Atop her drüvask boar, the fearless warmother swung her flail at the hulking troll, their weapons meeting amidst the sharp descent of ice. Their weapons proved ineffective as they clashed, every hit merely seeping strength out of both warriors. Trundle would have breezed through an opponent her size, but the woman was sturdy despite her human figure. Her strength rivaled the best warriors who had ever made the mistake of stepping foot on his tundra. She neither faltered to his blows nor the rampaging blizzard around them.
The troll swung fiercely, hoping to knock the Warmother off her boar, but Boneshiver was rendered ineffective against the True Ice. Trundle cursed the Iceborns with all his might, as little as that would do. He glanced to his left where a man stood, waiting patiently, observing. The troll frowned; how could a man possibly be half-naked in the middle of a blizzard.
Tryndamere's eyes wandered back and forth across the two dueling parties. He would not make the mistake of jumping in foolishly; the two were thirsting for each other's blood, and being made a common enemy was not his plan. Whether the troll or the woman won, he would be challenging the victor. He adjusted his helmet, letting out a puff of white air, glancing up at the gray sky. The snowflakes grew thicker by the minute, and he wouldn't deny that it was a bit chilly.
Although on closer inspection, the fight didn't seem to be taking a turn for the better as the two couldn't manage to land a single blow on the other. Tryndamere wasn't exactly known for his patience. Taking them on at once would prove to be a good challenge, and if he could not overcome it, he did not deserve to live. The two dueling forces momentarily tore their eyes away from one another, staring at the daring man who had drawn his sword. Taking the distraction to his advantage, the troll swung his club, not at the Warmother, but instead her boar. The creature let out a sharp cry and slid against the ice, soon losing its balance.
Sejuani gasped and dismounted her boar before it could crush her. She ran to him, pressing a hand to his muzzle, but the boar squealed and pushed her away, back towards the battle. Trundle rushed at her, his fist slamming into the ice to gain momentum. The Warmother let out a fierce battle cry, swinging her flail through the air and blocking the troll's attack. Unforunately, her flail wrapped around Trundle's club, and with her boar no longer acting as her anchor, the troll sent her soaring into the air.
Sejuani stared at the ground bracing herself for the fall. She landed roughly, her feet sliding against the ice, but lost her balance along the way. She gasped, managing to roll onto her side before Tryndamere's sword impaled her. The woman glared at him, twisting her body and kicking him away. Tryndamere switched targets, his blade digging into Trundle's rotten flesh, but it would take more than one hit to cut through his thick skin. Sej hurried to her feet, running towards the troll while he was busy with the barbarian.
At the last second, the troll turned his attention to the Warmother, but she dropped down, sliding between his legs to retrieve her flail. Sejuani shifted her body and got to her knees, wrapping her flail around the troll's ankle. She pulled with all her might, and her boar let out an ear-piercing squeal, ramming into Trundle and taking out his legs. Before falling, the troll swung his club, hitting the barbarian square in the chest, sending him airborne before he hit the ground hard, skidding along the ice's surface.
The ice cracked beneath the troll, and the boar backed up slowly, not wanting to inflict any more damage, but Trundle laughed. And with a brutal swing, his club hit the ice shattering the surface and sending the Warmother and her boar into the frigid water alongside him.
Once underwater, Trundle reached for the girl, but the drüvask was determined to keep the troll at bay. He growled, his movement hindered by the body of water. The boar would give him too much trouble, and he couldn't remain under the water forever. So, he swam away, punching a hole through the ice before making a run for it. He would remember this day until revenge was firmly in his icy grip.
Bristle swam underneath Sejuani, clenching her flail between his teeth, her body settling on his back as he made for the surface. He threw her flail on the ice and whined, trying his best to get over the layers of ice, but could not manage to lift his weight with the water dragging him down. Bristle's hooves slipped, and he was sent thrashing back into the icy depths. He tossed Sejauni back into the water, biting down on the back of her fur armor as he hoisted her above the ice. The barbarian sighed, staring at the woman and her trusty companion. When he stepped forward, the boar growled at him, even though it was in no position to defend its mistress.
To him, though, there was no glory in reaping a free kill; it would hardly be a challenge. Tryndamere clutched his chest, wincing at the expanding red mark. That's what he got for letting a troll hit him with a club of True Ice. Not his best decision, but he would get over it, hopefully.
He was confident the woman before him would have fought until her last breath. Tryn kneeled beside Sejauni, pressing two fingers to her pulse, her frozen flesh was a cause for concern, but her pulse was present, although faint. He raised his fist, slamming it hard onto her chest. The boar shrieked in protest but calmed when Sejuani choked out the water in her lungs.
However, she was out cold, and Tryn rolled his eyes, staring at the boar. "Come on, you fat pig," he grunted, taking hold of the boar's tusks and pulling him out of the water. Bristle was conflicted about the barbarian. He was no fool and knew he would stand no chance against the barbarian before him. Bristle nudged his partner with his nose, to no avail. "Won't be waking up anytime soon," the barbarian huffed, throwing the woman over the boar's back.
Apart from the vicious fighter that she was, Tryndamere could not deny her rugged beauty. Her relaxed face looked somewhat cute, and he couldn't help but glance at her slightly parted lips. Still, it wasn't hard to imagine her with a scowl. In this world, it was kill or be killed.
"Where are you going?" the barbarian asked. The boar huffed, turning his head away childishly. "Are you mad because I called you a fat pig?" Bristle remained silent and continued on his way, earning an amused smirk from the barbarian. "Well, the truth hurts, don't it?" Bristle paused and quickly turned, slapping the barbarian with his tail. The man held his cheek and frowned, hoping his master wasn't as feisty as her boar. Tryndamere clutched his chest, staring at the mark that kept expanding across his chest; that couldn't be good.
Taking cover beneath the thicket, Tryndamere stared at the canopy, thankful they were now safe from the blizzard. The boar settled itself between two trees and rested its head against the ground, waiting. For what? Tryndamere was not sure. He sat beside the boar, leaning his back against the bark, the breeze noisily fluttering between the scatter of leaves.
Tryndamere's head fell slowly, and he gasped awake, troubled by the thought of falling asleep. His eyes were heavy, and he could not help the drowsiness that slowly settled over him. It was not a natural sort of fatigue, but try as he might, he succumbed to the darkness.
The barbarian awoke in the arms of comfort, a warmth he had not felt in decades. However, upon sensing a hand brush his stomach, Tryn's eyes shot open, and he hastily sat up, fist at the ready. Sej caught his fist with ease, not bothering to look at him as her other hands dabbed at his chest with a moist cloth. He relaxed and stared at the woman. "Where am I?"
"No need to be on your guard. Now lie back down," she ordered with a disapproving stare. He wasn't one to take orders. But her tone...Tryndamere couldn't quite put his finger on it. At least he knew why they called her the Warmother.
Sejuani was still wearing her battle armor, but it seemed as though she had removed her protective furs. He stared at her silky hair cascading down the side of her face. Despite the helmet she wore, her hair was of a good length, and its color was quite striking. The barbarian settled on creamy blonde, but he could not be sure.
Her hands were small compared to his, but he knew that mattered little; she had proven strong enough to hold her own against the troll king. Had it been just any other troll, she would have taken it out in a split second. The flaps of the tent blew open, and a little girl walked in, a heavy winter jacket wrapped around her small body and bowl of crushed herbs in her hands. The young girl smiled, bowing her head to the Warmother and barbarian alike, setting the bowl beside Sejuani.
Sejuani thanked the girl, and with little effort, she scooped up a handful of the smashed herbs. Tryndamere noted its unappealing color. So when she rubbed the mixture between her hands, he stopped her, taking hold of her wrists before she could attempt anything.
"What is that?" he barked, glaring at the odorless herbs.
"A concentrated mixture of herbs meant to counteract the effects of True Ice. They're quite rare," she scolded, giving time for her words to sink in. Tryn huffed and averted his eyes to the beige wall of the tent. Despite his rugged looks, the Warmother couldn't help but notice the small blush creeping across his cheeks. She raised a brow, surprised that such a warrior as himself would feel nervous over the prospect of a woman touching him.
Sejuani was used to treating the men of her tribe, and she had to be versatile to maintain order. Even though she had volunteered as the other females had shown hesitation over the barbarian, his body was broad and muscular. Without thinking, her hands were no longer applying the ointment but instead admiring his robust features.
Tryndamere cleared his throat, and Sejuani pulled away, her face remaining stoic. He sat up, reaching to touch the expansive red mark. "Don't touch," the Warmother chided, slapping his hand away. Tryn nodded, and once she turned around to gather her medical supplies, he rubbed his chest anyway. Glancing back at the woman, he decided to break the barrier and ask her how she was doing.
"You seem to be in good health," he noted dully, his eyes falling on his sword neatly resting atop the pile of his armor.
"It's not the first time I have fallen into the unforgiving waters of the Freljord. My people are prepared for such situations, and so is Bristle," she hummed, exiting the tent.
So the boar had a name.
He got dressed, leaving his helmet and sword behind, feeling no need to take them with him. Sejuani had shown him hospitality, so it would be a return of good faith; he would get his chance to battle her later.
He stared slightly baffled at the bustling populace. Tryn had heard the stories about the Winter's Claw and their fierce Warmother. But upon closer look, children were chasing each other, giggling as children should. The adults took to menial tasks as men and women sat around a large fire preparing supper. The mood was oddly light, almost liberating. It did not do his expectations justice, but deep down, he knew that within every person lay a killer—a survivor.
These people were raiders. They did not fear traveling into the unknown or accomplishing the impossible. These were the type of warriors Tryn admired, and he couldn't deny he felt welcomed by the ambiance. He spotted Sejuani from where he stood, she looked harmless at the moment, but her tone spoke volumes as she delegated. Her posture demanded respect; she was a woman who knew how to command. He felt a small tug and looked down at the boy. Despite his lean figure, he could tell the boy was quite muscular for his age. He would grow up to be a fine warrior someday.
"What?" he asked, taking a step back. It didn't change the fact that children irked him.
"Mother said you might be hungry," he smiled, offering the barbarian a bowl of soup with chunks of meat. He thanked the boy and followed, finding himself seated amongst adults. Sejuani took a seat beside him; she, however, did not eat. He had seen few people put others before themselves, but the Warmother would be the last to eat, making sure everyone else had been fed first. Tryndamere looked down at his bowl feeling oddly conflicted.
"Eat, you must regain your strength," she ordered, throwing a small twig of wood into the fire. Tryn frowned, his lips parting to tell her that he didn't take orders from her, but her people surrounded him. Striking offense would not be a wise move. She had shown a great deal of hospitality treating his wound and feeding him. All he could do in return was show respect. He may have been a killer, but he still had some common sense in him.
"Is it always like this?" he asked, staring at the children who took turns throwing snowballs at each other.
"Sometimes, yes, they are still children, but they are my children. They adapt when the time comes, and despite their childish tendencies, children can be quite ruthless. It is only part of the cycle," she spoke softly.
"I see," he trailed off awkwardly, hoping she would continue the conversation, and thankfully, she did.
"They are aware that to survive out here, one must be tough—tougher than the rest. They may help each other in turn, but rivalry is a necessity if one wishes to grow stronger. And only in the face of adversity will they be able to attain the strength to grow stronger." The barbarian let out a small chuckle, his respect for the warrior only growing—the tough love of a mother.
"Do you often travel?" Tryndamere asked. She nodded absently, petting the boar who had snuck up behind her.
"We hunt, we gather, and we raid; as such, we are constantly moving. Finding new hunting grounds, though the Freljords have never been found lacking of worthy adversaries. I'm sure you know how it is."
"Indeed," he agreed, taking a spoonful of the meaty stew.
"So what are you after?" Sejuani asked.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she spoke, throwing another twig into the fire.
"To challenge the strongest men and women to walk this land," he said, wrinkling his nose. They remained seated next to one another silently until the sun set behind the icy peaks to the west.
"I accept your challenge," she nodded, rising to her feet as her fellow clan members headed to their respective tents. "You look like you're itching for a fight." She led the barbarian to a clearing, where the wind stood still in the silent night. He looked uncertain as he rarely fought without his weapon, not that he lacked the physical fortitude to take her on.
"You may be strong, but it would be unfair to battle you with my flail. True Ice should be wielded with care unless you think yourself unable to beat me without a weapon?" Sejuani taunted. He rolled his eyes. Like that would ever happen. After the two assumed their respective battle stance, Tryndamere rushed her, his fearless nature kicking in as he threw a punch her way.
Sejuani sidestepped and grabbed his elbow, redirecting his attack. In a battle of raw strength, she was sure she would not be able to beat him, so Sejuani remained at bay, letting him charge at her while she used his own strength against him. Tryndamere knew the game she was playing, but he was also confident he could overpower her.
Despite his heavy blows, he was in slight awe of the way she moved. Like a leaf dancing through the breeze, she was light and agile, her movements poised as to not overexert herself. He snapped out of it and threw another punch her way. This time, though, she dodged, grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward, her foot connecting with his as she swept him off his feet. Tryndamere fell with a loud groan as he hit the ice. After countering his swing, she had overpowered him, flipping him over with ease.
"It seems as though I have won," she smiled softly, offering her hand. Tryn took hold of her hand and pulled her down on top of him, rolling over to pin her against the ice.
"It seems as though you let your guard down."
"May I ask what happened to all your previous challengers?"
"I killed them," he stated bluntly. "But there is no point in killing someone you want." The warmother frowned as their eyes connected. He was being sincere.
"Who says I want to be with you in the first place," she spat. That remark caught him off guard. Sejuani brought her knee up with haste, kicking him off her. She rolled over, straddling his stomach, and wrapped a hand around his neck.
"Well, if you're going to be rough..." he trailed off, forcing her underneath him again. Bristle watched from afar, tilting his head at the cycle of events, unsure what was happening. He let out an encouraging squeal cheering his partner on, and slunk against the tree, making himself comfortable.
"Don't underestimate me," Sejuani barked, but she couldn't lift her hands. She struggled underneath him, raising her knee once more, but he rested his weight on her thighs, forcing her legs back against the ice.
"On the contrary, I admire your strength and strong will," he chuckled. Sejuani froze as he leaned down, capturing her lips with his. He had been prepared for backlash to follow. However, she had caught him off guard; Sejuani had not resisted. Instead, she was kissing back, and he brought himself to a stop pulling away and looking at her.
Her eyes blinked with an unfamiliar emotion. Tryndamere had only been teasing her, but now, he was at a loss for words. Fighting was his forte, not romance, if that was even what you could call this. He hurried to his feet, backing away, jumping slightly when his back hit Bristle's side.
Sejuani sat up, conflicted by what just happened. Being a Warmother had its advantages, but she had forgotten what intimacy felt like over the years. Bristle had always been there for her; he was her trusty boar, but Bristle could not provide the affection that another human could.
Mustering up the remaining courage he had, Tryn cleared his throat.
"I will be heading out in the morning," he breathed, keeping his eyes fixated on the patch of trees behind her, holding her form in view. He was unable to look her in the eye.
"No, stay," Sejuani demanded, but her voice wavered, and rather than a command, it was a plea. Tryndamere finally looked at her—really looked. Her eyes captured his heart, and he couldn't help the uncomfortable weight in his chest.
Tryndamere knelt beside her, his fingers gently threading through her hair before he stole one more kiss from her chapped lips. "I won't," he assured. "I've never done this before, but will you allow me to court you properly?"
"Is there such a thing out here in the Freljords?" Sejuani chuckled.
"I want to get to know you—the real you. I usually take the things I want. But you...I want to earn you. And make you my queen."
Damn 2018 me was weird.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed :D