wodahn fragte: Leona/Syndra - continue the previous one? (Didn't ship it, but you're slowly convincing me; I ship Syndra with Irelia tbh)
Leona never has to wait to see Syndra. Like an opium dealer, Syndra is always available, always eager to take her in. All Leona has to do is stand in front of the fortress and a platform will appear.
As she steps inside today she swears she hears a cat mewling, but she shakes it off. Must be stress. Syndra would never keep a cat.
Strange; Leona’s taken ten full steps—
There. The crushing gravity bringing her to her knees, the faint sound of Syndra’s orbs swirling in the air behind her. Silk-covered fingertips hovering aching centimeters above her spine.
"Mistress," Leona says. The word leaves her lips now much easier than it did at first. At first, it was a title. Now, it is as good as Syndra’s name—it is her essence.
"Girl," says Syndra. "Why have you come to me today?" Cold metal against Leona’s neck—the collar she must wear within the castle. As Syndra locks it Leona feels all the weight of her position slide away. No more Chosen of the Sun. No more Radiant Dawn.
It is fresh air to a sinking woman. It is the quick sucking in of air before a punch lands.
Syndra tugs on the leash attached to the collar. Leona follows her, exactly five steps behind. Syndra takes a seat on her throne while Leona kneels before it. The Dark Sovereign crosses her legs at the knee and waits. Idly she strokes Leona’s hair the way one might pet a cat.
"I need to be reminded of my place," Leona says. Still not quite used to that yet. But Syndra will break her of it eventually, and somehow she looks forward to it.
Syndra’s leg is so close to Leona. More than anything the Chosen wants to reach out and touch it, to stroke her from calf to thigh and—
"Don’t waste my time, Girl," Syndra says. She balls Leona’s hair in her fist, pulls her forward until their faces are so close Leona can smell her perfume. "There’s something you’re not telling me."
Syndra’s mouth is hypnotizing while she speaks.
Leona licks her lips. Part of her considers disobeying just to be punished properly. Just to have her mind filled with something other than the thought of Diana—
"I spoke to Diana today."
Gravity pressing her down until she cannot lift herself, not even an inch. A smile comes to Leona’s lips. Yes, this is only what she deserves.
"You are mine, Girl," Syndra sneers. "How many times do I have to tell you?"
Syndra’s foot is before her, her heel just above the ground. And then, like a ray of light, a stab of pain in Leona’s back.
Syndra is stepping on her.
"Remember your place," Syndra sneers.
Leona feels strangely at home.