Chapter Text
There were times when Lux was glad that their ragtag group of pacifist mages included Auntie with her ridiculous divination powers. Times when they snuck past Mageseekers, times when they snuck innocent Mages away from Mageseekers, times when they avoided another confrontation with Sylas. There were many, many times.
All of Demacia, however, would be grateful for the time when Auntie instinctually Glanced at a passing wagon full of cider barrels and travelers, blinked hard, and whispered, “There’s a man tied up in that barrel.”
Long story short, Lux and her friends pulled a stolen Demacian Prince out of a stolen Demacian barrel, both stolen by Noxians, not twenty miles from the Demacian border.
They might have blown up the Noxians, but that was just a bonus.
_ _ _
He woke up somewhere else. Jarvan kept his eyes shut, his breathing even, his limbs loose. With luck, he could learn something before the Noxian assholes realized he was awake and drugged him, again. Maybe what the damn mage who’d stolen his face was up to. He knew they’d been moving him closer to the border, and he’d been so close to escaping before they’d… Do not swallow. They will hear you. Listen. Jarvan could almost hear Uncle Xin reminding him to listen.
“I can’t believe they broke his legs…” a young woman’s voice, angry and concerned.
… He wasn’t bound. His legs felt wrapped, but his arms weren’t bound. He was just… flat on his back, on a hard pallet. Felt like a forest, rustling all around. Still smelled like northeastern evergreens. Still heard crows, which could be anywhere…
… That was Luxanna’s voice?!
“I can’t believe we pulled him out of a barrel.” Another woman. Rougher accent. Familiar accent.
“How should we handle this?” Male voice, no less rough. Same direction, lower volume; were they in a circle near him? Why did they sound like Great City commoners in a forest? Probably a border forest, but who knew for sure? He needed to. If they were anywhere near Everpeak…
“Honestly? Just be ourselves. Jarvan’s always valued honesty.” Luxanna. That was Luxanna. “It’s part of why he’s friends with my straight-lace of a brother.” Said in the same tone as when Garen had been on campaign for a year, and his sister had ‘joked’ about missing him.
Don’t clench your fists. Garen had been worried sick for months. They’d all wondered and worried for almost a year, since Sylas, and Luxanna was apparently safe and free enough to go around pulling Jarvan out of a Noxian barrel…
… Since when could Luxanna take on elite Noxians? Going by her rant at Sylas, she probably was a mage, and good with a crossbow, but who the hell was she with? How could she have gotten that good?
“And when he finds out you’re a mage, on the run with mages?” the other woman conveniently asked for him—Ah. Jarvan had been right. How to break it to Garen, and keep her exemption quiet? “How much will being his best friend’s little sister actually buy you, never mind us?”
Luxanna paused. “Aside from dumping him outside the Illuminators, before he wakes up?”
Do not react. Do. Not. React.
“Depends on his legs.” The man, again. “Even with magic, he’ll need at least a few days’ treatment with me. May not heal right, otherwise.” A cold pit opened back in Jarvan’s stomach.
“He had Hern’s kids thrown in prison to rot.” The woman, again. “Doesn’t matter that they’d no more killed the king than the Vanguard had. Protector take his legs and good riddance, Dom!”
Do! Not! React! To that hateful witch, to any of them, as if they were doing a thing to keep this nation safe--
“Irma!” Luxanna, tell them!
“And leaving his legs broken won’t make me better,” the man, Dom, cut in calmly. “Only a worse healer.”
Jarvan… He didn’t know what to say to that. Shouldn’t be saying anything, anyway.
“And Lux is too sweet to do that, anyway.” Another male voice. Even rougher. Southern country rough.
The woman sighed. “Right. She needs to make kissy faces at her betrothed.”
Do not react.
“You’re still the worst, Irma.” Lux sounded fond, though, if flustered. “And it was never finalized, anyway!”
And whose fault was that? Not that he or Shyvana had complained, but still. Gods, he hoped that Shyvana had found out the fake and set her on fire. Burned away that damn disguise, so that Uncle Xin and Garen could stab her through and Eldred could… Focus.
“Just keep digging, Sunshine.” The rougher man’s voice. How many were there? Could he risk peeking?
“Seriously, though,” and damn if Luxanna didn’t actually sound serious. “What does he actually know about mages? Besides Noxian assassins and Sylas’ murder mob? --Yes, I know they were people who just escaped a hellish dungeon for the first time in years, but nobody’s going to be reasonable about having their father murdered, by people trying to force you to eat live rats. And that’s Jarvan’s view on mages. That’s all he knows. Mages are the Demacian Fiddlesticks.”
A long, considering pause. Jarvan fought to keep his breath even, didn’t dare try to process that, yet. Where was she going with this?
“Growing up, Jarvan was one of the kindest people I knew. Right alongside my father.” She sounded…wistful? Regretful? Mournful? In the same breath as comparing him to Pieter Crownguard, still very much alive and beloved? “You’re some of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.” How? “And until he sees you all as the people you are, nothing is going to change.”
“If Demacia can change at all.” The hateful commoner woman. Irma. Demacia would not be changing for her.
“It’s changing for the worst just fine.” The second man.
“You say he was kind before this mess happened, but I know kids who grew up in chains who might say otherwise.” The first man, talking about Jarvan’s legs. “As Irma said, now we can add Hern’s kids to the list. And your Luca friend.”
… A pause. Had Lux shaken her head? … Nodded? Jarvan didn’t dare look.
“… And he’s a childhood friend, who you don’t want to leave on a temple doorstep in a basket. You may be biased, here.” Another woman, and that was not funny. The sooner they stopped snickering, the sooner Jarvan could have answers.
“… She is our Nobles Expert, though.” Another voice, male but younger. More tentative, slum-raised commoner. That made… six? Seven? Shit.
“Can we go back to leaving him somewhere in a basket?” asked yet another Capital Commoner man—what? “I can maybe make something out of the barrel.”
“Blacksmiths make baskets, now?” The other woman. Commoner, older.
“Will you at least let me fix his legs, first?”
What the actual fuck.
“You know we’re not actually gonna.”
“Not gonna fix his legs?”
“Not gonna leave him on a porch in a basket. What if Noxus steals him again?”
… Jarvan knew he had been talked about like a valuable object before, but seriously?
“So we are going with Lux’s plan?”
“Best one we’ve got.”
“Fourthed.”
“Fifthed.”
“Whatever.”
“Drink up!”
“I love all of you.”
“We know.”
What the actual fuck.
_ _ _ _ _ _
A/N: Note on Lux’s Company: Most of these are extrapolations of the Mages who appear in Volume 5 of the Lux comic (and Volume 1, in Irma’s case). The others are OCs who got picked up since, and guessing who is who may be half the fun. (Or all of the fun may be laughing at Jarvan. Your call.) I will say that I named Dom by giving him a canon nephew working for the Vanguard, not because of a certain demon (I have no idea why Reynolds named the kid that, even if the novella came first). Sorry, even if that would be funny.
Also, Dialogue that Almost Made it in, so Now It’s an Omake. Please let me know if you'd like to see more of these, or want me to never do an Omake ever again:
“And leaving his legs broken won’t make me better,” the man, Dom, cut in calmly. “Only a worse healer.”
Jarvan… He didn’t know what to say to that. Shouldn’t be saying anything, anyway.
“I get it, Dom, but that’s not the most practical.”
“We get that you have a bunch of revenge fantasies, Irma,” another man broke in. “Let’s keep to the ones that don’t make us awful people, remember?”
Irma sighed. “You have to remind me I’m a good and decent person, don’t you?”
Then why did you suggest it?! If she made Jarvan much angrier, he wouldn’t keep cover. He’d--!
“And if we’re being practical,” Luxanna put in, oh no… “He can sign his hateful little laws just as easily without legs. The lack might actually make him more spiteful.” That was--! “He used to be a lot kinder, but… Well. We know why I didn’t trust him.”
Silence.
And he couldn’t trust her. Jarvan had to get back to Demacia.
A/N: And now you see why this didn’t make it in, folks—
Jarvan: It should have! I absolutely need to know this!
Irma: Shut up and wait for next week, when you get character development.
Jarvan: I will NOT--!
Irma: Yeah, you fuckin’ need it.
Dom: Hear, hear.
Avken: I’ll drink to that.
Lux: Good night, everybody! See you next week!
Jarvan: LUXANNA!