Jarvan yawned as he stretched an arm above his head.

Two years and he had only lost four men. He was slowly returning to the great barrier, slowly drifting home. He had found his fears and he had challenged them and won. He and his men had journeyed across the wastes below the Great Barrier, Shurima, Fyrone Flats, Kumungu and the Plague jungles.

During his times exploring the vast tracts of land that made up the southern half of Valoran, he had met many a character. He had sparred with many different champions of the League, each suggesting he make his way there and search for more answers there. Jarvan had initially rejected the idea of joining the league, but now, he was becoming more and more interested in the group that was known as the League of Legends, though he wasn't sure about it in his own right.

"I'm here to take over, sir." Jarvan looked up from his brooding into the face of Forsythe, the tow headed soldier standing over him. Jarvan glanced at where the moon hung in the sky and yawned, suddenly feeling tired. He pushed himself to his feet and clapped the man on the shoulder, moving past him to where his gear had been lain out next to the fire.

Jarvan kicked off his armored boots and lay back on his bedding and drank in the cool night air. He closed his eyes briefly, wondering what awaited him as when he returned home to Demacia. The image of the mighty dragon who had killed three of his men the first day he had journeyed into Shurima flashed through his mind. His eyes shot open, the lust for the blood of that draconian bastard flaring in his veins. That dragon remained as one of the few challenges he had been unable to conquer.

His mind continued to wander as sleep washed over him.

...

The wind started to blow and on it carried the pained cries of a wounded animal.

This wasn't any normal animal though, there was something haunting and violent to it. It varied in pitch and jumped up and down the octaves. One minute it would be a bass rumble like the strider, and the next it would be a piercing shriek like a small child. Jarvan opened his eyes as the deranged and violent cries grew worse. He ran a hand over his face blinking what little sleep he had gotten from his eyes.

"I can't get any bloody sleep like this." Jarvan glanced over as Isaacs pulled himself up and grunted, hauling himself to his feet. He paused as he looked across the desert plains with a frown upon his face before his finally shook his head and ran a hand over his bread, smoothing it out. He turned shook his head, heading towards the small fire that still simmered in the evening light.

"What is that noise?" Jarvan sat up, kicking his legs out in front of him with some effort. Isaacs paused, looking back at Jarvan for a moment before looking back towards where the sound came from in the distance. He frowned as if he was thinking before he shrugged and shook his head in exasperation.

"No creature I've ever fought." Isaacs growled as the particularly loud shriek cut through the night air. "Dragon, maybe?" He yawned, smothering it with a fist.

"It's not like any dragon I've ever heard." Jarvan muttered as he ran a hand over his face and looked to where the moon was sitting lower in the sky. Two hours, if that? Jarvan sighed.

The sound was disturbing, one Jarvan had never heard before, like the dragon was sad as well as hurt. Its cries were ear shattering, ringing through the night with such a frequency as though it could nearly cut through your very being. Jarvan peered out through the night, searching for the source of the sound, trying to identify the direction the baying was coming from. Throughout the night, the sound continued to echo through the sky, before it finally died out just before dawn.

"You think it finally died?" Isaacs asked tentatively as he sat down next to Jarvan.

He and the rest of the men had long risen from their bedding and were sitting around the fire, clutching their weapons. With everything they had seen in the past few months, it should have taken much more that this to shake his men's nerves so thoroughly, but as he looked around the circle, many of the men had dark circles under their eyes. The sounds that had been echoing through the night were haunting and menacing. They were hollow and longing, as if the dragon was being tortured by its own mind. The beast had been struggling to hold onto every inch of its life, struggling against everything.

"If it hasn't I intend to put the poor beast out of its misery." Jarvan said hollowly.

The sounds had reminded him of the mental scars that he had come to carry, when he had been resigned to his death long ago. Unlike him though, this monster had been desperately trying to survive. It was fighting death as best it could though the tone was as if it had been begging whatever bastard gods it prayed to for life. The sound of the dragon was etched in his mind and it was something he would not long forget. With his men long disturbed by the gut wrenching screams, Jarvan decided to set out early in the general direction of the sound.

Jarvan stared into the flames of the fire and wondered what sort of creature they would find, what sort of craven, maddened beast would be waiting for them when they finally found it. Jarvan shivered as his mind began to create horrid combination of the many beasts he had faced through his journey. Disgust and fear ran through his veins as the shrieks cut through his mind like a knife.

As Jarvan and his men ascended the rocky cliff, the sounds of a young woman crying began to echo through the wind that pounded the cliff faces. With only a cursory glance and a nod from his lieutenant, Jarvan readied his weapon and quickened his pace. If the beast had seize and was torturing a human for its own relief or if it planned to devour someone to keep itself alive, Jarvan was determined to stop it from happening. The beast had denied him a night of sleep and as Jarvan trot turned into a jog, he told himself that the beast wouldn't deny anyone else of more than that.

With weapon drawn he slid to a halt atop the great stone monolith, anger marring his face and his heart steeled, ready for whatever beast was awaiting. As he crested the stone monolith, what he found surprised him. With his lance held before him, ready to impale his foe, his eyes came upon a young girl with dirty ruby-red hair who was weeping over the body of a dragon. Drying blood reached out across the monolith from its body like the webs of a spider.

"What in the hell...?" Isaacs breathed a voice of the disbelief that was stuck in Jarvan's throat. Silence formed a void around them as only the girl's piercing cries seemed to cut through the air.

Jarvan took a cautious step forward, his eyes scanning the monolith and the sky for some manner of horrid beast, wondering what could have killed the dragon and captured the young woman. The dragon had been dead for several days at least, his cursory glance of the bones telling him that much. As Jarvan moved closer, scanning the skies, he stumbled over a small ledge upon the stone, the armored palt of his shoulder pauldron clanking against his chest plate. The girl spun towards him, bearing her teeth, going down on all fours and growling at him like a feral animal. Jarvan froze, staring down at her with disbelief.

"We're here to rescue you..." He said carefully. "We'll keep you safe, young one." He spread his hands in a gesture of good will, looking left and right again as he took a step closer, this time much more gingerly.

"Sire... I think..." Isaacs voice petered out and Jarvan heard the man gulp. "I think she's the beast sir..."

Jarvan froze in his tracks and looked her over again. She's defending the dragon's corpse. It took Jarvan only seconds to realize that this was no ordinary girl as she glared back at him. She had violet eyes that burned with a passionate fire and long hair that swirled upwards around her like it was alive as she prepared to pounce. Waves of heat pulsed off of her body, and dust began to roll away from her along the stone as if was afraid of her. She took as half step forward, pushing herself up and swinging one arm up, as if it had become much heavier than it should have been.

Fire appeared from thin air and began to swirl around the limb as she skin that covered her hand began to bubble and darker. Bluish purple skin began to expand and Jarvan heard a sickening rack that caused bile to rise in his throat. Long, spindly fingers of bone shot out and between then the leathery skin stretched, a massive wing, tipped with massive claws at the joint folded back as the girl's face contorted with pain. She snarled and snapped her teeth at him, revealing massive white fangs as he nose elongated into a snout and the red hair spread down her back like a mane.

"Get back!" He bellowed as he heard his men began to pace slowly backwards. He glanced over his shoulder as Isaacs and shoved the man back with one hand, towards the steps. "Get back and stay out of the way!"

"But prince..." He began to say, the force of Jarvan's shove finally snapping him out of his fear induced trance. He look from the dragon to Jarvan, his body struggling to make sense of it all.

"No!" Jarvan snapped, waving the man aside. "Get out of here!" Isaacs moved the men back down the steps slowly, unable to take his eyes off of the beast's transformation.

Jarvan tossed his lance to the side, the metal skittering to a stop atop the stone as she leaped at him, her body turning to the dark blue, almost purple hue and scaly skin of a young dragon. One wing was held at an odd angle as if it had been badly hurt, but she still charged for Jarvan's throat as she struggled along the ground, the nature of flight not coming. Pain cut through her growl as she hit the ground much harder than she had intended, her wing crumpling. She slid froward for several moments along the ground before she kicked her feet underneath her and then pushed forwards, launching herself towards Jarvan. He braced himself letting himself fall backwards, lacing his arms around her neck as she charged, tumbling backwards, towards the edge of the stone monolith. As she thrashed, her form had grown to nearly twice his size, her neck easily as long as Jarvan's entire body. Jarvan struggled to maintain his grasp upon her neck as she tried to toss him off, but Jarvan's grasp was already set as she bucked and snarled. He puled himself towards her head as she bellowed out a piercing shriek, a cloud of flames exploding upwards through the sky. Black smoke rolled through the air marking the path of the flames.

Jarvan grasped her snout and reached around her neck, heaving with all of his might as he clasped his legs around her neck, still struggling to hold on. She tossed her head from side to side and he began to apply pressure to her windpipe. Sensing what he was doing she tossed her head against the ground, dislodging his grasp. He collapsed on the ground, winded by the impact. As he struggled to his feet, the half-dragon squabbled to her feet, standing back and eying Jarvan tepidly. He had only just clambered to his feet when the dragon came again, charging at him ferociously.

Calling on his lineage, he summoned his lightshield, a barrier of pure golden light forming between himself and the dragon. She crashed into it, and using the moment that she was stunned, Jarvan leaped forth and grappled with the dragon again. He wrapped an arm around her neck again and drove her snout down upon his arm, applying pressure. She struggled again, trying to shake his grasp loose, but soon it fell docile, the lack of air causing her to black out. As the creature finally collapsed, Jarvan hit the ground. As he gasped for breath, he looked to the side. Where there had been a dragon before now lay a young woman with hair as red as blood. She lay quietly upon the ground, her chest heaving as she sucked air into her lungs.

Jarvan rolled onto his back, still gasping for breath, his heart pounding in his ears. The young half-dragoness was silent, having fallen still, her naked form lying on the ground next to him. He looked her over, her pale face framed by the dirty red hair. Dark circles were under her eyes, her faced bruised and dirty, teary streaks across her cheeks. Jarvan sat up, looking up at the sky and wondering what had possessed him to do something so foolish. His men surged forth, moving to her still form with bindings ready.

"Stay back, captain!" Isaacs shouted, but the glare Jarvan gave Isaacs immediately brought the man to a crashing halt, silencing him. He waved them away, searching for his voice. He was hoarse, his throat dry from the fear and the effort that had consumed his heart while he had struggled with the half-dragoness.

"Stay back." Jarvan croaked.

With looks of surprise on their faces as his men looked on, Prince Jarvan drew a blanket and wrapped the young half-dragoness in it, doing his best to preserve her modesty. She had a pretty face, which looked almost serene in the early morning light. Jarvan ordered his men to stand guard and to notify him when she awoke, and to not take any action against her other than keeping her here. With the shock still upon their faces they slowly acknowledged, moving to set up a campsite. Jarvan sensed the unease in the air, the sensation almost palpable. The men went about their morning, preparing a small cook fire and doing their best to not discuss the girl with hushed tones.

Despite the chatter, Jarvan's mind was muddled with confusion and he needed time to think. He perched himself on the edge of the cliff, his mind a jumble as he began to sort out his thoughts, his gaze sneaking back to the bundle topped with blood red. His body had acted without orders, subduing the dragoness, not killing her. The image of her standing over the dead Dragon, wearing nothing but the caked on blood and dirt hung in his mind.

This young half-dragoness... just who is she?

Jarvan pondered the shifting sands of the Shurima desert with trepidation, his mind racing in circles. His feelings were like the sands of the desert, constantly shifting and eternally moving.

"Your legacy shall drift away, blown into eternity, like the sands of the desert."

The words were stuck in his head, the advice he had been given striking him as oddly painful and true. The more he thought about it, the less he seemed to care about his so called 'legacy' and more about the actions that defined him. When Jarvan had originally met the Curator of the Sands, he wasn't exactly how to approach the scholarly creature. He easily stood two or three feet taller than Jarvan, who was taller than average at six foot six. The dog headed librarian was anything but ferocious though, more at home among his books and the ruins of the Shurima desert than the League of Legends. Jarvan initially raised his lance in defense, his search leading him into the desert. However, as he charged the beast with the glowing eyes and the massive staff, he felt himself slow, his body growing weak and brittle. He slowed to almost nothing, falling to his knees in exhaustion. The Anubis watched him for a few seconds, his ears twitching as Jarvan's men stirred restlessly behind them as the Anubis brought his staff close to the neck of their prince.

"What brings you to these hallowed grounds with such malicious intent?" His voice rang out around them, rumbling with a deafening tone, echoing through the ruins.

"I've come to challenge you!" Jarvan struggled to shout, his voice hoarse and his chest heaving in exhaustion.

"Do not try my patience." His voice rang out again, his temper obviously growing short. "You now stand where angels fear to tread."

"I fear no man!" Jarvan tried to shout, his voice growing smaller and smaller, getting stuck in his throat.

"Your soul will be measured." He bellowed, his height nearly tripling, a raging sandstorm erupting below his feet. Stones and rubble were lifted into the air, swirling faster and faster, threatening to tear the very ground out from under their feet. Jarvan watched as his staff came down towards his head. He froze, his body bracing for the blow that would surely crush his skull. Swain's face loomed in front of his eyes, taunting his once more.

...

Once again... the blow never came. The curator simply stood there, eying Jarvan curiously.

"You need not kneel before me, merely treat me with the respect you would your average man." the curator spoke serenely, the echo gone. Jarvan stood up slowly, reconsidering the Anubis. "Stay your blade young one." Jarvan nodded slowly, throwing his lance over his shoulder. In the near week that Jarvan and his men had been with Nasus, Jarvan had learned much, but Nasus continued to speak in riddles for much of the break from their fighting and journeying. There was something else that he had been told by the rather enigmatic creature during their long conversations together though, sticking in Jarvan's memory.

"When all is said done, your legacy is only a reason for people to remember you when you have passed on. Define yourself by your actions, not by your achievements."

Jarvan had been struggling to understand exactly what the Curator of the Sands had meant when he had spoken those words at their departure. There were times that he often reconsidered the words, trying to discern the difference between actions and achievements.

Actions and achievements are the same thing... are they not?

Jarvan frowned, debating over it for the hundredth time.

"PRINCE!" Jarvan was torn from his recollection and meditation. He looked around, expecting an attack but he was only met with the sight of his men crowded around a small cook fire as they prepared supper, a pot simmering over the weak flames. They had huddled down in one corner of the bowl like depression that the stone monolith consisted of. There were steps down into the basin, a natural spring which trickled water, and a massive stone overhang that sheltered much of the plateau from the sun and the elements. The dragoness lay beside the dead dragon atop the overhang, another set of winding steps leading up atop of it. From opposite the overhand there was a step stone stair case the wound down the monolith towards the mountains that made up the Great Barrier. There were pillars in various states of ruin along the lip, signifying this monolith's roll as an ancient watch tower from long ago.

He wondered where they had gotten the wood but dismissed it, the smell wafting over and making him realize he was ravenous. He looked into the sky, the sun beginning to set, a flock of ravens circling overhead. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he pulled himself to his feet, his lance clinking against the bones that dotted and decorated his armor. He turned, putting his back to the sun and examining the small plateau. On one side, the body of the dragon lying rotting and still, on the other the body of the young dragoness stirring beside him.

Jarvan peered over his shoulder and checked the sun. It was a blazing orange color, quickly becoming a deep and bloody crimson color as time swept by. It was an ominous omen for sure, but many a sun had been just as foreboding and nothing had come of it. A youngish short blonde haired man came striding up the stone steps.

"The she-dragon stirs, sire." Forsythe said, leaning in, his voice soft as if he feared disturbing her.

As one of the youngest members of the group at a sparse twenty-three, Forsythe was still a seasoned veteran of combat. He had served several tours of duty directly under Jarvan's command and on multiple occasions he had proven himself to be an ingenious and tenacious fighter, often wading into the worst situations to stand at the Prince's side. Jarvan could read Forsythe's uneasiness, his hand resting on his sword, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side. Underneath his dirty blonde mop of hair, Jarvan could see the ever so small crease in his brow. Jarvan put a hand on his shoulder nodding silently. The gesture may not have looked like much to most, but it easily put all of the men at ease for now.

"Don't worry." Jarvan said, nodding. Forsythe nodded in return, the doubt in his face evaporating.

"Sir." Forsythe said, letting out a breath of air he seemed to have been unconsciously holding. Jarvan smiled weakly. To be honest, he didn't even know what he was doing or what he planned on doing with the young dragoness. He turned and watched her for a few seconds, her shoulders heaving with the deep breathing of sleep. She was stirring though, her hands going to the blanket, pulling it over herself as she slept.

The dirty reddish hair flopped about a bit, tossing and turning beneath the rough woolen blanket. Jarvan felt a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Despite her rather ragged exterior, the girl had a striking and rather inhuman beauty about her, beneath all of the grime and blackened dragon blood. Jarvan watched her, quietly contemplating the pale skin and the fiery red hair, wondering exactly why he had decided to only subdue her rather than kill her.

In two years, Jarvan had slain bandit lords, dragons, stone golems, berserkers, lizard elders, griffons, trolls, and every sort of mythical beast you could imagine, many with ease. Never once had he stayed his blade in the face of a vicious enemy, but for this young woman, who had been crying over the body of a dragon… Jarvan had thrown his weapon aside and dove head first at her, doing all he could to subdue her. He took a step in the opposite direction, turning back to the cliff and looking out over the vastness of the desert.

There had been rumors of a half-dragoness floating around the barrier towns, carried on the words and whispers of those who still believed the dragons to exist in the wild, outside of the control of the burgeoning League of Legends. Dragons were extremely elusive creatures who preferred the company of their mates or solitude to being around other races that they considered 'inferior' to themselves. They often retreated to the farthest reaches of the southern half of Valoran, taking advantage of the heat and desolate terrain. There were those that journeyed closer to civilization though. Often times they were the target of big game hunters and military parties, their aggressive territorial nature impeding the expansion of the nation states that had formed, each vying for more territory than the other. With such rapid expansionism, dragons had often been driven from their homes and cast out into the wilds to start a new.

There were ...exceptions though.

...

"Why have you come here?" Jarvan spun, coming face to face with the young woman at the last second before she bowled him over. Jarvan rolled head over heels, ending up on his back, staring upwards into the sky. The Dragoness was poised on all fours, ready to launch herself at Jarvan again. Jarvan rolled onto his stomach after a few seconds and pushed himself to his feet. Several of the men ran up, the look of surprise on their faces quite clear as they had dropped everything they were doing and sprinted to stand at their Prince's side.

"Stay back sire!" One of the men began to say, but Jarvan cut him off as he approached the young woman slowly. One of his men tried to hand him his lance, but Jarvan merely pushed it away. He tossed his helmet to the side and unclasped his shoulder pauldrons, the heavily armored and horn spiked armor pieces falling away. Forsythe charged forward, his sword brandished. He raised it over his head and began to bring it down, but the dragoness simply swatted him aside. He crashed into the stone wall, ending up crumpled up on the ground. She loomed over him, his sword held between them as he struggled to regain his footing. She grabbed it from him, a rather disgruntled look on her face, bent the blade into a ninety degree angle and tossed it aside. She raised her hand up, flames flickering along her flattened hand.

Jarvan sprinted and dove, cannonballing into the dragoness and knocking her away, the two of them grappling through the air. Jarvan crashed down on top of her, restraining her as best her could. She managed to get her legs to her chest though, and was able to kick Jarvan backwards. He skidded backwards on his back, ending up at the feet of his men. They hauled him to his feet and stood at arms, several of their personal weapons drawn. Forsythe groaned as he pulled himself to sit up, groping his boot for his knife.

"Stupid bit…-" He started to gripe, only to be cut off as Jarvan placed his hand over the young soldiers chest, silencing him immediately. He glanced at Forsythe briefly, only shaking his head from side to side. Jarvan stepped forward, pulling a length of rope from his belt and holding it at his side.

"Why have you come here?" she hissed again, her hair cascading around her face. Her expression was angry and bore the signs of a deep seated grudge against Jarvan and his men.

"Calm down," Jarvan said, trying to placate the young half dragoness, handing the rope over to one of his men. "We only wish to talk." He took a step forward, his palms raised to her to show that he was unarmed and meant no harm to her. She looked almost surprised at the gesture, but as he took a second step towards her, she took her own step back, a foreign look upon her face. It was only there for a split second, but Jarvan read the expression and slight change in posture in an instant.

Fear. She was afraid.

Jarvan took another step forward and, matching him, the dragoness took another step back. Her foot bumped into the wall. Fight or flight and there was no longer anywhere to retreat to. Something must have triggered in her mind because at that, the anger on her face returned and she launched herself through the air, her hands aimed straight at Jarvan's neck.

He stepped into the jump and brought his shoulder up hard, right into her stomach. Her claw like fingernails raked over his cheek though, leaving a set of deep gashes on his cheek. She scrabbled on his shoulder, as he spun and brought her down across his body to land roughly on his knee. He had instinctively brought his elbow up to crush her skull and had begun to bring it down to finish her, but he froze as the anger returned to fear for another instant. Taking advantage of his second of hesitation, she twisted and yanked his leg out from under him, sending him sprawling onto the ground. She rolled onto his chest and brought her hand up, plunging her flattened hand straight at his eye. He jerked his head to the side, her hand striking the stone with a sickening sound that was a mix of shattering bone and rock. She froze, the pain welling in her eyes. Jarvan tossed her aside and rolled on top of her, pinning one arm beneath her back. He froze, staring into her angry face, into her almost magenta colored eyes. Through the anger, he could see the fear, but behind that fear there was a dim fire. It wasn't aimed at him, but skyward, as if she was cursing her fate and challenging the heavens.

He paused, but kept her pinned. With a nod of his head, he was tossed the rope. Keeping her securely pinned, Jarvan tossed her onto her stomach and trussed her hand and then her legs. She writhed against the bindings for a few seconds, but they were too tight and she was obviously too famished to actually fight against Jarvan's mass. Satisfied she wouldn't be able to escape, Jarvan unpinned her and pulled himself off of her. He sat her up against the wall and stood up, dusting himself off. He picked the blanket up from where she had left it and shook it off, wrapping it around the Dragoness. Despite the pain in her hand and anger on her face, the Dragoness blushed as Jarvan wrapped her up.

"Take a while and calm yourself, young one." He said, leaving her in the shade of the rock and turning away. He picked his armor up off of the ground and dusted it off, taking a few seconds to examine all of the scars in the metal and the little bits of monster he had adorned it with, building up to what it was today. He stepped away and left her.

...

The Dragoness cocked her head to the side reconsidering the man as he walked away. He had broad shoulders and scaly golden armor covered in dragon scales, talons of great creatures, and other bits and pieces of paraphernalia from other parts of Valoran.

Her father had once told her that the humans were a brilliant but aggressive species, making their way across the world, carving a deep scar through the land wherever they went. All you had to do was look around and you could see the ruins of human aggression that littered the land. Her father had told her of the rune wars, the result of a deep seated hatred between humans for petty reasons that most of the higher evolved creatures would have never succumbed to. It had been a disastrous conflict that would have ended the entire world had they not come to terms with what they were actually doing to the environment. Soon afterwords they had forcefully found a peace between themselves and forged a shaky alliance to deal with the effects that was befalling the world.

Her father had watched it in its entirety, recording and archiving the events so that he could one day pass them on to the humans in an effort to preserve the world's health. He had been greeted with some respect by the humans for it, but he was also treated as a traitor by the dragons and cast out. He was not welcome among the humans though, still viewed as the beast that he was, not as the scholar he acted as. Thus he had been outcast from all society he could have actually related to and thus exiled himself to the Barrier lands where he could watch over both the humans and the dragons that roamed the southern wastelands. He had found a home in an abandoned watch tower, a testament to the rune wars that erupted from the Barrier Mountains like a massive scar.

Over the hundreds of years he stood citadel to the pass through the Barrier Mountains, watching over the humans and other creatures that came and went. The dragoness had never been able to coax the reasoning from her father but it was during this time that he met a human woman and bedded her. It was from that human woman that the Dragoness was born. Eventually though, she had been abandoned by her mother at the foot of the citadel after which the woman fled, and Faust never heard from her again. He had raised the young girl by himself, teaching her to survive, to fight, and to learn above all else. She would have to adapt to survive in the world, and to do so she would have to be smart. Despite her animalistic instincts and unfounded aggression, the young dragoness had come to find that her curiosity was unending, and her father was glad to do his best to teach her everything that he knew.

However, there came a time when their peaceful and happy lives would have to end. Now her father was dead. The dragoness lay her head back, thinking of the rugged face of her father, a deep gash over one eye, but a smile that could melt even the coldest heart. The sadness came rushing back, leaving her shoulders shaking and the feeling of guilt in her gut.

The men had been mostly quiet, only the small stirrings of conversation echoing through the group occasionally. The food had been fixed and passed around. Jarvan had been silent though, only staring at the stew with empty eyes.

His mind was heavy with the thoughts of the young dragoness' eyes haunting him. He wondered if that was how he felt when he had accepted his death. The image of Swain's gloating face floated before him, haunting him endlessly. He had always regretted that failure, his own stupid judgment leading him nearly to his death and leading most of his men to their own deaths. It was something he regretted every day, a move that he couldn't atone for and something that would mar his history till the day that he died. There were over a hundred graves that had been filled because of him alone, many of his closest friends laying six feet underground because of it. He stood up with the shallow bowl of stew in hand and to the curious glances of his men, he made his way over to the dragoness.

"Sire?" Argyle muttered, a small frown forming on his lips.

"You're going to feed that beast?" Isaacs asked, tight lipped. Forsythe took several steps to follow him, but Jarvan cut him off.

"Leave us." Jarvan spoke quietly. "And stay your tongue." Forsythe matched his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge just how serious Jarvan was. After a few seconds he nodded, turning, and with a quick glance at his blade and a disgruntled shake of his head, he left Jarvan and the dragoness under the outcropping at the edge of the monolith. Jarvan kneeled before her.

"My apologies…" He said slowly, "Are you hungry?" Jarvan coughed, turning his head to the side and ignoring the fact that sitting there, with only the rough blanket that barely covered what Jarvan couldn't see. Her pale skin shone in the ruddy red sunlight that reflected off the dull stone of the monolith, her red hair framing her pretty face. Jarvan avoided gazing on her body though, matching her gaze. They stayed there, their gazes locked. Moments passed, the young dragoness finally diverting her eyes. She turned and looked to the dragon, remaining silent.

"Why have you come here?" She asked for the third time, her voice softer, staring into the sun. "What do you want? Why did you spare me?" She turned back to the corpse of the dragon. Jarvan sighed, pulling his helmet off. He ran his hand through his hair, setting the food aside and the helmet next to it. She only glanced at the food briefly, but there was an audible growl from her stomach as she looked away, her face blushed in embarrassment. Jarvan nodded knowingly and pulled the knife from his boot. Upon seeing the shining blade, the dragoness pressed herself against the wall, trying to put distance between herself and the blade. Jarvan placed a hand out in a calming gesture as she whimpered barely, her hand wrenched in an odd position due to the bindings. He grasped her uninjured hand carefully and cut the bindings. He sat down roughly, pulling a small bottle of water and a bandage from a pouch on his belt. He put the food at her side and gestured for her to eat it.

"My name is Jarvan Lightshield IV." He said, turning to look at the dragon briefly, pulling her hand closer to look at it in the light. She seemed incredibly docile for a dragoness, but Jarvan wasn't about to provoke her. He tended to the injured hand as gently as he could, washing the dirt from her bloodied knuckles and bracing and wrapping her hand. She shifted against the wall, trying to hide her discomfort and the pain in her hand. "If you're hungry, please, eat."

"But..." She said softly, never taking her eye from the blade that sat at his side. "This is your food."

"You eat it, for I am not hungry right now." He said quietly, wrapping the bandage over, dissatisfied at the first wrapping. She tentatively picked up the bowl and wincing against his rather crude first aid, and slowly began to eat. She chewed on the leather meat and potatoes quietly as he examined the other cuts on her arms and face. Her body was frail and looked weak from a lack of nourishment over the past few days. "I am merely a man searching for atonement and reason." He said slowly. He knew that the bits of bone and fang on his arm said otherwise, but he didn't need to give her reason to doubt him. He was trying to choose his words carefully. After a few moments of awkward silence, he finally decided to ask a question he was afraid he knew the answer to. "Was he close to you?"

"He was my father…" She spoke solemnly, looking to the ground, hiding her eyes with her long and unkempt hair.

"Faust." Jarvan said quietly, nodding knowingly. He looked to her for a reply, only getting a small nod as a confirmation.

"Yes… Faust." She spoke quietly, reverently, her voice hollow and cold. Jarvan could only nod once, his feelings mixed. He fumbled with his helmet awkwardly, the dragon horn tipped crown seemingly out of place as he looked over the corpse of a dead dragon, trying to comfort the beast's half-human daughter. The situation was irony at its finest. Here he was conversing with a scantily clad, and extremely attractive half-dragon, a beast so vicious that she could rip his head clean off if she so desired. Jarvan had set out to slay beasts like her and here he was talking to her, comforting her as best he could, admiring her beauty. Jarvan mentally struck himself, putting her appearance aside. He wanted to ask questions about everything, his curiosity growing the more he stood there. "It's Shyvana."

"Shy…vana?" Jarvan repeated

"Yes, My name. It means 'Of the Dragon's blood' in draconian." She said, avoiding eye contact still, setting the empty bowl aside. Jarvan offered her the animal skin water bottle. She accepted it and lifted it up, draining it in a single go. After a few seconds, she opened her mouth again, then shut it, her jaw working as she thought carefully how to phrase her next thoughts. "My father gave me that name. He told me to bear it with pride, for I represented the best of both the humans and the Dragons." Her voice was a mix of emotions, none of which Jarvan was good at reading. He had never been close with any dragons, and he had often been too busy with his duties to deal with women on any level of intimacy other than that of an officer and a soldier.

Luxanna Crownguard had once told him that he was thicker than average. Young, stupid and full of nothing but martial idiocy and foolish ideals. Jarvan had taken it to mean something completely different, but his years of roaming the planes of southern Valoran had given him much in the way of time to reflect upon his life. The sad thing was that Jarvan was thick headed. Looking back he had realized just how often he had missed his father's overarching messages, ignoring the politics and reasoning for the thrill of combat and the sheer hatred of the Noxians that had been very nearly shoved upon him every night and day. Looking back now, he hadn't learned nearly as much as he should have, could have or wanted to, but if there was anything that he had learned, it was to not judge a book by its cover. He slowly reconsidered the young dragoness, who was probably inspecting him in a similar manner, just as much confusion clouding her mind as clouded his. She was much smarter than she let on, and she was also hiding whatever feelings she was feeling. Jarvan wanted to trust her for he pitied her, but he didn't know what to say or how to feel around her.

"So you're only a half dragon then… it is true." Jarvan said slowly, setting his helmet down. He unlatched his breast plate, putting it down beside the helmet.

"Yes, it is." Shyvana said weakly, an almost pitiful little smile crossing her face as the memories of her father began to swirl in her thoughts again.

...The best of both the humans and the Dragons...

The thought hung in her mind as she silently reconsidered the awkward Demacian who sat next to her, attending to the small wounds on her body.

Jarvan Lightshield IV...