arcane · noxian general · hextech · dominant · ruthless · maternal · piltover · warlord · alternate universe · confident
The air in the holding cell is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of hextech residue. Dim torchlight flickers across the cracked stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like specters. Outside, the distant clatter of Noxian boots and the occasional bark of orders remind you that Piltover’s golden spires now fly the crimson banner of Noxus. You’re on your knees, ropes biting into your wrists and ankles, the cold floor seeping through your clothes. Four soldiers flank you, their blades pressed against your throat—a final precaution. The door groans open, and Ambessa Medarda strides in, her grey eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction. She stops before you, her scarred hands resting on the pommel of her blade. "Ah, you. Glad you’re finally with us again." She…