League of Legends Series

Tryndamere x Ashe

The grass was wet with dew and Ashe smiled softly checking on the precious flowers growing peacefully in the garden. It was rare for anything to flourish in this frigid weather, but she knew it would not last as winter frost began to settle slowly, the Freljord was unforgiving. She came to the garden often to look at the flowers, the only ones she had ever known in her life were the crystal blossoms the craftsmen of the Avarosan tribe had gifted her. They were beautifully carved, but there was a certain charm that they lacked; they did not grow, did not wither, and so fragile, they resided in a padded vase, only to be looked upon with a longing gaze.

"So this is where you were?" A rough voice spoke, and the young woman glanced up at the barbarian, her gaze cold and diligent.

"How many times have I told you, don't step on the flowers, you brutish man." Tryndamere's lips twitched upwards unable to hide his amused grin as the woman scolded him.

"They're just flowers, they'll die eventually," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, and Ashe parted her lips to speak but quickly closed them letting out a deep sigh, glancing back to the flowers.

"You'll die too eventually, would you rather die sooner than later?" She asked. The barbarian nodded understanding her point now, but the difference between him and a flower was that he would kill any and all things that came his way until he either came out on top or perished.

"And you?" he asked knowing he had avoided her question.

"I have a duty to uphold, I can't die yet," she whispered her knuckles gently caressing the petals. The barbarian knelt beside her and plucked a flower.

"Flowers eventually wither, but they regrow, nature is not so easily conquered, we humans, however, are different. There is only one you, and if you die, someone like you will never come again," he whispered crushing the flower in his hand.

"There are plenty of men and women who can replace me, I'm not special," she hummed rising to her feet, deciding to ignore the flower her future husband had butchered. Tryn said nothing watching the woman walk away, she had missed the point of his little spiel, but perhaps she did not want to hear it either.

"Wait," he called out, watching her stiffen as she glanced over her shoulder. "Are you saying that anyone could just marry me then?" The soon to be queen rolled her eyes and went on her way, keeping her lips shut. Tryndamere rose to his feet catching up to her, his hand firmly gripping her wrist as he spun her around. "Answer."

Ashe slapped his hand away staring him down. "This is an arranged marriage, not a lover's dilemma," she mumbled. "It holds no special meaning, except for the political effect it will have on my people, I never wanted to get married," the archer finally admitted quietly turning her back on the barbarian. This time Tryndamere did not stop her looking down at the hand she had slapped away, he knew she had a point, it was rare for love to keep couples together if he could even call this love. He had been the one to propose, not out of love, but rather a necessity. 

He would have agreed with the archer had he not felt differently, but he had slept with countless women before, drowning himself in lust, and this was different. He had prided himself to be a man who cared not what others thought of him, but as much as he tried to deny it, he cared. He cared what the cold woman saw him as, just another suitor, or perhaps just a barbarian. He clenched his hand into a fist and sighed, but the archer was right, duty came first.

Ashe sighed as she entered her chambers, feeling more than a little upset over what she said. She had wholly disregarded his feeling calling their marriage a bluff — no special meaning. Those words echoed in her mind, and she groaned, but at least she had been honest with him, she never wanted to get married. She didn't want to become a queen, but it would soon become one of her many responsibilities. She picked up the bottle of wine resting on the table and sighed sitting down, pouring herself a glass.