The beauty stood before Jarvan, a smirk on her face, as her hand turned the crystal gems in her scepter. Garen stood threateningly before his prince, glaring at one of the more powerful Noxian mages.
"Why are you here, witch?" he growled, ready to defend his prince.
Though, these days it was strange for any hostilities to be displayed outside of the League. Still, better safe than sorry, especially with one as old and treacherous as LeBlanc.
The Deceiver stared past Garen, uninterested in him. To one so old and undying as she, he was but a pawn made of ash. No, tonight she was interested in more important pieces.
"I have come to inform you that a certain Ionian is in need of rescue and I think it would be quite profitable for you to ensure that such a thing happens".
Jarvan's eyebrows rose in mild disbelief, "While we have no quarrel with the Ionians, why do you not bring this information to them? We have no interest in losing good people, good fighters, to go and save someone who is not Demacian".
LeBlanc chuckled, "See that is your problem, good Prince: so shortsighted. Though", at this she turned to the side and chuckled,
"I suppose one with such a short lifespan would not be able to see far anyways. The Ionian I speak of is the Arrow of Retribution, Varus".
Those sitting in the courtroom turned to each other with confused looks. Yes, the man was technically Ionian, but after he had taken in the strange corruption that he had once guarded the Ionians had, at best, been frosty.
"What do we care of Varus?" Jarvan queried.
"Well, you see, my good friend Jericho has finally figured out how to wrest that spirit from Varus. He intends to take it for himself and, while Swain is already a perfectly capable sorcerer, a spirit of destruction would make him" she took an almost dramatic pause and tisked in annoyance,
"far more powerful than he already is".
Garen spoke up again, "And why would one of his allies want to stop him from that, witch? Why should we believe your story, it is surely a trap!"
He turned to Jarvan, "Your highness, I implore you! Have this woman tossed form the city, she is clearly wasting our time".
Jarvan simply held up a hand and gave his subject a dark look. It was enough to quell the larger man's ire and have him look down, cowed.
Leblanc glared at Garen,"You need to have your dogs better trained, Prince" She gave Jarvan a cold look.
"Swain is already mentally and magically more superior to most in Noxus. Giving him the physical superiority that that spirit might provide would simply create an imbalance of power that I am not willing to allow in my city"
The crystals around her staff and the brooch in her hair glowed darkly, almost as if to match her mood. Perhaps it was her rising anger, causing her power to leak. The court shifted nervously. As if tasting their fear a smile etched it's way back onto LeBlanc's face. When she was sure she had their attention she continued, her voice low and rich:
"The poor Ionian fool was captured a few days ago. He is being held until Swain has the time to prepare the ceremonies needed. It would be in your best interest to free him before Swain gets his hands on him at all. Who knows what will be done to sedate that poor, stupid man?"
Jarvan sat forward, "Why should we trust you LeBlanc?"
She let out a pious huff of air and turned on her heel. "You don't have to trust me, Prince. You can ignore what I have told you. The Arrow of Retribution can die, as I suspect he will do when the spirit is taken from him. Swain will no longer be a cripple. Imagine how much more dangerous he will be in the games, when he comes fully prepared in mind, magic and body? Truly, what will stop him from simply cementing his power in Noxus and coming to knock on your door?"
She took her cloak and wrapped it around herself, let out a call of "I bid you adieu" and vanished.
Jarvan sat back and seemed to contemplate for a few moments. Then he turned to Garen,
"Bring me your sister, we have some things to discuss"
Garen seemed to barely hold his protests back, biting his lip. He could not, would not, say anything disrespectful to his prince. Not here, not in court. Not ever. He bowed and turned towards his sister's quarters, where he was fairly certain she would be studying. He prayed that Jarvan did not truly intend what Garen suspected. He prayed his sister would not be going to Noxus.
Hey readers, any and all feedback is very much appreciated. I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this story, but it's been a plot bunny in the back of my head for a couple of months. I hope you enjoy it.