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The Du Couteau Manor was unusually Quiet that night. No missions, no hurried footsteps in the halls—just the cackle of the grand fireplace in the living room, casting flickering shadows across the wall. Katarina, Cassiopeia and Talon sat wordlessly on the oversized couch, the silence between them thick.
Eventually Katarina breaks the silence, her gaze drifting to Talon. “You know…” she began, her voice weirdly soft, “you've never really told us what it was like—growing up on the streets.”
Talon glanced at her, a look of confusion flickering in his eyes.
“Why would I tell you that?” he replies, tone almost dismissive.
Cassiopeia sat up, curiosity piqued as a wide grin formed on her face. “Kata's right though! You've never told us anything about your life before you came here. I'm curious too! Kata and I don't know what it's like out there. It must have been hard–being so alone.”
Talon glanced into the fire, watching as the flames danced in the air.
“I wasn't always alone.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. He sighed, already regretting it as both sisters leaned in, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Alright alright, I will tell you what I remember.”
Rain pounded against the rooftops, turning the cobbled streets into flowing rivers. Water rushed between the uneven stones, soaking Talon's bare feet as he waved through the shadows.
Surviving as an orphan on the streets of Noxus meant you made do with what little you had. Anything was better than nothing, and sometimes that little thing can save your life.
Talon walked through the bustling alleys of the Noxian underground. It was a lot easier to steal when people were pushing past each other in these tight and busy spaces.
After a while of pickpocketing he went into a small alley to see what he managed to get.
A small bag with money, some jewellery, a knife-
“Stop!” A sudden scream caught Talons attention and curiously he followed that scream. It sounded like a child and turning the corner he immediately saw what was happening.
There were four teenagers, surrounding a young child, close to his own age. The child looked terrified, backed off into a corner, in his hand a small bag.
“You little rat!” The leader of the group, a bulky teen with a missing finger growled. “You stole my fucking food! Give it back right now!”
When you live on the streets you quickly learn to mind your own business. People fend for themselves and Talon wasn't much different.
He really wanted to just keep walking, maybe go back to pickpocketing but something made him stop in his tracks. The distressed shouts of the child made his neck hair stand up and he did something he never imagined to do.
He doubled back, silent as a shadow, then struck. A swift punch to the leaders gut, a kick to another's chin. The flash of his knife sent them all scrambling. Too easy.
“You're welcome…” he gruffs to the child, not even sparing him a glance as he moves to walk away but… he felt the child hold onto his hand.
“Please…” The young child pleaded, eyes big and watery. Then he saw them—yellow eyes. Just like his own.
It was a very rare eye colour, usually only seen on non-humans. So to find another Noxian child having the same eye colour as him was utterly weird.
“Listen kid, I saved your ass, now stop following me..” Talon started walking away, the sound of tiny footsteps trailing behind him. Irritated at the kid's stubbornness, he spun around.
“What do you want?” He snapped, making the kid flinch in surprise.
“I uh….” The kid mumbles, the small piece of bread he probably had stolen from those teens earlier clutched in his hand.
“Can I… come with you?”
Talon raised an eyebrow. “With me?” The kid nodded.
“No.” And again he tried to leave but the kid kept following.
Abruptly Talon turned again, grabbing the kid by the shoulder.
“Seriously, get lost. I dont do babysitting and I'm on my own. You should do the same. Sticking to your own arse is safer.”
The kid looked up at him with those big pleading eyes. He was thin, very thin, probably hadn't had anything proper to eat in ages. Not to mention the many bruises littered over his body.
He wouldn't last a week.
With an exaggerated sigh he pulls away. “Fine… you can stay with me for a few days but then you fuck off.”
Those few days turned into a week, then two weeks. Somehow Talon managed to get attached to this small child. He found out he was an orphan for a similar reason as himself. War, taking his parents.
The kid was four years younger—nine to Talon’s thirteen.
What he never found out was the kids name but he never really bothered asking anyways.
The kid was a great student though, he had to admit. He started teaching him a lot of things. How to pickpocket, how to steal food, how to defend himself. Eagerly, the younger trained, became pretty good with daggers. One time a drunkard tried attacking Talon and the kid jumped in and easily defeated him. Talon was pretty proud of that and he wondered if this is what it's like to have a brother.
It was a month later when they hung around their little hideout. They have been a lot more cautious nowadays as stories of orphan kids going missing on the street went around.
“What do you think is happening to those kids?” The younger asked, twirling his knife.
“No idea,” Talon muttered, glancing over, “Murdered, kidnapped,recruited—who knows? Wouldn't put it past Darkwill to clean up the streets for his own gain.”
No one liked Boram Darkwill. While Noxians loved the leader's aggressiveness, he was the reason so many children keep losing their parents. Hell, Talon's parents were sent out to Shurima and he never heard from them again. That man isn't a strategist, nor good at military stuff, all he knew was to run in full force with everything he has, no matter how many casualties there are.
While most Noxians love that display of strength, they don't like how it's used. Darkwill was a corrupt bastard that probably would do anything to get what he wants.
And Talon was praying for his downfall.
The sudden sound of a stomach growling catches his attention.
“Are you hungry?”
The kid nodded.
“Alright stay here.”
He moves to get up but the kid quickly runs over and grabs his shirt.
“Wait! No, don't leave me here alone! I can come with you!”
Gently, Talon frees his shirt from the small hand.
“I will be back soon. It's safer if I go alone. Just stay here, stay hidden. I promise I will be back.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
The kid frowns at him but finally lets him go.
“Can you bring me something sweet?”
“I will see what I can find. Stay here and don't come out unless I call for your help, okay?” he explains, ruffling the kids black hair affectionately.
The kid nodded and watched as Talon left the hideout.
The streets were quite empty. There were a few soldiers walking along the alleys, probably looking for the next pub to drink empty.
He barely spared them a glance. Useless. All of them.
Talon despised soldiers with all his heart. They had no honour, they killed for fun, not for a purpose. He would never understand joining the military, it just wasn't for him. And even if Boram himself came and forced Talon to join, he'd rather die. He isn't as stupid as his parents.
They chased honor and glory—pathetic.
Noxians worshipped strenght, blood and violence. But most forget the real key of survival—intelligence.
He doubts any of those soldiers walking by could survive in the vast wilderness or as long on the streets as he has been.
Weak. Pathetic. Soldiers are nothing more than ants.
Thuck. His head whips to the side as a dagger lands millimetres from his head right in a wooden frame. His instincts saved him.
“Impressive!” A voice drawled from the shadows. “You must be who they are calling Talon.”
Talon cocked his head as he looked into the direction the voice came from. “And who are you?”
“My name is Tareek, i’m coming on behalf of the Guild of the Blades, they want you to join them.”
“And if I don't?” And of course he won’t, why join some damn assassins guild who only kill for money.
“Well, then prepare to die.” The man dashed forward, his attack sloppy and without any thought. It was easy to dodge. Too easy. Almost disappointingly so.
The Guild of the Blades had been asking him to join for a while now and he always declined. He doesn't kill for people that pride themselves in being the best assassins and they can't even take down a 13 year old kid.
Pathetic.
He easily dodged the knife swinging at him, grabbing the arm of the other and kneed him into the chest. The man stumbles back, trying to catch his breath. At the dark glare of the child he decided to retreat for now, leaving behind a small bag.
He starts searching the bag, which was filled with money and some food. Jackpot, what a fucking idiot.
He hoists it up and leaves the alley.
He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, the weight of stolen coin and food pressing into his back. He smirked to himself. The kid was going to be happy. Maybe he could finally afford something sweet, just like he’d promised.
He slipped through the maze of alleyways, steps quick and silent. The cold night air carried the distant scent of wet stone and cheap ale. The closer he got, the more his muscles relaxed. It had been a good haul.
He turned the final corner—
And froze.
The door to their hideout was open.
His stomach twisted.
Slowly, he stepped inside.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
The small nest of blankets in the corner? Empty. The stolen trinkets they kept stacked against the wall? Gone.
His pulse slammed against his ribs.
“Kid?” His voice came out sharper than intended.
Silence.
His eyes darted across the room, searching. Something—anything—
Then he saw it.
A smear of red across the floor. Still wet.
A dagger lay nearby, his dagger—the one he gave the kid for protection. It was snapped clean in half.
“No… No, no, no! Come on kid! Don't do this to me. Where are you?!”
Talon didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing.
He swallowed hard, his fingers curling into fists. He forced himself to move, to search for clues, to figure out what the hell happened—but deep down, he already knew.
Someone took him.
And Talon had left him alone.
He had promised.
He had promised.
And now the kid was gone.
The fire crackled in the silence as his words hung in the air. “It's the last I've seen of him. Not long after that, Marcus adopted me and I mostly forgot about it. Though… sometimes I'd visit the hideout, just to see if maybe the boy returned.” Talon finished his story, staring up into the ceiling.
The sisters stayed quiet As they stared at him. They couldn't believe Talon went through all that and never told them about it. Frankly, they don't care much about being orphans or needing to learn to survive on their own, still having both their parents. It was hard to sympathize with someone, they don't really understand.
And still they wanted to somehow comfort him.
Cassiopeia sat up, giving her words a few thoughts.
“Haven't you ever wondered what happened to the boy?”
And if Talon is honest, he did. Especially after hearing of kids kidnapped from the streets and sent out as soldiers. He wondered if maybe he was there earlier, was there faster, maybe the boy would be here with him.
Alive.
Alive. The boy would be alive. Because he can't be anything else but dead. Talon refused to think about the boy as alive. Because then he felt less bad for never keeping his promise.
“I need a drink.” And with that he stood up and left his two step sisters baffled and dissatisfied in the living room.
The bar wa packed. The usual customers are flocking the tables. Soldiers, drunks and the occasional woman crowded the tables, downing cheap ale in empty laughter.
Talon felt out of place, but he always had.
He tipped his glass to his mouth, letting the golden liquid burn its way down, but it didn't take his thoughts from him.
That boy. Dead or Alive, it didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. His Noxian blood told him so—the weak die, and the strong move on. Yet somehow he couldn't move on.
Talon was never sure why he sometimes came back to check the hideout even after he got adopted by Markus. Habit, maybe. Or maybe he just felt guilty, in some way lonely.
Then the door to the bar creaked open.
A hooded figure stepped inside, looking around curiously before their eyes settled on Talon.
Talon ignored them. Maybe they'd take the hint.
The figure didn't move. Just stood there, watching. Then without a word, they slid onto the bar stool beside him and ordered a drink.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Talon hoped the person would lose interest and leave.
Talking wasnt his style. He was more the ‘cut a throat and move on’ type.
But to his utter annoyance, the person talked.
“A master assassin. A Du Couteau,” The strangers voice was light, almost amused. Talon stiffened. Great, so they knew who he was.
He wasn't in the mood for this. But something about that voice felt… familar.
“Can I help you?” He mutters, downing his drink in one go.
The stranger let out a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Really?!” He exclaims, “after everything? You don't even recognize me? I'm hurt!”
Recognize him? Why would he…
The strangers hood shifted, and in the dum light, a pair of golden eyes gleamed back at him—yellow, sharp, familar.
Just like his own.
His pulse stuttered.
“You...” The word barely left his lips.
The stranger grinned, tilting his head.
“Me.”
It can't be.
“How—” his throat tightened. “How are you alive?!” Talon asked, “I thought you were dead!” and he did, he really did. Even if some part of him had hoped it wasn't the case, most of him already accepted it.
But usually dead people don't sit beside you in dingy bars. Dead people don't smile and call your name.
His old friend grinned at him, finding this very amusing.
“Talon, come on,” the other scoffed. “you really think Id go down that easily? With you as my teacher?”
“I got kidnapped,” the guy said— too casually, like it wasn't the worst thing Talon had heard in years.
“Soldiers spotted you as you left. They searched the hideout. I wasnt fast enough.”
Talon's fingers curled tightly around his glass. The room felt suddenly so much smaller, almost suffocating. The low hum of drunken laughter around him blurred into white noise as the strangers' words echoed in his head.
“You're not real.” Maybe he had too much to drink. Maybe it was some cruel trick.
And the strangers face twisted into something that could almost be called sympathy.
“I'm as real as I can get Talon,” He tried to reassure him. When Talon didn't respond, the man sighs, deciding to continue with his story. “They shipped me off to Ionia to fight for Noxus. A squad of kids, street rats like us i was the only one who made it. An Ionian man found me. Took me in.”
It was silent as Talon listened, even if he didn't want to listen. This man was not the boy he knew back then. That boy is dead.
“He fed me, trained me, gave me a purpose.” The man leaned his head on his hand, which looked quite weird now that Talon looked at it. The man's left hand was red with grayish armor plates on his fingers. They looked almost like claws.
The man smiled warmly at him. “But it looks like the same happened to you. Funny, isnt it? Different paths, same story. Two orphan boys, adopted by a man who pitied them. Who trained them, took care of them. And the two boys saw them as a mentor…”
Those yellow eyes met him again.
“As a father.”
That was enough.
He shoved back his chair, bolting for the door.
“Talon, wait—” The man called out, quickly trying to follow him.
“Stay the hell away from me!” Talon snapped. Because the boy was dead. He was dead, dead because of him. This isn't real.
A hand—warm, human— wrapped around his wrist.
For a brief second he was back in that alley, a small begging hand trying to get his attention.
He stopped, froze in place, in time.
“Talon, please… listen to me.”
The words were soft, a plea, but not just for forgiveness.
And Talon listened.
“I'm not mad at you.” Talon knew it was a lie. The other had every reason to hate him. Talon broke the promise.
“Liar.”
“I'm not lying!” The guy protested, a pout on his face. Talon had to turn away, because that pout—so similar to the boy he knew back then. The boy he left behind. To die.
“I broke my promise.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He turned away, jaw clenched, unwilling to let the other see the guilt in his eyes.
The guy shook his head, his hand letting go of Talon's wrist as soon as he was sure his old friend wouldn't run away again.
“I don't give a shit. For Kindred's sake, I'm just glad to see you alive!”
They found a small corner, a secluded spot where shadows swallowed them whole.
Talon had to think back of their hideout, but he knew it had been destroyed, a new building now in its place.
Talon rubbed the back of his neck, unsure on what to say next. “So…” He awkwardly mumbles, “Ionia huh…”
The guy nods. “Yeah, its my home now. The people treat me right. And hey, I even got a name now!”
“A name.” He never found out the other's actual name when they were kids, he always called him kid or buddy.
“Yeah!” The guy grins excitedly “my name is Shieda Kayn now. My master gave that name to me! Cool right?”
Shieda Kayn. Kayn. Kayn.
“Kayn…” Talon repeated it. It felt strange, but it fit. It fit him. He had to admit that.
“What a stupid name.” He grinned slightly, the old teasing tone slipping back into place.
And just like back then, Kayn pouts. “Oh come on, it's cool! Kayn is a pretty badass name if you ask me.”
“Hm? Is it?”
“Yeah it is, you're just jealous!” Kayn protests.
“Jealous of a stupid name? I think Talon suits me just fine.”
“You're an ass!”
Without thinking, Talon ruffled Kayns hair—just like he did when they were kids. The gesture was like a reflex to him, though it felt weird, as if he was supposed to do this anymore.
He smiled. A genuine smile.
“I missed you too, kid.”