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Shyvana chewed idly at the end of the special bone quill she used for her documentation.
CRACK!
Again, she’d forgotten about her own strength; a fissure had split down from the end of the pen, but at least the ink wasn’t leaking out like last time. Perhaps she should switch to the feathers or metal quills other officers used, but there was something about the feeling of bone between her claws that she preferred.
“Aaagghh!” Shyvana snarled in frustration and set the quill back in its stand before standing up and walking to the open window behind her.
She had been working for a week already in the Eastern city of Terbisia, helping to evaluate the reconstruction of the city’s monumental defensive structures, which had been devastated in a great earthquake last year.
But she was getting anxious to head back to her primary post with the Dragonguard at Wrenwall. Outside of the town she’d saved from a dragon attack, stares and whispers followed her around always, along with rash curses and the vulgar epithet, “the King’s beast”.
All that remained now was one important political function, and then she’d be free to head back within the next few days.
Shyvana had received the assignment yesterday and travelled out to the remote country villa where the event would be held. She’d settled in, toured the estate’s lush gardens, and prepared in her military dress to meet whatever dignitaries would be joining. It seemed exceedingly odd that she hadn’t been informed at all of who she’d be meeting or for what purpose.But with sunset already approaching, she was growing impatient and had taken to completing some work to pass the time.
Outside, the Eastern Demacian gardens were full of color as the sun painted its golden brush across the verdant trees, the tranquil reflecting pool and the marble columns of the gazebo. Shyvana breathed in as she stood at the window, filling her lungs with the humid summer air, and then exhaled slowly, small puffs of steam escaping from her nostrils as though it were the dead of winter.
“Captain,” a servant’s voice broke her attempt at quiet contemplation, and Shyvana turned to face them. “The other guests have arrived. Shall I bring them in here?”
Shyvana furrowed her brow and sighed. Political and diplomatic engagements were the worst. The Demacian elite were just as condescending and scornful as the commoners; they just hid their contempt under more elaborate ornamentation. But… she was ready to bow and speak politely, whatever it took to get through this whole thing faster.
“Yes, Elisa, thank you,” she conceded.
The garden outside was on fire in the sun’s final tendrils of pink, red and orange. It was her favorite part of sunsets and sunrises; a reminder that no matter how temperate and cheerful the midday sun, it could still inundate the land in the color of flames at the end.
The doors of the sitting room opened behind her, calling Shyvana’s attention back to the reason for her stay at this villa. A man in lavishly designed royal attire entered the room with a military precision in his step. His eyes gazed straight ahead as he pronounced:
“His Majesty, King Jarvan, Fourth of His Name, Ruler and Protector of the Great Realm of Demacia”
Shyvana gasped audibly and kneeled, bowing her head. She normally hated such empty displays of loyalty, but It had been months since she’d last seen Jarvan, and she took advantage of the ritual to find her composure.
“Rise, Captain,” that familiar voice ordered, and she followed, standing and lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. A light in his eyes made something in her chest flutter suddenly.
For what seemed an eternity, they spoke formally, discussing her work in Terbisia as well as Wrenwall. The villa servants came and went with sweet Demacian fruits, meats and cheeses, and they kept their glasses filled with wine. But eventually, with what seemed no more than a twitch of Jarvan’s fingers, the servants and other members of his entourage bowed and took their leave.
Shyvana and Jarvan met one another’s gaze, and a smile grew on each of their faces as they waited to hear the click of the door shutting behind them.
“Jarvan!” she exclaimed, standing to approach him.
“Ana”. He smiled and caught her in a deep embrace. The warmth between them was a welcome reminder to each of them that the other was alive and well, despite all they’d endured.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Shyvana asked, taking his hands and leading them back to the table where they sat.
“Is my surprise not welcome?” Jarvan responded, to which Shyvana slapped his hand playfully.
“I’d certainly rather meet you here than Wrenwall, anyway“, she mused. “And certainly rather here than the Capital”.
“Yes, any other visit would’ve come with far more pomp and circumstance, and—”
Shyvana cut him off, realizing suddenly: “ You’re the reason I’m in Terabisa to begin with.”
Jarvan sipped at his wine and raised his brows, caught red-handed.
“Such a child,” she tutted. “What happened to all your talk of ‘honor’ and ‘duty’? It’s a bit of an abuse of power to order someone around just for a visit, isn’t it?”
Jarvan set the glass back down and leaned forward toward her.
“Ana, the truth is…”
Her face grew serious as she took note of her friend’s change in tone.
“I…wanted to see you… like it was, before”.
Shyvana was taken off guard, and the fluttering in her chest began again. She hadn’t realized it fully at the time, but her days accompanying Jarvan as he recovered from his near-death encounter with the Noxian army were some of the happiest she’d experienced in years. The first time since Papa’s death that she hadn’t felt so desperately alone.
In a quieter voice she responded, “in some ways, it feels like those were simpler times”.
“It’s been too long since I’ve had any chance to speak with you, like this, at ease”.
Shyvana was capturing every detail in her mind, wishing she could stop the passage of time and just… be… with the one person who made her feel at home.
Still, she shouldn’t be selfish. “But…Jarvan, you have more important matters to attend to, people who need you more than I do. You know I can take care of myself.”
“Of course.”
A silence fell between them.
Shyvana turned and looked out over the serene landscape. Why did she suddenly feel uneasy?
“It lifts my spirits to hear that you’ve been well, Ana.” Shyvana looked back, and her expression softened as she saw Jarvan staring down, as though he was ashamed of what he was about to say next.
“Since you left the Great City, since my father’s death, the Mage Rebellion…”
He stood abruptly and turned, facing away from her.
“But, then, life continues on in the Capital despite everything. Despite our people, innocent people, dying in cowardly attacks. For every real matter I address, there’s another political squabble, a scandal in the court, meaningless things!”
Shyvana approached him slowly, cautiously, and put a hand on his arm in reassurance.
“My father has been trying to marry me off for years. I’ve evaded again and again, but…”
Shyvana sunk inside herself. She’d never told Jarvan about her feelings for him; how could she? Her whirlwind introduction to Demacian society had made it exceedingly clear that a princess, now to be a queen, would soon be arranged for him, and his royal duties would trap him more and more within the walls of his palace. She could serve in his elite personal guard, but in terms of intimacy at that point she might as well be thousands of miles away. And all of that didn’t even take into account what she was. Forget Demacian society, the chances that Jarvan himself would desire a “monster” like her…
She did her best to steel herself for whatever news was coming; she would have to accept it and move forward. She took a deep breath and anchored her gaze once more in the garden again, the peaceful landscape shining softly in the moonlight.
Jarvan turned and took Shyvana’s hand in his own, lifting the other to Shyvana’s cheek and turning her gaze back to him. The skin of her face was soft and delicate, with smooth, protective scales beginning at the edges of her cheeks.
Her heart began to race in her chest. Is this real? She had heard of illusions, dreams and nightmares concocted by mages. Would believing this lead to her heart being crushed once again, heartbroken when the fantasy ended?
“Jarvan” she nearly whispered.
“Ana, I love you ,” the king responded. “I called you here because I wish to court you, with the intention of marriage”.
Shyvana blinked away a tear forming in the corner of her eye and laughed in stunned incredulity.
“If you do not feel the same, I shall leave you at peace,” He let her hands go, beginning to turn away, only somewhat succeeding in suppressing a pained expression on his face. “You’ll always have a home in Demacia, nothing else needs to change, no loss of rank or honor. I’ve told no one else about this”.
A million thoughts swirled in Shyvana’s head as time now seemed to stand still.
The implications of being Jarvan’s lover…would she have to go back with him to the Capital? She hated that city. And what? Be his queen? Stay inside all day in extravagant dress to politic with the ruling class? It would be a gilded cage.
But…she also couldn’t entirely see Jarvan letting that happen. She had trusted him with her life before… And the idea of being physically with him , of not longing for scraps of his attention after long months apart…
Shyvana sprang into action, and with just a few steps had caught him, hands grasping his arms at either shoulder. She closed the distance between them, and Jarvan responded, resting his hands on her hips as their eyes closed and their lips approached. The touch of skin against skin, the tip of his tongue tickling her lip, begging entrance to meet her own.
As much of the world as Shyvana had travelled, as much as Papa had taught her, nothing had prepared her for this.
She felt…happy? Yes. Like there was a place for her in this mad world. Demacia was where she lived now, but it was–it had always been–Jarvan that made it her home.
Shyvana moaned as his tongue danced across her own and found herself leaning her weight onto him, pulled by some strong but invisible force.
Jarvan began to move his kisses down across her jaw to her neck while walking her backward to sit them both down on a divan.
He cupped Shyvana’s face in his hand and, in a decidedly less composed tone, wondered aloud, “You feel the same.”
Shyvana covered his hand with her own and brought it back down to rest in her lap. “I have loved you for a long time, Jarvan,” she said, letting an excited smile form on her lips. But as quickly as it had come, that smile sank into a worried, perhaps even resigned, frown.
“But marriage... I fear it isn’t safe for either of us”. She looked down into her lap. “If I learned only one thing from my time in the capital, it’s that they want nothing, ‘unnatural’, within their hallowed walls. I know they would not take so kindly to me as have the people of Wrenwall”.
“Ana,” Jarvan said, squeezing her hand. “I am the King of Demacia. I will choose my queen, not the court, not the counselors, not the people. And if the Capital cannot be our home, then we will move away from the damned Citadel”.
Shyvana wanted to run, there and then, to flee the plight she’d created for herself, to regain the order she’d had just a few hours before.
Jarvan leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against hers as she closed her eyes. “I don’t want to do this with anyone else, Ana”.
She responded by tenderly knocking her nose against his and followed with a soft kiss.
“I’ll allow you to keep convincing me, Jarvan”.
Heart swelling, he lifted Shyvana into the air and spun her around. For anyone who had ever seen the typically stern Captain of the Dragonguard, it would’ve been an uncanny sight to behold.
Because for a night, if only for a night, she was neither Captain, nor he King; they were just two souls, desperately in love.