The Wings of Change

Though all of Runeterra's cities were stunning in their own unique way, it was perfectly reasonable for the Demacians to assert that theirs were particularly exquisite – especially on this stunning summer's day. Demacia's classical architecture was spectacular whatever the weather, but today the sunshine bathed the kingdom in unprecedented beauty. The ivory perimeters, twisting to kiss the heavens, glinted like a precious pearl in the sun's glow; evergreen trees bowed to the light as if in worship; and, above all, the warmth of summer lifted the spirits of Demacia's citizens during an era fraught with political and military tensions in Valoran. Today, however, was a chance for the Demacian kingdom to turn its attention inwardly and celebrate some glorious news: the engagement of the King's heir, Prince Jarvan IV, to the magical Luxanna Crownguard. Although rumours of a relationship between the two had flitted across the capital for several years, the Lightshield dynasty had been unable to suppress the betrothment and the citizens now looked eagerly towards the official ceremony to confirm their status.

Not that the Lightshields had minded: the news had been met with widespread approval, given the prestigious status that the Crownguards enjoyed in Demacia. In addition to her impressive pedigree, Luxanna was also revered by royalty and peasantry alike for her sweet demeanour, fresh good looks and prodigious skills in magic. She was easily pictured with the strong, capable and handsome figure of Prince Jarvan in the eyes of the public, and thus it seemed a match in heaven. The resulting festivities, therefore, were accordingly grand. Commemorative plates of the attractive young couple had sold quicker than the artists could paint them; flowers had been laid by well-wishers at the gates of Lightshield Castle; and flags bearing the coat of arms for both the Lightshield dynasty and the Crownguards swirled in the skies from both domestic and public dwellings throughout the whole of Demacia. As Quinn strode through the streets of the capital, the constant reminders of Jarvan and Luxanna's fate waved mockingly at her. That was what had hurt the most when she heard the news: it had to be the prettiest, the most popular and arguably the most gifted female in all of Demacia to catch the Exemplar's eye...precious little Lux.

Quinn was growing weary of the crowds that were surging towards the Golden Round and tried to shift to the side. A woman barged past her, smearing finger prints against her newly polished armour. The lady barked at Quinn to look at where she was going, drawing a frown from Quinn and a screech from Valor at the violator. Moving away from the woman, Quinn softly stroked Val's indigo feathers until the great beast retracted his wings and nuzzled into her neck. She smiled as his smooth beak rubbed at her ear under her helmet: the two were so intertwined that they always knew exactly what to do to soothe the other. They scooted towards the back of the round along with other Demacian militants to guard the event, as they had been commanded to do by the bride-to-be's brother, Garen Crownguard. If it had been up to her, she would have avoided the occasion completely, but Garen wasn't the sort of man you could argue with. Headstrong, influential and, above all, most protective of his little sister, he had called upon Quinn and Valor to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity during the congregation of such powerful Demacian figures in one place: given the current hostilities in Runeterra between Noxus and Ionia – the latter being allied to the Demacians – one could not be too careful.

Finally, the people were starting to settle into their seats and were continuing to animatedly discuss the occasion: the electricity of the atmosphere was so infectious that it even managed to instil a surge of adrenaline into Quinn's heavy heart. King Jarvan III had ordered for the ceremony to commence at the strike of the eighteenth hour and time was closing in. The soldier nearest to Quinn turned to her and gave a curt nod, a signal to release Valor to his watch keeper duties. She reciprocated the nod, planted a kiss on the top of her beloved eagle's beak, and watched him soar from her shoulder, fluttering out of sight and perching upon the highest point of the Round. No longer distracted by Valor's warm, reassuring weight, she had no choice but to turn her attention to the event. Suddenly, the rich tang of trumpets reverberated around the grounds and the royal announcer stepped forward, soaking in the crowd's anticipation. The fanfare had riled up the observers, who began chanting the kingdom's motto – 'Demacia: now and forever!' – and 'long live the King!'. The auditor was scarcely able to his voice heard over the Demacians' love for their royal family, but then there was a respectful lull in the audience's yells and he straightened out a royal charter.

'Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the Demacian kingdom! May I request that you all rise for His Excellent Majesty, King Jarvan III of Demacia; his eldest son, Prince Jarvan IV of Demacia; and the entirety of the Demacian Council!'

There was an audible rumble as the audience leapt to their feet, clapping, whistling and cheering their reverence as King Jarvan swept to the front of the Golden Round, his smile even evident to Quinn from this distance and his hands open towards the adoration. She recognised certain members of his advisors, who momentarily braced and searched the crowd for any dangers before visibly relaxing and then waving to the crowd. Wow, they really were worried. Quinn had not realised how politically fraught the situation was with Noxus, and it placed her ill at ease. But even this did not affect her as much as the entrance of the last figure. Her heart ached as Prince Jarvan strode onto the stage, his golden armour shimmering in the twilight sun as his hand met the enthusiastic handshake of his father. The King beamed at the Prince, slapping him on the back with one hand and lifting his son's arm to the sky, as if he had returned victorious from a battle – which, of course, he had done so often in the past. The crowd roared their approval for their future ruler, eliciting an upwards quirk of the young Jarvan's lips and a nod of thanks to the crowd. Always the gentleman. Yet, Quinn had the sense that he was not completely at ease there. It did not seem to be the crowd that daunted him, for he was used to parading in front of such numbers, but rather that he was somewhat distant from the occasion. His eyes kept flickering upwards to something at the top of the stadium whilst his father spoke, but then his head jerked up towards as the royal announcer spoke once more.

'And now, dearest Demacians, please bow your heads for the house of Crownguard, and in particular the fiancée of our noble Prince Jarvan IV – Lady Luxanna Crownguard!'

Thousands of heads dipped simultaneously in respect as the Crownguards came in from the other side of the auditorium. Quinn, who had tilted her head sufficiently to not be accused of heresy, noticed that Garen and Lux's parents were at the front of the entourage. The King warmly embraced his old allies and turned to Lux, who sank into a bow so sycophantic that Quinn thought she may totter over. The King, however, did not seem to mind. He held her slender hand in his and kissed the top of it – provoking a giggle from the blushing Lux – and then placed her hand upon his son's arm. The crowd cheered at the assembly of the two sweethearts. Many were whispering about how beautiful she looked, her luminous blonde hair waving gently down her back and grazing the Demacian blue dress that she wore in place of her normal mage armour. Perhaps if it had been any other girl to marry the Prince, Quinn would not have minded so much. So long as she was a worthy wife of him and made him truly happy, Quinn told herself, then that was what mattered. But she knew from experience how materialistic, narcissistic and thoroughly unpleasant Lux could be, and anger seared through her veins as the bride-to-be flashed her fiancé a dazzling smile. Jarvan smiled down upon her and briefly caressed her cheek with his thumb before they turned to the King to commence the engagement ceremony.

She couldn't watch any more. She had to get out. Quinn surveyed the stadium: satisfied that the crowds were too distracted by the spectacle, she told another guard that she was going to keep an eye on the outer grounds with Valor. His eyebrows raised, but Quinn urgently whispered 'just to be safe'. He peered both ways and then he gave a slight nod. She walked down the sides of the Round in order to avoid unwanted attention and slipped down the stairs, the crowd's adoration still ringing in her ears. Throwing one last wistful look at the stage, by which time the young lovebirds had sunk into a kneel before the King's sword, she descended down to the ground and into the woodland behind the arena. Quinn found a fallen trunk and sat down heavily, staring into the depths of a babbling brook. Half an hour later, no one had come looking for her. With her heart swollen in anger, she stood up and tried to skim stones across the water to distract herself, like she had as a poor little rural girl in her childhood. Her mouth ripped into a downwards line as the sounds of Demacia's delight drifted over to her. Eventually, the loudest roar came from the Round and she closed her eyes. She would not cry over this. She was a respectable warrior and knew she had to toughen up to this if she was going to continue to work closely with Jarvan and Garen in bringing down the Noxians. Valor cried for her instead, his mournful shriek signalling that Demacia's fate had been sealed: Prince Jarvan IV and his Princess Lux were now officially bound to be married, and with it died the last of Quinn's childhood dreams.