We are not born broken, but we are born blind.
Riven was blinded by devotion before, but now she was broken along with that devotion.
What a fool she was.
Broken bonds, broken heart. She should have known better than to try and win over an Ionian's heart.
And it wasn't just any Ionian. It was her. Of course it would be.
"What's this?" Irelia asked, skepticism painted across her face.
Gods, did Riven love that face.
"They're flowers," she said. "For you."
"I see that," came the reply through tightened lips, an unreadable expression and tone on her face. "What is the purpose of this display?"
"I wish to court you," she answered. "Is that not obvious?" she had asked back.
"It was."
"And?" Riven prodded.
"And what?" Irelia retorted.
"Do you accept?"
Irelia narrowed her eyes at the exile, no longer holding back her disgust. She scowled and said—
No, Riven blocked out the memory. She refused to live through that event once again. One more time, and she would go crazy. One more time, and her heart would shatter, as if it wasn't broken enough.
She was a broken woman, but she would not break further. She refused to.
What was broken can be reforged, and hopefully that would hold true to the heart.