#mel medarda i will protect you

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Mel and Viktor being drawn to each other but repelling each other at the same time... Ughhh you know I critique the fuck out of the writing sometimes but someone COOKED HERE

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Mel holding Viktor's cane while she promises to protect Hextech

I won't let them corrupt your dream

[srslylini]

the day people stop using good luck, babe for their stupid non canon MLM ships to get rid of the WOMEN

that's the day I'll find comfort and rest

[linddzz]

Hello, I wanted to ask you a question since I love the way you answer. The other day I saw a discussion that was generated by the scene in the council of Jayce and Mel in chapter 8 and many of them did not understand Jayce's reaction (they basically destroyed him). I particularly understand, and other people do, that Jayce is acting according to the consequences of the trauma he lived in the other dimension (obviously it does not justify the mistreatment). I think that he is carrying a lot of guilt and pain for his past actions, and he needs to unload that. In addition to that in the case with Mel, their intimate bond is broken by the manipulation he suffered from her (although he also had his things). But people say that he is an exaggerator, an impulsive fool, Mel also went through horrible situations (I do not deny it) and yet she did not treat him badly at that time. Well, I would like to know your opinion regarding this scene that generates debate.

It is always wild to me when I hear of or see glimpses of Arcane discourse that can be summed up with "we missed the point of the show that's heavily themed on how trauma and emotional upheaval can cause people to act in ways we may not agree with, but can understand" :)))

Also wild that people expect Jayce to be perfectly rational and emotionally competent here after we just saw him staggering around Viktor's commune with terrifying hallucinations, screaming as he blasts a hole in Viktor's chest. Not to mention that we just saw the actual hell he went through that left him in that state?? Is Jayce, who has shown that he reacts with brash anger when he's frightened and in over his head, maybe going to not be the most level headed??

One thing that I really like about the scene is that he DOES apologize to Mel afterwards. He recognizes that he acted out, apologizes for being an asshole, and recognizes that Mel is hurting as well. Yeah his actions weren't great (tho to me seeing him acting physically aggressive was another sign of just how fucked up Jayce was) but damn in the context of how everyone else in this show responds to emotional trauma, he's pretty mild.

I'll also argue that neither of them are wrong in this scene, and you can pretty clearly see why he escalated so quick. Even without an in depth analysis that looks further back, his reactions are pretty understandable (for said analysis, @avelera has some great posts on this as a breakup scene for Jayce and Mel, pointing out that his auditory flashbacks in the pit focused a lot on realizing that Mel was using them) Let's break it down:

Scene opens with Jayce already reminiscing on the traumatic event that started all this. He's standing in the place where Viktor died, where Jayce made the decisions that created whatever Viktor is now. When you rewatch it, you have the added context that he's likely grappling with what Mage Viktor has told him. It's important to note that at this point, he doesn't know that Mel has arcane powers until his hammer and arcane corrupted mind spidey-sense her arrival.

We already know he was dealing with a ton of survivors guilt for being untouched by the blast while everyone else was grievously injured, and while Viktor specifically mortally wounded. This is probably the worst place and the worst time for him to learn that Mel has arcane powers and that she's the reason they were unharmed. And that sucks. Because he's closing Mel off even harder than he already would have, while he's the one Mel learned to be more emotionally vulnerable with.

Something happened to her too, and she reaches out for that connection. She doesn't need to be a strong Noxian with Jayce, so she tries to connect on the fact that they both obviously went through something, but unfortunately it's just when he thinks his worst suspicions about her are confirmed. 

Because hey let's ALSO talk about Jayce realizing Mel has been using him and why he's gonna take that hard! Jayce is pretty obviously a romantic person in season 1. It's almost a comedy beat when he snuggles up in her lap and she looks startled with the realization that her boytoy is a puppy. That is so obviously a lad who does not see sex as something casual, and he's very emotionally vulnerable with Mel very quickly.

Now, we, the viewers, have been able to see Mel allowing herself more vulnerability with Jayce in return. We've seen that she views her political manipulation as a way to benefit everyone. We've seen that she really came to care about Jayce, that sleeping with him became more than another way to influence him. But Jayce has only now realized he WAS being used. Who WOULD respond nicely to that? 

So you have that, on top of suddenly learning there is a reason he was fine while Viktor wasn't. Yes it's unfair to immediately blame her for it, but as soon as he says "because you used me!" I had a moment of "OH...yeah actually he's right tho. he's not out of pocket there"

(Also we can see him shutting that emotional vulnerability down. He tells Mel "it doesn't matter" because he's seen how his openness with her made him easy to manipulate. Again, she has opened herself up in return, but he has no way of knowing how much was sincere or not and is in no state to be rational about any of it.)

It doesn't help that she pretty much confirms that she used him. To Mel, it's not an insult to be seen as an investment by her, so she justifies herself for it, and I'm gonna read her a bit for this; when someone is feeling some sort of way about being used as an investment, explaining why they were a great investment isn't the best move!

And then. Yaknow. His brain is all jacked up from Arcane corruption and he's got Mel already setting that off with her powers, then Viktor's making them go extra wild by creeping around with his freaky little cuntbot. I didn't like him getting physically intimidating but it's also pretty obvious that he was seeing her as an active threat until Viktor showed up.

And again. He pretty quickly apologized and gave her an opening to talk about what happened to her. It's not perfect, but no one on this show IS. That's the point of the show! The fact that he quickly apologizes both times we see him lash out at people he cares about shows a pretty substantial amount of emotional intelligence in comparison to everyone else in this "Hurt People Hurt People" show.

So. yeah. I also had the emotional journey of "hey Jayce that's not fair, she pretty obviously said she couldn't control it, what the hell are you stalking at her with that hammer for- OH. I mean. YEAH she did use you that....hey that part's fair...also Mel back up girl, he's super obviously Not Okay." But I think acting like Jayce is some sort of unique asshole in THIS SHOW is quite a stretch.

[jayktoralldaylong]

"If gender roles were swapped, you guys would acknowledge Mel's manipulation."

I mean, I've been saying that since Season one, but some people want to argue that Jayce was not forced into anything (As if that's not how manipulation works.) Sure doesn't help that she's older.

"She used him!"

Okay, hold it right there. 😌 I didn't fight this hard to prove Jayce's innocence so that you guys can demonise Mel. She's a product of her upbringing, okay? Her mother, bless her heart, sucks with love. Controlling Jayce was what Mel thought would keep him safe from harm, and it did help his business flourish...at the cost of his morals.

And the scene where Jayce argues with her in Season 2, everyone keeps misinterpreting what was happening there.

He's not upset cause he got manipulated (okay he's partly upset about that) but he's more upset that she saved him. So he's trying to figure out.....why? Why him? If he was truly nothing more than a tool, then why had she saved him? What was he to her? What more did she want from him?

"You used me AND Viktor." Is not him saying she doesn't care, but he's asking why he was prioritsed over Viktor, when he cannot function without his partner. If she really wanted to keep using them, then why had she not saved Viktor? Or had she thought he was the only one worth keeping?

As much as I love the scene that came right after that, I really wished they'd finished their conversation. Cause Jayce just pushed it aside and focused on what he had to do to save Viktor now, and it was like they just let the entire conversation drop.

He felt so confused and unsure and traumatised. And I feel sorry for him.

[bean-spring]

People complaining about Mel not liking Viktor and being "mean" to him as if this guy didn't hate her guts too and wasn't constantly rolling his eyes every time she opened her mouth.

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

Stop being like "Mel is going to die in the second act", cause if anything happens to my baby i will held you personally accountable for it. Hope that helps.

[literaryspinster]

More Thoughts on Meljay and Fandom

I think I can live with Meljay technically being a rarepair. There are so many dumb, asinine, based on little to nothing takes about them that it’s hard to really take any of the backlash seriously (the way they misread the balcony scene alone is enough to make me want to violently facepalm). In fact I think going in expecting to be underwhelmed is partially why I ended up being so damn invested, so thanks to the haterade brigade I guess?

Also, the small but incredibly wise and thoughtful Meljay fandom are the most consistent fans to genuinely like and appreciate both characters and make genuine attempts to understand them, whereas their haters tend to aggressively hate one or the other and mischaracterize them wildly, flattening their characters in sometimes deeply sexist and racist ways.

Seriously their versions of these characters are so much more boring and one note than what’s presented onscreen, at least from my galaxybrained perspective. Badass girlboss Mel who only cares about power and money and will shamelessly use her body as well as anyone in her path to get it, and weak-willed himbo failking Jayce who wouldn’t even be able to tie his shoes without help in spite of being a whole scientist are caricatures of them at best. I’m sorry but you’re watching it wrong. Try again and pay attention this time.

I don’t feel comfortable at all interacting with the larger fandom and I really hope they know that. The only other thing I hope (and considering how much goes into an animated series and how much of the show was planned ahead of time, this doesn’t seem super likely) the show doesn’t decide to change whatever their path might be to suit rabid shippers. I also hope that more Black women watch Arcane in the future because they’re so needed in this community.

[cl-0v3r]

Mel is alive, but at what cost

Mel was nearly killed TWICE, her mother began being a struggle, she'd been thrown aside and trying her best to stop her, her boyfriend is not doing well, neither is anyone else (can't blame them) and the fact that she hadn't cried or spoke much about this situation to anyone a single time?? She IS upset about every single thing, yet she stays strong and enduring every bit of torture. The most she did was tell Jayce that Ambessa put her palm on the table, and let him know that she is going to push for hextech. That's it, nothing remotely related to her feelings.

The fact that she was constantly looking at Caitlyn, being able to understand her grief and knew she was in pain?? Mel knows this feeling. She'd went through it.

And in the end SHE has to pay the price of her mothers incompetence.

The intro is very much foreshadowing, we know the hands represent black rose/LeBlanc.

This is what happens in act one, she gets kidnapped by them. The lyrics do correspond to the characters as well (not just Mel, everyone.)

"Tell you you're the greatest" plays as a petal of the black rose floats down the screen, I think it adds significance to the power this organization holds, possibly the Medardas greatest foe.

"But once you turn, they hate us" both Ambessa and Mel were present in this line, I think its foreshadowing for when Ambessa switches up for whatever reason and goes against both Piltover AND Zaun. And Mel WILL go through change as well, a change that could hurt her relationship with others, and receive interest from others too.

"They hate us" could be read individually too, I feel like its a sort of "realization" ?? Perhaps Ambessa WASN'T the one that switched up, maybe Piltover switched up on them, and maybe Mel JUST got out of wherever she's taken to, and saw the mess Ambessa had done to her city??

I think this represents ACT TWO.

The hands pull away and it sort of looks like Mel is fighting back, a "get away from me" type of scream. you know what this reminds me of??

Don't mind me just pushing my Jinx/powder-Mel parallel agenda

Here is when i think Mel truly learns about LeBlanc/BR, she curiously and slowly goes to grab the rose, she learns about the history between her Mother and them, Kinos death, and most of all, learns about HERSELF. The lyrics speak otherwise.

"Pray away, I swear

I'll never be a saint, no way"

This feels like a parallel to caitlyn of sorts if that makes sense. Caitlyn had done everything to try and stop the council from attacking the Undercity, she kept her mouth shut when Jayce asked about Jinxs grenade, she was willing to protect Vi and the undercity, but how many times has she been tossed around? She'd been burned, exploded, kidnapped (god knows what happened during that time) and hit in the face by the same person, her MOTHER died because of the same person. She has every right to go insane. And she is hunting ONE person, which is Jinx. Although she is harming the people around her along the way.

What if Mel goes through a similar situation? Her mother pushed for war in her city, she dragged the enemy along with her even if she didn't mean to, she manipulated everyone around her INCLUDING Jayce, she LITERALLY got Mel hurt from the chembarons attack and killed so many people during a MEMORIAL to get her hextech weapons, Elora is most likely DEAD, not to mention whatever happened in the past between them. And the thing is, this will NEVER end throughout the entire season.

And what if she learns what she is? That she's 'blessed' by Kindred? The fact that the wolf is quite literally in her blood?

I feel like the "ill never be a saint, no way" also sort of indicates Mel will realize she'll never be able to push for peace and mercy like she always hoped for no matter what, and she comes to accept that as much as it hurts. But not like how ambessa accepted the wolf, but she sort of realizes she needs to push a little violence, towards nobody but the one and only, Ambessa "fine, if you want me to be like you, I guess I'll be like you towards YOU." Type of acceptance.

I think its also related to Mels new outfit too, she's dressed like her mother, in red and all of that. I will still stand by the idea that she has plans to decieve, but she will do something she doesn't want to do.

Mel was left with no choice, that lyric sounds like realization, acceptance, but also like a plea at the same time, an "I'll never be who I wanted to be" because in the end, she's still a Medarda, she's still her mothers daughter, she still has violence in her veins, she will never not suffer from the weight her name holds, and she will never escape it either, its like a shadow.

The Characters won't be themselves at their core this season. And those vital parts of their characters that represent them are no longer there in the intro, they all have given up what makes them, THEM design wise. (e.g.) Vi without her tattoo, Viktor hiding his identity with the mask. And the thing is, they did that to themselves because they do self-harm, they're changing themselves because THEY want to, they're forcing themselves to do that, they think they're undeserving and they're erasing their past selves.

But Mel? Mel doesn't have her gold accessories, Jewelry, or her Armor, she'd been stripped bare and hidden away because of the brutality of her name. She pays the price her mother brought to HER city. She's forced to change herself against her will, because nobody is giving her a chance to push for her ideals.

This entire theory never ends, and with all of this? I kinda do see Mel actually committing Matricide, it lifts the "Ambessa will die" theory further.

[catiroll]

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ

Ambessa Medarda x Personal Assistant Reader

Synopsis: Her protective and possessive side shows when you want to leave her side. A/N: Contains possessive behavior, Manipulation, Power dynamic, Alittle sexual tension. also hint of yandere behavoir. Reader is younger than her

You had always been more than just a tailor to Ambessa. From the very first time you entered her life, you had become something irreplaceable—not only to her but to her daughter Mel as well.

You weren’t as young as Mel, but you were closer to her age than Ambessa’s, a few years older, just enough to serve as a bridge between the ferocity of bessa and the fragility of Mel’s youthful spirit. Your bond with Mel had always been gentle—nurturing, protective, and maternal in a way that Ambessa was never able to provide. While Ambessa’s presence in Mel’s life was powerful, intimidating, and sometimes suffocating, you had quietly stood in the background, a safe haven when Mel needed someone to lean on.

You were the one who had whispered to her when she was struggling with a design, the one who had reassured her when her dreams seemed too big for this world. You were there on the days when Mel couldn’t approach her mother, when Ambessa’s fierce nature pushed her too far away, leaving Mel to retreat into herself.

Your relationship with Ambessa, however, was a different matter entirely. You were more than just a confidante, more than someone who crafted her most beautiful and lethal designs—you were her family, her trusted ally. You’d stood by her side for years, helping to shape her image and her empire, and over time, you’d become as indispensable to her as she was to you.

But it was your role as a mother figure to Mel that set you apart, the one thing that had always been a subtle thorn in Ambessa’s side. She had never let anyone get too close to her daughter, never trusted anyone with Mel in quite the same way. Yet, somehow, you had slipped through the cracks. You had earned that trust—not with grand gestures or fiery speeches, but with quiet devotion and years of loyalty.

For years, you had been a constant in both their lives, a silent protector for Mel and a quiet but irreplaceable ally for bessa. It was a delicate balance, one that you had always maintained without truly questioning it. But lately, something had shifted. You could feel it—a slow burn building under the surface, a need to break free and see what else the world had to offer.

It was a late afternoon when bessa arrived for a fitting. She walked into your studio with the same imposing presence she always carried, her steps measured, her eyes sharp. Yet today, something about her demeanor was different, more tense, as if the usual calm confidence she exuded was laced with something unspoken.

she reached for the fabric you were smoothing over her body. She didn’t speak immediately but instead let the moment stretch, her eyes watching your hands. Ambessa’s gaze softened, and a faint smile tugged at her lips.

You were adjusting the hem of one of her gowns when she spoke, her voice breaking the silence in a way that caught your attention.

"You have such gentle hands," she said, her voice unexpectedly tender. "I love how your smaller hands mold the fabric to me... it’s like you’re shaping not just the gown, but something deeper. Your touch is... different. It’s like you hold the power, even in these delicate movements."

You froze, momentarily caught off guard by the praise. It felt heavier than usual, as though her words weren’t just about your skill with fabric, but something more personal. The sensation of her words lingered in the air, and you felt the weight of the trust she placed in you.

"…although, You’ve been distant lately," she said, her tone casual, but there was an edge there. "What’s going on with you?"

Ambessa stepped a little closer as you continued to adjust the gown. Her muscles shifted beneath the fabric, and you couldn’t help but notice how the strength in her body contrasted with your own gentleness. Your fingers brushed lightly over her skin as you continued your work, but this time, the touch felt charged. You tried to block out the growing sense of desire, but her presence, her body, made it hard to focus. She was right—there was power in these small movements, in the way you shaped her, the way she allowed you to.

You straightened up, meeting her eyes. "Nothing," you replied easily, but your voice betrayed you. The exhaustion in your tone was unmistakable, something Ambessa always noticed. "Just... thinking."

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Thinking?" she repeated, as if the word itself didn’t quite fit. "About what?"

You set the fabric aside, your fingers brushing against the soft silk as you turned to face her fully. "About the future," you said, your voice steady despite the undercurrent of uncertainty within you. "I’ve been doing this for years, Ambessa. It’s not that I’m tired of it—it’s just... I’m starting to wonder if there’s more out there for me."

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving you. She was sharp, perceptive, and you knew the moment she realized what you were getting at. "More?" she echoed, her voice quiet but laced with something darker. "Are you saying you want to leave?"

You shook your head, trying to ease the tension. "No. I’m not saying that. I just..." You paused, trying to find the right words. "I want a new challenge. Something else to work toward. Something different."

"you sound like mel" she said faintly, more like she was saying it to herself. understanding this you ignore the comment.

Meeting the older women’s gaze you notice how she’s studying you with that sharp, calculating gaze. You could feel her eyes tracing the lines of your body, picking up every detail, every nuance in your behavior.

“What could you possibly need that I don’t already provide?" she asked, her tone suddenly sharp, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. Her eyes flickered with something that resembled anger—then something else, something harder, darker.

You met her gaze, unfazed by her sudden shift in attitude. "Nothing," you said, your voice even. "But I’m not just a tailor. I want to push myself further. Explore what else is out there."

Ambessa’s silence was thick, and you could feel her studying you, her calculating gaze boring into you as though trying to dissect the very essence of your words. "You’ve been with me for so long," she said slowly, each word heavy with meaning. "I’ve trusted you, depended on you. And now, you’re telling me you want more? What does that mean for us?"

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you turned back to the gown, letting the silence hang between you. The air felt thick now, the quiet oppressive, like the calm before a storm.

"You’re not going anywhere," Ambessa finally said, her voice a low growl, her presence more forceful now, as though trying to anchor you in place. "You belong here. You belong with me."

Her words rang out with an undeniable authority, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of them—the possessiveness in her voice, the unspoken claim she laid on you. It was a truth you had known for years: Ambessa didn’t take kindly to anyone she considered hers stepping away. You had become too entwined in her life, in her world, to simply walk away without consequence.

You tried to ease the tension, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I’m not leaving, Ambessa. I’m just... considering my options. It’s not about you. It’s about me."

Her gaze softened ever so slightly, but the tightness in her jaw remained. "I won’t let you go," she murmured, her words almost a promise. "You’ve been with me for too long. You’ve helped me build this. You are mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me."

You knew then, in that moment, that she wasn’t just talking about the work. She wasn’t just talking about the gowns you created for her. Ambessa was speaking of something deeper—something far more dangerous. She was speaking about possession.

You tried to ease the tension, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I’m not leaving, Ambessa. I’m just... considering my options. It’s not about you. It’s about me."

Ambessa’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but the tightness in her jaw remained. "I won’t let you go," she murmured, her words almost a promise. "You’ve been with me for too long. You’ve helped me build this. You are mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me."

Every glance, every word, felt weighted with something unspoken, a quiet understanding that things were changing. She could feel it, and so could you.

And so, when she invited you over for dinner that evening—an offer that had once been casual, familiar—you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. There was an unspoken challenge in the air, a game being played without either of you fully acknowledging it.

As you arrived at her estate, the familiar scents of cooking wafted through the air, but there was an unusual stillness to the house. Ambessa had already set the table, the atmosphere quieter than usual, and you could tell she was waiting for something—waiting for you to make a move, to finally say the words that had been hanging between you for days.

Dinner passed in relative silence, save for the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain. The food was delicious, as always, but there was something off about the whole evening, an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore. You felt it in the way Ambessa’s gaze lingered on you, how her eyes followed every movement you made. It was as though she was waiting for you to finally let the mask slip and reveal your true thoughts. But you weren’t ready to speak the words yet.

The silence stretched on, filling the space between you both, until the last plate was cleared. Ambessa’s voice broke the stillness again, her words carefully measured, but the sharpness in them was unmistakable.

"You still haven’t told me what this... new challenge of yours is," she said, her voice soft but edged with a possessiveness that sent a ripple of unease down your spine. She wasn’t asking out of curiosity anymore. She was testing you, trying to push you into revealing what had been hanging over you like a shadow.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers lightly tapping on the edge of your glass as you weighed your words. "I’ve been thinking of working with someone else. Maybe... someone who needs a new direction. Someone who needs my skills, my creativity. Something different."

Ambessa’s hand froze on her glass, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem. The subtle shift in her demeanor was enough to make your heart race. Her eyes, once warm and steady, were now colder, sharper, calculating. There was a moment where the world seemed to stop, where you could feel the pressure in the air growing heavier, as though she was waiting for something more, something she knew she might not like.

"What do you mean? Who is this ‘someone’?" she asked, her voice cold now, laced with a possessive edge. "Who else could possibly need you more than I do?"

You knew that the question wasn’t as much about the "someone" as it was about your answer. She wanted to know where your loyalty truly lay. The words hung in the air, and you found yourself considering just how much you were willing to reveal.

"I’m not sure yet," you said, your voice steady, but there was a subtle edge of defiance in it. "But I have to find out. For myself."

Ambessa’s gaze didn’t waver. Her eyes narrowed, and the familiar storm cloud you had been anticipating began to form behind her composed exterior. She leaned forward just a fraction, her gaze darkening. The silence between you now was thick and suffocating, and you could feel her struggle to maintain control.

A thought flitted through your mind—a fleeting image of someone who had been in touch with you recently, Cassandra Kirriman. You hadn’t spoken about it aloud, but the idea of working with her, moving to Piltover, was starting to seem more appealing. The prospect of a new challenge, a fresh environment, of doing something entirely different was becoming increasingly tempting. You hadn’t voiced it, but it had been there—something in the back of your mind. You didn’t have a specific person or place in mind, but Piltover… it felt like it could be the place where you could carve out a new path.

Ambessa’s sharp eyes caught the fleeting thought in your gaze, the shift in your posture. Her lips pressed together into a thin line. The quiet understanding between you felt like it was cracking.

She was aware of your connection with Cassandra, of course. You had kept it brief, but Ambessa, ever observant, had picked up on the mentions, the small exchanges between you and the Kirriman family. Piltover. The city that had lured her daughter away. The city that had taken what Ambessa had treasured most. That realization was the turning point, the unspoken truth that hit her like a wave.

But Ambessa didn’t say it aloud. She couldn’t bring herself to. Not in front of you. Not yet. The connection was too raw, too personal. Her daughter had left for Piltover, leaving Ambessa to wrestle with the hollow ache of abandonment, a feeling she hadn’t been able to name until now. And now, here you were, talking about leaving—not for another person or nation, but for Piltover. The idea twisted in her chest. She didn’t want to admit how it stung, how it felt like a betrayal of the same kind she had experienced years ago.

Her voice, though still soft, became more insistent. "If you leave me," she whispered, her words almost a warning, a final threat laced with the kind of sorrow that could only be felt by someone who had already been left behind once before, "I won’t let you go. I will make sure of it."

" we will see"

Masterlist

[chloe6994]

Arcane Headcanons: Mel, Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn Bandaging a Hurt Reader

Mel Medarda

Calm and Composed: When Mel finds you hurt, her face remains calm, but her golden eyes flash with worry. She doesn’t panic; instead, she swiftly gathers supplies, taking charge with her usual elegance.

Gentle Touch: She kneels beside you, her hands steady as she carefully cleans your wounds. Her touch is feather-light, ensuring she doesn’t hurt you more than necessary.

Reassuring Words: Mel speaks softly, her voice soothing as she reassures you. “You’re stronger than this wound, my love. Just hold on for me.” Her words feel like a warm embrace, steadying you.

Attention to Detail: Every movement is precise. She ties bandages with neat, perfect knots, making sure nothing is left untreated.

Comfort Aftercare: Once she’s finished, she pulls you close, draping a luxurious blanket over you both as she strokes your hair. She pours you a glass of water or wine and sits with you until you fall asleep, her presence unwavering.

Jinx

Panicked and Guilt-Ridden: Seeing you hurt sends Jinx spiraling into panic at first. She stares at the blood on your skin, her hands trembling as flashes of her past haunt her. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to let this happen!”

Frantic But Determined: Despite her anxiety, she grabs her makeshift medical kit (which probably has questionable supplies like duct tape and loose bandages). Her hands shake as she starts cleaning your wounds, muttering to herself about how she’ll “fix you.”

Protective Rambling: Jinx talks a mile a minute while she works. “Next time, we’re strapping you in full armor! Or bubble wrap! Yeah, bubble wrap! You’re not leaving my side again!” It’s her way of coping and trying to distract you from the pain.

Messy But Effective: The bandaging process might be chaotic—she ties the bandages a little too tightly or uses too much tape—but it’s full of love and determination. She won’t stop until she’s sure you’re safe.

Endearing Snuggles: Afterward, Jinx collapses beside you, clinging to you like a lifeline. She refuses to leave your side, even if she’s still buzzing with nervous energy. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again, okay? Promise?”

Vi

Focused and Protective: When Vi sees you hurt, her heart skips a beat, but she immediately goes into action. “Alright, sit tight. I’ve got you.” She carries you to a safe spot if needed, her grip firm but careful.

Skilled Hands: Growing up in the Lanes, Vi knows how to handle injuries. She cleans your wounds quickly but thoroughly, her hands practiced and efficient. “This’ll sting a bit. Hang in there, babe.”

Fierce Reassurance: She keeps talking to you the entire time, her voice steady and grounding. “You’re tougher than this. Just a scratch, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.”

Soft Side Shows: Despite her tough exterior, Vi’s hands soften when she ties the bandages, making sure they’re secure but not uncomfortable. She presses a kiss to your forehead once she’s done.

Protective Vow: After you’re patched up, she keeps an arm around you, her jaw clenched with determination. “No one’s laying a finger on you again. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

Caitlyn

Efficient and Professional: Years of training in the Enforcers have made Caitlyn incredibly skilled at first aid. The moment she sees you hurt, she moves quickly, her expression calm but her eyes filled with concern. “Let me take care of this.”

Tender Care: Caitlyn’s movements are precise yet gentle as she cleans and dresses your wounds. She talks to you softly, her accent making her reassurances even more comforting. “You’re doing so well, darling. Almost there.”

Problem Solver: She keeps the atmosphere light, offering logical solutions to distract you. “After this, we’re investing in better protection for you. Perhaps a personal shield? Or maybe I’ll just keep you in the precinct with me.”

Personal Touch: Once she’s done, Caitlyn makes you tea and insists you rest. She’ll sit beside you, her hand resting on yours, ensuring you feel safe. “You don’t have to be brave alone, you know. I’m here.”

Steadfast Companion: She checks your bandages regularly and doesn’t leave your side until she’s certain you’re recovering. If she’s working, she’ll send you frequent messages to make sure you’re okay.

Each of them brings their unique personality to the task, showing their love for you in their own way.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ you used to be alive, now you're almost mythic.

warlord!ambessa x dragon rider!f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: despite being arranged to marry your brother, ambessa chooses you as the next reigning consort of house medarda. in the wake of her assassination, you begin to unravel.

cw: dark content. please tread carefully. heavy angst, heavily inspired by house of the dragon but still understandable if you haven't watched it, warlord!ambessa, dragon rider!reader, consort!reader, arranged marriage, wife!ambessa, age difference, older woman/younger woman, non-graphic suicide, mental illness, grief, very morally grey characters including reader. notes: i'm in my luteal phase and began to rewatch hotd and this happened. you must suffer with me. i'm returning to my roots (grief and insane family/romantic dynamics). i wanted to explore the effects of ambessa's death on reader and what it means to love someone who is sometimes well-intentioned but almost always corrupted.

୨୧ you meet on a clouded day, you in your house's emerald silks that catch like seafoam in the bitter wind. ambessa towers over everyone else, battle-scarred and beautiful in ways that make your chest ache. she is supposed to wed your brother and you are meant to be afraid—this is the woman who burnt three kingdoms to ash, who feeds her enemies to her dragon. 

୨୧ instead, you find yourself fascinated by her hands, how carefully they hold the marriage contract as she chooses you instead.

୨୧ the rumors spread quickly: the gentle noble daughter and the warlord, what a terrible match. they whisper that she must be cruel to you behind closed doors. 

୨୧ they don't see how she braids your hair each morning, how she teaches you to wield a knife ("don't be stupid, [name]. you know who you've married. you are an easy target. you must not abide."), how she watches you with such careful control when you’re naked before her for the first time.

୨୧ her wedding gift to you is perfect. you and ithoa the dark are evenly matched—the dragon is massive and obsidian-scaled but gentle-hearted, prone to curling around you protectively during storms. ambessa jokes that you've made her soft.

୨୧ you remember your first flight together, how the wind tore the breath from your lungs and ambessa's hands steadied you, warm against your waist. 

୨୧ the first time you saw her truly fight, it was like watching a dance. she moved like water, like shadow, like death itself. afterward, when her enemies lay bleeding into the earth, she looked at you with such fear in her eyes—fear that you would finally see the monster everyone claimed her to be. and she was one, you weren’t blind, but she’s yours.

୨୧ in some ways you are worse than she is.

୨୧ you help clean her of blood and kiss each of her knuckles. you learn fealty tastes of copper and salt.  

୨୧ you wake sometimes to find her watching you in the dark, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin like she's memorizing you. "what are you thinking?" you ask, and she says, "that i never thought i could love something so much. it terrifies me."

୨୧ you understand—love like this is dangerous; it sent half your bloodline mad.  

୨୧ there are nights when the nightmares come, when she thrashes and calls out names of the dead. you learn to weather these storms, to hold her until she remembers where she is. you whisper against her temple, “bessa, come back to me." and she does, she always does.  

୨୧ "my advisors say i've grown weak," ambessa confesses one night, her head in your lap as you card fingers through her silver-streaked hair. "perhaps they are right."

୨୧ you think of how she still trains daily, how her enemies still fear her name, how she commands armies with an iron fist. but is she is weaker. she's learned to love too, to show mercy when warranted. you lie.

୨୧ you tell her, "you've only grown wise," and she kisses your palm like a benediction.  

୨୧ the politics grow more heated. you notice how mel watches her mother with increasing worry, how the peace treaties remain unsigned. you find ambessa in her war room late at night, maps spread before her, and you know what's coming. you love her enough to pretend you don't.

୨୧ you know something is wrong when ithoa screams. it's a sound you've never heard before, something ancient and terrible that makes your bones vibrate. you're running before you can think, your feet carrying you through corridors that seem to stretch endlessly.  

୨୧ you find her in the war room. there's a cup rolled beneath the table, a dark stain spreading across the maps she was studying. she looks peaceful, almost, except for the way her fingers are curled like claws against the floor. someone has closed her eyes. someone has touched her. someone has taken her from you.  

୨୧ your knees crack against the stone as you fall. there's a sound coming from your throat that doesn't sound human, a keening wail that matches ithoa's grief. you gather her into your arms—she's still warm, still soft, still smells like herself. 

୨୧ there is a constant ringing in your head.

୨୧ for one terrible moment, you look at mel standing in the doorway and your mouth forms around the word "dracarys." you feel the heat building in your chest, taste ash on your tongue. ithoa's answering roar shakes the castle foundations. it would be so easy—one word and everything burns.  

୨୧ but your father taught you mercy, didn't he? or maybe your mother did. taught you when to hold and when to release. 

୨୧ your mouth fills with blood from where you've bitten your tongue holding back that deadly word. mel's face is wet with tears as she falls to her knees beside you, reaching for her mother's other hand.  

୨୧ "i'm sorry," she sobs, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry." you want to tell her that sorry isn't enough, that you want to murder her with your own hands—no poison. instead, you keep screaming, high and shrill until your voice breaks, until guards have to pry you away, until they force dreamwine down your throat to quiet you.  

୨୧ the funeral is a blur of red and black, but you wear green still—your final act of defiance, of remaining true to yourself as she always wanted. ithoa's keening echoes across the kingdom, a sound of such profound grief that even the oldest dragons respond. she hasn't eaten since ambessa fell.  

୨୧ when mel approaches, you see the cost written in the shadows under her eyes. she loved ambessa too, in her way, even as she plotted her death. "i understand," you tell her, voice hollow. "it had to be done. she wouldn’t see reason. she was ruining us.”

୨୧ you see how she flinches at your words, how desperately she wants absolution you cannot give.  

୨୧ "you are still my daughter," you add softly, and watch her composure crack. she reaches for you but you step back, the space between you as vast as the void in your chest. “but my blood does not forgive.”

୨୧ you turn back to her before leaving. you say, "learn from your mother. do not apologize for the kill. if they see weakness they will eat you alive. stand on her bones. build on them."

୨୧ you start to forget to eat, to sleep. your ladies whisper concerns about your wandering the castle at night, how you speak to shadows in ambessa's voice. ithoa grows more restless, wilder—they say grief-maddened dragons are dangerous, but you understand her rage. you are two halves of the same coin. 

୨୧ sometimes you wake thinking she's still there, reach for her warmth only to find cold sheets. you wear her old shirts to bed, press your face to the fabric searching for traces of her scent. sometimes you go back to the war room, press your face into the cold spot where her body had rotted, and try to find her.  

୨୧ you only reach her in your dreams.  

୨୧ you sleep in her chambers still, surrounded by her things. sometimes you wake to phantom touches—her hand in your hair, her lips against your shoulder. you find yourself talking to her, telling her about your day as if she's just stepped out for a moment. "you would have laughed," you say to the empty room, "you would have loved this."

୨୧ ithoa refuses to leave the castle grounds, her massive form curled around the tower where you sleep. her grief manifests in physical changes—her scales losing their luster, her eyes clouding over. her handlers whisper that she's dying of heartbreak. you understand—you're dying too, just more slowly.

୨୧ you find yourself holding her things to your chest—her favorite knife, still sharp enough to draw blood when you clutch it too tightly; her riding gloves, worn soft with use; her journal, filled with battle plans and, in the margins, little notes about you.  

୨୧ “[name] wore green again today," she wrote once,  “she is my only redeeming quality.”

୨୧ sometimes, in your last days, you remember that morning in the garden. how the sun caught in her hair, how she looked younger when she smiled. "if i die," she had said, practical even then, "don't follow me too quickly." 

୨୧ you had kissed her quiet, tasting sunshine. "you can't ask that of me," you'd whispered against her mouth. "you've never asked impossible things of me before—don't start now."  

୨୧ she had laughed, then grown serious. "you're the best of me," she said, touching your face with those deadly hands that were only ever gentle with you. "the only good thing i've ever done." you had wanted to argue—she was more than her reputation, more than her wars.  

୨୧ but she kissed you again and you let it go.

୨୧ now, you think she would understand. after all, she never could deny you anything you truly wanted. and this—a reunion, a reclaiming, an ending that is really a beginning—this is all you want.  

୨୧ "fresh air might do you good," your lady's maid suggests, and you smile distantly toward the misty bridge.  

୨୧ "yes," you agree, fingering the vial in your sleeve. "i think i shall walk tomorrow, at dawn."  

୨୧ you don't tell her you've already sent your letters—one to mel (forgiveness, finally, because you know now how duty weighs), one to your house (explanation, though they never understood), one to the maesters (instructions for ithoa's care, though you suspect she'll follow you as dragons sometimes do).  

୨୧ dawn breaks cold and clear. you wear blue, the color of loss in your house, and ambessa's favorite ring. it is heavy and should keep you under the waves. ithoa waits by the bridge, her dark scales catching the first light.  

୨୧ the bridge stretches out before you like a body. ithoa's eyes follow your every movement, understanding in her ancient gaze.

୨୧ you uncork the vial with steady hands. you pray. the poison doesn't taste of anything at all. you think that's funny, somehow—that death should be so subtle when life with her was so vivid.  

୨୧ as your vision starts to blur, you swear you see her standing at the other end of the bridge. she's wearing her armor, but her hair is up the way you always loved it. "little dove," she calls, holding out her hand, “you’re late, and i’ve missed you."

୨୧ they say a dragon's cry can be heard for leagues. they say ithoa's mourning shook the mountains themselves.  

୨୧ they say that when they found you floating in the water, you were smiling and still beautiful, one hand stretched out as if reaching for someone just beyond sight. it almost looked as if you fell, that you’d leaned too far, if not for the vial. they place flowers in your mouth, in the bloated pockets of your waterlogged skin.

୨୧ mel won’t let them burn you. you sink into the earth, and your flesh becomes land. she puts your bones in her mother’s grave but keeps a tooth. it’s diamond, a replacement for one lost to illness, and it sits in the center of her diadem.

୨୧ your last thought, as the world grows soft around the edges, is of ambessa’s hands, how the scars hurt her the most there. the pain was chronic, aggravated by any extensive movement. still, she bent them to hold yours because you were always scared in the beginning.  

୨୧ through the water, the sky seems so wide. you aren’t scared now. you're going home. you're going home. you're going home.  

୨୧ maybe it is not a good place, where you’ll arrive, but it will not matter.

୨୧ the afterlife is white and quiet. it presses against you. you’re slick, weeping, and bare. there’s a birdsong in your head. 

୨୧ you turn, crouched low like a dog, and she’s there.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @sugrcookiiee @icespiceluva  @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3 @fruitfulfashion @ambessaswifey

[questionablecuttlefish]

One of the most popular topics that people likes to bring up in shipwars “against” lightcannon is that we mischaracterize (did I write it correctly?) Lux to fit in our delusions. For example: she didn't kill Sylas and she despises killers and her ideals and morality is the most important thing to her, oh, also that she's good

So you as a Lightcannon writer and someone who is very familiar with her lore and character, could you give me your perspective about this?

Ah yes, that one.

Here's my answer in pictures:

But more seriously. 😆

I think that's a gross oversimplification of Lux's character, and it's generally an argument made by people who don't know who Lux is beyond the most superficial impression.

It's a product of a mindset that can't separate modern ideals of 'morality' - what would be moral to you and me, from our culture and our moment - from a character raised in a very, very different culture and a very different world.

A good example is the opening scenes of A Game of Thrones, we witness the horrible slaughter of a group of Night's Watch by the Others. The lone, desperate survivor escapes, and in the very next scene, we see that he's been captured by the Lord of a castle, who is about to execute him for the crime of desertion by beheading with a sword. This man makes his sons watch as he decapitates this poor, innocent bastard who, to us, has done no wrong and just survived a terrifying experience. He makes sure his seven year old, Bran, witnesses him cut a man's head off with a sword.

Meet Eddard Stark, probably the most forthright, honorable, and morally upstanding character in the series.

Look, Lux is a 'good' character. She's smart, compassionate, forthright, and principled. She almost always takes the diplomatic option first and uses violence primarily in self-defense.

On the other hand, she's a Crownguard. She is the daughter of the highest ranking noble household next to the King himself. Her Aunt is the High Marshall of the entire Demacian military. Her Uncle is(was,heh) the head of the Mageseekers, so the mage hunting secret police. Her brother is the Might of Demacia, Sword Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard.

What I'm saying here is that Lux is a military brat. She has been born and raised into the values of a highly militaristic, feudal warrior culture at the very highest level of that society. She's been trained in warrior arts - riding, swordfighting, archery, and military tactics and strategy - since she could walk and form words.

In her old lore? She was literally a traumatized, brainwashed child soldier taken from her family and trained to fight for Demacia.

In her new/current lore? She's still a trained spy who has succeeded at several covert missions within Noxus.

We've seen her fight monsters and Mageseekers in the M.S game, she didn't hesitate to shoot Sylas with a crossbow and stab him with a dagger until his mages dragged her off him in the comic, as above.

She also witnessed her brother behead a man in the For Demacia story; she was trying to intervene because she had sussed that there was something else going on, and therefore his death would have been unnecessary and unjust, not necessarily out of protest at the death penalty itself.

It's worth noting - as the Mageseeker confirms - that Lux stayed out of the mage rebellion not out of 'naive pacifism' as she's sometimes accused of, but because: 1. She couldn't forgive Sylas for his betrayal.

2. A desire to protect the noncombatant refugees in her care.

3. She's still loyal to Demacia and her family and refused to fight her own kin.

4. because she knew if she stayed neutral, she could leverage her Crownguard privilege and name with King Jarvan to negotiate protection for mages after the conflict.

Which, y'know, she did.

All of these are products of who she is a character, a Demacian, a Crownguard, and a canny political operator. None of these are blind pacifism, this is the kind of soft power "Fox" move Mel Medarda would recognize and approve of.

So no, Luxanna Crownguard isn't going to be put off by Jinx's violence.

Violence is inherently part of her world, too. Demacia is a 'medieval' feudal regime that is almost perpetually at war with its neighbours and, in some ways a harsher, more brutal place than Piltover and Zaun, particularly its notions of 'justice'.

Piltover is only about 50% likely to have public executions as entertainment/morality lesson, Demacia absolutely 100% does and we've seen two of them in canon, is what I'm saying.

I think Lux would understand that Jinx committed terrible deeds, yes, as part of a civil conflict that Lux herself would be coming at with only an outsider's understanding.

Lux knows exactly how it feels to have best intentions blow up in your face, to be backed into a corner and forced to take some pretty extreme actions to survive.

I don't think, after her actions and choices triggered the Mage Uprising and cost untold lives across Demacia, Lux would consider her own hands clean enough to judge someone like Jinx. Sure, Lux didn't mean to give Sylas her power to commit second hand mass murder, but Powder didn't mean to kill her family either.

And it's also worth noting the part of Sylas' actions that Lux doesn't forgive - especially in the Mageseeker dialogue - is specifically the personal betrayal of her trust, outing her as a mage, and ruining her life.

She understands his cause. She won't join it, because that would mean siding with someone who wants to kill her family, but again, Lux's reasons for choosing not to fight are much more complex and personal than 'she hates violence'.

She's able to compromise enough to accept Sylas' help when her city comes under siege, because while Lux is a 'good guy', she's also a pragmatist first.

I think Lux would see a lot of Sylas in Jinx. I think she would see a lot of herself, as well, particularly once she learned about Jinx's past, about Silco (basically Jinx's Sylas figure, no?) and about everything she's been through.

I don't think Lux would judge her for that.

I feel that Lux would try to be the voice of reason, the hand holding hers to ground her, maybe even the olive branch to help her try to repair some of her burned bridges (this is certainly what she tries to do in Ill-Omen's) and that could cause interesting conflict in their developing relationship.

But I think Lux would understand. Jinx may be more volatile and spiteful and personal in her use of violence, but she's shaped by experiences not far from Lux's own.

And by Season Two? Yeah, no, Season Two Jinx is well and truly on her hero arc. Post-Season Two Jinx? Especially if she's trying to put violence aside and heal?

Post season two Jinx, who's grieving losing her father, her sister, her child? That Jinx would absolutely attract Lux's compassion even more than before.

I've written so many words to answer it, but to me, it's such a non-argument to begin with. You have to not even look at Lux past "blonde nice girl" to think it.

[captain039]

PART 8 Blood, Fur and Magic

Vampire Viktor x reader x Werewolf Jayce

Warnings: Vampire things, werewolf things, light swearing, possessiveness, smut, sexual, intimacy, poly relationship, angst, violence swearing

Previous part <-

Three red hooded figures stand above, you feel a cold hard stone under your back, a blood red moon in the sky. You see the decaying forest around you, dead trees and underbrush, crows perch around cawing gently. You can’t move bound by some invisible force.

“Bring the end” three voices meld together as one.

“Seperate, divide, conquer, kill” they add as you see your once blue runes are now a red and oozing, the glow in your hands a swirl of red and something darker than just colour.

“Reject the bond”

“Embrace us��

You wake up with a gasp gripping a hand to your chest you hear faint voices and hands on your shoulders, the room around you is chaotic like a bomb went off the walls are cracked, books tumble, glass wear broken. You lift your hands into your hair and grip it you can feel your magic tremble and shake with whatever emotion boils inside you. You can hear distant yelling see two figures beside you but they’re blurred.

“REJECT THE BOND” The voice is like a pinch to the face and you get knocked back, you distantly hear your own voice whimpering no’s over and over again before there’s a flash of blue light and you focus on the voices.

“Come on, come back to us!” Jayce, you know that voice, a safe voice.

“Come on, sweet thing talk to us” Viktor, you feel his cool hands on your clammy neck thumb gently stroking your jaw. You blink and focus on golden brown eyes, stumbled jaw and shaggy hair. You reach out gripping his arm that’s near you.

“Hey- hey we’re here we’ve got you” Jayce says as you look to Viktor. Eyes swirling with purples, reds and blues, sharp cheek bones and the mole that’s above his lip.

“Miláček?” Viktor whispers his thumb still stroking your jaw. You grip Jayce’s arm for a moment before you take a small breath.

“I-I’m here” it doesn’t come out as confident as you want, but both men sigh in relief. Jayce presses his lips to your temple holding them there for a couple of seconds before he gently brushes your hair back.

“What-?” You look around the your room, ruined.

“We felt your magic, it was like pain, a deep fear then we felt the whole house shake” Viktor says a deep furrow in his brows.

“There was- I saw something” you mutter.

“We thought so” Jayce says eyes warm and gentle.

“Same figures only red robes and something even darker about them, the forest was dead and they kept telling me to ‘bring the end’ and ‘reject the bond’ and my magic it was dark, something forbidden” you shiver as Jayce squeezes your shoulder gently.

“One tells me to accept the other tells me to reject it I don’t know what’s going on” you take a small shuddering breath as Viktor hushes you gently and climbs in the bed behind you his arms wrapping around your middle protectively. Jayce sits down in front of you cupping your cheek.

“We’ll figure this out, ok?, together” he nods and you sag against Viktor. You lie on your side cradled like a child in his lap while Jayce sits on the edge of the bed his leg jogging slightly.

“We need help, outside knowledge” Jayce stands and begins to pace his fingers scratching at his beard in thought.

“Miss Medarda?” Viktor asks and Jayce tenses.

“Mel’s-“ Jayce sighs running a hand through his head.

“Jayce” Viktor says softly.

“Alright I’ll talk to Mel, maybe Heimerdinger, stay here with her” Jayce says.

“Jayce?” You frown and sit up.

“They think Viktor’s dead” He sighs.

“I don’t think anyone really knows what to think about me” Viktor says thoughtfully.

“Just give me a minute, we’ll go together” you say and Jayce nods.

“Of course I’m sorry” he sits back down again and you reach out to him. He smiles softly and takes your hand in his gently stroking his thumb over your knuckles.

Going back to where everything was once simple and easy is nerve wracking. The guards let you in without a word, the halls are quieter. You subconsciously move closer to Viktor who gently takes his hand in his, you can feel his own nervousness about this situation. Jayce walks in front of you both almost reminding you of a large protector dog, in this case wolf, the air around him feels wild. You walk into the council room and you grip Viktor’s hand a little tighter, the table is fixed the whole room is fixed like nothing ever happened. You look over to where Viktor was found lying dead and see the memory flash like a picture making you quickly look away.

“Jayce my dear boy” Heimerdinger says.

“Professor” Jayce nods.

“Talis” Mel says.

“Medarda” Jayce reply’s. Mel looks to you her eyes wide you see a flash of gold in her eyes not the same as Jayce’s a brighter blinding gold. She stands a little shakily and walks around the table her eyes switching between the three of you. Mel was always one of the council members you preferred, working under her was easy she was kind but firm when needed. Mel hugs Jayce which makes you tense at first before you relax, Jayce gives her back a small pat before she moves to you. She goes to touch you but her eyes glow again you see the golden light of her magic flicker.

“You-?” She trails off and you slide up your sleeves showing her the blue runes embedded in your skin.

“Gods” she mutters before you slide your sleeves down. She holds your hands giving them a gentle squeeze before turning to Viktor. He takes his hood off his unnatural eyes almost lighting up in the dark room.

“I see some ‘changes’ have occurred” she says carefully.

“You could say that” Jayce mutters.

“Here I was thinking I was the only one affected but such an attack” She forces a small smile before looking to Heimerdinger.

“What had happened to the three of you?” He asks. It’s a long story, Jayce telling his part, Viktor telling his and then you, you leave out certain bits such as more physical activity’s that have occurred.

“A vampire?” Heimerdinger asks his brows frowning and Viktor nods.

“A werewolf?” He adds and Jayce nods.

“And a mage?” He finishes.

“Something like that” you mutter.

“And these, visions you’ve been having of the three figures?” He asks.

“Six now, if you count the most recent ones” you sigh.

“Strange, I knew you weren’t the same when you returned Jayce, why didn’t you say anything my boy?” Heimerdinger asks looking to Jayce who rubs his neck awkwardly.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t- I don’t know” he gives up.

“And asking for help again? Didn’t you learn everything the Arcane is dangerous, magic is dangerous” Heimerdinger sighs his face disappointed. Jayce glares his eyes flashing gold and you reach under the table to hold his hand calming him down. He sighs giving your hand a gently squeeze before speaking.

“Professor with respect, I don’t think you know the entirety of the Arcane” he says carefully almost like he’s afraid to be scolded.

“Perhaps not but in this case, these visions you’re having the recent one, ‘being the end’ that, that is precisely my point of dangerous” Heimerdinger sighs shaking his head.

“The split cities, nothing good can come of this” he gestured to you all and you grimace. Jayce growls and stands his hand slamming on the table.

“I’m well aware of the dangerous professor” he pants a little heavily making Heimerdinger flinch.

“Perhaps the professor should let us talk alone for a while?” Mel speaks up.

“Yes, that might be wise” Heimerdinger says and walks off. Jayce sits back down and sighs running a hand through his hair.

“The professor means well” Viktor says.

“He does, however this situation is not in his best interests” Mel says.

“And what is?” Jayce sighs.

“Me” Mel says simply.

“These, powers I have grant me access to some forbidden knowledge that may help you, give me a few days and I I’ll let you know” Mel adds you look at her a little wide eyed not expected her to help so easily.

“We may have our history’s but I still consider you all friends, even you Viktor” Mel says and Viktor looks up and at her.

“Thank you Miss Medarda” he says and she gives a firm nod and small smile.

“Though I suspect you weren’t telling everything” she smirks a little and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“This magic, this bond you talk about is between the three of you?” You nod.

“Connects you together in many ways” she adds and you want the chair to swallow you.

“I’m aware it’s none of my business however physical activities in magic can lead to deeper bonds” she says and you want to die of embarrassment even if what she’s saying makes sense.

“We are deeply connected to her magic, it runs through us especially when being physical” Viktor says and you can hear his smirk.

“You are the source in this, despite Jayce being the first to be affected, you are the base” She addresses you.

“How?” You frown.

“Neither one of these conditions could have come about with out a powerful mage, and neither of them would be put together in any situation without bloodshed, both beasts relying on a baser primal state” she explains.

“Take you away they may very well be fang and claw at each other” she adds.

“I would never harm Viktor” Jayce snaps.

“I’m not saying you would Jayce I’m saying that deeper primal wild spirit would, you’d have no control. Think about it, she’s been with you since o you both changed” She adds.

“The visions” you mutter.

“I wasn’t there that’s why you’re at each other’s throats lost in the primal state” you say.

“She’s right Jayce” Viktor says and Jayce grits his teeth but cannot argue with the facts.

“Let me gather some things and I’ll come by and drop them off, if there’s anything else I can do to help let me know” Mel smiles.

“We made need new living arrangements” Jayce mutters and you feel yourself tense.

“I kinda of blew up in my room?” You chuckle nervously.

“I have house you can borrow for now, while you get through this” Mel smiles and stands. You, Jayce and Viktor follow suit, you finally able to give Mel a hug, you feel a little rush of magic flowing between you hers meeting yours.

“Take care of them” she whispers to you.

Next part ->

[thesecondhandwoman]

HER NOXIAN KNIGHT

Mel x f!reader

Synopsis: You has become Mel’s guardian ever since she returned back home to Noxus. But what started as a professional relationship slowly turned into something more.

The air in Noxus was different from Piltover. It wasn’t the sharp tang of industry or the hum of progress. No, Noxus tasted like steel and blood, and the weight of it sat heavy on your tongue. The streets were wider but somehow more suffocating, and every glance from its people was sharper, more calculating.

But you belonged here.

You stood guard just outside the grand hall of House Medarda’s fortress, every muscle in your body taut as stone. The armor you wore was heavier than what you’d grown used to in Piltover, but it wasn’t just the steel that weighed you down. It was her.

Mel Medarda.

No longer the gilded diplomat of Piltover, she had returned home at the behest of her mother. But Noxus wasn’t a place that welcomed softness, and you’d watched her sharpen herself into something harder. She still moved with grace, still wore silk and gold like it had been spun just for her, but there was iron beneath it now.

And you were sworn to her.

At first, you told yourself it was simple duty. A knight’s purpose was to protect. But it had become more than that. Somewhere along the line, you stopped guarding Lady Medarda and started guarding Mel.

Today was one of those days when she tested you.

You felt her eyes on you long before you heard her approach. She had a way of moving that made her presence known without a sound, a predator’s grace wrapped in the scent of jasmine and incense.

“Do you ever relax, knight?” Her voice slid over you like warm honey, smooth and dangerously sweet.

You straightened even more, eyes locked forward. “I’m on duty, Lady Medarda.”

Her soft hum was almost a laugh. “You’re always on duty.” She circled you slowly, her fingertips grazing the cool edge of your shoulder pauldron. “Do you sleep like this too? Back stiff, eyes open, ready to swing a blade at a moment’s notice?”

Her teasing lilt made it difficult to keep your composure, but you’d been trained for this.

“Sleep is a luxury,” you replied, your voice firm but not unkind.

“Tch. Spoken like a true Noxian,” she said, stepping into your line of sight. Her golden eyes caught the dim torchlight, molten and piercing. “But I’m not asking Noxus for an answer. I’m asking you.”

You swallowed. Her eyes stayed on yours, heavy as a hand pressing against your chest. She’d always done this—peeled back your armor with words alone, forced you to face parts of yourself you’d rather keep buried.

“I rest when I’m needed,” you finally said. “And I’m always needed here.”

Her brow arched, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. She stepped closer, her gaze flicking down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

“Then who looks after you, knight?” she asked softly, tilting her head. “If you guard me, who guards you?”

You hated how easily she unraveled you. Words failed you, as they often did when she spoke like this, her voice low and close enough to make your pulse jump. You were saved by the sound of approaching footsteps from down the hall.

Mel pulled back, her gaze still on you, sharp and golden. “You should think about that,” she said, her voice suddenly cool, distant. “A sword left unattended will rust.”

Her words followed you long after she walked away, the scent of jasmine still lingering in the air.

Two weeks passed, and nothing had changed—at least, not on the surface. You still stood by her side as her shadow, silent and unyielding. But something had shifted. You felt it in every glance she spared you, every brush of her fingers against your armor, every deliberate pause before she gave you an order.

Tonight, you found yourself outside her private chambers, standing vigil while noble guests filled the halls behind you. Another Noxian gathering of generals, tacticians, and warlords eager to curry favor with the Medarda matriarch. Your ears picked up fragments of their conversations— strength, conquest, power—all the things that made Noxus Noxus.

But then you heard a voice. Hers.

“Knight. Inside. Now.”

Her voice was calm, but you knew better. She needed you. Without hesitation, you stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind you.

“Is something wrong, my lady?” you asked, your hand instinctively moving to the hilt of your sword.

Mel was seated on the edge of her bed, a goblet of red wine in her hand, the liquid swirling slowly as she gazed into its depths. Her robe, loose at the collar, slid off one shoulder, revealing smooth, golden skin. She looked tired. Not in the way of generals after a battle, but like someone who had been wearing a mask for too long.

“Sit,” she said, nodding toward the space beside her.

You hesitated. This is improper. But you weren’t just her knight, and you both knew it. Slowly, you unfastened your sword belt, setting it aside as you sat next to her, careful to keep some distance.

She glanced at you, and something softened in her expression. “You’re always so formal,” she muttered, taking a sip of wine. “So careful.”

“Care keeps you alive,” you replied, eyes forward.

“Does it?” She turned fully toward you, her knee brushing against yours. “Or does it keep you from living?”

Your breath caught, and you turned to face her. Her eyes were on you again, steady, searching. You didn’t know if it was the wine, the late hour, or the weight of the last few weeks, but you felt it, the thread pulled taut between you both.

“It’s not my place,” you said quietly, but the words felt hollow even as you said them.

Mel’s smile was slow and sharp, like a blade being unsheathed. “And if I told you it was?”

Before you could fully respond, the distance between you vanished. Her fingers found the edge of your jaw, tilting your face toward hers. Her touch was deliberate, her gaze locked onto yours like a hawk on prey.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her breath warm against your lips.

You could have said yes. You could have pulled away, reclaimed your armor, and become her knight once more. But you were tired too.

“No.” You breathed, your walls crumbling down into piles of dust and ash.

You leaned forward, and she met you halfway.

The kiss was slow at first—a test, a question, a quiet rebellion. But when you didn’t pull away, Mel deepened it, her fingers threading through your hair. She tasted like wine and fire, her lips soft but her grip firm.

You slid your hands to her waist, feeling the silk slip beneath your fingers. Her robe shifted as she leaned further into you, her body warm and solid. Your heart thundered in your chest, every sense heightened to the point of aching.

“Mel,” you breathed against her lips, your voice low and rough. “We—”

“Stop thinking,” she whispered, her lips brushing against yours with each word. “For once, just be here with me.”

Her words shattered something inside you. You pulled her closer, letting the weight of duty fall away like a discarded blade. Her hands moved over your shoulders, tugging at buckles and clasps, unmaking your armor with practiced precision.

Each piece fell away, and with it, so did the walls you’d built between you.

Her mouth moved against yours, hot and slow, like she had all the time in the world. She kissed you until you forgot your title, your oaths, and the weight of Noxus itself.

For once, you let yourself be selfish.

Her breath hitched as your hands roamed over her, and she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. Her eyes, usually so sharp, were hazy with something softer.

“You’re not just my knight,” she said quietly, running her thumb over your cheek. “You’re mine.”

There was no ceremony, no declaration of titles. Just the warmth of her touch and the taste of wine still on her lips.

And god did you love it.

A/N: Omg I need Mel in my life so damn bad. Anywho, should I do a part two, write a fanfic similar but with Sevika (knight), Mel (princess), and the reader (maid), or both?

[ultfreakme]

As a Mel lover, the sigh of relief I let out when no pregnancy plot happened. I was about to cry. So glad her plot was focused on her relationship with the Medarda name and coming into herself without adhering to anyone else's goals and expectations. She played the Black Rose too. The Fox & The Wolf indeed. I am so, so glad, that she stuck to her guts about not causing unnecessary bloodshed no matter what. This also manifesting in her powers as primarily a shield.

I wanted her to fight Ambessa head-on, but it makes sense she didn't. She isn't a trained fighter. She knows Ambessa has escaped alive against magic users with more practice. So she focused on support for Caitlyn and protecting people. But aside from that she could never truly fight her. She understands Ambessa, she sees why she is the way she is. And regardless of her own disagreements, she can't do it. it's the theme of the show. Love makes you do some terrible things.

In-story, I'm glad about how the Ambessa-Mel plot went.