Legends of Runeterra

At that time, I was young and fearless, with a fire burning in my heart, which seemed to emit the light of justice and drive away all the clouds of worries. So that day I met Barrett Bouvier for the first time.

He stood silently beside King Jarvan III, who had been crowned fourteen days earlier. The herald called my name, and I strode into the Hall of Valor. Both young men flashed a fleeting look of approval—I knew I was attractive at my age, but I tried my best to conceal my beauty. The young king looked weary, perhaps bored with constantly dealing with the complaints of various noble houses.

Jarvan didn't speak immediately, waiting for Barrett to whisper something in his ear. I could only see Barrett's left side, his body leaning toward the king. It was then, and always was. "Lestara de Moishe," Jarvan's voice boomed and echoed off the enchanted stone and marble walls of the vast hall. "What brings you here today?"

"For your inaction."

I remember them perking up instantly. Jarvan's eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching into his crown. Barrett's eyes widened as well, and he placed a hand firmly on the king's shoulder.

"I'm doing nothing?" Jarvan asked, half puzzled, half jokingly. "What am I doing nothing about? It's only been fourteen days since the coronation. How much could I possibly have done in that time?"

"You have been king for two weeks, and you still have not cared about the suffering of your subjects."

He glanced upward, thinking he'd figured me out. He must have grown tired of the many noble ladies who had come to the king these days, hoping to elevate themselves and their families. "I cannot crown a member of the Demoiselle family without reason. I've said the same thing many times to the other audiences today. If you serve the kingdom with military merit..."

"I'm not talking about the nobility."

The first time Barrett faced me, his face was filled with surprise. I still remember the gleaming armor on his body, the distinguished Barrett family crest emblazoned in the center of his chest. It shone like a diamond. Like his eyes.

"So who are you talking about..." Jarvan asked curiously, "Who is it?"

This was the question I'd been waiting for. I cleared my throat, for I had a long speech to make. I began by untying the necklace from my shirt, revealing the candle symbol of the Illuminator. "Your people," I said in a sharp voice, "are homeless and jobless, yet you turn a blind eye to them and do nothing for them, spending all your time mediating disputes between noble families. There are many kind and honest people who can only sleep on the streets or hide in granaries. If you truly want to make your kingdom a better place, you must put these people first... not those who already have enough food and clothing."

Both of them were speechless for a moment, and then Barrett burst into laughter, his laughter echoing through the palace and finally lingering in my red, burning ears. Embarrassment choked me like a huge stone in the stomach.

Then he came toward me. I stepped back defensively, but he was walking very fast. He took my hand and said...

Well. Unfortunately, I can't recall exactly what he said. My memories are incredibly clear at certain times in my life, and blurry at others. The gist of it was that he would personally oversee a plan to house all struggling Demacians. Jarvan III was speechless at his old friend, clearly unprepared for the promise he had just made.

But once Barrett spoke his mind, he would do his utmost to see it through properly. So he simply glanced at his childhood friend, and the king nodded in agreement. "Rescue efforts for these people should have been initiated long ago," the king said, a look of approval in his eyes. "Thank you for pointing this out to me. Lord Bouvier and I will expedite the implementation of this plan."

Blushing, I stared at my hand, held by Barrett. His fingers gently curled around the tip of my palm. Though I was young at the time, I knew him for who he was. He was the young king's right-hand man, and he understood the king's heart better than anyone else. A king could draw a sword for this man, and a king would even more so take it.

"What pains me most is that we have waited so long," said Barret Bouvier, smiling, "to begin to do what must have seemed so obvious to you, Lestarla de Moisé."

This was the first time I heard him pronounce my full name.

The last time was six weeks ago.

I never heard him call my name again.

Three weeks ago, I became a widow, but it still doesn't feel quite...real.

Whenever Barret leaves home to support the soldiers, he doesn't return for a long time. Usually, three months. Sometimes, I'll take Kashina to visit him on the front lines, helping him distribute food and supplies, and comforting the Demacian soldiers who risk their lives fighting for us. But it's not often.

This time, I always felt that he might walk into the house at any time, with a sad face, grieving for the hardships of the young soldiers and the families who had to bear the pain of losing their sons.

He was a priest. It was not his turn to sacrifice on the battlefield.

Of course, Barrett wasn't the only martyr. They told me it was an unwinnable battle. Even the Dauntless Vanguard were thwarted by the enemy's might. Everyone thought it was impossible until it happened. The place where my husband and so many others died is known as Mourning's Gate, and it's a well-deserved name.

The king planned to hold a funeral as soon as Barrett's body was returned. I told Jarvan he needed to mourn the fallen marshal first, that his love for my husband shouldn't overshadow his duty to others, especially those who had served with their swords and souls. But the real reason was that I couldn't bear the dreadful feeling that if the funeral were held, he would truly be dead.

But I can't postpone the funeral forever. Today, I must find the strength to say goodbye.

I rejected Barrett's first four proposals to me.

My heart ached for him, and I asked him, "My answer will not change, so why do you keep asking?"

"It's because your answers never change that I have to keep asking," Barrett said with a smile. This patient smile had endeared me ever since our first meeting, years ago. That time, he took me to the gardens beside the palace, where the blue sky and lilies danced in his clear eyes. I must admit, the foreshadowing was even more romantic than the previous three times.

"You know very well why I can't agree to this." When I was young, I promised myself that I would join the Order of the Illuminators and help those in need, providing them with food and jobs, listening to their stories, and perhaps even learning some healing methods to relieve their pain.