After changing clothes, Luke headed downstairs.
He realized it was still early—barely past seven in the morning.
Seeing Lux in the living room, happily digging into a bowl of ice cream this early, irritation flared up in Luke's chest.
He walked straight over and called out, "Miss Crownguard, look at me."
"Hm?" Lux, who had the ice-cream spoon pressed to her lips, lifted her head and looked his way.
The moment her gaze landed on him, Luke immediately triggered Heroic Swagger. In an instant, his presence shifted—like a gust surged off him, a full-on "main character aura" bursting into the room.
Lux's bright blond hair swayed twice. Her eyes widened under that sudden pressure… and then a thread of concern slipped into her expression.
"So… what's wrong with you this time? This early in the morning, too?"
Luke: "…"
Seeing him still holding the pose, Lux tilted her head, then looked away and went right back to her ice cream.
"You don't feel anything different about me?" Luke scratched his head, refusing to give up.
"Sure do." Lux nodded seriously. "Feels like whatever you've got is worse than usual."
Luke fell silent for a second and decided he wasn't going to engage with her anymore.
He figured the problem was that this blond airhead was too single-track-minded to notice anything.
So he headed out toward the courtyard—and just in time, Lady Fiora stepped through the gate.
"Ahem."
Luke quickened his pace, moved to her side, cleared his throat, and successfully drew Fiora's attention.
When she looked over, he immediately triggered Heroic Swagger again—another gust peeled off him.
Fiora stood there, stared at Luke for two seconds without saying a word, like she was looking at an idiot, then turned and walked toward the back courtyard with the exact same blank expression.
Luke was left standing there, slightly stunned.
For a moment, the air itself felt awkward.
Not long after, Sona came in as well. She saw Luke standing motionless at the entrance, curiosity flickering through her eyes for an instant.
Luke immediately fired Heroic Swagger a third time.
Sona tilted her head, completely puzzled.
Then, apparently deciding the prince was doing something weird again, she only gave him one more glance before continuing into the courtyard.
At that moment, staring at Heroic Swagger on his skill list, Luke sank into silence.
He seemed to have found a skill even more useless than White Flash.
What the hell was this? It wasn't even as practical as using Wuju Style.
And because of it, he'd turned himself into a clown first thing in the morning.
Still… after thinking it through, it was a free skill. Better than nothing.
Luke turned back into the courtyard, walked up to Sona, and rested his hand lightly on her Etwahl as he asked, "Where's Kahina?"
"She's going to the Illuminators' Chapel today. She probably won't be coming," Sona's pleasant voice answered.
Luke nodded, withdrew his hand, returned to the main house, and started making breakfast.
By eight, breakfast for five was ready.
Everyone sat down on time. With a spread that looked genuinely abundant, the mood stayed warm and relaxed—casual chatting, unhurried bites.
"Oh, right. The day after tomorrow, I need to go take part in the Academy's hunting tournament."
Luke mentioned it to Fiora and Sona, who hadn't known yet.
Fiora asked casually, "Oh. How many days?"
Luke thought for a moment. "Probably at least half a month."
The instant he said that, Fiora's chopsticks paused mid-air. Her expression stalled for a beat.
Fifteen days?
Her brain immediately hit on a crucial, life-or-death issue:
If Luke was gone for half a month… that meant half a month without mooching his cooking.
After so long, their appetites had been spoiled by him. Put another way, their stomachs were practically shaped like this guy's cooking at this point.
And now he was about to drop a half-month gap on them—how was anyone supposed to survive that?
Fiora glanced at the light, simple breakfast dishes on the table, and her eyes changed.
She suddenly went quiet. But if you looked closely, you could see it—her eating speed had noticeably increased.
If they were about to face a half-month famine, then right now she needed to eat more. Anything. Even one extra bite.
And at that same moment, Sona and Lux both caught Fiora's strange behavior with razor-sharp sensitivity.
Their brains turned once.
They realized the same problem.
At the same time, both of them sped up too, and the table fell abruptly silent.
A breakfast that had been calm and breezy a second ago turned into a quiet battlefield.
Luke watched the food on the plates dropping at a visible rate and wondered if he'd accidentally made breakfast extra delicious today.
He picked up a bite and tried it. It tasted the same as always.
Still, seeing the three of them eat with such intense seriousness filled him with a strange sense of accomplishment.
That breakfast perfectly embodied what you'd call the Clean Plate Club.
And it saved Fiora a lot of trouble with dishes afterward.
Once Luke was full and satisfied, he went to the front courtyard, lay back in the rocking chair, and enjoyed the lazy calm of a weekend morning.
Yurna would usually use this time to tidy the living room, then water the flowers and plants in the courtyard.
Once she finished, she'd sit quietly on a stone bench in the front garden and read, ready to respond the moment Luke needed anything.
Lux and Sona, meanwhile, started a match of five-in-a-row.
Their skills had climbed to a fairly balanced level—wins were basically split down the middle. Fiora was still a little better than either of them.
Of course, the best was still Luke. In the short term, he was undefeated.
Though he could feel a little pressure creeping in.
After washing dishes, Fiora headed to the back courtyard to continue her morning training.
In this small little home, there was no shortage of fun—warmth everywhere you looked.
Luke lay in the rocking chair, letting it sway gently, listening to the soft click of pieces landing, feeling the morning breeze brush across his face.
Before long, drowsiness crept in. He closed his eyes, ready to drift back into a second round of sleep.
But only a moment after his eyes shut, he heard the sound of a carriage rolling by outside.
"Whoa—!"
With the horse's sharp whinny, the carriage stopped outside the courtyard.
Luke opened his eyes. At first he thought Kahina had come back, but what he saw instead was a carriage bearing the crest of House Lightshield.
Jarvan IV pulled up the curtain and stepped down, walking into the courtyard with a serious expression.
But his steps were weird—limping a little, and his posture was… awkward, like he was trying not to sit on something.
Luke blinked, surprised. "Brother, what happened to you?"
He could tell Jarvan IV had taken minor injuries.
But how?
Jarvan IV looked baffled and waved a hand. "Ugh. Yesterday that old woman snapped for no reason, stormed in, and demanded I spar with her."
He shook his head. "Your brother here respects his elders, alright? I couldn't go all-out. And then she kept kicking me right in the ass."
Luke went quiet for a beat.
That "old woman," without question, was Tianna.
Putting it together, Luke immediately understood the whole chain of events and, with a guilty conscience, glanced at Jarvan IV's backside in sympathy.
Sorry, brother. That one's on me.
Luke got up from the rocking chair. "I've been brewing some liquor lately. I'll send you a couple barrels in a few days."
"Oh?" Jarvan IV's eyes lit up. He looked genuinely delighted—and even a little moved. "See? I knew I wasn't good to you for nothing!"
Last time Luke had carried a barrel over to the fortress to drink and talk, Jarvan IV had learned one thing for sure: his younger brother could brew.
That liquor had been incredible.
He'd gotten so drunk that night he couldn't remember what they'd talked about, but that part didn't matter.
Looking at Luke now, Jarvan IV felt it deep down—this was what it meant to trade sincerity for sincerity.
He treated Luke with real care, and Luke returned it.
He barely got to enjoy that warm thought for two seconds before he remembered why he'd come. His face sobered.
"I'm here because there's something important you need to know."
Luke's expression sharpened too. "What is it?"
Jarvan IV said, "My stepmother's coffin has been brought back from the border town."
Luke froze.
Jarvan IV's stepmother… was Luke's mother.
Melli?
"It arrived this morning. I was at the palace, saw it, and came to tell you immediately," Jarvan IV said, eyes fixed on Luke.
Nearby, Lux and Sona—who had been playing—also lifted their heads and looked over.
Luke snapped back to himself. "We're going to the palace. Now."
A month and a half ago, the palace had sent people to Taren Town to bring Melli's remains back to the capital.
Luke hadn't expected it to be this fast. It had taken him two months to reach the capital, and that was one-way.
But the royals clearly had faster methods.
The moment Jarvan IV said that first line, Yurna had already started preparing the carriage, as if she'd practiced it a hundred times.
"I'm coming too," Lux said immediately, tossing down her piece and rushing over.
Sona also moved to go with them.
Luke decided to call Fiora from the back courtyard as well.
All four got into the carriage and headed straight for the palace.
After a short ride, the carriage slowed to a stop.
They stepped down and, at the entrance, saw Xin Zhao waiting for them.
"Xin," Luke greeted as he approached.
"Come with me," Xin Zhao said, giving Luke a look before turning to lead the way.
They walked for a while.
Then they entered a bright, spacious hall—open and wide, with a white, sacred stillness to it.
Soft sunlight poured down from above, spilling gently over a gray-brown coffin in the center.
Beside it stood Jarvan III and a number of others. Tianna was there too, along with Barrett Buvelle of House Buvelle, and Wenward Durand Menck of House Menck.
Many unfamiliar ministers were gathered in the hall as well.
Hearing the footsteps behind them, they turned. Their eyes quickly found Jarvan IV and Luke at the front.
Luke walked straight to the coffin and called out to Jarvan III, "Father."
Jarvan III didn't speak. He lifted a hand and ruffled Luke's hair, forcing a faint smile onto his face—one that held no joy, only quiet grief.
He looked like he'd cried. His eyes were red.
Those blue eyes were full of pain, so heavy it made your chest ache to see.
You could imagine how much it hurt—to have the coffin here in front of him.
Luke's gaze fell to the coffin, and he fell silent too, a distant look rising in his eyes.
Just like he remembered, this was the coffin he had personally chosen. Inside lay Melli's remains.
Now, seeing it again, Luke's mindset wasn't the same as when he'd left Taren Town.
Toward this woman—both unfamiliar and somehow familiar—his feelings were complicated.
He'd only truly spent three days with her.
The strongest image she'd left him was lying in bed, coughing day after day, as if she were going to cough out her heart and lungs—writhing in misery under illness.
After learning her story, Luke felt she had been a pitiable woman.
She ran from Noxus to fight fate, found true love but was blocked at every turn, and then left that love behind—spending eighteen years alone in a country where she had no one.
In those eighteen years, she gave birth, and she raised the child to adulthood.
And the child she'd raised through hardship couldn't bear the crushing weight of life and chose to end it—yet through a twist of chance, Luke ended up living again.
Without her, maybe there wouldn't be a Luke standing here now.
Luke placed his hand on the coffin and gently stroked it, like he was smoothing down tangled hair.
Then he murmured softly, "Mother."
It was a sincere call from the heart—and his final farewell to a woman who had endured too much.
Jarvan IV quietly rested a hand on Luke's shoulder, offering wordless comfort.
Behind them, Lux and the others looked at the coffin and couldn't help imagining a woman who had given everything for love.
Even in death, the "home" she returned to felt painfully simple.
A quiet sigh rose in their hearts.
Luke remembered the regret and longing in her eyes when she'd said goodbye to him.
And in that moment, he made a decision.
Maybe it was time to investigate the truth of the past.
Why had Melli chosen to leave alone, carrying an unborn baby?
How had she disappeared so completely, like she'd been erased from the world?
There was no doubt—someone had been pushing things behind the scenes back then.
Whoever they were… he needed to know.
Luke pulled his gaze back and looked at Jarvan III beside him. "Did you see her one last time?"
Jarvan III shook his head. The grief on his face made him look older, as if the years had caught up all at once. His hand rested on the coffin as he said softly, "I couldn't bear to disturb her final rest."
Nineteen years.
He hadn't seen Melli's face for nineteen years.
What remained in Jarvan III's mind was still the young, proud, brave girl from back then.
Every time he woke in the dead of night, whenever that pure smile surfaced in his mind, the pain would hit so hard he could barely breathe.
All these years, he'd wanted to see how she'd lived—what she'd become.
But now that her coffin was here before him, he didn't dare lift it and look even once.
He was afraid.
Afraid that when the lid opened, what he'd see would be the coward he used to be.
"I'll let you see her one last time," Luke said.
Then he gave an order to those behind him. "Bring paper and pens."
Jarvan III blinked, startled.
Tianna reacted immediately and repeated the command. "Bring paper and pens."
"Yes!"
Someone took off at once.
Not long after, they returned with stacks of paper and pens in many colors, and even brought over an easel.
"Your Highness, everything is ready," one of them said respectfully.
Luke nodded. He took the board, set it before the coffin, fixed the canvas in place, and held the pen poised… then stopped.
People watched him, confused, but no one dared make a sound.
Luke was flipping through broken fragments of memory, searching for the most beautiful version of Melli left inside his mind.
Seconds passed.
Then Luke moved.
He set ink to the blank canvas without hesitation, laying color onto the white with a sure hand.
And once he started, he never paused—stroke after stroke, as if he no longer needed to gather himself at all.
It was like the world had narrowed down to him alone.
Jarvan III lifted a hand, and the onlookers immediately stepped back.
Then the king himself took up a place beside Luke, standing guard close at hand.
Luke didn't know how to paint. He hadn't unlocked any such skill.
But he had steady hands.
And he had absolute focus.
The seriousness on his face moved the people watching more than they expected.
And something else felt strange:
The sunlight that should have been falling on the coffin now seemed to pour over Luke instead.
He looked holy—shining, dazzling, impossible to look away from after you'd seen him once.
In that moment, everyone present felt a faint daze.
Lux stared at Luke's focused profile and, without realizing it, got lost in it—unable to pull her eyes away.
Sona pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat tremble in response to the emotions surging in Luke's heart.
Even Fiora didn't blink, as if she were afraid that if she did, the image would vanish from her mind forever.
Time passed, minute by minute.
The canvas was large, and Luke worked carefully, earnestly.
It took a long time.
Nearly noon had gone by when his movements finally slowed. With one last stroke, the painting was finished.
On the canvas, a beautiful woman came alive—so vivid it felt as though she had stepped out of memory and into the world.
Jarvan III stared at the woman's face on the canvas and finally broke, tears spilling over.
In the painting, a young, beautiful woman wore a simple white dress. She stood in an endless green meadow, arms open, looking like she was smiling at you—like she wanted to pull you into an embrace.
Her skirt fluttered softly in the wind. Her dark hair flowed with it. Gentle sunlight rested on her face.
And on that beautiful face bloomed a smile so radiant it stole your breath.
It was only a painting, yet somehow everyone in the hall felt an overwhelming sense of happiness from it.
They could feel it—at that moment, the woman in the painting must have been truly happy.
"Is that… Queen Melli?"
"Yes. I've seen her once."
"She's so beautiful. That smile… it's contagious."
Because Jarvan III hadn't left, no one else had dared leave either. But now, everyone forgot how tired they were from standing so long.
All eyes were locked on the woman in the painting.
Whether they'd met Melli before or not, they were all stunned by her beauty.
"This is how I remember it from when I was little," Luke said, his voice much softer. "Mother was standing in the meadow, calling my name. I ran to her. She opened her arms to hold me."
It was only a fragment of memory, even a blurry one, yet it gave him a strange sense of reality.
Seeing that happy smile on Melli's face made Jarvan III's heart tighten even harder, like an invisible hand had closed around it.
He whispered through tears, "So… she once… had happiness like this, too."
Knowing the woman he loved had once smiled like that only made the pain worse.
If only…
If only he'd been there then.
Jarvan III lifted a hand, as if he wanted to touch her face on the canvas—but halfway there, he faltered.
He took a deep breath and lowered his hand.
Then he turned to the ministers behind him. "It's getting late. All of you, disperse."
Minister Roy bowed. "We take our leave."
"We take our leave."
After the ministers spoke in unison, they filed out, scattering through the palace.
Luke glanced at Jarvan III and knew the king only wanted to be alone right now. Luke bowed as well. "I'll withdraw."
Jarvan III looked at him with gentleness, then nodded.
Soon, the hall emptied.
Luke walked out to a nearby garden where there was a pavilion, found a spot, and sat down.
The painting had taken a lot out of him. But this was all he could do.
Jarvan IV sat beside him, staring up at the blue sky, eyes distant, thoughts unreadable.
He had feelings of his own.
At least Luke remembered what their mother looked like. At least he could recall moments with her.
But Jarvan IV… from the day he was born, he'd never seen her at all.
Everything he knew about her had come from other people, from portraits.
He'd grown up missing a mother's love.
Luke had grown up missing a father's love.
But Jarvan IV had still lived with far better circumstances—far, far better.
That was why, the first time he met Luke, he'd decided he would treat this brother well.
Not because of guilt, or pity, or any thought like, "His childhood should have been like mine."
But because Jarvan IV understood something clearly:
In this world, Luke was one of the few family members he had left.
The two brothers stared up at the sky together, each lost in his own thoughts.
Then a soft note drifted out.
Sona, feeling the currents in their hearts, began to weave a new melody. Her pale hands settled on the strings, and music flowed—touched with a little sorrow, but filled more with calm that soothed the soul.
A breeze swept through the garden, rustling the flowerbeds like accompaniment.
Everyone fell quiet and listened, sinking into the moment.
The music reached into the hall.
Inside, Jarvan III sat before the painting. Hearing the melody, he wiped the tears from his face.
Then he lifted his hand.
A figure appeared behind him at once—Xin Zhao.
And now, the warmth around Jarvan III vanished, replaced by the heavy authority of a king.
"How is the investigation into what happened back then?" he asked.
"Back then, there were too many people who opposed it, and too much time has passed," Xin Zhao reported. "The clues we've uncovered so far are very few."
Jarvan III stood, coldness filling his eyes. "Few or not, keep digging. No matter how hard it is, you will find every last person who acted with ill intent back then."
"Yes!" Xin Zhao answered sharply.
Thanks for the stones!
// 20 chapters today! I hope you enjoy it. The cover change is temporary, it's just to attract new readers and also show a some love to Sona fans. As always, thanks for the Power Stones!
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.