The High Council of Equity was done. The raids, the skirmishes, the conflict had to stop. Representatives of Demacia and Noxus were called forward. No less than Prince Jarvan IV and Grand General Swain responded to the request. Several demands were made of the two leaders. Negotiations ensued. In the end, a tentative peace was reached. The conflict between the two city-states would stop. Chief among the agreement to ensure peace would be maintained was that Demacia would provide an eligible woman and Noxus an eligible man to be joined in matrimony.
Luxanna gave her outfit a brief tug to make sure she was presentable before pushing open the door to the throne room. Being summoned for an audience with the Prince of Demacia was an odd occurrence, even if she was a Crownguard. Entering the large chamber, decorated in the country's finest, Lux found the lack of people even odder. She could see only three figures in the room, usually a summons, particularly one for a member of the nonble houses, attracted a large crowd. Even so Luxanna Crownguard strode confidently down the plush red carpet, not showing any signs of hesitation or nerves as she approached the throne atop the dias.
She stopped exactly five steps from the dias and bowed, showing her respect to Prince Jarvan IV, who occupied the throne. He did not appear to have noticed her, appearing deep in thought. "You summoned me, my prince?" she asked, glancing up from her position. Behind Jarvan, to his left, stood the half-dragon Shyvana, who observed her with distant eyes. To Jarvan's right stood the Might of Demacia and Lux's older brother Garen. While the two had never been close, Lux found Garen's deliberate attempts to avoid eye contact with her worrying. Was something wrong? Was she being accused of something?
"Luxanna Crownguard," Jarvan started, straightening in his seat as he came out of his pensive state. "Your presence has been requested because your city needs you. Are you willing to serve Demacia to the fullest extent?"
"Of course," Lux said without hesitation. Such a question confused Luxanna, especially after her time sneaking into Noxian bases to gather intelligence. Surely Jarvan knew she was prepared to do anything for her city. Or was her loyalty being called into question? She felt the need to reaffirm her stance, to provide an answer that would be expected of her. "I am prepared to lay down my life for the good of Demacia."
Jarvan nodded. "Good. This is a mission that requires both dedication and finesse."
"Whatever this mission may be, I can handle it," Lux insisted. She glanced to the side where Garen stood again, wondering if his expression may give her some clue as to this mission. He wasn't just avoiding eye contact now, he was looking off to the side in order to avoid looking at her in general.
"A peace treaty was forged in the Institute of War, in the presence of the High Council. They seek a union between Demacia and Noxus," Jarvan started to explain. His gaze was intense, Luxanna could feel an enormous amount of pressure as he stared at her. "A provision of this treaty is that each of the warring states provide an eligible person for a union in marriage." Jarvan paused in his explanation, letting the realization of what he would be asking sink in. "Luxanna, as both a Crownguard and a Champion representing Demacia within the League of Legends, you are the most appropriate candidate for the union."
Lux froze at the revelation. She was to marry a Noxian? As the only daughter in the Crownguard family, she had always known that a marriage would be arranged for her to a young man of proper status, to a member of another noble house or possibly even Jarvan IV himself. But the thought of marrying a Noxian was never even a fleeting question. "I...understand," Lux said when she found her voice. If it would bring peace to Demacia, how could she say no? "If I may ask... who has Noxus put forth for the agreement?"
"Their decision has not yet been announced," Jarvan informed her. "Both states were to submit their decision within three days. We shall know by this evening at the latest."
"I see," Lux felt a lump begin to form in her throat. She was to agree to a marriage without knowing whom she was to marry? Faces of Noxian champions flashed through her mind. She nearly cringed when Urgot's came forth. But she reminded herself that the person chosen needn't necessarily be a champion like herself. The thought brought her little comfort as Sion also entered her mind's eye. "If my Prince will excuse me? I must prepare to travel back to the Institute, I am expected to return tonight." Though she spoke only the truth, Lux had no intention of getting ready to travel at this moment. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, to come to terms with this demand on her own.
Jarvan watched her for a moment longer, as if trying to read her very thoughts. Finally he nodded. "You may go," he said, offering her the verbal relief she desired. Luxanna bowed once more to Jarvan before turning and making her way out of the throne room.
When the door to the room was shut firmly, Lux allowed herself to sag against it for a moment, her eyes shining with tears. Marry a Noxian? How was she supposed to do this? Could she do this? She had not lied, she would be willing to lay down her life for Demacia. But marriage? It seemed almost too much to ask. She took a deep breath to calm herself and straightened up, any sign of weakness gone. She had to do what was best for Demacia... didn't she?
The three figures in the throne room remained silent for several minutes after Lux had shut the door behind her. Finally, Jarvan turned to his right. "You have kept your silence well, Garen. Please, speak your mind now."
The Might of Demacia kept his eyes averted from the throne for the moment. He knew better than to question his Prince, and by extension his King. That aside, he had never been particularly close to his younger sister. By the time she had been taken from home to train in magic, he had already been fighting for Demacia in the League of Legends. He shouldn't be so concerned with this, and yet... "Must it be her?" he asked, finally voicing his thoughts as he turned to face Jarvan.
Jarvan stood in order to meet Garen's gaze more easily. "I know you think there must be someone else who could take her place. I've thought through all the possibilities. Quinn may be one of our best, but she is common-born. Sona, Poppy and Shyvana are not of Demacian birth, we cannot ask this of them. Shauna Vayne detests anything dark, she would sooner kill whoever Noxus puts forth than marry them. And Fiora's family already has a ... questionable reputation, one that Noxus might seek to exploit." In a friendly gesture, Jarvan placed his hand on Garen's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "I am sorry, old friend, but this is the way it has to be."
"Calm yourself, Darius," Swain said in a surprisingly mellow voice, not even flinching as splinters of wood came within inches of his face. The crow on his shoulder gave an indignant caw and retreated to a corner of the ceiling, a place Darius could not reach. Swain had brought the Hand of Noxus to this small room specifically because he knew of Darius's temper. The only furniture in the small room had been the wooden chair, which was old and of no great loss.
"I will not 'calm myself'," Darius growled, voice taking a dangerous tone. "You expect me to stand for this?! To stand by and watch my brother marry some Demacian wench?" His hands were on the Grand General now, gripping him by the front of his robes.
"Are you offering to take his place?" The taunt hissed out from behind the cloth that hid Swain's lower face, almost daring him to say yes.
Darius's grip tightened on his robes, but he did nothing more. He knew better than to bring harm to Swain. He could almost imagine the twisted smile hidden behind the simple cloth as he stayed silent.
"As I thought," Swain pulled Darius's hand off with surprising force. "You are overreacting. I merely said I was going to suggest Draven for the marriage, I never said I intended for him to marry the girl."
Darius's eyes narrowed, trying to read into the man's motives. "You have a plan?"
Swain let out a raucous laugh, sounding far more like a crow than a man. "That Master Tactician always has a plan, my friend. Always."