Hey guys, I'm writing a new Riven fan fiction for you, since she's one of my favourite champions in LoL (and because the servers are acting up and I got disconnected with a 1 day ban even though it wasn't my fault). It's going to take you along Riven's journey, in her exile and explain some of her backstory. It tells of a tale of how she discovers a mysterious disappearance and a conspiracy rising in the name of Demacia. Some other champions (mainly Talon; he's one of my favourite champs as well) will appear. This stuff never happened in lore, but I just had the idea to write it. I'll try updating it with one chapter every week (or if I get the chance, 2-3 a week), and I'll post them all up on this thread. I hope you guys check it out and like it, because without people to read it, it's pretty useless just writing it on the forums for no one to see. So, without further ado, The Shadow of Exile : A Riven/Talon fan fiction.
Chapter 1 : Forging a New Dawn
Riven glanced wistfully towards her broken blade for perhaps the hundredth time; the last remnant of her shattered past. A hilt, and the shards of a once great rune blade. So long ago, yet so close as well. It was something she would never forget; the day her past was broken, and her future forged. It was a scar in her mind. The vision so clear as if it had happened no more than a day ago. And in a sense, it had.
Riven had lost all sense of time. Now she wandered, alone in the wild. No one paid heed to her anymore. No one knew her anymore, her and her past. She had promised herself of a new life... and yet, how could she hope for one if her past was still there, clinging like a shadow in the sun's light?
Wearily, she sat, the blade clattering down beside her with a dull thunk. The hard, compact dirt was painful to rest upon, but it was better than standing.
Singed, she thought bitterly.
Nigh on three months it was, yet Riven did not know that. The influence of Noxus had been spreading like a plague. The Noxian invasion had been going well, and Riven had been charged with a large unit of Noxian units, invading Ionian ground. The battle had seemed won... and yet... The Ionian forces were giving way, Riven's Noxian units forcing their way in in a powerful dash. Their captain, a powerful Ionian general fell back, his shoulder throbbing painfully from one of Riven's unrelenting strokes.
Riven followed, dashing forth in a great leap. Almost. As she landed, she and her unit together found themselves trapped, flanked on either side by a huge Ionian reserve.
"We need help!" one of Riven's soldiers cried desperately.
"You filthy bastard," Riven growled.
Yet she blamed herself. In all the glory of the moment, she had forgotten all that she had been tought, rushing in. But she would not die without blood on her blade. As she charged the Ionian general, she was met with a blast. Rushing in, Singed flung a terrible heap of biochemical barrages, red and green toxic slime flying in copious amounts. The screams of the living, Noxian forces and Ionian alike, fell in with the mad cackling of Singed. Coughing, Riven fought desperately through the rising debris and green substance that floated through the air, crawling desperately to any source of air she could find.
"You won't get away that easily!"
A jar was flung toward her. Riven turned, smashing the jar with her rune blade, and striking Singed across the side. A scream sounded, and a red jar clattered to the floor.
As the red dust rose, Riven dashed away, faster than she had ever run in her life. And somehow, she found herself in clean air, gasping as the great heaves of breath filled her lungs.
As the sun died away to the light of the moon, Riven stood, standing beside the fading shadow of the mountainside. She had lost everything. Her life. Her forces, that Jericho, high general of Noxus, himself had trusted her with. She stared toward her rune blade, his greatest gift to her.
She had never failed him. Never. But most of all, she had never failed herself like that. Jericho hadn't even recognized her when she had gone to him after the battle. He had thrown her out of his land, screamed at her, roared at her. He had said that Riven was dead, dead in that battle. When she had shown him the rune blade, his fury had flared and he'd thrown her out. The painful truth shone down like the moonlight's mocking rays.
Riven was gone. Riven was dead in the eyes of Jericho,and all of Noxus. Yet Riven stood, anything but dead.
A terrible heart wrenching cry was torn from her, as she collapsed to the ground. It was the sound of a tortured soul, of conflicting emotions that wracked her mind.
Screaming once more, she lashed out towards the mountain in fury and despair. A terrible shattering sound filled her ears, and shards of her beautiful green blade went flying. A terrible dull pain sprang into her arm, yet she didn't care. She collapsed to the ground, suddenly aware of how tired she was.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
That had been three months ago. Still it was fresh in Riven's mind, as she remembered those grim moments. Her arm had healed, yet her true pain of mind had never fully.
She sighed, as the air came alive with the music of the night animals. The dusty plains would be her home. All of Valoran, and Runeterra was her home now.
Her eyelids shut half closed, the dying wind following her into her sleep.
"I didn't expect to find you here."
She wasn't sure whether it was the sound of the familiar voice, or the faint whistle of a blade cleaving through the air. Maybe it was both. But she found herself spinning through the air, blade in hand, expecting to come face to face with a foe. Perhaps it was Singed. Perhaps her vengeance would come at last. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. If this was to be her last fight, she would die with blood on her blade.
"Relax, is that any way to treat one of Noxus's greatest assassins?"
She turned, eyes adjusting in the darkness... and found herself face to face with Talon, calm and still as ever.
Chapter 2 : The Demacian Conspiracy
Talon's blade was pressed against Riven's throat; a crude, cold piece of metal. There was a tired, bored, almost lazy expression lingering in his eyes, and he held his blade with one arm extended. The other held Riven's shattered blade, pulling her forward and holding it right by his leg.
"Everyone in Noxus thinks you've been dead for three months, killed in the Noxian Invasion," he told her. His voice is devoid of emotion; he isn't saying it with relief, nor disappointment, merely stating a fact.
"I wish I were dead, it would save me from so much shame," she said in a voice almost inaudible and lowering her eyes. Then, she raised them, and met Talon eye to eye. "How'd you even recognize me?"
Riven had only seen Talon once. She remembered the day, the very day she'd been gifted for the first time with her own blade. It was a dull longsword, dull and ordinary, yet Riven had been ecstatic. She had been given that sword before most boys could even lift one. Yet that day, Talon had come along with the most trusted agents of the Noxian High Command, even General Du Couteau himself and his daughter, Katarina, had shown up on that day.
Curious, she had followed them to a small chamber deep within Jericho Swain's own headquarters. At first, she heard the clash of steel on steel. Then, she saw them, hacking away at each other. Riven stopped, stooping along the balcony with a clear view. Her first impulse told her to cry for help, anything to quell that horrible angry keening of the blades' clash.
Yet she stood calm as a river lily, hiding in the shadows, watching. She was a warrior, she kept reminding herself. Someday she would have to do this herself.
Talon, garbed in a short swaying cloak, and a large blue hood, flew across the room in a flurry of blades. Somehow, Katarina stood her place, checking each strike and lashing out herself. Then, Talon disappeared from view. There was the dull clang of metal, and one of Katarina's blade went whirling through the air, disarmed and Talon's blade at her throat.
"Well done," General Du Couteau said gruffly.
"That Flash caught me off guard there," Katarina said, completely winded.
Talon stood, removing the blade, calm and placid as ever. There was a soft clatter of footsteps, and the door behind Riven opened up, a small rectangle of light filtering through.
"That's enough practicing, I have urgent business to discuss," Jericho Swain's cold, emotionless voice drifted across the room and all sound was lost.
Riven dashed away, hoping she had not been seen.
Riven almost smiled at the memory. She hadn't though anyone had seen her, yet now it seems Talon recognized her enough.
"Everyone knows Riven, one of the best swordfighters Valoran's ever seen," he said. "And I seem to recall a young girl with short white hair like yours, eavesdropping on me all those years ago."
Riven felt her cheeks turn red.
"Why are you out here?" she asked, shifting the subject onto a different ground. Talon's face darkened.
"Rumour is, that foolish Demacian scum king, Jarvan, has set up a new secret fortress in the mountains," he nearly spat out the words, so full of loathing. "Apparently, he's planning a devastating strike on Noxus. Katarina thinks this has to do with her father's disappearance."
A few months ago, General Du Couteau had gone missing. Many smallfolk still assumed he was dead, yet Katarina clung onto the desperate hope that her father was still alive. She knew Jarvan had something to do with it.
The mountains were nearby now; a distant speck on the horizon. A nights travel, and they could reach it.
"So your planning on going for the mountains?"
"I have a mind to see what this is all about," he admitted. "If it's just rumour or if it's true. I'll be meeting up with Katarina at the base of the mountains near dawn. Best I'm off now, or I'll be late."
He turned away, setting off for the road.
Riven raised a hand in farewell. "Good luck."
Talon raised his own hand, yet he didn't look back. His eyes were fixed on the road.
Riven stayed, lingering in the barren wasteland for a few minutes thinking. Here was a chance for a new path to be reforged for her. Yet could she take it? She did not know. She didn't think she ever would. All that Riven had held dear had been taken from her. She couldn't simply forget that, could she?
"Wait!" Riven screamed out into the air.
Talon was only a speck now, his cloak billowing in the air like a flag; the only sign of him. She dashed toward his disappearing figure with all the speed that she could muster.
"Wait!" She screamed again, as she neared him.
He did not stop. She collapsed into the dirt, utterly exhausted. He was gone, out of sight now. How could she let this happen? A tear sprang into her eye, yet she brushed it away angrily, to furious with herself to cry.
It had been her chance, her only chance. And now that chance was away like the wind, blown away from her. Were the gods this merciless? She did not know.
Riven remembered a time in her grief, when she had struck a mountain in her anger. It seemed like that anger was at her very fingertips. She felt something touch her shoulder, yet she swatted it away angrily. The gods had sent more insects to plague her, she thought bitterly. Then a hand took her own, clutching it tightly and hauling her to her feet.
"I don't suppose you'd join me?" Talon's face was set, determined as ever yet for the first time in her life, she thought he looked almost kind.
And she laughed, for the first time in months. Maybe it was madness. Maybe all the will had been driven out of her, and she was now as crazy as Singed. All Riven knew, was that it was good to laugh again.
And as she set off with Talon, Riven was aware of a weight leaving her shoulders, a burden she had not realized had been there. It was like the song of the night animals; like walking out of a dream. And suddenly the insects, the crickets, did not seem so vile anymore.
For a second, she stood straight, feeling almost tall. Riven realized what it was. For the first time in years, she was at peace. And she was glad.
Chapter 3 : A Blade in the Night
Four months ago
Three shadows, still on the wind, stood silent as ever, watching the palace grounds closely. For a moment they lingered, the only sound the howling of the wind, as if aware of their foul presence in Demacia. Then their leader began to edge forward, carefully at first, and then with renewed speed.
There was the sound of heavy feet on the earth; a guard came round the bend of the alley, holding a long pike at hand.
He studied the long grime filled road with suspicious eyes. Then, seeing nothing, he turned.
There was a hiss of leather and steel; the guard fell dead with a grunt, a long knife embedded along his spine. General Du Couteau bent to retrieve the blade, and then they were off again.
The ground soared up to meet them, rising in a bend that sloped up into the large road to the Jarvan's keep. They sprinted down the alley with unmatched speed. Dark murky puddles of water rose up in front of them, the ground was hard and compact; they made no sound but the leathery flight of a night bird.
The huge granite walls of the keep stood before them, two guards watching closely. This night was a night of chance; Garen, Sword of Demacia, lay within the walls for only this night, and this night alone.
Du Couteau licked his dry lips in anticipation, grinning crookedly through the crescent moon's flaying patterns of light and shadow.
With careful steps, he began to climb the wall, finding small cracks otherwise unnoticeable to common folk. He arrived on the battlements without much effort at all, and gazed down into the yard ponderously. A group of soldiers stood there, seven swordsmen playing a game of chance. Of course, it would be a delightfully easy kill, yet here and now, he could not spare the risk; the risk that one of them might sound a scream before he fell dead.
General Du Couteau turned behind him, motioning for the two other assassins to follow. The fall was hard, the fall was high; they made no sound on impact.
Carefully, they ghosted away through the yard, making their way silently behind the guards who seemed to be roaring with laughter. They found their way into the keep, and Du Couteau finally let loose a breath that he had not realized he was holding.
They found Garen's room easily enough; a large pair of double doors, gleaming brightly with all the gems and jeweled inlays.
The General slid a key inside the door, waited for a small click, then proceeded to sift through like the wind, his assassins by his back.
Garen stood, back facing them, studying a large map. His eyes darted this way and that; restless.
Du Couteau struck Garen a blow across the head, a hand clamped across his mouth so that he could not utter a sound. The General looked down calmly.
"Tell me Garen," he said, "how do you wish to die?"
"I don't think you're in any place to say things like that," a new voice told him.
Du Couteau whirled around, lashing out with his free hand. Something caught his wrist, and through the candle light in the room, he saw a face. Jarvan III, king of Demacia, handsome of face, stern of shoulder, and powerful of stature. His hand held the General's wrist hard. His assassins too, were in the same predicament : a host of guards swarmed around them, holding them tight. He cursed. Someone had given away his position. That, or someone had been spying, but Du Couteau felt that he was too aware, too powerful, to be spied upon.
"You know, I should kill you here and now," Jarvan told the General. Du Couteau stared into those eyes calmly, unblinkingly. He was brave in life, and he promised himself, he would be brave in death.
"You should, so why don't you?" he demanded.
"I wonder," the king told him, completely ignoring his question. "What would your daughter think if you should somehow go missing eh?"
Talon motioned with a free hand into the mountains. Riven followed his gaze. It seemed simple enough; a mountain range of barren, cold, hulking pieces of rock. No sign of a Demacian Conspiracy, nor even a soldier in sight.
"Katarina's waiting over there," he told her, "she believes that's where the king's new fortress is."
"So close to the Noxian borders?" she asked, alarmed.
"Yes," Talon told her simply, walking in the direction of the mountains.
As they approached it, Riven still could not see anything. She peered in, frustrated, narrowing her eyes.
"It's hidden well," Talon remarked.
Carefully, he stepped along the mountain path.
Something dropped down. A hand held Riven and Talon by the neck, cold and soft.
"Careful, you don't know who could be watching."
Talon sighed angrily. "I thought I told you to stop doing that Katarina."
Katarina Du Couteau grinned towards them, her red hair flashing in the wind. Riven turned... And Katarina let loose a small gasp.
"Is this... Riven?" she asked uncertainly.
Talon nodded. "She certainly is."
Katarina stepped back uncertainly. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Thanks for that," Riven told her.
"No, sorry, I'm just... a little surprised is all."
Talon motioned with his hand into the mountains. "Well, let's see this Demacian Conspiracy you were talking about."
Katarina nodded, and stepped stiffly along the mountains. For a few minutes, there was no sound, only the constant wind beating at them. There was a crunch, and Katarina turned with a blade in hand.
"Don't be so jumpy, that was only Riven," Talon told her angrily, shoving the knife away.
"I'm not jumpy," Katarina told him, "Only... precautious."
They continued, winding their way upwards. The sun shone hard on the horizon, beaming rays of light down upon them. Then, suddenly, they saw it. A huge towering fortress in the distance, carefully nested between two mountains.
"So it's true," Katarina said grimly.
Talon nodded. "But it's still at least an hour away."
As Katarina moved forward, there was a rumbling noise, and the whole mountain side began to tremor.
"What was that?"
Riven looked at her appoligetically. Rocks began to poor down from the neighbouring mountains, and the path began to churn and shift.
Katarina cursed under her breath, and turned expectantly towards the shadows of the rocks that came down like a waterfall, about to crush them.
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