Send me  “HC”  + a word and I’ll write a headcanon about it.  --- not accepting @trifarix​ said: hc + attachment

     He has never been very skilled at letting go.

     Kill your father and cut your heart and burn your people to ash, boy, surely that will be enough to shuck off the mantle of humanity which shall plague him forever. Throw this empire of the damned which you have grown to love so much to the teeth and swords of your southern enemies, for in this way is he exorcising himself of the last vestiges of affection, connection. Let everything fall until you are all that remains, and then build something new from the ashes around you.

              𝑆𝐻𝐸   𝐾𝑁𝐸𝑊   𝐻𝐼𝑆   𝑇𝑌𝑃𝐸.      Utterly   rooted   into   a   cause,   perhaps   was   even   raised   by   it,   to   the   point   where   it   made   up   every   drop   of   blood   and   thread   of   muscle   in   their   being.      Each   action,   each   word,   each   step   ━  All   given   for   one   calling.      Sasha   knew   this   well   because   that   who   she,   too,   was   this .  .  .  To   an   extent.      She,   a   child   of   Zaun,   on   the   run   from   the   very   corruptions   she   𝑆𝑂𝑈𝐺𝐻𝑇   𝑇𝑂   𝑆𝑁𝑈𝐹𝐹   𝑂𝑈𝑇   𝐼𝑁   𝑇𝐻𝐸   𝑈𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅𝐶𝐼𝑇𝑌.      Having   given   blood   and   death   until   the   evils   of   the   city   all   converged   at   on   her   at   once.      Yet   this   is   where   they,   Sasha   and   Darius,   were   not   the   same.      He   taken   into   a   cause   that   sought   to   seize   and   absorb   all   others.      Accepting   the   willing,   smothering   the   unwilling   and   the   weak  ;  for   Noxus.      It   was   the   difference   in   their   chosen   burden   that   made   the   manhunter   and   the   Hand   of   Noxus   seemingly   worlds   apart.      Or,   at   the   very   least,   𝑀𝐴𝐷𝐸   𝐻𝐸𝑅   𝐷𝐸𝐴𝐹   𝑇𝑂   𝑁𝑂𝑋𝐼𝐴𝑁   𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑃𝐴𝐺𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴.

Holding his head down in shame as he’s forced to walk with Noxian soldiers to meet their Commander, Varus mentally curses himself for getting caught so easily. He’d gotten carried away with slaughtering the mortals here in Barhl; and as a result was surrounded. Unfortunately, he was unable to fight off the brutish warriors before he was overwhelmed- As soon as his bow had been taken, he’d know fighting back was a lost cause- but that didn’t stop him from struggling.

He knew that going on a frenzy when it came to eradicating people was unwise. It’s why he typically only hunted down one or two at a time, and typically hid who he was; in the off chance that someone would recognize him as darkin, and knew of the darkin wars. Although he had allowed his pride get the best of him, believing that he’d be able to handle such a situation.

Internally, he was angry at the ones currently around him. If they hadn’t taken his bow, he wouldn’t have been in this position. Not only was he stuck with a wounded body, he had no way of knowing where it was, nor if he’d ever see it again- that is, until his current host’s body was killed- and he could gain a new vessel. His host, Kai, was currently berating him for not backing out of the fight sooner, he could have definitely played that smarter, and as a result he was paying this price.

Bloody and tired, the darkin walked with a limp in his step. He’d not been broken, no, not yet. The little energy he had was currently being used to repair what it could of his wounds, thoroughly exhausting him. Every step he took was accompanied with a pained grunt as his one of his legs threatened to collapse under him.

That is until he finally arrives before the fabled Hand of Noxus, clenching his jaw as he looks up to him: scowling at the general with a look that could kill, practically hissing,

              𝐼𝑇   𝐻𝐴𝐷   𝐵𝐸𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸   𝐴𝑁   𝐴𝐿𝑀𝑂𝑆𝑇   𝑅𝐸𝐺𝑈𝐿𝐴𝑅   𝑂𝐶𝐶𝑈𝑅𝑅𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸,   these   negotiations   between   the   Ránvard   people   and   the   Noxian   ambassadors.      Many   times   had   foreign   powers   attempted   to   bring   the   Ránvardr   into   their   fold.      Either   through   diplomacy   or   through   conquest   to   no   avail.      The   latter   more   obvious   by   the   scores   of   wrecked   ships   scattered   throughout   the   jagged   rocks   and   beaches   outlying   the   city-state.      Still,   it   seemed   this   ancient   graveyard   𝐻𝐴𝐷   𝐷𝑂𝑁𝐸   𝐿𝐼𝑇𝑇𝐿𝐸   𝑇𝑂   𝐷𝐸𝑇𝐸𝑅   𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑆𝐸   𝑁𝐸𝑊   “ 𝐺𝑈𝐸𝑆𝑇𝑆 ”   that   so   boldly   set   foot   upon   the   Ránvardr‘s   isolated   shores.      Yet   instead   of   some   silver-tongued   diplomat,   it   was   someone   more   fitting.      The   so-called   “Hand   of   Noxus,”   the   mightiest   warrior   to   rise   from   the   ever-expanding   empire   across   the   seas.      Better   a   fighter   speak   with   Borghild’s   kin   than   a   talker,   at   least.      It   was   more   tolerable   that   way.

Oh well, that's one way to confirm it.

Leblanc is not The Faceless.

Sure, we might have seen her bust pic on Legends of Runeterra, and she represented Guile, but that can't confirm anything. The picture can just represent the meaning of principalities of Trifarix, and they use Leblanc as an example because she is associated with it.