League Of Legends/Arcane: Earthbound

Adam woke to the feeling of warmth—a stark contrast to the freezing hell he remembered. His eyes fluttered open slowly, the harsh light of day replaced by the glow of a nearby fire. His head throbbed, and his shoulder burned, though not as intensely as before. The scent of something herbal hung heavy in the air, mixed with smoke and the faint smell of old wood. He tried to sit up but winced immediately, clutching at his shoulder as pain flared through him.

"Stay down," a gentle but firm voice said.

Adam turned his head to find an old woman sitting on a stool beside him. Her silver hair was tied back neatly, and her weathered face was calm but watchful. She had a bowl of steaming water in her lap, and her hands were busy wringing out a cloth.

"Where am I?" Adam croaked, his throat dry.

"A safe place," she replied simply. "Drink this."

Before he could argue, she pressed a small clay cup into his good hand. Adam sniffed the liquid suspiciously. It smelled bitter, like overcooked tea. He grimaced.

"Do I have to?"

"If you want to live," she said, unbothered by his hesitation. "It will fight the fever. You're lucky your friends brought you here when they did."

Friends? The memory of the storm slammed into him like a wave: getting separated, the stalking shadows, the blue-eyed thing, and then the attack. Death itself—the Lamb and Wolf. His heart raced, the phantom feeling of teeth grazing his shoulder sending chills through him. He remembered fighting, bleeding, and then…

"Ashe! Tryndamere!" he blurted, suddenly alert.

The old woman placed a hand on his chest, forcing him to lie back down. "Hush. They're fine. Out gathering supplies, I imagine. You'll see them soon enough."

Adam exhaled shakily and took a sip of the bitter drink, gagging as it slid down his throat. "God, that's awful."

"It'll do its job. Now rest."

The woman turned back to her work, and Adam let his head fall against the pillow. He stared at the ceiling, made of crude wooden beams, and let the memories resurface.

It had all been a blur after he collapsed in the snow. He vaguely remembered Ashe shouting his name, her voice cutting through the wind like an arrow. Then came the heavy thud of boots and Tryndamere's growl as the barbarian hoisted him up like a sack of potatoes.

"Don't you dare die, boy," Tryndamere's voice had rumbled, though it felt far away.

He'd drifted in and out of consciousness, the bitter cold battling against the heat of his fevered body. At some point, he remembered Ashe kneeling beside him, pressing something to his bleeding shoulder.

"He's burning up," Ashe had said, her tone edged with worry. "We need to move faster."

"Then move," Tryndamere had snapped.

Adam recalled being hauled onto something—maybe a sled—and the jostling motion that followed. He remembered Ashe's voice speaking to him, though he couldn't make out the words. The only thing he could cling to in those moments was the warmth of her hand gripping his.

It was strange to think about now. Ashe, the icy archer with nerves of steel, and Tryndamere, the barbarian king who could probably punch a mountain in half—he'd never have expected them to care. But here he was, alive.

And, somehow, they were the reason why.

Hours passed, or maybe it was days—Adam couldn't tell anymore. He drifted in and out of sleep, his fever keeping him trapped between nightmares and lucidity. Sometimes, he'd wake to see the healer tending to him, muttering under her breath about stubborn young men and reckless warriors.

Other times, Ashe would be there. She sat silently by the fire, her bow across her lap, her eyes fixed on the flames as if seeing something only she could. Adam would watch her until sleep claimed him again.

When he finally woke without the fever clouding his mind, it was Ashe who greeted him.

"You're awake," she said simply, glancing at him from where she sat sharpening an arrowhead.

"Yeah," Adam croaked, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan. His shoulder was stiff and sore, but the pain was bearable. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost three days," Ashe replied, setting the arrow aside. "The healer said your fever broke last night."

"Three days?" Adam blinked. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. Ashe had a calming presence, even if she rarely spoke much. Adam looked at her, taking in her serene expression and the faint glow of the firelight on her face.

"Thanks," he said after a moment.

"For what?"

"For, you know… saving my life. Again."

Ashe's expression softened just slightly. "You shouldn't have been out there alone."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly plan it," Adam replied with a sheepish grin. "I got separated, and then… I saw it again."

Ashe's gaze sharpened. "The blue-eyed figure?"

Adam nodded. "Death. Like Tryndamere said. It wasn't just some hallucination. It attacked me—both of them. The Lamb and the Wolf."

Ashe studied him carefully. "You fought them?"

"I tried," Adam admitted, frowning. "I copied some of your moves and some of Tryndamere's. I don't know how, but I pushed back the Lamb. The Wolf was another story. I barely got a hit in."

"You're lucky to be alive," Ashe said quietly. "They don't usually miss their mark."

Adam didn't reply. He still remembered the way Death had watched him, taunting him. But more than fear, he'd felt anger—an unwillingness to let it win. I refuse to die here. I refuse to die a virgin. The thought made him snort faintly to himself now.

"What's so funny?" Ashe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Adam replied quickly. "Just… delirious fever thoughts."

Later that evening, Tryndamere returned, stomping into the hut with the subtlety of a bear. He grunted when he saw Adam sitting up. "Good. You're not dead."

"Nice to see you too, big guy," Adam shot back, smirking.

Tryndamere dropped a bundle of firewood beside the hearth and sat down heavily. "You'll live, but don't expect sympathy. We have a long journey ahead."

Adam's smile faltered slightly. "Where to?"

Ashe answered, "A council meeting of the clans. Important matters are being discussed. You can stay here, recover—"

"No." Adam cut her off before he realized it. Ashe blinked in surprise, and Tryndamere frowned.

Adam swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. "I don't want to stay behind. I've been useless for too long. I want to come with you."

Tryndamere snorted. "You can barely swing a sword."

"I'm getting better," Adam shot back. "And I'll keep getting better. Just… don't leave me here."

Ashe watched him carefully, as if weighing his words. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. But you'll need to keep up."

Adam smiled faintly. "I can do that."

Over the following weeks, Adam kept his word. Every morning, before dawn, he trained. Tryndamere was relentless as a teacher, but Adam learned quickly. The sword no longer felt as foreign in his hands, though it still wasn't second nature. In the evenings, Ashe drilled him with the bow, her quiet corrections helping him refine his aim.

He surprised both of them with how quickly he picked up their techniques. At first, Tryndamere had accused him of lying about his lack of experience, but Adam insisted he was just copying their movements. It was something about the way his mind worked—he could see, imitate, and adapt.

It wasn't perfect. He still stumbled and got knocked flat during sparring sessions, and his muscles ached constantly from the unfamiliar strain. But he improved.

More than anything, he began to feel like he was part of something. Ashe and Tryndamere weren't just his protectors anymore—they were becoming his friends. Tryndamere still grumbled and barked orders at him, but there was a grudging respect in the way he spoke to Adam now. And Ashe, while reserved, seemed to trust him enough to share small stories about her past or her clan during quiet nights around the fire.

Adam didn't share as much, but he did tell them about his brother—how he'd basically raised him after their parents died. "He's a cop back home," Adam said one night, staring into the flames. "Big guy, bearded, always barking orders at me. Kinda like you, Tryndamere."

Tryndamere grunted. "Your brother sounds like a wise man."

Adam smirked. "He'd probably think you're insane."

Ashe shook her head faintly, her lips twitching in what might have been a smile.

Moments like that—simple and fleeting—made the hardships of their journey feel worth it.

When they finally reached the meeting site of the clan leaders, Adam felt both relief and dread. The stone hall loomed over the camp like a monument to power, and warriors from every corner of the Freljord gathered outside. Adam stuck close to Ashe and Tryndamere as they approached.

"Wait here," Ashe told him as they reached the entrance. "Only leaders are allowed inside."

"Figures," Adam muttered. "I'll just… hang out, I guess."

Ashe nodded once, and then she and Tryndamere disappeared through the heavy doors.

Adam looked around awkwardly. The other warriors—stoic and scarred—watched him with barely disguised curiosity. He held their gazes, refusing to back down. I've been through worse.

Eventually, he sat down against a rock and pulled out his GameBoy. The familiar chiptune music filled the air as he started up Donkey Kong. A few heads turned at the noise, and Adam grinned to himself.

That grin faded when he saw a girl—blonde hair, blue eyes—being harassed by a large man nearby. Adam's blood boiled instantly, and he shot to his feet, fists clenched.

"You heard her," Adam said loudly as he approached. "Back off."

The man turned and sneered. "And who are you supposed to be?"

Adam smiled faintly, cracking his knuckles. "The guy who's gonna kick your ass."

The fight didn't last long. The man was big and clumsy, and Adam danced around his punches with ease. A sharp elbow to the head sent the man sprawling.

Adam turned to the girl, grinning as he rubbed his knuckles. "You okay?"

She nodded, surprised. "I am. Thank you."

"No problem," Adam replied, glancing at the unconscious man. "But I'm guessing that guy's got friends…"

The girl's faint smile faded. "He does. You might've just made things worse for yourself."

Adam sighed. "Of course I did."

As warriors around the camp started to murmur, Adam crossed his arms and muttered under his breath, "This is definitelygonna come back to bite me."

The unconscious man was still sprawled on the ground when Ashe and Tryndamere emerged from the council chamber. The moment they stepped into the open air, the murmuring crowd parted for them, revealing Adam standing awkwardly near the unconscious brute and the girl he'd helped. Ashe's sharp gaze darted between Adam and the scene in front of her, and she pinched the bridge of her nose with a deep sigh.

"What happened?" she asked, though the tone of her voice already suggested she had a pretty good idea.

Tryndamere's expression was less subtle—his brow furrowed, jaw clenched, and his intimidating gaze flicked to Adam with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm. Adam scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin.

"Well… uh, big guy over here was bothering someone. I stepped in, and, well…" Adam gestured to the still-out-cold man on the ground. "Things escalated. He pushed me, so I hit him back. You know, self-defense."

Tryndamere folded his arms over his chest, glaring. "You picked a fight."

"No, he picked a fight with her," Adam said defensively, pointing at the girl, who was still hovering nearby with a grateful but nervous expression. "I just finished it."

Ashe stepped closer, her piercing blue eyes narrowing as she took in the situation. "Adam… do you have any idea who this man is?"

Adam frowned. "Uh… jerk number three?"

Ashe sighed. "He's the younger brother of a clan leader. A clan that already dislikes ours."

"Oh," Adam muttered, his face falling slightly. "Well, crap."

Tryndamere's voice was low, rumbling like distant thunder. "You may have just made things harder for us, boy. We don't need more enemies."

Adam felt his gut twist with guilt. He glanced at Ashe, who looked disappointed but not furious, and then back at Tryndamere, who looked ready to throw him through a wall. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know who he was. I just couldn't stand there and let him—"

"It's done," Ashe interrupted, her voice soft but firm. "The council won't care about this incident. But you need to learn when to pick your battles, Adam."

Tryndamere grumbled but didn't argue further. Adam glanced at the girl one last time, who mouthed a quiet thank youbefore slipping away. He sighed, feeling both justified and guilty at the same time as they gathered their things and left the village behind.

The weather had begun to shift as they traveled. The harsh, biting cold of the Freljord gave way to something softer—still chilly, but bearable. For once, Adam didn't feel like his fingers were about to fall off, and the snow beneath their boots wasn't piled high enough to swallow his legs.

The journey back to Ashe and Tryndamere's home was long, though, and after a few hours of walking, Adam found himself getting bored. To make time pass faster, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his trusty GameBoy.

The chiptune hum of Donkey Kong filled the otherwise quiet trail. Tryndamere's head turned sharply at the noise, his brows furrowing. Ashe glanced at him, too, her expression curious.

"What is that?" Ashe asked, breaking the silence.

Adam grinned without looking up from the screen. "It's my GameBoy. It's, uh… a handheld video game console."

Tryndamere's brow furrowed deeper. "A what?"

Adam paused his game, realizing they weren't going to let it go. He held up the device, the screen glowing faintly in the dim light. "It's kind of like… a toy? But for grown-ups too. You play games on it. Here, look."

He turned the screen toward them, showing the tiny pixelated figure of Donkey Kong bouncing across the screen. Ashe tilted her head, watching the screen intently, while Tryndamere loomed over them both, clearly intrigued but not willing to admit it.

"How does it work?" Ashe asked.

"Well, there's buttons here." Adam pointed to the directional pad and the A and B buttons. "You move with this, and you jump and interact with these."

Tryndamere snorted. "It looks ridiculous."

"Ridiculously fun," Adam corrected with a grin. "Here, try it."

He handed the GameBoy to Ashe, who took it gingerly as if afraid she might break it. She stared at the screen, pressing a button cautiously. The little character on the screen jumped, and she blinked in surprise. Adam couldn't help but laugh.

"See? Not so hard."

"I don't understand," Ashe murmured, still pressing buttons and watching the screen with increasing fascination. "What is the point of this?"

"You play as a hero—kinda like in real life," Adam explained, smirking. "Your goal is to overcome obstacles, defeat the bad guys, and save the day. Or, in Donkey Kong's case, rescue a princess. It's just for fun, but it takes skill, too."

Tryndamere crossed his arms, watching Ashe struggle to time her jumps. "Let me see it."

"Alright, big guy, your turn," Adam said, passing the GameBoy over. Tryndamere accepted it reluctantly, his massive hands practically engulfing the small device.

Adam tried not to laugh as Tryndamere squinted at the screen. "Push this button to jump," Adam instructed. "And this one moves you forward."

Tryndamere grunted, his thumb pressing down far too hard. The character on the screen jumped awkwardly before falling into a pit. Tryndamere frowned deeply, muttering under his breath. "This is nonsense."

"Give it time," Adam said, trying to contain his grin. "It's trickier than it looks."

Ashe watched Tryndamere struggle for another minute before turning to Adam with a faint smile. "This… device of yours. It's impressive. Where does it come from?"

Adam hesitated for a moment before replying. "It's from my world. Back home, we have technology—machines that run on electricity and let us play games, watch movies, and talk to people even if they're far away."

"Machines that do all that?" Ashe asked, clearly amazed.

"Yeah," Adam said, smiling softly. "It's normal where I come from. But here…" He gestured to the landscape around them, snow-covered hills and towering pine trees. "Here it's all about survival, fighting, and… you know, magic and swords. No GameBoys, no movies, no cell phones."

Tryndamere snorted again, but this time there was less derision in it. "Your world sounds strange."

"Yours does too," Adam shot back playfully.

The three of them fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, passing the GameBoy back and forth whenever they stopped for breaks. Tryndamere grumbled about it being a "child's toy," but Adam could tell the big guy secretly enjoyed it. Ashe, on the other hand, was surprisingly good at the game once she got the hang of the controls, her precision and patience serving her well.

For the first time since Adam had arrived in this world, things felt… normal. They weren't running from enemies, battling the elements, or fighting for their lives. They were just three people walking together, laughing, and teasing each other over who had the better score in Donkey Kong.

Adam found himself smiling as he watched Ashe and Tryndamere banter quietly over the GameBoy. They looked so at ease, so natural. And, for a brief moment, he let himself wonder: What if I'd been born here?

The thought surprised him, but he let it linger. If I were born here… maybe I'd wish they were my parents. Tryndamere, strong and unyielding, a force to be reckoned with, but with a hidden loyalty that couldn't be broken. Ashe, calm, wise, and kind—always thinking ahead, always looking out for those around her.

Adam felt a small pang in his chest. If they ever had kids, those kids would be the luckiest people in the world. Strong, brave parents who would fight for them no matter what.

He shook the thought away before it could settle too deeply and grinned. "Alright, alright, give it back. I need to show you both how it's done."

Tryndamere grunted and handed the GameBoy back with a scowl. "This 'game' is cursed. I'll never understand it."

Ashe smirked faintly. "I don't know. I think I'm getting better at it."

Adam laughed as he started a new game. "Don't get too cocky. I'm the master here."

For a while, as the sun began to dip below the horizon and the shadows of the Freljord lengthened, the three of them walked on together, their laughter mingling with the wind. It wasn't home, but for the first time, Adam felt like maybe—just maybe—he didn't need to rush to get back.