A/N: Wow. Hi there. It's been 11 years since the last update, and in the unlikely chance that anyone is still reading this and got an update notification through e-mail after subscribing in another era: welcome back, from the bottom of my heart.
This will be a long and rambling author's note, forgive me - if you just found this story recently and/or you're just here for the story - totally understandable, skip this and read on, have a nice day.
For anyone who needs an explanation - when I started writing this story, in 2012 apparently, I was 17. And I'll be honest with y'all - it got too much for me to handle at a certain point. I didn't have the ability at that age to tell the story the way I wanted it to be told. I was grappling with things I did not really understand. It felt too much, too heavy. As a sidenote, I quit the game for years around this time as well between college taking up so much of my time, and my teenage temper being unable to handle the toxicity the gaming side of this community has always been famous for. (I'm back now, sort of casually, I play on NA rage-free and somehow it's weirdly cathartic to me now)
This story was (still is) so important to me, and looking back, writing this had a profound impact on me, as a person and as a writer. It always bothered me that I left it unfinished. I was going through some shit when I started this and it became a way to process. Well, I'm going through more shit now, I haven't written anything in years so forgive the rust, but writing has always been how I cope, which means I have not really been coping lately, so let's give this another try.
I've had multiple readers reach out to me over the years, telling me how much this story impacted them, and I am beyond grateful for each and every comment I've ever gotten, even during my very long period of silence.
I am 30 years old now. I am a different gender than I was when I started this. I have had so, so much change over the years. But I've never forgotten about this crackship fanfiction that started off as a silly joke with some of my friends on Skype (remember SKYPE y'all? lol) and spiralled into something larger than I could have ever possibly foreseen.
So, here I am, over a decade later, determined to give the story that shaped my life a proper ending. If you are reading this, it means that I have managed to write the next few chapters out in at least draft form, because I will not be posting this if I have the slightest fear that I will do the same thing I did long ago and get overwhelmed and abandon it. It's too damn important to me to do this right. I will be updating with relative frequency as I edit them, but I am not posting this without a solid af foundation of how it's going to move forward.
I will admit, in the couple of years that followed my last update, I wrote like...4 completely different drafts of this chapter and I hated each one more than the last, hence the ghosting. Don't ask me how but I somehow recovered them, and my notes, discarded all but the bits I could work with, and this is the result. It is also a goddamn miracle that I managed to recover this account. Everybody please thank the fact that I still have the silly e-mail account I made when I was like 12.
A note about lore and canon: when I started this fic, League of Legends lore was like…two broken shoestrings and a paperclip. The League wiki had a couple sparse paragraphs about the absolute basics of Valoran lore. Obviously, since then, shittons have change, shit's been retconned, we have an award winning Netflix series now (DON'T SPOIL IT FOR ME OMG PLEASE I HAVEN'T SEEN SEASON 2 YET BUT I HEAR THERE ARE LESBIANS AND I LOVE THAT) and I just want to formally declare that I do not give a single shit about incorporating any of the new stuff into this fic. This will be written with my notes and my memories of what the hell the canon was circa 2012 when I started it, and if I have to make shit up, I will do that. If you are an Arcane superfan and none of this makes sense anymore, sorry, it's probably not for you. I will be posting a note to this effect on Chapter 1 so any new readers aren't confused by this ancient relic.
Another quick note: the observant among you may notice that I've changed the story rating to M. I do hope this doesn't deter anyone from continuing, but if you're still here, you're probably an adult by now, let's be honest. Just a warning in case anyone is put off by mature content.
Furthermore, I'm not sure if anyone even reads this godforsaken website anymore, and I am toying with the idea of posting it on Ao3 as well with minor edits to the earlier chapters for grammar and clarity (god I was so very 17 when I wrote this, I just re-read it and some of it is yikes I'm ngl but I doubt I can bring myself to fully rewrite the parts of it that feel too teenage that I don't like anymore, so I probably won't change too much of the earlier bits if I do end up doing this).
Without further ado, here is the next installment of the crackship that delightfully ruined my life.
—-
Chapter 15: Bend or Break
A clash of steel rang through the hall, pulling Katarina's eyes from Ashe's as half a dozen swords were swiftly drawn in unison and pointed at the Noxian. The assassin became aware of the six large, well-armed barbarian men who had followed closely behind the Frost Archer. The sound was immediately followed by silence as everyone stood perfectly still.
Ashe's look immediately hardened under the tension, her face betraying none of the shock that had flashed in her eyes a moment beforehand as she withdrew her hand from Katarina's cheek.
Despite the thick air, Gisle hadn't even flinched when six swords were suddenly aimed at the woman in his arms. He was the one who broke the silence after several tense seconds. "After what she's been through, I think that is completely unnecessary," he said with calm assurance, but no one moved.
"Weapons down," ordered Ashe, her voice low but commanding.
"She is an enemy," one grunted. Ashe flicked her eyes over each one of their blades.
"Weapons. Down," she repeated. Her voice was almost colder than the Freljordian air.
"If what she says is true-"
"-then she has risked enormous consequences to be here, warning us." Ashe said, cutting him off.
"It could be a trick!" Shouted another. "A ploy, for your own life, my queen." The title came out as a sneer, with none of the respect Ashe was due.
"You would do well to let me and my guard worry about such things," came the sharp reply. "I will not have swords in my hall threatening the life of an injured informant. I will tell you one more time, and if you do not listen, I will have my guard arrest you. Weapons down."
After a moment, the six men slowly sheathed their swords. Ashe's fists unclenched slightly as they did so, but the movement was lost to everyone save Katarina.
"Apologies, my queen," said the largest of them, bowing his head slightly.
"Do not question my orders again," she fixed the men with a hard glare. She turned back to Katarina, but her look and tone did not soften. "Tell me what you know."
The Noxian's throat dried up, but she made herself speak. "Very little," she admitted. "I've only pieced it together. I was ordered to report to Dodkjole after…receiving orders that I did not follow."
"Why should we believe you?" asked Tyrus, stepping out from behind Gisle to glare at Katarina, who looked from Ashe's hard expression to his accusing one.
"Because I know Grand General Swain better than any of you."
Everyone in the room stirred uneasily, but no one disputed the troubling news as the new title was announced.
"He's right," said one of the men whose thick black beard dominated his face. "We have no reason to trust her."
"I do," Ashe stated firmly. "I trust Katarina with my life." The Noxian's stomach twisted into a painful knot. She dropped the archer's gaze as guilt washed over her.
"And why should we?" he asked.
"Because if you don't, we may all die."
The man's hand flew to his sword.
"Varik," commanded the man behind him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder to still the motion. He was the big one who had apologized, with a deep voice that reverberated through the hall. His fiery beard was short and well-trimmed. "Remember your oaths."
"My oaths were sworn to Tryndamere," he countered, though he let go of his sword hilt.
"And to Freljord, and thus to Queen Ashe." Varik grit his teeth and shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Tryndamere broke his oaths to the League and awaits full trial," interjected Tyrus.
The man turned his eyes on the young summoner, his mouth twisting in disgust. "You shut your mouth, pretty boy. The day a king gets thrown in jail because his bitch gets a bruise or two – "
Katarina's eyes filled with red. Feeling returned to the Noxian's limbs in a rush of heat as she sprung out of Gisle's hold. The man's reaction was sound, and he stopped the motion before she could complete the lunge, the sudden movement ripping at her already wounded shoulder in an explosion of pain that she ignored.
"Whoa there!" yelled Gisle, but he was drowned out by the Sinister Blade's vicious snarl.
"Speak of her again and I'll drive my knife through your balls, bastard!"
Varik's jaw fell open in shock. "What is this?" He exclaimed to Ashe. "The League gave you a Noxian attack dog?"
"Enough!" Bellowed Ashe, sending a perceptible chill through the room that caused everyone to shiver visibly. "You stand here and squabble while we stare destruction in the face! No one in this hall wants to see our end," she asserted, looking each of the big men in the eye. "Rakerth," she said, turning to the only unnamed man among them, "your grievances will be addressed. But I will first need your help preparing us all for what lies ahead."
The big man's brow furrowed. "And what does that mean?"
"You all need to leave-" Katarina started to say, but Ashe wouldn't have it.
"I won't abandon my homeland. We will prepare for an invasion. I have a man who can scout Dodkjole. We will find what they are hiding and know more in the morning."
The Noxian shook her head. "By then it may be too late."
"Then it would be too late to flee," Ashe responded grimly. "We will do as we have done for centuries - defend our lands."
"Ashe, please," Katarina pleaded, surprising everyone in the room, including herself. "This is not an enemy you can defeat with your bow. I know you don't want to give in, but I can't-" she cut herself off, but the words hung between them, unspoken understanding passing between the heavy stare.
I can't lose you.
Ice blue eyes softened for a fraction of a second, then hardened with increased resolve. Yet before the queen could speak, Varik piped up loudly yet again.
"This Noxian speaks to you with such familiarity, Ashe," came his sneering, accusing tone. "You say you'll tolerate no disrespect, yet you allow the enemy to speak to you in such an undignified manner," he added mockingly.
Ashe's gaze did not leave Katarina's, yet when she spoke, it was addressed to the rude man, quietly, but with a weight that was absolutely crushing. "You will be silent."
The Hall filled with the same unnatural chill, creeping up the spines of everyone present within. The next few beats left no room for a single sound. No one moved an inch. Katarina could nearly hear her own, faint heartbeat rushing in her ears from the utter stillness that surrounded them.
When she spoke again, it was in the same soft tone, yet each syllable seemed to pound in Katarina's ear.
"You have a daughter, Varik. One who has not yet seen her fifth year. Ivar. A wife, far sweeter than you deserve, who keeps your hearth warm for you. Rakerth. Twin sons, still too young to hold a blade. Balgrun, a family of five. Veliaf, a grandmother who raised you from birth, now too frail to walk. Anders, a sister whose mind has failed her, too lost to care for herself, who relies on you for everything." She turned to fix each man with a look of strength and power that betrayed none of the fear she was feeling.
"Each of you has far too much to lose to play these games with me. If there is even the slightest chance that the Sinister Blade speaks the truth, then it is not just you who are in danger - it is your children, wives, and mothers who will suffer the most at the hands of such senseless violence." She paused, letting her words hang in the air. The silence was nearly unbearable for the brief moment before she continued.
"If this is the path you wish to take, despite everything, then be done with your words. Draw your swords, here in this sacred hall, and remove my head from my body. Descend on my people and slaughter them. You will only be sparing them from death at the hands of an enemy whose brutality you cannot fathom. Freljord will fall to Noxian imperialism, and it will be you who are to blame."
"Or," she added, squaring her chin, "accept that my only mission is, and has always been, to see these lands prosper in harmony. That I possess possibly the only connections that can save us in the face of this invasion. That working together with my tribes, those you have sworn allegiance to, is the only way any of us may live to see the sun rise."
"In truth? I need you. All of you. Not just your blades, but your words. War amongst our people who now stand united has brought us nothing but cold misery in the past. Do not let politics stand in the way of all of our lives. You each have a choice - right here, right now. Cut me down where I stand, and accept your suicide as a result - or kneel. Accept my orders, and Freljord may yet live."
When she stopped, every man was staring at her in shock, as though each were in a trance of confusion, not knowing how to respond. The silence dragged on as they fell deep into thought, the heavy weight of their considerations too much to bear.
It was Tyrus who finally dared break the silence, taking a few steps to stand between Ashe and the deliberating men.
"If I may, my queen," he said with a slight bow of his head before addressing the five men before him.
"I was born of this union of nations. You all know me- some of you watched me grow up at the heels of my father, who once stood among your ranks. I know some of you have no love for the Institute, but none of you can deny the power it has given me. You've railed against it enough to know. If you will not trust your queen, perhaps you will trust me. I can enter the mind of this Noxian, judge the truth of her words. If what she says is correct, and I can confirm it, will you stay your blades? Will you stand against an enemy you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, stands at your doorstep with strength you cannot hope to defeat alone?"
Katarina stirred uneasily at his words, her heart dropping when, one by one, each man nodded at the summoner before turning their gaze to her. She closed her eyes tightly, every curse word she could think of surfacing in an instant before she looked to Ashe with barely concealed desperation. The queen met her eyes with her own worry, nervousness stirring between them, so palpable she could probably have cut the air with a knife. Ashe took a deep breath, as if in surrender, and wordlessly nodded to the broken woman with pain in her eyes.
The Noxian's stomach twisted into a knot as she met the invasive gaze of Tyrus. There was no way to convey what she needed to without revealing things she'd really rather not expose to this stranger. Suddenly this entire plan seemed even more foolish than it had while she had been stumbling through the frozen tundra on the verge of death.
"What will it be, Noxian?"
What choice did she have, really?
"Do it," she said, trying and failing to sound as though she didn't care.
Tyrus nodded solemnly, his eyes sliding shut. Not a moment later, she felt the familiar tingling of summoning magic prying at her most private thoughts.
Before you look, just…the Noxian struggled with the thought, failing to think of anything in the world that could explain what he was about to find in her brain. Please, just know that I'm sorry.
It is not my place to judge you, came the unexpectedly soothing response, only to know if your words ring true.
Sighing internally, Katarina let down her walls and let the flood of thoughts she'd tried to lock away fill the shared space between them.
She didn't try to hide anything. The Noxian war council, the information from Swain, from her sister, from Talon, the plan that had first filled her with so much frustration, which turned into the most unlikely friendship she ever could have anticipated…then, with a shudder, the betrayal. The turmoil she had felt at Swain's orders, the tears she'd promised to never speak to a soul of. The pain that had wracked her body that night, holding her knife to Ashe's throat in her hospital bed, trembling as it had slipped from her fingers and fallen uselessly to the floor. The kiss that never should have happened.
Her orders to her subordinates, then, a confused mess of words she never should have uttered, her desperate thoughts that perhaps the situation could somehow be salvaged without her head ending up on a pike atop the Noxian walls. Her internal cursing of her own ineptitude for failing to put it all together as her sister hissed the words that filled her with a fear she could not explain. Her desperate trek north, her attack of her own countrymen, the words she'd muttered ceaselessly to herself with the ice as her only witness.
She shut the mental door with a tight slam as her thoughts reached the present moment, staring into this man's unyielding eyes as he saw it all.
I would never hurt her.
The words pained her, in a way, reminding her of her unforgivable failure, but that did not make them any less true.
I know, Tyrus replied, strained, as though he was momentarily overcome by the strength of her own emotion. That made two of them. I feel it in you.
He paused for a moment, as if deep in thought. Then,
I know how little you must think of me. Perhaps I should not say this, but I think I understand you now, Katarina du Couteau. Even if you do not understand yourself. Your actions may have saved countless lives. I sense that is a foreign concept to you, but you have done more good than you can comprehend. Whatever anyone else says, I will not forget this sacrifice. The path you walk now will not be kind to you. When the time comes, I will speak in your defense, for what that's worth. This is far from over, and I am not sure if you can handle what is likely to come.
The assassin swallowed past the hard lump in her throat. I don't care. Don't worry about me. Just…protect her, please. With everything you have.
The summoner's eyes softened as he replied. You've never felt anything like this in your life, have you?
The question made her deeply, viscerally uncomfortable. No, she finally admitted. I've never felt much of anything.
You are more than a human blade. Allow yourself the grace to feel. If you cannot bend, you will break.
Before she could answer, his lips were moving, speaking out loud.
"She speaks the truth. We are in danger." He turned to look at each of the men before him, looking each in the eyes as he continued. "She has risked everything, broken her oaths to her own nation, to warn us of this. If any of you still oppose her, you will have to go through me as well."
It was Rakerth who moved first, not hesitating as he dropped to his knees before Ashe, bowing his head deeply to the floor. Four of the others looked among themselves, as if still considering, before nodding and following his lead. Only Varik still stood, his eyes never leaving the queen, who held his gaze without wavering.
A full, tense minute passed.
"I will kneel," he finally uttered begrudgingly, "on one condition. When this is over, when the Noxians are no longer a threat to these lands, you will face trial. Not the pointless trials of words they hold in your little Institute. A return to our traditions - trial by combat, a fight to the death, with a blade in that pretty little hand of yours, against a champion of our choosing. If you want to lead us when the dust settles, you will have to prove it."
Tyrus bristled, taking a threatening step towards the man. "Such insolence!" he declared, "you have absolutely no right-"
The queen's words cut through everything, stopping him in his tracks.
"Deal."
Every eye in the room turned to her with incredulity. Even Varik seemed surprised that his threat had worked.
"My queen-" Tyrus began, cutting off a second time when she raised her hand to silence him.
"This is how Tryndamere won the right to rule you, is it not?" Unable to speak, Varik simply nodded. "Then I will follow the ancient ways. But you understand what you are asking, correct? Because if I do defeat your champion, that would make me your king by right. And any former kings of yours would be banished from these lands."
Varik's eyes sparkled with amusement. "That's a very big 'if'," he sneered. "But yes, I understand the ancient ways." With no further fanfare, he slowly dropped to his knees and lowered his head.
The queen let only a beat pass before issuing her next order.
"Rise, all of you. We have much to do."
The men each stood up, looking to her for their orders.
"Rakerth, Anders. The two of you will go amongst the tribes and gather anyone unfit to fight. Mothers, children, the sick, the elders. Tell them of the invasion, have them prepare to be moved before dawn."
"Veliaf, Balgrun. You will gather our warriors. Anyone with weapon proficiency will be expected to defend these lands. Arm every hand you can and report to my guard by nightfall with their numbers. Post a rotating guard along the walls and order the best scouts you can find into the mountains. Instruct them to report any changes they see, no matter how insignificant."
"Varik, Ivar. Rally the builders. Have them reinforce our walls, our trebuchets. Lock every gate into and out of the city. No one enters from this point on."
Each man nodded agreement as they received their orders. It was at this point that both Tyrus and Katarina opened their mouths to speak, but the barbarian summoner got his words out first.
"My queen, from what I have seen, the Noxian is likely right about her nation possessing weapons we cannot hope to defend against."
The Frost Archer nodded solemnly. "I understand. That will be left to me. But first…" she stepped past him and approached Gisle, opening her arms. "Remove her binds and pass her to me."
The big trapper looked at her with hesitation. "I don't mind carrying her, my queen-"
"That was not a suggestion," she said forcefully.
He nodded his head, then used it to motion to Tyrus. "My knife is on my belt. Use it to cut the ropes."
The summoner moved forward and unsheathed the small hunting blade from its position. The steel that gently touched Katarina's wrists as he moved to cut it did not even feel cold to her. When she was free, Gisle hesitated again, then slowly reached to deposit her into Ashe's waiting arms. He held on a bit longer than necessary, as though doubting her ability to take the weight, but a stern glare from the queen made him release her. The Frost Archer held her effortlessly.
"Open the gates and call in four guardsmen."
He nodded again, and four armed guards were by her side a moment later.
"With me," she said simply, turning to cross the hall.
Katarina did not think, she only moved on instinct, her head curling beneath the other woman's chin, resting against her chest, her body seeking comfort that her words did not know how to ask for. To her surprise, once they were out of sight of the five men, Ashe rested her strangely warm cheek against the assassin's forehead wordlessly.
They passed through a door behind the two stone thrones, following the hallway deeper into the building. When they reached a fork, she turned to her left and instructed one of the guardsmen to go for her best healer and have them report to the guest wing. He nodded and split off.
A strong shiver wracked Katarina's body, though she was far from able to feel the chill by this point. Her eyelids were growing heavy, her body threatening to shut down at any moment. Ashe tightened her hold on the other woman, holding her as close as she could. In a voice so soft that Katarina almost didn't hear, she whispered, "you're going to be alright."
There was compassion in her words, and it nearly broke the assassin all over again. Her brain did not know what to do with such gentleness, interpreting it only as pain. She winced, drawing further in on herself, willed the tears not to come with everything she had. It wasn't enough. They fell silently, dropping onto Ashe's collarbone. She hid her face against the Frost Archer's neck and hated herself for doing so. Here she was, being soothed like a child, unable to do anything about it. Her killer instincts railed at such treatment, but she swallowed them with great force. She did not have the strength to fight against being comforted as she otherwise would have, not now.
They reached a wooden door, and the queen ordered a guard to open it. It was a simple room, decorated with a few Freljordian symbols and icons, with a small hearth in the center against the wall and two small beds on either side of it. Wordlessly, Ashe approached one of the beds and lowered Katarina onto it, as though she were made of glass.
The assassin looked up at her, and Ashe stopped for just a moment, pressing a firm hand against hers. Katarina searched her face, unsure of what she was looking for.
"I have to go," the queen finally said, regret filling her tone. The assassin felt a sharp pang in her chest at this, even though she knew it to be true. Her fingers tightened around Ashe's without her permission, and the other woman returned the squeeze. "But I will be back. You'll have guardsmen posted at the door. No one will enter, save for my healers. You will be safe here. I give you my word."
Katarina opened her mouth and let out a shuddering breath. The pain was nearly unbearable now, her limbs numbing to all feeling, her veins heavy with lead. Her vision blurred, and suddenly the archer felt incredibly far away in her field of view.
"I don't know if I can hold on," she admitted with great agony, pushing past the parts of her that decried such vulnerability, which was just about every part of her.
Another hand rested on her forehead, brushing crimson hair from her face. She was barely aware of the sensation, wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen the motion through her hazy gaze.
"Sleep," Ashe ordered softly. "It's alright. Let go for a little while. You'll be tended to."
The Sinister Blade barely heard the last few words as her vision faded to blackness.
A/N: I know, it's a little short for such a long wait, but there's a reason, I swear. The next chapter is long, and I had no good way to break it up. It's like, 95% done as I type this, and I really hope it will make up for the wait as much as is possible.
Once again, a deep and heartfelt thank you to everyone who's followed this story over the years.