Jarvan stared up at the man and blinked a few times, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"How... how are you here? I thought you were dead?" Jarvan shook his head.

"I'll explain in due time." General Du Couteau said with a cold but toothy grin. "It's quite the long tale, but seeing as you've got nowhere else to go, and I need someone to know exactly what is going on right now, I unfortunately am left with no choice." He shrugged, wearing a thin grin, and though there was no malice in his eyes, they seemed distant and cold, as if he had been away from the world for far too long. He looked to the sky and frowned slightly. "We don't have nearly as much time as I would have liked, but I shall explain what I can."

"What about my men?" Jarvan grunted, attempting to push himself up. Pain ripped through his chest though, a blinding pain that caused him to suck in a hard breath and clutch at his chest desperately. He lay back and turned his head slightly, looking beyond to where scraps of Demacian armor and tattered fabric could be seen flapping in the icy wind.

"They might live." Du Couteau said faintly, shrugging, crouching down next to Jarvan and examining the gash across the prince's chest and the nasty looking hole in his side. "You're the worst of the lot, unsurprisingly. You've got major internal bleeding, deep lacerations in your right thigh, chest and left arm, a puncture wound in your abdomen, bruising over what I guess to be nearly sixty percent of your body, and your heart isn't beating properly, some sort of arrhythmia." Du Couteau sighed and shook his head. "Quality and quantity of damage in this case. You're going to kill yourself if you keep over using your damnable light shield, though. You're taxing your body's natural ability to produce the mana needed to summon said magicks. I've seen it in many a young magus with strong latent abilities that didn't have full control over their powers. Your heart will give out if you do not control it."

"My body is not so weak." Jarvan stammered, but the fluttering of his heart in his chest told him that the man was probably correct in his diagnosis.

"Don't be stupid." Du Couteau grunted shaking his head and sighed. "You're really are a brick headed as they come, aren't you?"

"Insult me all you want, it doesn't matter at this point." Jarvan spat, closing his eyes.

"Such vehemence, I would have expected better of you, prince, especially considering how I saved your life." The man offered up his cold, toothy grin again. It sent shivers down Jarvan's spine. "That's twice now, you owe me. The least you could do is hear me out."

"What good would it do to listen to a Noxian anyways?" Jarvan growled, looking to where a dark cloak fluttered in the mud. "Were these not your men sent to kill me?"

Another sigh. Du Couteau scooped Forsythe's helmet from the ground, looked it over and then set it on the ground, right side up, sitting atop it next to Jarvan. "You don't get it do you?" Du Couteau narrowed his eyes as he watched the prince for a few seconds, finally shaking his head. "I no longer am a member of the Noxian High Command. I gave up that mantle when I was sentenced to death."

"There was no death order put on your head." Jarvan grunted, moving his shoulder slightly to try and remove some of the pain in his arm. "If there were, we would have heard about it. You disappeared in the Ivory Ward, did you not?"

"It seems my daughter shared some information with you at least, good." Du Couteau nodded. "But even she did not have the whole story. My original plan was to defect." He wore a paper thin smile, waiting for that shock to sink in.

"...what? Why?" Jarvan breathed, his eyes as wide as saucers now. "You're a celebrated Noxian General! You were third in command of all of Noxus! Why defect?"

"All in due time." The Noxian said, nodding his head slowly. "I'll explain things from the beginning if I have time, but I fear my time is already being cut short. First, there is something about Noxus you must know. In Noxus, there exists two major sects within the high command that have been fostering a great rift over the last twenty-five years. The larger of the two is a group of moderates that currently control much of the government, currently led by the reigning High Commander, Grand General Boram Darkwill." A smile flickered over the man's face. "Moderate, by Noxian standards in their desire to further Noxus without need for combat and loss of life. They were of the first to support the Institute of War, which in turn has led your own Demacia to join. These moderates think of themselves as forward-lookers, seeking to preserve Noxus, rather than continuing to seek dominion over the rest of Valoran. Opposing the reigning power is a secretive group of extremists that are led by an old contemporary of the Grand General. They seek to restore Noxus to her former glory, as one of the single strongest powers in the land, dominating all the smaller city-states that has risen to power in the last few decades, thanks to the advent of the Institute. They would see Noxus return to the olden ways, and the return of the aristocracy, returning Noxus to the glory where 'only the strong survive'. They are led by their Matron, a woman known only to a few by the name of Evaine. However, she has taken on the mantle of Emilia Leblanc, the leader of The Black Rose."

"The Black Rose?" Jarvan's eyes grew wide again. "L..."

"You know of that as well, good, good." The general smiled again, his cold expression melting slightly. "The name she currently goes by is only a title in reality, and she uses this title as she goes about her business taking care of every dirty deed needed to bring the Black Rose back into power. There are several other members within the Noxian Government and spread across the lands, but I only know of a few of the members with which I have had personal business. It's been centuries since they held any power though, so they've been pushing to regain it and their plans are slowly starting to come to fruition. I used to be a part of that group, the Black Rose. I was the highest ranking member of the Black Rose within the moderate's party, in the perfect position to do my duty to further the Black Rose."

"You were a renowned assassin, as well as an officer." Jarvan said softly, his eyes again growing massive. "You were going to kill the grand general? A coup?"

"Clever boy." The general's grin turned snake-like. "Yes, that was the plan."

"But you backed out..." Jarvan said, his brow creasing slightly. "You didn't go through with the plan, why?"

"The Grand General does not leave Darkbourne Hold for any reason." The general sighed softly. "He was paranoid, and rightly so. His fortress was patrolled by companies and companies of Raedsel Guardsmen, and the only time he allows himself to be seen is in the company of each of the other members of the high command. It's unfortunate, but I realized the hopelessness of the plan, for with even the strongest of the Black Rose's magicks, I would not be able to penetrate that hold. The others slowly started to realize that I was not willing to risk my own life and the life of my family to further their fruitless cause. It cost me dearly though, the livelihood of my wife and nearly that of my eldest daughter was robbed in an attempt to sway my feelings towards the Black Rose many years ago, and when I realized how hopeless my own situation was, and how the lives of my daughters were at risk, I decided that the only way I could solve the problem was by faking my death and disappearing completely. No one could know I was gone, not even my own daughters, so when Leblanc and her lackeys made their move on me, I fled and disappeared into the night. It's somewhat ironic, really. I originally wanted to escape the Black Rose so I would not deprive my daughters of their father, and in the end it happened anyways."

Jarvan exhaled sharply, grunting in pain at the sharp movement, regretting it immediately. "Katarina is worried sick about you." Jarvan grinned, closing his eyes. "So worried she came to me in search of information. She dragged me into all of this… that stupid bit-…" Jarvan hissed slightly as Du Couteau applied light pressure to Jarvan's arm with a knee. He offered the young prince an icy smile, watching with excruciatingly false happiness as Jarvan glanced away and bit his tongue.

"It's heartwarming to know she cares more about me than her own safety." The Noxian said with a sardonic grin. "You may think me mad, you may choose to believe nothing I tell you, but do not doubt my convictions or motivations." A crooked grin broke out on his face. "Someday, when you and the dragon girl have children of your own, you'll understand my reasoning. It's something that neither Swain nor Leblanc could ever understand. They care for no one but themselves. They would see Noxus burn to the ground if it meant achieving their goals. I saw this darkness in them and I knew that it was only a matter of time before I as well was drawn too deep to retain what scraps of humanity I had remaining. I got out while I could."

Several long moments passed as Jarvan stared into the sky, contemplated the man's words. If his claims are true, then my theory was correct; Swain desires to start a war. They're trying to force Demacia's…. my hand. Jarvan exhaled slowly, his mouth a hard, thin line. "So why come to me?"

"My first choice was actually your father." Du Couteau said with a shrug. "He was always a fun adversary when it came to war gaming and intelligence and espionage back during my heyday within the Noxian High Command. He was a rival of sorts, though I doubt he truly saw me as such." The Noxian sighed and shrugged. "I originally intended to seek refuge in Demacia, but my contacts within the Demacian command structure stated that there were too many Noxian agents loyal to Swain and Leblanc for me to actually make a difference. So I used some tricks I learned from Leblanc to impersonate Sergeant Wallace Lee. A bit of blood is all it takes, and with way too much time on my hands, hey, what do you know, I managed to get a post assigned as your bodyguard. It's unfortunate that it took such extreme circumstances to draw you out, but I also had to confirm several things."

"Oh?" Jarvan exhaled sharply again, this time groaning in pain. "What exactly was so important that you need to let my men die and me nearly get killed as well? Hell, your friend died as well!

"Constantin?" Du Couteau sighed softly and shrugged. "A good man. I knew him from when we were kids. He made knives and I made blood run with that fine steel. How you found him though, that I am curious of..."

"When I was in Noxus, two men tried to assassinate Shyvana and I within your estate, using two knives that, if Steelsword was to be believed, were forgeries designed to look like weapons made by this his own hammer and hand." Jarvan shrugged with some effort and a regret filled grimace. "There was also a painting in your house in Noxus that matched one in General Lorcan's office... and more daggers. These were made as a gift when Constantin married the general's daughter. I followed the trail and it led me here, though it all makes a bit more sense when I plug you into the situation."

"Yes, Constantin made the blades for me whenever I needed something unmarked." Du Couteau sighed. "It seems you were used again, prince."

"Used?" Jarvan growled. "For what?"

"These bloody assholes have been hounding me ever since I left Noxus." Du Couteau growled. "I've been trying to ditch them, but they've been tracking my movements and slowly cutting off all of my escape options. When they attacked you, I knew something was up and I intervened on your behalf. It was a ruse to eliminate a threat and draw me out at the same time. I'm sorry you were injured and your dragon-girl companion put in danger, but it was necessary price to be paid. I needed to ensure you were who yourself."

"Myself? On my behalf?" Jarvan coughed sharply, pain arcing through his chest. He lay back and took several slow, shallow breaths. He furrowed his brow and looked to the Noxian. "Make sense... You just said they were here after you? What would you want with me? Who else would I be?"

"Swain seeks open war." Du Couteau's voice flattened, the playful tone dropping away completely. "He and his cohorts aim to depose the grand general and incite war between Noxus and Demacia to secure their power foothold. However, with the grand general still in power, both Swain and the Leblanc can't increase their political holdings by starting a war, not unless they wish to be seen as war mongering fools." Du Couteau frowned. "They want to incite war, bringing it to Noxus's doorstep and the easiest way would be to force your hand. If you attack Noxus, Swain wins glory by defending his nation, expanding his sphere of influence in the process. He tried it once, in Ionia, but he didn't count on the corruption of the Ionian politicians. I will admit, I don't know why he chose you, prince, but he has targeted your consort, the dragon girl."

"Shyvana?" Jarvan said fiercely, his blood boiling at the thought. "But why attack Shyvana? She's not originally from Demacia. What good what it be to bring harm to her?"

"Can you even hear yourself speak, boy?' Du Couteau said, sitting back and grinning slightly. "You're angrier about harm coming to her than you are about the fact that you were ambushed and used as bait! They didn't want to hurt her, they wanted to hurt you! To strike at what is most important in your life! They want to drive you mad, be it with rage, grief, or both, anything it takes to get you to lash out blindly."

Jarvan brow furrowed. "What about the dragon, Kampf? Was all of that Swain's doing?"

"Some of it was, yes." Du Couteau said softly, frowning. "The dragon's grudge was his own, but I don't know if the dragon attack on the village was Swain's doing or just unfortunate chance. Swain spun it in his favor, there's not a Noxian alive who hasn't heard of the Dragon who rescued a prince from the depths of the Fleshling." A smile played over his face. "He tried to incite panic and motivate his forces, but the people were not as moved. When further attacks did not come, the fear of dragons passed, the fear of their fellow Noxian forefront among her peoples." A crooked grin dominated the general face. "Fortunate that the human race is so fickle and forgetful, it could have proved devastating if that had worked. From what I've heard, in the end Swain and Leblanc tried to have the dragon kill you all, with Shyvana promised as his prize if he did, but it didn't work. You stood against an impressive crucible, and gained an impossibly strong ally in the process, something Swain has regretted ever since. I think that's part of the reason he's tried to have Shyvana killed… she's yet another monument to his failings."

"They would do that?" Jarvan said, disgust dripping from his voice.

"You over estimate the humanity of my Noxian compatriots." The general smirked. "They do not think the lives of their men any different than that of weapons or artillery, much less that of you Demacians. In Noxus, strength is the ultimate goal. Without strength, there is weakness. Where there is weakness, there is failure. With failure comes death. If you aren't strong enough to survive on your own, you don't deserve to survive. That is the Noxian way." He exhaled sharply, his grin growing slightly.

"What?" Jarvan asked softly, looking over at the amused expression as the general let his head hand back, his smile growing, twisting about cruelly.

"You two... such a volatile mix, I should have seen it before." The general said softly, shaking his head. "I wondered why they would aim for you specifically, and it only just hit me... Oh, Swain, you haven't changed a bit, have you?" Jarvan's quizzical glare got a chuckle from the general as he shook his head and leaned forward. "Noxians are a decidedly xenophobic group. While they respect strength, they reserve humans for the top of the food chain. In the past, there have been bounties, rewards set for the death of non-humans. While under the influence, that long standing bounty was succinctly swept under the rug, but Swain and Leblanc are petty at best. Your dragon's very life probably offends them more than your incessant meddling in their affairs. It must bug Swain to no end that you escaped from Noxus... you were under his thumb... oh I would have loved to have seen his face when he was told you had escaped."

"I see..." Jarvan said softly. "The DDS Excursion, that was your doing as well, was it not?"

"I do not know what led up to the sinking of the Excursion, but yes, I was originally to arrive via the ship under my new assumed identity and face." The general stroked his chin thoughtfully, tugging on his red beard. "It took me much longer to infiltrate the Demacian Security Brigade than I'm willing to admit, that Jormander is paranoid to the extreme. However, the man whose identity I assumed had already been recruited when he died. It was just a matter of stealing his face and I was in."

"He came from the Freljord, correct?' Jarvan asked. "Lee, I mean."

"He was stationed there, investigating a series of deaths by curious means, yes." The general said, shrugging. He nudged one of the black ice crossbow bolts with his foot and grimaced. "These weapons, the black ice, was being used to kill Demacian scouts who were working with Freljordian tribes. How the Noxians got them, I'm not sure to be perfectly honest, but it's nothing more than a curiosity if you ask me. I was never on the receiving end of it like you were." He shrugged again. "But then again, I never knew anything about it, and frankly, I could care less for the affairs of the Freljord tribes. The only thing of value in the Freljord is ice. By the time I had assumed his identity, he had been ordered home and all his reports had been completed."

"I have to ask..." Jarvan mused softly. "Why Demsec? Surely there would have been easier postings..."

"How's that saying go?" Du Couteau mused as he got to his feet. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Jormander may be a spiteful little pest, but he's good at what he does. Besides, there were a few things I had to take care of before I could be settle in to my new life. It was unfortunate really, they had been friends once upon a time."

"Friends?" Jarvan raised an eyebrow.

"Friendly enemies, I suppose." The general exhaled sharply. "Spies, you would call them. I dealt with a few to keep my identity a secret from Swain as long as I could, but I suppose in the end it only ended up bringing these men that much closer to me." He unceremoniously ended a groaning man's life with a swift kick to the temple. "I figured you would have figured me out a bit sooner, prince. I may have overestimated your ability to pay attention in the face of certain ...distractions. I will admit, I was impressed about how quickly you put the connection between me and Constantin together, though."

"I'm sorry about what happened to your friend." Jarvan said, laying his head back. "I know how it feels to lose someone you were close to."

"I suppose you know that better than anyone, wouldn't you?" There was a window of vulnerability in Du Couteau's face and voice that slammed shut after only a brief few moments. He kneeled down next to Forsythe's body and pressed two fingers to his neck. He grimaced as he stood up, pulling his cloak closer around his body. "Earlier, you asked what I meant when I said you were yourself... I've been following you, watching you since you returned to ensure nothing had changed with your convictions to your nation. I wanted to ensure that you were of sound and competent mind after so long spent away from your nation."

"You thought I was I was being impersonated..." Jarvan said, nodding slowly, the realization dawning on him. "I see now. You impersonated Lee, so it would make sense that someone could do the same to me..." He looked to the general who nodded silently. "How did you know? What would you have done if I was just an imposter?"

"I would have killed you long ago." The man's voice was simple and cold, and it sent shivers down Jarvan's spine. "And it took me a lot longer to decide whether to let you live or not to be honest. The attack on your dragon girl made me doubt my judgment, but when the sharpshooter tried to poison you, I realized they never would try to do away with an asset of their own and it all fell into place." The general grinned slightly at the prince's paling face. "Do not worry, I had a feeling long before that you were not a Noxian plant. Your treat your friends like brothers and sisters, not enemies who simply don't wish to stab you in the back. There is no way you could be Noxian." A smile flickered over his face. "Those sentiments are ingrained in our very being."

"My friends?" Jarvan said softly, looking around. Argus's chest rose and fell at a steady pace, but Forsythe's breathing was much more erratic. "I suppose I did get a bit too close with many of them... Vorscham, June, Del, Forsythe and Val..." Jarvan closed his eyes. "...And Shyvana..."

"You undercut yourself, prince." The general grinned, leaning over Jarvan and looking his chest over, examining some of the messy bandages that had been roughly tied in place. "Your family, General Lorcan, Poppy the Yordle, Kayle the Judicator, High Councilor Elias, Noel Halsington, the Crownguard kids... you're not alone. It is good that you still have friends in your life, like that Crownguard, fellow. What was his name?"

"Garen?" Jarvan said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Yes, that's the one..." The Noxian general narrowed his eyes with a dark frown, grimacing as he shook his head. "I would have thought my daughter would have made a better choice than that..."

"What?" Jarvan asked, frowning as he looked up at the red haired general.

Du Couteau shook his head. "Nothing, it's nothing. Your friends are with you, prince. They are your strength, and your greatest asset. Keep them close, you're going to need all the help you can get." The man's voice had faded to nearly nothing as he sighed tiredly. "I hope you know, prince, if you go to Kalamanda, there is nothing you can do that with change your fate. The only thing that awaits you if you continue to follow this path is your inevitable doom."

"So, what's your point?" Jarvan asked quietly. "Better later than now."

The general snorted and grinned. "You make a good point. I'd ask you to try and ask you to keep the casualties to a minimum, but I wouldn't ask you to do something I wouldn't be willing to do myself. "

"General, your moral compass is so fucked up, I'd be surprised if you could find your way to the fucking road." Jarvan grunted, grinning crookedly

"A moral compass would just be confusing." The general said, chuckling coldly. "It's such a limiting thing, morality." Something rumbled in the distance, a long-off roar of pain and anger. General Du Couteau froze and turned his eyes skyward as the distant pained rumble of a dragon's roar could be heard across the frozen landscape. The groans of the soldiers that had been knocked out by the explosion signaled they were finally rousted, and some slowly got to their feet. "It seems our time is at an end, prince."

"Wait, what about Swain and Leblanc?" Jarvan said, trying to push himself up. He groaned and fell back, hard, grimacing and groaning. "You haven't told me how to stop them!" Jarvan rolled over and grabbed the man's ankle, grimacing and hissing as he did. General Du Couteau dropped down next to him, pressing the wound in the prince's side. Jarvan gasped for air, his mouth hanging open as his hands shuddered and he fell backwards, hitting the ground.

"Stop them? Du Couteau said softly. "You're in no condition to try and stop anyone right now, prince. Their plans are already in motion, the best thing you can do is stay far away."

"I refuse!" Jarvan snarled, glaring intensely up at the man, thought his body screamed in agony, the prince met the emerald eyes intensity and matched it. Du Couteau frowned, but it softened after several long moments.

"Should you chose to go to Kalamanda and attempt to stop what is transpiring, I shall wish you luck." The general sighed. "I won't be able to offer you much help, but I shall do what I can. As for Swain and Leblanc, I wish you the best of luck. Even I do not know what they have planned."

"I will stop them." Jarvan said firmly. "I refuse to sit idly by while they let their machinations play out."

"Then go." Du Couteau said, turning away. "Go to Kalamanda and do everything you can to keep the war from restarting. You cannot let their plans succeed."

"But..." Jarvan started to protest, but the general had already stepped away.

"I'll contact you there." The general said, turning and offering the prince a thin grin as he watched the soldiers slowly clamber to their feet. "That is, if you survive, prince. I wish you luck." With a fleeting grin, the man disappeared in a flash, a brilliant mote of light blinking and then leaving Jarvan in utter silence, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend everything.

"What was that...?" A voice growled. Jarvan turned to watch as a soldier in an oily black cloak got to his feet and shook off the shock of the explosion. He brushed snow from his cloak and searched the ground for a weapon, stumbling about as he did. Jarvan remained still, his heart racing in his chest as he watched the men drift slowly closer, stumbling through the snow. Jarvan groped the ground around him, looking for his lance or even a discarded knife, but he could only feel the slick mud and chunks of ice. Jarvan scowled and dropped his head back as the soldier's gaze ran over him. The man had cold green eyes and as he cast his hood back, the prince could see trails of blood that ran down his neck from his ears. His head gleamed in the dull light, and Jarvan felt his breath quicken as he watched the man's eyes grow wide as they danced over him a second time. He motioned behind him to what Jarvan could only fear was the remainder of his unit.

"Get up you, you twits, we need to clean this shit up. We don't have much time left." He growled, waving them forward. He paused, grunting and looking down at something Jarvan could not see. He kneeled, fiddling with whatever was out of his vision. "Machs, find me something that we can take it back to show we at least killed these assholes."

"Got it, brother." A younger looking soldier said as he pulled his hood back and sighed, shaking the sweat from his short, spiky black hair. He had the same green eyes as the new leader, though they lacked some of the years of the former.

Jarvan's chest burned, he had been holding his breath. He stole a brief greedy breath as the men started towards him, sweeping across the open field towards him. Jarvan looked around again, his eyes darting about, hoping to find anything he could use as a weapon. That's it! Jarvan tried to shift his body, reaching down towards his boot. His side started to ache, the wound in his shoulder and side screaming in pain as he drug his boot up towards him. Come on, come on... if I can just reach my damn boot... Jarvan managed to get a finger around the knife's hilt and he pulled it free. Jarvan looked down at the knife, the dragon's head snarling back up at him. You might just save my ass again, Shyvana.

Jarvan clutched the knife in hand and tried to slow his breathing a much as he could, though the ragged breaths he exhaled hurt his chest and burned his throat.

"Look at this!" The soldier named Machs shouted, pointing at Jarvan. "It's the prince!"

"Check and see if he's alive." The new leader growled, looking in the prince's direction. "Search him if he's dead, there should be a small coin thing on his person. Swain promised us a nice fat bonus is we managed to find it."

"Aye, sir." Machs grumbled, jogging forward as if he had expected praise. He kneeled next to the prince, and started to grab at the prince's cuirass, but Jarvan brought his knife up under the man's chin, driving the full length of the blade up into his skull. His eyes budged and horror played through his face as he spammed once before falling still. Pain ripped through Jarvan's shoulder as he struggled to hold the man's weight up, his arm threatening to buckle as the man's full weight fell on the prince's wounded shoulder. Jarvan's vision darkened, tinged red around the edges.

"Machs, what did you find?" The leader shouted. "Machs? Machs!"

Machs collapsed on top of Jarvan, and the leader surged forward. He grabbed the man who Jarvan had stabbed, blood dripping from his mouth and head, the leader's face contorted with rage. "How are you still alive, you bastard!?" The man looked about in shock and anger, snatching up a sword and raising it up above his head. "You killed Machs, you fuck!" The man brought the knife down, Jarvan just barely catching his hand as the blade hovered inches from Jarvan's chest. He struggled against the leader as he slowly started applying more and more pressure. He started to force the knife down towards Jarvan's chest. "You... killed... my... little... brother!" The leader was practically laying on top of the knife, and the blade has just started to drive into Jarvan's chest, the prince's vision now nearly black as he struggled to survive. "Die! Die! DIE!"

"Not… yet…" Jarvan gasped, snarling as he fought back with the last of his strength. "I'm not done… yet… I must… not… fail…"

An ear shattering screech finally broke the man's attempts to impale the prince.

He sat back and looked up as a massive dragon slammed into him like a freight train, grabbing him with a massive taloned foot. Shyvana crashed down above Jarvan, her claws sending up a tidal wave of ice and mud as she clawed at the ground to stop as the entire forest shuddered around her. She tossed the man up and then snapped his leg out of the air in her jaw, whipping her head about and slamming him into the ground. The man was left in the center of a crater from the impact of his own body being slammed into the ground. A single breath slowly hissed from his lungs as he died.

Shyvana snarled and opened her mouth, spewing a column of flame that three of the soldiers in black simply disappeared into, nothing but ash left as the flames dissipated in a cloud of steam. The remaining two men turned and tried to run, but Shyvana surged forward and smashed one with her armored tail, his back snapping and leaving him lying on the ground at an odd angle. The last man had gotten only a little further, but Shyvana swiped his feet from beneath him with her tail. She lumbered forward, standing over him. She opened her mouth and roared, the man pinned under her massive clawed wings. The man's eyes was wide with terror, his voice caught in his throat as he watched Shyvana's razor sharp teeth snap mere inches from his nose.

"You shall not harm my prince!" Shyvana howled, as she gripped the man's arms in her claws. The man screamed in pain, but his cries of agony turned to a wild laughter.

"You're too late!" He howled as he felt one arm pop from its socket, his muscle beginning to tear as Shyvana snarled. "He's probably already dead!"

"Lies!" Shyvana ripped the man asunder, casting fragments of his body aside as she spun, dropping down towards the prince. "Jarvan? Jarvan!"

Jarvan was lain back on the cold ground, the emptiness and the silence of the air around them suddenly flooding down around him, as if he were getting drowned by the emptiness. There was clarity now as Jarvan took a deep breath and grunted softly, pulling himself up, the pain blinding.

A white hot knife of pain cut deeply into his side, blinding him and sending darkness across his vision. Shyvana gently pulled his head onto her knees, her pale face flushed against the cold as she held him with human arms. She brushed hair and mud from his face, tears streaming down her cheeks as the prince's eyes fluttered open and looked up at her.

"Shy..." His voice was weak and distant.

"I'm here now." Shyvana said, her throat thick as Jarvan's eyes fluttered shut. He tried to move his hand, but the adrenaline had drained from his body and he was left weak and unable to move. The dragoness grabbed his hand, his ravaged body lain atop a bloody patch of snow and ice. "Just hold on... help is on the way..."

Jarvan looked up at the dragoness and offered her a sad smile. "Help just got here. I'm just going to take a short nap now…"

"Hold on, Jarvan." Shyvana begged, holding his cheek. Something warm and wet dripped upon his face. "Just a little longer…"

"I'm so tired…" Jarvan murmured as his eyes fluttered shut.

The flutter of the wind and the sudden heat of the sun caused Jarvan to try and look to the sky, but only distant magenta orbs and darkened shadows clouded his vision. The shadows shrunk briefly as warmth started to flow into him, but the exhaustion and pain he felt was too great.

Jarvan let himself embrace the warmth and the darkness that followed.

Somewhere distant, his name was being called, the sound echoing around him.

Jarvan closed his eyes and exhaled softly, letting the darkness overwhelm him.

I am truly... sorry...