With them, it was always something. Something would happen, a dangerous mission, a threatening note, maybe a bit of torture here and there. There was always some new problem right around the corner. So really, when he woke up with a very sharp knife pressed to his throat, it shouldn't have surprised him. And he certainly shouldn't have laughed, because the movement pressed the edge in, drawing blood with an annoying stab of pain.
"You think this is funny?" She hissed, lifting her blade slightly and digging her heel into his side instead. "Lost your goddamn drive, right? Or maybe you were directing too much energy into being a traitor."
He couldn't help it. He laughed again, earning a swift kick to his rib cage. "Me, a traitor, sister? What of you and that captain?"
A snarl this time, and the knife pressed into his throat again. "It's not the same and you know it. He's a toy. She's... you care for her. After all we did for you!"
"I wasn't aware that my personal life was also the property of Noxus. I've done nothing to hurt your precious home, Kat." He kept his voice level, refusing to show any emotion, especially fear. She would recognize fear, and she would take it for weakness. And perhaps it was, though the fear was not for himself, despite the cool edge digging into his skin with every breath he drew. No, there was no selfish terror, only a cold dread spreading deep in his chest, worry for her. For what it would do to her if Katarina left him dead tonight. For what would happen if Katarina went after her instead.
"Nothing to hurt my home?" She let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I wonder, then, where our slippery prisoner escaped to, a few months ago. I imagine she was covered in small cuts and bruises, drenched in rain. Probably crying, as she slipped into your house and your bed. And what did you do?! You let her in, protected her. You knew better! You should have-!" Her voice broke off, sentence ending in a strangled cry as she plunged the knife into the bed next to his head.
"Kat, I..." he trailed off before he'd even began. There was nothing he could say.
"Don't." She snarled. "Don't you dare. I trusted you." And with that, she fled his bedroom and then his house, door slamming behind her.
He collapsed back into his pillows, careful to avoid the knife embedded into his mattress. This was going to be a problem.