Frostheld was not the same city Ashe and Quinn left behind. Without a queen, the stronghold had become a tomb for the living. Those who ventured into the streets were cloaked in ill-humor and dark attire, both befitting of a nation mourning a dead monarch.
Illaoi had re-entered the city on the night of Ashe and Quinn's departure, only to find hurting souls making the pilgrimage from their homes to the statue of Avarosa. Men, women, and children cast their hope and despair at her feet— she was supposed to be the one who watched over her brood from the far shores of Valhalla. Not all who approached the stone feet did so with kind thoughts for Avarosa. Many brought only questions to the silent protector, for their hearts couldn't find room to harbor optimism and distress. How did Avarosa let her direct descendent die? Was the former queen concerned with their well-being any longer? These questions remained unanswered by the sightless statue.
The streets of Frostheld remained thick with people, even after the passing of two days with no sign of Tryndamere. Today the sun did not seem to bother rising above the lowest ridges and the melancholy light played into the general mood. Snow had been blown over every available surface and provided a cold blanket for those who decided to rest at the foot of Avarosa. Many people had been deterred by the sudden windstorm the night before and they had turned back to the comfort of their beds rather than the silence of their guardian; those who stayed were either too angry or inconsolable to move.
Illaoi had been one of the people too angry to move. She did not stand under the shadow of the queen, no, she would not give the lifeless stone any indication that she believed in its power to shield her from anything. If this woman had been as large in life as she was in the hearts of her people, then she would have returned to them in a new form, but that was not the case. Avarosa was nothing more than an unexceptional woman and her legacy a tale for the unenlightened. Illaoi did not plan on leaving the city unenlightened for long.
She stepped over to a snow-covered lump and was about to roughly shake them when a hand fell on her arm. It was Braum.
"Northman, have you have come to pay homage to the rock too?" The contempt in her voice was lost as he easily lifted the Eye of God from the ground and placed it beside the foot of the statue.
"I have my rock, you have yours." He looked pensive rather than sad. Ice clung to his wooly beard and eye lashes, though he did not seem to mind. He had probably spent the night out here as well.
"That's fair." Illaoi scooped her relic up and glowered at him. "Do you believe your queen is in there?" She gestured to the woman.
"Do you believe god is in there?" He pointed to the glowing Eye of God. "I know otherwise. You cannot capture god in totem, I cannot capture queen in stone."
"Tell me what you know about my god and I'll show you where you're wrong."
Braum did not attempt to answer the challenge in Illaoi's words. He was not after a fight, he was too busy reading into signs he had seen in his youth. There was a phoenix born of ice, Anivia, who was said to be keeping watch over the creatures in this frozen landscape, a true champion of the Freljord, yet few had seen her in the last quarter century. During his time wandering from tribe to tribe, Braum had witnessed the great silhouette circling and had known he was safe under her shadow. Then, without a discernible shift, the name and visage of Anivia vanished from the heart and minds of those she protected. It appeared the bastion of peace had gone away for another era. She would be woken only when the new one was to be ushered in.
And now was the right time.
Braum shook the nearest mound of snow until it stirred to reveal a doe-eyed young man. Illaoi watched Braum dust him off and send him into the city with a precious message to spread:
Anivia was waking.
At midday Illaoi returned to the sanctuary of the apothecary's house. A bitter wind had picked up and forced Illaoi to evaluate her options: should she consider Nunu's roommate offer and run the risk of encountering Tryndamere upon his return, or return to the dour atmosphere of Soraka's home? The answer was simple and she found her way to the shop with little difficulty.
"Soraka!" Illaoi banged on the heavy oak door, but no one answered. It was not possible that the healer had disappeared in the day she had left and come back. Plus, the black clouds rolling in from the south looked particularly troubling. No one needed to be from the north to recognize a nasty storm when they saw one.
Illaoi pounded her fist one more time. What was taking her so long? She couldn't be holding a grudge over a few smashed pots, right? No one could be that petty. Well, maybe a few people. Illaoi waited a few seconds more before taking matters into her own hands. The force of the Eye of God crashing into the weak point of the door granted her access.
"I'll fix that." Illaoi called out, but there was no reply. Nothing seemed out of place indicating there were no visitors or that Soraka had too much time on her hands. The house felt warmer than the elements outside, but no fires burned. Perhaps they had burned out in the night and Soraka was still sleeping. The relic illuminated the gloomy interior as Illaoi strode to the rear of the house. She half expected the creatures of her childhood nightmares to try and touch her, but she was grown and did not dream of make-believe monsters.
Nagakabouros' spirit-pulling compass guided Illaoi to the last room in the house. The door was slightly ajar and orange light spilled out of the crack. With a booted toe, the priestess prodded the door open to reveal a most unusual scene.
Sejuani was awake, that was for certain. Very awake and very angry. She straddled Soraka's body which lay on the ground surrounded by broken ceramic. In one hand the princess gripped a shard and in the other a lock of white hair. Claw marks decorated her pale arms, definite signs of struggle, but the fight seemed to have left Soraka's body. The healer lay still with her eyes closed as if in sleep.
Illaoi tackled Sejuani and pinned her between herself and the wall. The woman thrashed and bit and howled in frustration, but Illaoi did not let go. Amid this furious display, a few words were choked out.
"She…killed…all…of them! Let…go!"
"Like hell I will."
"No, let her go." Soraka's hoarse voice was heard over the commotion. One of her hands came up to rest on Illaoi's back. "Do it."
"What're you saying? She's out of her mind."
"Just do it. I can't keep drugging her."
Illaoi moved out from under the healer's touch, but did not let go of Sejuani. "You've been drugging us?"
"Yes, but you only took one dose. If you think I could let her outside, then you must be the one out of your mind. She'd cause trouble worse than you can imagine."
Sejuani found a handle on her rage and spoke in a gravelly tone. "She's a liar and killer."
"Don't pretend you're above me, savage. I know what you've done and I'm not anything like you."
"There's no difference in war! I'll kill you!"
Illaoi knocked the ceramic weapon away before Sejuani could throw it. It wasn't done under altruistic pretenses— she'd enjoy crushing Soraka's bones when she found the chance— but this was not the time.
"Braum is talking about an Anivia. Who or what is that?" Illaoi grabbed Sejuani as she bucked and writhed in her arms. The name had sparked some kind of violent reaction in the warrior and she had redoubled her efforts to break free. In her limited catalogue of Freljord, Illaoi assumed whatever this was was not a sympathizer of Winter's Claw's crusade. It did not appear the tribe had many allies.
Soraka's reaction was less volatile. She looked sharply into Illaoi's eyes to see if there was truth in it. She repeated the name. "Anivia. She's awake?" Then to herself, she murmured the answer: "She's awake."
"I'll kill—"
"Shut up." Illaoi clapped her hand over Sejuani's mouth and received a painful bite. Still, she held on. "What does that mean?"
Soraka blinked as if seeing the two women for the first time. Her eyebrows knitted together and she quickly backed out of the room. The healer ignored the threats all the way from the room to the front door. It was when she was outside that she realized how wrong her actions had been. The sudden awareness of her sins were heighten by the audience of the heavens and the earth calling for her blood.
She did not look back.
...
Braum was in deep conversation with Frostheld's bookkeepers when Soraka appeared at his elbow. Her purple skin had goosebumps from her toes to her chin and he realized how poorly she was dressed.
"Welcome, healer. Pardon," He stepped away from the gray-haired men and women to talk with his friend. He was not old enough to remember her initial arrival to Frostheld, but he knew she was rather ancient, in the wise sense, and connected to Ashe somehow. Perhaps even to the other sisters, he was not sure and it was not his place to ask. Braum was just glad she was going to be present when the new era was ushered in by the long awaited cryophoenix.
After walking a fair distance from the crowd the slender woman stopped him.
"Braum, I know I can trust you. Ashe did and so do I; can I tell you a secret?"
"Of course. Any friend of Ashe is friend of mine."
"Thank you." She paused and he took her hands in both of his large ones. Encouraged, Soraka continued. "Braum, it's no secret that I'm old." Silence followed this omission. The large man looked thoroughly unsure of how to respond without offending her. He settled on a nervous chuckle. "I'm not being facetious, I'm very old. I've seen queens rise, men change and learn, and kingdoms blossom. I was immortal once and I am no longer. I tell you this because it's not anything new."
"I do not understand, healer. Speak plain."
"What I'm saying, Braum, is that there's going to be a change. Something bigger than us is going to happen soon."
"We come to same conclusion. Word spread fast." His hands unconsciously tightened around hers and she wondering how much pressure it would take to snap her bones. It was a pity she could not heal herself thanks to a cruel trick played by a higher power.
"Not quite. I've seen it before, believe me. With Ashe dead, a new balance is forming and you need to stop Tryndamere from ruining it." Soraka played into the general dislike of the king. Ashe had been counseled by friends, politicians, and foreign dignitaries not to marry a man as erratic as he, but her stubborn streak had reared its head and she followed through with the wedding. Their ill-advised union had cost the nation a functional relationship with the likes of Demacia and Ionia.
Before Braum could answer he was being hailed by a messenger clad in the royal uniform. The grim individual only spoke to the Freljordian man and to add insult to injury she used their native tongue. Little did she know that Soraka spoke it fluently.
"Olaf was seen wandering the edges of The Rise. Perhaps he is headed to the Ursine settlement; we lost him yesterday evening." The messenger shot a side glare at Soraka who listened with a blank expression. The Rise the messenger spoke of was a series of bluffs ringing the backside of Frostheld. They faced Sejuani's territory more than they did Ashe's, making it a good place for both reconnaissance and ranged attack. The passage Illaoi and Quinn had taken to get to Frostheld was located in the twisting tunnels under The Rise.
Braum's reply came after a moment of deliberation. His actions meant more now that the city looked to him for more than his stout heart, but for his military training. In the absence of rulers the bearded man had to take up a pseudo-command role.
He rubbed his chin and looked at Soraka.
"Tell none, Juale. Wandering is not a crime. Return when real news is here." Braum replied in common tongue, clearly not pleased with the direct exclusion of his friend.
Juale nodded and ran to the city gate where she slipped back into position.
"Can I help?" Braum's heart went out to the healer's downcast face. The overcast afternoon only perpetuated the miserable shadows on her forehead. In her eyes was a familiar hint of goodbye. Braum doubted he would see her for a long while, if ever again.
"I've taken too much of your time already, thank you."
"If I had right words to make you stay, I would tell it to you. I don't even have right poro snack." He rummaged around his pockets for added effect, but the healer's face did not reflect humor. "Come back to see Braum, okay? Now go with Avarosa's blessing."
"Thank you." Her reply lingered until the next current of wind swept it high above the city and into the black clouds.
"How could you let her go?! SHE LET PEOPLE DIE!"
Scarcely two minutes had gone by since Soraka's exit, when Sejuani exploded. The anger had simmered, then boiled, and finally bubbled over and the aftermath was ugly. Sejuani's emotions had superseded her common sense and she had flipped the table, scattering whatever paper's and books Soraka had kept there, and ended her rampage by tipping the iron furnace over with her bare hands. Burning coals skittered around the room then quickly died out, plunging the room into a smokey darkness where the only light was from the judgmental Eye of God.
Illaoi was unimpressed and showed it by ignoring the scene. Burning flesh wafted through the air, which was to be expected when one touched a hot surface. However, if Sejuani was hurting, she did not show it. She looked around the room for more things to destroy, but there was little in the way of breakable items. She turned on Illaoi instead, thinking her to be a weak target.
"YOU did this! You let us die!"
Illaoi looked the wasted princess up and down, wondering how hard she could hit her before something broke. Maybe one hit wouldn't hurt...
"Even if that were true, what could you do about it?"
"Get my revenge on you, that bitch," here Illaoi inferred that she meant Soraka, "and then my sisters."
"Those are tall orders for someone who has been cut down to size."
Sejuani gripped a table leg and broke it off with a savage yank. "Try and stop me."
"Why would I want to? I'm not petty enough to call myself your ally or enemy, I'm here to set you on your path. If you're lucky I won't break your spine."
"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!"
Illaoi easily caught the wooden table leg as Sejuani swung it. It was snapped in two and thrown behind her.
"You haven't learned your lesson, child." Sejuani received an open handed slap which sent her tumbling. "I thought Nagakabouros called only the strong, but I suppose gods are allowed to make mistakes every once and a while. But you're no god and you've made too many errors."
Illaoi picked the prone woman up by the shoulders and shook her violently. "Revenge is a wasted endeavor. You'll never make it as far if your plan ends where your sword begins. What is it you want?"
"Let me go!"
"Say it!"
"Let me GO!"
"Not until you tell me; now, say it!"
"I will avenge my people!"
"NO."
"I will! Then I will take the Freljord as mine! Now let me go!"
Sejuani fell unceremoniously to the ground. Apparently her answer was satisfactory for now and the dark skinned woman was placated. She picked up her wounded pride and sat in the furthest corner of the room, a white will-o-the-wisp against the far wall. In the darkness of the room her tears were almost unnoticeable. Almost.
...
The front door creaked open to let Soraka in. It was late afternoon, though it could have easily been mistaken for evening. Few people were outside and those that were had the job of making sure everyone knew Anivia was arriving. The news was a boon to the grieving city and the residents crowded into the foyer of the castle.
It was no trouble for Soraka to slip away and make it home without being confronted. Everyone had been busy flocking to Braum and the bookkeepers for signs and affirmation. Fortunately for Soraka, she had heard enough and was ready to come clean.
"Oof!" The healer walked straight into the hard wall of Illaoi's chest. They were standing in the room closest to the front door and a fire roared merrily in the background. "I— is there— where is she?" She spluttered, looking to see if Sejuani was nearby.
"Not imprisoned, if that's what you're really asking. I've had some time to think about your drugging method—" Illaoi was interrupted by Soraka's sharp instructions.
"You can kill me later if that's what will make you happy. Right now we have to leave."
"Oh? Says who?"
"Me," A silent, 'you clown', was hidden in Soraka's sarcasm. "Anivia is coming and it's near impossible to hide something from her, believe me."
"I'm finding it harder and harder to do that. Give me a reason to listen to you."
"That's fair, I'd like to see you take on a bird that can't die. You may think your big and bad, but she's bigger and badder." Soraka saw the hard edge in Illaoi's eyes and knew she was getting nowhere. "Anivia is the true guardian of the Freljord. She sleeps until the right time come for her to fight and start the new era. The last time she was seen was when the princess before Ashe was murdered. Aria was her name, you can look it up if you want to waste your time.
Anyways, there's an Ursine village a day's march from here and that's where we need to go. If we leave right now Anivia won't be able to follow without abandoning her obligations to…" Soraka's voice petered out towards the end, unwilling to disclose their location should Sejuani be listening.
Illaoi's face did not change throughout the whole exchange. Did Soraka find her so gullible?
"If this bird is so 'strong' and 'all powerful' why hasn't she ended this war herself? I don't believe a word you say."
"Because she's a coward." Soraka jumped at Sejuani's voice. The princess had been hanging in the recess of the dark hallway. She now stepped into the ring of light where the burned skin on her fingers and palms shone. Soraka turned a blind eye to the injuries sustained from the furnace and focused on the short distance separating them. Surely Illaoi would intervene should the crazed woman decide to strike again, right?
"You know she works for no one. Your ambitions got in the way of her helping you, just like your mother and her mother before her. All of you are the same."
Sejuani's eyes were thin slits that bored holes into Soraka's head.
Illaoi was sick of being on the outside of most conversations. It was like being fed a tome one letter at a time.
"How does this explain why your bird is awake?"
"Of course you don't know," The purple woman said more to herself than anyone else. "She drifts closer to whatever sister is more interested in establishing a balance in Freljord, but that's as far as her involvement goes."
"Why is she awake?"
"I'm not her keeper, Illaoi, I don't know everything. What I do know is that one of Winter's Claw's allies are headed to the Ursine village and we should be on our way too. Whatever is waking up a guardian should be our concern too."
That was hardly the solid answer Illaoi had been looking for. It was one thing to follow her god into this wasteland, but it was another to trust a shady apothecary. The relic glowed in sympathy to her moral plight, but there was no comfort to be found in it. "So what is it we do?"
Sejuani cleared her throat to answer this, her cold eyes calculating every move necessary to make revenge first on her list. In a low, steady voice she said: "Take me to my boar."
a/n: So this chapter took way too long to write and it wasn't what I wanted it to be, but I couldn't sit on it for another week. Between classes (actual hell) and writer's block, I didn't get much done. RIP in piece.