Chapter Text
Piltover, a kingdom sharing a border with Zaun, shimmered under the sun like a mosaic of opulence and misery. Its towers of white marble and crystal reflected light in blinding flashes, but in their shadows, inequality tore at the city’s heart. The rich amassed unimaginable wealth, while the poor barely survived on scraps. Caitlyn Kiramman, the crown princess, only 22 years old, gazed from her window at this fractured reality. Her dark blue hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her sapphire eyes gleamed with a mix of determination and frustration. She wanted to change the fate of Piltover’s downtrodden, but she didn’t know how. Her delicate yet resolute face tightened whenever she thought of the pristine streets that hid so much hunger.
A bold idea crossed her mind. She decided to travel to Zaun, the prosperous kingdom everyone spoke of, to see with her own eyes if poverty truly didn’t exist there. Without revealing her plan to anyone except her cousin Mel Medarda, princess of Noxus, Caitlyn disguised herself as a commoner. She traded her silk gowns for a tattered brown cloak and a simple linen dress, hiding her face under a hood. Mel, with her golden skin and cunning eyes, looked at her with a raised eyebrow but didn’t try to stop her.
“Be careful, Cait,” she murmured, her voice soft but laced with warning.
Caitlyn nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear.
The journey to Zaun was short but exhausting. The warm, humid summer air enveloped the roads, and dust clung to the soles of her worn boots. Upon arriving, Caitlyn was struck with awe. Zaun’s streets were vibrant, teeming with life. Market stalls overflowed with juicy fruits, freshly baked bread, and glistening fish brought from nearby rivers. The inhabitants, dressed in simple but well-kept fabrics, smiled as they chatted. There were no beggars, no barefoot children, no looks of despair. The sun shone on polished stone rooftops, and a cool breeze carried the scent of wildflowers growing in communal gardens.
Caitlyn walked slowly, her mind reeling. How have they done it? she thought, mentally comparing Piltover’s clean avenues, where wealth was a facade hiding the misery of many. In Zaun, the abundance seemed genuine, but something in her chest told her not everything was as perfect as it appeared.
Her thoughts were interrupted when, venturing into a lit alley, she sensed a presence behind her. The air was still, and the sound of her own footsteps echoed against the stone walls. Before she could turn, a rough cloth covered her face, and a chemical smell clouded her senses. Everything faded to darkness.
When Caitlyn awoke, her head throbbed. She was lying on a wide bed, with silk sheets cool against her skin. The room was elegant, lit by bronze chandeliers casting dancing shadows on velvet-blue walls. Heavy curtains blocked any outside light, and the air smelled of burnt wax and something else—a sweet, almost hypnotic perfume. Her wrists and ankles were bound with firm but not cruel ropes, and her heart raced as she struggled. With trembling fingers, she began to loosen the ties on her hands, her breathing ragged. I won’t die here, she vowed, though fear gripped her chest.
The door creaked open, and Caitlyn froze. A figure entered, and the world seemed to stop. It was a woman, tall and commanding, dressed in a long dark gray linen robe with golden embroidery that gleamed in the candlelight. Loose charcoal pants hugged her muscular legs, and her leather boots softly crunched against the floor. Her bright red hair, long and straight, fell like a curtain of fire over her shoulders, framing gray eyes that seemed charged with a storm. Her skin was smooth, unmarred, and her face, with strong yet feminine features, was etched with anguish.
It was Violet, the crown princess of Zaun. Caitlyn recognized her instantly, and her blood ran cold. Rumors of the “predatory killer” echoed in her mind: a savage Alpha who murdered Omegas who entered her bed.
Violet’s pale, beautiful face contorted in a grimace of terror. I’m her next victim, Caitlyn thought, as her now-freed fingers curled into a fist, ready to strike.
But something about Violet didn’t match the stories. Her shoulders were slumped, and her eyes shimmered with a deep sadness, as if she were on the verge of tears. There was no cruelty in her face, only a resignation that seemed to consume her. Caitlyn stayed still, watching her.
Violet took a step toward the bed, and the air filled with an intoxicating scent, a perfume that violently awakened Caitlyn’s Omega instincts. It was the smell of an Alpha in rut, sweet and overwhelming, making her mouth water and igniting a treacherous heat in her belly. Her body betrayed her mind, begging to draw closer, to surrender to this woman whose beauty was almost painful.
Violet began to undress, letting the robe fall to the floor. Her torso, sculpted by years of training, revealed defined muscles under flawless skin, unscarred. Her firm, perfectly proportioned breasts rose with each breath. Then the pants, exposing strong legs and, between them, her erection—a stark reminder of her Alpha nature. Caitlyn couldn’t look away, caught between the desire roaring within her and the survival instinct screaming at her to flee. Her heart pounded wildly, and her skin burned under the weight of that scent enveloping her like a caress.
Violet picked up a knife from a nearby table and approached the bed. Caitlyn, with her hands free but still pretending to be bound, prepared to strike. Her body trembled, torn between the submission her Omega craved and the need to defend herself. As Violet leaned over her, their faces inches apart, the Alpha’s eyes were wet, and her voice, a broken whisper, cut through the silence.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, but I have to pretend I am. It’s the only way I can save you, understand?”
Caitlyn frowned, confused. Her mind struggled to process the words as her body continued reacting to Violet’s scent. The Alpha continued, her voice low and urgent.
“Listen carefully. I have to pretend to… brutally harm you and then strangle you to death. To do that, I must… leave my mark on you, understand?” Stunned, Caitlyn could only nod, her eyes fixed on the anguished face of the princess.
With trembling fingers, Violet untied the ropes from Caitlyn’s legs and wrists, freeing her completely.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “Don’t worry, I have someone who will say you’re dead and get you out of the castle. They’ll give you enough gold to start a new life far from Zaun. If they see you here, they’ll know I didn’t kill you, and then my life and my sister’s will be in danger, understand?”
Caitlyn, with her heart in her throat, nodded again. Her mind was a whirlwind, but there was no deceit in Violet’s eyes—only pain, fear, and a desperate spark of hope.
The room, bathed in the dim glow of the chandeliers, seemed to hold its breath. Shadows danced alarms on the velvet-blue walls, and the air, heavy with burnt wax and Violet’s intoxicating scent, weighed on Caitlyn like an invisible caress. Her hands and feet, now free thanks to Violet’s trembling fingers, rested on the silk sheets, but her heart still pounded fiercely. The Alpha, naked and vulnerable, leaned closer, her bright red hair falling like a veil of fire over her shoulders. Her gray eyes, clouded with seemingly endless pain, avoided Caitlyn’s.
“I have no choice,” Violet whispered, her voice barely a thread breaking in the silence. “I have to remove your underwear, understand?”
Caitlyn, caught between fear and an undeniable current of desire, nodded silently. Her face, pale under the flickering light, reflected a storm of confusion. Violet, with her eyes closed as if shielding herself from what she was doing, slid her hands under Caitlyn’s dress. Her fingers, warm and careful despite the situation, brushed the skin of her thighs, gently seeking the fabric of her underwear. Each touch sent waves of heat through Caitlyn’s body, a shiver that betrayed her composure. She tried to suppress it, pressing her lips together, but the scent of her own arousal rose in the air, sweet and unmistakable, impossible to hide.
Violet trembled as she sensed it. A shudder ran down her spine, and her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t stop. With a movement that feigned roughness, she pulled Caitlyn’s underwear aside, carefully parting her legs and positioning herself between them. She opened her eyes for a moment, meeting Caitlyn’s, and her face twisted in a grimace of apology.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice heavy with regret.
Caitlyn, with her breath caught in her throat, watched Violet. The Alpha, kneeling on the bed, began moving her right hand over her member, a rhythmic and restrained motion. Her penis, pink and long, glistened in the soft light, thick and erect, a sight that quickened Caitlyn’s pulse. With her left hand, Violet held both of Caitlyn’s wrists against the pillow, keeping them raised as if restraining her, though her grip was more a plea than a threat. It was an act, a facade for anyone who might be watching from the shadows.
Violet thrust her hips rhythmically, simulating a penetration that never happened. Her eyes were closed again, her lashes trembling as she avoided looking at Caitlyn. Sweat beaded on her forehead, sliding down her flawless skin, and her firm, rounded breasts moved with each feigned thrust. Her body, powerful and beautiful, seemed sculpted for strength but also for grace, and Caitlyn couldn’t look away. Her Omega roared within her, a desperate yearning begging her to guide Violet inside, to merge with this Alpha whose presence consumed her. But her mind, still alert, fought to maintain control.
Then, a drop fell on Caitlyn’s face. At first, she thought it was sweat, but as she looked up at Violet, her heart lurched. It wasn’t sweat. It was tears. Violet’s closed eyes couldn’t hold back the pain spilling silently, tracing wet trails down her cheeks. The sight hit Caitlyn like a flood. Empathy, surprise, and a sudden certainty mingled in her chest.
She’s not a killer, she thought. The rumors, the tales of the “Zaun predator,” crumbled before the truth she saw in Violet’s face. This woman, trapped in a cruel game, hated every second of what she was doing.
Violet’s breathing quickened, ragged, as her right hand moved faster over her member. Her hips thrust with greater urgency, maintaining the illusion of a violent act, but never crossing the line. Caitlyn, mesmerized, watched Violet’s body tense, the muscles of her arms and abdomen contracting under sweat-glistened skin.
A low moan, almost a sob, escaped Violet’s lips, and in that moment, her body shuddered. A stream of warm, thick liquid spilled onto Caitlyn’s dress, marking her with the Alpha’s essence, an intense scent that saturated the air and enveloped Caitlyn’s senses.
Violet opened her eyes, and the tears she had held back fell freely, glinting like pearls in the candlelight. Her face, vulnerable and broken, was a map of suffering. She leaned toward Caitlyn, her lips close to her ear.
“Now I’m going to pretend to strangle you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You have to pretend to fight me. When I kiss your forehead, stop moving and pretend you’re dead, understand?”
Caitlyn, her eyes wide, nodded. Her mind spun, but the sincerity in Violet’s voice was undeniable. The Alpha placed her hands around Caitlyn’s neck, with such light pressure it barely touched her skin.
Caitlyn played along, writhing gently, raising her arms as if trying to break free, while her eyes remained fixed on Violet’s. The room was silent except for the rustle of the sheets and the deafening thud of their hearts.
Then, Violet leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on Caitlyn’s forehead, a signal so delicate it contrasted with the charade they were performing. Caitlyn stopped moving instantly, relaxing every muscle, her body still on the bed. She breathed with almost imperceptible slowness, her abdomen unmoving, as if life had left her.
Violet stood, her tall, exhausted figure silhouetted against the chandelier light. Without looking back, she left the room, closing the door with a soft click.
Caitlyn remained still, following Violet’s instructions. The Alpha’s scent still clung to her dress, her skin, the very air. As she lay there, feigning death, a thought crystallized in her mind: there was far more to the supposed predator of Zaun than rumors could ever capture. Beneath the mask of infamy was a woman trapped, fighting to protect others, even at the cost of herself.
***
Vi closed the bedroom door with a soft click, leaving behind the sapphire-eyed young woman lying motionless on the bed, feigning death. The hallway, lit by torches crackling on the stone walls, smelled of smoke and polished metal. Her face, still damp from the tears she had shed in the room, was now dry. With a quick motion, she wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, ensuring no trace of vulnerability remained. In front of the guards waiting a few steps away, Vi adopted a mask of arrogance. Her jaw tightened, and a crooked smile, laced with false bravado, curved her lips.
“Another one who couldn’t handle me,” she said, her deep voice echoing with a mocking tone. “Too fragile for an Alpha like me. Call someone to deal with the body.”
The guards, their armor glinting under the flickering light, exchanged a quick glance before nodding. Their faces, hardened by years of service, showed no surprise. It was a familiar routine.
“Yes, Your Highness,” one of them replied, turning to carry out the order. Vi watched them walk away, their footsteps echoing in the corridor, and only when their figures disappeared around a corner did she let her shoulders slump. The facade crumbled, and a knot of nausea clawed at her throat.
With hurried steps, Vi headed to a nearby bathroom, a small chamber of gray stone with a marble sink and a toilet carved from dark wood. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she fell to her knees in front of the toilet. Violent retching shook her, each heave a blow reverberating in her abdomen. She vomited, the bitter taste burning her throat, until nothing remained but the emptiness in her stomach. Gasping, she flushed, the water gurgling as it carried away the evidence of her torment. She rose on trembling legs and approached the sink. Cold water splashed her face as she rinsed her mouth, spitting forcefully to rid herself of the aftertaste. Then, she plunged her hands under the stream and washed her face, the icy liquid a stark contrast to her still-burning skin.
Lifting her gaze, she met her reflection in the polished bronze mirror. Her bright red hair, long and straight, fell messily over her shoulders, and her gray eyes, dulled by exhaustion, stared back with a contempt that tightened her chest. I hate you, she thought, addressing herself. She hated her powerlessness, her inability to stop the nightmare that repeated twice a month, like a macabre clock, since she was 16. For over five years, she had been a puppet in the hands of her uncle Silco, trapped in a game that was destroying her piece by piece.
Vi had always known Silco’s intentions. She had sensed them from the start, when her uncle, a sterile Beta like all of his kind, began looking at her with a mix of obsession and envy. As the first dominant Alpha in the Rongar family in over 800 years, her birth had been a glorious event, celebrated with feasts and proclamations throughout Zaun. But for Silco, it was a reminder of what he could never be. His sterility, his inability to sire heirs, consumed him, and Vi was the means to fulfill his ambitions.
He wanted her to procreate, to fill the kingdom with Rongar heirs—preferably dominant Alphas or Omegas—only to dispose of her afterward and rule as an eternal regent, using her children as tools to perpetuate his power. Vi knew that the moment any Omega she mated with gave birth to an Alpha with Rongar blood, Silco would kill her without hesitation, repeating the same cruel cycle with her offspring.
A memory struck her, so vivid it stole her breath. It was a winter night five years ago, when Vi was 16 and her first rut had left her vulnerable. Silco had taken her to a secluded room in the castle, his eyes gleaming with a feverish intensity. Before her, two young Omegas, bound and terrified, trembled on the floor.
“If they don’t serve you, they don’t serve the kingdom,” Silco had said, his voice cold as ice. Before Vi could react, his guards executed them, one after the other, their screams echoing in Vi’s ears as their lifeless bodies fell. Silco had approached her, his gaunt face lit by a cruel smile. “This will happen to any who fail their purpose. It’s up to you, Vi.” Then, the bodies were thrown into an abyss outside Zaun, a place where no one would find them. Vi had stood frozen, the trauma searing into her soul like a wound that would never heal.
That day, Vi swore she would allow no more deaths. Over time, she devised a plan to save the Omegas Silco sent to her room. She gained the loyalty of Mikel, the castle physician, and Maya, Carla, and Marina, the nurses, paying them generous sums of gold to follow her instructions. She also recruited Donovan, the man tasked with disposing of the bodies.
Each time a young woman was brought to her chambers, Vi pretended to assault her and mark her with her scent, simulating that the Omega, too weak, had died in the act. Then, she boasted to the guards, claiming the girl hadn’t been enough for her. Mikel and the nurses confirmed the “death,” and Donovan, instead of throwing the body into the abyss, gave the young woman a bag of gold and helped her escape far from Zaun, where Silco would never find her. For years, Vi had perfected this charade, saving dozens of women at the cost of her own reputation. Rumors in Zaun painted her as an insatiable killer, but Vi ignored them. Her conscience was clear, though her heart was shattered.
Shaken by these memories, Vi left the bathroom, the cold hallway air hitting her still-naked skin. She headed toward the terrace overlooking the castle’s inner courtyard. The night was clear, the full moon hanging in the sky like a watchful eye. The fresh air smelled of damp earth and night-blooming flowers, a relief after the confinement of the room. Vi rested her hands on the stone railing, her fingers gripping it tightly as she gazed at the silver orb. Her mind, however, was on the young woman she had just left behind.
That girl was different. Beautiful, with a delicate face and blue eyes that seemed to pierce the soul. Her scent, sweet and intoxicating, had been nearly impossible to resist. Even now, the memory of that fragrance sent a shiver through her body. Vi lowered her gaze and noticed, with a frustrated sigh, that her erection persisted, a painful reminder of her still-active rut. The heat was tolerable for now, but she knew it would soon become unbearable. In secret, she planned to use a suppressant, a forbidden substance Silco would never approve of, but which Vi had acquired covertly to keep her instincts in check.
As a demisexual, Vi knew she could never touch a woman without being in love. The frenzy of her rut might cloud her mind, but her heart had always been stronger. She had never felt desire for the Omegas Silco sent; their scents always repelled her, a visceral rejection that protected her from falling into her uncle’s trap. But with that blue-eyed young woman, something had been different. Her beauty, her fragrance, had tempted her in a way that unnerved her. Still, Vi would never have touched her. Forcing her would have been a betrayal of everything she was.
A deeper pain pierced her as she thought of Powder, her little sister, kidnapped by Silco since Vi’s first rut. If their parents, Felicia and Connor, hadn’t died under mysterious circumstances when Vi was seven, none of this would be happening. Powder would be by her side, laughing, free. Instead, Silco held her as a hostage, a constant reminder of what Vi would lose if she disobeyed. Every charade, every lie, was for her, to protect her, even at the cost of Vi’s own soul.
Vi raised her gaze to the moon, her face hardened with determination. She would keep going, keep saving those young women, keep resisting. But deep down, a spark of longing flared as she recalled the blue-eyed stranger. Whoever she was, she had awakened something in Vi, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to explore.
A distant noise snapped her out of her thoughts. The echo of footsteps and muffled voices carried from the courtyard below. Vi leaned over, squinting. Under the torchlight, she saw Donovan, the man in charge of the bodies, pushing a covered stretcher. Mikel, the physician, walked beside him, with Maya and Carla close behind. Vi’s heart skipped a beat. The blue-eyed young woman was being moved, just as planned. Donovan would take her far away, give her gold, and she would start a new life outside Zaun. But this time, the certainty of having saved her didn’t ease the knot in Vi’s chest. There was something about that girl, something that made her different, and Vi feared her memory would haunt her for a long time.
She stepped back from the railing, her expression grim. The pain of her persistent erection was starting to intensify. She knew she would soon have to use a suppressant, hiding it from Silco’s watchful eyes. If her uncle discovered she was sabotaging her own body, the consequences would be devastating. But there was no other choice. She couldn’t risk losing control, not when every Omega brought to her room was a victim of Silco’s schemes.
Vi returned to her chambers, a spacious room with stone walls adorned with embroidered tapestries. The bed, still unmade from the staged encounter, seemed to mock her. She sank into a chair by the window, her body exhausted but her mind unable to rest. The image of the unknown young woman kept dancing in her head, and with it, a dangerous thought: What if I see her again? She shook her head, suppressing the idea. She couldn’t afford to dream. Her life was a prison, and each passing day brought her closer to the moment Silco would decide she was no longer useful.
In the distance, the sound of Donovan’s cart faded, carrying the blue-eyed young woman away from Zaun. Vi closed her eyes, her face contorted with pain.
Stay safe, beautiful, she thought, though she knew she would never know her name.
***
Caitlyn lay motionless on the silk sheets, her figure so still it barely seemed to draw breath. The chamber, bathed in the soft glow of chandeliers, was silent, broken only by the faint crackle of candles. Violet’s scent, deep and intoxicating, still saturated her dress, her skin, the air—a lingering trace of the charade they had staged. Her eyelids remained closed, but her mind was a whirlwind.
The image of Violet, tears tracing paths down her face as she simulated a brutal act, replayed in her head. Those gray eyes, heavy with anguish, had shattered the rumors branding Zaun’s heir a predator. Caitlyn knew, with a certainty that gripped her chest, that Vi was not the killer everyone feared.
The creak of the door opening broke the stillness. Caitlyn kept her body rigid, her breath so slow her abdomen didn’t stir. Heavy footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, accompanied by muffled murmurs.
“She’s dead, like the others,” said a deep voice, likely the physician’s. “Poor girl, she didn’t stand a chance against the princess.” Another voice, softer and feminine, whispered something unintelligible, tinged with pity. Caitlyn felt a shiver but clung to Violet’s words: Someone will say you’re dead and get you out of the castle. She trusted that promise, though fear still pulsed within her.
Cautious but firm hands wrapped her in a rough sheet. The fabric grazed her skin, exuding a smell of old linen and dust. Caitlyn kept her muscles lax, allowing them to handle her as if she were a corpse. They lifted her gently, placing her on a stretcher that creaked under her weight. The air grew cold as they left the chamber, infused with the scent of damp stone and metal from the castle. She heard the scrape of the stretcher and the echo of footsteps as they moved through a corridor. Her heart pounded fiercely, but she forced herself to remain still, trusting Violet’s plan.
The stretcher stopped after what felt like an eternity. The air turned fresh, carrying a hint of earth and grass that suggested the castle’s exterior. A new voice, rough but low, broke the silence.
“I’ll take it from here,” it said, likely the man tasked with transporting her. Caitlyn felt the sheet shift slightly, and a calloused hand brushed her wrist, discreetly checking her pulse. “Poor girl,” the man muttered, his tone convincing for any onlookers. Then, they lifted her from the stretcher and placed her carefully in a covered cart, the wooden floor creaking under her weight. The scent of hay and leather filled her lungs, and the soft whinny of a nearby horse confirmed the vehicle was ready to depart. The cart began to move, its wheels rattling over a gravel path, guided by the man holding the horse’s reins at the front.
When the echo of other footsteps faded, the man spoke in a whisper.
“You can open your eyes now, little one. We’re alone.” Caitlyn obeyed cautiously, her eyelids trembling as they adjusted to the dimness. She lay in a covered cart, beneath a starry sky filtering through the slits of a tarp. The man, sturdy with a weathered face and kind eyes, watched her from the driver’s seat, holding the reins. His expression, lit by the faint glow of a lantern, blended compassion and urgency. “The princess asked me to get you out of Zaun,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I’ll give you gold and take you to a safe place, far from here. But you must swear you’ll never return.”
Caitlyn nodded, her throat tight with emotion. She sat up slowly, the dress still stained with Vi’s essence, a tangible weight evoking everything that had happened. The cart moved along a rural path, flanked by tall trees whose branches whispered in the night breeze. The air was fresh, scented with pine and damp earth, a stark contrast to the castle’s confinement. The moon, high and radiant, illuminated the landscape, casting long shadows across the path. Caitlyn glanced back at the distant glimmers of Zaun, feeling a pang in her heart. She had come to this kingdom seeking truths, but she had uncovered a far deeper enigma.
“Why does she do it?” she asked in a whisper, her eyes fixed on the man. “The princess… why does she submit to this charade?”
The driver sighed, his face shadowed.
“It’s not my place to say,” he replied, his voice heavy with loyalty. “But the heir isn’t what the rumors claim. Every sacrifice she makes is to protect others, even if it costs her soul.”
Caitlyn pressed her lips together, her thoughts spinning like a whirlwind. The compassion she had felt for Violet in that chamber now intensified, entwined with a fierce determination. She couldn’t simply flee and forget. She, the princess of Piltover, had crossed the border seeking answers, and now she had a mission: to unravel the mystery surrounding Violet and dismantle the web of lies that imprisoned her. But for now, she had to play her part. She lay back in the cart, feigning fragility, as the man carried her beyond Zaun’s borders.
The rattle of the wheels and the chirping of crickets filled the stillness. Caitlyn closed her eyes, her face pale but resolute. You’re not a killer, Violet, she thought. And I swear I’ll find out who’s made you their puppet. The Alpha’s scent, still clinging to her dress, was an invisible bond that, unbeknownst to her, would keep her tied to Zaun’s heir.