A/N: Here comes our last POV character, Cassiopeia.
Reviews much appreciated.
Update 5/25: Yes I decided to change the summary, since the original one was a bit too vague, though I doubt the new one is any better. I really suck at summarizing, well, anything, and I'm very changeable, so you might (just might) find the summary shifting several times in the future. The story won't change, though.
Enjoy!
[Cassiopeia]
She tightened the cream colored bodice until it fitted close enough to compliment the curves of her body, and tied the strings behind her carefully but easily, feeling them with her fingers. Studying herself in the large mirror that covered half her bedroom wall, Cassiopeia decided to don a dark shawl over it; it would go with her hair and the chocolate dress she had on today well, and she felt bare without some sort of cover anyways.
Reaching for the shawl she had in mind, her eyes fell on the wooden box she stuffed into the back corner of her closet ages ago, and considered taking what was in it.
She barely ever opened the box since her sister gave it to her for her eleventh birthday, except to throw all the other presents from Katarina in, and it became a sort of joke between them which she didn't appreciate. But perhaps it would be safer to today, with all these people of different backgrounds attending…
Draping the deep auburn fabric over her shoulders, she stared at the box with the Du Couteau's emblem scorched into the lid. Her dress hides an assortment of pouches and holsters of course, she had her maids sew them in secretly, but she never had anything in them. She never felt the need to.
…Fine.
It felt like surrendering to her sister, but she knew better than to let her ego take control. Pouting slightly, she opened it and carefully drew a silvery blade from the pile, throwing a disgusted look at the pink bow tie on the handle.
Apparently it was Kat's way of mocking her.
After ripping the frilly lace and ribbons and whatever else she had tied onto the dagger, she now had in hand a beautifully balanced blade, curved in elegant shape and razor-sharp despite her negligence, the hilt simple and black.
She weighed it with uncertainty. Having never paid attention to those so-called gifts, Cassiopeia realized, for the first time, that these blades were different.
It was light, lighter than the daggers her sister wielded herself, and thin too—the type she knew Katarina hid beneath her leathers instead of in her belt, one that promised less damage but better concealment, and would not impede movement even if worn close to skin. The type that Kat would only use as a last resort, but exactly what she needed.
Feeling slightly grateful, she tried a few slashes with it and was pleased with herself being still able to wield a knife correctly, despite her last training lesson was when she was nine. Female or not, coming from the Du Couteau family meant that such things were inevitable, and for once she was glad for them.
As messy as it was, in Noxus, sometimes violence is necessary. That much she would agree with her sister.
She slipped two of them into the leather belts she tied around her legs and studied herself again in the mirror, turning multiple angles to be sure her dress spread out enough to hide them. Another few tiny knives for throwing were hidden against her back, where her bodice and shawl would cover up nicely, and the cold steel pressing against her made her uncomfortable.
She tried moving around with them and winced as the bare blade scraped against her skin, slightly tingling with pain that she wasn't used to, and found she couldn't manage anything above small steps and still maintain a normal stance.
How does Katarina ever manage to stride around like that with all these weapons bound to her? She wondered, staring at the awkward girl who was her reflection, and tentatively attempted larger steps, pressing her lips into a hard line against the pain.
The rapping at her door stopped her from further practice, and inaudibly she sighed, giving up. Large strides weren't ladylike anyways, as her governess taught her, and she will cope with it for tonight.
"Lady Cassiopeia? Your ride is ready."
"Yes, I am coming." Hurriedly she replaced the lid to where it was and pushed the box back into place, covering it up with random old garments she owned, and closed the closet doors. Putting on a smile and checking in the mirror that her expression was appropriate, she grabbed her purse, went to answer the door, greeting her valet with a nod and sheepishly adverted her eyes.
"I must have taken horribly long; my apologies to have kept you waiting."
She could feel the surprise from him, a newcomer freshly employed, "Not…not at all, my lady. The carriage would be waiting at the door. We should arrive there slightly early, as you requested."
Smiling and thanking him for his forgiveness, she slowly walked down the corridor, gritting her teeth against the stinging scrapes of the blades and keeping her shoulders steady so that she would look graceful. She stepped into the vehicle with a light pause, then sat down facing the front and smoothed out her dress while the doors were slowly shut. And she did not forget to thank him again as well. Every relationship must be carefully treated, she knew, including those with her servants; she would rather not force them at knifepoint like her sister, but leave a nice impression that would promise obedience due to love, not fear.
With a crack of the whip, the wheels slowly started rolling down the cool Noxian streets, with the deep colors of dusk painting the skyline outside.
She stared, wordlessly, outside the panes of her carriage window, and untied the curtains, allowing them to fall and drape the inside with shadows. Her eyes fell to the hole on the other seat's leather cover gaping at her, and frowned, wondering why the damage from Katarina's knife the other day hasn't yet been repaired. It made this scene familiar, too familiar to her; only days ago her sister sat right on the other side as they returned from the Fleshing, toying with her knife, and they bickered with her being harassed again by Katarina.
It was nothing unusual, of course, as the sisters bickered daily on different degrees. Yet…about Talon.
It was a touchy subject, as it always has been between them, even before his betrayal…or deserting, or leaving, or whatever Katarina wanted to believe. They rarely were able to bring it up without, at the very least, intense arguing.
His position was always in the gray patch between family and servant; of course she couldn't view him as a sibling, they barely even see each other in the house, and she had no idea why Kat could. For all she knew, he was just one of the many assassins beneath father's command and training, and as he lurked in the shadows their paths never crossed and she never minded.
She had habitually folded her hands on her lap, and as she stared down her eyes focused on the flowery golden patterns she manicured on her nails, just so that there was something for her to concentrate on.
Why would Kat care for him?
She knew that they worked together. Occasionally, when their assignment was especially hard, or when it was important and her father wanted a safeguard, they would be sent together in the night. And perhaps they spent time sparring each other as well. So what? Her days were spent on socializing with people of her own class and status and she felt no emotions towards them, not to say her servants.
But she could see how Talon just stirred her whenever the subject was brought up. She cared for the man, the slums-born assassin their father picked off the streets, and just like all the other emotions that Katarina Du Couteau bears, it was irrational and unrestrained.
With Talon declared an enemy of Noxus, those emotions of her sister's only raged more out of control.
She heard rumors, not much, but still rumors indeed. Whispers that, though Katarina was given the task to search for the betrayer, she did not carry out her orders to the fullest; that she deliberately gave her searchers the wrong leads and information, that she sent her trusted to bring word for him before the others reached him, that she was helping him, a traitor to the Empire of Noxus. Whispers that she would smile and shrug off and tell everyone that it could not be true, for the fierce loyalty of her sister was obvious to the entire nation, yet could very likely be the reality from what she knew.
Closing her eyes, she felt a slight headache creeping upon her, and softly she pressed at her temples with her thumbs. The pulled curtains billowed under the course of late summer breezes, playing with the loose strands of auburn hair that she kept beside her ears, and sighing softly she raised her hand to tidy them.
Rumors were only rumors after all, and these were stories told only by the lowborn, but she would not risk having them being widely gossiped about in the upper society, where, as her first-hand experience tells her, nobility-born girls do nothing but tell these stories to each other. And where would they be then, with the saying of the Du Couteau child betraying the country? Nowhere good, that she was plenty sure of.
Her sister just had to mess up everything. Everything that she carefully plotted and carried out, Katarina always had some way to turn it all upside down.
Father had his reasons to lie low for the past months, reasons which she knew well. She would not be surprised if those…rumors…were deliberately spread by someone, and they will never have a single wisp of evidence. The High Command of Noxus has never been a peace-loving party, no matter on affairs international or within, and if things were not handled terribly cautiously these days, it was not unlikely that the Du Couteau family would fall by the schemes of those lusting for power. She was terrified at the thought, but perfectly aware of its possibility.
The carriage rolled over a light bump and jolted slightly, causing her to wince at the cold steel against her leg. She made a mental note to find dagger scabbards before she would wear them like this again, and cursed her sister for giving her sharp blades without leather to protect herself from them. Katarina probably never intended for her to use them at all anyways, yet still.
Disastrous as it was, for both Kat and the assignments she had to attend to, it was probably a good decision to have her following father in the high command, she thought after pulling the blades straight. She needed to understand what her own little sister was doing, after all. She needed to have this sense of politics and plots and conspiracies, disgusting as they are, in her mind. And anyways…Katarina needed a distraction. She was getting unhealthily obsessed over the subject of Talon, and forcing her to direct her attention elsewhere was a good idea.
As her sibling, it was her duty to assist Kat on such affairs, adding to her already never ending workload of maintaining a social presence in the name of their house.
Sighing in tiredness she ran a list of all the problems she needed to attend to in her mind, starting with helping her sister to get used to politics. The Black Rose, whom they say have already infiltrated the High Command. General Jericho Swain, with his right-hand man Darius, was proving to be possible rivals…or even enemies. And of course, Talon. Everything was leaning against the family, and Talon picked just the time to betray them.
There were much to do, and little time to do them.
As much as she was unwilling to admit, the Du Couteau house was nearing the brink of breaking to ashes, and the last thing she needed was her sister helping to spread more whispers that helped in the wrong way.
They were almost there. She could feel the speed of the carriage decreasing, the summer evening winds stopping their flow. Breathing slowly but deeply she told herself to stop being troubled over these things, to set them aside and out of her mind temporarily for the night, and be prepared to smile and dance and enjoy herself as much as she could, while keeping a keen ear on any words shared during the night that could be valuable. Worrying helps nothing. Lies and wits and careful observation do.
Forcing her lips to curl up just slightly so that she would seem joyous yet dignified, she folded her hands again on her lap, and waited in patience as they slowly came to a halt.
She weaved through crowds and dancers easily, reminding herself constantly to be poised and confident and doing her best to ignore the scraping pain coming from her legs, to a shadowy corner to catch her breath. Dusk has deepened into night, and through the enormous glass windows she could see a glimpse of the new moon, dim and cold and lifeless.
Unnoticeably she shivered, and turned her gaze back to the seas of people, the music from a string quartet resonating around the chamber. The solstice ball was one of the most prominent events in Noxus, where the majority of the upper class would be present, and she did not waste this opportunity to catch whatever new whispers were passing around. It was the whole reason she was here.
Cassiopeia spent the past hours to converse with some old friends or to make some new ones, and as she wore the Du Couteau sigil on her silvery choker around her neck, there were always plenty of people coming up to chat. Careful to not leak any information of her own, she politely talked or shared unimportant gossip like all the other girls would, and when she got a few valuable words leaked out to her by slip of tongue she was satisfied and found her chance and excuse to leave.
It was greatly time consuming and extremely boring, but she put up with it the best she could.
No, unlike what her sister thinks, she does not enjoy those gatherings so much; it wasted her time horribly as she had to smile and make small talk and seem likable, or at least as likable as a Noxian should be, just for a couple sentences of unbeknownst value, and though she tried to pick her targets as carefully as possible with such a large party it was impossible to evade all those useless ones. Small parties with people she knew were okay; this? Incredibly torturous.
She loosened her choker slightly and allowed it to dangle a bit like a necklace, and though it probably wasn't ladylike, she needed to catch her breath. The wine she consumed from endless toasts were already starting to get to her slightly, though she considered herself a decent drinker, and she had to bite her lip every now and then just to keep focus. Getting drunk without an escort and in such a large crowd was probably one of the worse things that could happen to her—rape was no rare thing in Noxus, even in the higher levels of society—and she muttered under her breath why did she not think of dragging Kat along. Her sister at least could have kept her on her feet.
And yet the night was still long. The thin curve of a waned moon stared down at her as she hid in its shadows, and she felt a strange sense of foreboding.
Frowning, she tightened up her neckband again, leaning back slightly so to let the knives hidden beneath her clothing would press to her skin, hoping to let the metallic feel wake her up. Though the Du Couteau's were no family of magicians, magic did pass through their blood, and she knew the techniques of her father and Kat used them; she had magic in her veins as well, and usually when unlucky feelings came to her, they were honest.
A strange sixth sense, she considered it. Whatever it was, it proved itself to be generally accurate for the past years, and now when the feel of unease came she felt like she was tingling all over.
Please, no more bad luck. Tightening the strings of her bodice and studying herself silently in the reflection of glass windows, she prayed to herself. There was enough happening already right now. She needed no more unfortunate events on top of them.
Of course, prayer helped nothing.
"Would you mind," came the young voice of a man, soft yet startling her no less, "if I share this place with you?"
Hastily she re-fastened her choker and turned, coming nearly face to face with a young nobleman that she did not recognize. Seventeen, eighteen maybe, slightly younger than her sister, and much too young to be a noble on his own…an heir possibly, to one of the many minor families of Noxus. She knew the faces of all the prominent ones.
"Of course not; it would be my pleasure." Plastering her smile back on again, she sidestepped a bit to make space for him in the shadows, and carefully studied him.
No crest worn on his garments and yet obviously they were made of rich material, which made her suspects of him coming from nobility doubtful. A merchant's child, then? That would explain it, but she would not give a sure conclusion before knowing more.
"And mine as well." He smiled in return, one that looked strangely genuine to her, while stepping in yet keeping a polite distance between them, "it is a lovely spot that you've chosen. Just right to take a break from all the vulgarities tonight."
Candlelight flickered behind him, giving his figure a fiery ring of color. She lightly rested her hands on the handles beside her, standing straight while slightly tilting her head towards him. He had fine looks, alright, and possibly a background just as handsome, though she knew nothing of; instinctively she tuned herself into the mode she used while conversing with "possibly useful males".
"Your compliment is sweet, yet I fear it is wrongly granted. I merely stumbled across here, and moments ago it was every bit as vulgar as the rest of this night; it is your presence that makes it lovely."
She heard a light chortle from him, and averted her eyes in a blush—the blush was easy enough to feign, as there was already some creeping on to her due to the wine—and her smile kept on, though the curves of her lips were light and demure.
"And you, my lady, are overly modest." His eyes were a hue of dim blue, she recalled as his voice gently wrapped around her, a cerulean rarely seen in Noxus, "I can assure you that it is your beauty that has lured me here in the first place. There is no fairer maiden in this hall then you."
This boy was good, she thought as she contemplated his speech. Usually young men of his age started stammering at her words and her face. Either he was confident and well taught enough to know how to respond, or this one was a talented womanizer. She was assuming the latter was true.
"Are you certain?" she giggled like a little girl would, yet making sure she still maintained her stance, "half of the maidens in all of Noxus must all be here, and plenty of them pretty. I wouldn't dare say I am the best of them all."
An act. It was all an act, and she felt disgusted at those words herself—it made her seem shallow, like all the other silly girls she had as "friends", yet nonetheless it was a useful tactic when flirting or simply trying to let the other drop his guard. People tend to be on their toes around master seducers, but less when talking to…well, naïve, flirty girls.
She heard footsteps on the wooden floor coming from behind, and felt weirdly uncomforting. Usually at home, with the heavily carpeted hallways and the training of assassins, the sound of footfalls are incredibly rare. And with the music and talking in the background she could still hear him—odd, isn't it?
"Absolutely positive." Was his reply, and as she turned to face her their gazes met, golden against blue. She stared into his lucid irises which seemed overly clear, eyes rarely seen in this nation of deceit and bloodlust, and he held out a hand which she tentatively accepted, "I have not yet the pleasure to know your name. Call me Alexander."
The name was…not Noxian, she noted to herself. A common name, but not of this nation. Eyeing him with slight suspicion, she went back to the guess of a merchant's child. A travelling businessman, with enough money in his pockets, could possibly make his way into such parties as this, either with influence or with gold. Being invited to the solstice ball was something that tended to be bragged about, she knew.
She was slightly wavering over whether she should give her name or not. It would be best not to, before she knew who exactly this person is, but against social etiquette.
…Well, it didn't quite matter anyways, she thought. If he truly developed an interest for her information, he could get everything, down to what color of underwear she liked, just by asking a random girl who is here tonight. She wasn't a mysterious figure.
"My name is Cassiopeia," she gave a light pause, her gloved hand resting lightly on his, and her other toying, seemingly mindlessly, with her choker, "Cassiopeia Du Couteau."
He seemed surprised, which was nothing she was unused to, "You must be linked to the famed Du Couteau general, I would assume?"
Obviously. "Yes, that would be my father. And you would be…?"
"Nobody of any importance." His smile slightly faded, and with her generally sensitive eyes she captured the troubled look in his eyes. Ashamed? Or making up a lie? Her uneasiness grew at his vague answer and searched for a way to press him further, or leave.
"Oh, you surely can't mean that." She laughed lightly as if it was nothing but a joke, soft golden eyes glimmering in the shadows like a cat's, "anyone who can make his way here is important, I am certain."
With the garments he had on and the cerulean eyes she was positive this was no low-born Noxian, who found his way into this ball by pure luck. He was trying to make up something on the spot, possibly, to evade other accusations of his background, and she was becoming more interested and determined to find out who he truly is.
Not from Noxus. Those eyes and his hair, a bright hue of chocolate, bothered her. Where, she wondered, on Valoran, had a general population with light-colored eyes and hair? A few places: Freljord, Piltover, Demacia. None which were friendly to Noxus.
Her spine tingled slightly, and, trying to make herself as unnoticed as possible, she reached behind her back for the knives she hidden there, but her hand was caught as quickly as she started.
This was going nowhere good.
"Perhaps I am of slight more importance than I would give myself credit for." Came a chuckle, and she writhed in attempt to break her wrist free. They were nearly nose-to-nose now, with him coming perilously close, and she cursed herself for being careless. She should have seen it coming and left while things weren't out of hand.
"Yet still, it is nothing compared to your family. One of the high command, the best assassins of Noxus…"
His voice was darkening, and she felt like she was suffocating.
"...must have been perfect before one of your men turned traitor, Or so I've heard…am I correct, Lady Du Couteau?"
Not this topic. Again.
She felt dread creeping on to her, but she steadied her gaze and shifted her pose to be more confident and assertive. At least for a dozen times the subject of Talon was brought up to her, and she felt tired and terrified at the same time. One wrong word would mean doom. One slip of tongue could result in dire consequences. She must choose her words with utter care…and her situation right now was not helping her focus to the best of her ability.
Breathing in deeply, she lessened her smile to a more solemn expression, with a tint of sadness.
"Yes, indeed. Talon was one of the best under my father's command, but unfortunately he did betray the Empire and killed one of my father's colleagues." A dangerous thing to admit; Talon was like a secretive celebrity in this nation, with him being once a Crimson Elite member, and half of Noxus knew he took no orders but from the General Du Couteau himself. She paused slightly and planned her speech carefully, "I have no idea why, but I can assure you it was not by the orders of our house, and my sister, with many of our men, are currently putting up their best efforts in search for him. What one of our men did wrong will be righted by our own hands."
She had weaved through the topic as skillfully as she could, and mixing in lies and faked emotions as she went on. Of course Kat wasn't putting up her best effort, or any effort at all, last she knew. And Talon did not…murder anybody of the Noxian high command. That much she was aware of as well.
As much as she excluded Talon from "family", she admitted that he was loyal, if not overly so, to their father. He owes his life to the general, of all things. And he was not somebody to repay it with pushing their house to the edge of falling.
Somebody else did, and chose him as the scapegoat. Just as he decided to run away, for some other reason, and making it seem much more like he had indeed done it.
She knew too well who it was, and yet she had no choice but to still pin the charges onto Talon, in hopes of having him captured back to Noxus and executed. That way there might still be a chance of saving the house then, if they could claim that he acted on his own and not on orders. A slim one, but one she desperately grasped on.
If her sister would bring him back…that was.
She tried harder to pull her hand away, but his grasp was firm and unrelenting. This was no moment to allow her mind wander off to Talon's issue; she needed to save herself first.
"Please, sir, let go of me." She tried to convey her meaning politely and forcefully at the same time, and it was a difficult deed. His fingers tightened and she bit her lower lip from crying out under the sudden jab of pain.
She didn't dare to call for help. If this was truly a skilled killer from elsewhere, employed by enemies either from within the nation or without, she would be dead several times over before any help arrived, and he would have long gone.
Kat. Why didn't she bring her along as escort today, even though she knew well her sister's menacing presence would have impeded with her objectives? At least it would have saved her from this mess that she wasn't entirely confident of climbing out herself. At least Katarina actually knew how to use those blades she hidden, and in a skillful manner as well.
Her father was busy and probably couldn't come, but she could have brought along with her one of his men, each of them well trained and exceptionally loyal. Even Talon, if he was here now, would save her.
But no, she was alone.
Please, she whispered silently to herself, let somebody come and notice this. Let somebody help her.
And for once it worked, though not quite as she possibly wanted it to.
The piercing cry of a raven came before the person, and she snapped her head up to see the man who was arriving. Holding a cane he walked slowly and with a slight limp, but he had managed to arrive in utter silence, as if emerging from the shadows. And beside him, a bulky figure with dark hair followed his footsteps closely.
She had the sudden urge to whine, which she suppressed quickly. Of all people, they had to come. Well…at least she was certain they were Noxians. A big improvement from the person she was interacting with right now.
"May I steal the Lady Du Couteau from you for a moment, young man?" came the questioning voice of General Jericho Swain, one that was supposed to mean a polite ask but had the underlying tone of an order.
He let go quickly and blinked in surprise, and she could see fear practically radiating off him. "Of course, general sir."
She rubbed her wrist and turned her body to face the two, bending her knees slightly to perform a formal curtsy as she was taught, and straightened again with a smile creeping back to her lips.
"Thank you." Though his tone was devoid of any thankfulness, but rather tinted with warning. The half-masked man turned his gaze to her, with the pitch-black raven cawing on his shoulder, "would you please follow me, Lady Du Couteau? I would like to have a short chat with you in my study, if you don't mind."
Her insides turned.
"Certainly not. It is my pleasure, General Swain."
"Good." And with that he turned to slowly hobble away with his walking-stick, the hand of Noxus waiting patiently behind to walk after her. Straightening her body she followed, not turning back to give a second glance to the man that she had a close call with moments ago.
But she was far from being safe. Far, far from it, as she followed the true killer, the one who framed his own crimes on Talon, straight into the heart of enemy territory.
For a few times in the past she has set foot in Jericho Swain's office, to bring messages from her father or run some errands, and every time it was no pleasant experience. The deep colored furnishings were nothing unusual in any room of Noxus, but the shadows here bothered her. She could almost feel magic flowing beneath those dark figures, as if giving them life…and since Swain was not only a master tactician but a mage as well, she wondered if it could truly be so.
She was offered a seat which she accepted, and guarded—the best word she could think of—by Darius, standing right by her side. It bothered her even more, to have Swain's right-hand man so close to herself, but she straightened up and regained her posture nonetheless, keeping her expression interested and tense. Smiling does not work with this man.
"I assume Talon's doings are no new topic to your ears, Lady Du Couteau, so let us not go over it again." The gaze of both him and the crow was equally piercing, and it pained to just maintain eye contact with both of them. She resisted the urge to avert her eyes.
Cassiopeia knew the chat was going to go this way before she even followed them here. Of course. What else could there be for him to talk to her about?
"However, I have heard…rumors, let's say, about your sister. Putting not enough effort into her searches, or even offering the traitor aid. It is untrue, is it not?"
Oh, great. Her sense of foreboding has come true.
"I merely want to confirm this with you, and rest assured, I am not accusing Lady Katarina Du Couteau or your family in any way. Just to check." His stare bore into her mind, as if flipping through all of her thoughts with no impediment, and she wondered if it could actually be just so. She had no idea if Swain's magic allowed him to mind-read or not.
She leaned forwards slightly, and allowing her tone to become slightly exasperated and offended, just slightly, so to emphasize her point, "of course she is doing her best, general, I can swear it. My sister is fiercely loyal, both to our house and to Noxus, and the entire empire stands as witness. I would rather wish you don't have any doubts on her loyalty."
Perhaps she has overdone it? Scolding herself mentally she pondered back on her words as soon as they came out, but indeed she was irritable right now, and it did not improve her socializing skills.
"To both the Du Couteau House and Noxus, you say." He squinted and tasted those words on his tongue, and she felt that the atmosphere grew suddenly tense, "and what if they conflict?"
No. No, no, no, this was getting dangerous.
"What if…" she felt like talking to a snake, venomous and dangerous, one that could kill her with words in an instant, "what if she must choose one to serve, then? Would it be your house…or Noxus? How will your sister choose, Lady Cassiopeia?"
She straightened up and returned his gaze with a steady one of her own, though inside a blizzard was blowing. Those kinds of questions were the type she hated most. Because the true answer was one she could not give.
"To serve our house is to serve Noxus, general. I see no difference between them."
"Yet there is." The snake lashed out towards her again, and she felt her blood run cold, "You are incredibly sensitive and intelligent, dear girl, and I see no need for us to play games with each other, don't you think so?"
No, there was no need, because she could not win a game against the master tactician. It was impossible.
"She would serve Noxus." Was her answer, simple and curt, and she elaborated only after the silence settling between them was becoming intolerable, "and by doing so she served our house. In the end, they all come together. Thus my sister has and will never, never neglect a single need of this nation, never disobey a single order. She is loyal, and so are my father and I."
"Yes; of course she would be." Swain's eyes gleamed with a light that she wanted to run away from, but forcing herself to stay poised and steady, she sat with her hands folded as he slowly rummaged through file after file on his table, eventually coming to a pause and drawing on from it, "and now I have a little favor to ask of you as well."
She eyed the brown-covered envelope with suspicion, and took it as it was handed over.
"The High Command needs you to depart for Shurima, and search for something we need there."
Shurima. Inwardly she shivered at the thought; when she was still a young girl her father took her there once, and the sandstorm they happened to encounter left a lasting impression. It was a dangerous land, one where dead bodies of those who died of thirst littered the sands, their flesh never decaying for it was so dry. It was the land of her childhood nightmares.
And now she was being sent there.
"An ancient artifact, to be precise." He went on in a flat, emotionless tone, and she listened carefully, "one that holds great power and could change our nation forever. With it, I assure you, Noxus will overpower Demacia for the centuries to come, and for generations we have been searching for it. Now it is located, in the heart of the Shurima desert, buried in a tomb. We hope for you to retrieve it to Noxus."
A bronze disc with the map of the desert lay in the envelope, along with letters, notes, torn-out book pages and carefully written instructions. She studied them, and felt uncomfortable just at the thought.
"Such an honor to bestow on me, general." She murmured as she skimmed quickly through the contents of the envelope, "and yet I am no warrior or fighter, but only a girl. I walk on ballroom floors, not scorching sands. Why send me? I could well fail a task of this importance."
"Ah." In anticipation the general sighed, one that she knew was fake because she did so as well, "I do trust you to succeed in this, as I know your wits well, and perhaps your skills on fighting isn't quite as horrid as you thought. It is in the blood of the Du Couteaus, I am certain."
Her eyes caught on an image of a black-haired woman, standing with a boomerang blade beside her, and recognized her immediately. Sivir, the famous mercenary from Shurima. Once worked for Noxus, but broke off her contract years back. She knew her.
"You would require an escort and guide of course, to find your way deep into the desert, and we would strongly recommend Sivir. With the name of the Battle Mistress, I believe you would find her fitting to protect you along the way…and you may have specific need of her in the tombs."
Specific need? She frowned and sealed the envelope once more. Whatever this was supposed to mean, she knew it meant danger. Great degrees of danger.
"I shall remember to, general." And yet dangerous as it was, she could not refuse. She couldn't. For the sake of her family she had to accept this so-called mission with all its risks, in order to not push the accusations of the Du Couteau House's loyalty further.
"Then I wish you the best of luck." She would need it. "Transportation has been arranged for you; you will leave at daybreak, three days from today. Is that clear?"
"Yes, general."
She had no choice. If the cruel sands of Shurima was what she needed to face to save her house, she would do it. Just as she would let Talon die a guiltless death for this goal. Everything she does must be for the best of the Du Couteau's, no matter what the sacrifice.
It was her sole responsibility.
"Then you are dismissed, and I thank you for your time tonight, Lady Du Couteau. Enjoy the ball."
She stood and left, her movement still smooth and graceful, and she successfully forced a smile to reappear on her face before arriving in the hall.
Yes, she better enjoy it the best she could.
It could well be her last chance to.
A/N: Huh, I found both Cassiopeia and Swain very challenging to write, since I personally am totally not into politics at all. Hope I did not OOC too badly.
FYI, the dude named Alexander is probably one of the few OCs that will be popping up in more than one chapter (if not the only one), and I have no intentions to do an OC X Cassiopeia pairing. At all. So rest assured :D
