Garen wasn't so sure of his night's plans anymore. His men had convinced him that going to Flume, the most well known strip club in Valoran, would take his mind off of his problems. The Might of Demacia didn't even have problems. He was just… lonely. His friends and family were off having the time of their lives in relationships, while he trained his men all day for a war that was going nowhere. Lux was practically married to Ezreal, Jinx was on a trip with Vi, and Jarvan was still meeting with Shyvana in secret. The club was tall and a deep purple, with no indication as to what was inside, aside from the occasional neon light showing through the crack under the door frame. The very door that now taunted him. For the past few minutes, Garen had stood outside, unsure about whether to go in or just go home. Considering it was a very famous club, he was surprised that there was no bouncer guarding the entrance. He closed his eyes. Pushing aside his nerves and doubts, he released a breath, and entered.
Garen immediately regretted his choice in attire. People were wearing everything from casual clothing to straight up lingerie, while he was embarrassingly overdressed, having chosen to wear a gods-damned tux to the strip club. Upon walking in, he was enveloped by loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, swaying to the music, hanging by the bar, or watching the performances. Meanwhile, he awkwardly meandered around the place, unsure of where to go or what to do. The place was packed. Women in skimpy outfits served food to the guests, wearing little more than their underwear. He heard an announcer say something through the speakers, but couldn't catch what he said. The moment the announcer finished, everyone, aside from him, began hooting and cheering. Confused, he tried asking people around him, but he only received dirty or sympathetic looks, as if he was stupid for not knowing. Understanding soon dawned on him when he saw what, or rather, who everyone was cheering for.
The instant he laid eyes on her, he felt his world stop. The stage was simple, a circular platform with a pole in its center, colored and fluorescent lights trained on it from every direction. And gripping the pole with a mischievous grin was Katarina Du Couteau, wearing the most beautiful costume he'd ever seen. The ruby haired assassin, and now… stripper, wore a simple, yet elegant black cropped shirt with a heart-shaped neckline that Garen couldn't help but notice brought a lot of attention to… a certain area, dotted with sequins. With it, she wore matching skin tight leggings, crisscrossed with rips, and black pumps. She donned a deep red lipstick with the ensemble, along with the best damn eyeliner he'd ever seen. Something about it made her pale skin stand out more than it usually did. Of course, none of this could compare to how her silky- and now curled- bright red hair contrasted with her bold green eyes. He wasn't sure what to think of it. Wasn't she from Noxus? How the hell did she even manage to get here and acquire this many fans? At this point, he didn't care. Garen came to forget his woes, so he let Katarina's stage presence intoxicate him.
When her song began, she lifted herself up, in a quick, graceful movement. Katarina didn't even need to think as she let herself get lost in the music. She twirled and spun, all of it second nature to her. Out of habit, she found herself scanning the crowd for threats as she hung upside down on the pole, despite knowing there wouldn't be any. Nearly losing balance when she saw the Might of Demacia staring right at her, she slid back upright. Shutting down any old emotions she might've had, she was slightly disturbed when she noticed just how turned on he was. Well… disturbed and pleased. Licking her lips and not knowing quite why, she began to spice up the routine, earning bills from the men and women around her, and a blush from Garen himself. The crowd cheered, and it made her heart soar. She remembered first arriving to Noxus, sent as a messenger and then forced to stay. Mere days later, she was discarded on the streets and forgotten. She then just barely managed by working as a slutty waitress for a maid cafe. Since then, she'd managed to climb her way up to the top stripper in the most acclaimed strip club in all of Valoran. Her job soon became her passion, growing to love it nearly as much as she loved fighting on a battlefield. Too soon, her song ended, and she was showered in bills and a few roses. Katarina quickly collected all the bills and swaggered off the stage, blowing a kiss at Garen on her way out.
Did she just…? He could've sworn she just licked her lips on stage. Directly after making eye contact with him. Suddenly, her movements became more suggestive and promiscuous than they already were, and he felt himself heat up. He fumbled around trying to fish a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, and threw it onto the stage, hardly thinking as he did it. The Might of Demacia refused to blink from the start of the show- as he couldn't- and wouldn't -take his eyes of her. Her performance was truly beautiful, and he had no words for the stripper herself. Garen couldn't comprehend why one person could be so intoxicating, and why she was here in the first place. When the song began slowing to an end, he considered bribing the DJ to replay it. He couldn't help but watch Katarina as she got of the stage, and nearly choked when he saw her blow a kiss in his direction.
In all fairness, Katarina always did have this effect on him. Years ago, at the infamous Kalamanda brawl, he'd felt love for the first time. She happened to be broken at about the same time he was, and they crawled out of that hole together. As a waiter accidentally bumped into him, Garen felt himself blush, remembering his last night at Kalamanda with her. They hadn't done anything sexual or anything, but he slept with her. Just… slept next to her. It was the calmest night of his life, and for once, he felt pure bliss. He remembered when he first saw her, challenging a man to a brawl at a bar in a drunken stupor. It was only days later that he found out it had been her 5th night at the bar, having left with a different man each of the other 4 times. Everyone assumed that was just her personality, but she'd been trying to wreck herself on purpose. Didn't care about herself or anyone. He'd been headed down the same road, or would have, if it wasn't for her. They'd ended the conflict between his troops and Noxian's together, moving as if they'd trained together for years. They got talking, and, well, it went on from there.
Remembering the night he received a letter telling him to return to Demacia in the morning, he felt himself tear up, despite himself, and where he was currently standing. When he'd told her, she'd been calm. She'd gone to sleep, without a word. He found himself glad, that she was gone before he'd woken up. They were similar in that sense, they saw no point in goodbyes.
Her hands were shaking by the time she reached the club's showers. Seeing Garen- seeing him after all this time- it brought back memories she had no use in keeping. That night.. she'd been calm as she waited for him to fall asleep. She'd been calm as she sat herself on the rocking chair next to the bed, still wearing his oversized T-shirt. She'd been calm as she watched him sleep. She'd been calm as she slipped out of the window in the night, knowing she wouldn't be able to handle saying goodbye. She had not been calm, however, as she went into a village Noxus had sought to destroy for years. She had not been calm, as she slaughtered everyone in it that had made an enemy of Noxus in a blood soaked fury. She had not been calm, as she sunk to her knees in the carnage, and cried herself to sleep.
He spent the next 20 minutes in a Katarina-induced daze. Everything was going well, until an angry and red faced Luxanna brought, rather, slapped, him back to reality.
"Enjoying yourself?" She demanded over the roar of the music, trying to stand still amid the swaying bodies.
"I-I-" He faltered. "Not really. I can explain." He knew his face would have a red Lux-hand-shaped mark for the next few minutes.
She gave him an innocent smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Well we ought to fix that, shouldn't we?" Abruptly turning on her heels and stalking off.
He didn't know what was going on. All he knew, was that he was scared. It took a lot for someone, especially Garen to get Lux this angry. She may have looked more or less calm, but he knew she was livid under the mask. He sat back down and closed his eyes, waiting for her to come back so he could apologize.
After what seemed like seconds, he heard heels clicking towards him over the blasting music.
Eyes still closed, he began. "Lux i'm sorry, the guys just sugg-" his apology was cut short by someone sitting in his lap.
He opened his eyes to see Katarina Du Couteau's looking down at him with an amused expression. Garen's face blanched. An eyebrow raised, Katarina gave him a mischievous grin.
"Sorry to disappoint, but i'm not Lux." His face remained pale. "However..." she continued, a finger trailing down his chest. "She did send me here." He was going to kill Luxanna. The assassin gave him a pout. "What's with the angry expression? She paid for you already, you know." He found himself looking up to the ceiling in feigned annoyance, despite everything. Katarina always found a way to get under his skin, while calming him down at the same time. Trust, he realized. He trusted her. "So..." she guided his hands to her waist. "Better make the best of your remaining 7 minutes, buddy."
Garen must have looked confused, because she rolled her eyes, and began rolling her hips. On his lap. He felt a rising pressure in hi- "Someone's enjoying this a little too much…" She whispered in his ear, making the hair on his arms rise. Out of reflex, he found himself pulling her closer to him, so that she was nearly close enough to share breath with him. The next few minutes passed by in a blur. Too soon, she was rising out of his lap and walking away with that practiced swagger. He rushed to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water, staring at the sink for a good, long minute. It didn't make sense. Everyone in the club wore close to nothing, and her attire was that of a nun's compared to them, but none of them had had that effect on him. He didn't want to think about what that said about him, or what he still felt towards Katarina. Garen loosened a breath, readying himself to leave the bathrooms.
When he emerged, all the lights were off, save the ones at the bar. Men in black vests with red bow ties cleaned its surface. One of them looked up, and caught Garen looking confused. "You can't be here. The club closed an hour ago." He nodded, and started making his way out. How long had he been in that bathroom? It'd felt like five minutes at best. The cold air outside bit at his skin. The weather in Demacia was always unpredictable, unless someone happened to have connections with Janna. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the purple building. How was he going to deal with Lux? He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of the cold stone behind him. Garen didn't even understand why she was mad in the first place. Sure, he was at a strip club, and sure, it's definitely an indecent place to be, but something like that shouldn't have infuriated her as much as it did. What if- no. He didn't let himself think of that. If she'd known Katarina had been here all this time. He clenched his hands into fists.
He heard the doors open before he sensed her. "Garen." He turned. There, in a black sweater and the same ripped leggings as before, stood Katarina. One of her hands hung casually at her side, bent as if she were used to keeping her hands in easy distance of her fighting knives, the other gripping the strap of her satchel. She looked tired. "Katarina," his voice broke. Involuntarily, he felt his eyes line with tears. For a second, it was like her face cracked. Worry and sadness shined there. Then it was gone, replaced by that cool indifference she was known for. He might have thought he imagined it, if he didn't know her better. She ran a hand through her hair. "Will you- will you be coming here again?" There was something in her tone that he didn't understand. She cleared her throat, and went on. "Because if you are, i'm quitting. Or finding somewhere else to make a living." Her face revealed nothing behind the words. "Why?" Was all he managed. She shook her head. "Because I can't look at you without falling back down that hole." He knew what she meant, and didn't know what to say. She made to walk away, and he made to follow, but she broke into a sprint. Heels never faltering, as if she was used to running in them. He didn't want to know why.
She ran until her breath became shards of glass in her lungs. Then she ran some more. She let the pain ground her, guide her. She kept running, running, until she fell to her knees on the concrete. She punched the floor. Again, again, again. A strangled sob came out of her. Katarina had managed to keep it together in the club, but outside… it was different. In the club she'd never been alone with him. Outside, she had. For a moment, she hadn't been able to school her features. She knew what must've shown there, and just hoped he didn't notice. Her knuckles were throbbing now. She also had no intention of going to her small apartment. Garen probably thought little of her considering those four days before he met her in Kalamanda. She knew someone had probably told him about it. He probably didn't know those were the last times she ever slept with a man. Unsurprising, considering her occupation. She got up, walking to the abandoned building she loved practicing at. That's where she'd been running- without realizing it. Practicing always calmed her down, they helped her think straight. Inside, scars and scratches marred the surface of every wall. She didn't feel like practicing with her knives again today. Or anything really. She plunked down to a corner, where the stone was at the most risk of collapsing. Pushing aside what would look to an outsider like a fallen chunk of stone, she opened the trapdoor on the floor. She pulled out the bottle of amber liquid and swigged from it every time she thought of Garen for the rest of the night.
He didn't particularly feel like going home, after what just happened. He didn't want to deal with Lux, even if he knew it would probably be worse if he didn't go back before morning. So, he did what he did every night he felt restless. He went to Jarvan.
Garen didn't bother knocking as he walked into his best friend's manor. It was across the castle, but probably more secure than any other place in Demacia. When he walked into the living room, he found a mess. Jarvan was leaned over a map, screaming at the men around him without looking up. They were screaming back. What was going on? Jarvan had a temper to match Shyvana's, but he never yelled at his men like this. As if sensing him, Jarvan turned, and gave him a grateful look. Worry, anger, and something else Garen couldn't identify shown there. Everyone quieted when he raised a hand. "Garen, talk some sense into them, will you?" He sounded desperate. "They wish to send someone to Noxus, to assassinate Swain so the war never comes to pass," Ridiculous. Noxus and Demacia had been on the verge of a war for years. Killing Swain would only kickstart it. Especially with LeBlanc in the picture. But Jarvan wasn't finished. "And LeBlanc." Garen froze. That changed everything. If both Swain and LeBlanc were out of the picture, Noxus would be set back. The war would be postponed for at least another decade. The idea was still foolish. "Who would be suicidal enough to walk into Noxus alone?" Jarvan looked away. A man in glossy, new looking armor responded for him. "We were suggesting you, sir." The armor suggested he'd never seen a day of warfare. Jarvan stared down at the map. "I would never ask you to go. You know that. But if you do go, you're free to bring someone with you. Anyone you like. No questions asked." He seemed to be trying to convey something else with the message. Then it hit him. Jarvan wouldn't tell Garen this unless he thought Garen would be looked after. Jarvan thought Garen would pick him to go on the mission with him. Though it fractured something deep inside him, knowing what he was about to do, he nodded. "I'll go." Jarvan's face filled with gratefulness. "Who with?" He asked, in a way that suggested he already knew who Garen would pick. Although it killed Garen to not say what Jarvan wanted, he straightened.
"Katarina Du Couteau."