Katarina was lying on her bed, absentmindedly tossing her blade into the ceiling of her room, when a tapping on her window awoke her from her daze. She slid from her bed and opened her window, shocked to see three black roses impaled through the glass panes of her window. Was someone trying to threaten her? Who would be stupid enough to threaten any member of the Du Couteau? Didn't they know being caught by a member of this family meant certain death?

But then, the matron of the Black Rose was not someone that would ever get caught doing anything.

-LOL-

When Katarina awoke from her nap (she never sleeps because she can't afford to), the moonlight was shining dimly into her room. The figure sitting on her desk looked on to her with wide, questioning eyes. Then she smiled slyly, sliding off the desk to strut towards her, swinging her shapely hips like a pendulum towards the still bed-bound Katarina.

The mysterious raven-haired beauty climbed on her bed, and straddled Katarina, pinching her chin and raising her eyes to meet her assailant. Katarina's eyes widened, the touch awakening her from her reverie, moved to get out of her grasp, only to find that her body no longer responded to her thoughts. The woman saw her internal struggle, and giggled quietly, before leaning back down to whisper hotly into her ear. 'Stay. Be a good girl.'

The warm breath that tickled her ear sent shivers down Katarina's spine, but as uncomfortable as being in a submissive position made her, her arms felt like leaden weights, and were completely unresponsive to her will. So she sat there, resigned to her fate.

The woman saw the fight drain from Katarina, and she smiled to herself. 'I can help you. I know things you want you hear. We can help each other. Don't you want that, my dear...' the woman breathed into her ear '... kitty? Together we can change everything. Do you want that?'

It takes a few seconds, but the red-haired assassin realised she could speak again. After this revelation, she gritted her teeth to force out and angered 'What do you want?'. After hearing the question, the raven-haired woman smiled quietly, and sat back, finally giving Katarina some breathing space. 'I want your help Katarina. I can get what I want, and you can get what you want. What do you want to know Katarina?'

Father. 'Nothing, you freak. Leave this mansion immediately before I call my family and kill you.'

The curvaceous woman sitting before her merely chuckled, and somehow getting further and further under her skin. 'You can call all you want, kitty, but no one is coming. I didn't want any unwanted... interruptions. So what do you say, before I leave? I must leave soon, as much I would love to spend more time with my favorite kitty.'

Katarina grit her teeth and hissed out venomously 'Fine. I will.'

The woman smiled and slid off Katarina and the bed, sauntering towards the window, before winking at Katarina and blowing her a kiss. 'Then I will hold your promise to you. I look forwards to working with you. Kitty.'

Katarina, in a blaze of anger, pulled out her daggers and hurled it at the woman, impaling all three of her daggers in her chest. The woman did nothing but gape at the assassin incredulously. Katarina stared at the hands that refused to move just seconds before.

But Katarina should have watched the woman for the woman just coughed, rivulets of blood spurted from her wounds and mouth. But otherwise, seemingly unperturbed, she chuckled and said a line that made Katarina regret landing her killing blows. 'I will go and say hello for you. To Markus.'

And with that, she died. Katarina grabbed her corpse in fury, screaming desperately at the dead woman. 'What did you do to my father? Where is he? Tell me!', with no response from the corpse. Katarina could do nothing but sob and weep, hands clutching the one key she had to unlocking the mystery of her father's disappearance, and the woman who knew it ended with her own two hands.

Had she noticed, very carefully, she would have noticed the six eyed bird watching the spectacle with a careful eye.

-LOL-

Cassiopeia sat down to talk to her beloved sister, instantly noticing the deathly aura and anger surrounding the assassin who had returned to the Institute after the trip to Noxus. Katarina looked worse for wear, and the dark rims that surrounded her eyes proved it. 'How was the trip, darling? Why are you looking exceptionally beautiful today?' The knives that appeared in the assassin's hand did nothing but fuel Cassiopeia's laughter. The venomous glare that threatened to bore holes into her head did little to put the serpentine woman off. 'What did you do this time? Did you kill anoth-'

'Father. I found a key to Father.'

Cassiopeia immediate stopped her line of thought and hissed at her sister. 'What happened? What happened. TELL-'

'She's dead. I killed her.'

Cassiopeia could believe her ears. For years upon years, she and her sister gathered info about their father's possible disappearance. They went through all the leads. The travelled Runeterra, searching for any details that involved her father. The blood they shed, the men and women they tortured and the buildings they ransacked in the name of information. All that with so little information. And suddenly a woman that KNOWS? And now she died. Cassiopeia was unforgiving to anyone but her sister, though it was uncertain how much longer that morality would last.

'YOU DID WHAT? What do you mean, you killed her? What… why… what is WRONG with you? You IMBECILE! What did she know? We tried so hard, and we waited so long for an opportunity, but here you are, KILLING our leads! We... we... For fuck's sake!' Cassiopeia started to wheeze and puff, finally starting to calm down.

Katarina did nothing, but take it. After all, it was her who dashed all hopes that they may get their father back. But after the rant, she was getting impatient. 'Well, I didn't know who she was! She was just THERE, sitting and watching me sleep,' Which is weird enough, considering I sleep light enough for a rat's footstep to wake me, 'and I'm weird for having a reaction to that?'

'What?'

Katarina sighed, unwilling to remind herself of that night but unsure how else to explain the bizarre happenings of the night. So she steeled herself and told Cassiopeia. She told her every minute detail, the entire conversation recounted word for word. She recounted the way she called her kitty like she knew her, the her sensuous voice and her magic. That magic that could render Katarina helpless in front of the woman, in more ways that one. If it was just anyone who heard the recounting of the tale, it would almost be concerning in how much detail Katarina remembered it. But Cassiopeia knew that it wasn't because her sister was obsessed with it, it was because she had it drilled into her memory as it replayed itself over and over again in her sleep, cursing Katarina to nights of restless sleep.

Cassiopeia was silent. She had no idea what to make of this. She expected it to be normal and simple. There was a perpetrator (Katarina) and there was the victim (the key). Katarina killed the woman before she said anything. As a result, they now have a body and an neverending sense of emptiness that stemmed from the murder. See, easy. One plus one was two. It would have been so much better had it been linear.

If everything added up, Cassiopeia would have been sated. But one question answered led to more being asked. Of course, who is she? Why does she know Markus? What is that magic she used? How did she get into the room without waking Katarina? But most importantly of all, why did she die? She had the power to stop Katarina, and with her magic, it should have been simple. It seemed to be a simple mistake, letting Katarina free; however, there are many people who play games that delve deeply into the human psyche, and as much as she'd like to be a monster, these games are proof of her and Katarina's more human side.

Katarina didn't want to think anymore. Maybe it was true that she killed the key, maybe it was not. Whether she is dead or not no longer bothers her, so rather than the state of the woman, she must know the answer for the other questions. She was the first, but won't be the last. When a normal human walks, Katarina knows. Thudding footsteps, breathing, scraping shoes on carpet, not the silence that enveloped the woman. Katarina doesn't know. Either it's herself to blame, or if it's because of her. But now it doesn't matter, because it's bad either way.

Katarina lifted her head to catch Swain looking at her, his mask of superiority and calmness covering any underlying emotions. But she knew he was not looking for the sake of watching, he was searching. For what, Katarina would not know. Swain does things his way so Katarina doesn't care. She cares little for what Jericho does, because though she works under him, she does not work for him. She does what she does, and she leaves Swain to do the same. In Noxus, the strong rule and the weak die, so it is expected that Noxians are selfish. And much like the discipline indoctrinated into her from her early childhood, selfishness is learned at an age all too young. Use others for your own benefit, and always assume they are doing the same.

Katarina held Swain's withering stare, but soon, he nodded, turned back and stood up, leaving the room, leaving her bemused and concerned. So long as his plans didn't interfere with her and Cassiopeia's, it was fine. But she knows that it does, and it worries her.

-LOL-

Katarina did not have a good night. Predictably. It was not made a habit that night-terror haunted her every night, so it was surprising when it happened the first time after the Cleansing. She called the murder the Cleansing to spare herself the bouts of self deprecation that followed the event. But now they refused to leave her. It would be of the same thing every time, every night.

It would start with roses, black roses (Of course it would. It describes the situation perfectly), followed by her face. Not Katarina's, oh no. It would be her smiling eyes, blood leaking from her pursed lips locked in a victorious smile. The scene itself was nothing but a failure for the woman, though she smiled on, staring at Katarina through empty eyes. The glossy pupils indicated her untimely demise, though Katarina had the distinct feeling she was being watched. She was an assassin. She knew she was. If she didn't she would be dead. Though why she wasn't dead right now was completely beyond Katarina right now.

Then came the whispering, the whispering that both taught her everything, yet nothing came of it. If she didn't know better, she would dismiss it as ramblings of her own deteriorating mind, but she knew the voice intimately, it having whispered promises and opportunities in her ear. It was like smoke, both there, but intangible. Katarina did not know whether it was real, only that it was there. So she listened.

She never knows what she hears, only that it is important. She doesn't remember what it is, only that she must remember it. But whatever she hears, it must be horrific. For every night, without fail, she wakes up in cold sweat.