"You certainly picked a nice night to take a stroll, Jarvan." Quinn mumbled to herself as she carefully dropped from a warehouse roof to avoid a patrolling guardsman, tugging her hood lower and tightening the scarf around her face. She could hear him muttering and bitching about the cold from further away than she could see him in the thick snowstorm. Quinn had already navigated her way along the guard's existing pathway, and unless he was really looking hard, he wouldn't notice that the latest pair of tracks were much smaller than his normal tread and were headed in the opposite direction he was patrolling in. She pressed her back to the granite wall as the mumbling and complaints grew louder. She dared not move, and she remained frozen on the top of the roof that was connected to the floor below.

"God damned, fucking weather." The man's voice carried over the wind. "If this bloody Nor'easter hadn't gone and fucking blown outta the Freljord, I coulda had a nice easy night. Now I'm colder than a witch's tit and later on I gotta go home to one! Fuck this shit." The voice faded out again and Quinn breathed a sigh of relief, giggling to herself about the guard's colorful words. Even over the wind she could hear his muttering as he started around the building again on his patrol.

"At least I like the cold." Quinn mused to herself as she moved towards the edge of the rooftop and dropped to the street, looking around for the shape of the prince as he wandered seemingly aimlessly about the city. She managed to pick out the shape of the prince in his heavy jacket and then watched the shape for a few moments. It lurched forward in the snow, choosing top brute force the snow aside, rather than the odd bowlegged hops most people tended to prefer. Yep, that's him. He was moving slowly, even for a man in a snowstorm. I'll keep my distance for now, but I don't know if I can hit anything in this weather. She put her hand on her crossbow under her cloak, just to make sure it was still there.

Quinn found herself was almost hoping that Valor would drop out of the storm and land on her shoulder, but she also didn't want to hear the bird's condescending remarks right now. It had been hard not to overhear Shyvana and Jarvan's fight from where she had concealed herself in the corner of the room, using an old access hatchway in the school building's clock tower to get out of the storm for a while. She had crept around the building for a time; she blended in pretty well with the few remaining students in the halls, even with Valor on her shoulder. She had passed several students who carried veterinary books, so Quinn had just let herself stroll through the building as if she owned the place. She had sent Valor out that morning after Jarvan when the storm had been a bit lighter, and taken the time to wander around the Medical School a bit more, exploring while she had the chance. She had always wanted to go to medical school, but she had been surprised at how stuffy the walls and rooms were compared to the great outdoors.

Despite his absense, Quinn was glad she was along at the time so she could avoid all of Valor's snippy remarks, but she also didn't want the eagle to know just how happy she was when she was out with him. She grinned to herself. If that bird knew it, I think his head might just inflate till he could simply float away. She giggled softly at the image in her head. Quinn sighed, turning back towards the prince as he trudged along in the knee deep snow. She nodded to herself once before setting off after him, shaking her head.

"He would have to pick the roughest neighborhood of all to wander into and everything." Quinn grinned. "At least Valor isn't here to pester me about making a pass at Jarvan while he's alone." She rolled her eyes as she trudged through the snow.


Jarvan trudged slowly through the snow, not looking where he was going, simply letting his legs carry him wherever they fancied. Jarvan watched silently as the snow came down around him, pooling at his feet, growing deeper with every passing minute. He paused and looked around, his eyes dancing around the strangely idyllic world, large structures dressed in quartz and marble rising up around him like the mountain ranges of the Freljord wastes. Ice hung from all of the different structures and the graceful decorations looked more haunting than beautiful with icy fangs hanging from every ledge and wind-swept snowy blankets dressing the left side of everything.

"Where did I end up?" Jarvan mouthed, turning his jacket lapel up against the wind and chill, glancing around, frowning as he tried to place himself within the city. His frown darkened a bit as he looked around for a street sign, but everything but the few other plodding shadows also trudging in the snow gave no distinctive signs that they belonged to any one district of the city.

A pair of rather hulking snow shrouded figures trudged to a stop not too far distant and Jarvan hunched over, pushing through the snow deeper into the unidentifiable area, whatever carried him further away from the medical school and the shame that hung above his neck like a guillotine poised to cleave his head from his shoulders.

I am such a moron! A massive fucking idiot! Jarvan told himself for the hundredth time as he trudged through the snow. Why must I always jump to conclusions so rashly? Of course Elvarran knew nothing about this, why would she? Jarvan ran a hand over his face and grimaced, sighing heavily as he shivered against a blast of icy wind. That doesn't change the responsibility though, father. I knew you to be calculating and manipulative, but this takes it to whole new levels. This is a new low even for you.

Jarvan was so lost in his thoughts, staring at the snowy white ground in front of him that he didn't realize he was walking directly towards another snow-cloaked figure. Jarvan bumped into him, starting and bouncing back, his arms flailing as he struggled to stay upright as he boots caught in the knee deep snow drifts.

"Watch wher' yah's goin!" The man snarled angrily, his dark skin and his low drawn hood hiding his eyes even in the blinding white snowstorm. Jarvan stepped back and his eyes quickly looked over the man, a frown on his face as he took in the slick black cloak that hung, bulging with a heavy jacket underneath, drawn tight around his shoulders against the cold wind. The slick looking cloak was dotted with snow, but much of the icy precipitation slid over him like he wasn't even there.

"Pardon me." Jarvan mumbled, shaking his head to try and quell the surprise he felt. The man bent forward slightly, getting a better look at the prince and then his mouth hung open for a few moments.

"Oi, wait a minut..." The man said softly, a frown befalling what Jarvan could see of his hood shrouded face. "You's tha prince, ain't ya?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jarvan said awkwardly, trying to slouch and duck his chin inside the collar of his jacket to hide his face, but the man already had him in his sights. The man leaned down again as a thin smile spread over his face and he clapped Jarvan on the shoulder.

"You's tha prince!" He said jovially, though his voice was cold as if he wasn't so much happy as surprised. "I knew I recognized yah! What chu doin' down 'ere in the docks for, eh?" He entrapped Jarvan under a heavy arm, though part of it was his weight, he had to stand on the tip of his toes to get his arm up high enouhg. He grasped Jarvan's hand in his own, though it felt frail to the touch, slightly unexpected for a dock worker or sailor.

Jarvan stood up straighter and looked around again, realizing what he had been looking at. The towers and massive buildings to his right weren't actual buildings but ships trapped in the ice that barricaded the inner harbor. The eerie creak and the gentle rocking of the ships cut through the wind now that he paid attention to them, the shapes beginning to take form amid the snow and ice. What he had thought was decorative stone work turned out to be mast and rigging for large ships, the ropes and wooden beams thoroughly iced over and coated in a thick blanket of snow. The large archways he had passed through weren't actual archways, but the support structures for the large rail mounted derricks and cranes that loaded and unloaded the smaller ships that did not carry their own lift equipment. He looked skywards and could barely pick the long booms out from the sky, only a pale shadow against a paler sky. The men who wandered the streets must have been guards and dockworkers, moving from inns and taverns to new watering holes for entertainment of company amid the darker, seedier places that the docks offered as a refuge to those who came in on ships and were not allowed deeper into the city.

"Just taking a calming walk." Jarvan lied, refusing to admit how he was running from his responsibilities and his screw ups. "I needed to get away from all of it for a little while."

"Unner'stanble." The man murmured, nodding his head sagely, though Jarvan doubted the thickly accented man understood anything about the royal prince at all. "Sometimes tha' werld is jus a bit too big, ya know? It helps to get away now and then."

Okay, so maybe he does know. Jarvan shook his head and tried to slide his hand from the man's grip, but despite the frail feeling fingers, he had a powerful hold on Jarvan's hand. "It does. Now if you don't mind, I must be getting back." Or at least away from you.

"Perhaps you'd let dis ole sailor shows ya a bit'o hospitality in return fa ya nation's graciously letting me sails into port?" The man wrapped an arm tighter around the prince's shoulders and started to steer him towards a street corner where the noisy clink of glasses and the rabble of heated conversation echoed from within a tavern, the windows glowing an inviting golden color against even the harshest of winter storms. "I'd hate ta' miss mah chance to show me 'preciation."

"You're too kind." Jarvan said, trying to duck away, but the man was already steering him towards the tavern doorway. "But really, I must be-..."

"Nonsense!" The man said, his smile showing beneath his hood again as he started to push the prince along. "Ain't nothing gun do ya beh'er in this weather than ah hearty glass of ale and something hot to drink! Come on now, yous look troubled. Pah'haps I can lend me ear and ease yer troubled mind."

"I don't know you from the snow underfoot." Jarvan growled softly under his breath, something dangerous flashing through his eyes as the man guided him up to the bar. But what harm could come from letting a senile old sailor who won't be in port but for a few days hear me out? Maybe he'll have some advice.

"A drink does sound nice." Jarvan muttered. He sighed heavily and shook his head. I'm probably going to pay hell for this but fuck it. I needed to cool my head anyways. "Just don't use my name. No sense in spreading it about right now when I seek to escape the prying eyes of others."

"Aye." The man said with a soft chuckle. "I can do tha'."

The bar was crowded, but the old sailor managed to find a table in the back that was secluded enough that there were no prying eyes that would be gazing upon the prince while he shared a drink with the man. An old barmaid approached, glancing at the prince, his tired, haggard look doing well enough to hide his identity while she waved a hand in recognition to the sailor. He tugged the edge of his hood in a mock tip of the hat, a wry grin showing just under his hood in the dim golden light of the tavern.

"The regular, I presume?" She said, tucking her tray under one arm and posting her fist upon her hip as she watched the sailor. He nodded and then turned to the prince. "And for you, young'n?"

"Coffee." Jarvan said gruffly, tugging ice from his mane of twisted black hair.

"Put a few shots of whiskey in it, on me." The sailor grunted, patting the prince on the shoulder.

"What's the celebration?" The barmaid said, raising an eyebrow as a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Cold weather and future prospects." The man announced, chuckling aloud and clapping Jarvan on the shoulder.

"Sounds plenty a reason to me." The waitress said, wearing an easy smile as she turned away, shrugging. "Be right back with your drinks, boys."

"So, old man, what should I call you?" Jarvan said, leaning heavily on the table.

"You can call me wha erryone else does: Deadeye." The sailor said, raising his hands to his hood. Jarvan frowned and started to open his mouth to ask why, but the man pulled his hood back to reveal a large, dark eye patch that wrapped around his head and covered his right eye. A gruesome spider's web of scars escaped around the edges, and Jarvan realized where the name came from. "A bit dauntin', I know, but sailors is rough folk." He chuckled. "Stupid names and bad humor usually jus' follows."

Jarvan snorted, nodding solemnly and looked around the tavern to avoid staring at the man's eye patch. There was a motley collection of sailors, loose women, dock workers and some of the roughest looking guards Jarvan had ever seen in Demacia hanging around the bar. Many were crowded around tables and talked in hushed tones, little cliques of men in uniforms interspersed with the grungy cloaks of poor laborers and salty dogs that looked and smelled as if they hadn't bathed in weeks. The bar itself was much more lively as drinks were passed around and heavy drinkers sloshed their flagons of ale about jovially in mock salutes, toasts to this, that, and the other getting cried out every few minutes. Women buzzed about like flies, jumping from man to man to offer comfort for the evening or even a few hours, if that. While strictly outlawed in the city-state of Demacia, Jarvan watched as the guards paid no heed to the men who wandered away with a woman on their arm, as long as no exchange of money got passed in the open. Jarvan watched a few times as women accepted coins under the edge of the bar or under tables as he scanned the bar, but the officers and guards kept to their drinks instead of bothering what they pretended not to see. They were too absorbed in conversations in hushed tone to notice what was obvious even to the dullest of eyes.

The door opened and a young woman walked in, shaking snow from her cloak and stamping ice from her boots. Jarvan watched her for a few minutes as she moved through the bar. He shook his head and looked for the young woman again, but frowned. If there had been an eagle on her arm, I would have sworn that had been Quinn. He shook his head and sighed heavily, continuing to look around the bar. Jarvan had almost finished his scan of people when he laid eyes on a man sitting in the opposite corner of the back of the bar, puffing on a long pipe, a hood pulled low over his eyes as he watched the prince evenly. Jarvan couldn't see his eyes in the shroud of darkness that veiled his face, but as he looked at the hooded man, he felt his skin crawl. The man puffed the pipe once and it cast a dim orange glow over his face, revealing piercing emerald green eyes. A red beard dressed his chin and upper lip, trimmed back along the sides. He did not flinch as the prince watched him for a few moments.

"Oi, Runeterra ta Jar-vahn." Deadeye murmured, waving a hand in front of the prince's face. Jarvan blinked a few times, looking down in front of him, a steaming mug that was black as tar and smelled of whiskey, coffee and sugar. He glance back over his shoulder to look for the barmaid, not having realized she had come and went, but she was nowhere to be seen. "See something you like? Cos' yous is floatin on me, sonny." The man said, dropping a shot glass of dark amber liquid into his tankard and swirling it around a few times before tossing it back and taking a deep pull on the drink, sighing satisfactorily. "Might wanna rein yer mind back to tha ground or it migh' jus float off. Or if ya please, ya can always try and get some company if that be what ya desire. I could imagin da tha responsibility yous holds is qui' lonesome ah times."

"No, no... Sorry." Jarvan said, shaking his head and then running a hand over his face. I don't want company from anyone but Shyvana. He leaned heavily on the table and sighed, scooping up the mug and dragging it closer to himself. I suppose that's why it feels so lonely right now. He picked the large mug up, holding the barrel and letting the strong vapors waft over his face as he breathed in deeply. "That smells amazing."

"It's considah'd a rare delicacy in moes' plases, but 'ere in Demacia, you have lots o' coffee." The sailor shrugged, grinning thinly.

"I do love good coffee." Jarvan said softly, taking a sip. The hot liquid burned its way down his throat, the heat of the coffee and the fiery vapors of the whiskey opening all of his sinuses and leaving the prince feeling as if he had just taken a hot bath. He sunk slightly in his seat, sitting back and grinning to himself. "Damn that's good coffee."

"When you spen' all ya time down amid tha ships and tha cargo thaht comes an goes, you learn 'ow to pick owt good wares for cheap." The sailor grinned, his one dark ever glittering coldly. "Ovaflow and eggcess, ya know? The taverns o' Demacia do ave some of da bess stuff I evah did taste."

Jarvan nodded knowingly, thinking back to one of the meetings he had sat in on in the past few weeks. One of the merchant guild representatives had voiced concerns about how dockworkers and merchants were starting to skim product and goods off the top, shipments often ending up just under their supposed manifest value. It had initially been waved off as a rounding error due to the massive amounts of tonnage that came and went through the port city, but it made more sense this way. I'll have to bring this up at some point for the councilors. It might make a good ace to play.

"Now, youn' prin—err, young'n." He pronoused the 'ou' as if he were dragging the syllable out to several syllables. "Drink up and let dis ole sailor hear ya woes."

"Thanks." Jarvan said quietly, taking a swig from his mug and sighing softly as he set it back on the table. "I suppose the easiest way to put this is that I'm getting crushed and torn by my responsibilities. To Demacia and my fath—the king, and to the woman I love." The prince shook his head.

"Ah, women troubles." The sailor said ominously and shook his head. "Women is both tha boon and tha destruction of man." He chuckled aloud. "Me pop always used to say: you can't live with em, but you live wiffout them long enough, you come ta realize ya cannut live wiffout em." He tossed back a swig of his drink as he chuckled heartily. He leaned forward, eying Jarvan slyly as rapping the heel of his tankard on the table once.. "Is tha dragun-girl proving more ua a challunge than yous initially thought? Or perhaps jus' a bit too feisty for ya tastes?"

"How do you know about her?" Jarvan narrowed his eyes and glared at the man, but he merely raised a hand and chuckled aloud.

"Ya shouldn' look shocked so, young'n. Is rare thaht sailors ain't the mos' informed uv da common folk. Ain't nuttin for us to do all day but drink, gossip and screw when a ship is waylaid by weatha or circumstahnce." He grinned slyly, shrugging and chuckling under Jarvan's withering glare. The prince finally shook his head and shrugged, leaning down over his drink.

"I wish my problems were as simple as that." Jarvan said, shaking his head. "I have a fiance I didn't know about and now I'm at odds with both after they ran into each other."

"Ooch." The sailor said wincing. "Yah mistress and yah future wife ran into each other? Mayhaps you shoulda kept them a bit more separate, lad."

"It wasn't my fault and it wasn't supposed to happen like that." Jarvan said, frowning heavily and taking a deep pull on the mug, dropping it to the table with a bit more force than he had intended. He growled after few moments, letting the burn of the alcohol settle in his throat.

"Do tell." Deadeye wore an amused smirk that smacked of amusement and chagrin. "Cause las' I 'eard, whenever a mistress meets tha woman, it tends ta be tha fault of da man who was picking too much fruit from da tree."

"It's not like that." Jarvan glowered, shaking his head. "I only found about my supposed 'fiance' a few days ago." Jarvan said, staring into the dark abyss of the coffee. "Shyva—the dragoness isn't my mistress, she's the one I'm in love with and she knows it. It turns out that the one I'm engaged to happens to be a doctor who was called in to treat the dragoness's wounds."

"I was ah bit suhprised to find ya withou' guard or her atcher side." The sailor said, his eyebrow raising, showing a bit more of the spiderweb of scars that came from behind the eye patch. "Ya 'ave a fight or sumtin?"

"Something like that, yeah." Jarvan said, a sad smile sliding onto his face. "I jumped a bit to far ahead of myself due to a number of unfortunate circumstances and said a lot of shit I shouldn't have." Jarvan said shrugging. "I was talking aloud to myself, thinking she was still asleep and may have admitted that I was growing tired of all the trouble that we've been through. She took that to mean that she was an unwanted burden now, and she said that we were living a fantasy and that she should just leave. I retorted with a bit too much anger and sarcasm that if she thought it was just a fantasy, I should just go ahead and let the arranged marriage go through."

"Pardon mah frankness, sah, but you dun fucked up, big time." Dead eye said with an impressed snort, tossing back some of his brew and wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "And 'ere I thaught you had jus' managed to call her da wrong name or sumtin." He shook his head, looking down at the table and frowning. "Tis a bit mah complicayted. Whater ya gon do bout it?"

"I... I don't know yet." Jarvan said, shaking his head. "I kinda turned my back and got out before things descended down to even worse things and my sergeant major and sergeant could tear any deeper into me." He shrugged, wrapping his hands around the barrel of the mug, lifting it to his face. "And they say Demacians never retreat." Jarvan snorted in disgust at himself.

"Ain't nuttin' wrong wiff advancing in another direction tah attack from da flank, young'n." The sailor said with a shrug. "I may not be a shinin' 'zample of yer Deamcian ideals and all dat hoo-hah, but I do appreciate da fact that you's not losin anything by taking some time tah look at da problem from anutter angle."

"But what angle?" Jarvan said, shaking his head. "What could I ever do if she actually left or if she decided she was better off without me?" He looked to the sailor, and though Deadeye looked as if he had been caught off guard, he scratched at the flesh just under the narrow strip of short black hair that ran from his forehead to his neck over the top of his head.

"Yous could do da obvious and jus' apologize." Deadeye said, shrugging. He frowned slightly, smiling as Jarvan tossed off the last of his coffee and then set the mug on the table, exhaling slowly. "Women may be emotionful crittahs, but they is also much smarter than mos' men." he chuckled aloud as if he knew something Jarvan did not. "Men only wan a few tings in life." He held up his hand extending a finger. "A roof over 'ead." Another finger went up. "Enough money to pay for booze so he don' ave to remember wha' he did to gets da money." Another finger. "And pussy." He shrugged and grinned. "From da sound of things, you had all da things right there for ya and you's pissing away one for anutter."

"I wish things were that simple." Jarvan said, glowering. He started to tip his mug up, but he looked at the bottom of the earthenware and sighed, dropping it back to the table.

"I believe it is, young'n." Deadeye laughed. "You had da roof and da money, but you're squandering tha pussy so as ta not scare away da roof." He shrugged and grinned. "Maybe ya needs ta sit down and haves a nice long chat wit da roof about why he's not keepin ya dry with ya choice o' pussy." He chuckled aloud and then pushed himself to his feet, tossing off the last of his ale and standing up, his chair scraping against the floor. He extended his hand towards the prince's mug. "You ponder dat for a few whiles I go and scare us up more grog, aight?"

Jarvan looked at the mug and then handed it off to the man, nodding solemnly. "Thanks, Deadeye."

"Worry not, lad." He chuckled. "The night is still young." He wandered off towards the bar, tottering ever so slightly as he picked his way through tables and the throng of men who clamored and drank.

"Have a talk with the roof, eh?" Jarvan mused, sitting back and shaking his head as a smile played over his lips. I have yet to have a serious talk with my father about any of this. He ran a hand over his jaw, stroking some of the stubble on his chin and shaking his head after a few moments. "Perhaps..." Perhaps it is time I sat him down and made him realize that I'm not just his son anymore. I grew up a long time ago, but I wonder if he ever actually realized that? I knew it took me two years to do so. Jarvan sank lower in his seat, wearing an ironic smile on his face. I suppose I didn't learn anything if I came back and tried to bull my way about in the exact same way as the last time. It might serve to try and do something mature about it for once. If I can sort all of that out with father... then perhaps it will be easier to settle with Shyvana. He frowned and shook his head, sighing. No, Shyvana comes first. She has been my biggest supporter, even if we've barely had any time together over these past months. She's done nothing but be there for me when I needed her and squandering all of this may have been the dumbest thing I've ever done... even dumber than leading my company into that camp.

Jarvan pushed himself up, a confident but thin smile on his face as he nodded his head to himself, his mind made up about what he was to do. First I reconcile with Shyvana. I need to show her that I'm sorry and that she is more important to me than anything in my life. She may hate me for hating my father... but for her sake, I can at least give him one last chance. Jarvan let his gaze wander around the room for a few moments, taking in the rough and tumble exterior of the dockside tavern, and then frowned slightly as his thoughts turned to the crusty, one-eyed sailor who seemed to have made everything make sense so easily. They may be a bit rough on the outside... but I bet they're all honest, working men and women. He watched an exchange of money under a table and then a woman ushered a man to follow after her as she headed to the stairs that lead up towards the many inn rooms. Okay, maybe not honest, but they are working. He laughed silently to himself, continuing to watch the bar. He glanced to the opposite corner of the room, looking for the ominous figure who had been watching him, but there was no one at the table, just an empty tankard and a few bronze coins. Jarvan glanced around the open room of the tavern, looking for the hooded red beard, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Jarvan shook his head. Must have been my imagination.

"'Ere ya go." The mug dropped down on the table in front of him as Deadeye dropped into his chair, sloshing some of his foamy brew onto the table. He dropped another shot glass of whiskey into the drink and swirled it once before tossing it back and taking a long pull. He dropped the mug to the table with a loud clink, a grin spreading on his face as he wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand. "Come on, young'n, drink up! The night is young!"

Jarvan wrapped his hands around the barrel of the mug and started to lift the mug to his face, but after a few moments of staring into the swirling black depths, he dropped the mug back to the table and sighed. "I did some thinking about what you said."

"You did?" Deadeye chimed, though after a few moments he shook his head and grinned. "Ah mean, of course ya did! Good, good! Wha'd ya come up wit?" He looked expectantly to the mug, but Jarvan looked determined and ignored it.

"I know that I was wrong, and I knew that coming in. But I didn't realize how many simple things I had screwed up." He sighed softly and then met Deadeye's gaze and smiled. "I just wanted to say thanks for the advice. I'm glad I took that drink with you."

"Aye." The sailor said softly, eying the mug but he nodded and offered the prince a grin.

"Now, I must apologize, but I have someone I really have to go apologize to." Jarvan dropped a coin on the table. "As thanks for lending me your time, Deadeye. Till we meet again." Jarvan's chair scraped along the wooden floor as he stood, offering the sailor an earnest smile. He touched his hand to the corner of his brow in a farewell salute.

"You could do ahn ole' man good by sharin' dis las' drink den." Deadeye raised his brew and gestured to Jarvan's mug with the beel of the tankard. "Shall yer seas naught be stormy nor deathly still, mah prince."

Jarvan grabbed the mug from the table and matched Deadeye's smile, lifting it and clinking it against the sailor's tankard. Jarvan froze as a loud shout came from the other side of the room as the young woman Jarvan had seen come in earlier sent her tankard crashing into the head of a drunk, completely flooring the man. She held her hands over her chest as if she had been gropped. A mixture of shouted laughs and scoldings went up, a few guards rising up from their seats to investigate the matter. Jarvan watched the guards mutter to themselves as they wound through the crowd. He shook his head, looking back to the drink he held in hand and the man he shared a table with. He raised the mug slightly and nodded his head.

"And calm seas and brisk winds to you on your next voyage, friend." Jarvan said softly, lifting the mug to his face.

Someone bumped into the prince from behind, sloshing a healthy amount of the coffee and whiskey down the prince's cloak and jacket. Jarvan spluttered, surprised, dropping the mug to the table and turning, holding his arms away from his body and looking cross as he glanced down. He looked at Deadeye who had gone pale, but the surprise on his face was unexpected, as if he had seen a ghost. Jarvan looked back to the person who had bumped into him, brushing some of the lingering drink from the folds and creases of his cloak and tunic.

"What the hell happened to courtesy, you dumb bastar—wait, Lee?" Jarvan stammered, blinking a few times, his arms falling slightly.

"Prince Jarvan?" The tall, dark haired sergeant looked equally surprised when he looked at the prince and then down to his tunic, a thin smile spreading over his face. "You look like shit, sir."

Jarvan sighed, and scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head. "No thanks to you. What are you doing down here in the docks, Lee?" He grumbled audibly, his eyes narrowing as he fit the sergeant with a glare. "Following me again? I thought I told you to cut that shit out."

"Nothing of the sort, sir." Lee said, a slight frown playing over his face. "I finished my shift and I came down here to meet a friend who had just come in a day prior on one of the trade vessels. The bad weather has kept him a bit bogged down."

"Ah." Jarvan said, nodding morosely, though he shrugged. "Well regardless, perhaps you'd like to escort me back to the Palace?"

"Of course, sir." Lee said, nodding his head and bowing slightly. He paused, looking around the bar, meeting the gaze of a few of the patrons who were now shamelessly staring at the exchange. Even the bar had dropped to a complete silence, not even the rustle of cloaks could be heard in the tavern. "Go back to your drink, folks, nothing to see here. Official business."

The din slowly rose again, though as Jarvan looked around the room, there were many eyes now sneaking glances back at him under arms and over shoulders. Everyone had been oblivious to the prince's presence, but now everyone seemed enamored. The prince sighed and shook his head, looking back to Deadeye to apologize.

"Sorry abou-..." He frowned. The man was gone. I wonder where he could have disappeared to? The prince worked his jaw for a few moments, scratching his chin and looking about for the sailor but again, he didn't exactly blame the man for scampering when a Palace Guardsman turned up. Being caught with the prince wouldn't exactly be a good situation to have to explain.

Jarvan sighed. "Let's go, Lee." He muttered, casting a frown at the sergeant. Though he didn't trust the man with the safety of his other subordinates, he supposed he could trust him with his own life. It wouldn't serve Demsec to lose me now.

"Of course, sir." Lee said, gesturing for the prince to led the way.

Jarvan had forgotten about the icy bite of the wind as they pushed through the snow, now a hand's length abovve Jarvan's knee and still growing. Though the rate at which it fell had slowed considerably, it was still coming down in large flakes that stood out against the darkening sky. Lamplighters roamed the dock streets, carrying their long ignition-charm staves, lifting the curious looking sticks to the lanterns and clicking a trigger, flames bursting to life in the lantern boxes, protected from the wind. Though more wasteful that traditional lantern lighting techniques, the staffs were effective in the strong winds. The sergeant trudged along beside him, his eyes remaining vigilant and perceptive despite the waning light and the falling snow as the orbs of light flickered on around them.

"So, sergeant, want to explain exactly what you were doing there in the tavern?" Jarvan broke the silence as they trudged into the orb of light of a lit lantern.

"Sir?" Lee wore a look of confusion. "I already explained to you, I was-..."

"I may look and feel like shit, Lee, but that doesn't mean I'm as dumb as shit." Jarvan said, glaring at the sergeant. "I know you're not who you proclaim to be, so you can drop the damned act. It's getting tiring."

The look of surprise that rode on Lee's face was genuine and Jarvan allowed himself a thin smile of victory.

"Sir, I don't know what you mean." Lee said obstinately, shaking his head.

"Oh drop the damned act." Jarvan growled, shaking his head. "I know you're on General Jormander's payroll, and I've really just had about enough arguments today. Just tell me what the hell you were doing there."Lee's face fell slightly, though the normally placid man's face looked surprisingly relaxed for a few moments, relief clear on his mug as he sighed and chuckled softly, doing his best to return his face to its normally clam appearance.

"Very well." He said, nodding. "I was looking for a man who is suspected of smuggling. I play double duty for Jormander in my off hours, and my 'boyfriend' is just a contact identity for the handler who I report to." He shrugged. "Normal meeting, just a different place." Jarvan glared at Lee but didn't see any lies or deception in the man's face. He finally shrugged.

"Alright." He sighed, shaking his head. "Sorry... it's been a very long couple of days."

"I understand your anger with my deception, but I also appreciate your understanding that I am still loyal to Demacia and the house of Lightshield, even if my loyalties do not lie directly with you."

Jarvan grunted and rolled his eyes. "How good of your to remind me."

"Your highness!" A voice from the street they were crossing caused both Jarvan and Lee to trudge to a stop.

"Sergeant Major?" Jarvan said aloud, blinking a few times. The lanky, muscled man powered through the snow, somehow managing to maintain his dignity as he walked, though he looked slightly disheveled as he clambered closer. "How did you..."

"Noel suggested I check the docks." The sergeant major growled, breathing a sigh of relief. "She said that you often came here when you needed time to think when you were younger."

"Leave it to Noel to know things about me that even I don't know." Jarvan said, laughing lightly.

"Sergeant Lee, what are you doing here?" The sergeant major said, turning to the sergeant, a cautious and worried look upon his face.

"I ran into the prince while doing something for my commander." The sergeant said, shrugging. "I was going to bring him back to the palace, but you can do it in my stead."

The sergeant major didn't look particularly trustful, but he nodded tersely. "I shall take him back to the palace from here, sergeant. Thank you."

"Of course." Lee said with a thin smile. He bowed to the prince and saluted the sergeant major. "If you will excuse me, then, I'm going to attend to my previous business. Good evening sir." Jarvan watched as Lee disappeared into the evening snow.

"I still don't trust him." Jarvan growled, shaking his head. "Come on, Sergeant Major. I have some apologies that need to be made."

The sergeant major blinked a few times but nodded. "Of course, sir."