'In there, please,' the blades-woman muttered listlessly after herself and Quinn had ascended two flights of stairs. 'The General had me pick it out specially for you. I will knock on your door in ten minutes and escort you to him once you are fully dressed. Oh, by the way-' she added in her flat, distant tone, '-don't try anything funny. I'm on this side of the room, and two Noxian guards are underneath the window. That dress will not hang so prettily if you lose a limb before you put it on…'

'I figured as such,' Quinn sighed, rolling her eyes and dumping her jacket on the nearest pouffe. She thought she saw Katarina's thin cheekbone twitch with amusement for a second, but the momentary glow of humour in her emerald eyes soon burnt out and was replaced by death as she opened the door. The ranger stepped in cautiously, tensed for an ambush, but she let the stress abate for a fleeting second when no knife beaded her skin or fist slammed into her back. Coughing lightly on the swirling dust of the room, the Sinister Blade slammed the door behind her. Quinn could hear her soft, breathy sigh on the other side of the door and was dismayed that the assassin had kept her word.

She did appreciate, however, that Katarina left it unlocked; the claustrophobia may have proven too much for her. She tried to breath evenly as she took in the sight of the small boudoir, her face sunken and hair sticking up from another restless night in Noxian captivity. The ranger took a small peek out of the window and sure enough, she was greeted with glares from the two hulking crimson figures below, before she tutted and ripped the curtain across its rusty rail for some privacy. She turned up her nose at the lack of care given to the fine, polished furniture studded throughout the dressing room: in Demacia, such historical objects would have been lovingly restored and preserved for the enjoyment of future generations. Perhaps in Noxus, they did not bother with the pleasures of restoration for subsequent families owing to the higher-than-average death rate. Or, Quinn thought bitterly, maybe they just did not know how to care for anything but themselves. As she moved through the dim candlelight, watching the burning candelabras drip onto the greasy floorboards below, she was wondering what she needed to do until her eyes fell upon a stunning red velvet dress. Quite unlike the shimmering Demacian silks she was used to seeing around Lightshield Castle, she stepped over to it, staring at its petite curves, and started as a hastily-scrawled note caught her eye.

This was your mother's. Put it on.

She knew that the spidery black writing was Swain's, and a somersault of emotions hammered at her chest as she trailed one hand down its sleeve. Quinn's skin prickled with adrenaline: she was the closest she had ever gotten to the mother she never really knew. She knew from its slender shape and mid-length that they were the same size, and her throat tightened as she involuntarily brushed a little dust off its shoulder. The close proximity to her mother's spirit was agonising, and the fact that Swain had kept the garment suggested that there may have been a touch of sentimentality left in the old man's twisted heart. Fumbling at her wrist, she stroked Caleb's threaded bracelet against her bony wrist and felt hot, feverish tears kneading her red eyes. Growling at them to go away, her heart raged as she realised the General had done this on purpose. By passing down a family heirloom, he hoped to manipulate her emotions. She knew he held the key to her past, to the complete family unit she had never been lucky enough to experience. All she really knew about her parents was what a young, shielded Caleb had told her: Daddy was a superhero, a powerful tower of a man, and Mummy had the softest hands and warmest cuddles a young boy could ask for.

'Five minutes,' she heard Katarina warn from the other side of the warped door. The ranger stuck her tongue out in her direction, but was startled at the assassin's response.

'I saw that.'

'How?!' Quinn yelped, mortification bubbling in her chest. 'Stop watching me, you pervert! Oh my God! I'm pretty sure this breaks several conventions of the Institute of Wa-'

'I'm not looking at your scrawny little body, princess,' Katarina sniffed dismissively. 'I just assumed you would have done something insolent. Assassins can predict your every move, so behave wisely.'

The ranger darkly muttered a jibe about her brother's failure in that department and got on with undressing, though not before she had hung up her jacket on the door for fear that she was being watched. She half-considered refusing to wear the offending and yet comforting garment but recognised that she would be more likely to get into Swain's good books if she showed willing. Plus, she had to admit that she had no desire to wriggle back into the stained, ripped and sweaty outfit she had been captured by Talon in.

Sighing at the impossibility of her situation, she gave in and draped the gorgeous crimson material across her wiry body before slipping her small feet into some black patent heels.

'All done?' Katarina asked, her husky voice sounding relieved as she stepped in without knocking. 'Ugh, thank god. That's enough dress-up. Come on, or we'll be late.'

'I'm not a dog,' Quinn snapped, glaring at the ruby-haired killer as she signalled for Katarina to lead her down the stairs. Again, the assassin's lip quirked upwards at the Demacian's distrust, and she lifted up her tiny black dress to flash an unarmed holster. 'Don't worry, I'm not going to stab you in the back. I feel positively naked right now, but Swain forbids weapons at the dinner table. He believes that if we need to arm ourselves in the heart of the Bastion, then Noxus has failed us.'

'That's because you are more or less naked in that dress,' Quinn remarked snippily, though she took the hint and began the descent. Katarina took her insult with a genuine laugh, a deep throaty hum which almost unsettled the ranger more than her thinly-veiled threats.

'Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it,' the killer murmured. 'Maybe the Ionian would notice you more if you did the same.'

She enjoyed the peony burn that flushed Quinn's high cheekbones, willing to twist the knife in a little bit further. 'Don't worry, I've not told Swain about your lover warrior…yet.'

'There's nothing to tell,' the ranger sniffed as they descended the spiral staircase. 'I thought it might be the last time I'd see my friends. I just did what felt right at the time.'

'Is swapping saliva some Demacian friendship custom I don't know about?' Katarina teased, shivering at the memory. 'Ugh. Either way, I think my sister has beaten you to the punch. She seems pretty smitten with this Yasuo.'

'All women are,' Quinn commented before she could stop herself, and the assassin's glassy cat's eyes widened at this admission. 'I mean – not all women…just-'

'Don't worry, dearest,' Katarina murmured, patting Quinn's hand with a strange mix of sarcasm and compassion. 'We all want what we can't have. It's normal.'

'What do you mean?' Quinn asked in exasperation as they threaded through the Bastion towards its dining quarters. 'Don't you think I could get him or something?'

'Sweetie, he just doesn't look at you the same way that you look at him,' she commented bluntly. 'He was not enjoying that kiss with you when I came downstairs. Sorry.'

Quinn was done with the antagonism from Katarina, but the assassin's words pierced her heart with the same bloody efficiency as one of her crafted blades. As she thought back to her impromptu kiss with the warrior, her innards curdled; at the time, she has interpreted his firm grip as a sign of pulling her closer, not pushing her away. Her cheeks conflagrated once more at having misread the situation, and her fragile mood flitted to both humiliation and disappointment. She looked up at the assassin, expecting to clock a sneer on her sharp features, but she was surprised by the pitying look on her face as she nodded her head to the two guards standing on each side of Swain's door. They bowed their heads, their faces eerily concealed with the distinctive iron-forged Noxian helmets that haunted Quinn's dreams, and then stomped to attention, parting their axes from the door with a flourish. She hesitated as one of them flinched towards her, wondering what she had done wrong, but with a penetrating glare from Katarina, he slipped back into attention.

'The Demacian's with me,' she sighed, rolling her beautiful emerald eyes. 'And if you oppose my authority one more time, soldier, your head will be on tonight's menu instead. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, ma'am,' the soldier grunted, and Quinn's bowel quivered as she knew she recognised that voice. Its smooth edges were roughed up by the throaty, scratchy response, but something about it struck a chord within the ranger: she could not help but peer closer at the guard before Katarina yanked her into the dining quarters.

'They're training up some new recruits today,' the assassin explained in a tired voice, swirling her sleek ruby ponytail around her neck and down her right shoulder. 'So we're stuck with these bumbling fools until we can finally make men of them. Sorry about that.'

Quinn nodded, but was again distracted as she caught sight of a musician cradling a violin in the foyer before the main dining hall. His music was unlike anything she had ever heard before – or had she heard it before? She shivered as the sweet, pitchy melody permeated her senses, stunned by the musician's unusual appearance: a white, contorted mask, robotic arms crafting his beautiful music, and intense brown eyes drifting into unknown fantasies. He looked up at the new arrivals, the movement implying he was smiling despite his wooded expression being fixed in place, and he gave a deep sound of acknowledgement.

'Katarina…' he breathed, the conversation not hindering the virtuosic dance of his fingers. 'How lovely to see you here for once. You look ravishing as always, my love.'

'Jhin,' she offered relatively politely, though Quinn could sense the unease rolling off the assassin at the exchange. She had never seen Katarina scared before, but this Jhin seemed to unsettle her for some reason. To be fair, the ranger thought, he would unsettle anyone. The way his eyes flickered between the two women made her think of human eyes roving in a still portrait, and she soon had to drop her head to cease staring at this strange man. Those blazing eyes did not miss a trick, however, and his own head turned over in curiosity.

'And who is this?' he asked softly, pausing briefly to indicate the ranger with his bow before returning to his musical slavery. 'A friend?'

'Hardly,' Katarina snorted, turning to the awestruck ranger and lazily indicating her. 'This is Quinn. She's a Demacian who fell into the wrong hands. Or the right hands, perhaps.'

'My greatest sympathies,' the Virtuoso offered to her, earning him a light swipe from Katarina which evoked a jarring laugh from him. 'It's not so bad once you get used to it, I promise, Quinn. The Noxians are more accommodating than you'd think.'

Quinn grimaced, feeling unclean at hearing her name trickle off the stranger's tongue, and she indicated to Katarina that she wanted to go in. The assassin took the hint and grasped the ranger's wrist- regrettably the one still healing from its break a good month or two ago – before dragging her into the banquet hall. Her heart had dropped as she realised that she recognised Jhin's music in her ears the night Talon had tried to kill her. Damn, she was even getting flashes of Swain's life even then? She felt sick at the feeling of déjà vu sloshing around in her gut but was soon distracted by the menacing assortment of Noxians gathered in the smoking room. She had naively been under the impression that this meeting would just be between herself and her…grandfather. Self-assured, arrogant and curious eyes gazed at the entering ranger: she recognised Darius, Talon, Vladimir and Cassiopeia with a shudder, and saw Swain give her one of his rare, eye-creasing smiles as he indicated for her to come over.

'Quinn - my dear girl! How marvellous you look in your mother's dress. It's almost as if Beatie herself has swanned back into my life!'

She nodded at the compliment, but just before she was about to open her mouth to respond, Swain clicked his calloused fingers and a crystal glass had been slotted into her fist. She looked up and was not ready for the close proximity of Yasuo, whose wild brown locks had been hunched up into a messy bun. He was dressed in the claret uniform of a Bastion waiter, the bulging seams struggling to contain his bulky figure. The ranger noted the roughness with which he had shoved the glass into her unexpectant hand, but she bit her lip and tried to suppress the dewy fluid building up in her eyes at his dismissive treatment of her.

'Tut tut, Cass,' Katarina remarked with amusement, eyeing up the awkward exchange between the two. 'Can't you control your brute? That's no way for a Swain to be treated.'

'He's learning, darling,' the serpent responded in protest, taking a deep sip from her large glass of merlot as she lolled back on a brassy chaise longue. She grinned manically at her sister, purple staining her sharp teeth. 'That's not all I've taught him, either.'

'Ugh, Cassie,' Talon groaned, rolling his eyes around their almond-shaped sockets. 'Sibling alert. I don't want to know what depraved things you're making the Ionian do.'

'Not in that way!' she countered indignantly, though she fluttered her eyelashes at the warrior as he topped up her glass. 'No, he's even started to learn how to cook, haven't you sweetie?'

'Yes,' he muttered darkly, the ranger's heart burning at the way Cassiopeia was treating him like a child. She had to bite the inside of her lip to refrain from shouting at her as she caught sight of the same red coiled poison scars that had littered her own body on his forearm, and she quickly cottoned on to how the snake-lady was 'teaching' him: the scars served as a silent testimony of her reprimands if he did something wrong. She looked up the warrior, whose chocolate brown eyes had become dulled with pain, and the fleeting look he gave her was one that burnt with resentment and fury.

'The blood laws are there for a reason, Cassiopeia,' Darius rumbled, turning around from the painting he was observing to address her. 'No funny business. I mean it.'

'You're just jealous, darling,' the serpent replied sultrily, pouting at the commander as she waved her wine glass. 'I'm sure I can find the time to teach you a thing or two, as well.'

'No thanks,' he grumbled back, throwing a whiskey down his neck and inhaling sharply with its warming glow. 'You taught my brother far too much for his own good. I'll take his advice and leave you the hell alone.'

Quinn had let out an involuntary chuckle at his jibe but soon realised with a sense of dread that it was not meant to be funny - Cassiopeia's lemon eyes widened in genuine pain and she uncharacteristically drooped her head back towards her glass. As she tried to puzzle out why the mention of Darius' brother had hurt her feelings, she was distracted by Swain clearing his throat and trying to smooth over the social faux pas.

'Speaking of Darius, I believe you are not yet formally acquainted, are you Quinn?' the commander spoke curiously, tilting his head at his granddaughter. 'Shake hands, my girl.'

Quinn's wide golden eyes flitted nervously to the bulky captain, who simply grunted in her direction instead of taking her outstretched hand. Her hand slithered back underneath her table like a drowning fish and she stared back down at her glass.

'I hope you two can get to know each other a little better,' Swain pressed on, ignoring the awkward engage as he sunk a shot of vodka with enthusiasm. 'Darius was the heir I never had until you came along, Quinn. There's much you could learn from one another.'

'I doubt it,' the Hand of Noxus grumbled, swirling amber whiskey around her glass. 'Girl's still wet behind the ears. There's nothing she could help me or the Imperial Army with.'

'On the contrary,' the ranger responded curtly, surprising even herself with her clipped tone, 'You've no idea of what I've gone through and what I'm capable of.'

'Ranks are commissioned in Demacia, not earnt,' he scoffed at her. 'You got your place in the Dauntless Vanguard because of your looks, not because you're worth anything.'

'You got your place in Noxus because you're a bully,' she fired back, though Darius' sledgehammer words hit her in all her vulnerable places. 'A coward and a bastard.'

'Now, now,' Swain waded in, apparently disappointed at the bitter exchange as the ranger and soldier glared at one another. 'Whether you like it or not, Darius, she's one of us now. And Quinn, I would recommend you don't poke the grizzly bear on your first night. But he's the best right-hand man I could ask for, and you'll see that in due course. Let us drink.'

The adversaries turned back down to their respective drinks, though Quinn caught sight of an amused smirk on Katarina's face and what looked like a shimmer of pride in her grandfather's reddened eyes. Her stomach was still queasy at the hostile surroundings, but she also began to hate herself for the fact that at least here, in Noxus, sentiments were expressed in clear language and with unambiguous feeling. The years of two-faced social diplomacy she had put with in Demacia had driven her half-mad, her blood seething with the false airs and graces of court life at Lightshield Castle. At the Bastion, much against her will, she could at least appreciate the brutal honestly dished out by her unlikely companions, and she respected the fact that Darius refused to conceal how he truly felt about the new addition.

'Once she's got her head out of her arse, Jericho, she'll make a good Noxian,' Cassiopeia drawled unexpectedly, her lemon eyes sparkling maliciously as she looked the ranger up and down. 'I've never seen anyone stand up to you like that, Darius. You've met your match.'

'Insolence is only admirable when you've got the means to back it up,' the henchman responded irritably, knocking back his second whiskey like water. 'I could snap her like a twig if she tried anything, and she knows it. It'd be a shame to break that pretty neck.'

Quinn hissed at the threat, although just one look at Darius' rippling muscles and chunky fingers confirmed his menacing prediction. 'If you were a true Noxian, Darius,' she replied harshly, giving her wine a wary sniff and then taking a sip, 'you'd know that strength doesn't just come from the body. It also comes from the heart, the mind and the gut. It comes from tackling adversity and finding ways to make up for what you lack. Or are you too stupid to realise that?'

'So I'm stupid, huh?' the Noxian growled, his gooseberry eyes locking with hers. 'Well, the Demacians would know all about stupidity, I suppose. They're never able to win a clean fight by themselves.'

'They never win a clean fight because it's always a dirty battle the minute your lot are involved!' Quinn snapped. She brushed away Swain's tugging of her arm, not taking her eyes off the bull-headed Noxian. 'Your entire army is not worth the bones of one Demacian.'

Darius let out a harsh bark and turned to Swain, his battle scar snaking upwards with his smirk. 'Really, Jericho? She's your heir now? Her poor little head's far too clogged up with Demacian guff to ever be capable of directing our great nation! This is a fucking joke.'

'Darius!' Swain hissed, clearly agitated at his right-hand man's dissent. 'I will not have this bile spewed at my own flesh and blood. What? Oh, I'm coming,' he snapped to Katarina, who seemed to be signalling to him from the other side of the room. 'Play nice, you two,' he added threateningly, his dirty look particularly aimed towards the gruff Noxian.

'What is your problem?' Quinn hissed under her breath as soon as Swain had departed. The aggressor exhaled roughly, drained his glass and then, to her surprise, stormed away from her. She followed him into a nearby corridor, snapping at his heels. 'No, don't walk away from me. 'I've done nothing to you at all, so why look at me like I'm shit on your boots?'

'It's not anything you have done, Demacian,' Darius finally snarled, looking behind her before pulling her aside. 'It's what you're yet to do. I have pledged my life and service to this nation, and I don't want to see it go down the drain at the hands of a war floozy like you.'

'What did you just call me?' the ranger gasped, her grip clutching harder on her glass as the sticky liquid spilt over her bare hands. Her head was throbbing with the growing anger, but she tried to contain the liquid fury in her veins to avoid being overheard in the other room.

'You heard me,' he rumbled, his heavy jawline set with dislike. 'From what Talon has told me, you're nothing to be afraid of. You can't even fight off one assassin, and yet here you are, primed to be the next leader of Noxus if poor Jericho ever pops his clogs.'

'He clearly didn't tell you that I had already evaded him once, and that the second time he had a pirate crew to help him,' she growled back, glaring with the injustice.

'If you were worth your salt, you would not have even let yourself get in that situation,' Darius countered roughly, catching hold of her arm. 'I don't care what the General says - you are not a worthy Noxian heir. You weren't born here. You didn't struggle here. The public will lynch you in the streets when they learn of you, and civil war will be on the cards.'

'Let go of me,' she spat, trying to shrug out of his iron grip. 'You're being ridiculous - I've only just got here! Swain doesn't want me to lead! I'll never lead Noxus. Oww! Darius!'

He did not relent an inch and she tried to kick his shins, to which he caught hold of her high-heeled foot and twisted her ankle enough to make her yelp. He picked her up and shoved her hard against the wall. 'Ouch! What are you doing? Get off me! Stop it!'

'The thing is though, I know we can prevent a rebellion,' he urged her, breathing heavily with the effort of fighting against her squirming body. He pressed his jagged mouth to her warm ear, lowering his scratchy voice to her as he held her by the throat. 'I don't like you, Miss Swain. I might even go so far as to say that it was hate at first sight when I first saw you. You're everything I loathe in a woman, but you're also everything I need.'

'What are you going to do to me?' she choked, hating herself for the quivering fear in her voice. She clawed at his hands, but they stayed strong on her thin windpipe. His laugh was like sandpaper as he slid her slowly back down to her feet, though his butcher's hand did not release her. 'Don't hurt me, Darius, please…let me go…'

'I may be a brute, Quinn, but I'm not a bastard,' he assured her darkly. 'I'm not the sick fuck you think I am, and I don't want to harm you if I can avoid it. I ask only one thing of you, and I suggest you think very carefully about your answer.'

'What is it?' she cried out, feeling dizzy from her hindered oxygen supply, resistance bleeding away from her muscles as her fearful golden eyes bore into his frozen green ones.

'If you had a trusted consort by your side once you succeed Jericho, he could smooth out the transitional period and consolidate your popularity as the new High Commander of Noxus.' He leant forward until the pair were almost nose-to-nose, so close that the ranger could see every blade of silver hair straggling from the roots of his jet-black hair. 'A consort can be a father, an uncle, or a husband.'

'Wait...no…no!' she gasped in horror as his weighed words hit home. She froze in his grip, forgetting to breathe as she quivered in his hands. 'Are- are you proposing to me? No!'

'It's not really a proposal as such,' he countered, his scar wrinkling as he smiled down coldly at her. 'It's more an explanation of what we're going to do. I'm going to tell your grandfather that our antagonism stems from the undeniable romantic connection between us, that I can't stop thinking about you, and that nothing would make me happier than to take your hand in marriage. I'm the son he never had. Of course he'd say yes to our union.'

'Are-are you mad?' she shrieked, straining to get out of his hands; this time he let her go. 'I don't even know you. You don't know me! You hate me! And I hate you too and-'

'People don't always get what they want in this world, girl,' Darius interrupted her, folding his bulky arms. 'You're right, I do hate you. I hate where you're from; I hate what you stand for; I hate your whiny voice and your pathetic victim complex. But guess what, Quinn? Empires have been settled and battle lines drawn by loveless marriages since the dawn of time. This is an opportunity that I cannot miss, and one that could benefit you too.'

'And if I refuse?' she croaked, staring at him with widened eyes. 'If I tell my grandfather of your plot to use me, what will happen? Darius?'

'My men saw you near the Ironspike Mountains with that Ionian maven of yours a couple of months back,' he muttered, cupping her chin roughly as he tilted her head up to look at him. 'That means you know how close our forces are to your beloved homeland. If you don't agree to marry me, I can give the order to advance just like that.' He snapped his powerful fingers in front of her, provoking a rebellious, solitary tear to trickle from her jewelled eyes. 'Everyone you ever knew will fall to the might of Noxus, and we won't rest until we can call Demacia and all of its territories our own. You knew this was coming. We all did. But the power to stop it lies with you. Say yes, Quinn.'

She gazed up at the Noxian monster with tears in her eyes, her stomach flailing wildly at the thought of marrying the man responsible for so many dead Demacians. The mind games he was capable of negated his rugged good looks: she felt sick at the thought of being trapped with him for life.

'I need an answer,' he exhaled sharply, stroking her cheekbone roughly with his broad thumb. 'I will never stab Jericho in the back as long as he lives, but I have to ensure the stability of this nation once he eventually passes. He's getting no younger, and times are getting harder. Give me what I want, and I'll spare your countrymen, Quinn. I promise.'

'You're evil,' she whispered, feeling broken as she tried in vain to locate any glimmer of humanity in the soldier's cold gaze. 'Swain wouldn't want you to blackmail me.'

'I know him better than he knows himself,' he retorted hotly. 'And he wants what's best for this country. Or I can just give the order to the men and we'll snap the bones of every Demacian to ever walk the-'

'Yes!' she sobbed, closing her eyes in pain. 'Yes, Darius, okay? Yes. Are you happy now? Yes, I will marry you. Just don't hurt them. Please. For my sake.'

The Hand of Noxus smiled as he pulled the defeated ranger closer to him, the diplomatic victory sweet on his tongue, and he brushed his lips against her taut brow.

'Good girl. I knew you'd see it my way.'