Desperate Times
a League of Legends fanfic
Prologue: A Dark Night and A Darker Warning
The rain lashed through the night towards the tower windows like arrows, almost as if Demacia herself was under siege. Prince Jarvan Lightshield IV stood in his parlour and gazed out across his beloved city, lost in thought, he had heard disturbing rumours, and the small letter that he held was more disturbing by far. Just the idea that Jericho Swain was worried, actually worried, about rumours of some cult called the "Black Rose" was enough to send a chill up Jarvan's spine.
As he stared into the night, he became aware of the ticking. If he hadn't heard it so many times on the Fields of Justice, he would have mistaken it for his own clock. "A little late for a social visit, isn't it Zilean?" Jarvan turned towards the old man who had seemingly appeared from nowhere.
The old man sat cross-legged in the air, suspended by some form of magic. His extremely long white beard flowed as if blown by some ethereal wind, and the massive Clock that was bound to the man continued to tick away. Zilean gazed at Jarvan through eyes lined with wisdom, seeming to size the young prince up, as if testing to make sure he would pass some test. "My apologies your majesty, however I come with dire warnings."
Jarvan's eyes narrowed, "do tell."
"Demacia is about to face its most dangerous foe yet, not through the league, but from her own heart and soul." Jarvan stared at the old man, Demacia had fought in many wars against all manner of foe and had never once fallen, to be told as fact that something could threaten the City State from within was, surprising, to say the least.
"How can I face this threat my friend, what must I do to protect Demacia?"
"You will be a centre piece in how destiny plays out, however, Your best friend may yet become Demacia's downfall or its savoir, but only you will decide that."
"Garen and I have faced enough challenges to know that neither of us will fail."
At this the old man's gaze grew sad, almost pitiful. "Trust me my boy, I have seen all the possible futures that are to come, and none of them bode well." Zilean floated over to Jarvan and put a wizened hand on the young man's shoulder, "I wish that there was a way to prevent the events that are about to unfold, so that many people won't experience the darkness that is rising, but there isn't."
Jarvan turned away from the old man and looked down over the city, taking in every detail, the towers, the houses, the sound of the rain, and even the ticking of the clock which seemed to be getting faster and louder. "So, Demacia is to be tested. Like she has a thousand times before, she will prevail. Know that I will die long before this city-state falls."
Jarvan could almost feel the kind, sad smile that spread across Zilean's face. "I am glad that your conviction remains so steady, you will need it. My time here grows short young Lightshield, know that I will do what I can to help, even if it doesn't look like it at first. Now prepare yourself; they are coming already." The ticking grew louder until it consumed everything around, then it just vanished, replaced by the steady tick of the old grandfather clock that stood in the far corner, and an echo that quietly persisted.
Jarvan was just trying to make sense of what his guest had said when a new sound appeared; footsteps, several people in armour coming down the hall towards the parlour at a fast pace.
Jarvan turned in time to see the first guard enter the room, as more spilled in the soldier threw a stiff salute, "My lord, one of the mages sensed an intruder in here, we were worried you may have been in danger."
Jarvan motioned for the man to stand down, every nerve in his battle trained body suddenly on edge. Something wasn't right. "Even if there was an intruder in my inner sanctum, did you really need to rouse every guard in the castle to check?" Then it hit him, Jarvan made a point to know every guard in the house by name, he didn't recognise any of these men. "Who are you really?"
The guard suddenly laughed, and said in a woman's voice, "well, well, You are quite quick aren't you your majesty?" The false guard's entire body suddenly shimmered, seeming to melt away from the woman underneath it.
She was tall and skinny, wearing a strange dress that extended down to her shins, but only covered one leg. Draped across her shoulders was an elegant cape, and a resplendent crown rested on her head. Jarvan felt his blood run cold as he suddenly recognised her.
"LeBlanc. What are you doing here?"
The woman smiled sweetly, "Oh you know, setting up the pieces to take back what is rightfully mine. Unfortunately for you, you're in the way of my plans so, you'll just have to go wont you?" As LeBlanc spoke, the men who had entered the room with her began to carefully move towards the Prince with swords drawn.
Time seemed to slow as Jarvan weighed his options. Backing away from the soldiers he looked around for a weapon, as he did Jarvan noticed that the clock seemed to be getting louder again. Remembering Zilean's words, Jarvan suddenly understood the old man's meaning. He turned away from the guards and vaulted over the desk that sat beside one of the windows.
LeBlanc noticed the ticking as well, looking around she cast out her senses magically just in time to feel the spell finish its incubation period.
The explosion rocked the entire castle and was heard and seen over a kilometre away. The blast ripped a sizeable chunk out of the tower and cast debris out into the city and into the river below. As citizens looked up in shock and horror, none of them knew that history was set on a course towards darkness, and Demacia would never be the same again.