#league of legends fanfction

[tragedybunny]

Alliance - A Swain x Vladimir Ficlet

Requested by @ajisainotsuju - I hope you enjoy these boys. They gave me a bit of a rough start.

“To what do I owe the honor of being summoned to your office, Grand General Swain?” He could hear the irritation in Vladimir’s voice, only barely hidden by the other’s elegant, melodic speech. 

Inwardly he sighed, it was the Hemomancer’s usual habit to tend toward dramatics. So, while he was used to the behavior it didn’t make it any more welcome. “We are allies now. Hence you need to pass information to me once in a while.” He would never forget that night, Vlad came storming into his office, proclaiming them to be allies. He’d had a falling out with the Matron of the Black Rose and agreed to become Swain’s agent in the organization.  It was sure to not last, but there was much to be gained in the meantime. To his embarrassment,  there were other reasons to never forget that encounter, but he pushed those from his mind. “Every other one of my allies is able to manage this.” 

“Fine.” He spun and flung himself onto to sofa that was positioned next to the crackling fire, sprawling over it to take up as much room as possible. “Do you ever think of trying to make it more inviting in here? Maybe it would tempt me to show up more often.” The austere surroundings of his office had been a deliberate choice, meant to intimidate, rather than welcome. It seemed the only effect it had on Vlad was to annoy him. 

Swain had been prepared for his companion’s fickle nature. Vlad loved nothing more than to be flattered and very nearly courted before he would divulge anything. Tucked away in a side cabinet was a selection of the finest his wine cellar had to offer. Carefully choosing a bottle, he poured two glasses and settled himself on the sofa next to his guest. Vlad quickly took one when it was passed in his direction. “See, I haven’t completely forgotten how to be a good host.” 

He made a small noise that was neither agreement nor descent, but he did offer up a slight smile upon sampling the glass’s contents. Swain hated to admit it but there was a sort of ethereal beauty in that smile that pulled at him, especially now with the firelight playing off his porcelain skin. “Do you treat all your allies so kindly, or just the ones you don’t plan to immediately murder?” 

“There’s really no need to be so spiky Vladimir. We have quite the beneficial arrangement, and you stand to take all the power you’ve been desiring. We could be pillars of a new age for the Empire together.” Swain took a drink from his glass and immediately felt a flush climbing into his cheeks. Was it truly the wine, or had he been wrong to trust his companion after all? 

Vlad was staring at his glass, eyes narrowed as he seemed to contemplate it, the fire making the red liquid inside seemed to softly glow. Or perhaps he was thinking of another liquid, one that was more intoxicating to him. “Well, our dear Matron has been quite absent lately. And when I have encountered her, she has had precious little to say. I would tell you there is nothing to report, but we both know that this clearly means she is up to something.”

That was not in the least helpful to him, she was always up to some plot or another. “Then go to her, engage her, make her want to talk with you.” He ordered, forgetting for a moment that Vlad was nothing like those he would normally be able to command as he saw fit. He heard a slight indignant hiss beside him, and quickly drained the rest of his glass. He was unused to missteps and this could have been a dangerous one to make. He felt that same rising flush again immediately. “Do stop that please.”

Vlad turned his head in his direction, quirking an eyebrow. “Stop what exactly?” 

“Whatever blood magic it is that you’re attempting.”  He let his irritation show. It was all ever a game with him. Turning away, he heard a glass being delicately placed on the side table. 

With alarming swiftness, Vlad was so very close to him, his breath pressed nearly right against his ear. “My dear Jericho, I have done nothing of the sort.” He felt the other’s claw-like nails comb through his hair. Why did he allow him so close? “Now if you’d want me to, that’s another story.” 

That voice, while always rich, had become mesmerizing, and Swain thought of that first night of their partnership. He brought his arm up, creating a barrier between them. “Enough, creature.” 

“That’s not what you said last time.” Now Vlad truly smiled, a sight both dazzling and terrifying. 

He felt his throat go dry. Last time had been an error, he should maintain more self-control.  Still, it had not been an unpleasant endeavor. Without much thought, he shifted, allowing Vlad to return to his side, leaning against him. Swain let his arm wrap around his shoulder, keeping him close. He felt those perfect, icy fingers entwine in his. It felt then as if Vlad were clinging to him, trying desperately to hold on. His own fingers closed, and their hands were clasped tightly together. 

“Do not fight this passion you feel, Jericho.” Was the whisper his ear. “Let it be our secret, but don’t turn away from it.” It felt like a plea and something in his soul forbid him from denying it. This would be another night to remember between the two of them. 

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 22 - Finale

This is the second part of a double update. Well, we've done it, we've arrived at the finale. I have some notes at the end.

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.

It is terribly late. The last of the troop maneuvers in the latest campaign to the west have been settled and the war room is emptying. Several of Demacia’s allies have been all but abandoned, there is no better time to strike. Unfortunately, I had to sacrifice theatre night to achieve it. I sigh and put my hand into my inner coat pocket, feeling to make sure the small box is still there. Relief washes over me, the way this day is going I wouldn’t be stunned if I’d lost it.

I stalk out into the corridor. At least she should still be awake when I return. “Finally finished?”

I look up, startled to find Kat lounging across a bench. One of those dreadful Piltovan novels she adores in her hands, her uniform collar fetchingly undone. “Yes, but why are you still here?”

She tucks the book back into a small satchel and stands up to stretch. “Intelligence reports. I got your note and thought I’d actually stay and get them finished for once. So now we can walk home together.” Her face lights up with that small genuine smile that has become so dear to me.

I lean in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before anyone can see and offer her my arm. “It is very much appreciated.” Especially since, like everything else in our relationship, I have done nothing to deserve this gesture. It seems I have returned to old patterns of thought. I do not know why she came home, why she decided I could be forgiven, and I’m too fearful to ask. Although I had been determined to begin to make amends for my past behavior. Tonight was supposed to be the first step on that journey. Exiting the great wooden doors of the Bastion, we begin the trek home. I ignore the curious glances of the Trifarian guards on the stairs as we walk by arm in arm. The little display of tenderness is for them a small spectacle when it is between the two of us.

“Are you really determined to keep walking every day?” Her voice shakes me from contemplation.

“Of course. I’m not going to hide in fear that assassins could be lurking at every turn.” Is it bravery or bravado? I’m not sure, but either way, as Grand General I can’t be seen to be cowed. “Besides there’s one in my bed every night and that seems to work out fine for me.” I smirk at her.

She grumbles with exasperation. “If you really insist, but I’m putting my disagreement on the official record.”

We’ve gotten far enough away from the fortress to be lost in the general bustling of the city and she leans up to seal her disapproval with a soft kiss that leaves me clinging to her. “If I keep being disagreeable what will it provoke you to?”

A small laugh escapes her despite the glare she tries to give me and she leans her head against my shoulder as we continue on. The gesture has a wonderful familiarity to it, the best of us distilled into a moment. I’m struck again by the feeling that I have not earned this, her soft affections are woefully misplaced, and the box in my pocket is too little too late. I hadn’t even been able to give it to her because the Empire needed to come first, and it always will. I should let her go, surely it would only lead her to more happiness.

Walking along she lets out an unprovoked sigh. “It just occurred to me that dinner is cold by now since you probably didn’t think to send word home.” She’s not wrong and I pointedly look away from her accusing eyes. It had entirely slipped my mind. “The things I do for love.”

It’s meant in jest, but it only further drags down my confidence. How come I can never do right, even when I’m trying? “Kat, are you sure this is what you want?” My eyes widen, the words tumbled out without much thought behind them.

She gazes back up at me. “Yes, I would enjoy dinner and maybe a hot bath.”

We’ve come to a dead stop. Why did I start this while we were so publicly exposed? “No, I meant us. Are you sure you want ‘us’?

“Why? Are you having doubts?” A small bit of hurt creeps into her tone. Wonderful.

“Of course not, love.” I give her hand a squeeze and we continue walking.

We don’t speak much the rest of the way home. It feels like I’ve erred again even bringing it up. This is what I was trying to tell her, I’m not fit to be a husband to her. I invariably bring things between us to ruin. I should never have asked her to stay that night. It was weakness, not for loving her, but for putting that over her best interest.

Moira greets us as we enter, her attitude toward Kat has taken a dramatic turn lately. “Good Evening. I’ll see what Cress can do about dinner straight away.”

“Well, that’s not surprising.” She crosses her arms and stares me down.

Normally I’d indulge her playful needling, but right now I brush it aside. It is time to face what must be done. “That’s fine, we’ll be in the study.” Kat gives me a confused look but I guide her along, shutting the door behind us as soon as the lamps are lit. “We need to talk about something.”

She inhales deeply and before I can utter a sound words pour forth from her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about resigning the additional post in Intelligence. I hate overseeing the War Masons and I’ve been overwhelmed helping with the efforts to track down the conspirators. Mostly though I need to focus on the Guild and salvaging it after Inara nearly destroyed it.”

She finally pauses for a breath as I stand there trying to absorb it all. It was entirely unexpected. “That’s fine. I was not aware you had resigned.” Her eyes widen. “But I will not stand against it if that is what you feel is best.” I hurry to add.

Her relief is visible. “I thought you’d be upset. You seemed so proud of what I was doing.” More of my failings on display.

I reach up and cup her cheek. She is truly the best thing to ever happen to me. “Kat you are infinitely fearless, intelligent, determined, and capable. I cannot help but be proud of you. And I don’t want you doing something that makes you miserable.” I sink into the chair behind me and, wrapping my hands around her hips, draw her down to me.

Arms around her waist, I lay my head on her chest. Silence overtakes us as I listen to the steady beating of her heart. If this is to be the end I want one more soft, beautiful memory to carry with me for the rest of my life. I try to fix in my mind the way she feels in my arms, the scent of her hair, how perfectly she fits in my lap. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice is soft as she gently runs her fingers through my hair.

No more running from it. “Kat...I think we should separate.” I keep my head against her and my eyes locked on the floor. Gods, I truly am a coward.

“You just said you wanted this!” She snaps, unwrapping herself from me. “Look at me.” I finally dare to raise my head and find her furious. “So now you don’t want it?” She crosses her arms and scowls at me.

“I do but Kat-” I cast about unsure how to say it, “have you considered that I can never put you first?” She needs to see this is for the best.

Her expression softens. “I know, ‘Empire above all’. I can handle that.”

“And I’m miserable at this. I know I will only continue my history of poor behavior. I am a terrible husband and you will be happier without me.” There, it has been said.

“No.” She uncrosses her arms.

“But…” She puts them back around me, holding me tightly. I’m caught off guard and my resolve begins to crack.

“You are no longer allowed to make all my decisions. I love you and I will not be moved from your side.” She leans down lips pressing to mine, as passionate as ever. “Understood?”

“I just want you to be happy.” I close my eyes for a moment, lost in the feeling of her.

“I am happy, right here, with you.” She speaks with that characteristic fierceness of hers that I can’t help but be enthralled by.

I yield, there is no dissuading her, and I should have known that. “You are the most obstinate creature in all of the world.”

She giggles and kisses my temple. “One of the many reasons you love me.”

“Obviously.” If we’re going to do this, it may as well be proper. “There’s something I want to give you. Close your eyes.” I fumble about for the box in my pocket. I’d had it made while I was on campaign against the rebels to help make up for the sham of a wedding I put her through. It’d come to Moira then and she’d held it until Kat returned. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop regretting not giving it to her when I came home. My hand trembles ever so slightly as I open it, nervousness is not something I’m used to it. “You’ll have to forgive me not getting down on one knee.”

She opens her eyes and lets out a small gasp. A black diamond sits in a swirling nest of gold, two deep red rubies complimenting it on either side. “Jericho.” Her face lights up with pure bliss.

“Katarina, I love you. Would you do me the honor of marrying me again? I want to do things properly this time.” I can’t breathe, even though I’m sure of her answer.

“Fuck you, I hate crying.” Her voice cracks and I see her eyes misted over with tears. “Yes, yes, absolutely.” I fetch it out of the box and slip it on her proffered right finger, recalling her word from that day so many months ago. So we match. Those simple words that betokened the love that was always there, invisible to me in my stubbornness. “I’ll need my wedding ring back.”

“Of course my love.” I pull her tighter against me, my heart feeling as though it will burst. I’d been waiting for those words, that promise she was home for good. “I do not believe I have ever known happiness so great as at this moment.”

“Get used to it. I’m going to make you happy forever, husband.” She says the last word with her characteristic little purr.

“As you command, my wife.” I kiss the top of her head. Perhaps I have not earned the love she so wondrously gives to me but I can repay it in kind. “I love you, Kitten.”

Hello, Lovelies.

I hope you enjoyed the ending! Thank you again for bearing with my slow updates and for reading my little passion project.

I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who left me a comment or a like. I've appreciated them so much, they kept me writing even when I had rough times.

I’m a bit more active on Twitter you can find me  @tragedybunny. I don't know what I'll take on next - but I hope you will still love it.

[tragedybunny]

No Turning Back - A Draven x Riven Ficlet

Requested by @divasaorinarts, I didn’t forget, and I apologize for the long time it took. This got angsty but I hope you still like it. 

She sat alone, contemplating the darkness of her cell beneath the arena. It was not an all consuming blackness, some light at least emanated from the guard post that led into the holding area. Just enough light that she could tell she was utterly alone in the small prison.  All those condemned to trial by combat passed through these cells, but, unlike her, most did not return. They found either their death or freedom above. Yet here she was. She had bested Draven when he’d unexpectedly joined the fray against her, a moment that had caused her heart to stop. Before she could land the killing blow, she’d been dragged away by soldiers, the trial declared invalid by the interference. 

Would she have been able to kill him though? Could she have looked in Drvaen’s eyes and taken his life? They had been friends, more than friends if she was honest with herself. That was a lifetime ago, she had been a different person in those heady days as they prepped for the long-awaited invasion of Ionia. Her and Draven, pushing each other’s limits, burning with a fervor to the expand the Empire, and thirsting for the battles to come, growing closer than either had expected. 

A commotion drew her out of her contemplation. The guards were leading someone in and she froze when she could finally see who it was. “Well, well, well, look at you. I bet you think you had it won out there.” She stood on shaky, tired legs, determined not to greet death sitting on a grimy prison floor. “That’s right, stand up, let’s settle this.” He dropped a simple pack on the ground as one of the guards beside him handed over a keyring with a shaky hand. “Now get out, you’re no longer needed.” They hurried to comply, neither stupid enough to provoke the Executioner. 

The clink of the lock was deafening, and the cell door screeched in protest as it swung open. “Don’t even think of running.” In the distance, the door to the passage out slammed shut and her heart jumped, it was just the two of them, no one else would come. 

Futilely she cast her eyes around her cell, searching for a way to defend herself, recalling his weaknesses from their countless sparring sessions. She would only get one chance. With all the strength she had left she rushed him, hoping the surprise would swing things in her favor. She put her shoulder first, aiming for his sternum, planning to knock the breath out of him with her charge. 

Weakness from imprisonment and her earlier combat made her efforts a failure before they had even begun. When she collided with him he merely grunted in seeming irritation. She gathered herself, planning to sprint past him when his arms wrapped around her and held her in place. “Calm down Riv, I’m not actually here to hurt ya.” 

She looked up at him, mind reeling. The change this had taken was too abrupt to readily grasp. “You sure tried to earlier!” She twisted in his arms, scrabbling for a way out. He pulled her tighter against him. 

“That?” He laughed in that cocky manner that brought back memories of brighter days. “I had to make it look good. I wasn’t trying to kill you.” 

“You weren’t?” She slumped against him, defeated by exhaustion and confusion. 

Again he chuckled. “You’d be dead if I was.” His laughter died away and they were left standing there in silence. Oddly, she felt a growing sense of comfort being back in his arms, hearing him make light of a frighteningly serious situation. She shouldn’t though. It was all part of the life she had she had exiled herself from, the deeds she had to atone for. 

She gave herself a moment before stirring her courage to learn her fate. “So what now?” Since she’d been allowed to live, she could assume some Noxian political game was in motion and she wanted no part in it. 

“Simple, pledge yourself back to the Empire, or return to exile.” He still hadn’t let go of her and when next he spoke his voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Stay Riv, this is your home. Things are different now.” 

Those words touched something in her soul, desperately she wanted to cry out yes. She wanted to feel that it was true, Noxus was her home, it had changed, there was life here for her, with him. She knew it would be a lie though, she couldn’t erase the marks the past had left on her. One Grand General’s regime was the same as another to her eyes. The sins of the Empire couldn’t be forgotten just because a different hand wielded power. Especially not with countless warbands once again bearing down mercilessly on the First Lands. “You know I can’t.” 

He sighed. “He told me you’d say that when we planned this. I wanted him to be wrong for once.” 

She could assume he meant the very man she’d been thinking of, Grand General Jericho Swain. “Why did he let me live?” She shifted, no longer leaning against him, but not trying to get away either. 

“Who knows? He’s always got plots within plans. We need to move though, there’s a ship to Zaun about to leave port. You can go wherever from there.” Letting go, he retrieved the small pack and held it out to her, revealing the objects inside, clothes, cloak, and a little coin. “I imagine you’ll go straight back to Ionia though.” 

She could hear the grief in his voice and found herself again wishing she had a different answer. He’d always been the last person she wanted to hurt. “Draven.” She looked up at him, tempted to brush her lips against his, to see where it would lead, if it would change her heart. 

He disrupted her thoughts by finally taking a step back from her. “C’mon, it won’t be safe here forever.” Tenderly he took her hand and began to lead her from the cell. She drank it in, preserving it forever in her mind, this last touch. She knew he was right, she would return to her adopted home. And if they should find each other there, they would be enemies, each bound to their own cause. 

[tragedybunny]

Checkmate - A LeBlanc Ficlet

Request by @regina-tenebris. I’ve never really written for LeBlanc, I hope I did the Matron justice. 

“What was that you said? You were winning this little game of ours?” He didn’t answer her jab, but she hadn’t really expected him to. The Matron set the bottle of Demacian Ice Wine, his favorite, on the High Altar with an audible clink that reverberated throughout the darkened Temple of the Wolf.  Beside it, she placed two glasses and then herself, settling on the stone surface as though it were a throne. Such sacrilege, but neither she nor her companion had ever cared much for the opinion of gods. Even with her countless years, she could bring nothing to mind that served as proof they had the barest interest in mortals, if indeed they existed at all.

The light of a sparse few candles sent shadows playing all about them, or perhaps, as tradition would tell them, the spirits of ancient ancestors had gathered to witness this moment. Spirits at least, she knew from horrid experience, were quite real. With a snap of her fingers, the cork vanished from the bottle and a saccharine scent wafted from it, the wine normally one too sweet for her tastes. “Let us have a toast to us, my dear Grand General.” As she poured, her pale hand clutched the bottle tighter than was truly necessary.  “For never have I had a more worthy opponent.”  

Lifting the crimson liquid to her lips, she drank deeply, and let out a heavy sigh when the last drop disappeared. Her glance found the second glass beside her, untouched, never to be touched. With an uncharacteristic outburst of raw fury, it was hurled into the distant blackness, shattering against the flagstones. “Damn you!” She hissed, not knowing if her anger was directed at him or herself. 

Filling her glass again, she rose from the altar to approach him. “Why?” Her voice quivered with that single word and it was anathema to her. Who was he to stir such turmoil in her? He was no more than the others ultimately, a mortal who could not pry the Empire from her grasp, who never had a hope of besting her. “Why did you not heed my council for once? You had to let your hubris rule you, to demand that your vision be the only which would guide Noxus.” 

She had come at last to stand over him, staring at the face that seemed to still bear that grim scowl of his. Grand General Jericho Swain lay in state, awaiting his funeral pyre at sun’s first light. Not even her powers could change that. She reached out with a gesture that was unmistakably tender and tucked an errant strand of silver hair back into its place. “I did warn you that what you sought in Ionia would be the end of you. You never could trust me though.” 

She drained the contents of her glass and casually let her it fall from her grip. The noise of it fracturing reverberated in her soul and a hollow laugh escaped her. “Now, at last, I am victorious. Noxus is mine, and always will be.” There was no true joy, no exhilaration, nothing that she should feel with her greatest threat removed. There was only a sort of desolation, a profound sense of being alone. Errantly, a hand reached towards his face, softly stroking a cheek as cold and unfeeling as the grave. 

A screeching whine interrupted her solitude, one of the temple’s smaller side doors swung open. The sparse illumination revealed the hulking figure of the presumptive soon-to-be Grand General, the Hand of Noxus. “Somehow, I’m not surprised you’re here.” He made no attempt to conceal the contempt in his voice. Darius was never one for the finer points political maneuvering and intrigues, preferring more direct methods. 

Of course, he may find himself in need of an advisor on that front in the days to come. Ignoring his malice she smiled at him, ever so slightly. “Good evening Darius.” She summoned another set of glasses to her hand and turned back to the High Altar to fill them.  “Care to join me in a drink for our dear fallen Jericho?” He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicion evident. “No tricks, I promise.”  After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out and took it from her hand. She allowed their fingertips to brush, the touch lingering longer than necessary. One game ends and another begins. 

[tragedybunny]

Here's a small, fun Katarina headcanon:

She hates roses. She has very negative associations between the flower and The Black Rose. In her mind she blames the Black Rose for her sister's death (she believes Cassiopeia is dead) and her father's disappearance.

Presenting her with roses is as good as offering her an insult. Unfortunately Swain found that out the hard way one day.

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 17

Hello Lovelies, I hope you are all well in these times. Out of sickness and moving house, I bring you this chapter.

❤Tragedybunny❤

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.

I stretch and make a note on the report in front of me, the last of a small mountain that had occupied most of my desk, well the desk I poached from the downstairs study. I determine that ultimately it contains nothing of consequence to the Empire. It puts forward that the rebelling mages put an end to Jarvan III, a conclusion that I find open to doubt. Rebels whose very existence was outlawed in Demacia would have seen much more value in the King as a bargaining chip or at least executed him very publicly. I imagine something else is at play. Unless their leader really is the raving madman the Crown Prince has painted him as.  Ah Demacia, that veneer of justice and mercy is starting to wear off. I wonder… no, that belongs in the past. 

We should dig deeper into what befell this last Jarvan, we might even find out before the newest Jarvan. I carefully lay out the orders in a code, wax seal it, and put it on the pile to be dispatched. At my feet, Skadi stirs and makes an excited chirp startling Bea who digs her claws into my shoulder and caws angrily. Jericho had infuriatingly been proven right about the challenges of keeping the two of them in the same house. I wince but stroke her head, trying to calm her. “Come in Rowan.”

The door to my parlor turned office opens and Rowan glides through, cloak billowing around them. “How did you know it was me?” 

I look down as Skadi hurtles across the floor, a black and red blur, to collide with their legs, leathery tail whipping back and forth.  “She never growls when it’s you.” 

They bend down and acknowledge her with a quick pat which sends her trotting happily back to my side. Rowan slides into the chair across from me, tactfully averting their eyes as I move the reports out of sight. “She certainly has grown quite large in just a couple of months.”

“She’s also a pain in my ass.” Papers stowed, I pull her into my lap, which Bea mercifully tolerates. “And how are you, Rowan?” 

“Quite excellent, that hidden library in the Bastion is yielding many interesting insights and mysteries. The Mage’s Council is eternally grateful to the Grand General for the unfettered access to it. It sounds as though he has fared well against this rebellion?”

“As you would imagine. Most of their number broke and ran as soon they realized who they were up against. He’s been chasing down stray bands of them but it would seem a good number have faded back into their former lives.” Skadi suddenly tilts her head up to lick my chin, a habit she’s developed that I imagine Jericho is going to despise. To his credit, he had tried to conceal his dislike for drake hounds but it didn’t take long before it was obvious. I don’t understand why he agreed to me keeping her at all. 

“And yourself, is the recent promotion agreeing with you?” I note they’ve been fidgeting with the sleeve of their robe since they sat. Typical of life in Noxian High Command, something more is at play. 

I stand, firmly holding Skadi, and Bea vacates my shoulder. “The weather is lovely, let’s walk and talk. I’ll show you my garden.” That should be far enough from any eyes and ears that could be curious. Moira, to her credit, rules the staff with an iron grip, but Gwen’s spy ring has taught me how dangerous their disloyalty can be. Rowan nods and follows my lead out into the hall. “I hate this damned promotion! Between overseeing a contingent of warmasons and leading the Guild I spend most of my time doing dull administrative tasks.” I can’t even admit to them that Inara is mostly running the Guild while I scramble to keep tabs on all of Jericho’s pawns, allies and enemies alike. When he returns I’ll have to have words with her, she’s been spikier than usual and seems to be avoiding me. I navigate the stairs with Skadi in my arms, she still has trouble not tumbling down them, and set her down to bound along behind us. “And I still think it has more to do with earning my husband’s favor than anything I’ve done.” Summer has just settled over the Capitol and the windows all stand open to ease the stifling heat. 

“Perhaps, or perhaps your capabilities are greater than you estimate. I’ve heard no complaints about your performance.” Rowan has developed quite a few ties in High Command with their place in the Mage’s Council, and they’re not shy about exploiting that for information. 

Silence falls as we pass through the house and finally we reach my long sought after prize. The garden, now reclaimed, is an explosion of color, order carefully disguised as chaos. It seems like a wild space, a forest clearing somewhere far from the harsh steppes of the Noxian homelands, as long as you ignore the benches and fountains.”How do you like it? I didn’t want it to look overly fussy.” 

They think for a moment as we continue to stroll. “Perceptive choice. You make an excellent Lady of the House. Perhaps you can even host that trade delegation from Piltover”  

I turn to glare at them and see the smile they don’t bother to conceal. “You’re not the first to think this a joking matter. You’re just lucky I’m fond of you and won’t consider stabbing you for it. And don’t remind me of the god's forsaken mess that is Piltover.” We come to a stop and I notice Bea perched in the branches above us. She hasn’t strayed far since Jericho left, she must really feel his absence. “I know you’re not here for tea and gossip or to see this garden. What really brings you here?”

We’re finally out of earshot of the house, a small tree blocking us from view. They lean down to use a hushed tone anyway. “She came to see me. She’s plotting something, I can tell. She was making not so subtle overtures for my allegiance.” 

I narrow my eyes. She’s getting aggressive with Jericho gone, but this is more proof of his suspicions. Maybe even something that can finally be acted on. “Keep her dangling?”

“I played neutral, yes. There’s more though, I’m hearing constant rumors, she’s recruiting others. There are possible traitors everywhere, even among your own.” 

I think of all the Guild’s potential recruits that have vanished, our numbers still thin, likely an intentional move. I didn’t miss the tense look of General Talus when she promoted me, giving me rank in Intelligence I hadn’t earned. It makes sense now, my loyalty to the Trifarix is somewhat guaranteed. The irony is that the threat is from within the council itself. “Keep what mages you can loyal. And if you can get any word of her sanguinary friend moving outside his little Crimson Cult, make it a priority.” 

“Of course. And I’ll await the Grand General’s return with fervor, ready to be of any use I can.” They look down suddenly, eyes wide. Skadi is happily chewing on the hem of their robe. 

“Bad girl, stop that.” I lean down and scoop her up “Apologies, we’re still training.” I grimace, cheeks flushing. 

Rowan laughs, a musical sound that’s been said to enchant. “Worry not, this is the least of our problems. I will be in touch, dear Katarina.” 

Once I see them out I return to the daunting stack of reports. They have a strict deadline of tomorrow morning, I’ve already put them off as long as I can. Currently, I oversee our warmasons to the far west, mainly Demacia and its immediate neighbors. This intel isn’t used for direct military action, yet. We predict where they will intervene, where the Empire can use it’s warhosts most effectively. Although, with all that has happened, I imagine Demacia’s military will be occupied for some time. I can’t say they don’t deserve this with their foolish and backward attitude toward magic. 

My mind wanders to Rowan’s warning, the danger is growing and she’s outed herself as the one behind it. If she were mortal I would have slit her throat long ago. She ensnared my father, caused his death, and now she threatens my…, my husband. I look down at the ring on my hand, still an unbelievable thing to behold. He was right about the necessity, it’s been an endless task to keep our circle of allies tight and make sure his presence is still felt in the Capitol. There is the nice little reward of my critics being forced to refer to me as Commander Swain with the sourest looks. 

I pull a fresh sheet of parchment from the desk. I haven’t written lately, he’ll probably be looking for an update. Not that he’s been consistent about writing me back, it seems one for every three I write. I should really chide him about that when he returns. 

J. 

Rowan came to see the garden today. He had some words of wisdom on its care. I’m hosting Argos and his new companion for dinner, let’s see if she’s more entertaining than the last. Bea is well, she’s adjusting to Skadi quite nicely. Noxus celebrates your triumphs and I’m confident you will bring a decisive end to these rebels soon. 

K.

Seemingly nothing but domestic babble, I trust him to know what I mean. Rowan came with information, Argos is still loyal, and I’m still managing everything as he would like. I keep them brief since I know he’d prefer to not have excess information to sift through. I tuck it into an envelope and set my personal wax seal on it. One perk of my position in Intelligence is being able to send my letters with official military dispatches. 

There was never any doubt that Jericho’s Warhost would crush the rebellion. While not as legendary as the Trifarian Legion, it would be foolish to underestimate it. Really any army could have sufficed with him at its head. I have to admit, I regret I didn’t get to join this campaign. I’d rather be at his side, slitting throats for him, than here reading reports. Damn it, I really miss him. Even if he manages to keep things between us nebulous still. It doesn’t change how I burn for him to be back home beside me.

I need to take a trip to Guild Headquarters tonight. All these emotions have become like waves battering the side of a beleaguered ship, leaving no peace in their wake. I need some good old-fashioned bloodshed to clear my mind and still my heart. When the last report is read and my dispatches are properly sealed and bundled for the morning, I head to my room and ready myself for the hunt. Armor and daggers in place, I head for the stairs, leaving via the window seems awkward now that I’ve become so inexorably tied to this house. Moira is overseeing some grand cleaning endeavor in the hall and I nod as I pass her only to catch a scathing look she too slowly tries to erase. I inhale sharply, and here I thought we were having a pleasant armistice. “Yes?” I snap and regret the momentary loss of control. She hesitates and I temper my tone. “Did you have something you wished to say?”

Finally, after another breath, she lets it out. “Well, the staff was just confused as to why we weren’t informed the Grand General was on his way home.”

I narrow my eyes, it can’t be. “Are you sure about this?”

Her face pales, the implications dawning on her. “Y-yes, the word is all over the city today.” Of course, I’ve been sequestered all day with damn reports. “The army turned east some time ago, engaged in a battle, and is now closing in on the Capitol.” 

“I see.” God’s how embarrassing, to be so in the dark. That must be what Rowan was meaning. I swear I’ll repay him for this oversight. “Well, now we all know.” I turn and walk away, leaving her with a word still on her lips, desperately hiding how much it stings to be forgotten. How was he so thoughtless? Nevermind, it must have been a mistake. We’ll laugh it off once he’s home. 

Even telling myself that doesn’t quiet the nagging accusations in my head, but the Guild has the cure I seek. There’s a certain diplomat who’s been acting as a second rate spy. The nerve, coming here and thinking you get away with a half-arsed espionage attempt. This is Noxus, if you’re going to spy, you had better excel at it. This is the one I’ve decided to handle personally.

Inara had laughed and asked if I was still sharp as I left, but the jab felt hollow, and I ended up rolling my eyes and walking away. One benefit of Jericho’s unexpectedly imminent return is that’s something I’ll be able to handle. As it turns out, I don’t have to worry about being sharp, my quarry is likely to provide a laughably small amount of challenge. One look through the window I’m perched at reveals a man of ridiculous girth. The only challenge will be making this somehow appear accidental.  Despite the reputation of Noxian diplomacy, the outright murder of a foreign agent, even a known spy, would be considered bad form. 

His bulk spills over the side of the chair he’s seated in, alone in a room with the lamps turned down low, pouring over some document. I try to analyze my possible approach, how I should navigate this, but with all that just transpired, my patience has run out. I slide the window open, not even trying to quiet it as it gives a keening whine, who needs a plan. I draw a dagger and I’m inside and behind him before he even reacts to the noise. “Writing a little note home?”

He’s been trying to turn to catch the noise, and he comes face to face with me. I give him a predatory smile. “M-Madame, C-Commander!” He stammers, eyes wide with dawning understanding. He opens his mouth, no doubt to scream for help. 

I silence him with a blade to his throat, freezing him in an awkward pose with his head turned toward me.  “That’s the problem with the position I find myself in. Now you all know me, and each and every one of you thinks to beg me for mercy. Well, I have none, especially not tonight.”

“Please...please.” His voice squeaks as I press the dagger harder against his throat. Another for tears and cowardice it would seem. How dull.

“What did I just say?” Forget accidents, forget political ramifications. Vision fading to red, I drag the blade across his throat; forget who I’m supposed to be. “You really should have screamed for help when you had the chance.”

I dodge the spray from his severed veins and watch him meekly make his exit from this life. There is no satisfaction though, no blissful relief from my own inner turmoil, just a hollow tiredness. Resigned, I leave him to be found, too late to cover my work.  I make my way back home, running the rooftops in yet another desperate attempt at settling myself. Below me, the city pulses with life, even at this late hour, as work and leisure never cease among the endless denizens of the Capitol. It does come, just a bit, a little serenity in the noise and motion, as leap one edge to the next, and climb every height in my path. It feels so familiar,  I almost expect my long gone stalker to appear, steps haunting mine. It’s fleeting though and vanishes all too soon. I sigh as the seriousness of what I’ve done finally catches up to me with my now clear head. This blatant murder could reverberate throughout our allies, undermining so much diplomatic work. It was reckless and rash and I should have known better. Even worse, I know he'd be disappointed. I berate myself the rest of the way home.

 I think longingly of the bottle of wine sitting on my desk, temptingly untouched. Since nothing else has managed to soothe me I could just drown it all. That’s likely to cause me further troubles though, I haven’t forgotten the disaster the night before our wedding. It’s still waiting for me when I return home, along with an eager little drake hound that demands my immediate attention with her high pitched chirps. With her scooped up in my arms, affectionately nipping my fingers, I leave my temptations behind for bed. I need to regain control, I’ve ceded so much of it to Jericho over time, and now my own emotions are spiraling dangerously. I almost laugh at the thought, embracing that lack of control has defined me for so long now. I yawn, there will be time for deep thoughts tomorrow.   

The hour is late by the time Skadi is happily tucked into her own little bed in the corner and I crawl into mine, which feels so very empty with just me in it. Painfully sober and finally admitting to myself I’m bitter at Jericho’s neglect, I fall into a fitful, brief sleep. Some nightmare haunts me, someone in the shadows hunting me, a flock of ravens, a woman’s laugh, cold and cruel. I’m ripped from the senseless cacophony by a less than impressive growl from across the room. “Go back to sleep, it’s still night.” A noise comes from Jericho’s private parlor beyond the door and with a final small growl, Skadi shoots into the darkness before emitting her tiny roar. 

“Cease that you little beast.” Oh, no. Hurriedly I leap from the bed, rushing to the other room to find a single lamp lit and Skadi with her teeth locked around Jericho’s ankle. My heart leaps into my throat, my irritation forgotten. He’s home. He glowers down at her while her too small teeth fail to pierce the leather of his boot. 

“Bad girl, stop.” I can’t help the slight laugh that escapes me as I bend down to pry her off her target. The sight of her determinedly trying to maul him is too much. With her squirming about in my grasp, I stand back up, and my laughter quickly dies in my throat at his dark expression. “Sorry about that.” My mouth feels dry.

“I thought you were supposed to be training her.” It’s not harsh or cruel, but cold and detached. He moves past us without another word, into the bedroom. 

“I am, she’s still young.” I trail behind him, elation dissolving, my heart sinking. “I wasn’t expecting you home. You didn’t write to let me know.” 

He goes about the room, turning the gas lamps on, throwing a harsh brightness over everything. “I sent word to High Command. I assumed it would be relayed to you.” His tone indicates he didn’t concern himself over it. He pulls the chair back from his desk and drapes his coat over it, again sparing no words for me as I stand there awkwardly. Even Skadi has gone still at the grim atmosphere.

“Well, it didn’t.” He sits and starts sorting through the papers stacked neatly in front of him. “I take it you’re intending to work?” The sun hasn’t yet pierced the horizon. 

He nods, not looking my way. “There is much to be done. I’ll expect a report of anything you find pertinent.” 

“Right.” I take Skadi and retreat down that narrow passage to my room, to a bed I haven’t been exiled to in so long. Fighting to breathe, cheeks burning, and eyes stinging, I lay in bed and pull her close. That was so much the Jericho of old, the cold possessive man who saw me as an asset, a tool.  It was like there was nothing there of the man who’d held me close on our wedding night and called me wife so softly. 

What did you think, foolish girl, that he cared for you? Do you never learn? He got everything he wanted from me, the Guild, my position in Intelligence, and a wife to manage his interests in his absence. He no longer needs to maintain his charade. I feel the tears threatening to spill over and I smother them. No, he’s taken everything else, he can’t have them as well. 

[tragedybunny]

Inspiration for Writing Katarina

As I’ve gone through the process of writing my multi-chapter fic, The Blade’s Edge, I feel like I’ve drawn inspiration from Geneviève Bujold’s portrayal of Anne Boleyn in Anne of the Thousand Days. I’m drawn to the idea of this woman who is intelligent, cunning, ruthless, and is relentless in her pursuit of that which she decided should be hers. At the same time there is a vulnerability there, she keeps her softer side hidden and is capable of brilliant flashes of anger. And those she loves, she does so with every bit of her heart and soul. She gives herself entirely over to that love. 

So, that’s how Tudor period films and League of Legends fanfic intersect in my head. 

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 16

Hello Lovelies - I'm trying to stick with this despite everything. I'm considered essential industry so I'm still expected to report for work. It's a little scary at times. I would greatly appreciate any comments you have to let me know people are still enjoying this story.

Playlist Song:

John Mayer - Half of My Heart  

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.

“Jericho!” She turns and flings herself at me, arms constricting around my neck, face buried in my shoulder. Her obvious joy at my appearance throws me off guard and I don’t respond to her. “Oh, you’re mad at me aren’t you?” That joy dissipates into sullen sadness.

I wrap one arm around her and run my hand through her hair, willing her to remain calm. Most of the patrons have wisely elected to ignore me coming to collect my drunk bride to be. Still, it’s not unwelcome to have Darius looming about discouraging them. “Of course not. I just didn’t know where you’d been tonight.” I had, in fact, been furious when Darius’s messenger reached me and I’d had to traverse all the way down to the slums to get her. Saying that to her now would accomplish nothing but upsetting her further.

So I lead her outside to the waiting carriage, Darius accompanying us. As if on some celestial cue, rain starts to shower down, threatening to soak us on top of everything else. I turn to Darius. “Thank you for sending for me. And for taking care of her until I got here.” Kat pulls out of my grasp and starts slowly meandering toward the carriage.

“She’s…” He considers his words for a moment. “She’s a real mess right now.” He doesn’t need to give voice to his concern, it’s plainly evident.

“I’ll take care of her.” For once it’s a promise I mean in all sincerity. He nods and turns back toward the tavern, presumably on his way to handle Draven. He’s a better man than I, keeping watch over those important to him. Kat’s come to a stop outside the carriage and I go to her, putting my hands on her shoulders, intent on getting her inside out of the rain.

“I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” I freeze. I’ve never known her to sound like this, like a small child on the verge of tears.

Am I the cause of this? I coax her to turn and face me and pull her close. “No worries Kitten, let’s just get home.”

“But if I’m too much trouble you won’t want me around anymore.” Have I somehow given her this notion?

She sniffles and I fear she’ll burst into tears. For once I’m at a loss for a course of action, I want to stop it, but I know not how to soothe her feelings. “Why ever would you think that?”

She shrugs, her head now laying against my chest. She feels like ice against me and I wrap my coat around her as the rain continues to beat down on us. “It happens.”

Damn it, Soreana. I shouldn’t have sent her to deal with her mother. I thought perhaps it would have gone smoother without my involvement. I should have just forced her compliance and left Kat out of it. I stroke my hand along her back. “It is raining, it is late, and you are very drunk. You need to go home and get some sleep.” I kiss the top of her head, unsure if I’m doing the situation any good. “All else can wait until the morning.”

She doesn’t respond but she’s pliant as I lead her to the carriage and help her in. She immediately gets as far from me as possible, leaning against the far wall. As we lurch forward, she curls in on herself, still looking terribly despondent. “Is there something I can do?”

She pulls her hand through her hair, more violently than usual, and shakes her head. “No.”

“Let me try.” There has to be some way to reach her.

“Why? It’s not like you care!” Her head snaps toward me, eyes flashing, as she flings the words in my direction.

In that sudden transformation from sadness to fury, I’m taken unawares and react by instinct, her words cutting me as deep as one of her daggers. “Of course I do!” There it is, the forbidden thought, given voice and brought to life. It feels like something living, permeating the space between us. She at least yields and moves closer, leaning on me as I hold her. “I mean that, Kat.”

I told myself at the very beginning of all this that I would not become attached to Katarina. We would have a mutually beneficial arrangement and nothing more. That illusion was shattered that fateful night when I believed I had driven her away. I don’t even like to contemplate what it would have been like to go to her room and find she had actually gone. Somehow though, that was not the case, she had chosen to stay. Ever since then I’ve had to confront the truth, that I had failed to remain detached as I had so carefully planned.

That is really what brought on this whole marriage idea. She doesn’t need me, she never did, I deceived her into believing that. Once I leave to handle this rebellion, it is only a matter of time before she figures that out. If we are married though, she may be more inclined to stay. So I will do what I must. I can’t let go of her, and I know of no other way to keep her.

She makes a little contented noise and tightens her arms around me. If nothing else, the storm seems to have calmed and my little Kitten is happy for the moment. It doesn’t take long for her to find that place somewhere between sleeping and wakefulness. I fully expect there to be fall out from tonight, but at least we have this moment. Once we’re home, I tuck her into bed, letting her wrap herself around me once we’re both under the covers.

It’s barely past dawn when I have to leave her and I find myself regretting it. I had told myself that even though it was our wedding day, the Empire continued to need governance. In truth, I could have made arrangements that would have given us more time together. Deep down, I hadn’t wanted it to seem a thing of great import, particularly when I had downplayed it so heavily to her.

It’s frustrating to feel that I’ve botched this whole situation from the start. And so that evening, I find myself in the study, perched over the table for once clear of maps and battle plans, awaiting the Magistrate’s arrival with no small amount of dread. Kat is still upstairs, doing gods know what, so I’m left alone with my thoughts and more emotions than I particularly care for.

Feeling restless, I lift the cover of the little wooden box before me. Inside, on a velvet bed are two gold rings, each cast with my adopted house sigil of a raven in flight. They had been a last minute idea when she’d said yes, but it brought all of this into a concrete sense of reality. All things considered, they had turned out decent enough and I did hope she was pleased with the gesture. Where was she anyway? There are times I’m amazed she ever manages to assassinate any of her targets since she can seemingly never be on time.

There’s a light tapping at the door, which is of course not Kat. “Enter.” Face austere, eyes never locking with mine, Moira enters. “Yes.”

“Is there anything you require before the Magistrate’s arrival?” She maintains that neutral expression, even though her feelings on the matter at hand are known to be less than positive.

I’ve known Moira the majority of my life. She’s not much older than I am and she began her service here when she was just a girl. She’s been fiercely loyal to me and of all the household staff, she’s the one I trust. “Yes, could you please see what’s keeping Madame Katarina.” This has been the only issue between us in all these years. It is time for resolution.

Her expression darkens. “I will inquire but…” And it begins.

“But what?” I challenge her.

She stands fast instead of retreating. It would be admirable if it were not above her station to do so. “With all due respect Sir, you are familiar with her temperament. She will do what pleases her.”

I inhale a sharp breath, I had hoped it wouldn’t get this far. “It is not your place to have opinions on her behavior, Moira.” My tone’s harsh, it is time for her to accept Kat’s place here.

Instead of letting go, she goes even further beyond her place, pushing the boundaries of my patience. “She is a petulant child. She’s a scandal. She…”

“Moira!” I bark, cutting her off, that is more than enough. “She will be my wife before the sun sets. It is time she was given the respect due to her. I will tolerate nothing else. Is that understood?”

The choice is her’s to make. She gains control of herself, casting her gaze downward, returning to the dutiful servant. “Very well, Sir. I will go see to her.” She turns and leaves without another word. I am relieved she chose her position over her opinions. She’s been thorny about Kat from the start, but she does keep the household running smoothly, and it would be a tough task to replace her.

Kat burst through the door not long after she leaves, eyes telling me my message was relayed in a less than pleasant manner. She looks remarkably well given the events of last night. Does she remember what was said between us? “Satisfied? The Magistrate hasn’t arrived yet and you felt the need to send her to fetch me.” She doesn’t have her hair up and it’s become a messy scarlet halo around her, very fetching.

Ah, but now she’s mad at me. “I didn’t want us getting delayed. And please, learn to get along with Moira, you’ll need her when I’m gone.” I catch her hands just as she starts to make an angry gesture. “I know, I’ll speak with her before I leave.” I make note that she’s wearing an entirely new dress, emerald green trimmed in ebony. It exudes a sense of softness that’s out of the ordinary for her, an almost ethereal quality. Its meaning doesn’t escape me, it’s her wedding dress, she chose it specifically for today. Before now I could likely count on my one hand the number of times I have felt guilt for my actions, and now it threatens to devour me. None of this is properly done. “You look exquisite, it brings out your eyes.” I kiss her cheek, still holding her hands in mine.

I’ve stolen her momentum and I can watch as she gives up on her annoyance. “Thanks.” She smiles that slight, almost shy smile that tells me a compliment has truly pleased her. “Fine, I’ll try.” She concedes and returns my kiss.

“There’s something I wanted to show you before the Magistrate arrives.” She lets me lead her to the table where I pause for a moment, suddenly doubtful this idea will appeal to her. After a moment’s hesitation, I hand her the box, still unsure. “I thought they would make it a little more official.”

She lifts the lid and I await her judgment. “Really? You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” She sounds pleased and I can finally breathe. Excitedly she plucks hers out from the box and slips it onto her left finger. She stares at it for a moment before pulling it off to move to her right. “So we match.” My throat goes dry.

At last, the tapping at the door as the Magistrate announces himself relieves the situation. A slight little man, drowning in his robes of office, he shuffles in with no pomp about him. He’s almost a comical sight, but he’s known for his discretion. I am not strictly trying to keep this secret, but also I do not want my personal life to be a public spectacle. Not that we’ve ever managed to avoid that before now. He inclines his head toward me. “Good evening Grand General.” He turns to Kat, offering her the same respect. “Madame. I understand you wish for brevity, I will review your documents quickly and then we will begin.”

“You’ll find everything in order.” I gesture to the small pile that awaits him on the table; Soreana’s hard bought permission, a family lineage guaranteeing we are not too closely related, and our personal financial arrangement. He’s only been at it a minute or so before Kat is looking restless. I take my place next to her and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You will never learn patience, will you?” I lean down and whisper in her ear.

“It took you this long to realize that? So much for all that vision.” She nips my earlobe temptingly as she whispers back at me.

“Hmm, my vision is showing me having to teach my wife a little discipline later.” She bites her lip and shivers a bite. Let that thought sit with her.

“All seems to be adequately in order.” He lifts his gaze from the papers before him. “Shall we begin?”

“With all haste.” Kat and I turn to face one another and without thinking I reach to take her hands. Looking into her eyes, I’m unsettled all over again about this, but there’s no stopping what I’ve started.

“Absolutely. Do you, Jericho Swain, pledge your troth to Katarina and wherefore you shall bring her into your home as your true and only wife?”

“I so swear it.” I give her hands in mine a small squeeze. She does deserve more than this hurried, barely thought out, covert sham. How did it come to this? Again that guilt I cannot seem to shrug off, it could have been different.

“Do you, Katarina Du Couteau, pledge your troth to Jericho and wherefore you join yourself with him as your true and only husband?”

My breath holds still in the silence that follows. “I so swear it.”

He gestures at the box still open before us. “You may exchange rings if you wish.”

I gingerly take Kat’s from the box and place it on her proffered finger. The sleeve of her dress slides down her wrist and I’m confronted with that faded handprint that still mars her pale skin, a reminder of my other sins. I relive that night so often; that fear she tried to hide, but her eyes exposed. “You’re hurting me!” I shamefully lost control of the demon and worse could have happened. Have I kept my promise to do better?

Wordlessly she takes her turn, slipping my ring on and giving me a small smile. I should make this up to her, this whole stupid debacle. Mayhaps I should even let her go, at last, to give her the freedom I promised her. Once I’ve put down this rebellion and come home.

“I now declare you…” He’s cut off as Kat ambushes me with an eager kiss, teasing me with her tongue slipping into my mouth. He clears his throat. “Your signatures if you please.”

With ink applied to parchment, we’re officially wed, and it still does not sit right with me. The Magistrate briskly packs and with a final inclination of his head takes his leave. The door’s hardly shut behind him and Kat wraps herself around me. “We should go upstairs and celebrate, husband.”

I fear I will be undone by that word on her lips. I crush her against me and bury my face in her neck, digging my teeth into her skin to urge on those sweet little noises she makes. “If that is what my wife desires.”

I don’t give her time to answer but catch her up in my arms and sweep her off her feet, kissing her again. The sound of yet another tap at the door irritatingly interrupts us. “Yes.” I grind out, reluctantly setting Kat back down.

Moira at least has the decency to look apologetic. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, Sir, Madame, but there has been a delivery.” I gesture impatiently for her to be out with it. She hesitantly holds forth a note. “Madame Du Couteau has sent a wedding gift. You had best come and see.”

“What did she do?” Kat snaps, charging out of the room followed closely by Moira who valiantly tries to calm the storm. Dread filling me for whatever stunt Soreana has conjured up, I trail them.

Up ahead in the great hall, Kat lets out a yelp of surprise and that speeds me along. Coming out of the hallway I find her kneeling on the stone floor, Moira and another servant around her. “Aren’t you a sweet baby?” She coos to something in her arms that is hidden from me. I reach her side and, gods help me, it’s a drake hound pup. I despise drake hounds, they are noisy, ill-tempered, stubborn beasts.

The leathery skinned pup wriggles about even more at her words, black tongue lapping at her face. “You are precious.” Finally, she turns her gaze up to me as if just noticing my presence. “Look, Jericho, mother sent me one of her pups. It seems strangely kind of her.” Hardly, I’ve made no secret of disdain for them, Soreana likely knows of it. She stares down at the little fiend in her arms, enchanted.

“Kat, you know the amount of work that goes into the keeping a drake hound.” She needs to see sense on this matter.

“Obviously, I grew up with them.” She continues to blithely snuggle it.

“I don’t think…” How am I to put this to her?

The elation visibly drains from her. I am going to utterly ruin our wedding day all thanks to her miserable bitch of a mother. “I know, I can’t keep her. She’s too much work and she’ll make a mess of the house.” She pouts, not the dramatic playful pout I know so well, but with real dejection. “I just want your promise that she will be properly trained. If it would mean that much to you, you should keep her.” It very near causes me physical pain to say that.

Her mood brightens back up instantly. “You mean it?” I nod, fearing I won’t be able to make the words leave my mouth. She leaps to her feet, still cradling it. “Thank you.” I’m rewarded with a quick kiss and then the beast is abruptly thrust into my arms. “You two should get acquainted, scent is how they bond with their pack.”

Despite my instincts, I hold fast to prevent the squirming mass from dropping to the floor. “Just don’t let her chase Bea. She’ll have to adjust as is.” It continues to scrabble around, whimpering until Kat thankfully relieves me of it.

“Let’s get you settled in upstairs where I can keep an eye on you.” If I believed in gods I would tell you they had truly abandoned me. She heads for the stairs and turns back when she realizes I haven’t followed. “Are you coming? I still intend to have that celebration with you.”

“Right behind you.” I hurry behind her. I suppose if nothing else, I’ve done at least one thing today that made her happy.

[tragedybunny]

Some thoughts on why I don’t like Katarina/Garen as a ship

This sort of stems from thoughts about Katarina’s character from the story I’ve been working on and it isn’t meant to be a personal attack on anyone who ships them.

The ship and the cannon lore about it date back to when Demacia were the clear “good guys” of League and Noxus were the “bad guys”.  So to me it’s always contained this element that Kat is some sort of poor misguided woman who needs Garen to come along and save her from the evil ways that have been thrust upon her.

I hate that. She doesn’t need to be saved. What do we know from the current updated lore? While she may have lost her father’s confidence she is a very accomplished and talented assassin who relishes what she does and serving her Empire.  There’s even an indication she may have been involved in whatever happened to her father. When Swain takes a soul fragment from her in game one of the voice lines is “Do they know who killed your father, or do they still blame me?” Her father was a legendary assassin in his own right, if she was the one that killed him, that’s quite a feat.

Speaking of Swain, in the short story “Message on a Blade’s Edge” Katarina is working for Swain. While her target in the story says the Trifairx sent her, Kat at the end exclusively mentions Swain. So the visionary leader of Noxus uses her as an assassin, that speaks highly of her skills, and her loyalty to Noxus.

In Noxus it would appear that being an assassin has no stigma attached to it and in fact it appears to be a regular function of the military. Her father was a General who brought her to the front lines for the purpose of state sanctioned assassinations. In the Legends of Runeterra card game it looks like she is quite experienced joining in military campaigns.  Her occupation is nothing to be ashamed of in the Empire. Also, I’d like to reiterate, she seems to enjoy what she does quite a bit.

Where would that leave Kat/Garen as a ship? He “rescues” her from a life of assassinations? What then? Do they go back to Demacia? To me it ends in a terrible cliché of her realizing how “wicked” she’s been and Garen “redeems” her. There’s nothing for her to do at that point but get married and be his wife. Demacia certainly is going to be so open about assassinations, given the current lore I don’t doubt they happen, but probably much more secretively. I can’t see Garen being chill with her doing that. So she loses her career, her home, the respect she’s earned from the leadership of her country and gains what? A man? I don’t know, it just seems like it makes her somehow lesser, somehow not a fully realized person in her own right. It reduces her to a war prize, a reward for Garen’s “justness” and “rightness”

[tragedybunny]

This pretty much is 110% the look I have in my head when I write about Katarina all dressed up for a formal occasion. I’m honestly really excited to see something that fits the aesthetic I envision so well. Swain is lucky - he has the hottest wife. 

Dress - Alexander McQueen Fall 2020. Source [X]

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 14

Happy Valentine's Day! I have been pushing myself to get this chapter out on the day of love! As always your playlist song:

Like A Prayer

❤TragedyBunny❤

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.

Thunk. The dagger hits the target, perfectly dead center. I’m hanging upside down from a ceiling rafter, throwing at targets scattered around the room, concentrating despite the dizziness starting to make my head spin. Behind me, I hear the whine of the opening door. None of the servants would dare interrupt me, not even Gwen. “Kitten, are you still not talking to me?”

I listen to his steps as he draws closer to me. I glance to my right and let a dagger fly in his direction. It buries itself in the wall next to him, he doesn’t flinch. “I’ll take that as yes.” We both know that I wasn’t actually aiming at him. He sighs, now the negotiating starts. “How about we go to the theatre tonight and then to that little cafe you like so much?” 

I throw a blade at another target and ignore him. I want to see what concessions he’s willing to make. “I’ll buy you something shiny.” Hmm, there are a few pieces at the jeweler’s that I’ve had my eye on.

I throw again, another perfect hit. “Fine, do whatever you want to do with the blasted garden.” He almost sounds pained saying it.  I feel a smile tug at the corner of my lips, I hadn’t expected to get exactly what I wanted. That’s what the whole argument had been about, he’d been staunchly against the expense. 

“All of the above.” I sit up onto the beam and drop down next to him. I almost let out a gasp when I get a good look at him, he looks so very tired and worn. He’d left before the sun was even up this morning. I’d barely fallen asleep after chasing a target most of the night when I’d felt him stir beside me. There’s been growing unrest in the south, sparking bands of rebels to spring up and need to be put down. I feel a bit guilty for all the theatrics just now. I lean up and brush my lips against his while wrapping my arms around his neck. “Darling, we don’t have to go out.” 

I watch his eyes stray to the now faded handprint on my wrist. The past couple of months since that terrible night he’s been overly indulgent, giving into nearly every request or whim of mine. It’s bittersweet, I no longer believe what we have means nothing to him, but he still will not tell me otherwise. Is it pride, fear, or am I imagining things? He leans his cheek on the top of my head. “No, it’s fine.” 

The way I’m pressed against his chest I can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, strong and reassuring. “I'll leave it up to you.” I feel his arms tighten around me. I’m tempted to say more, but it’d make him cross if I fussed over him. 

When we first started going to the theatre we were the subject of extreme interest. Those same whispers that followed us at the Solstice revels consumed the theatre crowd. Winter was fading away and we were falling back into a routine after what happened, he found me idly sketching and stated he was bored and we should go out. I told him he never wanted to go out, which earned an annoyed huff. I’d had to kiss away his irritation before he’d let me agree to his suggestion. It became a bit of a regular occurrence as spring arrived full force, the two of us, ensconced in his private box, bantering and debating in hushed whispers, trying to keep as quiet as possible. As if anyone would actually admonish the Grand General for not keeping quiet at the theatre. 

“You really are spoiling me.” I twirl and show off the latest of his gifts, black lace and tulle, voluminous skirt yet somehow very revealing. 

“I would say it’s worth it.” His gaze roves over me appreciatively before his hands close around my hips and he pulls me close. “You’re stunning.” The way his voice drops low and he whispers those words in my ear, I can almost feel my cheeks going crimson. I hate it when he does that. 

“We will be late if you continue this.”  I hesitate for a moment, we could just stay home. Eventually, I pull myself from his grasp and climb into the waiting carriage. “You may further compliment me when we return.” 

It’s opening night for some unheard of playwright who’s managed to get the backing of a noble family. These productions that buy their way into a theatre are usually vanity pieces for their patrons and almost always end in spectacular disaster. Tonight is no exception, an overwrought affair based on an old myth, with glaringly obvious current parallels. “Really? Comparing me to Mordekaiser. I’m not sure if I should be insulted or flattered.” 

“I would say flattered, but the dialogue is so insipid I’m going to go with insulted.” I make a mock gagging noise. 

“We could just leave. That would cause a bit of a stir, walk out right now.”

“Tempting but whoever bankrolled this would probably think that was a victory. Oh, I know, let’s ask to meet the author. I heard he’s here. That will terrify him.” 

“That is evil. How do I sleep next to you at night?” He puts his arm through my mine, bringing us closer. 

“I always assumed very lightly.” I lean my head on his shoulder, relishing the moment.

He laughs in that subdued manner that’s typical for him, control to him is everything, and then squeezes my hand ever so slightly. I’ve come to know that gesture for what it is, his way of asking for affection, even if it is more proof of that constant need for control. I tilt my head up and brush my lips against his cheek anyway, I’ll not deny him. “I’m glad we came out tonight.” I’m taken aback at the unexpected honesty. I return my head to his shoulder and feel him ever so lightly kiss the top of my head.

“Me too.” Some intuition grips me and I realize there’s something he’s not telling me. I can feel the tension in his body as I lean against him. Between that and the tiredness lingering in his eyes, I’m troubled. 

I don’t really pay attention to the remainder of the theatrical debacle playing out before us, instead, we whisper back and forth and exchange soft kisses when we run out of words. When the whole dreadful thing has finally concluded neither of us is invested in our malicious scheme from earlier. We attempt to slip out of the theatre quickly before any of the high society crowd can attempt to small talk to us. “Madame Katarina, Grand General!” Coming around a corner into an open foyer we almost run down the owner of the cultured, smooth voice. 

“Rowan!” We stop short and I lean in to give them a quick peck on the cheek. “What a wonderful surprise.” I hear Jericho very quietly huff behind me, he knows why I'm so elated at the coincidence.

“Am I missing something?” They clearly sense the opposing forces at work here.

I met Rowan at a gallery show for Alrich about a month ago, we ended up deep in conversation and kept in touch after. It was only after our first meeting that I realized they were, in fact, the newly elected Head of the Mage’s Council. Jericho referred to it as quite a fortuitous connection, always politics with him.  “Since you asked, there’s a small favor I need to beg of you.” Gardens don’t really grow in normal Noxian soil, you either import it or have it enchanted or better yet, both. “Could you recommend the best green mage of your acquaintance?” I give deep emphasis to best, the cost isn’t a concern. 

“Planning to play in your garden a bit?” They give me a wry smile, they’ve heard my ambitions on this subject before. “I’ll see to it as soon as possible my dear. I hope you'll forgive my haste but I'm late to an engagement." He inclines his head politely to Jericho. "Grand General,  always an honor, Sir. And do stop by sometime, the both of you, I owe you a tour.”

“We’ll look forward to it.” We kiss cheeks again, Jericho returns their nod, and they fade into the now pressing crowd. 

Pushing through to the exit we finally find ourselves out in the mild spring night. I take his arm as we walk the short distance from the theatre to the cafe. “What’s troubling you, and don’t tell me nothing, I know better.”

“You are spending too much time with me. I had planned on having a discussion with you shortly. But first, other pressing matters. You are aware there is an intelligence briefing tomorrow, correct?” 

“Yes.” This again, I keep my tone purposefully terse. 

“And you know what time it is set to begin at?” I nod silently. “Then don’t be late again. Veera already thinks your position should be rescinded, stop giving her excuses. And please actually try to be in uniform.”

“She’s never going to like my being there anyway.” This is really the last thing I want to talk about. 

“I’d imagine that has something to do with you breaking her nose up north.” His tone is flat. 

I pull away from him to gesture wildly. “You know what she said! How was I supposed to know she was Intelligence.” 

“You could’ve not let her bait you like that. However, she’s your Superior and you will have to deal with her for now.”

“Until I’m promoted. That’s what you’re planning on, isn’t it?” Thinking of fucking Veera and High Command has me silently seething. I didn’t even want this position in Intelligence, it was regretfully forced on me as soon as I became Guild Commander. “Remember when she had the nerve to ask if I could even read High Noxian like I’m some sort of uneducated child. The Grand Whore apparently can't understand our official language."

He surprisingly chuckles quietly. “You spent a whole meeting only speaking to her in Old Noxian. It was quite impressive actually, I didn’t even know you spoke it.” Now he finds it amusing, he was irritated at the time. 

“I suppose it’s typical. People usually think killing is all I’m good for.” With that thought, melancholy starts to bleed into my rage. I trudge on in silence but he catches up and takes my arm again. He doesn’t speak though, giving me a moment until we reach our destination on the edge of an open plaza. There are a few cafes scattered amongst the now darkened shops that remain open for the crowds coming from the theatres, opera house, and galleries, but there’s one in particular I favor. 

We’d started coming here shortly after we began having theatre nights. I’d frequented it before on my own, but one night we’d both needed sobering up and weren’t ready to go home. There had been a painfully boring diplomatic dinner that had impelled us both to decimate our host’s wine cellar. Well, impelled me anyway, I may have drug him along with it. It makes me smile a little to think of myself being a bad influence on the Grand General. We’d scared the owner Tavi, a Shuriman immigrant, half to death. He had no idea what to do with Jericho seated at one of his outdoor tables, sipping coffee with his mistress. He has since thankfully calmed down a bit when we show up. 

We find our usual table, tucked into a darker corner of the veranda, affording us at least some privacy, as Jericho prefers. Sahar, one of Tavi’s daughters brings out coffee with a polite greeting before we even ask. They always have the best Shuriman brew here. You can tell by the number of Tavi’s fellow immigrants clustered inside, looking for a taste of home. Moments later Sahar reappears with a smile and one of Tavi’s famous flaky crusted pastries. “I saved one just for you, Madame, I know you are fond of them.” She’s a flatterer, but that’s what I pay for. 

“Many thanks, Sahar. ” The scent of strawberries and roasted nuts wafts up to me and as soon as she’s out of sight I ravenously stuff a large forkful in my mouth. 

Jericho smirks at me from across the table. “If only I knew before that all it took to mollify you was a decent pastry.” 

I feign being indignant “It’s the strawberries, they’re my favorite, and someone wouldn’t let me have them all winter.” 

“No, he said stop spending a fortune on them when they have to be imported.” He pretends to be stern with me. 

I play the brat and pout. “You were mean about it and I didn’t get any.”

“My poor Kitten, that must have been torture. Although I know full well you had Cress buying them and hiding the cost. How many bottles of wine did it cost me for you to bribe him?” He sits back looking triumphant, he’s won our little back and forth.”

“No fair, you always know everything.” I blow him a kiss and finish enjoying my pastry. With the last bite dispatched I turn my attention back to what’s bothering him. The silence that’s stretched between us seems to be alive with whatever it is, it’s heavy and oppressive, erasing the pleasantness of a few moments ago.  “So.”

“I suppose I owe you that discussion about what’s been on my mind.” I nod, hoping to just get it over with. My every sense is telling me to dread his words. “You know there’s been unrest in the south. Thus far the forces sent have failed to stamp it out entirely.” He pauses and once again tension fills the space between us. “I intend to go settle it myself.”

My heart freezes, I forget to breathe. He’s going to war. Part of me cries out to beg him not to, but that’s not the Noxian way and he’d despise it. Instead, I steady myself and bury that impulse. “Do you want me to go with?” That would be acceptable, I could make myself of use, like in the North.

He shakes his head. Of course, he won’t want it construed that he needs to take his little pet everywhere with him. “No, but the situation has given me much to consider and there is something I need to ask of you.” Another moment of terrible silence. I stare down at the cup in my hands that I hadn’t realized I was clutching tightly. Will he just get this over with? “It occurs to me I could use someone to watch over my interests while I’m away. Not with official power, of course, but to keep my allegiances strong and prevent my enemies from growing too bold.”

“And?” I urge him on, gesturing impatiently. 

“I would want you to have the respect due to you while acting on my behalf. And I’d like to make it clear in that case that anyone acting against you is acting against me as well.” I take a sip of coffee, completely lost. “All this is to say, I think we should get married.” 

A raspy cough escapes me as I choke on my coffee. “What!?”

“You and I, we should get married.” He says a bit more slowly as if it somehow makes it any less absurd. 

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised you’re even bothering to ask and not just ordering.” The shock leaves me defensive and lashing out. Get married, be his wife, this is lunacy.

Now he’s the one who turns his eyes away and contemplates his cup. “Fair enough. Although I would argue things have changed over time.” He reaches out to take my hand, thumb running along my knuckles. His voice drops into that soft tone that always persuades me to his point. “You would agree, right?”

Damn him for being charming. “I suppose they have a bit.” I give his hand a soft squeeze. 

“You have to admit it is a solid notion. I know Darius can be depended upon and Argos is very capable but has not been in his position long.  And soon enough we’ll have a new Commander of the Capitol Guard.” 

“I didn’t realize she was finally retiring.” I interrupt. 

“Not quite.” The insinuation is unmistakable. “I’ll need you to see to it personally. Back to the point, I’ll get what I need while I’m gone and if I should not return, you’ll be a very wealthy widow.” 

I roll my eyes at that last bit. “Don’t be ridiculous, something’s far more likely to befall me than you.”

He looks up brows furrowed. “Don’t say that.”

“Can I think about this whole thing?” I’m at a loss. All my work to accept the way things are between us, and he wants to complicate it all over again. 

“If you insist, my Warbands have been summoned though, and I plan to leave within the week.” Why am I the last to know about this whole thing? “Keep in mind, we can always get divorced if you find it disagreeable. In fact, since you have no assets of your own, I’m technically the only one at risk.”

It’s such a clerical way of looking at it, just what I’d expect from him. I almost wish it hurt, but I’m too used to how he is. So instead I simply rise and stretch. “I’m ready to go home.” I start walking away before he’s even out of his seat. 

“Right.” He leaves some coin on the table and hurries to catch up with me. I feel the weight of his coat drop around my shoulders and inhale the scent of him that clings to it, leather and parchment and that cologne he pretends he doesn’t wear. “There’s a chill in the air.” There’s not but it’s an unusually soft gesture so I let his little lie slide.

“Still trying to persuade me?” I slow my pace a bit so that we fall into step with each other. 

“Perhaps.” He takes my hand. “Is it working?” I only roll my eyes at him again, this time with a smile though. 

Thankfully he lets the subject drop the rest of the way home. Once Gwen has helped me out of my dress, I slip on my robe and take a precious few moments to think while running a brush through my hair. How can I even begin to contemplate marrying him? It’s absolutely absurd, and he’s arranged it all with the same cool detachment of ordering his soldiers into formation. And yet he asked, admitting when he did that things are not as they once were between us. With that admission comes the stinging awareness that for whatever his reason, he’d rather it remain unacknowledged. As usual, I’m expected to obey his wishes and follow along with his silence. But isn’t that what I’ve accepted time and again?

Nothing is clarified by the time I slip next door to find him hunched over his desk, pen in hand. “Are you seriously working right now?”

He puts a hand up. “I’ll only be a moment.” 

I stalk over and drop myself into his lap, he doesn’t get to propose to me and then spend the rest of the night obsessing over the Empire. “No.” He tries to write around me. “I want your attention.” 

I lean in and kiss his jaw just where it meets his neck, he shudders. My lips travel upward, I nip and pull his earlobe between my teeth, sucking for a moment. He gasps, pen clattering down onto the desk. “You are insistent on making a nuisance of yourself, aren’t you?” He wraps his hands around my hips.

“If that’s what it takes to get what I want.” I can feel that tension in him again and I’m reminded of the reason for his proposal. There must be some concern about this rebellion within High Command if he’s going to take on the task himself. He still hasn’t rooted out the conspiracy he knows is working in the shadows, no doubt that weighs on him as well. I kiss his neck and let my teeth graze it, he digs his fingers into my hips and thrusts lightly against me. I feel the heat of desire build inside me. “You’re so tense though, let me take care of you.”

I push his hands away and slide down to the floor between his legs. I trace my fingers along the growing bulge in his pants, causing more small noises from him, before opening them. He sighs when I grasp him and work my hand up and down his length. I feel his fingers dig into my shoulders when I run my tongue over his head and take him into my mouth. His hand grips my hair, pushing me forward, urging me to take all of him. Tongue pressed against him, lips tight, I move up and down, listening to his soft moans. When he can no longer stand my deliberately slow pace, he holds me still and drives into me, relentlessly using me. 

I hear his rapid breathing and know he’s taken himself close to the edge. I break away, clambering back into his lap, straddling his hips. I let my robe fall to the floor and lean down for a rough kiss, my hand once again wrapped around his cock. “Don’t tease me.” He growls. 

“Never.” Wet and aching for him, I impale myself on him and moan as his hips buck up to meet me. Again I start slow, rocking my hips against him, taking him as deep as possible. His hands hold me loosely, a sign he's given over control to me.  “You feel so good inside me.” I quicken, moving with urgency, breath coming rapidly, feeling the bliss of being filled with him. I feel myself tighten around him,  pleasure exploding inside me, crying out as I’m spent. I’m pliant as a moment later he pulls me down roughly, taking back that control, and finishing with a few deep thrusts. 

I lean my head onto his shoulder, suddenly exhausted, and feel his arms wrap around me. He means so much to me, will I lose him if I don’t do what he asks? Will he find someone else to play the part? I’m out of choices again it would seem. “You’re right, it’s a good idea.”

I leave it at that and wait for him to respond. “Look me in the eyes and tell me yes, if that’s your answer, Kat.” 

I oblige and sit up, staring into those unyielding dark pools. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” I brush my lips lightly against his to seal my promise. 

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 13

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.

He’s already gone when I awake, of course, the sun indicating that it’s already near mid-day. How do I still feel tired? I roll over and stare at the canopy above me, reliving the feeling of him undressing me last night and pulling me into his arms before sleep overtook me. It’s maddening. No, I’ll continue in my resolve to see nothing in it, to not give meaning where there is none. I suppress the memory and pull myself from bed, heading to my room to dress for the day. A note waits for me on my dressing table, written in his measured script, exacting and precise, as would be expected from him. 

“I trust tonight the Guild will be meeting and you will take control of it with little resistance. Once you have that firmly in hand I require a task of you. Augustus Montrose must be eliminated tonight, he’s begun to realize the alliance between his sister and myself. As always, take care of yourself.  - J”

“PS. I was informed that you were almost out of that violet perfume you always wear.”  

  I finally notice the ornate glass bottle to the left of where the note was, full of the aforementioned scent. My reward for being a good little pet. I wonder what Augustus’s death will earn me. That poor little idiot, he tried so desperately to be important and powerful, he’s earned a death sentence instead. I’d almost feel bad for him, but getting in that deep with any faction in Noxian politics is basically asking to be struck down at any moment. 

After I’m dressed I ring for Gwen and she appears in short order, always eager to be of use. “Yes Madame.” She has a sober look to her face, as if she already has sensed why she’s here. 

I sit at the dressing table and examine the wide bruise that has bloomed on the right side of my face.  “I’ll need your kitchen boy to come through, I need to know where Montrose intends to be tonight.” 

In the mirror, I see her expression change to one of smug self-satisfaction. “As it turns out, I took the initiative to inquire after him this morning. He complained that tonight another elaborate dinner party has been planned, even after all the Solstice revels. Montrose is celebrating some new, powerful friends he’s made.”

I stop and turn towards her. “Did he mention a woman at all, unusually pale?” How deep is he in, what are we about to stir up?

She bites her lip and shakes her head. “No, just some of the usual nobility who rankle at the loss of privilege they’ve experienced. He’ll stay in the kitchens after dinner and the other servants have been dismissed. Knock if you see no movement inside.” 

Well, we won’t be taking a piece off the board that she’ll desperately miss. “Perfect, thank you, Gwen, that will be all.” I dismiss her with a gesture and turn my attention to readying myself for the Guild tonight. Augustus will be easy to find when I’m ready for him. 

Weapons sharpened and muscles stretched in case of confrontation, Inara, Lark, and I gather early in the Guild’s headquarters, finding it empty thanks to a generous bribe I supplied via Lark.  The unassuming building sits amidst a group of others housing various government functions. While most of High Command still functions from within the Immortal Bastion itself, bureaucracy has spread like a fungus to the area around it. It’s a reflection of the temple district in that way, both of them evolving over the years with Noxus itself, Old Town pressing up against them both and the Bastion as the nobility grappled for power.  In times past, the Grand General dwelt in the Immortal Bastion, making it the ultimate seat of power. Jericho is different, preferring the control he has over his own family home to the mysteries and hidden spaces where a plot could come to fruition at any time. Of course, he still has unfettered access to it anytime he wishes. The Guild’s place here would shock outsiders who don’t understand it’s place within Noxus. Assassination has never been a method that our government or military has considered off-limits. The position in Intelligence of a Guild Officer enables the government to make use of its services at will, effectively making the it an unofficial branch of High Command. 

I spent countless hours here as a child before our move to Shurima, and many more once we returned. I know all its twists and turns and nooks and crannies as well as that of my own family’s home. I even pass a small alcove I remember as a favorite of mine for spying, shrinking into the shadows as a child to listen to the adults around me. We clear the rambling structure room by room, including any hidden ones and secret passages that I know of, ensuring no one is lying in wait. Next, all secondary exits are secured, leaving only the main door as the way in or out. When I’m satisfied that everything is in place, Inara and I retreat to a side room off the main hall, to await or moment. 

They trickle in through the next couple of hours, Inara and I taking shifts pressed up against the door to listen, some voices we recognize, some are unknown. Someone opens a stored cask of ale, they drink and converse, some begin to openly mourn the fallen. There’s a rising tide among them, confirmed dead members, Marius among them, who is targeting them? For what reason? Suspicions are aimed everywhere, including the Grand General. When the time is right, Lark raps on the wall next our hiding space, three sharp knocks, it’s time. 

We emerge and push through the crowd to the very center, gasps and whispers following in our wake as recognition dawns on them. Time seems slow, this is it, the moment there’s no going back from. Now that I’ve come to it though, I know that every step I’ve taken has lead me here. Perhaps there is such a thing as destiny, and this is mine. Destiny or not, I am no longer General Du Couteau’s shamed daughter, and no longer the Grand General’s pet, I am Commander of the Assasin’s Guild, a force and entity in my own right. 

“Brothers and sisters, your leaders are dead. They were weak and have paid the price for that. I stand before you now to take my rightful place in their stead, as your Commander.” Raucous noise breaks out among them, the three we recruited before this passionately on my side in the debate. 

The din reaches its crescendo and a woman steps to the forefront. “You would deliver us into the hands of the Usurper, to be used as his weapon.” 

I snort, someone was bound to put this forth. “The Grand General is the rightful ruler of Noxus, along with the others of the Trifarix. The Guild will support High Command as it always has, nothing more, nothing less.”

“So says the Grand Whore. Do you believe you can deceive…” She’s cut off by the dagger that flies from my hand and buries in her chest. I’m weary of the same nonsense being spewed over and over again.

No other moves to challenge me, they’re undecided, for the moment. “As I was saying.” Inara covers the fallen in a cloak and moves her discreetly out of the crowd. “Our numbers have dwindled, our coffers are depleted, and those arrogant bastard ‘guilds’ take our potential recruits. Let us rectify this, and find our strength once again. We’ll scour the lessor guilds from Noxus, once and for all, and become the power we were meant to be.” 

Father made a grave error in his leadership, he finally succumbed to the Black Rose. His single-minded pursuit of their objectives took a toll on the Guild. I can see it in their faces, they hunger for a return to glory. The murmuring returns, this time it begins to swing in my favor. She took down Marius, we would have the Grand General’s support, she’s here and Marcus is not. Lark joins in, adding to the momentum, a vote is called for. I take note and the slim few who still dissent, they’ll have to be watched. When it finally ends, I’m officially Guild Commander Katarina Du Couteau, with Lark and Inara acting as seneschals. 

My first order of business is just as I promised, both the Guild and Jericho, I assign a few of our members to begin tracking our competition. My second act is far less exciting, Inara and I head to the archives to understand the degree of disorder things have fallen to, leaving Lark to monitor for any fresh discord. I have some time before it will be clear to go after Augustus. I had briefly considered assigning someone else to the task, but I’m familiar with the Montrose estate. I suppose it’s fitting, he once said I stole his heart, now I’ll steal his life. 

The Guild records are a shambles that reflect the last few years of leadership. I thumb through the latest records, noting the brazen embezzlement, and stare longingly at the fire. Inara laughs at me from behind a stack of loose papers belonging to gods know where. “Didn’t think this would be the hard part?” 

I lay my head down on the desk. “How did it get this bad? Is this a Guild of idiots?” 

“This is what happens when we rely on anyone who volunteers to do this. We only get thieves and idiots.” She sighs as she tosses the stack back down in front of her. 

“Nevermind, I resign my position.” That gets a small laugh from her and her eyes brighten a bit. I stand and stretch, time to get the blood flowing back into my limbs. “I’m done, I’ve got some other business to handle.” 

“Happy hunting, Commander.” For all that we have a mess ahead of us to deal with, there’s satisfaction about her. It makes me even more proud of what we’ve accomplished here tonight. 

The city is quiet, still wrapped in a snowy mantle from the other night. I move through the streets in welcome solitude, reaching the Montrose estate with ease. With my cloak tucked around me, I watch the kitchen from the garden, someone has left a lamp burning so I can see the vague shapes within. When I’m finally satisfied that no unwanted company is around, I approach, keeping my cloak tight, and tap lightly. It only takes a second before a scrawny young man with dirty blonde hair cracks the door, the corners of his mouth up turning into a vicious smile the second he sees me. “He’s saying a drunken farewell to his guests, a girl awaits him in the blue parlor upstairs.” With that he vanishes up the servant stairs, leaving me with free reign. 

With the other servants all withdrawn to their quarters the halls of the manor are as silent as the grave. I cautiously stalk through them, not making a sound, nearing the blue parlor.  My plan is to take the girl first and wait for him. Quick and clean, he won’t even know what happened. Then I hear it, from a room back near the main staircase, that ancient snarling voice. “Augustus, you spoiled little hedonist, where are you?” 

“Coming Grandmother!” His impatient reply comes from the bottom of the stairs. Life is good sometimes. 

The old woman is ensconced in an over-decorated bedroom that’s rotten with faded glory. I slip in and silently shut the door behind me. She scrambles to prop herself up in bed, she knows I’m not her grandson. Her eyes have begun to fail though, so that’s all she can make out. “Wh-who’s there?” She summons some power to her voice, she’s so used to being obeyed. She and many others are relics of old Noxus, a time when the nobility were parasites, feeding off the strength of the Empire. They are a vain, petty, self-absorbed, lot whose time has passed. 

I steal to her side and she makes a quiet gasp as her eyes finally reveal me. “Death Lady Montrose, death is among you tonight.” She makes to cry out but my hand slams down over her mouth. “This will be the fate of all who refuse to bend to the Empire’s new order.” I slide my blade between her ribs and down into her heart, a task made easy since she has no strength to struggle against me with. She slumps forward, her lifeblood draining into her fine bed covers. 

There are footsteps in the hall, Augustus finally decided to answer his grandmother’s summons, and I slip behind the door to await him. It's only a moment before he throws it open snarling. “What do you want, you old bat?”

Three steps in and he finally takes in the scene before him, coming to a dead stop. I softly shut the door once again. He sucks in a breath as if he wants to scream and then I’m right behind him, breathing down his neck quite literally. He laughs, a mirthless sound. “Two nights. I was allowed to live two nights after getting too close to you. He’s certainly possessive.” 

  “Don’t be dramatic. This is about something entirely beyond you and me.” He’s unnervingly pliant as I put the dagger to his throat. Poor, weak Augustus, he doesn’t even know how to resist me. He sniffles when he feels it against his skin, all his bravado evaporated. He’s not the first I’ve seen to shed tears at their end and I’m not inclined to be moved by it. 

“I would’ve done great things, you could have joined me at my side, Kat.” The words are marred by a strangled sobbing that he fights to keep from overtaking him. Back firm, but shoulders quaking, he struggles to meet his end with dignity. 

“I’m already doing great things.” I dig the edge of the blade into his flesh and a whimper escapes him. His knees buckle immediately and I step back from him as his life flows into the plush carpet. It’s not long before a shudder marks his last breath. 

Surveying the carnage around me I realize I may have gone a bit far with the old woman’s death. If Coraline faces repercussions from it Jericho will be furious. But then again, I smile to myself, it had been deeply satisfying putting an end to that bulwark of old Noxus. Either way, it is done and can’t be changed. I’ll need to slip out before that girl gets impatient and comes looking for Augustus. 

I find the kitchen door left slightly ajar after heading back down the servant stairs. I shut it fast behind me and return to the waiting darkness of the night. It’s been a long night and I feel it in the stitched wound in my leg and the aching bruise on my face, and it feels wondrous. Tonight I am triumphant. I finally have what my father once promised to me. I took it with strength and cunning, as a Noxian should. Would father be proud? Perhaps I should go ask mother, a cruel, petty voice inside whispers. No, forget it. I’m beyond her, she’s nothing, a ghost haunting the ruin of her own life. The rage I have toward her will not be so easily extinguished though.

I focus myself back on the Guild, that thundering sensation as the crowd declared for me. I feel pride welling up in me, my confidence soaring. I’m damned self-satisfied and achingly confident as I approach the house. I wonder if Jericho is awake. He shouldn’t be but he rarely sleeps as much as he ought to. If he is, we should celebrate tonight’s success. The thought of him whispering in my ear about how pleased he is with me sends a shiver through me. 

I’m broken out of my reverie by the sight of Dras shutting the gate. Odd that it’s open at this hour. He looks up at me and quickly looks away, but movement on the stairs has already drawn my attention. Jericho, he stops at the door when he hears me on the walk behind him. Breathing becomes difficult as I ascend the stairs to where he’s paused. I’ve always known I wasn’t the only one, I’ve just never had to viscerally confront it until this moment. 

“Kat.” He already sounds like he’s going to attempt some insincere apology. I brush past him, an ache spreading through my chest. Then it hits me, the cloying smell of decaying roses, the scent that always marks her presence. Her, why her?  Of course, it’s all another little power game to him. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

I shake it off with a violent shrug. “Don’t touch me.” I need to get away from him. I feel my eyes start to sting. No, I can’t do this in front of him. 

He cuts in front of me, blocking my way to the stairs. “Don’t be like this.” He’s so irritatingly calm compared to the storm exploding inside me. 

I put my hand up to ward him off. “It’s fine.” My voice somehow remains steady. “Exclusivity wasn’t part of our arrangement. I just want to be alone.” 

He steps forward, stubbornly ignoring everything I said, and reaches out to put his hand on my cheek. Gods, that normally has the power to melt me. “If it is fine, why are you being dramatic?” How typical of him.

“Fuck you.” I shove his hand away from me. “You always have to have the last word. You could’ve just let me walk away.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a second, as though I’m the one who’s offended him. “Fine go. I’d rather not put up with a childish tantrum.”

Childish, it stings in ways I can’t define. The pain of it all twists and transforms, becoming fury. I close the distance between us, tilting my head to glare up at him. “Maybe you’d prefer to not put up with me at all? I can arrange that.”

“Try it. What have you ever accomplished in your life without me.” He snaps back at me. 

Black washes over my vision, my thoughts vanishing into rage, and I lash out, striking him across the face. He catches my wrist with his left hand as I pull back. That roiling anger too quickly vanishes, replaced by a sudden dread as his eyes begin to smolder an unnatural crimson. I’ve never born witness to the demon truly unleashed. An aura of terrible power blazes around him, filling the hall with a haunting flickering red light. I quake slightly as I feel those unliving fingers dig into my wrist. “You ungrateful little bitch.” Another voice speaks along with his. Is it him or the demon in control now? 

Instead of the unnatural warmth of his touch that I know so well, a burning begins to singe my skin. “Let go!” I try to pull away and I flashback to that night that started all of this, a similar altercation between us,  how frighteningly strong he actually was. “Jericho, you’re hurting me.” In fear and desperation, I step forward and slam my shoulder into his chest.

He inhales sharply, backing up, and let’s go. His eyes close and that terrible power dissipates, coiling itself back inside him. I turn and flee, scared, humiliated, heartbroken. “Kat wait. I’m so sorry.” He calls after me, but I can’t even turn to face him. 

I slam the door to my room behind me and collapse into the window seat. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I try and steady my rapidly beating heart and panting breath. I should leave, just forget whatever this absurd arrangement has become and go. I look down at my wrist, a scarlet, irritated handprint wraps around it. I shift and a sheath digs into my back, causing me to recoil as though someone was behind me.  “Godsdamn it.” I pull out the dagger and send it across the room to embed in the wall. “Damn it all.” I rip the other blade from my back and toss it to the ground with a snarl before pulling my legs back up to my chest. Why can’t I find it in me to leave?

I stare apathetically out at the dark city until there’s a soft knock at the door. I’ll have to face him sooner or later anyway. “You wouldn’t go away if I told you to, so you might as well come in.” 

He doesn’t meet my eyes as he enters, genuine guilt for once written on his features. “I wanted to apologize. You told me that I should not wait to do so. So I am here. Peace offering?” He holds out a bottle of wine, Shuriman, dark and bitter, very fitting. 

Perhaps I am mad, but now that he’s here I don’t want him to leave me alone. I take the bottle and gesture to the seat next to me. As he sits I take a long pull from it. “Well, I’m listening.” 

He fixes his gaze on the floor. “That was...not entirely me. However, losing control, that was my fault. And I do beg your forgiveness. I will understand if you do not wish to give it.” 

After everything tonight I’ve grown numb and his words leave me oddly empty. But that lack of feeling brings some clarity, he’s not the only one who bears responsibility for what happened. “I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry about that.” I take another pull off the bottle. “Interesting choice for an apology, what should I make of it?”

He shrugs. “I was sure you would be gone. I actually planned to drink myself to sleep.” 

I hand him back the bottle. “Would you really allow that?”

At last, he turns to look up at me, our eyes locking.  “I would not stop you if that is what you really wanted.” He passes the bottle back to me. 

I take another long pull. “And where would I go? What would I do?” Our fingers touch as he takes the bottle back from my hand and he brushes his thumb along mine.

“You would work something out. You don’t really need me. That’s the truth, despite what I said earlier. ” Is it? I stretch my legs out into his lap and hiss as pain shoots through my leg.  He looks at the floor again. “I forgot about your leg.” He sets the bottle to the side and takes my hand, looking pointedly at my wrist. “Should I go? Am I only making things worse?” 

I don’t think I could bear it if he did. “No, it’s fine, stay.” I leave my hand in his. He squeezes it ever so slightly as if he’s worried I’ll make him let go. 

Suddenly he leans over, arms around my waist and leaning his head against my chest. “I would prefer it if you didn’t leave though. I would miss you.” 

Why is it that the only mercy that exists in my soul is for him? I wrap my arms around his shoulders and return his embrace. “I’m not going to leave.” 

“Swear it?” he asks softly. 

“I swear I’m not leaving.” I kiss the top of his head and lean my cheek against it. 

He sighs as though he’s been relieved of a great burden. “And I swear to take more care from now on.” He pulls himself even tighter against me. “My Kitten.”  Does he really not know that oath or not, I can be nowhere but by his side?

[tragedybunny]

Loneliness

So I just wanted to write a short bit of Swain x Katarina fluff because of all the real-life terrible. So, with no prompting from anyone, here’s a soft Swain. 

Katarina was, in the most general of terms, a disaster. She had the tendency to leave her possessions behind her in a very visible and obvious trail; blades casually tossed on his desk, clothing discarded without a care on the floor, occasional paperbacks haphazardly lost beneath their bed covers. There were days that it drove him mad as he was used to a meticulously ordered environment. 

He had tried in the past to discuss it with her like two rational people, she’d just grinned infuriatingly and calmly told him it was her home too now and besides, it was all eventually cleared away. In a less than gracious and sensible moment, he’d reminded her that was because they had servants. All that had earned him was a night sleeping alone and having to make a tremendous apology in the morning. 

Nothing changed and she continued to behave in ways that vexed him. Though over time he had grown used paying it no mind in order to keep the peace, letting her do as she pleased. Tonight was wholly the opposite, he noted, softly petting Beatrice as she settled onto her perch for the night. He hadn’t had to pick up one errant whetstone or piece of jewelry. Bea pulled him out of his musings with a soft contented caw. “Good night my little dear.” He cooed gently at her. Even this brought his thoughts back to Kat. She was the only one in the world to hear him speak to his beloved pet like that. She’s become an intrinsic part of his life, almost as if she’d been there forever. 

He’d just finished signing the orders for the latest campaigns Noxus would be waging and had made sure they were precisely sorted in a neat stack before he began to dim the lamps and make his way to bed. By instinct, he dodged the spot on the floor where her robe almost always lay at night. Tonight though, there to attempt to trip him. His brow furrowed, now that he had acclimated to her chaos, the neatness around him felt empty being devoid of it. 

It got infinitely worse when he pulled the covers around himself and found no one there. There should definitely be a warm presence taking up the majority of the bed somehow despite her size. It was cold and empty and all wrong. He should have found peace in the order that was once so familiar to him, instead, there was only an aching sense of loneliness and a rather embarrassing compulsion. 

She’d only been gone a few days, he couldn’t give in to this thought. But then again, when was the last time they had been parted for any real amount of time. He lacked the feel of her in his arms and all the comfort that meant. For what seemed to be hours he tossed and turned unable to settle, sleep eluding him. 

Finally, with a sigh, and relieved that no one could see him, he rose, giving in finally to the instinct that drove him. No one could ever know what he was about to do. Tucked away in his wardrobe was that black silk robe she wore so often. He’d retrieved it from where she’d dropped it before it could be laundered. Embarrassed but desperate beyond words he smuggled it under the covers with him. Wrapping his arms around the cool fabric and holding it close he finally felt he could relax. It wasn’t his wife but he could still feel her presence and at least a little of that comfort he was sorely missing. 

He had, at last, began to drift off when he heard it, his blood running cold, the sound of his window creaking open. Next came the unmistakable sound of her lithe step down into the room. Inwardly he cursed himself, when Kat found him like this he would never hear the end of it. 

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 12

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.

Inara rolls her eyes. “If you’re done with your dramatic entrance, can we get started?” She gestures impatiently to the ponderous house below us. 

“My apologies, I must have mistook myself for the one in charge of this mission.” I give her a flat look and she finally cracks a smile as Lark sighs at us. “Don’t worry Lark, banter is over. You both know who we need to move on if this doesn’t go in our favor. Wait for me, we’ll move as one in that case. If I don’t come back at all, leave, pretend none of this ever happened.”

Inara gives me a dark look. “Should one of us let him know, in the case that you don’t come back?” 

It hadn’t crossed my mind that he would need to be informed if I should fail. Nothing that happened in the city seemed to escape his knowing. Yet suppose he didn’t know this time? Would he believe the worst of me, that I had betrayed him and vanished into the night? “Go to the servant’s door, ask for Gwen, my maid, she’ll see that he’s told.” 

“Your what now?” Oh, gods. At least that’s brought the mirth back to her expression. 

“What? Am I supposed to get into those fancy dresses all by myself?” I know she’ll laugh at that, I need to hear it just now. The weight of this moment is starting to settle onto me and I drag my hand through my hair.  “Come on, let’s get this over with.” 

“Of course, whatever you say...Madame Swain.” That even manages to draw a chuckle from Lark. It catches me off guard though and I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. I’m granted a reprieve as neither of them offer a comment on it. 

I ready myself at the edge of the roof. One well placed jump and I’ll be on the house below us. “See you on the other side.”

I take a few paces back and give myself a running start. I spring off the roof, for a moment it feels like flying, and the other roof rushes toward me. As I land, I roll, spreading the force and breaking my momentum. The darkened turrets make an ideal entry point. They, much like the House guards, belong to a bygone era, and many, like Jericho’s, ended up as neglected spaces. 

The archaic window gives way easily, admitting me into the blackness within. She should be just returning from the festivities at the arena, bloodshed for the masses, the condemned dying in the most spectacular fashion, and a lucky few winning pardons. Cobwebs and dust have gathered over crates and bits of furniture, as I suspected, it’s been abandoned to time. I put my foot out and test the spiral staircase that leads downward, it seems sturdy enough. I descend, stepping lightly to avoid the groaning of the ancient wood, passing the attic, and stopping at the next floor. I lean down to the keyhole, holding my breath, there’s every chance this door has been sealed over. Light shines through, one small victory. I put my ear to it and listen, there’s no noise emanating from the house beyond. I crack it ever so slightly, holding my breath as it creaks in the emptiness. No movement, no signs of life. Perfect, I slip out and shut it softly behind me. 

Voices begin the carry up from the stairs, she’s in the company of her guards, as expected. I only need to be patient for that to be remedied. I slip through the gaudily furnished hall in shadows, the Ingritts apparently have a deep need to display their wealth. I make for the master suite, another exercise in ostentatiousness, entering the bedchamber to lay in wait. 

She gives her final orders to the guards for the night before she enters, unaccompanied. Her back is to me as she shuts the door presenting me with a temptation to end her and avoid bothering with persuasion. But no, her support would be valuable. “Hello, Lara.” 

“So you’ve finally come.” She laughs. “Your whole absurd operation has become too easy to anticipate”

I feel a spark of anger, we’ve been exposed. I reach for my daggers, preparing for this talk to go very poorly. “Then you know what I’m here to offer.” 

  She turns toward me, confidence making her movements unhurried, her features imperious. “Join this ill-advised coup and hand the Guild over to the Usurper’s little pet? No, I don’t think I will. There’s a reason your father rejected you.” The chain whip coiled at her side suddenly sings through the air. I leap back, avoiding the sharp blade at the tip, drawing the daggers I had gripped. “You’re weak Katarina, you need to be led. With your father gone, you simply found someone else to do that.” 

She touches a deep well of rage that roils at her words, I feel something inside me snap. How many times will my past errors be weapons against me? How much more will I have to hear about my disgrace, my father’s disappointment?  There’s only been one person, despite his failings, who has seen more in me. “I’m taking the Guild, it belongs to me. If you choose to stand in my way then so be it.” I let a dagger fly in her direction, her chain whip flashing out to block it, predictable. I use the moment she’s committed herself to that action and I close the distance between us, coming to her side. 

She tries to change the momentum of her weapon, recovering faster than I anticipated. I leap back as she succeeds in bringing it back toward my direction. The blade catches me though, rending open the flesh of my thigh. Through the adrenaline, I can’t tell how deep it goes, but I feel the hot trickle of blood working its way down my leg. 

I draw another dagger and feint to my left, keeping my eyes locked on her weapon. Her hand makes the slightest movement, I wait. The whip begins to fly towards me, I dive to the other side, hurtling myself full speed at her. Her weapon, committed to where she thought I’d be, is useless to her. The blade in my hand tears into her throat, ripping it open. Blood erupts and she uselessly grasps at the wound. “Tell me again about my weakness, Lara.” 

Her hands still and her knees buckle. She gasps her last breaths as she collapses to the floor in a sanguine pool. I finally become aware of a stinging in my thigh and look down to find a wound several inches long. I withdraw a bandage from a pouch on my belt and staunch the flow of blood as much as possible, I don’t need to leave a trail. We’ll need to move on the others now before word of Lara’s death gets out. I push open one of the windows, gritting my teeth against its whine of protest, must everything in this house sound like it’s falling apart. I take a blind leap into the space between this house and the next, haste is more important now than secrecy, and sprint at full speed to the temple. 

Lark and Inara await me in silent anticipation. They know as soon as I appear that the recruitment wasn’t successful. “Our other three need to be done, now. We’ve been found out somehow, keep your wits about you and show no mercy.”

Inara shoots a glance at my leg, the blood now darkening the bandage. “Are you sure you can handle this?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

“I’m fine!” It comes out harsher than I expected. Her eyes widen, but she says nothing. “Fucking hell.” I tear off the reddened bandage and replace it quickly, tying it tighter than before, while giving orders. “Use our next agreed on rendezvous. Approach it cautiously, we don’t know who knows what.” I take a breath as I finish. The steady flow of blood is concerning, but I won’t let them see that. 

We scatter, each moving with lightning pace. It’s only a matter of time before the body is discovered and we lose the advantage of surprise. My last target tonight brings the saga of me, my family, and the Guild full circle. My father’s cousin, Marius, he’d taken primary leadership of the Guild when my father “disappeared”. He’d nearly begged me to assume a role by his side with Talon leaving on his doomed search.  It had nothing to do with familial loyalty though, I was the best chance he had to secure his position. I’d told him what I’d told Jericho initially about all this, and it had been the truth at the time, I wasn’t a leader. When I left home for Jericho’s he’d dared to come howling at the gate, demanding a word with his “dear cousin”. It was one of the rare times I was thankful for Moira’s bullheaded tendencies, demanding was not an attitude that would get you nowhere with her. Instead, he’d left me a letter filled with rage and curses. He even dared to guilt me about mother being all alone, I’d tossed it in the fire as soon as I read it. 

I never told her I was leaving, I just did, and let the gossip circles tell her where I was. It was satisfying to rip that control from her hands. She’d hated me for as long as I could remember. Her political scheming and maneuvering meant everything to her, and my birth went wrong, keeping her out of society for longer than it should have. At least that was the tale told to me by my nurse. Or maybe it was the whispers I heard when I was older that she never wanted children, but I was thrust on her by duty and expectation.  Either way, the result was the same and none of it mattered much now.

After the revels at the Arena, Marius would be in his favorite brothel, Father and I had collected him from there a number of times. The well-appointed mansion in Goldstone that looked so ordinary from the outside and yet within the upper class of the Capitol indulged their every fantasy. It had been built when Goldstone was established for that very purpose, rising as a hidden playground among the newly constructed buildings. This whole area had once been a slum that was razed by fire. The new money moved in after and made their own enclave in direct opposition to the nobles shuttered away in Old Town.  Of course, everyone knew that the fire was intentional, but for the poor who lived here, there had been no justice. With his endless wars needing endless resources, Darkwill was uninterested in the crimes of the rich. 

Tonight it works in my favor, the two districts being intentionally close, giving me not far to run. The gash in my thigh is a constant stinging and I feel the bandage growing moist again. The modern aesthetic had every building in Goldstone built to nearly the same height and I easily glide from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance to my target. A figure looms before me, standing on a roof, still as a statue, clad in red, pale and unearthly. Him. I stop short, reaching for a dagger. “Far from home tonight, aren’t you little Kat?” His voice is haughty, yet rich and seductive at the same time. 

For a moment I wonder if he was the stalker, but no, that wouldn’t be his way. This fiend rarely deigns to involve himself. “What do you want?” The dagger slips from its sheath. 

He laughs, a cold and mirthless sound. “You would try to challenge me, you hopelessly fearless child. I’m only here with a warning, from her.” She must be desperate to impress me if she convinced him to act as a messenger. “There is no going back from what you plan to do. So far you have been considered merely a pawn in this game, but this will change your standing, make you a target. Turn back, return to your family. You would not need to fear vengeance from him, the Black Rose will protect you.”

I roll my eyes at his words.“Like they protected Cass and my father? I’m through with others deciding my fate.”

“Yet you do this all for the man who made you a pawn in the first place, his personal weapon. In the Black Rose, you could command a greater destiny.” He holds out a hand, the invitation awaiting my response. 

I’m out of time for this. I know what loyalty to them means and I’ve had enough of it in my life. “Fight me or let me pass, either way, shut up.” 

He sighs in an intentionally dramatic manner. “As you wish.” Then he bows gracefully and takes a step back off the edge of the roof, vanishing into the night. Fantastic, another vague happening to worry about. We’ll have to figure out what his appearance portents later. 

With the way clear, I fly across the last few buildings, making a clean leap to the roof of the brothel. Fortunately, Marius usually makes use of a suite on the top floor. I’ve lost too much time to worry about subtlety. I drop down, grab the edge of the roof and propel myself forward, kicking in the window. The glass shattering in the still night sounds more like an explosion. I land and immediately draw blades. There’s a couple of frightened cries as both a young man and woman scamper from the bed. “Two cousin? Your greed really is boundless.”

He scrambles about, looking for a way to defend himself. “This is how you choose to do this Katarina?”

In truth, Marius has always been enough of a warrior that I’d rather it not be this way. But if I want the Guild there is no choice. “Get out!” I snarl at the two confounded whores and charge him. I don’t need them being a distraction. They’re quick to comply, but I won’t have long before they alert the house’s guards. 

He finally retrieves a single dagger and brings it up to block my downward slash. I over-committed while he was unarmed and can’t get away as his fist slams into my face, knocking me off balance, I lose my grip on my dagger. I reel backward, tasting blood in my mouth, as he gets his feet under him. Changing tactics, I reach for another dagger, balanced for throwing. Marius no longer knows me as he once did, I doubt he’ll predict what I’m doing. I throw it, intentionally sailing it to his right, leaving myself an open target for him. 

He takes the opportunity, pouncing at me, dagger ready for the kill. I spring out of the way, preparing my own strike. He reads what I’m doing, changing trajectory, managing to drag his blade along my stomach. It’s not deep, more of a scratch, but still, I feel a warm trickle coming from it. I’ve had enough. 

I don’t fall back, taking him by surprise. I spin, and land a kick to his knee, knocking it to the side with an audible pop. He brings the knife up in a wild defensive gesture, but I’m no longer there. Now I’m at his back, and my dagger drives deep into him, piercing a lung. He turns when I withdraw it, still trying to fight me. I plunge it into his heart, ending this. 

He falls backward, eyes wide in shock, the second of my family that I’ve stolen the life from. No time to contemplate now, I hear the thud of boots on the stairs and put my fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. Nothing. I make my exit quickly just as I hear the door behind me start to open. 

Our last meet is at one of Lark’s little hidden homes, this one a suite of rooms at the heart of an abandoned manor in Old Town. Instead of an ancient, crumbling mausoleum deserted ages ago, this one seems to have been cared for until fairly recently. The family was very likely targeted in one of Jericho’s purges. Lark is already there, casually perched on a faded damask sofa. “Oh, your poor face, good thing we waited until after Solstice. I take it you succeeded with your cousin?”

I smile, it feels hollow somehow, but I need him to feel confident in what we’ve done. “Of course, and it looks the same for you.” 

The door crashes open with Inara’s entrance, her body language exudes rage, but her eyes are strangely calm. “Somebody fucking warned him, he’s in the wind.”  There’s blood spattered everywhere on her and she clenches and unclenches her fists in rapid succession. “He had his people covering his escape, I tried to get through them.” 

I need to get her calm and rational. “Still, he’ll go to ground, he won’t be in the way while we secure our position. We’ll deal with him if he returns.”

“Whatever. Now what?” Both of them turn to me. 

“None of them will act without leadership in place. They’ll be scrabbling around to take it for themselves. Lark, you need to make sure they meet tomorrow night, that’s when we take what’s ours. For now, we part, keep yourselves secure.”

The adrenaline has started wearing off as we part ways into different ends of the city and without it, I feel the icy air razor sharp against my skin as I make my way back home. The burning in my thigh has never let up and I feel a thudding ache across my face. And yet, I am triumphant. And what of Marius, another of my kin, dead for mine and Jericho’s ambitions. We had trained and sparred together once. He was not quite as old as my father and served as a mentor when I was young. He too though turned on me when my father sought to replace me. And they all turned away from the greater good of the Empire when the finally relented to mother and chose the Pale Woman. Let him rot, he clearly was informed about what I was after and didn’t make the least effort to even contact me. Unless it was him that’s been following me. Time will tell. 

For now, I need to concentrate my efforts on finishing taking control of the Guild. Despite my initial hesitation, this would have been the path meticulously laid out for me as a child. I’m tired of being just Du Couteau’s failed daughter or the Grand General’s whore. I want to make my own fate, to leave my own legacy, to make the Guild truly mine. Despite it being for his own ends, I do owe Jericho for pushing me in this direction. His ability to read me so well is still deeply unsettling at times.

I sneak through the house as silently as possible, no windows this time. My lamps have been left on, that was kind of him. The sting of the wound demands my attention and I dig through my wardrobe to withdraw a small box. As I cut away the remnants of my clothing around it,  I realize that the best way to truly see it is to perch on my dressing table and use the mirror. It’s deep, but no major vessels have been torn, although blood still slowly drips from it. No way around it, it needs to be stitched. I growl to myself as I clean it and dab it with a numbing agent. 

I thread the needle while I wait for it to do its work. When it’s a good as it will get, I draw a deep breath, I’m still going to feel some of this. “I distinctly remember telling you to be careful.” 

“Seriously, right now! Shut up, for once, Jericho.”  The last thing I need at the moment is a smug I told you so. 

I go back to attempting to start the stitches. “You’re going to butcher that. We should get a healer.”

“No healers.” I spit through gritted teeth. I hate healers. 

He storms over and rips the needle out of my hand, dropping into the chair in front of me. “Turn around.” He motions for me to turn the wound towards him. 

 “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” This isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this, I don’t know about him. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He echoes my words from earlier in the day, is he really teasing me right now? I make a frustrated noise, give in and turn for him to look at it. “Already numb?” I nod. “Don’t flinch.”

He drives the needle through my flesh, I clench my jaw and dig my fingers into the edge of the table. I still feel each puncture and pull, somewhat muted, but I’m still clearly aware of them. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing, inhale, exhale. Finally, I feel him stop and tie off the last stitch. “There, not bad at all.”

I look down, from what I can see, he did a better job than I would have. I’m loathe to admit it though. “Only slightly crooked.” He doesn’t respond, instead, he begins wrapping it in gauze. A small pang of guilt tugs at me, that was unnecessarily mean. I look anywhere but at him. “Sorry.” I nearly whisper. 

“Don’t worry about it Kitten.” He kisses my leg softly, just above the line of gauze, my heart thuds. “Tell me how it went.” I think about everything that transpired and realize how truly, deeply tired I am. All the adrenaline has finally worn off now that I’m home and no longer bleeding and a slight foreboding- for the future takes its place. My life has changed inexorably.  Without much thought, I slide down into his lap and lean my head against his chest, yearning for that comfort I feel in his arms. For a moment he doesn’t respond and I worry he’ll push me away again. Then I feel his arms wrap around me and he kisses the top of my head. “I hope you don’t start expecting to be spoiled like this all the time.”

“No, just most of the time.” He doesn’t retort as usual for us, instead, he quietly strokes my hair for a few moments. Sometimes, I’d give anything to know exactly what he’s thinking. “Anyway, it’s been a hell of a night.”

I stay leaning against him as I detail the night’s events and I hear as he sharply inhales when I mention the warning I was sent and the messenger. “I wasn’t expecting him to be bothered to get involved.”  

I look up at him, feeling a little betrayed. “You knew it was possible though. Be honest with me, there is more to this than you’ve let me know and the Black Rose is involved.” 

He hesitates, how deep does his trust in me go. “The visions indicate there is a conspiracy of some sort. It has been endlessly frustrating trying to flush them out. Putting the Guild in your hands was one of the many steps I took to get Black Rose loyalists out of power. Other than that, I’ve been chasing shadows and waiting for them to make a mistake.” I can feel the animosity and irritation in his words, but still, he’s kept this from me. 

  “He let me go and I ended Marius, but we were exposed before we started tonight. And I’ve been followed, as you know. If I had all the information I may have planned this differently. If you want me in this with you, no more secrets.” The steel in my tone surprises even me. 

He considers my words and then lets out a sigh. “I suppose it was unfair to keep it from you.” My eyes get wide, that was entirely unexpected.  “Don’t look at me like that, I can admit when I was wrong.  I will remedy that in the future.  But for now, go get some sleep, you look tired.” 

Reluctantly I stand, gingerly putting weight on my leg. “Coming?” 

“No, I...” I glare at him, I’m not the only one who looks tired. “I’ll get the lamps first. Be right along Kitten.” 

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 1

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. Katarina/Swain

The black satin sheets were pulled up to her waist, her pale skin and fiery hair illuminated only by the moonlight. She was stunning, of course there was never a moment I didn’t find her so. Kat lay with her head resting on my chest, one arm around my waist. I could just see the outline of the small bruises that adorned her skin, neck to chest, fresh and just beginning to darken. Her closeness now was out of the ordinary, but she had been a mess, whimpering and squirming while I was leaving marks on her and then moaning herself into exhaustion. I ran my hand down her back while I was speaking and almost lost my train of thought while I contemplated all the things I’d like to do to her.

I had to admit, thus far our whole arrangement had worked out better than I could’ve imagined.  She of course had turned out to be the perfect instrument of death I had desired her to be, working exclusively for me since the demise of her father. And when she returned from assignments I’d find myself unable to resist that heady mixture of sensuality and bloodlust that was the essence of her.  

However I’d found that there was one drawback to having my own favorite exclusive assassin, it exposed to her to any number of secrets, both my own and those of the Empire. Especially given that she had at first been playing the dutiful daughter still, by her mother’s side, never speaking of what had become of her father.  That was another risk, leaving her exposed still to the cabal her parents were known to be apart of that of course still moved in the shadows, spoiling to take Noxus for its own selfish interests.

Some weeks ago I came to the conclusion something had to be done to mitigate the problems that were compounding within the situation. She’d been out in the border territories, taking care of some Governor’s trouble starting relation. The early autumn sun faded fast as I studied the map of the region laid out on the ancient oak table that took up a good portion of the study. This particular territory had been more than its fair share of trouble lately. I sat back in the high backed leather chair, reached for the glass of wine next to me, and contemplated ridding myself of every last Official there and starting over with fresh blood that would show a little more loyalty when push came to shove. The risk of open rebellion was becoming a little too concrete.

One of the maids had already been in to stoke the fire and I stared into the flickering shadows dancing over the shelves heavy with tomes and ancient volumes and the little used desk tucked in the corner. Thoughts of risks to the Empire brought me back to the question of what to do with Katarina.

Beatrice had come in from hunting and was perched close by grooming herself. “What to do with the assassin?” She gave a soft caw. “Very helpful as usual.”  The most obvious solution would be to simply kill her, go back to hiring multiple, very anonymous others to do what needed to be done.

A light tapping on the door interrupted those thoughts. “Enter.” And there she was, as though summoned by my thoughts, looking road weary but very clearly self satisfied. I rose to greet her, still weighing the options in my mind.  

“It went well, I trust.” The distance between us shrinking to mere inches.

A coy smiled played about her lips, but the blue of her sparked with excitement. “But of course. There may have been a small amount of collateral damage though…”

My arms wrapped around her waist and roughly pulled her against me. “You were being reckless.” I growled in her ear.

I felt her shiver against me as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Hmm, that doesn’t sound like me at all.”

I could kill her now, just be done with what was certainly the inevitable. Much like the first time I had been in this situation though I found I simply didn’t desire to. She excelled at what she did and her loyalty had been unimpeachable thus far. I felt her lips trace my jawline. Still, something had to give.

I leaned in and kissed her roughly feeling my thoughts begin to cloud from the heat of her body pressed to mine. She tilted her head back, as I made my way down her neck, her breath turning to soft sighs. That’s when the solution came to me. She couldn’t betray me if she were more firmly under my control, made to be dependent on me, never far from my influence.

I left off my attentions on her and she sighed disappointedly. “Pressing business elsewhere?” She was irritated but her words still came out in a breathy whisper.

I disentangled myself from her, if she refused she’d leave me little choice but to put things to a permanent end. “No, but there’s something that’s been on my mind as of late that needs to be settled. You cannot continue to work for me and have my trust when you are in a position to be poisoned by outside influence.”

“And?” She ran a hand through her hair, the tell I’d made her nervous, and then crossed her arms. Curious, despite that nervousness her mind hadn’t gone down the path mine had. Foolish girl, did she actually trust me?

I put more distance between us, the last thing I needed was her to get any idea what I was about to propose had any sentimentality attached to it. “You will take up residence here, where I can make sure you are loyal. You’ll be well provided for and will continue to work for me as I need…”

She cut me off abruptly, her eyes flashing with a sudden fury. “Really, that’s your solution? To turn me into your property? “ Her voice is raised enough I know we can be overheard. “And no doubt you’ll expect more than just killing from me.”

Interesting, I hadn’t anticipated she’d be incensed by the idea. I remain calm, I know her well enough that matching her sudden fury will only make her more stubborn.  “Of course not, though it wouldn’t be unwelcome.  Is it really all that different than our current circumstance?”

“Of course it is, it’s you trying to control me entirely.” She makes a point of looking away from me.

I didn’t bother denying it. Seconds crawled by while I awaited her answer. Maybe I’d misread her entirely and perhaps she would refuse. I clenched my fist unconsciously, preparing for it.

“Fine.” She finally spat, arms still crossed, turning back to fix a glare on me. “Mother is insufferable anyway.”

For a moment I pondered exactly what she was thinking saying yes when she seemed to find the whole thing distasteful.I never bothered to ask her reasons, in truth it didn’t matter. I had her compliance and really that was all that was necessary.

That was what brought us to where we were now. Kat had taken residence in the rooms next door to mine, connected by a small discrete hall behind the two suites. The place that would have been reserved for a spouse if I’d ever married. Keeping the woman who was essentially now my mistress there would have scandalized my parents noble sensibilities, which added a small bit of appeal to the whole thing.

She’d gotten over her anger after a few days of stubbornly not speaking to me. Eventually coming out of her room to join me for dinner. which ended with her in my lap assuring me we had an understanding and she was satisfied with how things had worked out while sucking drops of wine off my fingertips.

I didn’t require her to kill often, many of mine and the Empire’s enemies had been dealt with. I kept her reserved for the most pressing of occasions. However that meant that more often I found myself with her like this, not just sharing physical intimacy, but conversing, trading ideas and opinions. As there aren’t many people I trust, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome to have another perspective from time to time.

Where was I? I focused my thoughts away from the temptations of her. Ah yes, Frejlord. “That’s why I’m going there personally.”

“Well, just be sure not to freeze to death.” She needled, but I was about to ruin her enjoyment of my possible discomfort.

“You can stop being smug, you’re coming with.”

That little smirk instantly turned into a grimace and a dramatic sigh. “What did I do to deserve that?”

I ran my hand through her hair. “Don’t be petulant. Have you been getting too spoiled lately, Kitten?” Something akin to a growl comes from her. I know the nickname irritates her, but her reaction is too irresistible.

“You know I hate that.” And she throws a soft punch connecting with my shoulder before trying to roll away from me.

She’s not fast enough, I trap her against me and lightly smack her bottom. “See, incredibly spoiled.” By this point she’s trying and failing to not laugh. She sticks her tongue out before settling back down on me. “And very immature.”

“I thought this trip was diplomacy only. I don’t see why I’m necessary.” She stretches a bit and yawns.

“I’d rather have all the options available than not.”

“Hmm, if you insist. At least tell me we’ll leave the bird at home. “ Bea makes an indignant noise from her perch.

“Don’t be cruel, you know she likes you.” I continue to go into particulars for a couple of minutes until I glance down and notice her eyes are closed. “Kat?” No response, she’s completely out.

We have a few rules, one of those is that we always sleep separately. It’s my mistake for letting her stay as long as I did. I should wake her and send her off to her room but it is late and she did just return from an assignment. I sigh and pull the covers up around her shoulders, one night will likely not harm anything.

I hear LeBlanc’s words from the Council meeting this morning where we went over the plans for the north.  “Are you just dragging your little pet along so you don’t get lonely up there.” Her poison smile mocking as ever. I’d kill her if I could figure out how.

Kat shifts and her arm wraps back around my waist, without thinking I kiss the top of her head. I simply have to control the situation and be more careful in the future.

[tragedybunny]

I wanted to do something fun and do a reblog with a song from my playlist that I think fits the chapter.

So here's this chapter's song.

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 10

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. 

Lady Montrose has an old family name, an old family Manor, and an even older idea of how society should function. She also has a vast fortune to put behind her ideas, which is why most of them have flocked here. Of course these days the once great lady is a mere puppet for her grandson, Augustus. It is he who greets the guests and acts as host, a child playing dress-up, pretending to greatness.

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