Thought I'd write some Freljord sexiness in celebration of the Freljord patch. With all the "enter the Freljord" buttons around the launcher, I thought of a delightful play on words ;) I'll be using skins this time around. Because why not? I changed up my style a bit: these are some of our favorite icy Champs on their home turf rather than on the Rift. And, again, I tweaked the lore to fit my needs (though most of it is spot-on).

Warning: this one's a doozy. I somehow managed to turn this one-shot into an epic x_x Also… There is "nonconsensual" sex ahead. If that's not your cup of tea, mosey on.

-Enter the Freljord-

All was still and white on Valoran's tundra. Snow had fallen several nights before, undisturbed by any manner of living thing and a lonely wind howled across the barren landscape. There was a forest of skeletal trees, naked of their leaves, and shards of rock jutting from the earth like the teeth of some monstrous creature—otherwise, there was nothing to break up the pristine stillness.

Nothing, that is, until a giant white boar crashed through the prickly underbrush, tossing its head and roaring. It stumbled and nearly fell, but the white-haired woman astride it kicked its sides sharply with her heels, snapping, "Bristle!" and it caught itself and trotted faster.

The woman tightened her grip on her flail and slung her shield over her shoulder so that she could use her free hand to hold on for dear life, eyes the same electric blue as the tundra sky scanning the snow-coated trees as they zipped by. She was clad in a horned warrior's helmet, a stump where the second horn carved from ice should have been, and a leather bikini and wrist guards—the only thing staving off the cold being the fur-lined shoulder guards and metal skirt and knee-high boots made entirely of fur. Still, the weather was the least of her concerns as she gripped the pommel of her steed's saddle and urged him onward.

From somewhere behind the duo, there was a screech and a glimmering hawk-shaped spirit soared overhead, revealing everything and everyone in its path.

The woman swore—that meant her pursuers knew exactly where she was.

Sure enough, there was another screech—this one louder and more menacing—and a giant wall of black ice shot up in front of the fleeing boar, but an Artic Assault carried them through it without any pause in Bristle's velocity. The white-haired warrior ducked and a sphere of ice shot over her head and shattered against a tree, snapping the thick trunk as though it was a toothpick. It was only when the area surrounding the pair was enveloped in a Glacial Storm of dark, icy winds that Bristle faltered.

'Too much CC. How is she not out of Mana yet?' "She" would be Anivia, the Cryophoenix. 'If I could get vision on her, I would reduce that damnable bird to egg form before she could say "Rebirth".'

Apparently her pursuers didn't agree with her CC theory as she caught sight of an all-too familiar muscular male clad in heavy gold and leather armor as he spun out of the trees, a huge sword gripped in his hands. His Mocking Shout rang out and Bristle slowed further, much to his rider's disdain.

'I cannot allow myself to be captured.'

"Give up, Sejuani!" the man chortled, spinning again, his armor glinting in the sunlight. The sound was abruptly cut off as the aforementioned woman tossed a frost-forged bola specially infused with the essence of the frozen tundra; it exploded on impact and locked him in a Glacial Prison, making it impossible for him to move for a period of time.

She smirked despite her predicament, taking certain satisfaction from harming this man in particular. 'Fool.' He wasn't fit to be king of anything.

The effect of the Mocking Shout from earlier had worn off to the point that Bristle could continue his headlong rush with fervor. Safety was within her reach!

The white-haired warrior crouched low over Bristle, goading him on. Only a little further and the others would be able to even out this 4v1—

A cask akin to the ones used for storage of alcoholic drinks rolled harmlessly into the boar's path and his rider swore again, jerking hard on the thick leather collar around his neck, but it was too late. The Explosive Cask went off and Sejuani was sent hurtling backwards, actually losing her grip on her shield and weapon as she held onto Bristle for dear life. They tumbled some distance before the boar came sliding to a halt in the center of a snow-covered clearing and would not rise no matter how she prodded him.

This was bad.

"Bristle," she hissed. "You must get up!" She couldn't very well leave him here, nor would she get very far without him.

"Silly Sejuani," a new, higher pitched voice said. She glowered up at the speaker—or, rather, at the giant snow yeti he was astride. The creature, Willump as it was called, snickered, meaty fists glowing red-orange with Blood Boil as his master continued, "You can't run from the Avarosan. Queen Ashe is the best huntress there is!"

"Enough, Nunu." That voice… Sejuani bristled, furious contempt making icy blue eyes glow. Ashe. The leader of the pathetic Avarosan—a spineless tribe of farmers named after the Queen that had done what Ashe had always dreamed of doing by reigning over a united Freljord. A Freljord that would never again be a reality with the way the warring factions split it into many uncooperative, hostile parts.

Bad blood had been a part of Freljord's history for generations now for Queen Avarosan had been challenged by her two sisters just as Ashe was challenged by the princesses of the other two tribes: Sejuani, of course, and the third the mysterious Ice Witch known as Lissandra who had been one of the original sisters. "The War of the Three Sisters" was still going on strong, though two of the three 'sisters' had changed.

"Yes, ma'am…" the child responded grudgingly and even Willump ceased his mocking laughter as a pale maiden with platinum blonde hair and sharp viridian eyes stepped out of the trees. She wore a white hooded cloth garb decorated with golden designs like she usually did while hunting on the tundra and knee-length boots over thin cloth tights; its cape and short skirt fluttered as she leaped down from a ledge to land easily next to her ally. There was a quiver that had been enchanted so that it would never run out of arrows strapped to her back and the bow in her hands—which, like Willump's, were enveloped in a red-orange energy—had belonged to Avarosa herself; made entirely of enchanted ice, it shimmered with an ancient energy.

"We've captured you at last," Ashe murmured. "You've quite a talent for jukes."

"Damn bitch ulted me square in the face!" the man from before growled, having finally caught up. When the boar-rider smirked, he advanced on her threateningly, sword raised.

"King Tryndamere," Ashe warned. The Barbarian King had quite the temper, and he probably wouldn't have even sided with the gentle Avarosan if he didn't dislike Sejuani quite so much.

He fell into place and Sejuani snorted derisively. "Be a loyal hound and obey your mistress."

"What did you say to me?"

"Sit. Stay."

A powerful red aura appeared around Tryndamere as his Fury built and the air near it warped and bent like a mirage, contrary to the pervasive chill. "Ohoho… This'll be a slaughter."

"Enough." The speaker wasn't Ashe this time, but an immense bird comprised entirely of ice—Anivia. She folded blue-black wings against her side as she landed, the pale blue horn atop her beak glinting wickedly as like-coloured eyes peered inquisitively at Sejuani. "She has a sharp tongue, but that won't save her now. What shall we do with her?"

"I say we all go back 'nd 'ave a drink!" the fourth and final member of their party slurred, finally meandering out of the forest.

"That was an exceptional ult, Gragas," Ashe commended the rather large man.

He gave her a crooked grin. "Thank ye'."

"A snow storm quickly approaches—we cannot stay here and discuss this. We shall take her back with us. See that no harm befalls her… Yet."

Sejuani sighed and she swore she felt Bristle do the same.

'Wonderful…'

Prisoner of the Avarosan.

"What do you make of our prisoner?" Anivia asked from her perch overlooking the gathered council. Like Lissandra, she had been around when Queen Avarosa, the true queen of Freljord, had been slain, and she had seen the corrupt magic that had been able to grow in strength as a result—the very same black ice that twisted her physical form now. Despite the corruption, the ancient avian guardian of the Freljord kept her wits about her.

The others sans Willump were seated around a huge stone table in a circular room with a high-domed ceiling within the base of Ashe's domain—a sturdy palace of ice and stone, hewn into the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Through the wide bay windows, they could see the ocean churn and foam like some trapped beast in response to the coming storm.

"If we could convince her to join our cause, the Avarosan would be the strongest tribe…"

"You can't convince the likes of Sejuani and her rag-tag group of savages," Tryndamere scoffed, propping his feet up on the table. He quickly removed them upon receiving a look from Ashe that rivaled the tundra in its iciness. "Best to just kill her now and be done with it—one less threat to deal with."

"She's mean," Nunu said, making a face. "And that boar of hers has nothing but nasty things to say about you, Your Highness—Willump told me so."

Ashe shook her head. "That's hardly fair… Everyone deserves a second chance."

"To do what exactly?" Anivia questioned. "You know she would kill us all in a heartbeat if she got the chance. How would allowing her to continue on her bloody warpath benefit anyone?"

They couldn't kill Sejuani—they just couldn't. The Freljord monarch's expression became unreadable and her allies glanced at each other uneasily. "I will speak to the prisoner myself."

"But Your Highness—"

"Is that wise?"

"That's crazy!"

"I must be really drunk."

"Silence." All eyes went to the blonde and she met their gazes one-by-one with unwavering certainty. "I have made my decision. Bring the prisoner to the throne room."

…Dungeon...

"Damn her…!" Sejuani snarled and slammed her fist into the thick sheet of metal that kept her contained. The blow hurt her more than anything, but pain was something she could tolerate.

Being here, in the grasp of her biggest adversary, was not.

There was a chuckle and the woman stood on tip-toe to see the fool who dared to mock her between the bars that lined the top of the door: there was a burly troll leaning comfortably against the wall opposite her cell, his long, muscular arms crossed. "Quite a predicament you find yourself in."

"Who are you?" the white-haired woman demanded. The creature had no business being here for Trundle, the king of his kind, had sided with Lissandra. The Ice Witch usually kept to herself so any activity from her pawns was a bad omen.

"Not important." He smiled, revealing teeth that were cracked and broken. "I am here to deliver a message and nothing more." He reached out a meaty hand and offered the roll of parchment clutched between thick fingers.

"Forgive and forget," itreadin flowing cursive. "Moving forward can have its own rewards."

"What…?" But when she looked up, the troll was gone.

There was an approaching clamor and the woman shook off her confusion, focusing her attention on the platoon of soldiers that were filing into the narrow corridor. She crumpled up the cryptic message and was about to toss it over her shoulder, when something made her stop and slip it into her sleeve instead.

"It's time," one informed her through the visor of his helmet. "Queen Ashe has decided your fate. Come with us."

The white-haired warrior stumbled away from the door, baring her teeth and balling her hands into fists. She would not go without a fight.

…Throne room…

"M-My Lady?"

Ashe looked up from the map spread out on the desk before her, a quill in her hand. "What is it?"

"The p-prisoner… She's badly injured three men—unarmed—while they escorted her from the dungeons. She's so… I've never seen such… S-should we shut her down?"

Ashe sighed and closed her eyes. She hated discord. Couldn't the Freljord put away their stubborn prides long enough to work with one another? "No." She reopened viridian orbs and stood. "Bring her to me. It's time I settled this petty feud."

As her servant bowed and exited the room, a new voice said, "A wise decision. After all, 'Hell hath no fury…'"

"Who goes there?" Ashe demanded, whirling, her bow solidifying in her hands from the vaporous state it was usually in when she didn't need it.

"A simple messenger, no cause for alarm," was the smooth response.

Still, she knocked an arrow—which, unlike the bow, were made from average wood and iron—and drew the bow string back fluidly, her eyes trained on the troll that had somehow found his way past her security measures. There was a crackling sound as the projectile became coated in a shimmering layer of ice. He towered over her, the hands that he held up in surrender easily the size of her head. "How did you get in here?"

"A true performer never gives away his tricks. Here." He offered a roll of parchment, bound by a dark blue ribbon and she reached out cautiously to receive it.

"Duty comes with a price that may or may not be worth paying," it read in a faint, sloppy hand. "Selfishness is not a punishable crime."

'What…?' But in the time it had taken her to look down and read the message, the intruder had disappeared without a trace.

She didn't have time to ponder the words or the strangeness of their messenger for Sejuani was entering the throne room sandwiched between two armed guards, her hands wisely shackled together at the wrists with iron. There was blood on them and Ashe grimaced distastefully.

The blonde folded up the message she had received and stuck it into the sash around her waist, gesturing for the guards to vacate the room. They hesitated for a moment, glancing to one another, before bowing and doing as they were told, leaving the Freljord Princess alone with the largest threat to both her throne and her life.

Sejuani seemed surprised as well, her sinewy frame tensed and prepared for whatever unpleasant thing her captor had in store for her.

"At ease." Ashe crossed the room, her boots echoing sharply all around its spacious interior. Her bow dissolved into shimmering droplets and she unstrapped her quiver, resting it at the foot of her throne. She saw icy blue eyes narrow as the cunning mind behind them processed this change of events. They would be on even ground now. "No harm will befall you so long as you are a guest here."

"Tch. You have a strange way of treating your guests," the board rider grunted, holding up her bound hands.

"I… Yes, of course." The archer rested a hand on the cuffs and they sprung apart, much to the white-haired warrior's surprise. She stood still for a full moment, part of her wondering if the stress of leadership had finally gotten to the weakling princess. The other part…

Ashe went sailing backwards, landing on her back with a quiet "Oomph" as Sejuani's fist lashed out and struck her square in the jaw. It hurt quite a lot, but she didn't reveal that fact as she sat up slowly and rubbed her chin. "I deserved that."

"You did," Sejuani agreed, the air around her stirring and growing colder. She was known as "The Winter's Wrath"—an accurate assessment, Ashe noted as the bitter, biting wind rolled past her. "And so much more."

The blonde chuckled quietly, as measured as ever. If she was afraid, there would be no way of seeing the emotion beyond that pleasant porcelain mask she wore—the very same mask she had acquired the day she had been crowned the queen of her people. Sejuani had always hated that about her. Emotions were meant to be exhibited, damning the consequences, not caged away like a bird.

"We can unite the Freljord as we had planned, Sejuani. It's not too late."

"'Not too late'?" the princess of The Winter's Claw echoed, incredulous. "I believe King Tryndamere would disagree with that sentiment."

"We haven't married. His word is not law here."

"But you chose him, didn't you? You chose him over me."

Those words, said in such a flat tone, void of any emotion, hurt more than her blow had.

"I did what was best for the Freljord," Ashe responded, voice almost a whisper.

Sejuani scoffed, coming to stand over her adversary. "And what of you, Ashe? What do you want?"

"I… do not know."

With the boar rider so close to her, the blonde could see sleek muscle tremble with fury under pale flesh. The warrior loosed a war cry and the wind outside howled with her as she lifted Ashe by the front of her clothing and hefted her across the room to crash into the single elaborate throne that sat on a platform at the point furthest from the door; the lithe woman slumped into a seated position, no sign of defiance in her posture, no attempt to defend herself.

Ever the keeper of the peace.

It only made the warrior's rage grow and the heavy clouds outside burst into a flurry of ice thick enough to obscure vision out of every window in the fortress. The wind howled again, so strong that it made the spell safeguarding every window flux a bit, allowing the elements to seep inside. It quieted a bit as Sejuani spoke tersely, "There once were three princesses who coexisted without any ill intent. When one princess disappeared into the solitude of ancient ruins, much preferring the company of archaic tomes to that of living beings, the other two were left to decide the fate of their people—the Freljord. Do you remember?"

She didn't look up. "Yes…"

"The princesses intended to rule together. As sisters bound not by blood but by honor. Their plan was a well-kept secret for they knew their people needed hope and they were waiting for the perfect time to unveil it. When the time arrived—a festival thrown to celebrate a prosperous harvest—one princess began to have her doubts. It just so happened that a tribe of barbarians lead by The Barbarian King, Tryndamere, had been ransacking villages on the tundra and he had set his sights on this particular village. The invaders quickly proved much stronger than the weak farmers and destruction was imminent. But then the princess who ruled the tribe believed in tactful, peaceful negotiation. So negotiations began."

"Sej—"

"When the other princess returned, everything had suddenly changed," the white-haired woman continued, louder. "It would not be the princesses' reign but one of a king and a queen. Long laid plans were abandoned, promises broken. She had been cast aside by someone she had actually grown to trust."

"You ran off…"

"I had to leave that place."

"You could have stayed. There is no limit to the number of rulers—"

"With my rage comes the storm. Seeing him here..." 'With you.'

"It was never like that before. I remember… You seemed happy. We were—"

"You changed, Ashe," Sejuani interrupted again, crossing her arms over her metal breastplate. "The moment you were crowned, you became a figurehead for your people, uncertain of your own thoughts and desires, incapable of making decisions that did not revolve around the good of others. Your convictions fold as easily as the knees of a newborn calf, the ideals that you once held reduced to an unfulfilled dream by the duty that weighs so heavily on your shoulders. Even now you struggle."

Viridian orbs lifted to meet ice-blue ones. There was no defiance but a poignant mixture of pain and anger. "Enough."

When Sejuani had left all those years ago, Ashe had felt both sorrow… And relief. The perceptive warrior had an uncanny talent for seeing right through the rival princess—a habit that made Ashe's loss of her own identity that much more painful. Without her around, a weight had been lifted from the Avarosan's shoulders even as her sense of duty weighed heavily on her very soul. Hearing those words now… Her heart throbbed painfully and she lifted a hand to her breast.

Despite her temper and her propensity for violence, the boar rider had always been better suited to become queen of the Freljord and Ashe knew that. They had both been so young when leadership had been thrust upon them—Ashe 16 and Sejuani 17— but the woman had always had a good head on her shoulders, standing steadfast by her convictions even if she had to fight tooth and nail to protect them. Unlike Ashe, she would have been strong enough to balance both the needs of her tribe and her own desires instead of becoming a puppet of the people as the archer had.

But what could she do? Her dream could only be realized if she sacrificed herself to become the ideal leader—the one who would save the Freljord from themselves.

"You're a fool," Sejuani spat, once again seeing right through the younger woman. "You fear living your own life so you devote it to your people."

"Is that so wrong?" Ashe inquired.

Apparently it was. The warrior clenched her fists and, this time, the entire building groaned as the elements battered it. "We were so close," she mumbled. "Why…"

"Your Highness!" a guard called from outside. "The snow has piled up to the point that we'll be unable to leave the castle very soon. We should evacuate and seek shelter in a better positioned stronghold!"

"You'll kill us all if you do not control your temper."

"I do not fear death." There was the ominous sound of two boulders sliding past one another and a muffled scream. "It was you who brought me here. You are at fault."

"I just wanted…" she trailed off, not sure exactly what she had wanted.

"Your Highness!" a second guard called, knocking urgently. "Please!"

"Evacuate the others," Ashe commanded, raising her voice. "Leave me."

"But—"

"That was an order."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

There were hurried footsteps as he left and the Frost Archer's sharp ears caught the sound of her soldiers' dissent.

'Wonderful…' She turned her attention back to her guest and rose, wincing slightly as her shoulder and jaw throbbed painfully. The warrior was incredibly strong. Sejuani tensed, likely expecting a counter-attack, but the blonde merely approached her—

"I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I am truly sorry. I did not think that you cared so much for me."

—and wrapped her arms around the boar rider's waist, enveloping her in a comforting hug.

The audacity. A hundred different responses flashed through Sejuani's mind, the top one being to punch the Freljord monarch again and again until she had stopped breathing then snow in the castle with her building rage. But she could only choke out an unconvincing, "I care not for you, princess."

Though she knew the title was meant to be mocking, Ashe smiled slightly. "You used to call me that. And you always wore that smile that you only ever gave me."

She felt the warrior's body go rigid and knew that she had struck a nerve. "Please be honest with me, Sejuani. The betrayal you spoke of… You thought that it would be just you and I—side by side. King Tryndamere became a perceived rival for my affections."

'"Perceived"?' That meant… Hope bloomed in the boar rider's chest and she felt simultaneously happy and angry. She spun, a mighty shove pinning the blonde to the solid oak door. "Do not pretend to understand me."

"So I am wrong?"

She couldn't lie. Not to Ashe. "You don't love him?"

"No."

At this range, the archer could see that her eyes swirled with the energy of the icy winds that wailed outside of the castle's walls as she glared down at her adversary. "You… Knew."

"Not until you left… But by then it was too late."

"Far too late." The fists planted firmly on either side of Ashe's head trembled and the blonde had to wonder for a moment if she was going to be struck again. "I do not know how these… Feelings came to be."

"I'm sorry… I should have realized. You were so kind and gentle—if only for a little while—and that made me very happy. I care for you as well."

"You make me weak," Sejuani spat, looking away. Her heart was thumping way too loudly in her ears. "I hate you for it."

"There is no weakness in caring for another." When she received only an impatient growl, she tilted her head, attempting to recapture that intense gaze. "I have missed you. The castle is too large without your unconquerable spirit." Still no response; her eyes remained averted. "Would you please consider staying here—with me?"

This time The Winter's Wrath looked up, eyes wide. The gale outside had died down to a faint keening. "What?"

"That is what I want, Sejuani," Ashe said firmly, realizing the truth of her words as they left her lips. That had always been what she had wanted, but the moment the boar rider had become her adversary, it was a desire that she had buried deep down. Being near the fierce white-haired woman aroused emotions that she had long since forgotten. "Let us rule the Freljord… together."

Sejuani leaned in and rested her forehead against Ashe's, drawing in a deep breath. "I have wanted to hear those words for a long time."

They were so close she could make out each long eyelash framing those incredibly blue eyes and the archer's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes flicked down to lips pink from the cold, the bottom one plump and inviting. There was suddenly something else she wanted.

"Queen Ashe, the storm has begun to die down! We can remain here!"

For some reason, she wished it hadn't.

"Enemies becoming friends? It's like something out of a blasted fairy tale."

A week had passed since the reconciliation of the princesses and Sejuani's comings and goings were causing quite a stir among the village inhabitants. Ashe had decided to change bases, packing up everything and moving to a stronghold more centrally located on the peninsula—"coincidentally" closer to The Ursine Village where Volibear, the Winter's Wrath's right hand, had his strongest influence. The great bear had visited with his leader on several occasions and his well-mannered, insightful ways had earned him the respect of the Avarosan despite his belief that war was the proper way to achieve peace amongst the Freljord.

Anivia preened her right wing with her beak. "They were good friends long ago—before you joined into an allegiance with her Highness."

"This is the first I've heard of it. What changed?"

"I… Am not sure. Things just seemed to grow sour and the queen would not speak of it."

Tryndamere scoffed. "My Ashe is too good for her. I don't know why she humors that wretch."

"It is in Ashe's nature to be kind to everyone. And to Sejuani in particular," the Cryophoenix said knowingly.

He didn't like her tone. The man sauntered down the stairs and into the courtyard, that huge two-hander of his resting across his broad shoulders. "Oi! Pig woman!"

She didn't even acknowledge him, hefting the heavy pile of furs she had been carrying onto a cart already laden with foodstuffs to send to another camp located on the Avarosan Iceflow Glacier. A bartering system had been set up between the Avarosan and the Winter's Claw and, though the boar rider didn't like the idea of relying on others, it was nice to have a steadier food supply than the spoils gained from hunting on the barren tundra—especially since much of her army were giant Ursine with endless appetites.

"Just because Ashe is keeping you here as some kind of pet doesn't mean you can get away with being rude to the king." He saw her shoulders tense and grinned. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Tell me, My Lord, have you proposed to the Queen? Are you to be wed?"

A crowd was gathering, drawn in by the commotion.

He faltered. "Why does that—"

"Until you are married to Queen Ashe, you are not "the king." Your puny authority is recognized only by the drunken rabble you've rallied with the promise of women and riches."

"You really don't want to get on my bad side, woman." The red aura of Fury enveloped him again and he brandished his weapon in his right hand, pointing it straight at Sejuani. "I've bested entire tribes across the tundra and I can easily cut you down."

"Come, then. Show me your worth, little man."

"King Tryndamere! Sejuani!" the Queen chastised, coming to stand on the balcony just outside of her room to see what was causing such a stir among her people. Somehow, she wasn't surprised to find the two most stubborn Champions with several miles butting heads again.

"Stay out of this, Ashe," the man barked.

"I can handle this, Ashe," Sejuani said coolly at the same time.

The two faced off and the crowd began to murmur amongst themselves. Fighting wasn't something that happened often within the ranks of the Avarosan, so this spectacle was one of great interest.

Tryndamere's Spinning Slash brought him lunging towards Sejuani, a dangerous hurricane of sharp steel, and she dove past him, rolling a short distance and landing in a handstand from which she tossed another frost-forged bola. This time, only the left side of his body was encased in ice and he growled menacingly. "Is that the best you can do?"

"No." The warrior pushed off, whistling sharply as she flipped upwards. As she fell towards the ground, there was a roar and Bristle came barreling around the corner; she landed comfortably in his saddle, squeezing her knees against his sides sharply so that the beast preformed an Artic Assault. The moment those great tusks collided with the trapped Barbarian King, her fist glowed aquamarine and she raised it—

"Permafrost!"

—and slammed it into the pommel of Bristle's saddle.

Instantly, the frost layered upon the burly man shattered like glass, particles of sleet drifting lazily in all directions as he fell to the ground, out cold.

There was a stunned silence and Ashe covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smile as the Winter's Wrath nonchalantly guided her boar through the crowd of people and back towards the stable—but not before she cast a lingering glance up to where the archer stood.

Sejuani's renown was only growing.

It felt as though every damned Avarosan had seen her best Tryndamere in battle and was now in awe of her. Their habit of stopping and staring—or worse: commending her on her prowess—was grating on her nerves and the winds whipped fiercely to reflect that irritation.

She didn't care if Ashe's people liked or even accepted her. The only person's opinion that mattered within the walls of the tiny village was that of their monarch.

"Are they still "troubling" you?" the aforementioned blonde questioned, a faint smile on her lips. She had grown to like the vexed little frown the warrior wore when she was exasperated—it was… cute.

She realized that she had made that comment aloud for Sejuani scowled all the harder. "I am a Winter's Claw. We are not and cannot be "cute"," she growled.

"As you say."

The Frost Archer seemed to be in high spirits. It was the only reason the boar rider let the comment and her patronizing tone slide. For now. "Where are you taking me?"

"Just a little further."

They were out on the tundra, carefully picking a path through the jagged field of rocks jutting from the mountainside. It was rumored that Anivia had called this mountain range home once upon a time.

"We're far from shelter and the storms start without warning," the white-haired warrior said, eyes roaming warily. She knew the Freljord monarch hadn't spent nearly as much time out here among the elements as she had and was therefore unaware of just how fickle they could be.

"It will only take a moment."

Finally, they came to her intended destination: a small pool into which a waterfall cascaded, tucked away near the top of the mountain. It was much colder at this altitude and Ashe actually shivered. "There, see?"

"What exactly am I to see?"

"Fish." She sounded excited and for good reason—the ocean was far too unpredictable to hazard a fishing expedition.

Still, the boar rider gave her a flat look. "This is the reason we went so far?"

"Tonight, there will be a feast in honor of the two princesses working together as one. I wanted the meal to be a special one."

Oh. That was actually quite thoughtful. She felt… It was almost like honored, but not quite. Whatever it was, the feeling set off a fluttering sensation in her stomach and she had to worry if she was getting ill. Before she could reply, however, the wind moaned and the Winter's Wrath's senses went haywire.

A storm was approaching. She had been so distracted before by Ashe's coyness that she had somehow missed the little red flags going off. Her head snapped to the right: just over the rise, she could make out a tumultuous cloud of snow and wind hurtling towards them.

They didn't have much time. There was no cover this high up in the mountains.

Ashe swore quietly, her gaze also directed to the coming storm. "That doesn't look good."

"No kidding." The warrior turned away from her companion, pacing like a caged beast as she tried and failed to work out a place where they could seek shelter. This was bad. "You said the bird used to reside here?"

"Y-yes." The blonde monarch sounded shaken for the first time since Sejuani had known her and the white-haired woman was almost floored.

This was no time for surprise. The winds were growing stronger and she had to almost yell to be heard. "Where?"

"I don't know."

She made a frustrated sound, squinting against the flurries that blew by. It was only a hunch, but… The Winter's Wrath grabbed Ashe's hand and made a mad dash for the waterfall, dragging the lithe archer behind her. The water was freezing, though thankfully not very deep, and she grit her teeth, forcing her legs to cooperate even as they became numb.

Even as the tempest blasted into their backs, sending the Freljord women tumbling forward and through the thick curtain of water, into the mouth of the hidden grotto that lay behind it.

Sejuani yanked Ashe into her larger frame, curling up so that she was shielding the younger woman as they tumbled through darkness. They came to a halt only when the warrior slammed into something solid and she hissed as pain shot down her spine and her vision went fuzzy at the edges.

The archer was the first on her feet, completely unharmed, and she quickly began to feel her way along the wall for a way to open the barrier—an iron door, they would later realize—that barred them from the inner reaches of the cavern and safety. She found a lever and yanked it downwards then stumbled back to Sejuani, taking her hand again and leading her into…

A room…?

The door slammed shut behind them, locking out the raging elements. It was in fact a room, warmed by a small fire in a pit gouged out of the rock that was clearly of magical origins. There was what appeared to be a nest in one corner made of branches and an ornate cabinet full of books and unmarked bottles full of brightly coloured liquids in the other. The stone floor was lined with soft pelts.

"Quick thinking," Ashe gasped, relief in her tone as her shaky legs gave out and she fell onto her rump.

Sejuani teetered, but managed to remain on her feet, leaning back against the door. "Yeah."

It was then that the blonde realized that her companion was clutching her side, expression carefully blank. "You're injured!"

"I'm fine."

"Stop being stubborn," the archer said sharply. She was on her feet again in an instant, slinging the warrior's arm across her shoulders and guiding her across the small room, closer to the fire. She carefully eased the boar rider into a seated position and began to prod at her side. "Where hurts?"

"Back," Sejuani grunted through gritted teeth.

There was a large dent in the back of her armor from the impact earlier. It would be easier to see the extent of the damage if the woman removed her breastplate… But somehow the thought of asking her to do so made the blonde's cheeks heat.

"Um…"

"What is it?"

"It would be easier… I could better treat your wounds if I could see the extent of the damage."

The boar rider scowled, but slid her shoulder plates off, tossing them aside, then proceeded to unbuckle her breast plate, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor with a dull 'thud'. Under it she wore only bandages to bind her breasts; the cloth near her back was already turning pink with blood and Ashe swore quietly again. At least she wasn't bleeding heavily. "There must be a Health Potion around here somewhere…"

As she rose to search the cluttered cabinet, she heard another 'thud' and looked up to see that Sejuani had removed her helmet as well. Without it, she looked less fearsome. More…

'Lovely.' She had forgotten how delicate the woman's features were when they weren't framed by cold, hard metal.

The boar rider dragged her hand through short white hair that just barely reached the nape of her neck, mussing it up a bit, unaware that she was being admired. "Find anything?"

Ashe jumped and quickly resumed her search, locating at last a thick glass bottle of ruby liquid. "Here, this should stop the bleeding."

The Winter's Wrath shivered as she received the consumable and Ashe realized that, unlike her own water-tight leather boots, the fur ones the woman wore had been soaked through. She crouched down to remove them without thought, concerned for her companion's health, only to have her legs kicked out from under her. "Don't touch."

She shouldn't have been surprised—Sejuani was one for actions over words. Still, she had only been trying to help… "Was that necessary?"

"You've done enough," the warrior said flatly, sloughing off the wet hides. She wiggled her toes, burying them in the dry, fluffy pelt below her to warm them.

It was a matter of pride. She should have known. The Winter's Claw was a tribe of intensely independent Champions of which Sejuani was the epitome.

Despite that knowledge, the Avarosan was unable to prevent herself from trying to help. It was just who she was.

"I know that's your thing," the boar rider said, reading her mind once again. "Even though I disagree with charity I'm… Glad that you're acting more like the Ashe I knew."

"Me too," she agreed. "You're a good influence."

"I am?"

"I feel stronger with you around." Despite the earlier warning, the blonde reached out and placed a hand on Sejuani's arm. "I need you—you're my rock."

Rather than reply, the warrior lifted the Potion to her head and took a draught, her mind turning over what the archer had just admitted. Ashe… Needed her. That made warmth blossom in the woman's chest that had nothing to do with the tingle running down her spine as the Potion made her flesh knit itself back together.

Unconsciously, she rested a hand slightly calloused from the leather of Bristle's reigns and the hilt of her flail over Ashe's and their eyes met, viridian to electric blue.

"Selfishness is not a punishable crime," a little voice in the back of the blonde's mind whispered and courage filled her. That was true. There was something she wanted very badly at this exact moment—a desire that would satisfy her and her alone. And that was okay. Reaching out and taking what she wanted was okay.

That was the reasoning she used to justify leaning forward and kissing Sejuani. Just once. A quick, light peck that may have lingered a second longer than it should have. No harm done.

When she pulled away, the warrior's eyes were wide, her lips parted slightly as a gasp escaped her. "Why…"

"Sorry." That had been stupid. That burst of courage faded and she wished a Summoner would call her to the Rift so that she wouldn't have to be here in this moment. "Ah… I shouldn't have done that."

"No." Sejuani buried her hands in platinum locks and pulled Ashe back in, sealing their lips together. Behind the contact, the archer could feel raw power barely contained and she moaned quietly, encouraging a deft tongue to push past her lips and ravage her oral cavern. They kissed for what felt like forever and, when they parted, Ashe found herself on her back with Sejuani straddling her body.

She didn't remember moving, but the heat that flushed through her had nothing to do with the fire.

"That was a proper kiss," Sejuani husked. "And years overdue."

The blonde nodded in agreement, biting her lip as she squirmed under the warm weight of the boar rider's body. "Again."

"Is that what you want?" She nibbled the archer's bottom lip.

"I want more." The Frost Archer's viridian gaze was unwavering. "I want everything you have to give me." She didn't know where the words or even the carnal desire that fueled them were coming from. All she knew was that she meant what she had said with her entire being. Though she was a stranger to such ardor, she recognized it for what it was: lust.

A surge of primal energy made the princess of the Winter's Claw close her eyes and exhale slowly in an attempt to gain some semblance of control over her emotions before she lost it completely. Bloodlust and lust for the body weren't so different, it seemed, for her heart pounded and her mind narrowed down to focus on her objective just as they did in combat.

"Be careful what you ask for, Princess," she purred, voice silken. "You may not be able to handle it."

Ashe cocked an eyebrow and was about to ask what the older woman was implying, but her thoughts were wiped clean as strong hands slipped into the low-cut top of her ensemble to cup full breasts, kneading them roughly. The white-haired warrior nipped and bit her way down the column of Ashe's throat with bruising force, her lips parting to apply suction and mark her territory; the delightful abuse sent electric pleasure arcing from nerve cell to nerve cell, rendering pale skin flushed and hypersensitive.

She rolled taut nipples between her fingers as the blonde moaned and arched, moving lower to drag her tongue over delicate collarbones. When she tugged impatiently at the archer's outfit, eyebrows drawing together with displeasure, Ashe smiled and pulled her in for an affectionate kiss. "There's a zipper on the back," she mumbled against the other woman's lips.

Sejuani straightened, pulling Ashe into a sitting position and reaching around her back, sliding the zipper down and quickly stripping her of every scrap of clothing she possessed.

"Um…" Ashe cleared her throat, not sure what to make of the piercing stare she was receiving. When those electric blue orbs raked down her frame, it was like a physical touch and she had shivered, heat pooling between her thighs. "Sej…" she husked.

For her part, the warrior was lost in the pale dips and swells that put the Freljord mountain ranges to shame. The turgid nipples she had been toying with were a pale pink, standing at attention so sweetly that they practically begged to be taken into her mouth. Warm, milky thighs parted slightly to reveal platinum curls that sheltered feminine lips slightly swollen with arousal and Sejuani bit her lip, eyes heavy lidded.

That smooth, enticing tone kick-started her faltering mind, triggering a flurry of motion: those rough hands grabbed her rear and pulled her in close, kneading full cheeks and forcibly spreading her open, a muscled thigh coming up to press against the junction of the Frost Archer's legs to create delightful friction against her private flesh. She moaned, head falling back as her hips pumped instinctively, riding the white-haired woman's thigh.

She whined as the boar rider grabbed a handful of platinum blonde locks and yanked her closer, claiming her lips again. This time, there was no repression of that ferocious lust. The kiss left Ashe's lips bruised—one particularly hard nip actually broke the skin and she tasted copper—and her head whirling from the heady rush of desire that flooded her.

Gentleness wasn't in Sejuani's nature and, somehow, Ashe was just fine with that.

By the time Sejuani had her on her back again, her body ached deliciously from the bite marks and scratches that marred otherwise perfect porcelain skin, her inner muscles were clenching eagerly in search of something more than simple friction, and she leaned in, whispering, "More… Please?" into the boar rider's ear.

The blonde was unprepared for the way her thighs were shoved apart, deft fingers shoving unceremoniously into her depths; unprepared for the acute surge of pain as the first thrust broke her hymen. She hissed, wincing and she heard Sejuani release a string of obscenities.

Ashe… Was a virgin? The woman's nostrils flared, her above-average sense of smell picking up the scent of freshly spilled blood and she recoiled, pulling her fingers from warm wetness. When Ashe winced again at the motion and the twinges of discomfort it brought, the warrior rose and quickly made to exit the room.

"Sejuani…?" There was no maliciousness in her tone, just curiosity and a touch of apprehension. As though she didn't want the boar rider to leave.

"Waterfall," she managed around the ugly feelings bubbling in her chest.

Beyond the metal door, the storm had died down to a faint howl beyond the sheet of water. They would be able to return to the village come morning—somehow, the thought was a disparaging one. The white-haired warrior reached out, watching and not really seeing the water wash the red from her fingertips.

This was the first time she had felt remorse upon seeing blood on her hands.

The princess of the Winter's Claw didn't have a gentle bone in her body—even Bristle, her oldest companion, had never received a kind word or a tender pat on the head. And her treatment of other people was no better. But Ashe… Ashe was different. The mere thought of harming the blonde archer was enough to make Sejuani feel sick to her stomach.

Upon actually harming the compassionate leader of the Avarosan, she desperately wanted to throw herself off the side of the mountain.

The though made her grimace mightily—what the hell was wrong with her? Clearly spending so much time with the Avarosan was making her complacent.

Weak.

That weakness intensified when she heard a quiet, "Is everything okay?" from behind her. Just turning to look at the younger woman standing naked in the doorway made that remorse and guilt (among other feelings) push incessantly at her vocal chords, but she refused to apologize. The Winter's Wrath didn't apologize for anything.

Instead, her gaze roamed down that perfect hourglass form to where red stained Ashe's inner thigh. "I should clean that up."

The archer scoffed. "You aren't finished, are you?"

Electric blue eyes widened and, for a moment, Sejuani wasn't sure if she had heard correctly. "I—"

"Come back inside," the blonde continued with an alluring little smirk at the double entendre. "I can handle it."

Who in their right mind would disobey such a command from the queen?

She reentered the room and kneeled between her queen's thighs, but hesitated. "You're a virgin."

"I was." There was amusement in her tone. "I was saving myself for someone special."

"Then… Why me?"

She had never heard that small voice from the normally confident boar rider. Ashe reached out and cupped the warrior's cheek, saying gently, "You're special to me, Sejuani. I care about you—I always have. One might even call it love."

'Love…'—even thinking the word felt strange. Strange and wonderful.

"I-I don't know what to say…"

"Show me." The blonde took her hand, guiding it between her legs. "Go slowly. I'm not going anywhere."

Somehow, Sejuani knew the archer wasn't referring to this very moment alone and she leaned forward, pouring her appreciation into a slow, passionate kiss; she slid her index finger into Ashe at the same time, teasing shallowly, and took advantage of the happy little gasp the archer gave to conquer the woman's mouth with long, drugging strokes of her tongue.

The blonde moaned throatily, hips bucking in time with the steady pace of Sejuani's thrusts. When a second digit was added, Ashe's moans became that much louder, her inner muscles clamping down on the intruder as white hot pleasure overwhelmed her senses.

She could feel herself speeding towards the edge of the abyss and what lay over the brink almost scared her with its intensity. Pleasure coiled in her loins with every motion of deft fingers, little tremors running through her muscles as they uselessly sought a way to keep her body grounded against the coming onslaught. Multi-coloured lights danced behind closed eyelids as the blonde gave one final breathy scream; orgasm hit with a mind-numbing wave of ecstasy and the Winter's Wrath swallowed the decadent moans her partner released, doing her best to ease the archer down from her high with long, slow thrusts of her fingers.

When at last Ashe's muscles went lax, she grinned up at the boar rider. "That was… Wow." Both were startled out of the moment by the flash of brilliance overhead, after which the warrior flinched as something solid and slim struck the top of her head: the frost-enchanted bow. The Freljord monarch actually blushed. She reached out to grasp the weapon and it dissolved back into vapor. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that would happen."

"It's no problem." The boar rider lifted her hand to her lips and cleaned her fingers with her tongue, "You should get some rest anyway. We head back in the morning or the bird will have your head."

Anivia had probably laid an egg upon finding that the queen was still missing from her castle.

"What about—"

"I'm fine," was the curt response. The white-haired woman settled down on the furs, pillowing her head on crossed arms. "Go to sleep."

This gruffness was something Ashe was accustomed to—it usually followed a moment of what the princess of the Winter's Claw called "weakness."

The blonde snuggled into Sejuani's side, tracing her fingertips down the woman's toned abdomen, towards that metal skirt—

"Ashe." But her voice hitched and the Avarosan smiled, pressing a kiss to a strong shoulder.

"Mm?"

"I told you to go to sleep."

"But I'm the queen." She pouted prettily and the boar rider groaned.

"You are."

"So I get to have the final say."

"Tch."

"And I say…" Ashe threw her leg over Sejuani's midsection, straddling her. This was the first time the older woman had ever been on bottom… And she rather liked having the blonde lord over her. "I want you."

"Oh?" the warrior asked, finally giving in and playing the younger woman's game. "And what do you want to do with me?"

Just then, the fire flickered and dimmed, but neither woman gave it any thought, too caught up in their own little world. When Sejuani caught sight of slight movement out of the corner of her eye she tensed, but it was too late.

A gigantic icy hand was gliding towards them, reaching out of the ground with clawed fingertips. It stopped just short of the pair and dissipated into fragments of frost to reveal a statuesque woman armored in black ice. The visor of her helmet was wide like a hammerhead's snout, glistening with magical energies.

Lissandra, the Ice Witch.

"Hello, girls," the woman said, voice a chilling purr. "I'm rather insulted that I was not invited to join the fun. After all, am I not a princess as well?"

Before either could even think to react, the floor became caked with a thick layer of black ice that shattered, the sharp edges coming up to hold them in place. Before the Ring of Frost faded, Lissandra raised a glowing hand and a Frozen Tomb enveloped both Champions in a prison of dark ice; a yawning pit of darkness opened underneath them moments after to swallow them whole.

Sejuani groaned, opening her eyes to pure darkness. For a moment, she was puzzled—why couldn't she move?

Clarity rushed back to her and she jerked forward, but soon found that there were constraints around her wrists, keeping her suspended in mid-air.

Ashe… Where was Ashe?

There was a soft exhale to her right and relief made her shoulders sag. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Where are we?"

"I don't know."

Torches flared to life all around the perimeter of the room, illuminating the round stone walls and metal fixtures.

And the fact that they were in the same state of undress they had been before being captured.

The thing that caught their attention, however, was the brawny, blue-skinned troll standing behind a high-backed throne a few feet in away from them. Trundle, the Troll King. He smirked, crossing long arms over his broad chest and dragging his eyes up and down the length of his prisoners' bodies.

Ashe went crimson.

"Welcome, your highnesses, to the lair of the true queen of the Freljord. Tonight, you are her honored guests." He crossed the room to pull a lever on the wall and the chains encircling the wrists and ankles both captives pulled apart, spreading their limbs. "Please, enjoy your stay."

As he exited the room, there was a sudden chill and the torches flickered weakly to announce the arrival of their hostess. She had removed the shell of dark ice that she usually wore to reveal high cheek bones, almond-shaped cobalt orbs, and a cunning smirk curved full lips that were the same pale blue as her skin. Her long white hair, usually caught in an elaborate braid, flowed loosely. Though she wore only a simple robe of dark cloth, the shards of dark ice that normally writhed around her feet were still there, carrying her forward in lieu of walking.

"Why have you brought us here?" Sejuani demanded, scowling furiously as she tried to move and was once again reminded that she was bound.

"I told you, I was offended." The spell-caster glided forward, closer to her prey. "Even after the charms I gave you two to help break the ice, you still snubbed me."

"Charms?"

Lissandra pointed a glowing hand at Sejuani, "Forgive and forget," then at Ashe, "Selfishness is not a punishable crime."

The boar rider swore quietly under her breath—she had forgotten the cryptic message she had gotten from one of the Ice Witch's peons.

The Frost Archer's heart sank. "You mean to tell me that everything that has happened this past week… Has been your doing?"

That chuckle was sinister enough to make the torches flutter weakly again. "No, no. That was all your own doing. I simply set the gears in motion. Those charms allowed you to do what you knew in your heart of hearts was the correct thing to do."

"But why?"

"I grow weary of remaining in the shadows and playing puppet master. Being among my puppets is so much more enjoyable.

Sejuani bristled. "We aren't your puppets."

To which the spell-caster tutted, her hands flashing; the white-haired warrior was slammed against the wall with enough force to knock a lesser Champion unconscious but she only bared her teeth and spat blood onto the floor. "Pain is nothing."

"Oh? I always did like you, Sejuani." Lissandra glided closer, grasping the boar rider's chin in a clawed hand. Her touch was bone-chilling. "Such a proud spirit… I have always wanted to bring you to your knees." Her gaze drifted to Ashe, full of malevolent glee. "Or perhaps I'll corrupt an innocent queenling—finish what you started."

'She wouldn't…' But even as the thought came up, the warrior knew that the third Freljord princess would do whatever she pleased.

"Hmm… Which plaything to shall I use first?"

"Leave Ashe out of this," Sejuani mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"Don't touch her."

"Shall I play with you then, my dear?"

"Sej—Don't!"

"I will play your game as long as you don't harm her."

Lissandra tilted her head. "Such a shrewd businesswoman."

"Do we have a deal?" The Ice Witch's hands glowed again and the ice around her feet roiled, their jagged tips becoming rounded as they stretched out, becoming thin and snakelike. Sejuani heard Ashe yelp: a half a dozen of the tendrils were sliding along her skin, wrapping around her waist and thighs. "Lissandra!"

"No deal." The white-haired witch lowered herself gracefully into her throne. "You will learn your place."

The ice tendrils were cool to the touch, but not unbearably so. Still, Sejuani flinched as one nudged against her thigh, brushing up and under her metal skirt. She bit her lip as it slid inside without resistance—she was still quite wet from before—and swallowed the moan that threatened to leave her as it sheathed itself as deeply as it would go, the Ice Witch's powers allowing her to manipulate the end so that it writhed against the far wall and made the Winter's Wrath see stars.

There was no way she would be able to take much of this before she came. She should have been horrified, but…

Breath coming out in harsh pants, the boar rider struggled against her bonds, inadvertently causing the tendril of enchanted ice to thrust deeper. "No… Ah…!"

… It felt so good.

Ashe wasn't much better off, her lithe body flushed as she moaned around the tendril in her mouth as a response to the one working between her legs.

She wanted to say something—a threat, a comforting promise, anything—but all she could do was moan helplessly, her body a more than willing recipient of the Ice Witch's ministrations, though her mind wasn't.

"Mm… Music to my ears," Lissandra chuckled, teasing her own womanhood with her fingers as she watched with rapt attention.

The boar rider was making the most exquisite faces as her hips moved involuntarily with the intruder and the young queen's full breasts bounced as she was fucked.

At a silent command, several more tendrils of ice stretched out, stripping the former of the bindings that restrained her ample bosom and dropping the metal skirt to the floor with a 'clank' so that Lissandra could see the way her pretty pink lips devoured the tendril. At another, it grew in girth and began to pound into the woman in earnest; Sejuani's head fell back and she gave a hoarse cry as she came and Ashe wasn't very far behind with a low moan of her own.

These new playthings would do just fine.

All was still and white on Valoran's tundra. Then, a giant shadow obscured the sun: Anivia was wheeling through the air, her keen eyes on the lookout for the missing monarch.

Back in the village, there had been a huge debacle over the archer's recent taste in companionship—of which Tryndamere had been the loudest voice—with a huge portion of the Avarosan suggesting that this had been the Winter's Claw's plan all along.

Volibear had been the voice of reason, calling down thunder from the sky to startle the crowd of squabbling farmers back to their senses. His commander would never do such a thing, he had insisted. Honor meant everything to the Winter's Wrath.

That didn't explain where both women had disappeared to.

The Cryophoenix felt a pull deep in her breast and frowned, angling her vast wings so that she soared towards the ground. She knew that feeling—the same corrupt magic that ran through her veins was embodied by the Ice Witch, Lissandra. It called to her, a siren's song that she knew better than to respond to.

But if the dark spell-caster was this close to the village, she had to be up to no good. In fact, she was moving very quickly… Towards the village? Perplexed, the icy bird quickly gave chase.

By the time she had arrived, there was a mob outside of the palace gates, milling around a crystalline carriage drawn by a team of monstrous frost wolves. The driver, a troll with dark blue skin, hopped down from the driver's box and opened the door with a flourish.

Even from her altitude, Anivia could hear the collective gasp from the crowd.

"What the fuck?" Tryndamere boomed.

Lissandra had emerged from the carriage, the unconscious, naked forms of the other two Freljord princesses slung over the broad shoulder pads of her armored suit. She dropped her burden unceremoniously into the snow, tilting her head back to look up at the Cryophoenix. "We meet again, Anivia."

She alighted between Sejuani and Ashe, keeping her wings spread to block their nudity from the onlookers' eyes. "What have you done, Lissandra?"

The witch gave a dark laugh and the wind stirred restlessly. "I will return." Then, she climbed into her carriage and left the confused Avarosan to gather up her playthings. They would question and argue as they tried to sort out what had happened, Lissandra's name would be cursed, and fingers would be pointed as to who was to blame for the entire incident. She knew the hot-headed Barbarian King wouldn't be able to help himself since the honor of his queen (though mostly his own pride) could be called into question.

"Where do you wish to go, mistress?"

"Take me home." A wicked smile curved the woman's lips and she couldn't help but chuckle quietly to herself. She was in a fantastic mood—the chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions she sensed was utterly delicious.

The Ice Witch so loved creating havoc.

-Fin-

I had a lot of fun with one and I hope you did too! Let me know in the box below o3o