Epilogue – The Farewell
They had been walking for two hours before they finally reached the end of the cave – a small opening where light streamed in, and the rain had stopped. The sun greeted them as they walked out, but they were all silently mourning for the death of one of their own.
Behind the prince, August and Lance carried their fallen brother while Shyvana guarded their flank, in case any beasts decided they were easy enough to prey on. The prince's mood was sombre, and Shyvana did not bother to engage in a conversation with him.
Her wounds hurt, but she knew that Jarvan's heart was more wounded.
The prince tried to retrieve whatever armour that was left on Alfie's body – only the helmet was intact, albeit covered by soot and a little misshapen, but still usable. The rest of his armour had completely fused with the poor boy's flesh, and the prince draped the golden cloak over Alfie while they carried him out.
They climbed up the slope of the Ironspike Mountains, and with each step, the sun sank lower between the mountains. By the time they were at the summit, where the winds blew more wildly and only a fine patch of grass grew upon the barren peak, the sky was like a canvas splashed with purple and dark blue hues, with a bright undertone.
They built him a pyre made out of branches and stones, since they could not bury him in the mountains. The prince held a torch lighted by the half-dragon's flames, and with a heavy heart, he placed it at the bottom of the pyre. They watched as it went up in flames. The fire swallowed everything, the boy's ruined body and his bow and arrows.
It felt like forever, though it only took half an hour. Shyvana stood with her head bowed, her hands clasped at her front. Forgive me, Alfie, she mourned. I dragged you into this. It shouldn't have been you. May you find peace in the afterlife.
The silence was overwhelming as they climbed down the Ironspike Mountains, following the trail to the foot of the mountain. All the while, the men did not speak, and Shyvana found it rather unnerving, but at the same time shocked at how affected they were by their comrade's death.
They set up camp as it was too late and too dangerous to go anywhere. The half-dragon helped as well, not daring to say anything but watching the prince all the same. She studied his face, his actions, and soon she understood. Her heart wrenched when she realized that he was holding everything back, doing everything to distract himself from the death of one of his men. It hurt her to see him suffer alone.
Even dinner was quiet. The half-dragon had never felt so bothered and uncomfortable before. She studied each of their faces – August seemed as though he had forgotten how to scowl, Lance was just poking his food and taking meagre bites, and the prince seemed as though he was completely lost in another world.
They even cleaned up everything quietly. She did not know how sombre the mood was until she accidentally toppled a pot and spilled its contents onto August's lap, the boiling soup scorching his fingers. The half-dragon did not apologize, expecting a snark comment from the soldier, but all she got was an apathetic glance from him, nothing more.
Shyvana was starting to get annoyed.
"I'll take the first watch," she announced, her voice so tense that she brook no argument. The others only nodded, and went to their tents to hit the sack. In their state right now, they seemed more like mindless bodies, living without a purpose.
And so she took the first watch, sitting near the campfire which she rekindled every time the flames burnt low.
She poked the embers with the stick aimlessly while she let her thoughts wander. She tried to think of other things to divert her thoughts, however her mind always came back to him.
I will miss him dearly, she smiled without knowing it, remembering the times when she first met him, how they travelled through the desert and survived the deadly Xer'sai, the people they met and the wonders she never thought she would see. Together with him, she felt as though she had had an adventure of a lifetime, and finally when they slew the drake, it was like he was the one who helped her lift her burdens.
She will never forget how he made her feel. For the first time in her life, she felt like there was more to being a half-dragon, and she appreciated it. Who would have known? Her smile grew wider. Of all the people I could have met, I have stumbled upon a noble man.
Then she remembered his offer, that she could go back to Demacia with him. Her smile died.
The half-dragon drew herself closer, resting her tired chin in between her knees.
What would I become if I go back with him? She pondered to herself, thinking of possible scenarios. Would she be reverred as the hero who came back with the prince, or feared as a beast that was foreign to the country? Father wanted me to go to Ionia, to learn of my roots, so that I could make peace with myself. But that was because he thought I would be seeking refuge thus losing the purpose of living. My problems are solved now, and I have a purpose before me. I only need to accept it.
Demacia, the word rang in her mind, and she inhaled sharply. Belonging, purpose, home.
It was too tempting to reject. But Ionia could be her home too.
Jarvan wouldn't be there. Home is wherever your loved one is close by.
Love, the half-dragon snorted. A few weeks ago I would have found this laughable, oh how the tables have turned.
Love, the word kept repeating itself in her mind, and she was suddenly reminded of that one time when they made love, when they were out in the sea, and he had mentioned that he was betrothed to someone.
That girl, she remembered. Her name, was it Lux? The girl whom he claimed was like his sister.
It was then that she realized they were never meant to be. He was a noble prince, a man of power who eventually had to govern his country with an iron fist. She was only a commoner, a half-breed that was rejected by both races. She would never be accepted into society.
Shyvana grimaced. A prince marries for duty, not for love, she remembered what August said, and her heart sank.
They had tried to cut off ties after that one time on the boat. Nonetheless she just couldn't help but be attracted to him, over and over again.
Her gaze turned to the tent, noticing the dim lighting of the brazier from within. She could see the shadow of a man, bent over something, as though in deep thought. Somehow she knew that Jarvan had not gone to sleep, and she couldn't help but wonder – what other worries would the prince have, now that they had slain the drake and he could finally return home?
The half-dragon realized – just because her problems had been solved, it did not mean the end of the prince's worries. He had other problems that plagued him as well, predicament that she would never understand.
She stood, and she did not think twice before entering his tent. It was like her legs decided to move on their own, and her hand automatically pulled aside the flap of his tent.
There he sat – a brazier of warm fire burning by his side, his body hunched over a makeshift desk which was only a rough plank perched on thick wooden branches, his hand holding a quill, scratching and scribbling on a rough yellow paper while he dipped the tip into an inkpot occasionally.
He noticed her presence immediately after she showed herself. "It's already late, what are you up to?"
He ignored her question and immediately turned the paper over, even though the ink might not be dry. "Are you tired? I can take over your watch right now,"
"No," she denied, and approached the prince, sitting cross-legged beside him. They looked at each other for a brief moment, before she continued. "Is something bothering you?"
"You've had enough to worry about," he smiled sadly. "I do not wish to share my burdens with you,"
"You solved enough of my problems already. You can always talk about it, even if I'm not able to help you. I'll just listen, and won't ask any questions about it,"
The prince sighed, then noticed her hand on the desk. Her blue-grey skin was visible, and he soon realized that she wasn't wearing her gauntlets, the weapons that she refused to take off all these while. It piqued his curiosity greatly.
"The gauntlets..." his voice trailed away as his question hung in the air.
"I no longer have to worry about being ambushed," she admitted. "Even if we are attacked, I don't think they would stand a chance against us,"
"You've changed," the prince smiled genuinely.
"Oh really?" the half-dragon arched an eyebrow. "How so?"
"You seemed at ease, and you're more positive," he chuckled lightly. "But just as stubborn and sarcastic,"
She snorted. "I wouldn't be the half-dragon you first met if I'm neither stubborn nor sarcastic," They both laughed, and unknowingly he held her hand, their fingers crossed with each other, connected tightly. Quietly, they both stared at the meagre flame burning in the brazier, not asking questions nor talking, just enjoying each other's company.
"Jarvan," she broke the silence first. The prince hummed, letting her continue.
"You know you shouldn't hide from me," she warned.
The prince gave an exasperated sigh. "It's nothing but lousy poetry," he gave in, and turned over the yellow paper which he had scribbled upon earlier. The ink was a little smudged, but the half-dragon could make out the prince's smooth handwriting – a poem complete with seven stanzas:
From my dreams I see a door,
Of which a dark mass emerged,
Swallowing seas and leveling mountains.
From my dreams the soldiers implore,
Under a thousand flags of a million colours,
Standing against an army of broken steel.
From my dreams I see chaos,
Tall spires and white domes crumbling to dust,
A percussion to a dragon's piteous cries.
From my dreams I hold a child of mythos,
Wrapped in swathes of blue and gold,
Of ocean eyes and fine gold hair.
From my dreams I hear the mayhem,
The city of glory turned to hell,
Dreams shattered and all pride forgotten.
From my dreams I feel their sorrow,
Two victims claimed in the name of war,
Breathing their last by a desolate ruin.
From my nightmare I see a nemesis,
His form, a monstrous black demon,
Tearing through me, as my screams fade.
Shyvana whistled. "Never took you for someone poetic,"
"I am a prince," Jarvan scoffed. "I have to learn to fight, just as I have to learn art, music and poetry. Lord Laurent and Lady Buvelle had been fantastic teachers, but I was a terrible pupil,"
She studied the poem that the prince had written. "You don't need a poet to tell how gloomy this is,"
Jarvan rapped his fingers against the desk. He swallowed hard before answering, "When that demon took over my body while we were caught by the Gray Order, he showed me glimpses of the future. A foreshadowing,"
Shyvana kept quiet and let him continue. She knew how terrifying the future can be once someone had knowledge of it. Sometimes it is better for one to be oblivious to their future.
"This," he nodded at the poem he had written. "Was what he had shown me. They were nothing but flashes, like bits and pieces of a giant picture. But it's enough to understand that my future is a terrible one,"
The half-dragon shrugged. "What is life without a few bumps in the way? Maybe these are challenges, made for you to face,"
"The demon said he saw my death," the prince mumbled, and Shyvana could feel fear in his voice.
"The last stanza..."
"I saw what I saw," he inhaled sharply. "Swain, tearing me apart in a monstrous form. That six-eyed raven, it's a sign. He always carried a raven with him. And I felt it,"
"It could mean something else," Shyvana tried to assure him, to no avail. "Prophecies don't always mean what they mean. It could symbolize something else,"
When the prince remained silent and unconvinced with the half-dragon's words, Shyvana sighed and held one of his hands, then spread his fingers apart and gently rubbed his palm. The gesture comforted him slightly, somehow.
"At least you are warned. You won't be caught off guard then,"
Jarvan pursed his lips. "Are you going to Ionia?" he averted the subject, and asked her a question that she avoided all this while. The half-dragon looked away from the prince's gaze, and swallowed hard before answering.
"Yes," her answer was brief and solemn. The prince's gaze fell.
"Then will you stay with me tonight? Not to do anything but... let me just hold you while I can,"
She arched an eyebrow. "I am supposed to watch the night,"
The prince gestured, and the half-dragon looked to her left. Illuminated by the campfire, there were two shadows sitting around the fire – one of them was honing his swords, and the other one was biting on a fig to pass the time. They both seemed to have been there quite a while.
"You are tired, give yourself a break," the half-dragon looked at the prince, whose eyes had turned melancholic, and he smiled a sad smile. "I will miss you terribly,"
The half-dragon shook her head, denying the truth, but her heart told her otherwise.
"It's not the end," Yes, this is pretty much it. "We can always write to each other, we'll keep in touch," What are the odds that our letters would reach each other? "We'll see each other again, I'm sure," We won't have the chance to meet again.
Jarvan only smiled sadly, neither agreeing nor denying whatever she said. His fingers reached for her cheek. She trembled slightly when the tips of his fingers ghosted across her skin, feeling the scales near her eyes. Slowly, he leaned in, closing his eyes and tilting his face, reaching for her lips.
When their lips finally touched, Shyvana sighed, and felt her shoulders relax. All her worries vanished, and in that moment, it felt as though the world belonged to them and only them.
Their road to the next port was a long one, but it was one she enjoyed.
The jungle beneath the Ironspike Mountains was full of game, and beasts that were difficult to hunt. But the prince had a half-dragon on his side, and every beast they hunted was an easy challenge for them.
For every monster they had taken down, the prince would carve its spoil and wear it as a trophy, decorating his plain armour as his personal golden armour was far too damaged to be used. Only the helmet remained, with its brilliant Demacian jewel gleaming in the middle.
It took them two nights to reach the next port, but Shyvana dreaded arriving at the port. Somehow she wished the journey would last forever, as much as she tried to cherish every moment with the prince. As mentioned, they would lay together in bed every night, barely sleeping or talking to each other, just enjoying the embrace and the silence that surrounded them.
The night before they reached the port, the prince and the half-dragon laid amongst the furs on Jarvan's makeshift bed, his hand aimlessly rubbing circles on her bare stomach. They barely slept, and the half-dragon just stared at the darkness in a daze, not saying anything.
"What will you do in Ionia?" the prince suddenly asked, then pressed a kiss upon the back of her head.
She shrugged. "I'll have to find Ao Shin, and learn my father's history. The only thing I know about him is his name. I was told to seek a monastery, and a man named Udyr,"
"This... Ao Shin," Jarvan's tongue curled as he pronounced the foreign name. "Is he like your father?"
"He claimed himself to be a Celestial dragon. I suppose so,"
"Celestial dragons," he said in awe. "I've heard nothing but fables about them when I was a child. There were only five of them in this world, and their names were as commonly heard as they were commonly seen, and so far there were no records on any of them. But to think that I've come across the child of a Celestial dragon..."
"It may sound magnificent. But I have none of my father's traits," she said, disappointed. She turned towards the prince, and intrigue shone in her eyes. "Tell me about those stories,"
"As I said there were five of them. And no one knew their names," he recalled. "But they had titles – the Tree of Life, or the dragon who birthed the world..."
Shyvana scowled. "That doesn't make sense,"
He ignored her and continued. "The Star Forger, the dragon who bestows power to the chosen ones... The Storm Dragon, the dragon who shapes influence... The Golden Sign..."
"That's my father. That's what Ao Shin called him," she interrupted.
"... the dragon who teaches creatures to adapt and survive. And the Silent Judge, who decides the right from the wrong,"
"And none of the humans have seen these dragons?"
"No," Jarvan said. "Some claimed they have caught sight of them, but most of them were either hoaxes, or had insufficient evidence to prove. How are you going to search for a Celestial dragon in a land you barely know?"
"I'll find a way," Shyvana insisted. "I have to. He gave me a hint anyway,"
"Well, you'll do fine, I bet," Jarvan assured. "Ionia is a peaceful nation,"
"Maybe," the half-dragon mumbled half-heartedly, and hugged the prince tighter.
When the sun rose, they were already at the port. The half-dragon wore a long robe that concealed the golden cloak and her inhuman traits, a cowl pulled over her face so no one could see her. A plank was raised at the dock, leading to a trader's ship by the name of Geum-gang, whose hull was painted with bright gold and had sails of pale yellow fluttering in the air. It was an Ionian ship, heading to the port of Gori in an hour's time.
The prince and his men stood, bidding the half-dragon farewell. She was waiting for the Ionian captain's signal so she could board the ship, and she stared at Jarvan longingly.
"This is goodbye then," Jarvan broke the silence, and smiled sadly.
"You've done plenty for me, you and your men," she bowed a little. Even August nodded, though his face remained stoic, and did not make any biting remarks. "I'm sorry for Alfie, and the men you lost,"
"It isn't your fault. I should have done better," Jarvan lamented. "I'll return to Demacia after this, and take my rightful place as the prince. It's time for me to learn the arts of politics, and the knowledge of government – if I can't lead my subjects well, I can't be an heir to the throne,"
"I wish you the best, Prince Jarvan," Shyvana nodded at him. The captain hollered, and she turned away, ready to board the ship, until Jarvan grabbed ahold of her hand.
"Shyvana," he spoke a little too quickly, and she looked at him. She saw desperation in his eyes, but she knew he would not force her to go with him, as much as she wanted to. She knew he would understand her wishes.
"This... A gift from me," he spread open her palm, and placed something in her hand. When he moved his hand away, she saw a small diamond shaped trinket in brilliant sapphire blue, held by a woven chain. A necklace, which the diamond was obviously shaped from Demacian sapphire.
And there was only one way he could get it from.
"This..." her eyes widened, and she looked at him, dumbfounded.
"I chipped a little off the jewel," he admitted. "It was an adventure of a lifetime, an adventure worth remembering. I want you to keep this memory forever with you,"
Before she could say anything, the prince leaned in and sealed her lips with a kiss. He did not care if his men saw, and she soon gave in and kissed him back, holding the trinket dearly to herself. When they pulled back, he tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear.
"Don't ever forget me, Shyvana,"
"And neither should you," she smiled. "It has been nice knowing you, prince,"
"Promise me you'll write,"
"I will," she nodded. The captain shouted again, impatiently, and she looked back to acknowledge him. "I have to go now. Farewell," with that she turned, before looking longingly at him one last time.
"Farewell," the prince bade. He watched as the half-dragon, the first love of his life walk up the plank to the Ionian ship, every step echoing the sadness in his heart. He watched as the plank was raised, and the anchor after that, and he counted the seconds until the ship sailed away and its size was no bigger than his thumb.
And then, he and his men left, beginning their journey back home where he rightfully belonged.
Unbeknownst to Jarvan, Shyvana stood at the deck, leaning over the wooden railing and staring at the port that grew smaller and smaller as the ship covered a great distance over the sea. Her enhanced eye sight allowed her to see as the prince turned his back and leave the port, and with that she heaved a sigh.
Her new journey had begun.
Aboard the ship, men hustled around, shouting in a language she knew she would soon have to learn. The only thing she knew about Ionia was that they speak a hundred different dialects, and it would be difficult to look for someone who can speak in the common tongue. Even their culture seemed foreign to the rest of Valoran, a hundred times different compared to Noxus or Demacia or Piltover, where their cultures at least shared some similarities.
She stared at the open sea as Geum-gang sailed swiftly. She wasn't aware of an Ionian man behind her.
"What are you staring at, child?" He spoke. She frowned slightly, instantly recognising his voice.
"Nothing that concerns you," she gave a snarky remark, which the man snorted. He stood beside her, and from the corner of her eyes she could see that he was wearing the same white Ionian robes with golden trails, but this time there was no cowl covering his face – his storm grey eyes were fully visible, and she could see his fine white hair that was braided Ionian style, flowing down his back, his ashen grey beard that stretched to his chest. His cheekbones were high and sharp, his jaw was well-defined as well, befitting a man that exuded power and confidence.
Shyvana suddenly remembered something the prince had told her. "You are the dragon that shapes influence. The Storm Dragon,"
The old man chuckled. "Perhaps? But for now I am known as Cheon-Wu, just a simple traveller that is heading back to his hometown after a long trip away from Ionia,"
Shyvana ignored his sarcasm. "You don't seem very influential to me,"
"That's what you think," Ao Shin, or Cheon-Wu as he called himself, scoffed. "What you've heard is a legend lost to time. The younger generation of Ionia has completely abandoned the legends of the Storm Dragon, they prefer the finer luxuries in life to learning their roots,"
"So, you've lost your influence?" Shyvana joked.
If he seemed irritated, he did not show it. "I've never had influence. I told you, I'm just a traveller by the name of Cheon-Wu,"
The half-dragon turned solemn. "I thought I was suppose to find you in Ionia, yet you found me,"
"I know exactly where you are," he said matter-of-factly.
"Why make me look for you then?"
"I wanted to see if you are as good as your father claims you to be," Cheon-Wu stroked his beard. "Your father often exaggerates, just like how he exaggerated the fact that the knowledge of shapeshifting is too much for anyone to learn. Yet I mastered it,"
Shyvana scoffed. "Yet you can only shapeshift into one form. Ha!"
Cheon-Wu narrowed his eyes at her, but then paid her no heed.
"Why didn't you follow him back?" He suddenly asked. She was taken aback by his question and fumbled with her words.
"Follow... Follow what?"
"Have you lost your wits, child?" Cheon-Wu snapped. "The prince could have given you everything you wanted, but you kicked the chance away. If that isn't stupid I don't know what it is,"
She felt her anger flare, and she snapped at the man. "You wanted me to come to you, old man,"
"Is that the best insult you can think of?" Cheon-Wu taunted. "Remember, it's what your father wanted. Your father's dead now. You are free to go wherever you want. Although you must come to me and learn sooner or later, it doesn't have to be now,"
Shyvana looked at him, confused.
"You won't be dead for a few decades, halfwit," Cheon-Wu clicked his tongue. "You can't achieve anything for now, might as well make yourself worthy before coming to me, "
The half-dragon frowned, "First you asked me to come to Ionia,and now you want me to do something else. Why should I do exactly as you ask?"
"Because that's exactly what you want,"
The half-dragon kept quiet, unable to deny the truth. Cheon-Wu smirked triumphantly.
"He's not far behind," the old man said. "Probably a few leagues away from the port. You can still get to him, before it's too late,"
"What about my father's wishes?" Shyvana asked. "I still have to learn from you,"
Cheon-Wu clicked his tongue impatiently. "That can come later. You're nothing but a nameless half-dragon right now. Go earn yourself some glory while you can, child, then come to me after you've grown bored of fancy buildings and strict soldier's code. Last I heard, the Measured Thread can be rather cumbersome,"
Shyvana sighed. "It won't be easy to adjust in a new society. Most people fear me,"
The self-acclaimed traveller stroked his beard, and tutted in disdain. His storm grey eyes flashed with irritation. "When is life ever easy? Are you dumb?"
The young half-dragon made a noise akin to annoyance, then without hesitation she removed her disguise, revealing the golden cloak which instantly drew everyone's attention aboard the ship. She heard gasps, but it barely mattered. Within moments she covered herself in flames, gave a mighty roar as her body shifted and grew into a full-grown dragon.
Gasps heightened to shouts of wonder and fear. With a leap, the half-dragon took to the skies, her wings spread far apart as she flew towards the direction that the ship had been moving away from.
On Geum-gang, Cheon-Wu noticed the charred wooden deck where Shyvana stood moments ago, tiny embers still alight on the spot. He released an exasperated sigh, and mumbled to himself in fluent Ionian. "I'll have to explain the mess to the captain,"
But he looked up again, where the skies were bluer than they ever were, and the half-dragon's silhouette grew smaller and smaller. His eyes turned dark, and he thought: May your father watch over your path. It's a long road ahead for you.
"We are just two leagues away from Howling Marsh, sire," Lance said, holding a map and a compass in his hand. They had left the port and entered deep into the jungle that would lead them past the Ironspike Mountain ranges. It would probably be a few days before they return to Demacia, so they had stocked up on rations back at the port.
The prince said nothing, once again donning his helmet that shimmered under the sunlight. August had felt how solemn the prince had become after the half-dragon had left, but he made no comment about it. There was no time for moping around – they all wanted to be at home as soon as possible.
The prince was left to his own thoughts, and he thought about the idea of finally getting home, after years of being away from his actual responsibilities.
It felt overwhelmingly exciting, but at the same time, he feared what came after.
What if the good people of Demacia saw his journey of atonement as an act of cowardice, an irresponsible action that did not befit a true Demacian? What if he walked through the gates of Demacia and got arrested immediately to be punished, instead of being welcomed as the rightful prince he was?
His hand reached for the Measured Thread, an item that was given to every Demacian once they were of age. They had to memorize the principles of the Measured Thread by heart, and one line echoed in Jarvan's mind over and over again. Honor above all else, duty before self.
Will he be forgiven by the people of Demacia, or will he be labelled as weak, and forced to denounce himself as the Crown Prince of Demacia?
No, he justified. We aren't Noxians. Strength is just a trait. Discipline and honor triumphs all else. The people are loyal, I will be given a chance to prove myself again.
He could only hope.
"Prince," August called out. He sounded winded, and when Jarvan looked at his soldier, August had a shocked expression on his face. He looked at where he pointed, and it didn't take him long to make out a figure that had blotted out the sun, growing bigger as it neared the prince.
He recognized her immediately.
"Shyvana?" he was confused, yet more than happy to see her. The half-dragon glided towards the company, before folding her wings as she approached them and landed upon the soft soil with a thud.
A ring of fire surrounded her as she reverted back to her human form. She appeared flushed and winded, panting through her teeth. She was free of guise, save for the golden cloak that caught the sun's shimmering rays, casting diamonds of light everywhere.
The prince stared at her, with his mouth wide opened. He was puzzled, and what came out was a stutter, before forming a single word. "H-how?"
She inhaled deeply, calming her nerves before breaking into a wide grin. "I accept your offer,"
His soldiers appeared just as shocked. "My offer?" the prince confirmed. "I don't wish to force you onto this, but are you sure?"
"Yes," the half-dragon answered without hesitation. "I'll come with you. And I will stand next to you when you ascend to the throne, in return for your kindness,"
Jarvan stared at her, dumbfounded. Their eyes met, and he could see how serious and sincere she was.
"Allow me to repay you," she said.
The prince's lips trembled, before forming a smile. They could feel their eyes watering, and it felt as though they had forgotten about the other two soldiers' presence.
Then August cleared his throat, and they turned to him.
"She's not a Demacian, prince," August protested. "She has zero loyalty to Demacia, and the people will not accept her,"
Jarvan stared at his soldier. "August –"
August then fixed his gaze on the half-dragon. "But if you wish to take her home, she has to pledge her allegiance to the Lightshields, and swear to uphold everything that is Demacian. Her loyalty is to the throne, and to turn her back on Demacia is to sentence herself to death,"
The prince nodded in understanding, then turned back to Shyvana, whose gaze was determined and unfaltering. He brandished his lance and donned his helmet, the bright blue jewel gleaming just as bright as the piece of sapphire hanging from the half-dragon's neck. With a voice befitting a commander, the prince spoke:
"Shyvana, the half-dragon. Do you swear your loyalty to the royal family of my home, Demacia? Do you vow to protect the Lightshields and the fellow citizens with your own life, and uphold the dignity of our nation so we may triumph against our nemeses?"
Unexpectedly, the half-dragon knelt, her fiery eyes fixed upon the prince's. She laid her gauntlets – her only weapons, before Jarvan's feet.
"There is only one person whom my life belongs to, and he is Jarvan Lightshield, Fourth of His Name and Crown Prince of Demacia. With my flames and my gauntlets, the enemies of Demacia will fall,"
The prince smiled.
"Then as the Prince of Demacia, I name you a loyal subject of the throne, and grant you citizenship of the city,"
Cheon-Wu had been to the Astral Grove more than half a hundred times, yet every time he visits the Grove, he swore that he could find different minute details in the surroundings – the scarce shift of hues among the leaves, the tendrils and thorns that had grown more sparsely, or the slight, vivacious hum that he heard every time he walked past the humming tree's domain.
He had shaped this realm to match her beauty, grace and magnificence. Yet it never failed to amaze him every time he paid a visit.
He headed to the centre of the Grove, where the Star Child sat cross-legged meditating in a circle of flat grass. Her staff, shaped like a golden crescent, laid floating before her, humming with energy.
"You've returned," Soraka suddenly opened her eyes, acknowledging his existence. Her braided black hair flowed behind her, and Cheon-Wu sighed at the beautiful sight. "And you returned alone?"
Cheon-Wu shrugged. "My niece has her own agenda,"
Soraka arched an eyebrow. "Niece?"
"After all, she's my brother's daughter," Cheon-Wu sat down in front of her, his legs crossed. With a wave of his hand, the soft branches and twigs around them began moving on their own, criss-crossing and weaving to form a table in between them. Several branches brought forth a china set made of clay, and a special teapot made from bark cleanly shaved off the elder oak trees. It whistled as it boiled miraculously, and tendrils wrapped around the ear of the teapot, serving hot tea to both Soraka and Cheon-Wu.
"You assume this form every time you visit," Soraka mused. "Are you so eager to become human?"
"Nonsense," Cheon-Wu dismissed with a wave of his hand. He brought the cup to his lips, sipping the freshly brewed tea. "If I were to enter the Grove in my true form, I would risk collapsing this realm that has taken me centuries to create!"
Soraka only chuckled. He smiled, knowing that they both enjoyed each others' company.
"Do you miss being human, Soraka?" Cheon-Wu suddenly asked. Sometimes he wondered if his gift of ascending her to a Celestial Being was actually a curse for her.
The Star Child blinked. "I do," she admitted. "But I also enjoy the peace and quiet you've given me. I can still help those in need – the Grove makes it possible,"
Cheon-Wu nodded, but it was obvious that he was unconvinced.
"Let's speak of your niece, Cheon-Wu," Soraka smiled. "I can see that she is very feisty,"
Cheon-Wu snorted. "A little too hot-headed for my liking,"
"What are dragons, if not hot-headed?"
The Storm Dragon frowned. "Are you calling me hot-headed?"
"Do not deny it, Ao Shin," she teased. "But why have you let her go? Didn't you want to repay what Aurus Signum had done for you?"
"I want to. Badly," Cheon-Wu took another sip. "But Signum would want his daughter to achieve something greater in life. Something that she can be proud of. That is something I cannot interfere,"
Soraka remained silent, allowing him to continue.
"There is always a chance for me to repay my debts in the future," Cheon-Wu said. What followed after was a thick silence, as though the atmosphere had grown solemn. "Have you had a glimpse, Star Child?"
Soraka knew what he was referring to. She pursed her lips, before nodding firmly. "I have. The Celestials have shown me,"
"It's a warning," Cheon-Wu declared. "Worse, it's a foreshadowing. The future has already been set in motion. Not even us can change it,"
"By then, you will have prepared her for what comes after,"
"If they allow me," Cheon-Wu said. "We are the only ones who have seen the blood storm, we have no choice but to prepare her for it. She and the rest of them. Shyvana has to fulfill her role before her demise, and I only hope it's not too soon,"
And that's a wrap.
First of all, I would like to thank everyone who took the time to read this story, and for your never-ending support. The reviews are what motivate me to continue writing the story until the end. I hope everyone enjoyed it.
Now, my next work will not be the sequel to this story (there's still a long way to go). My next story will be set in Ionia, and the lead characters will be Yasuo and Ahri. It's a short story, one that only follows the lore of League of Legends partially. With Riot reworking the lore and universe, I have no intention to wait for them to finish reworking everything just to get canon sources. Some will still be related to the old lore (character background, for example), however.
So, I hope you guys look forward to it. And if you're interested, I would appreciate it if you guys show your continuous support.
As for the title of the story: The Frozen Flower.