Garen knocked on the door. It was old, stout oak, bare of all decoration save a trailing inscription running around the frame. The words were beautiful, even though they looked like they'd been carved into the wood with a knife. He often wondered what they said, but he wasn't quite game to ask either of the two people who'd actually know.

"Kayle?" he asked, the sounds of his knock fading away to echoes. "Are you in there?"

"One moment," came the reply, sharp and clear. Kayle's voice was never soft; she spoke like a soldier. From what little he knew of her history, that didn't surprise him. Kayle had seen more years of war than Runeterra had probably even existed for. "You can come in now."

That was another one of Kayle's quirks, he'd noticed. She suggested, or instructed, or commanded, but she never directly asked. Garen didn't know why, but he'd brought it up with Katarina once, and she'd said it was something Swain—and her father—did. If you spent long enough in charge of something, you stopped remembering what it was like not to be.

And speaking of Katarina, Garen realised he should probably go inside. There was a purpose to this visit, after all. He opened the door, slipping through and closing it behind him. As he entered, the first thing he noticed was that the air was slightly damp. Kayle was nowhere to be seen.

Remembering what happened the last time he encountered a similar scenario, he abruptly spun to face the door. Kayle had... different ideas about modesty to most Demacians. Most humans, even. It turned out that a culture that stretched through countless millennia slowly lost a lot of its inhibitions. To her credit, Kayle had made a significant effort to assimilate into Runeterra and its culture, but there were days when she just couldn't be bothered.

Garen didn't often wonder about how he'd die, but sometimes he imagined it would be at Katarina's hands, shortly after she learned exactly how many times he'd accidentally seen Kayle naked. He dearly hoped she never found out. He heard footsteps, but didn't look behind him. Garen had learned his lesson, much to his embarrassment and Kayle's bemusement.

"You can turn around, Garen," she said, her voice as light as a dagger, skimming across his skin. There was nothing explicitly dangerous in it - that was just the way Kayle spoke. She was violent the way other people were breathing; something so subconscious that, most of the time, nobody even noticed. "I have not forgotten how much my body bothers you."

Had they come from anyone else, those words might have made him wonder if she was feeling insulted by his behaviour. But Kayle was an entirely deliberate creature; she said what she meant, and only ever that. And so, he turned toward her. It was clear she'd just come out of the shower, because her hair was still wet, and her wings were still dripping water onto the floor.

What was far more interesting than that, however, was the fact she was wearing a dress. It looked more like something Garen saw on women at balls, back in Demacia, full-bodied and flaring around her feet. He thought he recognised something in the design. Kayle must have noticed something on his face, because she cocked her head to the side, almost birdlike, and spoke.

"You find this familiar, I see," she said "I am not surprised. You have no doubt run into my sister enough times to see the similarities."

Now that she mentioned it, the bottom half of Kayle's dress what almost identical to Morgana's battlefield wear.

"Is that why I've never seen you wear it before?" In Garen's opinion, that probably wasn't the stupidest thing he could have said, but it was close. Being a little nervous about the conversation he was planning to have with Kayle was one thing, but asking a question that directly related to the relationship between the two sisters? That went through nerves and straight into idiocy.

Kayle smiled. It wasn't a kind smile, but neither was it sharp.

"I rarely wear dresses simply because I rarely feel like it. They are cumbersome, restrictive things. It is to my sister you should direct your curiosity - Morgana is the one who allows my actions to dictate her behaviour."

It was the longest Garen had ever heard Kayle talk about her sister. It was so surprising, in fact, that he almost brought the fact up. But he caught himself before he could; there were certain limits he would not cross, and that was one of them. There were many little, unspoken truths throughout the League of Legends. They ranged from minor observations to fully-fledged rules; from things like how Syndra was twitchy in enclosed spaces to never calling Veigar short. One of the most well-known ones was to stay well away from Kayle and Morgana's relationship.

After all, rumour had it that Kayle had once stared Ahri not only down, but out of the room entirely when she'd tried to delve into its complexities, and Diana reportedly still had a scar from the time Morgana had—accidentally or not—tossed her through three walls with a flare of magic. Neither of them would speak of why, but everyone knew only something to do with Kayle could draw that reaction out of Morgana. Most of the time, she was more outwardly apathetic than Shen.

"You came to me for a reason, I take it," Kayle said. It wasn't a question. She probably even had her suspicions as to why, considering he was coming to her instead of Jarvan or his sister, but she was still polite enough not to assume.

He took a deep breath. For all his ruminations on how stupid an idea it was to talk to Kayle about Morgana—or to Morgana about Kayle—his purpose here made it necessary. Garen only hoped he might survive the conversation long enough to actually get to the point.

"I need to talk to you about my sister. Lux."

Kayle quirked a brow. "I did not realise that I, of all people, was an expert when it came to sisters."

"Who else could I go to? Lux and I have the most functional sibling relationship out of anyone here, and the only others who come close are either part of the problem, or would gladly execute everyone involved if they found out. You're the only person I know well enough to raise the topic with, trust to not get the ones I love killed, and who also has a sister."

"Very well," Kayle said, lowering herself to sit on the edge of her bed with a slow, almost terrifyingly regal grace. She looked up at him, and as always, the full weight of her attention made him wonder if he'd cease to exist when she looked away. "Your reasons have merit. I will do what I can do to help you."

"You know Katarina and I are in a relationship," Garen began. It was one of those little, unspoken truths. Everyone 'knew', but as long as the two of them never offered any proof, nobody would—or could—do anything about it.

Even their respective city-states wouldn't call them out on their treason, because mere rumour was not enough to unseat the Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard and the Prince's best friend, nor Noxus' finest assassin and the daughter of General Marcus du Coteau.

Kayle didn't answer, but Garen didn't expect her to. He obviously wasn't finished speaking yet.

"I found out recently that an affection for Noxian assassins seems to run in the family. Katarina told me a few days ago that she'd caught Lux and Talon in a… compromising position. And I don't know what to do."

Garen took a deep breath, settling his thoughts.

"Lux should be free to love whoever she wants. Everyone should. And I refuse to be as overbearing as my mother is, especially not when it'd make me a hypocrite. But even if Katarina trusts Talon, and I trust Lux, I don't trust him. Especially not with my sister.

"Kat and I are risking enough, and the only reason we've been able to get through it is because we both know what we mean to one another. Lux is young, and from what Kat's told me, so is Talon. I was enough of an idiot when I was a teenager without committing treason on the side."

"I do not remember what it was like to be young," Kayle said softly. "I am not sure if I ever was. But even if I did, I could not sympathise with your plight. I am not the right person to have this conversation with, Garen, for more reasons than you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Seven thousand years ago, if you were under my command, I would have banished you to the edge of the world for your relationship with Katarina. Three thousand years later, I would have had you executed. The same goes for your sister. I do not permit treason. Not even for love. Especially not for love."

The whole time, Kayle's voice never changed. She might as well have been talking about the colour of the sky.

"The only reasons I have not reported you officially to Demacia is because your devotion to justice reminds me of my own, and because there is no duty that obliges me to. I am not kind, Garen. Do not mistake my silence for acceptance."

For a time, Garen could not speak. When he finally found his voice, his words were faltering, like a man trying to balance on the edge of a cliff.

"I… didn't know. Have you always felt like that?"

In hindsight, it was a stupid question. He seemed to be making a habit of those.

"My opinion has not changed in ten thousand years."

She said it entirely without rancour. It wasn't a castigation, a judgement, or even an insult. It was simple fact. The sun rose, ice was cold, and Kayle would murder someone for loving the wrong person.

"Something changed," he began hesitantly, placing his words with the same care Fiora placed her sword. "Once you'd have banished me, but now you'd kill me. I won't claim to comprehend your reasons, but you must have them."

"I do. But they are not for you to know."

"Why not?"

"I have never killed a man without him understanding why," she said, "and I never will."

It took Garen significantly longer than he might have liked to realise what she hadn't said.

Then, she stood up, rising like a sword drawn from a sheath. It was no more dangerous a motion than any other she made, and it came on the heels of her unspoken promise, but Garen couldn't help but tense, ever so slightly. Kayle noticed – of course she did. Something slid across her face, an expression he couldn't quite place, and then she spoke again.

"You came to me with trust, however ill-placed it might be. I will not betray it, not today. Talk to your sister, Garen. Tell her what you have told me. Impress upon her the fact you understand – that you speak from honest knowledge of the difficulties and a hope that she will not be harmed. If she still wishes to pursue her course, you can do nothing else but let her go."

Kayle's voice was distant, as if her mind was elsewhere. Her words hung heavily in the air; Garen was never very good with subtleties, but he thought she might have been saying far more than he knew.

Her attention was no longer focused on him, and he felt its absence, as if the world had grown somehow lighter. Kayle's regard had always been a physical thing, weighed down by the simple fact she had known more years than he would in a hundred lifetimes.

"I should go," Garen said, as he turned to leave. "Sorry for disturbing you."

"You should," Kayle agreed, but there was nothing cruel about it. "I appreciate that you chose not to argue with me, Garen. I would not ruin our friendship over something like this."

"What would be the point?" His voice turned wry. "Don't mistake my silence for acceptance, Kayle. I just know I wouldn't be able to convince you otherwise."

"You are wiser than Morgana ever was," she said, and he froze at the doorway.

"Is that…" Garen cut his question off before it truly began. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer anyway.

"Goodbye, Garen."

He left.

Ah, Kayle. I could write for days about the way she thinks, and why. The same goes for Morgana. But for now, this will have to do.

Shoutout to meltedjujubees for convincing me to board the Lux/Talon train (amongst others).

Yes, friends from other fandoms who might have me followed and decided to read this, I am League trash. Worse, I'm League trash and bad at League – I doubt I'd make Bronze V if I played ranked, and it's literally impossible not to.¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Those throw-away lines about incidents involving Kayle and Ahri, as well as Diana and Morgana, are actually references to stories I haven't finished yet, or never got around to writing. Maybe one day)