Faith – Chapter 10

One great relief is that I have the privacy to masturbate after a month near people with heightened senses. I could have snuck a few minutes here and there but I don't like rushing. I like to fantasise. I like to feel warm. If I can't have a body, I need a blanket, an embrace of a kind.

I can escape the world. I can fix my problems, renew my devotion to Sejuani and sate my hunger for Quinn.

I picture them both. I imagine others taking responsibility for them, punishing my failings.

I direct a scene where Quinn becomes Jarvan's bride. She's lying on her back while Jarvan's lean, hairy buttocks pump between her spread thighs. Her fingers tremble upon his back. She doesn't care for his masculine form but she's getting fucked well and it feels good. She's the Queen of Demacia, fulfilling her duty by reaching orgasm, over and over, night after night.

I could never compete with my furtive, poisonous love.

As Jarvan rises on locked arms to drive deeper, Quinn's breasts are lost in a shadowy blur. She wouldn't let me see them so the fantasy flickers then disperses. Picturing them is a violation too far.

So I move on, changing places with Sejuani, giving her the life I had. She looks regal in my dress and her crystal helmet. She marries Tryndamere. For her, it is no different from collaring a slave.

It is the night of the wedding. Sejuani keeps it simple. She hoists her own skirt, ensures her comfort with a generous amount of wheel grease, then informs Tryndamere her pleasure is beyond his remit.

For a minute or so, the room is quiet, except for the slapping of skin and irregular breathing.

Sejuani says, 'Done?'

Both of them exchange satisfied glances, like they've discovered a quick way of peeling a hundred potatoes, or weeding a garden.

With no painful experience holding them back, Sejuani and Tryndamere co-operate on having efficient, regular sex. Eventually, they grow comfortable enough that instead of grease, they use oral. I'm aroused and appalled at how their mighty bodies complement each other, and at how beautiful Sejuani looks when she's performing fellatio. There's no way she'd willingly do it for my foul catharsis.

I'm desperate to believe that she can enjoy loveless mating, free of the hooks of emotion that compel her to suffer my appetite.

When she becomes pregnant, she relaxes into her new role, forsaking war and filling her days with gentle activity. She takes up woodwork and wondrous creatures leap from her mind's eye. They stand in a protective arc around her baby's cot.

Sejuani wears her helmet less and less before stashing it away for a new generation of warriors.

Time passes. Muscle relaxes into flesh, widening her bottom and thighs. Bathed in sunlight, she holds up old armour before a mirror, sighing at her new proportions. Graciously, she gives up on transcendence and becomes a stern yet wise mother to her clan.

Tryndamere finally knows joy. He spoils the kids rotten, and makes a fuss of Sejuani's matronly form. She's more flattered than she lets on, and rewards him for good behaviour. He cheerfully accepts any boon without pressure or complaint. Their coupling persists beyond that of many passionate lovers.

It is… contentment.

I gaze into the night, arms on top of my blanket. When did I stop? Was my fantasy how the story should have gone? It was a peaceful, imperfect world with moments of happiness. There wasn't a meddling wretch called Ashe, destroying everyone for "love".

Wanting a place to hide forever, I pull the bedclothes over my head. As I roll onto my front, I grind into the lumpy mattress, aching for release. There's no way I'm sleeping until I finish what I started. I push my knuckles beneath my crotch and silence my grunts with a pillow.

I have to be quick and ruthless. Dwelling on my twisted, erotic innerscape will destroy me.

Sejuani wants Ashe the conqueror, the marauder, clad in black armour, festooned with barbs. I crush her tribe under my heel. Dragging her naked through the mud, I vow to destroy her legacy. I stake her to the ground on all fours then invite the whole Freljord to fuck her senseless. The Winter's Wrath will be known as the Winter's Whore.

Leaning in, I kiss her neck and stroke her back. I relish every tell-tale flex of muscle. Her trunk ripples from each thrust and slap. I don't think I've known a body so tough yet overtly sexual. Her enormous bosom and hind are a pornographic ideal. She can take all the pounding I can give her.

She clamps her jaws, pretending she can't feel it. I whisper, my tongue lapping at her ear, that she will come, however much she resists. Eventually, she will beg for it. She may defy me now but when she's broken, she'll be safe and happy, because I'll be there to look after her… my poor little Sejuani.

My brain snaps.

I don't want to come. As the warmth grows, I tremble. I can't subdue the filth pulsing through my core. My teeth rip a hole in the pillow. Down sprays across the room. Falling onto my back, I stare into the void and see my reflection.

I scream.

Footsteps approach like rats running over a coffin. I've woken up everyone. Volibear shouts, 'Ashe? What's happening?'

I feel the sea churn as I crawl to the door. 'Sorry,' I mumble, as if my low voice could send the crew back to sleep. 'Nothing's wrong. It was just a nightmare.'

'Do you remember anything? We're close to the Shadow Isles. The veil is growing thin. Your nightmare could have been a vision.'

I have to lie. 'Sorry, Volibear, I can't.'

'Fine,' he says. 'I won't force you to recall it but your information could save lives.'

Or give him nightmares in turn. 'Okay.'

While Volibear disperses the crowd, I hear a softer voice. 'Um, Ashe?'

'Quinn?'

'Are you going to be all right? Would it help if I stayed?'

I shouldn't risk my failing virtue but I'm scared of being alone with my thoughts. 'I don't have much room but I can sleep on the floor if you…'

'Don't be silly. Give me two minutes and I'll fetch my covers.'

There was only one spare cabin. Volibear couldn't fit anywhere private, so he chose the hold, where few people bothered him. Quinn, to my surprise, refused any personal accommodation to bunk with the crew. Sarah contended a plain girl with a mule's kick would have a peaceful time, compared with the "lusty barbarian wench". I have a long way to go before people respect our culture.

Quinn returns. I hear the rustling of her clothes, and every motion of her tongue and lips. I hear them touch and separate, swallow and sigh. Everything feels closer in the dark.

Furniture scrapes. Items clatter. 'Are you sure there's enough room?'

'Yeah, I'm only small.' She nestles into her bedding with a little growl of contentment. 'Oh, this is nice. You can feel the waves better this way.'

'I'm sorry that we can't share but…'

'I know,' she says with enough gentle force to shift our conversation. 'Do you want to talk about your nightmare?' Not really but she chases me down. 'Was it about Sejuani?'

'Yes, I was torturing her, making her do things… and I was enjoying it.'

'So that's why you couldn't tell Volibear.' The silence grows heavy. 'Was it because of us?'

'No. While our affair clearly bothers her more than she lets on, I don't need you to punish her.'

'Oh.' Quinn's disappointed.

'You give me cause for guilt in other ways. Our act isn't fair on you at all.'

'You're the one having nightmares.'

'I deserve them. Volibear doesn't know but I traumatised Sejuani, and she loves me for it.'

'How?'

Quinn, even a teenager like you must have some idea but you insist upon my humanity. 'That is for her to say. Forgive me if that sounds like an excuse but she's a proud woman. Just assume the worst.'

'Yet she loves you.'

'She does. I worry that I'll have to choose between accepting that love and keeping her safe. The further we go, the less I believe I can do both.'

'Can't she make that choice? What if you're worth the risk?' She's persuading me to accept someone's loyalty, but it's not Sejuani's.

'I rarely feel that I'm worth it. If I could save her then…'

'We'll save her.'

'Thank you.' Conviction is dangerously potent when expressed by a Demacian. 'I once believed I could unite us all with love, understanding and determination. When I found Sejuani, my dream came true, but also real.'

'It was the same for me,' says Quinn. 'I dreamt of becoming a knight and rescuing some fair maiden.' We both giggle. 'I thought everything would work out if I tried enough to do the right thing. All I did was cause trouble.'

'That's not a bad thing. We all need some trouble in our lives.'

'Let's hope His Majesty feels the same. He's been really quiet since our argument.'

'He sounded remorseful, if anything.'

'Of course, he went out of his way to promote a common scout, and I made him look a fool.'

I knew it. Sejuani was right. 'You were chosen by Jarvan himself?'

'Yeah, no recommendations or anything. He just showed up at our lodge and um… I was bundled into his carriage.' She laughs. 'I was curled up on the seat away from his legs. If the space were made for two people, it wasn't made for him.'

'Did they put him on the rack as a child?'

'We sometimes wonder. He bombarded me with questions about my family, my personal situation. I felt like a suspect.'

She can't be this blind, surely. 'Erm… Quinn?'

'Yes?'

'I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer without any quibbling.'

'I… um… what is it?'

'If Jarvan proposed, what would you say?'

Quinn bounces off the floor, banging my desk so hard that I wince. 'Pro… proposed? As in…?'

'Queen of Demacia.'

'Me? But…'

'Yes, you.' Quinn sounds like she's gasping for air. I press on. 'Don't act like you haven't thought about it. You're free of politics, a national hero, someone with a common touch. Within Jarvan's entourage, you're the prime candidate. What would you say?'

'But I can't, I'd have to provide an heir and…'

'Are you sterile?'

'How could I possibly know?' says Quinn. 'But that isn't the point. I can't sleep with a man. I can't have kids, ever.'

'Would you give your life for Demacia?'

'Of course!'

'Then how is this asking any more of you?'

'Because I'd rather die as me than live as someone else.'

'We change from day to day, Quinn. I've been so many people that I'm a stranger to myself,' or I've become too familiar. 'What if by changing yourself, you could change Demacia?'

'Change Demacia? How?'

'You tell me.'

'Well…' I hear her scratching. 'I'd want fairer taxes for small farmers. The flat rate is meant to reward hard work. In practice, the big farms gobble up the rest and abuse their privilege.'

'You speak from experience?'

'My family survive through goodwill but there's little future in that. Only so many times a neighbour will buy from you if it costs their child a new pair of shoes.'

'Okay, that's one thing. What else?'

Quinn grows in confidence. 'I'd repeal the sodomy laws. Inverted women don't exist, apparently, but if we can spare the men from castration and imprisonment, we could save lives, and gather support for our own cause.'

'Go on.'

She's in full flow. 'I'd replace conscription with national service. Everyone gets training and we'd have a more realistic idea of our standing army. We lose battles, left, right and centre because we think every peasant under twenty-five can swing a club.'

'If it would achieve all that, would you have children?'

Quinn chokes. 'I… I don't know. Maybe?' I think she's crying. 'I'm scared. It will hurt, and I'm still young and…'

'You're an adult. Even if you don't feel like one, people will expect you to fill that role.'

'But why are you saying all this? You of all people should understand!'

'I do, which is why I'm telling you to prepare yourself before it's too late. Other people will come at you with the same arguments I have. You need answers, not mine, not Jarvan's, but your own.'

'But I have an answer, it's…'

'You hesitated. When confronted with all you could achieve by saying "yes", you nearly folded. If you don't weigh your priorities, you will be defenceless, and you will be forced into a choice between compliance and oblivion. I was reckless enough to choose both. You saw where that led.'

'Okay.' She gathers her will. 'Queen of Demacia, do you really see that?'

'I think you'd go down in history, the brave little farm girl, earning recognition through grace of heart and force of arms. You'd be an inspiration.'

'Would I be selfish to walk away?'

'Not if there's a good reason. I made a lot of mistakes being "selfless".'

'Well, I'm glad I was one of them.' I can hear her smile. 'How did we end up discussing my marriage prospects when you're the one who's upset?'

'You've answered your own question. I'm going to sleep. Thank you for being here, and I'm sorry for giving you cause to worry.'

'Don't apologise. You were my first love, Ashe. I've missed you so much.'

'I missed you too, Quinn. So long as I'm not your last, I'm happy to be your first.'

'Ashe?'

'Hmm?'

'Can I hold your hand?'

'…Yes.'

Reaching out, she touches my knee by mistake. Her nails brush the sensitive rise of my lower thigh before sliding across my palm. She crushes my hand. I picture my body falling over into her tireless grip until I slip away.

After a beautiful, dreamless night, a voice urges me to wake. 'Ashe?'

I hear Quinn but I can't respond. I'm drunk on stasis.

I feel the blanket around my waist, her gaze upon my bare chest.

'You're like a painting.' Respectful touches draw the covers to my neck. 'I don't like the thought of you having nightmares when you look so peaceful. You never seem at ease. I'd feel better knowing you had some respite.'

She plays with my hair, sketching little patterns across my cheek.

'Sorry for tempting you again but…' her lips rest on mine. She places her offering and retreats without further claim. 'I never got a chance to kiss you goodbye when I first left your palace, and I may never get a chance again, so… goodbye.'

Quinn leaves with a tiny piece of my soul. I'm breathless like a fish on dry land. I have to let her go but all I want is my little piece back.

I can't have everything, so I grieve.