Even in the darkest halls and alleys of the fallen empire known as Noxus, there were some that would not move on or ever admit defeat. Beneath the barren hallways of the former palace that belonged to Swain, a lone warrior remained at the lowest floor. Even though months had passed since the death of the former grand general, this particular general would find it in him to always visit the dark abyss that harbored the burial ground of Swain's remains (which in truth amounted to simply his robe considering his entire body had been incinerated and ultimately reduced to nothing).

Despite the brief peace that the male had while eyeing the tomb, it wouldn't be enough considering it always seemed to be cut short. Though unlike usual, his squire wouldn't be the one to come down and tell him any news-this time the footsteps that neared him from behind felt less urgent and casual in a sense. "Its been months since the old man passed-why bother coming to a dark depressing place like this brother? What good will it come to even sulk over a dead man? Forget about him and watch what I can do instead...just you wait, the League of Draven will soon-" the voice from behind had begun to boast before being cut short as the general spoke in a bitter and gruff tone that signaled just how little time for banter he had. "If you haven't come to tell me anything of importance I suggest you leave now, Draven. Fulfill your duties as the executioner of Noxus or don't bother me at all."

As the genera's brother came into view, his light wear of armor followed by his large and oddly shaped blades stood out the most. Spinning the blades causally, Draven gazes down at them as he fiddled with his fu manchu mustache. "Come on, spare me the lesson in responsibility. We've all been falling apart ever since the old crow took his long deserved nap-everything is a mess! What good will it do to even return to my post? There's nobody around to give me attention since the subjects are all freaking out! They're behaving like wild rodents, I tell ya!"

For a long moment the general didn't speak, his eyes fixed to the tomb before he turned his head ever so slightly towards his loud-mouthed brother. "Which is why now more than ever we must give them the iron fist and remind them who's in charge. I am the Hand. The Hand of Noxus and if they will not listen, I'll spill blood until they do. This war is not over-far from it."

"How scary~ the big bad general Darius is gonna go out in the front lines and swing that rusty ax around? Don't you think you're too old for that kinda stuff brother? Leave it all to me, you can just sit yourself down on that throne and watch me in all my glory" Draven boasts smugly with a wicked grin crossing his face. The general who claimed to be the Hand of Noxus gave a rather deadpan stare to his brother, his eyes cold and unwavering. "What good will it do to have you go out and nag the enemy to death? You'd sooner make their ears bleed than do any actual damage, Draven."

The executioner scowls and would clench his fists, stepping towards his brother boldly. "Hey now, what was that? Sounds to me like you're letting that power get to your thick skull brother...if it weren't for that tin can, Swain wouldn't be dead and he'd still be the one pulling the strings. You got lucky-face it, brother."

As true as those words may have been, Darius didn't take too kindly to those words and with one stare Draven knew he had overstepped his boundaries and takes a step back. "Whoa whoa, what's with the stare! Luck or not, you're the strongest by default now!"

"That may be so, but I hadn't intended to inherit control of the entire Noxian army through these means. Whatever is left of the army that is-" the heavily armored male would state flatly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his head, clearly frustrated that his rivalry with Swain had come to a halt. "So is it true that the machine herald also perished during the battle with Swain? He is no more?"

Draven nods his head, not bothering with his usual banter since he figured Darius wouldn't appreciate any further comments. Though the silence seemed to bother the executioner as he noted a look of deep thought on Darius's face. "What is it, brother? Something bothering ya?"

"I heard rumors that the machine herald wasn't alone...the traitor was there with him, wasn't she?" the general would demand to which Draven raises a brow-caught off guard by the suddenness of the question before he'd nod. "She was, but who cares about the bitch? She's no good to us now."

"She not only left our army to have a pitiful romance with a machine, but she's part of the reason why our grand general is dead and our people are in dismay. Leblanc is to blame for our current state-its bad enough that she deserted us but worse so that our troops idiotically let her go free at the battlefield" Darius would snap in frustration as he narrows his eyes and his hands balled up into tight fists. After a brief pause, the executioner sighs heavily and twirls one of his blades within his grasp, "Let me guess...you want me to find the treacherous bitch and bring her head to ya?"

Darius was silent for a moment before he turns his head to look at Draven and would curtly reply, "Can you do it?"

The general's brother would flash a grin, letting out a long confident whistle. "You know I can, brother. The League of Draven is officially under way~"

Though the damage to Ionia had been great during the long and hard fought battle that ended the reign of Swain, there was much progress made as buildings were nearly finished and citizens wandered around the streets chatting away without an ounce of worry. They were all completely unaware that there were a select few of Noxus that hadn't given up but a majority of the rift had long assumed that Ionia and the surrounding empires had succeeded in winning the near endless war.

One of the few buildings that hadn't been damaged during the war, however, was none other than the prison which had originally held Viktor and Leblanc. Within the walls of the prison, the interior seemed more like a comfortable living space than anything else.

There was a largely rounded mattress that not only looked but was indeed soft to the touch. The walls were painted a vibrant purple and the floors a dark hue of marble as several dimly lit candles surrounded the "cell". To top it all off there was a small tidy table, completely made of wood and shaven to the point that the surface was perfectly smooth.

Sitting up on the mattress, a woman would stretch as she let out a heavy yawn, slowly rubbing her eyes afterward as she squints from the glaring sun that would enter from the window sill (it just so happened that this particular room was one of the select few in the prison that even had the luxury of a window). The woman's hair had been tied up in a bun as she slept but now that she was awake she would fix her style so that the hair slid back down beneath her shoulders in its usual long form. For a moment there was a brief pause as the long-haired female gently ran her hand across her stomach and felt the small bump that belonged to her three and a half-month-old baby. A faint smile graces the features of the woman as she proceeded to lay on her back and caress her stomach while her eyes surveyed the dark ceiling that happened to be the one spot that still made this place feel like a prison despite the welcoming appearance her cell gave off.

An abrupt knock on the door would force the female to sit upright out of instinct, her gaze fixed on the knob that shook slightly before it turned and the door would open inwards.

"Good morning~ Did you sleep well Leblanc?" a cheery voice called out belonging to a rather energetic Vastayan female known as Ahri. In her hands appeared to be a metal tray covered with a circular top.

Rolling her eyes, the female mage would cross her legs as she leans back against the mattress and watches while Ahri enters the cage and sets the tray down across the empty table. "I was sleeping fine until you decided to burst into my lonely little cell."

Ahri felt her ears twitch and flatten a bit, her eyes squinting as she appeared to pout. "Oh don't be like that! It's your room, not a cell! You're the only one with special treatment and meals!" the Vastayan would call out joyfully trying to cheer up the cold distant mage. Yet despite the words that Ahri insisted upon, Leblanc didn't seem to agree as her eyes remained as bland as ever. "This is a cell. Inside of a prison. I'm a prisoner. No matter how you claim to treat me or how special my treatment...the fact remains that I can't get out of this place."

The cheerful female felt her tails stop swaying as she offers a hesitant smile. "A-Ah well...That's something you'd have to discuss with Leona...she's the one in charge of what happens around this place and-"

"Enough excuses, just tell your little red-headed friend that I'm sick of this place. You expect me to give birth in a place like this?" the female deceiver spoke flatly to which Ahri would quickly shake her head and raise her hands in defense. "Hey now, no one's saying you're going to stay in here that long!"

Again, Leblanc would challenge the female with a cold stare that only seemed to show how little patience she had for the prison. "Bring me all the fancy meals you like and make this cell as cozy as you please, it won't change the fact that I can't leave at my own will."

There would be a rather long pause after Leblanc had made it clear she despised being kept against her will. Ahri almost made no effort to say anything else as her mouth opened and closed since she was already on the verge of irritating the deceiver further. As an entire minute of quiet approached, the nine-tailed fox would nervously laugh and take a step back. "I'm just gonna-grab Leona and be right back, okay? Okay!" She'd say before turning away to walk out quickly, shutting the door behind her.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Leblanc eyes the metal tray that still hid the food underneath. "She forgot to tell me today's menu. Didn't even take off the cover...honestly, must I do everything myself?" the woman shakes her head and would lift the metal cover to be greeted by a steaming plate of ribeye steak drizzled in a rich wine sauce and a side of vegetables. For once, Leblanc actually seemed to be satisfied, her nostrils slowly closing as she sniffed the steam rising out of the tray to be engulfed by the rich scent of the steak. It wasn't until she went for the utensils that she realized there hadn't been any left behind for her.

Running a hand along her forehead, Leblanc clicks her tongue. "That fool forgot the knife and fork. You're joking. Honestly, my patience has run out and I can't even vent to you Viktor-" she'd say aloud before falling silent. Her eyes lowered to her lap as her hands balled into fists. Despite the months that had passed since that day, she could never forget the moment her lover had disappeared forever (or so she thought, unaware of his recent revival). "I miss that stubborn idiotic man. How foolish of me...Here I was thinking I had gotten past that" the female mage whispers softly, placing a hand across her stomach as she drew a breath. "Perhaps if the little one turns out to be a boy, I'll name him after you, Viktor."

With that thought in mind, Leblanc sighs and lays back down on her bed turning away from the food and curling up into fetal position with the sheets shifting underneath her as the sun drew further into the sky to signal noon-though to the mage, the day was already over and she simply wished to sleep away the painful memories.