EPILOGUE

NEW LIFE IN A NEW WORLD

Quinn was sitting by herself in the sitting room of the Tyrant's quarters, reading through some old books on Noxian tactics he had told her look through, it was hardly the most exciting way to spend the day. But with annotations from the grand tactician himself, the tomes were certainly very insightful. She had been sitting here for most of the morning however and her behind was growing sore and her mind was growing heavy. She closed the book, one of Valor's shed feathers serving as a bookmark as she stood up and stretched herself out before heading towards the door.

Only to nearly run headfirst into Jericho as he came around the corner, the Tyrant neatly sidestepping her.

"Oh! Sorry Jericho." She exclaimed, knowing if she had ran into him the Tyrant likely would have lost his balance and fell with his crippled leg. She noticed something seemed a little different about her friend, it took her a moment before she realised what it was, today he did not wear anything to cover his face, and even more strangely than that he was smiling. That gave her pause, for it was such a rare sight. "What's going on? You seem really happy..."

"Come up to the garden Quinn. The eggs are hatching." Those words sent Quinn's heart soaring straight into her throat. In all that had happened it had slipped her mind that the chicks would be hatching soon.

Outdistancing Swain by a mile, Quinn vaulted up the steps to the rooftop garden, not wasting a moment as she gleefully clambered up to a branch side on to the one the nest lay on. Valor and Beatrice looked up at her as she arrived, before both new parents eyes fell back to nest between them, one standing on either side. Valor spent a moment longer looking at Quinn and she had to smile, knowing her bird was far more nervous than they had been when they attained their rank within Noxus. She reached over and stroked her hand from the top of his head down his spine.

"You'll be a wonderful father Valor, don't worry." She promised in a soothing tone.

Valor accepted the kind words gratefully, his wing stroking against Quinn's hand as she retracted it. Quinn wasn't just a comrade in arms to Valor, she had been with him since he'd hatched, she'd raised him, fought alongside him, played with him and saved his life as many times as he had hers. To Valor, Quinn was a loving mother and a perfect sister all rolled into one, and to the eagle her words meant more than his voiceless affection could ever tell. So after his eyes lingered on hers a moment longer they went back to his nest's, the egg's showing their first cracks along their top's.

Swain rejoined the group, the branch low enough that the tall man could still see into the nest from his position on the ground. Quinn looked to him for a moment, her gaze quickly gravitating back to the nest as all of them waited with baited breath. There were four eggs in total, and two already showed a great many cracks, Quinn's well trained ears could hear quiet cheeping...

The first broke open, a little head emerging, then the second, both cheeping frantically. The third and fourth took a time longer, in fact it looked like they might not hatch at all, then Beatrice took it upon herself, the new mother hopping forwards and sticking the front talon of her right foot through both shells, with that added crack the two chicks broke through with ease, joining their siblings in cheeping frantically as they looked about at their new family. With the full clutch hatched all four of the onlookers, man and avian alike let out a sigh of relief, only now truly taking in the appearance of the newborns.

The chicks were a dark blue, far darker than Valor but still quite a ways from the pure midnight black of their mother, settling somewhere between the two, their downy coat slick to their forms with the yolk of the eggs they had just burst from. They were as unique as their mother, that was obvious even now, whilst one had only two eyes like it's father, a pair of them had four, the secondary pair small and blinking behind their first, and the final chick, darker than the rest had six just like her mother. The two parents stared in wonder, looking up to Quinn and Swain for a moment, as close to tears as it was possible for birds to come. The Maid, Annetta chose now to approach, holding in her hands a basin of warm water and a soft white towel.

"I thought I'd clean the chicks up for you, get them dried off." She didn't address the Tyrant or Quinn this time, but rather the two birds directly, her soft smile matching that of the man beside her to a T, neither of the new parents made a move to stop her, Quinn and Swain however moved to help. Quinn springing lithely down from her spot on the branch and gently taking one of the newborns, the young bird wriggling and cheeping in the palms of her hands.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Your Mommy and daddy are right here." she cooed to the bird, Swain and Annetta similarly occupied with chicks of their own, Swain holding one in each hand. They lowered them into the warm waters, the chicks calming as they were brought near one another, Valor and Beatrice sitting either side of the bowl on the rim, watching as their children had the sticky yolk gently rubbed from their coats then slowly dried off with the plush towel. Quinn couldn't stop herself from grinning like a little girl being given a pony as the chick's down puffed up, so wonderfully fluffy to the touch as she gently picked one back up, putting it back down in the nest , quickly joined by its siblings and mother. Valor meanwhile hopped to Quinn, the bird wrapping his wings about her head, hanging their as he let out a loud ecstatic screech, his children attempting to copy him with little success. Quinn laughed as she hugged her best friend back, petting down the birds back. A small chuckle escaped Quinn's lips, but no words could find their way to join them, there were no words needed right now. She held Valor close for a good time. Valor had been everything to her for so many years, a brother to replace the one she'd lost to the forest she eventually found him in, but also a son, a wonderful young bird she'd raised herself, and a creature she couldn't imagine being without. A special kind of pride filled Quinn's heart as she embraced Valor, the pride of a parent seeing her children have children of their own. A parent who was confident their children would do a fantastic job of raising them to. She put her arm beneath him so he could hop from her wrist as she released him, the eagle bouncing back onto the branch beside his new love. Beatrice had settled into their nest and Valor happily joined her, the chicks nestling into their parents chests as the two lovebirds nuzzled each other with quiet happy coo's.

Quinn and Swain likely would have stood there forever, basking in the happy moment for as long as they could, but Annetta gently took both by the elbow.

"Come on Quinn, Sir. We should leave them to their children for now. Every parent wants time alone with their children..." She urged, a faint pang of long forgotten pain entering her voice at the second sentence. If Jericho took note he gave no sign, merely nodding and following her lead.

Quinn however gently eased from her grip, too wrapped up in the moment to notice the hidden tones of Annetta's voice. She leaned up, giving Valor a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm so proud of you Valor..." She murmured, smiling at him and Beatrice for a moment before following after Jericho and Annetta...

Elsewhere in the city, a young couple were finally able to be together without reprisal, and were using this wonderful opportunity to sleep through the day in one another arms.

Garen awoke slowly, right around mid-day, though when he first woke he was sure he must still be dreaming, as there curled into his chest was Katarina, the blade of Noxus and the love of his life. The young assassin had taken to using him as a pillow at some point during the night and in no way did Garen have a problem with this. His hand began softly stroking through her long blood red hair, the new champion of Noxus indulging in the peaceful moment, but eventually his hands ministrations woke the girl and, yawning, she looked up at him, blinking the sleep from her eyes as a faint smile found its way to her lips.

"Good morning..." She murmured drowsily, her hand taking his and giving it a gentle squeeze. There was the faint thump, thump, thump of a person's footfalls going by the door.

"Good morning to you to." He smiled, giving her a soft kiss. There was a knock on the door, Garen lifted his head in alarm.

"It's mid-afternoon." Came the bored, distant voice of Talon through the closed door, Katarina's shadow, before footfalls signalled him making his way off once more. Both sets of eyes stayed watching the door for a moment, when that moment passed, the next was filled with an outburst of laughter from Katarina, that startling Garen almost as much as Talon had.

"Come on, I guess we've wasted away enough of the day." She teased, sliding from his arms and out of the bed, Garen spent a moment longer just enjoying the view before he to slid from bed. Dressing in a simple white button-less shirt and dark blue pants, Katarina dressing in a military pair of pants and a white frock that looked like something Miss Fortune would wear, though unlike Miss Fortune, Katarina did up every button.

"How does some breakfast sound?" Katarina asked over her shoulder as she walked to the door, slippers moving soundlessly across the floor.

"That sounds fantastic Kat. Though I think at this point it'd be lunch."

The two began walking through the halls of the Du Coteau manor, both hand and blade inwardly still jumping for joy for one simple reason. They were finally together, for months now they had kept their feelings for one another hidden from the world for fear of reprisal, but now that reprisal had come and gone so now they could simply enjoy being with one another. Despite all the pain Garen had been through, losing the man who'd been instrumental in shaping the warrior and man he'd go on to be- Quinn's father, losing his city and home and being betrayed by his best and closest friend. Garen could still see the silver lining of what had happened, and that silver lining had fiery red hair and an even more fiery personality.

Arriving in the dining room, the two were quickly laden down with a lavish lunch of marinated chicken and cheeses, hot coffee delivered to them moments after. The dining room was a small, rather quiet affair, a door to the side leading to the kitchen and wide windows on the other letting in a cool afternoon breeze. Talon was seated at the other end of the table, sipping at a cup of tea, his feet callously perched on the table as he leaned back in his chair, reading a book in his lap, he looked up to give them a polite nod, the assassins face as impassive as always. Garen nodded back, Katarina giving a smile and a wave, and for a time a silence settled over the dining hall as all enjoyed their own private meals.

After dabbing the juices of his lunch off his lips, Garen looked back up at Talon, he had fought the assassin, he had fought alongside the assassin, he had killed the assassin. But all of these took place in the league, and all were not exactly social activities and Garen realised he had never properly been introduced to the Shadows Blade. Now was as good a time as any he thought to himself, seeing as it looked like they'd be living together from now on. So he stood up from his place beside Katarina, padding over to Talon, the assassin looking up as Garen's foot prompted a creak from the floor.

"Yes?" He asked, eyes half hidden by the hood of the dull purple coat he wore in place of his battle wear bladed mantle, his tone like Garen was a teacher setting homework such was the apathy.

Garen paused for a moment, before deciding to venture on as best he could, offering a hand to the much shorter and thinner but in no way less dangerous man. "I just thought we should get properly introduced, seeing as we're both living together now." He said, doing his very best to seem as pleasant as possible, an affable smile on his honest features. This only prompted a quiet sigh from Talon who kicked himself off from the table, stepping out of his chair at the peak of its lift, his book snapping closed in one hand and the other gripping Garen's paw as the chair legs thumped back into the carpet behind him.

"Talon, scion of house Du Coteau and lifeguard to the father of this house, until he is located I am instead Katarina's guard. Pleasantries done with?" He inquired, eyebrow up not at Garen but at Katarina.

"Heh heh, go on Talon you can get out of here." She called from where she still sat, finishing off Garen's coffee, the assassin nodded gratefully. Letting go of Garen and walking from the room, but not before whispering a single threatening sentence in Garen's ear.

"If you ever hurt her in anyway, I will skin you alive." Once that was said, the door clicked shut behind him, Katarina still chuckling softly as she took Garen's arm.

"He isn't exactly the most sociable, don't try and make him be. He might warm to you in time. Might still be a little bit sore about the last league match you killed him in." As she spoke, she led him through a glass door, out onto the balcony, Noxus spreading out below them. Buildings so packed together they were like pathways in and of themselves, rooftops forming streets, hills and pathways far above the city goers. The two settled at the balcony, watching over the city for a team, Garen drinking in the essence of the city, his city, and with Katarina at his side, it didn't seem half bad at all...

Far below those rooftop streets, and the young couple, the famed executioner was wiling away his day in a rather different way. Out in the long stretch of grass that served as his backyard and practice yard, Draven held a spinning blade in either hand, his face lacking its usual pompous grin, dead-set in concentration as his eyes centred on the target at the other end of the range, a good twenty metres away.

He threw a blade, casting his arm out and releasing it with practiced precision. The blade flew straight and true, it's constant gyration furthering its range, it impacted on the target, dead centre in the wooden mannequin's head, rebounding off it the blade flew high and Draven caught it as it fell, the blade still spinning on its central ring. He himself then spun on his heel flinging both blades together, parallel to the ground they impacted off either side of the mannequin's abdomen, effectively bisecting it before bouncing off against the walls towards Draven, but he'd got the timing just off, and both flew past him to lie flat on the ground.

Draven cursed himself vehemently, walking to retrieve them, his angered shouts reaching someone else's ears out the front of his home.

Darius had come to his brothers home to check up on him, his brother having been rather reserved with him lately, contrary to his usual bragging self. However undeniably infuriating Draven was, he was the only family Darius had, which meant- as the older brother- it was his job to look out for him. Hearing the curses he furrowed his brow, using his copy of Draven's house key and stepping in. Moving through Draven's home quickly he made his way to the back door, poking his head out. Draven had retrieved his axes by now, and had just caught one on its rebound, changing his usual pattern by throwing it under arm, the blade took the head of the mannequin clean off, bouncing off the wall far above and behind it. Darius stepped out of the doorway quickly, catching the blade as it fell towards him.

"Hmn." He murmured as he stopped the blade spinning, squeezing the lock trigger in the sides of the handle. He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he looked at his brother, tossing the blade in the air and catching it between his fingers and his thumb, holding it out to him handle first.

"I haven't seen you training like this in a long time Draven, what's gotten into you?" He asked, his voice lighter than it usually was, more cheery. It was good to see his brother training again, rather than just assuming he was the greatest there was.

"That bitch." Was his brothers bitter response, taking the blade from his brother without ceasing the one in his opposite hand's spinning.

"Hmn? What woman has rankled you this time Draven? Someone turn you down?" He asked jokingly, a faint smirk on his chiselled features.

"The Demacian girl, Quinn. The tyrant's new faaaavourite. Yours to it seems." Draven replied sarcastically, tossing an axe so hard the mannequin fell over, the axe still embedded in its chest.

Darius sighed quietly, walking to his brother. "Draven..." He murmured, the younger of the blood brothers spun to face him, a growl in his throat and his moustache trailing behind his whipping head.

"Yes?" He demanded, internally fuming with his brother for having become so close to the Demacian woman, for being friendly with her and even defending her when she- in Draven's eyes- had gone out of her way to make Draven look bad and show him up.

"Draven, your my brother. That means I'm always going to be here to look out for you and look after you, but that also means I have to stop you from getting into trouble, stop you being an idiot and make you see reason. Hell, being who we are, it's my job to protect people from you as well. But I'm still your brother. I have nothing against Quinn, she's a nice girl and if you'd get over yourself for a moment and admit you were the one at fault in the bar, I'm sure you could get on fine." Darius put his hand down on his brothers shoulder, as ever towering over him, his brother was fit, well muscled and handsome, but still he barely came up to his giant of a brothers shoulders.

Draven swept the arm away, snarling as he turned away. "Just let me train Darius, I need to prove I'm better than her. She's shown me up enough, and I'm gonna put her in her bloody place." He walked to the mannequin, yanking the axe from its chest and tossing the mannequin over the wall into the alleyway beside his home.

Despite the accusatory tone his brother levelled at him, Darius still had to smile. Draven never trained, and honestly, he was going soft. He never really had a rival, someone to strive to beat. Maybe his hatred of Quinn could actually serve to humble his brother, and improve his skills at the same time. Someone who destroyed the illusion of him forever and always being the very best. Maybe, with a bit of pushing, Quinn would even offer some friendly competition. Rivalry was often the start of a good friendship and Draven didn't really have friends. He had cronies, and his brother, and that was about it, and sometimes Darius couldn't help but despair for his brother, his pride only serving to drive him into loneliness. Darius let himself out of the executioners home, calling out as he left.

"Come see me later Draven. When you've calmed down." He got no response, but his brother, despite all his faults, was at least loyal to him, even if he didn't always listen to him. So he was confident he could expect Draven at his doorstep this evening, but for now, he'd leave his brother to himself.

As Darius walked off to do whatever it was he did for the tyrant for most of the day, Draven watched him go from the doorway, once he'd turned at the end of the road. Draven stepped out, slamming the door behind him and stalking off to the nearest clothing store... He needed more mannequins.

Far away, out past the borders of Noxus in the land Garen and Quinn had so recently fled, Prince Jarvan IV Lightbringer stood on the balcony of his office in his families palace, elbows on the guard railing as he looked out over the city of Demacia. His city. Behind him, a lowly clerk sat with a notebook open in his lap, frantically noting down all the prince said as he had requested, fetching the clerk from his work place elsewhere in the palace keeping track of taxation figures.

"Over the course of the last month or so, it has been revealed to me that the citizens of Demacia- the glittering city brought to such prosperity by my families hand- even some amongst my personal elite, hold sympathies for the enemy, for the dread nation Noxus and its own people. Even my most trusted companion, Garen Crownguard has betrayed me over a Noxian assassin's bosom." He orated to himself, only aware of the peasant behind him as a record keeper, a servant.

He paused for a time before continuing, his gaze going away from the city to stare at the rank pin he held in the palm of his right hand, 'royal life ward' it read, the words inscribed in white gold over a miniaturised Demacian flag. It had been Garen's until his friend had committed treason, betrayed Demacia... Betrayed him. Garen had lost many a man to the Noxian army, he'd seen the suffering they wreaked upon the lands, the harm they brought to the peasant folk under Demacia's protection. Why would he do this? Why would he join them? All Jarvan's life he had known Garen to be a man of honour, strength and values, all of the values Demacia held most dear. Yet now he had abandoned all of them for some Noxian harlot, joining the forces of evil and turning his back on the weak he had defended for so long, on his family, his friends, on him... Could Jarvan really have been so wrong about him all these years?

"By the power vested in me as commandant of the Demacian military, and heir to the throne. Any and all sympathies towards the enemy will result in immediate detainment and summary execution. We cannot allow such ideas to spread through the citizenry with two of our nation's champions having so recently defected. Lest we risk mass defection and riot's, Quinn and Garen's actions could reduce Demacia into anarchy. This will not be allowed. We must stand firm in the face of this latest crisis, we must show strength and show those Noxian scum that taking those two from us has not reduced Demacia in the slightest. Raid's will begin on their borders, crushing their outposts and pillaging their resources. We Demacian's are not to be trifled with and it will be ensured that they are more than sure of this." His speech temporarily over, he took a breath in, refilling his chest as he turned to look at the scribe.

"Did you get all of that down?" He asked, a polite smile on his lips belying the rage and sadness that warred in his heart.

"Yes sir, just give me a moment." The clerk stammered out swiftly, looking up at Jarvan and pushing his thick rimmed glasses up his nose in one motion. "You said rather a lot, rather quickly." He apologised, before looking down, continuing to write.

Jarvan the fourth nodded politely, watching the small man write for a moment, his ink tipped pen flitting across the page furiously, locked in its single purpose. Occasionally the scribe would take it from the page, dipping it in the ink well beside his folded legs and scraping excess off against the rim before continuing to write. Never taking his eyes from the page. Jarvan had an admiration for men like this, small in the world but sure of their purpose, their place in everything, masters of their craft. Sometimes Jarvan envied people like him, they did not have to worry about the big picture, they had him and people like him to do it for them, the decisions were out of their hands, sheep left to enjoy their lives as the Sheppard's made sure they could keep doing so. He pitied them for that same reason, so blissfully ignorant of what conspired around them, of what he did to keep them safe.

"And done. What would you like me to do with this sir?" Said the scribe, looking up at the royal figure before him through his spectacles, eyes a watery blur through their lens.

That caused Jarvan to pause for a brief moment, considering his words before he spoke. "Make copies of everything from 'by the power vested in me' onwards, speak to the couriers and order for it to be delivered to all mayors of towns under Demacian rule and commanders of our military. Make it clear that there are to be no exceptions to that rule, any voiced Noxian affections are to be punished immediately with imprisonment and subsequent execution."

"Yes sir." The scribe said, collecting up his tools, putting a stopper on his ink bottle and cleaning the ink from his pen, both disappearing into the pockets of his robes, the notebook held under one arm. "Will there be anything else sir?" He said, turning to leave the balcony.

"Scribe... Do you know where the Crownguard family are now?" Jarvan asked absently, looking out over the city.

"They're um... They're under house arrest until your father, the King, is confident they share none of Garen's sympathies?" The scribe said questioningly, unsure of where this line of conversation had come from.

"Yes... Yes they are. I'll be going to see Miss Luxanna later... You can go Scribe, thank you for your time." Jarvan said distantly, looking over the city to the manor of the Crownguard family, thoughts tumbling through his head, matters of trust, pain and even the League. Would he allow her to fight there before he was sure of her loyalty... He was not sure, that would be a matter he'd discuss with the advisors later, but for now. He just wanted some time alone.

"Of course my liege, fare thee well." The Scribe said as he absconded from the balcony, heading to fulfil his orders. Jarvan waited until he heard the door close behind him before walking back to his office, picking up a bottle of the finest Demacian liquor from a cabinet. He took a deep slug from it, holding it out and staring into its caramel depths.

"I need your guidance old friend... What do I do now?" He muttered to himself, looking at a portrait on his wall, Garen and himself as children, their fathers hands laid proudly upon their shoulders. "Why must you make me do this...?"

Even further away, outside the jurisdiction of either of the two nations, a young summoner was getting out of bed, her room deep within the confines of the institute of war. Madgova dressed in her dull purple robes after taking a shower and brushing her teeth. Yawning widely, the shy girl padded out of her room.

Arriving in the mess-hall, she sat down by herself, having a quick breakfast so she could hurry along to practice before some of the other young summoners showed up. She wasn't exactly the most popular person around here...

Head down she quickly scarfed up her porridge, it had a good amount of honey and sugar poured over the top. More filling than the pancakes and other treats, but just as sweet, she considered it the perfect breakfast. Looking up, dabbing at her lips with a hanky she noticed for the first time she wasn't alone in the mess hall, another summoner was sitting further down the bench, feet up on it and a book in his lap. Stefan. He looked oddly down, a distance away from his usual cocky grin, despite what a mean person he was, she knew few people trained harder than him, so it was odd to see him relaxing like this.

Gulping down her trepidation as curiosity fought its way to the fore, Madgova walked over, her voice breaking out from her lips.

"Stefan...? You'd usually be training right now. Is um... Is something wrong?" She asked quietly.

"What's the point?" He asked back, eyes staring up at her from beneath his dark fringe.

"What... What do you mean? You always trained the hardest out of all of us."

"Madgova, don't you pay attention to the news at all. Remember our last match? Where Quinn's pet featherhead attacked Jarvan?" He had a bit of a smile back on his lips now, seeming eager to spout his predicitons.

"Yeah?"

"Quinn's gone to Noxus now Madgova, same as Garen, and you know what I think? I think a wars coming. One that the league won't even have a chance to be a part of."

(Well guys. That's the end of part one, I hoped you all enjoyed this tale, I know I certainly enjoyed writing it. By the way, I read all the reviews and I really appreciate you sending them in, and if you have any questions, feel free to PM me. Part two will be a while, but don't worry, you still have the prologue story to look forward to before that.)

-Alma.