the past is sharp like broken glass
Garen was sitting in her room. Of course, he was, Katarina thought rolling her eyes, her fiancée seemed unusually inclined to get to know her. She was trying her best to ignore him, instead polishing her daggers silently and checking if any of them needed sharpening. The familiar work comforting her in ways that just a few things besides alcohol could, and god knew she needed something to comfort herself. She had danced with Lux yesterday, for fuck's sake. After escorting her to the banquet, clinging to her arm like a stupid schoolgirl.
To be fair she had been drinking all evening; she had already downed half a bottle when she'd shown up in Lux' room, trying to tell herself she was just making friends with her future sister-in-law, but it had been a lie then just as much it was one now. It had felt good to be near Lux. It had also hurt, horribly, it still did. Some part of Katarina knew this was why she had avoided leaving her room today as much as she could. Pathetic, she could almost hear Riven whisper.
Garen flipped a page in the book he was reading, and the faint sound of rustling paper pulled Katarina out of her thoughts. It was getting late, and faintly she wondered when he was going to leave, and if he was actually going to manage starting a conversation before it. Maybe, if she threw him a bone, he might just say what he wanted and then leave. She turned her head slightly to find him looking at her with a curious expression in his eyes.
"Something's up?", she asked. His eyes flickered to her daggers and back to her face. She pulled up the corners of her mouth, the smile not really reaching her eyes. It didn't matter, Garen hadn't commented on her fake smiles yet. Chances were, he just wasn't observant enough to notice they were fake at all.
"Your weapons look nicely taken care of.", he responded slowly. "I don't think I've ever sharpened my sword as much in peaceful times as you do your daggers. It's almost as if you expect to get attacked any second."
Katarina arched an eyebrow.
"I'd rather take care of my weapons and not needing them than dying a stupid and avoidable death."
"So you really were armed yesterday?"
She couldn't really read his expressing, but it wasn't a happy one. "Of course.", she said, and Garen sighed.
"You know that Demacia is a great deal safer than Noxus, right? Nobody will attack you on a banquet. And If they do, there are bodyguards to protect you."
Somewhere in the back of Katarina's head, she knew he wasn't all wrong, security in Demacia was better than in Noxus, but talking down on Noxus like this still ticked her off. She didn't need to be told how much of a shithole her home country was, not by somebody like Garen.
"If I needed protection from demacian bodyguards -", she growled, disgust in her voice, "- nobody would need to attack me, because I'd end my sorry life myself."
"I never said you needed the protection, I'm just saying that if it's there anyways, you might as well take advantage of it."
Garen sounded defensively, and the reasonable part of Katarina's mind told her to stop the discussion there before it escalated further, but she was tired, hung over and annoyed, and honestly Katarina never had been a reasonable person in the first place.
"So you want me to pretend that I can't take care of myself because the rest of demacian nobility can't either?", she asked instead, getting angrier by the minute. "What for? That everyone else can save face by pretending their weakness is normal?"
Garen wanted to say something, but she cut him off.
"It's pathetic, really. That guy you talked to at the banquet, Mr. Everguard, wasn't it? He wouldn't survive a week in Noxus."
Garen closed his book, dropped it on the table besides him and looked at her frustrated.
"He is an advisor to the crown, not a fighter, Katarina. He's not supposed to be strong; he's supposed to be smart."
"Yeah, because it's such a fucking great idea to have somebody advice the crown that can't even cross the street without a bodyguard."
"But letting soldiers make political decisions when they have no qualification other than a body count is one?"
There was a hint of anger in Garen's voice and Katarina was nearly grateful for it, she didn't think she would have been able to take his annoyed facial expression for another minute without punching him. It was exhausting to argue with somebody whose only emotion seemed to be polite interest. Why had she even started this conversation in the first place?
"Sure, it is. We have politicians who understand the peasants, the needs of the normal folk. Noxus is governed by humans who aren't afraid to visit the slums, talk to beggars and criminals, not by a royal family that lost touch with reality decades ago.", she responded, sounder prouder of her country than she actually was.
"You really think that, don't you?", his tone was darker now, angrier. It reminded Katarina of the soldier he had been years ago. "That you guys make politics for the people? Tell me, Katarina, how happy are the people now, after their lands were destroyed by your own army's acid? You can either beg for help with your famine or tell everyone how great your way of leading a country is but doing both is where it gets ridiculous."
Katarina didn't even notice herself jumping to her feet in anger, she just knew that suddenly, she was standing, a dagger in her hand and her head pounding with rage.
"Garen Crownguard, don't you dare blame the noxian government for losing the war when it was your country that forced us into a war on two fronts! If it hadn't been for Demacia, we would have won, and everybody knows it!", she growled.
"So Noxus expected that the rest of Runeterra wouldn't care if you declared war on Ionia and started slaughtering every village you came across? Sound like you are the people wo lost touch to reality to me."
"The rest of Runeterra certainly didn't care shit about Ionia stealing our land for ages, but suddenly when Noxus fights back we're the evil ones? The land norther of Piltover had been ours for centuries, we were just taking it back."
"So mass murder and chemical warfare is called taking back land now?", Garen had raised his voice now, "That's one interesting philosophy."
"What did you expect us to do, simply accept that we had to import food all the time because Ionia stole the only productive lands we had? Of course,", she gave him a twisted, sarcastic smile, "Demacia would have profited off that, right? You were the ones exporting wheat to Noxus in the first place, which is probably the real reason why you sided with Ionia."
"That the dumbest conspiracy theory I've ever heard. There wasn't even prove that Noxus owned these lands in the first place, and even if you did, what the hell was killing peasants supposed to accomplish? It didn't make you right, it just made you murderers!"
A conspiracy theory? And how dared he, Katarina thought, suppressing the urge to attack him in earnest, how could he possibly dare to call her a murderer, when it had been Demacia who had made so sure to leave no survivors?
"That's rich coming from the guy whose military had entire teams dedicated to killing everybody left on the battlefield after you won a battle. But that's Demacia for you, isn't it? Always pretending to be righteous, always pretending that you just came to help poor Ionia, when in reality you are just as cruel as us. Being ashamed of who you are doesn't make you any better, so get the fuck off your moral high horse. If I'm a murderer than your one as well. At least you've gotten to be born on the winning team. Lucky you."
For a second Garen closed his eyes and she dared to hope this had finally shut him up, but when he opened his eyes in there, there was a cold anger in them that send shivers down her spine. He had the same eyes as Lux, she was violently reminded, and if he wanted, he could be just as lethal as his younger sister.
"The winning team? Do you have any idea how many demacian people died in this war? How many kids were orphaned, how many women widowed? I can tell you, Katarina. Nearly every third demacian family lost somebody. In Ionia, it's every second. I've carried the bodies off the battlefield myself, we buried them in mass graves because there were so many. Sometimes we didn't even have the time for that. The pictures haunt me still, just as they haunt Lux, and every time I wake up after dreaming of rotting bodies and dying teenagers, I remember that it was Noxus, who started this war, who caused all this death and horror. Because you wanted a few productive lands back that you can't even prove ever belonged to you."
"Oh, cut that crap.", she hissed. "You think Noxus has no orphaned children, no widowed women? You think I don't know how a battlefield smells, how it feels to have your friends die in your arms?"
Garen wanted to say something, but she cut him off. "The war wasn't about getting back a few strips of productive land, it was about power. If we just accept Ionia stealing our land, what kind of signal does that send to them and to the rest of Runeterra? Do you think, Noxus got where it is today by being weak in front of our enemies?"
"You do realize that killing peasants just to send a signal is even worse than killing them for taking back land, do you?", he said coldly.
"For fucks sake, Garen!", she screamed, and when she continued talking, her voice dripped hatred. "Do you have any idea how respect even works? It's about power, and about the willingness to follow through with what you threat to do. It's about being feared. If everything you ever do is asking nicely and accept every no, you can be as powerful as you want to be, people will still walk all over you. Noxus will not be walked over. It's eat or get eaten, and no noxian will ever be bottom of the food chain."
"It's about to be feared?", Garen asked, and started at her for a long moment, before he continued, picking each word carefully. "Sometimes I think Demacia shouldn't have accepted the surrender. We should have wiped you out, all of you, and maybe then this disgusting ideology would have disappeared with Noxus and we could finally have some peace in Runeterra."
Her entire brain screamed to hurt him, to make him bleed, to make him suffer. She moved instinctively, before she could really think about it, and Garen caught the dagger without changing his expression. It had been aimed at his throat, and he held it there in one hand, eyeing it with a mild interest that had to be fake.
"I should kill you.", she snarled.
Garen shrugged and dropped the dagger on the armchair besides the door.
"You can certainly try. Maybe you will even succeed. But what then?", he asked, and she just stared at him with an open mouth. When it became apparent that Katarina wouldn't answer – how could she? – he turned and left the room.
The door falling shut sounded like a shot, a loud bang ripping though her body, and suddenly it was extremely silent. She collapsed backwards on her chair as if someone had knocked the wind out of her.
What if she succeeded? The peace treaty and the resumption of trade were tied to their engagement, an engagement that was supposed to be a marriage someday. There wasn't really a way out of it, unless she wanted to be the one responsible for her home country getting even worse than it already was. And this was without considering the additional leverage LeBlanc had about her.
You can always kill him in a few years, when Noxus has recovered far enough that they aren't dependent on Demacia anymore, a voice in her head whispered. As long as no one can prove it was you, LeBlanc won't care.
He is Lux' brother, another voice said. If you kill him, Lux won't leave you alive, and she won't give a single shit about proving you're guilty first.
But while she was staring on the door that Garen had thrown shut behind himself moments ago, she wondered if it would really be such a horrible way to die. Her inner eye presented her with images of Lux, in rage, coming at her with a charged laser and the intent to kill. She could feel herself getting thrown backwards against a tree again, the way her skin had burned up, and all she could think about was how Lux would at least kill her fast.
I'd never torture somebody, Lux had said yesterday, and the dark part of Katarina's mind wanted to take her up on the offer that certainly hadn't been one.
"Just kiss me, will you?", Katarina whispered with a rough voice, and there was this weird happiness from yesterday in her eyes as she looked up on Lux, who obliged within a fraction of a second. They were somewhere outside – Lux believed she was kneeling on wet grass – but it didn't seem important compared to how Katarina's lips felt on hers, how their bodies touched as if the belonged together, as if they had been created just to touch each other. Katarina's hands were running over her back, and every inch of skin she touched was burning in a good way.
Their legs were a tangled mess, and Lux sighed into the kiss blissful, using one hand to slowly push up Katarina's shirt and run her hand along her sides, tracing the black tattoos on her hips with her fingers, then moving on to her abs. Katarina groaned something her kiss that sounded faintly like a "Please", and Lux let go of her lips to kiss her neck instead. One of Katarina's hands moved to the back of her head and pulled her hair and Lux moved her lips to her pulse point. She scratched her teeth over it and the face Katarina made when she did was a damn sight.
"Please what?", Lux breathed against Katarina's skin, and the other woman shuddered.
Waking up felt like a slap in the face, and for a second Lux wanted to will herself back to sleep. She wasn't ready to let go of kissing Katarina yet and -
Wait. She had been dreaming of kissing – although making out with was probably the more correct term – Katarina Du Couteau. A woman. A woman who was engaged to her brother.
"Oh, shit.", she groaned.
Lux closed her eyes again, and the picture actually returned, for a second. It wasn't as vivid as her dream had been, but she could still see Katarina's face, could still feel her lips on hers. Her body was feeling too warm, her skin tingled and burned in a good way where the other woman had touched her. Well, there went every excuse that she had been making for staring at Katarina and for dancing with her, Lux thought frustrated.
'So, if you don't have a type in men, how do you know you're even attracted to them?', Quinn had asked years ago over a glass of wine neither of them was supposed to be drinking. 'Do you have a type in women?'
And the problem was, she had. She had been the type of eight-year-old girl that was jealous of her brother because one day he would marry a woman and she would marry a man. She had been the kid that didn't got how boys could be cute. The teenager to turn her head after pretty women at the street when nobody looked. And up to this moment, Lux had thought that she had accepted it, back then when Quinn had given her a raised eyebrow and a quick explanation on what a lesbian was. But she had never used the label for herself, because it didn't feel proper to do so. She was a woman from a noble family, after all.
'Do you have a type in women?'
Back then, she had stuttered something about women that were taller than her, and then refused to give any more details, but if Quinn would ask her this question again, she would simply point at Katarina. Well, she probably wouldn't because there was no way that Quinn wasn't going to judge her for it, but hypothetical speaking she would. Katarina was kind of the definition of her type in woman, after all. But to have a dream of her, a dream like this, crossed a line for Lux that she had never crossed.
It was okay to think in the privacy of her own mind, that certain people were good-looking. She had eyes after all, if somebody was pretty, she would notice it. But it had never gone further than admiring aesthetics for her. Everybody who she'd had a closer bond in the past had been her comrade, and honestly, she'd never felt like pursuing somebody who might die any second. And after that, her life had been filled with missions, with being a bodyguard and finally, with sitting in her father's manor and trying to get over last summer's failure.
And dreaming of Katarina like this – it felt foul to her, as if she had invaded the other women's privacy somewhat horrible.
Lux opened her eyes again, trying to shake of the feeling of having done something wrong. When that didn't work, she pushed herself up and turned around until she could see her face in the mirror besides the door. She forced herself to smile, and her reflection smiled back. Slowly, she felt better.
Well, if she wanted to avoid dreams like this in the future, all she had to do was avoid thinking about Katarina this much and finally get a grip on her feelings, before whatever this was developed into a full-blown crush.
Not thinking about somebody who you literally lived with wasn't as easy as Lux had made it sound in the morning, she realized a few hours later, when she sat on the table with her her father, her brother, Katarina and her family.
Something had happened yesterday, Lux thought, because both her brother and Katarina were acting odd. It wasn't really obvious, but they avoided looking at each other, and even though they sat side by side, they hadn't traded any words that hadn't been necessary. Chances were, they had fought.
If Garen had brought up politics again, Lux would have his hide later.
As much as Lux tried to keep attention to everything but Katarina, her eyes kept flickering back to the woman, her dream still fresh in the back of her mind. She'd never kissed somebody, she wondered – Stop it, she interrupted her own train of thoughts.
"- take up work again?"
Lux needed a second to realize that she had been addressed, and when she raised her gaze her father was looking at her, his brows furrowed.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What?", she gave back, and grabbed some bread. She didn't feel like eating with her family at all, usually she would just eat alone or with Garen.
"I asked when you plan to start working again. The doctor cleared you, didn't he?"
Oh, Lux thought. This was a display of strength in front of Katarina's family. Her father needed to show them that Lux would be back on duty soon enough, that she was just taking time off but that there was everything fine with her. Which, to be fair, was true, there was nothing physically wrong with her body, a magic healer and the family doctor had seen to this.
The only problem that prevailed was her amnesia, but she hadn't made any progress in that direction for nearly a year. Honestly, there had never been any progress at all, to the point where she had been checked for brain damage by a professional, but nobody had found anything. It was, as if random pieces of memory had magically disappeared from her mind, but she had been tested for quite a few curses that removed or memories as well, and none of the tests had come back positive either.
"Yeah, he did a few weeks ago.", Lux responded, while spreading butter on her bread. "I thought about going into personal protection, but I haven't quite decided yet."
Her father's eyebrow raised a miniscule amount. He wanted her to pursue a career as a diplomat, she knew as much. They'd had one or two discussions about her future already, and what her father thought were proper careers for noble women, but every time he brought it up Lux tended to remind him that it had been him who pushed her into the military in the first place. In her opinion, he didn't get to make her a child soldier, and then dictate how she would live her life after she had survived the war.
"That would be following the old traditions, wouldn't it?", Marcus Du Couteau asked, his face unreadable.
"It would."
The family Crownguard had been the protectors of Demacia's kings and queens for generations, and her father wanted Garen to follow in their footsteps. Garen, however, wanted to become a general, which left a space Lux would be more than happy to fill. It was a million times better than making small talk with wealthy people, which would be her main task as a diplomat.
"Isn't it rather uncommon for women to do so?"
Another sentence that had been thrown at her repeatedly, even though uncommon was a kinder choice of words than what she was used to. Lux smiled at him, showing a hint of teeth.
"Well, anybody who believes I'm not qualified for the job is welcome to duel me for it.", she said, her voice sharp. While Mr. Everguard hadn't had an idea who she was or what she had done in the war, Marcus DuCouteau had been a general, and she was entirely sure he knew exactly what she could do.
He blinked at her words, and she could have sworn that there was approval in Marcus' eyes, but just in that moment Katarina started coughing and when Garen tried to pat her on the back halfheartedly, she abruptly jerked away from him and knocked Talons teacup off the table.
The sound of shattering porcelain on the ground was hurting in Lux ears, and she fought back a flinch. Talons expression was carefully blank, Garen looked somewhat sad and Katarina stared at the cup on the ground horrified, as if she had seen a ghost.
"Everything okay?", Garen asked, seemingly hesitant, and Katarina stood up, still looking shellshocked.
"Everything okay.", she answered, and after staring at everybody as if someone would try to stop her, she turned around and left the room.
They spent the rest of the breakfast in silence. Not even her father looked at her – Lux would have expected it, he wouldn't be happy about her little statement earlier – because he was way too busy to watch Garen, who was avoiding his eyes like the plague.
Sona entered the room and quickly disposed of the shards, and there was a second where she froze in place and gave the Du Couteau's a long look, and Lux could have sworn that she was unusually tense when she replaced Talon's cup, but neither of them spoke a word.
Lux lasted a few more minutes, but the silence was suffocating, and she didn't even enjoy her family's company when they were in a good mood, so eventually, Lux fled the table. She debated going after Katarina, but she couldn't fathom a way to look in the other woman's eyes after her dream last night. Because Lux couldn't bear the idea of not doing anything, she went for a jog instead.
While she was running though the Crownguard estate's small park, she started thinking about the future for the first time in a while. Going into personal protection felt right - she had done it for a while after the war, and it had Been a satisfying job. At some point in the past, some people had started looking at her with fear, as if she would snap and kill somebody any second. It was utterly ridiculous, Lux had never even hurt somebody who hadn't been a soldier, but how could she possibly explain to the common civilian that killing enemy soldiers wasn't the same as lashing out on people whose opinion she disliked?
But as a bodyguard, she was supposed to be scary, she was supposed to send a shiver down people's spines when they looked at her. As a bodyguard of the crown, her past was like a medal she was able to wear with a feeling close to pride, because her body count was less of a flaw and more of a warning towards anybody who might mess with the Lightshield family. She didn't particularly like to be perceived as scary in the first place, but well, it wasn't as if she could change that now. Katarina was right, after all, everybody who had known her in the war had a certain opinion of her, and it wasn't going away anytime soon. She might as well use it for her own advantage.
Besides that, some part of her whispered that she would rather be feared by people then utterly disrespected.
Talon made no sound as he walked down the corridor. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, a dark suspicion that he had since Katarina had first mentioned that the Crownguard family had a servant called Sona. And then, she had just walked into the room to replace his cup, and for a second, he had seen the shock in her eyes. For a second, he had felt his own heart stop.
It had been years, but he would always remember those eyes, the expression of fear in them. How could he possibly forget them, when it had been Sona, and what happened to her, that had caused the rift between him and Cassiopeia in the first place? When it had been Talon, who had held Sona down with his own hands while Katarina cut out her tongue all those years ago? She should have died that night, died with the things she knew. Died with any chance he had ever had with Cassiopeia.
And yet, Talon needed to talk to the woman, needed to confirm that it was truly her. He knew he was clinging to an empty hope, because how many young mute women with blue hair called Sona could possibly exist on this planet, but he refused to accept the betrayal before he had heard it from the girl herself. Right now, there was the miniscule chance that she wasn't the same girl from back then. However, if it was truly her, that meant that Cassiopeia had betrayed them all, again. It meant that the secret he had sacrificed his relationship with her for was probably known to the Crownguard family anyways. It meant that fate had spat him in the face again, because really, a servant of a noble family in Demacia? It was the worst possible place Sona could have ended up at.
And if the Crownguard family knew Sona's secret, and they had still accepted the marriage proposal, then Katarina was on her way of getting married to somebody who knew she was getting blackmailed to do so. Talon didn't even want to think about what that said about Garen. He might have to kill him, and his father. If he was fast enough, he might get them all, in the night, before they woke up, and run for it with Katarina. How much time before Emilia LeBlanc would know? How much time, until she caught up with them?
This was, of course, if their servant was truly Sona Buvelle.
His hand rested on the door handle, and if he had been a lesser man, it would have been shaking. He took a deep breath. Behind this door was the kitchen, and in it, the blue haired servant named Sona. Behind this door was the truth.
Talon pushed it open.
Immediately he felt magic surround him, wrapping around him like a venomous snake, ready to bite. It was some kind of mental magic, a soft hum filling his ears, but over the years Talon had learned to sense danger. He could feel fear and anger in those strings of magic, and a foul darkness that reminded him of black rituals. The message in it was clear – if he dared to attack her, he would regret it bitterly.
Sona stood in the middle of the room, both hands raised like she was playing on an invisible piano, and close to her, the magic became visible as a faint blue shimmer. She had prepared a trap, and he had walked right into it. Slowly, Talon raised his hands to show her that he was unarmed.
"I just want to talk.", he said.
For a second, she just stared at him – it was amazing how kind and unbothered her face looked while Talon could feel her anger in her magic – then she gave him a smile. It didn't reach her eyes.
'Talk?'
Her voice rang directly in his mind, and Talon swallowed. He hadn't allowed her to form a telekinesis link, but she had overwritten his defenses without him even realizing. This was bad news. If she wanted, she could probably snap his mind before he could grab his weapon. If this went badly, he could end up in the hospital for weeks – he could even die.
The Sona he had known hadn't been a powerful mage. She had been able to play sounds in the air, and seemed to have a knack for telekinesis, but she had never really been special, just another face in the crowd, a child to talented to be normal, and to normal to be truly special. Cassiopeia must have pitied her for it back then.
But the piece of magic that surrounded him wasn't particularly powerful in itself. Mind magic didn't need to be powerful, because the brain was such a fragile thing. Cracking somebody mind once you were in was as easy as breaking a leaf off a tree. And Sona was in his mind right now, because he had walked right into her magic force field like a fool.
To be at the utter mercy of somebody who very likely hated him wasn't a pleasant thought.
"I once knew a girl with your name.", he started. "She was friends with the woman who I currently work for. I was under the impression she died years ago, until I met you this evening. You have certain similarities to her that I couldn't overlook."
Sona's expression was unreadable, and for a second, she didn't move, then she lowered her hands slowly.
'And now you want to know if I am said girl?', she finally asked. Talon nodded.
'You say you were under the impression she died? What happened?'
"She was at the wrong place, at the wrong time. She acquired knowledge she shouldn't have acquired and was supposed to be killed for it. I thought we left her to die."
What kind of game was Sona playing? Either she wasn't Sona Buvelle, and trying to gather as much information as she could, or she was Sona Buvelle and … what? Did she want to hear it from his mouth, what Katarina and he had done?
For what purpose?
'So, that was the reason? What I saw back then? When I look back, I can't help but feel as if it was rather personal.'
For a second, Talons mind was filled with a rather impressive number of curses.
So, it was really her? Why the hell hadn't she killed him already, then? If the roles would be reversed, if he had somebody at his mercy that had done to him what Katarina and Talon had done to Sona, the only reason they would be still alive was to beg for their death.
"It might have been for Katarina. It certainly wasn't for me."
Sona laughed, not though their mental connection that still latched at Talons magic without him being able to do a damn thing about it, but physically. It came out rough, distorted, inhuman. He had never heard somebody laugh without a tongue, the sound coming from her bare throat. It would probably haunt him, if he would survive the next few minutes.
'Oh, I believe you that it wasn't personal. There is no way I was ever important enough for you to upset Cassiopeia. Not that it would have made any difference in the end, right?', Sona eventually said, and Talon clenched his fists, because Sona was so utterly painfully right. Nothing he did had ever made a difference.
Cassiopeia wasn't his to court, wasn't his to marry. She was a noble and he was an adoptee from the streets who should be grateful that the DuCouteau clan had granted him a place in this world. None of their feelings had ever mattered, not if they hadn't been a proper match from the start. Marcus DuCouteau granted his children certain liberties in the choice of their partners, sure, but people like Talon still were off-limits.
Cutting out Cassiopeia's best friend's tongue and leaving her to die close to the border certainly hadn't made their relationship any better, but well, there hadn't been anything to lose in the first place, hadn't there? Still, Sona was right. If Talon had had any choice in the matter, he'd never have harmed her this way, not while Cassiopeia was aware of it. He had lost to much already.
"I'll have you know that the order to kill you came from Emilia LeBlanc. You know exactly that the DuCouteau Clan had no choice but to obey her given the circumstances you witnessed.", he forced out. The look on Sona's face was almost pity. Oh, the irony.
'And that hasn't changed, I take it?'
"I doubt we would be having this conversation if it had."
Which was right, the single reason they were in Demacia was that Katarina hadn't been given a right to veto her future spouse.
'Which leads me back to my original question – what do you want to talk about? Did you simply wanted to confirm that I am in fact the girl you crippled eight years ago? Are you here to finish the job?'
Sona moved a single finger, tugged on a single string, and Talon felt pain shoot though his head, sharp like a blade. The message was clear – if he should try to kill her, she would turn his brain into puree.
"I'm not.", he gasped, holding his head. "I just want to know something. The Crownguards – did you tell them about Soreana?"
Sona lowered her hands and he felt the pain fade, slowly.
'If this is what you're worrying about – I haven't, and I won't. And -', she smiled at him and it didn't reach her eyes, 'don't bother asking why.'
"But I don't understand -", he started, but then, anger flooded the magic, and she made a step closer to him, raised a finger and put it on his lips.
'You know, I always wondered how you felt back then, holding me down, tying me up with those pretty little strings you use to call back your throwing stars. I wondered if it felt powerful, to look at somebody who is so utterly at your mercy. I wondered what kind of thoughts are running though someone's mind when they decide to hurt somebody who can't fight back. I'm sure you can see the irony in this situation?'
In this moment, Talon realized that if Sona was anything like Katarina and him – and how could she not, she was a child of the noxian streets, just like him – she would kill him here and now. For revenge, for satisfaction or simply to avoid any kind of future confrontation.
'You should be glad that I am a better person than you.', she sounded angrier by the minute. 'Get out of here immediately, or I might try to find out what exactly you felt while ignoring my begging back then.'
And with that Talon felt the connection to his brain snap, and he was thrown backwards. The door in front of him closed with a bang and while he took a shuddering breath, he slowly realized what had just happened.
Sona Buvelle lived, had somehow ended up as a servant of the Crownguard family, had learned to use magical traps and had nearly turned his brain into literal pudding after he had walked right into her net like a fool.
Sona Buvelle had also, for some reason, kept their secret and left him alive because she wanted to be a good person.
He needed to warn Katarina to check rooms for magical traps before entering them, he thought, because if this was what Sona was willing to do to someone who had just been following orders, there was no way Katarina would survive an encounter like this.