Forbidden

Chapter Six

Right now, I'm not really sure of where this story is going to lead. Right now, I'm just expanding on the lore. If you have any suggestions, leave in the reviews! (:

Chapter 6:

Garen strapped on his armor as Katarina tied her black cloak around her neck. The two hadn't said more than a few words since Jarvan had dismissed them from his study. Both their hearts ached with the want and need for eachother: Garen wanted to hold and comfort her, Katarina wanted to continue their shower ordeal. But, neither of them acted upon those instincts and feelings because it was forbidden.

Katarina looked over to where Garen stood, slapping his breast plate into place, then his shoulder plates, and finally, securing his cape on the back of his neck. Demacians wore so much armor; she wondered how they could even move. A smile curved across her lips as she studied the blue, white, and gold metal clad on the Might of Demacia.

Garen caught that smile. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly and straightened the shoulders of her cloak to look like she was busy. Garen shrugged and went back to securing his armor. "How do you haul that around?"

"My armor? Years and years of practice," he replied and reached for his sword. Immediately, Katarina froze as he brought it around. It had just occurred her that she was unarmed; where were her blades? Suddenly, she scouted around the area; the last time she'd seen them had been here.

"Your blades are under the plant on my balcony. Your dagger is still in my shower," he informed her as he saw her roaming eyes.

Without a second thought, Katarina dived for his balcony. Garen caught onto what she was doing – or more of the possibility of what she was doing – and lunged after her. As nimble as she was, he caught up to her quickly and grabbed her around her skinny waist. With a thrust of her elbow backward, Katarina loosened his hold but he spun her around and pushed her against his left wall. Her chest was heaving, as normal, and Garen's bangs blew gently across his forehead.

"I don't trust you," they said at the same time.

Garen sighed. "Someone has to get those blades."

"It won't be you," Katarina informed him and attempted to sneak out from under his arm. But, he pinned her to the wall to her dismay.

"Out of everyone, I should be the one you trust enough to get them," Garen said and looked at her softly. Out of everything she had been through, she knew how easy it was to double-cross. Garen didn't strike her as the type to do so, though, so she sighed in defeat.

"Go," she huffed as Garen released her. She fell back against the wall, air rushing into her lungs after finally being able to breathe without armor pressing down on her.

Garen noticed her emerald eyes followed him as he carefully opened the doors to the balcony. He did every movement slowly so she knew he wasn't going to betray her trust. With a moment's hesitation, he ducked around the corner, and she met it with standing in the doorway of the balcony, eyes sonly on him. Garen backed-up to where he kicked the blades the following night, leaned down, and gently picked up the metal plates. Her breathing stopped as he slowly brought them over to her. She stanced, her heart racing; ready to attack him if he pulled anything stupid. But, Garen did nothing of the sort.

Instead, he handed her the blades without a thought of dismay. She snatched them, happy to feel the familiarity of the handles. Garen noticed how much they meant to her: they were like her lifeline: just like his sword was to him. She took a deep breath and looked at Garen to say thank you, but the words never left her mouth.