Katarina woke up with throbbing nails in her skull and a mouth drier than the Shurima Desert. Clutching her temple, she dragged herself up and stumbled away from her bedroom, clothed in the same garments from last night, and coming downstairs, she found Talon and Riven chatting in the kitchen with the smell of brewing coffee in the air. The scene made something in Katarina's heart ache in a way that was worse than the pain in her head. They looked content. Happy. Katarina wanted to hurl, and bet she looked like it too. Wasn't fair that Riven could shake off a hangover when she herself couldn't. She should have refused the bottle.

"Did you both fuck last night?" She demanded as she halted in the doorway, halting their conversation.

"Love you too, Kat," Talon replied, the least put out. The cook and servant boy kept their gaze elsewhere, pretending not to hear their noble lady swear. Talon gestured. "Have a seat. I'm afraid the coffee's just for me and her. Don't argue. You'll be taking only water for today."

"For the record, he tried," Riven said. She cleared her throat. "The fucking I mean."

Talon shrugged without shame. "What can I say? Blondes, brunettes, and redheads are aplenty, but she's the first snow angel I ever saw."

Riven pursed her lips as she processed that, eyes filled with mirth. "He's still trying," she amended. She turned in her seat and looked at Talon. "Flattery can only get you so far. Do you have a gift for me?"

"How about a kiss?"

"Sorry, no dice."

"You're sure? I'm pretty good at them if I say so myself."

"I think I'll need a second opinion."

Katarina pulled herself a chair and slumped into it. Placing her arms on the table and her forehead on her arms, she continued to listen to the two flirt and banter with each other.

This is what Father might have been like, when Mother was still alive, she thought. Able to joke. Able to grin. He wouldn't be wearing mourning black all the time, and he would see me and ruffle my hair and ask if his little princess had forgotten to say good morning.

She closed her eyes.

"Kat?"

"It's alright. She could use the rest," Talon said, his voice drifting from afar. "Don't worry about it."

One Week Ago

Harold closed the door behind him, pulled his chair out and sat down. Steepling his hands, he stared at the person seated opposite him. He'd dealt with a lot of tough customers in his time as a public servant, and before that as an army sergeant, but this, this was something completely new to him. A novel experience in fact. "Well," he said stiffly, projecting authority and mustering judgemental anger. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Katarina shrugged. "I'm sorry, but if worse comes to worse, I'd do it again?"

"That's not what I wanted to hear." Note of reproach. That's the trick. Got to get them ashamed. The common thief and run-of-the-mill murderer have already justified their actions before they were even caught. Have to punch holes in their reasons. "I understand that they both harassed you, but all the witnesses tell me you attacked first. He reached for your shoulder." Harold shrugged. "You overreacted. He and his friend wouldn't have hit you. In that place, with all those customers around, all he could do was talk and talk, and all of that's just him losing hot air and trying to stir up some shit. The fault's yours, and you should consider yourself lucky that they're both still going to be able to live to see tomorrow."

Katarina blinked. "Gee, is this how you talk to your own daughters?" She quivered her lips and pouted. "Yes, Father. I really have been a most wicked child, but I have seen the errors of my ways. Truly. Let me confess, for I've sinned!"

Harold flinched, and knew that was a point to her. "Which leaves us the question as to who you happen to be, lassie. I know you're from Noxus, but I don't know any more than that."

"Oh? And what makes you think that I am one of those backward warmongers?"

"The statements of the witnesses for one. Apparently one of the men called you a Noxian."

"And we all know that if they say something it has to be right."

"That will be up to the courts' decision." Harold waved at her face. "There's also the matter of the red hair."

"You're telling me you can't find a Demacian with red hair? Shame on you."

"Then what about the contraption in your boot?"

"Something to protect myself with. The difference in the time required between using it and drawing a blade could be the difference between myself coming home alive and me being raped and left for dead in a ditch. You're going to charge me for thinking of my own safety, captain?"

"You're putting words in my mouth. Be that as it may," Harold continued, pushing on. "I-"

The door behind him opened.

"Harold, may I have a word with you?"

It was his direct superior. The commander.

Harold stood up, looked carefully at Katarina, who met his gaze impudently, and turned to walk past the commander and outside.

"This will take just a minute, miss," the commander said stiffly. "My apologies." He closed the door. "Harold. Step over here please."

"What's going on?"

The commander sighed, glancing around as other people bustled around them in the hallway. He waited a few seconds till people were out of earshot before he lowered his voice. Harold immediately didn't like where this was going. "I'm afraid you're going to have to turn her loose," the commander eventually said. "Word from upstairs. From the top floor, figuratively speaking."

"Who is she?"

"She's a visitor, and she has diplomatic immunity. That's all that they'll tell me I'm afraid. The rest is just speculation, which even if correct, won't be confirmed or denied." He clapped Harold on the shoulder and gave a nod towards the door to the interrogation room. "There's a carriage waiting for her outside. One of the men told me it has the Crownguard emblem on its door. Now, I know that you have official procedures to go through, but just this once, don't worry about paperwork. The whole thing's going to be swept under the mat. Charges dropped and everything. Just get her out of those cuffs, apologize, and let her be on her way."

"Sure thing sir."

"Good man." Harold watched him walk away, and then he turned around and went back into the room.

Katarina stood up as he entered. She held her arms and irons out, beckoning, a knowing gleam in her eye. "I suppose he told you what you needed to know?"

Harold stared at her, sighed, and got out his key. "I just have one more question before I let you out," he said as he unlocked the shackles.

"I'm listening."

"Both of the men you assaulted in that building are still alive. With missing teeth, broken bones and whatnot, but alive nonetheless." He looked at her closely as he picked his next words. "You could have killed them?"

"Maybe," Katarina replied as she massaged her wrists.

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't feel like attending another funeral," she answered. "Let's leave it at that."

"You're alright?"

Katarina lifted her head from her arms, meeting Talon's eyes. She looked around. She didn't remember hearing Riven leave, didn't remember everyone else leaving either. "How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes. Here." Talon took out a small phial, opened it and poured a mouth of a colourless liquid into her mug of water. "It's for the headaches," he explained.

Katarina drank, and grimaced. "If you're trying to kill me, you could give me something less sour." But as she said that the throbbing in her skull dimmed a little. Just a little, but now she thought she could probably last the day.

"Uhhuh." Talon leaned back and pocketed the phial. "Do you want to talk? Riven won't tell me what you two discussed last night."

"It's private," Katarina croaked. "Hush-hush stuff. For us girls only. Not for your ears."

Talon smiled thinly. "Fair enough." He stood up and threw on his jacket. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you later."

"You're heading off somewhere?"

"Just riding out to the Port District." Talon stopped at the doorway where Katarina had entered through. "Someone has some information for me. But he wants to tell me in person. Hush-hush stuff."

"Talon, please don't tell me you're still looking for Father?" She didn't know what was worse. The fact that she had already given up, or the fact that she didn't know what she'd do if Talon ever found him. What would he say when he saw the miserable state of their House now? How would she be able to explain to him about what happened to Cassie?

"I thought you didn't want to talk about that." Talon turned back to look at her, and his face was stony. He acted like this whenever someone brought up the subject of the man who took him in and gave him a life off the streets, away from the sewers, and beyond that of a gutter rat scrounging for leftovers.

"I know. I know." Katarina waved a hand at him. "Slip of the tongue. It's nothing."

Talon again smiled that humourless smile. "Right. I'm sure it is."

Katarina watched him leave, and then she looked around the kitchen, all alone.

The House of Du Couteau was rotting away. Slowly but surely. There were of course, ways to save it, ways to ensure its continual survival in this new age. But they required a sacrifice, one that Katarina was not prepared to give, perhaps never, and because of that, she may have just doomed her family's legacy.

She heard clicking sounds and heavy panting coming from the doorway. Then, he entered, tail wagging and tongue lolling out. He ran up to her, padded around in a circle till his back was facing her before he planted his rump on the floor with his head held high.

Katarina smiled. "Well, at least you'll never leave me, right Jager?" she asked as she laid a hand on her father's last hound, rubbing his head and scratching his ears.

Jager barked. He shrugged her hand off, turned around and stood up on his hind legs, placing his paws on the table. Katarina pushed her mug away, turned in her chair, grabbed him below his armpits and steered him to move his paws off and onto her knees.

"You know you remind me of someone," Katarina murmured, watching as he nosed her shirt, sniffing. He himself smelt wet and musty. His pelt was coated with fresh snow. "Do you want to know who?"

Jager glanced up at her, opened his mouth, and yawned.

Katarina scowled. "I'll take that as a no then."