Archive of Our Own ^beta

Piltover, the City of Progress, looked remarkably beautiful today. It basked in the sun's light, not a single cloud in the sky, shone like a glimmering gem surrounded by the waters of the sea and river Pilt. And on the other side of the bridge, there was Zaun. Much different than its twin city, darker, rougher, with perpetual pillars of smoke leaving it. Cassandra would like to say it had its charm, but she prided herself in being an honest person, and she’s never even been this close to the Undercity, let alone actually in, to truly experience and appreciate it. She supposed the scaffold in the middle of the bridge would have to do.

It felt fitting to die right in between the two cities she tried and failed to save.

She was vaguely aware of someone in the background, reading the sentence loudly to the crowd of onlookers. Even more people filled both cities’ coasts, some on boats, to better see the spectacle. To see the fall of House Kiramman, the once powerful stewards of knowledge, political leaders, patrons of art and science. There was once a time in Cassandra’s life, when the utter humiliation of standing on the edge of the scaffold overlooking the river Pilt, waiting with a noose around her neck, would be soul shattering, unthinkable, impossible even. She was of noble blood, her kind, if sentenced to an execution, was supposed to meet their end with at the edge of a sword. But it seemed like the other high Houses of Piltover no longer considered her worthy of such privilege. And, to be frank, she was a little proud of offending them so much with her choices. The choices that led her here. Choices she could not for the life of her regret.

“Mom…?”

There was only one thing she truly regretted.

That she was not standing here alone.

She looked to her right and saw Caitlyn. Her beautiful daughter, stripped down to a white hospital gown, with hands bound behind her back and a noose ready to strangle the life out of her. She looked so young and impossibly scared, her one eye shining with tears she refused to let fall. Trying to endure this nightmare with at least an ounce of dignity.

“It’s all right, dear”, said Cassandra, forcing a smile through her own despair. “We did what we could. That’s all that matters.”

Caitlyn shuddered, keeping in a sob, and shifted her gaze downwards, to where Vi kneeled on Cassandra’s left. She too was bound, even though with her shattered leg she could not possibly stand or fight. Bruised and broken almost beyond recognition, the Zaunite trembled with the effort of keeping herself upright, blood slowly seeping from the terrible, mangled mess that her back was whipped into. But she tried to move her bowed head, at least a bit, just to see her two condemned companions. Cassandra felt her gaze, hopeless and almost dead already.

“We did good, my daughters”, she said with conviction. Desperately trying to give her girls at least an ounce of comfort before death. “We did good.”

But then the Sheriff came forward and grabbed Vi by the hair, pulling harshly to put her head through the noose. The Zaunite grunted and whimpered, sending one last look towards the Kirammans. And then she was kicked right between her ruined shoulder blades, with enough power to push her off the scaffold. She disappeared over its edge with a pained yelp, cut short by the rope tightening suddenly. However, the drop must not have been long enough, because soon everyone could hear panicked panting and gasps from beyond the scaffold’s edge. Desperate kicking and scraping of the one good leg against the bridge’s pillar.

It seemed a quick death was too much to ask for traitors.

Cassandra’s heart broke when she heard Vi’s struggles slowly stop. Then again when Caitlyn broke down next to her, going down on her knees and crying desperately. When the crowd’s yells and whistles announced the death of the Zaunite. When Jayce Talis, the Man of Progress himself, stepped forth and pushed the girl he once considered his little sister over the edge. When the air was yet again filled with the sounds of a desperate battle for breath, one destined to be lost. When it took several long, cruel minutes for Caitlyn, her darling, stubborn daughter, to finally succumb and strangle. When triumphant cheers of the onlookers were the sole reaction to the horrible spectacle.

Only then Cassandra Kiramman allowed herself to cry. Her girls were no longer here and she would soon join them. She considered taking the final step herself, just to have her final act on Runeterra be her own. But someone grabbed her arms from behind and held her, not allowing even this one small mercy. She felt their breath on her ear and heard a familiar low voice.

“Goodbye, my enemy.”

And then Cassandra was pushed.

And she fell.

And she saw the bodies of her daughters.

And she felt the noose tightening.

***

Cassandra woke up with a quiet gasp, as years of strained relationship with Tobias taught her to try and not disturb the fragile peace of their house. She was no longer there, of course, but the reflex remained, even though on the inside she was howling with despair.

She got up from her cot and moved to the wall mounted toilet with learned ease. Then she proceeded to empty her stomach of the last meal, maybe more, considering the intensity of the vomit. All this from a nightmare. Under different circumstances she’d blame food poisoning, but if there was anything decent about her stay in the brig of the Noxian flagship, it would definitely be the food. So no, it must’ve been her mental state encroaching on the physical.

If she were to trust the meal schedule, it’s been a week since the massacre and destruction of Stillwater Hold.

She trusted Tobias in the end. She sent him and Caitlyn with the Kiramman Key and some other important items to Zaun, using the vent hidden in their garden. Turns out her work in cleaning Undercity’s polluted air proved to be a salvation not only for Vi’s brethren, but her own family as well. They were supposed to contact Sevika and the Firelights, mount a rescue for Zaunites and prisoners stranded on the island with minimal means of escaping it. She could only hope they’d succeed, as she was too busy to follow the unfolding situation. Cassandra spent her last hours at the Kiramman manor liquidating and moving the family’s assets to reach out to all the connections she still had out of the Twin Cities. This included securing a steady flow of gold into Bilgewater, whose smugglers she entrusted with feeding and arming Zaun. Because what happened in Stillwater meant war, plain and simple.

They came for her soon enough. She hoped for another Noxian visit, just so she could try and play the “foreign army detaining a Piltovan” card, but there were Enforcers this time. With a warrant for Tobias, who was recorded in Stillwater Warden’s log as the last person to leave the Hold and therefore suspected of letting the beast into the prison. They also had a warrant for her arrest, though she was accused plainly of sedition and treason against Piltover. She did not resist, hadn’t spoken a word other than a thanks, assurance of payment and farewell to her servants, who formed a unified line along the way to the manor’s main door, silently bidding goodbye to the mistress of the house. Even cuffed and led out like a common criminal, Cassandra held her head high, proud, defiant.

She expected interrogations. Maybe not as extreme as what Caitlyn and Tobias described Vi endure, but she prepared herself mentally for pain and humiliation, possibly public, meant to deter others from questioning the status quo. But no, she was taken straight into Ambessa’s flagship, the one that led the fleet not so subtly surrounding Piltover. How nobody else saw the fleet’s presence as a threat was beyond her.

She was searched and immediately thrown into the brig, still in chains. There was a clean cot with a blanket, a working toilet and a sink. No windows, all the light came from artificial, flickery sources outside of the cell, but she supposed those were still far more luxurious living conditions than what she’d receive at Stillwater.

For the first few hours she was left alone, seemingly unsupervised.

Then, four soldiers in red busted in, nightsticks in hands. They did not ask any questions. Just declared this a “Noxian welcome”, as they proceeded to throw her to the ground and beat her. They were careful, methodical. Not once did they strike close to her head, instead favoring her legs and still cuffed arms. And as hard as she tried to keep her dignity, Cassandra soon found herself screaming, writhing on the cold, metal floor with each new bruise. This type of pain was absolutely foreign to her. Her privilege protected her from such treatment, but she knew it was normal for Zaunites to be beaten over nothing by bored Enforcers on duty. She supposed it was fair for her to experience it too, since she allowed the injustice for years. So she screamed, curling herself on the ground, hoping no bone would be broken. She’d rather be able to walk by herself when they decide to execute her.

Cassandra was too deep in shock to notice when the hits stopped landing. The ringing in her ears drowned the angry yells of Ambessa, who at some point stormed into the cell like fury embodied, practically dragging her men off their prisoner. The Kiramman matriarch remained down, trying to regain her breath and not faint, so it took her some time to notice when her Noxian captor kneeled next to her. Her hands were carefully uncuffed and the sudden flow of warm blood into her numb fingers made Cassandra gasp. She lifted her gaze to meet Ambessa’s eyes and was a bit confused to see a mix of anger, pity and pure fear in them. She knew she was an important prisoner, sure, but she did not expect to be fussed over so much. Then again, she felt dreadful, so maybe the worry for her wellbeing was warranted. This possibility was further reinforced when the Piltovan tried and failed to pick herself up. Maybe there was nothing broken, but the pain from the bruises was enough to immobilize her. She wasn’t getting younger, after all. Still, she tried again, only to almost flop back to the floor. The only thing that broke her fall was Ambessa’s arm, inserted quickly under her body. Seeing her prisoner’s sorry state, the general just scooped her off the ground, as one would lift a child, and laid her gently back on the cot. And while it certainly was humiliating to be handled that way, Cassandra couldn’t help but feel an inexplicable relief in that short moment when their skins touched. Oh gods, they really did a number on her, didn’t they?

“I apologize for my men’s overzealousness”, said the Noxian, straightening up above her. “This was not supposed to happen, nor will happen again in the future.”

The Kiramman matriarch merely snorted, and then hissed, as the movement sent a sharp pain through her ribs.

“This shall not happen again”, repeated Ambessa emphatically. “You are not in Piltover. I will not have my enemy tormented without a reason.” She looked at her prisoner once over, an unreadable look on her face. “A medic will look you over. And my second will be tending to you from now on.” She turned sharply to get out of the cell.

“Wait.” The Piltovan found some strength to call after her. “What of my daughters and husband?”

“Still on the run.” Was all the Wolf said before leaving the brig. Stumbling. Limping.

That was the last time Cassandra saw her.

In the next six days she was only visited by a Noxian field medic, whose brilliant treatment plan was to just eat and sleep, and a giant soldier with beard and piercings, who the Piltovan assumed to be Ambessa’s second. Despite an unsettlingly harsh appearance, the man turned out to be decently mannered. He put a simple table and chair into her cell, so she could eat her meals properly. Three times a day he brought her full trays and mugs, all wooden, so she could not use them to escape or hurt herself. Not that she’d try escaping, the cell bars were merely one of the barriers between her and freedom. And since another one of those barriers was a significant length of the sea, well… let’s just say that the Kiramman matriarch accepted the thought that there was nothing she could do at the moment.

So, as recommended by the doctor, Cassandra ate and slept through the first few days, healing. She was allowed quick showers in private and even had a fresh change of clothes to pick from. Her own clothes, taken from her home. Seemingly not the only items to be pilfered, as with her meals she was always given her favorite tea or brandy with dinners. It felt disgusting to have been offered such luxuries in captivity. Were she anyone else, she’d be tortured until broken, and then some. Were she in Piltover, her punishment would be painful, public, swift. And she’d rather go through that than be kept in a cage with constant reminders of familiar comforts. That would be more dignified. That would mean Ambessa had no hostage to use against her girls.

The frustration stemming from feeling useless made Cassandra start pacing her cell more and more once she was able to. She was sick of being out of the loop, not knowing what went on outside of these four walls. It was the first time she could recall when she had nothing to work on, no pressing documents to review, fill out or even burn. With nothing to do and no one to talk to, other than her one silent warden three times a day, she felt like losing her mind. As in, she wanted to lose it. Because the “what if” scenarios it provided were unbearable and even worse when they seeped into her uneasy sleep.

Like now, for example, when she retched into the toilet, holding it like a drowning woman. She had those nightmares before, but it did not make it easier to go through them over and over again.

She just wanted to know they were safe. Gods, she just wanted to see her girls…

“Do you require assistance?”

The woman whipped her head around and saw Ambessa's second, tray in hand, opening the cell with one swift move.

“No. Thank you.” She answered shortly, standing up and straightening her clothes. The need of being polite and somehow presentable still ingrained deeply into her.

“I’ll send in the medic if you’re feeling sick.”

“That won't be necessary. I am fine.”

The man did not press further, leaving her meal on the table, as always. But he lingered, procuring something flat and green from his pocket. Cassandra squinted, surprised. Was that… a booklet of some sort?

“Eat. Read this.” The soldier ordered, putting the booklet next to the tray. “The Wolf will see you in the evening.” And with that, he left her cell.

Well, this was new. A welcome change of pace, even if the subject of today’s apparent book club session was a meager few pages. But at this point the Kiramman matriarch would do anything to focus on something other than the memory of hearing her daughters strangling to death, so she sat down, sipping her tea and quickly looking over the green pamphlet.

The cover was enough for her to spit her drink and cough uncontrollably. Luckily she turned her head in time and did not ruin the cheap paper completely.

She moved her now trembling fingers, tracing the lines on the booklet. It was a simplified, stylized drawing, no colors, but she recognized the familiar figure instantly. Wild hair, shaven on the side. An ancient Shuriman numeral tattoo on the cheek. Left hand held in an unfamiliar salute, with the ring finger and thumb bent into the hand, leaving the other fingers to crudely form her name.

Vi. Defiant. Angry. Rebellious. And above her just three words.

‘Zaun Independence Manifesto’

Oh, gods. Oh, this was brilliant. The tea and food completely forgotten, Cassandra began devouring the contents of the pamphlet. In her hunger for knowledge she often caught herself reading some paragraphs over and over.

“...Vander, who united the disparate gangs into a unified nation, and whose leadership was accepted by all of Zaun…”

“...negotiated a peace treaty with a foreign power’s emissary, and liaised regularly with their law enforcement to ensure a peaceful rule…”

“...Vi was accepted and trained as his heir apparent to continue his reign…”

“...Silco’s insurrection, while successful, was illegitimate through its use of force…”

“... a member of Piltover’s law enforcement aided in an unlawful coup against the ruling elect of Zaun and participated in the exile of their heiress using the Piltovan penal system without the knowledge or consent of the Council, only further implicating the supposed City of Progress’ and the Council’s shameful lack of control of its forces…”

Gods. They were really doing it. Framing Zaun as its own legal entity, its own country. Beautiful piece of brilliant propaganda meant for high society and people from outside the Twin Cities, who did not know the full scale of the Undercity’s struggle. The history of colonization, of the bloody suppressions of any independence uprisings, the descriptions of humiliation and torture used to try and break the Nation of Zaun.

And if the emotional arguments were not enough, the numbers were also here, showing how much of Piltover’s economy relied on the exploitation of Zaun’s workers in mines and factories that did not meet any civilised safety standards. Claiming that were the cities to sever their ties, Piltover would slowly crumble from the lack of natural resources, reliant solely on its gold reserves and trading, while Zaun would finally flourish.

Regardless of whether all this was actually true, it was packaged into words perfectly put together, meant to paint a clear picture. Vi did not come up with this, Cassandra could imagine her snarling at the mere thought of being considered an ‘heiress’ of anything. And as much as she loved Caitlyn, her daughter had never quite mastered the art of subtle persuasion. That only left Sevika and Ekko, and the Kiramman matriarch knew them to be leaders who act, not weave clever words. Which meant…

Oh, Mel, you sly fox. You wonderful girl.

Cassandra smiled so brightly that her cheeks, unaccustomed to such work, started to hurt. She kept reading, absorbing the manifesto like a sponge. The mention of Jinx, the Scourge of Zaun’s actions, specifically the praise for the Council attack, framed as an act of rebellion meant to strike the oppressors directly and without civilian casualties, was a bit of a stretch, but her later dismantling of Chembarons, an oligarchy who took over after killing Silco, and being martyred by the Enforcers painted her in a surprisingly heroic colors.

So, the Sheriff lied. They killed her and lied about it. At this point the Piltovan wasn’t even shocked.

So now, with the Council dissolved and under the constant attacks from the Piltover Commander (who even was that, there was no such title in the chain of command!), the Undercity was apparently led by a triumvirate consisting of Ekko, the Firelight Leader, Sevika, the Remnant Tribune and Violet, Daughter of the Hound. The three who, while uniting Zaun against its oppressors, were also supported by Mel Medarda, the Last Councillor, humbly trying to atone for her mistakes, as well as…

Oh, thank all the gods.

Caitlyn Kiramman. The Last Enforcer. As in, the last that would be allowed in Zaun. Ever.

Cassandra did not notice when she started to simultaneously cry and laugh, but at some point she just had to stand up and walk around her cell a few times to release some of the newfound energy that made her want to loudly cheer. If this was true, if Zaun really was united and supported by two of the Twin Cities biggest fortunes combined… If those pamphlets found their way outside, into Ionia, maybe Demacia or Freljord…

Cassandra was not one to use profanities, but holy shit. Holy fuck.

She merely secured material support by spending golden cogs. She never even tried swaying public opinion of Runeterra. But this… If this was read by people outside of the conflict, if it convinced them… Zaun would only need to cut itself off Piltover and the City of Progress would find itself isolated as soon as its coffers emptied.

This could actually happen.

Noxus was the only player in this game still able to tip the scale back on Piltover’s side.

The Kiramman matriarch abruptly stopped pacing, breathing heavily.

Right.

She was still a hostage.

One whose release was included in the list of demands Zaun put forth into the world. So, her girls and allies did not forget about her. It was certainly a comforting thought, but she hoped they would not make any damning errors for her sake. Her life was not worth putting a whole country’s future in jeopardy.

Right now, it was Ambessa’s turn to make a move. And Cassandra hoped it would not be a checkmate yet.

***

The Wolf’s den turned out to be far more modest than the Kiramman matriarch expected. Sure, it was a spacious chamber for a vessel with limited room, but it did have the characteristic Noxian flare. As in, not much in terms of decorations or trinkets, mostly just scarlet ornaments and flags meant to instill respect in those visiting the place. And weapons, naturally, no space could be called Noxian without at least a half dozen spears mounted to the walls.

But as a fan of rifles, Cassandra had no right to criticize. Her home was like this too.

Ambessa Medarda sat at an oblong table which reminded the Piltovan of her desk at the manor. This one too was in a state of disarray, though Cassandra recognized some of the chaos as her own property. The favored chessboard, with pieces ready for a new game. A stack of books, with a familiar notebook on top. Even her crystal bottle of imported brandy with a glass at the ready by the chair she was invited into. Ambessa’s second brought in some additional snacks, which included fruit, both Noxian and Piltovan, as well as some sweet pastries that the Kiramman matriarch recognized as her favorites from the bakery near the Council building.

She used to snack there with Mel, back in the good old days, when their work kept them from going home and their worst problems were the traders trying to avoid taxes.

Anyways, now was not the time for good memories.

Cassandra straightened a bit under the watchful gaze of the general. She looked… Well, maybe not exactly sick, but less imposing than usual. Tired. She just nodded at her soldier, sending him away, and continued staring at her prisoner long after they were left alone.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. But finally Ambessa spoke:

“There once was a Councillor”, she said, her tone light, as if she were merely telling a story. “She had an eye for exceptional talent, so she picked up and molded various strays, who, under her care, were to grow and inherit the world. There were three of them. The Scientist, the Exile and the Brawler. But one day, a Wolf came, threatening everything the Councillor stood for. And so the strays had to pick their sides in the conflict. The Scientist announced: ‘I will become a Commander and support the Wolf!’. The Brawler declared: ‘I will become a Princess and support the Councillor!’. And the Exile…” The Noxian smiled tiredly. “She just said: ‘well, I’ll just support my mother.’” She looked at her prisoner expectedly. The silence stretched again between them. “Why aren’t you laughing?”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Didn’t it sound like one?”

“No. It sounded like you were about to cry.”

That got a quick, wet laugh out of Ambessa. Oh, she was as easy to read as a book now. Not much left of the cruel, imposing monster, who Cassandra learned to hate.

“The only part worth a laugh”, the Kiramman matriarch said, “was when you called Vi a princess. Damn everything else, she would kill you just for that.”

“Well, that’s who she is now. Zaun’s royalty.”

“You really believe that?”

“When cleaning up Stillwater, I came across a certain asset. Other than his undeniable, unique talents, he also possesses knowledge. Including that of the many happenings that shaped Zaun as we know it. The founding myth, while enriched with dramatic flair, is true.” The general procured a glass for herself and poured some wine. “It did omit some of the more painful details, though. Like, for example, what shaped the revolutionary views of the Scourge of Zaun and the Daughter of the Hound.”

“Wasn’t that the influence of their father figures?”

“That too, but it was later. The first domino piece fell around thirteen years ago. With a certain emergency Council meeting. One in which your vote was the deciding one.”

Cassandra frowned thoughtfully. And froze. Yep, here came the monster again. Back with more cruel revelations.

“No.” She whispered.

“Yes. You voted to order the Enforcers to open fire at the unarmed protesters at the bridge. And they did just that.”

“No.”

“Felicia and Connol, I was told, were their names. Friends of the famous Vander and Silco, before their feud. Hardworking people. Miners.”

“Stop.”

“Some would consider it mercy, I suppose. Better a quick bullet than the Grey Lung. A common illness down in the Undercity, from what I’ve heard. They would probably not live longer than forty years.”

“Stop it.”

“Still… If they survived that day, they’d probably be happy to just live with their two little daughters. And the girls would be happy too, for a time. Until it’d be their turn to work themselves to death in the mines owned by some rich Piltovan, like thousands before them. You wouldn’t even know their names.”

“Please, stop.”

“Why? You act like I’m the greatest evil you’ve ever faced, but you cannot bear to hear how you caused all of this? How you laid the foundations for Jinx? Killed the first of Violet’s families?”

“Enough!” The Kiramman matriarch slammed her fist on the table, tears staining her face. “Even if this is true, it is in the past and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. So if that’s all you wanted to talk about, I shall take my leave.”

“Don’t. Sit down.”

“Why? What do you want from me, Ambessa?”

“I want you to write a letter to your daughters. Inform them of what I want them to know.”

“Go fuck yourself.” At this point, the Piltovan was just too tired for formality and false politeness. “I’m not going to plead with them for you. You want a personal touch, then draw my blood and use it as ink yourself.”

“I told you, my enemy, you’re not in Piltover anymore.” Reminded the general, sipping her wine slowly. “You will not be harmed for no reason. That is not the sort of treatment I condone. Now please, sit down and hear my proposition.”

“Yes, because the last one was oh so brilliant.” Cassandra sat back down and poured herself a few fingers of brandy, needing to clear her thoughts. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you deflected the Mel issue by bringing up the bridge massacre.”

“Still got a rise out of you.”

“I skipped lunch, reading. I have a right to be a bit irritable.”

“You know who else regularly skips meals and is irritable?”

“Yes, Zaunite children. Stop dilly dallying and get on with it.” The Kiramman matriarch sighed loudly, rolling the glass in her hand, watching the liquid inside whirl. “Mel joined Zaun. Which means you’ll either try to use me to crack the rebellion from the inside or straight up kidnap Mel to keep her safe and crush Zaun alongside Piltover.”

“I could do those things, yes.” The Noxian agreed. “But there is another option. See, my new asset is an expert in Chemtech. In fact, he made the beast who destroyed Stillwater and decimated the Enforcers stationed in Zaun until they ran and the bridge could be blown up. And after retrieving some of his possessions from Zaun, he declared himself willing to work for me long term. So… With the Hextech research stopped from the lack of funding from its two biggest sponsors, I no longer need Piltover. Commander Talis had his uses, but as a scientist the boy is useless right now. Too much anger, grief and fear.”

“So you’ll stab him in the back and… What?”

“I removed all my soldiers from the Twin Cities. And I will simply not send them in again. Neither block the Undercity from accessing the smugglers from Bilgewater. This is not my country, nor my war, after all.” The Wolf smiled, finishing her wine and pouring a bit more. “Zaun and Piltover can sort themselves out. I believe in the data in the manifesto. Sooner or later, Piltover falls. And when that happens, the Talis boy will become the scapegoat at the trial our girls will put him through. Once exiled, he’ll come to me. Or I will get him. Either way, I’ll have both Hextech and Chemtech, and Mel shall be safe. So, I’ll win.

“Wonderful plan, but why would such a dangerous individual be exiled and not simply imprisoned?”

Ambessa just smiled, giving Cassandra a knowing look.

Oh.

Of course.

“You should be happy”, said the Noxian. “If everything goes to plan, you shall be back with your family. It’ll take time, yes, but you won’t die in captivity.”

“‘If’ being the keyword here.” Scoffed the Piltovan. “And forgive my bluntness, but the vision of you achieving your goals is far from ideal for me.”

“That is fair. But your city will heal with time. Your daughters will ensure it. Is this not what you wanted, my enemy?”

It was. Gods, it sounded too good to be true.

“Your daughter will also be a part of it.” She decided to deflect the question. “What of Mel? Will you leave her here and go fight your war in Noxus as if she doesn’t exist?”

“Mel is… Far from the daughter I wanted her to be.” Ambessa averted her gaze, looking at the chessboard before her. “I was hoping the unfamiliar, hostile world would shape her into a Wolf. But… She wasn’t alone here. She told me about you. How you introduced her to the Houses, mentored her up until she achieved her own seat at the Council.”

“She was just a hurt girl. One with whom I could share what Caitlyn scoffed at at the time.” The Kiramman matriarch smiled at her fond memories of those early years in Mel’s career. “Do you hate me for it? For… Making her more mine than yours?”

“I did, for a time.” The Noxian looked at her solemnly. “When she heard of your arrest, she actually planned to have me killed. That would automatically make her the leader of the Medarda clan and army. She only relented after finding out it was Jayce and the Sheriff’s idea. Her last act as a Councillor was begging me to be the one to hold you captive. I suppose after attending one of Violet’s interrogations she assumed I could not possibly be the worse option.”

“I doubt there’s a fate worse than that of what Vi was put through.”

“Hard to disagree. Still, Mel trusted me just this tiny bit. And in exchange I asked her to step down from the Council. She did so without a protest. After that, it wasn’t difficult to convince the Houses to dissolve the nonexistent Council and consolidate all the power in the hands of a man, who’s been putting so much gold in their hands all these years.”

“So he would be the one to take the blame when Piltover falls.”

“Precisely. So, no. I do not hate you, not anymore. You took care of my daughter, enough for her to risk everything for you. You made her into a strong, independent woman who fights for what she believes in, even if it’s not with swords and fists. How could I hate you for that?”

“Yet you watched my daughter be tortured. Mocked her torment, telling me about it.”

“Will it change anything if I apologize?”

“No.”

Ambessa nodded and reached for the stack of books near the chessboard, taking the familiar notebook.

“Speaking of Violet, I was hoping that you could explain this to me.” She gave the notebook to the Piltovan, who opened it immediately.

Oh. Caitlyn’s log.

“I know you had no eyes in Stillwater”, the Noxian continued. “But those are very detailed. And accurate. So, how did your daughter know?”

“That is not something you should be concerned with.” Cassandra answered sharply.

“I’m not concerned, just curious. See, I found some more books in your study. Children’s tales, legends. And notes on one particular topic.”

The Kiramman matriarch just sighed, downing her brandy. She planned just to hold it, as she did not want to get tipsy by drinking on an empty stomach and accidentally talk too much, but if the conversation went this way, well, there was no helping it.

“In Noxus, we call them Bonded.” The general stated calmly. As if it was just an everyday topic to discuss. “Rare, but it happens.”

“Oh, so you believe in children’s tales?” The Piltovan needed more alcohol. Now.

“I only started to recently. But I have to say, it fits your sudden change in decision making regarding Zaun. Tell me, my enemy. Have you ever felt inexplicable, physical pain without any apparent reason?”

“Right now, as we’re talking. Give me the pen and paper, I’d rather do something constructive than have this conversation.”

“Now who’s deflecting.” Ambessa snorted, but gave her prisoner the needed items. “Tell them of my plan. My army will not interfere in the conflict nor aid Commander Talis in any way. In exchange, I want him released into my custody, at which point you shall be returned home.”

“I remember”, mumbled Cassandra. Still, she took her time to assure her girls that she was not under duress and did not need an immediate rescue. She had no idea if this letter would be read by someone before sending, so she kept things simple. But at some point her left hand started tingling, and then hurting. Just a bit, to be noticeable. And while it was Tobias who possessed the medical knowledge in their household, his wife did pick up on some tidbits here and there. One of those tidbits being that odd feelings in the left hand might indicate a heart attack.

That’s what she gets for drinking on an empty stomach.

“Everything okay?” Asked the Noxian, noticing her stopping writing for a bit. She fidgeted with her hands under the table, but had her gaze glued to her prisoner.

“It’s fine.”

“You’re pale.”

“I said I’m… Godsdammit!” A particularly sharp pang cut through the Kiramman matriarch’s palm. At least that’s how she felt, because her hand looked perfectly fine.

Across from her, the Wolf just laughed. And got her hands back onto the table. Small knife in the right one, blood on the left.

“I was wondering if it worked both ways.”

Cassandra was not one to use profanities, but oh shit. Oh fuck, no.

And then she had to start the letter from the beginning, because her thoughts accidentally spilled out on the paper. And she could not have her daughters thinking she was losing her mind. Not yet, at least.

Not before she could see them again, her fucking Soulmate be damned.