Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jayce is weary. Very weary. It has been a long, unsuccessful mage hunt. He tries to appreciate the sight of the sun as it peaks over the horizon, casting the early morning sky in a gentle pink.

By design, one would never guess their small group belonged to the Royal Guard or that the passenger inside the worse-for-wear carriage they ride beside is the Princess of Piltover. Since the death of the king, they’ve remained cautious.

His exhaustion is only deterred by a bitter cold. Even his horse, a black mare named Zinc, seems tired. Jayce pats her neck.

Only Vi and Loris accompany Jayce as guards. A tired carriage driver with a penchant for snoring, Mina, wipes at her eyes with her free hand. They plan to finally be back in Piltover by tomorrow afternoon. Vi stretches and yawns, holding her reigns in one hand and arching her back.

“Say… Talis. Loris. You wanna play a game to pass the time? We look for objects that start with each letter of the alphabet, and the person who makes it to the end of the alphabet first wins. Like, look. If I saw an apple, I’d point to that apple and say I found ‘A for Apple, ’ then move to B, and then I’d point to Jayce, ‘B for bastard.’”

Jayce rolls his eyes. Loris bursts into laughter.

“Will you quiet?” Caitlyn snaps, peaking her head out from inside the carriage, holding the curtains open. “We’ve been on the road for merely an hour, and you’re already giving me a headache!” She promptly shuts the curtains before anyone can respond. Vi immediately deflates.

Since the attack, Caitlyn has changed. The once-kindhearted Princess has grown cold. She seems solely focused on revenge against the person responsible: a mage named Jinx. Caitlyn had already been hunting Jinx as a part of her rite of passage. Legend claims that the Kirammans have a Gods given gift in their blood. They are able to slay them with precision - as they have a resistance to their magic. Each Kiramman must slay a mage before ascending to High Monarch. Caitlyn has yet to do so.

Any form of sorcery is strictly forbidden in Piltover. Mages have laid ruin to their realm more times than history can count.

Jayce has had experiences with mages that have made him question the rite. During the attack, a close friend of his, Mel, revealed herself as a mage, protecting him and many others from further harm. She quickly vanished before anyone could capture her. The final words she ever said to him were, "Don't follow."

The crown has tried to keep this secret as having a top political advisor be a secret mage would look absolutely terrible. He knows there are still search parties trying to find her. He hopes they never will.

At least he knows this ‘Jinx’ deserves what’s coming to her.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They rest for a moment to eat and allow the horses to cool off.

“Good job, girl,” Jayce says to Zinc as he loosens her girth.

“You know they can’t understand you, right?” Vi snorts through a mouth full of jerky.

Vi was raised at a ‘Youth of the Royal Crown’ Academy, a school for wayward orphans that trains them to be knights, handmaids, and servants of the crown. She no doubt knows not to do things like chew with her mouth open or slouch as she sits, but she does so anyway. A small rebellion Jayce doesn’t quite understand yet respects all the same.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jayce says, scratching Zinc’s forehead before she leans down to munch on some grass.

Caitlyn, usually one to socialize, remains quiet in the carriage. Jayce goes to check on her. When he pulls back the curtain, he finds her frantically writing a note.

“What are you doing?” Jayce asks.

“Writing to the Demacian Queen,” she responds. “I’m requesting aid in our hunt for Jinx and the Firelights.”

“Does your mother know of this?”

“I know what I’m doing, Jayce,” she snaps. “What, do you truly believe I need political advice from my guard?”

Jayce clenches his jaw. She’s grieving, he tells himself. He and Caitlyn were not so much raised as Princess and Guard but as close childhood friends. She is not herself.

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” Jayce says. “I won’t disturb you.”

“Good.”

Jayce flings the curtain shut.

Right before they continue their Journey, Caitlyn speaks again.

“How long until our arrival?”

“With our current pace, tomorrow before supper, My Lady,” Mina says.

Cait glares.

“It’s a full moon tonight, yes?”

Jayce knows what she’s implying. That they should ride at night so as to get to Piltover earlier. There’s no fighting the Princess’s orders, so they continue on despite the exhaustion.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They try to keep themselves energized with stories. But eventually, as the night continues, they go quiet.

The final two hours of their journey are through the great, sprawling woods west of Piltover. Massive trees surround them, casting shadows on the moonlit path. The air smells of soft pine and cedar. All is well, but Jayce has come to learn that no peace goes undisturbed.

Jayce notices something blocking the path ahead. He commands the party to halt, then dismounts to get a closer look. As he gets closer, the bile rises in his throat. He knows what he’s looking at the moment he can see its shape in the dark.

Strewn across the dirt path, limbs bent in ominously unnatural sharp angles, is a body. A man - a merchant likely in the midst of bringing a cart of oranges into the city. He lies mutilated on the ground. His cart is tipped over and splintered by the tree line. Oranges strewn everywhere.

Vi also dismounts to help investigate. She grabs an orange from the ground and pockets it.

“What?” she whispers as Jayce looks at her. “They’re tasty.”

Jayce wishes that, after so many years of bearing witness to death, of killing, it would become easier to look upon it. The corpse is… shredded, its chest ripped apart with deep claws.

An icy dread overcomes him. He knows exactly what did this. Jayce touches the top of the man's head. Still warm.

He knows, with a palpable, grave certainty, that they are all in terrible danger.

“Wraith,” Jayce whispers. Loris and Vi immediately tense.

He notices Caitlyn peeking out from the curtains, cautious. The only way to kill a shimmer wraith is by decapitating it. Cait is an archer. She simply cannot help.

An encounter with a shimmer wraith is nearly always fatal. Undead creatures with a vile Zaunite potion sustaining them after death. Once-human experiments of a mad scientist in Zaun. Elongated claws. A wretched stench. Puffed-up grey flesh. Bright purple veins.

They’re drawn to the scent of blood like moths to a flame. Sometimes massive and lumbering. Sometimes small and agile. Always brutally strong.

As quietly as they can, Vi and Jayce set the body to the side. They then make the effort to move the cart as well so they can continue down the path. Slowly, carefully. Vi grabs its wooden handles on one side. Jayce grabs onto the other. They lift, then:

CRACK.

The damaged cart splits in two. The remaining oranges inside spill out in sickening thuds, bouncing down the hillside. When Vi stares at him, she has an expression Jayce has never seen on her—one of pure terror.

In the distant woods, a clattering sound. Then, the trees start to move as if jostled by a creature of significant strength—a creature … headed in their direction.

“Is that…?” Caitlyn’s voice sounds from the carriage. Mina makes a beeline inside. Jayce braces himself and draws his sword. Vi climbs up on a boulder for the higher ground. “Stay in the carriage,” Jayce says, zeroing in on the trees.

“I could at least-”

“Cait -”

In that split, distracted second, the shimmer wraith bursts out of the trees, snarling and whining and moving with a terrifying lack of purpose. It’s far taller than any wraith he’s seen. Slender. Vi leaps off the rock, poised to strike, but it grabs her by the throat midair. It then flings her a sickening distance down the path. Gods.

Loris, still on horseback, takes a swing. The wraith shoves him and his horse aside as if they weigh nothing; his horse topples—Loris with it. The wraith then stumbles backward toward the carriage...

towards Caitlyn.

Jayce is too far to help. He only has one trick left.

Just beneath the surface of his skin, Jayce has what these creatures are drawn to the most: blood. Caitlyn stabs the wraith in the eye. It stumbles backward.

Jayce removes his glove and cuts into his own palm.

The beast scents it immediately.

Jayce runs.

He hears Cait and Loris yelling after him. Hears the unmistakable sound of the beast giving chase. Its damaged eye gives Jayce a slight advantage in the dark woods, branches flying past him, scraping him as he goes.

He cannot outrun this beast for long. But he can hold true to his Oath.

Above all bonds. Above body and blood. I will protect the crown.

Even in the face of certain death.

He hears the wind rush past his ears, his own ragged breath, his thundering heartbeat. The creature gets close enough that Jayce can hear its own belabored grunts. Smell the acrid scent of decay.

Something scratches into his neck - a claw - Jayce lurches forward - Then - then -

He’s falling.

His body continuously collides with a harsh, hard cliffside. He has no control over what’s next. Where he lands or how far he’ll fall. There’s a sharp sting of branches hitting him as he tumbles. Then -

Agony. Surging, surging, surging through him like a malicious wave that never recedes. His leg. His leg.

It hurts so terribly that he only briefly registers, slamming into the hard, unforgiving stone ground before the dark night bleeds into a murky, soundless black.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

A blue dawn. A bird on a nearby branch. The sound of a stream nearby. He’s alive. It all could have been over, and now, a horrible death awaits him should he not act, one too horrible even for him to pursue. He looks at the source of the pain - his leg. He gasps, a fresh new wave of horror coming over him when he sees his bone sticking out of his skin.

He does not know how long it’ll take for help to arrive. For him to be found.

He does know, with certainty, that the longer his bone stays out, the more likely his leg will rot. In a sheer, terrified high, Jayce sits up, feels for the bone, and pushes it downward with an agonizing snap.

The pain is so white hot and all-consuming that he would do anything to cease it. The world fades at the edges. He happily gives in to the waiting dark of unconsciousness.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The following hours come in hazy, pain-drenched patches.

Caitlyn, teary-eyed, crouching over him.

He wants his Ma. Then -

“We’re having Mina ride ahead. She’ll get your Mother. You’ll see her soon,” Vi says somewhere very far away. He didn’t know he called for her out loud.

He has no idea how much time has passed, but the next thing he knows, he’s getting lifted. Someone has hands at the base of his knees. He hears his own screaming before he realizes that the sound is coming from him.

“Stop!” Cait screams. “You’re hurting him!”

They have to push forward.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

He wakes in the carriage, leaning back against the wall, with his leg lying on the bench.

“H-hey,” Caitlyn’s voice trembles as she speaks. “We’ve got you. We’re close.”

He doesn’t want her to know just how much pain he’s in, though he suspects he’s given this away over the course of the ordeal.

“Hey, Sprout.”

Caitlyn starts to cry.

“Jayce. We’re getting you help, alright? You’ll be alright. You’ll be alright. You lost a lot of blood, and your leg is… well. But you’ll be alright. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, and I - ”

“Don’t, Cait. It’s not. It’s fine. I’m just… a little worse for wear.”

Caitlyn laughs a little.

“I hate you,” she says, meaning the opposite.

Each bump of the carriage on the road is a new layer of pain. When he feels the dirt road turn into the cobblestone of Piltover, it's both an immeasurable relief and a terrible burden on his leg. Outside the window, he sees the familiar white and gold of the royal court’s buildings shining in the sun. Caitlyn continues to reassure him. He remains terribly awake.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Finally, finally, the carriage comes to a halt outside the royal palace.

“I’ll see him for myself first,” someone says. A smooth voice. Soothingly calm. A thick accent he cannot place. “Lest, prepare the transport. Is he in pain?”

“A lot,” Vi says. Caitlyn squeezes Jayce's hand in a little goodbye, then leaves to make room for the incoming apothecary. 

Someone tosses a medical bag in first.

“A hand? Take my crutch.”

“Yes, sir,” Vi says distantly. There’s a small grunt, and then. Honey-colored eyes. Razor-sharp cheekbones. The smell of mint and sage.

“Hello, Sir Talis,” the man says. For a brief second, Jayce swears he’s died. Jayce knows that the people of Zaun used to call their new Apothecary The Man of Miracle for his ability to save lives. However, he looks like one too.

“... hello.”

The man takes a look at his leg. He frowns. Expressive.

“I’m going to help you, alright? Did you put the bone back in yourself?”

“Mmm..hmmm.” Jayce grits his teeth.

“We need to move you… obviously. Would you like me to give you something for the pain? It may make you a bit out of sorts, and it could put you to sleep -”

“Please. Please.”

The apothecary pulls out a glass bottle from his belt, which contains various tonics and medicines.

“Head back,” he says. Jayce obeys. “The taste can be... eh.. overwhelming. Best just to get it past your tongue and then swallow. Open your mouth?”

Jayce does. With a clinical precision, soft hands grab at his chin. He feels the glass of a tincture in his mouth. Feels the liquid. Chokes a bit but - oh…

The effect is instantaneous. Like he’s the best kind of drunk but happier. The pain is still present, but it feels like more of a constant jabbing than an endless agony. The apothecary is saying something to someone outside.

“They’re going to get you on the carrier now, Jayce. They’ll get you upstairs.”

“Don’t go…” Jayce says, not really knowing why. He’s just so…

The man frowns for a moment.

“I’ll be here.” He says. “I’ll follow right behind. When they lift you... you might feel…”

The apothecary starts saying something. But he has this mole that sits so pretty under his eye. And one right above his lip. He’s like a fine painting. Everyone has been so busy bickering about the fact that he’s a Zaunite that nobody said anything about his beauty... bards should be singing songs in his honor. He wasn’t warned.

“...pretty...”

The apothecary pauses mid-sentence. His eyes go wide. Then, he smirks.

“You’re feeling the effects of the medicine, I take it?”

“Mmm…”

The apothecary looks to someone outside of the carriage.

“Sir Talis is ready; you can begin to move him!”

Before Jayce knows it, he is gone. Someone picks him up by the arms. By the sheer body odor alone, he surmises it’s Loris. Someone else grabs at his legs. This time, the pain of it is mixed with the dizzying effect of the medicine is enough to finally allow him to greet the black of sleep.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When he wakes, his Mother hovers over him, holding his hand and stroking his hair. He’s in a bed. He’s been rid of everything but his underclothes. He’s in what feels like a state of delirium. But his Mother is here. His Mother is here.

“Oh, baby,” his Mother says.

“Ma…” he thought he was going to die without her. He thought he was going to break her heart.

“I’m so sorry,” Jayce says. He tightens his grip around her hand as if she’s keeping him from falling. 

“Whatever for? I’m here. I’m here...Jayce?”

He feels like fading again. Feels like he’s floating.

“Vi and Caitlyn?” Jayce asks, realizing they aren’t there.

“Speaking with the queen. Loris is updating the guard.”

The world is odd and fuzzy at the edges. He feels a strange amount of … bliss that must be due to the medicine.

The apothecary appears above his bedside like an angel. He has such kind, beautiful eyes. Jayce smiles at him.

“You have a significant amount of scratches, as well as those deep wounds on your neck and palm. This will sting, but it’ll help with the healing process and will help ensure your wounds are clean. Lest is getting everything prepared to put your leg in plaster. She’ll be back soon. In the meantime, please stay still.” He looks at his Mother. “It… may be helpful to get Sir Talis here a change of clothes before we secure the splint.”

Jayce. Just Jayce.

His Mother nods. Jayce’s world begins to get less hazy.

“Will you be alright, honey?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. The pain still radiates from his leg.

“I’m going to start now, if that’s alright, Sir Talis?” The apothecary says.

“...Jayce.”

“Alright then… Jayce, may I begin?” Jayce’s name sounds so good coming from him that he barely registers the question.

“What is your name? Unless you want me to call you Man of Miracle, then I’d like to know it.”

The man’s eyes widen. He’s flustered.

“Oh! No- no need for that…It’s Viktor.”

Viktor begins with the cut on Jayce’s palm.

“You seem to be more… aware. Do you remember anything between the fall and now?”

“A little? I remember you in the carriage.”

Viktor coughs, taking a look at the cut on Jayce’s hand.

“I’ve already treated the wound on your neck. You lost a lot of blood. Do you remember how you got it?”

“Your eyes… are they… gold?”

Viktor focuses on his palm.

“I know you are feeling a bit unwell. But I ask you to focus. Alright?”

Anything for him. Jayce nods.

“Good. Now, how did you get the cut on your neck?”

He called me good. The proximity is intoxicating. He’s feeling very warm. Jayce hisses when Viktor applies something to his wound. He focuses.

“It was the wraith,” Jayce says. Viktor’s eyes widen.“It scratched me during the chase.”

“Mmm. Hence some of the black bile. We will keep close watch of it.”

He smells like mint and sage still. His hair looks soft.

“I understand your need to protect the Princess, but there are plenty of other places you could have cut yourself. Slicing through your palm is a bit dramatic, no?”

Jayce, barely coherent and still in more pain than he could even fathom mere hours ago, stares at Viktor as he carefully bandages his hand. He has such soft, nimble fingers. Jayce blinks, trying to remember what he was even going to say.

“Do you speak to all of your patients in this manner? Or just your favorites?”

The man says nothing, but as he sits back up, Jayce can detect a hint of amusement there. And a little red on his cheeks.

Viktor doesn’t say much more as he works, but Jayce is more than happy to just sit in his space.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When Lest walks in, she has some supplies in her hands. The Vastaya quickly sets them to the side an comes up to him. Puts a hand on his forehead and strokes his hair. He met Lest through Mel. The last time he saw Lest, she was trying to see if Jayce knew anything about where Mel could have gone. He didn’t.

“How are you?”

“I’m faring well,” Jayce lies. “Hopefully, I wasn’t too difficult.”

Lest smirks, one of her large, catlike ears twitching with amusement. “Never.”

Lest and Viktor get to work on Jayce’s leg. It’s an agonizing process. One he grits his teeth through. Once they get a layer of plaster on and dried, Ximena helps Jayce into the new clothing. His leg is put into a splint, then into some sort of wooden cradle, which gets lifted up a little bit by a rope attached to the ceiling.

He’s given some more medicine. He's barely cognizant when Caitlyn comes to visit, all apologies. Vi is there, but at her guard post, unable to communicate much while on duty.

Jayce spends a good amount of time asleep, the medication doing its work.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

He wakes up to the feeling of something cold against his neck. He finds an empty hand on his bedside. Grabs it absentmindedly. The person tries pulling away - which is distressing. He feels odd. Hot and cold at the same time.

“Jayce, honey,” his Mother says, voice coming from somewhere not quite right. “Let go of the poor man’s hand. He’s trying to fix you up.”

Jayce looks up to find Viktor standing by his bedside, staring at him. Oh, dear. He lets go of Viktor’s hand. Any embarrassment gets quickly soothed by the medicine.

“Stay still,” Viktor coughs. “I’m applying a poultice to this wound on your neck. Sorry to wake you. It appears to be causing a rot. It could not wait.”

Jayce stays still. He watches as Viktor returns to his desk once finished.

A little tabby cat jumps up on the windowsill, meowing. Viktor ‘tsks’ at her as she tries to eat the white Moonlilys planted in a little pot by Viktor’s windowsill, then coos at her and gives her some treats. He pets her little head while she bumps it happily into his hand.

Sunlight streams in through the large windows. Unlike most of the places in the castle with marble floors and walls, the infirmary has far more practical oak floors. It gives a warmth to the room.

There are only around a dozen beds lined up in two rows. On the one next to him lies Jayce’s armor and sword. At the end of the room closest to Jayce's bed, there’s a large desk facing away from the window, as well as multiple tables full of various medicinal plants. Some plants hang from the ceiling. Various bottles and jars full of different medicines rest on several shelves along the wall. A little door to the side leads to what Jayce knows to be the apothecary’s quarters.

Viktor sits in the center of it, flipping through tomes. It’s a beautiful space. And there are no other patients, so it's quiet.

When Viktor has Lest send out a letter of “utmost importance,” Jayce stops worrying about his leg so much despite the pain of it and starts worrying about that damned scratch.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

After many reassurances on Jayce’s end. Jayce’s Mother leaves to get some sleep of her own. She grabs him some of his belongings before she goes. The book he’s been reading. His journal. A pen and some ink.

With the help of some tea that Viktor hands him with a soft “drink,” he gets a couple of hours of sleep. It’s difficult. Not only is the pain still present, but he’s deeply uncomfortable holding his position in the bed. He can barely move with the way his leg is propped up.

When he wakes, it’s to the sound of soft voices.

The pain is much, much worse. The world feels much more clear. The familiar, ever-present weariness has returned. There's a new, radiating heat coming from the scratch on his neck. 

“... I’ll see what I can find. Is it really… that bad? ,” someone says. Vi?

Jayce opens his eyes to find Vi and Viktor leaned against the large window behind his desk, illuminated by the moonlight.

“Thank you. It’s… concerning.” Viktor says. “I’d advise you to use caution.”

Jayce stirs enough to get their attention. Vi spots him and heads to his bedside.

“Hey, friend…” she says quietly. He can see the genuine concern in her eyes. “I just came to check on you off duty. Figured you’d be asleep.”

“What do you need to find?” Jayce asks.

“Some herbs for a few medicines that might help. They only grow in Zaun,” she says.

At the sight of Viktor headed towards his bedside, the memory of Jayce’s behavior on the medicine comes back to him. Calling him pretty. Holding his hand. Talking about his eyes. Oh gods.

“How are you feeling, Jayce?”

“It uhh… I’m alright.”

Viktor raises a brow, clearly not believing him. “We’ll do what we can to ease the discomfort. Would you like some pain medicine? I can give you the heavier concoction we’ve been using, or we can give you something that’ll make you more … lucid.”

“The… the lucid one, if you will,” Jayce coughs. Viktor studies him. Jayce squirms. He needs to apologize. Just not in front of Vi.

“Very well,” he says. He goes to get more medicine. Jayce watches him go. He has these beautiful light strands in his hair. Slight hips. Jayce notices a chess set near his desk. He wonders if he can convince Viktor to play.

“Gods, Talis,” Vi says.

“What?”

“Nothing. How are you faring?”

“I’m truly alright.”

“Good. Well, the Queen sends her regards.”

“Oh, really?” Jayce asks. Will this reflect poorly on him? Will his inability to slay the beast be considered a breaking of his Oath?

“Don’t worry,” she says, knowing how his mind wanders. “Nobody blames you. Loris and I managed to bring the wraith down. Your Oath is intact.”

Viktor comes back with the tincture.

“Open,” Viktor says.

Jayce tries to breathe and not think too hard when Viktor gives him his medicine. He notes Viktor’s gaze seems distant, elsewhere. The taste of this medicine is less bitter. Viktor heads back to his desk.

“How are the horses?”

Vi tenses.

“Zinc…. She’s … lost, Jayce. She never came back, and we had to get you to safety.”

Zinc has been such a calming force for him. In the midst of fights he despises and violence he so desperately hates to inflict, Zinc has been a calming presence for him.

Jayce quickly tries to wipe away tears. It’s all too much. It’s all been so much. 

“She could… she could return.”

That far away from home… it’s an impossibility. It’s likely she was claimed by some hungry beast in the night.

Vi gives him an awkward, gentle hug that Jayce gratefully returns, flinching when he has to move his leg in order to bring his friend closer. When they pull apart, Jayce notices Viktor watching him from his desk, staring as if he’s one of his fascinating plants that line the windowsill - as if he’s something to be studied - better understood.

Viktor looks away when Jayce catches him. Jayce tries to breathe.

He hates being back in his head.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

In the morning, he wakes to that immediate pain, slightly lesser and dulled. He’s surprised yet thankful the nightmares didn’t come. There is a horrible throbbing coming from the wound on his neck. He feels strangely cold.

The morning passes at an agonizing pace. He feels like a doll. Being in such a state means all of your bodily functions are within the care of others. It’s humiliating. Lest graciously tends to him while Viktor works with a certain frantic energy at his station. After Lest is done with Jayce, she goes to check for letters and get into a change of clothing.

“The shimmer wraith,” Viktor says as a good morning. “The wound it left… it’s not responding to any of my medicines. We’re working on a solution right now.”

“And if you don’t find one?”

“I’m not sure..” Viktor says, “It is incredibly rare one survives an encounter with a shimmer wraith. We’ve been struggling in our research. All we know is you won’t become one. They are made through a much more gruesome process.”

Viktor sits down by his bedside. Jayce knows, just by the way he’s looking at him, what Viktor thinks will happen.

Death.

And just when he began to think he was safe. 

He is terrified only of the ways his absence would hurt those he’d leave behind.

“You think I’ll die, don’t you?”

“... I’m uncertain.”

Jayce just nods. Viktor frowns.

“I am doing everything I can. I’ve sent word to an old colleague who should know plenty about the subject. I just want to be transparent. There’s also the matter of your leg -”

“Wait,” Jayce says. “Before Lest comes back or anybody comes in. I want to apologize.”

Viktor blinks. Confused.

“I was… deeply inappropriate yesterday.”

Viktor’s eyebrows raise. He seems flustered again. Jayce swallows.

“Oh… Sir. Talis, it’s quite alright. You are far from the worst case I’ve seen on or off the medication.”

“Jayce- still, you can just call me Jayce.”

Viktor takes a breath.

“Right, of course. Alright, Jayce. Well, I need to tell you about your leg.”

Viktor does not tell him anything particularly surprising. He should stay in the infirmary for at least a week, almost completely on bedrest aside from the occasional stretches. It will likely take more than an entire season for Jayce to recover.

He also learns that it’s unlikely he’ll ever have the same use of his leg, especially with how the bone was set.

There is a sort of dam in his head, preventing the reality of any of this from fully breaking through.

Who would he be without the knighthood? How could he be of use?

“Will I - will I be able to fight? Once I’m recovered?”

“..I’m… I’m not sure yet. We need to let your leg heal. Soon, we’ll have you do some exercises to keep the muscle from fading. There are ways one can fight with an impeded leg. You’d be surprised. I myself can wield a blade in dire circumstances.”

Jayce’s mind unhelpfully conjures up an image of Viktor deftly wielding a rapier. He warms.

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news,” Viktor says.

“Viktor...I used to be a scholar. I’m aware you are doing all you can.”

Viktor's shoulders slump a bit as if in relief. Jayce looks at the chessboard.

“If I’m having such an extended stay, we should play chess,” Jayce says. Viktor raises a brow.

“I do not play chess with patients.”

“And why not?”

“Because it's demoralizing when they lose,” he smirks before grabbing his crutch and standing up. Jayce swallows, watching as the sunlight streams in, bouncing off the marble. He wants nothing more than to play him. He might have finally found someone who could take him.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When Lest returns, she has a nervous look. Trepidatious. She walks over to Jayce. She has a letter in her hands. The front simply says Jayce Talis. The handwriting seems familiar.

Very familiar.

“This was slipped under my door,” she says. Jayce sees the way Viktor looks up from his desk, furrowing his brow at their whispering. Clearly curious. Jayce opens it immediately. Yes. That’s her handwriting. He almost chokes on the relief. Theres a little indent in the parchment as if from some sort of waxless stamp. Some flecks of dirt.

“Is it her?” Lest whispers. Jayce nods, frantic. Unable to speak yet. The anxiety about Mel’s fate has been plaguing them both.

My warmest wishes to you, Jayce. I have heard you have been terribly hurt, and I knew I had to get this to you. I apologize for not writing sooner. It is unsafe for the both of us. I figured the circumstances warranted this.

I promise you, I was unaware of my affliction. It appears my Mother perhaps tried to find a way to keep it suppressed. In that moment of fear, it came to the surface. I promise you I am no monster. The instinct was protective.

Thank you for being there for me in that strange, beautiful city I did my best to call home. It truly felt like it before I had to go.

While I cannot say much more, I promise I am safe and well. I hope nothing but the same for you.

Wishing you the fastest of recoveries.

M

P.S I know you’re a man of sentiment, but I assume you understand the necessity that this must be destroyed when read.

P.P.S - Send my warmest regards to Lest. I quite miss her company.

Jayce hands it to her. Lest reads over it.

“She’s… she’s alive.”

“This was slid under your door?”

“There has to be… someone within the castle who has access to her. Or at least someone who knows where she is. I’ll listen out for anything. I just -" 

Lest sniffs, stopping herself. 

"Lest.. contiue." 

Lest leans in, making sure Viktor is out of earshot. 

"It's more of the same. How could she be a mage, Jayce? She's.. kind of heart." 

Jayce doesn't understand it himself. Mages harbor an evil. The arcane cannot exist within the human without becoming a corruptive force. Protection from them is one of the tenants Piltover was founded on.

"I..." what is he supposed to say? That he's questioned the idea since he was saved by a mage as a boy? "Perhaps we know less than we think we do. Perhaps there are some rare exceptions." 

Lest sighs and nods, eyes narrowing in thought. 

Jayce allows himself a few more reads before handing it to Lest to dispose of. A warm relief easing the pain of his leg - the wound - the strange fever.

“Good news, I hope?” Viktor asks from his desk. He’s looking at his papers as if to hide his curiosity.

“Yes,” Jayce says. “Very.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

It is not long before Viktor walks over with a new concoction.

“I will not lie, Jayce. This will hurt.”

He gives very little warning before applying it to the back of his neck. Jayce’s entire body feels it. A hot discomfort.

“We should know in around three hours how effective it will be,” Viktor says. “Is there anything else you need in the meantime?”

“Yes, there is something I need. Extremely so.”

Viktor looks concerned.

“A game of chess.”

Viktor raises a brow. Gods, Jayce wants to play. Needs the distraction. His leg is still aching. His body is sore. Besides, he needs to know this man almost as much as he needs the stinging pain to stop.

“I told you… I don’t play chess with patients,” Viktor repeats. He continues to walk back to his desk, carefully untucking his hair from where it's stuck in his cloak with his free hand.

“Who says I’ll lose?”

“You would lose.”

“Seems like you’re afraid of testing that theory.”

Viktor pauses again and looks back at Jayce. He has a smirk on his face. An almost curious sort of affection that makes Jayce’s heart race. Please. Please. Please.

“You’re impossible, Talis.”

It’s the way Viktor says it that makes Jayce’s heart pick up. He may as well have just called him delightful instead of impossible. Viktor carefully picks the chessboard up off the windowsill, folds it, puts the pieces in a box, and brings it over. He sets it up on the table by Jayce’s bedside, leaning his crutch against the wall.

As Viktor sets up the pieces, he does so with the same precision he does when concocting medicine. He has these slender fingers. A little mole on his wrist.

Jayce almost scratches at the back of his neck.

“Don’t,” Viktor says, setting up their pieces and giving Jayce the light side.

“It smells strange,” Jayce says.

“It has arcane properties,” Viktor says. “You’re first. It’s only fair.”

“I always thought it was odd that arcane plants are completely acceptable, but arcane people aren’t,” Jayce says. Viktor freezes mid-setup. Jayce realizes how blasphemous he sounds. Viktor narrows his eyes.

“Bold statement. You should be careful who you speak that way to.”

“You’re right. My apologies,” Jayce says. He's been feeling all sorts of strange and ill. He fears how loose-lipped it'll make him. He'd hate to make Viktor feel uncomfortable even off the medication. 

Before Viktor can reply, Lest comes in again. She has a letter for Viktor. Viktor opens it immediately and then sighs. Clearly, it is not from who he’s expecting. He hands it to her.

“It's just Salo. Are you sure there's nothing else?”

Lest shakes her head. Notes the chess board. Her concerned frown turns into a smirk.

"Salo? The keeper of the Press?" Jayce asks. 

"Yes. I treated him after the attack," is all Viktor says. 

Viktor finishes the setup.

“Playing Chess in a time like this? Viktor… sooo unlike you”

“Eh,” Viktor says. “This should not take long.”

Jayce loves the challenge. Loves his confidence. He bites his lip.

“You’d be surprised, Viktor,” Lest says, “Jayce is far smarter than he seems. I’ll go through our stock.”

“Thank you. Wait - hey!”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They begin. Viktor tries to lead him into an easy trap. One that would doom his game in seconds. What kind of fool does he take him for? Jayce deftly avoids it. Viktor blinks in surprise. Delightful.

“Maybe I am more of a mystery than you think,” Jayce teases. Viktor says nothing. But that small smile grows into something more genuine.

“When did you learn how to play?” Jayce asks.

“When I was a child,” Viktor says.

“Who taught you?”

“My mother.”

Viktor is not… the best at giving out personal information.

“My dad taught me,” Jayce offers, “before he passed. My Mother and I used to play all the time when I was younger before I got invested in my studies.”

“And what were those studies, Jayce?” Viktor asks this with a sigh, almost as if he’s giving in to an urge he shouldn’t be.

There’s a moment where Jayce thinks he just might have Viktor on the defense until Viktor ruthlessly takes his bishop.

“The... sciences,” Jayce says.

“What led you to join the knighthood, then?”

A memory. One of those dreaded memories.

Blood on the sidewalk.

A blue sky. Smoke rising.

“Jayce… are you alright?”

Jayce coughs.

“Yes. Sorry. When my… academic career did not go to plan, I wanted to devote myself to something new. My father had had a close relationship with the Kirramans as their blacksmith, and Caitlyn advocated for me to join the ranks.”

Lest walks into the room in an apparent search for more ink and parchment.

“A blacksmith?”

“Yes! And a good one too. I do some of the designs for Piltover now. The only time I get to use my academic background, really.”

“How so?”

“Well, with the shields and barriers I’ve designed, for instance. I’ve seared talcott powder into the metal itself, which gives the metal a heat resistance,” Jayce says. Lest’s ear twitches.

A small, pathetic part of himself hopes Viktor finds this impressive.

“Ah. An arcane plant... What was your specialty, exactly?”

Viktor makes yet another move that puts Jayce on the defense. Jayce thinks over his next move. Decides to try and trick him. Jayce watches Viktor think. That little crease he gets in his brow. Lie. Say you were interested in anatomy.

“Well…I was… studying magic,” Jayce admits. Viktor looks up from the board. His expression is unreadable. Unsettlingly neutral. Jayce looks around, paranoid about the ears of others.

“When I… when I was young, my Mother and I were returning from a long journey to my father’s homeland when we became stranded in the snow. A mage appeared before us and saved us. He traversed us through the most... beautiful realm. I know magic is too … powerful to exist within a person safely. But I saw something so… beautiful that day. I thought there must be a way to harness magic. Use it for our benefit. Put it in the hands of the people.”

Viktor stares at him with a slightly open mouth.

“I know - It’s foolish and reckless and -”

“It’s… beautiful,” Viktor says, hushed. “I… once had a similar goal myself.”

It’s in that moment Viktor turns from a fascination into a true infatuation.

“I’m sure Piltover was not thrilled with your choice of study,” Viktor says, absorbed in the game.

Again. More memories.

A man being hanged. The snapping of his neck. Your fault. Your fault.

“No. Umm. They weren’t. Can we umm… can we talk about something else? We can come back to it later.”

Viktor looks up at him. Jayce cannot take the concern.

“Of course,” he’s so kind.

The more they talk, the more Jayce deduces that Viktor is clearly brilliant. In the way he speaks. In what he’s done. Jayce has always felt a certain loneliness in his own thinking. A constant, pressing need to create, understand, process. He feels that energy within Viktor. He feels seen in a way he never has. Understood.

He has only known this man for the better part of a day. He feels electrified.

Eventually, Viktor tells him about how he got this job. How there was a knock on his door from a Royal official and his guards.

“I thought I was surely going to get taken in for some sort of questioning, and instead, they offered me a high position.”

Jayce laughs.

“What made you take it?”

Viktor’s face falls a little.

“I was offered access to the Royal Library. In addition to some facilities at the academy. I’ve.. been trying to research the plague. Trying and so far failing to … find a cure.”

A noble cause. Jayce suddenly has a fantasy of helping. Getting back into learning. Studying. Saving lives instead of...taking them.

“Do you miss it?”

Viktor looks at him with a sad, earnest smile.

“Zaun? Every day.”

Viktor seems surprised with himself as if revealing that information wasn’t what he planned. Jayce hangs on his every word, feeling like he might say more. Viktor seems to be contemplating it.

“I… see those Moonlilys? My home in Zaun is by a field of them. It brings me some comfort.” Jayce noticed them earlier. A beautiful flower that looks like a cross between a lily and a tulip. It blooms with exposure to moonlight, hence the name.

“Why don’t you visit?”

“Crossing back home isn’t easy. Coming back to Piltover is even worse.”

“I… I didn’t know,” Jayce says.

It makes sense. With the attack, tensions have been extremely high. Even before, with a group of Rebels called the Firelights fighting for independence, the tension between the two cities was broiling. Jayce doesn’t fully understand why so many in Zaun desire independence from Piltover. Zaun seems quite unstable from what he’s read. Regardless, many on both sides believe independence is quite close.

He’s aware from meetings he’s attended as a guard that the Queen is tired of the conflict and of trying to rule such an unruly place, but does not want to appear weak by giving in after such an attack. He does not ask for Viktor’s thoughts on the matter. He doesn’t want to offend.

Jayce sacrifices his rook to try and get Viktor into a corner for once. Viktor smirks. Looks up at him.

“You actually are quite good.” It’s the way Viktor says it. The way he leans in. A little smile on his face. He makes his move, barely breaking eye contact.

Jayce gets completely flustered. Makes his move.

Viktor takes his queen with a pawn.

“Oh…” Jayce says.

“You weren’t paying attention,” Viktor smirks.

Jayce’s father used to tell him stories of men who got lost at sea. They’d hear a beautiful song and become instantly enraptured by the sound. They’d find the creatures responsible for singing and fall so easily into their trap that they wouldn’t even scream when the beasts began to feast. He feels distinctly like one of those men.

The door to the infirmary opens, breaking the moment with it.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

A royal attendant steps through the door. Even behind the mask, Jayce knows that this is Marcus’s. His heart sinks. Marcus is a wretched man. Hateful and violent to a fault. He also happens to be responsible for both the guard and the army.

“Everyone… the High Commander.”

Marcus enters, followed by two guards. One of which he recognizes from his training days.

A memory flashes before him.

A field on fire. A blade to a throat.

Marcus asks for an update. Jayce gives Viktor a nod. Viktor stands by Jayce’s bedside as Jayce explains the extent of the leg injury. He's careful not to mention the growing concern about the wraith scratch. 

Marcus frowns. “I thought he was a miracle worker,” Marcus says. The way he ignores Viktor, looking straight at Jayce as he says it, makes Jayce’s blood boil.

“He is,” Jayce snaps.

“Regardless, Talis, we obviously cannot keep someone on the guard who is not at their best condition. I’m sorry, but you’re off The Guard,” he doesn’t seem too sorry. It’s like the floor gives out from under him.

The Guard has been his purpose, his only purpose since he lost it all. The Guard has kept up his reputation, his Mother’s reputation. Without it, he’s just… that failed scientist who got those people killed. Viktor’s defense of him fades in and out as more memories return.

A hand sticking from the rubble. A pool of blood on stone. Lifeless eyes.

“..., but I assure you, he will likely be able to fight in his own way, given time. We are not yet aware just how much Jayce’s mobility will be impacted and …”

The little boy. The little boy. The little boy on the field where he shouldn’t be. And it’s all his fault. And -

“...It’s not enough,” Marcus scoffs. “I’m sure it doesn’t seem a big issue for someone like you, but on The Guard, we have standards.”

It snaps Jayce back to the present in the worst of ways. Before Jayce even registers what he’s doing, he reaches for the nearest grabbable object, which happens to be a mercifully empty chamber pot resting by his bedside, and throws it at the man before his guards can even register it.

It causes immediate pain in his leg and reopens the wound on his neck in a way that has him gritting his teeth, but the look of shock on Marcus’s face as he barely manages to dodge makes it worth it.

“Get out,” Jayce says.

“Did you just… throw a chamber pot at me?”

“Get. Out.”

Marcus adjusts his cloak and heads for the door.

“I always thought you were too emotional to be a member of The Guard anyway. You’ve proven me right. Good day.”

Viktor regards him, deeply unimpressed. Jayce feels chastised like a misbehaved child.

“That must have broken some part of your oath,” Viktor scowls, standing at the foot of his bedside. Still as stone.

“I’m off the guard, remember?”

“Well, if you aren’t a knight any longer, you are under no duty to defend my honor.”

“You deserve respect,” Jayce says. Viktor breaks that steely eye contact, looking out the window.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Viktor says.

The wound is really bleeding.

“I uhh,” Jayce reaches to the wound on the back of his neck. “I’m bleed- oh Gods.”

Viktor’s face immediately falls. The liquid on his fingers is not the red of blood but a deep, purplish black. The wound throbs. The threat of it resurfaces. Viktor moves aside the shoulder of his tunic and hisses. Jayce looks down and feels bile rise in his throat. The veins in his shoulder have turned a terrible, spidery black.

“This should have worked,” Viktor mumbles, as if to himself.

Viktor stands up and begins to pack a satchel. He calls for Lest in the other room.

“Lest, watch him. I should be back by nightfall.”

“Where are you going?” Jayce asks.

“I’m going to see an old… colleague.”

“But it’s hard to get into -”

“Don’t worry about me, Jayce.” Viktor makes his way to the open door leading from the infirmary. “Just get some rest.”

Lest comes to his bedside.

Jayce lets Lest fiddle with and fix his bandages and tries to quell the rising panic.

***

His Mother arrives right after midday with some homemade soup, his favorite blanket from childhood, and a smile.

Jayce can barely stand to look at her. He doesn’t want to tell her. It will not help her enjoy these hours, should they be their last. Jayce refuses to let himself think that way. Viktor is the Man of Miracle. He'll figure it out. 

Caitlyn comes to visit with an off-duty Vi. Loris stands guard in the doorway. When they walk in, Vi immediately says.

“Talis.. What is this I am hearing about you throwing a -”

Jayce rapidly shakes his head. This his Mother certainly cannot know. Vi notices his Mother.

“- a ball. After you heal?”

Jayce grits his teeth. They better not hold him to that should he survive.

“A rumor,” Jayce says. Caitlyn sits next to the chess set, eyeing it.

Vi has a bundle of herbs in her arms.

“Where’s Viktor?”

“He… went to see an old mentor. He should be back soon.”

“Well, I got him his herbs,” Vi says, slamming them on the desk.

Vi and Caitlyn keep the visit short. Caitlyn seems so far from herself. A strange emptiness behind the eyes that makes Jayce's chest ache. This is not his sister. 

Caitlyn is organizing a team of scouts to travel with her into Zaun. Neither Vi nor Jayce seems keen on the idea, but Caitlyn cannot be stopped it seems.

His fever worsens. He throws the blanket over his shoulders to hide any signs of the bile in his veins.

When it’s time for them to go, Jayce stops them.

“You two did so well bringing me here. Thank you. And Cait. I… know you’re hurting, but don’t forget your heart.”

Caitlyn blinks at him and glares. “Of course, I won’t.”

“Are you alright, Jayce?” Vi asks.

“Yes,” Jayce says. “Just the medicine.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

His blade slides into the man’s stomach so easily, as if he’s made of butter. Caitlyn is behind him. The knife in the man’s hand clatters to the floor. He screams in agony when Jayce withdraws his blade. The sound of it rings and rings and rings in his ears. He won’t stop screaming. He won’t stop screaming. He won’t -

He’s running to the door. He’s escaping the crumbling structure. A wyvern screeches somewhere, but it's not nearly as loud as that screaming, and he’s… he’s falling. It’s pitch black and he’s falling, and the screaming is still there. The man’s agony is there. There’s a child. There’s a child. The boy. And he has nobody - he’s just his little head. And the -

“Jayce - Jayce -”

Jayce wakes with a gasp. He’s so drenched in sweat he feels he’s been dropped in a lake. His leg hurts, but - there are hands on his shoulders. Golden eyes.

“Breathe. Breathe. You were having a nightmare.”

It was only a matter of time, truly. Before he got one. His heart is thundering in his chest. He cannot - he cannot think of it - he -

Viktor has a cut on his lip.

“You’re hurt?”

“What?”

“Your lip.”

“Oh, yes. Don’t concern yourself with that.”

Based on the way the moonlight streams in through the window, it’s an hour or two before dawn.

“When did you get back?”

“A few hours ago.”

Viktor does not say. I found something that could help. He stays quiet. One nightmare melds into another. One he cannot wake from.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

Viktor’s jaw clenches. He bites his lower lip and looks at the floor for a moment. The hood of his cloak is still up. Then, Viktor meets his gaze. “Yes, Jayce. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Viktor.” Jayce, with his new official status as a dying man with nothing to lose, squeezes Viktor’s forearm. “How long do you think I have?”

Viktor leans over Jayce and gently pushes back the blanket. He swallows tightly.

“Likely less than a day.”

His poor Mother. He…

He has seen death over and over.

He has contemplated what it meant.

He has seen enough senselessness.  He knows death is an empty nothing. A vacuum. Same as it was before birth. One who is dead can not be sad they’re dead. Their memories are gone. It’s why, sometimes, he’s craved it so much. How cruel that this is happening when he just started to want to live again.

“We never finished,” Jayce says, gesturing to the chessboard. A light in a waking horror. A distraction. A beautiful game with a beautiful man in his final hours doesn't sound too terrible. 

“Now?” Viktor asks.

Viktor deserves sleep but Jayce is a selfish man. Jayce nods. Viktor sits. And they play. After some silence, they begin to discuss their shared love for magical plants. Viktor’s interest in seashells. His desire to leave the region for the first time and see somewhere new and Jayce loves it. Feels like there’s no clock. No pain.

“There’s a mountain range far west of here, Silvermist,” Viktor says. “And within it is a lake. Moondrop Lake. My Mother used to go when she lived in a nearby village. She said the water was as blue as crystals. Often cold as ice. But in the summer, you can swim just fine. Apparently, it is covered in silvershell. So at night, the lake glows with magic, oscillating between colors. Nobody lives there. It’s not even on most maps. It’s miles and miles away from any town. It’s a spot my Mother used to go to to get away from it all. It’s not as if I can particularly hike. Yet, perhaps delusionally, I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“You’ll go there,” Jayce says. Viktor smiles. Sighs.

“Checkmate, Jayce.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

Really, it was Viktor’s game the moment he took Jayce’s queen. He’s honored Viktor respected him enough to play him like this match was not his last.

“I told you. I don’t play with patients. They only get disappointed when they lose,” he says it with a teasing lilt as he packs up the board.

“I’m not disappointed, Viktor,” Jayce says. “I’m just happy I got to play.”

Whatever quip Viktor had prepared evaporates. Outside the window, dawn starts to break. He says nothing. He just gives Jayce a nod and goes to put the chess set in its usual place.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Viktor shows Jayce how to use crutches simply so he can watch the sunrise for the last time. The clouds are an angry gray. He barely sees anything at all.

Since he’s using his crutches anyway, he uses the infirmary's washrooms. He stares at himself in the mirror and sees the infection spreading. Angry black bile replacing the blue, slowly creeping towards his heart. What will the kingdom think when they learn Jayce Talis died from a little cut? His hands shake as he traces the veins. His lips tremble, but he holds back the tears. He's worried if they start to fall, they'll never stop. 

Viktor and Jayce get informed by the guard that Cait and Vi are out for the day, searching for Jinx in Zaun. Jayce is almost happy about this. He’s always been so horrible at goodbyes. At one point, he hears Viktor telling Lest. Lest comes in about five minutes later with bloodshot eyes and a careful smile.

He writes his letters. He writes one to Caitlyn. One to Vi. One to Lest with a few paragraphs attached for Mel, in case they ever find her. He then writes one to the crown, telling them Viktor did all he could and to fire him for this would be an insult to his memory.

He worries his Mother will not arrive in time. He doesn’t think he has the energy to write more. He thought she would be here by now, but the rain likely has her delayed. 

Outside, a storm breaks. Rain slams against the window with a rare relentlessness.

He can tell he’s starting to fade. He feels hot in a way that makes him feel like he’s being cooked from the inside. There’s a bizarre calm that’s come over him as if his own mind is preparing for the inevitable, endless quiet. Lest and Viktor keep pressing damp towels to his face. Whatever is occurring within him is occurring at a much faster pace than he had hoped. 

There’s a banging at the door. One of the guards opens it.

“The palace is under lockdown until further notice. There are Wyverns above. We fear it’s an attack. Please remain here.”

His Mother. His Mother. No. No. No.

The panic that sets in is so powerful he’s surprised his heart doesn’t give in. He tries to calm himself. Breathe.

“This man is dying. His Mother is due to arrive shortly. Please,” Viktor demands. Lest has shot up.

“Queen's orders, sire. I can…” He looks at Jayce, who very likely looks like death itself. “I can see what I can do.”

Lest grabs her cloak.

“I’m going to the front gates right now,” she says. “I will get you your mother.”

Jayce tries to choke down his fear. He doesn’t want her gone. He doesn’t want her to regret not being with him. And he didn’t get to write a letter. And - gods…

Viktor does what he hasn’t done this whole time. He sits on Jayce’s bed.

“This will sound strange. I know we’re… we’ve only known each other three days. But I will check in on your Mother, should she allow me.”

Viktor has yet to meet his eyes. Jayce is grateful for it when the tears start to fall.

“Thank you,” Jayce says.

Lightning strikes outside. For a moment, Jayce gets to see more of his face. The storm is so wild it may as well be early nightfall. The room is a strange dark.

Viktor does his job well, talking Jayce down from a panic which would only speed the process. Tells Jayce to breathe. Says it’s fine for him to close his eyes. That he’ll monitor his breathing.

Jayce fades into a reluctant sleep, waking to the sound of wind howling against the windows. It’s even darker outside. Viktor stirs next to him.

“Ma…”

“The Palace is still on lockdown,” Viktor says. “I’m… I’m sorry, Jayce.”

“I …. can you ummm…”

Jayce doesn’t want to go. Not like this. At least Viktor’s here. It has to be the pain medicine and the delirium, but he feels like he’s leaving behind something terribly important.

“Tell her... Ma… tell her not to feel guilty. Tell her I love her so much. That she was… she was the best Mother I could ask for.”

“Of course, Jayce.”

His shoulder is in agony. It's almost as if he can feel the arcane bile slither toward his heart. It’s harder to breathe. To think.

“… I … Viktor I think… I think this may be it.”

Viktor nods silently. He seems much more human like this. Those golden eyes flicker with something. Jayce wishes he could have known what it felt like to learn with him and to study with him. He wishes he could know what it felt like to hold him. How silly, truly. Viktor’s just doing what he was brought here to do.

The commotion continues outside the palace walls. Guards yelling.

“Viktor?”

“Yes, Jayce?”

“Thank you.”

“… there’s nothing to thank me for. I-”

“You made the three most painful days of my life somehow manageable. Sometimes downright pleasant. They are right. You are a man of miracle.”

Viktor blinks. Shakes his head as if to deny it.

“- Save your voice. Focus… focus on whatever soothes you. ”

Jayce takes a few deep breaths. He focuses on Viktor’s eyes. Searches for something warm. Tangible. Human. That beautiful hand. He hopes and hopes and hopes Viktor will let him take it. Uses so much effort to reach out for it. He lets out a little sigh when Viktor does. He stares at Viktor’s hand in his own. He thinks of one of the first things he said to him.

“Do you…” his heart starts stuttering in this strange, unnatural rhythm. “Do you hold hands with - with all your patients or just your favorites?”

Viktor's laugh sounds a lot like crying.

He’s scared. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to go.

“I…” Jayce starts. “Do you believe in an afterlife, Viktor?”

Viktor lets out a breath. Candlelight flickers. His hand is so soft.

“I… yes.”

“Don’t lie to me, Viktor.”

“I believe in a world we cannot see,” Viktor says. “Don’t you?”

Jayce has a distinct feeling that the terror of it may take him before anything else does. 

“Just breathe.” Viktor’s voice trembles.

Jayce’s vision is going in and out. He focuses his energy on running his hands over Viktor’s knuckles. He hopes he’s not making the other man uncomfortable. He hopes the world changes for him and treats him kindly. He hopes Viktor gets to see that lake.

Then, there’s a hand on his forehead, stroking back his hair. Soothing. So shockingly gentle.

“...beautiful,” Jayce breathes. If it’s to be his last word, it won’t be wasted.

Viktor’s expression grows complicated. Steely. And then the warmth of his hands, that gentle warmth… leaves him. He can barely get out a word.

“What?”

No… no….

“I - I’ll be right there.”

But he’s fading. He’s fading so quickly. And his Mom isn’t here. He cannot move. His vision is getting fainter. His eyes heavier. And Viktor’s gone. He doesn’t want to die alone. He’s afraid - he’s -

Viktor picks something up. Jayce recognizes it as the sword he had in his sheath when he was brought in. He cannot move his head. But he sees, out of the corner of his eye, Viktor place the sword between the handles of the doors so nobody can open them.

His vision goes out. Then back.

Viktor hovers above him. He rips at Jayce’s tunic. Puts a hand over his fading heart. Then, somehow so audible over the sound of the thunder and wind outside:

“You will not die tonight.”

Viktor’s eyes start to glow. There’s a brilliant, radiating light coming from where his palm rests on Jayce’s chest. It becomes so intense it bathes the room. Viktor looks like a god. He’s - he’s - wind howls around them. Inside the infirmary. Items get knocked from nightstands and desks, and candles go out and-

There’s a warm radiant force charging through him. The tightness in his chest dissipates. The throbbing on the back of his neck soothes. Jayce leans into the feeling. He lets the light in. Lets the warmth in. It has a distinctive essence to it. As if he’s touching a part of a soul. It hurts. It’s ecstasy.

There’s a final, blinding flash of light.

Jayce’s vision goes a brilliant, beautiful white.

Then all is still.

It’s as if the storm itself has stopped raging. Papers fall to the floor. The Moonlillys that rested on the windowsill have been thrown from it. Plants everywhere. The air crackles. Little spots of arcane light dance like fireflies. Moonlily petals float in the air.

Jayce is alive. He’s more than alive. He feels as if he was never infected in the first place. His leg is still broken. That he still feels. But he's alive. 

The moment the sheer shock of it weans - Viktor.

Viktor is on the floor, out of breath. He’s fallen from the force of it. He’s leaning against the bed next to Jayce’s. His eyes still flicker, going between that beautiful gold and that bright, endless light, starting to settle back into gold. His hair is askew, cloak knocked completely off. He looks horrified. With himself or with Jayce, he does not know.

The sight of him here feels impossible. There's simply no other explanation for what just transpired. 

He’s a mage.

Viktor is a mage.

Chapter Text

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce has always been grateful he was raised with Piltovian values. Very little emphasis was placed on the unquantifiable or unprovable. He was taught to venerate the simplicity of truth. Truth is irrefutable. The gods are mere fictional comforts created by terrified ancients afraid of their own shadows.

Yet, right now, Jayce feels like he may as well be staring at a god.

Jayce watches Viktor’s eyes flicker like relentless lightning in a night sky.

“Are you -” Jayce starts. He feels breathless. The storm outside has weakened, the thinning clouds allow the evening light to seep through. The moment Jayce speaks, Viktor’s gaze snaps up to his. He looks - Jayce realizes with a dawning horror - significantly similar to enemy combatants before Jayce pierces them with a blade.

“Are you… alright?”

“Pardon?” Viktor swallows. His eyes have mostly returned to their usual color.

Jayce notes Viktor’s crutch is across the room. He finds his own tucked behind his bed. He hands one to Viktor. Viktor uses it to hoist himself off the ground. Jayce notes that his hand is trembling. Viktor looks like he’s about to speak before his gaze flits down to Jayce’s chest. Jayce follows it and gasps.

Situated right above his heart, right where Viktor healed him, is a pearlescent handprint.

It shimmers. It has this unnatural moving iridescence. It is pure arcane scarring. Nobody can ever see it.

It is beautiful.

“I -” Viktor swallows.

Then - from outside - a pounding on the doors and a muffled “Hello? Is everything alright in there?”

Jayce’s sword still rests between the handles.

“Everything is alright!” Jayce says. “I just - we just wanted some privacy!”

Viktor’s brows shoot upward. Finally, he stares at Jayce with something other than trepidation: perhaps a little hope.

“… The Crown prefers we keep every room in the palace accessible to the guard, especially on nights like these,” the guard says.

“I will be right there!” Viktor says. Viktor unbars the door, explains away the mess by the storm blowing open a window, grabs his crutch, and then hands Jayce his. Jayce can tell by the way Viktor’s walking that he’s exhausted and sore from the fall.

“You didn’t give me away,” he whispers.

“I … I simply want to understand, Viktor.”

There’s a painting called Cyr’s Terror in every Piltovian schoolhouse and court. It illustrates the event that led to the founding of Piltover. In the painting, Cyr the Terrible floats above an ancient city, black storm clouds surround him. Everyone flees in terror except for one woman, Coralie Kiramman, Caitlyn’s ancestor. She has a sword in hand, risen high in the air as if she’s about to charge.

In school, children learn that every Mage eventually gains enough power to do what Cyr did: rise high into the sky and unleash a horrendous arcane storm that can decimate cities.

He tries to imagine Viktor in Cyr’s place. He simply can’t.

Three times now, he’s owed his life to mages.

“Jayce... I have to ask you some questions to make sure the… treatment.. was… uncomplicated. My chambers will be more private if you are willing.” Viktor’s hesitant voice is still soothing despite it all.

“Alright. Wherever is best.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The turret that houses the apothecary’s quarters is outfitted with a long, steep spiral staircase. Viktor, however, has outfitted it with a pulley system. A small platform with a railing attached to the system sits in the center.

Viktor effortlessly tucks his crutch under his arm and uses the rope to pull himself upward to the top of the stairs. The gears attached to the ceiling click with each pull. Viktor says nothing as he lowers it down to Jayce.

When Jayce finally makes it to the top, he finds Viktor clearing papers off his desk.

The marble floors, the light walls, and the gold accented furniture are all Piltovian standard. But Viktor has managed to bring so much of himself into the space. The circular room is lined with plants that hang by the ceiling. There’s a well-used rug by the desk and a worn, half-open trunk for clothing and other belongings at the foot of the bed.

“You can lay on the bed if you’d like, Jayce. You must be in pain,” Viktor’s voice is clipped and curt.

Jayce doesn’t know how it is in Zaun, but in Piltover, it’s considered incredibly rude to sit on someone’s bed. It feels incredibly intimate, laying back on Viktor’s sheets. The smell of Viktor is strong - that soothing mint and sage. Viktor helps Jayce prop up his leg and then sits at his desk.

“I’m sure you have plenty of questions. I will do my best to provide satisfactory answers, but I would first like to ensure the … that the … treatment was effective.”

Jayce nods.

“Do you feel any changes in mood or thought patterns?”

“Aside from the … surprise. No.”

“Alright. I would like to test your memory if you will?”

“Viktor, what do you think this could have done to me?”

“I don’t -” Viktor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning his elbow on his desk. “Magic is… unpredictable, Jayce.”

“What is your surname?”

“I - Talis.”

Jayce swallows. How horribly could this have gone? Viktor continues to ask him a series of questions pertaining to basic memory. Finally, he seems satisfied.

“And you… you feel like yourself?”

“Yes, Viktor. I’m… I’m completely unharmed..”

It’s only when Viktor lets out a shaky breath of relief and his shoulders slump that Jayce realizes how much tension he was holding.

“Alright. Do you feel any lingering effects of the wound or the rot?”

“No. It’s gone.”

“What about the wound on your palm? The ones on your face have healed.”

Jayce undoes the carefully wrapped gauze. There’s nothing there. He shows it to Viktor.

“Your leg is in the same amount of pain, I suppose?”

“.. yes,” Jayce says.

“I have never been able to alter bone. It appears I can heal muscles and tendons only in certain circumstances. I - I’m not sure why,” he coughs. “How is your heart? Do you know how to check for a healthy pulse?”

Jayce frowns, not understanding why Viktor doesn’t just do it. Then, it hits him.

“Viktor, you can touch me. I’m not going to… hurt you.”

A silence passes. The wind sounds so much louder at the top of the turret. Viktor finally stands up and makes his way to the bedside.

With a flinch of pain, Jayce moves over so Viktor can sit. Viktor takes two fingers and puts them to the pulsepoint on Jayce’s neck. Jayce has to remind himself to breathe. He hopes Viktor doesn't feel the way it just jumped at the touch.

“It appears steady. How… the imprint. Does it hurt?”

Jayce grazes his own fingers over the spot where Viktor’s handprint now rests. He shivers.

“It is… a little more sensitive… but it doesn’t hurt.”

“I… Jayce, I hope you know that it wasn’t my intent to … leave that. I am not always familiar with how my magic will take effect.”

“It’s not intuitive?”

Viktor clenches his jaw.

“It is not. I do not understand how to yield it outside of healing. From what I have gathered, different mages appear to have different abilities that come more naturally. But it’s not as if we can study it.”

Piltover has long since banned and burned any texts related to wielding magic.

“And yours is healing.”

“In a sense. I do not heal anymore.”

This means he was an exception. Viktor seems to realize he just implied this. Even in the increasing dimness of the room, Jayce sees how red he gets.

“So… why? Why risk this?”

Viktor looks like he’d rather be turned in than respond to this.

“I felt…I don’t know Jayce. I just did not believe it was right for you to die. You have great promise.”

Jayce does not press him. Instead, he says what he should have said from the start.

“I don’t know how to thank you. You have given me such a gift,” Jayce says. Viktor’s eyes go wide. “I want to honor that. I will not tell a soul as long as you can promise me you won’t bring harm to the kingdom.”

“I have… the potential for great harm,” Viktor says. “If you want me to sit here, Jayce, and insist I am a good person… I am afraid I cannot do that. All I can tell you is I’ve managed to contain my magic. It has been dormant for years, with a singular exception when my life was threatened and, well, tonight, I suppose. ”

“How do you suppress it?”

“I suppose it feels similar to … trying not to cry. It is not pleasant, though not particularly difficult. I-”

“Jayce?!?!!?” A voice from downstairs. His Mother. “Oh, gods! Jayce!!!! Sweetheart?! BABY!!!”

“We are up here!” Viktor says, grabbing his crutch and heading for the door.

His mother bursts into Viktor’s chambers. She’s wet from the storm. Her eyes are bloodshot. Jayce can’t stand it.

“Mama. I’m alright!”

His mother leans over Viktor’s bed and pulls Jayce into her arms.

“I was… I was so worried for you, baby. Lest… Lest said you were in a very bad way, and I… downstairs is a mess.”

Lest comes barrelling in after her. When she sees Jayce, her eyes go huge. She approaches him like he’s a phantom and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“What...”

“Viktor saved me,” Jayce says. “His mentor gave him a special poultice. The storm blew open a window, so he had me rest up here until it passed.”

Jayce’s mother gives him a careful hug. He cherishes the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her skin, the smell of her perfume: Home.

Even if Jayce wasn’t worthy of saving, his mother will always be worthy of a son.

With his head resting on his Mother’s shoulder, he looks up at Viktor. Viktor looks back at him, eyes gleaming with something impossible to parse.

You gave me this, Viktor. I will never betray that.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

It does not take Jayce long to realize how tired Viktor is, so they quickly take their leave. When they do, his mother goes to Viktor. She shakes his hand and thanks him, then cups his cheek. When she does so, Viktor flinches and then leans into it with an odd, jerky hesitancy. It’s as if he’s never felt a kind touch in his life. Jayce’s fingers twitch at his side.

When he finally gets to bed downstairs, he notices some cleaning staff have been summoned to clean up the mess. The floors look much smoother, devoid of splintering. They must be scrubbing them with Itermene.

Itermene is an arcane substance that has become Piltover’s signature export within the past few decades. It is practically coated over every surface of the city. It soothes the eye. Smoothes out imperfections. It makes what’s already beautiful seem even more so. It’s a trick. It’s glamour.

Jayce has liked the lack of itermene in the infirmary, and he doesn’t know if Viktor would appreciate this.

Jayce asks to re-pot Viktor’s moonlilys for him. If he wakes up distressed about the Itermene, he’ll at least have his flowers.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Viktor spends the morning asleep. Jayce occupies his time with a copy of the Piltover Review, which details the events of last night. The Firelights used their wyverns as a nefarious distraction so they could steal food from a storage pantry, resulting in the death of two guards.

As he reads, Cait and Vi burst in.

“… hello,” Jayce says.

“We were told you were dying…!” Cait says, storming up to his bedside.

“Viktor saved me. I’m alright, I promise.”

“You gave us quite the scare there, soldier,” Vi says, voice tight.

Caitlyn slumps down on the chair by his bedside.

“I promise you two, I’m perfectly fine - AH!”

Vi tries to sit on his bed, but it jostles his leg.

“Gods! Sorry,” Vi says. She pulls up a chair next to Caitlyn. They exchange pleasantries, but it isn’t long before Caitlyn’s mind seems to wander elsewhere as if she’s already planning their next move. Vi stares at her with concern, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“We will find her,” Vi says.

“I take it the hunt did not go as planned?” Jayce asks.

“When does it ever? It was utterly fruitless,” Caitlyn says, the venom in her voice making it tremble. Jayce sighs. He wishes he could have been there. He feels useless.

Caitlyn suddenly bursts into a series of coughs. Vi and Jayce both flinch.

“Caitlyn.. You really need Viktor to take a look at that,” she looks to Jayce. “We went to the depths, where the fog still lingers.”

The city of Zaun will occasionally fill with a toxic mist. Sometimes, that mist thickens into something called ‘The fog,” which can cause temporary madness for those who stand inside it. It is said that the mist is a curse that was unleashed by a spurned mage. Now, the entire city has to pay the price for it.

Years ago, Cassandra had underground airways dug that alleviated the mist, but the mist still takes hold of Zaun to this day.

“I am fine!” Cait says through a cough.

“You… you do not sound it,” Jayce says.

“You two are worse than my mother. Fine. I will have Viktor come by my chambers should I not recover by tonight.”

When Viktor appears, Caitlyn immediately walks over to him and shakes his hand, thanking him for his hard work. Jayce hopes Viktor slept well. That the day treats him kindly.

“You are hopeless,” Vi whispers in his ear.

Jayce grits his teeth. It’s unnerving watching Caitlyn and Viktor interact. If Caitlyn even got a hint at what Viktor was… she could undergo her rite in seconds.

“When do you plan to start courting him?” Vi asks. “Because I, for one, think your attempts at wooing that man would be deeply amusing.”

“I have no plans to court him,” Jayce hisses.

“It’s not too early to think about the summer ball,” Vi says as if it’s not in five months.

Caitlyn finishes up with Viktor.

When she returns to them, she mentions that she’s starting close combat lessons. Jayce and Vi exchange a nervous glance. This is just another way that Caitlyn is making herself more lethal. Harder to hurt. After the attack, it’s all she’s cared about.

He remembers that night with brutal clarity.

The Kirammans had gathered their most important of advisors and councilors to the throne room to discuss Zaunite Independence. Cassandra, hoping to illustrate her point that they should redraw some borders, decided everyone should survey the landscape from the lookout turret.

On the walk there, Caitlyn began to shiver. She left her cloak behind. King Tobias volunteered to grab it for her. A kind gesture. An unnecessary gesture, considering his amount of servants and guards - one he likely took because Caitlyn had been calling her parents' ability to relate to the common people in question.

Jinx’s lightning Wyvern fired into the throne room. The bolt was followed by a series of powderbombs - lethal explosives invented by Jinx herself. There was simply no way to save King Tobias.

Caitlyn has no reason to blame herself. Jayce knows she does.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Viktor does, in fact, get summoned to Caitlyn’s chambers later in the evening, which makes Jayce worry for the both of them. Lest has been pointedly ignoring him. She clearly does not believe their story. The tabby cat Viktor feeds jumps up on the windowsill, eager for him to return.

“I find it interesting,” Lest says as she notices the wound has vanished from Jayce’s hand, “that this supposed magic poultice would heal all of your cuts.”

Jayce sighs.

“Lest, I promise you. Our story is true. Why would we lie?”

She sighs.

“I… I don’t know. Ever since Mel… I don’t know what to believe. This whole kingdom seems to be centered on lies.”

The Kirammans have been so good to him, to their kingdom. There is a reason the Kingdom of Piltover is one of the most prosperous.

There are plenty of kingdoms and empires out there who commit atrocities regularly. He recently learned that Noxus uses highly forbidden hex crystals as an execution method, knowing that forcing a person to swallow one is an unfathomable torture.

In Piltover, people aren’t even hanged in public anymore. Queen Cassandra does everything she can to make a difference. She cares for all.

Jayce hates the part of him that understands Lest’s doubts.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Viktor returns with the news that Caitlyn seems to have a mild lung irritation.

“Even with rapid onset, coughing is rarely the first symptom of the plague,” Viktor explains. “She had neither the congestion nor the headaches nor the grey bile. You needn’t worry yourself, Jayce.”

Viktor heads to the window and pets the cat under its chin.

“Does it have a name?” Jayce asks.

“She does not.”

Jayce pouts. Viktor rolls his eyes when he sees him, a little smirk on his face.

“Why not?”

“Because she is not mine.”

“She could be. She clearly adores you.”

“She likes the food,” Viktor says, as she ignores the food to butt her head into his hand. She’ll get a name one day. Jayce just knows it.

:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Viktor decides Jayce should have five more days in the infirmary before returning to his own chambers. During this time, Jayce gets his visitors mostly in the morning. He then plays chess in the afternoon with Viktor. He always loses but never minds - not when he gets to see the way Viktor smirks. Jayce wants to talk more about Viktor’s magic, but they simply don’t have the privacy.

He quickly learns that Viktor is quite deft with other patients. Even Hoskel, who is incredibly hostile towards Zaun unless it involves the riches obtained from its itermene mines, seems to like Viktor, laughing at his jokes so loudly he wakes Jayce from a nap.

Nothing, however, not even the handsome mage, can distract from his injury. He’s made to do a pathetic series of minuscule stretches several times a day; the plaster over his leg itches terribly, and bathing is a difficult, humiliating process that requires help.

He is acutely aware of the comings and goings of guards. When he sees Vi come in in uniform, he tries not to choke on the envy. He knows word has traveled fast about his being stripped of his title. He can tell by the way people speak to him when they come in. It cuts deeper than he would like to admit.

It is not just patients that have visited the infirmary. Viktor appears to have admirers. At least three different men, one of which Jayce knows… intimately from his training years, and one seemingly misguided woman, come in with various gifts that Viktor politely thanks them for before putting them to the side.

Viktor is either completely unaware of their attentions or feigning so for the sake of being polite but Jayce hates it regardless. He has no right to, but it makes him feel distinctly like he’s just another one of these desperate suitors reaching for someone completely beyond their grasp.

:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

On his final day in the infirmary, Viktor gets called to the home of a wealthy noble. It’s horribly boring and made only worse by Viktor’s most insufferable suitor yet: Presskeeper Salo.

There’s an unfortunate icy panic that comes to him whenever he sees Salo, An immediate reminder of

The smell of burning flesh

“As long as you keep this between us, you will remain a dear friend of The Crown.”

The horrific crunch of a snapped neck.

At the sight of Salo coming in, clearly wearing Itermene lotion with how smooth his skin looks, Jayce grits his teeth and takes a breath. Salo is adorned in fine clothes, heavy on the ruffles and shine. He has an exorbitant purple and red bouquet with him. He’s in a new wheelchair, one with elaborate gold trimmings that seem more to his taste than the standard one given to him after the attack.

“Sir - or perhaps not sir any longer, is it, Jayce? It is lovely to see you. I hope you are staying out of trouble.” Salo says. “Is Viktor here?”

“He’s gone for the day,” Jayce says, trying to be curt but polite. He cannot be blatantly rude. Not to someone as high up as Salo. His reputation is waning already.

“What a shame. What a shame,” Salo says. He snaps his fingers at one of his attendants and demands she get a vase for his flowers.

“I brought him a gift, you see,” Salo says.

“Viktor seems to get many gifts,” Jayce says. Lest smirks. The corner of Salo’s mouth twitches.

“Yes, well. I’m sure nobody could get their hands on such rare Ionian gardenias. I would get him something more extravagant, but ours is a new, tender sort of courting.”

Jayce tenses. He gets the distinct feeling if he tries to speak, his voice will come out in a rasp.

“And this courting,” Lest says, “Is this something Viktor is aware of?”

Salo laughs as if Lest is a close friend giving him a playful barb. He puts a hand on her arm.

“All in time, darling. All in time.”

As if on cue, Viktor comes in.

He freezes at the sight of Salo.

“Ah! Hello, darling! We were just talking about you!” Salo says.

“Presskeeper Salo,” Viktor says with a polite bow. “It is good to see you. Is something amiss?”

“No! No! Not at all! In fact, I just came by to bring you some flowers. Ah, yes, here they are now.”

Viktor’s eyes widen at the sight of the elaborate bouquet being brought in. He sets his medical bag and cloak on the bed next to Jayce.

“I was going to leave you a note, but I was hoping you would attend dinner with me. A friend of mine, you know, the Duke of Mon, is hosting an exclusive dinner in a week's time. I was hoping you would attend.”

Say no. Say no. The Duke of Mon is a wretched old man.

“I would be honored,” Viktor says, bowing his head. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“Fantastic! Lest, my friend, you must come too, of course. The Baron of Highburg will be in attendance and I just know he is eagerly awaiting his next chance to see you.”

Lest hesitates.

“... I will see. I would hate to leave the infirmary empty-handed.”

Jayce feels like he’s been sent into a strange dream. It only gets worse when Salo asks Viktor to peruse the gardens, and Viktor agrees, giving Jayce a parting glance he cannot read. Salo rubs salt in the wound on their way out.

“Goodbye, Jayce! I hope your recovery is swift. And try not to worry so much about your fall in rank. You still have your charms.”

It stings far more than it should. Jayce looks at Lest.

“Don’t ask me what that was about,” Lest says. “I do not know… Salo’s first wheelchair was incredibly impractical and difficult to use. Viktor designed Salo’s new wheelchair himself. Salo has been obsessed with him ever since the planning process.”

“Does Viktor… does Viktor reciprocate?”

“That’s what’s troubling,” Lest says. “He agrees to outings. He does nothing to dissuade him. But Salo? It seems so unlike him.”

Jayce lays back in a huff, eyeing Viktor’s cloak where it lays on the bed next to Jayce’s. Jayce is supposed to return to his chambers, and Viktor’s out gallivanting with one of the worst men in Piltover.

The cloak, Jayce notes, seems to have gotten torn. Jayce decides at once he will order Viktor a new one made of the finest of materials from his favorite tailor. One that’s warm yet still practical during the summer season. He deserves it. He finds himself staring at the empty doorway where they just left.

Lest chuckles.

“Talis…. he’ll be back at your side shortly. I’m sure he prefers you.”

:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Viktor walks Jayce to his chambers right after sunset. Jayce takes a breath.

“About what Salo said… about my rank…”

“I do not care about such nonsense,” Viktor says, “And neither should you.”

The passageway is quiet aside from the sound of crutches and footsteps on marble.

“Are you…courting him?” Jayce blurts.

Viktor snorts.

“I’m sorry. Salo?” Viktor asks. “Jayce… absolutely not. He has… access to information about the Plague and an ability to get into places in the Royal Library that I simply can not. I’m aware it may not be kind of me to befriend him for that purpose alone, but I am certainly not courting him.”

The two reach the courtyard that contains Jayce’s chambers. Marble arches. Columns. A little courtyard with a statue representing the guard in its center. If Jayce can pull it off, he could get research for Viktor from the top Secret Royal archive full of banned and sensitive materials. He’ll ask Cait about it once she’s more… open.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jayce says. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t. “Are you… are you courting anybody else?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“What - because I want to know you?”

Viktor furrows his brow.

“I do not have… romantic aspirations. I’m not suited for it. Besides, being a mage complicates it, obviously.”

Jayce’s heart sinks. He doesn’t know what to say without giving away his own interest. They reach the door to his chambers. The gold trim gleams under the moonlight as he fumbles with the key.

His chambers are just as he left them before their mission to find Jinx on that false tip. Red velvet curtains hang over large arched windows, looking out at the city below. A bed resting in a nook.

His favorite gemstones and crystals sit on a table by the window. Jayce opens the balcony doors for some air, hating how difficult everything is with crutches, then sits near the chess set, hoping Viktor will understand his intent.

Viktor immediately gets to lighting the sconces along Jayce’s walls. He watches as the warm flame lights the fine curves of Viktor’s face. He doesn’t realize for a moment that the man is talking.

“ - luxurious, yes?”

“Hmm?”

“Your chambers are quite luxurious.”

“The Queen is very kind to me.”

He hopes they let him keep his chambers despite the fact that he is no longer with the Guard.

Viktor’s natural curiosity seems to get the better of him and he goes to investigate the gems. Jayce bites his lip when Viktor picks up his favorite, the piece of amber, as if drawn to it.

“ … suppose I should let you rest,” Viktor says, putting it down. “Do you need any assistance before I go? I could -”

“Wait!” Jayce says. “You don’t have to go. You could…”

Jayce gestures to the chess set. A breeze blows in from the open balcony doors. Viktor hesitates for a moment. Finally, he joins him. Jayce beams.

“This is a beautiful set,” Viktor says. The set is a custom set made in the spirit of his house colors.

“My father had it made for me,” Jayce says.

Viktor pauses for a moment, studying the board.

“May I ask what happened to him?”

Jayce swallows.

“He was… killed by rebels.”

The rebels committed the stabbing solely to send a message to the Queen.

“I… I didn’t know that. I’m sorry,” Viktor says.

That night, he and his father went to a park to watch Lumaflies, a special arcane butterfly that makes sounds like windchimes. On the walk back, he swore he heard a noise. His father insisted it was in his head and dropped him back home before going to pick something up from the forge. They received a knock on their door not thirty minutes later.

“It was a long time ago,” Jayce says. It will never take away the pain of it. Both of them know that. But Viktor just nods and begins the game.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They settle into a comfortable silence. Jayce gains the upper hand.

“Clever,” Viktor says as Jayce manages to finally get Viktor’s bishop.

“So I’ve been told,” Jayce says, watching as Viktor’s brows furrow as he contemplates what to do next. Viktor moves his rook.

“Such humility as well,” Viktor says.

He rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table. A huge faux pas in Piltover. Jayce leans in a little closer than necessary. Starts to back Viktor’s king into a corner.

“Check,” Jayce smirks.

Viktor doesn’t balk at the proximity like Jayce would. He remains careful, not leaning out of Jayce’s space. Viktor tries to get his king away from harm before meeting Jayce’s gaze. Those beautiful eyes. Jayce wishes he was a painter. He’d paint them over and over again. Work for hours to perfectly replicate the color. Their alluring shine.

He thinks of what makes Viktor flustered. Touch seems to do it. Jayce takes his turn before slowly reaching for Viktor’s elbow, tapping it with a chiding finger.

“You know, an elbow on the table is quite rude,” he teases. Viktor’s eyes shoot up to his. He then puts a second elbow on the table.

“Is it now?” Viktor asks.

Jayce stares at the board for a long moment. And then… he sees it.

An opening. Viktor’s king is smothered. If he moves his rook…

Jayce looks him in the eye and shows him what he’s worth.

“Checkmate.”

Viktor smirks at him, but there’s something more intense beneath it. His pupils are large, and his cheeks are flushed. With a sigh, he topples his own king. It sounds so loud. There’s a stillness in the air. A charge elevated by the flickering candlelight.

“Good work, Talis. This is the first time I have lost since I was nine.”

Something in his tone - the richer way he speaks, causes a warm, fluttering sensation in his gut. He feels very much like they are still playing.

“Well, I am always here if you’re looking for a second loss,” Jayce leans forward.

“Mhh… rude,” Viktor says. Jayce chuckles, trying very hard not to stare at the curve of his lips. “In Zaun, we’re told to respect our elders.”

“You can’t be more than two years older than me.”

“Clearly wiser,” Viktor smirks in a way that cuts into Jayce like he’s butter.

The wind from outside blows the balcony doors further open, causing one to clunk against the wall. Viktor doesn’t flinch.

“A- are you now?” Jayce’s voice cracks.

“Mmm… and yet still no respect from you.”

He’s teasing, but Jayce cannot even play at disrespect.

“I… of course I respect you, Viktor.”

Viktor’s face falls a little. As if the sentiment is too much to process. He backs away, out of the candlelight, and the moment is gone like smoke.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

It does not come as a surprise when Jayce wakes from the nightmares long before sunrise.

This is practically routine.

What follows is not.

Jayce can never seem to fall back to sleep once he wakes - the icy horror of the nightmares too palpable and maddening.

But tonight, he thinks of amber. Of mint and sage. Of careful hands. Gentle, hesitant smiles. He thinks of soft brown hair with lightened pieces. Of long fingers. Moles that beg to be kissed. He puts a hand over the imprint on his chest - achingly sensitive and warm. He traces the outline of it, trying to remember its shape as well as he remembers his most bloody and horrific of fights.

For the first time in years, he is able to find sleep again.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They don’t ever talk about creating and testing new medicines together. It simply happens as naturally as the orbit of a planet. They begin to work together in such a delightful fervor that it takes one month before they start finishing each other's sentences.

It is better than any pain medicine while Jayce continues to heal. When he gets his plaster removed for a much more breathable one, Viktor informs him that his leg was not set properly and he will never have the same use of it.

Jayce gets to making more concoctions. He does not talk about it. He expected it. He tells himself he’s fine. He tells everyone he’s fine.

Every task is hard. Traversing from place to place, even room to room, is onerous. It breaks down his spirit in a way he didn’t know was possible. But while his injury exhausts him, his return to science with Viktor invigorates him.

By the second month, they feel attuned to each other in a way Jayce never thought possible with another person.

He’s slowly able to bear a little bit of weight on his leg. He tries not to think of the amount of strength he’s lost. He realizes quite quickly how inefficient his crutches are and immediately feels for Viktor, who admits to him that the crutch he’s been using has been a placeholder as his old one broke. After chess, the two stay up late at night and design one Jayce can make in the forge once he is more healed, along with a set of braces.

Viktor does not let Jayce help with his plague research. He will not say why. It would be maddening were they not so busy concocting new medicines together.

Viktor’s magic remains dormant, but Jayce remains curious. They are both afraid of studying magic again outside of plants: Viktor for reasons Jayce cannot understand, Jayce for that fateful day he cannot dare speak of.

As Jayce becomes more and more able to handle his injury on his own, he notices Viktor’s acts of care go far beyond what an apothecary would simply do for a patient. Viktor once disappears for a day, as he sometimes does, and comes back with a collection of rare and exciting gems that he gives to him with an infuriating nonchalance.

Jayce doesn’t deserve Viktor. But he pretends he does.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Their relative peace is disrupted at the start of summer. Jayce is awoken from sleep by the sounds of commotion outside. When he looks out the window, his heart plummets. Multiple wyverns, at least five, circle in the distant sky.

One of which is a rare lightning wyvern, shooting blue bolts.

Jinx.

He quickly throws on a cloak and makes his way to the infirmary. He’s been using a single crutch as of late. More than any other night since the accident, Jayce resents his injury. Wants to scream at his own limitations. He should be out there.

When he arrives, he nods at the guards outside and opens the door, finding Viktor and Lest already scrambling and staff preparing extra cots in case of overflow. Viktor tasks Jayce with making extra burn remedy. Jayce starts grinding some herbs with a mortar and pestle. He tries to steady his hands.

What if Caitlyn gets hit with a bolt? What if Vi does? Nobody can survive that. What if Caitlyn’s burnt … What if they take her? Hold her for ransom? What if they torture her? She - she would never come back from that - not in the state she’s in -what if she’s afraid? What if - and he’s not there and - Vi takes an arrow for her as she’s sworn to, and -

“Jayce -” A calming voice cuts through the haze of his thoughts. Viktor has a hand raised, almost as if he’s going to put on Jayce’s shoulder. Viktor never touches him outside of what is needed for medical care, and he puts it to his side. “The herbs are ground enough, yes?”

Jayce stops what he’s doing. Tries to breathe.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You. I need to be held. I need these horrible attacks to stop. All of the noise. I need Jinx dead. I need Caitlyn and Vi safe. I need to be of use. I need to be back out there, fulfilling my purpose and redeeming myself. I need you. I need you to need me. I need you, but I’ll never deserve you and I don’t think you’d have me anyways.

“I - I’m fine. I want to be of service.”

Viktor looks like he’s going to say something else, but the first batch of injured pour in through the doors. One of which is loris. Loris is in horrible shape, his hands burnt along with the right side of his face. Jayce is almost grateful he’s been relegated to medicine-making duties because the sounds of his cries of pain alone as Viktor treats the horrific burn of his arm are enough to send Jayce back into his head - back to -

The heat of the dragon’s breath.

The firelight cloaks.

The fire. The fire. The screaming, the screaming the wailing into the night and -

He has to hold his breath. Focus on grinding the herbs.

Once Loris has been taken care of, he approaches. Before he even reaches his bedside, Loris informs him Cait and Vi were fine the last time he saw.

“What is happening?”

“It’s the press house. They - they hit a bunch of the guards, and the gates with this - this spray - the dragons were able to melt right through the shields. Right through the defenses. They raided it. Multiple injured civilians. The head writer is dead. It’s… ah…”

That gate - those shields are Jayce’s. His designs made with the scorching heat of wyvern breath in mind. He knew it was only a matter of time before they figured out he used heatproof talcott powder and how to counteract it. Still, he didn’t realize it would be so soon, that they’d be able to synthesize a counteragent so fast.

Around a half hour and several more patients, there’s commotion in the hall. He hears yelling. Vi. She brings in a limping Caitlyn, whose seemingly been slashed in the leg. The relief they are alive is so consuming that the worry over Cait’s leg barely surfaces at all.

Vi and the other guard with her, Cara, set her down on the bed. Caitlyn looks furious.

“Cait!” Jayce says. “Oh, gods!”

“It’s a scratch! VI! I HAD HER!”

Jayce takes a step back. Viktor gently undoes the tourniquet they made and notes the shape of the wound. Right above her knee. A nasty mark but very treatable. Vi looks pale. Her hands are clenched in fists. He notes her bloodied knuckles.

“You were going to get yourself killed, Cait! You had two firelights approaching you from behind! Her Wyvern was glowing on the inhale. I had to get you to safety!”

“I had the shot! I swear it!”

Jayce is stunned. He’s never seen Cait like this. She’s pure venom. Vi looks pale.

“Jinx had the shot! You had the lower ground and were surrounded,” Vi pleads.

“You have completely disrespected me. In every way. My mission. My authority. Our - us. Your sloppy work as a guard and your inefficiency caused this. You should have slaughtered them where they stood and allowed me to fire.”

“You… you’ve always preached killing only when you must. I was. I was doing as ordered, Caitlyn!”

Viktor mutters something about needing to pull up the leg of her trousers. Caitlyn just nods before turning her attention back to Vi. Viktor remains carefully neutral.

“You were doing no such thing, Vi. You made a fool of me. Of the crown. You are off my guard. I will have Marcus re-assign you tomorrow.”

“What?!” Vi says.

“Cait!” Jayce tries.

“Don’t tell me you’re on her side! You weren’t there!” Cait snaps. Vi grits her teeth and, with a huff, storms off, throwing back the curtain. Viktor carefully moves Cait’s pants leg up.

“AHG! Viktor! Careful!”

“Cait-” Jayce says.

“It’s alright,” Viktor says, “I’m sorry about that, your majesty.”.

“Cait-” Jayce tries.

“Don't,” she snaps. “Just - don’t.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Once dawn has come and the commotion has died, Salo comes in in a huff and informs the two that their printing presses have been destroyed and the blueprints for the revolutionary innovation stolen.

Piltover has banned the mass publication of text that isn’t crown-approved, keeping the blueprints for their printing press invention a secret from the people in order to protect them from the potential spread of falsehoods. Now, the Firelights have it. Jayce’s stomach churns. The possibilities for incendiary falsities are immeasurable.

Viktor, meanwhile, smirks behind his cup. They do not discuss it. Viktor is fairly coy about his political opinions, but Jayce can tell he is not very supportive of The Crown. Quite a stance to have, considering his position. He wants to press him on it, but he fears it will lead to a fight.

In the following days, Vi does not leave her quarters until Marcus reassigns her to gate duty, which is often given to juniors first entering the knighthood. Caitlyn won’t speak with him, and Viktor has been skipping chess games. Jayce finds Loris in a drunken stupor one night, saying he’d leave his post should he not get hanged for treason.

His days are even made worse when he gets a letter from the Royal Guard stating he must move out of his palace-provided living quarters by the end of the summer, something Caitlyn clearly did not feel the need to stop.

Jayce starts walking with a cane. Once he gets used to it, walking feels better, but he still feels hopeless. As if he can never fully return to himself.

Needing something to ease the stress, Jayce decides to take Vi and Viktor to the Talis forge. The designs he and Viktor came up with for Viktor’s new crutch and their braces are ready. He cannot do the heavy hammering because Viktor worries about the strain it will put on his body, but he knows that Vi loves to hit things.

When they arrive at the forge, Jayce works through the elaborate coded lock system on the front doors while Vi and Viktor wait in awe. The Talis forge was commissioned by the crown when Jayce was just a baby. It is truly massive, made to handle projects much larger than they have ever needed.

Jayce loves the forge, but he does not want to follow in his father’s footsteps. He enjoys working in the forge as a way to calm himself. He often comes here when he needs to think. When he wants to make something with his hands instead of destroy. But he finds the actual work of a smith repetitive and dull.

He’s agreed to make specialized designs in his spare time when the throne asks. As they walk inside, he’s reminded of the Talcott powder shields and how they failed during the attack on the press house. The guilt makes him feel hollow.

In the entry hall, Jayce nearly stumbles over a package that has been thrown through the mail slot. He recognizes the emblem immediately. It’s from the tailor - it's Viktor’s cloak. He’s been wondering why it was taking longer than usual. They must have sent it here by mistake.

“What’s that?” Vi asks.

“Nothing,” Jayce says. The colors of the cloak are… damning. He very well knows Vi would make a whole show of it.

Viktor goes to check his own measurements in the storage room connected to the dusty relic of his father’s old office while Jayce teaches Vi the basics and fires up the hearth. Vi is entranced by the art of it. She does not talk to him about her feelings. This doesn’t surprise him. She’s known Jayce for years and has barely told him anything about her basic past, let alone her emotions.

She and Caitlyn have had a complicated relationship. They’re both clearly in love with the other, but Vi keeps Cait at a distance, citing their gap in status as a reason they can never truly be together. Still, Jayce knows Vi loves her. He knows how much this must hurt.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When Viktor finally returns, Vi is hammering away.

“It is… incredibly hot in here,” Viktor says, sweat already beading on his forehead. “I… I feel like a … a roasted bird.”

Vi gives him a look. She snorts. Viktor sits at the workstation, handing Jayce his measurements. The design of both of their braces will be tougher. More intricate. Still, he lets Vi run up to the storage room, get the needed shaping materials, and make the basic pieces of their braces while he tries to do the fine shaping of the crutch.

When Vi finishes with all of the pieces, she seems slightly more alive than when they walked in. She leaves to go to her evening shift with a bounce in her step.

Viktor and Jayce leave once night has begun to fall. They hire a carriage. Once inside, Viktor shivers. It makes Jayce distinctly aware of the package in his hands.

“Viktor, I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Viktor says. “You didn’t have to…”

Viktor swallows. Jayce hands him the package. Viktor accepts it not as if he’s about to receive a gift but some sort of court summons.

Jayce bites his lip as he watches Viktor carefully remove the cloak. It’s striking. Jayce knew it would be. Jayce can hear the other man’s breath catch over the sound of the horse trotting outside. He runs a hand over the fabric.

“I - I saw yours had some holes, so I thought. Perhaps… If it is not to your taste -”

“I’ve never felt fabric like this.”

“It’s um. It’s Varnica? It’s an Ionian import. It's supposed to be light enough for summer months but still substantial enough to keep you warm. I’ve.. noticed you get cold.”

“This is… too much I -” Viktor swallows. It's incredibly rude in Piltover to turn away a gift. When he looks at Jayce, his expression is complicated.. So much in conflict. “Thank you, Jayce.”

Jayce warms. Viktor coughs and slowly slips it over his shoulders. Jayce wishes more than anything it was him putting that cloak on, latching the little button by the center of his collarbone.

He’s beautiful. So so beautiful in red and gold. Jayce knows he needs to tell him the implications of those colors. That it is unfair to simply hand it to him without his knowing.

“… I should mention something.”

Viktor furrows his brow. Jayce’s heart is racing.

“So I - well, umm… red and gold are my house colors. Some might see you in the cloak and may be inclined to believe we are… close,” Jayce says.

“Alright,” Viktor says, “Is this a problem for you?”

Jayce feels them ascend further up the hill that leads to the palace.

“No! Not at all. It is simply that… they might think we are very close? They may assume that we are… courting.”

Viktor’s expression is completely inscrutable.

“... I see.”

“...Or perhaps have formed a familial bond. Like we are brothers?”

Even in the dim light, even with him standing relatively far away, Jayce can see the way Viktor's brows furrow. Jayce wants to melt into the seat.

“... Is that what you want people to think?”

“No.”

“Then you want people to think we’re courting?”

Yes.

“I mean. Obviously, we are not, so not precisely?” Jayce tries.

“Not precisely?” Viktor asks in this neutral tone that makes Jayce feel completely backed into a corner. “Sorry, Jayce, I’m simply trying to understand. There is quite an ocean of difference between brothers and lovers, no? What is it you are implying?”

“Nothing! That is what I am trying to say.. Nothing. The cloak just might imply -”

“-The cloak that you gave to me, yes?” Viktor’s expression breaks. He’s smirking. He’s torturing Jayce on purpose.

The carriage comes to a halt outside the entrance to the Infirmary. Jayce thanks the driver. He struggles to get out, trying to place his crutch on the cobblestone. It takes an embarrassing amount of time.

They walk into a smaller archway, barely tall enough for Jayce to walk under, that serves as a shortcut to the guard's quarters. No matter how their day goes, Viktor always insists on walking him home. Tonight is no different.

“So,” Jayce coughs. “Umm. About the cloak. I..”

Viktor fully stops in his tracks. He turns around and waits for Jayce to continue. Jayce swallows.

“I know we have barely known each other a season, but I feel very close with you?” Jayce explains. “ I wanted to get something to represent that closeness, even though Piltover may not understand. I…” I would love for people to think I’m yours, As selfish and unwarranted as it may be.

“I have no problem with however people would like to perceive it,” Viktor says. Jayce warms. “You have always been the one to care about what others think. To be honest, I was only teasing you. I find it quite enjoyable. Making you squirm.”

Jayce can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. When he manages to brave a glance in Viktor’s direction, Viktor is looking at him with some sort of cross between amusement and affection.

When Jayce gets back to his chambers, he tries to sketch that look. He falls asleep working out the finer details.

He does not dream.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

In the forge, Jayce puts the fine details, pigment, and padding on Viktor’s crutch as well as his own brace. He promised Viktor he would finish his own brace before working on his.

The brace... helps significantly. He feels more stable. More at ease, but he’s still not able to bear weight comfortably without his cane.

Lest informs him Viktor is in the greenhouse. Jayce has never been. Viktor often goes in the early mornings before Jayce wakes. It’s in a very private spot near the woods that border the north end of the grounds. Morning dew rests on patches of manicured grass. He finds Viktor tending to the plants inside. The image is heavenly. Morning sun and birdsong and Viktor relaxed and content amongst the plants. He doesn’t spot Jayce at first.

The greenhouse boasts a diverse array of what feels like any plant, arcane or otherwise, that one can use for medicinal purposes. Jayce thanks the crown for giving them all of this. Caring enough about their citizens to provide such an incredible array. It is huge. It's almost a maze. Rows and rows of plants.

Many herbs that help with pain line the back wall. There’s a huge growth of Acermine, used to put people into a deep state of unconsciousness during surgical procedures, in the far corner, its pink and blue leaves look near translucent in the morning light.

Massive, purple gillyleaves tower in the greenhouses’s center. Plants that get used in tonics for sexual health and self-expression line the corner across the door. Its striking how many of them do not have the natural tinges of green an brown, but instead the signature tinges of magic: light blues, pinks, purples, some with a sort of glassy translucence.

He watches as Viktor traverses the greenhouse, one of the many magical parts of this place.

Jayce knocks. Viktor looks over, a bit startled, hand traveling toward what might be a hidden dagger by his side. His eyes widen when he sees Jayce.

“Oh! Jayce! Hello.”

“Sorry for frightening you. It’s finished.”

Jayce hands the crutch to him. Anticipatory. He wants, so badly, for this to help. The padding should really do his arm some good, and the grip is tailored specifically for the length of his arm. The light metal will hold up better than the wood and be easier to take care of.

Viktor swaps out his current crutch and takes a few test steps. He pauses with his back facing away from Jayce.

“How… how is it?”

“It’s…very nice,” Viktor says. Jayce beams.

He quickly joins Viktor in the task of collecting herbs.

They do so in a comfortable silence, only speaking when Jayce hands him the clippings, putting them in Viktor’s basket.

Jayce carefully trims one of the plants in the dry section of the greenhouse when Viktor approaches him, a leaf in hand.

“Here,” he says. “Try this.”

Jayce takes a bite.

It’s excruciatingly disgusting. Incomparably bitter with an odd note of rotten fish. He gasps, inhaling it and then choking it out. Viktor laughs and laughs. Absolutely cackling. It’s a surprising sound coming from him - uninhibited. Viktor laughs so hard his whole body shakes with it. His nose scrunches.

“What in the hells!”

“You Just - I didn’t even ask what it was - or smell it - you just - took a huge bit like a - like a godsdamn horse -”

Jayce would climb mountains if it kept Viktor this light and joyful.

“Gods forbid I trust you,” Jayce laughs. And it’s been so long since he felt this much joy. He feels like he can breathe again.

“You are,” Viktor practically has tears in his eyes from the laughter, “You are… ridiculous.”

Viktor looks at him with an open fondness that Jayce has never seen before. For a moment, Jayce feels a surge of hope. But then the corner of Viktor’s mouth twitches, and the smile fades as if he’s remembered something terribly important and dire.

He turns his back to Jayce and begins his work, but his motions are slow and strange as if he’s not thinking of the work at all.

Jayce has the urge to go to him. To put his head on Viktor’s shoulder and ask him what troubles him so. To beg him to let him ease the burden - whatever it is. To cup his face in his hands and whisper little kindnesses - little truths - until he finally smiles again.

Of course, Viktor would never respond like this. He reacts to the smallest of touches like they’re both a salve and a burn. He gives away everything and nothing. He is not Jayce’s to hold. He’s made himself like smoke.

Besides, if he knew what Jayce has done, he would regret saving him at all.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The following days after the greenhouse are… strange. Viktor seems lethargic. Distant. He doesn’t come to Jayce’s chambers for chess. He shies away from every touch. He gets a letter on the fourth day telling him he is feeling ill and he just needs rest.

Jayce spends the day restless and worried out of his head. He wants to respect Viktor's wishes, but he figures leaving food at his door is technically still doing so. He retrieves some soup from the dining hall.

He’s certain the noise of the rising platform will give him away. And he’s right. The moment the platform latches into its final spot at the top of the steps, he hears a beleaguered, “Jayce… go.”

“I… I just brought soup. I just...”

There’s a clanking sound. As if something has been knocked over.

“Viktor? Are you alright?”

No answer. Jayce’s heart drops.

“Viktor… ?!”

Silence. He flings open Viktor’s door. Viktor’s in bed, a carafe of water lies knocked over on the floor, likely from his bedside table. He’s… convulsing. Jayce rushes to his aid. The night is dark, and the sconces near Viktor’s bed do all the work to light the space.

“Viktor… gods…”

The moment he gets close, he realizes this is no ordinary illness. Viktor’s eyes keep flickering.

Viktor keeps fighting it, blinking away the brightness in his eyes. He’s gritting his teeth. He seems like he’s in agony. It’s nauseating. Jayce would do anything to make it stop for him.

His tunic is loose. Jayce notices arcane scarring, shaped like a web, beneath the buttons. Viktor whines.

“Viktor…” Jayce says. “What can I do?”

Viktor makes this horrible, pained grunt.

Viktor seems to come out of it with a great effort. When he looks at Jayce, he looks completely hopeless. His forehead is damp with sweat. Hair sticking to it. Jayce would fight the gods themselves if it meant Viktor never felt this way again. He immediately brushes the hair from Viktor’s face, acting on pure instinct.

“I…ughh..You shouldn’t be here.”

“Viktor…please… what is happening to you?”

“I …” his voice sounds broken. Weak. “Sometimes I get spells of this… arcane illness. I think it’s… it’s because I do not use my magic. It has become… much harder not to use it as of late - ughh…”

His eyes flicker back and forth, and he groans.

“It’s never been like this,” Viktor says. “I -”

“Viktor, I’m sorry, but you have to use your magic if this is what happens when you don’t.”

Another burst of pain. Viktor flings his head back, all while shaking his head no.

“Viktor… you can't torture yourself like this!”

“I - Jayce - go. It’s dangerous-”

The flames in the sconces start to flicker. Rise out of their glass containers.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jayce says.

“You should be, Jayce! ”

There’s a loud pop as the sconces in Viktor’s room shatter. The flame goes out, casting the room in a near-complete darkness. He sees Viktor's silhouette in the moonlight. He hears Viktor’s little gasp. Hears his quick, nervous breathing. Sees the flickering of his eyes.

Then… wind. Not unlike what happened the night Viktor healed him. Various pieces of furniture begin to shake. The glass from the sconce cuts Jayce’s cheek. He doesn’t mind. Viktor does. He reaches out. Touches Jayce’s cheek with a clinical detachment. Jayce feels the sting go away. Viktor looks horrified.

“Viktor! Look at me! It’s alright… just breathe.”

He hears Viktor’s breathing again. This time… deeper and shaky. Trying to elongate. Jayce puts a hand on Viktor’s cheek. Viktor looks at him. The wind stops.

In the aftermath, papers flutter to the ground. Various bits and bobs roll on the floor. Jayce keeps his hand there. Where he’s always wanted to put it, thumb grazing over the mole under Viktor’s eye.

Little pieces of light, perhaps pieces of magic, start to rise like fireflies, bringing a soft glow to the room. It’s indescribably beautiful. The room lights up. Heavenly. Almost too bright. He can hear the crackle of the arcane. Charged in the air.

When he looks back at Viktor, Viktor’s looking behind him with surprise. Jayce follows his gaze and gasps. Papers, pens, and pieces of glass begin to float into the air. Then Viktor’s trunk of clothes. Then his desk chair… then… Jayce starts to feel… oh.

Weightless.

Jayce yelps as he’s lifted by Viktor’s magic. Gently. It feels like floating in water, but it's air and it’s light and it’s magic. He watches as Viktor starts to rise into the air, eyes turning from an uncontrolled glow to something softer. Viktor’s only in his little briefs and his tunic, long legs floating weightless in the air. He’s beautiful. He’s simply beautiful. Jayce feels giddy. Papers with little notes. Bottles of medicine. Some of Viktor’s clothes float by him.

Jayce can’t help but smile. It feels so lovely not to have weight on his leg. To feel lighter than air. To flip around in the air like in a dream. To touch the ceiling. The magic in the air crackles and sparks. When he looks at Viktor, Viktor’s grabbing some papers as if in awe. For this wonderful moment, he seems no longer afraid of himself.

“How are you doing this?”

“I - I have no idea…”

“It’s… beautiful,” Jayce says, watching a notebook drift by.

Viktor hisses. Jayce sees blood trickling from his leg, probably from a shard of glass. Before he can begin to worry, the cut glows and heals, leaving behind more arcane scarring.

“I can self-heal, Jayce,” Viktor says.

“... of course you can.”

Jayce notes that Viktor seems to get scarring when he heals unlike when he heals Jayce. Jayce’s palm looks as if nothing happened to it. He reminds himself to ask about this later.

Viktor uses his arms to bounce off the wall. A tonic from his belt floats past Jayce. Jayce passes it to Viktor. Viktor uncorks it. The liquid rises from the bottle, joining the messy space in the room in little, opalescent blobs.

Jayce accidentally inhales some on a gasp in and fights to cough it out, trying not to laugh as he does so.

Viktor looks at him, and he smiles. Wide and bright and uninhibited, surrounded by his own magic. His own things. Bathed in light. He’s never seen Viktor smile like this. He needs to see it more. He wants to cause it. The smile alone is a sort of healing magic. A remedy for the soul.

And - Jayce loves him. He loves him. He’s in love with him. Hopelessly. Without question. Jayce is floating in the air, and there’s magic all around him and all he can think about is how beautiful Viktor is when he smiles. And it should scare him. He’s sure it will. But right now, all there is is Viktor, cast in the light of his own brilliant power neither of them understand.

:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

They float like that for a long while until Jayce gets cut on the cheek again by some glass. When Viktor sees this, his smile falters. They start to lower, as do the rest of Viktor’s belongings.

He grabs Viktor’s crutch on their way down.

Once they’ve both lowered, feet on the floor, the room goes dark. Jayce notes the room is too much of a mess, too covered in glass. Viktor wavers as if he’ll fall. Jayce catches him, flinching at the weight it puts on his leg. Viktor’s trembling. He smells of mint and sage and the salt of sweat, and Jayce would keep him in his arms forever if it weren't for the way Viktor immediately starts to squirm.

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry. Tired.” Viktor says, still whispering. “it’s not every day you learn to make yourself and your… research partner fly in the air.”

Jayce chuckles.

There’s glass everywhere. Viktor can’t stay here.

After some convincing, they slowly make their way to Jayce’s chambers. Viktor’s clearly exhausted. He’s still shaking. Jayce allows him his space but offers him an arm. Viktor is very… complaint. He does not seem drunk, but he seems so affected. He doesn’t even put up a fight when Jayce tells him to take his bed.

In his chambers, in his sheets, Viktor looks like a daydream.

Jayce sits on the bed next to him for a moment. Jayce doesn’t think before wiping the stray strands of hair from Viktor’s forehead again, tucking it behind his ear. Viktor doesn’t seem to mind. Jayce lights a sconce by his bedside to make sure he’s alright. That there’s nothing he missed while in the dark.

“That cut on your face is quite deep,” Viktor says. “May I?” Viktor asks, reaching a hand up.

Jayce shakes his head.

“Save your energy.”

Viktor listens, drawing his hand away.

He whispers something Jayce can’t quite catch before his breathing slows. Jayce stays there with him. He’s so peaceful in the early stages of sleep - mouth slightly parted, his soft hair a little askew. He finally puts out the lamp and makes space for himself on his chaise.

Jayce wipes the blood from his face and puts a cloth up to the wound on his cheek. He knows, without Viktor’s healing, that it will scar.

He wants it to.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

Viktor is still asleep when Jayce wakes, head buried under the covers as if to keep the light from his eyes. He does not wake until the afternoon. Jayce is writing a letter to his Mother when he hears the shuffling of sheets. Viktor looks around blearily, as if confused, and then stiffens.

“... hello,” Jayce says.

Viktor looks mortified. He sits up and flinches.

“How.. how long was I asleep?”

“Around… 14 hours?”

“What?! Ah…”

Viktor, with what seems like a great effort, tries to make his way out of bed, grabbing his crutch and standing. Jayce was going to give him time to wake up, but it seems he’s determined to leave as quickly as possible.

“Wait. Wait. You know we have to figure this out, correct?”

“Jayce…”

Viktor looks horribly ashamed. Red-faced.

“Viktor…Listen. There’s this place. It’s very secret. It’s called the Royal Archive. It’s an underground library somewhere near Piltover. It… it's said to have shelves and shelves of banned text. I’m sure some were written in the dark ages. By mages for mages. I’m going to try and see if we can sneak in. You said it yourself. It is getting harder to control. We need information so you can learn how to use it-”

“I will suppress it. I cannot allow you to risk yourself like this.”

“How will you suppress it without getting sick?”

Viktor doesn’t say anything. He seems angry. Clearly, he does not know. He finally sits back on the bed, flinching as he does so. Despite the clear pain he is in, he looks so much lighter and brighter than he has in a long time. The use of magic was clearly good for him.

“Whenever I’m … feeling strongly, I suppose, the urge surfaces. I have theorized the arcane exists within the mage as a form of… expression. Perhaps I need to focus on feeling… less.”

“That’s - you realize that is a ridiculous task,” Jayce says.

Jayce thinks of last night. Of how they floated when Jayce put a hand on his cheek.. huh. Viktor sighs.

“Do different feelings align with -”

“Jayce, I… I don’t want to be studied.”

“Okay,” he says. “Of course, Viktor. I just…I don’t want you hurting yourself just because you’re afraid of what you might do. We can figure this out, Viktor, together!”

Viktor stiffens. He studies his own hands.

“I do not trust the lies of The Crown,” Viktor says. “Though there may be a point to be made about mages. Magic is powerful. Humans are volatile. People like me are… too dangerous. If we should be researching anything, it should be for a cure.”

“A cure - Viktor. Don’t say that. Every person is capable of danger, magic or no.”

“True, but not everybody can harness the weather, Jayce.”

“You cannot help this. This is how you were born.”

Viktor’s eyes well, and his lips tighten.

“No,” Viktor says. “It wasn’t. I made myself a mage, Jayce.”

Jayce blinks.

For a long moment, he just stares. Viktor squirms as if waiting to be screamed at.

“...How?”

“My mentor invented Shimmer,” Viktor says. “I ingested a hex crystal while he injected me with it.”

Shimmer is known to prolong life at all costs. It must have been absolute agony.

“What do you mean ‘you wanted to live?’”

“I was dying. I was in the final stage of the plague.”

The final stage. The one nobody has ever come back from. The stage where the infected begin to cough up pieces of their own tissue. It’s supposed to be one of the worst possible ways to die. Jayce’s teeth hurt with the force of how much he’s clenching his jaw. Viktor continues.

“It worked… I could feel it… reconstituting my lungs and airways. It… scarred me. Took some of the pigment out of my hair. It altered my skin.”

Viktor swallows. Then, he takes off his tunic. Jayce’s breath catches. He’s beautiful. Jayce can tell by the shame on Viktor’s face he does not share this opinion.

His entire torso, even a bit of his upper arms, has an opalescent arcane scarring weaved in. He saw a peek of it last night. It is patternless- but shaped almost like a butterfly where it protrudes outward from his sternum.. It has traced over and highlighted old scars on his chest and over his moles, and Jayce forgets how to breathe.

The scarring travels downward from his chest to underneath the cinched tight cloth Viktor wears around his waist - likely to support his back. He wonders how far down it travels. The arcane marking is likely of the same make as the handprint on Jayce’s chest - meaning it's probably incredibly sensitive. Jayce’s mouth goes dry.

“From what I can tell, I’m no different than a born mage if my singular source is anything to go by. But… clearly. I made myself the monster.”

“You are not a monster,” Jayce says. “You just wanted to survive.”

“I was selfish,” Viktor says, putting his tunic back on.

“You were brave.”

Viktor grows very red.

“You are so…” Viktor huffs. He stands with an effort as if not able to be in Jayce’s space anymore. Viktor doesn’t finish his sentence. He won’t look at him.

“I know,” Jayce says. He barely recognizes the sound of his own voice. Soft and fond and new. Jayce watches as that blush makes its way to the back of Viktor’s neck. It’s clear this wasn’t the expected outcome. It’s clear that Viktor thought Jayce would react with disdain. That he could push Jayce away.

Viktor doesn’t realize he never could - that there’s nothing Viktor could possibly tell him that would make Jayce love him less.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce has never had to “request audience” with his own friend, but considering how much she has pushed him to the side, even so much as to revoke his housing at the end of the summer, he must.

There’s commotion outside the palace walls. There has been a lot of that lately. Still, it sounds quite loud today. A larger protest than the usual. Right before he reaches Caitlyn’s chambers, he runs into Marcus.

“Talis,” he says. “I see you are recovering.”

“I am,” Jayce says cooly. “It sounds bad outside today. I hope all is alright.”

“We’re handling it. Say. I hear there may be a congratulations in order,” Marcus says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The royal apothecary has been seen wearing your colors.”

“We aren’t -”

“How the mighty have fallen.”

Jayce feels sick.

“... excuse me?”

Royal Apothecaries exist in a unique category in Piltovian high society. They are essentially beyond rank. They work in an incredibly well-respected and important trade. Were Jayce seeing a Royal Apothecary, it would not be a mark on his status, if anything, it would improve it as it stands right now.

Marcus is clearly referring to something else.

“I was just noting -”

“Sir, the queen is requesting your audience,” a guard says to Marcus. Marcus smirks at Jayce.

“Duty calls.”

Jayce glares at his back before following Caitlyn’s guard to her chambers. The doors open, and one of her attendants announces him.

“Jayce Talis, your Majesty.”

Caitlyn does not stand up or turn around. She sits with his back to him, looking out her window. Half of her massive bed chambers have been turned into a sort of grounds for a search.. Drawings of Jinx. Clippings of reports. Notes from eyewitnesses. Pieces of string tying them together. A detailed map of Zaun. Multiple close-combat weapons and training helmets lay scattered on the other side of the room.

“Hey, sprout. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Jayce.”

“It’s… it’s been hard to reach you.”

“I have been busy.”

Once Jayce gets closer, he can see the protests down below on the streets outside of the gates. A massive amount of people.

“Good Gods.”

“These were dropped from the sky in the thousands this morning,” Caitlyn says. She hands Jayce a pamphlet.

FOOD SHORTAGE IN ZAUN IS PILTOVER MADE

He flips through it. It’s… incredibly dense and detailed. This pamphlet contains… copies of maps, signed documents, and logs on the export of the crop into Piltover. The import of crops of lesser substance into Zaun deemed as charity.

“It’s Propaganda, Jayce.”

“You’ve read through it?”

“I’ve read enough. Gods, what a mess.”

She leans back in her chair.

“What brings you here, Jayce?”

“I’ve been worried about you,” Jayce says. “Also… Marcus is kicking me from my quarters. I see you have not persuaded him otherwise.”

Caitlyn scowls.

“I see.”

“Mostly, I just want to see you,” Jayce says.

“He was adamant that the only people who should live in the high guards' quarters are members of the high guard. That it would look… bad to play such favorites. I could not disagree. It was not personal. I know my Mother would be happy to welcome you in as a Royal Smith.”

Jayce bites his tongue.

“I will… consider other options first,” Jayce says. “Though I am, of course, honored.”

Caitlyn looks at him. Skeptical. There’s a moment of silence. She closes the curtains, shutting out the protests from down below. She gestures for him to sit at her table. A chambermaid brings in a plate full of pastries and some tea.

“How… how is Vi?”

“Since you kicked her off your guard? She’s been... coping the best she can.”

Caitlyn scowls.

“You weren’t there, Jayce. I had my shot lined up. She practically tackled me to the ground..”

“Jinx’s wyvern was about to strike, Cait. - Look, I’m not here to argue. She misses you, you know.”

Caitlyn takes a sip of her tea.

“I… have been considering speaking with her. Perhaps bringing her back to my Guard on a trial basis. But gods. I just.. cannot fathom what she was thinking.”

“Sometimes, when you see the person you love in danger, it can become hard to think,” Jayce says.

Caitlyn stiffens at the word “love.”

“Speaking of such sentiments, I hear Viktor has been wearing your colors,” Caitlyn says with the closest thing to a smile he’s seen from her in months.

“It’s… it’s not what it seems. We are not Courting. He’s simply important to me.”

She purses her lips and raises her brows.

“Well. I like him. He’s like Vi. He’s one of the good ones.”

Jayce’s heart sinks. He feels an icy chill. He sets down his tea. Caitlyn swallows.

“I… I did not mean it like that.”

There’s no way Jayce can breach the subject of the royal archives with her. Not now. She’s so far gone. He’s tried to avoid the fact that Caitlyn could have overruled Marcus’s firing. That Cait allowed him to be removed from her guard. He hasn’t understood it and it’s hurt too much to look at.

He’s starting to worry it’s because she did not want him to witness her descent.

“...What did you mean?”

“I don’t know, Jayce.”

“Sprout…”

She sets her teacup on the table with more force than necessary. Jayce jumps.

“Don’t call me that. I am not a child anymore.”

Jayce swallows.

“Cait. You can come to me whenever you need. If things get hard.”

Caitlyn sighs.

“They’re already hard, Jayce. I don’t need you. I just need…”

Justice, probably, or to find Jinx.

“To tear the lungs from her chest.”

Jayce draws in a breath. Bile rises in his throat. Not just a fear for his friend but for his kingdom. He hopes Queen Cassandra has a long life ahead of her. Caitlyn is not ready.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

The protests do not slow. As the final weeks of summer approach, Piltover gets its press system running again, but the misinformation continues to drop from the sky.

Vi gets put back on Caitlyn’s guard. Jayce begins to be able to walk with his brace alone. Short, difficult distances, but it's progress nonetheless. Jayce does not ask Viktor to the summer ball, bud he does imply he should come. To his delight, Viktor agrees.

Jayce struggles with the way his body changes. The muscle has dissipated after five months of being off the guard. The suitors who were chasing after him when he was on the guard have all gone silent, which is alright in the sense he is not interested but difficult in the way it sits with him. He is not worth it anymore. The affection. Piltover’s care.

And worst of all, by the end of the month, he’ll be back home with his mother if he doesn’t find a way to convince Cait to let him keep his chambers. The closer it gets, the more devastating it becomes. Losing his place in the palace will mean he loses his easy access to Viktor.

The stress of it all begins to rot at him. His nightmares worsen. On the hottest night of the year he dreams of death and screaming and blood. Children dying by his blade, and young men hanged for him. And -

Caitlyn saying she completed the rite, and then displaying Viktor’s head in a box.

He wakes with a gasp, shooting upwards. He’s breathing so quickly that he’s barely getting air. He’s drenched in sweat. He’s terrified he’s not truly awake. He lights the lamp next to him with trembling hands. A hint of dawn light in the sky.

He doesn’t realize how much he’s trembling until he reaches for his cane and gets himself dressed. He’s rushing out his door before he can even think of it. Moving on instinct.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

Jayce realizes when he’s halfway down the steps that there’s little chance Viktor is awake. He makes his way to the infirmary anyway, guided there by pure instinct.

When he arrives, the man is at his desk, illuminated by the candlelight. Beautifully alive and safe. Viktor doesn’t ask him many questions. He just makes him tea and looks at him without judgment. And when Jayce is still distant and afraid, Viktor asks him to spend the day in town. He doesn’t think he’s ever said yes to something so quickly.

It's a beautiful day. Cool for late summer. Viktor tells Jayce they can do whatever he wants. Jayce’s first step is to take Viktor on the push carts. Half powered by hand and half powered by Talcott powder and fire, the gold and white personal carts on a variety of rail tracks are a Piltover staple. Winding through the various hills and shopping streets, the pushcarts are a delight and an incredible convenience.

Jayce and Viktor pull up to a pickup/dropoff station. Jayce gets them seated on the bench and then starts cranking at the pump in the middle, the traffic manager giving them the go-ahead.

Viktor lets out a surprised yell when Jayce pulls the lever, taking them down the hill into town. Over the sound of the wind, he gives a bemused Viktor a tour of the city, streets coated in a calming itermene.

White and gold marble and brick buildings tower high as if trying to touch the gods. Smaller shops, houses, and vendors line the streets. Viktor quickly takes it all in. To Jayce, it's the most beautiful city in the world. It’s a pity he gets so bothered by the noises and the crowds. He often flinches at the slightest things.

Jayce first takes him to Ciara’s Sweets. Ciara, the shop owner, greets him with open arms. She knows Jayce well. Jayce’s mother used to take him here all the time. She gives them a seat on the veranda. It gives them a pleasant view of Piltover’s archways and gardens. The sea is calm and distant.

“So… what makes… Piltovian ice cream piltovian. Please don’t tell me they’ve found a way to coat it in itermene.”

“It’s softer,” Jayce laughs “It’s very tasty.”

Jayce smiles at him. Viktor keeps looking around. Taking in everything with a clinical fascination. They watch as a kid almost runs onto the pushcart track in search of his ball, his mother yelling at him to stop. Jayce decides to take a risk. Viktor seems open today. Content. He’s being incredibly kind, taking him here, giving him this. He’s so closed about his past.

“Did… did you ever give your parents trouble?”

Viktor looks at him and smirks. Ciara brings them the ice cream.

“I liked to experiment. I went through a period where I really liked fire. So … yes, I would say I gave them trouble,” Viktor smiles. He looks at Jayce for a moment as if contemplating something.

“My father was… a very kind man. He worked incredibly hard. He was incredible at chess.”

“What did he do?”

“He worked the mines. Mostly steel. Then Itermene. We… had a home. A small home but a home. He was able to sell what he mined directly until the Plentiful law came about.”

“The what?”

Viktor raises a brow.

“The law that went into effect that made it illegal for miners to sell their own goods? They were instead made to give their goods to the Mine’s Piltovian owners in exchange for food or coin.”

“ I’ve never heard of it.”

“Some laws they like to implement loudly. Some they do not.”

Jayce swallows.

“My father worked incredibly long hours to make up for the loss. He eventually contracted the plague. He died when I was 9.”

Viktor takes a bite of the ice cream. He sighs. Nods his head.

“This is… this is very good.”

Jayce is reaching for Viktor’s free hand before he can think not to. Viktor freezes, looking at Jayce’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, Viktor.”

Viktor swallows. Jayce wonders about Viktor’s mother. He has a feeling she has also passed. But he will not push.

“It was a long time ago,” Viktor says. The look they share is knowing. It says all he needs to say.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

The day that follows is one of the most delightful Jayce has ever had. Jayce shows Viktor some of his favorite parts of the city. The lookout point that overlooks the sea, the wind blows Viktor’s hair in every direction to the point where he gets all flustered. The old catacombs that are always so cool in the summer months. The amphitheater where he saw his first musical performance, and where he went on his first ever date in his teens.

They sit and talk about their first loves and their schoolhouse bullies, and the small yet incredibly significant things that make up their lives, and Jayce wonders how it’s possible to fall more and more in love each day when you already feel so consumed.

Viktor buys him dinner, and they watch the sunset over the sea. and Jayce feels taken care of in a way that makes his chest ache. Viktor seems more at ease today. Different. As if he’s allowing himself just be for once. Jayce has told himself so many times not to have hopes for this to become something more. But this feels like more of a date than some real dates he has had.

As they are leaving, Jayce overhears a couple talking about Lumafly season. He gets an idea.

“Viktor,” he asks. “Can you ride?”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

When the two borrow some horses from the Royal Stables, Viktor shows him his saddle system that allows him to strap in and secure his weaker leg, tuck his crutch into his saddle, and even get gently lowered to the ground on the dismount. He offers to make one for Jayce when he has the chance, as riding will be challenging for him.

He feels the strain as they make their way to Jayce’s intended spot outside of town. Feels the way his leg wobbles The horse’s unfamiliar gait makes him miss Zinc. When they reach the road that leads north out of Piltover, Viktor finally asks Jayce where he’s taking him.

“Did you have a secret hideout as a child?” Jayce asks.

“Of course,” Viktor says.

“Caitlyn and I used to go to this spot in the woods all the time as kids. I found it when picking berries with my mother. We thought we were so secretive. Of course, Caitlyn’s guards knew exactly what we were up to and hid nearby.”

Viktor chuckles.

“I figured we may get some Lumaflies this time of year. They prefer the forest to the city.”

“Truly? I’ve never heard them,” Viktor says.

Lumaflies are arcane butterflies that migrate over Piltover in the late summer. They travel by night and have fluorescent blue wings that glow in the night. Their strangest feature, however, is that when they travel in a group, it makes the sound of wind chimes.

It's hard to navigate the very small trail through the woods at night.. Viktor huffs as they take a turn inward off the beaten path.

“I know what I’m doing,” Jayce promises. Viktor just chuckles.

Finally, they reach the clearing. It’s always been so beautiful at night. There’s a little stream leading into a pond. The sound of the running water is so gentle in the starry night. It’s a struggle dismounting, but Jayce manages. They sit near the pond. Viktor lays back in the grass. They don’t say much. They don’t need to. Jayce just hopes the lumaflies surface. He wants to show Viktor that living things can have magic.

Jayce keeps his distance but eventually lays back near him. He looks over at Viktor to find the man looking up at the brilliant sky full of stars framed by the oak and pine trees that line the meadow.

“You only get to see these in Zaun if you’re in the border areas or the farmlands,” Viktor says. “Growing up in the depths, they are hard to see at all.”

“Are you… do you like being in Piltover?”

“I like the air. I like the stars. The smell of the sea without the dead fish. I like the company,” he says.

Jayce smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Stop”

He laughs. They continue looking up in silence.

“Do you miss the knighthood jayce?”

The question shouldn’t overwhelm him so, but it serves as a brutal reminder of why he became a knight in the first place.

The young man crying for his mother.

His mouth open in an eternal scream.

The wretched angle of his neck.

“Jayce?”

Jayce takes a breath.

“Yes. Sorry. What did you ask?”

“Where do you go?”

Jayce’s hands clench at the grass.

“My… my memories, I suppose.”

Viktor sits up. Moves a little closer.

“You can tell me,” Viktor says.

Jayce can’t take it. He feels like the words are about to burst out of him. He sits up. He’s never confessed any of this out loud. And Viktor will leave him. Viktor will hate him, but he can't take the guilt anymore. Not when Viktor is so kind. So giving.

He can’t look at Viktor. When he speaks. He sees it. Sees the horror of it play out before him.

“Remember the attack on the Academy? From that disgruntled mage?”

“Yes.”

“It… it never happened.”

He hears Viktor’s breath hitch.

“It was… I was studying with a hex crystal. illegally, of course.”

Jayce swallows.

He can practically hear the screams. Smell the smoke.

“One day, as I was in class, two boys broke into my apartment. One of them found it and must have dropped it and…”

He can hear the way Viktor’s breath shakes.

He’s trying so hard to get through confessing this. It’s agony. Like pulling a blade from his gut.

“The boys… died. The building collapsed. It killed the girl downstairs. She was so kind. Was getting married in the spring. And when I arrived, I found another woman in the rubble, her face crushed. Her child was knelt before her… screaming and screaming.”

“The Crown found out almost immediately. Salo came to the scene. The Queen could not have such a close associate studying such things, so they wrote it off as an attack from a deranged mage in the review. The worst part is that they went out and found one to execute. I don’t know who he was, but I saw him die -”

The stars above him blur.

“Jayce…-”

“I saw him get walked onto the gallows. And I always tried to comfort myself, knowing that mages must be evil. That the one who saved me did it randomly. And then… and then Mel saved me. And then… I met you and…”

He cannot breathe.

“Jayce…”

He hears Viktor shifting, likely to stand up and to leave. And he just buries his head in his knees.

And … there’s a gentle arm circling around his shoulders. He gasps. He’s too afraid to reciprocate the touch. He’s been so greedy. He doesn’t want to take what isn’t his.

Viktor's thumb runs reassuring little circles into his shoulder. And it’s so kind. And Viktor doesn’t really say much. Jayce feels unraveled and unspooled before him. How can he be so kind?

“I’m so sorry,” Jayce whispers.

“Why?”

“I… I’ve been tricking you into thinking I’m -” someone worth saving. “Worth the trouble.”

“Of course you are, Jayce.”

“I - I killed a child, Viktor” Jayce confesses, whispering. His ugliest truth. “A little boy. During my training years. Before I became a guard.” He can feel his hands start to tremble. “It was an accident, but I was careless and… “

Viktor simply pulls him closer as if inviting him in... He can hear the way Viktor swallows. Smells the mint and sage on him. Jayce can’t help but touch. He lays his head on Viktor’s shoulder and grabs at his cloak, that beautiful cloak in his colors, and he fights for dear life not to cry. And then Viktor speaks. And it’s all over.

“I… I hope you know there is nothing you could confess to me that would make me regret saving you, Jayce.”

Jayce cries. Keens at the feeling of Viktor holding him closer as if Jayce is worthy of protection. Viktor lets him. Welcomes him. Jayce just showed Viktor the parts of him he swore would make him completely unlovable and unforgivable, and Viktor met him with nothing but care. They stay there for a long while.

As he finally begins to calm,, Jayce takes his head off Viktor’s shoulder.

“I think I ruined your cloak.”

“Eh. It’s your coin.”

Jayce laughs, feeling incredibly tired out, when Viktor's expression changes. In the distance, little flecks of blue light. Then.

The sound of wind chimes.

They look beautiful in the night. Impossible. Viktor smiles in awe. When the lumaflies approach, one lands on Viktor’s hand. Viktor stares at it. It’s illuminated wings with markings not unlike what’s present on Viktor’s own skin. It’s beautiful. Then, another lands on Viktor’s arm.

And another, on Viktor’s head. And another. And another. And it’s delightful. And the sound of wind chimes is almost too loud by the time the lumaflies circle around him.

“I… think they like your magic,” Jayce says. Viktor looks absolutely baffled. A Lumafly on his cheek. A lumafly in his hair. So many around him that he’s basked in that brilliant blue glow. Viktor stares at the butterflies on his hands in wonder. They remain in the meadow until the lumaflies continue on their journey.

Jayce wants to kiss him like he wants to breathe.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

In his dreams, he does. He gently takes Viktor’s hand, watching as the Lumaflies flutter elsewhere. And the sound of the wind chimes echoes so peacefully in the night. And Viktor’s breath hitches, and his face flushes and Jayce inches closer to him until he finally feels the delightful softness of Viktor’s lips. And Viktor makes a little sound in the back of his throat before kissing him back like he’s wanted this just as badly, putting a hand in his hair and grabbing his shirt, and giving him the gift of the sweet slide of his tongue.

The sound of Lumaflies cascades through the trees, but their song is nothing compared to that little hitch in Viktor’s breath when Jayce kisses the moles on his shoulder. His chest. His stomach. There’s a breeze in the air, warm enough that it feels like it could be magic.

I need you, Jayce. I need you.

They’re somewhere else now. They’re in their home. And it’s quiet. Early morning. Far away from the noise of the city. And Viktor’s above him. An angel. Neither of them are wearing a thing, And Jayce wants him so much he feels sick. Runs his hands along Viktor’s sides while Viktor teases him, mercilessly, holding him close and taking it slow. Viktor palms at him and grinds into him until Jayce is a mess.

Viktor smirks. Kissing him. Jayce runs his hand along Viktor’s leg, tracing where his brace leaves its angriest marks.

“Please,” Jayce gasps.

Viktor’s skin is kissed by sunlight. He finally lines Jayce up with him and sinks down. And Jayce gets so lost in the heat of Viktor he has to bite into his freckle-kissed shoulder so he doesn’t shout.

“Very good, Jayce. Always so good for me.”

Viktor starts to rock on top of him, and Jayce clings to his back and kisses the sensitive spots on his chest. And he could stay like this for the rest of his life. And Viktor takes his time on top of him. He grabs Jayce by the jaw and kisses him in a way that’s somehow both filthy and covetous. They’re so so close. He’s craving the heat of Viktor’s skin, the feeling of Viktor’s fingers teasing along that handprint on his chest.

Jayce reaches downward to stroke him, watching in needy awe as Viktor throws his head back. He's so soft. He's pure magic. He's sunlight. He's coming apart.

“I - what am I - to you?” Jayce asks. He needs to know. And Viktor looks at him, lost in pleasure. And says “My only. My only.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

He wakes up with an exhale in his empty chambers. Alone. Sunlight streams in through the curtains. The sound of songbirds and horses trotting on cobblestone travel in from outside. His heart races in his chest.

It felt so real. It felt so real.

Gods.

He doesn’t remember the last time he had a dream that wasn’t a nightmare. But the joy of it was so profound his own reality feels shameful and hollow.

The guilt is all-consuming. Who is he, to imagine such things, when Viktor seems to freeze at his very touch?

My only, he said.

He brings a hand up to his lips and does everything in his power not to wonder how much his dream got right. If he’d sound like that. If he’d breathe like that. If his skin would feel like that. If he’d want -

No.

Jayce sits up. He puts a hand to his lips. How painful. How exposing. To be met with your own desire yet have nowhere to put it.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

In a turn of events that Jayce finds particularly devastating, Viktor receives word that Caitlyn and her guards are on a raid and have wounded coming in. This means Viktor cannot come. When Viktor says this to Jayce, he seems shaken and distant, absentmindedly gathering herbs and searching for miscellaneous supplies.

“I… I can stay. I can help!”

“I don’t need you here.”

He says it with a certain clipped tone that stings. Jayce nods, receiving the message, and attends the ball in a foul mood.

The summer ball is an elaborate affair, made complicated by the raging protests outside the palace walls. Jayce gets plenty of stares when he arrives. Everyone is dressed in their bright summer colors. Many look down at the brace on his leg, emblematic of his loss of status.

He is quickly accosted by Salo. Salo has a plate full of spiced caro, a Zaunite crop they have been struggling to cultivate.

“Well, where is he?” Salo asks.

“He has patients..”

“You know, I was with him in the gardens today, as we so often like to do, and I had to ask the question on everyone’s mind: if the two of you were courting.”

Jayce clenches his jaw but tries to be polite, smiling at people as they pass by.

“Of course, he said no. Made it very clear that the two of you were not involved in any sort of way.”

He’s sure Viktor said a simple ‘no’ and Salo is exaggerating.

“In fact,” Salo says, “He implied he only spends so much time with you because you can help him with the finer details of his plague research. That he’s only humoring you while you try to recover. ”

Jayce has to remind himself to breathe as best as he can.. It would be hard to believe, but the excuse is the same one Viktor told Jayce about Salo.

He’s about to respond when Queen Cassandra herself arrives, the crowd immediately grows quiet and parts so she can make her way to the throne.

Trailing behind her is Caitlyn. She’s putting on a smile and waving, but she seems incredibly troubled. She carries something in an ornate wood box in her hand.

Cassandra takes her place, standing above the rest, Cait on the step below her. She smiles out at the crowd. Gleaming and radiant. She welcomes them.

“After such a troubling year, it is truly incredible to come together and celebrate summer. But tonight, I have something to share with you all that will put this particular ball in the history books.”

Caitlyn holds the box in the air and opens it, revealing a severed finger.

“Jinx is dead. Princess Caitlyn has completed the rite.”

The raucous applause that follows frightens him. As if she was not human but beast.

The ball becomes incredibly raucous. Jayce tries his best to socialize while trying to find an opening to go talk to Caitlyn or Vi. He cannot find Vi anywhere, and Caitlyn keeps getting swept up with congratulations and well wishes. The protests outside grow louder.

He sees Caitlyn’s guards try to follow her outside onto the balcony. Both get sent to guard from inside instead. A perfect opening.

They try to stop Jayce from joining her out there, but thankfully, Caitlyn lets him through.

The balcony overlooks the gardens. The glass doors behind them do not do well to give them privacy.

“Vi is gone,” Caitlyn says. She won’t look at Jayce, but he can hear the devastation there.

“She… what do you mean gone?”

“She deserted. She fled into the night, I -” Caitlyn swallows. “I did what had to be done. I - I did what had to be done.”

“.… talk to me.”

“My… my arrow pierced Jinx's heart,” Caitlyn says. “But there was this… little girl… clinging to her. I - I thought I had the shot… Vi told me to stop… but I didn’t listen, and the arrow hit the girl too.”

Gods.

“Oh, Caitlyn…”

She looks like she’s fully about to burst into sobs when Jayce sees a shadow moving in the garden. That’s all the warning he gets before he hears a shout and something gets thrown at them. Jayce and Cait both dodge, and it shatters through the doors behind them.

Jayce looks inside, seeing it roll through the waiting crowd.

It’s a powerbomb. He learned how to disarm them after the attack.

Despite the pain in his leg, he rushes it. He has seconds. He throws himself to the floor, flips open the latch, and snuffs out the fire inside with his hand. It burns terribly, but it does not reach the explosive powder below. Caitlyn stands horrified in the doorway.

There’s a terrible pain in his leg and in his hand and a ringing in his ears. But everybody is safe.

He is met with cheers. With smiles. Golden and Gilded. He’s lifted to his feet. One of Caitlyn’s new guards holds his hand and holds it high in the air. A sign of victory.

For the first time in a long time, Piltover’s eyes are on him. He is no longer the sad case of a failed scientist turned failed guard, but once again the defender of the kingdom. It’s an incredible honor but the shock at Vi’s act of treason and Caitlyn’s mistake make it impossible to enjoy.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Anxious to see Viktor, he leaves the ball as soon as propriety will allow. He swings open the infirmary doors. Viktor is sitting on top of his desk. He has his head in his hands. Lest is stitching up a Guardsman’s wound.

Viktor sees Jayce come in and barely acknowledges him. When Jayce gets closer, he notices Viktor’s clothes are covered in blood. He even has some on his neck. His cheek.

“Viktor? Gods, what happened?”

Viktor seems thousands of miles away. Lest comes up to him. “It’s been a really hard night for us. We lost a patient.”

Lest gestures to one of the beds where the curtains are closed around it. Viktor seems devastated. He says nothing. He looks at Jayce’s hand.

“You’re… you’re hurt.” He says.

“Someone threw a powder bomb into the throne room,” Jayce says. “I… I disarmed it.”

“Lest,” Viktor says, “Will you check the Guards bandages before you go?”

Lest nods, recognizing the dismissal. Viktor gestures for Jayce to sit.

“I heard what happened,” Viktor says. “One of the night nurses told me. How is your leg?”

“It’s… a little sore.”

“You should not strain yourself for them,” Viktor says. He has bile in his Voice.

“They would have died,” Jayce says.

“So would you.”

Viktor seems angry. Almost disgusted. He grabs Jayce’s arm and lowers his hand under the desk. Closes his eyes. The burn heals, but Jayce feels… hurt. He thinks back to what Salo said earlier about Viktor not really needing him. He thinks of Viktor saying just as much before the ball.

Viktor stares at Jayce’s hand, squeezing where the burn used to be absentmindedly. He’s so shaken.

“I will put bandages over your hand so as not to evoke suspicion,” Viktor says.

“What… happened tonight?”

“I do not want to talk about it,” Viktor says.

He begins bandaging Jayce’s hand. Jayce still, even upset and confused, savors that touch.

“I’m… I’m sorry I could not be of more help.”

“We managed as best as we could. You would not have made a difference.”

Jayce cannot be here. He grabs the bandages.

“I’ll finish these myself,” Jayce says. Viktor says nothing. He just looks at the floor. Jayce doesn’t want to be cruel. He understands Viktor lost a patient tonight. “I’m… I’m going to my chambers. If you need anything, I will be there.”

Jayce stays up all night. Viktor never comes.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The next morning, he’s rehearsing what to say to Viktor when there’s a knock at the door. He feels himself freeze at the sight of Caitlyn and Marcus. Caitlyn’s eyes are red and tired. Marcus seems deeply unhappy..

“When Marcus removed you from the guard, it was out of fear that you would not be able to do your duty. Clearly, we should not have worried. You saved countless lives last night at a great risk of your own. You showed honor, Valor, and intelligence.”

“I - thank you, Cait.”

Caitlyn looks at Marcus, who grits his teeth.

“Jayce Talis, I stand here before you as High Commander and ask if you would re-join the princesses high guard.”

It feels like everything and nothing he’s ever wanted. A place in this city. A position to do good. Perhaps to change things. It feels like less time with Viktor. But Viktor doesn’t need him. Not like they do.

Its getting to keep his home. Getting closer to Cait again, to the chance of breaking into the archives. It’s purpose and place.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The re-swearing-in ceremony takes place two weeks later. It is an odd feeling doing it twice. He wonders if the tenets of his oath will change. Viktor stands with him outside of the throne room. Inside is a crowd of hundreds. The aisle lined with high guardsmen with ceremonial spears. They wait for Cassandra and Caitlyn to take their places.

Despite his disdain for Jayce becoming a knight, Viktor designed special grieves for Jayce, building a leg brace into his armor. When Viktor showed Jayce the designs, Jayce almost kissed him.

Viktor opens his mouth to speak, but all morning, he’s seemed at a loss for words. He wears the red cloak despite the heat. Fidgets with its hem. He's grown quiet recently. More forlorn. Jayce hopes it's not because of him.

Viktor stares at Jayce’s chest as if he can see through the armor to the hand print there. A guard peaks his head through, telling Viktor to join Jayce’s mother in the spot reserved for his loved ones.

“Is this… is this truly what you want, Jayce Talis?”

Those gold eyes. They make him feel so exposed.

“Yes.”

Viktor nods.

“Alright.”

Not long after Viktor leaves the massive double doors that lead to the throne room swing open. He finds Caitlyn standing at the steps leading up to the throne, a ceremonial sword in her hand. Cassandra sat at the throne behind it. The moment he walks in, the guards all stomp in unison and raise their spears.

Cassandra smiles down at Jayce. Jayce has to kneel in a way that strains him. He puts a hand over his collarbone. A piltovian gesture of respect used in these ceremonies. She gives her traditional speech about duty, honor, and Kingdom before handing the ceremony to Caitlyn, able to knight him herself as he’s to be her guard.

Caitlyn steps up. Jayce recalls his first swearing-in, where she had to suppress her laughter and try and take it seriously. She has none of it now. Her eyes are red-rimmed. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days.

“Jayce Talis,” she says, holding the sword at the hilt with its point on the floor. “Repeat after me.”

“I will not steal, cheat, or act in any manner that disrespects the gifts given to me by her Royal Highness.”

“I will not steal, cheat, or act in any manner that disrespects the gifts given to me by her Royal Highness.”

“I will remain gracious and kind to all in the kingdom regardless of rank or status.”

“I will remain gracious and kind to all in the kingdom regardless of rank or status.”

Jayce sees his mother smiling at him. Viktor’s eyes are so sad. When Jayce sees him, Viktor looks to the floor. He swallows.

“I will prioritize kingdom over courtship, crown over covetry.”

The image of Viktor comes to him unbidden. His gentle gaze as they lay in the meadow. The sunlight hitting him as he gazes out the infirmary windows. Their first days together. His laughter in the greenhouse.

He takes a deep breath.

“I will prioritize kingdom over courtship, crown over covetry.”

I will fight with dignity and honor, never to kill a person whilst their back is turned.

“I will fight with dignity and honor, never to kill a person whilst their back is turned.”

His Mother looks so proud. Viktor looks pale.

“Above all bonds.”

“Above all bonds.”

“Above body and blood.”

“Above body and blood.”

“I will protect the crown.”

“I will protect The Crown.”

“Even in the face of certain death.”

“Even in the face of certain death.”

“This is my vow.”

“This is my vow”

Caitlyn raises the sword, tapping him once on the left shoulder. Jayce looks over to where his mother and Viktor are.

Viktor is gone.

His reaction is startling enough that for a brief moment, Caitlyn follows his gaze. She coughs as if to get his attention. Jayce suddenly feels like he might be ill. He puts his hands out, knowing Caitlyn will offer him the sword.

“This is my Oath”

Caitlyn places the sword in his hands. Jayce’s vision goes blurry.

“This is my oath.”

Chapter Text

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When Jayce was sworn into the knighthood for the first time, he had experienced two of the most horrific events of his life the year prior. He lost his dream, his friends at the academy, and even his courtship. Perhaps it was that listlessness that made him believe in the power of his oath like one might a god. When he felt purposeless, he was given purpose in the form of a sword and a promise.

During his second swearing-in, his true purpose leaves before his oath is finished.

He has to force a smile in the aftermath. He spends the entire time at the celebration for his re-initiation waiting for an appropriate time to leave.

Once he’s finally able to escape the celebrations, Lest directs him to an old, broken clock tower near the river. He finds Viktor sitting where the clock face used to be. Jayce asks the only thing he can think of.

“What happened?”

Viktor turns around, clearly shocked to see him.

“I didn’t feel well. I - ”

“Viktor, please.”

Viktor exhales. Jayce takes a breath and sits with him.

“I became so … emotionally clouded that a dagger appeared in my hand,” Viktor says.

Jayce’s heart drops. Viktor was no more than thirty paces from the queen.

“Emotionally clouded…?”

Viktor takes a deep breath. He’s not looking at Jayce, but at the view below them.

“I could not stand to see you swear yourself to this kingdom in such an entirety,” Viktor continues. His voice is laced with bitterness. “I can’t fathom why you agreed to what they asked.”

The tower overlooks Zaun. The sight of the city is a magnificent overwhelm. It’s far more complex to navigate than Piltover, which constantly gets rebuilt and improved upon. The buildings are far older - green from the hues of the stone in the canyon. The city is built almost vertically atop a vast canyon, with many layers ranging from the farmlands above to the dark reaches of the depths below.

“Viktor, you knew this was happening. You designed my armor! I don’t-”

“Yes, well, I had no idea your oath would be so zealous and fanatical.”

In the distance, the Palace of Ancients stretches above the canyon. The massive structure, slightly tilted from its many years, is Zaun’s most notable landmark.

“I thought your expectations of this kingdom would be lower than that,” Jayce says.

“Yes, well. I had higher expectations of you.”

It’s worse than any hit he’s ever taken.

Right underneath the clock tower is a pond full of sewage and grime.

“Viktor, the guard is where I’m - It is where I’m needed and -”

“What about where you are wanted? Where you are valued? Where you are … safe?”

Jayce has no response to that. His kingdom values him.

He thinks.

Regardless, Jayce doesn’t have a place like that, nor does he deserve it.

Viktor looks down at the sludgy pond hundreds of feet below them.

“I used to play at the cove below us as a child. Waterfalls poured in from those aqueducts there. Of course, the crown made ‘infrastructural changes,’ which duly deprived us not only of our playground but also of a central water source. So perhaps I should ask - what about what’s right?”

“You are serving the crown, too!” Jayce says. He’s sick of taking the blame for everything that’s gone wrong.

“What I’m doing is different. I told you. I am here for my research.”

“Are you!?” Jayce blurts. He stands, needing to move and rid himself of this horrible feeling. He hates being angry, especially at Viktor. Viktor blinks in surprise. “Because you haven’t told me about it, despite the fact that I could definitely be of assistance. You told me it was the reason you got close to Salo, but you told him it was the reason you got close to me. But that can’t be true!”

“What are you accusing me of?”

“I-I do not know!” Jayce says. “Because you refuse to speak with me about any of these matters. You… you refuse to speak to me about quite a lot, actually.”

Viktor’s shoulders slump.

“Learning more about the plague and its origins was a part of the reason I came here,” Viktor says. “But if you must know, Jayce, I took the crown’s offer because….”

With his back turned to Jayce, Viktor looks down at his home city and fidgets with his cloak.

“Because - if I were to lose control of my magic, it would be here. And not down there.”

Jayce feels time come to a stop for a moment. Everybody he loves is here. So many good people. He cannot fathom it. It feels monstrous, but it's Viktor. Viktor grabs his crutch and stands. He looks Jayce dead in the eye. Jayce recognizes a challenge when he sees one, and he hates it.

“Surely any good knight worth his oath would sanction me for treason.”

“No. I would never.”

Because he knows Viktor doesn’t mean to harm anyone.

“Oh? But I admitted I -”

“- The knighthood isn’t what you think, Viktor! Neither is Piltover.”

Viktor’s expression gets very dark. Jayce tries to recover.

“There are some horrible parts to this place, but we can make the crown see reason! I can use my influence. We can fix what’s broken -”

“But nothing is broken, Jayce,” Viktor says with a hint of exasperation. “Everything is operating exactly how it has been designed. You cannot see it because you refuse to. You were raised with your eyes closed. You say I do not tell you anything, but perhaps you do not listen.”

Jayce stares at the ruined reservoir below and imagines it full of clear water. Giggling children.

“Tell me how to -” Jayce keeps choking over his own words. He can no longer cling to his anger. He loves Viktor too much and is far too lost. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything. Just tell me how to -” Tell me how to be. What to say. I’ll be anything if it would make you stay. Viktor’s expression crumbles a bit.

“I think,” Viktor’s voice wavers, “That you will be spending a significant amount of time on the guard. I will be relegated to my own duties. It is unlikely we will be able to afford each other much time.”

Jayce sucks in a breath. As Viktor turns to go, Jayce grabs his sleeve, desperate to meet his eye.

“Viktor, please. I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel-”

“It isn’t about how I feel! None of this is even the point. I conjured a dagger into my hand! My magic is becoming too volatile. And each incident has the same root.”

Jayce doesn’t understand.

“You, Jayce! It used to be so much easier.”

Jayce’s heart races in the confines of his breastplate. This has to mean something. It has to count for something.

“But it is about how you feel, because you’ve said it yourself, that you think the arcane is rooted in feeling so-”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you vowed to die for them!” He doesn’t say it with bitterness. He says it with hurt.

His voice wavers, and his hand clenches around the handle of his crutch. The wind starts to pick up. No, no, no. Jayce gently grabs Viktor’s wrist. Viktor swallows, but lets him. He won’t meet Jayce’s eye. It’s as if he’s ashamed of himself. Revealed too much. Jayce is operating on pure fear and desperation. He grabs Viktor’s hand with both of his.

“I would sooner die for you,” Jayce says. Even over the sound of the increasing wind, he hears Viktor’s breath catch.

“I - I do not want you dying for me. I do not want your fealty, Jayce. And if you remember, I do not want you dying at all. If you did, I’d -” Viktor doesn’t finish that sentence. He thinks for a moment, then Viktor’s eyes flicker, and the glass of the remaining clock face above them makes a nasty cracking sound. Viktor looks up in shock.

Before Jayce has time to think, he’s pushing Viktor against a nearby wall and shielding him. He hears a few small shards of glass fall.

It takes a moment to process how close they are. Jayce has a hand on Viktor’s waist, which, upon realizing it, he immediately retracts like he’s been burned, and another leans against the wall above Viktor’s head.

He can feel the way Viktor exhales - he feels it on his neck. Jayce shivers. He smells him. Mint and sage and rain. He’s never wanted anything more than to stay like this.

They’re so close that Jayce has to pull back to look at him.

“See..” Viktor says, looking above them, “Look at that.” Jayce can feel Viktor’s breath on his neck. He doesn’t want to look at anything but him. Jayce has to wrench himself away before looking up at the clock face. There’s a massive, lightning-shaped crack in it, right at the twelve and down its center.

“We - the whole point of sneaking into the archive was so we could learn more about your power! Help you find a way to master this,” Jayce says, still trying to catch his breath. “We can still do that! Nothing has to change!”

“Jayce,” Viktor says, voice barely above a whisper, “Everything already has.”

He places a hand on Jayce’s shoulder. A rare touch. It feels cruel in its context. It feels like losing him.

“Goodbye, Jayce.”

Jayce can barely breathe as he watches Viktor take his leave. He stares at his hands. For a moment -

Bloodied hands on the fiery bridge

Hands around an assassin’s neck

Hands on his blade, slicing into flesh.

Hands adjusting Viktor’s cloak. Viktor’s soft smile.

Gentle laughter and summer rain.

Jayce doesn’t leave until long after nightfall.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

As a form of celebration for his re-entry into the knighthood, Jayce and his Mother get invited to dine with the Kirammans the following night.

Before dinner, Jayce, feeling empty and restless, shaves off his beard. He looks much more presentable without it. Younger. Less haunted. It feels like itermene. Like a comfortable lie.

Perhaps it’s his lingering despair from losing Viktor, but it all seems so frivolous. Servants pulling back their chairs for them. Ornate engraved marble columns and trimmings. Blue velvet curtains taller than the average home. Imported crystal glassware. Itermene coated everything.

Queen Cassandra comes in not long after they arrive. Caitlyn barely manages a smile in greeting. Their mothers catch up and discuss how proud they are of Jayce and Cait while Jayce hides his faltering smile behind spoonfuls of soup and Caitlyn glares at the reflection in her wine glass.

Cassandra inquires if the home that the Kiramman’s provided them, the one he grew up in, is still suitable. It’s slightly outside of the city. Absolutely lovely, but very damaged. His mom lies and says it’s wonderful. Everything is wonderful. It is all so wonderful.

Their fourth course is baked caro, the same root that the Firelight pamphlets alleged Piltover has pilfered from Zaun. He thinks of golden eyes and children on battlefields and loses his appetite. To be polite, he eats anyway.

His mother pulls him aside once they finish dessert.

“Sweetheart, what’s troubling you?”

“What could possibly be troubling me, Ma?” Jayce says with a smile. “My life is finally starting again.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

After dinner, Cassandra informs Caitlyn, Jayce, and the on-duty members of Caitlyn’s guard that she is sending Caitlyn to the Isle of Song for a fortnight. The Isle, which is around three days by ship, is a part of the kingdom of Piltover. It has beautiful beaches, hot springs, and numerous establishments offering services designed to rejuvenate the body and calm the mind.

Caitlyn is furious.

Since she’s completed the rite, it’s customary that she will become far more involved in political proceedings. She seems afraid of the ordered time away, as if slowing down will cause a crash.

Jayce wants to leave Viktor a goodbye note. To plead for his forgiveness. He doesn’t know how to start it. He doesn’t get past the man’s name.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Since Caitlyn sent Loris to find Vi, knowing full well Loris would not hunt her down and bring her back, Jayce has been promoted to the head of Caitlyn’s guard. During the journey to the Isle, it becomes clear that most members of Caitlyn’s guard do not like Jayce.

This adds to his stress considerably. He assumes it’s because of his closeness with Caitlyn, yet it stings all the same. It is not until the final night that one of the kinder members of Caitlyn’s guard, Cara, convinces Jayce to join a card game.

Ari, one of Caitlyn’s most ruthless guards who took part in the raids on Zaun right after the attack, leaves the moment Jayce sits, but the others are far more welcoming. He does everything he can to put on a good show and make a good impression. To his surprise, it works. By the end of the night, he feels more welcome.

Their comfort with Jayce prompts some unexpected questions. Ilee, an incredibly tall woman with a crude sense of humor and a missing tooth, asks Jayce about Caitlyn while dealing cards.

“Is it true she was not always… the way she is?”

Jayce sighs.

“She is going through a hard time.”

“I’ll say,” Yora, another guard member, says. “I was once five minutes late to shift, and she was scarier than a mage in a rage.”

A common expression. Jayce’s jaw clenches all the same.

“I worry for her,” Cara says. “She’s barely left her chambers. She’s barely eaten…”

“I will visit with her tonight,” Jayce promises.

Right as they start their game, the knights find a new topic of conversation. One of the kitchen staff comes to their table with some drinks. As she reaches downward, Jayce notices a cuff on her wrist. An indicator of being Soulbound - a Zaunite tradition widely seen as extreme and archaic by those in Piltover.

When she leaves, Cara immediately leans in.

“Did you see her wrist?”

Ilee nods. Grey, one of the more sociable of the bunch, leans in.

“Soulbound,” he says. “And she told me she’s from Piltover. Her partner is the Zaunite.”

“They can do that?” Another person says. The entire conversation is marked by a clear tone of mockery.

From what Jayce knows, being soulbound is an archaic form of marriage, usually done between lovers. It’s not based on property, coin, or child rearing. There is no wedding, but a private ritual held overnight. In Piltover, schoolchildren create plenty of rumors about what it entails.

The bonds and promises made during a soulbinding ceremony are said to be held above all else. One can only soulbind once. The bond cannot be broken. It isn’t common, not even in Zaun.

The other guard members chuckle at this poor woman, telling nasty jokes about what the overnight ritual might entail. Jayce keeps his mouth shut. He has to gain their respect, after all. In the process, he loses some for himself.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

Later in the night, Jayce visits Caitlyn as promised. She allows him inside her chambers. The ship they are on is made for the royal family’s personal use. Since Cassandra isn’t here, Caitlyn gets the Queen’s suite. It has a parlor inside, shelves full of books. A painted ceiling. Were it not for the movement underfoot, one would never suspect they were on a ship.

Jayce and Caitlyn played so many games of hide and seek on this ship when they were younger. An incident where Jayce got trapped in the King’s closet got them barred from this room.

“I heard quite the card game when I went to watch the sunset,” Caitlyn says. She sits at a window seat with a book.

“Yes,” Jayce says, “I’m trying to familiarize myself with the new members of the guard. I don’t think they like me very much.”

“That must be torture for you,” Caitlyn teases. Her smile does not meet her eyes. “Is there a reason you came to see me, Jayce?”

Jayce takes the nearest seat, which happens to be at the desk. He finds a sketch of Vi that reads, ‘WANTED: HIGH TREASON.’ It’s very wrinkled, as if it has been crumpled and then uncrumpled multiple times. Jayce grabs it.

“It looks nothing like her,” Caitlyn says.

“… I miss her,” Jayce says.

“Jayce, I ask again: is there a point to this visit?”

“I wanted to see how you were. You have seemed distant since…”

Caitlyn slams her book shut.

“If I wanted to speak about this with you, I would come to you,” she snaps.

“I am worried about you, Caitlyn. You know, I can understand your pain.”

Caitlyn is one of the only people who knows about the child he killed on the bridge.

Caitlyn scowls at that. She stares out the window.

“You couldn’t even fathom it.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They arrive at the Isle just as the sun starts to rise. Beautiful white stone homes populate the hilly terrain. A gentle, warm sea breeze stirs the air. Seabirds caw in the distance. A talking bird native to the island, a Gilded Gull, yells "welcome" at them, much to the amusement of some of the younger guards.

Jayce and Caitlyn used to come here during their teenage years. It feels very strange to be back. All nostalgia is laced with a certain grief, after all. There is a large manor near the island's highest point meant for royal visits where they are to stay. It has been rebuilt so extensively that Jayce hardly recognizes it, which is probably for the best.

Once they settle, Jayce tries to keep guard members busy by interacting with the public and offering help when needed. On one of the first days, Cara and Jayce help an elderly man find his dog. Jayce goes to bed that night feeling better about his choices.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, sees multiple healers of all types thrown at her by her mother. Almost every night on duty, Jayce has to wake her from nightmares. She refuses to speak of it.

They do seek out more raucous amusement. The Isle of Song is called so for a reason: music. It is rumored that Aquanids used to sing songs to the locals that would lure them to their deaths. Now, it has become a haven for musicians. Caitlyn and Jayce attend an opera that is so outstanding that everything he's seen in Piltover looks like a schoolhouse play.

He tries to avoid thoughts of Viktor but finds him everywhere he goes. In the gold of the rising sun. In the gentle caress of the waves. In the plants and in the trees and in the chessboard set up in one of the parlors. He'd never felt somebody's absence like a stab wound before. Never longed for reconciliation like a lost man longs for home.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

His trouble is not only internal: his leg starts to worsen after the first week. He spends the majority of that eighth day trying to rest. Jayce assigned himself one of the night shifts with Ari in order to keep an eye on the man. The shift requires that they stand outside Caitlyn’s bed chambers. He finds himself leaning against the wall often, much to Ari’s scorn.

He does not want to ask for a chair and draw attention to himself. He doesn’t want to appear weak, but it comes to a head when Ari reports Jayce to Caitlyn. Caitlyn confronts him about it while he’s enjoying supper on one of the Island Palace’s many balconies.

“You should have told me,” she says, sitting down next to him.

“I didn’t want to be any trouble,” Jayce says. “My apologies.”

“What would be trouble is a member of my own guard, the Head of my guard, nonetheless, putting himself through unnecessary harm out of pride,” Caitlyn says. “We’ll get you a seat for your night watch.”

Jayce’s face heats, the shame creeping over him.

“If you insist,” Jayce says. He averts his gaze. He listens to the sounds of the nearby sea. Caitlyn hovers above him.

“Why do you talk to me like that?”

Jayce looks up at her. Her expression is inscrutable, but her hand is in a tight fist.

“Pardon?”

“As if…” she wavers. “As if you are afraid of me.”

“I… I am not sure,” Jayce lies. “It was unintentional.”

Caitlyn leaves him to his dinner. He watches the waves crash on the shoreline. Remembers the way she used to chase him down the beach, and that nostalgia once again feels indistinguishable from grief.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The next morning, with his leg feeling slightly better, Jayce goes into town for some shopping. He quickly finds a beautiful glass rose for his mother and makes small talk with the merchant as she carefully wraps it in cloth. He then stumbles upon a shop full of ceramics. One pot immediately catches his eye. It has little lumaflies painted onto an inky black surface. It would be a perfect gift for Viktor, should Jayce manage to convince him to accept it. Jayce trades it with a dagger.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

On one of their final nights, Jayce and Ari hear a yell coming from inside Caitlyn's bed chambers. Jayce bursts in, expecting to find her in the throes of another nightmare.

Instead, he finds an intruder inside.

With a powerful kick, Caitlyn sends the man tumbling backward across the room. He stumbles over the chaise and lands on the tea table. Hard. Jayce immediately draws his sword and approaches, Ari right behind him. The man has one of Caitlyn's necklaces in his hand. He scrambles to his feet with expert agility.

"Listen," he says. "I just want the necklace. I- I don't want to hurt anyone. Though if you do not let me leave, I will."

The intruder pulls out a dagger. Ari raises his sword at the sight of it. Before Jayce can even take another breath, the man panics and throws it. It manages to hit the spot right between Ari's helmet and his breastplate, stabbing right through the cloth and into his neck.

Jayce's heartbeat surges.

The man uses the split moment of shock that comes over Jayce to dash to the open window he must have come through. Unfortunately, it's in the same direction as Cait.

Jayce chases after him, running on pure instinct. He doesn't want to hurt him. He doesn't want to hurt him. He doesn't want to hurt him, but he might have to.

Cait grabs a shortsword from near her bed and charges at him. The man narrowly dodges a thrust that would have gone right through the gut. There's a brief scuffle before, at an incredible speed, he kicks her legs out from underneath her.

The sound of Caitlyn's head meeting the stone floor is enough to spur Jayce onward. The intruder grabs the sword and makes his fatal mistake.

He raises the sword high, as if he's going to make an attempt on Cait's life. Jayce steps in front of the man before he can strike…

…. and slits the man's throat with a quick swipe of his blade.

He registers that he's done it only after the man drops the weapon.

It's always a horror. Every time. To see one realize they are going to die. To know it's by your own hand.

The man falls to the ground.

Jayce kneels by the man's side. There's an inexplicable ringing in his ears. Blood pools on the floor. The man stares at him with an anguished rage, choking on his own blood. Jayce watches as he fades.

He sees before him all the other deaths he's caused. All the deaths he could cause in the future. He's forced to remind himself that he is the destroyer he was trained to be, not the inventor he once was. That in his time of healing, he fooled himself into thinking it could be any other way.

The intruder's grip eases on the necklace. As his hand tumbles from where it rests on his chest, his sleeve rolls up. He's wearing an intricate metal cuff. He's soulbound.

He takes his final breath.

Jayce's vision blurs. He stumbles. His stomach lurches.

He sticks his head out the window and vomits. He stares down at the sea below. At the stars in the sky. Back down to the blood on his hand.

A hand touches his shoulder. Cait. She says something about his doing well. He did not harm someone too weak to fight. He did not kill the man when his back was turned. He did this to defend the Princess. He acted by his oath. He acted by his oath. Blood continues to pool all over the marble tile.

I just want the necklace. I don't want to hurt anyone.

Caitlyn sounds miles away when she dismisses him for the night.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce is grateful he's been given private quarters. He shakily slips into his night clothes and lets the candle by his bedside burn because he knows horrors will greet him in the dark. He knows a fit of terror is coming upon him regardless — the kind where he feels absent of breath and like his heart may explode.

He curls on his side and closes his eyes, and grasps at the handprint on his chest as if he can hold the man who put it there.

And he needs and he needs and he needs …

And then his vision goes white.

It feels like he's been pulled underwater.

He regains his sight with a gasp, and when he does, he's no longer in his bed chambers. He's somewhere else entirely.

Instead of in his bed, he's lying near a rocky pond full of inky black sludge.

A broken clock tower hovers above him. There's a lightning-shaped crack in the center of the clock face, and more sludge is leaking from it. The air smells putrid - of death and decay.

However, it is the horizon that terrifies him. The land stops as if he's on a small island, but instead of the sea, it's just darkness surrounding it as if he's floating in a void.

Has he fully succumbed to madness? He finds his cheeks still wet from tears, he tries to wipe at his face and discovers he still has his beard here. He sits up and hugs his knees. He has his brace on here. Plainclothes.

"... Jayce? How did you get here?"

That voice. Jayce would recognize it underwater.

Viktor steps out of the shadows, eyebrows furrowed. This Viktor is different. Short hair with no streaks in it. He looks younger. Moves faster. His under-eyes are less pronounced. But he's Viktor. And he's here.

"You shouldn't be here-" Viktor says, sounding almost irritated.

"I am -" Jayce is still struggling for air. "I'm sorry."

The moment Jayce starts speaking, Viktor's eyes widen, irritation giving way to concern.

"What has happened? Are you hurt?" Viktor asks.

"I- I-no- I -"

Viktor sits on a flat rock by Jayce's side and reaches down to touch him. His hand goes right through Jayce as if he's a phantom. Jayce's struggle for air worsens.

"Is this - is this a dream?" Jayce asks.

"No…" Viktor says. "It is hard to explain. I don't quite understand it myself. What happened before you came here?" Viktor speaks to him gently. It somehow makes this worse.

"I- I put my hand over the handprint." Jayce hates how weak his voice sounds.

"Have you done so before?"

"Yes," Jayce confesses, "But nothing happened."

"Something was different about today, then, yes?"

Jayce swallows back the shame.

"I - I had to do something… something horrible," Jayce says. He looks at where the land falls away. Looks into the starry abyss. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Viktor."

"Why are you apologizing?" His voice sounds softer. Careful.

"I don't know. There's so much to be sorry for. All of it?"

Viktor looks so troubled. He leans a little closer. Jayce wishes he could touch him. Smell him. Feel his warmth. Anything at all.

"Jayce, it will be alright, yes? You will be alright. We need to understand how this happened, yes? So it does not-"

Viktor turns around as if he can hear something Jayce can't.

"Someone's coming."

Jayce freezes.

"What?"

"Not here. Back in the infirmary. I have to go. Listen," Viktor looks him in the eye. "You will be okay, Jayce. Please see me at the greenhouse as soon as you arrive. I will watch for your ship from the palace."

Jayce wants to say more, but his vision fills with white again.

Jayce fully returns to himself with a gasp. He's smooth-shaven again. The candle by his bedside still burns.

He does not sleep.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The days start to blur and become shapeless. Ari's body gets sent out on a transport ship. Jayce's memories begin to bleed and seep everywhere. He sees the boy he killed with his throat slit, bleeding out on the street. He sees his victims everywhere he turns. He barely gets sleep.

He spends his final nights too afraid of what the nightmares will bring him.

He keeps the ceramic pot by his bedside to give to Viktor. He packs it carefully in a wooden box. Cherishes the thing like his final shred of hope.

Unable to sleep, Jayce decides to get an early start and watch the sun rise on their last day. He finds Caitlyn reading a letter on the balcony.

"Jinx's death has continued to cause quite a stir, apparently," Caitlyn says, unsurprised to see him up before sunrise. "Even more so in the following weeks. They've allegedly painted her as some sort of hero."

Caitlyn crumbles the letter in her hands.

"It's as if she's mocking me, even in death."

Jayce swallows.

"What kind of twisted people would venerate a monster? A mage, no less?" Caitlyn asks.

The people of Zaun are only slightly less prone to the fear and hatred of mages. However, many have found it hard to believe Jinx was one. Jayce doesn't understand why. He saw her the night of the attack. Saw her glowing purple eyes. Her magic.

"A desperate people?" Jayce finally asks. Caitlyn stares at him for a moment, then, to his surprise, softens. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"… Vi would say the same," she says. It's the first time she's spoken Vi's name since the rite. Caitlyn faces away from him. She looks out to the sea. The chilly dawn air causes her to shiver.

"We kissed, you know? Right before she left. In the armory. The large one hidden under the dungeons. We often snuck down there to get away from it all and - we fought and I -"

She sighs. Pokes at the remainder of her breakfast before dropping her fork.

"It doesn't matter, now, anyway. She chose her side."

"Of course, it matters," Jayce says.

Caitlyn fiddles with the crumbled letter.

"None of what I did changed a thing, did it?" she whispers.

Jayce watches as she bites her lower lip. Her eyebrows scrunch. She blinks rapidly. She's clearly trying not to cry.

"When are we due to leave?"

"No later than seven," Jayce says.

Caitlyn stands, taking the letter with her.

"I am going to go say my goodbyes to the staff."

Jayce watches her go. She sees the way she practically bolts out of the parlor once inside, with the on-duty guards following.

Right before the sun rises, he sees the signature blue glow of a pod of lumaflies land in the trees below, preparing for a day of rest.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

On the journey home, people start noticing a difference in him. He’s been near sleepless for days; his visions are getting worse. Even the slightest of sounds startles him.

Jayce tries to sleep on the first night, only to wake up screaming.

Without much thought, he finds himself wandering to the deck. He stares at the sea. Aside from the stars, the black water and the black sky make it feel like he’s in a complete abyss. It’s a tempting void, that inky black—that infinity.

It calls to him. In many ways, he yearns for it. It’s only the thought of his mother without a son, Viktor, with nobody who knows his secret, and the destruction Cait might cause if he were to welcome it that brings him back to his bed.

Still, sleep does not come. It barely does during the entire three days back to Piltover.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

On the third day, they reach land in time for supper. Despite the lack of sleep, he feels more awake and alive than he has in days. Jayce gets to the greenhouse as quickly as he can.

Viktor isn't here yet, so he sits on the bench behind the greenhouse. There's a small field surrounded by woods behind it. It feels private. Safe from prying eyes. The scent of pine lingers in the air.

As he waits, he decides to check on the pot, hoping it didn't get cracked. He pulls it out of its box to examine it. It's unharmed. He hopes Viktor will appreciate it. That maybe they can rebuild. That this fortnight apart has changed the other man's mind about where they stand. He leans down to put it back in its box when he sees a shadow.

Someone is behind him.

Someone with a massive sword.

He gasps and flings himself off the bench, trying to grasp the shortsword sheathed in his belt. Instead of a killing blow, the person's sword jams into the wooden bench. As he tumbles, he feels himself falling right onto the pot. It shatters. He gasps as the shards of it dig into his arm.

He tries to scramble upward and winds up digging his hand into a massive shard of ceramic. He yells in pain but scrambles to his feet anyway, sword drawn. Before him is a heavily scarred woman with a metal plate where a nose would usually be. Pure fury in her eyes.

"Do you recognize me?"

Jayce shakes his head.

The woman struggles to wrench her sword from the wooden bench.

He tries to land a blow, but she easily dodges it and then hits him square in the mouth. Jayce stumbles backward into the clearing, feeling his lip split and tasting the coppery blood. She wrenches her sword out of the bench before following.

"This is for my son," She declares as she takes another massive swing. Jayce's heart sinks. Her son. He parries the blow, but she wields her much larger blade with such force that he drops his. He hears her sword slice through the air again and narrowly dodges what would have been another killing blow, but in doing so, he stumbles backward and falls to the ground. His leg aches and he's been robbed of his breath, but maybe this is what he deserves.

"Is that truly all the fight you have?" She sneers. "The supposed white knight of Piltover?"

She gets to the ground and straddles him. He realizes she's holding his sword. Replaced it with hers so she can get closer. More personal. Look him in the eyes when she kills him with his own blade. He sees the gleam of the blade rising, the sun's reflection catching on the metal, and then:

The clouds suddenly darken.

She gasps. The blade drops.

The woman slumps forward, and Jayce scrambles out from under her, letting out an undignified cry as he forgets the ceramic in his hand. His arm is a bloody mess.

She slumps face-first into the grass, moaning in pain.

Viktor is behind her. He looks malevolent and his eyes flicker with magic. He's here. His love. His heart.

He's around ten paces away, hand extended outward as if he threw the dagger. Jayce notices how strange the clouds look. Only really spanning over the meadow itself.

The woman remains in the grass, face down, trying to lift herself. Viktor advances, grabbing a sword from his own belt, eyes still glowing. The wind picks up, and rain starts to pour.

He has death in his eyes. The woman can't see him yet. She tries to turn over and screams in pain, slumping back on her stomach.

Viktor puts a foot on her shoulder right near where the dagger was buried. She falls to the ground. He raises his blade.

Jayce can't let this happen. Panic surges within him.

"WAIT!!!" Jayce says. "Don't kill her!"

She hasn't seen Viktor's magic. She doesn't deserve to die. Not for this. People Jayce loves have committed far worse acts of revenge.

And if Viktor killed for him, Jayce would never recover from the guilt of it.

Viktor pauses, and when he gazes at Jayce, the magic fades from his eyes. That warm gold returns. He grits his teeth and then presses his foot deeper into the woman's shoulder, right by where the blade meets the flesh.

Viktor leans on his crutch so he can bend over her. The wind starts to howl and scream, and rain almost lashes Jayce's face.

"When I pull this dagger out, you will likely have less than a quarter of an hour before you lose too much blood to survive."

He speaks in a haunting monotone. Furiously clinical.

"If you ever come for him again. If you ever so much as step foot on these grounds, I will rip your throat from your neck, and I will keep you alive long enough for you to see me hold it in my hands. Do you understand?"

Jayce's mouth goes dry.

She tries to reach for the sword on the ground. Viktor wriggles the dagger in her shoulder with his foot.

"Do you understand?!"

"Yes!! FINE!!! YES!"

Viktor leans down and rips the dagger out. Jayce flinches. She stumbles to her feet, looks at Viktor with a mix of horror and fury, and takes off into the woods.

Jayce can barely move he's so stunned. He's feeling so much at once. Awe. Shame. Horror. A humiliatingly present lust. That ever-gnawing affection.

Viktor drops the dagger. He takes a moment before finally looking at Jayce, and his hardened expression melts like steel in the forge.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"I - yes. I - Viktor." Jayce says dumbly. He stands up, legs shaky. He's able to put weight on his leg just fine. He lets out a sigh of relief.

The wind dies down. The rain weakens to a mist. Jayce shivers, soaking wet.

"We should go inside the greenhouse, yes?" Viktor says. He starts heading towards it before Jayce can respond.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The comforting scent of all the plants and soil washes over Jayce the moment they get inside. He has no idea what to make of what just occurred. That Viktor did all of that for him.

He follows Viktor through the maze of plants and watches him lean against his little worktable in the middle of it all. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are in fists. He sees little sparks of bright white magic dance around his fingertips like sparks on flint.

"Nobody can see us in here," Jayce says, knowing Viktor is fighting it. "You can let go."

Viktor lets out a breath.

"Absolutely not," he simply says. He gestures to a stool. Jayce sits.

"I… I will be right there. I need supplies," he says.

Jayce watches him go. As the shock wanes, the guilt creeps in.

He's a knight. A member of the High Guard, nonetheless, and Viktor is out here fighting battles for him. How pathetic.

Viktor returns with a metal tray and some tweezers. Jayce struggles to find his voice. Viktor doesn't say much. He seems unreachable. Distant.

“Viktor, I am… I am so -”

"I suppose you are quite horrified," he interrupts, "though, perhaps now you understand that I am… not who you think I am, Jayce. I am not… good."

"I could never be horrified by you," Jayce says instantly. Viktor purses his lips. "I was going to thank you. I do not know how I could repay you."

"There is nothing to repay. Now, give me your arm, please."

Viktor rests his crutch against the desk. Jayce feels cool fingers gently resting on the backside of his wrist. The small, clinical touch sends another chill up his spine.

"Who was she?"

Jayce closes his eyes.

"She was the mother of the boy that I-"

And then Jayce sees him.

The boy. The blood pouring from his neck, terror in his eyes, just standing amongst the row of flowers.

"Jayce?-"

The boy tries to speak, but he can't - he's choking on his own blood, after all. It drips down his little hands as he tries to stop the bleeding himself. And how did Jayce ever think this was a grown opponent how did he ever-

"Jayce!"

A hand taps at his face. Viktor looks so worried. Jayce realizes he's shaking.

"What was that? What did you see?"

"Nothing," Jayce says. Viktor glares at him. "It's nothing," Jayce says. "I promise."

Viktor clearly doesn't believe him, but he goes back to working on his arm.

"What is this?" Viktor asks, removing the ceramic.

"It was supposed to be a gift for you. A flowerpot I got from the Isle," Jayce admits.

"That was not necessary, Jayce," Viktor says, finally being predictable.

"It is a gift," Jayce says, "It is not supposed to be."

Jayce flinches at a shard that's surprisingly deep. Viktor grips his wrist more tightly. Jayce savors the touch like he would a dreamless sleep. The guilt reaches a boiling point.

"I am... so sorry, Viktor. You never should have had to fight for me in that way," Jayce chokes. "I am a knight, by the gods. It's my duty to - ah."

Jayce flinches as Viktor pulls a bigger piece from a very tender spot by the underside of his elbow.

Viktor eyes him. He's hard to read, but he's clearly troubled.

"Jayce, if you are required to defend and protect and look after anyone and everyone in the kingdom, who is looking after you?"

For some reason, the question makes him feel incredibly vulnerable. Almost teary. The sleeplessness makes it all worse.

"I don't need anybody to," Jayce tries, "Or at least I shouldn't. That defeats the purpose of me, doesn't it?"

"The purpose of you?" Viktor repeats it like he's struggling to process it, like he's disgusted.

As Viktor lowers the ceramic onto the tray, Jayce swears he can see the slightest tremor in his hand. Viktor never shakes like that. Jayce has to resist the urge to hold his hand until it stops.

Then -

Behind Viktor, under the table, there's the dead woman from the incident at the academy, face covered in the dust of a collapsed building, deformed from a crushing weight.

Jayce flinches before he knows what he's doing, almost causing Viktor to dig the tweezers into his skin.

"JAYCE!"

"Sorry," Jayce swallows. "Sorry."

"What are you seeing?" Viktor asks.

"I'm not -"

Viktor glares.

"I… I have been seeing people I have hurt. I'm sorry."

If Viktor didn't think he was pathetic before, her certainly does now.

"Can you sit?"

Jayce does. Viktor takes his wrist again and gets back to work.

"You apologize for such innocuous, useless things. Has anybody told you that?"

Jayce shakes his head. Some of the pressure in his chest eases, but the shame lingers. Viktor pulls another ceramic piece out and sets the tweezers down. It appears there's only the one in his hand left.

He grabs Jayce's wrist again.

"This one will hurt, but I will heal you right after."

Jayce can't help but gasp when Viktor pulls the shard out of his hand.

The hand gripping his wrist begins to glow. The wound closes, and the pain immediately eases. Jayce sighs in relief before a new sensation meets him.

Viktor's thumb strokes absently at the inside of Jayce's palm long after the wound has closed. So soothing that it feels better than the moment of healing. Jayce lets himself covet it. Bask in the touch. Viktor seems very elsewhere. Jayce is afraid to breathe as if the slightest motion could ruin it.

"Have these visions occurred before?" Viktor asks.

"Yes. Usually after something bad happens or if I can't sleep."

"How long has it been since you've slept?"

"I've been getting some rest now and then, I suppose."

"Jayce…"

"Two nights ago."

Viktor swallows. He takes his hand away.

"For how long?"

"I… I do not know. I went to bed after midnight and woke before dawn."

"Gods," Viktor says. "Well… while you have been away, I happened to concoct a new tonic that should help ease nightmares and help with sleep. I think you should take some immediately once we are done here. It is dangerous to deprive yourself of rest, Jayce."

"That is…" Jayce says. "Impeccable timing. Alright. Thank you, Viktor."

Viktor runs his hand up Jayce's arm, and the cuts on it heal as he does so. The pain vanishes.

Then, Viktor puts those careful fingers under his chin and tilts his head up, and Jayce forgets everything but the feeling of it. Viktor places a thumb right below his split lower lip. Jayce swallows. He feels an arcane charge in the air— sees some light out of the corner of his eye. Feels the sting fade.

Viktor gives him a couple of pats on the cheek. It seems like they're supposed to be playful. A friendly little way of saying Jayce is all healed and Viktor is done. But he's so light with it that it feels incredibly tender, as if he can't help but be gentle.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

There's so much to say. About their fight - About whatever magical connection they shared while Jayce was away, but Viktor seems adamant about not speaking on it until Jayce gets into dry clothes and into bed. They briefly part to change clothes, but it's not long before Viktor shows up at Jayce's door with some tea.

"Get into bed," Viktor says. Jayce freezes. He knows what he means. It's just those words coming out of that mouth that cause him to feel like a puddle at the man's feet.

"Please," Viktor then adds, which does not help.

Once he regains control of his limbs, Jayce stumbles into bed. Viktor draws Jayce's curtains closed, as it is still light outside. Jayce tries not to think about how little he deserves this kindness. Viktor takes a chair and drags it to Jayce's bedside. He pulls a vial out of his pouch. It shimmers in the dark room. The tonic has a glow to it. Pink. Clearly arcane in origin.

"During my studies, I found the tonic is best mixed in with something else," Viktor says, "But never food. You must wait at least one hour after your last meal before taking it, and you cannot eat after. You should start feeling its effects in under an hour. Because this is your first time taking it, and because I've only tested it on myself and Lest, I ask that I sit in observation for a couple of hours, just to ensure you don't have any adverse reactions," Viktor says.

"Stay as long as you'd like," Jayce says immediately.

He can barely make out Viktor's features in the candlelight but sees him nod.

"This is a great coincidence," Jayce says. "That you thought to make something for sleep. I probably make a great test subject."

Viktor, who's about to remove the dropper from the vial, freezes for a moment. It looks like he's debating saying something, but then he continues, putting the drops in Jayce's tea. Jayce takes a sip. Gods, he hopes this works.

"What is in it?" Jayce asks.

Viktor chuckles at that.

"Leave it to you to ask after you ingest it. It has Valerian and Faya flower for sleep. Angel's leaf for stress, and.. Moonroot."

"Moonroot? That's impossible to get, is it not?"

Viktor smirks at him. "I have my ways."

Jayce lies back and finally asks something that has been in the back of his mind all day. The initial reason they were going to meet at all.

"So umm… can you finally tell me what that place was? Where I saw you?"

"It is sort of a … refuge, I suppose. I believe it is where my magic is stored. I suspected it was the mind's way of dealing with the complexities of how magic manifests," Viktor speaks as if he's ashamed of the place. "However, now that you managed to visit so consciously, I wonder if it truly is some sort of pocket realm. The only other mage I've ever met has one too. But theirs is different - also personal."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Viktor sighs. Jayce sees him bow his head.

"You saw the condition it is in," Viktor says. "I had… an event that made it impossible to go to the arcane realm without feeling immense… shame. The landscape changed. It used to look exactly like where I used to play as a child. I have not ventured in there since I saw its corruption. I am… sorry you had to see it."

"I'm not," Jayce says. "Do you think the uhhh… handprint has linked us in some way?"

"I did not think so until that night. But… I felt a tug. As if you were calling for me."

"I wonder what would happen if you put your hand on the handprint," Jayce says after a lingering silence. "Would it link us in some way?"

"... I don't want to risk harming you," Viktor says. "So much could go wrong."

"But-"

"Leave it be, Jayce," Viktor says. "I wanted to speak with you so we could try to understand what happened, not to make matters worse." Viktor doesn't raise his voice, but he answers with a certain quickness that surprises him.

"I uhh… I am honestly happy you wanted to meet at all," Jayce admits.

There's a long silence. Jayce bites his lip.

"Yes, well, you managed to find a way into a magical space I believed to be in my head, so I suppose I have to keep you around."

Viktor's tone indicates he's trying to be light, but Jayce swells with hope.

"So we can continue our studies?"

"I suppose so," Viktor says with a smirk, and Jayce's entire world expands.

"Jayce," he says. "I should also tell you… that tug I felt… I think I may have felt what you were feeling. I did not seek it out. But it may be wise for you to remember that, yes?"

Jayce is suddenly mortified. Because he's definitely put his hand over Viktor's handprint when he -

He shoots up.

"Have you uhh… felt anything before?"

"No," Viktor says. "I swear it. This was the first."

Jayce lets out a huge sigh of relief and lies back down. They need to figure out so much about this connection. Jayce wonders where they can even start. It seems like Viktor is hesitant to even speak of it. It may take some time.

"I should also mention to you that I… I know what happened while you were away."

Jayce's heart leaps into his throat. He sits back up.

"Most people in the palace do. The news of your… 'heroism' and the passing of your fellow Guardsman reached Piltover along with his body."

Jayce puts his hands over his eyes. Of course. He feels like his fingers are caked in blood and like the air smells like sea breeze and-

"Jayce," Viktor's voice is so gentle, "I'm so sorry."

Jayce wants so much. Some of it is contradictory. He wants Viktor to come into bed with him and hold him in his arms and tell him that it will all be okay, somehow. He wants to disappear. He wants the world to be kinder and his mistakes to be undone. He wants the Knighthood to be uncomplicated again, and he wants all the truths he's likely never gotten, and he wants magic and sunlight and somewhere far from here. None of that is very feasible.

"I uhh…" Jayce says, his voice wavering horribly. He notices Viktor's fingers twitch where his hand rests on the nightstand. "I -"

"Why don't we talk about it some other time, yes? This shouldn't be on your mind before sleep."

Jayce nods rapidly.

"Umm…" Jayce asks, "Do you have any stories from the past fortnight?"

Viktor tells him of ridiculous patients and of a very chaotic night he spent at a pub with Lest, and soon they're whispering like schoolchildren staying up past their bedtime. Soon, Jayce doesn't feel like the world is closing in on him.

As Jayce finally starts to feel the effects of the medicine, Viktor tells his best story about Marcus coming in for a wounded scrotum. Jayce laughs so hard it hurts.

"He refused to tell me how it happened," Viktor says. "I think somebody very brave and very smart decided to give him a good kick."

Jayce laughs again.

"Or he somehow got it in his bed chambers."

"If you ever make me imagine Marcus in his bed chambers again, I will lock you away in yours and dispose of the key."

"He must have been humiliated," Jayce says, not even trying to hide his delight. The sleeping medicine is starting to kick in. His hand is slightly over the edge of the mattress, near Viktor's space.

"And very belligerent as always. He's always been wary of me," Viktor says.

"He's a bastard. I'm sorry."

"Yes, well. He's far from the worst."

Perhaps it's the medicine. Perhaps it's the intimacy at all, the delirious happiness he's gotten from simply being able to see Viktor again despite the horrors of the day, but he cannot help the honesty that follows.

"Some days, I want to take you to that lake of yours and stay there."

He hears Viktor's breath catch. Sees the way his eyes go big, and his body stills.

"I don't know," Viktor says. "There's not a home in sight out there. Where do you plan on sleeping?"

"You could magic us a new home."

"Ah, yes. I'll be sure to do that right after I 'magic' us unlimited coin."

Jayce smiles. Viktor leans forward a bit.

"Of course, the bigger issue would be getting there," Jayce says. "We couldn't exactly get far on foot."

"Ah, but I had such a lovely hike through the mountains planned for us," Viktor jokes.

"You could magic us a wyvern," Jayce says, "We could go anywhere we wanted."

Jayce is fading into the sleep he's been craving for days, but now doesn't want. His vision is starting to blur. He closes his eyes with reluctance, not wanting to part with this.

Jayce is expecting another quip. But instead, he just hears a faint little, "I suppose we could."

When Jayce is at that strange edge between being awake and asleep, he swears he feels Viktor's fingers comb through his hair, gently tucking some of the overgrown strands behind his ear and out of his face. It feels too real to be a dream: His fingers get caught in some tangles, and his touch is so feather-light and unsure that it borders on ticklish. Jayce leans into the touch and lets the repetitive motion lull him into a blissful rest.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When Jayce wakes, he feels better than he has in weeks. Sunshine peeks in from the curtains. Jayce notices Viktor left the whole vial of sleep tonic next to his bedside—an incredibly kind gesture, considering how rare its ingredients are.

His heart sinks when he lays eyes on his uniform. Today’s shift is set to be brutal - he has a meeting with the other head Guards for a new weapons demonstration followed by a shift with Caitlyn, where she is due for her first weekly convergence, a meeting between the queen and her high staff.

He takes a deep breath before hoisting himself out of bed.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce has to be on his best behavior for the demonstration. He is the newest amongst the High Knights, and the High Guards, those in charge of guarding royalty and high advisors, are viewed as lesser and "softer" by the High Commanders, who are responsible for more combat and defense-related duties.

Marcus, of course, is also present. He has them all ride on horseback to the farthest reaches of the palace grounds.

Jayce uses the saddle straps Viktor designed for him to make riding easier on his leg. Marcus eyes him with scorn but says nothing.

When they finally arrive, the weapons master stands in waiting. A few assistants from the royal forge are with him. Jayce vaguely recognizes one of them. The man meets his gaze. His eyes widen. It appears he recognizes Jayce as well.

He's trying to place how he knows this man when the weapons master gives a long, performative speech about how much of a struggle it has been shooting down firelights because of the impenetrability of a Wyvern's skin. Then, with care, he removes an arrow from a holder. It's covered in a powder. Jayce recognizes its shimmer. It's talcott.

He is careful with the arrow. It has an unusual shape. Something is attached to the head. The weaponsmaster points an arrow at a nearby tree and fires.

With a massive bang and a magnificent eruption of fire and smoke, it explodes.

The sound pulls Jayce into the grips of panic, and everything past and present starts bleeding together again. Jayce has become quite good at hiding his panic and has to work on composing himself even as his heart races and his ears ring, and his breath comes up short.

The other High Knights begin to cheer. He notices Marcus staring at him, swallows, and cheers along.

Once the raucous celebration is over and everyone has calmed down, the weaponsmaster explains the arrows.

"Sir. Talis's talcott covered shields were a great inspiration for these." Jayce smiles as the other High guards give him respectful nods, but truthfully, he's never felt more torn between pride and shame.

"It would be impossible to transport them without the neutralizing effects of the powder. I've designed the casing of this so that the firelights cannot access the powder and degrade it, unlike they did with the shields."

"It is important to remember that these are live once outside of the powder. They explode on impact, but that impact is sensitive. If you drop them, they might go off. Therefore, we're only going to have our most skilled archers wield these and only for attacks on air invaders."

"Can this take down a wyvern, sir?" The head of the Queen's Guard asks.

"We are hoping the force of the blast. Might have that effect. Regardless, it will rid the wyvern of its rider, even without a direct hit."

Jayce tries not to think about what it would be like to be shot out of the sky.

When they're gearing up to leave, the Weaponsmaster's assistant, who he recognizes, approaches him. The man is older. Grey hairs. Piercing blue eyes. He has a large birthmark on his neck.

"Sir Talis," the man says with a little bow. "I'm sure you do not recognize me, but I have to ask."

His voice, which was always uniquely scratchy, immediately puts everything into place.

Jayce blinks. "... Veris?"

The man beams. Jayce gasps. Veris was a close friend of and assistant to his father.

"Oh! My gods!" Jayce says, "How are you? I had no idea you worked for the palace."

The man pulls him in for an embrace, then grips him tightly and whispers. "Act natural."

Jayce stiffens for a moment before heeding the instruction. The man continues.

"I need to speak with you. Privately. I'll have too many eyes on me in the coming weeks, but soon. Meet me at the fountain in the hedge maze at two o'clock in the morning, the eve of the Autumn ball."

Jayce grips him tighter, his heart racing. He keeps his smile plastered on, seeing that everyone else is distracted with their own conversations.

"What is this about?"

"... Dealings I had with your father that are becoming increasingly relevant. I cannot say more."

He pulls away from Jayce with a big smile.

"You grew so TALL, young man!" He says, putting on a show. He has a very nervous energy to him.

"Thank you," Jayce says, trying to mirror him.

He doesn't know when he got so good at performance.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Following the demonstration, Jayce joins Caitlyn on watch and leads her to the round, where the weekly convergence is held. A massive hundreds-year-old painting spans the length of the domed ceiling, depicting the violent struggles and epic triumphs of ancient gods. He stares at it as he is forced to stand through the meeting. Caitlyn insisted he keep his chair, but there was no way he could do so in front of Marcus or the other guards.

At first, the meeting is straightforward: updates on trade, relations with other kingdoms, and even renovations to the academy are up for discussion. The meeting becomes more interesting when it's Salo's turn to speak.

Apparently, despite the press's best efforts to combat the Firelight pamphlets, positive sentiment for the Firelights continues to grow. When asked why, Salo bows his head, looking almost bashful. A delightful sight to see.

"There appears to be a lack of trust in the press and in… the crown at large amongst many youth in the academy district and within the more... humble parts of lower Piltover. They feel that The Crown seems distant. The pamphlets released by the Firelights, both on the food access problem in Zaun and some of the smaller ones regarding taxation and access to information, have stirred up certain negative sentiments amongst the general public."

"Jinx's death appears to have exacerbated these sentiments. Not only do a majority in Zaun appear to believe Jinx was not, in fact, a mage, but almost half of the people we surveyed in Piltover proper seem to think so as well."

"In Piltover proper?" Cassandra says, clearly troubled.

"We all saw her that night," Caitlyn says. "The claim is ludicrous."

"How do you propose we combat this?" Cassandra asks.

"I'd advise more frequent addresses to the public. And, well," Salo clears his throat. Jayce loves watching him squirm. "I should also note that the public sentiment regarding Princess Kiramman is rapidly… worsening."

Cassandra glares.

"Go on."

"… her raids in Zaun were seen as quite… overzealous. Additionally, the Firelights have made it widely known that there was a casualty involving a young girl during the undertaking of the rite. I would be unsurprised if this were the subject of their next pamphlet."

Jayce swallows. He can see Caitlyn pursing her lips, trying very hard not to let it show just how deeply this affected her. He watches her carefully as Cassandra and Salo discuss strategies to better her image as if she isn't even there.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The meeting takes a dramatic, unexpected turn when Marcus proposes stricter barricades on the bridge between Piltover and Zaun.

"Actually," Cassandra says. "I was thinking of easing them. I had planned to announce this later, but the time seems right. Since Jinx is dead, I have decided to re-enter independence negotiations."

The room goes dead quiet. Even some of the most seasoned guards, who know they are supposed to remain expressionless, raise brows.

"I believe it's a marvelous idea, Your Majesty," Hoskel says between bites of imported chocolate. Salo looks at him like he's grown a second head. Jayce doesn't blame him. Hoskel has been notoriously anti-independence.

"Have you lost your mind?!" Salo blurts at Hoskel before realizing his place. "Excuse me. I am sorry. But we cannot be seriously considering-"

"Offering independence will help us regain trust and build positive sentiment amongst our younger citizens. Additionally, without Zaun being a part of Piltover, we will be less obligated to dedicate resources," Cassandra says. "If the sentiment in Piltover is shifting in favor of independence, we need our citizens to feel listened to. We can not let the death of my husband impede progress."

Jayce swallows. Something about the phrase 'feel listened to' settles strangely within him. He shoves the feeling down. He cannot get worked up over semantics.

Caitlyn stares at her mother with skepticism. Before the attack, it was Caitlyn telling her mother they needed to either do more for Zaun or let the city have its independence.

"With all due respect, your majesty," Salo says. "I am a bit confused about the timing. Hostilities are at an all-time high."

"I am quite obviously aware of that, Presskeeper Salo," Cassandra says. "But this is the work we were doing before the attack, and now that Jinx is dead, I believe we should continue. We have gotten our justice. That being said, I've agreed to consider Agriculture's stance on keeping the majority of the farmlands, as well as demanding access and rule over the depths. Obviously, what we have there is too valuable to give."

As long as Piltover's nobles continue to own the mines privately, Jayce sees no reason why the depths should be kept and governed by the crown. It appears that the majority of the room shares this sentiment. Caitlyn briefly catches his eye before looking away.

Salo looks like he wants to argue. In fact, it seems that everyone, aside from Hoskel and Marcus, is biting their tongue.

He notices one of Salo's guards, a Zaunite, shift uncomfortably. Keeping the farmlands and the depths out of the independence agreement would effectively rob Zaun of any remaining control of its biggest resources. The queen must know something that everyone else doesn't.

But why would she keep it from her most trusted advisors?

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Caitlyn lingers behind after the meeting.

"Mother, What is the strategy here? What has changed your mind?"

"I thought you'd be pleased. You were originally the one who convinced me to enter negotiations afterall… " Cassandra says as a servant helps her into her cloak. “A word of caution, darling. We cannot blame the actions of a few on an entire city. That makes for faulty leadership."

"That's not what this is," Caitlyn says. "The timing of this makes no sense. You'll make us look weak. The farmlands are egregious enough of a request, but the depths -"

"Egregious?" Cassandra says. She leans against her chair. Puts a hand on Caitlyn's shoulder. They rarely touch. Caitlyn looks at her mother's hand in surprise.

"Caitlyn, I remember this time of my life well. It's overwhelming to see everything up close so suddenly. I questioned many of my mother's choices. Some of them I still do. But I came to realize that many of them, even the harshest, had a reason behind them. But if you think you know so much, how would you handle the negotiations?"

Cassandra begins to walk towards the windows. Caitlyn follows.

"I - first, I would not enter them now."

"Disregard the current circumstance. Say this is before the events of last year."

Caitlyn swallows. Jayce sways on his feet. He's exhausted. The tonic seems to be lingering in his system.

"I... I would draw up an agreement that entitles them to the farmlands as long as we receive a certain percentage of their yield. And I would ask that the dealings within the mines remain the same - that the Piltovian nobility have a right to continue importing from the depths. In return for these requests, I would offer our Knights and limited access to our arsenal in the event of an invasion or uprising."

Cassandra nods.

"And what happens when, as a brand new city already rife with conflict, people start rioting in the depths? What if somebody finds a way to destroy the mines? What if a mage returns, and the curse of the fog worsens? Makes working them impossible? These are situations we could easily handle, but I doubt a new government could. Would you truly take the risk of being cut off completely from our largest export? It would weaken us as a kingdom and endanger the livelihoods of thousands of our citizens."

"I don't -"

"You cannot base your decisions solely on idealism," Cassandra says.

Jayce frowns. Caitlyn used to think that way, but certainly. This is a fight they have had before. That is not the case now.

"Everything has a price. By the gods, darling, even my efforts to bring literacy to the poor have come to bite me exponentially, as now, everybody can read vile falsehoods about this kingdom. They feel they can come to their own conclusions without understanding the intricacies involved in what it takes to lead! You have to be practical -"

"But I am!" Caitlyn says, her voice rising. "I'm not sixteen anymore, Mother! I see your plan. And it is a bad one! It makes no logistical sense. And you cannot manipulate me with far-fetched hypotheticals -"

Jayce swallows and makes eye contact with one of Cassandra's guards.

"-If you think this is manipulation," Cassandra interrupts, "Simply talking about the potential dangers we could face, then you have even more to learn than I thought."

Caitlyn glares at her. Cassandra sighs.

"Listen, Caitlyn. I must go. I have a Permitian Prince waiting for me in the lunchroom, and you, if I recall, have a portrait painter waiting for you in the Art wing. Do tell them hello. I miss Sai. They have such a way of capturing one's essence."

"Mother-"

Cassandra starts to leave, her guards following. Jayce bows as she exits.

"Goodbye, sweet Jayce. Tell your mother I said hello."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce trails behind Caitlyn on the walk to the art wing. She stomps as she goes. Two other guard members flank them, their footsteps clanking on the marble. Caitlyn opens her mouth as if to speak but decides against it. Caitlyn pauses and turns to look at the other two guards with them.

"Stay behind for a moment, please. I need to discuss something with Sir Talis."

The guards look at each other and nod. The moment Cait changes course, Jayce knows exactly where she's leading him towards—the palace's unfinished east wing. The Kiramman family used to be much larger, and the east wing offered residence to even the most distant of relatives.

Since the castle was rebuilt with a whitened, itermene layered marble, the south wing has remained untouched. It isn't visible from any part of the city, so it was considered last priority. It remains an odd artifact of the past. Jayce watches where marble meets grey stone.

Caitlyn leads him into an old spare room. Jayce hears some scuttling. No doubt rats. He checks the perimeter anyway. Nothing but his own reflection in a dusty old mirror.

"I'm just. - I'm just confused," Caitlyn says. "Mother says never to underestimate an opponent, but she is underestimating them. Why on earth would they agree to give up a part of their city? Why on earth is she even vying for independence now?"

She seems hesitant. It's making Jayce give more credit to his own hesitancies, which frightens him. Like the floor is about to give way under his feet.

"Don't tell me you fell for her excuses."

"No... I just. I am sure they have their reasons we simply do not understand. Right?," Jayce says. "Because if not, there might be something quite horrible going on that your mother won't speak to. But that doesn't sound like her."

Caitlyn takes a breath. She calms a bit.

"Right. You're right."

Jayce lets out a breath. He is right.

She hesitates.

"But why was Hoskel, of all people so for it all of the sudden?"

"Perhaps now that The Depths would belong to Piltover, he does not care."

"But his reasoning was never about risking the mines," Caitlyn says. "He opposed it on a moral level."

It's been a long while since he's seen Caitlyn like this. Jayce realizes. She bites her nails, deep in thought.

"No... no, something has to be going on," Caitlyn says. "Something bigger. Something I'm not seeing."

Jayce wants to assuage her fears because he finds that doing that helps calm his own. But then he realizes. He has an in.

"You know," Jayce says. "The Royal Archive might have information about the depths we could look into."

"Gods, Jayce, you sure went from 'I'm sure everything is fine' to 'Let's break into a forbidden library' in the blink of an eye."

"It is not a break-in if you were to go, though."

"It definitely is if my Mother does not give me permission."

"Since when have you cared about that?"

"The answer is no, Jayce," Caitlyn snaps. "We don't have to go to such an extreme so quickly."

Jayce swallows. They need Caitlyn for the archive. The archive is guarded by an ancient spell. The doors themselves will only open at the commands of someone with the blood of a Kiramman. When Jayce told Viktor this, he laughed at the hypocrisy of it all. Jayce finds it far less funny.

"Understood."

He does not, in fact, understand. Caitlyn seems quite final about this, so he doesn't push her further. Not yet.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce practically falls asleep during Caitlyn's portrait session. Afterwards, he stumbles to the infirmary. When he arrives, Lest is there patching up some noble he doesn't know.

"Jayce! Be right with you," she smiles. She seems happier lately. Amongst all the chaos and sadness about, it's lovely. Once she's finished, she gives Jayce a hug, and they exchange pleasantries. The conversation he had with Veris is still lingering in his mind.

"Lest... it's unlikely, but have you ever met a man who works in the forge named Veris? I doubt he'd be allowed to come here for medical treatment."

"No... why?"

Jayce tells her what happened. His strange behavior. The meeting he has with him the night before the ball.

"That is... so strange," Lest says. "What do you think he has to say?"

"I have absolutely no clue," Jayce says. "I just - if you could keep your ear to the ground."

A wave of exhaustion hits him. He sways a bit on his feet.

"Yes. Of course - woah there," Lest says. "You aren't just here for a visit, are you? Why don't you take a bed, yeah?"

"Do you know when Viktor is supposed to be back?"

"He's getting tea with Salo and some Barron from Zaun. Salo forced him into it. He should be back soon."

Jayce hates the feeling that broils within him. Viktor is not his. But he'll never ever fathom his connection with Salo, no matter what excuses Viktor gives. He can't dwell on it for long because sleep greets him almost immediately.

The sleep he falls into is an odd half-sleep. He keeps fading in and out of consciousness. He notices the little tabby cat waiting for Viktor to return, cleaning herself on the windowsill. He sees Lest humming to herself while trimming some of the plants. Then… he fades again.

In the midst of his sleepy haze, Lest's voice rouses him.

"- handsome today."

"... no." Viktor's voice. He mumbles something Jayce can't hear. "Can you still tell?"

"Yes," Lest says.

Jayce recognizes the sound of Viktor's crutch on the wood floors and forces himself to open his eyes. Viktor is leaning over his bedside.

But he looks wrong. Unsettling and strange.

"Perhaps I went too heavy on the moonroot, yes? We'll try a different dosage tonight if you'd like."

"Mmm…" Jayce blinks, "Something is… what's wrong? You look…"

He doesn't want to say wrong. But he looks very wrong.

Viktor blinks. He rubs at his neck.

"Oh," Lest says. "Oh, that's adorable."

"Lest…" Viktor says. "It's none of your concern, Jayce. I'm completely fine."

Jayce's vision feels like it's blurring and creating duplicates. He rubs his eyes. Lest starts chuckling.

"What?" Jayce asks. "What's happening?"

Viktor sighs.

"Salo sprayed him with an itermene cologne," Lest chuckles. Viktor averts his gaze.

Oh dear.

"Lest!" Viktor hisses.

"Fine, fine! I'm going. See you later, Jayce."

Jayce barely has the wherewithal to wave her goodbye, considering his embarrassment.

There's a long-held myth in the kingdom that itermene will cause an adverse effect on the vision should the seer already think the object cannot be improved.

"I'm uhh…" Jayce starts. "I'm sensitive to itermene. I can usually point it out even when it's worn in small amounts."

Viktor coughs. "I know."

Jayce needs to change the subject.

"Umm... so Caitlyn... I asked her to go to the archive today."

"I assume she said no?"

"...yeah. Which is weird because she really had reason today."

"Going to the archive may answer questions she does not even want to ask," Viktor says. Jayce never thought of it like that. It's yet another suggestion that makes him feel uneasy.

"We'll uhh... we'll find a way," Jayce says. He's feeling incredibly exhausted again. He lays back on the pillow.

"I'll go wash," Viktor says. "You should rest. The medicine won't hurt you; it's just demanding more sleep."

Jayce happily listens.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Viktor fixes Jayce a new tonic with less moonroot.

Jayce takes the tonic as directed. An hour before sleep - no food before or afterward..

Once again, the nightmares do not come.

But he does dream.

He dreams of soft skin and kind words. He dreams of little sighs and lips on his neck. He dreams of That’s it, Jayce. Perfect. Gods, you’re perfect.

Viktor speaks to him like he’s still young and full of hope. Like his hands are clean and his heart untainted. Viktor holds him like he’s worthy and whispers more little praises where his lips rest at the shell of his ear. And Jayce is safe in his arms. Jayce is wanted in his arms. He doesn’t have to hurt anybody or be sworn to anything, and -

He wakes long after sunrise.

Later in the day, when he finally gets to see Viktor after his shift, Viktor looks up from where he’s grinding some herbs and asks him if the tonic worked. If he slept without the nightmares.

“Yes,” Jayce says. “Thank you.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

As expected, the Firelights respond to the Queen's Independence stipulations with a resounding 'no,' but the Crown continues to try to negotiate.

The plan to help Caitlyn's image also goes into effect.

These excursions have varying levels of success. Caitlyn has never been brilliant at speaking to the public. Jayce is delighted to be a part of these excursions regardless. Offering aid to the people of Piltover is far more in line with what he always imagined being a knight would entail.

Jayce soon feels better than he has in a long, long time. It is not simply because of the work.

He manages to worm his way back into Viktor's life. The two begin to form a routine of sorts. Jayce has his shift during the day, and then the two meet at night to experiment with different concoctions, often using each other or willing patients with varying results.

They do not talk about their fight in the tower. They barely discuss Viktor's magic or his secret research. On some days, Viktor is colder than others. Sometimes, the occasional nightmare fights its way past Viktor's tonic and rears its ugly head. Some days he's thrust into his memories so quickly and with such violence, he worries he'll drown in them. Viktor seems to have a sense for it. He is gentler on those days, but never patronizingly so.

Jayce finds himself craving the other man's touch like water. Viktor almost never initiates.

Jayce asks him, at one point, after he leans in close and puts a hand on Viktor's shoulder while Viktor is testing an ointment on some pig skin, if he is alright with Jayce's touches. Viktor blinks and backs up a few paces.

"I -," Viktor says. "Yes. It is fine."

"Are you sure?" Jayce asks. "I can stop. I have been told I express my physical affections a bit more freely than others, and you seem...tense, I suppose?"

"I… I spent four years in near-complete isolation shortly after I became a mage," Viktor admits. "And even following the isolation … I am simply not used to it. But… I do not dislike it."

Four years without another soul sounds like torture. Merely thinking about it makes Jayce feel unsteady. Enraged at the world. He puts a hand over Viktor's and squeezes it.

"I'm so sorry," Jayce says. Viktor's hand is stiff under his.

"For what?" He says, staring at their hands.

"That you had to be alone for so long. I… cannot fathom it."

"Oh, that is alright. I am quite content on my own. I think I'm better off that way."

"You aren't. Nobody is," Jayce squeezes his hand again.

Viktor's breath hitches. There's a moment of quiet. Then, he squeezes Jayce's hand back before letting go entirely. Jayce's heart beats with such ferocity that he feels it might try and run from him.

"Let's get back to work, yes?" Viktor says.

So they do.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Around a week later, Jayce has a terrible shift. Caitlyn has a schoolhouse visit that goes very wrong when she sees a child who reminds her of the girl she killed during the rite. They have to leave early, muttering hushed excuses to the teachers. Caitlyn refuses to speak with him about it.

Afterward, Cara and Jayce join some of the other knights on Caitlyn's guard in the dining hall, passing by various Palace staff and visiting nobility as they make their way to their seats. Jayce has come to enjoy the camaraderie with this new guard, but he tries to rush his way through his meal. He has an exciting night planned with Viktor - they're going to test a new numbing agent.

"Gods, Talis," Grey says, "what did your soup do to you? Have you even taken a breath?"

"I'll bet he has plans tonight," Ilee says with a smirk.

"Yeah?" Grey asks, "With your Apothecary?"

There's something in his tone that Jayce doesn't quite appreciate.

"Perhaps you should focus less on my love life," Jayce says, "And more on yours."

"Oh? So it is a love life?"

Jayce blushes.

"You know what I meant."

Grey leans in.

"I do wonder," he says, "What it is like to court a Zaunite."

Ilee smirks behind her spoon as if Grey just said something particularly funny.

"... What do you mean?"

"It just has to be different, is all. I hear they don't follow the same practices."

"I hear many Zaunites court multiple people at the same time," Ilee says.

"Is it true it's tradition to jump right to bed?" Grey asks. "I bet it's wild."

It's the scorn in his voice, truly, that pushes him over the edge.

Jayce is horrified.

"We are not courting," Jayce snaps. It's loud enough that a few people turn around to stare. He lowers his voice and leans in. "And regardless, this is incredibly crass."

For some reason, that makes them laugh.

"Easy, boss. We're simply curious," Ilee says.

"Don't be such a stiff," Grey says, "It's just us…"

Jayce realizes he's losing their approval. He's seen them stop talking when he approaches. He wonders how many conversations like these they have. This reminds him, distantly, of the way people spoke in his training years. Jayce always thought it was all a show. Now, he's not so sure.

"We all took a vow to aid all members of our kingdom," Jayce hisses. "If we view the people of Zaun as -"

"Oh, gods, we didn't mean anything by it," Ilee says, talking not unlike a child who feels they are being unrightfully scolded.

"Of course, we'd step up to aid anyone," Cara says. "It was all jokes, Talis. We swear it."

Jayce can't take this anymore. They're speaking like he's gone insane.

"Perhaps your jokes should involve a little more respect for the citizens of the very kingdom we swore to protect."

"Where are you going? You haven't finished your soup," Cara says.

"I'm full," Jayce says. Truly, he's lost his appetite.

He hears them mutter amongst themselves as he leaves.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When he gets to the infirmary, he finds Viktor visiting with the tabby cat he refuses to name, cooing at it and muttering in a soft little voice. Jayce is too far away to hear. He stays where he is and watches Viktor pet her while she lazes on the windowsill.

The sight is immediately calming. Unbelievably charming. Jayce immediately feels himself soften, his heart open. His affection is so present it's almost painful. He watches as Viktor turns around and finally catches his eye. His eyes go huge, and he startles a bit. Jayce smiles.

“Jayce,” Viktor says. "Errr… hello. I got the antidote, so -"

"Yeah?" Jayce says. "How's the cat you still need to name?"

"She is fine. And I don't. She is a stray, Jayce." His voice goes all gooey and adoring. He looks at the cat, clearly addressing her. "And a big nuicance! Isn't that right?"

The cat down from the windowsill and starts weaving between Viktor's legs, rubbing her cheek against his crutch.

"Yeah," Jayce says. "She's just a stray."

Viktor's blushing. Jayce can tell from across the room.

"I do not know why I put up with you," Viktor teases, making his way to their workstation.

Viktor pulls out the antidote they have been trying to obtain with glee. They've been working tirelessly to create a numbing agent that will help with minor dental operations - one that isn't nearly as strong as acermine, which allows for major surgeries but can be very hard on the body, nor one as unpredictable as the pain medicine Viktor gave Jayce the day they met.

They've decided to try a paste that contains a small amount of Nightvine, an incredibly deadly arcane plant known to numb the body before it kills you. The antidote is incredibly rare, but Viktor has finally obtained it, allowing them to test their paste.

Jayce has already convinced Viktor to let him be the test subject this time. He hops up on the stool—Viktor's demeanor changes.

"Are you sure we can't test this on me?" Viktor asks. Jayce shakes his head.

"It's my turn. You tried the last one."

"The last one didn't contain nightvine."

"This will work, Viktor," Jayce says.

"We don't know that," Viktor says with a sigh, handing Jayce the paste.

"Just your upper gum."

"I know."

He rubs the paste on his gums before Viktor can protest. Viktor looks incredibly nervous. He prepares a quill and parchment for notes and the instruments he's going to use to test Jayce's pain tolerance and carefully opens the antidote.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Jayce nods. He feels a tingling sensation. Viktor gets out a needle. Holds Jayce's chin up. Jayce opens his mouth, exposing his gums. Viktor looks very pained but moves the needle closer to Jayce's face.

"Does that hurt?"

Jayce shakes his head. He doesn't feel anything at all.

"Alright, we'll try the more painful one now."

There's a small pinch by his molars.

"Does that hurt?" Viktor asks. Jayce sees the light emit from his hand as Viktor quickly heals whatever he just did.

"I felt it, but it was just a little pinch," Jayce says—Viktor beams.

"This is… a very good indicator that it might work." He says. They will obviously have to test on more people and see how much pain it can mask, but it's very promising. Viktor's smile is infectious.

Jayce throws his hands in the air.

"It worksss!" His voice sounds strange due to the numbness. Viktor starts to laugh. Jayce could spend every waking minute like this. Creating with him, laughing with him, and being in his presence. A warm breeze blows through the cold room. Behind him, some sconces light. A little bit of white light crackles in the air. Magic.

"Woah," Jayce says.

Viktor notices it, too.

"I'm - I'm sorry," Viktor says.

"Don't be," Jayce says, voice still stilted from the numbness in his upper lip... "It's beautiful."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They celebrate and discuss their next steps over a game of chess in the gardens. They discovered this little table hidden away behind some hedges and have since started to come here when the nights are warm enough. With the way the weather is changing, Jayce worries this may be their last of the season.

"Ultimately, I am just happy we have found a solution that isn't the torture of consciousness or the unsettling nature of the Acermine," Viktor says, surprising Jayce by moving his rook.

"Have you been on acermine?" Jayce asks.

Acermine oil has completely revolutionized medicine as they know it. The substance puts people into a deep state of unconsciousness, allowing for major surgeries. Many lives would have been lost or made significantly harder without it. But it's also a risk every time.

The sensation of being under acermine is said to feel like death itself. When some people emerge from an Acermine slumber, they do so forever changed. It is rare, but by no means unheard of.

"Many times," Viktor says, watching as Jayce takes his bishop with a certain nonchalance that makes Jayce worry he's made the wrong move. "All under my mentor. Once for my chest, which was by my own request. The other times, I acted as my mentor's… test subject."

Jayce stops focusing on the game entirely. Suddenly, the chill in the air feels unbearable.

"...Sometimes he'd experiment with my leg, trying to find various ways to better it. At other times, the focus was more on surgical exploration. Trying to test different incision and suturing methods. In return, I was allowed to use one of his laboratories for my own work."

Viktor tries to say this as if it isn't atrocious. Jayce can hardly speak.

"That's horrific, Viktor."

"I was on acermine, Jayce," Viktor says. "It's not like I remember any of it."

But he had to recover.

"Why wouldn't he just use a corpse?"

"It is difficult to use a corpse when you are trying to experiment with what someone might survive."

Viktor has a hand resting on the side of the table. Jayce reaches for it. He feels Viktor stiffen and pull his hand away.

"It's alright, Jayce, truly. My time as a test subject is long past."

Jayce wants to ask more, but Viktor clearly does not want to talk about it. With a dawning horror, he remembers how often he said he wanted to study Viktor for his magic. He realizes they've been testing medicines on him.

"I… gods, Viktor. Is that why you don't want to study your magic? Or the handprint? And all the medicine we've tested... I hope I never have made you feel like -"

"I'm hesitant about my magic because it's dangerous. But it's not like that with you. With Singed, my mentor, it was… isolating - I was an object. "

"What's it - what's it like with me?"

Viktor freezes. He fully takes his hands off the chessboard. He fiddles with his cloak.

"I don't know... every time we test something or experiment, it is a discovery I could only make with you. It is the opposite of isolating, I suppose."

Jayce's heart swells. Viktor worries at his bottom lip. There's a moment where the silence between them is so heavy it's as if one could hold it. Viktor suddenly becomes incredibly re-invested in their game.

There's not a second that goes by when they're together where Jayce doesn't want to kiss him.

But the sentiment blooms and expands, looking at the man in front of him.

"Viktor," Jayce chokes. "I -"

"Check," Viktor interrupts. "You should not have taken my bishop. See? You left yourself completely open."

Viktor is being purposefully obtuse. Jayce allows it. Clearly, he does not want to talk about it. Clearly, he wants this left alone.

Jayce loses the game. Of course he does.

He never minds.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When she's not on diplomatic missions, Caitlyn has been busy with a secret investigation into her mother's connection to Zaun's depths. She has been covertly asking members of the staff for any information about secret goings-on. She scours old maps and reports. She has a dedicated place in her room where she's laid everything out, but none of it clicks together.

The weekly convergence meetings they've been having with Cassandra and the high advisors provide no answers, just more questions. Often, the concern of the crown is strictly about appearances. Appearing altruistic. Appearing welcoming.

Caitlyn and Jayce don't talk about it much. They are both processing in their own ways. After each meeting with the Queen, Jayce feels more and more lost.

Caitlyn's curiosity is still somehow not enough to get Jayce to convince her to take him to the archive. He tries to get her to cave once more after a particularly rough meeting where Marcus and Cassandra decide to re-barricade the bridge.

"You realize every time you suggest we go to the archive, you essentially suggest treason?" Caitlyn hisses. "And regardless, we both know what happened the last time you got curious."

Jayce flinches. He immediately remembers it all in vivid detail. He can hear the agonized screaming and smell the crushed stone and fire and -

"Gods. Jayce," Caitlyn says, clearly feeling guilty. "It's just… it's not smart. For either of us. That is all."

"I think," Jayce says carefully, trying to catch his breath. "That you're afraid of going because you're afraid of what we might find."

Caitlyn looks scandalized, but Jayce can tell he's touched on something true. "Get out," she hisses. "And we will not speak of this stupid archive again, do you hear me?"

Jayce scowls but does as requested.

Viktor's magic is beautiful, but Jayce is still anxious to study it. He's worried about Viktor's control over it. He wants to make sure he's safe. The more time they waste, the more likely he is to be found. Jayce will get into that archive if he has to dig his way in with his bare hands.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The night before the Autumn ball finally arrives. Jayce has been anticipating this day every day since Veris came to him. Despite his talking to his mother and digging through the forge, he still has no idea what possibly could have had Veris so paranoid.

He hasn't told Viktor about this. He feels guilty because he essentially tells Viktor everything, but he has a sneaking suspicion that if Viktor knew, he'd insist on coming. Jayce will not risk his safety like that.

In the dead of night, Jayce slips on a cloak and makes his way out of the guard's wing and into the gardens. He used to play in the maze with Caitlyn all the time as a child. He knows how to get there. The night is quiet. Hauntingly so. Barely a cricket. Barely any activity on the streets. He hears the sound of his own feet crunching on the autumn leaves.

The chill in the air nips at his ears. He arrives at 1:55. Nobody has arrived. It's incredibly dark. Many of the royal balls take place on a new moon, so there's little light.

He thinks he can hear his own racing heart.

He wonders if this was a mistake.

He stares at his watch. 2 am. As promised. The old fountain is dry from lack of use. He sits on the ledge of it. And waits. And waits. And waits. In the distance, a dog howls. At one point, he swears he hears a branch crack. He turns around. A shadow shifts. Or perhaps it was his eyes trying to adjust to the dark.

Jayce draws his sword.

"Hello?" he asks. He hates how his voice wavers. "Is somebody there?"

With a racing heart, he walks towards the edge of the maze, with no idea what could possibly wait for him around the corner. He peeks around it. Nothing. A faint shadow from a tree branch dances against the grass.

He tries to give his father's old friend proper time. But by the time he can see the sun peek out from behind the sky, he knows that Nobody is coming.

He spends all day before the ball trying to find Veris. He talks to the weaponsmaster and the staff and even to a friend of his. Nobody knows a thing.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Each ball in Piltover represents something different. Winter is more somber, focusing on loss, Spring focuses on new love and courtship, though it's devolved into something a bit more debaucherous over time. Summer focuses on true love. Asking someone to go to the summer ball is a very serious step in the relationship. As much as Jayce has courted, he's never taken someone. Autumn, tonight's ball, focuses on Family, Kingdom, and Harvest. A massive feast where each house gets a certain number of guests, followed by large group dances.

Viktor is not the only person who got an invite to the Talis's table. However, both Jayce and his mother are incredibly excited that he accepted their offer.

Members of the guard are expected to attend in uniform. Jayce does, giving himself a quick shave and spending probably too much time on his hair than necessary.

When Jayce sees Viktor in the infirmary, his mouth goes dry. Viktor is in a deep black, form-fitting formal outfit with a magnificent coat. He's used some sort of light paste to pull his hair back away from his face.

"Is something wrong?" Viktor asks.

"What? No." Jayce says. Viktor eyes him with suspicion but decides to let it go.

"Let's get this over with, then," Viktor says. He walks past Jayce and right out the door.

Suddenly, Jayce is deeply nervous. In fact, he feels like a teenager trying to court someone for the first time. This isn't courting. He knows that. But Viktor looks so so handsome.

"You umm…" Jayce says as they leave the infirmary. "You look very nice."

He can see Viktor smile.

"I am glad to hear I will not stick out too much," Viktor says.

He will, but only for the right reasons.

"What can I expect tonight?" Viktor asks.

"Oh! Umm. Well, usually at the start there's some talking amongst each other. We have a table near the Royal table. Usually, Cassandra gives some sort of speech. Tonight, I think they're unveiling Caitlyn's portrait, so that should be exciting. Umm. Lots of good food. Good drink. Silverwine is customary."

"I've never had it," Viktor admits.

"It's umm…" Jayce says. "It's nice."

Silverwine isn't quite like a true wine. It's made from fermented Silverberries. It can provide an incredibly euphoric feeling and often combats negative emotions and thoughts, unlike most alcohol, which can worsen them. It's very expensive, and the berries are quite rare and hard to grow.

When they cut through one of the palace's courtyards, the sound of protest from outside gets louder. Viktor pauses for a moment and simply listens before they continue on their way.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When they arrive, Jayce's mother and her friends are already there. Cara is also at their table, as is Lest. Lest seems already a bit silly on silverwine. She's been far more relaxed as of late. Whatever paranoia she was feeling is either gone, or she's no longer expressing it to him. He speaks with his mother's friend, Sylvie, about the merits of his new position before Caitlyn comes over.

Jayce watches as some staff wheel out a massive portrait, at least ten feet tall, covered in a sheet.

"Gods," Cait says. "I need more wine."

"How are you tonight?" Jayce asks. "Is Grey behaving himself?" Grey is one of the guards who Jayce tasked with being on duty tonight. It was fully out of spite for his comments about Viktor in the dining hall. He has no regrets.

"Yes. But my mother isn't. She wants to put on a huge show about my portrait. She's displaying it in the museum before hanging it."

"What," Jayce asks. "Is it not flattering?"

"I have yet to see it," Caitlyn says. "On top of it all, my mom is desperately trying to pawn me off to some diplomat from Noxus, acting like we have so much in common. Please, I know it would be to improve trade."

"Your life truly is full of challenges," Jayce teases.

"Shut up. Oh Gods. There she is."

Caitlyn shuffles in front of him. Jayce turns around to see a short, red-headed woman looking around the ballroom.

"Are you hiding?" Jayce laughs. "Not great behavior for a princess. She's coming this way, by the way."

"Damn. Damn!" Caitlyn takes off towards a drinks table.

Jayce watches as Viktor makes his way around the room. He hates the way people stare at him. Like he's fascinating. Like he's something on display. It's so surprising to him how well Viktor can conduct himself in these settings. He's not great at hiding his feelings, and he knows Viktor absolutely despises 99% of nobility. Yet somehow, in these rooms, he's able to pull it off.

He watches as Viktor talks to Salo. Sits with him. Clenches his jaw when Viktor puts a friendly hand on Salo's shoulder.

"How is it going with him?" A voice from behind him says.

It's his Mother.

"Ma…"

"Can we please drop the whole act where you pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about and he isn't perfect for you? For once?"

Jayce swallows. He feels his face heat.

"He… I don't know," Jayce says. "I swear there is something there, but he seems determined not to acknowledge it."

His mother frowns.

"Have you spoken with him about it?"

And risk losing him? No. Absolutely not.

"Not exactly…"

His mom gives him a judgmental look.

"It isn't that simple. He's… flighty."

"Well, he clearly adores you. How is the sleep tonic, by the way?"

Jayce frowns.

"How do you … how do you know about that?"

His mom seems to realize she's said too much.

"Ma…"

"... Lest told me."

"Were you gossiping about us?"

"Is it such a crime...She said he'd been working on it for you for months."

Jayce is hit with butterflies. He blinks. He cannot believe it.

"I assumed you'd know," she says.

Jayce looks over at where Viktor is talking to a young noblewoman. Viktor meets his eye across the room and smiles. Jayce feels so flushed. That tonic has worked such wonders for him. It's given him a part of his life back. And it was all for him. He didn't take credit for it, nor did he correct Jayce when Jayce assumed it was just another project. Something dangerous churns within him - something that feels a lot like hope.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Before the portrait unveiling, The Queen gives a speech about unity, forgiveness, and moving forward. Then Sai, the portrait artist, gets up on the stage to reveal the painting of Caitlyn. Caitlyn stands by their side, feigning excitement.

Sai lowers the sheet.

It’s…

Huh.

The quality of the work is incredible, of course, but Caitlyn’s demeanor is unnerving at best. She looks… terrifying. Her outfit is all dark blue and black. Sharp angles. Her eyes fixed in a glare, looking down at some sort of unknown enemy below. She looks incredibly powerful. But also Militant. Unforgiving. The crowd cheers.

Caitlyn hugs Sai. She’s putting on a good show, but Jayce can tell by the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes that she absolutely hates it. He claps with the rest of the crowd to not be rude.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When they are summoned to their tables, Viktor comes back looking a bit tired. He engages in friendly conversation with his mother's friends, who ask him borderline invasive questions about growing up in Zaun. Was it scary? Are you happy to be here? Would you ever go back?

Viktor fields them as best as he can over the first course. When the second course arrives, Jayce tries to pick up the conversation for him. Cara and Lest are wrapped in their own conversation, being of little use when it comes to defending Viktor from this group of Piltovian mothers.

When the third course comes around, Viktor asks him how many courses there usually are.

"Six," Jayce says through a bite of vegetables. "Including the dessert."

The massive ballroom is bright and loud, and palace staff hustle about as if in the guard. Viktor grows a bit quieter. Jayce notices he's watching Sylvie take a massive helping of caro to complement the roast and goes cold.

He's been so stupid.

This must be horrible for him. He watches numbly as Viktor tries to go through the motions, but he cannot take it. Before they're even finished with the course, Jayce finds himself scooting in a bit closer and whispering in his ear.

"Do you want to leave?"

Jayce tries not to focus on the mole he just discovered right behind Viktor's ear. If he could make Viktor shiver if he kissed it. He tries not to focus on the heat of him. The smell of him so up close.

"What?" Viktor chuckles, whispering back. "That would be terribly indecorous, Jayce Talis."

"I do not care," Jayce says. He's trying to be quiet, but his lips are so close to the shell of Viktor's ear that it's dizzying. He sees Viktor shiver.

"Alright.." Viktor says.

Before Viktor can continue, Jayce scoots back towards his seat and starts to cough. Loudly.

"Good heavens!" Sylvie says.

"Sorry," Jayce says, "I've been feeling a little warm. And now my throat… Viktor… am I overheating?"

Viktor looks unimpressed, but he plays along. He puts a hand on Jayce's forehead.

"Oh dear… quite so. I should take you to the infirmary."

Jayce can tell his mother does not believe a second of this. Neither do Lest and Cara, but his mother's friends seem to. That's really all that matters. As long as word spreads that he was feeling ill, it will give both of them grounds to leave.

With a bit more of a performance and a show of coughing some more, Jayce and Viktor make their way out of the ballroom.

"You're a terrible performer," Jayce teases the moment they're out of earshot.

"That is an incredibly bold statement coming from someone who made it sound like they had the plague," Viktor hisses.

They're trying to weave their way through the ballroom. Jayce puts a hand on Viktor's back without thinking, but Viktor doesn't protest. He feels the hard shell of the brace Viktor uses for support. The ties there. A waiter walks by with a tray full of silverwine bottles.

"Oh, sir. May I have one of those?" Jayce asks.

"A … a bottle?' The man asks.

Jayce nods. The man hands him a bottle, trying not to judge

"Of course, Sir Talis."

By the time they've escaped the ballroom, Viktor's doing the best he can not to chuckle. Jayce reluctantly takes his hand from Viktor's back, knowing he no longer has an excuse to put it there.

"Where are we taking this?" he asks.

Jayce has an idea. He can handle the climb tonight.

"Are you up for some stairs? If not, we can go elsewhere. It's no trouble either way."

"Lead the way, Sir Talis," Viktor teases.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce takes Viktor to one of the parapets, where he knows no guards are stationed. The autumn chill is quite sharp, but Viktor seems to be doing fine in his coat.

The parapet overlooks both Piltover and Zaun. It's one of Jayce's favorite views. Now, with Viktor here, leaning over the rail and staring down at the city below, nothing is more beautiful to him. He sees the way Viktor's shoulders relax once he's away from the ball.

"I should have warned you about tonight's excesses," Jayce says, the guilt gnawing at him. "Before now, I didn't think much about how strange it is. I'm sorry."

"Other people warned me," Viktor says. "I should have been able to conduct myself more appropriately."

"You did wonderfully," Jayce says, trying to stuff down the need for Viktor to tell him it's okay, Jayce. I know you meant no harm.

"I keep telling myself that knowing will stop me from feeling," Viktor says. The breeze picks up. Music starts to play downstairs. Jayce goes to stand next to him. "I knew you were becoming a knight, yet I … still could not handle your swearing-in. I knew tonight was going to be full of excesses, yet here I am, forcing you to leave because I could not handle it."

"I've always hated these things," Jayce says. "I wanted to be with you. You didn't force me."

Jayce can tell Viktor is struggling to believe him. And he doesn't understand how it's possible that Viktor cannot see how wanted he is. Jayce gestures to the bottle. It's corked, but the cork is not all the way inside.

"How are we gonna -"

Viktor grabs it and uncorks the bottle with his teeth. Jayce forgets what he was going to say. He forgets where they even are for a moment as he watches Viktor take a huge swig, throat bobbing as he swallows. He then points the bottle towards him.

"Do you… want some?" Viktor asks. There's a glint in his eye. A dangerous glint, as if he's caught Jayce staring and does not mind it.

"Yeah," Jayce says. He takes a sip. "Be careful with this. It's strong."

Viktor snorts.

"Nothing in Piltover is 'strong.'"

"Yeah, well. This is silverwine. It takes a little time to take effect, and once it does... well."

Viktor grabs the bottle from Jayce and takes two more big gulps. Stubborn. It's his own funeral. Jayce wants to kiss him more than he wants his next breath. Viktor shifts on his feet. Right. He's probably uncomfortable. Jayce hurries into the storage area, grabs some old blankets, and lays them on the ground.

Jayce carefully lowers himself atop the blankets and reaches a hand out. Viktor walks over. He hesitates for a moment. Jayce half expects Viktor to ignore it, but he leans his crutch against some crates and takes Jayce's hand, letting him help him down.

The two sit atop the blankets and lean against the castle wall. Jayce watches as Viktor looks up at the stars. Tonight feels charged. Incredibly so.

Viktor leans his head back.

"Huh," he says. "Perhaps that silverwine is a bit stronger than anticipated."

Jayce can't help but laugh. He is starting to feel it, too. Downstairs, the next song begins to play. It's very high energy and dramatic. Viktor starts to laugh a little.

"You would think for all the time you people have that you'd raise better musicians."

"Did you know I once played the lute?" Jayce asks. Viktor raises a brow. "For three days. When I was seven."

"You sound like quite the virtuoso."

"I was very upset I was not immediately good at it," Jayce says. "So after three lessons, I stormed outside and smashed it into a tree."

Viktor gasps, playing it up. "Jayce!"

"Ma was furious."

"Rightfully so!"

"I know," Jayce smiles. He taps his fingers playfully against the back of Viktor's hand; the silvervine makes the touch feel even more thrilling. "In my defense, I felt so horrible about it that I started crying almost immediately. It's just my fingers were so small, and the strings were so big."

"You weren't used to being bad at things," Viktor says. "Insufferable."

He says 'insufferable' with this loose, unfettered smile that makes Jayce feel like a puddle at the man's feet.

"I doubt you were much better," Jayce says, trying to keep it all light, trying not to kiss him. "You probably were outpacing most academy astronomers by age six."

"Oh, no. Not at all," Viktor says. Jayce gasps as Viktor absentmindedly and inexplicably starts dancing his fingers along his arm as if he's fidgeting. "I was eight at least."

Jayce laughs, face incredibly heated from the playful bit of contact. Viktor rubs little circles into the back of his hand. He tries to burn it into his memory.

"This is some pretty strong wine," Viktor says. "It's nice." He grabs the bottle with his free hand and takes a hasty swig. A drop spills from his lips in the aftermath.

He licks it up with a little swipe of his tongue.

Jayce's fingers ache from where he's clenching them at his side.

This might actually kill him. Viktor has a huge smirk on his face. He lays down on the blankets. Jayce remains sitting up. Viktor's head is by his mid-thigh. Viktor closes his eyes for a second; he has such nice lashes. He has such nice everything.

"There was one thing I was bad at when it came to my studies," Viktor says, eyes still closed. The feeling of the silverwine is absolutely taking effect. Jayce feels so giddy just to be here with him. "Poetry."

"Poetry was a subject?"

"In a way. With the new literacy programs in place, each schoolhouse in Zaun was only given so many books, which I had read through. My father had this old book of love poems by the ancients. I had easily worked my way through every other book in the schoolhouse as well as the other school for the older children. But I could not, for the life of me, understand what was going on."

Jayce is listening. He is. But the need to touch is starting to actually wear away at him. His hair looks so soft. Jayce reaches out and runs his fingers through it. Viktor stiffens.

"I'm sorry," Jayce says. "Is this okay?" Viktor nods, a content smile on his face. Gods, Jayce wants to make him this happy off the silverwine. He has such a beautiful smile, but he never gets to see it.

"Sure," Viktor says. "Maybe I should -" Viktor shifts back and upward a little and rests his head on Jayce's lap. Jayce suppresses a gasp. Godsgodsgodsgodsgods.

His armor is harsh.

"Ugh," Viktor says. Jayce is immediately taking off his cloak. He puts it on his lap, so Viktor has a good cushion.

"Here."

"Alright."

Viktor puts his head back down and sighs, closing his eyes again.

Jayce swallows and carefully starts running his fingers through Viktor's hair. His palm brushes against Viktor's neck. He doesn't miss the way Viktor shivers under the touch. He's sensitive there.

"Are you cold?" Viktor asks after a few moments, eyes still closed.

"No?"

"Your hand is shaking."

Gods.

"It - it just does that sometimes."

Viktor mercifully does not say anything else.

He then hums, content, and Jayce just sits there, completely helpless, as the object of all his love and desire relaxes under his touch.

"So… poetry," Jayce says. Viktor's hair still has some of that paste in it, but it's still so so soft.

"Mhh. Right. I couldn't understand the poets. I'd revisit the book every few years to try and get a better grasp, but the metaphors and the sentiments either confused me or, when I was younger, frightened me, I suppose. Gods, that sounds pathetic."

"No, it doesn't. Frightened you?"

"People are mortal. We are mere fragile encasements of blood and bone. We do not last. I suppose I was baffled by the stupidity of these people to let themselves be so bold as to compare their lover to the moon and stars or what have you because that meant their moon and stars could die. Father tried to tell me not to think like that, and then he did not last."

Jayce continues to stroke Viktor's hair. He puts another hand on Viktor's shoulder because he can't bear not to be touching him. He does not know what to say. He's overwhelmed by the tragedy of it.

"I'm... so sorry," Jayce says.

Viktor opens his eyes. Jayce leans over to look down at him. His hair is splayed out on Jayce's lap. His eyes are a little unfocused from the haze of the Silverwine.

"I am being dramatic," Viktor says, "I think most of it was simply because I've always been bad with metaphor."

Jayce always loved the ancient poets. Viktor is his moon and stars, and if he were to lose him, he wouldn't regret loving him for a second. Jayce is worried anything he'd have to say on the subject would be too damning, so he keeps relishing in the feeling of Viktor's head on his lap.

"I wish we talked like this more often," Jayce finally says.

"Then you have to get me drunk on silverwine more often," Viktor retorts.

"I did not get you drunk. I told you to slow down."

"Eh. Semantics."

Jayce swears there’s something close to adoration in the way Viktor is staring him. He’s tried not to allow himself to hope. Every time they get somewhere, Viktor pulls away like he’s been burned, after all. He’s tried so desperately to allow himself to be okay with being friends. It’s incredible he’s allowed even that.

Sometimes, in these rare moments where he hopes and hopes, Jayce wishes he had the talent of one of the ancient poets. Perhaps he could articulate himself better. It doesn’t matter, he supposes, because Viktor would not comprehend it all anyways. He can’t put into words that he loves Viktor with every breath he takes.

So Jayce flicks him on the nose.

And then Viktor starts laughing. And when Jayce blurts out that his laugh is beautiful, because there's nowhere to put the enormity of this feeling inside him, Viktor just laughs even harder.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Hours pass in what feels like seconds. The conversation ebbs and flows and shifts. From philosophy to childhood to astronomy to gossip. It takes Jayce a long time to realize the music downstairs has stopped. They keep talking anyway.

Eventually, they find themselves lying barely a foot apart on their sides, facing each other. Viktor has his face smushed into his cloak, which he's made into a pillow. He flinches when he tries to move a bit.

"Are you okay?"

"Ugh. Yes. This will just... hurt in the morning. My body is not very kind to me if I spend too long on hard surfaces."

"Oh, god's Viktor I'm -"

"Do not be sorry. It was my choice. I will pay for it in the morning, but for now, I am fine."

"Okay," Jayce says. The silverwine still his him on a high. "I wish I could do for you what you did for me. Take some of the pain away."

Viktor looks at him, confused.

"I know you made the sleep tonic for me," Jayce says. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

Viktor's eyes go wide.

"It was nothing. I'm the Palace Apothecary after-"

"Ma says Lest says it took months. That you had to really work to scour for moonroot. I… I appreciate it so much. I hope you know you didn't have to.."

Viktor looks down and chuckles a bit.

"It was a gift," Viktor says. "It was because I wanted to."

Jayce would kiss him right here and right now if it were not for the silverwine.

"You must have heard that sentiment from a wise man," Jayce chokes.

"Nope. I heard it from an impossible, stubborn man. Who is too sweet for his own good."

"huh," Jayce tries, "He sounds pretty gr-"

The door bursts open. Jayce shoots up. Viktor does too, and flinches, his back clearly not able to process the sudden, harsh movement.

It's Grey.

"There you are. I - oh, so sorry. Hi, Viktor. Umm… It's Caitlyn. We don't know who else to get." Jayce is up in an instant. He turns back to look at Viktor.

"I'll see you-"

"Tomorrow, yes?"

The disappointment gnaws at him, but he has to leave. He hopes Viktor isn't too embarrassed in the morning. Jayce knows Viktor enough to know he'll say he's sorry for indulging too much as if this wasn't one of the best nights of his life, and then he'll never speak of it again.

He feels like he has to rip himself from that parapet, leaving a little piece of him behind.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

“What’s going on?” Jayce asks as Grey leads him down the hall.

“I don’t know,” Grey says. “She’s just been standing here for hours. She won’t move.”

Jayce swings open the massive double doors to the ballroom. They creak in the quiet night. The Palace staff have made quick work of cleaning the ballroom and emptying it of its tables. It's dark, incredibly dark. Faint moonlight creeps in through the massive arched windows that line the walls.

He finally spots Caitlyn near the stage. She stands under the painting of herself. The massive size of it casts her in shadow. He goes to her. He feels a little stiff and pained himself.

“Hey sprout,” he says. This is usually followed by a ‘don’t call me that,’ but Caitlyn remains eerily silent.

“Is this really what I look like?” Caitlyn asks.

Usually, he’d placate her.

He senses this is important.

“Yes,” Jayce says eventually.. “As of late.”

Caitlyn glares at him, clearly hoping for the lie.

“I… take it it is troubling you?” Jayce asks. Caitlyn says nothing. “The others… they are worried about you.”

“Well, they should stand watch and mind their business. There was no need to call for you. You’re dismissed.”

“I’m not on duty, Cait.”

Caitlyn glares at him.

“You reek of silverwine.”

Jayce coughs. He cannot think of the past six or so hours right now.

“I’m clearheaded enough to talk.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You never do.”

“It’s not as if you ever do either.”

Jayce doesn’t have an answer to that. He sighs and stares at the painting and misses his friend, which is unfair to her because she’s in the room with him. But he misses her all the same. She stares at the painting for another moment, looking up at herself like she’s staring at something fierce and unkillable.

“We’re going to the archive,” Caitlyn says. She starts to walk out.

“What?!” Jayce cannot believe what i’m hearing.

“You heard me. We’ll discuss the details in the morning. Now, please, Jayce, go to bed.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Caitlyn held onto the maps they found when they were trying to go during Jayce’s academy years, so it takes them very little time to schedule a journey there. The archive has been built into a mountain. It is a four-hour ride on horseback.

Some of it is through Zaunite farm territory, which gives Jayce an incredible excuse to ask Caitlyn to bring Viktor along. He’s hesitant to. He doesn’t want to put Viktor in danger, but Viktor has been insistent he come since the start.

It takes Jayce three hours to convince her to let him come, but he does it.

Because Jayce is on the guard, it’s easy enough to fudge Caitlyn’s guard schedule and get her out of the palace undetected. They dress her in servants' clothes before sneaking off into the night. The ride is quiet. The three of them are all at varying levels of nervousness and trying to hide it with varying degrees of success.

The first leg of their journey, which is just leaving Piltover, goes off without a hitch. When they’re crossing through the farmlands, Viktor has to negotiate their way through a grumpy elderly man’s farm.

“I told you we needed him,” Jayce mutters to Caitlyn once the man lets him pass. Caitlyn rolls her eyes but does not fight him.

By the third hour, they are past Zaun’s farmlands and near the plains of Eyre, a vast expanse of land rumored to be haunted by phantoms. In reality, it seems, the wind just makes incredibly unsettling noises. The strength of it makes it difficult for them to talk.

The dark of the night feels suffocating and dangerous. If either Viktor or Caitlyn were to get hurt on this journey or inside, Jayce would never forgive himself. He’s on incredibly high alert. Every snap of a branch, every caw of a bird, has him looking for dangers.

When the wind quiets, Caitlyn and Viktor actually make conversation, talking, of all things, about childhood pets.

“I grew up with two dogs,” Caitlyn says, as if the entire kingdom isn’t aware of the Royal pets. “I would really like another that is just mine.”

“We never had pets,” Viktor says, “Though, there was this one cat in the back alley I considered a friend.”

“A friend?”

“I was… eccentric.”

“Viktor has a cat now,” Jayce says, knowing it’ll get under his skin.

“Do you now?” Caitlyn asks.

Viktor coughs. “I do not,” he says, “Jayce is trying to get me to adopt a stray.”

“The stray has adopted you,” Jayce teases. Viktor looks back at him with a smirk.

“Well, she should reconsider. I’m quite a busy man. It’s very unwise.”

“Are you now?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Gods,” Cait says, clearly referring to the two of them. “Will you two-”

Two massive rumbles echo through the plains, almost like footsteps. Viktor’s horse startles, but he’s able to calm her.

“What was that?” Caitlyn asks.

“I’ve no idea,” Viktor says.

“It… it sounded like footsteps,” Jayce says.

“If they are… that creature’s as tall as a building.”

Caitlyn has a hand hovering over the bow on her back. The three pause, listening for more sound, but all that can be heard is the breathing of their horses and a few crickets.

“Let’s keep going, yes?” Caitlyn says. Jayce and Viktor nod.

They do not talk much the rest of the way.

Once they near the mountains, they struggle to locate the damn thing. It’s supposed to be between two rivers, but they struggle to locate a second until Jayce’s horse stumbles over a dried-up bed.

This directs them to the side of a mountain with an ornate pattern carved into the stone. It looks completely impossible to get into. Jayce and Caitlyn, despite their extensive research, know very little about how this place operates. How it is guarded or how the ancient spell functions. They simply know that only the voice of a Kiramman can open the door.

The rumbling sound comes back. But much louder. Jayce has to scramble to undo his saddle straps when his horse tries to flee and throws Jayce into the dirt. Viktor yells for him in the night. Jayce lies face down in the dirt for a second before hearing the sound again. When he gets back to Viktor and Caitlyn, he can see Viktor standing in the middle of the clearing as if he were trying to make his way to him.

The rumbling continues.

“It… it really sounds like footsteps!” Caitlyn shouts.

Then, Jayce spots a shadow. A massive shadow. At least three stories tall. It makes crumbling sounds with each step, not unlike rock scraping against rock.

The trees shake. The forest comes alive with the sound of wildlife scattering. It makes sense when it comes into view. Caitlyn stays where she is, watching it approach. Jayce rushes to Viktor. They stay glued to each other’s sides on instinct.

Whatever this creature is, it’s made of pure stone. It’s as if it plucked itself right from the mountainside. The creature has hollow eyes a square head. A massive jaw. It stands in front of the door and then kneels down to Caitlyn’s level.

Cait has her bow drawn, as if that will make a difference. She’s still on that poor horse they stole from the stables, somehow braving this impossible thing.

And then. It’s mouth opens.

When it speaks, the ground shakes. Deep and monotone.

“State. Your. Name.”

“Uhmm. Caitlyn Kiramman, sir, High Regent of Piltover, first in line for-”

“Very good. State. Your. Purpose. What Knowledge do You Seek.”

Caitlyn looks back at Jayce.

“Mage Tomes!” Jayce shouts.

“I have come to read the old histories. And read old tomes written by Mages. My guards are here to help me on this quest.”

There is a long, terrifying pause. Viktor puts a hand on Jayce’s arm, making a soothing motion with his hand.

“Very well.”

Viktor lets out a breath beside him.

With a loud, scraping sound, the rock in the symbol in the mountain glows, and the rock morphs into a door, which slides open for them. Caitlyn turns to look at them, clearly in shock.

“What in the hells?” She hisses. She dismounts her horse.

When the three enter, it’s pitch dark. But then, Caitlyn takes a step forward, and a set of torches on the wall light, illuminating a narrow stone hallway.

“... alright,” she says.

They continue down the hall. Every time it almost gets too dark to see, new torches will light and guide their way. Because of their natural paces, Caitlyn walks a bit ahead of them. Viktor clutches at Jayce’s arm.

“I cannot feel my magic here,” Viktor whispers.

It’s not as if he could use it in front of Caitlyn, but it is incredibly unsettling to hear. They try to keep up while remaining out of earshot.

“Are you alright? Can you continue?”

Viktor nods.

“Perhaps this is good. Perhaps we can find a way to suppress it outside of the Archive.”

Jayce swallows.

“We’ll see.”

Caitlyn reaches the end of the hall. As she does so, two figures move. She draws her blade from where it’s sheathed by her side. Jayce does the same.

However, they are merely more stone creatures. Docile. Much smaller this time. Not much taller than Jayce. They both open massive doors for her. The room across the threshold is steeped in total darkness. They can only see the edge of what appears to be a balcony rail. Then - light. Hundreds of fixtures light at once, bathing the room in the warm glow of hundreds of flames.

All three of them gasp.

Jayce was expecting something small. He was expecting an area no bigger than the ballroom.

This place is bigger than any library he’s ever seen. Some shelves stack dozens and dozens of feet high. The air smells of parchment. Yet the inside is essentially nothing more than a massive cave. Its clear this is for storage and little more.

“Gods,” Jayce says.

“There have to be hundreds of thousands of books here,” Viktor whispers.

Jayce swallows. Just how much has The Crown kept hidden?

A stone guard appears again, though this one is more… human-looking. Limber. It looks more like a statue. It even has clothes carved into it. Old robes. It speaks in that strange monotone. Little inflection. Slowly.

“Hello, Princess Kiramman. Welcome. We are the keepers of the archive. You and your guests can ask us to locate whatever you need for your studies.”

Despite the absolute absurdity of it all, they have a lot of ground to cover, and each of the three has a different priority. Jayce’s is magic, Caitlyn wants the histories, and Viktor is curious about old documents related to the fog. He won’t explain why, because of course he won’t.

Jayce tells the stone keeper what he’s looking for, and it leads him to a vast corner. His leg aches from the journey. He can’t imagine what Viktor’s feeling. The keeper as they so call themselves, climbs up a ladder and grabs a tome, then, using some sort of magic, slides the ladder sideways and grabs a couple more.

Jayce sees Viktor talking to a keeper near the other side of the library, also piling in various documents as quickly as they can. They are on incredibly borrowed time, after all.

Jayce thanks the keeper when it returns. At the top of the stack is a faded leather tome. He opens it. He feels his breath shake. His hands tremble as he flips through the pages.

Diagrams. Written accounts. Explanations of different types of magic. Concepts he’s never even heard of. It’s perfect. They can do so much with this. He quickly piles the tomes and manuscripts handed to him into his satchel.

“Thank you,” he says. “Truly.”

He looks up at the stone figure. It’s unnervingly … present.

“Are you -” Jayce asks. “Are you uhh.. alive?”

“I-I am neither living nor dead,” the creature says. “I am one with the spell that created me. That is my life force.”

Jayce suddenly feels quite bad for it.

“Are you… alright? Are you ... trapped down here?”

It takes an unsettling amount of time to answer.

“My purpose was to soothe my master’s weary heart. But he is dead. Odd, in all this time, nobody has asked me that before.”

Jayce swallows, deeply uneasy.

“None of the Kirammans?”

“No. You are the first outside the Kiramman lineage I have talked to since the death of my master.”

“And … who is your master?” Jayce asks. This thing is sounding eerily more and more sentient.

“Cyr. He is long gone, but his spell survives, entombed,” the creature says. Jayce feels as if the floor has given out from under him.

“I don’t understand - Cyr the Terrible? From-”

“Jayce… Viktor!” Caitlyn. Jayce and Viktor look at each other from across the vast expanse of the library and follow the sound of her voice. The keeper follows behind him. All of the books that do not fit in Jayce’s satchel he holds.

“Cait!?”

“Over here!”

When Jayce finds her, she’s at the far end of the Archive.

She’s stood in front of a tomb.

“What is this?” She whispers.

Viktor clearly has no idea. He shrugs.

“The keeper,” Jayce says. “He says his master was Cyr.”

Caitlyn looks at him in horror.

“That makes no sense.”

She pushes at the lid of the tomb. It doesn’t budge.

“Caitlyn,” Jayce says. “Be careful.”

She pushes again and again at the stone.

“I need to know - ugh - what they have buried here.”

Jayce notices the keepers have gone suspiciously silent.

Viktor comes to his side.

With one final push, Caitlyn gets the lid off the tomb.

A blinding light enters the room. Viktor grabs Jayce’s shoulder. Caitlyn gasps. And then, the room goes pitch dark. Jayce grips onto Viktor like a lifeline.

“Cait!” he says. “Cait!”

“I’m here! I’m alright. It’s so dark.” Jayce reaches out. Finally gets a hold of her.

Almost as soon as he does, the ground begins to shake. And then, on the other side of the library, something crumbles and falls. A small sliver of daylight pours in from the ceiling. Then some more. Stone falls and crumbles.

With a dawning horror, Jayce realizes the archive is collapsing.

And there’s nowhere for them to go.

It happens in a matter of seconds. He hears Caitlyn mumbling a small little no. no. no. Viktor buries his head into the crook of Jayce’s shoulder.

“It’s still gone,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

A massive chunk falls and starts knocking over shelves. The noise is horrific and deafening. He watches as the gigantic, towering shelves tumble and collapse inward. All he can do is sit there as himself, his best friend, and the love of his life stare down the face of death.

Jayce squeezes Caitlyn’s hand.. He puts his arm around Viktor’s shoulders. The horror of it all barely has time to take it’s root. Jayce is perhaps selfish in the face of yet another death, but he leans over and kisses Viktor’s temple once- twice, not enough to make his final moments unpleasant, but enough for him to hopefully know he’s loved. The cave in rapidly advances.

Then there’s a light.

Viktor quickly moves and reaches out to grab Caitlyn.

There’s a noise like one he’s never heard before, an almost excruciating whistle that escalates and then spirals. It sounds like something rips and then-

He’s nowhere. He’s everywhere. He’s spinning. He’s completely still. He thinks, perhaps. This is what death is. That this is it. It’s all over. He passes by a jumbled mess of light and color and sound. Completely incomprehensible. And then, with a strange and charged -

POP!!!

… Jayce is in his room, still gripping the two of them. He stumbles backward, nauseous and completely out of sorts. The worst form of dizziness imaginable. The faint hints of dawn come in through his curtains. His curtains. He’s really home.

Caitlyn stumbles into his chess set, clearly trying to get her bearings.

“We’re alive,” Jayce says. “We’re alive!”

Viktor teleported them.

Jayce rushes at Viktor, feeling deliriously relieved. Gods, he’s sick of close calls. He pulls Viktor into his arms. And with a tentative motion, Viktor carefully places an arm around his shoulders. It’s everything he’s wanted for so long.

He wants to reach for Caitlyn. Make sure she’s alright. And then it hits him -

Jayce pulls back.

And - no. no. no. When Jayce looks at Viktor, Viktor gives him a resigned smile. He nods and squeezes Jayce’s shoulder.

His eyes are flickering. The remnants of such a massive amount of magic are still coursing through him.

Jayce’s heart sinks. When he looks at Caitlyn, she’s looking at her hands. At Jayce’s room. She blinks, struggling to process what just occurred.

He watches as she looks at Viktor. Sees the shock in her eyes. The realization hits her.

With shaking hands, Caitlyn draws her blade.

Chapter Text

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. 

When a mage, however new to the world of magic, is put in incredibly fraught circumstances, they may be able to perform an act far beyond their usual abilities. Should this happen to you, do not assume you can add a new skill to your repertoire just yet. Remember, magic, much like the human condition, is a highly complex marriage of internal and external desires, raw instinct, and an intangible yet present connection to all living things.

In his book 'The Being of You', Arcanic philosopher Harris T Aurelia writes:

"The ability for a mage to perform beyond their abilities when under threat speaks to a vital truth about human circumstance: One is often at their most powerful when they are at their most afraid."

While some scholars have dismissed the sentiment as glib, it is important to note that the fear response is not an inherent weakness. If anything, a mage should be grateful for their fear. We would not be afraid if we had nothing to lose, after all.

- Welcome to Magic: A Common-Sense Guide for the Newly-Awakened Mage, Chapter 15: Special Circumstances

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. 

It’s a matter of pure instinct for Jayce to step in front of Caitlyn's sword. He’d throw himself in front of anything were it aimed at the man behind him. Caitlyn looks at him in utter disbelief while Viktor sucks in a breath.

“What are you doing? Move!” Cait says.

Jayce feels like he’s living one of his nightmares. He remembers so clearly. The mage he saw. in the gallows. And - he has to stay focused.

“No,” Jayce says. “No. Absolutely not.”

From behind him, Viktor whispers, “Jayce, it’s alright.”

Caitlyn tries to maneuver around him.

“It’s not alright. Caitlyn - Cait! He just saved our lives!”

Caitlyn swerves to the side. Jayce immediately moves with her. “You knew,” Caitlyn spits, the realization hitting her. “Gods, Jayce. You knew.”

“If you would just-”

“-You do realize you are in complete violation of not only your oath but the laws this very kingdom was founded upon?” Caitlyn hisses.

“Cait… he’s not what you think. You’re smarter than this. I know you are.”

Jayce sees the way his outstretched hands are shaking. Caitlyn still has her sword gripped tightly in her hands. She adjusts her grip and swallows. She’s wavering.

“I saw what I saw,” she says.

“Whatever we’ve been taught about mages, it’s completely wrong!” Jayce says. He feels sick inside. The nightmare-tinged quality to this starts to take its toll. Jayce knows his voice has begun to tremble.

“This isn’t the first time he saved me,” Jayce says. “After I hurt my leg, I was going to die were it not for his intervention. He risked everything for me when he barely knew me. And then again. And then with both of us. Today.”

Caitlyn wavers further. But she grits her teeth.

“Person? He’s. a. Mage. A monster.”

Jayce clenches his fists.

“He is less of a monster than you or I,” Jayce says. “And if you so much as give him a bruise-”

“Jayce,” Viktor warns.

Caitlyn’s eyes widen. She smiles, a mean, incredulous sort of thing.

“-Are you threatening me, Jayce?”

He knows his voice sounds shot. His eyes are getting watery. The longer this goes on, the harder it is to handle. He’s about thirty seconds away from getting on his knees—anything to get this to stop.

“I would never hurt you, Cait, but…if you hurt him, I would never recover,” Jayce admits. “Please, please, just put down your sword. Let me explain. If you have any love for me left in your heart... You went to the archive to get answers. This is an answer.”

He could never, ever fathom the idea of being at the sharp end of Caitlyn’s blade like this. Yet, here they are, standing face to face. Jayce steps closer to her. To the point where he’s in an easy striking distance. Please. Please. Please.

She lets out a disbelieving little scoff and sheathes her sword.

Jayce’s breath comes back to him. He’s still wary when Viktor steps to the side.

“Viktor,” Caitlyn says. “I will give you an hour to pack up your things. You are hereby removed-”

“No! Cait No-” Jayce says.

“-From your Position As Royal Apothecary -”

“Cait!-”

“-And banished from the Kingdom of Piltover. This includes Zaun, the Outskirts, and the Isles of Cebrus and Song.”

“I understand,” Viktor says.

“Cait, he saved your life. Do you at least want to hear what we have to say-”

“-I am already doing you a favor, Jayce!”

“Jayce,” Viktor says, “It’s alright.”

Jayce grabs Viktor’s shoulders. "Stop saying that. It's not."

“Where he goes, I go,” Jayce says, breathless. Viktor’s eyes widen.

Jayce notices Caitlyn’s hand is shaking, bite-worn nails apparent without her itermene cream.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am being completely serious, Caitlyn. You banish him, and I am gone.”

Caitlyn scoffs - then her brows raise with something akin to recognition.

“Viktor, go pack.”

She swings open Jayce's door. Calls for one of the guards to escort him to his chambers. Viktor squeezes his hand. He looks so sad.

“I will be just fine, Jayce. So will you.”

But Viktor won’t. He’ll be alone if he doesn’t let Jayce come. He’ll be banished from his home city. He'll have nobody and nothing.

But this isn't over.

“I’ll come find you as soon as I can,” Jayce whispers.

“Viktor,” Caitlyn says. “Come on.”

Viktor gives him a soft smile and heads on his way.

Caitlyn closes the door behind him.

“You are in love with a mage,” she laughs. It's one of those cruel laughs born from incredulity. It goes on a little too long. Jayce can tell she’s stifling a rising panic. She sits on the chaise and puts her head in her hands. During this time, Jayce tries to form as many arguments as he can—Plan Viktor's defense.

“-He has caused no problems thus far. His patients adore him. He’s been far more successful at treating the wounded than any of his successors -”

“And is he using magic to do it?” Caitlyn spits. “I should have assumed a man called the ‘man of miracle’ was too good to be true.”

“No. Just - just with me,” Jayce says. "He saved me from that infection from the Wraith. I was going to die, Caitlyn… I was on my last breath. He saved me, knowing the risks."

“Need I remind you, it is in my blood to kill him,” Caitlyn says.

“Is it?” Jayce asks. “Because we just discovered an ancient mage whose atrocities are baked into the founding of this kingdom was entombed in your family’s archive, with his spell used to hold it together. "

Caitlyn says nothing. She's not even looking at him. Jayce continues, picking up confidence.

"Clearly, there is a huge part of the histories that you - we - simply do not know. If being a mage was as dangerous as Piltover makes it seem, then why did your mother and her advisors choose to cover up Mel’s identity as a mage rather than pursue her? Why would your mother construct a lie about a mage attack on the academy when it was an accident? If the archive-”

“I UNDERSTAND,” Caitlyn snaps. She springs back up, pacing back and forth again. It seems she’s considering this. Jayce can tell she’s in a crisis. He has no idea if that will work in his favor.

“Viktor doesn’t even want his magic. He wants to… find a cure. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. And he won’t. He won’t. He’s…” Jayce leans against the wall to take pressure off his leg and to quiet the dizzying feeling. “You're right. I love him and he is everything to me. He belongs in this kingdom. Please.”

Caitlyn puts her head in her hands, still pacing. She looks completely undone. Confused and afraid and a little ill. It feels like a whole minute of this goes by.

“What are you thinking?” Jayce asks, unable to take it.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I need… I need time!” Caitlyn snaps. “You have given me an impossible decision, Jayce. I need… I need to read the histories I stole. I need... to do some digging… I -"

An idea comes to her.

"That… moving from place to place thing he did. Can he just do that whenever he'd like? Because you seemed as surprised as I was."

"No.." Jayce says. "No, this is the first time. He umm… He’s not quite sure how to use his magic. I assume he was only able to transport us due to the extreme duress."

“Oh, he doesn’t even know how to wield it! How reassuring!” Caitlyn says, but the fight has left her. Caitlyn closes her eyes, as if she cannot believe what she's about to say.

"I’ll send you both away for a while—a temporary banishment. My great-great-great auntie took some of our fortune and had a manor built on this small island in the middle of nowhere. Mother has kept it… maintained enough to stand. Father and I went on fishing trips there when I was younger. It's… fine."

"I want you and Viktor to go there. I can’t have either of you, especially him, in Piltover right now until I know more.”

Jayce can work with this. For the first time since they appeared in Jayce's room, Jayce feels like he's getting enough air.

“Thank you,” Jayce says. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes for everything to make more sense, I suppose.”

That doesn’t answer the question at all.

"I’ll let our head butler know to prepare some supplies for you and call for a boat. You should come up with a reason to leave town with him. Write to your mother,” she says.

Jayce tries to catch his breath. Caitlyn heads for the door. She pauses right before leaving.

"Jayce,” Caitlyn says. “I… I am trying to understand. But this is… so beyond anything I could even fathom excusing. Banishment is already a kindness. I don’t know if I can afford anything else without fearing for the safety of this kingdom. I will try.”

“You’ll come to understand,” Jayce says, not allowing himself to even think about it.

“Let's hope.”

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. 

By the time the two are put on a small sloop with two weeks' worth of sustenance, Jayce is convinced Viktor is furious with him. Jayce hates it when anyone is furious with him, but Viktor being upset with him has always felt unbearable.

Sitting in the small parlor under the deck is the first time the two actually get to speak to each other alone since they left for the library, but Viktor seems uninterested in doing so.

"I brought the books I found," Jayce says. "There are six of them. All very promising."

"… good."

The boat is rough for both of their balances, so neither walks around at all.

“Are you -” Jayce asks, “Are you okay?”

“I am perfectly fine, Jayce.”

He says nothing else.

“Are you - angry with me? I mean - how do you feel about everything?”

Viktor pauses for a moment.

"I feel like I need sleep. You should try to get some rest yourself. I’ve been awake since yesterday morning. I’m sure it's the same for you.”

Jayce cannot sleep. He has far too much energy. He pulls out one of the books, but trying to read it makes him feel violently nauseous. He's left to a miserable six hours of nothing but staring at a sleeping Viktor's back and fiddling with the dagger he keeps in his belt.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. 

Jayce clumsily stumbles to the top deck after the captain announces "land ho!"

With the approaching storm, the Old Kiramman Manor looks incredibly ominous in the distance. Imposing and dilapidated, the grey stone structure sits on the shore of a very rocky island, rocks just out from the ocean floor, the beach is covered in driftwood and grime from the violent tide. Jayce has no idea how they're even going to dock.

The Manor’s gothic design makes it all the more haunting. It feels very much like something out of a horror novel. Fog blankets the surrounding land. In order to maintain privacy and spread the illusion that Jayce and Viktor have rushed out of town to "help Jayce’s ailing friend", Caitlyn has sent no staff. It will just be the two of them.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. 

The manor is in worse shape up close. Almost right where the sand meets the grass, there’s an unnecessary guardhouse. A dark archway covered in some sort of green growth leads to a slippery cobblestone path that both of them have to take extra care on, especially in the pouring rain.

The inside of the home is… cold, cavernous, and in a state of disrepair. Jayce finds it shocking for a Kiramman property. The central room has an old settee, some chairs, and a massive hearth with some intimidating trim—angry, fiendish creatures carved in stone. Jayce takes the sheets off the furniture and is happy to see they haven't gathered too much dust underneath.

"If we do get banished," Jayce jokes, "Maybe Cait can just let us stay here. Seems ... quaint." 

"We..?" 

Jayce swallows. Right. 

"If I come with you -" 

"Don't be silly, Jayce." 

Jayce tries and fails to swallow back the hurt and the dread and focuses on unpacking. 

It becomes clear to Jayce that, in addition to being… vaguely emotionally troubled, Viktor is also in a significant amount of physical pain. Jayce finds them rooms and lays out the fresh linens. Viktor chooses the room nearest to the parlor, takes a pain tonic, and falls asleep almost immediately. He stays asleep for a large portion of the remaining daylight hours, dulled by the storm-grey skies.

The moment Jayce gets the last of their provisions, the boat leaves. Jayce watches it go and gets a distinct sense of being trapped. It truly feels like a banishment. For a second, he just watches as the waves crash along the jutting rocks, repeating the same motion over and over despite the violence it takes.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. 

The tired argument that Mages are 'volatile' comes from years-old, incredibly sporadic incidents from ill-educated mages with little to support them. This so-called rise of 'Purists' use these incidents to sow dissent and advocate for their supposed 'magic-free government'. As long as a mage is properly educated and supported, they are frankly no greater risk to society than anyone else. We have hundreds of years of histories to prove this, and stringent laws in place that allow for us all to live safely and equally.

As we have seen from societies before, the moment we start restricting entire groups from our governments is the moment we careen towards a world where the government does not exist to serve and better society, but to control it through means of fear and manufactured hatred. I strongly advise my colleagues to vote 'nay' on the following measure to preserve the sanctity of our Commonwealth.

-Mages in the Government: A Treatise, Speech by Faza Myrolen

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The second he has a chance, Jayce lights a fire on the hearth, curls up in one of the less moth-eaten chairs, and begins to read one of the stolen tomes, Welcome to Magic: A Common-Sense Guide for the Newly-Awakened Mage.

Each book he's stolen appears to be from the late end of the Chaos Age, a nearly six-hundred-year time span of history before the time period they're in now. This was not a time for knowledge or reason, so his teachers always said. Yet… this book appears printed, somehow. Was there a separate invention of the printing press before Cyr's terror?

He assumes this was probably a school book of some sort and is shocked by the casual way in which it's been written upon and treated. The introduction is nearly impossible to read, the pages have stains on them from various beverages, and it appears that students left notes for each other in the margins.

Would you like to ride to Elvery's after this?

Yes, should I not impale myself with a sword first.

When do you think was the last time Arcmage Hare washed his beard?

Trick question. He hasn't since it was grown.

There's something about it all that fills Jayce with overwhelm. These kids did not know they'd become a part of history. They never assumed the knowledge in this book, which they considered so basic, would be precious or needed, cast into the dark and left to be forgotten.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. 

Out of every topic that will be discussed in the course of any young mage's schooling, the dual self is paramount. 

Humankind is predisposed to conflict. Conflict amongst each other, conflict with the land, but conflict within the self is perhaps one of the most common. This type of conflict can lead to loss of control over one's magic. Harmony and understanding with your dual is where a young mage will learn to harness their abilities.

Your outer self, the version of yourself you and the people around you are most familiar with, is the self you have come to know. Your surface-level beliefs, feelings, and desires. Some say that the outer self is often your most logical, though others argue that the inner self will sometimes know truths that your outer self refuses to recognize.

Sometimes, these selves work in tandem, dancing, creating a rich tapestry of a person. As long as there is recognition of the presence of the other, it has little bearing on the magic.

But the inner self, tragically, is often composed of the parts of us we do not want, understand, or are afraid to express. 

The following chapter will provide examples of self-conflicts and how to solve them. Additionally, it will discuss how to commune with your inner self through reflection and visiting your Arcana.

-Welcome to Magic: A Common-Sense Guide for the Newly-Awakened Mage, Chapter 2: The Dual Self

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Despite his deep excitement, Jayce feels a headache surfacing. He takes a reluctant break after the introduction chapter and decides to warm some stew for himself and Viktor. The slightly damp kindling makes the hearth smoky. He's always liked the smell of smoke—the richness of it. He takes a moment to breathe in the scent, then -

BANG

A massive clap of thunder echoes through the island.

Before Jayce even registers what it is, he's dropped the ladle he's been using and is clutching his head in his hands. And he's right back in his head, in his past, in the thick of battle, in the sinew-shocking terror of it all, amidst the fire and the blood and the screaming. 

It takes him a while, after that first thunderclap, to calm himself. He feels shame for that, too. What kind of grown man is afraid of storms? He listens to the gentle bubbling of the stew. Tries to focus on the warmth coming from the hearth.

Viktor finally emerges right as Jayce is getting hungry enough to commit the Piltovian Social crime of eating before your housemates have joined.

"Did you sleep well?" Jayce asks when Viktor appears in the doorway. Viktor wears his cloak and an additional blanket over it, clearly cold. It's terribly adorable.

"Well enough. Is this Supper?"

Jayce nods. Viktor joins him around the hearth.

"I assume our suppers will be getting much worse as time goes on," Viktor says.

The palace has sent them with what they've claimed is two weeks' worth of food, but the preservation of food is difficult, and it's not lost on him that they've also been supplied with two fishing poles.

"We'll have to fish soon," Jayce jokes. "I can fish… in theory. Though my Father told me legends of sea monsters in these waters, so we better be careful."

Viktor doesn't smirk like he usually would. He settles onto the settee. The corner closest to the fire. He looks down at his stew, poking at it with a fork.

Viktor looks like he wants to say something important, but the room remains heavy with silence. Jayce's heart starts to race. The storm continues to rage outside. One of the windows on the far side of the room rattles in a way that makes it seem like it could give at any moment.

Finally:

“You asked me on the boat if I was upset with you…,” Viktor says. Jayce swallows. He looks over at Viktor, illuminated by the firelight, and waits with bated breath. “I am merely… concerned.”

The fire crackles. Jayce waits for elaboration.

“I worry that you are going to far too great of lengths for me, Jayce. I … I worry about the lengths you would go to in the future. With Caitlyn, you risked your oldest friendship, your position in society, and your security. I do not want to see what’s next.”

It’s not quite what Jayce was expecting. It’s a fair worry, seeing as Jayce would do anything for him. He knows better than to say that.

“I suppose,” Jayce tries, “You do so much for me, it’s only right to do what I can for you in turn.”

Viktor shakes his head. When he looks at Jayce, he seems so sad that Jayce's chest aches. He sets his stew to the side. He's barely touched it.

"You're… risking too much for someone you don't…I think you are perhaps blinded by the fact that I saved your life. Perhaps by my magic as well. Perhaps you are making more of me than I am.”

Jayce has been manipulated easily. He’s faltered often with what he believes. Lately, it feels like he barely knows anything at all when it comes to himself, the world, or the state of things.

But there’s one thing he does know: his own heart.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jayce says, keeping the edge out of his voice so it doesn’t land cruelly. Viktor sighs, as if frustrated.

“You know, I absolutely despise Piltover? I think it's irredeemable. Most days, I hope it falls.”

Jayce furrows his brow.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because this is who you’re going to such lengths for."

"I… I don't even know how to feel about Piltover anymore," Jayce admits. "Sometimes I think the crown is as violent as the Firelights."

Viktor draws his lips into a thin line and takes a very deep breath as if trying to hold himself back from arguing.

"We… we should talk about what you just said, Jayce, but that isn't the point. This is about … not being who you think I am."

He thinks for a moment.

"Are you aware that I’ve had sex for coin?”

“... okay?”

Piltovians have a strange attitude towards the act, somehow paying people for sex while casting horrible aspersions upon the people they bed. It hurts that Viktor thinks Jayce would look down on him or see him differently for something like that.

Viktor sits up and leans towards Jayce. He’s looking at Jayce with this wild expression on his face, as if he is desperate for Jayce to see reason. His voice keeps getting a little harsher. Never louder. He never yells. But he sounds sharper at the edges.

“I told you my mentor developed shimmer, but I never told you that I helped him.”

“You were a child.”

“I was a teenager. I was old enough to know better,”

It hits him that Viktor is doing everything he can to scare him away. And the oddest part of it all is that he's getting this odd warm feeling, as if the temperature in this terrible cold home has finally risen. It's a comfort. It's magic. He doesn't even know if Viktor realizes. His words are trying to get rid of him, but his magic wants him to stay - it is calling out to him.

“Viktor, this is-”

“I almost left Caitlyn in that library,” Viktor says. 

“But you didn’t.”

“I hope the Queen dies,” Viktor hisses.

It’s a cruel thing to say. Likely meant to shock him. Jayce won't give him the satisfaction.

“Alright.”

“Jayce! You are a High Guard, you are a knight. I just said the most treasonous thing someone could possibly say.”

“If you are trying to scare me, it isn’t working.”

Viktor’s face falls. He looks into the fire, then back at Jayce. The warmth vanishes.

“Jayce…when I first became a mage, I was… excited, I suppose, about the possibility of doing something not just good, but memorable. I left my mentor and my practice. I ventured into the darkest parts of the depths where shimmer has ravaged people to the point that most will turn into wraiths upon death. Where the fog still lingers after the Queen’s ‘clean up,’ and therefore where the Plague still ravages.”

Jayce watches as Viktor looks at his own hands with an unfettered bitterness. Jayce sees so many wonderful intentions in what he's describing. He's so worried to hear how it fell apart. Viktor's so distant, so afraid of his own magic. Whatever he's talking about surely has to be a part of this.

“I could see all these little individual strings of magic everywhere around me. I thought I could play them like a lute. I wanted to see if I could bring my healing magic to Zaun. I set up a base for my practice, and the people came."

"I fooled each and every person who saw me. My previous experience as an apothecary helped me. Zaunites are only slightly more forgiving of mages than those in Piltover. Remember, many believe 'the fog' is merely a curse."

Believe? It is. Jayce doesn't interrupt, however. That is far from the point.

"The first patient I saw was a middle-aged gentleman. I brought him to one of the private rooms and gave him a tonic. I told him the tonic was experimental. All the while, it was a simple sleeping tonic."

"Once he slept, I put a hand to his head… and I could feel the illness in his body. I could feel the rot. And I somehow just knew, impulsively, how to rid him of it.. He woke up dazed, but cured. And once he did -,”

Viktor won’t look Jayce in the eye. He looks into his teacup. He takes a sip, but there’s none left. Rain starts to slam against the windows.

“I felt him. A link to him. I had access to his thoughts, his feelings. Part of his very essence became linked to me. He was in that realm, too. He did not appear as you did, but as a sort of… faceless being of light. ”

“In our realm, he looked at me like a god. And before I knew it, a little community had been built and formed around my lonely little practice. They'd feed each other, care for one another, and by the end, we even had a blacksmith.”

“My intentions started well enough. But… the feeling of connecting with others, of becoming more than myself, was… Intoxicating. If magic is rooted in feeling, what I did was rooted in …” He struggles a lot with his next words. Jayce wants to cry for him. “Rooted in this pathetic sense of loneliness, I suppose."

"Everyone I healed in that way, I could know their thoughts, their pasts. I could feel their triumphs and past loves and past griefs and everything as if they were my own. I … became a we. I was simply a part of a whole. I felt no loneliness… no shame."

Jayce has his fists at his side. He's desperate to go to Viktor, put an arm around his shoulder, anything.

"The more I healed, the more able I was to heal without connecting people to the 'hive' if you will. I was sated. I could better understand the arcana. There was the occasional mistake. People would come to me with no intent to stay in the community, and I would heal them and send them on their way."

Viktor stares into the fire. His voice starts to waver. The wind outside moves with such force that it sounds like a scream.

“It's hard to articulate… let us say that each bit of healing magic is a single string of light that I pull from. What I did not know is that, by connecting everyone to me in the way I did, I… had been healing everyone I connected with, everyone who followed me, with the same string. What would happen to one of my "followers" would happen to all. So when one of our community members died…”

No. The icy dread Jayce feels is indescribable. He cannot fathom it. The guilt that Viktor must feel.

“Everybody followed,” Viktor says—his voice cracks. "Their light just… went out. There was this great, collective wail, and everybody just… stopped. There was this huge burst of light, and they just… disintegrated into ash."

Jayce is speechless. He can't believe Viktor's been carrying something so huge and so catastrophic this whole time. He cannot fathom what the other man has been through, the guilt that would follow him.

“I killed so many people-”

“Viktor, you didn’t know.”

“Exactly! I had… no idea what I was doing, and I did it anyway, Jayce! ”

“Viktor-”

“Afterwards, I spent those four years in solitude. I found a very hidden spot on the cliffside and… stayed there.”

“The people I didn’t keep in this… hive… they lived. They spread the good word about the Miracle Man. Apparently, many wondered where I went. The people with whom I formed the community were often missing already, cast out by their families… vulnerable. So... few people ever suspected.”

"After those four years, a friend found me and came to me. A close friend of his had died running a practice, and they were looking for an apothecary. I was… very tired of solitude. And though I did not deserve to, I started practicing again. Around a year and a half later, the Royal Committee was knocking at my door.”

"When you say started practicing again -"

"Non-magical medicine, aside from the plants, of course. After what happened, I vowed to myself never to use my healing magic again."

"Jayce brings a shaky hand to his lips. Viktor will not look at him. His shoulders are tense."

“So… why-”

“What matters, Jayce, is that I healed you, knowing full well what could happen. That I could wreak havoc on your mind - invade it. Perhaps rob you of your sense of self.”

"You gave me life, Viktor."

Jayce can barely hear the rain over the sound of his own heart

"Viktor, you weren’t educated in magic. The crown kept that from you! If you had more of an understanding, if you had access to the works of old scholars-”

“You can’t possibly be brushing this aside,” Viktor says with venom. When Jayce told Viktor of his past, and Viktor comforted him, he felt like he was being graced by a blessing from the old gods. He felt freed of a terrible secret. Viktor seems to be furious with it.

“I’m … I’m not! It’s horrifying, Viktor! I’ve done horrible things, too! But it's as if you're becoming increasingly angry that I do not think you are some sort of monster. And I don't." I never will.

Viktor looks up at the ceiling and blinks. It takes him a moment to collect himself.

"I let you think my magic was beautiful," Viktor says, "I let you want to study it, to… build upon it, knowing what it has done."

Jayce stands, flinching at the still-present soreness in his leg, and makes his way to sit on the settee closer to him. Viktor won't meet his gaze.

"I still do."

"Then you're deeply foolish," Viktor says. His voice is incredibly tense. He's clearly holding back tears.

"So be it," Jayce says.

For a brief moment, Viktor shifts towards him, as if he's going to reach out. But then he leans backward.

Viktor’s hand shakes. He takes a strained breath.

“I’m going to return to my chambers now, I think,” he says, blinking rapidly.

Jayce doesn't want him to go. He hates that Viktor's the type to suffer alone. But he understands. He could use some time to process all of this anyway.

“Alright. Umm… take your stew."

Viktor grabs his crutch and his stew and makes his way to the hall. He seems so… defeated. Jayce cannot fathom the weight of it all. The burden he’s been carrying. The loneliness of it. The guilt. How tragic, to hurt the very people you wanted to help the most.

Viktor pauses for a moment in the doorway. He looks back at Jayce as if he’s going to say something. Jayce waits.

"You didn't even ask me if you are at risk every time I heal you," Viktor says.

Jayce swallows.

"I figured you'd never do so if I were." Viktor sighs.

"You are too trusting, Jayce Talis."

Jayce blinks.

"Am I?"

Viktor shakes his head.

“After I healed you, it became… different. Healing you became a sort of… impulse, as if you were a charge of mine. Perhaps because I already healed you once. Sometimes when I heal you, I feel like my magic is… " Viktor looks at the floorboards. "Worth something, at least."

Jayce can't help but smile - His heart flutters.

"Still, Jayce," Viktor says. "You need to be more cautious. Less trusting. You worry me, sometimes."

This is not the first time Jayce has heard this. He sighs.

"I'll be fine, Viktor, truly."

Viktor nods at him and takes his leave. Jayce hears the creak of the floorboards as Viktor walks down the hall. Viktor's door shuts.

Jayce tries to steady himself. He thinks of a young boy without parents, just wanting to learn, love, and find a place in this realm. He thinks of a man causing devastation in the pursuit of salvation. He thinks of loneliness and fear, and 'People are mortal. We do not last.'

He finds an old cloth and wipes down the dusty dining table so the two can use it for breakfast in the morning.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

This chapter will cover Curiomancy. The next will look at Essentiamagy. Readers will notice that the additional work for this chapter has no practical component. As you are likely aware, Humanistic Magic has a strict age limit and requires both legal documentation and five years of schooling to perform. There is a reason the two Humanistic Magics have been saved for last: they are by far the most dangerous.

Of all the pairs of Magic, Humanistic Magic is by far the most controversial. Curiomancy is banned in five separate regions in our commonwealth, and Essentiamagy eight. These magics both involve the act of connecting directly with other people. A mage's state of mind, desires, and internal beliefs (See Dual Self, Chapter 2) can corrupt and influence a well-intentioned heal in disastrous ways.

However, this is not to say Curiomancy does not have its place. While an unpracticed mage can wield disastrous and unpredictable results, a practiced mage can use Curiomancy to save lives that would otherwise be completely lost.

- Welcome to Magic: A Common-Sense Guide for the Newly-Awakened Mage, Chapter 12: Curiomancy

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce wakes to the sound of the sea and the sight of grey skies out the window. He gets up to check for any boats, as if Caitlyn would somehow already have made up her mind. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees nothing but the sea.

When he looks down at the beach below, he sees Viktor sitting on a blanket by the shoreline, already awake, gazing at the choppy waters and endless horizon. Jayce decides to get on as many layers as he can and join him.

He’s freezing cold, incredibly grateful that Viktor's sleep tonic put him to sleep despite the temperature. Memories of their conversation last night come rushing back to him in waves.

On the dining table are some slices of bread and cheese that Viktor clearly cut himself and left out for him. Jayce smiles.

Today will have to be a slow day. They are both exhausted and sore from all the excitement. Jayce is looking forward to reading more of the tomes. He's sure that if Viktor wants to join, the rest will be good for both of them. But first, a morning visit. He goes outside to sit with him. Seagulls caw overhead. Last night's conversation is still haunting him.

“May I sit?” Jayce asks.

Viktor looks up and nods. Jayce has so much he wants to ask. How are you? Will you take me with you if you are banished? Are you as afraid as I am?

He doesn't think he'll like the answers, so he stays quiet.

“How did you sleep?” Viktor asks.

“At least we won't have to worry about food preservation," Jayce says. "The house is an icebox."

The wind blows harshly.

“We should find ourselves some extra blankets. There should be some.. Somewhere in this place. Perhaps,” Viktor says. Then, something catches his eye. His eyes fill with wonder.

"Jayce - look!"

Emerging from the shoreline is a Seafox— an orange sea lion-type creature with fox-like snouts and ears. They're quite large. Similar to seals in that regard, as well. They're known to be inquisitive. It sees them almost as soon as they see it.

He starts moving toward him.

"Oh, gods," Viktor laughs.

It's cute. Probably an adolescent. It's flippers making little divots in the sand.

"Awww…" Jayce says.

It looks at Jayce. Starts galumphing towards them quicker. Almost alarmingly quicker.

"Ack!" Jayce stands up in front of Viktor.

"Protect me, oh fearless knight," Viktor jokes.

It's getting really close. And then it barks. It's a loud, ear-piercing little yip. Jayce yelps in surprise. It's a mere few paces away. Jayce starts to make shooing noises with his hands. Its eyes simply follow the movement of his hand.

"He wants your bread," Viktor says.

"Well, he can't have it!"

Jayce tries to move. It follows him. Before Jayce knows it, he's taking some steps backward, oh gods it's following him. "Ah!"

"Just let go of your bread!" Viktor says through laughs.

Jayce starts to move more quickly. He's going as fast as he can given the soreness in his leg and the damn SAND. He knows he's screeching. It follows him so easily. It feels like a pursuit predator.

Viktor, meanwhile, is just laughing in this sort of loud, hysterical way Jayce has never heard before. He'd take the time to enjoy it were it not for his being chased. He tries to go in a circle, but the sea fox notices this and nearly charges.

Jayce yells and throws the bread at it, which it happily catches in his mouth before waddling back to the ocean.

When he turns around, Viktor is laughing so hard he's on his back fighting for air, his face is red, and he's completely taken by it. Jayce walks back up to him. So taken with him, it's difficult to put on a pout. Jayce can make out the dimples in his cheeks when he throws his head back. His nose scrunches and his lips curl upward in a way that reveals the little gap in his teeth, and there's no doubt going to be sand all in his hair after this, because it's splayed back all over the sand. Jayce can't even feel that embarrassed. Not when it results in something so beautiful.

"Is this really that funny to you?" he tries.

"Yes," he says. "You -"

Gods, he's laughing so hard he's crying. He wipes a tear from his cheek.

"You - and ugh and - you could have just given it over - we have so much bread!"

It's one of the many little moments he wants to commit to memory, to have to hold on to when the bad ones come.

He sits in the sand next to Viktor as Viktor tries to calm himself down and wipe his tears.

"You're the worst," Jayce says, meaning the opposite.

Later, when they're slowly but surely making their trek back to the manor, Jayce tells him they should have more bread on hand should they ever eat outside again.

"We shouldn't feed it anymore, Jayce," Viktor says gently.

"Why?"

Viktor almost stops walking. His face falls.

"Because… we know we won't be here for long, and it will learn to rely on us."

"Makes sense," Jayce says.

Viktor doesn't speak the rest of the walk inside.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

It is deeply important for each beginning mage to visit their Arcana regularly. Each Arcana is different. Like magic, it is personal. An expression of somewhere a mage once felt happiest or safest. Perhaps somewhere they associate with home.

While the Arcana refers to the realm where magic originates, each mage has their own little pocket of that infinity where they can go to connect with their inner self, access their magic visually, and, when advanced enough and permitted, welcome in and communicate with other mages. It is highly recommended that each mage visits their arcana for at least ten minutes every morning and night.

Much like life itself, we do not know why the Arcana exists, but it is inherently intertwined with our world. Every living species has a counterpart touched by the arcana.

It’s in that mystery of it where people can attach dangerous meanings - with either grandeur or disdain. In truth, magic is a force like the wind or the tides. It is neither good nor evil. It just is.

- Welcome to Magic: A Common-Sense Guide for the Newly-Awakened Mage, Chapter 1: The Arcana

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

They both have an urge to explore this strange old place, but need to be in better condition for all the winding staircases and slippery rocks.

Most of the rooms on the main floor where they're staying are empty and lifeless. There's an old room that likely used to be some sort of Parlor, but the manor has long since been cleaned out thoroughly. Jayce wonders why. If it's just time that's claimed this place, or if it's something else more sinister.

In the main room, Jayce lays out the six tomes he stole on the dining table. Viktor, clearly nervous about the study but not wanting to show it, chooses the least serious of the bunch, Boys, Books, and Bodies, which appears to be some sort of guide for young developing mages.

Jayce continues with the textbook, which proves deeply relevant and useful. Beyond useful. It's a dream come true. There's a chart with ten separate magic types. There's an entire description of the 'Realm' mages have, called the Arcana. Jayce frantically describes everything to Viktor as best as he can while writing it all down.

There is a moment where Viktor stops reading the book for developing teens and instead skims through each tome. He asks Jayce to look through the one he's working on, clearly looking for a certain subject. When there isn't one, he hands Jayce the book, takes the guide for teenagers back, and says he's going to look for extra blankets.

Jayce doesn't even have to ask him what he was looking for. He knows, with a sick feeling in his stomach, that he really just wants a "cure."

While reading, Jayce gets lost in one of these hazes he gets in, where the work consumes him, where he forgets to eat or drink or even relieve himself. He feels completely undone, reading all this. Electrified.

He doesn't realize that the sun has set until Viktor re-ignites the burnt-out hearth.

"Jayce," Viktor says, "You should eat."

While they eat, Viktor finally says what's on his mind.

"I'm surprised that even after you've had time to think on it, you still want to work with my magic."

"Of course I do, Viktor, this isn't something people were afraid of. This is something they embraced."

"I suppose…" Viktor says, "That if there is no cure, then learning to wield it is the second-best option. I just wonder if it's fruitless because -"

Viktor stops himself. Jayce knows that Viktor thinks he's getting banished to the point of near-certainty. That he thinks this is the end. And he also knows, with a great hurt, that Viktor does not want him to come. 

Jayce refuses to believe this will be their final days together. Caitlyn will see reason. They'll be alright. They have to be.

"I think," Jayce says, "That we shouldn't think about worst-case scenarios yet, right?"

Viktor nods.

"Alright."

It doesn't sound genuine.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The two don't stay up too late. Jayce's mood takes a turn after their non-conversation about what Viktor sees as their impending separation, and Viktor also seems despondent. Viktor found some blankets, but they have a strange smell to them and are too light to do any good. Jayce once again goes to sleep cold.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

He's on the beach. He's on the beach and there's blood in the sand, washed up onto the shore like algae.

"Viktor?!"

Nothing. No sound but the tides him. Behind him, where the sand meets solid ground, a massive cloud of fog obscures everything. The fog is everywhere. The terror suffocates him.

"Hello?! Viktor!"

Nothing.

Then, through the fog. A man.

"…. Father?"

Jayce squints. It's his Father. He's… covered in stab wounds but stands like they don't bother him at all. He beckons for Jayce to follow and walks back into the fog. Jayce follows, not knowing where else to turn. He steps into the fog and -

Stumbles.

He's on a little canoe. A fishing rod in his tiny hands. His Pa has taken him out for the day.

"The trick, my boy," his father says, pulling out a jar full of worms. "Is getting the right bait."

Jayce knows what happens next. He remembers this day so well. He was only seven.

His father pulls out a fish hook, then takes a worm from the jar. It's squirming.

"What are you - what are you going to do to it?" Jayce hears himself asking, voice still young and high.

"Well, you put it on the hook like so -"

Jayce watches his father hook the live worm. He starts sobbing near instantly.

"Oh, woah. Hey, hey, my boy, It's alright! It's just a worm!"

"You're hurting it!"

"No - no - it - it can't feel anything!"

"I don't care! I don't care! STOP! STOP!"

"Gods. Gods." His father turns his back to him. Does something to the hook. When he shows Jayce the hook, it's wormless. Jayce continues to cry. His father pulls out a dirty handkerchief and dabs at Jayce's tears.

"Why did you do that?" Jayce wails.

"It's - it's just to catch the fish. It's - hey - look. The fish eat the worms. We eat the fish. That's just—a part of life. Hey… don't cry. Don't cry."

"I don't - I don't - I don't want to fish," Jayce cries.

"Alright, son. You do not have to."

"I'm sorry…" he says these words in these kiddish, heaving sobs.

His father puts the fishing pole in the boat.

"Don't be, alright? Why don't we have a nice day on the water? Your mom tells me you've been really interested in rocks, huh? Tell me about it."

But then the sky turns to a ceiling, and he's on his stomach under the table. Two sets of feet in front of him.

"He's just… when I was his age, my father and I went fishing all the time, Ximena. He's not…"

"Darling, he's a sensitive boy. That's a good thing. So he doesn't like to fish. I'm sure there are plenty of other ways to bond with him."

"I think this city has made him… too soft."

"Psssht -"

"I'm serious, darling. One day, he's going to have to-

Jayce's blade slices into the intruder's throat. He just wanted the necklace. He just wanted the necklace.

-grow up "

The man just wanted the necklace. He could have taken it. Caitlyn has more. He stumbles out of her room and -

"Jayce," Viktor says. They're in the infirmary. "You've lost your attention again. I was saying I brought you some gems."

He hands Jayce a pouch. He has such a tranquil expression on his face. Jayce finds himself staring at the little mole above his lip. His heartbeat slows.

He opens the pouch.

There aren't gems inside… but teeth.

He tries to talk. No sound will come out. Viktor looks at him. Smiles a wicked smile. He leans over to whisper in his ear…

"Did you really think I'd take you with me?"

Jayce wakes up in his bed at the manor. He tries to calm his racing heart. He's sweating. He can't stay still. He hops out of bed. It's so cold. But the storm has stopped. It's finally peaceful outside, and moonlight streams in through the windows.

Even with the near-full moon, the manor at night is so dark, unsettling in every way. He slips on some loafers. Perhaps he should spend some time by the beach. Listen to the sea. He lights a candle and carries it with him down the hall.

The air outside is barely colder than the air inside. Jayce is careful on the slippery stone. He walks down the dark archway and out onto the -

There's a boat here.

No. No. No. He notices Caitlyn stands on the dock just as Icy terror grips him. She's standing almost inhumanly still, her figure bathed completely in shadow.

"Where is he?!?!"

She says nothing. She just keeps looking at him. Slowly points to the side.

Jayce turns. His world starts to fall apart.

Viktor is on the beach with a knight in full armor, being held in a chokehold.

They've bathed in the light of the moon. The knight stands behind Viktor towering. White and gold armor. His helmet makes him anonymous. Faceless. Viktor doesn't seem like he's fighting. He's not fighting this at all.

Jayce tries to run. But he can't. Because his leg doesn't work like that, and somehow the sand is so soft, he's just sinking. And he tries to scream, but his voice comes out in a rasp.

"Jayce -"

The knight drops Viktor from the chokehold but then pulls Viktor in by the waist. He pulls out a knife. Viktor throws his head back as if to welcome it. And there's nothing he can do. It's all over. It's all over. His sunlight. His everything.

He's failed. No. No. No

"Jayce. Jayce!"

The knight takes the dagger to Viktor's throat and slices cleanly through it.

The stars bleed out of the sky and -

"JAYCE!"

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce wakes with a gasp. He grips his own shirt, scrambling for his bearings. The room is dark. The storm outside still rages. It was a dream. It was a dream. And there's that voice as smooth as honey right by his ear.

"Jayce, it's alright, you were dreaming. Jayce. There you are. Breathe."

This one feels real, he thinks. This feels real. He tries to breathe, but it's failing him. He knows he's breathing so quickly he's just sucking in his own air. He tries to focus on the sight of Viktor, letting his eyes adjust to the outline of him in the dark.

He's alive. He is fine. He is still, miraculously, here with you.

Viktor puts a hand on his cheek. Jayce immediately leans into it. Grabs at the hand. Savors the feeling of those long, careful fingers and calloused palms and suddenly he's sick with how much more he wants, how much he is to lose.

"I- I - may I - "

Jayce doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but he's reaching for him. Viktor understands and nods. With a gasp of relief, Jayce carefully pulls Viktor into an embrace.

Gods how long he's wanted to hold him.

“I’m sorry,” Jayce says. “I must have woken you.”

Viktor just shushes him.

Jayce buries his head between Viktor's neck and shoulder as if he could hide from everything in that soft space. He smells like he always does, mint and sage, but with the added smoke of the hearth and salt of the sea.

Viktor runs a soothing hand up and down his back in a way that makes him forget everything else. He loves all the evidence that Viktor's alive. The breathing. The warmth. The slightly stilted yet decisive movements, as if Viktor had never been this kind of comfort to anyone but wants to so badly.

Jayce pulls him in as close as he can. Holds his entire world in his arms. And Viktor not only lets him but holds him tighter, as if he's trying to stop Jayce from falling. 

Once Jayce's breathing evens out completely, there's only so long that this can remain reasonable.

Viktor finally leans back enough to look at him. With the sleeve of his tunic, he wipes some sweat off of Jayce’s brow. The gesture is so absent-minded and kind that Jayce almost pulls him back in.

"Are you alright?" Viktor asks.

Jayce nods. He is now—more than. Rain continues to pour outside. Jayce doesn’t miss the way Viktor shivers. Viktor looks at him with trepidation.

“I… I do not - I would never impose or want to - perhaps be erm …” Viktor says, completely fumbling his words. “I mean this in a way that’s completely chaste, but I could stay here tonight, if you’d like.”

Jayce almost has to check that he’s not dreaming again. Because this seems so unlike him. But things are different in this house, in the middle of nowhere. Where, as much as Jayce refuses to admit it, every night together could be their last. Viktor certainly seems to think so.

“Alright,” Jayce says. His voice comes out tightly. Rain hammers on the windowsill.

They have grown more physically affectionate since the night of the Autumn Ball, which Jayce has rejoiced in. But this is different. He’s incredibly nervous again. About holding him just right. About getting him to stay. About not being too much or too little.

“You have to move over,” Viktor says gently. They’re whispering for no reason again. Jayce swallows and does. Then he watches as Viktor carefully moves to get under the blankets. The dream-like quality of it drowns out the remaining afterburn of the nightmare.

At first, Viktor lies on his back, stiff as a board, and then he looks at Jayce. He crooks his arm outward, makes a little gesture with his hand that clearly says, come here. Jayce's heart flutters. His mouth feels dry. He carefully makes his way over to him.

He lays his head on Viktor’s chest, wrapping an arm around his middle, and listens to the sound of everything he could ever want - that beautiful, beating heart - and tries to pretend like they are simply on a bad vacation - that nothing is coming for them - that nothing will take them from each other, certainly not themselves.

The tide rolls and crashes outside. Viktor's heartbeat is racing in his chest. Jayce can feel Viktor’s soft stomach rise and fall when he breathes. Viktor puts a tentative hand around Jayce’s back. And combs his fingers through Jayce's hair.

"You need a haircut," Viktor whispers. Jayce chuckles softly, lulled into a calm. He feels the sleep tonic is trying to reclaim him now that he's calmed.

Jayce swears he feels Viktor smell his hair. Perhaps, if he really reaches, even press a kiss to the crown of his head.

"You're very warm," Viktor whispers. Jayce can feel the vibrations as Viktor talks. Can hear the man swallow. Can feel each and every breath of his with the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"You are too," Jayce responds.

"If I am warm to you, then this house must be freezing."

Jayce smiles. He swears the room gets warmer than it should be, as if by a little bit of magic.

He can tell, by both his breathing and heart rate, that Viktor is very awake. Jayce is already fading again thanks to the tonic. And he hates it because he wants to stay like this all night. Awake and close to him while they're both still here.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

In the morning, the first thing Jayce notices is that he is not cold. Then the memory of last night returns. He looks over to his side. Feels immediately winded. Viktor's still here, sleeping on his side, hand outstretched, touching Jayce's arm.

The weather outside is grey, yet the rain does not fall hard enough to pound at the windows. It makes everything seem much quieter, aside from Viktor's breaths. He looks so peaceful, younger. Face smushed into the pillow - mouth slightly parted, a strand of hair falling over his face.

It's hard to tear himself away, but it's vital to know if people are coming for them. He sneaks out of bed and looks out the window at the horizon. There's no boat. He lets out a sigh of relief.

He hears Viktor stirring behind him.

Jayce leans against the windowsill. Watches him wake.

"Good morning," Jayce says. Viktor stiffens, as if he hasn't fully remembered last night. Then he relaxes again.

"Is there a boat?"

"No, don't worry."

Viktor sits up. He has this almost lost look on his face as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Jayce's heart swells. 

"Did you sleep through the night?" he asks, his voice still heavy from sleep. Jayce loves the sound of it. It's more gravelly. He hopes to hear it again and again.

"Yes," Jayce says.

For a moment, there's a silence—a heavy one. Jayce feels like getting back into bed would be oddly presumptuous somehow. Viktor fiddles with the sheets. Then, he surprises him.

"… If you would like," Viktor says, "We could try some magic today."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Conjuration, when done under careful guidance, of course, is a wonderful place for new mages to start. It is the most common center magic. The other type of creation magic, transmogrification, is equally beginner-friendly. We will discuss it in the next chapter.

Simply because conjuration is a great way to start, that doesn't mean it will be easy. It takes an intense focus and a great grasp of the dual self. Many beginners often fail to conjure their target object and will instead conjure items related to a more dominant, pressing internal need first. This is made worse when the conjurer is at odds with their internal self.

Say you wanted to conjure a wine glass, but your inner self has been missing your mother. You are likely to conjure up something that reminds you of her should your outer self be struggling with it.

Conjuration can be a great form of conversation with your dual. Sometimes, conjurers specifically work with conjuration when they are feeling lost, and do not quite know how they are feeling.

In order to properly conjure, you must acknowledge the feelings and needs of your dual. If you are at war with or ashamed of these feelings in any way, it will influence any magic.

- Welcome to Magic: A Common-Sense Guide for the Newly-Awakened Mage, Chapter 3: Conjuration

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

It is still raining, so the two decide to practice magic in an empty room downstairs. Cold and cavernous with quite an echo, it's not an ideal place to encourage a mage to tap into his inner self, but it will have to do.

After doing his research, Jayce is aware that he's taking the role of what the tomes would call a 'guide', a close figure who can help the mage realize and channel their magic.

But what Working with a Mage: Contemplations, Breathwork, and Emotional Guidance Tools For Mentors of Magic, failed to address, is what to do when your charge is an insolent ass.

Jayce finds an exercise in the guidebook that seems like it will suit him: a simple walk through to get him to feel more in touch with his arcana. Jayce pulls out a chair.

"Okay, so … umm. Are you comfortable?"

"…as I can be."

"Great, so… do you feel safe?"

"At any moment I could be banished from the only kingdom I've ever known, or perhaps executed, so I don't feel safe, no."

"I just meant… in this moment."

"Of course I feel safe," he drawls, looking up at Jayce through his lashes, "I'm with Piltover's handsome golden knight. He'll surely protect me from the terrifying seafoxes."

He's so focused on handsome that he forgets much else.

"Uh. R-right, umm," he flips through the book. "So close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Just close them, please. I don't know. It doesn't say everything."

"Take long, deep breaths in and out. Try to clear your mind of any thoughts. Any worry."

Viktor does so. The book says to give him around a minute.

"Now, without going to your arcana, picture the place it is based on. Feel your breath as one with your magic. Visualize all the best parts of it—no need for answers. Think. What does it smell like? What does it sound like? Who is with you?"

"Okay," Viktor says. "This is … not worth my time."

"What?! Why!"

"I just don't see how thinking about my childhood play spot is going to help me get a grasp on conjuration."

He is being purposefully obtuse. 

"This is the source we have, telling us that it works."

"Well, it didn't work for me, Jayce. I… I do not want to think of it."

His voice wavers. Jayce sighs.

"Can we try another, then?" Jayce asks. Viktor sighs yet nods.

Viktor refuses to do every single exercise Jayce proposes. No deep breathing. No reflections. No energy focusing. He seems to find every proposal ridiculous or too personal.

It gets… frustrating.

"I've conjured before, Jayce. Let's just … start. I do not want some sort of guided discussion about my feelings."

"Some of these aren't even discussions! It's just telling you to breathe."

"I breathe perfectly adequately on my own without some old book telling me how to do so!"

"Fine," Jayce says. "Fine."

The textbook says beginners should start with items you can hold in one hand —simple items, not many materials.

Viktor decides that his target object will be a dagger.

Viktor takes a deep breath and reaches out his hand. 

“Would you mind taking a step back? We don’t know what will happen.”

Jayce sighs but does as asked.

“If you take a few more steps back. Big steps, Jayce.”

Jayce eventually just leans against the wall.

Then, Viktor closes his eyes and extends a hand outward. Magic crackles in the air. Jayce can smell it. He's always loved the smell of Viktor's magic - like stone after rain. His hand gets bright and then …

Viktor stares at an object in his hand, then closes his fist around it.

“What did you pull?”

Viktor sighs.

“Not a dagger.”

He then shows Jayce a chunk of amber. Jayce’s breath catches. It’s beautiful. It’s completely paradoxical. Something ancient. Something brand new. Jayce tries to catch Viktor’s eye. He's flushing. Jayce swallows. The amber seems like it's… for him. Jayce does not say that in his notes.

“What were you thinking of?”

“I was simply trying to visualize a dagger, Jayce,” Viktor says. He’s getting defensive. 

Viktor gets set up to try again. He pulls another object.

It's more amber, just in the vague shape of a dagger.

“May I… may I keep these?” Jayce asks. The room is so cold that he shivers a little. He should have brought his outer cloak. He wants to keep the first stone in his pocket forever. His favorite person made his favorite stone. Viktor sighs and nods.

He tries again. Amber. Again. More Amber. Again …. a bouquet of moonlilies. Viktor groans in frustration—Jayce's heart races. It's just amber and moonlilies over and over. He seems more and more desperate for it not to be so each time.

At one point, he starts conjuring scissors, which seems a little closer to what he wants, but it upsets him all the same.

"Hey, just take your time, right? The book says it's completely common." Jayce says. Viktor just grunts in response.

Magic crackles around them, still bright in the musty room. Jayce shivers again, then - pop!

A larger object comes through in a bright flash. It’s far bigger than what the tome advised for beginners. It drapes over Viktor’s hand and onto the stone floor.

It’s a blanket. Viktor tenses once he realizes what he’s conjured. He’s faced mostly away from Jayce. Jayce can see his jaw clench. Jayce feels like his heart might burst. When Viktor turns around, he won’t meet Jayce’s eye.

“Are - are you alright?” Jayce manages. “This was a bigger object than the tome advised -”

“I am fine,” Viktor says. “Here.”

He thrusts the blanket in Jayce’s direction without looking at him. Jayce’s mouth goes dry.

"Thank you," Jayce says.

The tips of his ears are red. Jayce feels the blanket. Heavy and velvety and incredibly soft. A deep red. Gold trim. Jayce’s own colors.

“Th-thank you, Viktor. It’s very warm.”

He can hear Viktor swallow. Jayce is fully aware that Viktor has walked into a certain state of vulnerability he did not want to. He wants to be kind to that. But the flush in Viktor’s cheeks and his clear embarrassment feel like a tell. Jayce tries to stifle his hopes, but Viktor just summoned Jayce’s favorite stone over and over, and then a blanket to keep him warm. The fact that this was an accident makes it no less damning.

Viktor tries again. This time, a ripped-out page of something appears. He looks at it with a certain amount of horror, crumbles it, and puts it in his pocket.

"What was that?" Jayce asks.

"Nothing," Viktor hisses. "Nothing.. just. I think I am finished for the day. This is… not worth the time."

"What?"

"Sorry, Jayce, I -" Viktor has shame radiating from him in waves. "I just can't."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Any seasoned mentor of magic knows that the relationship between Guide and Mage requires far more than that of mere teacher and student. That is why so many mages go through trial periods with guides where they decide whether or not they are a 'good match.'

For the Guide-Mage dynamic to function, there must be a solid foundation of trust and care. If a mage does not feel safe with their guide, their sessions will be fruitless. Additionally, if a guide does not know their mage, they will not be able to guide them effectively in session.

There is much debate about whether or not a mage's guide should be a seasoned professional or someone close to them that they love and trust. Both have their benefits and drawbacks, as discussed in Chapter 12.

- Breathwork, Visualizations, and Emotional Guidance Tools For Guides of Magic, Chapter 1: Trust

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

After an hour or so passes, Jayce, feeling probably a bit more elated than he should considering how embarrassed Viktor was about the entire event, decides to find Viktor. He finds him on the top floor in a room cluttered with… clocks of all things. It's one of the few rooms they have not explored.

He's sitting on the windowsill of these massive arched windows that overlook the back part of the island. It's even rockier. No beach at all. Just driftwood and seaweed. Viktor's fiddling with one of the pairs of scissors he's conjured.

He's heard Jayce coming. His brace has been creaking in a way he needs to fix when they get home, so Jayce can't really sneak up on anyone. Jayce sits on the other side of the windowsill, arching up one knee and letting his braced leg rest near Viktor's.

Viktor rests his face on his knee.

"I was an ass," Viktor says.

"It's okay," Jayce says. "I am sure this might be frightening for you."

Viktor looks at him like he wants to argue, but he doesn't. He just looks out at the sea. Their leg braces touch a little.

"I… I am sure it is quite obvious by now, but I hate it. I wish I didn't have it. I wish I didn't … feel so much."

Jayce knows a traditional your magic is beautiful will just get him angry again. He swallows. He leans forward and traces his finger along the lowest rung of Viktor's brace.

"I for one am thrilled you have it. If you didn't, we wouldn't have gotten to know each other."

Viktor's eyes widen. There are so many moments like these, where Jayce will pay him a compliment, and Viktor will get all flustered and blush and take it well, and then his face will fall as if Jayce just said something tragic.

The working clocks in this horrific clock room keep ticking as the seconds go by. Jayce decides to keep pushing.

"And… it's good that you feel, even if it's horrible. You should… let yourself more," Jayce says. "It makes you human."

"And what if I don't want to be?" Viktor jokes, voice still quiet. "If I could be some… unfeeling creature, I would probably make better choices. Get more done."

He says it like a joke, but the sentiment is real.

"What's an apothecary who doesn't care for their patients? What's an inventor without passion?"

Viktor finally looks at him. He smiles a bit.

"I… hate when you're right."

"You should get used to it," Jayce teases. "I'm right frequently."

Viktor raises the scissors in his hand as if he's going to stab him with them before going back to fiddling with them.

"Does my hair really need that much of a cut?" Jayce teases.

Viktor hesitates for a moment. His face falls again. Jayce curses himself for hitting on a sensitive topic.

"I believe I conjured it for myself. I… miss how it used to be."

"I saw it in your arcana," Jayce says. "I can cut it if you'd like."

Viktor swallows, looking at the scissors.

"Alright," he says. Jayce has to stop his jaw from dropping. He completely expected a 'No' on that front. He practically drags Viktor to the dining area. 

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

As a parent, it's important to know that your child is under no legal obligation to imprint on you. Forcing a mage to imprint is a crime and a violation of trust. When your little Mage awakens, it is important to explain to them the gravity of imprinting.

Imprinting binds two people through the arcana. This will mean something different for each pair. But often, imprinted pairs can access each other's feelings and thoughts (when consent is given).

Occasionally, a child may accidentally imprint on a non-mage. Do not fear, an imprint done without intention is only half of a link. When imprints are not solidified, a non-mage can enter your mage's arcana, but will appear incorporeal. The solidification process requires a person to place their hand on the mark they've left with the intent of bringing both of them into the arcana.

Once a link is made, it can never be broken. It is probably best to tell your young one that this should be left to the adults.

- So, Your Child is Magic!, Chapter 9: Imprinting

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

He has Viktor sit at the dining table. Jayce brings out a dusty old hand mirror from the dresser in Viktor's room and puts an old blanket over his shoulders. 

"You know," Jayce says, "This would be easier if you just let me back into your arcana."

Viktor swallows.

"I do not want to hurt you. I'm not ready, Jayce."

Jayce wants to ask for clarification, but Viktor hands him the scissors and coughs as if to say. Let's start already. Jayce props the hand mirror against a rusty candelabra so they can see.

Jayce holds that soft hair in his hands, pulls it back.

"Are you ready?"

Viktor nods. Jayce cuts it. It falls loose and choppy back over Viktor's face. Viktor lets out a sigh, almost in relief, and Jayce has to stuff down the insane thought of potentially keeping a lock of his hair. Jayce sits near him and starts to shape it.

It's so intimate with him. Being so close to his neck. Knowing he trusts Jayce so implicitly. He takes extra care around the ears. Finds a mole on the back of his neck that was previously covered by hair. Imagines what it would be like to kiss him there.

He wants Viktor to love this. He wants Viktor to feel as good about this as he does about how his hair looks in the arcana. He combs through it gently, using the comb to make sure its as even as possible.

"Did your hair always have some lighter parts in it?" Jayce asks.

"No. That was a part of becoming a mage, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" Jayce says. He brushes some hair off Viktor's nape. Viktor shivers a little under the touch.

"It's quite… showy, no?"

"It's nice," Jayce says. "It really suits you."

Jayce swallows when he sees the flush bloom over the back of Viktor's neck.

He wants Viktor to feel so cared for. He wants Viktor's trust in him to pay off. They don't converse much. Viktor has his eyes closed. He gets nervous when Jayce gets by his ear, flinching a bit.

"Don't worry," Jayce says. He knows he's far closer to him than necessary.

"I'm not," Viktor says. Viktor's knuckles go white on the armchair.

Jayce has him turn so they're facing each other. He allows himself to study the details of his face as he cuts the front pieces. Tries to get them to be wispy and soft like they were in the arcana, curtaining his sharp features.

Whenever Jayce needs him to move a little, he'll put his fingers on Viktor's chin. Viktor doesn't seem to mind.

Some little bits of hair fall over his lashes. Jayce brushes them off with his thumb. Viktor's breathing stutters a bit. Jayce has to keep his eyes on the hair. Try not to think too much about how good it felt to be held by him last night.

"You seem to know what you are doing," Viktor says as Jayce fusses.

"My mother didn't see the use in going to a barber and found the Piltovian ones were always quite demanding in terms of coin or trade, so she taught me," Jayce says.

Viktor looks so, so good. He always does. But gods. It frames his face so well. The softness of it complements it. Jayce worries this will cause him to get even more attention from potential suitors when they get back home.

Jayce brushes his hair back with his fingers. Viktor hums in contentment. They've been getting so much more intimate. Dizzyingly so. He savors every second. 

"I think I'm finished," Jayce says. He hands Viktor the mirror. Viktor's eyes widen.

"Oh…"

"Do you like it?"

"Jayce, I … thank you."

Viktor looks so… emotional. Surprisingly so. Jayce is a bit disarmed. Jayce puts a hand on his shoulder. He tries not to tense in surprise when Viktor grabs it on his own.

"So.. you like it?"

"Yes, Jayce! It's very nice."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce can't stop staring at him. It's been hours. They're sitting opposite each other on the settee with their books. Eventually, Viktor mentions it.

'What?"

"You look nice, is all, sorry."

Viktor smiles. Jayce swears he can see him blush.

Throughout the rest of evening, they lounge together, talk, and theorize. Jayce opens one of the less serious of the tomes and finds what is likely a very over-generalized personality breakdown of mages and the color of their magic. Viktor's white is called 'Pearl.' He reads the section about him out loud, much to Viktor's mortification.

Somehow, throughout the night, their legs have become more entwined. It's as if the more they touch each other, the more they need it. Jayce relishes in the warmth, even though sitting next to Viktor on the settee meant sacrificing his place by the hearth.

“Here’s what it says about you. Pearl mages often come off as aloof and unfeeling,” Jayce reads. “That’s simply untrue.”

“Eh.”

“You didn’t come off aloof when I first met you.”

“In case you don’t remember, you were very, very high.”

Jayce absolutely remembers.

“Ah ah. You were very sweet the moment you stepped into that carriage… ‘Known for being incredibly hard workers, ’ true, ‘pearl mages will stop at nothing to achieve their goals. An incredibly cerebral type of mage that might find joy in art or invention. Socially, they tend to keep a small circle, but will be a deeply loyal and loving companion to every friend and family member they have, as long as they're treated with respect.’ awww.”

Viktor kicks him a little. Jayce sees the next sentence. He raises his brow. Coughs. The fireplace continues to crackle beside them, warm and alive.

“‘When it comes to courtship-’”

“- Oh, Gods.”

“‘When it comes to courtship, pearl mages tend to be cautious.'"

Viktor won't look at him.

"'When a pearl mage falls in love, however, they are as fiercely devoted to the object of their affections as they are to their passions, perhaps even more so..’ awww.” Jayce teases. "'In courtships, the pearl mage often likes to take the lead, and will spare no effort or expense to bring their partner joy.' Viktor, is that true?’”

Viktor fiddles with his hands.

“I do not know. I’ve... never courted anybody,” Viktor says, staring at his hands. Jayce’s heart clenches. “I suppose I always felt I was better off alone.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Perhaps,” Viktor says. “I certainly felt that way before becoming a mage. After, well, I think courting somebody would be incredibly dangerous. So I will not do it. Unless I can somehow rid myself of my magic.”

“I think,” Jayce says, “That perhaps you aren’t as volatile as you think.”

“I think,” Viktor says, “You don’t realize that even if there is a small chance I could hurt … someone, then I will not take it.”

“Everyone has the potential to do harm inside them, even without magic. ”

“True, but not everyone is capable of harnessing the weather, Jayce.”

Jayce swallows.

“Yeah, alright,” Jayce says, trying to make his voice not waver.

Viktor’s done nothing but pull him in close, then push him away, then pull him in again. An agonizing tide. He seems to want, but then he doesn’t. He understands why he'd be so afraid. But Jayce wishes he'd operate outside of his fears. For this. For them. 

To Viktor, it doesn't seem worth it.

“What else does it say?” Viktor asks.

The following paragraphs deal with what the pearl mage brings to the bedroom and then moves on to their flaws. Neither section he typically wants to read out loud.

"Nothing important," Jayce says. Viktor doesn't seem to believe him, but doesn't push him. The hearth starts to go out.

“Have you taken your tonic?”

"Ah, no, I should go do that. Probably time to get some sleep, yes?"

Please ask. Please ask. I don't care that you're terrified of courting. I'd give everything to hold you again.

"Yes," Viktor says. They walk down the hall. Viktor stops at his room.

"Good night, Jayce."

"Yes, Good night."

Viktor closes his door. Jayce closes his. His room is cold. He didn't make the bed today; the sheets are raised on two sides. And… oh… the blanket Viktor conjured is folded by his pillow. He must have put it in here while Jayce was filling the bath.

The blanket helps him make up his mind. Jayce takes a deep breath. There would be no harm in asking. They established no courting earlier tonight anyways and -

Viktor opens his door at almost the same moment.

"Oh," Viktor says. "Hello."

"Hello," Jayce says. "It's still quite cold, isn't it?"

"Mmmhmm."

"So would you want to..?

Jayce gestures to his bed. Viktor swallows and grips at his crutch.

He looks as nervous as I feel.

"I'll be right in."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

After some awkward negotiations and fumbling, they wind up with Viktor curled around Jayce's back, a hand lying over his stomach. His breath hot on Jayce's neck. Jayce could die here happy.

He's absolutely thrilled by it to the point where the sleep tonic will have to knock him out. He wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

"Viktor," Jayce says, listening to the combined sounds of the ocean and his breathing. "Can I ask you something?"

Viktor tenses.

"Depends on what it is," Viktor says it like he's joking, but Jayce knows it's true.

"Today, when I cut your hair, you seemed….expressive."

He feels the weight of Viktor's forehead rest between his shoulder blades. The rain is lighter tonight. More calming.

"I started wearing my hair that way right after I became a mage - when I was - I don't know - the worst version of myself, I suppose. The least myself. I don't know. It's strange. But I… hadn't been able to let it go. Until today, with you."

Jayce knows Viktor will feel the way his breath hitches, so he doesn't bother hiding it. Instead, he decides to be brave.

"Oh,' Jayce says. He puts his hand over Viktor's, strokes a finger along the knuckles. "Thank you for telling me."

They settle like that for a long few moments. Jayce almost believes Viktor has fallen asleep until he says one more thing.

"You… have a way of bringing out the best in people, Jayce, even when they are at their worst."

Viktor says it so quietly, so hushed against the back of Jayce's neck, his breath so close that it feels like he's centimeters away. Jayce squeezes his hand.

"You've always been too kind."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The next morning, Viktor agrees to try the magic work again.

This time, they decide to do their work on the beach. The sky is dark gray, threatening rain but not providing it.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Jayce says about the book of soul work. “But I promise it'll be worth it."

Viktor sighs. Jayce lays out a blanket for him. One of the less musty ones he found in a closet. Viktor still eyes it with a reasonable skepticism before sitting down.

“Okay. So, sit or lie back in your most comfortable position.”

Viktor lies on the blanket, making a motion to fix his hair before realizing that it's not going to bug him anymore. He lays his hands at his sides, palms up.

“So,” Jayce says. “This only works where you feel completely safe. Comfortable and familiar ideally but.. You know. So I'll ask you again… do you feel safe.”

“Eh, I suppose,” Viktor’s looking at him with a little smirk. Jayce can’t help it. He thinks he might pout.

“… Of course I do,” he finally says.

“Okay, good. So the book says to close your eyes, but don’t go to the Arcana. Stay here, please?”

Direct your charge with confidence, the book says. Jayce does not feel it. Guide the student's breath for a minimum of two minutes.

Jayce has no idea what the book means by that. Has to pretend he does and hope for the best.

“Take deep breaths, and focus just on your breathing. Listen to the waves.”

“For how long?”

“Just umm… stay in the now. You have actually to try, Viktor.”

“I know, I know.”

Jayce gets the pleasure of just watching him breathe for a while. He gets so lost in it that Viktor eventually opens his eyes and gives him a look.

"Oh, we can move on," Jayce says. "This is a talk-through exercise, but remain in that space of calm. Breathe fully. What is causing your disconnect with your dual?"

"… I don't want to do this one," Viktor says. "How about one where we don't talk?"

“Alright," Jayce flips through some pages.

"Remain in that spot, breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Think of your dual—the conflict within you. Allow yourself to visualize a day that would satisfy both of you. Where there are no obstacles, none of life’s complications. What kind of day would make your inner self and your outer self happy? It does not matter if it is impossible. What does it look like where you are no longer at odds?”

“Listen to the sound of the ocean. Breathe in. Let yourself feel safe. Present. What are you doing on this perfect day? Where are you? Who is with you?”

Jayce lets Viktor breathe for another minute. He watches as he actually relaxes into the blanket. Feels a surge of pride.

“Now, with that day in mind, feel the web of the arcana stretch within you. There is no two. Just you. Are you one?”

Viktor nods. Jayce loses his place in the book. 

"Great. Umm. Okay. Now allow yourself to simply be. No judgement. No fears. Reach out to the divine arcana. Visualize that picture of bliss. Understand there is no shame attached to it, but what you have put on yourself."

Viktor then opens his eyes. He’s looking right at Jayce. Jayce barely catches it at first, so focused on the tips in the book for how to actually do this properly. His expression is unreadable, but not unpleasant. Arched brows. The hint of a smile. He seems relaxed.

“I think -” Jayce says, “I think you’re supposed to keep your eyes closed.”

Viktor is taking these big, deep breaths.

And then his eyes glow white—that beautiful, pearlescent white signature of his magic. He throws his head back. And then he lets in a little gasp that has Jayce blushing because it sounds a lot like pleasure. But gods its magnificent.

Jayce can feel it. The magic is coming to life in the air. Little pops of it gathering around. He can see it so clearly under the cloud-darkened sky. Viktor’s hands start to glow, then what Jayce recognizes to be the scar lines all over his torso, and oh - it looks like legs too - come alight.

At first, Jayce thinks Viktor is arching his back, but no, he's floating. And he seems so at peace. And he floats higher and higher until he turns upright instead of on his back.

Jayce watches him rise and rise. And he's so focused on him that he doesn't realize the sunlight hitting his face until it becomes too radiant to ignore.

In a small patch above where Viktor floats, the clouds begin to part. Jayce gasps. His eyes start to well up as he's bathed in rays of sun for the first time in days. Beams of sunlight radiate directly on them, creating their own little oasis. Viktor's bathed in that sunlight, glowing like a god. As beautiful as pure arcana. A myth of the ancients. Jayce's knees shake with the effort to stay upright.

He looks sent from the heavens, palms outstretched. Head tilted a little to the side, almost as if in bliss. His cloak billows, clouds happily parting for him.

Jayce understands right here and now that he is not a being with magic but he is the magic. He is that unknowable arcana. He is not just Jayce's sunlight, but sunlight itself. He's glad they're so far from civilization. Anyone from miles away could see the ethereal way the clouds have parted, concentrated rays of sun reflecting off the rolling sea.

Its the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

When Viktor floats downward, Jayce reaches for his crutch and shakily hands it to him. Viktor lands in the sand as if he’s done this thousands of times. Jayce stays there, in his light, completely frozen for a moment.

Viktor’s stopped glowing. He looks at his own hands as if in surprise, then back up towards Jayce.

“Huh,” he says, after all of that. “Fascinating. That felt very nice.”

Jayce swallows. 

“Jayce? Are you alright?”

"Umm… yes?"

The sky is still parted. Jayce clutches at the tome in his hands for dear life.

“I …. I felt something come… untangled. I don’t know. It is… hard to describe,” Viktor says. 

He reaches out a hand and focuses—magic crackles around them. Then, a dagger appears in his hand. He beams when he looks at Jayce. Jayce has to sit down. He does so, plopping down onto the blanket.

“Jayce. Are you sure you are doing all right?”

“That was… really … beautiful.”

Viktor looks up at the sky—the beams of light.

"Glad there are no boats ahead," Viktor says. "I'd be headed straight for the gallows."

"Never," Jayce says. And he doesn't mean to say it so harshly, but he does. And he… he wants to touch him. But suddenly he feels so small. So unworthy of it. Who is he? To have been playing such silly pretend? No wonder why Viktor doesn't want him for good.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

After supper, Jayce and Viktor put together a list of questions they still have about magic after reading through much of the tomes. They still have so much unknown to them. 

To do this, they sit on the couch with Jayce's quill and notebook. Jayce initially gets close as an excuse to help Viktor see the notes. And then Viktor puts an arm around him, and that dizzy feeling returns, that need. And then Jayce is leaning back onto his chest.

Jayce knows that what is happening between them on this island will not be replicated. He knows that Viktor is only treating him like this because he thinks this will be their final days. He also knows, with a painful certainty, that if they are allowed home, Viktor will feel so out of sorts about all of it that he'll probably pull away.

Still, Jayce lets Viktor play with his hair. He lets Viktor grab his hand that's not holding the quill and hold both of them up to the firelight to look at where they touch, how they compare.

He lets Viktor come into his bed, and he smiles when Viktor throws a sheet over both of them so they can talk under the covers. He cherishes the way Viktor's face looks, candlelight softened further by the linens.

He tries so hard to hold all of it with him now. He knows that even if they remain together, Viktor is too afraid, too stuck, and perhaps not nearly as in love (if at all), to want to try being something real without an end date.

He knows, with every touch, that he will likely be living off the memory for the rest of his life.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce wakes the next morning to the feeling of fingers tucking some hair behind his ear, then making that same soothing, repetitive motion. He opens his eyes to find Viktor lying on his side next to him, face pressed into the pillow.

The sun is finally shining, giving him such a handsome glow. It’s such a beautiful way to wake up, made all the more wonderful by the fact that Viktor keeps stroking his face.

Viktor is looking at him with a sort of grave fondness that's completely disarming. Viktor’s clearly already been up, lying over the bedding.

“Hello,” Jayce says. “It’s finally sunny out.”

“Good morning,” Viktor says.

Jayce wants to ask why he’s being so soft, but there's a part of him that worries about the answer.

“Did you dream?” he asks.

Jayce shakes his head.

“Did you?”

Viktor shakes his head.

Jayce could stay like this forever. In this terrible bed in this terrible house, his love running a hand along his hair. Viktor’s brown hair looks lighter in the sunshine. Jayce stares at the mole he loves under his eye. Viktor's hand, which isn’t occupied with Jayce, suddenly lights up, catching them both off guard. A little moonlilly appears in his palm.

Viktor swallows. "Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Jayce says in a whisper. He takes the moonlilly from Viktor's hand and puts it in Viktor's hair.

Jayce can tell he’s nervous. Or - overwhelmed, or something. His most optimistic side swears Viktor is looking at Jayce with a similar look that Jayce must look at him with. Jayce laughs a little as Viktor takes the flower out of his hair and puts it in Jayce's.

"Suits you better," he says.

Jayce can't help but smile and scoot closer. But there's only so much closer he can get.  Jayce doesn’t know how they wound up so close. But they're so so close.

Jayce looks into those eyes, heart pounding. It’s all he’s ever wanted, right here in front of him. Viktor touches their foreheads together, and Jayce forgets how to breathe. How to think. How to do anything but respond to it, desperately snaking a hand through the hair at the nape of Viktor's neck.

He can feel Viktor's breath on his nose. He notices the most minuscule of freckles in the man's eye. And then Viktor puts a hand on his cheek, and Jayce feels like magic in the man's hand. Like he’s been weaved from that sacred, mysterious arcana. Made just for Viktor. Just for this.

Jayce sucks in a breath.

Waves crash along the rocky shoreline.

Viktor kisses Jayce so gently that he feels like he might shatter.

It feels like the sky parting in just one place.

Viktor's lips barely graze his. It's a tentative, whisper-soft question. Jayce immediately answers, making something between a whine and a gasp and pulling him in closer.

His lips are so soft. His kisses are so sweet and slow. And he does it Again. Again. Again. Careful, covetous between stilted little sighs and desperate inhales. Jayce can’t help the pitiful noise he makes, born out of the frantic, surging need. Viktor hushes him a little, kissing the tip of his nose before moving back to his lips for a long, languid kiss that has them both gasping when they part.

Distantly, Jayce has a very horrible suspicion about what Viktor kissing him actually means, but he shoves it to the side because this is all he could want, even if the floor is about to give way.

"Jayce," Viktor says, with a tone like he's about to say something horrible. "I should tell you -"

"Don't," Jayce says, putting their foreheads together. "Please, just a little longer. Please."

Viktor obliges, Jayce can feel the way he's shaking, not even as if he's simply nervous, but also holding himself back, and Jayce wants to fall apart in Viktor's hands.

Viktor slowly moves so he's more on his front. Jayce lies back. Viktor can hold him closer like this. Jayce can feel the racing of his heart. 

Jayce runs a hand along the planes of his back, and he tries to commit to memory the feeling of each and every notch of his spine. The sharp jut of his shoulderblates. The soft curve of his neck. Jayce hopes that one day, he will know Viktor's body well enough that he could sculpt it from memory.

Viktor gasps a little when Jayce deepens the kiss, but responds in kind, sucking at his lower lip and grabbing Jayce's waist. There's a little flick of the tongue. There's shaky hands on flushed red cheeks. The smell of mint.

There's the creaking of the dilapidated bedframe. The sound of the sea. The sound of Viktor's moans and sighs as Jayce takes a moment to kiss below his Jaw, down his neck, at that mole near his collarbone. And he makes the most delectable of sounds. Like a siren's song so sweet he'd be happily lured, knowing what's waiting. He is being lured in a way. He loves him so much that he doesn't want to stop, even though he knows what Viktor was trying to say. Even though it feels like he's jumped off a cliff's edge - the fate that awaits him is brutal but the fall makes him feel like he's flying. 

He kisses that mole below his eye, then right above his lips. Then just kisses him again and again and again. Jayce wants to feel him everywhere. He wants to know every single inch of him like he knows the heat of the forge or the layout of the palace grounds or the sounds of lumaflies on hot summer nights. 

He wants to stay here for hours. He wants this to be their day. He wants to make love to him in the light of the morning and map out each and every freckle in the evening like he’s charting stars. Every scar. Every sensitive patch of skin that’s been touched and reborn by the arcana. He wants more time, but the why now keeps rearing its ugly head. Jayce doesn't want this to stop, but it's going to.

Viktor pulls him in for another kiss, and Jayce savors it. Savors the heat between them. Savors the way Viktor slows everything down and just keeps him there. And he can't let go. He doesn't want to let go. 

But Viktor’s never fully tangible, that’s always been the problem. He’s the salty seawater crashing along the rocks. He’s that deep, heady smoke from the hearth. He’s sunlight. Present and beautiful, yet completely impossible to keep in your grasp. He's made himself that way. Jayce doesn't understand why, and sometimes it makes him furious, but he loves him all the same. 

“Jayce -” Viktor says, wiping at the wetness on his face. “What's wrong?”

Nothing. Everything. 

One of the many things Viktor has taught him is that, as much as he doesn't want to, as much as he'll fight and claw and battle his way away from it, he will eventually have to look truth in the eye. 

"If I were to look out that window, would there be a boat on the horizon?" Jayce whispers. 

Viktor sits up. Shocked. With a sick stomach, Jayce pulls himself away and goes to the window. He looks out to the sea. He’s never ever hoped to be so wrong so much.

He’s right.

There’s a boat on the horizon.

Viktor’s so silent behind him, it’s like he’s not even there, but the temperature drops substantially. Jayce keeps his eyes on the boat and tries not to weep. 

When Jayce turns to him, his heart sinks. The bed is covered in moonlilly petals. Viktor must have conjured them when they kissed.

If Caitlyn truly does banish Viktor, Jayce thinks he might stay here for a while, at least until the smell of him fades from the sheets.

“How did you know?” Viktor asks. Jayce can hear his voice break.

Jayce tries to keep himself steady. 

“Because the only time you’d want to kiss me is if you were saying goodbye.”

Chapter Text

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

In many ways, it's a worse truth than if Viktor didn't want him at all: the fact that Viktor wants this too, but the want is not enough. Regardless, Jayce regrets his words the moment Viktor registers them. His eyes widen. He leans back as if hit. An unmistakable chill fills the room.

Jayce suppresses a shiver. He does not want to make Viktor feel worse. Viktor hugs himself. Jayce can do nothing but watch as the man shivers from his own cold. Jayce looks back out at the water.

"We probably have what? An hour? Two?" He barely recognizes the sound of his own voice.

Gods, Viktor's hair is all mussed from Jayce’s fingers. Jayce's hands twitch at his sides, his desire plaguing him, at war with the stomach-coring despair that's threatening to steal his breath. They don't have enough time to be this unhappy.

Viktor looks lost. A flower petal falls from his hair, and the moment Jayce sees it, he's crossing the room and sitting on the bed next to him. Viktor stiffens but does not move.

Jayce is leaning down to press their foreheads together before Viktor can say anything more, magnetized. The gesture is both a question and a result of the molten need surging through him. Viktor lets out a shaky breath. Jayce feels the warmth of it on his cheek.

"I thought-" Viktor says.

"I know," Jayce says. He puts a hand back in Viktor's soft hair. "Just- please-"

Jayce doesn't have to say anything more before they're colliding again like waves on stone.

It happens so quickly he's breathless with it. It is not soft this time, but frantic. Pained. Viktor's hands are in his hair, then over his back, then at his waist as if he can't decide where to put them. Jayce makes a pitiful sound, high and desperate - one he would regret if he had any room in his mind for anything other than the feeling of Viktor's lips on his. His tongue. The heat of him.

Viktor is clearly trying his best to hold back, but he makes a couple of desperate sounds of his own that make Jayce feel dizzy and ravenous. He gives Jayce a gentle shove backward, and Jayce takes the hint, scrambling to right himself on the bed. He lies back on the soft, petal-covered sheets. The bed frame creaks as Viktor joins him.

He makes his way on top of him, slotting their legs together, leaning over his chest. Jayce is painfully aware of his growing arousal—the proximity.

And then -

The moment they make eye contact again, it's as if time freezes. Viktor goes completely still, hovering over him, the morning sun from the window behind him illuminating him like a god.

Viktor's expression shifts from something frantic to something much, much softer. His hair is falling over his face, flushed and alive, pupils blown. Jayce reaches out his hand and cups Viktor's cheek. As he does so, Viktor sighs and leans into the touch, further cracking. And gods, what a feeling it is, to see someone so sacred find solace in the palm of your hand.

Jayce swallows when Viktor cups his chin and runs a thumb along his lower lip.

Nobody has ever looked at Jayce like this. Viktor stares at Jayce like he is the only thing that matters. With an adoration like he's made of miracle. With a great sadness, like he's about to burn and melt in his arms.

"Oh, Jayce," he says. He speaks in a drawn-out, wavering whisper.

"Viktor?"

"Are you positive that this is what you want?"

Jayce swallows. More than anything. He wants to feel every curve of him. He wants to run his hand along all the parts of his skin woven with magic. He wants to know the taste of him, the smell of him. He wants to see the way he moves when he's in euphoria - hear the way he sounds in ecstasy.

He wants, more than anything, to do something good and gentle with his tired, violent hands.

"Yes," Jayce says. "…Are you?"

Viktor lets out a breath that almost sounds like a huff of laughter. Like he just said something absurd. He caresses Jayce's cheekbone with his thumb.

"Yes."

Finally, finally, finally, Viktor kisses him again, this time with such a softness that it feels like reverence. With such a softness, Jayce starts to shake. Viktor runs a soothing hand through his hair as Jayce wraps his arms around Viktor's back.

The joy is so great that it brings the sorrow right back to the surface. He will lose this. This will never happen again. Every kiss, every flick of the tongue. Every time Viktor rolls his hips and causes surges of pleasure to course down his spine, is a reminder of the fact that he might lose it all in less than an hour. That even if he doesn't, this will not happen again.

They escalate. Jayce feels ravenous, cut open. His entire body thrums with need. Viktor's gentle fingers in his hair turn into a stinging grip. Sweet kisses turn into frantic, messy explorations. Viktor's hand wanders down Jayce's side until it lands on his hip bone. Jayce responds by running one of his down the small of Viktor's back. The sound of them begins to drown out the sea.

Jayce gasps when Viktor presses closer in a way that provides more contact with his hardness. With the way they're positioned, it could have been a mistake, but then Viktor pulls back and looks at him, pupils blown and lips swollen, and does it again. Jayce arches into it. Let's the pleasure eek into every fiber of him.

Jayce plants a kiss right behind the shell of Viktor's ear, and Viktor nearly melts. Another spot he's sensitive. Another piece of knowledge he'll have nowhere to put after this morning.

Jayce lets out a pathetic little gasp when Viktor's cool fingers make contact with the skin under his tunic, right at his hip. And how is he supposed to let this go when the man's touch is such an unparalleled bliss?

He swallows down the feeling that he'll never be enough for him, because when they pull apart, Viktor looks hypnotized. Rabid. Viktor tugs at the hem of his shirt.

"Off?" He asks the question while kissing along the outline of Jayce's cheek. Jayce feels the breath in his ear.

Jayce shivers and nods.

"Sit up."

He does so. Viktor sits up with him. He sees the way Viktor's eyes linger on his mark. The way his pupils dilate, staring at the place where Jayce will be marked by him forever, long after he's gone. He looks hungry. As if in a trance, Viktor traces his fingers along the outline of the handprint, and Jayce whines. It's so sensitive there.

"Viktor -"

Jayce finds himself tugging at Viktor's tunic. Viktor takes it off in one quick motion. It leaves Jayce breathless. Viktor hasn't had time to put on the support for his back on this morning, so he's bare before him. The arcane markings all over his torso almost glimmer in the light of day. He sees now how they trail down his stomach.

"You are beautiful," Jayce says, because it's so true it hurts. Because there are three other words he wants to say, even more. He plants a kiss on Viktor's collarbone. Tastes the salt on his skin there. When he pulls apart, he can't help but repeat it.

"You are so beautiful, oh gods," Jayce says, his lips brushing against the place where Viktor's shoulder meets his neck as he talks. He hears Viktor's breath hitch. He looks away, as if overwhelmed.

Jayce kisses Viktor on his reddened cheek, the sharp curve of his jaw, the soft jut of his throat. Viktor's breathing quickens. He puts his head back.

"Jayce-" he gasps. And there it is, just his name. Said in a vulnerable, unmistakable desire. It's better than any dream he's had about this - where he's woken up ashamed yet desperate to remember it regardless.

How is he supposed to lose this?

Viktor's hands drift down his lower back

How is their first time supposed to be their last?

He starts kissing Viktor again to drown out the thought. He gets more frantic. He doesn't want the despair to win. Not now. Not when he has him like this.

He's always wanted to see how it would feel to kiss the arcane webbing spread so beautifully along Viktor's torso. To know how it felt. He knows he's sensitive there. He carefully kisses a small stretch of it right under Viktor's collarbone, and the effect is immediate. Viktor makes a noise so unfettered and pleasure-struck that Jayce feels yet another surge of arousal.

But then he kisses Viktor right above his heart. Something about feeling Viktor's heartbeat surging under his lips makes the despair return in spades.

Oh, that beautiful, strong heart - thundering like they're in battle. He kisses him there again.

He feels horribly like he might begin to cry.

Because he's been hiding the truth from himself: Jayce simply cannot fit what he wishes to be the rest of his life into an hour.

So he cannot help it when he leans his head against Viktor's collarbone and, with a pained exhale, says, "Take me with you."

It feels like the words are ripped from him.

Viktor freezes. His hands immediately journey up to cup his face. He pulls Jayce's head back to get a good look at him. He clearly does not like the expression he sees.

"Jayce -"

Viktor cradles Jayce's face in his hands, and the kindness of it makes it hurt so much worse. Jayce simply cannot take it. He lies back down and puts his hands over his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Jayce hisses, fighting the urge to sob like a child. "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

Gentle fingers card through his hair. He feels Viktor start to try to resituate himself. Jayce puts a hand on his back, hoping to encourage Viktor to stay. He does.

"I ruined it. I just... Our first can't be our last."

"I understand. I-"

But Jayce isn't done. Jayce can't stop himself. Not when Viktor's still on top of him. Not when he can feel the warmth of his skin. Jayce keeps his arms around Viktor's back. Viktor relaxes.

"-If you're banished. Please. I- please. I don't know what I'd do - I can't -"

"You've been so sure Caitlyn will not banish me. Do not worry yourself with the hypotheticals."

"But… but you think she will… and I know you won't take me… and I know that even if she brings you back to Piltover, you won't want this to continue. and… I don't understand. Is it… If I've done something wrong, I'll fix it."

"You haven't-"

He feels himself fall apart further. Somehow, saying the words out loud crystallizes them. And now everything is spilling from him like blood from a stab wound.

"I could be so good to you," Jayce says. His voice cracks. His eyes brim with tears.

"Oh, Jayce…"

His heart is racing. He feels ill. He feels like he's fighting for his life. Feels his mind fray as the desperation kicks in.

"I promise I'd listen. I can be your guide. And I'll always help you make your medicines if you want it. And I could be of use. And I-I can cook. And I can fight. I can craft and sew." Jayce feels his voice waver and rise in pitch. "And - and I -please."

Viktor looks as devastated as Jayce feels.

"I… Jayce, I can't… I'll only hurt you."

But Jayce cannot fathom hurting more than this.

"If you don't want to hurt me, you shouldn't leave me behind."

Viktor's eyes go wide. The room goes cold again. He clutches Jayce's cheek.

"I'm so sorry," Viktor whispers. It is all the response Jayce needs to know that his groveling hasn't worked.

Jayce has always felt broken. He's always felt as if everyone around him has received some sort of guide on how to be a person, and he never received it. Part of the reason he tries so hard is because he knows, with a deep shame, that he's always been odd. Viktor is the first person who has ever truly seen him.

He came into Jayce's deluded, miserable little life and turned it into something he felt might be worth living. Something softer. Kinder. More honest. Redemptive and inventive. He took the nightmares away and gave him magic in their stead.

Viktor is also odd. He's brilliant beyond measure. He has a razor-sharp wit and a velvet-soft kindness. He's infuriatingly private and stubborn to a fault. He loves animals and hates the heat. When he laughs, his lips curl upward to reveal the little gap in his front teeth. He blushes easily, which just makes him blush harder. He says he has his mother's eyes and his father's nose. He has a smile that could topple cities. He never yells. He loves strawberries. He knows loneliness all too well, and he knows affection all too little.

He has a brilliant mind and a massive heart and magic in his veins, and he was gifted none of these things. He fought and clawed for all of it. He built himself up. Made himself who he is, every last extraordinary part of him.

Jayce is an academic at heart - a scientist. He knows that absolute certainties are very rare and often arrogant to proclaim. But he knows, with absolute certainty, that he could never love anyone more.

So, with Viktor's hushed apology, Jayce can no longer contain himself. He wraps his arms around Viktor as if they can stay like that forever, buries his head in Viktor's shoulder, and breaks into sobs.

And he feels so raw. So pathetic and weak and out of control. Every second that passes them by adds a new weight to his chest.

Viktor stiffens, then runs a hand up and down his back. He tries to comfort him with awkward little lies. He tells him he'll be alright. That he'll find someone better. That he'll recover. He tilts Jayce's head up and kisses the tears from his cheeks, which just summons more.

Despite Jayce's outburst, Viktor stays lying in his arms. So Jayce holds him there and tries to memorize his shape—the volume of him.

As he begins to tire, Jayce holds the other man's hand. Viktor grips it back and stops with the words of attempted comfort. There are none to give. They shift on the bed so Jayce can lie on his side and rest his head on Viktor's chest. Viktor plants doting kisses on the crown of his head. Jayce learns how to run his hands along Viktor's bare torso without agitating the sensitive, magic-kissed skin.

They just lie there, in the morning sun, while Jayce listens to Viktor's heart and wishes he were strong enough to make love to him. Grown enough not to cry. Good enough to keep.

The urge to covet is still strong. Jayce absentmindedly brings Viktor's hand to his lips. Kisses each of his knuckles.

It's an odd, absentminded gesture. But Jayce feels Viktor's jaw tremble as if the man is holding back something fierce. He worries he's gone too far. He lets go of Viktor's hand, only for Viktor to reach for it in turn.

With each and every breath, Jayce hopes Viktor will be allowed home. Even though he knows these days, on this Island, would likely fracture them. He knows there would be no reaching Viktor through the arcana if exiled. Now that Viktor knows Jayce can get in, he'll do everything he can to keep Jayce out. He's ashamed of it. They will not meet there. 

It feels like time runs from them.

Jayce listens to the sounds of Viktor's breathing. The waves crashing on the shore, and let himself live out what he knows, despite the pain, will be the best morning of his life. At least he got to rest in Viktor's arms like this. At least he got to taste his skin and know what his smile feels like against the shell of his ear.

After what feels like no time at all, Viktor eventually speaks.

"Jayce... one of us should really go look."

Jayce instinctively pulls him in tighter before remembering himself and, with great effort, lets the other man go. He cannot bring himself to speak. As Viktor goes to the windowsill, Jayce stares at his back, studies how the arcane webbing thickens by his spine.

Viktor looks outward for a good while. Jayce sees the way he grasps his crutch with white knuckles.

"… we need to dress," he says. Jayce nods.

The world outside of this room is a cruel mystery. They both know that. Viktor lingers at the window. Jayce joins him. The boat is close. Very close. He can see the kiramman crest on the side.

He pulls his love into one final kiss. He pulls him close one final time. Kisses his forehead. His cheekbones. His moles. Finally, his lips. Viktor sighs into it. He runs a soothing hand along Jayce's arm.

"Thank you," Jayce says when they pull apart. Viktor looks at him like he's said something cruel.

"There is nothing to thank me for."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce makes his way down to the beach with a sort of resigned panic he'd get before combat in his training years. He finds Viktor leaning against the old gatehouse, watching the boat come in. His expression is hard to read, but he won't look at Jayce. He leans right next to Viktor, so they just so slightly touch. They watch the gulls fly by and wait for the boat to dock.

As the boat nears, Jayce notices how different Cait looks. She has her hair up like she's done it herself. She wears high-wasted dark pants and loose linen. She looks like a crew member.

Viktor squeezes his shoulder and approaches the boat. Jayce follows, feeling like he's being walked to the gallows. Caitlyn leaves the boat and walks on the dock, hesitating for a moment when she hears the noise it makes. Jayce frowns when he notices she has a split lip.

"I hope this stay has treated you well," she says, which is a deeply odd thing to say about a banishment you imposed. She seems to realize this. She coughs and turns to Viktor. Jayce feels faint.

"I would like to talk to you, Viktor. Alone."

Jayce didn't expect this. His heart starts to race.

"What? Why. No. Absolutely not." Jayce says.

Viktor glares at him. Jayce swallows.

"Alright," Viktor says. Because he apparently wants Jayce to faint on this beach. Caitlyn gives him a nod.

"I merely have questions, Jayce," she says.

"Can you get rid of your weapons, at least?"

Caitlyn and Viktor both roll their eyes. She drops her sword into the sand with an indignant drama to it. She then pulls a dagger from a hidden sheath in her belt.

"Are you happy?" she sneers.

"Can you stay in sight?"

"I'm not. Going to. Kill him," Caitlyn huffs, indignant. "Gods, but fine. If it will stop your pestering."

Jayce knows there's no stopping either of them. He knows he has no other choice but to watch them walk along the shoreline. To his absolute shock, he notices Caitlyn take off her shoes. She rolls up her pants and lets some of the waves wash over her feet.

He can only surmise so much from their gestures. A couple of crew members come for his and Viktor's belongings. Jayce sits on the dock. He refuses the offers to come aboard.

He is then greeted by one of his fits of terror, where his chest grows tight, his heart seems to stop, and his breath leaves him. His palms sweat under the visceral helplessness. He feels trapped in his own clothes. His own skin. Memories come flooding back to him. Terrible ones - nightmares and realities

Viktor in the knight's grasp. Throat slit on the beach

Blood gushing from the Boy's throat

The crunching of a snapped neck. The smell of mould in the dungeons.

He has to grip himself and let it all course through him. He tries his best to hide it, but he catches some crew members staring. By the time he's better, Viktor and Caitlyn still aren't done.

Caitlyn and Viktor continue to talk on the far edge of the beach for what seems like an hour at least. There's a moment where Caitlyn stands and starts pacing, as if thinking, then sits back down. Jayce's fingernails dig little crescents into his palms.

It goes on. And on. And on. And on.

There's a terrible moment where Caitlyn clearly starts yelling at Viktor. He can tell in the way she gestures wildly. In the way Viktor goes stiff and still. When her yelling ends, she practically throws herself back down. Viktor leans closer to her as if to comfort her, and then the two of them stand. Jayce rushes up to them as fast as he can.

"What's…" Jayce says. "What is… what's -"

"Viktor can stay," Caitlyn sighs.

And he can breathe again. He lets out a little, relieved laugh.

Something terrible that's just settled in him breaks loose. Jayce's hands tremble. Viktor gives him a soft, sad smile, and Jayce rushes at him, pulling Viktor into his arms.

"I told you," Jayce says, though his voice is trembling, so it loses quite a bit of power. Viktor hugs him back with his free hand. But it's tentative. "I told you."

Jayce realizes too late that he's holding on for too long. He coughs and rips himself away. Viktor won't meet his eye. It's not enough to kill his elation, but it is enough to remind him of the difficulties to come.

Jayce hugs Caitlyn next, and she looks like she's expecting it. She lets out a dramatic sigh, clearly meant for show, and hugs him back.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"There are conditions," Caitlyn says. "I will have a guard on him at all times. I've told a select amount of trusted Knights that I need Viktor guarded as he has an old patient threatening his life. They have strict orders not to let Viktor out of their sight, lest he be in his bedchambers."

"But…" their studies… Viktor's magic.

"I have agreed to it, Jayce," Viktor says. He sounds… distant. Tired. Resigned.

As they board the boat, Jayce reaches out a hand to help Viktor with a step. He does not take it. Viktor then goes to the edge of the deck, pulls what appears to be some sort of letter out of his pocket, and throws it into the ocean, drowning its contents. He leans against the railing and watches it sink before heading downstairs.

Jayce can only assume it would have been for him.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

To the Former High Representative of the Guilded Lanes,

I am writing with my utmost gratitude, having heard of your decision to leave your post in opposition to the new Zaunite Committee. I have received word of your speech decrying the committee's violence against those in the Allied Piltover, and strongly appreciate your forceful condemnation of those trying to lay siege upon our new stronghold. You are wise far beyond your young years.

It seems we have a common foe, and I believe it would be beneficial for us to meet. I am sure this comes as a great surprise, and you must have plenty of questions. I also understand, given your abilities, that you may be incredibly displeased to hear from me. I want to assure you that the Allied Regions have formed as a way to regulate magic and pave the way to equality for all, not to eradicate it.

In order to defend ourselves from Zaun's Violence, Piltover needs an allied mage to help provide us with security measures. We can offer you plenty in return. I am sure it is not easy living in exile. We would happily welcome you into our kingdom with a full magic license should you find our terms suitable.

I'd like to invite you to visit our family in Piltover on Spring 10. I have attached a signed slip, which grants you legal mage status within our walls. We sincerely hope to hear from you.

- Cassian Kiramman, Sovereign of Allied Piltover

"Sovereign" Kiramman

It is with great disrespect and disdain that I refuse your invitation. Furthermore, your insistence on calling yourself a sovereign over a representative has told me everything I need to know about your supposed "non-empire." You and your entire family are an absolute affront to the values of this commonwealth, and I want nothing to do with you or your spoiled, aimless spawn.

My departure from the New Zaunite Committee was not a defense of you, nor meant as a measure of sympathy in any regard. I will decry violence and destruction in any of its forms, and as much as I despise your regime, the new Zaunite Committee seems to have a lack of regard for your citizens, who are not responsible for your vile acts of hatred and violence.

You, "good sir," are a tapeworm on society and a stain on our history.

You villainize mages, yet want to use me as a puppet of defense. Should you have done a shred of research on me or my character, you would understand that I am far from the imbecile you have taken me for. I'm frankly shocked you sent your letter via Wybyrd to find me. Are you not aware that they locate their targets through the arcana?

Should you write me again, I will not respond with such kindness.

Should you try to find me, know it will not end well.

- Cyr of the Guilded Lanes, Former High Representative

- From a Selection of Letters Found in the Royal Archive

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

While the crew readies the sails and prepares to depart, Jayce watches as Caitlyn leans over the rail, looking at her ancestor's dilapidated old house.

"What happened there?" Jayce points to Caitlyn's split lip.

Cait sighs.

"Mother found out about the archive. She apparently has members of her guard pay weekly visits. I managed to keep you out of it. She still loves you. I said I knocked you unconscious and went out on my own."

"Did you get the horses retrieved?"

"Yes. Thankfully before mother found out."

"So the lip? Queen Cassandra didn't-"

"No. Gods, no. She… she sent members of her guard into my chambers while I was supposed to be in a meeting. They were clearly sent to search for anything I could have taken. Luckily, I had already buried everything in the dungeons by the arsenal. I demanded they leave, but they were on the Queen's orders, so they could not. So I hit one of them when he started rifling through my delicates. He hit me back."

"What?! Who?!"

"Enris. It does not matter. You should see the state I put him in. I threw him through a glass table… that ugly one I didn't really like anyway."

"Regardless, mother is frantic to figure out what I've learned. If I've taken anything. You, Viktor, and I need to discuss and look over what we all took."

Jayce frowns. He saw Viktor shoving documents into his bag, but he never saw them.

"Viktor was there for his research into the Plague, yes? What did he find?"

"I don't know."

"He didn't tell you?"

Jayce shakes his head.

"Well, ask him then. What did you find?"

"Six separate tomes from the Chaos age, all about magic. All with various degrees of quality, but they're overall intact. Some stains here and there. Some pages were ripped out. They're printed, somehow, so they didn't take the best care of them."

They start to set sail. Jayce feels a pang watching the manor get smaller in the distance. He keeps trying not to think of this morning, but the memories of it, both good and bad, keep seeping through.

"I took two large texts. Historical accounts that I am still trying to grapple with. And, more importantly, these." Caitlyn pulls out a stack of letters from her satchel, their parchment worn with age.

"When we were in the archive, the Keepers asked me a series of questions. They asked me what I was here for. I said answers. Any answers. According to them, I'm the first of my lineage to come into the archive to find something, not to hide it. With that in mind, the keeper gave me these. And then said the strangest thing. That the truth was in the tomb."

"That's why you opened it like a madman?" Jayce asks.

"I'm sorry for not realizing opening a tomb would somehow lead to the collapse of the entire structure! Truly. How dare I? Regardless… these letters. Most of them are between King Cassian, Coralie… and Cyr."

Jayce blinks. King Cassian was the first Kiramman to rule following Cyr's death and Coralie's self-sacrifice. Caitlyn looks out at the sea.

"He was…. by many accounts, Jayce, in the other tomes I received and in his correspondence… a terrible man. Additionally…" Caitlyn leans over the railing. Closes her eyes. "His sister was a mage. She died in their early twenties."

It hits Jayce in two stages. One, the shock that this man, who by all accounts hated mages, could be so closely related to one. Two, that -

"Magic is in your blood."

Caitlyn blinks. She can't look at him. She grips the railing so hard that her knuckles turn white.

"Not anymore. He made any of his children who could conceive ingest this… this rare plant... Ironvine. It rid them of magic. Rid it from the bloodline completely."

Jayce feels his skin prickle. He's never heard of it, but he knows that if it still exists, Viktor cannot know of it.

The wind starts to pick up, and Caitlyn closes up her satchel.

"And then there's the matter of Coralie and Cyr. For supposed sworn enemies, all I see in the letters between the two is… love. In every page."

Jayce frowns. Piltover's histories claim Coralie was the original dispeller of mages. That she sacrificed herself to rid the realm of the terror of Cyr, and in doing so, dispelled a magic so great that it gave the surviving Kiramman family the unique proclivity for mage slaying - an antimagic in their very blood.

"They did this… bonding ritual—this mark."

Jayce has to stop himself from reaching for his own.

"In turn, she acquired a little bit of his magic for herself."

"She was a mage?!"

"That's not how she described it. She could access his well of magic. Not her own. I do not know how it works. They used many terms I simply could not understand. They had some sort of separation after the murder of Coralie's brothers. The last letter in this stack was from Cassian to Cyr, saying Coralie was dead."

Jayce frowns. It makes no sense. The painting clearly depicts Coralie present during Cyr's terror, wielding her legendary sun sword against him.

"It's all… It's all a lie, Jayce! I just… I don't understand why," she takes a moment to calm herself. Jayce puts a hand on her shoulder. "In one of these letters, Cyr provided Coralie with a map to his home. It isn't too far from the archive. I think we should go. Perhaps we will find something."

"Alright," Jayce says, feeling numb. Caitlyn's jaw is clenched. He can tell she's struggling with this immensely.

"How are you?"

"How do you think? Jayce, I've barely scratched the surface of this, and my mother seems to know everything. I confronted her about what I found, and she brushed it off as a 'necessary story' to keep 'calm in the kingdom."

Her voice wavers. She looks hollowed out. Jayce imagines she feels stripped of purpose. He knows her well enough to know she won't want to talk about it yet, so he tries to lighten the conversation, even just for a moment.

"I am sorry I lied to you as well," Jayce says. "That I kept Viktor's… magic from you."

Caitlyn turns around and looks at him.

"No, you aren't."

Jayce doesn't refute it. Then, Caitlyn surprises him.

"I wouldn't have told me either."

"What did you two discuss? On the beach?"

"The nature of his abilities. Some personal information I will not divulge."

"And he convinced you to let him stay?"

She fiddles with her hands. Her voice changes. It immediately makes Jayce tense.

"I should… whatever is going on between you two is none of my business. You're clearly obsessed with him. But I think you should know…. He requested that I banish him. On the beach."

The information lands like a punch to the stomach. He grips the railing so tightly that his hands hurt.

"…I see." Jayce swallows.

"He said it would spare you pain. I made an excuse about not wanting to let a mage loose without supervision."

Jayce has always been told he is too intense. That feels too much. He's felt that, too. Like he always will give or feel more than can ever be returned to him, because what he gives is an ugly and unreasonable amount. Pathetic and needy in nature. He's a smotherer.

"Jayce…?"

"I'm alright."

The silence that follows makes it clear Caitlyn does not believe him. Before she can pry any further, a crew member approaches.

"Your Highness, Sir Talis, we advise you to get downstairs as soon as you can. A storm is forming up ahead, and we are expecting rough waters."

Jayce almost laughs at the timing. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The downstairs parlour is luxurious and much larger than the tiny cabin they sailed in on, but still small nonetheless. There's a velvet settee and an armchair for seating. Jayce barely looks at Viktor when he sees him. The other man is curled up on the settee.

Caitlyn heads to a small table that has some water and bread and pours herself some water. Jayce takes the opportunity to sit himself on the armchair instead of the open spot next to Viktor. He sees Viktor shift out of the corner of his eye.

When Caitlyn turns around, she frowns but takes her place next to Viktor. There's a long, pointed silence.

When Viktor catches Jayce's eye, Jayce can tell he's confused. A small, petty part of himself is happy about that. There's a deep silence. Jayce stews in it, feeling his anger and hurt in his teeth. Caitlyn coughs.

"Was… it was quite rainy in Piltover. I don't know if the two of you were spared from it."

"We weren't," Viktor says. As if on cue, they hear the unmistakable sound of rain above. "Ah, as if you've summoned it yourself."

Jayce can't even stand the sound of his voice. It hurts too much. He feels like he might burst.

"I have… always quite liked the rain," Cait says.

"So have I, " Viktor says. He sounds nervous, and a sick sense of satisfaction comes over Jayce again. Viktor's boiling alive in his own small talk. "Though I think Jayce was quite ready to get some sun. Right, Jayce?"

Jayce glares.

"Right," he knows he sounds angry.

Viktor's eyes widen. Caitlyn takes a huge sip of her water, giving him a look as if begging him to calm down.

The sound of rain somehow emphasizes the silence between them. Caitlyn's leg starts bouncing. Jayce can feel it shake the floor. The tide starts to pick up—the boat rocks and creaks with it.

"Lest has been taking care of both your cat and your plants in your stead," Caitlyn says to Viktor. "I'm sure it will be nice to be reunited with her."

"Not my cat," Viktor smirks, causing Jayce's blood to boil, "But yes, I suppose it will be nice."

"Will it?" Jayce finally snaps. Caitlyn puts a hand to her forehead. Viktor flinches. "Or would you rather be in the Outer Nord by now?"

Viktor looks at Caitlyn, then back at Jayce. It seems to dawn on him that Caitlyn has told him.

"I'm... going upstairs," Caitlyn says.

"But the rain-"

She's already rushing out of the room.

"I'll brave it!"

She opens the door to the sound of raging winds, then slams it shut. Viktor looks ill.

"Jayce…"

"What was the plan? Have me just for a morning, then just leave, not only without a fight but with insistence?" Jayce hates how pathetic he sounds.

"Jayce, of course not," Viktor says it with barely hidden feeling, which is at least a start. Jayce clenches his jaw. He's afraid of anything he might say next, so he stays silent. Viktor continues. "Even without my magic, I would only hurt you in the end. This is for your own good."

"For my own good? If this is about my safety and my feelings, shouldn't I get a say? I am a High Knight of the Royal Guard, by the gods! I'm not a child, Viktor!"

Viktor blinks. His fists are clenched in his lap, yet he's curled in on himself, tense and defensive.

"It was not my intention to treat you as if you cannot make decisions for yourself. By all means, I know how horrible that can feel. However, the fact that you still have enough pride in your Knighthood is enough for me to know that we could never be, Jayce, regardless of my own personal concerns about your safety. We are too far apart. It would not end well."

Jayce swallows. He didn't mean to say it with pride, just to emphasize that he is capable.

"- And perhaps I'd feel more comfortable letting you be a part of this decision should you have any regard for your own life, but you do not. The reason we even met is because you tried to sacrifice yourself in a -"

"-I was obeying my oath!"

"- Exactly."

"Would you stop blaming all of this on the damned Knighthood? We both know I broke the damn Oath the moment I swore it!"

Viktor goes statue still. Jayce sucks in a breath. He did not mean to say that. It's a truth he's barely accepted, let alone wanted to put words to. Let alone like this. Viktor's expression goes carefully blank. Jayce does not miss the way Viktor's fingers clench or the way his jaw twitches.

Crown over covetry.

The boat rocks, wood creaking and groaning against the waves.

It's always been covetry. It's always been Viktor. Over anyone. Over anything. Jayce would do unspeakable things if it meant Viktor simply got to live in peace.

"Go into my travelling bag," Viktor says.

"Pardon?"

"Go into my travelling bag, under the table there. Inside, there will be a little wooden box. You will find documents. Some letters. Read them."

Jayce frowns. He's not happy with the game of it all, but having a task will at least distract him from the magnitude of all of this. The rocking of the boat makes traversing the length of the cabin perilous. He leans against the table and rifles through Viktor's bag. He finds the box and opens it. It's full of documents.

"This is what I got at the archive, and some of my own research. It's why I insisted on joining you. This has been part of my work. Part of the reason I've been in Piltover, and the reason I've excluded you from my Plague Research." Jayce swallows.

The documents are from around thirty years ago. Diagrams of the mines next to diagrams of itermene ores. Drawn out theories about how the mist turns to fog. Diagrams of rotting lungs and stomachs. Some of them have been drawn by Viktor himself with theories scrawled in the margins. Some of them, the ones he clearly pulled from the archive, were written by academy scholars.

He puts a hand over his mouth. He might be sick.

"I was never looking for a cure. With the way the plague erodes the lungs, it's impossible by the third stage unless by a magic that I certainly could never wield properly. What I was looking for was evidence," Viktor says. And then he says what Jayce has already surmised from a single glance, "The mist, and therefore the plague, is not some product of some supposed mage's curse, but is instead released by freshly mined itermene."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jayce asks.

"Because my plan was to find a way to bring this information to the Firelights."

The sentence hits him like a maul. Jayce is immediately back in his childhood living room.

Jayce, honey, sit down. I have something I need to tell you.

Blood on his hands and blood on the streets and blood on the bridge and in the water and on his blade and -

"Jayce…"

"How could you?"Jayce feels split in two.

"Look what the crown has done, Jayce!"

"But the firelights?! Viktor, they're violent!"

Viktor goes quiet. He stares out the window. Jayce realizes, with a new wave of anger, that he doesn't plan to respond to this.

"Well?! Can you at least explain yourself?"

Waves slam against the window in a way that feels unnatural, and Jayce sees something in Viktor, a new layer to him.

Rage.

"I couldn't. You are too far removed from reality to comprehend any of it."

"I think you don't want to give me the chance," Jayce snaps. "I think you like it this way. You like keeping me at odds with you."

Viktor continues to remain silent. It's all the confirmation he needs. The temperature in the room plummets.

Jayce walks up to him and tries to hand him the box of documents.

"Here. Do what you will. Clearly, you do not care about my input."

Viktor stares at it, then up at Jayce, and takes it. He won't meet Jayce's eye. He's fighting to act nonchalant. Horribly, it makes Jayce want to poke him more until he finally gives Jayce something. Viktor wants Jayce to be villainous because it would make this all easier somehow. But he won't. He simply can't be.

He doesn't know what to do. He feels he can be nothing at all until he can find a place to put the feeling of being betrayed without so much as an explanation. Until he can come to terms with the rot within his kingdom. The rot within everything, including the connection between them, fraying at the edges before they've even docked on Piltover's shores.

"The rain-"

"I'll brave it."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When they approach Piltover, and Jayce can clearly see the shape of the itermene drenched city coming into view, he cannot feel farther from home. He aches for the island. Their bed. Viktor's lips and his smile and his hands. That sliver of a moment where everything was simple.

Jayce and Viktor do not share another word, not even in the carriage. He refuses to feel guilty. This was Viktor's series of betrayals.

By the time they are back at the palace, all Jayce wants to do is get some rest.

As some palace staff gather their belongings, Jayce tells them to take the blanket Viktor conjured to Viktor's chambers. He does not want the reminder.

He returns to the guard's wing of the palace feeling exhausted and lost. The sun is just starting to set. The bronze statue in the center of the Guard's plaza glistens under the golden light. A woman with a sword pointed at the sky. Allegedly, Piltover's first-ever high commander hired under Cassian. He no longer feels inspired when he looks at her; he is just worried about what she probably did in her time.

He makes his way to the door to his chambers and opens it while rubbing at his eyes.

For a moment, he believes he has begun to have waking visions again - that he's seeing a figure in the shadows that is not truly there.

Because what lies in front of him is horrific.

But it's real.

The smell tells him so.

Hung from his ceiling like a pig at a slaughterhouse is Veris. There's a dagger stuck through each eye, his mouth frozen and agape in an endless scream. Jayce notes the daggers have green gems embedded in their hilts - a signature of the firelights.

Jayce can barely stand under the weight of the horror that floods through him. He can barely think. Barely breathe. He rushes into the courtyard and rings one of the many emergency bells located around the palace to summon the guard.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

There's simply no getting accustomed to death, especially not of someone you once knew, especially not in a circumstance like this.

Marcus's special guard, responsible for cases such as this, floods into Jayce's chambers to investigate. The room has been absolutely ransacked. His clothes are everywhere, his bedding flipped over, his mattress torn.

Marcus, meanwhile, takes Jayce into his living quarters, located on the far end of the courtyard. Being the high commander, Marcus's quarters are extravagant. Multiple parlours and sitting areas, three separate levels, enough bedrooms for a large family, though it is just he and his young daughter.

Marcus makes a point of leading Jayce, already exhausted, up his two flights of stairs. It's as if he wants to test Jayce's leg. Find weaknesses. Remind him of his shortcomings. They settle in his office. A painting of a woman Jayce presumes is his deceased wife hangs behind his desk.

Jayce has to admit he agreed to meet with Veris in secret almost as soon as the questioning starts. Marcus raises a judgmental brow.

"You realize that this was incredibly ill-advised? Something so suspicious should have been reported to me immediately."

"I was worried if I did, he wouldn't talk. I was trying to get information that could have been pertinent to the crown."

"Regardless, you did not trust the judgment of your High Commander. You put yourself, and potentially others, at risk with your carelessness."

"Did you tell anyone else of this meeting?"

Jayce swallows. He did. Lest.

"No. I swore to him I would not."

Marcus sneers at him.

"Really? Not even your little…" Marcus searches for the word as Jayce seethes.

"I told Viktor nothing. And he's not anybody's little anything."

Marcus rolls his eyes. Jayce gets a sudden, violent urge to scratch them.

The door behind them bursts open. Jayce nearly leaps from his seat. It's just Marcus's daughter. Marcus immediately softens. It's as if he becomes a different person entirely.

"Hello, sweetheart. What do you have there?"

She has a toy doll and a tray full of tiny plastic teacups. She gestures to the doll.

"Luna wanted to be a part of the meeting. She wants to learn how to be a knight, like you," she gestures to Jayce and frowns. "You look sad."

"I'm not sad," Jayce says. "Being a knight is just busy work."

She blinks at Jayce in awe, as if he's a hero figure. He's used to this from children, but it's starting to make his stomach churn.

"Darling," Marcus says, "We can play later, yes? I'm in a very important meeting with Sir. Talis here. What have I told you?"

"… I'm not old enough to join," she says sadly. She walks up to where Marcus sits behind the desk. "But Luna is! She'll be really good!"

"Okay. Okay. She can stay."

His daughter beams. She puts Luna on Marcus's desk. She puts a teacup in Luna's hand, then hands one to Marcus, then hands one to Jayce on her way out.

"Bye, Papa!"

"I will see you soon, darling."

She closes the door. Marcus immediately shifts. He takes the doll off the desk and shoves it in a drawer.

"Clearly, the body was left in your room as a warning. You truly have no idea what Veris was going to tell you?"

"None. He was just a friend of my fathers. I have not seen him since I was a child."

"From what I recall, your father's attackers worked for Silco?"

Jayce swallows. Witnesses to the attack confirmed it. Neither of them was able to escape. His mother decided Jayce was too young to go to their executions.

"Yes."

The stress of it all hits Jayce very quickly.

A funeral pyre.

His mother on her knees.

The smell of smoke and ash.

"Talis. Focus. I have plenty more questions for you."

Marcus spends a long time forcing Jayce to go into detail about his relationship with his father. He has no information that will help, but it seems Marcus wants to break him down anyway.

Finally, Marcus closes his book of notes, sets down his quill, and stares at him.

"Nobody else will tell you this," Marcus says, "So I will."

Marcus stands up and leans against his desk so he can look down at Jayce. Jayce grits his teeth.

"You think you are special because of your relationship to the Kirammans, because of the attention you have received. And it has made you weak. Useless on the battlefield. Now even more so. The only reason you are ranked as highly as you are is because the Kirammans like you. Everybody knows this."

Jayce swallows, shame overtaking him. Marcus leans down. Gets in his face.

"But you are no less of a pawn than any of the rest of us. We are all supposed to be a unified part of a bigger picture. Yet you, with your Golden Knight persona, and your obsession with rank, and your need to be the big hero, have an incredibly dangerous habit of acting on your own accord."

Jayce looks at his hands. He has never been good at getting yelled at. He never wants to anger anybody, not even Marcus. He feels humiliated.

"You are not a friend to them. You are not a prince. You are not a hero. You are a weapon, and you need to stop acting like a brat and wield yourself accordingly. You took the same oath as the rest of us. You have been put in this realm to serve your Kingdom. Not to serve yourself, and certainly not to get on your knees for some waif of a sump rat who-"

Jayce is out of his chair with his fist clenched and raised before Marcus can finish the sentence, raw fury coursing through him. Marcus doesn't back up; he just lets Jayce stand there.

"Are you going to hit me, Talis? Do you want to see how that ends?"

Jayce wants to so badly. He's never wanted for blood like this. He wants to make this man hurt. Oddly, Jayce feels like this is what Marcus wants. Whether it's to give him a good enough excuse to go over Caitlyn's head and get him fired, or if he really just wants an excuse to hit Jayce back, he does not know. He lowers his fist.

"There you go," he says. "Get a grip on yourself. It's pathetic."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Caitlyn, who immediately rushes over to help investigate when she hears of the body, invites Jayce to stay on a cot in her chambers while his room is investigated.

Jayce cannot look inside his own room. With a bit of embarrassment, he asks the staff to wash and then bring him the blanket his mother made for him, the one that he used in the infirmary. He needs some semblance of comfort.

Caitlyn sends Jayce up to her chambers first, and Jayce happily collapses on her settee. His head aches and he feels like he's been hit by a maul. He feels outside of his body. He finds himself staring at a small stain on Caitlyn's carpet for an unknown amount of time, half in a trance.

Caitlyn bursts in sometime later.

"Marcus is infuriating! He does not want me on the investigation at all! He doesn't even want me looking at the body. Incredibly suspicious, yes?"

Jayce barely says anything. He just groans and sits up. Caitlyn sighs when she sees him. She walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, stiff but trying to be comforting.

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

"Caitlyn, with respect, I think if I have another serious conversation today, I might fling myself from your window."

"I don't find that kind of talk amusing, Jayce."

"My apologies."

Caitlyn lets him rest for a few more moments. She opens her windows. Cool air blows in from outside—distant sounds of horses and carriages below.

"Jayce?"

"Mmm?"

"Would you like to get spectacularly, unfathomably drunk?"

"Gods, Yes."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Cyr,

I would not write you again should it not be urgent. My daughter has gone missing. I fear she went to find you. I assure you, she means no harm, and this was not at my behest. I understand you do not believe me a man of honor, but I am not devoid of love. I beg of you to respond. You will bring no harm to her should you know what's right. She is my youngest. She is eager to please and naive to the ways of the world. She knows not what she does.

Should I not hear from you within the coming days, I will have no choice but to send my men. This is not meant as an attack on you, but as a search for her.

- Cassian Kiramman, So

Father,

Do not send men here!! I am perfectly fine!! I arrived at Cyr's home in the mountains just yesterday. He has it obscured by magic. It is very difficult to find. You and your men would have no luck finding him here, even with all the wybyrds and tracker wolves at your disposal.

He's a brilliant mage and would be incredibly useful for us. He was kind enough to let me out of the cold, despite his disdain for our family. He seemed hesitant to speak with me, yet I truly do think I can convince him to help us.

Please refrain from sending any more humiliating letters on my behalf. By the gods, get a grip!

- Coralie

From an Assorted Collection of Letters Found Near Cyr's Tomb

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Caitlyn has the palace staff bring them a drink called Phoenix Feathers.It is known for its strength. It's incredibly popular in Lower Piltover. Jayce doubts she's ever had any. He almost chokes at the taste.

"Why this one?" Jayce asks, legs propped up on her settee.

"Because it's the strongest," Caitlyn says, staring out her window.

Jayce takes another large gulp. His face starts to warm. His leftover nerves begin to fade.

"I take it it did not go well with you and Viktor on the boat."

Jayce can't exactly tell her he implied they would never be together, proceeded to inform him of an absolutely horrific conspiracy carried out by the crown, then said he was going to take that information to a violent insurgent group. She would likely not take that information well.

"… it went very poorly," is the understatement he settles on.

The Phoenix Feathers is already affecting him. Caitlyn takes a drink.

"We kissed this morning. When we saw you were approaching."

It was so overwhelmingly perfect and pleasurable that the memory of it almost feels falsified.

Caitlyn frowns.

"…. is that not something you typically do?"

"It was our first."

"Really? You two seem so… I don't know… entwined?" She swallows and looks at her glass. "Are you already a little…? Because this is quite strong."

Jayce nods. His cheeks are flushed, and his troubles seem farther, and he feels both miserable and giddy at the same time. If this is how he feels already, this will be quite the night.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Father,

I fear I must confess I have been lying to you. My claims that Cyr is considering working with Piltover are mere falsehoods.

If anything, it is I who have reconsidered my stance. I have become further convinced that the path we are on is a dangerous one. Over the past 40 days, I have seen Cyr's magic up close. He is brilliant, peaceful, and could not be a harm to others if he tried.

Cyr grew up in a much worse situation than I. His mother died in childbirth. His father had nothing for him but physical hits. He was deprived of love and stability. All he learned, he had to learn on his own.

He has every reason to be violent. And yet, yet, he is deeply kind.

I fear you are not extending the same love you have for your children to the people you rule. I ask you kindly and honestly to cease your campaign.

Cyr has offered me a place to stay. It is lovely here. Removed, yes, but the neighboring woods are teeming with life, and I finally get to see magic up close. I will stay for the remainder of the season. This is not a debate.

With Much Love and Concern,

- Coralie

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

After an hour of trying and failing to play chess, they sneak out of the back of the high quarters through the kitchens like they did when they were younger. They try to pick up old games they used to play to very little success. The night is cold and dark, but the alcohol is warming.

By the time they're halfway done with the bottle, drunkenly stumbling around the gardens and gossiping about Hoskel's rumored affair with a young woman from Ionia, the night starts coming and going in patches. One moment, Caitlyn is admitting to the fact that she only chose the Phoenix Feathers because it was Vi's favorite; the next, Jayce is falling into a bush.

He cuts his face on some branches and immediately gets himself stuck. He flails about like a turtle on its back. Caitlyn has to help him up through fits of laughter.

They then find themselves, somehow, in the archery field, lying on their backs, passing the bottle back and forth. He thinks initially Caitlyn wanted to try and shoot while drunk, which Jayce stopped. The night sky begins to get more and more covered in clouds as they talk about more palace gossip, travel plans, and everything and anything that will help them forget. Everything but the weight of it all.

Jayce wishes he could say he feels better, but he doesn't.

It starts to snow.

Jayce has never liked it, but he's too drunk to mind.

"…. you seem to be doing quite well, with Viktor being a mage," Jayce blurts.

Caitlyn bursts into laughter and sits up.

"Truly?"

Jayce nods.

"I have found out, over the past few days, that my entire life, my entire legacy, is likely nonsense," she says this in a very animated way, with a maniacal gleam in her eye, before her laughter escalates into a breathless, helpless cackle. "Viktor is living proof of the absurdity of it all, isn't he? I mean, imagine the city brought to ruins by Viktor? Sweet Viktor with the odd mannerisms and the strange humor, and the being madly in love with you. It's ridiculous. It's - It's -"

Jayce sits up as her laughter starts to turn into tears.

"What am I supposed to even do? Where do I even start? "

Jayce puts a hand on her shoulder. She puts her hands over her eyes.

"I am incredibly lucky that Jinx deserved what was coming to her, or I'd be feeling even more out of sorts."

Jayce doesn't say anything to that. He just rubs her back.

She wipes at her eyes—coughs as if to clear the emotion from her body.

"Let's go inside. I'm cold."

On their walk back, Jayce slurs out a correction while running his hand along the rungs of one of the garden fences.

"You said he's in love with me. He's not."

"Do you have other modes of conversation at this point? Or is it just Viktor, Viktor, Viktor?"

They keep walking in silence, nearing the back entrance that leads to the kitchens. Jayce takes a swig of the Phoenix Feathers. It's nearing empty.

"Not to enable your obsession," Caitlyn slurs. "But you're wrong. I'd put coin on it. No. I have plenty of that. I'd bet my own hand."

"What would I want with your hand?"

"You get the point, you ass."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Getting back to Caitlyn's chambers is a messy afair. They stumble back in through the kitchens. Caitlyn grabs a whole cake left unattended.

"Who is this supposed to be for?"

"I don't know. Who cares. I'm the prin-cesss."

Jayce finds this incredibly funny. So does Caitlyn. She sticks her finger in the frosting as they head up the stairs. She trips and almost drops the cake.

"No, no, no!"

"I've saved it! I've saved it!" Jayce is fighting back laughter when he rounds the corner and freezes. Viktor is waiting outside Caitlyn's quarters. He's been given a stool and everything. He's probably been here a long while.

Viktor stands up. He seems concerned. Which he doesn't get to be. He doesn't get to feel any type of way after today. And he comes up to Jayce with his annoyingly beautiful face and his stupid hair and his ridiculous eyes.

"Jayce," he says, "How are you?"

"I am….m'incredible," Jayce says, leaning against the wall.

"I heard you discovered a body in your chambers?"

"Right…." he doesn't want to think of that right now. Why would Viktor make him think of that right now? "Why ... why … are you here?"

He sees Viktor's eyes drift to the near-empty bottle of Phoenix Feathers in his hand.

"I… I came as soon as I learned."

"About what?"

"The body? In your chambers."

"…. why?"

Viktor's really doing a good job of making Jayce think about everything he really doesn't want to. He has a cake to eat. Viktor's lips purse in a thin line. He stands up straighter, defensive.

"I was concerned, obviously. It is an alarming thing to hear, no?"

"I don't need you, you know," Jayce says. Looking to Caitlyn for approval. She gives with an encouraging nod. Jayce vaguely registers that the guards on duty, both the two guarding Caitlyn's front door and Viktor's assigned guard, Cara, tonight, are getting every word of this. Cara is a particular problem, as she is courting Gray at the moment, and they both love a good gossip.

Viktor, meanwhile, seems incredibly hurt, which is so damn rich.

"How much of that have you had?" Viktor asks, looking at the bottle in Jayce's hand.

Jayce thinks about kissing him this morning, and his hands feel all tingly, and his chest hurts. But Viktor's a traitor and he's… he -

"That has nothing to do with this. I'd say this sober. You… are a bad… "friend", if you can call whatever this is that. And a traitor. And a liar." Jayce starts counting Viktor's offenses with his fingers. "And you're always making me think about things… I don't want to think about. Which, why? So yeah. I don't need you. I'm not sick. I'm not injured. I'm perfectly fine on my own."

Caitlyn makes a little noise of assent behind him, sticking her finger in the cake. Viktor looks between the two of them. He stares at the floor.

"Perhaps we should talk in the morning."

"What else is there to say? I thought you wanted this over." Jayce says. Bitter. His mouth tastes all bitter. He swipes his finger into the cake to get some frosting.

Viktor's jaw clenches. He looks smaller, somehow. His eyes dart from random spot to random spot. Jayce coughs. Don't feel bad. Don't feel bad. Don't feel bad. Don't feel bad.

He feels terrible.

"I'll umm. I will leave you to your night, then."

"Sure. Come on, Cait."

They eat too much cake and finish the bottle that neither of them has the tolerance to handle a quarter of. When they wake up the next morning, the illusion of the alcohol has faded. They're back in the thick of this mess. The lie-ridden lives they lead. The fading illusion of it all.

Jayce watches Cait apply some itermene cream under her eyes. He can't say anything about the mining causing the mist to her, not when Viktor might take it to the firelights. No matter how much he disagrees with him, he will not put Viktor at any sort of risk.

So he just watches with a gnawing pit in his stomach.

When one of the palace staff comes in with two tonics for headache and nausea, whipped up for them by the royal apothecary, Cait desperately chokes one down. Everything he said to Viktor last night in front of people comes rushing back to him, and he feels so ashamed that he wants to melt into the floor.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Coralie,

I hope your return to Piltover has been successful. I have charmed this letter so only you can see its contents. Hopefully, that will put you at ease as you read it. I understand your duty to your Father is not simple, and my words before you departed were unkind. I know you two are not the same.

My irrational and unkind behavior came from two separate places.

First, I worry for you. Your optimism and your forgiving nature are ripe to be exploited by your Father and Sister's political savvy. Please do not take offense. You are the smartest person I know. I just worry you are letting your love for your family cloud your judgment. You believe love will be enough to make the madness stop. You believe you can change them from within the palace walls. I fear that you will get hurt if you try. I think they know this is madness. They simply do not care.

He has been writing you so frequently because he needs you. You would be a great successor to his new empire should something happen to your sister. I am not saying he has no love for you, but you are a tool for him, regardless. You deserve so much better than to be loved under certain conditions.

Second, I have grown to care for you. It has been a long time since I have had to express myself beyond politics. When you told me you were going back to Piltover to convince your father to end his expansion, I was not only worried for you, but I felt a great loss. I could tell myself that after months of exile, any company would suffice. That would be a lie.

I miss you already. This house is so quiet without your laughter, and my magic feels dull and uninspired without your energy. It's been days since I've seen you, and I feel listless.

I am sorry if these words are unwelcome. Whether or not you feel the same, you will always be welcome back in my little home. In fact, you'll always be welcome wherever I am. Please stay safe.

- Yours,

Cyr

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Once Jayce feelsl ike he can stand without vomiting, he goes to the forge. He's always loved forging away his frustrations, channeling them all into something useful. But he doesn't want to make a weapon. Instead, he crafts a little sand mould in the shape of a cat. While he's waiting for the mould to set, he decides to go up to his father's old desk. He sits in his father's chair, tracing his fingers along the oak.

His Father did everything he could to make as much time for Jayce as possible, even when the crown worked him ragged. He had a short temper sometimes, and wanted to mould Jayce into a certain type of person he simply is not, but he was kind and curious. He loved Jayce and his mother so much.

When Jayce was younger, he hoped the grief would fade. It's less present sometimes, but it's a wraith that always follows him. He was told he would grow strong enough to carry it. But it isn't something to carry. It's something that holds you.

He's forgotten the sound of his father's laughter, but he knows it was bellowing and deep. He remembers the feelings of his father's hands grabbing him by the waist and launching him into the air while he laughed and laughed. He remembers the feeling of holding on to his dad's hair when he was lifted on his shoulders. He remembers summer nights with lumaflies. Winters with bedtime stories told with an exhaustion he could not hide.

He remembers the bad things, too, but those he likes to forget when he can.

He does not want to lose what he has of his father. The good memories of him. He does not know what he would do if the grief that's been holding him gets more twisted and complicated.

He stares at the safe his father kept, welded firmly into the wall. It's made of reinforced Lunze, an arcane metal that's essentially impossible to break into. He always thought his father had it because he was incredibly enthusiastic about metals. That it was the sort of thing he just thought was neat—a silly thought, in retrospect.

The safe has a special key. He has no idea where his father kept it. He searches for it until the nausea and headache from last night's drinks return.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

"I swear, darling, your father never told me anything, and I certainly don't know about any key," Jayce's mother says as they drink hot tea in the courtyard.

"Nothing at all, Mother? Truly?"

She takes a deep breath and leans against one of the marble columns.

"Whatever he was doing," She says eventually. "He kept it from me."

"So there was something to keep?" Jayce asks.

She puts a hand on his knee. She's looking at Jayce with an expression he's never seen on her before. With something close to shame.

"Whatever it was… it kept him incredibly busy. It troubled him deeply. His forge was built specifically for it."

"What?"

"He… I don't know. The Queen has been so good to us, and, well, she was giving you such good schooling."

Jayce wants to scream.

"I think… it was better for me not to know," his Mother continues. "So I never asked. Clearly, it is dangerous to know. Look at what happened to poor, sweet Veris."

"Ma…" Jayce says. "Do you have somewhere you can go if… our family name was tarnished?"

His mother is taken aback.

"Do you believe whatever your father did could do so?"

Jayce looks behind them, makes sure nobody is listening, and leans in closer.

"Perhaps, but it isn't about that. I just… have you ever had doubts?

"About what?"

"This… city?"

His Mother's eyes go huge.

"Baby… you aren't thinking of … leaving, are you?"

"No. No. Nothing so extreme. I just don't want to be the type of person who does the wrong thing out of duty. I - I want to do the right thing out of love."

She huffs, smiling affectionately. Jayce continues.

"I just want to know if you have a place to stay. If I were to... have to make a decision like that."

She puts a hand on his cheek.

"Do not worry about me, baby. I can stay with your Auntie. Never worry about me, alright? Sons don't take care of their mothers. Not until they are old. And I am not old."

Jayce smirks, but the relief he feels is so potent that he feels his whole body ease.

"I think your father would have been very proud that you have a mind of your own."

Usually, this would make Jayce incredibly happy.

Now, he doesn't know what to feel.

He just feels hollow.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce knocks on the infirmary door right around suppertime.

Lest is behind the desk. When she sees Jayce, she rushes up to him and gives him a hug. Jayce is happy to see her, but it's complicated. He's been confused about her for a while. Her demeanor has changed. She's been gone more often. And now, with the murder…

"It's so good to see you!" She says.

"You too."

"He's not here. He's been odd. Working a ton. You know what he's making?"

"No…" Jayce frowns. He knows Viktor is the type to bury himself in his work when he's stressed. "But Lest, I wanted to see you too."

Jayce has no idea how to approach this. He should have gone to Cait for advice. She's surprisingly apt at asking people the right questions. Lest frowns at his change of tone.

"The man that I was supposed to meet with the night before the autumn ball, I don't know if he heard, but I found him murdered in my chambers upon my return to Piltover."

Lest drops the plant.

"Jayce, oh gods. I heard about the body, but I didn't know it was him?"

Jayce nods. She seems genuinely shocked. He has no idea where to go from here.

"I was, umm… wondering if you perhaps, told anybody about the meeting accidentally?"

She raises a brow.

"…. accidentally?"

It dawns on her that Jayce is being serious.

"Jayce, of course I didn't."

"You just seem… different lately. I don't know. You are… gone more. You're happier."

"Yeah, Jayce. I'm courting somebody! I'm not sneaking around betraying my friends! Who do you think I am?!"

Jayce feels terrible. Of course, it wasn't something nefarious.

"Oh, Lest, I'm sorry. Truly."

She immediately calms, but is still a little indignant.

"It's fine. You can redeem yourself by passing me the shears."

Jayce does. He's about to ask her more about this new person she's seeing, but the door swings open. It's Viktor with a basket full of herbs. Gray follows behind him, waving at Jayce with a lack of professionalism any other High Guard would scold him for.

Gray stays stationed at the door. Jayce turns his attention to Viktor, feeling suddenly off balance. The drinking last night didn't help. He takes a seat on one of the infirmary beds and holds his head. The tension is palpable.

"I'm going to go… find a better pot for this plant," Lest says, bolting from the chair. Viktor looks very uncertain.

"I umm…" Jayce says. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night."

"So, you remember," Viktor says. He doesn't sound angry. In fact, he just seems sad, like he's trying and failing to make a joke. Jayce scratches the back of his neck and tries not to think about what it was like when Viktor had a hand there, when he had him in his arms. "It's alright, Jayce. I… deserved it."

Jayce hates the look on his face. The shame there.

"I shouldn't have," Viktor whispers, trying to keep his voice down so Gray doesn't hear. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

It hurts. Jayce can't even hide it.

"Are you saying you regret it?"

"Don't you?"

"Never."

Viktor's eyes widen. He sighs, almost as if frustrated.

"Though I won't lie, Viktor. I am still… quite angry. Can you at least try to explain to me why you are doing what you are doing? Why… those people?"

Viktor checks to make sure Gray is still out of earshot. Their close proximity is not helping Jayce one bit.

"Do you remember the attack on the bridge two winters ago? The one where the Firelights hijacked the caravan of food exports?"

Jayce remembers it. He was not there, but many guards died.

"When I started to work as an apothecary in Zaun again after my isolation, I thought like you. I was completely against Violence. In many ways, I still am."

But not entirely. Jayce frowns.

"I saw a lot of children who were malnourished. There's only so much one can do for a starving child. There was only so much I could give. Much of what I provided was minor pain relievers. You have no idea, Jayce, what it is like. You could not fathom what I have seen."

"Piltover's food lines are criminally slow. Criminally undersupplied. That winter was especially unforgiving. And then the firelights instigated the attack. They brought it back to Zaun, and the children ate. It wasn't for long. It wasn't enough. But they ate. And even if they were not feeding the starving, how much can you blame people for finally fighting back? You say they are violent. I see people responding to violence. Piltover is just able to hide its violence behind its own propriety. You should know that by now."

Jayce swallows. He'd never thought of it that way. He doesn't think he could ever truly agree with the Firelights. They have hurt too many innocents. Some of Silco's people are with them now. Friends of the people who killed his father. He's starting to believe that both sides are terrible. That there is no good, only chaos and suffering.

"Thank you for telling me," Jayce says. He's not fully ready to forgive, but he is ready to start.

Viktor gives him a curt nod.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Jayce works up some courage.

"I… know you do not feel the same way I feel about you, but, if you would have me, may we still work together? I would love to be your guide, and I've cherished the time in the infirmary."

Viktor doesn't say anything for a long moment, which makes Jayce nervous enough to offer more.

"We could even pretend our time on the Island did not happen," Jayce says.

Viktor nods. Then, the oddest thing happens. He faces away from both Jayce and Gray and starts to cough—horrible sounding coughs. Jayce puts a hand on his shoulder. Viktor coughs into a handkerchief. Takes a deep breath and turns back around. Jayce hates the sound of it. It fills him with an icy dread.

"Are you alright? … It's not back, is it?"

"No, Jayce. Please just ignore it."

"But-"

"It is a personal matter, but I assure you I am fine. Regarding your request to consider spending time together… I think it would be for the best if we kept… distance, at least for a while."

Jayce tries not to let how crushed he is show on his face.

"But -"

"It is all too much for me, Jayce," Viktor whispers, looking pointedly at the ground. Jayce feels like something vital has been pulled from him. Viktor then brings the hammer down: "I cannot do this anymore."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. ·.

Cyr,

I believe you have mistaken me for a fool this time. You do not know my father and sister like I do. I have dinner with them later tonight to discuss my experiences with you. They are both eager to learn, and my father, despite being very angry with me for staying with you, has promised to listen. I know you have been hurt before, but you are making far too many assumptions about my family for my liking.

How could you think that you could insult me and my intelligence, then imply you have some sort of romantic attachment to me? Should you admire me half as much as you claim, you would not have called me a dictator in training. You would not have called me my father's pawn.

I will write a report regarding any progress I make with my father. Perhaps it is for the best that we stay aligned only in our political interests.

-Cor

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·. ·.

Jayce spends the next few days in a complete daze. He's never felt more heartbroken. He did not realize heartbreak was a thing you could physically feel in your ribcage. He gets the expression now. It always bothered him before, as the heart is something far more likely to be crushed. It isn't brittle enough to break.

But this is a break. It's a shattering. It's sleeplessness. It's random waves of grief. It's waking up in the morning and being forced to remember your reality all over again. It's dreaming of early morning smiles and flowers in his hair, and "you're my only. I did not mean it. I'm so sorry."

Even through the heartbreak, he has an odd, perhaps deluded feeling that what is between him and Viktor is not over. They are connected through magic. They've been through so much together. They cannot end the way Viktor has asked.

Of course, despite that feeling, Jayce respects his wishes and keeps his distance.

Jayce and Caitlyn swap tomes in the meantime. Jayce learns so much from Coralie and Cyr's letters. The historical texts are dense and difficult, but he does glean something very important that he's very afraid to tell Viktor, should they ever speak again. It involves a concept called Fissure. Viktor should know. He just does not know how to begin to explain it to him without causing Viktor to cut himself off completely.

He spends his hours off duty trying to find the key to his father's safe. But he cannot find it anywhere, not in his mother's house, not in the forge. He even asked Veris's family. For all he knows, his father threw it into the river, rendering the safe's contents forever lost. He misses making medicines. He misses making magic. He misses mint and sage. He tries to let this new purpose fuel him.

With Cassandra's permission, Marcus officially bans Caitlyn from the investigation into Veris's murder. Cassandra claims it's so Caitlyn can focus on more important duties, but all it does is fuel Jayce and Cait's suspicions. It becomes increasingly obvious that whatever happened to Veris was not the work of the firelights but of someone close to the crown intent on sending Jayce a warning.

They have done little to cover their tracks. Caitlyn finds an odd discrepancy in the guard logs during the time Jayce was supposed to meet Veris. A guard who was out of town was listed to have worked that day. There were many guards stationed throughout the castle, but the spot listed for the maze and gardens has a four-hour discrepancy.

There is a clear paper trail indicating the crown's involvement. The Crown is essentially investigating itself, and, by default, will rule the murder unsolvable.

"What I don't understand," Caitlyn says as she reviews some logs in her breakfast nook, "Is why they would make it so easy to figure out?"

"I do not think they have many people questioning them," Jayce says.

"And if they do…" Caitlyn says, "It's not as if they can do anything. It's the will of the queen. Though, we could find a way to bring Marcus down, at least."

Caitlyn frowns. She stares out the window.

"I am starting to understand why Coralie hated the idea of Kings and Queens and Soveriegns," she says. "Which probably is not a wonderful thing to feel considering my future."

"We'll find a way to get Veris justice," Jayce says. He tries to project a confidence he simply does not have.

It is with this in mind that Caitlyn winds up breaking into Marcus's quarters without Jayce's knowledge. She bursts back into her chambers right before dawn, waking him from his slumber.

"I've been out tonight." She says. "We've got him."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce gets his room back exactly a week after their return to Piltover. The moment he has time to himself in his own bed, he shamefully takes himself in his hand and imagines what would have happened if he hadn't been a coward on the morning everything changed.

He's been told Viktor's been working frantically by everyone who has been on shift with him. He wonders if, when all the work he has to do is done, Viktor will finally admit to himself that perhaps he made the wrong choice.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

Coralie,

It was never my intent to insult your intelligence. Words can not express how sorry I am. I will say no more. I understand you are hurt. The feelings I expressed were completely true. If you would like to see me in person, meet me at the riverbank where we last parted at dawn on Summer 20.

Yours always

-Cyr

Cyr

You were right. They will not listen. My family cannot be stopped, at least not like this. I will see you at dawn and explain more then.

-Coralie

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

The next time he sees Viktor, it's not at all where he'd expect. It's at the Winter Artists Gala, an event held by The Crown each year that's supposed to showcase the Kingdom's artistic talents. This year's theme: Unity. It finds Queen Cassandra using Viktor as a prop, illustrating to fascinated nobles how Piltover's relationship with Zaun is so positive that she has Zaunites on her high staff.

Viktor looks incredibly handsome tonight. Unfairly so. His hair is slicked back as he tends to do for formal occasions. He wears an incredibly well-fitted suit and tailcoat. Jayce is so distracted by him that he almost forgets he and Caitlyn have a job to do. He's also horrified by the way he's being paraded on stage, something he knows Viktor must hate.

But again: they have a job to do. Caitlyn nudges Jayce when she spots Marcus. They approach.

"A word?" she asks. Marcus furrows his brow, but follows.

Caitlyn and Jayce take Marcus to the Art of the Ancients wing of the palace. They sit him on a bench next to some of the finest pottery. Caitlyn pulls out the documents. Marcus's jaw twitches, but he says nothing.

"I see you broke into my home," Marus says.

"I am the princess," Caitlyn says. "I go where I please."

"I can see that."

He remains silent. Caitlyn and Jayce stare at each other for a moment.

"You worked for Silco," Caitlyn says. "These letters illustrate it clearly. He provided you with an honest amount of coin should you provide him information on my Mother."

Marcus crosses his legs.

"What do you want, Caitlyn?"

"Your resignation. By tomorrow. I know you are responsible for the murder. I've also found you corrupt and deplorable. I want you out of this palace. I have gotten a staff member to copy these documents on a printing press, and I will bring them to my mother posthaste should you not leave your position. I'm sure if she learns you were working with the enemy, she would be less than thrilled. As you are well aware, our gallows still exist, even if they are no longer in public."

"And who is to replace me? My second in command is a fool. The head of the Queen's Guard is elderly. Jayce is… Jayce. I am the best option you have to keep you and your mother safe from harm. I have done so for the past fifteen years. A small deal on the side-"

"A small deal on the side?!"

Caitlyn stands. She looks at him with a level of vitriol Jayce would wither under if directed at him.

"You colluded with an enemy of the crown. You colluded with a man who brought shimmer to Zaun. You are vile. And by tomorrow, you will be gone."

Marcus scowls and closes his eyes. He knows he's been defeated.

"This isn't over," he says, as a pitiful response—a final clawing for some sort of dignity. He then proceeds to storm out. Caitlyn and Jayce smile at each other. If they cannot get Justice for Veris in any other way, at least they will have this.

They've won.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

Jayce immediately leaves their successful blackmailing to find Viktor. He's worried about him. He's furious for him. He at least wants to ask him if he is alright. He finds Viktor with Salo of all people, which immediately puts him in a foul mood. Salo is grasping his wrist.

"I told you you would be amazing up there. Nobody could take their eyes off you, darling," Salo says. Jayce sneers.

"Viktor," Jayce says, thinking of an excuse quickly. "One of our guests has this terrible headache. I was hoping you would see to her."

Viktor nods.

"Of course, excuse me, Salo."

Jayce leads Viktor into an empty parlor room. It's all rich blue walls and strong portraits of unrecognizable aristocrats with varying degrees of smugness. There is a private balcony with a beautiful view, overlooking both Piltover and Zaun.

"There's no patient, is there?"

"No."

"I was not in need of rescuing, Jayce," Viktor hisses.

"I know! I had to ask you if you were alright!"

"I was there at the Queen's request. It's not as if I could refuse. But I assure you, I am fine."

"… alright. That is good to hear," Jayce says. And gods, it's so hard to even see him again. He's missed him so much.

Viktor pauses for a moment on his way out. He looks at Jayce. His eyes go all big, and then he starts to cough. Jayce tenses in surprise as Viktor swings open the balcony doors, coughing violently over the rail, some sort of substance leaving his mouth. Jayce rushes after him. The moment he gets close enough, he can't help but gasp in horror. He's coughing up blood - but not just blood - in his hand, a few stones.

"Viktor-"

"I am alright, Jayce." Viktor hisses. "Will you stop fussing over me?!"

Jayce clenches his jaw.

"This is a magical illness, clearly. I know you don't want to be with me, but I could still be your guide! "

Viktor's eyes flicker a little bit as his body heals itself. Jayce looks around to make sure nobody from any neighboring balconies could have seen. For a second, he thinks he sees a shadow move, but when he blinks, there's nothing there.

"Please, Jayce. I beg of you. Leave it be. I will be alright. You are not entitled to know everything."

"I know that," and perhaps he has no right to say it, but he continues anyway. "And… I know you don't feel the same way about me. But I would take anything over this."

Jayce reaches out to touch Viktor's shoulder, then decides against it. Viktor coughs.

"You don't know me, Jayce, not truly."

"Why do you insist on pulling away?! If I don't I want to?!"

"Why do you insist on staying so close? Why do you persist?"

"We both know the answer to that, and I know you would not like me saying it."

Viktor freezes. He looks at Jayce like Jayce has stabbed him.

The answer is clear: Because I love you. Because you're my only.

"Jayce.."

Before Viktor can say anything else, something in the sky catches his eye. He grips Jayce's tunic with a horrified gasp. He points at the sky.

Jayce sees it just in time. An exploding arrow. The exact weapon that was just demonstrated to him. It has found a target: a wyvern and rider coming over the river. Jayce watches as a ball of fire erupts, and then watches in horror as the Wyvern rider, still aflame, tumbles downward like a falling star.

And then, horror stacks upon horror.

The Wyvern starts to spin out of control, as if its wing is injured. But it does not fall into the river like its rider. Instead, it starts to spiral sideways towards Lower Piltover.

He clutches at Viktor's arm as the Wyvern collides with homes and businesses below, crumbling buildings and starting a fire in its wake.

"Gods," Jayce whispers. He looks over at Viktor. Viktors brows furrow. He seems horrified by it all. Jayce can barely process what he is seeing, the smoke rising in the sky.

"I… I need to get my armor on," Jayce says. "I need to go down there."

"What?" Viktor hisses, grabbing Jayce's arm. "You're in the guard, not the front!"

"It's… umm. In the event of a mass casualty, everyone off duty or on non-essential duty is called to the event," Jayce says.

There's a massive boom. Multiple Wyvern riders fly over the river. Dodging the exploding arrows. The Firelights. He has a terrible feeling that tonight will be incredibly bloody.

Jayce turns to look at Viktor. Viktor looks at Jayce, unguarded and trying to understand. The next thing Jayce knows, Viktor is pulling him into his arms, setting his crutch aside to wrap Jayce in a hug.

Jayce lets himself treasure it for the seconds he has. He allows himself, selfishly, to kiss the top of Viktor's head. He smells like he always does. Like mint and sage and salt and home. Jayce breathes him in. Feels the warmth of him. Rests a hand over the jut of his shoulder blade.

He gives himself five more seconds to be shrouded in everything he loves. Five more. When he pulls away, Viktor grabs him by his face and pulls a little. It takes everything in Jayce not to take the clear invitation for a kiss. Instead, he kisses Viktor's forehead; he hears Viktor let out a trembling little breath. Feels the tension as Viktor furrows his brows.

"No need, Viktor," Jayce says, "This is not a goodbye. I'll be back."

Jayce does not want to be kissed simply because he might not come home. He wants to be kissed because he's expected to be present. Still, he cherishes the feeling of Viktor's skin under his lips.

He can't bear to look Viktor in the eye afterward. He drags himself away.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

Coralie,

Attached is a gift I think will suit you well. It is called a sun sword. I made it with my own magic. Its blade is sharp and lethal, but it also channels energy from the arcana. Lift it to the sun, and it will take in its light. You can use that light to eviscerate anything on your path.

I hope you will wield it without hesitation during any battles you may face before I see you again.

I will cherish our night together until my dying breath. I think of you more than I think of anything else. You are everything that is good and true about this world. You have shown me it can be beautiful, still, even as everything crumbles.

I plan to use my magic to create a haven for us, somewhere impossible to find. I have an idea to create a sanctuary within a mountain, where no magic but mine can reach. You and I can hide there until the conflicts settle. We can run away together, if that would make you happy.

For now, I will see you in everything good and powerful until I finally get to hold you again.

- Yours, Cyr

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

Caitlyn gets ushered into a secret room they use during conflicts while Jayce, Gray, Ilee, and Cara don their armor. Jayce has always hated the anticipation before a conflict. At least when he's in the middle of it, he's only thinking about survival.

A carriage drops them at the edge of the street near the old clock tower, Viktor likes to visit. It is absolute mayhem. Fire from the explosive arrow and the Wyvern's panicked breaths scatters down the street, lighting homes and shops ablaze. The sound of screaming from so many sources dulls the howling wind and the crackling of fire.

He sees Marcus and his front-line guards fight with a group of Firelights by the riverbank, wasting precious time they could be using to save people. Nearby, there's a group of guards who have the injured wyvern cornered and netted. Wyverns are rare, beautiful creatures. At about three times the weight of a horse with wingspans that rival the length of most modest piltovian homes, they are graceful, intelligent symbols of Zaun.

Wyverns are considered near-sacred to Zaunites. In Piltover, people struggle to understand them. That difference could not be clearer here and now.

A Firelight on a wyvern flies over the fire. The wyvern spits out water. Jayce gasps at the sight.

Jayce deploys his group to help the countless citizens stuck under rubble and trapped in burning homes. Jayce swallows back bile at the sight of burnt corpses near the sight of the fall.

This was their arrow. This was Piltover.

Jayce, Gray, and Cara immediately get to work trying to lift a massive piece of stone off an elderly woman. Jayce helps drags her backward. His whole body tenses, and his blood pounds, and he notices too late that she's lost her leg. He demands Gray wrap it and get her to safety, but Gray notices a firelight helping a coughing child out of a burning home.

"GRAY! THEY'RE HELPING!"

Gray does not stop. He tackles the firelight. They roll around on the ash-covered street. Jayce runs for the child. He feels his leg start to ache and give, and do all the things it absolutely cannot do right now. His armor feels heavy and suffocating. He grabs the boy regardless.

"My brother!!" The boy screams. "My brother is still in there!!"

"I'll get him! I'll get him!" Jayce says. His eyes sting, and his lungs are in agony, and his leg isn't too far behind. He sets the boy in a rescue carriage and rushes toward the burning home. He coughs. The air is thick and it burns to even breathe. He tries to make it inside. He sees the little boy trapped under a chest. He grabs it and takes his hand.

They are able to get out seconds before the structure starts to collapse. Jayce is holding the boy's hand when they stumble across Gray. He's strangling the firelight.

"Gray! STOP IT!"

The next thing he knows, he's being sprayed in Gray's blood. All over his face. Even in his mouth. He tastes copper and death. He covers the boy's eyes.

It takes him a moment to register that Gray's head is gone.

Above his remains is a fierce-looking woman with a metal arm and a wickedly sharp blade. The firelight underneath Gray scrambles upward, feeling for their neck.

The woman regards him for a moment. Jayce tells the boy to run, thinking he'll have to fight, but she ignores him completely. Distantly, he can hear Cara screaming. Then, a wyvern swoops in and grabs both the woman and Gray's near victim in its claws, taking them to the top of the clock tower.

He looks over and sees Cara through the red haze of fire and the eye-stinging smoke. She looks inhuman in her grief. Furious. Frothing. Screaming up a storm. She disappears for a moment, heading toward the riverbank. Jayce has half a mind to follow her. Fewer and fewer people are crying for help, either dead or about to die. The fighting rages on. A man on a green wyvern swoops in, casting a bunch of guards in a thick, non-lethal netting material.

Jayce knows who this is.

This is the leader himself, Ekko. He moves with lethal precision, though his weapon of choice, the netting, more often than not leaves his victims alive.

Jayce eyes him for a moment. He can't see the face behind the mask, but he's familiar enough with his description to know, just by that white shock of hair and his engaging method, that it's him. Ekko shoots a web at Jayce. Jayce manages to dodge it. Ilee fights off someone that - huh… the way the firelight moves... he it finds so oddly familiar he almost stops in the chaos of it all. Jayce searches around for more injured.

Instead, he finds a new horror.

Cara, to the horror of the archers, has taken an exploding arrow and aimed it right by where some of the firelights are resting atop the clock tower.

Jayce screams at her to stop. The structure cannot take a hit like that. He doesn't know if Cara knows this or is too blinded by her rage.

No pleas for her to stop work. It's too late. There are so many people under the clock tower. Jayce screams at people to run. But there's only so much that can be done.

There's an ear-splitting BANG. Jayce sees the direction it's about to fall and begins to run, but there's only so far his leg can take him. There's the sound of something creaking and groaning, the sound of crumbling stone, a wave of debris and dust mixing in with the fire. There's a horrible, horrible ringing in his ears.

He promised. He promised Viktor he'd try. He fights for it. He fights past the agony of the smoke and debris filling his airways and pushes himself forward towards the river. He thinks of honey eyes and lethal smiles, and he tries. He tries. He tries.

It is not enough. He finds himself unable to withstand the smoke. He cannot get enough air. He feels he's failed. He falls to the ground and his vision goes white.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·

He wakes to an unmistakable and bizarre feeling of being dragged somewhere. There's a stone-tight grip on his hands as he's being dragged through grass and mud toward the river.

"I will say, he is such a cutie. I mean, look at that handsome face! I wanna squish those cheeks."

He's lost a gauntlet. He's lost his sword. His fingernails drag in the mud. He opens his eyes. The sky is an angry red from the fire and smoke. There's ash and debris everywhere. So much screaming. All of this destruction was all Piltover.

He gathers that two people are with him. One is the chipper person dragging him, the other is silent and off to the side, wearing a wolf mask.

"Gods, he looks bad," the person in the wolf mask says. Jayce's hearing is terrible. Everything sounds underwater and fuzzy. But still…

That voice.

"I know. Not a scratch. But this wasn't my fault! 'Sides… he's fine. I think he's just… dirty. Doesn't seem like there's anything broken. Or.. more broken. Bah!"

Jayce looks up. The woman who's talking more wears a rabbit mask. She's dragging him like he weighs nothing at all. She has a hood up. Gloves on. She's not the one Jayce is interested in.

"He should be good here, right? Oh. Look. He's waking up!"

"Damn. We should go."

Yes. Jayce recognizes that voice. The woman in the wolf mask. The firelight robes. The large gauntlets on her hands.

"….. Vi?"

Vi freezes for a moment. There's a horrible thud that startles him as a wyvern lands behind them.

Vi backs up slowly and rushes for the Wyvern.

"VI?!!"

Vi looks at Jayce. She gives him a little bow, as if out of some derranged respect, then climbs on top of the wyvern.

"We gotta go," the Rabbit mask says.

"People need help!" Someone else counters.

"We can't risk any more of our lives. Let's MOVE. NOW!"

The Wyvern takes off, leaving Jayce sitting there in shock, lying amidst the flames and the fury.

Jayce looks back up the riverbank. The fire is terrible. It's spread far and wide. The clock tower collapse has sliced through the city like a scar. The number of dead has to be in the hundreds at least. There are bodies everywhere. Young children. Pets. Elderly. Jayce starts to cough and cough, trying to find less horrors that will get burned into his memory.

A wyvern takes a dip in the river, helping to extinguish the flames before the firelights vanish into the night, leaving the guard to deal with its own mess. Jayce watches as the Wyvern the knights have captured fights her way out of the restraints, pushing the knights back and taking off into the night to follow her kin. Jayce notices a bag falls from her saddle. Nobody seems to care, so he rushes after it and looks inside.

Inside are pamphlets.

ITERMENE MINING RESPONSIBLE FOR PLAGUE, NOT CURSE

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Jayce spends a huge portion of the late-night hours fishing bodies and the barely breathing from ash-covered rubble. He's covered in dried blood and soot and grime. All he wants is Viktor. But even as he's dismissed long after almost any other guards, he knows he has a job to do.

Jayce has a carriage take him to the lookout point, a beautiful high tower by the sea. He once took Viktor here, when everything was still well. The wind tonight is just right. The stars finally start to peek their way out from behind the smoke and dust. He thinks of tonight, of the failure of his people. Of their inability to help the citizens he thought they were all sworn to protect.

The high tower gives any visitor a perfect vantage point of the city below. Better than any view aside from those in the palace itself.

He goes into the bag he found. He looks at the place he once called his home. The place he was once proud to protect.

Now he understands that Piltover keeps its people afraid enough to stay loyal, yet comfortable enough to stay asleep.

He takes the pamphlets from the bag and, with a sigh, releases them. He watches the wind carry them onto the streets below, waiting to be found in the morning.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

He finally moves, much like a migratory bird might instinctively move back to their home in the spring, to the infirmary. It's been hours since the first accident, yet he's still surprised when Lest sees him and pulls him in for a fierce hug. She keeps her voice hushed as not to disturb the many patients.

"What happened to you?!" she hisses. "We were worried sick!"

"I had to get as many people out as I could, then I attended to some matters."

"…Some matters? Listen, he would never admit it, but he's in absolute shambles. I sent him to wander around the greenhouse."

Jayce doesn't need to ask who he is. He makes his way past the hall of paintings of people he once thought he could admire, through the open marble halls, and outside toward the greenhouse.

It's oddly quiet outside. His armor clanks as he walks. He can barely even smell the smoke from here.

His armor is covered in blood, grass stains, and mud. His heart feels hollow. His eyes sting, and his lungs burn from the smoke. His old friend is a traitor, and he's worried that he'll break Caitlyn again when he tells her. His life has been built on sugar-coated falsehoods. He feels very much not like a guard or a knight or a soldier, but like a child playing pretend. He no longer knows what is kind or what is true.

Jayce's leg is already aching, so he's being careful with his walk. It helps him notice the cracks in the ground, Unnatural and splintering, some larger than others. Some cracking right through the cobblestone path.

He sees little sparks of magic in the air. Then he notices blood in the cobbles along with stones - the type Viktor was coughing up. Jayce notices one of the stones shimmering in the moonlight. It's still blood-covered.

But he swears it might be amber.

As he gets closer to the back of the greenhouse, the cracks in the ground get bigger and bigger.

He finds Viktor sitting on a tree stump in the middle of the meadow behind the greenhouse, the ground cracked around him almost like a web.

He's wearing the heavier cloak. Jayce's colors. He looks weary and worn. The way the ground is cracked, there's a clear path, almost as a walkway to him. Jayce takes it. Viktor looks up at the sound of Jayce's armor clanking. He bites his lower lip and swallows.

"Jayce," he says, and Jayce can hear his voice tremble. "Are you alright?"

Jayce nods, but the moment Viktor's within reach, Jayce falls to his knees and wraps his arms around the back of Viktor's calves, careful of the one in the brace. He rests his head on the other man's thighs and further sinks to the ground. He feels Viktor's hands shaking. One rubs his back, the other reaches under his chin and starts working at his helmet strap.

He feels so foggy and distant. He looks up at Viktor. The man carefully tugs his helmet off. He cups Jayce's cheek in his hand, and Jayce leans into it like being given a blessing from the gods. He doesn't want to be this. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He just wants to be here.

"You are safe."

Jayce doesn't know if Viktor says it to reassure him or himself. Viktor runs a reassuring thumb along Jayce's cheekbone. It may be strange, but Jayce loves when Viktor's movements feel unsure - be it shaky, hesitant, or stilted. It makes Jayce feel like they both want. They both are afraid. It's less lonely. But tonight Viktor is shaking so terribly he's nearly trembling. It's as if he's about to burst.

Jayce still feels so far from his own body. He still tastes smoke, and he can still see charred bodies, and he can still hear screams.

"I don't… I don't want to be this anymore," Jayce admits. Jayce looks up at Viktor. They lock eyes. Viktor's eyes gleam in the moonlight. He cradles Jayce's face in his hands. He's staring at him as if trying to decipher if he's real. As if Jayce is the miracle this time.

"Oh, Jayce. What happened to you?"

Jayce shakes his head. So many new horrors will remain with him forever.

"I can't -"

"That's alright. You don't have to. Not with me. Not now. Can you stand?" Jayce does so, flinching at the pain in his leg.

"I'll have the palace staff fill a bath for you," he says.

Jayce feels himself nod. He lets Viktor guide him. They make a stop in the infirmary for some salts and scrubbers. They head to the baths in silence. By the time they arrive, the tub has been filled for him, steam filling the small room.

Viktor pulls up a stool for Jayce, then one for himself. He fiddles with a latch on the side of Jayce's breastplate. Jayce nods.

He tries not to think about the careful way Viktor helps him out of his armor, leaving nothing but his linens underneath. Viktor frowns when he sees the brace built in.

"We need to correct this," Viktor says. "As soon as we can. It's bent and not nearly as supportive as it should be."

"Alright," Jayce says, barely paying attention.

Jayce knows Gray's blood is still splattered all over his face. He feels himself trembling from both the cold and the weight of it all.

Viktor speaks in gentle little hushes. He sits across from him, gets a wash basin, one for clean water, then one for the rinse. He holds Jayce's jaw in one hand and carefully wipes his face with the other.

It feels divine, after all of the noise and bloodshed, to feel cared for like this. Jayce finds himself coming back to his body little by little. It's much easier when he wants to, when he feels safe to.

Viktor repeatedly rinses off the washcloth. He's so thorough. He makes sure to get by Jayce's ears—his neck.

Viktor's still just holding face. "I knew you were there, under all that gunk."

He says it with an adoration, Jayce almost fails to register that Viktor is trying to joke with him. He chuckles a little.

Viktor seems a bit shaken himself. He turns to the tub, pouring in some salts and oils. It begins to smell like eucalyptus and lavender. Viktor tests the temperature. Jayce notices how his hand trembles in the water.

"Are you alright?"

Viktor smiles a little. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"I am not the one who was just covered in blood."

Viktor turns away. The back of his neck starts to flush.

"Alright. You can undress now. For the bath. I could leave if you'd like. Or I could stay and perhaps… help you with your… muscles and… "

Jayce saves him the struggle.

"You can stay, Viktor."

Viktor nods, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

Jayce feels too detached from himself, too flattened and moored by the events of tonight, to think too much of being naked before him. Viktor's seen him for a week at the infirmary. It's not as if it's a particularly new sight.

Jayce tries not to look too much at the blood drying and stained on the outside of his armor. He sponges himself off quickly and gets into the bath. The warm water soothes him. Once he's in, Viktor seems more comfortable turning around.

Viktor sits by his shoulders. He's removed his cloak. The steam from the bath keeps the room plenty warm.

"You somehow have ash in your hair. That helmet is not as secure as you think."

Jayce notices Viktor reach out a hand and then hesitate there. He puts a tentative hand in Jayce's hair. Jayce relaxes.

Nobody else is in the wash chambers. It's so quiet all he can hear is an owl outside. The water move in the tub. Viktor's breathing.

So he closes his eyes and lets himself be tended to in a way that feels a lot like love.

"May I - may I wash the soot from your hair?"

Jayce nods. He wishes he felt less strange right now. He'd probably combust, but after everything tonight he just feels so fragile. He feels like he can still hear the screaming.

Viktor's fingers card through his hair, rinsing it with a cup.

Viktor starts massaging his fingers in Jayce's hair when he applies soap. It's extremely grounding. Almost enough to get him out of this fog. Viktor's definitely rubbing the soap in more than necessary. He's definitely giving him a massage.

He rinses the soap out with careful precision and dabs at anything that gets near his eyes with a thumb.

"Jayce," Viktor says. "Your leg is swollen. You need to be more careful. You will make things far harder for yourself in the long term."

"Sorry," Jayce says.

"Do not be. Just calm your mind, Jayce."

Viktor then notices Jayce's fingernails, filthy from being dragged in the dirt. He grabs a sponge and a basin again, moves his stool, and starts scrubbing them. The gesture is so absentminded, so oddly intimate, that Jayce can't help but smile. Viktor stays holding on to Jayce's hand long after the dirt is gone.

And then, as if in a trance, Viktor gently lifts Jayce's hand to his lips and presses a long, delicate kiss to the back of it. Jayce's breath hitches. His heart starts to race. Viktor's grip on Jayce's hand gets harder. He rests his cheek by Jayces knuckles. Jayce could cry. Viktor seems to realize himself. He drops Jayce's hand.

"I'm… that was… I'm so sorry."

"It was sweet," Jayce says. Viktor smiles, but says no more.

After a long time soaking, Viktor sends for his brace and some clothes.

Viktor helps towel-dry Jayce's hair, tending to him like one would a piece of fine art. Viktor still seems a bit off-kilter and off-center. As they're walking back to the palace, Viktor pauses in the walkway where he'd go if heading back to his chambers.

"I hope that helped."

He fiddles with the hem of Jayce's cloak. He coughs.

"I will see you in the morning, or not, I suppose."

Viktor's lower lip trembles. Jayce realizes Viktor might need this just as much as Jayce does.

"You can come sit with me for a while, if you'd like."

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

My Moonlight,

Expect me in our hiding spot by the First day of spring. I will use the distraction of the New Year's celebrations to escape this wretched place. The nights have been long and cold without you, and I have found myself feeling listless and unfocused. There is no stopping my father. There is no stopping the tide of hate that's overtaking Ellia.

So let us run away together, into that mountain sanctuary, where we can be happy. Let us find a place that is uncomplicated and warm. Let us build a home together, even if nobody will see it or understand it, even if it will always be just for us.

With all my Love,

- Coralie

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

Like they've done in the past, Viktor sits on a chair by Jayce's bedside and talks with Jayce as his sleeping medicine takes effect. This time, however, he holds Jayce's hand and runs a hand through his hair. Jayce does not talk about what happened to him out there. They don't talk about anything. Tonight is not that kind of night. It is just a night for light touches and gentle platitudes that will bring him back to the ground.

"I… I really fought tonight," Jayce whispers into the empty space. Viktor studies him. "To survive. You said I do not do that. I promise I did."

"Good," Viktor says. Jayce can barely make out his expression in the dark. The sleeping medicine is starting to drag him down more. "Though, in my mind, you should not have been out there in the first place."

Jayce huffs. Viktor still seems troubled. Jayce worries his lack of propriety and respect has warn on the other man.

"I am so sorry I have been cruel," Jayce says. Viktor's hand travels from his hair to cup his cheek.

"You just have nothing to apologize for, Jayce. You have been remarkably patient."

Jayce doesn't know what makes him say it. Perhaps it's the exhaustion, the need to say something true.

"You know I'd run away with you, right?" Jayce asks.

'We c-"

"I know you wouldn't. But I just want to let you know I would. In a heartbeat. Alright? If you ever need to, say the words."

"You shouldn't give up your life for anyone that easily, let alone-"

"Stop. It would not be giving anything up." Jayce says, kissing Viktor's palm, "You are. So Wonderful."

Viktor’s hand goes stiff. His fingers twitch. Viktor takes a hand from his face, but he keeps holding Jayce's hand. Jayce feels his breathing start to even out. He absently rubs his thumb along Viktor's palm.

Then, in the dark of his chambers, he hears the smallest of sounds - a pained sound nonetheless. And then he feels it, a horrible chill in the air.

When he opens his eyes, he can see Viktor, in the singular candlelight, hunched over himself, curled away from Jayce in shame, tense to the point he’s near shaking. His shoulders rise and fall in these horrible little jerks. And Jayce hears the faintest of agonized breaths. Muffled and afraid. Alone in the dark.

Viktor is crying.

It is incredibly clear, by the gentle way Viktor continues to hold his hand, and by the fact that he looks like he’s trying to muffle himself to the point of pain, that he does not want Jayce to realize this. Jayce’s heart breaks for him.

He wants nothing more than to tug at his hand and pull him into bed and hold him in his arms, but he does not think Viktor would like that. He wants to respect his privacy. Jayce gives Viktor's hand the faintest of squeezes. He knows it's not enough, but he knows Viktor would not want any more.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When Jayce wakes up the next morning, Viktor is gone. There's a little moonlily sitting in a small vase on his dresser that definitely wasn't there when he fell asleep. He takes it and smells it. Last night comes back to him in waves. The cascading grief is almost enough to knock him breathless.

He spends his morning rewriting schedules to account for fallen guard members and trying not to wish he had never been raised here.

He assumes people have found the pamphlets. He hopes they make a difference.

Once he is finished, he finds Viktor in the infirmary, petting the little Tabby cat on his desk. He notes there isn't a guard on him. They are, after all, understaffed now.

"Would now be a good time to go to the forge?" Jayce asks. Viktor nods.

"Of course. Jayce."

Viktor hands Jayce a cane.

"I think you should try this today."

Jayce swallows, but does as told.

The midwinter chill keeps them huddled close. They exchange few words. Jayce will not bring up Viktor's crying last night unless Viktor does first, and they both know that will not happen.

Jayce finds his old cat mould when he returns.

"Oh!" He says. "I was going to make this for you. A little paperweight."

Viktor smiles.

"Why?"

"Because it's - I don't know, I was just thinking of you."

Jayce grins as Viktor tries not to blush. He lays out his armor on the table and works with the brace welded in. He grabs his hammer. He's noticed, even with a little bit of the heat from the forge, that Viktor has started to sweat.

"So sensitive," Jayce teases.

"I'm sorry I was not raised in a lava bed," he snaps, his tone light. They're skating close to a familiar pattern they used to have before the Island, but it isn't quite there. There's still something so definitely removed about Viktor. Something… final that Jayce can't look at too closely without wanting to be sick.

He's about to start re-adjusting his brace with Viktor's guidance when the doors to the forge open. Marcus walks in, closing the door behind him. He has an arrogance to his walk that makes Jayce nervous.

"Good morning, Jayce, Viktor."

Marcus stands closer to Viktor than Jayce would like. Viktor furrows his brow.

Before Jayce can even process it, Marcus is throwing a dagger at his head. He gasps and tries to dodge, but he doesn't need to. The knife freezes midair. Viktor's magic. It clatters to the floor. Jayce's heart plummets. Viktor's eyes flicker for a moment. It was instinct. It was just instinct. Oh gods.

Marcus grins.

"I knew it," he says. "Incredible."

Then, Marcus raises something else in the air, a needle, and drives it into the side of Viktor's neck. Viktor collapses. Jayce is immediately on the floor, grabbing him and cradling him in his arms.

"What did you do!?!? Viktor!! Viktor?!?!?"

Viktor lets out a little moan. The relief makes him want to cry.

"It's a mild sedative, Talis. I just wanted to speak with you without him turning me into a toad."

Jayce glares at him and waits for him to say his piece.

"It's funny. I always suspected something was off about him. I couldn't decide what it was. And then I saw the two of you on the balcony last night, and he had the strangest glow in his eye."

Marcus paces the forge. Jayce's heart thunders in his chest. He stays on the floor with Viktor, who seems half asleep. His eyes flicker as if he's trying to do something. Jayce wonders how Marcus knew this injection, whatever it may be, would work.

"Here is what is going to happen," Marcus says. "You are going to take all evidence of my work with Silco and destroy it, or I will tell the crown about his little secret. You are going to take me to where you have it hidden and burn it in front of me, and then you are going to go to the Princess and tell her I'm here to stay. Whatever excuse you want."

Jayce swallows. Even if he does this, Marcus will know. Marcus will always know Viktor is a mage. It's not just that he can hold it over Jayce, he can reveal it if he feels like it.

Its his fault. its his fault. the gallows are creeking and

his body swinging like on a pendulum - its his fault

he has his mouth open in a silent scream

The image of the mage he got killed all those years ago keeps flickering, changing from his face to Viktor's face. Jayce blinks back tears. He lets Viktor lean against one of the table legs and stands.

"Deal," Jayce says. "The documents are in my chambers. I can take you there."

Marcus smirks and begins walking toward the exit, his back turned. Jayce's hands tremble. He grabs the hammer he had resting on the anvil and follows.

There is no erasing Marcus's memory. Therefore, Jayce cannot let this man leave.

With as much force as he can muster, Jayce brings the hammer down. It hits Marcus's head with a sickening crunch, and Jayce immediately knows, by the sheer sound of it, by the way the handle of his hammer reverberates like it does when he's shattered something, that he's killed him.

It's odd… the horror and the guilt and the disgust are still present as with any time he's killed, yet he's never felt more justified than he does right now, watching the blood pool at his feet. He looks to where Viktor is leaning against the table, still half awake. Jayce needs to know what Marcus injected him with now, so it never happens again.

Jayce kneels down to Viktor's level. Viktor weakly grabs Jayce's face in his hands.

"Or darling," Viktor says, his voice cracking. Jayce blinks back tears. Darling, he said. "What have you done?"

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

The nightmare that follows unfurls quickly.

They do not try to dispose of the body. Viktor argues it would be too messy, too immoral, and too complicated. Instead, Jayce reports it to the second in command.

He says they found him like this. In his questioning, where Caitlyn is present, he reveals the evidence that Marcus worked for Silco.

"Perhaps he made some enemies then," Jayce suggests.

He feels nothing about it and everything about it. Viktor seems to oscillate between wanting to scream at him and wanting to hold him, so he does neither.

It's Viktor's questioning that has Jayce so worried, that would have him pacing were it not for the state of his leg. He is in there for a long while. Jayce sits in the palace hall and waits. Viktor comes outside with a carefully neutral expression. Jayce sees Caitlyn squeeze his shoulder. He sees Caitlyn mouth thank you, and he feels like he may break.

"What did you do? What did you say to her?"

"Don't worry, Jayce. I said nothing."

Jayce doesn't even feel guilty until he thinks of Marcus's daughter and her teacups, and then he starts to weep.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When the night falls, Viktor sits at Jayce's bedside once more. He watches as Jayce takes his sleeping medicine. Jayce mutters hushed little I'm sorrys into he palm of Viktor's shaking hand. Viktor just hushes him.

"Focus on your breathing," Viktor says. "Do not let your troubles come to you before sleep, yes?"

Jayce can tell Viktor is upset with him, that he thinks Jayce did the wrong thing. And he can also tell Viktor is being delicate with it. He has a sick suspicion as to why.

Jayce starts to feel the medicine take root.

"Are you about to sleep?"

"Mhmm."

"I hope it is peaceful for you."

He succumbs to drowsiness, only to be awoken by the sound of Viktor bringing some sort of crate into his room. He frowns at the sight, but he's too exhausted to give it too much thought.

He swears, at one point, he feels a soft, achingly long press of trembling lips on his forehead. He feels something wet drip along his hairline. Once. Twice. And then the sensation is gone.

·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.

When he wakes, he sees the crate Viktor left on the table. He feels bile rise in his throat as dread overtakes him. He walks to the crate like he's being led on a string.

He opens the lid.

It's as if the tides have stopped. As if the planet has stopped moving. He figured this would happen. He just did not think it would happen so soon, and he did not think it would happen like this.

Inside the crate is what he guesses to be around 50 bottles of sleep tonic. Each bottle should last him around a year. It's easily enough to last him the rest of his life.

Viktor didn't need to leave a note. This tells him all he needs to know.

Viktor is gone, and he isn't coming back.