Caitlyn Kiramman pinched two fingers at the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes against the rising flood of stress behind them.
Cawing gulls and the whistles of Wardens keeping the stickybeaking public at bay stole any sense of peace she might have found from the ambience of the lapping waters of the Pilt.
"Deputy," she said oh-so-sweetly, "Would you care to explain to me, one more time, how we have found ourselves in this present circumstance?"
Before her, on what remained of the front steps of the warehouse, sat two battered, bloodied figures; Ezreal, tipped back on a stretcher with field medics working on his leg and hand, glanced anxiously at his gauntlet as if he were weighing up whether to sacrifice the urgently needed medical attention for the sake of blipping out of the arc of Caitlyn's withering stare. Vi, grinning between mashed lips and the cold steak she was holding over her swollen cheek, barely wincing as they cleaned and bandaged her slashed hip and shoulder.
Her smirk did fade somewhat at 'Deputy'. Vi was accustomed to various shades and flavors of Vi and Violet from Caitlyn, some tender, some stern, but Deputy rarely boded well, and the look on her face said she knew it.
"Okay Cait, so, the good news is that I won the fight-"
Caitlyn took a step back as her people wheeled another covered body past her.
"Evidently."
"-and rescued the kidnap victim-"
"Hi," croaked Ez, lifting his unwounded hand, "That's me, I think..."
"...and the bad news," Vi amended with a chagrined look, "Is that one asshole got away...so, good day's work, right?"
"No, Deputy," said Caitlyn, "The bad news is that I am looking at four dead bodies-"
"Well, kinda three-and-two-halves..." said Ezreal, raising a fingertip, then paling at Cait's glare, "T-though-okay-Vi-didn't-have-anything-to-do-with-that-one-"
He glanced across to the armored wagon in which their single captured suspect sat, his broad shoulders taking up the space of two lesser men, his steely silence and stare at Ezreal cutting across the air between them as though the bars of the wagon meant nothing.
The grey-cloaked swordsman had surrendered to the Wardens without giving fight, but he didn't look like a man defeated.
"...One person of interest captured. Four deceased suspects," said Caitlyn, through the faint clench of her teeth, "And one who may be able to be interviewed, should he regain consciousness, and should you have left him enough jaw to speak..."
Vi opened her mouth and then shut it again and looked sidelong at Ez, shaking her head, effectively shutting his as well.
"...and we are dredging the Pilt for the sixth, and any sign of the last, the one you claimed got away."
"And my gauntlet," mourned Vi, with a sigh.
"Yes, and our Atlas gauntlet," Jayce Talis' voice cut in, as he stepped up beside Caitlyn, shaking his head, "Hello, Cait." His already forced smile died completely, "Vi."
"Hey, Prettyboy. Looks like I'm on your shitlist again."
Jayce sighed, bit back whatever he was about to retort and leaned close to Caitlyn.
"I've made a statement to the gazetteers," he muttered, "That'll be enough to buy you some time with the Piltover Explorer but I expect the Sungate Morning Herald will cook up whatever sensationalist nonsense they want. You're going to want to wrap this up. And wrap it tight."
He glanced at the hulking form in the wagon.
"If they get a whiff of that they'll spin a fine yarn out of it, to go with the one in this morning's issue about feathered dragons seen circling the Hall of Law. If you're following me."
"I understand, Jayce," Caitlyn said softly, "Thank you."
He gave a glare at Vi and a forlorn look at Mechanist Zevi's team, carrying the remaining Atlas past, still clutching a segmented petricite whip-sword wrapped around its locked knuckles.
Vi shrugged and adjusted the press of the steak over her eye.
"Hey," she said, pointing to the foreign weapon, "I got you evidence."
"You got us a diplomatic incident!" Jayce shot back, "You're seriously suggesting a Demacian agent was involved with kidnapping..."
A thumb stabbed at Ezreal, "...him?"
"I'm feeling a distinct sense of disrespect, Councilman," said Ezreal, "Or maybe it's just me."
"It's just you-" said Caitlyn and Vi at the same time, before Caitlyn rounded on her partner with a sharp furrow of her brows that had often sent grown men taking a step back...
Unfortunately, she knew Vi found it, in her own words, 'hot'.
"A moment, if you please."
"Sure," Jayce said, smirking at Vi as he did, "Take your time. I'll just be over here helping Zevi untangle an anti-magic weapon from my priceless Hextech prototype..."
As he spoke, a shout came from the waterline; a large, mechanical salvage-arm overseen by several dock workers raised from the Pilt, water sloughing off the glowing, flickering Atlas gauntlet, pulled up choked in mud and riverweed.
"...and picking fish out of its partner. If you'll excuse me."
Vi blew a what's his problem whistle at his back as he strode away and turned back to Caitlyn. The cheekiness in her expression dropped away at seeing her partner's face.
"Yeah," she sighed, "I know, it'll come out of my pay..."
"Violet," Caitlyn said quietly.
"...Cupcake?"
I love your stupid face and your stupid smirk even when you drive me insane. I hate every time you come back to me bloody like this, because one day I'm afraid it'll be on a stretcher, or in a bag...
"I'm glad you're still with us," Caitlyn flickered a smile. Tender and tiny, her heart on her lips.
Vi smiled back. That warm, warm smile that could be so soft or so charming or so cocky by turns, even with lips split and swollen as they were now.
"I wasn't goin' anywhere, but yeah, me too."
Caitlyn's smile faltered slightly. She breathed out through her nostrils, and gathered her thoughts, and her collected poise.
"That doesn't change that you were incredibly reckless. And you killed two suspects, possibly more, all foreign nationals on Piltovan soil...there cannot be no consequences for that, Vi, you know that-"
"Yeah," Vi said, looking at her feet, "I do."
"What on all Valoran were you thinking?"
"Uh, that there were seven of them and one of me, and they're all trained killers armed to the teeth-"
"Yes! Which is why we have protocols. Why Wardens call for backup-"
"Cait, they were torturing him," Vi began, her voice catching a little gravel, "I could hear him screaming-"
"So, you just ran in on your own? Without a plan?"
"Yeah, uh, my plan was take 'em out, save Ez. You don't wait for shit like that, cuz it ain't gonna wait for you-"
Caitlyn bit her lip and scowled, and Vi's own brows knit, stormy, uncertain, and maybe a little hurt. She cut off her sentence and stared at her feet again.
"Hey," Ezreal cleared his throat and cut in, "Uh, look I don't want to intrude into private conversation but- hear me out."
Caitlyn turned her gaze on him full blast, but, to her surprise, Ezreal just looked back at her, more serious than she'd ever seen him.
"I would've been screwed if Vi hadn't shown up. She saved my life, Cait. That's all."
"Oh, is it?"
"You wan'me to talk, tell you everything about the crazy asshole who f-fried me with lightning?" he hesitated, slurring his words a little from the painkillers– "Or the one th-that screwed up my hand and stabbed me in the leg? I'll give you full account soon as whatever chems your medic guys gave me wear off..."
He hesitated only a little as he lifted his hazed eyes back to hers.
"...Vi deserves a medal, not an earful. She saved my ass. She's my big damn freakin' hero."
Vi blinked at him and turned to look at him, opening and closing her mouth for a moment before coughing under her breath.
"Ez...uh, thanks, man."
"Dun mention it, officer," he smiled weakly back at her.
"I haven't even started on you, Ezreal," Caitlyn pursed her lips and shook her head, "Clear self-defense, but you still took a life today."
He winced, but she wasn't done.
"...With an unlicensed arcane device, I'll add. And, quite clearly, you know more about Luxanna than you're letting on. We're going to talk about that, as soon as you're feeling up to it..."
Ez looked up at her sadly and shook his head.
"No. Sorry, Cait. But no."
She tipped hers.
"No?"
"Can't," he said, laying his head back against the stretcher and swallowing. "Gave my word."
Caitlyn paused, surveying him shrewdly.
"There's no shame in it, Ezreal, you were under terrible duress..."
"I didn't tell them," he said, fever-eyed, between clenched teeth, "I didn't tell those bastards anything. So I can't tell you. I won't let them near her. I gave my word."
"Your word? To Luxanna?"
He shook his head. "To me."
"Ez," Vi said softly, when she got over gaping at him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this shit, and I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner. But we're trying to help Lux. Anything you can tell us that might get us there, that's a start."
"I can't tell you," he said, "Nothing you don't know already. You know who she's with. I don't know why. That's all."
"...damnit. You did see her that night, didn't you?" Vi muttered, "Why did you lie to me, man?"
Ezreal stubbornly closed his lips and stared up at the sky.
"Because," Caitlyn said, her eyes suddenly and sharply narrowing, "...she told you not to follow her. Didn't she, Ezreal?"
He stiffened, ever-so-slightly, but said nothing. Caitlyn nodded, reached over, and took his unhurt hand in hers.
"She's lucky to have a friend like you," she said, and didn't miss the swell of his throat as he swallowed, or the moisture at the corners of his eyes.
She left him with the medics and gestured for Vi to follow her. She waited for Vi, as she limped into her familiar pace at Cait's side, until they were alone, walking slowly across the scene toward the wagon – and their prisoner.
"Don't go too hard on Ez," said Vi, "He's a good kid. And those assholes put him through the ringer."
"Don't worry, darling. I've got to keep up appearances or he'll turn insufferable," Caitlyn gave a wry smile, "But he's growing on me."
"Heh," said Vi, "Me too. Damnit."
"He and Lux have this much in common; they're trouble magnets. Noxian mercenaries? In Piltover?" Caitlyn muttered, "With a mage? And a Demacian agent, somehow working together? Are you certain you can't be mistaken?"
"Trust me," Vi said, and stopped, rummaging in her hip pocket before pushing part of a cracked, ornate mask into Caitlyn's hand, "I'm not."
Caitlyn stared at it.
"Vi," she whispered, "This is a Mageseeker's mask."
"Don't know much about 'em," Vi said, shaking her head, "But that tracks. That weird sword whip thing they had, and the shield...every damn time I got too close, it depowered my gauntlets. Just switched the Hextech off like..." she snapped her fingers, "...that."
"Petricite," Caitlyn groaned, "Now why in the bloody hell would a member of the Demacian mage-hunting secret police work with a mage from an enemy nation?"
"Lux," said Vi, with total conviction, "It's all about her. It's got to be their common ground. They just want her that badly, both sides are willing to grit their teeth."
"It seems so."
"That Mageseeker or whatever," Vi narrowed her eyes, "They said we were making a mistake, protecting Lux. That she'd bring ruin to Piltover. Some dramatic bullshit like that."
"I see," Caitlyn nodded, "That's...interesting."
"Demacians showing up at the Hall...that's not coincidence, is it?"
Caitlyn glanced sidelong at Vi. Her partner was unusually introspective for the moment, stormy brows knit, sucking blood from the cut on her lower lip.
"No," Caitlyn replied, "I very much think it is not."
Behind them, Amelia and Harknor were sweeping the scene for clues; their team furiously scribbling data as Harknor combed the site with a literal, albeit elaborate, magnifying glass.
The corpse-wagons had arrived to collect the bodies.
Caitlyn looked again at Vi, and fought the urge to cling to her and bury herself into strong arms and the sweat of her fight and reassure herself that she was there.
"You made a bloody mess of yourself," Caitlyn sighed instead.
Vi shrugged. "Still won, though."
"...I'm not happy that you killed those men, but I'm glad it was them and not you," Caitlyn paused, looking away again. "Does that make me a terrible officer? A bad person?"
"Uh, no?" Vi shrugged, "I can't tell you how to feel about it, Cait. I just...they were killing him in there, so I put my fists up and I did what I do. I'm sorry."
"Your gauntlets have non-lethal settings, Vi," Caitlyn said, a statement and a question in the same breath.
"Their weapons don't," said Vi, "First rule of a real fight, Cait. Don't give the other guy a chance to kill you first."
"...did Vander teach you that?"
"No. Stillwater did."
Caitlyn stopped. She breathed out very slowly.
"There are some days, Vi," she said solemnly, watching the body-bags being loaded into the wagons, bound for the Wardens' mortuary, "Where I feel like we're still Enforcers."
"Don't say that."
"I have to," Caitlyn shook her head, "I have to see it, if it's there. Don't you see that?"
"Cait."
"-the law didn't matter to them, especially as it applied to people outside of their definition of 'Piltovan citizens'. They'd put on a smiling face for topsiders, and then do whatever they wanted to undercity folk – and foreigners – and call it 'keeping the peace'."
"I know that, Cait. Better than anyone up here. And that isn't us."
"Isn't it? The moment I let myself act on what I want to happen, instead of what should happen, I'm back on that path. Justice has to be bigger than any one person's feelings..."
"Cupcake."
Vi stopped her with a hand against her chest and as serious a look as one could give from beneath a steak.
"Not all feelings are bad," she said, "You don't act out of hate, or spite, or cruelty. Not even..." she faltered, "Not even with her. You're trying to protect everyone you can, you don't care who they are, and you never lose sight of that. I'm doing my best too, okay?"
"I know, Vi," Caitlyn closed her eyes, "But that doesn't mean the line isn't there. We cannot afford to lose sight of it, or we risk becoming the thing we swore to end. Do you understand that?"
"I do, Cupcake," said Vi, letting her hand fall away. "I promise you. Just...don't forget that you being human is what makes you a good Sheriff, so don't lose sight of that, okay?"
Bloodied though she was, Cait fought the urge to kiss her. There were too many prying eyes, of course, but...
It was never easy not to kiss her.
Cait sniffed at her instead, "Honestly. A steak? Let the medics clean it, at least, and get rid of that thing. It's unhygienic."
"What? It's Vander's trick. Works better than anything else to keep swelling down. And smells better than the fish we'd use in the Lanes."
"It's still disgusting."
"Okay, look, after we get done talking to our mystery perp, I'll cook dinner, Cupcake. My treat."
Caitlyn stopped again and grimaced.
"Please don't tell me-"
"It's good meat! No need to waste it."
"No!"
"Medium rare," Vi grinned, "Your favorite."
"You are not cooking that! It's been on your face!"
"So have you."
Caitlyn's eyes flew wide and she snorted as she swatted at Vi's arm, "Professional, Violet."
"Hey, honesty and integrity, part of the Warden oath, right?"
Caitlyn rolled her eyes, "Do try to keep the rest of it in mind. We've an interrogation to attend."
Their footsteps had almost brought them to the wagon, and Caitlyn's curiosity about Ezreal's silent, hulking rescuer was a burning distraction from her fears and frustrations.
"Yeah," Vi mumbled, "So about that...shouldn't we at least take him to a holding cell?"
Caitlyn chewed her lip.
"I want to be certain of something first."
The man lifted his head as they circled into his field of vision, and Caitlyn's gaze settled on his square-jawed, haggard face.
She froze.
"Well met, Caitlyn," the man said quietly, with a faint, bitter curve of his lips, "Though 'tis under ill-starred circumstance. You seem hale."
"Garen Crownguard!?" slipped from her before she could rein in the shock, "What...how...are you in Piltover?"
His expression became a grimace. "A long and bitter tale," he gave a short, grim chuckle, and then softened his expression as he gazed up to the two of them, "Though I expect I've time to tell it."
He lifted his manacled wrists with a clink.
Vi widened her eyes as the name sunk in, "Huh? You're her br-"
Caitlyn subtly kicked Vi's shin as she stepped in front of her and cleared her throat.
"Shall we start at the end? Where you cut a man in half in broad daylight in the streets of my city?"
"Yeah, uh," Vi glanced at the back of Caitlyn's head for a moment, and then regarded their prisoner with a low whistle, "Buddy, subtle entrance, that wasn't."
Garen sighed under his breath, hanging his big hands in his lap between their shackles, and nodded.
"I regret my transgression against your laws, Cait. I accept full responsibility for any punishment deemed necessary. My duty does demand me beg one indulgence, ere the headsman be summoned-"
"Headsman?" Vi blinked, and Caitlyn's brows knit sharply.
"That is not how things are done here," Caitlyn said between gritted teeth, "There is a system. All evidence and circumstances will be weighed and taken into account before you are taken to trial for your actions." She shook her head, "Aspects, Garen, what were you thinking? The last I saw you, you were..."
"Younger," he smiled, "A fresh recruit to the Vanguard, at that time, with my head full of stories and my heart full of foolishness."
"You're the hero of Demacia," Caitlyn said, aghast, "Why commit a murder and accept a death-sentence here?"
"I do not fear death," he said, "Only the failure of my duty."
Caitlyn bit her tongue and turned away. Vi, glancing at their prisoner, huddled close to her and tilted her head.
"Shouldn't we be uh, doing this somewhere more private?"
"We can't, Vi," Caitlyn muttered, "We can't take him to the Hall."
"Huh? Why?"
"Our visitors."
Vi's eyes widened, "Oh, shit..."
"Given their state of entrance compared to his, it's clear to me they're not here together."
Vi nodded and rolled her bruised lower lip under her teeth for a moment, before clapping a hand on Caitlyn's shoulder.
"Gimme a moment with him."
She turned and paced back to the cage, before she crouched before their prisoner.
The seated man was so tall that Vi's squat didn't bring her to his eye level but forced her to look up to him.
"Okay," she said, "So you knew the risk, but you chopped the guy anyway, even though this sure as hell ain't your beat."
"...Telkus," Garen graveled quietly.
"What's that?"
"The knave I slew. A professional assassin, once in the employ of the Steward of Fallgren, recently turned mercenary. Jarro Lightfeather was a trigger-twitch from death. I regret the slaying not. Only the distress it causes your city."
"Old friend of yours, then?" Vi chuckled, "Or enemy?"
"They were all killers by trade, of one sort or another, well known to me by deed or reputation," Garen shook his head, "I'd been tracking them for days, but after they met with their contact here, a rogue I did not lay my eyes upon, they disappeared. I followed you to them, in the end."
"Spotted you in the market, yeah," Vi said, with a smirk, "You're quiet when you want to be, but you stand out."
Garen gave a gusty boom of a laugh, "I suppose that disadvantage, I did not fully account for."
"Motive established or not," Caitlyn frowned, stepping back nearer to them, "I regret to inform you that, mm, 'Jarro Lightfeather'," how she did not crack, Caitlyn herself didn't know, "...is in our custody. Whatever questions you wished to ask him shall have to go through us."
"Only one," said Garen, his eyes growing hard, "One he claimed he could not answer."
"The indulgence you mentioned," Caitlyn pursed her lips, "I expected you to be half a continent away, on the front lines with your troops. It must be something greatly important to you, to turn you from your duty-"
Garen's chains clinked, sending Vi's muscles visibly tensing with restrained action, but the big man only leaned closer to the cell and gripped the bars.
"I do not turn from my duty!" he growled, "All my life I have served Demacia, and I serve her still. I have only now come to understand what that truly means."
Caitlyn blew out a breath.
The Garen Crownguard I knew was a consummate soldier. A patriot, a shining exemplar of Demacian values, a hero to every man, woman and child in the kingdom...
She studied his haunted, haggard features, the stubble on his chin and the newer scars joining many on his broad face and massive arms.
Dirty and trailworn, he seemed much diminished. The eyes, though, gave him away.
Many things have changed for him. But one thing is as unshakeable as ever.
"Very well," she said, "Ask your indulgence."
Garen's steely façade cracked, and what peeked through – weary and worried – was a face familiar to Caitlyn.
She'd seen Vi wearing it many a time.
"Caitlyn, please. Lux is here, in your city, and she's in danger."
Caitlyn breathed out.
"We know."
His expression softened, "Then – if I cannot be free to find her, I must implore you to do so. And to protect her. No matter what fate I must face, let me at least face it knowing that she is safe."
He paused. Caitlyn's heart went out to the stricken expression on his big face.
"Is she...safe?" he asked, "Do you know where she is?"
"There are things we can't discuss with a prisoner, Garen," Caitlyn said quietly, "You must know that. But I promise you, we are doing everything in our power to find Lux and to help her. Unless there is more that you can give us to aid that investigation, that is all I can offer you. I'm sorry."
But she felt it before she saw it. The way Vi was looking at Garen. The sharpening of her eyes, grey-white hardened like edges of a flint axe.
Lux is his sister. His little sister.
"Bullshit, Cait," she whispered, "You can't."
Caitlyn blinked at her, "I can't...?"
"Leave him with just that."
She stepped closer to the bars, leaning against them, putting herself within a distance where – Cait saw, with a jolt of her heart – Garen could, if he wanted, lunge at the bars and grab Vi.
And Vi knew that, too.
"Listen, big guy," she said, and it wasn't the tough, cocky voice of the Wardens' roughshod maverick, "You know who I am?"
He hesitated only a moment before nodding.
"Tales of the Piltover Enforcer and her mighty fists have reached even Demacia," he said with a weary smile, "Well met, Vi of Piltover."
Vi shifted slightly, a faint pink dusting on her cheeks, "Uh, cool, cool. Hey if we all make it out of this, and you get back there – mind a bit of a tweak to those legends? Piltover Warden, we're Wardens, okay? ...and I'm from Zaun, tell them that, too."
"You have my word," said Garen.
"Okay," said Vi, "We don't know where your sister is. But we know who she's with. Anything you can tell us that might help us find her, that's on you to share."
"Beyond her acquaintance with Lightfeather," he glared vaguely in the direction Ezreal was resting, "I know nothing of her fate. Whose company does my sister keep?"
Vi went silent a moment.
"Vi, don't-" Caitlyn warned, but it was too late.
"She's with my sister," she fought her tongue, "She's with Jinx."
Garen furrowed his brow at first in confusion, as if he hadn't quite heard right, and then in a deeper puzzlement.
"Is that not the name of the fiend who attacked your Council but one year thence?"
Vi gritted her teeth, but Caitlyn held her own tongue. This one was Vi's.
"That's her," she said, soft and rough.
"I see," Garen lowered his voice to a rumble, "They are...complicated, aren't they?"
Vi looked up at him.
"Sisters?" she gave a small, sad smirk, "Yeah. Yeah they are."
She took a deep breath and scratched the back of her head.
"Why Lux is with her and how, that's what we're trying to figure out."
"We don't think she has hurt Lux," said Caitlyn, "At this point. But Jinx is ...volatile. And has many enemies. Lux's safety is far from assured."
"Not gonna lie to you," said Vi, "She's either in the safest or the most dangerous place she could be. That's why we need your help."
Caitlyn cleared her throat and levelled a serious gaze on the caged Demacian hero.
"We must determine if Lux is a captive, an unwitting bystander – or an accomplice."
Garen straightened, unfurling his broad shoulders and standing up, dwarfing even Caitlyn.
"If Lux has chosen to accompany this Jinx," he said, "Then whatever my aid - or my life - may be worth, I offer it to you. But know this...Luxanna is a symbol of hope and compassion to our kingdom, and to my family. Our Lady of Luminosity."
He smiled with conviction as solid as his steel.
"No matter what has happened, the choices she's made, or that dire circumstance has forced upon her, I fear not for my sister's honor. I know, as every Demacian knows, that her virtue is beyond reproach."
"...so you lost yours to a horse?"
They lay twined in Jinx's bed, the clean sheets rumpled and no longer quite so clean, in the most satisfying way. They lay soaking in the warmth and fragrance of each other and what they'd done the night before, and this morning when they'd woken up together. And considered doing a little more of later when neither was quite as tender from all the doing...
The dozy inactivity spurred Jinx to voice her thoughts.
Lux nearly choked at the sudden question.
"Wh-what? Oh, Jinx!" she burst with her shrill laugh, pressing a kiss to Jinx's bewildered brow, "No! I meant I – that when you're riding a horse, you can jostle around enough that – um – I guess th-the saddle must rub somewhere that – t-triggers a reaction – and it's also possible to get jolted enough that - that it breaks - it's quite common for Demacian girls to lose their maidenhead that way."
"Oh."
She called it a ...what now? Jinx furrowed her brows more.
"Gosh, you know I've never told anyone that? Not even my mother," Lux admitted, cheeks cherry-red, "I was so scared when it happened. Afraid I'd ruined myself – my reputation – if anyone knew that I no longer had proof of my virtue– silly, I know, but..."
Lux lifted her fingers, and, hesitating only a little, let the Light glow through her flesh and out.
"...it was the second-scariest thing I've ever learned about myself, after this."
I'll never get used to it. Don't wanna, Jinx stared in fascination at the glow before it faded, The girl is the light. The light is the girl...
"What, over a bit of skin?" Jinx's brows knit in confusion, "It's that important to you guys?"
"Not to the average Demacian, no. A farmer's daughter or a soldier may be permitted her dalliances, but my family..." Lux shook her head, "It's the lineage, Jinx. The child of a great House can't risk siring a bastard from frivolity, and the goodwives with their herbs and potions were often secretly mages – they're not trusted anymore."
She shrugged.
"...Bloodlines need to be proven. It's the most old-fashioned way of knowing, and it's not certain, but..."
"Wow, that's messed up," said Jinx.
"I suppose it is. But you were in a very privileged position last night, you know," Lux teased, leaning against her, "Wars have been fought over a Crownguard's maidenhead. Historically, of course."
"Flashlight," said Jinx, "If I gotta hear it called a 'maidenhead' one more time, wars gonna be fought right now."
Lux snorted and lowered her eyes, "Okay, you're right, it sounds weird, doesn't it? I suppose it's nothing like that in Zaun..."
"Nah," said Jinx, with a grin, "Down here it's mostly like... 'do whatever feels good, don't catch anythin', especially not kiddles ya can't afford to feed.'"
"I see."
"But Undercity folks don't sleep 'round half as much as Pilties think we do," Jinx chewed her lip, "Cuz the one thing Zaun isn't is safe. You gotta pick who you do stuff with carefully, get me? For yer own protection. Ain't no shiny knights gonna save you if you get in trouble, and the Enforcers, hah..."
Jinx resisted the urge to spit on the bedroom floor but grimaced anyway.
"...they're the opposite of protection. Maybe for Pilties. We're on our own. Gotta watch yer own back."
"Ekko told me trust was the most important commodity down here," Lux said quietly.
"You're gettin it."
"Then, I trust you, Jinx."
Jinx's heart nearly stopped. She stared at Lux silently.
You shouldn't, she wanted to say, but something in Lux's eyes told her that her Demacian wouldn't take that for an answer.
And that maybe, despite everything in Jinx's head, Lux was right.
"Sunbeam..."
"It's okay. You don't have to say anything."
Jinx felt heat on her cheeks, peeled her eyes away from Lux's and found herself peering between her own legs instead.
"Um," Jinx coughed. "I guess...speakin' of, uh...I guess if we're talkin' about that, I lost mine to...me, then?"
She scratched at her nose.
"Cuz, like...I spent a lot of time alone. And I get bored. And when I get bored, I get, uh, inventive. And when I get inventive I, heh, get carried away."
"I see."
"Nah you don't, Blondie," Jinx's eyes gleamed a little wickedly, and she leaned closer, whispering in a husk, "...not yet. That's later."
Lux blinked.
"Wh-what do you mean-wuah!"
Jinx, cackling, had upended her and scuttled like a naked scorpion with two blue tails to the pile of junk she'd unceremoniously stuffed under her nearest workbench.
"Should be in here...hah!"
She came back dragging a battered iron trunk to the foot of the bed, laughter snortling through her flared nostrils and the little gap in her ever-lip-pinching teeth.
"Open it!"
Lux, bewildered and perhaps a little trepidatious, unlatched and lifted the lid of the box.
She stared at what was within, and Jinx, hunkered up and grinning, watched her expression, and waited.
Watched Lux's face go from blank, to confused, to that cute, posh little crinkle of her brow and scrunch of her nose as she plucked one of the devices from the innards of the box and held it upside-down.
Her slow-dawning revelation.
The widening of her eyes. The pink spreading over her cheeks.
The squawk of shock when she found the on button, fumbled, and dropped the buzzing artifact back in the box, where it continued to buzz, clacking loudly against the other items within.
"Th-these are-"
"Yup."
"Wh-you made these, to-to...?!"
"Toldya. I had a lot of time to myself," Jinx rolled her eyes, "I'm a tinker. 'Course I'm gonna tink myself, yanno?"
Lux swallowed, reached gingerly into the box, and switched off the juddering gizmo.
She looked up just in time to be caught out by Jinx's wink.
"Soon, Sunbeam," Jinx purred and ran her tongue over the points of her teeth, "Gonna give ya a demonstration."
"I...uh," Lux swallowed again, her smile timid but curious, "...look forward to the lesson."
Lux shivered. Jinx had rather the thought that it might have just happened to her again.
"...is..." she glanced at the box, "This what you learned from your observations at the brothel?"
Jinx snicker-snorted, "Oh, what, no, not really? This is just me tinkin'. You sure are keen on the whole down the street from a brothel thing, right?"
"I'm curious," Lux drew herself up in a way that would've been dignified, were she wearing any clothes, "That's all. I wonder how you...how it is you became acquainted with such a place."
Jinx rolled another snort into her nostrils before bursting into a full-throated laugh.
"Oh, Luxie, y'want the full story, huh?"
She faded into snickers and waved a hand..
"Y'shoulda seen it. So...when I got my first bleed? Silco. Freaked. Out. He calls in Sevika – that's Auntie Ogre, I'll introduce ya someday if she doesn't wanna shoot me next time she sees me – and he's all 'give her the appropriate information'-"
...even after all this time, my impression of him is pretty good, Jinx thought with a bitter pang, and judging from Lux's widening of her eyes at the sudden shift of her voice into his icy tones, she thought so too.
"...and so, Sevika drags me down to Babette's – that's the brothel, yanno – slaps me down on a seat in the peep show room, pays for a show, and says-"
She dropped into Sevika's growly gravel, "-'watch and learn, kid, and if anyone tries to do any of this to you without you wanting it, kill 'em.'-"
Lux stared at her, rapt. "A-and...you watched?!"
"Mhm."
'How-how old were you?"
"Twelve? I think. Who freakin' knows."
"So-so you've seen..."
"Oh, I've seen plenty," said Jinx, cheerfully, "Girls n' girls, boys n' girls, boys n' boys, just about everythin' in between."
"All in one night?!"
"Nah. That first show? Just kinda grossed me out. I mean, why would you wanna put your mouth on someone's bits? Why would you stick one of those up there?"
She rolled her eyes, ignoring Lux's crimson apoplexy and the small choking sound she made, and waved her hand dismissively, "...but those bits look pretty funny, really, floppin' around like that, and I got like...kinda curious?"
"S-so you went back?" Lux choked out, "To ... to see more?"
"What, ya kiddin' me? Babette's is expensive and she wasn't too happy about Sevika bringin' a kid in there. Nah, Flashlight. Payin' for a show ain't my style. Spyin' on people's free! And since they don't know yer there, it's more fun!"
"S-spying?!" Lux gaped, "Jinx!"
"Isn't that what you do?" Jinx arched a brow, "Y'know, with your bendin'-the-light-can't-see-me trick?" Jinx leaned in close, grinning like a shark, "Ooh I bet you'd be the best at it. You've got to have gone peepin'! I mean sure you have! You can turn invisible! Who wouldn't?!"
Lux sputtered and folded her arms over her bare breasts crossly, and for a moment Jinx thought she'd gone too far.
"I-I'll have you know that I've only used my abilities to spy for Demacia, on covert missions for the Radiant Order...a-and..."
Jinx waited expectantly, grinning like an idiot and bobbing her head.
"...fine," Lux scowled, "...twice."
Jinx cackled, slapping her knee and leaning back against the pillows. She squinted an eye open and saw Lux staring at the arch of her back and her thin, muscled arms yearningly.
"Little miss innocent, huh?" said Jinx, licking her lips.
Lux scoffed again and turned her nose up, "I mean, if you want to put it that way. I'm sure after this, you've quite corrupted me."
A little flinch ran through Jinx that she was sure Lux hadn't noticed.
You're jokin'. That's what you think, anyway, Sunbeam...
"C-corrupted?!" Jinx stammered, "B-but you're my first everythin', how can I be corruptin' ya?"
Lux bit her lip. Her jesting smile flickered away.
"Well," she said, "Maybe I want to be. Maybe there's things I want to learn about myself..."
"Like how ya go kaboom when you, yanno-" Jinx beamed, "cuz that was impressive, Sunbeam. Is that gonna happen every time?"
She couldn't help sounding like an excited kid at a fair. Lux coloured and stammered out, "L-look how would I know? You were my first there too and I-"
She sighed and shook her head.
"I can't believe it," Lux murmured, "All this time...I really tried, you know. But the chambermaids' gossip and the soldiers' tall tales were both so full of lies and exaggerations. Useless. I couldn't...I couldn't talk to anyone."
She drew her legs in closer to herself and sighed.
"It ain't yer fault," said Jinx, "Dumbassia's just stupid about it, right?"
Lux scoffed into her knees and turned her face away.
"...Duty above everything," she muttered, "The true Demacian way. I suppose I'd have been educated before the betrothal had proceeded much further. Likely some humiliating lecture from my aunt about bringing honor to the Crownguard name in my lord husband's bed. For the realm, you know, no matter what I felt about it."
Jinx's mind spiked, itched and scratched.
"Betro-husba-Does...does that mean you were gonna...get married?"
Lux rolled her eyes, "Supposedly. The decision was made entirely without me, of course."
"What!?"
"Poor Jarvan," Lux went on, as if Jinx hadn't said anything, "I didn't even see him after the decision was made. He likely had only slightly more of a say in it than I did. A Prince must serve the throne most of all, after all."
Jinx's mind fizzled into the white void.
She was going to be...what...who...
Jinx's thoughts exploded with scratches in white and red and purple and black, painting castles and palaces and little rows of knights – all to blast them viciously apart in fierce scrabbles of red and orange and yellow and black – fire and blood and ash...
She was glad that Lux was looking away – glad because she knew the face she would be wearing – what she couldn't hide, etched there in clenched teeth and knotted brows.
Rage.
Until she was looking, studying Jinx's face with a somber expression of her own.
"It doesn't matter anymore, Jinx," Lux said quietly, "It's never to be. And I'm glad of that."
She reached out and touched Jinx's cheek, and slowly, the white crawled out of the corners of Jinx's vision.
"I'm where I want to be," said Lux.
And all Jinx could feel was Lux's touch on her skin.
"...okay," she managed.
Jinx breathed hard as she came down from the spike, staring searchingly at Lux – her hand, her eyes.
"You were my first everything too, Jinx," a sweet smile.
"I...I was?"
Lux's smile flickered. Just a tiny little bit, her light a candle-flame in a breeze.
Jinx saw it, though, and Lux's falling eyes told her she knew she'd seen.
"...well, there was sort of a kiss, I suppose."
Jinx's heart twisted up. Amid all the bright, sweet, unfamiliar feelings that Luxanna Crownguard wrapped around her heart like twining rose-vines, she suddenly felt familiar thorns.
A feeling she was intimately acquainted with.
"...who...?"
Jinx said it very quietly, and didn't think Lux, in her warm, languid state, had really picked up on the crackle of tension under it.
"Oh, a guy who apparently had been nursing a crush all the time I'd known him," Lux shook her head, "I don't count it, not really. It wasn't much of a kiss. I wasn't expecting it and he didn't ask."
Jinx knew it was the blonde boy in the streetlights. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew.
The one who was so determined to find her again...
"Heh," Jinx licked her her dry lips, "You kill him?"
Rhetorical, Silco would have said.
"Who, Ezreal?" Lux laughed and shook her head again, "Oh, no. I mean I was tempted, believe me, but really, he's just an idiot who doesn't know how to read signals. Or lack thereof."
Ezreal.
"He didn't ask."
"No, I guess he didn't..."
Jinx let the smile spread on her lips. It was warm, like the blood from a cut throat.
"Can I?"
Lux blinked, her smile fading a little, "Can you what?"
"Kill him."
Lux laughed again, but the smile faded completely when she looked into Jinx's blank, manic eyes and saw that she –
"Oh. You're not joking, are you?"
"No-pe," Jinx let her lips pop the 'p'.
"Please don't, Jinx."
"Why."
"Because he's not a bad person."
Jinx gave a scratchy, nasty laugh, "Who said I only kill bad people?"
"Okay, then don't, because I don't want you to."
Now, Jinx scowled and growled in the back of her throat. Th...that's not fair! But what could she say to that?
"W-why don't you want to?"
"Because he apologized. And he really did help me. I wouldn't have made it to Piltover without his help."
Her hand was so warm on Jinx's arm.
"And then I'd have never met you."
And though her words were soft and kind and all the things Jinx wasn't, her eyes had that unyielding look that Jinx held in something akin to awe.
"And when he had a chance to betray me, he chose to keep faith. For that, I won't see him harmed."
Jinx made a small, animal choking sound in the back of her throat again.
And then Lux's lips were on hers.
Just for a second, so quick and so awkward that Jinx could barely acknowledge them having touched.
She'd drawn back, leaving Jinx instinctively chasing her, but she had ducked back out of reach.
"That's what he was like," Lux said, with a coy smile.
Then she slung her arms around Jinx's neck and leaned in.
"...and then, there was us..."
Jinx felt her breath on her lips and then Lux tilted her head and melded her mouth to Jinx's own, tender at first, then breaking into a hungry moan that hummed inside Jinx's mouth, letting her tongue unfurl to dance its awkward, perfect dance against its partner...
When Jinx's brain came up for air, she had the thought that the way Lux was pulling and guiding her, the angle of her face, the tempo of her devouring lips, was familiar.
She was playing out their first kiss all over again.
When she was done, she slithered their mouths apart, sealed them with a soft peck, and tapped her fingertip on Jinx's kiss-swollen lips.
"You were my first," Lux murmured, "The one that mattered. Kissing you made everything make sense. I hope you know that."
Jinx swallowed, and played her dangerous smirk as best she could right now;
"Soo....no more rival boyfriends I have to fight off?"
Lux laughed huskily and rolled her eyes.
"Jinx! I don't have boyfriends. Ezreal is a friend who overstepped. Prince Jarvan – well, he's King now – I grew up alongside him, and he was always kind and courteous. But after the rebellion he blames mages for his father's death. You can imagine how well meeting him again would go. And..."
Lux paused. Her eyes hardened, a coldness within their blue that Jinx had only caught faint glimpses of before.
"...and Sylas took whatever feelings I may have had – which I neither understood, nor acted upon – and crushed them when he betrayed me."
Ezreal. Jarvan. Sylas, Jinx burned the names into her brain. Added them to a list.
"Ohhh," said Jinx, her smile cooling, her eyes half-lidding, "Can I kill him, then?"
"I'll leave that open-ended," Lux said softly, "I still don't know how I'd feel if he showed his face again."
"Maybe," Jinx hedged, touching Lux's chin, "Y'don't want me to kill that one...cuz you want to."
"I...I don't-"
"I know that look, Sunbeam. I see it in the mirror."
Lux swallowed.
"I suppose we won't know unless it comes to it," she shrugged, "And what about you, Jinx? Now we're home, and nobody is actively trying to kill us right now..."
She rubbed her toes along Jinx's leg and teased her foot.
"...what do you want to do next?"
"You."
Despite herself, despite everything, Lux still blushed.
"...I mean, what's our, uhm, next adventure?"
Jinx's eye twitched.
The next choice is yours, rasped Silco's voice in her brain.
"I..." Jinx swallowed, "N-need a little time to think, Blondie."
Staring blankly though she was, Jinx felt the warm slither of Lux's arms around her, the weight of her head upon her shoulder.
"It's okay," her lover said softly, "Take all the time you need. I'll be here. We have all the time in the world."
Oh, Sunbeam, Jinx thought, as she sank into the fragrant heat of Lux's embrace and drowned her fear in it, if only tḩa͏t͏ w͢er͏ę ͜trùe...
Water sloshed and sloughed in chill, oily rivulets from Kestrel's hair and their sodden grey cloak as they pushed against the agony of their body and the dragging weight of the Pilt. One hand still gripped the petricite shield, swinging it before them like a poorly-shaped oar; the other, clenched to a white-knuckled fist, dragged the waterlogged carcass of Kravius Mallarde in their wake.
Kestrel didn't know why they'd bothered. Easy enough to let the filthy mage drown; on top of being an abomination against nature, a Noxian, and a noisome buffoon, he was a liability to Kestrel's mission.
And, quite likely, their last functional ally, though for all Kestrel knew, Mallarde might already be dead.
Kestrel bit back a snarl as they hauled the floating mage beneath the shadow of a small industrial pier. Running footsteps passed above; the Wardens, units of them moving toward the warehouse district, toward the scene of what was sure to make the Piltover rags as an 'incident'.
Well for them, then, that they were already considerably downstream.
Dragging Kravius' body through the muck of the shallows, Kestrel gave a short, sharp cry of fury as they finally – and roughly – hauled both their own aching body and the mage's limp one onto the banks of the Pilt, such as there were, bolstered heavily by artificial embankments.
Lying on their back in the mud and filth, staring at the hazy sky of Piltover, Kestrel froze their teeth to a rictus of hate.
This accursed city. This damned, fouled, filthy, reeking scab of a city, with its twin, the festering wound underneath. One begging to be torn off to expose the other.
What a jest. Neither would, nor could, ever heal. Hubris and overreach rotted both to the roots.
Kestrel lay and stared. Everything ached. Bruised ribs – maybe broken – bloodied nose, split lip – lucky they hadn't taken a direct hit from the foul wench's gauntlets, at the very least.
Their sword, mask, and tools, lost. Ezreal, escaped. Their pawns, expunged.
This was a setback. The injuries, the loss of their equipment and their Noxian fodder, their prisoner, even being marked by a Warden...all sacrifices Kestrel was willing to make, if it brought them to her...
But they were no closer. Not one footstep closer!
Kestrel clawed at the collar of their tunic, loosening the tangled, sodden fabric until they could breathe again.
Beside them, Mallarde coughed and then jerked, choking on river-water.
So he lives.
Kestrel reached out with a flail of their arm and shoved him, rolling him onto his side, caring little if he lived or died, only curious to see which it would be.
He spat water, then convulsed, retched, vomited more, and curled into a ball, moaning colourful curses in his posh Bastion dialect between spitting up whatever was inside him.
Pity, thought Kestrel, and considered caving his face in with the edge of their shield while he lay helpless.
Certainly, the additional electrocution hadn't done his looks any favors. Perhaps it would be an improvement.
But then hauling him out of the water would have been a wasted effort.
Kestrel forced their body to move, rolling over to grab Mallarde's shoulder and flicking their last boot-knife to his throat.
"I want you to remember this, mage," they hissed in his ear, "You live because of me. Every heartbeat, every breath from now is mine. Owed to me. A time will come when I collect."
Kravius froze, and they saw the flicker of his eyes – ah, the magic had changed him, that was interesting – but he, miraculously, made no retort.
"The streets are crawling with Wardens," Kestrel whispered, "Stay hidden here and I will return when I have decided what to do with you."
"V-very well," croaked the mage, voice thick with pain and river-water.
"...and if you make me regret for an instant having spared you," said Kestrel, "I will find you and correct my error."
They left him there, dragging their battered form up the embankment, concealed from prying eyes by the industrial clutter of the riverside.
Piltover was not an easy city to hide in. Its broad promenades and orderly, spacious plazas offered little cover. The only blessing was how crowded it was, thick with throngs of people, and how mind-bogglingly preoccupied its citizens always seemed to be with their toys of iron and steam and wretched blue-white magic.
Kestrel made pains not to pass too close to any such contraption, of course. The Piltovans might start paying attention if their blasphemies failed, after all.
Their bedraggled appearance did them no favors as far as blending in with passersby, of course. Alley and rooftop, such as they were accessible at all, furnished their ascent to the predetermined meeting place.
Leaning against the wall, where the humming of infernal machines in the clocktower would muffle conversation for prying ears, they waited an aching eternity, scratching at their throat, alone with only the whispers of their thoughts and the maddening bite of failure.
It stung far worse than the marks of the pink-haired Enforcer's fists. But it was thin, superficial, compelled to the swelling darkness inside.
By the time the other grey-cloaked figure finally stole furtively onto the gantry, Kestrel saw the stormy knot of his brow – at least the half they could see beneath his hood and half-mask – and surmised their moods were not dissimilar.
"Inquisitor," Adept Tyven fairly hissed, "I presume you have some explanation for the mummer's farce that has reached my ears from the dockside?"
Kestrel lifted challenging eyes to the taller Mageseeker.
"I deal not in excuses," they said, "Nor shall I insult you by offering them. It is what it is."
"What it is?" Tyven's voice grew level, his expression stony, but his eyes were still more livid, "You were sent here to scout and gather intelligence on her location, not to kidnap Piltovan citizens and bring the Wardens down upon you!"
"You ask for the juice and then weep that the rind is broken," said Kestrel, "I apply my skills as is necessary to attain our objectives, as any member of the Order."
"I had my objections to your inclusion on so delicate a mission," Tyven muttered, jabbing a finger into Kestrel's chest, ignorant of the flicker that went up behind their eyes, "But he deemed your experience outside our borders worth giving you a chance to prove yourself more than a mad dog on too long a leash. Rarely have I wished my lord to be wrong, but that has clearly proven true."
"I should wonder," Kestrel replied, smiling grimly, "If you'd care to repeat that to his face."
Tyven's lips twitched. Kestrel smiled on.
"Very well, Inquisitor Kestrel," Tyven said, "Tell me, then – have your unorthodox methods gleaned you Luxanna's location, or a means to retrieve her?"
Now it was Kestrel's smile that flickered.
"As expected," the tall Mageseeker shook his shaven head and sighed.
Kestrel's lips thinned. They held their ground, staring at the other of their Order with cold, raptorian eyes. Eyes that had earned their moniker.
That, and their aptitude for defleshing their prey.
"You are to cease your activities and go to ground," said Tyven, "Until you receive further orders."
Kestrel narrowed their eyes, "Upon your authority, Adept Tyven?"
Tyven slid a scroll from the pouch at his side and held it forth.
"Not mine."
Kestrel did not need to unfurl it to know whose seal was upon the order. A hiss built up in the back of their throat.
"Give me one more day," Kestrel murmured, fighting the urge to scream, "One more, and she is ours."
"You're compromised," said Tyven, "And a threat to everything we are doing here. Go to ground, whilst we determine the best course of action to clean up your mess. Those are your orders, Inquisitor. Bring no more shame to our Order than you already have."
Without waiting for a reply, he strode away in a flourish of his cloak.
Kestrel remained still, every muscle in their body taut as a drawn bowstring. Only the rasp of their own breath undercut the hum of machinery.
Suddenly, everything was too close, too loud, to full of noise.
Kestrel spat blood on the metal grate flooring at their feet and flung their battered body up the steps of the clocktower. Across its gantries, higher, higher, until the ticking guts of the machine were at their back, and ahead, an archway...
A balcony. Open air, cold and sharp, gnawing at their still-damp clothes and making whipping black needles of the tangles of their hair.
Kestrel sucked the air in greedily.
Time. They needed more time.
To heal. To gather their intel and make sense of it. To think...
Think.
...you have n-no idea...what you're walking into...
"There's something," Kestrel whispered to the cold air and the city-scape of Piltover, never quiet, always clinking and wheezing and steaming, always talking, just like their prisoner.
Ezreal of Piltover could never, in all the ages of the world, truly keep his mouth shut.
"Something there, something he said..."
You don't want the person she's with.
Kestrel's fierce grey eyes, pupils so wide as to nearly seem black, sliced across the horizon. The skyline of Piltover. Something there. Something they were missing...
If you knew, you'd run with your tail between your legs...
"Who are you?" Kestrel muttered, "Why is she with you?"
Their fingers toyed with the knife, running along its silvery edge. Eyes focused, suddenly.
No. There was nothing there, in the skyline of Piltover. Nothing Kestrel could see.
But there was something they couldn't. Amid the cluster of towering buildings at the heart of the business and political centre of the great city, stood a gaping hole.
The rocket had wreaked such havoc upon that lightning-struck tower that what remained had to be demolished. It had taken them months to clear the rubble. A memorial was currently under construction. With the attacker still, potentially, at large, the Piltover Council now met in multiple locations, all of them secretive and secure, even now...
The most dangerous person in either city.
Kestrel's thin, sharp laugh burst out of them all at once.
"Go to ground, must I?" Kestrel clicked their tongue, "So I shall, Tyven. I shall go deep."
I want you to find out the fun way, said Ezreal's voice, filled with bitter defiance, Pity I won't be there to see the look on your face.
Kestrel stared into that absence and twisted a cold smile.
"Pity indeed."