Garen Crownguard, the scion of the renowned Crownguard family, best friend and confidante of the crown prince, His Highness Jarvan IV, stalwart commander of the Dauntless Vanguard was not happy. He was incensed and more than just a little bit annoyed as he walked down the busy streets of Demacia. And the source of his irritation was walking, stalking, right beside him.
The blood red hair of the woman beside him which hung freely about, he considered wholly impractical and yet the owner of said locks could fight toe to toe with the best of Demacia's elite and not find a hair out of place. Her attire, although light and easy to move in was more suited to a woman of the night. Dark and of tight leather, Garen can't help but take a glance at the luscious curves the outfit accentuates.
Berating himself at his lapse of chivalry… I can't help it if she's so-
He traced the gentle curve of her abdominals with his eyes. The slight hint of musculature betraying the physicality of the woman. Her thighs, strong and lithe, belying the agility in which she killed her prey. A steady staccato beat from her booted feet meeting the cobblestone floor suddenly came to a stop.
Startled, Garen almost tripped but managed to retain his dignity and mask the misstep with a scowl.
"What is it Crownguard?" His name contained more than enough venom that he almost mistook her for her sister, Cassiopeia.
Deciding to keep his stoic mask, he answered with a noncommittal grunt and continued walking.
A gloved hand grasped Garen's right pauldron, stopping him, and with surprising strength, turned the seasoned warrior around.
"What?!" The commander said a little too loudly.
The woman narrowed her green eyes. A startling contrast to her wild red hair. She glared at him but the commander did not cower. He looked straight back, his own brown eyes were unwavering. He studied her beautiful face. It was a study in contrast. Lush red lips set in the background of smooth, unblemished skin. Green eyes that glint like emerald, piercing in its intensity. A jagged scar that ran vertically across her right eye. A flaw that only made her dangerous allure all the more deadly.
A moment later, the woman broke eye contact and strode forward.
Exasperated, Garen pinched the bridge of his nose.
~o~
"Welcome to Crownguard Manor, milady." The honorific was said through clenched teeth.
"Quaint."
With a barely noticeable furrowing of his eyebrows, the commander stopped himself from strangling the woman.
"Sebastian." Calling the butler to his right, Garen gestured towards the woman. "Please lead Lady du Couteau to the Green suite."
Calm down, Garen. She's a guest. Uphold the Crownguard hospitality, Garen. DON'T STRANGLE HER TO DEATH, Garen.
"Yes, milord."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Garen was about to turn to his own rooms when she spoke.
"Actually," Smirking, the Lady du Couteau turned and looked at him. "I'd rather the master of the house show me around his own abode." Her eyes were glinting in challenge, daring him to speak otherwise.
Garen stiffened. He should've expected this. He should've known this woman won't ever let things go smoothly. Turning to her, the commander of the Dauntless Vanguard recognized this for what it was.
A slow smile trailed up his lips.
Lady du Couteau was taken aback by his grin. Many would describe it as polite, utterly innocent, but being raised in Noxus gave one the ability to see underneath the underneath else be a victim of schemes and conspiracies. No, this was not a polite smile, it was a sinister smirk. There was something brewing behind that indoctrinated brain of his… and Lady du Couteau couldn't help but get just a little bit excited.
It was subtle, a miniscule movement but it made Garen's grin grow ever so slightly.
The Sinister Blade licked her lips.
"If it pleases the Lady. Very well." His eyes did not leave hers. "Sebastian," The old butler straightened. "Have the maids carry Lady du Couteau's luggage to the East Wing. The Blue Room if you please."
It was a testament to the butler's years of experience as majordomo that he didn't even flinch at his master's command.
"It will be done, milord."
"I believe it would be best to get out of our current attire. It would be wholly inappropriate to attend dinner in our armor don't you think?"
With that, he offered his arm to the lady like any man of noble breeding would. It was met with an arched brow and a slight widening of the eyes. The lady immediately schooled her features. A slight smile, demure and ladylike in nature, graced her lips, a surprising contrast to the usual predatory grin she usually sported. Garen felt dainty hands brush on his chainmail covered elbow at the gap of his plate armor. Dexterous fingers grasped his arm.
"Very well, Garen. Lead the way." It was the first time he heard his name said in such a way.
The Might of Demacia licked his lips.
The game was on.
~o~
Jarvan Lightshield III, King of Demacia, sat at the head of a long table. His son, crown prince, Jarvan Lightshield IV was seated at his left and to his right sat Garen Crownguard. Approaching his 56th year, the king was weary of the responsibilities his position asked of him. He was all too eager for his son to take the reins of Demacia and settle into his retirement but now, duty calls.
"Garen."
The loyal commander sat a little bit straighter.
"Yes, my liege."
"Katarina du Couteau will be staying in Demacia for a week. You and yours shall host her stay in Demacia."
The king eyed his subject, looking for any signs that might clue him in to what the young man was thinking. Garen learned well from his father. The king could not get a read on his trusted commander. The prince on the other hand saw the minute clenching of his jaw. Jarvan IV knew more than anyone how the relationship between Garen Crownguard and Katarina du Couteau was.
"Of course, sire."
"This is part of the non-aggression pact between Noxus and Demacia. With the Summoners imposing this stipulation, I could not stress the importance of her stay here in the Kingdom. You are to ensure she leaves satisfied that Demacia isn't posturing for conflict. A war is at stake here Garen. Runeterra can't take another war. Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, sire."
"I expect the famous Crownguard hospitality has yet to lose its luster?"
"Of course, sire. The Crownguard clan has always aimed to serve the crown. We shall ensure Lady du Couteau wants for nothing as she stays in Crownguard manor."
~o~
Garen Crownguard was mulling over his words to his King as he put on a cotton shirt and a formal dinner jacket hanging unbuttoned over it.
Katarina.
It was only now, after greeting her at Demacia's gate did he allow himself to even think of her name. The name brought with it the clang of steel, the tang of blood and the scent of carnage. But it also brought forth excitement at a new challenge, a foe that could rival his skill in combat.
Kalamanda.
He did not understand this… whatever this is.
Shaking himself from his reverie, he stepped out of his relatively spartan, since he spends most of his time in the barracks with his troops, room to wait at the door across from his.
Garen felt something caress his arm. Surprised, Garen's first instinct was to wrench his arm away and throw his assailant. Her velvety laughter stopped him though, as well as a firm, unyielding grip from his arm. Her reputation as an assassin was well-deserved as took his left arm and folded it into their own.
"Why, I didn't expect you to treat a lady like that Lord Crownguard. I would think you would know better than to throw a lady off your arm."
Chagrined, Garen couldn't suppress the embarrassed flush on his face at being caught off-guard and the softness that pressed on his arm. Regaining his composure, he relaxed his arm and finally allowed himself to look at her.
Big mistake.
It was the first time Garen Crownguard saw Katarina du Couteau out of her battle regalia. The consummate assassin looked even deadlier in silks and satin than her usual leather. It was of Ionian design. A cheongsam, he remembered it being worn by one of the ladies in court the other night. Like her leather armor, it was black as night but with a relief of a blood red chrysanthemum rising from the generous slit of her dress. Her unruly hair was twisted up in a loose chignon near the nape of her neck.
"Well, Garen," There it was again. "Shall we?"
"Let us go then. Katarina."
Two can play at your game.
~o~
Dinner was, thankfully, a smooth affair.
They were at the manor's main dining hall joined by his mother and Luxanna in formal dinner dresses. Luxanna's effervescence was a refreshing change from raucous and debauched conversations of the mess hall or the subdued politicking and small talk of the king's banquets. His mother, the ever stoic Lilia Crownguard, asked direct and succinct questions. Nodding and making appropriate noises at the right times.
All in all, Garen thought Katarina handled his mother and sister surprisingly well.
As the meal began to wind down, Lux excused herself citing a bit of magical research she was doing in her room while his mother retired to her own suite for a bit of a night cap. That left the Might of Demacia and the Sinister Blade alone in the hall. The silence was not uncomfortable yet not easy either. A palpable tension could be sensed between the two.
Garen stood up and strode towards the liquor cabinet.
"Can I offer you something to drink milady?"
"Bilgewater Scotch, if you have it."
Garen smiled at her choice.
He took two shot glasses from the cabinet and a glass snifter. Placing them on the table, he poured the ale into the small glasses and offered one to the lady. Garen raised his glass in a toast.
"To peace."
"To peace."
In one gulp they swallowed the amber liquid. It burned down their throats and settled a comfortable heat in their bellies. They sat down across each other.
"This is some fine Scotch." She was admiring the glass before putting it down.
"Thank you, it was a souvenir from a skirmish."
"Oh? Where?"
Garen poured another round.
"Kalamanda."
They both took a glass and downed it.
"It seems a lot happened in Kalamanda, didn't it?"
"Katari-"
"Don't." There was no hint of playfulness now, only raw emotion.
"I don't regret it." He stood up and walked towards open doors to the balcony. He savored the gentle night breeze. "I know you think it was-"
Once again he did not hear her nor sense her approach. It was only her gentle touch that made him turn around.
"Katarina I-"
She kissed him.
Chapter 1