A/N: Please note some things before reading.

First of all, this is the first fanfiction I haven't just thrown in the corner. It isn't my best writing and it was never intended to be, it was written more out fun and laziness. I hope that you won't fight my writing horrendous.

Second of all, the characters in the story will seem OC ish. These characters being from a game, it's difficult to know what they're thinking deep inside. I'd like to think Jarvan IV is someone who is commanding on the outside but on the inside is actually quite warm. For Ezreal I'd like to think he's friendly and outgoing.

Shyvana's appearance is based off her Ironscale skin with some adjustments. Since she's a half-dragon, I like the idea that she may have some dragon-like features present 24/7. You'll notice what I've decided to do later on in the story.

Lastly, Riot Games doesn't really say much about Demacia besides being a militaristic state. I'd like to think maybe they have breaks sometimes and have celebrations for seasons and all the sort! (As mentioned in the description.)

Reviews are welcome though I may be aware of some problems if you poke at my writing. Spelling mistakes may be present, I did not have anyone willing to read and look over as a second opinion.

Anyways, enjoy!

"My Lord!"

Jarvan IV, Prince of Demacia blinked, guiding his stallion to his second-in-command, Lieutenant Barluf. The man had a look of panic on his weathered face, and he was waving around a note like he would a flag.

"What is it?" He asked of his lieutenant as his horse neared the elder man. The beast snorted, stomping it's front hoof uneasily. Jarvan IV reached out his hand for the note from Barluf and he eagerly surrendered over the crisp piece of paper.

Jarvan IV stared at the folded note, wondering what words it contained that had caused Barluf to sound so frightened. The man had seen many things in his long life and Jarvan IV couldn't recall a time when he had seen Barluf even flinch when faced with disaster. If the note frightened Barluf, should he be shaking in his boots?

Nonsense.

He took a deep breath, opening the note and read:

Dear Beloved Prince of Demacia,

It has come to our attention that you are in the area of our precious town. I have sent this letter to you as a plea. As the Exemplar of Demacia, would you not wish to protect your citizens? We are in a state of crisis and are need of a great hero, and I believe that is you, great Prince.

We will offer a reward if that is what you wish, but we hope that the reward of saving us from certain doom would be reward enough. I shall even offer up my certain...qualities to you—if you wished it.

If you have not already heard there have been rumors of a dragon who has been on the lose, attacking and killing numerous innocents. The town of Valden is under siege by this terrible beast. It lays waste to our buildings, setting everything aflame. It is only a matter of time before it continues it's destruction from the ground.

I urge you to ride with great haste. There is not much time left.

With Highest Regards,

Cecily Frey.

Jarvan IV let the note fall from his hands in shock. A dragon? He had heard of such creatures but had never seen one for himself. He had hoped to encounter one on his numerous hunts but to no avail. His grip on his lance tightened, causing his knuckles to grow white. Jarvan IV urged his horse forward.

"Come! We ride with haste! A glorious battle is before us."

He saw looks of shock on the faces of his men as he bolted forward unexpectedly. The men scrambled to steady the packs as the horses rushed after him. Shouts of protest could be heard from those that were hauling the wagons. They would have stay behind, there was no way they could keep up with a galloping steed.

It didn't take long for Jarvan IV to notice signs of the attack Cecily Frey had mentioned. There were panicked cries that could be heard in the distance along with an inhuman roar.

"What's that horrible noise?" Asked one of the men, his voice shaking with unmasked fear.

"Get a hold of yourself." Commanded Jarvan IV, shooting a glance at the man who had spoken. He instantly shrunk under the prince's hard gaze. He saluted and nodded. "Yes sir..."

Jarvan IV could see the smoke in the distance and the smell of sulfur overwhelmed him. His stomach churned as more screams and another roar echoed in the distance. His horse nickered uneasily, slowing despite his urges for the creature to speed forward.

Jarvan IV dismounted from the stallion when they were in walking distance of Valden. He signaled to his men to do the same, his armor clinking as he moved. He held his spear at point as he beheld the sight of a dragon.

The creature was impressive, large and imposing. Each stroke of its leathery wings produced a drum like sound that rang in his ears painfully. It circled over Valden with an almost lazy-like

grace, a torrent of flame escaping from between its teeth every so often. In the sunlight its blood red scales glittered, only to be rivaled by the most precious of jewels.

The scales looked to be as solid as rocks, but the underbelly of the beast looked soft and fleshy. He nodded to one of the various arches and pointed to the belly of the beast.

"Try and aim for the belly, it looks vulnerable."

"Aye, my Lord." Agreed the archer he had indicated to, who began shouting orders to the other archers. They unsheathed their bows and plucked arrows from their quivers.

The dragon unleashed another torrent of flame.

"On my mark!" Shouted the lead archer who held up a hand.

The archers drew back their bows and waited.

The dragon glided now, letting the updrafts keep it afloat. It banked to the left, exposing it's underbelly to the archers for a clear shot.

"Fire!" The archer cried, bringing his hand down in an arc-like motion.

All Jarvan IV could hear was the twang of bows as the arrows soared through the air. The archers did not hesitate and reached for more arrows, preparing another shot if needed. The dragon did not notice the arrows at first but before one of them could hit—it turned.

Flames engulfed the flying projectiles, turning them to ash.

"Fire!"

More arrows. The dragon veered toward them, letting forth another roar.

"Fragile creatures." The dragon spoke as it drew closer. Jarvan IV realized he had misjudged the creatures size as it hovered above them. It blotted out the light of the sun, floating before them as if it were an avenging angel.

The men were in shock, but Jarvan IV was not. He threw his lance, using every ounce of strength he had. The weapon flew threw the air with less grace but found its target with ease. The lance sank into the flesh of the dragon's underbelly, causing it to roar in agony.

Blood rained down upon them as the dragon tried to keep itself afloat. The lance was buried deep into the dragon, most likely its gut. Jarvan IV would have rather aimed for the heart but it would have been a missed shot.

He watched in satisfaction and horror as the dragon cried out in pain, its wings going limp as it plummeted to the ground. Jarvan IV and his men scrambled out of the way as the creature landed with a loud thud. It lifted its head and whimpered.

And what he thought was a dragon slowly started to change.

The dragon's size diminished before his eyes. It lifted it's head that seemed to become more human as each second passed. It's taloned paws became fingers with nails bitten down to their stubs. His lance was buried deep into a human belly which was overflowing with blood. What was before them was a human girl.

But—a human girl with horns on her head and reptilian eyes.

"I didn't...didn't mean to," The girl wheezed, clutching her stomach where the lance protruded. "They...they killed my father. Mother is dead...drove me out of town," She moaned and took a gulp of air. "Please."

"Kill her while you have the chance!" One of his men called.

Jarvan IV stepped forward and knelt down next to the human-dragon female. "What are you?" He whispered.

"Please," She moaned and closed her eyes. Her skin was shiny with sweat. "Kill me."

Her voice sounded so defeated. Jarvan IV didn't know what came over him, but he suddenly didn't want to let the girl die.

"Get a healer." He demanded.

"What?" Someone asked in disbelief.

"Did I stutter?" His voice grew to a yell. "Get. A. Healer."

He placed his hand on the girl's forehead. Her skin felt like fire.

"Hold on." He murmured.

The girl frowned, opening her eyes again. "Why?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Why indeed? He wondered. Why save this girl who killed so many innocents? Certainly she deserved to die.

Her eyelids drooped, another moan escaping from her lips. Something in him wanted to protect her and he didn't know why. He should kill her. He should show her no mercy.

But he knew he would do no such thing.