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Caitlyn Kiramman is thirteen years old and sitting across from her mother in her office, the large desk situated between them. The wall clock ticks, the only noise in the room. Cassandra sits back in her chair with her chin resting on her gloved fist, and Caitlyn leans forward with anticipation, watching for any predictable movements.

“I don’t know why it’s so important for you to go with a date,” Cassandra finally says. “When I was your age, I went to these events with friends. It creates an image when you go with a date. Gossip.”

“Mother,” Caitlyn whines, unable to help herself. “You and Father agreed that I could start dating at thirteen, and this girl is interested in me. We’re part of the same social group and have two classes together.”

“Do you even like her, or are you only motivated by the convenience of the match?”

“I do,” Caitlyn stresses. “We…have a lot in common.”

“And are you certain her feelings for you are genuine? She isn’t using you for her own benefit, is she? Because we raised you to be aware of these things.”

Caitlyn refrains from rolling her eyes. Attitude won’t get her anywhere with her mother. She’s learned that the hard way more than once by now. “The Farroworths are a well-respected family, and she’s been a good friend since the start of the year. She really wants to go together, Mother.” She doesn’t mention how they had been flirting for a few weeks now, or how Caitlyn had already been daydreaming about being girlfriends. That is another conversation, the second step in the process. Right now, she just had to convince her mother to agree to a harmless school dance date. 

“The Farroworths are not in the same circles as the Kirammans,” Cassandra remarks firmly, not in a judgmental way, but rather as a fact. Social politics are everything in Piltover. “Good family, but it would stir whispers. We also agreed that you would date individuals from logical families. If it was the Kingston girl, or even the Valisly heir, I would be more willing, but you know how I feel about these kinds of things. Friendship is not an issue. There’s nothing wrong with being amiable to all people, but courtship is different.” 

Caitlyn is quick to problem solve. “Then we go as friends. There’s no harm in that, is there? Everyone knows we’re already friends, so we can frame it like that. Friends go to dances together all the time. It’s not out of the ordinary.”

Her shoulders tense as she waits for her mother’s response. They have their disagreements, and they oppose each other more than they agree, especially now that Caitlyn is a teenager and feels adamant about voicing her own opinions, but she’s grateful for her upbringing as a councilor’s daughter. Cassandra’s job is all about negotiating and debating, and she raised Caitlyn to stand up for herself and be able to argue her way out of anything. 

Caitlyn wonders if her mother regrets raising her with those values now, because she refuses to back down until she gets what she wants.

She’s a teenager. She wants to feel like one for just one night.

“If I agree,” hesitation laces Cassandra’s tone, “it will be under our terms. I will want to arrange a lunch with the girl and her parents so our families can get acquainted. We will meet here before the dance for photos, and we will escort the two of you together. Your father has already planned to chaperone the dance, so he can keep an eye on you two.”

Caitlyn doesn’t care about the rules. They’re a reasonable compromise for what she’s asking. “So I can ask her?”

Cassandra purses her lips. “Outside of school hours. We will make it nice and respectable. Nothing ridiculous.”

A grin stretches across her face before her mother finishes, and Caitlyn launches herself out of her chair and around the desk, throwing her arms over her mother’s shoulders. Cassandra stiffens at the contact, and Caitlyn knows she would have pulled her back in a public setting, but here in the privacy of her office, she holds Caitlyn close and presses a brief kiss to the side of her head.

When they separate, Cassandra holds Caitlyn’s cheeks and brushes her thumb across one. “Remember to think with your head, dearest. Don’t let your heart make you lose sight of common sense, understand?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Mother.” Caitlyn can’t help herself from leaning into her touch. “Thank you so much.”

Cassandra tugs her close again, surprising Caitlyn this time. 

“You’re welcome.”

Two days after the dance, the first day back at school, Caitlyn walks through the halls and notices one too many eyes on her. Shifting her bag on her shoulder, she hurries to her friend group. Nalia Farroworth, noticeably, is absent. Her friends shush each other as she approaches, eyeing her like she put her uniform on backwards that morning.

“What?” she asks. It comes out harsher than she intends, but her anxiety has a tight grip around her throat.

“It’s Nalia,” one of them, Celeste, finally says, almost like they’re taking pity on her. “She’s…dating Annetta Lyon. She’s been flaunting it all morning.”

Caitlyn feels her heart dive into her stomach. “I’m sorry…what?”

“We asked her about you and the dance,” Bes joins in. “She said she knew she’d make her crush jealous if she saw you take her. Make it seem like she was someone important because a Kiramman took her.”

“She’s no longer in the group.” Poppy acts quickly and wraps her arm around Caitlyn’s before she can fall over. At least, she thinks she will. “Like hell we’d let someone like that take advantage of you and get away with it.”

“We’re so sorry, Cait,” the three of them say almost simultaneously. Caitlyn doesn’t know what to say, what to do. She thought…they had such a good time together at the dance. Nalia was glued to her side the whole evening and chattered away excitedly. Caitlyn woke up that morning with her mother’s blessing to ask her out on a true first date, having approved of the “trial run” that was the dance. 

Tears well in her eyes. She can’t help it. She hadn’t expected her first heartbreak to happen this soon. It tugs within her unpleasantly and leaves a sour taste in her trembling mouth. Her whole body tenses like it’s falling but it isn’t, yet the ground beneath her feet has never felt so unsturdy before. 

Her friends form a protective barrier around her and push her through the day, glaring at anyone who whispers as they pass. When Nalia approaches them first period, apology already spilling from her lips, they tell her off. In time, Caitlyn will come to thank them, but now, she can only focus on the hurt in her chest, weighing her down. 

She goes home after the longest school day ever and, with numb legs, disappears into her bedroom. Both her parents work and won’t be home until late, as most evenings go, so she changes into sleep clothes and hides under her bed covers. She has homework but can’t be bothered to do it, so she closes her eyes, curls up, and cries. 

Her mother finds her hours later, waking her for dinner.

“I’m not hungry, Mother,” she says weakly, not bothering to get out of bed to properly greet Cassandra.

The bedroom door closes, and heeled boots click on the marble floor. The bed dips beneath Cassandra’s weight, and Caitlyn feels her cool hand against her forehead. 

“What are you doing in bed, darling? Are you ill?”

There’s a tenderness to her voice that is almost foreign to Caitlyn’s ears.

Wordlessly, she shakes her head. 

“What is it, then?” She doesn’t respond. “Caitlyn.”

The rest is a blur in Caitlyn’s fuzzy head. She knows she breaks down crying, the sound shattering the quiet in the room. She knows her mother pulls her in tight, tighter than Caitlyn can ever remember her holding her. She knows she rocks her back and forth and presses multiple kisses against her forehead. She knows she doesn't criticize Caitlyn or even tell her, “I told you so,” just holds her and lets her cry.

Caitlyn can only fold herself into her mother. Cassandra isn’t a touchy mother, and never has been. She has always held her only daughter at a distance, rarely showing affection. Yet now, she forms a protective cocoon around Caitlyn as though it’s second nature for her.

She lets herself be vulnerable like this, even though she knows it won’t last long.

Caitlyn is sixteen years old and feels like she’s on trial, having to defend her choice of girlfriend to not only her parents but her older brother figure.

Her parents found out just that afternoon and couldn’t keep the former secret from Jayce when he joined them for dinner, as he did once a week.

It wasn’t that she had intended to keep the relationship a secret from anyone. She fully planned to have her girlfriend over and properly introduce her to her parents. But there was something exciting about no one knowing about them. Caitlyn didn’t have to worry about image or expectations or any ridiculous rules she had to go through in the past with others. Most people she dated never lasted past the second or third date. She learned quickly into her teenage years just how important the Kiramman name was, and as consequence, how difficult it made dating. 

She’s gone through some puberty, too, her face and body growing more into the Kiramman features, and it was a fact more than opinion that the Kirammans had a long history of good, strong genes. 

That means Caitlyn has her fair share of suitors, even as she focuses more and more on her studies and less on socializing the older she gets, finding comfort and familiarity in learning. Socializing is awkward and changes constantly, but the books don’t budge.

But her looks combined with her name made her an attractive option for her peers. The people she dated often let their true colors show. Some of them weren’t even shy in admitting they liked her because she’s a Kiramman and because she’s the sole heir, as though they expected her to not care or find it perfectly reasonable.

So it was nice not to tell anyone for a while. She could test out the waters between her and her girlfriend, figure out her intentions, before sharing it with the rest of Piltover. But Lee wasn’t as thrilled as she was about wanting to keep their relationship a secret. Still, she went along with it for the first month. 

Until she accidentally revealed it to one of their mutual friends, who then spread the gossip to the rest of the school. From there, it was hopelessly out of Caitlyn’s hands. Academy gossip is like the finest Noxian wine to the parents of Piltover—they can’t get enough of it.

Leaving Caitlyn in very, very hot water with her parents.

“We just don’t understand why you didn’t want to tell us, dear,” her father says before taking a bite of soup. “We aren’t upset.” He levels a firm stare at her mother, who sits rigid at the head of the table.

The look they exchange is heated, but silent.

“You will bring her over to meet us,” Cassandra essentially orders. Caitlyn catches the hurt in her gaze before it disappears. “Invite her and her parents to tea. I will arrange an apology gift for the gossip this is going to cause.”

“Cait’s young.” Jayce throws up a hand holding a bread roll and leans back in his chair. Despite his relentless teasing since the moment he walked in the door, Caitlyn relaxes a little. He always has her back, even if he’s an obnoxious asshole about it. “A little relationship like this shouldn’t stir up all of Piltover. Can you blame her for wanting to keep it from people if this is the reaction?”

“Caitlyn’s mistakes are none of your business, Jayce,” Cassandra responds as though he’s her son, which he almost is. “She represents this family. Her actions reflect on all of us. It doesn’t look good that she and this girl, who isn’t from a titled family, I might remind you, young lady,” her piercing gaze sends a chill down Caitlyn’s spine, “have been sneaking around for gods know how long, doing who knows what, unchaperoned. People are going to think she is a troublemaking scoundrel, not a respectable young woman who is a councilor’s daughter and the future of the Kiramman family.”

Her voice grows louder with each syllable, echoing in the dining room. Caitlyn sinks further and further into her chair, eyes hot with unshed tears. No one speaks when her mother finishes. No one eats either, despite the table overflowing with ornate dishes covered in food.

“Well, Caitlyn? Is there anything you would like to say?”

It’s too much. Before the first tear can fall, Caitlyn pushes her chair back with a loud shriek and hurries out of the room.

Jayce brings her untouched food up to her bedroom later, reheated, and hugs her goodbye.

“Don’t let it get to you, Sprout,” he says into her hair. “I think she’s just upset you didn’t tell her sooner. That’s how moms are. They like to be in-the-know about their kids’ lives.”

Caitlyn’s run out of tears and just lets out a shaky sigh. Her eyes are tired with strain and sting from rubbing them so much. “It doesn’t give her the right to remind me of my duty to this family. Believe me, I’m well aware.”

It comes out bitter, even though she doesn’t fully mean it. She does a little, because there are days when she’s sick of being a Kiramman, when she wants nothing more than to live free of expectations. She wants to be able to date someone and have them like her for her, not because of what she is. She wants to be able to date someone and not have it turn into a scandalous uproar.

“Don’t forget, you’re a misfit and always will be.” Jayce ruffles her hair. “It’s not a bad thing. The world simply isn’t ready for you, yet. Keep being yourself, and it’ll come around.”

Caitlyn manages a tiny smile, though she doesn’t feel it. “Thanks, Jayce.”

They hug again, and as Jayce walks down the hallway to the stairs, he throws over his shoulder in a sing-song voice, “Caitlyn’s got a girlfriend, Caitlyn’s got a girlfriend…”

His laughter as he dodges a pillow—quickly snagged from her window seat—brings a genuine smile to her lips, and she waits until he’s out of sight until she closes her bedroom door.

He comforts her six months later after she breaks up with her girlfriend, having gotten into a screaming match about Caitlyn apparently embarrassing her for the last time. Since she’s a Kiramman, her ex-girlfriend told her bitterly, her actions matter ten times more.

A misfit, indeed.

Caitlyn is twenty years old, and she’s grown used to the disappointed looks her mother gives her following the evenings she sneaks a girl into her room. They never talk about it, and her father certainly won’t mention it if Cassandra won’t, so it remains a tense secret the whole family knows. 

She’s only ever had two girlfriends in her life, and both relationships ended with it being Caitlyn’s fault in some way. Her Kiramman status, practically a mark of bad luck now, came up in both breakups. She wasn’t enough for either of them.  

So she stops caring. She stops trying to be enough for anyone. She lets the whispered rumors spread amongst the elite as she passes by them at social events—only ever present for her mother’s sake. Caitlyn hates social events.

That Kiramman girl is no good. 

She’ll ruin you like she’s ruined others.
She’ll take advantage of you because she expects special treatment.

She only cares about keeping her bed warm.

Play your cards right with the heir, and you can get in good with the Kirammans.

The truth is, Caitlyn rarely sneaks someone into her room. She has plenty of admirers, but she prefers to ignore them and focus on her job. Only when she’s faced with a particularly lonely night does she venture out to the bars and clubs in the lower areas of the city where people won’t immediately recognize her. She’ll dance with a pretty individual, flirt with them, then make out until the urge for something more becomes too great, and she ends it. She never brings them back to her house, despite the burn in her core.

In reality, she’s only snuck one person into her room, just on various occasions. She’s from one of Piltover’s wealthiest families, and Caitlyn despises her. Not because they were academic rivals in school, but because she enjoys her status and enjoys her wealth and power she has over others.

Yet, like Caitlyn, she hates the scandal that surrounds their dating lives. Well, for her, it’s more annoying and an inconvenience, and only when she decides it is. Caitlyn’s seen her bask in causing scandal purely for the attention. But apparently, seeing Caitlyn under the moonlight isn’t exciting enough for her. If anything, society would think them to be a suitable match because of their stations, and any scandal would immediately be forgotten.

It’s a transactional relationship between two lonely souls. Caitlyn can’t stand her, but not even a fool would deny her beauty, and there’s something about having sex with someone she doesn’t care about that pulls Caitlyn in. She can disconnect from reality for a short time, focus only on the physicality of the activity and ignore her mind which feels more like a cage in adulthood. It’s numbing, not alleviating, but Caitlyn doesn’t know how to get rid of the persistent tug within her, a thread unraveling bit by bit until there’s a giant gaping hole in the fabric. 

And, she has to admit, there’s something exciting about someone using her for her looks alone, not for her wealth or name. It may not be entirely satisfying, but it’s refreshing. It’s not like Caitlyn has experienced better.

That, too, ends as they all eventually do. This time, Caitlyn’s the one to end things. Not because she wants to, not because she’s met someone who finally cares about her for her, but because the woman she’s seeing tells her after they fuck that she’s engaged. She doesn’t want it to come between them because she doesn’t care about her spouse-to-be. Someone with money and good enough looks and reputation, she says with a wave of her hand. A loveless marriage, as so many are amongst Piltover’s elite. 

That doesn’t matter to Caitlyn. She refuses to be the other woman even in a hollow marriage. Knowing she was probably seeing Caitlyn while courting her betrothed already turns Caitlyn’s stomach, and when she slips out the window the next morning, Caitlyn tears the sheets off her bed and leaves them in a pile outside her door for their staff to collect and clean.

From now on, she throws herself into work and thinks of nothing else.

Caitlyn is twenty-three years old and standing in front of a jail cell. 

It’s cold this far down, and she feels it on the tip of her nose. Yet the look the inmate before her gives burrows beneath her skin and into her bones, and she fails to fight a blush.

Not from attraction—though her heart does betray her and skip when their eyes first meet—but because no one, especially a stranger, has ever looked at Caitlyn like they hope to inconvenience every waking moment of her life. Like the mere sight of Caitlyn in her pristine uniform makes the inmate want to throw up right on her shoes. Like the features in her face, in her walk, in her voice, don’t give away who she is. This far below the surface, Caitlyn’s surprised if anything from above even matters. 

“Who the hell are you?” the inmate asks, no, demands, and it sends a shiver down Caitlyn’s spine. 

She’s never been the impulsive type, but there’s something about this woman that makes her forge Jayce’s signature, something so familiar and easy to her after so many years of knowing each other, and free her.

She just hopes her gut isn’t wrong. 

Caitlyn is twenty-four years old and tired. Muscles she didn’t even know existed ache and tremble as she slowly makes her way down the hall. It’s late, that much she knows in her disoriented state, but she’s grown restless of her bed. The doctors said some movement a few times a day now is good for her, but they also said someone needs to assist her to make sure she doesn’t fall over. 

Except Vi was gone when she woke up, and she didn’t want to ring for a servant to help her. It’s already embarrassing enough that she’s not completely back on her feet yet a week after the battle; her staff doesn’t need to know how weak she really is.

Nausea hovers in Caitlyn’s stomach like boiling water threatening to spill over. Not quite committing to it, but still a wary presence. Her fingers cling as much as they can to the cool wallpaper, guiding her down the dark hallway. She flinches as she squints to see, accidentally disturbing the muscles around her left eye. Beneath so much gauze and under this much medication, the injury is almost numb. Almost. Caitlyn’s still trying to get used to relying on one eye.

She stubs her toe harshly on a side table that has been there since she was a child and bites her lip hard. Greater pains than this have been thrown at her, yet she nearly collapses to the ground.

Maybe it’s a sign to return to bed.

Releasing a trembling sigh, Caitlyn rights herself and wiggles the toe in her sock. It burns, but moves as it should.

Voices disturb her assessment, and she turns around fast enough to make the hallway spin and blur. With a curse, she grips the table that just offended her until the spinning subsides and she can see again.

They’re coming from downstairs, which Caitlyn has been absolutely forbidden from going down without heavy assistance, but she shuffles to them anyway and hovers over the side staircase railing. She can’t see anyone, but dim light from the great room spills out into the hall below.

“You should visit her in the morning. She’d appreciate seeing someone besides me, especially her dad.” 

It’s Vi.

“I don’t think she wants to see me,” her father replies, voice thin and aged ten years. “Just…keep me updated on her healing, please? And make sure she doesn’t disobey any of the doctor’s orders. She has a tendency to disregard rules.”

Vi chuckles. “I’ve noticed.”

Silence.

“I hope it’s not out of line for me to say this,” she continues after a few minutes, hesitant, “but she does want you to visit. I see the disappointment in her face every day when she watches the door and I’m the only person that comes in that’s not there to do their job. I…I lost my dad way too soon. I’d give anything to have him back, especially right now.” A shaky breath. “She needs her father, more than ever.”

It takes so long for her father to respond, Caitlyn considers going back to bed.

“How can I look at her…when I failed her in every possible way?” 

There’s a weight in the question that holds Caitlyn’s breath captive. Her knuckles turn white on the railing. 

“That’s not true–”

“It is.” The sharpness in his tone shocks Caitlyn. Her father had always been kind, gentle, funny yet quiet. A lot of that had changed after her mother passed, except for the quiet, which only grew.

“I put her mother’s death, the funeral, the Kiramman name, all of it on her. Meanwhile I couldn’t bear looking her in the eyes because she’s the spitting image of Cassandra. It was too much.”

“You were in mourning, Tobias.” Her father’s name on Vi’s tongue sounds strange, yet familiar, as though this isn’t the first time they had talked without Caitlyn present. 

“So was Caitlyn,” he stressed, and Caitlyn can hear the tears in his heavy voice. “She grieved alone while taking on responsibilities she wasn’t ready for yet. Responsibilities that should never have been hers. And that monster just…swooped in and stole her from me, and I let it happen. I abandoned my daughter, and now she can barely walk.”

“But she’s alive.” Vi pauses. “We can’t change the past, but we can work for a better future. Caitlyn’s made plenty of mistakes, but she’s not letting that stop her from trying to be better, do better. Hell, she’s already drafting plans for reform in both Piltover and Zaun from her bed.”

A choked laugh escapes Caitlyn’s lips in a rushed breath, and she realizes, bringing one hand to her face, that she’s crying. Of course Vi’s seen her notes, even though Caitlyn tried to be discreet about them, knowing Vi would chastise her for working instead of resting. Hiding them in the dresser drawer on Vi’s side of the bed really wasn’t her brightest idea, but she’s recovering from an eye injury, a stab wound, and a concussion, so her brain isn’t what it normally is right now.

“Caitlyn’s lost one parent already. Don’t let her lose another because you’re too afraid to face her.”

She’s heard enough, she decides, and turns to head back down the hallway. 

“You really care for her, don’t you?”

Her body goes rigid.

“More than either of us thought I would.”

“Thank you. For being there for her when no one else was.”

“She pushed me away once, but I’ve decided I’m not going anywhere from now on, no matter what happens.”

“You have a good heart, Vi. I’m sorry it took me this long to warm up to you.”

“It’s alright. Just…try to visit Cait. Talk to her. She wants that, trust me.”

Vi’s right. Despite her frustration and buried anger with her father, Caitlyn longs for one of his hugs and to hear his soothing voice. She remembers one time as a child when she was sick, something making its rounds at school, and her father took time off work to take care of her. She wishes to return to that time, being his favorite patient as she recovers and receiving extra special attention and candy pressed into her palm when her mother isn’t around.

She wants her father. She wants to be comforted and to be told everything will be okay, that she doesn’t have to worry about a thing.

It strikes a nerve deep within her that Vi knows her so well, even after spending months apart. Though she tries to banish the memory of the woman from her brain, Caitlyn realizes just how little Maddie tried to care for her. She only reached out when Cait was on the verge of spiraling, and she never put effort into getting to know Caitlyn. She posed herself as another one of Caitlyn's followers in a leadership position she never asked for, never wanted.

If it wasn't for her grief and anger, she would have seen right through the act. It wasn't the first time someone had used her for ulterior motives, and Caitlyn's smarter than that, or so she likes to think. She's become a stranger to herself ever since losing her mother, it's hard to tell what's real and what isn't anymore. Is she smart? Is she trying her best? Is she doing the right thing to make Piltover and Zaun better places?

Maybe she's just feeding herself more lies to ease the burns. 

Tears blurring her vision now, Caitlyn heads back to her bedroom as quickly and quietly as possible, before either of them notice she’s out of bed.

Caitlyn stares at herself in the mirror. Particularly, her eye, which has healed up nicely but leaves a jagged scar across the lid and partially beneath the outer corner. The lid sags over it, muscles severely damaged. Her iris and pupil are distorted from the cut, and not even stitches could make them new again. She also can’t see out of it still, besides some faint, blurry colors and light. To protect it, she wears the eyepatch all hours of the day, but she knows the truth deep down.

It’s hideous. She’s hideous. Her face is a field of scars now that will never go away, reminders of her failure. Caitlyn can’t stand to look at herself most days, sickened by the sight. She doesn’t want to be that way when there are far more important things to worry about—reparations, using the Kiramman name to show endless support for Sevika now that she’s on the Council, working with her and Ekko to make Zaun a better place—but she can’t help it.

“Cait? You coming to bed?”

Instinctively, she scrambles for the eyepatch she had taken off to shower and fits it back over her head.

The door opens, because she never leaves it locked anymore in case something happens and she needs Vi, and her partner meets her gaze in the mirror. 

“Yes, coming.” Caitlyn smiles and turns around. She’s in her robe, wet hair slicked back. “I just need to change and I’ll be ready.”

Vi blocks the door as she tries to squeeze past her. Her brows twist.

“Why are you still wearing that thing? The doctor said you can take it off when you’re not in direct sunlight.” She’s right, of course. The doctor cleared her the other day, yet Caitlyn’s hesitant to make any changes to her routine.

“I want to be careful,” she says, and it’s not a complete lie. “Now can you let me change, please? I’m beyond ready to spend some time with you after today.” That part is true. Her stress has been absurdly high all day, though it wasn’t all that different from every other day. 

She blames her period, which must be right around the corner and has always doubled her stress levels. It would also explain how touchy she’s been the past few days, longing for her partner even when they’re together. It’s not enough to be beside her—Caitlyn wants to burrow beneath her skin like a parasite and never leave. 

Her period also makes her think in very strange ways.

“Sure. After you take it off.” Vi leans on the doorframe and crosses her arms. Her biceps flex, and Caitlyn’s eye naturally shifts to them. Gods, she has no right being this alluring and annoying at the same time.

“I won’t,” she argues. “I like it.”

Vi rolls her eyes. “You complain about it all the time.”

Shit.

“Can we please go to bed, darling?” she tries again, because she doesn’t really have another argument. It’s late and she’s tired and her period is about to start and she’s not in the mood. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Vi studies her with a quirk to her lip, and Caitlyn’s jaw tenses. She can’t meet her eyes, knowing damn well that Vi can see right through her. 

“You don’t need the eyepatch, Cait,” she says quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with your eye.”

Caitlyn lets out a short laugh. “There’s a lot wrong with it, actually.”

“You know what I mean.”

She doesn’t answer and ignores the blush that creeps along the back of her neck. Vi pushes herself off the doorframe and steps into the bathroom. Her footfall is light, hesitant, but Caitlyn lets her get close enough for her hands to cup her face and raise it up, forcing eye contact.

“May I?” she asks, and Caitlyn can’t deny her.

She swallows and gives a single nod, but closes her eyes.

Vi lifts the eyepatch with a gentleness she seems to reserve only for Caitlyn. Her rough calluses brush Caitlyn’s damaged skin.

She lets out a small gasp as warm lips gingerly press to her brow bone and linger for a long second. Her fingers itch to reach out, so they do, and she holds onto Vi in the crooks of her bent arms. Vi continues her journey to the inner corner of her eye, lighter than a feather. She moves down and trails a path across her bottom lid, ending on her cheekbone.

Except she doesn’t stop there, and presses the final kiss to the center of Caitlyn’s top lid, right over the worst of the injury. It’s healed almost completely by now, but Vi’s touch is still a whisper.

“You’re beautiful, Cait,” she murmurs when she pulls back just far enough to press their foreheads together. 

“Vi—” 

But she doesn’t let the protest even leave Caitlyn’s mouth.

“No. You are.” Vi’s thumbs brush over her cheeks. “You don’t have to hide. Not from me.”

There’s an itch in the back of Caitlyn’s throat, and the pressure builds. She tries to swallow it down.

“It’s horrifying, Violet.” She drops her gaze to the ground. “I—I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I don’t know how you can.”

It goes much deeper than the scar, and Caitlyn has a feeling that Vi knows that.

“I can because you’re still you,” Vi counters. “You’re still the same Caitlyn you were before. Shit, Cait, I’m grateful to wake up everyday and see your scars. You know why?”

Caitlyn hums, unsure if she can respond without crying.

“Because it’s better than waking up without you.” Vi brings her forehead down to kiss it. “I see it, and I’m reminded that you survived, that you fought back and continue to fight. And that makes it the most beautiful part of you.” She brushes back wet hair that fell over Caitlyn’s face.

Caitlyn falls forward into her arms and buries her face in her neck, clinging to her back. 

After twenty-four years, Caitlyn is in love. She once thought such a thing was terrifying, but now, it makes her feel safe.

Her tears shift to giggles as Violet lifts her from beneath the knees and carries her to bed, sleep clothes entirely forgotten.

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” she repeats like a prayer as they make love, and Caitlyn decides she wants to believe it. Though it may take time to get used to it, she wants to see herself the way her love does. 

Caitlyn Kiramman is thirty years old and celebrating her birthday with her little family.

Her wife and her father are making cupcakes, as they do every year. It’s become a tradition since Vi joined their family, starting out as a joke because of Vi’s nickname for her, but now a special moment for all of them. Caitlyn watches them bake, practically two stooges the way they’ve become so close over the years, as she entertains the gurgling eighteen month old on the kitchen countertop.

After one too many incidents, Caitlyn’s been thoroughly banned from coming anywhere near the kitchen appliances, so she happily sits back on a stool as an observer.

Little Felicia Kiramman is more than a handful these days as it is, and someone needs to watch her. She started walking about a month ago, a bit of a late bloomer, but once she got the hang of it, she was fast. Caitlyn and Vi can hardly keep up with her on top of work. They’re lucky that Tobias decided to retire three years ago and is a more than willing babysitter. He practically rips their child from their arms before they can even ask if he could watch her, an eager grandfather.

“Lily, please,” she huffs and wrestles her necklace out of her child’s strong grasp, redirecting her to one of her many toys on the counter. Vi is responsible for most of them. Caitlyn may have grown up privileged, but Violet absolutely spoils their daughter. “Not mama’s necklace. That hurts, lovey.”

“Taste test.” Her wife appears at her side with a spatula covered in chocolate batter. A ridiculous pink apron with the phrase, “Kiss the chef,” across the chest covers her front. Unfortunately, Caitlyn secretly loves it. Lily’s eyes light up, either from seeing her Ma or from seeing the chocolate, and she leans against Caitlyn’s firm hold beneath her armpits. “Ah, ah, birthday girl first,” Violet says, but Caitlyn brings Lily closer to get the first bite. She grips the spatula, fingers splaying over Vi’s, and carefully wraps her spit-lined mouth around the edge. It’s the cutest thing Caitlyn’s ever seen.

Both parents wait for the reaction.

A toothy grin, followed by the sweetest, “Tank you,” that melts Caitlyn’s heart.

“Now your turn.” Vi holds the spatula in front of Caitlyn’s mouth. Feeling particularly cheeky, and knowing her father’s back is turned, working on the cream cheese frosting, she holds her wife’s eye contact as she takes a small bite. She doesn’t miss Vi’s pupils dilating and smirks around a mouthful of batter.

It’s her birthday, after all, and Caitlyn has plans for them later tonight.

The batter is amazing as it always is, full of chocolate sweetness. Vi is an exceptional cook and baker, having learned a handful of recipes as a teenager and learning more under Tobias’s wing. She hums in appreciation, closing her eyes to savor it. The eyepatch is upstairs in her nightstand drawer, where it stays unless she’s going to be in sunlight for a lengthy period of time. She only wears it if she has to these days.

“Perfect,” she says. “Might I express my appreciation for the baker?”

Tilting her head up expectantly, she smiles at Vi, who’s quick to lean down and give Caitlyn a deep kiss. She cups her cheek, and Caitlyn feels a wetness on her jaw.

“Violet,” she breathes, breaking away from the kiss and showing her wife where she left batter. “Really?”

“Oops, my bad,” Vi says in a way that tells Caitlyn she’s not sorry in the slightest. She nudges Caitlyn’s chin up with a clean finger and cleans up the chocolate with her mouth. Lily squeals and throws a hand over Vi’s nose, because how dare Caitlyn get more attention than she does.

“Is it your turn?” Vi ruffles her short purple hair before unleashing a slew of kisses all over her face. The room erupts into adorable baby giggles, making the three adults burst out laughing.

“I take it that we have Felicia’s seal of approval?” Tobias joins them at Caitlyn’s side, squeezing her shoulder.

Shifting their daughter in her arms to face her grandfather, Caitlyn grins at him. “I believe so.”

Without waiting for invitation, Tobias swoops the baby into his arms. “Well, then, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” To Vi, he says, “Frosting is done and chilling. You can put the cupcakes in the oven whenever.”

“Let me help pour,” Caitlyn insists now that she’s baby-free, standing from her stool. 

“It’s your birthday, babe, sit back down.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You never make it easy, do you?”

They’re standing side by side in front of the empty cupcake pans, prepped with white liners. Warmth floods Caitlyn’s belly as she nudges Vi’s shoulder.

“With you? Never.”

Later that night, after they’ve had all the sugar they can handle, after they’ve put a rebellious, sugar-crazed Felicia to bed, after their bedroom floor is covered in their clothes and they’re coated in many layers of sweat, Caitlyn cuddles close to her wife.

Vi nuzzles in between her bare breasts and traces her stretch marks from carrying Felicia. Hair a mess from Caitlyn’s doing, fresh love marks all over her skin, she’s never looked more handsome.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn murmurs into the quiet room. Lifting her head up, Vi rests her chin on her sternum, and Caitlyn pushes her hair back from her face. Her nails scratch lightly along her scalp and down the back of her neck, just how Vi likes it. Sure enough, Vi leans into her touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“What for?”

“For this. For the perfect birthday.”

“I don’t know about perfect,” Vi wonders with a smile in her voice. “Not sure if anything can beat your twenty-seventh. Remember how drunk Mel was?”

A giggle escapes her lips, and she shifts to sit up a little more. Vi readjusts to better lay between her legs, one bent upwards and the other outstretched. The green sheets tangle around them—it’ll probably take some time to unravel from them before they can go to sleep.

Of course she remembers that birthday. She had expressed to Vi months before that she longed to see Mel again, as the Noxus ruler was often too busy to visit Piltover, and their own responsibilities kept them from visiting Noxus. A birthday invite to her and a few others turned into a huge party at the Kiramman mansion, a hilarious accident that Vi hadn’t repeated since. It was fun, despite neither of them being big party-goers, and they had a few good memories to hang onto. 

“How can I forget? She threw herself at Sevika all night.”

Vi jokingly shivered. “I don’t want to know what those two got up to.”

“Definitely not a coincidence they started seeing each other afterwards,” Caitlyn contributes with a snort. “I’m not sure how they manage long distance in their situations.”

A warm hand trails up Caitlyn’s thigh and squeezes.

“I could never do it.” Vi leaves a hot, open-mouth kiss on her inner thigh.

Desire flickers back to life in her stomach, and she tilts her hips upward. “Me neither.”

The last thing she sees is Vi’s devilish smirk she adores before her core lights on fire and she closes her eyes from the blinding pleasure.

“I love you, Cait,” Vi mumbles into her hair much later, sleep tugging at both of them. “Happy Birthday.”

“I love you, too, Violet.” Caitlyn curls around her more, even though their limbs are already pressed tight. 

It took her a long time to find love, but it was worth the wait. She would experience a thousand broken hearts if it means Vi is there at the end to put her pieces back together. The one person in the world who loves her just because, who took her last name not as a status symbol but because she wanted to share it with Caitlyn and make Caitlyn proud of it again.

As Vi often likes to remind her, Caitlyn Kiramman is one lucky fucking bastard.