Chapter Text
The cold of the cell penetrated to the depths of his bones.
Garen, the great knight of Demacia and valiant captain of the renowned Vanguard, was chained, kneeling on the cold, hard floor. His hands, once skillful wielders of an imposing sword, now remained tied behind his back. Deprived of his gleaming armor but never stripped of his unyielding pride.
His cell, immersed in darkness, was an inhospitable den that hoarded the lamentations and sighs of those whose freedom had been snatched away. The walls, covered in mold and dampness, rose around him as silent witnesses to his confinement. The uneven stone floor offered a rigid and cold bed.
A single, worn-out torch flickered on the wall, casting faint gleams that barely managed to dispel the shadows. The rancid stench of the place mixed with dampness, creating a stale atmosphere that clung to the skin and lungs.
The distant sound of clinking chains echoed in his cell, giving him a faint hope that he was not alone in this terrible place. It wasn't that he wished this suffering upon someone else, but the simple knowledge of being accompanied was, in a way, comforting.
He released a deep sigh, allowing his head to bow to his chest. The battle cuts still burned on his arms and legs, but what hurt the most was his pride, his honor. He had fallen in combat and had been taken prisoner; there was no greater disgrace for a knight.
Memories of the battle crowded his mind like ghosts coming to torment him. He remembered fighting on the eastern front, on the vast expanse that separated Demacia from its eternal rival, Noxus. This conflict had dragged on for so many years that it almost seemed routine, but this time it wasn't.
He was battling on the front lines, as was his custom, leading the troops from the first line and being an example of fortitude and dedication. However, suddenly, terrible screams of pain echoed from the rear. Garen made a grave mistake by letting himself be distracted by these cries, concerned about the archers who always guarded their backs. This error proved fatal, as he didn't see the blow coming. A gauntlet headed directly for his face, hitting him with force. After that, he only saw darkness.
When he regained consciousness, he found himself bound in the enemy camp, surrounded by the mockery of his captors. These, without a trace of tact, jeered repeatedly at him for the fall of his kingdom. They recounted how Noxus had allied with a rebellious mage named Sylas, and together they had dealt the final blow to the nation of order and justice.
At first, Garen refused to believe them, but as the days passed and he observed that his captors were mobilizing intact back to their capital, the idea ceased to be a mere mockery and became a harsh reality. Thus, over the course of a long week, he had gone from being a brave knight of the Valiant Vanguard to becoming the sole occupant of a damp cell in the depths of the Immortal Bastion.
The echo of approaching footsteps in the corridor pulled him out of his memories and brought him back to the present. Garen clenched his teeth, ready to face whatever they had planned for him with his head held high.
He heard the lock of his cell open and expected to see a burly warrior, ready to give him the beating of his life, so he couldn't contain his astonishment when a slender, feminine figure slipped into his cell, quickly closing the door behind her. Despite the dim light, her blood-red hair was visible and as clear as the midday sun, making the warrior feel his heart leap in his chest as he recognized the woman.
"Kat! Is it you? What are you doing here? You must go, they shouldn't..." The warrior was silenced by the gloved hand of the woman, who with quick and feline movements ran towards him, covering his mouth.
"Shhh... I know you like to be emphatic when you speak, and I've always liked that about you. But this is not the time to use your commanding voice," said the woman as she leaned beside him, sitting in front of him.
Her hands caressed his face tenderly, while her eyes were filled with sadness.
"Garen... I'm so sorry," she murmured, gently wiping the dust and mud from her beloved's face. Feeling the warmth of the woman's hands returned some warmth to his soul, causing the knight to lean into them, letting the assassin fill him with caresses.
"We always knew this day would come," he said calmly, offering a faint smile to the woman. "From those early encounters, we knew we were fighting for opposing nations. We knew that one of us would fall, and the other would rise. Part of me is glad it wasn't me who had to strike you down on the battlefield. It's comforting to know that you are my executioner. Please, do it quickly; nothing I desire more than to end all of this," he uttered those ominous words with a warm smile, like that of a lover narrating a poem to his beloved. But Katarina vehemently shook her head.
"No, Garen, I am not your executioner, and you don't have to die today. I've come to get you out of here, quickly, just let..." But the knight cut her off abruptly, pulling his face away from her hands, leaning back as upright as his restraints allowed.
"I won't allow that. If you help me escape, you'll be a traitor to Noxus," he exclaimed.
Katarina bit her lip in frustration. She had always loved the stoicism of the warrior. Born into a nest of assassins, where one who doesn't serve the clan wakes up with a dagger in the back, she found her beloved's chivalry enchanting. He put others first, cared for the weakest, regardless of whether they were creatures incapable of fending for themselves. He cared for everyone, no matter what, because those were his values, his morals, his ethics.
Now, it was the woman who dropped her face onto her chest.
"So, what should I do? Sit idly by and watch them torture you, drag you to the public square, and execute you in exemplary fashion?"
"It's not that I desire that fate, but... I couldn't bear to see you ruin your life for me. You'll be branded as traitor if you help me, unable to return to your lands, unable to see your family or loved ones. I've already lost everything, please don't ask me to be the cause of you losing everything too."
Katarina's eyes filled with tears instantly. Unable to restrain herself, she threw herself onto the knight, burying her face in his neck. Garen also dropped his head into her crimson hair, savoring those seconds of calm and tranquility that destiny had granted them.
"Alright, I won't be the one to set you free, not today. But I won't sit idly by. I'll think of something; at least, I'll buy some time," she said as she stood up, leaving a tender kiss on the warrior's forehead before swiftly walking towards the door she disappeared through as quickly as she entered, leaving Garen alone again in the dimness, focused on listening to her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Although he also thought he heard another sound that trailed behind her steps, like the gentle cawing of a crow flying after her.