Chapter 24: The Quiet

He woke to the sound of crackling flames and a distinct warmth nearby, eyes still heavy with sleep. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His joints popped, his muscles ached as he rose from his slumber. Oddly, his mind had never felt so invigorated.

Jarvan opened his eyes, and was greeted by the sight of an enormous tree, overlooking him and providing shade from the morning sun. Autumn leaves fell from the tree, floating and gliding until they landed around where he laid. The prince lifted himself up with his palms flat on the ground, and was surprised to feel the rough sands on his skin.

"I was worried you might never wake," she said, flatly. Jarvan turned abruptly and saw that her back was to him, a palm held out as a ball of flame danced around in it. Her eyes were downcast, fixed upon the ground, but he knew her mind was drifted afar.

The prince stretched. He noticed that he no longer donned his armour, save for his greaves and tasset. His breastplate, vambraces and helmet, where a large hole laid instead of a gleaming jewel, were arranged neatly next to him. He was only dressed in his tunic.

She turned to look at him. Her amber eyes burnt fiercely, but this time without malice or suspicion. "Yes, I stripped you. I have to see if you sustained any injuries. Do not worry, I have not taken advantage of the situation. Yet," she ranted mirthlessly.

Jarvan narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you reading my mind?"

"What makes you think I can do that?"

The prince remained unconvinced.

Shyvana sighed. "Common sense, prince. In terms of magic, I am about as talented as a fish learning to climb a slope. You were knocked out pretty badly. I woke before you, two hours ago,"

Jarvan grunted, his hand subconsciously reaching for his lance. He used his thumb and prodded the edges of his lance, testing its sharpness. "So we are back at the shores now? What the hell happened?"

The half-dragon blinked, and Jarvan noticed how she was reluctant to answer. "It can't be that bad, can it?" he asked.

"It's a long story, really," she mumbled, playing with the mote of flame in her palm. "What do you remember?"

"Being possessed. Locked away. I felt every surge of strength and power flowing through my body, every movement, but I wasn't in control. And the demon..." he shuddered, voice trailing away.

"How could you be so careless?" the half-dragon reprimanded, and Jarvan's eyes widened slightly. He had expected to be yelled at, or at least given the silent treatment. Instead, she sounded tired, worried, an exasperated sigh tumbling from her lips as her eyes glowed, not burning with anger.

"I'm sorry," he uttered an apology before he even realized it, his head lowered and unable to look at her. The half-dragon's piercing gaze looked through him, as though she can read his thoughts as clearly as an opened book.

In a distant, the town woke. Residents got up and running, merchants prepared their wares and goods to be sold. Shyvana stood, dusting her gauntlets clean.

"We ought to get back, prince. Your men are probably waiting. We have a drake to hunt,"

"A moment," Jarvan muttered, buckling his breastplate. He threw a cloak over his body, covering his golden armour, and he retrieved his lance. "We are running out of time, the drake's trail could have gone cold - "

"Oh, don't you worry. I know where he is,"

The prince narrowed his eyes. Shyvana smirked, and held out her hand. A strange device sat in her palm, dormant and unmoving.

"A parting gift from the Grey Warlock," she chuckled.

They got back to the town square, not expecting to find Alfie and Lance looking around nervously, while August yelled obscenities at a fat, burly man. Judging from his appearance and outfit, that man was a shaman, or a priest at least, specialized in the arts of healing. His mat was laid with pots and bottles of potions and elixirs, and rare herbs and alchemical ingredients.

Alfie saw them first, and he waved nervously. Shyvana kept her head low, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of her face.

August's face had turned beet red, a vein throbbing on his forehead in sheer anger. He was gesturing wildly and screaming at the fat man, and this drew the eyes of the other townspeople. Jarvan walked quickly, and stood in between both men before a fight could break out. Knowing August's temper, something drastic was bound to happen if he did not stop him.

"Good day, friends," the prince held out both hands in a placating manner. August's anger abated a little upon seeing the prince, but Jarvan simply feigned ignorance, pretending that he did not know him so that the shaman would not feel that he was siding him. The shaman however, looked like he was ready to pounce, glaring up and down the newcomer who had barged into their business.

"What do you want? Can't ya see I'm busy 'ere?!" the shaman roared.

"Whatever it is, let's solve it rationally, like good men. May I ask, what the ruckus is all about?"

"This man is what it's 'bout!" the shaman pointed an accusing finger at August and howled. Jarvan couldn't help but detect the faint, distinct Bilgewatian accent in his voice. "He bought my wares the night before! And now he accused me of sellin' him poor goods! How am I to know, if it be him who poisons and rots my herbs and elixirs, on purpose?!"

"Fraud!" August spat. "The night before I stocked on healing salves and potions, for my oncoming journey, even a few willowroots and mandrake sap. This morn I wake to find the bottles empty, and the mandrake sap flowed like tree sap instead! Turns out the bottle was an enchanted gas flask! Give me back my gold!"

From the corner of his eyes, Jarvan noticed Shyvana snickering to herself.

August shoved an empty bottle in the prince's face, then lifted his hand high to show everyone who had gathered around. The crowd mumbled in agreement, and some looked on and sneered in disapproval.

"This man spits lies like a snake spits venom!" the shaman noticed the crowd siding August, and so he bellowed in defense. "Pray tell, will anyone defend this poorly merchant, who came all the way from Shurima – "

"He's lying," Shyvana whispered for the prince to hear. Jarvan nearly flinched, feeling her hot breath behind his ear.

" - to this sodden town to help the people in need, just to be shamed and framed? Will anyone help me testify?! This ill-mannered man threatens me to give 'im back his money! I have proof!" he showed his bottles and herbs to the crowd. "These bottles ain't the same as the one he brought! Come and feel and see for yourselves, if you ain't believin' me!"

"Look behind his tent," Shyvana whispered again. Jarvan obliged. "Look at his caravan. Six horses. All saddled and set to go,"

She was hinting at something, and the prince did not miss the mischief in her voice.

"What are you planning?"

She ignored him. "I know Shuriman accent, and his is far from it. Look at his garb, and his caravan. What part of it looks Shuriman to you? He is obviously a charlatan,"

"What are you, a Shuriman expert?"

She snorted, then spoke in fluent, rapid Shuriman, albeit in its bastard tongue. The prince shut up immediately.

"I can prove his innocence!" a man stepped forth from the crowd. "He helped me with my ailments and illness, his potions are true!"

Another woman raised a hand. "I purchased his herbs and ingredients. They are authentic, plucked fresh from the wild!"

Shyvana stroked her chin. "Well, witnesses are not hard to buy," she murmured.

August fumed. Jarvan pretended to stroke his beard, in deep thought. Behind him, the mysterious hooded figure had slipped into the crowd like a shadow, yet no one paid her any serious attention.

"So," the so-called shaman raised his chin, looking at August arrogantly. "I have two witnesses to stand for me, what do you have to say in this?"

August clenched his fists, but there was nothing much he could do.

Jarvan cleared his throat. "One question, my friend. That woman mentions that your herbs are fresh from the wild. Then, do tell me, where did you harvest these willowroots?"

"Do you doubt its authenticity?" the shaman retorted, anger evident in his tone.

"How would we know if those two witnesses are not in league with you?"

The shaman shut up. The buzz in the crowd grew.

"East of the Great Barrier," the shaman answered. "Where the shrouds grow thick and the most vicious monsters prowl, I plucked 'em on my way 'ere, alone,"

The prince's eyes turned to the caravan, where all the goods were. He looked at the wooden wheels of the giant, metal caravan, reddish brown dirt covering its hinges and steel bolts. Rust. He studied the shaman's garbs – long robed, mud-coloured like any traditional Shuriman would dress, but the soles of his boots were slightly spiked and full of grooves, unlikely to be worn to travel across sandy regions or rocky paths.

Jarvan had only seen those boots once, and only recently. Worn by sailors and pirates alike, to avoid slipping upon the wet deck.

"You must be a courageous man," Jarvan retorted. "To travel the Great Barrier alone. Yet, how is it that you have a Bilgewatian accent?"

The crowd fell silent. All watched the banter between the prince and the shaman. They all looked at the self-proclaimed healer for an explanation, whose eyes had grown as wide as saucers.

Before he could be shamed any further, a scream pierced the air.

"Fire!" a young girl screamed. A jet of flames shot through the sky, and it wasn't long before everyone realized that an empty cart next to the shaman's was caught ablaze, fire spreading rapidly. The crowd screamed, merchants yelled and shoved passers-by aside, frantically rushing back to their stalls before the fire could destroy their wares. The town square went into a frenzy. Smoke billowed into the sky. People ran and shoved each other.

The shaman shouted for help. The rear of the caravan had caught fire. The horses whinnied and reared back. He ran to fetch a bucket, and tried in vain to put out the fire.

Jarvan looked around frantically for the half-dragon. August and Alfie were nowhere to be seen, and then the horses were suddenly freed from their reins, buckling and screaming in terror as they felt the heat. A figure, then two more, climbed onto the back of the horses, unbeknownst to the shaman, and began kicking the horses' hinds to get them moving.

"Jarvan!" one of the figures yelled, and below the hood he saw the mischievous grin of the half-dragon, one hand holding the horse's reins and the other thrown in the air in sheer excitement. "Race you to the end!"

"What have you done?!" the prince shouted, obviously displeased with her actions. The other two, which he recognized as August and Lance, had already rode off in the distance, their thundering hooves cutting a path through the screaming crowd.

"Prince! Quickly!" Alfie swiftly climbed onto a horse, pulling the reins of another horse that buckled frightfully. He led the horse to the prince, and Jarvan had no choice but to follow the half-dragon's crazy plan.

Alfie released the reins, and Jarvan caught on easily, nearly thrown off his feet by the horse's speed. Another hand grabbed the saddle tightly, and with a strong huff he hauled himself onto the saddle, kicking the horse's hind to speed up. His men had already sped off, heading out of town and following the half-dragon's lead.

The prince shook his head, and made his escape.

He caught up with them once he rode a few hours out of town, down the road that led deep into the forest at the foot of the Ironspike. The rest of the stolen horses were tied to a tree, his men dismounted and taking a drink. Lance watered the horses, and the half-dragon was nowhere to be seen.

He hopped off his horse, a black stallion with a wonderful coat. Lance led it to the rest of the horses without a word, knowing his prince was displeased.

"Where is Shyvana?" he asked August, who was chewing on a fig.

"Up a tree, somewhere," August answered nonchalantly. "We have to keep riding, and find shelter before sundown. I have no doubt that charlatan had sent someone to get back his horses,"

"We shouldn't have done that," the prince reprimanded.

"Ask the beast, it was her idea. Nonetheless, she taught that lying son of a whore a lesson," August sipped from his skin.

Jarvan snorted. "You actually approve? Stealing is a crime, August,"

"So is selling false goods, but I don't see any justice being served back there," the soldier hacked a glob of phlegm and spat onto the grass. "The longer you stayed there, the bigger the risk of you being exposed. The last thing we need is Noxus knowing you're here,"

The prince said nothing. He strode off, fuming, looking for the half-dragon.

Shyvana felt exhilarated. Until she heard the angry stomps below, and she took a peep, seeing the prince walking towards the tree where she sat leisurely.

"Shyvana!" he shouted. "I know you are up there!"

The half-dragon rolled her eyes, and pushed a few branches aside. "Did you have fun back there? The rush of adrenaline?" One end of her lip curled in a smirk, which only fueled the prince's anger.

"We acted like criminals!" Jarvan yelled, his brows quirked in incredulity. Shyvana sighed in exasperation, and hopped down the tree, landing on her heels gracefully. The prince's face was flushed red, his chest heaving with each breath.

She did not meet his gaze, but there was not a trace of guilt in her eyes. Jarvan huffed, his eyes glaring at her and daring her to say a word.

"There's no point arguing back then," she shrugged. "That merchant was an illusionist, I found this totem at the back of his cart," she held a small wooden item, and tossed it to the prince.

Jarvan caught it in midair, and studied it. Runes decorated the wooden totem, and it radiated waves of heat, indicating that it was used not long ago. The prince channeled a bit of his mana energy into the totem, and found it pulsing in his hand. Images began to appear around him, distorting reality and forming things that weren't really there.

He cut off his mana energy. The totem died and the images disappeared.

"Believe me, that wasn't the only thing I found in his cart. There are stuff from Bilgewater, and the emblem that resembled the Golden Idol used by Illaoi."

"Nagakabouros," Jarvan muttered. "He's a kraken priest,"

The half-dragon gave a solemn nod. "What more, we were in a hurry. And he has horses..."

"You caused quite a ruckus back there,"

"You're saying?" she crossed her arms over her chest, and raised her chin in defiance. "You didn't cause a ruckus when you did that to the stable boys back in Demacia? Who do you think I got the idea from?"

A memory resurfaced in Jarvan's mind, and he tried to suppress a laugh at that encounter. "How did you..."

"We connected," she strode over the tree and sat, leaning her back casually against the huge trunk of the tree. "I saw your memories – your birth, your childhood, your enlistment into the military, everything," she patted the spot beside her, and the prince complied, sitting beside her.

"And so did I," he whispered in awe, his anger forgotten. "What did you see?"

"Many things. How spoilt you were when you were a child, that you were fed with a golden spoon, and your childhood memories with a boy of your age with chestnut brown hair, and a young girl with golden hair. That's Lux, right?"

Jarvan nodded, and encouraged her to go on.

"You were always running away from your lessons, and you pull pranks on your tutors, especially the one with thinning hair and a pot belly,"

"Master Liberius who taught me sums and accounts. He's a man with an ill temper, and uses any chance to lick my father's boots. He's a vile man,"

Shyvana smirked. "And you decide who gets punished and who doesn't, even if you were just a child? "

"My parents were too busy to care. Xin Zhao was the one who disciplines me, my father gives him the authority,"

"The Ionian?"

"He has those features," the prince placed most of his weight against the tree, watching as the sun began its descent. Had it been so late already? "I tried asking my king father how he came into his service. He was in the Demacia court ever since I was born, and was already part of the Inner Circle,"

"Inner Circle?"

"Demacia's small council, that consists of all the ministers and governors that governed Demacia, held by the greatest and most honorable houses of Demacia," he explained quickly. "Xin Zhao carried out the punishments whenever I went against the tutors, or skipped my classes,"

Then the prince turned to the half-dragon, their eyes fixed upon each other. He went closer, their noses almost touching. Shyvana, surprised, only glared back and frowned slightly. She did not miss his grin, and she tried her best not to look flustered, being so close to the prince.

"And he would do this,"

Suddenly his hand was in between her eyes, his middle finger held behind his thumb. He flicked his finger, pain snapped upon her forehead. She hissed and reared backwards, hitting the back of her head on the tree trunk.

She rubbed her forehead painfully. Jarvan laughed hysterically.

"You son of a bitch!" she yelled, one hand still held to her forehead. If looks could kill, Jarvan would have dropped dead to the floor. He only kept laughing, hands held upon his stomach.

The prince barely flinched at her glare, and only laughed harder until tears spilled from his eyes. It went on for a full minute until Shyvana shoved him aside, making him topple with his back on the grass. His laughter eventually stopped, and Shyvana wouldn't stop mumbling curses at him.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he apologized, got off his back and went to the half-dragon. One hand reached out for her shoulder and he turned her around, and his hand automatically went for her face, his thumb brushing endearingly against her forehead even though he was muffling his giggles. "Does it still hurt? Really –"

Before his other hand could touch her cheek, she flinched and leaned away from him. Jarvan noticed and froze. Her expression went from pure irritation, to shock, then to sudden realization.

His grin died, and he looked at her, confused. Her eyes were downcast and apologetic, and she did not move away further.

The silence between them was awkward. No one spoke. They waited for the other to say anything.

"Remember what you said that night," she whispered. Her voice was full of remorse and regret. "That night when we were out alone in the sea,"

You are promised to her.

Everything ends.

Tonight. Just for tonight, we'll have each other.

Then Jarvan understood. He gave a slight nod, and backed away. "I'm sorry if I ever caused you discomfort,"

"You never did," she brushed away his apology. "I am the one to blame. I shouldn't have... given in to my feelings. It's best for the both of us if we end it now, before it progresses further. It hurts less this way,"

You have no idea, Jarvan avoided her gaze.

Shyvana stood suddenly, and dusted off her behind. "It's late evening. We should set up camp soon. I've checked, we are only three leagues away from the Ironspike Mountains,"

"I thought you intend to sleep on a tree,"

"And get backaches?" she snorted. "We need to save as much energy as we can for what's coming,"

They helped to set up camp, digging small trenches around for safety measures. A huge fire roared in the middle, and Lance made meals for everyone. They all sat in a circle around the fire, and Jarvan looked at the meagre amount of people that was left of his company.

The proud twelve who took up arms with me. My brothers, and now only three are left, his mood went bitter within seconds, and accepted a plate from Lance. They kept their weapons close, wary of their surroundings of the unfamiliar terrain.

"We haven't got much rations left," Lance reported. "We need to hunt soon,"

"How long can we last?" August asked, his pox-scarred face was ridden with irritation and grim.

"Three days. Five, if we cut down our consumption and have one meal per day,"

"We're heading deep into the drake's lair, aren't we," Alfie asked, looking at the prince.

"Only a few leagues left and we'll reach the foot of the Ironspike," Shyvana answered. "We will have to hike the range on foot. Some trails may be too narrow for horses,"

"The Ironspike Mountains is a wide range. Do you intend to search every nook and cranny? We haven't got much supplies left," August snapped.

The half-dragon's eyes gleamed with fury. "That is because you wasted every last coin on useless potion sold by a fraudulent merchant. Haven't you got the wits to at least buy some ration then?"

"We used up all our medical supplies because you were dying and the prince insisted to save you,"

"I did not ask to be saved!" Shyvana roared.

"You ingrate!" August shouted as well, unafraid of the dragon's fury. "If you wish to die so much, leave the prince out of this. Many of our men died because of you!"

That's because he refuses to leave me alone!

That was what came into her mind, but she held herself back, only glaring at August with her amber eyes. She hated the man dreadfully from his face to his hateful personality, but she had no intention to hurt the prince anymore.

She kept quiet, swallowing her pride and her anger. The half-dragon inhaled sharply, trying her hardest to suppress her anger and looked away from August before she could punch him in the face. She knew the prince was looking at her, waiting for her to snap back. They both knew she was extremely hot-headed, but what he didn't know was that she felt responsible for the deaths of his men.

Before she met the prince she wouldn't have cared less. Before she knew him, she wouldn't have given a damn about the blood that was on her hands, even though she may be part of the reason they died.

But now she hated herself for the mess Jarvan was in. How many times had he and his men risked their lives for a stranger?

"Nothing to say?" August snarled. "This is all your fault, half-dragon,"

"August, enough," Jarvan hissed. The soldier stopped bickering, but his glare remained. "We need to save as much energy as possible for what is about to come. It won't be an easy battle,"

The rest of the meal went on in silence. The prince and the half-dragon did not look at each other, not even once.

Shyvana went to the river as the men cleaned up and prepared to hit the sack. She wasn't expecting Lance to be at the river, collecting water for his skins and the horses.

They had never talked to each other, unlike how she had always bickered with August and spoke to Alfie once. Lance had always avoided her, and only addressed her as a third person. She always thought he was afraid of her in some way, but she soon realized that it was more than that.

She did not turn back nor walk away from him. She approached the river, knowing that she had no need to fear him. Why would a dragon be afraid of a human?

She uncorked her waterskin, and dipped it into the water to refill it. Lance stood three feet to her right, and the awkwardness in the air was so thick she swore she could slice through it. Lance washed his wares and refilled his canteens, filling buckets of water to water the horses. He did nothing to acknowledge her, as though she did not exist, but she knew she noticed one of his thumbs fiddling the hilt of his dual swords strapped at his hips.

Shyvana sealed her waterskin and started walking back to the camp.

"Half-dragon,"

She stopped. Lance knew her name, but he refused to use it. What she could not understand was that his voice was free of fear or snide, unlike Alfie and August.

The dragon inside her stirred in curiosity. She turned to the soldier, her amber eyes glowing brighter under the twilight sky. She made sure to bare her fangs when she spoke, testing his response. "Yes?"

Lance's face remained indifferent. In fact, she couldn't see a hint of fear or disgust in his composure. The soldier's green eyes stared into hers, unblinking, and she knew this man was not what he seemed to be.

"I'm sorry for what August said earlier. The truth is he despises you,"

His tone did not sound sorry. His words were straightforward. "As if I don't know that," she retorted, her eye twitched with irritation.

"Only because he wishes the best for the prince," Lance continued. He placed both of his hands in front of him, to show her his sincerity. "Just like any of us will. Just like you will,"

She gave no reply.

"We know the prince is infatuated with you –"

"Stop beating around the bush," she snapped.

" – so stop leading him astray," Lance finished.

Shyvana was dumbfounded, her mouth opened slightly. Her mind was blank for half a minute.

"I don't know if you ever reciprocate his feelings. I don't know if you're using him for your own agenda. I don't care either. But if you're getting him killed, I'll have to stop you there,"

Her anger flared, her draconian side surfaced a little. "You don't know who I am,"

Lance did not flinch. His hands did not reach for his weapons either.

"You're right," he nodded. "At the prince's behest, we will help you slay the drake, no matter how dangerous it would be. But I beg of you, please,"

Shyvana's eyes widened. She felt the hint of desperation in his voice.

"Don't let him die with you. He is the Crown Prince of Demacia, we have to bring him home,"

The half-dragon was at a loss of words. They stood in silence for half a minute, before she inhaled sharply and spoke. "You are brave to make demands with me. Are you soldiers not afraid of death?"

"I've been a gambler my entire life," Lance answered swiftly. "I'm ready to put my life at risk, any time, anywhere,"

He lifted the buckets of water and walked towards the horses, leaving her dumbfounded.

The prince sat in the middle of the camp, poking the embers of the extinguished campfire with a stick. He had offered to take the first watch and asked his men to get some rest, which some of them insisted to do it with him. Jarvan insisted that he wished to be alone to his thoughts, and eventually his soldiers reluctantly agreed.

He watched the tent where Shyvana slept. He knew that even while sleeping she would never take off her gauntlets, but at least she had trusted them enough to sleep in a tent, instead of being on a tree and spying their every move.

His thoughts drifted to her. A sudden pang of guilt struck him. Instinctively, his hand clutched his chest, and he could not deny how dreadful he felt now, as if something had gone missing.

The prince sighed, shook his head and took out a map. He stoked the flames of the fire pit, and placed rocks at all four corners of the map to look at it better. He studied the mountain ranges of the Ironspikes, known for its jagged peaks and harsh climates, and home to countless beasts and wildlife. He would not waste his time wallowing in self-pity, and decided to come up with a plan to face the drake.

The mountain range is wide, how do we lure the drake?

As his finger stroked against the mountain range on the map, Shyvana's tent shuffled, drawing his attention. His hand reached for his lance automatically, but he relaxed when he saw the half-dragon climbing out of the tent, dressed in simple tunic and breeches with her hair bare and untended.

The fire reflected the light in her eyes. As expected, her gauntlets gleamed, the edges sharp enough to cut metal.

Jarvan tried to smile as warmly as he could, but it felt forced. "Can't sleep?" he asked kindly.

The half-dragon approached the fire, and sat down opposite him. Her eyes were fixed on the glowing embers. A few seconds passed before she replied the prince.

"I don't intend to,"

"Aren't you tired?" Jarvan asked, concerned with her well-being. "You should at least replenish your energy, we can't let our guard down,"

"If there's a chance I may die tomorrow," she protested. "I don't see the point of sleeping my last few hours away. I should enjoy the quiet while it lasts,"

The prince looked away from the dying embers, and he met her gaze. His blue eyes were solemn, and he sighed. "Pessimism won't do us well. We will make it out alive, together. There are five of us against a dragon. The odds are in our favour,"

Shyvana smiled woefully. "Have you slain a dragon before?"

Jarvan, caught off guard, swallowed before answering. "No. But tomorrow will be the first,"

The half-dragon laughed, but it was hollow and devoid of humour. "Ever the pompous prince,"

"Ever the hot-headed, stubborn and pessimistic half-dragon," he blurted out. Surprisingly, Shyvana smiled instead of knocking him back and strangling him for that comment. Jarvan soon broke into a grin as well, chuckling slightly.

"You are not wearing the cloak," Shyvana stated. Jarvan knew which cloak she was referring to – the one with her father's hide, the last remnants of her father's existence. The prince's fingers reached into his rucksack, and stroke the beautiful hide briefly, feeling its hard scales sewn to the leather fabric.

"It's not a cold night," he commented. "Do you want it back?"

She shook her head. "It would serve you well. If the drake were to breathe fire upon us, the first one to die would be you. You need every bit of protection you can get,"

He snorted. "You do know that I am wearing armour to fight the drake, right?"

"Dragonfire melts even steel and metal," Shyvana explained. "It's the only fire that can burn through a dragon's hide after long exposure. I can endure it, you will be black as coal instead,"

Jarvan shrugged, knowing that she won the argument.

"I'm not giving it to you," she warned. "I'll want it back. So don't get it ruined. Stay alive and stay out of that beast's breath,"

The prince chuckled. "Then make sure you stay alive as well, so I can return it to its rightful owner,"

He took a broken branch and began poking at the flames, pretending to have his attention on something else. He could feel the half-dragon's gaze on him, that she was watching him and had something in mind but did not know how to express it. He gave her time to compose her words.

"Jarvan," she finally spoke. The prince hummed, letting her continue.

"I hope it is not too much to ask," she began. "Can you promise me one thing?"

"The half-dragon makes a request?" he joked, but faltered when he saw how sombre her expression was.

"Tomorrow, if everything goes south, promise me you will stay out of harm's way,"

The prince drew in a shaky breath. "But what about –"

"If," Shyvana emphasized. "I'm trying to be optimistic here. Don't worry about me, I'll find a way to get out of it. You and I know I've been in all kinds of sticky situation since birth,"

He remembered the memories that belonged to her, and something piqued his curiosity. "You said you'll go to Ionia if all these is over. Is it because there's someone there waiting for you?"

Shyvana's eyebrows knitted, obviously irritated. "Don't try to avert the subject,"

"I've seen your memories," he continued, ignoring her. "A man dressed in traditional Ionian robes. Grey hair and grey beard that reached his chest. Someone by the name of Ao Shin, who is he?"

"Why would that matter to you?" she snapped. "I've seen thousands of strangers in my life, are you going to question each and every one of them?"

"That man," he insisted. "Is no stranger to you. When you are in my head, you felt what I felt too, did you not?"

The half-dragon let off an exasperated sigh, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the conversation. She nodded slightly.

"I felt your emotions. You feel a sense of belonging to that man, that's why you plan to head to Ionia if we ever make it out alive,"

"There are other reasons as well," the half-dragon admitted. "He... he knows about my father,"

"He's not human?"

"I doubt it," she scratched her chin subconsciously. "Probably a Celestial being,"

The prince looked up to her. Out of the blue, he felt melancholic for no reason, but it was not his place to tell her what to do and where to go. "If that's what you want, I wish you luck on your journey,"

"Jarvan –"

"Just to let you know, the offer still stands," his voice trembled slightly. "Demacia will welcome you with open arms, I promise you,"

"It's tempting, really," she confessed. "But just because you accept me, it doesn't mean the rest of the citizens will. I may remain an outcast, for all I know,"

"You'll be given a chance to prove yourself," he argued. "You can prove yourself just as loyal and capable as any other human in the army,"

Shyvana shook her head. "Humans reject whatever that is different from them," her lips quivered as she held his gaze. "But so far, you're the first to prove that wrong,"

She stood, dusting off the grass and dirt off her breeches. The prince's eyes stayed on the dying embers, once again wondering what would be their fate tomorrow. He then looked at the half-dragon, who was heading back to her tent, and called out to her.

"Shyvana,"

She looked back, and he was once again mesmerized by how beautiful her eyes were – shimmering ambers beneath the moonlight.

"I promise you that I'll stay out of harm's way, so keep yours as well,"

She smiled, a genuine and lovely smile. He captured that image and committed it to memory, knowing that he would want to remember it forever. Unbeknownst to himself, his lips curled in the tiniest of smiles as well.

"Know that I'll miss you terribly, prince," she confessed. "And that I love you as well,"

He watched her turn back, but he did not see the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

In his years as a soldier, who had served the throne for all his life, he had never felt this restless. He must admit that he barely slept at all last night, and instead spent the hours trimming the feathers on his arrows and stringing his bow.

They began their hike up the trail early in the morning. Alfie could feel the nervous vibes trembling in the air. August kept a stoic face, as usual, but his hand stayed at his bludgeon at all times, the other clenching the reins tightly. Lance seemed nonchalant, but Alfie knew he felt jittery as well – his fingers fiddled way too often.

They had never fought a drake before. To be honest, they had barely seen one up close.

Alfie watched as the prince and the half-dragon rode side by side, a map in the prince's hands. He saw something in the half-dragon's palm - an orb or something, but he paid no further attention. It has been hours since they trotted up the mountain trail, and the weather was beginning to worsen. Alfie looked up to see the sun hiding behind clouds, dim enough to be stared by naked eyes. He frowned – it was way past noon.

Alfie lightly tapped the heel of his boot against his horse's rear, and rode beside August and Lance. "The weather's dimming, August. I fear a downpour is imminent,"

"That would be most unfortunate," August rumbled.

"We can turn misfortune to our advantage. Rain will dull the drake's sense of smell," Lance refuted.

"We are really fighting a dragon today, aren't we?" Alfie asked rhetorically.

"The prince won't back down," August sighed. "As much as I disagree, we must serve him without question,"

"After that?" Lance asked.

"We go home," August's eyes remained on the road.

"I wish it were that simple," the gambler mumbled.

"If we get out of this alive, the prince should promote you, lad," August nodded at Alfie. "Staying with the scouts and rangers won't get you anywhere,"

Alfie looked down with embarrassment. "My skills have proven most beneficial to the Demacian Scouts. It would be a loss to them if I leave,"

"We have another name for the scouts, lad," Lance leaned in and whispered coyly. "Messengers and envoys,"

"Join the Elite Guard, Alfie," August suggested. "I have no doubt you will do well,"

"I cannot bear this honor, August," Alfie flustered.

"The Vice Commander has bore it well so far," Lance slapped August's shoulder plates playfully. August only snorted, the frown on his face deepened.

"I threw that title away the moment I joined the prince's company," he snapped, obviously irritated at Lance. "I doubt Commander Spiritmight took that lightly. We left the kingdom in the middle of the night without a trace, or a warning There's no telling what the king would do,"

Ahead of them, Shyvana stopped. They pulled on their reins, and their horses remained still.

"You sensed something?" Jarvan asked quizzically.

"No," her eyes were fixed on a tree. "Just a mark,"

They looked at what she was staring – a huge claw mark on a giant tree. The grass grew sparse as they hiked higher and deeper into the mountains, but they could clearly see the singed marks on the grass. August rode towards the tree, dismounted and inspected the trail possibly left by the drake. They followed behind him.

"I smell burnt grass," Shyvana said. "And blood,"

"No moss gathered in the claw marks," August touched the bark of the tree.

"Under such moist weather, you would expect moss to grow within two to three days," Lance said. "It's recent,"

"The drake has been hunting," Alfie concluded.

They all looked at him, with puzzled expressions.

"There is no sign of life here," Alfie explained. He spurred his horse, riding further down the road to confirm what he saw from afar. They rode towards him as well, and was met with the sight of a mangled leg that belonged to an elk.

August touched the blood on the mangled leg. "The blood has gone cold, but not dried. It has only been a few hours,"

"Keep your guard up," Jarvan drew his lance. "He could be anywhere. We can still sneak up on him and attack –"

Alfie saw something, and he immediately drew his bow and arrow, pulling the string taut and aiming at the sky. The others were alarmed, and stayed vigilant to their surroundings. In her hand, the weird orb began glowing brightly.

"He knows we are here," the half-dragon dismounted, and the rest did the same, drawing their weapons and looking around for the drake. The horses reared and whinnied, obviously sensing danger around them. Grass swayed, but the silence was too suspicious. A gale whistled by.

The sound of thunder shook the skies, then followed by an enraged, blood-curdling roar.

Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you so much for being patient!