Desperate Times
a League of Legends fanfic
Chapter 2: Imprisoned
It was all pain and darkness. Garen could feel nothing else as his captors tried to interogate him. They beat him, they starved him, they viewed him as the worst thing that could ever walk Runeterra; a Traitor.
He had been locked away in this dungeon for what felt like an eternity, though in truth no more than two weeks had passed. In that time, no one had come for him, no on but the jailers. Not his sister Luxxana, not the Price, not even his friend Xin Zhao had come. In truth, Garen was glad; none of them should see him like this, reduced to a beaten, broken man, where once had stood the pride of the city-state.
As Garen lay, slumped against the corner of his small cell, his mind clouded over by pain he had never imagioned possible, he tried to think. He tried to puzzle out the mystery of the Black Rose badge that had damned him to this cell. The Sergeant who had arrested him had said that the badge identified members of a cult, but that was absurd, there were no cults in Damacia, were there?
Garen let out a small curse. The Dauntless Vanguard, and later his jailers, had been pretty rough on him, beating him into submition and possibly breaking a few bones. The pain had still not lessened, if anything, it had only grown. Coupled with the numbing shock of being accused of treason, it was almost too much for him to bear.
Still, he was the Might of Demacia, damnit! He would not be beaten by some invisible hand that had framed him with treason and who knew what else. He would find a way to clear his name, surely Jarvan would lissen to him if he apealed to him directly. Surely Lux could find something to clear his name. Yes, he would clear his name, then he would make whoever had caused this mess pay.
As he lay there, gathering his convictions, a voice echoed from the hallway that caused him to stop dead. "I have orders to move the traitor to a different cell," A female voice said, "something about keeping him fully secure or something."
Garen's blood was replaced by ice water, it can't be... not her...
"why wasn't I informed of this before hand?" asked the guard stationed outside Garen's cell.
"How the hell should I know? since when do they tell us grunts anything? Anyway, let's get him moving."
Please let it be my imagionation...
"Hold on, who was it that told you to move him? I'm gonna need to talk to someone about this later."
"umm..."
Don't let it be her...
"What? just tell me. Come to think of it, who are you? I've never seen you around before."
"God I hate smart guards," there was a small rasp of metal and a sudden gasp. "They always make a simple plan go bloody" A moment later the sound of a body slumping down the wall reached Garen's ears, followed by a scraping noise that could only be a body being dragged across the floor.
There was a solid thunk as a key was inserted into the cell door and turned. The door swung open, spilling torchlight into the black cell. Squinting his eyes against the sudden intrusion, Garen turned his head painfully to veiw the person standing in the doorway.
She wore the uniform of a Demacian guard, but instead of a longsword sheathed at her hip, there were a pair of wickedly shaped shortswords. There were small spots of blood scattered across her chest and face, presumably from the guard who had just died. And her face, at once the most beautiful and most horrifying sight that Garen had ever seen. it was hard and strong with beautiful angles and beautiful but extremly cold green eyes, and a long scar across her left eye.
"Well, well. You look like shit." said Katarina Du Couteau, "well let's get you out of here, I have some questions for you."