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Chapter Text

The crack of a rifle echoed over the Kiramman estate, sharp and clean. Cassandra adjusted her grip and took a breath, eyes narrowing on the target pinned to a tree at the far end of the field. The evening sun glinted off the scope. The rifle in her arms felt like an extension of her body, perfectly balanced, perfectly aligned.

She steadied her breath, exhaled, fired.

The sharp crack split the silence. The bullet buried itself in the center of the wooden target at the far end of the clearing, just to the left of the bullseye.

“Not perfect,” she murmured, frowning.

The brown mare tethered a few meters away pawed at the ground, ears flicking at the sound. Cassandra slung her rifle over her back and straightened, brushing leaves off her trousers. She swung herself up onto the saddle with practiced ease, gripping the reins loosely in one hand. Her mother would be expecting her for dinner. Another lecture, no doubt, something about responsibility, politics, being the heir of a great house. Cassandra turned the mare toward the path and clicked her tongue.

“Let’s go, Liora.” The horse hesitated. Cassandra urged. “Come on.”

The mare bolted.

A snap of tension. A sudden jolt. Cassandra’s weight pitched forward, then back, too far back. Her feet slipped from the stirrups, the reins tore from her fingers. She hit the ground before she had time to scream. It happened too fast.

The moment she opened her eyes again, the world fuzzed at the edges, her vision tunneled. Cold mud pressed against her cheek. She could taste iron and earth. Then came the pain. She couldn't move her legs. She couldn’t even turn her head without stars bursting in her eyes.

Someone shouted her name. At first, she thought it might be her mother’s voice, sharp, furious, scared. Then someone else's hands were on her face, tapping her cheeks. "Miss Kiramman? Hey, stay with me." A medic.

She lost consciousness before they lifted her from the ground.

—

The next time she opened her eyes, the light was brutal, the air smelled of antiseptic and medication – a hospital. Cassandra blinked slowly, the room was unfamiliar to her. Her head throbbed. Everything below her ribs felt like it belonged to someone else, numb, tingling, and immobile. She tried to move her legs. Nothing happened.

“Hey. Try not to move.” A voice said from somewhere near the window. The voice was low, gently amused, not her mother, not a nurse, a man’s voice. "You're fresh out of surgery. Try not to rip out the work we just did."

She turned her head slightly, wincing, to see a man standing by the window, white coat open over purple scrubs. He was younger than she expected, tall, lean, with unmistakable Ionian eyes and dark blue hair. 

"You operated on me?" she rasped. Her voice sounded too dry.

He stepped closer, now standing at the side of her bed. “Dr. Tobias Valekor,” he said softly. “Senior resident, pediatric surgery. I was part of the team that repaired your abdomen and stabilized your spine. You took quite the fall."

Cassandra frowned. "You're a children’s doctor."

He smiled faintly. “Usually. But when we get trauma from the Kiramman estate, of all places, where Councilor's daughter falls off a horse and ruptures her spleen, breaks two ribs, and fractures a lumbar vertebra... every hand is needed.”

Cassandra blinked again. “Spleen? You removed it?”

“No,” he shook his head. “We clamped the bleed and reinforced the capsule. You got lucky. If you’d landed lower, we’d be having a different conversation.”

She was silent for a moment. Her left leg was numb. She wanted to ask if she would walk again, but didn’t dare to ask it out loud.

The surgeon must have seen it in her face. “You have motor function,” he said gently. “Numbness is expected. There's swelling near L3 and L4. We installed temporary hardware to stabilize your spine. With time and physical therapy, you’ll likely regain full function.”

That word *likely* hung in the air like a death sentence. But he said it so plainly, like it was just a regular thing to say. 

Cassandra’s fingers curled over the edge of the sheet. “How long will I be here?”

“At least two weeks. Probably more, depending on how your recovery goes.”

“My mother’s going to lose her mind.” She snorted, looking up at the ceiling.

“She already did,” he admitted, almost amused. “She’s currently arguing with the head of surgery in the hallway. Likely making her consider early retirement.”

Cassandra closed her eyes. “Gods.” He waited, respectful. 

Then, she looked at him again. “How old are you?”

Tobias raised a brow at the shift in topic. “Twenty three.” 

“You’re barely older than me.” She huffed. 

“And still, I'm a doctor.”

“Do all residents do trauma surgery?”

“No,” he admitted. “But the attending on call knew I’d done my trauma elective early, and your condition deteriorated on the way in. So I scrubbed in.”

Her gaze sharpened. “So you weren’t supposed to be there.”

“I wasn’t. But if I hadn’t been, you might not have made it.”

They stared at each other for a beat. Then Cassandra commanded like only a true Kiramman heir could do. “I want my chart.”

Tobias blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I want to see the notes. Imaging. Surgery report. All of it.”

“You’re post-op day zero and still on morphine.”

“I am not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Then don’t treat me like I am.” 

He didn’t smile this time, but didn’t get angry either. Instead, he stepped away, walked to the counter, returned with a clipboard and handed it to her.

Cassandra flipped through the pages. The images were brutal, black and white scans of her spine, annotated in thin blue letters, the hairline fracture across her L3 as obvious as a crack in glass. She stopped when she saw the surgical photo. Her abdominal cavity, opened, clamped, bleeding. Her spleen like a bruised fruit. Her rib partially retracted to access the internal bleeding. She swallowed. Then handed the clipboard back.

“You went in through the upper quadrant to reach the retroperitoneum?” she asked quietly.

He raised a brow. “You read medical textbooks?”

“Sometimes. Mostly anatomy manuals. I’ve shot things, Doctor, I like to know what’s behind the skin.”

That got a smile. “Good aim?”

“Excellent aim.” 

Tobias looked at her for a long moment. “I’ll make sure you see the physical therapist tomorrow,” he said finally. “You’ll feel worse before you feel better, but I’ve seen worse recoveries than yours. Much worse.” Cassandra didn’t say anything, just nodded. 

Tobias started toward the door, then paused. “Don’t push yourself too hard yet,” he said over his shoulder. “And if you get dizzy or feel any tingling in your hands, press the call button. That means your spine’s angry.”

She watched him go. He didn’t look back.

—

That night, the hospital was loud in a quiet way. Machines beeped and pulsed, IVs hissed faintly with medication. Cassandra stared at the ceiling, she couldn’t sleep and tried not to move.

Her back throbbed, deep and rhythmic. Every shift of her ribs sent a bloom of ache into her gut. They had kept her NPO until the swelling went down. She was starving.

At some point, a nurse came to check her vitals. Cassandra kept her eyes closed, but she could hear the soft clatter of the cuff, feel the gentle pressure on her arm. Her heart rate was high, but she didn’t say anything. The nurse adjusted the morphine line, muttered something about inflammation, and left again.

The second morning in the hospital began with a scream, not hers. Somewhere down the hall, a child howled in that raw, primal pitch that meant either a broken bone or a broken promise. A nurse’s voice followed, calm but rushed, cutting through the usual background music of a hospital. Cassandra blinked toward the window, where morning light slid through, spilling across the floor in sharp streaks.

Her back still throbbed like a tide, her mouth tasted like metal. The morphine helped, but didn’t stop the pain completely.

There was a knock at the door. She opened one eye. It was that doctor again. He held something wrapped in paper. He didn’t come in, just leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m not technically supposed to do this,” Tobias gave her a small smile. “But you haven’t eaten, and you’re cleared for softs as of this morning.”

She stared at the package. “Is that a bribe?”

“It’s soup. From the night staff, Piltover Central makes awful food, and I owe them three favors.”

“You give soup to all your patients?” She blinked, surprised.

“No. Just the ones who tell me they’ve shot things.”

She laughed, it hurt. He smiled.

Cassandra was halfway through the cup of soup Tobias had left when the storm truly arrived. A knock on the door, sharp and familiar. She had enough time to groan, “No-” before the door flew open.

Councilor Cecelia Kiramman swept in like a thundercloud, flanked by a sharp-faced vastaya assistant. She wore a navy blue coat that swirled like a cape, her hair perfectly tied in a low bun, her lipstick was perfect too. Her fury – visible.

“You could’ve died!” Cecelia snapped, crossing the room. She didn’t touch Cassandra, didn’t even sit, just stood at the edge of the bed like she might interrogate her own daughter.

“I didn’t,” Cassandra said, voice raspy.

“Your spleen ruptured. Your spinal column-”

“Compressed. I know. I was there.”

Cecelia glared. “How could you be so reckless?”

Cassandra opened her mouth then closed it. Her fingers gripped the blanket hard enough to make the IV tug at her hand.

“I was practicing,” she said finally. “Like you taught me.”

“Don’t pin this on me!.”

“I’m not. The horse spooked.”

“You landed like someone who doesn't understand how easily a moment of stupidity can end a legacy." The room went silent.

Cassandra stared at her mother. “You’re not even asking if I’m okay.”

Cecelia’s jaw twitched. She turned briefly to the assistant. “Leave us.” Vastaya hesitated, then left the room. 

“I saw the scans,” Cecelia sighed quietly. “I spoke to the chief of surgery. They stabilized your spine, but there’s still swelling. You could lose mobility if it’s mishandled.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And the doctor assigned to you is some Ionian child who specializes in-” she waved a hand, as if the word was too ridiculous to say “-infants.”

Cassandra bit back a groan. “He saved my life.”

“Not single handedly.” Cecelia’s expression folded into something unreadable. She walked toward the window. “I should’ve transferred you to a private clinic,” she said.

“No,” Cassandra cut off sharply. “I don’t want to be moved.”

The matriarch turned slowly. “You think this place is good enough for a Kiramman?”

Cassandra shifted, a lance of pain making her grit her teeth. “It’s good enough for people who can’t afford private wings and personal guards. Maybe if you spent more time here, you’d understand what the rest of the city lives like.”

A dangerous silence.

“I see,” Cecelia uttered. “You’ve decided to be noble.”

“I’ve decided to think for myself.”

“And is that Ionian boy a part of that decision?”

The air in the room shifted. Cassandra stared at her mother, not understanding that line of suspicion in her voice. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been awake less than forty eight hours and already speaking of him like he did more than just his job. You’ve noticed him. I can see it.” The matriarch sighed and stepped closer, her hand hovered near her daughter’s wrist, almost touched, then withdrew.

“You’ll recover,” she whispered softly. “You’re strong. But don’t confuse a trauma bond for affection. You don’t know him.”

“Mother! I didn’t say I did.”

“Good.” 

With that Cecelia turned and swept out again, faster than she came.

—

Later that afternoon Tobias returned, this time he was holding a small case and a set of folded notes.

“Your Mother visited,” he stated.

“Oh yes,” Cassandra muttered. “With armed commentary.”

Tobias smiled, it was small, tired, but not unkind. “She scared my colleague this morning.”

“Mother does that. Sorry.”

He nodded, set the case down and opened it. Inside was a portable ultrasound machine. 

“I’m going to check for residual fluid. You mind?”

She blinked. “You think I’m bleeding again?”

“No,” he assured. “But your hemoglobin was borderline this morning. I’d rather be too careful than not enough.”

Cassandra nodded. “Do your worst.”

He gloved up, squirted gel onto the probe, and gently pressed it to her side. The gel was cold, but his hands weren’t. The screen lit up with black and white shadows and shapes. Tobias moved slowly, eyes scanning the grayscale landscape of her abdomen.

“Kidney’s clear. No free fluid behind the spleen. Liver looks good,” he murmured. “You’re holding steady.”

She let out a breath, “you always narrate like that?”

“Habit. Helps me focus.”

“Is that a thing for pediatric surgeons?”

He snorted. “Only the ones who trained with trauma teams. We’re taught to say what we see out loud. No room for missed steps when you're working on someone that small.”

“Why children?” Cassandra turned her head to look at his face. He didn’t answer right away. Just wiped the gel from her skin and packed up the scanner.

“I always knew I wanted to help people,” he admitted in calm voice after a moment.

“That’s the easy answer.”

“I’m a second son,” he went on, “And in my House, that meant I had a choice. My brother, he’ll inherit the trade, the family name, all that. He was born for it, really enjoys it. I didn’t.” He glanced up at her then, “So I left for Piltover when I was sixteen. I thought I’d do general medicine, at first. Maybe surgery, maybe research. But then a visiting professor brought me along to observe a surgery, and that’s how I knew. I suppose, if you’re given the freedom of choice... you should use it to do something that matters.”

“You’re very strange,” she confessed finally, but her voice was not unkind. Tobias looked over, brow lifting slightly in question.

“You could have done anything with that freedom,” she said. “And you chose... screaming children.” 

He laughed at that. “Maybe I’m not ambitious enough for Piltovan standards.”

Cassandra met his eyes and smiled despite herself. “You chose what you wanted… and my Mother likes to remind me,” Cassandra added dryly “ that I should be grateful, that it’s my duty to continue what she’s built, that I should be... proud, honored.”

Tobias stayed quiet, packing the last of the equipment away with careful hands. Cassandra thought he might let the comment pass like everyone else usually did. Instead, he leaned back in the chair beside her bed. “She’s not wrong, though,” he spoke after a moment. “It’s something remarkable, what your family built here.”

Cassandra let out a small, sharp breath through her nose. She leaned her head back against the pillows staring at the ceiling, arms crossed tightly over her chest as if shielding herself.

“Yes., you’re right. But sometimes I feel… like it’s too much,” she muttered. “Like it doesn't matter what I feel. It’s not about me, it’s about the House, the name, the legacy. And I’m just-” She cut herself off. Her throat was tight. Tobias didn’t rush her, he stayed exactly where he was, waiting for her to continue.

“It’s never been about who I am. Only about what I am supposed to carry forward.” She said at last, bitterly. The silence stretched out between them, the only sound the distant hum of the city filtering through the stone walls. 

“You know,” Tobias was the one to break the silence. “You’re allowed to want things. Even if it makes you feel selfish.” Cassandra didn’t look at him. 

“You should be sleeping,” he muttered finally, looking away.

“I should,” she agreed. 

“I’ll go.” But he didn’t move, not right away.

When Tobias finally broke the spell, reaching for the case, his fingers brushed her wrist by accident, warm and steady. Cassandra was struck by the absurd, treacherous thought that she didn’t want him to go at all. She turned her head, just slightly, and caught the way he hesitated in the doorway. How he looked back once, briefly, before slipping into the hall without another word.

Chapter Text

On the fourth day the scans came clean, the swelling in her spine dropped below the risk threshold. Cassandra had counted the ceiling tiles only Janna knew how many times already. Outside the window Piltover’s skyline caught in bright midday sun, a glimpse of it fell on her bed through mostly lowered blinds. Cassandra tried to fall asleep again, but a knock on the door came and then it opened. Cassandra pretended to be asleep.

“Miss Kiramman?” The voice asked softly.

Cassandra cracked one eye open, already annoyed. A tall woman stood there, dressed in a brick red scrubs, her hair buzzed short on one side and falling in a dark sweep over the other.

“I’m Maya, your Physical therapist. We're going to start with you sitting up today.” 

At that moment the door opened again and Dr. Valekor stepped in and nodded, thumbing through the notes on his clipboard. 

“Alright.” He went on. “Cassandra Kiramman, post-op day four, status post splenic capsular repair, L3-L4 vertebral stabilization. Numbness to lower limbs, right worse than left. Catheter in situ. Drains removed post-op day two. Hemoglobin stable, fever low-grade. First mobilization attempt today.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t leave this place in a chair,” Maya added, “Today’s goal is upright tolerance. Edge-of-bed sit, weight shift, check vitals, see how your spine likes gravity.” The PT said plainly. “You have a problem with people touching you?” 

“No.” Cassandra swallowed. The idea of moving made her stomach turn. “I can’t even feel my legs.”

“You don’t need to feel them to sit up, we’ll help you.” Tobias reassured her.

It took them ten minutes to arrange the bed. Maya elevated the head first, slow increments, watching the monitors and Cassandra’s face equally. When the incline reached forty five degrees, the ache sharpened into something stronger. A low, grinding pressure, deep like something bearing down into her hips. Cassandra bit the inside of her cheek.

“Alright,” Maya instructed. “On my count, you’re going to roll onto your side. We’ll assist. Your lumbar fracture was stabilized with hardware, so you’re safe within tolerances. But it’ll hurt a lot.” Cassandra nodded.

“Good.” Maya moved to the edge of the bed. “One, two-”

The third count was never spoken. The older woman’s hands were sure, gripping Cassandra’s shoulder and hip, guiding her into a roll. The pain came fast – a deep, twisting knife in her abdomen, dull pressure along her spine. Cassandra bit down on a hiss, sweat prickled at her hairline.

“Good,” Tobias encouraged quietly. “Cassandra, stay with us. Try to swing your legs off the bed.”

Cassandra tried. The muscles in her abdomen spasmed. Her left leg still felt useless and barely moved, the right twitched like a dead weight. Maya didn't scold her, she caught the slack of Cassandra’s legs in one arm, and moved them to the floor with professional indifference.

“Alright. Sit up.”

Cassandra gritted her teeth and pushed against the mattress with both hands. The room tilted. Fire licked down her back, she could feel the pressure of the surgical dressing beneath her ribs, every suture pulling.

“Slow breath,” Maya repeated. “No heroics.”

Cassanssra managed upright with Tobias supporting her shoulders. Her heart thundered in her throat, and bile rose sharp in the back of her mouth.

“Fuck,” Cassandra muttered.

“Breathe,” the PT commanded. “Focus on the clock. Three more minutes.”

After a moment Cassandra’s gaze drifted down at her thighs, she stiffened. Tobias caught it immediately, the way her pupils jumped, the micro-flinch in her face. Cassandra’s eyes were locked on the thin crimson line trailing from beneath the hospital gown, tracking down her skin in a bright, thin smear. Maya noticed it too, she immediately peeled the gown aside with a professional lack of ceremony. The abdominal dressing was dry, the catheter line was intact, no blood in the urine bag. Tobias’ brow furrowed, then cleared.

“It’s not surgical,” Maya confirmed in a calm voice. “Menstrual blood.”

Cassandra hadn’t even registered her words, too focused on gripping the edge of the mattress, centered on the narrow task of staying upright. The words cut through the fog eventually. 

“Damn it,” she muttered, a fresh wave of nausea twisting in her gut.

“It’s your period,” Maya repeated, quieter this time. She didn’t fuss, just reached for a gloves, snapped them on, and tugged the underpad aside to check the line of blood trailing down Cassandra’s thigh. Bright red, thin, no clotting.

“It’s alright,” Tobias said. And for once, his voice wasn’t dry or clinical, just steady. “Stress, surgery. The trauma can throw your cycle off.”

Maya was already reaching for a clean underpad. “This happens,” she added briskly. “Especially post-op. Uterus isn’t particularly diplomatic about timing.” 

Cassandra wanted to protest, but Maya stopped her before she could even try. “You’re sitting up for the first time in four days,” she countered evenly. “Your blood pressure’s at the floor, and you’ve got a catheter pinned to your leg, Kiramman.” 

“We’ll clean this, get you stabilized, and that’s it for today. No more heroics.” Tobias added, looking at her face.

Maya moved quickly, adjusting the position of the gown and replacing the soiled underpad. Cassandra felt the hot sting of tears at the back of her throat and swallowed them down. She would not cry in front of them. Not over this.

“Done,” Maya exclaimed after a beat, peeling off her gloves.

Cassandra opened her eyes again, focusing on the clock above the door. The second hand twitched, not giving a damn about her dignity or the blood wiped off her thigh.

“Four minutes,” Tobias said. “You made it.” 

“Good,” Maya exclaimed and tapped Cassandra’s shoulder lightly. “You held upright for four minutes. Better than most. We’ll call that a win.”

A sharp knock at the door came again, interrupting them. A nurse peered in, a younger one this time, wide-eyed and seemingly terrified by something. 

“There’s a message from Councilor Kiramman,” she rasped. “She’s requesting a status report.” Cassandra bit down a sob and then winced at the pull in her side.

“I’ll handle it,” Tobias replied, already turning to the nurse. The girl nodded, then fled. Tobias straightened, gave Cassandra’s shoulder a steadying squeeze before easing her back against the pillows.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s get you back down.”

The lowering was worse than sitting up. The world tilted again, her gut roiled, her spine shrieked with a low burning fire, sweat collected at her temples again. They eased her back a fraction at a time. Cassandra felt like every screw in her spine was biting deeper into the bone. But despite everything, she gritted her teeth and swallowed the sound she wanted to make.

By the time they had her flat again, she was shaking. Maya adjusted the head of the bed a little, enough for Cassandra to breathe without the full weight of gravity sitting on her chest. She also adjusted the catheter line, checked the IV, and scribbled something onto the clipboard.

“We’ll go again tomorrow. Might even let you dangle your legs if you behave.” Maya said finally and moved towards the door. Cassandra watched the door shut behind her. The room suddenly fell too quiet, save for the steady beeping sound of the heart monitor. Tobias didn’t leave yet.

“You okay?” He asked. 

“No,” she responded bluntly. He nodded. 

“Good. That’s how it must feel. But it’s a good thing, means your muscles are adapting.”

She hated the indignity of it, her own body rebelling, the blood, the pain, the way she hadn’t even been able to hold herself upright for five minutes without help, without collapsing into some trembling, broken thing she did not recognize. And now this room, too silent, with him still in it, like it was normal, like this wasn’t the lowest, most humiliating moment of her life. She couldn’t stand it.

“Please, leave.” She forced the words through clenched teeth. Cassandra didn’t look at him, couldn’t, just stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles like it might hold her together a little longer.

A pause. 

“Alright,” he murmured, with no fight in it.

She kept her eyes fixed on a jagged line where the wall met the ceiling, until the moment the door clicked shut behind him. 

The ache in her throat finally broke loose. Her fingers curled weakly into the thin blanket. A single sharp sob made it past her lips before she bit down on it hard enough to taste blood. The pain in her side flared hot, and still, she didn’t want to add more morphine, she wouldn’t. The room blurred. She tried to swallow another sob, taking shallow, careful breaths through clenched teeth as if anyone might hear her.

A knock came at the door, then another one. 

A perfect timing.

She froze. Swiped a trembling hand across her eyes, and cleared her throat. “What?” she rasped.

The door cracked open. That same wide-eyed nurse from before peered in, her face paler than the last time she saw her. Cassandra instantly knew what was coming by the way the girl clutched the sheet of paper to her chest.

“There’s a message from officer Grayson,” the nurse said too careful, too rehearsed. “She’s asking if she should visit you tomorrow.”

A sob clawed up Cassandra’s throat so fast she barely swallowed it down. The fresh sting in her abdomen made her wince. At least, it wasn’t her mother this time.

The nurse hesitated, waiting for an answer, her expression flickering between sympathy and terror, before Cassandra found enough air to rasp, “No. I do not want to see anyone.”

“Y- yes, miss Kiramman,” the nurse mumbled. “I’ll… I’ll send the word.”

The moment the door shut, Cassandra let her head fall sideways against the pillow, throat raw, and shut her eyes. This time, she didn’t fight the tears.

—

The days blurred after that. Maya returned every morning. And every morning, Cassandra swore she wouldn’t curse in front of her, and every morning she failed.

The first time she dangled her legs off the bed, her vision darkened and she nearly vomited. Tobias held her steady, murmuring the usual clinical nonsense about blood pressure redistribution and postural hypotension, like it wasn’t humiliating, like she wasn’t hanging onto consciousness by her fingernails.

By the sixth day, she could sit without the room spinning sideways. By the seventh, Maya said the words she had been dreading and, at the same time, craving to hear.

“Alright. You’re standing today.” The PT announced.

Cassandra tried to keep her expression still, but her pulse thudded in her throat, ragged and loud. Every breath sent a dull, dragging throb through the metal bolted into her spine, as if the hardware itself resented the movement. The pain wasn’t distant anymore.

“Vitals stable,” Tobias commented, scanning her monitors. “See?” Maya smirked. “Even your attending says you’re cleared to suffer.” Cassandra muttered something under her breath, but didn’t refuse. 

They moved the chair close, adjusted IV lines. Maya on one side, Tobias on the other.

“On my count,” Maya encouraged. “You push with your arms. We guide you. No heroics, Kiramman.” Cassandra nodded.

“One… two… three.”

The surge of movement was worse than she remembered. Her abdominal wall spasmed, a burn radiating from under her left ribs down through her pelvis. Her spine felt like a slab of mended glass about to splinter.

But she stood.

Her knees nearly gave out, muscles shaking, weight barely taken by the trembling framework of her legs. Cassandra gasped. Tobias was watching her carefully, keeping a steady hand under her elbow, just in case.

“Good,” Maya murmured. “Hold it. Breathe.”

At that moment, Cassandra’s world narrowed to the pale green of hospital walls, every second upright was a war. And then, there was a taste of iron in her mouth. Was it supposed to be like that? Her head spun, something went terribly wrong.

Chapter Text

It started as a cold, wet sensation at her side. A strange, trickling warmth down her flank.

Tobias noticed first. His hand moved instinctively to the left side of her abdomen.

“Wait-” His voice was sharper than Maya had ever heard it. She then caught it too. “Shit,” she cursed. “Get her down-”

Too late. Cassandra’s legs could no longer hold her.

A fresh, hot gush of blood seeped through the fabric of her hospital gown. Bright, arterial. Soaking through the incision line. Tobias’ brain worked with urgency – splenic artery, maybe a missed capsular vessel reopening under strain, or a post-op pseudoaneurysm rupture.

Cassandra’s lips went gray. Her eyes wide and glassy.

“Call the OR!” he shouted to Maya. 

Tobias was already moving. There wasn’t time for a gurney. No time for protocol.

He caught Cassandra against his chest, one arm under her knees, one behind her shoulders, pressing a palm to her left side and ran. The door slammed open ahead of them. A nurse screamed something about the OR as he bolted through the hall, ignoring shouted questions, nearly bowling over a med tech. He could feel it under his hand – the steady, catastrophic spread of warmth at her side.

Cassandra’s head lolled against his collarbone. She was still conscious, but barely. She gasped, tried to say something but no words left her mouth.

“Hold on,” Tobias hissed. “Stay with me, Kiramman!”

Splenic artery bleed almost certainly. Capsular repairs were notoriously fragile after trauma. One bad spike in intra-abdominal pressure during that stand and it gave. He didn’t think about the fact that she was only twenty. That her mother would flay them alive. That they had nearly lost her once already. He just ran.

The doors to OR four swung open. The head of general surgery already scrubbed in, the attending on call was shouting for blood. Tobias laid her on the table himself, the sheet almost immediately blooming red beneath her.

“Left upper quadrant,” he barked, already turning to the scrub room.

“Scrub in!” Vesanja, the head of general surgery, barked at him in response. 

Cassandra’s eyes locked on him one last time, before a mask was pressed to her face.

“Pressure dropping – systolic’s eighty and falling,” called anesthesiologist.

Left subcostal incision,” Vesanja barked. “We need access.”

“No,” Tobias snapped from the scrub room before he could stop himself. “Upper midline – faster for vascular control, less muscle trauma. She’s young. She needs to heal.”

The attending hesitated, then jerked a nod. “Do it. Scalpel, retractors, lap pads.”

Tobias joined in. The field was a mess – blood and thin clots pooling in the left upper quadrant, soaking the gauze they had pressed in minutes earlier. The repair from her original splenic capsular tear was still intact at the surface, mostly. But deeper, somewhere just under the posterior segment, something had reopened. The pressure from standing, a change in abdominal perfusion, or maybe a micro-tear that hadn’t been seen on imaging, it didn’t matter, it was open now.

“We're not taking the spleen,” Vesanja said. Loud enough to leave no doubt. “We control. Pack. Reinforce.”

The attending vascular surgeon stood opposite her, eyes already scanning the field as scrub techs slid instruments into trays.

“She’s young,” he said briskly. “We preserve what we can. Let’s move.”

Another pressure spike sent blood bubbling up into the field. “Suction!”

A whine of negative pressure cleared the worst of it. Tobias leaned in. His fingers found the bleeding vessel, not the splenic artery itself, but a smaller branch along the superior pole. Torn just enough to pulse freely. He clamped with thumb and forefinger, holding, until vascular surgeon maneuvered a Satinsky in behind it.

“Clamp. Good. Let’s see the rest.”

Gauze pads came out one by one, revealing the capsule, still mostly intact. A second bleed, smaller, wept from the posterior-medial surface, right where the diaphragm curved in tight.

“Needle driver,” Tobias commanded. “And 3-0 Prolene.”

They worked fast. Tension suture first to stem the branch bleed. Then a stitch across the secondary tear, reinforced with oxidized cellulose and warm saline to clear the field. No sponges left inside, no bleeding visible.

“Vitals stabilizing,” the anesthesiologist reported. “She’s holding.”

“Good,” Vesanja said. “Let’s get that omentum back where it belongs and start closing.”

Tobias didn’t speak again. He didn’t trust his voice. His fingers trembled slightly as he retracted the last of the perisplenic pads, checking for any signs of new bleed. Nothing. It held. Cassandra Kiramman was going to live.

He stayed until the last suture was tied. Until they had closed the fascia and muscle layer, and the attending gave the nod to extubate once anesthesia was ready. Cassandra’s vitals held.

“You want to write the op note?” Vesanja asked, peeling her gloves off. Tobias shook his head. “I’ll write it.”

“You saved her. Good work, Valekor,” she said plainly.

Tobias nodded and stepped out of the field. He peeled off his gloves and gown, scrubbed again, and pressed his palms to his face, adrenalin still running in his system. He knew now, without a doubt, Cassandra Kiramman was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

The doors behind him parted, Maya stepped inside. 

“She made it,” she stated in a steady voice. “Thanks to you, Valekor.” Tobias nodded.

“I thought she’d pass out before she even stood,” Maya sat down on a bench beside him and murmured. “She warned me. Said she was stubborn. But I didn’t think she meant suicidal.”

“She wasn’t,” Tobias explained. “It wasn’t stupidity. It was… inevitability. We could’ve waited a week and that vessel would’ve still torn.”

“Hmm,” Maya folded her arms. “The whole surgical wing’s still buzzing. Councilor Kiramman is going to lose her mind.”

“Yeah, she most certainly would.” Was all Tobias could say, already bracing himself for the inevitable. The storm was coming, and everyone in the hospital knew it.

—

They kept her sedated until the morning. 

Cassandra came awake to the steady sound of her own heart monitor. Her mouth felt dry, a thick ache seated under her ribs, sharp with every breath. The first thing she registered was the pain, the second was the presence in the room. A shadow at the foot of her bed, tall, severe.

“Good,” Cecelia Kiramman whispered icily. “You’re awake.”

Cassandra opened her eyes slowly, the world coming into blurred focus. Her mother stood as she always did, her back straight, hair pinned back, a dark coat cut sharp against the dull green of hospital walls. There was no relief in her face, no softness, only cold, brittle fury.

“I suppose,” Cecelia said in low voice, “I should thank you for surviving long enough. Again.”

Cassandra swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Mother-.”

“You nearly bled out.” The words dropped like stones. “You should have been transferred to a private facility after your first surgery. But no, you insisted on remaining here. And now look at you.”

“It wasn’t-” Cassandra tried, but Cecelia cut her off again with a sharp gesture.

“I’ve read the surgical report. The vessel rupture should have been anticipated.” Her mother’s voice snapped like a cable under strain. “Any competent surgeon would have identified the risk and had prevented it. But no, we left you in the hands of an Ionian boy playing doctor.”

Cassandra’s stomach turned. “His name is Tobias Valekor.”

Cecelia’s lip curled. “Not anymore. As of this morning, he is no longer a part of your care team. I made certain of it.” The words landed hard. Cassandra’s pulse jumped, and the monitors obligingly tattled on her.

“You what?” She rasped.

“I had him removed. Permanently. He will not touch you again. Or any Kiramman.”

“That’s absurd. He saved my life, Mother. Twice.”

“And nearly lost it once in the process,” Cecelia snapped. “The second time was negligence.”

Cassandra’s mind was still too clouded by drugs, but she tried to make her brain work faster. “Have you spoken with Vesanja?” The question came out harsher than she intended, raw rather with pain than fury. 

“Vesanja covers for her own. They all do.”

“I don’t want you to ruin his career over this.”

Cecelia’s eyes narrowed. “Cassandra, look at yourself. It seems, the drugs they give you here made you forget yourself.”

“No, Mother,” Cassandra whispered quietly. “I remember myself perfectly.”

The monitor beeped, sharp and insistent, and a nurse poked her head in, wary. “Everything alright?”

“We’re talking,” The matriarch snapped, lifting her hand to stop the nurse at the threshold, and not breaking eye contact with Cassandra. “We’re not done here.” The nurse lingered a moment, then wisely disappeared.

Cecelia stepped closer to the bed, voice soft but glacial. “You will stay away from him, Cassandra. You will not speak of him, not to anyone. Do you understand me?”

Cassandra didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Cecelia’s gaze hardened. “Rest. You’ll need your strength when you return to your physical therapy.” 

Then she turned on her heel and swept out, letting the room fall quiet again.

Chapter Text

Cassandra needed to think. She had to come up with something while it wasn’t too late, while Tobias’ career wasn’t ruined by her mother.

She stared at the ceiling, and counted tiles once again – eight vertically, twelve horizontally. Somehow, it helped her focus. The drugs made it harder, the edges of every thought blurred and tried to slip away from her grasp, but she forced her mind to focus.

Cecelia Kiramman didn’t make idle threats. If she had ordered Tobias off the case, it wouldn’t stop there. She had reach: into hospital boards, into professional circles, into the Council. If she wanted Tobias out of Piltover Central, she could make it happen by the week’s end. Quietly. And if she pressed hard enough, it wouldn’t just be his post here. It could be his license as well. And no house or family name would be able to shield him.

Tobias had saved her life, twice now. First in that operating room the night of the fall, when he wasn’t even supposed to be there. Then again, running with her barely conscious down a hallway instead of waiting for protocol and paperwork to catch up. She had felt it under his hand, that terrible, hot gush of blood, and knew without question that if anyone else had been there, she probably wouldn’t have survived.

He deserved better than to be buried by her mother’s politics.

She needed to do something. She didn’t have Councior’s authority yet, not officially. Cecelia held the seat, but House Kiramman name meant something. And Cassandra’s voice, while technically beneath her mother’s, wasn't powerless if she played it right.

Options. She needed options.

Grayson. 

She was the first person Cassandra could think of. If there was anyone she could ask for help and trust not to be rejected, it was her. Grayson had no love for Cecelia’s arrogance, and understood how things worked outside the pristine upper levels. If she leaned on Vesanja from the law enforcement side, if she publicly backed Tobias’ report, that the situation with critical bleeding was unpredictable, it should be enough to make Cecelia hesitate.

Then she thought of Vesanja. The woman was no fool. She worked here long enough to earn the reputation. Cassandra had seen the way the team followed her lead. And if Vesanja filed an official post-op report, confirming Tobias’ words stating the bleed was inevitable, Cecelia wouldn’t countermand that without making an enemy. And her mother knew better than to start a public war with one of the city’s best trauma teams.

She also thought of Tobias himself. She hadn’t seen him since before the surgery. She needed to talk to him, she needed to warn him about what was coming. Warn him that Cecelia wouldn’t stop at a transfer order. And more than that, she needed to know if he wanted to fight for himself. Or if he had already packed his bags, expecting this. Because if Tobias was leaving quietly, all these plans wouldn’t matter.

I won’t let her bury you like this. I owe you better than that.

And if her mother wanted a fight, so be it. 

She needed to contact Grayson, only with her help Cassandra could reach outside the hospital walls. But first – she hit the call button.

The same young nurse from before appeared, eyes wide, clearly hoping not to be the one caught between another Kiramman argument.

“I need you to call Dr. Valekor,” Cassandra rasped. 

The girl paled. “He’s not assigned to-”

“I know, and I don’t care,” Cassandra said, her voice was steel behind the raw edges of pain. “I need him now. Tell him it’s urgent.”

The nurse knew better than to ask the Councilor's daughter again. She simply nodded and left. Cassandra sagged back against the pillow as the door clicked shut behind her. One move at a time, she told herself. 

The knock came ten minutes after. Cassandra didn’t bother answering, she knew it was him.

The door creaked open. Tobias stepped inside, eyes dark-rimmed from the hours at work or the war he probably hadn’t planned to fight today. He wasn’t dressed in scrubs anymore. Regular clothes: plain shirt with sleeves pushed up, hospital badge clipped loose at his pocket. Not quite a doctor, not quite dismissed. 

He closed the door behind him.

“You know, I’m not allowed to be in here anymore,” he mumbled quietly.

“I do.” Cassandra shifted against the pillow, wincing. “Just listen to me, please.”

Tobias hesitated, his hand was still on the door handle. He looked like he wanted to argue, or maybe like he was too damn exhausted to start, but he didn’t leave. Instead, after considering his further actions for a moment longer, he crossed the room and dropped into the chair by her bedside, like gravity was pulling him there. Cassandra had never seen him sit like this before.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m listening.”

Cassandra swallowed. The words clawed at her throat. Too many days of helplessness, too many hours of other people speaking for her, over her, about her.

“I know what my mother is doing,” she whispered, finally breaking the silence. “I know she went after you.” 

Tobias gave a small, humorless huff through his nose. “And what do you want me to do about it, Cassandra?” he asked, frustration clear in his voice. “I am a resident. And Councilor Kiramman’s word carries more weight in this city than every letter after my name. Your mother makes the right threats to the right people, and I won’t just be out of this hospital. I’ll be out of Piltover.”

“You can fight this,” her voice was still quiet. “I can stop it.” 

His brow furrowed, skeptical. “It’s not your fight.”

Cassandra’s stomach twisted under the weight of what she was about to say, but she forced herself to hold it.

“It is,” she snapped, then forced a breath through her teeth, through the pain lancing sharp beneath her ribs. “It is now. You saved me. You made decisions no one else would’ve had the guts to make. And it wasn’t your incompetence that nearly killed me – it was the nature of the injury. I’ve seen the report, don't ask how I got it. Every surgeon in this building knows it.” 

Tobias looked at her. She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. “I’m not going to let her destroy you because she’s afraid of something she can’t control.”

Tobias went silent for a long time, then huffed a humorless sound, somewhere between a laugh and a curse. “You don’t owe me this.”

“I do,” she repeated. “But more than that, I want to. And I can help you, but only if you’re willing to fight for yourself.” Cassandra’s hand trembled as she gripped the blanket tighter, as a fresh spike of pain lanced under her ribs. 

“I will fight for you, Valekor. I’ll pull every string I can get my hands on. I’ll speak to Vesanja. I’ll go to the Council if I have to. I’ll make this city remember that it still answers to people like me. And that I won’t be silenced, not on this.”

Tobias stared at her for a long moment, sharper, heavier, tired, not with polite neutrality he wore in front of most Piltovans. 

“But for this plan to work, I need you to contact officer Grayson for me.” Cassandra added quieter.

Tobias' brow furrowed. “I heard you turned her away the other day.”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “but I can’t help you from here. Not from this bed, and Grayson, she won’t ignore this if you ask.” Cassandra grimaced again. 

Tobias leaned back in the chair, rubbing a hand over his face, then sighed, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward in something like reluctant resignation. “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll find a way.”

“Good.” Cassandra let her eyes fall shut for a second, forcing down the wave of exhaustion threatening to drag her under. 

“And… one more thing.” 

Tobias arched a brow.

“I need you to adjust my meds.”

He stilled. “Cassandra-”

“I need a clear head,” she cut him off. “I can’t think with this… fog.” She gestured vaguely to the IV line. “I’m not asking you to cut me off cold. Just… pull the dose down.”

He hesitated, watching the monitors, the tension in her body. “You’ll feel everything, stronger than you should.”

She met his gaze dead on. “I know, but I need to be able to think clearly.”

For a beat, neither of them moved. Then Tobias let out a breath, leaned over to check the chart at the foot of the bed.

“I can lower the morphine titration by a third. You’ll still have coverage. It will hurt. And you press the button the second it gets too much.”

She managed a weak, sharp-edged smile. “I will.”

He nodded once, already moving to adjust the pump settings.

—

Grayson arrived the next morning, before visitors hours had officially started. No one wanted to deal with the enforcer’s officer, so they let her in.

She hadn’t changed much in the past two months Cassandra hadn’t seen her.

“You look like shit,” Grayson said by way of greeting.

Cassandra barked a rough laugh, which made her wince. “You always did know how to charm a girl.”

Grayson gave a ghost of a grin and moved to the side of the bed, leaning one hip against the counter. “You called?”

“Had to. Can’t exactly crawl out of here myself.”

“I heard about what happened.” Grayson’s voice went lower. “Cass, you should be careful.”

“Yeah, well… that’s not exactly the part I need you for.” Cassandra took a careful breath. “It’s Tobias Valekor.”

Grayson’s brows lifted a fraction. “The doctor? Thought your mother had his head on a pike by now.”

“She’s trying.”

Grayson crossed her arms, studying her ex girlfriend’s face. “You two close?” She asked with a hint of teasing in her voice.

Cassandra tried not to roll her eyes at that. “He saved my life. He doesn’t deserve to have his destroyed because my mother thinks what has happened, happened because of him. She had already pulled strings at the hospital. If we don’t stop it now, she’ll push until he’s out of medicine entirely. And then she’ll make sure no one ever hears the real version of what happened.”

The young woman was quiet for a long moment, watching Cassamdra the way she did when they were sixteen and sneaking out through the window in Cassandra’s room, slipping past guards to drink wine stealed from the estate's cellar by the riverside and kiss until midnight. That old familiarity between them still hummed beneath the years and bad decisions. Grayson didn’t pity her, she never had.

“What do you want from me, Cass?” Grayson asked, breaking the silence.

“I need you to make sure people hear what actually happened,” Cassandra said, trying to keep her voice even. “Not the version my mother’s handlers will plant when this settles. The real version. The report.”

Grayson’s eyes sharpened at that. “You have it?”

“Not officially. But I know where it’s filed. And you know how to get it to the right people.”

Grayson leaned back against the counter, arms still crossed, a muscle ticking in her jaw. “You’re asking me to leak confidential medical records? Cass, that’s career-ending shit.”

“It’s not about the record itself.” Cassandra tried to explain. “It’s about the facts. You get a copy of that report to someone in the press with enough spine to run it. No names, no patient identifiers, just the clinical findings.”

Grayson rubbed a hand over her mouth, the ghost of a grin now tugging at one corner. “You always were a manipulative little shit.”

Cassandra managed a grin. “That’s why you liked me.”

Grayson crossed the room again, stopping beside her bed, voice dropping so no one beyond the thin door could hear it. “Alright.” The officer squeezed her wrist, with an unspoken promise in the touch. “I’ll handle it,” she said, letting go. “And you stay alive long enough to watch your mother’s face when she realizes she can’t bury this one.” 

Cassandra nodded with a tired but real smile, then murmured. “Make sure the first paper copy of that ends up on my mother’s desk.”

Grayson gave her a delighted grin. “Consider it’s done."

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She uttered, still smiling. “You owe me for this, Kiramman.”

“And what do you want?” Cassandra asked, suspiciously narrowing her eyes.

Grayson’s grin widened. “What do I want? Easy. You stay alive long enough to finally lose to me at the range.”

Cassandra huffed a laugh, which pulled at her side with a new force. “In your dreams, darling.”

Grayson rolled her eyes but the smile didn’t leave her mouth. “We’ll see, Kiramman. You get out of this bed, get your stubborn ass healed up, and we’ll settle it proper. No excuses.”

“Deal.” Cassandra reached out, offering a pinky. It was stupid, childish even, but Grayson took it without hesitation, hooking her own around it. “Good. Now get some rest,” she murmured.

“Thank you,” Cassandra murmured when Grayson turned to the door.

“You’d do the same for me,” she murmured, not turning around, then disappeared down the hall.

—

By late afternoon, when Cassandra woke up from her nap, the hospital felt different. It wasn’t obvious, medics still moved in that quiet, efficient current. But Cassandra could feel it. The subtle tightening of gazes when someone passed her room, the too-careful questions from the staff. The storm had started. Cassandra knew the news had reached her mother.

The sun was setting down when the door opened without a knock. The Matriarch of House Kiramman swept in, sharp and coiled as always.

“You went public,” Cecelia stated without a greeting.

Cassandra didn’t bother pretending. “I had to.”

For the first time, Cecelia didn’t answer right away. She came to the foot of the bed, her gaze hard as usual, but there was something else in it now. Something Cassandra hadn’t seen since she was a child.

“I was afraid.” 

It landed in the room like a dropped weapon. Cecelia admitted quietly, not looking away. “Do you understand? I was at the meeting when the first call came. And by the time I reached the hospital, there was still blood on the floor. Your blood. I’ve held this House together through political wars, through men twice my age trying to grind us down. I almost lost you, Cassandra-” she broke off, composing herself. “I blamed him because it was easier this way. I was afraid you were going to die and there would be nothing I could do to stop it!”

Cassandra swallowed hard. “But I’m alive, thanks to him. And you almost destroyed him because of it.”

“I know,” Cecelia uttered quietly. 

“I spoke to Vesanja. The inquiry’s closed. His name is clear. He’ll stay on staff. As long as he doesn’t give me another reason.”

“Thank you.” Cassandra let out a slow breath.

“You should rest,” Cecelia said finally, too soft for her usual self. Brushed a lock of hair out of her daughter’s face, then turned and left, her coat billowing behind her like a storm cloud sweeping away. The door shut. Cassandra let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. The battle was won, she could finally rest now.

Chapter Text

The inquiry had been closed, Tobias had returned to work, and the days settled into a rhythm. Mornings began with Maya, who pushed Cassandra harder each session – edge-of-bed sitting stretched to ten minutes, then fifteen. By the sixth day, Cassandra could dangle her legs without Tobias or Maya holding her steady, though the effort left her shaking and cursing under her breath. 

By the tenth day, Maya declared her ready to stand unassisted. The setup was the same – monitors, a chair nearby in case she would need it for support. But this time, Maya stepped back after helping her to the edge of the bed. “You’re doing this one on your own,” she encouraged. “We’re right here, but it’s you and gravity now.”

Cassandra’s hands gripped the mattress. Her legs dangled, the right one twitching with more control than the left. She took a breath, then another, and pushed. Abdominal muscles strained, the incision site pulled. Her spine ached, the hardware adding constant pressure, 

But she stood.

Her knees shook, but she stood, her hands hovered over the bed rail for balance. Tobias watched her pulse climb to 110, then stabilize.

“Ten seconds,” Maya said, watching her. “Keep going.”

Cassandra held for twenty before her legs gave out. Tobias caught her, easing her back to the bed. She was panting, but she grinned. She was able to stand again.

—

The CT scan came back clean. The screws at L3 and L4 were well positioned, no signs of loosening or infection. The fracture lines were starting to blur on the images, a faint haze of new bone growth. “You’re healing,” Tobias told her, showing her the scans. “Faster than we expected.”

The spine hardware removal was scheduled for three weeks later. The orthopedic surgeon walked her through it the day before. “It’s a smaller procedure than the initial placement,” he said, showing her the imaging. “We’ll go in through the same incision, remove the screws and rods, and close you up.” She nodded, not showing how badly she wanted those screws out.

The surgery went smoothly. Forty three minutes. Posterior midline incision, two rods, four pedicle screws, one cross-link plate. The fracture line had healed better than expected. Surgeons worked fast – lean dissection through scar tissue, careful around the paraspinal muscles, hardware extracted without complication, fracture stable.

They extubated her in Recovery. Tobias wasn’t her surgeon this time, orthopedics wasn’t his field after all. And still, he slipped into the Recovery, telling the nurse she could go, and he would watch Cassandra himself.

He watched her start to surface. The twitch of fingers, a spike in heart rate. Her eyes cracked open, unfocused and glassy. She blinked, then winced and squinted at him, her lips parted. 

“Ionian boy,” she muttered, words slurred, a little smirk formed on her mouth. Then Cassandra’s hand fumbled against the blanket, then lifted, slow, graceless, reaching for him. Her fingers brushed the side of his face, tracing his cheekbone in a way no sane, conscious Cassandra Kiramman would have dared.

“You’re b- beautiful,” she slurred, voice rough and raw, and then, matter-of-factly, with a squint of drunken disapproval, “s- should grow a beard.”

Tobias froze for a moment, caught off guard, his lips twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or pull away, but still let her hand rest against his face. 

“I see. You’re still high as a kite, Kiramman.” He mumbled in response.

Her smile faded, her brow furrowed as a wave of pain rolled through her. “H- hurts,” s​​he rasped, sharper now. 

“I know.” 

And then, predictably, she reached for the IV, fingers clawing at the tape, trying to rip it free.

“Hey! No, no, leave it,” Tobias advised, catching her wrist before she could yank the line. “Bad idea, Kiramman, you still need that.” Her fingers clenched weakly around his, not pulling anymore, just holding.

“You’re warm,” she blurted.

“Be happy,” he said with a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “You won’t remember any of this the next time you wake up.”

She mumbled something incoherent under her breath, then sagged against the pillow, consciousness slipping back under. Tobias let out a long, steady breath, easing her hand back to the blanket

He leaned back against the chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. He shouldn’t have given more thought to it, it shouldn’t have meant anything. Patients under anesthesia said all kinds of strange things, and he knew better than to hold weight in it. And yet, he could still feel the ghost of her touch along his cheekbone.

He had told himself that what he felt for her was admiration, respect. A fierce, protective instinct born out of the way she had almost bled out in his arms. He had told himself that he cared because he had to, because anyone would have cared, faced with the same choices. 

But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? 

It was ridiculous. It was dangerous.

—

On the fifteenth day after surgery they discharged her. Twenty four pages of paperwork: post-op instructions, physical therapy referrals, a prescription for analgesics, were signed by Cassandra. 

Cecelia wasn’t there to collect her, she had sent a driver and a vastaya aide who hovered nervously, clutching a leather satchel stuffed with Cassandra’s belongings.

Tobias stopped by her room as she was packing. He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. “You’re finally free,” he said in a light but careful tone.

Cassandra snorted, tucking papers in a folder with more force than necessary. “Free to be babysat by my mother’s staff, you mean.”

“Better than here,” he replied. “No offense to our fine establishment.”

She paused, glancing at him. “You’re not wrong, though.” A beat passed, then she added, quieter, “Thanks. For… everything.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing, but his eyes lingered on her a moment too long. “Just doing my job, Kiramman.”

“Right.” She showed that folder into vastaya’s hands. “Well, don’t be a stranger, Valekor. I’d hate to think I went through all this just to lose touch with the only doctor who didn’t talk to me like I was five.”

Tobias reached into his pocket and handed her a small, rolled-up paper. Cassandra took it without a question.

“I’ll be around. You know how to contact me if you need it.” His mouth was quivering, not quite a smile.

She nodded, and that was it. The aide helped her to the carriage, and Tobias watched from the hospital’s glass doors as the vehicle pulled away, disappearing into Piltover’s gleaming streets.

When the carriage came to a stop and the aide stepped out first, offering a steadying hand. Cassandra took it and hauled herself out, biting back the twinge in her side. Cecelia was already waiting on the front steps. Her face was unreadable for a beat too long. Then she descended a single step as Cassandra made her way up the stairs.

“Mother,” Cassandra managed a greeting.

A long pause. And for a moment Cassandra braced herself for a lecture, but instead, Cecelia reached out and cupped her daughter’s face, brushing her thumb once over Cassandra’s temple.

“It’s good you’re home,” Cecelia said, so low it could have been mistaken for a breath.

Cassandra blinked back a sudden, unexpected burn behind her eyes. “It’s… good to be home.” She croaked. It certainly was not the reaction she had expected from her mother.

Cecelia’s hand fell away just as quickly. “I had the staff prepare your rooms. And tomorrow, we’ll speak about how to begin getting you back to work.” Cecelia added after a pause. Cassandra nodded.

When she reached her rooms, she closed the door behind her, leaned back against it for a moment, and stared at the familiar space. Her rooms were exactly as she had left them, as if no one had entered her space all those weeks she wasn’t there. A rifle case still lay in the corner of her study, engineering books stacked on the desk, a map of a future ventilation system pinned to the wall. The place felt strange now, after all those weeks she spent in hospital.

—

Cassandra settled into a routine. Physical therapy three times a week with a new therapist at the estate, who pushed her through exercises that left her shaking, though, stronger with each passing day. She walked without a cane by the third week, but still wore a corset, and the stairs still made her struggle. Her mother was rarely home, her Council duties swallowing her time, Cassandra liked it better this way.

Tobias sent a message the first week, a brief note she got with her regular correspondence.

How’s the real world treating you? Don’t overdo it, Kiramman.

She replied with a single line, and then they exchanged a few more messages over the next month – short, friendly, nothing deep. Sometimes he would mention an interesting case in pediatrics, and in response, she would mention her project or complain about her therapist. 

But then the messages stopped. No explanation, no warning, just silence.

Cassandra didn’t dwell on it. She told herself he was busy. Residents worked brutal hours, and she wasn’t his patient anymore. Maybe he had realized a Kiramman wasn’t worth the hassle. Maybe he had just moved on. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on her recovery, work and on rebuilding the strength she had lost.

By the end of the second month, she could ride a horse again, though only at a walk, and only with a groom trailing nervously behind. Though it was no longer Liora. Her brown mare had been sent to the summer residence.

—

Four months after her discharge, Piltover’s Annual Gala rolled around. The event was a glittering monstrosity, held in The Grand Hall. Cassandra attended out of obligation, walked by her mother’s side as they navigated the crowd. She Finally didn’t need to wear a corset anymore. She was dressed in an emerald green dress of her mother’s choosing. It clung to her frame, its high neckline and tailored silhouette elegant but understated, designed to deflect attention rather than demand it. A faint shimmer in the fabric hinted at the delicate embroidery. 

Cassandra was halfway through a glass of champagne, nodding absently at some merchant telling her about Noxian wines, when she saw him. Across the hall, near the dessert table, a flash of dark blue hair and a familiar lean frame. Her breath caught, and she blinked, almost convinced she had imagined it. But then he turned, and there was no mistaking, those brown, Ionian eyes looked right at her.

Tobias' breath caught, a quiet jolt in his chest that he hadn’t expected. He hadn’t seen her in five months, not since she had left Piltover Central. He had thought of her too often when he was still in Pilover, and then these thoughts didn’t free him in Ionia, where he was sorting his grandmother’s affairs after her passing. He had told himself it was nothing, tried to convince himself that she was just a patient, a Kiramman, untouchable. And now, seeing her here, wearing this dress, he felt the lie unravel. He wanted to turn away, to slip back into the crowd before she noticed him, but it was too late for it now.

Cassandra blinked. Tobias Valekor, in a tailored black suit that looked like it cost more than his resident’s salary, was weaving through the crowd. And he had a beard now, neatly trimmed, framing his jaw in a way that made him look more mature. She stared, caught off guard, until he stopped right before her.

“HI,” he said, stopping a respectful distance away, his voice warm but cautious. “Glad to see a familiar face here.”

Cassandra recovered quickly, setting her glass on a passing tray. “Didn’t expect to see you, Valekor. Thought you vanished off the face of Runeterra.” Her tone was light, but there was an edge to it, a question she didn’t quite ask.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “Yeah, about that. I had to go back to Ionia. Family emergency. My grandmother passed.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Her expression softened.

“It’s fine. It was… sudden. Took a while to sort things out.” He shrugged, but his eyes were heavy.

She nodded, then tilted her head, studying him. “The beard’s new.”

“Thought I’d try something different,” Tobias uttered sheepishly. It was good she didn’t remember it was her suggestion in the first place.

Cassandra nodded, her gaze flicking to his beard again. “It looks good, you know. Makes you less... boyish.”

“Thank you for the compliment, I guess.” He arched a brow, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

Later, Cassandra led him to the balcony, where they talked for a while longer. He told her about Ionia, the humid air and the family house he hadn’t seen in years. She told him about the progress on her recovery and on the ventilation system for Zaun she was working on. 

When the gala began to wind down, he walked her to the entrance, where her driver was waiting. The night air was cool by that time, sharp against her skin. She turned to him, her hand resting lightly on the carriage door, already opened for her.

“Don’t disappear again, Valekor,” she said in a friendly voice. “I missed you.”

“I won't,” he nodded, and felt his chest tighten with something he didn’t allow himself to name.

—

The carriage rolled through Piltover’s gleaming streets, its wheels humming against the polished cobblestones. Inside, the silence was a living thing, heavy and sharp-edged. Cassandra sat across from her mother. Cecelia Kiramman stared out the window, her profile carved in shadow, hands folded precisely in her lap. Not a word had passed between them since they left The Grand Hall, and Cassandra felt the weight of it like a storm brewing beyond the horizon.

They stepped into the estate’s foyer, Cecelia’s heels clicked against the marble, she didn’t look at Cassandra as she spoke, and her voice was low and clipped. “My study. Now.” Cassandra’s jaw tightened, but she followed.

When they reached the room, the matriarch didn’t sit. She stood by the window with her hands clasped behind her back. The pose was the one Cassandra knew all too well, nothing good was going to be said to her.

“Close the door,” Cecelia commanded, Cassandra obeyed.

“Sit,” Cecelia added, not turning.

Cassandra remained standing. “Mother, It’s late, and I’m-”

“I saw you at the gala,” Cecelia turned to her daughter. “With that Ionian boy.”

Cassandra’s pulse quickened, but she kept her face impassive. “We were talking. He was my attending, you do know that.”

“Is that the reason you have entertained him for most of the evening?” Cecelia asked.

“Mother, I-”

“Then I assume you would not be entertaining him further.” She cut her daughter off.

“There’s nothing to entertain, Mother.”

“Good,” Cecelia said smoothly. “Though…” She glanced at her daughter one more time. “If there were something, at least he could give you a child.” 

Cassandra blinked. Her voice, when it came, was quiet but cutting. “Excuse me?

“You’re almost twenty one, Cassandra,” the matriarch went on. “If you’re going to pursue distraction, it should… at least be useful.”

“You think he’s a useful distraction ?” Her mouth curled. “And Grayson wasn’t?”

Cecelia didn’t flinch. “She was a phase. You were seventeen and foolish. She has no future, no bloodline, no match. Grayson is a girl, she cannot give you children, Cassandra.”

“She has a brain,” Cassandra stated tightly. “A spine. Integrity.”

“And no ability to carry on this house.” Cecelia’s eyes met hers, icy and calm. “Whatever else you want, Cassandra, you’re still expected to lead. And that means producing one.”

The silence that followed was not empty, it rang, like struck glass.

“Is that all you think I’m good for? Being bred? I’m not a broodmare!” She spat.

The matriarch's face didn’t change. “I think you are a Kiramman. And you’re forgetting what that means,” she said simply. “I gave you the name, the education, the future. You already have more than most ever will, but you don’t get to choose everything.”

Cassandra turned to leave without a word. She didn’t remember getting back to her room, didn’t remember collapsing onto her bed, nor when her hands started shaking. She only realized she was crying when she tasted salt on her lip. She wiped it away fast, furious, disgusted with herself.

What infuriated her most wasn’t the conversation itself, it was the fact that her mother had mentioned him . They didn't even know each other really, and yet, now she couldn’t stop thinking about him . He wasn’t beautiful in the way women were. He was too soft-eyed, too earnest. And after all, he was a man , but there was something there, something that snuck under her skin. Her mother had planted a seed in her head and she hated it.

Chapter Text

The weeks slipped by like water through the Pilt river. Cassandra saw Tobias more times than she meant to.

At first it was a message from him slipped in with her morning correspondents, asking how her therapy was progressing. She scrawled a reply between Council briefings. It should’ve ended there, but another letter came, and then another.

She replied because she was bored. Or perhaps because ink and paper allowed her to be herself. The letters continued. And then there was a meeting. An accidental one, she told herself, but then they met again. 

Somewhere in the steady drift of those weeks, their letters and conversations stretched. And chance meetings turned into planned ones: in libraries, in cafes far from the city center, in places where no one knew to mind Cassandra Kiramman’s face. 

She liked that he didn’t try to impress her. But also that was what startled her most. Everyone else wanted something. Everyone. Except Grayson… but that was, well, different. 

For everyone else she was a Kiramman , her mother’s daughter, her House’s heiress, and never Cassandra.

Tobias was not like them. He didn’t want anything from her, he didn’t ask for favors, didn’t fish for invitations to her house, didn’t measure his words, angling for future advantage. He genuinely wanted to know what books she read, how her project was progressing, whether she’d found a new pastry shop worth visiting. Trivial things, maybe, but honest things.

And that honesty drew her. She caught herself waiting for his letters in the morning pile, and often caught herself reading the words in his voice in her head. Cassandra found she liked that, in a way she couldn’t quite explain, even to herself. For once, she wasn’t being measured against the weight of her family. With him she was simply Cassandra, and that was enough.

Eventually, the meetings moved to his flat. Neither of them said why. At first, he invited her for tea, and then it continued.

Cassandra never announced her arrival. She would come through the unlocked door, leaving her shoes by the door without a word. Tobias would glance up from whatever work he was doing, make tea without asking, and she would take her usual place on the small couch or lean against the windowsill, watching the city lose its edges in the dark.

No one else in Piltover knew she was there. And that, perhaps, was the point.

Tobias didn’t mean to fall for her, and when it happened, he tried to bury his feelings. She was a Kiramman, a storm wrapped in silk, her life was mapped out by her name. And he was an Ionian second son, a surgeon. But every letter, every glimpse of her sharp mind and sharper tongue, deepened the ache. He kept trying to keep it locked behind professional smiles and careful words, and still, it grew with each passing week. He couldn’t quiet the thoughts even when he tried to.

—

Cassandra’s twenty-first birthday arrived in October, marked by a formal lunch at the estate. A dozen carefully selected noblemen in fancy clothes and polished shoes were invited to the celebration, all of them eager to discuss alliances. Cassandra endured it. She smiled, she drank, she flirted just enough to be considered gracious but not enough to be considered interested. By the time the guests left, Cassandra slipped from the estate under cover of night.

She took a hired carriage to the medical district and walked the last block to Tobias' flat. The narrow building, wedged between a pharmacy and a repair shop. 

The door to his flat wasn’t locked, it was never locked when he was waiting for her. She pushed it open, hung her cloak by the door, and kicked off her shoes by instinct, flexing her toes against the floorboards. No shoes – the rule in Tobias' flat.

The warm air came from the doorway. She made her way to the kitchen, where soft light spilled from, and the scent hit her immediately – something dark and rich, sugar laced with smoke and spice.

Cassandra stepped through the archway and stopped. The small table by the window had been cleared, a linen cloth laid over it. Three plates sat there, each holding something different – delicate Ionian desserts she didn’t have the names for. Sweet rice dumplings glazed in honey, a tart dusted with some unfamiliar herb, and a set of small round cakes, the tops marked with intricate pressed patterns.

“You made these?” She asked, surprised.

He shrugged, busying himself with a small teapot. “Yeah. Family business. We ran a bakery. And a tea shop, my grandmother made sure I knew how to cook.” Tobias answered. “Happy birthday, Kiramman,” he added then.

“I wasn’t expecting you to remember.”

“Not a chance. You forgot I read your chart.”

She watched him as he moved around the small space, and it struck her, not for the first time, how different he was here, away from hospital halls. He was just… a man. A quiet one. One who knew how to fold pastry and pick decent tea leaves.

She approached the table, eyeing the cakes. The smell rising off them was unreal – chocolate laced with something smoky, a scent that made her mouth water instantly.

“What’s this one?” she asked, pointing at the rich, round pastry.

“Smoked chocolate mooncake,” Tobias said. “Grandmother’s favorite. Cacao, milk, peanuts and smoked salt, folded into rice flour pastry. We used to sell out by noon on feast days.”

Cassandra picked it up without ceremony and bit into it. The shell cracked faintly beneath her teeth, the filling was dark and dense and impossibly smooth, a curl of woodsmoke lingering under the chocolate. It was nothing like the overrich, cloying Piltovan sweets she had grown up with. It tasted of midnight and forests. Cassandra closed her eyes for a second longer than she meant to.

“Why are you even a surgeon, Tobias?”

He shrugged, a faint color rose in his face. “Bakery’s my brother’s now. I… wasn’t made for trade.”

She glanced at him with warmth flickering in her chest, sharp and unwelcome. He was too familiar like this, too solid. 

The room too quiet, filled only by the ticking sound of a clock on the wall. She didn’t think about it, didn’t weigh it, didn’t hesitate. 

Cassandra crossed the room, setting the half-eaten cake down. She acted before she could think better and stop herself from doing it. Her hand caught his jaw as she kissed him. It was quick, fierce, her lips warm against his, no ceremony, no apology.

Tobias froze, his eyes widened. “Cassandra,” he puzzled, trying to find an answer in her face. “What-”

Cassandra pulled back, smiling unapologetically. “That’s for the mooncakes.”

—

The next morning at the Kiramman estate started as usual, with the scent of warm pastries and steamed milk coming from the dining hall when Cassandra stepped in, hair still damp from a rushed morning wash. She hadn’t meant to return through the front last night, but fatigue was a poor strategist. 

Cecelia Kiramman was already seated at the head of the long table, morning tea steeping beside her untouched. Her robes were pressed, hair flawlessly coiled. 

“Good morning, Mother.” Cassandra said, attempting the neutral tone of a daughter who had absolutely not just returned home late at night. Cecelia didn’t look up.

Cassandra took her seat three places down, deliberately avoiding the one next to her mother, and reached for a piece of bread.

“Where were you last night?” Her mother asked, voice cool and distant. Cassandra hesitated for one second too long.

“Don’t lie,” Cecelia added before Cassandra could even think of a story. “It will only make the conversation longer.”

“I went for a walk.”

“And returned at one in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

The matriarch finally turned her gaze on her daughter. It was the kind of look that had once silenced an entire Council chamber. “Was it Grayson?”

“No.” Cassandra didn’t know why she hadn’t just said “yes” to make this easier.

“Then who?”

Cassandra didn’t answer. She tore the bread in half and focused on her plate.

Cecelia narrowed her eyes slightly, like she was scanning for fractures in her daughter’s mask. “It wouldn’t be the Ionian, would it? The young surgeon?”

Still no answer, just a flicker.

Cecelia set her fork, louder than she intended. “Cassandra, you are at the age now where people will start thinking of inheritance. Stability. Legacy. Heirship . ”

Cassandra looked up. “Heirship? You think I went to a man for breeding stock on my birthday?” It sounded sharper than she meant to.

“I think,” her mother said evenly, “you’ve spent far too long mooning over women who will never give you children, and not enough time thinking about the weight of your name.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m practical.”

“You talk about men like they’re stud horses,” Cassandra snapped, rising now, her voice low and seething. “You don’t even care if I like them.”

“You think liking matters in a marriage?” Cecelia met her tone without flinching. “Do you believe your father and I were in love?”

“I don’t care!” Her father’s name was the last thing she wanted to hear from her mother that morning.

“You should . Because this is what House Kiramman demands. If not for power, then for presence. If not for affection, then for blood.”

“Then you should’ve named a different heir!” Cassandra snapped. “Maybe a horse.” She turned to go.

Cecelia’s voice followed, calm, and cold. “At least the Ionian has the right blood. Quiet, educated, loyal. A child from him might even-”

Cassandra whirled. “ Stop talking about him like he’s a choice of stallion at the stables! ” Cecelia raised a brow.

Cassandra bit her tongue so hard it hurt. But her heart betrayed her, hammering loud and uncontainable beneath her ribs.

“Interesting,” Cecelia said softly, shifting in her chair. “So it is him.”

Cassandra swallowed. Then without another word she walked out, heels clicking hard against the floor.

Back in her chambers, she slammed the door shut with more force than necessary and sunk to the floor. Her heart was still pounding. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to steady herself. Tobias was a friend, a real one, but nothing more.

—

She didn’t write to him that day, or the next, or the day after that. A week passed in silence. Cassandra buried herself in work, poring over schematics for Zaun’s ventilation system, attending Council meetings with a mask of indifference. She avoided the medical district, took different routes through the city, told herself it was just temporary, just until she could think clearly again. But the absence of Tobias' quiet humor, his steady presence, left a hollow she hadn’t expected.

Tobias waited, at first with quiet understanding. Then with concern. And finally with a hollowness that settled low in his chest like a late winter chill that no sun could quite burn away.

He replayed their last conversation in his head. Nothing had gone wrong, nothing obvious, at least. She had smiled at him before leaving, one of those rare, soft ones she only gave when she was exhausted enough to forget she wasn’t supposed to let people in. 

He told himself he understood. She didn’t owe him anything. They weren’t whatever he sometimes wanted to imagine they might be. They were friends, barely. A patient and a doctor. A woman from the top of Piltover’s world, and a man from far enough outside of it that his House name didn’t mean anything. Still, he missed her.

He didn’t expect to see her again in the park.

It was a cold morning, the kind where the breath came out like fog. He had taken the longer route toward the Central Library, hoping the fresh air would clear his head after a sleepless shift. He saw her before she saw him, sitting on a bench. She looked tired.

He almost walked past, almost convinced himself that if she had wanted to speak to him, she would’ve found a way. But then she looked up, startled by the sound of footsteps. A flicker of recognition in her eyes made something in him unspool. 

“Tobias,” she greeted, and for a terrible second he couldn’t tell if she was glad or irritated. He came to stand a few paces from the bench. She hadn’t moved to leave. That was something.

“Hey. Didn’t expect to see you here… You vanished. No letters, no word. Did I do something to piss you off?.” he asked, before he could think better of it.

“No,” she sighed. “It wasn’t you. It’s… my mother.”

“What happened?” He asked, gentler now. 

Cassandra’s lips pressed into a thin line, the words thick in her throat. “It’s complicated and I didn’t want to drag you into this,” she paused.

“My mother thinks it’s time I settle down.”

Tobias let out a breath, his stomach turned at the words. He lowered himself onto the bench, careful to leave a polite space between them. The world beyond the park’s iron gates felt too far away now.

“She wants me to start seeing suitors,” Cassandra went on, staring down at the path before them. “House-aligned, approved by her, appropriately ambitious men with old names and older money. And when I say ‘see’,” her jaw clenched, voice dipping sharper, “I mean select one to marry. To… produce an heir.”

There was a brittle edge to the last words, a disdain she didn’t bother softening. Tobias didn’t speak right away. He wanted to say a dozen things, none of them particularly useful. Wanted to tell her, he could disappear with her into Ionia and they would never look back. But it would sound childish, naive. He knew better than most what families could demand of their own.

So instead, he spoke quietly. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment the only sounds between them was the whisper of the autumn wind and the hum of the city beyond the park gates. Cassandra let her head tip back against the bench, watching the thick grey sky overhead.

“I couldn’t face anyone,” she continued. “Grayson left for her training… And I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

He looked at her then, really looked – at the dark smudges under her eyes, the way her hands fidgeted with her cuff like she wasn’t even aware of it. She looked tired in a way that went past sleeplessness.

“Mother doesn’t care what I feel. She wants me to lie on my back, pop out a child, and thank her for the privilege… It is my duty, but right now it’s just too much.” She let out a tired breath.

Tobias reached out and gently touched her shoulder. Cassandra turned toward him fast, like something inside her snapped the moment she felt kindness.

“Don’t pity me,” she warned.

“I don’t,” Tobias said, steady, unflinching. “I’m furious for you.”

Her eyes searched his face, looking for the lie, the catch, the moment he would pull back or offer some platitude she had heard a hundred times before. But he just sat there, his gaze open, unguarded, the way it always was when they were alone. It was infuriating, how he could be so calm when her world was splintering.

She let out a breath, sharp and uneven “You’re an idiot.”

“I get that a lot.”

For the first time in days, something close to a smile ghosted over her face. It didn’t stay long, but it was real. They sat in a long, companionable silence. Neither of them looked at the other. The hawk came in and banked out of sight overhead.

“I missed this,” Cassandra admitted.

“I missed you,” Tobias replied, quiet enough that she might pretend not to have heard if she needed to.

—

Their friendship stitched itself back together easier than either expected.

Letters arrived again, not daily but often enough. Then the meetings in public started again. And then, inevitably, her footsteps found their way to his flat again. Sometimes she brought files she claimed she needed to review, sometimes she just came for tea and sat in the corner of his couch, watching the city flickering in the window like she wanted to disappear into it.

Tobias was a constant, a quiet rebellion against the life her mother was trying to forge for her. She didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered, the way his hands hesitated when he passed her a book, the way his voice softened when he said her name. To her, he was still just Tobias, a friend, the one person who saw the real her, and not just her name.

But for Tobias, it was a slow, relentless unraveling. Every letter, every meeting, every moment she let him closer, was a dagger twisting deeper. He loved her, really loved her. He no longer tried to trick himself. His feelings only grew with each passing day, every glance, every laugh. He could not keep it locked, not when she needed him, not when she looked at him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

—

The new year came, crisp and unforgiving, and meetings began with it. One every week. Dinners, luncheons, teas. Always at neutral locations, always with men of good stock and perfect pedigree. The sons of noble houses wore smiles, looking at her like a title waiting to be claimed, spoke to her as though she were a delicate puzzle they were certain they could solve, a riddle they would crack and tame.

Cassandra played her part. She smiled, asked the right questions, made polite, clever observations. She was everything they wanted her to be. And she hated every minute of it.

She hated them. Every single one. The men blurred together. One had a laugh like shattering glass, another kept calling her Cassie , like they were already on pet names.

She would go home, throw her gloves in the garbage bin and wash her hands like she could scrub the meetings off her skin. Then she would walk, always ending up at Tobias' place. He didn’t ask questions, he never pushed. 

The end of February came, and with it another summon from her mother came in a note passed by a maid.

Cassandra braced herself and made her way to her mother’s study.

Cecelia stood behind her desk, a stack of correspondence was neatly arranged on her desk, the fire in the hearth was lit, but did little to warm the air. She didn’t look up as Cassandra entered, didn’t speak until the door clicked shut.

“Sit,” her mother commanded.

Cassandra sunk on the cushioned chair, clasping her hands on her lap.

“Two months,” Cecelia went on. “Two months of meetings, introductions, opportunities. And you’ve given me nothing. You haven’t moved forward with any of them. Not a second meeting, not a word of interest, not even a pretense of effort. Do you think this is a game?”

“I’ve done what you asked,” Cassandra answered bluntly. “I’ve met them. I’ve been polite.”

“And you’ve dismissed them,” Cecelia snapped, leaning forward, placing her hands flat on the desk. “Every single one. You’re not a child, Cassandra. You don’t get to play rebellion forever. House Kiramman needs an heir, and you will provide one.”

“I won’t sleep with some man just to give you what you want,” she huffed, trembling with rage. “I won’t.”

Cecelia’s expression didn’t shift. “It is your duty, Cassandra. If you don’t make a choice, then I’ll choose for you.”

The words landed like a blow, stealing the breath from Cassandra’s lungs. For a moment, she couldn’t move, she wanted to cry.  

“You wouldn’t,” Cassandra rasped, barely above a whisper.

“I would,” Cecelia walked around the desk with the grace of someone used to conquest. “And I will. You have until the end of spring to make a decision. If you don’t, if I must, you’ll have no say at all.” She reached out and straightened Cassandra’s collar with a mother’s cold precision. “We are not in the business of delay.”

Cassandra didn’t speak. She turned and left before she could burst into tears in front of her mother. She didn’t go to her chambers right away, she went to the cellar instead, and found the oldest, sharpest whiskey she could get her trembling fingers around. She didn’t bother with a glass, just twisted the cap off and drank like the burn in her throat could drown the sound of her mother’s voice still hissing in her ears.

The sharp burn wasn’t enough. She wanted it to hurt more.

By the time the bottle was down to its last few gulps, Cassandra was swaying, the tears had started silent and hot, like her body had finally figured out how to let some of the stress out.

She stumbled through the hallways with her heels clicking uneven on the marble. One of the maids caught sight of her and immediately ducked away, no doubt running to warn Cecelia. Cassandra didn’t care. Let them see. Let them gossip about the Councilor’s daughter gone to pieces.

She knew what she wanted now. Or rather who.

If she was going to be reduced to a name and a womb, if her body was just a tool for House Kiramman’s future, then she was going to pick the only man in this city who had ever made her feel like a person. She was going to find Tobias. Drunk as hell, in the middle of the freezing night. And she was going to tell him – no, ask him, or demand of him to give her the one thing her mother wanted. On her terms, or at least in a way she could live with.

She made it to the front entrance, with a new whiskey bottle clutched in one hand. She was halfway through unlatching the heavy front doors when Cecelia appeared in the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” her mother’s voice cracked across the space between them.

Cassandra didn’t stop. She pulled one side of the doors open, cold night air cut sharp into her skin, and without turning, she slurred, “To ask someone to pump me full of sperm since that’s what you want, right? An heir? A fucking legacy?”

Cecelia’s face went pale. Not with shock, with cold fury. In three strides she was there, grabbing Cassandra’s arm and wrenching her back inside with far more strength than she should have had. The bottle clattered to the floor, its amber contents pooling on the marble. Cassandra tried to pull away, but her mother’s grip was iron

“You will not humiliate yourself or this House like that!” Cecelia hissed. “You’re drunk. And a disgrace.”

“Let go!” Cassandra snapped, her voice broke, tears burned in her eyes. She shoved at her mother’s hands but it was no use, she was dragged, ungracefully. Cassandra stumbled, she wanted to scream, to fight, but the world was spinning, and her mother’s grip was unrelenting.

They reached her chambers, Cecelia pushed the door open, guiding her daughter inside with the precision of a general. Then, she released her wrist, and Cassandra staggered, catching herself against the bedpost. The room tilted, her stomach churned with whiskey sour in her throat.

“You will sober up. And you will remember who you are. You will not leave this room until you’re sensible.” Cecelia commanded in a low voice.

Cassandra opened her mouth to retort, but her mother was already at the door, pulling it shut. A moment later, there was a sound of the key turning in the lock. The footsteps receded, leaving Cassandra alone.

If Cecelia thought a locked door could stop her – she had forgotten who she raised.

Cassandra staggered to her study. The rain had started, but nothing could stop her now. She yanked the latch open, grabbed her coat from a chair, ragging it over her shoulders.

Cassandra looked out in the open window. The estate grounds stretched out, dark and slick with mud and rain. The study window opened onto a narrow ledge, she had learned to climb as a child. She slipped one leg out, cursing under her breath, but on the other hand, the storm was a mercy – no one would be watching now.

Cassandra made it down the side path, soaked through in seconds, with hair plastered to her face. She could still turn back, crawl into her bed, pretend this was grief, or anger, or whatever else.

But only she couldn’t. She needed Tobias. Needed one thing that was hers before this life ate her whole. And so she kept walking out into the merciless winter night, like it was calling her name like a lullaby.

Chapter Text

By the time Cassandra banged on Tobias’ door, her hands were red and trembling.

He opened it automatically, still asleep, barefoot, dressed in flannel pants and a loose shirt. The reminds of sleep left him the moment he saw her.

“Cass- what the hell-” 

She didn’t let him finish. She crossed the threshold and threw herself on him, hands grabbing his shirt, pulling him towards, her lips crashing against his, messy and fierce, tasting of whiskey and rain. For a moment, he was too stunned to react, his hands hovered in the air, not knowing what to do with them under her grip.

“I want you to fuck me,” she mumbled against his mouth, with her hands clawing at his shoulders. “Tobias, please.”

His breath caught a low, involuntary sound left throat. He wanted her, had wanted her for months. Every letter, every glance was a slow torture. But not like this. Not with her drunk and breaking, full with pain and whiskey, not when she was using her words as weapon turned inward. He grabbed her wrists, gently, pulling her hands from his shirt.

“Cassandra, stop,” he pleaded, though it took every ounce of will to keep his voice calm. “You’re drunk. You don’t want this.”

She then yanked her hands free, eyes blazing, tears mixing with the remains of rain on her face. “Don’t tell me what I mean!” she snapped, cracking. “You’re supposed to want me! Everyone else does. Every fucking suitor my mother shoves at me. What’s wrong with you? What’s fucking wrong with me?!”

Her hands moved again, grabbing his and pressing one to her breast, the other to her hip, the wet, almost translucent fabric of her shirt clinging to her skin.

She reached for him again, her fingers brushed the front of his trousers, bold and reckless. He groaned, a raw, tortured sound, and caught her wrist before she could go further, his grip was tighter this time.

“Cassandra, stop ,” he pleaded again, sharper, holding her wrists just enough to keep her still. “You’re drunk. You’re not thinking. I can’t- I won’t do this.” His eyes searched hers. “You don’t want this. Not really.”

Her breath hitched, her hands falling limp in his grasp. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a raw, aching vulnerability. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and something inside her finally cracked.

A shudder ran through her, her mouth twisted as though she was still trying to hold herself together but failed miserably. The room was filled with the ragged sound of her breathing, and then, the choking hiccupped sobs came out, and her whole frame collapsed against him.

Tobias didn’t hesitate and gathered her up into his arms, wrapping her tight against his chest like something precious, in a way she would have despised if she had been sober. But this version of Cassandra buried her face against his throat and sobbed.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, over and over like a promise.

He carried her to the living room without asking, without giving her the chance to pull away. Her clothes clung to her skin, cold and sodden, the ends of her hair dripping onto his bare forearm. 

“You’re freezing,” Tobias muttered.

He set her down gently on the couch, then crouched in front of her. His hands worked quickly to take off her coat, Cassandra shivered under his touch but didn’t resist, her eyes were fixed somewhere over his shoulder. When he peeled the drenched piece of clothing off her shoulders, she flinched, and he murmured another steadying word, as though any sudden movement might shatter her completely.

“Cass,” he said softly. 

No response. 

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” Tobias kept murmuring, though he wasn’t sure if it was for her or himself anymore.

He worked at the buttons of her shirt next, and she made a broken sound in the back of her throat, too drunk, too hurt to protest. He slipped the sodden thing off her shoulders, careful not to startle her. Then he stood and grabbed a clean towel from the drying rack and knelt beside her again, drying her with gentle strokes. Cassandra was still crying, but it had gone quiet now. When she was down to her underwear, he grabbed one of his shirts from the rack, and pulled it over her head, guiding her arms through the sleeves. It was huge on her, hanging down to mid-thigh.

Her lip quivered, and then again, a sharp sob burst out before she clapped both hands over her mouth like she could shove it back down. He pulled her hands away and pressed her against him one more time. She came willingly, without protest, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Shh,” Tobias murmured against the top of her head, as his hands moved slowly to gather her up in his arms. He carried her to his small bedroom, setting her down on the bed. Cassandra curled onto her side immediately, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, already drifting to sleep. 

“It’s okay. We’ll talk in the morning. Now sleep.” Tobias reached for a duvet to pull it over her. 

He sat by her side long after she had fallen asleep, watching the rise and fall of her chest. Then brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, and whispered. 

“You know? I would’ve said yes if you’d asked me sober. Gods help me, Cass. I’m in love with you.” 

She didn’t stir. 

—

Cassandra woke to the pale morning light filtering through gauzy curtains and the slow ache of hangover pulsing behind her eyes. Her mouth was dry, her limbs felt heavy, her stomach turned the moment she shifted under the weight of the duvet. Everything smelled unfamiliar – tea leaves, and something soft and clean that made her stomach twist for an entirely different reason. She sat up too fast. The headache roared. She winced and pressed her palm to her temple, blinking. And then she remembered – the rain, the streetlights smeared through tears, the heat in her chest, her mother’s voice like a whip. 

Janna . Her face burned.

She looked down and found herself wearing a man’s shirt with its sleeves rolled to fit the length of her arms, the collar was creased where she had curled into herself. She reached beneath the hem – dry underwear, no soreness, no bruising.

Nothing had happened. Or rather everything had happened. And he hadn’t touched her.

A soft clink drew her attention. Tobias was at the stove in the kitchen, still in the same clothes from last night, hair mussed, barefoot, making an omelette. There was no tension in his shoulders, no smugness, no presumption, just the steady calm of a man who had stayed up all night watching over someone who didn’t even know what she needed.

He glanced back when he sensed her sitting up. “Morning,” he said without any trace of judgment. “How’s the head?”

Cassandra swallowed, her throat was raw, her voice a rasp when she spoke. “Awful,” she admitted, rubbing her temple, the headache pulsed with every heartbeat. Then tugged the shirt down, suddenly hyper aware of how it dwarfed her. 

Fragments of last night flickered in her mind: rain, whiskey, her hands on him, her begging, but the details were slippery, blurred by the haze of alcohol and despair. 

“Tobias… what did I do?” She finally dared to ask.

Tobias set down the pan and pulled out a glass, filled it with cool water from a ceramic pitcher on the counter, took a blister of tablets and crossed the room.

“First things first,” he said, handing her the glass. “Drink this. Slowly. And take two of these,” he shook out two tablets.

Cassandra took it from his outstretched hand, fingers brushing his. A spark of memory, of shame, of desperation she didn’t fully recall, but couldn’t forget. She sipped the water, the cold soothing her parched throat. The paracetamol followed, bitter against her tongue. She set the glass on the bedside table, her eyes flicked to his face, searching for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted. 

“I… I remember bits,” she broke the silence. “I came here. I was… I was drunk. I said things. Did I- did I hurt you?”

Tobias leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely, his expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Hurt me? No, Cass. You were a mess, but you didn’t hurt me.” He paused. “You were upset, scared. You showed up soaked to the bone. You tried to- ” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “You wanted something I couldn’t give you. Not like that. Not when you weren’t you.”

Her face burned again, as the fragmented memories sharpened: her lips on his, her hands grabbing, the raw desperation in her voice. 

Cassandra pressed her hands to her cheeks, mortified. “I threw myself at you,” she whispered. “Tobias, I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking. I just…”

He pushed off the wall, crouching in front of her, leveling his eyes with hers, resting his hands on his knees, close but not touching. 

“Hey,” he whispered. “You don’t need to apologize. You were hurting, I get it. And I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re here, safe.” His gaze held hers, warm, unguarded. and in that moment, Cassandra saw the real depth of his care, the strength that had kept him by her side all night.

She nodded, and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes with a new force. “You didn’t… you could’ve taken advantage,” she mumbled barely audible. “But you didn’t. Why?” 

Tobias exhaled a soft, almost rueful sound, and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Because I care about you, Cassandra,” he stated simply. “And I’d never do something that would hurt you. Not when you’re vulnerable. You deserve to make choices when you’re clear headed, not when you’re drowning in whiskey and pain.”

The words settled in her chest, warm and heavy, she brushed a tear away quickly, embarrassed. She wanted to say something, to thank him, to tell him how much his restraint meant, but her stomach lurched violently, with a wave of nausea crashing over her like a tide. 

“Fuck,” she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with panic. Cassandra shoved the duvet aside, scrambled to her feet, and bolted for the bathroom. The door banging open as she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. The water and remains of last night’s whiskey came up in a rush, as her hands gripped the cold porcelain as she retched.

Tobias was there in seconds, kneeling beside her, one hand gently pulling her hair from her face, the other resting lightly on her shoulder. “Breathe,” he murmured. “Just let it out. You will be okay.”

She spit into the bowl, breath ragged, her face burning with humiliation. “Don’t watch,” Cassandra mumbled, in a weak voice. “This is disgusting.”

“I’ve seen worse,” he said with a faint trace of humor in his tone, but not mocking. “Doctor, remember? Just focus on breathing. It’ll pass.” He stayed there until the nausea subsided. Her body slumped against the wall, exhausted, her forehead resting against the cool tile.

He handed her a damp cloth, and she wiped her mouth. “I’m a wreck,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“You’re not a wreck,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “You’re hungover and hurting. That’s all. And I’m here because I want to be.” 

He helped her up, and guided her back to the bed. She moved slowly, like something fragile. He left her to lie down again, and Cassandra managed a weak smile, opening her eyes to look at him. “You’re too good, Tobias,” she said softer, “I don’t deserve you.”

Tobias shook his head, his smile now faded into something more serious. “Don’t say that. You’re worth more than you think, Cass. More than what your mother’s trying to make you.”

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning, and then, a sudden, sharp knock split the quiet.

Three precise raps.

Both of them stiffened. Cassandra felt the blood drain from her face. Her stomach lurched again for an entirely different reason. She knew with an awful kind of certainty who that was. She moved to stand, but then sat again, wincing.

The knock came again. Louder.

Tobias’ eyes flicked to the door, but he didn’t move right away. “Stay there,” his voice was a quiet command as he stood and crossed the room. 

Cassandra wanted to ask him not to open it, to bar the door, to keep this fragile sanctuary intact, but the door already opened.

“Councilor Kiramman.” Tobias greeted politely. Casssandra didn’t need to hear the name. She could feel it – the sudden silence, the shift in the air like something brittle snapping tight.

Cecelia didn’t bother with greeting. 

“Well. At least she’s alive,” The matriarch’s voice cut through the small space, smooth and unyielding.

Tobias didn’t flinch. “Cassandra is here. She is safe.”

“I would hope so,” Cecelia grumbled. “Fetch her. She has five minutes to make herself presentable.”

Tobias didn’t move. “Cassandra is not feeling well.”

“I am aware,” Cecelia snapped. “Spare me the heroics, Doctor Valekor. This is a family business.”

He hesitated a breath, then stepped aside, allowing her sharp gaze to settle on Cassandra, still sitting on the edge of the bed in his shirt, pale, looking back at her mother.

Cassandra flinched where she sat. She could see the cold gleam in her mother’s eyes from here, could hear the unspoken you’ve embarrassed me in every clipped syllable.

“You have five minutes,” she said coldly to her daughter. “I’ll be outside.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

The room fell heavy with silence. Cassandra swallowed. Shame twisted in her chest. “Tobias, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, not looking at him. “For all of it. For dragging you into this.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, Cass. You were drowning. You came to the one person who would never use it against you,” he tried to calm her. “And I’m glad it was me. You’re safe in here, Cass, always.” He grabbed her now dry clothes from the drying rack, and handed it to her. She took it with numb fingers, fighting tears. 

“I’ll… I’ll get dressed,” she murmured. Tobias nodded, stepping out to give her space.

When she emerged minutes later, dressed and slightly steadier, she looked at him like she wanted to say a hundred things and yet didn’t know how. Her lips parted, then closed again.

“I’ll write to you,” she promised. “As soon as I can.”

“You always know where to find me.” Tobias nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

She hesitated, then crossed the room and threw her arms around him, pulling him in a goodbye embrace, holding him tight. Tobias closed his eyes and held her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered at last, “for everything.” Then Cassandra pulled away and walked out the door.

Chapter Text

Cecelia Kiramman stood by the tall window of her study with her spine straight as an iron rod, her eyes scanning the garden below, though her mind didn’t register its neat geometry or the sheen of rain against the stone path. 

Her daughter had escaped. 

Cassandra’s chambers were locked. The maids had knocked early in the morning as instructed, to offer breakfast, only to find the rooms empty. Cecelia had already checked by herself – the window was unlatched, there was a faint scuff on the sill where Cassandra’s heels had scraped the paint. She had climbed out and ran away into the freezing rainy night.

Cecelia exhaled slowly through her nose, clasping her hands tightly behind her back. It was the only sign of her simmering fury she allowed herself to express. Emotions were never helpful, and especially not in these kinds of situations. 

This wasn’t the first time Cassandra had slipped her leash, though, this was the boldest escape she has ever done. Last night’s drunken fury hadn’t been just performative, it had been dangerous. 

The matriarch closed her eyes. She could still hear her daughter’s voice with that final retort spat like venom, sharp and desperate.

Such defiance would not simply burn itself out.

First, Cecelia had sent a messenger to Grayson’s family estate, it was the most obvious choice, as Cassandra still kept in touch with her. But the messenger returned sooner than expected. Grayson’s father informed her that his daughter had departed for training months ago, and Cassandra had never mentioned it.

Cecelia’s jaw had gone tight. That was not the answer she expected. Where else could she be? 

The matriarch paced back from the window, thinking. Cassandra didn’t have friends she confided in, besides the girls she used to bring in. And they, for sure, were not an option. There was only one other person, one name, unwelcome and persistent in Cecelia’s thoughts.

Valekor.

Cecelia exhaled through her teeth, crossed to her desk, and rang for her aide. 

In twenty minutes a note with the address was in her hands. 

Tobias Valekor, a surgeon. The boy had always been too clever, too calm, too kind. The type who didn’t know his place because he didn’t see people in tiers at all. He was naive enough to think his integrity might carry him through Piltover politics. A fool. No man who didn’t understand power should ever be allowed near the heir to House Kiramman. And yet, Cassandra had let him close enough to dismantle her entirely.

Cecelia stepped out into the hallway.

“Summon the carriage, no guards. And tell Martha to bring the green vial from the pharmacy,” she commanded, smoothing the leather of her gloves against her wrists. 

“In case it’s needed,” she added more to herself.

—

The ride home was silent.

The carriage rolled through the city, Piltover’s streets blurred beyond the windows. Inside the cabin, there was no warmth, no words, only the strained quiet of two women sitting across each other.

Cecelia sat with her back straight, gloved hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on her daughter.

Cassandra sat opposite her, hands in her lap, as if mirroring her mother. Her hair hung damp against her cheeks, and her face, hollowed by exhaustion and shame, was turned to the window.

The matriarch studied her daughter in the reflection on the glass, watching every tremor in her jaw, the flush that still hadn’t entirely left her skin, even now. It was obvious, the alcohol hadn’t fully left her system.

They hadn’t spoken once since they left the flat. Cecelia preferred it that way for now. It would be dealt with, Cassandra would learn her lesson, she had to, but not here, not in public.

When they reached the estate, the footman opened the carriage door, and Cecelia stepped out first, she didn’t glance back to see if her daughter followed, she knew she would. Even cornered animals obeyed when the right tone was used.

“My study,” Cecelia commanded, low and clipped, as Cassandra’s foot hit the gravel behind her. “Now.” She didn’t wait for an answer.

The house was silent as they passed through it. No staff loitered in the halls, as if the household had been warned to stay scarce. The study door closed with a soft click, sealing mother and daughter inside the room’s oppressive quiet. Cecelia moved to her desk, and removed her gloves, setting them neatly beside the inkwell. She didn’t sit, didn’t gesture for Cassandra to do so either. Instead, she stood with her eyes locked onto her daughter with the unyielding focus of a predator sizing up its prey.

Cassandra stood near the door, her hands still clasped tightly, shoulders hunched as if bracing for a blow. She didn’t meet her mother’s gaze, didn’t dare to, eyes fixed on the floor, jaw tight with a mix of shame and defiance.

“Sit,” Cecelia ordered finally, sharp and cutting through the silence like a blade. It wasn’t a request.

Cassandra hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but she swallowed the impulse and crossed to the leather chair in front of the desk. There was no point in rising to her tone, Cecelia fed on reaction. Cassandra sat, folding hands on her lap.

“So,” Cecelia went on, “imagine my surprise when you weren’t in your rooms this morning.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a controlled, venomous whisper. “Do you have any idea what I went through to find you?” Cecelia asked. “At first, I thought you were at Grayson’s, but her father informed me she left for training three months ago. Interesting, since you assured me only last week you had seen her.” 

Cassandra swallowed, her throat working around words she didn’t have.

“I will tolerate a handful of youthful indiscretions,” the mother continued. “But what I will not tolerate is you throwing yourself at that surgeon like this.”

Cassandra’s head snapped up. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He helped me. He-”

“Helped you?!” Cecelia cut her off, voice rising, sharp enough to make Cassandra flinch. “You call stumbling into his bed, drunk out of your mind, a help? You were found wearing his shirt, Cassandra, in his flat, looking like some Zaunite street rat. Do you think I'm naive enough to believe nothing happened?”

“Nothing did happen!” Cassandra shot back, her voice cracking, hands forcefully slamming onto the armrests as she leaned forward. “He didn’t touch me, Mother! He wouldn’t, he’s not like the man you think he is. He’s-” She stopped, her breath hitching, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “He’s good. He cared about me when I was falling apart. That’s more than you’ve ever done.”

The matriarch’ expression didn’t soften. “Good?” she repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. “Men are weak, Cassandra. They take what’s offered, especially when it’s thrown at them by a desperate girl in the middle of the night. You’re a fool if you think his ‘goodness’ makes him different.” Cecelia straightened and then retrieved a small glass vial with green liquid inside, and held it out between her two fingers.

“You’ll drink this.”

Cassandra’s stomach dropped. “Mother, I told you-”

“And you’ll drink it,” Cecelia cut her off again. “Because this isn’t about what happened. It’s about what might have. And I won’t let it.” The words struck harder than any slap could have. Cassandra felt her throat tighten, something hot and stinging blooming behind her eyes. She hated it, hated that it still hurt.

She took the vial.

The glass was cold in her palm, she stared at it for a moment, then pulled out the stopper with trembling fingers. The bitter herbal scent stung her nose.

“Drink,” Cecelia ordered.

Cassandra tipped it back and swallowed. It burned, sharp and acrid down her throat, worse than any whiskey. She gagged, blinking hard against the burn in her eyes. Then set the empty vial down harder than she meant to, the little glass bottle clinked against the wood.

“Are we done?” Cassandra rasped.

Cecelia turned then, her eyes blazing. “Do not raise your voice to me,” she hissed, stepping forward. “You’ve already embarrassed yourself, this House and me enough for one night. I will not tolerate insolence on top of it.” 

Cassandra’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t respond, her eyes flickered briefly to her mother’s face before dropping down again. 

“You think this is a cage, Cassandra? You have no idea what it means to fight for a place in this world. Your grandmother built this House from scraps, clawing her way past men who thought she was some stupid girl with ships from Ionia, past families who laughed at our name. You stand on our sacrifices, Cassandra, and you spit on them with your drunken tantrums and your lowborn lovers. You are an heir and that comes with obligations, and you know this.” Cecelia continued, burning Cassandra with her gaze. “You can sleep with whomever you please – Grayson, that surgeon, half of Piltover if you will, I couldn't care less. But only after you fulfill your duty to this House.”

“I’m not an animal to be bred,” Cassandra mumbled, almost bursting into tears.

“No,” Cecelia agreed, and her voice dropped even lower. “You are a Kiramman. And the line will pass through you, that is not a metaphor.” 

Cassandra didn’t respond. 

Finally, Cecelia gestured to the door with a flick of her wrist. “This conversation is over. Clean yourself up. The Council meeting is in three hours.”

Cassandra sat there, trembling, with tears already streaming down her face, her chest heaving with the effort to hold back the sobs clawing at her throat. She wanted to scream, to make her mother see her, but the weight of Cecelia’s words, the weight of the Kiramman name, crushed her. She stood, and stumbled out of the study, the door slamming behind her, echoing in the silent hall.

She tried to hold back her cries until she reached her chambers. The second the door clicked shut behind her, her feet faltered and the tears burned hot in her eyes with a new force like a wild fire. Her hand groped blindly for the wall, but her knees gave way before she found it. The polished wood blurred in her vision as she sank down, pressing her back to the door. 

She didn’t move for a long time. Just sit there, sobbing, eyes closed, tears slipping down her cheeks. Her hands trembled, nails biting into her palms. The contents of the vial, her mother forced her to take, still burned faintly in her stomach.

Cassandra wiped her face roughly, pushed off the floor, and crossed to the bathroom. Her reflection looked back at her like a ghost, but also like a little girl in a too big world, trying to play soldier with paper armor. Her stomach turned from something far more poisonous now – shame, and rage, tight and hopeless coiling just under her ribs.

She splashed water on her face, trying to calm down. Combed her fingers through her hair until it looked less wild. Tidied, like her mother would want, like House Kiramman demanded. But her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

She made it to her bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and curled forward, wrapping arms around her knees. The weight of the conversation settled on her like a lead blanket.

She was trapped.

There was no way out. Her mother was right about one thing – she would never let her go. Not until Cassandra had done what was expected, not until she was safely boxed in by marriage and children. And even then, she doubted her mother would loosen her leash. 

The tears had dried up, there were no more left to cry them out. All that was left now was a deep, gnawing ache under her ribs that made her feel hollow.

And then, like a spark, a thought flickered through the fog. It was stupid, desperate, but it wouldn’t leave.

What if she just… fulfilled it? What if she gave her mother what she wanted, but did it on her terms?

The thought was stupid, but it rooted itself quickly. 

What if she got pregnant? What if she gave her mother an heir, and then no one could tell her what to do ever again? No more suitors, no more meetings, no more bargaining over her name like it was property. She wouldn’t have to marry, not if she already had a child.

The Kiramman name passed from mother to daughter. A child was expected of Cassandra. That child didn’t have to belong to its father, it never had, what had mattered was the blood. 

Her grandmother had clawed her way through Piltover without a man beside her. And Cecelia never once told her anything about her own father. Because there was no man, not really. Only whispers that Cecelia had been born to a man who left little behind but a child. No portrait hung of him, no letters bore his name. He was a ghost in House Kiramman lineage. Cecelia had grown up without him, raised only by a mother. The founder of House Kiramman had built her fortune with her own hands, and never once needed a husband to anchor her power.

Cecelia, unlike her own mother, had secured her power by marriage, and that was a strategic decision, a political match, not a love story. The head architect of Piltover, seventeen years older than her. Cassandra’s mother had chosen him with the same ruthless precision she chose investments and allies – he was useful and that was all that mattered to her.

The Kiramman blood was what mattered, not the father. Her grandmother had established the rule, and, if Cassandra had a child on her own, it would be just the same. She didn’t need her mother’s approval.

Would her mother fight it? Likely. But even Cecelia couldn’t undo a child born of Kiramman blood.

She thought of Tobias. 

The name landed in her chest like a stone. His face, the memory of his steady hands holding her hair back as she was sick, his voice murmuring soft reassurances. It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t the way her mother tried to frame it. It was something else, something she didn’t have a name for, and maybe didn’t deserve. But she trusted him, and after last night… she knew, with unshakable certainty, that he would never use it against her.

Would he despise her for even thinking it? She didn’t know. 

But she knew, if she asked him, truly asked him, maybe he would say yes, maybe he would understand, maybe he already did.

The thought made her sick and dizzy in equal measure. It wasn’t fair. To him. To the child. To herself. But it was a way out.

Cassandra scrubbed a hand through her hair, pushing the strands back from her face. Headache thudded on, dull and cruel. But the idea rooted itself in her mind. No, she couldn’t decide this now, not like this, rattled, raw, and aching. But the seed was planted, if nothing else, it could be something like a plan.

Chapter Text

The next few days Cassandra didn’t have much time to think about her reckless plan, her mother made certain of it. Her schedule was filled, leaving no time for dwelling.

She had sent Tobias a letter the morning after her ‘return’ home. A single line: I’m alive. Mother’s keeping me busy. I’ll write soon. No details, but enough to keep him from worrying, or so she hoped. 

Cecelia had made sure Cassandera returned to her meetings with suitors. The latest had been this afternoon – a short, round man with a habit of interrupting her every sentence. Besides that his cologne was way too heavy for the daytime. Cassandra had smiled politely, nodded when needed, exactly like her mother demanded. And then excused herself early, claiming a headache.

The idea was now constantly spinning in the back of her mind. 

A child, her child, born of her choice, not out of some match approved by her mother. Was it reckless? Yes. But the thought of another meeting with another man pressed her further toward the edge. 

She hadn’t asked Tobias yet, hadn’t dared put it in a letter. He was the only person she could trust with this, the only one who had seen her at her lowest, and hadn’t turned away. But this? Asking him to father a child, to tie himself to her rebellion, to risk her mother’s wrath and the city’s gossip? It was a leap that made her stomach churn. What if he said no? What if he looked at her with pity, or worse, disgust? She couldn’t wait any longer, if she was going to do this, she needed to know where he stood.

She knew Tobias was off shift that day, had memorized his schedule without meaning to.   And so, Cassandra waited until dusk, put on a coat with hood up, and left the estate slipping through the side gate. No carriage this time, she decided it would be better if she walked by herself, just in case she would change her mind. She didn’t. 

By the time she reached his building, the nerves had pooled low and heavy in her gut. Cassandra raised her hand to knock, but then hesitated. This was pure madness. She was about to ask the only decent man she knew to ruin himself for her. 

But there was not another choice. So, she knocked, three sharp raps, and waited.

The door opened, and there he was, already dressed in pajamas. Tobias blinked, his expression shifted instantly to concern as he recognised the look on her face. 

"Cass?"

She didn’t answer, just stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind her. The warmth of his flat wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. She shrugged off her coat, hanging it by the door, and kicked off her boots. 

Tobias watched, silent, he didn’t press, just stepped forward, drew her into his arms, and held her there. The moment felt like déjàvu, but only this time Cassandra in his arms was sober.

The suddenness of it broke something in Cassandra, he pulled her in without asking questions. He was warm and solid when nothing else in her world was. He smelled of shampoo and clean clothes, and she was getting too comfortable. If she stayed like that a little longer, she might never have the courage to ask. But she hadn’t come here to be held. She had come with something far heavier, and it was now or never, so she pulled away.

“I need to talk to you,” she said finally, “about… everything that happened… and something else.”

Tobias nodded, gesturing to her in the kitchen. 

"Tea?" He asked with a flicker of worry in his eyes, like he was bracing for bad news.

"No," she replied. "Or yes- I don’t know."

He made it anyway. A small mercy of normalcy as Cassandra paced the room – two steps toward the window, then back. 

“I just… I need you to listen, okay? All of it. And don’t- don’t say anything until I’m done.”

“All right, I’m listening.” Tobias leaned against the counter.

She took a breath, trying to calm her nerves, and started. 

“After my mother dragged me out of here, she took me to her study. She was furious – called me a disgrace, said I’d humiliated the House. She thought… she thought you took advantage of me,” her voice cracked, but she forced herself to keep going, her gaze fixed somewhere on the kitchen cabinets, not on Tobias. 

“I told her nothing happened, that you didn’t touch me, but she didn’t believe me. She made me drink this… the green vial, to make sure I wasn’t… pregnant. She twisted what you did – taking care of me into something dirty.”

Tobias’ eyes darkened, a muscle twitched in his cheek, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She went on about duty,” Cassandra continued, with anger bleeding through the words. “About the Kiramman name, about how I have to produce an heir. She’s been shoving suitors at me every week. All of them the same – smirking, entitled, looking at me like I’m a prize to be won. Today was the worst yet. Some idiot who thought he could charm me by interrupting my every word,” Cassandra snorted, then finally met his eyes. “I can’t do it, Tobias. I can’t marry one of them. I won’t.” 

Tobias wanted to say something but she stopped him with a gesture. Shook her head, and continued. 

“And if I don’t pick someone by the end of spring, she’ll choose for me. And I’ll be trapped, with some man I hate, just to give her what she wants.” Cassandra crossed her arms protectively over herself. 

“But then I realized," she didn’t break eye contact with Tobias, swallowing hard. "The only way I get out is if I… if I give her what she wants. On my own terms."

The air between them felt suddenly brittle. Tobias froze, then shifted slightly, trying to comprehend something he couldn’t believe.

"Cass… what are you saying?"

Cassandra swallowed. This was it. The moment she couldn’t take back. 

“The Kiramman blood is what matters. It is passed through the mother, not the father,” her voice trembled, but she pressed on. “If I have a child, the line continues. It doesn’t matter who the father is. And I’d be free. No more suitors, no forced marriage. I could choose my life.”

Tobias went utterly still, eyes searching her face like he was trying to solve, if she was seriously going to ask him what he thought. 

“Cassandra…” She didn’t let him finish. 

“I want it to be you,” she blurted. “I’m asking you to help me. To… to get me pregnant. Not by mistake, but because I trust you. Because you’re the only person in this city who sees me not as just my name. I know it’s a lot to ask, Tobias. I know it’s unfair, and maybe you’ll hate me for even thinking it. But I can’t do this with anyone else. I won’t do this with anyone else. I want it to be you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Cassandra could hear her own blood echoing in her ears. Tobias didn’t move, his eyes were still locked on hers, and there was a storm in them now.

Her chest squeezed painfully. She had ruined it. She had crossed the line and now he was going to say no, and she would lose him.

Tobias closed his eyes, dragged a shaky breath through his nose, and ran a hand through his hair, staring at the floor. 

“Cass, do you even hear what you’re asking me?” He asked in a rough voice. “This isn’t just a rebellion against your mother. That's… this is a life.”

"I know," she whispered, stepping closer, her hand twisted towards him. She wanted to touch him, to steady herself, but was afraid it would make this situation even worse. 

“I know it’s not small. I know it could ruin your reputation and everything you’ve worked for. And I wouldn’t if there was any other way. But it’s the only way I see out. Otherwise I’m sold off to someone who wants a pretty name on his marriage contract…” she trailed off. “Tobias-” her voice cracked. “I’m drowning. And you’re the only person who’s ever tried to pull me above water. I trust you. Please. I’m asking you to trust me too.”

For a long moment he just looked at her, trying to see past her words to the truth beneath. 

“You’re certain?” He asked quietly. “This isn’t just fear talking? Or anger at her? Because if it’s done, there’s no undoing it. A child isn’t something you can drop when you’re tired of them. It’s forever. For you, for me, for them.”

Cassandra nodded, fighting tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve thought about it for days. It’s not anger – it’s survival.  And I want it to be you because… And it’s you because…” She bit the inside of her cheek as her voice faltered. “Because you’re good. Because you’ve never asked me for anything, never used me. Because I- ” the words catched, too raw to finish. 

Because I care about you, more than I should… Because I love you.

She couldn’t force them out, not yet. But she forced her eyes to hold his, begging him silently to understand what she couldn’t say.

Tobias exhaled again, then shook his head.

“Cassandra, I need time,” he said finally. “This isn’t something I can answer right now. I need to think.”

A single tear slipped down Cassandra’s cheek, but she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Okay,” she whispered. “Take your time. I just… I needed to ask. I needed you to know.”

Tobias’ hand hovered near her arm but he didn’t dare to touch. “I’m not saying no,” his voice came almost as a whisper. “I’m saying I need time.”

Cassandra nodded, furiously wiping the tear with the back of her hand. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For not hating me.”

Tobias nodded, a faint, sad smile tugged at his lips. “I could never hate you, Cass. You’re…” He stopped, like he was holding back something bigger. 

They stood there, in the small kitchen charged with everything unsaid. She wanted to reach for him, to hold onto his warmth, but only she couldn’t. Not now, not when he needed space.

“I should go,” she said after a moment. “Before my mother sends someone looking.”

He nodded, stepping back, his hands slipped into the pockets of his pajama pants. “I’ll write to you,” he promised, “when I have the decision.”

“Okay,” she whispered, pulling her coat back on. Then paused at the door, looking back at him for one last moment. “Tobias… Thank you. For listening.”

“Always,” he gave a small nod

With that, Cassandra stepped into the cold night, and walked back to the estate. The seed was planted, the question asked. Now she only had to wait, and pray Tobias would say yes.

—

Tobias stood in the quiet of his flat long after Cassandra’s footsteps had faded down the street. The room felt strangely hollow without her there, like something vital had been cut out from his life. He covered his face with both hands, letting out a heavy breath.

A child. 

He crossed to the table, where the teacups were still full and had long gone cold, and sat heavily on a chair by the window.

A child.

The word echoed, settling low in his chest. He had spent years training for practical problems – diagnoses, surgical complications, and this wasn’t like any of them. There was no handbook for what to do when the woman you loved asked you to ruin both your lives to save hers.

A child.

Children weren’t pawns. They were miraculous lives meant to be born into families to be loved. As a pediatric surgeon, he knew that truth better than anyone. And Cassandra had just asked him to make one with her.

He loved her. That was the truth he couldn’t run from. He loved her enough to want to say yes, even if logic screamed at him to stay away. He tried to bury his feelings when it was still possible. Wanting her was dangerous, and dangerous things were meant to be avoided.

Now she was asking him for the one thing that would tie them together forever.

Tobias stood, crossing the space to pour the cold tea down the sink, just to give his hands something to do. 

Her words hit him like a blast. I trust you. He set the cups down too harder than he meant to, the porcelain clinked against the counter. What did she even mean by that? Trust, sure, he had earned that, hadn’t he? But a child? 

Tobias leaned against the counter, staring at the opposite wall. His throat tightened. Did she even love him? Cassandra had said she wouldn’t do this with anyone else. But what did that mean? What if this wasn’t love? What if she only wanted him because he was safe? Because he was convenient?

He didn’t know. Gods, he didn’t know.

And still, he wanted to say yes, wanted to give her everything. Cassandra was his weakness, his unraveling, and she didn’t even know it. He had almost told her tonight. And yet, he didn’t, couldn’t – he was too afraid. 

A child deserved more than a father who was just a means to an end, more than a mother who saw them as a key to freedom. And yet, the thought of saying no, of letting her turn away made his stomach twist with jealousy he hadn’t known he could feel.

If he said no, he would lose her. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Cassandra didn’t bluff. She would take his refusal as rejection, she would cut him out before he ever had the chance to explain. 

He could not lose her. Not now, not when he had finally allowed himself to admit he couldn’t picture his life without her in it.

That was the truth he couldn’t escape. And because he loved her, he couldn’t answer her right away, not thinking it through. He couldn’t let his heart override his head. Cassandra deserved better than a rushed decision, better than a man who would say yes just to keep her close, or a no out of fear. And the child, their child if it came to that, deserved parents who had thought it through and still chose them.

Chapter Text

Three days after Cassandra’s visit, Tobias sat at his desk, staring at the blank page before him. He had been sitting like this for at least half an hour, and the page was still blank. A storm raged in his mind. He had spent the days overthinking every plan, every possibility. And yet he still didn’t have the exact answer.

He loved her, and that love was the main reason he couldn’t say no, even if every rational part of him screamed to. If saying yes meant risking everything, saying no meant losing her forever.

Tobias looked up at the clock. If he wasn’t done with this within the hour, he would be late to his evening shift.

So he picked up the pen, wrote, then sealed the letter.

The envelope was dropped in the postal box on the way to his shift.

—

Cassandra received the letter at breakfast, in a stack of other correspondence laid out on the silver tray that was placed between her and Cecelia. She recognized Tobias’ handwriting instantly, but didn’t dare draw attention to it. With practiced ease she slid it to the bottom of the pile, waiting until her mother’s attention drifted to some report. Only when her mother left the room, ​​did Cassandra allow herself to pull the letter free. She broke the seal with trembling fingers, already fearing the worst.

The words were not as frightening as she imagined.

Cass,
I have thought about what you asked. We need to talk. Come to my place after lunch, if you can. I’ll be here.

Not a refusal, not an acceptance either. The words were not frightening, but they did not give her relief. Though he was right, of course. These things should not be discussed in letters. She folded the page and slid it into the pocket of her trousers.

Cassandra endured her morning’s obligations – her day began with a Council meeting preparation, then there was a meeting with an engineer at the Academy, and finally, by midday, she joined her mother for lunch at a restaurant. When the meal ended, Cecelia was called away to another meeting, and Cassandra was finally free. Technically, that time should have been devoted to drafting documentation for the Zaun ventilation system, but that could certainly wait.

So Cassandra slipped out onto the city streets and made her way quickly toward the medical district. Time was not on her side, and her mind had already begun looping through a relentless stream of questions.

Had he eventually decided to hate her for dragging him into this and that was their last meeting? No, Tobias had said he would never hate her… But what if he would say no, what would she do then? If Cassandra had been honest with herself, she hadn’t planned what she would do in that case.

She reached his building, knocked with slightly shaken hands, and the door opened almost instantly. 

Tobias’ expression was neutral, unreadable, but his eyes lit up as he greeted her. 

“Hi, Cass. Come in.”

Cassandra greeted him in response, stepped inside, kicked off her boots, and followed him to the kitchen, where two steaming cups of tea already sat on the small table. Like he knew the exact minute she would arrive. 

They sat, and her fingers wrapped around the cup, nervously tracing its rim with her thumbs. Tobias was the first one to break the silence.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you asked,” he went on. “I meant it when I said I needed time, and I still do. But I want you to hear something from me first.” 

Cassandra looked up. 

“I would never say yes just to rescue you from her. Or just to be… your way out. But if we do this, I want to be in it fully,” he said softly. “But before you say anything,” Tobias added, leaning forward, resting his arms on the table. “I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me.” 

Cassandra nodded.

“If we do this,” he continued. “If there’s a child… will I be present in their life? Or am I just…” He paused, swallowing. “Just a man who helped you out? Because I don’t know if I can do this, if I will be nothing to them, if I’m just a name on a medical record.”

Cassandra stared at him. Shock rolled through her first, quickly followed by relief. It wasn’t a refusal. If anything, it sounded like the opposite, even if he hadn’t said the word outright.

She hadn’t realized how much this weighed on him. Tobias thought she had asked him only to use him, because he was convenient. No, that was never it. Cassandra felt her throat tighten.

She reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “Tobias,” she whispered. “You’re not… some arrangement, you never were. That’s why I asked you. Because I knew you wouldn’t leave them. Because I knew you wouldn’t be like the others,” her throat burned. “Of course you will be in their life. I’d never take that from you. I trust you, and I want them to have you,” she took a breath. “I know what it is to be loved by a father, and I want our child to know that too. I want them to have both loving parents, because a child deserves that.”

Tobias let out a long breath, closing his fingers around Cassandra’s. 

“Alright, but only if we do it this way. I want to be their father, I want to be there, even if it’s messy, even if your mother tries to bury me for it. But I need you to be sure, Cass, really sure. Because once it’s done, there’s no undoing it.”

Cassandra swallowed, trying not to start crying right away. “I’m sure,” she stated in a trembling voice. “I’ve thought about it, over and over, and I know what I’m asking. I know it’s selfish, and risky, and I hate that I’m pulling you into this. But you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

Tobias exhaled, smoothing a thumb over her knuckles, like he was trying to steady himself. 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Then it’s a yes. We’re doing this, but we do it carefully, Cass. We plan it, step by step, to make sure this pregnancy is safe for you, and we don’t get caught by your mother before you’re ready to face her.”

Cassandra nodded. “What do we need to do?”

Tobias leaned back against the chair, letting his doctor’s mind kick in. “First, we need to talk about your health. Your splenic and spine injuries – it’s healed, but pregnancy puts stress on the abdominal cavity and spine. The scar tissue could cause issues, especially in the third trimester. You’ll need regular checkups. And also you’ll need to keep stress low, which I know is a tall order with your job and your mother.”

“I can manage that,” Cassandra nodded, smiling reassuringly. “What else?”

“First, we’ll need blood work. I want to make sure you’re healthy enough for this. Then, cycle tracking, ovulation timing. If we’re going to do this, we do it right, to maximize the chances of conception. I can… I can walk you through it, if you’re not sure how to track.”

Cassandra’s cheeks warmed at the clinical bluntness of his words clashing with the intimacy of what they were discussing. “I think I can figure it out. I’ve been regular since the hospital. I’ll let you know when… when it’s time.”

He gave a small, reassuring smile at that. “Good. And after it happens, you’ll need to be extra careful those first weeks. No strenuous work, no climbing out of windows, no running off to drink yourself sick.”

“I didn't plan on making a habit of that,” she huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. 

“I’m serious, Cass,” he continued, not breaking eye contact with her. “The first trimester is the most fragile. If you want this to work… you need to take care of yourself, Cass. And please, let me take care of you, whether you like it or not.”

“I will let you,” Cassandra promised after a beat.

They sat like that for a while, with the weight of it all sinking in around them. 

Finally, Tobias shifted, clearing his throat. “Cassandra, there is something else I have to ask you.”

Cassandra shifted in her chair too. “Alright,” she whispered. Tobias hesitated, running a thumb over her knuckles again. 

“What does this mean… for us?”

Cassandra’s stomach twisted. She knew this was coming, of course he would ask, how could he not? And now that it was here, he needed an answer, an honest one.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, quietly. “Not in the way you probably hope I would.” Her eyes dropped to their joined hands.

“I’ve never… I mean, you know me. I’ve only ever been with women. I’ve never felt like this with… it’s… different with you. I don’t even know what to call it. And it terrifies me.” Cassandra forced herself to meet his eyes again. “I don’t want to lie to you, I… care about you, Tobias. More than I thought I could. But I don’t know if it’s… maybe that’s what real love is, or maybe it’s something else entirely. I just… all I know is I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to pretend what I feel for you isn’t real, even if I cannot name it now.” 

Tobias’ expression didn’t falter. If anything, something in it softened. 

He reached up, brushing a thumb against her cheekbone. “I’ve been in love with you for months,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve tried not to be, Cassandra, I’ve tried. I buried it because I knew nothing good could come of it. Because you’re… a Kiramman. And because it was never fair to ask you for something you didn’t have to give.”

For a moment, Cassandra just stared at him. Then, without thinking, she rose, crossed the narrow space, and pulled him in a kiss. A real one this time, not like the desperate one on that rainy night, or the one she gave him on her birthday. 

Tobias kissed her back, and gods help him, he had wanted to for so long. His hands came up, tentative at first, then sure, cupping her hips, then, pressing into the small of her back to pull her closer.

Cassandra made a soft, uncertain sound against his mouth, and that undid him completely. Tobias scooped her up as he rose from his chair, carrying her to the couch, not breaking the kiss. Her body curled against his as Tobias settled them onto the couch, slipping one of his arms around her shoulders.

Cassandra let out a soft sigh as she tucked her head beneath his chin. 

“Promise me one thing,” she whispered after a moment. “Don’t keep such parts from me ever again.” Then kissed him again, this time softer and slower.

“I promise,” Tobias answered without hesitation. 

They lay there holding each other, and neither of them spoke for a while. Cassandra pressed her face to his neck, tracing an idle pattern on the fabric of his shirt with her fingers. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but one thing she knew for sure, she didn’t want to move. 

Eventually, she tipped her head up just enough to catch his gaze. “So…” she murmured teasingly. “What’s next, Doctor Valekor?”

Tobias huffed a soft laugh, leaning his forehead against hers. “Next,” he said quietly, “I’ll take your blood tomorrow. And then we track your cycle, and we wait.”

Cassandra smiled at him. “Oh,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re so insufferably responsible.”

He grinned at that. “One of us has to be,” he responded, grinning, Meanwhile his fingers brushed a strand of hair from her temple.

Tobias rose and crossed to his desk to retrieve a new, clean notebook. and the conversation turned practical. He laid out the book on the coffee table in front of them, as he explained the signs they would need to watch for, drawing a chart in the book. Cassandra listened carefully.

Eventually, Tobias pressed the notebook into her hands, and Cassandra promised to take it seriously. 

“I should go,” she sighed and pushed to her feet. “If I’m gone much longer, my mother will start suspecting.”

Tobias stood too, trailing to the door behind her. “Same time tomorrow?” 

“Same time.” Cassandra smiled, tired but sincere

Tobias reached out, brushing his knuckles along her cheek once again. “Be careful, Cass.”

“I always am,” she promised, and left.

Piltover’s streets were dimming with evening by the time Cassandra left his flat.

For the first time in weeks, her walk back home wasn’t weighed down by dread. For the first time in weeks, her world felt brightened. Cassandra smiled to herself.

Tobias had said he loved her, and she had admitted her own feelings too. Perhaps the future was no longer so dark.

Cassandra slipped through the side gate of the Kiramman estate. Up the stairs, down the hallway, and back into her rooms, unseen.

Chapter Text

The blood work Tobias had taken the next day showed mild anemia, nothing serious, but enough to prescribe iron supplements, which Cassandra promised to take daily. She tracked her cycle as Tobias told her, marking the days in a notebook that was hidden in a lower drawer of her desk.

And then the day thirteen came. 

Ovulation, according to Tobias' chart. She didn’t need the notes to tell her, she could feel it in her own body. By the way her senses sharpened, the way her skin felt hotter, somehow.

Cassandra had spent the entire day on edge. Council meeting dragged endlessly, and of course her mother noticed her mind was somewhere else. “You’re distracted,” Cecelia pointed after a tense exchange over trade route tariffs. “Sorry,” Cassandra replied, swallowing the urge to retort. 

When evening fell over the city, she had returned to her chambers, locked the door, and took a long, scalding shower. The hot water helped to ease the tension in her shoulders but not the tension in her mind. 

The steam lingered in Cassandra’s bathroom, curling in the air as she stepped out of the shower and stood before the full length mirror. She let the towel ease off her shoulders landing at her feet. She hadn’t meant to linger, but some invisible force made her study her naked reflection.

Her bare reflection stared back. The scars were the first thing she noticed – the pale, jagged lines curving over her abdomen. They were fainter now, almost a year of healing smoothed their edges and yet, they would never fade completely. 

Cassandra pressed two fingers to the scar tissue, breathing in deep, tracing it with her fingertips. She had cried the day she first saw it. Because it was ugly and was never meant to be there. And now it would always be a reminder of the fact that she had survived the accident. Now it was just a part of her like any other detail of her body. 

Her gaze drifted further, lingering on the curve of her hips, her full breasts drew her eyes next, then the slope of her shoulders, the way her collarbone caught the light. Cassandra crossed her arms around herself briefly, then forced them down, refusing the instinct to hide. This was her body, hers to claim, and she was choosing what to do with it. And yet, her eyes betrayed her. Sharp and blue just like her mother’s, but tonight they were wide, flickering with nerves and maybe even fear.

She leaned closer, studying the lines of her face. The faint crease between her brows, the slight shadows beneath her eyes as proof of too much stress and sleepless nights. Her lower lip on the left side slightly chapped from nervous biting. She looked like a woman on the edge of something vast. 

What was she even doing?

She was about to sneak through Piltover’s streets, to Tobias’ place, to conceive a child that would free her from her mother’s grip. 

Her stomach churned with the weight of it all. What if it didn’t work? What if her mother found out too soon? And what if Tobias regretted it after all?

Cassandra closed her eyes, exhaling shakily, then opened them again, and tried to see something else – a spark, a defiance that would carry her further. She wasn’t just a pawn in her mother’s hands. She was Cassandra, a Kiramman. A woman who defied expectations, who found a way out into freedom. And tonight, her body was a weapon for it. 

She entered the dressing room, steadying her breath, and reached for the underwear drawer, staring at the garments inside. She had never dressed for a man before. Would Tobias even care what she was dressed in? Perhaps not. He was not the sort of man to be dazzled by fabric. And still, she felt the need to wear something special.

Cassandra’s fingers hovered over a set of ivory lace that perfectly matched her skin tone. It was elegant and expensive, though not so ostentatious as a burgundy one was.

She tugged a set from the drawer and laid it over the bed. Her hands trembled slightly, Cassandra exhaled, grounding herself. Then stepped into the lingerie and adjusted each strap, smoothing the fabric over her hips, then rolled her stockings up with practiced fingers, attached the garter clips, and straightened again to face herself in the mirror.

The reflection was different now. The same body, the same scars, but beneath the layers of lace she looked more certain. Or at least, she looked like she could pretend well enough to pass. Cassandra drew in a long breath, held it, then let it out through her nose. No turning back. She dressed the rest of the way in silence: a cream knitted dress, brown cloak, gloves, and shoes. 

The estate had long since quieted, settling into evening routines. She slipped out through the side gate and disappeared into Piltover’s dark streets

—

Cassandra knocked, and before the sound had fully faded, the door opened.

Tobias’ eyes swept over her, taking in the flush to her cheeks.

“I’m ovulating,” she blurted the moment their eyes met, before he could say a word.

Tobias blinked, caught off guard. “Well,” he chuckled. “Good evening to you too,” he said quietly, stepping back to let her in.

Cassandra moved past him, brushing her fingertips over the edge of the doorframe as she crossed the threshold. The space was different than usual. The familiar clutter of books and medical journals was gone, replaced by neat stacks arranged near his desk. Without thinking, her gaze drifted further, towards the doorway leading into the bedroom. From where she stood, she caught a glimpse of the bed. The sheets had been changed. Of course he would.

“I made food,” Tobias added, closing the door. He took her cloak, brushing their fingers briefly, and hung it by the door. 

“Thought we’d eat first,” he gestured to the kitchen, where two placemats waited on a small table. Cassandra nodded, her stomach was too knotted for hunger, but she was grateful for his effort to make her comfortable. 

Tobias brought her a bowl, then set his own beside it. She stared down at the bowl – rice and sweet chicken. Cassandra thanked him for the food and for a while neither of them spoke. They ate, and surprisingly, the food settled inside, grounding her. When Cassandra set her chopsticks down and pushed the empty bowl aside, Tobias looked up, setting down his own chopsticks after a moment, then leaning forward slightly.

“You’re nervous,” he stated. Not a question, not an accusation, just a fact. “Talk to me, Cassandra. What’s going on in there?” He tapped his temple lightly, a small, teasing smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes were serious, inviting her to unravel.

Cassandra exhaled, twisting her fingers around a napkin. “I’m… I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s just… real now. Today. This moment. I’ve been planning, tracking, thinking about it for weeks, but now it’s here, and…” She trailed off, meeting his eyes. “Tobias, what if it doesn’t work? Or what if it does, and my mother finds out too soon? What if I’m dragging you into something you’ll regret?”

Tobias leaned back, reached across the table, and covered her hand with his, warm and steady. “Cass, listen. You’re not dragging me into anything. I chose this. I said yes because I want to be here with you.” His thumb brushed her knuckles. “And if it doesn’t work this cycle, we’ll try again. If it does, we’ll face your mother together. But right now, it’s just us. Okay?”

Cassandra nodded, her chest loosened slightly. “Okay,” she whispered, squeezing his hand back. “You’re… too good at this, you know. Calming me down.”

Tobias chuckled. “Years of talking patients and their parents through surgeries. You’re not much different,” he paused. “You’re incredible, Cass. You don’t see it, but I do.”

Her cheeks warmed and she looked down, embarrassed by the sincerity in his words. “Don’t start with that. I’m just me, Tobias.” 

Then, after a beat, she leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table, chin resting in her hand. A gesture Cassandra wouldn’t have allowed herself to do in any other setting.

“And what about you? You’re so calm about this. Aren’t you… nervous at all?”

Tobias exhaled, twisting a glass in his hand. “Nervous? Yeah. Terrified, if I’m honest,” his eyes met hers, unguarded. “Not of you, or this, but… what I am risking. I keep thinking… but then I look at you, and…” He shook his head, a small, wistful smile tugged at his lips. “I can’t say no to you. Never could.”

Cassandra’s heart stuttered with the weight of his confession settling over her. She reached for his hand again, lacing her fingers through his. “I’m glad I have you in my life.”

“I’m here because I want to be.” Tobias shifted, his knee brushed hers under the table. “Cassandra, I need to ask one more time. Are you sure about this? Really sure? Because we can wait, eat more, talk until dawn if you need to.” His eyes were serious, searching.

Cassandra exhaled, steadying under his gaze. “I am sure,” she tightened her grip on his hand. “I want this, Tobias. I want… us, tonight.” 

She pushed back her chair and rose slowly, Tobias followed the motion instinctively, his hand hovered near her waist but didn’t dare to settle until she closed the distance. Cassandra pressed a palm to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as her own one quickened, then lifted her chin up, and pressed her lips to his.

Tobias inhaled sharply, his hands finally found her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, Cassandra’s hands slid to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt.

Without breaking the kiss, Tobias shifted, guiding her to step back, until they found themselves moving together towards the bedroom. Their mouths broke apart only briefly, just enough for them to catch a breath.

Tobias' hands moved with care, one sliding up the slope of her spine, feeling each vertebra beneath the fabric of her dress, the other settling at her hip. “I’ll be gentle,” he murmured against her lips.

Cassandra pulled back just a fraction. “I’ve had sex before, Tobias. With women, yes. But I’m not some inexperienced thing.”

That earned her a quiet, disbelieving laugh from him, adding something warm in the air between them. “Fair enough,” he said, almost shy.

Cassandra smiled back at him as her fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, then down to the waistband of his trousers. Tobias gasped as she cupped him, his hips jolted forward instinctively. His laugh died in his throat, eyes darkened like the sky before a storm. “Oh, Cass…”

They kissed again, deeper now, stumbling back toward the center of the room with hands pulling at buttons and fastenings. When her dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, Tobias froze.

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. His gaze swept down her body, lingering on the lace, shimmering in the dim light. But then, his eyes caught on the pale scar lines marring her stomach. His hand lifted, tentative, fingers ghosting across the mark.

“Do they still hurt?” he asked, barely a whisper.

“No,” Cassandra answered quietly, guiding his hand to follow the curve. “Not anymore. Now it’s just part of my body.”

She met his eyes, letting him see she was telling the truth. Tobias nodded, then leaned forward pressing his lips to the scar, his beard scratched across her skin, making Cassandra gasp. It was a strange sensation – being seen and wanted in full even when her body was no longer perfect.

Tobias’ hands roamed further, palms gliding over her back, her sides, then finding their resting place at her hips, brushing the top edge of the lace with his thumbs. “Cassandra…” he murmured, husky with restraint. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her smile returned, real and sure this time, as she unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the unfamiliar landscape of his chest. She took her time, letting her fingers explore what was different from what she knew and was used to.

He kissed her again, slower now, like they had all the time to memorize each other. His fingers moved to the clasp of her bra, and the garment fell away, exposing her. Tobias, without hesitation buried his face in her chest, pressing soft kisses to the valley between her breasts. A flicker of surprise crossed Cassandra’s features as his lips moved, kissing the soft curves. It felt good. She had expected him to be fully devoted, but not with such unguarded reverence.

The kisses trailed lower down her sternum, but then paused, his dark eyes looked up at her with a spark of heat. “Tell me what you like.”

Cassandra smoothed her fingers over his hair. “Your mouth-” she smiled in response.

Tobias didn’t need her to finish the sentence. He gently guided her onto the bed, then shifted lower, unclasping the garter belt with careful fingers. Slowly, he rolled each stocking, pressing his lips to her sharp knees, then returned to her mouth, kissing her deeply. Cassandra lifted her hips in an invitation, and Tobias hooked his fingers into the waistband of her lace panties, sliding them off to reveal her fully. 

Now she lay bare, with her legs slightly parted. Tobias took his moment to gather his thoughts. She was breathtaking. And now, after all these months of longing, she was offering herself to him, sober and consent.

Tobias drew a slow breath, and leaned over her again, kissing her as he spread her thighs wider, sliding one hand to her folds, testing. She was already slick with arousal. A soft gasp escaped Cassandra's lips when her hips bucked. Tobias’ gaze flicked to her face, drinking in the way her eyes fluttered shut, as a wave of pleasure rippled through her.

Satisfied, Tobias’ lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and he lowered his face between her legs, spreading her thighs further. Cassandra gasped as his mouth found her clit. He started with small licks, teasing her sensitive bud, then sucked gently, drawing a moan from deep in her throat. 

Her body responded eagerly, and Tobias, satisfied with her response, slipped one finger inside her, testing her tightness, moving slowly to ensure she was comfortable. Cassandra’s walls clenched around his finger, and he added a second, curling them to find that sensitive spot inside her. Cassandra’s hips bucked again, her moans growing louder now.

Cassandra gripped on his hair, pressing him closer, her body trembling as pleasure coiled tight in her core. “Tobias,” she gasped, in a breaking voice, ready to release.

Tobias hummed against her, and that vibration was all she needed. Orgasm hit her hard, and a sharp cry came from her throat as her walls clenched around his fingers. Though, Tobias didn’t stop, continuing lapping his tongue through her climax, drawing out every shudder until she collapsed, breathless.

He kissed her inner thigh, then her stomach, moving up to capture her lips in a slow, tender kiss. Cassandra’s hands reach for his face, pulling him closer until she tasted herself on him. 

“You’re too good at that,” her lips curved into a wide, breathless smile

“Just getting started,” he whispered, looking at her with adoration.

Cassandra hooked her fingers into his belt. Tobias’ hands covered hers, helping to unbuckle the belt. Then, he stepped back just enough to shed off his trousers and boxers, letting them land on the floor.

Cassandra’s breath caught as she stared at his hard, fully exposed cock. She had never seen one this close. It was thicker and longer than she had imagined. How could something so overwhelming even fit inside her?

Her fingers twitched, and she reached out, drawn to explore, wrapping her slender fingers around his length, tentative at first, then bolder, feeling it pulse in her hand.

Tobias groaned, a low, guttural sound, watching her. Cassandra moved her hand experimentally, stroking along his length, then smoothing her thumb over the tip, feeling the slick bead of precum under her touch. It was fascinating, the way Tobias’ breath hitched and  his hips twitched slightly. It was a powerful feeling, to know she could easily cause such a reaction from him.

“Cass,” Tobias growled, almost pleading. “If you keep that up, I’ll be done too soon.” His hands moved to stop her.

Cassandra’s cheeks flushed, a small “sorry,” escaped her lips as she moved her hand away from him, wiping it on the sheet, embarrassed.

Tobias leaned in, capturing her mouth in a reassuring kiss. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured against her ear. 

“Are you ready?”

Cassandra nodded, bracing herself. She knew it likely would be painful. 

But Tobias surprised her. Instead of entering her right away, he brushed the tip of his cock against her folds, teasing the sensitive, slick entrance. Cassandra gasped, her hips jerking at the jolt of unexpected pleasure. Tobias kissed her again, trying to distract her as he positioned himself to enter.

The first push was slow, but Cassandra’s breath caught sharply as he stretched her. The sensation was intense, like a mix of burning stretch and pain, making her tense instinctively. She exhaled loudly into Tobias’ mouth, digging her short nails into his shoulders, trying to process the overwhelming fullness. 

“Is it alright?” Tobias paused, smoothing his lips over her ear as an apology, giving her time to adjust.

Cassandra nodded, nervously. “Just… go slow,” she managed, meeting his eyes, and finding reassurance in his.

“It’ll be alright after a bit,” he promised, kissing her more before starting to move with shallow thrusts at first. To Cassandra’s surprise, the burning sensation began to fade as her body slowly adapted to his size. The fullness was still overwhelming, but it was starting to feel right, like her body was learning him. Tobias picked up his tempo, and brought one hand down, circling his fingers on her clit. 

The combination felt strange. Where his thrusts alone had been intense but not quite pleasurable, the added stimulation of his fingers sparked something new. A series of quiet moans escaped Cassandra’s lips when pleasure bloomed. Her hips began to move with him, chasing the sensation that was building.

“Tobias, harder,” she moaned, louder now, arching into his touch. The pleasure was intoxicating, a coil tightening in her core. Tobias exhaled sharply, and obeyed, thrusting faster, hitting her cervix with each stroke of his cock.

Climax hit her suddenly, crashing through her in waves. Her walls clenched tightly around him, pulsing, encouraging him to release. “Tobias,” she exhaled into his neck, clinging to him. 

Tobias felt her walls contract around him, pushing him over the edge. He groaned, burying deep inside her, spilling hot. His hips stuttered as he thrust a few more times, riding out the intensity.

He paused, still inside her, taking a moment to catch his breath, resting his forehead against hers. Then, as he slowly pulled out, Cassandra felt the warm spill of his cum drip from her. Tobias noticed, and brushed his cock against her entrance again, gently pushing some of the cum back inside.

“You’re everything, Cass,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder as he shifted to lay beside her. Cassandra, still dazed, curled into him, pressing her cheek to his chest, letting out a quiet breath onto his shoulder. 

“So… that was…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for a word, then settled on a small, amused smile. “...different.”

Tobias looked down at her, with a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Different good or different bad?”

Cassandra tilted her head slightly, enough to glance up at him. “That was… better than fine, actually.” 

Tobias chuckled. “Better than fine is good. I’ll take it.” He reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was good,” Tobias murmured after a moment. “More than good.”

They lay in that stillness for a moment longer, until Cassandra shifted onto her back and suddenly frowned.

“What?” Tobias asked.

“Should I elevate my legs or something?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You know,” she gestured vaguely, “for conception. Doesn’t gravity help?”

Tobias blinked again, then snorted, pressing his face into her shoulder to muffle a laugh.

Cassandra whacked his chest lightly. “Don’t you dare laugh at me. I’m serious.”

“No, no,” he said, trying to compose himself. “It’s just… that’s such a you thing to say right now.”

“Well, it’s practical,” she huffed.

Tobias looked at her with amusement. “It’s a myth, mostly. Gravity doesn’t make much difference. But if it makes you feel better, you can prop a pillow under your hips for a bit. Won’t hurt.”

Cassandra huffed a quiet laugh, shifting closer to him. “Fine, Doctor Valekor, no pillow then.” She reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I just… need this to work. You know that,” her voice grew quieter.

Tobias’ smile faded into something more serious, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “We did everything we could tonight,” he murmured. “It’s up to biology now. And whatever happens, we’re in this together, okay?” Cassandra nodded.

They lay in silence for a moment. Tobias pulled a duvet over them, his hand settled on her lower back, fingers carefully brushing the faint scar from her spinal surgery, as if afraid to stir old wounds.

“We should… do this again tomorrow, shouldn’t we? To be sure,” Cassandra looked up at him again.

Tobias nodded. “Yeah, tomorrow’s still within the window. We can try again,” he paused. “Assuming you can sneak out without raising suspicion.”

Cassandra’s smile faltered, the mention of suspicion pulling her back to reality. “I can manage,” she replied as a flicker of unease crossed her face. “But I should go soon, or else she’ll notice.” 

Tobias' hand tightened. “I hate that you have to sneak around like this. We’ll make this work, Cass.” He leaned in, kissing her softly. She kissed him back and then pulled away.

Cool air pricked her skin as she reached for her discarded clothes. Tobias watched her, as she slipped back into the lingerie, the stockings, and then, the dress. 

He stood too, pulling on his trousers. Crossed to the door, and with quiet care, helped Cassandra settle her cloak around her shoulders. 

“Be safe, Cass,” he whispered quietly.

“I will. And thank you, Tobias. For… everything.” Her eyes held his gaze, conveying what she couldn’t say. He smiled, small and sad, and kissed her forehead one last time. 

“Go,” he murmured, opening the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she slipped into the night.

Chapter Text

By the next morning, the nerves from the previous evening were gone completely.

They met again that day, and the day after. They no longer spoke about whether it would work. They both knew exactly what they were doing, and allowed themselves to lean into it, savoring the process. 

On the second night, Cassandra took the lead. “Let me try something,” she murmured, straddling him, splaying her hands on his chest. Tobias' eyes widened as she guided him inside her, letting her set the pace. That night, the bedroom in Tobias’ small flat was filled with their heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed beneath them. 

On the third night, Tobias was on his shift at the hospital. Cassandra knew it was reckless to meet up there, but she wasn’t about to skip a chance, not when time was slipping through her fingers. So she slipped out of the estate after another suffocating dinner with her mother.

She kept her hood up, afraid to be noticed as the hospital loomed ahead. She quickly made her way around the building, avoiding the main entrance just as Tobias had told her last night.

Pediatrics ward. Service door, 11 p.m. Be quick.

Her pulse thrummed with a mix of fear and anticipation. The risk of being caught by hospital staff ignited a fire in her belly in the way she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just a necessity driving her now. It was a thrill. The memory of Tobias' hands on her body, the softness of his lips, the sound of his voice when he whispered her name in the dark, it all had rooted in her like a fever.

She reached the service door and knocked twice. 

The door creaked open, and Tobias was there, dressed in his purple scrubs. His eyes widened briefly, then softened as he quickly pulled her inside, closing the door with a quiet click. 

“Cassandra Kiramman, you are insane,” he stated with a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Coming here? Seriously? If anyone sees us-” 

“They won’t.” She cut him off. “We can’t miss today. You said it yourself, every chance counts,” her eyes held steady, with determination despite the risk.

Tobias exhaled, reached a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and nodded. “Alright, but we better be fast. And quiet.” 

He took her hand and led her through a dim corridor. They moved quickly, dodging the main halls until they reached a supply closet. Tobias pushed the door open, pulling Cassandra inside, and locked it behind them.

The room was small, with shelves lined up with boxes, jars, and folded linens, the air cool and faintly musty, a single bulb flickered overhead. The quiet was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of the hospital beyond the door and their breathing. 

The confined space amplified the intimacy. And without wasting precious time, Tobias turned to Cassandra, pulling her closer, and kissed her hard. Cassandra’s heart pounded. The kiss was hungry, his lips tasted of coffee. She kissed him back, digging her fingers into his shoulders. Her body was already aching for him as their kisses grew frantic. Hands roamed – hers tugging at his scrubs top, his sliding under her dress, brushing the fabric of her panties. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he murmured against her mouth. “You’re going to get me fired.” 

Cassandra smirked, nipping his lower lip. “Quiet,” she whispered. “You’re the one who said we have to be quiet.” 

Her hand slipped down to cup him through his scrubs pants, feeling his hardness. That drew a sharp gasp from Tobias. And the next moment they were lost in each other. Their mouths crashed together again. The kiss was messier this time, teeth and all, filled with raw, irresistible passion. His hand slid between her thighs, finding her slick and ready. And a soft, broken sound Cassandra made into his mouth nearly undid him.

“Fuck, Cass,” he groaned, as his thumb brushed over her clit. 

The next moment two fingers slid inside her, and Cassandra gasped, way more loud than she expected. Her hips bucked, and her hands clutched tightly at his shoulders when heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. 

Cassandra froze. 

Tobias’ free hand instantly shot to her mouth, his eyes widened with warning. “Shh,” he breathed into her ear, barely audible. 

The sound of the steps passed by the door, slow and unhurried, like whoever it was knew they had no reason to rush, no idea what waited just on the other side of the thin wall. 

Cassandra’s heart hammered against her ribs, with the arousal and fear tangled so tightly together.

Tobias’ hand stayed over her mouth, his other still buried inside her, motionless now. The feel of him was a cruel, but perfect contradiction against the danger outside. Her eyes met his, dark and wild. Her hand was still cupping him through his scrubs. She felt his cock twitch under her touch, and saw the struggle in his eyes. His chest was rising and falling in shallow, controlled breaths. It was clear, he was barely holding himself together, wanted to give in, but knew one sound could end it all.

The footsteps stopped, and something electric passed between them. A silent question. A dare. Cassandra shivered, not breaking eye contact. 

That was it. That was how they would be discovered, making out in the hospital supply closet. Tobias would be fired, and she… she couldn’t even bring herself to imagine what her mother would do to her after this.

For a long, breathless moment, they just stared at each other, silently praying for the person outside the door to walk away.

Then, as if the gods had truly heard their plea, the footsteps miraculously resumed, fading away down the corridor until silence once again reclaimed the hall.

Tobias exhaled, letting his hand slip from her mouth, brushing a thumb across her bottom lip like she hadn’t just nearly gotten them both caught.

“You’re dangerous,” he teased, leaning in to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth before sliding lower, tickling her throat with his lips. “And reckless.”

Cassandra’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer with a sly smile. “And you totally knew that when you signed up for this,” she whispered back.

“I did,” he grinned, capturing her mouth again. His fingers picked up their slow,  teasing pace inside her, drawing a soft, muffled moan from her against his shoulder.

“Now,” she hissed against his ear, one hand working at the knot of his scrubs. “Inside me. Now.” 

Tobias groaned into her neck, and his fingers slipped out of her, leaving her gasping at the loss. He grabbed her thighs, lifting her with a surgeon’s strength, and pinned her against the wall. Cassandra’s breath hitched as her back met the cool plaster, his body crushing against hers, undid what little composure she had left. Without hesitation, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her dress was up again, panties shoved aside.

Tobias thrusted into her hard in one swift motion. “Fuck, Cassie,” he whispered in a cracking voice, like every last thread of restraint had snapped.

The sudden stretch made her gasp, Cassandra gritted her teeth to bite back a sound as his movements grew deeper, making her dizzy.  

“You- ” she gasped, brushing his ear, “-are absolutely terrible at being quiet.”

“Says the woman who’s practically shredding my back to ribbons,” Tobias huffed a breathless laugh, as his pace faltered for a brief second. 

Her teeth caught his earlobe in an answer, and he growled low in his throat, driving into her harder. The sound of it – wet, slick and filthy, was obscene in the hush of the closet. Cassandra’s head tipped back against the wall, closing her eyes. It shouldn’t have felt this good, but it did.

Her hips matched his every thrust, each stroke sending a white hot pulse through her, building pressure faster than she expected. Maybe it was because of the danger, but she was already spiraling towards release.

“I’m- ” she barely got the word out, “Tobias, harder!”  

And Tobias obliged, thrusting into her with desperation.

It didn’t take long. Cassandra’s body clenched around him, and a high, broken sound was bitten down on his shoulder. Tobias followed a moment later, releasing inside her with a strangled groan.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sounds were their ragged breathing, the distant hum of the hospital and the muffled beat of their hearts trying to calm down. 

Then Tobias leaned his forehead against hers, letting a shaky laugh escape his mouth. “We’re out of our damn minds.”

“Maybe,” Cassandra whispered, still catching her breath, and a wicked little smile tugged at her mouth. “But you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“Don’t you say shit like that right now,” he muttered against her skin, smoothing a palm over her thigh, grounding her there, like she might disappear the moment he left her.

Cassandra let her head fall against his shoulder, with a ghost of a grin still lingering on her lips, but already giving its way to something quieter.

“I should go,” she murmured quietly. 

Tobias closed his eyes for a beat, swallowing down the thousand things he wanted to say and knew better than to voice when he opened them again.

“I know,” he whispered, letting her slide down from his hips. She swayed a little when her feet, still unsteady beneath her, found the floor. Tobias caught her by the waist, steadying her.

“Cassandra, you’re reckless as hell,” he confessed, at last.

“Like you didn’t love every second of it,” she shot back, smoothing her skirt down, looking straight into his eyes when she said it.

“I did,” Tobias admitted, already adjusting his uniform, and dragging a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “And I’ll hate myself for it later, but I’d do it again.”

Cassandra’s fingers paused at the tie of her cloak. She looked up at him with something deep flickering across her face, only to be quickly replaced by her familiar seriousness.

“Was it… enough?” she asked, uncertain. “I mean. Did we do enough?”

Tobias stepped closer, cupping her jaw in one hand, tilting her face up until these blue eyes met his. “We did everything we could. The timing was right. But…” He hesitated, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone. “You know there’s never a guarantee. It is biology’s call now.”

Cassandra gave a sharp, humorless huff of breath. “Yeah,” she muttered, shaking her head like she was trying to dislodge the knot in her chest. “Alright, Doctor Valekor.”

For a second, neither of them spoke. Cassandra adjusted her cloak, pulling the hood up. Tobias checked the door, cracking it open to listen for footsteps. 

“Corridor’s clear,” he whispered, turning back to her. “Service door. Same way you came in. Don’t stop for anyone, Cass. I’ll cover if anyone asks.” His voice was urgent, but his hand lingered on her arm, reluctant to let her go.

Cassandra’s fingers brushed his as she reached for the door, then stopped, closing her hand around his wrist for a heartbeat longer than necessary. 

“How long before… before we know?” she asked, not quite looking at him.

Tobias sighed, leaning his weight against the wall. “Earliest would be ten days,” he murmured. “But better to wait a full two weeks. That's when we can test. I’ll draw your blood myself. We’ll keep it off the records. No one will know.” His lips twisted in a rueful smile. “No magic answer, Cass. No instant certainty.”

She let out a low, frustrated sound. “Two weeks,” she repeated, tasting the words. “I’ll lose my mind before then.”

He stepped closer again, squeezing her hand. “You keep going,” he said gently, reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, to offer her comfort. “You’re stubborn as hell. And you’ll be too busy to brood, I’m guessing.”

Cassandra made a face at that. “Oh yeah, right, you mean Council meetings and my mother breathing down my neck with her suitors? Delightful distraction.”

Tobias let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Exactly that,” he muttered. But the humor faded quickly, and the remains of teasing drained from his expression completely.

“Listen to me,” he urged, serious now. “Two weeks will pass and we’ll know.” Cassandra only stared at him.

“Alright,” she breathed at last. 

Tobias opened the door, and then she was moving again, pulling the cloak tighter around herself, stepping through the door. The corridor beyond was empty. She paused once at the threshold, looking back. Tobias gave a small, wry smile and jerked his head toward the exit. “Go.” 

—

And then came the waiting.

Cassandra buried herself in work, just as Tobias had known she would. Council meetings, estate management, revisions of her ventilation project, replying to correspondence.  Anything to keep her mind occupied. 

Tobias had sent letters on days they didn’t see each other: Are you eating? Don’t forget your supplements. Rest when you can. She tried to ignore them, telling herself it would be easier that way, but instead it made waiting only harder.

Cecelia noticed, of course. 

“You’ve been restless,” her mother had commented one evening over dinner. “And you’ve refused to speak properly with the last suitor I arranged. That’s becoming a problem, Cassandra.”

“I’ll do better,” Cassandra replied tightly, knowing she wouldn’t. The thought of sitting through another vapid conversation with some son of a Councilor made her skin crawl.

“You’re running out of time,” Cecelia warned. “You need to start behaving like a Kiramman.” 

Cassandra swallowed the impulse to retort. She just nodded and let her mother’s voice wash over her.

Days turned into weeks. She had marked them in her notebook – Day 18. Day 19. Day 27. Monitored every twinge in her body with obsessive precision. Day 28 came and her period didn’t. Day 29, and a fragile hope had begun to take root.

But then, one morning, it all was wiped away by the familiar ache in her lower belly, dragging Cassandra from sleep.

She lay still, staring at the canopy of her bed, willing for it to be something else. But the ache persisted, and a sick, sinking feeling settled in her gut. She shoved back the duvet and saw a blood stained sheet, a small but unmistakable spot. Her heart sank. 

"No," Cassandra breathed.

She rose and crossed to the vanity, flinging open the drawer, pulling out the notebook. Her fingers trembled as she flipped to the calendar. There it was, marked in Tobias’ precise script – Day 32, the day her period was supposed to skip if their plan had worked. But it hadn’t. The blood was proof.

“Damn it,” she hissed with frustration boiling over. Threw the notebook over her bed, and sank into the chair, resting her head in her hands. Cassandra knew it was normal, conception often took multiple cycles, Tobias had warned her, but the failure stung no matter that knowledge. 

She was running out of time. Cecelia’s patience was thinning. If she didn’t conceive soon, she would be trapped, married off to some wealthy son, and her freedom would be gone.

Cassandra pressed her palms to her eyes, willing the tears back. “Get it together,” she breathed harshly in the quiet room. 

Soon she would have to stand, to force herself to clean up, to dress, and endure another day full of meetings and false smiles. 

But for now, she sat very still, just a little longer, letting herself breathe through the storm.

Chapter Text

The following two weeks dragged with the feeling of failure Cassandra couldn’t shake off.. Everything felt dulled, as if she was moving underwater. She could feel the walls closing in around her. Two more failed attempts, and her mother would close the trap completely.

And so she did what Cassandra Kiramman always did in the face of pressure – she worked. She had buried herself in it, spending long hours – Council reports, archive management, anything to deaden her feelings. She hoped, maybe her mother wouldn’t be frustrated with her if she kept busy. 

Then, one evening the word had arrived. 

An envelope, sealed in the wax crest of the Engineering Committee. Cassandra slit it open with practiced ease and unfolded the letter. The words were clear – her ventilation proposal for Zaun had been approved. Construction scheduled to begin within the next few weeks.

A year. She had fought over twelve grueling months to push that project past political resistance. To get clean air to the industrial sectors of the Undercity, where Zaun citizens choked daily on the Grey. It was a victory, objectively, and yet.

She took a long breath, set the letter down, stared at it for a long time, and felt nothing. No flicker of pride, no spark of the satisfaction she imagined for months. Nothing.

It should have mattered, it did matter. It was her project, her idea, and yet, now it was just something to file away. Because what good was it, if in a matter of months, she was shackled to a marriage she didn’t want? What good was it when every choice she made still revolved around the expectations her mother placed on her shoulders?

Two next days had passed in that same suffocating rhythm. And on Day 13, Cassandra slipped out of the estate after dinner and made her way to Tobias' place. 

Two raps on the door, and Tobias pulled her inside.

“Hi,” he greeted, then frowned when Cassandra didn’t smile at him. “Everything okay?”

She didn’t answer, just stepped closer, and slid her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his shoulder. His arms closed around her after a second, holding her close.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Cassandra muttered into the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah,” he murmured against her hair. “I can see that.” 

She didn’t respond this time, just let out a short huff of air against his neck. 

After a moment, Tobias eased her back to look at her face. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, she did in fact look tired, way more than usual.

"Let's have some tea, and you tell me everything, alright?” he asked quietly, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.

Minutes later, the kitchen smelled of herbal tea, steaming in two cups sitting on the small table. Cassandra wrapped her hands around her cup, staring at it for a long moment. Tobias glanced at her, stirring his own tea while listening to muffled sounds of the city outside as Cassandra remained silent. At last, he set his cup down. 

“Maybe eat something,” he offered. “I bought pastries, and there’s soup left.”

Cassandra only shook her head. “I just had dinner at the estate.”

“Alright,” he let it go.

She took a sip of tea, staring into the cup, and then, after a while she finally spoke. “My ventilation project got approval for construction three days ago, and now it’s already falling apart.”

“What happened?” Tobias looked up from his own tea.

“Sabotage,” Cassandra stated flatly. “Or as close to it as makes no difference. Councilor Hoskel’s people have been rerouting my shipments. Half of my engineers have been pulled for some bullshit inspection on the railways. They’re trying to strangle it until it dies.”

“That project is important.” Tobias' brow furrowed. He tried to reach Cassandra’s hand, but she pulled away.

“Don’t you think I know that?!” she snapped, sharper than she meant to. Then winced, rubbing a hand over her face. “Sorry. I’m just- ”

“Tired,” Tobias finished for her, “and pissed off. You don’t have to apologize for this.”

Cassandra let out a low, humorless breath, and rested both elbows on the table, rubbing at her temples like she could scrape the exhaustion out of her skull if she pressed hard enough.

“I’ve fought for this for over a year,” she went on. “Dragged it through every committee. And now when it’s finally cleared, they're still finding ways to cut its throat before it even starts. Not even saying anything about most of its funds being Kiramman money. Fine, if they don’t want charity, but how can they not understand that people work better when they’re breathing clean air? That they’d actually produce more?” 

Tobias listened without interrupting.

“And the worst part is-” Cassandra took a breath. “I don’t even have the energy to care the way I should. Janna. Every time I get something through, someone’s already finding a way to tear it down. And I’m… I’m so fucking tired of fighting them for scraps. Fighting my mother. Fighting the Council. Fighting for Zaun when most of Piltover would rather let them choke.”

Tobias didn’t say anything. Just reached across the table again and covered her hand with his. 

“You care, Cassandra. You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t.” 

Cassandra didn’t pull back this time. She didn’t answer right away, just stared at their joined hands at his big fingers against her dainty ones. After a beat, she turned her hand over, linking her fingers through his. 

“I don’t want to end up like them,” Cassandra admitted quietly. “Like other Councilors…  like my mother. Crushing people because you can, because you’re expected to.”

“You won’t. Cassandra, you’re kind, you actually care, you’re not like them,” Tobias reassured without hesitation.

Cassandra huffed again, then drained the rest of her tea in one long swallow and stood up. 

“I should… we should- ” she gestured vaguely toward the bedroom. 

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked softly.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” she uttered, and reached out to kiss him.

Afterward, she lay against him, with her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to his steady breathing. While Tobias' hand traced absent patterns on her bare stomach, trailing his fingertips over the faint ridges of old scars. Neither of them said anything for a long time.

Cassandra closed her eyes. The tension she carried on herself all day, had begun to unravel the moment she stepped inside his flat, and now she felt completely drained. But at least she wasn’t alone now. The warmth of Tobias’ body beside hers had lulled her mind towards sleep, pulling her under.

“Cass?” Tobias murmured after a while, so quietly he wasn’t even sure if she had heard it.

No answer.

He tilted his head just enough to glance at her face. She looked peaceful now, with her mouth parted slightly, breathing slow and even. Asleep. Completely and utterly.

Tobias shook his head, smiling with adoration. “Of course,” he muttered, “you’d fall asleep the moment I meant to ask you something.”

He knew she couldn’t stay for the night, and despite his own internal conflict he shifted carefully, meaning to wake her. But Cassandra only made a sound of protest, curling tighter against him. Tobias sighed, then reached for the edge of the duvet and pulled it up over both of them, tucking it around her shoulders. 

He knew he would have to wake her soon. Cecelia would tear the city apart if she found Cassandra missing at this hour. But for now, he let her sleep.

—

The next two evenings blurred together in much the same way.

On the second night, they shared tea and a cheesecake Tobias had bought that morning. Then she let him undress her, let herself be touched. They made love with a kind of weary, determined tenderness, chasing comfort more than anything else.

On the third night, she brought a bottle of nonalcoholic wine she had stolen from the estate cellar and they passed it between them on the wide windowsill. Tobias made her laugh, told her how his patient parents made a birthday party for their son right at the hospital ward, and Cassandra almost forgot how much pressure was sitting on her shoulders. Later, the bottle sat forgotten on the sill as their laughter gave way to something else. Tobias' hands found her hips, guiding her closer until her mouth pressed against his throat, tasting his skin.

Each night she left before dawn. Each night Tobias watched her slip out into the night. And then came the waiting.

Cassandra returned to her duties with grim focus. She spent her mornings buried in the paperwork of her ventilation project, which was, predictably, a nightmare – her permits mysteriously delayed, again. And afternoons she spent attending Council with her mother.

And through it all she felt… off.

Cassandra was exhausted, more than usual even for her. Council meetings left her head throbbing, and she had skipped meals a few times, dismissing the nausea as nerves or the constant anxiety twisting in her stomach. Some mornings, she felt unsteady on her feet. She blamed it all on late nights and the weight of expectations pressing down on her. It was nothing. Or rather, it had to be nothing. 

But then something utterly strange happened.

She was in the estate library, reviewing correspondence when her mother swept in. And with her her perfume, filling the space like a fog. Cassandra had always liked the scent – apple and lotus. But today it hit her like a wave, sharp and overwhelming. She frowned, wrinkled her nose, and pressed a hand to her temple, trying to focus on the letter in front of her.

“What’s that look for?” Cecelia’s voice cut through the haze, edged with suspicion. 

Cassandra didn’t answer right away. She fought the sudden urge to gag as her stomach gave a warning lurch. She felt her mother’s gaze sharpen on her.

“I asked you a question. Is there something in the letter?” Cecelia insisted.

Cassandra’s hand froze at her temple, she forced her expression to smooth, despite the cloying scent in her throat. 

“No. Nothing serious, It’s just a headache. It’s a long week.” she answered.

Cecelia’s eyes narrowed as she studied her daughter. 

“You’ve been like this for days,” the matriarch commented, stepping closer. “Distracted. Barely eating. And now you’re turning up your nose at my perfume? You’ve always liked it before.” Her tone was sharp and suspicious, like she was trying to see through Cassandra’s defenses to find the truth underneath. “If you’re ill, Cassandra, you need to say so.”

“I’m not ill,” Cassandra assured, sharper than she intended. Then exhaled slowly, and set the letter down. “It’s just… the scent is too strong today. I’m tired, that’s all.” She waved a hand, hoping to deflect. “I would have informed you if I was ill.”

Cecelia paused for a moment longer, watching her intently. “See that you do,” she said. Then turned back to her work, pulled a folder from the shelf she had come for, and quietly slipped out the door.

The moment the door clicked shut, Cassandra let out a shuddering breath and leaned forward, pressing her face into her palms. The room still smelled of apple and lotus. Cassandra sat there for several minutes, breathing shallowly, willing the tight knot in her stomach to loosen.

The perfume. It wasn’t just strong, it was unbearable. She had never reacted like that before, not to something she had once found comforting.

It was nothing. It had to be. Except deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. The exhaustion, the nausea, the sudden aversion to a scent she had loved since she was fourteen. It all was adding up.

Cassandra pushed herself up from the desk and paced, sat down, stood up again, and pressed both palms to her stomach, as if the gesture might bring the desired into existence.

Tobias.

She needed to see him.

Tobias was on a night shift, so she waited until the next morning. She reached the hospital before shift change, waiting near the main entrance, leaning against a lamppost as staff trickled out. Tobias emerged right at 8 a.m., his eyes were heavy with fatigue. Though, as he spotted her, his expression shifted first to surprise, then to concern.

“Cass?” he asked, crossing to her. “What are you doing here? Everything’s okay?”

She pushed off the lamppost. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Can we talk somewhere private?” 

Her expression told him everything. He nodded, glancing around, then took her hand, and led her through the main entrance, down a corridor to his ward in pediatrics. Unlocked a small office and gestured for her to step inside. 

“Now tell me, what is it?”

Cassandra sank into a chair and took a shaky breath. 

“I’ve been feeling… off. Nauseous, headaches. And yesterday, my mother’s perfume, the one I’ve always liked, it made me want to gag.”

Tobias leaned against the desk, eyes sharpening on her as he processed the words. “When did this start?” he asked in a calm, clinical voice.

“A few days ago,” she considered, twisting fingers in her lap. “I thought it was stress, but… it’s more than that. I don’t understand, Tobias. If this is… it’s from this cycle, right? But it’s only been nine days.”

Tobias frowned, rubbing his jaw. “Nine days since our last time, yeah. Symptoms this strong, this early… that’s unusual, assuming you conceived this cycle. Your period last month, you’re sure it was normal? Same flow, same duration?”

She nodded. “It felt normal, I mean, I think so. It felt like always,” her voice wavered slightly. “You think it’s something else?”

Tobias shook his head. “I don’t know yet. Could be you’re just sensitive to early changes, but… we need to test you. Blood is the only way to be sure this early.” 

He moved to the cabinet, pulling out a syringe, a vial, and supplies. “Roll your sleeve up.”

Cassandra rolled up her sleeve, watching how Tobias tied a tourniquet around her arm. His hands were steady, but his expression betrayed him. There was something he didn’t want to voice. 

“You are concerned,” she whispered, watching him swab her arm with alcohol. “Why?”

Tobias inserted the needle smoothly, watching as the vial quickly filled with blood. He didn’t respond to her question right away. Instead, he capped the vial, pressed a cotton ball against the puncture, and carefully covered it with a plaster decorated with bright cartoon cats.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Tobias only smirked, cutting off her comment. “Pediatrics, Cass. Kids love these.” She huffed a laugh, but it faded fast. 

“Tobias, why am I feeling this so early? What is wrong?”

He sighed, labeling the vial with a coded number, and leaned back against the desk. “I hate guessing like this,” he admitted. “Strong symptoms at nine to twelve days… It could mean a few things. Could be twins – higher hCG levels can hit harder, faster. Or…” He hesitated, swallowing other options he couldn't say out loud. His eyes met hers, heavy with concern. “It could mean your body’s reacting intensely. If that’s the case, this pregnancy might not be an easy one. Could be rough on you, physically.”

Her stomach twisted from his words. “Twins?” She asked. “You’re joking.”

“Not joking,” he shook his head. “It’s possible. Or it could be something else. We won’t know until the results.” He set the vial aside, gripping the desk’s edge. “I’ll take this to the lab. Results will be by tomorrow night.”

Cassandra nodded and pushed herself upright, but the movement sent a wave of dizziness through her. The room tilted for a heartbeat, and she caught the back of the chair to steady herself.

Tobias was beside her in an instant. “Easy,” he murmured, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“I’m fine,” Cassandra muttered, but Tobias didn’t buy into it. His eyes searched her face.

“You’re not fine,” he said, cutting through her deflection with calm certainty. “And I’m not letting you go home alone like this.”

“Tobias-”

“No,” he replied. Then picked up the labeled vial, turning it in his hand before setting it carefully in a small carrier box, and looked at her again.

“Cassandra, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. I’ll drop this at the lab, and then I’m walking you home.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes but didn’t resist this time.

She waited for him in the hall as Tobias dropped off her sample at the lab. Then they walked together toward her home, stopping a block away to avoid being seen.

“Here’s fine,” she said, stopping just before the next intersection.

Tobias turned to face her fully and drew her into a brief hug, brushing his lips gently over her temple as he whispered. “Eat something bland, drink water, and try to rest.”

“I’ll try,” she promised. He held her a moment longer before letting go.

“Tomorrow evening, at my flat, I’ll have the results.”

Cassandra nodded, wanting to say something more. To thank him, or to say that she was scared, but the words caught in her throat. So instead, she squeezed his hand before slipping away toward home.

Chapter Text

The day after the hospital visit was tough on Cassandra. All day her mind circled back to Tobias, to the test results she was waiting for. 

By dusk, she slipped out like usual, and made her way to Tobias’ place. The door was unlocked for her and she slipped inside. 

Tobias glanced at her from the kitchen, turning off a whistling kettle on the stove. She could tell from his expression – the results were already there.

The next moment, he stepped out to the corridor, crossing the small space, and pulled her into a quick hug, and Cassandra sank into him for a moment.

“Hey, you okay?” he whispered. 

She shook her head and pulled back, to unlace her shoes. “The results?” Cassandra asked, tilting her head towards the kitchen, where two plain envelopes sat on the table.

Tobias followed her gaze. "Yeah. Got them about an hour ago. Hormonal panel and hCG.” He stepped back to the kitchen. “You want tea first? Or… something to eat?” He asked, searching her face.

But Cassandra only shook her head again, stepping closer and crossing her arms over her chest as if to hold herself together. “No. Just… let’s do this.” 

For a long moment, her eyes were locked on the envelopes. Then, slowly, Cassandra reached for the first one, grazing paper with her fingertips, but then she froze, pulling her hand back. “I don’t think I can," she whispered. “Could you open them? Tobias, please.”

Tobias nodded and took the first envelope from her hand, slicing it open with the edge of a butter knife. 

"This one’s the hormone panel," he murmured, unfolding the paper. Cassandra watched him read it, with his brow furrowed in focus. 

"Everything’s in range," he said calmly, looking up. "All normal. Nothing concerning there."

Cassandra’s shoulders slumped slightly, as some thin thread of tension eased. Though it didn’t untangle the knot in her gut. There was still the other envelope.

Tobias picked up the second one. This time, his movements were slower. He slit it open, unfolded the paper, and scanned the single typed line of text and numbers.

His brow furrowed again, and then it deepened.

Cassandra’s heart skipped a beat. Could this look on him mean anything good at all?

"What is it?" She asked.

He didn’t answer immediately, just reread the number, and after that, his eyes met up with hers again. 

"Cass… it’s positive."

For a moment, the world tilted sideways. The words didn’t quite sink in. Was that it? Cassandra blinked once, then again. Positive. The word echoed in her mind, scattering every other thought. The one thing she had wanted so desperately was now real, and all those days of exhaustion and nausea hadn’t been stress after all?

"Positive," she repeated, still in disbelief. Tobias nodded, offering her the paper.

"But," he added, and now his face betrayed something closer to concern. "The hCG level isn’t where I expected it to be."

The smile that started to form on her lips left her face instantly. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Tobias exhaled, tapping the paper. "If you conceived this cycle – ten, thirteen days ago, your level should be somewhere around fifty, maybe four hundred. Cass… it’s over one hundred and forty thousand. That’s not consistent with a new implantation."

She stared at him, not blinking. The words did make sense, but not all of them at once. “But my period… it was normal, Tobias. Heavy, like always. How is this possible?”

Tobias rubbed his jaw, visibly working through it. "It could’ve been implantation bleeding, or some unrelated spotting, it’s rare but it happens. Or it’s just your body adjusting early on. And you were so focused on the next cycle, we didn’t think to question it,” he smiled now. “This explains why you’re feeling it so hard. You’ve been pregnant for weeks, Cassandra.”

“I’ve been pregnant this whole time?” She grinned dumbly, and a shaky laugh escaped her lips, as she pressed both hands to her stomach, feeling the knot in her gut loosen and melt into warmth.

Tobias smiled widened, and then, without a word, he swept her up into his arms, spinning her in the air. Cassandra made a small, startled sound against his shoulder, and buried her face in his neck, feeling tears form in the corners of her eyes.

Tobias set her back down carefully, then knelt in front of her, wrapping both arms around her middle, pressing his face against her stomach. 

“I didn’t think you’d… react like this,” she murmured after a long moment of silence, slipping her hand into his hair.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, still holding her close. “I love you, Cassandra. I’ve loved you for a long time. You think I don’t know what this means to you?”

Her throat tightened, and for a heartbeat, all she could do was stare down at him, still kneeling there like a fool, with his face pressed to her belly.

“Tobias,” she breathed, sinking down to the floor beside him. Cupped his face with her trembling hands, and whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

Tobias simply stared back at her with wide eyes. It wasn’t the first time she said it, and yet, the words seemed to hang fragile like glass. Cassandra’s hands stayed on his cheeks, her eyes shimmered again, waiting for his reaction.

He closed his eyes, opened them again. Rose his hands to her shoulders, then slid down her arms, intertwining his fingers with hers. 

His lips parted soundlessly, and then a small, incredulous laugh escaped him. “Say that again,” he murmured low, almost pleading.

Cassandra laughed, shaky, touching his forehead with hers. “I love you,” she whispered again. “I love you, Tobias.”

The words came easier this time, lighter, like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She pulled back just enough to look at him, and leaned in again, kissing him gently, lingering to seal the moment forever. 

They stayed on the floor for a while, just holding each other. 

Cassandra was the one to break the comfortable silence. She looked up at him, exhaled a long breath, and asked, almost hesitant.

“What do we do next? If I’m already this far along… what do we do now?”

Tobias' expression shifted back to his doctor’s focus. 

“We take care of you,” he murmured reassuringly, smoothing a hand along her shoulder. “You’re in the first trimester, so the symptoms are hitting you hard. You need rest, Cassandra, real rest, food and hydration.” His eyes herald hers, serious. “And we need an ob-gyn, not me as a pregnancy expert. You need an ultrasound to confirm placement, especially considering that bleeding you had.”

Cassandra stiffened, drawing back enough to frown at him. “No. No one else can know, Tobias. If this gets out, if my mother even suspects before-”

“Cass,” he interrupted her gently, reaching for her hand again. “I get it. But medical privacy is law in Piltover. Doctors here don’t share personal information. Even Councilors don’t get access to patient records without a court order. I know Dr. Jaasko, she was one of the professors on my course, we can trust her.”

She hesitated, gnawing on her lip. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if this leaks-”

“It won’t, I promise you.” Tobias’ thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“Okay.” Her voice was quieter now.

“Good, I’ll book an appointment.” He nodded and leaned back, thinking. 

“We’ll do it after hours, at her private clinic, not the hospital. No one will see you coming or going. I’ll make sure of it.”

Cassandra nodded. She trusted Tobias, but the idea of another person, even a doctor, knowing about the fact she was sneaking from her mother, one of the most influential people in the whole Piltover with something like this, felt like a crack in the armor she had built against her mother’s reach. 

“When?” she asked almost reluctantly.

“Tomorrow, if I can get through to her, or Thursday in the worst case. The sooner we get that ultrasound, the better. We need to know everything’s where it should be.”

—

Two days later, on a Thursday evening, Cassandra and Tobias stood outside Dr. Jaasko’s private clinic. Tobias had arranged the visit for after hours, when the clinic was closed to regular patients, just as he promised. 

He stood beside her now, his hand brushing hers in silent reassurance. “Ready?” 

Cassandra swallowed, pulling her jacket tighter against the evening chill, and nodded. “Let’s just do this,” she muttered, pushing the door open.

Inside, the clinic looked nice, lit by designer lamps in the reception area. Dr. Jaasko, a woman in her late fifties with warm hazel eyes and neatly pinned hair, was already waiting for them by the desk. She wore no sharp expression of judgment, only gave them a little smile, to show that their presence was expected and welcome.

“Good evening, Cassandra,” she greeted the young woman in a calm voice. “Tobias explained some of your history to me, and I’ve reviewed the lab work. But before we proceed, I want to hear from you. Come with me, please.”

Cassandra glanced at Tobias, who gave her a nod of reassurance. But as they reached the exam room, Jaasko lifted her brows at him.

“You can wait outside, Doctor Valekor. We’ll be just fine.”

Tobias hesitated, but at Cassandra’s faint gesture, he obeyed, watching the door close quietly in front of him.

The exam room was clean, filled with an ultrasound machine that sat ready beside the padded exam table, a few other machines Cassandra didn’t know the names for, a folding screen, a desk, and three plush chairs. 

Jaasko gestured Cassandra toward a chair first, gave her another reassuring smile and settled into the chair opposite her, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

“Before we do anything, I want to ask a few questions. You tell me only what you’re comfortable with, but it helps me take the best care of you.”

Cassandra smoothed her skirt as she sat, clasping hands in her lap. “All right.”

“Let’s start with some basics,” she began. “I know Tobias shared the date of your last period, but I’d like to hear it from you directly. When was the first day of your last menstrual cycle?”

Cassandra thought for a moment, then answered quietly. “It started on the twenty-third of last month.”

Jaasko nodded, writing something in the book. “And you mentioned it was a normal flow for you? Not unusually light or heavy?”

Cassandra frowned. “It felt normal,” she replied. “Maybe a bit shorter than usual, but not by much.”

Jaasko nodded. “Good. Any bleeding or spotting since then?”

“None,” Cassandra replied. “Not since then.”

“Any nausea, vomiting, dizziness, or lightheadedness?”

The young woman gave a small huff of amusement. “All of the above, actually,” she admitted. 

“That’s normal,” Doctor said with a faint smile. “Toxicosis tends to peak between six and nine weeks. We’ll check the gestational age on the scan to be sure.”

She paused, reading briefly through the notes Tobias had sent her. “You’ve had previous abdominal surgery, correct? A splenic injury and L3-L4 trauma?”

“Yes,” Cassandra confirmed quietly. “Almost two years ago. I was in the hospital for a while. Tobias was my attending back then.”

“Hmm,” Jaasko’s expression softened even more. “He was one of my best students. Bright, careful, too serious for his age.”

Cassandra’s lips quivered faintly. “Still is.”

That drew a soft laugh from the older woman before she folded her hands over her knee and studied Cassandra with quiet care.

“Cassandra,” she said slowly, “I need to ask you something important. I ask this of every patient in your position, so please don’t take it the wrong way.”

Cassandra blinked, unsure where this was going. “Alright.”

“Are you safe?” Jaasko asked with genuine concern. “Is this pregnancy something you want? No one’s pressuring you, or making this choice for you?”

For a moment, Cassandra just stared at her, startled. “Yes, of course,” she said quickly. “I mean, yes. Why would- You thought Tobias might’ve-?”

“Oh, no,” Jaasko interrupted quickly, chuckling under her breath. “Not at all. I’ve known Tobias since he was a student. He’s a good person, but still, it’s something I always ask, no matter who the father is. I’ve seen too much to ever assume.”

“Oh. That’s fair actually,” she said quietly, thinking of her own mother. 

Jaasko smiled again, standing to prepare the ultrasound. “Let’s have a look now, shall we?

Cassandra stood up, following Dr. Jaasko’s movement with her eyes as the older woman crossed to the machine beside the exam table.

“Go ahead and lie back,” Jaasko said gently, pulling the probe from its stand to prepare it.

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, watching the doctor holding a long instrument in her hand. Her breath caught slightly. She hadn’t expected that.

But Jaasko noticed the tension in the air immediately.  

“It looks more intimidating than it is,” she said in that calm, grounded tone. 

“I know it might look scary, dear. But at this stage of pregnancy, before twelve weeks, we use a transvaginal ultrasound. It gives us a much clearer view than abdominal scans. I’ll show you exactly what that means before we start.” She pulled a now covered probe up where Cassandra could see. 

“This is the transducer. It’s no wider than two fingers, see? I placed a single-use cover and gel on it so it slides comfortably. It won’t hurt, but it may feel a little strange or uncomfortable. I’ll guide you through every step, and if at any point you want me to stop, you can say so, and I will stop immediately. Is that okay?”

Cassandra nodded. 

“Alright. Go ahead and undress from the waist down. There’s a sheet for you. Take your time. I’ll step out for a moment.”

When she returned, Cassandra was already on the exam table, with a sheet pulled over her thighs. Her hands were tightly clasped over her stomach..

“Alright, dear. Let’s start. Take a deep breath,” Jaasko murmured as she adjusted the machine. “Just like that. Ready?”

“Yes,” Cassandra breathed.

Jaasko moved professionally, but Cassamdra flinched anyway.

She tried to stare at the ceiling at first, counting her breaths, trying to focus on anything but the cool air against her legs or that thing between them. But then Jaasko angled the wand slightly, and something flickered on the monitor.

“Ah,” Doctor murmured under her breath, smiling faintly. “There we are.”

Cassandra’s head turned instinctively toward the screen, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Amid the dark oval on the screen was a small form of light.

“And this little thing there,” Jaasko turned the screen to Cassandra, and pointed to the form, “is a fetus, placed in the uterus.” She pressed a button, and a rapid, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat filled the room.

Cassandra froze, with her eyes still locked on the screen. “Is everything okay?” she asked in a trembling voice.

“Yes, dear. Everything looks normal. Let’s see how far along we are, hm?” She clicked a few buttons, taking measurements. 

“Size measures exactly eight weeks and four days, consistent with your hCG levels.  The fetus is developing normally, no signs of complications from the bleeding you had. Implantation bleeding is more common than you think, so nothing concerning here.” she announced, giving Cassandra a reassuring smile when she finished with calculations. 

“Do you want to know the date of conception?”

“Yes,” Cassandra blinked, “is this possible?”

“Of course, dear. Given how advanced Piltover’s technology is, it’s possible to determine the exact date of conception down to a few hours.” She turned slightly, studying numbers on the screen. “Which would make it… let’s see… ah, the sixth of April.”

Cassandra froze. April sixth. Oh, Janna. She could already see Tobias’ reaction when he did the math, as the doctor’s voice cut through her thought.

“Here’s your first picture. It will be in a folder with other papers I’ll give you in a minute." Jaasko said, showing her a small print, and then withdrawing the probe carefully. “I’ll give you a moment to clean up.” She handed Cassandra a few paper tissues with a practiced gesture.

“Thank you,” Cassandra murmured.

When she emerged a few minutes later, dressed again, Dr. Jaasko was waiting by the desk.

“Everything looks good,” the doctor said, slipping papers into a slim clear folder. “Here are your recommendations, nutrition guide, things to watch for. And this-” she tapped to the picture. 

“You’re in good shape, dear, but you need to take it easy. Remember to stay hydrated, avoid triggers if possible. And I’ll see you on a twelve week checkup, sooner if you have pain or bleeding”

Cassandra nodded, tucking the folder under her arm. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Jaasko smiled, holding her gaze. “You’re very welcome. And Cassandra? This stays with me, as promised.”

Cassandra nodded, thanked her again, and left the exam room. 

She found Tobias waiting in the reception area, his eyes already searching hers. 

“Well?” he asked with anticipation.

Cassandra just gave him a look. One of those unreadable, teasing, infuriating expressions that Tobias had known long enough to recognize meant she was keeping something.

“I’ll tell you outside,” she murmured, brushing past him toward the front door.

Tobias blinked. “What? Cass, wait-”

But she was already pushing the door open and stepping out into the evening air. 

He followed her down the front steps. “Cass,” he tried again, catching up, “what did she say? You’re okay, right? Is everything alright?”

And then, to his complete confusion, Cassandra burst out laughing.

Not polite, but the kind of helpless, slightly unhinged laugh that tumbled out of her chest like it couldn’t be helped. She doubled over a little, bracing her hands on her thighs, laughing harder as Tobias stared at her.

“Cass?” he demanded, wary now but a little relieved to see her laughing. “What the hell happened?”

Cassandra straightened, swiping a hand across her eyes, still grinning. “It’s fine,” she managed between laughs. “It’s all fine. One fetus, heartbeat, everything exactly where it should be.”

Tobias let out a breath, some tight coil of worry loosening inside him. “Thank the gods. Then what’s so funny?”

Cassandra grinned wider, holding up the folder Jaasko gave her. “She measured gestational age,” she said, pointing to the print. “Eight weeks, four days.”

“And?” Tobias frowned, “That’s measured from your last period. From your actual last period.”

“Yes,” she breathed, “but she also told me the date of conception. April sixth, Tobias. April sixth!” 

The furrow in his brow deepened as he worked through his memory, and then his eyes went wide. 

“No,” he uttered.

“Yes,” she replied, delighted now, breathless from laughing. “Guess what happened the day before that, Doctor Valekor?” 

His mouth opened and shut again. “The hospital,” she crowed, giggling like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “The damned supply closet, Tobias. That was it.”

He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his mouth, laughing and horrified at the same time. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not,” she snorted, covering her mouth. “I swear, if our child isn’t born reckless as hell, I’ll be shocked.”

Tobias tipped his head back toward the sky and laughed, a real, disbelieving kind of sound. “Of course. Only you would manage to pull that off in the middle of a damn night shift.”

“I aim to exceed expectations,” she smirked, but then hesitated, looking at the folder in her hands.

“I can’t take it home,” she said quietly now. “Will you take it? Cassandra looked up at him.

“Of course, I will,” he sobered a little then, taking it from her hands.

“It’s a good news, Tobias. It’s a really good news.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, giving her a kiss. “It is.”

They stood there a moment longer in the quiet street, and for Cassandra, it was the first time in weeks, when it didn’t feel like the city was closing in on her. 

“Walk me home?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah, let’s get you home,” Tobias murmured, guiding her by the hand. 

Chapter Text

The next couple of weeks weren’t easy. Cassandra had split herself in two: the version of herself that Cecelia expected to see, and the one who was living the reality of the first trimester.

The former was polished and dutiful. She attended Council meetings with her mother, entertained two new suitors in these weeks. Smiled when expected, spoke when needed, right as a well-behaved daughter of a noble house must.

The other version of Cassandra existed in the moments no one else was allowed to see. Behind the heavy doors of her chambers. That Cassandra was exhausted. The nausea was worse than ever. Each new day brought a new thing that made her gag: the smell of damp wool, eggs, the particular smell of certain kinds of cheese. Even the mint tea Tobias gave her would upset her stomach. And some mornings she could barely keep down water.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep hiding from her mother, but despite everything, tried to convince herself she would feel better soon. After all, Piltover wouldn’t slow for her, and work couldn’t wait.

The ventilation project finally resumed. It was a hard won victory. After weeks of permits delayed and supplies mysteriously redirected, the first shipments of equipment finally made it through. Those responsible for delays had no excuse to stall it further, not after Cassandra threatened to drag the matter into public.

Now, construction crews were breaking the ground at the border between Piltover and the Undercity. Which meant Cassandra had to be there herself, no matter what.

Three times a week, she visited the construction site in Zaun, where the air was thick with the sting of the Grey. It clung to her skin and clothes, leaving a slight metallic taste at the back of her throat even through the mask.

Cassandra knew the risks. The Undercity’s air was toxic, and her body was already stretched thin. If Tobias knew, if he even suspected she was making those trips, he would lose his mind, and rightly so. It was a good thing he didn’t. She hated keeping it from him, but she couldn't stop either.

On one of those visits, after walking the length of the site to oversee the installation of a primary air filtration junction, Cassandra felt it hit her all at once. The heat, the metal dust and oil flying in the air, it spun around her like a whirlwind. She staggered, gripping on a vent pipe with one hand. 

Damn it.

Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut, willing the dizziness to pass. She couldn’t afford to collapse, not here, not when she had a job to do.

The mask over her mouth felt suffocating, she slipped it down with a trembling hand, taking a breath of slightly cooler air. Even if it wasn’t clean, it was enough to help her center herself.

A concerned voice cut through the thick air. “Are you alright?”

Cassandra blinked up to find a young woman with purple braid watching her, early twenties maybe, with her face smudged by dust but. She was one of the site workers, Cassandra could tell by her overalls. There was something bright in her face, despite the grime and exhaustion she clearly wore too.

“I’m fine,” Cassandra muttered, pulling her mask back up as she straightened. The girl gave her a knowing smile, Cassandra rarely encountered there. 

“How far along?”

She froze, feeling her pulse spike. “I’m sorry, what?”

The young woman held up her hands defendingly. “It’s alright. First trimester, right?” she grinned a little, like sharing a secret. “I can tell. I’m about fourteen weeks myself. It’s the way you’re holding yourself. And the way you went pale just now. I… just recognized that’s all. It's the dizziness, isn’t it?”

Cassandra stared at her, too startled to summon a reply. The world had narrowed to the weight of those words. Another person who knew, who saw her.

“I’m sorry,” the girl added quickly, sensing the shock. “Didn’t mean to- ahh, it’s just… You’re doing good work. This ventilation… It means a lot for us. For the kids being born down here. It’s crucial.”

Cassandra’s throat tightened. She didn’t have the words for it. Didn’t know how to explain how rare it was for some Zaunite to look at her and speak like that.

“What’s your name?” Cassandra managed.

“Felicia,” the girl replied, wiping her hand on her trousers before offering it.

Cassandra shook it. “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Felicia interrupted, with a touch of amusement in her voice. “The whole sector does. We don’t forget that kind of things.”

Cassandra felt something loosen in her chest, as the two of them stood there, just looking at each other in the muted sunlight, filtered through the smog.

“Take it easy, yeah? You’ll be alright,” Felicia gave her a small wave before returning to her work, leaving Cassandra alone with her thoughts.

—-

Later that day she sat in the estate library with a report from constructors in her lap. She meant to read it but the letters swam, one word blurred into another, and slowly, her eyelids drooped shut. Cassandra’s head tipped back against the armchair cushion. 

The next thing she knew was a gentle touch that startled her awake. Cassandra flinched, blinking up right into her mother’s face. 

Cecelia stood over her, she looked concerned, but not in the usual way. 

“You’ve been running yourself to exhaustion,” her mother said quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Cassandra’s face. “When someone is eager to prove themselves, they often forget that hard work isn’t just sweat, it’s rest, too.” Cecelia’s tone was unexpectedly gentle. 

Cassandra pushed herself upright, feeling her heart pick up its pace. She fumbled to find the report folder. “I wasn’t-  I just- ”

“I know exactly what you’ve been doing,” Cecelia interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with a moment of weakness. We don’t want you to burn out, right?” She asked. “Especially not with so much at stake. The ventilation, and the choice you have to make. You should take a couple of days off, Cassandra.”

Cassandra blinked. “What?”

“Off,” Cecelia said simply. “Rest. If you’ve learned to work, you need to learn to recover, too. This house can manage without you for a few days.”

Cassandra’s throat tightened. It certainly wasn’t kindness, couldn’t be. It was suspicion, creeping at the edges. Her mother rarely granted reprieve without reason. It was dangerous.

“But-” Cassandra forced out.

Cecelia’s gaze was still fixed on her. “Everyone needs rest, darling. Don’t wait until you collapse.” She let her hand fall away, smoothing the wrinkles off her trousers. “Take the time. That’s an order.” And with that, she left.

If her mother insisted on rest, Cassandra would take the opportunity, she was simply too wrung out to refuse.

Her body felt heavier than it was before she fell asleep. As she made her way back to her chambers, she barely managed to kick off her shoes and sink onto the bed as sleep found her again.

The next time she opened her eyes, her maid Elza tapped softly on her shoulder, informing her that Cecelia was waiting for her in the dining room.

—

Dinner was lamb. Heavy spiced and slow roasted, basted with a thick sauce that clung to the air like perfume. The moment the lid was lifted from the silver platter, something twisted in Cassandra’s stomach. Her throat tightened.

“Try it while it’s hot,” her mother said in a pleasant voice. “The new cook made some new seasoning blend.”

Cassandra had no other choice and forced herself to pick up the knife. She managed a single slice. The smell hit her again, rich and greasy. The taste was even worse. Her throat closed.

She swallowed hard, trying to breathe through her nose, as her fingers curled around the glass until they went white.

“Are you alright?” Cecelia asked quietly, too quietly for her usual tone. “Cassandra?” 

“I’m fine,” Cassandra breathed hoarsely.

Her stomach lurched again. 

The chair scraped on the marble floor as she stood, hand flying to her mouth. “Excuse me,” she choked, and bolted toward the exit.

Cassandra didn’t make it far. Barely made it to an urn in the corner of the hall before she bent double and retched into it. She leaned her forehead against the wall afterward, still dizzy and shaking, trying to will her legs to hold steady.

Cecelia appeared soundlessly at the end of the hall. She didn’t speak, didn’t yell, simply looked at her daughter, looked at the vase, and looked back again. 

“That,” the matriarch’s voice wasn’t sharp like usual, “did not look like ‘fine’.”

Cassandra wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, forcing herself upright, straightening as much as she could manage. Then swallowed hard, stretching seconds to form any plausible excuse that wouldn’t unravel everything she was barely holding together. 

“It’s nothing,” she rasped. “I ate something in the Undercity earlier, must be it. I knew it was stupid, but my transfer was late and I was hungry.”

Cecelia’s brow lifted, a flicker of faint distaste crossed her face. “You ate street food in Zaun?” The words dripped with disdain.

Cassandra nodded, quickly, leaning into it. “I didn’t think it would lead to this.” She coughed lightly into her hand for effect. “It’s not serious. I’ll be fine by morning.”

The matriarch stared at her daughter for a long moment. 

Cassandra could feel the weight of it like a cold hand at the base of her neck, the careful calculation happening behind those piercing blue eyes. 

“Next time, I believe, you’ll have the sense not to poison yourself,” Cecelia said at last, with disapproval clear in her voice. “And if you’re sick, stay in your rooms. I don’t need you swooning at my dinner table.”

“Yes, Mother,” Cassandra murmured, lowering her gaze.

Cecelia gave a last, narrow look at the urn, then turned away. “I’ll ask the kitchen to send up broth,” she called back over her shoulder, and disappeared down the corridor.

Cassandra waited until she was gone before pressing both palms to her face. That had been close, too close. She pushed herself off the wall, and made her way back toward her chambers.

As soon as the heavy doors closed behind her, she drew a shaky breath, sliding down to the floor. 

First, a stranger had seen through her facade, and now this? She was sure her mother was going to find out, sooner than she was ready. One more misstep and the house physician would be summoned. Blood would be drawn, and it all would be over.

She placed a palm to her chest, feeling her rapid heartbeat. She needed to calm down and think.

But suddenly, the walls felt too close now, her breath came in shallow gasps. Did Mother already know? Was the gentleness a trap? Cassandra’s vision blurred, she pressed her palm harder, willing her heart to slow, as her other hand moved to her stomach. 

But her brain didn’t want to stop the storm.

Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut. She had known from the start, that this pregnancy was reckless, knew the risks of defying her mother and her duty. And now the reality of what she had done fully downed on her.

What would Cecelia do to her when she knew? 

Maybe she already knew. Maybe she was just waiting. That awful calm, it was not the way her mother usually acted. Or was it calculation? Her stomach twisted. You’re being paranoid. But another voice inside her whispered back, or maybe you’re finally seeing her clearly.

She dragged in another breath through her nose, slow and shaky.

Once Cecelia knew… Once her mother knew, she would swiftly dismantle a person’s life without even raising her voice. Tobias. He would be fired from the hospital, his license would be suspended, the scandal would follow. But only this time, she wouldn’t be able to save him.

Her fingers curled into the fabric over her stomach. No. She couldn’t let that happen. Tobias had given her more than she had ever dared to ask for. His love, his kindness, his willingness to be part of her ridiculous plan. If Cecelia destroyed him, Cassandra would never forgive herself.

She forced herself to look up, focusing on the ceiling, as tears started to stream silently from her eyes.

And what if biology was cruel enough for the child to be a boy?

The thought made her stomach churn with a new force. 

Cassandra inhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders back. Fear was dangerous, but paralysis was worse. She had to think, to keep herself composed.

A son would be loved no matter what, but boys didn’t inherit, not in House Kiramman. A son would mean nothing in her mother’s eyes, and so, Cecelia would make sure that boy would be sent to a boarding school as soon as he reached the age. 

If the child was a boy, her problem wouldn’t be solved, and she would still be without a legitimate heir, and her mother would force her into another cycle of suitors and marriage contracts.

Unless… unless Tobias was her husband.

And what Cecelia could say to that? 

The realization cut through the panic. Half the problem would be solved right there. If the child was a boy, fine, they would try again. But it would be with him. No more men paraded before her, no more secret meetings, no more pretending she didn’t already know exactly whose hands she wanted on her body.

It was logical, practical even. But the thought of asking him terrified her. Because she had already asked for too much.

First, she asked him for a child. Now, to ask him for marriage? To ask him to carry the weight of her name, her mother’s expectations, and the scrutiny of Piltover’s entire ruling class? It was more than a proposal, it was a chain. It was unfair to him.

She knew Tobias loved her. Of that, at least, she was certain. But love wasn’t always enough. It didn’t guarantee he would say yes, didn’t guarantee he would want the world that came with her. It was too much to ask of anyone.

And yet, Cassandra could no longer imagine a life where he wasn’t in it. Where this child didn’t have him, where she didn’t have him. 

She didn’t want to trap him. But the longer she thought about it, the clearer it became.

It wasn't just about the escape from her mother’s grasp. It was about wanting him. Not just as a solution to a problem or a shield against Cecelia’s ambitions. She wanted Tobias as her partner. 

Cassandra drew in a slow breath, leaning back against the door closing her eyes. 

Tomorrow.

She would ask him tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The estate was silent at dawn. Cassandra moved through the halls of the third floor like a shadow. If she was going to ask Tobias, she needed to do it properly. A Kiramman did not propose without a ring.

She moved silently toward the room two floors above the library, where rings were kept on dark oak shelves in glass cabinets.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, eyeing the shelves for a moment before crossing to the cabinet where the rings were kept in slim velvet boxes, arranged in meticulous rows. Her fingertips brushed over the tops of a collection her mother had commissioned years ago, designed specifically for the faceless, future husband Cecelia intended to force into Cassandra’s life. Heavy bands of platinum and gold, adorned with various stones. Expensive and ostentatious as a blunt symbol of ownership, demanding loyalty, obedience, and the Kiramman name above all else.

Cassandra swallowed hard. It should have felt like defeat to reach for one of Cecelia’s chosen pieces. A quiet surrender to the tradition of the House. But if she wanted to live the life she wanted, then she would take their tools and turn them to her own ends.

Her fingers stopped over a simple band of platinum. The ring was understated compared to the others, but still marked with the Kiramman Crest, engraved on the inside. It wasn’t the boldest one, and certainly wasn’t the most valuable, but it would suit him.

Cassandra snapped the box shut, slipped it into her pocket, and left the room.

By noon, Cecelia appeared at Cassandra’s door, informing her she was leaving for the Councilor Ajnar’s reception, and that she wouldn’t return until next evening. It was the only invitation Cassandra needed. She packed a small bag and left the estate four hours later. Tobias wouldn’t be home yet, he was on shift until 8 p.m., but it didn’t matter. Waiting at his place would be better.

Cassandra took a longer route, enjoying the warmth of spring sun breaking through the clouds. It was still early evening when she reached the flat. She let herself in with a spare key hidden under a plant pot near the door. Tobias had told her months ago, when they still were just friends, that she could come to his place whenever she needed, whether he was home or not. 

Cassandra slipped off her shoes and dropped her bag near the couch. Then, with a quiet sigh, sank into the plush cushions, flipping the velvet box in her hands, and waited. The calm that usually filled his apartment should have eased her nerves, but it didn’t.

It was 20:19 on the wall clock when the door opened with a soft click. Tobias stepped in, muttering something to himself, and then froze mid step when he noticed her presence.

“Cassandra?”

She rose slowly from the couch, hiding the tiny box behind her back. 

“I let myself in,” she said simply.

“I see that,” he replied carefully, scanning her with his eyes, already cataloging everything unspoken. “Just wasn’t expecting you tonight. Are you alright? Did something happen?”

She nodded, smiling faintly. “I’m fine. Mother’s left for some party and she won't be home until tomorrow evening. So, I thought we could have this night to ourselves.”

Tobias' expression softened, he kicked off his shoes and crossed the space toward her. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, spreading his arms to pull her in a hug. But Cassandra took a step back. Tobias gave her a questioning glance.

“There’s actually something I want to ask you first,” she glanced sideways, then back at him. 

“Go on.” Tobias tensed.

“I’ve been thinking… about us,” Cassandra forced herself to find her voice. “About what you mean to me… I want to marry you, Tobias,” she uttered straight away, looking right into his warm eyes. 

Tobias’ mouth opened, but she stopped him before he could say a word.

“But before you say anything, I want you to understand what that would mean. I understand what I’m asking of you… and I won’t blame you if you say no,” she let her glance down for a moment, afraid of his reaction, and went on. 

“If you agree to this, there’s no turning back. You’ll have to marry into the Kiramman legacy. And that means you'll be expected to live at the estate, sit through formalities, and tolerate the kind of company you would hate. You’ll lose your privacy, the nobility will call you a fortune hunter, and they don’t make room for soft men. Every word you speak, every step you take, will be watched. And,” she added quietly, “you'll be bound to me.” 

Then Cassandra moved her hands from behind her back, opening the box in front of him. 

Tobias glanced down at her hands, at the ring, then back at her face, but didn’t reach for the band. The quiet stretched, long enough for the panic to claw its way up the back of Cassandra’s throat. 

Then he exhaled slowly, and a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.” Tobias stepped closer, brushing a thumb against her cheek. 

Cassandra met his eyes again, and let out a shaky breath, feeling how tears started forming in the corners of her eyes. Tobias studied her face with that kind of gaze that made her feel bare, stripped of every edge or mask. His hand dropped, and for a heartbeat she thought he might turn away.

But instead, he reached out to the box, took the ring from it with careful fingers, turned the ring over, studying it, and then, put it on his ring finger.

“I don’t want to force you into this,” Cassandra whispered, watching him

Tobias only let out a chuckle “Cass,” he murmured. “I’m already trapped, been for a long time actually. And I don’t want anything else. I love you, Cassandra Kiramman, and I’m saying yes.”

—

Cassandra returned to the estate just as the sky began turning to a brighter shade of blue from the pink of the early morning. She didn’t bother sneaking in this time. The guards opened the gate at her approach, as though they hadn’t marked the hour of her return. The great front doors swung open before her, and she crossed the entry with her chin high. 

She was halfway up the main staircase when a servant appeared at the landing. 

“Lady Cassandra, Lady Cecelia is expecting you in her sitting room,” the man informed her without any emotion.

Cassandra’s stomach sank. 

This wasn’t supposed to end like this. Her mother wasn’t supposed to return until evening, and yet somehow, she had arrived ahead of any expectation, ahead of Cassandra’s plans. And there was nothing she could do now, except to face her and give her the truth. 

She made her way down the corridor, pausing at the door, took a moment bracing herself, and stepped inside.

Cecelia was clearly waiting for her. She sat, as always, poised in her seat like it was a throne, two fingers curled around a steaming teacup. She didn’t offer a greeting.

“Sit down” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“I would rather stand.” Cassandra didn’t. There was no possibility in which this conversation could go well.

A flicker of something, irritation, or perhaps even anger, moved across Cecelia’s face. She set the cup down with precise care. The faint chime of porcelain against porcelain echoed far louder than it should have been in the perfectly still room.

“I see,” the matriarch said in a cold voice. “I had hoped you’d come to your senses, Cassandra. But it seems you intend to exhaust my patience again. I assume you enjoyed your little disappearance? Wherever you spent the night, it certainly wasn’t in your rooms.”

Cassandra said nothing. There was no lie she could tell now that Cecelia wouldn’t see through. Her mother’s gaze on her was sharper than any blade. 

“This ends here, Cassandra. You’ve had enough time to yourself. This charade has gone on long enough. I’ve been patient, too patient. You’ve refused every suitable match, and now, should I leave for a night, you return home when the sun has already risen.” Cecelia continued, “if you are unable to make this choice yourself, I will announce your engagement by the end of this week. We can’t play this game any longer.”

“I made my choice, Mother.” Cassandra stated, holding her gaze. 

And for the first time in the conversation, Cecelia’s composure shifted. “Oh?” she let out, leaning back against the chair with dangerous calm. “And which son of Piltover’s great families has finally deigned to meet your impossible standards?”

“I have proposed to Tobias Valekor.”

The silence shattered. A sharp intake of a breath and then Cecelia’s palm met her daughter’s cheek with a crack that echoed off the walls. The force of it staggered Cassandra sideways. Her vision swam, she stumbled backwards, tripped over the edge of the rug, and dropped to her knees on the polished floor, with one hand instinctively flying to her lower abdomen, the other to her cheek.

That motion, that single, unconscious gesture, more than the words, made Cecelia freeze. No. No, it couldn’t be-

“What have you done?!”

Cassandra didn’t answer, just remained there, kneeling, staring back at her with eyes full of fear.

“How far?” Cecelia demanded. Her voice was low and lethal now. “How far along are you?”

Cassandra raised her head slowly. “Ten weeks.” She didn’t deny it.

Something in Cecelia snapped further.

“You, little viper!” The older woman lunged, grabbing Cassandra by her ear like she was a child again. Cassandra gasped, digging her fingers into her mother’s sleeve as Cecelia dragged her upright.

“You lied to me! You whored around behind my back all this time. I welcomed Grayson into this house letting you entertain her. But this?” She jerked Cassandra’s head, venom sharp in every word. “You think that boy from Ionia is going to survive what comes next? You think marrying beneath your station will give you freedom?” Cassandra winced. 

“You are a Kiramman! And now you’ve damned your child before it’s even born.” Then, just as suddenly, Cecelia dropped her. Cassandra crumpled to the floor again, panting, hair falling all over her face.

The matriarch stormed from the room, slamming the doors violently behind her.

Cassandra sat there for a long time, with a hand still over her belly, trying to breathe through the tight knot in her chest. I’ve done what I needed to do. She said to herself. The child growing inside her was no mistake and neither was Tobias. Now they just had to survive the war. 

When she finally made it to her chambers, her body felt sore and distant. The first battle was over, but Cassandra didn’t feel like she had won anything, not yet.

She curled up on a bed with knees drawn to her chest, letting hot tears that she hadn’t meant to cry slip quietly into the pillow. All she could do now was to wait for her mother’s next act, and this time she wouldn’t let Cecelia take anything from her. Never again.

—

Cassandra woke with a start.

Late afternoon sun picked through partially drawn curtains when the door creaked open. At first, she thought it might be a maid, come to check on her. But the footfall had a different pattern. And when she turned her head, her mother was standing at the foot of her bed like a statue.

Cassandra sat up slowly. A blanket, one of her maids must have covered her with, slid down her shoulders. Her stomach felt tight now, and her cheek still held the dull echo of a bruise.

“I paid a visit to our family physician this morning,” Cecelia stated. Her voice was cold, even, but not as furious as before. “Asked for every possible method of… remedying your mistake.”

Cassandra’s throat tightened. She sat a little straighter, but said nothing.

Cecelia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Even the more subtle approaches… something you wouldn’t notice until it was over.” Cassandra didn’t show it, but she could feel her heart begin to drum a little harder in her chest.

“But unfortunately for me,” her mother exhaled, “you’re ten weeks. And apparently, you’ve already gone to a doctor for care.” she mocked the word. Then stepped forward, slowly, until she was near the side of the bed. Cassandra didn’t look away.

“Our family physician reminded me that Piltover’s medical code forbids interfering without your consent, and also informed me that interfering might be too dangerous once this reaches a certain threshold.”

A pause.

“Would you have done it? Drugged me?” Cassandra whispered. She had feared her mother might say so, but hearing it now, was a different thing.

Cecelia’s jaw twitched. “If it had been possible,” she said quietly, after briefly looking away from her daughter. “I would have considered it.”

“What, really?!” Cassandra’s breath caught. "You wanted an heir, didn't you?" She clenched the blanket with both hands, forcing her face to remain still. So that was it, she was right to hide it from her mother.

The matriarch didn’t answer right away. She lowered herself onto a chair beside the bed, studying her daughter. The red mark on Cassandra’s cheek was more serious than Cecelia thought it would be. Her eyes flicked downward, and for a fleeting second, before she spoke again, there was a hint of guilt in them. 

“You’ve always been a difficult child. But not unmanageable. Not until now.”

“I didn’t do this to spite you,” Cassandra replied. “I did it because it’s mine. My life is mine.” She turned to look out the window, steadying herself, watching how three leaves were dancing in the wind, brushing over the window glass.

“Your life?” Cecelia echoed. “You think this will give you freedom? You think your Ionian boy can protect you from what comes next? You’ve trapped yourself, Cassandra, you’re forcing this family into accepting a man with no title, no holdings, no influence in Piltover, only a name from Ionia and a pair of steady hands.”

“You wanted me to make a choice? I chose him,” Cassandra declared, looking back at her. “And I chose our child.”

Cecelia was silent for a long moment. 

"You are a fool, Cassandra," she said with a shaky laugh escaping her throat. "You’re too young to understand that your childish rebellion has consequences. You think this is about me? About control? You think I’m a monster. But all I did was protect you, you stupid girl. You think your defiance makes you strong, but all it does – it makes you blind. Time will come, Cassandra. You'll understand it yourself, but only it will be too late to turn back.”

Cassandra's throat tightened painfully. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the late afternoon shadows creeped further into the room. Finally, Cecelia rose, smoothing the wrinkles from her trousers. She regarded Cassandra with a one last look that was not quite hate and not quite pity, but some terrible, exhausted middle ground.

“Now rest. I am expecting you to attend dinner tonight.” Without waiting for a response, Cecelia turned and left, the door clicked shut behind her.

Chapter Text

Tobias approached the front desk to report his post surgery status when a nurse intercepted him. She extended a cream envelope with a wary glance. The wax seal stamped with the unmistakable Kiramman Crest made his stomach twist before he even touched it.

“Urgent,” she said flatly. “From House Kiramman.”

His pulse quickened as he snapped the seal open.

Dr. Valekor,
Cassandra is hurt. She requires your immediate attention. Come to the estate without delay.
– Cecelia Kiramman

His stomach dropped. Without wasting a breath, Tobias spun on his heel and bolted down the corridor toward the chief’s office. 

“Cover my shift, please,” he called from the threshold, with urgency raw in his voice. “Family matter.”

Chief Pediatrics looked up from their notes, took one glance at Tobias' ashen face, and simply nodded. 

“Go.” 

They didn’t ask questions. No one had ever seen Tobias Valekor like this before.

Within minutes, Tobias was in the back of a carriage, still wearing his purple scrubs. He didn’t care, there hadn’t been time to change, there wasn’t time for anything.

He gripped the door handle ready to jump out, as the carriage rattled through Piltover’s streets, while his mind churned through every possibility, each worse than the other. Cassandra, damn it, Cassie. What happened? Why hadn’t she sent for him herself?

His thoughts turned frantic: Cassandra on the floor, blood, pain, something with the baby, had she fainted? Fallen? Ten weeks, he thought. Too early for stability, anything could happen-

The carriage barely came to a full stop before Tobias threw open the door and leapt out onto estate ground. He didn’t bother with the wide front steps taking two at a time. A servant was already waiting for him at the door with a blank expression. 

“Lady Cecelia is expecting you in her study,” the servant intoned. “Please, let me escort you.”

No mention of Cassandra, no signs of alarm. That alone made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. This could only mean Cassandra wasn’t the reason why he was summoned so urgently, or at least she wasn’t hurt. 

He followed in silence until they stopped before the heavy doors of the study and one door side was pulled open without announcing him.

Cecelia was standing there, with her back to him. Composed as always, holding a glass of wine in one hand.

“Dr Kiramman,” the matriarch greeted him smoothly, accenting the last name. “How good of you to come so quickly,” she turned slowly to face him.

“Where is Cassandra?” he demanded, already catching the scent of a lie.

“My daughter in her chambers,” Cecelia said coolly. “Resting.”

“You said she was hurt.”

Cecelia tilted her head, almost amused. “Yes. And she is. But not in the way you assumed. I summoned you,” she smiled almost viciously. “You came. That’s all that matters right now.”

Tobias took a steadying breath, trying to push down the surge of fury rising in his chest. “Why?”

The matriarch carefully placed the glass onto her desk and took a step forward.

“You and I have matters to discuss, Tobias Valekor. Sit.”

“I’ll stand.” 

A flicker of curiosity passed through her expression before it hardened again.

“I had the pleasure of speaking with my daughter this morning.” She stepped closer. “Imagine my surprise to learn she’s carrying a child, and it’s yours.” Cecelia let the words linger, then added, “I know you’ve been seeing her in secret for months, that you’ve laid hands on her body, and put your seed in her. I know everything!”

Tobias' hands clenched at his sides, his stomach twisted against the venom in her words, but he kept his expression even. He had expected this, maybe not the summoning, but this fury? It had been inevitable, Cassandra had warned him.

“Then you know we intend to marry.”

The matriarch gave him another sharp smile, like a predator cornering its prey. “Oh, I know. She told me about her little rebellion. I don’t care that she loves you. Love is a distraction, a liability. And you’ve made yourself a problem. You are nothing, Doctor. No title, no legacy, just a pair of steady hands and evidently,” she glanced down briefly, “working parts my daughter found useful enough to serve her purpose. Do you really think that qualifies you for this family? You have no idea what it means to carry a name like ours. What it means to raise a Kiramman.”

Tobias forced his voice to stay steady. “I am aware you are not fond of me, but you must know this wasn’t a whim. Cassandra chose me, I said yes. And I would’ve done the same again.”

Cecelia crossed what little was left of the space between them, stopping so close he could feel her breath on his skin. 

“You should know, Doctor. The only reason you even stand here is because it’s ten weeks and is too late for certain remedies. Had she come to me sooner neither you nor your child would be a problem I’d be forced to manage.” Her eyes narrowed, voice dropped to a cruel murmur. 

“So listen to me very carefully now. I will let you stay. For now, for her. But If you ever try to humiliate this house,” Cecelia gaze was scorching into him, “if you make Cassandra weaker for loving you, I will take it all away, quietly. You’ll wake one morning to find every door in Piltover closed for you, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.” Then Cecelia drew back, smoothing her sleeve with precise fingers.

“Cassandra is in her rooms,” she added, softer. “Go to her now, and I expect both of you at my table tonight.”

Without waiting for his reply, Cecelia turned on her heel and left the room, informing the servant to escort him. Tobias let out a long, shaking breath and moved towards the hall. 

When they reached the door to Cassandra’s chambers, the man bowed shallowly and left without a word.

Tobias knocked politely, and when no one answered, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The outer sitting room was empty. The curtains had been drawn, no lamps on, not a sign of anyone having occupied the space. It felt strangely still.

“Cass?” His voice cracked slightly in the quiet.

Still no answer.

He glanced around until he noticed a slightly ajar door on his right. That must be her bedroom, he thought, looking at a thin strip of light spilling across the floor. He crossed the room quickly and picked inside.

There, curled on the massive bed, was Cassandra. Still fully dressed in the clothes from last night. The skin along one cheekbone was bruised, visible even in the evening light. She wasn’t sleeping. He could tell from the restless fidgeting movement of her fingers against the blanket.

She didn’t turn at the sound of the door, didn’t look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the window, staring into nothing.

For a moment, Tobias just stood there, feeling how a knot of dread tightened behind his ribs. This sight of her, so unlike the sharp, guarded Cassandra he knew, drove something sharp into his chest.

“Cassie?” he asked quietly, still standing at the threshold.

Her head snapped around, and for a heartbeat her expression was pure, startled fear. But when her gaze landed on him, it softened instantly.

“Tobias,” she rasped, sitting up. “What?... how are you here? And why-” her eyes caught on his clothes, “why are you in scrubs?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, Tobias crossed the space between them in three quick strides and sat on the edge of the bed, gathering her carefully into his arms.

Cassandra stiffened for a moment, then sagged against him, letting out a shuddering breath against his shoulder, as her hands clutched at the fabric of his scrubs top, 

“I thought you were- ” he whispered into her hair, but couldn’t finish it. “Your mother sent for me.”

Cassandra pulled back just enough to look at him, Tobias’ gaze drifted to the bruise on her right cheek, dark against her pale skin. He reached up, gently tracing just beneath it with the backs of his fingers.

“Did she…?” he whispered with something rough in his voice. Cassandra exhaled slowly, took his hand away from her face and held it between both of hers. 

“I told her everything,” she went on, “Mother returned from her trip earlier than expected and cornered me. I had no choice. She didn’t take it well. Slapped me and dragged me across the floor like I was ten again… But It’s fine now.”

“Oh, Cassie… It’s not-”

“I’ll be fine,” Cassandra didn’t let him finish, “she won’t touch me again.”

“How can you be sure?” His brow furrowed.

“Because I’m ten weeks. And it’s too late for anything subtle. Mother knows I’ll never consent to any procedure. She won’t risk a scandal by forcing it… Though it’s a good thing she didn’t know sooner.”

Tobias drew a long breath. He wanted to say a dozen things, but none of them would fix what had already been done. So instead, he pulled her in a tight embrace once again.

“She told me the same thing, in different words,” he murmured against her hair. “She sent a note to the hospital, claimed you were hurt, demanded I come immediately. And when I got here, it wasn’t about you, not really. She just told me that I’m nothing and that I’m a problem.”

Cassandra made a sharp sound against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me, I was perfectly aware of what I was doing.”

She swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment, then drew back and gave him an evaluating look.

“We should find you something to wear,” she said quietly, managing the ghost of a wry smile. “You can’t show up at my mother’s table in scrubs.”

Tobias huffed a breath, brushing a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “I didn’t exactly come prepared.”

“We still have some time to find you something,” Cassandra rose from the bed slowly, wincing as she stretched her sore limbs. “There’s a storage wardrobe upstairs. We keep it for… emergencies.”

Twenty minutes later, they reappeared in the bedroom with Tobias dressed in a deep navy formal suit in the old Piltovan style. It fit surprisingly well for a piece meant for someone else. Cassandra took a quick shower, put on a black dress and dabbed concealer over the bruise on her cheek. It didn’t hide everything, but it dulled the worst of it. When the bell rang to announce the dinner hour, Cassandra drew in a steadying breath, and led Tobias out.

The dining room was already set when they arrived. A long table meant for twenty, set for three, stretched between them and the far end, where Cecelia sat alone.

“Sit,” Cecelia said without looking up from her glass.

They did.

To Cassandra’s surprise, the food brought out wasn’t the usual for Kiramman dinners. The dishes were mild, simple even: two salads with fresh vegetables, roasted trout with lemon, and rice. The kind of food she could actually stomach.

“How generous,” Cassandra commented before she could stop herself, curling her fingers tightly around the fork, bracing for impact. If her mother wasn’t in the mood, then why wouldn’t she speak freely? How could this possibly get worse?

But to her surprise, Cecelia didn’t rise to it. “I don’t intend to starve you,” the matriarch said from the head of the table. “However foolish you’ve been, you’re still carrying the future of this house.”

Tobias visibly tensed at that, but Cassandra set a gentle hand on his knee under the table. 

The first course passed in brittle silence. 

Cecelia was the one to finally break it. “This should have been simple,” she went on. “You should have made a match befitting your name. Everything could have been normal. You wouldn’t have forced me into this position. And I wouldn’t have to cover for your mess.”

“You paraded those men before me and I made my choice,” Cassandra replied in a sharp tone. “You would never have approved of him, no matter how it happened.”

Cecelia gave a cold, humorless smile. “No, you’re right. I wouldn’t have. Not after the morning I had to drag you out of his flat, after your drunk escapade months ago!”

Tobias’ jaw clenched. “That’s enough-”

Cecelia ignored him. “And now,” she continued, returning her attention to her daughter, “I have to clean up your mess. You’ll marry him. Quickly. Before you start showing. The ceremony will be within the month. Private, no announcement until after, no press. I won’t have whispers around this city.”

Both Cassandra and Tobias let out an almost involuntary sigh. It was a victory.

But Cecelia wasn’t finished. 

“And another thing,” she set her wine glass down with a sharp click. “As of tonight, you stop your visits to the Undercity.”

As the words landed, Tobias' head whipped toward Cassandra in a silent question. But Cassandra only gave him a look, the one that meant it wouldn’t be discussed, not here, not now.

Cecelia, of course, caught the flicker between them and smiled thinly. “Ah. So she doesn’t even share things like this with you. Rather telling, don’t you think? Her future husband, and you’re left in the dark about the kind of risks she’s been taking while carrying your child. Cassandra has been monitoring Zaun ventilation project herself, breathing poison into her lungs, during the first trimester.” The matriarch shook her head with mocking disappointment. “Rather reckless, don’t you think, Doctor?”

Tobias stared at Cassandra, with a mix of hurt and confusion flickering behind his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Cassandra’s hand found his wrist under the table in a silent plea. Not now. Tobias froze. She didn’t look at him, her eyes were still fixed on Cecelia. 

Cecelia gave a quiet, sharp laugh, savoring the little fracture between them. “See, Doctor Valekor? This is what happens when little girls play rebellion and forget about the consequences.” The matriarch shifted, giving her daughter another warning look. “You will not go down there again, Cassandra. Not as my daughter, and certainly not as a pregnant woman. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Mother.” Cassandra answered looking down at her plate.

The rest of the meal passed in silence, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery against fine china. When the last dish was cleared, Cecelia stood without ceremony. 

“We’ll discuss ceremony details tomorrow. And Valekor,” the matriarch addressed Tobias directly. “I must say, I’m impressed, to see quite the loyalty. You take your cues well,” she remarked. ”A guest room has been prepared for you. You may stay for the night. And I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately while under this roof.” She didn’t wait for a reply and left.

Only when the doors closed behind her mother, did Cassandra finally release a breath. She slumped back against the high-backed chair, pressing her palms against the table’s edge.

“Well,” she exhaled. “That went better than expected.”

Tobias gave her a humorless laugh. “I suppose that’s as close to a blessing.” But then his face tensed again. “Cass,” he said after a moment, “why didn’t you tell me about the Undercity?”

She tilted her head, looking up at him. “I was going to tell you,” she said, barely above a whisper,” then, before he could reply, Cassandra rose, pushing her chair back. “Tobias, please," she said, nodding toward the hall. “We’ll talk about it…  in private. Now go to your room, take a shower and come to my chambers. You know the way.”

He searched her face a moment longer, then gave a short, tired nod. “Alright.”

It was nearly an hour later when Tobias knocked on the door to Cassandra’s chambers. 

“Come in,” she called for him without rising from the couch.

The door eased open and Tobias stepped inside, freshly showered and changed into a set of deep blue cotton pajamas, crisp and perfectly pressed, with gold piping at the collar and cuffs, and a small embroidered Kiramman Crest stitched over the left breast pocket.

“Don’t you look domesticated.” Cassandra arched a brow at the sight.

“Well,” Tobias drawled. “Apparently your mother wants me to feel like property.” He gave her a flat look, then glanced down at himself and huffed. 

Cassandra smirked. “They give those to all overnight guests, actually.” She reached out to kiss him as Tobias settled beside her. Cassandra rested her head against his shoulder, and took his hand in both hers.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you about the Undercity. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d lose your mind,” she admitted quietly, looking at their joined hands.

“Well, I’m losing it now. You do know how dangerous it is. Cass, you’re pregnant,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You can’t just-”

“I do know,” she whispered. “But I needed to oversee it myself,” she lifted her head to meet his eyes. “After all the delays… no one else was going to make sure it got done. Tobias, that ventilation is too important.”

He let out a low, frustrated sigh, but didn’t interrupt.

“There are pregnant women down there too,” Cassandra continued, “and children. People who never even had clean air to begin with. If we don’t fix it, no one will. And I’m not stupid, I wore a mask, I took precautions. I wasn’t reckless.”

“Cass…”

“I know. I know,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “That’s over. You heard me tell her. I’ll find someone to oversee. It’s not worth the risk anymore. I get that.”

Tobias stared at her for a long moment, searching her face as if trying to decide whether to argue or just accept the truth of it. In the end, he only sighed again. “You know, your mother was right about one thing,” he murmured. “You are reckless.”

“Reckless,” Cassandra echoed, pressing her head to his shoulder. “Then let’s hope our child takes after you instead,” she smiled faintly. “Someone in this family should have a little calm, or else, we’re doomed.” That earned a real laugh from him.

Tobias leaned down and kissed the top of her head. And for a while, they just sat like that, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. Finally, Cassandra sighed, admitting she was tired, and they went to bed.

Chapter Text

The next three weeks slipped by under the weight of routine. The estate stayed busy as always. 

Tobias had moved into the Kiramman mansion after that night. Officially, he was still assigned to a guest room on the other side of the house from Cassandra’s chambers, but by the third evening, no one questioned where he slept. His flat in the city was visited only when the break from his shifts at the hospital was too short.

Cassandra’s world narrowed to the estate grounds out of necessity. The Zaun ventilation project had been observed by one of the Kiramman secretaries, and of course, she was getting reports from the construction site every single day. She also had been helping her mother with the Council work, and preparing for the wedding at the same time.

That day was supposed to proceed like any other. Cassandra had been supposed to confirm the floral arrangements that morning. The meeting was scheduled for ten. 

Cecelia had observed from her balcony how the garden preparations were going, and, in particular, how two florists stood in formation by the hedges, with an array of options already laid out: peonies, delphinium, sterile white lilies cut just hours ago. One of the florists stood awkwardly by the fountain, checking her watch. The other hovered near the vases. But the thing that caught Cecelia’s attention was that Cassandra’s chair remained empty.

She waited precisely seven more minutes before descending the marble stairs into the garden. When she stepped onto the gravel path, the florists straightened.

“Was there a delay?” The matriarch asked, flat.

The one with the vases looked nervous. “Councilor, we were told Lady Cassandra would be down in fifteen minutes. That was nearly twenty minutes ago. A maid said-”

“Interesting.”

Cecelia turned on her heel and walked the length of the garden, then up the stairs with her heels clicking sharp. She was already irritated. Cassandra was supposed to be there. And it wasn’t the first time she had vanished when she was needed, but the matriarch was in no mood to tolerate it today. She pushed open the door to her daughter’s chambers without knocking.

The room was dim, no one in sight. Then, from the adjoining bathroom, came a harsh, unmistakable sound – retching, followed by a long, shuddering breath.

Cecelia’s mouth tightened. The lecture she had planned evaporated into something else she didn’t have a name for.

A moment later, green-faced Cassandra appeared in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame. She didn’t even look up at her mother standing there.

“Mother, please don’t start,” Cassandra muttered, heading straight for the bed. She climbed onto it, curled on her side, throwing one arm over her eyes.

Cecelia stood motionless for a beat longer than she meant to.

“You missed your appointment,” she said finally, quieter than she had intended.

“I know.”

A pause.

“I heard,” Cecelia said, glancing toward the bathroom door, then back at her daughter. “I thought you had already passed the worst of this.”

Cassandra gave a tired, humorless laugh. “Apparently not.”

Cecelia cleared her throat. “Do you want me to have the kitchen send something up? Some broth, maybe? Or… toast.”

Cassandra lowered her arm and peered at her, brow lifted in faint disbelief. “What, are you offering to bring me soup now?”

“Cassandra!” The matriarch raised her voice.

Cecelia drew a slow breath through her nose, trying not to raise her own voice, but the word had already slipped from her lips.

This was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? An heir, a fulfilled duty. And yet, seeing Cassandra like this didn’t give her any satisfaction.

Her gaze drifted toward the window as unwelcome memories began to uncoil. She could still recall what those early weeks of pregnancy had felt like: the constant dizziness, strange cravings, and how she had sent her husband into another room because she couldn’t stand his scent.

She had wanted Cassandra to have a child, yes. But she never wanted her to suffer like this.

“Sorry,” Cassandra gave a small snort that took her out of her thoughts. “Maybe later.”

And suddenly, Cecelia wasn’t angry anymore. The irritation that had driven her up the stairs drained away.

The matriarch folded her hands in front of herself, her gaze flicking back to her daughter. “I’ll reschedule the florists,” she said at last. “Tomorrow, same hour.”

Cassandra turned her head into the pillow, closed her eyes, then nodded.

“I’ll be there,” she muttered in response.

Cecelia gave a faint, almost involuntary nod. Then, stepped toward the bed, hesitated,  but stopped herself. Her gaze fell on Cassandra’s hand, instinctively resting low over her stomach.

“I’ll let you rest,” she whispered, stepping to the door and closing it quietly behind herself.

Cassandra stayed curled on her side. “Thank you,” she whispered into the pillow, long after the door had closed.

—

The wedding took place in the Kiramman garden on a cloudless day in late June. 

The garden was polished to perfection. Hedges were trimmed, stone pathways swept clean. Piltover's finest musicians were playing music beside a decorated stage. The guests were seated in front of it. Just the necessary handful: Tobias’ parents, who were invited from Ionia and seated at the front, and House Kiramman allies at the back. No press, no extended family beyond obligation, just as Cecelia wanted.

Tobias stood beneath the arch in formal Ionian attire – crisp white robes with narrow indigo edging that matched his hair, and silver knotwork along the collar. His beard was trimmed, hair combed back. The Kiramman ring rested on his left hand. In fact, he had been wearing it every day since the day Cassandra gave it to him, taking it off only for surgery.

He hadn’t seen the dress, not until now. That had been one of Cassandra’s few strict requests.

His gaze drifted toward the entrance with anticipation, and the next moment, Cassandra appeared, emerging from the house led by Cecelia, with her arm looped through her mother’s. They moved slowly, the train of her dress whispered over the path in a soft rustle of silk, and for a moment, the entire garden seemed to hold its breath.

The dress was unlike anything the guests had expected – Piltovan in its structure, Ionian in its spirit. It fell off the shoulders in a curved lace neckline, with a cascade of embroidered flowers tracing the bodice down to a smooth, fitted waist. The sleeves were sheer and voluminous, gathered delicately at the wrists with layered lace and a single sapphire thread woven subtly through each cuff. A narrow band of Kiramman blue ran the length of the skirt’s underlayer, catching the light only when she moved.

As they reached the stage, Cassandra stepped away from her mother to meet him at the arch. They didn’t touch, not yet, Instead, they bowed to each other, and a shared breath passed between them. The smallest twitch of a smile crossed Tobias’ lips as he straightened, letting his eyes flicker over the dress. 

At the front of the stage stood Professor Heimerdinger, dressed in his ceremonial robes, standing on a small platform just tall enough to bring him level with the couple’s elbows. His eyes crinkled as Cassandra approached.

Cecelia had insisted on Heimerdinger being their registrar. He had known her since she was a baby, in fact, since the day Cecelia introduced her daughter to Piltover’s nobility at one month old. And now she stood before him, ready to start her own family.

The ceremony was brief. The registrar asked the necessary questions. The wows were spoken. And then, Cassandra extended her left hand, Tobias took it with both of his, and  Heimerdinger wound a ribbon around their joined hands.

The professor’s eyes flicked to Cassandra’s posture. to the way she shifted her weight with calculation. His eyes narrowed. He suspected, of course, but had said nothing.

“This ribbon marks an agreement of a mutual will. It is acknowledged under the laws of Piltover. What you build from this point onward belongs to both of you equally. Now you may kiss in confirmation.” He stepped back.

Tobias leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. The guests applauded. 

The dinner followed, and after the grand cake was served, Cassandra and Tobias were sent to her chambers. Well, it was their chambers now, officially. Now the two of them were finally left alone.

The rooms had been prepared for the occasion. The curtains were drawn, fresh peonies had been arranged in tall vases, a bottle of Noxian wine sat on the coffee table in the main room, beside two crystal flutes. The bed, visible through the open doorway, had been dressed in cream linens, the canopy had been drawn back.

It was meant to be calming, but Cassandra found it strangely surreal. She stepped inside, gave a quiet huff, let go of his hand, and kicked off her shoes, instinctively curling her toes against the cool floor.

“How’re you feeling?” Tobias asked gently.

Cassandra turned her head toward him, brushing the edge of the sash at her waist with tentative fingers. “I’m okay,” she replied, tilting her head. “Did you like the dress?” She asked, looking right into his eyes.

He took a slow step forward, studying her. The embroidery, the neckline, the faint sheen of sweat at her collarbone, the blue accents catching the light. “It’s beautiful,” he smiled. “You’re beautiful.”

Cassandra gave a faint laugh and tugged at one of the long cuffs. “It’s too much fabric. I’m sorry, but you won’t have the satisfaction of taking it off me properly. I need a shower before I even think about letting you near me.”

“I can help,” he murmured teasingly.

“Would you unfasten the back? I can’t reach.”

He stepped forward, not reaching for her yet. “Anything else?”

“You’re allowed to enjoy the view while you do it,” Cassandra gave him an equally teasing look.

Tobias reached for her then. His fingers brushed the top of the gown, just beneath the clasp at her neck. She tilted her head slightly as he undid the clasp, then found the hidden zipper just beneath the lace. The fabric separated with slow inevitability and fell to her feet, revealing the elegant embroidered lace lingerie that matched in color with her dress.

Cassandra didn’t rush, she let him linger a little longer, and then stepped out of the dress, meeting his gaze, gave him a small, unapologetic smile, and disappeared into the bathroom without waiting for a reply.

When the door closed behind her, Tobias picked up the dress from the floor and gently folded it over the back of a couch. Then, when the water turned on in the bathroom, he took the outer layers of his suit and placed it near Cassandra’s dress.

He left the white linen undershirt and ceremonial trousers, and sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes drifted toward the door again.

It was strange, sitting like this – married, finally. Not just together in the way they had become used to, but officially bound on record. Tobias stared at the floor for a moment, then let his eyes drift up, towards the ceiling. He remembered the first time they met. The accident, the surgeries, her fighting for his licence with her mother after almost bleeding out on his hands. And now here they were. And here she was, on the other side of the wall, taking a moment to breathe under the spray of warm water before returning to the same bed he had shared with her in these last three weeks, when he was supposed to be sleeping in the guest room on the other side of the mansion. 

Tobias let his eyes close for a beat. The image of her standing in front of him just minutes ago played again behind his lids. How the gown had parted slowly at her back, the way the satin caught the light, the lace banded across her thighs. Beautiful, yes. But more than that, she hadn’t covered herself, hadn’t blushed, she had looked at him and let herself be seen. He felt warmth stir in his stomach again, Gods, he wanted her.

But even so, if she stepped out of the bathroom and said she was tired, if she just wanted to sleep. He would pull the covers back, gather her in, and let her rest. There was no need to rush what they already had.

The water shut off.

Tobias straightened slightly. He didn’t move when a couple of minutes later the bathroom door opened. 

Chapter Text

The water shut off.

Tobias straightened slightly. He didn’t move when a couple of minutes later the bathroom door opened. 

Cassandra emerged in silence, wrapped in a cream colored satin robe he had never seen before. It wasn’t like the dark brown or the emerald green ones he got used to in these past weeks. This one was different – lighter, the silken fabric skimming just beneath the tops of her thighs. It draped with casual elegance at her chest, and was loosely tied at the waist. It was clearly a part of the bridal set, and clearly was meant to suggest far more than it concealed.​

His eyes swept over her from the hollow of her throat down the curves barely hidden beneath the fabric, and then back to her face, before he could stop himself.

Cassandra didn’t speak, just crossed the floor with measured confidence, and climbed into his lap without hesitation, bracing her knees on each side of his legs. Tobias leaned back slightly, catching her in his arms. Her fingers found his cheek, brushing lightly along the side of his face, then lingering there. 

Tobias drew in a slow breath.

His eyes flicked downward, to the open line of the robe and what it nearly failed to conceal her breasts. But a beat later, his gaze returned to her face, searching, and before he could say a word, her mouth curved faintly.

His hands moved instinctively to her stomach. He needed to ask, to make sure.

“I meant it earlier,” he murmured. “If you’re tired-”

“I’m not.” Her hand dropped from his face. She pulled back just enough to let her hands settle over his. “Besides,” she murmured near his ear, “we’re ahead of schedule already.” 

Tobias blinked then let out a quiet chuckle.

“No need to try for a baby tonight,” she placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “We can just… enjoy each other.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her back, slower this time, more certain. Cassandra’s tongue brushed his lightly at first, then deeper, coaxing a low hum from Tobias' throat. His hands slid from her stomach to her hips, feeling the heat radiating off her skin beneath the thin fabric. Cassandra shifted in his lap, pressing herself closer, creating friction that sent a jolt through him. Her hands found his hair, tugging just enough to make him tilt his head back. The kiss deepened, but a moment later Cassandra withdrew.

“You’re too soft with me sometimes,” she whispered teasingly, trailing her dainty fingers down his chest, then pausing at the hem of his shirt. 

“Take this off.”

Tobias obeyed. He reached back, pulling the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and tossed it aside. 

Cassandra’s eyes flicked over him, and without wasting time, she leaned in again, brushing her lips over his collarbone, then lower, leaving a trail of soft kisses, exploring with confidence that made his pulse quicken.

His hands found the sash of her robe and tugged it loose. The satin parted, slipping off one shoulder, revealing nothing but bare skin beneath. Tobias' eyes widened as he traced a thumb across the bare curve of her breast.

Cassandra pulled back slightly, giving him a small, knowing smile. She shifted her hips against him just enough, then stopped, watching his reaction, clearly enjoying it. Her hands trailed lower, resting at the waistband of his trousers, where the fabric did little to hide his growing arousal. 

Tobias sucked in a breath, feeling his pulse thundering behind his ears, and still, even now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how close he had come to never knowing her like this.

He could see it so clearly in his mind – a version of his life where they had never collided, where he never met her in that OR, where they never shared a single quiet evening in his flat. How easily it could have been someone else beside her right now.

But it wasn’t. It was him, and he wanted to give her everything.

He pulled her closer, giving her a silent permission, and Cassandra’s hand slipped beneath the waistband, wrapping fingers around him, then stroking with a rhythm that made his hips jerk involuntarily. 

“Cassandra-” Tobias’ hands shot up to grip her hips.

“Shh,” she whispered, giving him a little wicked smile, “let me play,” and drew her hand away entirely. Tobias groaned desperately at the loss.

“Would you lift your butt for me?” She asked, tugging the garments down his hips, freeing his cock. 

Cassandra hummed, satisfied, and pushed the garments lower, letting them fall somewhere beyond the edge of the bed. Only then did she settle back, higher on his lap, bracing palms on his shoulders, knees sliding wider until the slick heat of her hovered just above him. 

The glide was slow and almost lazy. The soft, slick pussy lips brushing his shaft, never parting but not taking him in. Cassandra moaned dramatically every time the head of him nudged her clit with each forward roll of her hips.

Tobias’ hands flew to her waist, holding onto her rather than trying to hold her still. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting his head fall back against the sheets. His hips instinctively jerked upward, seeking more, but Cassandra controlled the angle. 

She leaned forward, brushing her breasts over his chest. 

“Look at you, husband,” she murmured teasingly cruel, lips grazing his ear. “So close already,” and rolled her hips again, harder this time.

His fingers dug into her skin. “Cass-ahh, please,” he rasped, “you’re going to make me-”

“Not yet,” she cut him off, instantly sitting up straighter, and dragged an index finger across his lower stomach, tracing the dark blue line of hair that disappeared beneath where they almost joined.

Tobias’ hips jerked again. His entire body went rigid beneath her. A desperate sound left his throat, and the next moment, he surged upward, and in one swift motion, he rolled her onto her back catching her off guard.

Cassandra landed on the pillows with a loud gasp, which melted into a low moan when his weight settled over her, pressing his cock flush along her soaked folds.

Tobias leaned down, capturing her mouth in a hungry kiss, as his hands roamed her body, one palm sliding up her thigh, the other cupping her breast, thumb brushing over the nipple. The sensation shot a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to her core. She gasped into his mouth, digging nails into his shoulders just enough to leave faint marks.

“You’re not the only one who gets to tease,” Tobias murmured against her lips. Then he pulled back slightly, trailing his mouth down her jaw, throat, pausing to nip lightly at the sensitive skin just below her ear. Cassandra’s head tilted back, inviting the sensation that sparked a fresh wave of need. Her hips shifted restlessly beneath him, as his lips continued their descent, kissing along her collarbone, then lower, taking one nipple into his mouth.

One hand slipped between her legs, parting her folds. Two fingers glide over her sensitive spot with maddening lightness. She arched, trying to rock against him, but his free hand pinned her hip to the mattress. Tobias kept his pace without ever giving her what she demanded.

Another pass, and then he slipped a tip of one finger inside, just one  knuckle, before pulling back out. Cassandra’s head shook against the sheets. A frustrated whimper escaped her lips as he did it again, deeper this time, curling slightly but then retreating entirely.

“Tobias, please,” she gasped, trying to chase his hand.

He added a second finger, stretching her just enough to make her moan, but just as the coil in her belly tightened, he withdrew completely, leaving her empty and aching.

Cassandra’s eyes snapped open, and a low, incredulous sound teared from her throat. 

“You bastard- that was cruel.”

Tobias leaned down, grinning widely, before his lips brushed the inside of her thigh. “Ah, no, this won’t get you anywhere, Cassandra. Beg for it,” he murmured rough with want. “I want to hear it.”

But Cassandra was already too far gone to care about pride. “Please,” she breathed, hips rolling helplessly. “Tobias, please, I want it. Please.”

Only then his mouth closed over her.

When his mouth finally found her, and his tongue brushed lightly against the aroused bundle of nerves, Cassandra’s entire body jolted. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp cry escaped her throat. Tobias’ lips closed around her clit, sucking rhythmically, then circling with slow, merciless strokes that made her squirm, her hips rocked against him in a desperate bid for more, and he obliged, sliding one hand up to grip her thigh, holding her steady as he deepened the pressure. 

The coil snapped without mercy.

Cassandra came hard, with a shattered cry tearing from her throat as her body locked, pulsing around his tongue. Tobias groaned against her, licking her through every spasm until she was shaking.

Only when she sagged, gasping, did he ease off, pressing soft, reverent kisses to the inside of her thigh as she caught her breath. 

Cassandra reached for him, pulling him up to kiss her, tasting herself on his lips. “You’re too good at that,” she murmured, despite the intensity still coursing through her.

“Only because I love my wife so much,” Tobias replied with a grin, settling over her. She laughed at that, but the sound turned into a gasp as he pressed himself against her entrance. He paused, waiting for her to say something. 

“Don’t make me beg again,” Cassandra whispered, pressing her heel against his back to urge him forward. 

Tobias groaned, entering her slowly, savoring the way her body yielded to him. Cassandra’s breath hitched, and a sharp gasp escaped as he filled her completely. 

They moved together like in a dance perfected over weeks of learning each other’s bodies. Cassandra’s leg thrown over his shoulder intensified every sensation. 

Tobias’ hands found her hip, angling her just right, her gasps growing louder, turning into more desperate moans. Her eyes fluttered shut, head titled back as she lost herself in the sensation, trembling with need for release. 

“Ahh,” she breathed loud, breaking as the tension snapped. Her body clenched around him as she came with her leg shaking against his shoulder. Tobias followed moments later. HE groaned, burying his face in her neck, riding out the intensity with her.

They stayed tangled together until Cassandra shifted slightly, wrapping both legs around his waist, as their breaths slowed. Tobias pressed a brief kiss to her temple, and rolled to lie beside her, pulling her against his chest. Cassandra curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder, still savouring the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Round one,” Cassandra breathed with a faint smile curving on her lips after a short moment of silence. 

“Give me a minute,” Tobias chuckled, placing a kiss on her temple.

True to her word, Cassandra didn’t let him rest long. After a brief pause, her hand drifted lower, stroking him back to hardness with slow, careful movements. Tobias groaned, already lost to her touch. She climbed over him again, riding him until they both collapsed, breathless.

Later, after a third round, Cassandra lay tucked into the crook of Tobias’ arm. One leg was still hooked loosely over his body. They didn’t talk for a while.

Cassandra’s voice came quiet, breaking the comfortable silence.

“How was the day with your parents?” She murmured, tracing absent patterns his chest. "How did they take the news of… all this?”

Tobias looked down at her, then exhaled through his nose, slowly drawing his hand up and down her shoulder.

“They were fine,” he answered. “Startled, maybe. But not angry. I’d mentioned someone in letters. Not often but… enough that they knew there was a girl. Never by name, just... that there was someone.”

Cassandra made an approving hum in her throat. “So they weren’t shocked.”

“Well.” He gave her a small, unsure smile. “They were less surprised about the wedding itself than about who the girl was. And definitely more surprised when I told them she was already halfway to giving them a grandchild.”

Cassandra groaned, burying her face in his chest. “You told them we’re expecting today?”

“I had to,” he chuckled. “Not the whole thing, though. Just that the baby’s due in about six months. Otherwise my mother would’ve done the math and thought we were hiding something worse.”

Cassandra didn’t respond, but he felt the way her body tensed against his.

“She asked,” he added after a brief pause, “if that was why the wedding was so rushed.”

“And what did you say?” She lifted her head to look him in the eyes.

“I told her no,” He held her gaze, and reached down, taking her hand in his. “That it wasn’t about that. That the child wasn’t an accident. That we’ve known each other for nearly two years. That we’d made the decision together.”

Her fingers tightened in his. “And?”

Tobias shrugged one shoulder. “Eventually, they told me that if I’m happy, then they’re happy for me. That it’s my life, my decisions,” He hesitated, smiling almost amused. “Before the ceremony, my father pulled me aside. Gave me this quiet pat on the shoulder and said something about how women always know who to choose. Said you seem like a good person, Cass. And that it’s magic you chose me, just like it was magic my mother chose him.”

Cassandra’s lips parted, her heart melted at the way he said it with such affection. 

“Magic, huh?” she smiled widely now, brushing her fingers along his cheek. “Your father ia a romantic, Tobias.”

Tobias laughed, catching her hand again and pressing a kiss to her palm. 

“He is, and he's not wrong. I’m happy, Cass. Really happy. For us and… for this.” His hand drifted to her stomach, smoothing over it lovingly.

Cassandra leaned down, kissing him on the lips. “I’m happy too,” she whispered barely audibly. “I’m happy it’s you.”

At last, Cassandra’s hand slid back to his chest, as she tucked herself down into the crook of his arm once more. Tobias shifted slightly, adjusting the blankets, curling his arm around her waist, drawing her close. Cassandra let out a tired breath against his shoulder, already slipping toward sleep.

Tobias smiled at her, completely spent and ready to drift away any moment. 

“Good night,” he whispered into the quiet, brushing a final kiss to her temple.

“Night…” Cassandra’s fingers curled against his chest, before going still a couple of minutes later.

Chapter Text

The morning of the fourteenth week appointment started with a small frustration.

Cassandra stood in front of the full-length mirror in her wardrobe and swore under her breath, holding the waistband of her favorite brown trousers in both hands. She tugged on it with force, but the fabric resisted stubbornly. A week ago, they had still fastened, and now the button seemed a full centimeter out of reach.

She stared down at the stubborn button, then at the subtle curve of her lower abdomen. It wasn’t much yet, no one else would notice, but to her it felt monumental.

It felt strangely real now. A life growing inside her, rearranging her body the way she couldn’t control. And with that feeling, came a new, uninvited fear.

What if I turn into her?

What if one day her child looked at her the way she had looked at Cecelia?

Cassandra let out a long, shuddering breath, pressing a palm flat against the curve of her stomach.

“It’s going to be different,” she whispered, low enough that Tobias wouldn’t hear from the bedroom. “I swear to you I’ll be different-”

But then, in the exact moment, she was interrupted by Tobias’ head picking through the doorframe.

“Ready?” he asked softly, but caught the sight of her face and straightened instantly. “Is something wrong?”

Cassandra forced a crooked smile. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Cass.”

“I couldn’t button my trousers.” She let out a brittle little laugh that didn’t sound right in her own ears. “I’m… growing. I mean, obviously. I knew it would happen but… it’s just-” She cut herself off, waving a hand helplessly, hoping he hadn’t heard what she was saying before he stepped in the room. He didn’t need to know the real reason for her worry, or at least, not now. 

And Tobias, ever so predictable, did exactly what she thought he would do. He crossed the space between them and cupped her face, gently brushing both thumbs along her cheeks.

“Hey,” he breathed. “That’s not nothing. And it’s not stupid.” His voice was comforting and steady, the way it always was when he tried to smooth out the rough edges of her mood.

Cassandra let her gaze drop for a moment, focusing on the small space between them. He didn’t press for whatever else was behind her voice, but she could tell by the slight tension in his body that he had filed it away to revisit later.

“I just… wasn’t expecting it to be today,” she let out at last. “Last week, they still fit. I thought I had more time.”

“That’s how it works sometimes,” he brushed a thumb once more along her left cheek before he let his hands fall. His eyes studied her for a moment longer, as if weighing whether to push for what else was on her mind. But instead, he stepped back and glanced toward the door. 

“Come on,” he urged, glancing toward the hallway. “If we’re late, Jaasko will lecture us about respecting her schedule. She’s probably already mad we skipped last week’s appointment, so we’d better not give her another reason.”

Cassandra sighed, abandoning the trousers entirely and stepping into a looser skirt that still sat comfortably on her hips. She took one last glance in the mirror, just long enough to make sure she looked composed, and followed Tobias out.

The drive to Dr. Jaasko’s clinic passed in the kind of easy silence they’d grown used to sharing.

Dr. Jaasko was waiting by the front desk, as though she had been tracking their arrival to the minute. 

“Ah, hello,” she greeted. “My favorite secret patients,” her hazel eyes moved between them as a faint smile tugged at her mouth. “Or perhaps I should say – my favorite newlyweds. Congratulations.”

Cassandra blinked in surprise, but returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“I saw the article in the news,” Jaasko continued, with approval clearly audible in her voice. “You kept that under wraps very well. I imagine that was no small feat.”

Tobias too offered her a kind smile. “We had good reason to keep it quiet until it was done.”

“Well, now that it’s official, I wish you both happiness, and, of course, health for the little one,” her gaze flicked meaningfully toward Cassandra’s midsection. “Shall we get started?”

In the exam room, after Cassandra’s weight was measured, she settled onto the padded table, leaning back against the angled support, and Tobias took a seat beside her. 

“How have you been feeling since our last visit?” The doctor asked, snapping on a pair of gloves.

“The nausea’s better,” Cassandra admitted. “Though still tired sometimes. And-” she gave Tobias a look, “apparently my trousers do not button anymore.”

Jaasko smiled knowingly. “That’s entirely normal. Your uterus is rising out of the pelvis now, so the lower abdomen begins to change shape. You’ll be much more comfortable in looser clothes from here on.”

Then, after the bloodwork Tobias had sent to the lab the day before and Cassandra’s blood pressure had been checked, the doctor prepped the ultrasound machine, explaining as she worked. “Blood pressure and weight today are normal for gestation, so we’re in a good place. Also, today we’ll confirm heartbeat and check growth. We can also talk about any symptoms and the next stages of care.”

“Cold gel incoming,” the doctor warned, Cassandra braced herself for the moment it touched her skin. And within seconds, the grainy black and white image shifted, and the baby’s profile flickered onto the monitor

The shape was no longer the vague bean like image from weeks ago, the fetus now had a distinct head, body, and small, flexing limbs.

“Ah, here we are,” Jaasko murmured, pointing to the small, clearly defined shape. “Your fetus is measuring thirteen weeks and six days, which is perfectly in line with your dating. Crown-rump length is measuring at about eight pint seven centimetres, heart rate is…” She pressed a button, and the rhythmic sound filled the quiet room. “One hundred fifty-five beats per minute.” 

Then, she pointed with the cursor. “You can see the nasal bone here, the developing spine here, and here, the four-chamber heart, looks perfect. Placenta is posterior, well clear of the cervix. Amniotic fluid volume is normal.” She clicked a few more times, then paused to let them watch.

Cassandra watched, transfixed, as the baby shifted slightly. She had gotten used to the idea of something being there, but now… it was no longer just something. It was a tiny human now. Tobias’ eyes were too fixed on the screen, following every flicker.

“That’s…” Cassandra’s voice softened almost involuntarily. “That’s a lot more like a baby than last time.”

Jaasko gave her another knowing smile. “They grow quickly from here. You’ll feel more movement soon. Likely within the next few weeks.” Then, her glance landed sideways on Tobias, whose eyes were still glued to the screen. 

“And what about you, Tobias?” she asked lightly. “I remember you on the course. You were meticulous, but you always kept that professional wall up. Now it’s different, I can see it in your eyes. How does it feel, seeing your own baby on the screen?”

Tobias blinked, as though pulled out of a deep focus. “It’s… different,” he admitted after a beat. “I’ve seen many scans, but this-” He shook his head faintly. “This is nothing like those. I’m… I never thought I could love someone I haven’t even met,” his voice almost broke on the last word. 

Cassandra’s eyes softened at the way his voice changed. Her hand flew to squeeze his.

Jaasko gave a short, satisfied nod. “That’s pretty normal,” she said simply. “It’s good for medics in our field to know what it’s like to be on the other side.” 

“Can you tell the baby’s sex yet?” Cassandra asked when the room fell quiet.

“Sometimes, at this stage, we can make a guess.” The doctor’s mouth curved faintly. “But it’s not always reliable until the next checkup around twenty weeks. I’d rather be sure before I say anything definitively. But everything else looks excellent.”

Cassandra was quiet through the rest of the appointment.

Dr. Jaasko printed out a set of images, and scheduled the next appointment in a month, then offered them another warm smile and handed Tobias the envelope with prints, as Cassandra sat up, smoothing her skirt back into place. 

“Healthy pregnancy so far. That’s the best thing I can tell you. Any questions before I send you two off?” Jaasko asked.

Cassandra hesitated. “Nothing… that can’t wait until next time.” 

“Good. Then I’ll see you in six weeks, sooner if anything unusual happens. And Cassandra, remember what we talked about last time. Take things at a sustainable pace, no overexertion.”

“I know,” Cassandra replied. “I’ll behave.” Tobias snorted at that but didn’t comment.

Once they stepped back outside, Tobias helped her into the waiting carriage, and sat across from her. Cassandra stretched one leg out, flexing her foot as her gaze fixed on the view outside the window.

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Tobias handed her the envelope, Cassandra took it, and was now tracing its edge absentmindedly. But then she glanced sideways at him. 

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

“Saw what?” Her husband looked up at her.

“The baby’s sex.”

He didn’t answer right away, which was an answer enough.

“You’re a pediatric surgeon,” she pressed with a sly sort of insistence. “You have been glued to the screen, Tobias, you must have noticed it.”

But Tobias only exhaled through his nose, watching the play of sunlight across her profile. “I noticed anatomy, yes. But the same thing Jaasko told you applies to me-”

“Don’t give me that,” her tone was sharper than she intended. “I know you can read an ultrasound, and you know what you saw.”

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Cass-”

“Tell me,” she pressed, tilting her head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You want my professional opinion?”

“I want to know what you think.”

He regarded her for a long moment, then shook his head, considering. “You really want to know what I think?”

“Yes.”

He shifted, resting an elbow along the side of the carriage. 

“All right. Fetal genitalia begin differentiating around week eleven, but the external structures are indistinct for a while. They start from the same tissue – the genital tubercle, which will become either the clitoris or the penis. But until about sixteen weeks, sometimes later, the difference between them on ultrasound is too subtle to call with certainty. It’s all about the angle of the tubercle in relation to the spine, and even then, a wrong probe angle can make it look like one or the other. So… if I give you an answer now, I’m either guessing or letting my bias read the screen for me. And both are unreliable.”

Cassandra snorted at the dry delivery, leaning her head back against the seat. “So that’s a no.”

She didn’t look disappointed, but Tobias noticed the way her body lost some of its ease from earlier in the clinic. He watched her quietly for a moment, then reached over, brushing his knuckles lightly against her arm. 

“Is this all because you’re afraid the baby could be a boy?”

Her head snapped toward him instantly, brows lifting in genuine surprise. “What? No. Don't be ridiculous.” She gave a small, incredulous laugh. “Tobias, I don’t care if our baby is a boy. They will be loved, no matter what.”

“I’m not,” he said evenly. “It would make sense, if-”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “The child will be loved, no matter their sex. I’m not worried about that. But-” She gave him a sidelong look that was way too serious, balancing something fragile in her mind and deciding whether to let it drop into the open.

“But what?” Tobias urged gently.

Cassandra hesitated. Her gaze flickered back to the window, watching the blur of the street pass by. Her thumb kept stroking along the paper edge of the envelope, as if the movement would steady her thoughts. She drew in a breath, let it out slowly, then another. She could feel the words forming, heavy and unwelcome, and if she said them, they would become real.

“Cass,” Tobias asked again. “You know I’ll listen.”

Cassadra turned her head, to find his eyes fixed on her – patient, without any hint of pushiness. He didn’t prod, didn’t fill the silence with easy reassurances that would only make her retreat further. That was one of the things she had learned quickly about him, when she was overwhelmed, he didn’t crowd her, he always gave her the room to breathe until she decided.

Her throat felt tight, but she made herself hold his gaze. “It’s just…” She whispered. “When my trousers didn’t button this morning, and then when I saw the movement on the screen, those little flutters. It stopped feeling like a picture of… something abstract. It's real now. And that’s good, that’s amazing, but also-” she hesitated, forcing the words through. “It’s terrifying. It’s a person I am responsible for.” Tobias stayed silent, letting her find the words.

“And I realized,” she continued, “the only example I’ve ever had of how to be a mother is… her. Cold, distant, controlled to the point of suffocating. And what if-” her breath hitched. “And I can tell myself I’ll be different, that I’ll be warm and open, but what if I can’t? What if I only know how to hold a child at arm's length? What if that’s the only way I know how to do it?”

Tobias’ hands moved to cover hers completely. “Cass,” he said with that underlying certainty, “you’re already different.”

She gave a small, humorless huff. “You can’t know that.”

“I can,” he said without hesitation. “Because you’re sitting here, worrying about it. You’re already doing something she never did. And that’s the first safeguard against becoming her.” His thumb stroked the side of her hand. “You will learn to be there for them, not without mistakes, everyone makes mistakes. But you’ll try to be different. That’s what makes a parent – constantly learning with the child, even when it’s hard, even when you think you’ve failed.”

Cassandra’s gaze faltered, dropping to where his fingers curved around hers. “I want to believe you’re right,” she murmured.

“You’ll see that I am,” Tobias stated simply, with that quiet conviction that always made her want to believe him. 

The estate gates loomed ahead through the window when Tobias moved to sit beside her, pulling her in a warm embrace.

Chapter Text

Cassandra stepped out of the carriage absently resting a hand on the curve of her stomach. The afternoon was warm and quiet, she had planned to return to her rooms, change into a flowy dress and then sit in the garden with a book until Tobias returned home.

Though her plan was never to be completed, she only made it up the stairs as a maid met her in the foyer.

“Welcome home, lady Cassandra,” Ilyana said with a small bow of her head. “Lady Cecelia has asked if you would join her for tea in her sitting room.”

Cassandra’s brow lifted. “Right now?”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s already waiting.”

It wasn’t unusual for Cecelia to summon her, but not like that. It wasn’t like the usual ‘invitations’ from her mother Cassandra had endured over the years. It was strange. She wasn’t often invited to her mother’s sitting room for tea.

“All right,” Cassandra replied. “Please, tell my Mother I’ll be there in ten minutes,” before making her way up the stairs then down the side corridor, heading first to her chambers.

Cassandra stepped into her rooms, closing the door behind her with a faint click. She moved automatically, slipping out of her formal clothes, exchanging it for a cream silk gown that gave her more space to breathe.

Her reflection in the tall mirror drew her eyes despite herself. The curve of her belly was unmistakable now, even in loose gowns. Twenty weeks. Halfway through. Her palm brushed across the swell absently. Cecelia’s summons could not be ignored. So she combed her hair and made her way to her mother’s wing. 

The sitting room door stood open, bathed in warm afternoon light spilling through tulle curtains. Cecelia sat already in place, perfectly straight, as always, with her hands lightly folded on her lap. The table before her was already set with two porcelain cups, and a small selection of biscuits.

“Cassandra,” Cecelia greeted her daughter, almost warm. “You must be tired. Please, do sit.”

That alone was enough to make Cassandra pause for a heartbeat before she sank into the opposite chair, crossing her hands on her lap.

“I understand you had your appointment with Dr. Jaasko,” Cecelia began, pouring tea with her usual elegance. “Without Tobias this time.”

“He had surgery scheduled, so yes,” Cassandra replied, accepting the offered cup. 

“And?” Cecelia’s gaze sharpened slightly with genuine curiosity.

Cassandra allowed herself the smallest smile, curling her fingers around the warm porcelain. “Everything is fine. Jaasko says I’m healthy, the baby is healthy too and… measuring a few days ahead. It’s a girl, we know for certain now.”

Something flickered in Cecelia’s expression, her lips curved with the faintest edge of satisfaction in it. “Congratulations, then,” she said smoothly. “It’s fitting. The first child in our family has always been a girl. That’s why House Kiramman is matrilineal. Myself, my mother, her mother before her, and you continue the pattern.”

Cassandra blinked, then gave a quiet hum, unsure what to make of the comment. Though, there was a question hovering in her head since she left the doctor’s office, and now seemed like the only moment she would have the courage to ask.

“Mother…” Cassandra began carefully. “What if the baby had been a boy?”

“Why do you ask?” Cecelia slowly lowered the cup.

“Because it was possible.”

The matriarch leaned back in her chair, watching the way her daughter’s hand rested on the underside of her belly. “You know our laws, Cassandra.”

Cassandra looked down at her tea. “And what if… what if Tobias and I couldn’t?” She asked.

Cecelia sighed slowly, clearly annoyed. “Cassandra, why worry yourself with this now? It is not our situation, and we’re all fortunate it’s a girl.”

“I just needed to know,” she whispered, still looking at her tea.

Cecelia lifted her cup again, letting the silence signal the end of that line. 

“Well,” she said after a moment, in a tone that made it clear the matter was closed. “The important thing is that everything is progressing normally. A healthy daughter is something to be grateful for.”

Cassandra nodded, not sure if the comment was meant for her or for the baby, though her chest still felt tight.

“Actually,” the matriarch added, “I didn’t call you here only to discuss the scan. I wished to ask about Tobias.”

Cassandra’s eyes lifted in silent question. 

“His final exams must be soon, are they not?” The older woman asked, brushing biscuit crumbs from her fingers.

“In a few weeks,” Cassandra replied. “He works last shift tomorrow, and then they have three weeks for preparation. He’s been… very focused.” She nearly added obsessively so, but decided against it.

“That is as it should be,” Cecelia mouthed, inclining her head slightly. “A man’s career rests on such milestones. Which brings me to a thought I had this morning.” She lifted her gaze to meet  Cassandra’s. “It’s August. The city is stifling at this time of year, and the estate is… distracting.”

“In what way?” Cassandra blinked, thrown off by the abrupt shift.

“The comings and goings. The constant calls. Even here, there is always something demanding attention.” Cecelia’s voice was calm, reasonable. “Perhaps it would benefit you both to spend a few weeks in the summer residence. Your husband could prepare for his exams without interruption. And you could rest, away from the heat and the noise.”

Cassandra’s fingers tightened slightly on the handle of her cup. The summer residence – it was the kind of offer that sounded generous on the surface but made her instincts bristle.

“That’s… considerate of you,” Cassandra said finally, careful to keep her tone neutral.

The matriarch’s mouth curved just enough to be called a smile. “It’s a good opportunity."

A good opportunity. Cassandra set her tea down with a soft clink, studying her mother. Cecelia’s face was a portrait of calm, no trace of manipulation in her voice. Which, Cassandra knew, meant nothing at all.

And still, the summer residence was a good idea, and Tobias could use the quiet.

“Very well,” Cassandra said, inclining her head. “I’ll speak to him about it tonight.”

“Good.” Cecelia’s gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned back to her tea, as though the matter was settled.

—

Cassandra, surrounded with a pile of cushions, rested on a chaise with a book open on her lap. She glanced up the moment the door clicked open and Tobias stepped in, three hours later than he was supposed to.

“You’re finally home,” she greeted, pushing herself a little higher against the cushions.

“I’m home,” he confirmed. “And you’re awake. Thought I’d find you asleep by now.”

“I waited.” Her eyes softened as she studied him. “How was the surgery?”

“Ran long. Complicated case, but it went well.” Tobias replied, then dropped his bag onto a chair and came toward her, lowering himself onto the chaise beside her.

“Good,” Cassandra said softly, shutting her book. “I’m glad.”

His mouth tilted faintly, weary but proud. “And how was your day? More importantly, how was your check-up?” His hand moved to her belly, greeting their baby. Cassandra leaned back, moving her hand to rest over his. 

“Everything is fine. I’m fine. She's healthy, growing well. Dr. Jaasko says she’s measuring a few days ahead, but nothing concerning,” she announced with a genuine smile playing on her lips.

Tobias stilled in response, and then his gaze flicked from her eyes to their hands. 

“She?”

“Yes,” Cassandra said happily. “It’s a girl.”

The fatigue on Tobias’ face cracked, replaced with something lighter. “A girl,” he repeated like he wanted to test the shape of it on his tongue. “We’re having a daughter!” Then he laughed, almost disbelieving. “Cass, that’s… that’s wonderful.”

Cassandra’s smile widened, she took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “We can pick a name now," she offered.

Tobias blinked, then chuckled. “Just like that?”

“Yes. Now we know it’s a girl, so we can stop calling her just ‘the baby’.”

Her husband looked at her, puzzled. “Wait, is the C-name thing a tradition?”

“What?”

“Well.” Tobias gestured between them with his free hand. “Cecelia, Cassandra. Both C’s. I thought maybe House Kiramman secretly requires all heirs' names to start with the same letter.”

Cassandra gave a real laugh at that, titling her head. “No! No tradition like that. You think my mother would allow something so sentimental? Absolutely not. We can name her whatever we want. It doesn’t need to start with C or anything else.”

He leaned back, exhaling through a grin he couldn’t quite hide. “Well, in that case, I suggest… Matilda.”

Cassandra blinked at him. “Matilda?!”

“Or Tatjana,” he continued, eyes glittering with barely suppressed laughter. “A good strong name. No one bullies Tatjana.”

“Tobias!” 

“Or…. Jasmine,” he chuckled, rising to his feet, stretching as he moved toward the wardrobe with a full serious expression. But he didn't make it far, before a cushion came flying through the air and hit him square between the shoulderblades with a muffled thump, and tumbled to the floor.

Tobias glanced over his shoulder, barely holding a laugh. “I see, we’re only married for seven weeks and you’re already using violence against me?”

“Against your terrible sense of humor,” Cassandra corrected primly, though her lips curved. “Someome has to defend our child from these terrible memes."

He bent, retrieved the cushion, and tossed it back onto the chaise with exaggerated care. Then, before he could make his way back to the wardrobe, Cassandra caught his hand, making him hold her gaze.

“There’s something else,” she began, quieter now, “Mother made an… interesting suggestion today.”

Tobias shifted, then sank down beside her again, brushing her knuckles with his thumb. 

“Oh?”

“She offers us to go to the summer residence. For a few weeks. Says the city is too distracting, and that you’ll need quiet to prepare for your exams. And that I could… rest.”

“Your mother said that?” His brow furrowed. 

Cassandra nodded. “Surprising, isn’t it? Normally she’d keep me tethered to her side, and yet she wants us out in the countryside.”

Tobias leaned back against the chaise, thinking. “And how do you feel about it?”

Cassandra tilted her head, considering her words. “I think when Mother offers something freely, there’s always more beneath it, and that unsettles me. But… I also think you need the time. And I could use the quiet.”

“She’s not wrong about that,” Tobias admitted, though suspicion lingered in his eyes too. He was well aware of Cecelia’s talent for manipulation.

“I just don’t like not knowing why,” Cassandra added quietly.

“Maybe she actually wants you to rest.”

“Maybe,” Cassandra considered, then looked at him again, eyes narrowing slightly, searching his face. “Would you want to go?”

“If it gives you peace,” he murmured, “then yes. If it unsettles you, then no. It’s as simple as that.”

—

The carriage rolled to a stop on the gravel drive, the last of the day’s sun slanting across the tall windows of the summer residence. The building wasn’t nearly as grand as the city estate, it was built for retreat rather than display. Cassandra hadn’t spent much time here since childhood, but she still remembered the smell carried from the bay, mingling with the sharp air that crept down from the mountains.

The vehicle stopped, and there, before the entrance, waiting, stood Miss Obry.

The housekeeper was already in her sixties, with silver hair pulled back in a bun that never seemed to loosen, no matter how long the day was. She was a full woman with warm brown eyes and round face that was quick to crease into a smile.

Cassandra had grown up with Miss Obry’s presence in the house. Cecelia used to bring her for summers when Cassandra was little. And unlike most of the staff, Miss Obry didn’t treat her with the cold discipline her mother required. She called her dear or sweet girl, hugged her when she cried, and often, slipped her an extra tart from the kitchen and said her mother wouldn’t know.

Now she stood with a tray balanced in her hands, and when she saw Cassandra step down from the carriage with Tobias steadying her hand, her whole face lit up.

“Welcome, my darlings,” she greeted warmly, then bustled forward, setting the tray down on the veranda rail before reaching for Cassandra.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” she murmured, wrapping her into a firm, warm embrace. “It’s been too long.” Cassandra leaned into it, feeling a sense of home.

When Miss Obry leaned back, her gaze immediately swept down to Cassandra’s figure, and her brows lifted slightly in surprise.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” she shook her head. “When I heard of the wedding, I thought it was sudden enough. But I see now what a good reason you had.”

Cassandra inclined her head with a small, composed smile. “Yes.”

Miss Obry’s hands fluttered as if she wanted to touch but restrained herself. “Well, babies are never an inconvenience,” she said firmly. “And don’t you forget it. Both of you.” Her eyes flicked to Tobias, who gave her a respectful nod and a quiet smile at her warmth.

“Now, before you wilt where you stand – drinks.” She pressed the tall glasses into their hands. “Fresh lemon and mint. Go on, dears, sip.”

When the drinks were finished, the housekeeper clucked in approval, looped her arm through Cassandra’s, apologising to Tobias for taking her from him, and guided them up the veranda steps. “Come along now, let’s get you settled before the evening chill sets in. The rooms are ready. And, Cassandra, I’ve put flowers just the way you like. And Tobias, dear,” she turned her head to look at him, “your books will be laid in the study by morning.”

When they reached the rooms, Cassandra exhaled relieved as the doors opened. The housekeeper gave them both a look, like a grandmother with children she adored. 

“And remember this, if you need anything, you only have to ask. Don’t you two start thinking you’ll be a bother.”

“Thank you, Miss Obry. You’ve always been too good to me.” Cassandra smiled at that. 

“Nonsense,” the housekeeper said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“We’re grateful, truly. For the welcome, for everything,” Tobias added.

The woman’s eyes softened further at that, she gave a little approving hum, satisfied. “Good, then all is well. Now off with you both. I’ll see you at dinner, my dears.” And with that, she ushered them inside.

—

They settled into a rhythm within days. 

Tobias rose early with the sun, to study out on the terrace garden. Cassandra would join him after a while, bringing two mugs of jasmine tea in her hands. She never distracted him, just sat there, enjoying the quiet mornings. Sometimes reading a book, sometimes watching the horses on the field, tracing idle patterns on her growing belly.

By early evening, Tobias would put his books aside and insist she walk with him. They would stroll the gravel paths leading to the beach with Dobermans trotting along at their side. Sometimes they would take a swim, and sometimes just play with the dogs, when the weather was not so pleasant.

That afternoon was no different.

Tobias rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he could push back the tension. He had been hunched over his notes for hours. That was enough, he needed air, and also he needed her.

Cassandra was not found in the house, but he found Miss Obry in the kitchen, folding fresh sundried towels. 

“Looking for Cassandra, dearest?” She asked, not looking up at him yet.

“Yes. Where’s she gone off to?” Tobias gave her a small, sheepish smile.

The woman glanced up, and her lined face creased into a smile. “Out by the pasture. With the horses,” she told him. “Oh, and dear?” She added after a moment. “Take her a wrap, please. The sun’s low now, she might want it soon enough.”

Tobias nodded, thanked her, and followed the gravel path past the garden. The air outside was cooler now, touched with the evening.

He spotted her before she noticed him

Cassandra stood by the fence with her hand resting lightly on the rail. A Doberman sat at her feet, twitching his ears at the sound of distant footsteps.

The dog startled the moment Tobias’ stepped closer. He jumped to his paws, making a low bark.

“Sit,” Cassandra said calmly without looking down. The Doberman obeyed instantly, lowering back, though his eyes stayed locked on Tobias.

“Protective,” Tobias chuckled as he stepped beside her.

“How’s the studying?” Cassandra finally turned her gaze toward him, smiling faintly.

“All good, I’m done for today,” he replied as his eyes drifted to a tall brown mare with a yearling pranced beside her

“Is that Liora?” He nodded toward them.

Cassandra nodded, brushing a stray hair back from her cheek. “Yes. That’s her.”

Tobias glanced sideways at his wife. “The one who threw you?”

“The very same,” she gave a low, almost amused sound. “I thought she was just skittish that day. No one knew why. Until my mother sent her here and the foal came.”

Tobias straightened a little, eyes flicking toward her profile.

“She wasn’t meant to be bred,” Cassandra continued. “Someone at the stables wasn’t watching, she ended up with foal, and that’s why she bucked. Apparently, she was just protecting herself.”

The mare nudged her yearling then. And Cassandra’s lips quivered as her hand slipped down to her belly. 

“And here we are now,” she smoothed her palm over her own rounded stomach, tilting her head toward Tobias. “Imagine, if Liora hadn’t been carrying that foal, if she hadn’t bucked me… I would likely be married off by now. To someone Mother deemed appropriate.”

Tobias watched her only for a moment longer, then he slipped behind her, wrapping his arms lightly around her waist, settling his palms over her hands where they rested on her belly. Cassandra leaned back into him, tipping her head against his shoulder.

“Fate is a strange thing,” Tobias whispered against her hair, “sometimes it’s cruel… and sometimes it pushes us exactly where we’re meant to be.”

Cassandra let out a soft huff. Then, beneath their joined hands, the baby shifted, pressing against her skin. Tobias' hand stilled where it rested, and for a long moment neither of them spoke.

“I was thinking of names again,” Tobias murmured against her ear, breaking the silence.

Cassandra tilted her head to glance back at him. “Oh? The ridiculous ones?"

His mouth curved almost sheepish. “No, this time… I think I might have one I actually like.”

“Oh?” Her brows arched. 

“Caitlyn.” 

Cassandra let the name settle on her tongue. Caitlyn. She whispered repeatedly under her breath. The name was sharp but elegant – perfect for the Kiramman heir. She smoothed her palm over her belly again, thoughtful, as if testing the name against the life growing inside her. Then, suddenly, she stilled.

Another sharp, undeniable kick pressed back against her hand.

Cassandra’s lips parted in surprise, then curved into a smile. Her eyes brightened as she looked toward Tobias, then back towards her belly. 

“So Caitlyn you will be,” she whispered with certainty.

Tobias’ mouth brushed her cheek, his hands tightened slightly over hers, as he murmured. “She likes it too, I think.”

Chapter Text

They returned to the estate in the first weeks of September. 

Cassandra slid back into her obligations with her usual attention to details, as though she had never left, as if her now twenty five weeks belly and the new, constant throb of pain in her lower back seemed powerless to disturb her composure.

For Tobias, the return was marked by triumph. Weeks of relentless studying ended in the long, grueling exam, followed by a week of nervous waiting before the letter finally arrived. Passed. He was no longer a resident, but a certified pediatric surgeon. He hadn’t asked her to, but Cassandra insisted on helping organize a celebration for his residency group.

And now, after the celebration and first week in his new role, when Cassandra had gone into the city for engineering meetup, leaving Tobias with a rare gap in his schedule, Cecelia summoned him.

He was enjoying his second coffee of the morning, reading through his notes, when a knock sounded at the library door. A servant bowed her head. 

“Doctor, Lady Cecelia requests your presence in her study. At once.”

Tobias frowned, set his cup aside, and followed. Though it was strange, the Kiramman matriarch had never summoned him without Cassandra, well, except that one time.

But they were past that. Since the wedding things had shifted. Cecelia tolerated him now, sometimes even engaged him, but she had never summoned him in private without her daughter. For her to do so now meant one thing – whatever awaited him behind those carved oak doors was not a trivial matter.

When the servant opened the door to the study and bowed him inside, Tobias drew a slow breath, set his jaw, and stepped in.

“Tobias, please, take a seat,” Cecelia gestured to the desk. 

The Kiramman matriarch calling him by his first name was also strange, but the word please in her sentence made Tobias tense even more as he crossed the room and lowered himself onto a cushioned chair before her desk. His eyes landed on the file resting neatly on the polished mahogany surface. A thick folder with the hospital logo in the corner left no question about its contents.

“I summoned you as a surgeon first,” Cecelia started evenly, “and as my daughter’s husband second.” Her voice carried no trace of softness now.

Tobias’ brow furrowed as he glanced at the file. Too many pages for something routine. His throat tightened.

“Read,” Cecelia instructed, shifting the folder closer to him.

He hesitated only a fraction of a second before obeying. With steady fingers, he drew the file toward him, and flipped the cover open. Scan after scan, reports with signatures, CT, MRI, neurological notes. His trained eyes picked out terms quickly, but his heart dropped into his stomach. 

When he looked up, the woman was watching him with her usual stillness.

“I believe your expertise is enough to understand it,” she said with the same strange calmness in her voice.

“I’m not a neurosurgeon,” Tobias hesitated.

“You don’t need to be,” Cecelia replied. “Even with your specialty is children, your training is sufficient to know what this means.”

Tobias exhaled slowly through his nose. “This…” He tapped the scans with his index finger. “This is serious. More serious than I imagine you’ve admitted to anyone. And the surgery-”

“Is not an option,” Cecelia cut him off in a clipped, decisive tone.

Tobias’ jaw flexed, his brow furrowed. He wanted to argue, but Cecelia didn’t let him. Her blue eyes were pinned on him steady and unblinking. 

“The tests confirmed it. A cavernous malformation in the brainstem. Not malignant, not genetic… But is inoperable in any meaningful sense. The surgeons tell me the same – I have at best a twenty percent chance of surviving whole. More likely…” Her fingers shifted faintly, betraying what her voice did not. “More likely, paralysis. And that I will not allow,” she exhaled. “Without surgery, I will die,” her tone was flat again, hiding her real emotions. “It won’t happen today or tomorrow, but within a handful of years. Two, perhaps four, if I am fortunate.”

Tobias shifted in the chair, pressing his knuckles against his knee under the table so she couldn't see his nerves. 

“Cecelia… you realize what that means?” It was the tone he used only when a parent was about to make a decision that could harm their child, by refusing to sign the papers. He didn’t even notice how he automatically switched to her first name.

“That means Cassandra cannot know, not yet.”

“What?!”

“Cecelia, do you understand the pressure you’re putting her under? To keep this from her-”

“I understand perfectly,” she cut him off again, and this time her voice came colder. “This is not Cassandra’s burden yet,” the matriarch replied evenly, then folded her hands together on the desk. “It is yours to carry first.”

Tobias blinked.

“I want to remain myself.” Cecelia’s eyes sharpened on him. 

“Cassandra is carrying a child. Do you think I would burden her with an invalid mother who cannot speak, cannot move, perhaps cannot even recognize her? Do you think she could endure that, with a newborn in her arms? When I die, she inherits everything. Not only the council seat but the weight of the Kiramman name, the responsibilities of this house, and the eyes of an entire city. She will be the matriarch, the councillor, and it will drown her if it comes too soon. And I will not allow that,” she took a long breath. “She must have her time with her child. She must be free to love her daughter, to raise her, to grow into herself before the responsibility strips it all away. Do you see?”

Her words rang like thunder, and Tobias flinched despite himself. “She will want you alive.”

“I choose to remain myself while I still can,” she answered. “I choose to give Cassandra a mother who is present whole, even if the time is limited. Better a few years of me as I am than a decade of me as an empty shell. That is no gift to her, it is torture.”

Tobias remind frozen in his chair. 

Her gaze, sharp as glass, softened just enough, revealing the crack beneath. “You think I'm cold. You think I do not love her? I know, Cassandra does too. Because I have not given her the softness she craves. But everything I have done, Tobias, every decision, every cruel word, everything has been for her,” she paused, glanced sideways, then back at him. “The children we love most are the ones we make the hardest choices for,” she added softer. “You will learn that soon.”

He swallowed, but he didn’t speak.

“When I pressed her to choose a husband,” Cecelia continued, almost defensive. “It was not to shackle her, but to secure her future. Do you understand?” Her fingers tapped against the desk, then stilled. “I already knew then. About this,” she gestured faintly toward the folder. “I knew my time was limited, and I knew she would not be ready. She needed someone beside her. She needed a child… the House needed an heir,” she corrected herself, then lifted her chin up as if daring him to contradict her. “An heir. A future secured before the city circled like wolves. That is why I demanded it of her. That is why I was ruthless. Not because I did not care, but because I cared too much.”

“I have always known Cassandra liked girls.” Now her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall rather than his face. “That was never a secret to me. But I am not blind and I know my daughter well. I know that sometimes she looked at boys differently too, enough that I knew she wasn’t solely inclined one way.” She leaned back against her chair, meeting Tobias' eyes at last.

“And that was enough,” she continued. “Because if she could find even one man she could tolerate, then the line could continue without complication. That is why I pushed her. Not because I disapproved of who she loved, but because I didn’t know if she would ever make a choice on her own. If I had been certain Cassandra was solely drawn to women, I would never have pressed the issue. I would have found another way to secure an heir for the house.” Cecelia’s mouth pulled tight. 

“And yet,” she took a long breath, “by choosing you, she broke every plan I laid… and then had the audacity to secretly fall pregnant… I was furious.” she admitted. “Because in that moment, I thought she had destroyed everything I had fought to give her.” Cecelia’s eyes flickered with ice for a brief moment, but then something in her expression cracked, letting the mask slip just enough for Tobias to see her real emotions beneath it. 

“But also,” she looked away, composing herself, “I was shocked that she found something in you. Do you realize, Tobias? She rejected every noble man, and chose you,” her eyes returned to him, no longer cool, but rather amused. 

Tobias opened his mouth, but she pressed on, leaving no room for interruption.

“You must understand how important you are now whether I like it or not. And that’s why you must protect her at all costs. She must not know yet. Not while she is vulnerable. Her health and her child’s health, those are my priorities now. She cannot bear this weight yet or else it would break her,” she looked down, then, quieter, almost as if the words slipped past her control, she added. “Not after what she went through after her father’s passing. I know it will break her.”

Silence stretched between them.

“If my time comes sooner than expected… if it comes, you must be there for her. Because when I am gone, Tobias. It will be you she leans on first. You who must steady her while she learns to carry what I can no longer. Do you understand me? Promise me you will protect her.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. The weight in her words was unmistakable. This wasn’t just an order, but a real burden she was passing to him. Was this exactly what Cassandra had warned him about when he married into House Kiramman?

Tobias swallowed, and forced his voice steady. “I promise.” 

The matriarch studied him as if searching for the slightest falter, then gave him a short nod when she found none. “Then we understand each other,” she said simply. “You may go.”

Tobias rose, Cecelia returned her attention to the papers on her desk as if she had not just shifted the ground beneath his feet. The servant opened the door for him without a word, and Tobias stepped out into the quiet hall.

The oak door shut behind him with a sound way too loud in the silent corridor.

The walk back through the estate was a blur. All he could focus on was Cecelia’s voice, tangled with the weight of what she had shown him.

He stepped into the empty library, where the morning had begun so peacefully. Lowered himself onto a chair, then looked at his coffee on the table that now had gone cold. It was almost absurd, how easily a day full of peace and quiet could be replaced with a dark secret he had never asked for.

He knew exactly what the diagnosis meant. Cecelia Kiramman was dying. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not next year, but sooner than anyone could expect. And now it was his secret. Tobias dragged a hand down his face. How was he supposed to look Cassandra in the eye now? How could he face his wife, knowing what he knew? Knowing her mother had sworn him to silence? 

He pictured her face, the way she would glance at him expectantly when she returned home. How she would ask him how his morning had gone. And how her eyes would narrow if she sensed he was holding something back. Cassandra saw through him too easily, she always had.

And yet now he was meant to keep this from her. To lie, if it came to that. 

The thought twisted his stomach. He hated lying, especially to her. Cassandra deserved his honesty above all others. And yet- His mind replayed Cecelia’s words once again. If she knew… if she learned her mother was dying, would it undo her? Would Cecelia be proven right?

Tobias pressed his palms together. He had sworn to protect Cassandra, and he meant it. But for the first time, he wasn’t sure if protection meant telling her the truth… or burying it until the day it inevitably broke her anyway.