Jarvan sat up, rubbing his eyes as sunlight reflected off the pool of water before him, throwing dancing motes of light upon the rocks, as if nymphs were dancing along the walls. He leaned on his knee, yawning and watching the motes of light dancing about carelessly; part of him was envious of them. He had often wondered what he would have been doing with his life had he not been born into military service and fast tracked into being an officer. As he watched the water nymphs dance about on the walls, he could only smile at the memories they brought back.


20 years ago...

Jarvan raised his sword above his head and brought it down, slaying the evil she-beast. He stood triumphantly at the entrance of the beast's lair, a dark cave that cut deep into the rocks. He had journeyed deep into the cave and found a mighty weapon that was fit for the future king of Demacia. He grinned as he raised the weapon above his head and shouted a mighty battle cry.

"For the king!" He squeaked and covered his mouth as he froze and listened. He hadn't meant to shout; he had gotten too excited. He let loose a sigh of relief, raising his new sword.

Jarvan had been wandering the halls of the palace in his free time, exploring the many different rooms and offices that lined the courtyards and the spires that rose up towards the sky. He had just finished exploring a storage closet where he had found a broom that could have served as a mighty addition to his arsenal. Jarvan grinned as he stuck his head out into the hallway, the broom clutched in his hands as he watched silently for any movement from either direction. He had just begun to step into the hallway when the sound of clicking heals on the polished marble floors sent him scurrying for cover. He pulled the door shut as quietly as he could and peered through the keyhole. Someone turned the corner and the clicking sound grew louder, moving closer. Jarvan gulped and sucked a breath in as he recognized the female form, the skirt billowing around her.

"Young master!" The maid frowned, her dark hair swirling behind her as she wandered past, her piercing blue gaze hardly missing a detail. "Young Master Jarvan, where did you go?!" Her glasses sat perched upon her nose as she clicked past, the black and white uniform she wore swirling along the polished marble floors. The clicking faded down the opposite hallway. Jarvan waited a few moments to make sure she had gone.

Jarvan finally exhaled, carefully opening the door, trying his best to keep the latch from making a sound. The door swung open, Jarvan cringing as the hinges creaked. He stuck his head out and looked to the left, and made sure it was all clear.

"So far so good..." Jarvan said quietly to himself. He turned to look to the right and came face to face with a perfectly white apron and the tapping toe of his caretaker. "Oops." He gulped as the maid looked down at him, her glasses gleaming menacingly in the mid-day light. He tried to bolt down the hallway, but she grabbed him by the collar, holding him tight, lifting him from his feet.

"Found you!" The maid said, spitting him with a glare so hard it could have frozen a battalion of the hardest Noxian troops where they stood. "What do you think you're doing playing around like this?" She crossed her arms after setting the prince down. Jarvan shivered as she dressed him down, shaking a finger at his nose. "This is hardly behavior fitting the future king of Demacia! You should be studying, not playing war."

"Aww, but Noel, the lessons are boring!" Jarvan said, looking up at her. He frowned, sticking out his lip and knitting his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. She snatched his broom away and tossed it back into the closet.

"What if your father heard you say that?" Noel scolded him. "Your lessons are as important as any other aspect of a growing boy's education. Not everything can be won on the field of battle by simply charging head first into the wall." Her voice was tight enough to cause Jarvan to cringe again. She waved him forward, following as she marched him back towards the library with precision that would make a drill instructor jealous.

"I'm tired of Language and History lessons." Jarvan protested as they approached the great arched entrance to the Demacian Royal Academy's Library. "Why can't I practice swordsmanship with Mister Xin some more?"

"The Seneschal has much better things to be doing than teach a disobedient young man how play with swords." Noel said, pointing a rigid finger at the table Jarvan had scurried away from earlier. "Now sit while I go and fetch the tutor you so callously blew off." Jarvan frowned but sat down at the table, crossing his arms over his chest angrily.

"Stupid Noel..." Jarvan muttered at her retreating form. "I just wanted to have some fun."

"Good afternoon, young master." The voice frightened Jarvan, causing him to nearly jump from his seat. He had been so lost in his brooding about his caretaker's treatment of him that he had completely missed the approaching footsteps. "Surely such a smart young man as yourself wouldn't be protesting his lessons, now would you?"

Jarvan spun in his seat, a big goofy grin plastered over his face as he looked back at the man who rested a hand upon his head. The man tousled his hair, causing the young prince to grin even wider.

"Hullo, Grandfather!" Jarvan said happily.

"Hello, indeed!" His grandfather boomed, coming around the edge of the table, a smile upon his face. "And how are you this fine morning?" Jarvan tried to frown and put on a disgruntled expression, but he was unable to do so in his grandfather's presence. The man had a salt and pepper beard that was trimmed impeccably well, and whenever Jarvan saw him, he could only smile, memories of the way he had made the mustache dance to please him as a child came rushing back.

"I'm fine, just a bit bored." Jarvan IV said, looking back at his books. "Noel is making me study." His grandfather, the aging King of Demacia, picked up one of the books and examined the cover, his thumb holding the younger Jarvan's place as he flipped through the pages.

"A Comprehensive History of Demacia: Fourth Edition." His grandfather read aloud. The elder Jarvan looked down at his grandson. "Light reading. Surely you don't think our country's proud and illustrious history to be boring, now do you?"

Jarvan looked at his feet, squirming in his chair. "Maybe..."

"Good, it'd be a pity to waste such a beautiful day simply cooped up in a library." His grandfather said, dropping the tome onto the table with a mischievous grin. "I've got an idea." He stroked his bearded chin with one hand, glancing over his shoulder. He gestured for Jarvan to follow. "Hurry, before Miss Noel gets back." Jarvan's face lit up as he jumped to his feet, following his grandfather towards one of the side exits.

"Where are we going, Grandfather?" Jarvan said, jogging to keep up with his grandfather's much longer strides.

"Shh!" Jarvan II said, pressing a finger to his lips, ducking behind a bookcase. "Watch." He gestured back towards the table as Jarvan ducked behind the bookcase, peering through one of the lower shelves.

"It's Noel!" Jarvan hissed as she stopped at the table. She looked as if she were about fit to burst, the elderly tutor behind her having simply sighed and shaken his head.

"He's gone again!" Noel practically screamed in frustration, drawing the attention of much of the library. "THAT LITTLE...!" Her voice faded out as she stormed out of the building, off to search for the young prince again.

"She seems a bit mad." Jarvan said, his eyes wide. "I've never seen her that mad before..."

"She'll be fine." Jarvan II said with a grin, watching the mix of horror and fear run over his grandson's face. "Come on, I've got something fun we can do."

"Alright!" The younger Jarvan said, falling in behind his grandfather. The King stuck his head out from behind the bookcase and then waved Jarvan IV forward, the younger Jarvan falling in behind him. "Where are we going, Grandfather?" The prince asked after entering the tower and descending down the circular staircase deep into the basement. His grandfather didn't say anything, but the smile on his face kept Jarvan's interest piqued as he followed. He had produced a lantern from somewhere and held it in front of them as they continued down the steps towards the dungeons.

"It should be around here somewhere..." His grandfather said, looking left and right, running a hand along the wall. He paused, running his hand up and over a small metal fixture that Jarvan had missed before. "This way... we're almost there."

"Yes sir." Jarvan said, sticking close to his grandfather as they walked deeper and deeper into the dungeons.

"Four... five... six." His grandfather stopped and Jarvan bumped into him, still casting gazes at the shadows around them. "Here we go." His grandfather pulled a small ring of keys from his cloak, flipping through some of the smaller brass keys before he finally settled on a positively ancient looking key. He shoved it into the lock and twisted, the door opening to reveal a darkened room full of boxes and crates.

"What is this place?" Jarvan asked, looking up at the high vaulted ceilings. Long boxes were piled high, all the way to the ceiling, teetering about.

"Just a storage room." His grandfather said with a grin. He set his lantern down on a crate as he kneeled, brushing and blowing dust from the boxes as he examined several different containers. He grunted as he pushed one off the boxes to the ground, the crate breaking apart as it hit the stone floor. "Oops." He said, glancing over the edge. He pulled a knife from his belt as he looked at the next crate, jamming it into the gap to try and pry it open.

Jarvan kicked aside some of the wooden fragments and dug through the straw that had lined the long box. It was easily much taller than him as he tossed the straw aside, continuing to look through the contents of the box while his grandfather struggled to open the box he was prying on.

Jarvan brushed aside some of the moldy straw and was rewarded with the gleam of sharpened steel. He blinked, sitting back as he continued to brush the straw aside. The weapon was almost half again as tall as Jarvan was, and despite his young age, the weapon was terrifyingly massive. He tried to lift the heavy weapon but could hardly get it to budge. Jarvan could only imagine the brute of a man it must have taken to wield the weapon properly. Long decorative spikes extended off the top of the segmented lance, all of the tips gleaming in the dim lantern light. Jarvan ran his fingers over the weapon in awe, and gasped when he nicked his finger on the blade.

"It's still sharp?" Jarvan asked, as blood pooled on his finger. He sucked on the end of the finger, still looking at the gleaming weapon.

"Would you look at that..." His grandfather said, bending over, brushing his hand over the lance. He blinked a few times, as he bent down next to Jarvan, a hand upon his head. "That was my father's lance..." He tried to pick the weapon up and grunted when he could barely get one end off the ground.

Jarvan snickered as the old man frowned, looking down at the weapon. "Can't lift it Grandfather?"

"I never said I could, squirt." He slugged his grandson's arm affectionately as he chuckled, dropping the weapon back down on the ground. Jarvan stuck his tongue out at his grandfather and giggled. "I found what I needed though, so let's go." Jarvan nodded at his grandfather, looking at the strange poles he had in his hand. Jarvan dragged himself from the room, his eyes still glued to the lance as he followed his Grandfather out of the dungeons and back into the palace. They stopped at an intersection and his grandfather stuck his head out around the corner, looked both ways then waved Jarvan IV to follow him as he jogged across the hall.

"Grandfather, where are we going?" Jarvan asked as he followed his grandfather through the palace. Jarvan had never seen this part of the Palace before, the rocky ceilings hung with large stalactites and stalagmites rising from the ground.

"A secret place, young one." They emerged into the forests just outside the city, the cave well hidden from those who would wander the forest. His grandfather stopped and looked about. He whistled like a bird, and then lay the poles across his shoulder. Jarvan looked about expectantly, as if something were to happen. He stood hesitantly watching for the trees to come alive, but to his disappointment, nothing happened. He frowned as his grandfather watched him, and smiled. "See something you like, young one?"

Jarvan looked back up at his grandfather and shook his head. "No, Grandfather. I just..."

"You expected this, no?" Jarvan II wore a grin on his face as he whistled again, this time two short blasts. A man appeared from the trees as if he had appeared from nowhere, his cloak shimmering with grays and greens, small bits of twig and leaves dropping from his cloak as it swirled around him. Jarvan blinked, his eyes as wide as saucers as the man, clad in green and gray saluted his grandfather, his bow and weapons shuddering as the man stood. Jarvan IV simply nodded, watching excitedly as the man looked down at Jarvan and smiled.

"I apologize for calling you out as such, Thanos." Jarvan's Grandfather said with a grin. "He is vigilant, for a child."

"He will make a great warrior in time." Thanos said, rustling the young prince's hair.

"Yes. In time." His grandfather said, grinning. "But for now, we have something else to attend to."

"Of course, my liege." Thanos' bowed and backed away, disappearing into the brush as if he were a ghost. Jarvan watched, a wide grin upon his face as the man disappeared.

"Come, young one, we have much to do." His grandfather said, beckoning him to follow. Jarvan followed as they disappeared into the forest, winding along a small trail that had been carved through the thick pines. Jarvan talked happily about the ranger, his grandfather laughing and discussing with him as he did. Time seemed to blur as they continued to hike through the forest, only the faint rustling of bushes and the occasional snapping of twigs to show that the rangers were still following in their wake.

After a lengthy hike, the two emerged atop a waterfall that pounded the coastal rocks, the roar of the water feeding into the ocean enough to make the stone tremble beneath Jarvan's feet. He could hear the surf crashing upon the rocks down below, and the wind howling against the cliffs.

"What is this place, Grandfather?" Jarvan asked, peering over the edge of the waterfall. He inched forward till he could see the white surf breaking against the rocks. A mighty waved struck the cliff and water jumped nearly as high as where Jarvan stood perched, his jaw hung open in awe.

"This is my favorite fishing spot." Jarvan II said with a grin as he turned Jarvan IV back to look the opposite way. There was great lake that spread along the cliffs, the water slowly flowing towards the plunge towards the cliff. The lake was high above the surf below, the water pooled in a rocky basin that had served to form the lake. "Let's get some lines in the water already." A smile spread out across his face as he continued walking along the shore, the water lapping at the pebbles and sand that had been worn smooth by the water. Jarvan II clambered up a rock and held his hand out for the younger Lightshield, hauling Jarvan IV up the rock. He plopped down, stretching his legs out before him and chuckling as Jarvan hung his face out over the edge of the rock to look into the water.

"Grandfather... there are fish down there!" Jarvan said, tugging on his boot. Motes of light danced upon the surface of water, a rainbow of colors flashing across his face and the rocks.

"What would a fishing spot be without fish?" His grandfather said, laughing aloud. He busied himself with the fishing lines while the younger Jarvan splashed at the surface of the water, sending the fish skittering towards the inner part of the lake.

"They're so pretty!" Jarvan IV said, amazed. "Pink and green... woahhhhh!" The fish flashed just below the surface of the water, taunting Jarvan with their silvery scales and bright colors that lined their bodies. Jarvan watched the colors dance along the rocks, grinning wide as the light seemed to dance.

"They're called salmon." His grandfather said, raising him arm over his shoulder and then sending the hook and line sailing out over the water. The cork bobbed up and down for a few moments before settling on the surface of the water. "Here you go." Jarvan II handed the fishing pole off to his young companion.

"What do I do with this?" Jarvan said, accepting the pole from his grandfather.

"Catch us lunch, of course!" His grandfather chuckled again, casting a second line out into the water.


Shyvana stirred next to him, drawing Jarvan from his daydreaming as she pushed herself up against him, the warmth of her body radiating outwards underneath the blanket they had shared. Jarvan blinked a few times, the grand lake that had been before him was now the small, sheltered pool that was surrounded by rocks and trees. He sat back and yawned, looking up to the sky, and noticed that the sun had risen higher. He shook his head; he had wasted almost an hour lost in a stupid daydream. He smiled though, wondering whether Shyvana liked fish or fishing for that matter. She didn't seem to care for the water itself, but that was something they could work on in time. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, drawing it from his face.

"Look at me now, grandfather... sitting here thinking about my future with a woman." He shook his head and looked down at Shyvana, her soft form rising and falling underneath the blanket. He grinned, touching his chest just over his heart. He smiled, thinking about what his grandfather and great-grandfather had told him before.

Keep a lid on your shit, son. Jarvan chuckled. Not the most eloquently put response, but it fit. He needed to keep his head about him and not let it get lost in the clouds again.

Jarvan turned back to Shyvana and watched her quietly for a while, letting the sound of the water caress his ears. He ran a finger along her arm, then pulled the blanket up over her carefully as he slid out from underneath. He stood slowly, working the kinks in his neck out as he did. He grunted as he finally stood fully erect, his back cracking as he stretched his hands above his head and yawned. The morning was peaceful and dew covered much of the grass around the hidden pool. Jarvan watched the water for a while, wishing he had a fishing pole as he smiled to himself.

Finally drawing his eyes away from the pool, Jarvan set about his morning routine, moving down to the water and rinsing his face. He shaved quickly using his combat knife, unsatisfied that he couldn't get nearly as close a shave as with a razor. He brushed his teeth and then rinsed his mouth with a small bottle of alcohol. He then set about making something to eat, building up the fire and taking the time while the wood began to burn to simply sit back and think.

How exactly are the two of us going to deal with Kampf, anyways? Jarvan frowned as he sat, tending the fire, feeding it small sticks and blowing lightly upon it to try and catch the kindling on fire. He had gathered plenty of wood and sticks the night before while Shyvana had napped. He pulled a handful of small twigs and dried pine needles from the pile and fed them into the small flame that he had managed to get by blowing on the still smoldering log.

Last time we faced Kampf, he took Shyvana down with a single swipe, he nearly fried both of us alive, and he killed more of my men then I care to think about. Jarvan shivered; his latest encounter with Kampf had been the single deadliest encounter he had ever faced since his journey had begun two years prior, the dragon taking the lives of most of his troupe. Argyle, Reynolds, Vanneth, Halcyon, Torn, Orion, Shore...

Jarvan had injured the massive dragon, and though he had never pushed the subject with Shyvana, he had noticed that Kampf's left wing had been shredded. He could barely fly and while Jarvan hadn't been able to use that to his advantage, he had a sinking suspicion that the wound was from Kampf's fight with Shyvana's father. Jarvan had also wounded the dragon, robbing him of half his sight. Something else I can use to my advantage...

Jarvan tossed a few sticks as round as his thumb onto the fire, letting the burgeoning flames devour the dried kindling before he set a larger log onto the flames. It began to burn and flicker against the dim light of the overhanging rocks. Jarvan lowered a small black skillet over the fire and set two slabs of thick, salted pork in the pan he had sliced off a hunk of meat. He would have preferred fresh fish, but he didn't have a fishing rod or at even a hook he could use. He peeled a potato with his knife while he watched the fire and chopped it up, tossing the bits into the pan with the pork and let it sit on the fire, crackling and sizzling. He sprinkled a few seasonings onto them and stirred them about till they were evenly coated.

I've killed dragons before. Jarvan frowned, watching the fire sparkle at the crackling grease. It's never easy but I've done it... just never one this big or ferocious. Jarvan shook the pan, and pushed the potatoes around with his knife, watching them brown as the pork darkened.

"Mmmm..." Shyvana leaned against his arm and yawned, revealing long fangs. "What smells so good?" She rubbed her eyes as she leaned against Jarvan, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." Jarvan said, kissing her lightly. She smiled as she groaned softly, leaning her head against his arm. Warm skin pressed against him as she slid up against his arm, wrapping her hand around his bicep.

"You're just saying that..." Shyvana murmured as she sniffed the air more.

"Maybe." Jarvan chuckled, winking at her.

"Wha-..." Shyvana pulled herself up into a sitting position, blinking the sleepiness away as she scowled at the prince. "That's no way to speak to a noble dragon." She stuck her nose out and continued scowling. Jarvan chuckled.

"Since when did you become a 'noble dragon'?" Jarvan asked, pushing a one of the slices of pork and some of the potatoes onto a plate, and the rest onto another. He handed Shyvana one of the plates and then cut two slices of bread from a hard loaf.

"Since yesterday." Shyvana said through a mouth of potato and pork, accepting the slice of bread from him.

"Oh really?" Jarvan mused, looking at her, his eyebrow raised as he watched her shovel the food into her mouth hungrily. "Well I've never met a noble woman who talked with their mouth full." Shyvana paused, ripping off part of the slab of salted pork as she looked down at the chunk of meat that was still skewered on her fork. She set the meat down and chewed and swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She blushed and looked down at her plate nervously, realizing that if she ever wished to be accepted into his world, she would need to learn to be a proper lady.

"Sorry." Shyvana muttered, looking up at him from behind the bangs that had fallen into face.

Jarvan shook his head and chuckled. "Just something you'll learn in time." Jarvan sliced off some of the meat and popped it into his mouth with his knife. They ate in silence, both of them quickly polishing off their food. Jarvan helped Shyvana clean up the campsite and then he doused the fire with some water from the pool.

"You might want to wash yourself off before we head out." Jarvan said, tossing her some soap and a towel. "No telling when the next time we'll have a chance to do so again." Shyvana nodded and looked to the water. She looked nervous, but it wasn't more than a foot or two deep.

Jarvan must have sensed her unease because he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you want I can help you with it." He wore a cheeky grin that told Shyvana he was kidding. She smirked.

"Mmmm... You can help me wash all those hard to reach places." Shyvana said coyly, grabbing his arm as she pushed herself up against him. She let her tunic slide off her shoulder as she sidled up to him, grinning. She pressed her breasts against him and grinned at the look of surprise on his face as he blushed a furious red. She could feel that she had let a large amount of cleavage show and while she thought she should have felt dirty or immoral, she could only feel her heart beat faster in her chest. His gaze dropped from her face and immediately jumped back to meet her eyes. She grinned cheekily as he tried to match her gaze. She had obviously caught him off guard, and she grinned happily at the surprise on his face.

"I-I-I..." Jarvan stammered, Looking away as Shyvana crowded towards him, letting her aggressive nature force him back as she smiled predatorily.

"Oh, you're saying you don't want to help?" Shyvana pouted playfully, pushing off of him and moving towards the pool. She let the towel she held over her shoulder slap him playfully as she spun. She looked over her shoulder and smiled coyly at him. "You can watch if you want though." She stripped the clothes off and tossed them at Jarvan, grinning as she did. His mouth hung ajar.

"I'll do just that." Jarvan said, turning it back around on her. It was her turn to blush furiously at the thought of his gaze upon her body, leaving her smiling like a nervous young maiden. She had been enjoying the playful banter but she hadn't actually expected anything to come of it. …Not at the time at least. She turned back, smiling at Jarvan, expecting his embrace. She nearly fell over when she saw him clamber over the top of the rocks above her and grin down at her.

"W-wait, I thought..." Shyvana stammered, confused, her shoulders sagging. Jarvan grinned cheekily and then winked down at her.

"Expecting something else?" Jarvan called down, holding his lance at his side. "I'll keep watch from up here. Lemme know if you need a hand!" He disappeared over the edge of the rocks and left Shyvana speechless.

"OH!" Shyvana seethed, her hair billowing as flames exploded around her. "Jarvan Lightshield, you jerk!" A fleeting hand waved over the top of the rocks and then disappeared again. The flames simmered down and then died, leaving the dragoness feeling cold in the dim mid-morning sunlight. She sighed, but couldn't help but grin. "I'll get you for that." Shyvana whispered under her breath, shaking her head.


Jarvan smiled to himself as he dripped some water from the soft sided pouch he wore on his belt onto his hand and the sharpening stone held in his palm. He took the whet stone to his lance quietly, only the sound of the rushing water craching down the cliffs behind him, splitting into two rivers to disturb his meditation. He set about sharpening the hundreds of edges that lined his lance, the repetitive motion serving to calm him and his body.

His mind wandered to the vision that now bathed bellow him, a gorgeous and exceedingly sharp young woman who would probably give him everything willingly if he so much as asked. It was an enticing thought and he had been tempted to give into his demons and he had come within inches of indulging in a forbidden fruit he had long not tasted. It was something he had once desired with reckless abandon, chasing tail and bedding maidens whenever he had so desired, but he had learned in time that despite the carnal desire he had tried to satiate, none of the women he had perused, not matter how beautiful or smart, held no interest in him, only the title he bore.

He had eventually grown bored with his pursuits of the flesh and turned to his studies and his mastery of his lance, a runic weapon of massive weight and power that he had discovered on a fishing trip years and years before. He ran his hand along the weapon he held before him, many small dents and scratches now marring the surface. Many of them were like the women he had tried to take interest in during his years at the academy; nothing more than a distant memories now. Jarvan paused and tried to remember any of the women he had ever courted during his academy days. There was almost nothing that had stood out; it was but a blur of flesh and intercourse that had lacked any substance at all.

Jarvan ran his finger over one particularly deep scratch that had scarred the surface of the lance. He grinned at the memory of the Ice Drake he had downed in the far reaches of the Freljord. It had been his worst encounter up until that point in his journey, and the drake had left its mark as the fiercest beast in the Freljord upon his lance. He paused, his fingers resting upon the gouge in the lance and smiled. Like the Ice Drake of the Freljord, there was one woman who had stood out among all the rest.

Shyvana. She is... Jarvan struggled to find a word that could apply describe her. Memories of his other companions all lacked substance and faces to go along with the time he had spent. But Shyvana was different from all of the rest. Jarvan grinned. Different.

She is very different.

Jarvan paused sharpening his lance and ran his finger along the surface of the course stone. Shyvana was similar to the sharpening stone, smooth in places but rough around the edges where her life hadn't worn her down. Jarvan grinned to himself as his mind wandering to the rough spots that Shyvana had, from her behavior to her body. Each was endearing and special, marking her and different from the many women he had known. She was special to him; her strength was not just in body and mind, but in heart as well. She was more Demacian than most Demacians he had ever known and she had a right to become a part of that, and know what it was like to have a true home. Jarvan didn't know how much he could give her, but he could at least give her that.

A home.

Jarvan chuckled to himself. Here I am, trying to give her a home... I don't even know if I have a home to go back to. He sighed, running his hands over his face. He looked down at his palms and just stared at them for a few moments. They were rough with callouses from wielding his lance and having done so for so many years. He wondered what he would have done with his life had he not been a prince. The life of a Demacian was hardly a peaceful one, the three years mandatory service was something that all Demacians went through, but after that, what would he have done? Jarvan had never known a life of peace, only service. He had been raised as the prince, training and learning to better fulfill his duties. He wondered what it would be like to live a peaceful life with Shyvana in the future. A life where he didn't have to worry about what others thought and others wanted him to do. A life where he could do what he wanted with who he wanted. He felt his face flush as he thought back to Shyvana.

The ripest of fruit. Jarvan shook his head and tried to draw his mind from the thoughts he was having. Now is not the time for that. He frowned and ran his free hand over his face. In time it will come. In time. Part of Jarvan wondered if both of them wouldn't be better off if it happened. Part of him was ready to embrace and become one with her. His heart beat faster and he felt his stomach flutter, his head light and his face flushing at the very thought. It excited him in more ways than one and he knew that he wanted to. He wet the sharpening stone again and continued sharpening the blade to a razor's edge, shaking his head.

"We'll stop here for lunch." A man's voice interrupted Jarvan's daydreams and ripped him from cloud nine and back to Valoran. Jarvan sat back against the rocks, tucking the sharpening stone away when he heard more voices. He lowered himself to the ground and slithered up towards the edge, pulling himself the last little way and froze, just able to see who was down below.

When he realized who it was, the prince grinned and formed a quick plan of action. He stood and waited for the perfect opportunity.


"So what do we do now?" Forsythe muttered, kicking a rock. He grumbled as he kneeled down and pulled his canteen off his belt and dipped it into the pool that had formed in the base of the rocks. Despite the small trickle of water that ran down the cliff, he could hear the rush of water crashing on rocks somewhere over the way.

"I don't know." Isaacs crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the tree, scowling. "I knew he was a crazy sonuvabitch, but I never expected he'd get himself killed in Noxian captivity."

"Like hell he would." Forsythe frowned, pouring some water over his face and wiping dust and grime from it. He sighed as he cracked his back and knelled down to fill his water bottle again. "Jarvan would've taken a few squads down with him. Besides, It'll be a cold day in Shurima before I believe those Noxian reports."

"It can't be possible." Quinn mumbled sadly, stroking Valor's neck. He was unhappy, watching the rocks above them and glancing back and forth expectantly between Quinn and Isaacs as if he had something to say. Quinn sighed sadly and looked to Isaacs. "I thought... I didn't think... how could it be..."

"We don't know that it's true." Isaacs grumbled as he sunk to the ground, still leaning against the tree. "I won't believe the Prince is dead till I see the body."

"I don't want to think about it." Forsythe grumbled. "Four weeks of silence and we don't hear anything... and now he's supposedly dead? Screw that." He reared his fist back as if he was going to punch the rocks. He took a weak swing and missed the wall, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Forsythe sighed, picking himself up and started brushing dust from his pants.

A man dropped down from the rocks, clutching a long weapon. Valor screeched and went soaring up into the sky. Isaacs and Forsythe squabbled as they drew their weapons and faced the man, his long black hair swirling around him. He raised the familiar looking lance and slammed the butt of it into the dirt. Isaacs and Forsythe held their weapons up at the ready as Quinn struggled to her feet and tried to pull out her crossbow.

"Wait..." Isaacs hissed as he eyes went wide, his weapon lowering a fraction of an inch as his jaw dropped. Jarvan grinned as he turned, his fist posted on one hip, his lance clenched in the other.

"So," Jarvan chuckled, "A Noxian walks into a bar..."

Isaacs blinked and then fell over backwards, his eyes rolling back in his head.