League of Legends Series

Garen x Katarina

The war had come to a mutual truce between the two factions, and Garen had long since retreated to a nearby village, his men in need of food, rest, and medical attention. He himself was in a rather rough shape after leading the assault for days on end, he hadn't gotten proper sleep in weeks, and the Might of Demacia had his limits. 

"Commander here is the report, troops accounted for, supplies, convoys, caravans, weapon shipments, as well as ally camps and possible enemy movements have all been relayed. The prince also sends his regards." 

"Thank you, captain," he gruffly stated, thumbing through the manilla folder containing sensitive information. He couldn't be bothered to look, though, he was tired, sore, and simply put, he was impatient, and none of the men understood why. 

Garen stopped by the tavern, men saluting him as he walked through, soldiers and ordinary folks alike frequenting the tables. He tucked the folder under his arm and tossed a generous pouch of coins to the Innkeeper. "For all your trouble." They had only arrived a few hours ago, but the soldiers had wasted no time getting stoned. The tavern was rowdy as the commander took a seat at the bar, ordering an ale. Like most men, he enjoyed drinking, but as the highest-ranking officer on sight, god forbid he be caught drunk. 

The soldiers sang of his bravery, and Garen looked on with amusement, downing his drink slowly, his gaze lingering on the stairs leading to the few vacant rooms up above. 

"The Might of Demacia, so fierce, so brave! In him, we trust, in him, we lay our swords! He conquered the darkness, led us to victory, and killed those sorry sons of bitches!" They were miserably off tune, and the commander chuckled, rising to toast his fellow men. 

"Sober up you lot, we're still at war!" The men cheered downing their last drinks, and Garen smirked, glancing at the subtle movements in the shadows. He flicked a gold coin to the Innkeeper, motioning to the stairs, and the man shot him a grateful nod. As the commander stood, he grabbed a bottle of ale, the soldiers hollering for him to stay and have a bit of fun. 

"No sleep for the wicked!" one man shouted, and Garen gave a hearty laugh waving the men off as he took to climbing the stairs. His grin faded as he reached the top and finding the nearest open room. He stepped in closing the door behind him, and dragged a chair up against the handle; he would prefer not to be disturbed tonight. 

"It's quite cold out tonight. You don't need to stay outside," Garen said. With an agile body, the assassin slipped in through the window, landing like a feather against the loose floorboards. "Elegant as always." 

"Why do I always have to be the one to sneak in?" Katarina huffed, tugging on the hood to reveal her reddened cheeks, the biting cold still lingering on her pale skin. Garen shot her an amused look, and his grin only grew, the image vivid in his mind. 

"Ah, yes, because I am so widely recognized for my stealth tactics." The red-haired assassin scowled and brushed him away. 

"You'd be spotted in under ten seconds."

"Oh I don't doubt it, this body was not meant for sneaking around, you know?" 

"Is that so, then what is this?" she mused, pointing between the two of them.

"Hiding in plain sight." The two regarded each other with warm eyes, they had missed their playful banters, and taking a step forward, Garen embraced the Noxian woman, going as far as hoisting her into his arms. He had missed her familiar scent and silky hair. The commander knew how much he was asking of her when they met like this. Her absence would be noted, and it called for a lot of caution on her part. It was dangerous, and while their relationship was dear to his heart, he knew one day it may cost her life.