. She felt extremely aroused for no apparent reason. She felt so sexy and desirable in her babydoll, and imagined how satisfying it must have felt to have Tryndamere's muscular, powerful arms wrapped around her delicate body. She then became irritated at how Tryndamere did not even caress or fondle her when he took her in his arms. She began to crave for his touch, playing with her vagina while moaning to herself. She started to think about how naughty it would feel to have his enormous, twelve inch member plunge into her pussy, how exciting it would be to have him finger her over and over again. She wanted him to handcuff her, bind her in chains and ropes and leather, and abuse her no matter how many times she asked for him to stop.
"Mmmm," she groaned, feeling her fingers start to coat with cum, inserting a finger into her tight hole.
Her thoughts began to wander elsewhere. He would tie her up, suck on her nipples gently and then suddenly roughly, lick her neck and armpits, place his penis into her mouth, slap her ass and pin her to the ground, dominating her like the man that he was. To abuse her, slap her, hit her, kiss her, suck her, squeeze her, puncture her. It was almost too much to handle. Ashe orgasmed almost immediately, allowing her hand to stimulate herself. Her body was coated in a layer of glistening sweat. Her finger was still in her mouth, pretending for it to be Tryndamere's enormous girth. She has never seen it before, but she wanted to. It looked big. But she was not exactly sure of its size because it was always covered with armor.
"I want it," she whispered to herself, beginning to finger her own pussy again. "I want it.."
After pleasuring herself, she suddenly felt embarrassed- almost pathetically so, that she was a masturbating over a man that probably had no interest whatsoever for her. How fortunate that blasted Tryndamere was to have the queen of Freljord finger herself over the thought of him. The bastard. She licked her fingers clean, and removed her lingerie, exposing her naked body in front of a mirror. She never usually had the time or mood to look at herself like this- so pure and clean. Ashe was not particularly sure if she liked her body or not. She was naturally thin, of course, and she has always favored the length and slenderness of her thighs and calves. She did indeed have beautiful legs. Her adorable feet were small and nice, decorated with a coat of white nail polish on the toes. She had a considerably small waist, accentuated by the curvaceousness of her sultry hips, protruding outward. Her breasts were indeed quite large. They were round in shape, and the tips of her nipples pointed upward. Her back was arched with confidence, and also brought out the heart-like structure of her rear. Her arms were thin and delicate, and her shoulders were also rounded and smooth. Her neck was a perfect length, not too long, but definitely not too short. Her face was probably her least favorite feature. It often wore a sullen expression, and only once in a blue moon did it smile. Her eyes were cerulean blue, and always stared at its target with deadly intent. Her hair poured over her shoulders and ended at the middle of her back. It was white and long, but usually just got in the way. Ashe wouldn't mind if she just chopped it all off, or shaved her head bald, but she knew that the royal advisory would object to that action.
After wearing her strapless dress and attaching on her hooded cape, she couldn't help but think about Tryndamere again. He always left, and was never around. She missed him. Ashe's entire body ached for his touch.
"Where is that bastard," Ashe muttered to herself as she stepped out into the snowy brightness of the day.