This is my first attempt at a ship-fic. I read somewhere it's called a "loveteam" fic in Asian culture. Anyway, I don't know how love works in RL, so I'll just pretend I understand and deliver the best I can.
EDIT: Because I'm so driven by and so deeply infatuated with music of varying genres, I want to give my fanfics "theme songs" that I think fit the premise of the story to some degree.
Hope you enjoy~
Chapter 1: Break a Wing, Kid
St. Gertha: An angel who fights on the Fields of Justice donning a suit of chainmail, a tabard representing Kayle's order, and a spear of Heavenly make in her hands. Her wings and hair are silver, and her eyes are blue.
For now, though, St. Gertha has returned from the bath, hair and wings still damp, wearing a freshly cleaned robe with slits cut in the back to fit her wings through. The time was nearly midnight, and St. Gertha spent most of her day doing battle in the Summoner's Rift; most of which matches she and her team lost. She opened the door to her sleeping quarter to find a folded note on the floor. The note was glittering blue and purple. She stooped down, picked up the note, and unfolded it. In beautiful handwriting, the note bore this message:
Gertha, O Gertha, wherever you are
Please come and make me your lucky star
All devices are stowed away forever
I want you all for me, the two of us together
Your eyes so pretty, your hair so fine,
You whisk my heart, and I hope I whisk thine
You haven't noticed me, but maybe you will soon
Please hold this letter, I'll visit tomorrow at noon
The Secret Admirer
As St. Gertha read the note, her heart began to race. Not possible, she thought, turning the note over to see if the "secret admirer" wrote anything else, perhaps a Just kidding or Got you. St. Gertha reread the note again and again, losing her sense of reality every time her eyes scanned the page top to bottom. "It isn't possible," St. Gertha said aloud. In all her disbelief, she found the temperature of her sleeping quarter rising. The Liberator hurriedly folded up the note again and tossed it onto her bed. She covered her face with her hands and splayed her fingers, peeking out at the note, the way it lay there, glittering in the illuminating light. Someone had to have been playing a prank on her! It was too good to be true.
Somebody in the League of Legends was in love with St. Gertha.
She spent the better part of that night pacing her room, her bare feet wearing a rut in the floor. "Calm down," St. Gertha told herself. "Calm down. This is only a dream. It's got to be a dream. Or a joke. Yes, it's only a joke. No man would ever want to be with me. It's all a cruel joke. I'll go to sleep, wake up tomorrow, and whoever wrote the note will not visit me, it'll all be an elaborate scheme, and I'll march right back out into the Fields of Justice and fight.
"Yes. That's what I'll do. Oh, look at this letter, it's glittering. I wonder who put glitter on this letter. Oh my goodness, I'm rambling, but eurgh, I can't help it. Euchre! Euchre!" St. Gertha realized that the volume of her voice was increasing. She clapped her hand over her mouth and looked to her wall, thinking of the person in the next room over trying to sleep. Taking a shaky breath, St. Gertha exhaled, in an attempt to regain her composure. Then she ran to her bed, grabbed her pillow, and pressed it against her face, letting out the loudest scream she could. The pillow muffled St. Gertha's scream. Once she was done, she felt better. She turned off her light, crawled into bed, and went to sleep.
She slept holding the note in her hand.
Before St. Gertha knew it, daylight came. The sun was gleaming through her window. She woke up and realized that she slept the whole morning away. Remembering the note she read last night, St. Gertha sat up and read the note again. Noon was ten minutes away. The secret admirer – ten minutes – noon –
St. Gertha jumped out of bed and ran around her room. She needed something pretty to wear, but all she had was her armor and spear, and a bunch of different robes, all with slits made in the backs. She had white robes, black robes, red robes, and even a blue robe. She knew her fashion sense was a frail one. Wait –
Blue! Like the glitter on her love letter! St. Gertha threw off the robe she slept in, leaving it on the floor, and slipped the blue robe on. St. Gertha hadn't worn this robe in ages. Or maybe at all. The robe was too short, though. The hem ended at her shins. She needed a different robe. And her hair – St. Gertha had a standing mirror in her room. Catching her reflection, she realized that she had to fix her hair, too. What if her secret admirer didn't like it?! By the saints, so little time!
There was a knock at St. Gertha's door. The Liberator yelped – she couldn't believe it, she yelped – like a dog. How humiliating! What if her secret admirer was laughing at her right now?! With caution, St. Gertha approached her door and in a timid squeak, asked, "Who is it?"
The person on the other side of the door sounded like an old woman. "Housekeeping."
St. Gertha unlocked her door and threw it open. Her visitor was indeed an old woman, dressed for work, carrying a broom in one hand, and dustpan in the other. The housekeeper was taken aback by how St. Gertha opened her door. The Liberator cleared her throat and attempted to explain herself.
"I was... reciting my lines for an upcoming stage performance. Your timing was impeccable, by the way; m-my character is quite easily frightened. The knock on the door fit right in with her line, and – and –" And what?
The housekeeper nodded, symphatetically. She must've thought St. Gertha was nuts. "I was in a play once. Should I come back later?"
"No!" St. Gertha said at once. "I mean, please, come in. I don't mind, I was on my way out. Take your time. And if anyone visits, tell them I went for breakfast." St. Gertha squeezed by the housekeeper, accidentally batting the old woman in the face with one of her wings. "Bye!"
Watching St. Gertha run off, the housekeeper muttered, "Kids these days. Running around without shoes on."
Possibility 1: Shaco has finally opened his heart and realized that he was madly in love with Gertha for saving him in the fight with Bel'da
Possibility 2: Its someone random and Shaco is laughing his ass off in stealth mode in her room, watching her sleep and stuff :O
Chapter 2: You Can't Escape Paradise
So, St. Gertha said she was going for breakfast. In truth, she didn't know exactly where the devil she was going. The Institute of War was practically a full-scale city within a citadel. It didn't look that large from the outside, but once you got inside, you'd feel as if you're walking into an entirely new world. There was an endless array of places St. Gertha could have visited. Amidst the Summoners and citizens in the Institute, St. Gertha spotted other Champions who, like her, were deemed safe to be allowed around the common life. Just who could possibly have gone out of their way to leave St. Gertha a love letter last night? She walked by a fountain, where a Champion was resting his legs.
"How are you?" said the Champion sitting on a stone bench in front of the fountain. He was a handsome young man, but St. Gertha didn't recognize him.
"Hello. What's your name?"
"St. Gertha." She watched Jayce for any sign that he might have recognized her and, maybe, possibly, written that letter.
"Nice to meet you."
St. Gertha inclined her head. She decided to play a subtle hand with him. "You've got nice handwriting."
"Thanks, I think. You... too?"
He wasn't the one. St. Gertha was a little disappointed, because he wasn't too bad looking. She could see herself going places with this man, but then again, nobody in the League of Legends was as they seemed. Every Champion had a rough history. Every Champion wore a mask. Did she dare look beyond Jayce's?
"I must go." St. Gertha walked on, quickly, not looking back.
"See you... again?" Jayce said. And she was gone. "Strange woman."
What was St. Gertha thinking?! The culprit – the secret admirer – was back at her sleeping quarter right now, talking to the housekeeper, if anything! What if he got the wrong idea? What if he took St. Gertha's sudden departure as rejection? The longer she mulled this over, the more she lost her sense of direction. Snapping out of her worried trance, St. Gertha up and realized that she was lost. She'd walked for who knew how long, and ended up at the very edge of the Institute of War, where the numbers of citizenry and Summoners were thinner, and where more dangerous Champions were housed. Enforcers patrolling the area didn't seem to mind St. Gertha's intrusion upon the restricted area. One of the enforcers approached her.
"You lost?" he asked.
"No – yes – I mean, no. Forgive me, I'm distracted today. Where is the nearest food court?"
The enforcer answered St. Gertha's question by pointing back the way she came.
"Oh," said St. Gertha, "thanks." Turning to leave, St. Gertha didn't see the small person who was behind her. She tripped over the small person, catching herself on her hands and knees. The little stranger gasped, recovered, and sraightened her tall... tall bent hat. St. Gertha got back up and apologized, noticing the pointy ears poking through the brim of the hat and the cape of purple hair cascading from beneath the headwear. The little person turned around, holding a wooden staff that was taller than she, and regarded St. Gertha with a pale face and a pair of large green eyes. A yordle! Something about yordles made St. Gertha want to squeal; they reminded her of children, and she had a massive soft spot for children.
At least, she thought this girl was a yordle.
"It's alright," the yordle said brightly. A mischievous smile. "Have you seen my friend, Pix?"
The enforcer, now ignored, muttered something under his breath and patrolled on, leaving St. Gertha and this yordle alone.
"I mean," St. Gertha clarified, "what did you say?"
"I'm looking for my friend. Are you looking for a friend, too?"
"Hey! We could be friends! Do you like games?"
"But, weren't you looking for your friend?"
"Oh! That I am. Follow me, follow me." The yordle hooked St. Gertha's forearm with the crook of her wooden staff and turned the Liberator around. The yordle ran back toward Institute Central. St. Gertha shrugged and followed along, keeping up with the bounce, flow, and wave of the yordle's capelike hair and obscenely tall hat.
And they ran for awhile. Ten minutes must've passed by before St. Gertha asked the yordle, "Um, do you know where you're going?" Because they'd been running around aimlessly; St. Gertha felt like she was playing follow-the-leader.
"I'm going everywhere Pix might be hiding! We were playing Hide and Seek an hour ago. Normally I can find him really fast! I'm Lulu, by the way, pleased to meet you! This way!" Lulu veered a hard right, blasting her way between three conversing Summoners. "Pardon us!"
St. Gertha went between them, too. She clipped one of the Summoners' shoulders with her own. "Sorry!"
"I bet Pix is hiding out inside one of the taverns! Tricky! I was banned from every tavern in the Institute!"
"Well," St. Gertha panted, laborously keeping up with Lulu's pace, "you are rather small. Maybe everyone thinks of you as a child."
Lulu suddenly skidded to a stop and held her arm out to the side, bent in a ninety-degree angle, her fist clenched. St. Gertha couldn't stop on a dime like Lulu; the Liberator had to flap her wings and raise herself upward just to dodge the yordle. St. Gertha's feet barely cleared Lulu's skyscraper of a hat. She alitted, relieved she didn't trip over Lulu a second time.
"What's the matter?"
"I hear Pix. Listen, listen."
St. Gertha listened. She heard nothing but the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
The little yordle hooked St. Gertha's forearm again, and proceeded to drag her along, straight toward one of the more heavily occupied pubs in the Institute. Beside the door of the pub stood an enormous big-nosed man whose girth made him look like a human blimp. He was vertically gifted, a tall, red-bearded man with a big wine keg tucked under his arm. All he wore was a loincloth. Lulu tried to drag St. Gertha inside the pub, which made no sense, considering Lulu just got through telling St. Gertha that she'd been banned from every damned pub in the Institute. Of course, the big man beside the door had to be the bouncer. He smelled strong of the wine he was carrying.
Sticking his leg out, the bouncer barred Lulu's entry from the pub. St. Gertha pulled her arm out of the crook of the yordle's staff.
"Move your ham-leg, Gragas! My friend, Pix, is in there!"
"You've caused enough trouble," the man named Gragas slurred, a droplet of wine trickling down into his beard from his bottom lip. "Go away, and we won't have any problems."
"Are you still sore about me turning you into a squirrel?"
"A squirrel – hic! – I'd still flatten you, shrimp. Tell ye what. I'll let you in... if you can out-drink me."
"Sure, my friend, Snowhead, is up for it!"
St. Gertha scowled at that. "Snowhead?"
Gragas tried to focus his drunken eyes on St. Gertha. "Kayle? What're you doin' here?"
"Looking for my secret admirer." St. Gertha didn't mean to let that slip. Lulu suddenly turned and started looking at her funny. "...What?"
"New plan!" Lulu declared, shooting her finger into the air. "It's time to help Snowhead find her friend!"
"Whatever," Gragas said. "Just get lost while you're at it, huh? No, you –" He pointed his finger to St. Gertha's right. "– are okay, you can come in. But you –" He pointed to Lulu's toes. "– can't. You're not allowed in here again. Not 'nless you can outdrink me. That – that's the deal."
A mischievous gleam in her eye. Lulu shrugged. "Sure, Gragas. Just one last thing before me and Snowhead go."
"Stop calling me Snowhead," St. Gertha interjected, only to be ignored.
Lulu raised her staff and cast a magic spell on the pub's doorway. "Woosh!"
The open doorway's threshold was filled with a sheen of white light, like a translucent barrier that no one but St. Gertha, Lulu, and Gragas could see. The door became a vacuum. It sucked St. Gertha and Lulu in. St. Gertha tried to fight the pulling current of wind, but she lost her footing and flew through the light in the doorway. Lulu laughed merrily, letting the wind whisk her away. The two of them flew through the door, and they disappeared, along with the white sheen of light.
And all Gragas did was take another drink of wine from his keg, writing the whole thing off as a drunken hallucination.
Chapter 3: The Hunt for the Secret Admirer
What was this she was feeling?
What kind of magic did this yordle possess?
It was like nothing St. Gertha had ever felt before, as she twisted and turned and whirled her way through empty time and space, another realm, another dimension. It was empty, but peaceful. A place where St. Gertha could sit forever and just dream.
And Lulu, body erect and arms folded, flew up beside St. Gertha, upside-down. "This is a handy new spell I learned! Don't close your eyes here, because you'll fall a-dream and sleep will become reality!" She punctuated her ludicrous statement with a snort and a giggle.
"Lulu?" The Liberator was stuck in a slow cartwheeling motion. "What did you just do?"
"I took us through... um... I dunno what to call it! How about Glade Door? We're teleporting by way of door. We cast the spell, go through the door, and come out of another door somewhere in the Institute. Neat, huh?"
St. Gertha closed her eyes and let out a sigh. This Lulu was a handful, but she was so adorable at the same time.
Lulu gasped. "No! You closed your eyes! Now you're going to dream!"
St.Gertha woke up to a vision that she swore she'd never tell to anyone until the end of time. What was that vision? St. Gertha wished she never knew.
She was sitting on her bed in the vision, and she had her secret admirer in her arms. The secret admirer nuzzled her and hugged her, and the admirer kissed her and whispered sweet nothings into her ear. But as it turned out, in that vision, the secret admirer was Lulu.
St. Gertha woke up screaming.
"Whoa!" Lulu said. "What'd you see, what'd you see? What'd you dream?"
"Nothing!" St. Gertha might've been in a cold sweat after seeing that, but she couldn't tell. "Please, Lulu, get us out of here."
Smiling, the upside-down yordle pointed up ahead (direction really meant nothing here) at a body of light formed into a rectangular shape, about the size of a doorway. "We found one! Maybe your secret admirer's in there!"
St. Gertha wasn't ready for this. She wanted to put the mystery to rest, but at the same time she was afraid to face this person. Around the time she and Lulu went through the glowing doorway of light, St. Gertha wished she were the one helping Lulu find her companion.
Crossing back into the realm of reality, a wooden door inside a sleeping quarter burst open, and the angel and the yordle fell into someone's bedroom. That someone just so happened to be a man with no shirt on, posing in front of a standing mirror, the same as St. Gertha's. He had a wild hairdo and a Noxian style mustache that had grown so long it hung off his face. This man was covered in red-stripe tattoos and scars and thick muscle.
He saw St. Gertha and Lulu in his mirror and turned around, grinning. It wasn't a pleasant kind of grin, but a poisonous one. He was a bad man, and his sleeping quater, decorated to fit his whimsy, betrayed a story of years of war.
"Well, it looks like a couple of adoring fans have come to see me." The man rounded the edge of his bed, approaching St. Gertha and Lulu with a menacing look in his eye. Lulu jumped to her feet and pointed her staff at the man. He halted, thinking twice.
"Wanna play tag?" she asked him. St. Gertha climbed to her feet and brushed dust off her once clean blue robe.
The man punched his palm and cracked his knuckles, still grinning. "Sure. Am I it?"
She uttered the incantation, and shot a ball of glittering light into the man's chest, transforming him into a chattering little chipmunk. And Lulu laughed wildly at him, snorting in between her bouts of crazed laughter. That was when a siren went off. It wasn't a mechanical siren, but a magically generated one, its wail deep and ranging from low to high at a medium tempo. By way of the magic security system, St. Gertha felt the message loud and clear: Someone in the sleeping quarter has been attacked, and now the enforcers were being deployed.
"Lulu, use your door spell! Quickly!"
The little yordle lit the man's door up with her magic, and the two of them jumped inside the white light coating the door. Lulu bade the chipmunk farewell as she entered. "Bye, Draven!"
They were back inside the warp realm. Unlike before, many bodies of light now formed into doorways before them. They now had a choice of where to go, but St. Gertha couldn't see what lay beyond any of the doorways. That was of little consequence, though, because at least Lulu was there to help out. She hooked her staff crook around St. Gertha's neck and pulled – "Ow! Lulu!" – St. Gertha toward a random door.
They passed through the light, and made a stumbling return to the material realm, out the back door of a Noxian pub at the edge of the Institute. In the shrouded alleyway, a mechanical woman with a giant windup key lodged in her back was sitting on a useless old crate, rocking her head side to side, reciting, "Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick." Her tick-ticking and head wagging stopped when she saw St. Gertha. "I remember. You. Soft thing. Yes, it is good to. See you. Again. Are you enjoying your. Stay?"
There was never a time since receiving the love letter last night that St. Gertha lost all of her nerve and dignity in one instant. This nightmarish miscreation of a mechano-woman was the bane to all of St. Gertha's bearings. They met the night St. Gertha first arrived, out in the Summoner's Rift, and they were enemies back then. The way this mechanical woman moved resembled the mannerisms of a demon that used to haunt St. Gertha's dreams when she was a child. St. Gertha rose into the air and flapped her way over Lulu's head, landing down behind the yordle in a low, desperate crouch, trying to put herself out of sight of Orianna, the Lady of Clockwork.
Lulu turned around. "Hey, what's the matter, Snowhead? You're not scared, are you? Wanna hide?"
"I don't want to do this anymore," St. Gertha said quickly, keeping a careful eye on Orianna. "Let's just go look for your friend instead."
Lulu smiled at her. The yordle looked like she understood St. Gertha's desperation to leave. She pat-patted St. Gertha's silver mane, and said, "Nope!"
Orianna stood up from her crate. In fast-twitch reaction, St. Gertha flapped her wings, buffeting Lulu with a gust of wind as she sailed in a backward arc, putting distance between herself and Orianna. Landing, St. Gertha put her hands up peacefully. "I don't want to fight you."
"You think I. Want to fight? That does sound like fun. Fight is. Not allowed here. Tick-tick. You are. Looking for someone." She cocked her head. "Did they leave you a. Letter?"
Well, St. Gertha thought, that's not suspicious at all.
"What do you know about the letter?" St. Gertha asked seriously.
Orianna recited a monotone poem. "Gertha, O. Gertha. Wherever you are. Tick-tick. Please come and make me your. Lucky star."
St. Gertha's mouth went dry. She must've started breaking out in a full-body sweat. Lulu's expression went blank as she traded her gaze between Orianna and St. Gertha. Licking her lips, St. Gertha said, "N-no, that... that wasn't you. You didn't write that letter."
To the Liberator's relief, Orianna replied, "No, I. Did not. Tick-tick. I was the one who. Helped him. He was kind and. Handsome. Tick. Were I a human, I'd have. Stolen him my. Self."
"Please." St. Gertha bypassed Lulu and shambled up to Orianna. "Please." St. Gertha forgot her fear of the mechanical woman and put her hands on Orianna's cold alloy shoulders. "Please. Orianna. Please... tell me who it was."
Orianna's head roated three hundred sixty degrees before she answered. "I cannot tell you. He made me promise I'd. Not tell. He was afraid you'd. Be angry. Or sad. Tick-tick."
The Liberator let go of Orianna's shoulders and let out the heaviest sigh she'd made all day. "Thank you." St. Gertha turned away and dragged her feet back over to Lulu. "Let's go. I'm done here."
Not missing a beat, Lulu cheerfully wove her magic, turning the pub's back door into a portal. St. Gertha passed through the portal, followed by Lulu. As the portal vanished, Orianna spun her head one way, twirled her body the opposite way, and laughed.
Chapter 4: A-Ha
And they magic-warped right back into St. Gertha's quarter. Walking out of the body of light in place of St. Gertha's door, the two of them kept their composure. The light vanished. Lulu took one look around and whistled. "Nice room."
St. Gertha, on the other hand, was looking at the one thing that, for whatever reason, Lulu somehow, some way, managed to overlook. And that one thing was the old woman, the housekeeper from before, lying facedown on the floor between her broom and dustpan, snoring. Leaving Lulu to her own device of whatever thoughts and dreams rolled around inside that head of hers, St. Gertha crouched beside the housekeeper and shook her shoulder. The old woman woke up and smacked her lips.
"What happened?" St. Gertha asked her.
The old woman hoisted herself to her hands and knees. She said, "Your visitor showed up. I don't... remember much. I can't remember what they looked like. I barely got a look at them and... now you're here."
Before St. Gertha could start suspecting foul play, Lulu said, "Hey, Snowhead! Is this your letter?" She was holding the note from last night. The sun shone through the window, making the note glitter brighter than before. Lulu picked some of the blue and purple glitter off the note and poked it into her mouth, tasting it. Her verdict: "This letter is covered in magic."
"I don't know how I'm going to explain this to my boss," the old housekeeper was saying as St. Gertha guided her to her feet.
"It's alright," St. Gertha assured her. "Tell him what happened here. And if he questions you further, I'll talk to him. This is my fault – I should have told you to come back later. Forgive me."
"Oh, it's fine, dear. At least whoever it was let me down easy. I'm not hurt or anything. I actually feel pretty good after that nap."
The housekeeper gathered her cleaning tools and departed. St. Gertha asked Lulu to hand her the note. Lulu didn't. After tasting the "magic" on the note, she studied it more closely. Then she looked up at St. Gertha.
That mischievous grin.
"Here you go," she said slyly, returned the note to St. Gertha. "I think I know who your secret admirer is."
Lulu giggled. "You'll find out soon!" She turned St. Gertha's door into a portal and zipped through the light. St. Gertha tried to follow after her, but the light vanished, and the Liberator ran face-first into her door.
What on earth was that about?
St. Gertha pulled her door open and stepped outside of her quarter. When she turned around to close the door, she found another note, glittering blue and purple, folded up and stuck to her door. She pulled the note down, unfolded it quickly, and read that same beautiful handwriting that graced her first one. This one wasn't a poem; it was a fully written letter.
I'm sorry, I was too sudden. I didn't mean to scare you away. When I knocked and that housekeeper opened the door, I was afraid she'd scream, so I put her to sleep with my magic. I gently lowered her to the ground, so she wouldn't hurt herself. It wasn't my intention to hurt anyone. Would you be willing to meet me at the Institute's main doors tonight? I'll be waiting there.
Your Secret Admirer
St. Gertha folded the note up, steeled her nerves, and made her way to the doors of the Institute. She didn't want to wait until tonight.
She wanted to see this man now.
Chapter 5: And the Secret Admirer is...!
St. Gertha: An angel who pays her dues on the Fields of Justice. Her battle-wear a suit of chainmail and a spear blessed by the Heavens above, this Liberator fights in the name of spiritual freedom. Lost ghosts of citizens and soldiers are drawn to her like moths to firelight, and until now, she was only loved and cherished by her ghost compatriots.
Now, for the first time in almost fifty years, somebody wanted her love.
Children weren't St. Gertha's only weakness; when it came to romance and relationships, she was a lovesick fool. Her long, immortal life before she became an angel put a cold divide between her and the men who thought she was their one and only. Learning of St. Gertha's ghost-summoning, immortality situation, the men she'd forged relationships with left her for women their own age (St. Gertha's appearance back then was youthful, despite her being approximately fifty years of age at the time). She was ever so lonely. She didn't admit it to anyone, but she was covetous, too. There was one incident when she tried to steal a man from a woman she hated....
But that was another story all-together – a story not worth telling.
As St. Gettha waited the hours away at the main doors of the Institute of War, watching life in the inner workings of the Institute go by, she reflected on her own long past, to see how much she thought she remembered. Her memory of her childhood years was befuddled by the staff Kayle gave her back then, but with her recent transformation into an angel she regained her true memory. St. Gertha's true parents succumbed to Bel'Dea's trickery – Shaco was involved with it. He helped Bel'Dea turn them to her. St. Gertha hated Shaco from the moment she met him four months ago. With the new knowledge that he played such a major part in twisting St. Gertha's fate to what it was, she had all the more reason to hate him.
She shook her head about, dishelving her silver locks. She didn't want to focus on her lowdown past. Not at a time like this. Her bad memories only sucked away her happiness, and now was not the time to be unhappy. St. Gertha was finally going to love again – hopefully she wouldn't scare this one away.
A few times in her long wait at the Institute doors, St. Gertha traveled back inside the Institute and visited shops, food courts, and spoke to familiar faces, namely the Ionian woman, Karma. And she saw Lulu again, but Lulu was off in her own world, running around the Institute and casting harmless spells all over the place, making things glow momentarily. Some of those things were people.
St. Gertha wondered where her friend, Ashe, has been this whole time. Maybe she went back to the Freljord again.
As the sun finally started to sink below the western horizon, growing shadows were cast by the orange light glaring through the Institute's windows. The sun set, night fell, and St. Gertha stood at the main doors, arms folded behind her back, still wearing her short blue robe, her bare feet dirty from all the traveling she did on foot, keeping her eyes peeled for anyone who might've been her secret admirer.
She saw Master Yi – it wasn't him. She saw a blonde-haired young man who called himself Ezreal. It wasn't him either, unfortunately. St. Gertha saw... Lucian? No, he wasn't the secret admirer, although he did look her way in passing. On the day of St. Gertha's induction into the League of Legends, Lucian had approached her, requesting her aid in freeing the spirit of his wife, Senna, from a monster named Thresh. St. Gertha agreed to help Lucian, and neither of them forgot that agreement. Lucian, his face stoney and gaze just as rough, nodded at St. Gertha. She nodded back, and the Purifier walked on.
Summoners were strolling hither and thither. Citizens were walking places with their children – this wasn't a place for children, and St. Gertha wanted to tell those idiots that, but she was too distracted. St. Gertha let out a sigh, fluffing her feathers with a shake of her wings. The wait was long and monotonous, but she just had to stay the course. They were going to show up eventually.
What if she was stood up? What if this was all a big joke, after all? What if Shaco was behind it? He'd snuck into her sleeping quarter once before, and right into her bed. She even thought her wildest dream was coming true – a man sneaking into her bed in the middle of the night, just to spend a night with her. St. Gertha told herself over and over: If this was all Shaco's doing, she was going to harass him and attack him and sic her ghosts on him until he'd lose his insanity and become a normal person.
Meaning, she'd torment the Demon Jester to no end. After all, they were both immortal. She'd love to test his sense of humor, and see just how long he was willing to laugh at her, while she was spending every waking moment trying to shove her spear straight up his ass. He wouldn't laught at that.
No, St. Gertha's thoughts were intoxicated again. She didn't want to think about Shaco or anything bad. She just wanted to see her secret admirer.
And then, without warning, the time came. Out of the crowd of people, St. Gertha saw her secret admirer. It was unmistakably her secret admirer, because he was holding a blue-purple glittering note.
He was smaller than a human.
He was smaller than a yordle.
He was flying on wicked monarchal wings.
He was not human. He was not anything from this world.
St. Gertha mistook him for an overgrown butterfly – a humanoid butterfly?
The creature had little claws for hands, and sharp, pointy feet.
From a distance, he looked dangerous, despite his small size.
His silhouetted body punctuated the glow of his eyes.
The natural shape of his eyes made him look menacing.
But St. Gertha saw, in his eyes, that he was happy to see her.
The creature was a faerie. It had to be. Squinting his eyes joyfully, the faerie unfolded the note with his little claw hands, and revealed a message to St. Gertha: Hi! My name is Pix.
The writing on the note turned to vapor, and new loops and curls wrote themselves: I'm sorry about before, St. Gertha. I had to give Lulu the slip. I didn't want her to follow me here.
"You're... my secret admirer?"
The words changed magically on the faerie's note: Yes. I know you might be disappointed, but don't fret. The words changed again: I have a secret that not even Lulu knows. She isn't aware of what happens when you kiss a faerie.
"Are you saying... you want me to... kiss you?"
If you do, the changing words on the note read, I will become a human form of myself. It's an ancient power that's been a secret to my kind for generations. Where I'm from, when a human or yordle kisses a faerie, we transform into one of them.
"I..." The Liberator was speechless. A faerie... She was expecting a human, but... a faerie?
At this point, St. Gertha reached her wits' end. She didn't want to hurt Pix's feelings by walking away. She decided to fulfill his request. After all, he was only a faerie. What harm could it do?
St. Gertha held out her open hand, and Pix made his note vanish in a puff of smoke and glitter. He fluttered over and landed in St. Gertha's palm. Bringing him close to her face, St. Gertha kissed the faerie on the head.
Pix's body was then coated in purple energy. St. Gertha dropped him out of reflex, but he only floated to the ground. She backed away from him, and that purple silhouette of energy grew upward, and widened, and materialized.
Before St. Gertha stood a handsome young human with purple wavy hair. His eyes were a brighter shade of violet, like the color of flowers. He was dressed in an extremely colorful shawl, shirt, and pants. Like St. Gertha, he was bare-footed. He had no wings in this form.
"Hello, St. Gertha," Pix the human said. His voice was as silky and smooth as St. Gertha expected it to be. It wasn't too deep, and it wasn't too high. "You look even prettier up close."
Her face did flush at the compliment. "This is unbelievable," she said.
At this, Pix smiled, his teeth so white and perfect. "You becoming an angel is unbelievable. I thought you were beautiful as a human. But now... you're perfect." Pix held out his human hand, the same way St. Gertha held hers out before. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
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