[Complete] Lux - Regal
A young girl once played in this pool. Crystal water lay still on tiles of gold and blue until, finally, it rippled. She stepped down into the water, clad in white silks. It brought relief to her aching bones. Golden hair had long since given way to gray, but blue eyes still burned under her aged brow. With a gesture, the many jewels that adorned her royal fingers began to glow, and tiny points of light danced between her hands. The ceiling lit up with rippling reflections, and stray glints of light chased shadows across the marble pillars that ringed the water. The old woman smiled, and remembered the carefree days of swimming. What that little girl saw in the reflections would become potent magic. First they would call her witch, then genius, then queen, then, quietly, monster. The scenes played out in the reflections: the joys, the disasters, then the endless panoramas of war.
Demacia had died that day. With the Institute of War gone, it had only been a matter of time until there was war with Noxus. The invasion slammed into the mighty shield of the Demacian army, commanded by none other than the newly coronated king. At his moment of triumph, he was set upon by a crack Noxian unit. He and his bodyguard fought with courage and fury, but at last they fell. Twenty knights lay among a thousand Noxian soldiers, fanaticism smothered by the cruel arithmetic of war. And Luxanna hadn’t just lost a king at that battle. Her brother also lay there, his sword plunged to the hilt in the enemy general.
At the news, the counsel sat silently. One counselor sputtered that they should sue for peace, that the kingdom could not fight while it mourned its king. It belied the real problem — that there was no heir. She didn’t remember standing up, nor did she remember what she said. She only remembered the surprised faces that offered impotent protests. The palace guard obeyed the Lady Crownguard and the holdouts relented. She raised twenty legions and smashed mighty Darius in the Siege of Demacia. Her magic reached new heights too. The heavens themselves opened up, and pillars of light burned whole battalions to cinders. She pursued them in their retreat.
A bit of stone dust fell into the water. Steam rose around her. The old woman sighed, and steadied her shaking hands. Even now, the light burned ferociously with the slightest loss of control. How many had died at its horrible brilliance, Luxanna could not say. At Nostramos, that cursed border citadel, she’d performed what many called a miracle. It shone brighter than ten suns, that mote of magic she’d launched into the walls. Stone itself surrendered before it, relinquishing the mortals within. When all was done, nothing remained, as though the very memory of Nostramos and the scores of wars fought over it never existed.
Luxanna had returned to the capital in triumph, and its people hailed her as queen and savior of Demacia. Never again would anyone sneer at the little Crownguard witch. But Demacia’s wars were not over. The Zaun campaigns took a decade. She couldn’t bring herself to put the hextech abominations they fought to image. Nightmarish visages burned themselves into the marble before she scoured them away. She cupped her hands in the water, then splashed it on her face. Her fingers passed over wrinkled skin and thin, wet hair. She shivered as a chill passed through her.
Of course, she had an heir. Little Celestine was impetuous and insolent, just like her father. But Luxanna had forbidden the girl from leaving the citadel after he died, fearful that his last gift might be taken away too. How many prayers she had said as she passed by the petricite colossus of the city for her daughter’s safety, when she herself had done everything she could do to suppress the magic that lay latent inside the girl.
“A girl.” she said out loud. Celestine was a woman now, a transformation she hadn’t seen. Luxanna had returned victorious from her third Noxian campaign to find the girl had locked herself in a tower in the palace. She’d left again before she could coax her out.
In the end, she stood before the walls of Noxus. The Noxian mages’ black sorcery nullified her powers. The siege dragged on; every morning she mustered everything to try to break the magical defenses of the city, only to be repulsed. After seven long years, the mighty undead champions sallied out from the gate against her exhausted knights to break the siege. The Demacian army would have faltered, except for a small force that broke through and fell upon the Noxian sorcerers. With no mages to stop her, she scoured the city with blazing light. The walls melted like ice, and the Noxian line broke. But when she returned in triumph for the last time, it was with only a quarter of the hundred-thousand Demacian gallants she set out with. The nobles mumbled in the shadows that perhaps the queen had gone too far.
And now she stood here, lost in history. The tears had long since run out amid her slaughtered legions, but the lights still danced around her fingers, intent on showing her the extent of her failures. Finally, a ball singed her and jerked her out of her reverie. It was all there now, etched into the marble of the room. Demacian knights marched around the columns. Half of the ceiling showed the purge of Noxus, the other half the obliteration of Nostramos.
A little girl paddled away in the pool. Luxanna reached out, but the steam consumed her. The water was hot, but a chill seeped into her. She slumped onto a step. The magic had taken everything from her.
The girl laughed, delighted at the sparks she saw in the reflections. The sound echoed from the silent walls.
Light faded before the shadows.
Replies
Also, I love the idea that Lux discovered the spark of magic by watching reflections in the water. I can almost see a little blonde girl splashing around in the Neptune Pool at Hearst Castle.