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Chapter Text

Jarvan felt pulled apart at the seams. There were lists of deceased to be finalized, rebuilding to be organized. The Ruination had thrown his already tumultuous kingdom into another frenzy of fear and sorrow and the Prince-Regent felt like his reign was already going to be one ill-thought of before it even properly began. 

There was so much to fix, some problems from unfortunate circumstances, and some problems of his very own making. A sense of shame curled in his gut as he thought of his father’s last decree that he had seen burned instead. A part of him didn’t regret it, the other wished his uncle had knocked him over the head and forced him to enact his father’s will.

It certainly would have helped with this mess, but there was no point in worrying over what-could-have-beens.

He was supposed to have met with them already, but then the Illuminators had asked for an emergency meeting with him. The full might of the Harrowing had receded, but they were still finding remnants of it and other after-effects of it around the kingdom. It was all work the Illuminators were well trained to handle, but the Illuminators had needed help getting the Mageseekers out from interfering with their work because the Mageseekers were just sticking their noses into everything now. After a tense meeting, Jarvan found Garen showing the leaders of the Sentinels around one of Demacia’s great training halls. Jarvan was certain Garen was going to complain his ear off for having to entertain the two for the rest of the week.

Jarvan introduced himself and Senna and Lucian replied in kind. They were professional and confident but the ease with which they moved around (or more accurately with each other in sync) immediately told Jarvan about how close their relationship was. He felt an instead flair of jealousy and forced it down. He didn’t have time to be jealous and truly didn’t have the right to be either.  

So many messes of my own making to deal with. 

He led them back to his own office, asking them to “please, take a seat” before sitting down himself. Jarvan didn’t waste any time.

“Thank you so much for coming and I do hope this is the start of a working relationship between the crown and your organization. We certainly can’t risk another catastrophe like the Ruination happening again. If I may ask, do you remember the half-dragon you had to lock away in the dungeons?”

Lucian gave an aborted laugh. “Hard to forget someone as big as her.”

Jarvan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, she can make quite the impression, but I assure you, she’s a fine soldier and member of our military. She shouldn’t have to pay the price for the Ruined King subjecting her underneath his magic. The High Marshal regrets that she can’t join us today but…”

Jarvan would have to fix and learn from his mistakes. Here, he would set the first piece in motion. 

Chapter Text

They were keeping her in the military’s prisoner cells. The other day, Shyvana had listened to her Mageseeker guard complain that she wasn’t been kept in their own facilities. But when she had freed from the mist and had returned to Demacia herself and repentant, the High Marshal had deemed this a military matter. The Mageseekers had been invited to help guard her, but she was to be tried as a Dragonguard who had abandoned her post. 

Irritation curled at how that was an understatement of being trapped within her own mind, her fierce countenance corrupted and amplified to reflect the anger and longing of a dead man she would have rather crushed beneath her claws than help out, but she could also guess that there wasn’t quite anything in Demacia’s military code to more directly cover such extreme circumstances. 

So, a trial for possibly abandonment of duty, as if she would ever do something so craven. 

She sat waiting in her cell, Mageseeker guard continually glaring venom at her, the military guard looking rather indifferent. They had been a mixed bunch over the past month. The first couple days they had been both wary and angry, but then Jarvan had come by, a servant trailing behind him with a stack of clothes she could wear while waiting for her trial. 

“The Sentinels of Light, the faction that freed you and defeated the Ruined King, are wanted for the trial. The High Marshal will consider it an unfair proceeding without their testimony.”

That had been the first event that had tipped the general standing of the military guards towards Shyvana’s favour, though their favour was indifference instead of worry or hope for her to be released. But if the Prince was willing to visit her, and more importantly arrange clothing for her (including the dress she would be wearing to trial today), then there was a good chance that she wasn’t a traitor like the Mageseekers continued to harp and that she was instead another victim of the Ruination. A week ago, the whisperings during a change of guards, too low for a regular human to have heard but a fine level for her better ears, had also told her a large contingent of high-ranking Dragonguard had travelled to Demacia City to testify her good character. 

And as whispers of Sylas of Dregbourne previously being a Mageseeker began to grow and grow in strength, the faction was losing standing with both the rest of the military and the populace. Doubly-so as they continued to demand more support while failing to capture Sylas and his followers. The rest of the military had certainly done more to prevent his attacks than the Mageseekers had recently. 

Shyvana scratched lightly at the inside of her palm with her too-sharp-to-be-human nails, a nervous habit that she had held since childhood, though thankfully she no longer broke skin. Annoyed Mageseekers, Jarvan’s personal involvement (even Shyvana could be politically savvy enough to know that was him taking a risk), and the High Marshal’s surprising leniency (why wait for a half-breed like her to have a fair trial?) were all moves that even she could perceive. It was enough posturing to know that her trial would be a political spectacle and she had no care for that. She just wanted to stay here and return to her work. 

Morning sunlight that was climbing into the afternoon was streaking through the small window from near the top of her cell. Finally, Shyvana heard the thunks of armoured feet making their way towards her cell, multiple sets. From the corner of her eye, she watched both of the guards standing just outside the latticed metal door of her cell stiffen. 

“Captain!”

Her nails dug into the meat of her palm harder, but still she did not break skin, as she watched Garen and two of his soldiers stop in front of her cell. Shyvana could not decide if it was a good or a bad sign that they would send the Dauntless Vanguard to retrieve her. 

More posturing, assuredly. 

This trial certainly was going to have some sort of political showboating involved and Shyvana instinctively wanted no part of it. It’s safer for me to be unnoticed. That was one of the reasonings for myself to join the Dragonsguard, even if Jarvan needs help keeping his ass alive at times. 

She took a deep breath and exhaled, annoyed with herself that the air huffed slightly out of her nose. She hated that they all witnessed her nervousness. 

Garen motioned for the guard to open her cell. Shyvana stood as the door of iron bars creaked open. Garen’s eyes looked at her from top to bottom. Whoever had picked her dress had made a good choice; it was of a simple cut that Shyvana hadn’t struggled to put on and she was sure she wouldn’t be tripping over its one skirt. She would guess that the material was of a high quality, but wasn’t one to really be able to judge that. It was a deep royal blue with a simple band of dark yellow ochre trim. Technically, the colours probably made the violet hue of her skin all the more striking, but they sent a far more important message even if the dress made her otherness all the more apparent. 

She wore Demacian colours. 

Garen turned away from her and motioned towards the hall. “Let’s go.”

Shyvana fell into step and the two soldiers that had accompanied Garen, a young woman with dark brown hair and eyes that stared at Shyvana with a curiosity she couldn’t hide and a large minotaur obviously battle-hardened, took positions up behind her. The group easily fell into sync with their steps. 

Shyvana refused to look back as she heard one of the guards they left behind spit on the floor, but she could not stop herself from momentarily bearing and grinding her teeth in anger. 

I won’t see him again. I won’t see him again. 

And she wouldn’t. She loved her time in Demacia, she did love most of Demacia, but if they would not trust in her, if they decided to brand her a traitor for actions out of her control, then she would leave. And they would regret trying to stop her. 

Shyvana had never seen the military’s courtroom before, an atrium with a gradual slope. It was smaller than she expected, but ornately decorated with banners of the standards of various Demacian regiments. A curved table of warm wood sat on a tall dais at the atrium’s floor. The chair in the center was the largest and where High Marshal Tianna Crownguard sat; the chair’s back was wood carved into wings, denoting that the one leading the trial was following in the legacy of the Winged Protector’s justice. 

The Marshal’s eyes tracked Shyvana as she was lead into the room, but Shyvana did not meet her gaze yet. Instead, she took in the rest of the room. 

Garen and his soldiers lead her down the atrium’s steps. She did not look down in shame, but she also did not incline her head so that her gaze would have looked down on others. There were hundreds of eyes on her. Shyvana heard whispers as she descended, a mixed bunch of scorn and wonder, worry thrown in as she neared the bottom. There sat a whole two rows filled with the red and gold of the Dragonguard. She turned to look at them, meeting their gazes and small smiles with one of her own.

Shyvana stepped down on the atrium floor. Demacia prided itself of justice for everyone, not even a prince was except from its rule. Jarvan was seated in the first row; if he was to participate and not arbitrate he had no place at the high table with the Marshal. Her eyes sought his and Shyvana watched as his stern expression broke for a second into something softer before worry overtook it again. Her own expression matched that worry. 

There was time only for that one glance as she passed him. Garen motioned her to stand in front of the dais and Shyvana realized there was iconography on the floor. There was a circle defined by coloured tiles that depicted an iron chain crackling with purple lightning and fire. Wings similar to those of the Protector’s fanned out from the circle, set in a similar shade of purple tile to the lightning and fire. 

Shyvana stepped into the chain circle and had one brief moment to think about how rarely Demacians used purple before the High Marshal began. 

“I open today’s court and summon Ser Shyvana, given the last name Dragonslayer by the late King Jarvan Lightshield III upon her ascension to knighthood, to be questioned and possibly punished for abandoning her post in the Dragonguard.” Tianna’s voice was even and stern, but Shyvana also knew from what others said of the woman that her voice was rarely anything but that. Annoyance had Shyvana ignoring the urge to scratch at her palms again; it rankled her that Tianna’s face was so smooth and controlled, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Do you understand why you are here, Shyvana Dragonslayer?”

Which, it may have been an everyday experience for the High Marshal, this kind of trial. Shyvana hadn’t often thought about the higher levels of the military's organization and how it worked. She had only been concerned with Jarvan’s safety after she had first been knighted. After he had asked her to transfer to the Dragonguard (she ignored the part of her that quickly recollected that conversation, an argument in his rooms, Jarvan and herself skirting around the issue that was too dangerous to name) she really didn’t worry about those like the Marshal. Her orders were clear at that point and the Dragonguard were a special division often working separate from the Dauntless Vanguard and other divisions that covered the overall and general defense of Demacia. 

Shyvana thought all of this as she reflexively answered. “Yes, High Marshal Crownguard.” 

The High Marshal nodded. “Let us begin then. The fact that you fought against Demacia is fact; that is not what we are here to question today. However, the nature of your crime is contested. Long has Demacia known the influence magic can have on those unwilling to be within its clutches and long has Demacia sought justice for those wronged by magic. The court today shall decide if you are to be held accountable for your actions or if someone else’s evil was to blame.” 

Tianna inclined her head. “Eldred Crownguard, leader of the Mageseekers, has sought to lead in accusing Shyvana. Prince-Regent Jarvan Lightshield IV, as her direct lord, has chosen to support her in seeking justice for crimes of magic against her.” The Marshal’s eyes swept over the room. “To clarify for those unaware, Ser Shyvana Dragonslayer is a knighted member of Jarvan’s personal guard and is on loan to the Dragonguard for her expertise. Conflicts of interest have prevented her from captaincy in the Dragonguard.”

Shyvana’s anger cooled with surprise. She hadn’t known that she had been considered for leadership, though she had heard other members of the Dragonguard saying that they would support such an appointment. Personally, she thought she was still ill-suited for it. She felt like she still had far too much to learn about working with others after spending so much of her life on the run.

“First,” the High Marshal’s gaze landed on Shyvana, “what have you say about the accusations against you?”

Shyvana’s voice rang out with clarity. “I would never willingly abandon my post.” She wondered if she should admit her shame, confess that she burned with self-hatred at the fact that she had been weak enough to fall to the Ruined King’s sway.

Shyvana had always lived by fear and anger. These two emotions had kept her alive for years, fear carrying her and her father through her childhood, anger carrying her forward alone after Yvva had killed Father. 

Her whole being curled with shame that some idiot in too-tight breeches had used those two emotions against her. All she had left was her pride. Admitting her shame now would probably help her in this trial, but she couldn’t. All she had left was her pride. 

Tianna only nodded. “Head Adept, you contend this and were moving for Shyvana to be imprisoned before the Ruination.” Disgruntled murmurs rose behind Shyvana, and a small smile rose as she recognized the Dragonguard cursing the Mageseekers. 

Eldred Crownguard stood from his place in the first row, the opposite side from where Jarvan sat, and stepped forward to stand on one of the purple wings that outstretched from Shyvana’s circle of chains. “The affliction of magic is clearly upon her, High Marshal.” The marriage between Eldred and Tianna was supposed to mean nothing in this room. The High Marshal's flat stare remained on her face as she glanced at her husband. “Multiple witnesses can attest to her transforming into a horrid creature resembling a dragon.”

Jarvan stepped forward onto the wing on Shyvana’s right side. “Affliction is for humanity, for the unnatural happenstances that erupt in humans during adolescence. It has never applied to other races we welcome into the kingdom. Or does the Head Adapt also wish to propose that the greater strength of the minotaurs is unnatural? After all, everyone of their members is born with such gifts.”

And so the verbal melee began, Shyvana caught up in the swarm of it all. Though truly small in number, the minotaur population of Demacia was noticeable, but Shyvana had never over-thought their presence. In the span of half an hour, maybe longer, Shyvana learned that their acceptance was still rather contentious. 

Many minotaurs found their way into the military, even could earn the honour of joining the Dauntless Vanguard. Their population may have been small, but there were a few in this room at the moment between the Vanguard’s and the Dragonguard’s numbers. Their anger was becoming palpable when the High Marshal cut Eldred and Jarvan off in their debate between affliction and natural talent. 

“Enough.” Shyvana’s head had been turning between Jarvan and Eldred, and to let it rest steady and forward to Tianna was an odd break from the long stint of constant movement. “I have allowed this debate to continue to see if the Head Adept, as an expert in affliction, had notable evidence to contribute.” Tianna Crownguard attended trial in her full plate mail, as was befitting of the high Marshal. A single, armoured finger tapped on the wooden table in front of her. “After the victory at Wrenwall, Prince Jarvan IV requested that the outsider Shyvana be appointed to his guard, as she had not only saved the city but also his life beforehand. His Majesty the late Jarvan III and I discussed long into the night on the matter and sought insight from Lord Quickstrike, ambassador to Shurima, and Lady Whittle, ambassador to Ionia.”

There was a pause. Tianna gazed over the room, head steady and forward, watching the audience behind Shyvana before her eyes shifted downwards. She looked directly into Shyvana’s own eyes as she spoke. “We all came to an agreement: If a non-human was to uphold our ideals, to swear to protect this land and to be willing to fight on our behalf, then it would be unjust to hold their nature against them.” Tianna stood and rested a mailed hand on one of the carved wings of her chair. “The Protector was not human and yet their divine light guides us to prosperity and integrity. No new evidence has been brought forward in regard to what Shyvana Dragonslayer is. Her nature is not in question. Her actions are.”

Shyvana suddenly became over aware of her body. How she had been standing ramrod straight, every muscle tense, as if ready for a fight. In the back of her mind, in all of the years she had lived in Demacia, it was as if a part of her had always been ready for a fight. Had always known that people here would contend with her existence. 

High Marshal Tianna Crownguard was a symbol of that opposition. The justice of Demacia. A leader that upheld the King’s law. Jarvan III had knighted her, but even then a part of her had not fully trusted that judgment, had thought it was Jarvan III giving into his son’s whims. 

High Marshal Tianna Crownguard spoke and Shyvana realized maybe the older woman was not as rigid as Shyvana had assumed. 

A hush had fallen over the room, the mention of Jarvan III almost shocking, the loss of his life still somehow raw. It made it all the more embarrassing for Eldred, for everyone in the room heard his sound of indignation at Tianna’s announcement. “Now,” Tianna sat back down,” to move onto the question of Ser Shyvana being a victim of magical control. Jarvan IV, you have brought forth someone to testify, yes?” 

“Yes.” There was movement in the corner of her eye and Shyvana turned her head as a woman, smartly dressed in an outfit of cream and gold that complimented her dark skin, came up to stand beside Jarvan. It took a moment, but Shyvana then realized that it was the woman who had helped Shauna Vayne in throwing her into the Mageseekers’ dungeons. Resentment flared within her briefly before she squashed it down. Unlike Vayne, the woman had strength worth admiring, both magical and physical, if the way she had wielded that giant gun had been any evidence to go by. Qualities of leadership too, both from how quickly she had organized the man with her and Vayne to work together.

Jarvan nodded at her before introducing her. “Senna is the leader of the Sentinels of Light, the faction that defeated the Ruined King and stopped the Black Mists from further expanding across Runeterra. She has worked for years to prevent the Ruined King’s magic from harming others.” 

“The good that did any of us.” A roar overtook the chamber after Eldred spoke; Jarvan immediately becoming offended on his guest's behalf, members of the military yelling either agreement or slander at the Mageseekers for how often they’ve failed to deal with any threat to Demacia recently. 

A woman’s voice managed to climb above the rest. “Oh yeah, you dealt with the Mist like you dealt with Sylas?” 

Shyvana studied Senna closer as the High Marshal called the room back to order. Her brow had furrowed at Eldred’s remark, her mouth flattened into a hard line, but her eyes were somehow still rather calm. Not angry, Shyvana realized, but disappointed. And it was disappointing, wasn’t it? That someone who was supposed to be the leader of a highly-regarded faction was antsy enough to take such a cheap shot in a court proceeding. 

It was just more proof of what Shyvana had known for a while. Demacia was a mess, more so recently after Jarvan III’s death and Jarvan IV’s rampaging grief. 

Her eyes flicked to Jarvan for a moment, frustration clear on his face as he waited for the room to settle. This would be the first of many messes he would have to clean up; Shyvana just hoped she would be able to stick around to watch him do so, maybe get the chance to yell some common fucking sense into him herself. 

The room quieted. The High Marshal smiled at Senna. “My apologies, we Demacians try to grace our guests with respect, but I hope you can understand that some are still reeling with both grief and fear from recent events.” Her gaze never left Senna, but the reproach to Eldred was clear and there was a quiet murmur of laughter from the crowd. She didn’t know much about relationships, but Shyvana was quickly deciding that Tianna and Eldred’s marriage must have been a political match. “Did the Ruined King have the power to control others against their will through magic?”

Shyvana instantly decided she liked the strength and confidence of Senna’s voice. “Yes. If he sought to control someone, there’s very few people who can fight off the Mist if he’s putting the whole of his power behind it.” Senna turned and made eye contact with Shyvana, a small, crooked grin on her face now. It wasn’t mean, even Shyvana could see the sympathy in Senna’s eyes. “I don’t mean any offense. I don’t know if you remember, but my husband and I helped Vayne take you down. I know you pack a punch, but not even someone like you wouldn't have had a chance fighting him off alone, it would be hard even with help.” 

Eldred cut in. “I find that hard to believe. You saw how destructive her magic was. You want me to believe that she didn’t choose to destroy everything herself? Soldiers heard her threatening our kingdom!”

“And they also would have clearly heard Viego’s voice ringing out even through her own.” Senna’s voice had taken a hard edge. “Aye, she was rampaging when we fought her down, but for someone who was breathing fire all over the place, there was a surprising lack of magical fire crawling your buildings. Her attacks were concentrated on those opposing her which is a modicum of self-control I doubt Viego was caring about.”

Senna took a step forward, angling herself so that she was now staring Eldred down. “Viego managed to control the Aspect of War and the Spirit of Ionia. Now, I know Demacia doesn’t do magic; I won’t begrudge you all on that even if I don’t agree with it, but to make this clear to you - Viego imprisoned a demigod and the magical centre of Ionia in their own minds. There’s no way Shyvana would have been able to fight him off if he had made his decision on her being one of his puppets.” 

An odd silence settled over the room. It unsettled Shyvana. It gave time for her thoughts to catch up to her, the shame rising in her throat again. She scratched and her palms and the silence stretched. Tianna’s gaze had left Senna at some point and was now directed at her. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“I would never abandon my post. I’ve fought too long with the others in the Dragonguard to leave them behind like that. The only reason we were the first to realize the Mist was coming was because of how it was forcing the dragons to come down from the mountains in a wave. We were going out to meet them when he- I-“ Shyvana’s voice cracked; shame closed her throat while anger curled her face in a snarl. She was certain Eldred would comment on it, looked towards him and saw his mouth opening and curling itself with disdain, when a roar came up behind her.

It was the Dragonguard again, all yelling their agreement. Lieutenant Jerik’s voiced called out after the initial wave of noise died. “I’ve fought beside Shyvana for years and she’s never hurt one of us. Our guard literally watched the Mist take her on the field and if the Mageseekers want to lie and say she went willingly I’ll certainly duel them on our member’s behalf.”

That got the whole room whispering again. Shyvana didn’t quite know the rules, the trappings and rituals of the nobility were matters she didn’t concern herself with, but she knew enough to know that duels were quite the challenge in social terms. That they could even settle legal matters. Despite how cultured the nobles tried to act, they still valued martial prowess above all. That’s why so many houses still bothered to send multiple children to the military’s different factions.

Shyvana grinned herself now. And the Mageseekers? Well, they were the least popular choice still, even if their reputation had gone up underneath Eldred’s leadership. He had grown their power, but when one looked at the Head Adept and the senior Adepts around him, one could easily see that many of them did not bother to upkeep their martial pursuits, if they had even trained in a discipline. 

That was why they were struggling to keep their reputation now. It was the Dauntless Vanguard who had fought off Sylas on his first advance after allying with tribes from the Freljord, and it was the Vanguard who continued to fight him off without the Mageseekers help. Even the Dragonguard was working against the rogue mages more, having stopped a few inquisitive mages from trying to steal dragon eggs out from the mountains. 

The High Marshal raised her hand and the room slowly fell back into silence. “I believe the testimony of the Sentinel of Light. General Meere, please step forward.”

There was shuffling behind her and Shyvana craned her neck around to watch Justin Meere, General of the Dragonguard, step down from the atrium’s second row. He walked forward to stand beside Jarvan’s left side, positioning himself between Jarvan and Shyvana, inclining his head briefly to her before coming to a parade rest. 

General Meere was old with salt-and-pepper hair and a burn that climbed up the column of his throat from his collarbone to just underneath his left eye. Shyvana respected him immensely. When she had first joined the Dragonguard, he had sent her out into a field, demanding that she transform from human to dragon and back again multiple times, so he could “understand the process and its effects.” He had brought different materials for her to burn and claw, had tested her strength while she was human, all so that he knew the soldier he had in his employ. 

It wasn’t special treatment and it wasn’t humiliating; he had looked at her and had evaluated her for use and then had put her to work with consideration for all of her abilities, without hate or distrust. 

“Do you have any reason to believe that Shyvana would betray the kingdom?”

“Not at all, High Marshal. She’s hard-working and loyal. She’s always been transparent with myself as I put her through the paces once she joined the Dragonguard; thought it would be dangerous to accept someone like her if I didn’t know her full range of abilities. And as my guards have said, though I apologize for them all being out of turn, she doesn’t hurt the guard with her power.” The General’s tone of voice changed, obvious amusement creeping in. “Now, I will state that she may have been disparaging the Mageseekers before this whole Ruination mess, but the Adepts have been overstepping their bounds and interfering with our operations and have been trying to imprison my guard member for no good reason. We’ve got a whole contingent put out even now for this mess; we would all like to get back to work soon, ma’am.”

A quick agreement came from the faction behind General Meere and the High Marshal again raised her hand for silence. Tianna then clasped her hands on the table in front of her. Minutes passed and Shyvana resisted the urge to shift her weight between her feet. 

Finally, the High Marshal spoke. “I clear Knight Shyvana Dragonslayer from accusations of abandoning her post and deem her a victim of magic.” 

The room’s volume raised to the loudest it had been all afternoon. The Dragonguard was cheering; the Mageseekers and Shyvana guessed some of the nobility yelling out in anger. Eldred’s face was going red. “She’s a danger to the kingdom and a crime against everything we stand for!” 

Tianna’s gloved fist slapped against the wooden desk, the sound like a thunderclap. “Do you wish to go against our late King’s ruling?”

Eldred had no reply to that. The crowd grumbled. A voice, younger than anyone who had spoken so far (“w hy is there a teenager here” thought Shyvana) was heard. “What does the Prince say on the matter?”

Shyvana’s head whipped to meet Jarvan’s gaze and there was a queer look of sorrow on his face. For the first time that day, a true fear settled into her stomach, a deep fear that made her realize that she was only feeling worry before. She did not know what the expression meant. 

What do you say on the matter?

He did not get the chance to say anything, Tianna’s voice quickly cutting off that line of inquiry. “Only a King, or the agreement between the High Marshal and a Regent, can overturn a previous King’s ruling. Jarvan III welcomed Shyvana into the kingdom and I shall respect his decision. Now, everyone other than Shyvana, please be seated. We’re not done here yet.” Eldred huffed with anger as he returned to his seat. General Meere nodded and Jarvan gave her a small smile, that sorrow gone from his face, replaced with worry that furrowed his brows. Shyvana clawed at her hands again. Why is he still worried? Senna’s expression was blank, but she did look at Shyvana one more time before sitting.

“There is still the matter of what is to be done with you. Do you wish to return to your post?” 

Shyvana straightened her shoulders. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Very well. You will return to the Dragonguard, but I propose that you shall be stripped of your position within Jarvan’s personal guard.” Tianna’s stern expression turned into a notable frown. Shyvana’s keen hearing heard an intake of breath, Jarvan getting ready to speak, but Tianna continued. “I ask that the Prince-Regent agree with me, if only temporarily, as it is known that magical trespasses on one’s mind can have lasting effects. Let us see if she can handle stress again before re-entrusting her with such an important position.” 

General Meere cut in. “I request that the High Marshal and Prince-Regent consider this a permanent change. We would begin training her for leadership in our regiments immediately, and that would also allow her the support needed to overcome the lasting effects of the Ruined King’s control.”

The worry was gone from Jarvan’s face and Shyvana realized he looked the most optimistic he had seen him since the Ruination, and she could imagine the most optimistic he had seemed in months, though she had only the chance to trade one letter with him after the King’s death. “My apologies, General Meere. I’ll agree to the High Marshal’s proposed temporary removal, as that will allow the Knight to make her own decision on the matter in the future, but I also highly respect her work as a member of my personal guard. Let her decide where she wants to work herself later.”

General Meere nodded and sat down without a fuss.  

And that was that. Suddenly, people were leaving the room in droves, Tianna curtly finishing the trial before she was the first to climb the stairs and exit. Head Adept Eldred and the other senior Adepts he had brought followed her, forcing their way up the stairs and through the already shifting crowd, anger at their loss clear on their faces. Again, a Mageseeker spat at Shyvana today, missing her as he passed to exit the front row. 

The Dragonguard were some of the last to leave, many of them coming up to congratulate her before they climbed the steps. Shyvana knew she replied, but she couldn’t really say how, just assumed that she had appeared excited and thankful to be returning to her work soon. For minutes, it felt like everything was coming through fog, the haze of a dream. A month of tension and stress had been released and even though she counted herself amongst the most resilient of soldiers, she felt ready to sway on her feet. 

She came back to herself when Jarvan stood beside her. One of his hands rested on her shoulder, improperly close as his calloused thumb rubbed a circle into the hollow above her collar bone. Shyvana’s body rippled with both anger and longing. 

“I’m so sorry you’ve gone through all of this, Ana.” His eyes met hers but the slump of his shoulders betrayed a weariness in him. 

Shyvana didn’t care. “You do realize you caused this, right?” She didn’t explain anymore, couldn’t explain anymore because he was an idiot if he couldn’t see the consequences of his own actions. Jarvan was the one to set the mageseekers loose after his father’s death and he was running out of time to fall back on his persona as a foolish prince as an excuse for his mistakes. 

He flinched and dropped his hand. Both curled into fists at his sides as he straightened his back. “Yes, but we’ll discuss that later. First,” he turned back to General Meere, who had been waiting behind him. Most of the Dragonguard had left, along with most of the Dauntless Vanguard members that had been welcomed into the courtroom (Shyvana assumed that had been insurance, in case she lashed out like Eldred expected her to). There was only the General, Garen and the two Dauntless members that had escorted her with him, and Senna and the Sentinels she had with her. Shyvana quickly recognized the man who had helped defeat her, but there was a quiet woman that leaked discomfort and of attempting to diminish her presence, and another with bright blue hair, a complicated dress, and a presence that wasn’t truly human behind him. 

“General Meere, would you be willing to give Shyvana a vacation for at least a week? There’s some matters I would like to discuss with her and the Sentinels would also like a chance to meet with her.” 

Meere always gave Shyvana the impression that he was at least two-steps ahead of those around him. It was in the slant of his grin that wasn’t unfriendly, but instead oddly contemplative. His eyes would define what his expressions meant, and they squinted with mirth at the moment. “Of course, I was going to suggest such a break myself, but now I assume my willingness to off my own estate here in the Demacia City is unneeded?”

“No need, General, I’ll take care of her needs.”

The General nodded and then stepped towards Shyvana, his hand reached out in front of him. She quickly shook it, but the General held onto her grasp instead of letting go. “Glad to have you back.” His eyes were warm on her, but hardened for a second when they flashed to Jarvan before reconnecting with hers. “You have the full support of the Dragonguard behind you, Shyvana. We’re going to be looking out for our own in the days to come and my decisions won’t waver from those ideals.”

General Meere then left, not further acknowledging Jarvan. 

Oh, I really am still in the middle of this mess. 

Jarvan’s expression was blank for a moment before it shifted to a fake smile. He turned to face Senna and the others, a hand lightly resting on Shyvana’s arm to command her attention. “Shyvana, these are the Sentinels of Light: as you heard, Senna is their leader; this is her husband, Lucian; another Sentinel, Gwen; and finally, another Sentinel, Rhodenia.”  

Shyvana nodded at them. “Well met.” 

Senna nodded back and smiled wide. “Good to see you up on your feet and looking like yourself.” 

Lucian cut in and Shyvana instantly realized that he shared the same wry sense of humour Shyvana had seen from Senna in the trial. “We might have not had the best for first meetings, but you certainly make a large impression. It’s not often an opponent actually requires Senna and I to be that in sync.”

This was banter Shyvana could match. “What can I say, I’ll never go down without a fight.” 

The whole group of Sentinels were still smiling as they left. Senna got promises from Jarvan that he’d arrange more meetings for all of them. She explained to Shyvana that they needed to ask her about her experience underneath Viego’s magic, if she could stand to answer questions on the topic, for their own records, just in case the Ruined King managed to escape the prison they had looked him away in. Senna also mentioned to Jarvan that she wanted to go over what they knew about the current state of the Harrowing, as that was a problem that still existed. And then they too were walking up the steps. 

It was just Shyvana, Jarvan, Garen, and the guards now. Garen had the sour look on his face that he always got when stuck in a room with Shyvana. Jarvan ignored the tension growing in the room with the grace of a man used to being caught between two people he loved. “Now, let’s go get you set up in one of the guest rooms. And would you be willing to join me for supper tonight?” 

There was a pitiful, desperate hope in Jarvan’s eyes, and Shyvana would have hated the look on anyone else, but part of her preened with pleasure to have Jarvan direct that look at her. She knew that still, even with multiple arranged matches that had inevitably fallen through the cracks, she was the only one who got such a look from him. “Fine.”

Chapter Text

They had met for supper, the night after the trial, just the two of them in Jarvan’s apartments in the east wing of the castle. There were times Jarvan tried to start meaningful conversation, but the day had caught up with Shyvana, energy crashing as her stress washed away with food and wine. She’d been curt and tired, drowsy by the end, and so they really had talked about nothing at all.

She had needled him though. Another parting glance about how the Mageseekers were given too much power and again Jarvan had flinched from his own shame. 

“Vacation” had been a generous term when given to her stay in the capital. The next day had been spent collecting her armour from the Mageseekers’ dungeons (she had grinned the whole time at how hateful they looked at her), sending off some pieces to get repaired, putting in an order for a new set of greaves. The day after was a first round of questioning with the Sentinels that left Shyvana raw and pissed off. Jarvan had knocked on her door for possibly another supper and had quickly left once he’d realized she didn’t have an ounce of social grace left in her body. Her resounding “no” had come out a half-snarl.

He did send for her favourite kind of wine and a meat pie with imported Shuriman peppers that she loved for the burn they left on her tongue. Shyvana felt a little better about everything as she slipped into bed that night. 

A formal supper invitation came with breakfast the next day, along with a new metal file for her nails; the guards hadn’t allowed her one when she was awaiting her trial since it could possibly be used as a weapon. She immediately set out to blunt her talons while she nibbled at her food. Her body was malleable enough that if she needed them sharp, she could force them to grow again in seconds. However, most everyday items weren’t designed for sharp talons. Even if she didn’t have her full armour set right now, Lieutenant Jerik had brought up the worn leathers and simple tunics and breeches she preferred for her off-work attire and she hated whenever she accidentally scored them with her own hands. 

She knew that everything from Jarvan right now was an expression of how he was sorry. He loved to give things. One of the other guards had called the gifts her husband (a baker back in Wrenwall) gave her a “love language.” Shyvana thought about that sentiment often, and also tried not to think about it often, because it made her realize that everything in her life was surrounded by the idea of fighting and she was not sure that was a good thing. Because that was her love language, wasn’t it? Always been willing to fight for someone or something. She just hadn’t been strong enough yet when Yvva had killed Father; she would have fought if she could have. 

And it had been so simple to turn and stand against Yvva when finally given the chance. Was killing her mother an act of love too? What kind of existence was it to spend your whole life chasing down the daughter you hated? The two of them at least had their resolution now. 

The current problem was that Jarvan and her did not.

The invitation had warned her, so instead of being annoyed by Garen’s presence when she entered Jarvan’s apartments that evening, she had smiled wide with a little too much teeth, knowing that her ease would bother him more. They all sat and quickly ate; the fact that Jarvan had ordered a sparse soldier’s meal told Shyvana that they weren’t here to waste time. 

Garen went speak and Shyvana cut him off. “You’re not seriously going to make me politically involved.”

Repproach was plain in the Captain’s voice. “You’re not seriously lacking in awareness to the point where you don’t realize you’re already involved.”

“I mean you two are considering making me more involved.” She shot a glare at Jarvan. “I thought the point of sending me away was to avoid this because it wasn’t worth the risk to the kingdom.” 

A part of Shyvana immediately regretted her words as she watched Jarvan age a decade in five seconds, his whole body slumping in his seat as he propped his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. But she had been so angry to leave him over a year ago, and apparently was still angry, was ready to be enraged after everything she had faced in the last month and a bit. A silence stretched across the table. 

Then Jarvan looked up from his hands, a grim expression set into his face. “I’m sorry we’re pulling you deeper into this mess, but there’s a lot to consider now, especially since General Meere’s ready to possibly divide our military into three factions truly fighting each other.” 

Shyvana scratched at the table, her now blunt nails thankfully not ripping anything. “You were thinking about this before he showed his hand though.”

“Yes.” Jarvan straightened his posture. “I’ve made a horrible mistake in giving the Mageseekers too much power and not only because they’re disrupting the work of the other military factions. Even the Illuminators are getting ready to draw political battle lines because of how the Mageseekers are posturing. The recent Harrowing’s weakened every line of our defence, Sylas continues to dog our defences along the border with the Freljord, and only the Protector knows when Noxus is going to make a move. 

“Mistakes, Ana, I keep making mistakes and now it seems we’re on the brink on some sort of reckoning no matter what I do.” Jarvan reached out and stopped Shyvana’s hand from picking at the table cloth, deftly weaving their fingers together. “With my father gone, the only two people I’ve ever truly let knock some sense to me are in this room. I need the both of you to help me not fuck up this kingdom before I even get the throne. I need you to tell me when I’m being stupid and bigoted because I’ve certainly lost sight of that clarity I had when I was helpless in the forest and you found me.”

That was all the permission Shyvana needed. “You told me I would have a home here and yet you’ve only made it worse. They would have had me in those dungeons regardless of the Harrowing and the Ruined King.” She shuddered at the thought. “It might have been worse if they had gotten me in those dungeons underneath their own power. And even then, that bitch head of House Vayne almost killed me; Senna told me she had to stay Vayne’s hand. That’s what Demacia’s like right now.”

She turned to Garen. “And even if not overtly malicious, idiots like your are the problem too.” Garen balked and for the first time the man directed an expression of regret at Shyvana, but she didn’t care for his worthless emotions. “You act like you’re better than me because what? We were born differently? What if you had the violet skin and the yellow eyes? Do you treat the minotaurs underneath your command like you treat me? You’re ridiculous strong too, from what I hear your strength is legendary, what’s stopping the Mageseekers from turning this all around and saying you’ve got some sort of affliction too?”

The scorn was even in her voice, but the last line of questioning seemed to hit Garen the hardest as he looked away from her completely, staring off and out one of the large windows in Jarvan’s apartment which was closed so their voices would not carry. 

Again, there was an uneasy silence. Despite her anger, Shyvana didn’t let go of Jarvan’s hand; he was still leaning towards her. 

Finally, the Prince spoke: “Okay. Okay, you’re right, on everything. So now, we need your help to fix things and to figure out who will be willing to help us. Garen is convinced he can certainly convince the First Shield, if not multiple Shields within the Dauntless Vanguard. The Dragonguard is already behind you.” 

Jarvan paused and looked at Garen, but the other man was still looking at neither of them. Jarvan continued. “Shyvana, you are aware of the Illuminators, yes?”

“And the open secret of their services?”

The open secret of Demacia was that Illuminators would help mages without revealing them, without subjecting them to unwanted work (but many chose to join them willingly) or petricite like the Mageseekers would. It was why their numbers were rife with nobles, sympathetic or afflicted alike. They weren’t technically military, but they had fighters all the same. They were the ones who dealt with normal Harrowings, after all. 

Jarvan nodded at her. “They’re always been at odds with the Mageseekers in the background. To be frank, a part of me I think will always wonder what would have happened to our nation if they had found Sylas first. My father might still be alive.” 

Garen finally rejoined them. “There’s no point in wasting thoughts on that.”

”You’re right. We need to convince the Illuminators to trust us, but even the Radiants keep secrets amongst themselves, for safety. We can’t even begin to gauge what kind of power their support would garner, political or otherwise. Garen’s sister Luxanna is a Radiant. She could start spreading the word if I chose to begin supporting mages in Demacia.” 

Shyvana couldn’t help it; she crushed Jarvan’s hand in her grip and refused to let go when he tried to pull away. “If?”

He frowned. “Sorry, when. It’s… habit. A mix of habit and my anger at Sylas, both of which I know I need to work on. That I need to do and together we need to begin unseating the power the Mageseekers currently have.”

“Could you not just decree that you remove the additional power you gave them after your father’s death? You don’t need the Marshal’s approval for that, correct? Since it was you who issued that order anyways.”

Garen spoke up again. “You’re right, but this is where it gets tricky, and why even though I think you’re rash and unsuitable for politics—you do a good job dressing people down like you just did to us, but it took me five seconds when you first came here that you can’t lie—we do need you around to make statements. Especially now if General Meere will give us his support if you approve of our actions. The second Jarvan repeals the temporary powers he gave the Mageseekers, my uncle certainly will call for a lack of faith in the prince and try and change the line of succession.” 

Shyvana released Jarvan’s hand and went back to picking at her roasted chicken. “And it would go to?”

Jarvan straightened in his chair. “It should be my cousin, Landon Hardshield, a distant relation on my father’s side, but the Spiritmights have always been involved in the actual logistics of the kingdom, which is why my mother was an approved match for my father. They could possibly push for the throne to go to my Aunt Althea, since she oversaw what is considered the Queen’s work after my mother had passed.”

Shyvana narrowed her eyes. “What is the ‘but’ you haven’t hit yet?”

“There’s no reason for Eldred to support either family to take the throne, and us Lightshields ourselves set the precedence of a Crownguard family ascending to the throne after a ruling house has been ousted.” Jarvan’s eyes flicked towards Garen. “It would be you and he would assume to use you as a puppet.”

It was the first time Shyvana ever saw Garen look helpless and for a moment she was confused. She ran her tongue over her teeth and thought. “…He has something on you already. A string to pull.”

Garen’s expression shifted; he met Jarvan’s gaze and glared at the Prince-Regent. Jarvan stared back with a blank expression. Finally, Garen came to whatever decision he had been contemplating. “My sister is a mage; the one who’s magic Sylas stole to use to escape. They’d get my compliance by not exposing her.” 

A growl rose in Shyvana’s throat. “This really all is a fine mess because of this kingdom’s fucking stupid prejudice. Let’s get to the point, what role do I play in all of this when I don’t matter, not like the lot of you fine nobles do.”

Jarvan sighed. “Garen, I’ll speak to her about the rest alone.” 

The Sword-Captain practically fled the room and it made Shyvana all the more anxious. 

Jarvan had lent her to the Dragonguard over a year ago, after the king had made comments about how much time Jarvan had been spending with her. Jarvan had told her his father wasn’t being malicious, but that that had been a warning to Jarvan that other noble families were getting ready to be. She had gone from training to watch his back everyday (and from stealing his personal time when she could) to only hearing from him in letters. He got out of his chair and pulled Shyvana out of her own, hugging her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

It was the most they had touched in months and Shyvana found herself instantly caving in and hugging him back. 

He mumbled into his neck. “You’re going to hate this idea.” 

“No one gets to tell me what I’ll feel, even if you think you can guess at those feelings.” 

He pulled back from her but didn’t let go. Shyvana was shocked to see his eyes watering, but there was a small smile on his lips. “Did Senna explain to you what they know about Viego’s strategy?”

She allowed the change in topic. “Overtaking key figures in the area, which doesn’t quite make sense for me, but I figured my might was reason enough.” 

He gave a strained chuckle. “ Aye, you’re the strongest of us all here, there’s no doubt about that. But, that wasn’t just it. He was tricky enough to understand that sometimes you don’t have to directly attack key leaders in an area. The Protector knows I would have never been able to meet you on the battlefield myself. You’re not weak, Shyvana. You never are and never will be, but you are my weak point. I think that’s why Father had me send you away, too.”

Jarvan frowned. “He was a far better ruler than I’ll ever be, but I think that’s one mistake he made near the end. You challenge me to be better.” 

“Someone needs to.”

“Yes, someone does. And that person needs the power to do so too.” Shyvana could feel the tension locked within the whole of his body as he spoke. “Eldred Crownguard wants a political mess and the power vacuum that will follow, so we’ll give him one, but one that ends up with him buried and others put out on top.” 

He looked her dead in the eyes. “I’ll peel back the powers granted to the Mageseekers; I’ll admit my mistake to the whole of the kingdom and state that I wish to start my rule by moving Demacia as a whole into a better direction and that no Demacian, born or welcomed into our nation otherwise, should feel like their own people would betray them. I’ll lift the persecution of mages. My father… wanted to do the same, right before he died, and I’m a blasted idiot who burned that decree before it could see the light of day. My grief has cost the kingdom already and I'm a horribly selfish man as I’ve only realized that because it also almost cost me you.” 

Shyvana felt ready to cry herself. “Again, with your missing buts.”

“Not a but, more so a however. However, I can say all of this and it won’t mean anything unless I make an immediate statement with my own actions. You’re the strongest out of all of us in body and spirit, Ana. You’ve stayed and fought even though the kingdom would not yet fight for you. And that’s the ‘yet’ because I think we could make them do so.”

Jarvan’s face was so close to hers and stern, his countenance began to exude conviction. “Courting you officially would show that I’m serious about changing this kingdom. As queen, you would have the power to dress me down and stop me from making mistakes. I love you, Ana, and though it pains me, that love means I have no choice but to ask you to take on this responsibility or let you go because no matter what I’m going to hold to the promise I gave you when we first met. I’ll always make sure you have a home in Demacia.”

Shyvana didn’t know what to think. Jarvan kept staring at her, unwavering. She breathed deeply, some sort of emotion beginning to bubble in her chest. 

Breathe in, out, in, out. 

Finally, Jarvan began to frown and Shyvana realized the emotion was both vindication and rage. Yes, he was hers, and despite his words Shyvana knew he would always be hers, even if he stated otherwise. But also, how dare he be so helpless that he needs her assistance to even begin keeping the promise he had once gave her?

Ghosts of smells of a forest, of blood and sick-sweat, rose in her memory. The ghosts of fire and burnt flesh, Yvva’s roar ringing throughout the air. 

Her anger reigned but a part of her recognized why they were kindred spirits in the first place. How they had found each other (or more accurately, how she had found him) not strong, but both weak and helpless in their own ways. How they had made each other strong.

She forced her anger down and allowed elation to rise. “I’d get to tell people to fuck off?”

Jarvan laughed. “I’ll teach you how to tell people to fuck off eloquently.”

Shyvana grinned so wide it was a snarl, her sharp teeth on full display. “I’m still pissed off at you, but at least this is a plan.”

“I’ll leave you to go beat up a training dummy for a bit in the lists then?” He was grinning like a fool, but Shyvana could feel how he was suddenly shaking with released anxiety. She reached forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, even if not yet officially, he was hers to take now. 

“Yes. Don’t do anything stupid before I calm down.”

He laughed again. “I’ll try my best, my dear.”

Chapter Text

Jarvan got permission from General Meere to keep her away from her post longer. Shyvana was given a few days to herself, to think everything over. She spent those days training with the antsy First Shield. They wanted to return to the borders, but Garen’s political responsibilities as a Crownguard were keeping them in Demacia City. 

Four days after the tense meeting with Javan and Garen, Shyvana found herself in another one, this time in the Prince-Regent’s official office. Jarvan and Garen were present, along with the Seneschal Xin Zhao, but there were also two women Shyvana didn’t recognize.

Jarvan helped her settle into her seat at the small round table before sitting himself. “Shyvana, let me introduce my aunt Lady Althea Spiritmight, and the Radiant Lady Lestara Buvelle. Luxanna recommended Lady Buvelle to help with our preparations and her late husband Barrett Buvelle was one of my father’s finest councilors and generals.” 

Shyvana nodded greetings to the two of them, not sure what to say.

She found herself instantly fond of Lestara as the woman wasted no time. “I don’t mean to offend, but are you sure you can do this? My daughter’s right to come home is riding on you.”

Shyvana met her question with a sharp grin. “I spent my whole childhood running and Demacia is where I finally stopped. I don’t plan on living a life like that again. I choose here.”

Lestara nodded. Althea huffed and smirked. Lady Spiritmight inclined her head towards Jarvan. “Steel in her bones. She will do.” She then turned to Shyvana. “Though you may hate me by the end, it will be my job to stamp propriety into your brain.” She finished with a wicked grin to match Shyvana’s. “I will reforge you into a queen.” 

Shyvana considered herself someone who handled pressure well, could learn under pressure. Her father had taught her to read and write while they were constantly on the run; surely she could learn to act like a queen. 

But this meeting was instantly dizzying. Lady Althea handed her a list. “We will start covering the basics of all of these lessons in the months to come.” And Shyvana had barely had a moment to glance at it before Althea and Jarvan were quickly into a discussion, listing off names and potential allegiances while Garen, Xin Zhao, and Lestara added in their own thoughts and knowledge in-between. 

Thankfully, Jarvan noticed her souring expression within minutes and switched his dialogue to include explanations of who each person was. The others followed suit. Shyvana thought she would barely remember anyone new after this meeting, but she at least felt she could keep a general understanding of how large each faction was based on their support from various noble families.

Finally, a name she now too-well came up. Jarvan’s voice was coloured with scorn. “We also need to consider that my decree will drag Shauna Vayne back into politics.”

Shyvana grinned. “We could just give her another go at me and see who walks away alive.” 

Lady Althea tutted. “You don’t know the rules of dueling, do you?”

Shyvana didn’t speak, but shot Althea a look that was answer enough. 

Garen snorted. “I doubt Lady Vayne does either. She’s only the head of their house on technicalities. Matthew Vayne, her uncle, is a distant relation of mine. My aunt’s constantly fielding his complaints about Shauna as a head of house, but she does the bare minimum to keep the title.” 

“The bare minimum?” Shyvana inquired.

Jarvan shuffled papers in front of himself. “Yes, I’ve got the accounts here. Ironically, the bare minimum is her consistently donating to both the Illuminators and the Mageseekers. She hasn’t bothered to actually oversee the rest of her estates for years though.” He grinned and glanced at his aunt. “Which is a shame, isn’t it, Aunt Althea?”

Althea smirked in kind. “Yes. No offence to the High Marshal but really, I know court gossip is not her main concern in life. I have poked around and gotten proof that the steward Vayne has hired to cover her estate while she travels is misspending the family funds even if he is properly donating to various institutions. I’ve known Matthew for years. He is an opportunist himself, but only even within the confines of the law. Once he knows we have the High Marshal’s support on this decision and that we will be instating him as the new head of House Vayne, you will assuredly have his support for years to come.”

Shyvana shook her head. “Wait, the Marshal supports this already?”

Every head at the table turned to look at Garen, who’s expression was briefly sheepish before evening out to the stern expression Shyvana was now sure he had learned from Tianna. Though Tianna’s was certainly the more intimidating. “She’s very adamant that we don’t be the generations of Crownguards leading Demacia in a civil war. General Meere’s show of support for you was enough to sway her into believing that the military is about five steps away from splitting itself in half.”

Lestara cut in. “And if she’s not mentioned it, she is well aware that the late King was quite liberal.” Lady Buvelle gave off a quiet demeanor, but every time she had spoken so far tonight had been with confidence, strength, and a slight challenge behind her words. Shyvana thought that maybe Lestara would be someone who could truly understand her frustration with everything in Demacian society, even if it was her daughter that was the mage and not herself. “She knows that Jarvan III would have approved of his son’s proposal.”

Shyvana snorted. “Not of me though.” 

Jarvan sighed. Lady Althea leaned forward, resting her chin on folded hands, her elbows propped up on the table as she stared intently at Shyvana. Althea hummed before speaking. “Not as disapproving as you would think though. We fought about it after every attempted arrangement for Jarvan fell through. He has messed up five , you know.” 

Jarvan choked beside her and Althea laughed. “I must admit, the last one was not his fault. That lies with Miss Luxanna. Jarvan wanted what was best for his son and thought it had to be a woman born a lady because she would have had the right upbringing. There is quite a bit to teach you now but I do think you will be able to handle most of it.” She leaned back in her seat, expression contemplative. “And the rest? Well, you do not need to be a proper lady. Or more accurately, we can not afford you to be proper. We are talking about changing what people believe to be foundational laws of our kingdom.” Her expression shifted slowly into that smirk Shyvana was beginning to associate with Althea. “To be quite frank, we need a queen who won’t give a shit and will say she will forge a new age.

“This is all many pieces now falling into place, ones our late Jarvan could not have even began to foresee. Luxanna’s been digging around her family’s library, since she has realized how helpful books can be for one such as herself, especially when the library is as old and as atrociously unorganized as the Crownguard library. Neither you or Jarvan will need to know every detail, but the two of you will also need to meet with her to go over the old texts she has discovered about the Protectors.”

Both Lestara and Xin Zhao matched Shyvana’s look of surprise. It was Lestara who spoke. “Protectors? Plural?”

“Yes, I am sure people are going to be livid with Luxanna’s proof that we need to start elevating the Veiled Lady within society, but well, even our courtroom is proof enough that she was our other founder.” 

Everyone now looked confused, other than Althea who obviously enjoyed this game of baiting them all. Realization came to Shyvana in a flash. “The chains and wings the accused stands within.”

“Exactly. Kayle is Justice; her sister Morgana is Redemption even if she is associated with revenge in modernity. While Kayle was the warrior, Morgana was known to use magic to protect others and to offer anyone who sought one a second chance. Miss Crownguard has given us enough historical precedence that the Prince-Regent and the High Marshal can overturn the total prosecution of mages, but we are going to have to slowly remove constraints. There are going to have to be retrials and new laws crafted, which is why we are going to focus heavily on your understanding of the legal system. You will need to be arguing for restrictions and laws that will not slowly suffocate mages within our society in other ways.”

Shyvana felt the beginning of a headache coming on. “Such as?”

Jarvan cut in. “Well, I’m certain some nobles are going to push that mages can only use magic in service of the Crown, which is to say, their own families since the nobility is the backbone of military leadership and other social organizations.” He glanced at Lestara. “Say if someone is gifted at healing or easing the mind, they should not be forced into joining the Illuminators just to be able to help those around them.” 

That made sense to Shyvana; that felt like common sense to Shyvana. Her headache grew. “Okay, you were right. I’m going to hate this.”

Althea had the gall to laugh. “Yes, you will certainly do. My own sister would come to my room and spend hours raging about the stupidity of politics. Your will hate it, but you will find you love it when you actually get to help others.” 

Shyvana rubbed at her temples, but smiled. “Aye, you might be right with that.”

Later that night, Shyvana couldn’t sleep. She sat out on the balcony attached to the apartment Jarvan was lending her, unbraided hair shifting in the night’s breeze. 

The sky was clear and her eyes traced constellations, hearing the ghost of her father’s voice ringing in her head. He had been gone so long she didn’t know if it was his voice or only what she thought he was supposed to sound like, but it was comforting to think about all the same. “The sword—they say it points down towards the city of High Silvermere, where the Protector first began fostering their Judicators to enact Justice. The shield—people argue extensively if it should be depicted as a true round shield or one with sharp edges within art of it.” She knew she was always right at the mirth in his voice as he would explain the next. “The dragon—one of the largest constellations, for dragons are beings of power. Some even believe the greatest of them breath life into the universe.” 

Shyvana only ever breathed fire. She was fine with that; it worked for her. She shifted to lay down on the cushioned bench to better stare up at the stars. She wiggled. It was ridiculously plush for her tastes. 

She was still staring up at the stars when there was a knock at her door minutes later. 

She got up to answer it. Behind the door was Jarvan, the most relaxed Shyvana had seen him in months, his own hair loose and a little unkempt and in comfortable clothes that obviously weren’t meant to be seen outside of his own personal rooms. Shyvana gave a small smile. “Come in, I was sitting outside.” 

He smiled in return. “I saw the light from my own balcony.” Jarvan’s rooms were up and to the left of the rooms he had lent Shyvana. 

They sat down on the bench. Jarvan brushed strands of hair back behind one of her pointed ears. “You haven’t had horns since…” 

She sighed, but he was right; she had been hiding them away since the Ruination and everything that followed. It took one moment of thought, a flicker of fire, and small horns crested the sides of her head. Not as large as the ones she preferred to fill out her helmet, where she was in that in-between state that left her ready to fight, teetering between human- and dragon-form. 

These ones were the right size to frame her head as well as any crown would. 

Jarvan leaned over, kissing her where her horn was based within her skull. Shyvana smiled and leaned into him. Then, her expression shifted into one more contemplative. “I feel like I should stay angry at you longer.”

“You could, if you wanted to. I’ve still so much work to do to make everything up to you.” 

She grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers together, taloned thumb rubbing lightly across his hand. “I’ll be angry again later, maybe. I think I can have a little break from anger for a bit.” 

“Get it in while you can.” He was joking, but Shyvana could hear the weary edge to his voice. 

Anger had always been her greatest companion because to be angry felt safer than to acknowledge how she had always spent part of her life worried. First, worried about her mother; now, worried about if this place truly would be a home. 

Shyvana allowed herself a moment of weakness that had been years coming. Her voice shook. “I do want to stay; I don’t want to have to leave.”

“I know that this is not an easy home for you, even I can admit that despite how much I hate them, the Noxians would never question who you are, would let you be as you are. And it’s cruel of me to ask that you help me make my own kingdom better so that you and others can safely stay.” He shifted them, gently holding Shyvana’s chin so that he could tilt her head towards him. He looked into her eyes. “But my aunt’s right. You are the one person who can help me do this. You are the one who would be able to tear down everything wrong in this kingdom. While I was preparing for your trial Garen proposed we returned to the idea of Luxanna becoming queen. He knew she’d never have my heart, but he thinks she could bring about change.”

He paused, looking to the side for a moment before he brought his gaze back to her own. “Maybe she could, but not as well as you could. She’s only just now learning to fight for herself, whether physically or politically. We don’t have time to wait for her to mature into a leader.”

Shyvana snorted. “I don’t think I’m a leader either.”

Jarvan sighed but his expression of slight exasperation told Shyvana it was done with humour. “The High Marshal wasn’t lying when she said the only thing holding General Meere back from promoting you was your position as my personal sworn shield. You have got the whole Dragonguard following you and you don’t even realize it. 

“You are ready to burn Demacia down to its metaphorical foundations and build it up better. The Protector cleanses with fire and so shall you. You are going to be the greatest queen in our history, I’ll say it now.”

Shyvana smirked, preening inside at the idea of power and pride, how it was her power that mattered. Her lineage was not like Jarvan’s, meant to rule humans, hers was meant to rule nature but for him she would settle. “And if I’m the greatest queen, what does that make you?”

“The trophy husband, of course.” 

Shyvana laughed, the hardest she had laughed in months. Something in her untwisted. Jarvan was an idiot, a ginormous idiot at times, and though she wouldn’t forget, she was realizing that she could find it in her heart to forgive. She would hold him accountable for his mistakes, and now he would give her the power not only to do that, but to stop them before they happened and to destroy the ideals that had fostered those mistakes in the first place. 

For now though, she instead took him by surprise, pulling the Prince into herself, making him straddle her hips as she kissed him deeply. She was beaming when they pulled apart. “Not just a trophy husband. You’ll have to do your fair share of work too.” 

“Aye, my love, that I’ll do.” 

Chapter Text

Radiant Lady Luxanna Crownguard knocked on a door. An initiate to the Illuminators stood behind her, carrying a jeweled box, one that was ornate and should have been heavy if it wasn’t for the magic the initiate was using to make it lighter. 

A maid opened the door and Lux nodded her thanks as her and her coworker entered. She could instantly hear a woman grumbling about “how do corsets manage to be tighter that the buckles of my armour, damn it?” and she instantly found a smile coming to her face. There was something oddly delightful and amusing in hearing Shyvana’s daily wonderings at her new life.

Lux had been formally introduced to Shyvana three months ago, when she was brought deeper into the folds of Lady Althea’s planning. Deeper being defined as becoming directly involved with coronation planning; Lux had already long been working on poking through the old family library for anything useful to lawfully repeal the persecution of mages. Personally, she thought much of this whole royal upheaval stemmed from Lady Althea now, even if Jarvan and Garen had technically been the two to get everything set in motion, but her opinion may have been biased since Althea was the one capable of planning both a coronation and helping to draft new laws at the same time.

Althea was here now, staring intently at Shyvana and the two seamstresses fluttering around her. It was a final fitting for the dress, the coronation it was intended for now two days out. It was a dress of Demacian gold and striking whites, both snowy and silvery. The bottom skirt was a light red-brown that peeked through layers of gold and white that interchanged from matte to sheer fabric, allowing small glimpses of the under-skirt’s colour. Lux guessed the light red was a nod to the Dragonguard, though the future Queen couldn’t show too much favour to them at the moment. 

The Illuminators and the Vanguard would be smart enough to know it was to recognize the history of Shyvana’s service, not an act of favouritism, but the Mageseekers were looking for any reason to complain about unfair treatment as they found their political influence continue to wane, so there couldn’t be too many references to the Dragonguard in Shyvana’s attire. There was still that same light red used to embroider the trim of the bodice. 

Lux would have to wait for them to finish to show off what she had brought along.

One of the seamstresses looked up at Althea. “That’s the last of it, my lady. Other than checking the armour pieces.” 

“Help her into them then.”

Lux had to force herself not to giggle at how Shyvana had instantly perked at the mention of the amour. It was only decorative armour, but Lux could guess that the half-dragon was still excited to see herself in those new pieces as her smile grew as the seamstresses helped place them over the delicate dress. There was both a set of thin bracers and pauldrons; they were not meant to stop any physical blows, but were crafted to look like the Wings of the Protector that defined Demacian symbolism, silver and gold like the armour of the Vanguard. 

Shyvana was never not confident, but she finally looked at ease in the outfit after the last bracer was put into place. She looked herself up and down with a toothy grin. “It’s wonderful.”

Lux finally found her spot to cut in. “And I’ve got something wonderful too!”

All eyes turned to her before they then all shifted to land on the box the initiate carried. One of the seamstresses moved to clear a space on a work table in this fitting room for the box, and the young man set it down and placed his hand on its cover, thinking a moment before turning to Lux. “Would you like to be the one to open the lid?” 

The seamstress who had cleared the table furrowed her eyebrows. “No lock?”

Shyvana’s tone was dry. “Magic.” The first good conversation (which is to say, the first not ridiculously awkward conversation) Lux had with Shyvana had been the older woman explaining to her that she could smell magic. She had then joked to Lux about how she could quite frankly smell a lot of things the average human wouldn’t consider and had tricked Lux into having a conversation about human limitations instead of about house lineages like Lux was supposed to be helping her memorize that night. It had annoyed Lux to not get the work they were supposed to do done but she had been thankful to feel like she had finally begun to understand Shyvana as a possible friend.

There was a moment where Lux worried and one could feel the tension in the room but the seamstress only nodded, accepting the display of magic in front of her without a fuss. 

Lux stepped forward, blocking Shyvana’s sightline. The woman gave a grumbled growl from the base of her throat that Lux knew was akin to an older sibling showing exasperation to a younger’s antics. Lux smirked as she carefully grabbed the new ceremonially dagger and shield that had been crafted for swearing Shyvana in as queen. 

She waited a moment before turning around. “And here we go! All ready for the coronation.” 

Lux held the dagger by the handle, but during the coronation, as Shyvana recited oaths in front of the crowd in the Hall of Valor, she would hold it be the dulled blade after nicking her hand on its sharp tip. In her other hand, she showed off the new shield, though it was actually an orb. The reasons for it being call the shield had been long debated and Lux was now regarded as an “intervening academic” (or at least that was the kindest term that had so far been sent to her) for her finding proof that the two Protectors had used magic shields, hence the orb shape instead of a shield face as the royal symbol of power. 

Jarvan would be sworn in on the traditional set, the shining gold Dagger of Justice and the Lightshield that his great-grandfather had chosen their family name from after ascending the throne as the previous Crownguards. This new set would swear in Shyvana - the Dagger of Redemption and the Darkshield. Where the gold set was just a solid gold orb and a gold handle on an old iron blade, the new was made to be a sister-set but not a true twin-set. The Darkshield was not smooth, but its surface was instead inset with various precious and semi-precious black and purple gemstones. The Dagger of Redemption was completely made of steel, its handle also inset with purple and black gemstones. 

Shyvana’s eyes were glued to them. Lux watched her hands flex at her sides. 

Lady Althea must have noticed too. Althea smirked. “You can’t hold them until the ceremony.” 

“This is mean, showing a soldier a new dagger but not letting her test it out.” 

Lux laughed. “It’s not for fighting anyways. We have to put them into the royal storerooms for safekeeping once you two are sworn in for your kids to be able to use.” 

The mention of kids brought a blush to the half-dragon’s face; it was about the only thing that Lux had found so far that could put such an expression on Shyvana’s face. Lux laughed and Shyvana scowled at her. 

Lux left soon after, the dagger and shield locked back away in their new magically sealed box. The box had been Lux’s idea. 

This was all a promise after all. The new dagger and shield would only ever be unsealed by a mage. And if a future ruler didn’t have a mage around to unseal it? Well, they weren’t doing a very good job to uphold the legacy Shyvana and Jarvan were trying to create. 

A month and a bit after the coronation, Lux found herself wandering the castle halls. She stopped in front of the new royal portraits that had just gone up days prior. Lady Althea had insisted that Jarvan and Shyvana immediately got one done each. 

Lux stared up at Shyvana’s. She had been stuck back into her coronation outfit, the Dagger of Redemption back in her bloody hand, though Lux doubted that she had to actually recut herself for the portrait session, and the Darkshield in the other, her dark talons looking at home amongst the dark jewels. 

But what Lux focused on was Shyvana’s face. Her crown rested on her head, sculpted so that it complimented the small horns branching out from her skull that managed to look more impressive than the jewelry she wore. Shyvana’s expression wasn’t dully stern like Jarvan’s was. Instead, she was grinning, her large canines and other slightly-too-sharp-to-be-human teeth on fully display. The portrait screamed confidence; it exuded every bit of the challenge Shyvana managed to carry through her whole demeanor.  

Lux grinned in kind, certain that change was on the horizon.