Unstable Matters Chapter 10: Playing the Fool (Part 3)

Reaching out and grabbing the emptiness, Morgana woke up.

As she looked from the bed to the ceiling, she could see a starry abyss that didn't flicker. These weren't really stars, but a magic hologram that was displayed on the domed roof of her bedroom. It was a techmaturgy projection of a starry sky that was meticulously detailed, no different from what her naked eye had seen for centuries. At seeing her own slender arm, Morgana realized that she had merely been dreaming and heaved a sigh of relief.

And more importantly, she was still on Runeterra.

If she had been home, back to a world where the sun was no different from any other star, the cycles of day and night would not exist. Living without the atmospheric divisions of time had been a necessary sacrifice for leading her exiled kind, and there were times where her heart ached in longing for things taken for granted in her youth. Arriving on Valoran had been shocking in more ways than one, and it must have been a great mystery to the Noxian High Command why someone of her power had been awed by something so common as the sunrising and setting.

Suddenly, she sensed the presence of a person. Two, actually. In this space, everything other than her bed was full of stars and couldn't be distinguished from one another. But the life essence of other living creatures was another matter; it was definitely a human woman was standing silently at her door, but the second was not. "Is it you, Vessaria?" Morgana asked. The air that shook slightly answered her. She watched the slim figure of Vessaria Kolminye, dressed in her Council of Equity robes, walk out from the darkness of the universe and into her bedroom.

Besides finance, political rulings, Institute activities, and other basic decisions, the Council of Equity showed most of its power through the decisions it made over problems brought up about the League of Legends. One single expression from Vessaria could shake crowds and their investments, but she was definitely not some queen of shadowy plots. Having taken over the mantle a year ago, she was used to people referencing the stench of her predecessors in tangent accusations of corrupt coexistences with city-states. Right in front of Morgana was the face of the friend who looked stronger and stronger every day.

However, that nurturing and motherly exterior of a senior Summoner always ready to help her juniors was just a facade. Vessaria herself had a complicated side of delicateness and straightforwardness that could read the hearts of any human. Even Morgana, who had lived for such a long time, couldn't tell what this human who took responsibility for everything, including the truth behind Reginald Ashram's mysterious disappearance, was thinking. However, she would regularly come over to visit Morgana, and not Kayle, showing a cryptic expression that made the fallen angel meaninglessly remember all of her past ties. That was just the sort of person Vessaria Kolminye was.

Morgana was the leader of the exiled angels living in the heavens above, with a following of over a hundred million souls. But it was an undeniable fact that there was no one on Runeterra but this human woman whom she could share her lies.

"How are you?"

The question had been asked as Morgana had risen from her bedding. Vessaria's eyes hid a suppressed emotion that couldn't be explained by the mutual respect the two had forged with each other, ever since the fallen angel had crossed dimensions to reside in the Institute. Morgana reached over to a small glass of water sitting isolated on a small drawer attached to her king sized bed. The only other piece of furniture in the vast expanse of a room.

"Human souls are so fragile compared to my kin. I'm feeling...tired."

Morgana felt the cold water enter her slothed body and sighed. The use of souls and other essences of life as an energy source was not a refined practice. In fact, even in her world the craft had been considered taboo to all angels, exiled or not. On hearing that life vampirism was being researched by the Institute, Morgana had demanded to be placed in charge of every Institute team involved, including the test subjects collection team. Under her watchful eyes only two research facilities and hospitals in the Institute of War dared to experiment with such matters, and those that volunteered for the process were, for all intents and purposes, lab rats in a very dangerous trial and error process.

Morgana would often would use vacations or recuperation as an excuse to gain time in managing the research of the Institute's operations, and her immortal body allowed her to continue ahead of her human counterparts. But the technology in the Institute of War had no chance of producing solid results in the upcoming decades. The Institute was rapidly outpacing its partners in the various city-state on Runeterra, and the information and ethics gap would only be detrimental. Many of the people she had become acquainted with would soon be dead, and half of their children would inevitably follow. Her life and Kayle's stood as a defiant standard against the natural order of things in the human world, where nothing was spared by time.

It was awkward to think how insistent she had become on keeping things alive, given her own immortality. Kayle had probably accepted human mortality for what it was, but for the sake her ambitions, Morgana would be sure to curse those that had sided with her with living with her for as long as possible.

"Has it begun?"

"It has. I was surprised when she first contacted me. Her plan to utilize the Chronokeeper's powers was...unexpected."

"Noxians are like that," Morgana noted, smiling ruefully as she did. "I've never seen a culture who dismisses so many things, only to remember their potential when it matters. For someone without any magical talent, she is quite strong."

"Will you be there at the ceremony tomorrow?"

"Yes. Though I have played the role of a spectator to avoid my sister's eye, perhaps it's time that I take a more proactive approach to solving our problems."

"So it really has come back against us," Vessaria mumbled, sounding humiliated and humbled at the same time. Morgana simply turned back to her ceiling, flexing her wings slowly as she did.

"No. How the world interprets the artifact will determine the fate of this Institution. Even I do not know whether the artifact should be brought to light, or whether it should stay hidden forever."

"Can we trust the Du Couteau brat to keep it safe?"

"No more than we can trust Zed to hand it over," Morgana laughed, covering herself with her wings like an ebony feathered shawl. "We should be thankful that Swain is the type of man who can see the bigger picture of politics. I imagine that little girl will have her own thoughts on how the artifact should be treated, even before she learns of what it is."

"LeBlanc, you mean?" Vessaria said with a touch of concern. "Should we be worried? She could seek to use the artifact against us, after all…"

"Even if she threatens us, we must not show any fear. Fear is a telltale sign of guilt, and there should be no guilt over why such a thing was created." Morgana took pause, considering her own words. "I've taken measures to keep an eye on her. Her paranoia about control will be her undoing, in the end anyway."

"I suppose it's a matter of how much independence Swain wants to keep for himself. It's disguised as an underground dealing, but when the truth comes to light, it will legitimize his reign even further than removing the Darkwills. In his current situation now, revealing it to the world will be his only viable option."

Vessaria had named what was undoubtedly the largest revolution of all on Valoran since the Institute of War's founding. The Darkwill dynasty in Noxus had been founded after the civil war between the occult practicing sects and their militaristic counterparts. With the rise of the military clique and associated nobility, Noxus had developed into a modern city-state whose goals had expanded to controlling its neighbors to feed its own inadequate economy and cultural appetite for blood. Jericho Swain's rise to power had signalled a change in the primary hierarchy of Noxus; a wave of fresh blood to fill the ranks of the military, supported by their own battlefield accomplishments, in place of lineage or wealth. To the world, the Noxus after Kalamanda was like a new fearsome beast, whose thoughts between eating, sleeping, and grooming itself were filled with meticulous plans to continue its ambitious conquest of the world.

Since Jericho Swain had used his privileges as a Champion to circumvent the scrutiny of the Darkwills before his rise to power, it was speculated that anything Swain would do in the future would involve the League of Legends in some way. The world's reception to the news of an arms deal with the Order of the Shadow had been relatively quiet, with the usual parties voicing their concern about everything expected of them. But those in more private circles knew that the world was still waiting with baited breath to see how the new Grand General, who was both a master tactician and politician, would delegate command of his city-state's first virgin international mission. Many suspected that Swain would keep the reins tight to prevent anything from going out of control. No one would have guessed that the leader of the mission would be Katarina Du Couteau, a living ghost of the Noxian military nobility, and three independant Champions from the League with only one having any sort of ties with Noxus.

"No matter what, this is a plan that relies on uncertainty. No matter how much we investigate, we cannot afford to lose anything."

Vessaria hid the shakiness inside her and used a dry and stiff voice to continue. But the way she was hiding her wavering so much, to Morgana, it showed that she still had a bit of youth in her.

"Handing the artifact over to the Council of Elders may have been a nice gesture, but it was also a mistake. We decided to keep so many secrets, but someone with the right of mind should have realized it already. It's not just the Institute of War that's at stake here. Humanity's future should be guided by humans, after all."

"Ever since Ashram left active duty, the Institute has fallen under suspicion by all of the major powers. We are indebted to you and your sister for keeping Demacia and Noxus' voices to a minimum, but the malcontent of the others is beginning to build into something insufferable. It's about time to show them how to live their lives without relying on a common scapegoat."

"This could become a matter of life and death to you. The world won't just sit back and watch. We're straining our authority to its limits, it would seem."

This was the expression and voice of a creature who knew about developing enough authority and influence to get away with murder. On a scale that humanity had never experience. Morgana looked back at Vessaria's eyes, and pictured what her sister would be thinking as well. "There's no need to worry." She said, not only to Vessaria, but also to herself.

"Until they die, those without power can't imagine how much pain and suffering those with power had to bear."

Morgana spoke as she looked up at the starry sky on the ceiling. After a while, Vessaria responded. "You really haven't changed at all, you know." Her gentle voice had some grimace behind it.

The warm voice of her human confidant made Morgana lose her breath. She reached up and stroked one of her wings tenderly. Their ragged and torn appearance had been part of her identity in her homeworld; a visual statement about how she had severed the ties to her past. But on Runeterra she had allowed them to heal, all for the sake of the new image she had taken for herself. Swain had once complimented her on keeping her wings well groomed and kept, saying that they were like the wings of a raven, and a healthy fullness was proof of their owner's beauty and power. His words had been dismissed as the honeyed words of a vulture, but thinking back on it, even Morgana couldn't help but feel a little self conscious.

She then asked herself: "Haven't I changed?"

"I'm just speculating, but if we could be absolutely certain that the Ionian army were really going to converge around the temple, then I, I…"

To the surprise of all the gathered members of the Black Rose society, their leader―Emilia LeBlanc, Matron of the Black Rose Society and one of the strongest sorceresses in all of Valoran―faltered in mid sentence. For a woman who normally spoke with unswerving conviction about everything, especially in front of her following, it was utterly out of character.

"I've been thinking, " LeBlanc finally continued, "that we could use the artifact as a means to get in the good graces of the public once more. Well? What do you think?" Her last words were a tad rushed, as if she were overly self-conscious from her own momentary lapse.

"If, if I understand you correctly, Matron," one of her robed followers said, tentatively, "you'll be ordering us to try to steal the artifact in amongst the chaos in Ionia. If so, Matron, I beg to reply that it is impossible for us as we are now…"

LeBlanc twisted her head toward him, popping the joints in her neck as she did. "What's the matter?" she said, her voice suddenly hardening. "You're not worried about that damned Kitty Kat, are you? Or those three fools she has in tow?"

The shrouded man and the rest of the present members of the Black Rose knew LeBlanc was angry at them for their weak-kneed response. Because they knew what their Matron was really suggesting: going over and around Jericho Swain's divisions of power, in an attempt to gain favor from multiple parties. The first and foremost being the general public of Noxus that had become distrustful of the arcane arts from several generations of propaganda perpetuated by the Darkwill led High Command. To remove Katarina Du Couteau from the equation all together, barring Darius, was as much a political act as a personal one; it intended to make LeBlanc the sole unchallenged adviser to Swain. It would give a black eye to one of the last notable military nobles in power, and put herself in a position to use and be used by the Grand General as she saw fit. In the end, sacrificing the soldiers on the expedition with Katarina would be a small price to pay. How the other three Champions that had been tagging along on the journey would be affected by this was unknown.

"The honeymoon between Katarina and her 'friends' won't last long. Only long enough for some of our agents to get into position," LeBlanc added. "Don't you agree?"

"Why, yes Matron," the man who had answered for them all stroked his mustache, unseen from the magic veil his clothes produced that made it impossible to gleam his real identity visually. "You're quite right. I'm sure, ma'am. The parties you mention, after all, won't be on the same side for very long." The shrouded man wished he had never heard his Matron's words. And he wished that he knew nothing of her plans. But it was too late. He knew. They knew. And now their own positions were again in danger. There was something to be said about expecting gains without being prepared for losses, and yet…

"The… The conditions will be very difficult to meet, Matron."

Turning her back to them, LeBlanc purposefully let her cape swing behind her dramatically as she let her staff tap against the stone floor with her step she took. Pacing a few steps in thought, she then turned back to her flock with the same intimating flare about her. "Well? Why? Speak frankly to your Matron, all of you."

"Assuming that it comes to a fight, we can't control when or where the Ionian army will attack. And we have no guarantee that both the Ionian army and Order of the Shadows will fight each other on open ground. Without an open battle to act as a distraction, it would be clear to others that…we…"

"Hmph. I see your point. But surely it's possible to sneak into the Order of the Shadow for only one night? Perhaps I should do it myself, then?"

"Are you sure about that?" The man immediately regretting asking the question how he did, and decided to amend it. "That would be very dangerous, Matron. The arts and techniques of that order are still a mystery us. And if the Fallen One were to find out, then she would surely punish us for stepping out of line."

"Yes, she would," LeBlanc answered mysteriously. She then turned away from them all once more, smiling thinly as she did. All of the Black Rose members attending knew that their leader had made a decision.

"I will come to a decision soon. I want all of you to be ready for when I do."

LeBlanc did not wait for a reply or rebuttal, knowing that her closet members could sense her discomfort and would save their grievances for another night. Tapping the butt of her staff on the stone floor, she cut the power to the hextech projector she had been using to address the inner circle of the Black Rose from her private study. The unassuming glass ball masked a device of incredible complexity; a revolutionary combination of hextech and sorcery. It was another example of common Institute technology that would take years to replicate in Noxus. Some days she was forced to wonder just how much the Darkwill's influence had put her city-state behind the rest of the world.

In reality, what had bothered LeBlanc more was that her flock had mentioned Morgana's nickname, even in passing. The immortal angel had secretly played her own role in the Noxian revolution, and she had been the first to advocate for magic practitioners having their own branch in the Noxian armed forces. It was the kind of maneuvering LeBlanc had wished she could have been responsible for, but Morgana's imposing history had made it essential for her to suggest such a thing first.

But immediately after, Morgana had withdrawn herself from the changing politics, and gone back to her reclusive hobby of maintaining her bakery. The unpredictable behavior of the angel was nothing new, but LeBlanc could always feel the twinge of paranoia creeping up on her whenever she thought about the immortal harbinger from another world.

The history of Noxus, and all civilizations on Valoran for that matter, were nothing significant in the lives of both Kayle and Morgana. She had never had the chance to talk to the older angel about her common history with her younger sister, and it wouldn't have surprised her to hear that both were the leaders of cultures that had existed for several millenniums. If that were true, it still did not explain why Morgana constantly provided guidance from the shadows, only to withdraw like a reclusive hermit before anything meaningful developed from it. It was a maddening mystery to debate why someone with so much power, and such a prominent history, constantly wavered on her attachment to responsibility like an indecisive child. Even now LeBlanc had no clue where Morgana could be, and no way of getting in contact with her despite their shared responsibilities as Champions representing Noxus in the League.

"Unbelievable," she groaned, pacing at an irregular rate around the study. "The old adage still holds true; if you want something done, you have to do it yourself."

Every second that past, the sun in the sky fell deeper and deeper past the horizon. Soon, the first true test of the information web the Black Rose has created outside of Noxus would be put to test. More than anything else, she would need results. Not just for her own prestige, but for Swain to remind all of Noxus that the occult masters of the arcane were not to be trifled with. The days of hiding were over, LeBlanc continued to tell herself, and soon all of the dreams of generations before her would be made reality.

Sitting back down in her chair, her head felt heavy. Not unlike the kind of pressure that came from subtle shifts in the weather, her own potential for having some budding power of clairvoyance, and experiments with large amounts of large arcana.

As far as LeBlanc knew, she wasn't in the presence of either.

"Tick, tock. Tick tock…"

Muttering to herself, Ahri watched the arms of the clock hanging in her kitchen steadily move at their own agonizingly slow pace. There was still an hour left for Riven and Zac to keep their promise, but sitting alone in her dwelling, she nine-tailed gumiho couldn't shake the intolerable loneliness that was gripping her heart.

Of all the Champions in the League of Legends, she was no stranger to taking what she wanted from others before abandoning them without a second thought. It had been what she had done for years to feed her evolution; stealing the essence of humans before moving on to her next meal. In spite of what had been said, assurances and all, she didn't know why she felt as if the same had been done to her.

A half written letter lay on her kitchen table; part of the report she had promised to send LeBlanc after spending the afternoon hanging around the Secret Weapon. It lay unfinished, because of Ahri's inability to put into words what her heart and mind had felt the entire afternoon.

There was no simple explanation as to why Zac and Riven were intent on throwing themselves in the middle of the next political shitstorm to hit Runeterra after Kalamanda. Chances were there wasn't a logical explanation either. For one thing, both Champions were barely known for doing anything outside of fighting on the Rift. LeBlanc's own paranoia had been shared by Ahri, though she would never admit it. Riven wasn't particularly hard to figure out; just another wandering soul who was waiting on the sidelines, until something or someone would motivate her to return to what she did best. Pride aside, she could even imagine that Riven had struck some sort of secret deal with Swain, all to bring her back into Noxus' while sparing them both the drama that would come from a more formal announcement.

But Zac?

It just made no sense that he would volunteer for something so crazy, unless it really was out of some misguided sense of goodwill. Which was still possible, if the short time spent with him had shown her anything. In that short time she had been questioned, amused, assaulted, delighted, embarrassed, educated, and finally pushed aside and told to wait patiently like a good girl whom everyone did not want involved in their business.

Well, that was going to change. Ahri pursed her lips together in a wicked sneer, balling one of her hands into a tight fist of grim determination.

No one treats me like a child! I'll show them both. The moment they get back, I'll have them both eating out of the palm of my hand! Ahri pumped her fist in the air. No more secrets and...junk! I'll bleed them dry of everything they're holding out on me, and then… And then...

Ahri's ears began to slow droop, eventually flopping down flat on her head as her train of thought slowly ran out of steam. Looking at her own balled fist in frustration, she let gravity push her back onto the plush cushions of her couch with a light thump. From underneath her, her nine tails spread themselves out in a perfect circle before curling inward and protecting her from the world.

"...What is wrong with me?" she asked herself, hugging several of her tails like a plush stuffed toy. "Is this what it feels like to be human? I hate this feeling. How do people stand it..."

Loathing; that was the word for it. A sort of dragging, nagging, weighing regret on her heart. Looking up at the ceiling of her apartment, the answers to her misery were less apparent than they were hours ago. Did she hold it against Riven for excluding her? Or maybe it was against Zac for demanding that she trust Riven's intent as well. Why would he trust a washed up soldier like her, over someone like herself? Did the two share some kind of hidden history? Or maybe it was the miserable exchange that she had been privy to in the Demacian Quarter of the Institute. A jaded reminder of the politics that followed Champions in the Institute; the same kind she was trying to avoid herself.

Knock-knock.

Righting herself up with breakneck speed, Ahri looked the source of the subtle noise that had interrupted her brooding. Was it—?

Knock-knock-knock.

Leaping from her seat on the couch she sprinted to the door, vaulting over an armchair as she did. She struggled to undo the two locks on the door, reaching for the door's knob at the same time. She wanted to swing the door open, hard enough to break its hinges and throw herself at him in. Why the sudden rush of elevated bliss seemed to depend on him, she did not know. Her mind was racing, feeling as if it had been years since they had last spoke. Almost like they were two lovers who had been forced apart, and were now being reunited.

From this ludicrous thought, Ahri found the strength to swallow her emotions. Shaking her head to clear out the flustered blush she could feel on her face, she forcibly stopped herself momentarily to recompose herself.

"Who is it?" she demanded, opening the door only an inch.

"Who are you expecting?" came a slightly sarcastic sounding reply. Not what she had been expecting, but even through the crack in the door she recognized his voice easily enough.

Taking a moment to think, Ahri did her best to hide her excitement.

"Well… A washed up soldier, and a giant green jelly-man. Is that who I am speaking to?"

"...Yeah, that would be us."

"You're back! Welcome home, you two!" Ahri exclaimed, throwing open the door before jumping out to throw her arms around them both. But before she made it halfway out she was stopped forcefully by an open palm, courtesy of Riven.

"I am taking a shower, and then going to bed," the Exile declared, walking around Ahri and into her home without looking back. "We'll talk in the morning. Goodnight."

"What!? Come on!" Huffing indignantly, Ahri turned and glared at Riven's backside for her normal stoic behavior. True to her word, the Exile went right around the corner, before Ahri heard the sound of her own bedroom door being closed. Groaning out loud for her foolish expectations of anything more, she turned back around and was surprised to see Zac holding his arms out expectantly.

"Well? I'm still here," Zac said, holding out his arms still. "I know it might not be the same, but—"

With a level of speed equal to her Spirit Rush, Ahri dove at Zac almost knocking them both down to the ground. Thinking fast, he had managed to grab onto the door frame, letting his feet slide a little so that he did not accidentally slingshot her back into her own home. Returning the hug only after he had balanced himself out, he struggled to not to be squeezed out of his normal portions by the strength of the embrace.

He grinned down at her. "Surprised to see us?"

"...A little," Ahri pouted, still hugging Zac. Unburying her face from him, she could feel a little bit of slimy residue over the tip of her nose. "I was wondering you were going to keep your promise, but I guess this answers that."

"Yeah, well," Zac chucked, scratching the back of his head as he did. "We ran into some complications here and there, but everything went fine in the end. You can trust in me, after all."

"Complications?"

"This and that. Nothing I couldn't beat up," Zac said, flexing his arm muscles as he did. "I'm not as squishy as I look, you know? I may bend, but I don't break."

Looking down at her, he noticed that she was looking up at him with curious eyes. Almost as if he had said that something about him was different, and she was being told to guess.

"...Have you changed?"

"Yeah, kind of," Zac grinned again, his yellow eyes glowing on their own. "I mean… Maybe? Am I taller, or something? I know I'm tall already, but I wouldn't mind being taller."

"I think you have. Not like that, though," Ahri said, blinking in bewilderment. The bio-weapon in she had wrapped in her arms felt like a new man. Maybe not new, but definitely improved. Substantial. Affirmative. Reliable. It was everything that the Zac she had known only a few hours ago held in reserve all of the time. The smiley kid she had teased, goaded, and played with only half a day ago had been replaced by someone else. Someone that she could only trust her animal instincts to discern the difference between.

"I like it," she declared, coming to an immediate conclusion and giving him a self-satisfied smile. "So what did Riven do to you? Huh?"

"Nothing much," Zac said rather elusively, proceeding to duck inside underneath the door frame when Ahri finally let him go. "Just the usual pep talk to get me going. She had some choice words alright, but they were the kind I needed to hear. You wouldn't believe it, but Riven was an officer for more than her sword arm."

"You're not going to tell me at all, are you?" Ahri put her hands on her hips. "Not even a hint?"

"Nope!" Zac said chipperly, walking inside and seating himself on the couch right where she had been sitting. "Hey, it's still warm. Were you waiting long for us?"

"Something like that," Ahri said, trying to sound at least a little miffed. "I was going to save you some of the food I ordered in, but you showed up later than I thought. I hope you got something to eat, so don't expect me to wait on you."

"We still showed up before we promised when we would be back," Zac pointed out. Stretching out along the length of the couch, he laid his feet out and crossed his arms behind his head. "Are you angry at me? Why do you sound angry at me?"

"Anyone would be angry being kept out of the loop on purpose," Ahri said, her hands still on her hips as she explained to him. Her eyes were burning with a righteous indignity that had seemingly come from nowhere. "You come back to my home, acting like everything is the same only a few hours ago? You think I can't tell what she did to you?"

"You seemed fine with it a few...hours...ago," Zac said quietly, rolling over on the couch so that his back was facing her. There was something about her disapproving face that he did not want to look at. "What changed your mind?"

"Just because I wasn't there doesn't mean that I don't deserve to know! If Riven didn't make you promise not to, you should tell me!"

"Yeah, I guess that's right," he admitted quietly just loud enough for her to hear.

"We trust each other, don't we?"

"...Yeah, we do."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess we are."

"And friends don't keep important secrets from each other, right?"

"Yeah, I know they don't."

"So you'll tell me!?"

"Nah," Zac said with a wave of his hand. Still the back of the couch, he could imagine the hopeful and not-so-innocent light in her eyes disappearing. "We all have our secrets, don't we? Isn't that what you told me?"

Without warning, he felt himself being forcibly turn the back over onto his back. Ahri had sunk her nails into him, pulling on him and forcibly rolling him over. Then just as fast as she had grabbed him, she leapt to get on top of him. She swayed up and down for a second, from the combination of the couch's cushions and his elastic body. Now situated on top of him on all fours, she reached out for his face and stretched his cheeks apart with both hands.

"I warned you about patronizing me," Ahri said in a low hiss.

"Maybe you did," he admitted. "I've been very busy. I don't remember a lot of things we talked about, to be honest."

"I could force the answers out of you," she said, leaning in dangerous close to his face. Her eyes were reflecting her predatory nature more than he had ever seen before. Narrowed slits that glimmered in anticipation over the futile resistance of her prey. "You know I have the power to twist your heart. I can wrap you around my finger like a ring, and make you love me."

"Yeah, you could," Zac said back, keeping a calm face despite their proximity. It would have been easy to just throw her off considering their differences in strength, but that wouldn't have been a nice thing to do. "But you wouldn't be happy doing it that way, would you? You would feel guilty over it, and you know it."

"Do you think I would let something like guilt stop me?"

"I think so. It's the only reason you're threatening me in the first place, right?"

"..."

When Ahri didn't answer immediately, Zac took the time to move his arms to his side. Pushing down on the sides of the couch and shifting the contents of his body, his propped himself up. Just enough so that he could get out from under Ahri, while still letting her lay on him if she wished.

"You didn't come here because of the stories about the crazy magic people experiment on all day in the Institute. You came because you were locked in the body of an animal all of your life. Then one day, maybe by fate or chance, you broke out of that body and become something greater. Now you want to see and hear and taste things you never could have understood as just...a fox. You understand how big the world is, outside of the forests and fields of Ionia."

"..."

Taking in her silence with hidden satisfaction, he decided to continue.

"But that was then, and this is now. You know that the pains of mortality, things about right and wrong, are never set in stone. What they tried to teach you one day can change on the next. And now you don't know what to do with yourself. Go can go about every day with people praising you, sending you gifts, but it doesn't mean anything. What's the difference between their affections, and the ones you can force out of them? They both feel empty, am I right?"

"Why did you come here?" Ahri asked, in a way that made it clear that she didn't want to hear any more of his impressions about her. Though her expression had relaxed, there was a still a touch of irritable hurt from what he could only assume was her interpretation of his insensitivity.

"You mean to the Institute?"

"I meant the League. The League of Legends."

"I came here to be the hero the world needs," Zac explained, shrugging at how silly his own honesty sounded. "I came here to fight for the little guy. For the people that don't have the gold to pay for bigger, and more famous Champions to fight for them. That kind of thing."

"Do you think that's what you're doing now?"

"Who knows really," Zac said, making sure that he maintained eye contact with Ahri. He let his expression soften, now that they were talking about himself. "I just want to do my part, I guess."

"That still doesn't explain why you are going out on this crazy journey."

"I have my reasons, like I said before." He mimicked how Ahri had huffed before. "Maybe it's an overly eager sense of justice? Maybe I'm just a fool wandering into the unknown? I don't know what I could tell you. Why do you want to know this all now?"

"I have the right to know don't I? I mean I am sticking my neck out by coming with you as well. Even if I am keeping some things to myself, I deserve to know what I'm getting into."

"Yes you do," Zac conceded, feeling a little humbled by her words. "This may surprise you, but I don't know either. I don't know what's going to happen to us on the first day we leave the Institute of War. It's a scary thought isn't it?" Satisfied that her snake-like expression had slowly disappeared, he decided to pressed back a little. "But is that the only reason? Or maybe you owe something to a certain someone so she can plan around Swain and Katarina?"

He waggled his eyebrows when her furrowed in annoyance. Ahri shifted herself on top of him, pressing her elbows into his chest and resting her head on the palm of her hands. "You knew, huh? I guess I'm bad at keeping some secrets."

"It was kind of obvious. But I don't think that you have any real loyalties to her, right? Maybe you could just humor her so that she doesn't try anything on her own."

Ahri simply hummed in agreement, not saying anything that could be seen as agreeing with him. Content with that alone, Zac laid still suspecting that there was more on her mind that she wanted to talk to him about. Sure enough, Ahri would break the silence a few moments, after making herself comfortable in her new position on top of him.

"Zac, do you feel anything when you look at me?"

He looked at her with an expression that seemed as confused as it was wary.

"Is this one of those questions women ask men that have no real answer?"

"I don't mean it like that! I mean it like…" He watched her roll her eyes, her brow still frowning in her frustration to find the right words. "I know it's only been a few hours, but it feels like I haven't seen you for months. I know how weird that sounds, but I can't explain it. I've never felt like this before."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Zac answered honestly.

"It's so frustrating. When you came back to me tonight, it felt like we haven't seen each other for a very very long time."

"We're going to be seeing a lot more of each other now, if that's any comfort." Zac leaned his head back, resting against the arm of the couch and looking up at the ceiling. "Who knows how long we'll be away from the Institute. This could take a week, or maybe a month. And you know, yesterday if somebody told me that we'd be friends, I'm not sure I would have believed them."

"Are we friends?" Ahri asked, with a rehearsed delicate feminine touch.

"Wasn't that my line?" He almost laughed. "And didn't you get mad at me for saying it?"

"I didn't get mad at you," she countered, waggling a finger at him as she did. All of her tails followed her finger back and forth. "I tried to feign hurt to shame you into feeling guilty. There's an important difference."

"Oh, my mistake. How silly of me not to understand."

"Just as long as you do," Ahri said curtly. "Actually, come to think about it, I don't think I'm going to be sleeping in my own bed tonight. But that's okay, because I think I'm actually happier here."

"I'm sure Riven doesn't mind sharing. It's your bedroom, after all," Zac said, looking at the door to Ahri's bedroom as he did. Aside from the light sound of running water, there was no sign that Riven had ever entered the apartment with him. But the nine-tailed kumiho still laying ontop of him shook her head.

"It's not that. She doesn't trust me still, you know?"

"She doesn't trust anyone. Don't take it personally," Zac said, finding himself frowning at the thought of the white-haired Exile. "I don't think she even trusts me. Even after all the stupid things she put me through too."

"Can you tell me now? And be honest with me?" Ahri asked in a low whisper, and Zac found himself staring at a pair of inquisitive eyes that would never cease their persistence to learn things denied to them. "Is it really something that you have to keep a secret from me?"

He looked over at the door where Riven had retired behind for the rest of the night, and then back to the eyes of the unrelenting force laying on top of him. Normally he would have had the adamant resolution to stand his ground against the feminine wiles Ahri liked to exercise constantly. Maybe it was just a fact of how late it was, or maybe it was that even if he told her the truth, she would probably never believe him. But in spite of all the secrecy he was sworn to, there is something inside of his heart telling him that it was was okay. Just once he could share a moment of intimacy with the cunning fox that he would soon be entrusting his life to.

"You really want to know what she had me do?" he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Ahri gave a silent nod, the look on her face resembling neither the predatory or playful disposition from earlier. She seemed very alert, as if she somehow already knew the enormity of what she was about to be told about.

"Okay, so right after you left…"

Author's note: I've finally finished the last chapter of the starting chapters. Nothing else to say, other than I apologize to everyone who has been waiting for this. A brutal combination of writer's block and real life duties stopped this from coming out sooner, and even now I can't say I'm happy with it.

That being said, I really hope that what I have planned for what's coming next will help me avoid the funk I ran into with this chapter. I can even look into using new Champions like Gnar, Azir, and Ekko, since they came out over the time since I last updated. Who knows what I can create?

As always, drop a review to tell me what you think. Questions, comments, constrictive criticism, are all welcome.