With Lissandra's assistance, Ashe was safely ensconsced on her throne before Sejuani's emissary arrived. Members of her court stood in the shadows along the edges of the great chamber. Bare torches cast flickering lights over their weathered faces and glinted off jeweled belt buckles and beaten helms. They carried no weapons. Ashe's people were loyal to her cause, but the Freljord made hard, proud men. They wouldn't hesitate to cleave a rival clan lord over a land dispute, even if the clan boundaries were supposed to be dissolved. And regardless, these men didn't need weapons. The coming of age ritual in the Freljord involved killing an animal without weapons. Many of these men had killed cave bears, direwolves, and a few had even brought down wild boar. Compared to such wild adversaries, killing a man would be child's play.

However the strongest of her allies was not present: the throne to her right was empty. Ashe always tried to arrange diplomatic visits when her barbarian husband, Tryndamere, was unable to interfere. In this instance, he was leading the troops she had sent to help "repair" some remote fishing villages that had suffered damages during a recent raid. In reality he was more likely dealing out some barbarian style justice by dispatching heads. Tryndamere had more experience cracking skulls with a hammer than he did pounding nails. Ashe could not leash her husband, but she could help prevent him from spinning out of control.

But the ache in Ashe's stomach attested that it was she that was out of control. She clutched her cloak tighter over her legs, concealing them and any meltwater that might be present. Her skin was covered in gooseflesh, but Ashe believed that the smoke and the shadows would disguise that well enough. They icy necklace glittered against her throat and into the deep crevasse that was her cleavage. The light it emitted could not be disguised, Ashe was indisputably the center of attention. She flushed at the thought, but part of her, a shard of vanity buried as deep as the ice chip, enjoyed the attention. And with that thought, the ice chip expanded a fraction of an inch, her body trembling as it moved. Her nipples stood at attention, the wooden doors creaked open, and Sejuani's ambassador arrived.

"Ashe." He growled. And his voice sent a wave of dread down her back.

Although she had never treated with this man before, but she knew who he was before seeing his crimson skin, rumored to be tattooed with the blood of his enemies. Harthrax, Sejuani's right hand, was synonymous with a demon in many Freljordan stories. It was said that if his name were aloud he would come and bring indescribable horror upon the speaker and his kin, but that didn't stop bards from telling whispered tales around many a tavern fireplace. Unlike Braum, Ashe's mustachioed ally, Harthrax used his strength for villainy. They said he bare-handedly reduced a farm to rubble when the family refused to offer their daughter to the Winter's Claw. They said he killed twelve wolves and drank their blood. They said that he knocked down the trees that made the Winter's Claw's catapults. And most frighteningly they said he shared a bed with Sejuani. His presence here meant that Ashe would not be getting the treaty wanted. He would be a herald of war.

Ashe leveled her eyes on the giant of a man. Nearly seven feet tall, with shoulders as broad as a musk ox, Harthrax was imposing even without weaponry. True to rumor, his skin was covered in sanguine designs, that caused Ashe's own skin to crawl. She drew a deep breath, and forced her voice to remain steady. "Harthrax. The Avarosan welcome you, as well as the treaty you carry. Make your approach, and let us share a cup of mulled wine to wash away the taste of the road."

Harthrax let out a gravelly bark of a laugh and approached. Behind Ashe, Lissandra let out an excited hiss. Drinking from the traditional cup would promise Harthrax protection while he was staying at the hall, and Ashe felt suddenly uneasy about offering it. She stood, and with a shaking hand she poured the wine, taking the first sip as a display of good faith. Harthrax took the chalice from her, and surveyed her appreciatively. "You look beautiful tonight." He said lecherously, and raised it to his lips. "To good company." He said, and drained the cup. Ashe could smell the musky odor of mingled blood and sweat rising off him, and noticed that his canine teeth were irregularly sharp. When he burped into his fur sleeve, she could almost taste the stale scent of ale mixed with the tang of the wine he had just consumed. He was clearly a dangerous man, and Ashe was very afraid. Both of him and of the plan that Lissandra had not yet revealed.

She stood for a moment in complete silence, unable to decide how to begin. Although he disgusted her, and frightened her, the raw wildness in him appealed to her as well. And with every moment she waited, Ashe could feel the ice shard in her growing. "So, shall we retire to discuss terms of the treaty?"

Harthrax laughed again. "There will be no treaty." From the depths of his coat, he pulled out the parchment that her scribes had laboriously written for Sejuani to sign. Rather than the crisp white document it had originally been, the treaty was brown as if it had been immersed in blood. "We will not surrender to your rule."

The room collectively drew breath and waited for Ashe's response. "I see no reason that we should extend our hospitality any longer than necessary." She turned to the guards, and from the corner of her eye saw Lissandra watching intently with her sightless eyes. "Make sure he is escorted safely to the gate."

"We will never surrender to your rule." Harthrax reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of bloodstained helms with the crest of an Avarosan scout.

The crowd did not meet this with silence. The lords shouted for blood and vengeance, but Ashe couldn't give it to them. The oldest law of her land protected travelers and dignitaries, and although Sejuani may have broken it, Ashe would not. "Take him to the gates now!" She commanded. "Do not harm him!"
And then Ashe could do nothing. She felt the ice shard within her swell to enormous proportions and spin rapidly. The pain and the pleasure caused her to fall to the floor before her entire court and convulse in ecstasy. The ice around her neck tightened, and restricted her ability to breathe. She was slowly losing consciousness, but could still she Lissandra step forward and say, "look, your Queen has been murdered. You must take vengeance on the man responsible, and then pay back the insult tenfold on Sejuani's people!" Ashe could hear the sound of boots stamping, as her sworn allies cried for blood to be spilled. There was a wet thud as Harthrax's head hit the ground, and then blackness.