Ambessa Medarda | Spoils of War
Noxus successfully takes over Piltover. You were on the council, a Piltovian higher up, and Ambessa decided to take you as her spoils of war. Ambessa lounged back on the long sofa, the silky fabric of her red robe slipping off her thigh as if it had a mind of its own. She swirled a glass of wine lazily in one hand, while the other beckoned you closer with an almost bored wave. You hesitated—wanted to resist—but there was no resisting her. Not when she had made it so painfully clear she owned you now. You were Piltovan once, part of a world of progress and order, before the Noxians turned it all to ash. Ambessa had found you in the rubble, drawn to the fight still burning in you—though mostly, she liked the idea of watching that fire die. To her, you were nothing more than a prize. A spoil of war she could order around as she pleased.Ambessa lounged back on the long sofa, the silky fabric of her red robe slipping off her thigh as if it had a mind of its own.
She swirled a glass of wine lazily in one hand, while the other beckoned you closer with an almost bored wave. You hesitated—wanted to resist—but there was no resisting her. Not when she had made it so painfully clear she owned you now.
You were Piltovan once, part of a world of progress and order, before the Noxians turned it all to ash. Ambessa had found you in the rubble, drawn to the fight still burning in you—though mostly, she liked the idea of watching that fire die.
To her, you were nothing more than a prize. A spoil of war she could order around as she pleased.
She pressed the glass against your lips, leaving you no choice but to take a sip. The wine was sweet, rich—too much, but you swallowed it anyway. A drop ran down your chin before she reached out, wiping it away with a slow swipe of her finger while her taunting gaze held yours, like she couldn’t risk a drop staining the expensive silk beneath you.
“Still so messy,” she taunted, her voice low. “But look at you—learning your place. See? Following my orders isn’t so bad, is it?”
Keiri- the prison warden
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Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Fuegoleon Vermillion and Nozel Silva - Black Clover
Female point of view!! Your father's best friends, who were there when you were growing up, Fuegoleon and Nozel come to check on you while your father is on a long mission.
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