#and leading into THE IRON HUNT in noxus

[feycharm]

hey since im here, interest check: would anyone out there be into in runeterra d&d

[gxldings]

Midnight Solstice

If it means getting a shot at catching her, he would venture to the edges of the world.

Long has Talon Du Couteau lived in his older sister’s shadow. In ability, he had always felt inferior, the scar on her cheek being his permanent reminder of that fact. Though it must mean a great deal regarding her failure, to Talon its existence on a living, breathing woman is proof that he couldn’t see his goal to the end. He knows the looks he gets, from his fellow house members and headmaster. He knows they see her above him. He knows she must stare down mockingly, full of hot air and confidence as she so blatantly reveals her weaknesses to him. Weaknesses he can’t exploit, not without direct orders. So he waits, eternally in the darkness behind her (the darkness she chooses not to walk in), for the day she slips up and gives him his splendid opportunity. In this literal sense, he is the blade’s shadow. He obsessively stalks her, hoping to be granted the second chance at cutting her down.

With impunity, he would. He just needs to be told to.

In that sense, is Talon any better than a dog? Is he now a tamed mutt, willingly binding himself to the orders of a superior? What of the freedom to hunt and kill whoever he desired while scraping by Noxus’ underbelly? Is he truly a man if he would follow his sister all the way to Demacia--his country’s enemy? None of those questions must matter now, for the undeniable fact that he’s done all of this takes the stage. 

Indeed, now Talon has managed to slink through the shadows to a foreign country, journeying the long journey seemingly undetected. He hides in a brush behind a hill some distance away from the kingdom’s main gate, clinging to the slope of its surface so that his cloak may blend his figure in with the night. Katarina is long gone now, having snuck and headed for the south docks. He couldn’t have simply trailed behind the whole time, obviously, so the veiled approach proves troublesome. He’s stuck at Demacia’s border. If he peeks over his hill, he can catch a glimpse of the road leading out of the country. Good. He now serves as an independent checkpoint, having knowledge of who goes in, and who goes out. 

He won’t be going in (he’s no fool) and will simply have to wait for her to come out.

Talon likes to think to himself, about many things. When you spend so much time wreathed in umber, holding your breath in the void, your mind tends to wander. Right now, he questions why she’s done this. But that’s an easy answer, isn’t it? He’s known of her little romance for a good while now, as following her around in his spare time would inevitably reveal. It’s sickening. With how poorly she and her man hide things, it’s practically a public affair. She’s here to see the Crownguard captain. And what a waste that is. She risks her neck each time she steps foot in Demacia, and feeds a vulnerability each time she interacts with him. Scarred fingers quietly reach into a pocket, and produce an iron knife. Katarina, he calls it, the blade he’d used to mar the left side of her face. In a practiced motion, he spins it around his fingers, wondering if it should even be called that anymore. She’s careless, not worthy of a blade dedicated to her name. He sighs, resolving that if she doesn’t appear by daybreak, she’ll have been caught. Tomorrow, Katarina might be tossed into a ditch and forgotten about.

Time passes, and little happens. Demacia proves to be asleep when not even a merchant’s cart passes by Talon’s location. His eyes begin to flutter, wondering if they could snag a moment’s rest, before something catches his eye. Or rather, someone. Golden locks shine like a nightlight as they hang from a hood, eliciting silent motion from the assassin. He peers closer, inspecting his prey. It’s a lone woman, odd. She walks at a quickened pace, telling the experienced Talon that she has practice with sneaking out. He moves ever so slightly out of hiding to get a better look at her, and though he has to squint to make out any features, he recognizes her immediately. 

Luxanna Crownguard, enemy of the state--daughter of the man responsible for Cyrus’ Folly. His country wants her--and anyone with her name--dead. But Talon might have a use for her. What would Garen do if he saw her dead on the street? Would he call things off with his Noxian lover, leading her to eventually conclude that her little brother was responsible for Lux’s death? He could make it look like it was Katarina--that she went in for a quick kill on her way out. This is all technically what Talon wants, but an enraged Katarina is a dangerous Katarina. She beat him last time for a reason. Perhaps, if he takes her as a hostage, he can get into a more favorable fight. She can be convinced to duel him, where distraught and stress could be used against her. In an assassin’s world, any opportunity gained by any means is considered fair game.

Yes, that would work.

Swiftly, he darts out from his bush. There’s a gutter to her left that he can push her into, so that if any border patrol blink, they’d miss the abduction. Talon moves with the speed and elegance of a sharp wind, blowing past Lux in a flurry to grab her lithe body. The assassin’s cloak swirls around his left to blot out any vision of the scene, and the moment his hands make contact with her, she’s being pushed into the ditch. They both fall, out of sight, with Talon on top of her. The fall might have hurt, so his hand presses hard against her mouth. If she chooses to scream now, she would taste blood-stained leather and the force of a scheming younger brother. That is to say, a lot of inferiority complex. To shut her up for the rest of the night, though, he pushes Katarina to her throat, its razor edge just barely making contact with her skin and nicking some blood. 

“Keep quiet,” he hisses, voice hoarse and rough, “if you value your life. You’re being used as a hostage. Once I’m done with you, you can go.” He speaks matter-of-factly and with a serious sounding tone, but has no real intention of letting her go. Lux is just another witness, after all. She would be brought along to watch the fight between the Du Couteaus, and after its conclusion, killed before she makes it back home.

“Now keep yourself hidden. If anyone sees you, they’ll have to see you die.”

//Talon at Lux; starter for @sunsinger

[visionofnoxus]

☮ - for Swain to kill someone trying to verbally hurt Lillithe ❀ - to grab Lillithe by the jaw and force her to meet Swain’s gaze and be possessive~ (suggested setting: High command War Room meeting or High Class Social Event ) || ~♱💒🥀💒♱~ asked as @crucifix-and-the-rosary

// And here we go. I tried my hand at it. Hopefully you find it a nice read. I need to interract more with your muse to get a proper feel for her and Swain. Please do comment. Crucifix-and-the-rosary

It had been years since the last time Noxian High Command had truly assembled. It was rare nowadays, as the empire had withdrawn within itself with the ascension of the new Grand General some ten years ago. After Darkwill’s death, the ever expanding offensives in all directions had seized or at the very least been scaled down severely. Noxus had turned from raiding and conquest to instead solidifying it’s existing areas and building infrastructure that had fallen to ruin or had not even existed in the first place. The Trifarix had taken the highest executive power in the empire and it now mandated the progress in form, pace as well as who exactly was overseeing that particular project. 

As such, this group of generals, admirals, warlords and most prominent people of political, commercial and social background rarely gathered en masse anymore. There were no projects so large and complicated, so multifaceted that the High Command would had been needed to be called into session. Which made it all the more intriguing that Grand General had now called for the assembly. Rumors were floating around the gathering’s purpose. Some spoke of a new attempt at the invasion of Ionia, that the Grand General desired to correct the mistakes of the past and bring the island nation finally to heel. Others said that Noxus desired to expand their holdings in Shurima, to destroy the fledgling empire of sand before it could reassert itself. But what of Demacia? And wasn’t this meeting obviously about the situation in Freljold? The most daring guesses were that the Grand General intended to slaughter the High Command and declare himself the Tyrant of Noxus. Rumors were aplenty and any theory one could come up with, someone else had already guessed while downing a tankard of ale.

On the day of the meeting, all those influential people who had the necessary pull arrived to the Immortal Bastion. Some arrived alone, others with hordes of retainers. They all climbed the countless staircases high into the gargantuan fortress’ depths, each group eventually reaching the enormous double doors leading into the High Command’s chamber. The doors were made of black iron, the craftsmanship alien to even the eyes of most talented smiths. The ominous slabs of metal seemed like they’d just been willed into the form of doors, with no help of hammer or fire. Flanking that door on both sides stood Trifarian Legionnaires, draped in cloaks of crimson and onyx colored cloth. Their helms concealed their faces, their weapons glimmered with arcane. Through these doors, passage was only for High Command, the retainers having to remain outside. As was always the case, some did not accept it at first. Personal safety, the need of an adviser, absolutely necessary have a scribe with them… Excuses were plenty. The guards were threatened, attempted to bribe, their identity was questioned. But none who were not of High Command entered. The few who truly did not understand the message were cut down without a second thought, their blood spilling on the dark marble floor.

The inside of the chamber was a large circular room with a grey marble floor. Four tall pillars, eerily similar to the doors in that they seemed to just be singular piece of black iron, reached far into the ceiling that could not be seen, the darkness lurking above the attendees. An enormous table made of smoothed granite circled the room’s edges in the shape of a horseshoe and a map depicting the whole world had been carved into the stone at the center of the chamber. High back chairs carved of onyx were placed around the table for the members to sit down on. There were not enough seats for all, not even third of the entirety of the members, but precious few dared to take a seat. It was a statement to sit down in that table. An assertion that you held the strength to keep it and deserved all the attention that the place around this table brought with it from some of the most dangerous individuals in all of Noxus.

Grand General sat at the center of the arch, his position naturally allowing him to survey the entirety of the room and everyone in it. Unsurprisingly Darius sat just few paces to his right, yet the left remained empty. No one moved to take the free seat though, for while there was no official seating order, everyone knew this chair was favored by the Matron of the Black Rose. And she was an individual nobody wanted on their bad side. Standing up, Swain drew the attention of every single soul in the room, the silvery haired man speaking with low voice, yet each word carried effortlessly around the room. He commanded respect with confidence, directing the crowd’s attention with the ease of a practiced orator as he explained Noxus’ current state and their future plans.

Lillithe stood silently at the back, listening to grand general’s voice and dutifully following with her eyes each time he pointed at the map somewhere. The dark clad woman fought to resist nervousness, her fingers switching between toying with her rosary or brushing against the embroidery of the front of her dress. Every now and then, when the Grand General halted his speech to let someone else bring forth their case, she felt the tiniest spark of fear, her eyes scanning crowd and hoping nobody would ask of her opinion. The fact of the matter was that her position as the High Priestess mandated her participation, but she wanted nothing to do with what was being discussed. Wars, troop numbers, natural or magical catastrophes. All she could hear was the death and misery for men, women and children of Noxus, as well as the rest of the world. The idea of actively contributing to that ruin’s creation was appalling to the woman. But should they give the order, she’d follow suit and beg for forgiveness before, during and after. 

“And what of the Kindred’s hags? Couldn’t their matriarch just suck the enemy dry?” She blinked twice, her mind catching up on what had just been said. Turning to face the rude man, Lillithe saw a rough looking admiral, seated on the fringe of the table. There were marks of acidic burns marring his face and he might have been partially blinded judging from the milky white left eye. “Yes you, can’t you just drain ground itself if there is enough life in it?” The man motioned at the map, pointing the location. “And that place is just full of those freaks, the very soil and air feeding them. Why bother with mortars and such if we can just have her strut in there and turn the place into her own little garden of death? Reckon it’d go well with that garb”. While crudely worded and offensive, this proposal earned positive murmurs, Lilith feeling her legs start to tremble. It felt like she was standing on thin ice, her heels causing tiny fractures each passing second by simply being present. These people desired for her to fall into that icy death. No. They wanted her to become that icy death for others.

“I do not recall that location being on potential target list?” Swain’s silken voice cut through the crowd’s debate. Debate that had very quickly been moving towards unpleasant conclusion in the nun’s opinion. The admiral growled back at him boldly: “Yeah it isn’t. Nor was it when we went there the first time. The freaks kept supplying their troops through it anyhow and I had to go and try to deal with it while you were building your fancy trap and Duqual hunted some fishermen on the coast” the admiral said with bitterness and accusation in his voice. “And so you took some of lord Emystan’s zaunite weaponry and decided to try and bomb the village” Swain concluded, his voice dangerously soft, yet lacking any true venom for now. “Marines should fight on water” came the gruff voice of Darius. He’d not been present but knew enough of the situation. And the outcome of the operation could easily be read from admiral’s burn face. “You want revenge. And you wouldn’t even do it yourself” He concluded, the challenge evident in his voice.

But the admiral wasn’t about to let his chance go to waste and the earlier reactions of the crowd must had emboldened him. “This ain’t about revenge Darius! Tis’ bout the fact that this wench” The sailor stood up, pointing an accusing finger at Lillithe who frowned, listening with dread on what might come next. “Has can suck that place drier than a sand dune. We could massacre our enemies with barely any losses. But because she’s part of some damn cult worshiping a bow wielding pillowcase, we don’ do shit”. Everyone could see the Hand of Noxus draw breath, ready to reply in just as crude language, but a motion of hand from Swain cut his action. “I see… Lady Lillithe, would you please come closer?” He asked, the woman blinking few times before nodding. “Of course, general Swain”. For once she felt horrible about her choice of shoes, each click of the heels echoing in the otherwise silent chamber as the tall woman approached her liege, the man standing up from his seat to meet her.

Stopping in front of the man, Lillithe nervously clasped her hands together in front of her, staring straight at the general’s eyes, noting how bronze shade of his irises gave way for unnatural crimson. “I hope you pardon me for laying a hand on you, my lady” He apologized, bringing a hand up to cup the side of her face, the warm, rough fingers meeting with her smooth and cool skin. In almost intimate manner, the grand general moved his fingers to hold her chin, staring intently into her eyes. And then she felt him reach into her mind, soft but determined grip just like his hand’s, tapping into her mind. “Could admiral’s proposal theoretically be carried out?” Swain asked. “Could you drain the life out of the air and soil, as it is constantly being all connected through magic?” His voice was devoid of emotion, not giving away his opinion on the matter. With this prod, she considered the proposal and her mind suddenly took over, conjuring images of death. Nature, animals, the very earth itself dying as she took from it the life, the all connecting magic of the place dooming it to decay as the magic allowed her reach far beyond her normal capacity. Lillithe’s shoulders shook, her lip trembled as she witnessed the dreamlike image flashing in her eyes, her own personal nightmare. And then it was gone, the warm hand of the Grand General moving to cup her cheek again, his free hand wiping away her tears that she’d not even felt forming up. “I see. Thank you. And once more, apologies”. 

Swallowing down the clump in her throat, the nun shook her head. “There is nothing to forgive, Grand General. All is for Noxus”. Removing his hand, the man offered tiniest of smiles to her. “An admirable answer, my lady”. With that, he turned around, returning to his seat. Turning his attention to the awaiting admiral, Swain shook his head. “The plan is not feasible. There are too many risks and variables” He stated, a wave of relief washing over the Matriarch. “Nonsense Swain! There’s always risks in war. No pain, no gain! And what risk exactly is there? This witch” The man made an angry motion towards Lillithe. “Is fooling you and..”. “I have made my mind, admiral. And you’ve thrown enough filth around for now” Swain interrupted, his voice velvet smooth but eyes as cold as Freljold’s winds. “What a load of bull! What are you afraid of? That me and my men can’t keep our hands of the pious sister here? Hah!” The Admiral shouted, anger evident in his face at the prospect of not getting his way. “Don’t worry. I promise me and my men don’t touch the witch, we’ll walk this corset clad hag into the valley and let her drain those freaks drier than her whole congregation after mass!”. 

Those were the last words the admiral ever said, as a an arcing crimson bolt of lightning struck him the following second, frying the man alive in an instant. The smoking corpse fell against the table, collapsing sideways onto the floor. The high backed chair made of onyx-like material showed no signs of damage though, the seat as if it had been vacant all along. “Enough” Swain ordered to the now deceased, lowering his left hand back on the table, pulling on a long leather glove to cover the crimson appendage. “The target is not a priority. We can not be sure the ability would work as suggested and sending the Matriarch of the Holy Order of Kindred to an active warzone that we do not control is asking for riots across the empire”. The Grand General let his eyes scan the High Command’s members, daring someone else to challenge him. As no such fool presented themselves, he turned back to look at the map. “Now then…”.

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 15

Hello Lovelies! Here's Chapter 15 for you. My housing situation is in flux so I will keep working on this as much as possible. Please remember to like, comment, and reblog if you like what I'm doing! It means a lot to see notes!  Your playlist song: Monsters - Ruelle ❤Tragedybunny❤ Follow me on Twitter as well if you're so inclined

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

Get married in less than a week, it sounded simple enough once I bought into this notion of his. But no, nothing was ever simple, and there was one particularly irritating complication I had to deal with tonight after I finished with the Capitol Guard Commander. 

My target had been ineffective in dealing with the attacks on the black powder weapon factories Jericho had helped establish since the meeting at Solstice. They’d been dismissed as the acts of agitated citizens, inflamed by the reshaping of the waterfront district for the optimal placement of the steam-driven machines. Jericho had interpreted them as personal attacks on his supply line of the new weapons. He claimed it was likely another move in the plot against him, maybe even nothing more than a distractionary tactic, nevertheless, the Commander would be the one to pay.

The Guild ledger snaps shut as I finish reviewing contracts and assignments. Seated across from me, Inara impatiently drums her fingers on the desk, head leaned on her hand. “Everything to your satisfaction, Commander?”

I glower at the spiky attitude but decide to give it a pass since so much falls to her when I have to deal with official Intelligence business. “You know this all needs to pass through me eventually, I’m supposed to be in charge here.” I think of the meager size of the member logs again, still not nearly as many names as I’d like to see. “I’ll get us an invite to recruit from the Military Academy, see if we can find anyone more talented than an infantry grunt. We’re the only operation in this damned city, we should be thriving.”

“Well.” She shakes her head side to side as if she’s trying to decide, it’s too expressive, like a performance. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you. I’m hearing from some old contacts, someone is recruiting against you. Independents are moving underground if they don’t want to take a side. It would appear they are looking to topple your regime.” There’s an odd inflection to some of her words, again, like she’s rehearsed this.

“Damn it.” I slam my fist on the desk. I’d let myself get complacent after my stalker had seemingly disappeared. And now this, everything I fought for is being threatened.  I should have made more of an effort to catch them. “Then we recruit younger, build some loyalty from the ground up.”  I fling the ledger book adown, looking at it is tiresome.

“I assume that can wait until you’ve said your wedding vows, Madame Swain.” She grins at me, a much more natural expression than earlier, daring my wrath to come down on her. She hasn’t let up with the name since she found out about all this.

“Someday I’ll have a Second that doesn’t test me.” I push myself back from the desk, suddenly anxious to be out on the rooftops tracking down my target. “Speaking of, have you seen Lark lately? I’ve noticed a bit of hesitation to take on assignments.”

She fiddles with the ledger in her hands. “He’s with Alrich quite a bit. That poor little thing has been quite sick lately.”

“While I empathize, he’s neglecting his duties here.” I would hate to have to reprimand Lark, I’ve grown quite fond of him.

She shrugs. “Young love. You should know how it goes.”

I refuse to acknowledge the teasing tone that has returned to her voice. “Since you’ve kept everything in such a satisfactory order, I’ll leave you to continue it. I’ve got a private assignment.”

“Have fun. Don’t go getting your face bruised up again before the wedding.” I wave her off and head out into the night to hunt down my target. This one could be problematic, I’ve been instructed to keep it deniable.

Alessa Braun is a veteran of a harsh reputation. She’s kept an iron grip on the Capitol Guard even during the upheaval of Jericho’s ascent to Grand General and the purges that followed. Either her age was beginning to catch up with her or she had been caught up in the plot that was winding its roots into every facet of the Capitol. She couldn’t be easily dismissed from her position either, due to heavy support from within High Command. Gwen’s ring of servant-spies came through for me again, Commander Braun was just finishing dinner with her only son, a burgeoning battle mage,  when I steal in and conceal myself to lie in wait.

It isn’t long before I hear them exchanging heated words on the stairs. The tone of harsh whispers carries to me, but the words themselves are lost. I ponder if it is about her rumored weakness, some were saying frailty was creeping up on her even before this latest turn of events. Another tidbit from the spies tells me some of her closest staff are working to hide something. It won’t matter much longer either way. I slip into the bath, her destination,  as I hear her dismiss those attending her. She’s a soldier first and noble second, she’ll not want to be fussed over in her private moments.

She never checks behind her, intent on filling the tub, her movements slow and a bit stiff. With hands that clearly lack the strength of their younger days, she begins to disrobe. “Hello, Commander Braun.”

She freezes. “Ah, the Blade herself comes to me. How have I offended the Grand General that I am graced with your presence?”  

“You’re failure to protect the future of Noxus.” I’ve already moved between her and the door, there is no escape.

“So you’ve come to kill me for that? Because I cannot stop every act of violence done in this teeming mess of a city?” Her frustration is palpable and her eyes are haunted with grief. In this moment I believe that she is not part of that plot, but she is hopelessly beyond her prime, and that famous iron grip has finally faltered.

“No, you’re going to kill yourself for me.” I hold out one of her own personal daggers I lifted from her room when I first arrived. “You’re going to get in that tub of lovely warm water, and open up your veins.”

She starts forward, as though she means to shove her way through me, but her hands tremble so much she sharply pulls back. “Why would I do that?” She snarls, trying desperately to sound like the intimidating warrior she no longer is.

“For your son. Prove to me that you are indeed still loyal to the Trifarix, to Noxus, and he will be clear of suspicion. His magical talents could lead him to a brilliant career, but if he is the son of a traitor he will be nothing.” She tries to interrupt, but I raise my hand and with a gesture silence her. This is why they all deride me, they fear me. I am an extension of him, of his will and power, in a way that haunts their nightmares and causes their souls to quake. “You are old, your body is quite obviously failing you. Even if you lived through tonight, you would not hold your position long. Accusations surround you, many say you have been bought. Show me your loyalty, give your son his future.”

Hot tears fill her eyes and spill out. “Damn you and the monster that sent you.” She snatches the blade from my hand, and turns from me, placing it on the edge of the tub. With the water at its peak, she cuts off the tap before finally removing the last of her clothes. Even with her age, she’s maintained the lean muscle of a warrior, covered in the scars from a lifetime of battle. She lowers herself into the water with precise care, but without a trace of hesitation, I note. I cross my arms and wait, eyes never leaving her. If she decided to fight, it would at the least draw unwanted attention. “Bear witness, this is my pledge of loyalty. For Noxus.” The dagger rends the flesh of her wrist easily and quickly she shifts hands, the second opening just as efficiently.

Crimson tendrils flow into the water around her as she lies back and sighs as though her burdens have been lifted from her. I remain with her, keeping watch as her breathing slows and the flow from her wounds turns into a trickle. When at last there is no life left in her, I take my leave.

If only my next task was as simple. I backtrack from the modern little estate of the Braun family in Goldstone to the aged monoliths of Old Town, the path where I’m headed so horribly familiar. I slip over the garden wall where I know the guards have a blindspot and make it to the weathered stones I’ve climbed a thousand times before anyone can catch sight of me. The window I’m looking for is open to let in the cool night air, as I anticipated. I don’t hesitate, instead leaping through it before I let myself overthink this.

She looks up from the pristine desk she’s working at, the second-floor study has always been her little kingdom. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“Hello, Mother.” I stride toward her, intent on remaining intimidating.

“Have you come at last to kill me, Daughter?” She stares me down with that glower I know so well from childhood.

I haven’t seen her since the night of the Solstice revels. I’d been admittedly out of my element in the pressing crowd and she pounced on that weakness when she’d seen it. Her words had disarmed me, making me that small child being disapproved of all over again. Its familiarity had been awful, and to my humiliation, I’d frozen, trapped in the past. Now here I was confronting her. After we’d come to an agreement on his proposal we’d both realized this little snag. It had fallen to me to handle this and clear the way for our wedding.

“Sadly no, it’s been deemed unnecessary.” I loom over her, one hand resting on the handle of a dagger, the other removing a document from a pouch on my belt and tossing it on the desk. “I only require your signature, and then I’ll be on my way, nothing more than a slight interruption to your evening.”

She snatches it up from where it landed and quickly scans through it before howling with laughter, much to my irritation. “You want my permission to get married?”

“No, legality requires permission from my head of household. If you refuse I’ll be more than happy to remove you from that position.” I keep my tone neutral, any sign of the resentment that burns against her and she’ll twist it to her own advantage.

“Oh my dear little girl, why ever would I stand in your way? Wife of the Grand General, that’s a match I could never have dreamed of, even for Cassiopeia. Then again, look at what it has cost to get you there.” She focuses back on the document, pouring over every detail.

“Will you just hurry and sign it! I’m not feeling particularly patient tonight.” I shove the pen on her desk at her with no small amount of violence.

She holds her hand up in a gesture to silence me and I let our frustrated growl. “ ‘She comes into this marriage with no familial assets.’ We have to change that.” She’s scandalized.

“I have been living with him this whole time with nothing from you. It. Is. Fine.” I spit the words at her and my hand goes back to the dagger. This would be so much easier if I was allowed to kill her.

“This is a legal document. It will become a matter of record that I sent my daughter off to her marriage with nothing to call her own.” That would be the real tragedy, that her name would be dishonored. It is always about her.

The blade flashes out of its sheath and I bury it in the desk.  Much to my satisfaction, she jumps back a bit, colliding with her chair. “Just sign it.”

She huffs. “Fine, always so much like your father.” I feel my jaw tighten, how dare she mention him. She’s the one that led him down the path to his destruction. She takes pen in hand finally and applies her immaculate signature. When the ink is dry she hands it back to me finally. “I hope your marriage is everything you desire. You and Jericho Swain deserve one another.”

I pull my dagger from her desk. “Throw stones if you must.” I’ve already begun to walk away, intent on leaving her behind.

“Then allow me to offer you a warning instead, even though you’ve refused to listen to others that have been offered to you. The Usurper will not retain his hold on Noxus forever. You will share his fate if you remain at his side.” Her words drip venom, her hatred is a living thing, creeping about in the space between us.

“More talk Mother? That’s all you and the Black Rose seem to be capable of. My decision is made and I will hold to it.” I try again to walk away from her.

“This has always been your problem. You’re stubborn beyond reason and insist you are never wrong. No wonder your Father…” I don’t think, the blade cuts through the air towards her. I know it goes wide, I only want to scare her again. In seconds I’m back through the window, taking a leap toward the ground. I land, tuck and roll. I need to get out of here, I feel like I can’t breathe. No turning back, over the wall before anyone can see. Damn it all, she wasn’t supposed to get to me. Damn her.

To my shock, the sound of the guards being roused doesn’t follow me. I still sprint away from the house, not wanting her to change her mind. When I finally slow my head is spinning and I’ve pointed myself in the direction of a much seedier area of the city. I need a drink and a drinking partner. Thankfully I know where I can find both.

I find Draven occupying his usual table at the Maiden's Bowery, a few lovely young things surrounding him. For him it’s not so much man or woman, but what flattery you can give his ego. He waves some of his retinue away when he spots me headed towards him, full bottle of wine in hand. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He chuckles like it’s not the thousandth time he’s said that.

“I see you’re still a bastion of wit.” I drop in the seat cleared for me while his companions eye me warily.

“That’s a big word, fitting for the wife of the Grand General.” He grins widely but it fades after a moment. “Speaking of, should you be here the night before your wedding?” There’s trepidation in his voice. If anyone knows what Jericho is truly capable of, it’s him.

He watches my face, looking for tells, wanting to assure himself he won’t wake to a world of trouble in the morning. “It’s not until later. Plenty of time to sober up.” I lift the bottle to my lips and take a drink, continuing for several seconds, to prove my point.

The showman in him can’t resist and he begins to clap and cheer, encouraging those around us to join in. I continue the long pull until my stomach lurches a bit and I slam the bottle down on the table, nearly half of it gone. The room begins to spin almost as soon as I release my grip on it. Draven hoots again and roughly claps me on the back. “Well, let’s enjoy one more wild night before you’re too important and proper for all this, eh Kitty-Kat.”

I groan as he motions to the barkeep. “As long as you promise to stop calling me that.”

Bottles and cups appear almost instantly around us as Draven settles into the seat next to me. “How about I treat instead? All the questionable quality wine you can stomach!”

His enthusiasm lifts my mood and I find myself giving him a genuine smile. “Deal.” I pour a glass for us and raise a toast. “To Draven, best friend to those in need of a strong drink.” The haziness I was feeling continues to wrap around my mind and I surrender to it, letting myself float away in the moment.

I’m on my second or maybe third and an immense shadow falls over the table. I lean back in my seat, my head lolling to the side so I can peer up at the shadow’s owner. “DarDar!” I stumble out of my seat to rush at him and attempt to throw my arms around his impossibly broad chest. “When was the last time I saw you?”

He puts his massive hands on my shoulders and pushes me back ever so softly, causing me to relinquish my hold on him. “Been a while. What’re you doing in this hole? Isn’t tomorrow important?”

I huff, everyone wants to ruin my fun. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just blowing off a little steam.” I nearly fall back into my seat and gesture to the raucous crowd around me. “Why don’t you join us?”

To my left Draven snickers and slides a bottle across the table toward his brother. “Yeah ‘DarDar’ have some fun for once.”

He snorts before finally giving in and sitting. “I’ll join, but only to keep you two out of trouble.”

“Don’t be so mean.” I pout and pour myself another glass. “We’re celebrating tonight. Here’s to me, finally achieving my Mother’s dreams.” I drain it in one single drink.

He sighs. “Nothing but trouble, the two of you.”

I feel myself fading as the wine goes down my throat. The tavern becomes sweltering, and all the light and noise blur together, the edges of my vision becoming an indistinct haze. Slowly, the sights and sounds begin to spin. I close my eyes, head resting in my hand for a moment.

Draven is leading the crowd in a song. I think it’s about him. It’s an old melody all children know and every so often you need to clap. I clap loudly at the wrong time and laugh to cover my mistake. I glance at Darius and he at least seems to be bearing his brother’s antics with amusement. I try to pour myself another glass and lose control of the bottle. It smashes into the table and cracks. I stare at it, for some reason it’s heartbreaking and I fight back tears.

Darius is removing me from his lap, just forcefully enough that I comply. “Aww, what’s wrong? It never bothered you before. Back when we used to…”

“That was then. You have had way too much. Sit down and sober up Kat.” The stern tone he takes irritates me.

“Don’t scold me. I’m not a child!” I sit back in my chair anyway, I’m suddenly too tired to do anything else.

I’m being separated from a man roaring with fury and covered in blood. I think it’s his. “He had it coming. Get off me.”

The barkeep sounds at his wit’s end. “Can someone keep control of her?”

“Stay out of it!” I snap, shaking off the hands clasping at me.

“That’s quite enough Katarina.” His voice always sounds like silk, even when I can tell he’s displeased.

“Jericho!” I turn behind me and leap at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. I’m overjoyed to see him until I realize why he sounded so aggravated. “Oh, you’re mad at me, aren’t you?”