A/N: Hello again, everyone! I will be posting some Extras related to this story on my Tumblr account, URL Megapieceoftrash, under the tags "#a way to be good again" and "#fanfic extras". You are welcome to head over there and check it out!

While other fanfic writers take on more mature, realistic descriptions for League matches, I will describe them as games, because that is what they are. Blood spilled does not stain; wounds do not appear, because in the actual game they don't, because it is a game even here that holds little gravity with life, pain and death.

Also, whoever can guess the match I used here will be given a clue to cracking the extra on Tumblr! (It's more solid than a virtual cookie, I guess?)

Haruka

Lux's POV

Ignoring the weird looks being directed our way, I drag Riven to the 24/7, all-you-can-eat buffet table and hand a plate, which she does not even take. Instead, she stands like a statue, as if she were already dead and her body is but unfeeling stone carved in her likeness to honor her achievements.

The look in her eyes is painfully hollow, blank, filled with despair, and I long desperately to banish the shadows that cling to this girl's frame. I wonder, what made her suddenly break like that? Before, she was perfectly fine, forging onward for the sake of returning Noxus to its glory days (ugh). What made her crash and burn so badly, so pitifully? Nothing has happened to Noxus lately, at least, not to the other city states' knowledge…

Shoveling random stuff on the plate for her, I guide her to a table in a nice secluded corner where she can stare at nothingness in peace, and hopefully get some food into her. She's like a skeleton covered in a thin layer of sallow skin, her hair almost brittle to the touch, symptoms I have seen in the starving Ionian masses before aid and intervention arrived. Is this how she intends to atone for the atrocities she committed in that war, suffering the way their survivors had?

"Riven, are you looking forward to the tournament today?" I ask cheerfully, attempting to draw the white haired girl from her shell, "I doubt that I'll be seeing any action, though, especially with the recent changes to AP items."

She shrugs in response, staring at something in the distance that only she can see. Ghosts from her past, I assume, ghosts that I would someday like to be familiar with.

"Well, do you think you'll be seeing midlane again soon?" I ask conversationally, hoping to get a proper response or an opinion out of her. A couple of Summoners like pitting Riven against Yasuo, but the man is an Ionian, which definitely will not go unnoticed by her. Also, rumors have gone around that she is most likely the one who caused this man's exile, the one who forced him to raise a hand against his own brother and suffer, unable to forgive himself…

She has committed so many sins, she has so much to mourn, it is no wonder she walks with her head lowered.

Riven shrugs again, lost in a world far from my knowledge, a world most likely created from the nightmares that plague her from the Ionian War. It was a particularly gruesome war, that one, more like a genocide than anything else. Entire villages were wiped out, people burned and slashed and bombed without mercy, condemned by the Noxian invaders as "weak" due to their peaceful natures, and the land was watered with their blood and tears. Thousands, millions of lives were lost in that conflict, many of them innocent and helpless. The Ionians would never forget, could never forget, the events that destroyed so many of their lives.

Merely hearing stories from that time makes me shudder, I wonder what it is like to be haunted by months, maybe even years' worth of memories from it…

Before I can shake off my thoughts and attempt to engage Riven once more, my ally and fellow countryman, Fiora Laurent, walks over with a strange look on her face, asking Riven if she could borrow me for a moment. Her tone is much colder and harsher than usual, but said white haired girl doesn't react in any way, staring out into space as Fiora draws me out of earshot. It is an unnecessary move, I doubt Riven would be able to hear you even if you shouted in her ear, she'd just shrug and remain shrouded in her personal hell.

"Luxanna, what are you doing?" Fiora hisses angrily, "The Exile is an enemy; you cannot forget the blood on her hands!" The way she spat out Riven's title, with that condemning and judgmental tone, makes my blood boil.

"We all have blood on our hands," I respond, the coldness in my voice quite unlike me, and Fiora is taken aback. She sputters, trying to come up with a reply, and I cut her off. "I don't care what you think of her, Fiora. I like her, and that's the end of it."

Shaking her head slightly, she grumbles to herself about the sudden influx in relationships that ignore boundaries, be they gender, species or city-state related, or sometimes a mixture of the three.

"Wha- Riven and I are not in that kind of relationship!" my cheeks flush red as I protest, trying to keep my voice from carrying to the other tables.

Smirking a little, Fiora replies, "Your burning cheeks aren't helping your case, Luxanna." She mumbles something else under her breath, and I realize that the mighty leader of the Laurent house might be feeling a little… left out due to the increasing number of inter-champion romantic relationships.

"You could always get a partner too, you know," I tease in return, watching as her cheeks flush the same color as the vibrant streak in her hair. Sputtering, she tells me that she has no need for a partner, man or woman or spirit or whatever, and is not the slightest bit envious of the budding romances around her.

Before I can poke at her wound a little more, a bunch of non-champion yordles burst through the dining hall, making a beeline for where Tristana, Teemo and Rumble are seated, carrying the Bandle City flag on their little shoulders and squealing in high-pitched voices. Though they seem displeased with something, I am sure no one here can take them very seriously; they're just too small and cute! Maybe they were forced to ride in the animal carriage on their journey here and want something done to the carriage driver or the company he drives for.

Fiora takes this chance to escape from my prodding, disappearing into the crowd, and I return my attention to the shell-shocked veteran who still hasn't touched a thing on her colorful plate. She does not seem to have noticed a single thing that has occurred around her, an oddity for an experienced soldier, and a cold lump of worry settles in the base of my stomach.

"Riven, you really should eat something," I coax, and when I get no response, decide to threaten, leaning close enough to brush my lips against her ear, "If you don't start eating, I'm going to spoon-feed you."

Coming to life a little, she picks up the fork and stabs half-heartedly at her food, pushing it around and occasionally bringing some of it to her mouth. Her eyes are still incredibly far away, her entire being seeming to have collapsed into itself, withdrawing impossibly deep into the recesses of her wounded soul. How can it be that I am within touching distance of Riven, yet it feels as if she is not even on Runeterra?

"My hands are stained." "Burdens of the past." "So much death." "What conflict awaits?" "To serve the greater good." From the words that she says, it is obvious that Riven's emotional state is not very stable. It seems that she thinks the world is but a bunch of wars waiting to happen, and has resigned herself to the fact that she will always be a weapon in the seething mass of bloodshed.

"For those who were lost." I have always wanted to ask her about this; if the lost she speaks of are Noxian or Ionian, or a combination of the two. Maybe they are all who have lost their lives in battle, from beyond the Rune Wars to this very day.

"A sword mirrors its owner." The darkest and saddest of all her favorite quotes, considering the sword in her hand is broken. Will I ever be able to fix her, to brighten her view of this world? How long will it take me to achieve that if it took so many years to shatter her, if it took something so gruesome to make her crumble?

A sudden clang pulls me back to reality, my eyes adjusting to the sight of a now violently trembling Riven, tears dripping from her darkened amber eyes. An endless stream of senseless apologies slips from her throat as she collapses on her knees, the little food she ate flooding out from her.

"Riven! Riven, what's wrong?" I rush to her side, immensely concerned, resting one hand on her trembling back. She shrinks away from me, curling up defensively as she rocks back and forth, eyes even more hollow than before as the apologies end and the stream of "No"s begin.

"Riven, hey," I shake her gently, "Look at me! Riven! It's okay, you're safe here, the War is over. Everything will be alright now."

At last, Riven looks at me, at me and not through me, her defeated amber eyes burning into my soul as she croaks hoarsely, "The War is not over… It is still going on…" Raising a thin, shaky hand to her chest, she taps the place where her heart is twice, continuing, "in here… now and forever…"

Her head drops, her body slackening in my grip, and she mumbles one last sentence before passing out completely.

"Noxus will burn…"

Ionian Wing

Hooked up to various strange-looking devices, Riven looks more fragile than ever, nutrients flowing into her body through a clear tube, a yellowish sheen to her normally tan skin. Realizing that reminders of Ionia will not help her fragile mental state in any way, Soraka, Akali and I spent the last hour clearing every trace of said city state from the room, pulling off flags, changing furniture styles and even painting over the Ionian crest on the wall. It was hard work, but worth it if it means Riven's hospital stay will be more comfortable. Fortunately, the white haired girl remained unconscious throughout our work, safe in the arms of what I hope will be good dreams.

The main bulk of Ionians are a forgiving people; it is not in their way of life to hold on to hate. However, there is tension between them and Noxians, tension that I cannot sense from neither Soraka nor Akali as they work efficiently around the sleeping soldier. It is no surprise, I guess, considering that Soraka is a divine being who devotes herself to healing and saving, while Akali is a well-crafted, emotionally-empty puppet who serves as the hand of punishment in her Order. They hold no grudges, and even if they did, can easily shove those feelings out of the way.

Suddenly, Riven begins to fidget in the bed, features twisted into a pained frown. Perspiration beads down her pale forehead as her body begins to flail wildly, yelps and whimpers slipping from between clenched teeth as she struggles to escape from something that clearly terrifies her.

I wonder, is it Noxus she sees in her dreams, Noxus burning? Does she fear the retribution Noxus undoubtedly deserves?

She begins to thrash from side to side, the surprising force of her movements causing the bed to shake. She whines softly, her fists clenched so tightly they have turned white, tears streaming down her sallow cheeks.

"No… No…" she whimpers as she continues to struggle, attempting to escape a nightmare that the tendrils of drugs keep her firmly bound to. The tubes stretch and tangle, machines screaming in protest, and Soraka rushes over to reconnect them.

Helpless, I can only watch as she sobs, desperately begging the ghosts in her dreams to let her go, to stop, to stop, to stop… Unfortunately, there is no way to wake her up prematurely; she will have to sleep until Soraka's medicines have left her system.

When the Summoners told me she had problems, I didn't imagine that they would be so bad… After all, I have grown up firmly believing that Noxians have no heart, that they do not deserve respect, that they are nothing but monsters calling for bloodshed and violence, but this one, this ex-Noxian, has more heart than the whole of Demacia put together. Her city-state condemns her from "abandoning" it in its time of need, her city-state has disappointed her by sinking into the darkness, yet she still loves it, she has never stopped loving it.

Oh Riven, Noxus can never hope to deserve you…

Akali taps gently on my shoulder, her dark eyes neutral as she says, "You have been summoned for a tournament. I have informed them that you are busy, but they refuse to accept it."

Looking back at the sleeping Riven, I respond, "I'd rather not leave her side right now."

Faint amusement and warmth shines in the ninja's eyes as she nods, "I will try to convince them to leave you alone." With that, she disappears into what seems like thin air, shrouded in twilight.

Hopefully, someone else will take my place in whatever position they wish me for in that game, I do not want to leave this room until Riven is awake. I do not want her to wake up alone in a strange room in the middle of the Ionian Wing, filled with people she has done wrong to; it will not help her already fragile mental state.

"Luxanna, I am very sorry, but the Summoner insists it has to be you," Akali pops back after a while, "I'll stay here with her if you'd like."

Aware that this is most likely the best I can get (some Summoners are insanely stubborn), I nod and rise with a sigh, asking Akali to ensure Riven doesn't leave the room until I return. Akali might not be too happy to be aiding a Noxian, however denounced she may be by her city-state, but she will carry out duties assigned to her with the iron-willed determination of the Kinkou ninja. It is the way her type of Ionian works - detached, unemotional, always working toward the greater good.

Who decides that greater good, I wonder, and where does Riven stand in that view, what color is she dyed?

Shaking the thought from my head, I exit the hospital, an intense blue light immediately enveloping me and cloaking me in the appropriate "skin" chosen by my Summoner – Steel Legion, one of my personal favorites. Summoning magic cannot be activated on anyone within the hospital, in case some fool tries to summon a wounded or ill champion right out of his or her or its hospital bed. It is the same for bathrooms; we are sometimes treated as decent human beings.

When the sense of disorientation fades, I find myself standing on the blue platform on Summoner's Rift, Fiora, Elise, Lucian and Shen by my side. I am not very sure how my skill set fits into this composition – am I to be the waveclear for a standard 1-3-1 or 4-1 splitpush, a common strategy when Fiora is involved in any high-level games, or am I to rush a Sheen-based item and be the other lone splitpusher?

Shrugging, I move to lane alongside Shen and Lucian, carefully looking out for any signs of an invade from the enemy team. Strategies are not something for the champions to worry about, since it is the Summoners who control our movements; all we need to do is obey and perform our best.

The game is pretty standard, the outer turrets in both lanes disappearing within five or ten minutes. I trade surprisingly easily with my enemy – LeBlanc – which is honestly not something I expect, and I manage not to die to her at all during the laning phase. My Summoner seems relatively skillful, keeping the lane pushed and forcing LeBlanc to stay in lane instead of roaming.

After my first successful skill combo, I realize myself why I am coming back – with the new keystone mastery, Thunderlord's Decree, my combo with my auto and passive deal a larger chunk of damage than before. But honestly, it is impossible to make any plays with the new gameplay style, and for a long time, both teams spend time alternating between farming and pushing.

Despite the slow game, my team slowly but surely claws its way to an advantage, that quickly leads to a snowball of turret after turret, as well as a few kills beautifully secured by amazing taunt-Flashes from Shen's Summoner. Despite how unwilling I was to enter the match, adrenalin and happiness is humming through my veins – close games are the best, the harder they are, the more fun they seem.

"I think we might be going for five dragons," Fiora murmurs as we continue our slow dance in-and-out of the jungle.

Unfortunately, a disastrous move from Fiora's Summoner to dive an Inhibitor tower nearly costs us the game – if not for Lucian's Summoner's superior dueling ability and a well-timed Final Spark call from my Summoner. (After a number of games, you do end up dissociating yourself from the things you do on the Fields, since you are fully aware exactly how puppet-like you are).

A teamfight around the dragon pit leads to an Ace and the fifth stack of the dragon buff, granting us the game as well as my first professional victory in a long time – probably two years or so? It's a pretty good feeling, to be able to emerge victorious on a big stage, and I cannot help but envelop the Summoner in a hug for a few moments before the desummoning spell is cast.

Racing down the halls with a skip in my step from the hard-fought victory, I approach the Ionian Wing in record time, my good mood plummeting when I hear crashing and yelping from the general direction of Riven's room. Concerned voices are addressing her by her name, begging her to calm down, telling her that she is safe, but she does not seem to register them.

"You do not have to fear, Riven, we do not mean to hurt you. Please, calm down, you are safe here," Soraka pleads as I crack open the door, careful not to hit anyone.

"Lux!" a relieved smile passes over Soraka's face when I enter the room, "Thank the stars you have returned."

Riven is curled up in the furthest corner of the room from Soraka and Akali; no, right now she is too bony to curl, her body made up of sharp angles and unhealthy shadows. Yellow bile splatters the porcelain tiles around her, and she trembles violently as they instruct me on how to reattach her drip, fully aware that the further they are from her, the better she might feel.

"We'll be just outside, if you need us," Soraka says kindly before the door swings shut behind them. Akali does not look particularly pleased to be included yet again, nurse skin or not, she is still a Kinkou assassin first and foremost, and I won't be too surprised if Riven's head was on her list once, not too long ago.

"Hey, Riven," I try for a conversational tone, as if I am not talking to a mentally unstable veteran who has just emptied stomach acid onto the floor of her hospital room, "Would you like to go back to bed?"

"Noxus," she croaks softly, raising her head to pin me with a devastating, hollow stare, "What has happened to Noxus?"

"Noxus is fine," I say consolingly as I support her back to the bed, easily finding the tube for her drip and reconnecting it to the opening in her left hand. All the while, I speak to her of Noxus' victories, though it roils my stomach to do so, "So as you can see, Noxus is doing very well, from city-state matters to Institute-related matters."

She relaxes, like a soothed child, "Really?"

I smile, running gentle fingers through her dry, brittle hair, "Yeah."

As she drops back to sleep, I resolve to find a way to drag a Noxian champion here to give Riven more information about her accursed city-state's progress; hopefully it will do her a lot of good. I should go to Ashe, everyone knows she is Katarina's weak spot; rumor has it that Katarina is basically Ashe's lovesick puppy and will do anything she asks. However, bringing that rumor up in Katarina's face when Ashe isn't around results in a knife, possibly four, to the stomach – Noxians are in the detention chambers so much some people have taken to calling it the Second Noxian Wing – and I am not particularly interested in becoming the Du Couteau assassin's targetboard.

How cute, the Sinister Blade has, had, a heart to give, I never thought that possible. Maybe we Demacians were too quick to judge the Noxians; they seem capable of human feeling under the right circumstances, their cold, cruel exteriors stripped away to reveal childlike hearts.

No POV, Somewhere in the Ironspike Mountains

In the darkness of the cave, a pair of masked men sit, an eerie green light bouncing off the stone walls and glowing in their dark eyes. The air within is stifling, weighted, a mixture of dread and anticipation causing the light to dance, as if it were a living flame.

"Are you absolutely sure of this?"

"Of course, brother! No one would even imagine that we would take such a path."

"And do you have the loyalty of them all?"

"So you worry about the Exile."

"It is natural to."

"Fear not, she is too broken to interfere with our plans. A child who feels guilt in war can never hope to stop us."

"Very well. I pray my trust in you will never prove to be misplaced."

"I will not fail, brother. And my failure is not for you to punish."

"Arrogance, brother, is your bane."

With that, the light withdrew, as if it had been sucked back by a greedy child's mouth, plunging the rocks into darkness once more. Nothing moves, nothing breathes, the cold wind shrieks by and no life stirs.

Over the jagged peaks an eagle soars, amber eyes burning. It screeches, sharp, jarring, swooping down upon its helpless prey – a snow-colored rabbit, wild-eyed and twitching as cruel talons sink into soft flesh. All it can do now is die.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review behind if you have any thoughts or feedback at all! They really motivate me to continue the story!

For now, the Tumblr extras will just be little coded clues that might help you figure out bits and pieces the plot for future chapters. In time, there will be short story chunks, so do look out for those!

Haruka