It's a story about Talon and his coming to be part of House DuCouteau. I'm not sure if I will add much to it. It was just a little something I had to get out.

Event Horizon

For the first time in his life, Talon could say that he was satisfied. Happy, no- he doubted he would ever know what happiness was- but since coming into an arrangement with General Marcus DuCouteau, he never lacked for work, the type that saw him slinking among the shadows of the truly powerful and reducing them to nothing. Dropping body after body of government officials and military officers in the gutters of Noxus was, he reasoned, the closest thing to enjoyment he could experience. He certainly could not help the grin which would light his face when the sound of a corpse hitting the ground reached his ears; it pleased him that he was still alive while yet another body fed Noxus's greedy belly.

There was also a degree of real stability in his partnership with DuCouteau which he had never experienced either: he owned a quality weapon which would never abandon him when needed; he possessed all the money needed to loosen the lips of targets; and now he boasted a reputation worthy of talk among the highest guilds and military ranks. All these things he could truly count on to work for him, to keep him safe. For the past twenty-five or so years, he prided himself on his careful attention to routine which had kept him alive when so many other street rats didn't make it into double digits. Routines, he liked. It was a sort of false stability; even on the streets he kept to his self-imposed routines. He meticulously patrolled his territory, knew which alleys to peruse, which could be bypassed safely. He knew the patterns of market vendors and military patrols, which bars and inns were owned by Noxians with a modicum of kindness he could exploit for a roof and food. Others' predictability led to their deaths but never him; he was too skilled to be caught.

Until he was; he took it as a lesson in schooling his ego.

And now that his life was finally back in his control, it took a turn when the DuCouteau patriarch commanded him accompany him to the privacy of his estate. His instincts wanted him to decline and run. In the city's underbelly he knew every street, corner, and alley; it was his domain and with his knowledge of it came safety. The DuCouteau estate was a new variable- a dangerous one. Marcus DuCouteau did not need an advantage, but he would have it there regardless. The new disrupt of his life was unpleasant.

It was curiosity and thrill, or perhaps some feeling unknown to him which compelled him to quell his instincts and follow the older assassin anyway. Every nerve in his body was alert, ready to fight should it become necessary. He assumed it would; no one could be trusted in Noxus, not even one so amiable as Marcus. To his surprise, he faced no ambushes or traps as they passed through the grounds of the estate. It did not put him at ease.

"You will continue to be my eyes and ears in the under city," Marcus finally said as they passed the threshold into the grand foyer of the manor. "My study is to be your new base of operations; you will no longer have dealings with anyone else. You belong now to House DuCouteau."

The young man nodded to show his affirmation but his patron's voice took a backseat to the edgy feeling which worked his way into his gut. For the first time in his life, Talon felt self-conscious. It was not the first nor the grandest home in which he had been by any means, but it was the first time he had been invited inside. You belong now to House DuCouteau. He did not have to hide or sneak; the walls almost felt welcoming and safe and for a second he thought, 'This must be what home is like.' He shook his head slightly as if to clear it. People in Noxus did nothing out of generosity; he was there to serve a purpose. "I would not have answered to anyone else anyway," he finally replied.

Even from behind he could see the grin on Marcus's face. The remembrance of his purpose there centered him and he realized he was leading him to the toward the central staircase of the mansion. He berated himself for even a moment's distraction. Silently, they climbed to the third floor and Talon mechanically mapped the layout. There were two wings on each floor, east and west side, each with three doors and Marcus ushered them down the west hall. He took note of each piece of furniture and committed the details to memory. Anything could become an obstacle during a possible fight or escape.

"My study," Marcus indicated, motioning toward the last door at the end of the hall. The assassin pulled a key from beneath his cloak and the clink of the lock echoed through the hall. "If possible there is another entrance which you will use," he said politely, a tone which indicated that it would be Talon's priority.

"Then why would we walk through the front door?" Talon grumbled.

"The front door so my suspicious and nosy eldest daughter knows not to try and kill you if she finds you sneaking around," he retorted.

Talon snorted in disbelief, earning a shrug from Marcus. "You will undoubtedly meet her when our conversation here is finished. How much are you able to read?" he asked abruptly.

The street rat was taken aback. "Street life doesn't give much time for luxuries," he eventually answered. "I can recognize my name on the wanted posters."

Marcus grimaced. "I feared as much but wasn't sure. You'll need to learn in order to read my messages."

Talon narrowed his eyes; the conversation was beginning to sound suspiciously like he was about to lose control over his life again. "In what world would you need to send me anything written?" he ventured.

"Ciphers, obviously. Surely you don't think work for the Noxian High Command would have you staying here?"

Finally, Talon answered to his instincts and let the shadows become his cover. It was an assassin's magic, drawing the darkness around him like a cloak, rendering him invisible. He used the opportunity to dash for the door, only to be greeted by the cold steel of the General's dagger in front of him. With a frustrated growl he dispelled his concealment.

"You're not in a position to decline me," Marcus reminded calmly. "I think you will find the arrangement satisfying if you pause to think. You will see Valoran. You will never be without money, food, clothes, or weapons. And you will train under me as a true member of House DuCouteau."

His frown lessened and he fixed an appraising stare at the man in front of him. "Why me?"

A curiously stoic expression tugged at Marcus's normally devious grin. "There are many types of strength, Talon. You did not beg for your life or try to bargain for money. There are few people with your strength; to snuff it would have been a grievous error on my part. With you and I, House DuCouteau now boasts the strongest assassins in Valoran." The grin spread back across his face. "And if my daughter Katarina continues to improve as she has, it will be three."

An irrational pang of jealousy spread through his gut and twisted his face into a sneer. "Then why not use her?" he snapped before immediately chastising himself.

In a show of confidence, Marcus sheathed his blade and turned his back to his protege. "Katarina is on a different path," he explained. "She will carry out Noxus's will in within in the Institute of War, where she is better suited. Her flaws make her less suited to some of the jobs I have in mind for you."

"I see," Talon acknowledged. An inexplicable feeling of triumph bloomed inside him. He had never been outside Noxus. There was a part of him he had not known he possessed which was almost excited to be out, to see the world; he quashed it in favor of cool indifference. "I suppose I can see why reading would be important."

Marcus all but beamed. "Then it's settled. I would not trust anyone outside the House with my most valuable resource; you will learn here, from my daughter." Before Talon could even begin to protest the terms of his education, DuCouteau pulled a few papers from his desk and launched into an explanation. "Freljord is growing and it looks like they'll be recognized by the Institute as a city-state once they can decide on a leader to recognize. The Noxian Barbarian Pacification project did not work, but the barbarian tribes look to be uniting peacefully under the Princess Ashe. We want this to continue and seek to eliminate some of her competition."

"You need a princess assassinated?" Talon asked incredulously.

The elder assassin nodded in the affirmative. "I have a summoner named Niko who will transport you and pass messages securely. Work with him. And before you ask, the mind meld among summoners is a powerful thing. It's best if he does not know anything sensitive lest it fall into the wrong hands. I will brief you on it as the deadline approaches but know that it's coming soon."

"So I guess learning to write would be helpful too."

A short laugh burst from Marcus and he rubbed a gloved hand through his red hair."You What am I gonna do with you, Talon? Yes, writing is also mandatory. Better get started." He strode purposefully to the door and unlocked it. "Katarina!" Talon was surprised as the air around him rustled and the place beside him was suddenly occupied by a figure in black with a shock of red hair the complete mirror of her father.

"Were you able to hear anything this time, sweetheart?" Marcus asked in a saccharine voice. The young woman gave him a sullen look which spoke for her. He laughed. "Katarina, meet Talon."

She whipped around to face him revealing burning green eyes with an angry scar across her left. "The Talon?" she repeated, arms akimbo.

Pride swelled in Talon's chest. His reputation had indeed preceded him.

"The Talon," Marcus confirmed. "If you seem him around the estate, you're not to attempt to harm him. He is a DuCouteau."

Though she kept her expression blank, Talon could read Katarina's anger in the abrupt tightening of her shoulders and the muscle which twitch in her clenched jaw as she gritted her teeth. "Of course," she deferred. "I won't as long as he doesn't give me a reason otherwise."

"And he won't," Marcus affirmed, casting a threatening look toward him. Talon agreed with a tilt of his head. "Katarina, would you mind introducing our friend to Cassiopeia? I'm afraid I've fallen out of her good graces this week. Let her know she's to teach him to read and write."

Talon inclined an eyebrow, curious. He had assumed it would be the girl in front of him who would be teaching him. There was another, apparently, and Katarina seemed to find the notion laughable."You're kidding right?" she asked incredulously. Cass? She's gonna poison your food for this."

"She'll have to get in line," Marcus joked. "Talon, you have your orders. I will notify you when you are to leave. Expect it in writing within a fortnight. Should you be comfortable here, I'll have Katarina arrange a room for you." He turned to his red-headed daughter and shook his head. "And good luck to you. You'll need it."

The red head childishly stuck out her tongue at her father. "I hate you," she informed before arranging her face into an expression of boredom and motioning to Talon. "Come on, then. The devil awaits."

An anxious Talon moved silently behind Katarina to the East end of the third floor, again on edge the moment the door to Marcus's study had clicked shut. It would be fitting for an ambush now that he was considered part of the House. They might expect him to relax, let down his guard. He smirked; he would show them. Keeping his eyes fixed over her shoulder, he observed her carefully for any indication of sudden movement- bunched muscles, clenched fists or a change in breathing- which would give her away. Her relaxed hands hovered close to the knives on strapped to her thighs but her twin daggers were secured to her back which he was certain would give him the initial advantage.

It was, however, an uneventful walk and the red-head in front of him was just as quiet as her father. But as they neared their destination he bristled as her pace and posture became reluctant; his suspicion intensified until Katarina muttered, "Cassiopeia isn't the easiest to get along with."

The admission made Talon cringe in irritation. "How am I supposed to work with her?"

She shrugged. "I don't know what Father was thinking. Maybe it's because you're so hard to read. Or so quiet. If you give her nothing to feed off of she won't get under your skin."

Talon narrowed his eyes but his curiosity was piqued. "Is this the room?" he questioned motioning to the door in front of which they'd halted, feeling suddenly impatient. He wanted to meet this girl. If she could so easily put others on the defensive, she was surely an aggressive opponent.

Katarina nodded, poised her fist to knock and muttered, "Try not to say anything about her looks," before pounding on the door.

Talon was not expecting the voice which belonged to the mysterious and terrible sister to sound so sensual as she demanded, "What do you want, Katarina? I'm quite busy." He frowned, a mask for his confusion.

"Brushing your hair doesn't constitute busy," the red-head shot back. "Father has a job for you."

He heard a quiet thump and a shuffling sound as if something were being dragged across the wooden floor, then the lock turned. The door opened a crack, revealing the displeased face of Katarina's sister.

They were obviously siblings with their similar features: an angular face, thin nose and lips curved in a natural smile, but structure was where the similarities ended. She immediately glanced past her sister and her gaze fell on him, revealing calculating eyes as yellow as a serpent's and rimmed by green scales which receded into her temples and cheeks. Still, she looked young; he put her at no more than twenty, just a child in his mind. Thick auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders but it was dull and coarse. She narrowed her eyes dangerously, a soft hissing noise escaping her before she snapped, "Who is this?"

"This is your job," Katarina replied, stepping aside to reveal him further. "You're to teach him to read and write."

Cassiopeia gripped the door frame beneath her claw-like fingernails, a spot already worn by previous outbursts, and ground out, "That is a job for a commoner; I refuse!" She moved back to close the door but Talon leapt forward and jammed his foot in the door. A shock of satisfaction coursed through him as her face fell in shock.

"I like this no more than you," he growled. "But this is Marcus's order and I will not fail him."

The girl's face twisted in rage and she swiped at his face which he dodged easily, to her increasing frustration. "Who do you think you are!" she screamed. Talon set his jaw to keep his own face from revealing his agitation; whatever he had been expecting from Cassiopeia DuCouteau, this temperamental child was not it.

"Calm down, Cass," Katarina demanded. "You know the assassin everyone is talking about? Talon?" She waved a hand around him as if presenting a gift. "This is him, and he's a part of House DuCouteau now." Her voice dropped in warning and she narrowed her eyes at her younger sister. "Father and I entertain your little tantrums but I'm sure he won't hesitate to put you in your place, so if I were you, I would tone it down a few notches anddo my duty."

To Talon's surprise, her sister's words seemed to have the desired effect on Cassiopeia. She pursed her lips in a pout but regarded him with interest rather than anger. "You can tell Father that I'm still furious at him," she informed Katarina with an imperious tone, "but for now I'll work on his little pet."

"I am nobody's pet," Talon spat.

A mocking laugh escaped her lips, now curved up in a teasing grin. "Oh, dear. Don't you know? If you don't control the pawns, you are one." She moved away from the door and flung it open, revealing a lower half with a serpentine tail in place of legs. A silk robe hung from her frame and was loosely tied in the front revealing ample cleavage and a spattering of scaly patches across her torso. "Let's see how long you survive."

Talon crossed his arms and maintained the glare directed at her face. He was not unfamiliar with females who sought to use their bodies as a means of power. He purposefully turned his glare into an arrogant grin which had the desired outcome; Cassiopeia's coy mask dissipated into one of irritation.

Katarina clapped a hand on his back. "Good luck. I hope you do make it. You don't seem half bad," she grinned before sauntering off down the hall with a wave.

Cassiopeia gestured her hand toward the anterior chamber which preceded her bedroom. "Well," she said, "let's get started, Talon the assassin."

He stalked past her with a sideways glance; she raised an eyebrow at him and gave him false smile.

"Let's drop the pleasantries," she announced as the door slammed shut. "What is an assassin like you doing in House DuCouteau? Who hired you?"

Talon ignored her and instead took in his surroundings. It was cozy and feminine with more cushions and plush chairs than he had ever seen in his life. The walls, decorated with a few paintings and ornate glowing sconces, were marred by deep gouges he had no doubt were caused by her mercurial temper. A beautifully carved wooden table sat covered in books and maps and next to it a chaise lounge which curved toward the ground to accommodate her tail. He scoffed. Knowing the owner of the room made him more disgusted at the amount of privilege the undeserving wealthy possessed.

"Are you listening to me?" she snapped, reaching for his arm. He whipped around and seized her wrist, though to her credit she did no more than wince.

"Marcus DuCouteau should have killed me but instead showed mercy. I owe him my life and I owe you no more explanation than that," he growled. He braced himself for another outburst and was surprised when she appraised him in silence before giving him a curt nod. He released her arm cautiously, but she merely cradled it to her chest for a moment before bending to search her table for paper.

"What is the nature of your work with Father?" she inquired, her tone business-like. She collected a few sheets of blank paper and a set of pens and ink. She motioned for him to sit.

He measured his words carefully as he crossed his legs beneath him on the floor. "I'm to do some work for him outside Noxus," he relayed. "I need to be able to read and write messages."

She made a humming noise of understanding. "You must be as good as they say if he trusts you to succeed at such delicate endeavors. Assassination of foreign dignitaries is as delicate as it gets."

Talon could not help another swell of pride. "I get results," he said. "No matter what."

"So modest." She smirked, then handed him a pen.

He stared, perplexed, at the foreign object in his palm, then doubtfully gripped it like a sword.

"Amazing. You truly know nothing of this, do you?" Cassiopeia crowed. Talon knew she was probing him, seeking a sharp retort or perhaps an act of violence. He wondered briefly why she would do so knowing his skills- having just praised them, even. He narrowed his eyes and vowed to deprive her the satisfaction.

"When you grow up in the slums of Noxus knowing nothing but survival, you don't think much about the meaningless pursuits of the rich," he said, absently rolling the pen between his fingers. He fixed his red-eyed gaze on hers as he added, "But I can think of quite a few ways this pen could kill someone."

He noted the begrudging defeat in her eyes. She scoffed, then bent to scrawl something on the paper. When she moved the veil of her hair, he recognized his name written in her beautiful script. She looked pointedly at his hand and cautiously took it in her own to adjust his grip on the pen. An odd expression crossed her face- flushed cheeks, averted gaze, and a hesitance as her fingers lingered over his-, and it took him a moment before he realized it was embarrassment.

He focused his curious gaze on her, but she pointed to his name on the parchment and ordered, "Well, get to copying."