This is a little fic I started working on quite some time ago. I'm not especially fond of the way it turned out but, I have to admit, I'm never really fond of my work in this sort of field. There are so many things I think I could've handled with more finesse.
It's unfortunate that this piece was inspired by a post which no longer exists. The short version is that I had sent ask-theradiantdawn an ask, inquiring whether she had forgiven herself for the deaths of her peers, and Leona hadn't really been able to really provide an answer in any real confidence. After struggling to decide how she really felt, all she could settle for was placing a conciliatory hand on Riven's shoulder.
It's crazy to think that this whole thing was inspired by a three word in-joke.
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Neither Exile or Solari had shown much stomach for talk after that one brief moment. However little they had said, it was more than enough to make it clear they understood one another. Loss, for which they thought themselves responsible, had left a deep and lasting impact on them both. As peerless as they might be on the battlefield, it had taken a simply exchange of mutual feelings to disarm them both. Old scars had been painfully torn open and silence was the only defence either soldier could muster.
As uncomfortable as she found the situation, Riven couldn't help but take a little comfort in the warm hand gracing her shoulder. She'd always held the Rakkor in high regard, even before she'd known what had brought her to the League, and felt that same glimmer of mutual respect in Leona's touch. Their people had more than a little in common, even if that was something neither of them would willingly admit. Leona might not know the Noxian way but she understood the suffering that soldiery invited. More pertinent still: Did not the Solari too know the pain of being set apart from their people?
As the Rakkor's arm fell away, the Exile raised her own about the shieldmaiden's shoulders. She knew she had been far too callous in raising the question unbidden. Not everyone had made the past their home for as long as she had and she couldn't help but feel pangs of guilt for forcing her to return to those dark places. Leona was someone who thrived in the light, her courage plain for all to see, but now little more than pale imitation of her normal glory. Riven couldn't stand to see her that way.
She bit her lip, pained sincerity plain in her eyes.
"Please, Leona. There's something I want to show you".
In the years since the war, the Institute had permitted a relaxation garden, in the Ionian style, to be built upon its grounds. While officially nothing more than a place for quiet respite, it also served as a memorial for all the lives lost in the conflict. Few Noxians cared to pay their respects but Riven had marked herself as something of an exception. She led Leona to one of her favourite spots, a grassy knoll beneath the shade of the fresh cherry blossom, and bid she make herself comfortable. This was a place where they could talk freely, without fear of unwanted intrusions.
The garden was serene, its air of silence broken only by the gentle chiming of bells upon the breeze. Riven allowed her gaze to wander across the welcome scene before her. She had found them a rare moment of tranquillity and was in no hurry to kill the peace. The place was always quiet, calm, but rarely seemed as still as it did then. She and Leona were completely alone, with only the warm easterly wind for company. It wouldn't be long until the spectres of the dead too danced upon the breeze and strained their ghostly voices to be heard the distant bells. All Riven had to do was give the word.
The Exile bowed her head and drank deeply of the sweet scents circling about them. She could only muster a gentle sigh, a slight twinge of dissatisfaction about her tone, as she rose again.
"The first time I came here, I couldn't force myself to cross the gateway. I'd spent so long running from Ionia - trying to get away from my past - and I still wasn't ready to go back. I couldn't face the things I'd done there". Riven put a hand to her face, gently rubbing her lids. She hadn't met the Rakkor's gaze since they'd settled themselves beneath one of the shadier trees. "For all the comfort I've taken from this place, it still feels ... wrong to me. It isn't the Ionia I remember".
"I come here whenever I have time to spare at the Institute and every time I feel as though I'm looking for something that isn't quite there. I'd expected this to be a place of mourning - a place where the scars of the war were laid bare. For all I've done to move on, I can't hide the things I did there and ... I thought I'd see that reflected here".
Riven finally turned to Leona, her careful mask buckling about the corners of her lips. If their earlier exchange had opened old wounds, the Noxian now seemed intent to salt her own. It wasn't hard to tell how out of place she felt against the garden's measured perfection.
"So much death. How can they just ... let it go?"
The Exile sank backwards, bracing herself against the nearby cherry. She knew it was no secret that Ionia had left its mark on her but she didn't like others to know just how poorly those scars had healed. The war had never truly ended for her, even though she'd left the battlefield long behind. Ionia - this Ionia - had no place in her world and nothing in the life she'd known had equipped her to deal with this sort of situation. While the world had moved on, with new life replacing the dead, the corpses on her conscience had continued to rot - fester. She couldn't understand it.
"Part of me wants to feel the ash on my skin again, just so that I know it really happened. I spend each day reliving a nightmare I can't escape but here, where it should be closer than anywhere else, there's ... nothing. It feels like only I remember what happened there. Noxus doesn't care about a war they couldn't win outright and Ionia just wants to forget and move on".
Struck by a sudden wave of nausea, the Exile forced a hand to her mouth. For all the time she'd spent wallowing in the past, she'd never really had to face a trial like this before. It reminded her a little of her Judgement but even that had been easier for her to handle. Rather than being drawn into the past, and powerless in the face of history, it fell to her to summon up the spectres of death she wore. The was a good reason she chose to keep that darkness deep within. It was all too much for her to bear.
Her eyes were watering now, that familiar sickness finally loosed from the inky recesses of her mind. The comforting scent of the cherry curdled in her lungs as every passing second drew it closer to the haze that swallowed Coeur. She could feel them now, their icy fingers clawing at the corners of her vision and shredding what remained of her composure. This was a place of death, no matter how the Ionians wished to paint it. Their blood was forever in the earth, in the plants ... on her hands.
Riven tore her straining lids away from the Solari, deep rifts threatening to shatter her mask. Her mind laboured every agonising inch towards its goal as it clawed a crimson path across the skein of her sanity. She could barely hear her own words over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears.
"I've always dreamed of redemption - of making sure there never has to be another garden like this". She clenched her fists, fighting to maintain control. "I still don't know how. All I know is how to kill"
"How many lives have been saved because of your guilt, Leona? How many people have been inspired by you or been helped by your people?" The Exile shrugged. "Even if you still blame yourself, just think of all the good you can do with your life"
It was she had meant to say but still it wasn't enough.
"What good can I do? I'm just a killer with a bleeding heart"
A stifling hush came over the garden. The easterly wind was dead, the last peeling of the bells ringing in the silence of the grave, and scattered cherry blossoms fell lifeless to the earth. For but a moment, everything was still.
With no great ceremony, Leona reached out and gently took the Exile's hand within her own. That same extraordinary warmth once more flowed through Riven's body, as if announcing a renewal of that unspoken covenant. She glanced quickly to their hands, expecting to see the Solari's now adorned with scarlet, but found nothing more notable than the blanching of her knuckles. Leona's smile was every bit as radiant as her patron.
