WARNING: This fanfic contains mature themes and is not intended for all audiences. Reading discretion is advised.
It was important to remember that the sense of victory is always a fleeting moment, and it was an emotion that the famed crimson haired assassin, Katarina constantly reminded herself. Today’s victory on the Fields of Justice was the same; while her former teammates reveled and congratulated each other and their respective summoner’s, Katarina merely scorned them. Of course they couldn’t see the fact that they won by sheer blind luck, and luck was not a factor in any assassin’s traits. Skill, efficiency, and deadly prowess were all that mattered. Sheathing her blades, she ignored her teammate’s calls for an after party celebration; perhaps tasting Gragas’s newest concoction and drinking the night away. The assassin merely scoffed and strode past them down dark hallway, more amused by their invitation than flattered. To her, social gatherings were pointless and monotonous. She would much rather do something more productive; perhaps training, or if she was lucky, Noxian High Command would have another mission for her. It had been so long since her last outing, a thrilling assignment on a rogue Zuan scientist. He put up a subpar fight but his death was oh so gratifying, he never even knew he was dead. The thought of it brought a small chill to her spine. Perhaps it was time to try and find another assignment, the assassin thought to herself as she strode down the halls of the Institute of War. But the thought would have to wait as the assassin suddenly stopped at an intersection in the hallway, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
“Kat?” came a gruff but stoic voice from around the corner.
The assassin flinched at the name. It was a nickname she was not proud of and the sound of it still caused an involuntary twitch of annoyance. Not even her own father called her that. But for this instance, she let an exception, like she always did.
“Of course, now what do you want?” she replied sternly. Her eyes darted back down the hallway, keeping a constant vigil to ensure that no one would intrude on their conversation. No doubt the figure around the corner was doing the same.
“Well…I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight,” Said the voice hesitantly.
The renowned assassin couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the odd request. It was rare for him to take the initiative, much less actually invite her to dinner. And although she hated social gatherings, in this case, she would make an exception, like she always did.
“Fine…but there better be good wine.” The assassin replied likewise, although perhaps with a softer expression. And although they couldn’t see each other, she could already tell that the stoic figure was grinning like a schoolboy.
“Fantastic…I’ll see you tonight then.” came the voice again, as the unmistakable sound of armored boots began to echo down the hall away from their brief encounter.
The assassin merely shook her head, smirking to herself at his brazen persona. The man wouldn’t know stealth if he looked it up it in the dictionary. Nevertheless, the ruthless assassin found herself somewhat drawn to that aspect of him. While she was required to plot and lurk in the shadows, he could rush forward with sword and banner in hand; a perfect foil for her.
She took her leave as well, continuing on down the dark hallway still remembering the dinner plans. Although she hated social gatherings, and she may have not been the most feminine of women, she was still in fact a girl. Even she wanted to be treated like a princess every once in a while, although she would never admit it. The assassin let out a long sigh as she suddenly realized that she would have to come up with a new disguise again. Makeup was effective in covering up her distinctive scar, but her hair was always a problem to deal with. There have been multiple calls for her to simply cut it, from both her superiors and even herself at times. She silenced them all with her trademark death glares but for some reason she never did cut her hair, for what reason, even she didn’t know. But something new suddenly caught her attention; the sound of flapping wings. The crimson haired assassin looked up to see a black feathered beast flying towards her. To call such a vile and disturbing beast a crow would be an insult to nature. It’s four red eyes gleamed at Katarina, and the pseudo-crow let loose a single shriek before turning back the way it came. Katarina knew what it meant, her eyes narrowing at the thought of it.
A personal summons.
She cleared her thoughts and proceeded down the corridor with a quickened pace, passing by both summoners and other league champions as she made her way to the ambassadorial offices of the Institute of War. These were where the dignitaries and ambassadors of the City-States resided. Queen Ashe was probably the most famous for having her own quarters now, drawing much ire and jealously from other league champions who were secluded to less lavishly styled rooms, not that she cared or minded. Eventually she reached her destination, a set of massive black stained oak doors. She didn’t bother to knock as she strode inside the dimly lit room and immediately stood at attention. The room was decorated with a variety of maps and banners of Noxus, with black candles illuminating the room. The floor was littered with the discarded feathers of the crow beast, which now snuggly rested upon the shoulder of its owner, Swain.
“Efficient as always…I’m in need of your services again.” The Grand General of Noxus exclaimed while seated at a small table, his cane lying across his lap as he calmly poured himself a cup of tea. The crimson haired assassin stared at the tea, no matter how often Katarina made these visits; the general never did take off his scarf to drink it.
“I thought we were done with these sessions.” The assassin replied annoyingly at the seated league champion. Ever since Swain seized power in Noxus the famed assassin reported directly to the enigmatic crippled tactician. The masked man grabbed his cane and struggled to his feet, the crow flapping wildly to maintain its balance as he proceeded to walk over to the crimson haired assassin.
“I’d like to add a few finishing touches to my painting. I hope you remember the pose from last time.” The league champion said in his signature raspy voice as he limped past her to a small corner of the room where an easel stood, set upon it was a fairly large canvas painting.
Although Katarina couldn’t see what the painting was, she was rather happy she couldn’t. But she knew what she had to do; this wasn’t the first time she had to do this act. She began to slowly remove her many swords and many knives laying them upon the desk where the tea was settled. Next came the boots which she kicked off forcefully and placed her jacket upon the chair. The next part she always hated, not because she had to do it in front of him but because it left her so exposed. After unlacing a few knots her corset, the armoed piece effortlessly falls off and is placed upon the table alongside the swords and weapons. The famed assassin then slid down her black leather tight fitting leggings, stepping out of the clothing and placing it upon the table, leaving the crimson haired woman completely exposed. She hated this feeling, the feeling for being naked, unarmed and unarmored; but it was for a purpose. She strode to the opposite side of the room, the cold air her causing her skin to prickle, where a deep red satin curtain hung from the ceiling. The assassin wrapped herself in the cloth, it hung loosely form her body, barely covering anything at all while arching her back and placing a hand on her hip, retaking her previous stance from before with her back facing the easel.
“Good, now hold that position.” The raspy voice ordered as the tactician began to work upon his painting.
Katarina didn’t respond but merely held her pose as the Noxian general painted her. It was an odd predicament, but something that came out of necessity. When Swain became the de-facto leader of Noxus he was granted information that wasn’t readily available, especially information regarding General Du Coteau disappearance, Katarina’s father. She failed to find any clues to his whereabouts until the crippled tactician offered her a deal. It appeared that the enigmatic grand general had a hobby of painting and in exchange for information about her father’s disappearance; she would have to pose for him. Normally, the famed assassin would have outright refused, the thought of a nude portrait of her hanging in some noble’s mansion revolted her; but this was the only lead she had. But she did make one stipulation; she would be painted from behind, so that she couldn’t be identified. And for the last few weeks Katarina had been making regular visits to Swain’s quarters, each time disrobing in front of the Grand General and posing for him in the same fashion as she was doing now, and each time the tactician would add few new details to his painting. But she could never tell whether her artist ever took some sick pleasure in painting her. On the occasion she did glance over her shoulder to spy on the painter, all she could tell from his expression was a sort of, as best as she could put it, intent disinterest, as if he was merely doing a chore. The sessions would last hours, which was no problem for the assassin. Physically fit, standing still for prolonged periods of time was an essential skill for her. Hours did pass and eventually the sound of a paintbrush being set down caught the assassin’s attention. Evidently, today’s session was over. Relieved, she separated herself from the cloth and strode towards her clothes with pride; it was always important to keep appearances. As she began to redress herself, again in full view of the grand general, she couldn’t help but ask.
“Is it finally done?” she said without turning to him, all the while pulling on her leggings and various belts and knives.
“For now at least...” came a short raspy reply, words that she was hoping not to hear. That could only mean more sessions and all the while she would still be without the information. But she would play his game for now. An assassin’s greatest trait was always patience. For now all she could do was wait for the painting to be finished. At least he never offered to show it to her, she wouldn’t know how to react if she did see it.
“I also have a mission for you tonight as well so I hope you didn’t have any dinner plans.” The general said as-a-matter of factly. The assassin couldn’t help but flinch as she put on her corset. It was only a momentary lapse, but she quickly recovered her composure as she continued to dress. Fully dressed with her blades snuggly sheathed she turned to face her Grand General.
“Of course not, my blades are always ready for Noxus.” She replied firmly. The crippled tactician merely regarded her with an amused look as he handed her a small brown scroll. Taking it, the assassin finally took her leave from Swain’s office as she clutched the piece of paper in her hand. It would only be a matter of time before she would be summoned again, but for now she would have to endure it. She would always be loyal to Noxus, no matter what anyone would say or do to her, she would always be loyal.
WARNING: This fanfic contains mature themes and is not intended for all audiences. Reading discretion is advised.
Anyone can call themselves an assassin. Grab a sharp metal object, a target you wish dead, and you would no doubt find your name and likeness plastered on wanted posters throughout every major city state throughout Valoran. But anyone could this, in reality it’s quite a simple feat. But a master assassin is something to be truly in awe of; feats that would put masters to shame, cunning that could make the wiliest of tricksters look like child play’s, and skills that could inspire fear in whole nations. One such skill is the art of infiltration, a skill currently being used by the famed and feared Sinister Blade of Noxus, Katarina.
The search for her father had taken her to an unlikely source and came as a surprise even to her; an estate out in the country, three days ride from the city. Normally it wouldn’t have drawn any significant attention, but the owner of this estate was of interesting note. A country baron, who for some reason or another had decided to invest in the business of information brokering, a profitable if not dangerous endeavor. The reason as to why escaped her but it did present a unique opportunity; Information in regards to the whereabouts of her missing father, General Du Couteau.
It had been two days now since the famed assassin had infiltrated the estate. She had managed to gain entry as a working maid after dyeing her hair pale silver and covering her scar to hide her identity. She had been lucky, apparently the estate had been looking for servants as well, and the head maid barely even tested her aptitude before hiring her. It was curious at first but she soon learned that she wasn’t hired merely for service but rather appearance as well. The traditional maid uniform that was provided to her, complete with headband and cuffs, was entirely too revealing; the skirt’s length barely even covered her backside and the amount of cleavage exposed alone was by far too gratuitous, coupled with the open navel design, it barely left anything to the imagination. It would have put Nidalee’s own risqué outfit to shame. She would have uttered her disapproval but to her realization, this was the standard uniform for all of the servants, and apparently all of the servants were female.
'So it’s one of those kinds of nobles.' the assassin first thought to herself as she was assigned her duties, mostly light menial tasks such as dusting and mopping.
She didn’t make an effort to become acquainted with the other servants but she did notice how their behavior was somewhat subdued. They wore the same outfit as her, and appeared similar in age, if not younger. And most always either kept their eyes on their work or at their feet. This was most likely the result of the rule of Baron Uvulon Huac.
For two days Katarina had monitered the baron by observing his hobbies, disposition, and routine and only word, she summarized, was able to describe him; despicable.
The baron himself was surprisingly young for his age, and with his above average looks, dark hair, and seemingly pleasant personality one might have mistaken him for a rather amicable gentleman. But behind this façade he was a depraved man who blatantly abused his power. He rose early in the morning to bathe, usually with the assistance of a few unlucky maids, and then enjoy a freshly prepared elaborate breakfast whereupon he would voice his extreme dissatisfaction with the meal and force the maids to prepare a new one, seemingly for no reason whatsoever. Afterwards he would disappear for hours at a time, perhaps out hunting or attend to affairs in his private office, and then return late in the evening where a meal that took hours to prepare was hand served to him, where he would then insult the maids harshly again and retire to his room to brood over his work. Then of course there were the ‘meetings’ that the Baron would have in his private bedroom with any maid that caught his fancy for the day. And each time the poor girl came out some hours later or even the next morning with her uniform and hair disheveled and a little less hope in her eyes. And to Katarina’s own amazement, the girl would simply fix her clothes and hair and resume her duties as if nothing strange had happened.
“This place is more of a madhouse if not a prison.” Katarina muttered to herself as she was assigned her latest duty, polishing the floor boards on the western hallway.
It was another menial task but the assassin was at least joined by a cadre of other servants, all of whom were performing the same mindless jobs such as dusting the various decorations that lined the hall or washing windows. It was apparent enough that Baron Huac didn’t even need this many servants, he simply viewed the women as his own personal property; decorations themselves. Once she had gotten the information she needed from him, she would make sure that he met a truly vile end, of that she would make certain of.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” said a lofty voice full of boisterousness from behind her.
The assassin could only hide a smile; it was all going according to plan now. She knew that he would approach her first. She noticed on multiple occasions of his curiousness of her, his constant leering of her body whenever he had walked past her in the corridors. It had finally cumulated into this moment. He had finally taken the bait. The assassin prepared herself now, cautiously standing up but being careful to avoid direct eye contact, a slumped shoulder, and a nervous expression completed the ruse.
“I-I was just polishing the floor like I was told to, Master Huac.” She said with an unsteady quiver in her voice. She secretly congratulated herself on the quiver; she had just improvised it on the spot.
“I can see that quite clearly my darling, but why in all seriousness, are you crouching to do so? Its unladylike. Women no not crouch, they bend over.” He explained in a haughty manner, as if he had to slow down his manner of speech so that she could comprehend what he was saying.
Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but only for a brief second. It would be folly to blow her cover now.
“I’m sorry Master Huac, It’s just more comfortable for me to clean this way.” She replied in an innocent tone to the baron. The sound of audible gasps from the other maids caught her attention which was accompanied with an astonished expression from the country baron. She wasn’t expecting that.
“You dare…talk back to me?” his voice laced with irritation, as his favorite toy had just grown a will of its own and didn’t want to play with him anymore.
“While you work at my estate, you follow my rules, my orders. If I tell you to cook, you cook. If I tell you to clean, you clean. If I tell you to bend over- well, you should get the picture by now because if you don’t, I’ll have you thrown out to the dogs and be used as practice for my next hunt, do I make myself clear servant?” He said with extreme malice, the sight of which didn’t even faze her in the slightest.
But it was still important to keep to her ruse, so she put on a pained expression, as if she was fighting back tears and fear, nodding her head furiously as she prepared to resume her work.
“And I think a suitable punishment is needed since you clearly don’t understand the hierarchy of proper etiquette within my household. You’ve just lost the privilege of underwear.” He informed her as a matter of factly.
The sheer audacity of the command stunned Katarina. She could only respond with a bewildered look of shock as she starred at the open hand that Baron Huac extended towards her.
“That uniform was assigned to you, and I can take it away as punishment if you don’t begin to learn your place. Or would you rather take your chances with my dogs?” he said in a sarcastic hopeful manner, as if he was half expecting her to choose the dogs.
The assassin could barely suppress the rage and killing instinct that now engulfed her. She could kill him now; she had more than enough blades hidden on her person to do it. The only problem was that there would be witness, the several other servants behind her that had stopped working to watch the exchange taking place. She wasn’t cleared for an assassination of a noble by Noxian High Command, and even then she was working off the record. Silencing witness was one thing, but she was no murderer. It had to be done.
She never broke eye contact with the Baron, a defiant look of rage in her eyes as she hooked the black lacy undergarment with her fingers from beneath the already short maid uniform and with a quick shimmy, pulled them down. She briskly stepped out of them, picked them up, and placed in the Baron’s open hand, all in one swift motion. It was of good quality too, imported directly from Bandle City no doubt. The baron simply half smiled half sneered as he held the still warm garment in his hand.
‘At least he didn’t smell them.’ Katarina said to herself suppressing a shudder. That probably would have been the breaking point.
“Now you may resume your work. And this time…bend over.” He commanded to her.
The rage was too much for Katarina to give an appropriate response, so she simply turned around and bent over to take out her aggression on the floor boards, which in her opinion were already polished enough.
“Lower…and on all fours.” The baron taunted above her, while now twirling the piece of undergarment around his finger.
The assassin had to bite her tongue to stop herself from gutting him where he stood. But she had to play along for now. She reluctantly acquiesced to his demands and arched her back, forcing her rear higher into the air and her hair to drag on the floor as she polished. She could visibly see her knuckles whiten from the sheer force she was using to grip the brush.
“Much better, and if you ever want this back” he proclaimed as he finally seemed to be done torturing his toy, “I will see you in my private office after dinner at sundown…and that is also an order in case you are too slow to figure that out.” He said in a mocking tone as he begin to stride pompously down the hallway, all the while still twirling the fabric around his finger.
The other servants quickly focused back on their own tasks, redoubling their efforts in order to spare themselves from the same humiliation; if only for a little while. The assassin didn’t even look up as she scrubbed the floor even harder. She had her opening now; she would take her revenge then, while extracting the necessary information from her. It would be a long and arduous process, but she looked forward to it.
Hours passed and eventually the time came. She had armed himself to the teeth now; sixteen different sized blades, razor wire, various long needles, and even a rusty spoon she had found in the cellar, all expertly hidden and concealed within her maid uniform. She would incapacitate him first, single punch to the throat to nullify any cries for help, pin him to the desk chair with the needles, and start hacking off body parts if he didn’t give the information she wanted about the disappearance of her father. She knocked twice at the ornate wooden doors of Baron Huac’s private office, and several moments had passed before she tried again, with no response either. She opened the door and entered the private office anyway; she had half expected him to chastise at her sudden intrusion or perhaps actually indulging in his new profession of the information trade. She was greeted by neither; instead what she saw before her was a now dead Baron Huac, hunched over his overcrowded desk, fresh blood oozing from his mouth and a dagger protruding out of his back. Someone had robbed Katarina of her kill, and she recognized the blade that did.
“Talon!” she growled as she gritted her teeth.
A blob of darkness dropped from the ceiling, landing across the room and standing proud and tall with his hood covering his eyes as he addressed the female assassin.
“I thought that was you, the hair threw me off for a bit. Didn’t realize High Command sent both of use to take care of this one. Guess that means I win this round...cute outfit by the way.” The hooded assassin remarked, stroking his chin as he admired the more scantily clad assassin.
Katarina simply ignored him as she walked over to the dead body, effortlessly extracting the knife from the dead noble and throwing back to Talon, who caught it deftly with a single hand.
“Why did command want him dead?” she asked as she rolled the body aside and begin to rummage through his clothing.
Usually information brokers kept the most private and important intelligence on their person at all times.
The caped assassin shrugged his shoulders as he wiped the blood of the knife and replaced it on his belt. “Got caught trying to buy Demacian state secrets with Noxian gold from what I heard. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer if you ask me.” The assassin chuckled to himself at his own joke.
But Katarina was too absorbed with trying to find any piece of information that held the late baron’s secrets. She breathed sigh of relief as she pulled out a small leather bound journal from an inside coat pocket, lightly tinged with the barons still fresh blood. No doubt the book would be encoded, and with him dead, it would take twice as long if not longer to decode it and learn its secret. And in the process she had managed to recover her underwear as well.
“Anyway, we’d better leave while we still have cover of darkness.” Talon expressed as he looked out a nearby window.
Katarina agreed as she headed towards the now ownerless bedroom of Huac to find traveling clothes and to rid herself of this ridiculous outfit. There was no possible way she was leaving in her attire now. And she had learned much. The disappearance of her father had permeated even into the lower nobility, or perhaps there was a much greater conspiracy than she had originally thought. The journal would take time to decode, but she knew of a few code masters she had contact with that valued discretion and coin. She was one stop closer in discovering the secrets of her father. And nothing was going to stop her from doing so.
This some crazy Noxian necromancy or something? Because this certainly seemed dead not too long ago XD.
Anyway, your writing is pretty good, and the premise is rather interesting, even if the... Maturity of it shall we say? Seems a bit needless. I'll watch this.
Just a suggestion, post the story on FF.net, put a link in the first post, and post here whenever there's an update. Story's good, the mature themes a little bit 'forced' (they're another reason to just link to FF) but they don't conflict with your actual flow of events (as far as I can tell.)
The following chapter has been heavily censored due to excessive amounts of mature content. To see the full chapter, click the link on the first post.
To a trained assassin, who took pride in her own perfection and technique, this was a complete mess. It had taken her quite some time to find a trustworthy code master to try to decrypt the former information broker’s journal. And in the end, what was revealed in the journal was not only incriminating, it was appalling. She was forced to eliminate the poor code master, a necessary precaution the assassin had to take if what the journal had shown was true. The conspiracy, it seemed, involved a fair amount of members from Noxian High Command. This didn’t surprise her in the least; Generals were always plotting and backstabbing each other to gain favor or perhaps even one day usurp the Grand General, the undisputed leader of Noxus and a position currently held by the tactician Swain. What had surprised her the most was that the perpetrator who had organized the disappearance of General Du Couteau, Katarina’s own father, was not only a famed war hero, he was also dead.
At least he should have been; she had attended his funeral.
But the sheer audacity of it all still made Katarina doubt its contents. A general of Noxus would have no need of hiding or faking his own death, unless he had gone rouge and defected to the enemy? Did someone threaten him? Was he working on his own elaborate agenda? There were too many variables now. She needed answers. And she needed to find him.
Luckily for the crimson haired assassin, she personally knew of one person who had served under the general, although she was not looking forward to the meeting. They had never really been…amicable. It was also the reason why she had agreed to meet her contact at her place of work, a rather famous tavern situated at the very edge of the Zuanite-Noxus border. It was a loud, boisterous environment, with cheap ale, bad singing, and too many vantage points that would have been perfect for an ambush. The drunk patrons didn’t help as well, as evidenced when one brazen fool had the gall to offer her an ale, plunking the wooden tankard in front of her. She graciously thanked him by presenting one of her recently sharpened throwing daggers deep into his thigh and twisting. The sound him crashing to the floor and clutching his impaled leg screaming in pain almost brought a satisfied smile to her face as his cohorts began to drag the wounded man away; Almost.
‘At least the ale was drinkable,’ the assassin thought to herself as she took a swig of the warm golden liquid.
“I hear a simple ‘thank you’ can also work as well,” Said a woman with a disgruntled sigh as she sat down across from Katarina.
She had stark white hair, an unblinking expression, and folded arms as she leered at the crimson haired assassin, trying to stare her down. Katarina would have responded in kind with her own menacing glare, but in this situation, she didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for the girl. She may have had the personae of a fierce stalwart warrior, but it was somehow diminished in her soft white bunny ear headband, low cut corset, and cute fluffy bunny tail.
“A knife to the leg still gets the message across” Katarina said with a smirk to Riven, currently employed at the infamous ‘Burlesque Bunny Emporium’, a renowned establishment where the waitresses and entertainers’ standard uniform was a tight fitting and equally revealing bunny suit, complete with cuffs, heels and cotton tail as well. It was also a well-known fact that Riven also worked here, which only furthered its popularity throughout Valoran. Because of this, it wasn’t uncommon for League champions to be seen here.
“What do you want Katarina? You know just as well as I do that we’ve never really gotten along well with each other.” The warrior said indifferently to the assassin as a tankard was also placed in front of her by another bunny themed waitress, although she left her drink alone. And she was right; although the two women were staunchly loyal to Noxus, they both viewed the other as disillusioned. If it wasn’t for the League, it wouldn’t be surprising to find only one of the two sitting at this table today.
“Agreed, I didn’t come here for pleasantries,” Katarina responded, taking another sip of the ale, which was surprisingly starting to grow on her. She leaned in close to the table, tenting her fingers and lowering her voice.
“You served with General Anark Stavh during the Ionian invasion didn’t you?”
The look of shock of Riven’s face was more than enough to facilitate an answer. General Stavh was famous in his own right; legendary for single handedly devising and leading the invasion on Ionia, his tactics used in Ionia were still being taught in Noxian military academies, even his occupation procedures, which were brutal even by Noxian standards. But when the occupation ended during the Ionia versus Noxus Rematch, on his return voyage back to Noxus, he was poisoned by Ionian assassins and given a hero’s funeral. She had even watched his body burn on the great pyre that marked him a true and honorable warrior of Noxus. At least that was what she had seen; but perhaps not the truth.
“I have to get back to work.” Riven said suddenly as she began to rise out of her seat, only to be stopped by a sudden hand grabbing her wrist.
“I didn’t come here on orders from High Command. I’m here for…personal reasons. I know Stavh is supposed to be dead but I have information that suggests that he’s still active. I need to know where and why and you’re the only one I can…trust.” She could feel the bile rising to her throat as she finished her sentence.
It wasn’t a word she particularly liked to use. Trust was something that could be taken advantage of and used. Luckily for her it seemed to work on Riven, who cautiously sat back down into her chair, curiously starring at the assassin who now looked away shamefully.
“I…I’m sorry Katarina…but I can’t help you,” Riven whispered.
“Because you refuse or you don’t know?”
“Because that life is behind me. Everything is. I did horrible things on Ionia, terrible unwarranted things. And I was rewarded for it with a biochemical barrage from a psychotic trigger happy mad scientist. I’m done with Ionia… and I don’t care if you have to torture me, kill me, or haunt me to the end of my days but I’m not reliving that again. I relive it every time I go to sleep.” Riven said ruefully.
At this an awkward silence grew between the two of them. Katarina starring intently at the bunny eared warrior with tented fingers and Riven fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat. It would have seemed that Katarina’s endeavors would have been for naught; but an assassin always had a backup plan.
“I was hoping I could spare you from this…but I guess you leave me with no choice.” Katarina said with a sigh as she produced a fist sized leather bag from underneath the table and deftly tossed it across the clamoring room, which was expertly caught by the female bartender, who was also dressed in a bunny themed outfit.
“What was that?” Riven asked questioningly as the bartender, who also happened to be her boss, gave the crimson haired assassin a slight bow and appreciative smile.
“I just bought you for the night. For the next twenty-four hours, I own you.” Katarina said with a smirk as she downed the rest of her drink, slamming the now empty tankard on the table.
“Bu-wha-you can’t do that!” Riven cried out in a mixture of both anger and fear, her bunny ears flopping around as she didn’t know whether to direct her outburst at her boss or at Katarina.
“I just did. Now, shall we continue this discussion up in our room? Or shall we just proceed here?” the assassin smirked, as she began to caress her leg against Riven’s beneath the table. The shudder she felt only widened her evil grin.
It was a lavishly styled room, the best that money could buy and usually reserved for guests of honor. Ornate paintings hung on the walls, with dark red curtains creating a sensual atmosphere. The smell of freshly picked roses neatly arranged in expensive looking vases tickled her nose as she the assassin strode over to the massive bed. Luxurious, massive, and as she sat down on the edge of it, could immediately tell it was made of cotton rather than the usual hay or furs. Very luxurious indeed; the exorbitant price was indeed worth it. Her companion however, cautiously entered the room, looking quite subdued. She wore a worried expression as she took quick glances at her surroundings, not unlike a rabbit unsure of its own surroundings in the wild.
“Shut the door Riven.” Katarina commanded as she crossed her legs and leaned back, watching her prey flinch as her named was called.
She looked as she was about to protest but did so with a defiant look in her eyes, all the while the cottontail twitched periodically; weather it was by enchantment or Riven’s own doing she couldn’t tell.
“Rule one. You can no longer refuse any of my orders or I’ll have a long chat with your boss and have her deal with you in her own way, and I’m sure she has something special planned for you if you refuse me. Rule two; since I own you know I think its only fitting that you call me Mistress Katarina now, don’t you agree?” Katarina explained gleefully, taking obvious joy at Riven’s growing discomfort.
“Yes…Mistress” Riven grumbled staring at her feet, her voice laced hostility, which only made the situation more exciting for Katarina.
“Hmmm… Now what to do with you then…what to do…how about you give a little strip show?” Katarina commanded with an evil grin.
“Wha- What?! Are you ser-“the flustered warrior was suddenly cut off by Katarina holding up a single finger. Visibly she remained stern and assertive, even though she was fighting the urge to burst out laughing at her panicking prey.
“Oh come on. In a place like this? You mean to tell me that you don’t offer things like what?” Katarina continued, egging her on.
“No! I just serve drinks and take orders! I’ve never had to do that…plus…” Riven paused hesitantly. “I don’t know how…”
Katarina gave her a bemused look
The bunny ears flopped about as Riven nodded her head.
‘What an innocent girl,’ the assassin thought to herself. Corrupting her would be more than a joy.
“Its simple really. You shake your hips, and then take off a piece of clothing. You dance a little and then take off some more clothing. Make it enticing. Play coy, make me want you.” She explained. “And its Mistress” she added haughtily.
Several hours would eventually pass, with Riven apparently exhausted, slept soundly in Katarina’s arms, her leg entwined with hers as the assassin gently stroked the sleeping woman’s hair. She had to admit that their session had been fun, and it would have been a shame to have to leave her, but Riven was kind enough to reveal what she knew to her. She was another step closer to finding her father. Riven shifted in her sleep, and nestled into Katarina even more while mumbling something in her sleep. It was hard to make out, but Katarina didn’t know weather she said ‘mistress’ or ‘Katarina’ or perhaps it was mixture of both. She would remember to use that later when teasing the poor girl. But for now, the assassin merely pulled up the bed sheets on the both of them and rested her head atop hers. She could spare a more hours enjoying this. After all, she did own her; at least for a little while longer.
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