The Deceiver sighed loudly as she trudged down the Noxian wing, ignoring all that crossed paths with her. She was in no mood to socialise. Summoners' pastime was aberrant. LeBlanc never understood how watching two teams make war in a man-made arena was in any way entertaining. It was aggravating at best. Champions were only animals dancing for the amusement of others, bearing their fangs and claws, hacking at their own in a pathetic attempt of sportsmanship and peace. The Institute's "peace" was its biggest ambition. Runeterra's nations had never known peace.
Arriving at her cabin, the Matron ignored the keyhole and instead unlocked the door with a touch, the purple sigil glowing before fading back into the wood. Her head throbbed. She needed rest. Pushing the door open, LeBlanc paused in the doorway.
Her hand gripped tightly at her staff, a burst of magic flaring to life in her free hand. Stepping in, her eyes swept the place. Carefully. The sound of fabric rustling against the sofa turned her attention to the right. The mage distorted a safe distance in that direction and held her hand up in the dark. Seeing the person sprawled out on the sofa, the mage closed her hand and leaned her staff against the wall.
Walking over, she gently let herself fall, seating herself comfortably next to her companion. Caitlyn stirred and cracked an eye open.
"How did you get in here? I don't remember giving you a key."
The Sheriff stared at LeBlanc for a moment before closing her eyes again, rolling over and pulling at the jacket to cover up her shoulders.
"You might want to upgrade your locks." She replied faintly.
The mage narrowed her eyes. A painted nail tapped against her knee in a gentle rhythm. She had wished for some time alone. She was in no mood to entertain. But nevertheless decided to humour the Sheriff. For a short while. With a snap of her fingers, the lights came to life, bathing the room in a comfortable atmosphere.
"I never would have imagined that the Sheriff of Piltover was one for trespassing on private property. Nor that she would collapse on my sofa."
Caitlyn still didn't turn to face the Deceiver. Nor did she answer. LeBlanc's patience was reaching its limit.
"I apologise." An answer eventually came. It was whispered in an earnest voice. "It was not my intention to break in. I thought that you would be in your quarters."
"You wanted to see me?" An eyebrow raised.
Caitlyn nodded and finally sat up. Painfully. Her hands still gripped onto her jacket and for the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Evaine realised that the sniper was pale. That only further furrowed her brows.
"You're hurt."
"Well yes," Caitlyn answered sheepishly, "the Summoners were tending to much more serious injuries. I simply could not bother them for a few scratches."
At this point, the Matron's patience had expired. She gripped the jacket and gave a violent tug. As soon as the coat fell, her anger was gone. Nasty bruises covered Caitlyn's bare shoulders, her dress ripping in several places. Cupping her cheeks, LeBlanc turned Caitlyn's face to hers. Her lips were split and an eye was swollen, already turning a dark blue. Evaine blinked.
"What happened to you."
"I, uh, hit a tree."
The Deceiver was not amused. Caitlyn tried again.
"I ran into Maokai. A few times."
"It seems more serious than just running into him."
"He might have taken a few swings at me."
"The Enforcer's humour is rubbing off on you. "
"I was told that I was too uptight."
LeBlanc rolled her eyes and against her better judgement, told Caitlyn to sit still.
So much for that rest.
She rose from the sofa and went to rummage through her cupboards, hoping that she still had a first-aid kit. And praying that it was still suitably furnished. The Matron rarely used its content and had bought the box out of sheer spite. The rare injuries she sustained would be sealed up and healed with magic. She needn't use anything else.
However, she wasn't taking any chances with the Sheriff. Magic was known to be less effective on non-mages.
Finally finding said box, she opened it and examined its content. Satisfied that it would do the job just fine, she sauntered back over to the couch, where Caitlyn had been waiting patiently. She had folded the coat beside her and sat as still as it was humanly possible.
"Relax. Why so tense?"
"I do feel a bit guilty for breaking in."
LeBlanc shrugged and reclaimed her seat. Grabbing hold of the pliers, the mage started pulling out the splinters embedded in bruised skin. With surgical precision and a gentle hand, the fragments of wood came out one after the other before being discarded in the ashtray. Checking that there were no remains, LeBlanc then retrieved the cloth from the box, followed by a bottle of disinfectant. Taking the top off, she put the cloth to it and dipped the bottle. She then directly applied the fabric over the open wounds and dabbed the surrounding skin. Caitlyn grew stiff and let out a grunt.
"These would have got infected. You should have waited your turn."
"They were still treating the seriously injured. I got out rather unscathed."
Caitlyn hissed as LeBlanc pressed the cloth down on her skin. Evaine ignored her and switched shoulder.
"How fortunate."
"The Summoners were still taking care of Vi when I left."
"Was your officer chopped up."
"I'd rather not say."
LeBlanc gave another shrug and rose off the sofa. Cupping her face once more, Evaine tilted it upwards. Eyes scanned the Sheriff's face and unnoticeably softened when they dived into deep blue.
'You're turning soft, Dear Evaine.'
'Quiet.'
'Is she dear to you? Were you not the one who once said that you would lead the Rose with an iron grip?'
'I am.'
'No weaknesses. Rip this thorn from your side.'
Her head throbbed and no matter how much she hoped to be left alone, the pain would not subside. A soft touch caught her.
"Evaine. Are you okay?" Caitlyn asked gently.
All was still before she dropped her hands to her sides again. Evaine realised that she had been holding her breath. Opening her mouth, she exhaled and reached out to Caitlyn. Tentatively, she brushed a soft cheek with the tip of her fingers. Caitlyn leaned into the touch, her eyes still searching for the Deceiver's. And before she could say anything, LeBlanc retracted her hand and lowered herself instead, her knees sinking on either side of the Sheriff's. Straddling her, she bent over so that their lips were almost touching. The other woman turned away and said nothing.
"Your lips."
"My lips." Caitlyn repeated, hoping that that hadn't come out as a squeak.
LeBlanc paused and then smirked.
"Nothing I can do. Unless you want a kiss to make them better?"
Caitlyn put her hand on LeBlanc's shoulder and gave a small nudge.
"I will be fine, thank you."
"Perfect. Now close your eyes and be still."
Caitlyn obliged and closed her eyes. Gently, LeBlanc ran her hand over the bruise that stained porcelain skin. The Sheriff recoiled slightly but LeBlanc was keeping her head still. With upmost care, she traced the wound and followed it down to the jaw. Before long, the bruise started to fade, the ruined skin breaking off as if it were sand. And then they were still.
Evaine hand rested against Caitlyn's cheek as she drew an image of the woman before her. How long would they be able to continue? A year? A month? The Matron couldn't say. The situation was complicated. She felt attraction for a woman so fundamentally different. She cared for someone that could destroy her and all that she had worked for, in a single moment. Soft voices whispered alluring ends. They spoke of the Sheriff's downfall. Of her demise. Of how a hindrance would be permanently erased. Forgotten.
Grip turned into claws and circled Caitlyn's neck.
A swift end.
And then Caitlyn opened her eyes. This time, it was Evaine's turn to recoil. She dropped both of her hands on Caitlyn's shoulder, her head following suit. She was not able to face that honesty. Not right now. She felt the other woman shift. And place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Everything will work out," she said with assurance.
The Deceiver could just laugh at her confidence. Deceiver indeed. Emotion and worry was not something she did. Weakness was not something she showed. Deceive those around her. Deceive them. Into thinking that you are perfection.
"Indeed. Now darling, you should bathe. I shall find you something suitable to wear."
Caitlyn nodded and rose from the sofa. With weak knees she limped to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, the Sheriff leaned against it and sucked in a breath, her legs shaky for another reason all-together. Evaine was as frightening as she was mysterious. Her hand moved up to her throat and she felt herself gag. Balling her other hand into a fist, she pushed against the door to regain her upright posture.
Sliding the ruined dress off her shoulders, she went the remaining distance to the tub. Opening the tap, she let water flow through her fingers until she was satisfied. Flipping her hair over a still-bruised shoulder, the woman then gathered and captured it in a tight bun sitting on her head.
Caitlyn looked at her reflection and sniffed in disdain. Why should she be surprised? She very well knew what she had been getting into when she had so adamantly chased LeBlanc. Her search for answers and her curiosity had pointed her in the Deceiver's direction. On many occasions could she have given up. But the Sheriff had kept on going until she had achieved what she desired. Maybe even more. The fact that she could now consider their relationship as more than associates baffled her. The Sheriff had wished for them to reach an understanding. At best.
Discarding the last of her clothes, she gingerly stepped into the bath, warmth both soothing and burning her injuries. Sighing against the pain, Caitlyn was still pensive.
Had she really been caught off-guard by LeBlanc's earlier outburst? The mage did seem out of form. Exhausted, even. Much more than she would let on. For a moment, she even seemed vulnerable. The detective shook her head and sank deeper into the water. Shadow still shrouded LeBlanc in mystery. And Caitlyn knew it was impossible to completely solve the enigma that was LeBlanc. She didn't count on it. But she nevertheless would give it her damn best shot.
"You seem lost in thought."
Caitlyn had no time to react, arms circling her shoulders, closing the distance between the two. Evaine settled in to the tub, her legs going on either side of the Sheriff. Fully registering the situation at last, Caitlyn would have leaped a good few meters if LeBlanc had not had her arms around her. In a jumble of incoherent sounds, she tried to turn around, arms however locking her in place.
"Don't turn around Honey. You don't want to put a strain on that tattered body of yours," LeBlanc purred in her ear.
"LeBlanc," Caitlyn said in a strangled voice.
"I thought I would help you with your with your wash."
"I can very much handle myself, thank you."
The Sheriff regretted her usual composure.
"Is my presence unwanted? I can always leave you to your own business."
"Yes, I mean no…" Caitlyn paused and before long, let out a defeated sound. Why did things always end up like they did.
"What was that?"
"Go on."
The answer came slowly and hesitantly. But it was a "yes" in the end. And it put a smirk on her face. LeBlanc reached for the bun and undid the knot of hair, letting it fall over bruised shoulders. Brushing her fingers through it, she was surprised when she heard a yelp. Usually maintaining a pristine image, it was very unlike the Sheriff to be messy. Finger still intertwined with savage locks, Evaine's eyebrows furrowed as they continued their grooming. Before long, a small branch was pulled out of Caitlyn's hair. The mage held it up for a moment before setting it aside.
Reaching for a brush, she set out on combing beautiful midnight tresses. Reveling in the sheer length, LeBlanc handled the task with delicacy and great care. With a repeated movement, she straightened tangled hair, extracting small pieces of wood along the way. Before long, Caitlyn had started leaning into LeBlanc. Blue eyes fluttered shut in bliss. The comfortable warmth and the much-needed care made her lightheaded. A gentle nudge surprised the Sheriff back into a sitting position.
Satisfied with the result, the brush was discarded for a bottle of soap. A sigh of pleasure escaped the Sheriff's lips, soft hands gliding over her skin. Sinking further into the water, she closed her eyes and let the Matron take care of her again.
"Don't get too relaxed now."
Caitlyn was pulled from her reverie when arms dipped under her own, hands drawing circles across her stomach, slowly drawing upwards. Caitlyn jumped and caught the hands in mid-act.
"I can take it from here, thank you."
A cackle was the only response she got. Putting some space between them, the mage leaned back in the tub and made herself comfortable, allowing her eyes to drift shut.
Water splashed over her face, but she ignored it. A sheepish voice came from somewhere above her.
"Sorry."
LeBlanc waved a hand and motioned for her companion to continue. She had wished for a lie-down. This was close enough.
"We agreed on not doing questions."
Caitlyn paused her hair drying and stared at LeBlanc's back. Going through her closet, the Deceiver was in search of something to wear.
"I know."
"Then no questions. I am adamen-"
"Why Emilia?"
LeBlanc abandoned her quest and turned on her heel, eyes narrowing at Caitlyn.
"What about Emilia?" She had damn-well known that it was impossible to keep Emilia from Caitlyn. No matter how hard she would try. Although she avoided the subject for the better part of their time together, the moment had probably come to reveal the Matron.
Only very few knew of Emilia. And what she was. Fewer were those that carried the knowledge without being part of the Black Rose. What use was there in telling the Detective?
'Ah. Another step into the grave.'
"Caitlyn. You promised."
The Sheriff hesitated.
"I know I did… but…"
"But you are too curious," LeBlanc sighed and went over to seat herself beside Caitlyn. She wrapped herself in the blanket that Caitlyn was using and scooted closer to her partner. A feeling of fondness washed over her, and she couldn't help that smile pulling at her lips. Their relationship was improbable. It was ludicrous and much out of character. Evaine was much aware of that.
"You naughty girl." There was a slight pause, Evaine wondering how to best broach the subject. Eventually she shrugged, deciding that there was no best way to start her story. "You know who LeBlanc is I presume."
"A name. A title. Passed down through generations."
"Call it what you must. But yes. LeBlanc is a form of immortality. Each new Matron inherits the memories and powers of their predecessor. From generation to generation. LeBlanc is a well of knowledge and magic. One unlike any other. I suppose it should be a great honour to receive the mantle."
Evaine paused as if to check that Caitlyn was still attentive. She was. Her eyes were solely focused on her and she made sure to not lose a single piece of information. LeBlanc scoffed. And continued her tale.
"Emilia was my mentor. She was known to be one of the greatest Matrons to have led the Black Rose. Her accomplishments were an endless list that reached no end. And so, I decided that inheriting both the names Emilia and LeBlanc would bring a certain... Assurance to my future acolytes."
"The members of the Black Rose."
Evaine bowed her head.
"Indeed. The transition from the last Matron had to be flawless. No-one had to know that Emilia had already chosen her successor. And so it was done. I inherited the name and the mantle in the quietest and most discreet of ceremonies. The passing was made in secret. And here I am."
"And here you are." Caitlyn repeated the words in a whisper and reached out to put a hand on Evaine's forearm.
"You inherit a name. You inherit a nation. The Black Rose becomes yours to rule. That is not to say that I have complete freedom over my will. Emilia... LeBlanc is present as ever. Right here." A manicured finger came to tap at the side of her head.
"I have inherited the whims of the previous LeBlanc. But Emilia is particularly loud. On some days, I can barely hear myself think."
The conversation paused and Caitlyn had that expression. The one she had when she was absorbing and carefully organising a great amount of information. Because believe it or not, she did have an expression for that. It was one of the many quirks that LeBlanc had observed over the past few months.
"Were you someone else before you became LeBlanc?" She finally asked. Her eyes were bright. She was hunting for information. And just like she had been for the past hours, LeBlanc humoured her.
"Oh yes. Very much so. Evaine was different in every aspect. She hardly believed that she would one day be at the head of one of Noxus' most powerful organisations."
"You speak of her as if she were a different person."
"That's because she is. Evaine died when LeBlanc chose her as a successor. Her name vanished and everything that she was was wiped clean."
"I have heard some call you Evaine."
"As irritating as it might be, yes they do. I mentioned that the ceremony to become LeBlanc had taken place in secret. There were however followers that had attended. That knew of the passing."
"And Elise is one of them."
"That woman always has been up in my business. But yes. And she and Vladimir still insist on calling me Evaine. The Spider Queen finds too many discrepancies with the previous Matron to consider us as one and the same person. She therefore refuses to call me anything else but Evaine."
"Are you not sad?"
"Sad?"
"Of losing your name and identity."
LeBlanc leaned back into the sofa. Her hand reached out to Caitlyn's as she best searched for an answer.
"I am not sad. The person that was Evaine is irrelevant. Her past, her future, her ambitions have all been wiped. In order to leave LeBlanc with a perfect vessel. There will be imperfections. Instances when LeBlanc's hold is weaker. And that is when Evaine shines through."
Her voice trailed off. Story time was over and Caitlyn knew that she would get nothing more from the Deceiver tonight. She should consider herself lucky that Evaine had been in the mood for sharing. It was in instances like these that she truly felt like she was getting somewhere with her. That although not much had changed on the surface, distances had already been covered by the two women. And that made her happy. More happy than she thought it would.
She felt the Matron lean on her. And somehow, nothing at that moment seemed wrong. Caitlyn shifted and made herself comfortable.
'LeBlanc?"
The woman gave a tired hum.
"I am truly glad that I got to meet Evaine."
The mage scoffed and said nothing more.
And for this time only, Caitlyn decided that she would happily sleep on the sofa.
