a little love letter ♡

nini ~ 24 ~ they/them ~ black ~ lesbian

Lover of all things Mel, Sevika, and Ambessa. This side blog is a place to write for and discuss these characters I cannot stop thinking about.

minors, men, ableists, zionists, racists, and transphobes dni

request status: (open/closed) req rules

Sevika from Arcane

Ambessa from Arcane

Mel from Arcane

Kinktober Masterlist, My Masterlist , Child of Surprise Masterlist

AO3

other accounts: @moonlitmidnight-1

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Description: As the hunt for Jinx continues, relationships grow more complex, and Caitlyn begins to unravel. Information on accomplices of the Black Rose comes to light, and a confrontation with a familiar face turns the entire mission upside down.

Tags: Medarda!Reader, Medarda Family Drama, character study, family drama, political intrigue, Caitlyn needs grief counseling, Vi needs anger management, Jinx needs therapy, everyone needs a drink, and Sevika does not get paid enough

Word Count: 6.3k

TW: depictions of violence

strike first, ask questions later

You have never been nervous before a campaign. 

When plans are set in motion and soldiers are at the ready, you do not hesitate. This mission is no different. Despite the growing complexity of the situation and how it made your personal life more difficult, you know you can see it through. 

However, you’ll never forget the way Mel looked at you—the accusation in her eyes, the protective ferocity. Just for her to leave shortly after, to find her boy genius. You are still fuming by the end of the evening, but you know that having a clear head before entering battle was imperative. The first days of this mission would involve dismantling the Chembarons and taking advantage of chaos to hunt for their main target. 

So you spend the night in the warship, training into the late hours of the night, only to wake up early to meditate. You make a point not to join your mother for breakfast. As much as her wisdom is coveted, you are entering this of your own volition. Under the pull of your own intuition, and with your own motives. 

As you prepare a field bag of essentials—first aid, alternate weapons, sustenance, notes on the little you’ve learned of Jinx—you find Sevika’s note. Crumpled, but still legible. Your heart clenches.  

Apprehending Jinx might be a complex mission, but not impossible. Zaun is a large labyrinth that hated everything your “team” stood for in this moment, but you had the means to force answers out of them. To gain just enough knowledge to find your way to Jinx, with or without the citizens’ help. But there is one person you’d like to cross paths with, if time permits. 

You’ve devised several options of escape and subterfuge if you encounter her on this mission. You doubt it will be necessary, but based on the information Vi has provided in the written reports given to Caitlyn, Sevika is someone Jinx might have trusted once. Though she would not give much information—you could sense she’s holding back from giving what was not absolutely necessary—it was enough to give you insight. 

And to strike a mix of fear and anticipation in you. 

The morning after the strike team’s inception, you arrive at the Kiramman Manor early. You offered to go over the plans with Caitlyn early, but as you knock on the door, you’re greeted by a scowling Vi. You barely hold back a smirk. 

“Good morning, Vi. May I come in?” You question haughtily, hands clasped behind your back. Your head tilts in playful curiosity. 

“Sure. Caitlyn says we won’t be leaving for another hour. She’s still uh…having her tea.” Vi grumbles, opening the door wider. 

“That’s fine. I’d like a few moments to settle before we leave anyway. I want to ensure we’re all on the same page.” You profess, before crossing the threshold and moving past the pink-haired girl, further into the manor. It is deadly silent, save for the flipping of pages and scribbling you can hear in the sitting room. Alongside Vi’s burly footsteps. 

She crowds you, like she doesn’t trust a single move you make. And it’s greatly amusing. Before entering the room and giving away your presence to your soon-to-be leader for the day, you turn to look at her girlfriend. 

“You should stop sulking. It’s very unbecoming. I’m here to help, Vi. There’s nothing to be jealous of.” You tease, trying not to sound as smug as you feel. She sees you as the threat you are, and that is satisfying. But it could also cause complications if left unchecked. 

Vi scoffs, as if offended by the very notion. “I’m not jealous. Just suspicious. I don’t like the idea of a bunch of enforcers running around my city searching for my sister with the intel I gave them. Makes my stomach turn. On top of that… You’re a ticking time bomb, I can feel it in my gut. And as much as Caitlyn suddenly seems to trust you—I absolutely do not.” 

You laugh, loud enough to make Vi’s scowl more pronounced. To add insult to injury, you then give the woman an exaggerated sad face. “Aww, are you starting to feel guilt for ratting out your sister? You don’t trust me? You don’t like me, Vi? Good. You won’t like me when this is over. I can guarantee it. And I will continue sleeping soundly at night.” 

Vi scoffs, tries to appear unaffected.“Based on what Caitlyn said, you’re not sleeping as soundly as you like to pretend you do. You’re a mess underneath that mask.” She snarls, finally snapping back in a way you hadn’t been expecting. A scowl grows on your face, and you step closer—but Caitlyn’s presence suddenly breaks you both out of your standoff. 

“Good, you’re here. Let’s go over the plan. I’ve mapped out the hot spots for Grey implementation. I need a second opinion.” 

“Of course, Lady Kiramman. At your service.” You say, eyes still trained on Vi. Your hands clasp behind your back on instinct as you turn back into the soldier you need to be for this. She takes you into the drawing room, where maps and scribbled notes cover every available surface. 

Eliminating the Chem-Barons is a necessary evil to move about The Lanes with ease. The increasingly volatile gang war going on would only impede the mission. You spent the prior evening studying up on the recent events and dynamics to understand just what you’re walking into. 

Though you know the bare minimum about them individually, one name that sparks your interest is Madam Margot—the same contact you gained from Sevika. You’re the first to suggest hitting her warehouse to eliminate any attempts to export illicit goods or to leave opportunities for Chem-Barons to join forces as word of the Strike Team gained traction. 

But there’s one thing that grates on your mind. “I hope this isn’t overstepping.” You start an hour or so after arrival, now sitting in the drawing room with Caitlyn, Steb, and Lorcan. They watch you with thinly veiled mistrust. “But, I think the use of The Grey this early might be unwise. The undercity is in an uproar currently. Implementing The Grey would only rile them up further. We should be stealthy to avoid building suspicion too early. Going in guns blazing would leave us at a disadvantage.” 

“How so? If we weaken them all at once and find our targets, the job will be done. No need to linger. The Grey gives all the advantage we need.” Caitlyn rebuts rigorously. 

“Advantage at what cost? It’s an aggressive stance that could be useful in an active war zone—sure—but in this current climate, you’re risking too many innocent lives in the process of this pursuit. If we plan accordingly, I’m confident we can extract Jinx with minimal damage to the Undercity.” You relay, doing your best to ride the line of insistence and wisdom. 

If this were any other kind of mission, you’d veto the use of chemical warfare immediately, especially when the end goal was a single fugitive. If there was a discussion surrounding a takeover of Zaun, you’d reconsider, but this level of warfare could only spell trouble. 

Though The Grey would make interrogation and intimidation easier, you find it to be an unnecessary evil at the level Caitlyn proposes. Jinx’s attack surely emboldened the masses. Finally, a modicum of revenge against the oppressors who worsen their lives. Agitating the already shaky foundations of an unstable city. Pushing now would spark a revolution, which would only complicate things further. 

It takes hours of negotiation and barely concealed frustration to convince Caitlyn to hold off. The longer you talk, the clearer it becomes that there are far more problems than just apprehending the girl and taking down the criminals leading this undercity.

Caitlyn was hellbent on revenge.

And revenge made people blind. It made them weak to their own emotions—you would know. But at the end of the day, if her dramatic pursuits lent themselves to your vision, who were you to object? 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

The warehouse is in a dilapidated and eerily quiet part of the Lanes. Civilians know better than to venture that far, or so close to the territory of a well-known Chem-Baron. The Strike Team goes in under extended cover, after hours of planning infiltration. Caitlyn leads and, with a swift hand signal, sends you in alongside Steb to bust down a rickety window and enter the premises.

Though you’ve spoken with Steb and Lorcan during briefings, you can see in their eyes that they don’t trust this out-of-place Noxian to fulfill the plan. You can’t blame them. 

At first glance, the place doesn’t seem impressive. It holds rows and rows of concealed crates alongside workbenches and bloodied toolkits. 

You’re the first to fearlessly rip back the tarps and coverings to reveal contraband, drug paraphernalia, and brand-new leather kink gear. It made sense considering the work Margot was hailed for, but the lavish drug-laced cosmetic items and luxury wine brands you recognized from Mel’s own stash—items headed to Piltover—were the real prize. 

“What the hell is this?” Caitlyn snarls, more to herself than anyone. She looks over your shoulder as you work through the crates to discover more Piltover-specific brands with that now familiar purple glint you’ve come to recognize as Shimmer. 

“Evidence. We must arrange for the confiscation of as many of these shipments as soon as possible. But only after Margot has been apprehended.” You suggest, but in the middle of your words, you spot an unfamiliar sigil on the bottom of a crate. A calling card, glued to the bottom. 

With quick sleight of hand, you manage to pull it off and pocket it for later. It’s small, with dark red and white coloring. If you’d studied up on the important families of Piltover, maybe you’d recognize the sigil and the family it belonged to, but alas. 

You’d have to risk exposure and ask Mel for help. For now, you coordinate with Caitlyn to comb through the books left behind to find the brothel Margot calls home. 

The first raid is the most difficult. 

Madam Margot is easy to locate; her neon-laden brothel is not prepared for The Grey to flood its ventilation systems. Civilians and patrons of the seedy establishment spill out, coughing and choking on the Grey as they stumble over themselves to escape. To find relatively clean air. A feat that proves nearly impossible in this polluted city.

As Steb and Lorcan redirect The Grey to Margot’s office, you catch a glimpse of your “leader” faltering. She looks unsure, eyes flickering between her subordinates and the choking citizens. You pull Caitlyn to the side by her arm. Your eyes are hard and possess a hint of frustration. 

“Pull yourself together.” You command calmly, pulling on your own military training to force her to focus. “This is what you wanted. You’ve come this far, don’t hesitate. Trust your instincts. Madam Margot will prove valuable for questioning. If you back out now, we lose everything. You lose everything.” 

Caitlyn nods, gratitude flooding her striking blue eyes. Your calm orders bring her a sense of motivation. When the coast is clear, you slip on your mask and follow inside like a good soldier. 

Her office is on the third floor, and by the time the team arrives, she senses the attack and is prepared—brandishing a weapon as she coughs and sputters against The Grey. Her office is hit the worst, to incapacitate her to the point she’s no longer a threat. She does her best, but you dodge easily, the net is deployed, and she falls to the ground in a heap of coughs and wheezing valves. 

The office is a treasure trove for you. Not so much for the Jinx extraction, but to your delight, your personal mission seems to be making progress. As Steb and Lorcan pull her away in handcuffs, led by Caitlyn, who does her best to gain information on the remaining Chem-Baron, you dig through the desk. In a hidden drawer, you find a ledger with many useless names and appointment dates, descriptions of the business meetings—but one sticks out to you. 

The merchant Amara is marked as a supplier for Madam Margot, who signs her last name with a flourishing symbol that resembles the one on the crates. The calling card found earlier must have belonged to her. It made no sense that a Piltovian Merchant might have answers connected to the Black Rose’s lingering presence. But this is your only lead, so you take it. Though something is nagging in the back of your mind. 

It’s almost too easy. Like all the pieces are falling together. Amara’s name just so happened to be marked with the same symbol found in that warehouse. No last name, just a sigil. In some ways, it makes sense for her to conceal her identity in such a way, but it feels like these breadcrumbs were placed for you to find. 

A sense of unease takes over you as you store the information away for later.

By the time you return to the Strike Team and relay the lack of Jinx-related information, you’ve placed the worry at the back of your mind. 

The next Chem-Baron is not difficult to find. Margot tries her best not to give him up, but unfortunately for her, you’re thorough to a fault. 

Choss’s headquarters are mentioned more than once in the ledgers and notes you skimmed over. Delivering Margot to the waiting Enforcers proves annoying. As you hand her off, the nagging sensation grows. But in a different way. 

There are eyes on the team. Not just civilians, but the Undercity’s finest criminals watch with bated breath as one of their leaders is taken away—eyes burned and her breathing still shaky. You look out into the crowd, eyes scanning to find a familiar face.

You see her for a split second. Hidden beneath a poncho that is bulkier than normal, her fierce gaze blazes into your soul before she disappears into the crowds of onlookers. Lost to you once more. Your heart breaks again, and you resist every urge to follow after her. 

But you’ve got a job to do. Playing the part of a good soldier—as you have been taught since childhood—will yield more results than chasing this criminal. 

Choss is easy to apprehend. Word has spread about the raid, and though he tries to put up a fight, his feeble body gives in. His guards lost to the chemical warfare. The Grey proves to be a useful tool in making the takedown simple. He, too, is ripped from his hiding place to face consequences and questioning. 

By the time he’s in handcuffs, you know for certain you’re still being watched. The eyes burn your back, making the hairs on the back of your neck crawl.

Sooner than you’d like, paths would be intertwined, and lines would be crossed. You want nothing more than to rip yourself away from this work to find her, but the risk is too high. A small part of you hopes she finds you first, but by the time the team returns topside, you still see no trace of her. However, a flash of blue hair catches your attention. Panicked pink eyes follow your every movement. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

The next few days are rife with busy work. You and Mel barely exchange glances as you return only for show. Your needs are met on the warship, but you don’t want to abandon Mel completely. The few moments of crossing paths are better than nothing. 

You sleep on the warship to maintain your peace. The sadness in her eyes makes you feel sick, but you’ve got a job to do. 

Now that the first phase is complete, operations are moving swifter than initially planned. When the Chem-Barons are apprehended and taken to Stillwater—a place you hadn’t heard of until the briefing shortly after the successful raid—you lament the chance to interrogate them. 

But making such a move so quickly would put too much of a spotlight on your behavior. Besides, there are other things to contend with. 

You now have the information you need, and you’re now one step closer to learning more about the merchant Amara and how she could lead you to your true target. But it has to wait, at least until Jinx is apprehended. Caitlyn is adamant, growing more frustrated by the hour as her target goes unarrested. 

The strike team spends days searching various possible hiding spots, interrogating locals who happen upon them, and hunting for clues. But you come up with nothing. You have the feeling that if you’d been going at this alone, results could have been made faster—but you have no choice but to play along. However, things are coming to a head. 

“We should have used The Grey from the beginning.” She snarls in the drawing room of the Kiramman estate. It’s been turned into a strategy room of sorts, but there’s nothing strategic about this meeting. It’s pure venting, which you can’t blame Caitlyn for. “We’d have her by now, snuffed her out and into the open. Or at the very least into action.” 

“Maybe so. Or maybe the locals would have turned on us faster and made this entire endeavor more difficult. Patience is key, Lady Kiramman.” 

“Patience is getting us nowhere! I will not let her string me along until she disappears for good. She’s toying with us!” Caitlyn nearly yells, slamming her hand down on the coffee table—shaking the cup of tea you were sipping. With a scowl, you stand and look up at the tantruming noble. 

“Be that as it may, we have the upper hand. She has no idea when we’ll strike next, and our reconnaissance will bring results. We’d have even more results if you were to—

“—Don’t say it.” Caitlyn snaps. “Vi already made her stance clear; she’s not assisting us in this. As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen her in days, I…I can see how this is taking a toll on our relationship. Understandably so. But…I need results. I can’t fail.” 

A sigh falls from your lips. Though you want to remain neutral in this love spat, you realize in this moment how detrimental it is to your mission. Caitlyn is a strong-willed, intelligent young woman, but she’s in a vulnerable place in the midst of grieving. Vi was her anchor, and without her, Caitlyn was unmoored and sinking. 

You reach out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get results, I promise you…Although I think it’s unwise, I told you to trust your instincts. If you strongly feel that using The Grey will lead you down the path you wish to take…I’ll follow your lead. Just be mindful of what you’re not seeing behind the need for revenge.” You reassure, taking a chance to reach down and take her hand in yours. 

She feels the scars, just barely managing to gasp under her breath before relaxing into the comfort. You squeeze her hand just a bit. 

The Strike Team returns with a renewed objective, gas masks constantly on to hide from the onslaught of chemicals in the air. 

The first hints come in the form of dolls. Little neon painted dolls that litter the places Jinx used to frequent, allegedly. Set into traps to scare the team as they continue the search. Then scattered colorfully painted messages, crude depictions of them stalking around the Lanes. 

You chuckle and lean down to pick one up. The one meant to look like you, with dark braids splattered with red, a poor rendition of a Medarda Tunic, and eerie yellow eyes. Your mini face is twisted in a cruel smile. You crush the doll in one hand before standing.

“She just can’t help herself, can she?” You husk, partially charmed by the artistic motif. This young woman seems to have quite the style about her. But shiny shit gets shot. You’d take her down a peg soon enough. 

“Nope, she can’t. She’s got a flair for the dramatic, even as a fugitive.” A familiar but surprising voice calls. It’s Vi, in her streetwear, looking worse for wear. She must have been hiding in the shadows, trying to be unassuming as she followed along to find her sister. You scowl, but put on a good face to stop any suspicion. 

“Look who finally decided to show up.” You mutter, barely concealing the disdain in your voice. But Caitlyn pays you no mind, her eyes firmly planted on the woman before her. She stutters and trips over her words to address the pink-haired woman. 

“Vi, I—Why are you—

“Not joining the team, cupcake. I think we’ve both hit the same dead end. On purpose. If we put our heads together, we’ll find her.” 

“And then what, you obstruct justice and attack us to keep your dear sister safe?” You snap, narrowing your eyes at Vi. 

“Listen, you may not believe me, but I want her apprehended as much as anyone else. She has to be held accountable for her crimes, one way or another. My only stipulation is that you don’t harm her. She’s scrappy but… try your best.” Vi settles, her voice breaks.

For a moment, you allow yourself to feel sympathy. 

This must be how Mel feels about you. The fear in Vi’s eyes, alongside the frustration, the anguish, and the pain. Surely that’s Mel’s reality as she waits for you to return. As she wonders how far gone you really are. 

“Fine. We’ll handle her with kid gloves.” You agree, meeting in the middle for once.

Vi joins the next debrief reluctantly, going over the areas they’ve already gone over and shaking her head at suggested areas. They settle on a spot in the seedier part of town, a rundown arcade overrun with shimmer addicts and budding gangs. They don’t scatter at the sight of an obvious strike team, but they do when Caitlyn boldly brandishes The Grey. 

In the midst of the chaos, Vi catches the eye of a familiar face. She rushes up to him, interrogates him on the whereabouts of her sister, and as it turns out, he has just enough information to lead them in the right direction. A relic of a bygone era, a temple now used as a hiding spot for Jinx to avoid The Grey. 

How convenient. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Steb and Lorcan are left behind to watch the entrance to the temple at Caitlyn’s command. The ruins are beautiful, and as you venture deeper, you wonder what the place looked like centuries ago. 

On the walls are comforting depictions of Zaun’s most prominent legend—Janna, the goddess of wind. The hope she brings to Zaunites is unparalleled. It only makes sense that Jinx would find comfort in this place. 

The farther you descend, the more certain you become that the blue-haired fugitive will show herself here. As you get closer to the center of the temple, Vi grows tense. She looks you up and down before turning to Caitlyn.

“We don’t need a Noxian soldier at our backs; we can handle this just the two of us,” Vi complains, trying not to scowl at you. But she fails. 

You snort. Her disdain for you is understandable, but her timing is atrocious. 

“You’re going to need me. There’s no telling what tricks that girl has up her sleeve. She’s luring you into an obvious trap, and you want me to leave? Not happening.” You state with a cold, mocking laugh, pushing past the pink-haired girl and hitting her shoulder to make your point. 

You like Vi. She’s entertaining and headstrong, but her insistence on making this task more difficult than necessary infuriates you. In a way, you understand her. If your sister were a fugitive, you’d be hunting her down yourself and eliminating anyone who attempted to stand in your way—but that is not the case. 

“We need her expertise to ensure a smooth capture. Liya is right, Vi. We’re practically walking into a trap, and we cannot risk losing her. Not now. I wouldn’t have invited her into this team if I didn’t trust her expertise—

“—You’ve known her for a few days!” Vi interrupts, yelling as anger gets the best of her. Anger and fear. “I have no fucking idea why you trust her, but it’s obvious she’s hiding something.”

“The guilt eats you up at night, doesn’t it?” You snap, glaring at the woman. She wilts briefly under your stare, bracing for the venom falling from your lips. “You feel responsible for what she did. When you see me wince in pain—when you see Caitlyn’s suffering and drowning in her grief…You see the result of your failure to stop your precious sister. Don’t blame your shortcomings on me—” You growl, fed up with her interference and thinly veiled accusation. 

A flash of rage that flickers in Vi’s eye, telling you quickly that you’ve toed too far over the line. She lunges at you. 

Thanks to your injury limiting your range of motion, she gets a good punch in. One good hit to your jaw that sends you reeling for a moment. Pain blooms where her beefy fist lands, and you must force your body not to crumble, lest you embarrass yourself. Caitlyn gasps. Before she can move, you retaliate. 

Pure spite leads you to tackle Vi to the ground, despite the great pain it causes. Thanks to Lest’s handy work, your eyes briefly flash purple as vitality returns. Though Mel’s request for pain management proved useful, modifications had to be made for the sake of this mission. 

A rush of pure adrenaline soars through you. 

You dodge Vi’s jabs and attempts to dislodge you from atop her. She’s strong, but her uncontrolled rage makes her sloppy. Her form is clearly self-taught, leaving blind spots you exploit easily. She must have an old injury on her left side; as she guards it more fiercely than her right—a subconscious choice she regrets as you slam your fist between her ribs. 

She guards her face wisely as well, but your brutal jabs to that open side cause her to cry out in pain. The sound fuels you even more, even as she finally manages to push you off her. You land on your side with a painful thud that blinds you briefly, giving Vi enough time to lunge at you again. Her amateur attacks, as strong as they are, are no match for your training. 

Eventually, Caitlyn manages to pull you two apart. She looks both furious and exhausted, tears bud in her blue eyes. She has a hand on Vi’s chest, keeping her from moving toward you again. 

“Fucking hell, stop! This is pointless. You both look ridiculous, rolling around like a bunch of school children.” Caitlyn exclaims, exasperated with the team she’s found herself with.  

You stand and brush the dust off your tunic. Remaining as composed as possible, while Vi’s chest continues to heave with anger. 

“We have work to do, Violet. If you don’t mind leading the way, maybe we can get on with this mission so we can go our separate ways.” You growl before motioning for Vi to move. She glares, reluctantly following down into the depths of Janna’s temple. 

It is agreed upon that Vi will go first to lure her sister out into the open. Caitlyn will stay behind in a perch, preparing for any open shot. You stand in the shadows, awaiting movement to join the fray while looking out for more traps. Your dominant hand trembles with anticipation. You clutch the drakehound blades at your back and ready your body with slow, intentional breaths. 

The bright neon scrawlings on the pillars inside the chamber are eerie depictions of what must be Vi and Jinx’s childhood. Sadness fills you as you look down at the story of two broken sisters. Though Vi tries to deny that this fugitive is her sister, and convince herself that the criminal before her is nothing more than a twisted blaspheme of her memory, you see through it. 

There is clear love between them. None of you would be here otherwise; it only makes the situation all the more upsetting. Is this what Mel sees when she looks at you? She must see you in the same painful light Vi sees her baby sister.

From a distance, you see Caitlyn give the signal. She readies her shot, aiming for the head as Jinx steps out into the open. 

“I’m not gonna let you stain her memory anymore.” Vi finishes, voice pained as she lifts her fists again. Discarding any vulnerability to be ready for a fight that is inevitable. 

A chill runs down your spine as Jinx responds. Her next words feel like an echo of your own internal monologue. 

“So come stop me. Because no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to die.” She husks, her voice echoing through the temple.

Caitlyn fires, shaking you from the brief moment of understanding. You study the image of your target, as the bullet flies past Vi’s head—into a mirrored surface. Your first glimpse of Jinx. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Two long blue braids flow down her back. The girl wears tattered, vaguely styled clothing, and her eyes glimmer pink. Manic energy burns bright in them, alongside something sorrowful. She turns around to look at her sister, a gun in hand, and Vi lifts her fists in preparation—her fists now adorned with hex-tech improved gauntlets whose origins you question greatly. 

To know this girl—who looked no older than 19—was the cause of your pain was jarring. She looked like some baby-faced troublemaker, not the wanted fugitive Caitlyn dedicated every waking moment to finding. But babyfaced or not, she was going to be apprehended. Tonight. 

The sound of the bullet going off sends you into a hyperfocus. Time seems to move more slowly. At the last moment, you notice the glint of a reflection. Caitlyn’s target is a mirrored surface that shatters as the bullet pierces it. 

Echoing teasing laughter fills the space, adding to the eerie atmosphere.  In a flash, Jinx stands above a stone pillar—towering over you all with a large weapon in hand. A mini gun, for fuck’s sake. 

You rush forward, releasing your blades from the holsters on your back and moving to defend Caitlyn, as a blur of a body emerges to slam its foot into her. 

The trap has been sprung, and unfortunately, it seems you’re all playing right into her hands. When the newest attacker comes into focus, just as Caitlyn manages to dodge a bite from the odd protruding weapon on your opponent’s arm, you recognize her. 

You both seem to gasp at the same time, and against your better judgment, the blades lower slightly. 

Sevika stands before you, looking just as shocked as you feel. She opens her mouth to say something, confusion marring her features—alongside a touch of betrayal that will haunt your dreams—but gunshots pull your focus as Jinx fires at Vi, who protects herself just barely with a makeshift shield. 

Sevika takes the moment of distraction to charge at Caitlyn, slamming her new arm into the pillar, millimeters away from the other woman’s head. She rolls away, and you take the moment to strike. Apprehending Jinx is of great importance, but eliminating the bigger physical threat is the best strategic move.

So, against your heart’s desire, you elongate the blades—watching as embers of blue spark and bring them to life— before swinging gracefully and forcing Sevika to take a step back from Caitlyn. You launch a blade into the pillar beside Caitlyn’s head, separating her from Sevika to give her space. The chains attached to your vambrances pull painfully, but as Caitlyn gets up, you lock eyes with Sevika once more. 

Trying your best to communicate discreetly how much you don’t want to hurt her. But in the end, you hurt everyone you love. A sad chuckle falls from your lips. Maybe you and Jinx have something in common after all. 

Caitlyn aims again, but she won’t have time to get her shot off. You pivot on your feet and launch at Sevika again, only to watch as Cailtyn’s gun malfunctions—at the exact time your blades jump with streaks of blue and white light. They electrocute you, causing you to cry out in pain. You’d drop them if you could, but you have no choice but to hold on as the moment passes. 

Sevika’s eyes jump to you with slight concern, but she still takes her opportunity, following your line of thinking and ramming you into the wall to subdue you—her right hand wrapped loosely around your throat. A rush of arousal falls over you. The room becomes background noise as you get up close and personal with her once again. 

She’s heaving with rage and effort; the growl under her breath makes your head spin. You stare into each other’s eyes, hearts beating at the same frantic pace—you feel it in the thrum of her pulse. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. But Jinx’s rocket explodes beside you, sending you both flying once more. 

The fight rages on. As your ears ring, you do your best to break free of Sevika’s onslaught. To see her fight is a gift; she moves like she’s been fighting her entire life. There’s confidence and brutality to her style that makes you hungry. Caitlyn holds her own, but she’s quickly pulled into a headlock you must break her out of. 

But then you hear Vi cry out. Something’s truly gone wrong. Hextech has a fatal flaw none of you could have foreseen; each of your weapons— Jinx’s, even Sevika’s arm—seems to break apart. To tear from this reality. When Sevika’s arm malfunctions at the same time as Caitlyn’s gun, she falls back—groaning as the jolt leaves her scars inflamed and brighter than before. 

Caitlyn straddles her, taking the moment to get her revenge. Her weapon flashes as she holds it up against Sevika’s neck, her scars flash white and blue in time with the broken machinery in an odd display of connection.

Your back burns, and you fall to your knees briefly, but the fight must not end. Not yet. Not until Jinx is apprehended. Everything in you wants to pull Caitlyn off of Sevika, but that would only cause more questions. So you do the next best thing.

Vi and Jinx fight like mad dogs, so caught up with one another, you have a split second to interrupt—reaching out to pull one of Jinx’s braids to force her closer. If you can get your hands on her, you could end this. 

She shrieks in panic as she’s pulled off Vi with a thud. She glares at the unfamiliar face. You launch yourself at her, interrupting the family reunion to slam your knee into her chest, stealing her breath for a moment. Vi finishes it off, rejoining the fight against her frantic sister whose fists are much harder than they look— then a shot rings out. 

A finger goes flying. Vi pins Jinx to an altar that’s almost too perfectly placed. 

As you try to readjust, a new surprise enters the arena. 

A child with gold glimmering eyes who stops you in your tracks. She grabs the gun off the floor and flings herself between the sisters, blindly pointing at Vi as she shuts her eyes tight. Her head tucked into Jinx’s chest. Like she’s shielding herself from the carnage she’s about to unleash. All in the name of protecting this fugitive.

To your great shock, Caitlyn, who has a shot lined up, does not hesitate. Even Vi disengages her gauntlets, and you lower your blades as you step closer. 

But Caitlyn’s finger hovers over the trigger. You slam your weapon into the barrel of her gun, forcing it down to the ground—but not before the gun in the little girl’s hands is shot away. 

Vi jumps off the platform, eyes wide with worry. 

“She’s just a kid!” She cries out, confused and panicked.  

You look down at Sevika, who lies injured. Her eyes flare with worry. This girl means something to her. 

Caitlyn looks deranged, possesed by her grief, not wavering in her aim as she spits, “Move! She’s not getting away again!” 

“The fight is over.” You husked, out of breath but willing to fight for this innocent life. “We can make the arrest without—

She shoots again, the bullet landing on Vi’s gauntlet.

She won’t stop. Part of you can’t blame her. Grief has led her this far, and she refuses to allow it all to be in vain. Vi calls out to her, heartbroken by the betrayal and by how far her lover has fallen. You try to maneuver around them, to force the child off Jinx and to secure her safety—but Sevika beats you to it. 

She moves to switch a lever. 

In the distance, Jinx grows frantic. The distress in her voice makes it shrill—but you’re too focused on the sudden gust of wind knocking you off your feet to take in what she says. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Caitlyn and Vi go flying. It’s only by the grace of the gods that you manage to shift your weight and slam one blade into the ground for purchase.

You lock eyes with Sevika as you fight to stay in the room, despite the strong winds. She shields Jinx, and the little girl with her body like her life depends on it. Growls of effort fall from your lips as you slam the other blade into the ground to keep you steady, but it’s no use. 

Despite putting all your might into holding on, you lose your grip and go flying into a stone wall. 

Vaguely, you hear a familiar gruff voice above you, before unconsciousness takes over. 

A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! This chapter just beat my ass. I had such trouble writing this and trying to follow along with a few canon moments while inventing something new. I'm still unsure tbh, but I wanted to put this out finally. Lots went on, everyone is fighting, and now Sevika and Liya have reunited under the worst possible circumstances. The next chapter will be fun, there's a possible Sevika POV and some insight into her life and her arc. We got some hints of it in this chapter.

But I'll stop yapping, thanks for reading! See you soon 💗

Description: Mel has a long, frustrating day as a successful business owner, and needs her stay-at-home wife, Sevika, to help her let go. cw: dirty talk, spanking, daddy kink, strap-on sex, light manhandling, squirting word count: 2.5k

Mel has had a horrid day. 

When she started her luxury jewelry business all those years ago, she drastically underestimated the amount of stress and strife it would take to keep the thing afloat. 

Elora’s been in her ear all day, updating her on the delayed shipments, disputing design choices, and trying to solve issues with ethical ruby shipments from Ionia. In short, everything that could go wrong is going wrong currently. She wants to scream, to throw something and burst into tears all at the same time but her position as CEO dictated she act with more grace while on the clock.

Mel makes it back just in time to hide the mini tantrum she has in the car. The second she slams the door, she lets out a frustrated scream that is so out of character and hits the steering wheel repeatedly, and just hard enough to bruise her delicate hand. She doesn’t want to bring this back home to her loving wife, but the moment she steps in the house, Sevika can sense her frustration. The woman always manages to see right through her. 

She’s sitting on the couch, elegant reading glasses perched on her strong nose as she reads through the last of her work. She works from home at a small but lucrative marketing firm—a nice contrast to Mel’s get-up-and-go lifestyle. But she ceases working the minute she spots her wife in the hallway. 

The woman drops her work bag dramatically in the hall, huffing and puffing as she slips her heels off and leaves her jewelry in the dishes beside their front door. Sevika dips her glasses down to the tip of her strong nose to see Mel more clearly—the move turns the other woman’s insides into mush. 

“Bad day, huh?” She husks, tossing her work laptop onto the coffee table. She pats her lap, a sign for Mel to take a seat. As tempting as the offer is, Mel refuses. She’s too pent up to be so close to her wife without ruining her night with her sour mood. 

So she moves to the liquor cart sitting in the corner of their living room. As she’s pouring herself a hefty glass of expensive scotch, she replies. “Absolutely horrible. I’m seconds away from dissolving the company completely. But alas, my staff is depending on me. If I show weakness, they crumble.” She pauses for a moment, letting out a tense sigh before downing a large portion of her drink. She sheepishly looks over to her wife. “How was your day, my love? Have you eaten?” 

“Same old same old. I did eat. There’s some mango chicken curry in the fridge from that place you like…But it can wait; you need to unwind. I can see the tension all over your body, baby.” Sevika rumbles, coming to stand and move closer to her wife. 

Mel freezes as Sevika takes the glass from her hands and puts it down. Her strong hand comes up to caress her waist. “What do you need tonight? Do you need your devoted wife…or do you need Daddy to fuck you so stupid you forget about work for just a little while?” She husks, eyes low lidded as she watches for Mel’s reaction. The younger woman gulps. 

“Daddy…please, I need you.” Mel whispers, her voice shaking as she gives into her deepest desires. Sevika hums, satisfied with the choice her wife has made.This isn’t the first time she’s had to play this role to help Mel work through her frustrations. With all the stress put upon her in the business, some days she craves the release of her wife taking control from her. 

“Good girl. Go upstairs and get the harness out for me. I know just the thing to help.” 

Mel nods nervously, gulping down her anticipatory excitement. She tries to move away and follow her wife’s suggestion, but she’s yanked closer—their hips meeting in a way that makes the younger woman whimper. Sevika says nothing, but she looks Mel over like she’s searching for something—before pulling her into a hungry but brief kiss. 

By the time Mel makes it upstairs, she’s nearly trembling in excitement.

The harness is easy to find, carefully placed in the bedside drawer that holds all their toys. She picks her favorite—the classic selection, sleek and black, that leaves Sevika’s plump ass out. She places it on the bed before beginning to strip. Removing the last layers of her work persona feels like liberation. As the expensive and perfectly tailored clothes hit the floor, the frustration still rings through her body—but it’s coupled with excitement. 

She has just enough time to select her favorite dildo when she hears Sevika’s purposefully heavy footsteps coming up to meet her. She places it on their bed before gracefully sitting beside it—naked and already dripping. 

The woman comes inside, clutching the expensive scotch bottle alongside the glass Mel poured. The sleeves of her button-up are rolled up, her glasses discarded. Sevika lets out a deep chuckle. “You don’t listen very well, do you? I said pull out the harness, nothing else.” She grips Mel’s cheeks and forces the younger woman to meet her gaze. “Get on all fours and keep your eyes on the headboard.” 

Mel’s mouth opens in disbelief. “But Sevi, I—“ 

“On all fours, now, Mel. You’re already in trouble, don’t make it worse for yourself.” She growls, stepping forward and glaring at her wife. When Mel gets into position begrudingly, a small pout on her face, Sevika chuckles again. “Don’t get all pouty on me. You know how this works. Stay right there while I pick, and if you break the rules again,  I’m going to smack that pretty ass of yours with your favorite belt—so everytime you wear it you think about how good you can be for Daddy.” 

Mel shudders and tries her best not to look as she listens to Sevika move throughout the room. She first takes a sip of that scotch, then places the bottle and glass down on the nearby table with a purposeful thud. Then she opens that god-forsaken drawer and takes her sweet time selecting the perfect toy to break her wife open. She’s certainly being punished, as she’s forced to listen only as Sevika strips and puts on the harness. 

Usually, Mel loves to enjoy the view, loves watching with hungry eyes as her sculpted wife strips off her boxers and puts on the harness she sees in her dreams. But tonight she’s forced to watch their ornate wooden headboard instead—limbs trembling as she tries to force herself to listen. To be good. A moment of weakness breaks through with a frustrated growl as she glances back quickly, just in time to see Sevika lube up a familiar, deliciously long flesh-toned toy.

It’s bigger than the one Mel selected earlier. It’s one they pull out on rare occasions, only when they have a long weekend. The one Mel can feel before it’s even in her—it’s left an imprint on her insides. Even now, the mere sight of it makes her drip down onto the sheets. 

Sevika looks like a goddess, tightening the straps of her harness to ensure it’s stable, and preparing to give Mel what she’s been secretly craving since she pulled into their driveway. She can’t help the whine of desire that slips from her lips, but it gives her away. Sevika’s gaze shoots up to her, and her glare deepens. Before Mel can protest, a harsh series of swats hits her plush backside. She squeals in both pain and pleasure. 

“You want me to be rough with you tonight, don’t you? You’re so desperate for it, nasty little slut.” She spanks Mel again, just as harshly as before—and the younger woman relishes the marks she’ll surely have later. Sevika knows just how hard to go to leave behind a bruise or two on her beautifully dark skin. “Here, since you’re so desperate to get yourself off.” She spits, her hand reaching down to play in Mel’s weeping entrance, not going inside just yet. 

She teases at first, circling and playing with her wetness, dipping the tip of her finger inside before pulling it out—groaning as Mel’s sopping hole tries to suck her in. When tears of frustration bloom, she finally gives in to her own desire to feel her wife’s warmth. 

One large finger bullies its way inside, making Mel whine. Her back arches, body silently begging for more. Her big finger stretches just enough to make Mel’s head spin, curling and twisting inside in perfect movements to take her higher. But it’s not enough to satisfy her. She pushes back as Sevika thrusts, trying to entice her into giving her what she needs.  

“Daddy, pleaseeee.” Mel whines, unable to help herself. Sevika groans in response. 

“You want more? Is that it?” She growls, adding two fingers and fucking her furiously. Her bicep bulges as she skillfully curls against Mel’s G-spot, earning a wail of pleasure. Tears almost spill down her cheeks, her back arches even more as she hungrily takes what Sevika gives. Her cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the sloppy, wet noises coming from between her legs. 

She knows deep down she’s in for a long night. Sevika’s barely done more than brush past her now engorged clit, and she’s a mess. But the moment she gets close to her first orgasm, Sevika pulls her fingers out and smacks her ass again. So hard Mel tries to run from it, but she’s pulled back again. 

“If you’re already running, you’re gonna be hurtin’ in a minute. Spread for Daddy.” Sevika growls. Mel whines, grinding her face pitifully into the pillow as she tries to collect herself. “Hurry up, Mel. This is what you wanted, don’t get cold feet now.” 

She does as she’s told, spreading her cheeks and groaning as Sevika lines the toy up to press against her fluttering, wet hole. They both moan as Sevika tries to stuff the whole toy in, gripping Mel’s hips as she shallowly thrusts and stretches her open. The toy is huge, scrambling Mel’s brains as she tries to take it. But Sevika barely gives her time to adjust, fucking her harder—growling as she watches Mel’s ass ripple with every thrust. 

“Love fucking you like this, baby. You take me so well.” 

“Daddy, please! My clit, I need—” Mel struggles to beg, but Sevika only chuckles. She grips Mel’s locs and pulls her up—grabbing close to her scalp, avoiding damaging them—and sloppily kisses her neck before replying. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you, baby. Just keep taking Daddy’s dick— I’ll touch you when I feel like it.” Sevika rumbles, fucking Mel harder to keep her quiet. The toy hits the deepest, most sensitive spots inside her, forcing the tears down her cheeks. 

She tries to fuck back and meet Sevika’s thrusts, but the woman has a point to prove tonight. She lets go of Mel’s hair, holds her down and increases speed. Mel screams as Sevika pummels that sweet spot inside, making her delirious.  The smacking of their flesh is a lewd symphony that Mel will surely hear in her dreams for the rest of the month. 

With every thrust, the younger woman lets out a pitiful whine. Her clit brushes against the pillow Sevika placed below her hips on the rare occasion—only teasing her further. As if reading her mind, Sevika takes pity. Reaching her hand between Mel’s legs, and swirling her swollen clit a few times before Mel is sent over the edge. She silently screams, back arching even more as a fierce orgasm rips through her. Sevika fucks her through it, with slow, deep thrusts, until the last of it works its way through her. But Mel only has a few moments of reprieve before Sevika’s on her again. 

“Oh no, baby, you’re not done. You were huffing and puffing the minute you set foot in this house. I’m fucking the attitude out of you. Roll over.” Sevika demands, a cocky smirk on her lips. 

Mel’s brow furrows in confusion, her pretty hazel eyes filling with more tears as she obeys. Her legs fall open as Sevika comes between them, pressing a kiss to her lips and briefly caressing her tear-stained cheek. 

“You’re doing well, baby, you can take more.” She praises, kissing Mel’s cheek before lining the toy back up and digging deep inside her. Her eyes flutter closed, and a drawn-out moan leaves her lips as Sevika sets a brutal pace. 

Mel can only stare up at her wife, all tensing muscles and sweat  above her, and hold on tight. Sevika’s sweating, droplets falling onto Mel’s body as she moves. Her manicured nails dig into the woman’s bulky shoulders, leaving scratches as she lifts one of Mel’s legs onto her shoulder to get a deeper angle. Mel can feel the toy in her throat practically, every inch of her is filled with Sevika’s love and it’s dizzying. 

“Daddy, I can’t—

“—Yes, you can. You’re gonna take this dick ‘cause I said so. You can do it, baby.” Sevika assures, massaging Mel’s clit slowly with her thumb before rolling her hips. 

The only thing Mel can feel is Sevika. Her dick digs deep inside, breaking her apart with every deep thrust. Mel whimpers as another orgasm claws up her spine, blurring her vision. Sevika adds more pressure as she thumbs Mel’s clit, brow furrowed in sympathy as Mel screams and gives herself over to the pleasure once more. 

This time, to Mel’s embarrassment, wetness bursts from her, splattering over Sevika’s abs. The older woman groans, her hips stuttering as the act makes her hot. 

“You’re so perfect—fuck Mel, I’m cumming.” Sevika cries out, back arching as well as she surges one last deep thrust—tiny whimpers hiding in the back of her throat as she too succumbs to the pleasure. She grinds against the base of the toy, giving a few quick, deep thrusts to enhance her own pleasure before finally pulling out. 

They’re both panting, barely able to keep consciousness, but dutiful Sevika pulls herself together to tend to her wife. On shaky legs, she gets up to procure a warm washcloth, cleaning the swollen, sloppy mess between Mel’s thighs before cleaning off her sticky abs. 

When she’s satisfied, she manages to grab the scotch—she takes a sip, before bringing Mel close and pulling her into a heated kiss. Mel lets out a surprised noise, but follows her lead. A heated groan falls from her lips as the liquor spills down her throat and onto her body.

“Clean me up?” Sevika asks, a mischievous look burning in her grey eyes. Mel obeys immediately, leaning down to lick up both the mess she made and the delicious liquor. Sevika shudders as her tongue works over her abdomen and teases her bush. But the activities catch up to them both quickly enough, as in a flash, they both lose steam. 

Sevika collapses into Mel’s arms with a groan. “You’re gonna have to give me a back massage, I put in a lot of work.” 

“You sure did, thank you my love. I feel much better now.” 

I’m not sure if I’m requesting this in the right place so sorry if not! I was wondering if you write a princess Au with Mel? Like the reader is the stories villainesses and Mel is the adored princess, but they have a soft spot for each other! I prefer sfw but I dont mind some nsfw! So it’s Whatever you wanna do !!

Thank you either way <33

a/n: Hiii sombraswifee thank you so much! Sorry this took so long, but I really hope you love this. I found myself loving Princess Mel so much, I may have to revisit her. Thank you for the request 🥰🤍

From Sunlight to Moonshine

Mel has been waiting for this moment her entire life. Since infancy, she’s been trained in the ways of royalty, in the ways of caring for her kingdom. 

The Medarda Kingdom is a notorious matriarchy; each Queen has a legacy all her own. And today, Mel will make her way and carve her name into the throne her mother sat on for all her life.

The regal woman stands before her now, dripping in gold and diamonds—wrapped in a deep red gown. For the first time in years, her eyes are soft as she looks upon her daughter. 

“You look beautiful, Mel.” She praises with great warmth, reaching out to touch Mel’s face as she admired the beauty of her only daughter. 

Kino was adored for her party-boy ways and wise control of the merchant circles. But Mel was the kingdom’s darling. The apple of their eye. So much so that her birthday is a kingdom-wide celebration, gold and white banners with the Medarda emblem fly around the major cities and even the small hovels as villagers sing praises to their now future queen. 

She has to look the part, so Queen Ambessa commissioned a stunning white gown that accentuated her traditional tattoos.

It is layers of the finest fabric possible, with a crystal-embedded bodice and long sleeves that have been cut out to show off her arms. The coronation gown is equal parts flattering and ethereal, the perfect combination for Mel. Her locs are pulled into an intricate rose updo, and dewy gold makeup graces her pretty features. Ambessa hums with pride. 

“You are perfect. Nothing will ruin this day. Nothing.” Ambessa promises. But little does she know….not all is as it seems. 

Before leaving her chambers for the last time as the Princess of the Medarda Kingdom, the woman glances back at the balcony. A barely perceptible shadow passes over it, alongside a glitter of pure magic that is oh so familiar. Mel's heart beats faster, but she doesn’t say a word. 

Today, the villagers have somehow managed to top their devotion. The banners fly high, gold beads are strewn in the air, glittering under the sunlight as Mel graces them with her presence. She waves to as many people as she can, reaching down to shake the hands of the little children who have gathered to witness this monumental day. 

Ambessa walks behind Mel, hands clasped behind her back as she nods to her subjects. Kino and Mel’s father, King Azizi, brings up the rear, waving with elegance as the family proceeds to the throne. A servant awaits with the legendary Medarda Sword, meant to bless the new leader. Mel’s crown—specifically commissioned for her when she came of age almost 3 years ago—sits on a cushion beside it. Guards encircle the royals, all looking on with their own brand of pride. 

But none of them are ready for the burst of magic at the front gates.

You stomp inside, wearing a dress as dark as night, accented with amethyst that matches your magic-tinted eyes. You glare at the happy display and, with a single twist of your hand, send the guards flying with your magic. They cry out in fear and surprise, sliding across the floor far enough away not to be of use. 

“Hello, princess.” You spit as you sashay across the floor, towards the beacon of this cursed kingdom. “Sorry, I’m late.” 

She whispers your name and steps forward. “What are you doing here?!” 

“Am I not permitted to witness this grandiose occasion? I’m a citizen of this kingdom as well, you know, despite your attempts to drive me out. I want to see the new queen be crowned. Carry on.” You say with a mischievous grin, fluttering your hand again and sending the beloved relic of a sword into a nearby pillar. Inches away from Queen Ambessa's head.

The queen snarls and slips a weapon out of her gown. She is a formidable warrior, immune to your magic—as you’ve become painfully aware through the years. But she is not immune to her daughter’s magic.

In the blink of an eye, Mel handles the room for you. There’s a flash of gold light, and the room ceases to move. Everyone, her family included, is frozen in their place. But only for a few moments. 

“Nice trick, princess. I taught you that the first week I trained you, didn’t I? When you were still learning to control all that power of yours.” You reminisce, moving forward to stand in front of her.

Mel shivers under the intensity of your gaze, dropping her formerly lifted hand. It twitches as she holds back just barely from reaching for you. 

“You cannot be here. I…as much as I want you here, you’ve made your choice. I have a responsibility to my kingdom.” Mel whispers, her voice weak. 

“You have a responsibility to me!” You spit, half hurt, half enraged. Tears bud in both your eyes. “You made me love you. Stole my heart right from under me…I cannot stand being away from you, Mel.” You confess in a whisper, reaching for her gently, to prove you’re not out to hurt her. 

Your hand comes to rest at her slip waist, pulling her closer. When your hips are flush together—as much as they can be with the heft of your gowns—Mel gasps. 

“Please...I have to do this. I have to fulfill my purpose.” She tries.

“You have no duty to this kingdom. The only duty you have is to yourself, Mel. You’re not some prize to be won. No paragon of goodness. You’re a woman. A flesh and blood human being, with needs.” You remind her, reaching up her bodice—and enjoying the way she shivers—to caress her heaving cleavage briefly before detouring up to her pretty face.

She melts into your touch. 

The kiss comes naturally, heated and hungry as you get a taste of this precious princess you love so much.

When she came to you—an infamous fugitive mage of her kingdom, hellbent on destruction and chaos magic according to her parents— months ago in the height of her uncontrolled power, you fell instantly. And by the way she clings to you, she’s fallen just as hard. 

But today is coronation day. The day Mel pledges herself to this kingdom, to the line of men waiting to take her hand in marriage and secure an alliance. To the peasants who worship and idolize her. And most importantly...not to you. 

With one last desperate kiss, you try your best to memorize this moment. For it will most likely be your last with her. When you pull away, Mel lets out a cry of defeat. Tears fall down her cheeks. 

“I love you…” She laments, broken in a way that bruises your heart.

“I love you too, Mel. Goodbye, my darling light.” You whisper, giving her a kiss on the forehead before disappearing in a cloud of dark magic. Your magical signature remains in the room throughout the entire coronation— the perfume of lilac and blackberries—, and it haunts Mel as she leans down to accept her crown.

Her mother's eyes watch keenly, aware of the deceit but unsure just what transpired. But Mel cannot care less today. For she is Queen. She'd never questioned her future until you burst into the coronation room.

As beloved as Mel is by her loyal subjects…the one she wants the most can no longer be hers. 

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fic masterlist

Description: While you recover from the bomb that nearly stole your life, tensions grow higher. An odd invitation from a young Kiramman changes the game, as a genuine connection forges the way for breakthroughs that leave everyone stunned.

Tags: Medarda!Reader, Medarda Family Drama, character study, family drama, political intrigue, Caitlyn needs grief counseling, Mel needs a drink, Jayce needs therapy, Everyone needs therapy

Word count: 5.5k

emerging plans

The next morning is rife with tension. Mel and Ambessa circle each other like uncertain fawns, clumsily offering coffee or quiet words of reassurance as they wait for you to wake.

There is still so much left unsaid, but it is better not to unpack such unpleasantries while uncertainty remains in the air. Conveniently, they can instead focus all attention on you to avoid the lingering issues between them. 

“Thank you…for finding a way to help with her pain,” Ambessa confesses, her voice just edging on vulnerable. She hesitates before continuing. “But I am not blind. I can see the ways you’re overextending yourself. The exhaustion is plain as day on your face, Mel.” She expresses true concern dripping from her words. 

It takes Mel back. A part of her struggles with the conflict of how happy those words make her—the acknowledgement, the validation, the concern she’d dreamed of—and the reality of what she’d be doing from this point forward. The direct stance of opposition she’ll be taking against her only remaining family.

Mel is no fortune teller, but she can foresee the path toward conflict in this city as clear as day. A path that both her mother and younger sister will happily fight for. 

Once you wake, she’ll be forced to flee to the council chambers again. As Elora delivered breakfast, she delivered word of yet another emergency meeting. She knows there is no way Ambessa would allow herself not to be in the room, no matter the topic of conversation. Not after the near-death of her remaining children. 

Before Mel can reply, you appear in the kitchen, bleary-eyed but less tense, thankfully. 

Mel is quick to offer coffee and a buffet of healthy breakfast supplied by Elora only moments ago. Pastries, perfectly cooked proteins, and freshly pressed juices to aid in recovery. There is a busy day ahead. Everyone would need nutrition to forge ahead. 

“I know you’re still getting your bearings. How are you feeling?” Mel questions softly. 

“I feel…better. I’m sorry for what you saw yesterday. I—

“There is no need to apologize, child.” Ambessa interrupts gently. “We’re just glad you’re feeling better. Ready to take on the day. Elora has informed Mel of a Council Meeting this morning, an emergency yet again…I would like us to attend. Eat your fill to give you extra strength.” 

Mel shoots her mother an angry look. “While I allowed Liya to tag along for the sake of keeping her close, as we all know, that did not end well. You both will be staying out of official council business until further notice. Do you understand?” Mel states, trying her hardest to be stern. But she knows it's a fruitless endeavor. 

You are as stubborn as an ox, and Ambessa has not taken orders from anyone in most of her years on this earth. Mel is up against impossible odds. 

But she will not let them walk all over her, not in her city. 

“I will be going, with all due respect, Mel.” You say, attempting to remain diplomatic and restrained. “If Jinx did this to me, I want to hear exactly what’s being done to apprehend her and bring her to justice. And you know very well you’ll need mother’s strategic skills to iron out the details of—

“—I do not need either of you interfering in business that does not concern you.” Mel snips, trying her hardest to keep her tone light but failing. You raise an eyebrow. 

“Funny how that works…This began to involve me when I was blown into oblivion by a teenager with a weapon of mass destruction. A weapon none of your precious council were aware of until it was too late.” You snap back, voice rising as frustration mounts. You try to calm yourself, but you’ve been holding onto this for weeks now. And there is no better time than the present to release your grievances. 

“Forgive me for starting the morning off combative, Mel, but this is officially my concern. And it will be, until she’s brought to my feet in handcuffs. I’m surprised you’re not up in arms at the mere thought of such a danger going unchecked so close to your new home.” You argue, before making a plate, taking the still steaming cup of coffee, and retreating to the guest room.

Getting ready does not take long, and to your surprise, Mel does not push back again. Even as your mother prepares herself and calls upon Rictus to escort you all to the carriage once again. You shut your eyes against the sight of it and force your breath to settle as you traverse the streets. Resentment builds in your chest. For this place, for the people who innocently wander the streets unaware. These people, Mel seems to care for more than you. 

In the end, the meeting isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Plans for investigations, for memorials dedicated to the fallen—nothing you haven’t suspected already.

And that is how most meetings go, for the next few days. Unproductive sessions of brooding, where the city’s most powerful players sit on their hands as if they are powerless plebeians. Acting clueless, as if their incompetence isn’t the reason for this predicament. 

The fury and resentment within you grow brighter, and in the back of your mind, you know that once you can safely escape the supervision of your mother and sister—that girl would be yours. The weapon she crafted to kill your sister would be yours. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

When you return to the apartment, an unexpected invitation awaits. 

House Kiramman’s sigil is embossed in gold at the bottom of a letter you never expected to see. It shines like a beacon of hope on the sunlit dining table. Ambessa has returned to her warship to see to her own interests, reluctantly. And Mel has retreated to her study to tend to council matters. 

This is the first time since the attack you’re alone. Or at the very least, not surrounded by your family or a nurse of some kind. What a coincidence that your new friend would call on you at such a perfect time. 

You read the inquiry over a few times before scoffing in disbelief. This is the last thing you expected to see, but it is a welcome surprise. A sign of your progress in the city. A way out of the cloying tension in this apartment. 

An invitation to visit from Caitlyn Kiramman. A show of concern after your interaction at Cassandra’s funeral…she wishes to see how you are doing. You ponder the correct response for a few moments, plopping down on Mel’s chair—regretting it immediately when your back gives a twinge of pain. 

Deepening this connection could do wonders for your credibility in this city. Not to mention…deep down, you’re lonelier than ever. Despite the constant attention of your sister and mother, both were becoming increasingly preoccupied with their affairs: Mel with keeping Ambessa from acquiring Hextech, and Ambessa with securing allyship in the vulnerable Salo. 

Her meetings with the man were going to prove fruitful under the right circumstances, but it would take time. Time that took her away from you, in this increasingly foreign city. 

As you recover, training is off limits—and the undercity is under strict lock and key. Every day, your worry for Sevika grows, but you can do nothing about it. Nothing that wouldn’t be on the radar of your sister within minutes. So, a distraction could not hurt. 

Getting re-dressed in a more socially appropriate outfit takes longer than you’d like. 

The Kiramman family was well-versed in arms manufacturing, and older generations of the family were briefly soldiers. Women just like you, who fought for their families, though the Kirammans were ranged soldiers in stark contrast to the Medarda legacy. They would appreciate the reminder of your military status, but also a show of vulnerability. 

The set you choose is a mixture of a casual outfit and armored pieces. Dark pants and heavy boots led up to a high-neck, sleeveless tunic of mostly black, with hints of white and red. 

The tunic is partially leather in the abdomen area, almost like a corset, molding to you in a way that would protect you if needed. The vambraces on your arms are more decorative than anything, devolving into drapery that adds some flair to the tunic. The pop of silver metal in them that matches the jewelry in your hair pulls the look together.

The look is elegant, regal, but simple. Exactly what you need. 

With that reassurance fresh in your mind, you take in a deep breath and press forward. Back onto the streets of Piltover, without a single word to Mel. 

When you arrive, to your surprise, Tobias Kiramman is not the one to greet you. An overwhelmed butler takes his place and guides you to the gardens to wait for the new lady of the house. 

The Kiramman gardens are small compared to what you are used to, but you are grateful to be in nature nonetheless. The foliage of this place is foreign to you, but you so enjoy the sight of the new, blooming flowers. 

You wait on an ornate golden bench, beneath a sprawling tree whose leaves fall around you in swirls—a peaceful meeting place. The opening of the door startles you, heart racing as you try to remain calm. Looking at Caitlyn brings you back to the present. She looks better than you expected. Alarmingly thin, but the dark circles have lessened. With a clearing of her throat, she walks toward you and settles on the bench. 

“Thank you for coming.” She starts, her gaze faltering. She fiddles with her hands in a nervous gesture. “I know this was most likely an unexpected invitation. We barely know each other. But I—

The butler’s return interrupts her; he comes out with a tray of tea and offers it up. You graciously take what smells to be a mix of chamomile, green, and rooibos tea. 

“Why did you accept my invitation?” Caitlyn asks suddenly, uncertainty and distrust lingering in her eyes. She keeps the tea close, but does not drink. 

You chuckle and take a delicate sip of your tea, grace bleeding from your every movement. The taller woman is practically heaving with nerves and fearful anticipation. 

On her own property, you look more composed than she does. “I was…curious. Your invitation came at the right time, and I decided to indulge. I think I am in a unique position to assist you through this troubling time. And…you could be a friend to me in this unfamiliar city, Miss Kiramman.” Your voice takes on a hint of vulnerability. You’re not sure if it is fully pretend.

“You…forgive me for being so forward, but—you mentioned having lost a parent before…your father, if I’m remembering correctly.” She tries gently. 

“Yes, my father—Azizi Medarda. He was a brilliant man. Calm and collected at all times, unless our mother was in danger. He taught me the skill of observation and compromise…he died in front of my sister and me when I was 5. A carriage accident.” You explain, voice full of tears the longer you speak. 

You’ve been without your father for longer than you were with him—and yet his absence still bore a hole in your heart. 

“And quite recently, I lost my older brother as well. I still hear the funeral procession sometimes, the smell of the incense…so yes, I am quite familiar with grief. Losing a parent is especially brutal. I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Kiramman…there is much on your shoulders.” You say, earnest in a way that is not common for you. You want to believe that there is a part of you playing pretend. 

But in reality, this moment of understanding was genuine. Not every interaction you had in this city was a performance. You play your part well, but today you were just…Liya. Grieving younger sister and fatherless daughter who recognized the pain in Caitlyn’s eyes. 

“I’m so sorry….I cannot imagine how much pain you must feel. And seeing this funeral procession surely does not help. Thank you for supporting our family even if it’s brought you pain.” She gulps down the pleasantries for a moment, then confesses:

“There is this…hole that only grows bigger the longer she’s gone. I swear I can hear her voice in the hallways of this estate. It’s driving me mad. In all my memories, I cannot hold onto anything that would help me take the right next step. There’s so much at stake.” Caitlyn rambles, her voice growing weaker as she struggles to keep her composure. Tears fill her blue eyes. 

You take a chance and reach out to grab her hand. “You’re doing the best you can. I still had my mother when Father passed. And I was not in line to inherit her legacy. You’re doing everything you can to maintain the honor of this House. Be content in the knowledge that she would be proud of that.” 

“But…am I? Doing everything I can. Jinx remains unapprehended, and my connection to her sister only clouds my judgment. But I’m not strong enough to let her go. I can’t. Even when it’s the reason I am where I am today….even if they both are the reason my mother is dead.” 

“Don’t blame yourself or your relationship for something that is so far beyond you. While I don’t know exactly what happened that night, I do know that placing the blame on yourself isn’t fair. She would have sent that bomb regardless. And if she hadn’t done it, someone else would have. The cards were already drawn when Silco was allowed to live for as long as he did. The person responsible is the one who pulled that trigger…Jinx.” You try, for a moment, slipping into strategy as the reminder of your true purpose returned. 

As much as this heart-to-heart felt liberating—getting closer to Jinx, her weapon, and the Hextech that created it was still your goal. 

Caitlyn remains silent for a moment, and you take the opportunity to share again.

 “I went to war with my grief in hand…Every battle I fight is a reminder of the moments I failed to take action. Though I was barely a child, I still vividly remember the hopelessness of the day my father died. And it is still fresh, for my dear brother’s loss. They follow me everywhere…you don’t have to be like me, Caitlyn. You can snuff out the source of your grief. Do it, before it consumes you like it’s consumed me.” You regale, in your own way, trying to steer this woman off the path you knew was carved out for her. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

You sit in silence for a few moments before Caitlyn works up the courage to ask. 

“Do you run your own battalion of some sort? You seem quite young to be trusted with such responsibility and risk. I don’t know much of Noxian custom, but it seems irresponsible to have young leaders at such high risk at all times.” Caitlyn observes after a moment of comfortable silence. Her sudden change of subject earns a chuckle from you. 

“You’re right, you know nothing of Noxian custom. Nor do you have any insight into the Medarda way of life. The responsibilities that come with it. The danger. I am certain you have a great understanding of the position I am in, as the young daughter of a high-ranking Councilmember yourself. But the full scope of it is unknown to you. My mother led her first warband at 15. I held my first sword when I was 8. This is all I have ever known, and all I could ever want. And I am grateful.” You express, watching as her confusion grows. 

“You are grateful to be in a constant state of warfare?” 

“We are not in a constant state of warfare. We are simply…war. When situations require me to handle them, I do so. When there is a threat to my family’s interests, I will handle it no matter who is in my way. As simple as that.” You explain, that warm smile still on your face, disarming the poor girl before you. 

The last thing you want is for this woman to think of you as some warmongering freak. Even if that was the truth of who you were, beneath the human skin suit you were forced to wear in public. 

“I see.” She simply replies, thoughtful in a way that endears her to you. Caitlyn is a mystery to you. In some ways, she’s an open book. She does not hide behind the tricks and games you rely on. She simply exists. It is an oddity you find charming. “What did you do in the Undercity? Vi told me you parted ways near The Last Drop. I hope you didn’t wander inside.” 

“I may have.” You admit with a wry smile. “I enjoyed a nice tall drink and observed the local wildlife. The undercity is a curious place indeed, but I promise I didn’t get lost. Nor did I cause any real trouble. How did you end up down there? You and Vi seem…close. What kind of investigation are you leading that takes you such places?” You tease, tilting your head as you take the young woman in.

A playful smile crept onto your face as you nudge Caitlyn. The girl is so serious, but under your warm gaze, she softens just a touch. A smile twists her lips, exposing an adorable gap you hadn’t noticed until now. 

It immediately reminds you of Sevika. 

Your heart stutters for a moment as you think of her again, the woman who practically turned you inside out in one night. You can still hear her voice, sultry and husky in the most compelling way.

“I have business there. That is all I am willing to share.” Caitlyn offers, a blush growing on her face. The first bit of levity in this entire interaction. 

“Oh, please, I can keep a secret. I don’t intend on doing some sort of espionage, you know.” You joke with a giggle. 

To your surprise, the interaction devolves from a grief-ridden conversation to girl talk. It’s nice to see the ways Cailtyn speaks of Vi as if she hung the moon and stars with her bare hands—and to hear of the more positive memories of her mother. 

You even share an anecdote of your father’s memory—the nights he taught you constellations, and the secret trips to the library when you were caught skipping lessons. 

As you leave, you turn to her hesistantly. “You would do well with my expertise at your side. If what you want is to apprehend and stop this Jinx, I can assist you. Just tell me the time and place.” You offer, before honoring her with a Noxian salute—bringing your forearm to your chest and dipping your head in respect—before leaving for the afternoon. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

The weight of her well-intentioned decisions weighs heavily on Mel. 

When she earned this spot on the council, she never imagined that such turmoil and complication would be her legacy. Her responsibility. Since the moment that the bomb hit the council chambers, there has not been a single moment of peace. And she imagines there will not be any peace for a long time. 

Trying to keep this council from imploding seems near impossible. Debating the morality of enacting martial law while searching for the troubled terrorist Jinx feels like an impossible feat with her mother in the room. 

Seeing her sidle up beside Salo, using him for sympathy now that her own daughter was mysteriously not present—and she notes your absence with a hint of distress. She hopes you’re off visiting the mysterious “S” character, and not making her life a living hell. 

But alas, Mel’s beginning to come to terms with the fact that her life is in shambles. 

The door of the council chambers swings open, and in walks a determined Caitlyn Kiramman. 

She stomps into the chamber, taking the place of her deceased mother with hands slammed onto the desecrated table. In the aftermath of so much loss, Mel feared Caitlyn would fall into obscurity. What she had not been expecting was this transformation. 

Though the blue-haired young woman does not look healthy, she looks steady enough to lead the charge of her proposed next steps. There is a hardness in her gaze as she snaps at Salo, prompting a look of contemplation from Mel—and impressed consideration from Ambessa. 

The possible use of the Grey grates at Mel’s morality, but she can sense the reins have been completely snatched from her in this moment. She is not unfamiliar with chemical warfare. She’s seen the ways Noxians have won the most impossible of battles; she knows her mother has employed the tactics. But she never imagined facing it in real life. 

She tries her best to interject, tries to change the fate of the undercity, but it’s far too late. She sees that now. She can feel the trainwreck coming, no matter how she advocates against it. 

A murmur of confusion runs through the room when Caitlyn motions to the door to introduce her additional “solution”.

It takes everything in Mel to keep her jaw from dropping at the team that steps forward. Ambessa’s satisfied grin is nearly unstoppable. She holds her poker face just barely, but Mel can see the glint of pride in her eyes. It stings. 

She’s surprised not to see Vi beside her paramour. The two seem attached at the hip, but once it processes that the soldiers before the council are enforcers, her absence makes sense. 

The girl was from the Lanes; she’d be well within her rights to avoid enforcers at all costs. The presence of a pair that Caitlyn appears to trust is a given. But what nearly sends her into a heart attack is you.

Standing amongst the group, in a modified dark tunic armor set with hints of Piltovan colors, meant to honor your Noxian roots while displaying clearly who you were working with in this endeavor. 

At your hip, a pair of modified Drakehound blades sits. They shine blue and elongate with a vicious spark when each member of the strike team shows off the Hextech modifications to the Council. 

“Weren’t you among the greatly injured?” Shoola questions, eye narrowing. “To join this strike team would require you at your physical best, wouldn’t it be unwise to—

“—I have won battles in much worse conditions, I assure you. I can do this job. Besides, I have no intention of fighting. I am here to assist Councilor Kiramman in apprehending the suspect, not assassinating her. Trust in my title, my experience, and my word, Councilor.” You assure, sincerity dripping from your every word. 

Though many look uncertain of your inclusion, you both can feel the pride falling from Ambessa as she hides her satisfied smirk. 

Though you’ve not spoken of it, you know her next steps. You know your mother like the back of your hand—she can see the power vacuum coming a mile away, and she intends to act upon it. But the fact that you’ve done so first, for she sees the way Caitlyn’s eyes soften with respect as she looks upon you—it is a moment of true pride. 

Mel is fuming. She’s just barely able to control her rage and frustration, but you see the layers of understanding. 

“We’re honored to have Colonel Medarda with us. I’ll be leading the strike team, alongside trusted members of the Enforcers, with crucial information from experienced fighter Vi. She knows the target better than anyone. I can assure you all, we will not fail in this mission. And we shall do it with as little impact on the undercity as possible.” Caitlyn professes, eyes roving over the strike team with pride.

As much as Mel can see that Caitlyn believes her own words—she knows deep down that is not the case. Not with you at her heels, whispering in her ear. This will be a disaster. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Mel slams the apartment door behind her as you both return for the evening. The strike team begins their mission tomorrow, so for the night, you have plans to make the most of your evening…if it is at all possible with the way Mel fumes before you. 

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?! How dare you?” Mel growls. You raise an eyebrow at her anger. 

“Funny, you told me to make friends with the girl. I did. How was I supposed to know she’d have intentions of creating this little strike team?” You try, words half true. 

You truly hadn’t expected to be included in this search, so personally. When you offered yourself to Caitlyn, you expected maybe a consultant position at most. Not acting as her right-hand man in this expedition. Being included—your presence directly requested, alongside an offer of the exact weapon you needed most—even in your injured state, was a surprise of massive proportions. Your heart flutters at the thought of using your new Hextech weapon. 

When Caitlyn presented them to you, alongside the modified tunic—as she knew better than to expect you to wear a foreign nation’s uniform—you were surprised. You still have no idea how Jayce knew of your weapons, but you are grateful nonetheless. 

“You knew. As a matter of fact, I bet you put her up to this. You told her to use the Grey as well, didn’t you?” She accuses, taking you aback genuinely for a split second. You scoff and gently cross your arms over your chest in a defensive maneuver. 

In truth, Caitlyn’s suggestion of chemical warfare shocked you. Though you’ve heard tales of Noxian generals using it, you never thought you’d find yourself in a position to witness it in person. It was a disconcerting tool you weren’t sure was wholly necessary. 

If you had your way, you’d extract Jinx yourself and end this before things got messy. But one step at a time. The insinuation that you desired this outcome was more hurtful than you’d ever admit aloud. 

“Do you hear yourself, Mel? How is that even possible? How would I have known of it before she brought it to the table? It’s a well-kept family secret, I couldn’t have known. She didn’t consult me beforehand. You think too highly of my skillset, Mel. And you’re so hellbent on assigning me blame, you’re pulling things out of thin air.” You snarl. 

“We both know it’s not outside the realm of possibility for you. I didn’t know you were a fucking Colonel in the Noxian army—gods, Liya, what did you have to do to earn that position? What horrible atrocities did you commit to earn that title? And you’re barely 21, how—

Her tirade is cut off by the sudden timid knock at the front door. As always, something must interrupt. 

The tension between sisters pauses when, reluctantly, Elora makes her way into the apartment.

“I’m sorry to intrude. I know you asked for privacy, but you also requested I have someone keep an eye on Councilor Talis. There’s an uncommon amount of energy coming from the Academy…” She explains, unsure of whether or not she should speak. But Mel straightens up immediately, and you hold back a scowl. 

She hesitates as she moves toward the door. 

“I have business to attend to. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay here, please. We’re not done with our conversation.” She expresses, before following Elora out of the apartment. The pit in your stomach only grows, but you bite your tongue. No matter how much you want to spit your vitriol, now is not the time. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

When Mel enters the lab, the last thing she expects is the level of dread that sinks to the bottom of her stomach. There’s something in the air, something unsettling and heavy that makes her want to be sick. But the deeper she delves, the more concerned she feels. 

Jayce is entitled to his grief. Hiding in this lab, away from the deaths of his loved ones, was something he should be allowed. As disappointed as everyone was in his absence at Cassandra’s funeral, Mel understood. Grief is a tricky thing; it creeps up on you in the worst of ways, at the worst times. 

But whatever this is…it’s wrong. 

She steps inside the lab warily, making eye contact with Jayce the moment she comes into his view.

His eyes are ringed with evidence of a sleepless night. He is slightly more gaunt, more worn. Then her eyes shift to the elephant in the middle of the room. The pulsing problem that is the cause of Mel’s nausea, surely. Or is it the thought of that weapon on her sister’s hip—gleaming with that blue light so characteristic of her lover’s life’s work? Those hours of carefree bedroom fantasy seem lifetimes away now. 

Mel gasps when she sees him, her friend suspended in a warbling wall of arcane blasphemy. Viktor looks almost peaceful, if pallid. 

“What have you done?” Mel questions, stepping forward to get a better look at him. 

“I saved him…I had to try.” He says, eyes filling with tears as he looks upon his friend. 

“The hexcore, did you—

“—yes, but that’s not what you’re here to discuss, is it? The funeral…how was it?”

“Beautiful. It would have been even better if you’d attended. Caitlyn and Tobias are obviously struggling. I’m sure they would appreciate seeing you.” Mel tries, doing her best to bring him back to the compassionate and present man she’d come to love. 

The Jayce she held in her arms, the one who brought her flowers, who regaled her with stories of his good memories of the Kiramman estate…he wouldn’t have missed that funeral for the world. 

Jayce sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I know, I know. I regret not being there, but I had to make sure Viktor was stable. It’s so touch and go…at any moment he could flat line and all this work it’d be…but Liya. She was there, I heard the search parties before I left. Is she..?” He can’t even bring himself to say it. 

Mel swallows down the tiniest surge of hurt. “She’s better. Injured, but getting stronger every day. Something you should know…since you made that weapon for her.” 

“Which one?” He blearily asks, his eyes going wide as his actions seem to register. 

“The Drakehound blades…my sister is now a part of Caitlyn’s strike team against the undercity,” Mel states, holding back her frustration just barely as she notes the confusion in his eyes. He did a favor for an old friend in the midst of this experiment, went against his morals again to make these weapons. And yet he barely reacts. 

Mel is frustrated beyond belief. But she couldn’t sit with him all night. Not with so much at stake. “As a matter of fact, I need to return to her side shortly…I just wanted to warn you.” “Of what?” 

“My mother…I suspect she’ll use this as an opportunity to push for more Hextech weaponry, as was her goal all along. We’ve already discussed how imperative it is that she does not have it. I’m worried now that Liya already has it. I know grief still clouds your mind, and you have every right to it. But please——

“—I can’t involve myself anymore…not right now. I need to know he’ll make it through this. Mel, you have to understand—“ he tries to step forward, to grab her hand in reassurance as he refuses to support her. Mel is not angry, but still filled with great disappointment. 

She’ll have to fight this fight alone… even though this crusade was not hers alone. The road that led them here was not walked alone. The mistakes she made were compounded by the fervent curiosity of the men before her. Both of whom she could barely look at in this moment. 

She steps away from him and straightens her back. She is Mel Medarda. As much as she might love this man, she does not need him to save this city. To protect it from her mother. Despite the threat of unrest in the Undercity, her biggest concern is her mother’s influence. Alone, she was a beast of a strategist, but with you by her side…Fear curdles in Mel’s belly. 

And as she walks away from Jayce, taking one last glance back at her lover and her friend—whose pallid face brings a tear to her eye—Mel vows to keep them safe. In any way, she has to. 

a/n: This chapter was so hard. I debated various versions of it, but this is what I finally settled on sharing. ISo nervous to release this bc it sets the tone for the rest of this arc and hits some controversial topics for season 2's plot.

In full transparency first: I didn't care about the Jayce/Viktor storyline. During my initial watch, I blacked out through most of their scenes, eagerly waiting for Ambessa to return to my screen, so the intricacies of their relationship are lost on me outside of the research I've done. But this is my interpretation of the story. Feel free to leave constructive ideas and feedback about them if you feel compelled to.

Also: Caitlyn's use of the Grey and the subsequent Vi enforcer arc was hard for me. In this story, Vi refuses to join the enforcer strike team for obvious reasons...but she'll attempt to make good on the wreckage Jinx has left behind in her own way. We'll see if Liya can adjust the grey usage just a bit to stop the unnecessary agitation of the undercity..but what will that change? If anything?...

Sorry it's been so long. I look forward to seeing what y'all have to say. I'm attempting to make the chapters easier to find, so bare with me if the look of this changes lmao I'll happily take asks about this story if anyone cares. I might end up yapping into the ether in a separate post just to sift through my feelings who knows. See you soon 💞

a/n: Hi anon, thanks for the prompt! I've never written winged!reader before, but it was fun to imagine. Hope this fits what you were looking for ☺️

winged!reader x mel

༊*·˚ You first meet through Lest for a one-off consultation. A series of bank robberies takes place in Piltover after the war, featuring a unique strategy—ear-piercing songs that incapacitate the guards in seconds. You’re the first person she thinks to call. 

༊*·˚ You enter the council chambers reluctantly, having lived a quiet life in Piltover since being given sanctuary. Rocking the boat could be risky, but you owe Lest this favor. 

༊*·˚ The minute she spots you, Mel’s heart jumps. You look like an angel, though you hide your wings beneath a specially crafted cloak. Someone like you attracts the wrong attention when your wings are on display, but in this chamber, you are safe. 

༊*·˚ Mel barely holds back a gasp when you sit, and release the cloak from your shoulders—your white and gold wings shimmering in the light as they stretch out behind the chair, before folding tightly at your side with a nervous flutter.  

༊*·˚ She holds her questions until after the meeting, where you’ve secured proper defenses against the songs stealing from Piltover banks. You watch the usually graceful woman be stumped for the first time in her life. So you hang back and give her a chance to compose herself. 

༊*·˚ “I’m sorry for staring.” She says sheepishly. Her first words directly to you. She shies from your amused gaze before continuing. “I’ve just never seen someone like you before. I’ve seen a lot of things, but not an angel walking among us.” You chuckle. “Cute. Very cute, Miss Medarda. But I am no angel. I can perform magic and miracles to rival them, but I am no saint.” You give her your name. 

༊*·˚ Your relationship develops slowly, as you’re cautious of getting so close to a high-profile figure. But Mel is irresistible.

༊*·˚ She asks about your past, the life you led before landing in Piltover. She does not push when painful memories consume you. 

༊*·˚ She encourages you to speak of your culture, the nearly extinct bird vastaya clan you were born from, and the life you fled from in Ionia. You share nostalgic stories about your homes and the people you lost there. Bonding over the constant homesickness.

༊*·˚ The first time you let your wings breathe around her, Mel is stunned to silence. On the couch of her lavish apartment, you trust her to witness you in your full form. She watches with keen interest as you unfurl them from the cloak and cast the thing aside.

༊*·˚ Your wings are large, majestic as they span the couch and beyond her. You stretch, a side effect of long-term confinement, causing the light to bounce off the gold tips in a wondrous display. Bird-like wings that twitch and shudder in reaction to your emotions as you read alongside her. She's mesmerized.

༊*·˚And then you take it a step further.  “You can touch them. Just the top parts….for now. The underside is quite sensitive.” You confess with a blush. Her delicate hands are so gentle as she caresses your large wings, relishing the ripples of pleasure when she hits the right spots. Trailing her fingers down the hues of whites and gold that enchant her. “Thank you, love, this is a privilege I’ll never take for granted,” Mel promises.

༊*·˚ Her apartment slowly but surely becomes a haven. Your feathers find their way into every nook and cranny of her home. Mel is secretly delighted. 

༊*·˚ When you molt for the first time around Mel, she nearly has a conniption. The discomfort is maddening, but through every moment she’s there to help you remove those old feathers, whilst secretly storing them for later. 

༊*·˚ Mel ends up with a collection beneath her bed, alongside trinkets from her childhood sit a box of your finest feathers. You clown her for it when you finally move in, and in an effort to hide your own keepsakes, stumble across the horde.

༊*·˚ When you share a bed for the first time, a problem develops: no matter how tightly you pull your wings to your side, they end up splayed across the bed the moment you fall asleep. Pushing the covers, flopping over Mel, and causing a host of issues she laughs off.

༊*·˚ It's a miracle Mel has such a large space, as you encounter quite the challenge cohabitating.

༊*·˚ Your wings nearly knock her over. If you're unaware, walking through the apartment with a snack or on a mission to find your misplaced book, you hear her squeal of surprise as wings smack across her face or smack her into something. You apologize profusely and snatch them back, but she coaxes them out once more.

༊*·˚ Many times they knock off buckets of paint during your mid-paint session cuddles, but the goddess of a woman doesn't mind. Mel simply smiles and holds you closer.

༊*·˚ On her birthday, you allow her to paint your feathers with washable paint as a treat. She chooses a series of sunset hues that she masterfully applies. Your eyes widen with wonder every time you look in the mirror.

a/n: Hiii thank you so much for liking my work and giving this prompt! It was so fun, I had a blast trying to navigate this threesome. I’m a little rusty in the smut department but I hope this lives up to what you had in mind!! ♡

Attention

You cherish this arrangement with your partners. At 7:00 pm, you clock out of work—exhausted and wrung dry—and by 7:10, you’re in a private car on the way to their apartment. Giddiness courses through you throughout the entire ride.

Working a full time job on top of getting your master’s degree is a challenge, but the reprieve you get with your lovers is everything.

As you enter, the warm light of the space, coupled with the delicious scent of your favorite candle, makes you smile instantly.

You find your lovers on the couch. Ambessa rests in Sevika’s arms, sipping a glass of fancy red wine as she watches her cooking show. Sevika sips brown liquor slowly, though she puts it down the moment the pair spot you in the doorway. Smiles light up both their faces.

“Hey there, pretty girl. How was your day?” Sevika questions as Ambessa sits up and opens her arms to you. You fall into them easily, letting out a sigh of relief as you cuddle into Ambessa’s warm embrace. Sevika reaches to play with your hair and caress your cheek.

“It was gross. But it’s over now, thank you for letting me come over, ‘bessa. And thank you for being here, ‘vika. Missed you both. ” You murmur into her chest.

“We figured you’d be tired, so we already set up a hot bath.” Ambessa offers, as Sevika massages your scalp. You groan in pleasure, and smile up at them.

“You know me so well, thank you both.” You profess, reaching up to press kisses to each of their lips.

Ambessa sits up with you in her arms and lifting you into a bridal position that has you squealing. Sevika smiles down at you, pressing a series of sweet kisses to your cheek before following into the bedroom at Ambessa’s side. As Sevika helps you undress, Ambessa has the grace to bring you a freshly made cocktail alongside the candle you love so much.

You relax in the warmth of the obscenely large bathtub until you’re practically pruned. A satisfied smile climbs on your face as you listen to the murmur of conversation in the bedroom. They’re waiting for you.

And by the time you’ve tiptoed out of the bathroom, moisturized and wrapped up in one of Ambessa’s plush bathrobes, you come out to quite the surprise.

Ambessa and Sevika lay on the large, expensive bed that is decked out with extra pillows and sheets more expensive than you could even fathom.

They’re in sleepwear—Ambessa in the most tempting red slip dress that shows off her shape, and Sevika in a pair of boxers and a tight tank top. There’s a sliver of skin that’s accessible, just a hint of her abs and happy trail. It makes your mouth water.

You gulp at the sight of them together, their joint beauty overwhelming. And when they set their eyes on you, cowering in an oversized bathrobe, you feel in your gut that tonight’s the night.

You've been together several weeks, but your inexperience, coupled with their immense restraint, means no lines have been crossed. Not until you instigated. They wanted to make sure you were ready. But tonight, the hunger within you is overwhelming. And they can smell it.

“Come closer, sweet thing, we won’t bite,” Sevika says, sitting up and beckoning you closer as Ambessa chuckles.

“Not unless you ask us to.” She remarks as you come to climb up onto the bed. You sit on your knees, fingers anxiously twisting the tie of the robe.

"I...I want to...fuck this is harder than I thought. I just—" You struggle to articulate. But Ambessa saves you, catching on as soon as your mouth opens.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” Ambessa continues, reaching out to take your trembling hand. “We just want to make you feel good.”

“If at any point you want us to stop, we will. Tonight is all about you.” Sevika assures, her hand coming up to touch your cheek once more. Like she’s reminding you she’s here, grounding you in the moment.

The combination of their touch is enough to settle you. Arousal courses through you as you crawl forward. The wetness dripping down your thighs serves as a pleasant distraction.

You press a desperate kiss to Sevika's lips, gripping her strong shoulders, and allowing Ambessa bring the robe down your shoulders. She trails kisses down from your neck and to your back. One hand caresses your soft skin, the other comes to rest on your lower belly.

You tremble at the teasing touch of her fingers, grazing your untrimmed pubic hair—reminding you she has yet to stake her claim.

“Touch me. Please.” You practically beg, before Ambessa shushes you with a gentle kiss. Her lips taste of red wine and heat.

"Soon, sweet girl. But we have to warm you up. Don't want to break you now." She chuckles.

Sevika’s eager hands caress your upper half, surprising you by circling the meat of your breast. Inching closer and closer to your hard nipple. You whimper into Ambessa's mouth the moment Sevika flicks it with her thumb, making you weak.

The pleasure of the unfamiliar touch makes your hips jump. Then she pinches. You whine gripping Ambessa's thick thigh to keep yourself steady.

Sevika coos. "You make the prettiest noises, baby. Just as I imagined." She murmurs, before dipping her head and taking it in her mouth.

Ambessa muffles your moan with her lips again, smiling into the kiss as your eyes flutter. Sevika's got a wicked tongue on her, but feeling it on your skin, playing with your nipple, devastatingly short-circuits your brain.

While she plays, going between both nipples when she feels one has had enough attention, Ambessa makes the bold move of dipping her hand lower. Your hips squirm as she inches closer to your wet heat, and when she rubs two fingers to your entrance—teasing without entering, playing with the wetness she finds in slow, agonizing circles that can be heard around the room—you nearly cum on the spot.

Her fingers are larger than yours, as are Sevika's, and it hadn't occurred to you until now that the nights spent fucking yourself to thoughts of them wouldn't compare in the slightest to the stretch of them in real life.

Both women chuckle and pull away to give you a moment. Tears bud at the corners of your eyes.

"Sweet thing, we've barely even started, and you're already worked up. Here, get comfortable. We'll take care of you, promise." Sevika rumbles, sharing a look with the other woman over your head. Before you can question, you're lying back in Ambessa's arms, legs bracketing her as she spreads, while Sevika kneels between them.

Ambessa's full lips press against your ear, whispering words of encouragement as Sevika gets comfortable, hungry eyes trained between your thighs.

"You've got such a pretty pussy, baby. Can I kiss it?" She asks, and you nod, hips arching in desperation for some sort of friction.

"Please, 'vika, I'm gonna die if you don't touch me soon. I need your mouth." You whimper, earning a sympathetic pout from your lover.

Ambessa's hand trails down your chest again, this time detouring to play with your nipples at the exact moment Sevika presses a kiss to your clit. A desperate whine falls from your lips, and Ambessa immediately soothes you.

"We're right here, sweet girl, let it out." She says, pinching and twisting your nipples in time with the strokes of Sevika's tongue.

You could cry at how delicious her touch is. She knows how to use her mouth to make your vision blur, flicking her tongue against your swollen clit, then sucking you into her mouth in perfect rhythm. A single finger swirls at your entrance, pressing gently to prepare you properly. You buck toward it, eager for more, but she denies you.

Ambessa remains steady in her support, playing with your sensitive nipples while taking the occasional break to ensure you're not overwhelmed. But no matter how careful either of them is, you can feel the tears streaming down your cheeks as an orgasm claws up your spine.

Your hips move against Sevika's mouth as you climb higher and higher. Whimpers and moans falling from your lips, you’re practically fucking yourself against her tongue in an embarrassing display. She dips it inside, curling up just enough to siphon a sob out of you. Then Ambessa does something wicked. She reaches down and circles your throbbing nub with her ring and middle finger.

A gentle touch that sends you careening over the edge with a series of broken moans.

"You're so sensitive, sweetheart. The smallest touch makes you go crazy. I love it." Ambessa rumbles, just as Sevika holds your hips down to keep you steady.

The first orgasm is only an appetizer, as the moment you're relaxed enough, Sevika tests the limit and slips one thick finger into your still pulsing cunt. Your back arches, you struggle against Sevika's grip as you try to both force her deeper and push her away.

"You're alright. Keep taking it like a good girl, I promise it'll feel so good. Sevika's great with her hands...but not as good as I am." Ambessa promises, her hand coming up to grasp your throat in a possessive move that thrills you. "When it's my turn, I promise I'll spend all day working you open. But for now, be good for Sevika. Keep taking her fingers, pretty girl."

You do your best, relaxing into your lover's touch as she begins to stretch open your tight hole. She's gentle at first, but the more you blossom, the harder she fucks you. Her thick finger hits all the right spots, and it doesn't take long for another orgasm to slide up your spine.

Helpless moans fall from you, as another finger slides in to your shock and pleasure. Ambessa holds you still and has the nerve to lick her fingers with a grin before rubbing your swollen, slightly protruding clit again, heightening your pleasure.

Sevika curls her fingers just right, at the perfect moment as Ambessa adds pressure, and you scream.

Creaming around Sevika's thick fingers, and arching your back against the onslaught of pleasure. Sevika and Ambessa move in tandem, working you up to another orgasm that has you sobbing. Sevika bullies your g-spot like it's her job, and despite the way you thrash in her arms, Ambessa keeps up her touch, driving you to insanity. Throughout it all grounding you with her grip.

They eventually let you breathe, murmuring soft words of encouragement and praise as you catch your breath. Sevika cuddles up to your side, and Ambessa holds you close pressing a kiss to the sweaty crown of your head.

"You did so good sweet girl. We’ll get you some water before round 2.”

Could you do a drabble/fic on ambessa going to piltover and leaving the reader behind. ambessa promises she will return even after the reader tells her not to go, to stay. ambessa doesnt make it back...

tysm ^^

a/n: Hiii, I'm so happy to see this request, love representing. I hope this is along the lines of what you were looking for 😚♡

In the Late of the Night

She informs you under the cover of darkness, wrapped up in your marital bed. Your safe place. She shatters it with her words. 

“I’m going to Piltover…to visit Mel,” Ambessa says, her warm voice nothing more than a whisper above you. She holds you in her arms, and when you tense, she tightens her grip. You can tell by her hesitation that she is lying in some capacity. That something about her statement is untrue. But you’re too stunned to challenge her. 

You made a vow, the night of your wedding, to never lie to one another. To share your deepest, darkest secrets and bear the consequences. Her lack of transparency scares the living daylights out of you. 

“When do we leave?” You whisper in reply, a hint of frustration lacing your voice. You don’t like the last-minute plans. 

It has been a disruptive few years already, with tensions growing in Noxus and Kino’s disappearance. You can’t take much more. But you want to meet Mel. You want to see her in person after so long. However, all hopes of that are dashed by Ambessa’s next words. 

“We are not going anywhere, my love. I’m making this journey alone.” Ambessa replies, wincing when you sit up out of her grip suddenly.  

The silken sheets slip down your bare back, revealing enough skin to distract your usually eager wife. But for once, she keeps her hands to herself as you glare down at her. 

“What are you planning?!” Though you know deep down that if she’s telling now, she’s already planned every meticulous detail of this endeavor. The wheels are already in motion, you’re just the last to know.

“You know I can’t tell you. I have business to attend to that will keep me away for a long time. It is dangerous work; I cannot risk your well-being.” Ambessa replies, trying to placate your growing anger. But she only makes it worse. 

“My well-being. What the hell could be so dangerous in Piltover of all places? You sent Mel there for a reason. What are you planning on doing?! For the gods' sake, Ambessa. I'm your wife, you cannot leave me in the dark!” You snarl, not bothering to contain your volume. The servants know to steer clear of your quarters unless explicitly summoned. 

“Don’t force my hand. Please.” Ambessa practically begs, her expressive eyes filling with sadness. She sits up with you still in her lap, grasping your waist with one hand and pressing a hand to your cheek with another. “You know I can’t tell you. All I can say is that I’m trying to right a wrong I should have amended years ago. Things have spiraled out of control…I will not put you in jeopardy. I won’t.” 

“But you’ll abandon me here to wonder day in and day out what you’re doing. You’ll leave me to find out about your exploits through your letters, through Rictus, or worse, through rumor?” You snarl, shooting up from the bed to pace. Your hands tremble. 

A horrible feeling settles in your gut. A warning of something you can’t even begin to understand.

“You can’t go.” You say in an explosion of emotion, voice wobbling. Ambessa sighs and stands to join you. Her strong, bare figure is illuminated by the moonlight, drawing you in. Her beauty makes you weak in the knees, but you can’t give in to her. Not right now.

“Love I—

“—NO. No Ambessa. I forbid it. You don't get to go off and do something horrible, leaving me here to pray you’re still alive. Unless you take me with you, I’ll…I’ll…” You lose steam halfway through, visibly deflating as the fight leaves you. 

You can’t think of what to say because no threat you make will stop Ambessa once her plans are set in motion. Once she’s set her sights on something. Your eyes fill with tears, and you rush into the bathroom to hide, walking away from her outstretched hand. 

That night, you sleep far apart, tears stream down both your faces as the inevitability of her absence sets in. 

Life in Noxus leading up to her departure is tense.

You go about your duties, tending to the Medarda Clan’s affairs as best you can–while worry threatens to swallow you whole.

You barely talk, barely touch each other—but the moment she steps toward that warship, regret rocks you. 

Tears fall down your cheeks, and you rush to your wife’s side. 

“Please don’t go.” You whisper, holding her arm and pulling—praying she’ll finally listen to you. Even though you know it’s impossible. 

Her voice breaks as she placates you. “My love, I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Don’t go, Ambessa, please. Stay here with me. Be here with me instead of fighting for something pointless. Invite Mel home and put down your weapons for once. Please, my darling.” You cry, reaching up to grab her pretty face as gently as you can. 

You press a desperate kiss to her lips—they tremble against yours, as Ambessa fights her instinct. Fights against the sadness brewing in her chest. 

“I can’t, my love. I can’t…I have to do this. But I’ll return to your side. I promise you.” 

“You swear.” You say through tears, looking up at her with a host of emotion swimming in your eyes. You meet her soulful gaze as she nods. 

“I swear. I’ll be back in your arms when this is over. No matter what.” Her warm voice falls over you, comforting you for a brief moment. She kisses you deeply, once, twice, three times, as if sealing her love within you. Before she turns away and enters the warship. 

Little do you know that will be the last time you see your loving wife. The last memory of her you'll cling to for years to come.

Nearly a year later, after monthly correspondence and updates that become progressively less frequent, a ship bearing Medarda colors comes to the docks. 

But it is not Ambessa who steps off it. 

It’s Mel. Her eyes haunted, cheeks tear-stained as she walks off the warship, every bit as regal as her mother. She can barely look at you as she presents a familiar mask. 

One you see in your dreams. It glints in the sunlight, just as your lovely wife once did. You’ve watched her don that mask alongside her armor more times than you can count. The slash across the face makes your lungs seize. 

You fall to your knees, clutching her lion mask—sobs echoing through the streets as the reality of the situation finally sets in. The reality of a loss you haven’t even begun to process. 

Ambessa is never coming home. Your wife, the love of your life, your safe place in this world…is never going to be in your arms again. 

Your heart shatters. 

As I'm writing the next few chapters of my multi-chapter fic, I realized we hit 400 followers on this blog!

I'm shocked and so very grateful. Starting this was something I did on pure whim and it’s become such a fun experience sharing my love for these pixel women.

I'm so glad that 400 of y'all like this space enough to keep up with it! In honor of that milestone, I'm not sure what else to do but officially open up requests. They'll be open from now until the end of the month.

Minors DNI.

SFW is welcome, NSFW is also welcome, but please see the req rules before you request anything.

Preferably Ambessa, Sevika, or Mel focused, but I'll write for Vi, Caitlyn, and Grayson

I look forward to your requests ♡

REQUEST RULES

This blog is focused on fluff and lesbian smut fics centering Sevika, Ambessa and Mel. Men and Minors DNI, you will be blocked.

☼⡱ what I write: SFW, NSFW fics focused on Ambessa Medarda, Sevika and Mel Medarda. I can write for Vi, Caitlyn & Grayson if the prompt is particularly inspiring.

╰┈➤ characters:

☼⡱ Ambessa: Ambessa x Reader, Ambessa x Sevika, Ambessa x Reader x Sevika ☼⡱ Sevika: Sevika x Reader, Sevika x Ambessa, Sevika x Mel ☼⡱ Mel: Mel x Reader, Mel x Sevika, Mel x Lest

╰┈➤ what I will write:

☼⡱ SFW: fluff, domestic fluff, headcanons, imagines, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort ☼⡱ NSFW: I'm open to a-lot as long as its lesbian sex. strap-on sex, g!p in moderation, exhibitionism, bdsm, bondage, daddy kink, fem reader, gn/gnc reader

╰┈➤ hard nos

☼⡱ racist or abusive depictions of characters ☼⡱ age play, excessive age gaps, pedophilia, incest, non-con ☼⡱ gore, foot fetish, piss play or scat play

Please do not request anything outside these boundaries or for characters not listed on this page. Your request will be deleted and your account possibly blocked ♡

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fic masterlist

Description: A strange turn of events transforms what is supposed to be a reconciliatory dinner into a night of trauma and turmoil.

Tags: Sevika x Reader, slowburn, enemies to lovers, Medarda!Reader, Medarda Family Drama, character study, family drama, political intrigue

Wordcount: 5.2k

TW: aftermath of violence, descriptions of injury

boom!

When you return to Mel’s apartment, Elora is the only person waiting. The back-and-forth of the last 24 hours has been exhausting, but you snap into focus at the look on her face. She is greatly concerned, wringing her hands in nervousness. 

“What happened?” You question, eyes darting over the apartment for any signs of trouble. 

“There’s been another emergency meeting regarding the Council. Mel has to reschedule the dinner. I’ve already sent someone to speak with your mother. If you’d like, I can call for dinner, and you can rest in the guest room until the meeting adjourns.” She offers, though it’s clear she knows what your answer will be. 

“No, I’m going. I’ll only be a moment dressing.” You state, moving to enter the room you’ve claimed as your own. Dirt and Sevika’s dried blood still stain your clothing. There is no way you’re showing up to the council like this, and Mel cannot go alone. Staying up to date with the council’s status was imperative, and these consecutive emergency meetings were a great cause for concern. Despite your upset with her, the overall mission of this trip took precedence over your comfort. 

“No! I have a horrible feeling, you must not—“ Elora practically begs, her normally composed demeanor breaking for a moment. But you’re taken aback. 

“No?” You question, freezing and whipping around to assess Elora once more. A quiet fury fills your voice. You like Elora—you are in her debt for keeping Mel safe and sane since the moment they met—but insubordination was something you could not afford. 

“You must have me mistaken for my sister, Elora.” You take a step forward. “Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Liya Medarda. I do not answer to you or anyone.” You snarl, eyes cold as steel, as you meet her gaze. After a moment, you spin back around to continue your journey. A twinge of regret fills you as you hear her sniffle, but there is no time to amend your statement. 

Getting dressed in a Medarda standard tunic and boots doesn’t take long, and you’re back out the door in record time. Elora’s insubordination would be noted for later. No matter her feelings, you had a job to do and a place to be. Mel’s side. 

A horrible wave of nausea crawls up your chest the closer you get to the tower. The trek up to the chambers is fraught with an unbidden type of fear. Something is wrong. You were certain of it. Boots clatter faster, your breathing hastens as you run to reach her. By the time you arrive and slip inside, nearly silent, there is a vote taking place.

You take your position behind Mel, hands clasped behind your back, and take note of her spot beside Jayce with an eye roll. Irritation pauses at the sight of a third party. What is out of place is the thin, brown-haired man with leg braces beside the boy genius. Although you weren’t present for what led up to this vote, you had a strong sense that something steep was on the line. 

The vote begins with a dramatic spotlight on the first to raise their hand; it moves around the room, and when Cassandra Kiramman raises her hand, a frisson of dread runs through you. Something’s wrong. It chimes through you like a mantra, your eyes dart around the room once more searching for any sign to validate your feelings. 

Mel raises her hand, and as the spotlight shines down on her, another buzzing, bright light seems to cover her. She furrows her brow and seems to sense a presence as she turns to look over her shoulder. 

Her eyes go wide, your heart skips a beat at the sight, glittering gold fills your vision, your back burns—

Then everything goes dark. Pain flares through you, and the world falls to silence with one last earth-shattering bang. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Ambessa Medarda has felt fear before. She felt it the day her son went missing, the day her husband died, the day her grandfather—the only real mentor, parent, or guide she’d ever had—died under false pretenses. That day on the beaches of Rokrund when she saw her fate, belly full with a child she loved so fiercely. Where she met Kindred—that was a primal fear close to this. 

But she has never quite felt such a fear as she felt the moment the chamber was hit. 

She was enjoying a quiet dinner at a restaurant in Piltover, attempting to plan with Rictus as she waited for her daughters to arrive—when the noise resounded through the city. A definitive boom that would haunt her nightmares for years to come. The ostentatious tower was so recognizable that it took only seconds for Ambessa to put the pieces together. 

Mel and Liya were late. Mel was engaging as a Council Member often, quite noticeably in emergency capacities. Liya is working to secure connections to Hextech, connections best fostered in that Council room. 

They were both late. 

She’s on her feet before she can think. Rictus gets the gist quickly and pays the bill with a wad of cash before following after her. The restaurant Ambessa selected was relatively close to the Council Chamber tower to be considerate. To be compassionate. And now she thanked her intuition because the few minutes it takes to run toward the tower are hell. But it could have been worse. 

She enters the smoking chamber, dread filling her every cell. Behind her, the Wolf’s Reapers, stationed as her guard, follow close behind, as does Rictus. Ambessa’s heart stops at what she sees. 

Bodies strewn across the room, a broken table where Mel would have been, people pinned beneath rubble, blood pooling—

“MEL!?” She roars, entering the room without a care for a single person other than her child. Her beautiful little Mel. Her eldest daughter, whom she missed so very much. She couldn’t lose her, not now. So she searches, up and down through the chambers until she finds her—on the ground beside Jayce Talis. 

Ambessa barrels forward, pushing the young man out of the way to cradle Mel in her arms. Her daughter trembles in her embrace. She leans down to meet her baby’s eyes, searching for any signs of injury. “Are you hurt?” 

“No—I—Liya, she’s here. She slipped in at the last minute, I couldn’t—I can’t find her!” Mel reveals her panic growing as the shock gives way to realization. Tears burn in Ambessa’s eyes. 

She already lost her eldest son. If she lost any more of her children, she might die. A piece of her died with Kino; her soul was ripped to shreds at the mere thought of his loss. She vowed from that day forward to do everything in her power to keep her daughters safe. And to think she was moments away from losing them both. 

Mel moves from her mother’s embrace behind her to a rubble-filled corner of the room. The sounds of grieving filled the space as Jayce Talis discovers Cassandra Kiramman, and Councilor Shoola crawls to find Councilors Hoskel and Bolbok. Councilor Salo’s screams echo like a morbid backtrack.  

“She was standing behind me, I saw it hit the room, and then things get—they get hazy, but she was right behind me.” Mel babbles, shock stealing her composure as she desperately searches for her sister. Ambessa remains close, but catches a glimpse of a shining metal. On closer inspection, she realizes with a sickening twist of her gut that it’s your hand sticking out. 

The glint was your Medarda family ring. 

“No…NO.” She yells, surging forward and reaching to pull the slabs of stone away. Mel joins her with tears streaming down her face. Mother and daughter unearth their worst nightmare. 

You’re pinned beneath the remnants of the wall behind you, stealing your breath as you struggle beneath it. Tears stream down your face, blood trickles from the side of your lip—but this is not fatal. They simply need to get you out. 

“RICTUS!” Ambessa roars again, holding Mel close and helping her to stand away from the wreckage. He comes to her side, a hand coming to rest on Mel’s arm to steady her as she sways. “We have to get her out; she needs medical assistance immediately.” She states, and immediately Rictus’s eyes go cold with determination. 

He watched you grow up. Watched you blossom from a grieving, troubled child to a fearless, calculated warrior. He fought alongside you, accepted your help when he couldn’t mend his own wounds mid-battle, and trusted your strategy when the odds seemed stacked against you—you are practically a daughter to him, too.

Within moments, he gathers and focuses the Wolf’s Reapers to clear the rubble. Mel reluctantly takes a step back, though her green eyes search for an opening to get to your side.

Ambessa and Rictus lead the charge of removing the rubble, and the moment you’re free—and able to breathe, after moments of being so close to death—you scream. A stilted scream that pierces your mother’s heart. It cuts off with a gurgle of blood that hurts even more. The pain is lurid and so present that you have no choice. 

Ambessa is by your side in an instant, wrapping you up in her arms as Rictus calls a medic. Mel comes to your other side with more tears streaming down her face. She’s shaking as she presses her hands to your arms and face to affirm that you’re alive. 

“It’s going to be alright, darling, we’re going to get you help,” Ambessa promises shakily, a few tears of her own leaking down her cheeks as you struggle.

From what she can see, the injury lies mainly in your back and ribs—based on your position, she imagines you must have been blown back into the now crumbled wall, and trapped. The pain must be immense; the panic of not being able to breathe was written all over your face. 

You let out a stilted cry that only leads to you coughing up blood. “It hurts! Mama, please. Mel, she’s—

“I’m right here, sweet one. Right here, it’s gonna be ok.” Mel assures, coming into your vision before tipping her forehead to yours. 

Every second it takes for the medics to arrive feels like torture. Mel sobs softly when you cry out in pain, and Ambessa’s own murmuring reassurances only make the cold room feel sadder.

She can only spare a glance toward Jayce, who leaves the Council Chambers without checking on her or you—a crumbled familiar form in his arms. Viktor. A few more tears slip from Mel’s eyes, but she pulls them back. She can only grieve for a moment; you are the priority. Her baby sister. 

When they arrive and escort you to the medical tent in the warship—the only place Ambessa would allow you to be cared for—the place is empty. A strange note addressed to the youngest Medarda, by first name only, sits on one of the hospital beds.

But Ambessa thinks nothing of it, and Mel snags the thing to slip into her dress pocket for later. 

You read it a few days later, when your wounds are healed, and you’re no longer on death’s door. Whatever words were scrawled seem to bring you comfort.

Mel watches from the doorway as tears fill your eyes, and a wistful smile tugs at your lips. When pain pulls you back to sleep, she catches a glimpse of the letter it only confuses her further. The elegant cursive and the vague nature of the message leave her with more questions than answers. 

It reads: 

Hey troublemaker, Thanks for dragging me off of Death's Door. Guess we’re even now. But I have a feeling that won’t keep you away for long. Based on the fancy digs, I can see you risked a lot bringing me here. Your doc tried to keep me down, but I've got places to be. Things to do. Come see me when you've got the time. I want to show my appreciation. - S

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Recovery is not an easy thing. 

Though this is far from the first time you’ve been on the mend after a battle, there is something insidious about having to heal in this place with no real idea of what occurred. It is easier to handle a knife to the gut when you can look your perpetrator in the eyes—but for it to come in such a blindside makes you hyper vigilant. More so than normal.

There is speculation and conjecture running wild in the city.  And to put it to rest, a swift and thorough investigation takes place several days after the attack. More facts come to light. More details on why some died—some, like Lady Kiramman and Councilor Hoskel, were simply unlucky in their assigned seats—and why others survived. Architectural blind spots and the velocity of the bomb that shook the city. 

But none of the information is consolation for your suffering. None of it led to the culprit. 

The series of injuries you left the room with that day is harrowing. Cracked ribs and a nearly broken back. It’s a miracle you landed the way you did—one inch to the left, and you’d have a broken spine. A cracked collarbone and a fractured shin. Another concussion, burst blood vessels in your left eye, and a growing, constant pain, no matter the fancy painkillers.

Mel does her best to allow your mother to take the lead in your healing, as you slept most of the day away to avoid the pain, but her connections in the city prove useful. Many renowned Piltover doctors looked you over, provided painkillers, and expedited fancy remedies. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but your gratitude for her constant assistance grew by the day. 

Beneath all the complicated emotions is a festering desire to seek out that woman—Sevika. Her letter is worn from your constant re-reading. You swear you can smell her faded perfume in the medical bay, on the crumpled piece of paper.

She haunts your dreams, both in sensual recollections of your time together and in less scandalous, wholesome memories of her simple touch. 

The woman whom you’d only known for two nights essentially. You want to be wrapped up in her arms again, distracted from the world and the responsibilities that were waiting on the outskirts of your mind to pull you under. 

You wonder how she’s doing. 

You'd give anything to see how she's recovering, to see with your own two eyes that she made it out of that dreadful state. But you can't risk your own recovery, nor could you risk being seen hobbling into the undercity.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

2 Weeks Later 

Cassandra Kiramman’s funeral is beautiful, all things considered. It is a grand display of appreciation for a matriarch gone far too soon. No expense is wasted, as every flower petal and ribbon of color acts as a love letter to her. 

The Medarda family pays respects as a unit. All three women came together to present a wall of support for the visibly grieving Tobias and the stone-faced Caitlyn. Donning all black, stoicism written on each woman’s face. You all play the part well, remaining in the background of every interaction—a silent ally.

Caitlyn leans on her pink-haired companion heavily in the wings of the procession, and you see the cracks beginning to form. This poor girl is going to crack under the pressure. Losing a parent is never easy, losing your mother…you can’t fathom such a thing. As twisted as your mother could be when it came to military strategy— if you were to lose her, you’d lose yourself.

Although you may not know Caitlyn well, you make a silent vow to check on her once more when your injuries allow. This attack—whose origins still remain a secret despite how clearly you see guilt in Vi’s eyes— left everyone reeling. You see through the secrecy. The weight of something unspoken, some blame Vi puts on herself. 

It doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. 

Jinx did this. Jinx trapped you beneath that rubble by her reckless actions; she was the cause of this constant ache in your back.  An ache, the doctors say, you may never be rid of fully. She is the reason your sister’s nightmares have started anew, the reason a mother was no longer here to raise her daughter, and yet…a tiny smile creeps onto your face. 

Things were finally starting to get interesting around here. If she could create a weapon powerful enough to destroy that room, there was promise for this expedition yet. Hextech would be yours soon enough. This place would be nothing more than a memory if you had your way. And you always do. 

So you limp over to Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi stares at you with thinly veiled suspicion. 

“I know we don’t know each other very well…But I am quite familiar with what it’s like to lose a parent.” You choke up with tears as you meet her gaze. “If there's any way I can assist your family, please feel free to contact me through Mel. With all due respect, I must take my leave; the pain is becoming unmanageable. Peace be with you both during this troubling time.” You offer a grimace of a smile before limping away. Caitlyn watches you with a curious gratitude. Vi’s suspicion and guilt only seem to grow. 

There is truth in your words. The pain is becoming overwhelming, as standing for so long after such a short recovery period was not something you wanted to indulge in often. Right now, you need the plush bed in Mel’s apartment and silence. Not only did your back ache in a blaze of fierce pain, but your head was beginning to pulse. 

Ambessa notices right away as you make toward the back door, and both she and Mel flank you with ease. Though it would be more proper to stay, what matters more to both women is seeing you to your destination. 

Cassandra Kiramman was a fierce, innovative woman who would not be forgotten—as was the case with her compatriots and co-workers—but there was family business to attend to. Your recovery. 

“Let’s get you home, you’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Ambessa says, and out of the corner of your eye, Rictus moves closer to lift you. 

You take a step away from him, with a glare. “I’m not a child. I can walk on my own, the pain is bad but not that bad…I’ll be fine.” 

“Let him help you.” Mel softly says, reaching over to take your hand. “You should save your strength. I have someone coming to tend to your pain this evening.” 

“Do you really? I sure hope it's not your inventor boyfriend, I’ve no need for his tender touch—trust.” You say offhandedly, begrudingly nodding to Rictus before allowing him to lift you into his arms. The pain grows for a split second before you settle into the hold. 

“It’s not him. I have a friend who specializes in this kind of work. She’ll take good care of you.” Mel says, squeezing your hand—which she never let go of, even when Rictus lifted you. 

“I’ll need to meet this person before she goes anywhere near—” Ambessa tries to interject. 

“She’s quite discreet, prefers to work under the cover of night, and with as little interference as possible. I would never do anything to jeopardize my sister.” Mel argues easily, brows furrowed as she fights her stubbornness. 

“Be that as it may, I’m her mother. I have every right to—

“—We’ll work under any conditions she sets, so long as she’s able to assist me. I refuse to be bedridden all day. Thank you, Rictus.” You say as he gently places you beside the carriage. You shiver at the sight of it every time. It’s why you preferred walking in this god-forsaken city. 

Although it looks nothing like the carriage you sat in that fateful day in Noxus—the memory remains fresh. Especially after yet another near-death experience. As soon as you set foot in the carriage, however, a jarring bolt of pain shoots from temple to temple—disabling you for a moment. 

A pained noise falls from your lips, and you reach up to press a finger to the troublesome spots in an attempt to alleviate the pain. In a wave of red, the pain grows and grows. Like thorns are growing behind your eyes. A terrifyingly familiar feeling. 

“What’s wrong love?” Ambessa questions softly, hand reaching out to cradle your face in her scarred hand. Mel tightens her grip on your hand, but you yank away from them both with a whimper. 

“Please…no no no no—I don’t want to go back.” You whisper, eyes closed tight against the onslaught of memories. Your hands are shaky as you reach up to press them against your eyes. As soon as you tighten them, flashes begin. Those cold, dark rooms. The blank stares, gaunt empty eyes, the screams—the pain. 

Those words, your frantic and fearful state—it is all too familiar to Ambessa.    A sad expression takes over her face. Mel watches as your mother and her most trusted guard exchange a panicked look. 

The last thing you see is Mel’s fearful expression, and the doomed understanding of your mother. Then your vision is overtaken by the bloodied thorns of a rose’s stem. The smell of charred, blackened roses fills your nose before you lose yourself completely. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Mel’s never seen anything like it. She feels the shift in the air as you almost transform into a version of yourself she hopes to never see again. For a moment, she swears her eyes deceive her. Surely, she imagines the red flicker in your eyes right before the screaming starts.

Ambessa wastes no time in pulling you into her arms and trapping your arms down at your sides. She learned that lesson the hard way. You thrash, fight, cry against her—but never once acknowledge the world around you. Trapped in the memory of those days, so far away from home. Tears bud in her eyes. 

“What can I do to help?! Mother, please, tell me how to help!” Mel cries, letting the tears fall over her gold-flecked cheeks. Ambessa sighs, and you cry out in her arms again as a vision seems to repeat. You’re trying to rip it out of your head.

“All we can do is wait,” Ambessa explains with sorrow. You cry in her arms, eyes closed against the horrible things circulating through your mind. 

What you see in your mind’s eye is not memories. The blackened petals that fall, and the storm in the back of your mind, are a torture of your mind’s own creation. Seeds were planted, and they had a tendency to bloom when jostled.

“Please! I don’t want to go back; she’ll kill me. Or worse, she’ll scrape me bare. Leave me empty the way she did the others. Let me go!” You yell, and Ambessa winces at the memory of your worst episodes. 

When you returned to Rokrund, you were a different child. The “spells” were more frequent then, a daily occurrence. However, they waned over the years; fight training and strategic planning provided an outlet and focus. Now, though, the tight control you once had over the darkness in your mind snapped. 

It takes the entire carriage ride for you to calm down. Ambessa holds you through it all, whispering reassurances between your panicked utterances. Mel remains by your side, eyes never leaving you—her hand outstretched to grasp onto you at a moment’s notice. But she hesitates, for fear of making the situation worse. By the time you return to Mel’s apartment, you’ve finally faded into that in-between state. Still stiff with fear, fighting against horrible memories. But quiet. Mercifully quiet. 

Mel guides you to bed, once Ambessa reluctantly lets you go. She can see the way Mel is desperate to help in some way, desperate to make you more comfortable. When you’re curled up in the guest bed that’s become your resting place these past few weeks, neither woman wants to leave your side. 

“I…you should stay here, tonight. I don’t think she’ll take kindly to waking up alone in an unfamiliar environment.” Mel says, her voice quiet and unsure. 

For the first time in years, she accepts her mother’s comfort. Ambessa wraps her arm around her oldest daughter’s shoulders. 

“She’ll be alright, Mel…this is nothing new, although it’s been nearly a year since the last one.” Ambessa recounts, before guiding Mel out to the living room. She casts a glance back toward you, but Rictus—sensing her unease—steps forward. 

He only has to nod for her to know you’re safe under his watch. That he would remain watching over her daughter, as their family reeled from this traumatic event. One she should have foreseen. 

In some ways, Ambessa had. It’s the reason she came to this place: to protect Mel from this. It’s clear now that her child could not handle the conflict properly. This should have never happened. The threat should have been neutralized a long time ago. But it’s too late to go back.

And it wouldn’t happen again. Ambessa would ensure it. 

“What causes them?” Mel questions, eyes trained on her mother for answers. Her eagerness to learn reminds Ambessa viscerally of the little Mel following her every word in the midst of the war room. Back when she was so eager to learn how best to make a name for herself as a Medarda. How to earn her mother’s approval. Before Ambessa was forced to shatter that dream for her—and for herself. To keep her safe. 

“The doctors deduced it’s a combination of trauma and a suspected head injury. They aren’t just flashbacks, they’re…something else. But all the solutions I’ve sought have proved temporary.” Ambessa explains. 

“She made it so long without one…has the bombing taken her back to square one?” Mel wonders aloud, concern lacing her voice. 

“No, she’s nowhere near square one. That was…one of the milder attacks I’ve witnessed. They were quite frequent in the early days of recovery…But I am concerned about how sudden it was. I presume she’s spoken to you already about…the incident.” Ambessa states, meeting Mel’s gaze with a shared understanding. A shared sadness at the things you’ve had to go through. 

Mel doesn’t need to respond; Ambessa knows her child well. “And I’m glad. She needs someone to confide in. She’ll be okay…I assure you.” 

Mother and daughter settle into a comfortable, but tense silence. And they stand guard through the night. 

Mel and Ambessa enter a silent truce for the evening. No talk of wars, Hextech, or old wounds. They simply exist, mother and daughter—keeping vigil.

 ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Lest comes in late the night, a silent angel bearing forbidden fruit. Ambessa regards her with curiosity, but does not say a word. There is a great irony in the presence of this vastaya coming to save the day. She simply nods—sensing the importance of her discretion and lack of interference. If this would help with the pain, so be it. 

You’re half asleep when Mel guides the vastaya into the spare room. You look up blearily, tensing at the unfamiliar presence. But Mel is quick to comfort, kneeling at the side of the bed and gently rubbing your arm. 

“Liya…this is my friend Lest. She’s here to help you manage the pain.” Mel explains gently, trying to ease you back into consciousness in a way that does not result in another violent outburst. 

Lest steps forward, slowly taking off her shawl to reveal more of herself. The tall, elegant, cat-like ears and large yellow eyes mesmerize you instantly.

“Liya…I’ve heard much about you. I’m sorry you’re in so much pain. I can help. If you’ll let me.” She offers, not pushing but offering in a soft tone that should not be condescending. But it is only calming. 

“What will you do?” You question, still untrusting. 

Lest takes out her tools—almost identical to a painter’s brush and a pot of paint. How ironic, but fitting for an associate of Mel’s. The substance within the pot glimmers and ripples in a dangerously enticing manner. It almost shimmers under the moonlight. 

“I’ve diluted a rather potent…substance. In the places you feel the most pain, I paint to mask the pain. It will hold for 24 hours. Should you need a re-up, that can be arranged. But I do not recommend using this as a crutch. It is a temporary fix for the worst of your pain. And it will become an addiction if you overindulge.” She warns, her words carrying an ethereal seriousness. In the dark of night, this clandestine meeting is like something out of a fairytale.

Despite the warning, you nod. You couldn't care less what’s in it. So long as it takes the pain away. 

“I’ll need to see the area of your worst wounds. I’ll apply the healing there.” 

You gulp at the thought of showing your back to a stranger. But Mel is here, and you want the pain to stop. So you allow Mel to help you shift and to strip off the tunic. 

When Lest begins her ministrations, you don’t expect her to start at the top of your shoulder blades, where your worst scars lie. You flinch with a startled cry and move to stop her, but Mel calms you. 

“It’s okay, sweet one. She’s just trying to find the source of the worst pain. It makes sense to follow the existing lines.” She explains, and the explanation calms you long enough to allow the prolonged touch.

It is an odd sensation at first. The first line Lest paints corresponds with the runic scarring. It almost seems to seep into your skin. With every stroke of her brush, the pain fades, and a slight buzz settles behind your eyes. She is methodical and intentional with every movement. It lulls you into a state of calm, hand clasped in Mel’s. 

The process takes an hour or more. Ambessa comes in to check the progress, hands clasped behind her back as she restrains herself from commenting or stopping the process. She can tell you’re already breathing easier, already less tense. Her eyes watch keenly as Lest finishes her work. 

She leaves without a word, exhausted by the intricacy of her own work. You’ve fallen into a restful sleep for the first time in weeks, and as Lest leaves, Mel gives her a look of gratitude.

“I know this is quite unconventional…thank you. Thank you so much.” 

Lest only nods, a conflicting mix of regret and longing in her eyes as she disappears into the night just as silently as she arrived. 

AN: This chapter is the one I'm most nervous about lmao. In my planning, I felt the one canon plot point that absolutely would not change by our presence--bc Ambessa arrives the day Caitlyn gets kidnapped by Jinx--the attack on the council.

Also, Sevika has not yet connected the dots of what family Liya is a part of. She just figures she's a rich Noxian, but has no reason to recognize the Medarda symbol yet, because I imagined she wouldn't care what the house symbols are when her main focus is on Zaun's liberation and at that time Silco's work.

This is the last pre-written chapter. And I just started a new job, so things will be a little slower on the update side until more chapters are written. I know this is an awful cliffhanger to leave it on bc so much has been introduced so sorry 🤣♡

Taglist: @beggingonherknees, @planettorzor, @riotstemple29 , @djena1d , @lupitasvm , @kinkyglutsfairy, @saerenee , @xnalux

Find this fic on AO3, Liya's Character Intro & Fic Intro ♡

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description: Returning to Piltover after meeting Sevika, Liya walks right into the height of the family drama and a long-overdue confrontation. But an argument draws her back into the embrace of a certain Zaunite, who happens to be gravely injured.

tags: Sevika x Reader, slowburn, enemies to lovers, Medarda!Reader, Medarda Family Drama, character study, family drama, political intrigue, Ambessa needs therapy, Mel needs therapy, Local Cuisine needs therapy

word count: 5.8k

family matters

After your encounter with Sevika, you traverse the streets of the Undercity to return topside. You enter Mel’s apartment to find the place in chaos. It hasn’t been long, only a few hours…but this is not what you imagined returning to. 

There is a man—the same local cuisine who escorted your mother from the docks just yesterday— cowering near the door, uncertain and shaking. Mel’s muffled, anguished voice sends shivers down your spine. 

“Why did you do it?!” You could just make out, and the words startle you into action. Something is happening, something private. This man didn’t need to be here. 

“Leave.” You command with a growl, and you watch as relief fills him. With explicit permission, he flees from the apartment on shaky legs. The shouting echoes through the apartment, and you walk in just as your mother, barefoot, obviously off-duty, emotionally relays something to Mel.

You only catch the tail end of it, but now you kick yourself for not being here earlier. The tension in the room is palpable from the hallway; your heart speeds up as you fight to move closer despite your instinct to flee. 

“Because you weakened me! I couldn’t endure the look in your eyes whenever I made the decisions—the necessary decisions to keep us safe!” Mother cries, her voice vulnerable in a way you know is not easy for her. She has hardly ever shown this side of herself voluntarily.

Your heart sinks. You'd hoped this confrontation could take place far, far away from you. But alas, your desire to escape the sudden vulnerability you felt laid bare in Sevika’s arms led you right into your worst nightmare. 

The subject of Mel’s exile was one left untouched for many years. You were so young when she was forced out that any protests you gave fell upon deaf ears. And the events that led up to it all made your mind so blurry with panic and grief. All you could remember with clarity was that one day your sister was there, and the next she was being sent away. 

For decades, you wondered what led up to it. There are more questions than answers now, but the band-aid has been ripped off. 

Ambessa stands and paces away from her daughter, veins bulging from her own furious grip. She sighs. “We need that weapon, Mel…I interfere here in an effort to both protect you and to prepare you. Let the war unfold. Then you come home….take your place at my side—it's where you belong.” She says, her large hand coming to rest on Mel’s shoulder. 

A sob falls from your sister’s lips. You’re unsure of how to approach the situation, in all honesty. Mother has trained you well for war. Processing military strategies, combat, or espionage situations was something you could do as second nature. Navigating this talk was not something you were equipped for in the slightest. But luckily, your mother’s sixth sense navigates the conversation for you. 

The general clears her throat and turns her head toward where you hide behind a wall. 

“I heard you come in.” She shouts, her voice making you jump as you realize how obvious you were. Even as she projects, there is a slight wobble to her words that gives you pause. Of course, she would have heard the front door open. And she would have heard her toy leave with the pathetic whimpers that fell from his lips—you were too focused on being nosy to think past your baser senses.

With a reluctant sigh, you walk forward. As you turn the corner, a sheepish expression comes easily.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to interrupt. I just returned, but I can leave…” 

“There’s no need. You’re welcome here. This has nothing to do with you.” Mel promises, her sadness pulling you like a magnet. You stand by her side and offer your hand in comfort. She takes it eagerly. 

“It has everything to do with me. The few short years we got together were not enough. I want you home, Mel.” You plead, allowing your real desires to slip forth as she looks up at you with wide green eyes. “I’ve so needed a sister by my side. Think of all we could do…together. We could rule the world. Every inch of it.” You confess in a whisper that is a promise. You will rule the world, side by side. 

You’ll make sure of it. 

Kino did the best he could as an older brother—but between the large age difference, the early trauma shaping your young mind, and Kino’s relentless pursuit of the ghost that stole your father—you did not have many peers to turn to. Not many places to find advice or solace. Something you and Mel had in common. 

You only had Mother…but there were days you needed a sister to turn to. When the complexities of womanhood and life tripped you up—and the answers could not be solved by the merit of a fist or your cunning mind—you needed her.

You squeeze Mel’s hand. “I know you have a lot to think about…and I know that the choice cannot be made right now—we shall leave it for a later time.  Maybe we should have dinner early, calm some of the tension.” You offer, considering every possibility you can think of to prevent any further damage to Mel and your mother’s relationship. 

You catch a glimpse of Rictus out of the corner of your eye and grimace. The man is practically a father figure to you, but it still unsettles you to know he saw so much of an intimate interaction. 

“No,” Ambessa says, spinning around to compose herself before looking at her daughters. “We’ll have dinner this evening. At seven. We have yet to dine together as a family in this city; it's important for us to be together. For now, I shall give you space to think…I know that was a lot. Liya will stay here with you to ensure..…I love you, Mel.” She confesses in a whisper, her hand barely twitching as she resists the urge to reach out and touch her eldest daughter, before she stomps toward the door. 

As she passes you, a glance is shared—and you realize as you take in the tears in your mother’s eyes…this is the point of no return. This confrontation would mark the end of an era. And you weren’t even present for the full scope of it. 

The urge to follow after Ambessa is strong. There are so many questions you have yet to gain answers to. What exactly had she done to Jayce? That was the only plausible answer as to what upset Mel to such a degree. There hadn’t been much discussion on your mother’s plans for Jayce during training. You were not privy to her every move, but…you knew the games she played. The depths she was willing to go to protect your family. 

The man couldn’t be so weak that he’d collapse and tell Mel all his dirty secrets of the meeting—and yet here you all were. Fractured and confused. Whatever confrontation led to the confession was none of your concern now. The only thing that mattered now was ensuring you could repair the relationship sooner rather than later. 

If you did not stand as a united front, all would be lost. She would win. And all the answers you so desperately sought would be lost to this family’s constant feuding once more. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Mel sits in silence for longer than she would ever admit. Your presence is a steady reminder that all is not lost, and that she is not as alone as it feels in this moment. You wait with her in stoic silence, unmoving like a statue. 

Confronting Ambessa was not something Mel could have counted on today. But once the pieces came together, and Mel began to understand the layers of machinations Ambessa sowed in less than 48 hours, she was equal parts furious and devastated. 

Because Jayce was supposed to be hers. Piltover, this place chosen to mock and humiliate the kindness in her heart was hers. She fought hard to make a name for herself in this city. To shape it into something useful, something beautiful. And now her mother’s presence threatened the exile she turned into a sanctuary—for reasons she still could not fully decipher. 

Mel is now expected to believe that the choice to traumatize her was meant to protect her from the pain waiting for her in Noxus, but she senses more under the surface. 

“You’re thinking too much.” You whisper, coming to sit beside her on the bench. A hand comes to rest on Mel’s cheek. “Whatever you’re obsessing over will not change the situation in the slightest. Let it rest for now.” You simply state, before gently guiding your sister toward her bedroom. 

Without question, Mel allows herself to be guided to lie down. You lay beside her, after placing your weapons down on the ground with precision. The careful way you strip off every semblance of armor, before slowly making your way onto the bed, fills Mel’s eyes with tears. Even with your torn allegiance written clear as day in your bright eyes, the care you take in making her feel seen summons more sobs. 

Mel wants to go home. She wants to be with what’s left of her family. She wants to get to know the baby sister that seems to have sprouted overnight — and possibly the mother she now suspects is much more complex than she ever could have imagined.

But there is more work to be done. She cannot just abandon the place she now calls home. The work she cultivated over the past 7 years. The first real friendships she’d ever had outside of Elora. And even that was tainted with bureaucratic necessity.

However…blood is thicker than water. Her family should always come first. Kino was already lost to her—and the mere reminder of his absence brought forth another sob that you soothe with a strong hug. She would give anything to hear his words of wisdom right about now. 

“It’s ok, Mel…I’m here. Just let it go for a bit.” You whisper. The spice of your perfume feels so distinctly like home that Mel falls apart even more. The sobs ring loud through the room, but you do not falter for a second. Despite the awkward uncertainty creating tension inside of you—strong arms support Mel through the waves of overwhelming emotion. 

You sit with her until the tears dry, and until her body aches from the force of her sobs. Never once do you shed a tear, despite the burning in the corners of your eyes. 

When she can stand to look at herself, Mel makes her way out of bed to clean herself up. Her makeup is probably running all over her face, her hair must be a mess—she could not wallow in this forever. Nor would she allow herself to continue setting such an example for you. 

You watch with sad understanding as she moves to, in essence, reapply the mask that has served her so well. She chooses to keep her face bare, however, though she skips the hassle of taking her hair out for now.

When she returns, you’re no longer in the bedroom, but the open door suggests you’ve migrated elsewhere. She follows the familiar scent of cloves, honey, and sweet milk to the barely used kitchen. Her eyes water yet again as she enters to find you recreating her fondest memories. Your back is turned, but she can glance at the milk in one of the only pots in the house. 

This sweet, spiced milk was Ambessa Medarda’s version of comfort. When words failed her, when her strong embrace was not enough to soothe her children’s worries, she walked them down to the kitchen quarters and made this drink. Even when the chef tried to take over for her, she refused the notion that she was not capable of making a treat for her own children. Every one of her children has a memory of their impossibly strong mother gently mixing this concoction with a wistful smile on her face. 

Many a night, Mel found herself on her mother’s knee sipping a mug of this concoction fondly referred to as moonmilk. As they would only indulge when the moon was watching. 

Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks once more. 

“You made moonmilk for me?” She barely manages to get out. You don’t turn fully, as you’re still stirring the concoction to ensure the ingredients steep for long enough and the milk doesn't burn. 

“Of course. I had a feeling you might need a piece of home to bring you some comfort. Your cabinet is poorly developed; there is not a single star anise in sight. I had to make do with a bit of ginger and extra cloves.” You chide playfully. The sweet smell draws Mel further in, and soon a mug sprinkled with a touch of cinnamon is placed before her. 

“Drink. Dinner is on the way. Elora came to check on you after…everyone left, but I told her to come back in 2 hours. Curried goat and a seafood stew are coming. I didn’t know which you’d prefer.” You softly state. The diligence of your choices makes her eyes water once more.  

“You’re so kind to me…thank you, sweet one.” 

You only nod in response before the front door’s ringing steals your attention. Mel watches with awe and pride as you take charge of the space. Balancing the hot meals in your hands as you tote them to the kitchen, instructing the delivery men to stay at the doorway to preserve Mel’s privacy. 

She is bare-faced in a way that no one in this town, save for Jayce, has ever seen. And somehow, without asking, you know that the last thing she would want was for gossip to spread based on the puffiness and slight redness of her eyes. 

You fill up a bowl with delicious-smelling curry for her and motion for her to keep drinking her beverage. There is a look of fondness flashing across your face that is so distinctly Ambessa—that another wave of tears threatens to overtake Mel. But she fights against it and enjoys the comforting meal for as long as possible. 

There is much still left to discuss, but for now, Mel basks in the nostalgia of this moment and prays she can convince you to stay behind in Piltover with her. To free yourself from the perpetual wars that Ambessa fought. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

When Mel retreats to indulge in painting to release some of the pain still swirling inside of her, you retreat into the guest room to have a breakdown of your own. 

However, you’ve been conditioned to fall apart in silence. Out of necessity. So you let tears fall in the quiet of the room as you sharpen your weapons.

Each methodical slice of the whetstone brings you closer to a state of peace. Though you’d been discreet up until now, it was not the norm for you to be in any room without some weapon on your person. Blades were most convenient, but you trained hard to master as many weapons as possible. Your real weapons of choice were never far away. They were your only companions. 

The first, and most important to you, was a gift from Kino.

A long golden spear, with beautiful engravings on the tip and a textured leather handle. Symmetrical lines and a few phrases in old Ur-Nox and lost Shuriman languages, the tenants of the Medarda family cover what is essentially a work of art. It is a replica of the one Grandfather Menelik used in his first battle.

There is a tattered red cloak of Kino’s tied to the hilt. A reminder now. Every fight was for him. Every enemy slain was one step closer to finding who killed him. It is your most commonly used weapon in battle, the one you trained the hardest with.

But the dual blades you clean after placing the spear on a display rack are your more informal weapon. Usually reserved for special occasions, as they are difficult to maneuver, but they have proven quite useful in the undercity. 

They are twin drakehound hilts leading to jagged, curved blades. Normally attached to long chains that you wrap around your battle vambraces, for wide sweeping attacks and targeted attacks that drag an individual closer. 

The ones you clean on the floor of Mel’s apartment are the ones given to you by your mother, after your first completed campaign. A remaster of the ones you found glory with, in the Reckoner’s Arena of Noxus. There are still scars from the chains residing on your arms and forearms. 

The mindless shuffle of cleaning is meditative, but the stifled silence of the apartments set off alarm bells in your mind. It is too quiet. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as you leave the weapons behind to venture in search of your sister. 

You find her not far from where you’d left her, though the mood in the room has shifted. It hadn’t occurred to you that her painting skills may have increased over the years. You’d seen the painting above her bed—the bloodied necklace of the Binan legacy, her first test. 

Its symbolism was not lost on you. Surely, whatever she painted today would not be nearly as visceral as that. You were too young to remember her test very clearly, but its aftermath is still being felt to this day. 

As you re-enter the living room, you also enter the shores of Rokrund. The painting is a masterful abstract depiction of the familiar shoreline, and the sails of Medarda ships in the harbor. Your heart skips a beat for a moment at the sight. There are many memories—both good and bad—of times you returned to its shores after campaigns. Like returning to the arms of a loved one, even now you miss it.

“Are you visualizing the shores you’ll be returning to?” You question quietly, causing Mel to startle. Regret hits you square in the chest as she jumps around to look at you, uncertainty lingering in her gaze. 

“I am... following my intuition. I have no idea how this will pan out, but…I wanted to remember. For the first time in a long time, I chose to remember.” She says, though you sense she’s holding back. 

You give her a moment before clearing your throat. “I understand you’ve grown quite attached to Piltover, but…I cannot be off the mark in thinking you’d want to be with your family…surely?” You question, allowing your own sliver of vulnerability to fall through. It hurts to consider Mel staying behind in this place.

She sighs, and your heart drops. “It’s…complicated. I miss you so much, and there is a large part of me that wants to return to the life I’ve dreamed of having in Noxus. But it’s…it’s too late. The situation has developed beyond what I could have anticipated, and I—

“—if this is about the boy, I swear on our father’s grave I will drag you out of this place by your hair.” You exclaim, a sudden rush of anger propelling you forward.

The idea of being able to have your sister so close, only to lose her to some man, nearly brought you to your knees. No, nothing could take you there save for your own mother’s blade. It brought you to a place of nearly meditative rage.

Plans began to form, and his death became much more of an inevitability as opposed to a reality. 

Mel’s own anger cuts off your thoughts. 

“Jayce has nothing to do with this. The work we’ve facilitated—alongside Viktor—is part of the reason I am hesitant, but it’s not all about this clandestine romance you’ve created in your head.” Mel spat, for the first time, truly beginning to lose her temper with your sister. 

Though Mel losing her temper was not nearly as terrifying as it should have been. The way her face scrunches evokes such fondness in you, until she continues to speak. “I have friends here…a beautiful opera house I haven’t even gotten to share with you because I’ve been too busy fending off our mother’s attempts at espionage. My reluctance to return to Noxus is not a result of some romantic entanglement.” 

The pieces fall into place at her words.

“You love this place…truly.” You whisper in disbelief, eyebrow lifting in indignation. “I guess mother was right…your sentimentality and compassionate ways belong firmly planted in this sinking ship of a city. I will not plead. I will wait until you see the error of your ways. Maybe then you’ll see how beneath you this is when the war has already begun. When your precious city is up in flames.” 

“Why is it so disgusting to you that I might feel something? That I might think of other people’s feelings, or consider the best ways to get everyone what they want without lobbing off their heads? What could be so disgusting, so wrong about that, I will never understand! Just because the two of you walk around with an ice block for a heart does not mean that I have to be the same.” Mel snaps in response, more tears burning in her eyes. She has never once lost her temper in such a way with you. Genuine anguish and rage bled from her every word, and they pierce your heart.

Deep down, you know this outburst isn’t meant for you, but for your mother. You’re simply here, while she is off continuing her mission. Her words still sting, however. 

The insult surrounding your ice-cold heart especially makes your stomach drop. 

When your most compassionate act led to torture in that hellish place, the ice began to form. Not of your own volition, but out of necessity. A shake of your head cleared the dark thorns climbing to steal you from the present. 

“You’re right, Mel.” You state, heart, thundering as you try your hardest to keep composed. “You’re not like us.” You hiss, voice dropping low as rage fills you as well.

Another part of you takes over as horrible acid flies from your lips. “It is glaringly obvious to me that you’d prefer to sit on your spoiled rear and waste your days watching this city burn—by your hand—than to face the responsibility attached to the Medarda name. Our name.

I have a heart. It may be ice, but it beats for my family, for the mother who nursed me back to health, for the memory of a brother who did his best to love me back into someone worth living…for the father I barely got to know, but who gave his life protecting us.” You growl, stalking toward her with increasing tears as your composure leaves completely.

The words come off so enraged, but for a moment, you deflate. Exhausted already. “…Have you ever considered that bleeding heart of yours is so focused on everyone else in this world, and not those who should matter most to you?” 

Your words give her pause. Tears fill Mel’s eyes, and she struggles to find the words to refute your claims. 

“Liya I—” 

“I’m taking a walk…I know I just returned, but I need space. You need space. We all need space before I rip this place apart. I’ll be back for dinner.” You offer, swiping your own tears before standing to leave. 

Mel’s pleas fall on deaf ears as you escape the apartment once more, fleeing into the open air of Piltover and into the afternoon heat. 

As the door closes behind you, Mel releases a frustrated yell, and the sound of paint splatter echoes through the place. But you continue forward. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Running to your mother after such an encounter would only make things worse. You are not a child; you can manage your emotions and navigate the blinding hurt all on your own. 

The only thing you could think to do to occupy your time was to seek out answers. The slip of paper Sevika gave you could lead to many good things. You were half tempted to find her again, to pick her brain after finding a place to start with this Madam. This back and forth—topside, undercity, Mel’s apartment, the streets of Pitlover—was exhausting. But it was a necessary evil. 

The address led to a warehouse in the slums of the Lanes, and god knows what you’d find there. Returning to the Undercity felt so silly after spending so much time in the place hours ago. But the warehouse is a tempting lead.

Madam Margot may not be able to provide much information, but if she could give insight into the mystery merchant’s illegal dealings, possible blackmail could be unearthed when the time for confrontation came. 

As soon as you set foot in the Lanes, an ominous sense of foreboding falls down your spine. A storm is coming. Your heart drops when The Last Drop is not nearly as lit up as it had been the previous evening. An establishment like this would be lit up all the time. When the Lanes were a perpetual smog-filled night, a 24-hour bar only made sense. This…did not bode well.

You only knew the woman for one short night, but you were becoming quite attached to her. To the thought of her velvety voice and brooding expression. The closer you get, the more disturbed you feel. The front doors are locked, but it only takes a few twists of a makeshift lock-picking tool for you to get inside. Noxian training is quite thorough. Covering a wide range of scenarios and circumstances.

Entering the doors of the Last Drop to find the aftermath of a horrible fight sends shivers down your spine. The bar is trashed. Chairs are broken, floorboards snapped, and trails of blood run wild everywhere. A great battle took place here, but you see no evidence of death. And yet, no sign of Sevika sending your heart into a fast, unpredictable rhythm. You step carefully. 

“Sevika?” Tip-toeing over the pieces of furniture and searching for a glimpse of your new lover felt like torture. Your heartbeat beats louder with every passing moment. The silence grows unbearable, and your vision blurs. 

Then you turn a corner and find the jukebox. See her hanging from it, limbs dangling upside down. Her prosthetic arm is gone, ripped from her in a most violent display. For a split second, her stillness makes you want to throw up.

Surely after one meeting, you shouldn’t care about a random civilian so much, but…Sevika has a hold on you. The moment she groans and gives a little twitch, relief courses through you in waves. It nearly sends you to your knees. 

“Dear gods, what happened?” You question without thinking, running to her side and assisting Sevika out of her predicament without question. It takes a great deal of concentration to haul Sevika upright and out of the broken equipment.

She’s in horrible shape, bruised and bleeding from wounds you couldn’t fathom. Her missing prosthetic leaves behind a dripping port that seems incredibly painful.

She winces as you place her on the ground, but you let her lean against you as much as she needs to catch her breath before beginning the trek out of the Last Drop. 

“You still haven’t answered my question.” You grumble, assessing her wounds with calculating eyes and gentle hands.

“I don’t have to answer your damn questions,” Sevika replies shakily, her breathing becoming labored as she fights to stay conscious. 

“Considering I’m the reason you’re upright, I suggest you treat me with more respect.” You state, before hauling her up further on your shoulder and increasing your pace. 

The leak is growing worse, and your concern increases. There’s no way that’s healthy, and there was no way a doctor in this hellhole can care for her properly. 

“We’re going topside.” You warn her, before steering her toward the elevator you've used before.

A plan is already forming in your head, ways to avoid being seen with this obviously injured Undercity criminal. You could give her your cloak and profess her to be a fallen Reaper to get into the medical bay. At the very least, you could profess her to be a key witness in some scheme of your mother's. 

All you had to do was get her to the ship. It would be hard, and incredibly annoying. But worth it. This woman, whom you’d only really known for that one night, felt like the kind of home you’d dreamt about.

Something in her called to you. And that didn’t happen often. The world passed you by in a blur of threats, family obligations, and strategy. Connections were few and far between. Something about Sevika made you want to melt. 

“What?! Are you out of your mind? Just because I fuck you one time doesn’t mean I’m your girlfriend, sweetheart. I’m a grown ass woman.” Sevika growls, though it’s halfhearted.

“A grown ass woman who will die if she doesn’t take my help. You know very well you can’t sleep this off. I have access to a discreet medical tent equipped to handle situations like this…you helped me, let me help you.” You implore toward the end, a bit of softness slipping into your words. Sevika’s eyes go tender and mildly surprised for a split second before turning hard again. 

“I don’t need your help.” She remarks with a scowl. You return the scowl in turn and teach her a lesson quickly. 

It doesn’t take much to untangle her from your shoulder and let her body drop to the floor. She tries to catch herself, but the weakness from blood loss and her injury leaves her helpless. She flops to the ground with a pained groan that breaks your heart. But her stubbornness is annoying, and you certainly don’t have time for it. 

She looks up at you with a glare. “Are you done?” 

“Are you done? I’m trying to save your life, and your mouth will get you in more trouble than you can handle right now.” You hiss before pulling back the anger with a deep breath. “If you keep quiet, I can take you to real help.” You state, head tilted as you spit your vitriol, well-intentioned. 

She growls, but nods in a stiff way that suggests she’s in pain. You help her back up with ease and start the long trek toward the elevator. Halfway through, you pause against a brick wall in an alleyway to give her your cloak. Sevika is shivering from the shock of her injuries. 

The cloak has the Medarda house symbol woven into the bottom corner, which you only realize once you hand it over. But Sevika doesn’t notice. She notices nothing as her skin steadily grows paler, and she becomes weaker. It takes all your strength to get her to the elevator, and at a certain point, you’re the only thing holding her up. 

By a miraculous twist of fate, the guards are gone when you reach topside. The elevator is empty, and you’re able to begin the trek to the ship with ease. The guards are present and surprised by your guest.

They help you bring her into the tent, though they seem unsure of what they're assisting with. And if it will cost them their heads when General Medarda finds out. Sevika's full unconscious, which is incredibly worrying, you’re relatively grateful.

Having to explain this to her would have been a nightmare. The medic tent is in the opposite direction from the living quarters, thankfully. The only person present is the doctor on call, who stumbles at the sight of an injured civilian. 

“My associate needs assistance, Dr. Keyleth.” You state, and Sevika is taken from your arms with haste. 

She looks out of place surrounded by the blood-red Noxian decor. You sit and wait with her, never once letting her out of your sight until she’s patched up and stable.

As unsettled as you are by her continued unconscious state, you are well aware of the fact that she would have quite a negative reaction to your life. It’s one thing to be known as a soldier. It’s entirely another thing to be known as the soldier sister of a council member who had a direct hand in disenfranchising her home. 

Her unconscious state was a blessing in disguise. 

The doctor, as you expected, handled her case with great care and rapid attention. A team of nurses is called in to facilitate a quicker service. They do not question this odd civilian’s presence or her state—they simply do their job. As good Noxians should.

You stand guard, watching every twitch, every furrow of Sevika’s brow. And with every second that passes, you pray your mother is not lying in wait—ready to question this visitation. 

Within an hour, the worst of her wounds are patched up. The nurses and assistants all vacate the room. Sevika lay still unconscious, but stable for the time being. 

“I need you to shut the medical wing down until I return. If she wakes, do not allow her to leave. And do not, under any circumstances, allow my mother to see her.” You implore Dr. Keyleth, who nods gravely at your request. “I’m engaging in an endeavor on her behalf and caught some snags with my contacts. I would prefer to keep this quiet. I will pay you handsomely.” You promise, switching on an embarrassed facade that works the trick. 

The doctor nods. 

You sit with Sevika for as long as you can, watching with bated breath as she seems to stabilize. The tension in her strong frame seems to lessen as the medication does its job.

You wonder, distantly, what she looks like when she sleeps properly...in the late hours of the night, does she snore? What would she do without her prosthetic? Was her left hand her dominant hand? Where could she go to get a replacement—if it was even possible? 

It was so gruesome of her attacker to rip it from her. Even during your most brutal battles, if an opponent had a prosthetic of any kind, you’d never rip it from them unless the situation was dire. Leaving her there without it was personal. 

Whoever did this to her would pay. Even if Sevika wasn’t “yours”…she was under your protection in some way. She needed it, obviously. 

For the time being, patience would be key. For now, your duties call. It’s nearing the time for you to face the music of your family tragedy. 

With one last look to the doctor—and a silent prayer that the woman does her job correctly—you leave the premises reluctantly. 

You have a dinner to get to.

AN: This chapter was a lot. I had to edit it a bit before releasing, but I love the final product, lots of juicy drama.

Mel and Ambessa had their fight, which led to some beautiful sibling bonding and arguing. Sevika and Vi had their off-screen fight, which led to us getting to assist her. I always wondered how she recovered from being thrown into a piece of machinery lmao Next chapter is a doozy, and also the last pre-written chapter, so it will take a little longer between updates. See you soon ♡

Taglist: @beggingonherknees, @planettorzor, @riotstemple29 , @djena1d , @lupitasvm , @kinkyglutsfairy, @saerenee , @xnalux Masterlist

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fic masterlist

description: While investigating leads in the undercity, Liya has a run-in with a few familiar faces and an encounter with a notorious Undercity criminal that blooms into an unexpected connection.

tags: Sevika x Reader, slowburn, enemies to lovers, Medarda!Reader, Medarda Family Drama, character study, family drama, political intrigue, Sevika does not get paid enough, Vi is pissed,

word count: 5.8k

18+ MDNI

undercity adventure

Making your way into the Undercity alone feels like a poor choice. 

Caitlyn is nowhere to be found when you make your way to the Kiramman estate to rope her into your search, and taking a Wolf’s Reaper would draw too much attention. Rictus, too, would be a walking beacon of suspicion beside you. 

So alone you go, after changing clothes, of course. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had to employ a costume change to conceal your identity. 

You steal a long, dark hooded cape from your Mel first and slip on a corseted leather top with little inlets of shoulder and chest armor. It goes well with the dark baggy joggers you wear. Your belt-knife is non-negotiable, although you conceal it well. It is virtually impossible to conceal the drakehound blades at your hip; however, the cape does a decent job of making you seem less threatening. They are a necessary evil. You refuse to go into that place without some proper weapon.  

Reconnaissance was not unfamiliar to you in the slightest, but this city was under such sensitive turmoil that it directly affected your dear sister. If you didn’t play your cards well, you’d cause more issues for yourself. 

The elevator leading to your prize is guarded fiercely. Pairs of enforcers block the passage to your mission. But they don’t stand in your way long. 

You approach the shortest of them, a beady-eyed, bulky man whose eyes linger on you a moment too long. A seductive smile slides across your face. 

“Hello, officer. I apologize for the intrusion. I know security is tight around here. I’m an intern under Councilor Talis, and I…embarrassingly enough, I left an important artifact near the geysers.” You lie, dropping your hood to look down at the man. “Could you let me pass? I promise I won’t be long.” 

The elevator leads you down, deep into a city you didn’t even know existed. 

You’ve heard of the “Undercity” or Zaun, as it was referred to in the few history books that bothered to mention it at all. In your studies, this place never managed to be of extreme importance, but now your keen eyes take in every detail in hopes of discovering a clue of some sort. As the darkness consumes you and dirty neon lights become the only source of light, you wonder what in the world a girl from House Kiramman could want with this place. And you begin to understand how this maniac called Jinx might have been born in a place like this. 

The single lead you gathered from Kino’s papers is a seedy-looking bar in what seems to be the heart of this putrid city. Every underhanded individual in the city frequents the bar, one of them being a prominent Piltovian merchant, whose name you could not parse. Kino’s research was scattered and partially destroyed, but you pored over ledgers and letters to find a few suspicious sets of receipts tied to an unsanctioned warehouse in the Undercity.

One of these people would give you a lead, just enough to get what you need. 

A large neon sign tells you the name of your destination: The Last Drop. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t waste your time on such an establishment. You could get wasted on better liquor in Mel’s apartment or after a quick scavenge of your mother’s tent on a campaign. 

But something else pulls you closer. 

You see her barreling out of the establishment with a purpose—a cigarillo perched between her plump, dark-painted lips. Her dark hair falls to her broad shoulders in a half-pulled-back style. Revealing a blue-tinted scar on the left side of her gorgeous face. You want to run your tongue down the ridges of them, see how they feel. Her strong nose and brooding expression make your heart race. She’s broad, strong, and intimidating in the best way. 

A drunk passerby knocks into her, spilling droplets of a drink onto her clean plum colored poncho. She nearly sends them flying to the other side of the street with one hit. Her movement reveals a metal arm that shines under the light. It is a magnificent piece of machinery that you want to look at up close. Her voice echoes through the streets — angry, brash, but somehow still so sultry. 

She’s perfect. 

You want her—no. You need her. She is the perfect woman to give you what you’ve been desperately craving. Your insides turn to mush as you gaze at the goddess you crave more than air itself. She looks like she could tear you apart. That’s not a compliment many people can earn. 

You take a step forward but freeze when instinct alerts you to the presence of another right behind you. They reach for your shoulder, but you are faster. In the blink of an eye, you spin around, unsheathing your belt knife with ease. Fire blazes in your eyes as you lunge, pinning the shadow to the grimy wall. The neon lights illuminate your opponent right before you slit their throat. 

“Vi?” You question, cocking your head in confusion. The two of you had yet to formally meet, but her presence at the Council meeting left a lasting impression on you. When this adventure was complete, you’d made a mental note to inquire about her further, as she was the closest connection to the Hextech-wielding Jinx. But it seems the universe has brought her to you. 

“Who the hell are you? And why is a council rat wannabe sticking her nose down here? Haven’t you done enough for this city?” Vi questions aggressively, bucking against your grip and constantly trying to regain control. But your hold is firm. Her brawn is admirable, but your technique overrides her desperation. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been in this city for less than 48 hours, and I’m simply a relative of a Council Member. And a friend of the Kiramman’s, as of last night. I’m not your enemy.” You try, very well aware of the fact that this woman could become a threat at any moment. And that your position adjacent to the council made you an immediate enemy to her.

“Last night? You know what—actually—I don’t care. Let me go before I break your precious little hand.” Vi snarls, her pale blue eyes boring into you with a mixture of fear, discomfort, and surprise. You hold the knife on her for a moment longer, cutting into her skin to draw a small droplet of blood. Just a reminder that you could kill her, and as a silent warning not to touch you again.                  

Her snarl remains as she rubs her aching wrist and staunches the small bleed. You cannot help but chuckle at her ferocity. Like a fussy puppy. To the average person, her obvious strength might be intimidating, but you are not average. When you look up at a man like Rictus every day of your life and spar with a strategic genius, a certain level of resistance begins to grow. She is a pretty thing, though. 

You release her reluctantly, twirling the knife in a trick before putting it away. “Do you go around attacking every person you deem ill-suited to visit your precious Undercity? Or have you just chosen to harass me today?” You question, glancing around you once more at the dismal surroundings to ensure she is alone. You wouldn’t put it past her to ambush a council member’s relative for more information. 

The place has a certain undeniable charm. Grungy but full of life and personality. That charm is background noise however, the moment you glance at that goddess once more—just to find her looking right back at you. Her glare makes you weak in the knees. 

You turn back to Vi. “I’m not going to stand here with you all night. I’d be happy to help you continue whatever it is you were stomping around here doing—

“—I never said—I don’t know if you’d exactly blend in with my mission. You’ll only draw more attention.” 

“Fine. You wouldn’t happen to have a spare set of magically stylish street rat wear?” You snark, earning a flare from Vi that only amuses you. “I thought not…I’m going to continue my business. I’ll see you around, Violet…try not to need my assistance.” You say, looking at the shorter woman with a challenge in your eyes. As you try to move away, she grabs your arm. Your glare grows, and you barely resist the urge to push her back. 

“You should go home,” Vi warns, genuine concern cropping up in her eyes. “You’ll only get yourself hurt by staying here. You’re inviting trouble.” 

“Oh, darling, are you worried about me?” You chuckle, tilting your head to look down at Vi with more curiosity. You lean in close enough to smell the fading floral perfume on her adorably ratty hoodie. It smells of the Kiramman household. She flushes. 

“You need to worry about yourself. A Kiramman playing unsanctioned detective with an Undercity thug will surely catch some unwanted attention and land you in a dangerous situation. You’ll need my help getting out of this bind long before I need yours. Good Night, Violet.” You state with a sly smirk, watching and dissecting every microexpression flashing through Vi’s face as she reels from your words. She lets you go. 

You step away from the pink-haired young woman and make your way toward the towering goddess whose mere presence calls to you. 

It is clear you’ve intrigued Vi in some way, but not enough to pull her away from whatever mission she found herself on this evening. That was fine. For tonight, you had your own mission. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

The goddess moves into the sketchy-looking bar the closer you get, but by some luck, the bouncers sense either an easy target or enough of a threat to let you by without questioning. Their eyes linger on you in more morbid curiosity than anything. They want to see how fast you’d fall into trouble. 

As soon as you sit at the bar —as close as you can get to where she sits, gambling in some card game—you are swarmed by idiots of all shapes and sizes. 

On one hand, you can’t blame them. Though Medarda war triumphs and brutality were the prevailing legacy, the beauty and enchanting nature of the Medarda women have long since been the source of myths and sonnets. Although in this bar you were nothing more than a rich-looking girl with a pretty face, something drew them to you like a moth to a flame. 

She glances toward you, that blasted cigarillo—whose herbaceous scent informs you it was not just tobacco—hanging from her beautifully plump lips. She doesn’t move an inch, taking your predicament in with a resigned frustration. Like she’s waiting until the last moment to step in as if that was a given—that you can’t handle yourself. If only she knew. 

The first man who dares graze his greasy paw at your inner thigh loses his hand within seconds. It is quite unfortunate. Your drakehound hilted blade moves with a clean swing. The blood that will surely stain Mel’s cloak and be a pain for the cleaner to get out. It will leave a terrible impression on the staff, and your dear sister will be less than pleased. But it’s a hazard of your occupation. His panicked screams fill the bar, mingling with the thumping pulse of the music. His hand flops to the ground with a thunk and is lost in the crowd as an eager partygoer kicks it too far. 

He lunges at you out of sheer frustration and pain, and you evade him instantly—not taking your eyes off the woman. She is barely paying attention to the cards before her, but not a single person at that table dared to question her. The unspoken power she wields intrigues you to no end. You want her to use it on you. To bend you to her will for the night and leave you limping back to the responsibilities that threaten to overwhelm you. 

When he tries to grab for you again, with a quick maneuver, you send his face into the hard bar top. His bones crunch beneath the force of your hands; you let him go once unconsciousness sinks him to the ground. With a huff, you check your manicure—just for show. But you can feel the way she continues to watch you. She chuckles at your display. 

A few of your victims’ buddies finally catch on to the fact that one of their own is down, and they crowd you in a tirade of angry yelling. The bartender arrives with your drink just in time, and the thrill of the fight guides you to down the drink in two gulps—before smashing the glass against the nearest goon’s head. 

The swift wildfire of a fight never ceases to invigorate you. It never ceases to make you feel at home. The world around you is chaos—beautiful chaos, in all its glory. 

You pull your blades back into your grip in tandem—and an excited smile twists your pretty lips. It’s impossible to push down. This bar brawl was no real testament to the damage you wanted to wreak just for the hell of it. Just to show off to that brooding goddess, whose gaze grows more heated as she anticipates the fight. 

There is not a hint of hesitation in your body as you gleefully slice and dice your way through the growing crowd of opponents.

The group of harassers dwindles as the nearest assailant stumbles to stay on his feet, reeling from the impact of the glass to his head—leaving you ample opportunity to kick him back down into the world of the unconscious, along with his buddy, with a well-placed kick. 

The next man reaches for your neck and gets a blade through his forearm for the trouble. He, too, lets out a surprisingly girlish scream that makes you chuckle. You move with brutal precision, devastating power in every blow—just as you had been taught. You rip the blade back out of his arm, wiping the blade off quickly with his shirt, before sending him backward and into the crowd with a powerful kick. Your steel-clawed boot will most likely leave a bruise on him. 

The commotion of the fight causes random people to get shoved, and their irritation leads to mindless aggression—giving you all the more reason to stretch your muscles. You let loose on every person who aggresses toward you. Non-fatal attacks that inflict maximum debilitating damage—no need for death in this place, at least not until after you got what you wanted. You don’t pummel innocent bystanders, but those who make a move against you regret it. 

Hand-to-hand combat was once your hobby. That well-rounded training style serves you well in moments like these. You take down nearly a dozen men without breaking a sweat before you feel her presence lumbering up to you. She scowls down at you and grabs your arm with just enough force to keep you still. 

“You’re trouble.” She growled, though the slight smirk on her face gave away her true feelings. Your stomach flutters with anticipation. Her low voice penetrates past the hustle and bustle of the surrounding fight. 

“I am. Why don’t you set me straight?” You tease, still panting from the fights—adrenaline pumping through you as you shake from the high of it. She responds with a grumble before pulling you up toward a staircase. She pushes you to walk forward, though the tight grip she keeps on your arm reminds you not to move out from where she guides. Like you wanted to move away from her in any way.

You want to drown in her. As she drags you up the stairs, her spicy perfume hits your nose. It’s some heavenly mixture of sandalwood, some set of spices you could not name, and smoke. Her quiet, easy dominance is intoxicating—and you barely register the way she throws you into a small room and slams the door behind her. 

She’s pissed, but there’s a glimmer of something delicious in her eyes that makes you shiver. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I should be dragging you out of here by your broken arms for starting a fight like that. You’re obviously lost.” She says, her voice low and warm like strong whiskey. 

“I’m not lost. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy watching that fight. I put on a show just for you.” You tease, batting your eyelashes and looking up at her as she stalks forward. 

“Where are you from?” 

“Does it really matter? I will only be here for a few short nights. Why waste the time we have together with complications?” You say, trying to remind the woman that you were not permanent and that if she wanted you, she needed to stop asking questions that had complex answers. You look up at her with the heat of a thousand suns blazing in your eyes. 

“It does matter. I need to know what kind of trouble I’ll be in for fucking the daughter of whatever kind of councilmember or politician your Daddy is.” She says, taking a hit of her blunt as she sits down on the bed. “Plus, I can hear your accent. You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. Piltovan is clearly not your first language.” Her legs were spread wide, commanding the space around her and leaving no room for you. Until you answer her question. 

The Noxian accent was a subtle thing, but hard to rid yourself of. The Medarda family specifically managed to maintain some of their Shuriman roots woven into the accent they all shared. How Mel managed rid herself of it, you never understood, but years of training under your mother’s tutelage gave you her accent, in addition to your combat skills. Va-Nox is a harsh language; Piltovan is so unnatural to your hardened tongue.

You sigh. “I am from Noxus. Here on business.” You explain. Sevika whistles. 

“Noxus…Damn, you’re far from home, huh? That wasn't hard, though, was it, sweetheart?” She says, moving closer to you with a heavy gait that draws your eye to the V-shape of her pelvis, and the trail of hair that teases you.

“I don’t normally share such information. But it seems you’ve enchanted me. I only came into this shitty bar for you, ya know.” You admit, the drink is catching up to you for a moment and bolstering your courage. 

The woman snorts. 

“Is that so? What’s your name?” 

You shouldn’t. Giving her your first name could lead this one-night stand into dangerous territory. This place was dangerous. There were criminals at every corner, and despite no major dealings coming to mind—surely someone would know of your family here. You could easily become a target within moments…but you want to trust her. 

“Liya. What’s yours?” 

“Sevika…Nice to meet you.” She says, walking forward, and gripping your chin in a rough hold before she tilts you to look up. She leans down and presses a dominating, lush kiss to your lips that makes you moan. 

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

Her lips feel so good against yours, so plump and demanding. She tastes of tobacco, the liquor she’d sipped on during her game, and the curious, bitter berry taste of her lipstick. There is something earthy and addictive beneath it all that makes you weak in the knees, and euphoria sails through you as she leans down to pick you up. 

“Can I touch you, baby?” She whispers into your mouth between wet kisses. You moan into another kiss and nod. 

“Please.” You whisper, reaching to unbuckle the thick belt wrapped around her criminally defined waist. Her flesh hand stops you, and at the immediate indignant sigh, she shushes you with her plump lips. 

“Stop that sweet thing, I’ll take care of you. I just need to know what you want before you start stripping me.” Sevika says with a smirk. She looks you up and down one good time before throwing you onto the bed with just enough roughness. When you bounce too far away, she grabs you by the leg and hauls you closer—you glide easily on the surprise silk sheets in her bed. A squeal almost escapes you, but you force yourself to giggle instead and let your legs fall open. 

“I want you to drive me to insanity. Fuck me until I can’t think, Sevika—I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I laid my eyes on you.” You admit in a whisper, arching your back into her touch as her large hands caress your torso—stopping to play with your waist bead—and trail back up to undo your top. 

You let her unzip you and watch with glee as her grey eyes darken with lust at the sight of your lace-covered body. It’s a treat to yourself, wearing such frivolous things beneath your fighting gear. Something so pretty, with a high chance of being stained with blood. 

“You’re divine.” She murmurs, a low chuckle falling from her lips. “I should have known you’d be dressed up for me. No way a rich girl like you wouldn’t.” She says, pressing soft kisses down from your lips to your chest, stopping to swirl her tongue around your nipple. A soft moan spills from your lips as Sevika flicks it with her tongue, sucking it into her mouth—driving you crazy. 

She moves her thick thigh between your legs as she plays, giving you some sort of friction. Her touch makes you melt, and you tug at her pants again, this time grinding up against the woman in a desperate bid for her touch. 

Your eagerness brings a satisfied smirk to her face, and she releases your nipple with a pop before trailing back up to taste your lips. Her kisses are making you dizzy with desire, and the wetness threatening to paint Sevika’s leg feels like the best torture.

“I can feel how wet you are, baby. Can I taste?” She questions against your lips, her flesh hand reaching down to swirl between your slick folds over your soaked panties, circling your clit with precision. A soft moan escapes your lips. 

“Please.” You whisper, your legs shaking as she presses a kiss to your neck and slowly reaches under the band of your lacy panties to play with your wetness. You’re so pent up and ready, she does not hesitate to insert a thick finger. Your back arches as she fills you perfectly, pumping it inside you with gentle concentration, swirling and thrusting in perfect combination to warm you up. 

Her lips trail from your open lips, down to your neck, your chest, further and further down until she reaches the shaved curls between your thighs. With ease, Sevika lifts your legs up onto her shoulders. 

She groans as she comes closer to your soaking pussy. The scent of your arousal makes her lick her lips. They kiss the insides of your thighs, trailing up until she presses a sweet kiss to your lower lips. 

“You smell delicious. Thank you for this baby, I can’t wait to hear you scream.” She says, her words acting almost like a promise, before she removes her finger and licks up your cunt—moaning as your juices spill onto her tongue. She does not hesitate to drive you insane, moving between sucking your clit into her mouth and dipping her tongue into your wet heat. 

When it becomes clear you’re more pent up than she initially thought, Sevika dips her middle finger and ring finger back inside, with a sinful wet sound that makes you both groan. The moment she curls her fingers to press up against the perfect spot, you let out a delirious moan.

It would be embarrassing if you couldn’t feel the bass of the music vibrating the floorboards of this room, muffling the sounds of your ecstasy. No one can hear you, except her. And it is clear by the wild look in her eyes, Sevika enjoys every tortured whimper and moan falling from your lips as she fucks her fingers deeper inside you. They stretch you perfectly. 

“Sevikaaa, feels so good.” You moan deliriously, hands reaching down to grip her dark hair. You’re not kidding, it’s been a while since you’ve taken a lover and her thick fingers are satisfying parts of you forgotten to the stress of life. But just as you imagined when seeing her first on the stoop of this bar, she’s taking you to places—breaking you apart—in the best of ways. 

She simply grunts at your words, but you see the slight satisfaction at your praise. You can feel it pressed against you skin. She increases the pressure of her thrusts and releases your clit with a pop that makes your cunt squeeze around her fingers.

“You filthy girl, I felt that. You love watching me get dirty for you, don’t you? Fuck you’re so pretty.” Sevika murmurs, pausing from her tasting to watch you squirm. Her fingers curl again, siphoning a sweet moan from your lips. 

“Yes. More ‘vika, please.” You whine, eyes rolling to the back of your head as she pounds into your G-spot. 

Her thick fingers are sending you headfirst into an orgasm that is likely to kill you, based on the fierce pleasure climbing up your spine. You can’t hear or see a damn thing; your legs are shaking— there’s nothing but Sevika. The steady thrusts that hit the right spot every time, the sudden return of her tongue thrashing against your clit. You would happily let this be the last thing you feel. 

As the fluttering begins, a throaty moan rips from your lips in a higher pitch than you’d ever heard from yourself. With any other lover, the sound would have pulled you from the fantasy instantly, but it’s easy to give yourself over to Sevika.

 You writhe in ecstasy, tears streaming down your cheeks as Sevika hums in satisfaction. You grip Sevika’s hair tightly in your hands as you cum so hard your vision blacks out. Stars flash across your vision. 

She is ruthless, working you through it with brutal precision—it’s like she knows your body better than you do. Her strong metal arm holds your hips down as you squirm and buck against the pleasure. 

Even after your orgasm subsides, she works and works, finally letting your clit free from her hot mouth but still pumping her fingers. She reaches up to press a messy kiss to your lips. 

Tasting yourself, while still tasting Sevika’s lips, is heaven. You whimper into her mouth when she has the nerve to add another finger, but it’s like she can read your mind. You still need more; without words, she has managed to fulfill your every desire.  

She works you through another harsh orgasm before easing out of you. The feeling of emptiness makes you whimper as your legs fall apart to let her free. She presses a kiss to your lower tummy, right below the beads other lovers ignored, and rubs her flesh hand sweetly against your skin. 

“You did such a good job, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me.” Sevika murmurs, looking up at you with an odd mixture of gratitude and amusement. It makes you tremble even worse before you pull yourself together. 

“Thank you…I don’t know if I’ve ever been fucked like that.” You admit with a slight heating of your cheeks. Sevika chuckles at your shyness. 

“Nobody does it like me, baby. But you…you brought something out of me. I think that fight—as reckless as it was—got me hot…Where’d you learn to fight like that?” She questions, plopping back down on the bed as if she didn’t just eat you out so well you saw stars. She reaches onto the bedside table and pulls out a case of what looks to be a handful of pre-rolled blunts.   

“I—before we make pleasantries…would you like me to do anything for you? I’m quite good with my hands.” You promise, reaching for her and moving your lithe body with the intent to seduce. But Sevika quickly and gently shoots you down with a shy smile that reveals an adorable gap between her front teeth. The urge to kiss her again becomes almost unbearable, but you compose yourself. 

“Thanks, honey, but I’m good for now. I uh…I was satisfied by pleasing you. I promise.” She says, an underlying meaning to her words that lets you know there’s more to the story. The slight embarrassment on her face is adorable. 

“How exactly does that work when I have vivid memories of your flesh fingers inside me…you have a thing for metal?” You tease, voice still husky from overuse.

“No doll, I had a backup plan.” She says with a chuckle, pulling up a pillow with a visible wet spot from the floor before settling up against the headboard and popping the blunt in her mouth. 

Before she can light it herself, you take the initiative, taking the ornate lighter from her hands and gracefully bringing the flame to the end. The burning scent of the flower lulls you into giving in to the need for rest. After such a thorough fucking, getting a little high sounds perfect. 

She opens her arm, motioning for you to come closer. 

“C’mere—you want some of this?” She says after exhaling a large puff of smoke. You nod and give in to the desire to be close to her again. Curling up into her side is easy, and the way she wraps around you—the perfect mix of strength and warmth—makes tears burn in your eyes for a reason you do not want to unpack right now. She holds the blunt to your lips and lets you take a nice, long hit before taking one herself. “You gonna answer my question?” 

“…I’ve trained to fight since I was young. I’m a soldier— have been since I was a teenager. War is a family business.” You say, keeping it as vague as possible. Sevika is most likely some high-ranking criminal based on what you observed downstairs. The way she commanded the room, before you disrupted the peace. The way no one near her dared to so much as breathe until she made a move. Surely she had enough wherewithal to connect some dots if given too much information.

And who knows how this sweet interaction could switch in the drop of a hat. The feeling of Sevika’s strong arm draped over your waist is something you could get used to. But it is also a reminder that she could take you down by the merit of that metal arm if needed. 

“I see, so that’s why these are here.” She comments, tracing her flesh hand down the scars on your arms and back. She seems to sense your unease as she dips closer to the runes on your back. The touch moves away. 

“Those came before the war…but they feed it to this day.” 

“What do they mean?” 

“I have no idea. But I plan to find out…I suspect you might be able to help me with that. Do you have any associates who would know such a language?” You question, tipping your head to look up at her. 

“I could make some calls, ask around…but I’ve got a life, princess. I can’t go dropping everything to help some pretty damsel with her tragic backstory.” 

“As you clearly saw, I am no damsel. I only need a name.” You say, lifting your head from her chest to look down at her. As your eyes meet, you deftly steal the blunt from her flesh hand and take a long hit. She glares at you, but the burgeoning smirk pulling at her plump lips lets you know your toying is working. “I’m sure you can afford to give me a single name—I have no ties here. Surely I can’t do much damage.” You say, batting your eyes.  

Sevika snatches the blunt back with a playful smirk. “You took out half the bar without breaking a sweat.. As a matter of fact, with a smile on your face. I know better than to think you’re some Noxian footsoldier sweetheart.” Sevika says with a laugh of her own. “…war has been my business for a while, too, I guess you could say. I can clear a room like nobody’s business, but there’s something intense about the way you fight. If you’re ever in need of a gig—

A hearty laugh falls from your lips before you can stop it. The thought of you taking on the position of a bouncer at this establishment was hilarious. 

You—the heir to the Medarda legacy, a deadly decorated soldier with a thriving weapons manufacturing business out of Bel’zhun, the Bloodthirst Cub of Noxus, working as a bouncer. Not only that, but a bouncer in some bar in the Undercity of Piltover. 

You quickly attempt to assuage any offense incited by the flippant laughter.  “I apologize. I did not mean to lose control of myself. I just…cannot see myself doing such a thing. No offense. I have quite a busy schedule while I’m in town…but I’m sure I can think of other ways to coax the information out of you.” You whisper, lips trailing over Sevika’s neck, leaving behind hints of your honey lip balm.

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

She surrenders to your touch for the next few minutes, allowing you to peruse and caress her strong body. It makes you giddy to be atop her, given the chance to explore and give back to her—if only for a few brief moments. Before long, you both sense that your time has come to an end.

Sevika must return to work at some point; the night only grows more dangerous. And you must leave before Mel suspects something. Leaving to do reconnaissance was one thing, but drawing attention to yourself on your first real day in this city was shameful. With one last long, tempting kiss, you part ways. 

And as you slip out of the Last Drop, a scrap of paper is deposited into your pocket. A name and an address for one Madam Margot scrawled in elegant, bold cursive. She was an apparent secret liaison of a popular Piltovian merchant who may hold the answers you seek. A solid start to your revenge journey. 

AN: The last chapter flopped on here, but I'm not surprised, lmao. We've finally met Sevika! And there's a small Vi cameo, which was fun to write. It made sense for her to be running around and bumping into us before the plot starts to thicken. I'm rusty at writing and editing smut, so I hope it was good. Also there is a masterlist for this fic now, check that out if you've missed any chapters or want to re-read. See you soon for the next chapter ♡

Masterlist

Taglist: @beggingonherknees, @planettorzor, @riotstemple29 , @djena1d , @lupitasvm , @kinkyglutsfairy, @saerenee