Forbidden

Chapter 12

Hey everyone, I'll be trying to update more frequently, but with school and work, that's going to be quite the challenge :p Anyway, so the reason that I put Hitler in my story is very simple: a comparison to show that Garen is a geek as well as a hero. Take it as you will, I love it.

So, the long awaited lemon. Hmmmm… I'll do it in this chapter (; Kat and Garen's last night together: oooo la la (;

REVIEWS. 1-2-3 Go!

Chapter 12:

The sweat ran down Garen's forehead. It shone as the sparkling moonlight flitted through the windows of the balcony doors and onto the two people's bodies that lay gently on the Egyptian cotton sheets of the bed. With trembling fingers, Garen stroked Katarina's soft skin taking in every smell, every feeling, and every touch. Her fingers gripped his hair, her lips at his ear, whispering how much she loved him and how wonderful he felt.

His body seemed to do the work for him as he thrusted with ease. Her body felt morally crushed underneath of his, but it was a feeling both of them had grown too accustomed too. As the sweat mixed, Garen's blue eyes closed and concentrated on the feel of Katarina. His lips parted to let her name out, with her parted in perfect harmony at the same time as his.

The calloused fingers ran over her body, stopping at her stomach and traveling back up to her cheek, where he kissed it tenderly before leaning his head against her shoulder and planting kisses down her damp neck. Her body roared in pleasure as she tilted into him, happily pressing up and down and in every direction, just to make the experience more enjoyable.

She grasped the back of his hair, pulling him down into her shoulder and neck, where he proceeded to leave marks in his lips' wake. Crying out, Katarina was sure the whole of Demacia could hear her… but let them hear. They had proven that a Noxian and a Demacian could fall in love and be together in harmony because this was nothing less than heaven for the both of them.

Garen pushed himself on his arms, so he was staring down into her emerald eyes, which were only open when he pushed in deeper. In his manhood's wake, her emeralds flashed open, her lips open wide, and then she would close them and softly moan his name. She would occasionally beg him for more, then quickly ask him to stop. The more she cried out, the more Garen thrusted, and the more Garen thrusted, the more they began to sweat.

Katarina scratched his back, her nails digging into his sweaty skin. He groaned and kissed her softly, and then her forehead before leaning back into the pillows by her shoulder and arching his back to meet her body. It was then that she screamed… but, it wasn't a battle cry. It was a cry of love and happiness, and fulfillment. Garen took this as his queue, and began to move faster and she got closer to her climax.

With the moans and the screaming, Garen knew it was time. With a gentle hand, he nodded and then their screams echoed across his golden walls. He had let his seed sink deep inside her, and then collapsed down next to her. With heavy breathing, the two looked to eachother and giggled, his smile assuring her that it was alright. What they did was natural, loving, and somehow, even though there was a war raging on the outside, it didn't matter. Everyone was at peace tonight.

Jarvan looked over his battle plans the next morning. His father, King Jarvan stood at the door of his son's study, unsure of how to tell his son what he thought of his recent actions. He sighed, noticing how deeply passionate he was about what he had just done. It took him awhile before he spoke, not realizing the coming severity of his actions.

"Jarvan – I can't allow you to march on Swain," he told him sternly.

Jarvan VI didn't turn around. "I knew you would come sooner or later."

"I won't allow you to begin a war," the King sputtered.

"I don't think you have much of a choice," the Prince said to his father and traced his pointer finger over his plans with precision.

"Jarvan, I cannot allow you to do this. You have to understand. As King, you are under my rule," he snapped fiercely at his son.

The Prince spun around, his eyes staring coldly into the mirrors of his own staring straight back at him. "No, I am your son, not a peasant that follows your rule. I'm not like mom: I won't follow everything you say because I'm afraid of you. You don't intimidate me, father. In fact, I make you look petty because I am compassionate, unlike you. The only reason Swain hasn't attacked us yet is because of me and my decisions. Yet, you think that all of this is because of your rule. It wasn't!

"Did you know that there are Noxians in the city? I can bet any amount of gold that you didn't because you are always locked up in your quarters, unenforced to the rest of the world, expecting to get credit for everything done in this kingdom! I have news for you, father. I've been running this kingdom since I was damn near seven years old, and even when I was immature, my decisions were still better than yours!

"So, if I want to march on Swain because of my own personal desires, allow me to do so because God knows your decisions are based on your own selfish wants. Let me run the kingdom like my great father for once, eh?'

With that, Jarvan VI pushed past his father with a look of rage on his face that made his father's heart grow cold. All this time, it had been Jarvan who sat in the corner and watched as he made the decisions of the kingdom. It was his son who had forced him into exile because the public thought he was the sweetest little boy from the moment he was born. His son had made him jealous of his popularity, and now he was calling the shots around the kingdom.

The prophecy had slowly crept into his mind as his son walked down the hallway. How in the the world did Jarvan sneak Noxians into the city? How did they enter without his knowledge? The thoughts of puzzlement crossed the King's mind. He had to stop this madness! After all, he was still the king. But, the moment he took a step forward, his son turned on his heel and faced him. His eyes stared harshly into his father's, narrowing and threatening.

"If you so much as touch Katarina and Talon, I will personally have you escorted to the dungeons of this castle. They've saved you in more ways than you can imagine. Count me as a traitor in your head, father, but don't push me," Jarvan threatened with ice in his voice. "Your regime has gone on for much too long. And about that damn prophecy – you may want to change your behavior or else it will come true."

The Prince spun on his heel, leaving his father to have his mouth hanging open and his face as pale as snow.