Through the Frozen Gardens

by CloudsandCrescents

Summary:

Runeterra had not seen flowers in hundreds of years.

Violet has seen them just about every night in her dreams. Caitlyn is haunted by them constantly in her nightmares. Neither of them have seen flowers but they are the only souls able to smell them.

When an orphaned alpha of Zaun and an omega princess of Piltover finally cross paths, fate challenges them to deny what was meant to be and the calling they were meant to serve.

Notes:

Okay so this is my very first fic for this fandom as I’m very new to it but I’ve been dying to write for it ever since. This idea came to me so clear and vividly and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it so now I’ve got another WIP to add to my already growing list.🥲

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this brief first chapter.🩵

Chapter 1: Violet

I

 

Twelve Years Earlier - The Mountains of Zaun

 

 

The journey had been harsh but she'd been determined to prove that she could keep up. Even with the two of them, she refused to endure the embarrassment of being carried.

 

She wouldn't be a pup forever.

 

Snow fell freely, landing thick and heavy on her lashes and chilling her to her core until her teeth rattled. She'd tried to quiet her tremors, a fruitless endeavor really. Her mother could always tell and, even now, she moved to sink into the snow behind her, pulling her back into her arm's warmth. Scent lithe with the soft notes of cranberries and pine.

 

She'd know it anywhere and always.

 

"We're here," her mother's voice chimes in her ear.

 

But when she looks around, all Violet can see is snow. "There's n-nothing th-there," she murmurs through chittering teeth.

 

Fingers clasp around her own, imbued with a natural warmth that fills her own smaller ones. They'd forgone gloves but her mother ensured her that they wouldn't need them. Turns out she was right—she was always right.

 

"No, not with your eyes, my love," Felicia corrects her eldest daughter, guiding her small hands to rest above her heart. "Close your eyes." Groaning, Violet does as she's instructed, right eye peeling open to steal a peek, giggling as her mother laughs near her ear, her own hand covering Violet's eyes.

 

"Now then, breathe in slowly, then out. Don't open your eyes, trust your other senses. Your sense of smell is far better than mine was at your age," Felicia admits without bothering to mask her pride.

 

Suddenly, Violet doesn't feel so cold.

 

Cheeks flushed, she follows her mother's guidance and closes her eyes. Nose tilting to the sky. She sniffs once, then again—a pause and then a sneeze. "It's t-too cold."

 

"It's alright, Vi. Try again. You can do it. I know you can."

 

Blushing cheeks swell with air as her eyes wrench shut. "Not so tense, love. Relax. Breathe. Feel."

 

The words ghost against the shell of her ear as she exhales, shoulders growing slack. Again, Violet's nose lifts to catch a whiff of something—anything—that would shed light on why they traveled to the mountains just beyond Zaun's borders. Why'd they'd crept out of their warm yet sunken home under the sleepy golden stretch of dawn without a word to her father and sister.

 

Oh?

 

It's faint but there's a trace of something—foreign yet familiar. A scent from a dream that seemed to not recognize the confines of her mind. The wind ruffles her senses but she doesn't lose it. She turns right and then left, climbing up on her mother's shoulders that shake with the force of her laughter and yet still remain steady.

 

"Have you got something?"

 

"I smell…," Violet's eyes open, the burden of confusion heavy in her gray eyes as she slides from her mother's back, "Flowers."

 

Her answer seems to please her mother who smiles wide and nods. Yet, Violet remains perplexed. She shakes her head, fringes of pink hair moving ever so slightly beneath the snug fit of her snow-freckled cap, "But how? I've never smelled a flower before."

 

And it was true. Long before she was born and long before her mother and her mother's mother, flowers had already been long gone. Fruits and vegetables and herbs grew in abundance where the land could sustain them—but the flowers—they had been gone a long time.

 

Though the how remained unclear, the why regarding her mother's decision to bring her here felt far closer to her understanding. Her mother's eyes burrow into her own and she shivers. Not from the cold.

 

"Come here, sweetheart," Felicia beckons and Violet obliges with caution. Her mother sighs, taking her cheeks between her palms, lips twisting into a pitying smile. "You're special and don't even realize how special you are. These dreams that come to you, no one else has them. To be able to see and smell things that you've never experienced. No one else in Zaun can do these things. You have a gift, Violet."

 

Silvery eyes sparkle as they sink behind welling tears. Frigid fascination.

 

She hears her mother's words, can directly define what each word means alone. But together, they stir fear and curiosity. How could someone like her be special?

 

"Tell me," her mother pleads, "What do they look like? In your dreams, my sweet Violet, what flowers fill your mind's garden?"

 

Each time, it's been different. There are big flowers and little flowers. There are flowers with long limbs that seem to stretch out to welcome her and flowers that crouch low to the ground but still manage to smile at her. They're different shades, nature's most variegated color palette.

 

More often than not, she dreams of them and the dream is always the same. She wakes in a destitute stone building with paneless windows in a pile of ivory stones and tattered blue banners with streaks of gold too torn to decipher.

 

Everything around her is destroyed, the land singed with fire and ash and the scent of death. Somehow, she's miraculously unharmed. She runs away from the destruction, guided by a raven. When two legs aren't enough to keep up, she switches to four, wind ruffling through her fur.

 

The raven guides her through woods and across a frozen vale. Finally, they reach a massive wall that stretches endlessly from east to west with a set of gates with bars beautifully crafted in ice. They part for her but the raven does not join her. Alone, she passes through a frozen garden as the ice melts.

 

Flowers break free of their cold and solid prisons, reaching out and giggling and blushing with vibrant colors as she walks by. She smiles at them, intrigued, but there's a scent, light yet compelling that drags her deeper into the sea of flowers.

 

Stronger and stronger it grows but the walk is seemingly endless.

 

"Lay your head here."

 

"Stay and rest."

 

"Let me tend to you."

 

The flowers say these things to her, enticing. Ever so often, she would stop and try to smell one or two but it was always the same. The scents faint and lackluster against the elusive yet overwhelming one still calling to her.

 

Loneliness begins to shadow her. Restless and irate she grows, snapping her jaws at the hearty trees and bushes that tell her she won't find what she's looking for. That she’s doomed to roam endlessly and alone for eternity.

 

Bleakness swells like an inferno and she nearly thinks of giving up, not wanting to fall into the preventable madness brought on by solitude. But then she hears it. A whimper, soft but clear. Instinct drives her towards it with renewed vigor.

 

Then suddenly, that scent returns in full force. It approaches swiftly, accompanied by the trotting of paw pads ascending upon her. Louder they grow until, finally, Violet reaches a fence. Barbed and thick with climbing pillows of green. The scent peaks at the fence where Violet spots the deep blue flowers that shy under her gaze.

 

The whimpering stops but she still hears the other set of paws on the other side. Pacing. Nose to the ground, she follows the fence until she notices the wires unraveling. Green leaves hiding more of the intoxicating blue petals. Driven by something internal, she digs at the base of the fences break.

 

She leans in, nose parting dense leaves and pauses when a damp nose, dark as coal presses against her own. Through the leaves, she sees them, two of the most vibrant blue eyes she’s ever seen peering back at her.

 

And then, the dream ends. Always the same. Always accompanied by the scent of a single flower that the raven had cawed to her.

 

"Jasmine," Violet puffs the word into the cool air.

 

Her mother's hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb gently brushing away the single tear that she hadn't noticed had fallen.

 

Morning had begun to creep over the horizon by the time they descended the mountain, the snow no longer falling. Despite her protests, her mother carried her to their home, stroking her back and singing her little songs.

 

Hat is plucked from her head and other winter clothes are shed. It's hardly more than a few steps to the room she shared with her little sister but her mother seems content on carrying her anyway.

 

There's no complaint on either side. With care, she's tenderly tucked into bed, a kiss pressed to her forehead. Her eyes are closed but she can tell that her mother still lingers in the room.

 

Warm and watching.

 

A mother.

 

A different kind of flower.

Chapter 2: Caitlyn

Notes:

Long overdue. Been wanting to update this for a while but haven’t quite had the time. Anyways, here we get a brief glimpse of Caitlyn’s world before things change. Enjoy!

II

 

Twelve Years Earlier - East Piltover - The Kiramman Manor

 

She hears the footsteps before they arrive, smells the preening essence of a boy growing into his own to become a man underlined with a hint of something warm. Something… familiar. Something safe.

 

"I thought I might find you here," Jayce notes, looking impossibly foolish with his broad shoulders and bulking frame as he joins her beneath the sturdy polished mahogany executive desk in the rear of the library. "New digs, huh? A little cramped but not bad. I'm thinking we add a window and a few plants and you've got yourself a decent home here, Sprout."

 

"Shut up," Caitlyn murmurs, burying any trace of a smile into her arms as she turns away and tugs her knees in closer to her chest.

 

They sit for a moment, silent but not uncomfortable. But nothing peaceful ever lasted around here, always interrupted by some more important yet somehow equally irremarkable thing. By now, though, Jayce had learned that he didn't need to sugarcoat things with her. Even at the tender age of nine, Caitlyn's instincts were keen.

 

"Your parents are looking for you…"

 

Caitlyn bites her lip, not with the intent to do so roughly, but it draws blood all the same. Dull and coppery as it blends into the diminishing taste of mint from when she'd brushed her teeth nearly an hour ago. She'd taken off the second she'd finished, gown fluttering at her ankles with its lacy lavender frills as she searched for a place to hide.

 

"Cait."

 

"I heard you," she answers, soft with a light quiver of unease, "What does it matter? They’ll find me anyway."

 

"So then why are you making this difficult? Every night it's this same song and dance with you. Aren't you tir—"

 

"Of course I'm tired!"

 

She sets her eyes on him finally, burdened with tears and tinged with burning exhaustion. Jayce doesn't flinch or pull away, he merely watches her, observes her with pity. As if, in his newfound growth, he was a man watching a child throw a tantrum. As if she'd brought this upon herself.

 

It's the absence of sleep, she knows this. He knows it too but he doesn't understand. No one understands. They all think she's being deliberately defiant. They tuck her into bed and wait a moment, perhaps two, before they shut her in her room and tell her to count sheep or think of sweets or whatever other frivolous nonsense that children do to help them sleep.

 

As if her inability to sleep through the night was due to a lack of will or, as her mother would argue, a lack of obedience and not the entirely unprovoked torment that it was.

 

She doesn't realize she's shaking until Jayce's hand rests on her back. Strong and still against her vibrating form. "I try," she croaks, nails pressing into the skin of her folded arms, "I swear, I do but…it's always the same. Every night, it's the same nightmare. Everything is on fire, everything is dying."

 

"Hey, breathe."

 

"What if something's wrong with—"

 

"Nothing's wrong with you, Cait," he assures her swiftly, "You're young but you've already got so much on your plate. With the world on the verge of collapse, your mom has been busier and you're her only heir. Naturally, a lot of responsibility will fall on your shoulders but you're not alone. Right now, we want you to focus on enjoying your childhood. Leave that stressing stuff to us grownups."

 

Caitlyn scoffs, the moment of kinship now diminished. "Oh, so it's 'us grownups' now?"

 

At that, Jayce chuckles, ruffling her hair, "You know what I mean. I presented a few days ago—late as hell for an alpha—but everyone's already begun treating me differently. I'm someone important now."

 

"You were always important to me. You're my brother."

 

"You're important to me too, Sprout," he confesses with ease, "But who are we fooling? I'm here because your parents gave me a shot when no one else would. You're my sister but I'm no Kiramman. That's your family. Your namesake. Your legacy. Here, I'm just a misfit."

 

Caitlyn contemplates the word. Letting it live on her tongue for a moment before she presses it to the roof of her mouth and then swallows it down. "My parents don't get me. They'd lock me in my room forever to keep me from going out there. I'm a prisoner in my own home. So, I'm a misfit too, I suppose."

 

They share a look and then a laugh. Finally, she lets the mask fall for just a moment, leaning her head on his shoulder, admitting with a gentle honesty, "I don't want you to move out. If you go, I'll be alone. When I do sleep, it's easier after I talk to you."

 

"I'll only be a few blocks down the road and I'll come see you everyday if that's what it takes to help. Just," he sighs, rubbing at the dark whiskers that had begun to spring along his chin and jaw, "Your parents think it would be best if I moved out now. Before the, you know, kicks in. It'll be any day now that I stopped taking the suppresants."

 

Caitlyn's face scrunches, "You don't have to talk that way about it. I know what a rut is. And besides, you're my brother. You're not a threat to me."

 

"No," he starts with a chuckle, "But there are lots of good looking omegas in your parents employ so best to send—wait, hold on—you're not old enough to know what that is!"

 

"That's not the point, idiot!"

 

They share another look, laughs bursting their lips at the seams. Goddess, was she going to miss this. Even with their age difference, they got along remarkably well. He took his role as her big brother seriously but respected her intelligence and maturity. Never talking down to her or treating her like the shiny, fragile thing they often assumed of Piltovian elite young girls.

 

Jayce checks his watch and Caitlyn's mood sours.

 

"I'm sorry, Sprout."

 

"Caitlyn!"

 

"Sweetheart!"

 

The twin greetings sound just as Jayce pulls her from under the desk to stand. Her father pulls her into his arms, cradling her as she shoots Jayce a dirty look over his shoulder when he begins to snicker and call her a daddy's girl.

 

She wasn't, for the record, her father was simply the least overbearing.

 

"Jayce, it appears you've found Caitlyn, again. A rather unusual talent of yours," comes her mother's disproving voice.

 

"Now now, dear, we asked him to help us find her," her father begins, giving Jayce a pointed but appreciative look, "Caitlyn has always been the wanderer and I don't suspect that will change anytime soon. However, it's well past your bedtime, darling. You need your rest."

 

She doesn't get a say in the matter, not that she'd expected to anyway. Jayce gives her a wave and soft smile as her father follows after her mother, still carrying her, as they draw closer to her room.

 

Carefully, she's lowered into bed, duvet tucked under her chin. The steady hand of her father brushes the hair from her face, a lingering kiss pressed upon her forehead. "Goodnight, Cait-darling."

 

He gives her mother a knowing look before leaving the two alone. Caitlyn watches as her mother rounds her much too large bed, holding the bottom of her robe as she sits beside her.

 

Neither speak for a moment but her mother's eyes linger on her before, with a heavy sigh, she presses a hand to her cheek. A rare touch that Caitlyn welcomes, releasing her own held breath as a thumb brushes her cheek.

 

"These dreams of yours," comes her mother's quaint voice, "Tell me about them."

 

The hand is gone and she misses the contact immediately. "They aren't dreams," she corrects in a hushed voice, "They're nightmares. I wake up in my bed but the manor is empty. I can't find you or father or Jayce or anyone. I walk outside but I'm not in Piltover. There's only a burning wasteland and when I step out, the manor crumbles. I'm holding a gun as I walk towards the fire and the sky is black with smoke. It burns my lungs and makes my eyes water. It's…suffocating."

 

Fingers move to her shoulder, giving a careful squeeze. A silent nudge to keep going.

 

"Finally, I reach the end and there's a stream. My gun is gone and when I look at my reflection in the rippling water, I'm covered in fur, dark and I'm on all fours. I drink from it and cross, reaching a tall and endless wall. It's made of obsidian and wrought with thorns. There's an eagle perched upon the top, screeching at me. The thorns unravel and I go inside. And then, I see them."

 

"See what, Caitlyn?"

 

Head rolling along the pillow, she looks up at her mother and answers, "Flowers. Like the ones from the stories father tells me. It's a garden but…everything is dying. They're all screaming and shouting at me. They tell me to leave but I don't. I can't."

 

She pauses a moment before adding, "I can smell something. The other flowers spit and scratch at me, making me bleed. But, there's a scent of a single flower, as if it's calling to me. I follow it and rush through and the sky begins to fill with smoke again. It shrouds everything and disorients me. I lose the scent but then I hear whimpering. I follow the sound and it guides me through the burning around me until I reach a fence. It's decorated in beautiful purple flowers. The smell is stronger there and I hear pawsteps like mine on the other side."

 

"What then?"

 

Attention turning to the roof of her bed, Caitlyn blinks once and then again. "The fire closes in. It's hot and I can feel it beginning to burn me. I scratch at the dirt with my claws, and find where the earth is weakest. It gives way to an opening draped in vines and more of those flowers. Violets—the eagle had told me. I press my head through and a nose presses against my own. And there, staring back at me, are two silver eyes like a winter's sky. I burn then and wake up screaming. Every time."

 

Silence hangs in the space between them. Caitlyn, finally granted the opportunity to expel the peculiarity from her mind, waits for something comforting to leave her mother's lips. A word of advice or support, an interpretation as to what it all means.

 

Instead, the bed creaks as her mother rises. The cool back of her hand lingers against Caitlyn's forehead before pulling away. Her slippers glide against the white marbled floors as she rounds the canopy bed and comes to rest at the door.

 

"I'll arrange for a psychiatrist to come by tomorrow evening. Goodnight, Caitlyn."

 

Beneath the sheets, small fists clench tightly. She lies there, waiting until her mothers steps fade to nothingness before allowing the first tear to fall.

 

"I'm not crazy," she whispers, repeating it until it begins to sound like the truth.

Notes:

Thank you for taking a chance on my first fic for this fandom! I do my best to update as much as I can but my schedule can be rather unpredictable. That said, we’ve got a long weekend so I’m aiming for weekly updates but will shoot for another update this weekend since I’ve got an extra day off work coming up. Hope you enjoyed and see you in the next update!