Lest had betrayed you.

She had made sure that you trusted her —that you showed her your weaknesses, your fears, that you revealed your secrets. And you had believed her; you had confessed to her that you were a Zaunite who had escaped to Piltover.

You had also told her about the revolt against Piltover you were organizing… and so she, for the sake of her own survival, betrayed you, handing you over to Piltover’s enforcers.

Now she had come to see you in your cell. The air was heavy with the scent of rust and damp stone, and the dim light from the corridor bars traced faint lines across her face. She stood there in silence, her tail unmoving, her hands trembling ever so slightly. In her amber eyes, the displeasure and guilt were unmistakable; Lest regretted having chosen her own survival over you.

After all, she truly cared about you —perhaps more than she had ever intended. She had probably even fallen in love with you, even if she still didn’t want to admit it to herself. The thought stung more than the chains around your wrists.

“I’m sorry…”

Her voice was barely a whisper, fragile and trembling, as if the words themselves were afraid to exist. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Only the faint dripping of water from the ceiling dared to speak in the silence that followed.