Chapter 8: Temperate Winds
The hallways were still devoid of life as Katarina led Ashe to the deserted training room and slipped inside, already beginning to stretch as she examined the rows of training dummies. Beside her, Ashe examined them as well, her expression far more reserved.
As Katarina moved to arrange the rows, she discreetly watched the Frost Archer out of the corner of her eye as she hesitantly set aside her bow with great care. Slowly, she pulled out the knife at her waist and started to look over the blade. The assassin paused to watch her for a moment before breaking the silence. "You can put that away."
Ashe paused her examination, looking up at Katarina with confusion.
"You aren't going to start with that," clarified the Noxian, crossing to the wall of training weapons and looking over the selection with a critical eye. "Actually, give it to me," she amended after a moment of thought.
A frosty hilt slipped into her grasp, and she took the time to appreciate the way the room's dim lighting sent soft prisms reflecting off of the ice-covered blade. The craftsmanship was detailed and very elegant, a stark contrast to the heavy, practical Noxian style she was used to. The frost enchantment gave it a surprising weight, and Katarina absently rolled the hilt in her fingers to get a feel for the weapon. She reached for a training knife of similar size, testing it in her other hand, comparing the two.
"Size, weight, metal, grip…" she listed absently as she gave the blade a few practice swings. "It's important to find a training blade as close to your actual weapon as possible."
Ashe nodded slowly as she watched the assassin. "Height, tautness, weight, composition," she muttered under her breath.
"Hmm?" Katarina looked at the other woman with confusion.
"Oh, it's the same with a bow, ideally," she explained. "Or do you think I started with Styrke?"
The Noxian cast a sideways glance at the elegant bow in the corner. The craftsmanship so expertly reflected that of the blade that Katarina still held, twinkling in the light. It was beautiful, and she almost said so, but stopped herself, returning to the task at hand. "Try this."
Cold fingers hesitantly closed around the hilt of the training weapon and took a few practice slashes at the air. The Noxian hid the gentle smirk that spread across her face at the sight of Ashe's inexperience. "Interesting form," she teased, setting Ashe's dagger aside and pulling the nearest training dummy out of formation. She set it right in front of herself while the archer ran a hand through her thick locks, embarrassed. Katarina pretended not to notice.
"Alright. Your targets," she began, removing a blade from the small set at her waist, "are as follows." She moved with lightning speed to showcase the right locations, naming them as she went. He first blade slid into the dummy's neck, sending puffs of sawdust into the air. "Throat."
She removed another blade and faded into a purple mist, teleporting directly behind her 'enemy' and burying the knife in between its shoulder blades. "Back."
A third blade slipped into her fingers as she faced the dummy again in the blink of an eye, hand closed around a hilt that was protruding from its chest. "Heart – a bit trickier, as you have to aim in-between your enemy's ribs, but even if you don't hit the heart, you can still get a lung."
Her hand lowered, darting in a blur of motion to impale the dummy's stomach. "Gut – these aren't fun to get. They kill, but slowly. Not the most practical hits on the Fields."
Immediately, she was behind the target again, lower to the ground. It was here that she finally paused, bringing her blinding pace to a screeching halt. She frowned as she stared at the dummy.
Ashe, who had been watching the lightning fast demonstration with unblinking eyes, shook her head once to clear it before questioning the assassin. "What's wrong?"
"Damn dummies don't have legs," she grumbled in response, rising from her crouched position with a slight huff.
Ashe chuckled softly.
"What?"
The archer shook her head. "You just look so…put off," she explained, a slight grin on her face as Katarina glared at her.
"Well, if the Institute can afford to put paneled mahogany walls in Swain's room, you'd think they could afford to give their dummies some legs."
Ashe quirked her brow at the statement. "Paneled mahogany walls?"
"Ridiculous, right?" said the assassin, moving to the line of unfortunately-legless dummies and motioning Ashe to follow her. "But we'll work with these. I was going to add the back of the knee as a potential target, if you ever happen to be on that level. It won't kill anyone, but they sure won't be going anywhere after that."
The archer nodded as she followed Katarina. "Right. That's usually where you aim when you want to detain someone without killing them."
The Noxian smirked at that. "Do you make a habit of shooting people's knees?"
"Do you make a habit of stabbing them?" countered Ashe.
The question lingered in Katarina's ears, and despite the archer's light-hearted tone, a memory surfaced.
Katarina sat on the bank of the Serpentine River, her body alert and scanning the trees for any potential threats, despite her previous intention of resting. Though she doubted that the Demacians would be anywhere near the area, she knew they would be looking for their missing soldier. She had chosen the remote position for a reason, but she knew better than to let her guard down.
After several moments of intently listening to nothing but the natural sounds of the forest, she slowly arose, forcing all thoughts of fatigue from her mind. Though her military uniform was incredibly ill-suited for the climate, though she had not slept in 48 hours, though the deep gash at her left eye throbbed painfully as it attempted to heal, she held herself with dignity and purpose.
She was fully aware of the fact that she was being tested, and while she couldn't be sure exactly how much value would be placed on the words of the underlings she commanded, she would make a lasting impression on them either way. They didn't seem to share her philosophy, and the group of twelve soldiers around her was certainly anything but dignified. They lay in the marsh, exhausted, clearly suffering from the heat, uniforms torn and poorly patched. It didn't help that their food supplies were dwindling to almost nothing.
Yet still, they found the energy to lift their heads from the ground as she passed, and every gaze that met hers kindled sparks of fear and respect. She felt the attention drawn to her eye, and every time her men stared at the wound, she could hear the questions that died on their lips, silenced by the intensity of her gaze.
She knew full well that she was all they had – that exhausted, famished men so far from home would cling to authority like a desperate child to its mother. That instinct, deep and powerful, was the sole reason she had come to almost appreciate the meager amount of supplies she had been given. Her men were broken and starving, forced to such extreme lows that they followed her - the picture of Noxian strength – eagerly and without question, trusting, needing her to bring them home again.
As she approached the center of their hastily-constructed camp, the one other soldier who hadn't collapsed into the mud sat over an unconscious figure, keeping watch over the surroundings as Katarina had. At least, that was what he appeared to be doing, but as Katarina came closer to him, she noticed the distance in his eyes and quickly realized he was not present. It wasn't until she stood ten feet from the young man that he suddenly returned to himself, shooting up from the small rock he had sat on, his quivering hand saluting her respectfully.
"Keep better watch," she commanded, to which he nodded.
"Yes, Sinister Blade."
Her attention was drawn to the unconscious figure, a soldier who was clearly from a contingent that had faired quite better than Katarina's own sorry excuse for a company. Despite his obvious low-ranking status, he appeared quite well fed, his Demacian uniform of a surprisingly high quality. Still, he was younger than she had anticipated.
"Why isn't he bound?" she asked sharply, observing as the young man stirred uneasily.
Her soldier ran a nervous hand through his dirty hair before shaking his head. "We have nothing to bind him with."
"What? Not even a simple rope?"
The man shook his head, indicating the meager pile of bags behind him. "We may have lost some supplies in the swamp. All we have left is a bit of bread and meat, some clean water, matches, and some extra knives. No rope."
Katarina resisted the intense urge to swear. She tried not to dwell too long on the reasoning behind the lack of adequate supplies as she moved to dig through the bags, hand closing around a pair of particularly large, sharp blades. An idea surfaced in her head, and she felt a slight shiver down her spine as the answer came to her.
She gripped the hilts tightly as she moved back to the Demacian prisoner who still had no idea that he'd been captured, held in some world far beyond reality by debilitating drugs. But even as she watched him, she could tell that the effects were wearing off. His movement became more frequent, and his eyes were starting to twitch hesitantly. She had to act fast. Her hands were trembling slightly, but she held them away from the eyes of her soldier.
"Move him over there," she nodded to indicate a good-sized fallen tree. "Stomach flat against the wood. Quickly."
Despite his exhaustion, the soldier obliged, carrying the man awkwardly and leaning him as instructed. Katarina approached the Demacian as he lay in his fitful rest, allowing herself a moment to observe him. That was a mistake. The sick feeling had returned to her gut. She hesitated, then hated herself for hesitating before lifting the knives.
"This is a teachable moment," she said to the man who stood beside her, staring uneasily at the fallen tree. "When you run out of supplies, you make do with what you have. Hold down his hands." The soldier obeyed, holding the man's wrists in a tight grip.
Carefully, she rested the tips of both blades against the back of the man's knees, inhaled once, then drove them through with a powerful thrust. The man's agonized scream rang through the clearing as Katarina met resistance, hitting tendons that prevented the blade from passing all the way through. The Demacian's eyes shot open and he began to thrash wildly, but Katarina's grip on the knives did not falter.
The Noxian soldier flinched instinctively, his eyes wide with horror at the sight before him. In his expression, she saw the same hesitance that she had felt moments previously. His hold was slipping. Katarina spared only a moment to glare at him, pinning him in place with her cold gaze. Her hatred for the man's weakness fueled her, banishing her own thoughts.
"Hold him steady!" she ordered over the screaming, waiting for no response as she drove her weight against the blades until they bit into the wood of the tree below.
The echoes of the soldier's screams called Katarina out of her memory and back into the present, where Ashe stood looking at her with concern. "Are…you alright?" she asked gently, resting a steadying hand on the Noxian's shoulder, which Katarina shook off. The intensity of the memory had startled her. Where had that come from, and why? Part of her intensive training had been to block parts of her mind – memories, unwanted connections, etc. Coupled with Raina's recent invasion of her mental defenses, the unwanted flashbacks were unnerving to the assassin.
"I'm fine," she lied. "And no, I can't say that I've stabbed any knees recently," she answered truthfully. The light mood between them had dissipated suddenly. "I kill efficiently now," she added without thinking.
Ashe stared at her intently, searching her face. Katarina turned away, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. What is she looking for? She wondered to herself, unsettled.
"Ignore the knees for now," she said, partly as a command to herself, partly as training instructions, and mostly to change the topic quickly. "But hit the other four. Oh, one more thing. You'll of course have to change these targets depending on your opponent. I've developed new tactics to deal with the more…unique enemies within the League. We'll only focus on humans. But even then, there is variance. Armor, fight style…which reminds me…"
She held up her right arm, giving it a single thump. "Sword arm. For some opponents, this will be essential." She tried (unsuccessfully) to not think of Tryndamere as she gave the instruction, but Ashe only nodded with understanding and determination, apparently willing to abandon her search.
Carefully, the archer gripped the training blade, facing her dummy.
"Pause," said Katarina, stepping in.
"That was fast," said Ashe with a smirk, glancing down at her hand as the Noxian carefully removed her fingers and curled each one properly around the hilt.
"Steady grip. Attack when ready. And put your whole body into it; damn training blades don't cut for shit."
After several minutes, the dummy was full of gouges and bleeding sawdust all over the floor. As Ashe dramatically struck her blade into the heart of the dummy, it finally collapsed into ribbons and fell in a disorganized pile to the floor.
"I think it's dead," she remarked.
Katarina nodded in satisfaction and kicked the dust on the floor, sending clouds of it into the air. Her gaze followed the shower of particles that swirled around, some of it landing onto Ashe's figure as she stood perfectly still, blade still in hand, her face concealed by the cowl that was pulled all the way over her head. Katarina frowned as she noticed this, and without a thought, she closed the distance between them and gently pulled the cowl down.
The movement startled the archer out of her thoughts, and she looked up at the Noxian with confusion.
An awkward pause filled the room as Katarina suddenly realized the strangeness of her action. "It will help you move better," she covered, giving a gentle tug on the cloak. After a moment of hesitation, Ashe nodded, untying the knot at her throat and carefully removing the garment, setting it aside on a nearby bench. When she turned back to the pile of sawdust on the floor, she let out a slight sigh.
"That was bad."
Katarina shook her head. "I wouldn't say that."
"Oh? What would you call it, then?"
The Noxian considered for a moment. "Have you ever heard of a cougar cub attacking a passing bug to learn how to pounce?"
Silence.
"You are not funny," said Ashe, adopting her rigid, formal tone.
"I'm actually hilarious," countered Katarina, "but not right now. What you did was actually important. You need to simply get a feel for the blade in your hand, how it moves, what it's capable of." As Katarina spoke, she moved to the wall of training weapons. "As I said, your first instinct when you lost your bow was to go for the dagger. That's excellent. Now what you need is comfort with it, in all manner of combat situations."
With that, she pulled a training sword from the wall and turned to face Ashe, who stared at the weapon in Katarina's hands with wide eyes before turning back to her dagger.
"I'm supposed to deflect that…with this?" she asked incredulously.
"Size is less important than skill," Katarina replied, "and before you complain about that, I promise to go stupidly easy on you."
The archer sighed in resignation and gripped her training knife properly, automatically falling into a stance that would allow for quick movement.
"Your primary target?" quizzed Katarina.
Ashe eyed the blade in her hand. "Sword arm."
The assassin pulled a long metal cuff from the wall, quickly securing it to her forearm while she nodded in satisfaction. "Your first goal is to disarm me. My blade is longer – use this to your advantage. Dodge my blows and counterattack. Be quick."
Without waiting for a response, the Noxian lunged, swinging her sword in a wide, obvious arc. Ashe dodged the strike easily but made no move to counter, watching Katarina carefully. The two women circled each other for a moment before the assassin closed the distance and aimed a slash at Ashe's shoulder. The archer ducked, narrowly avoiding the hit, and retreated again. After dodging several more blows, she clearly seemed to be getting into a good rhythm, though she had made no attempt to counterattack.
Katarina felt frustrated at the woman's lack of aggression as she continued to simply dodge the assassin's attacks. The two fought for another few minutes before the Noxian decided to break her rhythm, suddenly moving in with a sharp stab.
Ashe reacted with lightning reflexes, turning her body so that Katarina's sword pierced only the air in front of her. This put the archer at a perfect position to strike at the other woman's protected sword arm with her blade.
Clang.
The sound rang through the near-empty training room, and Katarina's arm trembled from the impact, but she recovered immediately and jumped away before the archer could attack again.
She was waiting for that, Katarina realized as she watched Ashe with a critical eye. That explained why she hadn't immediately counterattacked. She had been watching the Noxian's form and waiting for the right moment to strike.
It was fairly easy, given her inexperience with a blade, to assume that Ashe would be less capable in this fight. Though her movements with the blade itself were certainly heavy and awkward as she struggled to get a feel for the weapon in her hands, she still knew all too well the thrill of battle. Katarina had to remind herself that she was not a green soldier in training. She knew how it felt to kill. She had stared down countless enemies through her bow, watching their every movement, waiting for them to make a mistake that would allow for a killing shot.
Even as these thoughts occurred to her, she could feel ice blue eyes taking in every detail – Katarina's stance, grip, and movement. She was learning the Noxian's patterns, and learning them quickly.
Swain's words echoed through Katarina's head: She is not to be underestimated.
Undeterred, the assassin fell back into her stance and decided to tighten her technique. "Good hit," she muttered. Ashe did not acknowledge the remark and kept her concentration, waiting for Katarina to begin attacking again.
The next round began the real challenge as the archer struggled to keep up with the faster pace, but the Noxian did not relent. She repeatedly landed "hits" on Ashe – halting her blade just before she could actually strike the woman, long enough to get the message across.
If she were my soldier, she would be in a lot of pain, thought the assassin darkly. She never spared an underling any training hits. After all, pain was excellent reinforcement. Yet Ashe was her equal in the League, and to use the same training philosophy that she used on fresh idiots who had never held a sword in their lives seemed inappropriate. At least, that was what she told herself as she kept count of how many times she dealt fake-killing blows. Ashe launched few counterattacks as she focused primarily on dodging, her calculating eyes taking in Katarina's tighter, more versatile movement.
Finally, as the assassin aimed a carefully-controlled slash at her opponent's neck, Ashe ducked, and, with one fluid movement, swung her dagger above her, knocking Katarina's arm out of the air and eliciting a scream of protest from the metal cuff. Before the Noxian could properly react, the knife had traveled the length of the cuff and met unprotected skin, slicing a shallow gash just above the woman's elbow.
Katarina raised her eyebrows in surprise, jumping backwards. She looked down at her sword arm and frowned slightly at the wound.
"I hit you, didn't I?" asked Ashe, lowering the dagger and looking at the woman with concern. "The knife…it sort of slid against the metal, I wasn't expecting it." As she spoke, Katarina watched the thin line of crimson surface, spreading across her skin. When she didn't respond, Ashe dropped the blade and approached her, reaching out a hand to grasp the metal cuff and inspect the slice.
"It's nothing," said Katarina quickly, cutting off the other woman's apology. "I can take a lot more than this. You just surprised me." As she spoke, Ashe began to remove the metal cuff. The Noxian resisted the urge to pull her arm away, uncomfortable. "I can fix it myself, you know."
The archer ignored her words, holding Katarina's arm still. With her free hand, she reached to a small leather pouch at her belt and pulled out a small handkerchief emblazoned with the Freljordian crest, gently pressing it to the wound. An involuntary shiver passed through Katarina at her touch.
"I carry first aid, everywhere," said the archer as she produced a bandage from the same pouch.
"It's a training hit," insisted Katarina, "I take them all the time." Still, she didn't resist as Ashe carefully wrapped the bandage around the cut.
"That doesn't mean you should just ignore them," replied the archer. As she finished with the bandage, her eyes rose to meet Katarina's, and she paused. The Noxian could feel her gaze directed to her left eye.
The gash that ran from her forehead to her cheek had, of course, long since healed, but the process had been slow. Most people who looked at the scar would correctly guess that she hadn't received treatment for the wound. As a result, the scar tissue was jagged and uneven, having healed awkwardly without the aid of stitches.
Katarina could feel the question on the woman's lips and turned away before she could ask it. "Thanks," she said simply.
There was a moment of silence before Ashe responded. "Of course. I'm sorry for hitting you."
"It wasn't a bad attack. Uncontrolled, but you managed to catch a weak point, which is the important part." The Noxian turned back to Ashe, but avoided her gaze. "In a real fight, that would have dangerously exposed your left side and I would have been able to use your momentum to knock you down -"
"But you were going easy on me," interjected Ashe.
Katarina shook her head. "No. I was attacking you without the intent of hurting you."
"…Isn't that the same thing?"
"It isn't." Katarina crossed to the bench where she'd left Ashe's dagger, taking the frosted hilt again and holding it in the air between them. "The most important thing you need to know about close combat is to always be aware of your intent." The knife glittered in the light as she turned the hilt, highlighting her words. "Why are you fighting, and what do you want the desired outcome to be? Do you want to distract your enemy? Wound them? Disarm them? Kill them?"
She paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "You need to be aware of these things. All of them, at once, while in the heat of battle. And as if that wasn't enough, you need to also be aware of yourself. If your intent is to kill, do you have the ability to do that?"
Ashe regarded the assassin with a hardened expression. "You say this as though I haven't killed before."
The Noxian shook her head. "It's different with a knife. You feel their last breath. You hear their last words. Their blood stains your feet, your hands, your clothes. It's much different than killing from a distance. It's quite intimate, to feel a dying soul so close to you, to have your enemy completely exposed, at his most vulnerable." Another involuntary shiver shook the base of her spine and her eyes slid shut as she continued. "If you go into battle with the intent to kill, you have to know that you can. Every soldier in Noxus learns this."
Ashe seemed to consider for a moment, leaning back against the wall. "But it's different here," she said.
Katarina nodded. "Killing on the Fields is quite different," she agreed.
The room filled with a comfortable silence while the two women rested, each lost in her own thoughts. It wasn't until several minutes passed that Ashe finally whispered, "You're different there. When you're on the Fields."
Her words filled the assassin with a powerful sense of discomfort. She sat in the silence for a moment, letting her mind fill with images of battle. It was true, in some ways. She became a different person when fighting. Yet the instincts were not something her body ever let her forget.
Still. It had changed in the League. The constant, bloody environment coupled with the bizarre realization that her kills were no longer permanent. Certainly, this knowledge had changed her intent. There was never any hesitation now, when aiming a knife at a champion's back. That had all changed.
She was grateful. The last thing an assassin needed was hesitation. The single, dull throb from the slash across her left eye felt almost like an agreement.
Before letting herself think any further, the Noxian moved to the wall of training weapons and replaced her sword, running her fingers along the wall. She could feel Ashe's gaze on her and knew that the archer was waiting for some sort of a response to her statement. She turned her attention to the nearby row of training bows that lined the wall beside the blades.
"And I imagine this feels even more different," she deflected, pulling a bow at random in an attempt to steer the conversation away from her.
Ashe stepped away from the wall and her hard expression seemed to fade. "Did you ever learn to shoot?"
Katarina examined the bow carefully, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for. "A little," she explained, "back at the academy. I didn't take to it. It's been years."
The archer gave the other woman a hesitant smile. "Let me teach you something for once."
She approached the training wall and pulled down another bow, slightly larger than the one Katarina held. "This should suit you better, for now. It's larger and less taut," she explained. "It won't fight against you as much."
The Noxian took the bow from her hands and stared down the row of targets on the opposite wall while Ashe took a quiver of basic arrows to match. "Show me what they teach you in Noxian academies," she said with a gesture at the closest target.
Katarina thought back to her early training sessions and recalled one of the few times she'd been required to hold a bow. Carefully, she attempted to mimic the stance, pulling an arrow from the quiver and stringing it awkwardly before pulling it taut and facing her target.
"You're not holding it right," remarked Ashe, stepping up beside Katarina and putting her hand on the wood of the training bow, right above the Noxian's. She adjusted her grip to match that of the archer's, hyperaware of the other woman's proximity as she leaned close to stare down the arrow's path. "Aim higher," she said softly, close enough to send a fan of cool breath across Katarina's skin.
With her free hand, Ashe raised the assassin's elbow, still staring down the sight as she made the adjustments to Katarina's stance. The Noxian paid more attention to the archer than to the bow in her hand. Her expression was focused and calculating as she lined up the shot, eyes narrowing on the target in front of them. Katarina took all of it in – the gentle furrow in her brow, the purpose in her eyes…the ring of purple. The bowstring gave a groan in protest at being held taut for so long, and Katarina's fingers shook for a moment under the pressure as she carefully readjusted her hold.
Ashe stepped away, cutting through her thoughts.
"Release," she ordered.
The arrow sailed through the air, sliding into the target about a foot away from the center mark. The Noxian lowered the training bow, running a finger over the string to stop the vibrations.
"Not bad," Ashe remarked, again standing right beside Katarina, eyes focused on the arrow as she analyzed the shot. Katarina's eyes, however, were drawn back to Ashe.
Until that moment, she hadn't spent grand amounts of time contemplating the true extent of the other woman's situation. She had gone over the images in her head; had relived the night she had spied on the couple behind the bar, the small details such as the way he held her as though she would bolt at any minute, or the way her body tensed at even the slightest contact with him. She had on only a small number of occasions found herself idly wondering, Why? Why would such a woman put up with a man like Tryndamere? What possible reason did she have to remain quiet?
Katarina's knowledge of the human psyche had been quite carefully constructed throughout her training. She knew firsthand the behavior of dying men, desperate men, lost men, of anguished mothers torn from their families, of soldiers brought to the threshold of agony; of shamed, humiliated souls searching for redemption. None of these images offered any clearer understanding of the woman in front of her. In her experience, someone in a situation of consistent pain and abuse sought to escape by any means necessary. This was a fundamental human response, and one she had often relied on – without it, torture itself would be ineffective.
Of course, there were men who spent days bound to the cold tables and endured, dying miserably without uttering a word. Katarina herself had, in another era, been instructed to do exactly that if the need arose, and had never doubted her ability to do so. Yet, in such a situation, her death would serve to protect the glory and safety of Noxus – a cause she was very prepared to lay down her life for. Katarina remembered the burning anger, the hatred branded on Ashe's face that night behind the bar as she had watched Tryndamere depart without looking over his shoulder, as if she were nothing. People with rage that powerful killed. Yet the archer endured, silently. Despite the fury she felt, she not only remained by the man's side, but each day that passed saw her stand tall, proud, regal – the beautiful Queen before her subjects.
She was strong, commanding, and deadly.
Why?
A born leader, worthy of respect and admiration.
Why does she stay?
Without thinking about her actions, Katarina reached out a hand in the air between them, letting her fingers brush lightly over the crescent of purple skin around Ashe's eye. The feather light touch was gentler than anything she would have thought herself capable of as some deep, typically-ignored instinct told her to be careful of the sensitive area. The skin was warmer than she had anticipated, perhaps even as warm as her own fingers.
Ashe halted her examination immediately, suddenly going very still at the unexpected contact. Katarina heard her take a small, sharp breath, but she made no move to distance herself or to shake off the touch. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she sighed softly, releasing the tension from her body. Katarina continued to run her fingers over the mark, tracing the outline with extreme care.
A moment passed before Ashe's eyes slid open again, giving her the same searching look as before, though now she seemed…more hesitant, almost fearful. She looked as if she wanted to speak, but she had hardly opened her mouth before the sound of a door opening behind them cut through the stillness of the room.
The noise was all that was required to break the spell, and Katarina reacted as fast as possible, dissipating into the air and reappearing high above Ashe's head, perched among the wooden beams of the ceiling. The move was completed so quickly that Ashe herself took several seconds to register that the Noxian was no longer standing in front of her, and even after the door had fully opened, she was still staring at the spot were Katarina had stood.
"…What the fuck are you doing?"
Ashe's head shot up as the sound of Tryndamere's slurred words cut through her thoughts. The barbarian filled the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest as he glared down at the training bow that had clattered to the floor. A moment of tense silence filled the room as Ashe attempted to compose herself. From Katarina's position on the ceiling, she couldn't see the woman's face.
"Stress relief," she finally said, bending down to pick up the training bow and moving to set it aside.
Tryndamere shook his head and followed her, stumbling a little, too close to her for Katarina's liking. The Noxian tensed, gripping the beam tighter, her body coiled like a spring.
"Do you have any idea…what time it is?" he said accusingly. As he moved closer, Katarina could detect the smell of alcohol.
"And how long have you been out?" Ashe asked, keeping her back to him and her tone as level as possible.
The anger on his face seemed to dissipate in a cloud of confusion. He stood stupidly for a moment before suddenly erupting into laughter – a heavy, booming sound that echoed off the walls. He was clearly unaware of his volume. "Celebrating the victory of Freljord!" he roared, his tone mocking as he thrust his fist in the air, a move that threatened to throw him off balance. "Killed those yordles good! Can't carry those scruffy fucks…" he paused for a moment to hiccup before continuing. "Showed you, too. Ha! Showed you good…had to show where I belong, caught in a shit team. So I cut the queen!"
His words fell away into another roar of laughter. Ashe stood rigid as she picked up and shouldered her bow, her face still hidden from Katarina.
"Did good for that one…you have to admit. Sure you felt it! Wouldn't be surprised…such a good cut, got to thinking…summoning magic be damned, I bet you got a line where it stitched you back up…"
His hand moved for the archer's tunic, and Katarina pulled out her knife. Ashe, however, reacted faster, her hand closing around the man's thick wrist. Despite the size difference, she seemed to hold him in place without issue.
"Get back to the room," she ordered, her voice low and threatening.
Tryndamere stared at her blankly for a moment before breaking out into a wide grin. "That a promise?"
"Go."
He seemed to deliberate for a moment before giving a sudden tug, ripping his arm from the woman's grip. The anger returned suddenly, and he stepped even closer, drawing himself to his full height as he stared down at her.
"I leave when I decide to," he growled. "And I'm taking you with me."
He grabbed her roughly and started moving for the door, but Ashe didn't offer any resistance. Her eyes moved to the ceiling and she met Katarina's gaze for just a moment before allowing herself to be led to the door. Her expression was stoic, betraying nothing as the door closed behind her.
The Noxian sat in the silent room for a moment before releasing a heavy sigh and dropping down to the floor with a gentle 'thud.' She stared at the door for an entire minute, debating whether or not to follow the two of them. The late hour and her lack of sleep were both beginning to catch up with her, and her limbs were starting to throb in protest. She absently ran a hand over the bandage on her arm and sat down on the bench, suppressing a growl of frustration.
Why did I touch her like that? she scolded herself, staring down at her hands. Gathering information from a source was one thing, but Katarina would be damned if she allowed herself to get too involved in the Freljordian Queen's personal life.
Still. The thought of Tryndamere pulling her from the room enraged her. It wasn't like her to let the behavior of others affect her. She was no longer affiliated with the barbarian since the end of the Pacification Campaign, nor had she ever had ties with Freljord. Her sole purpose was to gather information.
…She caught herself wondering what Ashe had been about to say to her before the door opened.
Stop it, she ordered herself, shooting up from the bench, startled by the clattering that sounded at her feet as she stood. Her eyes lowered to the frosted dagger on the ground.
"Fuck," she cursed, bending down to pick up the glittering knife. So much for not thinking about Ashe. Her anxiety only increased when she realized that the other woman wouldn't have the knife right now, while she was with Tryndamere.
As if it would help, she thought to herself, running her finger across the ice, careful not to let the blade pierce her skin. Ashe was far too controlled to actually stab the barbarian.
Still, that look of rage…
The Noxian slipped the dagger into her belt and left the training room without another thought, heading towards the northern corridor - Freljord territory, traditionally. As the hour had grown even later, she passed no one at all in the hallway. Still, her paranoia got the better of her, and she listened closely for any sounds of footsteps, stepping with extreme care to keep hers silent.
It wasn't until she was halfway down the corridor that she realized she didn't actually know which door belonged to the archer. She frowned as she examined each, but they all looked the same. But Ashe was royal, and would very likely have some sort of distinction…right?
At the end of hallway, Katarina stopped short in front of a large, ornate door the color of fresh snow. In the center, a golden flourishes were gilded onto the wood, etching designs Katarina recognized from Ashe's armor, as well as from the hilt of the frozen blade. She stared at the patterns for a moment.
CRASH!
The noise sounded from the other side of the door, setting off warning bells in the assassin's head. She could hear muffled yelling, but couldn't quite make out the words. Silently, she pressed her ear to the golden markings on the door and listened, catching fragments of the conversation.
"…never listen to anything…I swear if you call me that again…who was with you? Who!"
A loud "thump" sounded, effectively halting the discussion.
Silence.
After a full minute, Katarina raised her hand to the door and knocked.
"Who's there?" yelled Tryndamere from the other side, heavy footfalls sounding as he approached the door. The Noxian swore under her breath and let herself fade into a purple mist before he could open it.
The barbarian stepped out into the seemingly empty corridor a moment later, glancing around in confusion. Katarina stared down at the top of his head from her perch on top of the doorframe.
"It's too late for this shit," he slurred, turning back around and slamming the door behind him. The Noxian waited for his footsteps to fade into silence before dropping down from the ledge and turning back to the golden designs. She couldn't help the slow smirk that spread across her face as she knocked on the wood again.
"What the fuck!" the barbarian roared, ripping open the door to empty air again. "Go away!" he bellowed at nothing, slamming the door even harder.
Katarina waited another minute before dropping back to the floor and knocking again, softer this time.
A fill minute passed. The door slid open, just a fraction of an inch. A blue eye stared out at her as she wordlessly held up the frozen dagger.
The eye disappeared for a moment, but the door remained slightly ajar. Then it opened, just enough to let the archer's hand slip through and grasp the hilt. She hid her face carefully, though Katarina caught sight of what looked like a scratch on her cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered, pulling the door shut with a soft click.
The Noxian stared at the door for a long time, waiting to hear any more warning sounds. After a long period of silence, she finally slipped away into the darkness.
A/N: Sooo, that subtle Skyrim reference.
I'm not sorry.