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An afternoon in Zaun.
The Undercity smelled of rust, seafood and something sweet frying in oil. Caitlyn walked closely beside her mother, the boots clicking unevenly on the grated metal pathway. Cassandra held her hand loosely as they followed the other councillors and Heimerdinger, leading the first visit through the narrow alleyways, where filtered sunlight split between pipes and scaffolding.
She could see children her age giggling and playing on mismatched roofs, each house connected to the next. Caitlyn could feel and see how the tight-knit community could call this home; no one was hiding, it was honest and full of good-hearted people. Adults spoke in softer tones, their rough-around-the-edges accents native to Zaun, behind them, discussing trade routes, cooperation, and, hopefully, peace, but Caitlyn wasn’t listening.
She was watching.
And what Caitlyn saw was different. It was a world painted in oil and rust, filled with wide eyes and louder laughter, hawker stands filling any space they could fill like sailors in a deflating liferaft, the elders screaming, “Jerky for sale”
The loudest was a large, beefy Vastaya chuckling out,
“AYE AYE! Fresh Fried Fish, Come get what's left!”
This is where hands-held tools and hard hats were used instead of teacups and letters; they were undoubtedly more tightly packed than Piltover, yet less refined than the topsiders were accustomed to.
That was when she saw her.
A dirty red-haired girl about her age, sitting cross-legged near a crooked stack of crates: her hair was wild, and her face was dotted with fetching freckles and smudges of dirt and oil. Cute. In her lap sat a rusted wind-up toy with a crooked wheel and a spring half-uncurled, which she seemed to be fixing by sheer force of will.
Caitlyn slowed, tugging gently at her mother’s hand. Cassandra looked down.
“What is it, darling?” But Caitlyn had already stepped toward the girl, her grip loosening from Cassandra’s as she approached. Cassandra smiled at her daughter and continued speaking to the violet-haired pregnant woman beside her. “I think easy trade routes—Caitlyn wasn’t paying attention to what her mother was talking about, it was too much talking and a little less action for her–
Caitlyn stood before the cute red-haired girl.
The red-haired girl looked up, curious but unafraid. She smiled easily, like this wasn’t the first time she’d caught someone staring.
“Nice bunny,” she said, inclining her head.
Caitlyn clutched Sir Hopsworth closer to her chest. “He’s my advisor,” she said rather confidently.
The girl giggled. “What’s he advising you on? Tea?”
Caitlyn blinked before she herself couldn't help but giggle at the cute response. “Tea and biscuits, as well as, of course, bedtime negotiations.”
This earned a bigger laugh. “I like that.”
The redhead held up her toy with pride. “This is Lieutenant Clanky. Uncle Vander made it– He’s sorta busted, but I think he’s still got some fight in him.”
Caitlyn stepped closer. Her gaze moved from the toy to the girl’s face—grimy, cheerful, full of something bright and rough around the edges. And in her chest, something quiet nudged within her.
She looked down at Sir Hopsworth.
Then up again.
With a small breath, she extended the bunny forward.
The girl blinked. “Wait. For real?”
Caitlyn nodded. “This is Sir Hopsworth. He can be your advisor now. He’s… he’s good at that.”
The red-haired girl took him like he was made of glass, hugging him close with a huge grin. “Wow. Thanks…. I’ll share him when my sister arrives," she said, pointing with her head towards a pregnant woman who was talking with her mother.
Caitlyn smiled, her ears burning.
They didn’t say anything else. It's just a quiet exchange.
From a short distance away, Cassandra stood with the councillors and some people from the undercity, watching the moment with quiet eyes. She made no move to interrupt. She simply took it in—the sight of her daughter giving away her favourite toy, her lifelong companion, without hesitation, to a girl who needed something to hold.
Later, as they walked back toward the elevator that would carry them up to Piltover, Cassandra glanced down at her daughter.
“That was very kind of you,” she said gently. “Sir Hopsworth is special.”
Caitlyn nodded, “Without any doubt.”
Cassandra was quiet for a moment. Then, she gently asked, “Why did you give him away?”
Caitlyn looked up at her, thoughtful. “It wasn’t just about being nice, nor about potential benefits.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow, interested. “No?”
“She looked like she needed someone to be on her side, in a time and place where such opportunities are few and far between,” Caitlyn said.
Cassandra’s gaze softened, pride blooming behind her calm expression.
Caitlyn shrugged, almost shy. “It just… felt like the right thing to do.”
Cassandra reached down and gave her hand a slight, warm squeeze. “Then I think you were exactly right.” As they stepped into the elevator, Caitlyn turned and peeked back down the alley. The redhead remained seated, cradling Sir Hopsworth in one arm while fiddling with Lieutenant Clanky in the other. Before dashing over towards her mother, her toothy smile proudly showing off the gift she had received.