A/N: You thought I was done, huh?

Think again. :D


Tendrils of dark magic crept through the room. It filled every crevice it could find and blanketed the floor with a swirling purple mist.

Sweet promises of nothingness whispered against his skin. He shook the mist off when it crawled over his back.

The echoes of pain and suffering echoed in his ears and the ghosts of the damned crawling towards him filled his visions. He shot to his feet and glared at the door. "Begone, witch."

From the shadows came forth an ethereal figure – so frighteningly beautiful a man could have dropped dead at her feet if she asked of them. She had skin as pale as the moonlight, yet touched by a hint of lavender. She wore her hair as wild and dark as the silky dress dragging along the ground behind her. All of this held no candle to the burning intensity of her eyes, or the chain-bound wings on her back. "If only it were so easy to banish one with words, then history would not be the way it was."

Honeyed words so sweet, it was easy to lose oneself in the message behind them.

He, however, would not be swayed so easily. He fought long and hard for this. "What do you want?"

"I come not to take your life, my dear Sylas," she cooed, wiggling her fingers in his direction. Once she stepped out of the moonlight and back into the shadows, it swallowed her up until only her glowing eyes remained. "I come with a warning."

"How did you get here with magic? It's impossible."

She laughed loudly, the melody in her voice bouncing off the walls long after she stopped. "Impossible? My dear, you do not realize who I am, do you? I've walked these grounds a long time ago. It has not changed, except Zeffira is now in ruins."

He stiffened and braced himself as she glided across the room. He could feel her magic practically swallowing him whole at this proximity. If only she'd get close enough so he could snatch some of it and blast her out of here -

"I know what you intend, my dear. It will not work. You cannot possess the magic of a Celestial."

So that's what she was. "You said you came here with a warning."

Her face reappeared in the moonlight, but briefly enough for him to catch a hint of a smile on her lips. "Yes, a warning. I'll put it simply – cease your advances on the Great City of Demacia, and your judgment shall be less severe."

Sylas scoffed and grabbed his chains, ready to throw them at the woman. "Madness, we've come too far to stop this. We must – and will – reclaim what has rightfully been ours this entire time. No Dauntless Vanguard, no Lightshield, no motherfucking Celestial is going to stop me."

Suddenly the voices stopped echoing and the mist ebbed away. She stepped from the shadows and her hands emitted an ugly glow. "Heed my warning, young child. What I offer is redemption and atonement for the pain you have inflicted on the people. Stop now, and there may be yet a chance for you to live."

Sylas sneered at her and lashed his chain at her. A swirling orb of purple magic erupted from the ground, surrounding the woman and shielding her from the oncoming weapon. It bounced off as harmlessly as a stone against a wall.

She narrowed her eyes. "Is that what you've decided then?"

He didn't gratify her with a reply.

She sighed, eyes vanishing briefly from sight. "I gave you the opportunity as I have done for others centuries past. What you do now is beyond my hands – should you continue your course of action Sylas, you have no grounds to come back to me."

"I have no desire to seek this 'forgiveness' you promise, wench."

The mist faded away and so did her presence as she sank back into the darkness.

"No, but you should ask that of my sister when she finally returns to Demacia. And last I remembered, the Winged Protector is not so kind to those who sin like you."


They had been in the middle of a discussion when the doors opened and a clean-cut man stepped into the room. Fiora waved Nera off, watching her play the perfect role of an obedient servant and left them alone. He bowed courteously, though it was more out of habit than required formality. "Fiora."

"Ammdar," she greeted politely, standing up from behind the desk. There was just a little too much light coming through the windows and filling the room, highlighting how pale he was from spending so much time indoors. He could use a little more sunlight, she mused but put that thought away when he scratched his cheek nervously. "What is it?"

"We have company. Lady Crownguard-"

"Lux?" She interjected a little too quickly, hopefully. Ammdar raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly.

Fiora shrank back, cheeks tinting pink at her embarrassment.

"Non, it is Lady Augatha Crownguard." She felt her hackles raise when her brother corrected himself. "Whilst I do not approve of her presence on our grounds, she is a Crownguard and as House of Head Laurent-"

The duelist waved her hand to cut him off before he could finish. "I know, mon frère. There are days I wish I wasn't so."

Ammdar smiled and followed her when she stepped out of the office space. Compared to the small manor Fiora escaped to on the regular, the main estate was far too similar to the rest of the noble houses for her liking. White walls and white ceiling. Everything was white and filled with petricite to the point it snuffed out magic as quickly as blowing out a candle. At least the foyer was made of polished marble – a compromise she made with the architects when it became apparent the blood she dragged back would not wash out easily.

And unlike her simple manor, all manner of their house symbols and artwork were plastered over the walls much to her dismay. But she did not dictate that part of décor, dreadfully enough.

"If it weren't for you, we still wouldn't be in Demacia. But things are different now, sœur." They stopped short of the grand doors leading out to the front. He placed his hands on her shoulders and a frown lined his features. She forgot how many years her older brothers were starting to accumulate now – was he thirty, forty now? Married for sure, perhaps with children but she had been so busy with so many affairs as of late even her brothers fell to the wayside. "We would give our lives to protect you no matter what happens. What you do for us, for Demacia, is admirable and beyond what our father could ever do." She leaned into his hand when he held her cheek in a coarse hand.

"I would take up the mantle if it means bringing the light back to you. You deserve happiness after all you've done."

She knew, everyone knew. They couldn't stand there forever however and she cleared her throat quietly. "What did she request? Did she say?"

Ammdar shook his head regretfully. "Non, I'm afraid. She only asked to see you in person. Privately, I might add."

Unusual, but whatever Augathat had up her sleeve, she was ready to fight back with everything in her arsenal. Straightening her back and running a hand over her face, Fiora prepared herself to meet with the last person she wanted to see in the world.


"Good afternoon, Miss Laurent." Augatha gave her a short curtsy and Fiora responded with a curt bow of her own.

"Good afternoon, mademoiselle," she replied. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

The older woman tightened her grip on the shawl around her shoulders and glanced around the property. "A friendly visit. I was hoping we'd sort out some differences we've had in the past and make peace."

She smelled a trap, but went along with it to see where it would lead. "Perhaps we can speak in our private garden. Would you care for any refreshments?"

"Something warm, perhaps." Warm? The noontime sun afforded them plenty of sunlight and the heat to go with it. The end of spring was a much fairer deal in Demacia and even Fiora had opted out of her usual suit in favor of a loose blouse. Still, if she requested such the duelist saw best to fulfill it to keep up a positive image in case this was all just a ploy. She led the matron of Crownguard through the estate grounds, most of which was comprised of carefully kept hedges and lawns and a level, gravel path. The garden, unlike the greenhouse at her manor, was open and spacious enough to accommodate any number of visitors, though she made it a point to find one of the tables in the sunlight.

When a servant came forth and asked Fiora what she needed, all she asked of him was to find Nera and prepare some tea.

"Tea? An unusual selection." Fiora realized her mistake and regarded Augatha carefully. She observed the duelist with a curious eye, though the young Laurent didn't find anything amiss about it. "I figured you would be the type for something a little stronger, perhaps a light wine."

"Far too early in the day for something like that," she replied, taking a seat opposite of Augatha. She folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs. "I do not wish to rush you, but I do have some matters I must attend to..."

Augatha leaned forward. "I wanted to personally invite you to my daughter's wedding."

Bingo. That was it. Fiora fought the urge to shoot to her feet and slap the woman across her cheek for adding insult to injury.

"There are many coming to the wedding – after all, it is not everyday two of the largest households in Demacia merge into one. But seeing as Luxanna had been on good terms with you, I thought it would be best to extend a much more inclusive invitation to you seeing as she has been preoccupied with the preparations."

Dreading, more like, Fiora mused in her head, remembering her late-night visit a few days ago.

"I will not lie," Augatha began, a little less burdened by what she came here to do. She leaned back and closed her eyes, soaking in the sunlight. "I am aging, and my time is coming to a close. I can feel it in my bones and I tire more easily than I used to."

Fiora placed her fingers over her lips when she spotted Nera approaching with a tray and took it from her quietly.

Hide yourself, quickly, she mouthed.

Nera nodded and made herself scarce before Augatha noticed her presence.

"It is a shame that we must age as we do," the duelist replied, placing the teapot on the table and pouring out some in a couple of cups. Piping hot, and hopefully to Augatha's liking.

The older woman nodded and when she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to see Fiora pouring out some tea for them both before being handed a teacup. She held it in her hands for a moment and studied her as the duelist sipped quietly from her own. "You must be a cultured woman. Only Ionians would pour tea for their party before themselves."

Fuck.

"It's nice to see that there still exists some manner of courtesy in a Demacian."

That completely took Fiora off guard and she set her teacup down as Augatha indulged in her own. "Excusez-moi?"

Augatha shivered despite the warmth all around them. "When I said I came here to make amends, my dear, I meant it." She frowned and locked eyes with Fiora. Her eyes were hollow, gaunt almost, and it made Fiora pity her to some degree. "Our family was wrong to push you so early into a marriage. I know there is no amount of forgiveness to replace the loss of your father, but do understand I come with only good intentions."

Fiora locked her jaw at the mention of her father, but remained quiet to let her continue.

"Seeing Luxanna getting married to Prince Jarvan made all of us happy, but I have never seen her so miserable in my life." The older Crownguard set her teacup down. "I do not wish to repeat mistakes. I am a mother, and no mother wishes to see their child upset. It is why I came to you, with the hopes that perhaps if she had a good friend at her side, some of that light will return."

"Then I shall be at the wedding, per your request."

Augatha raised her eyebrows. "Just like that?"

Fiora nodded, standing up. "It is simple. She is unhappy. You wish to see her smile. If it will bring it back, then I will take upon your offer. House Laurent would honored to give their blessings."

The older woman smiled. "Thank you, I knew you were a good woman at heart."


Nera came up to Fiora as she watched the carriage depart with the woman she conversed with not too long before. She noted the gilded enveloped tucked under her arm and placed her hand on the duelist's shoulder. "Washer for your thoughts, milady?"

"She is good," the duelist finally remarked, leaving the window once the carriage vanished from sight. "I was wise not to underestimate her."

The snowy-haired woman frowned and sat down in one of the chairs in the study. She wished they were back at the manor, but they had too much to finish and now with a wedding invitation they had no chances of going back now. It was hard to think here, with her magic dampened to the point of discomfort. "She is ambiguous. I sensed an earnest honesty from her, but there is a veil I cannot put my finger on."

"She is most certainly using me."

Something they agreed on and unsettled them both.

Fiora sighed. "Give me a moment, Nera."

Said woman simply observed her as she paced the room. They both had quite a bit to digest and take in, given the fact they narrowly dodged an arrow with Augatha's sudden visit and the underlying factors driving it.

The matron came to them with a seemingly harmless invite to the wedding, to which Fiora already knew one would come eventually – just not in the form of the bride's mother. She found no animosity towards her during their conversation, and at the surface it really appeared to be a mother wanting the best for her daughter.

Yet, the mention of her own failed marriage and implications of Nera's influence in her own behaviors spoke otherwise. Was this an attempt at proving the old traditions still reigned supreme? Was this a blow to her pride trying to rise in power of her own efforts? And did she know Nera still hung around? Was she looking to undermine their influence by targeting people within their own household?

"This is complicated."

Nera nodded. "Very."

They fell silent.

"When is the wedding?"

Fiora made no effort in preserving the envelope the invite sat in, ripping open one side to pull the card out. "In three days time."

Nera snorted uncharacteristically. "Then this is stupidly and absurdly fucking complicated."

They both knew it – their hands were tied up on the matter.

Fiora watched Nera rise from her seat, hands combing her hair. "I've been reading through the books as well. If only we had more time to figure out how to stop it all."

Fiora scoffed. "You'd have to throw a war at them to st-"

The duelist's eyes widened and she let the card drop on the table.

"Nera."

The snowy-haired woman stared at her, a bit startled by her sudden, hushed whisper. "Yes, milady?"

'I'll just have to see for myself how she's doing on her wedding day.'

"Sylas intends to attack Demacia on the day of the wedding." She slapped herself on the forehead so hard, even Nera was concerned she left a bruise. "Mon dieu, it all makes sense now."

"Why would he attack in broad daylight-"

"Because why not?!" Fiora practically ran over and grasped Nera's shirt, shaking her roughly. "Every. Single. Noble. House. Will be in attendance. What better way to overthrow the kingdom by having everyone responsible for the current system be gathered in one place?"

The distractions at their borders, the attack at High Silvermere, all of it to leave the Great City at its most vulnerable.

Fiora slowly let her hands drop, as the realization hit her harder than she expected. She collapsed in the chair when all of her energy vanished in an instant.

Nera, on the other hand, slowly turned towards the door and her confident strides grabbed the duelist's attention. "Where are you going?"

The servant turned to Fiora as if asked a stupid question. "What are you doing?"

Fiora made to reply, but didn't actually have a proper response.

"Don't you have a wedding to prepare for? Last I checked, your suit isn't fit for an attack during one either."

Are you...? Fiora stared at Nera until the pieces fell together and it clicked. "We should get ready then. Ready for a wedding-"

"-and a war."


A/T: I don't have much to say other than - we're in for some shit now, aren't we?

Until the next chapter - at this rate it might end up being the end of today or this weekend, who knows?