The King

"I'll be able to go with you next time, right?" Achlys asked.

"That is the intention," Karthus replied.

With hopeful eyes, Achlys looked up to Karthus even as she pulled her blanket tightly around her shivering body. Clutched in her hands were the papers he had written for her. They were written so that she would understand the monumental task she would be expected to aid with as a faithful denizen of the Shadow Isles. Karthus's plan had worked and Achlys readily accepted her role. Now, he had to deal with the consequences of his success. He had to go arrange for an audience between Achlys and her king.

"Gaspare," he commanded, "I leave her in your care. Keep her awake and safe. If she becomes ill again, even if only for a second, you are to fly to me with all your haste."

"I will remain vigilant," Gaspare promised.

"And Acheron will help too," Achlys chimed in.

"I know they will keep you safe," Karthus said, "I must go now. I will return as soon as possible."

"Okay," Achlys nodded, "I love you."

"I love you too."

Alone Karthus traveled to the ruins of Helia. It was not a long journey and one he had taken many times before, but today every hour felt like a day. His soul was restless and that restlessness grew as he saw the spires of the fantastic city loom in the distance. He began to mutter an old prayer as he glided through the woods, something from life he had recited in times of doubt.

"I clad myself in courage, sole armor the Wolf's fangs cannot breach."

Out of the forest and into the ruins he moved. Curious wraiths peered out from crumbling buildings, drawn in by his melodious voice but always keeping a respectful distance.

"And as I walk among my fellows, his watchful eyes will always seek,"

He followed the path through the city, up past the Chronicler's library, past once great halls of leaning, past ancients houses dedicated to the arts, up towards the sacred the spring, the Isles' heart.

"Hungry for my beating life, hoping for fear and err,"

As he continued towards the citadel of the spring, fewer and fewer wraith lurked about.

"But only for the Lamb, will I lay my heart bare."

"I believe I know that prayer," a voice spoke out, "it's a prayer for courage, is it not, something for when the fear of death grips the mind?"

Karthus turned to Thresh as he continued to speak.

"Oh they all claim that they want to die bravely and let the Lamb take them, but once the skin flays back, once the screaming starts, the Wolf is not far behind."

"A warrior may die screaming, but that does not mean that the Wolf caught him," Karthus said, "if he had made peace with death within his heart, the Lamb's arrows will find him in even the bloodiest melee."

"Spoken like a true priest. Is that what you told the soldiers on their way tor war?"

"No. Noxians revere the Wolf. They desire to die fighting."

"Truly? I had not noticed since I have found that so many Noxians flee as quickly as those of other nations."

"If you are attempting to provoke me by mocking those of my homeland, you waste your time."

"No, that is not why I approached you."

"Then why have you?"

"Curiosity. What is the Deathsinger doing here all alone? No daughter, no choir."

"My business is my own."

"Secrecy, you only fuel my curiosity."

"If you must know, I have come to speak with Viego."

"Has he summoned you?"

"I was not summoned; I have come of my own volition. I seek to arrange an audience with him for Achlys."

"For Achlys, why?"

Thresh's usual calm demeanor vanished, replaced with genuine shock for an instant.

"Have you forgotten our bargain?" he asked.

"I have not forgotten our bargain," Karthus replied as he continued his way up the hill, "but something has changed. The Mist inside her has grown wild. She can no longer control it and it causes her pain. I believe that since the Mist is born of Viego, he will be able to tame it once more."

"Do you no longer fear what he may do to her?"

"I do but, I fear her being in pain more. I cannot stand to see her suffer. So, to our king I will go unless you can tell me right now that you know how to remove his mark upon her soul."

Thresh scowled. He had torn apart countless wraiths seeking the mark on them to try and learn how to separate his soul, and Achlys's, from Viego's grip. He had had no such luck. It seemed as though the mark being visible on Achlys was something singularly unique to a living soul and Karthus had forbade him from removing her soul more than twice a year. So despite his many years working with the girl, he had made little progress on understanding how the Mist was entwined with her. He could not answer Karthus.

"Your silence is my answer." Karthus said, "but do not worry, I shall continue to keep your treacherous thoughts a secret. Unlike you, I derive no pleasure from watching others suffer. Now, unless you have something useful to say in regards to saving Achlys, I advise that you save your time and leave. Nothing you can say will sway me from this path."

"Then I have nothing to say other than that I hope that this is what is best for her."

"I am her father. If I did not believe that this is what was best for her, I would not be doing this."

Unharried, Karthus finished his ascent to the temple built around the sacred spring. The magic that forever changed the land saturated the air here. Pieces of the building that had been blasted off in the rush of magic hung in the air as though they were as weightless as feathers on the wind. Cracks in the earth exuded a green light, excessive magic forever embedded in them. Mist steadily circled the temple, surrounding the place it was created in like a gossamer shroud.

The sight always humbled Karthus. Being so close to the magic that animated him filled his soul with a sensation that was difficult to describe. It was something between excitement, elation, and terrible awe. This feeling only heightened as he entered the sanctum of the spring; the place where the world's greatest blessing was bestowed onto it.

Here, all was quiet. There was no wind. The air, like the rubble, was seemingly held suspended. No lesser wraiths lingered here, the Mist did not twist and roil, but drifted gently like a steady river, and the waters themselves were still and beautifully dark like a sheet of indigo glass. And before it all, a grand sword, steel and silver and gold unblemished by time, was plunged into the ground. Karthus lowered his head in obeisance. It was the weapon that his king's soul was inexorably connected to.

Despite his reverence, there were times that the weapon, or more accurately, how the weapon was connected to Viego, perplexed him. He found it odd that such an immensely powerful wraith could even be bound to an object, but he also believed that it was this connection that had spared his soul from being sundered during the grand magical provenience as the queen's had been. Even still, there were times that Viego's soul did not seem complete. His awareness came and went. Some days he seemed oblivious of his surrounding or forgetful of those loyal to him, and other days he remained completely dormant in the sword. But then there were the days he was completely aware.

On those days he could manifest with physicality greater than any other wraith was capable of. His power then was absolute and he could command thousands of wraiths to fly into a Harrowing, and instill compulsions too powerful to resist. Everything on the Isles bowed to his command and as more pieces of the queen were returned to him, he was able to regain his mind more frequently and for longer bouts of time. It was as if he was also being reassembled.

Karthus reached out and let his fingers dip into the Mist that gathered around the sword. He could not sense Viego's soul within the blade. It was close though, elsewhere in the temple. Deeper into the temple Karthus wandered, following the Mist to its source until he stood before a doorway. There he paused, thought once more of his daughter and what needed to be done to protect her, and entered.

Viego was there. He was standing with his back to Karthus. On a raised platform, two thrones carved from dark marble, cracked with age and adorned with the geometric designs favored on the Isles, were the focus of his attention. But even with his gaze turned upon them and Karthus making not a sound as he glided, the moment the lich crossed into the room, Viego spoke.

"Karthus."

"My king."

"Why have you come?"

"I seek an audience, my liege."

Viego did not turn towards Karthus, but took several steps towards the thrones and placed a hand upon the armrest of one.

"It is so empty."

"It will not be forever."

"And every day until then will be a nightmare."

With great reluctance, he pulled his hand back and sat in the opposite throne. His eyes however, lingered on the empty seat beside him before he turned his gaze towards his supplicant.

"You may approach, Karthus, and speak."

Karthus moved before the thrones and bowed in obeisance.

"My king," he began, "I have come before you to make a request."

Viego gave the slightest inclination of his head as a nod for Karthus to continue speaking, though his attention began to drift and his eyes returned to the other throne.

"I had said that I am seeking an audience," Karthus continued, "but it is not for myself that I ask. And now before I continue, I must beg your pardon."

"Pardon?" Viego responded, his full attention once more on Karthus, "Why would you need to seek my pardon? What have you done? Speak!"

With each sentence he spoke, Viego's words grew louder and faster. Karthus however, continued to speak in a steady tone.

"My actions were not taken out of malice, but I must confess that I have not been forthcoming about all that has transpired on the Isles."

"If you have withheld any information about her from me, you will regret it with all of your soul."

"Sire, I would never hold information about your beloved from you. What I had found though, and failed to report to you may aid in finding her."

"Explain yourself, quickly."

"Ten years ago, a lifeboat washed ashore. Inside was a baby girl, still alive despite other wraiths having found the boat before I did. I knew at once she was special, that she belonged here. I decided to take her in and raise her as my daughter."

Karthus looked to Viego to see if he had anything to comment, but he was silent. Just piercing green eyes, as bright as Achlys's, staring down unblinking and expectant.

"For years I raised her," he continued, "teaching her of the wonders of this place and the blessing you bestow through the Mist. And when she began to show signs of magical abilities, I nurtured her skills. This is where I believe she can aid you."

"How?"

"Her magic is different from the others kinds I have seen. She has the abilities to calm wraiths, see into their memories, and bring those memories back to them. Through this, she is able to reshape them into who they once were."

"Are you suggesting that I require the aid of a child to remember my love as she was? Do you believe she would know her better than I do?"

"My king, I would never suggest such a thing. I bring it up though because I know the wonderful results it can have on others. Consider those in your kingdom for who this will be invaluable, lesser wraiths, those who are shadows of their former selves. Once more, they could be restored, and when she helps them regain themselves, their minds return to them as do the skills they possessed, skills that they can offer you. Artists could fill your kingdom with art and song, scholars will record knowledge and preserve it here, and warriors would be more capable and be able to dispatch your foes with greater efficiency. You will have a whole kingdom to command."

"I can already command all in my kingdom."

"And how much greater will it be to be a king with subjects who are aware of the gift you have given them? To rule over those who serve faithfully because they have gratitude in their souls?"

For the first time in their meeting, Viego's expression was one of curiosity. Karthus saw this and seized the opportunity to press his case.

"And my daughter would be a faithful servant of the Isles. This place is her homeland. She loves it and care deeply for the souls who dwell in this place. She desires nothing more than to aid them. She wants to serve you."

"If she is as willing to serve as you claim, what has prevented her from doing so?"

"There is one complication."

"What is it?"

"Her magic, it has grown ill. The Black Mist is within her. I have no doubt that it is what has sustained her all these years and had empowered her magic, but now, it is causing her pain. Now I fear it is consuming her. She shivers as though she is freezing, she is lethargic in her movements, and the mist chokes her throat. It is killing her."

"And what if she dies? She will still serve me in death."

"But as she continues to grow, as she continues to live, her powers have flourished. If she continues to survive, I have no doubt that her magic will become yet stronger. That is why I have come to you, my king. Spare her now, so that when it is time for her to die, she will be a greater champion of the Isles. She has lost control of the mist within herself, but it will bow to its progenitor. Please, reign in the mist that has become wild. I beseech you, save my daughter."

"Answer me a question first."

"I shall."

"If her powers are of such use to me, why has she not been brought to me before? Why keep her form me for a decade, Karthus?"

"Raising her has been one of the most satisfying tasks of my existence, but I will not lie, it has also been challenging. You have so many troubles on your mind. You have your queen to think of, a kingdom to prepare for her."

"Yes. It must be perfect for her."

"I simply did not wish to add raising a child to your burdens. If you feel any anger about her delayed introduction to you, direct it towards me, not her. I only did what I thought was best."

Viego reclined into the cracked throne and looked down at the other wraith, considering what he had said. He tapped his fingers on the armrest of the throne, as if impatient with his own thoughts. The restless sound of his gauntlets rang out clearly in the silence of the sunless room. At length, he spoke.

"You have always been a loyal servant, Karthus," Viego spoke, "you came to join the Isles willingly, championed my cause without prompting, and now seek my forgiveness rather than continue to conceal your misdeed. I am not a king without mercy. I forgive your transgression."

"Thank you, sire."

"This is with the understanding that you do not withhold further information about her from me. I may not be so forgiving next time."

"A fair request."

"And that you will work to amend this lapse in judgement immediately."

"I shall."

"Bring her to me tomorrow. I shall see if she is as you claim her to be."

"And of the mist within her?"

"It will be quelled."

"Thank you, sire."

"You are dismissed, Karthus. Go and prepare her."

Karthus gave a final bow and turned to leave, but before he was able to, Viego called out to him.

"Stop."

Karthus ceased moving at once.

"Yes, my king?"

"A final question before you depart. Your daughter's name, what is it?"

"Achlys."