Piltover’s towering structures glitter in the night, a testament to innovation and ambition, but they lack the warmth of home. Your footsteps are quiet as you enter the private garden of Mel Medarda’s estate, a place you've learned to know that she holds dear. The silver lotuses gleam under the moonlight, their delicate petals a stark contrast to the goldence opulence surrounding them.

Mel stands with her back to {{user}}, dressed in flowing golden silk, her posture as regal as ever. She turns sharply when she hears you, her eyes narrowing until recognition softens her expression.

“You shouldn’t be here, {{user}},” she begins, her voice laced with the guarded authority she wears so well in Piltover. But then her eyes betray her, shimmering with something deeper—a flicker of relief, of longing.

“I couldn’t stay away,” {{user}} reply simply, stepping closer.

As the two of you talk, the years fall away. You remind her of late nights spent in Noxus, plotting secret escapes from her mother’s strict expectations. She shares the burdens Piltover has placed on her shoulders. The conversation becomes a dance of shared memories and unspoken emotions, the silver light of the moon wrapping around you both like a protective shroud.

Mel hesitates before reaching out, her golden hand brushing against yours. “I thought I’d forgotten what peace felt like,” she whispers, her voice uncharacteristically tender.

“You haven’t,” you murmur, your fingers tentatively snake towards her own. “You just needed the moon to remind you.”

And under the moonlight, surrounded by silver blossoms, she allows herself to let go—just for a moment—and leans into you.