23 CLE, roughly a month after the Shadow Isles invasion.
Jarvan moped around in his chambers during most of his free time. Which was almost all the time due to the fact that he was no longer fit for his usual duties. He wept, he drank, he threw things around in a fit of rage, he slept, repeat.
Today began like any usual day lately. Jarvan awoke stiff from unrest, angered that he was brought back into the real world. He stomped out of his chambers, grabbed a random bottle of alcohol from the kitchen, and slammed his chamber doors behind him without saying a word to anyone. The whole palace was deeply concerned for him. Anyone could see that he was rapidly spiraling downward, and needed help fast.
The prince's chambers were filthy. This was due to the fact that he threw random items aside and would not let the servants step more than a few feet inside to clean. They would drop off a tray with his meal, then quickly pick up as much trash as they could and scurry out.
If anyone were to step into Jarvan IV's chambers they would immediately feel the downing feeling of despair and smell the potent stench of alcohol.
The Guard moved through the Palace, his head held high and back straight. His a look of pride upon his face, HE had been rostered on to protect the princes chambers! THE PRINCE! He smirked and patted his sheathed sword as he began whistling. He passed through various corridors on the way to relieve the current guard of his position, he rounded the corner and noticed the current guard was nowhere to be seen... Odd...
No matter, the guard took his position by the door and stood, waited... And waited... The smell of alcohol wafted from behind the door causing the guard to scrunch his nose in disgust, what was the prince doing? He knew of the rumors about him being married and losing his wife in the same day... This was how the prince of Demacia handled that situation? Getting drunk and hiding away?... The guards respect for the Prince, the man who slayed dragons... had disappeared almost in an instant.
The Guard's eyes narrow as the light in the corridor fades, hid good mood obliterated, he glanced nervously down either side of the corridor as the burning torches dimmed before flickering out and simply smoldering... A figure approached from the far end of the corridor, a black silhouette of a man moved toward the guard, "Halt!" The figure simply continued to approach, all his features obscured a whisper floats through the air, "Sleep..."
The guard drops.
Azazel continued to walk down the darkened corridor, his black robes shifting with every movement leaving slight wisps of black smoke trailing in the air behind him as he walked, he had taken the guise of a guard to enter the castle and make it this far. Azazel paused in front of the door, he inhaled the stench from the door and grinned, the prince was broken... To push him over the edge would be fun... Without knocking Azazel enters, his eyes glowing cyan as he looked upon where the prince would be. "Hello little prince... I have a message from the Isles."
Jarvan grunted as his door was quickly opened and closed. He wasn't angered that someone entered without knocking. They would get an earful if they bothered him in his angst. So they would do their assigned task and leave as quickly as they could.
The prince felt a spark of rage as he heard a voice that wasn't his father's or Garen's. He took a big swig from his bottle and slammed it down on a bookshelf. He quickly turned around though when the word Isles was said. "YOU!" His voice boomed throughout his chambers. "What have you done with MY wife? WHERE IS SHE?!"
Jarvan then began a clumsy, partly drunken gate towards Azazel. He lunged towards the hooded figure and grabbed fistfuls of his cloak. "BRING HER BACK." He was half demanding, half pleading.
Azazel casually stood his ground, his piercing gaze trained upon the prince as he stumbled toward the undead Summoner. With a simple flick of his wrist a small piece of paper appeared within Azazel's hand, "For one, prince, my name is Azazel, remember the name." He smiled, a sick sadistic smile, pleasure at seeing the prince so broken caused Azazel's eyes to almost gleam with enjoyment, "Stop. This letter is from your little play thing, the woman I personally bound and took to the Isles." All amusement left his eyes as they grew deadly serious, his voice drops to a monotone, "You should have seen her beg."
Jarvan quickly released Azazel's cloak when the letter was brought out and Belle was mentioned. The sight of the man in front of him smiling angered him, and made him want to punch that smile right off of his face. "Play thing?" He spat the words. "Marabelle is a respectable woman, she is also my wife."
The prince clenched his fists at his sides when Azazel mention bounding Belle and stealing her. It took every bit of willpower he had to not leap on top of the undead summoner and beat his face in. "How dare you touch her, you filth?"
Jarvan lost all composure though when Azazel spoke of making her beg. He imagined this suspicious man beating her, and that was not okay. Jarvan screamed and threw out the hardest right hook his body could manage. It was clumsy, but if it hit it would do serious damage.
The right hook from Jarvan no doubt was thrown with enough drunken force to knock a man out in one swing, but as the punch drew closer to Azazel's form, something odd would happen... Jarvan's fist would hit nothing, Azazel's face distorting and breaking before swirling like smoke. From behind the Prince, Azazel's voice would sound, unimpressed and almost bored.
"Your drunken state seems to have dulled your senses... At least you aren't a complete sniveling wreck." Azazel was now standing a few feet away behind Jarvan, his eyes flickered with cyan energy for a moment before the image in front of the door fades away, evaporating like mist, "A respectable woman? I beg to differ. What she has done upon the isles is nothing respectable, small prince."
Azazel holds the letter out toward Jarvan, "A message from the woman you love..." Should Jarvan try reach for it, Azazel would snatch it away, "Here's the thing... I want to play a small game before I hand it to you..."
Jarvan reeled and had to regain his balance as his punch sailed through smoke. He grumbled something about 'damned magic' and spun around when he heard the voice come from behind. His head piece became crooked, and he pushed it back up properly. His helm was all he wore from his usual golden armor. A full suit of armor was not ideal attire for the drunk, for they would end up face planting from the weight of it.
The prince scoffed at Azazel's words. "Ha! I may be drunk, but I can still mess up your face." His words were horribly slurred, and some seemed to blend together. Jarvan's eyes widened and a spark of rage could be seen within as Azazel spoke of his wife. "You. Your king forced himself on my wife DIDN'T HE?! I'll kill him."
Jarvan's rage became controllable once the letter was brought up again. He quickly reached for it, only to have it whipped away from his reach. "My patience is wearing thin, Azazel. Speak your game now." He growled the last word.
The letter faded away as though it were also made of mist, evaporating into the air to disappear. Azazel simply shook his head, "The King didn't force anything upon her, she does it all willingly." Azazel smirked, his eyes watching the Prince closely, "I have no reason to lie to you, you're already nothing more than a sniveling mess. What would the fun be in breaking what is already broken?"
The Summoner's eyes flashed as he spoke, "My game is simple little prince, you want the letter? All you have to do is take it from me."At once all light in Jarvan's chamber would fade away into nothing leaving them in the pitch black chamber, Azazel's cyan glowing eyes pierced the darkness, "Remember, this is a game... Try to have fun you sorry excuse for a man."
Each word that Azazel said made Jarvan more and more angry. "Fine, then you threatened her. Said you would call off the attack if she came with you? She is too pure for anything else."
Being drunk and in the dark was a dangerous combination, even for the prince. But, he would stumble around in the dark until he snatched that letter from Azazel's hands. He could feel his Demacian resolve returning. His Lightshield stubbornness was coming back in force.
"Give it to me now you fool! I'll show you how much of a man I really am." He carefully stepped towards those glowing cyan eyes. He kept his arms out in front of him to keep him from running into things, and to also be prepared to grab Azazel when he neared him.
Once more Azazel's form would fade away, his voice coming across angered now, "Who is the fool, prince? I would say it is the coward drinking instead of fighting for what he loves." Azazel's voice dropped to a whisper as his form materialized behind the prince, a cold suffocating sense of dread and despair flowed from Azazel's aura and would nearly overpower Jarvan, pulling him back into his depressed state. Should he resist and pull through, the light would return to the room and Azazel would be standing before him with the letter outstretched towards Jarvan.
Jarvan's rage evaporated when the insult was thrown back at him. Azazel was right, he was a fool. He let himself get swallowed by his grief instead of fighting to save his love.
The prince began to shake as despair and depression threatened to take a hold of him again. He fought against it, and his resolve stayed true. "ENOUGH! No more hiding, no more running away. I am going to fight, and I won't stop until I get her back."
Jarvan looked around surprised as the lights turned back on. He found Azazel in front of him and began to cautiously reach for the letter. Once he had it, he ripped it open eagerly to read its contents.
Post by Marabelle De'Vera Lightshield on May 28, 2013 2:37:34 GMT -5
The letter smelled lightly of Belle, and was written in intricate, refined handwriting that was a perfect match to her real writing. If this were fake, it would have taken a tremendous amount of effort to put it together. Chances are it was very much the real deal.
My Dearest Jarvan,
I write to you with my own still living hands. My heart beats as strong as it did when I first met you in the market, and stronger still is my faith that you are tending to the needs of your kingdom. I am blessed to have met you, and even more to experience the love we share with such unwavering dedication.
Demacia is safe. That is the most important thing. And I am glad to know it will remain so. I can not possibly find all the words I need to say in this one letter. But know this, Prince Jarvan Lighshield IV.. My husband.. I will always love you.. No matter what happens. I will always be with you... even if I cannot be so physically. My heart is always yours. And I miss you terribly.
Remain strong, my love. For your Kingdom and yourself. I will protect you.
Tears began to roll off of Jarvan's face as he read the letter. Belle was still alive, and not undead. Not only was she safe, she still had faith in him and loved him. This letter meant that she was still reaching out, and that she depended on him.
Once the Prince was done reading it, he folded it up carefully and clutched it close to his chest. He then remembered that he was not alone in the room, and quickly wiped the tears off of his face. "Er, why did you deliver this to me? Won't your king be angry?"
Azazel watched the prince as he read the letter with an impassive stare, the summoner seemed to ignore the tears that had rolled down the Princes' cheek, "Seems you have stopped being a sniveling worm. About time."
Azazel's brow knitted into a slight frown, his arms crossed over his chest, "The King allowed her to send the letter, why, I do not know." In reality, Azazel knew exactly why the King allowed it, but he wasn't going to share that information with the Prince until he proved to be useful, "The Ruined King himself told me to deliver it to you." Azazel pauses a slight smirk appearing upon his lips, "I can just as easily deliver one back... Should you make it worth my time."
Jarvan grunted when Azazel continued to throw insults at him. "You wouldn't understand because you don't love anyone." The now awakened Jarvan was aware of how much of a mess his chambers were. He felt embarrassed and approached a chair and turned it the right way. He was confused when Azazel said his king allowed it. "Strange, taking actions that lead to a boost in your enemy's morale isn't usual."
The prince tried to hide his excitement when the hooded man said he could deliver a letter back to Belle. He sat in the upright chair and motioned to another that was laying askew on the ground. "Sit." He crossed his foot over on top of his knee and folded his hands in his lap. His intoxication beginning to wear away. "What would make it worth your time then?"
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