This one's not for the faint. Have fun!

"We have a few questions for you, and we expect you to answer them, Vladimir."

The haemomancer didn't say anything, but gave a half-nod in compliance.

The series of questions were dull in Vladimir's eyes. Mostly directed about the limits and parameters of his power and naturally every other one was punctuated by some variation on "do you promise to use these powers for the good of Noxus?".

He didn't lie through any of his answers, though a good deal of them were half-truths – giving away the secrets of haemomancy wouldn't do well at all.

Three things stuck out in particular however. The first was when Delia told him that the research team of mages they'd sent to the Temple had uncovered nothing, Vlad responded by telling her that the secrets of the Temple would only react to blood magic, and that he requested some of the red lichen growing around the area would be harvested for him. Delia complied.

The second thing of note was the Grand General. Swain didn't speak once throughout the entire meeting, staying completely silent with both he and his ravens gaze unmovingly transfixed upon the pale man. Even in quietness, he commanded the room. Swain was more than just an observer, but Vlad couldn't discern what his intent truly was.

The third thing of interest was when one member – a fat, white-maned man in elegant finery whose blood flow didn't match up with what Vlad saw – asked him about the potential in blood magic for resurrection.

"Resurrection? In what sense?"

The man waved a hand airily, though it seemed unnatural for his body to do so. "Noxus and Zaun frequently work together in order to prolong the lives of those who should have fallen long ago. However, we have yet to find a way to raise flesh that has since ceased. We need a new icon for Noxus to rally behind, and unfortunately the perfect candidate rests in his tomb. Is there any way blood magic might be able to…circumvent our problem?"

Vlad pondered for a second. "It's a simple task to turn a corpse into a puppet, provided that fresh blood flows through their vessels at the time of raising. Slightly more complex is giving an individual cognitive function, and they'd still be linked to their master."

"What about complete autonomy?"

Vlad closed his eyes for a moment and searched the archives of knowledge accumulated by blood mages before him. "…Yes, there is a way. But it's difficult and risky. We would need blood, both powerful and linked to the revenants past. We would also need other blood, a sufficient amount to fuel the creature's independence. Naturally, I would need to conduct the ritual. Should it fail, at best the corpse will return to stasis, and at worst we would have a violent, unkillable warrior – depending on the revenant's actions in life, of course."

"But it's possible?"

"Yes, it is."

The man looked pleased and exhibited a cat-like grin, which looked tremendously unsettling on his circular, multi-chinned face. For a split second, he turned his eye to look at the Grand General, as if there was something between them unspoken.

A few more questions were posed to Vlad, and then the meeting ended. As people filed out of the hall, he couldn't help but notice the fat man talking quietly with Swain at the back of the room, and how even though her master's eyes had shifted focus, the raven atop Swain's shoulder still stared at Vlad, even as he walked away.

Several weeks had passed since the meeting.

Since then, Vladimir had spent most of his days buried in his library, foregoing and minimizing time with the outside world. Alastor wouldn't see him all the time either. For after the first week after the meeting, his ward would disappear from the premises entirely without warning, only to be found hours later. He later noted that these disappearances would typically occur in the evenings, though they had no specific times fixed to them. Sometimes he'd be back just after sunset, sometimes he wouldn't return until the moon had begun its descent.

The butler did not go out of his way to follow the boy, but he could make an educated guess with regards to his evening disappearances. He could tell Vlad was enraptured by the glamour of the capital and he could feel a hint of vanity in his demeanour, but there was a certain secrecy and shame when he tried to address it.

Alastor tried his best to befriend the lad, and even took him riding once. He noticed then how all the months of digging through medicine textbooks had aided his ward in magically rejuvenating himself from the sickly, terrifying state he was in when he arrived. As he helped him balance on the saddle, he was impressed by the newfound strength of the boy, by the way his form was now lean rather than sickly. They both legitimately enjoyed the lesson, even shared a laugh on the way back. Noticing an opportunity to influence his ward, to help him integrate in society after six years under the influence of a deranged misanthrope, Alastor stopped him at the threshold of his mansion.

"Master Vladimir," he started." the way you've changed in the past months has been more than impressive. When I saw you for the first time, looking barely sane or alive, I would never have believed that you would turn into the young man who stands before me now."

"Thank you, Alastor," his ward smiled and leaned towards him in curiosity. The butler was not the one to give long speeches. Most of the time he would stand silent, ask questions and take numerous mental notes. But the mage could feel a change was about to happen.

"Your impressive transformation has convinced me of the grand path that lies ahead of you. But there is still so much work you need to do to achieve the greatness and power you are destined for, which was no doubt the ultimate aim of your return to Noxus. I myself am a proud Noxian, and my family has thrived under the shadow of the Circle for many centuries, and as such I can tell you that while the present Noxus parades with raw power, be it magical or not, it is not enough. No matter how magnificent your art is, you are but a single man in the heart of an empire built on strife and warfare. You will not forge a great destiny if you stay buried in your library all day and night - you need to seek out your allies, sir. Banquets, balls, hunts and raids - this is where history is made. If you stay in your mansion, leaving only to observe the city and daydream of its grandeur, you will be nothing more than a puppet for the Circle and whoever wants to buy your services, a tool which will sink into obscurity as soon as it becomes redundant."

I know, was Vladimir's initial reaction, and he was not sure if he had spoken the reply or not. For a moment he lost control of his reactions, feeling how Alastor had nailed the simple truth of his self-imposed isolation, which he interrupted only when he left to watch the Noxian nobility in their easy, yet extremely complicated lives.

He somehow managed to communicate so much without saying anything. In the seconds it took him to shake of the surprise at his butler's speech, Alastor inferred enough of what he needed to know, his piercing gaze suddenly felt soft and kindly again.

"Thank you, Alastor," stammered the before rushing to his quarters. "I will think about what you said."

Vlad wore a grey-brown hooded cloak when had he left his mansion, hiding his unnatural white hair and red eyes from the gaze of curious passers by. He tossed the garment aside when he came back from one of his evening walks, his eyes still resting from the lights of the outdoor ball he had observed from a distance.

As he passed through the guestroom he jumped, started by the presence of the unknown woman sat in an armchair, looking through his handwritten medicine notes.

"Good evening, sir." Said the girl.

"Good evening." The puzzled young man replied, getting ready to berate his butler for letting strangers in the house.

"Oh, Mr. Bucephalus left." She said. "But he invited me over…he said you would be interested in talking to me."

"Who are you?" Spat the mage.

"You can call me Lily. And you're Vladimir, from what I he told me. Handsome name. It means 'who rules the world', but you probably know that."

Did she not have a surname, a disinherited child like him, or a bastard? "Is that your real name…?" He asked, hopeful that he'd found a kindred spirit.

"No, it's not my real name, silly."

Oh, she's a whore. A voice at the back of Vlad's mind said with disdain. Dmitri, contemptuous as always.

Dmitri hated humanity, but not as much as he hated women, as they were the conduits of humanity's procreation. The amount of punishment the novice had earned for showing interest towards the opposite gender was abysmal. Once they had a female captive, an extraordinarily beautiful one. Dmitri noticed his apprentice's interest towards her and had struck her down with cruelty the likes of which the boy had not seen, even from him. When the cold corpse retained its beauty and Vlad had sneaked out at night to marvel at it, the master haemomancer had noticed and followed his apprentice, only to make the dead woman explode before the boy's terrified eyes.

The Crimson Reaper has no time for debauchery, the old man would say.

The Crimson Reaper. That was Dmitri's pet name for Vladimir, a reference to his protege's occasional bouts of extreme violence.

But Dmitri was dead, and all that was left from him was an irritating voice at the back of the youth's mind. A voice that took significant energy and willpower to banish, rendering him speechless in the face of the stunning woman in his room.

She was of medium height, blonde, as youthful and succulent as a ripe fruit begging to be picked and tasted. Her outfit was not too revealing and left much to his fantasy, but nevertheless he could tell her body was at least as stunning as her face.

In the end, her gentle curiosity and sweet words managed to force replies out of him. Dmitri gave up and retreated, warning his successor that this would end badly.

"So… you are an escort, then?"
"I am. Although I cannot believe someone like you would be in need of my services." She giggled.

A sting of paranoia caused his interest to recede.

"I'm being honest. You're quite handsome, as far as lads go."

He had been trying, he had honestly been trying to look like the marquises and counts that would occasionally cross his way in Noxus. He'd stay clean shaven and grow his hair, but the evidence of his mutation (which had been the reason for his disinheritance) would stare him in the face every time he looked at the mirror.

"Do my red eyes not seem unnatural to you? Is my white hair not like that of an old man?"

But Lily laughed at his insecurities, a laugh which seemed honest above all, as if she had seen boys worry about nonsense many times before.

When seconds later she reached out and ran a hand along his cheek, the sensation causing the hairs on his neck to stand on end, she said:

"I had to touch you, to make sure you are not a marble sculpture."

But her touch did not end there and her small hand beckoned his gaunt cheek lower, towards her face. Vlad followed her lead, until her lips touched his.

"Lock your lips with mine." She said.

It was surprisingly easy once she got him going. The motions he had to repeat were simple and immensely pleasurable, and Lily was sweet and passionate and seemed to enjoy his clumsy, inadequate touch. She undressed and pushed him back on the armchair, letting him observe her for a moment. The wonders of nature, the young mage thought.

He knew the biology of it all too well, but the emotional, human side was entirely new to him and he absorbed every detail.

She gasped when she revealed his flawless pale flesh. He was still thin, but in a boyish, rather than in a skeletal way. His eyes closed as he enjoyed her kisses and caressed and shot wide open when she took him in her mouth. She responded to his startled gaze with a small smile, but did not read the immense kick of power he got from a woman kneeling before him, degrading herself to please him.

Vladimir lost his virginity that night, and every second left him wanting more. Lily rode him at first, her motions resembling a sensual, primal dance, and then let him take control and finish.
He made her promise she would return as he sent her through the door.

Alastor, who had obviously been the one to arrange the entire event, did not betray even for a second that he was behind this. Vladimir figured it out instantly and did not speak to him about it, but his subtle gratitude remained to strengthen the bond between the two men. They would speak more often, with the lad often asking for advice on how to behave or carry himself. The middle-aged man was happy to help.

Vladimir visited Lily again and again, failing to get enough of her each time. Soon the basic acts got boring for him and he started pursuing other goals. He had her teach him everything about her, everything she knew about women and how to please and seduce them.

"Most of all you have to keep your eyes and ears open," she would say." Study your lady carefully. I have been with plenty of women and when it comes to love, no two are alike."

Even that was not enough for the Haemomancer. He had to experiment, to see what his powers could do to the opposite sex. Lily was mostly unsuspecting when it came to the nature of his craft.

"Why do you read all this medicine? Are you a healer?"
The corners of his lips stirred.

"No."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me. I imagine Noxus has a use for you, whatever it may be."

She was not stupid, and not a bad person. But to him it was all the same. Once the gentle enchantments got boring, Vlad was filled with a sort of sadistic complacency, as if he owned the girl. He started pushing her boundaries, violating her defenseless body through both dark sorcery and the strength of his newly acquired muscles.

Until one day, high on adrenaline and irritated at her resistance, he murdered her.

It was a careless, thoughtless act, yet the crimson bloom that surged forth intoxicated him beyond belief, and lead to him experiencing a mindblowing, almost painfully good climax.

They were not at his mansion, so he commanded the blood that spilled from the open wound on her neck towards him, and absorbed every single drop before donning his large hooded coat and rushing off, confused, into the night.

The reality of what had happened only struck him when he passed the threshold of his mansion. Feeling the approaching storm and trying his best to avoid Alastor, the mage morphed into a crimson mist and sneaked into the attic through the space beneath the door. Once there, he solidified and retreated into the shadows, surrendering to the voices in his disturbed mind.

There was Dmitri, of course. Vlad was surrounded by complete darkness, but could see his red-eyed master in the corner of his eye. He had white hair and the long, matted beard of a hermit, and wore the same set of rags he called a robe as when his apprentice had slain him.

"Did I not warn you? You don't belong here, boy, my Crimson Reaper." Disgust lined Dmitri's temper like poisoned veal.

Vlad hadn't meant to kill her. On a conscious level he was terrified at how easily he had lost control over his murderous impulses, and how sweet and sensual bloodshed had felt after all this time. It had made him doubt his sanity and the control he had over himself.

"But it is in your nature, same as the white hair and red eyes you were born with."

Truth is, he was never meant to fit in with society, even a society as fierce and unforgiving as that of Noxus, as the law of the state was as important as the eternal power struggle that sustained it. A good Noxian could balance his race towards the top with whatever sin he carried in his blood. Vladimir was not a good Noxian, and not a legal Noxian, having been born to incest. Everyone could see that in the recessive mutation he had inherited, and in the madness which crept through him and threatened to destroy his life.

And it had managed to do so, once before.

"So why did you return to Noxus in the end, boy? Why did you not stay to finish my life's work? Further our noble art?"

"I wanted more than your smelly province, Dmitri," He replied to the shadow, voice weak and doubtful. "I wanted Noxus, I wanted the seat of power and the spotlight of history."

And his master laughed at him, as he had laughed the previous times Vladimir had confessed his desire to return to his homeland and rule.

"How are you going to achieve that? By murdering everyone who steps in your bedroom? You can barely control your own head and hands, let alone a country."

The youth buried his fingers in his hair, almost pulling strands out. A sickening wave of self-loathing washed through him, nailing him to the dusty floor and the cobweb-covered wall.

He leaned back, trying to comprehend how deeply and powerfully he'd messed up.

"She was not some street hooker," He whispered to himself." Lily was exquisite and expensive. And she was not a bad girl. She was not a stupid whore."

And yet when his mind's eye saw her naked body, ample chest drenched in blood, crystal blue eyes frozen in eternal terror, the frenzy returned, only fuelled by his hatred. Dmitri retreated, dissolving into guilt and paranoia, and the boy's hands moved almost against his will. He came into his own handfuls, not caring to get up and wipe the stains, but instead froze in the darkness, weighted down by immeasurable self-contempt.

Alastor found him, eventually. His kindly disposition did not even shiver when he was met by his ward's guilty, bloodshot eyes.

"Are you alright, sir?" He asked. "Do you need anything?"

"No," Groaned the young man, "I want to die, Alastor."

"Afraid I can't allow that, sir."

The butler pulled him to his feet and lead him to the living room, trying carefully to clean the dust and cobwebs off his master and offer him a fresh set of clothing rather than the curtain he had wrapped around himself.

He had brewed him a pot of chamomile tea, hoping to calm him down, when Vlad finally spoke again:
"I killed her."

"I know."

The mage looked at him from underneath his eyebrows.

"So what now then?"

"Not much, sire. The moment we accepted you in this mansion we knew that you are a danger to yourself and others."

"Did Lily know?"

"I am unsure of that, my lord. I can say with certainty that in her trade – especially as sought-after as she would have been – she would have had to be prepared for risks like this."

The mage buried his face in his hands again, and spoke from the relative safety he felt hiding his expression:

"You arranged this then, knowing full well that she was going to die?"

"I have seen worse from the weapons that Noxus has called people before you."

"Alastor…" Vlad waited a bit to manage to arrange his thoughts, to express the confusion he was feeling into words." When you told me I needed to integrate into society, I thought you believed I had a chance. I can't do it, not in this condition."

His butler handed his entire breakdown calmly and professionally, as if he had seen this before.
"You are very naive to believe you are the worst we have dealt with, master Vladimir. We always find solutions, even for the most insane and unruly of our disciples."

"How does the Circle plan to solve me then?"

"If it was up to the Circle, they would do nothing and let you rampage to your heart's content. A powerful blood mage is worth more than fifty dead escorts. But I legitimately care about you, sire. I see great potential in you, both magical and political, and further I know sitting in your room and accepting the occasional sacrificial lamb is not what you desire."

Vladimir lifted his face from his palms and looked at the butler, unbelieving.

"Master Jericho Swain and I have been discussing an option that might just prove what you need. But you will have to work hard towards it. It is a powerful new institution, and it requires a unique skillset from its… champions."

Him, a champion? He found the thought hilarious.

"You have to be both a virtuoso in your art - which, judging by your performance in front of General Darius - you already are, but also a great entertainer. You'll have to be interesting, sir, equal amounts of humorous and curious." Alastor paused. "But what it might provide you with, is an outlet for your bloodlust. From what the Grand General told me, you may kill and kill without consequence."

"What is this… thing, then?"

"Swain would like you to join the League of Legends."