Chapter Text
Chapter 10: A Woman Who Shoulders the World
A crisp autumn breeze swept through the grand foyer of the Kiramman ancestral home, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and earth. Morning light streamed through the tall windows, stretching across the polished floors like golden ribbons.
Three figures stood near the entrance. A large, well-worn duffel bag rested beside the door.
Tobias Kiramman stood with his daughter, a somber smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Caitlyn mirrored his expression, blinking rapidly, as if willing herself to stay composed. A few steps back, Vi stood with her arms crossed, her posture relaxed, but her gaze sharp and unreadable.
She watched as Caitlyn said her goodbyes to her father, the two of them exchanging quiet words of affection. Vi had spoken to Tobias only a handful of times in the past three months—she could count the conversations on one hand. In the beginning, his eyes had been cold, not in anger, but in grief, the kind that weighed down a man’s shoulders and hollowed out his voice. He had spoken to her only when necessary, and Vi had made a habit of staying out of his way, which wasn’t difficult. She and Caitlyn were rarely home for long.
But something had shifted over time. The weight of Tobias’ gaze had softened. During their shared dinners, the tension had become less rigid, the silence more companionable. He still looked at her with sadness—Vi had seen that same sadness in Caitlyn’s eyes, too—but there was something else now.
Acceptance.
Maybe even gratitude.
Caitlyn took a deep breath. “Father, I promise to do better. To be better. Just like you and Mother taught me.”
Tobias exhaled slowly and pulled her into a firm embrace. His strong arms wrapped around her as they had so many times before, offering the steady comfort she had always known.
“I know you will,” he murmured. “You have your mother’s strength and an unshakable will.”
A fresh wave of tears welled in Caitlyn’s eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, savoring the safety of his presence, of this moment.
“Do you think she’d be proud of me?” she asked, her voice small, like a child’s. A tone Tobias hadn’t heard in years.
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, soothing her like it had when she was little. He pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over her cheeks.
“Your mother was always proud of you,” he said with quiet certainty. “Even when she struggled to show it.”
Caitlyn let out a soft, shaky laugh. She leaned into his touch, drawing strength from it.
Tobias studied her, his gaze lingering on the woman she had become. To him, she would always be the little girl who beamed with delight when she hit a bullseye during their training sessions. But time had changed her. His smile faltered slightly as his eyes drifted to her left side—her deep blue right eye now paired with a scarred, gray left.
His grip tightened for a moment before he let out a slow breath. “My only regret is that I couldn’t do more.”
Caitlyn shook her head, placing her hand over his. “I’ll be all right,” she assured him softly, then turned her gaze to Vi. “I have Vi on my side.”
Tobias followed her line of sight. Vi met his gaze, chin slightly lifted, expression steady.
He gave Caitlyn one last squeeze before stepping back. “I know. But take care of yourselves.”
The moment lingered before he turned to the door, glancing at the bag by his feet.
“Vi, would you mind giving me a hand?”
Vi arched a brow, glancing at Caitlyn, who offered her a small nod.
“Of course.”
She strode forward, grabbing the worn leather bag before following Tobias outside.
The garden was still damp with morning dew, the scent of lavender and earth fresh in the cool air. The sun had barely crested the horizon, casting long shadows over the path as they walked in silence.
Vi kept her grip firm on the bag, though it was surprisingly light.
“That bag means a lot to me,” Tobias said after a while, his voice calm. “It carried everything I owned when I first arrived in Piltover.”
Vi’s gaze flickered to the leather duffel.
“I came here from Ionia to study medicine,” he continued. “On my first day, I wandered into the wrong alley and was mugged. Lost nearly everything I had. A young enforcer saved me—Grayson. Afterward, she took me to the station to file a report.”
Vi listened in silence, intrigued by the unexpected story.
“Shit first day,” she muttered.
Tobias chuckled. “At the time, I thought so, too. But while I waited at the station, a girl in plain clothes and a cap struck up a conversation with me. Nothing extraordinary—just small talk, a distraction while we both waited.” His lips curved into a reminiscent smile. “It was brief, but in that moment, I felt like I had made my first friend in this city.”
They paused near a cluster of lavender, Tobias reaching down to pluck a small sprig.
“A servant eventually came for her,” he continued. “Turned out she had run away from home and had been causing quite a bit of mischief.”
Vi huffed a quiet laugh. “Sounds like a real firecracker. Would’ve liked to have met her.”
Tobias’ smile deepened. “You did. It was Cassandra.”
Vi’s steps faltered. She turned to him, her mouth slightly open, as if trying to find words.
Tobias simply nodded.
Then his expression grew somber. “Vi… I owe you an apology.”
Vi stiffened slightly.
“I lashed out at you after Cassandra’s passing,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive your sister, but over the past year, I’ve had time to reflect.” He let out a slow sigh. “This city is broken. Divided. And your sister’s actions… they were the result of years of oppression.”
Vi swallowed, unsure how to respond.
Tobias didn’t wait for her to. “I believe in what you and Caitlyn are trying to do. I know it won’t be easy, and it will take more from you than you realize.” He turned to her fully, his eyes searching hers. “So, I ask you—as a father—please, look after my daughter.”
Vi’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak past it. “Of course, sir. I’ll never leave her side.”
Tobias’ expression softened. He gestured for them to keep walking.
“I know you love her,” he said after a few steps. “I saw it in the way you stayed by her side after the battle. Even when you were barely holding on yourself.”
Vi remained quiet, absorbing the weight of his words.
They reached the gate. Tobias extended his hand, and Vi passed him the bag. But instead of leaving, he held out his hand again—this time for a handshake.
Vi grasped it firmly.
“In you, I see a woman who shoulders the world,” Tobias said. “But remember, a relationship is a partnership. Lean on Caitlyn when you need to.”
Before Vi could respond, Tobias pulled her into a brief, fatherly hug.
Then he stepped back, picking up his bag and turning toward the road.
“Take care,” he called over his shoulder. “And remind Caitlyn to write. You know she’ll forget.”
Vi smirked faintly. “Yeah… I will.”
She watched as he walked away, disappearing down the misty path, leaving behind the quiet hum of morning.
Vi walked back toward the entrance, where Caitlyn stood waiting, a warm smile gracing her lips. Without a word, Caitlyn reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together as they stepped inside the now-empty mansion.
They stopped just past the foyer, the vast silence of the estate settling around them. Caitlyn leaned into Vi’s side, resting her head on her shoulder with a quiet sigh.
“You know,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice tinged with something somber, “I don’t think I’ll miss living in this house.” Her fingers tightened slightly around Vi’s. “It always felt too large, too old, too cold.”
She paused, exhaling slowly. “The only thing that made this place feel like home was my parents…”
Her voice trailed off, lost in memories.
She had spent so many years at odds with her mother—arguing over everything from schooling to friends, to lovers, to her future. At the time, every disagreement had felt like a battle she needed to win. But now, standing here as an adult, she could see what her mother had been trying to teach her all along: integrity, curiosity, independence.
And yet, all she could think about now were the things they would never be able to share with her.
Her father had been the balance in their home—the quiet calm that tempered any storm. Losing Cassandra had changed him. When he told her he was leaving, returning to Ionia, she hadn’t been surprised. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt.
Caitlyn tilted her head, looking at Vi.
Her father had only left when he was sure she wouldn’t be alone. When he knew she would always have someone looking out for her.
A small, wistful smile touched her lips. “And I think… wherever you are is where I’ll call home.”
Vi turned her head, meeting Caitlyn’s gaze. Her own eyes shimmered, emotion pressing at the edges, threatening to spill over.
“Me too, Cupcake.”
They made their way upstairs to Caitlyn’s room, time slipping through their fingers. The announcement wasn’t until later tonight, but their schedules were packed, leaving them only this brief respite.
Caitlyn dressed with a practiced efficiency, slipping into a black turtleneck and tailored slacks, her blue coat lined with gold accents draped over her shoulders. An eyepatch covered her left eye, and her hair was styled loosely, falling naturally around her face.
Vi, on the other hand, opted for a more familiar look—slim black trousers tucked into heavy boots, a snug short-sleeved shirt, and her hands wrapped in cloth. Finally, she picked up a faded red jacket from the bed, fingers brushing over the worn fabric.
“I can’t believe you kept this,” she murmured, turning it over in her hands.
Caitlyn hesitated, her voice tinged with something unspoken. “I couldn’t part with it… it was all I had of yours.”
Vi turned to her, studying the way Caitlyn busied herself with small touches to her outfit. Stepping closer, she slid her arms around Caitlyn’s waist, watching their reflection in the mirror.
“Did you ever try it on?” Vi teased, her voice low.
Caitlyn’s cheeks tinged pink.
“Perhaps…” she replied, feigning indifference.
Vi smirked. “Oh yeah?”
A sigh. Caitlyn knew there was no escaping Vi’s persistence. She dropped her gaze, fingers smoothing over her coat as if that would ground her. “After our… separation, I might have worn it to sleep. Once or twice.”
The blush darkened, spreading to her ears.
Vi grinned.
Shaking her head, Caitlyn straightened abruptly, her movements stiff as she turned to face Vi. “All right, finished. We should get going.”
Vi chuckled, stepping back with her hands raised in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Let’s go, Cupcake.”
They walked hand in hand to the front gate, where their paths would diverge. As they neared, their hands finally slipped apart, lingering for just a second longer before letting go.
“Have you decided where you’re heading first?” Caitlyn asked.
Vi nodded. “Yeah. Gonna check in with Little Man first. Haven’t seen him since the battle. After that, I’ll take a look at the old stomping grounds.”
Caitlyn hummed in understanding. “I’ll stop by the station first. I want to review the last batch of applicants personally. Then I’ll meet with the Ferros clan.”
Vi frowned slightly. “Ferros, huh? I still have a weird feeling about them, babe.”
Caitlyn sighed. “Yeah, I don’t trust them either. But right now, they have the most sway on the council.”
Vi pursed her lips, not liking it, but knowing Caitlyn was right.
They slowed as they crossed the gate, pausing just long enough for Caitlyn to lean in, pressing a quick kiss to Vi’s lips.
“Be safe,” she murmured.
Vi smirked, stepping back. “I should be the one telling you that.”
She walked backward for a few paces, watching Caitlyn with a teasing glint in her eye before finally turning on her heel.
Caitlyn stood there for a moment, watching Vi disappear down the path, the morning sun catching on her red jacket before she was gone.
Then, with a small exhale, she turned and headed into the city.
Vi stood at the city’s edge, the bathysphere to the Undercity back in operation, its cables rattling in the distance. She glanced down at the familiar sprawl below—neon lights pulsed like veins through the darkness, and the air carried the heavy cocktail of oil, rusted metal, chemicals, and sewage. The scent hit her like a punch to the gut.
No hesitation.
She stepped off the ledge.
The wind roared past her ears as she twisted midair, her body moving on instinct. At the last second, her hands caught the cliff’s edge, muscles coiling before she kicked off the wall, flipping backward onto a nearby rooftop. Her boots slammed down, the impact jarring up her legs, but she barely noticed.
She still had it.
Without slowing, Vi launched into motion—vaulting across rooftops, sprinting over rusted pipework, her body a blur against the Undercity skyline. The city blurred past in streaks of blue and pink, fire escapes rattling under her weight as she slid down rails, her boots skimming across metal. She cut through open windows of abandoned buildings, ducking under low-hanging beams, her momentum never breaking.
Aspects, she’d missed this.
As she ran, she stole quick glances at the streets below. It looked the same. The same flickering neon, the same tangled mess of pipes and walkways. But there was more graffiti now. More blue.
Ahead, a long gap stretched between two buildings. She knew this jump—there used to be a mural of a woman overlooking the alley. It had always been one of her favorites.
Vi picked up speed.
She hit the edge and launched herself forward, tucking her knees, arms slicing back to minimize drag. But as she soared, something caught her eye—a flash of blue, streaks of paint at the edge of her vision.
Her head turned, just slightly—
Too late.
Her landing came hard. Instead of rolling smoothly, she slammed against the rooftop, skidding and tumbling before coming to a stop flat on her back. For a moment, she just lay there, breath heaving.
Then, with a grunt, she pushed herself upright—her gaze locked on the mural that had stolen her attention.
It wasn’t the woman she remembered.
The new mural loomed over the jump, larger than life. It was Jinx.
Her sister stood at the center, a massive flag clutched in her grip, long blue braids whipping behind her in imagined wind. Her expression wasn’t the usual manic grin—this was different. Determined. Defiant. Below her, a crowd surged forward, each figure painted with streaks of blue in their hair.
Vi exhaled slowly, resting her forearms against the rooftop edge, taking it in.
Behind her, the soft whirr of fan blades cut through the mist.
She tensed.
Turning her head slightly, she caught the movement—three figures closing in on hoverboards, their silhouettes gliding through the haze. The one on the left was a broad-shouldered man, bat-like ears protruding from his mask. The rightmost figure was lean, sharp, a crow’s beak jutting from her faceplate. And in the center—white braids spilling over an owl mask—hovered someone she knew all too well.
Vi smirked, leaning back against the ledge, arms crossing over her chest.
"Hey, little man. How long you been following me?"
The central figure kicked off his board, flipping it onto his back with practiced ease. A hiss of pressure released as his mask detached, revealing a familiar face, marked by the hourglass painted across his skin.
Ekko grinned.
“Long enough.” His eyes flicked toward the rooftop where she’d crashed. “That was some landing. You losing your touch, Vi?”
Caitlyn walked the streets of Piltover, her steps steady, but her mind restless. The city had endured three months of uneasy quiet since the Hexgate attack, yet scars of the Herald’s rampage lingered. Twisted metal spirals jutted from buildings like broken ribs, and the faces of the people mirrored the city’s wounds—strained, wary, untrusting.
Fear had taken root in those first chaotic days, but it was the funeral on the bridge that had buried any fleeting hope of peace. Whatever fragile truce had flickered between the cities was dead only days later. Old resentments had resurfaced like festering wounds, and Piltover and the Undercity had resumed their long-standing hostility as if it had never been interrupted.
The emergency council had been formed in response, each fallen member’s clan sending a representative to fill the seats. Caitlyn had made her own decision then, relinquishing her family’s claim to a council seat—on one condition. Someone from the Undercity would take her place. Mel had helped push the motion through, and Caitlyn had hoped, perhaps naively, that the people of the Undercity would elect Ekko.
Instead, they chose Sevika.
Regret burned in her chest at the memory of the woman taking her mother’s seat. Silco’s former right hand, a woman Caitlyn had fought against on multiple occasions. She didn’t trust her, but she couldn’t deny that Sevika had done more to ease the unrest in the Lanes than anyone else. She pushed for aid, for resources, for self-sufficiency. It wasn’t kindness—it was pragmatism. Vi had been livid, but even she had held her tongue, at least for now.
As Caitlyn continued her walk, she caught the stares.
Anger. Contempt. Blame.
People turned away when she passed, whispering behind their hands. Some barely concealed their disgust, others met her eyes with open resentment. They blamed her for helping Ambessa Medarda establish her forces in Piltover. Most knew she’d been manipulated, but it didn’t matter.
Jayce was dead. Mel had returned to Noxus. And Caitlyn was the only one left standing.
The Undercity's hatred cut deeper. The name Kiramman had become synonymous with oppression—the enforcer who had ordered raids, blockades, curfews, and mass arrests. A name that had become just another boot pressed down on their necks.
Guilt gnawed at her.
She had become an enforcer to help people, to protect the city—to bridge the gap between Piltover and the Undercity. But in the end, she had done what so many before her had done. She had enforced suffering in the name of order.
Her thoughts pulled her back to the present as she neared the Hexgate, and there, standing tall at the heart of the city, was the bronze statue.
Jayce Talis.
Hammer in hand, head held high, watching over Piltover like a silent guardian.
She stepped closer. The plaque at the base read:
The Man of Tomorrow. Inventor of Hextech. Defender of the City of Progress.
Caitlyn traced the name with her eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. She wondered—if Jayce and Mel had never returned, if she had been left to handle Ambessa’s attack alone, would she have been able to unite the cities? Would she have led them to victory?
She already knew the answer.
A child passing by caught sight of her and immediately shrank behind their mother’s skirt. The woman clutched the child close and hurried away.
Caitlyn swallowed down the lump in her throat and turned toward the station.
The last three months had been spent cleaning up the wreckage of her own choices. Leaving Piltover with Vi and never looking back had been a tempting thought, but not yet. Not until she finished what needed to be done.
First, she had stepped away from the council. It hadn’t gone as she hoped, but the decision had been made.
Second, she had torn apart the enforcers from the inside out.
When Mel assumed control of the Medarda war band and withdrew her mother’s forces from Piltover, Caitlyn had been horrified by how deeply they had infiltrated the enforcer ranks. The force had not only been riddled with corruption but had, for years, operated as a standing army against Piltover’s own people. And worse—foreign agents, spies, and traitors had been woven into its structure like a cancer.
Maddie’s betrayal still made Caitlyn’s stomach churn. She had trusted the woman—let her get close. And all along, she had been a snake coiling around Caitlyn’s throat.
So, Caitlyn had proposed reform.
A full-scale restructuring—downsizing the force, rigorous vetting, allowing recruits from the Undercity. The enforcers would no longer be a force of oppression. They would be Wardens. Guardians, peacekeepers, protectors. Not enforcers of law, but watchers of justice.
It had been a battle to push through, but with the backing of Councilor Shoola and Medarda, it had passed. And tonight, they would make the announcement.
There had been a time when Caitlyn would have leapt at the chance to lead such an organization. To finally do some real good.
Now, she knew better.
The station was alive with motion as Caitlyn stepped through the doors.
People hurried back and forth, files in hand, uniforms crisp, voices raised in conversation. Reports were filed, orders given, and desks cluttered with papers. The chaos was familiar.
She didn’t stop. Weaving through the main floor, she took the stairs two at a time, making her way up to the third floor where she had claimed an office for the time being.
Waiting outside her door was Den, the station archivist.
A young woman, dressed in a khaki skirt, red blouse, and green vest, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Large round glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, her eyes sharp with intelligence. A recent academy graduate, Caitlyn had hired her for her sharp mind and relentless curiosity.
“Tea and cookies to go with your reports, ma’am?” Den teased, her tone light.
Caitlyn exhaled a quiet laugh. “Black leaf brew, inspector. And they’re biscuits.”
Den grinned. “Of course, ma’am.”
“Den, do you have the dossiers for the last batch of applicants?” Caitlyn asked as she pushed open the office door.
The archivist nodded, motioning toward the desk. “Right there. Organized from least to most interesting. Corina and Zayne show the most promise.” A playful note entered her voice.
Caitlyn gave her a dry look. “Thank you. I’ll take your consideration into account.” She shifted her gaze toward the stack of files and let out a slow breath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
Den held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll be right back with your tea and biscuits.”
Caitlyn sighed as the girl disappeared.
The reports sat in a neat pile on her desk, waiting. She stared at them for a long moment before picking up the first dossier.
Soon, it will be over.
She let the words settle in her mind, repeating them like a quiet mantra.
And then, she started reading.