#rivarus

“I love you, Riven. Please, stay here. Stay here with me, in Ionia.”

“But I… I couldn’t… My sister’s out there. She’s searching for me. I have to find her.”

“I don’t know how much time I have left in this world, and there’s no one I’d rather spend it more with than you. You know that.”

“Varus…”

“We can be together with no interference. Just you and me, for… a few years at most.”

“You can’t have it all! You can’t do this to me…”

His eyes soften, and he places his corrupted hand - the purple thing running up to his shoulder now - on her head. She knows what her wording does to him - those are the words she spat at him when he confessed his desire to have both his wife and the relationship with the Noxian. 

Forgiveness takes time, and, in their case, the first few steps took ten long years. They’re past the bitter fury which consumed them to the point of sheer numbness, and now can only hope that they can make up the time. It’s a foolish belief, she knows, but it’s all she has left.

“I’m sorry that it took us this long to find each other, Riven.”

“…I’m sorry that you didn’t choose another path.”

She leans forward and closes her eyes, pressing her forehead against his bare, pale chest, one of the few areas not tainted by the monster threatening to consume his body. A soft sigh escapes scarred lips, and the once proud marksman wraps his arms carefully around her shoulders.

“Perhaps in another life, this will be easier…”

“You and your spiritual Ionian bullshit.”

His chest shakes, and she can hear him laughing loudly, though the echo in his voice still manages to scare her. It’s almost… comforting, how familiar it sounds. Almost.

“Don’t speak such ill words against my beliefs, Riven. We’ll see each other again… as proper lovers, rather than enemies, I would hope.”

“Maybe.”

She lifts her head and squints to stare at his chiseled, pale, dying face. Before, his hazel eyes reflected bravery and confidence, but all that is left are a blank white, devoid of any feeling.

“I’m here,” he murmurs in a soft tone, one she hasn’t heard since her first trip to Ionia.

“Let’s go home,” she whispers, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall.

Her eyes stayed shut as the memory burned the inside of her eyelids, and she bit her lip, reliving that moment in her faint dreams. She was lying on her side, her body curled up near the edge of the bed, leaving the rest of it empty and near-perfectly cleaned. The Noxian smiled softly and reached around behind her to grasp for his warm, calloused hand, but found nothing but cold morning air.

Brown eyes snapped open, and a sharp light shone in between the cracks of the blinds.

“Varus?!” she screamed, quickly sitting up and patting the mattress beside her. It took her a few long seconds to realize that there was no one else in the room, that her mind was playing tricks on her. She took a deep breath and pressed her fingers against her chest, shaking her head slowly. As she did so, the red pendant dangling around her neck bumped into her knuckles, and she nearly flinched at the feeling of cool metal against her skin.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his necklace, and she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. “Varus…” she whispered softly, clutching it tightly in her hand. She lifted her legs up and pressed her knees against her chest, resting her head in between her knees. It had been many years since she had made a reluctant peace with the corrupted man, and only three since he succumbed to the evil spreading throughout his body. There was little to be done. She was forced to watch the only man she had ever truly loved slowly die before her very eyes.

Though, perhaps his spirit had passed on long before the corruption invaded his whole body.

Tears streaked her cheeks, and she couldn’t contain the sobs welling up in her chest. Her body wracked with anxiety, and she wrapped her arms around herself to try and stop the shaking. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, and the nails digging into her shoulders did nothing to alleviate the pain. The screams muffled into her bare skin released some of the tension, but her tears seemed never ending.

She was the one who truly ended his life.

“I trust you.”

“Varus, I can’t kill you.”

“If you don’t, then I will.”

“No…”

“Riven…”

“You can’t do this to me.”

“There’s no turning back now.”

It’s all a flashing blur to her.

She isn’t sure if the liquid splattered on her hands is blood.

This hollowness wasn’t there before.

Weakened, she drops to her knees and hangs her head.

There is his slain body (claimed by the corruption of Pallas), and beside him, her broken blade.

She still couldn’t believe that he was gone.

It’s a long walk to the desecrated village, her mind filled with regret. Her feet drag her along the barren path, and she doesn’t even try to clean up the mess she has made.

“Sis -!”

Her heart aches at seeing the damage that was dealt to this village, merely a lost moment in time where her hand had taken the lives of countless Ionians, including his family. No one would come back to this place. It is a sacred ground, filled with the bodies of the fallen - a reminder of the tragedies of the war. For her personally, it is the place where she loved and hated, gained and lost.

The door slammed open, and a frazzled Erika burst into the room.

Riven can’t handle it anymore. She wants to die, to join him in the afterlife, and here is where her life should be ended: the very ground on which she spilled the blood of innocent humans. The dizziness overtakes her, and she drops to the ground, unconscious.

“Sis, what’s -”

Erika doesn’t think to ask any questions before she drags the ex-Noxian commander’s body into her small cottage, with her partner’s help. Riven is healing, but it’s a slow, arduous process, with her refusal to eat and rest. Only Talon’s constant persuasion, coupled with Erika’s pestering pushes Riven to eat meager amounts of bread and soup.

Riven couldn’t hear her sister gasp, nor feel her small fingers curl around her hands.

One day, Riven simply gets up, ignoring the excruciating pain emanating throughout her body, and searches the cottage without any explanation when she realizes that neither Erika, nor Talon are around. She finds her sword, cleaned and neatly wrapped in Erika’s room, and she can’t seem to hold it as confidently as before. Her body is weak, and she isn’t able to even lift it higher than her hips. Feeling her knees buckle, she instead uses the sword as a walking stick and grips the handle with as much strength as she can muster.

“Riven, it’s okay,” Erika said, grasping the woman’s fingers tightly. “I’m here.”

She finds herself leaving the cottage as soon as she can, only to be blinded by the bright Ionian sun. There is nothing for her in Ionia, no reason for her to continue living with Erika. She’d only be a burden to her sister, and the constant guilt eating at her chest tells her that she needs to leave before one of them comes back and confines her to that damned bed. She follows wherever her feet will take her, guided by instinct and accompanied by a broken blade, a destroyed spirit and constant regret.

“Riven…” The girl’s arms wrap around the woman’s shoulders, and she pulled Riven’s head against the crook of her neck. “Come back, Riven. Come back to reality.”

She staggers and falls to her knees again, the broken blade dropping to the ground with a loud clang! Her nails dig into the soft earth, and she stares down at her hands - these damned, bloodstained hands - remembering the faces of those she killed; every anxious look, every fearful stare, every turn of the head - and the single peaceful look of a man who smiled as her sword stole his life away. Years of diligently following every order given, and what does she get?

A meaningless credo and a meaningless life.

“Please. Come back. Don’t you remember me? I’m Erika, your sister.”

Yet the only person who consumed Riven’s thoughts was a man she loved, hated, loved and lost.

Riven stares ahead thoughtfully and wraps her arms around her knees to give herself a spot to rest her chin. The soon-to-be Noxian commander breathes in slowly and wiggles her toes around to adjust her sitting position, unsure of how to respond to her sister’s question.

“Riv...” the younger girl mumbles, falling backwards onto the grass and looking up at the blue sky. “Did ya even hear me?”

“Of course I did, Rika,” she says quietly, trying to refrain from looking at her sister. She knows that if she sees her sister crying, then Riven won’t be able to keep her calm, cool exterior any longer. She’s supposed to be the strong one, the one that Erika could turn to with any of her problems and questions. That’s how it is, how it always will be. She’s unbreakable. Immovable. Powerful.

Always.

So how could she not answer this simple question?

“...Ri-”

“I know. Why isn’t Talon paying attention to you?” she repeats, fighting to contain her urge to sigh. “I just... I don’t know what to tell you.” The soldier presses her nose into her arm and keeps her eyes staring at the town below them. The breeze is cool and calm against her bare shoulders, though she feels oddly exposed without the armor she’s become so accustomed to wearing. Yet she feels impossibly big up on this green hill, and the people scurrying around the marketplace look like little ants trying to gather as much food as they can to satisfy their needs. They look... pathetic.

Biting her lip, she goes over Erika’s question in her mind and replays the way Erika has been acting the past few days. She’s constantly been in and out of the house, even though Riven’s on a much needed “vacation”. Somehow, Erika manages to do her work for General Du Couteau and the rest of his family, clean the small little Lindquist home and follow her training routine. With a smile. The same old smile she’s plastered on her face, just like the forced, melancholic one she wore when they were kids. And she’s kept all these feelings inside of herself ever since Father died...

Disappeared, she corrects in her head.

How painful it must have felt to be trapped within her tumultuous thoughts.

She isn’t sure she knows how Erika feels right now. 

But she does know that she needs someone to say something.

Anyone.

Anything.

“Erika, I can’t give you a good reason,” Riven finally admits, letting her head hang in between her knees. “I don’t... I’ve never...” She still can’t look at the young girl sprawled out on the grass, but she knows that she’s holding her breath. “I'm quite sure I’ve never felt what you feel right now.”

A soft gasp fills the air, then disappears into the wind.

“I don’t... really mind the feeling of being ignored. And honestly,” she mumbles, laughing inwardly, “I don’t think I’ll ever care anymore.”

Riven’s overly sensitive ears note the crumpling of clothing and the deep breath that the twelve year-old takes. “But the temple warden -”

Her heart skips a beat, and she realizes too late that she’s straightened her back and allowed her mouth to form a small ‘o’. No, she thinks, hardening her expression into a scowl, her words can’t get to me.

“He did something to you too, didn’t he?”

“Erika.”

The wind has died down to nearly nothing.

Her brown hair falls over her eyes, and she quickly whips her head to the side, both to get her bangs out of the way, and to shoot a pointed glare at the young girl.

Erika’s matching hazel irises are unfaltering, and she bobs her head eagerly, as her shoulder length hair curtains around her small face.

“You should be honest with him. And yourself.”

Riven’s mind drifts off.

“I’ll tell you this once.”

She laughs. Erika flinches.

“No one will ever tell you the truth out of their own free will. Humans are selfish beings, and they want more than they need to fulfill their never ending greed. They’ll use you, then push you aside when the timing is right. I’m selfish. You’re selfish. It’s just how we are.” A small, rueful smile appears on her lips, but it doesn’t reach the cold hazel of her eyes. “The only time you will ever hear him tell you the truth is when you’re both locked in a heated argument, and he’s screaming at you at the top of his lungs. And that’s when your truths will come out, too.”

Her eyes flutter shut. She can see the marksman now, the wind blowing his long, brown hair behind him as he stares at her with the most striking eyes she has ever seen. Her whole life has been devoted to Noxus; why her heart still yearns for him, - a damned Ionian - she doesn’t know. 

“Then something spills. The wrong sentence. A slip of the tongue. He doesn’t mean to say it to your face, but he does. And you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t just angry. The excuse doesn’t cut it. That right there is what he’s been hiding all this time. You know he’s telling you exactly how he feels.”

She sees herself reaching out for him, but he shakes his head. That’s when it goes sour. You can’t have both worlds, she remembers shouting at him. You can’t have it all. You can’t leave me like this.

“Exactly why he doesn’t want you anymore.”

I am unbreakable.

“Riv...”

You aren’t supposed to be able to break me.

“Why it can’t work. Why it won’t work.”

She laughs again and stares at Erika, whose eager look has been replaced by fear and sympathy. Erika has a frown on her face for once, and her eyebrows are scrunched up in deep thought. The girl doesn’t even seem to notice Riven’s curious gaze. 

You don’t understand, Riven... Listen. Listen to me, damn it!

“You feel so powerful and guarded and ready to take the world on, but it takes a few kind words and some stupid heartfelt exchanges to knock those walls down,” she murmurs, reaching out to place her hand on Erika’s head. “That’s what we were never taught. How could we have known? Be strong. Be fearless. But no one tells you about emotions. Emotions don’t exist in Noxus. Funny how that happens, huh.”

It’s quiet for a moment as the breeze picks back up. Riven takes her hand back and clenches it into a tight fist. This is a hand made for violence, killing and destruction. Not compassion. Not tenderness. And definitely not lov -

“So...” Erika finally looks up, tears streaking her cheeks. “Who ended it?”

Who gave you the right to destroy my resolve?

Her fingers tremble as she uncurls them and stares at her scarred, calloused palm.