Talon wasn't sure if Quinn said anything about Dulren, he imagined she would've. Demacians were not the type to just let a miserable scrote rot and be forgotten. Talon lay in his bed, his chest bandaged up and minor lacerations treated. Turns out Dulren had sharpened that tire iron and punctured Talon's flesh. He'd been pretty damn lucky he'd not gone any deeper and into his lung.

He shifted in bed, wincing as the bandages pulled at his skin. The wound Dulren had left wasn't the worst he'd ever had, but it still hurt. He sighed and rolled over again, trying to find a position that didn't aggravate his injury. Talon was sick of sleeping by now. Being stuck in his room for nearly an entire day. Quinn and Caleb must've also been in disgrace, as he'd not heard them moving about the house below him. Throughout the early morning he knew his foster parents had come in occasionally, small fleeting visits to make sure he was breathing maybe.

They wouldn't speak to him.

Talon began to worry what Quinn had said to them while he was out of earshot.

The tomb-like silence was grating now. He felt himself tick, wanting to get up and just ask them what they planned to do to him as punishment for running away. Punishment for running from that stupid prat, and for the stupid prat getting himself killed. Quinn said he'd been torn apart, the way she had looked at him moments later. She thought he did it. He didn't do it…Did he wish he had?

No.

Talon turned again, grunting in slight pain. That was not his life now, there was no need to kill to survive. To keep himself one step ahead, or keep himself fed. Dulren had been a pest, at worst. He didn't need to die…He did not need to die.

His attic door opened, Talon jumped. As Tarian approached, holding a plate with a thick egg sandwich and a glass of water.

"Ah…You're awake, Talon. How's…How's your chest feeling?" His foster father asked. Tarian's voice was careful, measured, he was trying not to say the wrong thing. Speaking how he'd spoken to him in the past. When he'd gotten into fights with Dulren, or gotten into a verbal disagreement with a neighbor.

Talon took a few moments to respond. Too busy reading Tarian's face, trying to get anything out of how he carried himself. Anything that gave away what was going to be happening. He got nothing, so he spoke. "Hurts…" He managed. "But only when I move a bit."

Tarian nodded, setting the plate down. "I thought you might be hungry. I know how you like chopped boiled egg on thick bread." Talon stared at the sandwich, he felt his stomach growl with growing hunger. The smell of eggs and melted butter was making him ravenous. But guilt steadied him.

"Dad? Did Quinn-...Did she tell you what she and Caleb saw?" Talon asked.

Tarian sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside the bed. "She did, Talon. She told us about that boy. I need to understand what happened. We need to know that you're safe—that we're all safe right now."

"What do you mean?" The teenager asked. "I didn't… I didn't do it. I swear, I didn't kill him! Dad- He was chasing me. With a weapon, he did this to me!" Talon cried, gesturing at his ribs angrily. A little too much as he stopped to wince, prompting Tarian to coax him back to laying in against the pillows. "I didn't…Didn't even hurt him…" Talon wheezed a final time.

"I believe you-"

Talon swallowed, eyes wide with so much previous hurt. He was not a liar. His foster-father believed him. "T-thank you, Dad…I- I swear…It's all a big nightmare. If he'd not followed me-!"
"But I need you to tell me everything that happened, Talon. From the beginning, leaving our home. Tell me everything…After you've eaten." He gestured to the plate, with a small smile. Talon finally reached for the sandwich, his hunger winning out against his anxiety.

As a boy, Talon's wounds didn't close easily. A lack of shelter, food, and general care led to his wounds becoming scarred and often infected. He'd find himself desperately stealing bottles of spirit from shops, just to try and clean his wounds. Wrapping the bloody gashes in scraps of his own dirty clothes.

Talon spent the next few mornings with his shirt off, examining his ribs. The deep, bloody hole left by Dulren's tire iron was slowly shrinking, the torn skin knitting itself back together. His body was littered with scars, this would no doubt be a new one. But one that healed with little stubbornness. Removing his bandages often brought the ire of Monarri and Tarian.

"Talon, you need to keep that covered," Monarri scolded him one morning when she found him hunched over, fingers prodding at the wound. "You don't want it getting infected, do you? Do you remember how long we spent cleaning your wounds when you were eight?-"

"Yes, I don't need the reminder that I was a sad, filthy orphan," Talon muttered, rolling his eyes at his own reflection. He'd not realized how harshly he'd spoken until his foster mother was already approaching him. Talon tensed, expecting another scolding.

"Talon, I'm not trying to remind you of those times to hurt you. I worry, that's all…" She said softly. "Quinn is outside, she thinks you're avoiding her."

"I couldn't walk much with a hole in my chest, Mum. Besides, she's the one avoiding me. She thinks-..." He trailed off.

His foster mother gestured to the bed, Talon slumped down onto it in a frustrated huff. "Quinn doesn't think anything, Talon," She started. "You know what she witnessed. It…Frightened her. She's a child, Caleb is….I'm sure you'd be terrified if you found such a thing."

Talon tried hard to remember the first time he'd seen an actual body. Death was something that stopped phasing him after the third time. Maybe when he was four or five he watched two staff members throw a sheet over the stiff, lifeless body of the girl who slept three beds down. She'd been sick for days, whatever killed her was spreading through the orphanage like wildfire.

The first death akin to what Quinn came across came much later. When he was seven, still new to his life as a street urchin. There lay a man with his skull completely smashed apart. Talon didn't know what this man had done, but the adults around him seemed to believe he'd had it coming. He'd squeezed himself between Reks and Sneaks, the two men watching as the cadaver was starting to be peeled out of the sewage and mud.

"Good fucking riddance," Said Reks.

"Kids will sleep a bit easier tonight," Sneaks had agreed.

Neither told Talon what he'd done, even when he tugged on one of their cloaks to ask.

He looked back to Monarri, who gave a sympathetic look seeing he'd looked so deep in thought. "You've seen much, haven't you?" she asked softly.

"...Yeah," The teenager replied. "...I need to tell you something. When I gave you that letter, when I was a kid–"
"I remember." She replied, allowing Talon to continue.

"People hunted me because I would steal things. I was eight years old. They didn't care, I was a pest to be dealt with. Like some wild dog that needed shooting!" Talon seethed. "...I remember the first one. The first man who came to kill me, he chased me for days."

The chase has pushed a young Talon to exhaustion. He'd finally concealed himself behind a dumpster and prayed this man would leave him alone. No such luck as he turned that same corner, snarling for him to just come out and he'd make it quick. His fingers brushed his small pocket knife, used mostly for picking locks. He'd never considered it as an actual weapon, he was too small. This man would easily overpower him. But when the man had passed by, never noticing the huddled up boy…The next thing Talon knew, he'd plunged his blade into the back of the man's unprotected calf. It was pretty easy once he fell down. To cut his throat open, he'd taken a life. But shown he was a survivor. Every one after that felt a little easier to dispatch.

"Talon, you know we agreed not to talk about them times. It's not safe to do so…" His foster mother said.

"But what if someone already knows! They'll think that because I killed three people who wanted me dead, that I killed some asshole who also hunted me down! But I didn't!"

She sighed and reached to gently stroke his hair. The motion always made him tense up a little, before he'd relaxed into it. "We agreed that what happened in Noxus would be forgotten," She told him mid stroke. "So long as you proved yourself a Demacian…And you have done, Talon. You wouldn't have hurt that boy, I know it. We'll get to the bottom of what happened before any wild rumors start to fly…Why don't you go outside for a bit? The fresh air might do you some good."

xxx

Three scoops of grain were chucked along the barn floor. Talon sat on a large hay bale, watching the hens come flocking in excitedly. The chickens were a small comfort to him, he liked to stroke them and talk to them when he was alone. They never judged him, or rejected him for his heritage. Talon had begun naming them all, feeling it unfair the two elderly barn cats had names yet the chickens did not.

Talon watched the hens peck and scratch at the ground. The soft sounds of their clucking and chirps helping him zone out and relax. Even forgetting the dull ache of his injury. He reached down to stroke one of the hens as she wandered close, her feathers warm and soft under his fingers. "Hey, Greedy" he murmured, his voice low. "You're living to your name well."

"Talon?" He heard called gently at the barn's entrance. Quinn slowly walked over, her own arms had patches covering her scrapes and injuries. "Mum said you'd be here…"

He said nothing, turning away not even wanting to look at her. But Quinn stayed and approached closer. "Can I sit with you?"

"...It's not my barn, do what you want." Was Talon's mutter. She sat close by, but left a good meter of distance between herself and him on the hay bale. Neither spoke for a good while. The silence between them was unsettling and tense.

Quinn shifted slightly, drawing her knees up to her chest as she watched the hens. "I… I'm sorry," she said quietly, after some time. "For everything. For what happened, and for how I… how I acted."

Talon's hand stilled on Greedy's feathers, but he didn't respond, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground.

"I was scared, Talon. When we found Dulren, and then… when I saw you covered in blood, I didn't know what to think. I didn't want to believe you could have… done something like that, but you can't deny you've said some disturbing things about wanting to–"

Talon put the chicken in his lap down onto the floor. Then turned to glare at her. "I was a scared kid! I was eight years old! All I knew was sticking a knife in someone if they threatened me, you'd be in the same mindset if you lived through what I did as a kid! Actually, no. You wouldn't last a day in Noxus!" He seethed.

Quinn felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She'd never seen Talon this upset, this raw. He'd not spoken to her this cruely in a very long time, if ever. His old attitude came from grumpiness and a lack of socialization their mother always said. So it'd been easier to forgive angry outbursts five years ago. But her upset gave way to realization, at what exactly her foster brother just said. "Talon…I– Are you saying you have killed someone before?"

He turned away. Now it was his turn to pull his knees to his chest. "...I don't know what you'd call them here. I called them hunters, relentless killers. Didn't call how old you were …Or what your situation was. They'd been paid and you were their target."

"...Assassin?" Quinn asked quietly.

Talon grunted a little. "Assassins are good, they'd not stupidly walk into a dark alley. Expecting a street rat not to fight back. I don't regret it, so judge me all you damn want."

Quinn felt her heart drop at Talon's admission. Her brother, who she'd grown up into a young adultescent with, was a murderer. She grappled with the thought; it was survival for him. But…Lives taken by someone so young. And he'd just…Hidden it for five years from her, her family. "I'm not going to hate you for surviving. I couldn't–"

"I meant it." Talon suddenly interrupted her. Making her pause and take a look of confusion and wariness. "I meant when I promised I'd never hurt you or Caleb. Mum or Dad. I meant it." He gently reached a hand, putting it on her arm. She was shaking slightly as much as both teenagers wanted to pretend she wasn't. "Family."

"I know." Quinn finally whispered. Giving his hand a small squeeze. "Does…Does Mum–"

"I never told her but I wouldn't put it past her to already know," Talon said with a sad shrug. "Ranger's intuition, no?" He smiled a little at the last part. Making his sister smile too.

Quinn couldn't stop herself, and pulled him into a tight hug. Her face burying into the fabric of his soft hoodie. "The past is the past. You don't need to dig it up…" She murmured into it. "You're my brother. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing…I'm not going to turn you away for protecting yourself as a kid."

"More you're stuck with me for life. The evil Noxian stray!" Talon said, pushing her playfully.

She could see his eyes were glistening with unshed tears, which he'd never let fall in front of anyone. But she met his gesture with her own, shoving him off the hay bale. "I don't see any Noxians, only my doofus brother who can't sweep up Dad's smithy properly!"

"You take that back!" Talon laughed and went to get up to grapple with her. The two teenagers tussled on the floor, hay and left over chicken seed scattered about. Only ending when Talon got his sister into a headlock, grinning wickedly as he hissed "Submit! Submit!"

His sister was wily though, aiming a good backwards kick where it counted. Making him swear loudly and let her go as he wheezed and continued to swear. "No fair-"

"It was plenty fair, doofus." Quinn smiled. "Quit being a baby, I didn't hit you that hard!" She did however help him up, as he gave a final glare and wheeze. Before they both went inside. "I win then?" "Shut up."

xxx

They tried returning to some sense of normality once Talon's wound healed.

But word had gotten out despite Demacian authorities best efforts to investigate a young teenager's disappearance and eventual suspicious death. Quinn had been practicing with a crossbow in a training ground when she saw two people in robes having a heated argument with her mother. She frowned and went to approach, but their discussion ended as quickly as it began.

One of them turned and looked at her, with what Quinn could only describe with a look of pure malice.