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Torn Angel In Chains

Chapter Text

Under the chill of the mist that spreads over this blood filled field, Kayle flys over the battle in order to get a more clear view, it certainly became a difficult task to complete once the Noxians discovered her presence in the skies and prepared their bows in order to shoot her down . The bow was crafted of flexible, slender yew wood and wound around the grip was dyed red rawhide. On the quiver was carved the Demacians who perished once the arrow pierced through their bodies, stampeding the horizon, pounding it into a grimace. She saw the soldiers puts the base plate at their feet on the sodden blood drenched mud floor near their side and prepared to fire at the angel in the sky. Altogether these new weapon is over a hundred pounds, the arrows coming her way could have been over twenty-five arrows a minute into the skies she flew around from over eight hundred yards away. It can do what the swords or axes cannot, it can reach into the enemy hiding places with its curved path. Swords can only go in straight lines and kill one at a time. Kayle keeps her golden eyes on the bows and arrows for a moment while each soldier re-strings their bow, the deep wood flexing in the dawn. It takes just a moment, then they sling it behind them with the arrows, each as perfect as the last. The arrows coming her way made a heavy piercing sound filling her ears and becoming louder each second, as it flies closer and closer. Kayle would have found it is too much for simple to simply fly above the arrows, but her comrades were below her and it was her duty as the wings of Demacia to protect the people she fights alongside. The young woman was quick to pry the edged cutlass from the arrows and whipped around to clash steel. She held the blade even, a perfect, undaunted horizon in the sky; always leveled with the nose, just as her father had taught her. She had stalled the arrows attempting to strike her but watched a wretched, stained grin split the Noxian’s lips as her blade shivered under the brutality of their compelling weapons. Kayle quickly flew around and cut every arrow in the sky, she had succeeded to protect her comrades.


In a field that has seen thousands of years of peace lie cold corpses, and still the weapons are fired without stop, without a single witness. The battle is mechanized and even when no more heat signatures remain they will fire until empty - more profit for the soldiers. The weapons have no PTSD, no empathy, no remorse, never fail to kill on command. They don't know what it is to be living, what they "decommission" on commanders orders, yet they have been given the privilege to be worshipped by the Noxians and to "kill" one carries the stiffest of penalty even though they are backed up in the forts or trenches that they have made. The only escape is the underground bunkers, deep under rock, protected from their sensors. Demacians can't live this way forever, like human-rabbits in their warren. Demacia was falling apart, Noxus had expanded its territory and captured many villages and cities within Demacia. No one would have thought this would be the last battle - them or us, all or nothing, no truce, no captives. Kayle knew deep inside this battle was shifting in favor of Noxus, but she had her laws to follow. “Never abandon your comrades, never give up the fight until it is either won or lost, never let the enemies change you,” Kayle always repeated those words to herself whenever she in battle to remind herself that she would lay order to the Demacians.


Men screamed in pain clutching their grievous wounds as bows twang sending snakes of deaths into the never-ending army. The castle walls stood high defiantly in face of such furious siege weapon its proud back straight. The siege towers lumbered on slowly at a snail pace. "Fire!" Jarvan the fourth ordered suddenly as catapults unleashed waves of death destroying siege weapons and burning men alike. The sun beat down on them furiously as the heat wave continued unaffected at such chaos. Demacia and Noxus fired and attacked from both sides furiously trying to gain the advantage. Rams battered at the gate as oil ran down with feet men ran in anguish as they were burnt from the magma substance they screamed until they couldn't until they rested into nothingness. The battle continued. The Demacian soldiers fight for their home, fight for the justice only they can serve, fight for Demacia!

“This battle is for you. I fight for you. I see you suffer, confused, your aura one of fear and doubt. There is guilt there also, actions you cannot undo, for the past is only closed doors. You cannot follow me unless you trust and it is I that have been sent to win you over; it is my task to earn your trust and should I fail, the failure is mine to bare. It is my eyes you will see when your time of peace has come, when it is your turn to cross the waters to us. I am your personal guide, the one to answer your questions and quiet your soul. When you are ready, when you are calm, I will simply take your hand and explain whatever it is you need to know. It isn't over for you-you have journeys to travel before you can even know which questions to ask or understand why you need my help. When you are ready I will come, then we will walk, me and you, to the place we call paradise. I will warn you my people, that the battles can be hard. Battles can break you and leave you for dead just to see if you can get up again. Battles can teach through lessons that are cruel, but if that is the only way to save you then your path is set. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst and know that I have your back. Ultimately, your safety is won no matter how terrible the path, be brave, I'm never far.”


The angel knew that battle was truly not as glorified as she made it sound, however, she needed to encourage the soldiers to defend their home before they had all lost their way. Her words seem to have reached and soldiers and continued their battle in a patriotic manner.  Demacians lose their way easily, like Morgana. Oh how she dreaded when Morgana betrayed Demacia and sided with Noxus nearly a year ago. Whenever her twin crosses her mind, Kayle is filled with undying hatred. Hatred masquerades as an ointment to hurt when in truth it is no more than gasoline for the flames. More hatred only guarantees more enmity, more pain, more death ahead, never more healing or an increase in her duty and that is all she could feel for Morgana. Hatred, the twin of Kayle, is never her sister. Morgana refused to follow the path of their mother and  makes Demacia all weaker, a poison transmitted via ill-thought out words. Since joining Noxus, Kayle did not know what had become of her twin, surely she must have been useful to Noxus with her gifted flight and darkness. Kayle laughed at the thought, Morgana gifted in flight? That fool chained her wings to tread upon the soil like an animal. Kayle was much different, she enjoyed flying through the beautiful sky. She took her gift and benefited her kingdom as it was her duty.


The sound of weapons slashes against each other or against a soldier's skin filled Kayle's ears, this was war, this was battle, this was justice. The battlefield that day saw brave Demacians fighting to their last breath and the young army of conquerors wielding swords without mercy. The wounded and dead lay thickly over the wintry ground, garish crimson flowing over the soil where life is supposed to grow. When the bugle sounded the Noxians came too, not all, just the ones schooled in battle. Without a victory death was the better of the two options, these foes took only perfect specimens as slaves and left the rest to fertilize their new fields in order to destroy the wall.

They had to pull Noxus away from the wall. Noxus had many mage soldiers to aid them, yet the anti-magic wall that protected Demacia was the last defense the kingdom had. Galio was destroyed nearly three months ago by Darius's forces. It was also around the time the war shifted in favor of Noxus. It was not the only unfortunate death within the kingdom. Ever since King Jarvan the third had been assassinated his son, Jarvan the fourth was crowned king. While Jarvan was a good king in other ways, he was rather an inexperience with leading a major battle, such the one they were battling now. No one knew how long this war would last, Jarvan promised the war would end by the beginning of winter- it was now spring.

“Fire on sight!” Jarvan ordered loudly on the top of his lungs. The soldier fired their arrows at the Noxians. Each sound of the arrow pierced through even the loudest of screams and silenced those who were hit. Jarvan's strategy was a simple one- protect the wall at all cost. What would happen if the wall were to fall? Her golden eyes scanned the of the wall that protected the capital, she mainly saw the familiar silver and blue armor that every Demacian soldier wore. Her golden eyes caught sight of the one man wearing golden armor, her king.


“Your Highness!” Kayle called from above.


The king looked up to see Kayle fly a few feet above him, her feet meet the stone floor on the wall and kneeled in respect before Jarvan the fourth. “Sir, the Noxians attempted to fire their arrows inside the wall. I managed to deflect them all,” the angel reported.


“Good, assist Garen and Lux on the west side and stay by them at all cost,” Jarvan ordered as his blue eyes meet her golden ones for a moment, he then turned his head back and resumed his attention to the soldiers firing the arrows as the angel flew away.

“Secure the wall!”




The battlement stones were as washed out as the sky that Kayle flew around, one grey leaching into the other and each just as frigid without the sun. The granite was slick under the constant haze and robbed the heat of any man that dare lay next to it. Nevertheless, they did, backs flat to the unforgiving rock that protected their bodies from opportunistic arrows. As with many defending armies they were fathers, men with the strongest of reasons to live out the battle.


Garen swinged his large sword and instantly beheaded the Noxian soldier attempting to climb it, drenching the once white wall with crimson. This castle wall that arises from the battered Earth is as the mind of Demacian soldier, those who hide their hearts behind walls of stone as they plunder and kill. Up here, with the wind in his hair and only the sweet birdsong above, one could be forgiven for seeing their vainglory as benign. Yet he have seen the slaying and the suffering that multiplies. A good king could live in a humble cottage and still be revered, never needing armies or weaponry, only their giving heart. But Garen was proud that his king and best friend still decided to stay in battle.


The battlements are freckled with the lichen, the grassy fields beyond peeking through the gaps. Each wave of the grass in the gusting wind is as the calling of a cheeky child to come play... to forget the foolishness of gold and castles and the orders of these selfish monarchs. He did not want his younger sister Lux to be on the battlefield beside him. Every minute he turns his head back to make sure she was alright, he didn’t mean to do but his anxiety always got the better of him.


“Illumination!” Lux recited a spell and marked all affected enemies with light energy, the brightness caused ten Noxians to let go of their grip on the wall and fell to their deaths.


“Good job,” Garen complimented as he sighed in relief that she had the magic to protect her. It was something he never thought he would be thankful for. Garen never liked mages but he could never abandon his family, especially at a time like this.


Lux smiled warmly, “Thank you!”


At the corner of her eye, Lux notices the familiar winged woman flying their way and slowed down once she reached them. She still was flying a few feet above them.


“Kayle!” Lux greeted happily.


“Lovely to see you again, Kayle. I assume you are here to assist us,” Garen drawled, mainly distracted by the soldiers attempting to climb.


“Yes, king's orders,” the angel nodded in confirmation.


“Very well, Noxians are attempting to climb the wall. Fly around and kill them.”


Kayle nodded and stretched her wings out as swept through the air. She stopped flapping her wings and let the air carry her during the time she gripped the sword that previously belonged to her twin sister and gashed through the backs and heads every soldier climbing the wall. Their bodies fell like leaves on the tree, falling with their blood spreading on the wall and the air only for their corpses to hit the ground and never arise as they once did. Kayle continued this for ten minutes, but each time the soldiers kept climbing and climbing; acting without justification or concern for the consequences, they were mindless. Even after she had killed a fatal blow the soldiers continued to climb the wall as they were dying. These soldiers were not thinking, they ignored their pain…it was as if they were being mind controlled.

There was something puzzling in those soldiers, enough to send Kayle’s hand to hold back her mother's sword just in case. It was like something was weighing them down on one side and their muscles were struggling to compensate for their lack of balance, yet they continued to climb.


Kayle has been around for thousands of years, never had she seen a human being in that sort of state,  they looked as if they were dreaming. She didn't trust anyone without a visible weakness, it made her wonder if it was all a facade over something less stable, less honorable...less aware.

Kayle became curious about why the soldiers were not attacking. She stood still until a soldier managed to successfully climb the wall. It was just as she thought. The Noxian merely stood there and did not attack. Kayle flew closer the Noxian until she was a mere few inches away from his face, still nothing. She launched her celestial sword forward to the man's heart. She sensed dark magic from her sword that every other soldier that climbed possessed, yet it only came from one specific source, a source that was harder to sense. The man disappeared entirely, this was all an illusion.


“Luxanna,” she called out to the mage.


“Yes?” the girl answered.


“How long have you been fighting these soldiers climbing the wall?” she asked in a suspected resonance.


Lux paused her fighting and stared up as if the sky somehow had the answers, she thought for a few seconds.


“I believe since two hours ago,” she answered the questions in a monotone.


“And has there been the same soldiers or has new ones arrived?”


“The same ones, they have not…” the mage trailed off her words as she began to realize that the soldier she killed a few minutes ago was still climbing the wall. “....stopped,” she finished, only now realizing it. Lux appeared dumbfounded by her own realization, “but that can’t be possible…”


“It’s not possible, the only explanation would be none of this is real,” Kayle said certainly. “Mages in Noxus are far more advanced than by anything that I have ever seen. There must be a powerful mage among the soldiers that are creating these illusions.”


Lux turned to Kayle astonished by the disclosure, she felt like an idiot that for the past two hours she was fighting something that was not even real. She yelled out to Garen about the illusion, which he also appeared dumbfounded by.

“How are we going to find the mage?” Garen asked folding his arms.


“We are not.” Kayle stated sighing to herself. “I predict they might be far from the battlefield. They cannot be fighting and controlling the illusion at the same time, it would be impossible.They must be hiding somewhere. Our best chance on finding them would be for me to fly around, I might be able to sense their magic better.”


After the announcement the siblings similar blue eyes were as immobile as the rest of their faces, as if news like that was impossible to absorb any faster. Lux was frozen for maybe three whole seconds more than her brother before the corners of her mouth resumed their usual softness and her eyes quit staring. Garen frowned by Kayle’s strategy to go in alone, it was suicide.


“Are you completely mad? The moment they spot you in the sky they will obliterate you!” Garen exclaimed in surprise and angry voice.


“Kayle, if this mage is as powerful as you said then it would be too dangerous,” Lux agreed to express worrisome for her friend and comrade.


“This is our duty as Demacians, we need to handle this threat to our kingdom by any means necessary, even if it is suicidal,” Kayle stated determinedly, she knew whatever she would be facing would be certainly powerful but she had no other option. Her enemies were trying to destroy the nation she protected for thousands of years and she’d be damned to eternal suffering if she lets Noxus bring down the wall!


Garen sighed in defeat, he knew Kayle was too stubborn and determined to be stopped, “Very well, be safe.”


Kayle smirked arrogantly, she didn’t need Garen to wish her to be safe. Whatever caused this would be condemned to the celestial blade she wields. She would prevail and bring justice to these Noxian scum.


The judicator breathes deeply and shuts her eyes tight, calling on her cells to work with her, to bring punishment to the mage casting this illusion . Then, a few minutes later , her arms feel light. Really light. Like they were being pulled up from the ground. Soon enough, this light feeling spread to the rest of her body. Only when Kayle felt her feet lifted off the ground, that she open her gold eyes , and find out that she is far above the ground. No matter how many times she flew, the view and the feeling of flying never got old. In this feeling of joy, she soar towards the battlefield with frightening speed, killing any Noxian that dares to raise their sword at her. Kayles arms thrust in front to guide her through. Good thing. Through the helmet she wore, her eyes scanned the battle and followed wherever her senses were leading her. The magic was certainly powerful, very powerful. It felt unnatural that a mage could wield such powerful magic.Sooner or later, she manages to find the source of the magic. Kayle stopped flying forward and flapped her wings to fly in place. She was away from the battlefield, but she could still seen what was occurring over there. She was in an open space surrounded by forest trees.

The forest was one of those places which had no palpable reason to exist. It was a creaking shack created by nature to serve as a reminder that things could always be much, much worse. The unnatural, choking mist that swirled and sprawled on the forest floor was the first thing that spoke of a strange sort of wrongness. The sickly white substance seemed to possess liquid properties which only reminded of the maggot-like texture of the eyes of a dead man who had been forgotten in his apartment for a few months, ready to burst at the slightest touch. The smoke made no sound however and only parted to swallow up her feet even though her feet were not touching the ground. Kayle flew further upon the giant dead, festering eyeball of the forest floor. The sound of mushy and dead leaves whispered from under the skin of the mist. Where was the mage?

The drone of insects humming started the usual routine of the fallen sky. Slowly, the forest came alive with the layers of sounds echoing in the cold air. Little frogs croaked under large, broad leaves. The webs were stringed with delicate drops of morning dew, glistening in the first shards of sunlight. While the battle, not even a mile away was still being fought. The animals in every corner of the earth are waiting for the outcome. Kayle’s eyes scan the forest and listened closely to any sound that was not of forest creatures. Nothing. Kayle could still sense the magic that leads to the spot she was at. Perhaps the coward was hiding.

“Show yourself at once and I assure you I will smite you quickly,” Kayle ordered coldly, her guard was up for any possible ambush.

The silence lingered in the air, thick and heavy, like a blanket. Wherever she moved, that silence followed, always watching never fading. her own, personal shadow. It reminded her of Morgana. After waiting a few more seconds or surrender or at the very least, a response Kayle grew impatient. The judicator forged the bright flames to where the blade once was and yelled once more: “Show yourself you coward and face your judgment!”

“Judgment? Heh, interesting choice of words…” a feminine voice spoke as a chuckle rolled off her tongue moments later that felt like a breeze caressing her skin, “a very interesting choice of words.”

Kayle let out a slow controlled breath and attempted to loosen her body movements. She was flying like a clockwork soldier and that was no way to be in this neighborhood. She gave her shoulders a wiggle and lolled her head in a circle, let her stride slacken to a more casual pace. She could not tell where the voice was coming from, it was everywhere. It was a decent effort, enough to fool the casual observer, but for the judicator, with a keen eye, she was flying advert for tension. Her eyes moved with the alertness that comes from heavy stress and her hands remained clenched by subconscious demand of her sword to find the mage.

“I assume you are the one who has cast the illusion on the wall?” Kayle questioned.

Despite unable to see the mage, the angel could tell the mage was smirking and was able to see her. Her eyes cannot be fooling her, she was unable to find the caster. Kayle was visibly getting irritated.


“Why do you refuse to bring yourself forward? You must be a coward,” Kayle uttered in a grimace manner. She clenched her sword tightly, still awaiting an ambush.

“A coward I am not, why do you continue to be judgemental? I assume that to be the task of a God, no?” The mage teased.

“You are not the one to be asking questions if you remain away from my eyes!” Kayle huffed angrily by the mage, she needed to end the illusion yet the mage refused to show herself. Still, she answered: “It is my duty to perish this world of its deceivers and sinners.”

The mage laughed loudly by the answer, It was a cruel mocking laugh. Yes, it was an interesting choice of words once more. “Do not judge someone because they sin differently from you,” she quoted humorously. “Worry for the fall of your kingdom…”

Lines forming between her eyebrows. Kayle's head was tilting to the side and frowning offended by that statement, yet confused by her last sentence.

“What do you…”


Before Kayle could finish her sentence out on the rolling skyline, a mile away, a lancelike ray of blue-white light shot up into the gathering dusk--a clump of five rays, really, from five deep shafts in an irregular pentagon half a mile across, blended into one by the distance where the wall was. An instant later, there was a blinding flash, like sheet-lightning, and a huge ball of varicolored fire belched upward, leaving a series of smoke-rings to float more slowly after it. That fireball flattened, then spread to form the mushroom-head of a column of incandescent gas that mounted to overtake it, engorging the smoke-rings as it rose, twisting, writhing, changing shape, turning to dark smoke in one moment and belching flame.




Kayle jumped from the sudden explosion, she flew up higher to see what it was ...there was an enormous explosion. It was as though a fist of orange flame had decided to punch it's way into the wall. The concrete shattered. Smoke and fire rushed out. Thousands of pieces of stone and other material, a deadly rainfall, showered down. Alarms - shrill and deafening- erupted. A huge bite had been taken out of the side and the wall of that surrounded the capital. Kayle had seen the size of the explosion. It was hard to believe it had done so much damage. This was all a distraction to blow up the wall.


Kayle was white as chalk. Her eyes and her mouth were frozen wide open in an expression of stunned surprise, and although she was staring straight at the wall. It had been completely destroyed. Her fingers were jumping rhythmically, as if in spasm...And then her legs gently folded and she subsided slowly on the flapping of her wings, ungainly as a marionette...Her bowels suddenly churned. Oh, Gods, she prayed, don't let that happen, not now...she still floats here fighting the terrible loosening of her bowels, the need to vomit. The walls were destroyed, the last defense was destroyed, Demacia will fall!


Her wings flapped with the tarmac with all the grace of a sack of the cold air, the springing graceful flying of twenty miles earlier had long since disappeared. Her rasping throat was as parched as a dead lizard in the desert sun. Her head bobbed loosely from side to side with each flight and her eyes felt heavy in their sockets. Kayle did not let that bother her, she needed to get back to her people quickly, she did not care for the mage anymore.


“Judgment day will come sooner~”



A bitter wind swept the hillside and the ground was slick with blood. The lucky few wore thick leather armour, the rest only sweaters of wool. The soldiers stood in formation, four rows was all they had, their eyes trained on the road to see how many the duke would send. They heard the sound of armor long before they saw the mass of uniformed bodies lead by a horseman bearing a flag of their enemy. Their answer had come. This is what it meant to fail to pay taxes in the district, no excuses, no mercy. Every face blanched and the messenger fled to the village with the order to evacuate. This was never a battle they could never win, only a sacrifice to buy time.

Once Kayle reached the west side of the wall she found Garen and Lux on the ground, most likely caused by the explosion. The Crownguard siblings were fighting Noxian soldiers that sept into the wall after it was destroyed. All around them was a massacre. Noxians slaughtering every Demacian on sight; house to house, alley to alley, every street, every corner, there was blood and corpses.


Kayle flew down and instantly beheaded the Noxians around the siblings, their heads flew off as if it were old wood.  Once the threat was out of their way, Lux sighed in relief.


“What happened?!” Kayle questioned panicked.


“We...were fighting and just heard an explosion. The walls are down…” Lux said panting between in sentence in an attempt to catch her breath.


“Keep fighting! We have to keep fighting until we fall!” Garen cried out and plowed his sword into the Noxians chest in front of him. Kayle smiled, Garen was a true Demacian and shared her same views on justice, she was proud to fight alongside him.


“Your brother is right, fight until we received our orders from the king!” Kayle shouted and continued to dismember more soldiers with her sword and flames.


After ten minutes of fighting, the Demacians feared that more Noxians reinforcements would arrive and all would be lost. They were right to fear that. More and more Noxian were coming, the three Demacians tried to hold them off the best they could but soon enough they found themselves surrounded. Kayle could have flown away to avoid this but Garen and Lux could not fly and she was uncertain if she could carry them both. Alas, she had to try.


“Grab onto me and do not let go!” she commanded seriously at the siblings.


Garen and Lux stared at Kayle as if she grew another head, but as time was passing so was their chance at survival. Both of the Crownguard siblings grabbed ahold of Kayle's arms as she prepared herself to fly. It was certainly more difficult to fly while carrying two people, but she still gradually lifted herself off the ground and managed to fly. The Noxians were not going to make this easy on her either way. The soldiers pulled the strings of their bow and arrows and aimed it at the Demacians in the air. Garen, in a last ditch effort to help his comrade, threw his large sword at the Noxians and the blade tore the body of three soldiers apart, all at once. They didn’t know whether to retreat or continue to fight. Luckily for them, help had arrived.


A loud beastly roar filled the sky that sounded like an untuned cello caught the attention of Kayle, Garen, and Lux. amongst the sky they spotted a large purple dragon heading their way, it was Shyvana! Her scales gleamed in the sunset in the horizon. The scales that were her pride and delight. violet streaks were shot through them brighter than the sun or so it seemed. Black attached itself to both sides of the violet. With teeth as sharp and cold as icicles they could rip through amour. She thought absently just for defense. Spells as slippery as snakes and as powerful as the night sky for convenience she elaborated. Eyes with deep amber seemingly endless pools streaked with intelligence and wisdom. To see you know she said tossing her tail. Her tail hard as rock and could go through a castle wall as if it was no more than a toy. For balance she knew. Wings that stretched leathery like a bats. Colossal yet this dragon would be their savior.


Shyvana spotted that her comrades were endangered and prepared herself to burn away her enemies. Flickering, weaving under the breathe it was sparked into. A shrieking ray of melting amber purges out of the flame's capturing heat. It can be told that once the strongest of cornerstones were illuminated into molten when in a communion of such a harmful object of division but only the purest could make its identity out as courage, sound mind. It holds the power to give to anyone a harness of strong armies and a hope of a new beginning, but she was only using it for her people. It smoldered and burned those to a crisp that were foolish enough to be caught, which was the fate of many. After obliterating most of the soldiers in their way Shyvana quickly transformed back to her human form. She smiled warmly at her comrades who were still flying above her, but not too far. The angel came back down to earth and gently let go of her friends.


“King's orders: Garen and Lux are ordered to escape into the wood until a soldier will arrive and explain your next orders.” Shyvana explained. “It’s too dangerous to be here now.”


“He wants us to abandon the battle?” Lux stared at the half-dragon perplexed.


“King’s orders! Do not question them!” Shyvana shouted startling the mage, “Run now! We will hold them off!”


Lux was going to protest but Garen quickly grabbed her arm and grabbed the nearest horse. Kayle saw her comrades ride off with very little interfering with their escape. The angel and the half-dragon held off the Noxians for over an hour, they repeated the fighting all this time and she wondered if this was an illusion or not. After they realized they were not going to win this way, Shyvana changed her strategy and told Kayle to fly towards the castle. Soon enough, Noxians began to follow them and not just any of them, it was a Yordle.


“Come back here, you whippersnappers!", the Yordle riding some kind of lizard yelled through the dark streets along with a group of soldiers. They chased the two Demacians.


“Come back or I will feed you to Skaarl!”


The rattling of the soldier's armors sounded like barking hounds in this battle. Kayle and Shyvana, both deeply in fear, tried to fly towards the castle faster. Kayle's heart pounded fast as her wings were flying faster and faster. She couldn't stand the thought of losing to Noxus but the wall has fallen to this brutal and evil empire.


“Get her!", the crazy sounding Yordle’s voice crawled through her skin. Faster. She must flee.

But suddenly, as she just looked back for one second, purple magical energy hit her back. Kayle screamed in pain as the brute force appeared out of nowhere and crashed her to the ground. She saw the same flash of purple magic hit the half-dragon as well.


Kayle did her best to ignore the pain she received from the strike and the ground and tried to get up as fast as she could but it was too late. In front of her, some soldiers appeared and as she turned she saw the pale face and dark smile of a purple-haired mage wearing a revealing bodysuit, a cape that covered her shoulders and holding a golden staff with the same purple energy that hit her earlier. Her face looked like some porcelain doll and there were purple lines over her amber eyes that almost resemble some type of scar, the woman was beautiful. That was all Kayle could see through her helmet. Kayle’s heart drops to her stomach the moment her eyes meet the woman's amber ones. “ Oh no!” the angel thought fearfully. Out of all the Noxians to get caught by she had to be found by a Yordle and Emilia LeBlanc! Before she could try to escape she was captured between swords, walls and the woman before her.


“I shall be fallen,” she whispered as a soldier grabbed her arm. Her eyes accepting her death, but that was not what they planned on doing.


“Who the hell said yer gonna die?!" the Yordle grumbled winningly. The soldiers didn't move for that Kayle couldn't flee again. But it wasn't necessary. Kled grabbed her arm this strong she never would have made it flee. For a Yordle, he was surprisingly strong.


Kayle's face fell faster than corpse to the ground. In that instant her skin became greyed, her mouth hung with her lips slightly parted and her golden eyes were as wide as they could stretch. There wasn't even a point in reaching for her sword. With LeBlanc, there was no way she could escape, had LeBlanc been the mage that caste the illusion? Of course! The processes could do anything, Kayle cursed herself for not realizing this sooner. The judicator had nothing to protect her but empty words and the armor she wore. They had always been good enough up until now but somehow she didn't think it was going to work this time. Kayle glanced nervously at the fallen half dragon, Shyvana wasn’t moving, maybe she was unconscious- unless Shyvana had died already - then all hope was lost.


In a panic Kayle does the unthinkable, she headbutted Kled. The Yordle screamed in pain and grasp his paws on his forehead. Kayle took this opportunity to fly away. Without waiting another second she shimmies over the top of the building and tries to escape the enemy. A violent noise cracks into the startled air and she does not need to look down to know she has been hit by LeBlanc’s magic once more, that it is driving her towards becoming unconscious.


“Foolish girl,” Kayle heard the taunting voice of Emilia LeBlanc.


Kayle’s eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static as her body was falling back down to the ground. Throughout the inky space, her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading pleas for help. Without seeing it, Kayle’s body hits the ground in the alley and heard a ‘thud’ and ‘crack’, but she could not feel it, but Kayle knew she hit the ground. The feeling in her body drained away until finally, all was black. Kayle had been captured.

Chapter Text

“Come on Morgana!” A ten-year-old Kayle yelled behind to her twin sister, who was falling behind on their walk in the woods. “You’re slower than a snail!”


“Bite me!” Morgana yelled back, sticking her tongue out at Kayle.


Kayle turned around to face her twin, who was standing on the side of the trail, drawing circles on the damp dirt with a long, yet thin wooden stick. “I don’t want to get sick,” she snickered teasingly, sticking her tongue back at her sister.


“Meanie,” the other twin huffed without taking her eyes off the circles she was drawing. Kayle’s golden eyes tried to focus on whatever Morgana was drawing, but all she could see was circles. Her curiosity building like a cat fixated upon its prey. She walked back to where she twin was and stood beside her, her eyes wandered the damp dirt where Morgana was drawing. It was as she saw, her twin was drawing circles in the mud. The circles were drawn crookedly and the new ones seemed to have overlapped the old ones as the dirt that built up from the engraving fell onto the new ones.


“Uhh, why are you drawing circles?” Kayle asked curiously, examining the drawings.


“Duh, so we can find out way back, dummy,” Morgana stated as if it were obvious.


Kayle rolled her eyes by her twin's strange tactics, they’ve been walking in these woods long enough to know their back without any assistance from circles of all things.


“Well you’re taking too long, I wanna get back to father before dusk.”


Morgana stopped drawing and gave  her twin a half-suppressed scornful laugh in response. She nonchalantly waved her hand back and forth as if she was not bothered by it, “Pfft, you’re not afraid of a little darkness are you, sister?”


Kayle attempted to hide her face behind her chalky-white fingers, her cheeks became a color to rival the rose-pink hue of a spring flower in a field and shone through the gaps. Darkness was not something she found herself too fond of being around, the unknown abyss that lurked in endless black space scared Kayle. Even in her own bedroom she always kept the candles lit, which always bothered the twin she shared the bedroom with as Morgana could not sleep with there being light in the room.


“Of course not,” Kayle shook her head and frowned as if the idea was utterly ridiculous.


Morgana’s small lips curled up, forming into a wicked smile, “Oh yeah?” She said turning to her twin. “If you aren’t afraid, then we can play hide and seek after dusk, right?”


Kayle kept a straight face but on the inside, she was terrified of the thought of roaming in the woods after dark. She gulped and responded: “Father wouldn’t want us to stay after dark,” Kayle attempted to reason with her twin which only made Morgana giggle childishly, “Ha, I knew you were scared!”


“I am not!”


“You are!”


“Am not!”


“Are too!”


Kayle's face flushes red. Morgana knows she has angered her. Kayle always acted high and mighty but once the thought of darkness crosses her mind, she cowers and makes up excuses. Kayle knew if Morgana found out her fear of the dark, she would never let it go. Kayle sighs heavily and shudders by her next words: “Fine, I’ll play…”


Morgana jumped up and down, clapping her hands excitedly, “Good, I’ll hide and you’ll seek. Stand behind that tree and count to twenty,” she ordered, pointing her finger to the tree behind them covered in lichens. “And no peeking!”


Kayle did as she was told, she stood behind the tree and avoided to touch some of the bark, that was covered in the green material. She knew this would be difficult for her, but she could not have any fear. The white-haired girl cleared her throat and began to count to twenty out loud.


“One! Two! Three!.....”


Kayle could feel herself coming up out of deep sleep ...her eyelids seemed to be in slow motion as they opened her vision was a bit blurry as she waited for her eyes to focus and her mind to function.....she lifted her head to gain a better sight of where she was. Kayle felt a pounding, throbbing pain in her head, it was like a toothache in her brain. The pain was more intense right between the eyes, she was having a migraine, visual disturbances, excruciating, debilitating, soaring that was not fading any time soon. Kayle’s hand reached to touch her head but was stopped something that made a harsh metal clanking sound. Kayle looked down to her wrist and found them to be bounded by the chains that were attached to the cold stone prison floor. The sight of chains sent alertness before she attempted to fly away before the chains stopped her fly to escape. She attempted to move from her restraints but each move proved as unsuccessful as the last one, she was trapped in place. Kayle was breathing as she had just flown for her life, her chest rising and falling quickly like she was running out of oxygen. Her heart beating was beating fast like her heart was going to burst out of her chest any moment.


“No! I was captured!” Kayle screamed in her head. How could this have happened? Curse herself for failing! The angel couldn't help but compare the night with her own state of mind. Just like those clouds, her back felt like it were in chaos. A mess. Something was bothering her. Something was hurting her. Something ached inside her. Something felt so wrong, so invalid but Kayle couldn't tell what. She tried to pinpoint the cause for this unexplained pain but failed. The judicator tried to reason this unbearable burning but didn't find any. Everything felt so confused, just like a jumbled set of a puzzle. Then she thought back to where she was before. That’s right! She was flying towards the castle and was struck down by Emilia LeBlanc and some Yordle. They must have taken her to the location where she was being held now. Where was she?

The prison cell was barely six feet by four. The walls were the same thick grey stone as the dwellings of the region, but instead of a wide window with a flower box, there was a mean barred opening with thick metal bars and no glass. In the summer the fresher air was a relief, helping to alleviate the stench of festering sewage but in the cold seasons, it let in a wicked draft and reduced the temperature to near freezing. It was no brighter inside than the gathering gloom of dusk, even at midday. There was no bed for her to lay on even if she broke free of the chains, there was no mattress, no cushioning and not a single blanket in sight. That was all she could see through the darkness. It surrounded everything. It ate up everything in its path. It did not give Kayle any mercy as it destroyed her from the inside. It was either suffocatingly quiet or pierced with the screams of tortured inmates. She was not alone.


“Hello?” she called out, expecting to hear another voice instead of the screeching sound the inmates. The screams and cries of the other prisoners (who she assumed to be Demacians) rang through her ears like a bell in a repeated pattern.


“Glad to see, well, “hear” you awake, I had thought you were dead…” a familiar voice spoke to her in monotone.


Kayle’s eyes widen once the voice became recognizable, “Garen…?”


“Hello Kayle, I guess we are in the same boat now…” he laughed nervously in a failed attempt to make light of the situation.


Kayle was finding it difficult to make sense of the situation, everything blurred around her like a new world was being created right before eyes.


“How did...this happen?” she drawled discountenance about the whole situation she found herself in.


“After we escaped into the forest we were ordered by another soldier to cross into Ionia and build an alliance with them to retake the land we lost. After two months on the run, we were captured by Darius and his men inside a refugee camp. We were thrown into these cells and I previously shared a cell with Lux, but when they found out we were related they threw me in this one,” Garen explained in a sad and bitter tone.


Kayle listened intently but what bothered her the most was when Garen said two months. How long was she unconscious? The judicator knew since she was technically immortal she could spend a long time being unconscious whereas most humans would perish, but at the time like this, she knew she missed many important events.


“Wait...I was unconscious for two months?!” the angel said in disbelief, mainly to herself but Garen managed to hear her among the screams of the other prisoners.


“I was not aware of that...I only got here last week,” he replied.


“What will happen to us now? They will not continue to keep us locked in these prison for too long," the white-haired Demacian asked suddenly, completely ignoring Garen’s reply, but staring at the endless darkness before him Garen laid his back against the cell wall head down, as he abruptly became again wordless and reserved. Kayle waited for him to answer after a long moment of silence, as she asked now with more concerned voice: "Garen, you know what they will do to us, don’t you?”

After a pause, Kayle continued to wait for Garen in the other cell to answer as she repeated with a stronger voice now: "They will not execute us, if they were to do so then they would have already it. What are they going to do?"

Another pause followed, but this time the man broke it up with indecisive voice:

"You may find the answer unpleasant, Kayle."

"I would know it soon anyway if it is going to occur," the angel replied with fearless and concern in her voice. "Garen, just spare me at least the shock from the sentencing."

"I…." the brown haired man started hesitantly, as he clenched his fist. Garen was more than afraid of how his comrade would react to what she wanted to know.

"Garen, just inform me on the fate that will transpire whether you will tell me or not," Kayle said, sighing heavily in frustration. "I will find out either…"

"They found that any Demacian that were not killed in battle might benefit the empires….certain trade," he sharply interrupted the angel and said almost in one breath, as if otherwise he would change his mind. He could not see Kayle from the other cell but he could be certain of her reaction, as he started more indecisively: "a trade you have no say in…"

“Benefit certain trade….," the judicator whispered numbly, as she felt a painful shiver run through her entire body when she realized what Garen was speaking of. How could she not have foreseen it? Her fate was right before her eyes and still, she had completely shut her mind for it. But now it was clearer than ever; now it was screaming into her ears and demolishing all her senses; now when she knew what else had the day for her she felt weak, numb, pathetic, and horrified. They were going to be sold into slavery.


Suddenly, Kayle heard the metal clanking of keys being pushed around and pushed the heavy door open, as it slammed noisily onto the big stones behind it. The cell door opened. Upon the entrance, she managed to see three Noxian guards standing at her cell. One of the men was holding a lighted torch that gave timid shadows after the gray walls. It Kayle presented them with the inside view of the men. Her golden eyes widened with a mixture of anger, fury, and a great desire to kill the Noxian soldiers right there and then as she saw them amusingly smirking at her with lustful stares.


“I’ll take the angel bitch first, you lads get her nice and wet for me~” the soldier holding the torch said libidinously, not taking his off the Demacian for a second.


“Can we have a go at her too?” one asked licking his lips once his eyes fell on her.


“Of course.”


In an instant Kayle gathered all the strength she was capable of and squirmed and twisted the chains to the best of her ability with no success. Two of the soldiers pushed the Demacian to the wet floor and pulling her struggling hands up to stop her from struggling. The men reached for the collar of her robe in an attempt to undress her. The man's hands were close enough for her to bite. Kayle leaned forward and bite down on the soldier's hand, the man yelped in pain and harshly slapped the angel across the face.


“Such an animal! I expect nothing else from a Demacian!” the soldier snarled disgustedly, he slapped her once more. Kayle clenched her teeth from the recurring stinging pain on her cheek.


“An animal like her might like it rough, give it to her nice and hard!”


“No! Get your filthy hands off me this instant!” Kayle shrieked angrily, hitting as many of them as she could.


The soldiers were hastily trying to remove her prison rags but continued to struggle and strike the soldiers that reached for her genitals. she was changed into the poor white rags that all the prisoners were wearing. The only thought of having the filthy hands and leering gazes of those animals upon her made Kayle furious; as in the same time seeing herself pleasuring these sinners of Noxus made her sick to her stomach.


Garen, who was in the other cell heard what the men were intending to do with Kayle. He was horrified and disgusted that men that call themselves soldiers would rape a woman in a helpless situation. He thought of hearing the men moan as Kayle screamed, his lipped curled and his nostrils flared. His mind felt as if lead were coursing through it instead of blood. Garen continued to listen, he couldn't bear to sit in the cell as his comrade is being violated not too far from him. He had to something.


“You do know who she is, don’t you?!” Garen began hastily trying to gain the soldier's attention. It seemed to work. The soldier holding the torch walked out of the cell and stood in front of the one he was being held in. Garen crawled to the metal bars and gripped it, staring intensely at the man.


“Nothing more than a slave waiting to be sold now, I don’t give a fuck who that dumb bitch is,” the soldier spat on Garen.


Garen bit his lip in an attempt to not grab and kill the man, he had to save Kayle. “Exactly, she is a slave waiting to be sold. A strikingly beautiful woman such as herself should be kept pure,” Garen said defensively.


The soldier laughed haughtily, “Why would I pass up this chance to fuck her?”

“Kayle is an Angel as you can tell by her wings. She is more than any average Demacian woman, she could fetch a high price among eager buyers. As long as her honor remains unbesmirched, otherwise she would not be worth as much.” Garen explained to the soldier calm, yet determinedly. There was a pause. The soldier kept the same emotionless facial expression throughout the whole explanation, he could not determine if he had successfully persuaded the man. Garen spoke again: “Just think of all the gold you may get from her, it would be more than enough to go to a brothel and sleep with all the beautiful naked women there that certainly can fill your fantasizes more than she can. You’ll be as wealthy as a noble.”


The soldier's eyes lit up with greed. Greed will be a sword in his guts; the hand who twists it will be his own. Gold and riches will change the heart of any man that desires it, even a man that thinks with his cock. The man rubbed his chin and thought through Garen’s words. The soldier stepped back into the cell and called for the men inside:


“Get out of there at once!”


The other two soldiers quickly let go of the chained angel and stood up in place. They first appeared perplexed by the sudden change in their comrade, yet they followed his orders and left the cell. Once their footsteps fade away, Kayle relieved her tenses that were built prior. The tension that had kept her up since she ha reawakened melted into nothing. Her mind was on the tarmac, she was not going to get violated. With the adrenaline, she had been firing instructions for all that time, problem-solving and delegating that did not help her when she was in these situations. Kayle was kept kneeling on the prison floor, despite still being chained. Her body was unwinding now and her brain shutting down. It has passed by, no one was going to hurt her...right?


“I...appreciate your help, Garen…” Kayle stuttered, unaware of how to feel about the situation.


“You’re welcome, they will not harm you here…”


“How long will this go on?” she suddenly heard herself asking.


The silence was poison to them, for in that void of sound the shallowness of their conversation was laid bare. What used to be an intellectual banter of helping and beneficial moments was utterly vapid. It was recycled, re-hashed, garbage worthy of Noxus He did not know how to answer that question. There are plenty of Noxians that will pay to get their hand on them both, but who? And so Garen answered:


“I am unaware.”


Kayl’s golden eyes stared into the darkness as if she were in some kind of trance, she already missed the light that would caress her skin and she felt the bile rise in her throat. Each identical abyss gave her the same feeling of hopelessness and she was not the only one feeling this. There are so many Demacians suffering, there are many, but so delicate, and they cry like tomorrow is not guaranteed. They shout, soaking in their despair and taking in the aftermath of the war through their fine mind. Kayle wanted to protect these people, throw a force-field over it but even her power was draining from these chains that blocked her powers and how could she justify using it on these powers that move in the light - a living angel of light. She would find justification through the smallest cracks of reason. Kayle can sense their lost sense of hope, will she ever see hope in these people like this again? It is always transitory to the Demacians and their lost ways that she tried to revive them from but before Kayle always believed it would return in due course. Now she can barely think about them without welling up, each Demacian is a fine work of art towards the ideals of justice, something she couldn't create in a thousand lifetimes that she has lived for. But progress knows no sentiment it seems and love of her homeland is a weakness Kayle cannot afford. No one was coming to save them.




How long has it been? Three days? Four days? It was either three or four, she forgot. Kayle sat in a cell, the boredom was killing her. All she heard was the taunting voice of a soldier and the constant cries of the prisoners. In out of pure boredom, she began to think back of her childhood in Demacia


The ant flow across the concrete like an oil spill from her father's old shack; marching as orderly as an army with a column to the food source and one back again. Kayle should just be filled with wonder she guesses, that these insignificant insects with mush for brains can accomplish this task but she was not. The day is stretching before Kayle like a prairie road into the horizon and the Demacian can't be bothered to walk it. But she can't fast-forward time either. Kayle wants instead to go back in time to the time of the day when she did not go with her father on his fishing trip, she told him it was a stupid sport and there were better things to do with his time, which he laughed in response. She was expecting fireworks but all she got was a laugh, her father went on the fishing trip with Morgana. Kayle wished she could have changed her mind in time and joined them on their trip. Nothing's going to change either until the next time she finds the opportunity. So now  Kayle intends to mess with this column; break it with barriers, crush some of them, see if she can make them go in a circle.

Two hours later, Kayle’s father and twin sister returned from their fishing trip with a large sum of fish they caught. It was impressive the amount and the variety they managed to get in that time. Kayle pretended to not notice their arrival and continued to mess with the column.


"So.Bored." Kayle pace the length of the front yard. Her steps slowly slowing down. Morgana eyes her twin from the post she was near on the other side of the yard and rolls her purple eyes. "Entertain yourself."




"I don’t know, just do something."




"Eat something." Kayle nods at her twin and turned to the mint leaves growing in the garden. She drags herself towards it, her stomach growling for food. After she picked up the mint leaf she sat back down, bored again.


Kayle found it strange whenever her mind was bored she immediately recalls past memories of her boredom. Boredom kills. There she was flapping her wings against the restraints repetitively just to get some new sound, staring out of the torch lit cell, wishing she was anywhere but here. Her twin was roaming free among the Noxians. She wondered what Morgana would think of her if she saw the situation she was in? Kayle stopped herself from continuing that thought, she would not think of her treacherous twin sister, she would not spare a thought to Morgana. She wished she could speak to Garen, these past few days he was the best company she had. Unfortunately, yesterday three Noxian guards dragged him and his sister out of their cells and took them away. He had not returned to his cell ever since. The judicator did not wish to believe he was executed. The thought had unsettled her. More than that. In fact, the whole thought had been so gruesome she had puked her guts out. Not at the time itself, of course. Only later, she was alone with her thoughts with no guards bothering her. It would have been very unwise to show such emotion in front of the guards.


It still bothered Kayle that they would all be sold into slavery. Rumor has it the nobles will earn the first pick before the rest are auctioned off. But the white-haired woman wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about this new slave status. Mostly, she was just fearful. She wished whoever her master was would not be cruel towards her. And also what she herself had not been capable of. When push came to shove, Kayle hadn’t been able to cut the corner. It was insufferable, this terrible weakness that dwelled within her. It crippled her. Made her unfit to thrive in this new world. The Judicator wasn’t sure how aware the Noxians was of her predicament, but she knew she had to get rid of it. And soon. Or her life could become very difficult in the future. Little did Kayle know the hell she would endure with her future owner...


Today was the day, the nobles had been asked to assemble at the Immortal Bastion for an official slave trade instead of an auction. The nobles would have the first pick before a chance at an auction for the rest of them. It had been a gloomy day in the cells, but when the nobles arrived to chose their slaves, that was when the real hell began. The hallways of the cells were lit with bright torches that did hurt the angles eyes for the first time she saw it. Kayle couldn’t help being shocked at seeing her old comrades again. They were in such a state that some of them were barely recognizable. After months in the Noxus dungeons, they had become mere shadows of themselves, their faces pale and fallen. Their spirit had been broken.


“This side is where the more dangerous prisoner is kept, of course with the collar around their necks they are hardly a threat," a guard said, as a group of noble buyers was lead down the hall. It was only then Kayle realized she was wearing a slave collar. “Of course they are Demacian. Unfit to live in our world, safe to serve us.” He smiled. “All the information has been extracted out of the useful ones. So today, I share the spoils of our war with you, you shall receive the first offerings before the auctions. Each may choose one of these pests, to do with as they please. A slave to kill, to torture, to rape, or just to keep in servitude until the day they die.”

An excited murmur went through the group. Kayle could hear some laughter among the nobles as they exchanged what each plan to do with their slaves, she could not see them but she heard them clear enough. The judicator stomach cringed when she imagined what will happen once they stop to her cell.

Kayle gulped, she knew it was going to happen sooner or later, all she can do now is hope she does not end up with someone hellish. She looked down to see the rags she was in, her white hair was tangled and her face filthy (she didn’t need a mirror to know that). Her exposed arms and legs showed fresh scars from the treatment she had been given over the last few months, her beautiful wings were the only thing spared from harm. Kayle was too aware she was feeling nothing but fear. Fear of what is to come. She never felt this afraid before, why was she so scared? The knuckles on her hands were white that were clasped against her chains.

“Here we have Sona: Maven of the strings. We learned she is mute but is an excellent player at any instrument given one-thousand gold pieces.” the trader began.

Sona was brought forward. She looked at her feet as Draven stepped forward and bought her.


“She has an amazing pair,” Draven snickered, examining her large breast with glee in his eyes. The executioner seemed particularly pleased with his prize. Draven thanked the slave trader extensively as a collar was put around Sona’s neck and she was led off with Draven out the door.

Fiora was next. She went up for five-thousand gold pieces due to her family background, which Vladimir seemed more than eager to buy her. Sion bought Poppy for four-hundred gold pieces and left without much of a word. Cassiopeia bought Vayne for three-thousand gold pieces. Talon was gifted Shyvana from General Du Couteau (who paid one-thousand gold coins for), though Talon did not seem very eager to have a slave as much as his fellow Noxians did. Lastly, Elise bought Quinn for two-thousand gold pieces.

Kayle pressed her face against the bar of the cell and had trouble keeping the look of revulsion from her face. She had seen a lot of deaths lately, mainly for guards killing the prisoners. She did not like them, she believed in justice but these deaths seemed more like a cruel joke to these Noxians. Perhaps their death would serve as a better fate than this? Yet seeing her comrades being dragged off by their collars like dogs filled her with a sense of shame. Kayle felt awkward. Exposed, somehow. After a few minutes she noticed all the nobles were gone, she was not bought.

The stillness in the cell almost scared the judicator. Perhaps it is the cold air making her skin so pale, of the lack of wind letting every hair hang without movement, Kayle was not sure. She did not even blink, just kept her golden eyes on the cell as if it whispers secrets to her. Why did she feel….dread?


Suddenly, the slave trader stopped by the cell Kayle was in, a man with a scar going through his right eye and appeared to be all muscle with an evil glint of in his eye exited lead the figure to the cell.


"I heard you were interested in buying a slave? I assume your lover had invited you to be among the first to purchase a slave?" he started talking to a feminine figure that Kayle could not see all too well. Upon a closer look, Kayle realized it was...oh gods!


It was Emilia LeBlanc. The matron of "The Black Rose".


"Yes, I was looking forward to obtaining the Crownguard girl, yet it appears Du Couteau has possession of her, " LeBlanc said disappointingly, she had a cold look in her eyes, almost like she was without emotion, she was wearing an expensive black dress and the cape on her back which highlighted her curves in all the right places perfectly and she wore what almost resembles a crown that she always wore on her head and the staff her carried, seeming like she was of royalty.


"Well, we've been trying to get rid of one of the girls in here for a while now but…let's just say even the guards stay away from her," he admitted.


“One with spirit?"


"Yeah and lots of it but she will obey," he replied despite knowing Kayle would never.


"Perfect, I do enjoy the spirited ones. It has been getting quite mundane in the manor lately and I do need a little excitement. Let me see her," she instructed waving her hands forward for the slave trader to open the cell.


"If you're sure," he said as he opened the cell door, none of his men went near that slave anymore, beside him, revealed a winged young woman with white hair, pale skin, and bright golden eyes, her wrists chained behind her back and linked to her collar, her feet were also chained together and her arms were restricted against her back by a metallic chest plate which was chained to her wings making it impossible for her to move wings, arms and any form of resistance impossible.


"Quite a lot of restraints for such a little angel,” the sorceress mused, smirking at the Demacian.


"Yeah, tell me about it, we scanned her power and it was off the scale on top of that she's no light weakling when it comes to a physical brawl" he grunted.


“She cost twenty-thousand gold pieces,” the trader reminded.


“My, my, she must be special~”


“Angel slaves are a rarity, ma’am.”


"I was under the impression you said she will obey so why keep her restrained?" LeBlanc questioned.


"For good measure," he replied.


The purple haired Noxian looked down at Kayle with disgust, amusement, and malice like she was nothing but a bug just waiting to be squashed, they made eye contact and her icy glare was met with a fiery rage and darkness then knew no bounds.


"Oh and you must be sure you really want this one, she is an animal," he warned when he saw they had made eye contact.


"Yes, you must be that winged Demacian I captured during the last battle. What is your name again, slave?” LeBlanc asked, smirking at the girl haughty, Kayle remained silent.


"Speak or I'll be forced to punish you,” the sorceress warned as she tapped on her staff on the floor, seconds later, several hundred volts were sent throughout Kayle's body, the collar made it so she would feel the pain but it wouldn't be lethal unless the safety was removed, so Kayle survived it. But LeBlanc had not even purchased the judicator yet and she still decided to cause her harm.


Kayle gritted her teeth, arching her back, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt nothing but pain thunder throughout her body, LeBlanc released the spell she cast and the Demacian fell forward onto her knees before the chains held her back up, her body smoking slightly.


"Your name?" LeBlanc asked again, still finding amusement in the angel's pain. “Or does ‘slave’ soothe your ears more?”


"My name is...Kayle and you must be a fool to be under the assumption I will submit to you!" she snarled, her white bangs hiding her eyes, she began to move her wrists and wings, testing how strong her restraints were and like always she couldn't break them, yet.



LeBlanc’s purple lips transferred in a grin filled with evil intent that made Kayle wish she had been killed on the battlefield. Her amber eyes were filled with endless possibilities of what she plans to do with the judicator, the closest look Kayle can decipher as maleficence.



"I’ll take her.”

Chapter Text

LeBlanc watched as the carriage pulled up to the front of the estate. She smiled slightly as she stepped lightly from her carriage and watched as the driver pulled the leash from Kayle's collar from the rear of the carriage. The sorceress stepped forward. "I will take that,” she said of the chained slave. The driver deposited the leash to the woman with a wicked smirk on her face, watching this all happen made Kayle shudder further, what little did she know what this woman had planned for her. "You may take your leave,” LeBlanc instructed the driver of the carriage. The man nodded and bowed his head before taking the carriage and leaving. The dark mage tugged the leash which pulled Kayle closer to her. The judicator looked down at her feet, avoiding eye contact with the Noxian, her face was flushing red now in embarrassment.

LeBlanc noticed it and smirked, she never took the angel as a shy. She ignored the lack of eye and walked towards the manor, pulling the leash for her slave to follow behind her. Kayle slightly looked up and saw the way the matron walked, shoulders back, yet eyes faced forward; it was as if LeBlanc saw herself as superior, it would not have come much of a surprise to Kayle if she did believe that. The angel's eye falls onto the manor before her.

The Manor grew out of the manicured lawn like an infant castle. It's nascent stone walls were a dark grey and were barren of the ivy that clung to the walls of the older homes in the village. Its large oak door was double wide and was sheltered under a wide porch supported by stone pillars. The driveway was grandiose, sweeping into a wide circle in front of the dwelling with an ornate fountain in the center. The walls grew from the manicured lawn into an abode so large it had "wings" and more windows than a casual glance could count. Everything about it said expensively built, inside and out. LeBlanc leads her slave inside the manor. The hallways are dark marble floors and white walls, not a handprint or scuff mark anywhere. The stairs ahead were twisted in a perfect spiral like a child's Slinky toy pulled from each end. Each stair was likely a deep walnut, but with the thick layer of undisturbed dust, it was hard to tell. The inner edge was painted antique cream, and when Kayle disturbed the dust layer the paint was quite perfect underneath; no dirt and no flaking or dents. The entire room had priceless artifacts of strange origins that Kayle dared not to question.

LeBlanc walked easily up the stair. At the door, a figure that Kayle could not decipher was waiting with eyes open wide. "Welcome back, Mistress. I see you have bought a new slave," the figure said bowing before the woman.

Kayle tilted her head behind the sorceress to get a better view of the servant. In the fading watery light of the near end of the nearest window, Kayle's eyes widen like they were going to pop out of her socket. At first, she believed her eyes were deceiving her when the figure moved she knew it all too real. The servant was a gargoyle. The gargoyles clung to the shadows by the stairs. Standing instead of the crutched like gargoyles would, they were appeared to be grotesque. Eyes bulged, angelic wings, over-sized ears were unnaturally pointed and the grins evoked notions of sadistic pleasure. Hunched, disfigured and leering downward toward their mistress like they were as cold as the Noxian they served. The judicator saw many of the creature cleanings around the manor, at least from the view where she was standing, they were all servants of LeBlanc. But when Kayle looked down in the half-light of the evening, they simply reminded her to guard against the blacker parts of her nature; that we all have a little demon inside and it's up to her to keep it as impudent as those gargoyles. The gargoyle lifted itself up, it was rather short, only being half the size of the two women standing before it and wore a straight expression on its beastly face.

"I had previously informed all of you that I had the intention to do so," LeBlanc drawled buoyantly. "Follow me, Pierre, I need your assistance." She instructed the gargoyle and moved toward the staircase to the second level of the manor with Kayle. "I should like to have her trussed up, especially those wings of hers."

Those words flood through Kayle's system like fear, It pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. Kayle would have thought her heart will explode and her eyes are wide with fear. The angel's body wants to either fly fast for the safety outside the manor or to the crate of weaponry, but instead she is chained to remain where she is. Kayle tested the strength of her restraints, she did not have other options besides escaping: Pray LeBlanc will not harm her. Kayle wanted to take one great of the stairs and fly away from the Noxians.

"Yes, My lady," Pierre said as he quickly followed his mistress behind her slave. The doors are a glossy black, numbered with silver digits that match the globe-shaped handles. It isn't just the materials though, it's the dimensions, the width being at least twice that of anything the angel has ever seen. The halls are dressed in black and white and the tiles are a checkerboard with the gargoyles roaming as the pieces. The whole manor sends a chill down the judicators spine and reminds her of something out of her childhood nightmares. Not that she feared them anymore. She did not wish to be here, being a slave to the Matron of the Black rose, Kayle flinched at the thought and tried to wrap her arms around her chilled body; the chains stopped her. This is the last place she wanted to be. Unfortunately, it is her fault she was here, her doing, it was her fault she failed to protect her kingdom and deliver justice, there is no going back now. Hesitantly, she followed LeBlanc and the gargoyle named Pierre down the hall. The purple-haired Noxian stopped by a door. The door was a polished wooden door that looked to be handcrafted vine designs by master craftsmanship. Kayle tensed nervously but did her best to not show it, this must have been LeBlanc’s bedroom. The sorceress closed her fingers around it to twist.

Kayle looked inside the room in amazement. A king-size bed with violet silk bedcover. Quite a lovely shade of purple and feathery and high was it; one window curtained with a square of starched dark purple cotton cloth that drew over the window by means of a purple cord on which it was run at the top which exposed the balcony. A large, and on the wall was an old-fashioned gilt mirror; a small splint-bottomed chair and large braided Shuriman style carpets. There was more to view in the room but before Kayle could, LeBlanc roughly grabbed the judicator by the collar and threw her on the large bed.

The Matron dropped the girl unceremoniously on her bed. Kayle’s wings hit the silken mattress. Her cheeks were pressed to the cool, violet pillows. The comforter was thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud. She toppled onto it, fearful of what might occur next.

"I want her down to her prison chemise." the Noxian ordered her gargoyle servant. Kayle’s golden eyes widened, breaths were ragged and harsh. Her hands trembled against her chains, was LeBlanc planning to do what she thought she did. Surely the sorceress would not dare to touch in such an inappropriate manner.

"To her chemise, my lady?" Pierre was rather surprised his mistress had not ordered the Demacian striped down to her skin.

"Yes, to her chemise." LeBlanc stood back, watching the slaves expression.

"Quickly, Pierre." she snapped. "It would be unpleasant if her chains came undone."

The gargoyle turned to his mistress and nodded. He had to hop on the bed as he was not tall enough to do it properly. "Excuse me, ma’am," He said to Kayle as he began to undress the angel. Kayle gritted her teeth and held back the desire to kill the gargoyle, her chest was rising and falling rapidly. LeBlanc smirked, the slave was clearly afraid and she did a horrible job at masking it. Moments later, Pierre paused and turned back to his mistress. "You want her in or out of the robe?"

"In." LeBlanc said having removed her own cape and staff, she set it aside on the bed "The idea of ripping her out of it is delightful, nevertheless will have to wait for another time. Besides, I can force her to entertain me dressed in something more pleasurable at a later date."

Kayle’s eyes widen by LeBlanc’s remarks. Another time? What exactly were her intentions currently? Kayle knew whatever it was she would surely not enjoy it.

"How long do you plan on keeping the slave?" Pierre asked in surprise. "I assumed your intentions were to buy a slave, pillage her, and…." the gargoyle trailed off before stopping the sentence once his stone eyes met the gold fearful ones of the judicator. “I apologize for questioning your intentions, mistress,” Pierre quickly apologized, keeping his head down in shame.

"You are forgiven, nevertheless you are correct," the purple-haired mage agreed to watch as her stone servant removed the layers of the prisoner robes. "However, this one is immortal, she will surely last longer than the previous slaves."

The shock ricochets up her skeleton, which is almost all that is left of her once a lithe and athletic frame. She cannot fathom the thought that LeBlanc had previous slaves. The enormous engulfing terror that made her so sick, in her mind and body, has become her everyday normal.

“I believe we should discuss this further outside the room,” LeBlanc said, staring the slave chained to the bed. It would spoil the surprise if Kayle overheard what she planned to do.

“Yes, my lady.”


"What changed it, if I may ask?" Pierre asked, shutting the door behind him.

"She is a virtue," LeBlanc said with reverence.

"She is what?" Pierre had no education before his servitude and had no idea of what his mistress had just said.

The purple haired Noxian tapped her finger on her lips, trying to find the perfect word, "Ripe."

"Ripe?" The gargoyle blinked again.

"Ripe, Pure…a virtue…"

"A virtue?" The servant frowned.

"She is immortal. Think of all I can inflict on her without the risk of death," LeBlanc said, at last, smiling deviously at the thought.

The stone beast backed up. "You mean like that dark angel that joined the black rose some months ago?"

"Yes, Morgana her name is. The slave in the bedroom is her twin sister, her name is Kayle.” the sorceress answered, looking at the door as if she could see through it.

“Not for long I assume,” Pierre looked at LeBlanc with misgivings.

"Correct you are, Pierre," she said with a theatrical flourish.

"Why not just have at her, and toss her in a dungeon, let her wake up having been used?" the gargoyle stared at his mistress confusingly, LeBlanc thought of the perfect words to explain to the gargoyle, she explained: "Pierre, I could do that, but then I would be missing the fun of torturing her. There is little fun in having one's way with an unconscious female… Not that I have not done that with the previous slaves…No, far better to take by force from a fully conscious and fighting slave." Leblanc paused chuckling at the fantasy she imagined. "I want her to be wide awake. I want her to know, to feel, to see….when I rape her endlessly and the blood flowing between her legs would surely please me more."

"Seems vicious, mistress" Pierre commented quietly.

"No more vicious than my previous experience," LeBlanc said her voice rising in anger, but not towards her servant.

“If she is immortal then you will have no mercy on her,” he stated, frowning slightly.

LeBlanc clicked her tongue, “Correct, there are many things I wished to try on previous slaves. It was unfortunate how soon they perished,” she sighed with no sympathy in her tone before continuing, "I was very fortunate to buy this slave instead of the Crownguard girl."

“I see...what are my next orders, mistress?” the gargoyle bowed, awaiting his orders.

“See to it we are not disturbed,” LeBlanc ordered monotone.

“Yes, my lady.”


Kayle’s eyes flutter making a groggy noise, she was waiting for LeBlanc to return. Her vision blurry as her eyes roam more and more around the room. The judicator tried to sit up, a sharp pain coming from her chest from the chains. "Where is..." Kayle asked out loud puzzled, she had not seen the sorceress for a few minutes now, not that she wanted to. She slid her feet over the bed scooting herself off touching the cold wooden floor, it sent shivers up her spine and wings.

Pursing her lips together, Kayle slowly gets more and more worried as time ticked by. Until getting startled by loud noises outside the room. Did it sound like.... footsteps? The angel's nerves got the best of her when the steps got closer she tensed but tried to hide her fear the best she could. Kayle tried to control her breathing but it only made it worse. Until she heard a key hit the doorknob and heard it turn to unlock it, the white-haired angel stopped breathing all together light pouring into the room. Kayle bites down hard on her lip losing oxygen in her lungs, it must have been LeBlanc. The judicator becomes anxious as her body starts to panic not knowing why she was not breathing. So it took matters in its own hands throwing the cover off of the angel gasping through her mouth to make up for the air she had lost. Kayle rose her chained hands and covered her mouth.

“It must be her…” Kayle thought to herself... moving her golden eyes to the corner to see who was standing at the door. Eyes shooting open at the sight of the feminine figure, already knowing it was her. LeBlanc was standing there smiling at her with this taunting satisfied look on her face.

"Well, I apologize for the inconvenience," she chuckled still standing a great distance from the slave. “My, my what a beautiful thing on my bed, all pure and chained up. I must thank Jericho for his suggestion to purchase a slave," LeBlanc cackled more at the Demacians own misery. Kayle rose her head, giving the Noxian woman a hateful and prideful look. She would not lose herself to this deceiver.

"Are you livid at me? Do you need my attention?" LeBlanc asked mockingly, she took a step closer to the slave, Kayle give the sorceress her full attention not wanting the matron anywhere near her. Kayle abruptly jumped off the bed to the best of her abilities on the other side of the bed getting as far as the chain would let her.

"Keep your distance far from me!" Kayle shouted courageously at the Noxian, struggling at her binds hoping it would break. The sorceress chuckled at the judicators futile attempts. She crawled on the bed and stared at the Demacian with her soulless amber eyes, LeBlanc shook her head and clicked her tongue disappointingly at Kayle, "Tsk, tsk. Fine... I will not come to you. What owner would allow themselves to come to their slave…? "

Her words and gaze trailed off to look at the chain, she grinned sinisterly: "You shall come to me!"

LeBlanc snapped her fingers and in an instant, Kayle felt a heavy force of the chains pulling her towards LeBlanc, it must have been her magic that was controlling the chains all this time. The angel attempted to resist pulling back on it shaking her head, "No! No! I will not!"

Kayle struggles against the magic was in vain, she close enough to the Noxian to roughly grab her, LeBlanc pulls the angel on the bed with her, pinning her back and wings to the large bed. “Slave, you should be aware when you attempt to fight only brings about for me to...ravage you, even more,~" LeBlanc’s smile got so large her white teeth showed. Staring at purple haired matron this close only brought back the horrible feeling of what might occur, Kayle would not let her fear show her weakness. Her anger and pride build up and she spits in the Noxians face, LeBlanc first stared in astonishment then gave the expression of displeasure, taking one hand away from her shoulder to wipe it away. Kayle smiled and saw her a moment of advantage, the angel pushed her head back then sprung it forward to LeBlanc’s head, headbutting the sorceress with such force that blood began to trickle down both their heads. LeBlanc grasp her forehead and grunted in pain, the chains that kept her bounded began to come undone, she was free. The Noxian fell off the bed, giving Kayle the opportunity to escape. The judicator stretched her wings out and flew off the bed. Kayle perked up with happiness running toward her only freedom, flying through the door with ease.

Kayle kicked the door shut behind her, knowing that psychopathic mage would be following her out. A smile on the angels faces with the thought of escaping and freeing her comrades washed over her thoughts. An agitating chuckle of Emilia LeBlanc echoed through the hallway of the manor: “Dear, why do you even bother?”

Kayle hitched her breath and her muscles stiffen in fear and frozen in place but filled with such a tingling pressure Kayle wings were finding it difficult to fly further down the hall. Her head back the door making sure LeBlanc had not walked out the door, but as soon as she turned her head back straight her whole body stopped along with her mind, all Kayle could do was widen her eyes in sheer terror. In front of her, what you were flying right into stood pure darkness down the halls. It surrounded everything down the halls and whispers the unknown that lurked within it. It ate up everything in its path. It did not give Kayle any mercy as it destroyed her from the inside. The endless pure abyss stares back at the angel as if it had eyes to judge her immortal soul. As the darkness was about to drag her straight to hell, Kayle stopped herself her bare skin skidding against the carpeted floor, heels getting skinned up. Losing her balance due to her wings did not wish to work with her fear. Kayle fell back on the floor and shook in fear, “The light is gone, someone is watching me in there, someone is in there, I can not see in there, I can not go further...” Kayle's eyes were fixed on the darkness that lurked further down the hallway, ignoring the pain due to the darkness staring her down with the unknown that Kayle can not describe, it was so horrible, it felt as if she met her end. The abyss was intimidating, Kayle wings flapped slowly as she felt her feet about to touch the floor. Flying backward Kayle began to mutter to herself: “ not..scared” she stuttered. Her wings flying backward were dragging her closer to the ground when she heard a taunting voice speaking to her: “Afraid of the dark now, are we?”

Kayle could not tell whether the voice came from LeBlanc or not. Kayle envisioned the darkness taking the form of a hand and reaching out to her, the white-haired Demacian let out a scream turning around flapping her wings as hard as she could to the opposite way, passing the door where she just left seeing a window at the end of the hall that she would gladly jump through no matter how high, her wings would surely pick her up. Kayle was about to make it when she saw another darkness coming into her view, it was a heavy shadow down the hall instead of pure darkness. Kayle tried to come to her senses but her thoughts scattered and the pain that washed over like a wave in her head, trying to focus on anything else besides the darkness that engulfed her mind with endless torment. The judicator did not know whether this was influenced by LeBlanc’s magic or her fear of the darkness was worse than she thought. Kayle gripped the white roots of her hair and screamed in fear, she rapidly shook her and ran into the room closest to her without much logical thinking, fear tends to do. Closing the door behind her, Kayle pressed her back against it, crying her eyes out curling up in a ball with her angel wings hugging her "Why do I fear such a crude thing…?" she asked herself but did not expect an answer, "this is unworthy!”

Kayle grunted angrily at herself, this was imperfections, this was unjust, this was pathetic! Kayle’s wings surrounded her, hugging herself as her family once did. Feeling something tickle her arm, the judicator ignored it thinking it was a cobweb or bug continuing her self pity. Until feeling multiple dark forces like things wrap around her ankle, wrist, waist, neck, and wings lifting her up in the air. The one around her neck was blocking the air, making it hard to breathe. Kayle struggled once more and found herself pulled closer to a desk she did not even notice coming in, in the black chair behind the giant desk was an older man with long white-greyish hair sat in a wooden leather chair, his face was pale with a shaven face and red eyes, staring at her with little to no emotion or thought. His lift arm was glowing red and appeared like that of the arm of a demon. It still ran down her cheeks not being able to say anything due to the grip around her neck. Once Kayle’s gold eyes fell onto his red ones she gasped, he was Grand General Jericho Swain. He spoke in a soothing cold voice: "Ah, you must be Emilia’s slave." His deep voice rolled off like cold water downstream. Kayle did not wish to answer, she could not even answer with the dark energy that held her by the throat and wings.

“Not one for conversation, I assume?” he mused coldly, “No matter, surely Emilia will once she explains this situation…”

“That feebly minded slave will surely be punished for such disobedience!” LeBlanc thought to herself, rubbing her bruised head from their earlier encounter. "Those wings of hers are quite problematic," she growled under her breath looking both ways down the hall, her amber eyes looked to the right again spotting two gargoyles cleaning the hall in front of Swain's office "Hmm," the matron walked down the hall toward them, once they noticed their mistress they both stopped their work and bowed, "Where is the slave?” LeBlanc demanded coldly. Both of the gargoyles pointed their stone fingers to Swain's office "We saw a winged woman fly into masters office, my lady."
One of the gargoyles explained.

LeBlanc nodded to the servant to continue their work. Opening the door to her lover's office making her way inside hoping that Jericho had not disposed of Kayle. LeBlanc looked in front of her silently gasping laying her eyes on a sight that caught her even off guard. It was Kayle sitting on Swain's lap, her mouth covered with one of his demons binds along with a couple more of them restraining her. Swain was stroking Kayle’s white hair through his red demonic fingers, she was staring on the floor tensing by each touch. Questions and accusation flowed through LeBlanc’s mind before she could ask Swain had interrupted her:

"No, I have not done anything. I found her in my office and took care of the matters,” he answered mechanically without staring at her.

LeBlanc heaved a sigh of relief, "I appreciate that you found the slave girl..." Swain tilted his head raising his hand that was playing with Kayle’s hair, signaling his lover to stop. "No need to be so sincere. I know I warned you this would happen but once you properly address her means to escape I am certain you will not be having any more troubles." He let out a chuckle, his demonic energy started to move to pick up Kayle off of his lap bringing her to the sorceress dropping the judicator in front of her owner. Kayle’s gold eyes were wide and bloodshot she was shaking furiously. LeBlanc looked up to her lover who motioned her to leave "Go now, you have a very cute slave there and you need to get her out of my sight before I change my mind of just handing her back over to you," Swain spun around in his chair to make the back face them. LeBlanc turned as well heading out with Kayle following numbly behind her.

LeBlanc harshly pulled Kayle by her collar that was attached to her leash and lead her through the hallway. At first, Kayle suspected she would take her back to the room and punish her there but they passed it, LeBlanc was not taking her to the room? Then where? After a silent trip down one of the stairs and few more turns in the many hallways in the manor, LeBlanc stopped in front of a metal rusted door. The sorceress snapped her fingers and the door opened with ease, exposing the set of grey stoned stair only lighted by the endless line of torches that showed the bottom of what appeared to be dungeons. Kayle looked at the woman on guard, as if expecting an attack she knew that was to come. LeBlanc casually walked behind the judicator and grasped her shoulders, in an instant she pushed Kayle forward and shoved her down the steep set of stairs.

The air pushed against Kayle’s face, she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Kayle sensed her neck muscles straining as her head arched back in the path of downward stairs that hit her first. The world rushes by in a blur and the angel knew the pain was coming. It goes by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. The impact on the stairs as Kayle continued to topple over the next ones making her body fall further and further down the stair. Kayle felt her bones move in a way they shouldn't jangle. Despite her vision being blurry as she was stilling falling down the stair, she knew there is blood seeping from skin that seconds ago was smooth. Seconds later, there was a final ‘thud’ and the Demacian found herself laying on the cold floors of the dungeons.

Her torso was no longer there, anchoring her wings to the ground. Where even were her wings? She flapped them and in an instant, a wave of pain crashed over her back. The judicators gold eyes were now open all the way like someone was prying her eyelids apart. She attempted to contort her body to a position where she could turn her head to see what was beneath her - dark grey stone floor. Kayle could now slightly move her body with the company of pain. There was her abdomen, splayed out ahead of her. Kayle was unable to make out the edges of her waist because of the fluttering of her white robe drenched in blood, from her fall. ‘Push' was the more appropriate word, LeBlanc had pushed her down the steep set of stairs. The realization had dawned. She could feel nothing but an aching pain that returned worse each second. Kayle, chest tightening, breath speeding, managed to stare at the figure standing smugly in front of her.

“My, my you really are immortal~” LeBlanc libidinously mused. Drinking in the view of Kayle covered in blood.

The matron began to tug on the collar harshly and drag the slave to a nearby cell, Kayle was gasping and choking from her neck being suffocated by the collar pulling her. Kayle found herself in the middle of the cell, laying damned and bloodied. LeBlanc took in a deep breath and let it out looking Kayle in the eyes, "I believe you are aware of what is to come." the judicator closed her eyes biting down on her lip "I am becoming quite concerned that you will manage to successfully escape the next time freedom to opportune….seems punishment is necessary..." the purple haired Noxian smiled knowing what she was going to do to her. Kayle moved slightly and hugged her beautiful white wings over her body like some shield, she stared at the sorceress with bitter hatred gleaming in her eyes.

"Only the divine can pass judgment! A sinful Noxian such as yourself shall never know what the path of light may bound, Emilia LeBlanc!" she spat with the utmost pride in her tone, the mage was still surprised that after the fall she could still talk with such pride. LeBlanc tilted her head and smirked, kneeling before Kayle and placing her hands on her knees pushing them down. Making the judicator way down weaseling her way on top of the angel, looking down at her in a smug manner, "I am pleased you still have some spirit left in you, I feared the fall would have destroyed you. Judgment will be given to those with power and you, my slave, have no power.” LeBlanc licked her lips, her eyes filled with lust and saw Kayle’s eyes strike with fear.

"L-LeBlanc...Why do you stare at me like this....?"

Chapter Text

"L-LeBlanc...Why do you stare at me like this....?"

LeBlanc turned and looked at the bloodied and bruised manacled angel. She watched the facial expression the judicator made: prideful, anger, and fear. Kayle’s head moved slowly side to side. A moaning sound broke the silence within the dungeons and then her eyes shot a hateful glance at the sorceress. Kayle lays in the middle of a tiny room on her stomach with her hands bidden, Kayle is left wearing a torn white gown that other slave women were given before being handed off to their owner. Her white beautiful angelic wings were also chained so that the Demacian wouldn’t try to hit her mistress, but LeBlanc will take care of that. The Noxian mage not going to give her a chance to object, to be saved because it won’t matter which way she chooses because tonight, right now, she’s only here for LeBlanc, here in Runeterra to tempt her, and if the judicator might die tonight, LeBlanc might as well make the best of her. LeBlanc inches closer, and her eyes widen in fear at the look of lust on the woman's face. But there's nowhere she can go; she tugs at her binds ineffectually. LeBlanc then proceeds to straddle the Demacians back, her wings were merely a few inches away from the mage.

“I want to be sure to hear this, a Demacians scream are a music to my ears~” The Noxian mage mused, she let out a sinister chuckle. The mage raises her magic staff, after a purple glowing light had flashed a dagger lay cold in the woman’s hands. It was short at four inches but so sharp even the most gentle of touches to flesh would result in a free bleeding cut. Its handle was carved mahogany and looked old, it must have been an ancient Noxian dagger.

What are you doing?” the Demacian spat, her teeth gridded in disgust by the older woman’s closeness.

Kayle’s head turned to the side just enough to see the woman held up the dagger with a cruel grin on her face. The sharp edge of the dagger brushed against the white feathers of her wings, the Demacian shivered by the cold edges of the blade touching her, her golden eyes widen and then she panics.

The white-haired Demacian frantically struggles against her binds, tugging, twisting, and moving in all direction to get away from the Noxian woman straddling her. LeBlanc just sat there in amusement, watching the judicators struggle in vain, but these chains are bonded by LeBlanc’s magic, the slave will not be escaping. After a few more minutes Kayle realized she cannot break the chains, she turned her head back to her owner with angry and tear-filled eyes.

"I believe it is time to pass judgment, slave~," LeBlanc said holding her shoulder back against the floor. Terror filled the fair eyes; she tried to cry out and could not. Tried to hit the sorceress with her wings and found it bound, tried to move her arms and no luck there either, the chains made a rattling sound the seized each of Kayle’s movements. She looked at the older woman then, moved her head from side to side, denial in her eyes.

"Finished?" LeBlanc asked with a hint of sarcasm. Resting her body on top of the bounded angel she smiled, ferally she eyed her prey. "How lovely you look on the floor, bound and afraid, my dear." She purred. "I have seen few who could match your loveliness." LeBlanc bent down closer and whispered in her ear: "Is there anything more atrocious, then the thought of an angel of ideal, or one who thinks herself an angel of ideals, being mistreated, assaulted and molested?" She paused at the sound of Kayle’s whimpering. LeBlanc snickered mockingly: "You do hide behind your pride and laws in arrogance, it is as your sister has said…” Kayle tensed and her eyes widened once she heard those words. LeBlanc knew Morgana? Morgana had been speaking with LeBlanc lately? She wondered if her sister were aware that LeBlanc owned her or whether she cared or not. She was not afraid.

Kayle felt the chains cut into her wrists and she winced. Seeing that the slave continued to struggles in vain caused a change of facial expressions in the Noxian as she sighed. "You will find it a great deal less painful if you limit your movements, girl."

Kayle looked up at her and glowered at the sorceress sitting on top of her

Her owner clucked her tongue at the angel disapprovingly. "Tsk tsk, slave. Your judgment has just begun." she flickered the dagger back and forth, intimidating Kayle. "There are so many things we have yet to discuss." LeBlanc finished toying with the Demacian and set the dagger down on the floor. "You honestly do not believe that I intend to excuse your punishment so soon, do you?" She rose and index finger and in a snap, a small flame ignited on her finger, it does not cause any harm to her skin but it was indeed a flame. LeBlanc raised the flame up to her nostrils which flared slightly, excitedly at the aroma of the flame. It was long, lean and richly scented. Reaching down to the bounded slave and held it near her skin. Kayle felt the uncomfortable heat merely a few inches away from burning her skin. A lone drop of sweat made its way down her face, leaving a trail of temporary coolness in its wake. The white-haired angel squirmed in her chains, hoping the flame would not burn her skin. LeBlanc then took time, a good deal of time to pull the flame away from the angel. "So many things in this world are rushed. A flame, like fine wine, or excellent brandy should never be hurried." She mused. Once she pulled the flame away from the tormented slave, LeBlanc whirled her finger in a circle, the fire lightly stretching the movement. "Don't you agree, my dear?" The Noxian looked at her with indolence.

Kayle moved and the chains cut deeper into her body, her golden eyes closed with the pain. Her heart was pounding, her throat was dry and she felt dizzy and sick. None of this made any sense to her, what punishment will LeBlanc choose? Slowly she opened her eyes once more and looked at her owner, really looked at her. Strange memories of home seeped within her memories:

As a ten-year-old Kayle trudged on the dank marsh, the cool breeze became colder. The child heaved her old shoes - one foot slowly after the other - from the gurgling mud, whilst the wisps of wind whipped against her raw calves. What had begun as a walk along the hazy, violet meadows had become a torment. The breeze had morphed into a beast, its merciless gusts thrashing against her damp best attire; Kayle was breathless with fatigue as she fell face first into the sodden grass. She lifted her head and groaned at the outstretched trees moving along the wind that lay ahead. Checking behind each tree, looking for her twin that was hiding. After searching for fifteen minutes, Kayle was not able to find her sister.

"Morgana! You won! Come out now!” She called out to her twin. The only noises she heard in response were the tree branches striking against each other and the strong hallowing wind. Perhaps Morgana was hiding far from where she was currently standing.

Kayle pondered over the thought for quite some time, whilst the wetness of the grass clung to her limbs, coughing its distastes of the foreign organism that was suffocating it. The child staggered to her feet, looking back sorrowfully. All she had wanted was to reconnect with the rays of sunshine that had once brightened her days, to be closer to the father she so dearly loved. She does not want to be surrounded by this unbounded darkness hugging her. Kayle kicked at a pebble in front of her feet and ran her hand through her white hair, before hopping on one leg, grabbing her painful toe that rung like an alarm bell.

“Morgana! This isn’t funny!”

The night was falling, creeping towards her from all sides. The young Demacian scampered through the undergrowth, her little feet carrying her deeper and deeper into the trees. No matter how far she ran, nor how fast, she could not outrun this darkness, and she didn't know how to find her twin. She would have thought she was running in the right direction, had been almost certain of it when she'd begun moving, but surely Kayle should have left the forest by now if that were true. The girl didn't want to risk changing direction and delving even deeper into the trees, so she maintained her path, running and running, and all the while her fear was growing in her chest. Kayle clenched her eyes shut and ran faster. As she ran further down the forest with her hands clenched tightly to head Her unbreaking gaze to the trail kept her from noticing a figure walking directly towards her. Without breaking the person's stride, the shoulder of the figure checked her. Kayle lost her balance and fell on her head from the sudden force.

Kayle groaned in pain and rubbed her, once her sight came back and looked up at the figure standing before her. The moonlight splashed down its watery white-silver glow onto the figure which turned out to be a beautiful dark purple-haired woman, the moonlight washed over her pale skin and amber eyes. She was wearing an odd golden head-wear almost resembling a crown with a red gem in the middle. She was holding a golden staff and wore a purple and golden cape, though it did not cover her body suit that revealed more of her pale skin. And in the distance the trees were silhouetted against the deep velvety sky, the woman amber eyes met hers and she asked in a kind and soothing voice:

“Darling, are you lost?”

Those odd memories of her childhood brought Kayle violently back to reality, Kayle looked with a clear eye at the woman who would be tormenting her for eternity. Kayle was startled by the thought this is where she would spend her time here for eternity and the pain from the chains cut into her soft flesh again. The judicator groaned in pain.

LeBlanc laughed softly as she drew again on her flame that was lit by her index finger "Coming to the further realization that you are enslaved by the notorious “Deceiver”, are you?" She moved toward the Demacian again, took out the flame and blew a long full flam that stretched out in front of Kayle’s face "Good."

Kayle glared at the Noxian, refusing to swoon like some little heroine of a romance novel. Eyes as golden as the light at peace darkened, she refused to flinch even as the flame that grazed her skin and left little burning pain against her skin.

"Magnificent," LeBlanc commented kneeling down beside the slave. "I could not admire your strength of character more." Reaching out with the dagger, she placed the rounded bend under her chin. "Nonetheless, my slave, strength of character will do you little good against me."

Kayle looked down at the dagger and the hand that was holding it. Involuntarily she shuddered under the Noxians touch and gaze.

LeBlanc leaned across Kayle’s tied down legs and wings and with the flame, on the other hand, she let her hand travel up her thigh. The angel jumped as she did, nonetheless, her hand continued to move upward, coming to rest on Kayle’s hip. "Do you fear for your life yet?" the sorceress brought her flaming finger down and brought the tip of the burning embers within a breath of her nose. "Now?" LeBlanc watched as the judicator swallowed slowly then brought her gold eyes up to the deceiver. The purple-haired mage turned the flame slightly so it would not burn her but she could still feel its heat. "Let me assure you, I can hurt you in ways that are unimaginable. After all, I do wield powerful magic." Her fiery gaze stayed fixed on the bounded angel. "Do you need proof?" LeBlanc watched, Kayle kept her prideful gaze though she swallowed again, very slowly then shook her head from side to side.

"You understand then, I am in charge?" Kayle nodded, just as slowly as she shook her head. "Good." The flame instantly vanished from her fingers. Leaning forward the sorceress whispered harshly in her ear” "Just so we are clear." LeBlanc placed her hand on the Demacians throat and squeezed cutting her air supply slowly down. "I will snuff the life out of you as easily as I snuff out at the flame." Releasing her grip LeBlanc heard Kayle take a long inhale of breath.

LeBlanc stood up, and removed her headwear and tossed it aside. "Just as one should not rush a vintage, nor a good brand, or a good flame, one should never rush a good torture session."

Kayle fought the urge to lose consciousness. The judicator made a slight noise in the back of her dry throat and then looked to see LeBlanc’s reaction. To her ultimate disgust, the sorceress was smiling indulgently. She looked from her face to the harness over her shoulder, swiftly Kayle lowered her eyes.

"Yes," LeBlanc agreed. "It's not very pretty, nor stylish. Alas, it is all I have to work with if I wish to wear this." She raised the brightly polished dagger and brushed it against the white feathers of Kayle’s wings. "And in your honor, I have decided this glorious piece of history."

Returning to the angel, she stood looking down at her, she looked up fearfully. "Where to begin?" LeBlanc paused, turned and walked gracefully over to the bar of the cell and snapped her fingers, seconds later a phonograph appeared from thin air. Opening it she turned on a switch, classical music began to pour over the cell from hidden speakers. "Ah yes, we must set just the right mood." Her hands moved sensually over the metal bars of the cell, then released the bar. Spinning around like a dancer LeBlanc moved back to the chained angel mounted it and straddled her back. "I have yet to give you a proper warm, greeting. Your sister and I have been connected for so long, way…I am practically a part of your family…Forgive me for neglecting to greet you… my sweet little angel." the dark mage slid her hand to the nape of her neck, then yanked her white hair back and revealed her neck fully exposed. Pulling her head to one side LeBlanc placed her mouth on the tender skin behind her ear. Then sank her teeth into Kayle’s neck and bit down hard. Drawing a fine line of blood she licked it causing her to revulse. It also caused her to jump and the chain to cut deeper into her body to the point more blood leaked out than the ones from the fall earlier. "Did that hurt?" LeBlanc breathed deeply in her ear. The Demacian nodded slowly and gulped for air. "Good." She crooned.

“There’s an old saying that a man without freedom is a bird with no wings, so I shall take both~” Leblanc coldly mused, her amber eyes staring intensely at the Demacians reaction. LeBlanc pressed the dagger to the scapula of her wings. “You enjoy your wings, don’t you girl?” LeBlanc asked smirking, “Yes, you love to soar through the clouds, like a bird. The air caressing your wings must be very pleasant for you. Nevertheless, these wings have me concerned you might use them to escape in the future. Your wings make you feel freedom and I cannot have that, my little angel~"

“D-Don’t….please don’t do this! Please, anything else! Mercy! Have mercy!” Kayle pathetically begged she was shaking in fear heavily under the Noxian mage.

"But this is mercy, I am not killing you. However, changes need to be made and we will start here,” LeBlanc declared pressing the dagger to her wings further.

“No! No! Please! I promise to obey! Have mercy! Not my wings!!!”

LeBlanc rolled her eyes and ignored the Demacians pleads and held the dagger to the scapula of her wings, the blade first hits bone and chips the bone and the blade the hit felt like it jarred Kayle’s bones loose. It made a ‘crunching’ sound that echoed throughout the cell and the judicator screamed out as the dagger drove through her back. Every thought she just had become confused as the burning pain licked up her back like a scorching fire. The only thoughts Kayle had was 'like a knife through butter.' She wept at her own suffering. She could hear herself screaming and shouting. Mentally anger swiped through at this chaos and pain, the pain of her losing her wings. Kayle never thought she’d lose a part of her like this. Where there had been smooth skin was torn muscle and blood, as raw as any carcass at the butchers. This increased her own agony was unbearable, she felt a burning heavy pressure on her back as she was losing feeling in her back. LeBlanc’s dagger was sinking deeper and deeper into the scapula of both of her wing, The sharp steel end was still in the woman’s wings and pulled out the blade. The sorceress began to pull on the broken wings further, stretching out the bones and muscles in the wings that were turning Kayle’s once white wings into crimson. The bones made a crackling sound like wood in a fire as her the blood pouring from the muscles that were stretching thinner was flowing like a fountain. The Demacian let out a blood-curdling scream that would traumatize anyone that would listen to it, but not LeBlanc, she found it to be music to her ears. The last strings of muscle and bones crackled through the sound of Kayle’s screaming. It was dark red, pooling with blood, already blackening. Some pieces of muscles and feathers fell onto Kayle’s white hair and splattered on the otherwise all over the slave. The last muscles and bones snapped off and the Noxian pulled harder onto the wings until she succeeded ripping both the angelic wings off.

The wings that she loved to fly with were torn and still, Kayle’s blood running dark on her skin. Where it was smooth just yesterday, “STOP IT! MERCY! AHHHHHHH!!!!” Kayle screamed and begged, her voice tore through her vocal cords and she felt if it would pop out of her throat any moment.

Kayle's fear surges so fast she almost vomits, she can taste saliva thickening in her throat and beads of sweat trickling down her brow. This unbearable pain in her back was eating away at her like an animal ravishing its prey. Kayle’s blood had poured as easily as water from a garden hose in a steady but dying rhythm. The once scarlet pool had turned a dark shade of red once the bleeding was getting heavier in the damp concrete were sinking in LeBlanc’s dress, clotting as if it could still save the Demacian who lay within it. Kayle wanted to roll up in a ball of self-loathing and pain, wishing the world to end rather than this sea of endless currents some strong some weak but the waves always crashed over her, permanently. She strained her vocals but nothing came out, still, she screamed, hoping someone would hear her, but she knew that no one was going to save her. Suddenly, her body wracked with raw sobs and the Demacian shook like a leaf. pain consumed every cell in her body, swelling them with agony. With every second she practically felt the rise of her blood pressure. The pain was deep within her entire body stinging and burning, almost as if the wing bone was smoldering, and in the far distance, though she'd heard an evil laughing. A cold piercing laugh that was finding joy in her suffering, a laugh from Emilia Leblanc.

“Oh my, this is getting quite messy~”

The pain is increasing in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robs the judicators ability to speak or even move. It's as though her blood has become acid, the intent of destroying her from the inside out. All the angel can do is writhe, the occasional whimper escaping to echo off the walls of the dungeon.

To Leblanc, this was all a game, she was surprised that the slave was still conscious after she had torn her wings off, but with how much blood Kayle was losing she would not be for long. No matter, she was far from done with tormenting the Demacian. LeBlanc, still straddling the bloodied angel, lifted Kayle’s body off so that she was kneeling, but her body was going limp. The Noxian mage walked around the Demacians body so that she would be facing her.

LeBlanc stares deep into Kayle’s gold eyes, her eyes were now bloodshot with tears still flowing down her face, her lips were torn, showing bits of meat and skin, blood was running down from her chin from biting her bottom lips.

“..Why...did you do that? I said I would obey...” Kayle asked, slurring and sobbing through her words numbly, tears falling down her face, mixing well with the blood. LeBlanc gently caressed the Judicators face and brought herself closer until her lips were next to Kayle’s ear.

“Dear, you forgot I am the judge, jury, and executioner. You are simply meant for the cage, not freedom,” she cooed mockingly. LeBlanc pulled back for a moment then harshly pressed her lips against the bloodied Demacian. Kayle hardly reacted to the older women kiss, Leblanc shoved her tongue into her mouth, tasting the metallic taste from the blood dripping down her mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of blood in the air as Kayle was feeling lightheaded from the blood loss. LeBlanc pressed her lips harder against the angels torn lips. It was fierce and possessive, distressful in ways that words would never be. The sorceress' hand rested below her ear, her thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She gripped the back of Kayle’s white hair and pulled on the roots, causing the Demacian further pain.

Kayle felt the tears beginning to sting at her eyes. Tears she was powerless to stop. As the first tear slid down LeBlanc turned her face from Kayle, leaving a string of blood between their lips. She smirked and stuck out her tongue and lapped it down. Her white hair had been released, but she tried to hold perfectly still as it was far less painful than the movement of her dismembered wings, she could still feel her wings despite it being severed off her back. LeBlanc’s tongue on her cheek was too intimate and she pulled back from the woman weakingly...

LeBlanc looked at her with a pleasantly wolfish grin. "Passing out so soon? I have wagered a years supply of wine it would have taken far longer to back you into unconsciousness." Her left hand ran down Kayle’s throat, over her breast and continued until it reached her knee, which was kneeling on the blood covered floor. The blood covered dagger on her right hand slashed the chemise open from hip to knee. She managed to inflict the damage on her gown and thin cuts on her abdomen. Kayle began to shake her head and tremble; she even tried to raise her weakened and bounded arms, a mistake that she quickly abandoned. LeBlanc grabs onto the collar of Kayles torn white gown and tears it off, and takes her breast in her mouth, sucking at the nipple. LeBlanc's teeth are sharp and the white-haired angel squirms under the mage's attention. The dark mage gives one final sharp tug on the nipple before she moves on to the other one.

LeBlanc kneels behind her and lifts up her gown. She roughly pulls down her panties, exposing her womanhood, Kayle shudders but Leblanc didn’t know or care whether it from her skin being exposed to the cold air or from her injuries. The purple haired woman pushes two fingers into Kayle's sex, and it’s enough to send a sharp pulse of pain to Kayle. She pushes in harder and at a fast pace until she heard a small gasp from the Demacian. LeBlanc’s left hand ventured up inside the tear of her gown, the Noxian read terror, dread, numbing, and alarm in her eyes. LeBlanc pulled the drawstring on her silky drawers shoving her hand down inside. As her fingers reached for her womanhood she grunted. LeBlanc moved her fingers again and again Kayle made the involuntary sound. The mage drew back, to look at her, her hand still within the angels prison drawers. LeBlanc moved and Kayle shut her eyes tight and shuddered.

Her fingers moved again, this time venturing deeper and swiftly, the Demacians golden eyes shot open with terror and despair, she felt hopeless about the whole situation, what else was left to take?

"Virgin?" LeBlanc whispered at her ear. She nodded once, knowing she could not stop what was happening to her. If she had hoped it would dissuade the sorceress, it had the opposite effect. LeBlanc slid her long fingers in and out of her, slowly, methodically. She was bracing her weight on her right leg; her left leg was now between her legs pushing them apart. LeBlanc kept her lips at Kayle’s ear, "How perfect," she growled continuing to molest the angel. "You have been alive for thousands of years and you kept yourself pure. The first person to touch you in so intimate a manner is I, the same woman who tore your wings off." The Noxian could feel her dry insides reacting painfully to her touches, LeBlanc’s sharp nail was painfully scratching her vaginal walls. "For you, I have reserved a living nightmare, my fair slave."

Fearfully her gold eyes turned behind to glare at the sorceress. She could read nothing in the deceivers' expression; it was like looking at darkness. Her words could sound tender, or teasing, but they could not command the feeling to migrate to the cold eyes. The Judicator was at her mercy, and she certainly had none.

LeBlanc removed her fingers when she was satisfied that she was slick enough for her entry without feeling uncomfortable by her dry passage, even if blood was being used as lube. She was only sorry it meant less pain for the judicator, though she suppose tearing her wings of moments ago was more than enough pain. LeBlanc shifted her weight again and knelt up one leg between Kayle, the other on the outer side of her left thigh. LeBlanc pushes her forward on the cold stone floor so that she was laying on her stomach. The mages finger leaves a strip of wetness to her thigh, and she bites her there, hard.

"Time to the bring the angel back to Runeterra." She said taking hold of the chemise with her slick fingers. Lifting the fabric she slid the dagger in and sliced the undergarment into rags. The Demacian begged with her eyes, shook her head from side to side, and screamed helplessly with her strained voice. LeBlanc ignored her pleas. She tore the fabric until she could dispose of it off the side of the bed. Her silky little drawstring drawers followed. She was naked and defenseless beneath her now, shivering with shock and fear. LeBlanc began to remove her clothing, revealing her flawless body and aroused sex, "I would love to take time to explore your wonderful body, my wingless angel. However, I am losing my patience sooner than I anticipated."

Kayle turned her back the best she could and looked at her amber eyes, refusing to look down at her naked body, she knew LeBlanc was going to rape her. What was she muttering on about? Patience? That deceiver tore her wings off and she was more concerned about patience? Kayle felt her heart race and then she felt another kind of pain, one that was as familiar to her as breathing. One she felt in battle, like clockwork ever since she'd begun to…she groaned painfully, the aching pain in her back was becoming numb. Was it not enough this mad woman was about to rape her…rape her? She looked up at the Noxian and knew she knew. She shook her head from side to side wildly forgetting it would cause the chains to dig even farther into her broken body. She forgot the pain, she screamed violently to the best of her ability.

LeBlanc, now as naked as she smiled amusingly at Kayle’s pathetic attempts. "Comes the dawn," she said dramatically. The sorceress now crawled so that both her knees were inside Kayle’s legs that she was trying to clamp down. "You fight a valiant fight, my wingless angel. Worthless, and futile, but valiant. It will make what comes now so much the sweeter, at least for me~" Her left hand moved back between her legs. She screamed into the cold air and tried to pull away. He moved his hand, none too gently, and began to violently finger her. "I am doing this not for your pleasure, I assure you. There is nothing I hate more in the world than a dry well," she snarled. "I could easily force myself on you dry, but as it is your first time I can imagine the difficulty of pushing in. I prefer you be the only one to suffer when I plunder your divine treasure."

LeBlanc whispers an incantation and purple magic glows around her crotch until a nine-inch strap-on was on her crotch. LeBlanc grins and palms it for a moment, enjoying the stark contrast of the toy pressed against Kayles bloodied skin, the blood was already dripping to her feet. The strap-on that LeBlanc was wearing gave her the sensation of what it was like to have a cock, she could cum with it as well. LeBlanc teasingly grinded herself of the motionless woman's opening. Kayle thrashed and screamed as the sorceress pressed the head of the large toy to the opening of her hymen.

“Please…..stop….” Kayle managed to croak, her voice was strained and cracking from all the screaming she was doing earlier.

“That’s it, beg like a Demacian!” LeBlanc shouted at her wildly as she moved into Kayle like a knife cutting through butter. She pulled back and shoved in again, then again, and again. The angel cried out, tears falling freely as the Noxian began her rape. LeBlanc pushes in, hard and fast and possessively. The dungeon was silent except for Kayle’s sobbing and LeBlanc’s grunts, the skin-to-skin contact of the dildo pushing in and out of Kayle, and the judicators silent, trembling sobs under the Noxian. The purple-haired mage notices blood on the dildo but could not tell it was from breaking her hymen or the blood on her back as the Demacian entire body was covered in blood. She ignores it and tries to kiss the angel but Kayle turned her head, LeBlanc mouth glancing off her cheek; she chuckles, burying a free hand in her white hair. The sorceress noses her neck, biting into the soft flesh.

Kayle lightly struggled against the chain, but it was pointless. LeBlanc found it difficult to thrust into the Judicator. Even with the blood serving as lube it was problematic. Entry of air occupied up to the Noxians lungs as her whole body was shaking with intense pleasure. LeBlanc moaned deeply as rammed into hard more possessively. LeBlanc was violently thrusting inside Kayle’s torn insides, blood was leaking from her womanhood at an alarming rate.LeBlanc looked down at the Demacian to find her eyes and mouth wide open, blood and drools were dripping down her jaw and onto the floor, she widens her eyes and were staring off to the left side of the wall. The sorceress leaned forward and gripped onto the back of Kayle’s back, thrusting harder and deeper.

"Oh dear, now don’t pass out just yet~” LeBlanc cooed, chuckling at the angel’s misery.

Suddenly, the Matron realized that Kayle was sobbing heavily at the sight of her torn wings. She was still sobbing like she had lost all her value. LeBlanc stopped thrusting, she leaned forward and licked the tears flowing from Kayle’s eyes. She stared at the tortured judicator, who was now silently crying and trembling by the sorceress touches. She looked to where Kayle was staring unintentionally and paused numbly. The angel was staring in the direction where her dismembered wings were. LeBlanc moved her eyes again towards Kayle and back to the torn angels’ wings, trying to grasp what had just happened.

LeBlanc grinned with malevolence, “Such a shame what transpired to those beautiful wings,” she whispered sarcastically. Kayle tearfully continued to stare at her mutilated wings and bit her torn lips once more. She did not reply to LeBlanc’s words. She was still sobbing and paralyzed in pain from her wounds, she had lost feeling her legs as well. Kayle never took her eyes once off the wings. LeBlanc was perceiving her deeply for a second as her chest was panting and respiring hastily the air. They were both quietened in the crimson mess Kayle laid pathetically in, and then suddenly LeBlanc began to thrust inside Kayle again, as she grabbed the angel's wing socket and pressed starkly on them, which caused more pain in Kayle’s back.

"My dear, do not cry now," The Noxian sneered mockingly. "The worst is yet to come, little angel." Kayle still attempted to pull against the restraints, but it was pointless. LeBlanc found it harder to thrust in Kayle, though the blood did make it easier. Kayle was in much pain as she has never been, the pain in her socket felt as if someone was raping the socket, not that she wanted to give LeBlanc any ideas. More blood was seeping from Kayle’s sex as the sorceress was thrusting deeper. The influx of air filled up her lungs as her entire body was shaking with ecstasy. The Noxian moaned heavily as she started moving into her. She had lost all senses of reality and was violently going deeper and deeper into the crying angel.

LeBlanc heard the cry, felt the shudder, and deepened her thrusts. Once she was well planted within her bloodied insides she moved her right hand to the wounds on her back. She felt the chains cutting into her body, and smiled wickedly. Using the weight of her body she pressed her stomach harder into the blood-drenched floor. The Noxian even faster inside her. "Even with the constraints of patience," she said calmly, "We have time for me to educate you and acquaint you with the pleasures of the flesh. Pleasures we will take many long hours to explore during your stay with me, dear little slave." LeBlanc moaned against her skin. "You are mine, little angel, to do with as I please. My slave." She laughed. The matron increased her gliding strokes. "Now comes the time of reparations, of retribution, of remuneration. This one moment and I restore to myself all that was taken." LeBlanc plunged deeper, harder, faster. "Now." she shuddered and gripped her tightly to her. "Now." LeBlanc comes with a loud moan inside Kayle and doesn’t immediately pull out. She pressed her breast against the woman back where her wings were once there, Kayle winced in pain by the woman pressing her breast against the wounds. LeBlanc knows that she put the Demacian through a lot of pain, but she turns and looks at her red, tear-stained eyes. “I’m sorry for this,” she says, Kayle’s eyes automatically narrowing, “but you are mine now, and whatever I do to your body is something you have no say in.”

LeBlanc gives her a lecherous smirk before she takes the dildo out of her, and with a hard hand on her waist, presses her harder onto her stomach.

“It’s not over yet, my slave~,” she says, grinning sadistically.

She harshly gripped onto the angel’s hips without much of a struggle, these emotions were numb by the intolerant yearning to finish what she had begun. LeBlanc held the tip of the blood covered toy to the tip of Kayle’s ass, she was still struggling, but she was far less hard to get into this time. The Noxian takes the blood covered dildo and drives it into Kayle’s ass, bucking against her. LeBlanc’s soft hands touch her bloodied back before they wrap around the back of her lovely neck and she squeezes in sync with her hard thrusts. Kayle lays on the ground, chained up and in pain, the mages thrust get wilder each second but the Demacian just lays there like a rag doll, she can't feel anything.

The sorceress moaned as her body quivered with pleasure. she calmed, and then roughly moved deeper, making Kayle sob with pain. LeBlanc smiled; she never had any sympathy, feelings or self- control towards the angel, Kayle was her immortal slave, a slave she could torture without the risk of death. LeBlanc’s grasp got lighter as she moved somewhat backward, just to make another painful push back in her ass. Kayle was not screaming any longer, she was not sobbing either; her tears were silently trickling all over her cheeks. The judicator sustained her feeble struggles with all her left strength, but she knew that it was meaningless. LeBlanc had already torn her wings and taken her virginity. She was impassively hearing the woman's moans of desire; feeling her moist skin, rubbing all over hers; and feeling her tongue, which was constantly licking the wounds on her back, which caused a painful reaction in Kayle. There was hope before. Just a tiny flicker against the pain. With the open eyes of a child she still had hope, still wishing. At that moment LeBlanc had a choice of kindness or cruelty; it took no time at all for LeBlanc to decide. She saw that dying ember and brought the winds to a cold howl. How are the sorceresses thinking so different from her own, so alien? How is it LeBlanc could see the suffering and choose to make it all the worse? Her other hole was hurting as the Noxian was pushing farther and farther into them.

LeBlanc was thrilled, joyful. She was rhythmically moving her hips and eagerly exploring with her hands every flesh of the broken angel. Her skin was cold from her frantic actions, which made the dark mage ever keener for her. LeBlanc’s whole body was covered with sweat and blood from Kayle, her heartbeat was running remote, and she was deeply breathing each time she was pushing into her, desire for more and more. The assault and sodomy were painfully stretching Kayle. From the strap-on, LeBlanc could feel that Kayle was entirely warm- her skin, her sobbing, her womanhood, and ass… LeBlanc moaned loudly as she roughly sodomized Kayle.

The purple-haired mage pushed harder into the broken angel as she moaned again. Her rhythm was now getting sloppier as the blood from the thrusting made a sticky sloshing sound with each thrust.
Kayle gasped with repressed weep, not daring to give the sorceress the joy of hearing her scream more. She was overcome with pain which was causing immense paralysis on her back and below her waist, she only hopes they could recover from the mutilation. LeBlanc was thoughtlessly viewing at her as the disturbed Noxians thrusting were becoming more and more vicious. The sense of her yielding, the cold sweat running all over the sorceress, and the blissful enchantments were all assorted up in a messy ecstasy. LeBlanc’s look got hazier as her amber eyes bursting with pleasure. LeBlanc’s entire body was spasmodically trembling in bliss and her legs were getting weaker from the intense pleasure. She shoved, again and again, more vicious each second, causing herself as much pleasure as pain to the angel, and Kayle was in agonizing pain. Kayle stopped responding to the thrust and laid on her stomach like a corpse. LeBlanc moaned, again and again, touching the moments of pleasure and groans, reaching the final moment of the lost in bliss. Her eyes closed, as she gasped heavily without any air left in her lungs, filling the insides of Kayle’s intestines. This time, she bites down hard onto Kayle’s wounds as she cums in her ass, lapping the blood before she kisses her backside

The sorceress became too heavily gasp and breathe out as her body started recovering from the rush. LeBlanc was still above the bloodied Demacian as she laid on her, feeling up her torn skin, bruised breasts, and could feel her slow heartbeat over hers. She was dazedly looking aside, her entire face enclosed with tears and blood, blood still from her wounds. The cell remained still for a few moments. LeBlanc stared at her motionless slave, and then harshly pulled the strap-on out of her ass and then, making the angel silently whimper in pain.

She’s had her fill, and now she can leave the Judicator in her own torment. LeBlanc stares at the women gushed out wounds, though Kayle cannot die, it would be bothersome to leave her socket...unfilled. LeBlanc chuckled and shook her head, she was not going to stick herself in the wounds. LeBlanc presses both her hands on the woman's wounds, the Demacian was not responding.

The sorceress whispers an incantation and the wounds begin to close. Now LeBlanc could fuck the slave whenever she wanted, though she wondered if other parts of Kayle may be altered due to tearing her wings off...

LeBlanc quickly got off the numb slave and dressed. Once she was ready, she took ahold of the severed wings and she walked to the front of the cell Kayle was inside; closing and locking it, leaving Kayle inside in her own fluids. Once LeBlanc was gone Kayle slightly rose her head and stared at the corner where she wings once were. There was nothing left to pawn. She gazed around the cell with its dark grey, only filled with darkness the fear and the blood from her torture. Only the memories of her flying with her wings filled her thoughts, but why was she also thinking of her sister? Memories of Morgana come at the strangest times. With the gold eyes that could cry no more, she laid in her own blood. Was this her introduction to the hell she would be living for all of eternity?

Chapter Text

Clouds move in the morning sky, kissed into brilliant white by the sun. They move south toward the ocean, together yet independent. Gaps widen and close, one slides right under another and always they are changing shape. On this cloudy morning, there are growing patches of blue, the sort of hue that is soft and bright at the same time. Though beneath the sheet of a cloud is a grey that deepens to steel, the leading edge is a brilliant white, as if it is the pages of a new book ready for any curious eye. So, on this day that could bring a magnificent thunderstorm or rain, LeBlanc was hoping for both, for the chance of rain and to feel so much more because the day is blessed with clouds.


LeBlanc laid back in the pillows, smoking the cigar that was previously on the nightstand. The fragrant aroma of the smoke almost covered the exhilarating scent of the blood that was on LeBlanc the previous night. The sorceress lay nestled in the pillows naked, her back prompted up, her right leg extended and her left one with her knee up as the foot moved lazily tapping to the song in her head, an old Noxian drinking song she began to hum jauntily. Her right arm was over her lover's shoulders, who was still sleeping beside her and her soft hands rested almost tenderly on the pillow of Jericho’s chest. Swain’s closed eyes squinted from the noise and the smoke that filled the room.


LeBlanc drew long and slowly on the cigar, a good cigar should never be rushed but should be savored. She rolled slightly and covered Swain's legs with her left leg as she bent over him. Her left hand with the cigar and the other hand began to play with his long white-grayish hair, as Swain was still attempting to sleep peacefully despite the room being filled with the scent of cigars.

After she had returned from the dungeons, her lover did not seem to comment though was concerned for the excessive amount of blood that was on her dress. It had not seemed to bother LeBlanc that much as it did not prohibit her from having intercourse with the grand general that night either. The first time had been to ensure that Swain would not question what she had done with Kayle. The second had been to satisfy what could only be referred to as an old itch. The third time was to tempt the heavens when they did not respond they done it the fourth time. After that, she'd lost count, and now it was dawn. The beautiful clouds were spilling into the grand master's suite of the manor.

Keeping her hands on him, he looked with tired eyes into hers. "Good Morning, darling," she said with a smile lurking on her face. Swain awoke to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding himself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, his eyes were still shut as he soaked in the warmth of the covers before letting his red eyes view his lover leaning above him. LeBlanc rolled back on her side, pulling Swain closer and pinning him to her. She drew on the cigar again and blew the smoke over the grand general with a mirthless laugh. "Nothing as pleasurable is there, like a good cigar and a spirited man for his age," the sorceress giggled, which cause Swain to frown entirely.

“Must you be smoking this early at dawn?” Swain inquired in a displeasuring tone. “Or had done that to the slave last night?”

LeBlanc motion circles on Swain’s bare chest with her finger, she tilted her head and smirked, ”Whatever are you speaking of love?”

“When I had told you to address the problem, I simply referred to chaining her wings, not tearing them off her back, even I heard her screaming quite well, Evaine,” Swain spoke in a monotone, though there was a hint of scowling in his tone.

“Oh come now, what I did was far more merciful than what I had previously intended if she had not attempted to escape I would have left her wings intact. It was her foolishness that leads to her dismemberment.”

“I do not believe it was appropriate to bring her wings to the room, Evaine,” Swain replied, motioning his finger to the severed angelic wings that laid beside the mirror.

LeBlanc’s giggle was like a stone bouncing across a glassy lake, creating ripples of mirth where there had been none: “It is, love. I do intend to hang her wings in the living room, my own trophy. Though I expect to do another thing with them before I hang it…”

There was a tapping at the door and Swain called out. "Yes?"

"May I enter, my lord and lady?"

LeBlanc lifted the sheet and removed it from her naked body. The glory of her nakedness was not something she hides from her servants, not that it had ever bothered them. "Enter."

Sometime in the night, she'd unlocked the door, long after Swain had lost the battle with sleep. Pierre entered carrying a tea tray. "Good morning, master and mistress." He said politely.
LeBlanc nodded smoking her cigar and playing with Swain’s hair. "A very good morning indeed, Pierre."

"Tea, my lord, and lady?" The gargoyle noticed that the severed angelic wings on the drawers.

"Yes." She handed her cigar to her stone servant and then took the cup of steaming tea. Pierre turned to hand the other cup to his master, but Swain lifted his hand to stop the servant: “I will have to pass this time.”

“Yes, master.”

LeBlanc sipped it lightly. "Just the way I like it, hot as hell, black as night and sweet as love."

The gargoyle looked over at the torn wings, trying to keep pity from his stone eyes. He turned to Swain with questions regarding the whereabouts of the slave. Swain shook his head, hinting for the servant to not ask questions to LeBlanc about the slave. He knew his mistress would not approve of pity toward the slave. "Will that be all, for now, mistress?"

"Draw a bath for us, would you Pierre," LeBlanc ordered placing her cup down.

"As you wish, my lady." Pierre hurried off to the bath, not really wanting to witness furthermore of the severed wings, he could almost feel the pain in his own stone angelic wings. When the bath was ready he returned to find his mistress running her fingers through the now crimson feathers of the wings on the drawers. Again the old gargoyle worked at keeping his feelings of pity to himself. "Your bath is ready, my lady."

"That will be all for now, Pierre…if I need you, I will ring." LeBlanc replied, still running her fingers through the bloody feathers. Swain had now begun to remove himself from the bed, he turned to the gargoyle: "Inform Cornes to have my attire ready,” he ordered dull and tedious.

“Yes, master.”


Kayle could not sleep the whole night, she was still chained and fearing for the sun to rise again, it meant LeBlanc would return. The darkness trickles by, marked only by the endless darkness that she was mortified of. Her mind is blank; where there should be dreams is a heavy blackness. Her gold eyes are as stationary as the darkness, which is where they rest. When she heard the metal door screeching open, Kayle knows her restless night is over. The angels' mind flickers to the dry and sticky blood that glued her knees to the ground, she would have moved it but she later found she could not move her legs at all. She prayed this would only be temporal, she did not know when she may regain feeling in her legs. The judicator closed her gold eyes and they almost sting, open too long she assumed. She feared if she drifted to a dream it may present her with the nightmare she lived through last night. Little did she know that as she was lost deep into her thoughts that LeBlanc had made her own to the cell.

When the judicator heard the door close she stopped caring who it was. Her hair was plastered to her head from being dried with the sweat she'd been covered in during the night. Kayle bruised and aching moaned softly as the sorceress walked inside the cell. Kayle had prayed for death, but death was not something that will ever be hers. LeBlanc kneeled down to the slaves level and began to molest her once more. Heavy eyelids fluttered, as she looked with unfocused eyes at her owner. Watching the Noxian kiss and suckle the breast was beyond her endurance and she struggled. Her body had fallen numb when her wings were removed, and she no longer felt the pain as the cruel chains cut into her each time she struggled.

“I hope your night was well rested, slave.”

Kayle thrashed about as far as the manacles on her arms would allow. She screamed anew into the air, which was instantly gagged after a snap of the mages fingers. A gag appeared locked in Kayle’s mouth, which uncomfortably stretched the judicators mouth.

"I assume not then,” LeBlanc humorously said.

The Demacians face was stained with fresh tears; she had the hollowed-eyed look of a battle victim. LeBlanc smiled. "You smell delicious even after you have been taken, my wingless slave." pulling back from her, she let her fingers fun through Kayle’s face, getting pleasure from the angel's anxiety and embarrassment.

"I am very pleased you have not perished, I did doubt the capabilities of your immortality when I first bought you, though the proof is right before me," LeBlanc chuckled, examining the lifeless slave still chained. She nuzzled Kayle’s cheek and gloated without saying a word.

With the touch of ownership, the sorceress ran a hand proudly over her shoulder. "Slave." She addressed Kayle as if they had been on familiar terms for years, intimates. "I will remove the gag, but I must have your word that you will not cry out or shout. Would you like the gag removed?" Kayle first did not respond, after a few seconds, she nodded slowly. "Do I have your word of honor?" LeBlanc watched as she nodded again slowly. The Noxians fingers easily released the strap holding the gag in place.

Kayle coughed lightly and moved her sore jaw hinge.

"You will soon regain use of your jaw. I used one of the smallest of gags." LeBlanc said in an almost kindly voice as if dealing with a disobedient child. "There are other gags far worse than this one. I could have used one that would damage your pretty mouth permanently." Holding the gag in front of her eyes she said. "If you disobey me, if you cry out, I will use one that will make this one seem very mild indeed. Do you understand me?" the angel nodded and LeBlanc snapped her fingers once more and the gag vanished in thin air. "Good." She leaned back.

“You know…” LeBlanc started, staring and smiling at the slave cruelly, “Those wings of yours were certainly difficult to remove. It felt like I was pulling on rubber, I could tell you were really…” LeBlanc paused thinking of the right word to use, “Attached to those wings. When people speak of phantom limbs and how they still have senses on that body part, I do wonder do you still feel your wings in my room? Next time you think about flying do your wings begin to flap?”

Kayle looked straight ahead and began to rapidly inhale and exhale like there was no more air in the cell, she clenched her teeth desperately trying not to cry. "Why?" She whispered quietly.

"Excuse me?" the sorceress inquired, not sure she was speaking to her owner or herself.

“Why?” Kayle repeated a little more loudly with her voice beginning to break.

“A little louder, no one likes a whisperer.”

"WHY?!" she asked with more emphasis, before breaking into a sob.

Toying with slaves was always something LeBlanc found pleasant, and this slave was indeed a pleasure for many reasons. "That is too vague, assuming you are referring to why buy you at the trade? Why throw you down the stairs? Why tear your wings off? Why rape you?" She teased. "Why what, slave?"

"Why, all of it?!" Kayle rasped, her throat dry and pained from all her screaming.

LeBlanc pulled her short white hair behind her elf-like ears. She kissed the sensitive skin not to tempt the Demacian or to give her even the least feeling of comfort, but because she wanted to keep her frightened. "Have you already forgotten what I said last night?"

"All of this because I tried to escape you?!” She looked away from the purple-haired Noxian again, turning her head sharply and causing herself more pain. Now that the chains were drenched in dry blood and cut into her further. "Honestly, what logical thinking being would not have done the exact same?!" Her voice broke further as fresh tears broke from her golden eyes, “I can not even feel a thing below my waist! What have you done to me?!”

LeBlanc rose an eyebrow by her statement and walked behind the slave, she held her staff and poked Kayle’s legs as if she was a dead animal laying nearby. Kayle's legs were not reacting the touch.

“Can you feel this?”

“No!” Kayle cried out, sobbing even harder, “I can not feel anything!”

LeBlanc pressed the bottom of her staff even harder against Kayle, “Now?”

“No! There is nothing! I can not move them!”

LeBlanc walked back around to face the crying angel, she grinned and swung the staff to strike Kayle across the face. The sudden strike was as loud as a clap and stung her face. It had been an open-handed smack and it had left a red welt behind. Just below her eye was a small cut where the staff had caught her. She staggered backward, but the chains held her body back, biting her torn lips from the strike, eyes watering even further.

“What about that? Did you feel that?” The sorceress asked, grinning amusingly at the angel's expression. Kayle said nothing, her head bent down and she continued to sob pathetically.

Leblanc sighed, her hand still on Kayle’s shoulder her other hand resting in her white hair, she still decided to answer her question. "How easy it would be to say, yes. However you are an intelligent young woman, and realize that life is nothing if not complex." LeBlanc heard her gasp as the cold chains cut freshly, and she saw traces of red rise from the angel's backside. "This is justice, dear. The definition of justice is only given to the victor and you simply lost the war. This is what has brought about your…state as my…property."

"I'm not a slave." Her throat hurt with each sentence. "You will not break me! I have never done anything to you."

LeBlanc leaned forward, inching closer to the bounded slave. "Oh you have no idea what I am capable of doing to you, my wingless slave." the Noxian moved her hand rounded back down her spine. "Prisoner, spoils of war, slave, property, captive, none of these accurately describes your situation either." The angel shuddered under her stroke, contact of the hand on her skin sent fear blazing through her veins. "Let us say you are simply a toy that I am making...a toy only I will play with."

"A toy?" she shivered again as she did her best to shift. Her fingertips, no longer numb, touched something and she swiftly curled her fingers into the palms of her hands, despite the chains that were chained onto her.

LeBlanc smiled. "Yes, my dear. I do plan of molding you into the perfect slave. It would be easier to simply erase your mind but I do enjoy breaking in the toy that is aware. Removing your wings is the first step."

"That is madness." She mumbled.

"That is justice." The older woman corrected with a harsh tenor. "A justice that you practiced."

"And you picked me because you could not have Luxanna?" She was not persuaded. The sorceress in control took a moment to think over her question. "No, not just because Crownguard was taken by Du Couteau, although that is reason enough. NO, I chose you because, for the first time in the many years I have roamed this world, you are my first immortal slave. All my previous slave have perished in such unfortunate circumstances, you are simply a better alternative." She boasted in a manner that said she had little interest. "Though I suppose your sister did influence me into buying you, my dear."

Kayle hated the feel of the woman's cruel hands on her skin and she was applaud by what she said. "My sister asked of you to purchase me? I do not believe you! Morgana could have bought me herself!"

Knowing any movement would cause her severe pain, LeBlanc wrenched her round to face her. "Unfortunately, your twin does not believe in owning the same person that she was in the womb with. Thus, she asked of me to purchase you and I am very pleased she recommended you to me."

Kayle’s eyes widened as LeBlanc was telling her all this. How could Morgana do such a thing? Kayle gasped and cried out, "As if I would ever believe someone referred to as “The Deceiver”, you are lying!"

"Tut, tut, slave." LeBlanc tapped her nose with her index finger. "Be thankful I only bought you now instead of abducting you at an earlier age, I have done that with some slaves. I allowed you to have a nice, quiet, normal childhood. I could have taken you any time I wished."

"I don't believe you." She whimpered in pain.

"Think back sweet child," the Noxian crooned caressing her soft cheek. "Think back to the time you were lost and scared. You were in the forest one night, you were playing with your twin and you got lost." The sorceress reminded her of the past. "You were playing hide and seek and you got scared and ran into someone. Think back."

Kayle swallowed. "How do you know about that?"

LeBlanc stroked her cheek again. "Think back, my wingless slave. To the person, you ran into…watching as you run away, helping you…"

Her words left her little choice; she had to drag up the memory. She hated that walk, and the way her sister teased her for being afraid of the dark. Morgana had tricked her into being "it" and counting while she ran off to hide. Kayle became fearful of the darkness and ran away. The memory causes nearly as much pain as the chains binding her body. "She knew...I was..." She whispered. "I… was so scared"

"Yes, you were." LeBlanc mused. "Though I did not understand how a mere question managed to frighten you enough to run into a river."

Kayle thought back to the time, Morgana never had any fear. She had taunted her and teased her for being cautious. She loved, yet hated Morgana for that.

“Darling, are you lost?' The woman asked in a kind and soothing voice.

“I…” A ten-year-old Kayle stuttered to the mysterious woman.

Kayle looked around. 'My twin...I can’t find her,” She looked up at the young woman and then looked at the branches of the trees brushing against each other from the winds. “I don't like hide and go seek.”

“Would you like me to help you to find her?” she'd asked.

“Can't cheat!” Kayle said sharply. 'Won't let my sister call me a cheat as well.”

Kayle was feeling incredibly uncomfortable around the strange woman, why was she wearing such strange attire? What was she doing in the forest alone?

“I’m not supposed to be talking to strangers…” Kayle muttered quietly, looking down almost embarrassed.

“Not even me?” the woman asked with an exaggerated hurt tone, almost sarcastic. “Well, that is a shame…”

Suddenly, Kayle heard of the hand of someone snapping their fingers, she first thought it was the trees until she stopped breathing. She couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking her. Her heart was racing and all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save her. The young Demacian fell to her knees and looked up at the woman, she was...smiling?

“Oh dear, are you okay? The woman asked sweetly.

A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, and she felt a drop run down her cheek. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for her. After a few seconds, Kayle breathed in and out but air wouldn't enter her lungs. Starved for air, her heart raced at tremendous speeds, and her lungs shallowly rose and fell in time. She stood there for what felt like an eternity but was actually only a few seconds. Satisfaction of security was nothing but a distant memory, and an invisible force crushed her from every possible direction. Each second submerged in fear made a permanent mark on her heart, and a vivid imagination made her wonder whether it was just her mind playing tricks or reality.

“I...have to go!” Kayle quickly said as she removed herself from the ground and ran into the woods with the woman still standing in place. She ran through a maze of many trees that moved in all directions and winding side streets as the sky rumbled, and heavy rain bounced off the cobblestones. A storm smothered the moon-light, greying the world around her. Drops of rain beat against her skin like hammers. Kayle wasn’t at all fazed by it, it was only the darkness that fazed her. Her dainty slippers were caked in mud and the storm had battered her white hair into a tangled mess. She wasn’t scared. She could not be scared.

“Child, it would be unwise to continue to run in that direction,” The woman called out to her, but Kayle did not listen. She continued to run further and further until she tripped over a large tree root that was sticking out the mud. She only cared about what was behind her. The colors of the forest around her swirled and clouded her vision. Every muscle in Kayle’s body had knotted up as the realization flooded in, that she had slipped and fallen over a small hill that leads to a river , she would never reach the bottom, and would tumble, screaming, through the godless sea of darkness that filled the spinning darkness, for all of eternity. It had caused her to feel so small and insignificant, that she'd been terror-stricken, awestruck, and humbled, all at once. She let out a scream as she realized nothing was happening. She looked down and saw a deep dark abyss. The darkness reached out for her, its hands wrapped around her, pulling her down, beckoning her to drop. She gazed at the night sky above her- the only thing she could see- a shadow loomed and then disappeared. She closed her eyes, knowing her fate. The darkness welcomed her, smiling deviously. She was falling down. In an instant, she fell straight into the cold liquids of the river.

As her gold eyes open her limbs flex in shock. There is a liquid in them, around her entire body too. Tubes run up each nostril and all that meets Kayle’s skin is the cold water that surrounds her. There is binding on her limbs and around her neck. Without conscious thought, a choice, her body does what any must to survive. Every muscle is desperately fighting to stay alive than it should ever be and there is nothing she can force she can use to pull herself out. Kayle felt a strong force pull her out of the river.

She coughed and began to breathe rapidly, pulling in as much air as she could. The young Demacian looked up to see the woman from earlier holding her and her twin standing beside her worrisome.

“Kayle! Oh, thank the Gods you are alright!” Morgana spoke, clearly concerned for her sister.

Kayle coughed out some of the water caught in her throat, “I was trying to...find you…” Kayle panted in between breaths.

“I was hiding in the bush from where you fell, I wasn’t even that far from you.”

Kayle glared at her twin and wanted to stand but for the moment her legs have given way to gravity, shaky, weak.

“Child, you should not stand up so suddenly,” the woman said soothingly, “I told you not to run.”

The coldness of the air is more apparent, stealing the warmth given to Kayle by the water dripping down her body. Her shivers dominate the air and the chill freezes her skin and the little brain power she can muster.


Morgana took notice of her twins shivering and took off the black jacket she wore, “Here, you must be shivering, Kayle,” Morgana wrapped the jacket around her sister and hugged her: “I’m sorry…”

“Young girls such as yourselves should not be wandering out this late at night. It would be wise to get home to your parents.” the woman said.

“You’re right. Thank you very much for saving my sister, but we must return back to our father now,” Morgana said, thanking the woman for her help. She held Kayle closely and lead her twin away from the river and back to the forest trail.

“Be safe~”

The dark memories now came rushing forward. Memories she'd suppressed for longer than she cared to admit to. Nevertheless, LeBlanc had caused her to think back on that time, and she looked at LeBlanc with renewed fear. "You were the woman who saved me after I fell" Her voice shook. "You would not have thought."

"No, I would not have," LeBlanc admitted. "But I let that temptation of abducting you and your sister at that time pass. I am not sexually attracted to children, though I could have made an exception for you..." She smiled.

Kayle felt safe when Morgana was there. Once they arrived back home to their concerned father, Morgana was more than willing to take the blame for the near-death experience of her twin. Their father merely scowled them for putting themselves in danger but was more grateful that his daughters were alive. "Why would you make me remember that?" She sobbed softly.

"I could have taken you then, my wingless slave. I did not." The sorceress said factually. "I did heavily consider taking you the moment I saw you on the trail, but when you mentioned you had a twin I had to wait for her to appear." Her voice darkened as her intentions were clear. "Though if I had done what I did to you yesterday when you were ten, I highly doubt you would have survived." LeBlanc knew Kayle was uncomfortable in the position she was kneeling and now facing her tormentor. "Morgana had told me you were always a fickle child, my slave. Even when you two received your powers from your mother, you were easily persuaded by your duties and smited anyone without a second thought."

Kayle glared at her. "You are using my twin in this to tempt me, I am not a blinded fool as is my twin. I assume she asked of you to...take my wings.."

"As I credited you afore, you are a very intelligent young woman, my wingless slave." LeBlanc smiled at her. "Though you are incorrect on the last part, that was all my intention, your sister is not as cruel as you perceive her."

"Let me go, then. You have had your fun…Emilia LeBlanc." Kayle stated, addressing LeBlanc in the way that she knew was disapproving for a slave to do.

The sorceress gripped her throat and pulled her forward. "Raping you is a pleasure I intend to enjoy for some time to come." Stroking her with the edge of the staff as she gripped her throat and she coughed as the Noxian choked the breath out of her. "I am positive you understand why I have taken your wings, Kayle." LeBlanc paused for a moment, staring at the slave deep in her sorrowful golden eyes, “Kayle…Kayle, you do not appear to look like your name is “Kayle”, that name belongs to an angel, but seeing as you can no longer fly you are no longer an angel.” LeBlanc caressed her cheeks mockingly. “No, that name won’t do. Since you are property your name will be whatever I see as fit. Now, what would be a good name for my….broken-winged angel…?”

The mage held her chin with her other hand as she began to think. The thought trundled through her brain like a through a train, with no intention of stopping. As she watched the slaves fearful reaction her angel with broken wings...

“Casséaile! Yes, that name is a perfect name for you! Broken wings are all you are left. Yes yes, your new name is now Casséaile,” LeBlanc declared, patting Kayle on the head like she was some dog.

"I am Kayle! Let me go and be done with this!” She said begging. "You have done your damage. Why must you take my name?!"

LeBlanc golden staff cracks across the angels face, snapping it back with the force of her blow and causing the slaves to head to reel sickeningly as it slams against the chains. When black dots quit covering Kayle’s vision, the pain of the staff striking her face was causing the Demacian to let out a startled little gasp of pain. Fresh blood leaked out of the skin and was dripping down her face

"You will learn your name, that is a guarantee. I have only begun." LeBlanc said pleasantly. "Besides, we have all of eternity to learn your place and I have other methods of breaking you in." The sorceress scooted forward, pulling the Demacian closer to her, the chains were cut even deeper in Kayle’s skin. "Casséaile, I find you very attractive." the purple-haired Noxian said in a sigh. "So comely, so demure…a broken angel for me to play with." She pulled the crippled slave closer to her, LeBlanc stuck her fingers into Kayle’s womanhood, causing the Demacian to wince in pain. "Delightful." LeBlanc crooned into her ear as she began to force herself on the angel in the cell as she did last night. "I will take you whenever and however I like." The voice was now dark, dangerous and maliciously merciless.

"Get your hands off me!" Kayle begged. "Stop it! Are you trying to kill me?!"

"Hardly, my good girl." LeBlanc pulled her down with more force. "Hardly." She paused her assault long enough to force Kayle to face the soceress. "Had I wanted you dead, this conversation would not be taking place."

Chapter Text

LeBlanc had grabbed the Demacian by the collar she wore and thrown her on the floor at her feet as she stood and LeBlanc stared down at Kayle, admiring her bruised and beaten body. "Such a pleasant sight of a slave ready to amuse me, eh my dear?" The sorceress spoke to the whimpering angel. When she did not respond, LeBlanc nudged her with her bare foot. "My questions require replies, Casséaile."

Kayle’s arms still bound behind her back with the chains cutting into her was all she could think on.

"What did you say?" She said at last.

LeBlanc crouched down and looked at the slave. "I will forgive you this time, my dear. You are still in training and I am a patient woman. A boon as it were, for being so pleasing to me earlier. However, I suggest you pay very closer attention to my conversations."

"Yes…." Kayle addressed her in a rasping voice.

LeBlanc frowned when she did not refer to her as “my lady” or “Mistress” but the slave was still in training and may need to require further education on servitude, she will have to have Pierre to teach her to serve properly. The Noxian stood up again, smiled at the frightened woman and turned to stare at the sticky bloodied ground. The blood under Kayle was turning brown and stuck the floor, the metallic smell became a rotten odor that filled the cell. When she'd finished she looked back down at the wingless angel. "I suppose I shall have to take proper care of you," LeBlanc mused. "Let us have a proper look at you," she snapped her fingers and in an instant the chains moved, cutting deeper into Kayle’s skin and pulled her paralyzed legs up into a seated position, ignoring the fact that the Demacian was clearly in pain and fresh blood was dripping down the chains. LeBlanc yanked the white blood-filled tangle of her hair and smiled as she heard Kayle bite back the cry of pain. "Casséaile, I commend you on not bowing to the conventions of fashion as so many of your contemporaries have done. Never cared to change your hairstyle after all these centuries, natural hair is so much more appealing."

"Delighted you approve," Kayle replied with a bit more bite than she had meant to allow out.
LeBlanc paused, smiled and kissed her head. "So I have not tamed ye yet?" She mused. "Well good, gives me something to look forward to," the sorceress finished examining her messy hair and mentally noted how similar her hair-style was to her twin. Standing the chains pulled Kayle to her feet, her legs hanging unresponsive to the floor. Fresh blood began to drip to onto the rotting blood from yesterday. LeBlanc looked down at her slave with admiration and appreciation. "I think you may be even more lovely naked than the past slave I have owned," she commented.

"I suppose it is appropriate to be under the assumption I have been treated the same as they have?" the Demacian challenged, bitterly staring at the dark mage.

LeBlanc smiled, she was either incredibly brave or stupid to be asking her that in such a tone. "You would be amazed at all I have done, Casséaile." The sorceress crossed her arms over her naked torso and boasted. "But if you must know, they were all as broken as the last one after some days. Quite a show they gave me too. Men and women alike"

"How revolting!" She spat at the purple-haired mage. Furious of all she done to the previous slaves, it was unjust and sinful. "That is rather repulsing! Even for sinners!"

The swiftness of LeBlanc’s hand slapping her across the face took Kayle by surprise. LeBlanc glared at her as her face came back to face the sorceress. "Watch your tongue or do I have to have it served to you on a platter?"

Fury and pride drove Kayle to where common sense would have stayed away from. "As if you would dare," Kayle’s face hurt where LeBlanc's hand had left its imprint. "All of the importance have been taken by you, a tongue would serve no importance to either of us," She hanged naked before the woman, head held up, and no sign of cowering. Her golden eyes flashed with fire, and bitter hatred. Even with her body bounded by chains and being paralyzed waist down, she looked treacherous.

LeBlanc looked at her for a moment then smiled softly through with sinister intent, "I suppose you may be right...though we can make importance from your tongue. Rather defeats the purpose of you pleasuring me, would it not?" Taking Kayle by the throat she directed her steps to the floor again. "You Demacians certainly have fire and more, my little slave," she pushed Kayle down onto the cold floor, Kayle arched her back up to sit up the best she could. "I have a gift for you this morning, my darling angel." The sorceress snapped her fingers once more and pulled out a leather item and dangled it before her eyes.

Kayle bulked. "No." The wingless angel lost balance on her arms and fell on her back, wincing from the wounds that were still present on her back."You must mad to believe I would wear that willingly!"

“Who said anything about willingly?” the Noxian replied, chuckling by the slave's words.

LeBlanc looked at the chains and then at Kayle’s fearful expression, "You don't like your gift?" She feigned being disappointed. "I spent a good deal of time looking for just the right collar for you, Casséaile."

"Stop calling me that by that name! I am not an animal that you can leash up!" The angel said hatefully looking at the collar in the sorceress's hand with rage in her gold eyes. "You will have to kill me before I submit to such a thing!"

LeBlanc held the leather collar on her side, looked down at her with cold eyes and said calmly. "Slave, animal, pet, I really do not see a difference between the three. You will submit to far worse before I am finished training you."

"I will not let you break me!" She said loudly, shaking her head.

"I am sure you believed the same about your wings," LeBlanc assured her with an icy and humorous tone. "I had planned on exchanging the chains that bind your body for leather cuffs…however, since you prefer to displease me; you will, for now, remain in the chains." The sorceress walked forward, grabbed Kayle by the nape of her old collar with her hand and shoved her onto the floor, turning her over on her stomach. LeBlanc didn’t even bother to chain her legs, it is not as if she could move them. "Don't bother trying to escape or cry out. No one here would help you even if they could," the sorceress moved away from the slave after giving her backside a maliciously hard slap. Kayle cried out and the mage smiled. "Casséaile, be a good girl." LeBlanc then walked back out of the cell and prepared for her day out, off the estate. "I will see you this evening," she said as she went to the cell door, pulling it closed after herself and locking the slave in.

Kayle, face down on the floor fought the tears for as long as she could. LeBlanc had made it clear that an end was never going to occur.


Pierre heard his mistress coming upstairs from the dungeons and bowed once he saw her. LeBlanc did not even bother to look at the gargoyle as she passed by him.

“Pierre, remind me to schedule a meeting with the other Black Rose members once I get back,” she said in a dull tone.

“Yes, mistress.”

The gargoyle stared at his mistress with curiosity about the slave in the dungeons.

"You are leaving her down in the dungeons, my lady?"

"For now, she can not go anywhere, not bound and crippled as she is," LeBlanc said pulling on her overcoat. “Later on, you will teach her to how to be a proper slave. I do not expect her to learn the first time but I do expect there being progress.”

"Yes, my lady. You want me to feed her?" The gargoyle asked quietly.

"No," LeBlanc said looking back down the stairs. "I want her to suffer. Everything is a privilege, not a right, that includes feeding and bathing."

"You are not planning on killing her are you, mistress?" Pierre narrowed his stone eyes and tensed his wings when he was sure his mistress was not looking.

The sorceress headed to the door, "Hardly, Pierre, I cannot kill an immortal. I am just teaching my slave to heel."

Pierre waited then looked back down the doors of the dungeon. "Poor girl."


Kayle was sure when she stared at the endless darkness she watched the shadows on the wall change. The judicator did not know whether her mind was playing tricks on her. Her stomach growled, demanding food that was not likely to be coming anytime soon. Kayle could survive without food but she did need it for energy as did humans, she was more than positive LeBlanc was planning on neglecting her. The sorceress had not troubled to cover her with any kind of clothing because she knew no one would come down to the dungeons without having been given permission. The chains binding her arms moved less with her on her stomach. But she was sure the chains were now fastened to her by the blood that had dried off from her wounds. The manor or the part of the manor she was in remained deathly quiet all day.

Kayle found herself drowsy and gave up trying to keep her eyes open. The next time she opened her eyes the room was still dark as a tomb as it always was. She was not sure how late it was; only that she had slept and the day had fled. If it were possible she felt worse now than when she had fallen asleep. Her arms hurt, her legs were still paralyzed, and her wrists were tingling oddly. The sharp edges of the chains had dug into her wrist and her fingers were numb as purple patches were beginning to form on her hands. She lay in the dark room listening to her dry sobs before she had fallen asleep.

In her dream, Kayle found herself trapped on what felt like a bed. She can not move her hands without feeling the restriction of the straps. Her head is as clear, no trace of the “fear.” of the darkness as she was now. She felt like her body was smaller than it should be as if she were a child once again. Kayle felt her arms strain against the black polyester with every ounce of strength and still, she cannot budge. The Demacians felt her back hurt right from the base of her spine to the tailbone. Saliva is pooling in the back of her mouth. Was anyone else here? She was alone. Heart pounding ready to explode, her gold eyes scan left and right for signs of someone coming to help. No-one. Making out the silhouettes from the best she could she saw the worn green curtains hang limply on flaking chrome rings and through the gap passers by paying her no attention at all.

Then, the darkness did not bother her, she had no problem with it, then. A cheap analog clock ticks loudly on a nearby wall, each second marked. She needs to turn, she needs to swallow and mindless squirming would not give her any help - so she thinks to think of something else. Luckily a voice had interrupted her bored thoughts.

“Hey Kayle, are you asleep yet?” a voice of a child speaks to her from her right side. Kayle heard movement from what sounded like the bed next to her.

“No, are you?” she asked back without thinking much of what she said.

“If I was sleeping how could I ask you if you were?” the voice inquired after a small childish laugh.

“You do talk when you sleep, talking about giving bread to birds and one of them choked,” Kayle laughed when recalling when she heard her.

“Oh shut up! You snore like father!”

“Don’t turn this one on me! What do you want to talk about?” once she asked, her hand's hand comes right out. Then she did the same with the left. Even with two hands-frees, it isn’t enough, she can’t turn. If she sits up she may be caught and re-tied too tight for this little trick to work a second time.

“There is something that I heard...and I wanna see if it's true…” The voice trailed off as if unsure that if it wanted to finish the sentence.

“Ok, let’s hear it.”

Once those words were spoken, Kayle pulled her right foot so hard the muscles become painful and she twists it until it is free, but her left is bound too tight. Kayle twist, some relief for her back and easier to swallow.

The voice sounded more nervous once it spoke the next words, “’s more of a do than a say, I don’t know how to say it.”

Kayle nodded in understanding as if the person talking to her could be seen, she felt something unstraps her last leg and she turned to her side, “Ok, then do it, but don’t slap me like the last time you said you wanted to try something,” Kayle mumbled, angered by what occurred beforehand. She sure whatever she was speaking to would be out of here by now, ready to try whatever, but not her. Then she was a pacifist, scared of the “professional care” that leaves her scarred on the inside. The dream then bleach tinctured ward fades and the nightmare intensifies to the next level.

No longer is the door open, no bright light comes from the hallway. No handle, no way out. Four concrete walls, the darkness that formed into hands instantly held her back down on the bed- this “room” became a prison cell in a matter of seconds.

Kayle’s gold eyes instantly opened. “That was an odd dream,” Kayle thought to herself, she felt her back laying on something..soft? The Demacians glances upward, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. She was no longer in the dungeons, instead, she was chained to the bed in another room, the room she was on the first day she arrived, she was in LeBlanc’s room. The room was empty, with the same things she saw when she saw the first day but did not notice the bookshelf and balcony before. Her gold eyes were roaming to find the severed wings LeBlanc spoke of but could not find it. Her eyes are fixed as if she's looking that she lost her way. How did she get here? Had the servants moved her when she was sleeping? She blinks, refocuses, no she was here, it was not a dream. The lights on the candles instantly came on, a good long sometime after she had awakened. Kayle tried to move but found herself chained. The Demaican heard the sounds of the door opening and closing, LeBlanc strolled into the room and dropped her coat on a chair. She had not looked at the angel, but went to the table with her brandy decanter and poured herself a snifter full. LeBlanc knew Kayle was in the room, she asked the other servants to have her ready (having washed the blood off her but not washing the slave). LeBlanc found it bothersome to always have to go to the dungeons and simply decided to bring Kayle to her room, especially considering Swain returns home late when he has important meetings. LeBlanc opened her humidor and chose a cigar, lit it with her magic, picked up the drink and walked leisurely toward the bed. She took a seat, and leaned over and rested against the rounded violet pillows, after putting her drink on the end table. She drew slowly on the cigar.

"Good evening, Casséaile."

Kayle winced when the sorceress had moved against her bound arms. "LeBlanc," She whispered in reply, knowing it displeased the Noxian.

"Did you miss me?" the mage asked as she fondled her bottom with the hand holding the cigar.

"Oh yes, I certainly did," Kayle said in a sarcastic manner, "Almost as much as the plague."

"I see," LeBlanc sighed. She put the cigar in an ashtray and began to remove her clothes. "Well, you shall be happy to know that nothing will deprive you of my company this evening."

"As if I need more than," She groaned.

Leaning toward her ear LeBlanc whispered hotly, the brandy assaulting her. "You look just too inviting in that position."

Kayle closed her eyes, thinking she could just block the entire thing out of her mind and body by sheer will power. “It is not me she is taking, it is not me. She can not touch me.” She told herself.

LeBlanc placed the flat of her hand on the angels bottom, "Trying to convince yourself this isn't happening, Casséaile ….Let me assure you it is and will continue as long as I wish it to." The sorceress let her hand move over the rounded bottom of the young Demacian, she flinched and jolted unexpectedly to the best of her ability. LeBlanc laughed softly, "So much for your bravado," She commented.

"Let me go!" Kayle begged.

"No," LeBlanc said moving to the end of the bed. "On your knees," she commanded. “Oh right…” LeBlanc chuckled, moving her hands to put Kayle in a kneeling position. Panic filled the angel like water filling a dying person. "My knees?"

"They do still speak this language in Demacia, do they not?" The sorceress mocked. Kayle tried to move away to the quickest she could, even with the chains cutting into her skin, "I said on your knees girl, but seeing as you can no longer move your legs I suppose I must assist you," the Noxians magic gripped the chains binding her hands roughly and pulled her toward the end of the bed without LeBlanc moving from her place.

"God's no!" Kayle begged thinking LeBlanc was about to sodomize her, the sodomy was far worse than when the Noxian raped her womanhood. "God's no, please, anything but that. Please don't."

LeBlanc heard the judicator pleading and paused. "Anything?" She mocked. "Anything?"

"Please,m-mistress, please ." the angel begged hysterically tears stinging her eyes, even using mistress to better appeal to the matron.

"Anything?" LeBlanc repeated, spotted the leather collar the slave had so vehemently refused that morning.

"Anything?" The sorceress asked her and she nodded. 'This is almost too easy.' LeBlanc mused walking back to the nightstand. She picked the collar up and dangled it before the terrified creature.

"Anything, Casséaile?"

Kayle looked at the collar and moaned. "You are a horrible person, Emilia LeBlanc."

Adroitly, for a woman working with magic, LeBlanc quickly removed her old collar with little effort and fastened the black rose collar to her throat. "Yes, my dear. I am well aware of that fact, but thank you so much for bringing it again to my attention." There were two rings on the collar, on in front, and one in the back where the strap fastened on. It had a metal imprint of a black rose serving as the tag and the words “LeBlanc’s property ” engraved on it. LeBlanc hooked a leash to the collar and worked it down her backside, though the chains binding and gave it a yank. "On your knees," the sorceress ordered again, knowing she can only force Kayle’s upper body to move.

"No, please." Kayle gagged as the collar choked her.

"Do as you are ordered, slave." LeBlanc slapped the end of the leash on her bare bottom. "Now!"
Kayle backed up to where she could get her arms to move her legs. "You can't do this!" She cried.

"I can do whatever I want, you are property, Casséaile," LeBlanc informed her with a cavalier attitude. "However, my dear, ‘sodomy’' was never something I fancied, I only did it to you the first time to break you in." The Noxian knelt on the bed behind her. "Taking a slave as a bitch should be taken, now that I do fancy." She began to run her hand inside the angel's unresponsive thigh. "I will wager the idea of your mistress taking you now, this way, already has you beginning to be as dry as a bone." Her fingers moved against Kayle feeling the warmth and the dry sex. "Ah yes. Your mind cries out dry, and your body cries out just the same, you must really love dry sex."

"I hate you!" Kayle gritted as LeBlanc’s fingers entered her.

"I would expect no less, dear," LeBlanc mocked as she prepared the Demaican for her entry. "Now bend forward, if you know what is good for you." Guiding Kayle with her upper body as she seated the large strap-on deeply in her dry insides. The sorceress growled in satisfaction as she began her pelvic thrusts. "Take it, slave, take it all!" She commanded as she growled like a beast in heat.

Without any regard for Kayle’s comfort, LeBlanc gripped her body and thrust the whole length inside Kayle. Stretching her womanhood to its limits around the thick toy. The white-haired angel cried out grasping herself to the violet bed sheets in pain as LeBlanc forced herself in her mercilessly harder. LeBlanc chuckled and drank in her refusal to consent, encouraging her thrusting even harder into Kayle. The sorceress noticed that Kayle was clenching her eyes closed tightly as if she was trying to block out what was happening. LeBlanc grinned and thrust at a faster pace, her assault becoming painfully harder and more vicious. It was as if every whimper that escaped the Demacians mouth was trying to hold back the blood-curdling screams that were trying to escape. Kayle tried to ignore the pain in her womanhood as she is brutally raped. LeBlanc leaned over and nibbled on her ear, moaning and breathing against her ear. It was all Kayle could focus on for now; she was crying in pain, hearing LeBlanc’s moans made her feel something revolting and utterly horrified that someone can become aroused from raping another person, but LeBlanc never considered her a person. The Noxian continued to push further into her dry insides.

The sorceress reached her hand under the slave and began to grope her breast, Kayle felt the Noxian pinch and pull her nipple harshly. A sharp pain rushed through the angel and she clenched her teeth to suppress the screaming. All of it disgusted her and she wanted for the mage to hurry and finish. LeBlanc licked the tears that were coming from Kayle’s eyes and ran her tongue all over the slave’s cheeks, she grinned maliciously when an idea crossed her mind, she was sure to put Kayle in pain from this.

“How about we add one more to the fun, my slave~”

LeBlanc pulled on the leashed and forced the judicators back to arch back as another clone under her was summoned. When the Demacian saw the clone under her, her eyes widened, and the angel’s heart was throbbing in her ears, loud and irregular, but she barely heard it, for her mind was clouded with fear of what was to come.

LeBlanc leaned against her ear and whispered: “I know how much you oppose sodomy, but I am positive you will find it quite an experience to take us both in one hole.” A cruel laughed rolled off her tongue and filled her ears of the slave. Kayle shook her head, tears falling from her eyes when the clone positioned the strap-on in Kayle’s filled womanhood.

“P-Please don’t do this! Stop! It won’t fit!” Kayle pleaded dreadfully as her breathing increased rapidly and the tears were down flooding down her face. Both the original and clone chuckled by her pleads, the clone lead up and kissed her, “Don’t cry now, you will learn to take us both in~”

Before the angel could beg further, the clone thrust the strap-on and tore into her already beaten womanhood. Making her scream and cry out loudly. Neither the original nor the clone waited for her to adjust and harshly began to thrust inside her womanhood at a rapid pace.

Kayle eyes widened by the unimaginable pain she was feeling her womanhood, it was stretched and was hurting the point Kayle screamed and cried out hysterically. In her terrified mind, every breath of wind was as loud as a blood-curdling scream that filled the halls of the manor.

Kayle’s face closed in a grimace, her face became pale and clammy. Every few minutes she would scream, not like the one she screamed yesterday, but worse. It had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. This encouraged LeBlanc and the clone to thrust faster., which would cause the angel to go quiet, just panting, she felt like the two women were stabbing into her. The clone leaned up and pressed her lips against Kayle’s, still, she screamed inside her mouth as the sorceress shoved her tongue in. The original quickly moved down and sunk her teeth into Kayle’s neck causing her to scream piercingly, a visible bite mark and drips of the blood were visible on her neck. The most damage was done her sex, from the pain alone and the excessive feeling of liquid pouring down her legs told her she was bleeding from the assault. The clone smiled against the kiss and bit in her lips. Kayle’s blood filled her mouth once again to the clone, the blood tastes sweet, leaking around her teeth and over freshly cold lips. The blood escaping down her legs whereas if it never knew it was welcome to stay. It has a smell, an odor. The bleeding continues, stark red and continuously flowing. She wishes it would stop; she needed it to stop; perhaps this time will be the last they plan to use her from how badly they’re tearing her womanhood. Being Taken in the same hole by two different women gave Kayle a new experience of excruciating pain that was almost unimaginable.

Kayle’s voice box was becoming sore from all the screaming she was doing in the clone's mouth. Blood was pouring at a faster rate and the burning pain she felt in her neck and womanhood was like that of being on fire, it was too much for her to handle. The Demacian can hear both of the women moaning loudly against her. "You are absolutely adorable," the original remarked as she forced her hips faster into the angel. LeBlanc’s assault felt like forever. The clone pulled away from the angel, leaving a string of saliva and blood and licked the remaining blood after lips, it felt as if the two were competing to who could put Kayle in the most pain. LeBlanc twirled her hand around the leash and pulled Kayle by the neck, choking her with each thrust that made sloshing sound that moved with the blood. The sharp pain rushes through Kayle’s body, though she did not scream. The pain intensified by each thrust of LeBlanc and the clones hips making both the dildos move around inside the Demacian womanhood, causing the stretching to increase in size.

"Cute," the clone cooed mockingly as she grabbed onto the slave's hips with both her hands raping her harder and faster. Kayle's eyes rolled back by how much pain she was in. Despite the alarming loss of blood from the rape, it was the pain that was causing the Demacian to struggle to stay conscious, pulse thread and weakening. Her skin went as paler than it was before, she knew she was passing out.

“Oh dear, are you drifting away?” the clone amusingly inquired, grabbing Kayle’s face to stick her tongue in her blood-drenched mouth once more.

A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Kayle’s insides as both the women picked up the speed. Her sex ached, her arms lost tension and her abdomen could feel the thrust of the two dildos inside of her. She felt as if this was what death felt like, all the blood had run down from her legs. The clones tongue was soaked in the taste of blood from the angel that was choking from the leash. Bruised and winded, with a leg in agony, she never felt more humiliated in her life. Kayle sobbed out in pain, but forced herself to stop, burying her face into the chest of the clone. She was suffering, and LeBlanc was well aware to give her the worst of it. After what seemed like an eternity, LeBlanc picked up the pace even more and felt herself reaching her peak. She moaned heavily and released her juices inside of angel, causing an unfamiliar stinging pain when the cum mixed with the blood, it felt as if acid was being poured in her. After a few seconds of catching her breath, the clone vanished and LeBlanc collapsed over Kayle, forcing her to lay flat on the bed once again. Her lips were at the slave's ear. "That's a good little girl." She moaned in her ear. LeBlanc pulled the strap-on out of the judicator and looked down at the blood that stained into the bed, “Oh my, appears you have made a mess~”

Kayle snapped out and shuddered. "Get off me…" she whimpered.

"I prefer not to," the sorceress scoffed at her distress. "You are the most comfortable pillow I have ever experienced, Casséaile."

"You are hurting me," she whispered pleadingly.

“Have I not already?” LeBlanc rolled off to one side and removed the toy from her own body and tossed it to the side, "Your comfort is not really a consideration, however, I do want you to perform to the best of your ability, given your current state."

"Please stop this," Kayle whispered.

"No." The Noxian said flatly.

"If you are planning on destroying me…" Kayle began in a weak voice.

"Planning on what?" she laughed. "I do not see how I can kill an immortal, even a fool knows this." LeBlanc’s face pressed near her bruised one. "Let us clarify the situation for you, Casséaile. I have bought you with the expressed intention of raping you and molding you into the perfect slave. You are going to be broken. I will continue to use your body for my own amusement until we are sure you are indeed very much the slave I intended you to be."

"Please stop this," she begged, feeling lightheaded and dizzy from the pain and blood running down her legs.

"You honestly believe that asking me to stop will work? My my, you Demacians are as unintelligent than I perceived. Though it does not take intelligence to be a sex slave," LeBlanc moved off the bed and took a long sip of the brandy she had abandoned. She looked down on the fragile creature that was bound and lying in blood on her legs and on her sex. "You must be in a lot of pain right now, your insides must be torn from taking both of us."

Kayle tried to turn her head away, but could not without causing herself more pain. LeBlanc was right, she was torn from the insides.

"Once you are molded you will have no problem with bleeding between your legs, you might even orgasm from it." The sorceress boasted. "Until then, you are my…"

"Don't you dare call me your pet!" Kayle spat.

"Pet does seem rather inappropriate," she agreed to take a seat and resting her back on the pillows at the headboard. "Slave is really what you are to me," she jested. "My soon-to-be perfect sex slave," LeBlanc watched as the bloodied angel struggled to move away from her. "Casséaile," she rolled and tipped Kayle face up with the end of her cigar. "See? You answered to me referring to you by your new name, that is progress!" The sorceress mused touching Kayle’s face. "That name is so fitting for you.”

"Stop calling me that!" she snarled.

LeBlanc laughed brutally. "My wingless angel, I have lived in this world much longer than you have and I have found that as sophisticated as it likes to pretend to be, there is a deep and natural streak of brutality. In fact, I have made several fortunes over supplying materials and equipment to the segment of the populace who relish this brutality. I am the Matron of The Black Rose after all"

Kayle shook her head, "I do not have the slightest idea of what you are speaking about."

LeBlanc kissed the top of her head, "Of course you do not," she said indulgently. Then caressing the Demacians cheek with the cigar she said in a dark, dangerous voice. "I am speaking of the world of domination and submission. Whether it is through; war, trade, bloodshed, or sexual practice, it is really all the same. A dark but very pleasurable sexual practice." With a pleased look in her amber eyes, she leaned back. "I am going to teach you."

"I do not want to learn!" Kayle argued past the pain that was her constant companion now. "And if I did want to learn I would not wish to learn from you, Emilia LeBlanc!"

LeBlanc snuffed out her cigar. "Lesson one," she said as if Kayle never has spoken. "You will show respect for your mistress at all times."

"Damn yourself to the void," Kayle whispered.

LeBlanc swung her legs over the end of the bed and stood up. "I said you will show your mistress respect, Casséaile."

"Oh forgive me," she mocked. "Damn yourself to the void, Emilia LeBlanc." the angel said in a mockingly sweet voice.

One brow raised, the sorceress tapped her chin with her index finger while resting her hand on her hip. "Oh that will never do, I fear you will be a very willful slave." The Noxian walked to the tallboy at the other end of the room and removed something from the top draw. It was a canvas bag. "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'letting the cat out of the bag', Casséaile?" Kayle looked to where she now stood, opening the canvas bag. "It referred to the bag the cat-o-nine was kept in. A bag very much like this one." The bag dropped to the ground and in her hands, a vicious looking whip remained. The handled was covered in leather, and it had nine strips of leather coming off the handle, at the end of each strip was a knot with a metal barb and had spikes on the whip that looked to peel skin back from each strike. "This cat has a deeper bite than most," she boasted. "Most are just cords or leather; some have knots at the end. This Cat is made to leave a lasting impression." LeBlanc flicked it with her wrist and it made a cracking sound in the air that startled the white-haired Demacian. "This cat was made to my own specifications."

Kayle swallowed the lump gathering in her throat. "Whip me until I am raw, it will not change a thing." She ventured boldly.

Moving slowly to the end of the bed, LeBlanc smiled callously. "We shall see. " She raised the whip and gave it a gentle flick of her own wrist. The tails came down with a snap on the bottom of the judicator, next to her hands, but on her derrière. Kayle yelped as the metal stung biting into her bottom, the thorn-like spikes locked into her skin and peeled off after the strike, drawing blood just from the lightest of strikes, she bites into the bed to avoid screaming from the intense stinging pain. "That's just a kiss." LeBlanc said calmly, raising the whip a few inches higher with her arm, "This is for being disrespectful of your mistress." She brought it down a second time. This time the tails spread out touching bare bottom and already wounded wrists as most skins peeled off. She screamed out. LeBlanc gathered the tails in her other hand. She moved to the side of the bed where she could see Kayle’s face more clearly. "Have I made myself clear?"

She nodded, biting back the pain.

"I said…" The sorceress let the tails dangle before her gold eyes. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes…" she whimpered.

"Yes, what?" LeBlanc let the tails dance.

It was humiliating, but she told herself it was only worded. "Yes…mistress."

LeBlanc draped the cat over her face. "That's much better, Casséaile." She praised. "Now repeat for me the first lesson."

"Show mistress respect at all times," Kayle murmured miserably.

LeBlanc placed the whip down and picked up her snifter. "Good girl~" she took a long slow sip. "You will address me as mistress or my lady unless otherwise directed. Understood?"

"Yes…mistress," Kayle sighed.

The sorceress smiled as she leaned back against the pillows. "Very good, Casséaile, very wise."

A tap came to the door. "Mistress." Pierre's voice at the door greeter.

LeBlanc pulled the sheet up over Kayle discreetly and covered herself as well. "Enter." As her gargoyle servant entered she asked. "What is it?"

“You asked of me to remind you to set up the next black rose meeting, my lady.”

LeBlanc sighed. "Ah yes, I had forgotten." Kayle tensed up once she heard those words, Black rose meeting? It felt as worse than it sounded. The Noxian reached down with her hand and stroked her back. "You will serve as a special guest, my sweet angel."

Kayle struggled to look up. "Special guest?"

The dark mage smirked and tapped her back where the scars were most visible with her finger as she spoke. “You have little to worry over. They all are aware you belong to me."

“ not understand…are you going to do something horrific to me at the meeting?!” Kayle asked, her voice quivering with fear.

"Well, you will have to wait and find out, these assemblies do take time to form," The sorceress smiled down at Kayle.

"That is barbaric!"

LeBlanc leaned down, whispered in her ear. "Yes….isn't it? But that is what justice is, you know…Barbaric….unfair….and I am a Deceiver," LeBlanc laughed, waved the gargoyle off and leaned back against the pillows humming an old drinking song.

Chapter Text

In the morning LeBlanc had awakened earlier than intended, which was unusual for her, perhaps it had much to do with the time she and her lover spent together in the bed. The sorceress leaned back against the headboard on the bed and sat in silence. It had been one week since she had bought the judicator, Casséaile (Kayle) certainly began to be her new found form of entertainment, the Demacian held onto to pride that will inevitably be destroyed. It did bring enjoyment to LeBlanc that the slave did not perish from any of the torture methods she inflicted on the angel, she could see why Casséaile was worth so much. In the silence that lurked in the room and the dawn that would soon approach, LeBlanc found herself bored from sitting in her bed, she did consider torturing Casséaile more but she decided to never go down the dungeons, the slave will come to her. The Noxian sighed and used her magic to pour herself a snifter full. Drinking early in the morning was almost like a routine for her. LeBlanc hardly glimpsed at Swain, who was still vastly asleep and breathing lightly beside her. He had huddled the cover around his naked body and was breathing ever so lightly. Once the grand general heard movements around the room, his red eyes awakened and fell upon the bare body of his lover.


“Is it wise to drink this early, Evaine?” Swain inquired dryly, leaning his head on his hand.

LeBlanc took a sip of her drink and turned to her lover with a smirk, “Oh dear, I had thought you were still asleep, but yes it is wise to drink this early. My only other option is to bring Casséaile in to amuse me.”

“Is that what you are calling it? Broken wings?” Swain asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fitting name for a wingless slave, isn’t it?”

“I suppose…” Jericho drawled, he sat up and leaned his back against the headboard of the large bed, “Do you still plan to neglect it? Eventually, the slave will become too weak to perform its task.”


The sorceress took another sip of her drink and looked back at the grand general as if what he said was ridiculous, “Neglect? I pay fine attention to Casséaile, it has not earned the privilege to be feed or bathed, that is all,” she scoffed.


There was a soft knock on the bedroom door. It was Pierre.


“Enter,” Swain called out.


The gargoyle silently entered the room and bowed before his master and mistress, “You have a task for me today, my lady?”


“Ah yes,” LeBlanc was reminded of what she asked of the stone servant, “You will begin to train Casséaile.” The dark mage turned back to her lover with a smirk, “Even you will find it a pleasing sight.”


“Pleasing? I will be the judge of that,” Swain stated, getting off of the bed and walked to the table with his brandy decanter and poured himself a drink. "Next week, you will bring it to me, I would like to see what has become of it, it may even become useful.”


The sorceress headed to the door, thinking of the gathering she would have to assemble. Her attention shifted to the floor near the servants. It did not take long before three gargoyle servants of the mage had heard her approaching from upstairs and had dutifully lined up downstairs, waiting for her orders with their heads respectfully bowed.

"Pierre will be training the slave for some time to come, No one is to bother them," she said authoritatively as she looked the three servants. "And even if the slave is begging no one is to feed it. I hardly desire to come back late and be obligated to see it well. I have too much work without taking care of yours as well, are we clear, Rien? " LeBlanc said coldly as she turned to the larger servant.


"Yes, my lady," Rien replied, as she nodded her head in agreement.


"Let’s hope so," LeBlanc murmured absent-mindedly. "Also, I have mentioned to you yesterday what you have to cook, so I expect it to be done by the time I ask for it."


"Yes, mistress," the other servant repeated, as they again made the gesture of conformity.


"Very well then," the sorceress drawled, as she gave the gargoyle the keys from the rooms upstairs. Then, she tapped her staff on the floor and disappeared in an instant.

It had not passed half an hour since LeBlanc has left, and Kayle heard again the silence of the dungeons and laid in the endless darkness that she feared even greater since her enslavement. Suddenly, she heard unlocking of the door leading to the dungeons. Cornes emerged first, followed by Pierre, who was carrying cleaning supplies. They looked quickly around the room, seeing the huddled the judicator huddled in the corner, who did not show any signs of noticing them. The gargoyle started cleaning the cell, mainly cleaning the dry blood on the floor. Pierre made a quick gesture to the other servant, who had just finished, and started helping the older gargoyle. Kayle remained apathetic. Her golden eyes fell onto the stone wings that both of the servants possessed, the wings she will never gain back. After a few minutes of silent cleaning, the older servant advanced to the younger one, slightly touching him by the wings in order to get his attention.


"Come on, Cornes," he murmured, as he directed to the door of the cell. The other servant followed obediently. At the exit Pierre turned again to the slave: "I will come again after an hour to begin your training." The servant looked absently at her, "and I beg you, Miss, do not put me again in any trouble. I just want to do my work," he said rigidly and then left the room.


Kayle heard and attended everything, but her thoughts were wandering randomly in her mind. She blinked several times to regain some attention and glanced towards the door of the cell as she heard the door close. This was the seventh-day LeBlanc had refused to feed her. She lifted herself a little bit, as her legs remained unresponsive and slowly moved towards the end of the cell on her hands. She sat at the edge of it, still fixed her eyes somewhat blindly towards another angle of the cell. She paused. She seemed she had sunken in thoughts, but the pain in her stomach snapped her out of it and she wondered how long this neglect would continue, the only time she ever sees the Noxian mage is when LeBlanc wants to abuse her and the abuse was endless. The judicator wondered if she were mortal, whether a death was a merciful alternative, certainly, anything else would have been. She prayed one-day justice will be delivered to her owner and may LeBlanc suffer for all she has done, Morgana would surely be punished for allowing this to happen, after all the complicit are the most guilty. Her golden eyes slowly lifted from the floor and stared into the hallow abyss that she sleeps in. She never knew why she feared the darkness, darkness was something that her sister was more fond of. Kayle only knew it was something unnatural to her. Her eyes were hollow and terrific. She closed them, forcing to remove this pathetic image of herself from her consciousness, yet all she saw was even more darkness. She punched her knuckles against the cold stone wall, hard enough the skin to scrape against the stone and bleed. Blood became such a common sight as much as suffering did. LeBlanc had never stopped the rape until blood was running between her legs, it seemed that inflicting pain on others was the only was her owner could have an orgasm. She stared at the mess on her knuckles hysterically, she knew that causing damage to herself did not serve in her best interest as tears filled up her eyes, blurring her look. The angel ran her fingers through her white hair, tensely grabbing and pulling it down. Her cries amplified, as her sobs were transforming into frantic laughter. This was pathetic, she was pathetic! If she were still human she would have ended her own life.

After a minute of insane laughter, the judicator began to sob once more and slap herself harshly against her face, “No, I do not need the insanity to help me cope, I need to leave when freedom is opportune.”

She collapsed on the floor, taking her hand and burying her face in her bleeding hands. Kayle wept intensely as slowly her sobs reduced to small whimpers and she again sank in her painful and miserable thoughts.

Kayle did not know how much time had passed, but suddenly she heard someone unlock and open the door of the dungeons and not long after that the key sounded in the locker of the cell. She lifted her head, as she saw the gargoyle servant coming in.


"Good morning, Casséaile,” Pierre greeted, his stone eyes looked at the slave on the floor, “It is time to begin your training,” he finished bluntly as he saw the collapsed on the floor judicator and her red from the tears eyes, which were now looking straight at him. The servant immediately looked down again and as the short servant walked to the woman and stood before her with his beastly staring calmly at her:


“I am aware your legs are no longer functional, so could you please follow me to the best of your ability,” he ordered in a soft manner and turned his back for the slave to crawl on her hands behind him. She felt like an animal. Kayle followed him silently to the bottom of the stair, at the very least she was no longer in her cell. Her golden eyes stared up at the steep steps, she remembered when LeBlanc threw her down the stair, she shuddered at the thought and grasped her arms from the pain that was still embodied in her thoughts.


“How am I suppose to get up there?” Kayle questioned, her voice became raspy from the crying that was done earlier.


The servant looked at her with a surprise for a second, then as if he had realized what he had done he faced the floor again.

"You could crawl up," the gargoyle murmured somewhat ashamed by his suggestion. Kayle did not say anything more, but she watched the stone creature take a few steps on the stairs and paused to wait for the angel to crawl. The Demacian did not know why, but that was bringing her some distraction from her misery and that was all she needed right now. Once they reached the top of the stairs, Kayle was more grateful to see light filled her eyes, though she shut her eyes painfully, she did not know how her eyes were sensitive to the light. Pierre turned towards Kayle, but his head was still pointing down.


"Please follow me, Casséaile," Pierre murmured and started to lead her down the hall.


Kayle stilled. The mentioning of her new name had returned all the memories from the previous nights she spent with the cruel sorceress and she again sank miserably in the terrifying thoughts…


The gargoyle and angel remained silent as they were walking throughout the manor. The dark décor that the manor had left a lasting impression on her especially when she saw the gargoyles carrying out their task and looking at her when they pass by them. The stone creature mutter to one another once they met her eyes. However, the judicator did not feel the passing time; she thought that she had lost any track of it. Sometimes it seemed for her like everything was going very, very slowly, and she was trapped in all those horrible images of where the gargoyle was taking her that was torturing her, as what it seemed forever to her. But when the servant suddenly stopped before a large wooden door, for Kayle it appeared that she had just left, she felt the events from today just blending into blurry memories which looked more like a dream than real things.


"Mistress has asked of me to begin your training in the library, we will not be disturbed here," the servant said with his head bowed down, as he advanced to open the door of the library. Kayle looked at him then her eyes fell on the inside of the library.

The library had a dark and gothic setting to it, that Pierre pushed open the heavy swing door and went into a room with a tiled chessboard floor and about fifty shelves fanning out from a central reception area. Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, color-coded with dots, magic section arranged in alphabetical order, books that Kayle did not wish to question what does may contain, and floor cushions, comfortable leather armchairs, tables for quiet study, muffled stillness, and an uncomfortable feeling in the air.

"Only master and mistress come down to the library, but seeing as they both are not here this is where we will begin," Pierre said carelessly, as he walked further inside the library. Kayle watched him wordlessly. The gargoyle directed his stone eyes again to the floor and murmured kindly: "If you would like, we can start on a simple task such as cleaning the floors and tables,” His eyes stopped on the wingless angel on the floor.


"I will not do any sort of labor for her," Kayle drawled as in her voice deliberate could be clearly sensed as bitter and full of hatred. The servant looked inconceivably towards her and sighed.


"Casséaile, you are not left with any other options, mistress will be incredibly disappointed if you are not trained, small labor is simply one of them.”


Kayle on her turn looked at the gargoyle as if he was a moron: "What more can she do that she has not already done?!”

“Casséaile, I am aware you are incredibly upset at what all mistress has done to you but you cannot fight what had already been done," the servant affirmed with a little more asserting in his tone, realizing the slave's terseness and trying now to be at least utilitarian. He looked at the judicator somewhat compassionately, making her feel some empathy for the first time for days.


"What is the point of any of this?" Kayle started, abandoning her frustration, and sinking into self-indulgence again. "All she does is use me for her own sick gratification, being good at housework will not make a difference,” she sighed, as she looked behind to her paralyzed legs. The servant as well directed his eyes to her crippled legs, as he mumbled embarrassed:

“Well, I am not to discuss such things about our mistress, we are only here to train."

Kayle looked at the gargoyle with disgust. Usually, Pierre gets those look from his beastly face though his stare was solely from his words.


"I guess you are not supposed to," she said incongruously. She paused, observing the numb reaction of the servant. "For goodness sake, is everybody in Noxus afraid of her?" she asked disgusted by the thought of the sorceress.


"Not afraid, Casséaile," Pierre corrected her, "but respecting her, She is the Matron of the Black Rose and they heavily influenced the war in the favor of Noxus," he mumbled a little more self-assured. The judicator exhaled empirically but did not say anything more. The argument was pointless. It was clear that she could not get any sympathy from the LeBlanc's servants, why had she even bothered. The servant stood there for some moments, with his head bowed down and his horns pointing towards Kayle, as if he did not desire the conversation to finish. Pierre looked again towards the slightly dusted library floor and after that towards Kayle.


"If you do not desire to learn from this lesson then mistress will have a small discussion with you afterward on your insubordination and you may be aware of what will transpire. But I advise you, Casséaile, that Lady LeBlanc would not be pleased neither with you nor with me for I have not succeeded to do my chores," the gargoyle acknowledged with some threats in his words.


"Wait," the angel dropped suddenly. The gargoyle's undying respect towards the matron was greatly infuriating her, but Kayle did not desire to be abused even more than she already has. Conservation with the stone creature have made her at least for some time to forget her terrible memories with LeBlanc, and that was all she needed right now even if she was forced to clean.


"What is it?" the servant asked as his eyes narrowed towards the Demacian.


"You are saying you would be in trouble if I am not trained?" Kayle asked disbelievingly.


"Correct, Casséaile."


"Because LeBlanc had asked of you to train me?"


"Yes, Casséaile," the servant confirmed, advancing back to the huddled on the floor slave. He started hoping that he could finally encourage her to clean the library and learn some rules. They both paused for a moment.


"Will she break you if you fail to do this?” Kayle questioned the gargoyle revoltingly. Pierre was taken aback from her words or that she even suggested that.
"Of course not, mistress would never do such a thing," Pierre returned quickly as if the idea was utterly ridiculous.


" I highly doubt so, just what kind of a fool do you take me for? I am positive you are not as ignorant to her cruelty as you perceive your “merciful mistress”, you honestly believe I do not see through your pathetic lies?!”


Pierre gritted his stone teeth in anger but remained a calm posture, as the judicator face turned red from her outburst:


" Casséaile…"


Pierre could not finish his sentence, Kayle punched herself in the face out of frustration and piercingly burst into tears that fell down her red face. She hated to always do this to herself and others, but she desperately needed to take out her anger and sorrow on anyone besides herself. Her cries and screams increased.


"I know you are upset… you need to stop this,” the servant calmly said., he was familiar with these emotions in these new slaves. Kayle did not seem to pay attention to his words. She had struck herself in the face more and more and it was beginning to cause blood to pool down her face and was intermittently crying like a mad woman. To Pierre, self-harming was something he had never seen occur in new slaves. He was shocked and stared at her, not really sure what to do as Kayle continued this self-battering for another minute. Pierre needed to calm her down and decided to walk closer and reach his claws to her but Kayle screamed when she saw the hand move towards her and moved back the best she could.


"Get your hands off me!” Kayle shrieked. The servant startled and took his stone claws back proximately.


"Casséaile, please stop harming yourself, it will cause you nothing more than further pain," Pierre said sympathetically.


“Please…can we stop talking about this…?" The judicator asked, mostly mumbling to herself.


“Of course, we can discuss something else,” the gargoyle replied, implying at the task that needed to be completed.


Kayle knew he was talking about the chores, but she nodded anyway, she wanted to speak of anything else than LeBlanc. She noticed a large mirror hanged on the wall in front of her. She stared at it as her gold eyes started uncontrollably to move all over her appearance. She saw her shoulders and arms, which had bite marks all over them from LeBlanc’s biting; her sickly pale skin, but in the same time red from the tears tortuous face; and her white hair, falling in disorder and bits covered in dry blood. Her face was completely covered in bruises and scratches, and she was beginning to get skinny from her neglect.


“Well, to begin on your training we will need you to first clean the library floor and see how well you follow instructions,” Pierre said, handing Kayle a damp towel with a fresh scent of a flower on it.

“I recommend you first begin at the door and make your way like a line throughout the library. After that, we can see your results, sound good?"

Kayle nodded numbly and began to scrub the marble title of the library. The black and white marble was not as dirty as she thought and looked rather spotless, then what was the point of doing this?

“What difference will this make?” she thought as she scrubbed harder against the eighth tile she cleaned to see if it made much of a difference. None. The angel remembered when she and her twin would rotate on where they would clean throughout the house in Demacia. They both loved to clean the bedroom so they can snoop through each other belongings and maybe steal from each other, Kayle smiled miserably when she remembered the time she found love letters written by the boys in the village in Morgana’s drawers, each letter was very unoriginal and as unmoving as the last one, it usually consisted of Morgana’s beauty and how they wished to marry her. After wiping down each tile in the book aisle and scrubbing under the table, she looked to see how much had passed. Three hours had passed once she finished cleaning the floor. Being paralyzed waist down made cleaning difficult to her, there was no quick way to clean when she is crawling on the dirt.


“I must be dirt…” Kayle thought miserably to herself. She glanced over at the gargoyle, Pierre back was facing her and he was sitting at one of the tables and reading a book he grabbed from the shelves. Quietly, the judicator crawled behind him just enough to see what he was reading.

It was a picture consisting of a brown-haired middle-aged woman stripped down and her nudity being exposed to those in the background of the picture and blood running between her legs. There was a rope around her neck and was hanging in mid-air with a distressed look on her face. The words on top of the painting were small but enough for Kayle to read.

“Lascivious,” she read out loud, which startled the gargoyle reading it. Pierre turned around and looked at the slave.


“Are you finished?”


“Yes,” she replied quietly.

Pierre hastily closed the black book he was reading and quickly got off the seat, “Good, let us have a look.”

“You missed a few spots under the chairs but tomorrow you may learn to clean properly, otherwise you did rather fine,” he complimented inspecting the glossy floor then turned his back to the clock, “We may need to work on your timing…”


Kayle did not pay attention to the gargoyle and was looking blindly towards the window and staring at the sky. She could almost feel the warm sun out there on her skin and the fluffy white clouds that floated above her. She conjectured how something that she took for granted every day could miss so much, she missed flying through those clouds and the cold breezes against her feather. Her eyes shifted towards the stone angelic wings of the gargoyle that was mumbling about time and further training. She wondered if he could fly with those wings. Indeed, the gargoyle was a creation of Emilia LeBlanc, and she hated being around anyone associated with the sorceress, but she did not wish to return to the dungeons and be left to be sexually abused by LeBlanc. It had only been one week since her enslavement and insanity was reaching her. She needs to speak to someone- even if it came from a gargoyle.


"Casséaile, are you listening to me?” the low voice of the gargoyle said, staring at the slave.


"Please, stop calling me that!" the judicator shouted unexpectedly.




"That name…I hate that name….stop calling me that name."


"I don’t understand…"


"Casséaile….that name hurts me every time I hear it, it’s like you are her…she had the audacity to call me by that name….please call me anything else than that…”


"Ok…Demacian," the servant said somewhat awkward.


"Pierre is your name, correct?" Kayle inquired softly.

"Correct." The gargoyle nodded his head.

"Means ‘stone’,” Kayle drawled absent-mindedly as her eyes drifted somewhere else.


"Yes it does, now if you excuse me, you already cleaned the floor so we must head back,” Pierre said as she stepped away from the wingless angel. Kayle did not reply, she seemed she have not heard him until the gargoyle walked towards the library door.


"Where are we going?” the angel suddenly said, as she turned towards the servant.


"You have finished cleaning, there is nothing more to do with your disability, so we must head back to the dungeons. Tomorrow we will work on the living room," Pierre explained, walking back to the slave.


"What? No...please don’t take me back…can we stay a little longer…?" Kayle asked, stuttering desperately not wanting to go back to the dungeons. Pierre hesitated for a moment then nodded in agreement. He walked next to Kayle and sat beside her. “Do you have any questions?"


"How long will this training go on for?" Kayle asked after a pause, wanting to engage in some random conversation with the stone creature.


"Lady LeBlanc said your housework training will take three weeks to complete," the Demacian nodded. Pierre was not sure if it was a good idea to mention his mistress again in front of her.


“How many other gargoyle servants are there?”


"There are twenty of us in the manor…each of us are assigned certain roles and by the end of the day, we turn back to stones outside of the manor to guard until the next morning. I am the head servant of the manor, which was why I was assigned to you for your training,” the gargoyle explained in monotone.


“So, I will end up like them," the judicator said sharply, but then she silenced as well. "So, why are you their favorite servant…do you appeal to them more than the others?" she asked after curious to what made Pierre different from the other servants.


"I am not sure if I understand what you mean by that," Pierre said confused, lightly scratching his horns in confusion.


"If you are the head servant then you must be their favorite… LeBlanc and Swain are filled with disgust and cruelty…I do not understand why you are their head servant." The servant's stone eyes directed to the floor embarrassed. Kayle realized what she said even though it was not what she meant, "I do not mean it like that…..I was just.."


"I did not find offense in your question," the gargoyle mumbled somewhat instinctively. "the answer is simple: I have been here the longest….nothing more," Pierre said as he interrupted her sentence and bent his head further down. The judicator breathes out loudly, as a peal of miserable laughter rang through the silenced library.


"So she gave you wings and you are to stay in servitude since your creation," Kayle said and stopped as tears filled up her eyes. Pierre looked up at her unknowing what to say, she just stared at her and looked behind to back to view his wings. He did not know what to say to her. He was never one to see his wings as a means to escape as did the angel.

"I do not have any right to ask and stop me if I had somehow offended you," the gargoyle finally started, "but you seemed to be one that takes pride in your wings, even when you tried to escape, you flew with such grace, did your wings means that greatly to you?"


"Yes, it did. My wings mean the world to me, it felt like it was all I had left of my mother…my wings made me feel the freedom that I never felt before and now it is a freedom that will no longer return to me.”


"I understand what you mean, wings do symbolize freedom that everyone deserves,” Pierre sympathizes, forgetting any appropriate boundaries that he was told to set. Kayle smiled, unfortunately.


"I do not think you do, you lived your whole life in servitude the idea of freedom would be something LeBlanc would not want you to think,” the angel said sadly. "I envy you- it must feel good to never have been abused by LeBlanc," Kayle said unhappily towards the servant. Pierre's stone eyes focused to the floor again and he did not say anything. They both paused, but the curiosity got the better of Pierre and he dared to ask again:

"Forgive me for asking, but I do not understand.…do you believe I was created by mistress?"


"Yes…you are a gargoyle….she had to have created you with magic," Kayle stuttered disconcertingly, she did not understand the servant question. Pierre bent his head again and silence filled up the room. Pierre broke it again after some time had passed:

"You are not completely incorrect, I am created by my mistress but I did exist even before my current state,” Pierre whispered, not making any eye contact with the slave.


Kayle moved back slightly, a painful realization crossed her mind when she remembered the other gargoyles in the manor, LeBlanc had mentioned she previously owned slaves that died, were they all…


"That…can not be..," she whispered as she sank in some thoughts. "But…she could not have…that’s blasphemy...," she said after a pause. “Are you…”


“A human before my transformation? I was,” Pierre interrupted Kayle and nodded in confirmation.


The moment she realized she had misinterpreted Pierre’s actions, his words, his expressions all this time... as if he had been speaking a language she could not understand... that moment his words stopped was the moment her heart the whole world had changed before her eyes, the loss of words says more.

"You were human before..” Kayle stretched out her words as if her brain was shutting down from the revelation. All of the servants in the manor were former slaves of LeBlanc, but she had said they all perished. "Please, tell me. I just wish not to think about what is happening right now with me. What could have possibly happened to you so to respect LeBlanc so much? If you were her former slave then she must have torture you, why?"


"It is not like that…" Pierre started out hesitantly. "I had been in servitude for so long," he stopped, debating over something, but after a moment continued, "But there is something you need to know," he looked at her and started:

“I was her first slave, over nine-hundred years ago I was purchased at the slave market by mistress. I believe I was from what is now known as Shurima but the memory of my childhood there escapes me. There are many things I do not remember when I was human; my appearance, my family, my home, my age, or even my name. It is all a blur. I was a labor slave used by Lady LeBlanc and one for comfort whenever she asked of me. Like yourself, I resisted her for months and I was tortured for it. Then one day after a torture session, I never recovered, I thought death would finally free me from my enslavement. However, mistress knew what to do to keep me bounded to her. She used a spell to transfer my soul to a gargoyle statue outside her manor, so now I was to be her slave for the entirety. I did try to break myself many times and failed each time, I knew it would never end. Yet, after a few years under her servitude, I was treated with kindness, love, and I simply accepted this fate, I loved her for all she done to me. The same occurred for every other gargoyle, all of her former slaves that perished under her influence, we all learned to love mistress for who she was. I know she has done many cruel things to you and you want to escape, but we thought the same.”


Words left Kayle. She stared into the stone eyes of Pierre, and her heart fell silent. But the judicator could not find the will to speak. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as the gargoyle explained his past. But Kayle’s mind was blank and her gold eyes wide as she stared at him in horror. His stone eyes desperately searched the gold ones… waiting.

“You have been trapped here all this time then I will be….” Kayle breathed out in horror, her mind was scrambled and screaming grew louder in her head.

“I am sorry, but you will learn to love her, we all do,” Pierre paused then continued, “You are immortal, it is not as if she will turn you into us. Please…do not hurt yourself….you will be perfect…” Pierre said soothingly, his tone was found to be psychotic. He was mad, they were all mad. All the gargoyles went insane from their enslavement.

The gargoyle stood up and walked in front of Kayle, who was lost in her thoughts, “Come, we must get back before mistress returns,” Pierre said calmly and motioned for the slave to follow him back. Kayle numbly nodded and crawled to the servants.

There is a silence in Kayle’s soul; she was a fall leaf under frost. The judicator feels the chill in her blood, coldness bringing the synapses of her brain to a standstill. Part of it is a pain, yet one she can endure, one she can sleep through night after night without the anesthesia of false hope. No one here was going to help her, they were driven to insanity and now they live as stones. This is her life; a living being in the soul of stone.

Chapter Text

Kayle lay on her stomach listening to the sorceress hum merrily. Since Swain had left the room early LeBlanc grew bored and summoned Kayle to the room to “entertain her”. The bite marks and blood running from the wounds on her backside did suggest LeBlanc had a depraved view on entertainment. The Noxian just as much as told her that she was seen as nothing more than a toy to be used. She did hear the mage mutter something about seeing her lover later in the day.

"You are a cold-blooded witch," Kayle said, not realizing LeBlanc was listening to her.


"Yes, Casséaile, I am," she agreed to exchange her cigar for her brandy. She held the cigar out for the slave to see. "In my line of work, it pays to be cold-blooded. Times have changed, but deception has not," Leblanc waved the red tip of the cigar before the angel's eyes. "Do you see how slowly this burns? How hot the flame within is?"

She inched back, not quite trusting the Noxian would not deliver on the threat to burn her. "I see it, Emilia LeBlanc," she replied in a tight voice.

"My but they do raise them feisty in your nation, do they not?" She mocked. "But then you took a rather bleak turn in your life once you took a hold of your ‘judicator duties’. You might have been different had you been raised in Noxus, yet I doubt it," she placed the cigar in her mouth and stroked Kayle’s white hair with her other hand. "Jericho will certainly take a liking to you once he sees you."

"See’s me? Are you taking me to him?" She asked thinking of the day she stumbled in his office during her attempted escape and was caught by the grand general.

"Yes, Casséaile, I am." The sorceress looked down at her. "I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"It would be rather unrealistic to assume I would act how you desire me to…" Kayle spat back angrily.

"You are correct to assume such a thing, but if you disrespect him in any way I will be sure to make your previous torture a mere slap in comparison to what I have in store for you, Casséaile and no one will help you, " LeBlanc threatened with a sinister and libidinously tone.

Deflated the judicator lay still.

The matron smiled and lightly chuckled. "So much for ‘justice’, Casséaile. I do recall that you smite others, but you will not gain any justice here."

"How long will this go on?" Kayle asked in a miserable voice realizing the truth behind LeBlanc’s words.

"Until your training has been successfully completed,” the purple-haired woman replied, "You are a slow learner. Nevertheless, with more ‘discipline’ you will become perfect in no time."

"By discipline, you mean further torture, do you ever grow weary of it?" the judicator asked sounding wounded.

Looking down at her LeBlanc shook her head, "I have had a taste of you, and find myself hungry for more," she patted her head like a pet. "Your training must take persistence, my dear. Be a good slave and you will be rewarded. Disobey me and you will be punished."

Fire flamed in her gold eyes. "I despise you."

"Of course you do," the matron placed the cigar down, rolled over and covered the Demacian with her body. "Wait until you get to know me, dear…you have no idea of the depths of abhorrence, revulsion and hatred I intend to take you to~" Her soft hand moved over the slave with skills she had developed over centuries of dealing with slaves use to rough treatment. "Lesson two, your mistress demands will be met."

"No, get off me,” Kayle begged. "Not again."

"Again and again, and again, little one," she crooned in her ear. "I will find many ways to hurt, to make you bleed over and over until you can find pleasure in it."

"Stop!" She cried out as her sensitive skin was crushed by LeBlanc’s sharp nails. Her wrists and shoulders were pained with each movement.

"We have all day, Casséaile," she knelt behind Kayle, her knees moving her paralyzed legs apart. "I do hope you are not weary from the last hour," she conversed as if she were speaking on the weather. Leblanc pulled the judicator to her knees and rested her rump against the mages pelvis. "What a lovely ass you have my sweet girl," LeBlanc crooned in her elf-like ear.

"No…" She cried out. "Oh Gods, no!"

LeBlanc took Kayle’s ear lobe in her teeth. "No, sweet angel, I have no desire to sodomize you, not when riding you like a real bitch is so rewarding. I have told you sodomy is not something I fancy. Lesson three; Satisfying and gratifying your mistress must be your main ambition and objective hereafter. Your desires and needs are no longer of importance." She held her close as her other hand massaged the abused nipple on her left breast. "In time," she boasted, "you will not only enjoy my touch but will actually crave and beg for it."

Through clenched teeth Kayle gritted. "When the heavens fall!"

“Then I must be blessed to have dragged its angel down,” the sorceress giggled. The arm at her waist tightened, then relaxed. "Casséaile, I am being as tolerant with you as I can be. This is your last warning. You will address me with respect."

"I would rather burn, LeBlanc," she repeated adding her formal title refusing to call the matron mistress again if she could help it. Kayle’s eyes shot up when searching pain shot up her the wounds where her wings were like fire. She cringed. LeBlanc pressed the hot end of the cigar against the closed socket of her back. It exploded in her head with a blinding whiteness. It made her nauseous. It made her reel. The pain was like needles that had been dipped in lava had been jammed through her skin. LeBlanc smiled. "We shall see about that, keep this talk up and you can become my new ashtray," the sorceress rubs her fingers on the opening of Kayle’s womanhood and stopped her teasing. She pulled back, Kayle did not know whether the Noxian was staring at something or not.

“Well, what do you know~” LeBlanc mused, mostly surprised by what she felt.

The angel turned her head back to stare at the matron in a perplexed manner, “Know what?”

LeBlanc grinned libidinously, she seemed pleasantly surprised by the discovery, “Purity.”


The sorceress pushed her fingers inside the judicator, causing an uncomfortable pain in her womanhood, the next words sent chills and fear down her spine, “Your hymen, it’s still here.”

Kayle’s gold eyes widened and felt like her voice was struck with silence, she had been raped many times by the matron, how was it possible she still had her hymen?

“Angel’s are the embodiment of virtue, I suppose it makes sense your hymen reattached. I have a pure angel to please me, how lovely~” LeBlanc’s voice grew sinisterly and filled with the lust to cause harm to the virtue angel. The Noxian pulled the angel into a position that aligned the strap-on against her hymen and mounted her roughly. "My fine angel," the dark mage growled in her ear. Kayle screamed as LeBlanc pressed into her sensitive cavity. "I can ravish your purity more than once, I will enjoy this," Her free hand to the leash into the collar, fashioning it into a makeshift rein and used the end to urge the judicator to move her hips, which proved difficult with her disability.

Kayle clenched through her teeth as LeBlanc thrust the toy harder into her, breaking her hymen. The angel sobbed out in pain as she felt the blood of her purity running down her legs once again, but clenched her teeth to avoid biting her lips. She was suffering, and this was really only the beginning. The judicator did not wish to think that her pain will increase just as LeBlanc’s cruelty.
Luckily for Kayle, after twenty minutes of the assault, LeBlanc thrusting became more sloppy and moaned heavily, as she released it all inside the angel. The sorceress jaggedly pushed into her, breathing deeply, as she sank her teeth deep into Kayle’s back, causing further pain the Demacian. At least LeBlanc was satisfied.

LeBlanc, feeling more contented then she had felt in a century released there in and allowed the angel to fall exhausted to the mattress. "Very good, Casséaile, very good." the Noxian moved away from her, settling into her pillows and took another sip of her brandy. "Very good indeed," she praised. "For a novice, you have a natural gift."

Repulsed, the judicator refused to look at her. "You're a monster,” she whispered.

The matron looked down, her face held amusement. "Such spirit, my dear little Casséaile," she smiled wickedly at the abused slave. "One can not help but admire your fortitude and moral fiber, a hypocritical one but still admirable. It would be a pity to break such a life-force, such strength of mind is very appealing," LeBlanc stroked her hair almost lovingly. "I shall bring you to rein, but I will not break your spirit…. Your spirit is one of your most alluring assets," LeBlanc sipped the brandy and stroked her almost tenderly. "I would prefer not to have to use the cat or any other whip on you. Flaying you would be a lovely sight to behold, but I do not wish to flay you whole,”

Exhausted and fearful by the idea of being flayed, she closed her eyes, not hearing the sorceress anymore. She would rather be anywhere else but here.

LeBlanc heard her breathing got deeper, and she placed the brandy on the side. She rolled to her side and leaned into Kayle’s ear, "You think blocking this out will change my intentions?" She whispered softly. "But we will have to postpone that, your master wishes to see you, Casséaile~"

The judicators breath seemed to stutter in her lungs before she let it go, feeling the tension rise in her body. Swain wanted to see her, she wondered if Swain was as sadistic as his lover was. Her breathing returned to normal when she realized this was bound to happen eventually, she would rather face him now then wait.

LeBlanc sat up and stretched, feeling wickedly alive, “Jericho will be fond of you, that I know," she tugged on the leash, urging Kayle to move.

Kayle struggled to move at first but eventually moved off the bed with her hands. The Demacian closed her eyes and told herself not to look, not to hear, not to respond. It would do neither of them any good. The white-haired angel busied herself with her own thoughts as they made their way through the hallways, Stirling up whispers and giggled among the gargoyles. She then tapped on the door to give her lover a signal of her presences. "Here with Casséaile, darling. "

"Come in," Swain deep and a dull voice said inside the office.

LeBlanc opened the door and pulled the girl upright again to force her in the room. Swain eyes rose from his paper and laid them on the slave, he got off from his seat and walked over to the slave in an almost intimidating manner. Kayle kept her head down, not wishing to look at the half-demon in the eyes. Swain softly held the judicators chin with his demon hand and forced her to look at him. His expression was calm but also unpredictable he moved her head side to side to inspect the bruises and cuts all over her face. After he finished he turned to LeBlanc:

“What did you do to it?” he asked in a dull tone, referring to Kayle as an inferior being that did not deserve to be treated well.

“I am training it, it is a slow learner, but it will learn nonetheless,” the sorceress replied smiling proudly at her work.

“Parts of the skin of its neck is gone, as are the wings,” Swain drawled, his eyes roaming on the slaves back where its wings once were.

The sorceress laughed nonchalantly, “Skinned a few areas, removed others.”

“I thought to use it to stop the rebellion but it looks as if it is useless to me. We gained Demacia and the civilian population is making the occupation more difficult, this thing would have been a valuable tool, instead it became your plaything,” he scowled in a soft, yet dark tone.

“You should be aware my only intention to buy it was to play, you never mentioned any of your occupation tactics," the matron returned defensively. 


The grand General sighed in disappointment and turned his cold gaze to the wingless slave in a distrustful manner.

“You are sure to discuss this in front of the slave? it can’t be trusted in the presences of an enemy,” the grand general shot Kayle a disgusting look as if the slave was full of diseases.

LeBlanc clicked her tongue and smiled, “Kayle was our enemy, but Casséaile will never think to betray us,”

“How so?” Swain asked.

The matron leaned up and whispered seductively in her lover's ears: “I will show you, my love,”

“Come here, Casséaile," Kayle watched LeBlanc's emotionless expression with fear, but it remained the same. The Noxian walked to one of the chairs and sat down. Doing as she was told to avoid further torture, she crawled to the sorceress. Swain remained a closer and emotionless expression as the scene played out before him. The judicator took into consideration she did not want to be burned or whipped again. As she kneeled in front of the matron, she was perplexed when her foot was extended outwards next to her face.

"Clean it," silence passed for a short while before Kayle looked up at her speechless. This was new. "Y-You want me to… to…" LeBlanc nodded. "I want you to use your tongue, and clean your owner's foot. I expect you to work as hard as you did yesterday as well"

She looked LeBlanc’s foot, it was rather clean, there was no dirt or other mess on her foot, it looked as clean and smooth as a porcelain doll. The thought of actually sticking her tongue on LeBlanc's feet was revolting. "M-Mistress, I, I can't…"

Sighing, LeBlanc sat upwards before gripping the back of Kayle's white hair. "I don't recall saying if you please, Casséaile. Lick my foot, that's an order!" She hissed angrily before releasing her grip on the angel's hair. As her head was shoved back, the Demacian felt tears come to her eyes again. She looked back at Swain's calm and collected eyes watching the humiliation.

“It’s unnecessary to provoke her…this is because I must, nothing else…” Biting her lip, she closed her eyes before moving her face closer to LeBlanc's foot. As she extended her tongue, she groaned at the taste that followed. She could clearly taste the salty flavor of LeBlanc's sweat, it was repulsing!

She had to be grateful that the Noxians foot was not as filthy as it could have been, the thought made her shudder in disgust. With the grand general watching this take place this was beyond humiliation, she really was worthless… LeBlanc smiled as she saw Kayle's pained expression with every lick she gave. The look the angel gave after each stroke of her tongue was an arousing sight to behold.

LeBlanc removed her eyes from the Demacian slave and looked up to her lover, “My love, it is foolish to worry that the Demacians will be any threat to the empire, the rebellion is as weak as the army was. There is no one to rally to their that Jarvan the fourth is dead…”

Kayle immediately stopped in her place, she just stares with wide open-eyed cannot shut, like the whole world is breaking crumble apart around her… she didn't even shake... Just where she was in total paralysis without realizing what had happened to Jaravn. Like her fear, it played again in her mind as if somehow her brain was unwilling to let those words go and in its attempt to analyze them it made her see it all over again. Simple words, Jarvan is dead, simple words seeped through her mind like so much sand in an hourglass. She stared at a complete loss of words. LeBlanc felt Kayle’s tongue stop moving and looked down at her with a mocking sympathetic look.

“I forgot you weren’t aware…” the sorceress whispered mockingly at Kayle, “Jarvan the fourth is dead...I am sorry but Jericho ordered for his head to be taken. How does that you make you feel?”

There was absolute stillness. No one spoke a single word. Not a sound could be heard either close at hand or in the far off distance. Even Swain’s own breath seemed to die as soon as it left his mouth. Swain kept quiet and stared intensely at the slave, he could tell a wave of guilt washed over her like she is trapped in a sea storm, her whole body was shaking a dramatic sense that he thought Kayle would bite LeBlanc any moment and it seems his lover was expecting too.

Instead, Kayle continued her quiet licking and brushed her tongue over the mages nail, she was beginning to sob, LeBlanc smiled at her actions. "Wise decision, Casséaile ." Moving her foot back to the judicator's face, the white-haired angel bit back her words before licking in between her toes.

As her tongue traveled between the matron's toes, she could taste the salty sweat caught between the digits. Groaning, she wanted to spit out the flavor, but she knew, she would be punished for her actions. Once she was finished with the foot, Kayle pulled away disgusted as she wiped the taste away with her hands. The lingering words would haunt her for the rest of her life… LeBlanc looked her foot over again while humming.

"Very good, Casséaile, You did an excellent job," she chirped happily before standing up. She walked up to the grand general and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I told you she is obedient.”


“Ah good, you finally brought the food," Leblanc said with a pleasant smile on her face.

"This is a new tactic, my lady," Pierre said boldly, and then looked down quickly. "It has been at least two weeks since Casséaile has had any food, mistress. She looked listless and weak if you beg my pardon."

LeBlanc looked back at the cell Kayle was in. "indeed, it is," she looked back at the tray, with a single piece of meat on it.

"Is this supposed to be physical or mental torture?" the gargoyle asked curiously.

"Neither," she said taking the tray into her own hands. "This is a reward for behaving with Swain.”

"I understand, mistress." Pierre bowed and moved up the stairs. The sorceress walked back the cell where the slave was.

“Here you are, Casséaile, a reward for behaving,” the Noxian cruelly mocked.

The matron had brought in a strange meal, it appeared to be a small piece of meat cooked medium rare on her plate. Kayle was not fond of meat but she could not decipher where the meat had come from, it looked like it came from a bird from its shape, but the red meat and the way it had been cooked had her believed it was beef. The origin did not bother her, it bothered her that LeBlanc believed she would eat it.

LeBlanc glanced up from her table she summoned in the dungeon. Kayle just glowered at her from the cross, the ingrate. For the first time since her two-week enslavement, the sorceress actually brings food for the wingless slave, and the stubborn little thing had refused her.

At this rate, Kayle would be useless. The judicator had grown so weak from the neglect of basic needs that soon enough she would be a hollow shell of skin and bones. It would not have come much of a surprise if Kayle organs might be digested, it is not as if the angel can die. The pest probably considered if starvation might end her immortality if her body is too weak to carry her soul. LeBlanc could simply transfer her soul or let the angel end her life. She could be nice. She was being nice.

"You are not eating, Casséaile," chided LeBlanc. She gestured her staff at the platter of food. "It is not poisoned."

The sorceress walked over to the slave and lifted one of the thick pieces of meat that stretched off from the other cooked muscles and took a bite from it. She chewed on it slowly and swallowed it down in a ladylike fashion. Her expression to the taste showed a pleasant surprise to the flavor of the meat, "It's rather good, even."

Kayle's scowl deepened, "I do not want anything from you, monster," she spat back pridefully.

Those words rang into the ears of Emilia LeBlanc, she felt a seed in her gut, something dark and fiery.

"Care to repeat that?" she snapped. The Noxian closed the distance between them. Kayle stared back at the matron, and for a moment she looked like the warrior she uses to be in Demacia, not just a wingless slave. There was a defiance in her. It would need to be crushed if Kayle were to ever truly be hers.

"I do not want anything from you. Monster," repeated Kayle even as LeBlanc's lips were almost against hers. This bravery would surely be destroyed

LeBlanc grabbed the angel by the chin with one hand, while stuffing a chunk of meat into the Demacina’s mouth.

"You will take what I give you, and you will like it," snarled the matron.

Kayle choked and struggled as the food blocked her breath. She tried to bite down as two of LeBlanc's fingers forced the meat further back, but the Noxian's grip on her chin only tightened. The judicator eyes watered up as the meat was choking her hard enough to force her to swallow it. The light meat juice oozing over both LeBlanc's fingers and Kayle’s mouth. In the fight, it dribbled down from lips and ran down her chin. Kayle's lips were stained clear, flecks of solid sections mixed in.

A slow gurgling rumble rose from Kayle's stomach. Her body betrayed her. The little angel had liked it. She probably liked having LeBlanc's fingers in her mouth as well. The way she had her tongue on them, letting her teeth graze against them. The little thing had even bitten at her a little, trying to play coy.

"Now be a good slave and swallow," ordered LeBlanc, in a low tone.

Kayle obeyed, juices of the meat streaming across her face as the sorceress pulled back. LeBlanc followed the motion through the angel's neck and down to her breast. The mage could be so graceful when she behaved. In time LeBlanc would get plenty of use out of her. Once Kayle felt the meat reach to her abdomen her head dropped, and she panted slowly. The sorceress licked her own fingers clean, then leaned back in, letting her lips rest by Kayle’s temple.

"You are quite a messy eater aren't you?" she hissed. LeBlanc's left hand snaked down Kayle’s chest, she had certainly skinny but not enough to say she was skin and bones. She let her hand rest on the judicators breasts. "More like some common whore, than the wings of Demacia"

Kayle thrashed and wiggled, against the gesture, but all it did was give LeBlanc a firmer grasp. She gave the slave a knowing squeeze then turned her attention back to the meal, there still was some meat on the plate.

Kayle felt sick to her stomach. The food had eased the pain of hunger, but the matron had only disgusted her. She knew what the monster of a woman had in mind for her. She did not realize it right away, but it became apparent quickly. It was in the way she smiled, or the way her breath caught when the judicator cried.

The Demacian did not look at her. Her lips felt sticky as the juices of the meat began to dry. It mingled with the blood and filth, leaving another layer of filth on her. It was not as if LeBlanc ever lets her have a bath, that was considered a privilege as well. The mage prodded her breast firmly. Old wounds throbbed with pain and new ones were being made.

"Now, I will try this again, and you will be neater this time," she ordered. There was whimsy in her voice. "Or I will pull those nasty teeth from your head."

LeBlanc plucked the last bits of meat from the plate and held it firmly. The sorceress prodded the meat against Kayle’s tightly shut lips. The rich scent of the strange meat made her stomach turn again, and the perverse leer on LeBlanc's face made it all the more humiliating.

Then of course, if Kayle lost her teeth maybe she could finally die though. Be done with this living hell. What was she thinking? She can’t die, why does she also believe death is her only option? An option she will never get.

"Come now. Open your mouth, Casséaile," cooed the Noxian softly. Her free hand gave the judicator's inner thigh a rough squeeze.

Kayle gasped when LeBlanc’s hand moved further up. She trailed her finger on the slave's womanhood. The matron slid the meat into the slave's mouth, sticking her fingers in slowly. It felt like both ends of her were being probed and invaded. Kayle squirmed uncomfortably, the soft pounding in her crotch and the rich meat making her feel nauseous. She noticed the meat tasted of something she never tasted before, it tasted like strong meat, almost like pork but stronger, almost overwhelming.

"Good girl~"

Kayle did as she was told and chewed off as much of the meats as she could manage. Leblanc slowed the speed of her hand and took a moment to look over the judicator. Food, filth, and dried blood covered her, an some of the fights had left her gold eyes. LeBlanc wiped her hand off on the slave's rags and smirked

The purple-haired sorceress gave Kayle a knowing squeeze on her breast. LeBlanc then pushed the meat further down Kayle's throat, her tongue jutting forward as she began to gag. The angel felt something soft caught her throat that was not the meat being shoved down her throat, it became difficult to breathe shortly after. LeBlanc’s finger left her mouth to let the angel cough, the cough sounded loose and wet like thick phlegm mucus was sliding up and down her throat with each violent expulsion of air.

After a short while, something small, soft and ticklish come out of her mouth, it was not the meat she was eating, it was a…..feather? Kayle was still trying to catch her breath from the hacking and was at a loss of words for the feather found in the meat. It was the top part of a white feather, it was covered in saliva and the white feather follicle was disoriented, it looked to be torn from the force-feeding. It still made her wonder what was a feather doing in the food?

“ here?” Kayle asked innocently in between panting.

She looked up to LeBlanc’s sinister smile, a smile that is when she knows something the others do not, a smile made to find pleasure in others suffering.


“You know,” she started in an amused tone, making sure the slave would hear every word of this, “After I tore your wings off, I planned to hang them in the living room for all to see, but I hear angel wings are nutritious and come rarely these days~”


As the matron scanned her slave's face for a reaction the silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. At first, there was silence. A misty haze upon the horizons of the judicators mind. That's where she kept everything, in her mind. LeBlanc expected her to crumble, wail or dissolve into tears, but she did none of those things. Instead, she stared down at the white feather like her life depended on it. LeBlanc had feed Kayle her own severed wings. Yet Kayle stared at her feather like a robot but LeBlanc knew she hadn't taken it in. The silence in the room lingered in the air, thick and heavy, like a blanket. The silence sept into her wound like her own, personal shadow. She was eating her own wings. Kayle’s back staggered backward, her mind swirling, her breaths shallow until she fell in a heap to the floor, she was eating her wings, the wings she flew ones, the ones she was eating. That was until now. Kayle could feel the hard painful lump in the back of her throat as the tears began to form. Slowly her breathing hallowed itself and a small but intense pain struck the top nerve in her head. Before she knew it there was shouting, her voice, yet they seemed so distant those were her wings. Tears streaked her face. Time had fast forward. The judicator couldn't remember the briefest of moments, all she saw was the feather she was holding, her tear-stained rags. Kayle even recognized her own voice repeating, "No,no,no,no,no."

In what felt like intense pain building in her throat, Kayle screamed. The scream tore through the angel like a great shard of glass. She felt her gold eyes widen and pulse quicken, her heart thudding like thunder in the clouds. The scream came again, desperate, terrified... human. The blood drained from her face before she was even aware of making a conscious decision she dug her nails into the skin of her face, peeling back layers of skin and blood was running down her face. The wave of nausea that hit Kayle was so intense that caused the crippled angel to leap her back forward and let the food out of her stomach, which only made more vomit stream from her mouth. It burst from her throat, practically choking her. Hot tears spilled from her eyes as futile whimpers for help spilled out from the trembling voice.

LeBlanc was watching Kayle’s breakdown in amusement, seeing the Demaicans face when she realized she was eating her own wings was entertaining, almost arousing to the matron. A grin spread over LeBlanc face, wide and open, showing her over-whitened teeth. At that moment her sadistic nature was laid bare; she was a mocker, one who enjoyed whatever torment she could inflict on others.

"I think I would like some dessert," the sorceress chuckled. LeBlanc used her magic to pull the slave to her. She lay a strong hand on Kayle's trembling wrist and forced a kiss onto her. LeBlanc's tongue was warm and invasive, crushing their lips together.

"Try to bite me and I will cobble you, my little cannibal," she warned the slave, smiling all the more devious. The angel's wrist aches under the mages firm grip. The candles in the cell cast their shadows like monsters fighting each other. Kayle's cheeks flushed red and she screamed on the top of her lungs.

"No!" she croaked, looking away from the matron. LeBlanc ground her teeth and rose from the chair. Her free hand gently pushed the white hair from Kayle's face, her own scowling visage hovering in front of hers. LeBlanc’s face was a cruel grin, but the worst of it was her eyes. The Noxians amber eyes looked directly into Kayle's and there was something new in them now. LeBlanc shoved the slave down over the table, the magic chains twisting the judicator's arm behind her back, while firmly gripping her skull. The pain of the hardwood against her face shot through Kayle's whole body. The sorceress's hips were placed against her backside and she quickly removed her dress.

"You are sorely mistaken if you think you can refuse me, Casséaile," she hissed, grinding the Demacians face further into the table. The Demaicans paralyzed legs were unresponsive to the assault. Kayle was now crying hysterically, not from the pain but from the disgust of feeding her own wings. She was sobbing hard in a repeated manner that made it difficult to stop or breath, she could not give the matron the satisfaction. It just hurt her too much. Everything hurt and she could feel LeBlanc summoning the weapon that hurt her most.

"You are mine, Casséaile, " LeBlanc whispered against her neck. She let out a low moan as she started to thrust inside the Demacian without letting her adjust. She felt the ever so familiar searing pain between her legs and the blood was always proof of that. Now that she always turned back to a virgin, sex would always be incredibly painful to her. Tears ran down the judicators face, hot and wet as she heard the moans of the LeBlanc against her neck.

The thought of her only meal in this hell still lingered in her mind, Kayle gagged, thinking she would vomit again and LeBlanc stilled for a moment.

"Do I disgust you? Is that why you are gagging?"

The sorceress thrust painfully hard in Kayle’s sex, purposely putting the angel through more pain Kayle was disgusted. Disgusted by LeBlanc’s touches, disgusted by the cannibalism, disgusted by the friction, by the way, she had felt when LeBlanc touched her. It was all disgusting. But Kayle said nothing. She let out another sob and fresh tears rolled down her face like a fountain.

"You are disgusted by me when you are the one that ate your own wings," LeBlanc rasped. Her breath tickled Kayle’s neck and a wet kiss followed. "The only disgusting one here is you."

The matron moved her hand from Kayle's head and reached for the last bits of meat on the table. "Stuffing your face like a hungry animal-- Gods, you are even less than an animal," she continued.
LeBlanc sighed pressing the meat to Kayle's lips.

"I am going to have to teach you a lesson for being such a glutton," she chided. She reached for her finger to enter Kayle’s mouth but once the Demaician refused, LeBlanc snapped her fingers, causing the collar the squeeze the angels throat and choking on her collars.

Kayle rolled her eyes back from the lack of oxygen and opened her mouth. The disgusting meat filled her mouth once again. LeBlanc softened her hold for a moment to turn Kayle to face her. The look on her face was an eerie rictus.

"Please," muttered Kayle. "Stop doing this .. Please. Don't punish me."

LeBlanc smirked at her pathetic pleas. Did the fool honestly believe that begging worked? The purple-haired Noxian trailed her finger up Kayle’s breast. She twirled her fingertips over Kayle's nipple, pinching and teasing at them until they hardened. LeBlanc lifted her fingers and pressed them against the judicators lips

Kayle whimpered and suckled on them as well as any wench, first just taking the tip with coy reservation. Then two her knuckles with low throaty whimpers, her tongue flicking back and forth. LeBlanc chuckled and withdrew her fingers.

“Please...stop raping me,” Kayle whimpered like a child, letting more fresh tears roll down her face. This was the judicator and wings of Demacia?

"Rape? Honestly now, rape is making love to a whore," the matron laughed before letting out a low sighed. This resulted in the Demacian shooting LeBlanc a disgusted and angered look.

“I pray the void consumes you!” the angel cried out.

LeBlanc chuckled and leaned down and kissed the angel fiercely on the lips. Kayle began to shake and panted as the Noxian tongue entered her mouth once more. She felt like she wanted to throw up again. Her gums and teeth hurt from it, and the wounds in her mouth stung fiercely.

As the slave's body began to wrack and shake LeBlanc stopped.

"You see, Casséaile, there are much better things to do with your mouth than stuff yourself," she cooed, licking her own lips and pulling out of the angel, leaving a string of blood. The Strap-on vanished in a matter of moments and only shown LeBlanc's wet sex. "There are other things you can eat."

Kayle swallowed. LeBlanc grabbed the roots of her hair and knocked the Demacian to the floor. She tugged on the leash tight and the judicator gasped as her head grew dizzy. She could see the matrons aroused sex.

Kayle looked up at LeBlanc for something, but there was nothing there for her. No compassion or recognition of her humanity, only lust, and a crooked sadistic grin.
With one hand in Kayle's hair and another on the leash, she guided the slave's lips to her womanhood. Her mouth was slick and heated from the kissing and screaming, and it felt like everything below her waist was pounding with nothingness. She looked exhausted.

"Oh you are still hungry aren't you? I knew you couldn't wait to be between my legs,” she chided.

Kayle’s lips clamped tighter and her gold eyes seemed emptier, she pressed her mouth against the wet sex in front of her and let out her tongue. She felt disgusted that she was forced to pleasure this woman, though she did not have much of an option. It didn't take long for her to work it up to the matron's clit, and she assumed this was the quickest way to get her off. Kayle's tongue was now at the entrance to LeBlanc's moist hole and she closed her gold eyes as she forced it to work the older woman over. Not long now, she kept telling herself as she lapped and lapped at the juices. Kayle pushed her tongue into LeBlanc’s womanhood and circled her tongue around inside, all while crying miserably.

"Quite the natural, aren't you?" LeBlanc mused, moving her groin over Kayle's face. Kayle wanted nothing more than to die with all this humiliation. She allowed her tongue to gloss over the Noxians clit and suck on it. LeBlanc let all her muscles tighten and contract a heat rising in her breast and her temples. The sorceress tugged the leash closer to her and Kayle began to grow red in her face, her eyes bulging slightly. The sight of it brought her to climax. Her whole body shook and she moaned loudly. LeBlanc looked to Kayle expectantly eyes had-lidded.

“Swallow.” She ordered, panting slightly from her orgasm.

The hatred and sorrow in Kayle’s eyes shown, nevertheless she swallowed like a good slave, and LeBlanc's head felt fuzzy and heavy. With proper guidance there was hope for her plaything yet.

"You are filthy," she mumbled. It was true. All the food, blood, sweat and dirt had mixed together on the judicator. She smelled awful. Like a stench that spreads. LeBlanc smiled to herself. Kayle had curled in on herself on the floor and had continued her crying. It was a good thing she came down the cellar than take Kayle to her room, the girl was still long ways from her training. Once LeBlanc left she could still hear and echoing cries and screams of the judicator.

In her cell, Kayle lifted herself to faces the wall, her face creased and her fists closed so tight she can feel the sweat trapped inside them. Kayle had always been so self-conscious when she cried but now she just gave way to the enormity of her grief. She sobbed into her hands and the tears dripped between her fingers, raining down onto the parched soil. Her breathing was ragged, gasping and her lifeless legs always remind her of what she lost. The Demaican collapsed to the floor and sobbed. She was noisy, her skin was blotched but there was no-one there to witness it let alone come to comfort her. She could run a mile in any direction and not find another soul that was sane. She cried until no more tears came, but still, the emptiness and sorrow remained. The darkness hugged her like a dear friend. There she laid as a crouched figure remained unmoved. There was nothing left, nobody left, no reason to move.

But why is she thinking of Morgana?

Chapter Text

Kayle laid on the cold floor for a long time, staring at the gloomy ceiling in a numbing state. She raised her wrists and looked at the shackles. They were ugly and there was no taking away what they were going to be used for. She was helpless against the wishes and desires of her owner. LeBlanc uses her magic to retain her in any way she desires, she knew that. They would add to the Noxian torturing her body further. She put her hands down over her abdomen and stared at the ceiling yet again. Over and over the memory and taste of her wings continued to linger in her mouth and what she hated most about it was that she was destined to be humiliated in such a way. Though a week had passed since she was feeding such a thing, it felt like it repeats every day. Every day she is in the company of the sorceress that always reminds her of her failures to protect Demacia. Sadness sits an inch below the white-haired woman's face, her gold eyes remaining dry, expression impassive. She knows that if she even lets a fraction out that the rest will follow, a never-ending torrent of grief. All the Demacian does from sun up to sun down is sit with her forehead against the wall. At times, she was taken out for her cell to train with Pierre or be molested. They took her values, they took her land, then they took her freedom - all to warn the others not to fight back. Being in this prison she now calls home would be the last thing she ever sees. The dark mage that has beaten her on multiple occasions and cut her wings off would be the woman to give Kayle her final feelings and kill the slave girl whenever she wants and that would be the last thing Kayle will ever feel.


After being forced to consume her own wings, LeBlanc had resumed to neglecting the slave, Kayle did not know whether this was a blessing or a curse. She had been laying on the floor for days, naked, had not set well with her. Not that anything about the situation was sitting well with her. Her shoulders ached, and she didn't even want to think about the scars she had all over her body, let alone the scars LeBlanc had left on her soul. The matron had forced herself on her, against her will. She had chained her down, tear her wings off, ripped her clothes off her body, and raped her, this because she was nothing more than a little plaything.

'You may have me as a slave, Emilia LeBlanc,' she thought to herself. 'But you will never really have me.'

The darkness in the cell haunted her every breath, being surrounded by her fear seemed like another mind game from LeBlanc, it was her fault she let herself be vulnerable in that situation and expose her fear to the mage. Everything was her fault. Each wall of concrete was identical to the next without an identifying marker of any kind. Standing in what could be any part of the solitary confinement. Kayle realized her mistake. She had been so certain she was falling in LeBlanc’s trap, that she would be the perfect slave. There was no reason to believe this trauma was seeping deep inside her consciousness. She considered sitting until the dawn, but who knows what would come when she was made blind by the night and her own mental state. Hours passed like centuries for the Demacian laying on the floor, there is nothing in this tiny room but her own heartbeat and rancid breath. At times Kayle hits the walls, just to hear something different, to make a tune. It never hurts her hands, ever since she lost her wings there was immense nerve damage done to her spine, she couldn’t walk anymore, her legs wouldn’t move and she had to crawl on her weak arms to move around the cell. She could not turn over, or even lie on her side. She was stuck to the one place the Noxian had placed her in. 'Mistress's pleasure.' She thought sourly to herself. Bitterly she resigned herself to the restrictions of freedom of movement. And thought to herself it was a good thing until when she heard the sound of keys moving. Kayle knew the gargoyles were here to take her to LeBlanc, they had done this nearly every day and it became a routine, which was why she never objected when they moved her up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

They set the angel gently on the emperor-sized bed and quickly left the room, for creatures half her size they were quite strong. she laid on the bed with an emotionless expression and listened to the soothing silence, one she grew accustomed to. After half an hour passes Kayle looked toward the direction of the entry. LeBlanc came in the room moments later and took off her coat. She wore a black gown made of soft, satiny fabric, long and loose. A semicircular, high collar made of silk-like materials headed the ankle-length robe. She walked as lightly as an acrobat. A puff of the air from outside the room swept through her short dark-purple hair and crown. She turned to switch on her stereo system and pour herself a glass of brandy. "Good Evening, Casséaile," she addressed the slave without gazing her attention to her.

"Good Evening, LeBlanc," she replied quietly and whispered the last word mainly to herself.

The sorceress sipped the brandy as she approached the bed. She lifted her magic staff and held it against Kayle’s lifeless legs, poking at it as if to expect a response. “Still unresponsive?" She asked unpitying her actions, her tone suggesting she cared very little about the judicators current state.

"Unfortunately," the Demacian answered carefully, her voice broke slightly, suggesting she was holding back tears. LeBlanc placed the brandy on the nightstand where she usually places it. She soft fingers run through the angels left leg, though Kayle cannot move her legs she could slightly feel what was being done. LeBlanc looked at her the slave chained on the bed with an irritated look on her face. The Noxian moved down to the end of the bed and released the restraints from her wrist.

"Are you able to crawl on your own or would you like my assistance?"

Kayle moved her wrist relieved from the restraints, rubbing each wrist from the injuries it caused. “I can move on my own, thank you," she said dispassionately. She moved off the bed with little disruptions and took a tentative step with her hands and faltered to find LeBlanc standing in front of her.

"Are you certain?" She asked in a courtly fashion, Kayle nodded stubbornly. In her arrogant triumph, she smirked - just a small pouting of the lips; a narrowing of the eyes and a tilting of the head. It was so subtle, it was even more infuriating for Kayle who caught a glimpse of it after making the foolish mistake. LeBlanc walked to her bed to sit on the soft mattress, legs crossed and fingers intertwined over one knee. She watches the Demacian like she was expecting the slave to put on a show for her, which caused the judicator to blush from the embarrassment of being watched.

“What are you doing?” She heard herself asking suddenly. LeBlanc looked straight at the angel with a disappointed and annoyed expression.

“If you expect to be answered, you must address me properly, Casséaile,” the sorceress replied darkly.

Kayle sighed irritated and gave in to LeBlanc’s demands, "What are you doing, my lady?”

"Good," she replied, ignoring the judicators question entirely, "Are you hungry or did your last meal leave a bad taste in your mouth?"

Kayle looked at her, wanting to cry and fighting the urge as the memories of her last “feeding”. Every word stung only fueling the fire that burned inside of her. Every violated phrase was like gasoline to it, her fists on the floor began to clench and her jaw rooted, but she had to remain calm if she is not to be punished. "No," she answered growling under her breath.

LeBlanc mused, the slave was clearly lying, she had not to feed her in over a week. Well, one would replace the other in time. She could wait. "Good, I did not intend on feeding you anyhow," she announced nonchalantly and laughed moments later.

“Take your clothes off,” she ordered cruelty.

Kayle fist clenched and lifted her back to sit on her paralyzed knees with her face downward. She lifted her rags over her body the best she could until she wiggled the dirty clothes off her body and shivered from the air hitting her fragile figure. This seemed to please the matron better how than looking at her. After LeBlanc removed the terrible feeling within her she regained some semblance of sense back, along with the crushing realization of what was going to come. Blushing furiously from the humiliation she was presented with, she wanted nothing more than to crawl back to the dungeons and starve until LeBlanc no longer find satisfaction in her suffering. Now both sat across from one another in silence. The purple-haired woman simply smiled down at her from the bed she was sitting on as she watched her slave shiver from the cold air.

"Look at me," looking up at her imposing owner, Kayle bit her lip. Doing as she was told, her gold eyes met with LeBlanc’s amber ones, with her arms covering her chest in some manner of decency. Scowling, LeBlanc stood up as well before crossing her arms. "Did I say to cover your breasts?"

Receiving no visible response she sighed. "You are being disobedient, Casséaile. My slaves must listen when they're spoken to. Do you want me to punish you further?" Seeing the angel shutter at her words a small smile graced her lips. Pacing around the white-haired angel, she saw her still covering her chest and crotch. "Very well then, you have had enough rest. I think it is about time you got to work," Kayle looked at LeBlanc confused and fearful before she saw the sorceress reach for a cloth on the side of the nightstand.

As she pulled out a white cloth rag, she tossed it to the slave, who in turn caught it on instinct. As Kayle looked at it confused, the Noxian spoke up. "This room has become quite filthy in your presence, what kind of slave does not clean after themselves?" She taunted, making the Demacian feel more ashamed of her current state.

Stomping her foot, she pointed to the floors first. "Wipe them all down. Every speck of dust, dirt, and grime that has grown since my absence here must be cleaned. Do I make myself clear?" Kayle looked around surprised at what she was being told to do.

"Well? Get to work!" LeBlanc shouted at the slave demand. Nodding timidly, she was about to start on the first in front of her before the Noxina stopped her, "Has Pierre not taught you to always start by the doors or were his words too advance for your Demacian ears to understand? Your kind is pathetic, start by the door."

Blushing in embarrassment and by LeBlanc harsh words she did as she was told, not wanting to anger her any more than she already seemed to be. Using one hand to help her crawl while her other hand was holding the cloth, she began crawling to the door and started to wipe the floor, first starting at the corner of the doors. As the rag grew duller in color it appeared she wasn't even making a dent in the floor. If Kayle had been listening to the matron she would have heard the woman whisper an incarnation as she was crawling towards the door. The sorceress sat and watched the slave desperately trying to wipe away a stain that was not coming in her favor, perhaps it would if she had not cast a spell that turned everything against Kayle, the spell would be to permanently keep the stains on the floor to further humiliate the angel. LeBlanc hummed a song as Kayle was wiping the floor harder and harder, each second growing more scared by her lack of success.

"Just terrible, such a failure you are. Do you not even know how to wipe away your own stain?! Such a useless slave, nothing more than waste!" the mage heckled as she shifted in her seat. "If that rags not dripping wet and black in the next five minutes then your tongue will be used to clean it instead! Am I understood? Am I!"

Kayle nodded furiously, "Y-Y-Yes M-Mistress!" whimpering, the judicator grit her teeth as she used all her strength to clean, but it still did not seem like she was making any progress, in fact, it only seemed as if the floor was becoming darker after each wipe. "Honestly, do you even put an effort in this? I can do better than this in my sleep. The gargoyles do this every day and you cannot even do it to the floor?! I knew Demacians were inferior but you truly exceed inferiority, Jericho was precise to think you were useless, such a fool of me to believe that you could be anything more than a sex slave if this is what I get out of it," the Noxian ridiculed her every move and made the slave feel as inferior than anything in runeterra.

Tears streamed down Kayle's cheeks at such painful words. She had never felt so alone, so lost... So incapable of doing even the smallest tasks. And this was only the beginning, the beginning of the pain, the suffering and the endless congo line of emotions that were in store for her and there was very little she could do about it. "I-I-I am t-trying M-Mistress,” she stuttered as if it each word she spoke was strangling her.

"Then try harder!" LeBlanc shrieked in anger as she crossed her legs. As the rag Kayle was using began to turn black, her expression lightened up. The stains on the floor started to fade to reveal the lighter grey coloring underneath.

"You have had more than enough time now, let me see your progress," Crawling away from her spot, the sorceress took her place as she looked it over. "Pitiful. Such a useless excuse for a slave indeed," Kayle's heart dropped as she watched LeBlanc spit on the floor in disgust. The sadness drained through her rather than skating over her skin. It traveled through every cell to reach the ground. She filtered it yet, strangely enough, the angel tried to keep what was pure and it was the dirt that left.

LeBlanc shook her head and clicked her tongue in disappointment, "Do it again. No rag this time either," Before Kayle could protest, the cloth in her hand was yanked away, the sorceress walked to one of the bookshelves and gradually chose a heavy dark blue leather book and walked back to the bed. She lifted the book enough for the angel to see before she started in a venomous tone, "By the time I am finished reading this book I expect you to be finished with your work,” she said blissfully casually before laying back down the bed and opening the first page to begin reading. Kayle glanced at the book her owner was reading, it read: “Grimoire: A dark petal falls”. The decrepit book was paved in darkened leather back, there was no telling how old it could be - maybe fifty, maybe two hundred. It was withered in its old age and tea stains ran down its pages like a silky black dress LeBlanc wore. The book was thick with pages enough to keep the mage occupied long enough for the judicator to finish cleaning. Before LeBlanc begun to red, she looked over the rag with a smile. 'It really is trying, how cute.' Shaking her head, she tossed the dirtied cloth by the nightstand and begun to the first page. What little to the slave know what a fast reader the sorceress was.

Kayle was scrubbing the floor as hard as she could with her hands, barely any dent could be made, minutes passes and LeBlanc was still reading her book quietly, the pages moved faster than the slave's hands, it felt as the mage was expecting the Demacian to fail. ‘How fast of a reader is this woman?’ Kayle thought as she glanced at the Noxian quietly reading her book and then to the clock in the room, only ten minutes had passed and the matron was already half-way done with her book. The angel shook her head and resumed her attention back to the floor. Thirty minutes had passed and no real progress had been made, she was rubbing her hand against the floor so hard that visible read marking was found on her hand. Once Kayle heard the sound of the book closing she knew she was sure to be punished for her failure. Kayle looked at LeBlanc in fear as she saw the angry expression she wore. "I thought I told you to clean up, what is this?" She flailed her hands on the messy floor. The judicator looked around striking.

"I-I-I am trying, I have cleaned as much as I can, I, I just can't get some of the stains out I'm s-sorry Mistress." Kayle cried sadly. Looking around, LeBlanc had to admit she did much more than she had first thought she would. If anyone saw it they had probably said the same. The place was much cleaner than before. Fires of fury and sadism were smoldering in the narrowed amber eyes as the matron weighed the possibilities of the various and creative means available to her for exacting punishment on the slave.

"You are worthless! You are lucky I even took your sisters advice, you are not even fit to be a person!" LeBlanc scowled before gripping the back of Kayle’s white hair painfully. "Punishment seems needed” Kayle looked at the mage confused, but the angry expression she was being given stopped her from questioning it.

Being dragged to the bed by her hair, shakily, she was bent over LeBlanc's laps. As her hands were grabbed suddenly, she tried to pull away from the sorceress, proving to be a mistake as she was slapped in the rear, hard. Screaming in pain, the matron forced her hands behind her back before twisting one of her fingers painfully.

"Don't you dare move or so help me I will make the pain you felt yesterday day just a fraction of what I will do today. Am I understood?" She snarled at the judicator. Kayle grunted in pain and nodded her head. LeBlanc lifted her hand and slapped her hand on the angel's rear once more, only to grab a handful of it instead.

"Soft and smooth. I would expect nothing less from a whore such as yourself. Such a shame you can not even do the simplest of a task, though. You are nothing more than glorified eye candy for me to play with," she whispered venomously. Pulling her hand away, she raised it high in the air before giving Kayle’s backside another slap. Then another, and another, and so on and so forth. The slap was as loud as a clap and stung her arse. It had been an open-handed smack and it had left a red welt behind. There was a small cut where the ring had caught her.

All the while this was going on, Kayle screamed in pain, with each stinging swat she received. It was the same type of spanks a parent would give a child who did something wrong, it was utterly demeaning and humiliated. Whimpering and in tears, As LeBlanc's slaps grew less and less she rested her forehead against the mattress of the bed she hoping it was over. "Nice and red. At least now I have something to look at while you work. Do it again. I want to see this place spotless do you understand me this time?! Or do I need to dumb it down further!"

Pushing the angel of her lap LeBlanc leaned back and crossed her arms once again. "Stop laying on the floor like a pathetic waste," Cowering from the older woman, Kayle shivered in fear and shame as she was looked down upon by the matron.

“I… I tried so hard… and I was still punished…” Kayle sniffled and rubbed her tears away. 'I-I'll just try harder… I have to…' LeBlanc watched Kayle's expression as she worked. Every once and awhile she would berate the girl for her terrible job amongst other insults but in the hours that followed, she did see improvement. Not in her work, though, in her attitude to what she was doing.
"Still worthless it seems, just completely and utterly pathetic. What a useless excuse for a slave. I think I will just call you an insect instead. A slave is too good of a name for you." Kayle nodded quietly as she looked at the dirty floor she had been cleaning for what felt like hours. "I-I'm sorry I'm so worthless… I will do better I promise…" She choked out before going back to the floor as she used her hands and tongue to clean it.

'Perfect.' The sorceress smile turned vicious upon hearing her slave's words of self-hate. ‘Perhaps now it is necessary to see how far you will show your self-hatred…’ Chuckling quietly, she watched the judicator continuing to work. She slowly walked over the slave and traced her finger over the wounds where her wings once were. LeBlanc trailed her fingers along the fresh marks she had made with her hand only moments before and felt a shudder run through Kayle's body. They came away sticky with blood. She placed them in her mouth out of habit and the creature lying below her clenched her jaw and averted her gaze in disgust, unable to hide it. Kayle was such an ungrateful slave. When was the last time the slave had given her a kind word? Gone out of her way to please her mistress? LeBlanc found it difficult to remember such a thing. She was not even sure that had ever happened. Instead, her slave had to be beaten into submission again and again. The anger of the thought filled the sorceress suddenly and violently but she kept her voice velvet soft so as to not betray her emotions.

“You don’t love me do you, Casséaile? I cannot remember the last time you told me such a thing. Do you even recall yourself?”

Kayle flinched as she stopped her cleaning. She focused on steadying her own voice, ”No, I-I do not, my lady.”

Kayle's chest filled with a hollow and familiar ache as she spun her lie. It was her pride that could not handle the abuse. There was no shame in the pain; the crying. Pain at least took strength to bear and was something to be proud of. Even when the pain LeBlanc inflicted on her was a constant burning, tearing, agony that prevented even sleep and left her begging for a limb to be removed just to end it, the judicator had still been able to raise her head in defiance afterward; to struggle against it. She had channeled it into rage through the blur of her own tears. It was only recently that Kayle could feel the strength slowly slipping away. Already she was saying anything the sorceress wanted to hear in an attempt to make the torture less occurring. It would not be long before she simply broke and passively took her punishments without so much as a whimper. Kayle shuddered at the thought.

LeBlanc was unsatisfied with the slave's answer. In fact, it angered her. She was not just mindlessly violent as her lover had perceived, living only for the graveled screams of her slave as her tears left streaks in the coat of filth. She did enjoy that as well, but what she truly wanted was to break the miserable creature's mind. She wanted to completely destroy every semblance of what was once Kayle of Demacia. Anyone could cause pain, but to make the victim enjoy the torment- ask for it even... The thought alone was enough to send her reeling. She would find a way to corrupt her Casséaile in such a way. The mage’s eyes wandered throughout the room until her amber eyes caught onto the blade she left on the nightstand, the same blade she used to tear the Demacian’s wings off. Smiling sinisterly to herself, the blade moved on its own with the influence of her magic until it reached her hands. Kayle opened her eyes to the same dagger that begun the hell she lived in. So much pain that her throat burnt and her eyeballs were quite dry. Yet she could nothing for it. LeBlanc raised her hands and ran her fingers through her white locks, "Casséaile." She recalled how she had tortured her, raped her, cut her, let her bleed out slowly. A wry smile appeared on her lips and she downed it in one. It was her pain and the pain of her loved ones condensed in this blade. The Noxian brushed her fingers against the blade and convulsed for longer than she remembered even being alive for. When finally Kayle broke her gaze away from the dagger everything was just the same as before, the intensifying thirst blistering her throat and the woman who caused her pain. Hell. This was hell.

“Will you do anything to make this stop?” the Noxian inquired, smirking in a deceptive manner at the white-haired angel. Kayle first looked at her confusingly then nodded slowly.

“Good, there will be no objection then,” LeBlanc knelt and placed the blade carefully into Kayle’s hand, a grin that did not quite reach her eyes tugging at the corners of her mouth. She had thought of a new game to play with her slave. The angel swallowed nervously and looked down at the blade confusingly, closing her gold eyes as her pulse quickened in her ears. It must be some kind of trick. LeBlanc waiting to see if the slave will turn the blade on her. “My lady, what should I...?”

LeBlanc leaned closer to her beloved toy and calmly, deliberately, she answered her, “You will hurt yourself~”
Kayle's eyes went wide, and she began to shake violently, comprehension dawning on her. LeBlanc tilted her chin to meet her eyes in an unnaturally gentle gesture that made the Demacian’s skin crawl.

“A place of your choosing, to show me what a desperate little cannibal you are. It can be a single finger if you wish, but no less. And if you fail, then I will do it for you.”

The judicator felt bile rise in her throat, and LeBlanc gazed at her pet with such intense interest that she could physically feel the eyes on her skin. Her voice was barely a trembling whisper when she spoke. “I can't... I'm so sorry mistress... I-I... anything else... p-please...”

“You will do it yourself or I will remove one of your eyes, or maybe both if I see fit,” the matron growled. Her patience was already running low and the girl's refusal grated on her nerves further.

Kayle dug her fingers into the floor so hard that her nails began to tear from their bed. She opened her mouth to scream but all that came was a silent gaping as she struggled for air. Her vision went white around the edges when she imaged the pain she would felt in her now missing wings covering both her eyes.

“I have to do it. She will take my eyes if I don't. I have to do this!...”

Slowly the Demacian brought the blade to the middle finger on her left hand and placed it to the tip. She lost all sense of herself to the adrenaline and fear. Even LeBlanc blurred to nothing in the background as Kayle’s blood pounded in her ears.

“Soon it will be over. It is just one finger not my eyes. Just one…”

Kayle shuddered and moaned quietly as the cold metal slid beneath her skin.

“How pathetic I am, I am nothing, I am dirt, I am less than anything.”  The angel's world spun as she worked. It took her more force than she thought it would, and she gagged in revulsion to the pain.

Now she is in control. She has her own mind...

Kayle tried to move the blade smoothly along the length of her finger as she had felt LeBlanc do to her many times over, but the skin caught. Her dagger hand stilled in horror and she saw the sorceress begin to rise from where she was sitting on the bed.

“No! No, I will do it! Please, I…” Kayle desperately hacked at the finger, hysterically trying to remove the skin from the sinew beneath it, but her body was beginning to shut down and she did not have the strength to do so.

“No! Please let me do it!” she cried out in anguish, hearing her own words of self-harming and how unfamiliar it all sounded to her. She was begging to harm herself, what kind of creature is she? She cut the blade deeper into her skin and peeled off the soft flesh that was pulling back and oozing blood that dripped down to her elbow.

Suddenly an iron grip stayed both of Kayle's hands and the blade fell to the wooden floor. LeBlanc pressed her tightly to her breast in a vice-like grip. The slave was far beyond shaking and sat stark frozen as she retched onto the ground in front of them. The purple-haired Noxian rocked the slave back and forth gently, stroking her pet's hair, and cooed softly in her ear.

“Poor Casséaile, you tried so hard, didn't you? Shh, it's all right. Since I am a kind and merciful mistress I will reward you for your efforts,” LeBlanc stopped rocking then, pressing her lips against Kayle's ear she paused and then whispered, “You were hurting yourself and I stopped you... wasn't that kind of me?” LeBlanc's tone was as dangerous as her eyes, but the warning was wasted on the Demacian. She whimpered, turning her head into the hollow between her owner's neck and shoulder. That was kindness? The deceivers word rock back and forth in her mind, leaving it moving in foreign ways, ways she has become unaccustomed to these many weeks in slavery. LeBlanc is an echo, but one with the power to tear down walls she has built high and deep. The mind inside Emilia LeBlanc was such a mystery it scared the slave. This despair is a heady blackness; it felt to burden her with these emotions Kayle had thought possible it would have vanished to black, not blocked, but like happiness, this was a myth to her. She let her head rest on LeBlanc’s breast, she knew the sorceress enjoyed mind games with her, though one day she will look past the deception and play the cards herself, but not today.

“Thank you, my lady. I am truly sorry, I should not have misbehaved. You were right to punish me. Thank you... Thank you... Thank y-” Kayle's words caught in her throat as she swallowed a sob, and from her head, in her owner's breast, she could not see the smile that flickered across LeBlanc’s face.
“Now now, Casséaile you cannot let your filthy tears stain my dress, it would be bothersome to have to punish you further,” the sorceress chuckled with fake sympathy, gently pulling the angel away from her, “Though now is not the time, go to the kitchen and one of the gargoyles will be with you shortly. Put your clothes on and go to them”

Kayle removed herself from LeBlanc’s embrace and nodded numbly.

It caught Kayle off guard when LeBlanc let her crawl to the kitchen by herself, it seemed like LeBlanc was toying with her further though she could not grasp just what it was. She did know where the kitchen was due to her training with Pierre, he had to show her the manor so she could better perform her task, though she had not been the kitchen that often due to her owners neglect to feed her. She sighed miserably to herself and crawled down the hall as quickly as she could. The dark hallways did always bother and felt as if any moment it would consume her and she would forever be lost, though fear was something she did fail at hiding, LeBlanc knew she was scared of the dark and purposely left her in the dungeons for days surrounded by it.

The judicator rose her head to see Jericho Swain mindedly walking down the hallway without noticing the slave in his usual Noxian uniform. Pierre had informed her to always bow when she saw Swain or LeBlanc, gradually she bowed her head submissively to the grand general. Swain passed by her without so much a glance, when Kayle continued to crawl further down the hall, the grand general stopped in her tracks:

“Slave,” he called to the girl in a low tone, who was only a few feet from him.

Kayle stopped in her tracks and keep her head down, trembling in his presence.

“Yes, my l-lord?”

“Who were you before you became this?” Swain asked coldly, his red eyes staring judgmentally at the crippled slave like she were inferior to him. Kayle first expressed confusion though she dared not to face him. She first considered saying angel though her losing her wings did not change her species.

“A judicator, my lord,” she replied with a strained voice.

“I see,” he drawled lowly with a hint of scoffing, “you must miss being higher than everyone else, but seems now you have only suffered because of it.”

Kayle’s mind was still a surging perplexity. The way Swain said it made her think that she had to think about ten things at one time. Though deep inside she did understand what she said and refused to think how it negatively impacted her. She knew he stood pridefully before her and he knew he was superior. Arrogance was her worst vice and the thing that kept her coming back. In this big wide world of confusion that general knew where Kayle was heading.

Swain eyes and stare wasn't absolutely cold, his face somehow lacked the mobility others had. His eyes would rest on a point, even a person, and he'd stay like longer than the average person would. Others would alter their paths not to cross his and stand further back than was customary. He tsked to himself and turned to walk away from the slave, before Kayle would move from her spot he said the last thing to her in his usual cold tone, “If you intend of finding judgment here, remember that yours has already been passed.”

Kayle took account into his words and waited until she was far from her view. She continued to crawl towards the kitchen until she reached it. The kitchen has dark brown cabinets with two double doors. These cabinets are filled with dishes, cups, and bowls on one side and spices along with a box of assorted celestial seasons tea and two boxes of assorted individual packs of spices and other goods on the other. The entire kitchen had a dark marble construction to it that fit the gothic feel to the rest of the manor. To the right, below the cabinet doors is the sink, all the dishes were spotless and almost cast a reflection. The sink is surrounded by a stove to the left and a dish rack to the right. The kitchen itself is actually apart of one big room which runs right into the other rooms.

“Ah good, you are here,” a female gargoyle said mechanically mainly focusing her attention onto the meal she was cooking rather than the Demacian. “Take the tray to your right and bring it to the living room, I placed it on the floor better suited with your disability.”

Kayle nodded and turned to the right to see a tray of red wine in an ice bucket and two glass cups. The bottle was the gold-colored Moselle, very soft and rich and beautiful. She held the tray steadily with her left hand as she used her right hand to crawl towards the living room. She winced in pain still from the self-harming earlier though the bleeding had long stopped.

Once she reached the living room her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lights in the room she realized there was a small fire burning on one side of the wall, surrounded by two huge, brown couch. Kayle looked to my left and found a large dining table, with several chairs around it, a small closet with lots of dishes and glasses behind it, which the servants were cleaning and several mirrors on the sides of the sort-of-separate room. Near the middle of the living room, she saw three large, black sofas with a rather low table in front of them, with nothing but a large vase with three beautiful black roses sticking out, in front of the sofas, her eyes fell on the large couch to her right. It wasn't very comfortable and it made her skin itch, but it looked very grand with the large black desk in front of it, with a desk in front of it and a scroll case. Kayle looked over her shoulder and spotted several photo frames all over the wall, painting of Noxian landscape, along with several weapons hung up, in the middle, there was an empty space, seemingly appears one more artifact will be hung for all to see…

On her other side, she spotted endless shelves of shelves, coating the walls, filled with books. Many of these books were obviously spell books or history. Several lit candles were hung on the sides and their plates were covered with dried wax. The candles were all lit, and looking upwards the angel saw several glass chandeliers with candles on their plates. These two were lit, but no matter how many candles they hung up it would never be enough to light up all the whole room. Near the desk, she saw several more large candles. Kayle looked ahead of the floor and saw a Shuriman style carpet covering the polished wooden floor, yet somehow no matter how modest the living room was it gave Kayle the uncomfortable feeling of something haunting.

Kayle shook her head and moved her eyes towards the fireplace. It was like a tiny sun for the evening, casting long shadows over the rug. The flames curl and sway, flicking this way and that, crackling as they burn the dry wood. The angel noticed the small table in between the chairs and crawled to set the tray on it. Once she set the table down, she felt the heat of the fire snake up her body, it felt almost comforting. Kayle had not noticed in one of the seats, there was a figure sitting with her legs crossed. She sat in the chair wearing a black dress, peppering her body with soft, sensual kisses. Like a lover, it seduced the senses and conveyed with utmost skill the art of beauty. Though her beauty had a dark look that never looked so beautiful on a woman. With black short hair with a hint of purple and pale skin she quietly watched the slave set the tray to the table without Kayle noticing her presence. It was not until the sound of the movement of her chained wings, it startled the slave and caused her head to face the woman.

Once Kayle’s gold eyes met the women's purple ones, she stopped in her tracks and stared in pure shock. Her gold eyes were locked onto the woman, her heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, her irises too stationary. It was as if her brain was suffering some kind of shock that froze her in her place and was struggling to compete with what her eyes were showing her. She felt every muscle in her body froze, every thought in her mind stop as she stared at what she believed were her eyes deceiving her. Kayle sat in place and in shock, her mind crashing down to her heart and her heartbeats pounding against her chest, her breaths shallow until she could mutter the first words:


Chapter Text



The warmth from Kayle's body abandoned her as quickly as she felt all sense of reality drift away from her thoughts. Morgana's face comes from the shadows, her features suspended with an unemotional state. Seconds pass, the judicators brain taking her in, struggling to comprehend that her sister is not an illusion or some kind of hallucination, that she is real. Kayle’s mind can't formulate a thought, at least not one based in any language, and if she does not speak a word her mind would tear. How the ground between them is erased she will never recall, but one moment they are apart and the next Morgana reaches her hand out to caress her twin. The warmth of Morgana’s body meets Kayle’s cold skin. With each soft touch more tears fall, tears the dark angel had never seen her twin shed, she had not even considered that Kayle ever felt such emotions. She reached her hand out as if she was reaching for her sister, then Kayle sobbed harder- not because it hurt, but because there was a chance all this was not real.


Morgana was examining each bruise, cut, bite, and scars covering her body. The scars had been more visible than any cut or bruise. The dark angel would find her hand going there automatically when she first saw them. She would run her finger over its ridges and around its jagged edges. Morgana would not have thought scars could be carried in their immortal beings. Kayle would carry it with her forever, after all, it could also be said with the emotional pain Kayle had caused her twin.


“Kayle,” she has begun profoundly, “When they said you were captured I did not believe it, Kayle: the judicator of Demacia, I said, She is dead, she has always been dead.


When Kayle turned her gaze from her twin Morgana can see she is one more blow away from breaking. It's intervention time. She knows where Kayle is heading and no matter where it is she will head nowhere good. The judicator eyes exposed to shame and sorrow in her eyes, even before her own twin she refuses to call for help, refuses to admit she is in the wrong.


“Look at me,” Morgana demanded virulently, Kayle remained silent and her eyes still looked towards the floor instead of her twin. Morgana lost her patience and grabbed her sister by the chin and forced Kayle to look at her. “Look at me!” She demanded more fiercely. Nausea swirled unrestrained in Kayle’s empty stomach. Her head swam with half-formed regrets. Her heart felt as if her blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. Kayle’s melancholy mood hung over her like a black cloud, raining her personal sorrow down on her in the presences of her dark twin. Even the divine light was drab to her now and the birdsong like so much noise on a child's glockenspiel, grating her nerves.


“I tried to reach for you, I tried to help you and you betrayed me,” the dark angel begun in a determined but hurt tone.


“Have you forgotten our...” Kayle replied trying to justify her actions but was quickly interrupted by her twin.


“You were my sister,” she harshly interrupted Kayle, “you were an arrogant cunt but you were still my sister, I risked everything for you and you abandoned our family, you abandoned me.”


Kayle shook her and looked infuriated by her sister's words, “As if you could possibly understand sister, I….” Before she could finish was interrupted yet again by Morgana.


“Stop justifying your actions, when father died you told me he was another casualty and all was just,” she affirmed bitterly, “now tell me, dear sister, is this fate justice?” she asked emphasizing on the word ‘sister’ as it rolled off her tongue.


“You know our duty came first!" Kayle shouted in raw anger and hurt, her voice echoing through the living room. A few more tears broke from her eyes and came down at a faster rate. “You let her hurt me, how could you?!”


“I’m aware you suffer greatly, Kayle. Could you know now how you hurt me then? How you broke my heart?”


The judicator clenched her teeth in anger and felt the anger rising in her, she was breathing in and out very slowly to control her emotions, “No, you should acknowledge what I did had to be done! I suffered from the day I was enslaved, she tore my wings off and I fell into an endless abyss of torment, you knew I was suffering and all you have done was add to it!”


Morgana watched the hurt and anger in her twin, she merely scoffed, “I was under the impression the divine was as pure and righteous than the fragile sinners you have smitted, you are now condemned by them,”


“To whom you speak of this to? I followed the path that was given and here you let me endure this agony, sister,” Kayle voice broke with each word, her throat clamped together to avoid another sob.


“Oh spare me, Kayle,” Morgana ridiculed, “The falling stars you wished upon are cinders now and have ignored your prayers. Their residue festoons your lies, revealing husks of your hypocrisy, Their shells are all that last I have taken everything they have concealed and they have nothing to offer.”


The slave looked at her sister bitterly, “My fate was sealed when I was bought--now I crawl towards my own demise. Say what you like about my current state but even you would agree this is unjust,” the judicator whispered in dread, though mostly to herself.


Morgana rested her head on her hand, she was in no place to drag her sister down further to despair, but the truth needed to be said than pretty lies Kayle spoke of. Kayle would find this harsh truth from either her or LeBlanc.


“Whoever told you life was fair?" She asked coldly, “Remove yourself from you blinded gaze and bestow the cruelty of nature that is displayed. Why the scorn? Why the surprise? Everything that is born is born ignorant and it is not I who made the world that way.”


She felt emotionally falling and crashing to hell. The was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that enveloped her mind in swirling blackness. In her typical stubborn Demacian pride she had to insist she was right.

“If you had freed me from my bounds then we could have changed that, your sword was with me and you left me to carry out that duty so you can roam the soil with humans, you even chained your wings when mine has been torn from my back, do you mock me, sister?!” She shouted. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. Kayle could feel the muscles of her chin tremble like a small child and she looks toward the fire as if the light could soothe her. There is static in her head once more, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress Kayle lived with. The judicator hears her own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of Kayle that Morgana didn't know she had left to give. That's the way it is when people are hard. It's like theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see.


“Mock you?" The dark angel huffed, "Contracting to your actions I better understood their characteristic instead of judging them when I am insensible to their nature, you murdered humans in cold blood and called yourself virtuous, but appears now you understand mortals. What wicked little twist of fate placed you here? Where are you now? Where was the divine to steer you through? Perhaps the divine has forsaken you? Otherwise, why are you here?”


The desolation Kayle felt was all consuming. Her mind became an icy wasteland, the wind howled in her soul and wrapped icy thorn vines around her heart so tightly it almost stopped beating.

“I...I did what was best for..”.


“That does not matter now, stop crying!” Morgana yelled, her aggressive tone took Kayle by surprise and she flinched as if she was expecting to be beaten. Morgana took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, this situation felt difficult to her, she did not believe in this fate for her twin but it did serve as poetic justice for Kayle’s cold murders and the death of their father.


“I will never heal from this, sister, you should know that!” There was something in that shout, a pain behind it. Morgana watched. She watched Kayle's eyes. Then she knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing arrows, scared for their life, lonely, desperate. Kayle breathed in real slow. What if none of this happened? What if their mother's sword never came to them? Wouldn't Kayle have to calm down? Wouldn't the shield clatter to the ground and let the pain tumble out?

Morgana put her hand softly on the shoulder of her sister as a token of her sympathy, and then stole quietly out through the fire into the light and heat it cast on the two angels. She thought she would leave her sister alone in the first burst of her grief. But Morgana was not heartless, she was better than that.


Morgana softly ran her finger through her sister's hair. Still sitting, she pulled her sister into a gentle hug, letting Kayle's head rest on her lap and cry. The hug was a simple enough gesture - affection, perhaps the fragile beginnings of love. The arms that held her were soft, yet strong. The feel of her body so close to her someone that would not hurt her, she soothed the wingless angel more than she had expected. She whispered soothingly in her ear, not out of mockery but pity, “You need not heal, Kayle, these are your scars. Others would have emotional scars, not you, you are still bleeding because your heart is so strong. Essentially, you just need a new bond and you will be fine, you will be as good as new, still independent and strong. Love is as the blood in our veins, it needs to flow. Kayle, I still love you.”


Kayle listened and sobbed into her lap unceasingly, hands clutching at her dress and robe. Morgana held her in silence, rocking her slowly as her tears soaked her lap. A tiny lapse let Kayle pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before she collapsed again, her howls of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths, before hurling Kayle back into the outstretched arms of her grief.


“I know you do,” Kayle sobbed harder, feeling ashamed of this grief that spilled over her and never gave her a break or a chance to express anything else, this was raw grief and weakness she displayed in front of her dark twin.


“Your sword…” Morgana began in tranquility, letting Kayle calm down, “Is with me, after you were captured they returned both of our swords to me, I need no blade though yours is still with me,” Morgana’s words did not make her situation less painful but the revelation on the whereabouts of their mothers swords did bring about some relief in the wingless angel. It did stop some emotional pain in Kayle, though when the thought crossed her of Morgana’s presence she turned behind her to see if anyone was coming, then she turned back to her sister.


“Sister...why are you here?” Kayle heard herself asking slowly.


Morgana looked away from her twin and looked towards the burning ember instead, listening to the crackling fire and the slow breathing of the fire. She sighed heavily and answered carefully, “There is a meeting in one of the rooms and I grew weary of the discussion. I decided to sit here for a few minutes before I head back.”


The wingless angel tilted her head and her face relaxed to form a bemused expression, “Meeting? What meeting?”


“She never mentioned it to you?” Morgana inquired, raising an eyebrow.


“Mention what?” Kayle asked, looking at her twin in confusion.


Morgana paused and bit her lip, she was feeling conflicted whether she should tell her twin or not, running her hand through her dark hair and her wings moving against the chains, she exhaled and turned to meet Kayle’s eyes, “I joined The Black Rose some months ago, there was a meeting taking place for some hours with LeBlanc and the other members.”


Kayle looked be wilted by the answer, her eyes widening as each second passed until she looks away and holds back another sob. She paused and sighed. “No… you could not have.” she cast her gaze onto the wooden floor and her eyes darkened. She glanced back up at Morgana. “Why?” Her voice sounded more pain than anything.


Before Morgana could answer one of the gargoyles walked in the room and caught the attention of both the women.
“Come on, Casséaile,” one of the gargoyles said, almost worrisome. “Lady LeBlanc wants you,” he turned to the other women next,“ Oh, Ms. Morgana, mistress had asked of you to please return to the meeting, something important will occur and you must be there.”


Terror clawed at her throat and it became difficult to breathe. What did she want now? The gargoyle dragged her the leash and shoved her roughly through the door, following close behind. Losing sight of her twin, she was dragged back down to the dungeons. At first, she believed she was being out back in her cell until they passed it, walking further down the dungeons until they reached a single door. Opening it quickly, the gargoyle threw her in and shut the door behind him moments after.
The dark room was like a place out of time, a place to rest without consequence. The darkness in that way was a sanctuary, a place to recharge and forget the things the world said had to be done. It wasn't that Kayle couldn't or wouldn't, but rather that she needed that sense of stepping out of the craziness for a while. So, in the darkness that stole even her own form, she saw the large purple curtains in the room with a symbol of a  black rose on all of them. The room had a total of a hundred men and women dressed in black robes and seating in stone benches that overlapped each other to have a better view, it had an arena feel to it.


There are invisible jail bars here. These bars hold and torture her, while the gargoyle blocks the door. To leave is to invite of a bleak winter of torture to come. Morgana walked in from another entrance and sat in the far corner with a black hooded robe, carefully watching her sister in the middle of the room.


Kayle was brought to the middle where LeBlanc stood and was discussing something about influencing the land in Ionia but Kayle did not pay too much attention to that. She was talking of bloodshed with her eyes skimmed over each member, her lips twisted up into a hideous grin. When she noticed Kayle’s arrival, her grin spread to her teeth and she absently stopped her speech and turned to her slave.
“Casséaile, so good of you to join us. I have a little chore for you if you’d be so kind.”


She spoke as though there was a choice in the matter, but Kayle knew better. Obey, or pain will follow which each disobedience. However, obeying was the only way to avoid torture. LeBlanc had stopped her from flaying her own finger hours ago or what was that her clone? If LeBlanc had been here for hours as Morgana said then it must have been her clone that was with Kayle in their bedroom.

“Since the mist of the Shadow Isles have successfully entered Ionia it had shifted the occupation in favor of Noxus, it has been met with some retaliation of I believe some blade dancer or what not. Either way that does not matter, what matters is keeping the mist in Ionia.”

Kayle wasn’t sure if she understood what LeBlanc was speaking of, so she stayed silent. She knew with the attention turned to her this would end unpleasantly for her.

“Did you hear me, Casséaile?” LeBlanc grinned with that sick smile that didn’t quite reach her amber eyes. “And we cannot have these distractions keep the mist from spreading. There is a spell to ensure this retaliation will be in vain and your assistance is needed,” The sorceress snapped her finger and pointed down which was an order for the slave to come closer, but Kayle’s empty belly twisted and she gulped. Whatever the assistance was would not be too gruesome, would it?

Moments after Kayle had knelt beside her owner, a group of black rose members emerged from their seats and made their way down, they came bellowing into the room, quietly waiting. Kayle kept her head down, trying to be inconspicuous. She thought they kept saying something about a “defamation,” but she must have heard wrong because it made little sense. She did not dwell on the thought, though, as there were far more pressing and horrible things that required her attention. The Judicator was getting nervous about what amusement her owner had planned for him. The matron loved to humiliate her slave, and she seemed to be constantly thinking up new and creative games to humble her pet. Kayle startled when she felt LeBlanc’s soft hand on her head, stroking her hair gently, and she tried not to cringe. A moment later, chains appeared from nowhere and chained the angel down to the floor.


“The spell does require some labor from you,Casséaile,” she explained gently patting the Demacian like she was a dog. “It is something you have done many times, I need blood from a virgin and you always turn back pure, so this will be no issue.”

There was a moment of silence in which no one spoke. The men looked to one another, and finally, a man whom Kayle didn't see scoffed. “But, my lady... she a slave– surely you jest. Would her blood not be filthy from her status?”

LeBlanc chuckled softly. “Oh, she is pure, I assure you of that.”


She turned back to her slave and smiled softly at her horrified and angered expression.

“This ought to teach you a bit of humility, Casséaile.”


“Kayle!” the angel spat. “I see not what you have left to humiliate me before your black rose members but I assure they will be disappointed.”

A dangerous look crossed LeBlanc’s face for just a moment before her soft lips spread into a sinister grin. She may be the Matron of the Black Rose, but nothing will ever come good from her. Kayle stared up at the woman, hatred blazing in her eyes. She was chained low to the ground by the neck and wrists to a chained collar. All around the underground room, members of the Black Rose leered at her half-naked and abused the body. Her face was scarred with various cuts. The skin on her chest and back was covered in welts, bruises, bite, and lash marks, but the judicator refused to cower before the sorceress. Though she was embarrassed to be exposed to many Noxians in this situation.

LeBlanc shook her head, chuckling. “No. No, you are my Casséaile, why does this escape your mind?” She let out an exaggerated sigh. The Noxian reached down and ran her fingers through her slave's untidy white hair, and Kayle jerked her head away as far as the chains would allow.

“Well, now … it seems my Casséaile is displeased with her Lady.” She did not take her amber eyes from Kayle’s face, though her voice carried across the large room for all the members to hear. “Perhaps she would prefer the touch of another. You will find I am not a selfish woman, Casséaile. I am more than willing to share you for a time…”

When those words hit her Kayle swallowed hard, cold understanding slowly settling over her like ice. She looked to the men that surrounded her, her gold eyes darting from face to face. A few were plainly disgusted and averted their eyes with distaste. However, a disturbingly large number of Black Rose members were licking their lips and sizing the Demacian up with eager, hungry eyes. No! Terror gripped her, and she felt as though water were rushing into her ears. Anything but that. The angel placed her head on the ground, trembling, with every intention of following her mistress’s order. Instead, she faltered, clutching desperately at the rags draping her thin frame and drawing in her shoulders. Even though she knew it was useless, she begged.

“Please, mistress, oh please, please, no. Please, don’t make me…” Kayle couldn’t take the rags off. She couldn’t stand naked before all these Noxian with their leering eyes. She couldn’t.

“Now, Casséaile,” LeBlanc tsked. “I thought we were passed all this unseemly groveling. Do you really need further reminders to obey and serve me without question? Would you like me to take a few more fingers to remind you? I have been thinking of evening you out since you lost your wings, you know,” she smirked.

The threat hung heavy in the air, and it was enough. Hundreds of eyes watching this play out, some calmly, other excitedly, then there was Morgana watching in disgust of seeing her twin humiliated in such a way. Yet she did not show pity for her sister, what little does she know. Morgana turned her attention away from the scene, not wanting to view such a thing.

“No, my lady,” Kayle answered quickly and forced herself to begin removing her clothing. LeBlanc has slightly undone some chains to make it easy on the slave.

The judicator shut her eyes as she peeled the rags off one by one, making occasional heaving sounds of anguish in her dread and humiliation. When she was finally naked, she sat shivering, her hands covering her breast. Kayle’s first instinct was to bolt like a deer, but that was folly. She wouldn’t make it five steps before she was caught, and LeBlanc would punish her. Then she really would take another finger, or more skin, or perhaps even an ear or an eye.

“Hands by your side, Casséaile, let them see,” LeBlanc ordered.

It took all the strength of will she had to push her hands down to her sides where she balled them into tight fists. Kayle kept her eyes squeezed shut and shivered in the cool air. She had always thought it was cold in the dungeons, but that had been nothing compared to the frigid chill she was feeling now. The judicator flinched when she heard the gasps and snickers from the Noxians in the room. She knew that they were all gaping at the jagged, angry looking pink scar that was the only thing left on her back. The wound had healed over some time ago, but somehow it still constantly ached with phantom pains. Kayle could feel her face warm with her shame.

“You see?” LeBlanc guffawed. “My Casséaile is as pure as light. And, oh, I promise you all that she can be just as good as any woman, that I assure!”

Kayle heard someone place something that sounded like a glass or bottle on a table. She opened her eyes in curiosity, and immediately regretted it when she saw the faces of the men in black robes sizing her up.

LeBlanc stepped back a few paces from the slave and Kayle watched her nod her head. At first, the angel tensed when she heard footsteps approaching, but she forced herself to take several deep breaths and relax, knowing that it would make it less painful. She crossed her arms and thought of something else, waiting for the first man to take hold of her paralyzed hips. LeBlanc turned to her associates as she walked what looked like a throne-like chair nearby, “Sodomy is forbidden, otherwise she’s all yours.”

There was a moment of hesitation, and then two men quickly approached. Kayle tugged uselessly at the chains, her eyes shooting around wildly.

“Monster!” She screamed in LeBlanc’s direction. “You coward! You cursed a little witch! You will pay for this!” Her voice broke, as she realized the inevitability of what was about to occur. The angel tried to subdue the panic bubbling up inside her, though the thought of being raped by multiple men bring about a horrifying impression in her.

One of the men grasped her roughly by the hair and pushed her face down into the floor. The other man made quick work of unlacing his own robe and britches and then grabbed Kayle by the hips.

“You disgust me, Demacian,” he growled. “But I have never taken such a divine little thing and you are rather a beautiful sight…”

The man used his thumbs to pry Kayle’s legs open, and pushed into her in one thrust. Kayle let out a ragged scream, but the man continued to take her, pounding mercilessly fast and hard. During her enslavement, she was certainly no stranger to sexual conquests, though she had certainly never been taken by a man before. This was no love-making. This wasn’t even fucking. This was something else. This was pain and violation and humiliation like it had always been for her, this type of sexual intercourse was the only one she was ever familiar with.


Kayle felt as though she were being split in two. Her womanhood, and before long she could feel a seeping, wet sensation that could only be her own blood. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the man fucking her grunted out and released his seed into her. When he pulled out, Kayle gritted her teeth and hissed in pain. Tears stung her eyes, but she could see that more men had approached.

“N-no! Please!” she cried in pain, but the men drew in around her, many already unlacing themselves in preparation. The second man to take her was as rough and callous as the first, slamming hard against Kayle’s backside. Her sex was already slick from the blood and seed of the first rape, and the man groaned in pleasure. The judicator yelped pitifully at every thrust, biting her lips until she could taste blood. While this was happening, hundreds of Black Rose members were watching the gang rape of a Demacian with glee and lustfilled eyes. The man who had been pressing her face into the floor yanked Kayle up by her hair. He pulled out his dripping hardness and held it in front of Kayle’s face. She stubbornly grits her teeth and turned her head to the side.

“Now, Casséaile,” LeBlanc called in a theatrical flourish from where she was sitting, “That was a rude thing to do. Let him use your pretty little Demaican mouth. If any of the men feel your teeth, I have no objection to pulling them all out of your head one by one.”


It was not an idle threat, Kayle knew. Reluctantly, she opened her lips ever so slightly. The man did not hesitate. Holding her by her hair, he thrust himself deep into her throat. Kayle choked, tears now streaming down her face. She hardly noticed that the assault on her sex had stopped for a moment, but she let out a guttural moan when a third man thrust slowly into her from behind. The sound pushed the man in her mouth over the edge and she spent down the back of Kayle’s throat. She gagged and spat, panting and whimpering miserably while the pounding onslaught continued at her womanhood. Once the men were completely sated and finished with her, Kayle slid down to the floor. She felt sore, and there were copious amounts of sticky seed and blood dripping down her thighs. She didn’t look up as the men seated themselves around her, nor when other members threw insulting comments at her. Her stomach did ache from the pain. Just as yet another man was entering her, Kayle turned her head, trying to alleviate the crick in her neck and saw that Morgana was watching her. Though she turned her head away she was still hearing and visioning all that was happening, she was a member of the black rose, she knew this would happen and she sat by and let it happen.

Kayle lost count of how many men took her, some in her sex, others spilling their seed in her mouth. Some may have taken her more than once, she couldn’t be sure. The angel retched several times, but the men paid no mind, pawing at her naked body and taking their pleasure in turns. The pain was unbearable, and she could feel her consciousness slowly slipping away. It felt like the world was spinning in circles and she was falling to her demise.
“How humiliating, how low will she sink? What other tortures linger in her mind?” She thought, panicked. She could barely breathe.


The men took turns fucking Kayle. Some bent sweating over her, pressing down hard and crushing her body as they thrust. Others grabbed fistfuls of her white hair, yanking her neck until she had to arch her back. One man grabbed her wrists, forcing and pinning them behind Kayle’s back before he pushed inside of her. Another man kept slapping her hip hard while he fucked until the angel began to hiss from the sting. Some men took her with agonizing slowness, while others drove into her so hard and fast she yelped and squirmed, finally biting her own arm in an attempt to keep still and quiet when she saw LeBlanc’s ever-present gaze turn dangerous. The blood and other semen did serve as lube for the assault, but she was still in pain. There was hardly any friction as one man after another slid into her. Some seemed only interested in a quick release, while others clearly savored the tight wetness.

It took a great deal of effort, but Kayle raised her head and could see LeBlanc smirking down at her. A smirk that enjoyed any humiliation she could get out of the slave.

“Please,” Kayle croaked with tears in her eyes, “Please … please …”

“Enough,” LeBlanc said. The man raping Kayle gave one final, hard thrust, and then pulled out, grumbling in frustration that he did not finish, but wise enough to mind his cruel matron.

Kayle stared at LeBlanc, almost in joy at her relief. “Hmmm, well, now,” the mage began, smiling, “It appears you may not have enjoyed my men as much as I had hoped.” She nodded towards Kayle’s bleeding womanhood. Nothing that had passed had given her a bit of pleasure. “Perhaps you would prefer my kind caresses, after all. Now, are you grateful?”

Kayle let out a strangled sob. “Yes..v-very grateful.”


Those cold, amber eyes burned into her. “Yes. Yes, you are, though I almost forgot to mark you~”


Kayle looked up weakly, in an instant two robed men held her by her arms and forced her to kneel. In the far corner there was running black cauldron with flames emerging, there Leblanc was holding a long branding iron in the fire. She was humming to herself and waited until the entire branding iron was covered in a smoldering amber that released smoke in the air.


"I am the Matron of The Black Rose and what not better than to brand my wingless slave with that honor? It would fit nicely with your collar as well," The sorceress mused, showing the front to be the brand of The Black Rose.


Kayle's eyes widen and her mouth is left agape, she rapidly shook her head in fear, tears falling from her golden eyes she weeped and begged, "No! P-Please don't do this, please!"


The purple-haired Noxian chuckled by her pleads and walked slowly to intimidate the slave further, once she was in front of Kayle she positioned the braiding iron to her right breast.


"Right here, this may sting a little," She purred and pressed the smoldering iron against Kayle's skin. Morgana turned away from the sight but she could not block the screaming that would follow.


The hissing sound of the iron meeting the skin echoes through the room,then the screaming followed. A scream pierce the empty like a dying soldier. The first cries were undoubtedly terror, but not the shrill cries of a scared child, the cries of one with eyes locked wide and every muscle rigid. The next were of pain, garbling and pitiful. Wave of pain suddenly washed over the angel; it was exquisite, and debilitating even for most experienced of torturers. For both Kayle it was the worst burning sensation she  had ever felt, it added more when the smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils. Adrenaline had masked the jagged injury for at least a little while, but now it was biting. LeBlanc let go of the branding iron and took a few steps back. The pain was merciless without escape. For a second she felt too weak too continue, her head fell onto the ground shoulder her eyes flickered. Eventually, the pain settled into a sort of sharp throbbing that kept time with Kayle's heart, like someone was poking her repeatedly with a burning stick, which was the case. The Black Rose members watched in awe as the red blistering scar of a rose was imprinted on the Demacian's right breast.

LeBlanc traced her fingers on the slave's thighs to gather some blood, she walked back in front of a glowing green mirror and holds the blood to her staff. A moment later, powerful magic unleashed from the mirror and vision of the mist spreading further into Ionia is shown as every other member gleefully watch. While all this is happening Morgana keeps her eyes on her broken and bleeding sister, she wears a cold yet sympathetic expression on her face. She had no intention to save Kayle from this, her feeling towards her sister felt conflicted, she loved Kayle yet hated her for abandoning her, it was like she was picking each rose petal with the same outcome. Even before their father's death she felt that their bond was broken, she could not remember what caused this bond to break but even she knew it was far from repair. Seeing Kayle naked, bleeding, and crying somehow seemed familiar, Morgana could not place her finger on it but she knew she saw this before.

Chapter Text

Two weeks it’s been, it's been two weeks since she last saw her sister, two weeks since she was branded, two weeks since she was gang-raped by LeBlanc’s commands, two weeks since she was saved, two weeks since she was locked in the dungeons. Kayle was too weak to get pregnant from the rape, she was too skinny to carry a child. Surprisingly, she's in her nearly two months of enslavement she was only feeding one time and she was not skin and bones yet, skinny she became but not acute malnourished. LeBlanc only takes the slave out of the dungeon to either pleasure her with her tongue or clean the manor. The burning blistery scar that formed on her right breast from the branding still stung, it burned her so bad she was left crying in the dungeon for two days, the pain had been eating away at her skin and the red marking forming the shape of a rose became visible enough to see and she was only kept in the cell to weep over her wounds all because LeBlanc was starving her out and she had to earn the right to be feed.


As of now, she was cleaning the library, it wasn’t dirty it never was, with her disability there wasn’t much she could do. LeBlanc even forces Kayle to clean the living room as she crawling just so that she could see her angelic wings that she loved to fly with, whenever she saw them she felt like her wings were flying on their own while she was forced to stay on the ground. No, Kayle didn't want to think about that any longer. It was too upsetting. All she had left was the here and now, and she had to focus on that to keep her sanity. There had to be at least one sane thing in this house, she thought, as she wiped the living room floor. Letting her be in the same room as her wings, and not allowed to touch them, was her idea of a sick joke. Kayle tried to avoid sobbing every time she had to wipe the glass box that contained her wings. How she longed to open it up and try to fly again or just hold them, but she knew she would no longer be able to fly or walk again. She always asked Pierre to let her clean the library instead of the living room.They treated them no better than cattle or pigs. She had heard the Noxians encourage the slave owners to have children with the slaves and then rip the family apart, selling the family members to different plantations or master. Children never saw their parents again. Every slave was fed rations only enough to keep them from starving and it was the same meager fare every day, though in the case of an immortal she was not fed at all. If she didn't work hard enough she was tortured with unknown spells that gave her the sensation of being flayed, if she made mistakes she would be humiliated and heaven helps her if she ever thought of running away. She had been whipped with the cat many times until her back was a bloody mass of open flesh, sometimes it would be done in front of the grand general, though he never paid much attention. Kayle didn’t want those memories seeping in her mind, she only had to focus on wiping the tiles.


Just as she was finishing up, she heard the sound of a page turning, the judicator turned to see the sorceress sitting in an armchair and reading a book. LeBlanc was a quick and quiet reader, she never bothered Kayle whenever she was reading, she was lost in the pages to even consider the slave's existence. Today was a quiet day, the quiet days were idled away, LeBlanc sitting in her armchair near the sunniest window. She was reading and humming a song as she turned each page. Kayle was stunned by how peaceful the Noxian looked, it was a view she had never seen before. LeBlanc had just been sitting there, sun shining across her porcelain face. With an ease that the world craves to grasp, but never seems to capture. For it keeps spinning and swirling around, chaos leaking from its pores. Blind, others wander the earth searching, no… yearning, and starving for the peace that the sorceress has already achieved. Yet she sits alone, eyes captured and closed to the world and its troubles like she had forgotten all she had done to the slave. A brief smile stretches across her face as a gust of wind encircles her from the open window. LeBlanc looked….beautifully peaceful.
Kayle gathered her cleaning equipment and crawled towards the dark mage. Before she started LeBlanc had told her if she has done a good job she promised to feed her, the Demacian was suspicious at first but she was a beggar and the pain of starvation was too much to bear. "I have finished, my lady,” she said.


LeBlanc took her eyes off the book and looked around the room. The floor had been cleaned so well the entire library had reflected off the black and white tiled floor, "You’ve done an excellent job, Casséaile, I certainly see an improvement," she praised, patting the girl on the head.

“T-Thank you, my lady," Kayle said tensely.

"Excellent job indeed," LeBlanc said mostly to herself "Well as promised, are you hungry?"

The angel looked at her, wanting to cry and fighting the urge, "Yes, mistress."

LeBlanc mused, starvation was an effective breaking method but now she must move on to another. Breaking in the slave did have an improvement since the gang rape, though Kayle still did have some of her divine pride left. Well, one would replace the other in time. She could wait, for now, she needed to play with the slave.

"I have something for you," LeBlanc stood up and turned the small table beside her and picked up a fair size blue gift box. "Open it,” she commanded as she placed it beside the slave.

Kayle felt her fingers tremble as she pulled the blue ribbon off the box. Lifting the lid she pulled back the tissue. A Demacian linen camisole slip-dress lay within it resembled the pretty many layered underskirts she had worn in the past. "It's very pretty," Kayle commented trying not to show her fear to her owner.

Emilia LeBlanc nodded. "I would like you to wear this for me this evening, those rags are improper and are already falling apart."

Kayle bit her lower lip, as she lifted the dress out of the box. Beneath the dress was a matching pair of thong panties in the same linen. She looked up at the older woman. "You want me to dress up for you?"

"Yes," the sorceress said placing her hand under Kayle’s chin. "I do."

The angel looked down in embarrassment, LeBlanc was in a good mood so it seems, making her feel anything else will only be painful for her. "Very well," she acquiesced.

"Good, go on now." She motioned her hand for the judicator to change. She toyed with the idea of making her Casséaile dress up in a maid uniform for her own amusement but decided to break her down through other methods. She silently watched her. "Yes, the dress suits you, my slave."

Kayle looked startled as the matron watched her dress. She nearly dropped the dress. "My lady, you wish of me to dress here?” she asked fumbling with the bundle in her trembling hands. “Don’t be so modest now, I have already seen every part of you,” the sorceress mused. LeBlanc walked toward the leather wingback chair beside the oversized window that looked out on the grounds. The gardens were lit with the sun and the flowers bloomed beautifully. The Noxian sat down with the grace of a bygone age and looked at the wingless angel with a sensual leer. "Won't you come here, and thank me for the pretty frock?"

Still fearful, she crawled on her hands to where LeBlanc was sitting, almost enthroned. "Thank you, mistress, for the dress," she said not sure if that's what she wanted.

LeBlanc pursed her lips, disappointment in her eyes. "You call that a proper thank you?"

Kayle indeed did, in fact, she felt it was far more than the matron deserved as she had done things to her that were too dastardly to think of. "What more would you expect?" she asked cautiously.

LeBlanc looked down at her, from head to toe, and reached out a hand. She pulled Kayle up onto her lap, draped one arm over her shoulder and turned the angels face toward her. "I expect a kiss, Casséaile. When a lady provides a slave a gown of so…intimate a nature like this one, she expects a kiss as her reward."

The judicator stiffened not enjoying her game of cat and mouse, and not like the role of a mouse at all. "As the lady in question is guilty of having destroyed the honor of the slave, all she can expect is a slap," Kayle warned sharply.

"If the slave would like to eat dinner or anything besides her wings, she had best rethink that slap," LeBlanc warned just as sharply. "Now Casséaile that kiss if you please," she pulled the slave closer.

"I don't please," she said trying to pull back.

The matron paused. "Casséaile, dear, must I use the cat again?"

Her eyes opened wide, she remembered the feel of the kiss of the cat on her bare skin for these past weeks, the reason they were used wasn’t even good reasons, it was all because the slave was crying hysterically after the gang rape and the burning feel of the branding iron. Never had she wish to relive that again. "No." she whispered. She leaned toward LeBlanc and kissed her cheek, prepared to draw back, and was halted by the Noxians hand, her hand applying pressure to Kayle’s waist.

"A proper kiss, Casséaile," she warned.

Obediently, and with shame, Kayle turned her face letting her lips touched hers. She pulled back away from the woman.

LeBlanc looked at her with dissatisfaction. "Perhaps you have had no one to teach you how to administer a proper kiss," the sorceress pulled her neck back with a rough tough of her collar. "So allow me to give you instruction." LeBlanc propelled her back toward her face and pressed her lips firmly to hers. The mages jaw moved against hers, forcing her lips to part. Her tongue moved into Kayle’s mouth, nearly gagging her.

Kayle fought to submit to her but found she was too physically weak to fight LeBlanc off. The kiss did feel less hurting and bloody than their last kisses, though it usually occurs whenever she was in pain. Emilia finished her lesson on a proper kiss and pulled her closer. "That is the way I expect you to kiss in the future, Casséaile. When required to that is." She heard the tap at the door. "That will be Cornes with our dinner."

“Are we not eating in the dining room? The library may get dirty,” Kayle inquired.

LeBlanc looked at her as if what she said was ridiculous, “That is a privilege too, my dear, and you best hope the floor doesn’t get dirty from your presence.”

She wrapped both arms around the slave's slender waist.

"Come in, Cornes," she called.

The gargoyle walked in the light, eyes bulging as if the hatred behind them was about to burst forth. His face looked monstrous and more fierce than the rest of the gargoyles. The gargoyle rolled a cart into the room, "Good evening mistress, Casséaile." He bowed slightly toward the pair and in a low growling voice though LeBlanc knew that is just what he sounded like. Cornes was a kind servant even though he looked and sounded demonic. "Where would you like this setup, my lady?"

LeBlanc pointed to an alcove that was covered by drawn curtains. "Candles too, if you please Cornes," she looked at the girl in her hands. Kayle’s face blushed with color, ashamed of her attire and her situation. She knew the slave was uncomfortable being seen in the dress that was little more than a sexy undergarment. The sorceress allowed the Demacian to bury her face in her shoulder.

“Cute,” she thought.

The gargoyle dressed the table, lit candles and opened the stereo. The little alcove resembled a lovers hideaway, making even the hardened Cornes wings and horns uncomfortable. He rolled the cart to the side and walked out to the main chamber. "Your dinner is ready, my lady."

LeBlanc nodded. "You may go, Cornes."

Kayle heard the door close behind the stone creature, "Is he gone?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, Casséaile, the scary gargoyle is gone," LeBlanc nudged the girl off her lap, standing up she took Kayle’s chin in her hands. "Rest assures, slave, he is a gentle creature, don’t be so judgmental now." It sounded more like a threat then an observation made to comfort.

Kayle shrank back slightly before she could stop herself. "Yes…mistress." She folded her arms as if to keep herself warm. In an instant, a spell the mage cast caused the air to pick the Demacian up and carried her to the alcove. "Put me down," she yelped.

"You prefer to crawl? My you really are an animal," LeBlanc teased.

The Noxian seated her then walked to the other side of the intimately set table and took her own seat. With a flourish, she placed her napkin on her own lap. "Would you like a glass of wine, my dear?" She asked casually. How kind the sorceress sounded caused Kayle to keep cautious, LeBlanc was never this kind with her, she clearly wanted something.

"I don't partake," Kayle looked down at her hands in her lap. "It was not something that I ever grew fond of.”

LeBlanc poured a small bit of wine in her glass, swirled the fluid over the sides and watched the trailing. "That is rather unfortunate," the purple-haired Noxian said as she breathed the bouquet of the liquid. "Good color, fine trailing, excellent bouquet," she sipped and smiled. "Delightful. I insist you must join me in a glass."

Kayle looked uncertain and hesitant when she spoke. "My lady…I don't know how…"

The sorceress looked at her as she poured into her goblet. "I shall cut it with some water, as you are unaccustomed to imbibing.” LeBlanc poured a bit of water in and commanded her. "Sip, slowly. Let it drench your palate and breathe through your nose." She watched as the judicator did as ordered. Kayle followed the instructions and still found herself coughing slightly as the liquid went down. LeBlanc lifted her goblet to her lips, sipped and swallowed the wine. "Again." She motioned the girl.

Picking up the goblet the Demacian wondered what LeBlanc would do if she spritzed her with the contents. Her frown told Kayle she was aware of her thoughts and she brought the goblet to her lips. The second sip went down much easier than the first and filled her with warmth. She placed the goblet down and looked up at the matron raising her chin almost defiantly.

Emilia smiled indulgently at her. "Make no mistake, Casséaile. If I didn't value your fiery spirit, I would take great pleasure in breaking you of it. However, I prefer a feisty slave to an insensible lump that lies unconscious, unresponsive and lifeless beneath me. Destroying and rebuilding is my preferred method but your spirit is one to keep."

“Where is master?” she asked quietly.

“At a meeting with General Du Couteau,” the Noxian answered casually.

Kayle looked away feeling her cheeks warm with a blush. She looked at the surroundings of the room. "You entertain in the manor…often?" she was trying to change the subject.

"No Casséaile," LeBlanc began to eat her dinner. "I have never entertained, as you put it, any other men or women in my rooms here, besides Jericho of course. I prefer to use sluts elsewhere, and not contaminate my home."

Kayle shot a look at her. "That's rather a harsh term to use is it not, mistress?"

"I called them sluts for a reason," LeBlanc disagreed in casual conversation. "That is what they were, men and women who hired their bodies out for the use of others?" She made no excuses. "Common whores."

"And what of the ones who hire them?" Kayle was not sure why she was arguing with her or why she was defending humans. "Do they not deserve some kind of derogatory term as well?"

LeBlanc laughed slightly. "My dear angel, are you under the mistaken belief that everyone is equal," At her renewed blush the Noxian shook her head. "I see sadly that you are. Allow me to dispel that fallacy for you. The superior ones will never be looked at the same way the inferior are, not even ones who hire their bodies for pleasure, and I assure you my innocent there are many who do." LeBlanc looked at her with dark eyes. "I don't disrespect the women who hire themselves out, they perform a great service. When I use them I pay them well and treat them with care enough so as not to damage the goods."

"I highly doubt that after all, you have done to me it would not come as a shock if you had hurt one of them. That's a horrible way to speak of anyone….is that how you will speak of me?" Kayle said it before she could stop herself, and quietly to herself blamed the two sips of wine for loosening her tongue. She looked down at her hands on the table. LeBlanc gave it thought, "No, Casséaile," she said commanding the slave's attention when the angel looked up she continued. "The difference being, they hire themselves, you have no choice in the matter. You are not a slut, you are my slave."

"I'm not your slave or anyone else's.” Kayle clenched her fist and gritted in anger.

LeBlanc felt the corner of her mouth twitch. "Calm yourself," she said quietly. Kayle glared at her. She repeated her command just as quietly. "Calm yourself." Kayle saw the dangerous look in her eyes and obeyed her but kept the glare.

"Magnificent," the matron growled. "On the contrary, Casséaile, you have mistaken again. You are very much my slave." Seeing the girl was about to protest The Noxian held up her hand toward her. "Don't bother trying to defend yourself, it's useless. You are at my mercy here, Casséaile. Now eat your dinner. Don’t persuade me to take away your reward."

Kayle looked down at the meal, all of this was too suspicious to her, this had to be a trick, she pushed her plate forward. "I find my appetite has vanished."

LeBlanc leaned on the table for a moment. "It is at my pleasure that you are allowed a meal. Now eat, slave or I'll force it down your pretty throat." Her voice was menacing without being raised. Kayle pulled the plate back and ate. The food was good, however, after months of starvation the food was almost overwhelming for her and it seemed that her body was too weak to digest or accept any food. To avoid throwing the food back up she had to chew slowly and prepare to swallow her own vomit. LeBlanc watched her sadistically. "Do you enjoy classical music?" She asked listening to the music playing.

"I suppose I do," Kayle mused. "I have listened to it since I was a child."

"Yes," the matron said nodding, "I know. Nevertheless, I wondered if you enjoyed it. One can do something because one is obligated or coerced without really or readily enjoying it."

Leaning back, the judicator closed her eyes and listened to the gentle music playing. Her face went soft and peaceful. "No, I think I like the music."

"Even though it's out of place in your divine world?" She asked.

Kayle opened her eyes, "Classical music is not out of place…it has a place all its own."

"Well said, Casséaile," the mage praised. "I am certain your sister would be able to answer that as well."

"You've brought her up several times since my enslavement. Why?" Kayle asked as she continued to eat what her body could let her.

"You two fascinated me," she confessed lightly. "One virtuous and one vice." She poured more wine for herself. "Your sister was an interesting little thing when she first joined The Black Rose, her views on humanity and justice certainly differed from yours, I was quite shocked to believe you two could possibly be related."

Kayle put her fork down. "Damn it all, I wish I could argue with you on that observation. Alas, I can not."

"Yes, well, you're an intelligent albeit a young woman, Casséaile." LeBlanc teased. Looking at her plate LeBlanc was satisfied she would have strength for the activities she had planned for later. "Did you enjoy your dinner?"

"Yes, thank you, mistress." Kayle took another sip of wine. "I don’t believe my body was strong to eat after months of neglect. It was delicious either way, my compliments to your chef."

LeBlanc smirked, "I shall inform the staff that you are pleased." She jested.

The jest put Kayle on the guard, and she decided to try and stir the conversation. "Did you have a productive day, my lady?"

"Very," the matron said. "My fortunes are increasing, greater than ever in fact." The look on the angels face pleased her, Kayle was confused. "How are your legs now?"

The Demacian grimace when she remembered her legs. "I still can’t move them." She admitted. "Why must you remind me?"

LeBlanc snickered as she snapped her fingers for the slave to crawl. "Would you like to sit on the balcony for a bit, while the others clear our dishes?" She suggested.

"That would be lovely, but cold." the Judicator pointed to the once sunny sky which now shown black clouds.

"Ah yes,” the Noxian lamented. "The weather is unpredictable in Noxus…" She guided her back toward the leather wingback chair and placed her into in. LeBlanc then pressed her finger on her temple and whispered like she communicating to someone, must have been telepathy. "Cornes, we are ready for you to clear, what…no, no dessert at this time, thank you." LeBlanc rejoined her. "I'll be taking my dessert later." Kayle trembled at her suggestive words and looks. Emilia smiled pleased that she reacted to her even if it was a reaction brought on by fear. Cornes entered and quietly went about clearing the dinner service. "Leave the wine," the sorceress ordered, "And our glasses." She then waved the gargoyle off. She poured a bit more wine into Kayle's glass, her own, and brought them both to where the girl was seated. She took the chair opposite her and passed her glass to her. "Drink." She commanded with authority.

Kayle frowned. "I'm not used to alcohol." She objected.

“Not as if you will die,” LeBlanc remarked, she leaned forward, guided the goblet to her lips and tipped. "Drink." She commanded again, in a gentle tone. "One can not get used to wine unless one drinks it. And it pleases me to have you drink wine with me."

The white-haired angel gulped down the liquid that was at her lips. "I think you're trying to get me drunk, my lady." She accused as the woman took her hand from the bottom of her goblet.

"A tipsy Casséaile," she teased. "The thought is pleasing," LeBlanc observed her lasciviously. She sipped her own goblet. "Your sister was never quite so concerned about being in her cups, a few centuries back when she went through what you refer to as a wild stage."

Kayle looked at the matron, her head slightly dizzy from the wine. "I don't suppose you had anything to do with her current state?" She covered her lips with one hand worried she was speaking too boldly.

LeBlanc shook her head, "On the contrary my slave," she gloated with lusty delight and satisfaction. "Morgana’s wanton behavior was all your own doing. I merely enjoyed it."

"Personally?" The Judicator was sure she didn't want to know.

LeBlanc placed her wine down on the table between the two seats. "As a matter of fact, yes. It was fifty years ago, and she happened to be in the back of a certain room in the heart of Noxus that caterers to debauchery. It's a common practice in for a female guest to go to the back room, strip off all her clothes and perform sexual acts for anyone willing," LeBlanc watched as Kayle's face lost all color. She looked like she saw a ghost. "I was intrigued that so pristine a lady as your sister presents herself as would happily go off to a dark room and strip naked to dominate others or be dominated. There were many men there that night that seemed only too happy to take her up on the offer of sexual favors, from the evening's host to the bus boys."

The angel closed her gold eyes, not wanting to hear any more. "I think I've heard enough."

"Not nearly enough," LeBlanc said still keeping her tone light. "She was inviting them in two and three at a time."

Kayle turned her head away in disgust. "Please, no more."

Ignoring her request the Noxian stood up and walked behind her, placing her hands lightly on her shoulders. "She'd been at it from several hours, and showed no signs of letting up. Her appetite is voracious for an angel." The girl under her touch shuddered and she turned Kayle to face her. "She has a very good mouth and knows how to use it."

The thought of her twin doing something so immoral and filthy cause her to jolt, spilling some of her wine from her glass to the exposed flesh above her bosom. Before she could react, LeBlanc took the goblet away, placing it on the table as she bent forward to lap it off her with her tongue. Kayle gasped in pain as her tongue traced over the branding mark.

LeBlanc licked her lips when she raised her head and continued her oration of Morgana’s bad behavior. "I had half expected her to be worn out or at least winded when I entered the den of iniquity she had ensconced herself in. Instead, she looked like a racehorse awaiting a good ride." Kayle would have backed away had she not been holding her forearms tightly.

"She offered me many things that only one can hope to do with a beautiful woman," the sorceress chuckled. "I declined. She offered me any number of sexual fantasies, and I declined them all. I told her I was aware of who she was, and who her family was. She scoffed and made a face, told me she could care less how her behavior reflected on her twin. She said if I intended to save her I could just show myself out and send the next one in. Bold, she was about it too. She told me this was for her own sexual gratification and she was no whore. I told her I had no intentions of saving her but was there to savor a moment of sin with her. I told her what I wanted and she complied. She sank to her knees before me, lifting my dress and then worshiping my…"

Kayle covered her ear. "No more!" She begged loudly, turning from her.

LeBlanc trapped the girl with her arms, placed her lips to her elf-like ears and growled: "She is exceedingly talented with her tongue." The wingless angel in her arms cringed and moaned. "She was certainly the best I have had. When I finished with her, she was spent and satisfied. Do you think she was aroused when she saw you being raped by twenty different men?"

Kayle broke free of her grasp, only because LeBlanc wanted her to. She fell to the floor and looked up at her owner with hatred. "That's a horrid thing to tell me."

LeBlanc watched her as the things she'd said set in her mind. "And that my dear is the difference between you and your sister. You are upset and insulted on her behalf. I have no doubt she'd not extend you the same consideration. Besides the fact she had not bothered to stop me from letting those men rape you." As Kayle spun on her she caught her hand as it went to slap the matron. "Which is why you are here, and she is not." The tears Kayle had been fighting now spilled. Her hands covered her face as she wept. "You’re doing this to me to see if she will stop you?"

"Not exactly that alone but precisely so," LeBlanc admitted. "What sense is there in making a sex slave out of vice? While I do enjoy the company of your sister and all she gave for Noxus, she is simply a comrade than a treasonous ex-Demacian to use."

Enraged at her accusation, Kayle launched herself at the woman with her fingers like talons. "You monster, that's not true!" her body gave out and she fell to the ground.

LeBlanc knelt beside her. "I have pictures to prove it, Casséaile." The sorceress pulled her collar roughly knowing it would cause her pain. "Would you care to see them?"

Kayle choked on her own tears. "No!" She tried to pull free and back way on the floor.

"I remember in her exact words when she suggested you to me is “Let her burn in her personal hell.” certainly a good suggestion wouldn't you say?" She taunted. "I wonder if I should share you with her, it would certainly bring a new meaning to ‘keeping it in the family’," As Kayles neck pulled backed to pull free, LeBlanc knew she was already unsteadiness, tugging on the painful collar brought her to submission. Trapping the slave against her chest, she crooned into her ear. "You are a sweet virgin, innocent and so ripe. Even now in this lovely frock, you look virginal and like a little human girl in the fields."

The angel stopped struggling, "What did you just say?" she gasped thinking of her words earlier. The judicator head came away from her chest; Kayle was glaring at her with comprehension and insight into the depths of her dark soul. The Demacians ignorance was evaporating, being replaced with knowledge of information she had no desire to be familiar with. "What did you say?'

LeBlanc looked at her hardly concealed shape, her full round breast laced tightly into the camisole top. "I said you look like a little human girl, virginal and ready to be plucked."

The tears quickly dried up. "Where did you get this dress?" Kayle demanded, fearful of her next admission.

"I had it designed for you, Casséaile. It's a copy of what you wore when you would play in the fields with your twin," Emilia said with a bold brassy smile. "Of course a little more adult friendly but you'd already figured that out, hadn't you, my wingless angel?"

"You're dressing me up like when I was younger?" She snorted. "That's beyond sick, that's….that's…."

"What I desire," LeBlanc scrutinized her mood and movements; she kept the grip on Kayle’s neck at an even pressure. "You are always pure, always stubborn, and now with Demacia out of the way I have you all to myself. Leaving you entirely at my mercy, my sweet."

"T-That is horrific." She stuttered. "And I won't be dressed up to imitate my childhood self just so you can fulfill some disturbing fantasy about raping me then." She began to pull at the lacing of the bodice of the camisole. "I would rather go naked."

LeBlanc stood up and pulled her wrists from the lace, fingers clamping down painfully on her open wounds. She whimpered pleading for the sorceress to stop. She didn't stop; she lightened her grip but keep hold of Kayle’s wrists firmly. "I will dress you as I see fit, slave." With no effort at all the mage forced her hands back behind her back, her shoulders still hurt from the torture two days ago, and she cried out. "You are forgetting your place, Casséaile. You will now apologize for having insulted your mistress and you will beg me to forgive you."

The pain in her shoulders was like a hot knife. "I'm sorry, mistress." She cried out. "Forgive me." LeBlanc tugged her wrists again, this time she nearly fainted from the wave of pain. "Forgive me…" her plea rung out.

LeBlanc released her hands, placing her at her waist; it was so small and skinny she could encircle the slave with her fingers. "You will place your arms about my neck." The Noxian ordered. "And you will offer me a kiss in a request for forgiveness and an the admission of guilt." Expectantly she waited. "Don't try my tolerance girl, I have no more patience."

There was no way out of it, or around it, and Kayle steeled herself. Her hands crept up to her shoulders, but she could go no farther. "I can’t stand." She whispered respectfully. The matron took her seat and motioned for Kayle to sit on her leg. When she was seated the woman waited expectantly for her to comply. The angel took a long ragged breath and placed her arm over the shoulder of her owner. Turning her face to the matron Kayle closed her eyes and waited.

LeBlanc watched her with amusement. "No, slave, you must proffer me the kiss." Kayle kept her gold eyes closed and moved her face toward her. She didn't say a word; just kept her gold eyes shut and placed her lips to the sorceress. "Still so stubborn," LeBlanc reply angrily as she knotted her fingers in Kayle’s white hair, yanked knowing she'd cry out in pain. As she did LeBlanc began to tongue her violently even as the judicator tried to pull back. She yanked harder and growled. "You'd best be convincing with the apology," she warned. Kayle reluctantly opened her mouth for her. "That's much better…slave." She lingered over the word slave when she finished the punishing kiss.

Kayle cowered, wanting to run and hide. LeBlanc set her down and stood up, gripped her collar and pushed her to the floor. "Time for your next lesson, my dear."

"No!" She struggled. "You have done enough to me."

Emilia smiled wolfishly at the struggling girl. "We are far from done" Shoving her to lay on the floor LeBlanc stood over her with an evil gleam in her amber eyes. "We shall continue with Lesson three, your mistress's needs and desires."

Kayle looked up at her, "Let me go." Her voice broke.

LeBlanc took a seat beside her, ignoring the plea. "You have such lovely skin, and so delightful a figure." She leered at her. "You may now begin to unlace your bodice, slave. Do so slowly, I want to enjoy the show."

Something in her eyes told the girl she meant her great harm if she didn't comply with her orders made to sound like requests. 'I'm not a slave.' She told herself. 'I belong to me, not to her.' Kayle brought her hands up to the lacing at the low cut and suggestive neckline of the linen gown. She pulled the long laces, the fabric allowed a view of her full breasts while still covering them, the burning blister of a rose was shown to the matron, LeBlanc smirked when she saw the scar. Kayle listened to the changes in LeBlanc’s breathing as she loosened the gown. She had averted her eyes, refusing to look at the sorceress enjoying her discomfort.

"You may stop," LeBlanc commanded. When the girl dropped her hands into her lap, she knelt before her owner. "You will watch, I want your eyes open and aware." Her left hand slid from Kayle’s bruised jaw down her throat, migrating leisurely at a snail's pace down to her right breast. With the bodice open, LeBlanc hands no trouble sliding her hand beneath the linen fabric. The sorceress cupped the breast, fingers flexing and then she began to softly knead and massage the flesh of her body, specifically the one with the scar which causes the slave too since in pain. LeBlanc manipulated the breast and then began to work on the rising bud of her nipple. The Noxian felt her pulse quicken, and her body responds to her ministrations. She looked up from the scar on her breast to her golden eyes. "How can you deny that you enjoy my touch, even now I read in your eyes the denial? Yet, here," she pulled on the hardened rosebud of a nipple with thumb and forefinger. "Here is proof that your body betrays you." LeBlanc looked down to the now bared breast. "Your body delights me in so many ways, Casséaile." She leaned closer placing her lips to the nub, then flicking it with her wicked tongue. Kayle shuddered, and she chuckled softly, deeply and darkly. "This may hurt, my dear." She warned as she placed her mouth over the bruised nub and began to suckle.

Kayle cried out softly, LeBlanc looked up at her without releasing the bud, as her amber eyes and her gold ones converged she sucked harder. The sorceress swirled her tongue over the painful peak. Her teeth scraped over it and pulled it. Her eyes never left Kayles during this torture. Her other hand shoved the fabric covering the other breast aside and she repeated the torture on the other side. When she had finished, LeBlanc sat back on her haunches, hands on either side of her hips on the floor. "A slave’s body was designed to please their owner," LeBlanc said brashly. "Your body pleases me, and will please me, even more, when you have learned how to entice and tempt me."

"I will never do that, LeBlanc. I am not here willingly." She said with difficulty.

LeBlanc raised a brow at her denial, amused that she was refusing her. "Fortunately for you my dear girl, I happen to enjoy taking you by force. I doubt I shall ever tire of raping you." The mage knelt up and leaned closer. "I'm a patient woman about some things, my dear. Otherwise, I would have simply erased your memory and made you a mindless slave, but that would be boring." LeBlanc smiled at her. "We will never be lovers, dear angel, for there is no love to be had betwixt us. However, in time, you will be a lovely little sex slave, my bed toy. I shall train you to please me…and I will watch as your body betrays you with every delightful shudder and twinge of thrill that courses through your very being. The other day you begged to harm yourself, progress is already being made."

Kayle found it hard to breathe when the woman was this close. "You're a monster, Emilia LeBlanc," She said slowly, forcing her pulse to slow.

"Yes, I am." LeBlanc agreed. "Now undress me, pet. I want to feel your hands on my skin."

"And if I refuse?" Kayle asked boldly.

LeBlanc lifted her hand and caressed the angel's cheek, "Casséaile, don't make me regret feeding you." She cupped her jawline. "Or it will be the last meal you have for a very long time."

"You're so sure you…" she sought to find words.

"You will perform your task?” LeBlanc supplied. "I detest how your contemporaries refer to it." She mused. "Slave labor." She shook her head. "Moreover to answer you, yes, little girl…I'm quite sure. The only reason I even offered you the chance of being feed is that after the meeting your sister came to me and requested you to be feed. I told her not to worry about you and she seemed concerned for your current state. Though it took me three weeks to offer you the chance I still offered it, now don’t make me regret it." Standing up LeBlanc gripped her forearm and pulled her to her knees, the bones that were also unresponsive stood enough for her to kneel properly. "Now, remove my clothes, Casséaile ." The Matron saw the slave calculate in her mind and halted her reasoning. "Get on with it, stop stalling, there is no escape."

Kayle, wounded and indignant whimpered softly as she raised her fingers the opening of her clothes. "I hate you." She said under her breathe.

Again LeBlanc ignored her comment. "A woman gets pleasure from an inferior being doing little things, such as undressing her. Touching her skin with its tender hands before she begins to sweat and grind into it." the sorceress said as if teaching a class on intimacy.

Kayle wished she could block her voice out, and she hated the fact nothing would ever work her way and she was slowly being molded without her knowledge.

"Now slowly, carefully and deliberately tender, I want you to remove my dress," LeBlanc commanded. The Judicators hands slid up the front of her chest, under the fabric and she began to peel the dress off her. "I have the benefit of a long life of experience, and I will take pleasure in corrupting you to my will," she said as her hands pulled the sleeves off her pale and smooth body. LeBlanc was now naked from the waist up, her breast was as large as Kayle’s and was smooth and pale as the rest of her body."I will teach you to touch, to kiss, and to take pleasure in the sins of the flesh," LeBlanc pulled the shoulders of Kayle’s gown down her arms and bared her from the waist up.

Kayle closed her eyes, refusing to be a willing participant in her own ravaging. The Noxian found amusement in her paltry attempt, "Close your eyes if you like, my dear. It will not help. Your body will learn whether you watch or not," LeBlanc bent her knees and encircled her waist, she pulled away for a moment and whispered a spell to summon the same large strap-on to violate the slave with. Lifting Kayle up and against her porcelain body. Her mouth found the slaves shoulder and began to assault her with hungry kisses and love bites. "Soon," she rasped in her ear, "I will make you bleed to where you will orgasm in it, it is never sex without a little crimson between your legs." The girl in her arms shuddered and began to struggle. The movement excited and pleased LeBlanc. "Yes, fight me." She encouraged her. "Fight for your life, Casséaile." The matron set her on her back, LeBlanc’s hands at her waist pulled the gown down her hips, leaving her in only the small panties. Humiliated and embarrassed the young woman looked away.

LeBlanc again bent her paralyzed knees, "Put your arms about my neck," she ordered as her hands reached behind and under Kayle, cupping her derrière and lifting her up against her. LeBlanc used the chains to wrap Kayle around her. “Such an adorable slave you are,” she cooed. Kayle whimpered and bite her lip. "Now look at me, slave." She waited; Kayle’s golden eyes were level with her. The sorceress knew the judicator could feel the toy ready to ravish her. The growl in the back of her throat grew. "Now open your mouth as I kiss you," LeBlanc brought her lips to the weeping angel, and she hesitantly opened her mouth to her owner. LeBlanc heard the soft sob and the lost whimper as she was betrayed yet again by her fear of the woman. "I am your mistress, little slave and it pleases me to use your lovely young body whenever I please and no one will save you."

Kayle shuddered her eyes had closed again.

LeBlanc reached down and gripped the waistband of her little linen panties. "Remove this and get yourself wet for me."

The girl kept her eyes closed as if not seeing would make it less horrid. She pulled the thong down her legs, discarding it over the side of the tile floor. Then she put two fingers in her mouth and reached down to rub the saliva on her dry womanhood. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Well done, slave." LeBlanc commended. "Compliance is a virtue."

Kayle shut her eyes and tried to imagine she was anywhere else as she felt LeBlanc position herself between her legs but not yet within her. It revolted appalled and sickened her that this woman finds these activities arousing. She could not deny that little tingles and twinges happened each time LeBlanc touched her. Now, as the sorceress lay between her legs kissing her neck and shoulders she felt warm where she didn't want to feel anything. The matron was enticing and sexually excited this, and Kayle was appalled.

LeBlanc paused, she felt her moisten too, not just from the saliva, there was no way she could miss it as she lay with her body so close. The matron smiled, looking at the slave's appalled face. She shifted slightly to allow her hand to tease Kayle’s womanhood, as one finger side through the slickness and into her. "It pleases me," she said dangerously, "that your body understands what you are to me even when your mind insists you are free, it’s adorable really," she watched as the angel fought to react to the finger that slid over her love nub and into her. "You have a hot little honey pot there and you can still feel it," LeBlanc felt her shiver with the shame of being fingered and made hot. She leaned closer. "You are so pure," she moaned in her ear. LeBlanc’s words caused her to cry out more, this all felt wrong to her. The Noxian placed her mouth over hers and parted her lips to her probing tongue. "Cry for me, little one, cry," Kayle was no longer in control and cried in sorrow and confusion as the matron quickened the pace of her fingers in the Demacian. This form of torture was one LeBlanc only used to toy with the slave's mind and Kayle’s mind was fun to toy with.

"Do you want more?" The sorceress asked, and she shook her head unable to speak and repulsed by her body, she would still try to keep her sanity. LeBlanc grinned and pulled her fingers back and easily replaced them with the strap-on. "I'm going to ravish you hard and fast and put you away bleeding," she promised.

Kayle cried out as the matron began her thrusts, blood was once again running between her legs, but did LeBlanc really believe she would ever find pleasure in bleeding? In being harmed? In harming herself? She brought the angel close to passing out over and over, then backed away only to ride her to the edge again and again. It hurt but it was a wounds that felt less intense and more like a bruised pounding that squished against her insides. The pain was horrible, feeling like she was being crushed but the pressure made it less with each thrust. When she thought she could stand no more she begged her. "It hurts, s-stop…"

Taking the slaves face into her good hand, her scent still lingering on her fingers, LeBlanc commanded her. "Call me mistress."

"Mistress." She swallowed the sob in her throat.

LeBlanc moved her hips. "Now mean it." She commanded in a ruthlessly strict tone.
Kayle looked away and refused.

"Still a bit of fight left in you?" LeBlanc teased, as she quickened her thrusts. "I was afraid I'd broken you already. It would have been such a pity had that been the case." She knew that sex will always be painful to Kayle but she did wonder if the angel could climax from pain. She'd toyed with the idea of not allowing her to have released, but because her own release was so close she decided to not let the slave share any, masochism does not come in a day. The sorceress quickened and deepened her strokes within her, she heard her gasping for air, and gripped the slave hard to her until LeBlanc shuddered and released her pleasure in the slave. Kayle laid beneath her; her gold eyes clenched shut and sobbing. LeBlanc removed herself from the girl and purred in her ear. "Well done, Casséaile." She praised. She heard Kayle sob into her shoulder, and LeBlanc smiled.


The pain will be Kayle’s only pleasure and LeBlanc will be sure to give her more of it.

Chapter Text

“Such a shame the weather remains quite bleak,” the grand general said to himself, standing by the window and looking at each raindrop hitting the grass and flowers in the garden.


Darkened gray smudges of wool threateningly surrounded the sky; like a predator would encircle its prey. A startling low rumble rang loud in the cool fall air, the sky roaring with satisfaction. Trickles of liquid hit the ground with as much force as a small child. Hungrily, drizzles turn into canon fires, barricading everything in its way. A sense of cleanliness caresses the atmosphere, washing away all impurities. A dense earthly sweet smell rises from the ground, enveloping everything within its soft embrace. The skies suddenly settle, as if it were comforted, coaxed even. The fluffy smudges don't part completely - although the sun peeks out timidly- and rather look like its preparing for an even more vicious round.


“How so? I for one enjoy the rain, the sound of the raindrops soothes my ear,” LeBlanc’s voice rolled off from where she was sitting on the bed.


Swain’s cold red eyes continued to gaze upon the garden. He forced himself to take his eyes away from the window and look at one of the chess board on the table, the lovers were playing chess the previous night though abandoned the game to take care of their more lustful desires. LeBlanc removed herself from the bed and walked over to him, walking completely naked, and flung her arms around him. “I wonder, did you abandon the game because I was the one that proved victorious?” she teased, circling her finger around his chest.

“Not at all…”

She pressed up closer to him and her amber eyes grew big when she felt how hard he was. “You are the only man that keeps things interesting, love,” the sorceress gave him a wicked smile. “Maybe we should just stay in for the day?”

Swain shook his head, “I have to attend a summit today.”

LeBlanc shrugged, “You can miss one or cancel, these summits can be utterly stressful for you,” Her hand moved down to his crotch, she felt him harden from her touch though he tried to hide it. She was right, of course. And he could definitely use some relief right now. He noticed her plunging neckline and her exposed body. LeBlanc always knew how to play out her assets. His initial uneasiness died down and he relaxed a bit. “That’s my grand general,” She cooed and kissed his neck. LeBlanc pulled away from him for a moment and snapped her fingers, causing Kayle to re-appear out of the shadows. The slave looked tired and wore the same rags she always did.

“Bring us some champagne,” the general ordered, sounding as dry as possible.

“Oh,” laughed the matron. “Taking charge now, are you?”

Swain ignored her remarks and kept his eyes on the slave, “Wait a minute, slave. Let me take a look at you,” he addressed her coldly.

Kayle glanced at LeBlanc. She nodded, indicating she should do what her master said. Kayle crawled as quickly as she could to the pair and looked at the ground, not daring to look the two Noxians in the eye.

“My, it does look awful,” Swain drawled dispassionately, taking a little walk around the wingless slave. “All skin and bones. Smells ghastly as well, if it weren’t immortal I would have taken it for a corpse.” Swain turned back to LeBlanc, “I am aware you hold the belief everything is an entitlement, though neglecting it seems unwise, wouldn’t you say?”

The sorceress shook her head and giggled from his statement, “You mustn’t worry, dear.”

Kayle turned a shade of pale and shook from the insult, the last thing she needed to do was talk back to the grand general.

“Go get the champagne,” LeBlanc ordered this time, waving her hand off for the slave to leave.

Kayle blushed and nodded, she crawled out the room in a swift.

Swain sighed to himself, the day had only just begun and yet he knew it would be a long one, even with the weather like this. Amongst the rain was the chilling air that also prevented others from the outside.

“Usually in this weather, you enjoy reading by the fire, Evaine. What changed your activities?”

“Oh, I certainly do,” LeBlanc agreed quickly. She leaned close and ran her fingers across his shirt, picking at the buttons playfully. “Though these activities excite me more~”
They sat down on the bed together. LeBlanc was running her finger through his long grey hair and left small kisses across his face.

“I notice you are not as interested in Casséaile as I had hoped,” LeBlanc continued. “Or do only I catch your interest?”

He shrugged noncommittally.

The mage’s eyes lit up with a poisonous glint. “Do you want to torture her? I can highly recommend it. I torture Casséaile every morning after breakfast. Just to whip it into shape for the day. Once its training is completed you can use it however you like, my grand general.”

Jericho didn’t respond back, with how weak and fragile the slave was it would be a miracle if it was even a fraction of its former self. He never found interest in the slave as did his lover but he had other plans for Casséaile.

“And to think the arena fights are moving closer than we thought,” she sighed dramatically. “Darius had informed me he expects to throw Garen Crownguard in the fighting pits, as did Talon said with that dragon girl, wouldn’t that be a sight to see?” LeBlanc laughed at the thought, then thought of something else. “Who was that other Demacian with the high count, how terrible his name escapes me…”

“Xin Zhao,” Swain answered mechanically, remembering his remarkable performance in the arena.

“Ah yes, Xin Zhao, I was looking forward to his performance in the arena though I heard he perished, how unfortunate,” the matron sighed though her tone suggested she had no sympathy for the Demacian.

Jericho’s rose an eyebrow by her statement, “He is dead?”

“Yes, that succubus from the Shadow Isles bought him just last month,” she sighed, “I heard he only lasted two weeks under her ownership, surely a record for a human.”

“Or a Demacian,” Swain drawled.

LeBlanc’s smile widened. “Oh certainly,” She sighed again then smiled. “I am blessed we have an immortal one, I give my gratitude for your suggestion, my love.”

“Are you grateful?”

Her eyes flashed mischievously at him. “Terribly.”

“Why don’t you show me, then.”

LeBlanc smiled coyly and leaned forward, slowly pressing her lips against his. Her tongue flicked out, and he opened his mouth to welcome it. She smelled nice. The perfume he had given her last summer. She made a point of wearing it whenever they were together. She was a wonderful lover, all things considered. Rather dominate, and sometimes downright sadistic, but she would always please him with her company. Swain grabbed her breast and kneaded them. She let out a long, heavy moan. Yes, she knew what he liked. His erection that had been dwindling from all that palaver, was now pushing against his pants again, straining to be set free. He grabbed her hand and rubbed it against it.

“Oh my, Jericho…” she sighed. “Eager aren’t you?”

“That is what you want, my dear,” he whispered lowly in her ear then traced his tongue there moments later. He gently pushed LeBlanc’s shoulders down, and a moment later she was sitting between his legs. The sorceress smirked as she zipped his pants down. She gasped when his cock emerged, though he kept a straight face. He could never get enough of that look of total awe she always gave it. Of course, there are many reasons he enjoyed her company, though that is one of it.

LeBlanc licked her lips and grabbed a firm hold of his manhood. Her nail polish was the same dark purple as her hair was. She started near the base, with small, wet nips. Then, a little more tongue. She moved further down and snaked along with his testicles, making him shift in his seat. He leaned back, so she could reach them better. She rubbed her whole face into them, and he sighed, running his hands all over her body. How any man could only wish to touch as the grand general could. So pale and full. He moaned softly, which did not go unnoticed by the matron. “Oh, I see I got a reaction from you…” With a smile, she continued the oral. Swain licked his lips, panting. “Go on…” She moved her attention lower still, flicking her tongue on the head. He shook and held back another moan, while she polished it until it was all slippery and wet. Then she moved upwards again, trailing her tongue and lips softly over his long shaft. He smirked. He was amused by how she seductively licked his member up and down, relishing it like it was some sort of sweets. When she reached the head again, Swain sucked his breath in through his teeth. He knew what was coming closer. She toyed with it a bit first, giving little licks and kisses around it, making his member throb in anticipation. It was pulsating towards her mouth, imploring her to let him in. Precome welled up from the opening. LeBlanc ran her thumb over it, spreading the fluid all over the head until it was smooth and glossy. Then, giving him a long, lustful look, she sealed her lips around it. Jericho closed his eyes with a frown, trying to hold back a moan to the best of his ability.

Pleased with herself, LeBlanc started to bob her head up and down. Her plump lips moved along his manhood at a steady pace, her tongue skillfully swirling around it. Her saliva mixed with his precome, and it all became one slick, wet mess. The grand general could see it dripping from the corner of her mouth, churned out by his cock. Meanwhile, her hand did excellent work tugging at his shaft. He panted on the pace of her movements, bucking his hips and shoving his cock upwards, trying to thrust it in deeper.

LeBlanc was stooped down low over him now, bottom high, her breast moving in unison with the bobbing of her head. The sorceress was her knees between his legs, her arse moving back and forth rhythmically. It was a thing of beauty.  Meanwhile, she was still slurping away greedily, changing the pace now and again to keep Swain pleased. She looked up at him, and he couldn’t help but smirk. Was there a prettier sight than a woman on her knees, breast and ass bare, any man would wish to be in his place.
To LeBlanc, Swain was the only man who could actually please her. Usually, when he was not around to satisfy her the matron would always sleep with Casséaile, though the wingless angel was never willing in their intercourse, LeBlanc always found her way. Maybe one day the slave can join them...

The bobbing of LeBlanc’s head, the movement of her back as she worked him. Most would be shocked they weren’t married, neither Swain nor LeBlanc were one to believe in marriage despite their high status, marriage would not change how they felt about each other, nothing did. Groaning, Swain grabbed a fistful of LeBlanc’s hair. “Hmpff,” she breathed. He ignored her attempts to protest and pulled her closer into him. She made a gagging sound, but she had no choice than to take him in deep. He dictated the pace now, keeping her head forcefully in place. She panted loudly, her chest heaving. She gulped again, her throat clearly would handle what he gave. He didn’t care. She liked it well enough.

Swain gently pulled LeBlanc off him, he held her by the hips and positioned his member at her womanhood. When she felt it nuzzle between her opening, she started and tried to turn around again. But Jericho held her head firmly in place. “Don’t worry, darling,” he grunted. “Trust me, you’re in for a treat.”

She frowned, but when he started pushing his manhood forwards, her face relaxed and she breathed out deeply around his member. “Yes, that’s it,” he whispered, his red eyes locked onto her ecstatic face. The grand generals' manhood was slowly spreading the lips apart.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned, closing her eyes, as the shaft drove itself in. Drool dripped from her mouth over her chin. Swain felt her insides wrap around him. He heightened the pace, thrusting hard inside her, She was completely filled up now, all the way to the brim. LeBlanc did her best to follow his rhythm, moving her hips with him, while laughing and moaning. Swain was moving more easily now. It was dripping wet. He pulled it all the way out and then plunged it back in. She grunted, and he repeated it again and again and again until she was nearly wailing around his cock. She was close too, almost in the process of climaxing, even. Jericho closed his eyes. He focused on the feeling. Her wetness, her womanhood, the moans and just the sheer decadence of it all. He felt it build. Felt it rise up inside of him like a wave. Somewhere below, LeBlanc let out a muffled, high-pitched scream, as her cunt contracted around his member. She opened her amber eyes…

…and saw Kayle clutching a tray with two glasses of champagne. They looked at each other in the eyes, Kayle’s face was completely red upon the sight. Without breaking the eye-contact with the slave, LeBlanc breathed out hard, almost whimpering, while the aftershocks ran through her body. Swain moaned and release it inside of her, moments after he pulled out and only then he noticed the presence of the slave.

“Casséaile!” she screamed, as she gave the Demacian an unapproving and angered look. “Who told you to come in?” The aggressive yell cause Kayle to flinch like she expecting a beating. LeBlanc gritted her teeth. She looked at the wingless slave, on her knees and her head hung low.

“Come here,” she ordered.

She did what the sorceress asked, crawling to the Noxians. Swain said nothing. He silently watched as the slave crawled. Her head was still bowed down.
“Look at me,” the mage ordered cruelty.

The judicator obeyed. Kayle knew she should have knocked before entering but when she heard the moans she assumed she could place the champagne in and quickly leave, though that proved to be a mistake.

“Well,” LeBlanc said sternly. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“I-I had to bring the champagne over, my lady. I couldn’t ignore your orders.” Kayle stuttered like a child speaking in front of the class, she was visibly scared.

“Is that so?” Swain interjected, staring coldly at the slave. “Ever heard of a thing called ‘knocking’? You should try it.”

Kayle gave LeBlanc a pleading look. Though she should know that with the nearly two months she spent in the manor, that mercy was not something LeBlanc was familiar with, still, she pleaded that mercy would come.

“Come closer.”

Kayle gulped and moved closer to the other woman.

LeBlanc slapped her sharply across the face with the back of her hand. Her head jerked sideways, stinging from the ring that caught the flesh, the white hair flying. She breathed in sharply, needing all of her willpower not to cry out in pain. The violence of the blow awakened something inside of LeBlanc that was almost more intense than the orgasm she had just experienced. Inflicting pain on others she considered lower than her was something she was fond of.

“Next time, knock before you enter,” she whispered dangerously.

Kayle still held the champagne, she dared not to drop it and be punished, though getting slapped in the face was not as painful as she thought it would be. The fire burned in the chimney, this was lit in the flask of champagne. LeBlanc smirked and leaned back on the bed, "Casséaile, pour us some champagne," she ordered casually. Kayle nodded and with her trembling hands poured two glasses for her owners, the sorceress was amazed by how she managed to pour them without spilling, Pierre trained her well. The judicator leaned to give them both the glass. Swain turned away from the two women and silently sipped the drink, though watching what is to unfold.

“Did you sleep well, Casséaile?” The matron asked casually as if she had forgotten she slapped the slave moments ago.

"I-I did, My lady," she answered with her downcast eyes and her restless fingers. "I-I thank you for asking, mistress."

LeBlanc moved the cup, agitating the drink, the Lady's soft lips shone in spittle, the sparkling fire increased the glow. The fear of Kayle could not reach a guess why was there, but anyways would serve little, LeBlanc's games sometimes were hard to understand.

"Come closer."

With difficult rattles, she approached her mistress. Her cold eyes told the slave to kneel beside her.

"Such a good dog," the naked sorceress mused, petting the slaves head.

LeBlanc brought the cup to Kayle, who shook her head, it was what she asked, however, she felt distrust of exceeding, or simply of that kindness.

"I ... do not deserve it ... my lady," her voice trembled.

"Of course you deserve it, Casséaile. Despite your punishment earlier I felt bad for hurting you. Here's your champagne, drink it."

Kayle’s trembling hands clutched at the cup, immediately it was leaning on her lips and the bitter taste on her tongue. With the first sip, her stomach growled and hurt, with the following she requested more, and with the final sip her head was spinning. The angel had to give her whole little strength to the cup does not slip through her fingers.


"You drank it too fast, Casséaile."

It was not a question, but she still nodded. Her cheek was caressed, making the Demacian shiver by feeling the touch of her mistress. Her fingers slid into Kayle’s mouth and part of the chin, cleaning the surplus of champagne.

"Do you want more?" LeBlanc asked gently, a little too gently. Swain caught onto his lovers act though he didn’t speak a word, he just silently watched as he sipped more of his drink.

"P-please, more, my lady.”

LeBlanc grabbed the cup and filled it again. "Show me your fingers, Casséaile."

Kayle raised her hands without hesitation. The slave’s fingers did have some cuts on them though thankfully none of them had gotten infected from the labor.

"Tell me, how many fingers do you have?" The matron asked, smiling at the slave.

"Ten," Kayle answered quickly. "I have ten fingers, my lady."

"You're a smart slave, Casséaile." LeBlanc laughed. "I love to reward intelligent slaves." The lips increased the lengthening. "Choose a finger."

A shiver chilled Kayle's bones. She hid her hands between her paralyzed thighs, too startled to even think that was a bad idea Kayle had been nice, obeyed, served, she was loyal, her owner also had said: she was a good slave; why should she choose a finger?

"My Lady...P-please...I have not done anything, please," Kayle begged, her lips were trembling at the thought that LeBlanc might remove one of her fingers. Her eyelids began to feel wet, despite being near the fireplace her body was shivering by the sautéed and anxiety. Jericho rolled his eyes, he expected that Emilia would punish the slave with more than a slap. LeBlanc burst out laughing and took Kayle firmly by her chin and raised her face.

"Choose a finger." The sorceress repeated. "Now."

She must obey, rather it would be worse. The angel thought and thought which would give. She raised her right arm and left forefinger in sight. She closed her gold eyes tightly, not wanting to watch the action, it was enough to feel it.

"Good choice, Casséaile ."

LeBlanc pulled her finger up the cup and dipped in the champagne. It was a surprise, a relieving surprise.


The clear liquid swirled between her nail and fell from the tip. She directed it to Kayle’s mouth when the amber eyes stressed the order. Among the flavors, the least predominant was the champagne, dirt, and something else.

"Does it taste good, Casséaile?"

"Yes, My Lady it does."

A finger was again dipped in the drink, and this time was LeBlanc's. When she pulled her finger out, a few drops fell on their little knees. LeBlanc's left index stretched out on the judicator’s lower lip, just waiting.

"Lick it."

Kayle’s lips distanced, the fingertip entered her mouth and her tongue was released inhibited. Tasted differently on her master's finger, it was a pleasant aftertaste, fully felt the fruit between the skin's taste; that was the most unpleasant part.

"And this time, Casséaile. How did it taste?"

"D-delicious, My Lady."

LeBlanc laughed for a moment, before soaking her finger, filling it again of the pleasant liquid. She swallowed, anxious, the finger danced between her lips, almost introducing itself to her mouth.

"Lick it!" The mage ordered.

Kayle repeated the action, covered in bitter delight.

"Continue, Casséaile, quench your hunger."

Her mistress’s ordered and she obeyed without hesitation. Quick and tiny kisses walked through the fingertip. Finishing with that, her tongue fully extended. Kayle licked the bottom of the finger, her fearful tongue rose to wet each part leaving no gap. Raising her hands and taking with them that of her master, got more benefit also tilting her head to both directions. From side to side; phalanx to phalanx; and pole to pole, she covered each fragment of someone else's finger. From the third phalanx, her tongue quietly climbed to the second and equally to the first to reach the tip to turn around in that area. Kayle tried to do her best, be as gentle and stimulating.

She parted her lips and introduced her finger into her mouth, she speculated suck it but a subtle voice stopped her.

"Casséaile, you're really hungry,” LeBlanc mused.

"Sorry, My Lady. P-please... forgive me." Kayle begged, still trembling.

“You have nothing to apologize about.”

Kayle gave a confused breath and then open her mouth, she took the finger to her lips and put it in her mouth. The Demacian began with a first lick completely surrounding the tip. A pleasant sensation arose when she took the finger out and inserted it again. Among the comings and goings to the outside, her teeth time to time appeared clumsy. Once in a while, descending from the right side, she took the air. Although Kayle could not handle well her breathing in certain situations, yet she could not stop for something as simple as that.

LeBlanc caught onto her strange breathing patterns and smirked, "Breath through your nose, Casséaile,” she instructed. After a few more minutes, LeBlanc pulled her finger away.

"That is enough, Casséaile." LeBlanc took her finger out of the girl's mouth, leaving a trickle of saliva with it. "Can I take your glass, Casséaile?"

"Y-Yes, mistress," Kayle licked her lower lip. "It is your champagne.”

The sorceress drank it quickly, set the cup aside, she suddenly approached Kayle and kissed her. Their mouths were connected, the foreign tongue cracked her lips to pass between them. The champagne, acid, was taken from the mouth of her champagnes, mixing between the two when tongues did a repetitive motion.

The liquid was spilled every time the lips parted and everything went for Kayle’s skin. With much effort came to swallow the wine while LeBlanc nibbled her lower lip, fiercely.

"It tastes great inside your mouth, Casséaile." She priced, licking the champagne dripping down the slaves. LeBlanc’s fingers traveled to her chest and squeezed her breast, causing her a spasm. LeBlanc smirked and turned to Swain, “Come here, my love, you may wish to join us.”

Jericho rose an eyebrow by her suggestion, he hesitated for a second then walked over to sit next to the matron. Kayle’s eyes widened by the suggestion, her heart was pressed frightened.

"My-y lady,” she muttered. "Please... No."

LeBlanc stopped her assault, now naked as her owner. A progressive humidity was content in her eyelids and meanwhile, the Noxian was traveling around its entrance.

"No what?" LeBlanc whispered. "Oh! Could it be that you've never done it with Jericho and I before?"

"N-no, My lady."

"You took twenty different men at the same time not that long ago, two should be no different," the sorceress replied, chuckling not long after.

“Lick my foot,” LeBlanc ordered, and Kayle immediately leaned down and began licking the top of her smooth foot. When LeBlanc raised her foot, the judicator even took the toe into her mouth and sucked it like it was a cock.

“Look at her,” the mage giggled.

However, Swain didn’t seem interested. He was pouring himself a generous glass of champagne and pointedly not watching their wingless borrowed slave. LeBlanc removed her foot from the angel and strode towards him, and Kayle followed her, crawling on her hands. “Stay,” LeBlanc commanded her.

Emilia went to the grand general and kissed him deeply. She slipped her hand between their bodies and rubbed his manhood until he was hard and ready. “Come here, Casséaile.”
Kayle crawled to them and assumed her mistress wanted her to use her mouth on Swain. Before she could reach for him LeBlanc swatted her. “Bad girl. I didn’t tell you to suck him. Just watch.”

As Kayle watched, LeBlanc expertly jerked off Jericho. She made sure that when he came, his semen landed on Kayle’s face. “Come on,” she said to him. “Don’t tell me you have never wanted to see it like this. A pretty slave on its knees and ready to please you?

“It just looks pathetic,” Swain replied. He sounded disgusted, and LeBlanc suspected his disgust wasn’t only for the slave.

LeBlanc moved away from the grand general and the slave girl by the collar, she forced the slave onto the bed, with wide palm threw Kayle backward, moving them closer. LeBlanc nibbled her neck, uphill tongue, reaching her hair and pulling the angel down to her womanhood.

“I want it to lick me and I want you to watch. Will you watch?” she asked, her voice lowered to a seductive whisper.

Swain didn’t answer, but he watched as she sprawled the Demacian, and he kept watching as she spread her legs to crawl between. LeBlanc watched him make sure he watched as Kayle licked her sex. She reached to caress her own breast, they felt so heavy they ached. She massaged them and thought about how good it would feel to have Swain sucking her nipples while Kayle ate her cunt, she could get a clone to do it for her. But she wasn’t so selfish to make this all about her. LeBlanc was not a selfish woman.

“You know what would make this even better?”

“What?” he asked. He was aroused despite himself.

“If you took it as the slave it is while Casséaile is licking me,” LeBlanc replied seductively.

Jericho groaned, and the mage knew he had reached the point where arousal outstrips moral reservation and Noxian pride. He came to them like a man under a trance and went to his knees behind Kayle. LeBlanc glanced down at the wingless slave, expecting to see fear or rebellion, but Kayle carried on like she had not heard about it, though the Noxian could tell the slave was bracing herself for discomfort.

“Is she dry?” LeBlanc asked curiously. Even if Kayle would be in pain she did not Swain to be.

Swain pushed his finger in the Demacians opening, she was dry as a bone. “Is this common?”

“Yes, Casséaile tends to be a dry well, use lube if you wish.”

Kayle spoke up for the first time that evening. Her voice was hoarse as if this was her first time and she was scared.

“Pardon?” LeBlanc asked. She was so surprised that Kayle had spoken, she hadn’t heard what she had actually said.

Kayle repeated the words, then added, “This would be my punishment for acting without order?”


“Indeed, it is, my dear,” The sorceress mocked her, but Kayle was done talking. She dipped her head and resumed licking her mistress like a starving woman.

Jericho reached for one of the drawers and pulled out the lube to use, he wouldn’t dare stick himself in a dry thing. Once his member and Kayle’s hole were slick and shiny with lubrication, he gripped her hips with his demonic arm and began to work his way into her sex. LeBlanc was almost impressed by the way Kayle carried on licking like there wasn’t something being shoved up her womanhood. Even though the angel's blood was now on the grand general's shaft, he at least waited until she adjusted to him, he was clearly nothing like his lover. But Jericho supposed the slave was used to it and had even experienced worse with Evaine.

Swain was panting like an animal. LeBlanc had never seen him fuck someone else. She wondered if he made those sounds and that same facial expression when they had sex. Kayle’s tongue was worming its way inside her, driving her closer to orgasm. The matron grabbed a handful of the judicator’s messy white hair and pulled her head back. “Stop for a moment. I want to watch your face while my lover drills your womanhood.”

Kayle tried her best to hide what she was feeling, but LeBlanc could see the shame and loathing in her gold eyes. There was something else, too, something quite unexpected. Kayle wasn’t crying like she usually did. Perhaps not consciously, but she wasn’t. Perhaps Swain didn’t ravish the Demacian and put her in pain like Emilia usually did, even after their dinner she still did rape the slave.
"You are really tight inside, slave." Her master said stroking her neck with his red demon hand. "You are surprisingly a useful slave."

Kayle yelped whenever her master deepens the thrusts, getting touch his deepest sensibilities. The angel couldn't feel anything else, though Swain let her adjust and seemed slightly more merciful than LeBlanc, he was still raping her.

“It’s been such a good little slave despite the disruption, we should reward it,” LeBlanc told Swain. “Play with its clit. Let’s see if we can all come together.” She tugged Kayle’s collar. “Get back to it.”

Kayle did end up feeling some sort of pleasure eventually, even if she didn’t cum, LeBlanc wasn’t sure if the angel could orgasm. But not until after she had given LeBlanc the best orgasm of her life. Swain’s thrusts grew sloppy until he grunted and released his seed into Kayle. The Matron was blissfully tired, but the day was young and Swain didn’t have to return to work until tomorrow. There were so many things they could do.

LeBlanc held her fingers to Kayle’s chin. The slave eyes looked bloodshot and her face was red and puffy, she must have been crying. All she has ever seen from the judicators were negative emotions, not once she ever has seen the Demacian smile.

"Smile for me, Casséaile," LeBlanc commanded gently.

The corners of Kayle’s lips stretched in a curve and LeBlanc smirked at her expression. LeBlanc stared into Kayle’s eyes, determined not to look away first. The slave contorted her lips into an awkward, toothy smile, but her cheeks were not so compromising. She could feel their reluctance to be molded falsely. Still, a warm smile crept on LeBlanc's face.

"You have a beautiful smile, Casséaile."

Chapter Text

It had been Three days since Kayle had her encounter with LeBlanc and Swain. She looked out the window of the master suite onto the dormant lawn and wondered where in Noxus she was. As of now, she was sitting beside the bed, only a few feet away from her tormentor. There was no other manor nearby, all there was were trees miles on, seems her chances of escape grow thinner each time the thought crosses her mind. Part of her mind, a part she hides carefully from the sorceress was still hers. The Demacian sighed to herself and continued to prepare her masters clothes, who was currently out of the manor. She heard soft cursing and turned to see what was LeBlanc’s troubles now.

LeBlanc was seated on the bed reading another book, her expression showed annoyance as her eyes scanned each page, "What a foolish man, all this trouble for a ring," She muttered.

Kayle watched her read the book and whisper to herself, but without permission knew she should not approach the woman. There were large bruises on her arms and one on her neck. They were the lessons that she would never forget. LeBlanc looked up, noticing the slave watch her. She smirked when she saw the slave watching in curiosity. "Do you enjoy reading, Casséaile?" She asked, slightly lowering the book to see the Demacian.

Kayle thought for a moment then answered, “I do, my lady.”

“I thought as much, truly a new world a good book can take one in, though the stupidity of some characters is truly astonishing,” LeBlanc laughed, then resumed to reading her book.

Kayle didn't speak, nor did she look into the cold eyes of the woman, the angel resumed to her work, she let her fingers move to the buttons and finished the job. Deftly she closed the shirt and smoothed it over the hanger. The Noxian wordlessly watched her closely as she placed the tie under the collar and tied it in a perfect Windsor knot. She smoothed the collar down over the tie and begun on the next one.

Emilia, who was silent, didn't move. She just stared at her wondering what life would have been like had the enslavement never occurred. She looked at the young woman kneeling on the floor. She was covered in scars, cuts, bruises, and bite marks. The brand on her breast could still be seen and looked like the swollen had gone down. Her body was nicely shaped despite the malnourishment, she had not missed that. Kayle’s voice was pleasant and cultured. She moved with grace and had manners that most young people had forgotten even when trained to use them, despite being crippled she managed to complete her task. LeBlanc stared down at her, feeling her gaze her gold eyes slowly came up to meet her. She had something else, a stubborn streak. The matron sighed, she was still not broken. obedient, yes, downtrodden, certainly, but hardly broken. She was still in control of her thoughts, though she had obeyed every order, she was aware she didn’t want any of it.

LeBlanc savagely gripped her white hair and pulled her face up to her. "We have some guest coming in a few, I expect you to be on your best behavior with the other slaves," the sorceress growled at her. "I will allow you to speak with some of the slaves; should their owners permit it," she released her hair as savagely as she'd gripped it. Kayle was sent sprawling a few feet away. "Use your time well, Casséaile." LeBlanc stepped over her and exited the room, never even looking back.

Kayle waited, when she heard her steps on the stairs, she let the silent tears fall. Slowly she pulled herself up, wondering if she would see any of her former comrades or what had become of them now.

She waited until a gargoyle came to take her back to the dungeons.
LeBlanc found Pierre, waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. "I want you to cut off the lights in the dungeon after the visit. No light is it to see until I tell you otherwise." She instructed her servant. "I want it deprived of all humanity after the visit! No contact of any kind! The last one it would receive would be the fate of the other slaves," she looked at the gargoyle. "And don’t feed it, the last thing I want it to be as well, is this understood?"

Pierre had worried eyes. "Aye, mistress…but haven’t you neglected Casséaile enough already?"

"I am kind to it at times and neglectful during others, it would be unwise to become predictable," the mage looked back at her door leading to the dungeon. "I want it weakened when I return Casséaile will break to my will."

The gargoyle also looked at the door, worried. "And if she does not?"

LeBlanc looked at the creature, her eyes blazing with malice. "Then I have one more method to try, that will surely drive it mad."

"You intend to use that on her?" Pierre admonished, “That last time you have done that Brisé became mindless.”

LeBlanc patted the servants head. "Casséaile will break." She promised. "Progress has been made. A few weeks without me will have it longing for my return, my touch…my mercy." She winked. "Deception and mind games is what I do, remember?"

"Aye, my lady." Pierre nodded. "But this one, she's not like anyone else. An immortal being is not so easily broken than a human.”

LeBlanc looked at the door once more. "It's a pity having to destroy so lovely a porcelain doll." She lamented. "Pity how far it will far."

Pierre watched his mistress of the house left; he looked back up at the door and muttered. "Pity the girl truly does not know what she’s in for." He went about his work for the day.

So on Saturday evening, LeBlanc, Swain, and Morgana sat together in silence in the downstairs drawing room, waiting for Vladimir and Sion to appear. Morgana gnawed on the nail of her thumb. She was always wary when confronted with Vladimir, she knew him well though still was wary of him. She had taken precautions of course, though this was only a visit. The dark angel had wondered what happened to her sister, the last time she saw Kayle was when she was being gang-raped by other Black Rose members, some she knew well. She just hoped it would be sufficient.

“Vladimir and Sion aren’t here, I wonder what makes their time,” she said to LeBlanc

“I wonder what’s taking them,” LeBlanc fretted. She looked at her pocket watch again.

“I assume the sun finally caught them,” Swain drawled. Of course, he knew the sun wasn’t a weakness to the vampire.

After a few more minutes they arrived. Vladimir came first with Fiora following him closely behind him. She wore a simple red dress and gloves, it seems her dark and pink hair grew slightly longer, her skin was sickly pale and dark bags were forming under her dead blue eyes. Fiora was pale as death. Jagged, grotesque cheekbones. Skeletal shoulders draped in her red dress, every skin that showed was covered in bite marks, Vladimir must have been feeding on her. Her body was like a map of pain. There were things carved into her skin besides bite marks. Symbols, words, the occasional burn mark here and there. They all expected for the vampire to kill her once he was finished with her, but Vladimir seemed strangely attached to the woman. Maybe it was the sentiment. After all, he always seemed obsessed with Fiora even before the fall of Demacia.

After Vladimir, Sion appeared, he bent under the door to go through, he looked as cold and menacing as usual, though most were shocked to learn he had not tortured or killed the Yordle he bought. Poppy quietly walked behind him, nothing had changed from her. Her body had been unscathed and there was not a single mark on her blue skin. In fact, she looked very well. She had clearly been fed, bathed, taken care of. and carried a small dagger with her, she wore a cold expression in her purple eyes that most assumed she had taken up Sion’s cold look.

They each greeted each other and sat down.

“How lovely it is to see you are all doing well,” Swain said. When Vladimir sat on the couch next to LeBlanc he introduced Fiora to her. She ran her fingers across the Demacian’s cheek, studying her face closely. “I must say, I thought this one would have croaked sooner under your ownership but I see there is still some will to live in her,” she said humorously.

Vladimir chuckled by her words and nodded in agreement, “Yes, well I wouldn’t say she has any will to live,” he pointed to the gloves she wore, “These gloves are to prevent her from ending her own life, I caught her trying to slit her own wrist one evening and decided to buy magic infused gloves that stopped her hand movements should she try to harm herself,” he explained casually as if this was a normal conservation.

“A fine choice indeed,” LeBlanc commented.

“Yes, I was amazed by how well they worked,” said the vampire, with an eager wink at Fiora. “That mage, Vera certainly has some interesting things to sell, I highly recommend her to you.”

“I am well aware of Vera,” the sorceress replied empathically. “Such a shame how the ages wear on her, though I heard she took up an apprentice.”

LeBlanc was positively beaming with her conservation with Vladimir. Morgana stifled a sigh. She wondered what hell Fiora must have suffered to get to where she was at. “Shall we start with some drinks?” Swain suggested.

“Fine,” said Sion, as he unceremoniously dropped himself into a chair, which surprisingly didn’t break from his weight. Poppy stood next to him quietly, she was rocking herself back and forth as she stood like a child through her mind was elsewhere.

LeBlanc nodded and turned to the servant. "Yes, make it quick, Rien. For we have much to discuss.”

Morgana could see a shiver of coldness pass across Jericho's face. He had always kept a calm posture even when he was feeling other emotions, though Morgana does believe in expressing one's emotion she always admired how calm the grand general was in any situation.Especially now. He hid it well.

Swain neighed his head and forced a smile. “Maybe we can take our drinks at the dinner table?”

“Oh yes,” Vladimir clapped his hands. “That will be perfect.”

The whole company moved into the dining room.

Trays of wine were already waiting for them there, thanks to the gargoyles.

“Where is Kayle?” Morgana asked as her eyes scanned the room to find her twin. “Do you not let her serve?”

“Casséaile is in the dungeons, as usual, I will only take it out when its training is completed,” LeBlanc answered, and she noticed Morgana’s immediate and keen interest.

The dark angel’s eyes grew wide. “Casséaile?”

“Kayle's new name, seems fitting for it,” she specified.

A wide smile spread across Vladimir's face. “I assume those wings up there are hers,” he said libidinously and pointed to the white angelic wings hanging on the wall above the fire.

The sorceress nodded and took a sip of her drink.

Morgana unexpectedly smiled too, a little relieved, it seemed. LeBlanc noticed behind those eyes were a pity for her sister.

Sion nodded, genuinely impressed then turned to the grand general. “How is the situation up in Demacia, sir?" he inquired, as the appetizers were served.

“Progressing in the right direction,” said Swain. “In fact, some Demacians are cooperating with the military, usually mages and other outcasts. In the meantime, I have a request for you, Sion.”

He meant an order, of course. But the fact he had taken the trouble to encapsulate it in a question meant Sion were still on his good side. The large man beamed when he leaned in and asked: “What is it?”

“I mean for you to go to one of the cities and see how the progress is with the civilians, only more elaborate. This is to be a regular thing. I need to keep an ear to the ground with the civilians. Know what their grievances are, what they are doing, feeling.” A slight smile crossed his face, and they all knew he was asking to intimate and kill some civilians. This was just a means for him to keep in absolute control. A reminder to the Demacians that they were being watched and checked upon. That no one could keep out of his grasp. “It will be much easier for me than if you were to see them, the raven can only do so much.”

“Of course,” said Sion. “I quite agree. Where can I be of service, sir?”

“A village in the east of Demacia, called ‘Custosalatum’,” Swain announced, and Morgana nearly choked on her drink, her stomach cringed and felt every muscle in her body freeze. She could feel tense up. That was the village she and her twin grew up in and Swain was looking to take it. Sad memories of her fight with Kayle and the death of their father were enough for her to leave, but it was where she grew up. “It’s a large village,” the grand general continued. “And it does have a certain… prestige about it.” He took another sip of his drink, the last words having a slightly sarcastic ring to them as they echoed against the high vaulted ceiling.

Morgana exchanged a quick look with LeBlanc, who shrugged by his words. Sion nodded eagerly, “I will do it, I need something excitedly to do.”

“Custosalatum? I heard of that village before, but where?” Vladimir asked himself, thinking his finger on his chin. He took a pastry from the plate and threw it over his head, Fiora quickly caught it and gobbled it up. “Wasn’t there a big fight in the sky some centuries ago?”

“Nothing more than a Demacians myth,” Morgana drawled. She looked at Fiora silently chewing the pastry, the angel shook her head disapprovingly which Vlad caught onto.

“What?” Vladimir repeated. “I haven’t made a mess, Morgana. It’s gone. She ate it. Didn’t you, my pet?" He pouted his lips and pulled at the chain, that was simply there for his pleasure. Fiora came up to the table. On her knees, she sat in between her master and LeBlanc. “Well done, my dear,” Vlad cooed. “But now it is time for me to feed,” Upon which he grabbed the grand duelist and pierced his fangs into her neck. Fiora gasped in pain and the vampire cackle with laughter. Fiora shrunk away and grasped the bite mark on her neck and held it to stop the bleeding.

LeBlanc chuckled and sipped her wine again as Vladimir licked his blood covered lips, there something almost sexual about it.“Goodness, gracious…” Morgana whispered, but LeBlanc recognized the blush that was spreading fast across her cheeks. She had often blushed like that whenever they had intercourse. Now the sorceress was looking at her from across the table, she realized the dark angel actually had quite a hard face.

“Vladimir, please,” Jericho reprimanded the vampire. “Not at the dinner table.”

Vladimir sucked his tongue back in and rolled his crimson eyes. With a sigh, he waved Fiora away. He turned to Morgana, “Why don’t you own any slaves? I would expect you to buy your sister after the war.”

Morgana shook her head, “Seems rather odd to own your twin would it not? Besides LeBlanc has been taking a liking to her.”

LeBlanc smiled libidinously, “I do, oh you should hear how Casséaile cries whenever it bleeds, truly a marvelous sight to behold,” she spoke with a lust filled tone.

“You should see Fiora, she is beautiful in red,” Vladimir said dreamingly.

Jericho glanced at Morgana. But the news of her sisters' torture and rape didn’t seem to affect her. Maybe she had already heard about it. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. The fact was she joined The Black Rose and remained, cold and completely unmoved by her twins suffering. Morgana found it hard looking at her twin like that. Quickly, she shifted her gaze and thought of something else.

“Now now children,” Swain spoke. “You both have lovely slaves. If you really want a slave, you should only have asked, Morgana. The cells are filled to the brim. I have new rebels coming in daily, from all over the empire.”

“Is that so, sir?” Morgana inquired.

“Yes, my dear, we’re hunting down the very last ones. I want them weeded out. And of course, there’s always traitors and Demacian with forged statuses and such.”

Morgana considered owning a slave for a second then shook her head at the thought, owning another being seems cruel. “I thank you for your offer sir, but I do not desire to own another.”

Swain nodded in understanding and resumed to focus on his drink.

LeBlanc narrowed her amber eyes. “Say, my dear. Maybe we could do something with that? There must be other people in Morgana’s situation. Noxians that have lost their slaves or are simply fed up with them… We could organize a swap on the day of the Bacchanalia. Allow them to do a trade or choose someone new entirely.”

“Oh yes!” said Sion. "That sounds like great fun! Not that I’d ever dream of giving you up, my blacksmith.” He patted Poppy on the top of her head. Poppy smiled by the compliment.

The Grand General nodded. “Excellent idea, Evaine.”

Morgana's chest rose and she exhaled, she wondered if LeBlanc planned of getting rid of Kayle, though she highly doubted it, Kayle needed more lessons before she became a hollow shell.

“And the ones that aren’t sold are thrown in the arena,” Vladimir suggested.

“Arena?” the dark angel frowned.

“Yes, the fight arena’s, slaves or prisoners of war are thrown into the fighting pits with their comrades and forced to fight to the death for the chance of freedom. At times monsters are released and watching them tear the fighters part never grows old, as does watching friends murder each other,” He explained enthusiastically.

“Well,” Morgana giggled nervously. “That certainly sounds like an interesting thing to watch.”

“I say we should throw all the unwanted slaves in the arena, it would make some use out of them,” LeBlanc agreed. “With Crownguard and that dragon girl in the pits, it would be a lovely sight to view.”

Swain thought it over for a moment. “Very well,” he said. “Any slave that is not bought by the end of the Bacchanalia will be thrown in the arena.”

“I can’t wait,” Vladimir chuckled and leaned down to kiss Fiora on the head, she sat there unresponsive and emotionless.

Morgana sighed inwardly, a sinking feeling in her stomach, though Kayle was the only thing on her mind.

“Oh that reminds, do any of you wish for your slaves to speak with the slave in the dungeons until you are ready to leave or will you pass?” LeBlanc asked, speaking to Sion and Vladimir.

Vladimir shook his head.

Poppy motioned her small blue hands for Sion to lean down so she can whisper in his ear. After he rose up, he nodded.

Kaye ached as shivers ran down her spine. She pulled herself from the ground and staggered to the corner of the cell, she saw something move. Hours past and she was certain something was watching her. She stared out the cell, deprived of human company. She stared into the darkness, again repeating the mantra, "Why do you stare...just drag me to hell already..." over and over. An hour after hour passed, she heard some movement upstairs and the faint voice of Morgana. Hatred is all that is left. Kayle buried them with her own hands, their tiny bodies into the soil, eyes closed. She kissed them before the dirt covered them and in that touch love left her body forever. The love Morgana claimed to have for her sister. Without it, all she can focus on is her hatred for her twin. Morgana joined the people that tormented her, she slept with her owner, she let them rape her. How could her sister still claim to love her, after all, she has done? "How could you have forsaken us! How could you leave me to this, sister…how could you?" she whispered bitterly.

The dungeon was cold and silent like the dead. Kayle had given up the mantra; she now crawled back and forth in the cell, whispering laws to herself, some she was forgetting. She was cold inside, and hungry. The silence became too much for her, she smashed her hands into the stone breaking her knuckles. Along thud pierced through the dungeons followed by a crack and blood was pooling down her hands moments later. Falling to the ground she lay there until Pierre pulled her away to clean her hands and bandage them. The gargoyles who came to assist him had been warned not to look at her or speak to her. Pierre didn't speak as he bound her wounded hands. He could see her soul was wounded as well, and he pitied her.

After an hour of pure silence, she heard someone of coming down the stairs and stopped by her cell, there was also a new figure behind the gargoyle.

"Slave, you have company." A gargoyle said to the wingless angel, before throwing Poppy into the cell and locking the door.


“Is that you Yord-I mean Poppy?" Kayle asked, rubbing her eyes, she couldn’t believe her eyes. There was no scratch on the Yordle and she was here, standing before her. "How are you? Sion hasn't hurt you has he?" Kayle asked as she directed the Yordle to sit next to her. Kayle was never fond of Yordles and was confused by their kind, but she needed to speak to one sane being if it had to be a Yordle then so be it.

"How much time do you think we have? And why are you here? And more importantly, how're you holding up?" Poppy asked, oblivious to Kayle's question.

"I….do not wish to speak of it...." The judicator said, not wishing to explain her horrifying experience with the sorceress. “How have you been?”

“I have been good when Sion first bought me I thought he was going to torture me, turns out he just wanted someone to take care of his weapons without trying to use it on him. I just do what he tells me and he has no other problem with me around, I think he’s just lonely,” Poppy explained, rubbing her hand on her head then smiled to cheer the angel up. “I mean whoever thought the ones that look like a monster turns out to be the most humane out of the all of them.”

Poppy’s smiles like she's happy right to her soul like there is no part of her that sadness dwells. She has no mannerisms that show the damage of any kind; she's perfection right down to her micro-expressions. The Yordle was completely oblivious to the suffering the angel had been through. Kayle would sell her soul just to be her for one day, to walk in those shoes instead of her own, assuming she could ever walk again. If that's envy then Kayle no longer care. She would rather be anywhere else than she was right now, anywhere else.

“I don’t want to be here,” Kayle mumbled, “Is it just Sion, my sister, LeBlanc, and Swain here?”

Poppy shook her head, she was amazed how Kayle knew her sister was here without even mentioning her. “No, Vladimir and Fiora are here too.”

“How is she?”

“Not too good, Vladimir has been using her as a food source... and probably more but I don’t want to think about it,” The Yordle replied in a pitiful tone for her comrades who suffer. “I’m surprised she hasn’t died yet, but Fiora is a strong woman.”
“Have you seen any other of our comrades?” The judicator inquired emotionlessly.

Poppy gulped by the question. If she'd rehearsed this conversation once, she'd rehearsed it a thousand times, It had to end. Now that Kayle was asking on the whereabouts of her comrades her mouth had gone dry and her heart was beating more forcefully than it usually did. Poppy felt the need to crack her knuckles, they were hurting her, then lowered it to her side. Could she do this? Then quickly she raised her hand and hesitated before her second thoughts got the better of her again.

“Yes…” she drawled slowly, “I saw that Lucian was given to Thresh and he was driven mad from the torture, he’s almost as much as a monster than his master. I know Garen was given to Darius and he is training Garen out of the city to prepare for the arena. I saw Sona the other day in the streets buying a weapon for Draven and she looked to be in good hands. I thought I saw Lux running in the streets one time but it looked too bruised and beaten to be her from what I could tell…” Poppy paused thinking further then shuddered from a thought. “Oh, Vayne lost her eye from that snake lady, but I thought Quinn had it bad too, I heard that spider woman killed Valor in front of her but I haven’t seen her yet,” The Yordle finished and only then noticed Kayle’s wings really were ripped from her.

“I see...” Kayle drawled sadly. Most of her comrades were being tortured and driven mad, seems they all had lost hope.

"Try not to worry, Kayle." Poppy said sympathetically, her eyes looking at the large door that separates the two Demacians from their captors. "Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but things will get better, I listened to my master and he hasn’t hurt me, have you tried obeying LeBlanc?"

Kayle narrowed her eyes at the Yordle, "You think I haven’t? Was it kindness for her to watch me suffer? Did it fill her up with cold malice? Did she get a buzz of power when I cried and begged for common human decency? Of course, I tried! I listened, I begged and all she did was hurt me. Am I angry? No. I'm bitter and that's worse. Angry is over fast, bitter lasts."

When Kayle triggered it is so very hard to have self-control, she was doing the actions, it is her behavior but it's as if all reason had been struck down and in that acceleration, in that momentum, nothing can be stopped. It's all fight or fights and it's so disappointingly primitive but Kayle can't override it unless she had a friend to help her, to guide, to release that emotional pressure so that she can take back the steering and make good choices. Without someone to love her, to switch her higher brain back on, Kayle was doomed.

“Sorry...she hurt me so much,” Kayle’s voice broke and she let out a sob.
Poppy put her hand delicately on the shoulder of her comrade as a token of her compassion, judging by LeBlanc’s sadistic nature and the current state the Judicator was in she must have been through hell.

“Don’t worry the rebellion will overthrow the empire and set us all free.”

"What?” Kayle stopped crying and looked at the Yordle. “That can’t be true,” the angel said, shocked at Poppy's notion that the rebellion could help them in any way.

"It is, Sylas has been leading the rebellion for their cruelty against the Demacians, they already retook some land and freeing more slaves."

"Sylas? Perhaps he's not as evil as he could be, but that doesn't mean that he's good, surely have you forgotten that his rebellion was the reason Noxus even begun to occupy the land." Kayle had difficulty hiding the frustration she was currently feeling. The angel had been with LeBlanc for two months, and already she resented the woman with every fiber in her being.

"It's not just that, Kayle. He's been succeeding with every attack with Ionia."

"He's... what?"

"Shocking, right? Just last week there was another slave auction and they ambushed it, I heard over a hundred Noxians were killed. That woman from Ionia with the dancing blades have been aiding their rebellion because she’s also saving her home from Noxus with Riven helping them. We actually have a chance at beating them!" Poppy chirped happily.

“Isn’t Irelia her name? Either way, I don’t trust that exile girl, she is Noxian herself…” Kayle said lightly.

"Of course she is! Who would know Noxus better than an Ex-Noxian herself? The rebellion is growing more and more. With Ionia by our side, we can beat this cruel empire! It's brilliant!"

The judicator wondered how long a person had to be in captivity before they go mad."Where did you hear about this?”

"Master talks a lot when he is frustrated, he already told me everything I needed to know and more. Which means that so long as he knows where we are, there's hope. There's also hope that he won't stop me from escaping, should I try." She said with some hope.

"Do you really believe that?"

"I really do, Kayle And I promise, the moment I get out of here, I will get the rebellion to come to save you, you shouldn’t have to suffer from LeBlanc anymore,” the Yordle smiled warmly.

Kayle hesitated for a moment, she didn’t know what she had left to suffer through, escaping was something she wanted to do but couldn’t. With this new information, she didn’t think a Yordle would bring some hope but she was still cautious.

"Consider yourself rescued, Kayle and please hang on," Poppy said, smiling warmly at the distressed angel.

"As charming as this is," a gargoyles voice purred as she opened the door to the cellar, causing the two Demacians to jump. "I'm going to have to interrupt. Come on Yordle. Your master awaits you.”

Kayle watched as Poppy left with the gargoyle and there she sat alone. Could she actually escape before LeBlanc breaks her?

Chapter Text

The darkness swirled around her skinny form on the floor of the cell, tendrils of inkling bleak reminders of her solitude. The silence echoing in her ears was the constant white noise that never shut up. Kayle’s head swam in the fire burning inside, the only smoldering embers of a time where there had been other presences with her, around her, in her. But now, the void had been slowly filled with a cold, howling storm of fear that refused to ever let up. Kayle was completely and utterly alone in her mind, body, soul, and most of all, entirely alone in the world.

“How many days has it been? Wait...was it weeks?”

The Judicator knew this was a new method LeBlanc was trying out, she has been neglected before but this left a different taste in her. After her conservation with the Yordle, she did wonder if she could be rescued or not. LeBlanc manor was guarded by gargoyles at night and it wouldn’t come as much of a surprise if she somehow put traps in the night, nothing came much of a surprise since her enslavement but everything hurt her. The blizzard removes the illusion of her eyes. With the sight of the abyss Kayle not alone, she was one of many in the world and the world is full of interesting things to see, to touch to feel, to keep her mind anchored in time and space. But as the white flakes whirl around her in an angry vortex the wingless angel is alone as she would be in the bleakness of space and cold, so cold. She reaches out with a gloved hand to guide her way but it is swallowed before it has gone even a few inches. To save her eyes from the blinding white she must narrow them until they are almost shut, and all the while the wind rages without end, only reducing its ferocity long enough to gather the strength for another attack. All her heart can do is beat warm blood around her veins in a hope that the storm will end, all her mind can do is plan the most logical path to warmth, safety and to something more tangible than light and snow. Snow. Winter. It wasn’t a season she found much comfort it, it was always too cold and made her fall ill when she was a child, she always felt trapped in the house whenever there was a snow storm. Would it ever have come much of a surprise to her that it was something Morgana loved? Of course not, the twins were as different as night and day, despite being raised by the same father and mother was never present in their lives, Morgana always seems different in every way.

The crisp, white snow has smothered summer. It appears somebody has laid a sparkling white sheet over what was once the outdoors of summer and put it to bed. However, there is beauty in the winter too. The way the snow is sprinkled down from a grey, clouded sky and floats to the ground with grace and elegance, so pure. But spring must eventually wake up and pull off the pale blanket, revealing all the beauty it holds and melting away the snowy days. Though the beauty of winter would be much better if it weren’t so cold for one to enjoy the white world. The air is frozen lace on a ten-year-old Kayle’s skin, delicate and cold, like winter waves on shallow sand. The sky is washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance. In some moments she was watching her boots over the frozen ground, perfect concrete slabs, flat and square, and in others transfixed to the interplay of cloud and sun above. For some reason, her mind conjures a stone mosaic made beautiful by the shards of a mirror and the twin want to keep her gold eyes heaven bound while her imagination makes them one thing. Only the slipping of her feet brings her attention earthward once more, the need to stay upright pulling her mind into the present.

“Oww…” Kayle groaned, shivering from the snow that made it through her winter clothes. She looked around to make sure no one saw her fall, though the sight of her twin holding back a laugh made her blush in embarrassment.

“ okay, Kayle?” Morgana asked in a humorous and attempted sympathetic tone, she moved through the heavy snow from across the front of their home and reached her hand out for her sister to grasp. Kayle frowned by her sister's ability to make it through the yard and not slip as she did. Nevertheless, she took her sister's hand and lifted herself up.

“I hate winter, it’s always cold,” Kayle complained, turning the attention to the season than her fall.

“What? There is so much more you can do in the snow than any other season, you just need to let loose a little, Kayle,” Morgana giggled stepping a few feet away from her sister and bending over to pick up some snow.

“Like what?”

"Well like...Snowball fight!" yells Morgana, and in that instant, Kayle felt another icy force hit her neck from behind. In seconds of the warning, the air is thick with snowballs so compacted that several feel solid and icy. The ones from the freshly fallen flakes burst open on impact, showering crystalline fragments that glint in the wintry light. Seconds later Kayle is behind her father's wagon, gloved hands in the snow, frantically making a stockpile to retaliate with. From the lull, in the action, she knows her twin is doing the same to replenish what she already used. "You're gonna lose, Kayle!" she taunts from behind a garden wall.

"Yeah, sister? Wanna bet?" comes the still out of breath voice of Kayle, chuckling. "Game on, sucker! You're going down!"

Kayle frowned the moment that memory crossed her mind. Little did she ever wish to think of her treasonous twin. Any positive feeling she had of her sister had been crushed. It's a lie that given enough pressure coal becomes diamonds and it's a lie that sisters love treated with disregard will self-repair. Each person Kayle offered her duty to her sister to be given love to left it to wither and die like a common garden weed. The angel hid behind her duty and reinvented herself, learning the keep her true feelings inside. The hurt lodged in that cold heart like a slow acting poison and before long she became a “slave” destined for a life in torture and sorrow. She hated her sister more than anything in the world now, only LeBlanc could match that hatred but she still hated Morgana. It burst forth in her speech, her actions, her attitude. She got close to people just to hurt them, power at last. Nothing pleased her more than to one day judge her sister for her cruelty and deliver her punishment. It was more than cruelty, it was sadistic pleasure she got out of her twin being chained and given to another, a pleasure that seemed unnatural, like the pleasure she received when LeBlanc stopped her from harming herself…

“You will learn to love her...” the voice of Pierre echoed through her head. The thought of her loving the cruel sorceress was a thought that could not form in her head, it was impossible for her to love the person that caused her so much harm. Kayle had only been under her ownership for two months and she had thought of suicide on multiple occasion. How was it possible for every rape, every cut, every bruise, every pain that was inflicted on her possibly become love? It seemed to be an emotion that humans carry, but Kayle was not human.

“Love,” she said out loud, “What is love? What is the idea of loving someone that has caused another so much pain?” Kayle asked herself, staring at the ceiling.

Love isn't a throwaway emotion, something to invoke on a whim. It isn't transitory like lust or something to regret like anger. When love is allowed to permeate every action, influence every thought, guide every deed, it leads to an inner peace not attainable any other way. It is the light in every dark night, shining brightly into each recess of the mind, healing, igniting passions that would otherwise have died. Love leads the way to be who they were born to be, people who prize peace, dignity, and honor, people who find solutions that work for the many instead of the few. Love is what we must hold for one another, especially when tensions are high, for it is the trapdoor in the prison wall, the only one.

That certainly was not what she felt for the Noxian. Hatred, disgust, vengeful, and grief was all she felt when the thought of the sorceress crossed her mind. How could it be possible for such evil to be at her mercy? LeBlanc was like darkness to the Demacian, something to be feared and hated. The Matron was a deranged woman, an evil woman that found pleasure in the most deprived of things. The evil dark, not the noble dark, will come at Kayle through deception. Morgana had thought Kayle would be evil like the sorceress but that is simply not true. Long had Kayle held her inner pain to be the fault of others, caused by others. Never once had she looked into the mirror of her own soul and asked what different choices she could make, not for her own sake, but for the sake of others. In each moment she made only choices for herself and surrendered to whatever fear came her way - as cowards do. Were Kayle in a war she'd be the judge, jury, and executioner of a traitor, crying, "What else could I have done?" Should her choice be a splinter in her own finger for all eternity or to burn the world, the angel would see it as no choice at all... "obviously" she would burn the world. That is why her father always said the worst of traits is cowardice, for, over a lifetime, one born will all potential to be good and kind will be nothing but a source of rot in humanity. All was just, this was justice, not cowardice.

“Whoever told you life was fair?” Morgana’s voice echoed.

Life was not fair, of course, it was not, that is why there are laws for others to follow. Life could be fair that one if one chooses to be fair and Kayle was always fair- so so she believed.

Kayle breathed deeply to herself and stared into the darkness. Blackness came with such completeness it obliterated the memory of the day that had just been. With the thick cloud above no relief came from either the moon or stars. This was not the prison to stop anything ever becoming darker than twilight. It was the kind of blackness that could throw a mind into free-fall if only one more sense were to be removed.

Kayle had always wondered by the fear of darkness carried into her immortal life, she couldn’t think of how something as simple as darkness shakes her to her very core. She couldn’t even remember where that fear came from, when she was ten years old she had no problem with the dark. She had no problem sleeping in the dark, then one day the thought of darkness caused her to have a panic attack and she suddenly could not sleep in her own bedroom. Kayle had begun to sleep in the other rooms and always slept near the candle. Fear is shackled, fear is a knife in the gut slowly twisted, fear is a constant hammer on the head. Yet fear also evaporates like water under an early summer sun. When fear comes to walk with confidence right past because like the ghosts of children's nightmares, fear is an illusion. But why did she still have this fear? Every suggestion seemed unreal to her, she could not think of where the sudden fear of the dark originated from.

“One day I was sleeping in my sister asked me something...I answered….and...” Kayle trailed off on her words, memories came at a strange point in her life through the memories could not give her answers.

There are times her head just doesn't work. Kayle tries so hard to focus and it's like trying to run through water. Her brain fogs up and thoughts go nowhere at all. Sometimes the judicator thinks its natures anesthesia, anything to numb the pain, to wipe out the trauma. Trauma? Fear, trauma, Kayle had studied the effects that trauma leaves a fearful and paranoid mind in one, but trauma is a deeply distressing or disturbing experience that leaves effects in one's mind. Kayle could not remember what caused it, she knew it was there but maybe she didn’t want to know what caused it. Maybe she wanted to forget...

Then there are the times of clarity, sudden moments when she can see every detail and feel every feeling of being swallowed whole in the blackness that scarred her very soul. Then all of a sudden the idea of darkness became a trigger for her. When she tried to escape the manor the sight of darkness stopped her attempt and she saw a hand reaching out to….

“No! I can’t think of it!”

At the start, she hoped it was a process to wipe out the bad memories, to stop her reliving them to well-meaning askers. Now kayle knows it's not so simple. It provides some protection, but the price is the flashbacks and the times of confusion; the stronger the blocks become the more intense the flashbacks are - as if the neurons are fighting for their lives, anything not to wither away. Yet, as her father said to her one day when she told him she was scared of the dark, "There will be a future, there will be a future." And so that keeps Kayle living, breathing, fighting. walk, each day another step onward, always hoping to arrive in that future, in a meadow for our souls, at peace.

Now it seems that peace will never come, look where she was now. No longer is the door open, no bright light comes from the hallway. No handle, no way out. Four concrete walls, a cold floor, darkness that keep her company, her mind - this “home” is a prison cell by another name. A dirty gown covers her body, her lower body that is unresponsive, fabric distressed by so much wear yet still rough. There is nothing to hold her mind or attention. Outside this room could be anything, anyone. There is nothing even to mark time. Would someone come in five minutes or five hours? Would Kayle know the difference? The panic is no less than with the straps, trapped is trapped.

Disembodied eyes peep through the bars of the cell she could still make out with her vision, a mean rectangle of metal in the flat iron door. She asks to be let out. No response. Kayle try to reason with them, show how sane she was. Nothing was there. The anxiety that was being kept at bay begins to win. Her voice gets higher, but she was not just terrified, she was angry too. Kayle hit the door, a bar, what a mistake. More of that and her hands will break again. Kayle swallows the rising bile and laid back on the cold hard floor, feeling the cold floor right through it. No noise. No movement. Only a complete display of passivity will get her out. Time to meditate. Time to bury her screams in her bones, shut her eyes, empty her head. The only way out is inhuman levels of self-control and a “professional” demeanor. What else was there to do?

At first, there was quietness. A hazy dimness upon the skylines of Kayle’s brain. That is where she continued everything, in her thoughts. That was as of not long ago. Kayle could feel the hard difficult knot in the back of her throat as the tears shaped. Gradually her breathing sacred itself and a little however serious torment struck the top nerve in her mind. Before the Demacian realized it there was yelling, they were hers, yet they appeared to be so far off. Tears marked her face. Nothing made sense to her anymore, everything was so gloomy. Kayle couldn't recollect the briefest of minutes, all she saw was her very own ridiculous clench hand, her tear recolored shirt. Kayle even perceived her very own voice rehashing, "I can't tolerate it any longer."

The angels remaining thread of strength frayed before breaking completely, sending her plummeting over the edge and into the darkness. Hysterical sobs shook her thin frame, threatening to tear her apart from the inside. She fought to reclaim control over her body, shocked by the sounds escaping from deep within her chest. As Kayle cried her base lip shuddered, equivalent to a child pushed past perseverance. Her eyes progressed toward becoming ice sheet blue under the sheen of water, consistent, yet enabling the tears to stream immediately. At that time, in observing her own appearance she comprehended the profundity of torment that had been sitting beneath her skin. Red-hot tears ran down her face, each one carving furrows on the tender flesh that still had bruises and scars, scars that cover her once-beautiful face. Tears running down my face, like the water flowing through the drains like rubbing salt into her open wounds.

To say she was sad would be an understatement. "Sad" sounds so childish, like something flimsy, something one should be able to cast off with a happy reflection or the smile of a loved one. But "sad" is nothing of the sort. It sits inside like the germ seed of depression, just waiting for the right conditions to grow, to send out roots to choke the hope out of her heart. It is the trough in which Kayle struggle to return to the peak, always afraid that this time the rungs will be too slippery, too far apart or simply not there at all. This was depression. Crying had always been a healthy release, but for Kayle, it was a habit now. The blue feeling washed in like an unwanted wave, knocking her soul flat. Then what? Was she supposed to construct them again? Pick herself up and wait to be crushed over again? She sat. No more happiness, no more life. She sat and stared out of the darkness, more tears, no surprise there. She let them fall, not raising a hand to stop them. They splashed down onto the couch in a rain-like pattern and soaked in leaving dark splotches on the floor that blended well with everything else. There was more where that came from, what percentage of water was she anyway? Less than a cucumber but certainly enough to cry for hours. And what then? Then she'd drink another glass of water and start all over again. Assuming she will ever be feed again.

When she was first being neglected she was hungry, bitterly hungry. Then after a couple of days the hunger went away, Kayle felt weak, it became difficult to move, but the hunger pangs weren't there. Then one by one, she got skinnier each day and she was exhausted the hunger returned with vengeance. It was the most terrible pain, constant, grinding. That's when Kayle began to look more skeletal with each passing day and Kayle began to lick the ground. Anything to alleviate the torture of the starvation. Most mortals would have died by now, but Kayle would be left to endure more of the pain even if her stomach acid digested her organs. Like all forms of pain, starvation is suffering locked into one person, just a hint of their anguish transmitted by their eyes and weary movements. There is nothing kind about withering away until taken by an opportunistic disease, it is simply violence slowed down to the pace of the psychopath, cruelty of non-action by those who hoard surplus for the sake of saving money instead of lives.

“So...hungry…” Kayle groaned, the starvation became unbearable, she had no clue how long she was trapped in the cell for but she knew she was not going to be feed. The only two times she was feed was when she ate her own wings and the one-time LeBlanc decided to be kind. When would she leave this hell? The darkness stared at her with such intimidating eyes, she must think of something else.

“Can I play doctor for five minutes?” she asked herself and laughed a little. Play doctor? Funny.

Tic Tic Tic

Kayle’s gold eyes scanned the room. Nothing. She listened for the sound but it came from all directions, she couldn’t sense movement but she felt something crawling under her skin. Something aches and made sounds inside her skin, she felt the things move under her skin, digging its way in her sinew, almost ticklish but certainly ached.

“ I should cut myself open and let the air out for the thing…”

Kayle would rock back and forth, all the while banging her hands rhythmically on her lap. If she were disturbed in her routine she would begin to bang her head and cry out. Eventually, when no talk could calm her down, only this bug under her skin. A parasite in her body. More rocking, more banging. Her gold eyes scan her pale skin closely, watching the skin move on its own.

“Three bugs and my floors are burning down... I can't find a window.”

Kayle leaned her right wrist forward only a few inches away from her mouth, she saw the bug crawl once more and it was more than enough to sink her teeth into her wrist. The angel sinks her teeth in deeper until the fragile skin breaks, the metallic taste of her blood filled her mouth and through the ever so present pain of something as dull as her teeth did not stop her from biting harder. Kayle pulled her teeth back ripping the flesh from her wrist, the strikes radiating pain in a way that shatters her brain - or at least that's what it feels like. She lies so still, breathing shallow.

“Where is the bug?” The Demacian asked herself.

Where there had been smooth skin was torn muscle and blood, as raw as any carcass at the butchers. The Sinew was oozing blood and seeped from each string of muscles that she tore. There was no bug under her skin, there was food. Kayle had already eaten her own flesh before and it seemed to be the only food she ate.

“Tearing myself apart from the things that make me hurt! Ahhaha!” Kayle suddenly doubled herself up and burst into a loud harsh cackle of laughter.

The judicator bent her hand by at her wrist and tore another piece of flesh, her teeth instantly hit the bone and she would eat like food was going out of style. The white-haired angel crammed it in thick and fast, consuming a lump of meat like it was her last meal. The sinew was too thin to chew with her mouth closed, not that she was concerned. Blood slid down her arm and soaked the cloth material of her rags, but yet, even though pain fluctuated on her face, the defiant stance and angry crease through her forehead indicated she wasn't about to stop. The Demacian continued to chew and bite until she became dizzy.

Kayle’s brain is an extinguished fire. Once it burnt bright and she knew of happiness and light; she could see a future... Now her mind is dark, subsisting on the burnt tinder of who the Judicator was. In these ashes, there is nothing to even renew a spark. All Kayle can do is huddle at this moment, live from heartbeat to heartbeat. She feels like the world isn't really there at all like it was stolen and replaced with something empty, mythical, fake. It makes sense in a weird way, the real world gave the angel feelings of joy. She felt connected to it, part of it. But either it was taken away or she was; every second of every minute of every day all she can do is float in the void. Kayle’s remaining thread of strength frayed before breaking completely, sending her plummeting over the edge and into the darkness. Hysterical sobs shook her thin frame, threatening to tear her apart from the inside. She fought to reclaim control over her body, shocked by the sounds escaping from deep within her chest. Then she laughed, laughing that tore her very soul apart, who was she? Where was she? What was she doing here?

Kayle lifted her other hand and harshly slapped herself across the face. She knew insanity was finally reaching her.


LeBlanc sat in the library, reading a spell book, her eyes scanning the pages like she was in trance. The sorceress already knew most of these spells though she could not help herself but repeat them in her mind again. There were always weird spells that she always found in the books, like one spell that carved words into a wall, in what situation would that be necessary? LeBlanc shook her head and resumed reading. She wondered what has become of Kayle since she locked her in the dungeons for nearly three weeks, by now she must be broken.

Not too far away Pierre was arranging the book in alphabetical order and by each section. She ordered him to go check on the slave, he bowed respectfully and headed to the door.

LeBlanc continues to read the section of the book on mind control, she had considered using it on the slaved from time to time though she prefers them to change on their own then through spells, while she did believe in casting illusion it was always an assuming sight to see slaves lose themselves in insanity. LeBlanc read over the spell and found a quote underneath the text.

"The subconscious mind, our magical land of dreams, has been missing the memo about negation in speech and written language. What the conscious mind reads as white, the subconscious receives as black and vice versa when negation is used, and so the carousel of confusion continues. If you want true intelligence, talk to your subconscious and that of others with positive phrasing and positive metaphors and watch your intelligence climb to new heights; watch the shackles of fear break; grow the paws of the lion you were born to be; learn to roar or break the lion and become its tamers.”

LeBlanc’s mind paused when she read that quote, taming one's mind is another form of brainwashing. She had brainwashed all her slaves into believing whatever she said was the truth, if she said the war was peace then they would believe it, if she said the sky was red, they would believe it. No matter how much the slave would believe she is free she will change, LeBlanc will change the thoughts and beliefs of Casséaile, but first one must learn its name.

LeBlanc heard the sound of a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called out.

Pierre walked in silently, looking confused and conflicted, mostly horrified. LeBlanc set the book down and turned her full attention to the gargoyle.

"Pierre." She greeted, pleased with his arrival. "How is Casséaile? "

"She...bad...just bad..." the gargoyle stuttered, rubbing his hand on his horn, he seemed overwhelmed.

"How bad?" The sorceress asked with not much of a concern for the slave's wellbeing.

“Unexpected sort of bad,” he said. "It was...nothing that I ever have seen a slave do, my lady."

LeBlanc nodded in understanding. "I should get her dinner," Pierre said with some concern.

LeBlanc waved him off. "No, not tonight, tonight she will feast only on me and my presences."

"Mistress," Pierre protested. "You should see what she has done to herself in the dungeons…"

"She will not die even if she goes a year without food, there is no concern here." The matron said smoothing her purple hair. "Tonight she will welcome me, and feed only on my being with her." She began to walk towards the door.

"I hope you know what you are doing, mistress," Pierre called as he turned to return to his duty.

LeBlanc walked down to the dungeons and snapped her fingers to instantly light the torches, she walked to the cell, looked in and found Kayle laying on the floor, her right arm had gashed wounds open and the raw sinew completely exposed her bones, there was dry blood on her mouth and bits of meat in her teeth. She was dressed in her rags that now had new blood stains and turned when she heard the sound. LeBlanc watched as the angel crawled toward her. A few feet from her she fell to the floor again, giggling slightly. "Mistress." She moaned softly.

"Casséaile." LeBlanc greeted her with warmth. She smirked, the Demacian was going insane. Good. She opened the cell and stepped inside."Come greet me."

Kayle crawled again, on shaky arms she moved toward her owner. When she came before her she slowly slid her hands around LeBlanc’s right leg. "Welcome home." She began to cry.

LeBlanc bent down and took the slave in her arms, held her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Don't leave me again," Kayle begged. Her voice muffled in her cape.

“I would never dream of it," LeBlanc whispered. She smiled and cupped the judicators chin. "Have you missed me, Casséaile?"

"Yes." She answered.

LeBlanc bent slightly and lifted her chin, her face inches from Kayles. "Show me."

Kayle kissed her respectfully, it was a kiss that was soft and loving.

LeBlanc frowned when she realized that Kayle was only desperate for human contact, she still wasn’t broken. Desperate, yes but not fully broken.

“What were you doing with your arm?” She asked softly.

Kayle’s dead gold eyes gazed up and gave LeBlanc a creepy and child-like smile, she whispered like she was lost in a dream.


Chapter Text


Pourri over the years had become an excellent cook; her pride was in making soufflé . As this was on occasion and she knew her mistress would be hungry for sure she created a toast soufflé for the Mistress’s pleasure. She had freshly squeezed fruit juice as well as chilled compote, and sausages browned to perfection. She placed the rolling cart into the other gargoyle and sent it up while she took the stairs.


LeBlanc rose with the dawn, Swain had left earlier for an emergency meeting, she ordered for Casséaile to be in the room and moments later the slave came crawling in, looking as filthy and mutilated as usual. "Tell me how you injured your right arms?"


“What?” Kayle asked like she had been awakened from a long dream.


"How did this happen?" LeBlanc raised her mutilated arm.


"I was starving and felt lost...I thought I saw a bug under my skin, so I decided to take a bite." She sighed.


The sorceress clucked her tongue at her. "Shame on you."


Kayle hung her head. "Will you punish me?"


LeBlanc unwound the bandages and inspected the arm that was showing signs of healing. The meat had grown back thanks to the potion but due to the slave's malnourishment, the process had taken longer than expected. Kayle’s sinew had grown back but the skin was still gone. "No, Casséaile, I should think these fine scars will be punishment enough." She pulled on hand up and kissed the skinless arm.


Kayle rested head against her owner's breast. "Don't leave me alone again." She pleaded quietly.


"I have no intentions of leaving you to your own devices again," LeBlanc admitted. Her hands roamed freely over the angel. "However I am pleased that you welcomed me back so…warmly."

Kayle looked vacantly away. "I hate you."


"Yes?" The Noxian asked.


"Yes." She sighed. "But I would rather be with you than be alone, my lady."


Her hand stroked Kayle’s cheek. "You understand now, that I am your mistress and it's only my will that gives you the freedom to be?"


"Yes." She sighed.


"What else do you understand?" LeBlanc rested her chin on her shoulder again.


"I understand that you are a  monster." Kayle closed her eyes, not caring how the mage reacted.


LeBlanc’s amber eyes popped open and she turned to glare down at the slave, then suddenly she began to chuckle. "Truer words were never spoken." She pulled her even closer. "Oh my Casséaile," she crooned. "I have been a real monster whilst away from your good influence."


"I'm sure." She sighed.


The Matron stroked her like a cat. "I'm just evil through and through, Casséaile, my darling Casséaile ."


"Master once said you were the most charming woman when you wanted to be." The girl said sadly.


"Ah but he and I had but that one meal together," lamented the sorceress. "Imagine how I could have charmed him into destroying all of Demacia had he not known who I was."


Kayle shook her head that was a disturbing thought if LeBlanc had successfully controlled the grand general. Her distinct shiver was noted by the smiling Noxian.


"Ah, my slave," she crooned as her hands move over the Demacian with authority. "You have something few other's that your species possess…honesty."


The young woman looked up at her, questioningly. "How's that?"


LeBlanc studied her face, disturbingly. "You speak your mind. Tell me, sweet child, how often were you spanked as a little human girl?"


"Never." She said quietly.


"Your sister had received some discipline for talking with refugees when she was a girl." She mused. "Deservedly so."

Kayle's eyes narrowed. "If you know anything about my home life at all, then you're aware my mother has never been present in my life. Since I was a child in fact….behaving wasn't a request, it was a requirement. I was never spanked because I didn't warrant one."


LeBlanc viciously took her chin into her hands. "Every child needs a spanking now and then, Casséaile." Her voice was filled with a strange rage and excitement. "I think it's something that you need to experience, and I shall be only too happy to administer to you."


The Judicator blinked. "I'd prefer not."


LeBlanc turned the slave to face her body against her in the bed. "Persuade me to spare you."


"Go to the void, Emilia LeBlanc," she said quietly.


"When I go, I think I shall take you with for company," Emilia growled, as her hand held the angel pinned to her owners. "Kiss me, slave." She ordered.


Pourri came into her Mistress's quarters as the Matron was exiting her bed. She bowed to her mistress and received her salute. The dark moody woman took a seat and the gargoyle handed her a book. Kayle was trying to adjust her tight collar as she followed LeBlanc.


"Casséaile" Pourri greeted her curtly.


"Um...Pourri" she returned the curtness, only then remembering the servant's name.


"Juice, Casséaile," LeBlanc ordered from behind her book. The other servants handed a full glass to the girl who took it to the sorceress and held it out for her. She looked up at her and accepted the glass. She looked back at her book.


“What smells so good?"


" Soufflé , Mistress." The woman set the table and stood by.


"Well, how nice," LeBlanc looked at her wingless slave. "Do you like Soufflé , Casséaile ?"


"I've never had it," Kayle said honestly turning to the gargoyle. "It does smell wonderful."



"I'm sure you'll enjoy it, Casséaile ." Pourri smiled briefly.


"You may go, Casséaile will see to me."


The gargoyle swallowed hard, knowing the wingless slave would gladly kill her mistress if she could. "Yes, my lady." She gave a warning look to the angel and prayed she'd heed.


LeBlanc ordered for the slave to sit with her and watched as Kayle lifted herself up with her arms and took her seat. "Serve." She said quietly. The sorceress watched as she cut into the soufflé with ease and served a generous portion on LeBlanc’s plate. Kayle was graceful, even as hungry as she clearly was. Her hands moved with the king of refinement and polish that only a woman raised to be poised seemed to possess. A quality LeBlanc found lacking in many Demacian women.


"Thank you, my dear." She took a fork full and savored it, "Wine if you don't mind." LeBlanc knew she was preventing the slave from eating, but wanted to see how far she could push her. Kayle poured her wine and served it to her quietly. Then the white-haired angel sat in her seat with her hands in her lap. LeBlanc studied her and sighed. “I assume your father taught you table manners?"


"Yes." She said quietly.


"Eat," LeBlanc commanded.


Kayle ate lightly, being without food for the three weeks (which was a year in the dungeons) she'd left her, had lessened her ability to eat large meals. The meal was light enough that it didn't sit heavy on her shrunken stomach.


The mage stood before her mirror, unhappy with the way her cloak came out. "Casséaile, my cloak" she said in exasperation.


She moved to sit in front of her and adjusted the cloak and smoothed the fabric. "Are you leaving?"


"Black Rose business," the Matron said softly, watching her face. She noted the grimace, and wanted to toy with her, but found instead that she sighed. "I'll be back for dinner."


Kayle looked up at her.


LeBlanc reached out to stroke her cheek. "Would you like to read the book?" She offered.

"Yes, please."


Swiftly she handed it to the slave. "Pierre!" She called out and the gargoyle that Kayle had not seen for some time came in from the hall. " Casséaile is to have a light lunch, something that will not sit heavy. I shall be home for dinner. Roast lamb is to my liking." Turning to the girl she inquired. "Do you like roast lamb?"


"I don’t eat meat, it was never something I took a liking to," Kayle admitted.


LeBlanc turned to Pierre. "I leave the details up to you, my good servants, be sure to inform Pourri." She looked back at the slave, she waved the servants out of the room. "Come here." Her voice rasped when Kayle was within arm's length LeBlanc reached roughly for her and pulled her into her arms. "I think I shall give that idea of spanking your sweet ass a great deal of thought this day. Pray that it does not hamper my business sense." LeBlanc kissed her quickly and released her.


Kayle waited until she was sure the woman was gone and then spit into a napkin the foul taste of her owner. "Noxian monster," she groaned.


Kayle was still reading the paper when Pierre appeared with a dress box. "Mistress sent this for you, Demacian. She instructs that you are to dress in this for dinner."


The box contained a soft lavender gown in sheer layers of gauze. Kayle moaned, "This is indecent!"


Pierre nodded sadly. "Orders are orders." He sighed forlornly. "I'm sorry."


The girl looked at the stone creature who lived life alongside the enemy of her people. "It's not your fault…it's not mine either." She pulled the dress from the box and under it was the undergarments the sorceress expected her to wear. "She's a twisted fuck! Yet she is merciful...I don't understand her."


"Don’t say such things, and if you don't want to find out just how twisted, you best be dressed in this…" He raised the gauzy gown. "And ready to please her."


"Has she ever beaten a slave to death?" She questioned, then seeing the look on Pierre's face she sighed. "You don't have to answer. I can see by your reaction she has." She headed for the room with the box. "Whatever Mistress wants Mistress gets."


Pierre clenched his stone eyes closed. "Oh that girl is treading on dangerous ground."

Kayle sat at the window; the last rays of the sun were slowly disappearing. She turned when she heard LeBlanc enter the room; she crawled a few steps toward her but was halted by her hand. LeBlanc looked at her in the window, the last fleeting light of day showing her body through the gauzy gown.


"Charming, perfectly charming," she stated as she moved closer. "Good evening, Casséaile."


"Mistress," Kayle gave her a curt courtesy.


"Do it proper," LeBlanc ordered sharply.


Kayle lowered her eyes and dropped down low, and stayed down the most she could.


"Better." The sorceress said and snapped her fingers for her to rise. "Shall we dine?"


"Did you have a good day?" The Judicator asked.


"Very good day," LeBlanc flicked her napkin and placed it on her lap.


"What poor widow did you put out, or was it an orphanage you closed down?" she asked with sarcasm.


"You are lucky I enjoy your wicked tongue, Casséaile." LeBlanc sipped the wine that Pourri was pouring as she flew a few feet above, making Kayle envious of her flying. "This is fine." She then returned her gaze on the girl. "And did you enjoy your book?"


Kayle folded her arms over her chest. "I see you fancy the horror genre."


"I noticed that myself." The sorceress smiled widely. "Pity you don’t, isn't it?"


“Don’t let me read that again." She said softly. "Please."


LeBlanc ignored the plea and cut into the slice of roast lamb on her plate. "You must try this; it's one of Pourri's specialties."


Afraid the meat would taste like sawdust she cut it into a very small piece. Kayle never liked meat but a beggar can't be a chooser. Slowly she ate being watched by the evil Noxian who was her owner. "It's very good." She said.


Emilia LeBlanc ate with a hearty appetite. "You look lovely." She commented.


"I look like a whore." Kayle corrected.


LeBlanc smirked and scoffed. "I have had many whores who didn't look nearly as accommodating or tempting as you."


The angel glared at her. "I hate you."


"Good." The mage said continuing to eat her meal. "I hope that means you intend to put up a fight when I take my pleasure from you tonight. I thought the dungeons had really broken you, you were even laughing."


"Go to hell." She shoved her plate and crawled away from the table.


LeBlanc put down her napkin and was behind the slave before she knew it. "Ready for sex so soon, Casséaile? I'd have thought you would have wanted at least an hour or so….but if your ready now.." Kayle turned and slapped her face with as much strength as she had left. The last thing she heard was the evil snarl that emulated from the sorceress as the flat of her hand sent the Demacian to the floor. Emilia stared down at the ghastly white face that was motionless beneath her. Kneeling she checked her face. She was only unconscious; the matron snapped her finger and lifted Kayle off the floor and laid her on the bed. She removed her own clothes and then Kayles and waited until she began to come to. LeBlanc was aroused and she was dry. This was going to hurt and that pleased her malevolent mood. Kayle’eyes opened and she gasped as she realized she was still alive and about to be yet again raped. She screamed out in pain as the sorceress slammed into her. She thrust the toy harder and harder into her at a sadistic fast pace. Kayle bit her lip to avoid screaming out, her insides were painfully clenched against the strap-on and the blood was sticking to the toy. When LeBlanc was nearly finished, she leaned forward placed her teeth onto the Judicators shoulder, down into the soft flesh went her teeth until she drew blood. Kayle laid bleeding and sobbing as she left the bed. LeBlanc came back with a riding crop and she fainted to avoid further pain.


LeBlanc looked at the girl who'd swooned in her bed with ferociousness. The blood on her shoulder and the old bruises on her arms were already proof of the Noxians power over her. Her face still held the mark of her hand. LeBlanc tossed the riding crop aside as she looked down at the girl. It had been nearly three months now since she had the slave. The Matron had seen women faint before, she'd seen grown men pass out after hours of torture. She'd seen what days of hunger and deprivation could do to the body and soul of a human being. Something about the girl's swoon was different; she lost all color and turned slightly blue. The idiot was trying to die. “Come now, even you know better than that. How dare you try to die," she tossed aside the riding crop. Moving to straddle Kayle she could hear the telltale sounds of something lodged in the narrow passage of the long and slender throat. "Fool," she muttered as she pulled her upright, placing her hands to the Demacians face and harshly slapped her, causing the girl to awaken. Kayle coughed and slightly choked on her own saliva.


"Slowly," LeBlanc's voice barked. "Breathe slower." Now hyperventilating, and in a panic, the girl grabbed her owners arm to steady herself. Her gold eyes moved to her amber ones, begging her to help her. "Casséaile," she softened her tone. "You're going to have to calm down and breath slowly, or you will surely faint again."


"Don't leave me," Having been so close to torture moments ago, she sobbed; "I don't want to be harmed any further."


LeBlanc realized she'd just handed her a powerful weapon to use against her. The sorceress understood what the fear of pain could do to ordinary humans, and she had used this weapon of fear before. Looking down at her, seeing the color slowly coming back to her face, her tear stained cheeks and the angel clinging to her; she supposed it would do no harm to delay the use of this powerful weapon. Moments ago LeBlanc had been ready to beat her senseless, yet now she was caressing her comfortingly. Her tears had spilled on her chest and she was still sobbing against her mistress. LeBlanc rolled her eyes, "Casséaile," her voice snapped like a whip, and Kayle looked at her. "I will not tolerate insolence!"


"You…hurt me....again," she said in a voice that was laced with disbelieve. "Why?"


LeBlanc blinked, had the girl finally lost her sense? She was more trouble than any of the other slaves. The mage looked down and gently brushed her white hair from her face. She had thought to suddenly say something kind and gentle to better influence her thoughts; that rankled her. The lesson must stay on track. LeBlanc needed to stay focus on the lesson, and instead pursued her lips and whispered in a threatening manner. "Because I can." The next instant she straddled Kayle and pinned her down to the bed. "Where were we?"


Kayle sobbed, it was a dry rasping sound and she felt her whole body shudder. "Why don't you just erase me?"


LeBlanc moved closer, stared down at her and snarled. "A memory wipe is not to be yours, Casséaile. Not for a long time to come."


The Judicators's hand went to her bruised face, "I hate you and I will until the day I die!"


Her anger and her hate fed the fires that burned in LeBlanc like a raging inferno, she was lucky to even say such a thing. 'Oh she will certainly regret these words, ' LeBlanc told herself. ‘Not yet, the last method will be soon but not yet.' The Matron now lowered herself, spreading her unwilling and paralyzed legs with ease. "Hate me, Casséaile," she said as her lips burned like coal over Kayle’s tender skin. "Hate me," her hands moved over her as her helpless body responded to her every touch. The girl beneath her surrendered her body to LeBlanc, knowing she was too weak to fight and too fearful of pain. It should have been a triumph, and she should have been rejoicing. She should have gloated and lord it over her. Miserable and lost Kayle looked up at LeBlanc with vacant eyes, and her response surprised herself perhaps more than it did the slave. LeBlanc tipped her face upward and kissed. Not the forceful, open-mouthed kisses she'd been forcing on her. Not kisses that were bathed in rage, but a gentle kiss. Her hands moved over her body with skillfulness and dexterity drawing a response Kayle had been denying her. LeBlanc was beginning her thrusts, her amber eyes met hers. She lifted one wilting arm, kissed her wrist then placed it to her shoulder. Kayle watched her like a wounded bird as she lifted the other wrist, kissing it as well before placing it to her other shoulder. LeBlanc shifted, pushing her hips deeper to hers. Lowering herself she now placed her right hand to the slaves hip, silently directing her to wrap her legs about her and give her even more movement. Silently Kayle complied as her thrusts became longer and more powerful.


"Your body betrays you, my slave," she murmured in her ear. "Your heart may hate me, but your body does not."


Kayle closed her eyes, 'It's not me, it's not me, it's not me.' She thought swiftly.


However, LeBlanc seemed to know her thoughts and she growled in her ear. "Never have I had anything as pure as you." Kayle arched, her body had a mind of its own, and she was now a prisoner to it more than to Emilia. LeBlanc buried her face in the wild mane of hair and was glad she could not see just how deeply she'd affected her. The sorceress held her closer as she gave vent to the heat that had built up in her loins. Moments later she spilled into her with such force she was afraid that she'd begun to bleed out.


Kayle mewled beneath her, a sound she'd never hoped to hear come from her. Turning to look at her, LeBlanc sought quickly to put her in her places. "That was very good…slave." She rolled off her, dangled her legs off the side of the bed and light up a cigar quickly. "Shall I ring for dessert?" Kayle rolled the other direction, this woman was hard to understand. she softly cried until sleep overcame her. The Matron could hear the sounds of sleep and her soft breathing. Carefully she left the bed and began to pace. While all the torture had been fun, Kayle seemed to have jumped in and out of insanity, she had to break her soon to rebuild her.



Snubbing out the cigar, LeBlanc lay on her side of the bed, mentally noting that the slave needed to earn the right to bath soon. Had she not choked, the mage would have given her the whipping of her life. "You really do need to be spanked," she said aloud quietly. "However that will have to wait…" Placing a possessive hand over her abdomen, she thought of what would be the worse thing she could do to Kayle. With that thought, she joined her in slumber.


Kayle awoke to the sounds of rain pelting the window; she turned to find the Noxian sleeping soundly, it was only then Kayle noticed she was chained to the bed. ’ Smart bitch,’ she thought.  In sleep, LeBlanc looked like an ordinary woman, with extraordinarily beautiful features, but just a woman… not the monster who made her life a living hell. Not the murderous fiend, who'd bought, raped and tortured her. Her months of slavery had taught her one thing, LeBlanc was capable of anything. She could be cruel one the moment and tender the next, and she could save her from pain. Yet in sleep, she looked like just a woman… beautiful, mature, and charming… the kind of woman men dreamed of coming to make their fantasies come true. Her short purple hair was fallen across her face, falling in deep waves. A double thick line of lashes covered the ends of her deep-set eyes. Her face was gorgeous, and her skin unblemished, and her bone structure was extraordinary. Truly a beautiful woman. Kayle could not forget LeBlanc was cruel, she knows the sorceress is trying to confuse her and her mind believes it.


Kayle remembered something tingling under her skin like what happened in the dungeons. Some little flutter within her shocked her, and Kayle sat bolt upright with a startled sound coming like a strangle in her throat but the chains stopped her movement. The movement was enough to awaken the woman who looked at the gasping girl with annoyed eyes. Was she about to faint again, LeBlanc watched her movement like nothing was happening. One hand went to her mutilated arm and her face held a knowing look. “The bug…”




“It was never there…”


"Of course it wasn’t," LeBlanc boasted confidently, smiling at the Demacian.


She looked at her, eyes begging and accusing. "You did this…"


The sorceress leaned back into the pillows, placing a hand over hers on her arm. "Even if I did influence your self-mutilation, would it matter?" Her fingers flexed over her right arm possessively. "The mind is an interesting little thing, almost like magic. You see things that are nonexistent, feel things that aren’t there and you will be anything to make it stop, truly a thing to ‘live’ for, eh my dear?"

"Its already too late," Kayle looked at the hand covering hers. "Its…gone..." tears fell freely.

“We’re so close now," LeBlanc crooned looking at her smugly. "Soon you will be perfect to break and rebuild," Her hand stayed over hers. "Until then…" a cruel gleam entered her amber eyes. "We still have your final lesson," The hand migrated up her arm, gripped her above the elbow and pulled her to LeBlanc. "It is early still, and there is a cold thunderstorm out there, Casséaile  … warm me." Kayle stifled the sob that was in her throat, her body was already being pinned once more to the bed.

Chapter Text

Hours later, when she'd satisfied herself, she had laid with the slave. LeBlanc ran her fingers to the little bruises that were appearing from where her touch had been too firm for her tender skin. The sorceress made her sit up and let her examine her bruised skin further. "I am so very pleased," she purred in a tone that could only be described as egotistical and overconfident. "Perhaps when I return from Argent Mountains in a few weeks I'll have a gift for you…would you like that, my dear?"

Kayle turned slightly. "Argent Mountains?"

"Many of my magic concerns are in Argent Mountains, but I plan to leave in some weeks though I’m not aware when," LeBlanc informed her without worry. Turning away, looking straight ahead, the girl prayed that none of her concerns dealt with any more sinister tortures of others. Her hand had abandoned the scars and was now gently massaging the angel's breast. She hated that LeBlanc knew only too well how to make a woman's body react and need her. Pulling her back against the mage, she bent toward Kayle’s neck and placed her lips to the pulsating vein just under her skin. She gave a startled gasp and LeBlanc chuckled softly as she began to let her lips wander up and down her throat. Kayle hated feeling helpless, she, even more, hated that the Matron could cause her to whimper like a lost kitten.

Emilia chuckled, and moved to rest her back again against the headboard. She skimmed the skin of her very lovely back with crooked fingers. LeBlanc’s hands ran over the pink scars of where the angel's wings were. She'd had women, experienced women, yet just sitting in the bed with the Judicator was far more satisfying experience than she'd ever hoped to find. "Your skin is as smooth as silk, soft as rose petals, and as delightful a vision as a painting." Kayle looked over her shoulder ever so slightly, making no comment of her own and keeping her lips firmly clamped together. LeBlanc raised her fingers to her cheek and jawline. "I almost regret having to scar your beautiful skin more."

"This is madness," she whispered. "Let me go now, please."

Moving forward, LeBlanc placed her cheek to Kayles. "No." Her hand moved again to her breast. "Ask again, and perhaps I'll extend your suffering," she threatened softly.

The Demacian sat on the bed obediently fastening the cuffs once more to her wrists. In the time she'd been wearing them she had become fairly adept at removing and replacing them. The ankle cuffs were already in place when she began with the wrist pain, and she ignored the fact that while LeBlanc dressed she watched her like a hawk. Kayle knew there was no escaping her watchful gaze and also that LeBlanc would know if she had not fastened the cuffs properly. She'd tried that trick once and been punished for it already. She would do whatever it took to avoid punishment at her hands.

"Don't forget this." LeBlanc teased as she twisted the collar around her throat and pulled her into a kiss. The Noxian pulled away and stood over her, having interrupted her own dressing; her dress was still undone. Her breathing was deepening, and she found herself aroused by the slave draped in scars and bruises. "An artist would envy me right now, Casséaile,” LeBlanc muttered looking at her. "Loosen the rags, and lean back on your elbows, invitingly."

Kayle would have loved to have told her to go to hell once more, would have loved to have spit in her eye. However now she had more important and pressing needs, at all costs she had to save her sanity. Her hand un-tucked the corner of the rags, it slipped down to her waist. Leaning back on her elbows she looked at her owner with yielding eyes and licked her lips to moisten them. LeBlanc groaned as she descended to her knees, her good hand moving the towel so she could look at her…all of her. "You are most assuredly a work of art, my dear… you may not be what the fools of this day describe as sexy, but you are most definitely a beautiful woman. One that will only increase in beauty as you do not age, just like your twin, you… you will outshine all the mortals…."

"Pretty words," Kayle remarked coolly.

The sorceress read a challenge in her beautiful gold eyes, unadorned and without the benefit of makeup, and still, they were the most beautiful thing she'd ever known. "Casséaile," she placed a hand to either side of her legs that were still draped, hanging off the bed. "In a battle of wills, I will win… I am older and stronger than you… I've survived many things even when I was mortal."

Raising one brow with a cocky expression on her face the Judicator responded unperturbedly. "I always felt that it was more a case of you two just waltzing about each other… it was only after my enslavement that you began to make mistakes…now why would that be, my lady?"

LeBlanc heard the chortle rise in her throat, her amber eyes narrowed to slits. "Believe me, my dear, I know exactly what I am doing, you will not have the mercy of a memory wipe so don’t pray for one." She smiled confidently. "Nothing you try will make a difference, Casséaile .”

"Overconfident," Kayle breathed composedly.

"If I didn't have business meetings to see to," she warned gently. "I'd show you just how… confident I can be." She rose from her kneeling position and continued to dress as she looked at the naked girl lounging lazily on the bed. "However business cannot wait." A frantic tapping at the door alerted the Matron that something unplanned was taking place. "Enter," she commanded.

Pierre rushed in and came to her side hurriedly, whispered something in the sorceress's ear. Emilia looked perturbed, and reaching down grabbed hold of the slave. "Come, Casséaile," she said brusquely. LeBlanc pulled her off the bed, she dragged her across the floor and shoved the slave into a closet. "We have uninvited guests," she informed her as he pulled a lever that released a hidden lock. What had looked like a wall, opened on a hidden hinge, and LeBlanc shoved the girl roughly into the hidden room. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to be good enough to stay out of sight." She took hold of a clip, fastened it to the rings on her cuff and hoisted her up to dangle from a hook that was fastened to the ceiling. The sorceress clipped her paralyzed feet and before Kayle could think to protest LeBlanc snapped her fingers and shoved a ball gag into her open mouth. LeBlanc made sure she was facing a wall that had an enchanted mirror, and the mage snapped her fingers and moments later a monitor-like screen appeared in the mirror. "So you don't miss a moment of the fun," LeBlanc crooned in her ear before giving her fanny a swat and exiting.

Kayle snapped out of whatever trance she had seemed to be in and began to struggle as she dangled. The monitor showed Morgana standing in the foyer of the house. The girl moaned and screamed into the gag. What was her twin doing there? Kayle was screaming as loud as she could but knew her sister would not bother to have her as she said before, though Kayle did not know why LeBlanc even hides her.

LeBlanc returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed she'd just yanked the girl off, calmly she dressed herself humming that same old song she'd hummed time and again maddeningly. LeBlanc looked up with interest as the gargoyle escorted the dark angel into the room "Ah, now what is this about, my dear?"

Morgana looked at the woman with interest but kept a calm composure. "Matron LeBlanc?"

"Yes?" Emilia said in an amiable tone. "What can I do for you?"

"I heard you were leaving to Argent Mountains in some weeks to come," the dark angel stated sounding as if she were being bothered about nothing. LeBlanc nodded. "Yes, that much is true… nothing of such should be of any concern…." She took a seat and looked at Morgana softly. "Yes, what of it?"

"You will be gone for some time and Kayle will be left alone...." The dark angel looked uncomfortable but spoke in a mature and calm manner. Her wings moved against the chains nervously but LeBlanc didn't notice or pay attention to it.

The sorceress pursed her lips into a long thin line. "I highly doubt that," she motioned the woman to sit next to her. "Casséaile will be with Jericho and the servants, I thought to have a clone stay with it when I was away but it needs to learn to miss me,” she explained. LeBlanc was confident, she knew exactly what she was doing but Morgana was still persistent. "I'm sure you would not mind if I ask for a small favor?” Morgana asked.

LeBlanc rose an eyebrow by her words, she asked softly, “And what would that be?”

Morgana wings moved ever so nervously against the chains, in the mirror Kayle could tell her sisters only does that when she is nervous.

“Can I borrow Kayle while you are away?”

LeBlanc was taken aback by her words, it was something she did not expect to hear from the dark angel. The sorceress tilted her head and softened the look on her face. “Why?” she simply asked.

Morgana shrugged as if the question wasn't important, “I don’t know myself if I am honest, but I wish to see her again.”

Kayle in the hidden room screamed into the gag, but deep down knew the room was most likely soundproof. Tears slid down her cheeks as she watched the two women seated on the bed look self-assured and poised. In the mirror, LeBlanc held her hand to chin to think something over.

“I’ll consider it, but next time, don’t come in unannounced.”

Morgana nodded and apologized for the incoming before leaving the room. She smiled warmly at the Matron and bowed in respect, her respectful and diligent posture was one LeBlanc respected from the fallen angel.

LeBlanc walked to the window, watched the carriage exit her property before moving to the hidden panel of the dressing room. Leaning on the arched entry she watched Kayle dangle for a moment. "So damned tempting," she murmured before entering the room and unfastening her dress to allow them to drop to her ankles as she positioned herself behind the dangling bound Demacian. "Lesson four," she growled as she yanked Kayle’s head back. "Be ready whenever your mistress desires you." Her hand released her white hair to travel up between her legs and fondle her to arousal. Moisture gathered as the angel shivered in anticipation. With her hand, she summoned a strap-on and guided the toy between the slave's legs to find the clef and the moist opening. Threateningly the sorceress moved her other hand down her side. "I'll have to try this with a dagger," she promised darkly.

Kayle moaned not wanting to, but unable to stop the response her body granted the woman. LeBlanc had places to go, and people to meet, but right now the only thing that mattered to her was the Demacian dangling so deliciously from her touches. She thrust deeper and deeper, grunting and growling. Kayle clenched her eyes and did her best to ignore the assault and the blood running between her legs, each thrust brought more pain and she couldn’t help but let out a painful moan. Once LeBlanc had relived the urge and released her desires into the slave, she slapped the side of her fanny with her good hand. "Good slave," she commented as if praising a prize horse on a good canter. LeBlanc pulled out of her and watched as the blood runs down her legs, and tears stained her cheeks. "Very good, girl," her hand patted her ass domineeringly demonstrating her complete control of the angel's situation. "Now," she reached up and removed the girl; "You have some chores to do," LeBlanc reached down and pulled her dress up before dragging Kayle out the room, LeBlanc began to sing the song she hummed relentlessly. "There was an old woman all skin and bone

Who lived near the graveyard all alone.
She thought she’d go to church one day
To hear the parson preach and pray.
And when she came to the church-house stile
She thought she stop and rest awhile.
She came up to the door
She thought she’d stop and rest some more.
But when she turned and looked around
She saw a corpse upon the ground.
From its nose down to its chin
The worms crawled out, and the worms crawled in.
The woman to the preacher said,
“Shall I look like that when I am dead?”
The preacher to the woman said,
“You shall look like that when you are dead...” ”

Kayle was quietly scrubbing the tile floor of the hallways like she normally did, though this time she was mindlessly humming the song that LeBlanc was singing when the Matron was dragging her out the room. The song was quite catchy despite the creepy nature behind it. She wondered where the sorceress had left to.

“Well hi there lady!” came a high-pitch voice from behind her.

Kayle jumped when seeing the newcomer. It was another gargoyle. She appearance as did the rest of the gargoyles only her beastly feature looks more child-like than beastly like the rest but she still was a gargoyle, she had little dark gray horns on her beastly head, angelic wings, pointed ears, and little fangs. She was smaller than the other servants as well and she also had more human-like eyes despite them still being stone. Kayle had seen many other gargoyles in

“I...I don’t believe we met, have we?” Kayle asked unsurely.

“Well aren’t you a smart one!” the gargoyle grinned with every sharp tooth out of place. She fluttered to the wingless angel and smelled her, making the angel confused and nervous. “My goodness, you really do smell like a lot of blood, just like mistress said!”

“Y…yeah…” Kayle agreed awkwardly. “Who are you again?”

The gargoyle blinked in confusion then smiled in a friendly manner, “My name is Brisé, mistress doesn’t let me near slaves because I’m not smart,” she giggled and knocked on her stone head, “you must be Casséaile.”

Kayle frowned but answered anyway, “I suppose you could call me that, are you suppose to be doing chores too?”

Brisé shook her head and body, like she was a child, caught doing something wrong, “No, mistress says my mind isn’t good for that anymore, she lets me play in the garden instead with the rocks, I call her ‘mommy’ sometimes too!” She chirped.

The gargoyle gave Kayle a creepy vibe, there was something surely wrong with her and the way she sounded suggested she much under the age of ten. That made Kayle sicken to her stomach that LeBlanc had previously owned a child slave.

“Has mistress shown you the fun room yet?” Brisé asked curiously.


“This one right here!” she waved her hand to show a simple wooden door behind the slave.

“I…do not believe we are permitted to enter without permission,” Kayle informed her.

“Well, I don’t think that’s too polite! It’s got you written all over it!” Brisé pushed the door open for Kayle to see that the gargoyle child was not being hypothetical in any form of the word.

Kayle dropped the cloth she was cleaning with astonishment and slowly crawled toward the room. The Judicator stuttered quietly as she looked through the doorway to see plans and torture methods regarding her everywhere, from flaying, to organ removals, to mind control, the detailed plans and spells that had been previously used on the slave made something rise to her throat.

“Mistress got darn near every spell for you since you got here, she really cares about you,” The child gargoyle informed the Demacian.

Kayle looked across the words to find truth in her words, every plan for her that lead the slave to her most pitiful forms. Cutting, rape, flaying, humiliation, cannibalism, mutilation, neglect, even using fear to control a slave.

“Well, this is unfortunate….”

Kayle froze for a second and spun around to see LeBlanc standing in the doorway, a look of displeasure on her face.

“Thar ya are mommy!” Brisé grinned ignorantly.

“Oh Brisé, you know I love you so, you wonderful dunce.” LeBlanc shook her head. Her child servant merely grinned merrily, especially after she was handed a doll, which she was ordered to play in the other room. She obliged happily and kissed LeBlanc on her ring, which LeBlanc softly patted her on the head. Brisé flew out of the room moments later.

LeBlanc turned her bright amber gaze to Kayle again, making the angel flinch.

“W-what is all this?!” Kayle asked fearfully.

“A mere fascination, one I fear has gone on for too long…” she answered with a sigh.

“A sick fascination!”

“An immortal slave coming from the most divine of creatures…the endless possibilities that could come from you attracted me greatly dear, surely you cannot shame me for a simple fascination.” The sorceress cocked her head to the side as she began to walk towards the slave.

Kayle's arms stumbled backward to keep her distance from her owner. “Th-this is not fascination, this is an obsession!” she cried quietly.

“What was that dear? You’ll have to speak up, no one likes a mumbler~” LeBlanc teased.

“S-stay away from me!”

“What’s the matter, Casséaile? Don’t like how I carefully planned your breaking?” her evil amber eyes glowed with malice as she continued toward Kayle.

“M…my….?” The room's lighting darkened drastically, making the angel look up to the lights to see nothing but stone that was not there before. Kayle looked around the room to see all the walls changed from their wall-paper of the plans into solid rock.

Kayle shot her gaze to where the Matron stood to find her missing. The Judicator screamed from this startling fact and started to back up again, only she ran into something soft. Before the slave could react, a pair of arms wrapped around her tightly, one around her waist and the other slithered around her neck. Both were rough but gentle.

“It was a short wait, considering the long time I’ve lived compared to your time on Runeterra.” A voice breathed in her ear, making Kayle try to scream again, but it was cut off the lack of her air entering her lungs, Kayle was breathing at a fast rate when she realized she was in darkness. “Oh, and there it goes again~” the sorceress cooed in her ear. “Poor little angel…”

“L-let me go!” Kayle protested weakly.

“There’s no use trying that you know, now just stay still…” the hand around her waist gripped her rags tightly, while the hand on her neck flowed softly across her shoulders and neck.

“Was this always your plan, you Noxian scum?” Kayle asked bitterly.

“Mmm, maybe not everything was planned, I really meant you not to see my little secret till later. Brisé is a dimwit.”

“How could you say that? I thought you loved your servants!”

“Do not mistake my honesty for dislike child, she has no illusion of what she is so she simply accepts is without offense. She was broken when she was human through my assistance aided in that.”

“If you truly loved her, then why are you here with me now?”

Emilia giggled slightly in Kayles elf-like ear. “Don’t flatter yourself young one, I have a particularly…a different use for you…children don’t make good toys...”

Kayle gathered her strength and elbowed the Noxian in the gut and crawled the best she could toward the doorway of the tomb and crawled out as fast as she could.

“My dear, why do you bother?” The sorceress called to her. The Demacian ignored her and followed the cobble stairway up to where she prayed for salvation. As she took each step, the stone beneath her hands and paralyzed legs were suddenly coved in tall flowing wheat, and the stairs were instantly leveled, making the angel stumble and look around.

Kayle looked behind her to see nothing all around her but wheat field and blue sky, making her fall over in confusion. The meadow was a glorious expanse of grass and meadow flowers, grass rustling gently in the breeze. There was a narrow brook flowing through it choked with weeds. Tall water-mint with pale lilac flowers, like dozens of tiny bells, were growing at the edge of the brook with the many kinds of wheat covering it.

“What's the matter, dear?”

Kayle looked all around to try and find the mage that spoke, but nothing moved. The wind was roaring in the great bare trees of the center as if it were some wild dark grove deep in a forgotten land. The wind began to blow hard, pushing the angel in a specific direction. She crawled with it, not knowing what else there was to do, and soon, LeBlanc was flying right next to Kayle….with her wings. Kayle’s eyes widen when she saw the sorceress flying with the wings that she tore from the angel. The Demacian muscles tensed from the sight but continued to crawl.

“With your misfortune, you really shouldn’t run dear, you might run into something even less pleasant~” LeBlanc purred.

“Leave me alone!” The slave screamed.

Kayle stumbled slightly as her surroundings began to change again. This time water began to splash against her feet, making her slow her crawlings as the waves rose. Though the lettering was no doubt clearly painted, it was distorted to the point if illegibility by the water above. The wind that gusted gave the ocean's surface the look of shattered glass, each tiny facet both reflecting a portion of the wintry sunrays and refracting the rest. The water crashed against her, but in these conditions it was suicidal; if the currents didn't get Kayle the temperature soon would. Kayle cursed. The water rose to the Demacians naval quickly, making her gasp and look around in fear. Nearby her, LeBlanc flouted above the water’s surface with a look of great pleasure on her face.

“No, wait! I can’t swim in this condition!!” Kayle cried out to the older woman with tears in her gold eyes.

The Noxian snickered at her pleas. “Oh my, how, aha, unfortunate~”

The sand floor was yanked from her feet as the waters picked Kayle up and crushed her against a rock. The Judicator coughed from the water trying to make its way down her throat, and Kayle clung to the rock with everything she had.

The water receded and she closed her eyes, waiting for another wave to hit her, but it never came. Kayle slowly opened her eyes to see a great landscape of nearby icy mountains and fluffy white clouds that reminded her of the ones she flew by, and the rock she held onto was miles high into the sky, the point of a mountain it looked like, and below was a straight drop to death.

Kayle began to scream and cry from frustration and fear, the freezing winds making her arms go numb from the soaking light colored nightgown that clad her shaking form. The weight of her paralyzed legs felts as if they were pulling her to a painful fate if she let go. The angel felt her exhausted body beg to let go, beg for a break to lie down and rest, but she knew she couldn’t.

“I must say, my dear girl, it sure seems like the longer you run, the worst your luck gets~” Kayle looked up to see LeBlanc again, but this time she stood normally on the very point of the rock Kayle clung to. She didn’t seem fazed at all to the heights, and never swayed to the wind.

“Please!! Please take me home LeBla-I mean Mistress!!!” Kayle pleaded pathetically.

“Impossible my dear, you have no home.” She sighed with fake sadness.

“Then take me somewhere safe, please! Take me back to your manor or somewhere else, I don’t care!!”

A wicked grin formed on her lips. “Well now, in order for that to happen, you would have to trust me. Can you do that sweetie?”

Kayle quivered from her gleaming amber eyes, but she finally nodded. LeBlanc walked on the air like it was a floor and walked behind the slave and placed her hands on the angel's waist.

“Now let go.”

Kayle looked at her like she was crazy, but took a deep breath and let go of the rock to find LeBlanc's hands disappear from her side, letting her fall. Kayle screamed as she fell through the sky. The world rushes by in a blur and she knows the pain is coming. It goes by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. Then impact. Kayle felt her bones move in a way they shouldn't jangle. Without looking she know there is blood seeping from the skin that seconds ago was smooth. The Demacian didn’t move - anything to delay the part where she takes in what she looks like now. Torn and dirty skin, reddened, weeping. Seconds later, she felt a cold staff against her skin and the pain sept away like it was being sucked out of her, then she realized she was never in pain or at a cliff. It was all an illusion.

Kayle rolled to her stomach in great surprise and sobbed as she realized that the world around her had changed again, but this time, before she was in front of the manor. The Judicator wept in relief, thinking this to be real instead of another cruel mind trick. LeBlanc tapped her shoulder with the staff, making her jolt.

“Shall we?” she grinned and motioned to the stone building.

“B-but…” Kayle stuttered, still freezing from her ocean trip.

“Come now, there’s a surprise waiting for you~”

“I’ve had my fill with surprises thank you.” Kayle spat.

“Oh come on dear, don’t be that way.” LeBlanc attached a leash to her collar and pulled her to follow her. Kayle tried to protest, but she pulled her along to the vast entrance. “You are shivering, my dear, are you cold?”

“A little!!” The slave growled.

The sorceress merely snickered as she continued to lead her into the halls and into a ballroom. Kayle's hands and legs could feel the floor grow sticky, not making her want to look down, but even if she did want to, her gold eyes couldn’t leave her owner in front of her. To make it worst, she walked close enough to Kayle that her peripheral view did nothing for her.

“Now close your eyes, just for a moment~,” LeBlanc told her. Kayle obeyed shaking and felt herself be turned around and placed on a hard seat. “Now open your eyes, my angel of misfortune.”

The angel's sight was assaulted but a courtroom of corpses, and blood patches in her rags. She looked across the ballroom of blood with a look of horror, and pain. Cruel though it sounds, once the light winks out in their eyes they are another carcass to bury. The soul has moved on and Kayle was left to stare at the corpses of strangers she finds herself weeping for. Their limbs, long passed the stage of rigor mortis, were torn and their organs spilled along with the blood covered floor, their muscles and bones to exposed to the air and was decomposing. Bodies against one another in the room. Their greyed flesh is often torn in the process of being moved and their eyes stare at a sky they'll never see. Instantly, as the smell hit her nose, the swarm of gargoyles flew from the ceiling and fell upon the helpless corpses and began devouring it, tearing strips of flesh from the lower shell, which in the space of a half-minute was reduced simply to the bone. The most horrible feature of this act of cannibalism was the complete silence with which it was performed, except for the rasping of the dying human's legs. It was evident that the gargoyles had no vocal apparatus. She knew these servants and here they are eating humans in front of her, her image of them was ruined. Horrified, Kayle stared at the blood with fear. She felt her own hands drench with the oozing red liquid as clear as rubies. The rubies floated down her hand a perfidy treasure or a curse. She didn't remember what happened. Why was there a massacre? Blood vividly appeared itself in her mind portraying its deadly beauty shades of red. With a start only then she realized the bloodshed was her. “Why are you doing this…?” She sobbed.

“Why my dear, your streak of torture was far too delicious to be left alone.” LeBlanc walked in front of her and mock bowed.

“There are others with more torment than I do…” she spat.

“Not true my dear, care to know why?” LeBlanc slid her finger beneath Kayle’s chin and lifted her face to look at her. “For what is about to happen~” She smirked libidinously. In an instant, Kayle found herself in LeBlanc’s bedroom instead of the ballroom. LeBlanc grabbed her by the collar and threw her on the bed.

The Matron wants her body to obey every command she gives it.. the part about that dug in Kayle’s head like a rusty nail like it was working. LeBlanc crawled on top of the fearful slave, the Judicator squirmed trying to resist herself from the sorceress. "...Please stop..." she would choke out in a miserable tone every now and then only to have her pleas ignored. The thought of suicide crossed her mind several times. Kayle could just end it herself, but that is impossible. She closes her eyes not being able to witness what the sadistic mage was doing to her. Until she heard the woman chuckle like she had won something, Kayle shot a glare up to her direction, already used to her looks she didn't flinch a bit when LeBlanc’s ghostly eyes were staring down at her.

"Not enjoying this form anymore?" Emilia cooed making a kiss face mockingly down at the chained slave. "Maybe I should spice it up a bit? Take a different form?" Kayle start to revolt squirming under the chains, "NO! NO! I NEVER ENJOYED IT NO MATTER WHAT FORM!"

LeBlanc only rolled her eyes grabbing both the slaves wrist with one hand to restrain her and the other to grab a chunk of her white hair pulling the Demacian off the bed. The chain dragged with her, punching and screaming scared to know where LeBlanc was taking her. The floor tore through her skin like paper, she didn't know nor did Kayle care if it was to tear her skin. LeBlanc’s magic slammed Kayle up against the wall right next to where her chain was bolted in. Kayle looks at her confused and in pain, because her leg was all cut up, she could still feel them despite not being able to move them. Emilia didn't seem to care, she lifted her hand out and the dagger on the nightstand floated to her. Once she had it she pointed the tip right at the Judicators throat with a little chuckle. "Not enjoying it huh? I'm starting to think you just love the attention of getting abused. Let's prove my theory!" Her laugh was full of evil, Kayle wanted to move but she had her trapped between a rock and a hard place. She pulled her finger and summoned a large mirror.

"You know what that is?" LeBlanc asked rather calmly, Kayle responded by nodding her head holding herself up with her arms staring at the mirror.

“Good, I was hoping our trip didn’t make you mindless.” LeBlanc purred, her eyes scanned through Kayle’s panic expression when an idea crossed her mind. Her grin turned more malice and filled with sinister intent, Kayle gulped when she saw this.

“You…” The Matron started in a malic tone, “don’t like the form I usually present, do you? Would you prefer a new form?” She asked a little too kind. The angel clenched her teeth and watch purple energy surround LeBlanc as she transformed into….her sister.

Kayle’s eye's widened so much she felt like her eyes would pop off their socket. The air is chill, every cell in her body stood like stone, her minds scramble like it was destroyed over and over, refusing to believe that LeBlanc would dare to take the form of her sister. Kayle’s lips almost blood-filled as the blood was slowing down from the shock. Her limbs froze as if some inexperienced person is controlling them remotely and her eyes are wide, looking right at Morgana, tears filled her eyes.

The Morgana-look-alike pushed Kayle over on the bed and mounted her "You look so beautiful when you're scared," The voice of her twin cooed in her ear running her fingers through Kayle’s tangled white locks and just when her body became relaxed Morgana clutched a handful of hair yanking it to the side so her head followed pointing it right in the direction of the mirror making her stare at her twin on top of her "You see that, sister? I want you to see me~" Morgana hissed and summoned the toy to use, she positioned it quickly at Kayle’s hole grinning ear to ear looking down at her, of course seeing tears roll down her cheeks realizing she was being molested by her twin, 'Haha tears of pleasure as usual' LeBlanc thought slowly pushing the head of the toy into her entrance. Just as she thought Kayle started fighting back, the shapeshifter leaned down and slapped her. Kayle coughed out and hissed in pain, Morgana only laughed at her pitiful demand "Be good, sister,” she hissed cruelly and thrust the toy in and out. Kayle clenched her eyes shut and pretended this wasn’t happening to her, tears were streaming down her eyes. The sorceress chuckled and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “It feels so good inside of you, Kayle. We should have done this more often~” she moaned in the voice of the dark angel. Kayle whimpered and her entire body shook violently as she screamed out and cried. The mage saw streams of blood going across the bed from womanhood it made it all the better the smell of her blood was intoxicating making the shapeshifters thrust more aggressive the angel started to scream out the best she could with her dry beaten up throat. Morgana licked her check and roughly pressed her lips against Kayle and brushed her tongue against the opening for the Demacian to open when she refused the dark angel bit her lip, Kayle yelped in pain and Morgana took the opportunity to shove her tongue in her sister's mouth. As she was doing this Morgana took the time to squeeze her breast, pinching her slave's nipples in between her fingertips. The shapeshifter broke the kiss, leaving a string of saliva, she heard the Judicator moan out, she smirked by this, "Ahh yes, so now it's starting to feel good when your sister is the one touching you?? Disgusting little thing aren’t you? Embrace the pain! Love it!!" Morgana pulled out of her quick flipping her on her side so she was facing the mirror and had no choice but to look at it she cringed in pain from her the chains cutting into her skin but soon shut up when the toy thrust into her arse, stretching the unused hole. Kayle screamed in pain as she was being sodomized by Morgana. She thrusted in the abused hole at a fast pace. LeBlanc had noticed that other than the blood the slave was actually aroused when she touched her sex, "Oh so wet! Are you only aroused when it's with me, sister?" She started laughing seeing Kayle looking at herself getting ravished by her twin.

Kayle couldn't stand this pain, it felt even worse being forced to look at her twin's look-alike violating her arse. The angel saw Morgana defile her hole in the mirror thrusting it so roughly into her. She was getting aroused but now LeBlanc's humiliating her by making her watch her sister take her innocence away that was now leaking down her leg. Fresh blood was leaking from the sodomy, it felt worse than when she was raped in her womanhood. Kayle saw Morgana trailing her tongue on her neck and she cringed when she felt it. Why did this have to happen? The Judicator was left what was happening to her and went to thoughts of just dying right then and there at least then she could be done with this torment...The sorceress quickly snapped her out of her thoughts by bitting on her neck hard enough to draw blood sending the slave into so much pain through her body but Kayle could only whimper. Morgana rolled the girl over all the way to her hands and forced her paralyzed knees with magic to inserting herself back in, Kayle laid over her back snaking her sisters way around her body grabbing her breast with one hand the other going in between her legs, rubbing her clit and sex. The pain in between in her legs hurt more and more and she was losing so much blood it was a puddle now but the sexual pleasure Kayle was getting masked by her dizziness from losing to much blood. Kayle felt that weird feeling she felt when Swain took her, the angel couldn't hold back her moans. Morgana became more aggressive pounding into her fragile broken body as the Demacian screamed out, her body was twitching she just wanted to collapse but she couldn't, the mage held her up as she kept thrusting both of the wetness and blood body fluids mixing and dripping down her leg. The sodomy became unbearable and her eyes rolled back from the pain and pleasure, pleasure she felt from the pain.

Seeing herself being raped by her sister brought about a whole new meaning to torture and breaking. She cried with more violence than any gale. Being raped by a family member was a torture to her soul. She didn't break quietly, it was like every atom of her being screamed in unison, traumatized that she should exist with this event. “STOP THIS! PLEASE STOP...SISTER STOP!” she screamed and begged on the top of her lungs. In return, the look-alike chuckled and pulled her into another kiss, which Kayle sobbed into. When the wracking sobs passed she cried in such a desolate way that no-one could bear to listen for long. She had gone from gregarious to hanging by a thread, a transformation no-one knew how to reverse. This would break her mind into a million pieces that could never be healed again.

Kayle heard her groan out "Ah...I’m close, sister," her eyes go wide shaking her head choking out "NO! N...DON’T!!" Kayle wanted to move but her body is paralyzed in pain "Let’s see if I can make you cum with me," Morgana does one more giant thrust followed by a loud moan, which pushed a strange and intense feeling that released some kind of pleasurable feeling from her womanhood, her entire body shook from the sudden pleasure and she felt dizzy. Kayle whimper feeling hot liquid warm up her lower parts and come out from her. Was this what an orgasm was? Mortified at what LeBlanc just did "You...made me..." Kayle weakly blurts out, her tense feeling made Morgana pull out hearing her pant for breath. The pain in her arse became a burning one. The Judicator fell on the bed, her heart beating slowly, knowing she was about to go fall into some unknown feeling...was it joy? She looks up through squinted eyelids up at Morgana who changed back into LeBlanc, she was grinning down at the slave. "You actually had an orgasm from your sister," she laughed at the slave laying on the bed in her own blood and tears getting so much enjoyment from it

Kayle began to weep even harder as the Matron rubbed noses with her affectionately, her fingers slowly slipping from the slave's chin. LeBlanc took Kayle into a tight hug.

“Despair…sadness…worthlessness…you’ve felt it all, haven’t you?” Emilia asked softly as she nuzzled into her wet hair, giving the angel chills. “Fear no longer my dear, I love you.” LeBlanc summoned the dagger and plunged into Kayle’s chest, but she didn’t react. she couldn’t. The dagger met skin, delicate and squishy, and made a fantastic squish as the tip of the sharp edge sank sufficiently profound into Kayle's heart. The sorceress turned the sharp edge, at the same time sinking it more profound and deeper. Her skin was torn to shreds as the knife pivoted, the sound of her muscles and nerves being gouged becoming more intense until she could see the heart of the slave through the torn flesh. Kayle didn’t react, she was so numb at this point, she could cry, or struggle, or even cough. The words ‘I love you’ sunk deep her mind, she was loved by someone, someone loved her, LeBlanc loved her.

Kayle was broken now, shattered really, robbed early of the tape and glue necessary to put her soul back together. Her heart, poorly stapled shut, was beating hard but without purpose, her skin stretched across her aching muscles like a worn canvas. Her mind was like a lost man at sea, desperate and starving for some reason to live. Desperate for a memory, good, warm, welcoming, one she could smile too. It was difficult to remember her smile, soft but contagious, it had stained her lips like blood, the same blood she could taste as she bit her tongue hard to keep from screaming. But no one had seen her smile. Not since the first time LeBlanc had touched her, her grip hot and menacing, her mind soaking in the fear and newfound pain, this woman, relishing every moment she could slip her hands inside of her, eyes darting all across her face and body, hungry, desperate to fill her own desire that could only be done by trespassing and taking what wasn't hers, what can be only taken once, holding her back and holding her down from a life that from the outside looked at only as one in repair, not in destruction.

“I love you...” Kayle whispered emotionlessly, tears running down her face.

Emilia LeBlanc snickered, she leaned down to kiss the exposed heart and left a bloody kiss mark on the slave's cheek. “I love you too, now, what is your name?”

Kayle stared into the amber eyes of LeBlanc as a lover would.


Chapter Text

Dreaming had never been pleasant for Kayle, nightmares were no different. Not because of nightmares alone but the realization she could no longer tell what was reality or a dream, she could only tell it was a dream would be when she would fly. Kayle still did fly when she was awake but now her mind flew away from her, now her nightmares become her pleasure of a new world to explore.

In this dream, Kayle found herself sitting in a dark room with her ten-year-old self only with an old wooden table with three chairs but one was empty. The room was lit only by a single black candle, their shadows formed from the lightings and appeared to have movement of their own, but none of that mattered. The Demacian sat down with her childhood self and watched the little girls movements. The child was looking at three cards on the table, one card had the image of Kayle in her Demacian armor holding her sword with a severed head held on the sword like it was on a spike, it was labeled “Purge”. The second card had Kayle in a simple black gown with crimson wings laying in an open coffin with black rose petals under her and her hands were crossed with a single black rose to lay between her hands. The stem and thorns cut in her wrist and wrapped itself around her arms as blood trickled from the open wounds. Her skin was paler than usual and dark bags were under eyes, she appeared pale like a corpse, the card was labeled, “Peace”. The last card was of her completely naked and kneeling, her eyes were covered by two demon-like hands and her wings were severed and laying beside her chained self, spikes were piercing through her body and was being violated by demons, fiery hands have risen from the ground and grabbing ahold of Kayle’s naked body. What bothered Kayle the most about that card was the orgasmic look on her face. It was labeled “Purgatory”. All three cards were black and white and had a grim drawing to it. The child looking at the card appeared fascinated by the cards and asked the angel to pick one.

The Judicator shook her head mutely. She'd been here an hour tops, or this was some nightmare. She breathed. It wasn't real, how could it be. “Choose a card.” She shook her head. Child-Kayle tilted her head in confusion, “Why refuse me?”

“Each card is dreadful, I wouldn’t want any of this. Would you?”

The girl's lips curled into a creepy grin, she slightly spread her legs and moved her hands down to her own thighs, she answered in a sinister and ring voice, “I would, it’s not that much different than what I do in the dark, you did them too.”

“What did I do in the dark?” She asked.

Child-Kayle laughed. “What do you mean what you did? Why don't you think back to that day you were sleeping in the room with sister. What really happened? Blocked it out, have we? I would too. You came to a sticky end, my love. Then you came to me. I can't manipulate the lies half as well as I can the fear. And that's what you are. So let's stop all the pretense and get on with the game. Choose a card.”

Kayle looked down at the cards once more, she was shocked to see the ink off the cards were melting off and forming a more grotesque picture, more violence, more despair. This was all unknown to her, never had she known herself less than when she was in this dark room with her childhood self. Kayle rose her gold eyes to the child once more, “Do I want to remember what happened?” She asked coldly and determinedly.

The child merely smiled, “Think of it like picking these cards, would you like the fate for any of these outcomes as you would like to relive that memory?”

"I don’t know,” The Judicator drawled, unsure of herself.

“Choose a card.”

Kayle sighed and reached her hand out on its own, each card was horrible, with her hand moving on its own command she didn’t stop herself. What card will she choose?

Kayle’s hand was reaching out for the ceiling above her until she realized she was no longer dreaming. She was sleeping on the carpet in LeBlanc’s room, after the events last night the sorceress decided to allow the girl to sleep in the room with her, but on the floor. The slave’s eyes lazily rolled open, glazed over with the remnants of a dream. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, the chains rattled with each movement, causing her mistress to awaken from the sounds and throw a pillow at the slave for waking her, the pillow hit Kayle in the shoulder but caused no pain.
Moments later, the grand general has risen from his slumber and dressed quietly while ignoring the existence of the slave on the floor, he informed his lover he would return late yet again due to the rebel situation in the occupied territories. He left the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

Kayle knew her mistress was awake now, probably mad for waking her. After ten minutes, LeBlanc sat up and stared out the window, the sun shined through the currents and slightly lightened the room. There was a knock on the door, LeBlanc gave permission for the gargoyle to come in. The servant walked in, bowed, and handed the Noxian a letter and left right after. LeBlanc carelessly opened in and her eyes roamed through the words quickly, a smile formed on her lips and she set the letter down on the nightstand.

“Casséaile, come here,” she ordered in monotone.

Kayle quickly crawled to the side of the bed and kept her head down. Her mind wandered away from her sanity and it never came back to her. Her mind became a hollow shell of what it once was, the only thing she knew of now was that LeBlanc owns her and only she could liberate her from suffering, that was the closest thing to love.

"What is your name?"

"Casséaile," she answered.

LeBlanc reached her hand out and gently patted the slave on the head. It wasn’t a touch that harmed her or one she was fearful of, it gave Kayle a warm and tingly feeling that caused her to crave for more. Of course, Kayle’s mind was so gone she didn’t realize the hand that caressed her was a dagger cutting under her eye. The small cut under her left eye caused a small trickle of crimson to leak down like she was weeping tears of blood, she had mistaken the pain as a pleasure and she wanted more of it. Some call it bewitched; now she calls it love. For there is an emptiness in the freedom of being alone and liberty in being caught in that divine spell. And so when Kayle sees in her eyes the feelings of her heart, it was a feeling that was warped into a sick desire of her.
LeBlanc snickered by the dreamy face the slave made when she cut her, there was no harmful reaction in her broken gold eyes, only numbness. LeBlanc instantly dressed and attached the leash to Kayle’s collar.


“We’re going to a friends house, I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

Kayle slowly nodded and the blood from the cut had dripped onto her lap, only then the Demacian realized she was harmed, she didn’t react to that fact.
LeBlanc tapped her staff on the ground and once a swift wind blew against the Judicators face, her muscles tensed and she felt dizzy from the teleportation. LeBlanc made a mental note to herself of the lack of cleanliness that was in the hallway though Kayle never got the chance to take in her surrounding. Both of the women found themselves in front of a door with two voices heard on the other side.

“Don’t you mind living amongst Demacians all the time? I’m surprised none of them have tried to attack you.”

"Demacians are no threat to me. Yet, I’ve also wondered why they haven’t attacked us as well."

The sorceress opened the door, revealing Katarina and Draven on the other side staring out a window.

“Tell your slave to do a better job cleaning,” the mage grouched. “Your home is filthy, but I expect that from you.”

“That’s not exactly one of Sona’s tasks,” Draven answered, with a slight smile on his face. “You should’ve just teleported here, You could do that right?”

“Correct, yet I have manners and I thought that would be rude”’ Leblanc frowned. “When you come into someone else’s home, that is.”

Kayle was confused by those words, they did just teleport here. During her months of enslavement, she learned the Matron had an obsession with cleanliness despite refusing to bath her slave. The angel was in no position to think twice of her mistress’s words, the truth was for her to decide.

“You’ve known Draven long enough to know he doesn’t mind,” Katarina chuckled. Kayle glanced up to take a look at the assassin. Katarina looked the same as she usually did, her fit body, scarlet hair, emerald eyes, the same scar, and the usual smug face she wore. There was something else but Kayle couldn’t point it, it scared her.

“Likewise," the sorceress replied.

Kayle immediately shot her eyes back down she the scarlet-haired Noxian turned her gaze to the slave. The angel immediately trembled when another eye fell on her. It was the same unfamiliar eyes that stare and watch her suffer, her watery eyes enlarged and the hairs on the nape of her neck bristled. She silently prayed Katarina would not stare at her.
“And I see you brought your slave along,” the assassin drawled, keeping her eyes on the beaten Demacian.

LeBlanc smirked and slightly tugged the leash, the slave immediately winced from the sudden pull, “I thought she could entertain us, later on, ~”

Katarina snickered and the three of them slouched into the couches. Draven took the big one in the middle, Katarina and LeBlanc took the standalone on either side with Kayle still sitting on the floor beside her mistress with an emotionless expression. The Demacian slowly traced her finger alongside the wooden floor.

“Where is your slave?” her mistress asked, looking around.

“She’s getting the drinks,” Draven yawned.

Kayle remembered that Draven now owned Sona, she wondered what happened to her. She last heard Sona was doing well, though the angel herself as well. The three Noxians were having a conversation though Kayle’ mind was drifting away elsewhere to pay attention, she didn’t like this place, these people, or anything else. All this was too unfamiliar to her and she was scared, but she has her owner to protect her from those eyes.

The Judicator heard the sound of the door opening but kept her head down obediently so her eyes don’t look at Sona, judging by the sound Katarina made and the argument she had with Draven caused the wingless slave to the mute Demacian was doing well. Not that she cared, Kayle doesn’t care anymore.

“How did she become so obedient?” LeBlanc asked curiously.

The executioner shrugged. “Nothing that I did, she understood from the start what she was and accepted it, perhaps if every other Demacian understood that we wouldn’t be having these issues".
Draven leaned next to Sona and kissed her, their tongues slowly feeling their way along the arch of one another’s lips.

Kayle felt the eyes of LeBlanc was looking with glassy eyes at her, Kayle would only respond if the sorceress gave an order, the Matron then resumed taking a sip of her drink.
The assassin scowled. She took a sip from her wine but then decided to down it in one. The flavor was strong and she could barely taste the alcohol.

“Has she shared your bed willingly?” Katarina asked coldly, as she filled her glass again. She gulped it faster than she should have.

“Yes, it makes it much easier than having to hold her down,” Draven answered in a conversational tone, “It must be bothersome for you two always having to force yourselves on your slaves,” he laughed.

A sudden dragged feeling in Kayle caused her to start lightly scratching her hand. The room was cool, but her blood was icy and her muscles tense. She had lost any sense of how long she'd been there, each second was an eternity praying that the time could go by quicker. Her arms began to cramp from the scratching but she dare not move even to ease the pain and she cradled it on her lap.

“It certainly is, though I prefer a little energy to Casséaile~” LeBlanc teased as her hands slowly ran over the Judicators white locks, Kayle tensed up fearfully by the touch and shivered as she kept her head down, all of this was scary, she didn’t want to be here. She could tell the assassin was still watching her, her dead gold eyes slightly moved to not gaze at the assassin but Sona, she didn’t notice how well the Mute woman looked, only the pity eyes that met Kayle, in those blue eyes were pity and sadness for a comrade.

Back in their conversation, Draven smirked in his usual Egotastic manner over his revelation of a threesome. “I’m sure you’ve been having all kinds of fun of your own slaves.”

LeBlanc grinned. “That is true,” she spoke. “I’ve been… experimenting on my little slave for quite some time and I finally managed to break her spirit entirely. Now she understands just what I am capable of~”

Katarina sighed inwardly, her eyes moved to Kayle once again, it certainly wasn’t a look of pity, it was of interest. The scarlet-haired Noxian huffed arrogantly, “Like what? You made her eat her own wings? You had her own sister rape her? You used the utmost forbidden spells on her?” the assassin laughed with Draven joining in moments later. What little do they know?

The angel shuddered by Katarina’s words through the scarlet-haired woman meant it to be sarcastic every word she spoke was true. Kayle grasped her own arms trying not to cry. Her nails dug into the skin of her arms as the memories of last night replayed in her head, all the while watching the two Noxian laugh in ignorance of her situation. Sona just sat there with a look of pity. LeBlanc gave the two Noxians a malicious grin, she did not say anything, she merely took another sip of her wine as she continued to pet Kayle like she was a dog. Katarina, Draven, and Sona saw Kayle clench her teeth together and grasp on her own arms tightly, looking like she was trying desperately not to cry. Both Katarina and Draven stopped laughing once they saw the mages grin. The dark mage turned her attention back to Katarina, the three Noxian had a conversation on each of their slaves though it seemed to have turned once the assassin refused to talk about Lux. The Matron suddenly pulled her hand away from the slave and the conversation took a more serious turn.

“You know, Du Couteau,” LeBlanc started, her tone suddenly deadly serious. “If you’re really that unhappy with Crownguard, I’d be more than willing to make a trade. Your little light for my wingless slave. Like I said before, Casséaile won’t resist you. Think about it. A nice little judicator slave and an obedient one at that~”

Those words instantly caused the slaves heard to tumble down a hill of emotional hurt, the mistress would give her away? Kayle’s hurt is grief that came in waves, grueling, pain and sleeps alike. It is a shard in her guts that never leaves, though perhaps in time the edges will dull. It feels like death just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments it chokes the breath from her body and short circuits her mind. Tears silently dripped down her face, she was scared of being left alone, scared of being abandoned, scared that LeBlanc would give her away. Thankfully, Katarina shook her head and refused the offer.

“No?” Draven raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like a good deal to me."

“I don’t want to trade my slave," she answered coldly.

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

“Then why don't you trade with LeBlanc?” the executioner frowned.

Still, in a teary state, Kayle overheard the assassin giving some excuse despite the obvious signs from her body language and tone suggested she was jealous of the thought of giving her slave to someone else and it didn’t help when LeBlanc suggested bringing Lux. Kayle felt a rush of anger and hurt wash over her, it felt more like jealousy, something she wanted but she is a slave, she wants nothing but to leave and only be with LeBlanc. The assassin sighed angrily from the suggestion and resumed to focusing on her wine, the executioner gave her a sly smirk once an idea came to his head.

“Come on, let us make it up to you. There’s booze, there are snacks…there are two slave girls…” continued Draven. He arched his eyebrows and mustache and tilted his head at the mute Demacian and the dark mage. Kayle’s instantly paled when his suggestive tone gave a hint. They weren’t going to….were they?

Even Katarina’s mood suddenly improved to a more positive look. Did Draven mean what she thought he meant?

LeBlanc gave a small smirk and nodded before she turned her attention towards Kayle, “Slave, make Du Couteau feel good”. The dark mage ordered as she pulled harshly on the slave's leash. Kayle winced by the sudden pain and nodded. She had never pleasured another woman before, only her mistress, it made her heart rate faster and she was scared of the thought. Katarina smirked and got up from her seat and sat next to Leblanc. She shifted a little, getting comfortable. The wine bottle was passed around.

LeBlanc stood a large sip and held Kayle’s head still, forcing her mouth open as the dark mage spit it in the Demacians mouth as she kissed the slave. The mage grabbed the wine and spilled in on the wingless woman's head, of course, the red wine running over her head, chin, and throat, drenching Kayle’s deep cleavage, looking almost like blood, she quivered when the liquid ran down her body. The sorceress repeated this a couple of times, roughly kissing and licking the Judicators drenched face.

LeBlanc grinned and kissed the slave once more. She snapped her finger, and Kayle’s rags and LeBlanc’s own dress disappeared in the blink of an eye. Katarina’s lustful emerald eyes drank in the view of Kayle’s naked and abused body, she leaned over and ran her hands all over the angel's body. She noticed the large scar on her chest where LeBlanc stabbed her the previous night and the black rose branding on her breast. Katarina lightly groped the slave's breast and ran over finger over the red mark, the assassin realized this was a brand on Kayle’s chest. The red marks were a burned blistering scar from when it was placed on her.

“Did you brand her with the black rose crest?” She asked as she continued to examine the scar, Kayle’s gold eyes shifted to the floor, looking ashamed of the marking where she received it after she was raped.

LeBlanc smiled, “I did, it looks lovely, doesn’t it?”

“And painful," Draven commented.

Laughter rolled out of the purple haired Noxian like a barrel as she stared at her slave’s emotionless expression amusingly, “Yes it was, poor little slave was crying for two days straight when she got it~” she cooed mockingly at Kayle as she caressed her cheek, the Judicator felt like butterflies were flapping in her stomach by the touch. The slave remembered why she got the marking, to make sure she knew who owned her and she was grateful for it.

Katarina put her hand on Kayle’s shoulder. The Demacian shivered in disgust but hide it, Kayle suggested to herself that if she performed her duty well and pleasured the assassin then maybe mistress would see how useful she is, she would never enjoy it with anyone else. Katarina smirked by the look, she enjoyed the fearful look in her gold eyes as she traveled downward towards her breast. The scarlet-haired Noxian grabbed one and gently rubbed her thumb up and down over the slaves' nipple as she tried to get the feel of her. Kayle closed her eyes, she bit her lip and grunted in discomfort when Katarina pressed her thumb down on the black rose brand, the assassin grinned at her misery. In that discomfort was also a moan, the pressure on the brand scar gave her a sensation that she felt last night when she experienced her first orgasm, it was a pleasure.

LeBlanc watched for a moment and then took a more direct approach. In one big gulp, she poured the rest of the red wine on her, her gold eyes flying open when the cold liquid ran down her chest. Katarina started smearing it out over Kayle’s bruised breast, and LeBlanc did the same on her belly and paralyzed legs until she was coated in it. Then the Matron leaned forward and gave her a rough, greedy kiss Kayle on her open mouth. She moaned quietly, breathing out through her nose as LeBlanc’s tongue pushed deep inside her mouth. Kayle played the obedient role and allowed the two women to do whatever they wanted, no matter how painful. The slave knew Katarina was getting even more aroused, her own lips slightly parted, impatient to taste Kayle for herself. On the other couch, Sona was sucking on Draven’s large manhood, he let out a soft moan as he continued to watch the scene before him. He leaned her hand to Sona’s womanhood and gently fingered her.

LeBlanc grabbed the slave roughly by her hair and pulled her closer to Katarina, ”Get on with it, slave.”

Kayle nodded and obeyed quietly and brought her weak and shaky hands forwards and began to take off the assassin’s top, relieving the woman's nice formed breast and perky nipples. The Judicator brought her up half forward and pecking sweet little kisses on Katarina’s breast, abs, and tattoos contracted every time her lips touched the woman’s skin, the assassin softly moaned by the touches. It felt different from her mistress. LeBlanc got up and walked behind Kayle, spreading her legs wide, as the slave pulled down the assassin’s pants. When her soft hands pulled down her panties, she breathed out deeply.

Kayle's face turned red in embarrassment as she examined Kat’s womanhood, she just had to do what she normally does with LeBlanc. She looked scared and confused at the thought if she doesn’t do a good job then her owner would give her away. Katarina smiled. She likes those expressions, Kayle almost reminds her of Lux.
The assassin grabbed the roots of Kayle’s hair and harshly pressed her face against her wet sex. Kayle stuck her tongue in her womanhood and began to lap the juices, Katarina moaned heavily from the pleasure.

“That’s good~” she moaned.

Kayle’s tongue was swirling around the assassin’s clit, sucking it roughly. The Judicator licked and sucked the woman’s sex until the scarlet-haired assassin gasping, moaning, and dripping her juices all over the slave's face. The Demacian push her tongue inside, wet muscle meeting and excruciating at the tip of her tongue, going deeper into the assassin at a faster pace. Judging by the sounds, she was doing good-or maybe Katarina was just sensitive, she did mention Lux wasn’t well. While all this was going on, LeBlanc kneeled behind her slave, she whispered an incantation in which after a glowing purple flashed, the dark mage was wearing a ten-inch strap on. She grinned and positioned the tip on Kayle’s arse.

“You aren’t going to use lube?” Katarina asked slurring and moaning heavily.

LeBlanc shook her head, grinning maliciously at Kayle’s slight panic expression, “This isn’t meant to feel good for her~”

When the penetration happened, Kayle moaned into Katarina’s womanhood, Katarina saw the judicators pained face and attempted to restrain herself, while LeBlanc’s strap on quickly plowed its way down the Demacian’s back door. LeBlanc's fingertips are electric when she leaned over to touch her breast, they must be, for wherever they touch Kayle’s skin tingles in a frenzy of static. As her hands move over her skin Kayle’s body has a transitory paralysis, her mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. LeBlanc’s head moves around to her left ear and she whispers what's coming next.
When the Matron was all the way in, she stopped for a moment, she watched Kayle's pained face turn to pleasure amusement. The strange pleasure is increasing in waves, small lulls of a common feeling. In that split second before her touch, every nerve in Kayle’s body and the brain is electrified. It's the anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words, in a way that's so completely tangible. Despite being paralyzed waist down, she could still feel what was being done. It's as though her blood has become cum from the inside out as it was leaking out her abused hole. All she can do is writhe, the occasional whimper escaping from her mouth while it was against the assassin’s cunt.
LeBlanc smile grabbed hold of her lifeless hips and started fucking her.

Kayle’s fingers dug into Katarina’s legs. Her grip was stronger and weaker at the same time, the cling almost desperate. The Demacians gold eyes were closed, her mouth was still pleasing the assassin and she was sweating. Katarina could see the beads form on her brow. Her entire being was focused on relaxing her muscles so she could bear having LeBlanc’s strapon in her ass while her tongue was deep inside Katarina. Kayle’s groans were slow, deep and laden with a new emotion she couldn’t quite determine. Was it despair? No, it was a pleasure. She was enjoying the pain. Painful sex became a drug to the angel. One touch and she intoxication are instant. Whatever LeBlanc wants to do is what they'll do and there isn't a thing the slave can do to stop her -Pain was her new pleasure. Just her scent sends me into a heady trance, one that doesn't end until their bodies are still once more, just warm and snuggled in as close as two souls can be, this is how Kayle now sees rape.

The dark mage moved her hands from Kayle’s hips to the back her shoulders. The sorceress twisted the leash around her hand and pulled, the Demacian neck was pushed back, her body was in a lot of pain but her mind took it as orgasmic. LeBlanc reaches under and pinched the Judicators breast. All strength had gone from her touch. It was LeBlanc who set the pace now. Katarina held still while Kayle’s tongue moves up and down her womanhood on the rhythm of LeBlanc’s thrusts. The aching pleasure in her arse and her face between the assassin’s legs made her feel lightheaded, she panted harder. The heat in the room seemed to increase. They were all sweating now.

The purpled haired Noxian was grunting away happily. Kayle breathes deep. In. Out. Within a split second, she was there again, it's like she never left her cell of torture, she loved it. Time is forgotten. The sorceress thrusting inside of her. She's sure of herself, LeBlanc is always in control. Kayle surrender completely. Before she would scream and begged for it stops, now she craved the pain, she found pleasure in it. All three of them are caught up in the moment, it's like they never left each other. she feels for her mistress, LeBlanc's hands run over the scar on her back from her wings. Kayle sense everything, this immense magnetic field between them. Electricity. But does Kayle like it? She's in denial? Does she regret? Does she recall? Confusion. Midnight Cravings. Like worms crawling and munching all of her insides. It occurs to her ever so often.

A huge wave of revulsion welled up inside of Katarina. She blinked, finding it hard to focus. In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, she shifted her attention away from Draven and Sona, and back to the slave between her legs. Does Kayle want this? She isn’t objecting or fighting back, she’s just miserable, masking this pain as a form of pleasure because it was all she’s knows, even if Kayle denies its the truth is always there. Katarina knew what this was, this was despair. Kayle doesn’t want any of this, her eyes were dead, broken like glass. She was torn down by LeBlanc and now she just broken pieces made to work, lost in her insanity.

“I’ve just about reached my limit~” the sorceress breathed as she pulled on the leash harder, despite the struggles Kayle continued what she was doing. Katarina grunted, her body fighting the orgasm her mind longed for. She knew she needed it, for only then when these thoughts of Lux will leave her.
“Mmm,” the dark mage licked her lips. ‘Yeah, I’m close~”

The Judicator could feel Katarina’s walls stiffen around her tongue, she knew this meant the Noxian was close. The assassin’s hands were pulling on her hair harsher than before, fingers clenching into Kayle’s scalp, hard enough to draw blood. Kayle didn’t mind the pain anymore after all LeBlanc put her through this was nothing. This was love.

“You’re better at this than I thought, LeBlanc must have trained you well, mmm I’m almost there…” Katarina panted, moaning louder. The Noxian kept her green eyes on the slave as her mouth opened moaning deeply, she bucked up into the Demacian, thrusting her sex into Kayle’s mouth as deep as she could as she came hard in her mouth. The thrusts became harder and sloppier inside the angel, Kayle moaned and clenched onto the strap-on as it sent her into a wave of pleasure that blinded her senses until it wore off. The orgasm was long and intense. Seconds later, LeBlanc moaned loudly, she stays inside her slave for a few more moments, thrusting gently.


“That was delightful~” LeBlanc slurred dreamingly as she pulled the strap on out of Kayle and sat down on the couch next to Katarina. They were still naked and sweaty. Kayle was breathing hard, trying to catch her breath, she wondered if she did a good job. Behind them, Sona was already cleaning up Draven’s large manhood with her mouth. She was sitting on her knees, Draven’s cum dripping from her womanhood. From the look on her face, the mute Demacian seemed to have enjoyed it as well.

LeBlanc ran her fingers through Kayle’s white hair, soothing and lovingly. “Very good Casséaile, you’re getting a bath tonight~”

Kayle gazed up at her beautiful face. It felt like when she had to choose a card in her dream, she knew nothing of what was going to occur. Thousands of years it had taken her to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath her duties of being the Judicator. It was all a cruel, needless misunderstanding. A stubborn, self-willed smile that formed on her face. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. Everything was going to be fine. There was a purge, peace, and purgatory. She had found herself. She loved Emilia LeBlanc.

Chapter Text

When they returned LeBlanc was lying in the bathtub in her en suite, the sorceress got to thinking about how she should treat the slave. Rewarding her seemed like the best choice. Since now Casséaile was obedient. She couldn’t believe the thing actually thought she was going to be given away, LeBlanc just needed to control her now that her mind was broken, pain and trauma did serve her well, but fear is where mind control is truly found. Fear always works.

LeBlanc thought she heard noise from the outside. There was a deer standing in the grounds right outside the Manor, its tawny coat a dash of warmth and color against the bleak now summer landscape. The Matron had never seen one so close to the house. It was probably feeling at ease because of the thick mist today. And from the ground floor, it would indeed have been near invisible. But here she had a first class view on it. It was a female. The deer was in her prime, powerful and swift, with an elegant neck and legs that gave her a beautiful fragile look. Her big ears flopped left and right, on the lookout for possible dangers. And suddenly, she looked straight at her. LeBlanc stared back without much of a thought. Seconds ticked away as the dark, sensitive eyes of the doe rested on her. Then she turned around and disappeared in the mist. She blinked. It was like waking up from a dream.

With a strange feeling in her stomach, LeBlanc got up from the tub and walked over to the bed. Her clothes had been laid out, but she couldn’t find her staff anywhere. She had left it in the bathroom.

The Noxian decided to get that first, before dressing. She drink a few cups of wine and thought to go back to the bathroom. She wondered what the slave was up to.

Kayle was mindlessly cleaning the bath that her owner emerged from. Most of the time, she is alone in the dark, with her thoughts. They’re not good or happy or even diverting as they were now. Mostly, she just feels a bland apathy at the situation. Any rage or real fear long ago faded when she finally realized that there would never be anything different, anything more, anything better. There’s no release. She’s just in the cell, on the floor, covered in filth, in dampness, and the only real break in monotony is whether or not the rats come that day.

It’s always horrifying though when she hears footsteps of her mistress, things sounding as if they’re coming through a great sea, so distant and removed are they from any of her immediate concerns. She’s mostly been forgotten of late but that may not last. She’s not sure. It’s easy to forget things here.

Since the angel's mind was completely shattered things like the hour, the day, the month, the year. Even her name sometimes, her real name is lost in the sea of the unknown, who is Kayle? The Demacian has been taught not to allow that name to be said, Kayle did not exist, only Casséaile.

When the door cracks and the sickly stream of light, flickering yellow from the tallow tapers in the corridor, creeps in, her arm instinctively covers her gold eyes, sore from underuse, and she curls tightly, cradling the hand that had been damaged that last time that she’d been unwise enough to cleaner faster in front of LeBlanc.

But when LeBlanc opened the door, she realized she wasn’t alone. “What are you doing here?” she spoke sharply.

Startled, Kayle jumped up. She had been sitting on the edge of the tub, moving her hand dreamily through the steaming water.
“I… I came to clean the bath.” Her voice was hoarse from using it too little.

LeBlanc lifted her hand out and the staff instantly came to her. Luckily, the slave hadn’t noticed it lying there. Or maybe she just couldn’t touch it, with that collar around her neck. LeBlanc eyed her up and down. She had only then remembered she promised to bath Kayle after the visit. “Why haven’t you washed?”

Kayle bowed her head. “Sorry. But I…”

“Sorry, who?”

“Sorry, mistress p-please forgive me.” Kayle seemed so unlike her usual self. “Look at me,” LeBlanc ordered. Kayle did so, fearfully and lovingly.

LeBlanc’s voice is coarse enough, certainly, the lady-like voice bleeding through the carefully constructed woman’s voice blurred a bit by the wine that she’d drained from the cellar after she finished bathing. Tonight it’s sweet, at least.

Kayle was not sure if that’s to the good or to the bad. The slave kept her head down like a dog, the mage steps gingerly into the bathroom, her movements self-consciously cautious. It seemed like the sorceress was slightly intoxicated, she didn’t know it was even possible for the Matron to have an effect on any kind alcohol. LeBlanc turned on the bathroom lights.

A hand angles her face, forcing away the arm so that she must look into the painful light and into the face that looms above her, Kayle was used to some lighting but the light in the bathroom seemed bright enough to blind her. She can barely make out the outline of the mouth, cruel and fleshy, and the close-set eyes that gleam in the low light. Kayle blinks a few times, but can’t do much more than that.

“You’re very obedient, that's good, ” The lips spread slowly into a broad smirk and as she nods, struggling to half-rise, they spread in a grin that seems oddly out of place in such a setting. The hand lets go her chin, and fleshy fingers softly caress Kayle’s cheek, icy from the stones, and another hand helps her into a sitting position. “Thought I’d lost you, Casséaile.” Kayle was as still as she can be, allowing the hands to force her, to manipulate her weakness, and this time, when her lady bends close, she doesn’t pull back. She doesn’t protest.

With a grunt, LeBlanc joins her on the floor, sitting heavily in the filth, lips curling now in distaste. “You haven’t even started cleaning,” she laughs, brushing strands from her finery.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” is all that the Demacian can offer, her voice rusty from long silence. It sounds very small here, even in this close space. “Truly.” Her voice dies away though, as the hand gingerly takes her maimed one, forcing open the palm, and carefully spreading the fingers. One of them is gone now. Kayle can’t remember how that happened. Another has been stripped of the skin, wrapped in linen, and it is this which draws LeBlanc’s attention. The thin fabric is slowly peeled away to reveal the raw meat beneath and when the air hits it, a shudder cuts through her body and she pulls away.

“Would you hide from me, Casséaile? Your mistress who loves you so?” The voice is so soft, loving almost, and the other hand cups her face again, squeezing her chin like a vise, and Emilia LeBlanc leans in, cheek brushing hers. “I came to do you a kindness and this is how you repay me?” It degrades into a throaty chuckle and the gentleness dissipates. The pain is almost unbearable now.

“No, my lady. Never. I’m yours, you know that.” There is a small part, deep down, that flares up at such moments, in her mind this was all real, some part of her doubted those words but she must believe them. There’s nothing else to do but sit there, bony hips aching against the even stones, face flushing as the sorceress’s smooth hands squeeze it, and she doesn’t dare to breathe as those lips meet hers, as the tongue penetrates her trembling mouth, as teeth graze her cracked lips when she returns for more. “I’m yours,” Kayle murmurs, believing every word, she knew it was that. The truth. "Always yours. Your Casséaile.”

The Judicator thinks of her finger, how it throbs, the pink flesh mottled with red, speckled with bits of yellow. As long as that’s in the front of her mind, she won’t think about the other thing. Kayle won’t think about the mage’s body pressed against hers, the violating mouth, the cruel hands gripping her, or the dagger pressing against her body.
She especially won’t think of that. Just the pain. The pain and the dark. The pain was mercy, mercy was all she needed. The pain was also pleasure and Kayle needed more of it.

“Of course you are,” the voice is gentle again, and so are the hands as they splay her fingers in the low light. She wonders what is to come when they suddenly drop away, and when she sees the knife gleaming, she draws in her breathe slightly.

“We will take care of it for you, won’t we?” Her lady takes her hand again, flattening it against the bathroom floor, and the agony intensifies, her blood pounding in her ears. She feels the edge of the blade against it, and it’s cool and almost soothing. But the sweetness fades as a finger runs down the length and the blood flares in Kayle’s head almost to bursting. A wordless moan escaped her lips as the slow tracery continues down the length of the ruined part.
Her gold eyes are wet somehow.

“Please.” It’s all she can say. “Please.”

“Please what?” is the only reply and the finger presses, just enough to cause her to make that hideous sound again. Kayle breath hitches in her chest and she chokes, the cough racking her thin body.

“ lady.” It’s all the angel can do to get the words out. It’s barely a whisper but it is enough. LeBlanc grins, positioning the dagger and the finger slides away. When the blade cuts through she barely feels it, just sudden wetness, a draining, a lightness, and overwhelming relief. Her face is wet now too. It flowed out of the limp body and splattered onto the floor. It seemed into every corner of the room and made the once beauty of the bathroom floor was ruined by the gore of the red, flowing blood.

The Demacians hand is tightly bound once more, and when everything is in order, arms encircle her slight form, laying her in the straw again, placing her hand on her chest, brushing the straw and the muck from her rags.

Kayle feels the heat of her body as the Noxian leans over her. The lips brush her once more, then her cheek. “Aren’t you grateful?” Kayle can smell the wine on her sweet breath and it’s enough to cause her gorge to rise, but she suppresses it. After all, it wouldn’t do.

She nods. She can’t manage much more. But then she does find the words. “Thank you, mistress” she whispers. “Thank you, mistress.”

Then it’s cold again because LeBlanc rises, her shadow blocking the hateful light. Another mercy.

“You’ll do well to remember this,” LeBlanc says gently, admiring the blood that stains the channel of her dagger. She usually preferred magic for cutting fingers off but this dagger could do the same.

“Of course I w-will. Mistress is so g-good to me, so me-merciful, Casséaile is so grateful for mistress’s kindness,” Kayle stuttered tearfully as she was smiling, her gold eyes fell on her left ring finger, which was now gone.

LeBlanc chuckled at her broken state, “How many fingers do you have now?”

The angel's eyes counted each finger, her left ring finger and her right pinky were the only two missings. “Eight...I have eight fingers, my lady”

The matron patted the girl on the head, “Good girl, Casséaile.” She praised. "Very smart indeed."

Slowly, the angel raised her head. She was as obedient as ever. Her eyes were broken. They were those of an injured animal. The life had gone out of them, and all that was left was pain and sorrow. LeBlanc’s amber eyes scanned to the tub beside them, she still had to bath the slave.

“Why haven’t you washed?” she repeated the slave question, hoping she would notice the kindness in her voice.

“You never gave me permission to do so, my lady,” Kayle answered softly.

LeBlanc looked at her feet. Her paralyzed legs were blue. Purple, almost, from crawling on the cold stone floors of the Manor. The skin on her legs was covered with goosebumps. She was shivering in the awful thin rags she was wearing. The blood flowing from her amputated finger did make her appear more filthy than when her wings were torn off. Behind her, the steam from the tub rose lazily towards the ceiling.

“You may use the bath,” LeBlanc heard herself say.

A little light appeared in the depths of Kayle’s gold eyes. “Mistress?”

The sorceress smiled then shrugged. “I did promise you I would let you take a bath and the water is still warm."

Kayle cast a wanting glance at the milky-white water, and a strange feeling welled up inside of her, she could finally bath. LeBlanc had never noticed how lovely the line of her neck was. How elegantly it connected with her jaw and then mellowed into the curve of her cheek. She could clearly see the Judicators desire to get in the tub. How she craved the warmth, her skin probably tingling with expectation.

Kayle felt her breathing pick up. Her heart was beating with slow, powerful beats now, throbbing against her ribs. There was something very intimate about the fact she would use the same water her mistress just had. That a minute from now, she would be naked in there.

“You are too filthy to bath like this….get in the shower and wash it all off,” the matron ordered, pointing to the shower beside the bath.

There was a moment of strained silence, while they stood opposite one another.

Then LeBlanc whispered: “Well, get in.”

Fear crept into her eyes, as it slowly dawned on Kayle that she expected her to take her clothes off in front of her mistress after her amputation. It didn’t bother her so much that she would be naked, she has been nude around her mistress far too much to count, it was her going in the bath with a newly severed finger.

LeBlanc’s head tilted. The realization that the slave would bath covered in blood was an erotic sight. It fed into the other sensation too. The one that had her wondering what her skin would feel like in the bath after months of neglect.

Kayle hesitated. LeBlanc could see her eyes getting moist as the collar slowly started to contract.

She inadvertently held her breath. In sympathy, almost. But she flicked her staff and repeated: “Get in. Now.”

The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred options she can choose to regulate water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges. Kayle was amazed by it, when she was mortal she and Morgana took baths together until they were ten, this almost felt like it.

The Judicator crawled into the shower, fingers flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. Her mind was in shreds; it felt almost too good to finally clean herself, a right had become a privilege. She turned the dial, old and metallic, releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening her white hair and trickled down her back. The hot water fell onto the open wounds including the severed finger, she moaned from the stinging pain that was delivered onto her whole body. The pain was unpleasantly warm and felt as if tiny needles were pricking into the wounds. Her eyes fell closed over and over, each time showing the blood mixing into the water and going down the drain, dark watery colors were falling from her body, probably all the filthy she contracted the months she spent here. The water coming down felt like warm rain, one she could stand outside and layin. The water droplets fall as if they can barely be bothered to conform to the will of gravity. When Kayle holds her bare arm out of the shower they splatter on her outstretched fingers made all the dryer by rubbing it around her dismembered finger. They are large and soft. Kayle tilts her fingers upwards and watches the remnants of the drops run downwards like tiny rivers. If this is the way showers are here she could get used to it real fast; even the sound on the water hitting her skin is comforting. With a half smile the Demacian lightly scratched her head, she was surprised she never contracted lice while she was here.

Kayle removed herself from the shower and crawled on. Instead of struggling with knots in her wet hair, Kayle merely places her hand on a box that sends a current through her scalp, untangling, parting, and drying her hair almost instantly.

LeBlanc had been watching her the whole time, her eyes staring the slave down like a predator would stare at a prey.

“Get in the bath.”

The bathtub was fashioned from stone and laid out in a smooth way. It was just big enough for five grown men to sit in and the water was hot and steamy. Kayle coughed as the collar closed around her throat like an iron fist. She resisted the command a moment longer, gasping for breath. LeBlanc knew she would obey but she simply wanted to hurt her. Then, with a glint of the old defiance in her eyes, she began to remove her clothes. LeBlanc watched as she saw the angel’s abused body, the body that she abused.

Kayle crawled and pulled herself up to sit in the bath. Steam billowed around her, giving her a mysterious look. Her skin had the same creamy color as the water in the tub. She was completely filthy but still, she commanded: “Wash yourself.”

Immediately, Kayle turned sideways and dipped a cloth into the water. She bent down so deep she could see a glimpse of her sex between her bruised thighs. Her nipples broke the surface of the water, and when she came back up, milky droplets ran from her nipples down to her belly and legs. She wrung out the cloth, but not enough, and it made a wet, slapping noise when she put it on her chest. Filth began to wash down from the cloth.

"Look at me,” she ordered.

The angel obeyed, looking directly at her, and then slowly started running the cloth over her breasts. She had a nice pair. Not very big, but a nice handful anyway, and of a lovely plump shape. Her nipples were pink and they blossomed like little rose-buds under the touch of the cloth. They rose up, all stiff and shiny, like LeBlanc had just given them a good polish with her mouth. Her breasts were dripping wet too. LeBlanc could vaguely see veins tracing underneath. So delicate and pure was her skin the scars and bruises were her personal touch. She pushed her arms inwards, making her tits squeezed together, slippery and supple. The nipples were right next to each other now, pointing straight at the sorceress. Inviting her to take them both into her mouth at the same time. But she stayed where she was. LeBlanc was a patient woman, she didn’t always need to ravish the slave.

“Clean yourself, Casséaile.”

She let the cloth trail the soft curve of her belly, all the way down towards her womanhood.

“Clean that area too. Heavens forbid you to keep that dirty,” LeBlanc chuckled.

Kayle blushed and pressed down on the cloth and moaned when it released a gulp of warm water on her sex. Her thighs glistened with all the wetness.

“Keep going,” she ordered. “Keep looking at me.”

Without taking her eyes off her mistress, she cleaned herself. During her three months here LeBlanc did let her use the bathroom once a day and required her to only clean her womanhood, obviously, it was only for her own gratification. Still, LeBlanc was merciful.

“More water,” LeBlanc said in a lust filled tone.

She leaned back and dipped the cloth in the bathtub again. And this time she didn’t wring it out at all. Soaking wet she put it on her womanhood, she moaned under her breath and LeBlanc smirked when she heard it.

“Now… touch yourself.”

With a sigh, Kayle started pleasuring herself with the cloth. She passed it along the inside of her thighs, between her arse, over her hole and her sex. Milky water dripped down from it onto the bathroom floor. She licked her lips and panted desperately as LeBlanc made her pass over it again and again. Her breasts jiggled to the rhythm she was rubbing herself with. She was clearly ashamed, but she couldn’t deny the way her body was reacting. She was getting a rosy hue all over. Her cheeks, the palms of her hands and her feet, her stiff nipples, the place where her arse pressed against the edge of the bathtub. An idea crossed the sorceress’s mind, she knew that now Kayle could finally have an orgasm from being in pain but she wondered for how long.

“Casséaile, hurt yourself more and don’t stop even if you’re bleeding.”

Kayle nodded and began to play with herself more, she pushed three fingers into her sex, she pushed in and out and set a pace, the pain in her sex but an aching one and one she felt all too often when she was raped but she couldn’t stop. The Judicator was now panting and pushed her fingers in even after blood was dripping into the tub, either from her severed finger or her hymen breaking again, the angel didn’t stop. But when she threw her head back and her moans became more high-pitched, Leblanc ordered her flatly to stop.

She flashed the woman an angry look, she stopped and regained a more decent pose on the edge of the tub. Her chest was heaving, and she looked more than a little putout.
LeBlanc waited until she calmed down. Then she kneeled down in front of her. LeBlanc didn’t have to give her any commands anymore. Willingly, she let her push her knees apart. She looked at her womanhood for a moment, letting the desire build. Then LeBlanc slowly pushed her mouth against it. She let out a long, luxurious moan as the sorceress buried her face deeper into her sex and flicked out her tongue. Her womanhood was perfect. Soft, supple, wet. Carefully, she started nipping and licking at the rosy and blood covered flesh. She was delicious. LeBlanc could run her up and down with her tongue all day. Rewarding slaves with her mouth was not something she commonly did but Casséaile was a good slave. When she sucked Kayle’s clit between her lips, the Demacian jolted, gasping in pleasure. She grabbed her thighs and pushed them upwards, positioning her legs over her shoulders. Kayle lay completely open to her mistress now, her sex utterly defenseless. She slipped a finger in, then two, while she kept sucking on her clit. Groaning, she pulled LeBlanc’s face closer. She was soaking wet, and not from the water. Kayle’s saltiness covered her mouth and chin and nose. The sorceress relished her taste, pumping her fingers up and down. LeBlanc was dripping wet herself. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She pulled back and Kayle uttered a panicked yelp, pushing her hips upwards, desperate to find the pressure she had so brutally taken away from her. But instead of dropping her towel to the ground and just taking her, she got her staff out and turned it around. She put her thumb on the slave's clit and then slid five inches of her staff inside of the girl with the blunt side first. Kayle was terribly tight, and even with all the wetness, it was difficult to get it in completely. Blood was dripping down and Kayle was ecstatic from it. She squealed and grunted, straining to take it all. Leblanc tilted the staff upwards, searching for her G-spot. She knew she had found it when her arms started to quiver, her hips and back making riding movements on the wand. Smiling, she started making circular movements on her clit with her thumb, while she pulled the staff in and out of her with quick, short thrusts. The skin around her opening stuck to the surface of the staff a little bit, making her hole open and close all while she was moaning and kissing LeBlanc, letting the Matron slip her tongue in and dominate her. The Noxian couldn’t stop looking at it. It was positively mesmerizing. She whimpered while she continued to lay waste to her clit and her pussy. Her wetness increased and the wand moved ever easier. LeBlanc knew she was about to come. Quickly, the woman looked up, not wanting to miss her expression when the moment was finally there. Above her, her breast heaved and bounced on the rhythm of her thrusts, slapping into each other with wet sounds. LeBlanc drank in the look on her face as she begged: “Ah...Please…” She breathed in, her moans filled the room and LeBlanc couldn’t get enough of it, she was putting the girl through pain and the little thing was enjoying it. Kayle moaned and kissed LeBlanc more until she screamed in her mouth and came.

Kayle uttered a long, strangled moan, as her juices and blood gushed over LeBlanc’s hand, her stomach and the tub was quiet. A thin layer of sweat covered her body and made her eyes sting. She swallowed, coughing, as she tried to regain control of her breathing. LeBlanc pulled away from the slave and looked down at her hand, it was covered in blood and juices. She smirked and kissed Kayle on the head before stepping back and pulling out of her.

“Well done, Casséaile. You can finally come from this,” she started lifting her blood covered fingers to the girl, her amber eyes looked back to the dismembered finger on the floor. “You can relax for a little while in the bath, then you clean up that mess over there.”

LeBlanc wiped her finger on a nearby towel and walked back to her room to get dressed, leaving the angel alone in the bathroom. Kayle leaned back against the tub and rested her head, she sighed to herself and thought of something else.

The water is cold now, nothing she can do about that. In winter it will be worse. She doesn’t fight the cold feeling even though her flesh is already goose-bumped. Her backside is nothing but rash, broken, even bleeding in places and it extends a little down her legs. Painful no doubt. Kayle begins to cry as she washes over it, different from before, higher pitched and again she reaches for someone to hold her, but no one is there. Alone she sits in the cold bath with her thoughts, she sinks herself deeper in the tub, watching the water move along with her movements, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on the soap. Her gold eyes are steady to the water, face aglow with the rose and soapy smell of the bath that filled the room and soothed her mind. Her lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that she is enjoying her thoughts, whatever they may be. Kayle moves her hand on the surface of the water and moved it closer so that she feels the soap and foam against her skin, yet stays quiet, allowing her to stay lost in the moment a while longer.

All of the noise disappeared in an instant. It was like being stuck between two realities: one that was imperfect, but doable. The other the vision where she pictured herself in, the one she longed herself to be a part of. Was is a possibility to make that world into reality? The only thing that separated her from achieving the dream was herself. The angel looked down at her legs in the water, her skin picked up a tingly sensation in the water and it felt as if she could move her legs again. Unaware of her own heart beating or the rise and fall of her chest, she drifted into semi-consciousness. The drone of the sounds outside was as good as a lullaby to the wingless angel. She would never relax with all that still quietness or loud noises. The soft sounds outside filled her head with soothing thoughts and the water under her legs felt like she was laying on clouds. Back in Demacia, Kayle would always lay on the clouds and relax after a long day of passing judgment, now being in this tub with her legs stripped away remind her of just that. An incense stick burned at her open window, some lavender drifted out to meet the spring air and just the right amount stayed in the room, just a hint. Her mind had long gone relaxed and it was later than she suspected. When she opened her heavy lids the room was already twilight and the candles had extinguished themselves.

Kayle sighed to herself and looked down at her fingers, the bleeding on her ring finger had stopped but it still bothered her how she had no idea her pinky was gone for a while now, judging by the wounds she suspected she lost it during the illusion. Her gold eyes next looked at her feet under the water, in what almost felt like a trance she stared at one of her toes and thought to herself how long will this go on until she can regain her legs again. Kayle’s hands moved on the top of the water and made small moves with her hand. When the small bath wave reached the end of the tub where her feet were she felt a small shock from the cold water that caused her to jump up. It was more than just a slight tingle that ran underneath the Judicator skin. No, it was as though someone had attached a live wire to each of her nerves, and her body convulsed as the violent electrical current pulsed through her legs. Kayle moved in discomfort from the sudden shock and that's when she noticed it….she had managed to move her legs.

Chapter Text

Morgana thought everything that had happened to her sister was all just. Kayle deserved all of this, she would not save her sister from this fate. Still, she felt like the death of their father and the many humans Kayle had murdered was not what caused their relationship to break apart, there was something else. Something the girls hide back in their subconscious and masked it through other emotions to hide the truth, disregarding Morgana did not know it until later in the week.

During her visit to General Du Couteau manor, she noticed Kayle acted differently than the last time she saw her. The elder twin looked slightly better but still appeared battered and dead on the inside. She seemed a hollow shell of what she once was as if LeBlanc took that part of her that is broken and make it a ghost, a ghost that falls away and nothing. What remains is an emptiness desperate to be filled with some compassion.

The dark angel was sitting in the living room with General Du Couteau, Talon, Vladimir, Fiora, Draven, and Sona. Cassiopeia and Vayne had just left when Katarina and Luxanna arrived, only for the assassin and Talon to be taken somewhere else along with Lux, but Morgana didn’t pay too much attention to that. While she did sneak a few looks and had some conversations with Talon she was focused on her sister’s current state, Kayle was trembling like she didn’t want to be near anyone. The heat from her fingers creeps into Morgana’s consciousness and it seemed like Kayle did not want to engage her twin in any sort of conversation, she didn’t even look at her during the visit. It was like an unwanted touch of sympathy. So long without it that Kayle doesn’t want it anymore. It’s an invasion, an unwanted intimacy. Kayle looked like she needs someone who craves her cuddles and wants nothing more than to wipe away her tears - replace the suffering that she endured. After a few seconds, more the urge is too strong and Morgana takes her fingers back, picking up her wine again and sipping it. The Judicators bottom lip trembles and she gestures for it back. Nothing Morgana can do to help her.

It was only then the fallen angel noticed that LeBlanc had left the room, leaving her slave alone for a while. Morgana thought she could use this time to talk to her twin but shook her head from the thought, she turned to Vladimir and begun a conversation with the vampire on chess and other board games.

The bacchanalia only proved her point. When the dark angel arrived she more focused on her inner thoughts then conversations with the other guest. Morgana was thinking of her past when she was mortal, so many good and bad memories she picked up in her childhood. Memoires that left a bitter taste in her mouth and made her mood all the more gloomy.

“How did I get here?”

That was the question Morgana asked herself, again and again, during that seemingly endless summer day. It wasn’t inspired by self-pity. Just a rational, almost philosophical query. Which decisions had led her here, to this exact point in time? Which twisted junctions in life? What awful, doomed fate? A hundred years ago, if she had been given a glimpse of herself as she was now, what could she have done differently? Should she have forgiven Kayle and attempted to form some family relationship with her?

She looked around the room. Night had fallen, and she was sitting in the living room in LeBlanc’s manor, the roaring fire in the hearth the only source of light. LeBlanc, Thresh, and Cassiopeia were sitting in the chairs around her, their servants at their beck-and-call. Other Black Rose members and none members had been present, too, initially. But they had all slinked away at one point or another, in pursuit of their own entertainment. They were all gleeful about the upcoming fights in the arena the following day and Morgana had no idea whether she would attend the fights or not, mindless bloodshed was not something she took favor in. Not that it mattered, rule of chaos had taken over the Manor.

She felt strange. Numb. Like her emotions weren’t getting through anymore. She hadn’t touched a drop of liquor all evening, yet her mind was on another plane entirely. She could almost see herself sitting there as if watching the scene from above, her chained wings and body slumped in the chair, her face a mask of light and shadow in the firelight. Completely detached from herself.
The portrait of a sadist.

But then they were all sadist, here…

After the final slave trading had freshened up, the feast had continued inside the Manor. Drinks first, then dinner. One exquisite course after the other was served at the long table set up in the dining hall. No, Morgana hadn’t enjoyed her dinner at all. It wasn’t that she had felt sick. She just felt cut off from everything, dried out, sort of. Like she was slowly fading, her heart a dark, dead mass in her chest. It felt like she was hurting for her sister, but why should she care for Kayle? Kayle deserved all of this, her sister was always a psychopath, why should she pity her?

As the evening progressed, things inside had begun getting less and less cohesive too. The majority of the guests had been aching to let loose, high on food and drink and killing. The air was heavy with it. Soon —as early as they could without being considered suspect or impolite— all the somewhat decent people had started heading home and remembered how jealous she had felt when she saw her sister at LeBlanc’s side. She thought to go home but then decided to stay a little while. She didn’t plan to leave. Not anytime soon.

LeBlanc, picking up on the atmosphere in the dining hall, had decided to retreat to the other rooms with a couple of her closest confidants, for wine and brandy. The day had gone well, there was nothing more to prove or to put to the test for who could be the most depraved. The guest needed to unwind now, and she knew they’d never be able to fully do that in her presence. So she drew back, allowing the main feast to run its due course. And to unwind a little herself, no doubt.

“How did I get here?” Morgana asked herself again, as she sat in the big chair in the living room, LeBlanc and Thresh in their own chairs on either side, Cassiopeia across from them.

She glanced at the warden, on the other side of the fireplace. He was sitting in a high-backed green armchair, feeding Lucian little pieces of coffee-drenched biscuit. He sat kneeling between the monster's legs, and Thresh was mumbling little words to him, their faces so close it was like watching a pair of lovers. A very deranged pair of lovers, but still. Thresh giggled softly, almost girlishly from time to time, and Lucian was clearly getting more aroused by the minute. His master watched as he chewed the last piece of biscuit, bit his lip, then raised his leg and pricked the heel of his boot deep in the Demacians thigh. He grunted at the feel of the pain, sharp and burning, and a shudder of pleasure went through his body. Lucian sent him a grateful, pleading look. Morgana didn’t know if Lucian was capable of forming words anymore, after all, that he had suffered. But his face made it pretty clear what he wanted.

Please, Master, more.

Thresh’s deranged eyes gleamed in the firelight. Morgana recognized lust there, too. But the warden seemed to have difficulties with actual intimacy. His chest heaved as if he was battling with himself, before he slowly, hesitantly, kissed the man. Lucian leaned forward even further now, his whole body, his whole face overcome with the enormity of this privilege that was being bestowed on him, for the very first time.

Morgana gaze trailed over Lucian’s muscular body, the way his abs moved as he breathed, his sweaty, scarred skin shining in the light of the flames. That animal-like quality he possessed these days. Then his manhood, long and hard under his loincloth. The creature's hand was upon him now, the fingers running along his chest and stomach, nails clawing fine lines. He didn’t take his eyes off him. His mouth was open, lips slightly parted. Thresh’s willing victim, his obedient slave, his malleable piece of flesh and muscle and bone.

Take me, Master...

But he couldn’t, of course. He was too deranged.

“Madam” Thresh whispered, without moving a muscle, only his eyes shifting to LeBlanc, who sat in the chair across from him. “Madam, may I make a request?” His voice sounded stifled, choked.

LeBlanc gestured he could.

His face split into a grin. “Can we have the slaves mate again?”

Immediately, Kayle, who had been sitting at LeBlanc's feet, turned to her mistress, one hand on her lap, her expression just as eager as Thresh’s.

LeBlanc took a deep breath like this was all very inconveniencing, and the creature and slave craned their necks, their muscles tensing with expectation. “I suppose we could,” she sighed. “What do you think, Cassiopeia?”

“I think it’s a great idea, Madam.” Cassiopeia had Vayne in her lap, and she was caressing the Demacian’s hair with slow, admiring strokes. “Just what we need, right now, I say.” She gave Vayne an oily smile.

“Morgana?” The Matron inquired.

“I don’t care, either way,” Morgana heard herself answer, as if from very far away.

Did she?

She was so far gone she didn’t even know anymore. She just felt so tired.

LeBlanc sighed again, like a much troubled but benevolent mother. “Well then. I see the majority has decided.”

Thresh laughed with joy. Vayne kept silent, but her face portrayed the exact same emotion.

She had turned into such a shrewd, sly little number, Morgana considered. It was almost interesting from a purely perspective to see the extent of the influence the half-snakes' personality had on hers. In a way, she was still like her old self: a determine, loyal force in the background. But the direction of that force had been changed radically from supporting Demacia to cheering all the things the snake Noxian stood for. She all but worshipped the ground she slithered on. Vayne was the perfect evil little sidekick. A hybrid, between the zeal of the Demacia and Noxus. Despite losing her eye to the woman she seemed to worship her. Morgana couldn’t help but wonder how Kayle would have fared if she’d been taken by Cassiopeia instead. Somehow, she refused to believe she’d be in the same state Vayne was in now.

Kayle was this never this quiet as she was now. She was never that quiet. Intelligent, yes. Strong, too. And stubborn! But never quiet. Never obedient. Now her sister was an entirely new person. If Morgana had bought her she highly doubt Kayle would ever listen or obey her, she couldn’t even harm the angel as LeBlanc did, it seemed perfect for LeBlanc to buy Kayle.

“Strip,” Thresh said, his riding crop underneath Lucian’s chin. He obeyed him without blinking. His large member gleamed big and brown and wet, softly bobbing up and down for sheer want of him. Lucian tried to push up closer, lean into Thresh again, but he swatted him away, waving his claws in front of his face. “No, no. Look over there, my pet. I got a treat for you!”

Lucian turned his head and saw Vayne step forward, her frail frame outlined against the fire. He looked at his master again, hopeful.

“Yes, you can have her,” Thresh nodded. “Go ahead. Go and fuck her.”

Lucian turned to Vayne.

They smiled at each other; lustful, evil little smiles. Lucian’s energy was completely different now he was interacting with a woman than Thresh. The longing submission had made way for an almost beastly prowess. He stood up straight, his arms beside his body, the muscles in his shoulders tense, everything about him breathing power and agility. Vayne held his gaze, her body curving in anticipation. Two predators, circling each other.

Lucian made the first move. He grabbed her by the arm and roughly pulled her towards him. Vayne gasped, her smile widening. No kisses, no foreplay. Vayne grunted and squealed as Lucian flipped her over and ripped off her dress, then unceremoniously pushed her down on all fours.

Vayne was breathing heavily with anticipation now, becoming increasingly more desperate. She pushed her sex tighter in Lucian’s lap, looking back at him, imploring him to hurry up and stick himself in her already.

Lucian finally came to the correct conclusion. He spits in his hand and moistened her, then parted her legs and thrust inside her womanhood.

She screamed with joy as he pounded deep in her, his member thrusting at a fast pace with wet noises at each thrust.

“Deeper!" Thresh ordered, and he whipped his slave's ass with the riding crop, hard.

The man groaned and pushed deeper, and Vayne groaned too.

“Go in deeper.”

Another slap, harder than the first.

“Faster! Harder! Don't stop!”

The whippings followed more quickly now. Thresh was really letting loose as if he wanted to punish Lucian for the feelings he was arousing inside of him. His arse was slowly turning red, the buttocks showing fiery marks where the crop had cut into it. He grabbed Vayne by the hair and pulled her head back, their joined panting sounding in crescendo. Cassiopeia chuckled and licked her lips as she was watching her slave get ravished like some animal.

Where LeBlanc was sitting, she pulled Kayle to her lap and was touching her. “Do you see that?” LeBlanc oozed. “How his asshole opens and closes when he’s fucking? Do you like that? Do you want that, Casséaile?” The sorceress was rolling one of Kayle’ nipples between her thumb and index-finger, drool pooling in the corner of her mouth. It was only then Morgana noticed Kayle was missing two fingers, but she still couldn’t take her eyes off her sister. “Hm, what nice pale, scarred skin you have, Casséaile,” she hissed. “I love it!” LeBlanc gave the nipple a lick, then started sucking it as her hand moved to Kayle’ crotch. LeBlanc really had trained her well. Kayle just shut her eyes tight and let her mistress slip two fingers into her. The dark angel eyes were staring at her sister's womanhood. Upon a closer look, she noticed her sister's hymen was still visible, Morgana blinked to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. When Kayle was getting gang raped she could have sworn she saw blood drip between her legs. LeBlanc noticed the confusion on the angel's face and smiled.

In spite of herself, Morgana stared. Shocked, she turned to Emilia.

“Oh, that,” LeBlanc explained when she saw Morgana’s expression. “It appears that angels purity always returns to them, imagine my shock and pleasure when I discovered this. Casséaile is of passionate disposition, and I don’t want to take any risks. Having a virgin’s blood at the ready is such a luxury. It’s required in so many interesting spells, and I always felt it adds a little something to many potions too, wouldn’t you agree?"

Morgana thought about it and nodded, it does make plenty sense but her hymen didn’t reattach as did her twins. She assumed since she was considered a fallen angel that pure would be the last thing she was. It was something that Kayle went on about how they needed to keep themselves pure and Morgana snickered now seeing her sister enjoying such debauchery. It was amusing really, hours ago she was pitying her sister now she was finding pleasure in the sight of her being touched. It reminded her of when she was in Noxus having sex with many men at the same time and even with LeBlanc.

Thresh stopped the whipping now, as abruptly as he had started it, and Lucian uttered a long, strangled sigh, both with regret and relief alike. "Well done, my pet,” he soothed, stroking the Demacian underneath his chin. He looked up at the warden in complete surrender, as he continued fucking Vayne with slow, nearly exhausting movements. Shauna whimpered in a complaint, feeling she was almost near the climax, but needing more from him still.

“We’re almost there, my pet,” Thresh encouraged him. “That’s a good boy.”

The creature patted him on the head, then turned the whip around and pushed it up to his bottom. He wailed as the knot passed his sphincter, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Slowly, Thresh started fucking him with it, and his buttocks twitched and jerked helplessly each time the leather pushed in deeper. He pulled out from her womanhood and thrusted himself in her arse. More blood rushed to his cock, stretching Vayne’s asshole wider, her breast bouncing on the rhythm of his hard thrusting until they were both breathing in hoarse, loud heaves.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Morgana found the sight to be an arousing one and decided to turn her attention somewhere else. All around the guest were engaged in some sort of sexual activity and she couldn’t take her eyes off them. Fiora was spread out on the table, topped with a variety of fruits, whipped cream and chocolate sauce, like a human ice-cream sundae. People, men, and women alike were swarming around her, eating and licking things off of her naked body. After they were finished Vladimir crawled on top of the table and begun to fuck her, Fiora just closed her eyes and pretended she was somewhere else without putting up a fight against the vampire. Quinn was sucking a sliver of tangerine straight from her sex, and she arched her back and moaned as Sion let his tongue play around as Elise was thrusting one of her spider legs in her arse, it looked incredibly painful and judging by her expression it certainly was.

In the corner, Sona was hungrily sucking on a nobles member, her dress tight over her pregnant belly, while Draven was mounting her from behind. The whole place stunk of sex and blood and booze, and beneath it, all lay that sickly odor, the bodily fluids smell that came from the slaves and that penetrated everything.

After the angel was wet enough, LeBlanc decided it was time, too. She lifted her dress and summoned a large toy to penetrate the slave with, then pulled Kayle’s rags up, shifted until Kayle was in the right position, and pushed the girl’s arse down on her. The wingless angel moaned quietly, her gold eyes half-open with her tongue was sticking out with a lewd look. As the sex toy burrowed itself into her sister. Kayle’s own womanhood, already dripping wet from the fingering, dripped further under the stimulation, her body betraying her in the most awful way or so she thought. Kayle was actually enjoying the rough sex, she was moaning, panting and kissing LeBlanc like she was the only woman that mattered in the world. Last time, Kayle was cursing at LeBlanc and was begging her to stop the rape and it was finished the sorceress branded her with the black rose crest. Now she was utterly depended on the Noxian mage. Morgana's eyes were soaked on the scene, the way her sister looked, the sounds she was making, Morgana actually felt her own sex dripping wet with desire as she continued to watch. When it was done. Kayle kneeled before LeBlanc. The Matron that was her mistress had her smooth legs parted wide, as she pushed her head deep into her womanhood and pleasured her.
Near the fire, Cassiopeia lifted Vayne away from Lucian and positioned her tail to her sex, she pushed in the scaley tail and thrust more of it deeper in her womanhood.

Morgana got up off her chair. She didn’t care if it was suspect or not. She found it difficult to sit there and watch without any participation and didn’t dare think to engage with any of them. She saw Talon in the corner minding his own business and ignoring all that was happening around him.“Please excuse me, Ma’am,” she mumbled to LeBlanc without looking at her sister that was between the sorceress's legs.

“I’m going to see if I can find Talon.”

“Ah yes,” LeBlanc smiled, almost meekly. “Boring, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I understand. I don’t care for any of this stuff either. But we have to throw the rabble a bone now and again, don’t we?”

It wasn’t clear if she meant Cassiopeia and Thresh, or Vayne and Lucian. Probably the lot, for they were all having an equally good time. Even her own slave seemed to enjoy serving her mistress.

“Although Thresh can be quite inspiring,” LeBlanc continued, running her fingers through Kayle’s white hair as she let out a soft moan. “He has a whole variety of special tricks to make one’s juices or blood flowing. A true master of pain, if ever there was one.” Her amber eyes flashed at Morgana, seemingly piercing right through her. “Are you inspired, Morgana? Or does sin better suit your taste then pain?”

Morgana didn’t know what to answer to that. Sin and pain were the same things and they would all suffer for it in the eternal flames, that was something Kayle would believe, Morgana, wondered if she still believed it. When finally the dark angel is at hell's gate she let her lust and forbidden desires rise to the surface. This is where she gets to flourish in her mistakes, her sins, and she is glad. She can't feel the heat of the flames that coat her periphery but she will and Morgana wanted to sink deeper in the debauchery, to feel the pain she must have inflicted on others in her immortal life. She didn’t want to hide from it, She wants to own it. she never expected this is where it takes her, not ever, but she can’t but enjoy it. Morgana won't be excused her mistakes through the suffering she put her twin through.

Just when she thinks the flames of her sins will finally come for her and she will feel the blistering - they are gone. There is no pain at all and she is just felt here. Morgana finds herself staring at her sisters instead of her Matron. Part of the dark angel feels cheated, she wanted to hurt Kayle in the same manner that LeBlanc has and all she got was this forbidden desire in her. Perhaps they could no longer be hidden.

“Are you planning to seek out Talon, perhaps?” LeBlanc ventured, with a chilling smile. “You prefer some time alone with him to satisfy your own needs, hm? From what I hear, you’re not the type for sharing, now are you?”

Morgana looked into her porcelain face, but she didn’t feel fear or shame. She didn’t feel that anymore. She felt lust.

“My Matron,” she whispered, “I must confess: you read my mind.”

LeBlanc smirked and nodded, “I see,” She grabbed the roots of Kayle’s white hair and pushed her away before standing up. “Well then, Casséaile needs to see her master~”

Morgana walked over to where Talon was standing and stood beside him for a few minutes. The dark angel didn’t immediately speak to him as she was trapped in her own mind, she wondered if he was even interested in women. Talon always struck her as an asexual man, one that was not interested in men or women, she had even heard she had not touched his slave, Shyvana.

Morgana wondered, with all these feelings whether she was taking it out on others to distract her from the one person she wanted. She was so consumed by it, by her thoughts, that she didn’t see the assassin noticing her.

“I’m not a fan of these sort of parties,” Talon started. “Never one to stick myself in a woman in front of everyone.”

“Everyone is different,” she sighed. “Some of these people bring up some memories shall we say.”

“You were with LeBlanc, right?” He answered his own question. The assassin took another sip from his glass, then nodded. “Of course, you were. You’re really in the inner circle now, aren’t you?” He breathed in, leaning his back against the wall. He downed the rest of the liquid and threw his glass to pieces on the stairs. “Mmm,” he sighed. Morgana watched him, she never really knew the Noxian all that well but she didn’t need to if she wanted to share the night with one, “You don’t enjoy the company of a woman, do you?” She licked her lips and pushed up even closer, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Talon shrugged and blushed, “Say I’ve been thinking about it…”

It was enough for Morgana to grab him by the hand and lead him into another room. Thankfully, there were no more people in the corridor on the first floor. But there was a soft buzz of noise, coming from a room halfway. Morgana knew that room. And she knew what she would find there, too. The smell of cigars wafted towards her as she and Talon approached. The door was open just a crack. She didn’t need to look. But Talon did, anyway.

General Du Couteau was there, there were other high ranking Noxians and a couple of others from the Black Rose. And smack in the middle sat the grand general Jericho Swain, with Kayle riding in his lap the best she could in her condition. She was the shining focal point, her naked skin pale as if bathed in moonlight, her hair white in the bluish haze of the cigars. She had her head in her neck, her eyes closed and her mouth opens in silent panting, as Swain’s manhood mercilessly thrust in and out of her. His hands were on her hips, squeezing, pushing and pulling, laying down the rhythm like he always laid down the line everywhere else. The other men were touching her too. And themselves. LeBlanc was kissing her and groping her breast.

Morgana couldn’t see it but she could feel it. The sting of her sister’s humiliation, every time one of those people pushed themselves deep inside of her. She did her best to ignore it and push Talon in a guest room.

It didn’t take long before she pushed him on a nearby bed and climbed on top of him. Morgana smiled at Talon, thankful. With skillful fingers, she started unbuttoning his shirt, pecking sweet little kisses along the way. His abs contracted every time her lips touched his skin. He was so fired up everything felt ten times as sensitive. She got on her haunches, spreading her legs wide, and zipped his fly down. When her soft hands pulled out his manhood, he breathed out deeply.

Her face lit up when she examined him. She looked pleased. Talon softly smiled. They always looked pleased. But then he jolted, forcefully closing his eyes. She unceremoniously took his entire length in her mouth, in one big go. He felt like he was going to shoot through the roof. “Careful!” he warned her.

But lost in sexual frustration and wishing to forget Morgana was ruthless. She moved her head up and down a couple of times, for the sole purpose of lubricating him. Then she let go of him with pop and climbed back into his lap. He was already reaching for her, but she didn’t give him the chance. Instead, she leaned backward, put her hands on his knees and placed her feet on the bed next to him. Then she slowly pushed her warm, wet sex against his member without letting him inside her.

“Ah…” The assassin managed to utter, his member pulsating like a living creature now. It was straining for her wetness to come closer. Reaching desperately for her warmth, so near and yet so unattainable.

“Seems you want to forget something,” he slurred before letting out a chuckle.

Morgana leaned down and whispered in his ear seductively: “I want to forget everything~”

“Let me help you forget then,” he pleaded, squeezing the dark angels hips. “Come on. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Morgana smiled, satisfied. She moved back into a straddling position with her wings moving against the chains in excitement. Then she lifted her ass and reached behind her. Talon’s breathing halted when she grabbed hold of his manhood and proceeded to trial it along her slit. When she was at the right spot, she gently tucked the slippery head between her lips. Talon could feel himself throbbing against her warm, wet opening. He groaned with desire, lifting his hips.

“Down, boy,” Morgana grinned, pushing him back.

“Please…” he begged.

She put her hands on his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes.

“Allow me.” Then she slowly sat down on his member.

The release was incredible. He slipped inside of her like her sex was coated in butter. If this what vice would bring, he would enjoy it and be perfectly fine with it. Though he never found sexual attraction in men or women he did enjoy the feeling. Slowly, and with unbelievably supple movements, Morgana started to move. Her hips moved more freely than any girl before. She was riding him like an equestrian princess, her breast bouncing on the rhythm, and any Noxian could only surrender to her and try his best to follow. Morgana was just trying to forget her sister, trying to forget her suffering, telling herself she didn’t care for her twin.

“Do you like it, love?” she panted.

Talon didn’t answer, he only responded with a soft moan, which was enough for her.

Morgana’s fingers dug into Talon’s shoulders. Her grip was stronger and weaker at the same time, the cling almost desperate. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. She was sweating. She could see the beads form on his brow. Her entire being was focused on relaxing her muscles so she could ride him better. Her groans were slow, deep and laden with a new emotion even she couldn’t quite determine.

Talon moved his hands from Morgana’s shoulders to the headboard of the bed, on either side of Talon’s neck. The dark angel was pushed forward, her upper body resting entirely on Talon’s now. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close. All strength had gone from her touch. Talon held still while he felt Morgana's sex move up and down his manhood on the rhythm of her thrusts. She panted in his ear. The heat in the room seemed to increase. They were both sweating now.

Talon was grunting away happily, but Morgana couldn’t utter a single sound. Her moans died somewhere deep in her throat, while her body and mind tried to come to terms with all the different sensations. Still, all she could think about was Kayle, the way LeBlanc was touching her, the way she rode Swain, the look on her….

It was all building inside of her, the pleasure was like a dam trapped in a wall and the only way to relieve it was to forget everything. She ignored and all and focused on the pleasure that she was sharing with the assassin. By no means was this making love, she couldn’t even say this was fucking, this was just sexual frustration that needed to be released, maybe for Talon too. They kept going until they both reached their peak seconds from each other and panted from the sea of pleasure that Morgana found herself trapped in.

“Kayle….” she moaned quietly.

Talon was panting too hard for him to hear her and didn’t immediately pull out, Morgana kissed him hungrily, he thought she was about to eat his entire lip until she pulled back from him. Morgana felt helpless and satisfied. In a twisted way, she was imagining Talon as Kayle during the sex, she didn’t want to say that to herself, everything was wrong.

Morgana just wanted to forget it all and she couldn’t do that. All she could think about was Kayle. For some reason she heard the voice of what sounded like a younger Kayle begging in her head. She was screaming.

"Someone help! Someone make this stop...."

Chapter Text

After returning from the party, Morgana returned home and laid on her bed without even bothering to remove her dress. The dark angel felt ashamed for the way she was feeling at the party, surrounded by sex made her feel a certain way for her own twin. Though she no longer believed in the divine she knew it was wrong to feel this way for her sister, it's not as if they have done anything together. When Kayle was being touched she felt like she had seen this before like she had done this before.

Even before their father's death, she knew there was always a crack in their relationship, they never agreed on anything and never got along all of a sudden. Something was wrong and it wasn’t sinking in. Kayle’s fear of darkness, her obsession with purity and the divine. Morgana closed her eyes and thought back:


(Flashback time!)


“Kayle! Come on, we’re going to the village!” A ten-year-old Morgana called out from outside where she last saw her twin. Her purple eyes scan the front and into the woods that surrounded their home, Kayle was nowhere in sight.

Morgana near the edge of the forest to look deeper into the woods, believing she might see her The common shades of a bright green and brown, Its branches protrude like vines up towards the sky and brush the nearby buildings like a paintbrush but still no sign of Kayle. Suddenly, the girl heard a light snickering from above. Instinctively the girl looked up to find her twin sitting in a large tree branch that she stood by, looking down at the girl in a smug fashion.


“What are you doing up there?” She asked with her hands above her eyes so that the sun doesn’t blind her.

“What are you doing down there?” Kayle replied with her own question, smirking at her sister.

Morgana rolled her eyes, she examined the bark on the tree and the thought about how Kayle could have possibly climbed all the way up the tree, it was steep and there would have nothing to support her weight. The tree was tall and any fall would be a fatal one, but sure enough her twin somehow managed to climb it.

“The climb looked dangerous, how did you do it?”

Kayle leaned back and shrugged, “Nothing scary about heights, nothing in the skies that harm you.”

“Well father won’t like you climbing trees, we’re going down to the village today and he’s going to freak out if he catches you up there,” Morgana returned sharply, looking back at the wagon to make sure their father wasn't out there.

The older twin groaned and pulled herself below the branch and prepared to drop herself. Morgana tensed up seeing her sister looking like she was about to fall when the white-haired girl purposely dropped herself down from the height and landed on both feet, appearing unscathed from it.

Morgana sighed in relief but still kept a hard look on her face, “Don’t do that again,” she scowled, frowning at her sister. Kayle stuck her tongue out playfully and walked back to the wagon. The girl groaned and followed her sister to the wagon. Their father, Kilam, walked back a little after and rode off with the girls to the village. While they still lived within the village area they did always to have to ride far to get there but the girls were practically raised in the village


They rode off from the woods and alongside the road from what felt like an hour until they saw small buildings from the horizon. Rustic cabins dotted the grassy hills as trees stood up like spikes, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers streamed through deep valleys. The village of Custosalatum was built on a steep hillside with shops and restaurants, houses and apartments all piled up on top of each other with a series of interlocking alleyways and a single narrow street zigzagging all the way down to the horseshoe bay below. There were lights everywhere. The market was drawing to a close, but the place was still crowded with people determined to buy what they needed.

“Ok…” Their father's voice trailed off as he read his shopping list, he reached into his pocket and pulled out ten copper coins, handing five to each of the girls. “I have some things to get and you two can buy what you want with your money but stay together.

The two girls nodded, Morgana a little slower than Kayle did.

“What do you do if someone asked you to go with them?” Kilam inquired.

Morgana groaned by their father's question. He always asked this whenever they were in the village and the girls were old enough to know to never go with strangers yet their father always insisted on making sure they know.

“Don’t go with them and come find me,” the twins answered at the exact same time.

Kilam smiled and kissed both girls on the head, also telling them to come back in this location in an hour.

The two of them walked in silence through the village High Street. They passed the greengrocer with his window full of apples and oranges, and the butcher with his bloody lumps of meat on display and naked chickens hanging up, and the small bank, and the grocery store and the electrical shop, and then they came out at the other side of the village on to the narrow country road where there were no people anymore and very few carriages and wagons.

“Where do you want to head first?” Kayle curiously asked, looking at each shop they passed by.

“Hmm,” Morgana thought, her eyes roaming the streets and shops, it became difficult to look with the crowd.  “Have you noticed it became more crowded with the refugees coming in?”

“Yeah, I did, I can barely get around.”

“Crowds are nice.” Morgana said casually.

Morgana love crowds. She loves the way people walk, roughly in one direction, weaving a little, chatting as they go. The young girl watches them, some heads down and lost in thought and wonder what their private worlds are like - each of them viewing this same place, this same day, from a unique perspective. Some of them notice the sun, others the cloudy remains of yesterdays rainstorm. Either way, their footfalls soothe her better than a flowing river. Forest and nature were something Kayle enjoyed more.

Kayle looked around until she saw a store that caught her eye, “There’s a store there,” she pointed to the store and pulled her sister by the wrist and lead her to the shop.

The store was wedged between two taller buildings. It looked squeezed as if the neighbors were closing in. The sign was old, some letters had become illegible in the peeling paint. But the window was clean and the artifacts on display were clearly antique. There was no theme to them or color coordination and they were crammed together rather than artistically arranged. Sandeep pushed the door and a bell rang. It was far longer than it was wide, almost a corridor with shelving spanning both sides. It was pristine. Then with some kerfuffle, an old gent emerged in tweeds that were of the same era as her wares

Morgana looked unsure about the store, it gave her a creepy vibe. “Looks creepy,” she whispered suspiciously at the store but walked cautiously behind her twin.

The shop was more like a warehouse than anything the twins had ever seen before. There was row upon row of stainless steel shelving chocked with a vast array of tinned and boxed artifacts. They had everything they could want - so long as they wanted to purchase in silver.


“Welcome,” an old man greeted from across the room, though the girls were too fixed on artifacts to consider his existence. But Kayle, being the polite twin, smiled warmly at the man.

“Anything I can help you with?” He asked kindly.

“We’re just looking,” Kayle replied in a similar polite tone.

“Well,  just tell me when you need me.”

The girls resumed looking around the store looking for something special. And there they were, the antiques, the gems of times past, the expressions of human souls that echo our own. Kayle wandered between them, taking in the curves of each, letting her brain think as perhaps the makers did. To her, each one of them was a box with secrets, or perhaps a window into other eras and the ways they related to God and nature. Kayle’s gold eyes fell onto a black box, she casually reaches out and opened it.

Inside was a gold coin but not like the ones used for currency. The coin in her palm is light and quite old. It must be, the girl had never seen a coin like this before for so long that it takes some explaining to the kids what it is. This one is gold and through the striking green that spreads over the surface with a picture of two swords, one of them bearing flames on the blade and a blindfolded woman holding a scale. There were words on it that she can make out "In a savior to deliver us from sin." Kayle used to like that about the old money. It might not have been gold but at least it was something tangible. She thinks about the five pieces in her pocket, she takes the old hanky from my pocket she usually keeps for wiping by glasses and wrap it up, tucking it in back in her pocket. The girl chuckles to remember an old rhyme; "Find a coin, pick it up, and all day have good luck." She’ll keep this one safe, no selling it, it's a keeper.

“Sir, what is this coin?” The girl asked politely. The man walked behind her and examined the coin.

“Oh that,” he chirped, “a coin for people who enjoy collecting them. They say it glows to bring good luck, but that is just magic talk,” the man laughed.

“How much is it?”

“Ten silver pieces,” the old man replied, putting the coin back in the box.

Kayle sighed disappointedly, she knew with a coin that it would be worth than five copper coins. She looked around to find Morgana reading a book. Upon a closer look, she realized how odd the book looked. The book looked worn out with the black leather covers, the only picture she could make out was a single black rose.

She told Morgana they were leaving and they bid the man a good day. Morgana followed quietly behind her when they left the shop. After five minutes Kayle turned around only to the see the dark looking twin was nowhere in sight. Before she panicked, she saw her sister on the side of the street talking to a homeless family. Kayle saw Morgana reach into her pocket and pull out ten copper pieces, she handed them to the family and waved them goodbye. The older twin checked her pockets to realize that Morgana took her coins and gave them to the family, there was nothing wrong with that but her sister should have at least asked.

When Morgana walked back to her sister, she saw the disappointment sister’s face. She tilted her head in confusion, “What?” she asked innocently.

Kayle only frowned more, “Who told you to take my money?”

Morgana’s eyes widen and she lightly laughed in a guilty fashion, she didn’t answer, she already knew she was guilty. Kayle sighed and pulled her sister to walk back to their father.

“You should have asked me before you did that,” the girl scowled to her younger twin, shaking her head in disapproval.

Morgana merely chuckled, “Oh there's not much you could buy with our money, that coin you wanted doesn’t even look valuable if I don’t say,” The moment those words left her mouth Kayle heard the sound of a coin being flipped and caught by a hand. She turned her head to see Morgana doing just that with the coin she was looking at in the shop.

Kayle’s eyes widen and she gasped in surprise when she saw that her sister had stolen the coin she was looking to buy. In an instant, Kayle reached out to grasp the coin but was caught by Morgana instead. She gave her sister and smugged looked, “Something wrong?”

Kayle gave her twin and look of disbelief then anger, “I can’t believe you stole from that man! You are no better than those people swarming in the country!”

Morgana scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Oh spare me, the only difference between the people coming in and that old man was the refugees didn’t look at you like he did.”

Kayle angered face turned into a perplexed one, “Huh? What are you talking about?”

The girl breathed out and proceeded to walk in front of her sister, completely ignoring her question. They walked in silence until they found their father in the same spot where they last saw him. Kilam and his two daughters rode back to their small house in the woods and were preparing for dinner. Tonight, they had simple vegetable and chicken stew. The girls sat across from in each while their father sat on the side, the air around them stilled and created an awkward silence that was eventually broken by their father.

“So...did you girls see anything you like at the market?” Kilam started in a conversational tone.

“No,” Kayle paused to drink her stew then continued, “It was overly crowded, those newcomers completely swarmed the village,” she complained.

Kilam listened and nodded, “I see, what about you, Morgana?”

“Well...I don’t mind them around, we’re all people, in the end, we escaped the same thing they did,” Morgana replied defensively, which Kayle frowned.

“It’s not about them being here, it’s about what they bring,” Kayle pressed.

“Like what, Kayle?” their father asked, trying to keep the temperature in the room friendly.

“Crime,” she simply said, “they come here and don’t follow the law, bringing the same dark magic that begun the rune wars, these laws were made for a reason.”

“They aren’t bringing dark magic in!” Morgana spat.

“They’re bringing their problems with them, the same problems that they escaped from.”

Morgana gritted her teeth and set her spoon down, glaring at her twin by her remarks, “Don’t you think you’re being a little too judgmental, Kayle?”

The white-haired twin rolled her eyes, “Someone has to, this world needs a good cleaning."

Sensing the rising anger between the two girls, Kilam clears his throat, grabbing the girls attention. Morgana instantly calmed down and leaned back in her chair.

The night had become even more awkward after that. After finishing their meals in silence the two girls headed up to the room they shared and prepared their beds.

Kayle laid in her bed, hiding her face under her comforter. At of all the things Morgana wanted to defend she decided to defend the outcast. Then, the darkness did not bother her, she had no problem with it, then. A cricket is heard from outside making an annoying noise, each second marked. She needs to turn, she needs to swallow and mindless squirming would not give her any sleep so she thinks to think of something else. Luckily a voice had interrupted her boring thoughts.

“Hey Kayle, are you asleep yet?” Morgana asked. Kayle heard movement from what sounded like the bed next to her.

“No, are you?” she asked back without thinking much of what she said.

“If I was sleeping how could I ask you if you were?” the girl inquired after a small childish laugh.

“You do talk when you sleep, talking about giving bread to birds and one of them choked,” Kayle laughed when recalling when she heard her.

“Oh shut up! You snore like father!”

“Don’t turn this one on me! What do you want to talk about?” she asked, yawning.

“About what we said at the dinner table…”

Morgana laid on her bed staring at the ceiling quietly tapping her fingers on the nightstand next to their bed. She had been lying there quietly for a while. Most of the time, her eyes were locked on the dark ceiling in front of her. She was trying to find some way to fall asleep but counting sheep and staring into the dark didn’t help in any way. Shortly after counting over a hundred sheep she sighed to herself and begun to think of their time in the villages with the refugees. Not for her own sake but because she knew those refugees would not be accepted by her family and the village, Kayle refused to see any value or humanity in the refugees, their father seemed a bit more cautious than distrustful. Morgana had tried talking to her, which fell through. Their fight at the table left them feeling bitter about each other.

After a few more quiet moments, Morgana tried again, "Kayle, there's more to life than what you let on. It’s not all ignorance and law. Accepting people is only part of it, there's always the other half that you can live kinda normally..." she sounded like she knew not what she was talking about.

"No one needs to worry about me... I know what they are...people that cause nothing but trouble." Kayle murmured, her voice empty and tired.

“They’re people that were driven out of their home because of the rune wars, they didn’t ask for these problems.”

“But they bring their problems here, they’ll spread the fire in the meantime and then no one will be safe,” Kayle said in a monotone before yawning.

"If that's what you believe, then do you believe that I'm nothing but one that doesn't deserve anyone to care about me? Someone that also causes trouble?" the younger twin replied, her patience running short. Talking to her twin didn’t seem to help her fall asleep, it only made her less sleepy.

Kayle rolled over, the first movement Morgana witnessed since showing up. She sat up and looked at her sister through the darkness but could still see her figure. "You aren't like me. You are naive and misunderstanding. You care too much, they’ll take advantage of you," Kayle said, her words dripping venom. “Your friends are no different.”

The girl frowned by her sister's remarks and made an angry noise that sounded almost like growling. “Caring for someone doesn’t make me a fool," she said, her voice elevated. She let out a sigh as if trying to calm herself. "Now is not the time to argue about this."

Kayle sighed, she knew Morgana would keep going on about this, "Look, I'm sorry for what I said, I still care for our family."

"I care for us too, but just know there are things that don’t make it worse, the girls in the village tell me all about it," Morgana said bitterly.

“Like what?”

“Like when you refused to make friends with the children in schools and when you argued with the teacher about morals,” the girl chuckled.

Kayle tsked and shook her head, “I don’t like how those schools teach us those things, I would prefer other things."

Morgana thought for a moment, “I have an idea...we could try it together.”

“Ok,” Kayle replied.

“Like this thing...but....there is something that I heard...and I wanna see if it's true…” Morgana’s voice trailed off as if unsure that if she wanted to finish the sentence.

“Ok, let’s hear it.”

Her sister's voice sounded more nervous once it spoke the next words, “’s more of a do than a say, I don’t know how to say it.” Morgana paused for a moment, “Kayle, do you love me?”

“Huh?” Kayle responded in a confused tone. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m just asking, and if you then that means you trust me…to play...think of it like a game, a game you could play with me. A game we could keep as a secret between the two of us.”

Kayle nodded in understanding as if the person talking to her could be seen, “Ok, then do it, but don’t slap me like the last time you said you wanted to try something,” Kayle mumbled, angered by what occurred beforehand whenever Morgana would play tricks on her. She sure whatever she was speaking to would be out of here by now, ready to try whatever, but not her.



(Author warning yet again: If you think you know what's coming and don’t feel comfortable reading then I recommend you skip this but don’t complain about it if you read it and is disturbed that I actually wrote this.)


Without a second passing, Morgana pushed Kayle back down on her bed and climbed on top of her.

Kayle pushed on her twin's shoulders, trying to get the dark-haired girl off of her. This failed because of Kayle’s weak and tired muscles. She let her arms fall back to her sides and stared at her with confused gold eyes. "What are you doing?" she mumbled, looking away from her twins sharper, purple-eyes.

"Trying something, some girls in the village always talk about these sorts of things and I have no one to try this with. Also, you just agreed to it," Morgana said, firmly, before moving the blanket away from Kayle's nightgown covered body.

Kayle was about to protest but a sudden feeling washes over her and was enough to silence her words. Morgana ducked down and started nibbling and sucking on her sister's neck. Kayle just laid there, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. She didn't respond to her twin's stimulation. It felt weird and almost ticklish, she never felt anything like this before. The confusion and realization felt like the time she first discovered blood between her legs. Her father told her this was normal and girls who become women always experience this every month, but this new sensation felt someone on a completely different level.

“Stop…” Kayle wanted to say but couldn’t.

Morgana was confused about the fact that her sister was letting her do this to her and starting nipping at her collarbone, moving closer to the collar of her nightgown. She just kept getting mad when Kayle didn't respond to the sexual advances. She was always told exploring sexual needs, especially after puberty was normal, but not with their siblings. When she reached the collar of her gown, she started lifting it to pull it off, without even thinking about it. She kissed down Kayle's narrow body, skipping over her small breasts, and kissed her stomach. Kayle stared at the ceiling, her chest hurting a small bit. She didn't like what her sister was doing but she didn't see the point in stopping her or yelling at her. Her body felt dead, why does it matter what was done to it? Morgana sucked on the flesh, leaving red marks all over Kayle’s stomach. She eventually got to the line of her panties.

"You aren’t stopping me?” Morgana asked curiously. Every girl should care if they were being forced into something they didn't want to do, Kayle seemed confused and unsure of the entire situation. The girl shrugged, not even seeming to mind that Morgana could see her underdeveloped breasts. This was definitely wrong, not only by the fact they are twins but they are both too young to even do anything sexual of this nature.

Morgana frowned by her lack of a response and took one of her nipples into her mouth. She bit down on the sensitive flesh, before licking it and teasing the other one with her fingers. She switched after a minute and sucked the other nipple until it was a deep red color. When she looked up at Kayle's face, she still had an uncomfortable expression.

Morgana crawled to the end of her sister's bed and hooked her fingers under the loose elastic of Kayle's panties. She pulled them down and took them off of the young girl, not feeling too good about what her sister was about to do. “ Stop her, you know this is wrong,” Kayle repeated this in her head.

Morgana leaned really close to Kayle's warm core and cocked her head to the side. "You..." she felt embarrassment wash over her. Her sister's special place shined as her naked skin was wet from her own discharge. They were still in the early developments of their puberty so she didn’t have any hair. Morgana didn't know if she was worried about this or okay with it. Wasn't this considered rape? They were kids, this can’t be rape if kids are doing it. But Kayle said this was okay and she didn’t stop her, her older sister laid there and took it, but why did she look scared?

Kayle still kept her eyes on the ceiling, even though she was feeling rather nauseated and her stomach felt funny. She felt like she had a temperature. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Morgana leaned in and ran her tongue across the slit. She carefully dug her tongue inside of the soft lips and found the clitoris right away, she didn’t know what these wear but it causes some reaction in Kayle. She almost grinned when she heard a quiet moan come from her sister. So this does feel good for girls. Morgana licked Kayle's sweet core as if it were a lollipop. She stuck to the thought that this was for exploration and other girls in the village do this too, though she could feel her own precious spot getting moist. She ran her tongue from the top of her slit to the bottom, cleaning away any excess fluid. She wasn't even paying attention to who she was licking anymore.


Kayle had one of her hands entangled in her sheet, griping at it. Her other hand was across her stomach, gripping her loose nightgown. She hadn't moved beside that. Her face still had the dead, empty look though she had a small stream of drool running from her mouth and her eyes were tearing up from how hard it was not to squirm and moan. She bit her tongue to keep her voice in. She wasn't supposed to feel good. This was wrong. This was her sister, but why was she so scared?

Morgana moved a small bit closer to Kayle, working on her clit again. She slipped a finger in between the soft pink lips. She rubbed outside of her twin's girlhood, before pushing her middle finger into the pathway slowly. Even if this did qualify as rape, she didn't want to hurt her. She wasn’t hurting her, right?

Kayle suddenly sat up, "What are you trying to show me? There’s nothing special about this," her voice came out a bit shaky and her glazed over, yet still scared looking, eyes were staring directly at her.


Morgana pulled her mouth away, though she kept moving her middle finger in and out slowly. "Nothing, just something I wanted to try. The girls always say how good this feels,” she said, before burying her face back into Kayle's core, nibbling at the skin very softly. She started licking her twin's clit but rougher and quicker. Morgana bit her lip. She didn't want to show her sister that it was working. She was a terrible person, right? This was all so wrong, she hated how good this felt and she hated her surroundings, the black emptiness made it feel as if she was going to be swallowed whole.


“Black….I hated being in nothing…..I don’t like this, but I can't stop her!”


The younger twin sped up her hand movements, before adding another finger. She eased her index finger in and continued pleasuring Kayle. Her goal was obvious; she wanted to make Kayle come. To see what this was all about, was it even about trying out new things or was it for her own satisfaction? Morgana didn’t know or care.


Kayle couldn't help it, once Morgana added a second finger and became a bit rougher with licking her, she couldn't prevent her voice from embarrassingly slipping out again.  It hurt. It had slipped once before at the beginning. She laid down again and gripped the bed sheets on either side of her, fighting her voice coming out again, though this time she couldn't hold back little squeaks as her sister sped up her fingers, hooking them at an angle that sent electric shocks run down her spine. It was aching but had a strange feeling. At some point, Morgana would suck on her twin's clit, which made her head spin. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way. This wasn't... Kayle was adamant that her body was just tricking her. She wasn't supposed to care. No one cared. No one was supposed to do this. The strange feeling that made her body crave more felt like some kind of witchcraft that felt completely unnatural But if no one was supposed to do this... Why did Morgana? Why was she doing this? Kayle mentally scolded herself. It wasn't that easy. Nothing was that easy. This feeling was disgusting. Morgana had closed her eyes at one point, her one free hand inside of her gown, touching her own sweet core. She didn't stop pleasuring Kayle. In fact, she got a little less timid and her moves seem surer. She nibbled at the hard bud that had swollen from all the attention, her finger movements speeding up and rotating slightly every time she moved them in and out.

Kayle couldn't take it anymore. She let her moans, full throttle. She was gripping the sheets tightly. "Stop-!" her voice came out half whispered, half moaned. She bit her lip, tilting her head back. "Help-someone make this stop!" she moaned out quietly, biting her lip again. Morgana pulled away just long enough to say, "Stop what?" then sucked and licked at her sister's sex roughly, speeding her hand up a small bit more. After a few seconds, she felt Kayle’s body tense up around her. The girl let out a quiet, yet drawn out moan. Her whole body contracted and her mind went completely for a moment. After a second, she came back to her senses. She let out a few huffs of breath, the adrenaline rush from that very similar to that of when she climbings trees or mountains. Her heart was pounding loudly.

*** (You should expect fucked up shit from me)

Morgana moved away from Kayles's body, huffing a bit herself. Her cheeks have flushed a shade of red. "That wasn’t so bad now was it?" she asked, her voice uneven.


Kayle didn't know how to respond. It did feel good, but it also felt disgusting and left her feeling exposed as if she had just committed the ultimate atrocity. She felt ashamed of herself for not stopping this feeling inside her. She felt dirty and ashamed for liking the feeling. She couldn’t even see the person touching her, it was so dark…


Like the abyss of the unknown evil had been touching her, Morgana always liked this, was this why she liked it? The unknown giving these feelings, leaving her ashamed, dirty and scared. Fearful of this feeling and the darkness surrounding her, scared of her sister. Morgana let out an annoyed 'tsk' noise and moved to be beside her twin. "Look, I don't really like all that romantic gushy stuff. Don't you understand? But you seemed to like it."


Kayle didn't understand the clouded message Morgana was trying to send her. She didn't understand her. But what if...?


Morgana let out an annoyed sigh, "Why are you like this?" she asked, her voice somehow sounding softer than before. "Why are you confused by it?" she sounded a little odd.


Kayle wasn't looking at her. Is this a confession? What is even going on anymore? What was any of this? Was she supposed to tell her anything? This was wrong, should she tell her father what Morgana did to her? She couldn't understand what she should do or what Morgana was trying to say. "Don’t do that again...I feel dirty...please forgive me," Kayle's resolve was a little shaky.


Morgana pushed herself off of her sister's bed and returned to her bed. Kayle pulled the covers over her shaken and naked body. No one should touch her there and she let her sister do it to her. What was she supposed to be now? It was her fault for letting it happen, she was scared and let it happen. Was this normal? The word cannot escape and neither can she. The silent tears run down her cheeks when she felt something run down her legs. She is wrong  No isn’t yes in disguise, but she didn’t say no, did she? Did ‘no’ only have to be words? Morgana says that she wanted it. Her twin said that she was asking for it. She said it just an exploration game, there was nothing behind it.


“And I believed her. Why my own sister?”


When the tears weren't even halfway done Kayle was empty. She couldn't have cried even if she wanted to. She hadn't experienced this feeling before. The sadness was still there, but not raw anymore – now it was empty unhappiness - the kind she didn't think would easily lift.  The young Demacian left as if someone had killed her. She stared around her as if she was in a pit. Her surroundings were exactly the same, utter darkness, but they gave her no emotion. How could that be? She needed emotion to feel alive, to feel love. Kayle felt like nothing was going to get better.


Morgana was like darkness, an endless blackness that she couldn’t see past. How little did she know then Morgana would soon be the angel of darkness. The blackness engulfed her thoughts. Stretching out in front of the girl like a map, the unknown studied her fears, her courage, and her weakness. Taking tentative steps, the infinite exposure of the human flesh dawned. There was no life here. That was simple, no thriving population, no signs of past living. Darkness suffocating her body like a damp, musty, thick blanket, clinging to every inch of her pale skin. Leaving her exposed.  The darkness had overcome any sense of purity, consumed all hope of cleanliness and had wiped out all desire. She was very quiet and laid still. She had tears streaming down her face and her eyes were bloodshot.


No longer is the door open, no bright light comes from the hallway. No handle, no way out. Four concrete walls, the darkness that formed into hands instantly held her back down on the bed- this “room” became a prison cell in a matter of seconds. She didn’t want to be around Morgana, the darkness she carried with her, she didn’t even want to be in the dark anymore.


“Morgana, can you light a candle?”

Chapter Text


Kayle never acknowledged exactly the amount she appreciated restoring some inclination in her legs, insufficient for her to walk but rather it is a begin. She couldn't rush progress of getting her legs working again. The strain on her lower body and the difficult pounding of the burning soio, shakes, and glass staring her in the face give physical anguish, and the gazes of the masses brought a psychological mortification, not that she disapproved of it any longer. On the off chance that she moved gradually the throbbing in her legs would be diminished, however, her hands would have room to delve into the ground and definitely, LeBlanc would horrendously yank forward on the leash, making her choke. On the off chance that she endeavored to keep up, she would strain her legs much further and her solitary bit of apparel would wind up shaky and trim to the side or shudder about until it neglected to cover her enough. As far as it matters for her, Kayle figured out how to abstain from restoring the looks she got from the Noxian people strange looks, however, she didn't have to see them realize that they delighted in the visual. The soil of their desire and corruption was thick enough that the slave could detect the gazes and remarks being thrown by the vulgar residents from kilometers away. She did her best to reposition her shroud at whatever point it strayed, however even still the men of Noxus had their creative imagination. But in spite of the staggering sentiments of shame she was, at any rate, soothed gazing and fantasizing was all they were doing. It appeared to be all of Noxus was startled of LeBlanc and the black rose's capacity and impact. Just a trick would even consider making out of here something LeBlanc held as dear as her valuable slave.

Their walk finished at the mass of a domed structure. Kayle had just started seeing the enormous structure minutes back and she was at first inspired by its stature, yet observing it very close was frustrating, no doubt. While the structure itself appeared to be steady enough, the soil, blood, and trash that had recently been substance to simply cover the lanes of Noxus now involved each divider and corner of the dilapidating building. The stairs that lead to the upper dimensions were especially offensive, each flight more decaying and ratty than the last, a reality that did not well go with the pair abating their pace on them so the injured Demacian could effectively scale them.

Others meandered about in the enormous lobbies, yet not at all like the occupants outside the heavenly attendant paid little personality, the greater part of the general population basically paced to their own goals rapidly; a couple hindered their pace unadroitly after observing the scandalous image, however, that was all. In the event that anything, the battered and mishandled slave on every one of the fours with a collar around her neck was an ordinary sight in this spot, there were slaves everywhere. Concerning what this spot was she had set what parts of her mind that weren't distracted with disgrace, creeping, or choking as LeBlanc walked toward perceiving the reason for the structure. On the off chance that this had been done months prior, she could have wouldn't comply with the sorceress, presently she would pass on for her, it comes to demonstrate how broken the Judicator has progressed toward becoming. Chains and shackles littered about and mounted on dividers, the blackout reverberation of metal pummeling against metal, then a long way from swoon echoes of yelling and thunders from what must be monsters and the indisputable fragrance of blood…


It all clicked for Kayle, in her past trips to Noxus – scarce as they were - she had always been invited to this place and she had always – despite her well-known tendency to ingratiate all of her hosts and guest – disrespectfully declined. She never took interest in reckless violence, it was all sadistic.


"The fightings are today..." She whispered to herself only one just realizing it herself.


She had totally overlooked the field battles, she was so centered around satisfying her courtesan that she disregarded the slaughter of her previous comrades. The corner past the red drapes toward the finish of the trek, however, was at finished chances with what had so far been seen off. On the off chance that Kayle hadn't realized better, she would have expected this was another room in LeBlanc's manor, its stainless marble columns even appeared to be straightforwardly lifted from the space. Excessive decorations of red, gold, purple, and dark secured each stretch, with not as much as a spot of residue or rot on any of the furnishings or workmanship pieces. A thick shaggy floor covering gave relieving help to Kayle's torn and wounded limbs as it sucked her downwards like a bog. An immense divan set apart with the Black Rose's sigil remained as the focal point of the room allowing an ideal perspective on the butchery roar.

LeBlanc stooped down to disengage Kayle's rope, blazing a hopeful gaze amid the procedure. She grinned when it ended up clear that the Demacian had no aim of ignoring her, praise on the head was an adequate sign this was valued. Pushing down hard when she attempted to ascend was sufficient sign that she was as yet expected to stay on every one of the fours. Like an obedient slave, Kayle pursued forward. While LeBlanc sat down next to the grand general; the heavenly attendant gradually slithered to stow away in the corner.

"No, no Casséaile, you lie here." LeBlanc's words solidified the young lady in her place. She signaled to the ground somewhat in front of her feet. She slithered back to where the Matron needed her to sit. Quickly she was attacked with a severe cross draft that caused an awful shudder in her from the virus floor. A stroke of her hair from LeBlanc warmed her up. After a short piece of display, the "fun" started. Many detainees littered the field, some tied up, some constrained into lines, and others apparently permitted to meander about unhampered. A portion of those faces she perceived as Garen and Shyvana, Kayle scoured her eyes to ensure she was seeing effectively and she was, her companions will be compelled to battle until the very end. Kayle sighed, she needed to feel something for her companions, some empathy, some expectation they will make it out alive, yet Kayle can't feel anything for any other individual other than her two proprietors. The furnished mustached man in the inside got the chance to work promptly, rapidly swinging to push his sharp edge into the chest of a somewhat more lean man who was too burdened by ties to move away, at that point he quickly went to assault Garen however he avoids the assaults alright for the man to strike another. With just a single arm the man propelled the sharp edge upwards, totally bisecting the man from the chest up. The now distorted carcass crumbled into the ground with a crash muffled by booming commendation. The holy messenger can't resist the urge to not have any desire to watch this, for reasons unknown it raises bizarre recollections in her adolescence. Kayle looked away, unexpectedly hammering the posterior of her head against LeBlanc's leg. The Demacian seized up at the acknowledgment of what she had quite recently hit and apprehensively swung to confront her courtesan.

"If the show is bothering you Casséaile you don't have to watch it, I understand not all find enjoyment from this," LeBlanc began without looking away from the blood sport. "Just play with yourself, girl."


Kayle looked back perplexed at first but then understood what LeBlanc was asking for, but failed to hide her obvious blushing. Her thoughts quickly changed the subject as she noticed a head fly into the lower crowd, the Noxians in the crowd scurrying around it, some trying to distance themselves from it, others trying to obtain a souvenir. The rest of the showing went on: Shyvana finishing off her victims in increasingly brutal and bloody ways, pit fights between massive predators, gladiatorial matches – some with the surviving predators thrown in the mix, the entire spectacle was just an unending escalation of depravity and violence. After an intense battle with some kind of monster, Garen and Shyvana were the only two fighters left.


Kayle's face slowly sunk in horror at the sight of two comrades she knew would be forced to kill each other. A thought in her mind wanted to see the outcome, wanted one of them to die, it excited her seeing this type of bloodshed. The Judicator decided to take up LeBlanc's offer and quickly slammed downwards into a ball on the floor. She sealed her eyes shut and engulfed her head under her arms, totally separating her from the sight and sound of those suffering around her.


“I see this red again….I have seen this before….my first...I can’t remember!”


Kayle  didn't realize to what extent she laid there, she couldn't have cared less; the cheers of the group, the sound of music playing amid the battles, the vibrations of monstrous animals stepping about, the hints of Garen and Shyvana screaming in agony, the smell of iron and blood, even the unforgiving chill of the air - each and every sensation was totally repulsive and she had no aim of enabling her senses to recognize them. So she laid, for all intents and purposes insensate put something aside for the vacancy in her stomach, the torment it caused her was still more pleasurable than being helped to remember her environment.

She had quite recently observed LeBlanc remove her shoes yet Kayle didn't give an excessive amount of consideration to it, she needed to think about something different.

The wingless Demacian slave let out a moan of distress at the acknowledgment that her arm had gone numb, she unadroitly squirmed to get it into an appropriate position while endeavoring to seem stationary. In the back of her head she heard the stifled sound of LeBlanc's words, there was a particular mitigating tone to them, yet whatever importance they held was lost. The way that she got no aftermath from not responding was evidence that they couldn't have been that significant, Kayle contemplated. Just when she did at long last achieve a reasonable position did she feel LeBlanc's foot start stroking delicately over her back.

"This feels delicate and warm, feels almost like mother."

A concise protest from her stomach brought her psyche back for a minute – one minute.

Material sensation all of a sudden surged once again into Kayle's arm and she quietly heaved with sickening apprehension. In her stupor of joy and thought her very own arm had situated itself to lay on her chest – between her legs – and her hand laid its palm on her uncovered sex. The Judicator started to maneuver her arm over into its place next to her yet ceased not long after inclination the subsequent rubbing on her touchy spot. A virus heat flooded through her body.

Kayle's eyes shot open. There was no mixing up her arms were both to her side, situated easily on the floor. So then for what reason did despite everything she fell her hand between her thighs?

What… is this inclination? The warmth in her body increased, overshadowing all detect - all put something aside for the apparition hand and the delicate brushing of LeBlanc's foot.

Her brain panted at the acknowledgment. She was getting turned on by this. Pursued by the torment, she really wanted to long for a greater amount of it.

"I… I… my body… gah!" Kayle needed to squirm and shake yet stayed unbending. Her sex getting wetter each second. For a second, she felt pain on her sex which grabbed the attention of her owner.

"Gracious dear, are you okay, Casséaile?" LeBlanc tongue in clicked in a mocking fashion and grabbing on the white hair of her pet. "I see you've achieved that part, don't stress you'll get passed it." Kayle didn't hear a solitary expression of it. "Well, simply recall that I'm here in the event that you need any assistance, I love you~" LeBlanc tapped her foot down, patting the Demacians head.

"Love" that much Kayle heard.

She wasn't use to those words. Love cherishes an interminable bedlam of love drummed perpetually in her mind. With each rehash of the word, the agony in her skeleton subsided by a portion, just to be supplanted with significantly a greater amount of the prior chilling fire. Kayle moaned as the consuming and sharpness started to float downwards her body, focusing and intensifying itself between her thighs.

Hot tingle torment consuming sore wet desire.

There were fewer words than they were ideas – the natural thoughts of the emotions rounded her mind shutting out everything else, even her very own name was lost to the holy messenger for the time being.

Alleviation – another idea wormed itself into her cerebrum and part of her brain came back to her - the part that realized exactly what to do. Sense took over where mind fizzled and started controlling the manikin's body. Kayle's arm gradually moved downwards, jittering and shaking until it came to drift again between her legs. Her pointer flicked downwards and tapped her sex gently. In a flash a wonderful cooling wave cleared through her veins, spreading out to her muscles and skin. Her body contracted and covered at the sensation. She started to grin against what little survived from her pleasure sense. Her fingers swiped over the outside of her folds once more. She was still for a short minute, giving the delight a chance to douse over her. Be that as it may, soon her digits started musically stroking their objective, expanding her pulse and breathing each time they passed. Her body started to sway and weave in solace and uneasiness.

The whirlwind of swipes couldn't hold out of long however, her fingers started to slip and slide on the quickly gathering dampness around the territory, just squeezing against her delicate spots for brief minutes without increasing any erosion. This absence of satisfaction caused Kayle to squirm in anguish. In its frenzied quest for fulfillment through her center finger slid inwards and each development spares taking had stopped. Her juices fixed around the finger, covering it in a warm clear liquid. An abnormal trade-off between a snicker and a groan got away from her lips. She marvelously drew her finger out, and in a minute all restraints the lust had vanished. Her finger shot once again into herself rapidly and expelled itself similarly as quick before returning. Now it was about hurting herself.

Sharp, capable of being heard wheezes of breathing followed with fragrances of desire spilled out of the Demacian's mouth as she kept on fingering herself at an expanding pace. When it ended up obvious that she couldn't accelerate further in her present position she thoughtlessly moved over exposed front side up. Kayle joyfully exploited the new position and spread her legs wide separated, giving her hand and fingers satisfactory space to play out their capacity… just as give the sorceress over her a full perspective on everything.

What's more, albeit each push brought her endless alleviation, they likewise carried out little bits of reality with them, gradually reestablishing clearness to the Judicator's psyche. She must have been lost in her pleasure to ignore the pain between her legs.


“I am….”


A faint glow of surprise appeared in her gold eyes.


“Why… am… I?”  The words struggled to form.


“Because…it feels good…Ouch it hurts...I'm so hot right now, this… will… make it go… away… right?”

Kayle's fingers slowed slightly but did not stop.


I… I can't s-stop! I wanna keep going…That's… ah… true…”


Her finger reached it's the deepest point yet, the angel curled forward with a loud shout of satisfying pain.


“It's… so hurts too~ 


Kayle shook her head from side to side, on the last rotation, she caught a glance of the sorceress watching her with an amused grin. Her mind began processing as fast as it could and her fingers slowed further.

“Ah…I'm doing this sort of thing… in…front… in… public. Everyone else here, anybody can see and hear me. They can see me bleed, how fun~”

The heat in the Demacian's body exploded, actually causing pain to her as evidenced by her anguished cries.


“I feel something burning...ow..."


Someplace in the back of Kayle's psyche, far from ever really recognize she realized something wasn't right, this was certainly not common, however, did she by any chance consideration any longer? What made a difference? Nothing did. In any case, these doubts never made it to Kayle's awareness, they were pitifully obscured by the sentiments of warmth and fervor expedited by being viewed while she enjoyed her desire.

Kayle's other hand moved with reason upwards onto her bosom. It cinched down delicately on her hill and started kneading around. The wingless slave gasped like a animal in heat as she fingered her womanhood and moved her bosom around. She grinned idiotically at the joy it brought her until her psyche by and by cleared out, leaving her a thoughtless shell of joy soaked in her own liquids. There was little blood on her fingers and legs, LeBlanc smirked when she saw how easily the angel harms herself when lost in pleasure.

Kayle wheezed out in euphoria as each phone in her altered mind flagged delight. Her body curled up with the lightning speed and remained there for a few seconds before falling down. Her arms went limp and stopped their toying. It really started to hurt, similar to she was getting wounded and beaten. Everything had hurt but she couldn't stop, it was all too good. In a minute all lucidity and reason came back to the slave. The sorceress heartily grinned and praised the slave on the head.


“Good girl, Casséaile.”


“I…” She was too tired to think, succumbing to the feelings of shame that now filled her mind. With every last bit of strength, she had she flipped herself over to her side, facing away from LeBlanc. There would be time enough later to confront this, for now, she just tried to sleep. Thinking about her life in Demacia but even Kayle knows memories aren't always good to look back on.


(Flashback/Dream time)


Sitting high in the trees seemed to be the only thing that can soothe Kayle anymore. After what Morgana had done to her the prior night she couldn’t even look at her anymore. How could her own sister do such a thing to her and why did it feel...strange? There was a sensation inside her that made her feel like dirt.


The love that had been inside Kayle as a baby had been crushed. It's a lie that given enough pressure coal becomes diamonds and it's a lie that a child's love treated with disregard will self-repair. Each person she offered her love to left it to wither and die like a common garden weed. She hid behind a smile and reinvented herself, learning the keep her feelings inside. Her father noticed this when she skipped breakfast this morning and decided to stay in the trees. The hurt lodged in that sweetheart like a slow acting poison and before long she became a “problem child,” destined for a life of loneliness. Kayle just wanted to sit up on the highest branch and watch the beautiful skies.


The vast infinite blue that hovered above them, so soft and clear with dashes of white coming and going. Blending and parting, never changing constantly that moved silently present. Through fire frenzies and bloodstained rune wars, no matter how many had died the skies would forever stay blue like soft smiles and floating boats, sailing with them through thick and thin. Much like that kayle had always felt like the skies stay with her no matter what. Till their last breath in and each night as dusk approaches the blue turns darker, blending with myriads of colors swirling into each other confident and vibrant, yet subtle and elegant. A short life that abating into darkness and twinkling all around small and bright shining brilliantly, leaving it's marked in the darkened sky and comforting the traumatized girl. The stars in the dark sky now gave her comfort. Now, her sister just terrifies her.


The young girl has never been afraid of 'monsters' per-say.  She does believe they exist, she just doesn't think they are furry and live under her bed and in her closet. Since last night Kayle knew a monster. A monster she considered family.  She played chess with and read books with. Morgana’s had deep violet eyes, and a smile nearly identical to her own. She thanked the Gods for her very own monster, every night. The monster didn't have sharp talons. The only thing sharp about her was the knife that made this gash. Her monster wasn't green or purple (Besides some parts of her hair. Nothing explained why Morgana had decided to do that to her, it seems like it came out of nowhere. Nothing made sense anymore. Kayle sighed to herself and leaned herself down on the branch to stare at the beautiful sky, which it seems to like she would one day join it with her mother, wherever she was.


She had no real memory of her mother but knew she was still around, somewhere, fighting in the rune wars. Kayle always did wonder what she would do if she ever had a rune stone, she had heard rumors that these areas do hold a rune stone which was why refugees were swarming in to try to find it and control a part of the world. Was that what her mother was looking for? Her father rarely spoke of such things, but Kayle was certain Mihira had saved them by ending the Rune Wars on some distant battlefield. She knew her mother would do anything to keep them safe, but were they in danger right now?


Kayle didn’t know, she still loved Morgana but she felt unsafe around her, she didn’t want to believe her twin did that, she didn’t want to believe anything anymore.


She could have lived and died happily, never knowing what that was, let alone lived in the knowledge that Morgana did it to her and enjoyed it. She gave her whole heart, her life, her love, everything she could give to her family, and only wished she could do more. Now Kayle has to know that the person she loved never truly existed, that their life was never what it appeared to be, that she lived with anger in her heart. Conversations were just talking to her now, competitions to her sister. Kayle sought to heal, Morgana only wanted to "win." And so what is it she did? Morgana told her she could hear her thoughts, told her things she knew to be false were true and vice versa. Morgana said that she enjoyed everything that had happened, but she never did. She wondered if she had lost anything with Morgana, she had heard that girls sometimes bleed when they do this but Kayle never bleed. Morgana saw her suffering, her mental health in decline and she made damn sure she fell in the hole. That wasn't all though, was it, lover, beloved? Her twin questioned her about reality, about love, about family. Morgana wasn’t her sister, though she would like to be, she was her abuser. She cycles from abuse to reconciliation and back to abuse, build her up enough for the next stress-relieving power trip take-down. Now Kayle has walls. She has walls against her twin with locked gates and there's no way back in. Knowledge can indeed be powerful and she will use it well against Morgana.


“Kayle!”The voice of her father called out from the front of their home. Kayle immediately looked down from the tree she was in, hoping her father didn’t see her. She saw him look for her in the front yard. When his back was turned the girl took this opportunity to climb down from the tree very fast without falling off or Kilam seeing her.  Once she stood in front of the tree her father finally managed to see her.


“Ah, there you are,” he said walking to his daughter.


Kayle forced a smile as he walked closer, “Is there anything you need, father?”


“Yes, I found this near the table last night,” he drawled lifting up the gold coin that Morgana stole. “Can you tell me what this is?”


Kayle forced smile immediately fell when she saw the coin, her eyes looked the other way to find some kind of answer. After a ten second pause, she finally answered: “No, did you ask Morgana?”


Kilam shook his head, “No, I thought she was with you.”


“Well she isn’t,” she spoke bitterly, her sudden shift in tone threw her father off. Kayle noticed this herself and cursed at herself for this, she had to change it quickly.


“She might be in the forest...I’ll go look for her,” Kayle spoke in a monotone, turning her head to the forest. Kilam still had his suspicions about her sudden mood but didn’t wish to go into it too much.


“Be back before dawn and take this with you so she can explain,” he handed her the coin and tried to lean in to give his daughter a kiss on the cheek. However, upon close contact Kayle immediately moved away from her father before he could kiss her and proceeded to run into the woods. Kilam looked confused by Kayle’s sudden actions, she never done this before, it must have been an off day for her.


Kayle ran through the list of places it could be in her mind, checking off the ones she had already searched in her hand. As she gazed around the woods. It now had the look of a place that had been forbidden to enter. There were no birds or forest creatures in these parts of the woods, perhaps due to the human inhabitants. Then it occurred to her that she often found Morgana sitting near a river, she could search there.


As she was walking through the dirt and leaves Kayle tried to do the same coin flip that Morgana did the day prior but always seemed to never flip it correctly, she groaned and held onto it. Kayle looked at the sky through the branch of the trees above her. The orange-gold stretches far and wide, the color of fire hearths and tangerines. It is but the reflection of the dawn, the promise of the rising sun that comes after the velvety night has had its say and the land has rested once more.


The woodland seemed ominously quiet. She paused, now that even the sound of her own footfalls was silent, all that could be heard was the susurration of the leaves in the gusty wind. Looking up, the young girl was transfixed by the myriad of fluttering leaves that danced in the high boughs, making a living roof above them. She was caught, almost hypnotized, but the longer they stared the more the leaves looked like eyes staring back down at her and the boughs seemed to draw closer, blocking the sunlight as if they were forming a cage around them. The sudden darkness made Kayle flinch and move faster, after twenty minutes of searching she grew weary of looking and decided to sit on a nearby log and stared at the coin.   The young Demacian let the coin lie in the middle of her palm, as if it were a live beetle, and darted to the light of the sunset to examine the beast, exclaiming volubly. The old man in the store said this coin would bring good luck, Kayle didn’t know if she believed that. There was no such thing as luck to her anymore, there was nothing left that could bring some closure.


“Hello,” a masculine voice was spoken behind her. Like an instinct, Kayle immediately spun around to see a boy standing behind her.


A brown haired boy stood behind her, his windswept locks were matted and dull. His skin is so pale it has a waxy appearance and at first, Kayle thinks he's dead. But as he approaches she can hear the rattle of the boy's breathing, his air passing over mucus-lined bronchi. He didn’t look that much older than her, perhaps he was fourteen but that didn’t matter.


“Um...hello,” Kayle responded awkwardly, wondering where the boy suddenly came from.


“You’re Morgana’s twin, aren’t you?” he asked lightly, sitting the log with the girl.


Kayle moved away from the boy by sitting on the edge of the log and as far away from him as she could. “Uh, you know her?”


He nodded and answered in a conversational tone, “Yes, I just saw her, we were talking and stuff…”


“Oh, do you know where she went?” she asked, looking around the woods. Her hand squeezed the coin in her palm harder, feeling like she was trying to crush it. Being around the friends of her sister that done her wrong made the girl feel a strange anger. The last peak of light from the sunset had long set, leaving the two Demacians in utter darkness.


“She went home just now, I was heading home myself when I saw you and thought you were lost.”


Kayle looked at the boy with sudden cold eyes, “Are you two close?” she suddenly asked.


The boy first looked off guard by her sudden question, he answered nonetheless in an awkward fashion, “Uh yes, we’re very close…”


“Would she be sad if something happened to you?”Kayle asked coldly, staring down at the coin. “Might as well give me some luck now,” she thought to herself.


The boy backed away and had a look of suspicion on his face, her tone, her eyes, it all looked cold and insane. In life her eyes were every shade the sky possessed from dawn until dusk, in death they are black. Her pupils have exploded to fill so much of her eye. He wants her to blink, to have any other look. She won't. Her eyes are so still. She was always moving with every part of her being, with her limbs, her facial expressions, her never-ending fidgeting no matter what.


“I…” he backed away, the sound of a coin being slipped grabbed his attention. Kayle was flipping a coin, there was a sudden brightness from the coin. Like magic, a light came from the gold coin and suddenly transformed into a golden dagger.


Kayle didn’t know if this was real or not or whether these sudden emotions were coming from but all she knew was Morgana had hurt her and someone needed to pay. Perhaps losing a close friend would bring justice. This boy was perfect.


The rage inside her builds like deep water currents. Kayle did everything right - everything -and still this place is a God damn mess. Everything they have is what she made and they squander it like ill-raised children. That's when her anger comes, unleashed without thought of consequence. She lunged forward and stabbed the boy with as much force as she could produce. Even those that didn't earn this wrath today earned it at some point. Every one of them took what she made without thanks or even a backward glance. Morgana deserved to suffer and this seemed to be perfect. The boy let out a blood-curdling scream but before he could think Kayle stabbed him over and over, blood drenching the soil and their clothes. At some point, the boy stopped screaming and stopped moving altogether. She reduces him to human rubble with her dagger from the coin. Mild-mannered Kayle - a wicked tornado. Kayle expects sorrow, apologies, regret, repentance... none comes. She was...satisfied.


His body lay like ghoulish mannequins, the esophagus and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. It looked like a dead soldier, but he was a boy, but that smell... That smell could only come from recently slaughtered animals. In this case, the animals were human and his corpse was still warm, the blood thickening but not yet dried on his waxy skin. She had just killed a boy without even knowing his name. The sudden satisfaction that all this was just made Kayle feel better. For once, she saw this through right.


Kayle stared at the blood covered dagger, the light surrounded it once more and it presumed the form of the coin with the words, "In a savior to deliver us from sin." Kayle thought she had done just that, she released herself from sin. This was justice for her suffering. This was a big mistake. How would she explain this?


“It’s okay, this is justice,” A voice whispers, Kayle didn’t know who it was but she believed it. The struggle was over, this was her new path. Delivering the world from sinners.


“I finally saw this my way…”


The howling reminder of this takes Kayle’s brain and is-wires all the synapses. Somehow she can no longer think and if she tries to force it the result is scrambled logic. Every gale is the same one to her no matter where or when they occur; Morgana had hurt her and in return, she murdered a boy. This resettles to an upright position her nails are bitten to the quick and every muscle rigid, unwilling to allow her form to unfurl. After the fighting was over Kayle couldn’t stop thinking about it.


In a hurt tone, she whispers to herself at the bitter realizations, “I always was broken….”

Chapter Text

“You’re getting better,” Kayle told herself as she had both hands on the wall for support. The angel was making a vast improvement in her recovery since she had lost her wings and legs. Ever since she discovered that she was beginning to gain feeling back in her legs Kayle did whatever it took to walk again, weeks past since the arena fights and any time meant for sleeping was dedicated to learning how to walk again.


Though LeBlanc did let her sleep in the bedroom from time to time (depending on how well she cleaned) but she usually spent her alone time in the dungeons with a single candle lit to keep her company. She was very grateful her mistress allowed there to be some light in the dungeon, she was always grateful for the mercy that LeBlanc gave, her mistress was very kind and always knew the right thing to do. Kayle did her best to hold herself up against the wall and she attempted to fully stand on her two feet, she didn’t know how she managed to regain feeling in her legs but she assumed after getting in the bath for the first time had something to do with it. The slave remembered after LeBlanc had left her to bath alone the cold water gave a sudden electricity shock all over her body and she moved from the discomfort. Since then she was also slowly able to regain control of her leg muscles after they were implanted with electrical stimulators from the cold water that could help compensate for the damage to her spinal cords since LeBlanc tore her wings off her spinal cord had gotten the most damage and affected her ability to walk.


After the long days of being so alone, the pain ebbed.  Kayle finally managed to successfully stand with the wall to hold her, she thought she would feel the knives in her legs forever, the long blades slicing into such sensitive flesh. There were days her brain felt electrocuted, so violently defocused and the pain, the emotional pain, was so all-encompassing the angel simply existed as a matter of will power. They say one come out of these things stronger, and she guesses that's true, but one could come out wiser too. This newfound ability gave some hope to her, but she wondered what her mistress would think if she could walk again, surely she would be proud. Kayle still had to focus on taking a step, she still has her will to make a recovery, she was proud to say. Kayle still has her idealism and courage, in some aspects though those have been changed to what she previously believed. She still takes forward leaps whether she can make any kind of movement. Kayle does believe she can get better, if not mentally then at least physically.


Kayle’s legs are shaking furiously and feel as if they were going to collapse under her any minutes, still holding onto the wall for dear life she slowly lifts her left leg that was against the wall and brings it forward to take a step. Salty droplets flow down the Judicator's face like soft summer rain, dripping onto the concrete as she breathes heavily and clenched the muscles around her legs to take the first step. She sweats down her back is a dark stripe amid the salmon color of her slightly cleaner rags, a spreading map of perspiration. Kayle felt as steady as a leaf in a storm. She was as steady as a baby taking its first steps and soon enough the pressure under her legs was weakening and her balance became unsteady until her legs gave out. Her body twirled and jerked as she fell. The wind in her face made it impossible to breathe, she felt like she'd suffocate before she ever got the signal to pull herself up again.


“Oh dear and you were almost there~” came the taunting voice of Emilia LeBlanc.


Kayle was suddenly startled by the voice and immediately jerked back and sat up to see the mage sitting in a nearby chair with her legs crossed and watching the slave with a smirk across her lips. They stood in silence for a few seconds until Kayle found the courage to break it.


“M-Mistress, I...did not expect to see you here,” Kayle stuttered much like a child caught in the wrong.


The Matron kept smiling, “Of course you didn’t, you were too focused on walking.”


The feeling of ignoring her mistress felt like a pang of guilt sat not on her chest but inside her brain. What she had done she could not undo. She could make amends in subtle ways, but the confession was out of the question because she had already been caught.


Kayle looked down sad and ashamed, “I’m truly sorry, my lady,” she apologized.


LeBlanc quietly stood up and walked towards the Judicator, Kayle was expecting to be punished for not telling her but what caught the angel off guard was when LeBlanc gently laughed, “My dear, what are you apologizing for? I’m quite pleased you’ve regained your legs.”


Kayle blinked, “You are, my lady?”


The Sorceress gently patted the wingless angel on her soft white head and answered in a motherly tone, “Of course Casséaile, I never intended you to lose your legs. If your wings had grown back then it certainly would be bothersome, however, I’m delighted to see your legs recover.”


Kayle almost wanted to cry tears of joy when she heard her mistress had been pleased with her recovery but they fell one by one, not of sorrow but of happiness.


“Th-Thank you, Mistress,” she wept, rubbing her eyes to stop the tears. LeBlanc hushed her and leaned down to kiss Kayle softly on the head. The warm kiss made the angel feel all the better about her situation.


“You know…” she started sweetly, lifting Kayle’s chin to look at her, “I do know a mage that could assist you in your recovery, but if you behave and continue to heal in the next two weeks then I could take you to her, would you like that, Casséaile?”


Kayle nodded quickly once she heard those words. She needed to walk and heal as soon as she can, she was so happy and grateful that her mistress was aiding in her recover and she would surely be on her best behavior.



Two more weeks of the recovery torture passed after Kayle made her first step, it wasn’t much but it was a start. Kayle thought that maybe she could grow her wings back but came to the sad truth that limbs don’t grow back as regaining muscles do. Even whenever she would have intercourse with LeBlanc she became fearful she could lose feeling in her legs again just by how sadistically imaginative the Matron could be. Nevertheless, she still loved her, but little could she have already known that the sorceress had more imagination than she'd ever been credited within any damn novel or description of her character. LeBlanc eventually found out about her recovery and seemed very supportive of it but at times Kayle wondered if LeBlanc’s ego was only diminished by her prowess; she seemingly had no limit to her vigor. It had been four months since she'd taken the Demacian as a slave, though Kayle had grown to love her mistress and became fearfully of her twin more, she didn’t want to go anywhere else. She was surprised when LeBlanc decided to take her across the capital to see some medical mage.


They teleported in front of a run-down home on the poor side on the capital, though the teleportation always gives the Demacian a headache. LeBlanc tugged the leash for her to move and Kayle followed behind her obediently.

Kayle found herself in a small room with a low ceiling. There were windows, but the millions of stuff hanged around them and the dirt that the glass was covered with made the room look dark and murky. The entire area looked in complete disorder. There were a lot of plants, dried leaves, herbs, jars full with different potions or other unrecognizable substances, iron symbols and even dead animals lying all over the old, dusty wooden tables, shelves, and hangers. The thirteen-year-old girl, who was very dark and wore only a brown, very poor and torn up robe, had welcomed them and informed them that the mage would soon come, she disappeared in another room. She silently rested her back to the moldy wall next to the curtain, as she waited for her mistress to appear.

"Oh, my lady, what exactly I owe this respect of being conceded with your presence," a woman who was still putting aside some potions hissed with loud enthusiastic voice as she entered further the room. She bowed her head respectfully to the Matron. The sudden change of the cold silence caught the attention of the angel, as the tone of the other woman, a deep, croaking, but in the same time, a high voice would make anyone shiver.

"Good evening, Vera," LeBlanc responded in a polite tone, "I trust I have no need to remind you what I am here for."

The slender, dreary lips of the lady extended in something of a self pleasured, taunting grin.

"Be that as it may, you generally do remind me, my lady," she answered with the unaltered solidifying high, imposing voice sounding in a similar time scornful, ravenous and euphoric. Vera delayed for a second, as her eyes energetically surrounded the room and another ridiculing grin got away from her lips. "Anyway you have never returned nowadays, I assumed your time has been spent wisely,” she paused and looked at the wingless angel, she gave a toothy smiled and continued, “Yes, very wisely.”

Kayle looked at the newcomer in the room, who seemed to be the owner of the house and the one that she was looking for. She was not old, presumably in her mid-thirties, yet her stance and the manner in which she strolled made her look more established and to some degree rather odd. She was slender; her hard bulging shoulders were holding the free, purple, however with all assortment of darker purple spots, which was in no way like the typical ones. It was open, totally uncovering her bosoms while she was moving; and as it was sleeveless, her skeletal arms were altogether exposed. She wore a great deal of wooden and metal adornments of various hues and images around her neck and on both of her wrists or more her elbows. The free, white material on her appeared to be predominantly to hang on her due to the wide, sleek rope imprudently fixed around her down midsection, which on itself had plenty of herbs, and other stuff tangled and held tight it. Her face, neck, shoulders, and arms were secured with dark as a crow, long, straight, however thick hair, which was falling around in oily straws. She had moved closer to her two visitors, and Kayle had the chance to see with the help of the many weak and smelly candles placed around the room that even though the woman reminded her of an old witch, though she was merely a healing mage that LeBlanc spoke of. Her head was down, making her hunching her back, but her deep, coal black eyes were piercing through her locks of hair right through the two women.

LeBlanc softly chuckled by her words, “Yes Vera, I have. Now if you may…”

“Oh yes yes, of course, my lady,” the woman hurried to the back and returned some moments later with a couple of potions.

Upon the orders of the sorceress, Vera examined the slave and was very thorough. She ignored the obvious bruises and scars that her wrists had now. Vera ignored the fact that she was wearing a heavy leather collar and cuffs altogether. Her touch was the most impersonal touched Kayle had ever received, the woman rubbed some the potion on her spinal cord and legs. It was as if she were handling a vase or a statue, not a young woman. When she'd finished she turned to LeBlanc who'd stood by watching the examination. "I do expect there to be a full recovery soon." The mage confirmed.


Kayle pulled the sheet across herself, not enjoying having to be present at all.


LeBlanc smiled gloatingly at her. "I told you," she said in a pleased tone. "I suspect she could walk with some assistance for some weeks, correct?"


"Yes, very much so." The mage with the potion agreed with a soft smile. "The potion did as much as it needed to, I recommend she uses a walking cane before she could walk on her own."


"I’ll see to it,” LeBlanc said callously, pulling the slave off the bed and dragging her through the door, she waved goodbye to the woman.


"Thank you, and goodbye Vera,” she said before teleporting back to the bedroom and throwing the Judicator on the bed. Kayle did feel herself becoming more use to the teleportation as her headaches became less and less.



"Do you believe I could regain my wings, Mistress?" She asked laying back in the pillows clutching the sheet.


"That I highly doubt," The sorceress murmured moving her face to where her hand rested. "Surely you and I can rejoice in a few centuries if that is to come, though didn’t you only gain your wings when you touched your mother's sword?"


"Yes, but now the chances of that to reoccur are quite slim. My sword is with Morgana. Either way, you don't really expect me to rejoice do you, my lady?" she asked looking at the long tangles of white on her face.


"Of course I do, my dear Casséaile," LeBlanc said not bothering to look at her. "Your wings means nothing to you anymore, why ever would you want such a thing?"


Kayle sighed, "You’re right, my lady, please do forgive me. I don’t think I would want to be in the sky if you’re not there with me,” she lamented. "I pity it all."


The mage turned and crawled up the bed to come face to face with her slave. "You are forgiven, in time, your pity will turn to protectiveness, and perhaps even to love….but sometimes love can put one in a terrible dilemma. Such is the way of a good slave and the fallen one."


Something unsaid struck a cord of confusion in the angel, she tilted her head. "Dilemma? What do you mean, my lady?"


"In time, my dear Casséaile… in time." LeBlanc lowered her lips to hers. "Kiss me Casséaile, and thank me for the gift of regaining your ability to walk."


Smiling warmly at the Matron, Kayle tipped her face to give the older woman the kiss she desired. "Thank you so much," she murmured into her mouth.


Satisfied with her power over the slave and her obedience, LeBlanc rose from the bed. "When I return this evening we will have a nice dinner in the dining room as your reward." She moved toward the door, picking up her staff as she moved. "Have a good day, my dear."


Kayle watched her go, feeling cold and alone, and defensive. She'd lost track of the days and had no idea of what the date was, not like she cared anymore. She only knew she had to start pulling herself together and make plans of her own to move her legs more. Even if she would never fly again, walking would be a blessing. However, more on her mind was a good washing and getting rid of the sticky potion that Vera had used during her examination. What Kayle desired more than anything at the moment was to feel clean. Since LeBlanc did allow her to bath, she could finally bath herself.


She filled the tub and entered it, allowing the warm swirling waters to ease away the feeling of the mage's hands upon her. She had but a few short hours to begin to try to move her legs again before her mistress would arrive home again and demand her attention. Bathing gave her privacy and quiet such thoughts needed, the dungeons just made her feel lonely. Something LeBlanc said after they had left…she'd said; “In time, your pity will turn to protectiveness, and perhaps even to love….but sometimes love can put one in a terrible dilemma. Such is the way of a good slave and the fallen one… Kayle thought to herself what that could possibly mean, after thinking for a few minutes she couldn’t think of anything, her mistress had a play on words. Kayle rested her cheek on her hand, she wouldn’t let this bother her too much. Whatever LeBlanc meant surely wouldn’t harm her. After a few more movements of her legs, kayle decided she was done bathing and crawled into the room.


The young lady was seated at her vanity, combing her long white hair, when Pierre entered with another of the many boxes that LeBlanc had ordered brought in from time to time. "Your garments for this evening, Casséaile." He said keeping his voice impassive.


"Thank you, Pierre." She said just as impassive, for she had no desire to be pitied by him any more than he wished to pity her. "You may leave it."


"Yes, miss, dinner will be served at eight, mistress said you should be ready for her." he dropped the box on the bed and exited the room. As he did he looked over his shoulder, knowing the little minx acted differently than usual.


Once the gargoyle had closed the door, Kayle moved to inspect the contents of the box on the bed. The chemise was much like the one before, full-skirted and made of expensive Demacian linen. The dress was perfectly charming, and if it had been given to her by anyone else… It too was of Demacian linen and in shades of forget-me-not blue and white. There was also a blue silk shawl for her to use, and a fan. She had thought of everything to complete the look LeBlanc desired of her, from shoes to hair combs. She knew her expected compliance and decided it behooved her to go along with her little masquerade.


It was nearly eight when Kayle finished dressing her hair in the style of the time period that the gown originated from. She used a sparing amount of the perfume LeBlanc had given her and used only lip gloss and a little blush with her eyeliner. She looked as if she'd stepped out of the pages of a gothic novel.

At eight, Pierre came to the door and coughed lightly into his hand. "Mistress requests your presence downstairs, miss." He said with a bit of a cocky attitude.


Kayle hid any surprise she felt at being invited down to the main floor of this house. LeBlanc was confident now that all was fine, and she was bound to be more generous in her treatment of her slave. Pierre lifted his hand out to assist her in walking. She moved down the stairs in the long gown as if she'd been born to that period. At the foot of the stairs stood Emilia LeBlanc. Waiting until she had her feet on the main floor, not taking a chance of her falling and injuring herself, she extended her right hand to Kayle. Without hesitation or revulsion, she placed her hand over the hand and watched passively as Kayle bowed the best she could and kissed her mistress’s fingers.


"How attentive of you to be ready on time, my dear," LeBlanc complimented her softly.


"Thank you, my lady." She replied as LeBlanc held her hand to escort her into the fancy parlor of her home. All these sudden feelings brought back the guilt of what had happened many centuries many years ago and her actions since, she looked at LeBlanc with uneasiness. "Is there a special occasion?" she asked not really wanting to hear the answer.


"Not that I know of," The sorceress said lightly. "I’m not one to take a liking to holidays," Removing her hand from her arm she moved forward to look with sad eyes at the window

"You seem upset," LeBlanc observed.


"I am… I did many things in my past and they did to me… I don’t know if I was ever whole." She said honestly, before turning to LeBlanc. "Was I ever?"


LeBlanc could be cruel, she told herself; she could withhold information, or give her falsehoods, however seeing her become so despondent she resorted to using the truth. "As far as I'm aware, did it ever matter?”


Some of the pain left her eyes, "No...I guess it never did," she said quietly with a dignity missing most of the young ladies of her generation.


“I thought so," The matron said tipping her face upward with the rounded edge of her staff. "Though I demand proper payment for the information supplied."


Looking at her, and knowing her meaning she rose up on tiptoe she placed her lips on the sorceress, soft as a rose petal. "Thank you, my lady." She said as she pulled away.

LeBlanc sighed deeply, "I have a gift for you, my dear."


"I thought the gown was my gift," she murmured demurely.


"Hardly," LeBlanc said letting her amber eyes drink her appearance in. "That was strictly for me, no… this is for you." She summoned a festooned box. "Do open it," she said as she placed it in her hands.


"Mistress, you shouldn't have." She said in what she hoped was a pleasant tone.


"Do open it," the mage voice this time was not suggesting, it was commanding.


Kayle nodded, and deftly opened the wrapping paper and ribbons, then the velvet box within. Looking up at her, and reading her mood, she carefully opened the lid of the case. On a bed of silver satin sat a black wood walking cane with the silver handle being a rose, she gasped when she saw it.


LeBlanc took the expensive cane from the box and put it in Kayle’s hand. At first, the angel thought she was going to fall but the cane helped her balance it out. She stood up with her legs trembling to balance herself with her four fingers holding the black cane.

"Charming," LeBlanc muttered.


"Mistress," she said standing on her own for the first time, "I can't accept this; it's far too costly…"


"Nonsense," The sorceress pulled her hand away. "I can easily afford these and many more."


"I...can walk again," she said with tears forming in her gold eyes. “I can..thank you.”


LeBlanc narrowed her vision, looking down at her. "Your welcome, my dear. You may be right, however, it pleases me to give you these gems… and you will keep them." Crooking her fingers on her left hand she tipped up Kayle’s chin. "I shall wish to you have them on later…" she knew she would understand her meaning.


"I see," The Judicator looked down gloomily at the cane. “So it could double as a weapon.”


"Of course it can," LeBlanc chuckled darkly. "I do like to see your creative ways to use this later on." She moved away without reacting beyond that. She moved to the handsomely carved harpsichord, took a seat and began to play.


Kayle was not surprised at how well she played; she didn’t even know LeBlanc could play an instrument of any kind (besides an instrument of torture). She moved toward the instrument and watched her fingers move over the keys with dexterity and skill.


“I didn’t know you could play, my lady,” The Demacian complimented.


“There are many things you don’t know about me, Casséaile.”


“Mistress is very talented,” Kayle thought as she listened, it reminded her of Sona. The angel listened closely and didn't recognize the melody. "I'm not familiar with this tune." She said quietly.


"No reason you should be," The Noxian said gently. "It's called Rose in the rain , and I composed it myself in, well, the raining season of course. Some decades ago I believe."


"Oh," Kayle placed her hand on the carved case of the harpsichord. "I had no idea you composed as well as played."


"Being alive for millennia's does give one the time for many things," she continued the haunting melody. Watching how the music affected the slave and thinking of the other songs she’s learned. "You may have heard this around the manor."


"Yes, I know." Kayle’s voice drifted on the soft notes coming from the harpsichord. Whenever she was cleaning the manor she did hear the sound of music playing but usually ignored it. "However I didn’t know you were the one playing it or the original composition…"


Emilia looked wistfully at the keyboard, "I see. I only play original compositions."


Pierre entered the room and coughed discreetly into his stone hand. "Dinner is served, my lady.”


The sorceress finished, rose and looked back at the Demacian. "Let us enjoy this meal." She escorted her into the exquisitely appointed dining room. They got to the table and sat in silence. The servants began to ladle the soup for LeBlanc and then for Kayle. "Bon appetite, as they say…" The Noxian chuckled and padded off softly to allow the pair to enjoy the meal.


Kayle watched the mage dip her spoon into the soup and followed her movement. Taking a light taste, she had to admit it was delightful while completely different from anything she'd ever had before.


LeBlanc looked at her with interest. "You seem surprised, I would have thought coming from a proper family this would be … familiar."


"I grew up in Demacia," she reminded her. "Pheasant and Brandy Onion soup was not what I grew up with."


The Matron regarded her with mild interest. "And what would have been your Dinner then?"


"Oyster stew, and filet of fish," she answered quietly. "The fowl would be served on a special occasion, turkey usually… although we did have goose one year."


"Really?" LeBlanc murmured. "Seafood at night…fowls on the Day. I'll remember that." When they'd finished the soup Emilia served them both from the platter of sliced pheasant and its condiments. She noticed the slave was eating, but not very heartily. "Is something not to your liking?"


"Oh no, my lady," Kayle assured her. "I just find … I'm…feeling a bit…delicate."


LeBlanc smiled, "Ah."


When the dinner was cleared away, as well as the dessert, LeBlanc escorted the girl back to the formal parlor, where a fire now danced merrily in the hearth. The lights were dimmed and the main light in the room was the fireplace. One of the gargoyles was placing a wine decanter and two glasses turned on the stereo and giving the sorceress a curt nod exited. LeBlanc poured wine and handed a glass with a smaller amount than what was in her glass to the girl. "We wouldn’t want the alcohol to affect your walking." The mage said as she extended the crystal goblet to the girl.


"I suppose not, thank you, my lady," she accepted the drink, wanting to numb her senses.


"A toast," she said pleasantly, when Kayle looked at her she lifted the glass in her hand and said. "To fortune."


"Fortune?" Kayle asked, but she gave no other answer. Lifting the glass to her lips she sipped the spirits.

LeBlanc removed the glass from her hand and pulled the slave into her arms. "Kiss me, Casséaile," she commanded as she placed her hand on the Demacians back. "I want to feel you move in my arms, Casséaile."


"Of course, my lady," she answered demurely, looking down.


Kayle leaned in and kissed LeBlanc on the lips. The kiss was genuinely soft at first, but the Noxian mage pressed her lips harder to the Judicator. She slipped her tongue in and dominated the slave's mouth, the pressure became worse until LeBlanc bites down on her lips and lapped the blood that dripped out of her mouth.


"Mistress…you're hurting me." Kayle gasped as it became hard for her to breath. " good…” Kayle closed her eyes and enjoyed the pain. Suddenly the pain reminded her of a person that hurt her. Memories of her sister raping her flashed through her eyes and mind, almost becoming too real to the Demacian. “Ah….Morgana stop!”


The use of another's name shocked LeBlanc back to the present. "What did you say?"


The angel's breath was labored and she heard her own voice sob. “Morgana…"


Cupping the slaves face in her hand she stared at her, for a moment she could not remember where she was or with whom. The firelight gleaming in the heart of the gems at her throat reminded LeBlanc, and she swept Kayle up into her arms. She struggled for breath, and clung to her as she moved toward the stairs, a faint cry came from her lips. "Silence." The Matron ordered coldly as she made short work of stairs and hall alike. LeBlanc lowered her only when they were in the bedchamber. She kicked the door closed and it slammed with a loud thud. Kayle looked at her, her breasts falling and rising in the deep breaths she was taking. Emilia pulled one of the chairs forward took a seat and let her eyes rake over her. The angel shivered with her gaze, and the woman sneered. "Take off the gown, slowly."


Reaching behind her, she unfastened the linen gown, and let it fall to her feet. She now stood before her mistress in only the underslip and the collaras she was holding the cane.


Shrugging herself out of the carpet, she let her lips curl. "Take off the slip…you don't need it."


Glad, and relieved the Matron had not sliced her out of it, she removed the slip as well. "Yes, my lady."


LeBlanc looked at her standing before her now in only a corset, and panties and the heels she'd picked out. She stood up, "Come here." Kayle moved toward her slowly.  The sorceress placed her hand into the Judicators white hair and tugged her head back to her face was uplifted.


"Casséaile." LeBlanc placed her lips on hers and then bit her lower lip the wounds expanded in size and she moaned out. LeBlanc laughed cruelly before letting go of the girl's lip. Her hand was still holding the slave's hair, "You will give me now your present."


“Of course, my lady~” Kayle slurred in a lewd manner.


"You know what I want," the sorceress said with dark knowledge. Placing one hand to her chest, the girl moaned softly. "Take me…Mistress."


LeBlanc paused; she had not expected her to talk like this. The grip in her hair eased, as the older woman moved her lips to hers, not for a moment believing she would kiss her. LeBlanc stared at her as she moved her lips softly over her offered lips. Hunger, need, longing and yearning overpowered the years of dark planning. The sorceress lifted Kayle against her before throwing her on the bed.



LeBlanc crawled on top of her and straddled her waist, she bent down and whispered in Kayle’s ears seductively and maliciously: “If you want to scream out her name then you’re in for a lot of screaming~”


Kayle smiled with blood dripping down her lips in a cocky manner and wrapped her arms around the Matron, pulling her into a hard kiss. She couldn’t wait to feel something new.

Chapter Text


Kayle stared, perplexed, at the ground.  Her heart was beating out of time. Through sunken eyes she watched LeBlanc. Her vision was blurred, and she jumped when LeBlanc got too close. Her mistress laughed at that. The angel did the right thing and kept her head down like an obedient dog.

LeBlanc forced a bow into Kayle’s hands and then dumped some arrows at her feet. Kayle stood dumbfounded. Did she give her a weapon? The elation lasted a heartbeat. Kayle never used a bow and arrow before, it’s not like she can shoot in her condition. Not anymore.

The bow’s texture, its grip, the way it balanced in her hands sent Kayle into a shaking fit.   It’s mine.   The Judicator knew whatever LeBlanc had planned, it wasn’t pleasant.  Her bony body twitched, and her legs shook with the effort of standing as her other hand was gripping the cane.  If LeBlanc hadn’t threatened to whack her each time she fell, she wouldn’t be standing. Kayle assumed her mistress wanted her to shoot something.

The birds chirped, fall leaves tumbled to the ground, and Kayle cried.

The slave bit down hard to stop the sobs. Kayle knew silence was the only dignity she still possessed since she had been broken, and so she fought her squeaks and whimpers with every breath.  Instinctually she went to grasp the bow’s shaft and held her other hand just above the bowstring, using her elbow to balance herself. Two of her fingers were gone and another two on her right hand trembled raw and skinless. The Matron took the ones she needed most to properly wield the bow.

LeBlanc had said it was a lesson, to prove that Kayle was only a toy. LeBlanc’s toy. She’d had used torture spells on the slave for two days straight and Kayle took it all with a smile on her face, she wondered if she was still herself what would the old Kayle think of her now? Pity? Anger? Disgust? Sorrow? The sorceress decided to play a game where she tortures the slave every day answering a series of questions until Kayle begged.  Each day she’d ask Kayle who she was, and got nothing but “Casséaile,” until a spell met flesh and she begged.  The third day, before a spell had even been cast, LeBlanc won the game:

“I don’t know. Please don’t. I don’t know, have mercy on me, mistress, I love you,” Kayle had sobbed, and had been rewarded with sleeping straw and a bowl of soup in the dungeons. Her mistress had a strange pattern of acting like an angel one day and then the next she would act like a complete devil.

Kayle gasped for air in a gaping silence, LeBlanc standing behind her, a monster in the shadows. The tightening of the Judicators heart and the pounding in her head were normal now, in these moments, when she sobbed and begged like a little peasant girl.  Was that what LeBlanc wanted? She’d be what LeBlanc wanted, just for a little while, until she could be what her owner wanted her to be. That was what she told herself, but she heard whispers, traitorous whispers in the night that nobody would come.

“I don’t know.”

In the dungeons, the night before, winning that soup had not been easy. Whereas a week prior, LeBlanc had been treating Kayle like an equal now she was treating the Demacian like dirt again. That woman was such a mystery when it comes to her mind games.

“Don’t know what?” LeBlanc had asked, voice sharp. LeBlanc’s voice was another dagger the Noxian carried with her, pricking Kayle's soul until it dripped red with blood.  The flat end of LeBlanc steel knife rubbed against her trembling finger.

“I don’t know who I am or what I believe,” Kayle had replied; it had been a lie. She was always  Casséaile.  “I’m...what you want.  Just please don’t make me Kayle anymore.”  Her chest heaved, and she slumped, watching sweat drip from her brow and onto the stone floor.   I don’t know, anymore, who I am.   Am I Casséaile?  she thought, am I just weak?  Have I always been this weak?

“Good girl,” LeBlanc had said, patting her cheek.  Then she’d left Kayle, alone, with two fingers stripped bare but still attached and bleeding.   It’s okay, Kayle had thought, everything was okay.

Every day Kayle felt smaller, down there in the dark, and now it was a new day.  An outside day. She curled her shoulders in and cocked her head. She did not feel any better being outside; in another fit, she dropped the bow.

Her head was down, and she was quivering next to her mistress. She stood firm out of nothing but fear and love.

“I told you to hold it,” LeBlanc snarled above her. “If you drop that bow one more time I have no objection take the rest of your fingers and leave you rotting stumps for hands. You would like that if I did it, wouldn’t you?”

Kayle whimpered and lowered her head. The Demacian took controlled breaths to try and ease the pain; it took every bit of willpower fought to not drop the bow.  For what seemed forever, it remained half on the ground. Her fingers roared with agony.

“Lift the bow. You’ve wielded a sword before, a bow is no different.”

With the mages soft breath on her neck, Kayle lifted the bow.  A whimper escaped through gritted teeth. “I was never Kayle,” she added, whipped enough to utter anything pleasing to the Matron...

“Good slave. Now shoot.”  LeBlanc had taken to calling her slave or Casséaile ever since she’d said she didn’t know her own name.  “Shoot and keep going.”

Kayle tried to release the arrow toward the target.  It was so close even a boy of ten could have hit it. She concentrated, sweat beading on her forehead, and loosed.  But in truth, even the pressure of the bow on her skin made her weep harder. The arrow fell a foot from her feet.

Remembering LeBlanc’s warning--there were endless ones, it seemed--she forced herself to continue until another arrow released, but it fell a mere pathetic three feet from where they stood.

Kayle dropped the bow and sobbed--let LeBlanc take her fingers.  Her throat hurt from the raspy gasps she made. Shutting her eyes, the Judicator turned away, unable to look at her arrows bow any longer.

“Well, well,” LeBlanc purred in her scariest tone. “Such a shame you failed to hold a light bow, you certainly are not Kayle. Who are you, then, hmm?”

Kayle did not have anything to say. She kept her head down, eyes shut.  The pain--greater than any other she’d felt, even in the dark--whistled up her arms like poison. She felt disappointed and hurt that she failed to please her mistress, she really was nothing.

“I don’t think you were ever Kayle. Even last week you didn’t know what you were, were you?”


A moment of silence.  Kayle felt LeBlanc’s breath against her ear this time.

“What’s your name?” The sorceress asked in a whisper, grabbing the angels ear like she was a little girl.

They had played this game for days, but Kayle didn’t know what the right answer was,  The last pieces of her pride were long destroyed. Even with what happened with Morgana all those centuries ago, it seemed like she never really had an identity. Through a tight chest and fast, panicky breaths, she managed:


LeBlanc smiled, pleased with the answer, “Good girl, but you took too long to answer.”

A backhanded slap made the Demacian flinch, but she forced herself to regain as much composure as she could despite the tears.   Please cut them off, she thought, for the thousandth time, please.  Please.  But she could not say it; she remembered the last time she had was when her mistress cut her finger off.  

“You’re just a toy, aren’t you?  Such an obstinate bitch to train.”

Kayle stared at the ground, imagining what her defiance would get her.  Her fingers were torches lit on fire, beyond any pain Kayle had imagined possible.  She said the right answer but LeBlanc decided to her hurt her anyway.

“Stay. Or you know what will happen to the rest of your fingers, Casséaile.”

Kayle stayed, and hurt burned inside her as vicious as her wounds.   I’m Casséaile, she thought.  But when she opened her gold eyes and looked at the arrow, she wondered who Kayle was anymore.

LeBlanc summoned her associates to watch, and the Noxian hurried away. She saw Katarina and Vladimir. Most of the conversation had been inaudible, but Kayle had heard a few words.  New torturers were coming. The Demacian had heard enough of them to know what was coming. Minutes later, Kayle clutched the bow, shivering and miserable. She barely knows how to use a bow but didn't know why LeBlanc wanted her to have one. LeBlanc had reissued the command to keep shooting. More blood flowed from her wounds. LeBlanc’s crew were slouched along the wall of the manor, watching her with cruel intent. Kayle had heard some of their names but she could not recognize their faces.

The longer Kayle’s torment went on, the more she wanted to die. Even different torture might be better.  She looked up at the men and realized, too late, that they were beginning to appear bored. That was dangerous. LeBlanc had a new glint in her amber eye that almost made the slave shudder.

LeBlanc strutted around Kayle, the smirk on her face as cold as ice. “Well, I guess you aren’t a good archer at all, Casséaile. Are you?”

“No,” Kayle admitted, keeping her eyes down. She was just waiting to be punished now.

“Good girl.”

Kayle gritted her teeth, she felt ashamed she failed her mistress, she felt pathetic. “What...would you have of me next, my lady?”

“Put down the bow.”

Kayle exhaled and dropped the bow, her churned-up hands trembling as they did so. She looked to her tormentor for some hint, some sign of how to behave. The Noxian mage was too quiet, but she looked at her friends, smirking. The three Noxians exchanged knowing looks and snickers like they anticipated some new “game.”

Kayle was the only one left in the dark when LeBlanc played her games. All the games hurt in the end because Kayle always lost. Her wounds were crucifying reminders of the pain, and whenever they left her alone, all she did was sob. Straightening her shoulders, the angel stared sullenly at nothing.

“We are going to play a new game.  Are you listening, my little wingless angel?”.

Shutting her eyes, the slave brought herself back to the present.  Did LeBlanc want to further humiliate her in front of the other Noxians?  “Yes, I’m listening, mistress.”

“Good girl.  My friends and I are going to take turns throwing daggers and arrows across the lawn, and you are going to retrieve them with your mouth, like a dog, and bring them back to us on all fours.”

Kayle’s lip curled involuntarily.  “Okay?” It was one word, a whisper of defiance, but the word made her stomach turn to ice.  She watched LeBlanc’s hulking form lumber towards her and flinched.

But all LeBlanc did was pet her cheek, smiling like a sweet child. Kayle warmed up and craved for more, but she flinched again.

“I’m just petting you, Casséaile,” LeBlanc assured her as if the world wasn’t spinning further out of sync. “You’re a slow thing, so I’ll forgive you, this one time if you do my friends a favor later.  Slaves don’t ask why. They don’t need to know.”

A favor, Kayle thought and shrunk down, her body tingling and headlight.

“Now, what is your name?”

“Casséaile, I’ve always been,” Kayle felt like death was eating her up inside, swallowing her whole.  In death, at least the ludicrous answer would become the truth.

“See, that’s much better.”

LeBlanc’s hand felt like fire against her cheek, but the angel did not flinch.

“Now, what were we going to do, Casséaile?” the Matron asked sweetly, a little too sweetly.

“I fetch your arrows.”  Kayle struggled to get the rest of it out.  “On all fours.” The thought of her mutilated fingers sticky with dirt, aching more with the weight of her body, made her stomach rumble. Kayle moved away from that spot.  Then she knelt and then got on her hands and knees. As her flayed fingers met the ground, she whimpered, choking back a moan.

“Time to learn to fetch!” Emilia called out jubilantly, and her crew slunk forward, grinning.

Katarina crouched down next to the slave, patting her on the head, pretending to be kind.  Kayle stared at the ground and did not flinch. Katarina seemed different, she wondered what has become of Lux.

“Such a good girl,” the assassin cooed mockingly. Kayle did not care; she only cared what LeBlanc wanted, what her mistress desired. Theon understood, then.  This is my choice, she realized, obey and be a dog, or be locked in the dungeons, thrown into the dark place, beaten. Tortured!

“Why don’t you bark for Katarina?” LeBlanc asked sweetly.  A command, Kayle knew, and a threat. She loved her mistress very much but she felt unsafe around other people. Kayle sobbed, and through the slobber and tears, she barked. She stared at her ruined fingers, burning in the mud.  This was okay, all of these was okay, this was LeBlanc showing her discipline.

Katarina selected one of the best arrows there, a shaft and point.  Then she broke it in half and flung both halves in opposite directions.  “Fetch.”

The scarlet-haired assassin stood there with an evil smirk on her face waiting, but Kayle just stood and didn’t move. Kayle had only been taught to obey LeBlanc, she didn’t know if she was supposed to obey Katarina or not.

“Aw, did the slave never learn to fetch?”  LeBlanc asked. “I can let her have a training session with another woman if she needs instructions.

Kayle fetched.  The wood made her salivate, her churning and empty stomach rumbling.  She kept her head down and dropped both of the arrows into Katarina’s waiting hand.

“Good girl,” Katarina said, almost kind, almost human.  Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out two small bits of meat.  She dangled them above Kayle, and the Demacian played her part like a slave and became desperate.

But Kayle knew now, she knew the right answer, and she looked at her owner pleadingly.  LeBlanc nodded her head, and the slave ate. Her stomach seemed to grow more pinched, instead of less. Katarina snapped another prize arrow, threw it, and Kayle returned; again she was fed, and petted.

The Judicator never really knew herself before but now she was even more of a stranger to herself. Kayle didn’t know herself, anymore; she didn’t know herself because she clung pitifully to the kindness, however fake it was.  Desperation clung to her now, too, a skin that couldn’t be flayed away.

“Please,” she whispered, to the assembled crowd, her tone was filled with lust and desperation, begging to be hurt in some way, something needed to feel familiar to her.  Hoping, praying. For what, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter, because speaking had been a mistake.

“Bad girl,” LeBlanc whispered.  “When you are on all fours, you don’t talk.”  Her tone was murderous. “Still, you’ve mastered fetch and begging quickly enough.  I know, I know, you want me to cut off the skinned bits of you. You’ve been begging for days.  Come.”

Kayle came, hurried, rushed to LeBlanc's feet as fast as she could crawl.  She sat in front of her mistress and begged the sorceress with her eyes. The pain made spots of light float in front of her vision.

“First, a lesson. Dogs don’t talk.”  LeBlanc started to lift her dress. “Seems you need to gag a bit, hmm?  Second, if you do good, I’ll cut one off.”

At first, Kayle didn’t realize the whine in her ears was coming from her own lips.  The urge to run was as powerful as the urge she’d felt to please her mistress, but an end to the pain was all-encompassing.  Instead of fleeing, Kayle moved closer, cringing as the other two Noxians howled with amusement. The angel sat there and stared at her owners exposed and dripping womanhood. Her heart pounded, and her mouth was dripping with saliva in anticipation to serve her mistress. Behind her, she heard Katarina and Vladimir jeering and laughing. Kayle’s didn't care for them if whatever she did please her mistress that was what mattered.

“I see my Casséaile isn’t ready to eat meat,” purred LeBlanc with sadistic glee. “Katarina, don’t give her any more scraps. She’s been feed enough with me.”

Kayle’s stomach cramped, and she whimpered involuntarily. Perhaps she could force herself to endure this once if it meant being fed. The Demacian looked up, hoping for a shred of compassion, but instead was met with an icy, judging stare. Kayle pawed at the mages heels and tried to sound like a dog, desperate for another chance to escape LeBlanc’s punishment. Biting her lip, Kayle moved closer, and opened her mouth and sticking her tongue out, putting it on her mistress’s folds. She moved her tongue in the usual fashion that the sorceress enjoyed.

“I have an idea,” LeBlanc said slowly. She spoke as though an idea had just dawned upon her, but Kayle knew better.

The long nights they’d spent together since her enslavement had taught Kayle that truth. LeBlanc had been looking forward to this new torture for a long time. She was only torturing her long after her breaking simply because she felt like it. Everything was planned.  There was a purpose in LeBlanc’s head for the dog who didn’t know her purpose. The sorceress gripped her head and pulled her back.

“I think perhaps our little angel isn’t in the mood because her own needs aren’t being properly...attended to. Casséaile, take off your rags.”

Kayle’s bloodied hands quivered as she slowly moved to the drawstrings at her waist. She fumbled with them, and a cry of fear burst from her chapped lips. Katarina kicked her in the stomach, sending her sprawling over and gasping for air.

“Not like that. Dogs don’t have hands. Worm your way out of them.” The assassin spat.

“Be nice now, Du Couteau,” LeBlanc warned.

The Judicator stared at the grass, trying to fight off the fear that cut through her, filling her up to her bones. This is for mistress, she told herself in her mind. Kayle lay down and shrugged her way out of her rags; in a certain way, she watched herself, from far away. They were several sizes too loose from starvation, which made the task easier. Though her owner was feeding her more properly now she was still skinny from the past starvation.  She still looked like a writhing snake, pierced by an arrow in the grass.

Katarina grew bored of the sight yet again and stood over the slave and pressed a boot into Kayle’s stomach, pressing down and down until the wingless angel moaned from the pain. She rose an eyebrow when she realized Kayle was enjoying the pain, Lux was never like that with her. After a few minutes of this LeBlanc ordered the assassin to stop, which she did.

Katarina stepped away and spit on Kayle in disgust.

“It seems we must take more brutal measures,” Vladimir said to LeBlanc, gesturing toward the naked slave on the ground. “I propose we show her what else those arrows of hers can be used for. We’ll shove some up her and take her like a bitch in heat.”

LeBlanc thought of it for a moment then nodded, “Yes, that would be a lovely sight to see~”. She turned to Kayle. “You hear that, Casséaile? Oh, and you’ll play with yourself while we are at it. Pleasure yourself. Make yourself come all over the ground while we have our fun.”

Kayle, who looked like she was lost in some kind of trance, slowly nodded, she knew having arrows stuck up her would be undeniable painful but the pain might be a new kind of pain.

The mage came back towards her, kneeling on the ground.  Her gloved hands clutched the nape of Kayle’s neck. She pulled her slave towards her until their foreheads were touching.  “This is going to hurt a lot, but if you beg I’ll make it hurt more, Understand?”

Kayle nodded dumbly, eyes fixated on the arrows in LeBlanc’s hands. The sorceress positioned the arrow at the entrance of the Demacian’s sex. She knows it's coming and her muscles tense as much as they can. The knowing doesn't mollify the thrust. The mage thrust the arrow inside her. Kayle bites on the sinew of her fingers in order to not cry out in pain. The arrow is as hard as it looked and her leg trembled as the arrow cut through her insides. She feels her womanhood split into an unknown amount of pain as her brain winds up inoperable. The torment takes her not far away, yet somewhere inside herself to some crude spot that realizes how to adapt to the sort of torment that goes before she may pass out from it. Blood was spilling from the assault and the three Noxians were laughing a sadistic manner from her pain, LeBlanc pulled the arrow out and thrust it back in her bleeding sex. Kayle’s vision is blotched with rough hues that move and converge without example or plan to stop her. Might as well enjoy it, she told herself. The mass of pain still challenged people. However, LeBlanc wasn’t done and set a pace, even with the blood running down the slave's legs. There was no valid reason she was raping Kayle with an arrow, she just wanted to hurt the slave.

“Play with yourself,” The Matron cruelty ordered.

Kayle let out a painful moan, but still, reach her hand down to play with her clit. The torment throbs in her guts, it's profound and warm, yet not in a pleasant manner, almost like the arrow reached her guts. It felt exactly like someone was stabbing her in her sex and are pressing her organs first tenderly and afterward as hard as possible. Even with all this pain, she forced herself to believe it was pleasurable and soon enough, she was grunting and moaning in ecstasy.  When it melts away she can move, when it returns she can just keep still and inhale, inhale moderate and profound until it has passed. The blood was creating puddles on the soil and Vladimir and Katarina stared on in amusement. After ten minutes of this assault, Kayle's stomach area is purple and uneven where it ought to be smooth. Each progression feels like a nail bomb detonating in her innards.

Kayle played with herself more and closed her eyes, thinking only of the pleasure, which she somehow found in the arrow. The angel was breathing harder, soon she tasted blood in her mouth but ignored it. She moaned and kept going until she felt a pleasurable shudder deep inside and came, though only more blood came out instead of juices. LeBlanc kept thrusting in and out for a few more seconds until she removed the blood covered arrow, the sorceress examined it and the slave's sex, she was satisfied with the results.

“That’s a good girl.”


Back in the manor, Kayle walk like her limbs don’t really belong to her and each step is a negotiation rather than an order. Everything hurts now. Every damn thing. The Demacian wince to cross the floor, heading to get the book her mistress asked for. Kayle bends against the will of her joints but was caught with her cane. She really couldn’t believe she had an orgasm from getting raped with an arrow. LeBlanc really did tear her mind apart to find pleasure in that. She found herself in her mistress’s door. She knocked on it gently and waited until she got permission to come in.

Slowly, the door creaked open. Kayle appeared her nightgown a white dash in the dark blue shadows. She looked in the room to find only LeBlanc laying in the bed wearing violet lingerie alone in her bed. Master must have been on another trip in the territories, the rebellion had been keeping him busy.

“The book you asked for, mistress.”

LeBlanc gazed at her as she stood there. The sorceress seemed a phantom in her white nightdress, her amber eyes glowed in the moonlight. Kayle blushed by how beautiful LeBlanc looked.

“Ah yes, the book,” she smiled warmly as if she had completely forgotten she fucked the girl with an arrow earlier that day. “Come closer. Into the light.”

She stepped in front of the window. In the direct moonlight, LeBlanc could clearly see the outline of her body underneath the thin fabric of her nightgown. Much more than before, now she was standing upright. She was cold, her nipples were stiff.  Kayle was breathing rapidly, her hands fidgeting at her gown. No wonder. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the reason why she could have called the slave to her room, in the middle of the night.

From the outside, the sky was dark and low with ominous black clouds and the wind picked up, howling, crying, warning, baying like a wolf into the night. The first crack of lightning rent the air and within seconds the rolling boom of the thunder reverberated overhead. The rain fell harder splattering the sidewalks haphazardly. Then it fell as if from buckets, cascading like a waterfall from the heavens. It pounded on the roof as if it were demanding entrance.

“Won’t you come in bed with me?” The Matron asked sweetly, causing Kayle to tilt her head in confusion, her mistress never asked her to sleep in the same bed as her.

Kayle froze. She was looking straight at her now, her gold eyes wide and shimmering in the darkness. “Oh...” she breathed. It sounded so soft, it could barely call it a whisper.

“Come, I need someone to read this,” The Noxian said, pointing to the book Kayle was holding.

Kayle raised her eyes to her owner, then immediately cast them down again, telling her that was exactly what she was frightened of. The darkness lurking behind her. There was silence. LeBlanc saw her breath come out in little, silvery puffs. The room was glacial, without the fire burning.

“Come now,” LeBlanc whispered, her tone softer now. “You’ll catch your death standing there, or something worse…” Now it sounded more like a threat.

Kayle’s shoulders jerked as she let out a single, defeated sob. She closed her fists on the fabric of the nightdress, inadvertently looking for something to hold on to. She started approaching the bed, slowly, head bent, like a prisoner walking toward their execution. LeBlanc lifted the blankets for her. Without looking at her, she slid between them.

Kayle got near LeBlanc, she smelt of softness and warmth; of the sleep, she had been pulled away from, not moments ago.

“Go on, Casséaile,” LeBlanc nudged her, “Read.”

Kayle looked down at the book. It was a small one, maybe a hundred pages at most, black cover and the front was a picture of a large decomposing skull filled with maggots and other bugs in it, the rest of its body looked torn and also decomposing, with strings of rotten sinew and muscle falling from its body. The thing had a long skeleton-like hand reaching out for a small man that was running away from it. It read: “What lurks in the dark.” Kayle frowned when she read it, of course, her mistress would make her read a story about the dark.

“What kind of story is this?” She heard herself asking, “It looks like a childish ghost story.”

The sorceress merely chuckled, “That may be true, but children have such active imaginations. There isn’t much that an older audience may be frightful of. Maybe neglecting to make good on regulatory obligations or their home bills. The horror of loans isn't a story worth reading, my dear."

“Do you find these stories frightening?”

The Noxian shook her head, “Entertaining,” she corrected, “But not frightening.”

Kayle nodded and cleared her throat before she began to read.

A carriage broke down late way out in the country road. The Driver remembers passing an empty house a few minutes earlier. “I’ll stay there,” he thought. “At least I’ll get some sleep.”

Kayle read through the parts where the man was walking through the woods and in the darkness and his horse suddenly went missing.

He found some wood in the corner of the living room and made a fire in the fireplace. He covered himself with his coat and slept. In the morning the fire went out and the cold awakened him. “It will be light soon enough and I will go home,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes again but before he could doze off there was a terrible crash, something big and heavy had fallen into the chimney, it laid there covered in the dust then stood up and stared down at him.

“My lady, what kind of story is this?” Kayle asked in a confused and creeped out tone, stopping the story and staring at the words.

“Shush, no interruption.”

The man took one look and screamed on the top of his lungs, he got up as quickly as he could and started running, he had never seen anything like this before. Running in the darkness without a sight of where he was heading he felt as if any moment the monster in the house would leap out and drag him back. He had never seen anything so horrible in his life. He ran as fast as if could, feeling like his heart would pop out of his chest and his lungs would burst. The man tripped over something soft and lifelike and screamed when he realized it was his horse that went missing. The darkness only grew worse from where he was running, not even the stars gave him any form of comfort. He finally stopped once he found a road. As he stood in the road, panting, trying to catch his breath, he felt something...tap him on his shoulder.

He turned and found himself staring at two large blood-filled eyes that were dripping down the face of a decomposed brimming skull and a smaller decomposing corpse. It was a monster that emerged from the darkness that would pull anyone in along with it. It was that horrible thing he saw, but its head grew bigger and the entire thing was floating in mid-air.

“Pardon me,” it said in a chilling low voice, “Is something wrong?”

Kayle stopped reading then and there and set the book down. When the thunder rolled around the lightning cracked through the sky, Kayle felt like the darkness would come for her. That Morgana would.  LeBlanc smirked at her fearful expression and had pulled the slave near her and press her lips against the slaves. The mage reached out and close her hand around a breast, feel the nipple rise up even firmer under her touch.

“Don’t worry,” LeBlanc whispered in her ear, “I’m not going to let the darkness take you.”

Kayle trembled.  It was the truth; Only LeBlanc can hurt her.  But she knew better to say anything and only nodded. The sorceress ordered her to spread her legs, which Kayle complied to. Then LeBlanc had crawled on top of her, pressing her breast against Kayle’s and kissing her.

LeBlanc had already pulled up the slave's dress and was running her hands along the Demacians thighs.  The only thing that separated her hands from Kayle’s skin was her silky lingerie. LeBlanc always got what she desired but she would always have Kayle to herself.

“But that’s okay, isn’t it, Casséaile?” LeBlanc's hand was in her white hair, caressing, stroking.  “I have all kinds of servants. Admittedly, you’re as pretty as a maid, but you’ll squeal like one.  Won’t you?”

Kayle’s chest heaved, but she nodded. She had seen herself in the mirror lately; it seemed bizarre anyone would want to look at her, let alone like this.  She guessed it didn’t matter when all she liked was pain and fear.

LeBlanc leaned in towards her, and their noses touched.  Her owner's thumb ran down her cheek and poked her bruised lip playfully.  “It’s fine, Casséaile. Don’t be afraid.  You can kiss me.”

Kayle leaned up and kissed her.  The kiss was meager and shy, and she shivered as she withdrew.  The angel shut her eyes. She had to withdraw, and please her.

“Oh, are you shy now?” LeBlanc asked, amused.  “Now, Casséaile.  I know that’s not true.  We both know you like this.”

Shivering, she nodded. Mistress was always right.

“Now, try again, little angel.”

Kayle raised her mutilated fingers to stroke LeBlanc’s cheek. She cupped her lady’s face in both hands and kissed her desperately.  When she withdrew, she stared at LeBlanc’s breast, waiting for a slap or worse.

“Not as bad,” Emilia said instead.  “You’re getting better.”

“…Yes.”  Kayle enjoyed her mistress compliments.  She didn’t belong anywhere else but here.  Only Emilia LeBlanc would keep her.

“Such a good little angel,”  LeBlanc tugged on her panties. Kayle just laid there. “Well, get ready.  Do I have to do it for you?”

There was a warning there and a command.  She started to tug down her smallclothes, vision growing blurry with tears.  Underneath them were humiliation and the memory of unbearable pain from today. It took three hours for her sex to stop bleeding but it still hurt from the assault.

Kayle couldn’t even look down to see the damage; when she relieved herself she looked away.  Pulling her legs up, she removed her final piece of protection. Kayle quivered; LeBlanc was fully clothed.

“My lady?” she asked.

“Figure it out,” the matron told her.  Her voice was sharp. “Or I will punish you right now, and you won’t get a chance to get ready.”

Kayle knew it could be better than before. She could prepare. Pushing her fingers into her mouth, she removed them dripping with saliva. LeBlanc liked her dirty, and wouldn’t care.  Maybe she would even approve. She pushed one finger inside herself, and then the other. While she did it, she tasted tears on her lips from the pain. Her womanhood was destroyed from the violation yet LeBlanc still wanted to touch her.

“Why are you crying?  I’m not hurting you, am I?” The sorceress asked amusingly.

“No.”  Kayle couldn’t stop the tears though.  “I’m just…so happy. So happy to get a chance to serve you.”  The other woman seemed satisfied, even though she must have known it was all true, Kayle loves her mistress very much.  Then her hand was in the slave’s hair again, playing with the ragged strands. Fingers pushed away from the tears on Kayle's cheeks, but they felt as violent as a knife. The mage pulled back a second to summon the strap-on she used to rape her.

“Are you ready?” LeBlanc was growing impatient.  She was aroused and ready.


When LeBlanc pushed into her, Kayle gasped.  There was a pain, but mostly there was the feeling of being smothered.  The feeling that any second she should explode, but she won’t.

The mage started out slow, and it took her a while to get fully inside, her insides were mutilated from the arrow. Kayle felt grateful for that.  It wasn’t as painful, going slow, and there was just one woman to please. But LeBlanc was the most frightening of all, one day she would be gentle and kind, the next she would be a monster. LeBlanc's on and off personality always kept Kayle guessing.

She owns me, Kayle thought.   I love her for it. That thought startled her into action.  She squealed as LeBlanc had wanted, and eased her fingers through her mistress purple hair.  She was terrified to do it, to go from passive to a participant, but she had to try.

In response, LeBlanc grabbed Kayle’s skinny hips and went faster.  Kayle leaned her head on the sorceress’s shoulder. She had faded out like she did whenever she was being tortured.  It was easier to obey like that and she loved doing it. Her tears stopped. LeBlanc's fingernails dug into her thigh.

The Judicator whimpered, even though it barely hurt. She did it intentionally; the maid taunt had been a suggestion.  In LeBlanc’s world, suggestions were orders too. Kayle wasn’t sure if she was watching herself from the ceiling or not.  It felt like she was, but that wasn’t possible. LeBlanc was panting, one hand planted firmly on the bed. Her other grabbed Kayle’s jaw.

“You are mine,” she observed through a shaky breath.  “You like it.”

“…Yes,” the angel agreed; she thought she might be hyperventilating.

LeBlanc slowed down to press on Kayle’s windpipe.  She pressed down so hard the Demacians saw stars, so hard Kayle thought she might pass out.  That wouldn’t have been so bad, but it didn’t happen. LeBlanc released her.

The choking had sent the sorceress to the edge.  With a shuttered gasp, she came. Her eyes were rolled up in her head.  She collapsed on Kayle and, for what seemed forever, lay there. She was grinning. Kayle wanted to wrap her arms around her mistress and hug her dearly, but she stopped herself. She lay, passive until LeBlanc eased into a sitting position.

Unable to help herself, Kayle curled up.  The world felt distant, and far away. She ached, and it hurt.  It hurt in her chest more than anything else.

LeBlanc threw a blanket over Kayle and put her hand on her head.

“Good girl,” she told her, not unkindly.  “Keep this behavior up and I’ll allow you to walk outside the manor.”

“I’ll behave,” Kayle promised. She had never hurt so much before, except in the dark with Morgana. This was better than losing fingers and toes in the dark.  This was better than her cell, where it was hard to remember her name. Now, she remembered.

LeBlanc ran her hand over Kayle’s neck, thoughtfully.  “Yes,” she said. Her eyes trailed over the slave's mutilated fingers.  “You will.”

“Mistress…?” The angel croaked out in her strained voice.

“Hmm?” LeBlanc hummed with her eyes closed.

“Do you remember what you were like when you were mortal?”

Her eyes shot open, that was an odd question, she should have punished the slave for this but refrained from doing so. She decided to answer: “No.”

Kayle looked up at her, “You remember nothing? Nothing at all?”

The mage shook her head and dismissed it, “My past is not something I look back on, I see it in so many different ways.”

“How so, my lady?” Kayle asked curiously and tired.

LeBlanc sighed and answered in a philosophical tone, “Now and again I recall it one way, once in a while I recall it another. On the off chance that I will have a past, I favor it to be a departed memory.”

For a moment, it was so quiet it seemed like the room itself was holding its breath.

Then LeBlanc whispered: “Good night, Casséaile.” And she pulled the slave closer to her, letting Kayle’s head rest on her chest. Tomorrow she would have to depart on her trip and drop the slave off to her sister for three days. She knew Morgana might try to touch her sister, but LeBlanc didn’t care, whatever made the angel submit to her and control her more would work. But for now, LeBlanc was tired and would rather dream than try to remember a drifted memory called her past.