Mel Medarda had known the vote was coming eventually. There was just so much uncertainty amongst the Council these days, with the betrayals and the assassinations… While the creation of a High Councilor was necessary, Mel was never delusional enough to believe that she would retain the position. Her origins would always work against her. It didn't matter what she did or what she said -- she was born and raised in Noxus.
Anti-Noxus sentiment was already on the rise for rather obvious reasons, but once the invasion was defeated Mel expected that it would skyrocket. The people who were so busy fighting the enemy or wondering what the day would bring didn't have the energy to hate. But when the dust settled and Piltover remained an independent city, the citizens would begin rebuilding their lives and their home. They would see the destruction that happened because of Noxus’ wanton lust for conquest, they would mourn those who had died in the invasion, and they would know exactly who to blame for all their worldly problems.
She could have been the leader that saw Piltover keep its freedom. She could have personally vanquished the armies of her homeland with a wave of her hand. It wouldn't have mattered. Anything born of Noxus would be hated. Despised. Tainted by mere affiliation. There would be a rallying cry from the survivors of the invasion within a few months. Mel had even anticipated Cassandra to be the one leading the charge to see her ousted after she and her family returned from wherever they’d fled.
Something Mel would accept. She would step down with dignity and grace, leaving the city that had been her home for over a decade, content that she had done all that she could for Piltover. It wasn't what she wanted, of course. But it was an inevitability that she was willing to accept.
What Mel hadn't accounted for was Cassandra only giving her a day as High Councilor before ousting her. Her points about Caitlyn weren't without merit, but Mel also knew that Cassandra would fight the appointment tooth and nail and until her dying breath if Caitlyn was anyone other than her daughter. A young woman with unproven leadership skills in a time of crisis? One with no political inclinations or accomplishments?
So now Mel stood in her villa before a canvas that she was layering paint upon. Morning had come once more, filling the once prosperous city with sounds of war. Mel didn't know who was winning at the moment, and there was a selfish part of her that found she didn't much care either. It was petulant. A childish part of her that had been hurt by the city and now demanded that it be hurt in return.
There was a knock at the door. “Lady Medarda, Councilor Kiramman is here to see you.”
Given that there was no advanced notice, Mel knew which one of the Kiramman Clan she would be dealing with. A soft sigh escaped her before she spoke, “Let her in.” Her guard moved to carry out the order and a few seconds later, the door opened.
“Cou- oh,” Caitlyn uttered, entering the room with a plan, only to be caught off guard. There were plenty of choices to explain why -- the wine bottles she had worked through overnight, the fact that she only wore a silk shift that ended at her upper thighs and was kept in place by two thin straps, the paints her hands were covered in, or- “I didn't know you painted. It's beautiful.”
The canvas depicted Piltover as it had been. As it should be. Not the husk that it became because of Noxus. Because of Law.
“Thank you, High Councilor,” Mel replied, her voice neither warm nor cold. “It's a hobby I've kept close to my chest over the years.”
“Have you ever shown your work?” Caitlyn questioned, approaching her and coming to a stop nearby. It was actually irritating that Caitlyn sounded like she meant the praise.
“A few pieces,” Mel admitted, well past the point of caring. “All under a false name, of course. I wanted my work to stand on its own legs and not because of my name.” The value of art belonged to the beholder. Of the three pieces she sold at auction, the one she had been most proud of had barely closed over the opening bid. The one she thought was her worst work had sold for ten times the starting amount.
It had been an exceedingly exhausting experience, so now she just had her work put in storage. Storage that had probably gone up in flames like everything else in the city.
“I… I understand the feeling,” Caitlyn admitted. “I… I wanted to be an Enforcer. I even tried to apply under a different name just to make sure that I wasn't receiving any special treatment. And now… now, I'm a Councilor all because of my last name.”
Well, at least she had the decency to admit it. “High Councilor,” Mel corrected. “I hadn't exactly finished the paperwork for all the duties the position would have, but the title was one of them.”
Caitlyn stole a glance at Mel, attempting to gauge her feelings based on her tone. Mel gave nothing away. “... Right,” Caitlyn replied, ceding the opening that Mel gave her. “I… wanted to speak to you about that. About your position on the Council.”
Clumsily done. Too much hesitation. Caitlyn wore her feelings on her sleeve, and that could be a strength. It was a strength. Because, despite her position being usurped by the younger woman, Mel didn't exactly blame Caitlyn for it. It was obvious that she didn't accept the position out of a sense of ambition or harboring some grudge. Her mother had orchestrated the entire thing. She just benefited from it.
Which, admittedly, was why Mel wasn't Caitlyn's biggest fan at the moment. It was one thing to rise up through your own merits, ambitions, and cleverness. It was another thing entirely to have power just… fall into your lap like it had with Caitlyn.
“What position on the Council?” Mel questioned, not looking at Caitlyn. “I believe I made myself quite clear last night. I refuse to be humiliated any more than I already have. As such, I have withdrawn from the Council of Piltover.”
“I know,” Caitlyn admitted. “But… Mel… I need you. Piltover needs you. I have the position because of my mother, but you- you have the experience. You know everyone and you know how Piltover… works.” There was a frustration bubbling in her voice. A desperation. “You're the one that had the spine to stand up to Noxus. You wanted to fight. So, I'm asking you to keep fighting.”
Caitlyn approaching her upon assuming her position wasn't a surprise. Even when she departed the Council chambers, Mel knew it was an inevitability. Before Caitlyn had fallen into the arms of Cinder, Caitlyn had long harbored a crush on Mel. While Mel didn't reciprocate them, she hadn't dissuaded her feelings either. As such, Caitlyn considered Mel a friend. A true one. One who would cover for her at galas or keep an ear open to her litany of complaints about them.
There was a path back to power for her. It wouldn't take much to manipulate Caitlyn. Perhaps she would never be High Councilor outright, but she could be the power behind the throne.
She made plans and plans while she drank and painted, yet when the moment arrived…
“Caitlyn,” Mel uttered softly. “I was fifteen years old when I was exiled to Piltover. Exiled because I valued diplomacy over ruthless intrigue and brutality. I arrived with almost nothing -- only a friend, who has been lost to me, and my last name.” Caitlyn knew what was coming and she braced herself for it. “Now, after twelve years in Piltover, I find myself no more welcome than I was in Noxus.”
“You- you haven't been exiled,” Caitlyn offered, and even without the pointed glance from Mel, she looked like she was grimacing around the foot in her mouth.
“No,” Mel acknowledged. “Merely watched as everything I have built here has been lost. Or taken.”
Now Caitlyn was cringing, knowing there was nothing she could say to that. Honestly, if she was going to be High Councilor, she really needed to master her expressions. The girl didn't have an ounce of guile in her. But, seeing that Caitlyn had nothing to say, Mel continued, “Piltover is done with me, and I find myself done with Piltover. I do appreciate your offer, but I'm afraid that I must refuse it.”
For her part, Caitlyn seemed sad but she didn't exactly seemed surprised. She understood that it was always a longshot. “I understand,” she admitted, however unhappily. “In that case… what will you do next, Mel?”
At that, Mel smiled. She felt lighter. Though, that could just be the wine. “I haven't decided yet,” she admitted. Though she did have ideas. Several ideas.
“Whatever you intend, I wish you luck. And if you ever need anything Mel, I hope you know you can rely on me. Spirits know that I’ve relied on you countless times,” Caitlyn offered and Mel inclined her head, accepting the parting words for what they were. It was as dignified of a parting as Mel could muster. A stern refusal to rejoin the Council but leaving the High Councilor with a sense of debt. A favor to be called in at some point in the future, perhaps.
With that, High Councilor Kiramman left her studio and left Mel alone to paint. Even if she was alone for only a moment.
“I'll be honest,” Law revealed his presence, seated upon her couch. Mel's flesh rose at his arrival, but she kept her hand steady as she resumed her painting. “I did not peg you as the type to go quietly into that good night.”
It was also equally unsurprising that Law had voted against her in that meeting. In essence, despite being allied, their desires for Piltover were at odds. She couldn't even begrudge him the move either. She would have done the same in his shoes. However, she could and did find his unannounced arrival irritating. All the more so when he all but confirmed that he was listening in on her private conversations.
The power that Law boasted was difficult to grasp. He could teleport himself and others with little difficulty, and he had an uncanny ability to hear conversations not meant for his ears. Then there was that terrible presence he exuded. Yet, that was all she knew of it. Mel had attempted to dig into accounts of the fight that served as the first wave of devastation for Piltover, but they were lacking in validity to serve as credible sources.
“It is beneath me to stamp my feet and throw a tantrum when things don't go my way,” Mel replied, continuing to paint as if nothing was amiss. “There was a vote and I lost. I'm still young. I have time to recoup and start over.”
“Any idea where?” Law asked with a teasing grin that she could feel.
“I think I would do quite well in Bilgewater,” Mel retorted. A den of pirates and degenerates, but the nobility of Piltover were little better. “I'm more curious as to what you will do now that I am no longer an obstacle on the Council.” It was a loaded question. More so than Mel wanted to admit.
Law never hid his intentions after the reveal at her villa. He wanted to recruit both her and her mother. However, the details were vague. Was he looking to sate his base lust? Was there a specific position that they were to fill? He called it his hobby to enable people like herself -- enabling them to achieve their ambitions, but to what end?
Had she fallen out of favor now that she had been ousted from power? Had his interest suddenly waned? Or had it increased now that she was no longer beholden to the traditions of Piltover and the Council? Or was he simply more interested because she wasn't behaving as expected?
“I'm going to let things play out a bit,” Law confessed his plan with an uncaring whim. “Swain turned out to be far more interesting than I anticipated. Cut off his arm without batting an eyelash before subduing a demon and turning it into a new one. Caitlyn is in an interesting spot, too. A wide-eyed innocent Enforcer turned wartime leader… some hard decisions ahead of her, and those choices are going to shape her.”
It really was just a game to him. Their lives, their choices, and their consequences. All reduced to mere entertainment. It was…
Terrifying.
Intoxicating.
Law was perhaps the closest thing Mel had ever encountered to a god, both in power and in attitude. Just like the gods, he could just as easily grant a prayer as he could smite the supplicant. It was a level of power she never even dreamed of, and it was offered to her. Not without strings, of course. Her hesitance stemmed from the fact that Law wouldn't tell her what those strings were.
“And the city?” Mel asked, not entirely sure if she wanted an answer.
“Well, considering how the deal about my special troops was made with you… I think I'll let you decide if they remain active or not,” Law replied. A little test for her.
There wasn't a right answer, but there was a correct one. Law wasn't oblivious to risk vs reward, but they didn't weigh as heavily upon the scales of his reasoning as they should. The correct answer was whatever Law would find entertaining. Just like when she murdered Heimerdinger.
“I believe that I would like one of them to remain here as a bodyguard,” Mel said. “The scarred girl. Maki, was it?” She seemed far more stable than the purple beast that rampaged through Piltover, and the less said about the large werewolf, the better. Neither the ginger haired girl or the Vastaya had been seen in action, though that did not mean they weren't active. Maki, however, was a proven combatant… and a potential source of information.
“I'll let her know," Law replied, giving nothing away. “And the others?”
That was likely what prompted the inquiry. A test to see if she would spite the city that turned its back on her. Under most circumstances, it would be a test of loyalty. With Law…
“Would it be terrible of me to ask if you would loan them out to dear General Swain?” Mel asked, continuing to paint. It was a dangerous game of balances, but there remained a singular goal: to remain in Law's good graces.
Law laughed, and she knew she’d succeeded. Those beasts that had terrorized Noxus would make things more difficult for Caitlyn, facilitating whatever plan that Law had for her. While also revealing a side to Mel that Law found enticing. A side of herself that Mel was still discovering herself.
A year ago. A year ago, she would have been incapable of giving that order. Worse, she couldn’t tell if the change was due to Law's influence, her mother's, or if the past year had simply worn away the soft edges of her heart.
“A little,” Law replied, though he evidently didn't disapprove. “You have it out for Caitlyn then, hm?”
“No, not Caitlyn,” Mel admitted. It was somewhat irritating that it was still true. “Her mother. Cassandra. We were allies, once. A faction of progress in the Council. Then I picked up her investment in Jayce when she foolishly cut her losses, and reaped the profits. She never forgave me for it.” It was jealousy, plain and simple. As if Cassandra wouldn't have done the same. As if Mel had in any way caused her to make that mistake.
‘Hypocrite.’ Cassandra Kiramman was a hypocrite of the highest order, and one who would make endless excuses and justifications for how she wasn't.
Law let out a hum while Mel stepped back. The painting was near completion, though a few places needed to be touched up. Mostly from where the wine had gotten the better of her. She heard him get off the couch and approach her from behind, and she found that she didn't mind when his hand grasped hers to guide the palette knife or the hand on the small of her back.
“I do feel bad about voting you off the Council,” he admitted. And it was even more annoying that he seemed honest. “Unavoidable, I'm afraid. But, still, I feel bad. I do have a few thoughts on how to make it up to you, however.”
“I'm sure that you do,” Mel retorted, letting him guide her through the finishing touches. He wasn't bad at it either.
“If you were going to take revenge upon Cassandra… how would you want it done?” The teasing question with a smile in his voice was anything but innocent. Mel understood that with a word, she could condemn her rival. Her betrayer. Cassandra would wake up with a slit neck, or she could find herself in the hands of their savage enemies. Despite herself, Mel couldn’t deny that there was a vindictive temptation.
But any cruelty inflicted upon Cassandra would be reflected upon Caitlyn. Meaning if she were to take vengeance, then Cassandra would need to survive. She…
“Hmmm,” Mel hummed, unable to stop the faint curling of her lips. “You’ve been something of an inspiration. Caitlyn will be remade by her crucible. I would wish Cassandra to go through her own.” Cassandra had already given up her Council seat, but she wasn’t without political power.
If Mel were to snip those strings, Cassandra would be driven to action. Determined to safeguard her daughter from harsh political realities or to smooth over political blunders. That would give Mel leverage. Little by little, she could twist Cassandra into a shadow of herself. Until she was groveling at Mel’s feet. The thought of it made her smile grow ever so slightly.
“Oho,” Law was grinning now. “How catty.”
“I would prefer if your efforts were to facilitate my own. I’ve never been one to let others act on my behalf.” That, and there was a very real possibility that Law would take her revenge a step too far. Or several steps. “I would also like a question answered if you wish to make up for the loss of my Council seat. Which I’ve held for the better part of ten years.” Six, but that was neither here nor there.
“I’ll answer, but I won’t promise to be honest,” Law replied. He wasn’t above lying, but she didn’t think he would. Simply because he didn’t need to.
“What do you want from me?” Mel asked, lowering her hand before stepping back to admire the painting. It was one she could be proud of, even if she did paint it half drunk half the time and fully drunk the other half. It was Pitover as it was. How it would remain in her memories, regardless of what it was now. Or what Law would turn it into.
Law was silent for a moment before speaking in a matter-of-fact tone. “I have roles in my little empire that need to be filled. Your mother is a warrior queen. The kind that will wage war endlessly. I have need of people like her, and General Swain, if he’s worth my attention. I already have a few spymasters, ruthless cutthroats, and pragmatic idealists.”
Mel tilted her head to look back at him and found him looking down at her. “What I don’t have is a velvet glove. Someone who can talk someone into going to hell and make them look forward to the trip. Build trade networks that don’t just span planets, but across universes. You are that person.”
The idea did appeal to her. Everything that she had done, everything that she was good at, just on an infinitely larger scale. In places that had never heard of the name Medarda. Yet, “I imagine that it would be quite the headache. You strike me as the type to enjoy using a closed fist over an open hand.”
“I enjoy whatever works. Some worlds, we’ll conquer. Others, we can bring into the fold with a few meetings over a cup of tea. And a few we’ll do both. How does that sound?”
Mel considered it all for the span of a moment. Then, with slow deliberate action, she lifted herself up on her tiptoes to press her lips against Law’s. It was a chaste kiss that neither lingered nor invited reciprocation. It was instead an invitation. Only amateurs used seduction as a cudgel, getting on their knees when they encountered the slightest bit of resistance.
Real seduction was the chase.
“I think you’ve found your woman.”