"You're annoying, you know that?" Soraka stepped around Illaoi for the third time. The priestess and her giant rock seemed to be in the way: in front of the table, too close to the beds, or directly in her path. Again. "I'm trying to work here."
"Curiosity never hurt anybody." Illaoi watched Soraka move about with keen skepticism. She was no medic herself, but she knew there was a supernatural element to the care going on under this roof. Sejuani was proof that her host was more complex than she appeared.
After dropping Quinn off in the back room, Illaoi had taken a closer look at Frostheld's boogieman. Lying amidst the white sheets without her furs, Sejuani could have been pegged for a common woman had she not built up a reputation to match her scars. Her angular face was without its usual frown and her white hair took a break from being trapped under the prison of her helmet. Though her eyes were shut, Illaoi could remember the color without having to think very hard. They were the same enticing blue as the sea; if she looked too deeply she could easily get lost in them.
In the three days Sejuani had been in their host's care, not only had the necrotic effects of frostbite been removed, but the deep puncture wounds were the size of pinholes. What was more amazing was the state of Sejuani's chest. The edges of the ragged cut were coming weaving a web of new skin at the speed of a skilled seamstress. It was nothing short of a miracle. No dried leaves or powder could do that.
Quinn was not experiencing the same care as the warlord. She groaned from her makeshift bed near the fire. Apparently this back room was not meant to accommodate more than one patient, or fugitive in this case, at a time. To work around this issue, Soraka had thrown together a bed of furs in the only available spot. Unfortunately that meant Valor could not roost near his partner and had to wait elsewhere.
Illaoi was not so easily dissuaded by physical discomforts such as cramped rooms or confined areas. She stood steadfast through a barrage of threats aimed at a general audience and detailed instructions of how the person responsible for Quinn's current state could go fuck themselves. It was a good thing Illaoi had weathered storms worse than this.
"Auugh!" Soraka finally stopped her task and let out her frustrations. She hadn't stopped moving the second Illaoi walked past the threshold with the insensible Quinn. Just watching her made the priestess feel that she needed to be doing something too, but bedside nursing was not her specialty. She had to let go and let the professional take charge.
Up until she had stopped, the healer had been stirring a concoction of ingredients into a medium sized bowl. The table was littered with unfinished elixirs and loose papers. Occasionally Soraka would refer to one of the sheets, but she usually shook her head and grumbled something about doing what she wanted. It was all very strange and the product did not seem to be working for Quinn. The bruises on her neck were still as purple as ever and color had yet to return to her cheeks.
"This is stupid!" Soraka screeched. A beat later a glass jar crashed onto the floor and spilled its unappealing contents everywhere. "I can't! AuuggHHH!" Another scream was drawn from her troubled mind. It was unsettling to hear, but what was worse was the quietness.
Thank god it did not last long.
Another pot smashed next to the one on the floor. Then another. And another.
"Illaoi? S-stop it! What're you— stop! No!" Soraka tried to pry the containers from Illaoi's hands, but it was no use. She was forced to watch as the priestess destroyed her work one jar at a time.
"You said it yourself: this is stupid. You are stupid. You can do better than this. Learn from this mistake."
All Soraka could do was gape. She had spent months procuring those ingredients and done numerous demeaning favors in order to acquire rare elements of her craft. And now it was on the floor. Useless!
"How dare you."
"You can't live like this."
"No," Soraka whispered, "No, do no— DO NOT!— tell me what to do!" She swept the remaining items off the table in one vicious stroke. The Eye of God would have fallen as well, had it not been for its significant weight. "You have your god and I had my medicine, but now I have nothing. Nothing!"
"We aren't without either. You have forgotten."
"Forgotten? Forgotten?!" Soraka looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She was no better than the hated Lissandra. "I did not forget. How could I forget this cursed magic? I suppressed it for as long as I could. It was what made me different. Ugly. I'd trade my life for it to be gone."
"Don't gamble. You'll lose not just your talent, but your life."
Instantly the woman's body tensed up.
"What is it that you think I do, Illaoi? Do you think I play games?" Soraka fixed her bloodshot glare on Illaoi. "Do you believe I can call down the gods to do what I say? Or do you think I am a witch capable of resurrecting the dead? Perhaps you assumed I was all seeing? Did you guess that I played god?! Was that it?!" Each iteration increased in pitch until she was howling again.
"If you could resurrect anyone, this nation would be bringing you their dead queen."
"What're you saying?"
"Ashe is dead."
"No! Don't lie to me! Just-" Soraka raked shaky hands through her hair. "Just shut up for a second."
Minutes ticked by slowly. When the healer spoke again she was more composed.
"Did you say Ashe was dead?"
"Yes."
"Where did you hear that?"
"Today."
"I said where."
"Doesn't matter."
"I said where, Illaoi." Hysteria was beginning to creep back into her voice.
"Outside. I met Braum and he told me it was a rumor."
"So Braum knows."
"All of Freljord knows, apparently. What will the king do?"
"I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore."
"It does for those who live here."
"Like I said, it doesn't matter."
Soraka waded through the chaos and was about to exit when Illaoi caught her arm.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to take a nap." Illaoi's arm was shaken off. Soraka was tired, oh so tired. Healing Sejuani had taken so much energy from her, she had nothing to help Quinn with. Those nasty bruises would have to wait. For now she had to take care of herself.
...
Illaoi slept near Sejuani that evening. Soraka had taken the room she and Quinn had slept in the first few days and had not come out again. It was her house after all, so Illaoi had taken to the back room with the other guests. Quinn had fallen into a fitful rest in which she spoke to a person whom no one could see.
The hours passed. Illaoi found that she could not be soothed; she wanted Nagakabouros to talk to her, to tell her to come home. It was a childish response to the restlessness she was feeling in Freljord, nevertheless if the Mother so much as hinted at a return voyage Illaoi would have walked on water to reach Bilgewater. Her desire to leave was strong.
Outside the night crept forward. A new moon would be rising soon and the world would have a chance to reflect on its actions in the dark. That time would be spent wisely by fiends and spirits who conducted their dealings under the cover of the night.
Illaoi's eyes snapped open at the sound of a closing door. It was so quiet she almost didn't hear it. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It was hard to tell what time it was; Soraka had her windows boarded shut to keep inquisitive minds eternally guessing.
The warning cry Illaoi expected from Valor never came. At some point in the night the logs had burned out and no one had replenished them. The only light came from the eerie green glow of Illaoi's relic and even that didn't cast enough light to dispel the darkest of shadows.
Illaoi thought she head the rustle of cloth as she tried to get her bearings and stand, but it could just have been her own fabric rubbing against one another. She rolled her neck then massaged the bridge of her nose. It was a bad habit of hers to frown during sleep, but it was not one she knew how to consciously change. There was a lot to think about over the past few days. Queen Ashe was dead, Quinn had been attacked in what was assumed to be the fortress of 'peace', and Soraka was sitting on a secret. Her reaction to the news of the queen's death was chilling and it caused Illaoi to question the nature of the relationship between the sovereign and her subject. Perhaps their friendship was as unstable as the power struggle between the three sisters.
The sound of glass breaking under heel was enough to alert Illaoi she was not alone. Without much thought she grabbed the handle of her relic and squinted into the dark room. Whoever was in here had enough sense to keep still, but that wouldn't be enough. Illaoi took a step toward where she thought the noise came. A blueish light sprang from midair and began to take the form of… a bow? Pale light from the weapon was enough to illuminate a curtain of white hair and a set of blue eyes.
Illaoi didn't care to find out who was behind those features. She swung and was about to make contact when her relic dropped like a sack of bricks and the glowing weapon returned to oblivion.
Soraka was standing in the doorway with her hair in a wild halo around her body. In her hands was a slender staff tipped with a crescent moon and runic markings similar to the tattoos on her body. It was the first Illaoi had seen of it and she wondered how this had escaped her cursory investigation of the house. The origin of the rod was not what made it spectacular, rather what it could do. Soraka was pointing the crescent end in their direction and from it a circle of stars was patterned on the floor. It swirled clockwise under the feet of Illaoi and the intruder, stripping them of their ability to harm one another and staying their progress.
Soraka was unfazed by this display. After all she had cast it many times before the Curtain of Silence was dropped. Long before magic was frowned upon. She was an old being. A starchild to be exact. She had seen the rise of many nations and watched them crumble while she obeyed the will of the cosmos. Then she had fallen for a man with the heart of a wolf… and she had seen what he could destroy with his clawed hands. When his true form engulfed him, she had renounced her position among the stars in order to fix what the wolf man ruined. On the off chance he changed his ways, Soraka prayed to be the light that guided him home. A home where the power of magic could heal his broken heart.
The circle of stars rooted Illaoi in place. Nagakabouros' relic had gone black and no lights shone between the stone teeth. The only source of light came from the rod and powerful magic curling along the floor.
"Let us go, Raka." The voice that spoke was feminine. Authoritative.
"Don't, she has a weapon." Illaoi tried to surge against the magic holding her in place. It grew tighter the more she struggled.
Soraka took no notice of the islander and continued as if she had not spoken.
"You are in my home. I do not recognize your authority."
"You are in my kingdom."
"I'm afraid it is Tryndamere's now. You're supposed to be dead and I do not take orders from the grave. Not even from you."
The unidentified figure fought the magic as best she could, but whatever magic Soraka had woven was effective.
"Look," A few more grunts and curses followed. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I had to leave early. Release me, dammit!"
"Don't take it to heart when I say I don't trust you. Your husband almost killed Quinn for a second time and now you're out for blood again? I'd like to believe you when you eventually promise you won't use 'it' on anyone, but I've seen you do terrible things, Ashe. Your words are just words. Where is the woman I knew?"
No one spoke. Illaoi used the brief pause to catch herself up to speed: Ashe was the queen of Frostheld— married presumably, she was also supposed to be dead, and she did terrible things. This was not turning out to be a flattering resume.
"I'm the same woman, I swear to Avarosa. I had to get out. Tryndamere was on his crusade again. I know he tried to choke Quinn and by the looks of it she was lucky to leave with her life. Others won't be so fortunate. He's looking for outsiders. Kind of like them."
Illaoi didn't need directions to figure out that comment was aimed at her and Sejuani. It was true, they were not welcome for various reasons: Sejuani was the 'monster' out to kill the queen, steal the throne, and let nature reclaim the land; Illaoi was a woman who didn't belong to the cold reaches of the north. Unfortunately that blanket term of 'them' extended further than originally thought.
"Outsiders like me." Soraka added coolly. The rod did not move an inch. It was as cold and unfeeling as its owner. "I didn't expect you for another day."
"Did you want me to stay and get caught?"
The other worldly light cut out along with the freezing effect.
"I'll be your real friend and tell you that you fucked up." Soraka said.
Ashe nodded like she understood, but the hard jut to her chin said otherwise. Instead she turned her attention to Sejuani who was oblivious to the whole scene. Side by side it was easy to see the resemblance of Avarosa and Serylda in their descendants: white hair, sharp facial features, and an untapped attractiveness wedged between a rock and a hard place.
"I don't want you two in my way. You'll have what answer you came for when I am through, Ashe. For now, get out. Both of you."
Illaoi sat crosslegged in front of the fire. That overgrown pigeon, Valor, nestled happily in the crook of Ashe's elbow. It was no surprise that traitorous fowl had not uttered a peep when the queen entered! Those two were as thick as thieves.
Good for them. Illaoi pulled the Eye of God closer to her body. Maybe Nagakabouros would call her right now and she could forget about underhanded monarchs, secretive healers, and cheeky birds. Then she could go back to her home in Bilgewater and… and… do anything besides staying here. She wondered how her ship had fared through the harsh weather.
Apparently Ashe had other things on her mind than Illaoi's boat. Her ice breaker came in the form of a direct question. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
"I am who I have always been: Illaoi. My god has designs for me which are outside of your conflict."
"A truly neutral answer. Clever. I guess when you're queen you don't get that luxury. Since no one knows how to keep their mouth shut around here, I assume you know about Lissandra and Sejuani and I." She didn't pause to check. "Generally if any help comes from the outside it's not welcome. But, I really needed Quinn to convince Demacia to stand with us— me— and unite the Freljord."
Illaoi bit her tongue. To ask questions would involve her in a war that she did not care to see completed. Besides, Ashe had started talking again.
"You're not from Freljord and you must think this fight is archaic, but it's our life. Lissandra betrayed her sisters and the result has been the fracturing of three tribes. I know with help from Demacia I can do what the generations before me could not. All I need is for Quinn to say a few words in the right company and this struggle will end.
"To start these events I had to make it look like I had died. Avarosa, my ancestor, gifted a bow to her lineage and I used an arrow of enchanted crystal to shoot the hull of Quinn's ship. I planned a false trip to a conference that would put me close to Quinn's ship, then in the night I sank it. I knew the arrow would melt or eventually sink since it's made of ice. All that matters is that Quinn made it out okay. However, being an outsider here in Freljord is not a good place to be as you can see. Tryndamere is convinced any non-native is evil and he plans on eradicating them now that I'm presumed dead.
"I have to take Sejuani out of here and get her to Demacia… that's if Quinn will help me. If the government will take her under asylum, I can fight Lissandra head on with their army. At least that's what should happen. I can't have Sejuani here. She'll ruin my plans before they even see the light of day."
During the story Illaoi had dug her fingers into the hollow eye sockets of her relic to relieve the edgy feeling in her bones. This story sounded more like a confession to a crime than a plan to unite a country. It was also growing harder to withhold her comments. With all these events that had taken place or were yet to happen, how could she not question it? How did Ashe know where Quinn would be? Why did the rest of the crew not survive? Was Sejuani struck down by her sister too?
"Is this not what you expected? I don't imagine you'd believe me if I say I'm after peace."
"Is this your guilty conscience speaking or the former queen?"
Ashe didn't answer for a while. Her chatty mood had ebbed with the waning fire. Another log was added and the conversation restrung.
"I didn't hurt Sejuani. Lissandra is an opportunist and she must have jumped as soon as I carried out my plan. She's had a long time to play cat and mouse with us. I know Tryndamere's next move will be to go to Winter's Claw. I'm sure they'll be ready for him."
In her mind's eye Illaoi could see the state the settlement had been left in. Snow had started to cover the existence of such a tribe; the land was eager to swallow its sins whole. There would be no one to greet Tryndamere.
"I am leaving Frostheld as soon as he departs. An envoy will be dispatched to tell Demacia I'm dead, but I'll be on that ship to convince them otherwise and to come back and restore peace. Quinn will be there to reinforce my cause. If you're smart you'll be on that ship with us, Illaoi."
"My ship is not riddled with arrows the last time I checked."
"If you think Tryndamere will let a ship from the outside leave without crucifying the owner, then you're deluded. However, there is much tie for you to debate your next course of action. The ship will leave once Quinn is awake and requests transport back."
The flow of the conversation stopped. What Ashe said was right. If this king was as crazed as he sounded, any ship not bearing Avarosa's mark may be met with the same fate as Quinn's. It was unsettling to think that Ashe almost killed her friend under the pretense of wanting peace.
Illaoi excused herself without giving an answer.
Rather than spend time with Ashe's questionable company, Illaoi divided her time between walking the streets of the city and the bedside of Sejuani. The room had more space now that Quinn was mobile and beyond the effect of the potion. In the two days that had past since that late-night chat, Ashe had left Illaoi alone to consider the option of leaving Freljord. Her new project was convincing Quinn not to turn her back on the north despite her husband's actions.
Meanwhile, Frostheld had taken on a darker tone. News of Ashe's death were being circulated around the city from more credible sources and Tryndamere was stepping aggressively into the role of justiciar. He called for a close group of men and women to accompany him on his journey to Winter's Claw to ferret out Sejuani.
This news had come from Nunu who insisted he be a part of anything involving the fugitives, particularly Illaoi. When he knocked on Soraka's door for the fourth time that day, the priestess had bodily lifted him and set out for a walk. The boy could hardly keep from babbling as they went through the side gate of the city.
"So what's gonna happen next? Are you staying?" He slipped out of her grasp and ran ahead. Bristle was a shaggy heap of fur half-buried in the snow. Nunu and Willump had taken to feeding him while Sejuani recovered and it appeared that Bristle appreciated the company. "I've got a room in the castle and everything— you could fit too. I share it with Willump, though, do you mind? He doesn't snore." The yeti lobbed a snowball at his friend. It purposefully fell short.
"Are you offering me, a stranger, a room?" Illaoi laughed for the first time in days. It was a nice sound in the empty expanse of the Freljord. "How generous. Another time, perhaps. Oh, fix your face." She threw a snowball and did not miss.
"Hey!"
"Your king is not fond of outsiders. Do you not share his sentiment?"
Nunu stopped packing snow into a lumpy ball and gave Illaoi a peculiar look. "I'm not exactly from here either." He didn't say more to elaborate on what he meant.
"Ah, okay. Well, I received another offer. Ashe is going to Demacia as soon as Tryndamere leaves and I'll be going home." As she said this, Illaoi realized that was her mind had been made up from the second the archer made the offer. If Nagakabouros was not showing her a clearer sign than this, then she needed a new profession. Sejuani would recover under the care of Soraka, Quinn would tell Demacia yea or nay on aiding the tribe of Avarosa, and Ashe would be the ghost writer of the new age of peace.
"Well, that sucks. Can I come? Tryndamere probably won't want us around, anyways. He leaves in a few hours."
"Ah, it pays to be in the loop. You'd be better off here, child. Ashe needs you to be her eyes and ears, I need to do the same for my god."
"Well, the least you could do is buy me a snack."
"My pleasure."
Illaoi made good on her promise and bought him a snack on the way back to the house. Many residents eyed her with fear and disdain, but it did not bother her as much as she thought it would. Once indoors she slipped out of her outer gear and found Ashe packing a light bag.
"You've returned. What did Nunu want?"
"He told me Tryndamere leaves in a few hours. By then it will be dark and we can go."
Ashe extended her arm and Illaoi grasped it just below the elbow in the formal act of sealing a deal. "I'm glad you've decided to come."
...
Sejuani had not woken up like Ashe had predicted. Soraka shared angry words and knowledge freely, saying that to move Sejuani would be to kill her. This was not what Ashe wanted to hear, but she didn't have time to argue.
"You're sure, Raka? Nothing can be done?"
"You're welcome to get a second opinion." Soraka said acidly. She was angry at Ashe for leaving the comatose warrior in her care. It was bad enough that the king hated outsiders and may eventually come for her head, but it would infinitely worse if Sejuani was found with her. "You better get going."
Tryndamere issued a statement prior to his crusade saying he was going to get even with Sejuani's barbaric tribe. This sparked patriotism in his citizens and it was the perfect opportunity for the party to make their getaway unnoticed.
Illaoi followed closely behind Quinn like she had on their first night in the city. Nunu had left Willump to tag along as they weaved through the people making their way to the imposing statue of Avarosa. He had proved invaluable in gathering information, so Quinn did not comment much on his presence.
At the gate Ashe hugged the boy.
"Come back soon, okay?" Nunu addressed all three with a brave face. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold… and perhaps a few tears. He hoped no one noticed.
Ashe squeezed him a last time then turned her face to the wind. They needed to make it to the port and board the ship. Quinn did not seem enthusiastic about any of the plan, even after Ashe's persistent entreaties. There did not seem to be any headway in convincing her to support the war, but at least the queen had a foothold in her mind.
The journey was easy going. A roughly paved road extended from the city and their tracks did not need to be covered in the churned snow. Illaoi felt the weight of the Eye of God lessen with each step she took. She never thought the grubby exterior of Bilgewater could seem so appealing.
They passed under arches and old structures, perhaps abandoned during the worst of the conflict, and approached the inlet. Few torches were lit in an effort to keep their exit hidden from anyone wishing to further tamper with their sponsor's ambassador. If Quinn was truly set on halting help from her country, they would be in a bad way, but should she return safely they may have a way to bargain. It was worth a shot.
The boat they were headed to had a few figures moving above deck, checking and rechecking riggings, planks, and anything else that may have been party to the mysterious sinking of the queen's vessel. The cover of darkness would be able to help Ashe scramble aboard undetected then stow away until they reached land.
"Hey, turn that off."
"S'cuse me?" Illaoi was surprised at the snappy order.
Quinn looked at her like she was dense. That's when Illaoi realized she could make out the features of the woman's face. The Eye of God was glowing brightly— the first it had in days.
"Turn it off. Right now."
"That's not how it works."
"It better."
Illaoi was about to answer with a smart reply when she felt a slight tug in her chest. It was not unfamiliar and it was a tug she knew well. Nagakabouros was calling.
"Oh Christ," Quinn exhaled. Illaoi was rooted in place and staring into the stone. "This isn't happening. Get on the boat." She tried to push Illaoi from behind, but it was a wasted effort. The people on the boat had noticed the two women and acknowledged them with a wave. Ashe had disappeared at some point and Quinn hoped she was working on a way to get aboard.
"You know, I was really going to eat your bird. I thought you should know."
"What're you saying? We have to go."
"I'm saying goodbye."
Quinn stopped elbowing and angling to look up at the priestess. Her eyes were clear and that self-assured grin was right where it belonged. Whoever this 'Nagakabouros' or 'Mother' was, she knew how to choose her followers well.
"I see. I'm sorry you're going to be part of this." Quinn extended her arm in the same way Ashe had. Illaoi gripped it tightly. "Until we meet again."
"Until then."
...
The greenish glow was visible long after the ropes were severed. Quinn and Valor stood at the rear of the ship and watched the light slowly make its way back to the city. Perhaps whatever god called Illaoi could also protect her from the prejudice of narrow minds, though that wouldn't be enough to slow a woman of her fortitude down.
Quinn stepped down to the main deck and watched the men and women move about with purpose. It was nice not to think for a few minutes. She lifted Valor onto an unused wooden stake, perhaps one for a coiled rope, and stared into the black water imagining what it would be like to fly away from all her troubles. To start again somewhere new. Just she and Val. Maybe go to a warm place for a change and try some barbecue. Didn't Illaoi know a lot about barbecue? Maybe Quinn would learn to cook something more than soggy rice. Illaoi could probably teach her a thing or two about cooking, right? The next time they met it wouldn't hurt to ask.
Quinn's mind fed her hazy images of this fantasy vacation. Roasting meat over an open flame, lounging on a beach, and— hang on, something Illaoi said earlier was in that vision too. What was that about meeting again? No, that wasn't it. A little before that… it had something to do with eating someone.
Valor locked eyes with his friend and suddenly the missing information clicked into place.
"What the hell? She was going to eat my fucking bird!"
a/n: So I goofed big time on Soraka and Warwick's lore and altered it a bit to go with the story, I hope you guys don't mind. The reason this chapter is late is because I'm packing up my room and shipping out to TN (Tennessee) later this week. Yikes! I'm not ready for college to start up again.