"So what purpose did it serve to start a shouting match with our son, dear?" Lady Catherine frowned as she stared out the window towards one of the opposite towers where her son's quarters were located. She slowly ran her comb through her long brown hair as she rested on the cushions, nestled up to the large window, snow just beginning to fall outside.
"He needs to learn his place." The king growled as he leaned over the basin in the bathroom. "He is of royal blood and must learn to act as such. If he's unable to accept such simple criticisms and responsibilities, then he has no right to his lineage."
"You're one to speak of accepting criticism and responsibility." Catherine muttered under her breath as she leaned up against the window, sighing heavily.
"Hmm?" The king grunted, sticking his head out of the bathroom with a frown on his face, mumbling something as he brushed his teeth. The queen sighed as the king let out a string of unintelligible sounds.
"How many times must I tell you; I can't understand you when you try to talk like that?" The queen shook her head, but wore an affectionate smile. She looked back out the window while she waited, the smile becoming conflicted as she watched the light in the opposite tower go out.
"You were saying?" The king ran a towel over his face, wiping the water from his beard where he had washed the residue from the toothpaste away.
"Why must you torment our son so?" Catherine said, a frown crossing her face. "You may be his commander, but you're also his father, and ever since he has returned, I don't think you've acted even remotely as such."
"Catherine..." Jarvan III began to say as he stepped out of the bathroom, tossing the towel onto a side table. He wore a frown and his eyes lacked any intensity at all as he glanced at the floor. They were neither sharp nor dangerous; they looked empty.
"If you expect sympathy from me about this situation, you're not going to find solace in my arms." She said firmly, glancing back to the window and crossing her arms over her chest. "You're systematically destroying your relationship with your only son, and you're only going to push him to the breaking point if this continues much longer."
"You know I'm only doing this to prepare him for what's to come..." Jarvan III said evenly, the hesitation evident in his voice.
"What else are you planning on doing?" Catherine said, her voice starting to get louder and slightly more shrill. "Toss him into the sea to see if he sinks or floats? I can't imagine there's much else you can put him through short of blatantly torturing him!"
Jarvan III posted his fists upon his hips. "Catherine, I shall raise my son as I-..."
"As what? As you see fit?" Catherine hissed angrily. "I read the reports, Trey. The man Jarvan viewed as his father, one of the two people who raised him, died to save his life and to protect the women he loved. And you're going to stand here and tell me our son is the one at fault?"
"I raised my son to be the finest soldier Demacia has ever seen!" the king snarled. "He IS the exemplar of Demacia!"
"You did nothing of the sort!" Catherine snarled back, the venom in her voice enough to quell the king's anger and force him to take a step back. "Jarvan Lightshield IV was raised by two people: Noel Halsington and Valin Isaacs. They molded him into what he is today, and I don't know if it's fear, jealously, or anger you hold in your heart for your son right now, but so help me, dear, I will not stand for this humiliation and torture you are putting him through." Her voice was as sharp as a blade and from the look that the king wore, it cut in a similar manner.
"Catherine..." He began to say, stepping towards her with and arm outstretched.
"Don't come near me." She hissed back at him as tears began to drip down her face. "I was hardly a parent to that poor boy either, so you can call me a hypocrite all you want, but I won't stand idly by and watch as you destroy his life a second time. I made the mistake of taking my son for granted once before, and for two years I worried myself sick, thinking he held it against me. I drove myself to the point of exhaustion and pain because of my worries. If he had died during that time... I don't know if I would have ever forgiven myself."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Catherine..." Jarvan began to say softly.
She spun and faced him, anger blazing in her soft blue eyes, tears pouring down her face. "I didn't do anything at all!" She said, her voice cracking. "And that's exactly why I hate myself right now. Our son returned alive, but he is different, he's harder and more reserved. So much has changed and he won't hardly look at me."
"His temper certainly hasn't changed at all..." The king said quietly.
"And neither has yours, so clearly shown by the scene you decided was necessary to put on display in front of several hundred onlookers." Catherine snipped. "I nearly lost my son once, and I refuse to let you drive him away now that he's returned. I want to make up for all the neglect I showed before and now you're denying him the one thing he truly cares about right now."
"Don't tell me you're siding with him about that silly little dragon girl." The king rolled his eyes and turned away shaking his head.
"And that is exactly why you're alienating your son!" Catherine said, sympathy and pain cutting through her voice. "You refuse to even consider her. You refuse to even THINK about your son's feelings. You don't know anything about her, so how can you be so dead set against her!?"
"You just said it yourself!" The king growled, with frustration mounting in his voice. "I know nothing about her!"
"SO SIT DOWN AND HAVE TEA WITH HER." Catherine shouted, her face red with anger. Her shoulders rapidly rose and fell as she huffed and puffed, her face contorted with anger. "Something. Anything. I refuse to stand idly by while you destroy our family because for once, your son isn't following your orders and directions to the letter."
"But..." The king started to stammered, frowning.
"No, shut your damn mouth." Catherine snapped. "You and I had an arranged marriage, yes, it happens sometimes. We grew up together and we knew each other much longer than... than... who is he engaged to exactly?"
"Elvarran Brightstorm." The king said, setting his jaw.
"I don't even know who that is." The queen said, shaking her head. "Look, I want you to rescind your petty quarantine between Shyvana and Jarvan."
"So she's 'Shyvana' now, is she?" The king growled, looking as if he had been betrayed.
"Yes, she has a name." The queen said tightly, a frown on her face. "If you have any pittance of respect for your son, you'll respect at least his choice of partner. That starts with at least treating her with basic human rights, despite her not being entirely human herself. She's had a hard life, Trey, she deserves a home and Jarvan is trying to give her one." She took a deep breath, a weary look crossing her face. "Please, Trey. I lost Jarvan once and I don't want to lose him again. If you love your son as much as I think you do, please... just let him be happy for once."
"I wish it were that simple." The king said, shaking his head as she slumped down on the bed.
"What left do you have to worry about?" Lady Catherine said with a frown. "You've run endless security checks, you're having her beat to a pulp by her superiors over and over, and you're subjecting her to embarrassment, harassment and ridicule at the hand of your troops, and she's done nothing to warrant any of this suspicion. Has even a single problem, a mote of alarm, appeared on her horizon?"
"No, and that's exactly what worries me!" The king said, letting a bit of anger slip into his voice. "What changed? Why are you suddenly such an advocate of the young dragon-girl?"
"I had the chance to meet her." The queen said defiantly. Surprise crossed the king's face, something the queen had not seen in years. "She's just a sweet, nervous, worried young woman with a good head on her shoulders and passionate heart in her chest. I hardly see an issue with her."
"She's only half human!" The king exclaimed.
"That's still half more than you right now." The queen snapped back, completely silencing the king's protests. His jaw hung open before too long and he finally snapped his jaw shut.
"Catherine..." The king started to say something but a single glare from the queen silenced his qualms.
"You've listened to me in the past about matters of state and international politics." The queen harkened back to the days when she had actively served as his political adviser. It hadn't been long since they had actively served on the council together, but recently the queen had stepped down due in part to ailing health and stress from family issues and the upcoming prospects of war. Her health had suffered from stress and the pain of loss, "Why can't you listen to me regarding our only son?"
The king's shoulders slumped and he shook his head as he looked at the stone floor beneath his bare feet. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "Fine. I'll rescind the quarantine. I still have plenty of reservations but for now... whatever." The king lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, a dark frown on his face.
"Now, now... that wasn't that hard, was it?" Catherine said, her expression lightening as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him.
"I just hope I don't regret it." The king growled, shaking his head.
"I don't think you will." The queen said, wrapping her arms around her husband. "She's a brave and smart young woman. I think she'll be fine."
"It's not her I'm worried about right now." The king closed his eyes as exhaustion crept over him.
"Worried about Jarvan are you?" The queen said, sighing. She wore a smile as she settled down on the bed next to her husband. She poked him, waiting for an answer, but she only got a snort and a rumble of his snoring. She chuckled softly as she waved her hand, extinguishing the hextech lanterns.
You may be a pompous old fool, but at least you're not completely heartless. She lay back, imagining the cute young woman she had met that evening reuniting with her son. She smiled to herself as she greeted sleep like an old friend, the excitement of the day before finally catching up with her.
Jarvan sat at his desk and watched as the morning snow drifted past his window. The large, snow laden clouds hung in the air high above and the air was frigid, the window frosted along the corners where snow had settled on the outside of the window sill. He spun in his chair to face his desk as he waited, watching the clock upon the wall. Soon, it would strike noon and then lunch would arrive, and then after that, more endless waiting. Jarvan's temper had long subsided and now he was only annoyed about his situation, waiting for whatever his father had set up for him when he was released from this mind numbing sentence.
"Day five of this endless boredom." Jarvan sighed and leaned on his desk. He glanced around the room at all of the tomes that were stacked up against every wall of the room from the research and work he and his subordinates had done for the meeting. He had read most all of them through, or at least leafed through the pages, browsing the records for anything that could have possibly been important. He had compiled all of the occasions and incidents where something seemed out of the ordinary, though many of the dates and unit names he had come across were correct, at least on paper, there were a few here and there that referenced units or soldiers that didn't exist in any of the other records. Jarvan had pulled the odd ones out and set them aside, doing his best to try and cross reference existing units here and there to find anything he could have missed.
Jarvan pushed himself to his feet and stepped away from his desk, looking to the bookshelf he had repurposed to serve as a board to plot his findings upon. He parted the tapestry that hung over top of the bookshelf, hiding it from common view, revealing the web of deceit he had been slowly trying to decipher. A winding trail of scraps of paper, notes on each, had been pinned along the wall with thumbtacks, each holding firm against the wood of the shelves or the spine of the many ancient books that littered his shelves. Snaking along the papers, string marked the strange occurrences and the events he considered the most important.
Jarvan started at the top, setting his jaw and frowning darkly as he read the notes scribbled on the square of parchment. The first note read 'Birth of Swain. -50 CLE?' Jarvan frowned. There was no recorded date of Swain in any of the Demacian archives, but he had tracked back the furthest report of the phantom units he could find around thirty years before the establishment of the Institute of War. He had extrapolated about twenty years, because swain could have been anywhere in the age range of fifty to seventy and he was erring on the side of Swain getting the benefit of the doubt. The first recorded event he had found with a mystery unit was during the last great border war between Demacia and Noxus, thirty years or so before the establishment of the Institute.
The mystery unit had been a company that didn't seem to exist and had smashed through the flanks of the Demacian Defensive line, posted along the border between Noxus and Demacia. Records pointed out several different fallacies as far as information about the company was concerned, though the only things available were what had been gathered by scouts before the unit retreated and disappeared again. While the Demacians had scrambled to repair their defensive lines, little had been done to monitor or track the company and it had disappeared. The only real, hard bit of information they had been able to gather was that the unit was not a special forces unit as initial reports had suspected. The standard Noxian uniforms had been observed being worn by the company that had appeared and disappeared again, and only standard arms and armor had been employed. The smacked of Swain, who was infamous for his intuitive tactical sense for finding the weakest point in enemy lines and breaking straight through, but the strangest thing that had stood out to Jarvan was the fact that the unit had retreated and disappeared as quickly as it had first appeared. They had struck hard and fast, inflicting a multitude of casualties and driving a spike deep into the heart of the Demacian formations. Then they had simply vanished. Jarvan had looked for any other occurrences with a unit that displayed even remotely similar tactics or actions, but there had been nothing for him to find.
Jarvan glowered as he moved towards the second occurrence on his trail, tracing his finger along the string.
"Second occurrence: Marshes of Kaladoun." Jarvan frowned as he looked at the map he had posted on the wall next to his trail of information. The marshes were located north east of Demacia, serving as one of the largest tributaries of the Serpentine river which ran north to the small port town of Kaladoun and deposited into the Conqueror's Sea. The massive, slow moving was fed with hundreds of small tributaries, many of which started from the lowlands east of Demacia, such as the Bubbling Bog and the Howling Marsh. Both the marsh and the bog were sites of ancient battles, the peat thick with nutrients from decomposed bodies. Jarvan turned back to his notes about the Marshes of Kaladoun, a frown returning to his face.
Minus twenty-seven CLE: disappearance of Personis and Fulcore platoons of the Second Battalion's Archron Company. The company had been dispatched into the Marshes on one of the many regular sweeps of the area to ensure no Noxian units were looking to penetrate the Demacian lines for a straight shot at the capital. The bogs were misty and nigh-impassible, but that hadn't stopped smugglers or refugees from trying to cross them for entrance to or fro Demacia before, and Demacian Command wasn't willing to risk it. Jarvan himself had the displeasure of taking a unit into the Marshes early in his career, to try and rescue a family who had gotten trapped in the bog. The scene had been grizzly when they had finally arrived, the bog beasts having devoured the family, only leaving blood and mud splattered possessions flung around a smashed raft. Jarvan shivered, trying desperately to banish the memory. The bog beasts had only left scraps of cloth. A dangerous cross between a bear and a crocodile, the bog beasts were massive territorial predators who protected the marshes. They were the stuff of legends and nightmares, and their simple name 'bog beasts' had stuck.
He turned back to his notes after running a hand over his face. Kaladoun was not something he maintained fond memories about. The two platoons had been doing a routine sweep of the marshes when it had supposedly run into a congregation of bog beasts and had been wiped out. The curious parts were notes from the officers who had overseen the attempted recovery of Fulcore and Personis platoons. The Captain, an officer Bithowzer', charged with investigating the disappearances had reported the blood splatter and remnants of the boats the platoons had been using had been surprisingly uniform in their destruction, as if they had been destroyed in exactly the same manner, which indicated that it was possible the bog beasts had either been lucky or the boats had been taken out by a single creature one by one. The officer had dismissed it, and so had Jarvan at first, but there was one thing that had stood out to him about the officers report. The Captain had made a specific note about a flock of ravens. Most creatures avoided the bog completely, even birds, but the ravens hadn't fled.
Jarvan suspected the birds had either belonged or were under some sort of spell of Swain's, but there was no proof or any follow up, only the messily scrawled note that had been jotted down in the margins of the captains report. Jarvan had put two and two together and he had realized that it was likely humans that had killed the men, rather than bog beasts. Jarvan traced his finger along a piece of string that diverged from the main trail from the Kaladoun Note, leading to another scrap of paper. The note on the scrap read 'Death of Captain Bithowzer, mental insanity.' When Jarvan had looked into the background of the Captain Bithowzer, he had found reports from his sudden admittance into the Demacian General Hospital, under sudden pleas of insanity and beasts tormenting his dreams. He had been called 'extremely down to Runeterra' and 'exceptionally competent' by previous officers, so the sudden mental breakdown had seemed out of place to Jarvan. He had tried to find out more about the officer, but his trail struck a dead end as he had searched. Bithowzer had committed suicide, overdosing while in the hospital. There was no indication of what sort of medication that he had used, but the report from the hospital was surprisingly gruesome as well, stating the officer had smashed both hands open and broken multiple bones in his hands to break open a medicine cabinet from which the drugs had been taken just outside his room. The man had managed to kill a night nurse by ripping her throat out after crying out in pain. The entire scene was disturbing, and the report still sent shivers down Jarvan's spine.
Jarvan ran his fingers down the rest of the string trail to where it exploded into numerous other reports at the very bottom, all dead ends. The entire thing was a series of strange occurrences, disappearances, mysterious Noxian Military units that didn't seem to exist and the progressive death of witnesses here and there. Jarvan shook his head, examining the different pieces of the puzzle that seemed to lead to nowhere. He glowered, looking down to the most recent occurrences, a cluster of about ten that seemed out of place. He ran his hand over one in particular, hesitating as he glared at the furthest down, just above waist height.
DDS Excursion. Lost with all hand in the Conqueror's Sea, off the Freljordian Coast. Noxian-Zaunite necromancy. Jarvan frowned. The trail ended there, but there were a number of different other notes that lead off from the scrap of paper. All sorts of odd things that had made the news and seemed to be related, though Jarvan could hardly tie any of the definitively to the destruction of the Excursion. Short of some sort of cargo manifest or something, the trail seemed to be utterly cold, frozen on the shores of the Freljord.
Jarvan crossed his arms as he looked over the bits of string that ran outwards from the Excursion. The next scrap of paper he settled on was something he had recovered from the reports from Kalamanda rather than actual Demacian records from the Archives. Security Forces of the Institute of War had been attacked during the night a handful of months before Jarvan had passed through the region. A soldier had died in the attack defending the garrison south of Kalamanda, just above the entrance to Mogron Pass. What little information Demacia had managed to get from the Institute had hardly served to help Jarvan's investigation, only a few notes on the attackers, mostly that they were deformed humanoids that were smaller than normal humans and while their numbers had been small, they had passed through, taking some casualties. While Jarvan didn't think it was something Swain had been responsible for, he hadn't ruled out the fact that it had been engineered to draw attention from somewhere else. Jarvan pondered the occurrence for a few moments but glowered, shaking his head as he moved to the next. Without any information, the report was another dead end.
The next note Jarvan had made was again tied to Kalamanda. A bar brawl in the Hasty Hammer Tavern that had erupted in the late evening of a Saturday had drawn his attention because there didn't seem to be any claims of who started the incident. Demacian and Noxian forces were notorious for constantly blaming each other for starting conflicts, but here, it just seemed as if the conflict had started from nothing. He frowned. It had taken the entire Kalamanda Constabulary, several local miners and two League Champions, Garen and Katarina, to break up the fight. While on the surface, it hadn't looked out of the ordinary, Jarvan had dug a bit deeper and tried to find out if any other crimes had occurred that evening. As he had looked around, the startling realization he had made was the both Demacian and Kalamandan attention had solely been concentrated on the tavern brawl. Hours upon hours of crime could have occurred, and though no investigations had followed, Jarvan had a sinking suspicion that something that happened in the time frame. What it could have been Jarvan didn't know, but as he let his finger hover on the pin that held the paper to his spider plot of theories, he had to wonder if this was his best bet to follow.
Jarvan tried to snarl in anger as he spun away, his frustrations manifesting aloud as he leaned heavily on the desk and shook his head. Jarvan raised a fist and stuck the surface of his desk, bouncing the contents with a rattle. "If only I could get out of this goddamned room!"
Jarvan's mind had been racing over the last few days, be it rehashing his growing resentment towards his father, his desire to see Shyvana, his worries over Forsythe, or the incredible itch to uncover what was going on in Noxus. The map he had created had helped keep his mind busy but there were so many loose ends he was now only growing frustrated. Jarvan hesitated as he glared down at two scraps of paper he had yet to post. He pushed himself up off the desk and palmed both pieces of paper, the dark frown he wore deepening. He turned back to his map and held both pieces of paper up. On the first piece of paper, the notes read 'Disappearance of Marcus Du Couteau leads to promotion of Swain.' Jarvan had a sinking feeling that this was one of the most important occurrences to date, but he still couldn't directly tie the event into his trail of mysteries. It didn't help that the date of the actual disappearance he had been given by Katarina didn't match the reports given from the news by Noxian public records or what Demacian intelligence had managed to gather. Jarvan growled as he looked over some of the different notes he found possible to tie it to, be it his capture and attempted execution over two years previous, or something more recent such as the disappearance of the Excursion. Without any information, there was nothing he could do to place it, and for now the scrap of paper didn't have a place on the board, it was simply another mystery upon mysteries. Jarvan wished he could ask Katarina about the issue, but that would be tantamount to treason, and treason led to death, something Jarvan didn't really feel like dealing with at the moment, especially considering his current predicament.
The other was possibly the single largest occurrence that had yet to not find a place on his board. 'Noxian-Ionian rematch.' That was the only thing that Jarvan had scribbled onto the paper, the rest was self-explanatory. Outcries from Ionia had prompted a response from Noxus, and in a move that surprised every constituent of Valoran, General Boram Darkwill had consented to allow Ionia a chance to reclaim their freedom. Again, Jarvan felt his frustrations at a lack of information. The decision had completely blindsided Demacia as a whole, and while there had been huge amounts of public outcry in support of Ionia, Noxus had never been a city-state to wither before pressure from the populace, for not even political pressure had swayed them before. Jarvan wished he could speak to Katarina again, the huge number of questions that were shrouded in the fog of prospective war and strife continued to muddle Jarvan's map.
Though there were two large gaps that remained between the disappearance of Du Couteau and the Ionian Rematch, the scariest part that Jarvan was in the dark about was the long term goal. With the steady gain of power, he could only see the long term goal revolving around the Eternal General, Boran Darkwill, and with it, the helm of Noxus. With such a strong nation under his control, Swain and the mysterious 'L' Katarina suspected him of working with, there would be risk of a major war. As decisive and aggressive as Swain was, there was a certain amount of fear that Demacia would be in trouble. If Jarvan wasn't able to head this off at the pass, to stop the issue from growing worse, the sanctity of his nation, family and life would be at risk.
But why risk something as foolish as war?
A knock at the door interrupted Jarvan's brooding.
Jarvan frowned, glancing at the clock, realizing that it wasn't quite time for his lunch yet and he hadn't been notified that there was a visitor coming. For someone to make a unscheduled visit like this, they would have to be extremely powerful. Jarvan could only put his finger of three of four people total that could do something like this; the king, the queen, General Lorcan or Councilor Crownguard. He sighed as he covered his map with a tapestry that had hung over the wall mounted book cases where he had started plotting his discoveries. Jarvan pocketed the two scraps of paper he had been holding and then stood up a bit straighter, smoothing his uniform out.
"Enter." Though Jarvan uttered the word like a command, he knew that if too much time passed, the guards would enter regardless of what he said. The door opened and Sergeant Delancey stepped inside, saluting him regardless of the fact that he was technically in her custody. "How can I assist you, Sergeant? I don't think it's quiet time for lunch yet." Jarvan stood stiffly watching the sergeant with an even gaze.
"Apologies for the short notice, sir." Delancey said, with a bit of a grin emerging on her face. "But orders from the top. You're to be released from custody at once."
Jarvan blinked several times and stood up straighter, surprise clear on his face. "What?"
"Yes, sir." Delancey said, her smile growing wider. "You've got two visitors in the mean time."
"I, well, show them in then." Jarvan sank backwards a bit, leaning heavily on his desk. What changed?
"Long time, no see, Captain Lightshield." A short woman with long, snow white hair stepped through the doorway, grinning happily as she snapped off a salute. She wore the crisp fatigues of an off duty palace guardsman, a heavy issue winter cloak swept back over one shoulder.
"Alicia?" Jarvan said, blinking, surprise clear on his face again. He shook his head and grinned. "It's Lieutenant Colonel, now, actually." Jarvan said shrugging as she grinned toothily. "What are you doing here?"
"Congratulations on the promotion." Alicia said, glancing towards the doorway. "But I didn't come for a reunion. I brought a friend who was too shy to come alone."
"A friend?" Jarvan said, raising an eyebrow. Who would she bring that wanted to visit me?
"Stop worrying and come in here already!" Alicia said, looking into the outer room. She posted her fists on her hips and frowned angrily, glaring a bit as she stared into the room beyond. Jarvan couldn't hear the response that got uttered, but from the look on Alicia face and the laughter that Alicia let out told him something was up. "Oh don't worry about it! You look adorable like this." Another pause and Alicia turned to Jarvan rolled her eyes and sighed. "She's been nervous about this all day. I've been trying to convince her not to worry but she's still iffy about the clothes I picked out for her."
Jarvan frowned, wondering just who Alicia was talking about. Who...?
"Fine." The voice muttered. "I still feel ridiculous." Jarvan's heart stopped.
Shyvana stepped clear of the door. She was blushing furiously as she stepped into the room, a long dark skirt cascading around her, a heavy fur lined cloak on her shoulders, hiding a simple overcoat that shown the Demacian colors, matching the dark blue scarf that was wrapped around her neck. Her red hair had been pulled back into a tighter braid than Jarvan had ever seen her wearing. Her hair was bright red and clean, and hair clips littered her hair, trying to keep it tamed. Jarvan felt color begin to burn his cheeks as he started at her, his jaw slightly ajar. Shyvana's magenta eyes sparkled brilliantly as she smiled at him.
"Hi, Jarvan." Shyvana said with a small voice.
"What do you think?" Alicia said, a broad grin on her face. "I made her clean up and dressed her up to come and see you as soon as we heard you were going to be released. She was as giddy as a school girl all the way up here... I don't know what suddenly changed." Alicia tapped Shyvana on the back, giving her a push, but Shyvana's face simply burned a brighter shade of red.
"Be quiet, June..." Shyvana hissed nervously. She tried to meet Jarvan's gaze but her face burned an even brighter red, nearly the color of her hair. Jarvan watched as a few stray snowflakes from the top of her head started to steam. Jarvan clicked his jaw shut and felt a smile grow on his face.
"Hey, Shy..." Jarvan said, struggling for words. Tears began to well in Shyvana's eyes as she looked up to meet his eyes, desperately struggling to wipe them away before they formed. "W-what's wrong?" Jarvan took half a step forward as Shyvana screwed her face up and fit Jarvan with an angry look.
"You!" She shouted, taking Jarvan by surprise. He stumbled backwards, hitting his desk and he had to lean heavily on it to not tumble over. The admission had staggered him.
"Me?" Jarvan gasped, blinking rapidly. "What'd I do?"
"You never once came to visit me!" Shyvana snapped, struggling to hold the tears back. "I haven't seen you since we got here! Is that how you treat the woman who loves you?" She took a step forward as she had to wipe her eyes again. She shook her head and took another half step forward, glaring at Jarvan. "It's been horrible! Everyone but June treats me like some more of freak!"
"Hold on..." Jarvan stammered, raising his hands defensively as if they would block the torrent of words Shyvana was throwing at him.
"You're such a..." She stammered, her voice trailing off. She looked to the ground as she tugged on her braid, tucking her chin into her scarf to hide her face, long red bangs hiding her magenta eyes. "Such a..."
"Shyvana?" Jarvan said gently. Shyvana suddenly sprinted forward, leaping at Jarvan and flying through the air at him with arms outstretched. "Hold on—WHOA!" Shyvana wrapped her arms around his neck as he yelped, the two of them colliding. She barreled Jarvan backwards over his desk, sending him crashing to the ground on the opposite side.
"Shyvana..." Jarvan started to say but she pushed herself up to stare down at him. Tears dripped from her magenta eyes, her hair hanging around them like a curtain.
"Shut up!" She said fiercely, her face a mess as she looked as if she were about to completely burst into tears."You... you're such an idiot!" Shyvana pushed her face into Jarvan's neck and hugged him close, breathing in his scent as her shoulder quaked. Shyvana pushed herself up and glared down at Jarvan. He blinked away the pain he felt in his tail frown hitting the ground, and stared up at Shyvana as tears now poured down her face. She tried to wipe them away, but they kept coming, dripping down her face.
"Shy..." Jarvan said softly.
"I missed you so much!" Shyvana wailed as she dropped onto Jarvan and wrapped her arms around his neck again. "Idiot!"
"Hey now, don't be mean..." Jarvan said, grinning as he wrapped his arms around the dragoness, pulling her warm little body against his, letting the warmth flow through him. Shyvana pushed herself up and sniffed, trying to wipe the tears away.
"I should beat the tar out of you for doing this... getting yourself arrested." Shyvana pouted, glancing away, her face a bright red color. Jarvan chuckled as he cupped her cheek in his hand wiping a tear away with his thumb. Shyvana nuzzled his hand as a smile broke through on her face and she giggled a bit as she lowered her face down to Jarvan and kissed him deeply.
"I missed you too." Jarvan said with a crooked grin when Shyvana finally had to come up for air. Shyvana laid her head against Jarvan's chest and closed her eyes, smiling happily as she pulled herself against Jarvan, content to be back in his arms.
Jarvan let his head fall back against the ground, smiling.
Life is already looking up.