Arcane headcanons | °• Sevika •°

"we dont hand over our people"

• The Last Drop is quieter than usual, the hum of tension palpable. Sevika sits at her usual spot, boots propped on the edge of the table, a cigarette burning between her fingers. Across from her sits Fynn, a Zaunite councilman, his expression grim as he lays out the situation.

• "Sevika," Fynn begins, leaning forward, his tone low but insistent. "You're not thinking clearly. She's from Piltover. That alone is enough to make her a liability."

• Sevika takes a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side before fixing him with a glare. "So what?" Her voice is calm but laced with steel. "She's here now. She's mine."

• Fynn huffs, frustrated. "It's not just that. Piltover's breathing down our necks. They want her for... whatever she's done. You hand her over, and this all goes away. No more heat. No more threats."

• Sevika's metal arm rests on the table with a heavy thud, the sound making Fynn flinch slightly. "You really think they're gonna stop at her? You think if we give them what they want, they'll just leave us alone?" She leans in, her eyes narrowing. "You're a fool if you believe that."

• Fynn glares back, though his confidence wavers under her intensity. "This isn't about you, Sevika. It's about Zaun. About keeping all of us safe. She's not one of us."

• Her jaw tightens, the cigarette crushed out in a quick, angry motion. "We don't hand over our people," she says firmly, the words cutting through the air. "And like it or not, she's one of us now."

• "She's from Piltover!" Fynn snaps, slamming his hand on the table. "She's the reason they're coming down on us so hard!"

• "She's also the reason I'm still standing here," Sevika retorts, her voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "You don't know half of what she's done for me. For us."

• Fynn shakes his head, his frustration mounting. "You're thinking with your heart, not your head. This is bigger than you. Bigger than her."

• Sevika's lips curl into a cold smile, though there's no humor in it. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't see the bigger picture every damn day?" Her flesh hand curls into a fist on the table, but she doesn't raise it. "But you're forgetting something. She's mine to protect. And no one-no one-takes what's mine."

• Fynn opens his mouth to argue, but she's already standing, towering over him. Her voice softens, but the threat remains. "If Piltover wants her, they'll have to come through me. And trust me, they don't want to try."

• Fynn stares up at her, unsure if she's bluffing or not. After a tense pause, he mutters something under his breath and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

• Sevika sighs, running a hand through her hair before heading upstairs. She finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands fidgeting nervously. You'd overheard everything, and the guilt is written all over your face.

• "Sev, I..." you start, but she cuts you off, sitting beside you and pulling you into her lap. Her arms, both metal and flesh, wrap around you protectively.

• "Don't," she murmurs, her voice soft now. "You don't need to explain. You don't need to apologize."

"But I'm-"

• "You're mine," she interrupts, resting her forehead against yours. "That's all that matters. Let them come. Let them try." Her eyes meet yours, and there's no mistaking the determination there. "I'll burn them all down before I let anyone take you from me."