"It is all in the King's name." her father had said.
"It is the greatest honour you could be bestow." her mother had said.
Those were the two sentences that would forever change her life and haunt her memories. That was the logic her parents believed so strongly that they would send their only daughter to enlist in the military, to serve their nation.
So they came for her when she was no younger than twelve. Only a mere child, barely even a teenager. But they didn't care.
No one did. Not her parents who would sacrifice everything they had, including their own child, for their nation. Not the soldiers who had been so impassive when they ripped her from her family. Not her supervisors who cared less about the poor girl and more for her magical abilities.
What would Garen have done if he was there and not far away on a distant battlefield? Would he defend her and bravely oppose their parents? Or would he bid his little sister goodbye and not even blink an eye?
She used to believe that Garen would never let her be taken away from her home. He was her big brother. Her hero.
But maybe it was the bitterness she still felt against her parents that had spread inside her. Her doubts began to form. Garen would not have done anything. He would have watched her being unwillingly taken away and he would have no protests, because even he would sacrifice anything for their country.
And with that thought in mind, she would cry herself to sleep.
Sometimes she would wonder if it was all in her head, if she was making a big deal out of nothing. Children in Demacia were enlisted into the army all the time. Maybe her family was right. It was an honour to fight for the king, an honour to fight for her nation. She should be proud. She was the youngest of all the recruits, but she was the best.
The best. She was a Crownguard and hell, she was proud to be one.
Then those nights would come, when she longed for family. Those nights when she longed for home.
She was not spoiled.
She did not miss her satin sheets or silk clothing. No she simply missed her life. She missed being a naive child who marveled at the world with amazement and joy, rather than despair.
Even though she now knew her family would give her up in a heartbeat, she still missed the illusion of it all.
She missed the illusion of her loving family who would have battled thousands of beast just to keep her safe. An illusion she had trusted when she was much younger, one that now cruelly mocked her.
And she would remain sleepless for those nights. And the weeks that followed.
Maybe she should have been like her brother, strong and proud.
He had not cried when the military came for him, but she did. She did not want her brother to leave and die at war. But maybe she should not have cried for her brother when he was taken.
No one cried for her when she was taken.
Or maybe her parents had when she left. Maybe they regretted it when their house became empty and void of her light. Maybe they had begged for their daughter back.
She laughed to herself. Her parents would have never done it. They would have moved on with their lives barely noticing her absence.
Why would they?
When the military officials came to their house, they had sold off their daughter like she was less than a slave.
That was a day she would never forget. Never.
And perhaps what she hated the most about her parents was not that they had not even asked her, but that even the military officials were hesitant to take a recruit as young as her. They were reluctant, not because they feared she would be a waste of time –no she was the best there was- but because she was just a child. She was at an age when she needed her family the most.
But her parents did not care. They squashed the military officials' reluctance with their pride and honour. The Crownguards were forever loyal to the country and to their king.
And she had collapsed in grief when she heard that. She had cursed at her family name as she locked herself in her room. She fortified her room against anyone from entering.
She would take no visitors, they would take her away the moment she opened the door.
She would take no food, the bitter taste of betrayal in her mouth was enough.
"Luxanna, stop this madness." her father had said.
And maybe she was mad. Maybe she was even insane, but she did not care.
The starvation, the screams, the tears. It was not enough to stop her parents. None of it was enough to change the mind of her parents.
Footsteps came one day. Heavy and thumping, not like those of her parents or the servants in the manor. A soldier's footsteps. She had been so relieved. She had thought it was her brother there to save her.
She was wrong.
The military had come. They had broken down her door, ripping it off the hinges, and they had grabbed the crying girl inside the room. They had dragged her out as she wailed and screamed like a child because that was what she was, only a mere child.
She had not looked at her parents. Her hair dangled in front of her face covering the tears and her vision. But if she had looked, she would have seen the serene and peaceful look on her parents' face. And if she had looked harder and closer, she would see only one emotion that her parents showed.
Disappointment.
Sometimes she would blame herself. Maybe if she was weaker, her parents would not have sent her away, the military would not have accepted her. Maybe if she had gone to school like she was supposed to, she would not have heard the conversation, the conversation would not have happened, and she would have stayed.
She had not been home for years. Was it even still her home?
She was serving her country.
But it was pointless now, was it not?
In the name of her family.
The very people who had given her up.
In the name of Demacia.
The very country that had taken away her childhood innocence.
In the name of the king.