Chapter 3

"She reminds me of the one I knew..."

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..

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Quinn did not have many friends in her life. She could only count a few in her hands. Some were those who had their lives indebted to her, those who dared to stay in her small circle of friends and those who remained loyal to her no matter what issue comes and goes. Especially Lux who got along with almost everyone including her and Sona, the Maven of Strings, and her adoptive mother had been indebted to Quinn and her deceased brother.

Somehow, without even noticing it, she ignored Lux countless times. She had once hoped that the blond-haired mage won't recognise her whenever they cross paths. She had admit that she somehow envies her- jealous even. Her carefree attitude clashed with her vigilant and rebellious one. While Lux was being paraded by admirers and numerous fans, Quinn had been a lonely shadow that shrouded the whole place. The Demacian Scout was more fond of solitude and Valor's company than any other living being. The Light Mage had everything and could have anything that she'd ever want. Quinn had to deal with everything that worked against her to achieve her dreams.

But then there they were, both in the same place but in different spotlights that showed more of her friend's admirable talents than her perseverance and determination.

Lux was beautiful. She looked more of a goddess than a warrior, a beacon of hope and light. A noblewoman that came from a well-known family that supported her every step of the way, without any worries for money and education. Who was she compared to this flawless woman? The scout may be a swift and cunning warrior but she had her own insecurities. She was a woman too. Feminine under the layers of armor that she wore, a devoted and passionate lass behind the face of a soldier. But still, being out of her friend's league, she had been accepted no matter how boyish or unrefined she looked.

The education she kept hidden were forgotten whenever this luminous person smiled at her.

Quinn had never experienced the milestones of being a teenager, but Lux's invitation to dinner brought her back to the moments she had yet to experience.

Since the war was dormant, they had more time to themselves than usual. She could finally live the life once taken from her, a chance to take care of herself more than achieving goals to be proven worthy.

Lux convinced her to put 'something' on. One that wasn't much of a necessity because the diners outside the institute were not too fancy. But it is new to her. One little night of dressing up won't hurt this precious ranger. Although her wardrobe consisted mostly of shirts and sweatpants, she also had a few skirts and dresses given to her as a gift from either her mother or Miss Lestara. She silently thanked them both for their generosity and concern for her personal life as she shuffled through the clothes inside of her cabinet.

She found the cornflower blue dress her momma gave her last snowdown. Thankfully, it matched her indigo locks and golden irises.

Quinn held the apron dress in front of the mirror beside her cabinet to see how she'll look later on. Once satisfied, she layed the dress on her bed and somehow, the color was nostalgic as if she had seen the familiar hues of a certain assassin she knew of. Her stomach was filled with butterflies at the thought of him.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar cawing of her companion, her thoughts discarded. His wings flapped at the glass door of her balcony.

"I know, I know just wait you over-sized feather duster." She said, opening the cabinet that hid her falconer's gauntlet and rushed to let the Demacian Eagle in who eagerly landed on Quinn's protected arm.

She smoothed his crown, earning a peck on her cheek.

"So, are you ready to kick ass today?"

He cooed, nuzzling his beak on her nose. She laughed as she said, "Let me put my gear on first, Val."

She has been assigned on an early morning match, working with one of the summoners who she'd known ever since. As she wore her body suit over her black tank top, her mind drifted to the numerous battles she'd been through with her. This summoner was eager to prove that Quinn was still a worthy champion in the fields of justice. She had been considered a wildcard pick lately, after her tag team with Valor had been brought out of the game, summoners doubted her ability to deliver her new skill set. Summoner Cielo however, knew her capabilities all too well. They were a force to be reckoned with. Although summoners with higher ranks criticized them, nothing stopped them from doing what they did best- not give a fuck about what anyone thinks. They had the same spirit, and that was why their minds synchronized well. She had to thank the summoner for believing in her when no one else did. To some it all business but it seems that this friend of hers did it for the joy of playing. Beating those who doubted her into a pulp was the most satisfying thing she could imagine.

She strapped each of the layers of her armor hastily, not wanting to be late for her first match of the day, looking forward to the well-deserved breakfast that have been waiting for her in the mess hall after the game.

"Let's go, Val." She called out to the large eagle, moving her right arm firmly for her companion to perch on the gauntlet with ease. The ranger reached out for the crossbow that she had set on her bedside table.

It was one of her habits, keeping any kind of weapon near her whenever she sleeps. Naturally, for a person who practically lived in enemy territory, keeping herself alive and breathing was one of her chores.

As Quinn walked out of her rooms, she felt a slight nostalgia at the silence in the halls. The quiet passage smelled familiar, the cold air was welcoming to her. The cream walls, the white doors of the rooms of her fellow Demacian champions, the potted plants that hung on the walls reasured her.

Another day in the institute. You're doing this for Demacia, for Caleb, for yourself. Valor cawed. And for Valor of course.

A small cloaked figure approached her from the side.

"Good morning Miss Quinn. I apologise for requesting to summon you at this hour. I didn't know what came over me, I was a bit excited." Summoner Cielo said, pulling her hood down to reveal her young face. A powerful Ionian with talents that rivaled most the people in her tribe. Or at least, that was the reason why she is here. A representative and not a volunteer. It was clear on her face that she was not of proper age to become a professional magic wielder but she did it mostly for her tribe of course.

And after a few years, she had grown to enjoy it.

"Summoner, how many times have I told you that you need not to apologise. It is my duty after all. And my friend and I could use a warm-up." Quinn replied enthusiastically, making the young mage's face light up.

"That's good. Because we're going to face Zed in the middle lane." She paused. "Again." Summomer Cielo's strongest champion picks are mostly top laners and Quinn is indeed in the roster. But last minute lane switches was one of her weak spots, especially having to plot another strategy against the enemy laner. Especially against the Master of Shadows.

"So who's going to summon him then?"

"Um.. a Noxian I think. And you know how much they could be rowdy sometimes right?"

"And reckless."

"And reckless."

"Don't worry, we'll be just fine."

"I'm just worried about what other summoners will think about you. The chances of picking you might be lower and I don't want to fail you."

"You've never failed me. Most of the times we've had our hardships were because of the pressure our team mates gave us."

"Yeah. Team mates." Her smile faded, obviously worried about something.

"So am I going to wear the suit?"

"The usual one of course, I know how much discomfort that dress had given you. We're going for our usual badass one."


"We don't know what happened. Gone in an instant. That's what they said." She panicked for a second.

Talon had never seen his sister tremble this way despite her every attempt to control it. It wasn't fear, but the nostalgia of losing more valued soldiers and the capture of three Noxian officials reminded her of their father's disappearance. Those soldiers were loyal to the Du Couteau even when Marcus disappeared. Was the rumored killer responsible for all this? If not, Talon would still be willing to take initiative on tracking this suspect down and avenge Marcus' comrades.

Demacian, they said. He had never heard of one who plays dirty. Assassinating a camp full of soldiers in one night was too overpowered for one. Taking three hostages was overwhelming. Or maybe this Demacian had wit and took the chance to strike at the dead of night. The guards were never enough. The intoxicated soldiers were no use against this new threat. This threat was new, or new to them at least. They had no lead, no name, no information whatsoever about his identity. The tracks are clean, method of killing, swift. Whether pierced by multiple arrow through the chest or between the eyes, none of the soldiers survived the attack. It was as if the plan was devised efficiently by one who have known Noxian soldiers too well. From the time they switch guards to the nights when they pull out a drink from their pockets. The ranger lived behind enemy lines and he had to be cautious. Once he step foot into the forest where the camp was, he was out of his element. It was a ranger's territory.

He paid attention to Katarina's words and borrowed the file that stated the analysis about the assassination.

"And one more thing," Katarina trailed off, pointing to the phrase that was crucial to the success of his pursuit without any injuries.

"The culprit has some kind of hawk for an ally, watch your head." She warned, both confident and concerned about her youngest sibling.

He was back to that night he once met her as he remembered how her molten gold irises made him concious about his current state, pinned by a Demacian, a woman no less. A woman so strong yet so exquisite had him completely stunned. His eyes remained fixed on hers, the same glint of fear and caution visible in her eyes. She is human after all. Just like him, she was independent and driven by her personal endeavors yet following orders from those with powers far superior than hers.

And as just as he thought that she had known nothing about him, she spoke, with her velvety voice and chapped lips.

"The Blade's Shadow." She stared in disbelief, grasping his chin, lips curving in triumph. She double-checked if it was really him. He might be another decoy just like when she tracked down the dummy assassin easily and brought him to justice.

With her other hand busy, he attempted to roll them over and flip the situation. He succeeded, earning a grunt from the woman. There was something so intimate about their position but he didn't mind. Once he extracts information from her and slice her throat, his injuries were worth it. Some part of him just wanted to leave her there alive, mind scarred with the memory of this encounter.

He gritted his teeth as he pinned her arms to the forest floor. She thrust her knee into his gut and rolled away from him. The Blade's Shadow earned another shot to his left shoulder. He countered by tossing three blades onto the area beneath her chest. She dodged, one blade pierced her left shoulder as his revenge.

Disarm him. Disarm him, she thought before punching him square in the face with her right hand.

There was something about her that he can't seem to put into words. Her dark hair, amber eyes and full lips were a sight to his tired eyes The moonlight was too harsh on some of the features he had noticed the most about her. She seemed to know this part of the forest well as she sprung into a tree trunk and launched her foot into his forest that separated his faction from the vast outlands that led to the territory of foes hid this exquisitely dangerous ranger. Somehow he forgot about what was happening until his instincts kicked in and grabbed her ankle. Before he could blink, his hand recieved an arrow shot, forcing him to let go.

He heard a caw from the enormous bird of prey hovering about them. 'Watch your head' was Katarina's last warning before he took off into the night. He won't let her down of course. Demacians are scum, he reminded himself.

The subtle praises of the analysis were understatements once she proved that she could indeed, best one of the most feared assassins in all of Noxus. A street rat who have risen to power, rebellious to the Government, loyal to the Du Couteau. Him, a man like any other who craved more than the gold in his pockets and a roof over his head. It's a shame that she had to die by his hands. He was having fun after all. A worthy opponent. It was a rare sight to see. He'd never thought that the assassin Katarina had been talking about was this woman.

His heart was hammering in his chest, a sudden panic through his body as he looked up to see the ceiling staring back at him. And there it was, another day he had to go through before having the next. And it doesn't seem to end. He felt as if he was a slave. Or a puppet, with the summoners pulling at his strings. He doesn't give a damn about Noxus. He was there to find Marcus' true killer himself. The man who welcomed him into their lives. The man who fed him, took him into care and even treated him as if he was one of his own children.

Back then he had three suspects:

Swain, Quinn and an unknown suspect yet to be seen.

He'd observed them through their years even before their servitude in the Institute of War.

Swain was his best bet. Of course he could have. After Marcus' disappearance he had risen to the highest rank a Noxian could ever dream of. To him, life was bitter. It was cruel a cruel void that sucked everything in its path. Some fought against it, some are just lucky. Unlike him. Orphaned at a young age, or at least didn't get a chance to meet his parents. His only memories are of the foul-smelling grounds of Noxian soil and the scent of steel with a hint of blood.

Last night however was an exception. It reminded him how life could be sweet for a change.

By just swinging by her room and slipping in through the window made him feel more of a man than a monster. Or a stalker, really. He's a weird admirer. An awkward one. He had little to no knowledge about courtship or whatever customs her Nation has that he doesn't know of. Not that he had plans to court her though, does he?

He closed his eyes again as he remembered the way he watched her sleep. Unlike the other times he saw her, she looked more at peace as if she trusted that he wouldn't do anything that would hurt her. Not the first time he bedded her, nor the night when she arrived in the league but at that moment of all nights. She let him in. She trusted him as if she read his mind that was free of grim intentions. Or maybe she was tired of being vigilant around him. Maybe she gave him the pleasure to sate his curiosity.

Or maybe she knew that he missed her.

He would naturally avoid that thought but his gaze upon her says otherwise. Like the assassin he was, his steps were muted, gusts of wind that entered the room were heard. He kneeled in front of the bed where she faced, one knee placed on the floor as he slowly reached to brush the streak of violet hair that shrouded her face. His heart warmed whenever he watched her breathe. Every one of his attempts to keep her alive and safe led up to these kind of moments where he cherished her existence. She kept his cold, rigid heart warm.

He had leaned in and pressed his lips onto her forehead. She didn't rouse. She wanted him there, that night.

He got up from his bed, showered and head out to the mess hall and chew on whatever food that they served.

Every morning reminded him how harsh and lonely this life could be.

Maybe he had to take his mind off of things through more exertion. His world shouldn't fully revolve around this woman.


"So I told him not to do anything rash because we both know that we're stuck in there." His

sister said, stabbing her fork into the meat that she ignored a few minutes earlier.

"Zed too strange to be a skin partner?" Morgana asked, drinking a mug of dark, unidentified liquid.

"Too serious to even cooperate with festivities. I thought Harrowing was supposed to be fun." Her eyes drifted to her little brother's hunched form.

"How about you Talon, how is being partnered to that narcissistic maniac going on? Lucky to be the first guy he's partnered with, right?" She was talking about Jhin, The Virtuoso. That freak he's been stuck with since the fitting phase.

"You're too chatty today, woman." He countered, not wanting to recall the awkward moments.

"You know how much I miss Cassie sitting with us at a table, Talon."

Katarina was desparate. And he knows it, yes but something seems off about her that he couldn't sense. She was being less sarcastic and less sour-faced than usual. Cassiopeia as always, was being snobbish- too snobbish this week, leaving Katarina and Talon alone in their usual table. The eldest Du Couteau sister who was always upset about these matters, would usually look for someone to drag along their table and chat with.

"Alright, he's nuts. That's it." Talon admitted, internally cringed as he remembered when the infamous Virtuoso was in the same room as him. Like the many times he "performed" in Noxus, he remained mysterious and unpredictable as the Noxian assassin put it. Seeing the colors of the flag on that man made his gut wrench. He was that kind of Ionian, like the Zed that Katarina had brought up right after they sat on the benches.

Ionians were diverse. From gentle warriors to manic murderers, they shone in their own ways. Like how the long-haired samurai appealed most to the younger summoners and how the enlightened Karma appealed most to the wiser ones. The way they dressed themselves intrigued him. They may have virtues that caged their true potential but they were free in different aspects.

"My thoughts remain boggled about him. True, he is a maniac but somehow more useful than other marksmen that they pair up with me." Morgana said, defending the "useful" narcissistic psychopath.

"Well, it's a good thing that the fitting stage ended, right? Now you have a new clownsuit in the closet." Kat teased, slicing through the food on her plate.

"I might wear it later to battle. Pleasing Ionian summoners and all." As Talon finished his meal, he looked at the giant orb in the middle of the room that previewed the live morning shift of some of the champions.

He looked at the screen, surprised to see that his scout was the one who had been carrying the game. She's almost at 27 kills with 9 deaths and 11 assists. That was way too strong. The last time he had been in that kind of spotlight was a little over a few months ago. That was one of her capabilities, her raw strength displayed in battle.

"You seem troubled lately, Talon." Morgana sat in front of him, her gown flooding the floor with fabric across him.

"I was having thoughts to myself, thank you very much."

"I kid. It's just that I'm not getting used to this duller version of the glorified bastard in front of me."

He glared at the fallen angel, her words dripped with toxic. "I don't follow."

"Use that sensible head of yours and sniff out the change, is always a conflict after one Du Couteau member parts. I sense that Cassie will go back to Shurima any time now."

"You sense she's in trouble?"

"I sense nothing. That brat has just been getting out of hand even before she turned into the monster she is now. I'm still concerned of course. Keep her nose out of things."

"She can handle herself, I can assure that." He replied sarcastically. Why should he care about Cassie? The last time Katarina and he had offered, mostly Katarina, she almost threw one of her childish tantrums at them. She insisted, telling them to fuck off and reasuring them that she was a grown-ass woman.

The orb shook as if it exploded, the familiar voice the announcer boomed across the mess hall.

"RED TEAM VICTORY" She said, a round of applause from some of the champions who had found the match entertaining. The conflict in the Middle lane between The Master of Shadows, Zed and The Wings of Demacia, Quinn was the highlight of the game, followed by the conflicted Rengar and his summoner who have been complaining about how The Starchild kept her team mates alive just in time after he'd dealt damage.

"Poor Rengar. Last time I saw him in the rift, he was mowing through champions like grass." Morgana commented as Talon stood up and left, preparing for his assigned match.

"And they said she'd been too weak in the rift to continue..."

"We can't survive those assults, she outdone herself."

"Least popular Demacian in the spotlight, eh?"

He heard the other champions murmur.

Author's notes:

I have missed you all my friends! Next chapter is about the dinner that Lux invited her to. A little bit of boy talk and flashbacks and the issue about whether Quinn is a lesbian and shit. I just hate those people who thinks she is.