the promise - arcane

the promise

Promises are delicate threads woven between souls, shimmering with the weight of hope and trust. Break them, and the threads unravel, leaving behind a quiet ache that lingers like the memory of a distant melody.

maeve

voiced by angelina jolie

FOR AS LONG AS SHE COULD REMEMBER, Maeve had been a shadow in a world of light. A phantom, unseen and untouchable, save for the blood she left in her wake.

But there was a time before she became The Ghost. A time when her days were filled with laughter, her hands unmarked by scars and weapons. Maeve used to chase her nieces, Vi and Powder, through the narrow alleys of Zaun, the sound of their giggles echoing like music. She would twirl Powder in the air until they both collapsed in fits of laughter or let Vi climb onto her back, pretending to be a ferocious beast. Back then, her biggest worry was keeping the two of them out of trouble—not killing men who thought themselves untouchable.

That life felt like it belonged to someone else now. A dream blurred by time and tragedy.

She wasn't always The Ghost. Once, she was just a kid—a scrappy little thing with dirt on her face and the wild determination to survive in a city that devoured the weak. She used to believe she could save Zaun, alongside her sister, Felicia. Together, they dreamed of tearing down the topsiders and building a better world.

But Zaun had a way of turning its children into weapons, and Maeve, as it turned out, was particularly sharp. Vander once told her she could've been anything—a soldier, a scholar, maybe even a hero—if the world had given her a fair chance.

Instead, she became something far more useful: a killer.

The nickname came later, whispered through the smoky alleys of Zaun and the marble halls of Piltover. The Ghost. No one knew her face, only her work: precise, silent, and final. She was the name criminals spat through gritted teeth and nobles murmured in fear. If The Ghost was after you, it wasn't a question of if—only when.

Maeve didn't mind the mystique. If anything, she leaned into it. Sure, she thought the name was a little basic, maybe even flashy. But she made sure her reputation preceded her. She wasn't just good at what she did; she turned killing into an art. Every target was a brushstroke, every death a masterpiece.

She didn't need shimmer coursing through her veins or hextech to fuel her kills. Maeve's deadliest weapon was her mind—sharp, relentless, and always five steps ahead. While others relied on power or brute strength, Maeve relied on sheer wit, precision, and the ability to see the world as a game she'd already won.

But she wasn't naive. She knew the life she led came with a price. Every kill added another brick to the wall between her and the rest of the world. Ghosts don't need friends, families, or lovers, she told herself. And yet, in the quiet of her apartment, with only the echoes of her thoughts for company—and Meesh, her cat, though he didn't really count—Maeve sometimes wondered if Vander had been right after all.

Then there was Sevika.

If Maeve was the blade, Sevika was the blunt force behind it. Where Maeve calculated, Sevika charged headfirst, bruising the world into submission. They'd been partners once—the kind who could communicate with a glance. Friends? Maybe. Lovers? Sometimes, when the whiskey burned just right and the nights stretched too long. Sevika never asked questions, never judged, and never stayed. She didn't have to. Their history said everything words couldn't.

But years had a way of changing people. Sevika now served Silco, her loyalty bound to his empire. Maeve, on the other hand, had no loyalty to anyone. Not anymore. Not since Felicia died. Not since Vander died.

Sevika thought Maeve was a coward, a runner. Maeve told herself it didn't matter what Sevika thought. She didn't need anyone's approval, least of all hers. But every time their paths crossed, that infuriating smirk or that low, gravelly voice sent Maeve's carefully built walls cracking just a little.

Still, ghosts don't have time for regrets.

Maeve had a reputation to uphold, a city to navigate, and a job to finish. Because no matter how the story began—or where it might end—The Ghost always got the kill.

A/N: Hello Arcane fanfic. Is this my like 3rd time republishing, maybe, but who cares. This fic is a sevika x oc BUT it isn't going to be totally centered between them. I want to fit Maeve in the story naturally and not just as a love interest who is just thrusted into Arcane. Especially with the plans I have for her.