Prey – Chapter 5

The day of judgement is upon us.

Joyful speculation echoes through the palace, bringing warmth to every cold passage and dark recess. My throne room is awash in cheerful sound. Anivia and Tryndamere chat merrily, bonding over details. Even if they have different personalities, they both enjoy making elaborate plans, racing each other to the smallest variable. Anivia is one of nature's pedants while Tryndamere lived on fresh air, debating how far the wind might carry his scent, or whether his boots would survive a difficult road. I'm glad they're becoming friends. It gives me hope, enough that I can stay upright in silence rather than collapse on the floor.

My royal costume provides no support. When I first welcomed Jarvan's group, the spine of my corset was like a butcher's hook, suspending me for perusal. Now I barely feel my clothes. I may have lost a pound or two but nothing so drastic. My nerves are giving up.

Tryndamere is barking at me, like a puppy begging for attention. 'Ashe…? Oi! Ashe!' He clicks his fat fingers before my nose. 'Are you there?'

Forget jumping, I don't have the energy to blink. My head rotates like I'm directing a puppet from within. I swear that my joints creak. Does my throat require lubrication? A glass of wine… thick, ruby drops of Demacian juice? The memory of that sickening urge will haunt me forever. 'I'm... here.'

'You're very quiet.'

'I do apologise. Would you like more evidence of my perversion for your terrible jokes?'

'Always!' Tryndamere grins, a wide, arrogant display of teeth. Apparently, some women find that attractive. He's nowhere near as charming as he thinks. 'Ha hah… erm… in all seriousness, you look ill. Do you need anything?'

'More flattery would be nice.'

He shakes his head. 'I can't win with you.' If he abstained from treating every conversation like a game, that would help. 'You're the most stubborn person I've met, apart from…'

'If you say her name… or call her my "girlfriend"… I will kill you.' That's not hyperbole. My wavering sanity would crumble. After all these years, building a country where no one should live in fear, I must behave like a tyrant or become a fiend.

'Ashe…' Tryndamere leans in, resting an elbow on each knee. He's making his body look smaller, and closing the space, to invite confidence. It never fails to amaze and irritate, seeing the manipulative body language, absorbed from his martial training. He performs, by instinct, every trick I had to learn. 'It's been a long week. You're tired. I'm tired. We're all tired. Right now, I could name a hundred things I screwed up, chances I missed, clever comebacks to that blonde bitch with the gerbil in her snatch.' I should complain but Lux was a nightmare. Tryndamere gets a pass for that one. 'But it's over. All I'd be doing is working my bone.'

'Ugh, you can save that for your chamber.'

He slaps his thigh. 'That's more like it!' Don't get cocky, Tryndamere. I'm not thawed yet, and if I did recover my spark, it wouldn't be your doing. 'Whatever's eating you, just let it go.'

His advice is perfectly rational and utterly worthless. Ignore the ground rushing up since I've already plunged to my death, how deliciously male. Tryndamere is able to cope as everything is an anti-climax after watching his people die. He mistakes avoidable trauma for attainable wisdom. I hope there's another way to inner-peace. 'If only it were that simple.' I turn the conversation away from me. 'You've exceeded my efforts. Diplomacy might be your new calling.'

He grunts and looks appalled at the suggestion, like he'd carry off a ball gown. I suppose he'd look more at ease than Sejuani. My shoulders are at the upper limit of viability, and hers are much broader than mine. Darling Tryndamere has enough general bulk to go for the "mother bear" look. 'Huh, too dangerous, I'm more likely to die of boredom than battle, and it's easy to work the Demacians on our home ground. If we visited Ionia, I'd "upset the balance" and get us all killed.'

Anivia pipes up. 'Really, Tryndamere, how could you scorn rare praise from your cold mistress?' Once again, she is playing marriage counsellor, trying to shape us into loving parents of the modern Freljord. I get the worst of it, having the responsibility of an adult brain. Supposedly, Tryndamere doesn't know any better while I should have the maturity and nous to rise above my petulance. 'You should at least thank her before insisting on your modesty.'

'Ashe don't need to hear that from me.'

'That is no cause to be ignorant! Let Ashe decide her needs. A good husband should obey, not presume.' There's no way I'm getting involved. Anivia's romantic ideal of human behaviour has calcified over generations, and I know better than to challenge it. Her painful shriek lowers to a deep whistle that could be a sigh of exasperation. I'm still not fluent in her unique sounds and body language. 'If you insist on denying your talent, a proven warrior and statesman could easily defend our lands and maintain our treaties while Ashe and I court Ionia.'

Tryndamere gives her a sideways look. 'What are you planning, Vivi?'

'Nothing… yet.' Anivia spreads her plumage. The unwelcome blast of cold restores my feeling. 'So many possibilities, I've enjoyed this week!'

Anivia's timing is perfect. I am able to rise before the Demacians file into the courtroom. Asking Tryndamere for help would have been shameful. Alone, I take the centre, leaving my friends behind. I would prefer to stand with them but I fear my expression will betray me.

The Demacians are unreadable. Even Lux is cold and severe. Her colourful, cracked persona distorts her monstrous intellect. Seen clearly, her divergent aspects form one hydra of military and ambassadorial experience, now marshalled against us.

Quinn is the only gap in their armour, cowering at Jarvan's left hand. With her feathered cape around her ears, the bird of prey resembles a doomed chicken trying, in vain, to hide its neck. Amber eyes draw patterns in the ground. She would sooner keep a low profile but, ominously, Jarvan has dragged her up front. He gives nothing away. Despite my efforts to find common ground, we had never truly bonded. His ratty hair and comic asides were smoke before steel.

When Jarvan speaks, it is mercifully plain. 'With regret, I must decline your terms.' I feel every echo of my country's disappointment, a tolling of hopeful hearts pounded with a sledge hammer, everyone's hard work dashed by means beyond their knowledge.

A force, even more pitiless than gravity, keeps my body upright, my breathing stable. It locks away my shattered mind where it can do no harm, leaving a husk, a model queen performing as it should. No reckless will diverts my limbs, my eyes or my voice. I think I say something. I don't know.

Jarvan answers. 'You have good intentions. Your economy and infrastructure are poor but should improve. I'm advised that your long-term plans are "careful and congruent".' Was that Lux? The phrase recalls her academic twang. After all her aggression, that's a small victory for us. I need to take what I can get. Lux herself betrays nothing. 'I will confess that I expected more posturing. You have… knowledge beyond your years.' Not "wisdom". The implication isn't lost on me. I'm vaguely bothered as he's not yet thirty. My character is fair game but he hasn't earned enough grey to judge my youth. 'Conversely, your enemies are a threat but their aggression is not sustainable. If you weather their onslaught and maintain your course, your growth will put theirs to shame.'

He underestimates both Lissandra's evil and Sejuani's endurance but neither is building a civilisation. I am glad an outsider recognises the merit of my long-term approach. 'Our forces will be pleased to hear that. Your judgement carries weight.'

'Thank you but your patience will serve better than military zeal. I advise that you keep my confidence to yourself.'

A polite way of saying that he doesn't want his name dragged into my war. 'Discretion is my watchword.'

Jarvan glares. I half-expect him to silence my hypocrisy by lancing my throat. 'You should exercise more. There is chaos here in the Freljord, hidden… currents that may disrupt the best laid plans of our greatest minds.' He glances towards Lux, whose mask falters. Anger and frustration make her jaw twitch and nostrils flare. Realisation hits me. Lux wanted this alliance and had likely spent every waking hour plotting her glorious campaign on my behalf. The Freljord was to be her proving, and I stole her chance to shine. 'Until such things are under control, I must withhold my support. If that seems harsh or petty, know this. Demacia commits fully. If I swear to die by your side, I will not have shifting sands make me a fool or a knave! Am I clear?'

As clear as virgin glass, unlike the queen of the Freljord who breaks her life into pieces and changes colour like a lizard. Quinn is playing with her hands. I'm not sure if I could bear her attention.

This time, instead of using empty diplomacy, I think about my answer. The room is silent for a long time but almost peaceful. My conscious act of engagement is not lost on Jarvan. I sense that he approves. Finally, I speak. 'Yes, I am honoured by your wisdom and integrity. Whatever doubts you have, I pray that you think well of the Avarosan. If I did not convey their faith, honesty and temperance, I am wholly to blame.'

He softens the deep knit of his brow and the grip on his lance. Though my shame is enduring, my acknowledgement was true. 'That is a fine request. I thank you for your hospitality and wish you luck in your endeavours.'

'May the chill wind be always at your back.'

The Demacians begin to leave. It is done. I must retire for a spell and reflect on my sins. The others will have questions but I can't face them now. Just as I dare to breathe, a familiar voice pulls me back to earth. Once again, my body is at the tender mercies of lonely, desperate Ashe.

'Your Majesty?'

Quinn stands alone, her arms raised and curled like those of a beaten dog, a visible tremor blurring her nails. Having spoken out of turn, I don't know if she dreads punishment from her side or mine. 'I… I'm Quinn. I spied on your affairs and… I didn't want to say anything, but…' she keeps turning her head, as though expecting a knife in the back. 'I had to… for Demacia…'

I recover my wits before she provokes Jarvan or my allies. 'You gain nothing by telling me this. Take your victory and leave before you jeopardise yourself.'

Quinn scurries near as if pushed by an invisible hand. 'You were so good to me and I… I…' the rising force of her rapid breathing tears her repentance in two. She pants like a sacrificial lamb. In twisted empathy, I can feel her tortured lungs burn and convulse.

The Demacians exchange loaded glances but will not intervene before Jarvan, who simply watches without expression. He planned for this. I would have done so in his place.

Quinn totters but, with a loud sniff, she pounds her chest and finds the will to prolong her speech. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… There was no way out! I ran in circles and every path led me to betrayal!' She unfurls her limp, tired arms and lifts her quavering chin, a mockery of Demacian pride. 'I only hope that if we meet in battle, your arrow finds my heart.'

I lose it.

These hands, archer's hands, can't even make a tight fist, yet I punch Quinn so hard that she takes flight. Small, strong Quinn, whose powerful body should absorb all of my pathetic abuse… but I can hurt her… I can hurt her so much.

I bet Sejuani would love this. You'd be proud of me, your mighty goddess raining thunderbolts upon the weak.

Well, fuck you, Sejuani, and fuck me even harder for fucking up this poor little girl.

I hear the rattle of Demacian weapons, feel the glow of Lux's magic and the heat of Shyvana's flame. Is this the end? Will my legacy be war over a stupid affair? The skalds would make hay for years.

Nothing happens. Beyond Quinn, I see Jarvan holding back the tides of war. His palm stills the draconic rage of Shyvana, while his lance bars Garen and Xin Zhao from cleaving my ribs and skewering my gut. Only one person remains free to land the first blow, and reclaim her starring role in history, but Lux withholds her vengeance. The wand of luminosity bears a protective halo, not shining death.

Jarvan is not a prince taking charge. He is a proud slave bullied into submission. There is no satisfaction in what he does. Ancient morals compel him. As the Exemplar of Demacia, he believes in the supremacy of justice. Here, there is but one choice, appear weak, let my insult go unpunished.

I bathe in lies and filth but all my shame could not veil the scar of Quinn's treachery. This dirty scoundrel is owed restitution.

Quinn dabs the cut on her lip. I offer my hand. When she gingerly accepts, I drag her upright and lock my arm around her neck, my chest against hers, the wings of a hummingbird. She does not miss a thought as I mouth whispered words upon her cheek.

'I am sick and tired of my lovers asking me to kill them. When we meet again, it will be painful and awkward. There will be tears and apologies but I will never want you dead… for as long as you live, there will always be a little piece of my heart outside my body.'

Quinn drives her claw into my trapezius. We can't risk an embrace. Our mutual pain is the deepest kiss. 'I… I knew from the start. Your hair and your clothes were different but… your eyes… I could never mistake them. When I looked up at your balcony, it was like seeing colours after a lifetime in darkness. They were as blue as an empty sky… and lonely as a naked sun. All I wanted was to fly into your depths.'

'Oh, Quinn.' Please don't love me. You deserve a normal life and a pretty, sensible girl, not like me and Sejuani. Leave us to our miserable, tangled waltz.

'Everything was real. I didn't mean to entrap you but I couldn't help myself. I wanted you so badly. Everything was real!'

'Hush, Quinn.' I release the chokehold and push my thumbs into each temple, forcing her to look at me. 'I backed you into a corner. Duty and desire tore you apart, and the only way out was through me.' No matter where my path leads, those amber eyes will follow. 'You did nothing wrong.'

'But…'

'No buts… if you love me… then love my weakness.' I wrap a lock of Quinn's hair around my finger then pull, breaking the strands. They will have a place in my box of memories, a wicked trophy. When I have atoned, I will suck away the dye, revealing her true colours. 'And love yourself because you're the biggest weakness of them all.'

Quinn stands at full height, bearing her cross without shame. For one glorious moment, she views me as an equal. Her courage is promptly exhausted but it's a new, valiant beginning. 'I'll try,' she says. 'Goodbye, Your Majesty.'

'No, my dear lynx, to you, I'm just "Ashe", now and forever.' I'm struck by an overwhelming need. Say my real name, Quinn… just once.

Her lips draw back from her teeth, an embryonic smile that, one day, will move mountains with broad, rakish charm. 'And you will always be Queen of my heart… Ashe.'

Quinn turns and the Demacians reel. Their shy, innocent girl had fallen before them and emerged from her twisted ovule, a grown, blooded woman.

I owed my court an explanation but I needed solitude. After punishing loyal subjects with abnegation, I'm obliged to pamper myself before I endanger them. Three days, I cower in my bedroom, ignoring food, guzzling wine and sketching out awful prose. My back hurts from inactivity.

There is a loud knock, several times a day, but I don't answer. The visitor has too much discretion to linger, or not enough patience. I don't care which.

Am I neglecting my role? The Avarosan could prosper without my destructive guidance. They should be allied with Jarvan, rid of Sejuani. Lissandra's corrupted remnants would fall to pure numbers. I see my people rejoice at their victory, finally complete, not forgone by the romantic whims of an overgrown child pretending to be Queen.

Hopefully, they'll march a revolution through the door and kill me. Divine intervention won't spare my life again.

Avarosa… did you love the wrong person? Of course you did. You loved me.

I'm under my pillow, savouring the dark, when a splintering crash heralds unwelcome light. Alarm bells do not sound. It is not death, only Tryndamere. With a loud grunt, he uses a wardrobe to block any more visitors then carries a chair to my side. Frankly, I would have preferred that he sat on the bed. He shows me too much respect… or distrust.

I have the energy to speak, barely. 'You want an explanation.'

'I know you'll give me one, eventually… an explanation, that is, not eh… heh heh.' Tryndamere's granting me cause to loathe him, rather than myself. It's a kind offer but I don't have the will to bite. 'Nah, just making sure you're not dead. Can smell it normally but can't be too careful.'

'I'm not dead.'

'Yeah, I guessed from all the breathing and talking.' He winks. 'Plenty others want to give a second opinion, if you'd like.'

'I can imagine.' All those people making a fuss, tying each other in knots, dancing around the forbidden subject of their queen's bodily functions. The pious may diagnose me with chronic perversion and put me on a diet of parsnips. I'd sooner bear Tryndamere's "wit". 'How is everyone?'

He shrugs. 'All right. Weather's cold. Hunting's bad. Sej and Liss are off licking their wounds. Might as well be a golden age by our standards. I'm bored out of my skull.'

'No Demacians to play with.' I nestle deeper. 'Sorry.'

Tryndamere waves off my apology. 'Ah, it's not a big deal. We haven't lost anything but our time and hospitality. No one's dead.'

'If the war drags on, more lives…'

'The future's not here. Sej could wake up on the right side of the bed and stop fighting. Our little game with Jarvan would be irrelevant.'

He is torturing me with hope. 'Yes, and the Freljord might grow sails and bear us to a land of milk and honey.'

'Fine, bad example, but she could fall sick and plunge her tribe into civil war. My point is that we don't know what problems will come, so we tackle the problems we have.' Ugh, this is why I govern our realm. One of these days, I'll lash Tryndamere to a desk and lecture him on forward planning. 'Right now, we're more concerned about you. Vivian's been flapping like there's a torch up her arse. The blizzards are a nightmare.'

That sounds like Anivia. For a busybody, she never did appreciate her environmental impact. I'm the only person who tells her off. 'Make her do it outside.'

'I can't. If I throw my weight around then…' Tryndamere sighs. 'Look, it was me who insisted on your privacy. There are rumours that I'm keeping you out of the picture so I can do things my way. I've had to keep a low profile.'

I'm disappointed in my court. 'They should know you better.' He's never been interested in politics. I wouldn't have married him, otherwise.

'No one cares enough to know me… and that's fine.' He still carries his old, nomadic life, an island above raging tides. Could he fear the pain of losing another tribe? 'Sooner have my place than yours.'

I hope that's a preference and not a reaction. 'What are they saying about me?'

'Does it matter?' He sounds frustrated, weary of idle speculation. 'You know what happened. It won't do you any good to know how wrong people are.'

These things are important. If I knew hidden presumptions, I could navigate choppy waters. 'Public opinion is…'

'Like mist before the dawn. It'll be gone once you open your mouth.'

If only it were that simple. Yes, my divine right can end arguments but we shouldn't overestimate... and Tryndamere has opinions of his own. He's dropped enough hints. I think it's high time he made them plain. 'What do you think?'

'I'm not playing, Ashe. You can tell me straight or not at all. You don't get to hear me out and say that I'm wrong.'

I throw aside my pillow and track the ceiling in moody silence. 'You're not wrong. Say it.'

'You're into women, and you fucked the little bird girl.'

It's not like I imagined. No weight leaves my chest. I feel cold and pathetic. Life doesn't start again. Your past remains, all your old mistakes, regrets and obligations. 'I couldn't sleep at night, so I went to the archery range, where I met Quinn. I thought she didn't recognise me so I pretended to be someone else and… seduced her… though she might have seduced me. I don't know.'

Tryndamere nods, like I'd given the right answer in a classroom. 'That was very stupid.'

My strength rushes back to power my raised voice. 'I didn't do it to be clever! I did it because…'

'I know. You did it for the same stupid reason as everyone else. Like there's a man alive who's not made a fool by some pretty girl…' he stops and looks at me. The wheels turn. 'Or boy, I guess. The point is, you have a normal weakness, and you deal with it like a grown-up, not sit on a frozen rock and hope it'll go away.'

This is unbearable. How can this lump reduce the pain of loneliness to a common rash? It might be that simple for him but he doesn't have to scramble in the dark, sniffing out a depressingly small portion of humanity. 'So the wise Tryndamere has a cure for love, a need that has plagued every generation from the dawn of time. I already know how to masturbate so keep your hands where I can see them.'

'You're getting a concubine.'

I sit upright with enough speed that my side threatens to cramp. 'What?'

He gestures to my surroundings. 'You are Queen. It's not like you're short of…'

My head feels woozy. I strike my palms into the mattress before I topple. 'You're missing the point.' I slow my breathing until the dizziness fades. 'Yes, I have the means but I can't… leverage some poor woman to…'

'Warm your bed and live in a palace?' Tryndamere laughs. 'Compared to sowing seeds, mending clothes and birthing labourers in a frozen shack, it's a dream come true.'

'Who dreams of becoming a whore?' I'd like to think my people have some pride. If Sejuani heard our talk, she'd give me the wrong kind of tongue lashing then redouble her crusade.

'Not a "whore",' Tryndamere frowns like I've been rude, 'a companion to the greatest leader the Freljord has ever known.'

I blow out my cheeks. 'Oh, please. I'm not even the greatest leader in this room.'

'Why? Because you slept with the wrong person?' Tryndamere spreads his thighs even wider, as if he didn't command enough space. 'If you knew even half of my exploits…'

'I'll take your word for it.' I fish around in my drawer for a brush and start putting my hair in order. It's so greasy. After all that wine, I must look and smell worse than a cheap harlot. 'I know you mean well but, even if I…' considering the possibility makes me nauseous, 'hired a concubine, I need more than just…'

'…an affair with a plain runt of a Demacian who crossed your path, yes, but it didn't stop you.'

I glare at him. 'Don't call her plain. If you can't see Quinn's beauty then that's your loss.'

For once in his life, Tryndamere looks ashamed of his words. 'No doubt.' He looks at me with new respect. 'You've got a big heart under all that ice. Few people stand by their mistakes and even fewer stand by their loins. I think that's why I follow you and not Sej. A cow like that would stomp out her "weakness", make others pay for her shortcomings.'

'I don't think she's one to shift blame.'

'Neither do I, but she's got it backwards. Her failing is mercy and bloodshed is her way of making up.' He shakes his head. 'Either way, the bitch isn't the one bearing the consequences, while you have the courage to fall. That's the strength of a barbarian!'

It doesn't fit my self-image but that is high praise from Tryndamere. 'Thank you, I guess, but I lack certain… qualities,' no beard or bellow for a start, 'and there are limits to my courage, shadows I can't face.' The wolf lurks in my breast. I assumed the right thing would always come naturally, but no… I am a carnivore, and I will feed if I do not constrain or destroy my appetite. Acceptance is unthinkable. I should love and cherish women but, instead, I consume little red-haired girls.

'No one should gaze into the void,' says Tryndamere. 'You just have to fight it. Whether you strike to kill or swing your sword, the effect is the same. You know, I can't use my rage without fooling. My clan died only once… but you ask my body and they died a thousand times. Do you follow?'

'So performing love can have the same effect as the real thing? I don't agree.'

'No, I'm saying you will perform it, even if you're alone. Imagine gasping for breath underwater. That's what happened with Quinn. If you need air that badly, and it's not forthcoming, you'll seek it in all the wrong places. Better you have something in the right place.' Tryndamere bows under the weight of his quietly spoken words. 'I know what it's like. This… anger never cools, and if I don't give it a purpose, it finds one. I'm not creative. All I can do is recall my darkest hour… and every massacre in my brain is like spitting on deaths that really happened.'

As a child, I was self-absorbed to a fault. Even now, I'm dwelling on my flaws rather Tryndamere's pain. 'I'm sorry. My teenage angst is…'

'A welcome distraction.' Tryndamere says brightly. 'We'll go for a walk. It'll be fun. You can find someone you like and I'll find someone you can trust. Right now, you're feeling burnt so there's no pressure… but you have to do something or history will repeat itself.'

I picture us roaming the countryside, openly scouting women. 'You're not the slightest bit worried that you'll appear weak or impotent?'

'Nah, everybody knows you're in charge. This'll reinforce your legend. Ashe… a queen of such wild hunger that even I could not satisfy her!' So it's good that I am a pervert and he is inadequate? I don't understand him. Everything is a joke and he's behaving like an audience rather than a punchline. I think that wandering the blank wastes of the Freljord has overly heightened his enjoyment of absurdity and sense of detachment. 'Your people don't need a saint, they need a goddess.'

That word again! 'I'm not a goddess!'

'Hah! Obviously! You drink, sulk and fuck with the best of us mortals... though I bet Quinn was giving praise at your feet. Am I right?'

'Leave her alone, you brute!' I nearly smirk with pride at my "conquest". Ugh, the last thing I need is to be one of the boys, mocking women who are forthright and generous enough to sleep with me, but I'm so relieved by Tryndamere's indifference that I'll catch any line thrown my way. I never thought my desire could be a simple cause for levity. For once, I feel normal. 'You've known about my… tastes for a while, haven't you?'

'I had my suspicions. There are mutterings that you fooled around with girls before you took charge but you hear that talk everywhere, comes with being noble.'

I wonder if Sejuani gets that from her tribe. Our forces like to make rude comments about her relationship with Bristle. I've seen the graffiti. Some of it is… disturbingly vivid. 'If you don't put any stock in rumour then what gave me away?'

'Sejuani.'

My breath catches. Anything but that! My obsession is a far greater crime than stray glances. I must choose my words carefully, not give myself away through denial. 'She is very attractive, despite her ugly thoughts, but she is one handsome woman of many. Why Sejuani?'

Tryndamere shuffles, like he's gearing up for a long explanation. 'When you captured her, she tried to kill herself by not eating.' He dismisses her bravado with a sweep of his hand. 'Tribal nonsense, I've done it myself, but I got this feeling that… I had no proof, but I got this feeling that she was trying to impress you.'

'That kind of blackmail really doesn't impress me.'

'I figured. After your display, Quinn won't forget anytime soon. By the way, that was a very good straight punch. First time you've kept your elbows in.' He taps on his skull. 'Back to Sej, I was curious enough to pry further into what makes her tick.' He raises both palms in supplication. 'I, er… look, I'm not proud of this but I tried to open her up by talking you down.'

I'm relieved by Tryndamere's confession. It's not like I've been charitable. 'I'm Queen. Everyone gossips about me.'

'Well, I shouldn't. In my head, you were just an ambitious dreamer. I didn't fully get that you were a person with… feelings.' That's a hard word for Tryndamere to pronounce. 'I'm sorry.'

Was I that distant? So long, I was tunnelled into my goals. You can seem very cold in the depths of ardour, free of doubt, sympathy and weakness. 'Apology accepted. Thank you.'

Tryndamere nods with gratitude. 'Sej was… weird, far too preoccupied with the "lie" of our marriage, and she wanted to crush the Avarosan to preserve your honour.'

Oh, Sejuani, it's wonderful, romantic and deeply frustrating, how you strive to be my champion. Why must you channel such a noble urge in such a horrid way? 'The Winter's Claw have been around for generations. Our feud is not personal.'

'She has other goals, yeah, but you're one of them… and the way she puffs out her chest and marks her territory like a man with tits, I began to wonder if she liked you.'

'Am I a man with tits?'

'I'm just saying how it went down. You're a fighter, Ashe. You make snap judgements or you take a knife in the back.' We're not discussing a fight. His metaphor doesn't stretch but he's right about one thing. I'm guilty of the same. The full sermon can wait until my flaws aren't under the magnifying lens. 'Now, my hunch could have been wrong, and four eyes are better than two, right?'

My nails dig into my palms. 'Whom did you tell?' If every guard in my palace knows about this, Tryndamere will pay.

'I'm talking about you. If Sej wanted your babies, you'd react.' He could have made his point without giving me a stroke. The thought of Sejuani carrying children makes up for it. Experience of growing heavy, slow and vulnerable could soften her edge, though she'd be a total bear upon giving birth.

I picture myself, holding Sejuani's warm back and stroking her pale bangs from her misty blue eyes while her body trembles with morning sickness. I nearly black out with emotion. Tryndamere's words pass me by until I gather my wits.

'…and sure enough, you grew restless and paranoid, like you were scared of being jumped.'

I quickly remember how to form sentences. 'I don't think any of us could rest with Sejuani here.'

'Well, no… I could put most of it down to stress and the fear of a rescue attempt.' He goes quiet.

This isn't like him. 'Tryndamere?'

'This is the hard part.' He stares into space and locks both hands before his mouth. 'I've been hiding something.'

'That's… not like you.' If Tryndamere has an agenda, my life will be turned upside-down. 'Wh… what have you…?' My question fades into nothing.

'I was… the night Sej gave us the laugh, I was on "Udyr Patrol". No reason, I was bored. It happens a lot. He didn't get anywhere near the palace. It was an inside job.' I can't look at him. Grasping my legs, I draw the fur to my chin. 'And there was one person, Ashe, one woman set on keeping Sej alive.' I shut my eyes and curl tighter. I wish I were more flexible so I could hide from the world, like a frightened hedgehog. 'The crazy thing is that you could have released her in public and I wouldn't have batted an eyelid. We might have disagreed but, hey, that's you. Mercy's your thing. No one here would question your intent… so why would you cover it up, unless there was a deeper motivation… one that would cause you to abandon all sense…'

If I had the energy to scream, I would shatter his bones. All that comes out is an empty wheeze. 'Are you going to make me say it? Why should I give you the satisfaction?'

'Because your silence will cost you everything,' says Tryndamere flatly. Raising the subject has drained him. For all his banter, he rarely confronts me. I guess he likes to keep his battles physical. 'This may come as a surprise but I give a damn about you. Reclaim your life before you destroy it.'

My frail body can't endure this. Every harsh gulp of air shreds my lungs. My abdominals flex and crush. 'I… I let her go. I didn't want her to die… because… I want her…'

Tryndamere finally shifts onto the bed. He supports me while I cry all the pain out of my system. It's remarkable, how a man so large can have so little presence. I can't even smell him. When we consummated our marriage it was like being mounted by a rock. I'm not sure if I'm blind to men or if solid emptiness wells from his deep trauma. 'You don't have to justify it. Yeah, you should let her go, but you know that already.' He sighs. 'We're at a stalemate. Even if you had the will, assaulting her territory is madness. I can't do it on your behalf without Jarvan.' He's trying to help in his way, grounding nebulous passion with logistics. The former is untouchable, the latter is merely unworkable. 'We can't rely on Sej to force your hand because her tribe have gone into hibernation. I can guess why but… you would know better…' he waits for me to supply the missing knowledge.

'She loves me... but hates our way of life, and it's tearing her apart.'

'Well, there's no accounting for taste.' He can't resist an opening. I'd slap him but I'd only scratch my palm on stubble. 'I don't think she'll compromise until...' even Tryndamere has enough discretion to let me take that step.

I can. If Sejuani is facing the void, I should not look away. 'She died once.' Volibear's accusation thunders like a drumbeat. 'I think she's dying now.'

'One of your visions?' I nod in reply. 'That would explain her absence. For all her talk, I don't think she was built for this place, too inflexible. She'd have made a better Demacian.'

'If you told her that, we'd have our old foe back in no time.' Tryndamere has a point. I could imagine her in Shyvana's role. I could definitely put Sejuani in that dress. 'You know, I think Quinn would have made a fine Avarosan... I'm not sure where I'd fit.'

'You're the most Freljordian person I know! Can't think of anyone more fit to rule a messed-up whirlwind of tangled ravines and frozen beauty.'

'Thank you.' The first vote of confidence after my public failure. 'And I can't imagine a better consort. You knew my secrets all along but never left my side, in court or in battle.'

'I just keep going. Honestly, I don't know any other way.'

'I hope you never learn.' I rest my head on Tryndamere's chest. 'Even if my dreams come true, your place is here.'

'Means a lot to hear that. I spend enough time feeling like an obstacle.' He squeezes my shoulder. 'Once all this is over, I'd like to see the world, give you a bit of room to socialise your new girl. I think being "Tryndamere, the Royal Adventurer" sounds more fun than being a third wheel.'

'Hmm, I don't know.' I trace his pectoral and follow his breastbone downwards. 'Being a third wheel could be fun and you do have to provide an heir.'

'I'm sure you're a good lay with the right partner but after our wedding night, I'd sooner get a baster from the kitchen.' Ugh, that seems like a rather inauspicious beginning for an heir to the Freljord. However, Tryndamere's right. We shouldn't make each other miserable. 'And everyone who gets naked with you winds up asking for death.'

'Yes... I do have that effect.'

'You know how to pick them.' He tousles my hair. 'Back with us?'

I could step outside and go through the motions but my people deserve better. Who am I to the Avarosan? A child of destiny, a lonesome conduit for the past, present and future? On a mountain side, in the dead of night, every distant fire touches me. I revealed my forge to Quinn, showed her what I had forgotten.

With open eyes, I must return.

'I don't know... is there anything that requires my personal attention?'

'Everything's quiet.' He looks at me with concern. 'I hope you're going on a trip and not locking yourself in here for a month.'

'I'd like to spend some time in the field.'

Tryndamere beams with approval. I thought that would appeal to his outdoor nature. 'Sounds good! We can look after things while you're gone. As far as the troops know, you punched out a Demacian spy in front of Prince Jarvan. They love it.'

'And the rest of our court?'

'They're…' Tryndamere falters, 'confused and upset.'

'Of course.' I'm relieved. In the midst of all this chaos, disappointment is a normal response. 'They have every right to be.'

'I can fill them in but most of our crowd have loose lips, and you're better at keeping them shut.'

'What do you recommend?'

Tryndamere is clearly surprised by my faith in his judgement. 'Erm... it's a risk but I'd tell Vivian.'

'Seriously?' Are we talking about the same Anivia? She'd explode and resurrect five times in one day.

'Sej is our biggest problem. We don't know what's up with her, and that's dangerous. If you weren't mistaken and she was a corpse, I've no idea what actually came back. Viv's made that trip hundreds of times. Yeah, she loves drama but giving her a head-start might warrant the headache.'

'Do you think my... connection to Sejuani is relevant?'

'No idea but it wouldn't surprise me. The undead go for that sort of thing.'

'Okay,' I was dreading the revelation to Anivia. Ruining her little fairy tale would bring enough squawking and snowstorms to wake my ancestors and hurl them into the sea. 'If you could tell Anivia in my absence, I would be… very grateful.'

Tryndamere laughs. 'Are you going to be pure filth because I know you don't mean it?'

'Maybe.'

'I might stick around after all.'

I venture into the Freljord, bearing the same equipment as a common scout and enough ink and vellum to record my dreams. If I can make "Sian" and "Ashe" one and the same, that would be a fitting homage to my dear Quinn, my hunter and my victim.

Sejuani, we bare claws and spill blood. On our frozen battlefield, we lock horns to decide the greatest predator.

Perhaps, we are both prey.