Warning: There's some physical violence in this chapter. This story is a work in progress. Any and all comments or suggestions are very much appreciated.

Garen was beyond irate. Typical of his sister to disappear exactly when he needed to talk to her. She was not in her room, in the training halls or the library. Honestly, if he discovered that she was out galavanting in the market, as he suspected she was, then he was going to shake some sense into her. Eventually she had to learn that she had responsibilities. Seeing as their parents had failed so remarkably to impress that upon her, it was clearly up to Garen to do it.
Garen waded through the throngs of people, his stony expression stopping any of the common folk from calling out to the hero. The Might of Demacia stood head and shoulders above everyone in the market, scanning for a spark of blond hair and listening intently for his sister's voice. She wasn't here either. He was coming close to cursing, though his father's voice echoed in his head 'The Crownguards are a noble family, boy. Nobles do not curse.'.
There was no way Luxanna would be at their parents' home, but Garen was quickly running out of places to look. Much as he was loathe to, he knew he would have to return to his Prince's side quite soon. Returning in failure would be embarrassing, but perhaps Jarvan would take pity on him. He could hardly be expected to keep with the whims of a silly teenager, could he?

The court herald announced his entrance and Garen froze at the sight of his sister kneeling in front of their Prince. Jarvan's eyes met his and a single eyebrow rose. The subtle rebuke added to the flames and Garen bowed before taking his place by his Prince's side.

"I obey, Your Highness, I will make preparations and depart immediately", Luxanna intoned before rising off of her bent knee and heading towards her rooms.
As she moved past him, Garen noted that she was not wearing her usual attire. Perhaps he had failed to notice her because of it. The mistake did not help to soothe his ire, in truth it only made it grow. Could his sister not be more consistent? Now he would have to answer for his folly, while she traipsed off to Noxus for who knew how long?

Jarvan turned to the seething Might of Demacia and motioned him closer.

"A seventeen year old eluding you, Garen? My friend, I believe you are losing your touch", if Jarvan's smirk was anything to go by then the comment was merely in jest.

Garen forced out a small laugh, "Apologies, your Highness, I assure you it was not my wit but her whim that can be blamed for the delay"

Jarvan chuckled, "She is young, such is the way of things. Ah," he reached for a scroll that was resting by his arm, "I seem to have forgotten to give this to your sister"

As Jarvan motioned for a servant to come over, Garen quickly laid a hand on the missive.

"If it would please your Highness, I can give it to her. I would like to give her a few words before she leaves"

Jarvan nodded and Garen was once more traipsing along after his sister.

Lux set her newly repaired armour on its stand. After the last League match it had been particularly scratched and dented, so she had gone to the smith to get it repaired.
Unfortunately, now it seemed she would be making a trip to Noxus. Well, she considered, not a trip. Trip implied that it would be pleasant, and if what Jarvan said was true then this would be more aggravating than anything else.
Seriously, how that idiot managed to get captured was beyond her. He didn't even have any business being in Noxus. She rolled her eyes. Varus wasn't exactly subtle. He probably went into a rage and started killing people. Then Grand General Swain decided enough was enough and now Lux had to go clean up the mess.
"Typical men", she muttered as she placed her least ostentatious staff next to her travel pack. The staff she used in the games was ridiculous, hardly suitable for any kind of discretion.

A pounding at the door made the girl jump and whirl to face it. As she started to call for whomever it was to enter the door opened. Her brother maneuvered his way into her room and slammed the door shut. Before she could open her mouth to comment on his rudeness, his hand was wrapped around her forearm.

"How dare you leave me to be embarrassed by your whimsy", he hissed.

His grip was tightening on her arm quickly, Lux pulled backwards but could not move an inch in his grip. His hand easily held her, almost reaching her elbow.

"I didn't know you were looking for me, how was I supposed to know?" She grit out. She could feel her bones bending under the pressure of his hand.

He leaned closer, blue eyes flashing with rage, "What did father tell you? You are to be predictable, a common factor, when you are in this palace. What were you doing that was so important? Why could I not find you?"

He released her, pushing her back so she sat on her bed. He could not rise to his full height in this room, but he still towered over her. A bruise was already forming on her bare arm and Lux glared up at the man.

"I was getting my armour repaired, Garen. Get out, I have to leave for my mission", she spat at him.

For a moment he was vaguely reminded of a cornered kitten, hissing and spitting with her hair all frizzed up.
He tossed the crumpled scroll at her and turned to leave,

"May you return home successful, Sister". While he did not say it, the rest of the statement was clear: "Succeed, or do not return at all".

With a flick of her wrist the door slammed shut behind him with a blast of magic. She rose off the bed and locked her door, before the man decided that he had not given her enough warning about her behaviour. She was still for a moment, tracing the darkening skin on her arm. At least it was not her right arm, part of her reflected. Rather than waste energy on a glamour she went over to her closet and withdrew a long sleeved tunic.
Her suit of armour caught her eye and she pulled the new shirt over her head. Her murderous glare was accompanied with a shot of unintentional magic. The surface of the metal bubbled and deformed under her gaze. With a small cry she grabbed her staff and slammed it against the buckling metal.

Later, the servants would come to clean Miss Crownguards room and find the melted suit, damaged beyond repair and scorch marks everywhere. It was not the first time such damage had occurred in the girl's room. The pair cleaned the room as best they could and sent the pile of metal down to the smithy with a request for new armour.
It wouldn't do for the Lady to be without her costume in the next games, after all.