Chapter Text
Doing the right thing meant sacrifices.
It meant getting up early, earlier than everyone else, too early really, and making sure there was enough food for breakfast so everyone got enough. It meant going without a blanket on the really cold nights because you can handle being a little colder than she can, or handing over your shoes because they were the last good pair and he’s starting to limp. It meant standing in front of what was most important to you to defend it, no matter how you bled, because you were built to take it so they don’t have to be.
It meant keeping danger off of your loved ones backs.
Vi sat on the bench, hands clasped between her knees as one leg bounced. She stared down at them, at the callouses and cuts she had sustained, the small tears and stains in the fabric. She ran her thumb slowly over the faded little angry face Powder had drawn on the palm of her glove, the ink worn off from time and use.
Footsteps came, heavy boots, the clink of buckles, the sound of the rebreather; Vi clenched her fists tight, felt her blunt nails dig through the glove and wrappings she wore over her palms, the stiff way her knuckles protested the tight grip. She relaxed them, watched the fingers unfold before she interlaced them together and hung her head, breathing in as deeply as she could, feeling the air swell in her sore ribs.
The footsteps stopped outside the door, accompanied by a shadow cutting off the light just below the old wood.
Vi exhaled, and stood.
The door opened, and backlit in the light of the neon alley of the Lanes the imposing form of the Piltover Sheriff stood there in the frame. Behind her a couple other enforcers, faces hidden in the masks to filter the air.
Meeting the eyes of the woman who had come to take her, Vi took another deep breath, exhaling almost smugly in her pride that she could handle the shit fumes of this place.
Looking around the room as if expecting anyone else, the sheriff raised an eyebrow slightly to Vi in silent question.
Vi set her jaw and nodded.
The sheriff nodded in return, stepping into the space only to make room for the other two enforcers to enter through the doorframe, the shackles Vi expected held in the hands of one of them. With another deep breath, Vi was about to step forward when the other enforcer grabbed her arm and yanked her. She scoffed at him, pulled her arm out of his gloved grip and held her hands out with a sneer his way.
“Easy,” the Sheriff said in a low, calm tone. Vi wasn’t sure who she was talking to; she kept her eyes on her hands to watch them as the large, shackles clicked on. The enforcer turned a pin and they tightened, holding her arms together.
She clenched her fists again, squeezing until it hurt.
The sheriff wordlessly tilted her head to the door and one enforcer walked out, hand on his gun, glancing around the street as if expecting an ambush. The other shoved Vi forward and she shot him a sneer again but kept her trap shut.
She glanced up only once to the sheriff still standing by the door as she walked past and the woman gave her an expression that looked too sympathetic for Vi’s comfort and she looked away.
Head down, but keeping her eyes aware on her surroundings like a bad habit, Vi followed between the two enforcers without protest down the quiet street.
When they were at the border to transport her to Piltover, she felt a heavy hand on her back and instinctively flinched, but it wasn’t a strike or a shove. Just a warm hand, a slightly squeeze of her shoulder, and a low voice.
“You’re doing the right thing,” the Sheriff said.
Vi didn’t reply.
She only finally looked back when they had crossed the bridge, the wind blowing her hair free and into her face, at the smoke and lights of her home. The messy, mixed colours of the Undercity and noisy citizens, the home she belonged to and hoped to escape, the years of memories and laughter and suffering, the people she wanted to protect, prevent rising up against a foe that had beaten them down once before.
She only had a minute for this one last look before one of her escorts gave her another light shove to get her to keep moving.
Shoulders sagging, Vi turned away from the Undercity, and followed the heavy boots to the bright, clean streets and tall buildings of the city that boasted progress, waiting to bring it’s fist down on her.
“Caitlyn.”
Her mother’s voice called out over the quiet piano music, followed by the sound of her dress shoes against the tile floor. The music kept up as the young, dark haired girl’s fingers danced across the piano keys, tilting her head just slightly to indicate she was aware of the woman walking up behind her.
Cassandra stopped beside the piano, letting her hand rest on the instrument as she stood there looking down at Caitlyn. The girl continued to play, head bowed and moving slightly as she nodded it along to keep timing for the music.
She played for another moment longer and then slowed down the final few notes, letting the music linger in the air before finally looking up to acknowledge her mother.
“Impressive,” the councillor smiled. Caitlyn smiled weakly back. “Caitlyn,” her mother continued, “I have some news regarding the incident at the apartment.”
Caitlyn tilted her head with curiosity. “What is it?”
“It appears they finally apprehended the one responsible. We’re to have a trial.”
“The one…” Caitlyn frowned, “I thought the apartment accident was resolved, why you exiled Jayce. Was it not?”
Cassandra clicked her tongue. “We didn’t… exile him dear, the recent concerns simple means he just no longer fit in with our family for patronage.”
“No longer fit in with our reputation, you mean,” Caitlyn replied, eyes hard. Giving out a light sigh, her mother merely reached forward and brushed aside a lock of the girl’s hair from her forehead with gentle fondness. Caitlyn let out a matching sigh, nostrils flaring slightly as she said more quietly, “he was my friend.”
“I know dear. You’ll understand when you’re older,” Cassandra said absently, and Caitlyn’s frown only deepened.
“I’m plenty old enough, mother.”
Cassandra’s smile softened, turned a little sad, and she continued to brush at Caitlyn’s hair. “Of course you are, dear. On that topic, the trial for the criminal who caused us all this concern is to be set by the council. For the good of the city to understand the verdict of such an appalling occasion, of course.” She brought her hand back, folding both on the piano top. “I thought you might like to attend.”
“Attend the trial?”
“You and your father,” Cassandra smiled down. She fussed with a wrinkle on Caitlyn’s shirt sleeve and gave her an affectionate tap on the chin. “Maybe it will help him to see the proper culprit brought to justice. And I think it would do you good,” she added straightening up and looking all the proper councillor that she was, “to get properly started in your own political journey to see how our council works in practice.”
It was Caitlyn’s turn to smile sadly, though with an enthusiastic attempt, and she nodded.
“I would like to see you working in your career,” she said softly.
Cassandra smiled and caressed Caitlyn’s cheek again, giving her the lightest pinch on her cheek. “After dinner, we’ll have Milly get you an outfit picked out for the occasion, shall we?”
Caitlyn nodded, eyes dropping to stare at her fingers resting on the piano keys. Cassandra pulled her hand back and then walked off, the only noise in the large sitting room the click of her shoes on the tile until the sound faded down into the hall.
With a deep breath in that swelled at her chest, Caitlyn exhaled and began to play again, filling the room with the soft piano song.
The cell was dark, quiet.
It was just a rectangle, just a room with bars for a door and a bed in the corner, sparse and empty. But even then, it was larger than her bedroom back home, the bed more spacious, the mattress softer.
She wondered if this was considered minimal by these people.
Vi paced the cell for the first few hours after she was brought in, after she had been registered and prodded by a doctor and tossed new clothes to wear. She paced in the soft-soled shoes given to her, eight steps one way, eight steps the other. Back and forth, back and forth, until she lost count of how many times she had done it. She tried to restart, count again to keep her mind occupied, but kept getting distracted.
How was Powder doing? Would Vander be angry with her? Would everyone manage without her. Should she had prepared better to leave them?
She didn’t know what the outcome of this was going to be, hadn’t thought this far ahead, and now alone with her thoughts the anxiety was making her nerves buzz and burn.
But whatever happened to her, she reminded herself, the alternative was worse. This was Powder was with Vander. No enforcers were going to push through the streets and chase her to the rooftops, no undercity hotheads were going to bring more heat down on The Last Drop. This way Powder was safe.
No matter what happened to Vi, this way Powder was safe.
She was so distracted in her thoughts that she walked nine steps instead of the eight, and walked right into the wall, her ducked head hitting the stone. She shouted in pain, grabbing her bruised forehead and slapping her other hand flat against the wall, before curling it into a fist.
Powder was safe, she reminded herself.
Her head throbbed and her wince and gasp of pain slowly morphed into an exhausted sob. She brought her fist onto the stone once, then twice, before diverting the energy her body wanted to use to cry into screaming instead, shouting as loud as she could into the echoing, empty cell and slammed her fist into the cold stone.
It hurt. It hurt beautifully, white hot in her brain and burning through all other thoughts. She struck again, and again for that pain, striking the wall while her knuckles protested and her skin split until she was finally exhausted. She collapsed against the wall, turned to rest her back against and slid down to sit.
Her hands throbbed, a deep pulsing pain that went up into her forearms as she rested them against her bent knees. She let her head fall back too hard, one final strike against the stone of her cell to distract her of any other worries that threatened to leak from her eyes. The pain grounded her. The only thing that existed was her, here, right now.
And Powder was safe.
Vi drifted off at some point while sitting back against the stone, the steady throb of pain lulling her into sleep. She woke up… some time later. There were no windows for her to have any idea what the time was. But she woke up to a stiffness in her neck and back that she winced as she slowly stretched out, grimacing as she adjusted her eyes to the dim lighting again.
Looking over to her door, she saw a small rectangular tray with a piece of bread and some cheese on it and a small bowl. A meal.
Vi slowly peeled herself away from where she had fallen asleep and half crawled over to the tray to kneel beside it and pick up the meal. The bread was the size of her fist, and cheese half that, and it was still more than Vi had eaten for breakfast for the past six years.
She convinced herself the bread was stale when she bit into it, the cheese flavourless. She pretended not to think about how this was considered meagre to a city that ignored the citizens living with less in it’s shadow.
Once the food was done and she had drunk the water in the bowl, Vi sat back and stared at the floor. Her hands still throbbed, sore from the beaten she had given to the stone wall, and she rubbed one thumb over the fresh cuts on the knuckles the other hand, wincing at the sting. Carefully, she stretched her hands out and slowly flexed, open and shut, gritting her teeth as the already healing skin protested the stretch.
She did this again and again until she felt she had stretched the skin enough, and then rolled over on her front to do push-ups, which she did until her arms wobbled and she pushed herself to her feet, took a deep breath, and began to shadow box.
Hours passed, maybe. She worked her body until she was exhausted, paced until she was nearly falling over, and finally let herself lie down on the bed where sleep quickly pushed her under. She slept for who knows how long, woke up to more bread and cheese with water by her door. She boxed and stretched and pushed to exhaustion, rewarded herself with the meal, and pushed her body some more.
She did this until it became a mindless routine. She wasn’t sure how long it went for, though it was maybe eight meals. She was only awake for them being delivered once, by a silent, sullen man who pushed the tray under a small slot in the door. Vi watched him silently, ignoring the hunger in her stomach and the food in front of her until he was out of sight.
She wasn’t going to let them see how hungry she was.
She never let anyone see.
This passed for eight meals, which she guessed meant two and a half days. Or three? Hell, maybe eight days. Eight meals.
After the eighth meal, after Vi had exhausted herself again until her muscles gave out and her body begged for rest, she was lying on her cot bed with her hands behind her head and thinking.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this was just her punishment, dragged up here to be stuck in this cell that was the largest single room she had ever slept in until… she got sent back?
Killed?
Went insane, more like.
She chewed on a cut on her lip, one she had teased open from too much chewing on it, running her tongue over the sharp pain and metallic taste of blood and thinking.
Whatever happened to her here, she reminded herself, Powder was safe.
The stomp of heavy boots against the floor caught her attention, pricking her ears, but she stayed lying down, staring at the ceiling. They were louder, heavier than the boots of the man that had slid the food tray under the door the one day she was awake for it
Her attention was still to the boots, but until another sound meant threat she wasn’t going to bother with any extra effort to give the boots attention.
Then, the slowing of the boots just behind her head and the sound of metal keys clinking against each other, and she tilted her head slightly. Then the rattle of a key in a lock, and she tensed her muscles but still stayed lying down, ready but trying to look like she wasn’t.
The scrape of her door opening came.
Vi stayed lying on her bed, waiting, staring firmly at the ceiling and wondering if this was going to be what she had been dreading, until finally a voice spoke with an sharp tone.
“Time to go.”
The elevator creaked more than Vi expected it too, for all the gold that decorated it.
The enforcer escorting her was a woman that looked about nearly twenties. She stared straight ahead during the ride, and Vi only allowed herself quick glances at her, the short black hair and heavy eye makeup.
She was kinda pretty, in a shitty enforcer way.
After a way too long ride in the creaky elevator, they finally reached the top, the highest number lighting up with a little ding noise. The doors opened to a sunlit filled room, a path between a crowd of people all staring at her, and a nearly circular table up ahead with seven people sitting around it.
She was led forward by the enforcer, who said as they walked through the crowd “stand in the centre, stand before the councillors.”
Vi walked forward with the pressure of the hand on her back, and a loud noise came from above. She looked up, to see the glass roof letting in the sunlight - it made her squint slightly - being covered by a mechanical roof to cast the room into darkness. She glanced to the side, to the random crowd on either side of her, and then to the centre of the round table as the roof closed off completely, making the room barely visible in the dimness of what little light shone through onto the council table.
A light turned on above her.
“Please state your name for the council,” a voice boomed from behind her. Vi half turned to look for the source before realizing she should probably keep looking forward. She cleared her throat and spoke, voice gravelly from disuse.
“Vi. My name’s Vi.”
“Vi,” said the woman at the centre, the dim light still managing to catch her golden jewelry on her dark skin. “Is that your full name?”
Darting her eyes quickly around to take in the other councillors, most who looked a variety of bored to annoyed, Vi looked back to the woman in front of her and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Vi,” the woman said again, slowly like she was feeling it out. “You stand accused of breaking and entering, theft, property damage and injury to the citizens of Piltover. What do you have to say to this?”
Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Yeah she knew what she was in trouble for. That’s why she was here. To admit it. “Yeah,” she said again, hating how nervous her voice sounded. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Enforcer and eyewitness reports claim there were four culprits,” the mechanical councillor said, voice echoing. “Where are the others?”
“It was just me!” Vi snapped. “I planned it, I pulled it off, I carried the stuff out.”
“All by yourself, was it?” Another councillor, an old man, sneered towards her. Vi bit her tongue to keep from snapping back, sneering at him in return.
A posh older woman councillor spoke up. “If she was the leader, her arrest is satisfactory. I have no issue with her choosing to take full responsibility for the crime.”
Vi nodded enthusiastically. “They only did it because I told them to. Without me, they won’t cause any trouble. I’m the one you want.”
“Your sacrifice is commendable,” the Yordle at the table spoke, “but are you sure you want to bear the brunt of responsibility for these accusations?”
“Just me,” Vi said again, voice getting tense with frustration. “Leave the rest of them alone, leave the Lanes alone. Whatever you need to do, only do it to me, I’m the one who stole, I’m the one who made the whole place blow up, okay? Lay it on me.”
“If she wants to take full responsibility,” the posher older woman said, with a tone that Vi wasn’t sure was angry or not, “then I accept, we should proceed.”
The woman at the centre nodded to her once, and then to the yordle.
“Very well,” the old man said with boredom, and then to Vi, “so you admit to coming to our city, breaking and entering, stealing, destruction, causing panic and mayhem in the streets?”
“I already said yes,” Vi didn’t prevent the sneer this time. Let them get furious at her, keep the heat off of everyone’s backs.
“And what became of what was stolen?” The woman in the large collar asked.
Vi shrugged. “Sold it.”
“Child,” the Yordle spoke with a serious tone. “This is incredibly important. Did you take any of the blue crystals with you back down to the Lanes.”
Vi’s eyes widened, as she thought of the blue gems Powder held onto. Shit, should she have grabbed them to return? “No,” she managed to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “We only took stuff we knew we could sell without it getting tracked.”
The Yordle looked relieved, and sat back slightly in his seat.
“Why did you target that specific apartment?” The posh woman glared over to her.
“We knew it had money,” Vi replied, not hiding the smirk.
“Was the explosion meant as a distraction?” A thin, pale man who looked incredibly bored asked.
“No!” She said quickly. “That was an accident, we didn’t know there was something in there that could blow up. We were just getting ready to go and it exploded.”
“Just… coincidentally while you were there?” Old Man looked unconvinced.
“The volition nature of the crystals could mean that a thief jostling them aside caused a chain reaction.” The Yordle suggested.
“Likely,” Old Man sneered at her again.
“Then the crime is for theft and incidental destruction of property.” The woman at the centre rested her chin on her folded hands.
“And disrespect to our citizens and their homes,” the posh woman added, back straight.
“While it’s a relief none of the crystals have made it to the Undercity,” the mechanical councillor spoke, “the violations are still serious and as the leader her example should still stand to let our citizens know we won’t tolerate such actions.”
“And I’m still not convinced it was an accident,” Old Man huffed. “The destruction is a consequence of her actions and she should be punished for it.”
“Ten years in Stillwater should do it.” The thin man said in his bored tone, not even looking at Vi as he said it. When no one else said anything beyond agreeable murmurs, he half raised his hand, as if waiting.
The councillors looked along each other, as if silently coming to agreements in their votes, when a voice from behind Vi shouted out, echoing over the room.
“You can’t be serious.”
The voice rang out in the dark room, and instantly a low murmur followed after it. All the councillors sat up straighter or bent forward, craning their necks to look over the crowd, and Vi darted her eyes around them a second before turning herself to look.
It was dark, hard to see outside of her spotlight, but her eyes were used to seeing through shadows and she could just make it out — there, standing at the front of the crowd that had parted around her, to give her space or avoid association, stood a girl her age with straight black hair and clean rich clothes and a furious expression. She was glaring past Vi to the council, but when Vi turned her eyes darted to meet hers. She looked at Vi with an expression of fierce determination, before dragging her gaze to look back past her.
“She’s a child,” the girl said in her high, posh tone and Vi had to snort quietly at that. “You can’t honestly subject a girl her age to -prison for an accidental incident.”
“She’s responsible for the crime,” one of the councillors, Old Man, snapped back.
“Responsible for a crime, with an unpredicted outcome,” the girl replied. “She stole, yes, but the explosion and it’s consequences weren’t her intent.”
“Regardless of her intent,” another councillor started but the girl interrupted with a louder inflection.
“You said yourself that the crystals were volatile, and any such accident could have set them off. Why must her circumstance make her guilty for it? What if they had gone off while the building was empty? Or while I was helping Jayce?” She glared forward. “If I had dropped a crystal and caused an explosion, would I also be condemned?”
“Caitlyn,” one of the councillors - the posh older woman one - hissed out between her teeth but the girl only frowned even more sterner.
“Regardless of her intent,” the first councillor tried again, “the results are what they are and an example must be made.”
“What sort of example?” The girl, Caitlyn, fired back. Her jaw was set forward, hands clenched into fists at her side. “This only says that that we’re prone to overreaction to accidents, that we’re willing to punish their children for a mistake. This isn’t justice, this is retaliation, it’s…” her expression turned disgusted, “vengeance.”
“Then what do you propose as an alternative,” boomed the mechanical councillor.
“You can’t seriously be letting a child suggest—“ Old Man began to protest, but the woman at the centre held up a hand to stop him from speaking.
“If the girl feels this strongly, I for one would be rather interested in hearing her ideas,” she said calmly, with a slight tilt of her head and a thoughtful smile.
“Yes,” the old Yordle nodded to the woman and then to the girl. “Please, young Kiramman, we’re open to suggestion.”
Everyone turned to look to the girl, and Vi turned too to look. The girl, Caitlyn, looked a little surprised, wide eyes blinking a moment before darting her eyes to look at Vi, holding her gaze for a second. Then she straightened herself and lifted her chin. She darted her eyes among the councillors before giving a light nod and speaking up again.
“Rehabilitation,” she said firmly. “And… public service.”
A couple councillors scoffed, one speaking up. “And what sort of example would this public service set?”
“She turned herself in,” Caitlyn looked over to Vi and for the first time addressed her, “is that right?”
Vi nodded slowly.
Caitlyn nodded back, turning to face the council with more confidence. “She extended a hand of repentance to the damage she caused to secure peace, and her punishment should focus on honouring that. We can show the citizens of Zaun that we’re not an iron fist willing to sacrifice their children for an accident and provoking their own retaliation. Instead, have her enlist in the military academy, spend her time here in Piltover in house arrest.”
“This will still be punishment enough, I think,” she added a bit more tentatively, giving Vi another glance. Vi raised an eyebrow in response. Caitlyn held eye contact as she spoke the rest of her words, voice soft. “A consequence. But without the brutality; and there’s still a message that we respect them taking responsibility for their mistakes.”
Old Man scoffed again, and the woman in the large collar looked unimpressed. “This would surely only encourage more criminal activity in the Undercity children,” she began saying.
“We’ll have the little rats trying to blow everything up for a hot meal and free bedding,” Old Man sneered, “treating the court like an orphanage. Ridiculous.”
“Then it will be on purpose,” Caitlyn replied, “and you can punish them accordingly.”
It was quiet for a moment as the council mulled over the suggestion, and then the silence was broken by the woman with the golden freckles in the centre.
“My congratulations, Councillor Kiramman,” she said with an amused tone, leaning forward to rest her chin on the back of her hand. “You have quite the little political protege.”
The posh woman cleared her throat, not looking all that happy.
“This is a worthwhile suggestion, especially on the topic of sending a message of rehabilitation instead of reaction to the Undercity, to avoid them lashing back,” the Yordle brushed at his moustache with his fingers. “Do you agree with these terms, Vi?”
Vi blinked at him, looked around at the councillors and then glanced behind her quickly to this Caitlyn girl still standing there. She turned back to the Yordle and nodded.
“Do we really want to appear lax on this?” The posh woman looked furious. “She destroyed a building!”
“By accident, and in a rare circumstance that we’ve already assured can’t be repeated,” the Yordle said to her.
“Tensions with the Undercity are high,” the mechanical councillor said in a tone Vi guessed was thoughtful. “If we want to avoid further incident, maybe a less strict sentence is the right strategy.”
The posh woman and old man both scoffed, but the woman in the centre leaned forward looking to Vi and then past her, looking at Caitlyn maybe, with an interested expression.
“Then the verdict is set.” The Yordle’s voice rang out. “The girl will serve in the military academy in the service of Piltover and it’s people to atone for her actions. All in favour?” With a firm expression, he raised his hand. A light clicked on above him as he did.
The woman in the centre and the mechanical both raised theirs, and then the woman in the collar. With a frustrated huff, the posh woman raised hers, looking like she would rather strangle Vi instead. Their lights all clicked on, and a little murmur ran through the crowd behind Vi before quieting down.
“Young Vi,” the Yordle said, hands folded in the light of all their counted votes. “You may consider yourself very lucky young Kiramman spoke up for you. The council is in agreement - you will serve a sentence not in the walls of Stillwater but in the service of our fine city so that you may understand that this is a place to protect, not to loot.”
Vi didn’t reply, staring forward with slight shock. A noise came from above her, and slowly the iris began to open again to let in the sunlight as the crowd behind her muttered and whispered.
She stood there, staring at the floor, watching the light spread across as the shades opened, until it spilled over her feet and a hand lay on her shoulder and gave her a slight tug to turn to walk back to the elevator.
Vi obeyed, turning and letting herself be led out of the room by the enforcer who had brought her up.
She only glanced up once, to catch the eye of this Caitlyn girl while walking past her. Caitlyn looked relieved, smiling way too nicely at her with large, shining blue eyes.
Ducking her head back down, Vi walked to the elevator with relief. She wasn’t going to Stillwater. The topsiders seemed happy to drop this now that she was convicted.
She did it.
Powder was safe.
Powder woke up with a gasp, hyperventilating as she clutched her blanket to her chest in an attempt to soothe it down. It did nothing and soon the gasps turned into sobs, deeper and more desperate ones as her body tried to suck in air and let out tears at the same time.
Vi always helped her soothe it down. Rubbed her back and told her it was just dreams.
Just bad dreams. Things in her head. She couldn’t be hurt by things in her head.
But Vi left.
She
left.
Vi just gave up, gave herself in, let herself be taken away, away from Powder.
Because of something Powder did. Vi left.
The gasping sobs were starting to hurt now, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Powder curled up to shove her face into the piled up blanket to drown them out until the lack of air created a vacuum in her chest, slowing her sobs into shudders instead.
Even once she had managed to calm her breathing, Powder stayed curled up in her bunk, in the empty room she and Vi had once shared, wrapping the blanket as tightly around herself as she could against the cold. Normally Vi would hold her, hug her tight, tell her it was okay, wipe away her tears.
And now, Powder couldn’t stop thinking
over
and
over
as she shook with the effort of keeping her sobs quiet and the hiccups that developed at bay, Vi wasn’t here to do any of that anymore.
Never.
Ever
again.
And it was all Powder’s fault.
Seeing the sky was the strangest part, looking up to a vast blank emptiness of blue or grey or black or the weird pinkish orange of the sunset like it was now, whatever it happened to be Vi happened to look up. Just… nothing, not looming buildings or reaching overhangs.
She was allowed free time at this stupid place. This stupid place that gave Vi her own bedroom with a bed even softer and more comfortable than the one in her prison cell, stupid place with it’s hot and filling meals, this stupid place that encouraged her hand-to-hand combat exercises, this stupid place that gave her fresh clean clothes and a stupid clean haircut and told her she was destined to be a part of peace keeping and justice.
She was allowed free time to go outside and stare at the sky in all it’s colours and she hated it so much.
Vi spent her free time outside, whenever she could, breathing the air that was too fresh and doing her best to keep the blue slacks and white shirt she was forced to wear clean only because she didn’t want to give the fucking instructors here any more excuses to act shitty to the poisoned, dirty sump rat forced in this place to ‘set an example.’
No, she spent her free time outside studying the walls, where the stone was rough or stuck out enough that might be a good handhold, where the tall stone turned into iron bar that looked sturdy enough for her to vault over.
How close a spot she could find to the window that marked her quarters so her escape could be as quick as possible.
She had done her part. She’d let them arrest her, let them put her trial, let them sentence her and pat themselves on the back and forget about her and forget about hunting her down.
Running her hand along the rough stones as she walked the perimeter of the military academy, Vi’s fingers finally brushed against the iron bars of the main gate and curled around the cold metal. Coming up to grip with both hands, she leaned her head against them with a heavy sigh.
She clenched her hands against the bars, feeling the metal straight against the skin of her bare palms and grimaced, trying to fight back the urge to strike at the gate. It would be useless, but just to let some energy out. Just to fucking feel something.
“Oh, you’re here.”
That voice—
Vi blinked, looked up, and looked into the blue eyes of the girl from the trial. She looked the same, the straight black hair that shone a little blue in this light and the clean pressed clothes and the prim and proper way she stood that Vi and her gang always made fun of when they mimicked topsides to the point that it was kind of ridiculous this girl was actually standing like that.
She was holding a small leather satchel in her hands.
“You.” Vi said, maybe a bit stupidly. Why was this girl here?
“I, um,” Caitlyn — that was her name, Caitlyn — said with a slight smile. “I came by to, well…” she cleared her throat, holding out the small satchel to a space in the bars of the front gate. “Here.”
Frowning, Vi looked at the satchel and then frowned to Caitlyn. “What’s that?”
“A gift.”
Vi’s frowning expression didn’t change. Caitlyn looked a bit embarrassed.
“It’s for you. Father says Undercity children don’t have much in personal possessions and I thought I would… it’s a favourite of mine.” The girl gave her an awkward smile. “I thought perhaps you might like something while you’re here.”
Still frowning, Vi reached forward and slowly closed her hand around the satchel even as she kept her expression scrunched in a frown. Caitlyn beamed, a bright smile that showed her teeth — a little tooth gap showing as she did.
Vi turned to lean her back against the bars of the fence, holding the small packet in her hand and wondering what the fuck to do about it.
“I was there, you know.”
Vi turned her head slightly to better look through the bars, where she could only see the profile of Caitlyn as her back was still pressed to the gate. She was staring down at her feet.
“When the explosion happened,” the Piltover girl clarified. “I was just outside the door while Jayce was struggling to get it open. After you had jammed it, I suppose?”
Vi remembered grabbing a chair and shoving it under the latch to prevent it turning. “Yeah,” she replied.
Hesitatingly, Caitlyn looked up just enough to peer through the curtain of her hair to catch Vi’s eye. She held her gaze for a breath, a painfully, excruciatingly long breath, before darting to look down to the pavement again. A slender shoulder went up in a hapless shrug as Caitlyn continued to speak. “I think my involvement is why my mother was so upset and acted so harshly. I’m so sorry that almost happened to you.”
“Why.”
Vi’s voice came out raspy, hoarse, her throat and mouth feeling dry and and sticky. She swallowed, trying to clear it when Caitlyn looked back up to register her words. “Why,” Vi repeated, “did you do it?”
Caitlyn seemed confused by the question. “Do what?”
“Stand up for me,” Vi continued, heart thudding anxiously in a way she hated.
The response didn’t do anything to help with Caitlyn’s confusion, though she smiled with almost amusement like one did when a kid asked a silly question. “Because it was the right thing to do,” she said simply. She pushed off the iron gate and faced it instead, letting her delicate, pale fingers curl around the bars to better look Vi fully in the eye. Some hair fell in front of her face with the movement and she tucked it back behind her ear. “No one should be punished that harshly for a mistake.”
“Didn’t think anyone up here believed in that.”
“In what?”
“The right thing.”
There’s a pause, Caitlyn not saying anything or doing anything, nothing other than looking Vi over with an expression that reminded her far too much of Vander — thoughtful, considering, and just a touch of pity.
“Is that what you think of us?”
Caitlyn titled her head slightly at the question and the slight strand of hair drifted back to hang by her cheek. She didn’t say anything else, just stood there at the fence with her hands around the bars, only four bars away from where Vi was leaning back and refusing to face her with a scowl.
Vi didn’t know how long they stood there, but it was long enough that she stubbornly felt like it would be giving in to be the first one to walk away from this.
She heard a small noise from Caitlyn, as if the girl was about to start speaking, when a third voice, an adult man’s, called out.
“Lady Kiramman. We best be going.”
Caitlyn let out a sigh and Vi heard her begin to move away from the fence before there was a pause in her footsteps. Vi distinctly turned her head even further away, refused to look over to the other girl, scowling harder even though Caitlyn couldn’t see her expression and raised her shoulders more defensively.
“Lady Kiramman!” The voice called again and Vi heard Caitlyn take another step away.
And then, “I’m sorry,” her voice said in a way that was too gentle, too kind, made Vi too angry, “I hope you see that we’re not like that at all.”
Vi just let out a grunt, not moving, until she finally heard Caitlyn walk and then jog away. Only once her footsteps sounded far enough did Vi finally turn to look through the bars, only to see that while she was at a distance Caitlyn had also stopped to look back.
They made eye contact and Caitlyn quickly turned away, letting herself be led back down the street by the… Vi guessed servant that walked beside her.
Bells chimed out, breaking Vi out of staring after the Piltover girl. She shook her head slightly to clear it, looking back to the academy building.
Free time was over.
Tucking the book in it’s satchel inside her shirt until she could get it to her small personal room, Vi walked back to the tall building to the next scheduled course of the day, pretending to care about this sentence until she figured out a way to slip out and sneak back home where her free time was never marked with bells.
Back to her family and Powder and leave this entire place behind her, forever.