Four years earlier...

"Is this… a joke?" The spindle of a man glowered at Riven then took the measly few coins she had pressed into his palm and proceeded to dump them unceremoniously on the floor. "A full day's worth of work... and this was the best you could do?"

Riven kept her eyes anchored to the ground. Even then she could feel the gazes of the other beggar-children turning to view this spectacle unfold before them. "I-I'm sorry," the little girl offered nothing but a barely audible whisper in response. She wouldn't dare raise her head now, lest she risk incurring his wrath any further. No, she had learned through experience – the less said the better.

"You're sorry?" The man angled his head as he stared down at her, the faintest hint of a vicious smirk beginning to work its way into the corners of his lips. Slowly he reached out to caress the girl's hair. "My dear little Riven. 'Sorry' doesn't put food on your plate." He had found several strands of her silvery locks to play with as he spoke, and he did so with a twisting motion of his index finger, spiraling her soft tresses lightly about his digit. "Sorry… won't keep a roof above your head. Nor will it keep you safe from harm." The twisting had become more deliberate, more methodical now. Each subsequent loop of his fingers tangled in her hair elicited a sharper and sharper tug upon her scalp. Riven flinched and bit her lip, nearly drawing a bead of blood. It was all she could do to keep from crying out in pain.

"I said… I was sor- "

"And I told you. Sorry is not enough," he cut the girl's words off in mid-sentence with a slap, using her hair like a leash now to guide her along as he dragged her down the hallway. The other children were captivated now, some with looks of fear plastered across their dirt-caked faces and others with something decidedly more sinister. Such was the power this man had over all of them; eventually they would turn as twisted and cruel as he was. Or so he hoped, anyway. "We are a family here, Riven. We must all do our part to take care of one another. Wouldn't you agree?" He gave her scalp one final tug, forcing her to meet his ominous, expectant stare.

"Yes… sir."

"Then in light of this, you will neither eat – nor sleep – till you have returned with at least double your daily share." The smirk had finally grown to form an evil grin and the man known only as Mr. Nerul, Beggar-Lord of Noxus, relinquished his grip on Riven's tresses, moving instead to gently caress her bruised cheek with an open palm. "Perhaps my dear… we need to make you appear more… sympathetic in the eyes of passersby."

Riven froze, knowing full and well what that meant. A hulking form had appeared beside Mr. Nerul, bare upper torso pockmarked and riddled with scars. Arnath. His features were hidden in the shadows and though she knew his face all too well, right now she was far more concerned with the man's fists. Her gaze stayed fixed upon the ridges of his knuckles, watching them crackle as he flexed each finger individually. She was paralyzed with fear – too afraid to even make a sound.

"I think," this monstrosity of a man drawled in a low rumble, "that's a great idea." Slowly Arnath reached out towards the girl, his massive palm casting a shadow of unbroken darkness across her trembling body.


Four minutes earlier...

"What a joke," Talon grumbled under his breath, slender brow narrowing sharply as he worked over his victim's pockets. He was crouching above the corpse of the man he had quite literally defaced only moments ago. All it had taken was a single boot to the head; the other three had turned tail so quickly upon seeing their leader fall in that manner. Who knew death could be such a powerful motivator? The thought nearly brought a devilish smirk of satisfaction to his lips, though a frown persisted after the search for valuables had left him empty-handed. Talon shook his head, exhaling sharply as he rocked back on his heels. "How can somebody so large be so damn poor?"

A stifled cry from somewhere behind brought Talon's attention back to the present. Slowly he cocked his head over one shoulder, amber gaze alighting upon the source of the sound – that young woman the thugs had accosted before he'd decided to drop in. His gaze softened ever so slightly as he looked her over, starting from the crown of her matted silvery tresses and continuing slowly along her dirt-stained temples and cheeks… only to linger again upon reaching those full, parted lips. She had on a tattered cotton blouse, the material flimsy and partly diaphanous so to give the very merest of hints as to what lay underneath. A lacy red ribbon ran just under her breasts and along her shoulder blades, keeping the otherwise ill-fitting garment taut to the curves of her firm tummy and shapely hips.

He watched in silence for a moment as she struggled to regain consciousness, her hooded eyes fluttering about slowly. Even in the pale light streaking through from above he could very clearly see the bruising and scarring on her arms and legs… some old, some new. Ligature marks along her throat and collarbone, blood under her fingernails. Whoever they were, they had given this poor girl hell. And she'd no doubt thrown it right back in their faces.

Riven awoke gingerly at first, the rods and cones in her eyes laboring to make sense of a world dominated by faded pastels and shadowy highlights, phantasms haunting the edges of her senses. She groaned then strained her neck, reaching up to cradle the back of her head where a large, if still inconspicuous bump was beginning to form at the base of her skull. She winced when her fingers drubbed against it. The fresh bruise was still quite tender to the touch.

"Sleeping beauty awakens."

A voice from somewhere above snapped her into full consciousness. Instinctively she responded by snatching up the rusted metal rod that lay next to her and bringing it to full bear, brow narrowing as the shadows finally congealed before her. "Stay back!" Her voice was raspy when she spoke again, parched lips betraying the clearly evident thirst and hunger plaguing her.

Talon's devilish smirk remained unchanged, his hoodie still drawn up about his head in such a way that only the smile was really visible to the young woman. A few strands of chocolate-brown hair had fallen out of place now, resting lightly across the bridge of his nose as he cocked his head off to the side. "You're welcome." His tone was low and even, almost playful really, in a derisive sort of way. He wheeled about slowly, motioning with his chin to the massive body lying behind him in the gutter. Riven froze, her makeshift weapon very nearly falling from her grasp. That was Arnath's body. Realization bubbled to the surface now as she recalled the chase, the confrontation in the alleyway and finally the shadowy figure descending from above. Her gaze darted about furtively for a moment as this new flood of memories rushed to fill her mind's eye. She regained her composure however, when her eyes had caught sight of something familiar, the last thing she could remember seeing before passing out: that wicked talon-like blade. At the moment it was slung low across the man's hips and lower back like a hextech revolver, ready to be drawn and deployed at a moment's notice.

"I... I didn't ask for your help," Riven whispered through pursed lips as her sullen gaze turned away from the man who had in all likelihood just saved her life, loath as she was to admit it. "I was fine."

"Clearly."

The young woman scowled at his response, blushing lightly as the tension in her frame gradually faded away. The rusted pipe slipped from her fingers altogether to clatter against the cobblestones with a muffled clang as she took in her surroundings more steadily now. "Where… are the others?" She brought her gaze up intending to meet his, though her blush only deepened and she settled instead with focusing on his chiseled jawline.

"You mean the smart ones?" Talon snickered, exhaling as he saddled the woman once more with those piercing eyes of his. "They bolted the instant I took this one out. Never seen grown men run so fast." He shook his head almost ruefully. "What's that saying? Kill the head and the tail will die?"

"The body will die," Riven corrected him as her eyes slipped to the wayside once more. She was now hugging her chest with both arms, fingertips tracing lightly across the outer edges of her shoulders. Why the hell was she feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden?

"Whatever. Anyway, you should probably leave before they come looking for you again." Talon rose to his full height for the first time, interlacing his fingers above his head before reaching out with a low, lazy stretch of his arms. "I don't know what you did to piss them off, but they seemed none to pleas-"

"I did nothing!" Riven interjected quite suddenly, the ferocity of her statement matched only by the intensity of her aura. The fire subsided as quickly as it had come however, and slowly she looked away, her voice once more nothing but a sullen whisper. "They believe me to be their property."

"Are you?"

"What? No!" She looked up at him incredulously. Her temper had been stoked again, like the burning embers of a fast-ebbing cigarette. Riven had finally met him face to face for the first time now - bright crimson eyes locking heavily with his simmering amber ones. "I mean… I-I suppose… in a sense. They took me in when I was younger; gave me a place to stay. But… they used me. They used… all of us." Something about this man made her feel so damned unsure of herself. Those eyes were like twin suns, amber pools of radiance with no other function than to boil away her façade of strength and reveal the awful truths hidden underneath. Indeed, five minutes and she had already begun to share more about herself with him than with any other in her entire life.

"Look at me." Talon glared down at the woman, his lips curving into a bit of a frown. Riven scowled as well, not wanting to comply at first though slowly she exhaled in resignation, chest heaving out as she brought her gaze to meet with his once more.

"You belong to no one but yourself." His words were terse, each syllable as equally crisp and succinct as the rest. Gone was the seemingly mocking playfulness, the teasing nature in an otherwise low and icy tone. "Don't ever let them take that from you. Now go."

For the longest time Riven simply glared back at him, unable to respond, let alone blink. Those beautiful eyes of hers wavered ever so slightly, reflections of her inner turmoil painted in scarlet and orange watercolors. Without so much as a word they spoke volumes of the unsaid emotion she now fought to keep so heavily in check. "I… I'd love to. Believe me," she responded finally, a flush of rosiness clouding her cheeks once more. Slowly she glanced towards her outstretched leg, motioning with her chin to the rather deep gash running the length of her ankle and shin.

Talon blinked once, then twice. His brow furrowed as he cursed softly under his breath, bringing a hand up to idly scratch the back of his head. She wasn't going to be running anywhere with an injury like that. At the very least, it would require a cleaning and thorough dressing. He sighed, folding his arms loosely across his chest. Compassion was not a virtue he put any amount of faith in. If growing up in the catacombs of Noxus had taught him anything it was this: kindness was nothing but a weakness.

And yet…

And yet for some reason he knew that if he were to turn his back on this girl… if he were to just leave her to an unknown fate, he would probably never be able to look himself in the mirror again.

"Give me your hand." He had broken the silence finally with four whispered words carrying with them the weight of a hundred stones. Riven froze for a moment before looking up at him slowly; she saw, for the first time, his whole face. Talon had let the hoodie slip to his shoulders now, revealing to her his features. Angular, chiseled cheekbones framed by tangled locks the color of a scarab's wings. His ears poked out from between the matted strands, each pierced and set with small jet studs that caught the light every now and again. A thin, barely perceptible scar ran above his left eye, bisecting one eyebrow and continuing down to about mid cheek.

"Your hand," he said again, breaking her bout of reverie and bringing a fresh batch of color to her cheeks. Slowly he extended his own arm out to her, fingers spread and palm facing up. "I'll help you."


Author's Notes: I'd just like to give a quick thank you to all the people who are reading this story, especially those that liked and commented on it. Thanks for your support, and here's hoping you'll all enjoy what I have in store.