Maidarina's (Canon in Noxus)

The red head sighed softly, all but collapsing onto the bed. Even if it wasn't anywhere near as soft as her own, anything was fine to her at this point. She breathed softly, clad in that which she hated most. The woman closed her eyes. Her face was caked in a layer of cosmetics, something she apparently had been forced to learn to apply in a ruthless crash course. A few mere hours had stretched to what felt like days. The mattress depressed lightly as another person sat nearby, the blond girl smiling at the flustered woman as Rera brushed a few strands of hair from the assassin's face.

Katarina's mind was filled with complaints she had yet to vocalize. These outfits were absolutely absurd. They were nice, of course; on other people. In the same way as potted plants or paintings looked nice. Actually being forced to wear such articles of clothing was just strange and uncomfortable to say the least- not to mention horribly inadequate for carrying just about anything useful. How was anyone supposed to be able to conceal a knife without belts of any kind save those made of silk and lace? The Sinister Blade opened her eyes, her maid's own staring back down into them as Katarina sat back up, taking a deep breath before starting.

"Verdict?"

Her companion beamed, everything about the woman seemed almost maternal as she nodded.

"I wouldn't be able to distinguish you from another demure maid at all!”

Rera giggled lightly.

“So long as you keep that vulgar mouth of yours shut!"

Katarina smirked, a soft gust of air from her nostrils as she chuckled lightly at the joke. She really had been complaining quite a bit throughout the night. She raised her silk covered knees lightly, kicking her feet out as she leaped forward. Heels clicked against the stone, the stiletto sliding a little further than the assassin was used to as she placed a hand onto the ground for stability- keeping herself from toppling over onto her face. Her crimson hair cascaded over her shoulders, no longer restrained by the armoured leather jacket that normally helped keep most of the shorter strands in check. The material of her skirt fluttered a moment longer, the Sinister Blade blushing lightly as the woman behind her giggled once more at her little antics. Katarina drew herself to full height, still more than a little weirded out by the fact that the familiar surroundings were quite a bit... lower than she was used to. An extra few inches did just that, she mused.

"Rera."

She turned, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"The healer is ready and available?"

The blond nodded, standing and bringing over the capped vial; again, offering the delicately crafted glass to Katarina. The assassin accepted the vial, staring at it for a moment. The eerie blue light radiating from the glass was unsettling. Green orbs looked it over once more… the shimmering viscous substance flowed about… lapping at the edges of the glass but never quite sticking. She traced her thumb along the golden thorns; feeling the unnatural coldness as her thumb stopped at the rose adorning the cap. She swallowed. Was she really trusting the Grand General with something like this? It was readily apparent that the Du Couteau didn’t exactly approve of his rise to power. What if Katarina was to be eliminated? In such a way. It would be clean. Easy. Simple. Elegant. Noxian necromancy could bring her back to the front lines; enslaved- without free will. Forced to do High Command’s bidding. A mere doll. She closed her eyes again, blocking out the alluring blue light. Swain and herself were the only ones aware of the nature of such a mission. If she were to pass would Talon and Cassiopeia be sufficient to locate her late father? Would they be able to exact the vengeance her patriarch so deserved? She steeled herself; clearing her mind of such doubts.

She was one of the three blades of Noxus.

Her thumb moved slightly, applying pressure against the bottom of the rose. The petals shivered. Katarina’s eyes opened, staring into the azure glow as the petals on the rose seemed to wither away; evaporating into nothingness- exposing the sapphire liquid. Katarina gripped the vial a little harder. Without warning, she raised the glass to her lips and tipped it; closing her eyes once again.

Her throat shifted.

There was no taste. Katarina shut her eyes even tighter. There was no change. The pressure in her hand as she returned her hands to her sides vanished- the vial, too, melting away into nothingness as their work was complete. She thought vaguely about the extravagant construction of such a device. To form a solid object out of one’s mana. Most impressive, from what she had heard anyway-

She felt something.

Her lips parted as she exhaled, her brows furrowing as she fell to her knees. Her limbs hung limp. Sounds no longer registered in her mind, she was just… tired. Darkness embraced Katarina as she blacked out.












"Heel, then toe! Sway~ your hips a little!"

Katarina stirred. Mumbling softly in response.

"Purse your lips! No, wash it off, and do it again!"

A soft moan escaped her lips; her addled mind pounding as the darkness slowly began to fade; her recent memories blurring into nothingness as a curious warmth tickled her ear.

"Katarina?"

It was quiet. Barely above a whisper- the same voice as the one who had been lecturing her. Yet much clearer. As if the previous sounds were but a picture viewed through a heavy mist and this latest, despite its hushed tones, were crystal clear.

"Rer...a?"

It was high pitched... almost sickeningly sweet. Her eyes flashed open, blinded for a moment as her mind slowed to register what was happening. Who was that? She didn't recognize that voice. A more masculine voice penetrated the silence.

"Ah, she's awake."

Katarina glanced towards the source of the sound. Her field of vision was predominantly white. Something white. Blankets? She was in bed. Where? Her head was moved lightly- her hand instinctively came up as her other stabilized herself. Her head pounded. Too slow? She felt a hand holding her wrist and pressing it back into the soft covers. The medical wing. She glanced to the side, noting the white curtains, slightly pulled aside. She returned her gaze to the man holding her chin in an iron grip. Katarina winced as she were temporarily blinded yet again. A brilliant magical orb pouring light against her eyes as the hand turned her head to face the light one eye at a time. Adrian.

She shut her eyes as the residential healing mage released his grip on her chin. How did he of all people...

"Rera. She's fine. Probably just fainted from overexertion. I know you're passionate about your duty because of your ties to this household, but do try to tone things down. When we tell you to break in the new maids we don't mean literally. Especially her."

"Yes... Sorry.."

The familiar voice, yet again. New maids? Katarina wracked her mind. Ah. Yes. There was to be a new one. A blond, as well. One of the late Darkwill's, was it? She wasn't due until next week though. She sat up, breathing heavily. The doctor turned with a swish of his robes. Leaving just like that? How disrespectful. She was about to voice her complaints when a golden strand passed her field of vision. A light gasp.

"I... "

A finger was pressed against her lips. She turned towards her maid, the woman shaking her head slowly before she scurried off after the doctor. Faint voices were heard. She could see the shadows of the two. Rera curtsied, then quickly returned to Katarina's side. She leaned in close, her lips only moment's away from the assassin's ear.

"That was amazing!"

Katarina paused, looking down at her hands while the woman spoke. She was no longer in the maid's outfit. A medical smock?

"I was so shocked, I watched as you changed! If I hadn't seen the process myself I would never have believed..."

Katarina blinked.

"Oh, right!"

The girl scurried off. Katarina moved the covers, revealing more of her body. The smock was formless, there was not enough information. Rera returned with a simple looking mirror, Katarina looking back up towards the maid.

"See for yourself!"

Katarina froze. The woman in the mirror did the same. She watched the blond raise her hand, running her fingers through her hair. Her eyes. Blue? She blinked. Impossible. Katarina's jaw felt as if it dropped all the way. The woman in the mirror mimicked her perfectly.

The newly found blonde raised an arm, motioning lightly for the maid to move backwards. She slid off the bed. Blood coursed through her limbs. As if thousands of needles pierced through them at an instant. She cursed to herself. That voice too. It was so... annoying. A sudden realization hit her. No wonder she abhorred the voice. It was reminiscent of the Crownguard's younger sister. She sighed, wiggling her toes; attempting to liberate her tired limbs from their torment. Katarina ran her finger along where her scar had once etched her skin. Completely smooth, pristine skin graced her finger. She wasn't sure what the illusionist had done, but it was damn convincing. It took her another few moments before she felt she had sufficient mastery over her limbs. The pulsating feeling in her head, too, had subsided. Katarina motioned towards Rera, about to lead the two back to her room when it dawned upon her that perhaps a blonde in a smock leading Katarina's personal maid around would look rather strange. Might as well get in character now. Katarina bunched up the sides of her smock in her hands, crossing her legs slightly as she bent at the waist; lowered her head before her maid- non verbally signalling her servant to take the lead with a smirk.









Activity. Light spilled into the darkness, penetrating the black veil with ever widening beams as the hatch was opened. Sounds. It took every ounce of self-control to suppress her natural reaction. To respond to the stimulus. The others had noticed. They were beginning to move. She breathed out. Slowly, calculated. She had to be vulnerable.

The wooden planks slammed against the deck of the ship. The sounds of the outside world came pouring in. It was more sound than just the Pirates would make on their own. Something that was of no small task considering how absolutely rowdy they were. Repulsive, really. If they hadn’t demonstrated their worth previously one would wonder how such trash could ever accomplish much of anything at all. Returning from her tangent, the blond fidgeted lightly. They arrived. She opened her eyes, glimmering blue orbs bathed within the shadows as a hand was placed on her shoulder. She winced, restraining herself from forcibly removing the feminine grasp. A smiling face. She returned it, hoping that her expression seemed genuine.

"Get upp~ They're going to be much rougher than me if you're still lazing about~"

Katarina stirred, body sore. She heaved her legs over the side of the rather uncomfortable bunk as she muttered a short thanks to the other woman. She closed her eyes once more. Rough? Please. Two corpses now joined the many others that littered the Noxian slums. Had they been found? They definitely had. Most likely looted of the little they carried. One could easily tell that they did not belong and that only promoted the debauchery that would follow. Their bodies would never be found. Most likely fed to relatively tamed beasts that had long developed a taste for man. The thump of boots as one of the gruff men landed onto the ground and began barking orders. How easy would it be? Judging from the sound he couldn’t actually be that big. He also wouldn’t be that high in the echelons to be sent to retrieve cargo. The pirates were relatively merit based as well, his rank being indicative of his skill. How long would it take her? Two seconds? Perhaps more if she wanted to avoid injuring the girl next to her. Her tongue danced out, dampening her lips as she savoured the thought for a moment longer. She had seen how he eyed his cargo. Truly a pity that such scum of Valoran would live to see another day. She had her obligations, after all.

She sighed softly as she carefully followed the others out onto the deck. She took care, not to defend herself, but to intentionally unbalance. To act as the others, upon just having wobbled their way onto the deck. The wooden planks were warm to her bare feet. She could taste the salt in the air. Despite having been out as sea for an extended period of time she still hadn’t quite adapted to the strange feeling of unsteady ground. Feigning vulnerability was only made more difficult by the fact that she really was somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. Not to mention the absurdity of prancing about in such an impractical outfit. Could it even be called as such? A humiliating piece of worn cloth that hugged her form too tightly in some places and much too loosely in others. She joined the others in a line towards the exit, careful to neither lead nor lag behind.

The ocean breeze was comfortable, especially considering how dank the sleeping arrangements had been previously. She stared off into the horizon, the smile on her face mirrored across her peers albeit for slightly different reasons. They were happy to be home. She was happy to be one step closer to her ultimate goal. She joined the others in stretching their tired limbs as the ship moored at the Demacian docks. It truly was the antithesis to her country. Golden peaks dotted the horizon, steadfast; contrasting against the freely fluttering blue that streamed across the sky. The white adorning the flags stark against the blue cloth. She lowered her head as the ship stopped moving. She was thankful she had been here multiple times already. If not, the majesty of such a place might have led to a more unnatural reaction. Regardless of their incompetence in other areas and an absolutely putrid set of laws the Demacians were at the very least good at some things. She scoffed lightly. Too bad strength in construction and aesthetics mattered little in the face of Noxian siege weapons. The grand machines firing their enchanted payloads crashing through the marble; stone shattering as flaming projectiles burst through the towers that must have taken considerable effort to put together.

She caught herself in amidst her fantasies, almost reacting instinctively to presence of the distinctive blue and gold armor boarding the ship. A soft exhale as she maintained her composure. She turned, instead, to the other blonde that had roused her from her slumber, attempting another genuine smile. It was clear from their body language that the Demacian girls were noticeably relaxing in the presence of their own country’s guardians. What appeared to be the captain of the investigating soldiers stopped to talk to the captain, others peering about and exploring the ship. Another soldier bearing the Crownguard family crest appeared soon after; speaking to the captain almost immediately after the man had finished speaking to the pirate, having confirmed the sailor’s story. Standing shoulder to shoulder with civilians on a ship crawling with Demacian soldiers. This was a new one. The last time she had found herself in such a situation she had been escorted by the Prince himself. Her mind was barely there as she engaged in light chit chat with the girl. How old was the girl? Seventeen? Sixteen? Oh. She could just ask the girl. Simple enough. Wait. How old was she? She needed an age at least somewhat similar to the girl in order to promote friendship as equals rather than be treated as the girl’s elder. Information flowed more easily across parallel relationships. Nineteen. She cut off the conversation with a smile, using the guard motioning towards them as an excuse. She reached towards the girl’s hand, grasping it within her own as she tugged gently. It was strange initiating such an act, but it only seemed natural in such a case as she began heading towards the officer.

Katarina followed the others off the ship upon checking in with the guard bearing the Crownguard crest. Her hair waved in the breeze, no longer sheltered from the ocean winds as they were on the deck. She ran her fingers through her golden mane. So far so good. She breathed a sigh of relief as she glanced towards the smooth stone that lined the main street. The others seemed to share her relief after marching through a few of the less maintained Noxian paths on their way to the docks. She had yet to make contact with the demon bird- thankfully, considering she had yet to be graced with a moment of privacy. Her legs moved as if on autopilot, walking behind the officer’s billowing cape. She had accepted that the creature would come as needed, and that it was host to sufficient intellect not to blow her cover- but really when would she have the opportunity to meet with such a creature? If Demacian servants were anything like their Noxian equivalents then maids weren’t exactly privy to much time alone. She caught sight of what seemed like the rest of the procession that would be escorting them to the Crownguard estate as one of the other maids exclaimed in joy at what seemed to be a recognized face. A woman, flanked by a pair of guards, beamed at the recently liberated girls. Katarina groaned to herself at the sight, a light blush adorning her cheeks. It was as she had feared. The black silk that hugged the woman’s legs. The skirt with all too many frills. The white that meshed with the outfit and seemed only to accentuate the fact that there was all too little material for any proper dress. She had half a mind to cut out on her mission and attempt to kill everyone present. Although she would be happy to get out of the rags she had been wearing; something about that outfit seemed worse in a way. Shaking her head, she steeled her mind- checked her resolve. This was going to be a long day.










Then Katarina murdered Swain for being a bitch.
I mean what?
Yes.
Also, WIP.