Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The only way to tell time in Stillwater is listening to the announcements.

Time works differently here. We don’t have hours or minutes. I couldn’t tell you how late it is if my life depended on it. All we know is the trickle of announcements that defines our every day.

A day is split up into six sections. Roll call first, announced by an earsplitting siren to get you out of bed, then we get what they generously call breakfast. It’s a grey slop you could build a house with.
Next comes cell time; we don’t get to be around each other much. They don’t want to lose more prisoners than they already have. Lunch and dinner are combined into one unholy amalgamation consisting of a stew the contents of which I frankly don’t want to know. It’s easier to eat if you look away.
If you’ve been a good puppy all week, they let you walk around a room. Maybe you even get a book to bore your way through. I wouldn’t know. They call it „Activity Time“ but it sounds like a threat over the tinny speakers the announcements are pushed through.
At the end of the day you lie down on a bed harder than the floor, stare at the ceiling, and eventually the siren pulls you into the next day.

I’m wading through a day like any other. My cell’s pipe has been blocked for a week or so and I’ve almost grown accustomed to the smell. It’s only really bad when I come back from the comparatively fresh air of the canteen.

Still, I’m looking forward to dinner. Lunch. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be called, only that it doesn’t really fit either definition. The announcements call it “Meal Time”, even though I consider “meal” to be a stretch of the imagination in this case.

Someone down the corridor is whistling a fast tune. I wish I knew who it was so I could tell them to shut up and stare at the wall like we’re all doing. Whistling reminds me too much of Milo and how he’d stick his tongue between his teeth when he was working hard on his lock picking.

I turn around on my bed. Just like “meal”, “bed” sounds deceptively nice. I don’t sleep on it, just lay there waiting for the next beep, the next footsteps, the next thing to focus on so that I don’t fall into the void.

This time, the next thing is the clanging of metal on metal. I get up and walk to the cell door. The door is too narrow for me to see down the corridor, but I can guess what’s going on. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of the warden’s beating stick driving hard against cell bars as he’s searching for his next toy.

The best way to avoid what’s going to happen next is to sit on your bed, not too far away but also not too close to the door, and look at him but only once so that he knows he has your attention. At least, that works if you’re not already his target.

I let out a sigh and lean against the wall to the right of the cell door so that he’ll see me as soon as possible. If I’m his next punching bag, I prefer to know without any hiding. This way I can face the pain head-on.

His belly reaches the cell door before he does. I have to look up at his ugly mug so he knows I’m not backing down. Like every other time, he stops at my door, and like every other time, I smile back at him. This will be over soon enough and I’ll be able to go back to staring at the bricks.

“Glad to see you’re still here,” he says. I can watch his teeth decay as he speaks.

“Don’t be so happy yet.” I cross my arms. “What do you want? You’re still picking on people half your size?”

I don’t know why I would say something like that. My mouth, ever bigger than my brain, went off like a gun and as the smoke clears away, I realise that I should’ve shown him more respect.

The warden laughs, a sound like oil bubbles popping. He throws the door open. “Actually, I came here to bring a message you would’ve loved to hear.” Two big steps and he’s in the cell. The door closes behind him. There’s no way out.
“But I think I’ll teach you some manners first.”

Lunch or dinner comes eventually. After the beating, the warden left without another word. I didn’t ask him what he’d wanted to tell me, not when I had to right my nose and pray it would heal the right way.

My tray on the table in front of me, I start digging into my “meal” and try not to smell it. Then I look around to distract myself from what I was eating, though it quickly turns out that all I’m looking at are people I wish I hadn't seen today.

These are the people we were told to stay away from when we were four little kids on Vander’s couch. The Undercity makes you do whatever you have to to survive, sure, but some people have always gone a little too far. Unspoken rules are still rules and if you decide to break them you can be sure that some unhappy, overeager, young and dumb snitch will get you a place in Stillwater. Or you go to Piltover and get in trouble all by yourself.

I scarf down the rest of what’s on my tray and, when the siren goes off, I’m already waiting at the door, perfectly content with going back to my cell.

After the first thousand days I learned how to live here. I survived until then with the little knowledge about Stillwater I’d picked up from rumours and tall tales told to a young girl, but it took me a while until I knew how to deal with the bricks around me so it didn’t feel like they were pushing in on me every hour of every day.

Training is one of the few things I can really focus on to pass the time. Yes, my knuckles are red and my hands hurt constantly, but I feel more alive than ever when all I have to do is swing left and right and hit the wall. There’s a power in knowing I could get myself out of situations like the one that brought me here. Most of the bricks in my cell at eye level have dents. I like to imagine they’re the faces of everyone I’ve ever hated. Silco and the warden make especially frequent appearances.

Tonight I don’t look at the cell walls. I don’t want to see any more faces.

All I do is sit down opposite the cell door and stare into space. Every time I blink, I see the day I came in here. How they threw me into this cell and locked the door without explaining anything. I’d been awake for hours for the paperwork, when they told me to sign more forms than I’d seen my whole life without telling me about any of them, so when I got in here, even though I was scared to death and crying for my sister, I fell asleep. I had the worst nightmare the night I came in here because, when I woke up, it didn’t stop.

Suddenly, a shadow in front of the door pulls me out of my daydreams and I stand up as quickly as possible. A hooded figure steps into the light, face hidden from view.

“Who are you?”

No response. The slim figure creeps closer and whispers something I only hear because I carefully stepped towards the door.
The words make my ears ring. Goosebumps cover my body.

“I have an offer you can’t refuse,” is all the voice says.

It’s enough.

Chapter Text

Dark walls envelop us as the mysterious figure walks fervently ahead.

I pride myself on having a good sense of direction, having been the one in our group who brought us home no matter where we’d landed, but after the tenth turn around a corner that looks identical to every other, I accept that I have no idea where we’re heading.

And even if I did know, there’s nothing I can do to get out of whatever plan is already laid out for me. That lesson I had to learn the hard way.

My steps echo along the hallway. Strangely, the figure in front of me walks completely silently. They don’t even give me a step or breath to figure out just who it is that I’m following.

As we continue walking, I try not to think about the fact that whoever they are, they don’t seem concerned in the least about me escaping. Since we’ve left my cell, they've kept their eyes forward. That’s something you only do when you know you have all the best cards. And the way it seems to come so naturally to them, I know they’ve had the winning hand for far too long.

A few times during the seemingly endless walk, I consider speaking up. I know a younger me would’ve asked what was going on already. But younger me doesn’t know what bones they break if you ask too many questions. I keep my mouth shut.

Due to the endless nature of the hallways, I have no idea how much time has passed when we finally reach a bulky mechanical door like every other one in here.
I try not to act too surprised when it opens with a whoosh.

We quickly step inside. For a second, I wonder if we went in circles because the room we’re in looks almost identical to my cell. Dingy grey walls that look at you like you did something wrong, a floor indistinguishable from the one outside in the hallway. The only difference is that, instead of a bed and pipework, the only furniture in here is a square table with two chairs, one on either side.

It reminds me of the interrogation room they took me into when I first got here, only that this room’s much nicer and no one’s screaming at me yet.
When I look back at the person who brought me here, I’m surprised to see that she’s taken off her cloak. In front of me stands a woman slightly taller than me, skin almost as pale as mine, her brown hair gathered at the back of her head. She looks intimidating in a way entirely different to the warden. If it weren’t for her fancy red dress and jewelry, I could see her standing behind the bar at The Last Drop.

As she moves to sit down, she starts talking.

“My name is Elora but you will address me as Miss.” She gestures to the other chair. “Take a seat. This might take a while.”

Once I’ve sat down, Elora takes a deep breath. “I know this must be confusing. Do you have any questions before we start?”

Her face looks kind and sharp as a knife at the same time. This is a woman who’s dealt with enemies, though I doubt she’s the kind to fight with anything other than her words. Maybe words can be enough. She seems to know how to use them, otherwise she wouldn’t be here right now.

I try to focus. There are so many questions to ask. I don’t know how much she knows, so I don’t ask her the questions that really burn in my heart.
How is Powder?
Why am I in here?
When will I finally be back home?
What did I do wrong?

All I dare to ask is the obvious question. “Why are you here?” My voice sounds rough. I realise my throat’s dry and my nose is still aching, which doesn’t make speaking any easier.
Elora nods. Her voice, though gentle and light, fills the room like that of a queen.

“As I said before, I have a deal for you. A mutually beneficial agreement.”

I barely manage to resist the urge to scoff. That’s not how deals work. Everyone knows that a deal is there to help one party no matter what problems it causes for the other.
When you’re on the receiving end of one, your only chance is to figure out just how many problems it’ll cause you and if it’s really worth the risk. So I do.

“What kind of deal?” I try to sound tough like the other inmates. They raise their voices and snap at you if you come too close. I make myself bigger too. My arms crossed, I sit up in my chair just enough to be bigger than Elora.

She responds as if nothing happened. “All you will need to worry about for now is that it’ll get you out of here.”

I almost jump out of my chair. Her face is as calm as before.

Maybe this is a dream. That makes sense. Of course this is all some sort of fever dream. Maybe the broken plumbing made me sick.
Sure. I mean, in what world would someone like her come to a prison to ask an inmate for a deal?

My lips slowly contort into a smile. Then, just to make sure, I laugh. “Good joke,” I say between two chuckles. “Real good. Now can I go back to my cell?”

Elora takes a deep breath. “I thought you might react like this.” She reaches under the table and removes something from its underside. I watch her, entranced by how gently she moves around this world.

I’m so focused that I only realise she’s put something on the table when she clears her throat.

Again, I’m reminded of my first day in Stillwater. A stack of forms in front of me, though they turn into something less scary with a few calm breaths.
These aren’t contracts to make me sign my life away. It’s just papers with photos and names on them. I frown. Who are these people? They’re all neatly arranged headshots, but not mugshots. I know wealth when I see it and it’s impossible to ignore here. Whoever they are, they’re rich and powerful.

Elora seems to recognise my confusion. “The people you’re seeing here are members of the Council of Piltover.”

I look at her.

“They’re important,” she adds. Then she takes away some of the pages so I’m greeted by a particularly big photo of a thin, pale man with blond hair. He’s not smiling at the camera like some of the others, instead he acts politely disinterested.

“This is councilor Allira Salo. He’s a new addition to the council.”

I nod. Then something in me bubbles over and I gain the confidence to ask “Why do I need to know this?” I can barely hear my own voice, yet Elora answers immediately.
“The reason I’m here is very simple and it has to do with these people.” She clears her throat and points at councilor Salo.

“A few nights ago, someone attempted to assassinate him. He was found cowering in his closet after he’d called for help. His house was a mess, but nothing was reported as stolen. Now the council members are desperate for security.”

Elora smiles, an expression more mischievous than what I would have expected from her, especially after news like this. She continues in a monotone voice. I wonder if she’s told this story before.

“I was sent here by a party interested in using these circumstances to gain control of the city and improve it.”

I frown. “What?” That doesn’t sound right. I doubt she’s telling the truth, even though she looks sincere when she replies.

“I’m here on behalf of someone who wants to take advantage of the situation to improve Piltover. And the Undercity,” she quickly adds. “The council is an inefficient system, with too few people to have good ideas and too many to come to any real conclusions. It’s been months since the last change in legislature and that was a minor replacement.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”

It takes me a few seconds but, just as Elora starts speaking, I realise that she might be here because she thinks I did it. Or someone above her thinks I did. This could be some elaborate setup to get me to admit something I’ve never done and find a scapegoat to blame the whole situation on, if any of it’s true at all.

I take a deep breath and remember tricks Vanders taught me to calm myself and find the truth hidden beneath layers of polite contracts so I wouldn’t get swindled. Ignoring Elora, I dig through the other papers.

There are newspaper articles and reports of the situation. So that part’s true.

The more I think about it, the less reasonable it seems that she would come here just to get me to admit a crime. They don’t care about getting people to admit crimes. I didn’t have to say anything to get in here. And anyways, I was in Stillwater the whole time, with footage to prove it, so it’s unlikely that this is some big setup.

“Should I repeat myself?”

I look up and realise that I’ve completely missed what Elora just said. In trying to find out more, I ignored a chance to investigate the source. But even though I’ve messed up the papers and I didn’t listen, Elora looks calm and ready to say it all again. I wonder if she’s really real. She has more patience than anyone I’ve ever met put together.

After a quick nod from me, she speaks again. This time I listen.

“Upon reviewing your record, the person who sent me here decided that you could be an important asset. The plan is simple.”

She looks around. I start to wonder just what she’s going to say next when she breaks the tense silence that’s slowly been building up.

“We will position spies in the homes of all members of the Council. The current situation gives us the perfect opportunity for this, as they’re in need of security and bodyguards with a recommendation are received with a smile more often than not. So if you accept, you will take up the position of bodyguard at the side of one of these people–” she gestures back to the photos on the table “--and you will report back to me everything that you learn while they speak freely in the privacy of their own home. “

“What will you do with the information?” I know, of course, but I want to hear it from the mouth of someone so elegant. Blackmail isn’t a word people like her use.

Elora clears her throat. “We will use the information to shape the Council’s decisions in order to more rapidly improve Piltover and the Undercity.”

I want to tell her just how little Piltover and its Council have ever done for anyone in the Undercity but I decide not to because I have no idea how to get out of this room without her.

In the silence that unfolds, I realise that there’s really no way I’ll get out of this without agreeing with her. I know too much now. The risk of me talking to other inmates and letting this spicy secret spill is too high. Even if I don’t know who it is that sent Elora, just knowing that a plot like this is in the works could make me too valuable to ever go back to my cell.

“And all I have to do is pretend to be a bodyguard?” I think of the bouncers in front of The Last Drop. I always wanted to be like them, big and strong and protecting something worth protecting. Never in my life did I think I’d end up protecting Pilties.

Elora nods. “We will practice everything you’ll have to do before sending you off to a council member. All you have to do is make sure they’re not harmed and, occasionally, I will contact you to arrange a meeting where you’ll tell me everything that’s going on.”

If this ever gets out, I’m screwed. The council will be furious that they’ve been blackmailed and, if whoever I’ll have to protect finds out I’m a spy, I’ll face things worse than Stillwater.

As if sensing my discomfort, Elora continues with “If anything about the matter is leaked, you will be immediately pulled from your position and brought to a safe place. The deal will be terminated but you will continue to be an asset.” Her voice drops to a menacing tone. “The only way to get out of this is delivering sufficient information without revealing anything about your identity. It’s that easy to get home.

“So?” Elora folds her hands on the table. “What do you say?”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wind whips through my shoulder-length hair as I stand on the deck of a boat.
I try to understand what just happened, but all I can focus on is the silhouette of Stillwater slowly fading away in the distance. It gets harder and harder to see with the moon as the only light source.

Fog rolls over the water and rocks like it wants to say goodbye to me. I relish the feeling of tiny dewdrops on my skin as it envelops the boat for a few seconds before someone turns on some technology to keep it away. The outside is much nicer than I remembered.
I think about the past hour.

Once I’d agreed, a door had opened up on the other side of the room. As we walked away I tried not to think about my cell and everything that I was leaving behind – it was, quite frankly, a stupid thought. All I’d wanted for the better part of three years was to get out of Stillwater. But it had raised me like the Undercity had raised me, a corrupted reflection of The Last Drop where I’d learned how to survive.

Elora has left me alone, whether to give me a chance to gather myself or because she saw the transaction as complete I don’t know. Until now, the only things she’s said are where I had to go. I don’t even know if she’s on this ship.

My way out of Stillwater was far harder. I think the only reason they let me out at all, after a few more documents and having me walk along the cells so the others knew to hate me, was because Elora stared at the warden and his team like she had all the power. Maybe she did.

I prop my arms up on the side of the boat and look away from Stillwater. That pile of bricks has taken up enough of my life. I don’t need it to poison my freedom now that I’m finally out.

Instead of the prison, I look at the dark water. Thoughts like “I could jump out and swim away, find The Last Drop. Find Powder” and “What have I gotten myself into?” mangle together in my head.

Of course there’s no way I’m getting off this boat before I’m supposed to. Enforcers with rifles stand guard in the shadows. They’re all too eager to wipe out another member of my family. I look at them with all the hate I can muster. It’s not enough.

To distract myself from everything that’s happened, I try to think about what I’m going to do with my newfound freedom. I know I’ll have to push down the urge to run away and find Powder, at least for a little while. As soon as I’ve ratted out whatever corrupted politician they stick me with, I’m out. All Elora has to say is that I’ve held up my end of the deal and I’ll be running down the street until I’m back home.

But there’s other things, smaller things, that I’ll be able to do even if I have to stay in someone else’s house. I want to cut my hair with something other than a rusty razor gathered off the floor. I need to get out of these prison clothes. And, even though I know it will hurt, I want to look at a mirror to see how much I’ve changed these past years.

I take a deep breath. There’s so much waiting for me once we reach the shore. Elora didn’t say where we’ll be going, but I know that she won’t let me walk around on my own. I’m too valuable and dangerous for that.

I’m not sure how much time passes. There’s no clocks or light to help me figure it out, but at least I’m used to that now. The moon has hidden herself away behind clouds, so I can barely see my hand in front of my eyes.

Eventually, the ship comes to a standstill. It jolts around and, according to my ears, hits a few rocks, but the captain manages to dock and soon enough enforcers are starting to leave the deck.

“Come on,” one of them says. He grabs my arm and pulls me away from the railing. It’s all I can do to not break his nose. I’m sure Elora wouldn’t be happy if I hurt him.

I try to walk with the enforcers, but the guy tightens his grip on my arm and shoves me from side to side. I almost fall off the gangway as we make our way down because it doesn’t have a railing and it’s barely big enough for two people, nevermind someone trying to push someone else off..
“Stop that,” I tell him. All that leads to is chuckling from him. I take a deep breath.

We’re still on the gangway, held up by others in front of us, when he changes hands and grips my left arm with his left hand. I look at him, wondering what he’s doing, but I notice soon enough.

His other hand’s wandering to my butt. He stands still, as if pretending that he’s not doing anything. Then he squeezes.

My fist connects with his helmet before I even know that I wanted it to. I don’t care if I should hurt him or not. He needs to deal with the consequences of his actions.

A sickening crunch from inside the helmet tells me that I’ve been training well. I deliver a hook to his torso and step on his feet. His grip on my arm loosens. The hand that’s been wandering down pulled back to support himself by gripping one of his buddies’ shoulders, I’m finally free again, and I use that to my advantage.

He’s lighter than I thought. I consider lifting his whole body, but I’ve got enough control with my hands under his armpits that I can lift him just the tiniest bit. “Fuck you,” I say, spitting on his helmet before I throw him off into the cold and dark water. He screams on his way down.

The other enforcers don’t do anything. One of the ones that have already made their way to the ground starts wading into the water, but I’m not even punished for defending myself. Odd.

I hear thrashing coming from below the gangway. Disappointed to not have met my goal, I keep my head down until I’m fully off the ship and my feet are finally on solid ground again.

They have me escorted by a group of five enforcers. None of them dare to touch me. I try to look around to see where we’ve landed, but it all just looks like a regular harbour at night.

Some small part of me wonders if the bag of riches Powder had to throw away is around here. That thought quickly dies down when we enter Piltover.
Technically the harbour is already Piltie property, but I only really realise where I am when tall buildings who would think of “old” as a compliment rise into the sky. I remember running around up there, on roofs so nice they must have been cleaned twice a day.

Piltover is an interesting and incredible city if you’re not from the Undercity. They pride themselves on their roads, walked by people in fancy clothes, and on their houses that have multi-room apartments for anyone willing to sell their soul.

I’ve only been up here a few times, so as we walk along alleys dark as soot at this time of night I have no chance of figuring out where we’re going. I remember pouring over maps of Piltover at Benzo’s the night before the heist that ruined everything but thinking back to that time, all I can remember is my anxiety about messing up.

The enforcer in front of me stops so suddenly that I almost run into them. They turn around to face me and gesture to the building on our right.
I look at the building and realise that we’re in front of a door. It’s an elaborate door, decorated with tiny golden flowers and a doorknob that’s barely usable with all its carvings. I don’t understand why they would waste their money on making a door pretty.

“Inside,” the enforcer says, and before I can do anything, I’m pushed toward the pretty door. I’m afraid I’ll crash into it when it opens as though by magic – this isn’t one of Stillwater’s doors, sliding in and out of walls, but instead a real wooden door just opening on its own.

The enforcers behind me shove me inside and the door closes again. I feel stupid when I see that there’s a person holding the doorknob. It’s a man with simple but elegant clothes, slightly taller than me. He takes one look at me and bows slightly.

“Right this way,” he says with a voice so soft I wonder if it was really him who said it. Looking around, I notice that it’s just us. None of the enforcers came in with me. Apparently Elora trusts me. Or maybe this guy has a gun in his shiny shoes.

The man – I don’t want to think of him as a servant – starts walking ahead. I take my time to look around the entrance hall.

It’s a relatively small apartment building, I’m sure, at least by Piltie standards. The hall we’re in has an elevator and a set of stairs leading up to the apartments, but no other rooms on this floor. The walls and floors look like they’re made out of some type of marble. I wonder if the apartment we broke into had a similar entrance hall downstairs.

Once I’m done with gawking at something as simple as an entrance hall, I follow the man, who stopped to wait for me on the stairs, and we walk up together.

“Who are you?” I ask him somewhere around floor five.

He doesn’t reply. All he does is turn around to look at me for a second.

A few floors later he starts talking, but he still doesn’t answer my question. “Miss is already waiting for you. The boat took a little longer than expected.”
“How did she get here?”

He hesitates, as if considering if I’m allowed to know, and then finally replies to a question of mine. “She came here by airship. It’s more expensive and less secretive, so a boat was chosen for everyone’s benefit for your transport.”

Makes sense. I’d be confused too if I saw an airship flying around at night with enforcers on it. Still, I envy Elora for having been able to see the sky from that high up.

I don’t know what floor we’re on, only that it’s two digits, when we finally stop walking. My legs hurt; I realise that I really wasn’t walking around much in Stillwater. That’s something I’ll have to take care of if I want to move around this city.

“Just through here and turn to the left. Miss is waiting in the kitchen.”

He produces a key from his coat pocket and quickly opens the door. I move forward to enter and, just like that, he disappears. I wish I knew his name. It feels wrong to think of him as some nameless servant.

I look down the stairs to see if I can spot him, but he’s already gone, so all I can do is enter the apartment.

Inside, I’m immediately overcome with memories. Although it’s clearly not a lab or space for work, the apartment looks a lot like the one that blew up. I wonder if it’s just a coincidence or if the Pilties all have the same taste in interior design.

The apartment’s barely decorated. All that’s in here are some bigger pieces of furniture – a shoe rack near the door, a shelf to hang expensive coats, and further down the hallway is the living room with a big couch in front of a fireplace. All of it is in the same beige and gold tones, with some occasional blue accents.

As I think about it, I wonder if this is some sort of safe house. Clearly no one has been living here for ages, it seems far enough away from the city centre to not be under constant supervision but also not too far away that it’s impossible to get to the centre for supplies. I don’t really care, seeing as how I’ll be living with the councilor I’m sent to, but it’s interesting to think that the people in this building have no idea they’re neighbors to a safe house.
The door to my left is open, so, remembering the instructions I was given, I walk into the kitchen.

“Good to see you.”

I almost jump out of my shoes. Elora’s hidden from view by shadows in the corner of the room. There’s a table in front of her with four chairs and to the right is a kitchenette with a small island. This apartment isn’t made for a lot of people.

“You too,” I reply, eager to turn on the light.

Elora seems to recognise that. With a flick of her hand, the lamp above us turns on and illuminates her face. She looks the same as before. I’m sure I look worse than in Stillwater.

“Please sit down.” She gestures to the table in front of her. We sit down opposite each other.

“How did you find your journey?” Her face looks polite but disinterested. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the Pilties’ need for small talk.

I sigh. “Let’s cut to the chase. What are we doing here?”

“Very well.” Elora clears her throat. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to some new clothes. And, perhaps, a haircut.” It’s almost funny to see how she tries to tell me I look awful without violating some unspoken societal norms.

“That’d be great.” I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. Now that I’m finally sitting, I realise how tired I am.

“Since it’s so late, I will leave you to your devices until the morning. Then you will get a chance to clean up and change into something more suitable. Afterwards, I will bring you to your first job.”

I perk up. “I’m gonna work for a councilor?”

Elora nods but hesitates briefly before replying. “You will meet your sponsor. Tomorrow won’t be a big job, just a way to introduce you to the people you’ll be protecting if everything goes well. Think of it like a test run.”

I think about it. Tomorrow I’ll let go of the last reminders I have of Stillwater. My clothes will become trash, my hair will fill the drain and I’ll finally get to look at myself.

Elora smiles. “Now go to bed. You’ve earned it.”

I stagger around the apartment for a few moments, trying to figure out which of the doors leads to a bedroom, and when I finally find it I hear the front door close as Elora leaves.

There's peace in knowing that I can finally rest. I try not to let it spoil by thinking about everything I could mess up tomorrow. All I have to do is anger my sponsor and that’s it for freedom. I’ll be taken to a quiet place and discreetly disposed of. Awesome.

That night, I take a hot shower and leave the doors open.

I fall asleep as soon as my head touches the cloudy-soft pillow.

Chapter Text

I’m woken up by a shrill alarm on my bedside table. I didn’t even see I had a bedside table when I went to bed. The alarm won’t turn off with any of the buttons I press, so I decide that Elora won’t mind and throw the whole thing hard against the wall. That shuts it up.

I feel like I’m back in my room and I’m a child again. The urge to groan and pull the blanket over my head grows stronger but I know that Elora will be waiting for me. And I don’t want to disappoint her already.

Rubbing my eyes to get used to the brightness of the apartment as sunlight streams in through the many windows, I stumble to the kitchen and sit down at the table. I don’t know why I go there, when there’s so many other spots in here I could explore, but it feels right to wait for Elora here.

I’m slightly more awake when a knock at the front door reminds me that I’m really not in Stillwater anymore. Whoever it is might as well have barged in because that would’ve been easier than knocking and hoping I’m awake, but they didn’t. I’m back in the unseen claws of society.

With a deep breath, hoping I don’t look like this is the first good sleep I’ve gotten in months, I walk to the door and open it.

“I didn’t think you’d be awake already.”
Elora looks like she’s been out of bed for hours at this point. Her face is clean and glammed up, her hair put up at the back of her head like it’s effortless, her clothes without a single wrinkle.

I don’t reply. I don’t know what I should say. It all seems so odd now, thinking back to everything that happened in the last few hours.

Just a day ago, I was in Stillwater without any hopes of getting out any time soon. Then the woman standing in front of me came and pulled me out without really giving me any choice.

“At any rate,” she eventually continues, “I thought you might prefer to get ready before the tailor comes.”

“A tailor?” I look at her like she’s lost her mind. They don’t really have tailors, do they?

Elora blinks a few times. She pats me on the shoulder like she’s sorry for pushing me into ice-cold water without knowing if I can swim before forcing herself into the apartment. I just stand there like someone’s slapped me.

“You’re going to need a proper uniform,” she says once she’s made herself comfortable in the living room. I didn’t even notice I followed her. “We can’t just buy you any clothes, not if you’re going to represent a councilor.”

I slowly make my way to the couch and stand there, wondering if I should sit down. I don’t.

“Who am I going to represent?” I realise that I have no idea what I’m supposed to do today.

Elora sighs. “You’ll know when you need to. And all you need to know for now is that you’re going to play bodyguard to an important, highly respected councilor during her visit to Piltover’s Opera House, which will be attended by almost all members of the Council tonight.”

“But that’s not the one I’ll be assigned to, right?” I remember her saying something about that, though my memories of yesterday evening are foggy at best.

“Very good.” Elora smiles. I wonder how old she is. She doesn’t look much older than me, maybe ten years or so, but she carries herself like she’s seen it all. It reminds me of the kids in the Undercity.

“You’re right,” she continues. “Tonight will only be a presentation of you and your skills, a way to interest the councilor you’ll be assigned to in accepting you as their bodyguard. Think of it like trying to convince a friend to go to some bar you know – If you don’t tell your friend how great it is, they likely won’t come.”

I’m surprised that she talks about bars. It’s difficult to imagine her sitting in one with friends, even though she looks young. Maybe it’s because she’s a Piltie. I don’t know if they even have bars here, and if they do I’m sure they’re not nearly as good as ours.

Then I wonder if she chose a bar metaphor because she knows I’m from the Undercity. Does she know I’m from the Undercity?

“How much do you know about me?”

Elora seems surprised by the sudden change in topic. Still, she answers relatively quickly, and smiles as she does so.

“I read your file. Quite difficult to find, you know, but I didn't mind the challenge. Robbery, fleeing from the scene of the crime, small misdemeanours – that’s why we chose you. We wanted someone who knew how to fight but might have been wrongfully convicted.”

I hate her answer. It’s full of words and still empty. Of course she knows why I was in Stillwater if she was able to visit me there. But despite my growing anger at her inability to answer any question normally, I want to thank her for just saying something out loud I’ve been thinking for a long time. Wrongfully convicted.

For the majority of my stay at Stillwater, I wasn’t even sure why they brought me there. They wouldn’t tell me no matter how many times I asked. The only answer I ever got was a beating. I eventually decided that the robbery was probably good enough grounds for a conviction, but they couldn’t have known. I was the face for the whole affair, imprisoned at just the right time to be blamed for what happened. It’s almost impressive that they were lucky enough to get the right person.

I try to focus on what’s next – Elora’s saying something, but it just sounds like buzzing to my ears – but it’s difficult when I can hardly believe any of this is real. It’s like a dream became reality and everything’s just a little too good to be true. If I manage to do this, I’ll be free. My life will continue where it left off. I’ll be able to go home.
“--so just go to the bathroom and clean yourself up, she’ll be here in half an hour.”

I freeze. At least I got the last part. Instead of asking Elora what she was saying before that, I just nod and head to the bathroom. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.

As I open the bathroom door, I look down. Last night I took a quick shower, but that was it. I got right back in my dirty clothes and headed to bed. And, most importantly, I didn’t look at the mirror. Whether intentionally or because I was so tired, I’m not sure.

So I walk into the room, close the door behind me, and find the sink with my eyes glued to the ground. I feel like this is a big moment and I’m somehow going to ruin it. It’s so simple, just look at myself, but I can barely breathe.
I splash some cold water from the sink onto my face to wake myself up. Then I shake my head. This is just fear. I’ve been afraid before. I can do this.

In the mirror stands a girl who’s almost a woman. Her gray eyes stare back at me. She looks like she’s going to ask me something but stops at the last second.

She’s not the child she was before. Her body is broader, more muscular, yet some of the lankiness from before remains. On her cheek rests a tiny tattoo, the first one she got. It’s her name.

I lift up the back of my shirt and turn a little. The girl’s back is decorated with gears and smoke in black ink.
Tears sneak into my eyes. The tattoo’s not finished, I don’t think, and I know that it would have gotten bigger the longer I stayed at Stillwater, but this reminder of everything I was missing is enough to make me realise that the girl in the mirror is just a child and I need to accept her.

After a few deep breaths, I’m confident enough to look at myself without crying. Yes, I’m older, and yes, I look different from before, but I know that I’m still me. And I know that I want a haircut.

I grab a pair of small scissors and start cutting away strands. A part of me wants to go back to the hairstyle I had before Stillwater, but I know that that’s not me anymore. So I think back to an inmate I liked, a quiet woman, and I try to remember what her hair looked like.

My hair’s voluminous, just below my shoulders, but it looks like a mess because my sides are much shorter than the back, sticking out like some weird amalgamation of a bob and long hair. I start by cutting everything to the length of my sides so it reaches just below my ears, and then I cut away more parts. I make my sides as short as I can with scissors until I reach a style I like.

It reminds me of the way I wore it as a teenager, but it’s wilder, a little longer and a little more unhinged. I wonder if Elora will let me keep it this way.

Just before I hop in the shower, a knock at the bathroom door disturbs my little room of peace, but I answer as quickly as possible. It’s Elora.

“I like your hair,” she says with a smile. Then she looks at what she’s carrying and hands it over. “Just to tide you over until the tailor’s done.”

I unfold the grey fabric she’s given me. It’s a pair of loose clothes, a shirt and pants, along with some fresh underwear.

“Thank you.” I smile too. I hope she doesn’t see how happy I am to finally have something other than the scratchy uniform to wear.

Elora nods and leaves me to my own devices again. I indulge in another hot shower, this time with the soaps that were left in the shower, and when I’m done I put on the new clothes. They’re the most comfortable things I’ve worn in a long time, maybe ever. Although they’re a little big, I look better than before. I smile at myself in the mirror and head back to the living room.

It doesn’t take long until the tailor, a thin woman who looks like she accidentally sat down on a big stick, arrives and Elora tells her what she wants.

I’m told to stand in the middle of the living room and raise my arms. It reminds me of the entry test for Stillwater, but this time I don’t bawl my eyes out while the woman tells me what to do. She puts a tape measure around every possible part of my body and, when she’s done, she’s gone just as quickly as she came.

“It will take her a few hours to make your uniform, but she promised it would be ready for the Opera.”

I nod and smile, still dazed from the sheer efficiency of what happened.

The evening comes around soon enough and with it comes a delivery. Elora gets the package from downstairs and I get to unpack it. The uniform looks better than I thought it would. I was afraid it might look like the enforcers’ uniform, but I’m greeted by simple black tactical gear.

Elora leaves the apartment so I can put it on in peace and I realise that I’m excited to be a bodyguard. Putting on the uniform feels like I’m sealing the deal, and I think I’ve fully accepted the terms and conditions.

I look at myself in the mirror once I’m done. The clothes fit me perfectly and, despite their practical use, they manage to make me look elegant. The bulletproof vest over my black shirt is relatively thin but sturdy, my pants have enough pockets to carry the city’s earnings, and all of it is black with white and gold stripes, just elegant enough that I won’t stick out like a sore thumb among the rich.

Before I go outside to meet Elora, I flex my arms. I can’t help but smile at seeing how much I’ve grown from a lanky girl to this.

Elora shows me the way to a nearby tram station. From there, we enter a trolley with some other people and sit down at the back.

“How long does it take from here to the Opera?” I ask.

Elora lowers her voice. “It’s just enough time for me to tell you how this will work.” She sounds threatening and comforting at the same time with her voice calmer than ever. I just listen.

“You will not speak to or look at the councilor you’re accompanying. You defer to me. I will tell you where to go and what to do. If you have to address the councilor, which you won’t, it’s “Councilor Medarda”. You will also not engage with the other councilors or any other guests at the Opera.”
She pauses, as if to let the words sink in. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour, else this will have been a short excursion.”

We spend the rest of the tram ride talking about the Opera’s layout, where Councilor Medarda will be seated, which boxes the other councilors are in and, most importantly, what I need to do if there is actually an attack, though Elora makes it sound like that’s unlikely.

“If they really wanted to assassinate someone, they would have done so already,” she says. “It’s just a matter of time until the other councilors realise that too and feel safe again, so we need to use this window to plant as many assets as possible.”

I’m already starting to hate the scheming of the Council, but I decide not to tell Elora about my feelings. She probably has enough on her mind as is.

When we get there, I can barely contain myself. My jaw is ready to drop at the sight of the gilded Opera, one of the biggest and most beautiful buildings in all of Piltover. It has stained glass windows at the entrance, giant posters and murals with current and past shows, columns and marble and more decorations than I would have thought possible.

As we enter and I’m met with more decadence, my feelings start to turn and I wonder just how much all of this costs. So much money and they chose to spend it on a building for music. The more I see, the less I like it, and soon I start to feel disgusted at the display of wealth both in the building and by the Opera’s patrons.

Either Elora notices my disgust or we’re already behind schedule because we all but run to the right box. Up some stairs, around a few corners, and then we’re standing in front of a giant door.

Elora takes a deep breath and looks at me. She fixes my collar before turning back to the door.

“You stay behind me and when we get in there, you stand to one side of the door. You will not introduce yourself to anyone.”

With that, she opens the door.

My breath is taken away again by the sheer volume of the Opera hall. There’s enough seats to accommodate every single one of Stillwater’s inmates and then some. And, of course, there are the boxes, seats for the regulars and rich patrons of the arts above the rest.

Both the seats and the boxes are slowly starting to fill up; I think we might actually be a bit late.

As Elora instructed me to do, I enter quickly and stand to the right side of the door. Only then do I look up at the councilor.

She’s a gorgeous woman, around the same age as Elora. Her dark skin and hair contrasts against her white dress. Golden accessories in her braids match the golden streaks on her evening gown.

Councilor Medarda looks at me once, nods to me and then turns around to face the stage, of which we have an amazing view from up here. Elora quickly joins her and the two get to whispering.

I take a deep breath. All I have to do is make sure I don’t move from my spot unless I’m instructed to or there’s a big problem. I can do that.

Elora didn’t say I wasn’t allowed to look around, so I do, pretending to scan the room for threats. What I’m actually doing is looking at the other boxes I can see from where I’m standing. Although most are hidden from my view, I can spot some of the councilors I saw in the photos in Stillwater. They’re all in their finest clothes, no doubt happy to show everyone that they have the resources and influence necessary to be here.

As I look around, I wonder which one of them I’m gonna be introduced to. If everything goes well, I might be in one of these people’s houses within a few days.

Suddenly, the lights dim and the music starts swelling. Councilor Medarda and Elora look at the stage and smile. I can’t quite see what’s on the stage from my spot, but I’m sure it’s marvellous the way the others are reacting.

Despite my inability to move much or see anything, I enjoy the music. Sometimes I catch words between high notes, at other times I wonder if the whole thing is in a foreign language.

It’s all I can do to not drift off. As far as I’m concerned, the whole opera thing is just a way to signal to other rich Pilties that you’re rich as well and enjoy the fact that you’re all oh so cultured. I think the Undercity has better music to offer at every street corner, but I don’t need to tell anyone that.

“Oh yes, it is quite lovely.” Councilor Medarda is smiling at the man who survived an assassination attempt.

Salo looks like he might burst with pride at the compliment toward his choice of blouse. He’s already mentioned its price multiple times. I think I might throw him off the balcony if he does it again.

When he leaves, I start to get restless. There’s been a few members of the Council in here during the intermission and the council has said nothing about me or even bodyguards in general yet to any of them. I’m not sure how long this break is, but I’m sure it’s not long enough for her to have a nice little chat about fashion choice with every one of her colleagues.

Just as I’m starting to think that the play’s starting again, Elora comes to talk to me.

“We’ll be heading to Councilor Kiramman’s box now. You will walk behind me and the councilor and, when we walk into the box, you’ll stand to the side just as you did here.” She takes a breath and smiles. “You’re doing well so far. You look convincing. Keep it up.”

Councilor Medarda walks past me without a single word and, once she and Elora have left, I take a deep breath and follow.

We walk past many other doors along a red hallway until we finally reach a door identical to every other, with no apparent way to distinguish it except a tiny number on the doorknob.

Elora knocks, then opens the door for us and I follow the councilor in, stepping to the side as soon as possible.
“Mel, how nice to see you,” the councilor says as soon as she spots her.

Councilor Kiramman is a slightly older woman, with grey streaks starting to form in her brown hair but she wears them proudly. I wonder if old age is the same achievement here as it is in the Undercity or if she’s making a statement by not dyeing her hair.

Elora walks to the other side of the door as the two councilors exchange more pleasantries than I want to listen to. Kiramman goes on about Medarda’s shoes for a bit, then Medarda changes the topic to the last Council meeting and the two complain about the other councilors, and just as I’m wondering if the intermission can possibly get any longer, the door opens.

Councilor Kiramman smiles at the man entering. He’s wearing an elegant suit that matches the colours of her dress.

“Tobias, lovely to see you here,” Councilor Medarda immediately says. She shakes hands with him. “I didn’t know you were both here tonight. How’s Caitlyn?”

I wonder if we’re gonna stay here much longer. This whole conversation is just the same as it has been with the other councilors in a slightly different package.

Tobias answers her.

“Oh, you know, she has her ideas and it’s not always easy, but we love her for the world.”

Everyone smiles for a bit before Medarda picks up the conversation again. “You know, I’m surprised you went out on your own after what happened.” She looks at Tobias like she’s the most innocent woman in the world. Her words immediately hit.

“What do you mean?” Councilor Kiramman asks. “He just went to the bathroom.”

Medarda nods. “Of course. I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Tobias steps forward. He looks concerned now. “And what did you mean by it?”

Councilor Medarda stammers for a bit – clearly practiced, but I wonder if she’s fooling the two Kirammans – before finally finishing a sentence. “I just meant that I always feel safer with a bodyguard after that terrible attack on Allira. You never know what might happen next.” She quickly deflects. “But of course that might just be my imagination, you know how it can sometimes be.”

I watch her hit the target’s center like it’s effortless. She’s clearly got their attention. Councilor Kiramman tries to look at me without drawing any attention to it and I pretend to ignore her.

The next sentences all revolve around the attack and how horrible it was before Tobias finally asks the important question.

“Where do you get your security? We’ve been looking for a while, but there’s just no service we’re really content with.”

Medarda smiles and gestures to me, fully drawing their attention to my uniform and me. I try to straighten my back.

“I’m afraid it’s a very private service, but I’m sure I could get them to make you an offer. I’ve been entirely happy with their employees and I couldn’t imagine feeling any safer.”

The three start to whisper. I pick out a few snippets about price and being able to afford something like this. Medarda calms the Kirammans down a few times before they go back to polite conversation.

Eventually, a gong rings through the hall and Councilor Medarda excuses herself. As she leaves, she smiles at the two.

“So, tomorrow then?” Councilor Kiramman asks her and Medarda replies with a quick nod. They say goodbye to each other and with that, we’re walking back to our box.

The two women in front of me stay quiet the entirety of the walk back but as soon as I close the door behind me, they put on big smiles and celebrate their win.

“It’s been arranged,” Elora says to me when the Opera continues. “Just wait and see.”

I can’t help but smile at the thought that everything has gone perfectly until now. It’s almost too good.

Chapter Text

I spend the rest of the week walking around Piltover with Elora.

The more I see them, the less I’m impressed by its tall buildings with pretty facades. They all just blend together after a while.

Sometimes I think about escaping, but I’m always brought back to reality by the amount of enforcers stationed at every corner at every hour of the day. There’s no chance I’m making it past them and their guns.

I’m sure Elora wouldn’t take me outside or leave me on my own in the apartment if there was a chance of me getting away. Maybe there’s a chip in my clothes that’ll tell her where I am. I don’t want to take the chance.

So, instead of running, I learn polite conversation. Elora says it won’t be necessary, but I can tell that she wants me to appear less like I’m from the Undercity. I think that might make the councilors uncomfortable.

Elora teaches me how to speak about nothing at all and still make it sound pleasant. I even manage to make it sound like I’m interested in her empty answers after a few hours.

When I’m alone, I lean over the balcony’s railing. I was more than happy to learn that the apartment had a balcony. As soon as I discovered it, I started spending all my free time there.

Watching over the city makes me feel light as a feather. I try not to think of climbing up The Last Drop with Powder back when things were easier so we could see everything. She loved it up there. I’m sure she still does.

Some nights are easier than others. One time I wake up screaming because I think they’ve taken Vander and I need to do something. Another time I’m half awake and completely unable to understand why the stones I’m sleeping on are this soft.

I don’t tell Elora about those nights. She’s got enough to do without me bothering her.

Soon I realise that, even though Piltover is the nicest place I’ve ever visited, I can’t wait to have this all over with and go home.

It’s been less than five days since we were at the Opera when news from the Kirammans finally arrives.

Elora knocks on the door and I let her in. She’s holding up a cream-coloured envelope with a dark blue wax seal showing the Kiramman crest. We’re on the couch before I’ve completely understood what it means.

“Are you ready?” Elora asks me. She’s just about to open the letter.

I take a deep breath. They must have accepted the deal. Councilor Medarda was more than convincing.

Once I nod, Elora tears the paper open. There’s no music or big fanfare, yet I know that it’s good news when she skips over the sentences and smiles.

She hands me the letter without saying a single word once she’s done with it. I’m afraid to take it but there’s no way around it, so I tell myself that Elora wouldn’t react like that if this was a rejection letter.

It takes me a short while to wade through the stuck-up sentences written in cursive but, halfway through the letter, I don’t need to read any more.

“So, dear Mel,” it says, “we are impatient to finally meet this most helpful bodyguard you have recommended. We cannot thank you enough for introducing us to her and making us conscious of the faults in our security system.”

I jump up and walk around the room. Some part of me wants to believe that this isn’t real but a much larger part is screaming with joy. Only a few steps more until I’m home.

Elora smiles and congratulates me. “You’ve been very cooperative,” she says.

But there’s no time for a celebration; Elora mentions that the Kirammans are expecting me to arrive this afternoon. She runs out on some errands and tells me to get ready for departure in two hours.

For the most part, I just stand around. I walk a few steps, settle, think about what’s going to happen next and walk around again. I don’t know what Elora expects me to do. I’ve been ready since the Opera. There’s nothing for me to pack because all I own are the clothes on my back.

Because I don’t want to appear lazy, I make my bed and style my hair. Then I drink a glass of water.

Elora rushes in and out of the apartment multiple times but I’m never able to catch what she’s saying. She brings in what looks like shopping bags, one after the other.

When she’s finally done, she stares at me for a few seconds.

“These are your clothes,” she finally says. “The Kirammans won’t give you any, so we had to order some in your size.”

I can already tell that these are Piltie clothes by the lace peeking out of one bag and an embroidered sleeve hanging out of another. Goosebumps crawl up my arm at the thought of me wearing the same things as them but I try to calm myself with the reasoning that my uniform isn’t all that bad and it’s Piltie-made too.

When we reach the Kiramman mansion, it’s raining so hard that it’s difficult to make out anything more than a step away. My umbrella feels so weak that I’m concerned it might not be able to handle more than a few drops. I’m eager to get inside.

My suitcase – it’s a new one Elora brought in today, a dark brown one just on the verge of fancy, filled with all the new clothes I’m not sure I want to wear – isn’t lucky enough to have an umbrella, so it stands beside me in the rain.

Elora makes sure I’m presentable before we go to the tall iron gate that separates this “paradise of wealth,” as Elora called it just before we got here, from the rest of Piltover.

“Our first meeting will be in one week,” she says “I will contact you beforehand.”

It almost seems like she’s concerned about me. Though her words are calm as always, she looks troubled.

“You will not let anything happen to these people and you will not let them know you as anything other than a forgettable bodyguard.” She takes a deep breath.

“If you have to, keep a journal with info, but it would be preferable if you just remember key points.” With that, she turns to the gate and rings a doorbell I wouldn’t have been able to spot if I was standing right in front of it. It’s hidden from view by ivy overgrowth and, now, the rain.

Soon enough a man opens the mansion’s door and the gate swings open on its own. The man reminds me of the one who brought me up to the apartment, even though they look nothing alike. I wonder if I’ll get to know his name.

“They're waiting for you in the living room,” he says, and, after getting my suitcase so quickly I can’t even tell him I can carry it myself, he turns back to the house.

Elora puts a hand on my shoulder just before I step away to follow him.

“Be careful.” Her eyes are sad. “This world will eat you whole and spit you out again. I wish you the best.”

Before I can say anything in return, she’s gone. The rain only shows me a red silhouette walking down the street. She doesn’t seem to turn back even once.

I face the mansion and tell myself that I’ve done much scarier things than this. After a deep breath, I manage to put on a polite smile and follow the man inside.

I’m told to leave my umbrella in a tall basket. It seems silly to have a basket just for umbrellas, but then again I’m sure these umbrellas cost more than a meal. The man tells me to leave my jacket on a coat hanger and follow him to the living room.

I take a short look at myself in the floor-length mirror in the entranceway. Back in the apartment, I didn’t want to know what I look like with these new clothes, but curiosity gets the better of me as it has done countless times before.

The girl in the mirror isn’t Vi anymore. She has pink hair and the cheek tattoo, yes, but she reeks of Piltover’s streets. Her clothes are dark blue and black, as if already adapted to the Kirammans. They’re sleek, elegant pieces of fabric nothing like the comfortable shirts and pants a younger version of her liked to wear.

I cringe at myself. If Milo were here, I know he’d tell me I look ridiculous. He was never too shy to speak up.

Elora told me that these clothes would be necessary so the family wouldn’t suspect anything but I wonder if they’ll notice how uncomfortable I’m feeling and if that would raise any suspicion.

The man clears his throat and I realise that I’ve been standing there for a little too long. To make up for it, I follow him slightly too closely as we make our way to the living room.

The mansion is almost more impressive than the Opera. I can’t help but look up at the high ceiling, supported by golden beams and columns that blend into the rest of the decor. It feels like a mix between the barely-furnished apartment and the entirely too expensive Opera. I like it.

Even though I’ll be trying to get out of here as soon as possible, I think I’ll be able to enjoy my stay.

My head is still up, so I don’t even notice that we’ve moved into the living room. Only when I bump into the man and he clears his throat again do I look down and see the Kiramman couple.

Their living room is bigger than Elora’s whole apartment. Still, there’s relatively little furniture. Just a table in the middle with a couch and armchairs around it, a rug underneath, a few plants to brighten up the mood and that’s it.

I think it’s the most uncomfortable living room I’ve ever been in, mostly because of the set of big marble stairs that lead to the next floor at its end.

I take a step forward. In the middle of the stairs, positioned so every visitor can see it, is a portrait that shows the Kirammans larger than life. There’s the two Kirammans, wife and husband, and on their left are what I presume to be dogs, maybe hunting dogs.
But what really draws my eye is the little girl on their right, in a bright blue dress. She looks as innocent as freshly fallen snow but her hands are already clutching a rifle. I wonder how old she is now.

“We’re glad to see that you managed the rain,” Tobias says.

He stands up to greet me and I try not to crush his fingers when we shake hands. I give him the polite smile Elora practiced with me and then move on to his wife.

Councilor Kiramman seems more reluctant to greet me. She gets up slowly and waits for me to come to her so we can shake hands. The smile gets harder to carry but I manage.

Once I’ve greeted both of them, Tobias gestures for me to sit down in an armchair. I’m facing them both on the couch, so it reminds me of an interrogation, only that the interrogators never wanted to fool you into thinking they were your friends.

“I’m Tobias and this–” he puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder “--is my wife Cassandra.”

“You will address us as Mr and Mrs Kiramman,” Cassandra adds so I don’t get any wrong ideas. “And you are?”

She raises an eyebrow and I wish I could disappear into the ground. I don’t know how her daughter manages that look, but I just pretend I’m back in the Undercity and she’s a gang leader trying to get under my skin. Although, thinking about it, I beat up the last person who was doing that. Huh.

I clear my throat and sit up straight. Elora didn’t tell me to use a fake name, so I just go ahead and speak without thinking much about it. “I’m Violet. Your new bodyguard.”

Tobias nods. “Councilor Medarda told us about your qualifications. Is it true that you’ve been to the Undercity multiple times to protect your clients? What was it like?”

Cassandra hits him with her knee. She quickly puts on a big smile. “You don’t have to answer that. We’re happy to have you. Would you like me to show you to your room?”

She gets up and starts walking away. I stay seated. “I don’t mind the question.”

I look at Tobias. “The Undercity is a dangerous place. Especially if you don’t know what you’re doing. But I’ve also found that it has some perspectives we could all learn from.”

“Really?” Tobias leans forward. He seems more intrigued than I thought anyone would be by this topic.

I start to speak again but Cassandra interrupts me. “This is hardly an appropriate conversation topic at the moment.” Her smile is thin. “Let me bring you to your room, Violet.”

We don’t make any conversation as we walk up the ginormous stairs. Cassandra walks in front. She looks back a few times, as if to make sure that I’m still there and all her stuff is too. I don’t blame her.

Eventually, we stop in front of a door like any other.

“Mathias has brought your suitcase up,” Cassandra says. Her voice sounds more gentle than before. She looks at me and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for my rude greeting, it’s just that the times have been turbulent and I really didn’t want to talk about the Undercity with everything that’s been going on.”

“It’s fine,” I reply. I didn’t expect her to apologise. She doesn’t seem like the type of person who often does.

Cassandra smiles. “In any case, I’d like to ask you a small favour once you’re done unpacking and the rain has calmed down.”

“Sure.” I wonder why she as my boss has to ask me a favour but I’ve learned from Elora that I shouldn’t question people with power, so I don’t. “What would you like me to do?”

“I know it’s not in your contract–” I didn’t even know there was a contract. I’ll have to ask Elora about that when we meet. “-- but I would be more than happy if you could make sure that our house is safe. With your experience, that should be an easy task.”

I nod. Sure. “So I'll just look around the outside?”

“Yes. I would like you to go around the house and check that there’s no easy way in for intruders of any kind. Of course we have a security system, but you never know what those people are capable of nowadays.”

I smile and shrug. Sounds easy enough.

With that, our conversation is over and she leaves me to my own devices. I turn towards my room and open the door.

The room is even prettier than the one in the apartment. I’ve got a two-person canopy bed all to myself with pillows that look like they’ve been spun out of fresh silk, a big wardrobe that I’m sure will make my clothes feel irrelevant, as well as a glass door next to my bed. I leave the suitcase on my bed in order to explore where the glass door leads.

When I open it, I’m met with the soothing sound of rain. It’s not as bad as before, but I think it might last a little longer. I step out and only then do I realise that this room has a balcony all for myself. It’s big enough to walk circles on, with part of the roof above it so that it won’t get wet. It even has a convenient chair for me to sit on if I didn’t have to work here.

The balcony looks out to the mansion’s massive garden. I didn’t even know anyone could own this much greenery. There’s enough space for all of Stillwater’s inmates to gather here and dance and then some. Some parts of the garden look like a dark forest, others consist of finely maintained lawns and small flower beds.

I spend probably too much time soaking in the view, so when I finally remember that I have a job to do, I decide not to unpack my suitcase today. I don’t want Cassandra to hate me on my first day.

The rain is light enough that I don’t need an umbrella. I walk downstairs and ask Mathias – It feels good to know he has a name and greet him with it, makes me feel less like a Piltie – if there’s another door instead of the front door. He quickly shows me to the back door for employees. It’s just off the kitchen, so I already know what the Kirammans are gonna have for dinner today. Doesn’t look all that appetizing but I guess I don’t have the authority to decide that.

“So there’s the front door, this door and a door to the garden for the family?” I ask. I can already tell this place is going to be a headache to keep safe. What kind of person needs this much space anyways?

Mathias nods. “There’s also a smaller gate to get to the garden from the street once you’ve passed the first big gate. That’s all.”

“Right.” I sigh. “Thank you.”

He hurries off and I open the small door.

To get a good view of the entirety of the mansion from the garden, I have to walk longer than I want to admit. My feet sink into the wet grass as I turn around and make a mental note of every window I could reach.

I don’t think Cassandra knew just how easy it would be for me to make sure intruders can’t get it. It’s as easy as trying to figure out how I would enter this beast of a house if I was the one intruding.

From what I’ve seen, if a simple thief knew what was inside the house, they’d be desperate as an airship on fire to get in there, so I also make a mental note of very hard to reach spots, like windows with no apparent way to get there unless you’re ready to die trying.

Some parts of the house are covered in ivy, though I’m sure it’s meant to be that way. I sigh. Ivy isn’t too strong, but if you really wanted to get in there, especially if all the obvious weak points were eliminated, the plant’s your best option.

As I look around, I spot a window on the top floor with light shining through the glass. I look closer. Suddenly, a dark figure moves abruptly away from the window, as if they know I spotted them. That’s not how someone innocent acts.

My instincts go wild. I can’t get in the house and get up soon enough to catch them. If it’s a thief, that’s not too bad, I might be able to catch them when they come down, but what if it’s not just a thief?

My mind races with scenes of what might happen next. I can’t fail like this. What if it’s an assassin and they were just waiting for me to get out so they could finally have a successful attempt? What if Cassandra and Tobias are laughing in the living room before their laughter stops all of a sudden and they’ll never laugh again?

I run towards the house. I might not be able to get in and up the stairs quickly enough, but there’s a thick string of ivy leading right to the window and I know I’m strong enough to make it.

So I climb. I’m glad it’s not poison ivy.

My hands are wet with dew and rain and I have to stop myself from slipping off a leaf and falling to my death. I push myself forward with my feet, planet securely against the building’s bricks in fancy shoes, and pull myself up with my arms, desperately clinging to the slippery green.

Just before I reach the window, I think I can’t make it. My arms hurt and I’m starting to lose grip on the ivy and the building. The rain’s gonna kill me. I want to laugh like a crazy person.

But then I see that the window is slightly open. I take a deep breath, pull myself up a little bit more, and then I act as if I were a girl again, running over roofs and doing parkour.

I swing myself to the window ledge. My fingers ache as I grip it harder than I thought I could. There’s no footing to find here, all that’s keeping me from falling are my wet fingers slowly sliding off the slanted bricks.

Somehow, I manage to pull myself up. I’m panting hard when I reach the window and throw it open with my elbow. With my last energy reserves, I push through the open window and roll onto the carpet.

Every part of my body aches but I know I can’t just lie here. I stand up, legs shaking, but when I see where I am, I freeze up.

“What are you doing here?” A soft voice asks from the back of the room. It doesn’t sound like anyone I know.

I slowly turn to see a big canopy bed with thick curtains. It almost disappears behind the columns holding up this gigantic room. The white furniture and flowers everywhere remind me of the little girl in the painting. I realise just how big a mistake I’ve made.

Words bubble out of me before I can stop them. I don’t even really know what I’m saying, nor what I want to say. “I– I’m sorry, I’ll just– I didn’t mean to– I mean– I don’t– I was–”
I shut my mouth.

From behind one of the bed’s curtains, the voice sounds again. “Are you the new bodyguard?”

I clear my throat. “I am.”

I’m screwed. I want to curse like I’ve never cursed before.

I’m thinking about what to say next when words become obsolete. The voice finally gains a face as a girl my age gets up from the bed and starts walking towards me. She stops and leans against one of the columns.

She looks just like her parents. Her dark hair flows down her shoulder as she tilts her head. I can’t help but notice how much she looks like her younger self. Her light blue eyes are big and she looks as soft as her voice, but there’s a hint of challenge in the way she stands there, as if waiting for me to make the next move. She’s taller than me, even more so with the heels she’s wearing.

I can tell she’s looking me up and down too. Her slim head doesn’t move, but her eyes do.

My cheeks heat up as I realise how I must look. Here I am, a stranger, in her bedroom, with clothes wet and slightly ripped from my climb, my hair a mess. I’ve never felt this embarrassed.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she says something else. “I’m Caitlyn. You don’t look much like a bodyguard.”

I only realize that I’m saying something when it’s already out of my mouth.
“Well, you look a lot like a Caitlyn.” I want to slap myself. Maybe I should sew my mouth shut so it can’t betray me like that again.

A smile ripples across her pale face. “Is that a compliment?” She smirks. I didn’t think a Piltie could look this mischievous. But the smirk is gone after a few seconds, as if she remembers who she is.

I don’t get to answer. Of course it is a compliment, but Caitlyn continues before I can say anything.
“What’s your name?” She turns around and starts walking back to her bed. Without thinking about it, I follow her.

“I’m Violet.”

She looks back at me and nods a few times. “Violet, that’s right. My parents told me you were coming today. I didn’t think I would meet you like this, though.”

I scoff. “I’d be concerned if you had expected this.” It’s easy to talk to her, in some way. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the climb and almost dying. And just maybe it’s because she hasn’t said anything about my remarks yet.

Caitlyn sits down on her bed and props herself up on her arms. I stand a few steps away, like an idiot.

“Why did you choose such an…interesting entrance?”

I want to sink into the ground again. It feels silly now, but I know that I’d much rather be in this situation than letting one of Piltover’s most influential families be killed.

“I thought there was an intruder,” I mumble. Caitlyn’s face scrunches up with confusion. She looks silly, but I don’t tell her that.

“What was that?”

I clear my throat again. “I thought there was an intruder at the window and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

She nods. In the short pause that follows, I wonder how she sleeps in such a massive room. I feel tiny and fragile just standing here. Then I wonder if she has nightmares and if anyone would hear her crying with the door so far away.

I shake my head to think about something else. Luckily I don’t have to try and distract myself for long because Caitlyn gets up and offers me her hand to shake.

“I’ll be sure to tell my mother how concerned with our wellbeing you are. And how eager you are to do your job.” She smiles.

I take her hand. It’s soft, but there are some callouses, perhaps from the rifle I see in a cupboard next to her bed.

As we shake hands, I try not to think about how sweaty my hand is, how hard compared to hers, how fragile her long fingers feel.

My head is still spinning with all that’s happened, the softness of her hands, her smirk, the way I came in here, when she brings me to the door and lets me out. I nod when she says “Goodbye for now”.

Even though I try to forget about the whole thing, my hands are sweaty when I tell Cassandra about the weak points of the back of the house and my breath hitches when I look at the front of the house and spot the windows leading to Caitlyn’s room.

I eat with Mathias that evening. We don’t talk. When I go up to my room, he tells me that the Kirammans are having a dinner party in a few days. I ask when I’ll need to get up tomorrow and he just replies that he’ll wake me and that Mrs Kiramman will tell me what I’ll need to do when I’m awake. All I’ll have to do is not mess up.

When I get into bed that night, in my underwear because I don’t trust any of the pyjamas Elora packed me, only one coherent thought forms beside the image of Caitlyn stepping out of the shadow of her bed.

I’m so screwed.

Chapter Text

Life in the Kiramman mansion is different from what I expected.

The morning after my arrival, I’m woken up by Mathias lightly knocking on my door. I stumble out of bed, eyes barely open, and greet him with a nod.
“You snore, did you know that?” He looks more relaxed than yesterday.

I cross my arms. “Maybe I only snore if you’re listening.”

“In any case, you’re going to have to get dressed and prepare the house.”

I frown. “What does that mean? Do I have to clean?”

He chuckles before returning to a serious face. “You’ll have to look around and make sure everything’s safe. But be sure to be quiet so you don’t wake the others.”

When he’s gone, I get dressed. I wear loose clothes today, a black top with grey pants that have a good amount of pockets like my uniform’s, as well as black boots. The clothes from yesterday are a mess, so I put them in the bathroom attached to my room. Out of sight, out of mind.

Once I’m done, I head downstairs and try to figure out what it would look like for me to make sure everything’s safe. Do they really think that someone would come in here during the night and, rather than kill them right then and there, plant some device in the living room?

I start by checking the doors and windows. All still locked, no one to be seen outside, so I move on to looking for any weird items that might not belong.
I find plenty of weird items, of course, ranging from an animal skull on display to a portrait of the Council where everyone looks like they need to go to the toilet, but I assume those are meant to be there. In the end, I just pretend to investigate bookshelves in the library – because of course they’ve got a library – to make sure no one’s installed a bomb overnight.

There’s enough time left for me to stretch once I’m done. Mathias soon comes to find me leaned against a column, surveying the empty living room.
“I’m done with the breakfast table, so you may let the others know. “

“Why can’t you do that?” I push off from the column and sigh. “Aren’t you the butler? I’m just here to make sure they’re not killed.”

He takes a deep breath. “Very well. I’ll wake up Mr and Mrs Kiramman, so all you’ll have to do is wake up their daughter, Caitlyn.”

“I’m familiar.” Memories roll around in my head like they’re trying to do backflips.

“Her room’s on the top floor on the left, right at the end. And when they’re awake and have eaten we can discuss your duties in this house.”

“Looking forward to it.” I walk to the stairs. Just as I’m ready to walk up, I look at the portrait.

I stay where I am as I start to wonder if little Caitlyn had to stay still for the entirety of the process. She’s looking off to the side, right to where I’m standing. Tobias is smiling while Cassandra looms over them. I wonder if she has to organise everything here. Her job on the Council can’t be easy, but at least it’s a job of high standing.
She’s the only one who looks really unhappy in the painting. Maybe the artist cost too much.

Mathias clears his throat. Clearly I’ve been standing here for too long. I hurry up the stairs to make up for lost time.

I’m not entirely sure how, but I know which door’s the right one as well as I know my own name. It couldn’t be clearer if Caitlyn’s name was written all over the expensive wood.

Her bedroom door is simpler than the other ones in here, a quiet reminder of its inhabitant rather than shouting it out for all the house to hear. I like it.
Standing in front of it feels weird, so I take a deep breath and knock.

“Breakfast’s ready,” I add, just to be sure.

Just as I start to walk away to help Mathias with whatever’s left, a faint voice rings out from behind the door.

“Come in,” it says. It’s Caitlyn’s soft voice, mixed with a slight roughness I attribute to waking up.

I freeze. How does her voice have that kind of effect on me? I don't even know her.

Three steps back and I’m in front of the door. I take another deep breath and push it open slightly.
“I’m coming in now.”

No reply, so I slowly make my way into the room. I make sure to not look towards the bed. Instead, I keep my eyes on the ground and look back to the door as I close it.

“Are you alright?” She sounds so tired.

I turn to face her but avoid looking at her. As I nod, I try to look like I’m admiring the curtains.

“Well, don’t worry. I’m dressed. I’d like to talk to you.”

I clear my throat. Just look at her. That’s it.

My eyes start to wander but I pull them back to her face. Caitlyn’s wearing a lacey nightgown, a purple so light it almost looks like pink. She’s smirking again, and this time it doesn’t leave her face immediately.

I can’t help but smile, though I try not to show how happy I am to see her. I hope my smile looks like the polite reply of a bodyguard to one of the people she’s supposed to protect, nothing more.

“What do you want to talk about?” I’m ready to talk about anything. Her family, her hobbies, her clothes. As long as I can hear her voice.

I want to slap myself for how attached I’m to someone I met less than a day ago. I thought Stillwater had managed to get some of that out of me. Apparently not.

Caitlyn sits up and folds her hands in her lap. She’s half under her blanket and it doesn’t look like she’s planning to stand up any time soon, so this won’t be a long conversation.

“I wanted to apologize for how I treated you yesterday.” She hesitates briefly. “I think I might not have been able to express that I really was happy to see how much you care about your job. If my words sounded like sarcasm, I deeply regret it and I wanted to let you know that I… I felt much safer tonight.”

My heart flutters. Luckily she didn’t inherit the underlying criticism of her mother.

“I– Thank you.” I consider a little bow but that seems too stiff. “That means a lot,” I say instead.

Caitlyn smiles.

I wish I could say more, but that doesn’t feel appropriate yet. Still, it really does mean a lot that she felt the need to apologise for something I didn’t even notice. I don’t think many other Pilties would have done the same. And a small part of me is flooded with joy as I realise that she’s clearly been thinking about yesterday as well, even if it might be through a different lens.

For a while, I just stand there and look around, catching her eye a few times.
Then I hear voices coming from the hallway and the reason I’m here in the first place catches up with me. Caitlyn seems to notice my panic.

“Oh.” She blushes. “I’ll get ready for breakfast now.”

I nod.

“Thank you for stopping by,” I hear her say as I’m on my way out. I’m too occupied with getting out of there as quickly as possible to reply. I don’t want to know what her parents would think if they saw me there.

Luckily all I have to do during breakfast is stand there and avoid eye contact with Cassandra. I’m sure she’d be able to read my mind and, right now, that’d be one of the worst things to happen.

The Kirammans make small talk while they eat. Even together as a family, they sound like they’re stuck at an official event. I can’t imagine not ever letting my guard down around those I love.

Eventually they’re all done and Tobias lets Caitlyn go to her room. I watch her leave and feel my heart race as she looks back once, even though it’s barely a second.

Cassandra clears her throat. My head snaps back to face her and I can feel my cheeks heating up.

“Caitlyn told me that you were doing a good job yesterday.” Fuck.

She gives me a hesitant smile. “I’m glad that she got that impression and that Mel seems to have recommended the right person, but remember why you’re here.”

Those words ring deep in my skull. Cassandra has no idea why I’m here but she managed to find my weak point just as easily as I found those of her mansion.

“I understand.”

“Caitlyn is very busy with her studies, so she doesn’t need any distractions,” Tobias adds.

“And we don’t want you getting distracted either, do we?” Cassandra nods.

“Of course not,” I reply.

I can’t believe I’m getting humiliated like this without being able to do anything about it. My face is heating up with anger and shame and I don’t even understand why; I don’t like these people. I don’t care about their opinions of me. I’m here to get info and pass it along until I’m finally free again.
I straighten my back and give a polite smile. Of course they’re right – I have a job to do and I can’t afford distractions. Caitlyn’s just a Piltie girl in a big house. There’s plenty more of her type. I sigh.

Once they’ve made sure that I’ve understood their point, the two inform me about the dinner party they’re planning to host in a few days.

“It’s a private party, so there will only be a few guests. Trusted friends, all of them, so your job should be easy.” Tobias smiles. “All you will have to do is make sure that the staff can be trusted too and then you can keep an eye on the events. Does that sound like something you can do?”

His voice sounds condescending and sincere at the same time. It makes me want to hit him but I don’t move a muscle. I’m gonna need to find a tree to punch when I’m done here, otherwise I won’t be able to hold myself back much longer.

“How many people will be there?” I ask, making sure to keep my voice calm.

Cassandra props her head up on one hand. “Not too many.” She looks at her husband before continuing. “Twenty, twenty-five.”

Together, they do a headcount. “There’s the council, so that’s six” Tobias says, “And of course we can’t forget Jayce and his curious assistant, and–”

I stop listening. Twenty people plus loved ones plus staff to organise the event is more than I can manage on my own, that much I know, and if they really expect me to handle all that then I can’t promise I won’t let in a random person with a bomb strapped to their chest. Maybe I’ll give them the bomb myself.

When I complain about the party to Mathias later, he just asks me what exactly I was expecting.

“I mean,” he says, “no one comes into a household like this and expects there won’t be any work. You didn’t really think all you’d have to do is stand around and look useful, right? I’d be out of here as soon as they told me I didn’t have to do anything anymore.”

I cross my arms. We’re in the kitchen, currently not in use by anyone except for us scarfing down three bowls of weird, tasteless porridge that Mathias made while we were waiting for the Kirammans to be done with breakfast.

“But wouldn’t that be the perfect job? Get all the money without any of the work?”

Mathias shrugs. “I don’t think so. I’m here because it pays well, true, but also because I’ve always wanted to be a part of the behind-the-scenes of something like this.” He puts his spoon in the now-empty bowl in front of him. “Why are you here? Just for the money?”

A full spoon of goo saves me from having to answer right away. I’m a bad liar and Mathias looks like he’s the type to be able to read people.

“Yeah,” I say eventually. I don’t give him time to reply, just walk off.

The next few days aren’t too different. I try to avoid Caitlyn so her parents don’t skin me, Cassandra is busy with preparing the party and Tobias pretends he’s working on it too.

Sometimes Cassandra asks me to read over the guests’ files so I’ll be prepared, though part of me wonders if it’s just because she feels safer when I’m sitting next to her.

No one except for Mathias is allowed to leave the house. He tells me what’s going on outside, even if I don’t want to know much Piltover.

The day of the party rolls around and with it comes more stress than I expected this house could hold. People run up and down the stairs to clean and decorate while the Kirammans try on outfit after outfit to find the perfect one, each increasingly expensive.

Cassandra comes out of her room exactly once to check if the food is ready and when she spots me she immediately tells me to change. I think I look too comfortable. Maybe she’s jealous.

As I get changed into something that will make it more difficult to do my job should anything actually happen, I consider what I’ll actually have to do tonight. I’m supposed to check the guests at the front door, make sure they’re on the list and search them for anything that could be even remotely dangerous, then I can move on to standing in the corner to make sure none of the guests sneak off and the Kirammans can enjoy their evening. Easy.

Mathias gives me the list and tells me where to stand, how to act and, most importantly, who not to search – even the suggestion that one of their closest friends might be dangerous comes close to treason for the Kirammans. Luckily that takes a load off my shoulders so I can focus on the people I do need to check.

I have to stand out in front of the mansion a while, listening to the mess being made inside the house. For a second, I look up to the right and find the windows to Caitlyn’s room illuminated. I imagine her standing up there in a pretty dress, watching the street to see if anyone’s coming just like I’m doing. Then I force myself to look away from the window and find something else to look at distract myself from the warmth building in my chest.
I’m more than happy to see the first guest arrive because it means I finally have something to do.

Though I’m not sure what I expected a Kiramman house guest to look like, the two that walk up first certainly don’t look like they fit in.

The broader one looks more like it, with gel in his hair and a gold and white suit. He’s relaxed while the thin man next to him avoids eye contact with me. I feel like I’ve seen the former before but his name – Jayce Talis – doesn’t ring a bell. He’s on the no-check list though, so I let him through with a smile.

When his partner starts to follow him, I have to step in.

“Sorry sir, but I’m gonna have to check you. Please stay there.”

A shiver runs down my spine at just how much I sound like an enforcer. I try not to let it show.

Talis’ partner, Viktor with no last name, turns out to be harmless. I feel like he doesn’t want to be here either, so I give him a nod as he walks in and let him keep his cane. I hope he smacks someone with it.

Talis is already waiting for his partner in the entrance hall so I don’t even have to tell him where to go.

The next few guests are senators I saw on the files Elora showed me in Stillwater. I greet them, check them and let them in all without dropping my smile. Even Salo, whining about his lunch to the tired woman forced to be his plus-one, gets a smile, though it’s smaller than the others.

I feel like a bouncer at The Last Drop. These people act all high and mighty, thinking they’re above me, but we all know who’ll be the one to throw them out should they cause trouble later, so most of them treat me with some sort of respect even when I tell them that I’ll have to check their pockets. I never considered bouncer as a a job but maybe when this is all over I can try my hand at it.

A bit later, just before the party’s supposed to start, I’m surprised to see Mel and Elora walking towards me until I remember that Mel’s on the council. Guess I didn’t look through the guest list closely enough. Maybe I was distracted by something else.

They don’t talk to me. Mel smiles as she enters without being checked, Elora barely looks at me. From an outsider’s perspective, they look like any other guests and even though I “worked for them” as a bodyguard I’m not supposed to know them or be comfortable enough to have a conversation out here.
I’m glad Elora doesn’t talk to me. If she did, I’m not sure I could lie well enough to fool her, and I really don’t want her to know that I haven’t been able to spy on the Kirammans at all.

When the guests have finally arrived, I close the main door and put away the guest list in the kitchen. It’s busy there, so I try not to get too close to any of the cooks Cassandra hired for today and only sneak a tiny bit of food on my way out.

The hosts and guests are all gathered in the living room. I stand in a corner close to the stairs so I can stop anyone who might feel the urge to wander up and scan the room, though I’m not sure what I’m looking for until I realise that Caitlyn’s not there.

I know she was preparing for the party this morning. Cassandra’s advice about jewelry and clothing could be heard throughout the house. So why isn’t she with her parents or talking to one of the guests?

As I look around some more, I see that Cassandra seems to have noticed her daughter’s absence as well. She looks around and smiles, trying to be polite even though she shuts down any attempts at conversation, and when she spots me she starts walking over with steps so determined I’m afraid she’ll break the flooring.

“Violet,” she says, her voice as tense as a strung crossbow, “Do you have any idea where my daughter is?”

I try my best to look and sound as innocent as possible. “No ma’am.” I consider the lights that were still on behind her windows when I went inside. “She might be in her room.”

Cassandra takes a deep breath. “Very well. While I bring the guests to dinner, could you please take care of her and convince her to come down?”

“Of course.”

Some of the guests are watching us but when Cassandra turns to them, she does so with a big smile. She starts walking around and gathering everyone to go to the dining room with an ease that can only be learned through experience. I’m glad I don’t have to hold these types of gatherings. It seems far too stressful. So many rules, even though it’s in her own house, and the slightest misstep could lead to difficulties in her career if the other councilors take offense.

I don’t say any of that to her, of course, and instead just turn around and walk up the stairs.

After a few seconds, I reach Caitlyn’s door. I hesitate, my hand on the handle, as I wonder what might be the reason for her absence. If it’s something personal I doubt she’ll be happy to see me.

There’s nothing else I can do other than enter to find out, though, so I take a deep breath and push the door open.
The room looks empty with the darkness streaming in from outside. I’m still amazed at the columns, but I still don’t want to live here, not all alone. A space like this should be filled with happiness and laughter, music and bright lights, not sit there lonely in the encroaching night.

“Why are you here?”

I turn to see Caitlyn at one of the windows looking out at the garden. There’s nothing to see at this hour but she pretends to watch something.

“Your mother wants you to come downstairs.”

She faces me and for a moment I can’t breathe. Her dress is a dark blue waterfall cascading down her body, her hair is up in a braided bun, jewelry adorns her neck and wrists and in the dim light, she looks like a goddess.

“You look beautiful,” I say without thinking.

Caitlyn smiles. It’s a sad smile, though I think my honesty helped her feel better. Even as I think about it, I don't regret speaking up. She should know how gorgeous she looks.

After a brief pause, she gestures for me to join her and we sit down on her bed together. I notice that she can’t walk properly with the tight skirt of the dress, so I slow down and let her lead until we’re there.

“Of course my mother would send someone up.” Caitlyn sighs. She looks at me, the sad smile still on her pretty face, then looks to the door. “It’s not your fault, you can’t know about it, but it’s always like this.”

I look at her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs and the motion makes one of the straps of her dress slip off her shoulder. For a second I consider putting it back up but then Caitlyn’s already done it and moved on. I hope she can’t see me blushing in the dim light.

“They always throw these parties with the other councilors and wealthy and important people from all around Piltover.” She takes a deep breath. “I think they want to introduce me to them and make me see just how amazing it is to have a career in the Council or in another important field like the Academy but, to be honest, I don’t care for all that. Of course it’s important but it’s not what I want to do.”

I want to ask her what it is that she wants to do, but the image of Cassandra waiting impatiently downstairs comes to mind so I instead direct the conversation towards the right topic.

“Have you talked to your parents about that? Maybe they could change the guest list.”

Caitlyn chuckles dryly. “Sure. Well, actually, they did one time and invited the Sheriff and that evening I only talked to her and ignored all the other guests, so they never did anything like it again. They don’t like other people to see their daughter being disinterested in Council affairs.”

The part of me that wants to make Cassandra trust me urges me to tell her it’s not that important and that it won’t hurt her to sit down and have dinner with the people downstairs. But the part of me that’s far more important, the part that wants Caitlyn to be happy and trust me, tells me she needs a life outside of this house.

And it’s not like I don’t understand her. I would rather drink poison than clink my fancy glass against the others’ while we ignore the Undercity and salute Piltover.

I clear my throat. “Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?”

Caitlyn scoffs and looks at me. She looks confused but intrigued. “Why?”

Mentally, I take a deep breath. “Your mother’ll be furious if you don’t go downstairs and there’s nothing we can do about that, but we can sweeten the time with plans for tomorrow. Only if you want to, of course.” My face is hot enough to fry an egg.

For a few seconds, we just stare at each other. I consider all the choices that brought me here while I feel my head getting more and more empty the longer I look into Caitlyn’s light blue eyes. They match her dress perfectly.

“I’d love to,” she says after a while. Her words are calm and careful. “I have tutoring in the morning but I’d love to go to the city with you. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind, and if they do I’ll convince them with my grades.” A smile grows on her face. “Have you ever been to the city?”

I decide to tell a half-truth and go with “I’ve never seen it up close.”

“Then I’d love to show you.”
All of a sudden, Caitlyn’s filled with energy. She smiles and stands up, offering me her hand before I get up on my own.

Together we walk out the door and I bring her to her mother. Caitlyn manages to keep a polite smile up that evening, even when Salo bothers her for a good half hour and she has to sacrifice Mel, offering her up as a new conversation partner to get out of the conversation.

She spends most of the evening with Talis. I make sure that Viktor doesn’t sneak off – he looks like he wants to be anywhere else and, quite frankly, I’d show him the library if Cassandra wasn’t watching my every move.

It’s a nicer evening than expected. Caitlyn smiles at me when I say goodnight. I smile back like a drunk idiot.

As I get ready for bed and eventually slip under the covers, my brain replays her at the window, her smiling at me, her in her beautiful dress as we walk to the bed. I fall asleep with a smile on my face at the thought of her showing me the city.

Chapter Text

When I wake up, my first thought is “I have to look good”.

I’ve never cared much about fashion, not when it’s something only Pilties can afford, and Stillwater didn’t exactly encourage individuality. But it feels like Caitlyn might care about that sort of stuff, so I pick out some nice, clean clothes.

It’s a day like any other. I look around the house, make sure the windows and doors are locked, then Mathias eventually tells me that breakfast is ready and I go to wake up the others so that he can finish the last touches. This time I don’t go into Caitlyn’s room, just hope she’ll come down eventually.

Cassandra is first in the dining room. She doesn’t sit down immediately, instead she walks up to me and offers a polite smile like the many she had to put on yesterday.

“Thank you for helping Caitlyn come down yesterday. I don’t believe I’ve told you how helpful that was.”

I smile and nod but it’s clear there’s more to this. Her lips get thinner as she pushes out more tense words.

“I couldn’t help but notice that it took some time until she was ready to come down and greet the guests. What were you talking about?”

It’s easy to tell that she’s trying to put on a nice mom facade. Her hands are folded in front of her legs, her smile is almost real and even her eyes are warm and welcoming but the way she’s speaking ruins the illusion. It sounds like she’s stepped on glass that I put there and she’s trying not to shout at me.

“It took a few minutes until she agreed,” I reply after briefly hesitating. “Caitlyn wasn’t feeling good. Has she talked to you about why she didn’t want to come downstairs?”

Cassandra pulls her lips into a thin line. “She has not.”

With that, the conversation’s over and Cassandra walks to the breakfast table without looking at me again. I think I hit a nerve.

Tobias comes to the table soon after, as if he was waiting for us to finish the conversation. He sits down next to his wife and it looks like he’s trying to soothe her, his hand on hers as he quietly talks to her.

My head turns as soon as I hear the light creaking of the stairs a third time. Caitlyn looks just as pretty as she did yesterday. Her hair is down, still a little messy, and she’s wearing a nice blouse with pants that I doubt have any pockets. I’m not surprised that she manages to look elegant after just waking up.

When she enters the room and sits down, I want to think that the room lights up, but the opposite is the case. Cassandra looks at her like she’s going to stuff her in her room for the rest of her life. The atmosphere almost feels like my cell in Stillwater, the only thing that manages to lighten it even remotely the cupcake on Caitlyn’s plate. Interesting breakfast.

Still, I would prefer the solitary peace and quiet to the discussion that ensues as soon as Caitlyn opens her mouth.

“You can’t keep clinging to Jayce, Caitlyn.” Cassandra spears a tiny fruit with an equally tiny fork and brings it up to her mouth. “These events are networking opportunities and you know what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“I know,” Caitlyn mumbles. She keeps her eyes on the table. Then she says something else, but it’s unintelligible because her words are quiet enough to blend into the background.

“What was that?” Tobias asks.

Caitlyn swallows her first bite. “I thought the dinner was meant to celebrate Hextech’s advancements for next Progress Day. It’s only a few weeks away.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if Cassandra started foaming at the mouth.

“Even so,” she says through clenched teeth, “the other guests barely got the opportunity to congratulate Jayce because you were constantly buzzing around him. You need to understand that events like yesterday’s aren’t casual meetings with friends.”

“I do, mother.”

The rest of breakfast passes in a strained silence. I didn’t know eating with fancy cutlery could be this aggressive. Cassandra and Caitlyn both impale their food as if they’re imagining it’s each other while Tobias’ chewing looks a little too tense.

When they’re done and Mathias starts clearing away their plates, Caitlyn speaks up.

“I know what I did yesterday was egotistical.” She takes a deep breath. “Maybe I could visit some of the guests and apologise?”

Tobias frowns in confusion. “What do you mean? They’re all busy people, they don’t have the time to listen to you apologise for something like that. You need to learn from yesterday, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“But father, what if I bring them small gifts so they’ll remember the party for longer?” I can see a scheme forming on her face even though she tries to cover it up with big innocent eyes.

Cassandra clears her throat. “It’s true that they might forget about the event soon if we don’t remind them.” She sighs. “And to think that they’ll have forgotten our hospitality at next week’s Council meeting is rather upsetting.”

Caitlyn looks at me during the brief pause Cassandra leaves after that sentence. She gives me a small smile, as if convinced that she’s already convinced them. I can’t help but grin back as I wonder how often she’s manipulated her parents like this in small, harmless ways. She’d make a great politician if she wanted to be one.

“Very well,” Cassandra continues. “Do you have an idea for the gifts?”

Caitlyn quickly drops her smile and manages to reply in a tone both serious and innocent. “I thought about going to the city, maybe getting some sweets – You said they all liked the sweet and sour mixed gift bags I prepared last year.”

“The city?” Tobias crosses his arms. “Today?”

I try not to sigh. He doesn’t seem like going to the city’s something he’ll allow, so maybe Caitlyn doesn’t actually have all that much experience with convincing her parents.

“Oh…well…it would only be a short trip. I could go once the tutors have left and then I’d be back before dinner.”

Cassandra starts nodding. When she speaks up, though, it quickly becomes clear that she agrees with her husband, not her daughter. “You know what happened last week. This is no time to go out for anyone, especially not you.”

Caitlyn opens her mouth slightly but she doesn’t get to say anything as Tobias joins his wife.

“And you have more than enough work to do, young lady, so there’s no time for distractions” – Cassandra looks at me as he says that – “even if going outside wasn’t dangerous at the moment.”

Something changes in Caitlyn’s face. She switches from innocent to something else, something that might convince her parents more easily.

“I know, I just thought…” she sniffles “...I just wanted to apologise for what I did yesterday and I…I thought I could help with something.” A single tear rolls down her cheek. Her parents react immediately.

“Darling, that’s not what we meant,” Tobias says.

“We just want to keep you safe,” Cassandra adds, “and we want you to learn so that you can become anything you want to be.”

Caitlyn is slowly becoming a blubbering mess. Her lips tremble, small tears pour out of her eyes like raindrops down a window and even her voice is tense and stricken with sadness. “I just feel so alone and I wanted to talk to Jayce because he’s the only friend I have and..”

She starts rambling about not having any friends her age and the city being the perfect place to find them, about her good grades and how much she’s done for her studies already, and about wanting to help and apologise for her behaviour at the dinner party. Surprisingly, her sudden onset of emotions seems to work.

“We can reschedule your tutors for today, okay darling?” Cassandra’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “And if you’re careful, you can go to the city…Violet, would you please accompany Caitlyn to the city after breakfast?” She turns around to face me.

I can’t believe it. Caitlyn actually managed to convince them.

Trying to keep the excitement off my face and not reveal the butterflies in my stomach, I give Cassandra a curt nod and look away. Already images of Caitlyn showing me around her hometown start filling up my mind and I can’t wait for them to become a reality.

I eat breakfast and do another check around the house to make sure everything’s safe enough for me to leave without the Kirammans getting blown up in my absence and while I look around the rooms, I can’t stop thinking about Caitlyn. Why would she offer to show me the city? Is it just so she can finally get out of this house or does she have ulterior motives? It’s a silly thought, of course. I attribute my nervousness to the fact that I’ll have to take care of Caitlyn and protect her so I don’t lose my job or my life.

When the time comes, I’m barely present. Sure, I’m waiting at the foot of the stairs and looking around for my guide but I’m already thinking about what might happen next. Only when a hand lands on my shoulder am I pulled out of my head and I realise that I should’ve been paying more attention.

“Are you ready?” Caitlyn pulls her hand away as soon as I look at her. I might be imagining it, but there’s the faintest blush on her cheeks as she smiles at me.

She looks more put together than this morning; I liked her better at breakfast. Her hair up, clothes all neat and makeup on her face make her look a little too formal.

I don’t say any of that to her and just nod. For some reason I don’t want to spoil today with the same rash phrases that felt so natural when I met her.

Caitlyn says goodbye to her parents who bring us to the door. I can feel Cassandra’s eyes bore into my back as we walk away past the open gate.

We start talking more freely after a few minutes of walking. Caitlyn points out the architecture of a particularly grand building, then looks at me with big eyes. “And you’ve really never been here?”

“I’ve only seen a small part of the city and that was a long time ago.” It feels like forever.

Caitlyn hesitates. “Then…where do you live?”

I look at her. She’s figured it out on her own, that much’s easy to tell. Her cheeks are red like she’s asked an inappropriate question. Maybe this question was the real reason she wanted to show me Piltover, so she’d have an opportunity to ask it that felt natural.

The part of me that knows I need to blend into the background in order not to attract any attention tells me I should lie to her, tell her I come from the outer rings of Piltover, a small and humble life to satisfy her curiosity.

“I’m from the Undercity.” The words leave my mouth feeling dry.

My heritage is obvious the moment you look at me but to say it out loud, especially to someone who’s not supposed to know anything about me, feels dangerous. My heart is beating faster than it was when I was running across the rooftops above us years ago. I look at Caitlyn, though I don’t know how I want her to react.

She stops walking. I have to turn around to look at her and, when I do, I see her face torn between two emotions. There’s a war inside her that I only know won when she smiles, perhaps the most earnest smile I’ve ever seen on her.

“How is it?” she asks when she catches up to me. We continue walking like nothing happened, only my fast heartbeat remains as evidence.

“What? Living there?”

Caitlyn nods.

“It’s a mess, of course.” I chuckle at the thought of Mylo and Claggor running through the Lanes with their middle fingers up after Vander told them they had more chores to do. “Never a boring moment. But if you’re not fast enough, the Undercity will eat you alive. You have difficult choices to make every day and if you choose wrong just once, that’s it.”

My eyes start to sting. It’s so easy to make the wrong choice. And look where that gets you. Next to a Piltie girl, telling her your life story, trying to figure out what to do as your life depends on a job.

“You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to.” Caitlyn puts her soft hand on my shoulder again for a moment. “It must be difficult, being away from your family.”

I almost break down right there and then. Instead, I force a dumb smile on my face and chuckle as I say “You don’t know the half of it, cupcake.”

She looks at me and her expression, half in disbelief, half offended, makes me laugh. Suddenly my thoughts are back here, in this moment, and I can enjoy her stuttering as she tries to reply. Her face is pink with anger. She looks like a strawberry cupcake. I don’t think I should tell her that.

“What did you call me?” she finally lands on. I laugh louder, which turns her face from sour to a smile, even though she tries to force it down.

“You know, because of your breakfast today.”

Caitlyn crosses her arms and walks faster. I have to jog a little to keep up with her.

“I will eat what I want for breakfast, thank you very much.” She puts her nose up but her anger is a facade already starting to crumble. After a few seconds, she’s smiling at me.

Her tone is barely serious anymore when she tells me never to call her that again.

Around us, the buildings get taller and more glamorous. At least I think they do. I can’t keep my eyes off Caitlyn as she tells me stories and jokes about this city. The word “Piltover” rolls off her tongue like a drop of water.

Soon enough we reach a large square and Caitlyn forces me to look at the enormous wall of stone in front of us. It looks like someone tried to carve a palace out of a mountain and, oddly enough, did a pretty good job.

“This is the Academy,” Caitlyn explains. She gestures to the square around us and I realise that it’s full of students around our age, cramming in one last chapter before heading to an exam, laughing with friends that wear the same uniform, and some even sleeping on the benches, a book over their face to ward off the sun.

I take it all in and decide that Piltover has at least two nice parts. One of them standing next to me, the other in front of me. “It’s beautiful.”
Caitlyn nods. We sit down on a bench together and watch the people streaming in and out of the Academy, all lost in their own world.

“Are you going to study here?” I look at her. Her parents seem to care a lot about her grades and studies, so a big fancy university makes sense as her goal.

She hesitates but answers after a few seconds. Her eyes trace the path of a group of students as she does. “It’s not what I want. It’s an amazing institution, but I’m not interested in what they teach, or, rather, I’m less interested in going here than I am in pursuing a different career.”

It’s my turn to nod. I’m not sure I would feel comfortable here, what with so many people and wealth dripping from every wall. The Academy was made to fit into Piltover, and I wasn’t made to fit into either.

“Then what do you want to do later?” I ask.

Caitlyn smiles but before she can answer, she lights up even more as she locks eyes with someone behind me.

“Over here,” she calls out, waving her arms in the air.

I turn around to see who’s coming over. It’s Jayce and Viktor, from the dinner party. They look more at ease here than in the Kirammans’ mansion. I can’t blame them.

They've almost reached us when the ground starts to shake. Caitlyn frowns in confusion and I look around to figure out what’s going on.
Caitlyn starts saying something but her words are pulverised by a loud bang as the world shakes and fire takes over the edge of my vision.
We jump up from our seat. Everything seems to happen in slow motion.

Jayce reaches out for us. A building erupts in flames as another explosion shakes the ground and I pull Caitlyn out of the way of debris coming down. Glass shatters onto the Academy square as people start to scream.

The final explosion starts with a loud ticking, like a clock telling you your time is over. I see a flashing blue light coming from the underside of the bench we were sitting on and, without a single thought in my mind, pull Caitlyn away, but I’m not fast enough.

I scream "Bomb" and, somehow, my body knows what to do before I’ve even fully realised what’s going on. I take Caitlyn in my arms and shield her, my back to the explosion. Before the pain makes me shut my eyes, I see something sweet in her face. Her mouth forms a word I’m unable to hear over the blast.

For a second, I feel everything. Flames at my skin, Caitlyn’s shouting that tickles my ear, a tear down my cheek, a terrible push from behind as the shockwave reaches us.

Then I feel nothing.

Chapter Text

I know I’m not dead. If I was, I wouldn’t have to suffer the sting of disinfectant in my nose, the scratchy fabric of the hospital gown I’m in, nor the bright lights burning through my eyelids.

Memories of what happened pop up as I wonder if I should open my eyes. There’s the explosion, of course, and Caitlyn in my arms, and then we fall and Caitlyn’s shouting something at me.

Someone carried me off the Academy square. And now I’m here.

Every inch of my body is hurting. I try to move a finger and manage to curl it up, but not without an intense pain surging up to my brain. It’s the same feeling that strikes you after a hard day of training, only much worse and without a reward as good as power and muscles.

My back is the worst of all. It feels like it’s on fire for a few seconds and then it’s cold again, like I’m experiencing the explosion over and over. Luckily they put me on my side to sleep. I’ve never been more grateful for smart people.

Someone shuffles out of the room – or into it, since all I can hear are shoes on a hard floor. Maybe it’s Caitlyn. That thought makes me want to jump up and check immediately. I need to know that she’s okay. She needs to be safe. I can’t bear the thought that I couldn’t protect her.

My thoughts start to race, replaying the explosion, trying to figure out if I did enough to save Caitlyn. I don’t even realise that someone else has entered the room until a conversation between two familiar voices starts.
“I can’t believe something like this happened,” a woman I quickly know to be Cassandra says. It sounds like she sits down somewhere close to my bed.

“It doesn’t seem real,” Tobias agrees. He’s further away, probably closer to the door.

Cassandra sighs. “How is Caitlyn doing?”

I hold my breath. She needs to be fine.

“Obviously she doesn’t like all the questions.” Tobias takes a few steps towards Cassandra. “She’s barely cooperating because they won’t let her in here.”

My heart burns as brightly as the explosion. It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt. I have to focus on my breathing so the two don’t realise I’m awake.

“I don’t even want to think about what might have happened without her.” Cassandra takes a deep breath. I assume she’s speaking about me; I didn’t expect her to praise me, even though it’s more of a subtle compliment and she doesn’t know I can hear it.

“You know we need more guards,” Tobias replies. “With these new developments, Violet won’t suffice, especially if she’s stuck here.”

“You’re right. I didn’t want to believe it at first – I mean we all know what Salo is like with his stories, and I was wondering if we should have sent that gift basket, even if the chocolates were expired. All of it seems so much worse now.” Another sigh from Cassandra and she continues. “I won’t bother Mel this time, so we’ll have to decide on a different company.”

For a moment, no one talks. Then Tobias speaks up, though his voice is quieter and more reserved than before.
“Do you think we should keep her? It might be easier to–”

“Tobias!” Cassandra scoffs. “She risked her life to save our daughter. Don’t you dare even consider replacing her.”

Her words feel strangely supportive, even though I don’t care what a woman like Cassandra thinks about me. She could hate me for all I care. Still, I’m glad that she seems intent on keeping me around, at least for now.
The conversation dies out after that and soon, their soles scrape across the floor and the door opens to let them out. I take the opportunity to look around my room once I’m sure they’re gone.

It’s a hospital room, of course, so it doesn’t look like much. Despite that, it has things I didn’t think a hospital needed, like golden accents in their walls and heavy white curtains made out of a fabric that feels expensive just from looking at it.

I right myself up, despite the aching and the fire burning down my back, and look around some more. My jaw almost drops when I see a table with more flowers than I can count in the corner of the room. Their colours remind me of the graffiti in the Undercity, only that these are just tiny specks of colour to brighten up the dull white of the walls.

They’re in vases or bound in fabric or paper, some a singular flower and others bouquets more exquisite than any I’ve ever seen. Some of them have tiny strips of paper attached to them with a string, with words I can’t read from the bed.

I feel my heart grow tenfold as I wonder who would have sent these gifts to someone like me. I don’t know anyone well enough to warrant such gifts – everyone I really know is dead or thinks I’m still in prison.

I can’t support looking around much longer, so I sink back into the bed and fall into a light sleep. My dreams show me everything that’s happened, all the strange events that brought me here, lying in a Piltie hospital.

I’m not sure how much time has passed when I finally wake up. The city outside shines bright against a dark sky. I blink a few times, trying to orient myself and focus on something other than the burning pain ravaging my back, and as I look around I see something much sweeter than my dreams.

In a chair in the corner that looks almost as uncomfortable as my bed sits a girl my age, her head leaning against the wall as she drifts off into sleep. Her mouth is slightly open and a light snoring is the only sound in the room.

I can’t help but smile. Caitlyn looks healthy. She’s wearing the same clothes, some a little charred, and her hair is a mess but she’s still more beautiful than the flowers.

As I try to sit up, the bed creaks. That’s all that it takes to pull Caitlyn out of her dreams. Her eyes grow as big as the moon when she looks at me.

This time I can’t deny the butterflies in my stomach. They almost make me forget the way my skin is screaming.
I look at her and immediately know that it was all worth it. I would suffer a million explosions if it only meant that Caitlyn was fine.

Her voice is barely more than a whisper but I hear it as well as if she shouted. “You’re awake.”

I smile so much that my face hurts. “You’re okay,” I reply.

Before I know what to do next, Caitlyn jumps out of her chair and runs toward me. She embraces me hard, as if she wasn’t sure I would ever wake up. I don’t care how much it hurts. Her arms wrapped around me is one of the best feelings in the world. In that moment, I can forget everything bad and focus on the present, a present more beautiful than I would have thought possible for myself.

“You’re okay too,” Caitlyn whispers, her head on my shoulder. She moves back and puts her hands around my head, cradling my chin, turning it slowly from side to side before simply staring at me. “Fuck, Violet, you’re okay.” Tears roll down her face. These aren’t the manipulative tears she used to convince her parents. They’re more real than anything else in this room.

“Don’t worry, cupcake, I’m a tough one. It’ll take more than that to take me down.” My voice is light and the jokes leave my mouth with ease but I know that deep down, I’m more shaken than I want anyone to know. I have no idea how I survived.

Caitlyn laughs and sniffles. She wipes her nose with a handkerchief – it reminds me of how different we are, even united by such a disaster. Of course she wouldn’t wipe her nose on her sleeve, she’s too refined for that. But I can look past our differences with the way she smiles at me like I’m the best news she’s ever heard.

“How long have I been here?” I ask. I can’t imagine that it’s the same day as the attack, not with the burns on my back and Caitlyn’s despair to see me wake up. It’s a scary question but it needs to be asked.

Caitlyn sits down on the bed. I lie down on my side again, leaving more than enough space for her to sit near my feet. She takes a deep breath before answering. There’s a small smile plastered onto her lips that won’t seem to come off as she talks.

“They had to do surgery to get the shrapnel out first. Then they put you in a medical coma for a few days.”
My stomach sinks. I had hoped that I came in yesterday, not that long ago.

“You were brought in two weeks ago.” Her voice breaks and she pauses. “It wasn’t…We didn’t know if you would be fine.”

I could have died. My lungs start to feel empty. I feel my heart ache with something that’s not physical. Only Caitlyn’s hand on my leg reminds me that I survived.

“Well.” I try to laugh but not even a single sound comes out of my mouth. “That’s…not great.”

Silence spreads out in the room. Caitlyn’s watching me closely as I try to pretend that nothing happened.
Then, all of a sudden, my back starts to hurt, much worse than before. I gasp as an intense stinging prickles over every inch of my skin, made even worse by the light hospital gown they put me in. Tears blur my vision and I have to shut my eyes to remotely manage the pain, as well as not have to look at the horrified expression on Caitlyn’s face.

“What’s going on?” Caitlyn’s voice sounds far away. I can’t answer. All I can do is focus on breathing normally.
Every nerve in my body is on fire. Time becomes a slow loop of dull and bright aching. I’m alone in the darkness with only the pain to keep me company.

While I lie there, trying not to cry and failing miserably, unable to move at all, something tugs at the back of my medical gown. I try to ignore it at first, which is easy with the pain to focus on instead, but then Caitlyn’s voice sounds again, a calm beacon of hope.

“I’m going to open the back of your gown so I can apply some cold water. Hold still please.” She sounds so polite. I want to laugh. But there’s a fierceness to her voice too, like I couldn’t say no if I tried, like she’s hellbent on helping me whether I want it or not.

My back is screaming at me to do something and tears run down my face when, without warning, a wet towel is pressed against the burn. It can’t cover everything at once, of course, but it’s immediately soothing.

More tears come but these are tears of relief. Caitlyn whispers calm things as she applies more cold fabric and the burning stops.

“This won’t help in the long term,” she says, “but it’s good enough for now. You’ll get medicine to help you later on.”

She works diligently, making sure that the towels are changed and cover everything. It feels like heaven, contrasted against the pain from hell.

Soon enough my tongue slips. Things feel too good, too easy.

“Honestly, Cait, if I could turn around, I’d kiss you.”

Caitlyn’s hands stop moving. In fact, it feels like all of time stops moving for a few seconds.

A small eternity of this moment, allowing me to wonder if I maybe shouldn’t have said anything and if I can convince her that I didn’t really mean it. I would have to start with convincing myself. Maybe I can say I’m delirious from the pain, which wouldn’t be too far off the truth, or maybe Caitlyn will interpret it as a simple joke between two friends. Are we friends?

I’m more than glad when the door is swung open and the moment crashes into tiny pieces. Behind me, Caitlyn hurries to cover my back. I want to tell her that I don’t care if anyone sees my skin, I need the damn towels. But I don’t dare open my mouth again.

“I won’t look, don’t worry Cait,” a man says. The floor creaks as he sits down in the chair previously occupied by Caitlyn.

“Oh, it’s you,” Caitlyn says. She sounds relieved.

I start to sit up so I can see who it is but Caitlyn puts a soft hand against my shoulder. It starts to heat up, a very different warmth from the burning wound.

“It’s Jayce,” she explains. Her voice carries no trace of what happened.

Jayce clears his throat. “Thank you for what you did…”

“Vi,” I say. I don’t have the energy to pretend I’m Violet anymore. Violet was a scared little girl and a more appropriate name to give to the Kirammans. None of that matters now.

“Thank you, Vi. What you did was incredibly brave.”

Caitlyn starts walking around the bed and sits down at my feet, facing Jayce. I don’t need to ask myself why she won’t look at me.

“How’s Viktor?” she asks.

“Oh, you know what he’s like. Won’t stop working. I told him that we need to get him checked out, with all that smoke in the air, but he just keeps coughing and telling me I shouldn’t worry about him.” I hear a smile in his voice as he says, “Reminds me of you, Cait.”

Caitlyn scoffs. “I’m not that stubborn, thank you very much.”

They talk some more amongst themselves. I almost wish they would leave the room so I can sleep, but, then again, I’m not sure I could sleep without Caitlyn there to calm me. The thought of another attack of pain without anyone there to help me gives me goosebumps.

After a while, Caitlyn steers the conversation back to a topic I’m interested in.

“Have they found the culprit yet?”

My ears perk up. It makes sense for them to look for the person responsible after such a public attack on Piltover, of course, but I haven’t even considered an investigation as the next step. After everything that happened when we blew up a Piltie apartment, I can only guess that they’ll be eager to get a scapegoat for this incident too so everyone can sleep at night. Some poor guy just living his life, maybe, who’ll get to know Stillwater very well.

Jayce sighs before replying. “Not yet, no. There’s no trace of fingerprints. They don’t even have enough shrapnel to figure out what kind of bomb it was.”

I chuckle. “Maybe I still have some in my back, might be worth looking into.”

The two don’t seem to appreciate the interruption. After a brief pause, Caitlyn speaks up.
“Do you think it’s the same person who tried to assassinate Salo?”

“It might make sense, if you think about it. But then why were they out for a senator last time and this time it was a public explosion?”

“Maybe they’re in it for the love of the game,” I say.

I still have the feeling that neither of them like what I say but, if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t really care. They can’t say anything against the almost-dead girl right now so I can say whatever I want. At least most things. I probably shouldn’t make another joke about kissing Caitlyn. Not as long as there’s the danger of it not being a joke.

Soon enough, Jayce excuses himself and it’s just me and Caitlyn again.

“Can I call you Cait too?” I watch her as she turns around. A part of me thinks that I shouldn’t ask her for permission for something so silly, seeing as how I didn’t ask about “cupcake” either, but another part remembers her reaction to my “joke”. Maybe she cares more about these things than I might think.
She scoffs but there’s an odd look in her eyes as she replies. “Sure, go ahead.”

I wonder if it’s a nickname reserved only for her closest friends, like Jayce. Does that mean we’re friends? Or did I just earn nickname privileges because I saved her life?

Either way, I’m already looking forward to being allowed to call her something other than her full name.
A small afterthought pops into my head and I smile. “You can call me Vi, if you want to. I prefer that over Violet.”
Cait nods and smiles too. “Sure.”

Over the course of the next few days, I see more doctors than I have in my whole life. They poke and prod my back, ask me where it hurts and how. Every time I think I’m gonna hit them, they’re gone.

I start taking pills to deal with the pain and to help me sleep at night. Of course I’m used to sleepless nights – I didn’t sleep through a single night in Stillwater – but I’ve grown attached to the comfort of Piltover’s soft beds and dreams.

Cait stays by my side when she’s allowed to, and sometimes even when she’s not. We don't talk about the day I woke up.

She manages to make the doctors’ visits sweet with stories from her childhood. My favourite one is a story she tells me while doctors gather around my bed, her hand in mine. She tells me about a grand dinner, wealthy guests and a little girl that sent the dogs running across the table because she wanted the guests to leave. With a laugh, she reveals that it worked.

Sometimes I share bits of my childhood too. One time I’m high off pain meds because Cait accidentally gave me one too many and I tell her everything about Powder – or everything except for the one night our world blew up.
After another day of doctors and new meds, a nurse comes in to bring welcome news.

“You’re allowed to move around as soon as you feel that that’s possible,” he says. “I’ll come in tomorrow for some exercise but you’re welcome to start on your own before that.”

He nods to Cait on his way out, who steps up to my bed with a gigantic smile on her face.

“Did you hear him? That’s amazing.”

I can’t help but smile at her excitement.

“Come on,” she says before I can reply, “Let’s get you out of bed.”

She helps me sit up at the edge of the bed and, both hands in front of me, ready to catch me, encourages me with gentle words.

I take a deep breath. My knees wobble and my back hurts but I want nothing more than to stand up and walk around. Getting up means being able to go back to the Kirammans. It means a proper bed for Cait instead of a chair in the corner.

Without thinking much about it, I push myself up. Cait’s hands move as if she’s expecting me to fall down. I don’t.

My legs are weak and everything hurts but that’s no different to the way I felt after hours in a cell too small for walking around, freshly beaten.

The freedom of circling my bed instead of helplessly lying in it makes the smile on my face grow so much that it hurts. I feel Cait’s eyes on me every step of the way.

After the first few steps, I decide to talk to her and hobble towards her, unaware of the bed between us. My left foot catches on the bed frame before I can step out of its way and, like a dumb toddler, I fall forward.

I brace myself, waiting for the floor to hit me, but what catches me instead is a set of strong arms. My cheeks heat up as I try to get out of this situation; Slumped against the Kirammans’ surprisingly strong daughter, apparently unable to walk like a normal person. I wouldn’t blame her if she started to laugh at me.

No laughter comes. Her voice rings clear when she asks “Everything okay?”

I look up at her and realise that our faces are less than a hand’s width apart. Her breath grazes my skin as she waits for an answer.

Her damn smile is more addicting than the pain meds. I could stay here forever, in her arms, looking at her thin lips while she smiles at me even though I’m acting like a fool.

And, like even more of a fool, I start to lean up, ever so slowly offering my lips to the one person I trust not to hurt me in this state.

I don’t get to see if she moves towards me. A knock on the door ruins the moment, makes her push me away onto the bed, so gently that it hurts only my heart. She doesn’t look at me as the door opens.

In comes another nurse, this one with a small piece of paper in her hands. She smiles and gives me the note before leaving just as abruptly as she came in.

“I’m going to get some water.” With that, Cait’s gone too. I let out an angry breath as I lean against the hard pillow on my bed.

The note distracts me from my anger, at least for a short moment. It’s signed by Elora and in it she tells me that she and Mel heard about the explosion and commend my bravery. In smaller writing it says that our meeting is delayed to Progress Day, in less than a week. I feel stupid when I realise that I forgot about the meeting.

I get up from my bed, slowly but surely, and stuff the crumpled note into one of the big vases on the table, where the water will make it unreadable. I’m sure Elora wouldn’t want anyone to know that she’s planning a meeting with me. At least I’m smart enough to recognise that.

Soon after I fall back into bed, I fall asleep.

Cait doesn’t visit the next day but at least the nurse tells me I’m healthy enough to go back home. Somehow I’m even able to hold back a bitter chuckle at the word “home”.

Chapter Text

The Kiramman mansion stretches out in front of me once more. Sunlight bounces off the shingles and I have to squint to look at it.

It looks much friendlier like this, without the gloom and distortion of a rainy day. Still, a shiver runs down my back – cleaned and bandaged under a flowy shirt – as I think about what awaits me inside.

I had the option to back away from the whole mission, I think. With nothing but the clothes on my back, I could’ve been out of the hospital window and gone before anyone would ever realise I wasn’t in bed. I could be holding Powder right now but instead I chose to go back to the Kirammans and earn my freedom from Elora. Stupid me.

When the gate opens for me, I take a deep breath and start walking. The mansion’s door is soon thrown open. Out come Cassandra and Tobias, each with a bodyguard in black at their side.

“Welcome Violet,” Cassandra says with a smile, “we’re so happy to see you back with us.”

“How are you feeling?” Tobias asks.

I know that all that question means is how much work I can do, so I put on a smile and walk towards them to shake their hands like a polite person. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Inside the house, I’m told to sit down in an armchair. Cassandra and Tobias quickly sit down opposite me and tell me about everything I missed.

They introduce their new bodyguards, explain security measures and insist on attention at every moment, but one sentence from Cassandra makes it impossible to focus on anything.

“With these new developments,” she says, “we’ve decided that personal bodyguards are the only sensible choice, so you will attend only to Caitlyn and protect her.”

Cait’s personal bodyguard. I hold back a smile and think about how much things have changed – just two weeks ago, the Kirammans would have rather seen me dead than talking to their daughter. Now they’ve made it my job to spend every waking hour with her. The butterflies in my stomach become a violent storm.

I’m still thinking about being Cait’s bodyguard when Mathias eats lunch with me and asks me about the explosion. Even much later, when I head to my room, images of what the future might be like flutter through my mind so much that I almost fall up the stairs.

Luckily I’m allowed to rest today. Cassandra informed me – rather eagerly – that Cait’s busy with studying. Apparently I’m only allowed to talk to her from tomorrow onwards.

The day rushes past as I finally unpack my suitcases and then enjoy the view of the garden from my balcony. Soon enough, I find myself in my bed, all alone with only my thoughts and at least four pillows to keep me company.

My room is much nicer than the hospital, so memories of the disconnect when I came into Piltover from Stillwater rush back to the surface. The mattress feels too swift and bouncy, the blanket far too fluffy and big, and so on until I consider sleeping on the floor.

I stare up into the darkness and wonder if I’ll manage to sleep at all with all the luxuries around once more. The change is unnerving, even though I already managed to get used to this.

Just as I’m finally starting to drift off into a dream, most likely a regular one about being unable to save Cait from the explosion, someone knocks on my door.

It’s a sound so shy it’s barely audible, but it makes me jump out of bed immediately to open the door. After all, it’s the same knocking I heard every day in the hospital.

I hurry to the door but part of me hesitates. It’s late at night, Cait’s parents are asleep… I’m not sure if I could walk away from whatever comes next, even if it might make me lose my job if Cassandra finds out.

A soft voice comes from the other side of the door. “Vi, are you there?”

That’s when I know I don’t care what happens next. I need to see her. Worst case scenario, I lose my job, have to run away to the Undercity and visit her like a thief in the night. The thought makes me smile.

I open the door and pull Cait into the room, then quickly check that there’s no one else around.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her after I close the door.

She’s wearing a purple silky nightgown. I tell myself to focus on her face – as beautiful as always – so I can actually talk to her.

Cait answers, slightly out of breath. “I wanted to show you something. I didn’t know you were back.” Her smile looks like the moon. “I was busy all day and they told me I couldn’t visit you because you had a surgery, and I was so worried, and I wanted to sneak out, but then I talked to Mathias and he told me that you arrived today, and-”

“It’s okay.” I take her hand and look her in the eyes. They’re the sky on a sunny day, so warm I could stay there forever.

Cait looks at our hands. Her smile becomes softer. For a second, I think she’s leaning towards me, but then she sighs and takes a tiny step back.

“I…I wanted to show you something. I’ve been working on something.”

I frown in confusion. “Okay?”

“I promise it’s interesting,” she adds before opening the door again and leading me out of my room, her hand still in mine. I don't get a choice but I don't think I would have chosen not to spend time with her anyways, so it's fine.

We manage to sneak through the hallway without any creaky floorboards because Cait tells me which ones to avoid. She looks around every so often, as if checking for other people, but every time she does, her eyes land on our hands and I can imagine the tiniest hint of a blush on her face.

It feels like an eternity has passed until we finally reach her room. Cait opens the door and ushers me in. As I enter, I see her smile growing.

Door closed, she takes my hand again and pulls me to the middle of the room. Only when we reach it do I look away from her face and see what she wanted to show me. My mouth falls open.

On the ground is a big mess of pictures, held together by a net of red string. I think I see the Academy square, and next to it a picture of the explosion.
Newspaper articles are attached to more pictures. When I look closer, I see that there are official files with “Classified” written on them in big red letters.

“Cait…” I look at her and find her already looking at me. As much as I want to compliment her work, I need to know what she’s planning to do with this. “Are those enforcer files?”

Her smile slowly falls. “They are. But I needed them more.”

We walk over to her bed and sit down. Cait sighs.

“The thing is, Vi, that the enforcers stopped the investigation. They say they’re still working on finding the suspect so that the public doesn’t freak out but they know they have no evidence to go off of.”

“What?” It’s only been two weeks. Cait could’ve been killed and they just give up?

“Cait… how do you know all this? And where did you get the files?”

She looks at me with her innocent eyes and, though I know that she’s going to say something I don’t want to hear based on her empathetic look, I listen with my whole heart.

“I’ve been networking with enforcers so it’ll be easier to get a spot at their academy, and after explaining the situation to some of them it was relatively easy to get these files. I mean, they want the investigation to finish too, and they trust me, so–”

I stop listening as dread wraps itself around my exposed heart. Enforcers. Monsters hiding in the smoke when I was a kid, incompetent bastards with a burning hate against the Undercity now. Corruption itself and Cait wants to be part of it.

Cait continues talking but I just fall back onto the bed and close my eyes. I don’t want to believe that someone as amazing as her would want to be an enforcer. Surely she doesn’t mean it. She can’t mean it.

“Vi, is everything alright?”

I stand up and get away from the bed. After just two steps, I can't take the silence anymore, so I turn around and look at her. I hope she sees the pain in my eyes.

“Why would you want to be one of them?” My voice breaks. I don’t know if it’s anger or shock burning in my throat.

Cait frowns, a confused smile forming on her lips. Lips that will speak the death sentence for the Undercity if she continues on this path.

“I don’t know what you mean. This is what you focus on? I’m working on investigating the explosion, Vi. And the enforcers are helping me.” She crosses her arms. “Why shouldn’t I be one of them? You sound like my mother.”

Words die on my tongue before I can say anything. I take a deep breath and try not to scream.

“The enforcers are the ones who gave up the investigation in the first place.” I want to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she realises what she’s saying.

“They’re a plague on the Undercity,” I continue. “They don’t give a fuck about us, they just show up and arrest and kill people before anyone even knows what’s going on. Do you want to be like that?”

I feel tears building up behind my eyes but push through the pain. “Cait, they’re corrupted monsters who care more about quotas and making the Pilties feel safe than actually solving any problems. Please tell me you’re joking.”

As I speak, Cait’s face changes from confusion to shock to anger. I can’t hold the tears back any longer when she speaks and it becomes clear that she didn’t listen to anything I said.

“Where did you hear all that?” She looks away. “They protect us. Vi, I don’t think you really know what they do.”

This time I shout. “Of course I fucking know what they do. They’re the ones who sent me to Stillwater!” I turn around and walk to the door. My throat hurts; I know that I’ll be crying through the night.

I need to leave now. Maybe I can run away tonight and never come back. I’d rather take my chances with Elora than staying here with someone who doesn’t understand.

I’m about to open the door when a quiet, devastated voice says something.

“You were in Stillwater?”

My body turns around before I tell it to. I’m unsure of what’s happening when something crashes into me. Then arms embrace me and Cait’s sobbing fills the room.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles again and again.

I hug her too. Her tears fall onto my shoulder.

Cait takes a shaky breath and looks at me. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

As much as I want to take in this moment, her words still ring in the back of my mind. She wants to be an enforcer. I don’t know if my confession changes anything. But fighting won’t change anything either.

So I push her away and hold her at arms’ length. “Cait, why do you want to be an enforcer? And don’t say it’s because they protect us because that’s a fucking lie.”

She wipes her tears with the back of her hand. Her words are quiet at first but then confident, as if she finally realises why she really wants to be one of them.

“I want to be better. I want to build a future where they really do protect everyone.” Cait breathes through her tears until they slowly stop. “How could I do that if not by becoming one of them?”

That’s when I realise that I’m in love. Her eyes are red and her hair a mess, her words shaky and only a small step towards realisation but I know that I want her honesty, her empathy, her heart and I’m ready to have every fight this world has to offer if only they're with her.

I pull her in and lean up to reach her lips. Cait closes her eyes. She leans into the kiss as much as I do.
Her lips are soft and warm. I want to kiss her until the day I die.

We embrace each other. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good, with the butterflies in my stomach flying loops and warmth creeping into every inch of my body. Her lips on mine feel like a puzzle that’s finally solved.

I want this moment to last forever. When we come up to take a breath, we look at each other and there’s a love in her eyes that I want to see next to me every day I wake up.

I’m not sure how long we stand there, lips mixing with tears of relief and love, gasping for air like fish out of water, more comfortable than ever before, but it's not long enough. I don't know how I ever survived without her.

Cait pulls away first and tells me that she has to show me her investigation map. She explains every piece of string and tells me where each picture comes from but all I can look at is her beautiful face.

“And with the witness account from Salo, it just seems like it wasn’t really planned through, so the person responsible acts impulsively rather than taking time to plan out what they’re going to do…Vi, are you even listening?”

I clear my throat. “You’re talking about the person who attacked Salo and planted the bombs.”

Cait nods and smiles, then continues explaining. I breathe a sigh of relief at having been able to talk at all. My brain feels fogged up, like my thoughts are all stuck in spiderwebs and all I can think about is the kiss. I have no idea how Cait is managing to talk right now.

Leaning against one of the columns in the room, I look over the pictures. Cait’s talking about spray paint being used in Salo’s apartment. I think she wants me to engage with the topic, so I actually try to listen and, soon enough, a question pops up in my fogged-up brain.

“Why do you think it’s the same person?”

Cait stares at me. I interrupted her, but she doesn’t look all that mad. Instead, she looks proud, like I asked the right question. I feel my cheeks heat up as she smiles and walks up to me.

She stops agonisingly far from me. At least that way I don’t have to think about her breath on my skin, or her warm hand in mine.

“Well, the enforcers actually speculated that it was two separate people, or maybe a group of people who sent out separate individuals. I think that it’s the same person because the method of attack is very similar.

“Just think about it – both times, people were able to get away, so perhaps the attacker didn’t actually want to harm people, and both times there was needless destruction. Salo’s apartment was torn apart and full of spray paint, so much so that he had to move, and two of the three bombs planted at Academy square didn’t seem to be planted there for direct harm, rather some sense of fear…and why would anyone who only cares about killing set the bombs to three different times?”

I love how smart she is. But I don’t tell her that so her ego doesn’t get bloated. “Makes sense,” is all I say.

“So now only the question remains of who did it, and why.”

“That’s two questions.”

Cait crosses her arms. She looks angry, but only for a second, and then she grins at me. “That’s why I need you here.”

I step closer. “Really? That’s the only reason?”

Her eyes focus on me. I soak her attention up like a sponge. Without thinking about it much, I grab her hand and pull her closer.

Our second kiss is just as sweet as the first one. I wonder how I ever stopped kissing her.

Her breath mingles with mine, a warm mess. My hand behind her head, I pull her closer even when we’re already stuck together, two people in one body.

We don’t do much more than kissing that night. Cait walks me over to her bed and we lay there together, looking at each other’s faces more closely than ever before, but soon enough the action of the last weeks catches up with us and we become nothing more than two bodies lying on the bed, lightly snoring.

I dream of something sweet for the first time in weeks.