Um, I had to fix some wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff in the last chapter. Jarvan said they found Vayne a few days after Garen's exile and while that is technically true, I wanted it to be, more specifically, earlier that day. So yah. Sorry everyone I dun messed up lol.

Revolution by Design

It was difficult at first, dealing with house arrest and the anti-magic cuffs, but Luxanna Crownguard was far from inactive. Usually reverse engineering magic came easily to her, but the cuffs had just enough techmaturgical workings inside it to slow her down for a couple of days; the tracking device inside had been especially troublesome to work around and tamper with, but once altered and combined with the ditzy personality she faked for the public, the world was still very open to her. Even though the mage was once a spy for Demacia, when she put on her silly act, even the soldiers guarding her didn't take her seriously. Degrading, perhaps, but it had its uses.

As such, she was able to spend much of her time in the capital city's library brushing up on the delicate inner workings of the Demacian government, animatedly telling the guards she wanted to be a council member, just like her mother. This was far from the truth, but if there was anything special operations had taught her, it was how to lie, though, after a few days in her mother's presence, she might have said anything to get out of the house.

The mage dreaded spending time with Lilia, even if it wasn't as terrible as anticipated. Granted, the Crownguard matron didn't speak to her for the first two days after learning the truth about the ordeal, which helped significantly, but that didn't stop her mother from huffing or moping around the manor in a silence that spoke volumes. However, the days following saw Lux develop a new appreciation for her mother as Lilia pressed her for details, searching for something, anything within the story that might exonerate her children.

The mage might have just told her mother the same tired tale over and over if Jarvan hadn't approached her a few days after the incident with an idea to supplant himself upon the Demacian throne and overhaul Demacia's standards. Technically it could be considered treason, but Jarvan was already the next in line; they were just going to hasten the process slightly.

Step one was to win Lilia's sympathies and plant the seeds of King Jarvan III's incompetence, the most difficult part, in her opinion. Her mother, like many older Demacians, tended to be rigid in thought, though her father's death she'd seemed to soften her over the years. Even so, Mrs. Crownguard was still highly regarded within the Demacian legislature, an influential member even, making her perfect for what Jarvan had in mind.

Lux knew the success of the entire operation rested on her shoulders. It wasn't enough just to tell Lilia what happened, she had to sell it. Downplay their actions, emphasize the consequences, play into the maternal instinct that existed somewhere under that hard Demacian shell. It would snowball soon enough as long as Lilia came to all the right conclusions herself.

Lux couldn't help the crafty smile the crossed her face as one of the Vanguard soldiers knocked on her bedroom door and announced the Prince's arrival. Jarvan III thought an army was power? No, words were power.

"How is my favorite Crownguard?" Jarvan IV greeted.

"Isn't that spot reserved for my brother?" she quipped, joining him in the hall.

Escorting her down the stairs to the manor's study, Jarvan grinned, "Only when he's around." With a wave of his hand, the soldiers left the room.

Lux rolled her eyes as she fell into the couch. "Speaking of Garen, did you see him when you were at the League?"

"Sure did, and he wrote the letter," he stated, brandishing the folded paper stashed in his bag and passing it to the Crownguard girl for her inspection. Her blue eyes scanned it quickly and, seeing that it was as she dictated, folded it, setting it beside her.

"Looks good," she nodded and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "That will be helpful in getting mother on our side, especially coming from Garen."

Jarvan leaned forward, his chin propped against his hand and an uncharacteristically grim look on his face. "Do you think I should be doing this? Is this the right way?" he asked, searching her sharp eyes. "You're brilliant, Lux. If you think it's a bad idea, tell me now."

Luxanna allowed her smile to fade and her brow to furrow as she hesitated in answering. Jarvan was one of the few Demacians who recognized her aptitude and treated her as she deserved, actually listened to her. With a single word, she could alter the fate of the man before her and she briefly felt the same giddiness that coursed through her during the most dangerous reconnaissance missions; unlike in her youth, when everything was taken from her by force, she now had the power to irrevocably change everything.

Her beloved Demacia...

"Yes," she murmured. "It will work. If he won't listen to reason like you say, then this is the option we must take. And I will make sure that it works."

The Prince nodded and relaxed against the cushions. "Why are you going along with this anyway?" he questioned. "It was only an idea but you really seem to want to do this."

Twining her fingers together and clasping them behind her head in a girlish manner, Lux let her radiant smile assume its familiar position on her face. "I love Demacia, I really do. But she's going down a bad path and you, and I, and every citizen in the nation can see it." Her eyes hardened and her smile seemed to lose its warmth as she finished, "We have the power to make it better, so we have the responsibility too. I could make it so children wouldn't have to join the military..."

Her voice had begun to crack and Jarvan gave her a sympathetic look, but before he could speak, Lux, her mask once again fixed firmly on her face, grinned, "But you're doing it for her right? Your lady love?"

A booming laugh escaped him. "Lady love? That's a little outdated. But... yes," he admitted.

"So romantic," she giggled. "Just like Garen."

The Prince wrinkled his nose. "If you say so."

"It would seem LeBlanc is declaring war," Swain muttered to himself as the League broadcast of her speech ended. "She honestly believes this will work?"

His musings were cut short as a firm knock on the door announced Darius's arrival. "Grand General, what will Noxus's response be?" he questioned bluntly, his empty hand twitching at his side for the handle of his axe.

"Nobody will control Noxus," Swain replied, his tone even. "Not even the League. We did not take control of the nation by chance. We took it because we are the strongest. The time approaches when we will demonstrate to the world the power of Noxus."

Darius was impassive as ever as he stated, "There are those in Noxus who still do not support your ascension to power. If you do not act soon, they might think you... weak for allowing this to happen."

The hint of threat was clear enough to Swain, who merely laughed. "Then I would challenge those who question my abilities as I challenged Darkwill." The burly soldier seemed to accept his words with a nod, so the Tactician continued, "Has Draven returned to Noxus?"

"He will be here shortly, General," he replied, saluting and turning on heel to leave the office. "I will make sure he sees you right away."

Once alone, Jericho rested his forehead against his fingertips and let out a tired sigh. He'd never met anyone that matched his cunning until LeBlanc entered his life, and being on the receiving end of her antics was more tiring than he could have imagined. But her actions now seemed so out of place. What was he not seeing? Did she actually make a mistake by moving too early?

"Have no fear, Draven's here!"

Insufferable.

"Draven," he acknowledged, standing to greet the Glorious Executioner and his brother as they shut the door behind them. "I wanted to talk to you about your previous orders."

The cocky man flashed his characteristic smirk. "Kill the DuCouteau's? I didn't even get the chance to go back for Katarina after Urgot fucked her up."

Darius sighed at his brother's lack of propriety, but Swain simply waved it away. "Yes, indeed. I'm changing the plan slightly."

"Draven still gets to kill them, right?" the moustached man pressed, earning an elbow in the back from his brother, who hissed, "Shut up."

"Don't worry, Draven. I want you to have your moment," Jericho promised. "But I need you to wait."

With a frown, the larger of the brothers stated, "Sir, she's in the Institute infirmary. Weak. It would be simple to kill her off now."

"I don't want to kill a cripple," Draven interjected. "That's boring."

"Quiet!" Swain hissed. "Trust me, she will not remain a cripple long. You'll get your show, in front of the biggest crowd you can imagine."

The Executioner furrowed his brow skeptically. "And how do you know that?"

His near infinite patience wearing thin, the Grand General shook his head and replied, "I am called the Master Tactician for a reason. Noxus will not sit idly by as the Institute of War declares martial law, so it will be for many other city-states. We will be ready and we will be the ones to prosper."

The brothers were quiet momentarily, until Draven asked, "So... there's going to be a war?"

Neither could see the sinister grin forming behind Swain's collar, but his tone made it evident enough. "It is extremely likely, yes. Be ready for it. Dismissed."

Each gave a salute, Darius's crisp and Draven's exaggerated, and turned to leave. Once a safe distance from the General's office, the Hand of Noxus snarled, "Show some respect for the Grand General, would you?"

"Ah, shutup, Darius," he muttered dismissively. "Do you think what he said is true? Will there be a war?"

Darius heaved a sigh, his age showing in the lines clearly etched on his face and the tired darkness under his eyes. "Probably. Swain hasn't been wrong about anything yet." Always fighting, always killing. As much as he enjoyed it, sometimes even he wanted nothing more than to sleep.

For the younger of the Blood Brothers, the prospect of war had the opposite effect: His eyes seemed to shine as he grinned, "Then it'll be the perfect chance to share Draven with the rest of the world."

Darius resisted the urge to punch his brother in his cocky face. Often, he wondered if it was his own fault Draven was like this, coming from the time when they were starving boys on the streets of Noxus; he'd shielded his younger brother as best he could from the cruelties of the world, filled the boy's head with fantasies while he killed and threatened and stole. Back then, he was sure every day was going to be their last so he'd tried to make it bearable for Draven, but by his own strength they survived, and the elder put his talents to a better use in the army. Darius had hoped his brother would carve out a respectable living in the military as well, but Draven didn't even make it six months. "Too boring," he claimed and went on to become the showy, incorrigible executioner of Noxus.

Yes, the people of Noxus loved him for his bloody shows, but Darius knew, for all his brother's skill in the art of killing, he wouldn't make it in a war; he didn't respect it, didn't believe he could really die. The soldier shook his head, and clapped his heavy hand on his brother's shoulder without a word. They were men now, and it had stopped being his job to protect Draven a long time ago.

"So who isn't here?" Katarina demanded, scanning the crammed room. Garen squirmed uncomfortably, nearly stepping on Cassiopeia's tail in the process and receiving a glare from Talon next to her. On the other side of the assassin's bed Riven stood in front of the window, the setting sun behind her silhouetting her body. Her arms were crossed and her hard eyes shifted suspiciously to Nasus beside her. The canine creature was hunched so the room could accommodate his large frame, and cowering slightly at his feet the yordle summoner Octavius who aided him in the Archives.

"Everyone we could get on short notice is here," Garen chimed.

"Good," she nodded. "Ok everyone who is here knows something about what's been happening so far, and I brought you here to discuss some very important details so we can make a plan."

Talon sighed, "Well what do you have in mind? It's not like we know any more now than we did a few days ago, and you're in the hospital."

Nasus's flowing voice responded in kind, "It does sound rather hopeless, Miss DuCouteau."

But in spite of their protests, Katarina let out a ferocious grin. "That's what you think. I haven't even gotten to tell you the new things yet! So, has everyone heard what happened in Demacia?" As she anticipated everyone except Garen shook their heads. "Well, a mysterious summoner leaked very personal information about Demacian Champions to the king right? Very much illegal, and done under the pretense of avoiding a Rune War." Looking momentarily at Garen, she added, "Specifics aside, Demacia ended up pulling four of their strongest Champions from the League roster."

"That doesn't make sense," Cassiopeia interrupted. "Losing League presence could provoke a war."

"This is true," Nasus murmured. "Why would the King of Demacia believe such a thing?"

All eyes glanced momentarily to Garen, who shrugged, "Jarvan would be the one to ask about that."

"Let me tell you why," Katarina interjected. "Vayne told me, the source was so reliable, he would have no reason to disbelieve it."

A concerned expression was growing on Cassiopeia's face, but Talon rolled his eyes and remarked, "Who could be that important?"

"A High Councilor, that's who," she responded, receiving shocked looks from everyone in the room. "Vessaria Kolminye."

With a solemn shake of her head, Riven finally spoke up, cutting straight to the point. "That is terrible, but what does this have to do with LeBlanc? She's the real reason we're here, right?"

"Wait a second," Garen blurted. "Did Vayne try to confront High Councilor Kolminye about this?"

The Exile shot him a hard look for his interruption, but Katarina, a confused look on her face, replied, "Yeah, she came and talked to me right before Urgot attacked me. Said she was going to get answers from Vessaria herself."

"Well, she's dead now," he explained. "Jarvan said they found her in Demacia this morning. So if she turned up dead after confronting Vessaria, who just declared martial law..."

A hush settled about the room as each of the Champions absorbed the new information, until finally Cassiopeia ventured a quiet, "Then Vessaria might be working with LeBlanc?"

Katarina bit her lip nervously, but nodded. "It's possible, right? LeBlanc wanted power, the Institute has power."

"More possible corruption within the Institute of War," Nasus lamented. "Runeterra approaches war now because of this. The cycle of Life and Death would be completely unbalanced."

"We can't just make baseless accusations though," Cassiopeia reminded. "It's pretty telling to us, that Vayne's death isn't a coincidence and LeBlanc might be somehow linked to Vessaria. But we need proof. Something that really shows LeBlanc had her sights set on the Institute."

Another moment of silence descended on the group, and as Garen caught Katarina's gaze in his own, he was reminded of their mission in Noxus and their foray into LeBlanc's office. "Her journal," he stated, and Katarina's eyes sparked in remembrance. "I think Jarvan has a copy of LeBlanc's journal. That might be proof enough."

"We're going about this all wrong," Talon suddenly spoke. "We don't need proof. Who are we going to present it to that isn't involved? The most powerful person in Valoran is corrupted and no one is going to go against her for fear of retribution. We don't know which or how many summoners she has on her side." His fists clenched at his side and his red eyes flashed defiantly as he continued, his voice lowered. "We know the truth, so we make the call. We go after Vessaria, and we don't tell anyone linked to the Institute in any way."

"You're right, we don't know how many people could be against us. Could be the whole Institute for all we know," Katarina acknowledged. "But somehow I don't think the six and a half people in this room could take on all this. We need allies."

"We are not likely to receive any help from Noxus," Riven pointed out. "They will side with Swain, who we know is allied with LeBlanc."

Garen shook his head likewise. "I think Jarvan, Lux, and Shyvana will help, especially when they hear about what Vessaria did. Jarvan might be able to convince some soldiers and other Champions, but the King won't go for it."

"What about other city-states?" Nasus asked. "Vessaria has essentially declared a martial rule over Valoran. There are those who will not take kindly to this and perhaps be willing to fight her, especially when told about the truth of her actions."

Tapping her clawed fingers lightly against her chin, Cassiopeia murmured, "Whole governments are unlikely to help right away. The risk is too high, because if we lose... well, they have too much at stake. But we could likely convince individual Champions to fight with us. Technically, Champions are supposed to do what's good for Valoran."

"And Champions tend to be paragons of their craft," Riven added, locking eyes with the serpentine woman across from her. "If enough Champions sided with us, it would be like having an army."

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Talon huff, crossing his arms. "We could try for stealth, get her alone-"

"Vayne tried that and it didn't work," Katarina interrupted. The hooded assassin shot a withering glare at her, but she pressed on. "I don't want to risk losing anyone in this operation if it can be avoided. It would be better if we were all together."

Shifting her red gaze to the darkening sky, Riven sighed, "So how will we recruit allies? We can't just go around advertising this sort of thing."

"For the utmost secrecy, I would suggest we simply explain our case to the Champions most likely to aid us," Nasus proposed. "I am well versed in many Champions' backgrounds, and..." For a moment his eyes had a distant look to them, as if lost in time, but he shook his head and finished, "I have some skill in judging people's character, though not as much as my brother once had. I can compile a list of those Champions, and divide them amongst each of us. We will need to be quick from here on though, so that summoners to not glean this information through the mind meld on the Fields of Justice."

"I will write a letter to Jarvan and my sister," Garen claimed, before turning to the mousy Octavius, who'd been sitting in absolute silence the entire meeting. It's not who he would have picked, but if Nasus trusted him... "You can do the sending spell, right?"

The yordle bit his lip and murmured, "I've only done it a few times. Always with help."

"Can you at least send yourself?" Garen pressed. "To Demacia and back?"

"I think so," Octavius replied, looking suspiciously at the soldier. "You want me to take the letter?"

The Demacian nodded in the affirmative, stating, "It'll be safer that way. No risk of it getting lost somehow. You put it directly in my sister's hands, no one else's."

"See, we're off to a great start," Katarina grinned. "But, given our less than pristine backgrounds, Cass, Talon, and I might have a harder time convincing people to do anything with us." Looking between Riven, Garen, and Nasus she stated, "It'll probably end up being you three who do most of the recruiting. Successfully anyway."

"Fair enough," Riven declared, pushing away from the window and brushing past the group toward the door. "Since we have decided what to do, I will await word from Nasus." Snapping her hand in a tight salute, the Exile added, "Forever strong," before leaving.

"Now that's nostalgic," the red-headed Noxian smirked.

Beckoning his assistant with his giant hand, the canine Champion stepped around the room with surprising agility for a figure his size. "We shall begin work immediately and report as soon as possible. Recover quickly, Miss DuCouteau."

Once out of earshot, Talon muttered, "He's a weird one."

"Well I like him," Cassiopeia declared. "He's a gentleman." The hooded assassin scowled.

Ignoring the bickering behind him, Garen knelt beside Katarina and took her hand in his. "Talon and Cassiopeia want to spend some time with you, so I'm going to my room."

"And you'll come back tomorrow?" she asked, earning a skeptical look from the soldier.

"Do you have to ask?" he grinned.

Talon made a sound of disgust and grabbed the back of Garen's shirt. "Get out already, please. I'm gonna choke on all the bullshit."

Katarina laughed and gave his hand a squeeze, her green eyes shining. "See you tomorrow."

"Definitely." With a nod to Talon and a murmured, "Good night," to Cassiopeia, the Demacian collected his weapon from the Infirmary's front desk and made his way down the dimly lit corridors.

Upon unlocking the door to his room, he noticed his now cleaned clothes folded neatly on the edge of the unused bed, and an unaddressed envelope resting atop the bundle bearing the wax seal of the Institute of War. A feeling of anxiety formed in his gut but he ripped it open anyway, skimming the elegant handwriting.

24 May, 22CLE

To Mister Garen Crownguard:

Changes were made to your Champion status and you have been removed from the official League roster on 22 May, 22CLE. Your presence is requested tomorrow, 25 May 22CLE at 10am within my office in order to discuss these changes and, if necessary, make arrangements for enlistment. Please note: In order to continue your stay in the Institute of War, you will be required to submit to new Champion inductions, including an official Judgment and if accepted, report for summoning for the League.

Regards,

Kiersta Mandrake

High Councilor of the Institute of War

The fact that he wasn't technically a Champion anymore completely slipped his mind with the events of the past two days. The Judgment process was unpleasant, and mind meld was risky with the information he just learned, but he needed what the Institute had to offer. Kiersta wanted to discuss it first though; perhaps he could strike some kind of deal with her to avoid the Judgment. Obviously he was proven a reliable Champion, it shouldn't even be necessary.

If she delved too far, saw too much somehow and wanted to confront him, he felt certain he could take her one on one. To protect Katarina, he would do it if necessary.

Garen deflated with a heavy sigh and tossed the letter to the floor, his borrowed clothing following shortly after. As he showered and collapsed into bed for an early night, the soldier decided that he would be very glad when this was finished.

Cassiopeia slithered after Talon as he strode to the mail room, complaining gracelessly the whole way about how he should buy her lunch for being so rude during their meeting; he rolled his eyes, considering doing so just to still her forked tongue.

"Who would send you mail anyway," she jabbed, earning a glare from the assassin. "You're an asshole."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a bitch when you're hungry?" he muttered.

The serpentine woman hissed at him, though there was no menace behind it, but stopped talking as the mail room attendant returned with a blank envelope and passed it to Talon. "Well what do you know," Cassiopeia smirked. "Someone out there likes you!"

But as he flipped it over, both Champions gasped at the familiar DuCouteau seal pressed into the wax, and he ripped it open only to find the letter contained was an incoherent jumble of letters and numbers. Incoherent to everyone except for Talon, who'd spent weeks poring over the code used in this particular letter.

"Talon," Cassiopeia warned, gripping his arm in her vice-like claws. "What is this?"

"I… I don't know," he lied, pushing past her and shoving the letter inside his cloak.

She followed on his heels, scales scraping against the marble floor as she pursued him with a mounting anger. "Don't lie to me! Is this about my father?!"

Talon panicked and bolted forward, but Cassiopeia's temper was just as quick. A blood-curdling screech burst from her lips, so violent he could swear he felt the weight of it on his back, and suddenly he could barely lift his legs to run.

She dashed after him, and he felt her claws rip into his neck, wrenching his head back to stare into her burning eyes. "Is this about my father!"

"Maybe, fuck!" he groaned, pulling her hands off of him. "It's the same code!"

As quickly as her anger set in, it left, and Cassiopeia let out a strangled cry as she covered her mouth. "What does it say?" she whispered.

"Hell if I know," he growled. "I'll need a minute to figure it out."

"Well hurry up!" the snake commanded.

Shooting her a glare, Talon seized her arm and pulled her along the hall toward his room, sluggishly at first until the magic of her scream wore away. "C'mon, in private at least. And until we get this figured this out, we don't tell Katarina, understood? It'll only worry her."

Cassiopeia hesitated, before nodding, following in subdued silence until the door to Talon's room was locked behind them. The assassin rummaged in his pack, throwing out his clothes and knives until he came the bottom of the sack, where he pulled out a small book, wrapped inside a shirt. As he flipped through it, Cassiopeia paced impatiently around the room, tapping her fingers against her arm. Finally Talon found the page he was looking for, and she peered over his shoulder to see his scrawled handwriting, the cipher for Marcus DuCouteau's code.

Leaning against the bed, Talon flipped his hood from his face and drew his knees up to his chest, the book and the letter in his lap. "Give me a minute," he murmured, eyes flashing between the two pages as he quickly scrawled out the message.

A few minutes passed in a strained silence, but his brusque voice eventually broke it, drawing Cassiopeia to his side in a flash. "I've got it," he called.

24 May, 22CLE

Talon, Cass, & Kat,

I'm sorry I haven't contacted you until now. You have every right to be angry but we can discuss it later. Things are quickly escalating into what looks like the Third Rune War and LeBlanc is in control of the Institute of War somehow. With this martial law, Swain will soon march against the Institute and LeBlanc, and if there is no one ready, I have no doubts he will take it. But I've ensured that the lower Noxian houses stand against Swain. I will be at the Hasty Hammer in Kalamanda tomorrow night, if any of you can make it to coordinate. If not, I'll be in touch soon, or leave a message for me with the bartender there. Stay strong. The worst has yet to come.

MdC

PS. Bring that Demacian fellow Katarina keeps around. I need to make sure he's been doing what I told him.

The two DuCouteau's simply sat in stunned silence.

"I can't believe he thinks he can just leave a message, after no one hears from him for months!" Cassiopeia finally cried. "For all we knew, he was dead!"

"Cass, it'll be ok," Talon assured. "Tomorrow! We can see him tomorrow right?"

Angry tears were spilling from the woman's eyes and she snarled, "I don't even want to see him now!"

The assassin frowned. "Don't be a brat."

"I can be a brat if I want!" she shrieked. "And what the hell is with the post script! Has Garen talked to him?"

Confused, the red-eyed man re-read the letter, finding no answers. "I…I don't know."

"This is fucked up. You go and play war with the General, and take that stupid man with you." Cassiopeia crossed her arms. "I'm not going."

Shaking his head, Talon carefully folded the letter and stuck it in the book, which he tucked inside his cloak. "When you cool down, you're going to regret not coming." Her pride, however, kept her from replying, and she slid over to the door and left, without a word.

"Good of you to join me Mister Crownguard," Kiersta intoned politely, gesturing to the chair in front of her. "I am very sorry to hear about your exile."

"Thank you, High Councilor."

Brushing a stray lock of black hair from her soft face, the woman sighed, "I really am sympathetic to your plight, and I wish I could allow you to stay here and recuperate from such an unfortunate event with no strings attached. But I'm afraid you must be a summoner or Champion of the League to reside here. Are you willing to do what is necessary to re-enter?"

Garen tapped his fingers nervously against his legs as he replied, "About that. I've been a Champion pretty much from the beginning. Can't you just add me to the roster as independent and be done with it? Without a Judgment?"

To his surprise, Kiersta seemed to consider his request, though a look of unease spread across her pretty features. "Well… High Councilor Kolminye did allow three other Champions in with minimal requirements."

"It wouldn't really be fair then if I had to go through the whole process again, then," he pressed, hoping his luck would hold.

Kiersta slowly shook her head. "I will compromise. I will judge you here, without High Councilor Kolminye and the other Senior Summoner. You have been a faithful Champion but I must abide by the rules also."

He wanted to ask if going along with Vessaria on controlling the world was part of following the rules, but bit his tongue and nodded, touching the reassuring weight of the sword hanging from his belt.

"Then let us begin," she stated, raising her hands. The room seemed to darken, and a burst of light erupted between her palms, blinding him.

When his vision returned, he was wearing only his underclothes and cuffed to a metal chair, staring into a two-way mirror. He couldn't stop the sickening dread that took his body as he looked from the mirror to the door where the King stood, to a tense Jarvan IV, to Lux, her face red and eyes teary; he knew what came next, replayed it many times while in Kalamanda.

Lux began to sob as the King addressed her, and Garen had to look away as her tiny frame shook. All the pain he caused his sister, all avoidable. Guilt overwhelmed him; he wanted to cry.

"Garen Crownguard," King Jarvan addressed, finally turning his steely gaze back to Garen, "for crimes against Demacia including fraternization with an enemy agent and petty treason for aiding in the retrieval of another known enemy agent, you are hereby dishonorably discharged from your station as Commander of the Dauntless Vanguard. Furthermore, your status as a Champion of Demacia is permanently revoked, and you shall no longer be affiliated with Demacia in any form. In honor of your previously faithful service, I will keep this charge from the public, but you are never to step foot into Demacian territory, and any infraction of this order will result in a public execution."

It didn't hurt any less hearing it the second time, and his heart thudded erratically against his ribs, his lungs refusing to work. But before the scene could play out, light surrounded the soldier once more, and when it receded once more, he found that he was in his bed at home wearing nothing at all.

"When all the political games are through, and everything is back to normal, what do you want to do?" Katarina asked, her hand tracing lazy patterns across his chest.

Garen closed his eyes, instantly relaxing into the feeling of her pressed against his side, her hair tangled in his fingers. "I don't know. But I want to be able to see you whenever I want. Whatever will let me do that."

The assassin let out a short but genuine laugh. "You're so cheesy! How did I end up with you?" she teased.

With a playful growl he turned onto his side and muttered, "I'm cheesy? Who was the one who wanted to run away to Bilgewater and become pirates?"

He remembered joining her laughter that followed, the motion awakening something besides mirth inside their bodies, but instead her brow creased in a frown. "What about the League?" she whispered.

"Wha-?"

"Why do you want to join the League?"

He instantly blushed, forgetting for that blissful moment that he was in a League Judgment. "Ah, I... I want to help you... her with our mission. I can protect her."

"Is that all?"

Garen bit his lip. "Whatever it takes, I want to make the world a place where we can be together."

Finally, Katarina grinned, "And how does it feel, exposing your mind?"

"As terrible as ever," he hissed. "And embarrassing. Get out of my head."

The light returned and when it faded, he was back in Kiersta's office, the High Councilor smirking knowingly, a blush staining her cheeks. "Cute."

"Inappropriate," he countered, causing her smile to fade.

"You plan to move against High Councilor Kolminye," she stated, her face neutral.

Anxious fingers brushed against the hilt of his sword as he replied,"As a Champion, I will do what's best for Valoran. As a High Councilor, you should do the same."

Her perfectly manicured nails tapped rhythmically against the wooden desk. "You have proof that she is... not herself?"

"Speculation," he admitted, thumb ready against the guard of his sword. "With reason to believe."

Kiersta was silent for several minutes, the tension growing with every second that passed. Finally she whispered, "You're right, I must do what is right for Valoran." The sharp inhale of his breath masked the sound of steel drawing ever so slightly from a sheath, but the Councilor merely turned her chair. "Have a good day Mister Crownguard," she declared.

A shocked look passed across his face and he stammered, "C-councilor Mandrake?" but she simply waved a hand at him in response. On guard, he rose to his feet and backed slowly to the door and, when she did not turn around, quickly exited, his thoughts racing along with him down the twisting halls to Katarina.