Hey everyone! Coming atcha hungry and really craving a Baconator. Man, that sounds delish! Anyway, the point of me continuing this story is because I have such a fan base that I don't want to end it! (: I wanna thank all of you for following this story for the past two years. Thank you! I do want to let you know that the next few chapters are going to be VERY touchy. It doesn't follow regular LOL lore (but really, none of this does), and there is a very disturbing scene between Swain and Katarina. If you don't want to read it, don't. If you do, props. Let me know what you think. Just wanted to give you a heads up! Anyway, I'm rambling. And you bet your balls I'm getting a Baconator after I'm done writing.

Chapter 25:

Garen's blue eyes opened sluggishly, but everything around him was a blur. He felt as though he'd been bonked on the head with a wooden mallet then dunked in the ocean holding his breath for five minutes and then tossed onto a concrete floor, where he lay now. Immediately, his arm went for his sword, but he couldn't move it. He slowly looked above him to where his hands were in irons above his head. With a sigh, and his vision clearing, he saw the rest of his companions were in the same situation. Karthus and Nocturne were nowhere to be found; he assumed that LeBlanc had them in magical bindings somewhere around here. As he scanned the dungeon, he saw Ashe's clear blue eyes land upon his.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah, just feel sick," he answered. "Do you know what happened?"

Ashe shook her head. "I don't, Garen, I'm sorry. But, it appears as though they took our weapons."

"I could've figured as much," he replied. His eyes landed on a still sleeping Katarina, halfway between Ashe and Caitlyn. "Why are they holding us down here if they want us dead?"

"I don't know that either. I've been thinking up ways to escape, but I don't have any ideas. It seems as though they have us under lock and key," she sighed.

"Oi!" Gangplank seemed to have awoken to Garen's left. He shook his arms, rattling the chains in the process. "What's all this? We've been captured?"

"I'm afraid so," Ashe replied.

"And I assume that your magical friends are nowhere to be found, eh?" he looked to Garen.

"I don't see them anywhere," came Garen's snooty reply. He and Gangplank locked eyes for a moment and stared into one another's souls.

"Stop it," Ashe commanded rather fiercely. "This is not the time. Gangplank, can you wake up Marcus? Maybe he knows something we don't."

Gangplank looked over at Marcus' limp form beside him and gave him a hard kick in the side of the leg. Marcus immediately awoke, his eyes fierce, yet pained. He looked at Gangplank, and after a short altercation, he began to realize the severity of the situation.

"Well, I wasn't expecting this," Marcus said to the group and looked up at his irons. "Have any ideas on how to escape?"

"Nothing," Garen answered. "I was thinking maybe we could –"

"Garen, shut up," Caitlyn said. The conscious looked over to where she had a pick in her fingers and she was attempting to break open the lock on her irons.

"When did you wake up, Sheriff?" Garen asked, amused.

"When I got tired of listening to your pointless arguments," she answered. Her blue eyes were heavily concentrated on the lock and pick, which was straining her hand to mess with. "These are Piltover irons. The only way to pick them without the key is with a pick. It's been done before."

"Was it C?" Katarina asked groggily from beside her.

Caitlyn didn't even spare her a glance. "Yes. I need to get out of here so I can catch that bastard one day."

None of the group had ever seen Caitlyn irritated before, much less angry. Normally, she wore a poker face, but she was assertive and very controlling. Her lips pursed as she struggled not the drop the pick. Garen held his breath as she turned it for the final time, and the irons popped open. With a satisfied smile, she took the pick from the iron and crawled over to Katarina.

"Well, get thinking," she snapped.

"Right," Garen nodded. "How do we get out of here? And wait! Where is Jarvan?"

Prince Jarvan was awoken some time before the others and brought into one of the rooms in the north wing of the Castle. No one ever went in there unless they needed something out of the lengthy storage units in the wing. But, the room Jarvan was in had been cleared out and he was strapped to a golden chair, facing a man sitting on a chair in front of him. Almost immediately, he knew it was Swain. He could've guessed this would've happened, being the Prince of the city that had almost been redeemed of Noxians. It was his duty to pay for the crimes they had committed.

He stared Swain down, not giving him the reaction he wanted. Almost for sure, Jarvan knew Swain wanted him to struggle and try to free himself of his restraints. But, he was sensible. Being calm was the reaction Swain didn't want, but it showed his power and his ability to act under pressure. Also, he could guess the chains were enchanted and didn't want to find out what exactly they were capable of doing.

"Jarvan, you disappoint me," Swain told him flatly. Jarvan didn't reply. He didn't even flinch. "Do you realize that by the end of tonight, Demacia will be rid of their King and their Prince?"

"You won't get away with this," Jarvan replied.

"Oh no? I believe I already have," Swain chuckled. He stood and began to pace around the back of his chair. Jarvan's eyes followed him closely.

"You haven't, because you haven't taken over the whole city. It may be in shadows, but it is still Demacian," Jarvan growled from between his teeth.

"It takes a lot to break you, boy," Swain said. "I like the nerve. Maybe wanting to be rid of you was a mistake. How about you join my forces? That way you'll live, and still be in your precious Demacia."

Jarvan was sick with rage. "I would never join you."

"I'm only going to give you one opportunity, and if you refuse me, there will be dire consequences," Swain said softly and shook his head.

"There's always dire consequences with you. Why would I want to serve under the man who took my way of life away from me?" Jarvan asked with narrowed eyes.

"I see you need some persuading," Swain chuckled. "Bring him."

The door to the room swung open and two Noxian guards dropped a bruised and bloodied King Jarvan on the floor. He looked half-conscious and didn't even recognize his son. The Prince inhaled sharply at the scene of his father. Without hesitation and before the Prince could say a word or make a move, Swain took a sword from beneath his cloak and shoved it through the King's torso.

Jarvan's scream would be told in legends years afterwards as it swept through every floor, every house, and every window in Demacia.