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The streets of Piltover, contrary to popular belief, are not paved with magical mechanical creations – as much as the propaganda would have people believe. They are, in fact, just as grimy and dusty as Noxus had been.
Kayn would know.
He's been hungry on both of them – with parents and without.
At least in Piltover people haven't actively tried to kill him yet, which is more than he can say about where he came from, not that he remembers much of it.
War has a way of making things... blurry.
There's the common misconception that war is all about flashy battles and knights meeting on a glorious field where armies crash and trumpets shriek over dramatic sweeping victories. He'd heard these tales as a kid from the shape of a mother he almost remembers, whispering stories to him as she'd tried to shield him from the pelting rain in the alleyway where they'd slept.
It was probably the first kindness paid to him in the land where he'd been born – the only other was her futile attempt to flee with him. Because war is not flashy battles full of knights in shiny armor.
War is an undeclared, unofficial nightmare. War is being torn from his mother's arms at six years old, screaming and bloodied, watching the soldiers set upon her for trying to conceal him from conscription. War is being dragged by his hair through the streets and thrown into a cart full of other newly-made orphans. War is having a sword pressed into his hands and being thrown at a border town that’s already burning – the swords at his back no less sharp than those ahead – forced to end the lives of strangers that make the mistake of hesitating to end his.
War is weeping on his hands and knees in a grey hell of churned mud and blood, heaving up nothing for lack of a meal in days. Throwing his weapon aside and running to join a fleeing caravan, praying no one tries to talk to him.
Spending nearly two years on the streets of a strange sprawling city, adapting to a language that doesn't grate on his ears as harshly as his mother tongue had. Learning to steal to keep food in his belly. How to be silent, invisible, unthreatening but not harmless. Never harmless.
Learning to let the dust settle over him, until he's just one more of Piltover's urchins – a messy imperfection in a machine trying to be well-oiled.
By eight, he no longer stinks so badly of war. Screams no longer echo in the silence of his mind. Apples and rubies and the ribbons in the shop girl's hair are not dyed with blood. No one cocks their head at him in suspicion when he speaks, his roughened tongue now molded to the correct lilt through painful lessons.
He may be a street rat, but at least he is no longer a dog of war.
Maybe it's this comfort with his new place that makes him overconfident. Makes him look at the young boy with a mischievous grin wander down his alley and think I could take him.
At eight years old, Shieda Kayn can practically smell the coin purse on someone. Can tell by the way they carry themselves and the cut of their dress if it'll be worth the risk. Knows by the way they walk where it's likely to be tucked.
This boy, bright and clean and shining – so thoroughly out of place – smells like Kayn is about to be able to feed himself for the next few weeks.
He pushes off the wall where he's been leaning, watching the flow of merchants through the square from his alleyway, and slides up next to the boy.
“Are you lost?”
“ Augh! ”
Kayn cringes at the yelp, jumping back a step as the boy whirls around to look at him, hand on his chest. Not a great start, especially if anyone heard...
“Sorry-”
“Oh my goodness,” The boy squeaks at him, eyes wide. He looks young – younger than Kayn at least. Too young to be wandering alone. “No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell in your face, you just scared me.”
Kayn shrugs at him, glancing toward the square. No one seems to have heard the commotion. “S'okay.”
“I'm Ezreal!” The boy sticks a hand out unprompted, grinning brightly. “What's your name?”
“Uh-” Kayn blinks at him. This is not usually how this goes. He wonders briefly if he should just shove him into the dirt, steal his money, and dash off – but now he'd almost feel bad. The other kid is small, he doesn't actually want to hurt him. He never really wanted to hurt anyone. “I'm Kayn.”
“Nice to meet you, Kayn!” Ezreal reaches out to grab his hand when he doesn't offer it, shaking it vigorously. “Do you know how to get to the park from here?”
“Which park?” There are at least five, some more dangerous to sleep in than others.
Ezreal wrinkles his nose, thinking for a moment, then shrugs at him. “Is there one with a fountain? Maybe somewhere to lay in the grass? Or a tree to climb?”
He's just described every park in the city, give or take. Kayn is beginning to get the feeling this kid might not get out much, and feels even worse about his plans to shove him into the dirt and take his money... but maybe they can each get something out of this.
“If you've got any coin I can show you around,” he offers, gesturing to Ezreal's fancy clothes. “You don't really look like you're from here, and you don't have an adult with you...”
Ezreal claps his hands, laughing in delight as he nods at Kayn. “You're right! I'm running away for an afternoon. They'll catch me eventually, but I want to see the park first – they never let me go there.”
Spoiled sheltered rich kid? Kayn can work with that.
“Well, I can get you there pretty sneakily, but I can't do it for free.” Kayn shrugs at him, deciding to meet Ezreal's honesty with his own. “I'm hungry and need to buy food tonight.”
The boy frowns at him, eyes flicking like he's just now taking in Kayn's shabby clothes and thin body. “Well, I'll get you food on the way there then.”
“...really?” Sounds too good to be true. Probably is. “Why? You don't even know me.”
“I don't like it when I'm hungry,” Ezreal shrugs at him, like it's that simple. “I get cranky when my stomach hurts, and I don't think it would be fun to play in the park like that, and if I'm going to get food with you there it's rude if I don't get you food too.”
Which is how Kayn finds himself sitting in a tree with more food than he's ever eaten in one sitting – meat and bread and sweets with a jar of tea, the most delicious feast he's ever had in his entire life. It was a pain in the ass to get it all up there in the first place, but at least nobody will come looking for them up here, probably.
“Wow, this place sure is nice and green,” Ezreal chirps, wiping his greasy fingers on the legs of his white trousers, legs swinging in the open air. “It's way more fun than the gardens.”
“Gardens sound nice too,” Kayn thinks aloud, not that he's ever really seen any except from behind a gate around the fancy manors – and people don't like it when he loiters around there. “Colorful probably.”
“Depends on the season, but yeah.” Ezreal nods at him. “You can come see them sometime if you want!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, people come into the grounds all the time, there's a whole open court time thingy that my uncle has to do every week. I'm sure it's no big deal if you come, then we can play again!” Ezreal is beaming at him, hands fluttering as he talks. “I bet you can come all the time! I never have anyone to play with – maybe you can even stay there, since we have a lot of extra beds and you...”
Kayn cuts a look at him as Ezreal trails off awkwardly, wondering if the boy isn't as naive as he looks.
“And I what?”
“It's just...” The boy fiddles with his hands and cringes. “I don't mean to be rude , but it seems like maybe you don't get to sleep inside very often. You look kinda like the guards do when they come back wet from a long night’s watch.”
Kayn takes a bite of his sweetbread, thinking as he chews on it. Decides that the other boy probably doesn't mean any harm by it – and he did buy him a whole bunch of food, and he said he would still pay him too... maybe if he sees him more often he can get more coins and meals out of him. Wherever he lives has guards and gardens, probably one of the nicer manors, so there's no chance Kayn is going to be able to get inside without an explicit invitation, and even then it’s a longshot unless this kid is really spoiled.
“I don't,” he admits.
“Do your parents not have a house?” Ezreal asks him, looking concerned now.
“No parents.”
“Oh!” The kid actually brightens up at that, beaming at him like dead parents are a good thing . “Me neither!”
Which is not at all what Kayn expected from someone dressed so well. He can't help the skeptical squint he aims at him. “Really? You seem kinda like someone gives a shit about you.”
“Oh they do,” Ezreal assures him, “but that's because they have to keep me alive or they all get into big trouble.”
That clears up exactly nothing in Kayn's mind, but a fellow orphan is a fellow orphan at least.
“Well.” He reaches out and pats Ezreal's shoulder, heedless of his own sticky fingers. “I'm sorry your parents are dead too.”
“Yeah, sucks doesn't it?” Ezreal nods, kicking his feet again. There's a flash of a frown across his face, then it's gone and he's turning to beam up at Kayn again. “At least I have a friend now.”
Kayn blinks at him, a little taken aback. Him? Friends?
“I never really get to have them,” Ezreal continues with a little laugh, “There aren't really any other kids around, and the ones who are around sometimes are too scared to play with me.”
“You're not scary,” Kayn laughs, looking the boy up and down again. He might weigh about the same as Kayn, but only because he's been well fed. The kid is undoubtedly soft – he probably doesn't even know how to throw a punch. Heck, he probably couldn't even come up with a really good insult if he had to. Kayn could push him out of this tree right now and face no consequences.
“I'm glad you think so!” Ezreal laughs again – he laughs a lot, it's nice. “Because we're friends now, right? Friends shouldn't be scared of each other.”
“Yeah, sure.” Kayn shrugs at him as he kicks his own feet. “We can be friends.”
“Good... because I think I'm about to have to go home.”
“What? Why?” Kayn can't help but frown at him – he hates to admit it, but he's actually been having a nice time with Ezreal. This is probably the best day he's had since... well... ever.
“Because that's Master Zed, and I think he's gonna be mad at me.”
Kayn follows the line of Ezreal's arm as he points into the park, finding a small troop of castle guards amassed near the entrance – one of them in particular is striding right toward their tree.
“Should we try to outrun him?” Kayn asks him, leaning to gauge the distance down from the branch they’re perched on. “We could probably drop without breaking anything.”
“Nah, I've been gone for a while, he'd probably get in trouble too if he doesn't bring me back.”
“Oh.” Kayn doesn't know what to do with the pang he feels at the thought. “So, I guess maybe I'll see you... sometime then? The next time you run away?”
“Well, maybe I have an idea.” Ezreal grins at him, back to full mischief as he plucks the food from Kayn's lap – and Kayn doesn't even try to hit him for it. “Here, you hop down first and I'll pass this to you.”
Kayn does as he's told, shimmying down the tree before reaching up to take the food from Ezreal – one eye on the approaching Zed guy the whole time. He looks mad.
“Here, now catch me!” Ezreal chirps.
“Wha- oof- ” Kayn grunts as he finds himself confronted with a small flying body, wrapping his arms around the kid on instinct as he flings himself from the branch. He staggers a step backward, trips over something, and lands on his butt. “Ow.”
“Sorry!” Ezreal looks horrified as he scrambles from Kayn's lap, reaching down to pull him up. “I thought you were ready.”
“Prince Ezreal!” The Zed guy's voice is gruff and exasperated as he runs the last bit of distance to them, clamping a hand down on Ezreal's shoulder like he might escape. “What have I told you about running off? And we don't tackle the people of Piltover.”
“But Kayn is my friend!” Ezreal pouts up at him, reaching out to wrap his hand around Kayn's skinny wrist. “He caught me! And he's kept me nice and safe all day, right, Kayn?”
Kayn looks between the two of them – at the sigil on the man's armor. The fancy clothes that Ezreal has on – now covered in dust and grass stains and grease from their lunch. Prince Ezreal. Ezreal the actual Prince of Piltover. Not some rich kid named Ezreal.
Who he was going to try to pickpocket, and sorta maybe seems like he kidnapped for a day?
Crap.
“Right?” He squeaks, staring at the man wide-eyed. “He wanted to go play at the park and I knew where it was?”
Zed looks him over like he can see right through him, taking in his shabby clothes and skinny frame, and for the first time in a while Kayn feels the tickling of shame he thought he'd lost.
“Did you now?”
“Can Kayn come live with us?” Ezreal asks him, his grip not budging an inch as he steps closer to Kayn, pulling at Zed's hold. “Did you see him catch me? He's pretty strong, and he runs really fast. I bet he'd make a good knight!”
Zed snorts a laugh, casting a look at Kayn again. “Have you ever even seen a sword, boy?”
Kayn feels his hands twitch. The nervous smile drops from his face.
He can smell the blood in the air. Feel it sticky and slippery on his hands. Taste it where it drips into his mouth. The sword had been too heavy, but it cut all the same. It gave him calluses that never quite faded – life never let his hands get soft the way Ezreal's is around his wrist. He could pick one up right now and use it, he’s as sure of that as he is of his next breath.
He looks Zed in the eye and wonders if he knows what it's like to see a sword. To really see one.
“Yes.”
“See? He's halfway there!” Ezreal grins, shaking at Kayn's wrist as he wiggles in excitement. “Please, can we take him home? I promise I'll be good! I won't run away again for so long, because I'll have Kayn to keep me company! We can play together, and he can keep me from getting lost! He knows where like everything is around here, and he knows all the places to avoid, it's a great idea, right?”
Zed sighs, rubbing at his face with his free hand. He looks at Kayn again, tired and more than a little knowing.
“Do you need to bring anything?” He asks like he's being polite. Like he already knows the answer.
Kayn appreciates it, but there's nothing in his alley that hasn't already been stolen after having been away all day.
“No, sir.”
“Does that mean we can keep him?” Ezreal asks, heart in his eyes as he bounces on his toes. “Please Master Zed? Pleeeaaaasssssee?”
“ Yes .” It's a grunt – hardly out before Ezreal is throwing himself at Kayn to hug him, giggling with glee.
“See, Kayn? I knew you'd be a great friend!” Kayn freezes in his arms, hesitating a second before awkwardly patting Ezreal on the back. It’s the first hug he’s gotten since- “Now we can have fun together forever, it'll be great!”
“We can always use another squire,” Zed shrugs, throwing his hands into the air. “And you seem to have at least an ounce of common sense, unlike our Prince here. Maybe you'll be good for him.”
“Thank you, sir?”
That's how he finds himself being tugged by the hand through the dusty streets of Piltover – up through the cobbled town square and through the massive mechanical gates of the castle proper. He's given a final excited hug as the Prince is tugged from him, still chattering at him a mile a minute as he's led away half-backward, promising Kayn they'll have fun adventures tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that.
Kayn finds himself almost dizzy with it all as he's led to a bath house so he can scrub down for the first time in months – then given fresh clothing and boots in his size, nice warm ones that aren't even itchy. Master Zed leads him to a bunk, hands him a key to a trunk, and tells him he'll get three hot meals a day and training to be a squire. That he'll be the Prince's companion from now on... and to remember who to thank for his change of fortune.
“Welcome to your new life as your Prince's shadow, Shieda Kayn.” The man claps a hand to his shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes. “May you serve him well and faithfully.”
Later, when he settles into the first real bed he's ever slept in, he thinks of his prince's bright grin. He’d aimed it so happily at Kayn, who had nothing to offer in return but himself.
And somehow that had been enough.
He thinks, as he drifts off, that if that's all he has to offer in return…
He'll offer all of it.