Chapter Text
From the Journal of Luxanna Crownguard,
Year of the Young King, the 49th of Mark Argentia
What is the difference, do you think, between life and actually living? Where do you draw the line between these two things that seem like they ought to be the same? Then again, maybe it’s subtler than people think. Certainly moreso than most in Demacia would consider it to be. I know I didn’t put nearly as much consideration into it as one might expect for someone in my situation—as someone who constantly has to weigh the idea of my existing life versus the pursuit of living as I truly am.
I confess I am afraid.
My family is Demacian with blood as blue as the skies of a Silvermere summer. Change comes slowly to Crownguards and Lightshields and the many other ancient noble houses of the kingdom, and that is if it comes at all. Most still hold to the rigid, traditional ideas of roles and identities, ideas that other, more progressive nations like Piltover, Zaun, and even Noxus challenge by their very existence.
And, of course, Bilgewater.
Strange that I should feel such kinship with a place like Bilgewater.
It is a place with no true nobility. The terms ‘king’ and ‘queen’ are used among the pirates and privateers as an almost tongue-in-cheek joke. A mockery of the lineage of kings in every possible way. Especially since the only way to ascend to the rulership of the city is to, presumably, murder the current incumbent. I say that as if the throne of Demacia doesn’t have a few bloodstains here and there from past kings and queens who had quite the same idea, although couched in more patriotic or flowery terms. For whatever excuses are given, there is still a dead lord, a bloody crown, and an empty throne, soon to be filled by someone with a blade, an ambition, and the will to utilize both.
But again, life and living, yes?
Would I choose a safe life as a servant to an unworthy lord, or should I risk that life to truly live, as it were, with my ambitions realized and my will to power executed fully, come whatever might? When is life no longer worth living, I wonder? When does truly living become more valuable than—
Lux fumbled her stylus as a strong hand settled on her hip, and lips brushed across the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Illaoi had clearly woken up, then rolled over in bed to curl around Lux, who rolled her eyes as she swatted at Illaoi’s hand, which was starting to wander lower.
“You’re an absolute hound, you know that?” Lux said playfully. “Besides, I’m still sore from last night. Not everyone has enough goddess-given stamina to swim an ocean.”
“I am the truthbearer of Nagakabouros,” Illaoi growled against the back of her neck. “I don’t scare, I don’t tire, and I don’t stop.”
Sighing, Lux turned to capture Illaoi’s lips for a brief moment before drawing back and saying, “Yes, my backside is especially aware of that last one, in fact.”
Setting aside her journal and pen, Lux turned to ensconce herself in Illaoi’s embrace, settling her head in the crook of Illaoi’s shoulder and neck and taking a deep breath of the woman’s scent. There was a faint air of sweat and sea salt and a hint of incense that surely came from spending much of her life in the Temple of the Mother Serpent. It was strange and exotic, and yet perfectly familiar to Lux after spending a full week with Illaoi during their hunt in Bilgewater and then spending this last week with the woman in and out of bed.
That thought, among others, was trailed by other, more invasive thoughts. Thoughts that she had been trying to get down in her journal when Illaoi had so crudely interrupted her—although Lux would never claim the interruption was unwelcome. Despite the Zaunite elixir’s effects, Lux still suffered bouts of melancholia over the state of her body, but Illaoi had some ineffable quality to her that never failed to chase it away.
In simple terms, Illaoi always made her feel desirable.
Beautiful, even.
“I will not apologize for loving you as thoroughly as you deserve,” Illaoi murmured between the kisses that she trailed down Lux’s neck to her bare shoulders. “Besides,” she traced her hand back up along Lux’s hip to settle on her waist, “how can you expect me to resist such an…inexorable call?”
“The call of what, pray tell?” Lux asked wryly. “And by the Protector on high, I swear, if the word ‘booty’ passes your lips, I shall never speak to you again.”
“Such slander against the humorous culture of my people!” Illaoi replied with mock severity.
Lux swatted her hand—which had begun wandering once more—again and said, “I’ve heard at least three variations of that joke in every port along the Silk Coast, the Conquerer’s Coast, and the Iron Coast each. Bilgewater culture, my arse.”
“Your ‘arse’ indeed, my dear.”
“An absolute hound.” Lux didn’t fight her, though.
She kissed Illaoi instead, and Illaoi kissed her back. Lux melted into the stronger woman’s arms. It was such an unparalleled feeling to be cared for so deeply and thoroughly and to have someone who was as invested in making sure she felt as safe as possible to be the person she wanted to be. One thing that was utterly true was the fact that she never felt better about being herself than she did when she was around Illaoi. It did, however, starkly contrast with the idea that when she had to face her family, there would likely be a far chillier reaction.
And she would have to face them eventually.
Illusory magic and makeup could only go so far, and the longer she took the elixir, the more noticeable she would become. Her veils could only hide so much, and it would only get harder. It was better to confront them now, at the beginning, than to wait, and have months or even years of secrets come between them.
There was a virtue in honesty, even if it was only the virtue of ripping a bandage off quickly.
“Let’s go out tonight,” Lux said after several long moments of quiet cuddling.
“Anywhere you wish, stormlight,” Illaoi replied, brushing her nose affectionately against Lux’s. “Although there are few enough places in this town which act as eateries.”
Lux shook her head. “There’s another town within half a day’s travel from here by horse called Vyersdell. It’s quite sizeable for a town so close to the coast, thanks to a convergence of trade roads, and it’s a popular place for nobles to spend time in the countryside.”
“Mmm, so we’re to venture deeper into Demacia, then?” Illaoi asked a touch more seriously.
“If…only if you wish to follow me,” Lux said quietly.
Illaoi sat up, pulling Lux along with her and cradling her close as she said, “I would follow you to whatever maelstrom calls you.” She stroked her fingers along Lux’s cheek, and Lux leaned into the affectionate touch. “If your soul draws you inland, then inland we shall go. I do not intend to leave this place without my woman, after all.”
“Every time you call me that,” Lux said huskily as she leaned in to brush her lips across Illaoi’s strong jawline, “I feel myself growing a little less wise.”
“How many hours travel to Vyersdell?” Illaoi asked a little too casually.
“About six or seven in good weather.”
“The weather is very good,” Illaoi noted as she rolled over until she was lying on top of Lux.
Lux rolled her eyes, then relaxed back into the mattress as she said, “I suppose it is.”
“You’re a terrible influence,” Lux muttered for the fifth time as the sun began to dip below the horizon, and Illaoi belted out a husky laugh.
They had not left Thalia’s Rest nearly as early as Lux would have liked. Lux had accepted all of the Truthbearer’s lusts and affections—and vigorously—and therefore shared a perfectly equal amount of blame for their tardiness. As such, it was almost noon before they managed to acquire a pair of good horses and leave the port, and Lux had known even then that no amount of good weather would make up for their lack of timeliness
She couldn’t find in herself to care too much, though.
Fortunately, they had made good time in spite of their…distractions.
“I am an influence,” Illaoi allowed from her enormous draft horse. The only beast of burden large enough to comfortably bear her since she dwarfed most Demacians. “Good or bad is a matter of perspective.”
“My perspective is that it’s getting dark when we ought to have been in sight of Vyersdell long before last light,” Lux replied dryly.
And the last light was already fading. All around them, the lush green forests of the Demacian countryside were giving way to the shadows of the night. The road itself had no lamps or streetlights like the city, and would soon be washed in total darkness. It was also growing quite cold, which left Lux with the distinct feeling she ought to have dressed more warmly. She had purchased a new set of traveling leathers—one more fitted for her body rather than Eluxar’s—and was wearing her pale, woolen cloak, and generally that was more than enough.
But it was getting closer to the cold season, wind and rain were more frequent, and, this close to the coast, both had a biting chill. Not that Illaoi seemed to have noticed. She was wearing little more than what she always wore, with her arms bared, and the only allowance to the weather was a thick mantle she had thrown over her shoulders in case of rain.
“I suppose I could always refrain from my affections for a day or two if they are so troublesome,” Illaoi mused.
“W-Well, no need to do anything drastic.” Lux’s protest came out with what some might call unseemly haste. “I’m not complaining about that.”
That husky chuckle issued from beside her. Illaoi was teasing her, as she often did. It was sometimes hard to tell whether or not Illaoi took the world completely seriously or if she took nothing seriously at all. It was hard to Lux to predict which it would be, even if she was certain there was some kind of pattern.
“Truly, though, Miss Luxanna,” Illaoi continued, “if my advances are ever unwelcome—”
“—they’re very welcome, I assure you,” Lux said quietly. “Maybe too welcome. I spent so much of my life despising my appearance and…and, well, everything about myself that the chance to…” she shook her head, not really sure where she was going. “A-Anyway, it’s like they say, it takes two, right? You distract me, and I let myself get distracted.”
“I do not think you know what distraction means, Miss Luxanna,” Illaoi said quietly.
Lux frowned and looked up at her. “Well, we’re running fairly late, so…”
Illaoi shook her head. “Distraction is different from ‘running late’,” she said. “Distraction is doing what is less important in lieu of what is more important, so I do not consider our delay to be the result of any form of distraction.”
“I’d say you should rethink your priorities, but that would be a bit of the pot calling the kettle black,” Lux remarked.
Again, Illaoi shook her head, though, and Lux raised an eyebrow as the Buhru priestess said, “You have spent the lion’s share of your life in a body not your own, in a nation that demands you douse your light, all while fighting an enemy in your own mind.” She looked down at Lux and smiled faintly. “But now your chains are broken, your body is your own, and you are finally free to enjoy it and to use it in every way once denied to you. Our souls are not our own, but our bodies are, and they are our greatest instruments! You are finally free to explore yours! To dance, and to sing, and to face the sun with a smile, and yes, occasionally make love throughout the morning. These are not distractions, Miss Luxanna…these are the barest necessities of life.”
And there it was again, that strange sense of seriousness. Illaoi truly did take the oddest things seriously, except that the more she spoke about them, the more sense she made. Lux had been raised under the aegis and teachings of the Protector, whose dictates demanded order—a place for all things and all things in their place—and Lux violated those dictates twice over at least. There was no place for the chaos of magic in Demacian society and certainly no place for a woman whose skin didn’t fit.
But that was not the Buhru way.
That was not Illaoi’s way.
To her, there were no ‘places’. There was only the vast ocean and life swimming within it. Those who swam and lived, and those who stopped and drowned. The very greatest swam with purpose, and Luxanna finally felt as though she knew which direction she was swimming in.
“I hate how much sense you make sometimes,” Lux said quietly.
“Such is the burden of the Truthbearer,” Illaoi quipped.
Despite herself, Lux laughed, and Illaoi laughed along with her. It had been a very long time since laughter had come so easily to her, but with Illaoi, it did. Or perhaps laughter simply came more easily to Luxanna than it did to Eluxar. That dour man, after all, had very little to laugh about. Luxanna, on the other hand, had many reasons to smile.
In a stroke of fortune, the last vestiges of the day had not quite vanished before Vyersdell came into view in the distance. They had already lit the lamps at the walls for the final straggling travelers, and the gates were, thankfully, still open. The guards at the gate goggled at Illaoi. Seeing one of the Buhru at a Demacian port was rare enough, but seeing one travel inland was unheard of. Combine that with the fact that Illaoi was an impressive specimen by any metric, and Lux could easily see why she would draw so many looks.
To Lux’s surprise, there was quite a bit of bustle and hustle still happening on the lamplit streets of the town. It wasn’t exactly a cosmopolitan center, but it had a certain kind of nightlife, Still, the last time she’d come through, there hadn’t been anything like this many people still on the streets. Stalls that had been closed were still open, dining establishments were still cooking in spite of the dinner rush having long passed.
That was when she saw them.
“Oh, no.” Lux’s blood ran cold as she glimpsed the polished silversteel helms moving through the crowd.
“What is it?” Illaoi asked, bristling as her hand drifted back towards where she had hung her great idol. “Foes?”
Lux shook her head. “No, not…it’s not that.” The knights broke through the crowd, and Lux saw the insignia on their pauldrons. “Those are Demacian High Guard,” she hissed. “They’re the honor guard for high-ranking officials, and if they’re here, then elements of the Dauntless Vanguard will be, too.”
“I have heard of them,” Illaoi admitted. “It is said that the Dauntless live up to their name and are peerless warriors.”
“They are,” Lux said quietly. “They are the most skilled knights in the whole of the Demacian military. So why are they all the way out here?”
She was, admittedly, a bit out of the loop. She had been traveling for quite some time and was separated from the Radiant’s intelligence network by more than one order of magnitude, thanks to her disguise. Her concerns weren’t military either, as a general rule. The Radiant only ever occasionally seconded an operative into the military ranks for advisory purposes or otherwise for counterintelligence or, naturally, if they suspected someone within the military ranks to be a traitor. Lux had certainly never worked with the Dauntless and didn’t expect to be privy to their movements, but this was odd.
“Will they recognize you?” Illaoi asked.
“I…no, I don’t…maybe?” Lux looked worriedly up at her. “My brother is Garen Crownguard, Knight Commander of the First Company, so they know…they know Eluxar quite well, but I don’t think First Company is here.”
“You are certain?” Illaoi asked.
“No, but…First Company is a combat operations group. They don’t do escorts, and the presence of the High Guard means someone is being escorted.” At least, Lux hoped that was still the case. The only person that First Company would ever be tasked with escorting anywhere was the King himself, and there was no reason for Jarvan Lightshield to come to Vyersdell.
“Perhaps we should move off the streets all the same,” Illaoi said cautiously as she began looking around, then tapped Lux’s shoulder and said, “How about there?”
Lux looked where Illaoi was pointing and found a small, significantly more understated public house. It didn’t have any of the brighter lights surrounding it and no signage other than a few marks denoting its purpose. It was probably as good a place as any to lay low until the streets were a little clearer since there would undoubtedly be a heavier concentration of Demacian knights deeper in the town.
There was a stable around the back, which Lux took advantage of. The stable boy was awed at the size of the draft horse that Illaoi was riding and promised to care for them personally. Lux thanked him by leaving a few extra silvers along with a request for his silence, which he also promised.
Keeping her hood on, Lux followed Illaoi into the tavern, and immediately, her stomach protested the lack of any decent food. She had nibbled on trail rations during the ride, but salted meat and dried berries were nothing compared to a real, hot meal.
“Well, it’s not quite the night out I imagined, but…” Lux reached out and took Illaoi’s hand.
“A night is made by the company that is kept,” Illaoi said warmly. “Not by the cost of the food or drink.”
They went to the bar first and, as fortune would have it, there was a room left. Only one, and not a large one, but that was to be expected with so many in town. Still, they took it, and Lux paid a little extra to ensure her things were taken from the stable up to the room while they ate. She didn’t want her elixir case to be sitting out all night in case it rained, and she would feel much better about it if they were locked away in a private room.
“Is there anywhere…quieter to eat?” Lux asked as she paid the older woman at the counter. Behind them, the raucous sounds of townsfolk enjoying a meal away from the crowds of visitors was growing louder, rather than quieter. Apparently, with the arrival of the knights, everyone was running a bit late.
“Not much in the way of privacy here, love,” the woman said with a faint smile, “but uh…” she nodded past them, “you can take the corner table. S’a bit quieter, if y’don’t mind it being a bit cramped.”
“We’ll take it,” Illaoi said before Lux could dither over the decision. “Thank you.”
They moved through the dining patrons to the table in the corner. It wasn’t actually quite as bad as the woman had made it sound, although if there had been more than the two of them, that might not have been the case. As it was, Illaoi took the outside seat, while Lux took the innermost one, which served the dual purpose of giving Illaoi the most room—which she desperately needed—and blocking any clear view of Lux from the outside.
There was no menu to order from, just two choices—stew or a leg of lamb, along with a loaf of warm bread and some fresh cream to go with it. Honestly, after a week at Thalia’s Rest, Lux was thrilled to have anything that wasn’t salted fish. They got both between them, along with flagons of the house ale, which was, surprisingly, not bad, and soon Lux found herself forgetting all of her worries as she drank and ate and smiled lovingly at Illaoi, allowing herself, time and again, to be mesmerized by the woman’s feral beauty.
Illaoi was almost alarmingly handsome, and Lux’s heart beat fast every time their eyes met. It was almost hard to believe that the Buhru priestess was probably just as smitten with her. Hard, but not impossible. Illaoi made it quite clear how she felt about Lux, and in no uncertain terms.
For that, Lux was eternally grateful.
If it had been anyone else, Lux wasn’t sure she would have believed them, no matter what they promised or swore to her. Illaoi, though? Illaoi did not lie. She did precisely what she wanted when she wanted to do it, and right then, what she wanted was Lux.
“Illaoi, can I ask you a question?” Lux said.
“Of course,” Illaoi replied, lowering her flagon. “What is on your mind?”
“Will you ever grow tired of me?” she asked softly.
Illaoi’s expression softened. “I am a Truthbearer, not a seer, Luxanna,” she said quietly. “I cannot see the future or what it holds for us, but—” she reached out and laid her hand over Lux’s— “to ask that of me now, I would say that I would sooner grow weary of the waves and the moon and the stars, than grow weary of you, my stormlight.”
Tears threatened at the edges of Lux’s eyes.
“That’s…I’m sorry,” she wiped at her eyes. “I just—”
“Here, this place looks good.” A familiar voice rose above the soft conversation of the patrons, and Lux went stiff. Looking up and over Illaoi’s shoulder, her eyes went wide as she spied a familiar silhouette moving through the crowd, followed by a taller figure.
“What is it?” Illaoi asked, clearly sensing the change in Lux’s demeanor.
“I know that voice,” Lux said softly. “Of all people, why her?”
“Hello!” The familiar voice said as she reached the counter. “Can we get a table for two? Somewhere a bit out of the way, if possible?”
Cithria of Cloudfield stood at the counter, and she wasn’t alone. Her companion was tall, broad, and wore a heavy grey cloak with a deep cowl, but no amount of cloak could hide the way they moved. They were a warrior, born and bred—it was obvious the slight way their head moved beneath the cloak to keep track of the sounds and motions around them.
“Funny you should ask that,” the tavernkeeper said.
“Why do you say that?” Cithria asked.
“No reason,” the keeper replied. “Just…two—or rather, four—in one night. But, not my business. Over there’s fine, yeah?”
To Lux’s horror, the tavern keeper pointed to a table that was almost immediately adjacent to herself and Illaoi, and Cithria, even more horrifyingly, agreed with enthusiasm. The young knight reached back and took the hand of her companion with a familiar intimacy and towed them towards the table until they were within arms reach of Illaoi, but Cithria barely seemed to notice them. Her eyes were only for the one she was with.
Cithria turned to them as they reached the table and whispered, “No one will see us here. The knights all eat at the barracks or the bigger taverns. No one here knows us or cares.”
A soft sigh issued from Cithria’s companion, and Cithria smiled a little more broadly, still too enamored of her company to notice either Illaoi or Lux, who was doing her best to hide in her flagon of ale while still watching with a kind of voyeuristic fascination. She hadn’t realized that Cithria had a paramour. It was something of a shock to discover that Cithria, who knew everything about Eluxar, including her true desire to be Luxanna, and was one of the few people who understood her, apparently had a secret lover.
Lux was just considering how to, perhaps, broach the topic once they had time to catch up when Cithria went up on her toes and swept back her companion’s hood, and there was a loud clatter and sputtering as Lux choked violently on her ale. The alcohol went at least three places it ought not, as Lux watched her closest friend kiss the High Marshal Tianna Crownguard full on the mouth.
Unfortunately, the noise did not go unnoticed.
The pair pulled back from one another and looked sharply over at Lux, who was desperately trying to clear her throat, so much so that she didn’t have time to throw up a masking spell or anything to hide her appearance. An appearance that Cithria had seen before and clearly remembered if the stricken look on the young woman’s face was anything go by as she said, hollowly, “L-Lux?”
So much for their peaceful date.