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Caitlyn sat alone at the dining table set for two. Dinner was a quiet affair. The servants cleared both plates, and she retired to her bedroom — their bedroom — and tried not to think about her girlfriend.
The bed she slept in every night grew tonight, until she drowned in the blankets. Her hand found cold pillows and equally cold sheets. Caitlyn curled into a makeshift body of feathers and cloth. It was a poor substitute for the love and warmth she had grown accustomed and clung to for the past few months as if it were her right. Fingers clawed closed, and she willed herself not to cry.
It was unreasonable. It was unacceptable under the Kiramman name. Vi would be back in the morning, as she had every month hence far. As she had promised. Why does this emptiness feel like forever, her monthly penitence?
For all of her sniper and combat training, Caitlyn had never been good at this particular battle. How do you shoot an abstraction of yourself?
Sobs flooded through her body until the pillows and blankets became impossibly colder with cooled tears. She fell asleep with ghosts of a wail on her lips and nose buried in the fading fragrance of Vi’s shampoo.
By the time Vi waltz through the door, the bed was made, her hair brushed, and her smile cheerily welcoming in the bright morning light as she dressed for work. Vi would never know that sleep wrestled with her all night and that she managed only a cumulative of maybe two hours.
Vi played her the same favor, flashing a disarming toothy grin. The werewolf flung herself onto their bed, no doubt breathing in Caitlyn’s scent. Caitlyn felt a swell of relief. She was still wanted. No doubt, she would be missing her nightgown in the evening only for the maids to find it stuffed in a pillowcase tomorrow.
“Did you have a nice night, darling?” Smiles, smiles. A tilt of the head to show polite attention. Her heart gnawed at the ribcage.
“It was alright,” Vi said. “Nothing like the comforts of home.”
She only hummed in acknowledgement. The two went about their day.
And so went the routine. Neither mentioned the haggard bagged eyes. Neither mentioned the lies with an opacity of a mirror.
Their monthly timer restarted. The moon counted the seconds.
There were times when she wondered where Vi spent those full moons. What roof saw her through the rain and wind? Whose company was deemed safer during Vi’s most vulnerable time?
She swallowed down the bitterness. Vi was allowed her autonomy. She refused to turn their home into another prison. So Vi would leave during her transitions, and Caitlyn would ask no questions.
Her pillow smelled of Vi and the slight sting of Zaun for tonight.
One day, hail and thunder plundered Piltover. It crashed all morning and crashed all afternoon, and come the late evening of the full moon, hell stayed. The weather advisory all but proclaimed the end of the world.
In the waning hours, Vi paced back and forth in the hallway. “I’ve got to go, cupcake.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” she said, begging really. “Where would you even go?”
“I could go to Ekko’s tree.”
Caitlyn frowned. “ Could ? What do you mean ‘ could’ ? Where do you usually go?”
There she said it, that burning question that had been haunting her for months.
Vi’s shoulders scrunched up in embarrassment. “I don’t usually stick to one place often.”
Oh, so apparently homelessness is a better option than staying with Caitlyn. She wanted to scream.
Outside, rumbling lightning highlighted the volleys hurling down. Sharp rings at each impact on the windows hinted at their force.
Vi would die out there, stoned to death by the hail for the sins of her birth and her pride. She saw Vi again on her bed after the first battle against Ambessa, broken, barely alive as the doctors rushed and shoved her out of the way. She couldn’t relive that. Not again. Never again. Fear bubbled hot into fury.
“Do you hate me so much,” she spat, “that dying is worth leaving me again?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. It’s for your own good. Have you ever seen a werewolf turn? News flash, it’s ugly!”
“Oh please, spare me the theatrics. I’ve seen you transition plenty of times.”
“Never during a full moon. I’ll kill you! ”
“Plenty of people can keep their transitions in check. It doesn’t turn you mindless!”
“It does to me!” Vi looked ready for a fight. “My…” she drew a shaky breath. “My first real transition was in Stillwater. The full moon is just… different. I never remember anything, and sometimes I wake up in blood.” She ground her teeth.
They stared out the window.
Their timer continued to tick.
“The bunker.”
Caitlyn physically recoiled. “I will not jail you.”
“It’s either that or I leave. Your choice, cupcake.” The werewolf shook her head and rolled her shoulders. They were running out of time. “And you have to lock the door.”
Vi had autonomy, and she would respect her decisions. She had spent their time together ensuring Vi would never feel chained to anything again, but here her girlfriend was asking her to do exactly that or risk never seeing her again. Caitlyn nearly laughed at the irony.
She was not a funny person.
Without another word, boots turned at the heel with a purpose. Vi followed. They gathered what comforts they could— blankets, pillows, scented candles, some provisions, and a pistol “just in case,” Vi had said — before descending the elevator shaft.
Her teeth clenched until muscles fatigued. This was a cruel, cruel joke.
The bunker had hardly seen use since the battle. It breathed life to the days dictated by desperation for survival. The cold stone walls bleed memories both would rather forget.
Vi staggered straight to Jinx’s cell. They settled their things on their respective sides. Vi’s food and water laid out on one side of the cell in their respective bowels. The bedding nested on the other. It was almost like a picnic or sleepover were it not for the tension. Caitlyn passed a used shirt through the cell doors. The werewolf accepted it gratefully and placed it on her pillow. Then the doors closed. A metallic click finalized the deal.
They were really doing this.
Flickering candles attempted to soothe the mood. Caitlyn read aloud from her book from where sat on her blankets, a foot or two from reach at Vi’s insistence, a good distance from the bars. Vi half listened from hers. Seconds stretched like hours.
“Maybe it’s not coming,” she said.
Vi looked at her like she was stupid.
Caitlyn continued reading. The words brought about a sense of simplicity and routine. If she closed her eye, she could pretend it was a normal night and that they were intertwined in bed instead of divided by iron bars.
It was only in a matter of time when Vi’s low whimper sliced through the air. It started gradually with a whispered charge in the air that grew into a cry. Caitlyn was immediately on her feet.
“Vi? What can I do? Vi?” She took a step forward only to be met with a fierce cry.
“ Don’t come any closer.”
And so she stood there helplessly. Vi wasn’t lying when she accused her of never experiencing a transition during a full moon. On the few occasions she’d seen Vi morphed, it was always smooth, almost seamless. The bulk of her grew, and fur would gloss over skin until an adorably massive wolf stood in her stead. Vi would then smile, snout thick with teeth and wink. Loving, protective grey eyes would always glance her way. When the wolf came, it was always under Vi’s terms. Her soft, cuddly wolf.
Now, the wolf forced its way out, swiftly clawing its way to existence at the price of Vi’s body and mind. Limbs twisted, joints popped, and bones creaked while human groans became animalistic whimpers and growls. Clawed hands scratched where new fur sprouted as if it were fire. The strands soaked up her tears.
Vi tried to bury her snout into Caitlyn’s used shirt but when that proved insufficient, she punched the wall. Again and again, each strike more powerful than the last. The wall wheezed in protest.
Caitlyn’s heart ached that Vi’s only escape was more pain. Her stomach plummeted at the fear that the bars may not hold. Once again, this cell brought back bad memories.
Vi looked like Vander, half-wolf and half-man with the combined rage of both.
She must have made a sound, a hitch of a breath or a shift of the blankets, for the eyes of the beast turned her way. They saw the cell doors and then what laid beyond. In the candlelight, grey reflected tinted yellow. She thought she saw a flicker of recognition.
It took only a second for Vi to launch herself at the bars, arms reaching yet not quite grabbing. Saliva dripped from teeth snarled with unconfined fury.
Caitlyn could feel the wind of each swipe, and she scrambled to present all six feet of her. She tried to put up an air of confidence though her bottom lip quivered and every fiber of her being screamed at her to just run . The pistol strapped to her calf burned ice cold.
But this was Vi, not some dangerous animal. Fingers flexed but stayed at her sides.
She slowly sat down in her blankets, careful to remain out of reach. Caitlyn sat, and she stared, trying to distill some calming pheromones, as if that was something a non-werewolf could even do. “It’s ok,” she said. She didn’t know if she was begging for Vi or herself. “Everything is going to be ok.” It felt silly, but it was the only comfort she was able to afford. Still, she would rather be here than cry into her pillows for yet another night.
Vi thrashed and howled and paced. She’d claw at the walls and kick at the doors. Caitlyn continued to watch passively, her face in perfected neutrality.
In time, she began to notice similar mannerisms between this creature and her Vi. Their right ear would twitch in annoyance. They would make little snorting noises as if they were talking. And they were a terribly messy eater.
Eventually, the pacing slowed, and Vi settled in her bedding, looking mournfully between the doors and Caitlyn.
“You know I can’t let you out.”
She received a growl in reply.
“Tantrum all you want, it’s not going to change anything.”
An indignant huff.
And so they sat, watching each other in an uneasy treaty. Caitlyn didn’t know when she fell asleep, but the next thing she knew was the sound of Vi, human Vi, groaning.
“Morning, cupcake. Wanna let me out?”
This became their routine for the next five months. At every full moon, they would head down to the bunker, and for one night, Vi would resume the life of a prisoner and Caitlyn an enforcer. Vi never complained, and Caitlyn was selfish enough to never utter a word on the matter. She liked to imagine Vi was selfish to stay.
It became easier. Caitlyn learned this wolf form worked under Vi’s baser instincts, and although it thrashed under the confinement of the prison, Vi was still under there. She was still reasonable. Fear was met with violence while kindness was returned with cautious curiosity. Caitlyn posited that no one protected Vi in Stillwater, so the wolf took up the mantle herself.
She would read to her. She conversed, taking grunts and growls as legitimate answers. Eventually, she was able to sit close enough that a paw could barely touch the bottoms of her boot. It was safe, yet still fulfilled their desire to touch. Vi’s arm stretched as far as it could to apply that slight pressure at her foot that filled Caitlyn with warmth. Grey eyes would watch her carefully, wide with that yellow tint she was slowly growing fond of. Sometimes, she would catch a familiar adoring look, usually when Vi’s snout was buried in one of her clothes.
Somewhere in there, Vi still loved her.
In the mornings, Vi would remember bits and pieces, mostly feelings and wisps of iron and leather. It was better than nothing. It was getting better.
“The wolf was really happy last night,” Vi said, stretching her sore muscles. “What did you do , cupcake?” Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively.
Caitlyn’s cheeks pinked. “I did nothing of the sort!”
She, in fact, didn’t do anything. It wasn’t her at all. During the next full moon, Caitlyn stood frozen in abject horror as the jail bar wobbled and rang free. Her calf burned cold again, this time against the cold bunker air where she had neglected to bring her pistol.
“Vi!” she shouted. There was a chance that Vi was still in there and that she remembered her. Defenseless without a bullet or blade to cushion her death, Caitlyn bet her life on their love.
The werewolf pounced.
She tried to sidestep, but arms closed over her anyway.
Caitlyn squeezed her eye closed.
A wall of pure muscle slammed her to the ground.
A second passed. Then two. Ten seconds ticked. It was difficult to breathe. She had to force her ribs to expand, but she was, in fact, still breathing. She was also curiously quite warm, and there was a distinct lack of pain.
Caitlyn willed herself to still her beating heart and gingerly opened her eye. All it saw was reddish-pink fur. She was enveloped by it. A large clawed hand wrapped its way around her back and up to cradle the back of her head from the hard floor. The other secured its spot around her waist.
In essence, the werewolf had her in a rather tight embrace, and try as she might, she couldn’t struggle out.
“This ground is filthy. Get off me, you cotton ball!”
Vi only whined and shoved her face further into the crook of her neck.
Caitlyn sighed. She supposed this was better than dying . Her breathing slowed as hands fisted into the soft fur. Vi was still in there. She wouldn’t hurt her.
She fell asleep to the werewolf grumbling purs. Maybe Caitlyn could get used to this. She hoped Vi would let her. One day, this cuddly monster would understand that she loved her in every form.
For now, she contented with momentary bliss. The consequences of tomorrow drifted to a distant memory.