Chapter Text
“—and this has enabled Jarvan II to enact the Regulations, protecting internal family matters—”
More like letting husbands beat up and rape their wives and abuse their children without any recourse to the law, Lux thinks, sitting at her spot by the communal desk — just like everything in Demacia, seating is shared — as the professor pontificates, dragging his feet around the classroom like a shark, looming over the students of the Protector-forsaken University of Demacia.
“—putting an end to unsheltered perversions of gender and sexuality, infringed upon our mighty homeland from the Noxian-aligned scum—”
Lux swallows the bile in her throat, casting a fearful glance around the classroom. She barely knows any of her classmates, which is good, because no one can notice her, no one can determine that she is, in fact, one of the perverted Noxian-aligned scumbags, a — what was the Noxian word? — a lesbian, code for ‘get arrested and spend months in torture chambers.’
Maybe she would be better after conversion therapy, Lux has mused many times. Maybe despite all the pain and horror it brings, she would finally be free of her ailment, having been born wrong, faulty, un-Demacian.
Lux has gotten used to the horrors of her nation.
With each passing year, the society has been getting more and more conservative, with the government enacting new laws to counter the more progressive tendencies of the world. Women’s rights, queer representation, abortions, freedom of speech — all of those are synonymous with treason, and no Demacian in their right mind would utter those words, lest they be accused of anti-Demacian behaviour and sent to rot in jail.
And of course Lux has dreamed of leaving for good. Who wouldn’t? But, as most nations are aligned with the mighty empire of Noxus, getting an entry visa with a Demacian passport is an elusive dream. And, even so, most visas last a total of three months, after which a Demacian citizen would be forced out, back to the shithole that bore them.
Lux has gotten used to the poisonous hypocrisy of other nations, too.
Even though Demacia has done nothing to align itself with any nation but the outcasts like the Shadow Isles, other countries — Piltover, Zaun, Ionia, Bilgewater, the Freljord, Shurima — have turned a blind eye to the citizens of Demacia suffering under the regime, instead imposing trade sanctions that are hitting the poorest the most, and leaving the nation even more united against the rest of the world that has forsaken them.
Are they really worth saving though?
Lux looks around, feeling the grins and the approving nods as the other students silently agree with what the professor is saying. Such a nation would not deserve a second chance, Lux knows it well. There is no change, no hope for such a nation, and it is by a cruel ploy of Fate that Lux, Luxanna Crownguard, had to be born in Demacia.
Lux stifles a sigh as the professor keeps on drilling young minds into submission — until her eyes fall on another student in the back row, a wildly-dressed young woman with electric blue hair tied into two giant braids, several (very delicious) patches of skin covered in cloud tattoos.
The woman looks gorgeous, about the same age as Lux, and poor Luxanna cannot stop unholy thoughts from entering her mind as images begin to populate her mind, images of this woman on top of her, pressing her lips against hers, grabbing her wrists forcefully as she—
“Bullshit,” the blue-haired woman suddenly drawls, loud enough for everyone to hear, and the professor stops his tirade, raising a brow. “Demacia claims to be a peacekeeper but it was built on conquering and assimilating nearby tribes, and keeping them from getting independence.”
Apparently the professor has shifted over to the external policy of the Regulations while Lux has been zoning out.
“Oh, Miss Jinx from Piltover University,” the professor says in his smiling, cruel manner, like a predator eager to devour the disobedient. “Pray tell how it is different from how Piltover has been keeping their counterpart, Zaun, on a tight leash?”
“Oh, don’t get me started on Piltover, professor!” the woman cackles in what seems like a spur of manic energy. “The fucking Pilties have neglected us forever, but at least down in Zaun we have learned to live and let live. Whereas you Demacians have learned to live and let die.”
“The nation of Zaun is notorious for its corruption and crime,” the professor counters with a sly grin as he knows just where to hit. “The highest crime rates in the world! Poisonous air, and wouldn’t you say the Chembarons are exploiting your people just like Piltover would in the past? How are you any better?”
The woman — Jinx? — sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, her entire face scrunching in pain as she spits out, “At least I am free to fuck women and be myself.”
Gasps resonate around the classroom as a blonde guy — Ezreal, was it? — whispers to his friends, “what a fucking dyke.”
“Miss Jinx,” the professor remarks coolly, “while you may be here as a guest, with certain diplomatic protection, please do respect the customs of the hosts. While Mister Ezreal’s remark was in bad tact, the contents ring true; we will not tolerate any transgressions of sexual nature. Do be kind to leave the classroom and ponder on your behaviour.”
Jinx opens her mouth to retort, then shuts it and grumbles something under her nose as she marches out of the classroom, storming off, her braids lagging behind.
Lux wants to run after her, to talk to her, to ask her… what? But she knows very well the scrutiny of the people around her. While this Jinx is a guest who will finish her education and leave, Lux will be forced to stay. And she needs to be on everyone’s good side, lest she be severely punished.
If life were any kinder, if it were merciful, Lux would stumble across the blue-haired woman after class, run into her in the narrow corridors of the University, would have a perfect encounter that would lead… where exactly?
But life has never been kind, has never been merciful. So Lux exits the classroom, met with cold, cruel stares of her compatriots.
Ezreal elbows her, proud and grinning widely. “What a fucking dyke, that Jinx, huh.”
“Yes…” Lux manages to put on a smile as she’s about to throw up. “What a dyke indeed.”