*FOUR MONTHS LATER*

Valoran had been transformed by war.

Piltover was at the forefront of continental progress; with the help of Bandle City, they'd begun rapid construction on a series of trains to connect the city-states to the Institute of War, the hub of the continent. The Piltoveran government was also in charge of overhauling Zaunite standards, an effort still met with resistance from Council of Zaun and its locals; with the help of Noxus, they were slowly restraining the previously unchecked city.

Marcus DuCouteau had easily regained power in Noxus and reined in the chaos left by Swain's disappearance. His cooperation with the rest of the world, however, was coming around reluctantly as years worth of mistrust and hatred on part of the High Command was slowing progress. But small steps were better than nothing and other than a few stubborn individuals, Noxus as a nation didn't threaten Valoran's well-being.

Without the constant threat of Noxian backlash and Bilgewater piracy, Ionia was free to focus their attentions on their exclusive problem literally hovering over them. The new allies Ionia had found in Freljord, Demacia and, to some extent, Noxus, curbed Syndra's demands, resulting in an uneasy peace in the war-ravaged island. Because of the restrictions being held over Bilgewater, the island was able to connect with the rest of the continent, no longer being forced to fight in order to trade or travel.

Along with Ionia, Bandle City flourished because of the enforced restrictions. Yordle ships that were previously sacked by Noxus and Bilgewater were able to sail unhindered. Travel between the city and Piltover, their longtime ally, was safer, and they aided the City of Progress where they could. It was Heimerdinger who led the way on planning the new train system while Meglings and Scouts helped protect workers human and Yordle.

The tenuous unity between the other city-states of Valoran had forced Bilgewater to consider the terms of the order defined by the rest of the world. With their options for the port city suddenly diminished by threat of retaliation, Miss Fortune and Gangplank, who had previously been divided on the direction to take the city, had come together and agreed to follow the lead of the others. Though the port had long been a refuge for pirates, the lawless denizens of Bilgewater were suddenly met with force on the seas from all city-states. It was enough a message for some that piracy was no longer going to be tolerated, not even by the common citizens of the Blue Flame Islands.

Demacia had undergone a short period of turmoil following Jarvan IV's return. Lux and Jarvan's influence on Lilia had been well done; she'd swayed much of the Legislature into believing the King had erred unforgivably in his failure to act in Demacia's interests, which included the exile of those who'd meant to help the most. When the truth came out the city-state had nearly spiraled into riot for the first time since the Lightshield's gained power. It was almost too easy for the pair to convince the King to pass along the crown to his son and live out the rest of his days in the countryside, maintaining what little dignity he remained to him. If there was anything Demacia was known for, it was their unconditional ability to accept what was told to them by its leaders.

Although the Rakkor and Solari had the most to benefit from their new status, the stubborn people were reluctant to change their ways. Leona and Pantheon tempered one another, worked together to both maintain and progress the traditions of their tribes. Under their moderate leadership, the newly founded city-state had begun a slow expansion, working on their communication with the rest of the continent. The problems they faced due to a lack of resources were mitigated as they set aside their pride and accepted trade agreements. They would never be willing to conform completely- they valued combat far too highly for that- but they were determined to keep Mount Targon involved in the political realm.

Ashe's absence had nearly provoked war in Freljord as Sejuani pursued her claim to the throne of Freljord with a renewed aggression. It was all Tryndamere could do to quell the threats of an uprising and he hadn't done it alone; he'd been forced to accept aid from the mysterious Frostguard, their tenuous allies from Eastern Freljord. When Ashe returned the Frostguard had retreated like melting ice back into the mountainous region as though they'd never come. As soon as Jarvan had come into power, Ashe had pressed him for an alliance. He conceded that each would send an envoy to survey the state of affairs in their city-states and would come to an agreement based upon their observations. For the exhausted Queen, the work was only just beginning.

And on a continental scale, League matches were becoming obsolete with nearly all city-states pushing for peace, a blessing to some, a curse to others. Without a High Council of Summoners, the Institute of War didn't hold the same sway, leaving the cities to decide among themselves when it was necessary to battle. With how close they'd come to a full-scale Rune War, most chose to resist fighting when they could.

But tucked away for the last month in an inn on the infamous Fleet Street in Bilgewater, Garen and Katarina's only knowledge of the happening's of the world came from the newspaper and the occasional letter from the friends they'd made.

"Time to get up!" Katarina purred, pouncing onto the bed where Garen lay curled up with his arm across his eyes to block the light. As she climbed on top of him, she threw a newspaper down on his chest and informed, "You have to read the paper today!"

Garen groaned as he opened his eyes to their sunny room, though it was as much for being awoken as for the sensation of her hips grinding into his; she'd long since perfected the art of moving in a way that aroused him in an instant. Her hair pooled around them in a red curtain while she nibbled his ear, whispering the things she would do to him if he woke up in the next minute. In response, his sleepy hands moved up the bare skin of her legs, feeling the light scarring along them from an old acid burn before they reached the sensitive area between them. When his fingers attempted to slip inside the loose shorts she wore to bed, the assassin placed the paper over his eyes.

"First you have to read the front page," she smirked.

"I'd rather not," he growled, flipping their positions and sending the newspaper scattering onto the bed. "This is much more entertaining," he whispered, his hands sliding beneath her shirt.

The red-head yielded a soft moan as his convincing hands made their point, but when he moved to pull her shirt over her head, she grasped a page from the news and pressed it into his face with a chiding noise. Sighing, he took the document from her hands and collapsed beside her, grumbling as he readjusted his uncomfortably tight pants. "This better be good," he complained; she only laughed in response.

Midway through scanning the front page he sat up with a grunt of surprise. "This is from today?" he clarified.

"Yep." She propped herself up on her elbow and pointed at a particular paragraph. "Did you read the part about Jarvan naming Lux Chief Adviser over the Legislative Council?"

He skipped to where her finger rested, then jumped back to reread the entire article. "Step down? How the fuck did they convince Jarvan III to 'step down'?" he marveled. "I can't believe Jarvan's the king now..."

Satisfied that he'd read enough, the red-head plucked the paper from his hands and supplanted herself in his arms. "I don't know how they did it but I bet they'll be inviting you back home any day now," she pointed out.

The Demacian's eyes widened at the truth in her statement, then he grabbed her face and pulled her into a deep kiss that left them both breathless.

"Come home with me?" he gushed when they parted. "It's not forever, just for a little-"

"You don't even have to ask," she interrupted with a grin. "I told you, you're stuck with me."

The simplicity of her statement and the depth of its meaning made his heart leap into his throat. "How did I get so lucky?" he choked. He didn't wait for her response; instead, he kissed the tender part of her neck where it curved into her shoulder, an act that never ceased to render her speechless.

Her answer came out in a pleasured gasp, lost in the rustle of sheets.

Garen felt as if he were in a dream as he and Katarina approached the last trickle of the Serpentine River, the only direction they could approach Demacia because of its natural boundaries. Five months ago he had thought it would be the last time he would see it, but there it was, unchanged save for the people waiting on the other side: Anders, the new commander of the Dauntless Vanguard; Lux, grinning brightly despite the dark circles under her eyes; Lilia, her serious face set and lined by age; and Jarvan, a smile on his face despite the emptiness in his eyes.

Katarina tugged him towards the shallow point of the river, leading him towards his family with a confidence that surprised him. Holding his breath, he took one step, then another, crossed the stream with his fingers entwined with hers.

At the other side, Anders raised his arm in salute. "Welcome back, sir. And to you, Ms. DuCouteau."

Garen joined in a grin with the woman beside him, shared a knowing look with her. "It's good to be home," he said. With a squeal, Lux launched herself at his chest and clung to him like a child, though she stepped aside to allow Jarvan space to allow his friend a short embrace. When his eyes set on Lilia, she merely glanced toward Katarina, gave them a short nod, and turned away.

After Lux's excited chatter drifted off, the convoy began to move and as it did, Garen stopped, leaned in toward Katarina, and murmured, "I love you, Katarina, and I never want to be without you."

Her honest eyes shone and his knees felt as weak as they had at their first encounter when she quietly echoed his words.

In every way, their relationship had been unique. There was no romance or love at first sight, simply two soldiers carrying orders to kill. Their courtship had taking place over tavern brawls, political negotiations, and battlefields. And when emotion showed, it was a fleeting thing, revealed only in the secret of night. Yet it was built against all reason, in spite of the pain, chaos, and lies which surrounded them. Times would change and he was sure their problems were far from over. But they would always have each other and that was the only thing of consequence, the only truth.

End.