Prey – Chapter 3

The Demacians pull no punches. There are six of us at the table, Nunu and Tryndamere at my side, opposite Lux, Jarvan and Xin Zhao. Nunu is my secret weapon. He knows the resources of the Freljord better than anyone. Lux's dogged questions about fifty year crop forecasts, hunting quotas, road-building and population diversity are plainly dispatched. Nunu doesn't have to learn my reports, he sees through the matrix of geography as a mathematical savant perceives numbers.

Tryndamere is both confident and sanguine about our military strength. I had warned him not to oversell. Any questions about goals and principles are my field. Jarvan is not simple. He has formal training in ethics and can divide style from substance. As I can't compete with his education, I err on the side of looking a fool rather than a hypocrite. Exhaustion dulls my gravitas but I do not offend him.

Xin Zhao does not speak much. He is there as Jarvan's bodyguard. Lux is our true opposition. Behind her vacant grin and manic laughter is a mind like a bear trap. I can't help my resentment. She is younger than me but far brighter. The children are leaving me for dust. Mercifully, I do not find her attractive. I would not have coped with Shyvana… or Quinn. I would have spent the whole day rubbing her calf with my foot and watching her squirm.

When we are finished, I praise Nunu to the skies, utterly amazed that a youth could handle the pressure of international diplomacy. He grins and tells me that it's a different world. It's easy to forget the consequences when they pass him by. If all life were driven from this land, he would remain, somehow. Thankfully, he is kind and values our friendship.

Likewise, Tryndamere is not invested. He doesn't care for the Demacians and feels no need to impress them, even if he likes the idea of a big army to "give Sejuani's fat arse a good spanking". His lewd comments about women grow frequent and conspiratorial. I don't know what he is thinking. It could be that my denial of him was compelling evidence of my sexuality. Maybe he suspects nothing and just finds it funny to hurt and embarrass me through innuendo.

I would rather think that he is a shallow egotist than I am hopelessly transparent.

At night, I can forget myself. "Sian" doesn't have to mind the fate of countries, just one little Demacian. It's like stepping into a novel and basking in a stranger's romantic drama.

I had reflected on my behaviour, perhaps too much when other subjects required my focus. Quinn had welcomed my aggression but that was no excuse to override her unspoken fears. I want her to leave the Freljord happy, not regretful.

My plan is to overcome her shyness, encourage her to speak up. If she could say "no" to my advances, there'd be less chance of crossing her boundaries. Tonight, I will be more straightforward and court rather than seduce.

Quinn is waiting for me. Her eyes light up. I understand why people keep dogs that are always pleased to see you. There's something pet-like and asexual about her, with that pretty, forgettable face and modest frame. Her tight body is a hidden joy. She nearly skips across the empty hall, so light on her feet. If she straightened her back, she really could be a dancer, not an eager child.

Her energy falters. 'Um... Sian, are you all right?'

I wasn't expecting that. 'Is something the matter?'

'Did you sleep at all?'

Of course, I'd removed my cosmetics along with my finery. I probably look old enough to be Quinn's mother. 'No… not really.'

'You should go to bed.' She nearly touches my arm. 'I'll be all right.'

With a swing of my hips, I raise a flask of whisky and two cups. 'Want to help me sleep?'

Quinn stammers. Her gaze darts everywhere except me. 'I… are… you inviting me to your room?'

I laugh. The royal chambers would soon give away my identity. 'Fun as that sounds, I'm happy to drink here.'

'Oh… sorry, I didn't mean to imply…'

She's too much for my weak scruples. While she's watching the cracks in the floor, I kiss her on the cheek. 'Stop apologising. Let's sit down and have a chat.' While I find chairs, I imagine Quinn's blushes, her parted lips, her fingers touching the warm spot on her face. No, Quinn, it's not a dream. By the time I look again, she is exactly how I pictured.

'Is everyone in the Freljord so… tactile?'

I pat the chair next to me. 'You live in the cold, you get used to snuggling.'

'I bet.' Her cape tickles my side. Those feathers are soft. I wonder if she goes to bed in them. 'You must think we're so uptight in Demacia.'

'Believe me. There are people here that are much harder work than you.' I open the flask. The scent is marvellous. I had picked something at random but this might have class… or as much class as any beverage can have in a land of frozen nostrils.

'Really?'

'They wear horned helmets and ride boars.'

'Oh… you mean the Winter's Claw?' she says proudly. Quinn's done her homework.

'Yes…' the very thought of Sejuani makes me guilty and sad. I must find out what happened to her. Once the Demacians have left, I may triple the guard on "Udyr Patrol" and take him alive. He's a slippery devil but not one to die for Sejuani's cause, unlike the rest of her band.

When I look down at my cup, it's filled to the brim. This isn't good. I really need a hug and a cry… and sex, if I'm being honest. A shot of deep intimacy would be so much better than getting drunk and going undercover to perform a silly dance with a foreign emissary.

'Sian?'

I blink away my sorrow. Quinn really does care. I see it in those big, yellow eyes and tangled mane, like a stray cat, helping you keep watch at night. She is very sweet, more than a consolation prize. I muster a half-smile. 'Oh, I was thinking of… it doesn't matter.' I go to fill her cup.

'I don't really drink.' She is a good girl, of course. I don't want to press. 'But…' her voice, close to my ear, sounds hesitant and a little bit naughty. 'I wouldn't mind a… taste.'

Ooh, Quinn, are you going to bite me? I feel all exposed and shivery. If that's how you're going to be, I'm glad you've spared me the shame of drinking alone. I need to retain some dignity for both our sakes. 'Don't have too much if you're not used to it.'

Quinn gnaws at her lip and stares into the alluring darkness. Gathering her courage, she downs it in one. She does flinch but swallows without coughing or choking. 'Oh, my!' She gasps. 'It almost hurt, going down but… ooh, now it's all warm and…' she rubs her tummy and purrs, 'I feel a bit giddy. It's nice.'

I stroke her back and watch her thaw. This may have been the right decision. 'I'm glad you like it.'

'We normally drink ale in Demacia, if we drink at all. I've never felt something just… work. It's much better.'

'Don't get carried away.' I vaguely recall my first time. I vividly recall waking up in a clearing with a terrible headache and insect bites all over my alcohol-soaked breasts. Apparently, I'd mounted a table, suffered an existential crisis partway through stripping and fled into the wilderness without my top and boots. Quinn deserves better than that. 'You'll make yourself ill.'

She looks at me through pale eyelashes. 'I'll trust you with my cup.'

'You may regret saying that…' I reward her enthusiasm with another shot. 'There are some very good wines from Demacia.'

'I can't imagine drinking wine. That's a… Xin Zhao or a Lux thing. I'm a scout, not a lady.'

'I'm no lady. It never stopped me.' The thought of wine makes me wet my lips. 'We can't make it in the Freljord and it's expensive to buy.'

'You have other drinks.'

'We do… Gragas lured many with his talents, though his work's a bit rich for me. Everyone drinks mead and tells me about this and that variety, but I can't tell whether they're lying or it's all too sweet. Whisky's not bad. I can actually taste something apart from sugar. It's "clean" if that makes any sense?'

'I don't know.' Quinn won't taste anything, swallowing like that. 'Perhaps I need to drink more?'

'I thought you Demacians took longer to corrupt.'

'We do. You're just very good at it.'

We both laugh. When was the last time I relaxed? I can't remember anything but stress, war and heartache. Flippant conversation, gentle company, these are normal things that anyone should treasure.

Did I ever have them?

I wonder about Quinn, talking to her bird. Maybe she feels the same. 'Where is your friend?'

'Valor? Oh, he's off hunting.'

Does Quinn have a way of sharing his view? Their connection is fascinating but I'm far more worried about Lux using her magic to accomplish the same effect. He may be gathering information while he's out there. Even so, I can't force the issue without implying there's something to hide. 'Again? We already have farmers over-working their lands and hunters proving their mettle.'

'Should I call him back?' If she's willing to do that, she may be innocent, unless it's an elaborate ruse to throw me off the scent. The classic response would be to deny all control. I suspect that Quinn doesn't play the game. There's still the possibility that Lux has done something without Quinn's knowledge. I should let this be.

'No, I was joking. I'm sure the Freljord will outlive us all.'

'Is it very beautiful?' There's longing in her voice. The tales of our landscape fire imaginations throughout Runeterra. The Freljord is a teenage dream, a symbol of adventure, that Quinn needs to be real.

'Oh you would not believe…' I feel the stirrings of patriotic fervour. 'It is familiar and fantastical, raw and romantic, sublime and savage.' I giggle at my words. 'Listen to me, trying to be a poet! It's hard to convey the magic of the place with one image… a solitary arctic fox on a windswept plain of white… ancient carvings in endless rock behind young evergreens. The Freljord is everything at the same time. That which should not co-exist… the impossible… to… together.' My voice cracks. War and love, Sejuani and I, maybe our relationship is just a reflection of the Freljord's ancient paradox. I sniff back tears.

Quinn takes my hand. 'Are you all right, Sian?'

'I'm… growing sentimental… places, people…' The human contact opens the floodgates. I throw my arms around Quinn and weep into her shoulder. Her stiff arms move up and around, like a golem trying to learn emotion. Her purple dye smells like our chandlery, oil, tallow, adhesive. It's not enough. I need the scent of a person. I fall into her bosom. Her clothes haven't been washed. Scouts aren't known for their hygiene. There is no perfume or heady hormonal blend of sexual heat, only stale sweat, like a sick child, bedridden for days in the same outfit. My forehead presses into her breastbone. It is like holding a girl and not a woman.

I stop feeling sorry for myself and pity Quinn. She has missed a crucial stage on the way to adulthood. I don't know which one, childhood freedom? Rebellion? The profound realisation of your agency and helplessness, a contradiction that follows you to the grave? I pull back. She looks exactly how I imagined, high shoulders, flushed skin, lowered eyes, ashamed of the emotion that I've forced upon her. I feel disgusting. 'Sorry. It came so quickly. I couldn't hold back.'

'It's okay.'

'It's not okay. I shouldn't impose on a stranger.' Not to mention, a stranger who seems poorly equipped to bear my demons.

'No...' Quinn paws at my hair, 'no, I'm grateful. People never open up to me. They think I'm too… weird and immature to understand anything.' She is rubbing her arm and pouting. I don't know whether to feel chastised or vindicated for my prior judgement.

'I know what you mean. I have a lot of responsibility but everyone thinks I'm in dreamland.'

'It's not fair, right? I'm old enough to kill but…' Quinn hears the loud echo of her words and goes quiet. 'I'm old enough to kill but they're right. I don't have experience with… personal things.' That must be her way of saying she's a virgin. I'm not surprised but there was no guarantee. As a peasant, your "honour" is discounted and sex is a free option. You can't always afford to eat or drink but getting on your knees costs nothing. 'But you're different. You're far too worldly and… persuasive.'

'You mean "old and creepy"?' I so need to catch up on my beauty sleep.

'No, just that you're a woman and not a…' her mouth twitches sadly, 'girl. I wish I were more like you.'

'You're fine as you are, Quinn.' She can grow up at her own pace, and into something better than me.

'I'm not. I've always felt incomplete but whenever I find a missing piece, another one comes adrift.' She stares into her cup. I fill it. She downs another shot and finds the will to continue. 'I had a twin brother. I loved him but… I always felt a little bit of my heart was outside my body, even when he was near.' Her cloak bunches up around her ears. 'He died and I stalked the land where he fell, searching for what I'd lost... and I found Valor.'

'I did wonder how you met.'

'I don't know why Valor was there. Even if he could tell me, I don't think he'd say.' Quinn looks to the heavens. 'There's a lot of speculation. The bards write songs about him bearing the soul of my twin. I believed that for a while but… I thought… what if Valor himself loves me, regardless? If I look for mystic patterns, I deny what is real.'

'That's very wise, Quinn.' Perhaps my love for Sejuani is no cosmic tragedy, written by the stars. Maybe we're just two women who fell together in difficult circumstances. Destiny can be a cruel mistress. I'd like to think that she doesn't run my whole life.

'Really? I don't think anyone's called me "wise".' There's hope in her voice. 'You don't think it's silly that an eagle could love someone as we do?'

I've always walked with spirits. They've been greater comfort than most people. My hawk follows me to this day. However, it's not them I contemplate. I recall Sejuani in Volibear's arms. His devotion made me feel so empty and forsaken. Tryndamere would die for me because of whom he is, a frenzied berserker, bred to fall in combat. Volibear would die for Sejuani because of whom she is. 'I don't think it's silly at all.'

Quinn beams like the sun breaking through the clouds, a flower yearning to bloom. 'Thank you. Most people assume I'm some… holy avenger who's not talking about real emotion, or that I'm broken, mad and lonesome.' In her cup, she watches her murky, distorted reflection. 'Well… I am all of those things… but that has nothing to do with Valor.'

'You feel so normal, so human, that it makes you want to scream, burst into tears or collapse but other people see a child, a misfit... or a goddess.' That word sounded thrilling on Sejuani's lips but I'd rather be a simple woman that she could touch. With growing need, I wrap my arm around Quinn's waist and pull her to my side. 'You're not alone.'

Quinn stares at me with open grief, like I am painful to behold, a mistake she has made. Just when I think she is about to cry, she bites me on the cheek. I feel the whisky on her kiss, cool and wet. 'Uh… was that all right?' Quinn has spent years in the wild. She has a feral side, untouched by the fake ceremony of prescribed intimacy. Her aggression was unintended, which makes it doubly exciting. I am aroused and ashamed.

Floating back, I tap her on the nose, a way to maintain our connection without drowning in it. 'I did it to you. I can hardly say "no".'

'Okay,' she keeps meeting my gaze and looking away. Her lashes flutter. I'm not sure if it's a nervous twitch or if she's trying to be coy. 'Do you… have a husband?'

I could tell her anything but one lie is enough. There has been more precious honesty in our false dialogue than in all my noble endeavours. Even my predatory deceit is a truer likeness. 'I do.' Quinn pales at my words. 'We help each other but… our marriage is convenient, not loving.'

'Was it arranged?'

'In a sense. I arranged it myself.' I can't face Quinn's disappointment. She probably saw a glimmer of hope in my boldness, a pity I am just another slave to convention.

'Is it okay if I ask why?'

'We had to merge two extended families for the good of my tribe. The Avarosan weren't always… this, living under high ceilings, behind strong walls. Ten years ago, we weren't even called the Avarosan.'

'Wow, you've come a long way.'

'Yes…' I remember the leaner years as if they were yesterday but they seem like two different centuries. My mother claimed immortal blood. I keep silent on the matter as I don't like to boast without evidence but my perception of time is fittingly askew. 'It was the right decision.'

Who am I fooling? There was no decision. To achieve my goals, I had to be Queen, embodying wisdom, community and prosperity. That was my sworn duty. There was no woman in my life and never would be until…

Sejuani, if you came so much as halfway, I would cast aside my halo, betray the dream of a united Freljord and allow your private domain. I am no martyr. Fellow goddess, there are few blessings I need from you, a friendly conversation between equals, your shoulder next to mine as we see the world through different lenses, the heavenly joy of not being alone.

But you are stubborn and pure, and I love you for it. You live without compromise, while I assume a false name and tease a vulnerable youth who would likely surrender all for a kind word.

I don't blame Quinn. It's not like I'm any better.

She fidgets. I'm amazed all those little movements don't wear her out. Finally, she works up the courage to speak. 'Was there someone else?'

'Yes… but we can't be together.' My next words are a dangerous comfort. Lost within the complex wilderness of life, acceptance can be a safe prison. 'Love isn't always enough.' Quinn looks forlorn. What girl her age wants to hear that true love isn't the strongest force in the world? Granted, she is Demacian. They're more into justice. I hope, for her sake, that she rejects my words as weak and cynical. 'Are you married?'

'What… me?' Her laugh is raucous. 'I'm too young, like way too young.'

That was something I didn't want to hear. I'd assumed that Quinn was a late bloomer, not an actual child. I feel sick. 'How old are you?'

'I'm nineteen.'

Okay, that's not far off my original guess. I'm still a bad person but not irredeemable. 'Plenty are married with children by your age. Before we had the resources to free people from their roles, women had to settle down unless they proved their other skills were crucial.'

'I know. In the Demacian countryside, we grow up fast. I think being a twin can shut you out of chances and obligations. People look at you and, for an instant, they see only half a person. Sometimes that moment is all it takes for life to pass you by.'

Quinn's tale draws my sympathy. I'm going to weep again if I'm not careful. She deserves a cool mentor, not "Ashe, the Melting Snow Queen". 'That's awful. I'm sorry, Quinn.'

'Don't be. The good outweighed the bad. I'm just trying to explain why I feel too young for marriage.'

'I understand.'

'Even if I were older, scouts aren't exactly wife material.'

The only domestic talent I have is giving orders but if I were to choose one... 'my husband would agree.'

'Oh! I wasn't talking about…' Quinn spills whisky in her lap. 'For you, I'd make an exception.'

I grin at her. 'Would you now? I'd marry you in a flash. A member of the royal entourage… what man could possibly refuse?'

Quinn stammers. 'Oh, I don't hold much sway. My… scant authority isn't worth a pretty girl who's always at home.'

'You are pretty.'

She blushes so easily. Her fair skin betrays her delight while she hides her smile. I revel in my power and envy her weakness. Oh, Quinn, I'll call you "pretty" a thousand times if it makes you that happy, and I can do so much more. She recovers enough to return the compliment. 'I don't think anyone would say that with you here.'

'Charmer.' I kiss her forehead and casually stroke her hair. The dye feels unpleasant but it works my imagination, all those hidden depths awaiting my discovery… but the surface grows on me as the locks bunch and separate in unique ways. If I closed my eyes and reached out, I'd never mistake her for anyone else. 'No boyfriend?'

'Oh, no… no…' she draws out that last denial. 'Boys don't even notice me.'

'They're just shy.' At her age, definitely.

She concedes without enthusiasm. 'If you say so.'

I trace the outline of her ear from top to lobe. The heat scrambles my thoughts and burns through my opposition. Against all judgement, I dive into a perilous rapid. One subject had lurked, unspoken, until now. I am pushing a snowball down a hill. 'What about girls?' I whisper.

Quinn sits bolt upright, revealing a focus I hadn't seen beyond her training. 'Erm… I…' sucking her teeth, she watches my lips, then my chest, then my lips again. 'I don't know. Is that normal here?' She's trembling as though I'd voiced my intention to pounce.

'Not really. Survival depended on stability and procreation. If you were strong, you had to breed and provide a steady environment so your children could fight the chaos outside.' It's all very logical. I wish I could hate my words more than I do. 'Preferring your own gender is… not persecuted but childish and irresponsible. If you persist then you must do it in secret.'

'What do you think?' She already knows. I conveyed enough regret with the tone of my voice, the turn of my head, and every twitch of my hands. Maybe our thoughts are one, and she craves to hear them spoken.

'I want to do the right thing but… it's hard. A life without someone to kiss you goodnight, soothe your pain, love your body as you love theirs.' My control slips. I never meant to disclose this much so quickly. 'I can face the world without a hand in mine, there's always a distraction, but when it's just the darkness, an empty bed, and this overwhelming need to be touched…' I hide my tears with another draught of whisky.

'The person you loved was a woman?'

'Yes.' And there it is. I couldn't even be this candid with Sejuani. She's too preoccupied with killing me or herself to engage in conversation. Thank you, Quinn. I'm glad we crossed paths, even if I walked some dark entries to get here. 'Are you okay with that?' I've staked a lot on her approval. If she rejects me now, I may fall apart.

'I am.' She throws her arms around me with bracing strength, granting acceptance we both need. Our ribs compress with exquisite pain. She clutches me like I'm a fading dream. 'Thank you so much for telling me. No one talks about… our love in Demacia. It's like… it's like being the sole drop of rain in a sea of loneliness.' Our cheeks brush together as Quinn draws back. Her amber eyes and virgin lips are silently pleading. This girl has never been kissed, has waited for this moment. I know her thoughts. Contact is not enough. It can be bought, negotiated. What she needs is the magnetism, the unconscious.

It is there. I am attracted to her sweetness, her potential, her scrawny, muscular body. I make the first move, an inch forward then aside, letting her nose pass mine. Quinn shuts her eyes, of course, because that's what "real" lovers do. She can't bear to know her movements and direct them. She wants them to be natural. Dear Quinn, you just bump your head that way.

Luckily for you, my eyes are open.

Her lips are a wall. They mash against mine. She pushes hard, trying to find that new spiritual connection. Relax, Quinn, you don't fuse with your partner. It's just skin on skin. Learn to enjoy it for all it is. I slow her down and suck gently on her lower lip. She relaxes and copies me. I hold her delicate jaw, feeling the beautiful, sensual undulation of flesh and bone.

I am melting. I am finally melting. I needed it so badly… I…

…

I wake up in her arms. Did I fall asleep? How disgraceful of me. I should talk to Quinn. She'll want assurance that she did everything right, fulfilled my expectations… but I'm so tired. Her kiss was like a drug. I'm warm, numb and dead to the world. I should talk… I really… really should…

My hair is wet. She is crying. I don't have the energy to rise. All I can do is turn enough to kiss her neck and murmur. 'Are you okay?'

'Sorry… I… don't deserve you. You're exhausted and away from the one you love and I'm taking advantage.'

'You're helping.' This makes her cry louder. She sniffs hard between little moans. 'Quinn?'

'I'm evil and useless!' "Evil"? That's a strong word. I know the Demacians are a zealous people but hearing that from Quinn scares me. Did she ever combat her desire with self-harm? I dread to think that she wasn't ready for this. If I cast her from a prickly, but safe, nest into a lethal tailspin of shame, I will never pardon myself. 'I thought that it was okay to steal your warmth because you were tough but…'

'Quinn!' I want to shake her but I can hardly move. 'You need to stop hating yourself, I…' something isn't right. There's a darkness in this room, in my thoughts, a darkness that stretches into... 'How long was I out for?'

'Two minutes. My heartbeat was so loud, I… use it to keep time in the field.'

'Oh…' I'm having blackouts. If I don't get some rest now, I will collapse in front of Jarvan… or fall over a balustrade to my death. 'I thought it was only a second.'

'I was paralysed! You might have been dying but I couldn't let go.'

'You'd have known if something was wrong.'

'But…'

'I trust your instincts. When I walk through the night, I hear death in the wind. You're a hunter like me. If I were in peril, your inner fire would blaze.' Thoughts come and go but my words thrum with the clarity and purpose of a mantra. The sublime focus, that guides my bow, also unifies the cracked prism of self to a single ray of light. Even as I wallow in the depths of human frailty, I channel some higher power, from within or without. My unwavering centre is a blessing and a blight. 'Please don't fear death when you can live.'

Quinn's breath is charged with emotion. 'I… want to live.' Hands tighten, eager little claws, hungry despite her guilt. She nuzzles my cheek. 'You should… come to bed. We don't have to do anything. Just let me watch over you.'

It's a bewitching offer. I wish I could say yes but the threat of discovery is too high. A search party would turn the whole castle upside-down if I slept in. 'I'm sorry. My absence would be noted.' I kiss her on the mouth. 'I'm not saying that to be kind.'

'All right.' Quinn is gracious in her disappointment, a shame I could not reward her courage.

'There's no need to rush. You're not obliged to sleep with the first person who kisses you.' I absent-mindedly sweep Quinn's hair from her eyes. 'Have a think and I'll do the same.'

She draws my hand to her lips. 'I'll be here. Whatever happens… thank you for the memory.'

As I lie awake in my room, I picture a world where Quinn and I don't have to pretend. Once my rule is firmly established, I could use my power to spread tolerance… but is change by royal decree possible without making a window to every soul? Would the mice become rats while the cats are at play?

The Winter's Claw tolerate no one but there are rumours abound that Sejuani openly favours women. It is troubling to think that we might encounter less prejudice amongst barbarians. I guess her culture is blind to all metrics but force. The line between good and evil is blurry, subject to manoeuvre by powerful interests, while the line between the strong and the weak is death… purity without equal.

I walk the longer road but I knew that from the beginning.

Sweeping my arms through the cold expanse, I bridle at how easy it must be for Sejuani to warm her bed. She earns what she takes. All she has to do is seize a girl by the hair and drag her to paradise. Maybe Sejuani is arching her back in pleasure while I toss and turn. Maybe she has a harem.

No, I can't imagine it.

I am in a tent. Rain pounds on the canvas overhead. Laid across a bier is a dark form, swathed in bloody fur. Distant words bubble from unseen depths. Malformed echoes herald each call. 'Ashe.' Even with all the noise, I recognise Sejuani's voice, deep, slow and stagey. Giving speeches to restless warriors above howling winds must have tempered her delivery. She toys with each sound like a blade. Her classical grace would shame any actress. 'Why are you doing this to me?'

I am torn between rage and need. Frantically, I reach out and find a hollow in the shape of her body. I stumble away, frustrated and horrified in equal measure. 'Doing what? Finding comfort because the woman I love drives me away, again and again?'

'You are all I want… I do not seek happiness and comfort, only you.'

'Then come to me! How many times must I offer my hand before you accept?'

'I…' the shadows flicker. 'Too long… I have been in darkness too long… and now, I am the darkness. I can never leave.'

'What can I do?' My throat burns with the force of my scream. 'You accuse me of betrayal then say we can never be together? Tell me! What can I do?'

New frequencies join the chorus, low and rumbling. The storm swells with distant thunder. 'She doesn't know.'

A hostile presence fills the tent, a shape formed by the rhythms of the rain, invisible sonic ripples fleeing the sides of a monstrous figure. 'Volibear?'

'Perhaps. I am at my limit. You could be hearing me… or hearing yourself.'

My back touches the wall. If Volibear has come to punish me then I should know my crime. 'What happened to Sejuani? Is she okay?'

'No…' the presence crackles with directionless energy. I don't think it knows my exact location. 'My poor girl, my great hope, was lost, following your star. I can not find her.'

'Following me? She burns every bridge I try to cross!' Fire scorches the ground in a perverse illustration.

'Willing or not, you have led her.' Invisible claws gouge the canvas by my head. 'She gave everything to preserve your mockery of life.'

'What could I possibly gain from her destruction?' Light pours out of me, driving him back. 'I am not a goddess or a star. If you are Volibear, tell her to stop making sacrifices and reach out!'

'She can't.'

'Then I have nothing!'

Sejuani speaks again. Her voice is breaking. 'I believe in…'

'No!' I charge through the storm and plunge into her darkness. 'I don't want you to believe in me. I want you!' The bitter cold shatters my arm. I hold the bloody stump and wake up, screaming.

I can not sleep and it is killing me.

Today, we are escorting the Demacians through the wilds.

I wish I could have assigned the expedition to someone else. Headaches come and go, along with my intelligence and personality. The slowest movement smears across my vision like paint as my tired brain struggles to keep pace. Unfortunately, I bear a half-earned reputation as a master scout. The Demacians will expect the privilege of my expertise.

We cope. Tryndamere is well-versed in the field and covers the basics, which allows my wandering mind to dwell on those details with personal resonance. Jarvan and, curiously, Shyvana seem pleased with my gnomic rambling. It's the first time she has expressed something more than stoic belligerence. However, the moment is spoilt by Tryndamere whispering, 'I think you're in there.'

Garen has been quiet and restless. He is a man of heroic charges and armoured glory so I guess the landscape has no appeal outside a military campaign. One view makes him pause. There is an evergreen valley between ridges, nourished by the sun as it rises through twin peaks. In reverence, he puts away his sword. 'It's a shame that Quinn isn't here. She'd have loved this.' Clearly, he is interested in nature when it relates to people. I can understand his popularity with the common folk of Demacia.

I feel warm. Just hearing Quinn's name dispels my loneliness. Realising that another gay woman is highly esteemed makes the world a friendlier place. Even if her sexuality is hidden from her peers, the chimera of acceptance is better than nothing at all. 'It is good of you to think of her.'

Garen looks impressed. 'Were you introduced? I swear Valor talks more than she does.' I recall, too late, that I shouldn't know about Quinn.

My skin crawls when Jarvan smiles. I feel trapped. Fortunately, he does not pounce. 'Quinn talks plenty. You're just comparing her to Luxanna.'

The barb does not go unheard. Lux stamps her foot and sticks her tongue out. 'Bully.'

Garen interrupts. 'Goblin.'

While the siblings argue, Shyvana hangs her head in embarrassment. Xin Zhao chuckles. 'Ah, youthful energy. Such exuberance is a marvel on the battlefield.'

Are we making progress here? The Demacians are behaving like… normal people. Maybe the spirit of the Freljord has that effect.

No, it hasn't worked on Sejuani. For all her grand talk of wide open spaces and freedom, she trembles within a frozen cage. It would take more than a bracing view to overcome her dogged refusal of my hand, when she clearly wants me.

There goes my vanity… but she wears my bracelet! It is justified, surely?

Jarvan pulls me back to earth. 'You seem tired, Ashe.' He is watching me strangely. 'I pray this tour is not a strain on your health.'

'Not at all. It's my pleasure to share the Freljord with such honoured guests. If I seem dreary it's because I pale before its wondrous beauty.'

'I couldn't possibly agree but it speaks poorly of us both if we dwell on your appearance.' Jarvan is right, of course, but it wouldn't kill him to be human. With my bloodshot eyes and dry, heavy skin, I could use a bit of gallantry. 'Pardon the bird metaphor but Quinn is a night owl. If you had met, you would know that she is my eyes and ears after sundown. Your industry is impressive but you needn't prove to me that you run your domain at all hours.'

I can't give anything away. Focus… my body is water. Let the rivers become glass, each pupil, a mere window to the great beyond. They see nothing. Feel nothing. 'I am aware that she uses my training room at night… which she is welcome to, by the way… and is pleasant company but we have not spoken.'

Jarvan does not raise the subject again.