Disclaimer: We all know the characters belong to Riot. I just like to play house with them.

Short Author's Note: No, your eyes are not deceiving you. I finally updated after almost 8 months (has it been SO long?).

Chapter 17 - Telling Time

"I don't understand." The blade-master said suddenly, cutting off Iona's long and detailed explanation on how to reach Irelia's abode. The maelstrom of learnings and thoughts whirled in her mind and she desperately sought answers to key questions. There were just so many that she decided to start with the one that had been bugging her the most.

Iona paused patiently and sent her a serene smile. "What, dear?"

"That!" She exclaimed, her brow creasing swiftly. "I don't understand you! You're supposed to be every Noxian's terror! You're supposed to want me hanged or boiled for defiling your daughter or even for being who I am! Instead you act all motherly and caring! Why don't you hate me?!"

Through all this tirade, the ninja mistress eyed her guest silently. That was what was iffying her? "Oh, Katarina, I could never hate you." She replied with an easy chuckle.

"Why?! I'm a Noxian after all! You're supposed to hate all Noxians, especially females!" The redhead exploded, throwing her arms into the air. Normally she wouldn't be that expressive with her body, but after the emotional roller-coaster she was subjected to, it was natural.

"Are you, really?" The older killer asked with a knowing grin. Katarina's exile was known to almost every high-power player in the game of politics in Valoran, after all. It was kind of beating a dead horse to bring it up, but it was a good argument.

"Well..."

Stifling the urge to console her pseudo-niece, Iona continued undeterred. "I cannot hate you because of "who you are". You are your mother's daughter. You were the entire world to her and I will respect her wishes. Even if your sister came here, I'd treat her the same. It's as simple as that."

Her words resonated deep within the former Noxian's mind. How could someone love another so unconditionally that they'd ignore the other's offspring's shortcomings and still embrace them as their own? While she had heard about these attitudes, it made it even more remarkable coming from someone who dealt with death on a daily basis. Iona's character was tempered via trials and tribulations, but it showed that it did not sour her mellow side if she was able to show such compassion.

A knot grew in Katarina's throat, overwhelmed by the emotion Akali's mother submitted her to. After losing her mother to her terminal disease, a rift had opened wide in the Du Couteau household and in the heiresses' hearts, even if Cassiopeia was too young to remember. Their father had thrown himself into his work to deal with the grief, forsaking them but not ignoring them completely. Due to this and the lack of permanent servants to act as guardians or tutors in their earlier years, the sisters had to deal with the loss by their own methods.

While it was temporal until their father came to his senses, it marked them for life. The senior sibling had decided that the pain she had gone through was to be avoided at all costs and shut it away very far in the recesses of her heart, along with every emotion associated with it. The cold, analytical but impulsive Katarina was born that day, shedding away any show of caring for her family. In her mind, any display of affection would foment her love and would in turn open the door for that heartache that tormented her childhood, embracing the Noxian motto of "love weakens". It was at that time that Cassiopeia had lost her Mittens.

Their father had tried his best to shower them with attention but the damage had already been done. There were faint scenes of Katarina's love for her family, but they were so far and few that they simply assumed she wasn't capable of such.

Until Akali burst into her life. A Ionian destined to be a shackled slave to her throne had showed her the light again.

A Ionian, her supposed enemy, had kick-started her emotional side.

Was she capable of forgoing her enmity against other Ionians if the need came?

"Get up. Now." The growled command let no doubt that it came with resentment. Days of receiving the same treatment made it painfully clear.

The downed assassin shook her head from her memories and tried as best as she could to squelch the rising biting retort. Wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand, she sent a ferocious glare at her trainer. Answering back only resulted in more training or a brutal and relentless "spar" with the Will of Blades.

Irelia did not even flinch, instead replying with her own scathing glare. "Now."

Katarina obeyed with what little strength she had, her legs refusing to act correctly though, and she faltered. Her energy was at an all-time low after the slave-driver that was Irelia sent her through her own regime. Hours upon hours of long drills and exercises left her body as solid as jelly and her mind unfocused. If she didn't know better, she'd assume the dark-haired woman had something against her with the almost inhuman way she was treating her. She needn't voice her thoughts to know the Captain of the Guard was using her as a scapegoat to vent her long-standing resentment towards anything Noxian. "What's next?" She asked once she got to her feet wobblingly. Complaining did nothing but worsen her situation, she learned quickly.

Something unidentifiable crossed Irelia's eyes, but soon disappeared. She seemed to think about something for a second in silence. "We are done for today. You know what to do." With that, she turned around and walked off in the direction of her rather sizable home.

Katarina sighed. Grabbing her mother's blade and placing it at her hip within the sash in typical samurai fashion, she followed her master's footsteps with apprehension, intent on cleaning up before resting. She had dealt with teachers like these in her early days at the Noxian Academy and in her home with her father's hand-picked instructors, but it was different knowing there was a very good reason for the animosity displayed by the Ionian blade-master and she had every right to materialize her resentment.

The Noxian invasion of the Ionian islands had almost succeeded had it not been for that woman's selfless efforts. But it was not a complete victory for the practitioner of the Hiten style after her family fell in the early stages of the war, leaving her by her lonesome. It was not a hard line of thought to assume she developed a deep hatred towards Noxians after such events.

She couldn't fault her at all.

As the water ran all over her body, removing the grime and dirt from a long day of practice, Katarina Du Couteau ascertained that both of them weren't that far dissimilar. Both had lost their families and the resentment towards the culprits had moulded them into what they were today.

That did not mean she liked being trounced every single day.

Turning around in her bed, the light of the moon shined brightly over her face through the folds of the curtain in the window. It made it difficult to catch some shut-eye even if her body all but demanded it.

Growling under her breath, she decided to grab a glass of water and see if sleep would come to her later. She pulled the covers away and hissed when the cold floor sizzled her feet. With hurried steps, Katarina shuffled her feet into a pair of simple sandals and threw her travel-cloak over her shoulders.

Irelia's house was silent as a grave in the late hours of the night, and the cold of autumn was seeping in through the cracks. It forced the redhead to snuggle her cloak closer to herself as she made her way through the corridors towards the kitchen. Soon enough the freezing winter of Ionia would come in and things would become slightly difficult for the ill-clothed assassin. Katarina knew she'd receive no respite from her forced host and would have to endure it as she could.

There was no sign of her mentor around the darkened rooms, but it was expected considering the time.

Reaching the kitchen, she served herself a quick drink and walked towards the small living room in the house, intent on watching the night sky through the considerably big window standing there and guarded from the nocturnal chill. Just as she sat on the window sill and took a sip of the cool water, a shuffling sound called her attention. Snapping her head in its direction, senses heightened thanks to years of combat, she slowly scanned her surroundings, looking for what caused the disturbance. A moment later she noticed a figure lying on the sofa in front of her. It was hard to discern what it was, but in a few seconds her eyesight got used to the darkness.

A crimson eyebrow raised high when she took notice of Irelia slumbering on the relatively uncomfortable sitting adornment. Well, something like slumbering, if her shivering was anything to go by. Was that awkward foetal position even pleasant? Never mind that, what was she doing outside of bed? Had something happened? Looking around, she found a book fallen next to the couch and chuckled when she reached the obvious conclusion. Her teacher had fallen asleep reading.

Should she wake her up, though? Maybe some revenge was in order for the tyrannical onslaught she had been subjected to? It was only fitting to teach her some manners.

Iona would certainly be not pleased, though.

That thought surprised her more than it should have. Since when was Iona a figure to be respected in her life? Take some advice, yeah, sure, but to base her actions upon what she'd say?

With a grumble, she trekked back to her room and pulled a blanket from her bed before walking back to where Irelia lay. Grumbling about obnoxious mother-in-laws and senseless mentors, she covered the bluette with the cover snugly. With one last look at her slave-driver, Katarina huffed and once again returned to her bed, this time fixed on getting some sleep.

She was above such petty revenge, and if the Will of the Blades got sick, she might be even more strict. No, better stay away from that. She rather liked being healthy and alive.

Back in the living room, Irelia unconsciously relaxed her shivering and shook the cover closer to herself instinctively, a small pleased smile stretching on her lips, completely unaware of her student's actions.

"Jericho Swain, for his appointment." The heavily armoured guard stated, his posture stiff and zero-nonsense after years of conditioning and training.

The vast room was a palette of lifeless colours, with its dark curtains, mahogany terminations and sombre atmosphere. While many would address such a place as a mortuary, it was nothing as such.

Considering how the darkness of the site crept up on you if you were unsuspecting, it was not much of a surprise this place was the heart of Noxus. The private study of Boram Darkwill was reclusive enough that only a handful of people were allowed and of those most were his guards.

Jericho Swain had been favoured with such an honour just for this instance due to the nature of his meeting. On the surface, he meant to go in-depth about the changes rumoured about High Command members but in fact he wanted to forward his own agenda.

It was no secret that in recent years Noxus' growth became stale, mostly because of the permanent militaristic budget and philosophy in times of peace. The Emperor would not lend an ear to the pleas of changing his expenditures and instead having the complainers hanged. The message clear enough: Noxus was a dictatorship. No naysayers would be allowed to run rampant.

Swain shared the same belief that his city-state should stand at the top of Valoran since it was the greatest of them all, but he had enough vision to understand that the lower echelons of society could not be swept aside. Every single place in the pyramid had a task to fulfil. Darkwill seemed to not care about this, letting his people suffer and slowly becoming discontent with his rule.

It was no surprise Swain wanted to dethrone the Emperor due to this and many more associated events. Someone with power had to step up and cease this brainless reign of terror. Rule with an iron fist? Sure, Noxians were used to the harsh conditions, but that did not mean people itself should be ignored. Desperate people did desperate things. Impossible to plan against desperate things.

At first the Commander bid his time, analyzing Darkwill's stance and movements, waiting for him to change his approach after every session of the High Command where every issue was presented.

Years later and no change forced the Strategist into action, electing to take matters into his own hands. Using various sleight of hand tactics and taking advantage of the intricate Noxian law system, Swain redirected some funds into the pertinent areas of society that would better his chances to become Grand High Commander. There was no chance he would do charity out of the good of his heart. He was a Noxian through and through, after all.

He gained the ear of many soon enough. And while he dared not make a public speech about Darkwill's unhealthy management of his city, seeds of unrest were planted among the populace. Darkwill's reign of terror quickly snuffed most of them, though, but there were some that remained, some that had their mind opened.

But after no alteration to the situation, Swain's patience bled dry. If puppeteering behind the scenes got nothing done, then he needed to attack the issue differently. He decided to use a tactic that would please Darius, charging head-on with brutal blows.

Darkwill needed to die for his plans to forward if he would not bend to his whispered suggestions, and if subterfuge failed, then face-to-face assassination was the way to go.

Thus, his coming to his study. Tonight, Darkwill would be six feet under. It was high time change came to Noxus and it was only fitting it began at its top.

"Ah, yes."Darkwill replied looking up from his book. Motioning curtly, and non-welcoming at all, he pointed at the chair in front of him. With quiet but calculated steps, Swain acquiesced and fell into the comfortable seat. The emperor of Noxus eyed his guest critically, intent on not letting him be comfortable in his den."You requested this meeting, Swain." He stated after a few seconds, reminding the Strategist not to dawdle. His time was of essence to be wasted waiting for someone to speak.

"Yes, Emperor." Swain replied instantly, using the last few seconds he had to gather his thoughts about how to tackle this too direct could cause Darkwill to be instantly on the defensive and clam up about his actions. However, he had to be direct as well or else this meeting would quickly be called off. "It has come to my attention that a certain group of individuals intend on gather a front to assault a few Piltovian posts on our western borders."

"On my orders."Boram confirmed with a short nod.

"Economically, I understand the move. Politically, however, it is a backwards move, considering the state of High Command after recent events sowed dissent in its ranks." Swain explained slowly, trying to get his point across but not angering his leader."Our borders are well protected in this time of peace, but this could be considered an act of war. The Institute won't be pleased and if the fallout falls on us, then High Command would be less than joyful."

"I assure you, Swain. I don't lose any sleep about what the High Command does or doesn't concerning my government." The youthful leader said arrogantly. "You shouldn't concern yourself with such trifle matters either."

Jericho's brow furrowed in discontent. Why was he dismissing his warning so carelessly? Was he so arrogant to believe he could withstand the might of the whole High Command?

Clearly his underestimation would be the downfall of him soon enough.

The man had grown complacent in his throne, forgoing military training for more planning and warmongering under the table with covert ops such as the one he had brought to light.

Maybe he needed it spelled to him.

"You should tread carefully, Emperor. General Du Couteau did not choose wisely and now he vanished." Swain's jaw clenched in disgust. The man in front of him was the main hurdle between him and the realization of a lifetime of planning. He would have to force his hand and take the opportunity that night. Who knew when he would be in private with the Emperor again?

Darkwill's narrowing of his eyes spoke volumes of what was on his mind, but he did not voice such thoughts. Instead, he studied his guest carefully for long, tense seconds.

Noxus' emperor got up and trekked to a cabinet near his desk. Opening the doors, he noticed from the corner of his eyes how Swain tensed. The dark grin that covered his face when he pulled a bottle from within and served himself a drink was vicious.

The youthful leader grin turned lopsided, much like the eldest female Du Couteau, and walked back to his seat, his hand playing with the glass in it. "Are you afraid, Jericho Swain?"

Something in the dark tone of the emperor sent a chill down the Strategist's back, but he quickly contained the feeling, knowing it was his body's reaction to the predatory aura Darkwill was oozing. He did not fear the man. He knew after so long Noxus' leader had gone without battle, he had the upper hand considering he was under constant training in the Institute of War. Darkwill had nothing on the insurmountable hill of power that was the combined might of the champions he had to face on a daily basis. How could he show weakness in light of such a thing?

It was ludicrous.

So ludicrous that a laugh escaped the normally stoic raven-master."Afraid, Darkwill?" He laughed again, this time a boisterous, proud laugh. "No, no. Quite the contrary. Your intimidation tactics fall very short of their goal. Maybe if you don't spend so much of your time rousing conflict behind that desk and polishing your offensive approach it wouldn't be so pitiful."

"Is that a challenge?"Boram replied confidently, a brow raised high and his lopsided grin widening.

Swain's head dipped forward, his eyes flashing dangerously as his whole stance turned feral. "Damn right it is." He growled.

The emperor lackadaisically raised his hand and pointed at the door. His security entourage, who had been eyeing the raven-master with hard eyes immediately nodded and filed out of the room, leaving the two men to their dispute. As soon as the armoured men got out, Darkwill eyed his guest once again. "Where were we?" He said flexing his knuckles, some popping in place.

"Your pride will be your downfall. You should've asked them to help you." The strategist stated, getting to his feet and his full stature. Beatrice cackled on her perch on his shoulder for the first time during the meeting, sensing his master's call to arms.

It was Darkwill's turn to be mirthful. "Oh, the woes of the young ones..." He said cryptically, closing his eyes and cracking his neck. "Tonight will be such a sad night... Noxus will lose one of its childs..."

"Or its father!" Swain bellowed as a battle cry, morphing mid-way to the emperor into his raven form and launching his attack swiftly, not letting the defendant raise any guard.

He was a few feet away when he sensed something was wrong, but it was too late to stop now. He was too close to Darkwill to cease his assault. It wasn't until Darkwill's eyes opened that he understood what was wrong.

The glowing eyes of the emperor froze him in place.

"You dared to dance with death, Jericho Swain."Darkwill said ominously, his tone unearthly hollow and deep. "Now follow the steps!"

When the emperor's aura slammed into Swain, he knew he had miscalculated.

The power of such a presence was uncanny. Just his sheer aura was enough to root him in place, him who had front-lined several of Noxus' armies into battle!

And then Darkwill moved.

Or rather disappeared from his senses.

Swain only felt pain.

"Swain?" A familiar voice called from a dark passage.

The Master Strategist halted in the middle of the corridor of the Noxian court, out of any bystander's eyes, and looked over his shoulder at the one who had interrupted his busy schedule. "Yes, LeBlanc?"

From the shadows stepped forth Emilia LeBlanc, clad in her classic revealing attire, complete with her flower-like headpiece and her peculiar magical staff clutched tautly within her grasp. A dark smirk adorned her normally attractive features, but those who truly knew her understood that without that grin, it would not be the plotting mastermind that was the leader of the Black Rose. Everything else was smoke and mirrors."Tell me, Strategist, how did your meeting fare?" She asked in a very obvious false sweet voice.

The Noxian General stared for a few moments, as if sizing her up to dignify her with an answer, then, shooting back a smirk, he spoke. "As well as it could have been."

"Excellent then. Am I to assume that your plans are moving forward at the planned pace?" LeBlanc almost purred. She loved when things went the way she wanted. Which was almost every time.

Jericho nodded. "Yes. Darkwill has been favourable in cooperating with them."

The mage faltered in her reply for a full second, emotionlessly scanning Swain's expression. This was not what was planned. "He was?" She asked just an instant before it became too obvious she was stalling.

"Oh, yeah." He said confidently, firmly placing both of his hands on his cane to straighten his pose. "He showed me the errors of my previous plans and presented several improvements that I approve of."

LeBlanc's face contorted into a serious frown. Something had happened to his pseudo-ally during his meeting with Darkwill. There was no way he would listen to whatever drivel the emperor would say after so long planning and polishing the steps forward to remove the man from his throne. Whatever had taken place had changed Swain into a puppet of sorts. It was the only explanation for his change of heart.

Further investigation was needed.

With a hasty farewell, Emilia backtracked into the shadows, observing as the General limped away with sharp and distrustful eyes. She never liked the scarred general, but knew better than most the uses for people in power. After all, it was not the people on the throne that held all the cards but the puppeteers pulling the strings in the dark.

Further investigation indeed. She mused frustratedly. Rubbing the back of her neck, she tried to sooth the ache of her overworked body. Evoin's words to enjoy life more from his invasion to her study a while back resounded in her mind but she pushed them aside. This was not the time.

She would get to the bottom of this.

Deep in the dark maws of the earth existed a forgotten cave. Within its confines, unadulterated by the hand of men, nothing lived. It was an unknown breach in the ground and impossible to reach by normal manners.

There was no sound produced except for the very occasional drip of water falling from a stalactite into a shallow pond. Sometimes a crack would echo along the walls when the continental plates moved. But aside from that very rare occurrence, the cave wasn't of any remark. It was just another inhospitable crack in the earth where nothing happened and no one cared about.

What made this one special, though, was the event that happened every three months and two days.

After that lapse of time passed, a bonfire was lit in the main hall of the cave, chasing away the darkness and heating up several meters around it, warding off the cold.

Around this flames, six figures shrouded in their personally made cloaks met.

"Demacia grows suspicious."A man sitting on a throne made of earth spoke, his tone deep and imposing.

"Of course it does. It's the only thing they do." A second man, cloaked in metal replied in a particularly growling fashion.

"Ah, but they have good reason to do so now, don't they?" A woman clad in fire rebutted playfully, her legs extended outside of her seat and her arms hanging loosely over the armrest. "What with Du Couteau's sudden exile the Noxians are clearly changing things. You can't be surprised when Demacians are even more paranoid for their "peace" than Noxus for their warmongering."

"How is Du Couteau relevant?" A clueless lady enveloped by clothes of water inquired.

Everyone in the group except Water sighed. The lost woman blinked.

"Du Couteau herself is irrelevant, Water. Even her father gone doesn't matter either." Earth replied shortly. "Exiling one of their top poster-children and making one of their main generals disappear is new in Noxus, so that means change. The last time change happened in Noxus, it was when we infiltrated it, and you remember how much things were different after that."

Water's face lit up in understanding. "I see!"

Metal tsked. "What's the word from Noxus' High Command, Shadow?"

A burly man surrounded by curtains of dark stepped away from leaning against the cavern's wall. "Nothing much. They still have no idea who planted the evidence and are at a loss as to how one of their most dedicated turned traitor. It was easy enough to influence them into our agenda, though, and they are very willing to close the Du Couteau case as a mental breakdown."

"Good." The final member, a woman with windy garbs spoke evenly. "What of Du Couteau's development?"

Silence followed the inquiry.

"I fail to understand that girl's significance for us." Fire spoke wary of their leader's reaction to the almost unheard of lack of information. "She's just an unlucky girl that was born in the wrong gamily at the wrong moment."

"She's my catalyst." Wind replied quickly but without any anger or sign of irritation in her tone.

More silence followed.

"Are you... sure, Wind?" Water asked uncharacteristically sharp. A catalyst was a serious matter to all members of their congregation.

"Yes. The few encounters I had with her made it clear. She's the one for me." Wind stated quietly, knowing the implications of such discoveries.

Fire's tingling laugh resounded in the cave, attracting the attention of everyone. They were forced to wait until the fiery lady ceased with her merriment for her to explain. "That sounded so incredibly corny!" She breathed through a huge grin.

It was a testament to the many years the group had been together when even the stoic Wind chuckled, seeing the humour in her words and how they could be twisted into another sense.

Once the enjoyment ended, their leader spoke. "Find out what's going on with my catalyst and Ionia's Captain of the Guard. My catalyst is not pleased at all with her situation, I can feel her frustration."

"Do we aid her?"Shadow asked.

"You have done enough." Fire replied curtly. "I'll keep an eye on her, Wind."

Soon enough, the lighting was snuffed, the ashes dispersed and no sign of the group could be found until their next meeting, three months and two days later.

Katarina's eyes snapped open to an engulfing darkness. Slowly, as she gathered her bearings, her sight adjusted to the low-light environment.

But even before that, her sense of touch said enough about her present location.

The smooth covers of the bed she had been using in Irelia's home for the last four months were enveloping her like a cocoon and her head was perched on the rock-hard pillow her host had all but thrown at her the first night she had spent there.

She was still in Irelia's personal hell.

The redhead tiredly looked around, trying to understand what had woken her up, but came up empty-handed. Only her parching throat could be a possibility.

Knowing that reconciling with sleep would be next to impossible, and if how bright the moon was shining in the sky was how late it was, Katarina decided to try go for a stroll with a glass of water. Like every single night her brain betrayed her need for sleep for the last four months, the cold floor of Irelia's abode burned the soles of her feet when she swung her legs off the mattress. Hissing in discomfort, she grabbed a thin travel-coat Iona had packed in the backpack she had been given and made her way outside after a short stop in the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

The night had the characteristic autumn cool, but shared enough of the summer warmth to not be uncomfortable. Peering around, the trees moved faintly in the light breeze and even some fireflies were dancing in the distance. It was a great night to be outside with a few layers of clothing. Perhaps one of the last ones before spring.

Stepping quietly, she breathed in the calm of the evening and let her feet take her wherever. The destination did not matter.

They decided to follow a barely used path that ran around the mansion and into the small woods sitting behind the building.

As she walked, her curiosity was piqued and her steps became firmer. She had not come to these parts of Irelia's land before, despite sometimes having free roam of the premises. The thick trees were welcoming and smooth to the touch, almost as a sign of good will. Even the ground, which was normally rough and unforgiving on uncovered feet where she trained, was now incredibly soft and pleasant to move on. The whole forest screamed calm and understanding. It was an uncanny feeling for a violent creature such as herself.

Moving through the woods, though, she could feel her aggressiveness ebb away slowly, letting a soothing feeling she rarely felt embrace her. A very soft breeze blew through the branches and leaves of the trees and bolstered her spirit in ways only nature could. Breathing deeply, her eyes roamed everywhere, taking in the beauty of the greens and browns illuminated by the moon high above.

Until she noticed an orange-tinted bright light in the distance, similar to waving flames. Frowning slightly at the disturbance, she decided to inspect it and redirected her steps in its direction. She knew being in an unknown environment chasing mystical lights was a bad idea. Many perished being fooled by evil spirits and creatures this way. The idea that something evil lurked in this peaceful forest seemed so alien that she quickly discarded it.

Once she reached the source of the light, she froze in surprise.

The light was a large bonfire sitting in the middle of a clearing, several meters away from any tree. Doubtlessly man-made, the fire had the classic Ionian style of stacking the logs in a square.

But it was not the flames what surprised the former Noxian, but rather who was present.

There, dancing in front of the flames clad in a skimpy summer dress, was Irelia. A large grin was stretched on her usually stoic features as she pranced, twirled, skipped and spun around. All of that in sync with her signature blade following and even complimenting her actions, almost like a metal dance partner she could direct with only a thought.

It was most mesmerizing to stare the Captain of the Guard have the time of her life with such a simple thing. The spectacle lasted for a few more minutes until Irelia took notice of her spectator and she halted her enjoyment.

In an instant, the usual no-nonsense had returned as her mask of indifference covered her visage. "Du Couteau." She almost growled.

The change of atmosphere was just as swift. The air turned oppressive, the ground harsh and even the heat was searing.

"Ah!" Katarina exclaimed embarrassedly, her tongue tying up when she meant to apologize for intruding.

"You are to leave tomorrow." The Captain of the Guard stated suddenly and firmly and turned around, intent on gathering her things.

"I'm sor- wait, what?!" Her eyes bulged out.

"You heard me right. Leave my home tomorrow morning."The bluette repeated, this time almost offensively.

Was she so offended she had breached her privacy? Swallowing an angry retort, Katarina also pushed down her ego and spoke. "I'm sorry if my intrusion-"She started but was quickly interrupted by the Ionian.

"This has nothing to do with you being here now. I am done having you around every day. Whatever Iona promised you by coming here was a lie." It was not the words that left Katarina flabbergasted, rather the non-plussed tone she used to utter them.

She could hardly believe her ears. She was kicking her out?! After everything she had to stand? Every insult and gruelling exercise? She was being left empty-handed? Mt. Du Couteau quickly reached dangerous temperatures. "You were supposed to teach me! That's why I came here! That's why I stood up to your barbaric training! And now you're telling me to get lost? I need your help!"

The fighter didn't even twitch."And I care how?"

It was a testament to how much used to Irelia's attitude she had become when instead of jumping the woman and pummelling her like she almost did to Iona back when they spoke, she only scrunched her face in disgust and kept a tight lid on her fury. She was very tempted to assault Irelia, if only it didn't prove the bluette right in her being opposed to wanting a Noxian around. That did not mean she could not voice her frustrations. "You know, I respected you once. Even as a Ionian, I respected your resolve and strength to stand up to the Noxian army and hold them back. That takes massive balls. You were the reason the invasion of Ionia failed, no matter how much the higher-ups try to deny it."

Irelia just raised a curious brow at the redhead's tirade, trying to understand what was she getting at.

"I know you are a pivotal character in Ionia's political clout as well as the Institute and are a symbol for your people." Katarina took a deep breath. She might be on the receiving end of a beating, but for god's sake, she needed to get it off her chest! "I forgot all that when I came to your home and saw the real you. Becoming disenchanted of how you were behind the mask of Ionia's champion, you showed your true colours and lost any semblance of respect I had for you." Her eyes almost glowed in fury and her fists were so tight she almost drew blood, even her posture was impossibly tense. "You are a nothing more than a fucking racist and vengeful bitch bent on reliving the past. I don't fucking care how powerful you are, you are a heartless bitch that only cares for herself. You spit on every Ionian tradition of understanding and inner peace and I'm glad I didn't learn anything from you in case I turn into another you. Good night and I fucking hope our paths never cross again."

Katarina turned around and walked away, daring the Ionian to strike her in the back and prove her words. If the Ionian still had some semblance of valour and chivalrousness, Katarina would soon be out of her hair, harmlessly.

No attack came, though, and she exited the woods just as quietly as she had entered them. This time, she was much calmer, having gotten that weight off her shoulders. Her steps became light by themselves as a calmness similar to the one in the woods burst forth from within. Months of tension dispersed left her airy and oddly in sync with herself and almost bubbling with euphoria.

Looking back over her shoulder, the redhead was surprised to not feel any regret about the harsh words. She had said some very hurtful things, even if she wouldn't admit it to anyone.

She shrugged and went into the mansion to pack her things.

Bitch had it coming.

Mittens,

I know this letter will never reach because I will never send it, but it needs to be written. I need to get it out of my system.

I miss you, sis. I miss you badly every waking moment. You are my anchor and my guiding light when things go south. Ever since we were kids I knew I could depend on you to be my lighthouse in the dark and stormy seas that was our life. You were always there when I needed someone, perhaps not with warm words or a touching gesture, but with your characteristic way of forcing me to keep going.

When you left for the military, I feared for you. Not because you'd fail, I knew you were destined for greatness, but because I feared you'd lose yourself in the horrors of war.

When you came back from the failed Ionian invasion, I only had to take one look at your eyes to know you had changed. Whatever light had been in them was gone. Your eyes looked hollow and lost. In time they regained their brilliance, but I understood why it happened. Father was too busy with High Command and I had been absorbed with getting out of your shadow to take notice until it was too late.

You had bottled everything away to keep us safe and not worry about you.

In spite of it slowly eating you away and destroying you from the inside, you kept a strong front to keep us from stopping our progress.

You sacrificed your spiritual and mental health just so dad and I could sleep peacefully at night.

I love you, sis.

I will never believe those liars when they spew whatever slandering drivel about you. You are beyond those petty idiots.

When you were convicted of treason and exiled, I went to prison to get you out of the city one last time. When I opened the cell andsaw you lifelessly hanging by some chains, my life almost ended there. My beautiful, strong and selfless sister had been destroyed and only a vague shell of her remained.

Soon after, you left me to chase whatever had stripped you of your birthrights. I selfishly tried to keep you to myself, to cuddle you and keep you away from the big, bad world that almost took you away from me. I knew I couldn't. You deservepeace of mind more than anyone else. Your example of self-sacrifice was something I tried to emulate but I couldn't do it fully.

I still slash around with your blade when it becomes too much. I even got Talon to teach me a few things about using it.

I miss you so very much, sis. It's been a long, long five months without you around. I hope you're having success and will come back soon to me. I'll even cook you your favourite while we trade stories! And you know how much I hate cooking...

Please, sis. Stay safe and come back soon.

Cassie.

A few miles away from the estate of the Captain of the Guard's, Katarina walked on the rocky pathways under the rising sun behind her. The morning light was almost non-existent, the moon still illuminating several parts of her path and shadowing several others, making the normally risky route a dangerous death-wish.

But all that didn't bother the blade-master. She readjusted her trusty backpack on her shoulders on a particularly bothersome rock and continued stepping forward and dodging dark boulders.

She didn't care she wasn't any closer to finding who had ruined her life. She didn't care she had no destination in mind. She didn't care she was trekking through dangerous and deadly rocky formations several miles away from her only family.

That morning, a bright smile stretched on her lips.

She was free! No more getting up at ungodly hours! No more puking her guts out every day because she was overworked! No more suffering Irelia!

She was free at last!

It didn't matter things would go back to normal in a day or two.

For now, she'd ride her wave of happiness. Soon enough, guilty thoughts would creep their way back into her mind about the bastard who stabbed her in the back and things would return to what they were. Her merriment cancelled those acidic moments and would do so for a while.

"Free!" She bellowed, scaring a bird that had been perched close by, observing her progress. Turning around a corner, she made a childish twirl. Her steps almost turned into a complicated dance to move around the difficult and thin passage. Only a few feet separated her from the walls of the hill and assured death by free-fall.

Nothing could dampen her mood now!

No event could ruin her morning!

No suffering-

Except that loose rock she had just skipped on she had missed with the low light of sunrise.

Her eyes widened in surprise when her footing suddenly collapsed down the ravine of the hill she had been descending. Being so preoccupied with the day's development and how it happened so fast left her normally acute response time useless.

She tried to balance herself to try and jump off the deadly stone, but once the rock smashed onto another, it started to spin. Panic filled her system but she forced her body to push it down as best as she could. She knew every second of coherent thought would make the difference between making it out of there with a few scrapes and a new story or disappearing forever between Ionian rocks. Moving her feet quickly, she tried to keep steady by flailing her arms.

Her impromptu vehicle jumped when it smacked against an obstacle and her blood ran cold. She could see the walls of the hill getting out of her reach too quickly and the rushing wind rustling her hair.

That was when the rock she was riding hit once again and she was launched forward without any chance of recovery.

Katarina yelped in shock, feeling her control slipping away from her but it was for naught. She knew things were bleak.

She tried not to look down when she felt no support to place her feet on. She really did, but she needed to assess her situation to try and discern some way to get out of it.

She immediately wished she hadn't.

Below her, there was nothing but meters of air and unforgiving rock.

Her world froze once the true terror of the moment sunk in. There was nothing to break her fall except stones. Nothing but air. If she had a low chance of survival before when she was surfing on a rock, it immediately dropped to zero.

Then gravity restarted everything and her blood froze in her veins. Her mind was going a mile a minute with scattered thoughts and regrets.

Was this how she was going to go?

Never coming back to her sister? Never letting Akali know what they had was a lie and she wanted to start over? Never getting revenge against that fucker?

An instant before she landed against the hard surface of the hill at impossible speeds, only one thought sprung aside from the heart-wrenching regret gripping her soul.

What a lousy way to die.

Author's Note: What a way to finally update! As always, keeping the unexpected available for this story.

I'd like to apologize for my tardiness. Several things happened in life (I moved out from where I was living to an apartment by my lonesome, among others) and my muse decided to leave me hanging. Ideas were around, but there was just no motivation to sit down and pour them forth.

Regardless, it's good to be back. To keep things as usual, writing quality is STILL not up to what I wanted it to be and updates will happen when they happen. No comments about the story since some of you might want to read the whole thing from the start and I'm sure the hate-mail will crack my mailbox for killing dearest Kitty.

Later,
Soulcry.