siraranisamused: ClassyAran (Default)
[personal profile] siraranisamused
Series: League of Legends
Characters: Kalista
Word Count: 400
Rating: PG
Summary: The pursuit of revenge does not allow for shades of grey.
Prompt: Kalista is on the trail of some unexpected quarry.
A followup submission to the League of Fics contest

They had heard about this man.

He was an honourable knight, sworn to protect his king and country. His deeds made him champion of the common folk, and his quests would go down in song and story. Truly, he was a hero.

It did not matter. The soldier had made the oath and freely given his soul; now it was time to uphold their end of the bargain.

They found the knight riding alone, away from the city. Perhaps he was off on another quest. Or, perhaps, he could feel them coming, see the black mist crawling in, and tried to flee, or at least prevent others from seeing this.

It did not matter.

“You know why we are here.”

The knight stared at the spectre. He was quite the opposite of them in every regard: their armour was battered, torn, and dull; his was polished, firm, and bright; their limbs were limp but their poise was tight; though he had a sense of dread in his heart, he remained calm and loose; their eyes burned with purpose, the one light in their deathly pallor; his face was grim, staring his execution in the face, the one dark spot in his shining appearance.

“Yes...I suppose I do.”

“You betrayed your king and comrades, struck all down in the heat of battle when they needed you most.”

“It was a rebellion. The king was a despot, a bully, a madman. The people suffered under his rule, and just as many would have died had they not risen up.”

“They were your kin! You struck them down!”

“He was a tyrant! I delivered justice!”

The spectre stood silent for a long while. They... she... could remember. The king she once served. The goodness that once made her proud to serve him, corrupted, and then gone away, just as the kingdom crumbled all around them...

“...There can be no justice. Only revenge.”

The knight sighed. “I suppose so.” He dismounted, and pulled out his sword. With some cooing and a firm slap on the hindquarters, his horse galloped off back to the city.

“You know, I feel at a disadvantage here, you being a ghost,” he quipped, levelling his sword.

“Yes,” they agreed, readying their spear. “You are.”

When the black mist parted, all that remained was the knight's armour, stained with blood, and three puncture marks out both ends of the chest.


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