Work Text:
Jinx Will Not Be Attending
A slow breath stirred the stillness of the room.
Blonde hair, bright even in the dim light, spilled across the pillow like liquid gold. A single sheet draped loosely over Luxanna’s body, rising and falling with the quiet rhythm of sleep. For a fleeting moment, there was no duty, no expectation—only warmth, rest, and something dangerously close to peace.
Then came the intrusion.
Not harsh. Not unwelcome.
Familiar.
A faint hiss. The soft crackle of heat. Metal clicking into place with careful precision. The scent followed—oil, smoke, and something sharp beneath it. Welding.
Lux frowned slightly, her lashes fluttering, though her eyes refused to open. She knew that sound. Knew that smell. It curled into her senses like a memory she never wanted to lose.
Her arm drifted lazily across the bed, fingers searching.
Empty.
The absence tugged her closer to waking.
With a quiet exhale, she turned, finally surrendering to the light. It filtered weakly through the room, pale and hesitant, forcing her vision to adjust in slow increments. Shapes blurred, then sharpened.
And there—
A figure, half-lit by morning.
Jinx sat at a cluttered workbench, one leg hooked up onto the chair, posture loose but intent. She wore little more than a worn tank top smeared with motor oil and a pair of black panties, entirely unconcerned with anything beyond the delicate work in her hands. The faint light caught in her long, loose hair, turning it into a cascade of shifting shades of blue down her back.
She moved with quiet focus, tools dancing between her fingers.
Lux didn’t speak at first.
She simply watched.
Enchanted.
“What are you working on?” she finally asked, her voice soft, sleep still clinging to its edges.
“Mm… just a little personal project.”
Jinx glanced over her shoulder, vibrant pink eyes catching the light with a familiar spark.
“Morning, my light.”
The words landed gently—and still, they stole Lux’s breath as if she were hearing them for the first time.
Months, and it hadn’t dulled.
Not even a little.
“I made some of that Ixtali coffee you like,” Jinx added, gesturing vaguely toward the far side of the room.
Lux followed the motion with her eyes. “Kitchen” was generous—just a fridge, a sink, and what looked suspiciously like a retrofitted flamethrower pressed into service as a stove. Beside it, though, sat something far more refined: a sleek Piltovan coffee maker, steam curling lazily from a half-full pot.
A strange, perfect contradiction.
“Mhmm… delicious,” Lux murmured, though she hadn’t even tasted it yet.
She slipped from the bed, the sheet falling away without ceremony. The air was cool against her skin, but she hardly noticed. Instead, she reached for Jinx’s coat where it lay discarded on the floor—last night’s casualty—and draped it over her shoulders.
It still smelled like her.
Lux crossed the room without hurry, drawn more than walking.
Her arms slid around Jinx’s waist from behind, fitting there with easy familiarity.
“Thanks…”
Jinx tilted her head just enough.
Lux leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek—right at the edge of her lips. There was a faint bitterness there.
Coffee.
Jinx huffed something like a quiet laugh.
Lux lingered a moment longer, then pulled away, reaching for a cup. As she poured, her gaze wandered, taking in the space around her.
The hideout.
Tucked along the border of Piltover and Zaun, hidden in plain sight. When Jinx had first brought her here, it had been little more than a shell—no windows, no warmth, no place to stay.
Now…
Now it had been reshaped.
For her.
Lux traced the rim of her cup, something soft settling in her chest.
Most nights, she stayed. Until duty pulled her back—to Piltover, to diplomacy, to the careful mask of Demacia’s ambassador.
She lifted the cup—
Then paused.
The gala.
Tonight.
The thought hit like a weight. She sighed, quiet but heavy.
“What’s with that face?” Jinx asked, already watching her.
Lux turned just in time to see Jinx open her palm. A small mechanical butterfly unfolded from her hand, wings flickering to life as it lifted into the air. It circled lazily before drifting toward Lux.
She raised her hand, letting it land.
A smile broke through despite herself.
“I have to leave soon,” she said. “Need to get ready for the gala tonight.”
“Ah, that bore fest,” Jinx replied instantly, shifting in her chair. “That’s tonight? Can’t you just skip it? I’m sure I could come up with a million better ways to spend your time.”
The wink was immediate.
Predictable.
Dangerous.
Lux huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head as she set the butterfly gently in her palm.
“You know I can’t. It’s to commemorate the alliance between Demacia and Piltover. No matter how boring it is… I have to be there.”
Jinx tilted her head, considering.
“Then I’ll come with you.”
Lux laughed outright this time.
“Yes, because bringing Piltover’s most wanted criminal as my date will definitely strengthen international relations.”
“Oh, come on,” Jinx smirked. “I can behave.”
Lux arched a brow, stepping closer again.
“…No. You can’t.”
She kissed her—quick, warm, certain.
Jinx melted into it anyway, grin tugging at her lips.
“Yeah,” she admitted softly. “You’re right.”
Lux pulled back, placing the butterfly back into Jinx’s hand.
Jinx caught her wrist lightly, then shifted, fastening the tiny creation into Lux’s hair like a clip. The delicate wings settled perfectly among strands of gold.
“Keep it,” Jinx said. “It’ll match your dress.”
Lux stilled, surprised—and pleased.
“Oh… so you did remember.”
Jinx just shrugged, like it hadn’t mattered.
Like it hadn’t been deliberate.
Lux smiled.
She gathered the rest of her things, the moment stretching thin as reality crept back in. When she reached the door, Jinx was already there, waiting for when the goodbye would come.
“I’ll see you later.”
Lux wrapped her arms around her one last time, holding just a second longer than necessary.
“And I’m serious,” she added quietly. “Don’t crash the gala.”
Jinx rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Jinx will not be attending,” she said, mocking the formality.
“Good.”
One last kiss.
Then Lux was gone.
Jinx lingered in the doorway, watching until she disappeared from view.
Silence settled.
And then—
A slow, sharp grin.
“Alright,” she muttered, turning back toward her workbench.
“Let’s get ready.”
The gala unfolded at the heart of Upper Piltover’s botanical gardens—a carefully curated display of beauty and power.
Glass and gold rose at its center, an elegant structure designed to host the city’s most important guests. Around it, the gardens bloomed in deliberate perfection—rare flowers, sculpted hedges, and winding paths lit by soft hextech glow. It was a place meant to impress.
And, Lux noted, a place built as far from Zaun as physically possible.
As if distance alone could erase it.
She watched it all through the window of her hextech carriage, the world beyond tinted faintly gold. The gardens drifted past like a painting—untouched, serene, almost unreal.
For once, she had arrived alone.
No entourage. No handlers. No expectations—if only for a few fleeting moments.
She exhaled slowly, letting the quiet settle into her bones before it could be taken from her.
Because beyond those gates waited her responsibilities.
…and her mother.
The guest list alone was enough to exhaust her. Prominent Piltovan merchant families. Representatives of noble Demacian houses. A scattering of knights for show—polished armor and polite smiles. Together, they formed the carefully constructed illusion of unity.
At the center of it all: the Crownguards, representing the crown’s interests.
Lux had hoped—briefly, foolishly—that her brother or her aunt might have taken the role this time. But duty had claimed them elsewhere.
Which meant—
She sighed, pressing her fingers briefly to her temple.
—her parents.
Her hand drifted upward instead, brushing against the delicate weight nestled in her hair.
The mechanical butterfly.
Its wings caught the light faintly, gold and blue glinting in perfect harmony with her dress. Subtle. Elegant.
Her lips curved despite herself.
I wonder what Mother would say…
The thought lingered just long enough to warm her—before the carriage slowed.
Reality returned all at once.
The entrance loomed ahead.
Lux straightened.
The softness in her expression faded, smoothed away as if it had never been there. Her shoulders squared, her chin lifted just so. By the time the carriage came to a full stop, the transformation was complete.
Ambassador.
Crownguard.
Perfection.
She stepped out into the evening air without hesitation.
She’s right, Lux thought dryly as she crossed the threshold. This is a borefest.
—
Inside, the illusion continued.
Silk and silver. Laughter that never quite reached the eyes. Conversations polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting nothing real. Guests drifted from table to table like actors hitting their marks, while waitstaff wove seamlessly between them, trays balanced with effortless precision.
Above it all, banners hung in careful symmetry.
Demacia’s silver and blue intertwined with Piltover’s gold.
Unity, rendered in fabric.
Lux had dressed for the part—a gown of silver, blue, and gold that spoke of diplomacy without shouting it. Understated. Intentional. Every detail chosen.
Except one.
Her fingers brushed lightly against the butterfly in her hair.
That had been chosen for her.
“Luxanna.”
The voice cut cleanly through the noise.
Lux turned, her expression already shifting—softening into something warm, familiar, appropriately respectful.
“Mother,” she greeted, inclining her head just enough. “I’m glad to see you arrived safely.”
Augatha Crownguard stood as immaculate as ever, her silver gown draped with a royal blue sash that marked her station. Every inch of her radiated control.
“Yes,” Augatha replied, her tone measured—and edged. “Though I must admit, I had my doubts about those… Hexgates.”
A faint pause.
She stressed the word as though it were distasteful.
“And that tower they’ve constructed.”
There it was—that quiet disdain, wrapped neatly in civility.
“But,” she continued, smoothing it over, “I cannot deny their efficiency. We left the capital this morning.”
Lux held her composure, though she felt the familiar tension coil beneath it.
Her mother had never trusted magic.
Not even when it lived in her own daughter.
Yet here she stood, playing her part—wife to Pieter Crownguard, pillar of the crown, mother to Demacia’s ambassador.
Pragmatism, if nothing else.
“Of course,” Lux said evenly.
Augatha’s gaze sharpened slightly, studying her.
“And you, dear daughter?” she asked. “How have you been?”
A beat.
“I was speaking with your father,” she continued, almost casually, “and we were wondering if perhaps you might have found a suitable match among Piltover’s… innovators.”
There it was.
Lux’s smile didn’t falter.
If only you knew.
For just a flicker of a second, blue hair and reckless eyes crossed her mind.
“Mother,” Lux replied smoothly, “I’m here to represent Demacia. Not to seek a husband.”
“One does not exclude the other.”
Of course it didn’t.
Lux shifted, redirecting with practiced ease.
“Where is Father?”
Augatha turned, gesturing lightly.
“Oh—there he is.”
Lux followed her gaze.
Her father approached like a force of nature, his presence commanding attention without effort. His dark silver attire bore the royal crest proudly, his posture as unyielding as ever.
And beside him—
Two familiar figures.
Lux’s smile brightened—this time, genuinely.
“My dear Luxanna,” her father greeted. “Look who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
Lux stepped forward gracefully, extending her hand first to one, then the other.
“Allow me to do formal introductions,” she said, her voice carrying just enough to claim the moment.
“This is Caitlyn Kiramman, Sheriff of Piltover,” she began, turning slightly, “and her wife and partner, Vi Kiramman.”
Polite greetings followed—measured, cordial, exactly as expected.
But beneath it—
Lux couldn’t help it.
The thought slipped in, sharp and dangerously amusing.
My parents… and my potential sister-in-law.
And none of them have the faintest idea.
Her smile held, flawless.
What would Jinx do?
The answer came far too easily.
The night had only just begun.
A waitress slowly walked toward them, silent and seamless, offering a tray of drinks and food.
She smiled as she did.
Pleasant.
Polite.
And just a touch—
Devilish.
—
Lux let the conversation wash over her, nodding at the appropriate moments, her smile measured and practiced. On the surface, she was present—engaged, attentive, every inch the perfect ambassador.
Beneath it, her thoughts drifted.
She had met Caitlyn and Vi not long after arriving in Piltover—the so-called City of Progress. They had been among the first to welcome her without expectation or pretense. Good people, both of them. Principled. Earnest. The kind who truly believed they could make things better.
Which made the truth all the more complicated.
Because Vi was Jinx’s sister.
And Lux…
Lux was in love with Jinx.
Nearly a year now—and still, the secret held.
Carefully. Deliberately.
She had learned to walk that knife’s edge. To soften Jinx’s chaos where she could, to steer it away from the innocent. In return, she offered small things—timings, patrol routes, gaps in the Wardens’ watch.
Nothing that would shatter the world.
Just enough to keep Jinx alive.
Her gaze flicked toward the two women now.
Vi stood tall, posture straighter than Lux remembered, her usual edge sanded down beneath polished formality. Caitlyn had done that—guided her, refined her, without ever breaking what made Vi her. It was… impressive.
Amusing, too.
There were still hints of Zaun in her—the way she held her shoulders, the quiet readiness in her stance—but dressed like this, wearing a Warden’s badge, she could pass for Piltover nobility.
Almost.
“It would be quite the spectacle, don’t you think, Luxanna?”
Her father’s voice pulled her back.
“Sorry?” she asked, blinking once.
“Training skirmishes,” Pieter repeated. “Sheriff Kiramman’s Wardens against our Dauntless Vanguard. A cultural exchange of arms, if you will.” His tone carried interest, calculation. “I believe it would be… enlightening to see how hextech weaponry fares in disciplined combat.”
“I’d love to knock around some of your shiny knights,” Vi said with a crooked smirk.
There it was.
A crack.
Caitlyn’s eyes slid sideways toward her, sharp and warning.
The sheriff cleared her throat, smoothing it over. “I believe we would benefit as well. The Dauntless Vanguard’s reputation is… well-earned.”
Lux stepped in smoothly.
“I will see about organizing such an event,” she said, voice poised, diplomatic. “I’m certain it would prove mutually beneficial.”
“I should think so,” Augatha interjected, her tone cutting just slightly too sharp. “Perhaps with proper guidance, Piltover might finally bring that… Undercity under control.”
A beat.
“And catch that Jinx.”
Pieter nodded faintly. “From what I’ve heard, these Zaunite barons have become quite the nuisance.”
Lux’s smile held.
Barely.
She shifted her gaze—just enough to catch Vi.
The tightening of her jaw.
The way Caitlyn’s hand moved, subtle but firm, resting against her wife’s arm.
Tension, quiet and immediate.
Before it could snap—
“Canapés?”
The interruption came like a breath of air.
A waitress stood beside them, tray balanced effortlessly, her smile pleasant—almost playful.
“Please,” she continued, “tonight’s menu is a fusion of Piltovan and Demacian cuisine.”
“I’ll have one,” Caitlyn said quickly, seizing the moment.
The others followed.
Lux reached last—but the tray was empty.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the waitress said lightly. “I’ll be sure to bring more.”
Lux waved it off. “It’s quite alright.”
“I’ll return with refreshments.”
And just like that, she was gone.
The conversation resumed, though thinner now.
Lux took the lead.
“Mother,” she said gently, “I would ask that you remember—Zaun is an independent nation, not a territory to be… controlled.”
“That is correct,” Caitlyn added, composure restored. “While the barons—and Jinx—do present challenges, much of the—”
She stopped.
Abruptly.
Her hand rose to her mouth.
Lux frowned.
It wasn’t just Caitlyn.
Vi shifted beside her, shoulders tightening. Pieter’s expression faltered, composure cracking at the edges. Even Augatha’s perfect stillness wavered.
Something was wrong.
Tears pricked at the corners of their eyes. Their breathing hitched, shallow and uneven. Lips parted as if to cool something unseen—
—or unbearable.
Vi broke first.
“I need—water,” she rasped, coughing. “What the hell was in that—?”
“My mouth—” Pieter grimaced. “It burns.”
Augatha said nothing, but her control was slipping, fingers curling tightly at her side.
“Refresh—”
The waitress had returned.
Too late.
All four of them reached for the offered glasses.
Caitlyn and Augatha sipped, restrained even in distress.
Vi and Pieter weren’t so careful—they drank deeply.
And immediately—
Regret.
They recoiled as one, faces twisting, the liquid spat back into their cups.
“Ah—! I need water, that made it worse—!” Vi choked, already moving.
Caitlyn recovered just enough to gesture sharply. “Come. All of you. We’ll… continue this later, Lux.”
They didn’t wait.
Pieter and Augatha followed, dignity abandoned for urgency.
And just like that—
Lux was alone.
Silence pressed in around her.
She blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed.
“What… was that?” she murmured.
“The canapés had Noxian death peppers,” a voice said lightly behind her, “and the drinks were Freljordian firewater.”
Lux froze.
She knew that voice.
Her heart dropped—and leapt—in the same instant.
She turned.
The waitress was already walking away.
No—not a waitress.
Lux followed.
Through the crowd, past drifting conversations and unaware laughter. The woman slipped between guests like a shadow, always just out of reach—there, then gone, then there again farther ahead.
Lux couldn’t call out.
Couldn’t risk it.
So she followed.
Faster now.
The figure turned behind a pillar near the edge of the hall, where a side door opened into the gardens beyond.
Lux rounded the corner—
—and stopped.
There she was.
Waiting.
—
“What are you doing here?”
Lux kept her voice low, but the sharp edge in it cut clean.
She closed the distance in quick, purposeful steps, heels striking the polished floor with quiet authority. Every inch of her posture screamed control—except for the flicker of irritation she couldn’t quite hide.
The waitress turned, all wide eyes and meek surprise.
“I’m sorry, Madam,” she said softly, taking a careful step back. “Is there something I can—”
“Stop.” Lux caught her arm—not rough, but firm enough to keep her from slipping away. “Whatever this is, stop it.”
“Ah—”
The sound that left the girl was soft. Breathless.
Wrong.
“Madam,” she murmured, her tone shifting, “I didn’t realize that was what you wanted…”
Her free hand rose, pressing lightly to her chest as though scandalized. She shifted beneath Lux’s grip, just enough to make it noticeable—just enough to make it worse.
Lux’s composure faltered for half a second.
“This is highly inappropriate,” the girl continued, almost demure. “I’m only a servant… and you’re so very important…”
She stepped forward.
Too close.
Lux felt it immediately—the warmth of her breath, the faint brush of fabric, the subtle, deliberate invasion of space.
Her cheeks betrayed her.
“But,” the girl whispered, voice dipping, playful and dangerous, “if you asked nicely…”
Closer still.
“I don’t think I could say no… to you.”
Lux released her as if burned, stepping back, arms crossing tightly over her chest. She forced her expression into something sharp. Controlled.
Angry.
“Stop playing, Jinx.”
The name landed between them like a blade.
“You promised me you wouldn’t come.”
The waitress blinked—once, twice.
“Jinx?” she echoed innocently.
She stepped back, smoothing her uniform, then dipped into an exaggerated, almost theatrical bow.
“Ma’am, I assure you—Jinx is not attending this evening.” She straightened, offering a polite smile. “My name is Ella Von Justamaid. A humble servant for tonight’s festivities.”
Lux stared.
Then rolled her eyes.
“Please.”
Now that she was looking—really looking—she could see it.
The disguise was meticulous.
A dark servant’s uniform, perfectly fitted. An auburn wig that concealed every trace of blue. Subtle height added—platforms, most likely. Even the face had been altered: a false nose, adjusted teeth, colored contacts.
Anyone else would have believed it.
Anyone.
But Lux saw the truth in the details.
In the way she held her weight. The rhythm of her breathing. The barely contained energy beneath the stillness.
And most of all—
The eyes.
That glint.
That chaos, barely leashed.
No disguise in the world could hide that from her.
“Fine,” Lux said, exhaling sharply. “Miss Von Justamaid… what exactly are you doing here?”
The girl broke.
A laugh slipped out—bright, real, unmistakable.
Jinx.
“I heard this place was boring,” she said, still half in character, though the mischief bled through now. “Figured I’d come fix that.”
“Jinx—” Lux stepped closer again, voice tightening. “Caitlyn is here. Vi is here. Half of the Dauntless Vanguard is here. My parents are—”
She cut herself off, jaw tightening.
“If you get caught—”
“I won’t.”
The answer came instantly.
Simple. Certain.
Jinx tilted her head, smile softening into something quieter, more intimate.
“Tonight,” she said, “I’m just a shadow.”
A step back.
“Your shadow.”
She turned, already slipping away, blending seamlessly back toward the crowd.
“Jinx—wait—”
Lux moved after her, pulse quickening.
“Just go home—”
“Luxanna?”
The voice froze her in place.
Caitlyn.
Lux turned sharply.
The sheriff was already approaching, eyes scanning, searching—until they found her.
Too close.
Too soon.
Damn it.
Lux spun back—
Gone.
No waitress. No auburn hair. No trace of her.
Only the crowd, moving as if nothing had happened at all.
“There you are,” Caitlyn said as she reached her side, her tone calm—but curious. “Were you speaking with someone?”
Lux inhaled once.
Then again.
And just like that, the mask slipped back into place.
“—No,” she said smoothly.
—
“Did you need me?” Lux asked, turning back to Caitlyn with effortless composure. “How is everyone? Did you get water?”
Her voice was steady. Measured.
Untouchable.
“Yes—we’re… better, but…” Caitlyn’s gaze drifted briefly across the room before she gestured subtly toward a quieter alcove along the edge of the hall. “Come.”
Lux followed without hesitation.
“Have you seen that waitress from earlier?” Caitlyn asked once they were out of immediate earshot. “The one who brought us the food?”
Lux’s heart stumbled.
Outwardly, she didn’t so much as blink.
“No,” she said smoothly. “I haven’t. Why?”
Caitlyn leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
“I believe she may be Jinx.”
The words struck like a stone dropped into still water—heavy, sudden, impossible to ignore.
“Jinx?” Lux echoed, quiet, controlled.
“I checked with the catering service,” Caitlyn continued. “There were no peppers listed on the ingredients. No spirits of that strength either. And… no one matches her. She wasn’t part of the staff.”
Of course she wasn’t.
Lux listened, every word tightening something in her chest. Panic flickered beneath the surface—quick, sharp, contained.
Of course Caitlyn had figured it out.
“Should we call off the event?” Lux asked. The question came quickly, almost too quickly. “If she’s here, it could become dangerous.”
Please, she thought. Shut it down.
“No.”
Caitlyn’s answer was immediate.
“Vi says something is different,” she went on. “Jinx isn’t hiding in the usual way. If she wanted attention, she would have made a spectacle by now.” Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Which means she has a reason for being here.”
Lux’s stomach dropped.
“We believe she doesn’t know we’ve identified her,” Caitlyn continued. “So we proceed as planned. Vi and I will locate her. We’ve already stationed Wardens at the exits.”
A pause.
“She’s not leaving.”
Lux nodded slowly, as if following the logic.
Inside, her thoughts spiraled.
Trapped.
Jinx was trapped.
“Alright,” Lux said, forcing calm into her voice. “Then I’ll help look for her—”
“No.”
The refusal was gentle, but firm.
“We need you to act as you normally would,” Caitlyn said. “If she suspects anything, she’ll disappear. And you have responsibilities tonight—guests, your speech.”
Lux swallowed.
Of course.
Every path closed.
“One question,” she said carefully. “Do my parents know?”
Caitlyn hesitated.
Just for a second.
“No. We thought it best to handle this… internally.”
Something in her tone didn’t sit right.
Lux’s mind flicked back to her parents’ words earlier. Their disdain. Their certainty.
“Is that because of what they said?” she asked quietly. “About Jinx… and Zaun?”
Caitlyn exhaled softly. “Partly. But mostly, we don’t want to escalate the situation by involving Demacian forces.”
A lie.
Not a clean one, either.
Lux knew her too well.
Her eyes shifted—just slightly—past Caitlyn’s shoulder.
Vi stood a short distance away, watching. Tense. Uneasy. Her hands flexed at her sides, like she was holding something back.
There it was.
Not strategy.
Not politics.
Family.
Vi wouldn’t let the Vanguard anywhere near Jinx.
Not if it meant risking her life.
“Alright,” Lux said at last. “I’ll act as normal.”
Relief flickered across Caitlyn’s face—brief, but unmistakable.
“Thank you.”
And then she was gone, moving to rejoin Vi. The two exchanged a look—quiet, understanding—before slipping into the crowd, their search already underway beneath the illusion of calm.
Lux remained where she was.
Still.
Breathing.
What are you planning, Jinx?
A hundred possibilities came to mind.
None of them reassuring.
—
The night stretched on.
Lux moved through it as expected—graceful, composed, untouchable.
A diplomat among diplomats.
Only now, there was a current beneath it all.
Something unseen.
Unpredictable.
A man cornered her with a droning lecture about tariffs on Demacian wool, his voice swelling with self-importance—until someone “accidentally” bumped into him. Champagne spilled across his pristine coat, cutting him off mid-sentence. He retreated, flustered and apologizing.
Lux didn’t miss the flicker of movement behind him.
Later, her mother returned—sharp-eyed and persistent, already listing potential suitors with clinical precision.
That conversation ended abruptly when something small and grotesque landed in her hair.
The scream that followed turned heads across the room.
Lux smoothed it over quickly, offering polite apologies, suggesting it must have come from the gardens.
She didn’t look toward the balcony.
But she felt it.
Watched.
Then came the men.
Too eager. Too insistent.
Each one bold enough to press their luck—until, one by one, their trousers slipped clean to the floor.
The resulting chaos was immediate.
Embarrassment. Laughter. Retreat.
Lux kept her composure.
Barely.
And always—
Always—
There were glimpses.
A smile, gone too quickly.
Eyes catching the light—bright, mischievous, alive.
Jinx.
Never still. Never caught.
By the time Vi or Caitlyn moved in, she was already gone—folded back into the crowd like she had never been there at all.
A shadow.
Exactly as she had promised.
Lux’s heart betrayed her each time she saw her.
A quickened beat. A flicker of warmth.
Fear—and something dangerously close to delight.
She knew it was intentional.
Jinx wanted her to see.
If she didn’t… she wouldn’t.
Their eyes met, just for a second across the room.
Lux’s expression tightened.
Stop, she mouthed.
Jinx only winked.
Lux turned away quickly—but not before the corner of her lips threatened to lift.
Her mask was cracking.
And she wasn’t sure she could stop it.
—
The moment shattered as an attendant approached her.
“Ambassador,” they said softly, a reminder more than a request.
Duty.
Lux drew a breath, letting the last traces of that private, dangerous warmth slip away. The mask returned—perfect, polished, unbreakable.
Across the hall, the crowd began to settle.
Attention shifted.
Toward the stage.
A Piltovan councilor stepped forward, voice swelling with practiced enthusiasm as he launched into a speech about trade routes, tariffs, and—most importantly—profit. Numbers dressed as progress. Applause came easily to them.
Of course it did.
Lux stood just off to the side, hands clasped neatly before her, listening without truly hearing. The words stretched on, long and self-congratulatory, until at last—
“And now,” the councilor announced, turning with a flourish, “please welcome Ambassador Luxanna Crownguard—without whom none of this would have been possible.”
Polite applause rippled through the room.
Lux stepped forward.
And the room followed her.
She didn’t need magic to command attention.
She simply did.
“Thank you, Councilor,” she began, her voice clear, poised, effortless.
“It has been three years since our alliance was formed…”
Every word was measured. Every pause deliberate. She stood the image of Demacian nobility—graceful, composed, unwavering.
“While our partnership has brought prosperity,” she continued, “its greatest achievement has not been profit…”
A shift.
Subtle, but real.
“It has been connection. Friendship. The belief that two nations—so different in history and in heart—can still choose to build something better, together.”
The crowd listened.
Captivated.
They saw sincerity. Passion. Hope.
And Lux meant every word.
But her heart—
Her heart was searching.
Her gaze drifted across the sea of faces, scanning, measuring, waiting—
—and then she found her.
Jinx stood in the center of the crowd.
Still.
Watching.
For a moment, the world narrowed.
Noise faded. Faces blurred.
There was only her.
“Our future…” Lux said—
—and faltered.
Just for a breath.
Heat rose to her cheeks.
Jinx lifted a hand, tapping lightly at the top of her own head.
Lux mirrored the motion instinctively, her fingers brushing the delicate metal nestled in her hair.
The butterfly.
Recognition flickered.
Across the room, Vi and Caitlyn caught it.
They followed Lux’s gaze.
Found Jinx.
Moved.
Jinx only smiled.
She brought her fingers to her lips—and blew Lux a kiss.
“…together is—”
Lux tried to continue, but the words caught behind the curve of her smile.
She didn’t finish.
The lights died.
Darkness swallowed the hall—
—but not completely.
A soft glow began to bloom.
At their feet.
Color.
Fluorescent and vivid—pinks, blues, yellows—spilling across the marble like living paint. Lines curved and twisted, intersecting, spiraling outward in intricate patterns that spread across the entire floor.
Guests hesitated.
Then murmured.
“What is this…?”
They shifted, stepping carefully, some crouching to inspect it. Shoes lifted, tested.
No residue.
No explanation.
Just color.
And confusion.
Vi and Caitlyn reached the spot where Jinx had stood seconds before.
Empty.
They exchanged a look.
No words needed.
They moved.
“Everyone move!” Vi’s voice cut through the uncertainty, sharp and commanding. “Clear the floor—move to the sides!”
Authority snapped into place.
The crowd responded.
Wardens and Vanguard alike began ushering people outward, carving space through the chaos.
Vi and Caitlyn circled the edges of the glowing design, trying to make sense of it—but it was too large. Too sprawling. Impossible to understand from the ground.
They needed height.
Above them—
Lux already knew.
From the podium, she could see it clearly.
Her hand rose slowly to her hair.
Understanding settled in her chest.
Caitlyn and Vi climbed onto the stage beside her, eyes widening as the shape resolved beneath them.
“A butterfly,” they said—
Together.
Two voices uncertain.
One—
Soft.
In awe.
The speakers crackled.
Then—
“Ladies and gentlemen!”
The voice rang out, bright and electric.
Familiar.
Dangerous.
Vi and Caitlyn stiffened.
“Jinx.”
“I’d ask if you’ve been having fun,” the voice continued, almost conversational, “but wow… this is boring.”
Silence fell.
Thick.
Heavy.
“So let’s fix that!”
A beat.
“10!”
Panic ignited instantly.
“9!”
The crowd fractured.
“8!”
“Move! Everyone out!” Vi’s shout tore through the rising chaos, louder than the speakers, cutting clean through fear. “Now!”
Training took over.
Wardens surged into action. Vanguard followed, forming paths, pushing the crowd toward the exits. Pieter Crownguard stepped forward, taking command with booming authority, directing the flow of people outward.
“7!”
“Vi,” Caitlyn said sharply, already moving, “find her. I’ll handle the evacuation.”
She didn’t wait for a response—dropping from the stage, disappearing into the chaos.
“Lux, help me!” Vi called, scanning desperately, searching for any trace—
But Lux had already found her.
There.
At the edge of the hall.
Half-hidden in shadow near the eastern garden doors.
Jinx.
Watching.
Waiting.
She lifted her hand—crooked a finger.
Follow me.
“6!”
“Lux!” Vi shouted again.
Lux turned, voice steady, decisive.
“Go west! I’ll check the east!”
It was enough.
Vi nodded, trusting, already moving—vanishing into the opposite corridor.
Lux didn’t hesitate.
She moved east.
Toward the shadows.
Toward Jinx.
—
Lux didn’t hesitate.
With one sharp motion, she tore the side of her dress. Fabric split cleanly against her thigh—elegance sacrificed for speed. Then she was moving, slipping through the thinning crowd with urgency, brushing past shoulders, weaving through bodies that were still caught between confusion and fear.
“5!”
The number echoed behind her.
Ahead, Wardens were beginning to converge near the eastern corridor.
“Get them out!” Lux called, her voice cutting through the chaos with practiced authority. “Now!”
They obeyed immediately, redirecting the last of the guests toward the exits.
And just like that—
She was alone.
The corridor stretched ahead, quiet in contrast to the panic behind her. At its end, the frosted glass doors shimmered faintly, lit by the chaos of colors inside.
A silhouette stood beyond them.
Waiting.
Lux’s pulse spiked.
What are you planning?
The question burned as she ran.
When she reached the doors, something lay discarded at her feet—
An auburn wig.
The disguise was gone.
“4!”
Lux burst through into the gardens.
Cool night air hit her all at once, sharp and clean, carrying the scent of flowers and damp earth. The manicured hedges formed narrow pathways, guiding her forward toward the central fountain.
A waiter’s jacket lay abandoned along the path.
And ahead—
A flash of blue.
Braids whipping as Jinx turned the corner, just out of reach.
Close.
Always just close enough.
A taunt.
Catch me.
Lux pushed harder.
Her heart hammered in her chest, adrenaline flooding her veins—too much, too fast. Anger, anticipation, something electric and impossible to name—all of it tangled together as she ran.
The wind tore past her, cooling the heat rising in her cheeks.
“3!”
She rounded the fountain, water catching moonlight in fractured reflections—
—and there.
Jinx.
Clear now. Laughing.
The sound echoed, light and wild, sending a jolt straight through Lux’s chest.
She was close.
So close.
As they ran, something stirred in the hedges.
Small shapes lifted into the air.
Mechanical butterflies.
Dozens of them.
They rose slowly, not swarming, not attacking—just… drifting. Their metal wings caught the moonlight as they ascended, each one glowing faintly, tiny cylinders clutched in their frames.
Color.
Soft at first.
Then brighter.
Lux barely registered them as she chased, her focus locked ahead.
“2!”
They broke into an open field, the hedges falling away into a wide stretch of grass beneath the open sky.
This was it.
Lux surged forward.
No hesitation.
She launched herself—
—and tackled Jinx to the ground.
They hit the grass hard, momentum carrying them into a roll, limbs tangling before finally coming to a stop.
Lux ended on top, breathless, pinning her there.
Jinx’s chest rose and fell quickly beneath her—but her grin was wide. Unapologetic.
Victorious.
“You caught me.”
“Wh—why?” Lux tried, her voice uneven, breath still catching. She meant to sound angry. Demanding.
She failed.
Something softer bled through instead.
Jinx’s eyes flicked past her.
Upward.
“And…” she said lightly, raising a hand, “…one.”
A chime rang out.
Soft.
Clear.
The first note of a song.
Lux blinked, her attention pulled away. Jinx shifted beneath her just enough to unbalance her, and Lux rolled onto the grass beside her without resistance.
They both looked up.
The sky was alive.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of mechanical butterflies drifted above them, forming a moving constellation. Their wings shimmered, their bodies glowing, each one carrying a fragment of color.
Lux’s breath caught.
Her mask—her composure, her restraint—
Gone.
Completely.
She stared upward, awe flooding every inch of her.
“How else was I supposed to get you outside?” Jinx said beside her, almost casually.
The butterflies moved in time with the music now, swaying, dancing. Each note triggered a pulse of light—pinks, blues, yellows blooming across the sky in a living kaleidoscope.
Lux didn’t look away.
She couldn’t.
The colors reflected in her eyes, mingling with the natural blue until they became something brighter. Something alive.
Jinx watched her instead.
Not the sky.
Not the show.
Just her.
Every flicker of wonder. Every shift of light across her face. The way her lips parted slightly, caught between disbelief and joy.
This—
This was the point.
Above them, the butterflies began to converge.
Drawing together.
Closer. Tighter.
Until—
A shape.
A single, massive butterfly stretched across the night sky, visible far beyond the gardens.
Beyond Piltover.
Even into Zaun.
It pulsed once.
Twice.
Brighter.
Brighter—
And then—
Boom.
Light erupted.
Not violent—beautiful.
The butterflies burst into radiant sparks, their colors cascading downward like rain made of light. Pinks, blues, yellows burning into shimmering trails that dissolved before they ever touched the ground.
A sky painted just for her.
Lux turned her head slowly, looking at Jinx as the glow fell around them.
“Why?” she asked softly.
No anger.
No accusation.
Just… wanting to understand.
Jinx blinked, like the answer was obvious.
“Hmm?” she said.
Then she smiled.
“Because it would make you smile.”
—
The last butterfly burst overhead.
Light rained down in soft gold, scattering across the garden like falling stars. For a moment, the world held its breath—suspended between brilliance and silence.
Then—
Darkness returned.
Not empty.
Just… quiet.
Jinx pushed herself up first, the fading glow tracing the edges of her silhouette. She turned, extending a hand toward Lux.
Lux hesitated only a heartbeat before taking it.
Jinx pulled her to her feet, steadying her as she rose. For once, Lux had no words. No practiced response. No careful mask to fall back on.
Only that answer, echoing softly in her mind.
To see you smile.
It had been said so simply.
So easily.
As if it explained everything.
As if it always would.
And somehow—
It did.
Lux looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Jinx, who stood there under the dimming sky like the chaos she was—wild, uncontainable—
…and somehow, impossibly, gentle.
“It actually took a while to set up,” Jinx started, as if this were all perfectly normal. She reached up, peeling away the last remnants of her disguise—the false nose, the altered teeth, the colored lenses. Piece by piece, the illusion fell away, until there was nothing left but her.
“I had to sneak the butterflies in over a few nights,” she went on, pacing a little now, energy still buzzing through her. “Timing the triggers, wiring the explosives—ugh, the wiring was a pain—”
She huffed, then grinned.
“But worth it.”
A beat.
“Also—” her grin sharpened, “Vi’s face? After she took that first bite?” She snorted. “Priceless.”
Lux let her speak.
Watched her.
Listened to the rhythm of her voice, the way excitement spilled out of her in uneven bursts.
And then—
She stepped forward.
Closed the distance.
Wrapped her arms around her.
Tight.
Jinx stilled.
Just for a second.
Surprised.
Then her arms came up in return, settling around Lux as if they had always belonged there.
“You’re impossible,” Lux murmured against her shoulder, her voice soft, warm with something deeper than exasperation. “All of this… for a smile.”
Jinx laughed.
It was quieter this time, softer—but Lux felt it all the same, the vibration of it grounding her.
They stayed like that.
Held together in the quiet aftermath.
Then Jinx pulled back just enough to look at her, her hands still resting at Lux’s waist.
“Yeah,” she said simply. “Anything for your smile.”
Lux didn’t answer.
She leaned in.
And kissed her.
Hidden behind the curve of a topiary, tucked away from the world they both belonged to—they were alone.
The kiss was soft at first.
Careful.
Then slower.
Deeper.
Something unspoken passed between them in the quiet.
When they finally pulled back, they didn’t go far. Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cool night air.
Lux let out a small, breathless laugh.
“You know,” she murmured, “you’re a terrible shadow.”
Jinx smirked. “Nah,” she said, brushing her nose lightly against Lux’s. “I’m excellent.”
A beat.
“You’re just too bright, my light.”
Lux huffed softly—then kissed her again.
Longer this time.
Warmer.
For a moment, nothing else existed.
Until—
“Luxanna!?”
The voice shattered it.
Lux stiffened, pulling back just enough to look past Jinx.
Her father.
Closer than she expected.
“Lux! Where are you?”
Another voice—Vi.
And Caitlyn, just behind her.
Reality crashed back in.
Jinx sighed softly, though there was no real disappointment in it—only inevitability.
“Well,” she said, stepping back, her fingers slipping from Lux’s grasp, “that’s my cue.”
Lux didn’t stop her.
Couldn’t.
She only watched.
Jinx turned, already moving, light on her feet as she climbed the hedge with practiced ease. At the top, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
Their eyes met one last time.
Jinx grinned.
Blew her a kiss.
Then she was gone.
Swallowed by the night.
Lux stood there, heart still racing, something warm and fragile lingering in her chest.
“Luxanna—!”
Her father reached her first, breath slightly uneven. “There you are.”
Caitlyn and Vi followed close behind, eyes sharp, searching.
“Did you find her?” Caitlyn asked.
Lux didn’t look away from where Jinx had disappeared.
Not right away.
Then, slowly, she turned back to them.
Composed.
Calm.
But smiling.
“She’s gone,” Lux said simply.
A pause.
“Just like a shadow.”
And this time—
She didn’t try to hide the smile.
The End.