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Frigid air brushes Tryndamere’s hair askew. Steel eyes sweep across the frozen tundra, seeking out signs of trouble. It is well past the midnight hour, prime time for an ambush from the Winter’s Claw. Just a fortnight earlier they tried to sneak up on his people, and slaughter them while they slumbered.
Rage at their cowardly tactics squeezes his heart. It doesn’t take much these days to cause the spark of unbound rage to ignite. What is different, however, is the balm that soothes down the never ending burning desire to slay into dim embers. For an unknown amount of time after Aatrox did his dastardly slaughter, Tryndamere wandered aimlessly. So many people dead by his hands, because he couldn’t contain the horror in his soul. Who knows how many people would be slain, if he had not met Ashe that fateful day?
Ashes’s keen gaze cuts away his rage. Something about her brings him peace. Quickly he agreed to join her cause, to fight by her side until his death. Tryndamere did not join her because he wants an unified Freljord. No, his reasons are entirely selfish. Only when he is by her side that can he get rest. Hellfires! He’s spared that boar riding bitches life a couple times because of Ashe. If Sejuani hadn’t pressured Ashe with war, then the reason for his political marriage wouldn’t be. If it weren’t for bloody politics, Ashe wouldn’t think twice about marrying him.
Abruptly the wind shifts. It is nearing dawn, his watch is over. Soon enough his replacement takes over. Silently he strides across camp, seeking out his tent. Small flickers of light dance under the entrance flap. Ah, his wife stayed up all night working again! Avarosan people did not deserve Ashe’s dedication. Dim light washes over him, illuminating his gaze as he enters his home. Head tucked in her arms, Ashe slumbers fitfully at her desk. Ink stains her fingers, sleeve, and at least one official document.
One index finger flicks the offending quill away from Ashe. Without warning, Tryndamere scoops her up in his arms. Ashe doesn’t even fully wake, just mumbles softly under her breathe. Carefully he removes her clothing before settling her down in bed. Soon he is naked as well, and he curls up next to her. Gently he cradles her small form against his chest. Shortly after that, sleep slowly starts to descend on him. More often then he would like, he has to tuck his over worked spouse into bed. However, by now it is a calming ritual. A ritual he would not give up easily.