Juncture n. 1: joint, connection, 2: a point of time; especially: one made critical by a concurrence of circumstances
The League is poison, a pit where all Diana's darkest designs can sit and fester. They soak into her and help her forget all her nobler purposes. Nobler purposes are for naive little girls.
Leona cannot look at Diana without seeing a monster, which worries her because she also cannot see Diana without seeing herself.
Diana cannot see Leona without seeing a kneeler.
Fighting against her feel right. It feels that they have always done this, and will continue to, through cycles and lives and eternities.
Diana attacks and attacks and attacks. If she loses momentum she will have to think, so she seeks out her opposite at every opportunity, slashing and snarling and cursing.
"Do you enjoy it, hurting people like this?" Leona cradles Nami, who made the mistake of being too close during one of Diana's assaults. The broken look on Diana's face haunts her for days.
When does a person become a monster? And can a person come back?
"Return to your library, Diana," Leona's voice booms from above her as she lays splayed in the dirt. "You can do more good there than on the field."
It takes Diana a day to realize it is not meant as an insult. When she finally brings herself to go and sees the rows upon rows of books and smells the familiar scent of parchment and glue it feels like coming home.
At some point the summoners decide they are stronger together, reminding them again that though they are Chosen, they are pawns in more ways than one.
At what point they begin to believe it themselves, neither could say.
"Why haven't you killed me?"
Diana needs to know. She doesn't know why it's so important, but she can't stand next to her anymore if she doesn't understand.
"There were several times you could have, but you didn't. I'm sure the Solari wanted you to."
"Murder does not redeem murder." Leona's face twists to something unreadable. "There is more than one way to pay for your crimes."
Diana isn't sure what to make of that, but when she looks at Leona her opposite is smiling.
She is radiant. "You still have a chance to make something great. Don't let it pass you by."
Matches come and go, each just like the other. After so long fighting alone, it is both comforting and disconcerting to have a steady shield by her side.
"You sell yourself short." Diana stands waiting for her when she returns from her audience with the Solari. "Do not compromise yourself for them."
Leona stares after her long after she walks off.
The sun did not speak to her, has not interacted with her in any way past its continued patronage.
But she feels less and less in need of guidance.
Diana presents her findings on the Lunari to the League. Despite her damning conclusions, the Solari stay silent, except their champion who applauds louder than anyone else.
The Solari lay out their ultimatum. After years of asking and berating and everything in between, finally they simply ask her to choose.
"The sun chose me because I would not kill for the Rakkor. Why would you think I would kill for you?"
And she leaves.
The grand experiment is failing. The cracks grow more noticeable with each passing year, a key champion withdrawing, a minor argument being settled on the field and off the Rift.
A third of the Solari choose their champion rather than their security. Diana barely sees her for a month as she flitted around Runeterra to find a place for her people.
She is worried, Diana can see it, when Leona finally returns. She doesn't know when she gained that skill. Or how she knows it will help to finally close the distance between them.
Coming together feels right too.
Diana finds followers and drives them off, as surely as the moon's cycle. Leona gains them and loses control.
Eventually they find this is something else they are better at together.
Border skirmishes grow bolder by the day. A match is planned, and those in the Institute speak in corners in hushed tones.
"It's going to get bad," Diana whispers against her neck. She has gained a sense for these things, too.
"We do the same as always." Leona kisses her cheek, her nose, her lips. "We fight."
Like it is just that simple.