Jarvan stepped into the throne room and immediately felt as if he were being watched. He glanced around, noticing that many eyes were following him as he moved deeper into the high ceilinged room. He had heard the din of quieted conversation from the hallway, but as he passed through the main doors of the throne room, silence descended upon the massive hall. Jarvan paused just inside the doorway, the blue and gold carpet leading up towards the raised throne where his father and mother's chairs sat empty. Jarvan glanced over his shoulder, but General Jormander and his escorts had disappeared, just leaving Delancey in his wake. The young blonde looked nervous as her eyes played over the entirety of the the Demacian high command arrayed around them, watching as she and the prince approached the throne.
"Greetings, Prince Jarvan." Colonel Dillich stepped forward, his guards crossing their lances as Jarvan and Delancey approached the central most point of the throne room, where the path diverged towards both sides, as well as continuing straight towards the throne.
"Colonel Dillich." Jarvan said evenly, only the barest of frowns crossing his face. "What's the meaning of this?" He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder to where even the entirety of the noble houses, the members of the legislative council, were sitting, looking towards Jarvan.
"It will be explained shortly, sire." The colonel said, a smile playing across his face. The colonel turned to Delancey, the smile broadening for a moment as he looked over the young woman. "Sergeant Delancey."
"Colonel." She saluted promptly.
"You know the drill: no weapons." The flicker of the smile still played over his face as the young woman rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah." Delancey grumbled, beginning to hand over her array of weaponry to one of the men-at-arms who had accompanied Dillich. She dropped her her sword on top of a pile of silver blades and then dropped her hands to her sides. "That it?" Dillich said, eying the small pile of knives and her sword that she handed off to one of the men.
"You think I should be carrying more then, colonel?" Delancey said, raising an eyebrow. Dillich shrugged and turned back to Jarvan.
"You may proceed, sir." He stepped aside, his men retracting their lances and stepping back. Jarvan nodded his head, moving down the aisle that divided the four quadrants of the throne room, sliding in at the very front of the front right quadrant, dropping into his seat unceremoniously. Delancey slid into a spare seat behind him, obviously nervous to be sitting with the highest of the brass at what was clearly an important social and martial function. Jarvan crossed his arms over his chest and waited as the din slowly rose again.
"I would have thought you were the last ones to arrive." Jormander mused from several chairs over, leaning forward to look at the prince. Jarvan hid his sneer by glancing over his shoulder and then back to Jormander. How did he... never mind.
"Who else could we be waiting for?" Jarvan said, glancing in the general's direction.
Jormander shrugged, a thin smile lingering on his face. "Who knows. It's rare for the king to call both the legislative council and the command staff together." He frowned for a second but then exhaled sharply. "I suppose it's an announcement regarding the explosion this morning. Though it could pertain to the ongoing situation in Kalamanda as well." Jormander stroked his chin thoughtfully for a few moments but chuckled, looking back over at Jarvan. "Speaking of, how is your dragon... friend? I heard she was injured in the accident."
"I was tempted to ask you that." Jarvan said, narrowing his eyes as he glared at the general.
Jormander raised his hands apologetically, trying to ward off the prince's scorn. "I had nothing to do with that, actually." Jormander said, a slight frown crossing his face. He tried to hide the moment of anger that flared in his eyes and nostrils with a smile but Jarvan has seen the momentary lapse of the calm and collected exterior. "Call it genuine concern." The general mused, shrugging. "And if you hear anything, I'd like to know, of course."
"Of course." Jarvan hissed gruffly, sitting back in his seat. "I was headed to check on her when I was summoned."
At the front of the throne room, Colonel Kranoff Dillich approached the king's throne, bowing once and then turning to inspect the room one last time. "Attention!" He bellowed, the entirety of the hall getting to their feet and looking off to the right side of the throne room. "Presenting his highness, King Jarvan Lightshield III of Demacia."
The doors were opened by two guards and the king strode in, wearing a stern expression. Lady Catherine and Xin Zhao trailed in his wake, accompanied by more guards, following him to their seats at the very front of the room. They mounted the steps, lady Catherine moving to the seat directly to the left of the throne, the king moving up to his seat and then waiting for his wife to be seated. He let his ice blue eyes wander over the crowd for a few moments as she seated herself to his right. His icy gaze settled on the prince. Jarvan IV shivered slightly as the king's eyes threatened to cloud over, but after a few moments they simply passed over the prince and onward towards the left side of the throne room and the legislative council. Xin Zhao stood just behind and to the left of the king, his lance in hand, his dark eyes scanning the crowd as well, though where the king looked for fear, Xin looked for threats.
"Thank you all for coming, and I apologize for the abrupt summons." The king said nodding his head. "You may be seated." He waited until the noise of the entire hall had settled before continuing, spreading his hands before him graciously. "I know the news among the city-state and coming from Kalamanda has been bleak over the past few weeks. Thoughts about the entrapment of the twelve Demacian miners trapped in Kalamanda has been weighing heavily on the public's mind recently, and the incident this morning has only compounded the public's fears and their lack of understanding about what has been going on across Valoran." The kings eyes lightened as they settled on Jarvan IV for a few moments. The prince shivered again, glancing away as the king's intense glare threatened to cut through him.
"At approximately eleven-hundred-hours this morning, a large explosion rocked the east road just outside the Eastern Victory Gates. While information is still scant at best, there have been no reports of fatalities, despite the presence of heavy traffic on the road as refugees arrive from Kalamanda and a Demacian Guard Unit that was returning from a training exercise. This is thanks to the quick and proactive decisions made by a Checkpoint inspection detail lead by Galio, the Demacian Sentinel, as well as the commander of the training unit who offered swift assistance in the emergency." A smattering of applause echoed through the hallway. "However, had it not been for the bravery of two young women, there would have been further casualties and possible fatalities as well. Thanks to their courageous actions, we know what caused this calamity, and how it was averted so narrowly." There was another smattering of applause.
"This brings me to my point." The king settled into a parade rest stance, his gaze looking out over crowd before him. "To try and counteract the low morale that has been sweeping the nation, two weeks from now, there is going to be a nationally decreed holiday. There are several reasons for this, but recently, with the heavy strain of Kalamanda resting on every citizen's shoulders, the entire nation has been mired down by the heavy burden of responsibility. In addition to state sponsored festivities and a mandatory vacation period for all military personnel and workers within the city, there will be a Royal Ball. This ball will be in recognition of the young women and the other heroes from the incident this morning, as well as other heroes that have not received the recognition they deserved in the past several months. It will also serve as the formal welcoming home of my son, the prince." Jarvan frowned slightly as he blushed, applause echoing around the throne room. The king waited till the applause died before continuing, a thin smile lingering on his face.
"Following this ball, my son and I will be departing for Kalamanda to observe and deal with the situation at hand." A murmur arose through the crowd, dissent and confusion echoing through some of the whispers. "I wish to settle any and all doubts about the instability of the region by working closely with the Kalamandan Officials to resolve any and all issues. There will be many preparations for this undertaking, and I just wanted to preemptively thank all of you for your work and the hardship that you will face and you have faced in the past and coming months. Until these issues are resolved, my son and I will be doing all that we can to promote the strength of Demacia and the support of all of her interests in the region. Tensions in Kalamanda are continually rising, and until they are quelled, the entirety of Runeterra is at risk of war. The task will not be an easy one: our enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely, but if peace is to break down, men and women of Demacia, it is upon our shoulders to maintain the peace and freedom of free Runeterra against the encroaching Noxian War Machine!" He raised his fist triumphantly as cheers roared through the hall, echoing across the massive, high-vaulted ceilings, the very air reverberating with the roar of the crowd. The king looked out over the crowd with a proud smile beaming on his face as the cheers slowly died. "Thank you." The king bowed his head. "Dismissed."
The crowded hallway burst into conversation as officers and staff began conversing, the initial plans being laid, the hundreds of hours of planning required now beginning to take shape. There was a sinking feeling of dread in Jarvan's stomach as he watched officers send staff running in every direction, even the most slothful and the oldest generals moving at a brisk pace as they readied for the worst. This isn't talk of freedom or support of Kalamanda... This... this is war.
"Well then, it looks like we're going on a trip." Delancey whispered with a frown as she stood up, looking to the prince, fear glimmering in her green eyes. "Are we going to war, sir?"
"I don't know, Del." Jarvan said softly, shaking his head. "I truly don't know right now."
Kranoff Dillich stepped up to the prince, tapping him on the shoulder, interrupting him before he could say anything else to his sergeant. "Sire, the king would like you to stay after. He needs to speak with you alone."
Jarvan frowned slightly, but nodded. "Of course." Jarvan said, bowing his head in thanks, turning towards where General Jormander had risen to his feet. Jarvan struggled to keep the malice from his voice, but he knew his narrowed eyes and stiff shoulders betrayed his discomfort. "Thank you for your concern about Shyvana's safety earlier general, and I hope you'll accept my regret at not being able to escort you back as far as my office."
The general's smile flickered with amusement, but he nodded his head sagely in response. "Worry not." The general chuckled softly, waving his hand. "I have other business to attend to anyways. I do hope you do not hold my earlier concerns against you." He shrugged. "Business, you know." As the crowd started to thin, Jarvan felt the desire to simply haul off and slug the bastard yet again, but another general brushed past him and Jarvan knew he would never hear the end of it if he did. "Oh well, I hope your dragon friend gets better..." The general patted Jarvan on the shoulder, a thin smile playing over his face, though his eyes glimmered cold and maliciously. "It'd be a shame if anything were to happen to her in the hospital."
Jarvan clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as Jormander chuckled and wandered away. As soon as he was out of earshot, tension and anger coursed through Jarvan's body like all of the emotion he had been bottling up and had suddenly exploded. "Damn!" Jarvan hissed, shaking his head in disgust, his fists quivering at his sides, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.
"Someone really needs to smack that that smug cunt." Delancey growled, shaking her head. Her hand shot to her mouth, a surprised look on her face. She turned to Jarvan and frowned sheepishly. "Apologies sir—uh... Are you alright, sir?"
Jarvan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, slowly opening his fists and shivering slightly as he closed his eyes and took another deep breath. "I will be as soon as I get the chance to see Shyvana." Jarvan shook his head. "This day..." He ran his hands over his face. "It just keeps getting worse and worse." His mother moved slightly closer, a hopefully expression on her face as she looked to him. Jarvan sighed heavily, straightening his tunic and standing up straighter. "I'll be back shortly, Del." The young sergeant nodded, standing back as the prince moved off and approached the front of the throne room where his mother stood waiting.
"How have you been, Jarvan?" The queen hugged the prince and then held him at arm's length, looking him up and down. "You look so tired... I haven't seen you since you taken to the hospital. How is your arm? Does it hurt?" She shook her head, hugging him again before she took a step back, taking a deep breath and smiling at her son. "Sorry." She muttered brusquely, regaining her composure and trying to hide the fact that she was a worried mother. "How is Shyvana? I heard she was injured..."
Jarvan nodded his head solemnly. "I don't know, mother. I was on my way to see her when I was summarily told to fuck off and come here." The horrified look on his mother's face made Jarvan realize how hurtful his language had been. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, resting a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Apologies, mother. It has been a very difficult day."
"I didn't realize..." Lady Catherine said, shaking her head, a worried look settling over her face as she looked up at her son, sweeping brown hair from her face. "I do hope she is alright."
"Me too." Jarvan growled, shaking his head and looking to where his father spoke with several of his generals on the steps to his throne. "What's the deal with the Ball? It hardly seems like an appropriate way to raise morale in a a time where war is a not too distant possibility." Jarvan sneered. "It sounds like the height of arrogance to me."
"I'm glad you approve of my methods, son." The king growled sarcastically as he descended from the throne, Xin Zhao following in his wake.
"Father." Jarvan acknowledged his approach as a courtesy, but the tone was far terser than what would be normal between a father and son. "You wished to speak with me?"
"I did." The king nodded, casting Jarvan a disapproving look. "Firstly, how is your shoulder? I noticed you were no longer wearing the sling."
"It's healing nicely." Jarvan said, his hand hovering where the wound had been in his shoulder. "A few more days and I should be fully healed."
"Good." The king said, nodding. "I wished to speak about several upcoming events."
"Yeah, you did kind of blindside me with our trip to Kalamanda and the declaration of war." Jarvan growled, shaking his head.
"Apologies, but I wish to show my concern for our citizens and I wish to evaluate the situation in Kalamanda for myself." The king's eyes ran over the prince as if he were sizing him up. "And it is not war, Jarvan, merely the threat of conflict breaking out."
"Could of fooled me." Jarvan muttered, his father ignoring the snide comment.
"It is also my understanding there is some business you need to attend to in Kalamanda." The king's eyes threatened to cloud over, but he ran a hand over his black beard, producing a frown.
Jarvan hid his surprise and confusion with a matching frown. "I don't recall having any business there..."
"Oh?" Confusion darkened the king's eyes slightly. "Perhaps Jormander was mistaken? When I was discussing my plans with him he said that you had an ongoing investigation you were assisting him with and that your leads were pointing to Kalamanda?"
"I..." Jarvan subdued the desire to curse the Demsec general, instead realizing that anything he opposed would come back to haunt him. My investigations of Swain and L. He internalized a sigh and then looked to the king. "Ah, yes. That. I mentioned it in passing to the general when I went and met him this morning. He seemed to take a particular interest in it."
Something dark flashed in the king's eyes as he read the message in between Jarvan's words. "I see." The king mused quietly, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Do you wish not to go, then?"
Jarvan shrugged with some effort. "I'm running into more and more dead ends the deeper I dig. Books and records served as some basis to start me off, but I've run out of information to sort through. Perhaps the change of scenery will grant some clarity to my theories. I'll go."
"Very good." The king said, nodding with a small smile. "Considering your expertise with the Noxians, it would prove very beneficial to have you along. Councilor Crownguard wanted to extend his thanks for the work you assisted him with. He was very impressed with what you had gathered in such a short time frame."
Jarvan grunted at the compliment but didn't say anything else. The king waited a few moments to try and judge the prince's reaction, but Jarvan's face remained neutral, though his eyes betrayed the fact that the prince was lost in thought. Jarvan III cleared his throat and then continued: "I do hope you'll be available for the ceremonial ball?"
"I still think the timing inappropriate, but I shall be there." Jarvan murmured. It will be fun for Shyvana. The very thought of seeing Shyvana in a slinky dress that could hug her curves brought a bit of color and a thin smile to Jarvan's face. Jarvan's parents both smiled.
The king patted his son on the shoulder. "It will be good to show the people that we are both confident in our country and ourselves. There will be several announcements made at the ceremonial ball. The first of course, will be your official homecoming. Despite your return to her, Demacia has never had the chance to formally welcome you home." The king smiled for a moment, trying to to display both his pride in his son and his nation. Jarvan didn't share the sentiment though, a bit of a frown settling on his face as he looked up at his father. "And the young dragon girl. How is she? I heard she was injured this morning."
"Everyone keeps asking me and I wish I knew." Jarvan said, his eyes narrowing slightly, his suspicions of his father steadily growing. "I'm surprised you did. You've hardly seemed interested in her well being in the past." Jarvan waited for a moment to see what sort of effect the comment had of his father, but there wasn't any reaction, his father's face remaining impassible, even his eyes not reflecting the comment. Surprised that there had been no reaction, Jarvan shrugged. "I have yet to be able to get away to go and find out how she is faring."
"Unfortunate." The king said evenly, completely ignoring the thinly veiled insult. "Speaking of, the next order of business at the ball will be the presentation of four medals, three of them to Shyvana and one further to her friend, Alicia Juniper." Jarvan noted the moment of hesitation before the king used her actual name. "Her acts of bravery are being recognized by both Demacia and Piltover, and she will be receiving a Demacian Distinguished Service Star in addition to a Piltovan Medal of Valor. She will also gain the right to wear Demacia Wound stripes, as well as Second Class Gallantry stripes."
Jarvan frowned slightly, looking to the king without trying to hide his confusion. Colloquially known as 'blood marks' among the military, wound strips were a representation and decoration granted to those who had been wounded in combat or service to Demacia, the red bands worn just above the cuffs of a soldier's uniform tunic. Gallantry stripes were similar, but they had a slightly different meaning. Typically awarded for courage demonstrated during the heat of the moment, Demacia soldiers knew them to carry a deeper meaning than even that. Often awarded posthumously, soldiers of the Demacia military believed that true heroism came when someone knew that doing the right thing would hurt, but they did it anyway. Worn along the outer seams of a soldier's uniform pant leg or skirt, the red or gold lines were considered to be one of the greatest commendations that could be awarded to a living soldier.
"You're making her out as a hero?" Jarvan said suspiciously. His brow creased as he crossed his arms over his chest "Why can't you just give her an actual position and stop forcing her to be babysat all day by the Royal Guard's training company? Would that be too difficult?"
"Perhaps..." The king mused, an thoughtful expression on his face as he ran his hand over his beard again. He turned to the Seneschal and nodded his head slightly, the dark eyed warrior remaining silent and stoic through the conversation. "How about this: If she can beat Xin Zhao in a duel, I'll personally put her promotion and assignment to you as your personal bodyguard forward to high command." The smirk the king wore told of how he didn't believe she could do it.
"Promise?" Jarvan hissed.
The king chuckled. "Of course!" He smiled confidently. "No terms, conditions, stipulations, anything."
"And if she fails?" Jarvan said hesitantly. It seemed to be to good to be true.
"She simply continues her training. She can try again whenever she wants when she fails." The king shrugged. He looked to the Seneschal, but Xin Zhao remained quiet, his vigilance turned to the remaining occupants of the room rather than the conversation at hand. "It is set then." A moment of silence followed as the king offered his son a smile, though the prince did not return it. "You know, I heard she saved the life of a well-known Piltovan scientist, and now he says he wishes to continue his research here in Demacia." A thin smile settled on the king's face.
Jarvan blinked away the shock, his face hardening into a dark frown. "If you planned this entire thing plot from the start..." Jarvan growled menacingly, his fists quivering as he openly stared at his father's audacity.
"I may be a scheming old man, but I would never intentionally put someone in a position like that without their consent." The king took on a look of offense, but there was a coldness in his icy blue eyes that betrayed the hurt expression.
"That's bullshit and you know it." Jarvan growled.
"Jarvan!" Lady Catherine snapped, surprised at her son's angered outburst. "Why must you continue to speak to your father like that?"
"It's fine, Catherine." The kind said, raising a hand to forestall her protest. She was cross as she laced her arms together over her chest, frowning at her husband and then her son in turn. "It's high time our son started to learn how to lead the nation that he will someday inherit. If he wants to stand by his sense of idealism and honesty, then he can do so." The king turned to stare at the prince and his eyes darkened to that of the most menacing thunderheads the sky had to offer. "However your idealism will lead you down a road that is wrought with hardship and pain, my son. Loved ones and friends will suffer from your decisions, and you must be prepared to deal with that." The king's glare lightened ever so slightly, but its intensity didn't fade a bit. "As king, you will be forced to make decisions that will cause some to suffer for the benefit of the masses. If you try to protect everyone, you won't be able to protect anyone."
"Since when did you become such a cynical asshole?" Jarvan snarled.
"Jarvan!" Lady Catherine snapped again.
"What?" Jarvan growled, standing up straighter, towering over his mother. "What's wrong with idealism?" He turned and glared at his father. "What happened to Demacia being the shining bastion of all that was right? We were the paragon of virtue, raising justice for everyone above all else!" Jarvan waved his hand in front of his face. He snarled and took two steps away from his parents, pausing, spinning back to face then and then pointing to the ground menacingly. "I returned to a city rife with classicism, lies, hatred, anger, greed, squabbling nobles, and a king who is too busy plotting with the general of Demsec to bother looking around and seeing all the problems with the city he once fought to protect!"
"Jarvan..." The king whispered softly, his voice wavering slightly.
"What?" The prince spun about, glaring at the king and pointing an accusing finger at him, the prince's arm quivering in anger. "I'm sorry I'm not your ideal son, I'm not the example you wanted me to be, simply riding the waves left in your wake. All you've ever done is tell me what to do, where to go, who to kill. If you wanted a son who was just a slave to your whims, why don't you go adopt Jormander?" Jarvan snarled. "He's exactly like you, hell, he's practically cut from the same damn cloth! Cunning, ruthless, plotting, an asshole... and above all else, both of you view me like nothing more than a tool to be used in your own schemes!" Jarvan threw his arms up in exasperation.
It was as if thunder had broken loose in the king's eyes, but there was also pain in his expression. The sharp blue color dulled slightly and Jarvan felt his breath catch in his throat. Jarvan III sighed heavily and ran a hand over his beard, the wear and tear of trying to run a nation suddenly evident on his face. He grimaced and looked at Jarvan, his eyes lightening slightly as frustration marred his expression. "I trust Jormander as if he were kin, but the reality remains: he is not. There is no bond stronger than blood." The King reached out and set and hand on his son's shoulder, frustration and pride again flowing through his expression. "It angers me to no end because trouble just seems to follow you, and yet I wouldn't change anything about you." The king looked to the ground as if this was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. Frustration, pride, pain and nerves all coursed through his expression, and Jarvan could see that he was suffering. Jarvan felt his throat thicken. The queen grabbed her husband's shoulder and then slid her hand into her son's hand, looking at them with hope brightening her eyes.
"Father..." Jarvan said nervously. His father struggled to find his words, glancing to the floor, to Catherine, and every other direction, though the growing distress and frustration on his face was starting to instill a sense of dread in the prince's stomach.
The king shook his head, straightening up slightly. "I'm proud... of the work you've been doing, and I hope you continue with your efficiency. It is good to have someone else who is capable in the palace." The king looked relieved slightly, but Prince Jarvan felt as if he had been crushed. The dread shattered like knives driving through his chest, anger welling in his heart now as he looked to his mother. Frustration mixed with abhorrence marred her face as she shook her head and sighed, her hands falling away and crossing in front of her. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
The king nodded, plowing onwards, blissfully unaware, as if nothing had happened. "The final announcement will be the official announcement of your engagement." Jarvan's eyes went wide as he put two and two together, the awards that were seemingly being showered on Shyvana for no reason suddenly making some sense. A smile started to spread on the prince's face, evaporating the pain he felt, but it slowly turned back to dread as the king turned away, an uncomfortable frown on his mother's face as she refused to meet his gaze. The king cleared his throat. "Elvarran Brightstrom is a fine young woman, Jarvan. She's smart, quick witted and pretty. I think you'll like her."
Jarvan blinked several times in disbelief.
He clicked his jaw shut and shook his head, his mind struggling to comprehend the man who stood before him. "Father..." Jarvan growled menacingly.
"I don't want to hear it, son." The king said firmly, his eyes clouding over to the blue-gray of a menacing thunderhead. "This conversation is over." He quickly turned and marched off, an army of aides falling into his wake as he moved quickly from the throne room before Jarvan could sat a single word in protest. Xin Zhao bowed and excused himself, backing away to follow after the king.
Jarvan snarled in anger as he went to turn away and storm off, but his mother grabbed his hand and held onto it as he tried to tug it away. Jarvan wheeled about on her, anger contorting his face into a furious mask. "What, you want to try and convince me I shouldn't pursue her too!? Or maybe you want to try and tell me I can't go and fucking visit her in the hospital?!"
The heat of the pain on the prince's face came first. Jarvan touched his cheek in surprise, his mother's hand raised up, her arm across her chest, her palm facing herself.
She... she slapped me?
The was hurt on Lady Catherine's face as she looked at Jarvan in horror and shame, tears welling in her eyes. "Nothing of the sort!" She snapped with indignation, choking back the tears, glaring at her son before she finally sighed heavily, shaking her head, gesturing towards the back hallways, the prince nodding slightly as he fell in beside her. She took a few moments to produce and dab the tears away, taking a deep breath before she spoke. "Your father... he loves you dearly." She looked torn, turning and watching as her husband marched away stiffly. "He tried to express that today... but it's hard for him. He doesn't know how to tell you because he's had to be the king of Demacia for so long. He doesn't know how to act towards his son."
"I'm hardly his son." Jarvan snarled, though some of the anger had died in his throat as his cheek burned. "I'm a pawn to him, nothing more. He doesn't want what's best for me, he wants what will benefit him the most. He wants to keep the family name alive, he wants to keep his power." Jarvan growled in frustration, spinning and starting away, fear and pain clear in his footfalls as he stomped away. He slowed to a halt, starting to look back to his mother, but not bothering to even meet her gaze. "He is not my father, he is the king. Nothing else."
"Jarvan..." Lady Catherine whispered, her tone husky and strained as pain flowed through her voice.
"We're going, Del." Jarvan snapped, headed for the door. He paused, looking out the window, a snarl dying in his throat. "The hospital is probably closed now..." He ran a hand over his head and growled again, this time the anger clear in his throat.
"Sir." Delancey responded quietly, glancing at queen, her eyes following her son as he left. The queen glared at Delancey for a moment but the sergeant bowed nervously and quickly turned away, taking off to catch up with Jarvan.