Garen lead them into the massive greeting hall of the Demacian palace. Flanked along each side by all of his forefathers, Jarvan IV recognized two men immortalized in gold as he stopped along the plush blue carpet that covered the smooth, dressed-stone floor. He looked up at his Grandfather, Jarvan II and then to his immediate left, Jarvan I, the first of the Lightshield Dynasty.
A few words of wisdom would be useful right about now.
"Who is that?" Shyvana asked as she stepped up to his side and yanked him back to reality, looking up at the massive golden statue.
"Jarvan Lightshield II, my grandfather." Jarvan said quietly, feeling miniscule next to his grandfather's statue. It rose up many times his height, and while it was domineering in sheer stature, that wasn't the only thing that made him feel small. His grandfather's legacy towered over him everywhere he looked, the reformed Demacian Military much of his grandfather's doing. It was something he had strived to eclipse up until not long ago. Jarvan felt his brow crease, but he turned away, shaking his head and clearing his mind with a deep breath.
"He was a great man." Garen said, his voice still stiff. He gestured to the large doors at the far end of the greeting hall where several guards stood posted. "Please, sire, your father and mother are waiting."
"Of course." Jarvan said gruffly, shaking his head. "I was merely being sentimental." He cast one last glance at the statue of his grandfather and then followed in Garen's wake. Shyvana started to follow after him but stopped and stared up at the statue, a frown marring her face.
"You okay?" Forsythe stood behind Shyvana, watching Jarvan retreat after Garen. Shyvana watched them go and looked to Forsythe, mix of emotions on her face.
"Yeah," Shyvana shook her head. "I've just got a bad feeling about this, like I'm walking into a trap."
"You know Jarvan would never purposefully hurt you, right?" Forsythe put a hand on her shoulder. "Hell, he'd probably try his damnedest to make sure you didn't get hurt at all if he could help it." Forsythe ran a hand over his head as he started following in the wake of the Jarvan and Garen.
"I know." Shyvana said, her brow furrowing as she followed after him. "I just... I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to see him after this. I'm scared about meeting the king and queen too; I don't think they're going to approve of me."
"Well, honestly Miss Shyvana, I can't think of a reason they wouldn't like you." Forsythe tried to say encouragingly. "Well, aside from the fact that they know nothing about you... and that you're not Demacian... And you've got a bit of a temper..." Shyvana glanced over at Forsythe and glared at him, hoping the towheaded soldier would catch on. "And you nearly beheaded Jarvan... and you totally just fuc-OW!" He rubbed his arm where Shyvana had punched the armored plates that covered his shoulder.
Shyvana rolled her eyes and growled, but the sound died in her throat. And the whole turning into a giant fire-breathing dragon thing. She shook her head as Forsythe continued to rub his shoulder beneath a black, smoking, fist-shaped dent in his shoulder pauldron. She sighed, letting her shoulders sink. "Well, my mother was Demacian." She paused. "I think..."
"That's the spirit." Forsythe said, chuckling, obviously doing his best to try and cheer the dragoness up.
"Hey Forsythe?" Shyvana said, looking over at the blonde soldier as she fell into pace with him.
"What's up?" He smiled cheekily.
"You suck at cheering people up."
"Sorry." Forsythe sighed as he was overcome with a fit of chuckles. Shyvana waited til he finally calmed down before she fitted him with a fiery glare, which only served to make the warrior giggle. She waved him off, moving in the direction her prince had disappeared in, leaving Forsythe to try and recover from his laughter. Forsythe jogged to catch up, waving a hand in front of his face as he gasped for air. "I just tried to do what Isaacs did for me. I guess I don't have the asinine sense of humor to make it work."
"It's the thought that counts." Shyvana said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "We should catch up."
"Right, uh, this way." Forsythe said, waving her towards the large doors at the end of the hall. Shyvana nodded and followed quietly after him, still looking around the palace in awe. They passed through a number of intersections, Guards posted everywhere, but none of them seemed to pay attention to Shyvana or Forsythe. Several times, Shyvana could have sworn she caught several following them with their eyes, but as soon as they noticed her glare they became virtual statues, their eyes glued to the wall. Torches and great skylights lit the long hallways as Forsythe jogged to catch up with Garen and Jarvan. Blue and red furnished much of the palace, with great tapestries trimmed in gold showing every sort of thing that Shyvana could only guess about. She slowed her pace as they fell in behind Jarvan, listening in to the conversation the two Demacaian soldiers seemed to be lost amid.
"What do you mean?" Jarvan growled. Anger showed on his face, and while Garen looked apologetic, the frown darkened the look to that of concentration.
"I don't know, I haven't heard but so much about it." Garen said shrugging. "But apparently, Noxus offered to give Ionia a rematch after only seven years of the occupation period. Nobody knows why though."
"That doesn't make any sense." Jarvan growled, clenching a fist and staring down at the ground. "Why would Darkwill offer the rematch eight years early?"
"Now you understand why Demacia is mobilizing." Garen said, turning to look out a tall window as he passed. "We don't know what sort of tricks Noxus has in store and we want to be ready for anything. This may be the Institute of War's domain, but we have a right to support our allies and to secure our borders. That's why the military is moving to fortify all of our outlying holds along our border with Noxus."
"And what has my father said about this?" Jarvan asked.
"He's spoken with Ionian diplomats on the issue and offered his support, both in domestic affairs and military power." Garen sighed, frowning. "He seems to be in favor of the rematch despite the obvious ulterior motives that have yet to be revealed. If Ionia is liberated, that opens up a number of trade treaty options for Demacia and we're rapidly trying to cement our ties with both Ionia and Piltover."
"I don't like it." Jarvan said, his back tensing up as they were stopped by palace guards outside a large set of wooden doors. They were inlaid with a golden etching of a lion's head, and Guards moved up behind them, holding weapons at the ready.
"I don't either, but politicians have deemed it the best course of action. Even the Council is in favor of it." Shyvana could hear the loathing in his voice as Garen turned to look to the officer who had approached. While he didn't wear the same helm as the other Palace Guardsmen, he had the same armor and a crimson sash that ran from his right shoulder to his left hip, a golden medallion holding it in place on the blue cloak that he wore.
"Colonel Walkurze." Garen said, nodding to the man. The colonel met his gaze and nodded to him curtly as he glanced over the three who had followed in his wake.
"Guests of the court, Captain Crownguard?" He said, casting a sneering glare over Shyvana before turning to stare back at Jarvan. The Prince's eyes darkened in anger, holding his lance at his side, his fist flexing around the barrel of the lance. The colonel looked over him again and suddenly his eyes shot fully open as he bowed. "Apologies, Prince Lightshield!" He snapped. "I didn't recognize you. Welcome home, sire!"
"Thank you." Jarvan said tersely, giving the colonel a polite but tight lipped smile.
"You'll have to turn over your weapons, sir." The colonel said hesitantly. Jarvan looked to Garen who shrugged but nodded. "Apologies, sir. Standard procedure for those who are-... who are not common members of the king's court." Jarvan glowered, but nodded, handing his lance to the Guardsman who stepped up and held out a hand for the weapon. Jarvan pulled the knife off the back of his belt and then the blade in his right boot, turning them both over to the guard. Jarvan stepped back as the men eyed the the fangs and talons that dotted his armor along his forearm guards and his shoulder pauldrons. The colonel waved them off.
"Happy now?" Jarvan growled. The colonel looked to Forsythe and then Shyvana, his eyes hovering a bit too long on her for his comfort.
"Your companions will need to turn over any weapons they have, as well." Shyvana glanced at Jarvan and he nodded. Shyvana pulled the massive dragon's head gauntlets out from under her cloak and proffered them to the guardsman who stepped up to meet her. He accepted them but continued to wait as if he expected more weapons to be produced. Shyvana took a step back.
"Is that it?" The colonel looked surprised. "An undersized shield and buckler?"
"I don't fight like most people." Shyvana said quietly.
"I see." The colonel's gaze tightened, but he turned to Forsythe who was still pulling weapons from his person. The colonel's mouth fell open slightly as Forsythe deposited a folding ax, a number of large knives, a shield, and so many other weapons another soldier had to step forward to hold them all. He dropped two throwing hatchets, a set of throwing knives, four bolos, a set of spiked brass knuckles, two satchel charges, a stick of dynamite, a katana, a chain sickle, and a large rock into the waiting arms of the soldiers.
"Good lord, Forsythe." Jarvan said, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh. "I understand you like collecting weapons, but why the rock?"
"I like be prepared, so sue me." Forsythe said, watching as the colonel's eyes grew wide when Forsythe lifted the massive rock in a single hand, tossing it up and catching it several times. "You never know when you'll need something to bash someone's head in. Rocks are useful. They can also tell you the weather." Forsythe raised his hand in a gesture to wait as he reaching onto the back of his belt, fiddling with something below his tunic. He smiled as he finally dropped a wicked looking curved combat knife with a spike on the pommel into the second Guardsman's arms and then took a step back. "That's it."
"Where were you keeping it all?" Shyvana said, blinking several times, clearly impressed. "And how can rocks tell the weather?"
"Here and there." Forsythe said with a grin. "It's pretty easy actually. All you have to do is take the rock out and set it on the ground and wait a few minutes. If the rock is wet, it's raining. If the rock is hot, it's sunny, if the rock is white, it's-..."
"Enough. Fine, fine." The colonel shook his head as Jarvan and Shyvana chuckled at the colonel's expense. "Follow me." He nodded to the Guardsmen who stood by the door, each soldier pushing the door in and allowing them to pass through. Garen led first, just behind Colonel Walkurze, and then Jarvan with Shyvana staying close to him, and Forsythe bringing up the rear. Two guardsmen followed them from behind, weapons at the ready in case anyone tried anything funny. Shyvana's eyes grew wide as they moved into the throne room. Windows stretched up towards the sky, sunshine casting long pillars of light along the floor, shadows hiding an untold number of soldiers along either side of the massive hall. The ceiling was dark, hidden by shadows high above, massive gold and blue banners descending from high above. Beautiful tapestries hung on either side of the hall, depicting knights in battle and arcane magic exploding like the heavens were angry with the world. Garen stopped short and stepped off to the side, watching as Jarvan nodded and then moved past. He eyed Shyvana uncomfortably, but her eyes were elsewhere, taking in the beauty of the throne room.
"King Lighshield III and Lady Catherine, I present Prince Jarvan Lightshield IV and company." Colonel Walkurze gestured with a wide sweeping motion to the three who had followed him as they approached the throne. They stopped twenty feet short of the steps that led up to where a man and a woman sat atop ornate thrones. Though it was on a raised platform, steps led up to the large golden throne. Atop the throne sat a man with a thick black beard, though silver was beginning to creep in along the edges. He wore dark gray armor trimmed with gold and a sweeping red cloak that billowed around him as he stood, the loose blue tunic he wore over his chest armor depicting the crest of Demacia, similar to the one Jarvan wore. He wore light colored gloves with golden gauntlets, and a brown cloak was wrapped around his neck, despite the large fires that burned on either side of the throne room. A magnificent golden crown, tipped with rubies sat perched on his head. He stepped down towards the group, glaring menacingly at the colonel when he opened his mouth to protest. His strides were long but unhurried, with a grace that befit his rank and told of his nobility, rather than the years that wore heavily on him.
He had piercing ice-blue eyes that forfeited no years to his son, and though the younger Lightshield had several inches in height and a decent bit of bulk, there was a distinctive aura that the king gave off that set them apart. Confidence and power poured off of him like the heat Shyvana felt burning her cheeks. He glanced at Shyvana with those piercing, ice-blue eyes, and though she felt a mix of nervousness and fear welling in her mind, she straightened up a bit and met his gaze with an even expression. He was youthful in the face, only the slightest sign of wrinkles forming around his eyes betraying his real age. Shyvana shivered as his eyes seemed to pierce into her soul. Garen, Colonel Walkurze and Forsythe all bowed, and Shyvana soon followed suit. She stole a glance away and watched as the others returned to their standing position, both Garen and Forsythe falling in at parade rest while Jarvan stood defiant, staring down at his father.
Shyvana could feel the tension in the air, like the night before a fierce battle when men knew they might not return. Jarvan's pale, gray-blue eyes locked with his father's intense, ice blue glare and they simply stared at each other for a long time, utter silence filling the hall.
Jarvan glanced at Shyvana and she blushed, staring at the ground when the king's gaze followed that of his son. "Father..."
"Two years." Jarvan III's voice was deeper and slightly more gravelly than his son, though it carried the same intensity that his eyes shown. "Two long years you abandoned your kingdom of your own volition. The blood of one-hundred and twenty eight of Demacia's finest were on your hands and now you choose to return after all of that... but not before nearly starting a war in Noxus."
His voice faded out as Shyvana watched the muscles bunch up at the corners of her Jarvan's mouth. A father should be pleased to see his son... She felt her hands convulse into fists. This isn't how a reunion of family should be... I would have given anything to see my father again. She gritted her teeth, and realized that she had started to let heat pour off of her body. She took a deep breath and calmed herself.
"I'm surprised you had the nerve to come back after pulling a stunt like that." The king narrowed his ice-blue eyes. Shyvana watched as something dangerous clouded them, as if they were darkening like a thunderstorm about the erupt from the heavens. A smile began to spread on his face, but he checked it at the last moment, though Shyvana watched it spread into his eyes.
At that, the woman stood and seemed to float down the stairs, though she wore a broad smile that showed just how excited she was to see her son. "Welcome home my son." She said, getting wrapped up in a bear hug from her son, who towered over her. "Jarvan, it's so good to see you!"
"It's good to see you as well, mother." Jarvan said, hugging her tightly, almost lifting her off her feet. The woman stood back and looked him up and down. "You haven't changed a bit." She cocked her head to the side.
"You haven't either." She said smiling at him. "Maybe a bit taller, but you're as handsome as I remember." She smiled broadly and her eyes sparkled as she looked over her son. The king didn't share her enthusiasm though, and he stepped up to his throne and sat down, exhaling heavily.
"Before we conduct any further business, I demand two things." The king fitted his son with a glare.
"And what is that, Father?" Jarvan IV asked, frowning.
"Explain to me just how it is that you departed with twelve men and returned with two?" His father said, glowering. "Though if I remember correctly, you departed with twelve men, so you can explain just who she is next." The king gave Shyvana a glare as well, though there was a mix of emotions in his eyes when he looked upon her.
"They died in the line of duty." Jarvan said, his voice wavering just above dogged frustration. He clenched his fists. "My brothers stood with me with their heads held high as they faced down the worst that Valoran had to offer." He glared at the ground, frowning. He continued on with hesitation. "Unfortunately, there came a time when Valoran fought back more than me or any of my men had expected. It came in the form of a Dragon named Kampf." The king's eyes narrowed and Jarvan saw this. "You know this name?" The king looked hesitant, glancing at Shyvana before he frowned, leaning heavily on one arm of his throne.
"What little we have in the way of records that date back beyond the Rune Wars tells of a number of Celestial Dragons." Jarvan III frowned, looking down at his son with something new glimmering in his eyes. "There was one who led dragon kind against the ancient kingdom of Shurima and laid siege to the city for seventy days and seventy nights. Legends says that the dragon was named Kampf."
"I've never heard of such a tale." Jarvan said, frowning.
"I have." Shyvana said quietly.
"And who, pray tell, is this?" The king looked down over her with a frown, his eyes taking on a stormy cast.
Jarvan turned to his female companion and frowned. "Shy-..."
"Silence." The king growled, looking down at his son once more before he turned back to Shyvana. "She can speak for herself." Jarvan glared at his father, but kept his mouth shut, glancing nervously at Shyvana.
"My name is Shyvana, your grace." She bowed at the waist, watching his eyes as they continued to shift back and forth between ice and a storm cloud.
"Shyvana..." Jarvan said hesitantly, watching her uneasily. She met his gaze evenly and smiled, and Jarvan exhaled, nodding. I trust you.
"I was raised by dragons, rather, one dragon." She said firmly, watching as the entirety of the court seemed to convulse. Soldiers and staff of the court seemed to falter in disbelief, many of them whispering, murmurs passing up and down the ranks of soldiers who had stood quietly by up until then. Garen shifted from foot to foot, masking his disbelief with a hand as he reconsidered the young woman. Lady Catherine's eyes grew wide as she looked down at the ruby-haired young woman with violent, violet eyes. King Jarvan III's eyes narrowed as they darkened, his mouth turning into a frown behind his black beard. "He went by the name of Faust, and your records probably tell of him as well." Jarvan III betrayed no surprise, but he nodded. "Fa-...Faust was a Celestial Dragon as well, and he was born thousands of years ago. He was a scholar, and unlike many dragons today who have reverted to savage beasts who fear and despise humanity, Faust chose to simply observe and watch, content with his exile. He told me what history he knew of the world and specifically the dragon, Kampf, who came to hunt and torment Faust my entire life. He is the same Kampf you speak of."
"I see." Jarvan III mused, his eyes looking into the heart of the woman who stood before him, reconsidering her. Shyvana looked unnerved by his ice blue eyes, but they were no longer on the verge of turning dark and stormy with his wrath. "I suppose that means your fate was tied in with that of my son."
"It is." Shyvana said firmly. She watched the king's eyebrow rise up underneath his crown. "Kampf slew Faust and left me for dead, content to watch me die slowly. Jarvan rescued me and fed me, helping me to complete my desire for revenge against that monster, Kampf."
"It is the truth, father." Jarvan IV said, stepping forward. "Without her, I would have undoubtedly shared the same fate as many of my men. She is a powerful warrior."
"And you wish for her a position within the Demacian military." Jarvan III mused, watching Jarvan's protests stall in his mind. A frown played over his son's face. "I'm not wrong, am I?"
"No." Jarvan said begrudgingly. The king pulled himself to his feet and stepped down towards where Jarvan and Shyvana stood apprehensively.
"What reason do I have to give her a position in my guard?" The king said, looking from his son to the woman he now circled at distance like a predator. He looked her up and down, a frown still on his face. "She hardly looks the part of a warrior, despite the fanciful tale she tells." A cold smile played over his lips. "I can't believe such tales at this. A human raised by Dragons? That's utter rubbish."
"But..." Shyvana stammered turning to look at the king. She had to clench her fists to control her temper. She had expected a man similar to her Jarvan: proud, forthright and a man of action. His father was nothing of the sort. Jarvan III was cold, calculating and his words stung like his icy gaze. Shyvana felt her frustration beginning to mount.
"What proof do you have that you slew this mythical dragon though?" The king said, spreading his arms in a mock shrug. "Surely you have some sort of proof of who this dragon was, that he was the mythical beast, Kampf, that legend speaks of." He met his son's disbelieving glare and then turned back to meet Shyvana's molten glare. "I'm sorry but I need hard evidence before I'll believe in fairy tales. You, young lady look more the part of a damsel in distress, not a warrior of Demacia." Shyvana clenched her fists and stared at the ground, her cheeks flushed.
He's making me look like a fool. Shyvana gritted her teeth as she searched for a comeback, something she could say or do to convince the king that she was telling the truth. I am strong! Far stronger than any of these men... She simmered angrily as she looked over the guards. A gap had developed between her and them already. Where many looked at her with interest and unease before, the barrier had broken down to that of pity, as if she were simply another trophy that the Prince had brought home. The king looked back at her with a mix of pity and mirth. Shyvana resisted the urge to snarl, again, turning to stare at the ground, her red lock cascading around her face. This is so stupid! If only I could smack that smug look from his face!
"I can vouch for them, sir." Forsythe said as he stepped forward, breaking the tension that had begun to mount. Shyvana blinked a few times, surprised by Forsythe speaking out of turn. The king stopped his pacing long enough to hide his surprise and to look over the towheaded soldier who had stood silently by til now. The king let a smile flit across his lips.
"Ah yes, the sole survivor of my son's guard battalion." The king spoke softly, glaring at Shyvana once again before he stepped up to the young soldier, turning his silent wrath on the Corporal.
"Corporal Ellington Forsythe, 8th King's Guard Battalion, Exemplar Company." Forsythe saluted proudly, snapping to attention.
"Yes, I saw your dossier." The king mused. "You were a street urchin who served time in a penal battalion before you were accepted into my son's company, correct?"
"Yes, sir." Forsythe said, his lips forming a tight line, showing his discomfort at having his service record recalled from memory.
"And I assume that rather gruesome scar is from your fighting with Kampf as well?" The king pointed to the two tail ends of Forsythe scar, the majority of the damage now hidden by the black eyepatch he had purchased during their time at the Laughing Yordle. Forsythe's face hardened for a second but he took the patch off, doffing it in a pouch of his belt. The scar ran from high in Forsythe hairline, down, across his eyes and ended curving back away from the corner of his mouth. Where his left eye had been, a dark depression had formed.
"Sir." Forsythe barked, unphased. "Yes, sir. The monster grazed me when he assaulted our squad and slew all but one of the other men. If it hadn't been for Prince Jarvan and Miss Shyvana's valiant efforts in driving the dragon off, I would be dead."
"And this is the truth?" The king frowned, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked up at the shoulder who stood rigidly at attention.
"Of course sir." Forsythe said, a frown appearing on his face. "I have no reason to lie..."
"You served time in a penal battalion." Jarvan III said dismissively as he stepped away, back towards Shyvana. "I can't help but think you would say anything to help your own position." Shyvana felt her temper begin to flare, the young dragoness struggling to keep flames from bursting to life. She felt blood trickle down her fists as draconian claws dug into her palms.
"Forsythe has served as loyally as any true son or daughter of Demacia." Jarvan snarled. "He deserves your respect at the very least!" Jarvan stepped towards his father as guardsmen rushed forth. The king raised a hand and the guardsmen froze in place.
"Know your place." The king snapped, glaring at his son angrily. His blue eyes went from dark, menacing thunderstorm blue to cool, hardened ice. He sighed, frowning, looking to both Forsythe and Shyvana and then back to his son. "I knew this was going to be an issue."
"If you did then why would you start trouble?" Jarvan growled in disgust. "I owe Shyvana my life and I promised her a position with the guard and the very least Forsythe deserves is a damned commission." Jarvan III frowned as he met his son's gaze, electricity sparkling in the air.
"She shall have to prove herself then." The king said, finally turning away. "If she shows herself worthy than I shall see to it she receives a position befitting her strength. However, I doubt that it will be anything new. I've seen the likes of her type many times before."
I shall show you power like you've never seen. Shyvana took a deep breath, and felt the air around her began to heat. Then we'll see if you wish to call it a fanciful tale.
"How do you plan to-..." Jarvan began to say, but he felt heat on the side of his face that drew his gaze to where Shyvana stood. Jarvan's face began to pale as he looked at Shyvana. Heat poured off of her body in visible sheets as she clenched her fists and bore her teeth. Her hair stood vertical as it was lifted by the wind, power swirling around her as sparks danced along the ground in a circle around her feet. "Wait, Shy-... Stop!"
"You have faced nothing like me!" Shyvana snarled as she glared at the king with golden fury dancing in her eyes. She raised a fist back as flame cloaked her body, swirling around her as she raced towards the king, her body low to the ground. Flames exploded around the dragoness as she launched herself at the king, knocking the two guards who had rushed forth aside like they were nothing. A raging inferno swirled around Shyvana and she charged, her fist cloaked in flame.
Golden light erupted as a cloud of smoke exploded, filling the room.
For a brief moment Shyvana hung in the air, propelled by her flames as she smashed against something solid and golden, energy bounced off of the wavering golden surface. Shyvana bounced and hit the ground, snarling as she picked herself up off the ground, stunned. She tried to shake it off, pushing herself up and starting to summon her flames. She froze as the sound of steel crossed just beneath her chin. She dared not move an inch, looking down at the long bladed lances that two guardsmen held just inches from her neck. She grinned as she watched the smoke clear, a familiar golden bubble glowing brilliantly.
The elder Jarvan wore a similar smile upon his face from within the golden bubble. The bubble evaporated with a snap. Men rushed towards Shyvana, holding her at lance point as fire still simmered around her, though the inferno was gone.
"Execute this bitch!" Colonel Walkurze shrieked, waving his arm at the men who now detained Shyvana.
"No!" Jarvan snarled, starting to rush towards her, but men rushed to greet him as well, their weapons brandished.
Forsythe slid up next to colonel, producing a weapon from the sleeve of his tunic. He pressed the sharpened edge of a rock gently to the colonel's neck and grabbed his arm. "I lied. I had a second rock." Forsythe said with a wicked smile. He twisted the colonel's arm about as the man tried to reach for his sword. "Don't you fucking dare." Forsythe snarled. He grabbed the sword upon the man's hip and slid it out of its sheath. "Jarvan!"
Forsythe tossed the blade for the prince to catch. Jarvan snatched it out of the air and spun away from his guards, taking two long steps towards the guardsman who stood over top of Shyvana. He smashed his fist into the T-shaped visor of one man's helmet, then spun and snap kicked the second in the side, sending him crashing to the ground. He hauled Shyvana to her feet with a single heave and then held the blade in front of him, pressing his back against Shyvana. They glanced around, watching as hundreds of heavily armored soldiers poured into the room. Jarvan let the tip of his sword clattered as he bounced it along the many weapons brandished at him.
Jarvan began to turn but stopped when he locked eyes with his childhood friend. Garen glared at him with a mix of disappointment and confusion, but he kept his sword sheathed, his arms crossed over his chest for now. Garen frowned, content simply to watch the confusion rather than getting caught up in it all. He seemed to know that if he was needed, he'd be asked. Jarvan glanced away, looking back towards the men who surrounded him. He stole a glance over his shoulder, glad to see Shyvana standing tall.
"That was ballsy and stupid." Jarvan growled under his breath.
"I thought I'd try and do what you'd do in my position." Shyvana said. Jarvan could hear the smirk she wore. "Felt good to try and take my anger out on him, and that helped me clear my head. Though it didn't really work, I am glad your father possesses the same lightshield that you do." Jarvan stumbled for a second, nearly tripping over his own foot.
"You mean you didn't know?" Jarvan scoffed, looking over his shoulder. Shyvana gave him a toothy grin and shrugged.
"I was pretty sure." She laughed as Jarvan sighed and shook his head.
"So what now?" Jarvan asked, looking at the men who had surrounded them. They bore the crimson sash and plume of the Demacian Elite Royal Guard, not ones to be trifled with. "You planning on fighting out of here?"
"No... I, uh, actually I hadn't really planned this far ahead." Shyvana said sheepishly. "I kinda let my temper get the best of me."
"I'll say." Jarvan said, chuckling. "I'll admit I was impressed, just next time, gimme some warning when you've got another bright idea."
"Hey, I thought the best way to prove my strength would be to take him down a peg." Shyvana said blushing. "I may or may not have gotten a bit ahead of myself with my nervousness of meeting your parents and my utter frustration with your father."
"Yeah, he can be kind of an ass." Jarvan said quietly, struggling not to smirk. "He's always been a bit overbearing. Well, at least everyone's alright. How about you, Forsythe, you doing okay?"
"I'm not enjoying all these weapons pointed at me to be perfectly honest." Forsythe snarled, bending Colonel Walkurze's arm and getting an appropriate reaction. The colonel yelped in pain as Forsythe twisted his arm about, keeping the well sharpened rock still pressed to his neck. Blood had started to bead along the sharpened edge.
"I hope you know you're not getting away with this, bastard!" Walkurze snapped. "I'll see it that you and that witch burn!"
"Do me a favor and shut the fuck up." Forsythe growled. "Though if you like the idea, I'm sure my friend Miss Shyvana would love to give you a taste of flame." Walkurze stole a glance at Shyvana who smiled prettily, holding out a hand. A ball of flames snapped to life in her hand, dancing for a bit. Walkurze's face paled noticeably. "Thought so." Forsythe raised his knee up and then booted the colonel in the back of the right leg, sending the man crashing to his knees. Forysthe kept him from smashing face on the ground by holding his arm with one hand, using the other to keep the rock against his throat. "What's the plan boss?"
"Well..."
"Stand down!" The king bellowed, frowning. "All forces stand down." He turned his gaze to his son and though there was anger in his icy glare, there was a certain amount of approval as if he were complimenting his son on the strength of his companions. "Have your friends stand down as well."
"But sir!" The officer who led the reinforcements stammered, pointing at the seemingly renegade soldiers who stood isolated in the center of the mass of men. "They have one of our men hostage! Surely you don't expect me to stand by..."
"I do, and you will or you'll lose your commission and land yourself in the deepest dungeon I can find, Major." The king said, his voice even, despite the anger that was clear on his face. The officer looked surprised but slowly he nodded, stepping back and ordering his men to do the same. The soldiers lowered their weapons and took several steps back, grumbles and murmurs passing through the men, though the tension in the air was palpable. The king turned to Forsythe and glowered at the man but sighed after several moments.
"I appreciate the healthy vote of confidence in the young woman and my idiot son." Jarvan III growled. "But there is no need to do something as foolish as this. He may be a bit of a pain, but the colonel is only looking out for the safety of myself and my wife. Overzealous as he is, he's simply doing his job."
"I don't plan of letting this ass go." Forsythe growled as menacingly as possible. "Not before you call off the snipers." The king's eyes narrowed visibly as if he hadn't expected that demand and then he nodded, a thin smile appearing behind his beard.
"Perceptive, I see. Very well." He raised a hand and made a fist. There was a clicking of the hammer getting seated from high above. "They won't fire. Now please, let the good colonel go, he simply got ahead of himself, I had no intention of letting her get killed."
Forsythe met his gaze for a few moments, staring into the clear, ice blue eyes of the king for several moment before he let the rock drop away from the colonel's neck and he took a step back, kicking the colonel in the back. The officer stumbled forward onto his chest. He snarled as he struggled to his feet, trying his best to maintain what dignity he had left.
"READY YOUR WEAPONS!" He bellowed, waving his arm at the men who now stood at arms.
"Silence, Colonel Walkurze or I'll bounce those ranks tabs off your collar so fast you won't know what hit you." The king snarled, fitting the officer with a stormy glare. Walkurze reached up to check his collar to ensure his colonel's rank tabs were still there, blushing when he found them in place. He glared back at the king, his embarrassment turning into red faced fury, but he forced himself to turn away in disgust.
"Now, young woman, Shyvana." The king turned to look at her, watching as she met his gaze tentatively. "While I think your manners could use some work, I like your initiative and attitude." A tight lipped smile rested upon his face. "If you truly desire to become a warrior of Demacia, to protect her and all of her constituents, I shall give you the chance to prove your strength in a fair match. Do you accept this challenge?"
Shyvana exchanged a glance with Jarvan who frowned but nodded. Jarvan lowered his weapon and then turned towards where Walkurze was busy trying to salve his dignity still. "Catch." He gently tossed the sword, watching the color drain from the colonel's face with a grin. The man managed to catch the sword by the pommel, scowling as he sheathed it. Two soldiers stepped up to Jarvan and grabbed his arms, bending them around the staff of their lances, holding his arms crossed behind him.
"Jarvan..." Shyvana said nervously. Men seemed hesitant to approach her as they pulled Jarvan away from her. Several men tried to approach her but with a single glance she sent them scurrying backwards, their weapons still held towards her.
"I don't think you've got much in the way of a choice in this one." Jarvan wore a frown as he was manhandled by the soldiers. Shyvana looked unhappy as well but she turned to the king and nodded, bowing. She dipped at the waist and then stood full up.
"I accept your offer, your highness." She said quietly, matching the king's intensity.
"Good." The king mused with a smile.