Thawing Ice
Chapter 6: Thawing Ice
The settlement of Ghulfrost emerged from the icy expanse like a defiant monument to resilience, its weathered structures standing firm against the relentless tundra. It wasn’t grand or sprawling, but there was an unshakable strength in its design—a community built for survival. Sturdy stone walls rose to shoulder the weight of the unforgiving winds, their surfaces etched with frost and marked by years of harsh winters. Timber roofs, reinforced with thick thatching, sloped steeply to shed snow, and heavy shutters protected windows from the elements.
Nestled at the base of a sheer cliff, Ghulfrost was both shielded and constrained by its surroundings. The towering pines that framed the settlement swayed gently in the bitter wind, their dark silhouettes standing sentinel against the encroaching wilderness. Narrow paths carved into the frozen ground wound between the buildings, linking the settlement with the cliffside trails above. Watchtowers dotted the edges, their wooden frames sturdy and utilitarian, rising like sentinels with vigilant eyes trained on the vast expanse of white.
From the chimneys of the clustered homes and communal buildings, tendrils of gray smoke rose into the overcast sky. The scent of burning pine and cooking fires mingled with the crisp, icy air, a stark yet comforting reminder of the life within these walls. Here and there, faint glimmers of light from lanterns and hearths shone through frost-covered windows, casting a warm glow against the stark whiteness of the landscape.
It wasn’t just a settlement—it was a stronghold against the cold indifference of the Freljord. Every structure, every pathway, every watchtower spoke of a community that had endured, that had carved out a life in one of the harshest regions of Runeterra. And in its quiet strength, Ghulfrost carried the air of a place that had stories to tell, secrets buried deep beneath the snow.
To Caitlyn, the settlement felt isolated, its high stone walls and towering pines like a cage keeping the world out—or keeping those within trapped. The rugged beauty of Ghulfrost, with its snow-laden roofs and frost-etched paths, couldn’t mask the overwhelming sense of vulnerability she felt here. The sheer cliff behind it loomed like an impassable barrier, cutting off escape to one side, while the frozen wilderness stretched endlessly beyond the other. Every watchtower, every wary glance from the figures moving between the buildings, reinforced the impression that this was a place constantly bracing for an attack—a community surviving by sheer will in the face of unrelenting odds. To Caitlyn, it was a fortress, but also a reminder of how alone they were in this vast, untamed land.
To Ashe, however, this was home. Her pace slowed as they neared the tall, intricately carved wooden gate that marked the settlement’s entrance. The carvings told stories of battles fought and victories hard-won, their lines worn smooth by time and weather. Ashe ran her gloved fingers lightly over the edges of the timber as they passed, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing her otherwise stoic face. Her gaze lifted to the towering pines that framed the settlement, the sentinel trees standing as they had for generations, a living testament to the enduring spirit of her people.
“This place,” Ashe began, her voice quieter now, yet steady, “is where my mother fought her last battle.” She paused, her ice-blue eyes scanning the settlement as if seeing it not as it was now, but as it had been in that moment—filled with the chaos of war, the cries of her people, and the memory of loss. Her tone softened, her words carrying the weight of history and pain. “Ghulfrost has always been a place of resilience. It stands because we refuse to let it fall.”
For a moment, the group was silent, the weight of Ashe’s words sinking into the frigid air. Jinx tilted her head curiously, her eyes narrowing as she studied Ashe and not just her ass. There was something different about her now, a quiet reverence in her tone that stilled even Jinx’s usual manic energy. Though she didn’t speak, her expression softened, her wild grin replaced by a look of quiet curiosity.
Mel, ever the diplomat, inclined her head respectfully. Her golden eyes roamed over the settlement, noting the intricate carvings on the gate, the sturdy, practical architecture, and the wary but determined glances of the people within. “It’s a place of strength,” Mel said, her tone low but full of understanding. “You can feel it—every stone, every path carries the weight of those who fought to protect it.”
Ashe’s gaze flicked to Mel, and though her face betrayed no emotion, there was a faint nod of acknowledgment. “It is more than strength,” Ashe replied, her words laced with quiet pride. “It is survival. It is legacy.”
Caitlyn tightened her grip on her rifle, her sharp blue eyes scanning the settlement once more. Though she said nothing, she felt the tension settle deeper in her chest. To her, Ghulfrost was a reminder of what it meant to be constantly on guard, to live with the knowledge that every battle could be your last. It was a reality she understood all too well, though seeing it here—so far removed from Piltover—gave it a new, raw edge.
As the gates began to creak open, the heavy timbers groaning under the weight of their mechanisms, Caitlyn cast a sidelong glance at Jinx. The younger woman’s sharp gaze was still fixed on Ashe, her expression unreadable, though her fingers twitched slightly as if itching to reach for her pistol. Caitlyn felt the familiar pang of unease that always accompanied Jinx’s silence, but for now, even Jinx seemed subdued, her chaos momentarily held at bay by the solemnity of the moment.
The gates groaned as they swung open, revealing the heart of Ghulfrost and its wary inhabitants. Villagers moved about with purpose, their heavy furs and cloaks dusted with frost, their faces etched with the hardness of lives lived in constant vigilance. They paused in their tasks to observe the newcomers, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Weathered hands gripped tools and weapons with equal familiarity—axes, spears, and knives worn smooth from years of use. Most of their gazes lingered longest on the airship parked at the outskirts, its sleek, foreign design a stark contrast to the rough-hewn practicality of their settlement.
Ashe stepped forward, her posture straight and unyielding, and the shift in the villagers’ demeanor was immediate. Their gazes softened, heads dipping in acknowledgment as she passed. Some of the older villagers murmured quiet greetings, while younger ones watched her with awe, their eyes wide as they stood frozen in place. Ashe responded with a brief nod to each, her silent presence speaking volumes of the respect she commanded here.
“This way,” she said, her voice low but authoritative, cutting through the cold air like the howl of the wind. She gestured toward the largest structure in the village, a long hall that stood proudly near the center of the settlement. Its steep roof was layered with overlapping shingles of dark wood, each plank reinforced to withstand the relentless snows. The doorframe was adorned with intricate carvings of wolves and spears, their forms almost lifelike in the flickering light of nearby torches. The images seemed to move with the shadows, telling silent stories of ancient battles and victories hard-won.
The heavy wooden doors creaked as they swung inward, revealing a spacious interior illuminated by the warm, golden glow of firelight. A central hearth dominated the room, its flames crackling and snapping as they danced over split logs. The scent of burning pine mingled with the faint tang of smoke and the earthy aroma of dried herbs hanging from the beams above. The walls were lined with shields and banners, their designs weathered but proud, and carved wooden pillars supported the roof, their surfaces adorned with scenes of hunting, war, and celebration.
As they stepped inside, the flickering shadows cast by the fire seemed to stretch and shift, giving the space a sense of movement, as if the stories carved into the wood were alive. Villagers followed them in at a respectful distance, their hushed whispers barely audible over the crackling fire. A long, heavy table stretched down the center of the hall, its surface scarred and stained from years of use. Chairs and benches lined either side, their craftsmanship sturdy and unadorned, built for practicality rather than comfort.
Caitlyn’s sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the exits, the placement of the weapons on the walls, and the number of villagers present. She shifted her rifle slightly, her fingers brushing the stock as a reflexive gesture. Despite the warmth of the fire, the tension in the air remained palpable, and Caitlyn’s instincts told her this was a place where alliances were fragile and trust had to be earned.
Jinx, on the other hand, seemed entirely at ease. She strolled inside with her hands shoved casually into her coat pockets, her eyes darting around as she took in the hall’s details. “Cozy,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. Her grin widened as she eyed the carvings of wolves on the pillars. “Big on wolves, huh? I like it. Bet they’re not just for decoration.”
Mel stepped forward with her usual poise, her golden eyes sweeping the room with a quiet appreciation. She paused briefly near the hearth, the light of the fire reflecting off her polished gauntlets, before turning her attention back to Ashe. “This is a place of strength,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. “Your people have built more than a settlement—they’ve built a legacy.”
Ashe glanced at Mel, her ice-blue eyes betraying no emotion, though the faintest tilt of her head suggested she accepted the words. “Ghulfrost endures because we make it endure,” she replied, her tone firm but not unkind. She gestured toward the table, her movements deliberate. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”
Jinx remained leaning against the wall, her figure relaxed yet exuding an air of restless energy. Her gaze was nowhere near the table or the tense conversation unfolding. Instead, it lingered on Ashe’s bow, leaning innocuously against the wall beside her. She traced its sleek, ice-forged curves with her eyes, her fingers twitching at her side as if resisting the urge to reach out. The firelight danced across the bow’s surface, catching its intricate patterns and making it look more alive than any weapon had a right to.
Ashe’s gaze flickered briefly toward Jinx, her ice-blue eyes narrowing slightly as though she could feel the younger woman’s attention on her weapon. For now, however, she said nothing, returning her focus to the table and the discussion at hand.
Caitlyn, seated to Ashe’s right, placed Viktor’s tracking device on the rough-hewn table with care. The device pulsed faintly, its rhythmic hum barely audible over the crackle of the hearth. The glow it emitted bathed the room in a soft blue light, its presence commanding attention despite its small size. Caitlyn’s expression was taut, her sharp features illuminated by the interplay of blue and gold light as her thoughts swirled. This device, and what it represented, was a beacon leading them into danger—but also, she hoped, a path to answers.
Ashe sat at the head of the table, her silhouette imposing against the firelight. Her posture was upright, deliberate, her arms crossed, though ready to act at a moment’s notice. Her sharp eyes were locked onto the tracking device, their cold intensity mirroring the icy expanse outside. It was a look of assessment, as if she were weighing not only the device but the people sitting around her.
Mel, ever poised, sat to Ashe’s left, her golden eyes flickering in the light as she met Ashe’s gaze. She leaned forward slightly, her hands folded on the table, her polished gauntlets catching the fire’s glow. Her tone, when she spoke, was even but firm, each word carrying a measured weight. “We believe this theft is connected to Noxus,” she began, her voice steady and deliberate. A brief pause followed, the tension in the room palpable as Ashe’s expression hardened. “Specifically, a woman named Ambessa Medarda. She’s a general of considerable influence.”
The mention of Noxus shifted the atmosphere. Ashe’s shoulders stiffened, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, but the subtle movement did not go unnoticed. Her arms, previously crossed in a guarded stance, lowered as her hands rested firmly on the table. Her gaze sharpened, glinting like frost-covered steel as it bore into Mel. “And are you not a Medarda yourself?” she asked, her voice quiet but piercing, her tone carrying an edge that cut through the tension like a blade.
For a moment, the room fell into an uneasy silence, the hum of the tracking device seeming louder in the absence of words. Ashe’s gaze didn’t waver, the unspoken weight of her question pressing down on the room. To Caitlyn, the moment felt like the first crack in thin ice, one that could deepen into a chasm if they weren’t careful.
Jinx, meanwhile, tilted her head slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching as though suppressing a grin. She muttered something unintelligible, her eyes darting between Ashe and Mel with a look that suggested she was debating whether to add fuel to the fire. Her attention, however, kept drifting back to the bow. It seemed to call to her, daring her to test its power, its icy glow almost mocking her restless energy.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the shifting shadows playing on the walls like silent spectators to the charged atmosphere. Mel, unflinching under Ashe’s piercing gaze, finally leaned back slightly, her poise unshaken as she prepared her response. The table, laden with unspoken tension and the weight of opposing worlds, became the battlefield where words would decide their next move.
Mel straightened her posture, the subtle shift adding an air of authority to her already composed presence. Her chin lifted slightly, her golden eyes unwavering as they locked onto Ashe’s icy blue gaze. “I am,” she said, her voice steady and deliberate, each word carrying weight. “Ambessa is my mother.”
The admission landed heavily, cutting through the tension in the room like a blade. The crackling fire seemed to dim in the wake of her words, its warmth unable to soften the chill that settled over the group. Ashe’s reaction was immediate, her sharp features hardening as her fingers curled tighter against the edge of the table. Though her expression betrayed little, her narrowed eyes spoke of a storm brewing beneath the surface—a quiet fury tempered only by her practiced restraint.
The tension between the two women was almost suffocating, an unspoken battle of wills that filled the air. Ashe’s piercing gaze bore into Mel, searching for any crack in her composure, any sign of deception or weakness. But Mel gave nothing away. She remained steady, her voice calm, her demeanor unflinching. It was a testament to her own strength, her ability to wield her identity as both a shield and a weapon when needed.
Caitlyn’s sharp gaze flicked between Mel and Ashe, her mind racing to anticipate the fallout of Mel’s revelation. Her rifle rested at her side, within easy reach, though she prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Outwardly, Caitlyn appeared calm, her features schooled into a mask of focus, but inwardly, her heart pounded in her chest. Mel’s admission was a calculated risk, one that could either bridge the divide between them or push Ashe further away. And Caitlyn knew that in the Freljord, trust was not easily won—especially from someone like Ashe.
Against the wall, Jinx shifted, her attention drawn back to the growing tension between the two women. A sly grin tugged at her lips as her eyes darted between Ashe and Mel. This was her kind of chaos, and she couldn’t help but stoke the fire. She leaned forward slightly, the shadows from the firelight casting mischievous shapes across her sharp features. “Oh, this is rich,” she drawled, her voice laced with mockery. “You’ve got guts, Golden Girl. Dropping the ‘Mommy Medarda’ bomb right here, right now. Love it.”
Caitlyn’s glare snapped toward Jinx, her patience visibly fraying. “Jinx,” she hissed, her tone sharp and warning, “not now.”
But Jinx was already in motion, her grin widening as she ignored Caitlyn entirely. “What’s the play here, Mel?” Jinx continued, her voice lilting with exaggerated curiosity. “You gonna use your fancy bloodline to charm the Ice Queen? Maybe invite her to tea with Mommy Dearest? Oh wait, let me guess—Ambessa taught you diplomacy and destruction in equal measure.”
Jinx’s words were a pointed jab, one laced with her trademark chaos, but her disdain for Mel was unmistakable. Ever since that moment back in Piltover when Mel had called her “Powder,”Jinx’s simmering dislike had only grown. It wasn’t outright hatred, but it was close. The kind of grudge Jinx nurtured with glee, using every opportunity to needle Mel with her sharp tongue.
Ashe’s gaze flicked briefly to Jinx, her icy composure unshaken by the interruption, before returning to Mel. “Your mother has brought war to my lands,” Ashe said, her voice low and measured, but laced with quiet anger. “She has taken what was not hers, spilled the blood of my people, and left scars on the Freljord that will not heal. You share her name, her blood. Why should I trust anything you say?”
Mel held her ground, her hands resting lightly on the table. “Because I am not my mother,” she replied, her tone resolute, though a flicker of something deeper—regret, perhaps—passed across her face. “Ambessa and I may share blood, but we do not share vision. That gemstone she has stolen is dangerous in anyone’s hands. My presence here is proof of that. I’m willing to risk everything to stop her.”
Jinx rolled her eyes dramatically, her back hitting the wall as she crossed her arms. “Oh, give me a break,” she muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Look at her, all noble and self-sacrificing. Someone grab a violin.” Her grin returned, sharper this time, as her eyes darted back to Ashe. “You’re buying this, right? Please tell me you’re not falling for her ‘good Medarda’ act. She’s practically dripping with privilege.”
Caitlyn shot Jinx a warning glare, her voice a low growl. “Enough.”
But Jinx wasn’t done. She pushed off the wall, taking a few casual steps toward the table, her gaze flicking back to Mel. “You know,” she added with a smirk, “it’s funny how someone like you thinks they can just talk their way out of things. Like your name doesn’t carry the weight of every blade your mother’s ever swung.” She turned to Ashe, her tone dripping with mock cheer. “What do you think, Ice Queen? Should we trust her? Or maybe we just throw her in the snow and see if she can ‘diplomacy’ her way back to Mommy?”
The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Ashe’s gaze remained locked on Mel, If the Warmother had an opinion on Jinx’s comments, she didn’t voice it, but the weight of her judgment bore down on the entire room.
The tension in the room crackled like the fire in the hearth, its heat a stark contrast to the icy air that seemed to settle between Mel and Ashe. Ashe sat with her arms crossed again, her piercing ice-blue eyes fixed unyieldingly on Mel. Despite the firelight flickering against her features, Ashe’s composure was like stone—unshaken, immovable. Mel, seated at the table with Caitlyn directly across from her, maintained a semblance of poise, but a slight tightness in her jaw betrayed her frustration. Her golden eyes sparked with barely concealed irritation, her polished gauntlets resting heavily on the table as if grounding her.
“Your mother’s hand has scarred the Freljord,” Ashe said, her tone even but cutting, each word precise and deliberate. “And now you sit here, asking for my help, claiming to seek peace and assistance. Forgive me if I’m less than convinced.”
Mel’s chin lifted, her composure cracking slightly as her voice sharpened. “I am not my mother,” she said firmly, her golden eyes locked on Ashe’s. “Her choices, her conquests, her… scars, as you call them, are hers alone. I’ve spent my life working to undo the damage she’s caused, to build something better.”
Ashe arched an eyebrow, her expression unchanging. “And yet, here you are, using her name as leverage. If you were truly different, you would have left that name behind.”
Mel’s fingers curled against the table, her composure slipping further. “You think it’s that simple?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “Do you know what it means to grow up under someone like Ambessa Medarda? To carry the weight of that name and everything it represents? I’ve had to fight for every ounce of respect I’ve earned, and I’ve done it without her.”
Before Ashe could respond, a loud, exaggerated laugh cut through the tension like a blade. All eyes turned to Jinx, who was leaning casually against the wall again near Ashe’s bow, her arms crossed and her eyes glinting with mischief. “Wow, Mel,” Jinx drawled, her grin sharp and taunting. “Real inspiring speech. But let’s not forget who brought Noxian drama to our doorstep in the first place. You sure you’re not just here to finish what Mommy started?”
“Jinx!” Caitlyn snapped from her seat across from Mel, her tone sharp and commanding. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “Enough. This isn’t the time.”
But Jinx wasn’t done. She pushed off the wall, sauntering closer to the table as she gestured vaguely toward Ashe. “I’m just saying, Cupcake, maybe the Ice Queen here should think twice about trusting someone whose entire family history is built on, oh, I don’t know, conquering everything in sight.” She smirked, her gaze flicking to Ashe. “You’re smart, right? You don’t need me to tell you that people like Mel are really good at playing the long game.”
Mel’s lips pressed into a thin line, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said coldly, her tone laced with disdain.
“Oh, I know plenty,” Jinx shot back, her grin widening. “Like how you’d sell out this whole mission if it meant saving your reputation. Or how you’ve been tiptoeing around every conversation because you’re scared someone’s gonna call you out. Guess what? I’m calling you out.”
“Jinx,” Caitlyn interrupted, her voice low and dangerous. “That’s enough. Go outside. Now.”
Jinx turned to Caitlyn, her smirk faltering for a moment before twisting into something more defiant. “You’re not the Sheriff here, Caitlyn,” she said, crossing her arms and tilting her head mockingly. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on the edge of the table. “Jinx, this isn’t a debate.”
“Oh, but it is,” Jinx countered, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto Caitlyn’s. “And you’re losing.”
The tension in the room thickened, Ashe’s gaze shifting briefly between the three women. Though she remained silent, the faint tightening of her jaw as she stood up slowly indicated her growing impatience. Finally, Ashe raised a hand, her calm voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough.”
Jinx froze mid-step, her grin faltering ever so slightly as Ashe’s commanding presence filled the room. The Warmother’s piercing gaze settled on Jinx, unblinking and cold. “Your theatrics have no place here,” Ashe said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “If you cannot contribute to this discussion with purpose, you are free to leave.”
Jinx’s grin returned, though it was smaller, sharper. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, her tone flippant but laced with a faint edge of bitterness. “I’m contributing. Just making sure everyone here sees the bigger picture.” Her gaze flicked pointedly to Mel before she leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed once more.
Caitlyn let out a slow breath, her fingers relaxing slightly as she shot Jinx a warning glare. Mel, meanwhile, was visibly bristling, her composure shaken but not broken. Ashe, ever composed, returned her attention to Mel, her tone calm but unyielding. “If you wish to prove your intentions, now is the time,” she said. “But know this: words alone will not earn my trust.”
Mel straightened, drawing on the fragments of her shattered composure. Her voice, steady but edged with steel, carried a quiet intensity that echoed through the hall. “I won’t deny my connection to her, nor the power she wields,” she began, her golden eyes meeting Ashe’s unyielding gaze. “But Ambessa acts in her own interest, not mine. This theft was not sanctioned by Piltover. It is her ambition, her greed, that has brought us here.” Her hand gestured toward the glowing device resting on the table, the faint hum of its energy a quiet undercurrent to her words. “The gemstone she’s taken—if left unchecked—could bring ruin to all of us, Noxians and Freljordians alike.”
Ashe remained still, her expression as cold and unyielding as the glaciers that framed her home. There was no flicker of emotion, no softening of her sharp features. She stood tall, arms crossed, her ice-blue eyes fixed on Mel with a piercing intensity that made the fire in the hearth seem dim by comparison. “Words,” Ashe said finally, her voice low but cutting, “are the easiest weapons to wield. You speak of ruin, of threats to my people, but you bring nothing but promises and rhetoric. If you want my help, you’ll need to offer something more.”
Mel opened her mouth to respond, but Caitlyn’s voice cut through, raw and urgent. “Show her.”
All eyes turned to Caitlyn, seated across from Mel, her usually composed features softened by desperation. Her eyes shimmered with barely contained tears, a mixture of frustration and pleading etched into her expression. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if anchoring herself. “Jinx,” Caitlyn said, her voice trembling slightly but steadying with determination. “Please. Show her.”
For a moment, Jinx said nothing, her eyes narrowing as they flicked to Caitlyn. The usual manic grin that graced her face faltered, replaced by something quieter, almost hesitant. She hated seeing Caitlyn like this—vulnerable, on the edge of breaking. It wasn’t just about Caitlyn’s plea; it was about what Caitlyn represented to her. Caitlyn wasn’t just the Sheriff. She was Vi’s, and that bond, fragile as it was, meant everything to Jinx.
Her face softened, but only for Caitlyn. “Fine,” Jinx muttered, her voice lacking its usual chaotic lilt. She reached into her holster and drew her pistol, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the firelight. The weapon’s design was unmistakable, and at its core, embedded in the grip, a gemstone pulsed with a soft, ominous glow, its energy swirling like a storm trapped in glass.
The room seemed to hold its breath as Jinx raised the pistol and without hesitation, she fired. The crack of the shot rang out like thunder, reverberating off the walls. A streak of blue energy arced from the barrel, striking one of the intricately carved wolf heads mounted on the wall. The effect was immediate and electrifying. The wolf’s head disintegrated in a burst of light and energy, leaving a jagged, charred outline where it had once been. Blue lightning rippled across the wall, leaving glowing fractures that pulsed like veins of some living, angry creature.
The silence that followed was deafening. The only sound was the faint hum of residual energy crackling along the wall, a testament to the power Jinx had unleashed.
Jinx holstered her pistol with a casual flourish, her demeanor returning to its usual indifference. She glanced at Mel briefly, her expression unreadable but tinged with something akin to disdain. “I didn’t do this for you,” she said flatly before leaning back against the wall, her arms crossed as if daring anyone to challenge her.
Caitlyn exhaled shakily, her shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension ebbed. She looked at Jinx, gratitude flickering in her tear-bright eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity that cut through the lingering charge in the air.
Jinx shrugged, but her gaze lingered on Caitlyn for a moment longer, her sharp edges dulling ever so slightly. “Don’t mention it,” she said, her tone lighter but still gruff, as if brushing off the significance of her actions.
Ashe, however, remained focused on the wall, her expression unreadable as she studied the residual energy still glowing faintly in the fractures. Finally, she turned her gaze back to the group, her icy demeanor thawing just enough to betray a flicker of acknowledgment. “Now you have my attention,” she said, her tone quieter but no less commanding. “If this is the power you’re chasing, then we must move quickly. There’s no telling how much worse it could become.”
Caitlyn turned her head slightly, shielding her face from the group as she quickly wiped her eyes with the edge of her glove. Her jaw tightened as she drew in a steadying breath, forcing herself to focus. When she turned back to the table, her expression was composed, her hands deliberate as they moved to the tracking device. With a quiet hum, she activated it, and the familiar projection flickered to life. A faint glowing map stretched across the table’s surface, revealing their current position and a pulsing dot to the east.
“The gemstone’s energy signature,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice steadier now. “It’s just east of here.”
Ashe’s ice-blue eyes narrowed, her sharp features hardening as recognition flashed across her face. “Delverhold,” she said, her tone measured yet grim. “That fortress belongs to Darius, one of Noxus’s most ruthless generals. If the gemstone is east of there…” Her voice trailed off, and a shadow passed over her expression. “It could mean Ambessa is bringing it to him.”
The words settled over the group like a chill deeper than the Freljord’s icy winds. Caitlyn’s sharp eyes flicked to Ashe, noting the subtle shift in her posture—the way her fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the table, a rare display of tension. Ashe was a woman of unshakable composure, but even the mention of Darius seemed to unnerve her.
Mel, seated across from Caitlyn, stiffened at Ashe’s statement. She straightened in her chair, her golden eyes narrowing in thought. Before she could speak, Ashe’s piercing gaze locked onto her, sharp and unyielding. “Tell me,” Ashe said, her tone calm but carrying the weight of authority. “Is that a possibility? Would Ambessa seek Darius’s help?”
Mel hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough to be noticeable. Her hands, resting on the table, tightened into faint fists before she forced herself to relax. “Darius commands immense power and loyalty,” she said carefully, her voice carrying a faint edge of steel. “If Ambessa believes she needs an ally to protect the gemstone—or to wield its power—he is the most logical choice. Their history is… complicated, but ambition often overrides old grievances.”
Ashe leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable as she processed Mel’s words. Her gaze never left Mel’s, sharp and calculating, as though she were searching for the slightest hint of deceit. “Complicated,” Ashe echoed, the word laced with quiet skepticism. “And yet, she would trust him with something as volatile as this gemstone?”
Mel exhaled slowly, her composure faltering for just a moment before she steadied herself. “Ambessa doesn’t trust easily, but she knows how to leverage power. If she believes aligning with Darius furthers her goals, she’ll take the risk.”
The tension in the room thickened, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the walls as the weight of the conversation pressed down on them all. Caitlyn’s eyes remained on the projection, the pulsing dot marking their destination like a beacon of both hope and danger. “If Darius has the gemstone,” Caitlyn said finally, her voice quiet but resolute, “then we’re walking into the lion’s den.”
Jinx, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, let out a low whistle. “Sounds like fun,” she muttered, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s crash the party.”
Caitlyn shot her a look, but her focus quickly returned to the map. Time was running out, and every moment they hesitated brought the gemstone—and Vi—further from their reach.
Jinx clapped her hands together, breaking the tension in the room with startling brightness. “Good,” she said, her grin so wide it bordered on manic. “I’ve been itching for a fight anyway.” She leaned against the wall where Ashe’s bow rested, her fingers twitching with barely-contained energy, as if she could already feel the chaos brewing in her mind. The excitement in her eyes was almost unnerving against the heavy, somber mood of the room.
Caitlyn’s head snapped toward her, the sharpness in her glare enough to freeze anyone else in their tracks. “Jinx,” she said, her voice low but biting, “this isn’t a game.” The tension in her tone cut through the space between them. “Delverhold isn’t some playground for your chaos. It’s a fortress—one filled with soldiers who won’t hesitate to kill us the moment we’re spotted.”
Jinx tilted her head, utterly unfazed by Caitlyn’s frustration. She let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes like a petulant child. “Yeah, yeah, Cupcake,” she muttered, waving Caitlyn off with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Big scary fortress, deadly soldiers, blah, blah, blah. I get it. You’re no fun.” Her grin crept back, sharper now. “But you’re forgetting one very important thing.”
Caitlyn’s patience visibly frayed, her fingers tightening into fists as she demanded, “And what’s that?”
Jinx pushed off the wall, her movements fluid and unnervingly confident as she leaned closer to Caitlyn. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, the chaotic energy practically radiating off her. “I’m really, really good at breaking into places I’m not supposed to be,” she said, her grin widening impossibly further. With a playful wink, she added, “Trust me, I’m basically an artist when it comes to sneaking in and blowing stuff up.”
Caitlyn stared at her, her frustration colliding with a reluctant acknowledgment of the truth in Jinx’s words. As much as Caitlyn hated to admit it, Jinx’s particular brand of madness might be their best shot at penetrating a fortress like Delverhold. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. “Just… don’t make things worse,” she muttered, her voice laced with exasperation.
Jinx smirked, tapping the side of her head as if to reassure Caitlyn. “Relax, Cupcake. I’ve got this.” But the mischievous glint in her eyes made it clear that her idea of ‘having this’ might be a little too explosive for comfort.
Jinx became clearly uninterested in the strategic back-and-forth between Ashe, Mel, and Caitlyn, returned to her spot against the wall, lounging with an exaggerated nonchalance. She leaned her shoulder lazily against the cold stone, her eyes flicking between the group at the table and the bow resting just within arm’s reach. The low hum of the conversation faded into white noise for her; she wasn’t interested in discussions of Darius, fortresses, or gemstones. No, her focus was singular, drawn to the sleek, frost-kissed curves of Ashe’s bow. It practically called to her, radiating an icy elegance that seemed to mock her with its unattainable perfection.
Her fingers twitched, the compulsion building as she stared at it. The intricate carvings along the bow’s frame seemed alive in the flickering firelight, each detail begging for closer inspection. Jinx’s grin spread slowly across her face, a sharp, mischievous thing. ‘Just a little touch won’t hurt, right?’ she thought to herself, though she already knew better.
Ashe, deeply engaged in the conversation with Mel and Caitlyn about the potential risks of approaching Delverhold, didn’t miss a thing. Though her sharp, ice-blue eyes remained trained on the map on the table, her awareness of Jinx’s antics never wavered. Her keen peripheral vision caught the slight shift in Jinx’s posture as she leaned ever so slightly closer to the bow. Without turning her head, Ashe’s lips curled into the faintest of smirks—a knowing, almost amused expression that betrayed her expectation of what would happen next.
Oblivious to Ashe’s watchful eye, Jinx’s hand inched closer, her fingertips hovering over the bow’s polished surface. The firelight danced across the frost-like etchings, and her grin widened in anticipation. Her inner monologue egged her on: ‘Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s just a bow. A fancy, magical, probably-dangerous bow, but still… it’s worth it.’
Finally, unable to resist the temptation, Jinx’s fingers brushed against the bow’s surface.
The reaction was immediate—and far from subtle.
The bow flared to life with an icy, ethereal glow, its frost-kissed carvings igniting in a brilliant cascade of blue light. The air around it seemed to chill instantly, the temperature dropping as a burst of freezing energy surged through Jinx’s hand and shot up her arm. She yelped, recoiling as if she’d been struck by lightning, clutching her hand to her chest as frost crystals formed along her sleeve. “Ow! What the hell?” she exclaimed, glaring at the bow like it had betrayed her.
The light of the bow dimmed, returning to its dormant state as Ashe finally turned her head fully toward Jinx. Her expression was calm, composed—but her smirk remained, barely concealed. “It’s not meant to be touched by just anyone,” Ashe said smoothly, her voice carrying a note of dry amusement. “The bow chooses its wielder. And it appears you’ve been… rejected.”
Jinx scowled, shaking her arm as the frost began to melt, droplets of water soaking into her glove. “Yeah, well, your stupid bow could’ve warned me,” she muttered, her pride clearly more wounded than her hand.
Ashe’s smirk deepened as she returned her attention to the table, her voice casual as she remarked, “It did. You just weren’t listening.”
Jinx scowled, blowing on her reddened palm as if that might soothe the pain. “Well, your stupid bow could’ve given me a better heads-up,” she grumbled, her tone equal parts wounded pride and irritation. She examined her hand, the angry burn etched into her skin like a reminder of her impulsiveness. “How was I supposed to know it was booby-trapped?”
Caitlyn, who had been watching the spectacle with growing exasperation, was already digging through her pack. She pulled out a small medical kit and strode over to Jinx, her expression a mix of annoyance and concern. “Sit down,” she ordered briskly, her tone sharp as she grabbed Jinx’s wrist. Despite the authority in her voice, her movements were careful as she guided Jinx to a nearby bench.
Jinx flopped down with exaggerated drama, cradling her hand. “I don’t need a lecture, Cait,” she muttered, though there was no real heat in her words.
Caitlyn ignored her, inspecting the burn with practiced efficiency. The injury wasn’t deep, but the redness and swelling were enough to make her frown. She reached for a small jar of salve, her fingers steady as she unscrewed the lid. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, her voice tight with frustration as she dabbed the cooling ointment onto Jinx’s palm.
Jinx hissed at the initial sting but quickly settled, her usual bravado creeping back into her voice. “It looked cool. Didn’t think it’d bite,” she said with a shrug, flashing Caitlyn a sheepish grin.
Caitlyn muttered something under her breath, her words unintelligible but clearly less than flattering. She shook her head, her frustration evident as she reached for a bandage. “Try not to get yourself killed before we even start,” she said sharply, though her tone softened as she began wrapping Jinx’s hand. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her movements precise and efficient.
Jinx watched her with a lopsided grin, her eyes twinkling with mischief despite the pain. “You’re so cute when you’re mad,” she teased, her voice light and playful. “I mean, I get it—you’re worried about me. I’m flattered.”
Caitlyn’s hands paused for a moment before she let out an exasperated sigh. “Jinx, I swear—”
“Relax, Cupcake,” Jinx interrupted, her grin widening as she wiggled her bandaged fingers. “I’ll behave. For now. But seriously, that bow? Total drama queen. Perfect match for Ice Queen over there.” She jerked her head toward Ashe, who was observing the scene with a faintly bemused expression.
Ashe remained silent, her posture regal as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her gaze lingered on Jinx for a moment, her amusement still evident in the faint quirk of her lips. “Consider yourself fortunate,” Ashe said finally, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Had the bow deemed you a threat, the consequences would have been far more severe.”
Jinx raised an eyebrow, her grin undiminished. “Oh, i think I love you,” she said, her tone laced with admiration. “You’ve got this whole mysterious, deadly vibe going on. If the bow thing doesn’t work out, you could totally do stand-up.”
Caitlyn groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she finished securing the bandage. “No promises, huh?” she muttered, shooting Jinx a glare.
Jinx laughed, flexing her bandaged hand experimentally. “No promises,” she echoed, her grin as irrepressible as ever. “But thanks for patching me up, Cupcake. You’re the best.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. “Just try not to touch anything else,” she said dryly, packing away the medical kit.
Jinx leaned back on the bench, completely unbothered. “What? I’ve totally learned my lesson. No touching mystical murder bows. Got it.” Her grin turned mischievous as she added, “Unless they’re really shiny. Then all bets are off.”
As Caitlyn sighed and Ashe turned back to the map, Jinx shot one last playful glance at the bow. “Drama queen,” she muttered under her breath, though the glint in her eyes betrayed a newfound respect for the weapon—and its wielder.
The heavy wooden doors to the longhouse creaked open, the chill wind rushing in as a tall, broad-shouldered man strode inside. His presence filled the space instantly, commanding attention without a word. He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had walked through countless battles and emerged unbroken, his fur-lined armor dusted with snow and his massive sword strapped across his back. His dark hair was wild from the elements, and a faint scar carved across his jaw added to his rugged, intimidating appearance.
But when his eyes landed on Ashe, his entire demeanor shifted. The sharpness in his gaze softened, and his stern expression melted into something warmer, more personal. He crossed the hall in a few long strides, his attention fixed solely on the woman before him. Ashe, her composed façade momentarily cracking, offered him a faint, genuine smile as she stepped toward him. The room seemed to fade away as the two met in the center of the hall. Without hesitation, they leaned their foreheads together, a silent gesture of unity and understanding. It was a moment of quiet intimacy, one that spoke volumes about the bond they shared.
Ashe felt a quiet wave of relief wash over her as he stepped into the hall, his broad frame cutting an imposing silhouette against the firelight. but the sight of him steadied her, like a glacier holding firm against the fiercest winds. His presence was a reminder that she wasn’t carrying the weight of the Freljord alone. His strength had always been a constant, a shield against the chaos of their world. He was the one person she could trust implicitly, not just as a warrior, but as a partner who understood the sacrifices they both made. Though their bond had been forged out of necessity, over time it had become something she depended on in moments like this—when the storm within her threatened to break. He was here, and for that, Ashe allowed herself a fleeting sense of peace.
Jinx, who had been leaning back on her bench, immediately sat up straighter, her glowing eyes narrowing. She jabbed a finger in their direction, her voice cutting through the hushed atmosphere. “Who the fuck is this guy? And why is he touching my future wife?” she demanded, her tone a mix of outrage and disbelief.
Caitlyn groaned, already regretting the inevitable chaos that would follow. “Jinx, for the love of—can you not?” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Jinx ignored her entirely, her focus locked on the man like a dragon sizing up a rival. “Seriously, does he think he can just stroll in here with his big sword and his brooding vibe and—ugh—look at them!” she exclaimed, her hands flailing in exasperation. “It’s disgusting. They’re all… cute or whatever.”
Mel, raised an eyebrow but chose not to intervene, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips. Even Ashe, her forehead still pressed lightly to man’s, seemed to register Jinx’s outburst. She tilted her head slightly, her icy blue eyes flicking toward Jinx with a mixture of amusement and patience.
“Tryndamere,” Ashe said calmly, her voice carrying an undertone of quiet affection, “meet our… guests.” Her gaze lingered on Jinx for a moment, her lips twitching faintly as though suppressing a smile. “They’ve been… entertaining.”
Tryndamere straightened, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the assembled group. His expression hardened slightly, though it lacked hostility. Instead, it was the protective scrutiny of someone weighing the threat level of those near someone he clearly valued. “Guests,” he repeated, his deep voice carrying a low rumble. His sharp gaze settled on Jinx, who was still glaring at him with a look that could curdle milk.
“Guests who know how to make an entrance,” Mel interjected smoothly, attempting to steer the conversation before Jinx could escalate things further.
Jinx, however, was not to be dissuaded. She jabbed a thumb in Tryndamere’s direction, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, great, he talks, too. Fantastic. Let me guess—‘I’m the big tough guy who fights stuff and broods a lot.’ Got it. We’re all very impressed.”
Caitlyn buried her face in her hands as Ashe arched an eyebrow at Jinx, clearly unruffled. Tryndamere, for his part, simply gave Jinx a long, unamused look before returning his attention to Ashe. “Interesting company you’ve brought,” he said, his tone dry.
“You have no idea,” Ashe replied, her voice light with understated humor. She turned back to the group, her expression composed once more. “Tryndamere is my partner,” she explained, her words simple but firm. “And he’s here because I trust him.”
Jinx crossed her arms, her scowl deepening. “Partner? You mean ‘husband’ partner or, like, ‘we fight bad guys together’ partner? Because one of those I can live with, and the other…” She let her words trail off, her glare doing the rest of the talking.
“Jinx,” Caitlyn hissed, her voice a warning.
Tryndamere glanced at Ashe, his lips quirking in a faint, knowing smile. “Husband,” he said simply, his deep voice carrying a note of finality.
Jinx groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. “Ugh. Why is it always the hot ones?” she muttered, slumping back onto the bench. Her tone was laced with mock devastation, though the mischievous glint in her eyes remained. “Fine. Whatever. He’s got the sword, I’ve got the explosives. I’ll win her over eventually.” She glanced at Caitlyn, grinning slyly. “What do you think, Cupcake? We’d make a killer couple.”
Caitlyn didn’t dignify that with a response, though the look she shot Jinx promised retribution later. Tryndamere, meanwhile, simply shook his head, clearly deciding that addressing Jinx directly wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, he turned back to Ashe, his expression softening once more.
“Shall we?” Ashe asked him, her tone quietly affectionate.
Tryndamere nodded, stepping closer to stand at her side. Together, they made an imposing pair—a seamless combination of strength and grace that seemed to command the room without effort. Caitlyn could see the bond between them, unspoken but palpable, and despite herself, she felt a twinge of respect.
Jinx, however, was still sulking. “I don’t care how cool his sword is,” she muttered under her breath, shooting Tryndamere one last glare. “I’m still her favorite.” She couldn’t let this stand
She shot up from her seat with such force that the bench beneath her wobbled precariously. All eyes turned toward her as she jabbed an accusing finger in Ashe’s direction, her eyes blazing with a mix of disbelief and fury. “Him?” she exclaimed, her voice ringing out across the hall. “Him of all people? Come on!”
She whirled around, throwing her arms up in the air in exaggerated exasperation. “Big sword, broody face, scars—yeah, okay, real original, Frost Queen! Couldn’t find anyone less… generic?” Jinx gestured wildly at Tryndamere, her hands flailing like she was conducting an invisible orchestra of chaos. “He looks like he walked out of a poster for ‘How to Be a Moody Barbarian in 10 Easy Steps.’ Did he grunt his way into your heart, or was it the flexing? Oh, let me guess—he rescued a puppy or something. Classic.”
Tryndamere’s brows furrowed slightly as he glanced at Ashe, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Is she… always like this?” he asked in a low, cautious tone, as if trying to gauge whether Jinx was a legitimate threat or just completely unhinged.
“Yes,” Caitlyn and Mel said in unison, their voices flat with exhaustion.
Jinx wasn’t done. She spun back toward Ashe, her glowing eyes wide with theatrical despair. “You—you’re Ashe!” she shouted, her voice practically cracking with emotion. “A goddess of ice and arrows and badassery, and this is your choice?!” She pointed at Tryndamere again, her finger shaking as though she couldn’t physically hold back her indignation. “Where’s the poetry? The flair? The explosions? You could’ve had anyone—anyone!—and you went with the first guy who looks like he could bench-press a yak! I mean, come on!”
Caitlyn buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she muttered something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience. Mel, on the other hand, leaned back slightly and crossed her arms, watching Jinx’s meltdown with the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Ashe remained as composed as ever, though her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced at Tryndamere, whose bemusement was quickly giving way to irritation.
Jinx took a step forward, planting her hands on her hips as she continued her tirade. “What does he even bring to the table, huh? Besides brooding and swinging that big ol’ sword around like it’s compensating for something?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, her voice dropping to a mock-conspiratorial whisper as she leaned toward Ashe. “Does he even ‘get’your whole ice queen vibe? Like, does he write you poetry about the frost or sing you ballads under the moonlight? Because I could ‘totally’ do that. I mean, they’d be… chaotic ballads, sure, but they’d be from the heart!”
Tryndamere’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
Jinx completely ignored Tryndamere’s looming presence, her attention locked solely on Ashe. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face, wild and unrestrained as her tone took on a teasing, provocative edge. “Tell you what, Frosty,” she purred, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall with a casual arrogance, her eyes roaming over Ashe like she was appraising a piece of fine art. “At least let me join. Imagine it—you, me, and Mr. Muscles over there.” She waved dismissively in Tryndamere’s direction without sparing him a glance. “I’ll bring the fireworks, he can grunt and look angry in the background, and you…” Jinx’s grin widened, her voice dropping suggestively, “…you can just keep being you. Tall, icy, and completely jaw-dropping.”
Her gaze lingered shamelessly on Ashe, taking in every curve of the warrior’s form before locking onto her piercing blue eyes. “Win-win, right?” she added with a wink, her grin now teetering on the edge of predatory. “And hey, if you ever get tired of Muscles over there, I’m happy to step in. Bet I can warm you up better than he can.”
For a moment, the hall was silent, the tension so thick it could’ve been cut with one of Ashe’s arrows. Caitlyn looked ready to explode, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the table. Mel, to her credit, maintained her composure, though her lips quirked in a way that suggested she was thoroughly entertained. Tryndamere, however, had reached his limit. His glare could have melted a glacier, and his hand shifted to the hilt of his sword.
Ashe held up a hand, stopping Tryndamere before he could speak. Her icy blue eyes settled on Jinx, sharp and unyielding. There was no anger in her gaze, only a calm, almost pitying patience, like a teacher addressing an unruly student. “You are bold,” Ashe said, her voice cool and steady, though there was a faint edge of amusement beneath her words. “Foolish, but bold.”
Jinx’s grin only widened. “Oh, you have no idea,” she said with a wink, completely ignoring the weight of Ashe’s gaze.
Caitlyn groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she muttered, “I am going to throw her into the snow and leave her there.”
Tryndamere’s patience, already stretched thin, finally snapped. His massive hands slammed onto the edge of the table, the sound reverberating through the hall like a thunderclap. The sheer force sent plates and goblets clattering, and the warriors nearest to him instinctively tensed, their hands inching toward their weapons. “Enough!” he roared, his deep voice echoing with unrestrained fury. His piercing gaze locked onto Jinx, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. “One more word, and I will personally end this farce!”
Caitlyn instinctively moved to intervene, stepping forward with her hand on the strap of her rifle. “Jinx,” she hissed sharply, her tone pleading, “stop—before you get yourself killed.”
But Jinx, as always, was undeterred. In fact, the display of Tryndamere’s anger only seemed to amuse her further. Her wild grin stretched even wider, as she leaned casually against the table, propping her chin in her hand as if Tryndamere’s threat were nothing more than a dinner party argument. “What’s the matter, big guy?” she taunted, her tone dripping with mockery. “Afraid your queen might realize she’s too good for you?”
Tryndamere’s fists curled tighter, his knuckles white against the table as his body tensed, every muscle coiled. The room fell deadly silent, the crackling of the central hearth the only sound. Ashe straightened, her icy gaze snapping to Tryndamere, her expression calm but commanding. Still, Jinx couldn’t stop herself.
“Oh, and let’s talk about that strut,” Jinx continued, her glowing eyes darting to Ashe with unrepentant glee. She gestured wildly toward Ashe’s retreating form, her grin taking on a teasing edge. “That walk she’s got? The hips, the sway? You’re telling me you don’t lose sleep over that, Mr. Muscles? Because I’m not gonna lie—it’s practically hypnotic. Seriously, Frosty, teach me how to walk like that.”
Tryndamere’s restraint shattered. His chair screeched back as he stood, towering over the table, his sword drawn in a single, fluid motion. His glare was like a physical force, heavy and suffocating, as he pointed the blade in Jinx’s direction. “You dare—”
“Enough.” Ashe’s voice rang out like a crack of ice splitting a frozen lake. It wasn’t loud, but it carried a chilling authority that froze the entire room. The hall fell silent as all eyes turned to her, including Tryndamere’s.
Ashe stepped forward, placing herself between Tryndamere and Jinx with a poise that bordered on regal. Her pale blue eyes, steady and unwavering, locked onto Tryndamere’s. She didn’t raise her voice, but the weight of her command was unmistakable. “Stand down,” she said, her tone low and firm, leaving no room for argument.
Tryndamere’s jaw tightened, his grip still firm on the hilt of his sword. For a moment, it seemed as though he might resist, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back. But then Ashe reached out, resting a gloved hand gently on his chest. The simple gesture, combined with the steady calm in her gaze, was enough to break through the haze of his anger. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, and his sword was returned to its sheath with a quiet shhhk.
Ashe kept her hand on Tryndamere’s chest for a moment longer, a silent reassurance. “You do not need to prove anything here,” she said softly, her voice just for him. “This is beneath you.”
Tryndamere exhaled sharply, the tension in his body finally ebbing away. He gave a short nod, his gaze dropping to Ashe, then flicking briefly to Jinx, who was still grinning like a cat that had just knocked a vase off a shelf.
Ashe turned to Jinx next, her expression as cold and sharp as the winds outside. “You’ve had your fun,” she said, her voice like frost creeping over glass. “But if you speak out of turn again, there will be consequences.”
Jinx leaned back, throwing her hands up in mock surrender, though her grin didn’t waver. “Fine, fine,” she said, her tone still light and teasing. “But come on, admit it—you were a little impressed by me.”
Ashe’s piercing gaze lingered on Jinx for a long moment, unreadable and steady. “You mistake recklessness for charm,” she said coolly. “Don’t make that mistake again.”
Caitlyn, who had been holding her breath through the entire exchange, finally let it out in a slow, shaky exhale. She glared at Jinx, her patience visibly frayed. “Do you ever think before you speak?” she snapped, her voice low but seething.
Jinx shrugged, unbothered as always. “Where’s the fun in that?” she replied with a wink before flopping back into her chair as if nothing had happened.
Tryndamere, still visibly annoyed, crossed his arms and glanced at Ashe, his voice a low rumble. “You put up with this?”
Ashe’s lips quirked faintly, the barest hint of amusement breaking through her icy demeanor. “Only because she’s useful. For now.”