Chapter Text
Dear Mel,
I am writing to you ahead of our bi-annual correspondence, for a miracle has happened. Jayce returned to us a few weeks ago; I have no words. I am still processing the news. There is so much to uncover, so much to unpack. He wants to hear from you. He insists. He's changed a bit, but I suppose that's to be expected given the context. Looking forward to hearing from you very soon.
Your friend,
Caitlyn Kiramman.
Ps : I've attached an article from this newspaper. Please, be careful if you ever come back to visit, Zaunites and Piltovans are not exactly on good terms with magic, and they're obsessed with this kind of rhetoric.
Attachment :
Magic is the root of chaos. It corrupts the mind, poisons the soul and weakens our values. Magic threatens the very foundations of our society. We must remain vigilant, for even the smallest spark of magic can ignite the downfall of our cities. Our strength lies in science, progress and a brilliant future, one that will raise and uplift our cities, not burn them to the ground.
D.o.T
Mel let out a sharp, dry snort of derision. She didn't believe a single syllable of that letter.
To her, this had to be another of the Black Rose's pathetic tricks.
The reason? She didn't know for certain, perhaps they were luring her back to Piltover with the news of 'Jayce's return' so they can mistreat her once again for her powers. Torture seems to be the best way to unlock a mage's potential.
Apparently. She thought sarcastically.
In any case, this sudden, 'break in correspondence' was suspicious at best, or an admission of a trap at worst. She also refused to believe that some doofus blames all the world's problems on magic. It felt like a personal insult that they thought their forged letter would trick her.
The Black Rose had stopped their direct assaults on her and her family, two years ago. Having seen that Mel wasn't easily bought, they seemed to be reconsidering their tactics; after all, if she could trick the Deceiver and stand against her own mother to save a city that wasn't hers, for what would she ever yield?
Clearly, violence and blackmail had failed. Now, they simply sent reminders that they are still open to 'recruitment' through cryptic signs, luring her with the promise of 'helping her unlock her true potential as her power grows.' This sign, however, was particularly irritating.
She folded the letter, pressing the crease until her nail went pale, sealing away any flicker of growing hope. She preferred the cold comfort of denial, choosing to wait for Caitlyn's next usual letter for any real confirmation.
With a sigh, she pulled a heavy file toward her. It was one of the last records from the family archives from Rokrund. She hoped it would finally expose the intricacies of her family's connections to the Black Rose after years of investigation.
"Wait a minute," Rell interrupted, uncrossing her legs from where they rested atop Mel's mahogany desk. Rell was leafing through a private record Mel usually kept to herself, her heavy boots leaving faint scuffs on the polished wood.
"What is it ?" Mel asked, her brow furrowing, pushing off Rell's leg from her desk.
"You never told me your cousin Jago was a fifty-six-year old pale dude when you were sent to him at fifteen," she said, fiddling with a miniature portrait.
"Is that such an important detail to you?" Mel asked, her nose buried in the file, though her mind briefly drifted to her cousin's air of pity when she first arrived in Piltover.
"Of course it is. You'll confuse the hell out of your descendants."
"Good news. I don't plan on having any," Mel chuckled. "And I'm fairly certain, I specified he was a cousin by marriage who took our name."
Rell hummed. "Why isn't the wife listed here?"
"I never met her. She was gone when I arrived in Piltover. Jago never spoke of her; I think he lived in a perpetual state of denial. Every morning, he'd prepare two cups of coffee, set one across from him, and sit in silence until he finished his."
"His son didn't tell you anything?"
Mel shrugged, "Jae was cheerful and talkative when he deigned to stay home for more than a week, but he was a vault when it came to that topic. I could still try to ask him for archive purposes, but it's been twelve years since I last saw him in Piltover."
Rell leaned back. "Well, your family's story is sure interesting."
"Our family," Mel corrected with a small smile, flipping through the rest of the dossier.
But slowly, her lips thinned into a hard line as an icy chill seized her heart. Everything she had been terrified to find out was confirmed in a single cold line of text.
She closed the folder slowly, her jaw locking tight. Her palms grew damp, and she began to massage her temples in a desperate attempt at self-regulation. She reopened the page, stared at the proof, and slammed it shut again. The heavy cover cracked through the silent office like a whip.
Her breathing quickened, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her throat tightened so painfully she could barely swallow. She squeezed her eyes shut the moment she felt them begin to burn.
"Mel? What's wrong?" Rell asked, her voice dropping its playful edge as she set the record she was reading aside.
With a sharp, jagged exhale, Mel stood up. "Nothing."
The rhythmic click of her heels echoed against the stone floor, a stark contrast to her usual graceful glide. Rell watched in stunned silence as Mel marched toward her, retrieving a metallic artifact from her pocket with trembling hands.
"Here," Mel said.
"Rictus's rookern?" Rell stared at the rare artifacts they inherited from Ambessa and her right hand man, a shield that mitigates any amount of magic damage. Both Mel and Rell used it as a 'magic sensor', convenient to detect any Black Rose puppet. Her heart sank at the memory of the pair.
The two women had stood in this exact spot two years ago, arguing over this same piece of metal. Back then, neither had wanted to claim it; each had tried to force the protection onto the other in a stubborn display of sacrifice. In the end, Mel had kept it, the second one was passed to their young cousin.
"Yes. Take it. You need far more than I do now."
"How?" Rell sighed "Let's not go back here. Between you and me, I'm pretty sure you're the one who needs it," Rell said, her thick, pierced brow rising in an expression between confusion and vexation. "I still know how to use my powers, you know."
"This has nothing to do with mastery. You are out in the open, in much more danger than I am. Please, take it." Mel insisted, forcing the cold metal into Rell's hands.
"The old hag is both in our tails. I don't need it more than you."
"True," Mel countered, her voice steady even as her patience began to crack. "But unlike me, you also have the authorities of the empire hunting you down, so keep it."
"And you are still in the 'baby stages' of your magic," Rell added with a dry, sharp smile.
"I can use my shield just fine, that's enough."
Rell rolled her eyes. "Please don't play the hero.'"
"The hero? Me?"
"Yes. I don't like when you get this overbearing attitude." She huffed.
Mel stepped closer, gripping Rell's shoulders, not to restrain her, but to ground herself as the room began to spin. She exhaled through a blurred, watery gaze. "Mother, Kino, Elora, Tivadar, all of them gone. Because of me and my magic."
"What the hell?" Rell frowned, her voice picking up. "You should blame the witch and her goons, not yours-"
"Because my father by blood hid me and my 'gift' from that sect." Mel cut her off, the words spilling out like a confession that had been rotting inside her. "And everyone else had to pay the price for it. Is that what you call a hero?"
She turned away frantically, snatched up the record, and put it into Rell's hands. "Guess what? He is gone, too."
Allegedly, a sacrifice for her mother.
A jagged, dry laugh escaped her. For three years, she had been hunting for the missing pieces of her soul. She had even caught herself, the few times she visited a marketplace, unconsciously scanning the faces in the crowd, looking for a tall, dark-skinned man with long locs and hazel eyes, his skin adorned with golden tattoos.
That foolish hope had flared up in her for three years. Reminiscent of the ghost of her teenage self wandering through Bel'zhun artists' market to escape the suffocating tension of her family's home. She had unknowingly met him there once, a single encounter that had left indelible traces on her skin and heart. She had wanted to believe he was still out there, that he had simply lost her trail or was too scared to be near her by sheer protection. The scenario she imagined was simple : they would reconnect, talk about what they missed in each other's life, and he would teach her about her magic.
Their magic. Powers that overwhelm her very senses, trapping her in a cycle of fascination, frustration and solitude, with no compass to navigate the chaos.
How childish she felt.
All that hope crumbled with a single sentence : he was gone too. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hold back the tears this time.
Am I cursed?
She had buried that feeling for years, knowing it would lead only to despair and stagnation. But how could she fight it now? Not only had her 'gift' killed her loved ones, but her decisions had too.
Her push for Hextech to revolutionize the world, her dream of a 'bloodless' leadership, ended up in nothing but war and bloodshed.
She shook her head, wiping her tears with a sharp motion. When her vision finally cleared, her gaze caught her reflection in the mirror. She was draped in an elegant, deep red cape, the train as sharp as a venomous thorn, poisoning every life that dared approach her.
"Rell, please, " she whispered, her voice breaking as she placed the rookern in her hands in a desperate motion. "Take it. I need you...I need you to stay alive."
With the confirmation of her biological father's passing, Mel definitely felt the rookern had no place in her hands. It belonged to Rell.
Rell was fearless, strong and perfectly wielded her magic with a lethal grace she knew she could never match. Between the two of them, Rell was more likely to survive and endure. Beyond that, Mel felt that Rell deserved a life of hope and longevity after being tortured by the Black Rose for so many years. Mel wanted her to have every shield possible.
Who knows? Maybe Rell would be the one to eventually take the reins of House Medarda, and become the general, even though she was currently uninterested in the role, for she had other plans.
Rell opened her mouth to protest, to argue that she needed the protection just as much. But seeing her so utterly undone, she relented for now. Watching Mel, the very embodiment of calm and composure, in such a state of anguish was dumbfounding.
Their relationship had always been tumultuous, birthed on shaky ground. Although their love and attachment had quickly become undeniable, as they shared the weight of grief, their magic and the hunt from the Black Rose, their diverging views on Noxus remained a bitter rift between them, a constant source of friction.
Rell was sick of Mel's diplomacy and her ties to the likes of Swain, alliances supposedly built to fight the Black Rose. But she didn't see it as such.
He was the face of betrayal.
Ten years ago, Rell had emerged from the Black Rose laboratories after being used for magic transfusions and agonizing 'enhancements'. After witnessing her ferromancy powers, the members elected her as one of the figures who could defeat Noxus's greatest threat : Mordekaiser, waiting patiently beneath the Bastion.
Leblanc's true enemy.
Leblanc's greatest fear.
So Rell was subjugated to excruciating pain while surrounded by the screams of victims whose magic was being torn and stolen. For those victims, the fate was unforgiving : they were either dead or turned into 'nulls", nothing more than empty shells with beating hearts.
Alongside three other survivors who had been enhanced for the secret society's dark purposes, Rell successfully escaped. They promptly vowed to alert the authorities to the horrors they had witnessed and dedicated themselves to fighting for the recovery and justice of the nulls.
But before she could fight for anyone else, Rell first had to confront Ambessa over her abandonment. At fifteen, she was destined for adoption by the matriarch after she witnessed her prowess in the Medarda's family arena. Rell had been fighting as a reckoner, a lucrative trade pushed upon her by greedy parents who saw their daughter as nothing more than a tool.
Recognizing her genuine talent and love for the craft, Ambessa had recruited her in her warband to teach her the art of combat. She envisioned Rell as either her own successor, or Mel's right hand man since the latter lacked the strength and bravery Ambessa deemed necessary. But shortly after, Rell's magic manifested and the Black Rose kidnapped her.
During her years in the Black Rose's laboratories, Rell felt like a discarded tool once again, believing Ambessa had only wanted her so she could become the 'wolf' to Mel's 'fox, a backup heir.
However, the war matriarch eventually dissipated that bitterness, explaining the terror she had felt and the desperate lengths she had gone to in search to find and protect her. Somehow, their relationship healed. Ambessa officially adopted her, taking her under her wing and raising the young woman as her own blood.
But the peace between them quickly cracked. To protect Rell and the family, Ambessa demanded she stay put and keep a low profile regarding the Black Rose and the nulls. This sparked a new conflict, yet Rell initially listened; the lingering trauma of the laboratories and Ambessa's fierce protection offered a comfort she wasn't ready to lose.
That was until the horrific truth reached her: the nulls were being retrieved by the noble houses of Noxus. They were being sold for scientific experimentation, domestic servitude, and other unnamable atrocities. These heartless aristocrats had managed to strip away the last shreds of humanity the 'shells' had left.
Driven by fury, Rell and her friends turned to the higher authorities. She reasoned that if the Noxian leadership knew the nulls were the direct result of the Black Rose's depravity, they would surely act. Their shared hatred for the secret society would have to lead to a solid partnership, united in the goal of dismantling the coven once and for all.
Right?
Her naivety was snuffed out the moment she realized that, to them, it didn't matter at all.
That bitter realization led Rell to a single conclusion : neither she nor Mel should ever tie themselves to the Noxian authorities, regardless of their shared abhorrence for the Black Rose.
To Rell, the government didn't care for its citizens, despite their vocal pride in accepting everyone and offering a chance for anyone to rise if they fought for it. In her eyes, they despised anything deemed 'weak' and hungered only for strength and power. Their hatred for the Black Rose wasn't born out of justice, but of rivalry, the sect was simply the only adversary great enough to threaten their control.
Mel, however, held a different stance. Her focus was narrowed to the absolute protection of her family, especially since she decided to carry the crushing weight of responsibility for the deaths of so many. She vowed not to follow her mother's path where 'protection' meant conquest and coldness. Instead, she would stay close to those she loved, honing her own powers to master the poisoned gift that had already proven its devastating worth during the war in Piltover.
To Mel, protecting meant forging strategic alliances with the Black Rose's enemies, notably the Noxian government. She swore to herself it would never go deeper than that: a cold partnership with the sole purpose of dismantling the coven.
The sisters had initially gone together to rescue the nulls, but Mel's responsibilities as the general and head of the house were too time-consuming, forcing her to step back. She settled for funding a rehabilitation facility in an undisclosed location.
Rell's friends were relieved by Mel's disengagement, not because they disliked her, but because the endless bickering between the sisters was wearing them out. Rell was restless, constantly pointing out the hypocrisy of saving the nulls while shaking hands with the authorities who ignored their very existence.
Mel argued it was a necessary collaboration against the Black Rose and the total destruction of the empire Rell offered was an unviable solution. She judged it as a desperate cry that ignored the possibility of reform and mercy for the innocent, serving only as a conduit for potential anarchy. Rell countered that those alliances started with mutual interest but always ended up in complacency and eventually, a silent agreement.
Though today, she decided to stay put. She silenced her protests; Mel needed support now more than ever, not more grief.
"Fine," Rell whispered. She gripped the cold metallic object and fiercely wrapped her arms around Mel's trembling body. In that embrace, she held her sister tight, letting the political rifts fade as Mel mourned the final, shattered hope of a living father.