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Ashe, Frost Archer	By : MahMan Category: +G through L > League of Legends Views: 6605 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: i do not own League of Legends, and I make no money from this story. This is only fiction, I do not support violence towards women etc.

Chapter List
- 1-Homecoming
- 2-Bad Encounter
- 1
- 2
*Because it's the first story I release in English, I ask of you readers to tell me if there's any better layout I could use (italic, paragraphs...) so you can read easier and enjoy the story more ! And tell me if you liked it ! Or if you didn't, what went wrong ? (sorry if there is any mistakes or bad sentences, English is not my first language, text is also published in french !)*

*****

The queen of Freljord was smiling blissfully. At the head of the cortege, she was enjoying everyone’s cheers. She welcomed the overwhelming joy of all the happy fools. Leaning over the window, women looked with craving eyes at the handsome and brave soldiers. Men were not in the mood to complain at all : too busy ogling the chief commander, every one of them dreaming of her lips sliding around their girth.
This warm welcome was the result of an undeniable success, although we could as well have described it as inhuman, cowardly or undeserved. Wait, no. “Undeserved”, that would be lying. It had to be acknowledged, the expedition had been planned and led perfectly by Ashe, so young and already so skilled strategist. She had left no chance to the few trolls gathered at the realm’s border by sorceress Lissandra. Her guts urged her to take action as soon as the Avarosan flying watch warned the headquarters of the establishment of the camp. “We should send a spy to gather some useful informations on Lissandra”, proposed a general with a snuffling voice. “He’s right, let’s be patient”, added another one. In other times, Ashe would have let the old fools lull her with advices. These vile men were always happy to protract meetings to greedily leer at her all the time they could. But not this day. Also, she didn’t go meditate pros and cons in the royal garden, before her mother’s grave. No, in this same night, she raised a squad of five hundred men and marched several days towards the plateau occupied by trolls. The army circled around the camp, climbing tight but discrete paths in the rocks. They initiated the onslaught at night, while the majority of trolls were asleep. A straightforward strategy, but such a cowardly one. Efficient, yes, but so despicable. There was no fight just as she planned it : they slaughtered every troll, demonstrating an unbearable cruelty.
For many of the city’s inhabitants, Ashe was more than a war-chief. Her worshipers shouted proudly to anyone how she had brought back prosperity and peace in the realm. They praised how easy it was for her to bring together tribes with ancestral rivalries, using arms when needed, but words most of the time, she preferred. They would list how many tribe’s chiefs and self proclaimed kings she turned from rivals to ally against all odds —the reality being “miraculously”. These successes were so astonishing, some rumors growing in the gutters charged the queen of offering herself to the chiefs in exchange of their allegiance. You could hear in worldly dinners that “Freljord was peaceful, lands were fertile and people were loving their new queen”. Some very fine words. All but true : of course… pillages were a little less frequent since patrols of Avarosan soldiers had stepped foot here and there. On the other hand though, fields were still being destroyed by frost during cold seasons —farmers could always keep hoping for “help”. Finally, any village located further than two passes from the ancestral lands of the Avarosans would hardly know Ashe through anything else than rumors, maybe even the bad ones. In short, citizens of the capital city were really the only ones to eagerly show their support to the queen. The others lived their lives away from these matters, without making much noise. Oh, this grotesque show would have made any sailor from Glaserport laugh hard if he witnessed it. Chin raised, Ashe found her way through the crowd, shouting and whistling at her.
“Hourra ! Long live Avarosa ! Shall the queen be praised, we can thank her for keeping our houses safe.” When she reached the outside walls of the royal palace, Ashe heard a song in her honor rising from the streets. “Oh queen Avarosa, born in ice and frost, riding wing of the bird of stories lost…”
*
Ashe pushed the door of the living room. Tryndamere, husband and king, was sitting near the balcony’s window. He watched as she took her white fur coat off.
“We destroyed the camp and killed every troll, she stated lightly. The mission is a true success. I think we struck Lissandra hard ! People are so happy, did you look through the window ? Men, women and children run to congratulate the warriors.”
The barbarian led a cup of wine to his lips and drank it all. Right after that, he mumbled a few almost unintelligible words through his thick beard.
“Go to the bedroom and prepare yourself. I was waiting for you.”
Ashe froze, legs slightly apart, chin up. She stared at him without moving an inch, silly looking. Only her arched chest was raising to the rhythm of her light breaths. The poor girl was once again struck by Tryndamere’s contempt in regard to her military successes. She was close to show anger but the feeling disappeared as soon as it came up : after all, he didn’t share everyone’s happiness. He didn’t feel victory, she thought. Truth was he didn’t give a royal fuck. Withdrawn in the palace, city’s life was of no interest for him since long.
The Avarosan sovereign had married the barbarian without any passion. Neither did he. It was a wedding of convenience, which sole purpose was to legitimate Ashe as the only queen of Freljord. Tryndamere was the best choice, if not the only viable one : on one side there was Winter’s Claw, people who only knew war. On the other, Lissandra and her trolls were just out the equation. King of no people —barbarians had been slaughtered by an unknown demon years ago, Tryndamere was still seen by many as their rightful leader. Ashe did not seek to extend her army, or she would have looked elsewhere. No, the true power she coveted was symbolic : two of the most iconic heads of Freljord united hand in hand was a statement so strong that there would be no question Ashe was the rightful sovereign of the frost kingdom. The union had sealed a lasting peace in the lands along with protection of the Avarosan soldiers. But this really was nothing but a lull because up there in the citadel, was still hiding Lissandra, the evil sorceress. Weakened but threatening, she was strengthening her army, waiting the perfect moment to spread an other mess in Freljord.
Tryndamere didn’t think twice before agreeing to the queen’s proposal. Opportunist, he had jumped at the chance. With only few people and no army behind him, he would live an easier life alongside the most powerful one… in case of future wars for example. On the other hand, this union had been a great sacrifice for the young and passionate Ashe. She gave up the prospect of a love story and a happy family. Instead, she would live with a barbarian until death and should still assure her progeny in pain and regrets. But Ashe would gladly push these thoughts out of her mind, thinking at the peace that would soon reach all over Freljord. This wedding was only a step further towards her goal, so she refused to see it as a loss. True sacrifices, she had already done. She had lost friends on battlefield. Because of that, she chose to unite Freljord using diplomacy instead of strength and she was now determined to endure anything for her lands.
At the very beginning, Tryndamere had fought by her side, mainly to show good faith. His inhuman strength and rage had helped a lot. During these times, he would still feed on revenge and hatred for the one who had killed his people. But slowly, vehemence turned into laziness. He had left battlefield with no more reason to fight. He had stopped following Ashe in her military expeditions and had retired inside the royal quarters, mute. He still made appearances in official ceremonies to show good health before the subjects, but his mind would not get out of the palace.
*
Ashe turned to the bedroom’s entrance and stepped in. She lighted a few candles that spread a little warmth in the huge room, let to chill since her leaving. The place was artificial, just like the couple. Here and there, a few chest of drawers and in the back, a wardrobe. All very sober in their design. Fur carpets covered the cold stone of the floor and walls. And, in the center of the bedroom, a towering four poster bed was sitting there like a yeti in the middle of a Freljordian boar’s pack. Garish looking and distasteful, yes, but it filled both royal comfort and Freljordian traditions : the mattress was coated with heavy furs, barbarian symbols were woven on the curtains and the carved wood mounting displayed the story of the past queen Avarosa. The bed had been crafted to celebrate the wedding of the two leaders and thus, the union of two “nations”. Ashe liked this bed, as it represented her success.
The royal nightdress was laying on the mattress. It was a silk clothing embellished with graceful motives and seamed with golden thread. The clothing was unique, crafted without a doubt by the finest couturier in all Freljord. Fine pervert and scoundrel too ! The veil, almost transparent, would let very little to the imagination of the shapely curves of the queen. A few embroideries smartly arranged covered nipples and pussy —well… almost. Ashe unlaced her leather corset, then removed hood and tunic. Free, her chest fall against her nude torso. Stretched along her visible ribs, the full breasts seemed to be those of a pregnant woman. Only, Ashe was not and her slender silhouette contrasting with these big cow udders made them look even wider. She unbuckled the belt to which were hanging several pouches and dropped them heavily. Her skirt, retained no more, slided along her tights, leaving her underwear as the sole curtain. Ashe looked down at the clothing and undid the tie. Her fingers guided the fabric over the skin, uncovering the small ash blond bush first. Her pink button appeared, pretty and cute. Then the slit of her pussy, wrapped in waving lips. The young woman raised one foot, then the other and let the clothing fall on the floor. She grabbed the nightie and put it on, pinching one of the spaghetti straps to pull it back over her shoulder. Ashe looked vulnerable, dressed in such a light clothing. This made her even more attracting. The silk tissue rested taut against the plane surface of her chest, then folded on contact with the nipples and fall loose along the abdomen. In her back, the cloth stretched, bending to the shape of her rump, then stopped right at the line where buttocks and thighs met, exposing it.
Tryndamere stepped in the room. He stood still for a few seconds to let his eyes get used to the dim light. Then he walked towards the bed. Getting rid of his boots, undoing the belt and removing his tunic, he threw them all on the back of a chair. He circled around the spring bed and stopped in front of Ashe, his bare muscles flexed. She looked away, as for saying “not impressed”. A rictus appeared on the barbarian’s lips. He loved to play this game : as long as she pretended not to care, he would go further. The underwear was the only thing still covering his crotch, but the round and stretched fabric didn’t let much of his content to the imagination. Tryndamere leaned over his wife and ran a hand behind her neck. His fingers were shaking. Every time he was about to make love, he could feel his senses awake. He approached his mouth and kissed her. Ashe’s lips were frozen and her breath chilly. Scorching, he soon transmitted his warmth. From Ashe’s point of view, it was a nightmare. She felt violated by the intrusive tongue of Tryndamere, for whom all the contempt she had gathered and buried was threatening to burst out. She felt nothing for this man. He wasn’t really handsome, older than her and, not smart at all, did not share her pacifist philosophy. Yet, she let him take advantage of her. In bed, the great peacemaker of Freljord was nothing but a sexual toy for a barbarian with abnormally high libido. Ashe wanted to push him away, but regrets couldn’t give her back the luxury to choose. She had agreed to bear the burden of this wedding to bring tranquility in Freljord. By doing this, she sentenced herself. But she still eased her pain with an unexplained obstinacy to bring peace in the frozen lands. This wedding was a total mess from the inside, but it should look smooth and perfect to the people : a model of respect, happiness and mutual understanding. With peace on the line, risk could not be taken for Tryndamere to be caught cheating on his wife. Such a blunder would have wiped out so many efforts. If the price to prevent it was to satisfy the barbarian’s sexual desires, the young queen was ready to pay it. Also with this union, she had accepted marital duty. And Ashe was very traditionalist, at her expense.
To be honest, she was pretty foolish holding on to these futile principles. Wouldn’t it have been easier to let it go, drown the sacrifice in a torrent of sexual pleasures. For this kind of activities, Tryndamere was not so bad after all : any woman would have traded her farmer husband with him, even for one night. Objectively speaking, the barbarian king was not unpleasantly looking, sexually experimented and pretty well endowed.
But Ashe was definitely stubborn and had decided otherwise. Her loss!
The barbarian had made the opposite choice. He groped her breast through the nightwear, then pulled the fabric down to free it. The boob fall down under its weight, just as minutes ago. Tryndamere weighted the full flesh and his fingers massaged the brown nipple. Despite her contempt, Ashe couldn’t control her body’s natural reaction. The teat quickly hardened and erected. She blushed, shameful and annoyed. Tryndamere loved it. His tongue left the queen’s mouth and ran kisses on her neck, spreading their mixed saliva against the skin. His hot and noisy breaths slowly warmed the archer’s body. He went down even more, to the areola which his lips gulped. He sucked with hunger, —sluuurp! He suctioned the nipple, chew it, twisted it between his teeth. He bit it so hard, the queen uttered a plaintive whining. When he withdrew, the nipple was swollen, drenched in saliva. Raising himself, he grabbed a handful of silver hair and drew her face to his crotch. He pressed Ashe’s cheek against his leg and invited her with a sugary tone to kiss the round fabric. She frowned her nostrils, breathing the smell emanating from the underwear : his body scent mixed with the sweat’s odour was powerful, intoxicating. The queen’s mouth got closer and kissed the tissue a few times against her will. First, on the pair of balls she could guess easily under the round and stretched fabric. And then her lips slid up his flaccid cock, rolled on itself. She covered it with muffled kisses —mouah..! Tryndamere looked at her with undisclosed joy.
Ready to start the action, he ordered Ashe to climb on the bed and lay on her belly. Then he sat over her closed thighs. Her plump ass was opening to him : he took a moment to gaze at it, barely hidden by the royal dress which almost revealed her pussy. Under the near-transparent silk, he could take a glimpse at the firm buttocks. Between them, a line of ash’s blond hair was hiding, almost invisible in the darkness of the bed. He pulled the nightie on Ashe’s hips and instead covered her rump with his squared palms. He brushed the outline of her butt to feel its roundness. Arms wrapped around her head, she cursed her body, whose hair ruffled under the barbarian’s caresses. Ashe’s face turned to surprise when Tryndamere vigorously grabbed her behind. He started to palpate, wiggle and handle the flesh in every way possible. His strong hands kneaded her ass as if it was clay. His fingers entered the skin, sinking in like bird’s claws. Once more, Tryndamere was losing his mind to the hypnotic power of this unique rump. A string of saliva had made its way to the corner of his lips. His blurred eyes, locked on the plump bulks, had lightened up : now, he could only see what he needed to. If nothing happened, he would soon lose control of himself and could even fall on Ashe’s body, unconscious.
His dick came to rescue : hard as the “Boneshiver”, it was threatening to burst out. The stick desperately tried to rise towards the young woman’s legs, as if it wanted to lead the way for the stupid barbarian. But it was restrained by the fabric. Tryndamere plunged a hand in the clothing and pulled out his manhood. Even his wide palm couldn’t circle the girth and he would have needed two of them to cover the length of the shaft entirely. But the real deal with his big dick was its head, completely disproportionate. Still wrapped under the foreskin, its shape could already be guessed easily. The glans stood out so much from the base, it looked like the pommel of a sword. It had taken time for Ashe to get used to it but she didn’t think it was weird. After all, it was the only one she knew. Tryndamere raised himself to the butt’s cleavage and shoved his dick in it. He moved back and forth swiftly, making it slide against Ashe’s intimate parts. The foreskin unwrapped to unveil the peach colored knob. He let a string of spit fall on the stretched skin of his cock —this time willingly, he had recovered entirely. He kept lubricating it until the cleavage offered a sufficiently oiled case. Hands strongly clung to each buttcheek, he pushed the plump flesh against his dick. Back and forth, Tryndamere started to fuck the trench and a bunch of wet noises rose in the bedroom —slosh..sploh! paced by the loud breaths of the king.
“Oh, I love this big ass of yours, little queen ! he chuckled suddenly. It’s so thick, I could nut only by jerking off with these two bags. Only, I masturbate alone since five days so this should be a memorable night !”
And those where not just pretty words ! Without a warning, he pushed the head of his dick against the wrinkled hole and forced it in brutally. The hole contracted. It resisted to the savage thrust of the barbarian until he was about to broke in. Ashe screamed of pain and turned to him, face distorted by hatred and surprise. She put a hand on the man’s torso and tried to push him back.
“No ! Tryndamere, we said you have to ask me first if you want to do it from behind ! Not tonight please ! Not tonight !” she shouted.
“Think a bit dumb girl, you were out for five days ! Should I have sent you a griffin ? he mocked. I want it tonight weather you want it or not. ”
He ignored her arm but Ashe fought back. She tried to escape but Tryndamere was firmly sitting on top of her. He restrained her with all his weight.
“Tryndamere stop ! I bear your whims for the sake of Freljord, but you can’t force me!”
“For the sake of Freljord”. Ha ! Such foolish words in a situation like this, that was almost a brilliant joke. And it made her barbarian’s husband laugh hard. He clang to his stomach, a sadistic grin displayed on his lips. Still spasming, he wrapped his hand around Ashe’s hair and slapped her face with the other. The queen’s neck twisted and she got thrown in the fur pillows. He yelled :
“Here is what I think of the sake of Freljord !”
Tryndamere locked Ashe’s arms in her back, bent her rump and raised her thighs so they would stand perpendicular to the mattress. He stood up on his feet and readied himself to finally assfuck her just like an animal.
“I am the king of Freljord and I couldn’t care less about your wishes, he stated. Enough of this ludicrous silliness. You are going to satisfy me like a true barbarian wife from now !”
As he said this, he dove against the withered little hole, which slowly widened. Painfully, it expanded to match the girth of the glans which soon disappeared, sucked in by the flesh. The skin closed itself on the shaft, which was ready to enter too. Ashe uttered a muffled whining in the pillows : her eyes were rolled up, pupils almost invisible. In response, she stuck her nails in Tryndamere’s calf and scratched the skin as hard as she could. The barbarian raised an eyebrow and displayed a large smile.
“Ha ha ! Here’s how barbarians truly fuck ! Without a scratch, there’s no passion. Tighten those fingers, queen of Freljord ! Hurt me so I can strike back.”
Thus he put himself to work. Up. Down. Up and down again, he watched the flexible outline of the hole wrap tightly around his cock and follow along with his moves : the skin turned into the shape of a suction cup, acting just like it, creating a knoll when he raised and a pit when he thrust downward. The glans seemed sealed inside like a dog knot. So to test it, Tryndamere pulled the ring as far as he could. Ashe gnashed her teeth because of the pain and threw him an icy stare. He found it funny and shoved his foot on the woman’s face.
“Tell your miseries to my foot, bitch.”
Rage ran through the queen’s body, making her limbs shiver and her hair bristle. She wanted to shriek and blow up, but she couldn’t do anything. The king handled her with a firm hand. Her fingers somehow reached below the barbarian thighs and scratched the skin so hard that blood started to stream along her forearm. But pain only galvanized him : Tryndamere accelerated and pounded the hole even harder, sweeping the insides to thrust deeper and deeper again —floc, floc, floc ! Ashe was feeling each push as if it was the first, followed with an unbearable pain. She could almost imagine a sword piercing her asshole, though this “blade” was a meat stick with a round and pink head. It is said that in the right conditions, pain and pleasure can blend and that anal sex is a perfect example of this. For Ashe, there was only suffering. In his state of excitement, Tryndamere would have hardly realized that —he wasn’t even hearing her crying anymore— and honestly he didn’t care at all. He only had eyes for the pink pucker, stretched to its limit against his girth. From time to time, his free hand whizzed through the air and delivered a spanking on the reddish butt of the queen —smack! His palm slapped the smooth skin. Out of breath, Ashe was sobbing —hic..sob..! Tears flowing along her cheeks made her look even more vulnerable, more beautiful. She muttered against her pussy, profusely wet from the repeated flapping of Tryndamere’s sack. Ashe may have been totally furious against the king, her body, though, was welcoming his assaults. It was only a natural reaction, although she felt betrayed, defiled. Tryndamere noticed the fluid spurting against his balls.
“Oh, but you’re leaking like a horny bitch ! he squawked. And you try to make me think you don’t enjoy this…”
Ashe’s cheeks reddened a little more. It would have been hard to guess that her skin was pale as ivory minutes earlier. Tryndamere slid two fingers in the slit, turned them inside and removed them all covered with body liquid. He leaned towards Ashe and hooked the corner of her lips, forcing a disgraceful grimace on her face.
“In the glorious days of the barbarian tribe, we punished women that didn’t satisfy their husbands by muzzling them and walking them in the village for one long day on a leach, naked and on all four. And you Ashe, queen of Freljord, you would have fully deserved this treatment !”
Upon saying this, he increased the pace. His crotch hit the flesh then raised backwards… only to bury itself again with all his length ; and again, and again, until the hole offered him no more opposition. At the other end, Ashe was no more than partially conscious. At first she had been wrecked by the barbarian thrusts, but now she felt nothing more than a vague soreness in her buttocks. Her eyes remained half-shut, blurred with tears. Her body, emptied of its might, swung to the rhythm of Tryndamere’s back and forth. Soon, he wished to observe the orifice. Before, he took pleasure in taking out the massive head of his dick —pop! and introducing it as slowly as he could, numerous times. Experienced, he knew this little game was very useful to dilate an ass. At last, he removed himself for good as he carried a thin string of whitish liquid on the end of his manhood.
He considered the gaping cavity. From up there, he could easily gaze at the pink and gleam insides of the asshole. And as he enjoyed the sight, discrete and sparse farts erupted from the hole wide open —fuit.. shpouet, pouet! Feeling the release closing in, the barbarian turned the queen on her back and sat on her abdomen. His knees locked her arms to keep them restrained on the blankets. They crossed sight. Ashe’s eyes were red and wet. Tears were rolling on her face, down to the corner of the lips were a few long white hair got carried too. Tryndamere stopped a few seconds to behold the plump flesh when it turn into duckface and spit right on his torso. He looked at Ashe’s eyes again, only to see them firing shots at him. Amused, he leaned over the queen and let a string of his own spit drop to the corner of her eye. He rubbed his shaft against her features, ignoring the grunts and insults the queen was throwing at him, along with her nails mauling his buttcheeks.
“I’ll kill you ! Bastard ! You are gonna be sorry, I swear !”
Not very impressed, Tryndamere kept defiling her face. He fancied to smother her screams by fucking her mouth till he nutted in the back of her throat. But he changed his mind quickly, afraid she would snatch his cock if he tried to step past her lips. He rather pulled the nightie away of her chest and laid his manhood between the two udders. Each palm embraced a boob and squeezed to wrap up his dick in a warm sheath. Again, he started to go back and forth. But this time, he was close to come. Each slide of his glans against the skin drove him closer to orgasm. He felt his sack tremble. Ashe didn’t shut up one second. After comparing him with a troll —perverted creatures, she afflicted him with the worst Freljordian bird’s names. Fortress buzzard. Those were her last rambles when she was interrupted by a hoarse groan. In this same second, a string of cum squirted from the cleavage and dropped in a shaky line on her lips and cheek, nearly missing the eye. Another one spurted against her nostrils and several others spread on her chin and neck. They both froze for a few seconds. Tryndamere, emptied. Ashe, speechless, disgusted and still restrained.
When Tryndamere finally moved, he jumped off the bed and walked to the balcony. There, he stretched his muscles, ass still naked, and gazed at the celebrations happening in the illuminated streets of the capital. Laughs and joyful music notes rose to the palace and reached his ears for the first time, as if they had appeared right now. He was happy too, which didn’t happen since a long time : he was filled with a desire to feast. His sight settled on an enticing meat roasting on a grill —with no doubt Poro thighs ! His mind entirely focused on the outside world, he didn’t notice Ashe climbing down the bed without even taking time to wipe the cum off her face. He didn’t hear her grabbing the bow and stretching the string with a frost arrow. What he felt, though, was the head of the projectile hitting his asshole with an extreme accuracy and rip his anus. The arrow’s thrust threw him against the guard-rail which he crossed head first. He fall twenty meters down in the courtyard, crying out inhumanly. Ashe, jaw dropped, widened her eyes. She didn’t want to throw him out of the window. Punish him, that’s what she aimed at ! Not kill him ! The queen ran to the window and leaned over the balcony. She feared what she would discover down there. But surprisingly, there was nothing. No Tryndamere. Not a single droplet of blood. Confused, Ashe looked on each side and under the balcony, seeking desperately where her arrow could have sent the king.
Suddenly, the door of the room burst violently. Ashe jumped on her feet and turned around. Tryndamere was standing in the opening. He was covered in blood but still, a stream of might overflew from his body. Half of the arrow was still stuck in his butt. His eyes glowing like rubies stared at Ashe and a terrifying rictus ran across his face.
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Ashe, Frost Archer