I present to you the story of Diana, Scorn of the Moon. Others have written it before, but I wanted to create my own. Diana is one of my favorite League of Legends champions, and I believe her lore deserves extensive embellishment. What you are about to read is in accordance with canonical lore, and has been supplemented by a great deal of detail of my own creation.

With this story my goal is to create a highly character- and story-driven interpretation of Diana's lore and backstory. There will be romance of a sort, but you will not find erotica here. Not to give spoilers, but if you've come looking for Diana/Leona, it's not here. There will be action, but it is not the focus of the story. I intend to create a dramatic system of events involving realistic characters with convincing motivations and complex personalities.

As I mean to take this somewhat seriously, I am totally open to comments, input, suggestions, and constructive criticism. I hope you enjoy reading this even more than I enjoy writing it. Let the moon light your path, reader.

Enter Diana.

Daylight's End

Chapter 1

Year 1 of the Common League Era

"Then he said to the cook, 'If it is true that you have saved the children, be assured I will take you from turning the spit, and reward you so that you shall call yourself the happiest man in the world.'

As the King was speaking these words, the wife of the cook, seeing the dilemma her husband was in, brought Sun and Moon before the King, who, playing at the game of three with Talia and the other children, went round and round kissing first one and then another. Then giving the cook a large reward, he made him his chamberlain; and he took Talia to wife, who enjoyed a long life with her husband and the children, acknowledging that-

'He who has luck may go to bed,
And bliss will rain upon his head.' "

A soft thump resounded as the woman shut the leather-bound book soundly with one hand, using her other to brush a long strand of pale white hair from her angular face. She winced inwardly as her fingers brushed a tender bruise on the side of her head, but did not let the pain show.

"One more, mama! Please?" the little girl beamed up at her, eyes shining in joy. "The moon's not even up yet!"

She felt herself smile in spite of herself, and she saw the girl's eyes brighten as her lips tugged into a little curve. It was rather hard to deny any request from her daughter, but it had to be done. "Not tonight, my little love. Tomorrow you will be five whole years old, and I shall read you a special story. But as for tonight, your father will soon-"

She stopped suddenly as a faint but sharp bang issued from downstairs, and her face was immediately cast in worry. "To sleep with you now, little one. I love you."

After a soft "I love you too, mama," she tucked her daughter under the covers and hurried into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. She strode quickly to the stairs, passing the many golden tapestries, sculptures, and paintings that adorned her home as she traversed the long hall. Her heart began to beat faster as she hastened down to the first floor. She mustn't take long, or he would be angry. Finally, she came to the entry hall. Here, her steps clicked on marble and floating globes of light cast the large room and vaulted ceiling in a yellow-gold light. In the room beyond was a long oak table, and a large man languished in a high-backed chair. As she approached, she could smell the ale and discern spots of stain and dirt on his rich golden cloak.

"Good evening, Radian," she said, forcing as much warmth into her voice as she could. It was no easy task. It was several moments before he answered, and when he did he did not look her way.

"A man should not be forced to come home to an empty hall, an empty table," Radian said, slurring his speech slightly. Of course; it was the end of the week, and as such he was drunk. "One would think that after a day of work and worship, he might expect to be attended without waiting by his own damned wife."

"Of course. I was simply reading a bedtime story to-" He cut her off with a savage glare that revealed his glazed, bloodshot eyes in the soft glow of the sunglobes. She faltered for a moment, fear and anger clashing within her, before responding. "What would you like, my husband? Anything for you."

The man glowered ominously for a moment before answering. "What do you think I want?" It was to be one of his games, then. One of his impossible tests where nothing his wife said or did could possibly be correct. "Come on now. You know the answer. Or at least you should. You'd think a man's wife would know what he wants after a long day." Unsure of how to respond, and knowing whatever she said would only incur his wrath, she could not make herself speak. "Answer me!" he barked viciously, growing irate with impatience.

"I could brew you some tea, or-"

"Tea?" Radian demanded, voice now raised. "You think I want tea? Tell me, what do you think? Does a man come home at night and want blasted tea?" With every word, his voice grew louder, culminating in a shout as he stood up suddenly, throwing the heavy chair over behind him. "Why don't you think again, with your pretty little head, and ask yourself if what I want right now is darkdamned tea?" He punctuated the question with a sudden backhand, forceful but controlled, driving his wife backward toward the hall.

Radian took a menacing step toward her as his voice approached a throaty bellow—a step that, she noted, was sure and balanced, and fear wormed its way into her heart; some nights, when extremely drunk, he would fly into a drunken rage and pass out quickly enough, and then she could carry him to bed and hope he would forget the evening in his alcoholic haze the next morning. But on the nights that he had drunk but not quite so much, he would have all of the liquor's fury and little of its uncoordination or drowsiness. On such nights, nights like tonight, her husband was most dangerous.

"Do you truly not know what it is I want, after all this time, a supposedly loyal and loving wife?" he spat, advancing. She backed away, wringing her hands and trying not to touch her stinging face in anticipation of what was to come. She could handle herself against most, but many considered Radian to be the strongest fighter the Solari had seen in decades. She didn't stand a chance against him, and the last ten years of their marriage had proven it.

"No, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry. Just come to bed. I'm ready, I'm always ready for you. Please, let's go up right now, and I'll do whatever you want." Such was her desperation to appease him and defuse the situation before it grew serious that she did not notice the soft patter of feet on the staircase, and a moment later she bumped into something small as she continued to back away from his increasingly aggressive steps. She turned, and glanced down.

"What's wrong, mama?" said the little girl, made smaller by the vast room around her. "I heard yelling. I don't like it when there's yelling. It's scary."

Whatever fear the pale-haired woman had felt for herself multiplied tenfold for the vulnerable child. "Why is she up now?" Radian thundered, squinting in suspicion. "You said you had put her to bed."

"Sh-she must have heard," She stammered. "She's frightened, just let me put her back to bed, and-"

"Why are you awake?" her husband snapped, ignoring her completely and staring daggers at the little girl. "What the dark are you doing awake after sundown?"

The child seemed to shrink under his gaze, but somehow managed to respond. "I don't know. Why shouldn't I be awake after the sun goes away?" At that, Radian grew still, very still. When he spoke next, his voice was low, but his eyes blazed with fury.

"The Sun shields us, lights our way, strengthens us," he began, voice dripping with malice and building in volume. "Why in the dark do you think we carve out a life on the tallest peak in Valoran? For fun? No, girl, we revere the Sun and its divine power. And you would spit in its brilliant face, a child who does not love the Sun…" He trailed off, unknown thoughts pulling face into a mask of scorn. "Your stupid mother couldn't even produce a Sun-loving boy." The child retreated in fear, now several feet away from her mother. Radian's glazed-over, bloodshot eyes seemed limned with fire as he regarded the girl before him, and his hand tightened into a fist. His next words chilled his terrified wife to the bone.

"If you do not properly revere the Sun, girl, I will make you." And with those terrible words, he uncurled his fist, and a radiant golden spark danced on his palm. Time seemed to stop as for the first time in the woman's marriage, a surge of protective fury beat back years of fear and subservience.

"No!" shouted the girl's mother with unprecedented strength as her father pointed his glowing hand at her. She cringed, terrified by this eruption between her parents, and so did not see when her mother's own spell streaked toward Radian. Caught off guard, he snapped up a shield, but the desperate attack broke through his hastily erected defense. The bolt caught him in the face and he dropped to one knee, clutching his head and howling in agony. "Run now, little one! Go!" her mother cried, face tight with desperate resolve. Terrified, the small girl obeyed, hair streaming behind her as she bolted for the door. She heard a grunt of effort and a crackle of magical energy as she stretched to reach the door handle, and then fled sobbing into the night.

The girl's feet were painfully aware of the frozen ground as she ran along it, never knowing where she went. But her mother had told her to run, and run she did. There were two or three more sounds of magical exchange followed by a larger concussive blast. Then there were no more sounds of conflict, and the girl knew. She kept running.

Soon her surroundings changed, snow-covered pines replacing elegant homes, streets, and monuments. She fell for the first time as her foot struck a rock, and plunged headfirst to the icy ground. The girl scrambled to her feet and kept running, breathing heavily, but the sky was covered in clouds and no moonlight lit her way. Branches, roots, and rocks seemed to actively seek her out in her flight and the sobbing girl fell again and again, receiving numerous cuts and bruises from the unforgiving ground. After what may have been minutes or hours she stumbled into a thorny bush, crumpled to the ground, and could run no further. She lay there, shivering as tears froze in tracks on her white cheeks.

Suddenly, a pale light came over the ice and snow. The girl looked up, and the new light revealed a small clearing just feet away. She forced herself to stand, numb feet protesting, and staggered into the clearing before collapsing again onto her back. She whimpered, and shivered, and cried. There was no more mother, and there would be no more stories. She could not have said how long she wept.

Finally, shivering, the girl opened her ice-crusted eyelashes and stared into the sky. And there, hanging in the night, lay a softly glowing moon. The clouds had moved, allowing its pale luminescence to light her way. The brilliant crescent calmed her, though she could not say why. She stared at it for several minutes, feeling its serene light bring her a measure of peace. Eventually she slipped out of its trance, and crawled to a mound of earth where she could huddle for warmth. As her eyelids began to droop closed, the little girl saw her mother's warm smile reflected in the moon's gentle curve. And with that thought, the exhausted, terrified Diana drifted off to sleep.