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Chapter Text

The sway of the ship was far from coaxing. Having only been on it for less than a week, Jayce had not yet developed his sea legs. He groans, hefting himself out of bed. Sparing a glance out the tiny porthole, Jayce realizes that, similarly to the last three days he’d been on the godsforsaken boat, he has no idea where he is.

Taking shaky steps that slowly grow more confident, he makes it to his door. After steadying himself against the wall, Jayce tries the handle. Locked. Of course. Though unsurprised, Jayce lets out a grunt of frustration, resting his head against the door. 

He hears a low mewing sound, and looks up to find the cabin cat had jumped onto his bed. The cat was calico, mainly white with orange and brown splotches. Jayce takes the few steps needed to cross his small room and flop onto his bed, being careful of the cat, who makes an indignant noise at her resting place being shaken.

Jayce holds his hand out to the cat, letting her smell his hand before she butts it with her head. Letting out a soft chuckle, Jayce reaches between her four ears and begins to scratch- four ears. The cuddly -yet cautious- cat fascinated Jayce. He had read about them when he had lived in the castle- a mutation caused by recessive gene traits, and incredibly rare. What seemed from afar to be a fair amount of fur coming from inside each ear was revealed up close to be a second ear nestled inside the first. Jayce lets out a sigh. This was exactly the kind of thing he might have loved to study when he was living in the castle. If only he had access to the library-

His musings are interrupted by a purring, and he smiles down at the little cat. He had been told the name of the animal, but couldn’t for the life of him remember it. The cat had been nudged into the cabin with him after his escape attempt. To ‘watch over him’ or something of the sort. All he could remember was the lilting, accented voice that had said it, and the golden eyes of the captain. Jayce was fucked.

Three Days Ago

  Jayce returned from the library in a hurry, throwing open the door to his room and slamming it behind him. He was late. Very late. Caitlyn was going to kill him. Sparing a glance at the elegant outfit laid out- pressed and clean- on his bed, he began to rip off his clothes. Oh, he was never going to hear the end of this. Hopping on one leg as he shed his trousers, he began to spiral. If Caitlyn didn’t kill him, his mom would. If Ximena didn’t kill him, Aunt- no, Queen Cassandra would. This was the biggest night of Caitlyn’s life, and he had been warned time and time again to be on time.

But time had simply- slipped away from him. It had a habit of doing that when Jayce occupied the library and the tiny study room connected to it. Or, as he lovingly referred to it, his lab. He was on the verge of a breakthrough- though, as his mother and Caitlyn relentlessly teased him, that was what he always said.

This time, though, he truly knew he was close. The stones he had carried closely since childhood had finally done… something. A tiny flash, no more than a spark, but still more than Jayce had seen from the glowing rocks in the years since he had moved into the palace with the resources necessary to truly begin his experimentation.

Even just thinking about his progress was enough to break through his anxieties and wrestle a smile onto his face. He could figure it out- a power source to enhance the Kingdom of Piltover. Maybe once he could prove himself to Queen Cassandra he could- what?

Yanking on his trousers and rushing through the buttons on his silken shirt, Jayce sighed. He didn’t even know what he wanted out of his success. It would help the people of Piltover, which was his main reason he was so devoted to his studies. Curiosity was another huge factor.  But Jayce couldn’t help but wonder if it would finally ease the tensions in the royal family. His aunt, Queen Cassandra, had never held him in the highest regard. Though, he supposed, that was to be expected- the bastard son of a runaway prince? Jayce may be a prince by blood, but that was in no way reflected by his treatment within the castle walls. As far as anyone but the Kiramman family knew, he was a scholar- the son of a friend of the Queen.

Shrugging on his tailcoat and buttoning the sleeves, Jayce’s fingers brushed his bracelet. A gift from his late father- a leather band with a blue crystal inlaid. Ignoring the accessories left for him on his bed, he traced his finger over the blue crystal with a smile. He heard a knock at the door, and his eyes snapped up to the mirror. He looked… good enough, he supposed- not that any eyes would be on him this evening. Jayce carded his fingers through his fair, furiously trying to make it presentable. He took a deep breath, then turned to the door.
“Yes?” he asked, opening the door with a smile plastered over his exhaustion. The knight that greeted him gave a stiff nod.

“You’re expected in the ballroom, Sir Talis,” a gruff voice explained. Jayce nodded, and turned back into his room to grab one of his precious stones, slipping it into his pocket. If the ball was as slow and uneventful as he expected it to be, he would have plenty of time to study it.

If.

He stepped out of his room, closing and locking the door behind him. Jayce followed the guard, keeping his head high and his shoulders back. Queen Cassandra’s words echoed in his mind-

You may not be so in legality , but you are a Kiramman . And while in this castle, you will act like it.

Nevermind that his father had cast aside the Kiramman name to elope with his mother. Though it occurred years before he was born, he remembered the story clearly. The crown prince, returning from a patrol around Piltover, stopped in his tracks by the smell of pastries wafting from a bakery and the sight of the beautiful woman who had made them. Rojan Kiramman had fallen for Ximena Talis. Hard. He had continued for weeks to make excuses for his many visits to the bakery, where he developed a friendship with Ximena, which eventually turned into something more. After months of secret courtship with Ximena, Rojan’s father had betrothed him to the princess of Noxus. Rojan had run to the bakery in tears, and fallen into his lover’s arms. He proposed to Ximena, then and there, in that little bakery, covered in the flour that had rubbed off of her apron. He professed his love, offering her his heart, even though he could not offer her a crown. She had taken his face in her hands, and the ring off of his finger, slipping it onto her own with a teary smile. They had run away that very night, never looking back.

After spending years together in a small town no one had heard of, they had Jayce. Despite the ring on Ximena’s finger, the two had never married. Knowing that the King had been searching for him- Rojan Kiramman, the crown prince- Rojan took upon himself Ximena’s name of Talis. As such, Jayce was given the name Jayce Talis. They lived in peace until Rojan’s untimely death- but that was another story.

Jayce blinked, realizing that he was standing outside of the ballroom, and had been so for… how long? Long enough that his escort had left him staring at the door. He took a deep breath, then nodded to the knight guarding the door.

The man opened it, allowing Jayce to slip into the massive ballroom through a discreet door close to the dais. The dais where, of course, King Tobias, Queen Cassandra, and Princess Caitlyn were seated. He swallowed his nerves, taking the few steps needed to kneel before them.

He could hear the party flowing around them, with the ball under way. With how everyone was mingling and Caitlyn was still seated upon the dais, Jayce noted that the Kirammans must not have made the commencement address yet. Thank the Gods.

“You may rise, Sir Talis,” the voice of the Queen noted, drawing the attention of very few. In a crowded ballroom with so much going on, no one yet cared about what occurred on the stage. Jayce rose. Cassandra beckoned him closer. Like a dog on a leash, Jayce went. Looking to the side, he saw that his mother had also drawn near. What… was going on?

“Jayce,” Queen Cassandra began, “you are late.”

He swallowed. “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. Time got away from me in my studies today and-”

The Queen held up a hand to stop him. “It is of no matter, Jayce. I have news.”

“News?” Jayce asked, bewildered.

“Yes. News,” she continued. “Tobias and I have been discussing something for a great while, and have determined that tonight will not just be about Caitlyn.”

Jayce’s jaw dropped in shock. Tonight was Caitlyn’s night. A celebration of her twenty-first birthday, and the ball during which she would choose a partner- someone to rule alongside her when her parents retired. Jayce’s father had been a special case, being betrothed to the then-Princess Ambessa of Noxus. His exemption was an effort to strengthen ties abroad. Caitlyn was to choose her partner tonight, as dictated by tradition. Princes and princesses from all over had been invited for her to meet- hopefully, by the end of the night, she will have chosen a suitor.

It was an old rule, one that Jayce was shocked Queen Cassandra had been so focused on upholding. Caitlyn, of course, had been a healthy dose of frustrated at the pressure and excited at meeting people from beyond the Kingdom of Piltover. Jayce glanced at his cousin, and was expecting to find anger at having to share her night. All he saw, however, was distress- and it appeared to be for him. What the fuck was going on?

“Apologies, Your Majesties,” Jayce continued slowly, “but I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean.”

“Tonight,” Cassandra said, quietly enough that only those on the dais could hear, “you will be declared a Kiramman.”

“What?” Jayce gasped. He looked to his mother in distress, but she would not meet his eyes. “Why? Why now?”

“Control yourself.” Cassandra chastised, clearly disappointed in his reaction. “You have been given an opportunity Jayce. You will be declared a Kiramman, and thus, an heir. You have been engaged to Princess Mel Medarda of Noxus.”

Jayce’s head was spinning. He felt as though he would faint. “Heir? Engaged? I don’t underst-”

“Jayce, you are smarter than this,” King Tobias spoke up. “You will marry Mel Medarda. For that, you need to be a Kiramman. You will do what your father did not, and become King Consort of Noxus, ensuring our ties to their Kingdom are ironclad. You do not have a choice. After Caitlyn has met the suitors and hopefully found one worthy of her, we will announce the… news.”

Jayce was still reeling. “Is this why you brought my mother and I here all those years ago? So you-”

“Could marry you off, yes,” Cassandra stated, sounding annoyed. “Keep up, Jayce. We certainly weren’t going to marry our Caitlyn off to the Noxian barbarians. This is the best thing that could have happened for the Kingdom of Piltover.”

“I- what about what’s best for me?” Jayce asked, eyes welling with tears.

“You?” Cassandra asked incredulously. Oh, she was angry now. “You are the bastard child of a dead prince.” Jayce flinched at her words. “You are lucky we even deemed to spare your life when Rojan died. We could so easily have killed you off -a threat to our very line- but instead we took in you and your mother.” She stood, and stepped towards Jayce, every bit as menacing as she had been when he arrived at the palace at twelve. She leaned in to whisper, “You will do as you are told, or we will have no use for you. Play your part Jayce, and play it well. Your future depends on it.”

She turned back to the throne, sitting straight-backed and met his eyes. She waved him away, with a forced grin. “This discussion is over. Enjoy the party.”

Jayce glanced around, but the only other one on the dais who would meet his eyes was Caitlyn. Even his own mother could not look at him. Caitlyn mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’, but Jayce held no animosity for her. He stared daggers at Cassandra, who returned his gaze with icy indifference. Jayce turned on his heel, and stalked off into the throng of people. Nudging past the countless suitors here to vie for Caitlyn’s attention, he finally reached an empty stretch of wall behind a pillar, hiding him from sight of the dais and most of the party.

Jayce breathed deeply, desperately trying to get a grip. Jayce furiously wiped at the tears that were now flowing freely down his face. He slumped against the wall behind him, his eyes screwed tight. He had known Cassandra to be cruel, especially when the moment called for it, but he had never imagined her to be heartless. Distantly, he heard Cassandra stand and give her address. As she announced the beginning of the ball and promised a surprise later, the attendees seemed to grow more and more excited. When Queen Cassandra said to “Let the Engagement Ball of Princess Caitlyn Kiramman commence,” Jayce realized that he was the ‘surprise for later.’ As Caitlyn stepped down from the dais to begin socializing with potential partners, looking resplendent and the picture-perfect princess in her stunning blue ballgown, he continued to spiral. How could they do this? he thought, I’ve been the perfect bastard. Jayce had treated Caitlyn like a sister. Had always stayed in line. All he had ever wanted was to improve the lives of Piltovians. He just wanted to stay in his lab and study his science and exist. He never wanted to be an heir.

He sat in the hallway for a long time. He stopped crying, and figured he must have run out of tears. Jayce hears songs come and go, but could not get his breathing under control. Anytime his breath steadied, his mind intervened, and he lost his breath again. Hours passed as he sat, tucked in the corner of the ballroom. As the night waned, a thought crossed Jayce’s mind. I never asked for this.  His tears renewed in full force.

“Am I interrupting?” lilted a voice nearby.

Jayce’s eyes shot open. He looked up to the voice that had interrupted his solitude. His jaw, for the second time that night, dropped. The man before him was stunning- truly otherworldly. He wore a deep green silken shirt with a few buttons undone, fastened with a black, leather corset. His slacks were also black, and billowed slightly before coming to rest where they were tucked into the top of his tall boots. One leg featured a brace that looked more like an accessory than a medical device. It attached to the man’s boot, and adorned his leg, with a convoluted gold mechanism at his knee, extending with metal bars and leather straps up his leg. The stranger gripped a cane that was rather thick, and had an interestingly shaped handle- it was clearly well-loved, as the leather wrappings on said handle were wearing thin. He wore a simple, golden necklace featuring a ring, and his hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, where blonde streaks peeked out from the underside. His skin was pale, but slightly flushed in the heat of the room. Jayce could see moles peeking out from his collar, up his neck, and leading to the two on his face- one above his mouth, and another under an eye. But his eyes- gods, his eyes. Jayce could write sonnets about the golden color and intensity they held. An intensity that was now trained on him.

He blinked furiously, trying in vain to rid himself of the evidence of his tears. He finally registered the man’s question. “Ah, of course not, sorry.” His voice was scratchy from disuse.

“Nothing to apologize for,” smiled the stranger. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Jayce answered. “I’ve received some… upsetting news.”

“I take it the news was unexpected?” the man asked, with a tilt of his head.

“Very,” Jayce sighed. He hoisted himself up, grunting at the effort. “I’m Jayce,” he said simply, offering his hand. The man took it.

“Nice to meet you Jayce. Are you also here to win the affections of Princess Kiramman?”

Jayce balked. “Gods, no. No no no.”
“One ‘no’ would have sufficed,” the stranger offers with a smirk. Jayce, despite his previous predicament, finds himself smiling.

“Sorry, it’s just,” he remembers the not-quite-lie he so often tells to explain his familiarity to the princess, “Caitlyn is like a sister to me.”

One of the man’s eyebrows raises. “On first-name basis with the princess? Well then, any tips to earning her affections?”

Jayce snorted. “Good luck,” he smirked, “She prefers princesses.”
The man’s other eyebrow joined the first. “Ah,” he noted. “Good to know. Will you excuse me for a moment?” He walked off in the direction of a pink haired woman in a navy suit. Jayce didn’t hear much, but heard the woman’s sharp ‘What? But I-’ and the man continued to say something else. She seemed to nod, and then made her way towards the crowd of those surrounding Caitlyn. The man returned to Jayce, leaning against the wall beside him.

“Playing matchmaker, are we?” Jayce asked with a smile.

The stranger just shrugged. “Thought if I had no chance, I might as well give a nudge to a friend who may. Have a chance, that is.”

Jayce smiled. “So you won’t be seducing anyone tonight?” Jayce asked.

“I did not say that,” the man said, eyes sliding to meet Jayce’s.

Jayce’s breath caught. He looked down at the man. He was slightly shorter than Jayce, but had the air of someone who could command a room. I would follow him into battle, Jayce thought. The music changed, and King Tobias announced the final dance of the night. The man pushed off of the wall, and held a hand out to Jayce. “Dance with me,” he said.

Jayce’s eyes widened. He wanted to. Gods, he wanted to. But with his new engagement…

Cassandra’s words echoed in his mind. “Play your part Jayce, and play it well. Your future depends on it.” He shakes his head.

“I… can’t,” he slowly says.

The man nods as if it were the answer he expected to hear. “Understood. Even if you were to eh- swing my way, I’m not the best dance partner-”

“No!” Jayce startled, grabbing the man’s slowly receding hand. “No, I want to! I actually, really do. And I do! Swing… your way, that is. But I can’t- I’m not… allowed.” He jerks his head in the direction of the dais. “They can’t see, it would-”

The man silenced Jayce by taking a step further into his personal space, in a low voice, purred “Who says they have to see?”

Jayce had no response to that. He looked into those golden eyes, and could do nothing but relent. If I’m to be engaged to a princess and carted off to Noxus, he thinks, I deserve at least one dance. Just a dance.

Jayce took the man’s outstretched hand, and the stranger shifted. He moved his cane into their grasp, so it was clutched between their joined hands, and placed his other hand on Jayce’s shoulder, shifting more weight onto him. Jayce’s other hand rested lightly on the man’s waist. “Is this okay?” Jayce asked softly, and the stranger nodded, his face a bit more flushed. The two didn’t do anything extravagant. They swayed side to side, step by step, turning slowly as their eyes connected. Jayce had always been instructed to avoid ‘romantic entanglements,’ which he now understood was to keep him single and ready for the Princess of Noxus. That said, he didn’t quite understand the feeling that swelled in him, but he recognized it from romance books. He wouldn’t say it was love at first sight, per se, but he certainly felt… enamoured by the stranger. As the song ended, the man bent and gave a light brush of his lips to Jayce’s knuckles. Jayce looked up, meeting his golden eyes, and breathed out, “I don’t even know your name.”

The man smiled.

“It’s Viktor.”

Just like that, he vanished into the crowd. Jayce heard the clamor of the partygoers as Caitlyn Kiramman ascended to the dais, the very picture of grace. He saw her lean in to speak to her parents, likely to convey whether or not she had found a suitor, but his line of sight was blocked by none other than Ximena Talis.

“Mijo, where have you been?” she asks, clearly distraught. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I was so worried you had gotten to that bad place again-”

Ah, Jayce thought, of course. “Mama, I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ve just been here the entire time. Trying to come to terms with the fact that I’ll soon be a prince and engaged.” He emphasizes the end, slightly frustrated. “I think that’s a reasonable thing to be frustrated about. I would tell you if things had gotten that bad again. Mama, is that why you didn’t tell me? You were scared I’d jump off a roof?” Jayce was angry, now. Though speaking in hushed tones, Ximena seemed to hear him loud and clear, stepping back slightly, her face softening.

“No mijo. No, they told me just before you got there. I had no say in the matter. I’m so sorry, corazón.” She said, wrapping him into a hug. No matter how big Jayce got, Ximena was always able to let him feel small again. “Jaycito, lo siento, but they want you up there for the announcement.”

Jayce sighed, offering his arm to his mother. She took it, and they walked through the quieting crowd of people. She let go as he reached the side of the stage. Cassandra made eye contact with him, and then with her daughter, before she stood.

“My daughter has chosen a suitor!” she announced happily. The crowd let loose several whoops and hollers, but with a raise of her hand, they fell silent. “Before we announce the one lucky enough to join our family, we must announce another Kiramman.” The crowd mumbled in confusion. “Jayce, come up here.”

Jayce blinked, and felt his legs move up the stairs to the dais, even though his mind was far away. He dropped to his knees before her. Jayce could hear the obvious smile in her voice when she told him to “Rise, child.”

Child? Jayce thought. I’m twenty-fucking-three. He rose, stumbling only a little, and muscled on a brave face that he hoped looked something close to regal. Cassandra turned to the crowd.

“Many of you know Sir Talis as the son of a friend of mine. In truth, he is much more.” Cassandra’s voice carried across the room. “Jayce’s mother, Ximena Talis, was a baker in town square. His father, however, was my brother, Rojan Kiramman.” Murmurs throughout the crowd grew louder. “As the son of the late crown prince, Jayce is an heir to the Kiramman line, and as such, inherits the Kiramman name. Hence forth, he will receive all the liberties, titles, and respect befitting his station.” Murmurs turned to outright shouting, as indignant nobles began to yell. Some questioned the legitimacy of his lineage, as he looked every bit Ximena’s boy, and very little like Rojan. Others demanded why the news had been kept from them, and some just shouted to shout. Jayce took a step back, but Queen Cassandra’s eyes snapped to him. Don’t show weakness, they said.

Cassandra, it seemed, was fed up. Turning back to the crowd, she yelled, “SILENCE. I will hear no more of this. His lineage is indisputable, and any further discussions otherwise will be considered slander against the crown.” The hall went silent. Motioning to someone off the dais, Cassandra smiled. A knight hurried up with a cushion, and when they neared, Jayce could see a simple crown resting on it. He breathed deeply, for the first time realizing that this was real. He kneeled as Cassandra took the crown, settling it on his head gracefully but none too gently. Turning to the crowd, Queen Cassandra declared “I present to you, Prince Jayce Kiramman. Future King Consort of Noxus.”

Now that got people talking. Jayce stood, turning to the audience, and was attacked by a wall of sound. Some clapped, others spoke loudly, both in support and otherwise about what this meant for the future of Piltover. Overall, it was too much. He was about to turn and bow one last time to Cassandra, eager to escape the spotlight, before a sound rung through the air.

BANG.

Everyone went silent- some with fear, others confusion. From his spot on the dais, Jayce could clearly see where the thin line of smoke traced back to, and the man who held his gun still high in the air. He now wore a hat, the wear and tear of which indicated it was clearly well-worn. Scraps of colorful fabric hung from it like a tail, making it seem more like a piece of art than a hat. However, there was no denying the type of hat- a pirate hat. The man looked up, and his eyes were trained on Jayce. Golden eyes.

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. Viktor.

“While this,” lilted the familiar, accented voice, “has been very entertaining, I’m afraid I have business to attend to.”

Cassandra’s voice, clear despite her obvious distress, shouted, “Guards!”

But none came. As Jayce looked around, he noticed the guards were already there- slumped against the walls or throughout the room, as though they had all been taken out at once, with no perpetrators in sight.

Viktor snorts. “You insult my intelligence, Cassandra. However, I fear we have a score to settle. Even if you manage to kill me, I have various friends around the room who could do quite a bit of harm.”
The Queen scowls, “How dare you?” Viktor gives a casual shrug.

“Unless you would like all those here to know what happens under the shimmering light, I suggest you give me what I want.”

Caitlyn turns to her mother, who had gone pale. “Mother, what is he talking about?”
Jayce mumbled, “Quiet, Sprout,” before instinctively stepping in front of her. Tobias stepped up to Cassandra, and asked the same thing, but she shook her head. The entire hall waited with baited breath. Cassandra was still pale, and yet, seemed to be weighing her options in her mind. Viktor seemed calm, the very picture of unbothered as he waited for her to make her decision.

Cassandra finally, it seems, made up her mind. “What do you want?” she asked softly. This sent a wave of murmurs throughout the crowd. What could be so dire that she would bargain with a pirate?

“Not much,” Viktor smiled, clearly pleased to be getting what he wanted. “Not compared to all that you have. To pay retribution for the damages, and as a price for our silence, I’d reckon an amount of about… 100,000 gold.” Jayce’s face paled. He had never even heard of such a large sum.

“No,” Cassandra states, clearly having regained her confidence. “And no one would trust whatever lies a pirate has to spill anyway.”

“Ah, but Cassandra,” Viktor smiles, “You hesitated. That is enough for everyone to want to know what skeletons lurk in your closets. And what interesting skeletons they are- they don’t paint a pretty picture, your majesty.”

Cassandra’s eyes close. She seems to be steeling herself. She opens her eyes, locking them with golden ones across the room. “We don’t have it,” she whispers.

Viktor lets out a cold chuckle, buckling over in laughter. He leans heavily on his crane, gripping his side as he cackles. It takes a moment, but he finally stands, wiping away a tear, “Forgive me, I thought you had just said you don’t have it,” he snickered.

“We don’t.” Cassandra looked truly afraid now. "We don’t have the sum in full. If you give me time, I can get it to you-”

She is cut off by a sigh from the man with the gun. “I had hoped it would not come to this. Must I find a way to motivate you more viscerally? Violet.”

A rustle of movement behind him makes Jayce whip around, but he is too late. The pink haired woman holds a knife to the neck of the princess, with a low mutter of “Sorry cupcake.”

Jayce startles, with a shout of “SPROUT!” Despite his cousin being only feet away from him, there was nothing he could do with the knife to Caitlyn’s neck. Cassandra’s eyes dart to the scene behind her, then back to Viktor. Then, she did something Jayce could never have imagined. She fell to her knees, and begged.

“Please- I don’t. Truly, I do not have the sum! Don’t hurt her, don’t hurt my daughter, I beg of you! She is innocent-”

“- As were the countless people harmed by your actions. I do not wish to harm your daughter Cassandra. I only wish to be paid what I am owed.” Viktor sounds almost bored.
“PLEASE!” Cassandra screeches, “I’ll do anything! I do not have it! But I can get it! Give me a year, and I can gather the money, please!”
Viktor seems disgusted at the display. “How pathetic,” he breathes. “And how the mighty have fallen. Now you leave it to me, once again, to solve the problems you have created.” He stands for a moment, clearly thinking. After a few moments, he lets out a sigh. “What a mess you have made. I will give you six months to collect what I am owed-”

“Six MONTHS?” Cassandra gasps incredulously. “That’s not possible-”
“Need I remind you Cassandra,” Viktor drawls, “that I do not care? This is my mercy. You do not want to see my cruelty.” This shuts her up. He continued, “Six months, Cassandra. 100,000 in gold. No less. I did not expect to leave without the money, so to ensure my safe departure and provide you motivation to make due on your promise, I will take with me your heir.”

Jayce reeled. They couldn’t take Caitlyn- she was barely old enough to marry! He looked from Caitlyn to Viktor, but both of their eyes were trained on him. Why would they be looking at-

Oh. Jayce was now an heir. Mierda.

He looked up to Cassandra, expecting her to plead or bargain. They had never been close, but she needed him for the Noxus deal, and at the end of the day, they were family-

“Deal.”

Cassandra’s voice sealed his fate. He heard a shriek off to his right, and watched his mother drop to the floor in agony, inconsolable and barely held back from the stage by two well-meaning women of the gentry.

During what functioned as a wonderful distraction, Jayce heard a slam, then a loud “OW!” and turned to see Caitlyn had headbutted the woman behind her and stood to push him forward.

“Jayce, RUN!” She pushed him to the edge of the stage, but stopped when she looked over his shoulder. Viktor was standing directly in front of them, with a pirate on each side. All three had swords drawn. Viktor’s, Jayce noted, had been drawn from the recesses of his cane. Clever. He would have commented such had the sword not been pointed directly at his heart.

Caitlyn tried to drag him back, but the pink haired girl- Violet, Jayce remembers, had regained her focus, and now was thoroughly pissed, and still holding a dagger. All were at a standstill.

“Jayce,” an accented voice spoke. It wasn’t loud, but it carried through the room. “Step down from the dais. You are coming with us. Unless you want to join him, Miss Kiramman, I suggest you step aside.” King Tobias lunged, grabbing Caitlyn’s arm and pulling her, struggling, out of the middle of the scuffle- away from Jayce. Violet and Viktor seemed unperturbed- she was not the target, after all. Jayce turned to Caitlyn.

“See you in six months, Sprout,” he smiled. He stepped down from the dais. His mother was three feet from him- three footsteps away, but Violet poked a dagger into Jayce’s back.

“Keep walking, pretty boy,” she grunted, through the hand stemming the blood flowing from her nose. Jayce would forever be proud of Caitlyn for that.

Taking a small step forward, away from Violet’s dagger and into the circle of the other three pirates, he turned over his shoulder. “Mama!” he spoke, hoping she would hear him over her own sobs. They stopped immediately, and her eyes snapped up to meet his. There was too much to say. Everything, and nothing at all, but all Jayce could come up with was “Te amo.”

He lowered his head as a member of Viktor’s crew clipped a set of handcuffs onto his wrists, grabbed the chain leash it connected to, and yanked him forward. Jayce stumbled, but followed. He was escorted out of the ballroom. The further they walked- through the castle, out the front door, past the gardens, into town, and onto the docks- the more pirates joined them. By the time they reached the ship, there were about thirty people surrounding him in what looked like a funeral procession for the living. As he walked down the dock, he took in the sheer size of the ship- it was huge. Clearly old, and yet, sturdy and in seemingly wonderful condition. The sails unfurled as they approached, and Jayce could barely make out the tilted script on the side of the ship. Querida del Zaun.

He walked up the ramp onto the ship, still in a daze. Viktor began yelling orders, and the crew responded quickly and in a clearly practiced manner. Before he knew it, the ship was pulling away from the dock. The man holding his chain yanked Jayce in a direction, trying to lead him somewhere, but Jayce had been so distracted by the happenings of the ship that he fell to his knees.

The man grunted, “Fuckin’ piltie, come on, I’m not gonna drag ya.”

The impact of Jayce’s knees hitting the floor lit up his pain receptors in a way that previous adrenaline had prohibited. Now that the gates were open, however, they wouldn’t close. What began as a sniffle turned into tears, which turned into body-wracking sobs. Once they were far enough from the harbor, his guard deemed it safe enough to abandon his leash, leaving Jayce to sob in the corner of the deck. Everyone just… left him alone.

“Am I interrupting?” came a familiar voice.

Anger overrode the grief, and Jayce’s neck snapped out of where it had been buried in his bound hands. “Fuck you,” he snarled at the golden-eyed man. He was no longer a stranger, but with his actions in the ballroom, he might as well have been.

Viktor sighed, “I expected as much. Come on, let’s get you to your room.”

Jayce wanted to spit at Viktor, wanted to scream and cry and make his life a living hell. But slowly, he realized it wouldn’t do a thing. He was on a boat, now miles from shore, surrounded by people he did not know nor trust. There was nothing left for him. Swatting away the hand offered to help him up, he slowly and shakily got to his feet and followed Viktor.

Viktor led him to a small cabin off the main hallway. It was tiny, but had a simple mattress and some blankets. Jayce sat down on the floor. He was more than tired now- he was exhausted. Viktor, seemingly recognizing his guest’s disassociation, undid the metal around Jayce’s wrists. Though mentally elsewhere, Jayce rubbed his wrists in relief. Viktor said something about food, then left the cabin, locking the door behind him.

He returned in what felt to Jayce like seconds later, with water and a meager amount of food on a plate. He set them down next to Jayce, along with- a cat? Jayce’s surprise momentarily stunned him out of the depths of his mind.
“This is Rio,” Viktor said softly, “she’ll keep you company for a while, make sure you don’t try to escape again. Please eat.” He rose with difficulty, joints making several popping noises, crossed the small space to the door, and paused before leaving. For a moment, Viktor seemed to fight with whether or not to say something. He finally spoke. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry Jayce.” He closed the door behind him, and Jayce heard the lock click shut.

He pushed away the food and water, shucked his outerwear, crown clattering to the floor, and bundled up in the bed as best he could. He continued to softly cry, tears streaking down his cheeks. The cat, whose name he had already forgotten, watched him from across the room. Jayce pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

And that was how he stayed for three days.

Chapter Text

VIKTOR-

Well, fuck.

Viktor hadn’t wanted this. Viktor hadn’t planned for this. He had observed every possible foreseeable outcome, had drafted eight different escape routes and five different ways to infiltrate the castle. What he hadn’t planned for was the rulers of the Kingdom of Piltover to be FUCKING BROKE?!

He needs a drink. Hell, he needs a lot of drinks. He thinks to the bottle of whiskey sitting in the bottom drawer under his bed, before deciding against it. He was saving it for a good time, and the current situation was about as far from ‘a good time’ as one could get. He sits at his desk in the Captain’s quarters and rubs his temples. Leaning back in the chair (which he had tipped several times by doing just that), he decides to mentally take stock.

He did not get the 100,000 in gold he had planned. Thus, they wouldn’t be able to easily replenish the supplies and rations they spent getting to Piltover. His crew was in a state of unrest at their new member, even though he had spent the past three days hidden away, locked in his room. Oh, right, the new member. THEY KIDNAPPED A FUCKING PRINCE. Janna, his fathers were not going to be happy about that. He knew he wasn’t.

Viktor’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock that he had come to recognize distinctly as belonging to his first mate. “Violet, come in,” he offers.

She opens the door and takes the few steps necessary to collapse into the chair across from Viktor’s desk. Vi lets out a grunt, finally looking towards Viktor. “Welp,” she says, “that plan went to shit.”

Viktor snorts. “Thank you, Vi. I can always trust you to state the obvious.” Vi chuckles. They bask for a moment in relative silence. While Viktor was entirely comfortable with silence, he knew Vi couldn’t stand the quiet. He looked up to see her squirming in her chair. He sighs, moving his ledgers to the side so he could lean across the desk. “Alright, what is it?”

“Are we doing the right thing?” She blurts. “I know we all agreed that the Kirammans need to pay ‘cause they’re pieces of shit and what they did hurt like, fuckin’ everyone in Zaun- but pretty boy has nothing to do with that. Hell, he wasn’t even a royal until three days ago!” Vi seemed relatively distressed, which Viktor noted as being quite out of character for her.

Viktor meets her eyes, and takes a moment to think about what she had said. His favorite technique in stressful situations was avoidance, but it seemed the issue had been eating Vi from the inside- out. “It is not ideal, that is for sure,” he starts. “I am well aware of the prince’s innocence in the matter, but Cassandra wouldn’t have willingly given her daughter-” Viktor notes a flush on Vi’s cheeks at the mention of the Kiramman princess, “- and the Kirammans need Jayce for the Noxus deal. We will keep him comfortable and safe for the next six months, and then we’ll return to collect our dues.”

Violet tilts her head, looking at Viktor weird, seemingly scanning his face for something, before a smile slowly creeps across her face. “Oh you like him.”

Viktor sputters, “I do not!” Vi’s smile grows, which must mean his face is bright red.

“Oh you like like him!” She snorts, “Never thought I’d see the day my sibling would swoon for a piltie! And a royal one at that!”

“I could say the same about you and your cupcake,” Viktor smirks, noting how Vi’s face grows hot at the allusion to a certain navy-haired princess.

She gets up from her chair and flops onto Viktor’s bed. “Dads are gonna kill us,” she declares, as though it’s an indisputable fact. Maybe it is. Viktor grimaces. Their shared contemplation of the impending doom is interrupted by a knock. Before Viktor can invite the newcomer in, a head peeks through the door.

“Hey, uh, Cap?” asks a hesitant voice.

“Yes, Ekko?” Viktor sits up, shifting from sibling mode to Captain in a blink.

“There’s something wrong in the engine room- the steam from the boiler is putting too much pressure on the accelerator, and-”

“Ekko,” Vi interrupts. “V’s smart, you don’t have to explain. Cut to the gist.”

Ekko’s eyes dart to Vi, having just realized she was in the room with them, then back to Viktor himself. “Long story short, we lost two valves and a main steam pipe,” Ekko says. “They’re irreparable- I’ve tried to fix them, but nothing works. We need to get replacements. Urgently.”

As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

Viktor pulls a map from his desk’s drawer and smoothes it across his desk. He pulls a compass from a pocket, setting it on the map’s corner. After doing a few quick mental calculations, he plots their current approximate place on the map with a tiny model of a boat.

“Okay,” Viktor breathes. “Change of plans- we’re too far from Zaun. It’d take us a week to get there relying only on our sails.” Ekko approaches the desk, double checking the calculations and nodding along. “We could dock at Indigas, but after what happened the last time we were there, I don’t think they’d be too happy to see us.” Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor sees Ekko cringe.

Violet chirps up from her place on the bed, now entertaining herself by spinning her dagger across her fingers, “How ‘bout Marrin? We haven’t been there in a while, Powder doesn’t have an arrest warrant there yet, and it’s close enough to where I’m guessing we are now.”
Ekko and Viktor look up, meeting each others’ eyes. No matter how often she displayed it, Vi’s impeccable sense of direction never ceased to impress Viktor. Ekko seemed similarly shocked. They looked down at the map- Vi was right. She often is. Violet is truly her fathers’ daughter- a natural-born sailor.

It was a part of the reason Viktor had chosen her as his first mate when he took over the Querida del Zaun all those years ago. Violet was a natural sailor, relatively responsible (when the situation called for it), was easily respected by her fellow crewmates, and loyal to a fault. Viktor and Vi may not always agree, as they were both incredibly capable of being ‘stubborn stupid-heads’ (as Powder put it)- but at the end of the day, they cared for each other, and there was no one Viktor would trust more to take over for him were he to fall in battle. Viktor smiles. “Marrin it is.” He rolls up the map, sliding it back into its drawer. Ekko recedes, and offers his thanks as he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

The door is immediately slammed back open, and a blue blur skips into the Captain’s quarters. Powder jumps onto Viktor’s desk, just as she had always done in their father’s office back home. “Hiya V!” she smiles, giddy.

‘Hello, Powder,” Viktor greets. “It seems everyone wants to talk to me today.”
“Well, ya don’t kidnap a prince every day!” She offers cheerily. It had been a few days since the revenge-turned-kidnapping mission went afoul, but with how busy everyone had been, it seemed everyone had decided that now was the perfect time to confront Viktor about it. “You know our dads are gonna kill us, right?” Vi groans from her spot on the bed. Powder peeks over to where the noise came from. “Heyya Hamhands! You seemed to have fun dancing with the princess the other night! Even before the knives were involved!”

Vi points at Viktor indignantly, “He made me!” Viktor chuckles, earning the attention of both girls. “My dance was for the mission! I don’t hear you gettin’ on Vik for dancing with pretty boy!” Viktor grimaces, caught. Powder turns to him, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You danced with the prince?! Willingly?” Powder asked.

“He wasn’t a prince when I danced with him!” Viktor countered, trying in vain to defend himself. “Okay, I don’t need this, both of you, out!”

The girls smiled to each other, both clearly proud of having gotten under Viktor’s skin. Vi hauls herself off the bed, leaving the door open behind her for Powder to follow. “Come on Pow-Pow,” she yawns, likely on her way to her own bed.

“Yeah Vi, one minute,” she calls. Powder turns back to Viktor. He can tell from her eyes that her singsongy, joking manner is gone- set aside to discuss something serious. “About the prince,” she starts, “you should know that Josh-”

“Jayce,” Viktor interrupts.

“Whatever. Jayce-” Powder continues, “he hasn’t been eating. Everyday I unlock his door, let Rio out for a bit, pick up the old plates and drop off a meal, just like ya told me to. His food is untouched every time- even Claggor’s meat pie!” Viktor frowns. He knew Jayce hadn’t arrived in the best conditions, but it had been three days. “You need to talk to him.”

Viktor sighs. He had been sighing a lot lately. “I know,” he concedes. “I will. Just… tomorrow.” Powder thinks for a second, then nods, seeming to accept his answer for now. She hops off of the desk, and skips to the door.

“V?” she asks. Viktor looks up. “It’ll be okay.”
Viktor smiles, the tension in his shoulders loosening the slightest bit. “Thank you, gun-pow,” he manages.

Powder smiles at the nickname and leaves the Captain's cabin, closing the door behind her. Viktor notes a bit of mischief to her smile, but disregards it. Powder’s entire being radiated chaos and mischief, so it was likely nothing. He groans as he pushes his chair back from the desk and stretches out his legs. Viktor leans forward, reaching for the brace on his right leg. He unclasps the section around his knee, allowing him enough access to rub it side to side, attempting in vain to relieve the tension. Viktor’s leg had been bothering him lately, but oddly enough, he tended to have better balance on the sea than on shore. He groans, feeling a painful twinge in his back from leaning over. He just couldn’t win.

Sitting back up, Viktor runs his fingers through his hair, catching lightly on the tangles and charms that it held. He gathers it all together at the base of his neck, and holds it with one hand as he rustles through his desk drawer to find a hair tie. He lets out a sound of elation at finding it. Next to the hair tie sits the ring that had hung on his necklace two nights ago. He stares at it, letting his hair fall gently from his grasp and across his shoulders.

Viktor’s thoughts strayed to a little boy half a lifetime ago, on a stormy night. An exchange made, a life saved, a boy and a girl. The boy promising to one day find the girl to finalize said exchange. Viktor sighed. That little boy would never know that the girl he had promised to find was never a girl at all- if the boy even remembered Viktor. He felt foolish- carrying a ring for years because of a promise from over a decade ago. But then- when he had looked into those hazel eyes, it felt a little less impossible. It couldn’t be… could it?

JAYCE-

Jayce laid upside down on his mattress, his butt on his pillow, legs up the wall, and arms spread wide. The adorable menace on his chest had kept him hostage there for the past hour. Was it possible to be a double hostage? Jayce asked himself. Does that make me a hostage squared? The cat growled when he tried to move, and gave soft purrs when he stayed still and offered her head scritches. Jayce concluded that whoever she belonged to must be in the habit of spoiling the cat rotten. He takes a deep breath, watching the cat ascend with his chest, before letting out the breath and watching the cat descend. He caught himself thinking, the things the human mind does to entertain itself…

He laughed at how bored he had to be to think of studying the concept of boredom. He stretched, extending his arms and hands wider. One of his fingers brushed his tailcoat on the floor, exactly where he had left it, shucked off of his shoulders in a hurry after what was easily the most exciting ball he’d ever been to- for better or for worse. Jayce hooks it with a finger before tugging the coat up to his eyes, wondering if it would somehow help to pass the time. Maybe he could count the number of buttons. Or use it to block the light and take a nap. Or maybe he left a piece of candy in the pocket or something-

His fingers in the pocket brush across the cool feel of stone. Jayce rockets to a seated position, and the cat jumps off just as quickly, clearly angry at her bed moving without her permission. Jayce mumbles a ‘sorry’ to the cat, and yanks the blue crystal out of its prior hiding place in his pocket. He lets out an incredulous laugh to himself- he had a stone! He had nothing to test it with, but maybe he could use his dinner utensils to try and chip a piece off or something.

As if summoned by his thoughts of dinner, he hears the doorknob rattle, before the lock is undone. Jayce hurriedly shoves the stone under his pillow- he didn’t know much about pirates, but he knew that anything valuable would be better off hidden. The door creaks open, and Jayce glances up, expecting to see the rambunctious woman with a cheery smile skip into his room, braids swinging.

Instead, he sees… a child?

“Um… hi?” Jayce offers. What the fuck was a child doing on a pirate ship?!? The little girl doesn’t respond. The cat, however, does. She jumps up, running over to nose at the girl’s lowered hand. Jayce tilted his head, bewildered. The girl let the cat walk by her, rubbing against her legs while doing so, and reached behind her. She picked up what seemed to be a steaming bowl of food. Jayce’s mouth watered at the smell. Janna, it smelled delicious. Just like everything else the damn pirates had sent. But instead of giving in to the growlings of his stomach, he watches the girl curiously. She still hadn’t said a word. She lets herself in, and tries to hand the bowl to Jayce, but he doesn't accept it. She looks at him weirdly. The girl glances to the side, seeing the full plate from yesterday’s meal still sitting on the floor. She sets the new bowl down next to the old plate, then lets out a grunt. Meeting Jayce’s eyes, she begins to move her hands.

Why aren’t you eating? She signs.

  Jayce’s eyes light up, before he slowly signs back, Not hungry. The girl watches his hands move with what looked like surprise.

You sign? She asks.

Why would you ask me a question if you didn’t think I could sign? Jayce responds with a smile. The girl huffs, then shrugged. What’s your name? Jayce asks.

I-s-h-a, the girl responds, before showing him her sign name- the letter ‘I’ on each hand, used as bunny ears. You?

J-a-y-c-e, he spells. He shows her his own sign name- the letter ‘J’ signed, then used as a hammer. She nods to herself as if his answer was satisfactory. Jayce’s eyes light up, and he waves a hand in front of her to regain her attention. The cat? He asks.

Isha smiles. R-i-o.

“RIO,” Jayce almost shouts. THAT is his furry friend’s name! He repeats it to himself a few times, trying to ingraine it into his memory. Isha looks at him oddly.

Why do you sign? She asks. Jayce smiles softly.

My dad was deaf, he pauses, seeing Isha make the ‘same’ sign, before continuing, and I lost half of my hearing in a forge accident when I was little. Isha nods. Surprising Jayce, she sits down on the bed next to him. 

Even more surprisingly, she leans into him. Resting her tiny head on his huge shoulder, Isha signs, Please eat.

Jayce sighs. Finally, he picks up the bowl. He puts the spoon in, and holds it out in front of his mouth for a moment, pausing, eyebrows furrowed.

Isha rolls her eyes. We didn’t poison it, she signs. You’re no use to us dead, dummy.

Jayce laughs. He puts the spoon back into the bowl to sign with one hand, I didn’t think you had poisoned it, but now…

Isha shoves him, and Jayce laughs. He sighs, then signs, I don’t eat well when I’m stressed.

Isha nods wisely. Is being kidnapped stressful?

Jayce smiles. Yeah, just a bit. He slowly lifts the spoon to his mouth, and finally takes a bite. The flavors explode in his mouth- creamy chicken, and a million spices he didn’t know the names of. His eyes widen, and he has to set the bowl down and use both hands to sign, Holy shit.

Isha giggles. Jayce picks the bowl back up and begins to scarf it down. He’s stopped about halfway through the bowl by a poke in his side. He turns to Isha and she drags one hand across her arm, signing SLOW.

Jayce grumbles, but listens. After two full days without food, it’s probably not the best idea to inhale his soup, especially with how rich it is. Isha smiles. After a few more bites, the doorknob rattles, and Jayce looks up. Following the movement of his attention, Isha’s head snaps to the door too. A blue head of hair with two long braids peeks in through the door.

“You got him to eat?” She asks, signing while speaking. “Good work, kiddo.”

Isha stands and takes a bow. Jayce balks.”You got a kid to guilt trip me into eating?” He asks, furiously signing as speaking his words. The blue-braided girl looks surprised at his quick-moving hands, but smiles and says nothing.

“It worked, didn’t it?” She lets herself in, flopping onto the floor across from Jayce and sticking out a hand. “I’m Powder, nice to meetcha!”

Taking the hand with a reluctant, but real, smile, Jayce offers. “Jayce. But you probably already knew that.” The girl shrugs.

“Not really. Vik hasn’t said much these last few days, everyone’s been busy. And Vi only calls you ‘pretty boy,’ so I’ve been mentally calling you ‘Josh.’”

Isha snorts. Jayce looks between the two, noting a familiarity in mannerisms, but no familial resemblance. “Is Isha yours?”

Powder smiles, ruffling Isha’s hair. “Yup!” She proudly declares. “I mean, I didn’t pop her out myself, but she’s been with me since she was three, so that’s like… what, kid?” Isha quickly does the math, holding up six fingers. “Yeah, six or so years of being this one’s mom.”

Jayce smiled at the interactions between the two. Cute, he signs. Powder smiles.

“Well Jayce,” she grunts, standing up, “want a tour of the Querida del Zaun?”

Jayce looks from Powder to Isha in incredulity. “That’s allowed?” he asks.

Powder only shrugs. “I’ve never been one for rules. Besides, you didn’t think we were gonna keep you in here for six months straight, right?”

“Well…” Jayce starts, looking over to the three tally marks scratched into the wall.

“Dear Janna,” Powder says, burying her face in her hands. Then, her head snaps up. “Wait. You haven’t left this room in three days,” she pauses at Jayce’s nod. “Don’t you need to use the bathroom?” Jayce laughs.

“Desperately.”

After Powder had shown him to a room where he could relieve himself and wash up with a wet cloth (both, for the first time in days), Jayce felt much more human. She had left him some clothes after explaining that the ones he wore from the ball “Absolutely stink. I’ll steal some clothes from Claggor. No one’s as tall as you, but he's probably close enough…” Jayce pulls the tan linen shirt on over his head, mentally noting how soft it is, and leaving the strings at the front open. He then slips on the pants Powder left for him. They barely make it to his ankles, but they’re flowy and comfortable, and he’s never been one to complain. He exits the bathroom to find Isha waiting for him, but no sign of Powder.

Should we go find your mom? He signs, leaning down a bit. Isha nods, then holds out her hand. Jayce just stares, confused. Was she… asking for something? He wracks his brain, but genuinely cannot think of what he would have that she would want. As he spirals, Isha rolls her eyes and grabs one of his hands, tugging him down the hallway. Oh, Jayce thinks, this is nice. He lets out a laugh with how tall he is and how short Isha is, he has to lean down just to reach her hand, even while walking. They must make for an absolutely hilarious sight. A huge man with no idea where he’s going, having to rely on directions from a tiny nine-year-old.

Isha leads him down a hall, and around a corner, and up a few stairs, where they step up into the blinding daylight. Jayce shields his eyes, having not been so immersed in sunlight for a while. The first thing Jayce notices before regaining his vision is the smell of the ocean air- salty, but so incredibly fresh. He takes a deep breath, furiously blinking to coax his eyes into adjusting faster. Isha lets go of his hand, and Jayce’s eyes finally allow him to see a tiny figure run and throw herself into the arms of a colorful blue blob. He blinks a bit more, and everything comes into focus.

The ship is much larger than what he had previously thought. Across the huge deck, fifteen or so crewmates mill about, seemingly all doing different chores or jobs. Jayce looks about, before realizing that he had been scanning for golden eyes and a cane, and then cursing himself for doing so. Powder walks up to him, Isha on one hip, before linking an arm through one of his, saying “Come on big guy, I’ll give you the tour!”

Jayce smiles, not so much ‘following’ as ‘being dragged,’ but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Powder seems, no pun intended, like a loose cannon, and Jayce smiles at the chaotic nature she seems to embrace. It’s so very different than all the prim and proper and stoicism and elegance and shove-your-feelings-down-so-no-one-sees-them that he’s used to in the palace, and he loves it.

They start where they had emerged from the bowels of the ship, on the main deck. Powder shows him the different masts, teaching him what each sail is called and what it does. She points out the different ropes, commenting which ones you definitely should not pull. Each time they pass a crewmember, Powder easily introduces them. Jayce panics a bit every time he meets a new person, but everyone seems… casual. A few even apologize for kidnapping him, which is enough to make Jayce laugh and dismiss it as “water under the bridge… or, uh, ship, I guess.”

Powder shows him the cannons, and tells him each of their names. She explains that as the head of the armory and ammunition, she’s responsible for her “iron beauties,” which apparently includes naming them and assigning them each personalities. Jayce chuckles as Powder explains the drama she created between each cannon (Jonathan had apparently cheated on Lizzy with Paul, but only Stan knew). Jayce finds himself even more fascinated as Powder explains the inner workings of the cannons- she points out the fuse, the powder, how to load them, etc. At one point, Jayce asks Powder if her name was a reference to her position on the ship. She looked him up and down, before smiling slyly and teasingly whispering, “You’ll never know.” Isha only rolls her eyes.

They climb the stairs to the quarter deck, and Powder points out the steering wheel. She offers to let Jayce ‘have a go,’ and Jayce just knows his eyes have lit up like a kid’s in a candy shop. He reaches for the wheel, before he hears a yell.

“POWDER!” Jayce freezes when he spots a familiar head of pink hair. His eyes snap to Powder, but she seems unbothered.

“UP HERE, VI!” she calls. Jayce looks at her frantically, and Powder meets his eyes, seeing the panic in them. “You’ll be fine. I’m the one who hauled you out of the room.” Jayce nods.

“Powder, have you seen-” Vi makes it to the top deck, and her eyes glance over Powder before landing on Jayce. “Ah. Well, that answers that question.” She smiles awkwardly, scratching her nape in embarrassment. They’re at a quiet standstill, until Isha stomps her foot on the ground to call attention to herself.

She holds Violet’s gaze, even from where she stands (so low to the ground that Jayce has to crane his neck). Be nice. She signs. Apologize, Aunt Vi. Isha’s sign name for Violet turns out to be the sign for ‘purple,’ but with a ‘V’ instead of a ‘P.’ Clever, Jayce thinks.

Violet sighs, speaking and signing, “I was about to!” She turns to Jayce, saying “I’m sorry I threatened your sister and kidnapped you… at knife point.” Jayce balks at how genuine she sounds, even with words he’d never thought he’d hear together in a sentence. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. But the Captain made a call, and we gotta follow it.” She shrugs, “Doesn’t make it right, or fair to you. But for what it’s worth, pretty boy, I’m sorry.” Jayce blinks.

“Apology accepted,” he holds out a hand. Violet grins and shakes it.

“Y’know, I’m surprised a prince is so easy to forgive kidnapping,” she jokes. Jayce’s smile falls a bit.

“Honestly?” he starts, “I’m almost-”

They’re interrupted by the opening of a door- the Captain’s door. And the rhythmic clacking of a cane. Viktor steps onto the deck, having taken a deep breath, looking like he was about to shout an order, before he sees the small group gathered on the quarter deck. He lets out his collected breath, looking from Jayce, to Vi, to Powder, and back to Jayce, before burying his head in his unoccupied hand. “Powder…” he sighs.

“TO BE FAIR,” she starts, “Isha and I got him to eat!” Jayce blushes at this, but Powder continues, “And if he’s gonna be here for the next six months, V, he needs social interaction!” Jayce frowns at being treated like a barely housebroken pet. He speaks up to vocalize such.

“I’m right here, you know-” he begins, but Vi bulldozes him.

“AND a lot of us wanted to apologize for kidnapping him. I mean, he can’t just sit in that tiny room with no company but the furball, all while we rot with guilt at being kidnappers, V!” she groans. Viktor pulls his head out of his hand. Jayce worries for a second that he had just gotten the girls in trouble, but instead, Viktor sighs. Jayce notices he’s been doing that a lot.

“You’re right,” he says, quirking his head to the side, “we need to treat Jayce like a guest, rather than a prisoner.” Jayce’s eyebrows shot up. He had never before seen someone in a position of authority so easily concede to being incorrect- at least, not with the Kirammans. He knew the Kirammans were far from the standard, but it still gave him a small bit of hope that his rise in respect for the Captain wasn’t unfounded. Powder scoops up Isha, and yanks at Vi’s arm, and the three of them walk over to the starboard edge of the ship, giving the two men a bit of privacy for a conversation. Viktor finally interrupts the silence the girls left behind.

“Perhaps,” begins the Captain, “we can start over?” It takes a moment for Jayce to register his words. “I’m sorry, Jayce. I did not mean to drag you into the center of all of this. Regardless, it is my fault that I hadn’t accounted for the Kirammans’ poor financial state, and you got caught in the crossfire.” Jayce’s brows furrow, but Viktor continues. “It is not an excuse. Simply an explanation. But that does not make it right, and I understand that I’ve put you through a lot in the past three days alone. And for that, I’m truly sorry. I hope that in spending the next six months with my crew and I, we are able to help you feel comfortable and safe, and show you our… eh- what is the saying? Kurva-” He mutters to himself for a moment. “Ah, our ‘true colors.’”

Jayce’s hazel eyes meet golden ones as he digests the Captain’s apology. This was different than the rest of the crewmembers’ apologies. While no less genuine, Viktor had formed a connection with Jayce prior to the kidnapping. And goddammit, Jayce still couldn’t help the fucking butterflies he felt when remembering the hand on his shoulder or the brush of lips across his bare knuckles. It makes him want to feel those hands elsewhere, and those lips-

Woah, Jayce caught himself, SO not the time.

Even without his horny thoughts, the betrayal persists. It wasn’t the way Viktor had held him- it was the fact that he had been the first one to do so. Jayce realizes he had been silent for a bit too long, but Viktor just calmly holds his gaze. Eventually, Jayce speaks. “I don’t think I want to start over.” Viktor’s eyebrows raise, and he seems conflicted, but Jayce continues, “I just mean- it wasn’t… all bad.” He can feel his cheeks pinken. “Just the kidnapping part.”

Viktor laughs aloud, before nodding as he says, “Yes, that part was eh- not great.”

Jayce tries to school his expression into something resembling anger. “I’m still mad at you, you know,” he says. Viktor’s face turns serious, and he nods. Jayce looks down at his feet, saying “I don’t think I can forgive you yet. But we can work on it?”
Viktor smiled at the offer. “I’d like that,” he says.

“UGH! GET A ROOM,” Powder interrupts from the railing. Jayce and Viktors’ faces redden as they turn from each other. Eventually, Viktor clears his throat.

“Pardon me if this is a stupid question, but it seems you’ve handled this kidnapping a bit too well- aside from the three days of refusing Claggor’s delicacies.” Viktor starts. “Is there a reason you aren’t particularly furious about being kept from your home?” By now, the girls had rejoined them, and their small group had grown into what looked like about half of the crew. Jayce let out a sigh.

“I guess if I’m going to explain this, it makes sense to only explain it once, huh?” Jayce smirks, waving the rest of the crew closer.

“Is this a long explanation?” Viktor asks, before Jayce can begin.

“Yeah, kinda,” Jayce says, a bit offended. “Is that alright with you, Captain?”

“Oh, very,” Viktor says, smiling. He begins to lower himself to the ground. “Just figured I’d sit, is all. I’m not particularly talented at standing.”

“Oh,” Jayce breathes, embarrassed. “Sorry.” Viktor waves his apology off. Jayce looks around, and watches as the rest of the crew begins to sit. Some with peg legs, and some just seemingly to join the others or because they’re tired. Jayce sees every crew member sit down, and when Isha plops herself down in Powder’s lap, he decides he may as well join them. He drops to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Want me to interpret?” Viktor asks, making eye contact with Isha.

Isha looks at him, then moves her hands. No. Jayce signs better.

Viktor looks shocked, and Jayce laughs. Sure, sign language was blunt, but Isha’s sass was what made him cackle. A few other crew members join in at their Captain being absolutely owned by a nine-year-old. Finally, the laughter is interrupted by the Captain, who is staring at Jayce like he’d grown a second head.

“You sign?” Viktor balks.

“Why’d you ask it like that?” Jayce says and signs, his hand hitting his head a bit too roughly on the ‘why’.

“I just-” Viktor stops, then his gaze falls. He seems to think to himself for a moment. Finally, he looks up to Jayce, who was waiting patiently. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed. Apologies.”

Jayce nods, waving away the apology just as Viktor had done before. “Now,” Jayce asks and signs, “Where should I start?”

“The BEST place to start!” yells a man up in the crow’s nest. Jayce watches as a head of dark skin and white dreads peeks over the railing. They weren’t too far from the crow’s nest, seeing as they were seated on the quarter deck, but Jayce still wondered how the man had heard him. Then he realized the man had been watching Jayce’s signs. The man shifts, leaning further over the railing to yell, “at the BEGINNING!”

Chapter Text

JAYCE

The beginning, huh? Jayce could do that. Nevermind that no one had ever asked him about the past before- no one had ever needed to. His mother was with him for all of it. Caitlyn had been filled in by Cassandra, who had been filled in by Ximena. And Jayce, despite his natural charm and friendliness, never really made… well,  friends.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t- it just never happened. There were very few people his age in the castle- it was what had drawn Jayce and Caitlyn so close to one another. Much to the disappointment of Cassandra. The two were menaces- stealing snacks from the kitchens, sneaking into one another’s rooms for sleepovers, distracting each other from lessons- it’s no wonder Cassandra had never been Jayce’s biggest fan.

All that to say- Jayce had no idea where to begin. What the fuck is “the beginning?” His birth?

Dear Janna, Jayce thinks to himself. Guess I’m gonna wing it.

“Hi, my name is Jayce Rojan Talis-” he begins speaking and signing, but is immediately interrupted by a chorus of “Hi Jayce!” Jayce smiles to himself and continues.

“I’m twenty three yea-,” he pauses, blinking. Three days.

Slowly, he turns to Viktor. “What day is it?”

Viktor’s eyebrows draw in as he quirks his head. “July eighth. Why?”

“Ah.” Jayce’s face falls from curiosity to sorrow. He missed it. He missed his own fucking birthday, sulking in his room. How had he not recognized it when the sun had risen and fallen yesterday? He didn’t feel any different. He still felt like a stupid twenty-three year old that was so emotionally constipated, it took a nine year old and almost three days to yank him out of his misery. Jayce sighs, before continuing.

“I guess I’m twenty four then. I-” he is interrupted by a choir of questions and a flurry of fingers. He begins to wonder if he’ll ever even get through a sentence again. Maybe he’ll be saved from the crew’s curiosity by the crew’s curiosity. His attention zeroes in on Isha’s hands.

When was your birthday?! She asks, seemingly furious. Jayce smiles, embarrassed.

Yesterday. July seventh. Isha throws up her hands in exasperation, turning in Powder’s lap to give her a look that screams ‘can you believe this guy?’

Chuckling at her silent, though entertaining expressions, Jayce sees that among the throng of those vying for his recognition, one man sits still. Viktor is staring at Jayce, frozen. The look in those golden eyes is one Jayce couldn’t decipher if he had a million years and all the resources in Runeterra. He can pick out the easy bits- sorrow, pity, guilt- but they don’t even scratch the surface of the depths of those golden pools and what they convey. But gods, Jayce could stare at them all day. Even if he never understood them- especially if he never understood them. Those eyes were locked on him, and Jayce felt important. He felt seen. And he was a bit scared of how much he liked it.

Just as soon as he had met them, they were gone. Odd, Jayce thinks. I wouldn’t have thought he would back down first. The crew had gone relatively quiet in lieu of his intense staring contest with their Captain. Embarrassed, again, Jayce resolves himself to keep his eyes off of Viktor until he’s done with his story. Viktor was a distraction, after all. Jayce clears his throat and shakes out his hands before he speaks and signs.

“I’m twenty four. I was born on Aleus- a little island just off the coast of Marinn. I’m an only child.” He takes a deep breath. “I had a good childhood. I was clumsy, ate way too much, grew way too much. I was always really close with my dad. His name was Rojan, and he was the coolest. I would follow him to the forge, where he worked. He made hammers, shovels, and anything else our little coastal town could need. They had never had a blacksmith before, so the townspeople were always really nice to my dad. And it was the perfect job for him- he never even needed to wear ear protectors, even with all the clanging in the forge.” Jayce laughed to himself, and he saw Isha smile too. “He would make swords sometimes. And shields. He probably could have made anything he wanted- he was that good. I would watch him for hours from this little bench at the edge of the forge. It had red and yellow flowers painted on it- I think by my mom. Those are some of my favorite memories.”
Jayce takes a breath, and lets it out shakily.

“One day, I was w-watching my dad from my little bench when something went- wrong. He uh-” Jayce felt something hot on his cheek. He raised a hand, pulling it away to find it wet.

Fuck. Jayce was crying. He had cried before. On this very ship, no less. But this time felt bigger, and smaller at the same time. It was vulnerable- open. He was no longer crying for the arguably valid reason of being forcibly ripped from his home. Jayce was crying because of a man who had been dead for over a decade. He felt pathetic.

Before he could stumble through an apology for his waterworks, a voice echoes from the crow’s nest.

“WHY’D YOU STOP?” the guy yells. Powder nudges Isha from her lap, before standing up, screaming and signing back at him.

“HE’S CRYING, YOU ASSHOLE!”
“WELL I COULDN’T SEE THAT FROM UP HERE!”

“WHY ARE YOU EVEN UP THERE, EKKO? GO BACK TO THE ENGINE ROOM AND LEAVE THE BIG GUY ALONE!”

“THE ENGINE’S DOWN! I CAN’T DO SHIT DOWN THERE TIL WE FIX IT!”

“THEN GO FIX IT, YA LITTLE BASTARD!”

“LITTLE?! POWDER, YOU’RE SHORTER THAN ME-”

Jayce feels his cheeks heat. While happy for the distraction and entertained by the squabble, he was still incredibly embarrassed. He turns, hoping to find validation or comfort in Viktor. He watches the Captain get up and walk away, back into his quarters, without so much as a glance in Jayce’s direction.

I’m too much.

Jayce’s cries grow heavier as he desperately tries to keep them from spilling over. He screws his eyes shut, trying in vain to cut off all of the emotions at the bud. He can feel himself spiraling, and even-

Something warm and fuzzy is set softly into his lap. Jayce opens his eyes. Viktor’s back, and had placed something between his legs that mewed quietly. Rio. Before he could turn to thank Viktor, a jacket was settled over his shoulders- a big one, smelling faintly of booze and leather and lavender. Jayce turns to his other side, and watches as Vi further secures her jacket onto his shaking frame with a reassuring smile. Viktor and Vi both sit back down as though nothing had happened. Casual, but comforting. Acknowledging, but not pushing.

Once it seems her screaming match with Ekko has subsided, Powder settles back onto the floor, dragging Isha back into her lap and wrapping her arms around her kid. Isha nuzzles into Powder, then the child turns to Jayce.

Whenever you’re ready, she signs. Jayce smiles. He wipes his eyes, cuddles Rio a little closer, and pulls the huge jacket tighter around himself. He had never felt so… cared for.

“Sorry,” he says, wiping at his face. “I’d say I’m not normally a crier, but that’s just not true, hah-” Jayce attempts to laugh off his apology. Viktor shakes his head stiffly.

“Nothing to apologize for. Would you like to continue?” Viktor asks. Jayce looks out at the sea of crew members. With those golden eyes fixated on him, he had forgotten the thirty-ish other people listening to him spill his life story. He gave a shaky nod, pausing before he felt ready.

“When I was eleven, I was watching my dad in the forge when something went wrong. There was a flash of light, and I turned my head, a-and then there was a huge sound- an explosion. It knocked over my bench and I hit my head on the ground. And when I looked up,  there was fire and metal everywhere. I went to get my dad, to drag him out of the forge, but he wasn’t- he-” Subtle hand movements catch his eyes.

Breathe, Isha signs. Jayce does.

“I pulled him out, but it was… obvious he was gone. The forge collapsed behind us. I ran to get Mamá. I remember running to the house, opening the door, rambling something like ‘Dad’s gone, explosion, help,’ and not much else. I passed out, and woke up a week later- head injuries will do that to you. My mamá was at my side. She had only left once all week. For uh- for my dad’s funeral. I missed it. It took me a few days to realize I had also lost my sense of hearing on my left side.” Jayce taps his left ear as if to demonstrate, and pauses, just taking a moment to breathe.

“Janna, dude,” Vi interrupts the silence. “And I thought Pow-pow and my origin story was rough.” That draws a few laughs from the audience, and Powder sticks her tongue out at Vi. After a moment of looking back and forth between the two, Jayce notes the familial resemblance. “Sisters,” Vi confirms, seeing the confusion on his face. “Sorry to interrupt, keep going.”

“It’s okay,” Jayce offers. “My hands needed a break anyway. It’s been a while since I’ve signed this much.” He shakes his hands out, before continuing. “My mom and I lived on Aleus for another year before the crown came looking for us.  Knights came knocking at our door, saying the King was on his deathbed, and they were looking for Rojan Kiramman. My mom told them the truth- her husband, Rojan Talis, was dead. A few days later, the knights came back, and told my mom and I to pack- they were going to take us to Piltover. We wanted to stay on Aleus. With- with my dad. He was buried there, and we always made sure he had enough flowers o-on his grave. Red and yellow ones. They told us we didn’t have a choice. So we packed. They had our little cottage under lock and key- but my mom was clever. She asked them for one more night to say goodbye to my dad. At my dad’s grave, my mom finally explained.

“When I was little, my parents used to tell me, between signs, spanish, and english, a story about a prince. This prince fell in love with a baker woman, and he loved her so much that they ran away together. In front of my dad’s little tombstone, my mamá told me that wasn’t the end of the story. The prince and the baker had a little boy, and the prince died. And now the boy and the baker woman had to run away together.”

Jayce paused, as Rio readjusted herself in his lap. He looked out at the audience he held captive with his voice, their collective attention his hostage. “So, we ran. We ran straight from my dad’s grave out to the docks. We stowed away on a cargo ship, meant for Zaun. We had heard that Zaun took in anyone, and that Piltover stayed far away from them.” The crew, mostly Zaunites, Jayce notices, nodded along.

Duh, he thinks. The ship is fucking called ‘Darling of Zaun.’

“It was winter. Ships probably shouldn’t have been sailing then. But this huge cargo ship left the harbor anyway. We got halfway to Zaun before the ship hit a glacier, and we started to sink.” The crew gasps.

Did you survive? Isha signs earnestly.

No, Jayce smiles and signs, I died. Isha rolls her eyes, and Jayce looks over to Viktor, but the Captain wouldn’t meet his eyes. Regardless, Jayce continues, “We hung onto these big crates that were floating in the freezing water. Crates full of fucking radishes. Still can’t eat ‘em to this day.” Jayce laughs. “We were the only survivors. We screamed for help for hours, tried paddling towards Zaun, but eventually my mom passed out. She was so, so cold. I was twelve, trying to keep the both of us afloat on a crate in the middle of the ocean. Just when I thought we were gonna die, a ship came out of nowhere.” Jayce smiled to himself at the memory. He could go into detail here… but some memories, he decides, would be just for himself.

“They scooped us up, and I passed out too. By the time we woke up, we were being handed over to a Piltover navy ship. Captain fuckin’ Marcus-” He hears a wave of disgust roll through the crew. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with a distaste for the general. “-dragged us back to Piltover. We passed out again. I guess I do that a lot. I woke up in a hospital bed, with my mom next to me. She was missing two fingers- frostbite, the doctors said. I was fine. When my mom woke up, we met my aunt. Queen Cassandra. She told us that to repay her for saving our lives, we were to stay in the palace, and wait. To be useful.

“We were useful in small ways. My mamá helped in the kitchens. I studied and helped in the library. I learned enough to make some prosthetic fingers for my mom- I’m really proud of them. I tutored Cait- er, the princess. She’s like a sister to me.” After a deep inhale and a bit of a chuckle, Jayce continued.

“Three days ago,” Jayce shot Viktor a look. The Captain continued to avoid his eyes, but turned pink, with a blush highlighting his ears and reaching down his collar. Cute, thought Jayce. “-I was called into the ballroom, and Queen Cassandra told me she was going to marry me off. To Noxus. That it was why she had ‘summoned’ us to Piltover all those years ago. There was nothing my mother or I could do. And then- well, you know the rest.”

For a moment, the entire crew is silent. Then, Jayce is hit with a wall of sound as thirty curious pirates verbally charge.

VIKTOR

Dear Janna, Viktor thinks, this man needs therapy.

He watches as his crew begins standing and clamoring over one another, all trying to ask Jayce their questions or comment on his life’s story.

“Wait so your dad was a PRINCE? I didn’t know our hostage was royalty-”

“Damn, Cassandra’s a biiiiiitch.”

“Are you going to marry the Noxian princess?”

“So are you mad at us for kidnapping you? I’m still sorry-”

“Your mom was a baker right? Can you make us cookies? Claggor only makes them on weekends ‘cause they’re ‘not nutritious’ or some shit-”

“Have you ever been back to Aleus?”

“Why do you have an eyebrow scar? Is it from the explosion that killed your dad?”

“Dude, don’t mention his dead dad-”

“Why are you so tall? Like Janna, what was the castle feeding you-”

“Is that dickhead Marcus still alive? I didn’t see him at the party-”

The questions kept coming and coming. With the increased volume of his crew, Rio jumps off of Jayce’s lap, scurrying off to find a place to hide from the noise. Viktor feels inclined to do the same. His gaze snaps up to Jayce, who looks- aside from absolutely stunning in his loose clothing, clean and out of his room for the first time in days- about as overwhelmed as one would expect.

Viktor stands, slowly. His knees pop and crack as he unfolds to his full height. He probably shouldn’t have been sitting for as long as he had, and he grimaces at the dull, throbbing ache in his hip. He lifts his cane a few inches off of the floor, before slamming it sharply back onto the deck. His crew immediately silences, all eyes snapping to him. All eyes, and Viktor finds he has to fight not to gaze into the hazel ones that will distract him.

“Enough. Let our guest rest. With the engine down, we’re sailing old-fashioned. We’ll be docking in Marinn tomorrow to resupply. I want Scar and Gert on sails. Mylo, ropes and rigging. Have Ekko check our trajectory before you pull the main to full. Powder, take inventory of necessary ammunition. Isha, keep Powder on track. Ettie, medical inventory. It’s been about three months, so check in with any crewmate who bleeds monthly to make sure they have what they need. Sky, find records of our previous stops of Marinn and the most recent Marinnian map we have in the archives, and bring them to my office. Ekko-” Viktor sighs, and turns skyward, shouting and signing one handed to the man still inexplicably in the crow’s nest.

“EKKO! Check the engine again. If we’ll be ashore, may as well change out the mechanisms that are getting close to needing replacement, rather than waiting for those pieces to fail. Sky will help you once she’s finished in the archives. Claggor, inventory on kitchen and culinary provisions- what we need, how much of it, you know the drill. Everyone else, you either have tasks or can find one. Vi will supervise, and collect inventories once you finish. She has my full permission to assign any task to anyone she catches slacking.” Viktor wraps his cane against the deck twice more. “Adelante y arriba.”

Onward and up.

The Querida del Zaun didn’t have many traditions. Viktor, having taken over the ship three years ago from the… psychopath who had once led it, had hated the way the previous Captain had ended his orders with threats. When he had first unfurled the sails of the newly minted “Querida del Zaun,” he had struggled to give orders, worrying that his commanding tone would make him comparable to his predecessor. Powder, who had been twenty at the time, gave him some sound advice- break the cycle. By ending each list of commands with kindness or encouragement, Viktor quickly overcame his worries. What had begun as longer compliments or reassurances to his crew had boiled down to one phrase; onward and up. Adelante y arriba.

As his crew nods and scatters, each to their assigned tasks, he notes Jayce still sitting on the floor. He looks, Viktor thinks, like a lost puppy. Waiting to be told what to do. He cuts off that train of thought before it can devolve into something far less innocent.

“Jayce,” Viktor turns to him. Jayce’s gaze lifts slowly to meet Viktor’s. His eyes are unfocused, and he seems… not there. A bit of worry flares through Viktor. He holds a hand out to Jayce who, seemingly on autopilot, takes it. Viktor gives his hand a little tug, and Jayce, thank Janna, lifts himself from the floor. Jayce stands, towering over Viktor- and yet, Viktor can’t help but think how small Jayce looks. He shouldn’t be alone right now, Viktor thinks to himself.

He takes Jayce by the wrist, pulling him gently towards his own quarters. Viktor opens the door, and allows Jayce to choose to walk in, before entering and closing the door behind himself with a soft click.

Viktor passes Jayce, and sits on his bed. He shuffles the pillows around, clearing a space, before tapping the sheets beside him in invitation. Still seemingly half-unaware, Jayce turns and sits beside Viktor, his arms wrapped around himself. Viktor shuffles slightly closer, hoping a bit of contact may be helpful. From what he could remember of their night at the ball- a night he had been desperately trying to cement in his memory- Jayce had eased immensely while dancing. He also simply seemed the type to seek comfort through touch. On top of that, Jayce seemed to be holding himself. Trembling in his own arms as though he could give himself the comfort of another. Viktor had expected to near Jayce, and possibly offer a shoulder for him to lean on.

Instead, Jayce moves away from Viktor. He shuffles further down the bed, still looking straight ahead. That- fuck, that stung. Viktor’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. Had he offended Jayce somehow? Jayce had said he was still angry at him, and after all, Viktor did kidnap the poor guy at knife point, causing him to miss his own fucking birthday. Viktor looks away from Jayce. He feels like an intruder in a private meltdown- the cause of the problem that shouldn’t expect to be allowed to help with the solution. His eyes close. He can hear Jayce’s breath coming to him in sharp pants as he continues to slowly inch further away from Viktor.

Viktor hadn’t wanted things to go this way. Gods, never. Fuck what his fathers would think- he was going to break. Viktor knows the feeling of being trapped- intimately. He shudders to think of the nights- the years he spent, carving notches into the walls. The feeling of suffocation- a suppression of autonomy and disregard to consent. The way your body registers being trapped as a threat, and traps you within your own mind. The daunting, indisputable threat that the only thing that can save you is time. Viktor looks to the ceiling, trying desperately to blink away the tears that threaten to spill.

This is nothing like that, Viktor has to remind himself. Jayce will be safe. Protected. Respected. Allowed to wander, to socialize, to live. And eventually, leave.

However much he tried to justify it, all Viktor could think was that a cage of wood and water, though freer than the one of gold and pride, was still a fucking cage.

Oh gods, Viktor thought. I swore I’d never- but I’m just as bad as he was- I-

With a soft thump, a head lands in Viktor’s lap. His eyes snap down, meeting the side of Jayce’s face, whose eyes are still fixated forward. Immediately, his spiraling ceases. The weighted presence in his lap demands attention, and he sets aside his own feelings before gently raising a hand. He lowers it slowly and within Jayce’s field of vision, giving him plenty of time to refuse, but Jayce says nothing. Viktor’s hand settles softly in Jayce’s hair, and the man below flinches as though burnt. With gentle, predictable movements, Viktor begins to card his fingers through Jayce’s hair. When he reaches the end of Jayce’s scalp, he picks his hand up and repeats the movement again. And again. And again.

Viktor watches as tears well in Jayce’s eyes, before he begins crying softly. The silent tears turn into muffled cries, which Jayce seems to be trying to keep quiet. Viktor continues to move his hand through Jayce’s hair. Jayce’s arms are still wrapped around himself, and he looks to be physically hold himself together. Viktor wishes Jayce would just let it out. Whatever it was, it seems to be weighing so heavily on him. Maybe by breaking the silence, Viktor thinks, he’ll let go. So, Viktor begins to hum. A soft song, repetitive and comforting. It was one his father had sung to him as a child- a song that he had sung to himself many a time during his years… trapped. Jayce’s cries became a tad louder, though still restrained. Well, Viktor thinks, here goes nothing.

Viktor is by no means a singer. Sure, he’ll chime in to a shanty at a pub, or sing the occasional celebratory chant- but he was well aware that his voice was not suited for beautiful notes or soft refrains. Regardless, he opens his mouth, and quietly starts to sing.

Ships are safe at harbor

but that's not what they are for.

They're meant to sail the seven seas,

and weather through the storm.

Jayce’s cries, instead of amplifying, begin to dim. His breathing begins to steady. It wasn’t a bad reaction, so Viktor continued, voice breaking every few notes.

Sailing through the waves as

we navigate by stars.

Though adventures excite me,

they're not my favorite part.

The tension leaves Jayce’s shoulders. He goes limp in Viktor’s arms. One of Jayce’s hands rests against Viktor’s good knee, and a shaky inhale precedes a deep exhale as Jayce sinks further into the comfort of Viktor’s arms and voice.

Well you are not a ship, but

a harbor I will be,

so when your journeys take their toll,

you can return safe to me.

He could continue. Viktor could easily give Jayce the more vulnerable parts of the song. He could watch as the man’s brows furrow at the word love. Viktor almost wants to. A sadistic form of self-harm, he supposes- to allow himself more vulnerability than he currently indulges in, with the sweet man in his lap.

Viktor thinks to the ring sitting not ten feet away in the drawer of his desk.

No.

Viktor repeats the simple phrases of the song. Loops back to the beginning and pauses after the chorus to start over each time. He continues to brush Jayce’s hair from his face, and watches as his eyes flutter closed. He almost flinches at the ease in which Jayce hands over his most vulnerable self to… Viktor.

Viktor. Who was too- too- everything Jayce was not. Even only having known Jayce for not yet even three full days, he knew that where Jayce was soft, he was hard. Where Jayce was loving, he held resentment. Jayce was healthy, kind, and so good. And Viktor? Viktor was crippled, cruel, and far, far from good. Maybe too far.

He doesn’t deserve the sweetness. Not the kindness of the man who inched away only so he could trustingly place his head in the lap of the man who danced with him by music and then by sword. Not the genuine care that exuded from the man’s very soul as he keened into Viktor’s touch.

No.

Viktor was broken.

Broken in mind. Broken in body. Broken in heart.

His hands were stained red with the blood of those whose faces he would never forget, and whose deaths he would never regret.

Chapter Text

JAYCE

They hadn’t talked about it.

Jayce had woken up alone in Viktor’s bed, still with Vi’s huge jacket wrapped around him, and tucked into the sheets that smelled like vanilla and sandalwood. He had let his eyes crack open slowly, taking in the dawn’s light that peeked through the curtains of a huge window. For a moment, Jayce had been disoriented- for the fourth time in four days, he was waking up somewhere he didn’t recognize immediately. He slowly sat up, bracing himself on his elbow to rub at his still-adjusting eyes.

Last night came back to him slowly- meeting Isha and Powder, receiving apologies from half of the crew, spilling his life’s story. His cheeks heated when he recalled the way he had broken down in front of his kidnappers, and began sobbing inconsolably.

Like a fucking child, Jayce thought.

But then, it hadn’t been all bad, had it? There was Viktor.

Viktor. Who had given him a space to calm down. Who had stroked Jayce’s hair from his face. Who had sung him to sleep. Jayce’s cheeks heated even further, but for an entirely different reason.

He peeled the blanket from himself and swung his legs around the bed, slowly rising to his feet. His back cracked as he twisted this way and that, and Jayce sighed at the relief through his spine. Jayce turned around, folding the blankets behind him and making the bed- Viktor’s bed. He smoothed out the maroon sheets, and desperately hoped he hadn’t made a fool of himself. Caitlyn had always told him he snored and drooled when he fell asleep in the library- a bad habit of his that he never bothered to correct. Gods, what if he talked in his sleep? He couldn’t even begin to imagine all the embarrassing things he might have said.

Jayce left the captain’s quarters, resolving to find, thank, and apologize to the man who had been so relentlessly kind to him. As he closed the door gently behind himself, he heard a low whistle.

“Wow, leaving the captain’s quarters in yesterday’s clothes?” Powder asked, clearly pleased with herself. “Didn’t realize my brother could pull a prince.”

Jayce whipped around, finding Powder sitting on a barrel next to the door he had just closed behind himself- he hadn’t even seen her. Even having barely known her a full two days, Jayce could tell this would be a regular occurrence. The menace seemed to be able to sneak anywhere unnoticed, silently watching and waiting to chime in with a smirk. Jayce immediately felt his face heat, stammering out an attempted explanation. “It wasn’t- we didn’t- I’ve never even- he only- I- I-” Powder cracked a smile, waving her hand dismissively.

“Relax, big boy. I know Viktor wouldn’t jump your bones,” she smirked. Jayce let his face contort in confusion. Why not? He wanted to ask. Instead, he shook off the thought.

“Where’s Isha?” Jayce asked, looking around for Powder’s tiny shadow.

“She’s asleep. It’s fucking dawn, dude, and she’s nine,” Powder chuckled.

“Do you know where I can find Vikto- I mean, uh, Captain?” He asked, after taking a breath.

“Down in the engine room, probably. He’s working with Ekko to see what needs fixing and replacing,” Powder shrugged.

“Thanks!” Jayce smiled, before turning around. He made it a few steps before stopping in his tracks and realizing-

“You have no idea where the engine room is, do ya?” Powder asked. Jayce could practically feel her smirk growing as he slowly shook his head, refusing to turn back to the blue-haired menace. With a swing of her legs, she hopped down from the barrel, and skipped past Jayce. He found himself having to pick up the pace to catch Powder when she skipped the stairs entirely to jump from the quarter deck down to the main. Jayce cringed in empathy for her knees. He watched her blue braids sway side to side as she made her way from one end of the deck to the other. Just as she approached the stairs,  a question prompted by Powder’s unpredictability surfaced in Jayce’s mind- one he had the urge to ask immediately to quell his curiosity. And, well… he’s always had poor impulse control.

“Uh, Powder?” Jayce asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, Josh?” Powder said, skipping ahead of Jayce.

“It’s Ja- oh fuck you.” Jayce smirks at Powder’s mischievous smile. “Hey, uh, tell me to fuck off if this is a stupid question, but are you a… girl? Or…?” Jayce let the question hang in the air, as Powder’s arm whipped out, grabbing one of the masts and swinging around it to meet Jayce’s eyes. Powder’s face seemed… carefully neutral.

“What’s it to you?”
“I- well-” Jayce stammered. “I know you called yourself Isha’s mom, but like, I don’t wanna assume, and I just want to make sure I address you the way you want? I guess?” Jayce’s eyes fell to the floor as he shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “Sorry- I’m butchering this.”
He looked up to find Powder’s mouth break into an easy smile. “No worries Jaycie. That’s uh- surprisingly sweet and considerate,” she shrugs. “For a Piltie, I guess.”

“Technically, I’m not a Piltie, I’m from Aleus,” Jayce corrected. “And no one’s called me Jaycie since I was five.”

Powder smirked, before spinning around the mast a few times, seemingly for the hell of it, before answering Jayce’s question. “Well, Jaycie, you can call me whatever ya want. I’m cool with being called a girl… or anything else. Boy, girl, other, neither, all of the above-” she smirked, “-just don’t call me a bitch and we’re cool.”

Jayce chuckled and nodded, taking in the new information. Powder’s braids swirled behind them as they hopped down from the mast. Powder grabbed one of Jayce’s wrists, tugging him along in what Jayce presumed was the direction of the engine room. The two trampled down some stairs to the hall that housed the crews’ living quarters, the medical bay, and the kitchen. After being yanked down the hallway, Powder pulled Jayce towards a trap door. She opened it with a flourish, leading Jayce down another set of stairs, and he had to focus on his footwork to not immediately trip over Powder’s long braids. They finally stopped at the base of the stairs, which overlooked a large, cluttered room. It seemed to be storage for- well, everything. There were books, chests, clothes, boxes labeled ‘CAUTION: EXPLOSIVES,’ sacks of grain, and so much more. Hearing a clucking sound, Jayce turned to his right, seeing a small coop with live chickens. Before he could investigate or coo over how cute they were (despite the way they stunk up the entire hull), Powder led him over piles of stuff and between stacks of clutter, until they came to a stop in front of two doors. One was labeled LIBRARY + ARCHIVES, and the other, with loud clanking noises and cursing that could be heard through said door, was labeled ENGINE ROOM.

Jayce turned to thank Powder, but they were already halfway back up the stairs before he could get a word out. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to their chaotic nature and unpredictability. Shaking his head, and figuring that wrapping on the door wouldn’t be heard over the continual profanity and clamoring he could still hear, Jayce opened the door and stepped into the engine room.

“-I’m telling you, V, we don’t have to replace that processor. It has like five months of life left,” Ekko’s voice could be heard from around the engine pieces blocking Jayce’s view. He stepped around the mechanical wonder that normally would power the ship, marvelling at the craftsmanship and ingenuity. That was when a disgruntled Viktor and a grease-covered Ekko came into view.

“And I’m telling you that a blown processor would have us sunk in five minutes. I will not compromise the safety of my crew to save a few coins that would be spent anyways in five months’ time. I know you could fix it, but I’d rather buy one from an engineer with more experience.” Though Viktor was faced away from Jayce, sat on a crate facing Ekko, Jayce could imagine the drawn eyebrows and concerned expression on the other man’s face. “I don’t doubt your expertise, Ekko. You’re brilliant- it’s why I took you on. You have 3 years of piracy with me under your belt, but just one year of those where you were in charge of engine maintenance. I want all my essential engine pieces from someone who’s worked with ships before and can anticipate the things about engines that you can’t learn in the textbooks you got from Benzo. Does that make sense?”
Ekko sighed. “Yeah Cap. Processor’s going on the list. If that’s all, I’ll take this inventory to Vi.”

“Yes Ekko, thank you,” Jayce could hear the smile in Viktor’s voice as Ekko stood to leave. Ekko slipped past Jayce, muttering a ‘g’morning.’

Jayce returned the sentiment, “Good morning Ekko.”

At his voice, Viktor’s head snapped up. He hadn’t turned to look at Jayce yet, but he could tell he held the Captain’s attention. Jayce took a deep, steadying breath.

“Viktor, I wanted to thank y-”

“We’ll be docking in Marinn today,” Viktor interrupted. “I suggest you get ready. You’ll accompany us into town, so we can keep an eye on you.”

Jayce blinked. Okay. “Sorry, I just- I just wanted to thank you for last night, and for-”
“That will be unnecessary, Jayce,” Viktor’s voice echoed from where it reverberated across the metals in the room. Jayce was almost distracted from the words Viktor had spoken by the way his accent had wrapped around Jayce’s name. After a few seconds, he mentally registered the blatant dismissal. What the fuck?

“Are you… mad at me? If you tell me what I did, I can fix it-” Jayce started, only to be interrupted again.

“No, Jayce. Go get ready,” Viktor said. “Please.”

“I only wanted to-”

“Go, Jayce. Now.”
“Viktor, can you just look at me?” Jayce asked, feeling small. He watched as Viktor stood from his seat on the crate, leaning heavily on his cane. Once he reached his full height, he slowly shifted his weight and turned to face Jayce.

The eyes that were once a warm and sweet, inviting gold, had turned to a rusted bronze, cold and unforgiving. Jayce faltered at the difference. This wasn’t Viktor. This wasn’t the man he had danced with in the ballroom, or the man who had sung him to sleep only last night- no. This man was a stranger to Jayce.

“Viktor-”
“Captain,” Viktor bit out. “You will refer to me as Captain. Go get ready, Jayce. Unless you would like to spend our time docked in Marinn locked in your room.”

Jayce flinched as if slapped. He took a step back, and then another. His eyebrows furrowed. What did I do wrong? He wanted to ask. But Janna, what didn’t he do wrong? Of fucking course he would fuck it up. It’s no wonder Viktor didn’t want to talk to him. He’d cried, sobbed, even. He’d fallen apart, and made Viktor put the pieces back together. But then, the gentility he had been shown- the softness as Viktor sang him to sleep- wasn’t that real?

Because if it wasn’t- if it was just the desperate attempt of a man to get a baby of a twenty-four year old to shut the fuck up- Jayce took another step back.

Was any of it real?

He finally met the cold eyes trained on him. Jayce straightened his back, kept his gaze fixed ahead. He inclined his head, only slightly.  It was just like back at the castle. Turn the emotions off. Posture straightened. Face neutral. Give nothing away. Say yes. Nod your head. Bow. Obey. Sit. Stay. Speak.

“Yes, Captain. Apologies, I’ll leave you now.” When he finally lifted his head, he couldn’t bring himself to look into those cold eyes again. He kept his own eyes trained on the floor as he turned, fumbled for the door handle, and left. He closed the door behind him, hurrying up the stairs and into his own bedroom.

For once, Jayce didn’t break down into tears. He must have run out of them. He looked to the change of clothes on his bed, and wordlessly stripped and redressed. He then sat on the edge of his mattress, like a good little hostage, and waited to be called upon. He didn’t wring his fingers or bounce his leg. He didn’t try to leave his room or pass the time. He just sat in silence.

He ruined it. He fucked up something he never even had in the first place. All he could do was remind himself exactly what inevitably happened when he did try. When he did fuck up. Why he wouldn’t do it again. Over and over again, he mentally repeated, None of it was real. None of it was real.

None of it was fucking real.

After what could have been minutes or hours, Jayce heard a knock at his door. Before he could even look up, Vi blunders in, eyes covered, and yelling “HEYYA PRETTY BOY, HOPE YOU’RE DECENT!”

Despite himself, Jayce chuckles lightly. “Hey, Violet.” She turns to him, uncovering her eyes, and quirking her head at him. She takes him in- sullen, quiet, sitting alone on a bed in a tiny room for gods knows how long- and sits down on the floor in front of him, just as Powder had done last night. She dips her head, urging Jayce to meet her eyes.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

Jayce looks away, seeing red. He shook with silent anger- not quite rage, as he knew it wasn’t really Violet he was angry at -but close. The time he had been stewing in his feelings boiled over, until he let out a quiet “Why do you care?” 

Violet’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m the first mate. It’s my job to make sure our crew is okay,” she shrugs hesitantly. “That includes you, Jayce.”

“No it doesn’t!” Jayce snaps. “I’m a fucking hostage, Violet. Not a part of your crew. Just because you all said you’re fucking sorry and I trauma dumped my goddamn life story doesn’t erase the fact that I’m here against my will.”

Violet averts her eyes. Whether by guilt, anger, or a mix, Jayce only fumes. “Living in that castle was hell. Yeah, I had my needs provided for. I know I’m more privileged than most. But every second of every day was spent pretending. Do you know what it’s like when one wrong move could threaten everything? What it’s like to be constantly hiding? To never get to be yourself? To be wearing masks so often that you forget which one is your real self? I don’t even know who the fuck I am!”

“Maybe, now,” Vi starts, “you can figure that out?”
“NO!” Jayce shakes his head. “You don’t get it! I. Didn’t. Choose. To. Be. Here. HERE! I’m here, paying the consequences for the actions of the fucking Kirammans, when I don’t even know what they did! And when I’m a victim of them too! They kept my mom and I in that castle for years! My walk from the palace to the dock was my first time leaving that fucking castle since I arrived at TWELVE.”

Vi’s eyes snap up to meet his, scanning for something. Whatever she finds, she seems shaken, and muscles her face into one of neutrality. “Jayce …” she starts, slowly. “You may not be here willingly, but we don’t want to treat you like a prisoner. It’s like Vik said yesterday, you’re a guest-”

“Yeah, one that has to listen and shut the fuck up or he’ll be locked in his room,” Jayce interrupts. When Vi’s face contorts in shock, he continues, “Your Captain made that pretty fuckin clear this morning.”

Vi’s features harden. “What did he say? What did he do?”

“Fucking forget it, Vi!” Jayce falls back onto his mattress, rolling to his side to face the wall. “I didn’t wanna go ashore at Marinn anyways,” he mumbles.

After a moment of silence, Jayce hears Vi snatch her huge jacket off of the floor, and storm out of Jayce’s room.

Great, he thinks. Now I’ve pissed off the first mate. He provoked and argued with Vi, even when he knew it wasn’t all her fault. Jayce rolls onto his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling above. His eyes are still far too dry for tears. Jayce has a headache. He’s tired- exhausted, really. And dehydrated. But he can’t find it in himself to get water. He doesn’t even know where he would get any drinkable water. So, he closes his eyes, and wills sleep to take him.

VIKTOR

“Thank you for your concern, Ettie, but I’m still well-enough stocked from the last time we docked. Though, I wouldn’t say no to getting more of that honey chamomile tea. It really helps me with the cramps- I know it helps Powder too- and we were running low last I checked,” Viktor smiles. The nineteen year old crew member was diligently jotting down notes as they finished up their inventory.

“Do you want me to put the tea under medical inventory, or tell Claggor to put it on his culinary inventory?” Ettie asked, head tilted in question. Their green eyes were trained on Viktor, even as she tucked her golden-brown hair back into their pale bandana one-handed. 

Viktor thought for a moment. “Makes no difference to me, just make sure you don’t both write it down and get us double the necessary amount.” Ettie nods, marking her charcoal pencil against the parchment with little scratching noises.

As the youngest member of the crew at nineteen, everyone had been relatively wary of the young teen taking on the demanding and essential role of medic. However, they had proven themself to be qualified, empathetic, and a quick thinker. Her observant nature made her truly perfect for the role- a far cry from the bumbling buffoon the last medic had been. Ettie seemed to truly love being a medic, constantly picking up new books and techniques at every stop. They could tell you ten ways to save a man with a tourniquet, and twenty ways to kill him with the same band of cloth. While she wasn’t violent by nature, she was truly ruthless when her fellow crew members were threatened. Her intense loyalty and drive to protect was what had finalized Viktor’s decision to bring them on- loyalty was something the last medic lacked desperately. Viktor shook his head, clearing the thought away before it could take root- it wasn’t a pleasant one.

Glancing up from her notes and noticing Viktor’s mentality- she truly noticed everything- Ettie stepped forward, meeting Viktor’s eyes. She inhaled, deep and obvious, prompting Viktor to do the same. Ettie smiled and Viktor realized he had done exactly as she wanted. He nodded with a light laugh. “That’ll be all, Ettie. Thank you.”

Ettie gave Viktor a mock salute, and turned to leave the captain’s cabin. Before they reached the door, a thought struck Viktor- and he decided to vocalize it while his medic was still nearby.

“Ettie?” They turned at their name, expectant. “Would you check in with Jayce? I’ve realized we don’t know his medical history or biological needs. Before the end of the hour, please?”
After a soft nod and smile, she opened the door. “Oh, hello Violet, you’re actually last on my list-”

Ettie was cut off as Vi muscled past them, murmuring a “Sorry, Ettie. Maybe later. ” Taking that for the clue it was, Ettie looked between Vi and Viktor, before leaving quietly.

Viktor took in Violet's appearance- distressed, drowning in Vander's huge jacket, angry- saying Vi was angry would be an understatement. She was fuming.

Okay, thought Viktor, Damage control.

“Violet,” he began, “to what do I owe the pleasu-”

“Shut. Up.”
Fuck. She’s really mad. Viktor sighed, “Vi, you can’t talk to me like-”
“I’ll talk to you however the fuck I want, Captain,” she snarled. Mierda, Viktor thought. Vi continued without pause, “Jayce is down in his room-”

“Crying?” Viktor interrupted. “I fear that’s to be expected, and far from abnormal in this situation-”

“Viktor.” His eyes snapped up to meet hers- something in her voice conveyed urgency and genuine worry. Viktor leaned in, finally listening, dismissive attitude gone.

“He’s sitting on his mattress, silent. Dejected. Disassociated until angry. He got angry when I referred to him as worth something more than a hostage. He mentioned you specifically. What the fuck did you say to him?”

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Viktor snapped.

Vi held his eye contact, unrelenting in her anger, refusing to break first. When Viktor could normally have outlasted her in a game of pride, he recognized her fury as righteous; Vi was fighting, Viktor realized, for someone she had deemed a member of her family. Already? Viktor thought. He supposed Jayce had a way of worming his way into anyone’s heart- but what had he said to Vi for her to take him on so fiercely and quickly?

His own resolve was cracked with guilt. He realized this wasn’t a showdown he could win, let alone should.

“I told him to refer to me as Captain. And when he tried to- apologize? Thank me? I don’t know- I might’ve shut him down and told him to get ready for us to restock in Marinn.”

“That’s it?” Vi pressed.

“I also might’ve implied,” Viktor continued, “that if he didn’t immediately go get ready, he could spend the entire Marinnian trip locked in his room.”

“VIK!” He flinched at Vi’s outrage. “What the actual FUCK?” She began to pace the quarters back and forth. “How could you have even-”

Vi raised a fist. Just to make a point. Not at Viktor. Never at Viktor. Not even in his direction. But he flinched nonetheless. His sister immediately paused, still angry, but began to stammer out apologies. Viktor heard none of them.

He was in a tiny room of a ship, in the dark, years ago. His bad leg’s ankle was tightly locked in an iron manacle chained to a thick ring fastened in the floor. The rags he wore that barely made it to his knees were torn, dirty, defiled. His hair was equally disgusting, and so long it might’ve made it to his hips if it weren’t so matted. He was leaned against a wall of the room- it was really more of a closet. He could smell himself, having not bathed in months, and the mustiness of the closet, with the lack of airflow. The ship rocked, and he knew by the lack of noise outside that it was night- with no windows, the clamor or lack thereof above deck was all he had to go on. He heard the steps. He heard them approach his closet. In the light leaking from beneath his door, he saw the shadows of two legs pause in front of his room. He scrambled, trying desperately to press himself further into the corner. His mad dash to pull away from the door only yanked on the chain, and he whimpered at the pain that shot up his leg. Keys jingled in the door. It creaked open.

Is my dove awake for me? A voice haughtily asked. Viktor curled in on himself, becoming as small as possible. Tsk, you know better than to hide from me, Vitya. A raised hand. A shadow. Sharp pain. The pain that came before more pain. That came before the worst part. Be good for me, Vitya, the monster murmured. You know I hate hitting your beautiful face, dove. Fucking liar. The monster smiled. Good, Vitya. The monster loved his fucking name. Or at least, the fake name he had given the monster to call him- he’d be damned if that monster parading as a man took anything else from him. Vitya, Vitya, Vi-

“-KTOR!” He heard the ring of his name, and his eyes refocused on the present. The wooden floor beneath him. A blanket tight around him. The subtle rock of the ship. The hot presence of tears along his cheeks, cooling as they dried. The two other people in the cabin with him. Vi looked at him, her light, powder blue eyes wide, the very picture of panic and concern. Ettie’s eyes were also trained on him, but theirs radiated calm- a sense of control in the situation.

Ettie sat on the floor, a few paces away, with Vi crouched nearby. “Good,” Ettie spoke. “You with us?” Viktor’s hands fell from where they tangled in his hair, braced against his scalp in what had been a frantic and unsuccessful attempt to ground himself. He was sitting on the floor. His leg throbbed and his back ached. He hadn’t even noticed he had fallen. His fingers scratched at the wooden planks they rested on, and shook as he raised them to sign back ‘Mostly.’

Ettie nodded. “Do you want us here?”

No, came the sign from Viktor’s hands.

Ettie nodded, and yanked Violet up by her arm, despite being half of Violet’s height, pushing her towards the door and following.

Viktor slapped a hand on the floor to regain attention. Vi and Ettie turned around, and watched the slow signs form silently.

Ettie. Stay, need… help. Don’t want Vi to see.

Vi opened her mouth to argue, but Ettie shot her a look. One that radiated threats, and screamed Don’t fuck with me right now. Vi raised her hands in surrender and left.

Ettie closed the door behind the first mate, sat back on the floor, and mirrored Viktor. Hands flat on the floor, feeling at the grooves in the wood. Shoulders hunched, leaning forward. Eyes ahead, meeting Viktor. She waited for a moment, before speaking softly, yet clearly.

“Do you feel the wooden grain? The knot in the plank under your left hand?” Viktor’s fingers searched the wood, as his eyes stayed forward. Once he found the circular clump of wood, he nodded. “Good. Do you feel the blanket on your shoulders? How soft it is?” One of his hands lifted, as he touched the fabric, nodding again. “What about the air? Can you smell the salt? And the coffee down the hall?” Viktor inhaled deeply, immediately isolating the salt in the air. After a few more breaths, he picked up the subtle notes of coffee.

“It’s burnt,” he muttered- his mouth felt dry. How long had he been lost in his own head?

Ettie smiled softly and nodded. “It is. Claggor probably left Powder in charge of the brewing today.” Viktor nodded without humor.

“How long was I…” Viktor got lost in his own question.

“About ten minutes. Long enough for Vi to find me and bring me back.”

“Did I-”

“No, you didn’t talk this time. You fell to the floor, cried silently, eyes open, had a few whining noises, but that was it,” Ettie interrupted. The two had done this enough times that Ettie knew all of his questions. “Would physical contact be helpful?” Viktor considered for a moment, taking in his extremities, before nodding. “Hand or hug?” Ettie asked.

Viktor held out his hand in response, and Ettie reached out, gripping it tightly in her own. They stayed like that for a few moments. Breathing, on the floor, hand in hand, focusing on the present moment. Slowly, very slowly, Viktor’s shoulders relaxed. His posture eased. He shrugged the blanket off of his shoulders, maneuvering his legs out in front of him. Ettie gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go, and standing. She offered her hand back to Viktor, and pulled him up with a grunt when he took it.

“There we go. Get your balance,” she smiled as Viktor shifted his weight back and forth. They walked a limping Viktor to his desk, and he sat atop the Marinnian maps Sky had dropped off earlier. Without asking, Ettie turned to the cabinet next to Viktor’s bed and fished out his crutch, before coming back and leaning it against the desk. Viktor cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Ettie.”

“No problem, V. Anytime,” Ettie smiled. “Do you want to talk about it or move on?”

“Move on, please,” Viktor stopped as Ettie nodded. “I think that’s all Ettie. Thank you again. As always, I appreciate your discretion-”
“Duh.” Ettie interrupted. Viktor smiled.

“I’m alright now. I’ll eh- ‘take it easy’ as you say. If you could send Vi my way, I’d appreciate it. I need to sort this out before we dock in Marinn.” With a nod, Ettie ducked out of Viktor’s quarters.

Viktor took a deep breath. Just when things seemed to be over, the past came back to haunt him. Yes, Jayce was innocent- but Viktor’s resolve was hardened by the revisitation to the years he had spent- alone, haunted, and… ‘tortured’ didn’t even begin to describe it. Viktor rolled his eyes in frustration with himself. He was a Captain on the sea, the commander of one of the most renowned crews to sail in recent years, and all at only twenty five years old- twenty two when he had become Captain. And yet… and yet, all it took was a raised voice and fist for him to crumble. A loud noise and shadow of movement in an otherwise still moment to throw him into the past.

And the Kirammans were the ones responsible for fucking all of it.

He’d gotten one half of his revenge.

The second half was sitting a floor below in a guest room.

Chapter Text

JAYCE

Jayce doesn’t consider himself an angry person. He never had been, and he had hoped he never would be. But even if he wasn’t an angry person now, he had to admit, he was getting pretty damn close.

He nuzzled into the flat pillow, screwing his eyes shut tight. He couldn’t deal with this- this- emotional whiplash.

One minute, Viktor’s dancing with him, kind and charming. Then he’s kidnapping him. Then he gives him an emotional support cat. Then locks him in a room for three days. Then lets Jayce open up to him and his crew, and sings him to sleep while stroking his hair, letting him fall asleep on his lap and then his own bed. Then he threatens him with glorified solitary isolation and restricts Jayce to title-only basis.

What the fuck.

Life with the Kirammans hadn’t been perfect. Gods no. It hadn’t been simple or easy. But it had been steady. There were outlined rules with outlined consequences. There was a routine, a daily acknowledgement of his place in the castle- under the Kirammans. Sure, he fucking hated it. But it made sense.

The interactions he had with Viktor did not. The man was gorgeous, sure. He was arguably the kindest person Jayce had met- given, he hadn’t met many kind people. And yeah, Jayce still felt a heat in his core and butterflies in his stomach each time he met those golden eyes for a second too long. But he was so… frustrated. The seemingly endless push and pull was draining, and Jayce couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had somehow triggered it- if anything.

Maybe it was an intimidation tactic? Some type of ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ but instead it was ‘keep your hostage guessing whether you want to kill him or fuck him?’

At this point, Jayce might be fine with either of those options.
But he wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t.

Because angry people hurt people, and Jayce refused to hurt people.

Of course, he also understood that hurt people hurt people. And sure, he himself was hurt- but that was an explanation for his frustration, rather than an excuse.

Maybe Viktor was hurt? He found himself wondering. Did I- no… what did I do wrong?

His eyes flicked open, and he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with a sigh.

He would have to ask Vi. Fuck, he would have to apologize to Vi.

What the fuck was he thinking, going off on her like that? For a moment, he worried his outburst had hurt Vi- but then he remembered her face. A look of shock, sure, but also simultaneously understanding and confusion.

Jayce threw an arm over his eyes, groaning in frustration.

Vi didn’t deserve that.

But he wasn’t angry.

He couldn’t be.

If Jayce was angry, then he was just as bad as the Kirammans. If Jayce was angry, then he failed at the one thing his mother had asked of him when they had arrived in Piltover, half- frozen together in an infirmary cot.

He almost missed the creak of the door opening, stuck in his own head.

The click of a cane announced the arrival of a certain Captain, and the grumbling announced that he was not alone. Jayce sat up, leisurely leaning against the wall that held his tally marks- four, now. After all, if Viktor couldn’t see the wall, he couldn’t get mad at Jayce for carving into it.

“Anything I can help you with, Captain?” Jayce spoke, keeping his face a cold mask of indifference. As he looked towards the door, he found Viktor standing a few steps into his room, with Vi casually leaning in the doorframe. Jayce noted the frustration in her face, and for a moment, thought it was for him.

But as Viktor remained silent, she nudged him with her boot, with an agitated, “Go on.” Viktor sighed, looking back and forth from Jayce to Vi.

“We’ll be docking in Marrin within the hour. You’re welcome to join us ashore,” he spoke, still not quite meeting Jayce’s eyes.

“Oh for the love of-“ Vi began. “Apologize, Vikkie.”

Jayce tilted his head, a smirk on his lips. “Vikkie?”

Viktor’s face instantly blushed scarlet. The blush burned his ears red, and crawled up from his collar to color his neck and face. Cute, Jayce caught himself thinking.

“Vi,” Viktor said, “leave us.”

Ah mierda, thought Jayce, NOW I’ve done it.

Vi rolled her eyes, pushing off of the door frame. “Fine,” she said, gesturing with her pointer finger between Jayce and Viktor. “But fix it.” Viktor flinched at the sound of the door swinging closed.

Finally, he turned to Jayce. Just as Jayce was about to open his mouth and spit out an apology for- well, he hadn’t gotten that far yet, but something- Viktor spoke.

“I’m sorry, Jayce,” he whispered. Jayce’s eyes snapped up to find Viktor staring at the floor, shuffling lightly from side to side, and tapping at the handle of his cane in what seemed to be a nervous tic. “You didn’t deserve-“

“Wait.” Jayce interrupted. “Can you look at me Vikto- sorry. I-” Jayce breathed. “Sorry. Captain? Please?” He cringed at messing up his addressal of the Captain so soon after being told what to call him.

Viktor let out what sounded like a shaky breath, before nodding. He glanced up, and Jayce saw a depth of emotion in the golden pools that he finally met. He searched the eyes of the other man, hoping to see-

There.

What started as a flicker bloomed the longer they held eye contact. The warmth was back. The icy indifference melted away, gone in place of a gentle golden sincerity that made Jayce’s breath catch.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jayce,” Viktor began again. “You didn’t deserve my earlier coldness. You didn’t deserve to be confined to this room. You didn’t deserve to be fucking kidnapped, for Janna’s sake!” Viktor began pacing the room, one hand gripping his forehead in incredulity as the other worked his cane across the floor. “I know you said you didn’t want to start over, but Gods, Jayce, why not? What on Runeterra have I done other than hurt you?” Jayce’s eyes widened a fraction. “I do not have an excuse- nor an explanation! And my head was so far up my own ass that I had to hear about your anger from Violet-”

“I’m not angry,” Jayce interrupted, though his tone betrayed him.

“YOU SHOULD BE!”

Jayce flinches at the outburst. Viktor had whipped around, and fixed Jayce with a desperate stare. Viktor groans, slamming himself back against the wall, and sinking down to the floor. He takes off his captain's hat, setting it gently on the floor beside him, before roughly burying his head in his hands.

Jayce is- fuck, he’s so lost. He’s frustrated at Viktor, sure. But Viktor’s angry that he’s not angry? Who the fuck does he think he is? Jayce can feel a heat bubbling in his chest, and his brows draw together. His fists ball tight.

“I don’t get to be angry.” Viktor looks up at Jayce’s words. “I’ve lived with shitty people for half of my life, never getting to leave or talk to anyone outside of my situation. For a lot of it, I was a teenager who had lost a father, freedom, and his future all in a flash.”

Viktor was silent, listening. He wasn’t crying- his eyes were dry- and yet, he looked very distressed.

“Dammit, Vik- Captain. If I got angry about every unfair thing in my life, I’d be nothing but anger. Just a bigass ball of hatred that lashed out at everyone for my own shit. But that fixes fucking nothing. I can be angry at the Kirammans, angry at you, angry at the fucking Gods, but none of it will change whatever fucked up situation I’m in. If I get angry, I’ve already lost.”

Jayce grabbed a pillow from behind himself, and curled around it, making himself as small as he could- but there was only so much a man as tall as Jayce could shrink. He tucked his chin over the top of the pillow, and melted forward.

The silence was broken by the captain, with his own name.

“Viktor.”

Jayce looked up. The captain’s eyes were trained on the floor. “You can call me Viktor. I- I’m sorry, I was being an asshole.”

Jayce huffs. “Yeah, you were.” They sit for a moment more in the quiet.

“Why?” Jayce finally asks. “What did I do wrong?”

Viktor’s gaze snaps up. “Jayce- no. You did nothing wrong.” Jayce sniffled, and with a start, he realized tears had begun to stream down his face.

“But last night- I must’ve-” Jayce can feel his breath coming to him in sharp pants. “Just tell me what I did wrong. I can fix it! I know I can be clingy and a crybaby and a child, but-” Jayce is interrupted as his vision goes dark. He hadn’t even noticed Viktor scoot closer to him until the captain’s hat was being placed gently onto his head, low over his eyes. Before Jayce could lift the brim of the hat and restore his vision, a tight warmth encircled his torso. Viktor pulls him into a not-quite-hug, holding Jayce tightly.

“Jayce-” Viktor began, “I receded because I have made myself far too comfortable in your space, when I have done nothing to earn your forgiveness for all my transgressions.” As quickly as Viktor had held Jayce, he was gone, pulling back as though burned. Jayce tilted the hat up, just in time to see Viktor’s embarrassed expression. “Much like I am doing now, I-”

Before Jayce could form words, Viktor had hauled himself off of the floor with his cane, and made his way to the door. Without looking back, Viktor paused in the doorway, clearing his throat. “You are free to explore the ship as you please. I’ll have someone come and find you when we dock at Marinn. Again, I am sorry, Jayce.”

Just like that, the captain- no, Viktor- was gone, and Jayce was left confused and alone in his wake, with nothing but a hat and his thoughts.

VIKTOR

If there’s one thing Jayce is good at, it’s making Viktor forget himself entirely. At a ball where his only mission was to get close to the princess before making demands, Jayce provoked Viktor into requesting a dance. Jayce made Viktor avoid most of his crew for three days because he couldn’t stand to see those sad puppy eyes or hear from his crewmates about Jayce’s solitude. And the man’s cries were so heartbreaking that he found his way into Viktor’s sympathy, and then his bed, even if only to fall asleep. And then, Jayce’s emotional vulnerability convinced Viktor to push him away, only to be yanked back into his orbit because of his raw reactions and interactions with his crew- even to the point where Viktor gave him his fucking hat.

Viktor’s cane echoed through the stairwell as he made his way to the main deck. It’s all Jayce’s fault, Viktor thought. Who does he think he is? To make me constantly forget what I’m doing? With his stupid gap-toothed smile and compelling hazel eyes and hands huge enough that they could easily-

Viktor stopped in his tracks.

Oh no.

He shook his head. Abso-fucking-lutely NOT.

Viktor had been… frustrated before. Sure. But those were simply personal bodily needs, fulfilled easily- over and done with. Hells, he had even fulfilled said needs with people currently on his ship. But it was always just sex. The urges had never before been provoked by another person. He’d found the physical urges inconvenient at best and maddening at worst, but never like this. This- this new attraction- felt somehow deeper. More than just routine maintenance or an itch to scratch. This was an all-consuming burn, tying Jayce’s arguably perfect, godlike physique to his fiery personality and rampant kindness and beautiful vulnerability.

Viktor painstakingly hauled himself up the stairs from the main deck to the quarter deck, throwing open the door to his quarters and slamming it behind him. He limped over to his desk- traveling up stairs as quickly as he had was not helpful to his leg or back- and slumped into his seat. He leaned his cane against the edge, barely flinching when it slid off of the desk and clattered to the floor. Viktor buried his head in his hands, inhaled deeply, and let out a near-silent scream.

“Well that’s healthy,” a voice lilted from above, and Viktor startled, nearly falling out of his chair and joining his cane on the floor. Powder’s legs swung into view from the rafters above. “You musta’ been really in your head if you didn’t even see me when ya’ stormed in, huh, Vik?” Powder smirked from their spot up above. Today, their braids were twisted into two big space buns. How they managed to be so agile with what must be a significant weight of hair on their head was beyond Viktor. The floor reverberated with a thud as Powder dropped down from the ceiling. They set a paper with their signature, colorful messy scrawl on Viktor’s desk. “Here’s the pew-pew inventory. What’s got your boxers in a twist?”

Viktor dropped his face into his hands. He released a sound that wouldn’t have been classified as human from afar, but was likely some sort of groan. “That bad, huh?” Powder smirked. Without lifting his head from his hands, Viktor nodded. “Anything specific? Or the usual existential doom and gloom?”

When Viktor remained silent, Powder filled the silence herself. “I could guess. But I’m really good at guessing,” she whispered, leaning in close to her brother. “Does it have to do with your missing hat and bright red face? You’re giving Vi’s hair a run for its money.”

Damn how observant his sibling is. He slowly, begrudgingly managed a nod.

“Ooh I love puzzles!” Powder clapped her hands. “ I can rule out any women ‘cause, you know,” she gestured to Viktor, “gay.” That prompted a snort from the gay.

Powder flops onto her back, laying across Viktor’s desk as she continues. “It’s not Scar, ‘cause you ended that fuck-buddy situation last month. There’s Ekko, but you’d never break sibling code. Mylo and Claggor, but they’re basically our cousins, that’d feel like incest and you have taste. Rennie is new, but he’s painfully straight and stupid and in love with Gert- but YOU DIDN’T HEAR THAT FROM ME!” She whisper-shouts, jabbing a finger in Viktor’s direction. “Lucas and Owen, but they’re married, and you’re not a homewrecker. Which leaves-” Powder’s eyes widen as they bolt upright. “NO.”
“Yes,” Viktor groans.

“VIKKIE, NO!” she gasps.

“I’m not exactly slap-happy about it myself!” he snaps back.

“Okay, okay, not the end of the world-” she starts.

“Not the end of the world? There’s a HUGE power imbalance, he hasn’t even been here a week, and in case you forgot, I FUCKING KIDNAPPED HIM!”

“...And he’s betrothed.”
“AND he’s betrothed, THANKS A LOT POWDER,” Viktor shouts. The two stare at each other for a moment.

“Well shit,” Powder breaks the silence.

Viktor leans back in his chair. “Shit, indeed.”

After a pause, Powder speaks up. “Are you sure it’s… about him?”
Viktor quirks his head. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe you’re just…” his sibling pauses, before making nonsensical gestures to convey her point.

“Just what, Powder?”

“... pent up?” she offers. In his surprise, Viktor’s chair tilts back a fraction too far, and he topples out of it.

“OW.” Viktor gets up off of the floor, righting his chair and slowly climbing back onto it. Powder watches, waiting for him to get up, and doesn’t offer to help. They know what it’s like to be treated like you’re fragile- it fucking sucks.

Viktor sighs. “I might be pent up. Just a tad-” Powder smiles at their accurate assessment, interrupting.

“So what’s the problem? You’re no blushing virgin, go get some! I don’t get why you’re having a conniption over the hottie with a body that you’ve kidnapped.”

Viktor rests his chin in his hands, his brows furrowed. “I don’t either.” He meets Powder’s eyes, which are surveying him with something close to awe. “What?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Powder shrugs, hopping off the table, then skipping out of the room. Before Viktor can interject or stop her, she prances out the door, only turning to give a mock salute and a “Good luck, Cap!”

Just like that, Powder was gone, and Viktor was left confused and alone in their wake, with nothing but a piece of paper and his thoughts.

Chapter Text

JAYCE

The gentle rocking of the ship was punctuated by yelling below. Jayce was situated in a corner of the quarter deck, overlooking the chaos of the main deck preparing to dock. Jayce wasn’t worrying about the several criminals aboard or the dangers of going ashore, out and about in a city for his first time in years. He was far too busy trying his absolute very best not to be in the way.

But, to be fair, it was very hard to concentrate when a certain captain was being very confident and in his element.

“MYLO, PULL THE MAIN! GERT, WEIGH ANCHOR!” Viktor shouted. Jayce was fuuucked. Who knew such loud noises could come from such small lungs? He couldn’t help but wonder what other noises Viktor could ma- “MAIN RIG, NOT MAIN SAIL MYLO, COME O- YOU KNOW BETTER!” Holy shit, Jayce needed to get it together. Even if Viktor had no right being that attractive. He commanded such attention, even without the captain’s hat that sat in Jayce’s lap, his fingers brushing along the fabrics.

A loud crash sounded, and Jayce’s gaze snapped to the barrel that had begun rolling away from the noise. Vi caught it in its journey across the deck by trapping it with her foot. She sighed loudly, murmuring someone’s name. The someone’s hand popped up from the mess of ropes and crates they had tumbled into, giving a thumbs up.

“‘M GOOD!” Rennie shouted, slowly untangling himself from the pile of stuff he had fallen into. He stood up, and hopped on one leg in attempt to free himself from a stubborn rope. He finally kicked it off, yelling “Sorry Vi, I’ll clean this up!”

Vi snorted, “Damn right you will. You made the mess, you clean it dumbass. You may need help though…” She looked around, and Jayce caught a glint in her eyes that he recognized as Powder’s mischievous ‘I’m about to do something that may or may not work but will absolutely be entertaining’ look. “GERT!” A head of brunette, purple threaded locs looked up from where she had been finishing up with the anchors. “Help Rennie with his mess, please.”

Gertrude pushed her locs out of her face with a sigh. “Alright pretty boy, let’s clean this shit up.”

“P-pretty boy?” Rennie practically squeaked.

Jayce watched their continued interaction with a smile, until Vi climbed to the quarter deck, unintentionally blocking Jayce’s view. “Playing matchmaker, Vi? Didn’t peg ya for the type,” he commented. Vi shrugged as Jayce continued, “Then again, Viktor set you up with Cait, so maybe it runs in the family.”

Vi pushes her pink hair out of her face with a scoff. Then, her face turns contemplative. “She uh- she’ll be okay, right? I didn’t mean to mess with her feelings or anything…”

Jayce raises an eyebrow, hesitantly offering, “I was joking- I thought you only flirted with her to- ya know- hold her captive.” Vi sighs in response, sinking down next to Jayce.

“Originally, Vikkie was supposed to get closer to her and be chosen so she’d pick him for the announcement. So he could be close enough to hold the princess captive IF Queen Bitch needed the push to pay up.” Jayce snorted at the reference to Cassandra as Queen Bitch. “But then you told Vik that Cupcake ‘prefers princesses’, and the plan had to change. But she’s-” Vi let out a dreamy sigh- “She’s really something.”

Jayce laughed. “So it was love at first broken nose?”

Vi shrugged. “It was already broken, hence why Ettie didn't make me bandage it at all or put it in a splint. Cupcake just made it bleed, she didn’t re-break it.”
“Ettie?” Jayce asked. “She’s the medic, right? Sh- wait, she?”

“She or they,” Vi confirmed, with a pleased hum.

“She’s just the medic, you’re the first mate, right?” Vi nodded at Jayce’s question. “If you outrank them, how could they ‘make’ you do anything?”

Vi chuckled. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of the medic, pretty boy- the only person who could save or kill ya?” Jayce laughed, conceding. “But uh- do you think Cupcake would ever…” Vi trailed off, brows drawn in frustration at her inability to find the words.

“Forgive you? Like you?” Jayce smiled. “Probably. She holds grudges, but she’d understand if I explained it to her. Honestly, she’d probably respect your loyalty. And she’s always been a fan of muscles, so you’ve got this in the bag.”

Vi looked back in surprise. “And you wouldn’t… be mad? You’d be okay with it?”

“Pfft- Gods- yes, Vi. You’re obviously obsessed with her, and can handle how stubborn she is. And you’re not WAY older than her, or male, so you’ve actually got a chance of her loving you. That’s more than I thought I’d be able to ask of any possible suitor of hers. You saw how many old men were at that stuffy ball, right? Knowing her, Cait’s probably still thinking of your ‘dumb muscles.’”

Vi smiled, a shy thing. Then glanced sideways at Jayce. “You think my muscles are dumb? Jayce I’m offended. Just ‘cause you don’t swing my way doesn’t mean you can insult my stunning physique.” Jayce smiled, but looked a little troubled. Vi broke the silence with a “What?”

“I do. Um- swing your way, that is. Don’t get me wrong! I’m not flirting with you or anything,” he rushed to clarify despite Vi’s blank expression. “I think I just… swing all the ways? I don’t know. It’s probably stupid, right? That I don’t know.”

Vi shook her head. “Not stupid. And I shouldn’t have assumed. Sorry.”

Jayce shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ve just never gotten to… explore or anything. Hell, I’ve never even been on a date!” He laughed, trying to disperse the awkwardness. “This probably isn’t what you want to hear from someone who… well.” Jayce paused, thinking. “Viktor deserves someone with more experience, who’s more… sure of themself.”

Vi shook her head, almost violently. “First off, experience or lack thereof isn’t a reason to like or not like someone. Would you hold Caitlyn’s lack of experience against her for liking me?”

Jayce startled, “No! Of course not-”

“So stop holding yourself to the same standard, cojudo.” Vi snorted, roughly mussing up Jayce’s hair.

“Okay, okay!” Jayce pushed her off, “Give my hair a break, cojuda!” Jayce laughed, calling Vi an idiot right back.
“And second,” Vi paused, leaning in, “Who said anything about Viktor?”

Jayce blushed.

FUCK.

Vi’s smile grew. “I fucking knew it! You’ve got the hots for my brother!”

Jayce shushed Vi, despite how quiet she was speaking. “Shh, I don’t- I never- oh fuck me.”

“I’m sure Vik would like to,” countered Vi, smugly.

“VIOLET, WHAT THE FUCK?” Jayce gasped, accosted by her openness.

Vi smirked. “I’m not wrong,” she smirked. “Even if the dumbass hasn’t realized it yet himself, you guys obviously have chemistry-”

“Kill me now-” Jayce muttered.

“Seriously, you guys are a romance just waiting to happen. What is it about him ya like?”
Jayce glanced up at Vi, trying to determine if she was making fun of him or not. When she turned to fully face him, giving Jayce her full attention, he sighed. “He’s just…” Jayce began, before shaking his head with a smile. “He’s so confident, and seems so sure of himself. I can tell he’s intelligent, with how he’s always observing everything, cataloging it away- at least from what I’ve seen. I like his eyes- they’re so pretty. He’s probably the prettiest man I’ve ever seen. Honestly, probably the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. And he’s got these two moles- one above his mouth and one under his eye, but up close he has a ton of faint freckles. And he’s kind, when he’s not being an asshole. Even before I was a prince, he just wanted to make me feel better, and he was the first person I’ve ever danced with. He doesn’t get mad that I cry a lot. He’s thoughtful, and gentle when he needs to be, while still so strong. He has a nice voice, and he sings beautifully-”

“He SANG to you?” Vi whisper shouted, her expression one of shock.

Jayce blushed deeply. “Ye-yeah. The other night. When I was crying.” Taking in Vi’s facial expression, Jayce quirks his head to the side. “Why? You’re acting like that’s something crazy.”

Vi shakes her head. “It is, but it’s not my story to-” she cuts herself off as her eyes catch on Jayce’s fingers, toying with the brim of Viktor’s hat. “IS THAT HIS FUCKING HAT?” she practically shrieks, any pretense at whispering gone.

“VI!” They were interrupted by a shout from the main deck. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, WE’RE ABOUT TO DOCK!”

Vi stood quickly, before turning to Jayce. “Duty calls,” she grunts, before fixing him with a glare “but we WILL be talking about this later!” She moves to the edge of the quarter deck, before descending the stairs. “I’M UP HERE VIK, CALM YOUR NONEXISTENT TITS!”

Jayce smiled as Vi stormed down to the main deck. The exchange left Jayce with a warm feeling. Maybe he wasn’t as… wrong for Viktor as he had thought. And maybe- just maybe- he should do something about that. His hands trailed along the silks and scraps of fabric that hung from the back of the hat like a tail. As he carded his fingers through the different textures affixed to the band of it, he noticed a splash of color along the brim of the hat that he hadn’t before seen. It was embroidery, unbelievably small, and a worn gold color. Against the faded, once-black coloration of the hat, it was barely noticeable- something you could only find if you were looking for it. Or, in Jayce’s case, pouring over the hat’s many details as though it would reveal the secrets of its wearer. Even if only for one word, he would have leaned in and pressed his ear to the brim, listening intently for a single whisper of what it had to say. For a piece of fabric meant to sit on one’s head, it seemed somehow deeply personal. Or at least, Viktor had made his hat deeply personal. Each thread and scarf gently attached to the hat, with care and deliberation. A small bead here, a metal loop there. And, seemingly hidden most of all, an embroidered statement. He brushed a fingertip along the golden cursive words.

Blisters & Bedrock.

“BRACE FOR DOCKING!” Viktor’s voice echoed across the Querida del Zaun.

Jayce jolted as the ship bumped harshly against the dock of Marinn.

VIKTOR

They’d made it.

Fucking finally.

The past few days had been… well, hell was putting it gently. The strands of his hair not fastened into a ponytail blew across his face. Some strands were braided, and featured small charms. Others were embroidered, or tied in thread, and some were simply plain. When blowing aggressively at his unruly hair didn’t work to clear his line of sight, Viktor reached up to tug his hat down, to secure the strands back. His fingers ghosted on empty air.

Ah, he thought. That’s right. I gave my hat to… to Jayce.

Fuck, Powder was never going to let him live this down. He sighed, and turned to his first mate. “Vi, command docking please.” He pawed at his throat, sore from his previous yelling. Vi never seemed to have such a problem.

“Sure, what’s the play?” Vi asked. With a ship that could pass for merchantry, piracy, privateering, or pleasure, their first acts ashore -verbal or physical- left an impression upon those at the docks, and therefore the city itself. This was especially important if they hadn’t already garnered a… reputation in said land. If the Querida del Zaun were to dock in a manner that indicated privateering, they may receive help from local government, and avoid trouble with the law. However, they would also be deemed untrustworthy by any less-than-lawful people and organizations they may have wanted to do business with. If they came out and announced their piracy, they may gain either the respect and trust or fear and mistrust of locals and government alike, depending on whatever recent interactions the land had experienced with piracy. Pleasure was tricky- they were often left alone by the law, but not taken seriously by those they wanted to do business with. And if they were to purchase too much, local law enforcement would become suspicious. Merchantry was often a safe enough bet, with the only downside being the expected professionalism his crew was not always able to maintain while ashore.

“Mm,” Viktor hummed, thinking. Marinn is close enough to the coast that piracy isn’t going to be thoroughly denounced or policed, with it supporting the local economy. And yet, some were likely to have already heard of a pirate kidnapping from Piltover.

“Let’s go with a mix of merchantry and piracy. Lean into economic gain, throw in some Zaunish and imply we came straight from there.” Vi nodded, before turning back to the crew, leaving Vik by his lonesome.

“ETTIE, PULL THE INVENTORY LISTS! SKY, SORT THE NEW WARES FROM ZAUN, DOSTAT SE K TOMU! RENNIE AND GERT, ON SKY. LUCAS, FIND YOUR HUSBAND AND TELL HIM TO READY THE PURSES FOR FIVE GROUPS ASHORE! CLAGGOR, GRAB THE GANGPLANK. SCAR, GO REGISTER US AT THE DOCKING CENTER, WE’RE IN BAY 4.” She peeks over the side of the ship, double checking the number painted on the dock. “SCRATCH THAT, SCAR! BAY 5.”

As Vi continues to belt out orders, Viktor watches as his crew jumps to fulfill their respective duties. They scurry across the deck, and the thumps of rapid footsteps and prosthetics hitting the deck fill his ears. Viktor prides himself on his crew. He had somewhat of a reputation in Zaun. When other crews wouldn’t hire someone- be it for age, disability, lack of mobility- citing ‘no use’ hiring them, a prospective crewmate would turn to Viktor. If they were truly willing to contribute to the crew, Viktor would find a use for them. Capable single mother, a package deal with her young, deaf daughter? Assign them to artillery- where someone could normally go deaf from such close proximity to the blasts, Isha wouldn’t. She made a wonderful powder monkey for the crew, running ammunition from place to place, without risking her hearing. A man who could never keep his balance on moving ships? Mylo became the master rigger, using his limbs and agility to pull himself from place to place while maintaining the sails, all from above the deck. A woman who is incredibly intelligent and fantastic with maps but cannot handle blood? Sky made a wonderful cartographer, and pulled her weight in organization and analysis from the archives. A hulking figure with poor vision, incapable of fighting for fear of hitting friend rather than foe? Claggor’s nose was in working order, as were his hands and tastebuds- he was the best chef and boatswain they could’ve asked for. A man with seemingly no piracy experience or exposure, and newly an amputee? Viktor built him a prosthetic, and now Owen ran the financial aspects of piracy while a quick learner to all else, especially walking and fighting with his new leg. He was scarily good at sounding posh or high-class, and was an invaluable resource when it came to negotiation. A barely 19 year old kid, with a spotty past and infamous for their capability of violence? Ettie was the most amazing medic Viktor had met, having saved several lives on the crew, several times over, and with a loyalty that was earned slowly but unshakeable.

A mixed bunch, sure. But Viktor wouldn’t have it any other way. His eyes scanned across his crew, finally landing on the large man curled in on himself in the corner. He was seemingly trying his best to stay out of the way of all the moving parts and chaos that docking a ship so large constituted. Jayce sat, signing back and forth with Isha, and laughing as his hand reached up to scratch at the beard that was quickly growing in from his previous five o’clock shadow. He nodded at her responses, and the hat- Viktor’s hat- that sat on his head bobbed with the movement. Jayce’s fingers moved quickly, telling Isha of some story or joke involving mermaids. With all the strays he had brought onto his crew, Viktor couldn’t help but wonder what Jayce would bring to the table.

He’s probably good with his hands-

Viktor jolted at the thought that had brushed across his consciousness. Hovno, he thought, Powder’s right. I am pent up.

He shook his head, but his eyes still stayed locked on Jayce. As though tipped off by some malevolent god of fate, Jayce’s gaze flicked from Isha’s story to Viktor’s. Hazel held gold, and Viktor found he couldn’t look away. Jayce smiled softly, and Viktor returned the gesture shyly. Isha’s tiny fingers snapped in front of Jayce’s face, and frustratingly reminded him with her hands that “I need your eyes, dummy. I can’t talk like you! Make goo-goo eyes at Uncle V another time-!”

Viktor turned before he would need to see more of the exchange. He smiled to himself. Then he stopped smiling. He was so, absolutely, absurdly, annoyingly fucked. Watching an admittedly handsome man exchange heartwarming conversation with his niece shouldn’t move him this much. He felt almost… hot and bothered? But in an emotional sense? He couldn’t figure it out for the life of him. He shrugged off his worries, rolling his shoulders to prompt a physical release of tension as well. Viktor took a deep breath, and made his way from the quarter deck to the main. He stepped to the side of the ship nearest the dock, approaching the gangway. It was a sliding portion of the wall, which, while sailing, functioned as an average section of the border to the deck, about four feet high, preventing anyone from going overboard accidentally. Now, however, Viktor leaned down and grabbed the handle, unlatching and sliding the wall away into the hollow section next to it. He smiled as he saw Claggor climb up to the main deck, gangplank in tow. The long board of wood was thick and steady, and, once connected to the ship and lowered to the dock, allowed for easy access to and from. Claggor kneeled down, fastening the gangplank to the latches on the ship, unveiled after Viktor had moved the door. With the gangplank connected to the gangway, the two men each grabbed the ropes attached to the plank, lowering it slowly to the dock, just as one would lower a drawbridge to a moat. The plank hit the dock with a loud thump, and Claggor tested it by walking up and down a few times. He finally took the rope from Viktor, and made his way to the bottom, tying the gangplank to the iron loops fixed to the dock. After jumping up and down on the middle of the plank- between ship and dock- he deemed it safe for use and gave Viktor a thumbs up.

With a huff at his cousin’s antics, Viktor turned and yelled to Vi. “CLEAR TO DEBARK!” Vi echoed the order across the ship, and Viktor smiled. They had made it to Marinn.

Viktor could not keep having this conversation. He was at the docking center, trying desperately to pay for his ship’s landing.

“Sir, I’m telling you that I can sign your papers right here and now,” Viktor sighed.

“And I’m telling you that only the Captain of a ship can sign off on docking registration. Just let your Captain sign it.” The scruffy looking blond officer scratches his stomach, seemingly frustrated at Viktor’s response.

“Ay, Jueputa- I AM the Captain,” Viktor practically growls, “which I have told you already four times.”

“You? No, have him sign it,” The man pushes the papers toward Scar. Viktor had brought Scar along, as well as Owen, just in case there was any trouble- but this was ridiculous. Though Scar cut a striking figure- about 6’6, slim and yet muscular, he remained quiet and still, refusing to take the papers.

“Can’t,” Scar said, “‘m illiterate.”

Viktor bit back a smile. Scar was decidedly not illiterate. He read and wrote in his spare time, and presided over a book club with Owen, Sky, Viktor, and Ollie.

“You, then,” the man pushed the papers towards Owen.

“Sorry, I don’t have my glasses,” Owen shrugged. Viktor had to once again conceal his smirk. Owen did not wear glasses.

The officer growled in frustration.
“I can sign them, Officer. I don’t understand the issue- I’ve informed you that I’m the Captain, which my crew here corroborates, and yet you were willing to have either of them sign?” Viktor asked, despite knowing that the officer would fail to see logic.

“I’m not lettin’ a fuckin’ crip sign unless I see a goddamn Captain’s hat!” the man spat.

Scar stepped forward menacingly, but Viktor held up a hand, and Scar stilled. Viktor turned calmly to Owen, who looked thoroughly enraged, being a ‘crip’ himself. “Owen,” Viktor calmly asked, “would you please return to the ship and fetch Jayce? Ask him to bring what I gave him this morning.”

Owen nods, before signing rapid fire at Viktor.

Please, can I-

Go ahead, Viktor signs back, despite not even knowing what Owen would request.

Owen didn’t disappoint. He lifted his skirt, then his prosthetic leg, allowing the painted metal to glint in the light before he brought it down hard on the officer’s foot.

“OW, MOTHERF-”

“Oh gods! I’m SO sorry! I’m such a clumsy crip, I can barely control this leg!” Owen feigned innocence, though his stomping was very obviously not accidental. He dropped his skirt, turning and saluting Viktor, then taking off towards the ship. Prosthetics didn’t always allow for such rapid motion, but damn was Owen fast.

The officer was still hopping on his good foot, clutching the stomped one with a stream of obscenities.

“Officer… Rolen, wasn’t it?” Viktor offered, receiving a grunt from the man in response. “I’m terribly sorry about that. My crewmate will be back soon, and we’ll have all this sorted out.”

The man- Officer Rolen- seemed ready to turn his obscenities and fury towards Viktor, when he caught sight of something approaching from behind Viktor- or rather, someone.

“There, see?” The officer laughed, smug. “Now that’s a Captain!”

As Viktor turned over his shoulder to see Jayce rapidly approaching, Owen in tow, he inhaled sharply. Jayce certainly looked the part. If Scar cut a figure against the skyline, Jayce was the fucking sun. Tan skin, kissed in bronze. He hadn’t changed since the other day, but he still commanded Viktor’s attention. A simple linen shirt left slightly open at the top loosely draped his frame while hugging his broad shoulders. He stood tall, and though four inches shorter than Scar, his stature exuded confidence and a commanding presence. The pants he wore were obviously not his, short but loose, and fastened in a belt that accentuated Jayce’s shockingly skinny waist. Viktor glanced up to see his brows set, one scarred, and a blank, emotionless expression. And above that, silhouetting Jayce’s head, fabric scraps waving in the breeze- Viktor’s fucking hat. On Jayce’s head. He saw the moment Scar’s gaze landed on Jayce, making a little amused noise in the back of his throat, glancing to Viktor and back again.

Jayce stopped next to Viktor.

“Owen said there was something I could help with?” he asked, eyes trained only on Viktor.

“Yes,” Officer Rolen groaned, “fucking finally. I’ve been telling your crew here that only the Captain can sign the docking papers.”

Jayce finally looked to the officer, brows adorably furrowed. He turned back to Viktor, and signed, Is this guy for real?

Viktor nodded in lieu of a response. “Officer Rolen here says he ‘won’t let a crip sign unless he sees a goddamn captain’s hat,’” Viktor offers, providing air quotes with his fingers.

Snorting, Jayce plucked the hat from his own head, placing it gently on Viktor’s. He settled the hat securely, and tucked a stray strand of Viktor’s hair behind his ear, before nodding, satisfied. Viktor’s breath caught. Jayce stepped back, his hand resting protectively at the small of Viktor’s back.

“Now, where were those papers?” Jayce asked.

Viktor didn’t even try to fight his smile this time.

The soft smile persisted, along with a warm feeling long after they signed the papers and Jayce’s hand had left his back with what felt like a burning presence. Viktor smiled as they loaded the rented merchant carts, and as they distributed the shopping lists Sky had made from the inventories. His smile didn’t fade, even as they all left the docks, taking their first steps onto the island of Marinn.

Chapter Text

VIKTOR

Viktor was with his hat for about twenty seconds following their confrontation with the officer before he had conceded to his baser instinct and returned the hat to its rightful (in Viktor’s opinion) place way up high on Jayce’s head.

As they walked the carts into town, he couldn’t stop his eyes from straying to the tall man. Open, bright, social, happy. This man was an antithesis to the one he had met in the castle. Unfortunately, Viktor found this version of Jayce just as- if not more- attractive than the one he had danced with.

He supposed a part of it was awe. Jayce was vulnerable- beautifully so. He released his traumas and hopes and dreams from their cages with such trust. Viktor couldn’t imagine letting his from behind their bars, under lock and key. Jayce’s may have been eager and awkward, yet he allowed them to fly from the pit in his chest with seemingly such ease. Viktor’s? Viktor’s truths were ugly. Were it up to Viktor, said secrets would never see the light of day. They’d fester and rot and die in the cage of Viktor’s heart, never knowing the heartbreaking relief of spreading their wings.

Viktor knew he ‘should’ talk about things- Ettie said it was the first step to processing it. But he didn’t need to process things. He had fucking lived them.

He lived them, despite spending every waking second of those years wishing he would no longer- well. A life with so many things locked away was far from Viktor’s idea of a life. He supposed, in a way, it wasn’t. A part of him had died on that ship. In a tiny closet, chained and broken, breathing each day despite his best attempts otherwise.

No, Viktor may have returned from the ship, but he was far from whole. He was a fragmented version of his former self, barely recognizable to his own family.

He remembered so clearly the shock on their faces- the way Vander’s gaze had glanced past him as he scanned the faces of each prisoner, only to snap back and meet his golden eyes. He remembered the stuttering voice that had cautiously asked “V- Vikkie?”

He remembered his other father clamoring into the room, looking for Vander, before his attention landed on his son. Silco had seen Vander’s expression, following his eyeline to where Viktor stood, swaying for reasons other than the rock of the ship.

Viktor will never forget the moment when his fathers saw him. Not when they had seen him- when they truly saw him. Vander froze, each muscle locking up as his mind locked down. Silco, the man who had birthed Viktor, seen him at his very beginning and most vulnerable, looked upon his son with something akin to horror.

In all fairness, Viktor supposed it should have been expected. It had been- Gods, years, since they had last seen him. And there he was. In the dim hull of the ship, matted hair down to his hips, more purple bruising than skin. Fingernails broken and bloody and splintered from the years of scratching at the walls to count the days. And then the weeks. And then the months. And then the years. Tall, skinny, yet curled in on himself. The twist of his leg accented by the metal cuff that he still dragged by his ankle. His face beaten, an eye swollen, dried blood crusting on every surface. The paleness of his skin, exacerbated by how long he had been without sunlight. The look in his eyes, and the immediate understanding it gave to his fathers-

Sullen. Empty. Broken.

But alive.

“You okay, V?”

A sweet voice brought him back to the present. The crunch of gravel sounded from beneath his feet. He could smell a pastry shop from the road ahead. He could feel the scorching presence of a hand at his back. They had crossed through the gates into the center city, and Viktor hadn’t even noticed. Vi must have handled the commerce permissions. He jolted forward, out of reach of the man who made him… feel things.

“Fine, Jayce, thank you,” he offered shortly. He felt another’s eyes on him, and turned to meet Powder’s piercing gaze at his right. He gave her a soft smile. Jayce faltered in his pace, before jogging to catch up with the head of the cart. Viktor watched as he found Isha, and reached for her, before pausing and pulling back.

Can I pick you up? Jayce signed.

Yes! I’m the monkey! Isha signed back.

Instead of hauling her onto his back, Jayce crouched and lifted her onto his shoulders. Isha giggled- a beautiful sound that was slowly becoming less rare. Jayce smiled, lifting his hands into Isha’s eyesight before signing, Tap my cheek if you want ‘down,’ okay?

Isha drummed on Jayce’s head  in response- well, on Viktor’s hat on Jayce’s head. Jayce laughed.

And Viktor- gods, Viktor loved it. What he would do to hear that laugh all he could. What he would do to ensure Jayce always had something to laugh about. What Viktor would do to have Jayce-

Viktor stopped in his tracks.

Powder turned back to him as the rest of their humble caravan continued further into town. Before she could say a thing, Viktor’s gaze lifted to meet hers. “Do you think Tvá Touha is still in business?” Powder’s mouth opened in a small show of surprise.

“I- really Vik?” she asked. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Viktor shrugged. “Might as well, don’t you think? Can’t hurt-”

“Might hurt,” Powder muttered.

Viktor scoffed. “You’re overexaggerating. I just need this out of my system. Eh- ‘pent up,’ as you hypothesized. Tell Vi where I went?”

Powder shook her head. “Fine V, you’re a big boy, and you can make big boy decisions. I just-” she sighed. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Viktor quirked his head. “This is no different than any other time I’ve gone. It’ll be fine.” He turned, making his way off to Tvá Touha.

JAYCE

By the time Powder caught up with the group, they had already rented and pitched three separate merchant tents, divvied up the wares, and begun placing things out. Jayce was doing a particularly good job of organizing things in a way that made sense at first glance- years of disciplined cleanliness in his ‘lab’ paid off.

“Pow pow! Welcome back-” Vi began, before taking a glance past her sibling. “Where’s Vik?”
Powder sighed, looking from Jayce to Vi, before finally conceding. “He went to Tvá Touha.”

Vi recoiled instantly. “The fuck?” she grunted. “You sure? Why would he-”

“He told me to tell you, so you’d know where he was,” Powder snorted. “I think it’s the dumbest fucking idea he’s had since the time with the marmalade-”

“We do NOT speak of that incident!” piped up Ekko from the other tent, where he was working with Scar and Rennie to untangle a huge rope. “What’d he do now?”

“Went to fuckin Tvá Touha-” Vi cursed.

Ekko’s jaw dropped. “Really? Now? That’s so-”

“-stupid, I know.” Vi interrupted. Jayce, who had been patiently waiting his turn to speak, realized this wasn’t a conversation he would receive an invitation to.

“Vi?” he asked, and the first mate turned to him.

“Fuck- I-” she breathed. “Pretty boy, do you speak Zaunnish?”
“A few words,” Jayce admitted. “But not those ones. What’s Tah-vah taw-ha?” Jayce knew he was butchering the pronunciation, but his questions trumped his embarrassment. “Is Viktor in trouble?”

A deep chuckle sounded from near Ekko. Scar stood, turning to Jayce. “It translates to ‘Desire of Yours.’”

“Oh.” Jayce said, thinking. “Is it a bar? It’s the middle of the day-” he began, but he was interrupted by the taller man.
“It’s not a bar-”

“Scar-” Vi warned, but it was too late.

“Tvá Touha is a brothel.”

Jayce went still.

“Scar what the fuck-” Vi began, but Powder cut her off.

“It’s fine Vi, he’d have figured it out eventually,” Powder began, before turning to Jayce. “You good, man?”

Jayce was far away.

The word echoed in his head.

Brothel. Brothel. Brothel. Brothel. Brothel.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Viktor has needs. Like any human being. But they weren’t needs that were even on Jayce’s radar. He was sheltered, sure, but he read. He knew of brothels, sex workers, pleasurehouses, and the like. But the act of attending one wasn’t even something he could begin to comprehend.

It wasn’t a matter of shame- Jayce wasn’t appalled or disgusted. After all, he had needs too. So many nights in his room in the palace, he had locked his door, slid under the covers and out of his boxers, before slowly coaxing himself to hardness. So many lonely nights with nothing but his own hand to furiously stroke his cock as he muffled his sounds, begging his body to let him finish so he could be done with it all. So many nights alone.

It wasn’t that he hated sex- or, at least, the concept of it- it had just never… mattered to Jayce. There was never a person who caused a stirring in his groin or the desire to climb into bed with another. He wasn’t opposed to the idea. Jayce knew it could be… pleasurable- his solo sessions had shown him that. He had simply never had the desire to hold another- to trail his fingers down their body, leaving kisses in his wake, or groan with their name on his lips.

But now? He couldn’t understand why it hurt.

He and Viktor weren’t… anything. Just today, Jayce had been angry at the man for yanking him around in a game of emotional tug of war. Just this morning, Viktor had apologized for making himself too comfortable in Jayce’s space. Just today, he had smiled at Jayce as though he was the sun, and Jayce had felt a flicker of something that felt suspiciously like… hope.

That feeling was gone. A pit had opened in the ground and swallowed him hole.

Had he imagined it all?

Had he been seeing things that weren’t there?

Had the whole thing been the hopeful ramblings of a lonely man, desperate for any connection? Desperate enough to fabricate it in his own mind?

He could distantly hear Vi asking if he was okay. He gave an affirmative, dismissive response that he himself didn’t hear. What… was real?

He looked to the box in his hands, full of gears and pieces of machinery.

Work, he thought.

Work is real. I don’t need to think of anything else.

After all, he thought, with a dry scoff, it’s all in my head.

VIKTOR

He had done this enough times to know what to expect. Not enough times that he couldn’t count them on his hands, but enough to the point that his nerves were practically nonexistent in the presence of such a familiar situation.

Viktor handed his gun and knives to the bouncer at the front, who in turn, gave him a bracelet for the later retrieval of his possessions. Luckily, he kept his cane. As much as his siblings teased him for how obviously it was thathis cane housed a sword, he never seemed to be called out on it. He smiled. No one suspects the cripple. He made his way to the office, where a woman at the front desk sat, painting her nails with disinterest.

“Hello,” offered Viktor.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, kid?” the lady finally croaked, with the voice of someone who ate cigars for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“A man. Top, between twenty-two and twenty-eight.” Viktor spoke after a thoughtful second, without a hint of embarrassment.

“Want one with a cunt or cock? And what equipment are you working with?” the lady asked, flipping through a book.

“Cock and cunt, respectively,” Viktor said, watching as the woman’s finger trailed along a schedule, leaving red nail polish in the wake of her fingertip.

“Mm,” the woman grunted, looking Viktor up and down. “You like ‘em big?”

“That’s fine,” Viktor said, begging his mind to stay far from a particular big man, who was almost undoubtedly big in other places…

“Alright,” she finally said. “Donovan can take you. Give him five minutes to clean up, then you’ll be in room seven.”

“Thank you,” Viktor nodded. “How much do I owe?”

“Half now, half after. It’s a hundred n’ ninety silver total, assuming you want the full package for an hour.” The woman smirked, quirking a brow at Viktor.

“Not a problem,” Viktor said, quickly and precisely counting out ninety five silver, before sliding them across the counter.

The woman snorted, quickly recounting before reaching and sliding all the coins off the counter and into a drawer. “I’ll call you when he’s ready. You’re number seven.”

Viktor nodded, before turning and sitting on a small couch in the waiting room.

He was doing this.

He was doing this.

Viktor looked around, seeing nothing. He willed his mind to focus on the upcoming pleasure, to get excited for what he had paid for.

His leg hurt. His back ached. His head pounded. He missed his own bed. He missed fucking someone he knew. Someone who knew him, and who wanted to fuck him anyway. He wanted large hands to hold him like he was special, for hips to fuck into him like he was needed. For someone to be rough because he wanted it. To not treat him fragile, knowing he could take it, but simultaneously gentle and attentive because he was cared for.

He hated getting naked for someone. For them to see the scars, the evidence of his trauma. The marks in his skin, engraved in his very being. He hated the raised eyebrows at his nakedly obvious transness. He hated the look of surprise that he could have needs, that he would want things, that he would know what he was doing.

He wanted to be held. He wanted to be held and fucked like he mattered. He wanted to feel tears on his cheeks from someone else as they thrusted in, gentle drops of overwhelm, falling from eyes of hazel-

“Seven, please,” The woman spoke.

Viktor stood, brushing the nonexistent dust from his lap. He made his way through the hall, stopping in front of room seven. With a deep breath, he pushed open the door.

A shirtless man was standing at the table near the bed. He poured from a flask into two cups.

“Drink?” he asked, his voice a deep timbre.

“No, thank you,” Viktor responded. The man was… fine, Viktor supposed.

Tall. Muscular. Sharp jawline. Light skin and deep blue eyes. His black hair caught the light of the lantern as he turned to Viktor.

“You know the color system?” the man- Donovan, Viktor remembered- asked.

“Green for go ahead, yellow for pause, red for stop,” Viktor recited. The man nodded in praise.

“Any hard rules?” he asked.

Viktor thought for a moment, before responding. “No hitting. No feminization. Be rough, but mind my leg and back. No degradation. Hair pulling is fine. No bodily fluids. Use protection. No marks.”

The man nodded, before holding out an arm in invitation. “What should I call you?”

“V,” Viktor offered. Arms slipped around Viktor’s waist, and the man leaned in, lips offered, but Viktor turned his head. “Not on the mouth. I should have specified.”

“That’s fine, V,” Donovan smiled. Taking Viktor’s arm, he led him to the bed, laying him down. He followed quickly, his arms caging in Viktor as he mouthed at his neck. Viktor let out a soft groan, and tangled his fingers in Donovan’s hair. Donovan kissed down to his collarbones, unlacing the front of Viktor’s shirt as he went. Viktor knew his body was reacting. He felt the wetness gathering between his legs, but his brain failed to get with the program.

Just give it a minute, he thought. It’ll feel good in a bit.

Viktor’s hands trailed Donovan’s front. His abs were firm against Viktor’s touch. Viktor was flattered to find a similar hardness tenting the front of the other man’s trousers, and Donovan groaned at his touch, moving to position himself between Viktor’s thighs. Viktor felt fingers slip under his waistband, above his boxers. Rough fingers trailed between his clothed folds, pressing and tracing a circle at the crest.

Viktor inhaled.

In a minute. It’ll feel good in just a minute. Almost there.

It had never taken Viktor this long to… want what was in front of him. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes as his nails dug into Donovan’s shoulders. The fingers continued to move against him, and Viktor found himself unconsciously rocking up. “That’s it baby,” Donovan whispered. “Tell me what you want, handsome.”

Viktor’s eyes snapped open. His body wanted this. He was already halfway there. He- he wanted this. He wanted this. He wanted this. He didn’t- he didn’t want- He wanted J-

“Red,” he bit out. Donovan immediately pulled back, quickly extracting his hands from Viktor’s trousers and putting both palms in the air by his head, sitting back on his knees. Viktor realized he had been hyperventilating, his pulse racing and breath coming in sharp pants.

“You okay, V?” the man asked, a concerned tone to his voice. But it was the wrong voice. A cruel parroting of the same question he had been asked earlier, but it was all wrong.

“Yes, I-” he panted, looking at the blue eyes trained on him. They were wrong too. “Just- changed my mind.”

Donovan nodded, backing off immediately. He stepped off the bed, offering a hand to pull Viktor up. He took it, and Donovan smiled. "I’ll tell Betty at reception to give you a half-refund.”
Viktor smiled shakily. “Thanks. It wasn’t- it wasn’t you, you were great-”

“Oh I know, darling,” Donovan chuckled softly. “I’m very confident in my abilities. Go ahead and freshen up, I’ll leave you the room for a few minutes. Come down when you’re ready.”

Viktor nodded. The door closed, and he fell back down to the bed. He laced up the front of his shirt, rebuttoned his pants, then grabbed his cane and made his way to the mirror. He raked his fingers through his lightly sex-mussed hair, calming it down somewhat. He breathed deeply, willing the sting in his eyes to fade.

He made his way down the stairs, passing Donovan on the way. The man held a small bag out to Viktor. Viktor took it, hearing the coins jingling as he tucked it away in his pocket. After a final nod to the man, Viktor left. He retrieved his weaponry, and stepped out into the sunlight in a daze.

His footsteps carried him slowly but surely to the city center, where he remembers the crew always loves to set up. Before he could wrap his mind around the last twenty or so minutes, he stops at a voice he recognizes.

“Welcome back, V,” Powder says, startlingly calmly.

Viktor’s eyes snapped up, before trailing over his crew- all of whom had looked up at the news that he was back. He let out a sigh. His crew was shit at secrets. At the thought, his eyes darted around, looking for a hulking figure. Vi caught his eye, before jerking her head at the floor.

Jayce sat on the cobblestone, fiddling with gears and the like. His fingers twisted a screw into place, shifted a metal plate, and turned over a small object rapidly. His voice cut through the silence. “Did you have fun?”

Viktor recoiled as though struck.

“No,” he finally managed. “I… cancelled my appointment halfway through.”

Jayce finally looked up, meeting Viktor’s eyes. Viktor’s breath caught. Jayce’s eyes, they were… hollow. Unseeing. Uncaring. Viktor couldn’t understand why the sight bothered him so much. He looked away, brows furrowed. He turned to Powder, saying, “Your hypothesis was incorrect, by the way.”

She smiled softly, but…sadly. “Glad to hear it.”

Everyone went back to their duties. They swept at the cobblestone, took payment from customers, or bargained with other shopkeepers.

Everyone had moved on.

Everyone but Jayce.

Chapter Text

JAYCE

He grunted as he set aside a wrench. Jayce grabbed the small spring, and slid it up the miniscule metal piping. Using the smooth rock Isha had found him, he set a thin metal plate down, raising his mallet and swiftly swinging it. It didn’t require much force- the plates were already sized, and simply needed to be curved into shape. The gentle tap tap tap of his work sounded through the tent. It created a pounding- yet constant- background noise to Jayce’s thoughts. Or, at least, the absence of them.

Bickering and bargaining echoed from the voices flowing in and out of the market. Vi’s voice laughed, loudly. Powder snickered, and Ekko shouted something unintelligible.

Jayce’s ear hurt. The working one. The castle was always so… quiet. And now, he was constantly immersed in sound. His head felt off-kilter. The hearing in his right ear left him feeling heavier on that side, and his neck strained as he moved to overcompensate. His left ear ached in an indescribable way. There was no input, but it still felt as though each sound had slammed against it, being denied entry.

Fuck this, he thought. “Vi-” Jayce began, but the echo of his own words in his head left it pounding. Luckily, Violet turned at the mention of her name.

Weird question. Do you have ear protection? Jayce signed.

“No, I don-” Vi paused as she saw Jayce’s face contort into a wince.

No, but there was a blacksmith here just a second ago, he bought some flint. Maybe he will? She offered.

Jayce nodded. Where’d he go?

Vi pointed, and Jayce saw the hulking figure of an ash-covered man making his way through the stalls. Jayce pushed himself to his feet, before starting off in the direction of the man. Vi grabbed his wrist, and pressed a coin pouch into his hands, then signed, Don’t lose them. Jayce nodded, hurrying over to the man. After unsuccessfully calling the man with several ‘excuse me’s and ‘hello sir’s, Jayce jogged in front of him, placing himself in the giant’s path.

“Hi, sorry sir. Are you a blacksmith?” Jayce offered, ignoring the way his own voice made his head pound.

The man’s brow furrowed. He slowly spoke, with little diction.

“Cahn’t… hee-yer, lad,” he said, pointing at his ears. “Soh-rry.”

Jayce shoved his newly acquired purse into a small pocket on his pants, freeing his hands, before hopefully asking, Do you sign? The other man immediately exhaled, tense body language loosening with an affirmative sign. Do you have earplugs? Jayce asked, before smacking himself lightly in the head. Sorry, obviously you don’t need them.

It’s fine, lad. The man laughed as his fingers flew. I have some down at the forge for my men who haven’t lost all their hearing yet- and sometimes my ears hurt with all the vibrations, even if I can’t hear.

Oh. Jayce wasn’t alone.

He let out a sigh of relief, and the man waved him forward. Come along then.

After briefly exchanging pleasantries as they meandered through town, the blacksmith, who introduced himself as Alejandro, turned in front of a shop labelled Fuego y Rosas. He led them around to the side of the building, pausing before a heavy metal door. The jingling sound was only one-fourth heard between the two men as the keys slotted into the lock and turned.

It’s a bit empty now. I gave everyone the day off to prepare for festival Don Ale Janna tomorrow. Alejandro’s hands flowed side to side before meeting together in prayer hands, signing the name of the wind deity.

What’s festival Don Ale Janna? Jayce asked. I’ve never heard of that. Sorry.

That’s okay. Alejandro snorted, I never hear of anything.

Jayce stopped short, before chuckling. It had been so long since he had heard- or rather seen- that stupid joke from his father’s hands, but it still made him smile and nod.

It’s a festival lad. A huge party, and Marinn goes crazy for it every year. It’s a celebration of the last year’s fortune and a plea for Janna’s winds to continue blessing us to be fortunate. Alejandro offers.

Fortunate how? Jayce asked.

Anything. Alejandro shrugged. Money, health, luck, love- you name it, people wish for it. What did you need again? Alejandro signed.

Ear protection, Jayce reminded. The large man gave a nod, then turned over his shoulder. While Alejandro busied himself in the search of something to help, Jayce took a moment to look around.

The forge was clearly well-loved. Though metal shavings and dust littered the floor, every surface was messily organized. Tools lay out of their positions, across the counters, but with an air of respect rather than carelessness. Photos of family hung at the blueprint desks, far from the flames but in direct view of each worker. Metal projects sat at each work station, paused- not abandoned. One in particular caught Jayce’s eye.

It was a small ship- beautifully made, meticulously detailed, and yet… broken. It was cracked along the hull, all the way to the back, where the rudder had snapped off. Even if it were the most hydrodynamic ship in every other way, the crack in the hull destined it to sink. Regardless of how calm the waters or how fortunate the winds, the small metal boat would fill with water before slowly slipping beneath the waves. Even if, by some miracle, it were able to float, the ship’s shattered rudder would prevent it from steering. Though a beautiful thing, and obviously the product of such hard work, it would never see the ocean.

His gaze continued to sweep the room, finally landing back on Alejandro, who was rummaging around a huge work station. He finally straightened with a triumphant sound, before lumbering back over to Jayce and holding out his hand with a flourish.

The contraption that was placed into Jayce’s hands was like nothing he had ever seen. Rather than a pot of wax to stuff in his ears, he now held a metal band, curved to match the shape of a head, padded in leather. Each end of the band featured a large metal cup. Upon closer inspection, turning the piece this way and that, Jayce found that each cup was padded with leather and stuffed with cloth, held back from the edges by a layer of mesh.

What… are these? Jayce asked.

The folks here and I call them h-e-a-d-s-e-t-s, Alejandro spelled out, because you set it on your head.

I’ve never seen these before. My dad worked in a forge, and he just used wax- Jayce began, before waving hands interrupted him.

We made them ourselves. They’re made by deaf people for deaf people, Alejandro explained. Want to try?

Jayce nodded furiously, and put the ‘headset’ back into Alejandro’s huge waiting hand. The man lifted the device, settling it onto Jayce’s head, so the cups rested over his ears. He gently let go, stepping back with a nod of approval. As Alejandro released his grip, the cups sealed over Jayce’s ears…

and the world went quiet.

No footsteps or shuffles from Alejandro’s movements.

No crashing of the waves from the nearby beach.

No hustle and bustle of the market or the street right outside the door.

Just silence.

Jayce felt his eyes welling up, and let out a shaky exhale of relief.

Thank you, he signed. Thank you, thank you so, SO much, I-

Breathe, lad, Alejandro signed, resting a steadying hand on Jayce’s shoulder.

Jayce inhaled deeply, before pulling out his coin pouch. How much do I owe you?

Mm. Alejandro quirked an eyebrow. Good question. We make them ourselves, never sold ‘em before. It costs maybe 30 silver for materials- then we can say another 10 for the labor of making it. Sound fair?

Jayce nodded, before pausing and pulling out his coin pouch. After counting up his coins (he had far more than the equivalent of 40 silver), he signed, Do you make smaller ones? There’s a deaf kid on the crew who works ammunition.

Alejandro’s eyebrows shot up, before nodding. He fished around his desk a bit before pulling out a smaller version of Jayce’s headset. This one was pink, and, while clearly well-loved, appeared to be in wonderful condition. Alejandro signed, These are my son’s, but he’s almost grown out of them anyway, and has been asking for a purple pair for weeks. I’ll throw these in for another 20 silver? So 60 silver total, for the pair?

Yes, please! Jayce signed, Thank you so much, Señor. Jayce moved towards a desk, setting down his coin purse and carefully pulling out the different coins. He found 4 gold pieces (worth 10 silver apiece), and 20 silvers. He counted again, just to be sure, then collected the owed coins and dropped them into Alejandro’s waiting hand.

No problem, lad. He signed, handing off the pink headset to Jayce in a small bag. Pleasure doing business. Can you get back to the town square yourself? I need to lock up.

Jayce nodded. He had always been good at directions.

Jayce, it turned out, was shit at directions. He looked around. He could’ve sworn this corridor had led to the city square. He took another turn, ending up at a closed library he had already passed twice. He slumped to the ground on the steps of the library, under a tiny awning, cursing under his breath- he had to have been gone for- at least an hour? Maybe two? He was just as shit at recognizing the passing of time as he was at directions.

There was no doubt about it.

Jayce was lost.

And that was when it started to rain.

VIKTOR

He ruined it.

Viktor ruined it.

He ruined any chance of ever- ever what? Being with Jayce? Loving Jayce?

It didn’t even matter. In six months, Jayce would be debarking onto the shore of Piltover, marry a beautiful Noxian princess, and Viktor would sail away with his 100,000 in gold. They were never going to last. Hell, they had never even started.

They didn’t break up. They were never even together.

So why the fuck did it hurt so bad?

“VIK!” the screaming voice of his sister interrupted his musings.
“Janna, Pow, WHAT?” he spun around from where his fingers had been moving the same Zaunite jewelry from space to space across the tables. They were all beautiful, delicately crafted pieces, made specially for sale outside of Zaun. The woman who had sold them to Viktor had insisted he “upcharge the Pilties for all they’re worth,” and Viktor intended to do just that. The gentle pattering of the rain on the tent almost drowned out Powder’s gasping breathing. She was doubled over, drenched, and red in the face, seemingly after having run in the rain to find Viktor. She took a deep, steadying breath before speaking.

“Jayce is missing.”

Viktor froze.

“He’s WHAT?” Viktor practically yelled.

“He’s gone, no one can find him! He went off following some blacksmith to get something, and-”

“On his OWN?” Viktor interrupted, lowering his voice but not his intensity. “A foreign, sheltered prince travelling with pirates in an unfamiliar country, and NO ONE went WITH HIM?”

“It wasn’t my choice, V! Isha and I were helping Claggor with produce, Vi’s the one who saw him off! But it’s been two hours now and still no Ja-”
“Two HOURS? And you’re JUST TELLING ME NOW?” Viktor was breathing deeply, desperately trying in vain to steady himself. His voice grew in volume as his panic rose. “WHY did he leave? Which way did he GO? WHA-”
“I. DON’T. KNOW,” Powder screamed back. By now, they had drawn the attention of at least their nearest customers with the volume of their argument. “So stop yelling at me!” Powder snapped, and Viktor saw the tears pooling in her eyes. His sibling’s tears pulled him back from his anger.

“Shit. Sorry, gunpow. I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” Viktor exhaled. Powder angrily wiped her tears.

“‘S fine-” she started, but Viktor interrupted.

“No, it’s not, and I’m sorry. Let’s head back to the main tent. We’ll- we’ll figure this out.” Viktor gently set his arm around his sibling’s shoulders, who relaxed slightly at the gesture. They made their way quickly to the main tent, Viktor’s cane slipping against the wet cobblestone and only finding a grip in the cracks between stones. Viktor loved the rain, but godsdamn did it make things inconvenient when disabled. 

He stumbled a few times, filling the silence between he and Powder by grumbling about how he needed to replace the pieces of his brace that were rusting. One strap was practically falling off. It had been hidden beneath the polished golden plates he’d fastened to the brace to sneak into the ball, but it was truly falling apart at the seams. However, Viktor supposed that shitty, breaking support was better than no support.

When they stepped under their crew’s central awning, Viktor collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands.

Shit.

SHIT.

He wanted to cuss in all four languages he was fluent in. He wanted to throw and smash things, eat a shit ton of pasta, and then go the fuck to sleep. He wanted to scream at the sky and the rain and Jayce and the Kiramanns and Piltover and the world despite knowing none of it would do shit.

He foggily recalled Jayce’s words from just the day before.

“If I got angry about every unfair thing in my life, I’d be nothing but anger,” something something, and then “-none of it will change whatever fucked up situation I’m in. If I get angry, I’ve already lost.”

Jayce had said it with such conviction, with such obvious repressed anger, with such- hopelessness. Jayce- gods, Jayce.

What if- Viktor thought, He’s lost? And alone? What if someone recognized him? What if he’s been kidnapped? What if-

What if he ran away?

He took a deep breath. Jayce would be well within his rights to run away- Viktor had fucked him over in every single way- what would Jayce possibly have to stay for?

He took another deep breath. No, this wasn’t the time. Even if Jayce did run away, there was no guarantee he was safe, and he was a necessity. To the crew’s finances. That was the only reason Viktor needed to know he was safe. Nothing else.

Viktor took a final deep breath, before standing slowly.

“¡QUERIDOS!” he shouted to his crew over the rain, and all the hustle and bustle nearby. The market was just so loud. Despite the volume, the crew all stopped and turned. “This is sensitive, so listen closely. The cargo we picked up from our last stop is gone. We don’t know where it is, but it has been gone for at least two hours. We need it found and brought back to the ship immediately.” He paused, finding everyone’s eyes widened, listening intently. He gave thought as to how to ensure the safety of his crew during the search. “I want everyone searching. Ollie and Owen will watch the stalls, it’s too slippery on the cobblestones for your prosthetic and wheelchair. Keep an eye on the square in case the cargo makes its way back here. Powder and Isha, it’s getting dark, so stay together. Go with Claggor back to the ship in case the cargo returns there. Everyone else, we’re searching in teams of two or three. Be cautious of calling for the cargo- we don’t want everyone to know what we’ve lost. Any questions?”

No one spoke.

“Groups of two or three,” at his word, everyone assembled into little teams. “Good. Does at least one person in each group have a whistle?”

The whistles were a stroke of genius, on Ollie’s part. The twenty-year old had determined that Isha needed a way to call for help should she need it. They fashioned a whistle for the kid, and after quite a few uses where it came quite in handy, Viktor had enlisted Ollie to create whistles for the rest of the crew, each with a different tone for each member.

In response to Viktor’s query, several whistles were raised in the air. “Good. One long blow if you find the cargo, three short blows for emergencies or to call for help.” He looked over his crew. “Stay together. Be quick. Be safe. Vamos!”

And so, the search began. As he watched his crew scatter into every possible direction, all Viktor could think was that Jayce better be okay.

If he wasn't-

No, Viktor couldn't even let his thoughts go there. 

Jayce would be okay. 

He had to be. 

Chapter Text

JAYCE

The rain was beautiful. It was really nice to be ‘hearing’ the rain through the soft vibrations of it against his skin and the floor, and not have to actually hear anything else. It was such an odd sensation- if Jayce tapped his foot against the ground or a finger against his jaw, he could feel the vibrations of it, and the sound of the movements and contact echoed against his own skin and reverberated throughout his skull. It was soothing to have control over the sounds surrounding him. The headset was magical- he couldn’t hear, and it was perfect.

Jayce pulled his legs to his chest, collecting them under the short awning. He looked left and right, and found the street to be absolutely empty. Not a soul passed by. No lights on in nearby buildings. No one to ask for directions. He leaned his head back against the library door, where it rested with a soft thud.

Just five more minutes of rest. Five more minutes, then he’d get up and try to get back to the ship.

To the crew.

To Viktor.

Gods, what was even the point? Jayce hadn’t planned to get lost. He hadn’t wanted to escape the crew or its Captain. He hadn’t tried to achieve this newfound freedo-

Freedom.

Janna, when was the last time Jayce was free?

The passing thought through Jayce for a loop. Not on the ship, when he was a hostage. Not at the castle, where he couldn’t leave or do anything to disturb the Kirammans’ plans. Not on Marcus’s ship, caught between the ocean and land. Not the ocean itself, trapped in a near-endless cycle of waves and storm. Not on the island of Aleus when the knights had come for his long-gone father.

It slowly hit Jayce that there was a moment, a day over a decade ago- before the knights came, or the ocean thrashed him, or Marcus took him, or the Kirammans kept him, or the crew captured him- where he was free. A day where he was unbound to anyone but his mother, without threats or control or ultimatums or coercion. A day that surely ended in peace, being tucked in by his mother. Where he nuzzled into his blankets and closed his eyes, dreams full of hope and expectations for the next day to be just as free as the one before. A day he couldn’t even remember.

It was his last one, and he had no idea.

Jayce was unsurprised to find tears rolling down his face, blurring with the rain that had collected in his hair after leaning forward. He shook his head, sending drops, tears, and thoughts alike flying. He tucked himself as close to the library door as possible. The wind had begun to push the rain at a slant, sending it pummeling against Jayce’s skin despite the cover he had under the awning of the library steps. He let out a sigh, and let his eyes flutter shut. Five more minutes.

Murmuring sounds perforated Jayce’s dreams, slowly and increasingly aggressive. He felt his eyebrows draw together in frustration. His clumsy, sleepy fingers signed, Five more minutes.

A rough movement yanked his newfound peace off of his head.

“He- HEY-” Jayce shouted as he felt the headset torn from his head, grating against his sensitive ears and pulling him forcefully awake. His eyes snapped open, his arm outstretched in a failed attempt to catch the wrist of the thief.

“Huh. So you can talk,” a voice mused.

The man before Jayce was blond and thin, yet tall and well-built. His rat-like appearance was only exacerbated by his shifty eyes that darted over Jayce, taking him in. They seemed to assess Jayce in pieces- taking in his muscles, his seated height, his chest- the eyes grazed over him hungrily, and held on certain parts of Jayce in a way that made him want to vomit. Jayce shrunk back at the scrutiny, which must have been the wrong move, as the man’s lips slowly spread to a wicked smile.

“And who might you be?” he asked.

“I-” Jayce cleared his throat. “G- give that back, please.”

The man held up the headset, turning it over in his slim fingers. “Hmm. Why?”

Jayce breathed shakily. “Because it’s mine. Please.”

“Hmm. But what is it?” the man asked, tossing the headset carelessly from hand to hand.

Jayce’s eyes followed the headset, flinching each time it was roughly caught and tossed.

Jayce had dealt with bullies before. When he was small, his baby fat and short stature had given no inclination of him becoming the tall wall of muscle he now was. As a kid in the castle, he had been one of the few people beneath new enforcers in the food chain- he was an easy target. He’d had his stuff stolen, his lab ransacked, been pushed around. All this to say, he was familiar with the taunting attitude this man was giving him. Back at the castle, the harassment had stopped when Jayce had shot above each knight in terms of height and build. He slowly stood, hoping his looming stature would have the same effect.

He unfolded to his full height, only to watch the blond man snort, hang the headset on a wrist, and pull a knife from his belt before twirling it across his fingers.

A threat- clear as day.

“I said,” the man repeated, pausing. “What is it?”

“A headset,” Jayce said slowly, trying desperately to keep his calm. This was the second time in a week he had been held at knifepoint, and he had to say he didn’t particularly enjoy it. At least when Vi had poked him, Jayce knew she was sane. This man- this man was dangerous. “It blocks sound. Helps when my ears hurt.”

“Mm.” The man made an amused noise, before turning his eyes back to Jayce. Jayce tried to discreetly take a deep breath, hoping to scream for help, but was immediately met with a blade at his neck, slicing cleanly through the top layer of skin. Jayce let out a whimper as he felt the warm trickle of what must be blood flow slowly down his neck, pooling in the divot of his collarbone.  “No, no. No singing for you, birdie. What else ya got?” the man asked, nodding to Jayce’s bag and brandishing the blade. Jayce held out his pack quietly. The man reached in, keeping his blade steadily at Jayce’s neck, still embedded in his skin as the other hand sifted through Jayce’s things. He pulled out the coin purse, jingled it, and tucked it into his pocket, smiling. He reached in for the other item- the pink headset- and lifted it out of the bag and into Jayce’s field of vision.

“Ya need two of these?” he asked with a smirk. Jayce shook his head.

“They’re for a- for-” he paused, thinking of how to describe Isha without mentioning the crew. The man turned the headset over in his hands, and his eyes slowly lit up.

“So small. They’re for ‘a’ what? A kid? Your kid?” he snorted.

Jayce exhaled heavily, brows drawing together. “Yeah.” He finally said. Fuck it. “For my kid. And I need to get back to her, and give her that. Please.”

“Ya know,”  the man said with a sigh, stepping closer to Jayce, “I fuckin hate the rain.” He eased his knife from Jayce’s throat, spinning it between his fingers. “You have a nice little shelter here. Don’t-cha, birdie?”

“I’m not terribly attached to it,” Jayce spoke, trying desperately to sound more confident than he was. “I’m willing to part with it if you give me those headsets back. Keep the coin, take the shelter. I don’t mind the rain.”

The man only snickered, once again looking Jayce up and down.

“Hmm,” he began, backing Jayce into a corner and brandishing his knife. “I think I like these head piece things. I’m starting to want you to take ‘em from me.” His eyes glinted, as he feigned inspecting the knife in his fingers. Jayce shrunk further.

“No, thank you. If you like it so much, keep mine, and give me my kid’s. Then I’ll be on my way.” He started, before a muscled arm cut off his escape route.

“Take it from me,” the man repeated.

“No,” Jayce said. “Just keep it,” he breathed, hoping the man would relent, and send him on his way.

“If you won’t take it from me,” the blond man said, reaching a hand to trail down Jayce’s side, “maybe I’ll just… take something from you.” He dropped the headsets with a loud clattering sound, and his hand continued its journey south, grabbing a handful of Jayce’s ass. Jayce straightened, jolting out of the man’s grip, but tumbling towards his chest instead. He tried to duck under the man’s other arm, but was stopped by a fierce grip and a glint of metal. “Such a pretty birdie, trying to fly away…” the man said, pushing Jayce up against the wall. He used his knife to guide Jayce’s chin back to meet his eyes. “Whatever will I do with you?”

VIKTOR

Over an hour of searching, and he hadn’t heard a single whistle.

So much could happen in an hour.

Vi tapped his shoulder. “Vik, we’ve already checked this street.”

He looked around, shielding his eyes against the rain with a hand. Fuck- Vi was right. The bakery on the corner, the forge behind them, and the familiar street sign confirmed it.  He cussed quietly, and Vi grunted in agreement.

Dear Janna, where could Jayce have gone?

They’d checked the beach, the forge, the market (twice), the docks, the cafes, and everywhere else they could think of. Viktor took a step closer to the wall, leaning on it and shifting his weight.

Fuck.

His knees ached. It was a bone-deep soreness that sent shivers of pain up his legs each time the joints slipped out of place. Viktor had lost count of how many times his knees had buckled, and he had caught himself on a wall or his cane. The overcompensation of his worse leg left his hip throbbing in pain at the uneven weight distribution. His wrist burned from the force of holding himself up against his cane. Tomorrow would definitely be a crutch day, if he even got up at all.

He pulled his hat down over his brow. The hat that Isha had shyly handed to him before joining her mother on the ship, having found it on the ground by Jayce’s unfinished project- a metal flower, one that would spring open in bloom when the leaves were shifted down.

Viktor couldn’t help but marvel at the incredible feat of metalwork. Delicate machinery and mechanisms of movement, sharp thorns and slicingly thin petals, all arranged into a lovely danger. Something that beckoned closer but promised sharp edges of pain at a single misstep. And yet- with the right push and pull, a gentle coaxing, and a steady hand, it could bloom past the pain to something devastatingly beautiful. Viktor faintly wondered what Jayce could have been inspired by.

It was almost enough to distract Viktor from the fact that Jayce had left behind his hat.

And dear Janna, if that didn’t fucking hurt…

There was no way Jayce knew the sea-faring implications a hat carried. No possibility that someone had explained it to him, or that he would even know to ask. So there was no way he understood what he had done by leaving it behind.

Not that it wasn’t deserved.

Viktor pushed his knuckles harshly against his eyes, forcing the black of his eyelids to dance with the varied colors of pressure. With a grunt and a deep breath, he pushed himself off the wall, turning to Vi.

“Alright genius,” she started. “This is our fault, and we’re gonna fix it.”
“Quite the stirring pep-talk, Violet-” he bit out.

“Oh shut it, V,” she snapped, eyes flashing with anger. Viktor was briefly taken aback by the emotion in them. He saw anger, yes, but also- guilt.

And a shit ton of it.

“Vi-” he began.

“It’s my fault!” she cried, angry and tearless. “I was supposed to watch him! You trusted ME and I fucked it up!”
“Violet-”

“He could be hurt! Or kidnapped or- or WORSE! Gods, V, he could be dea-”

“Violet.” Without raising his voice, Viktor put as much command and conviction into it as he could. Vi’s powder-blue eyes snapped up to meet Viktor’s golden ones. “Deep breath. We will find him. Our family does not give up on our lost-”

“-til dead and set to sea ,” Vi finished, breathing heavily.

“Exactly. You and our fathers did not give up on me. Not for years. We will not give up on Jayce. It has been approximately four hours now. We will find him.”

Vi nodded, exhaling while managing a steady, cautious gaze. “What if we don’t find him today?”

“Then we’ll find him tomorrow.” Viktor answered simply. “Or the day after. Or the next. We will tear the sea wave from wave to find him.”

Violet gave a soft smile. “You really lo-” she paused as Viktor tensed, “-care for him, don’t you?”

Viktor looked away. After a moment of silence, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Yes,” he said softly. “I believe I do.” They sat in more silence, before Viktor broke it. “But he is not a difficult person to care for.”
“Agreed,” Vi snorted. “He has half the crew wrapped around his finger. Give him a month and he’ll be stealing your job.” She threw Viktor a sideways glance, bumping his shoulder with hers. “And you’ll let him.”

Before he could fashion a worthy retort, the two heard a loud clattering sound from around the corner, in the direction they had not yet explored. In reflex, they drew their respective weapons. Vi pulled her two daggers from their scabbards with a speed that implied they had simply flickered into existence. Viktor clipped his cane onto his belt, drawing his sword from the recesses of it, and used his other hand to pull his gun from its holster. With all four hands occupied, Vi jerked her head at the corner, mouthing “You go, I’ll cover.” Viktor nodded, and breathed deeply before silently launching himself out onto the foreign street.

His eyes landed on a familiar figure pressed against the wall at knifepoint.

Jayce.

He took in the situation as quickly as he could-

Jayce’s shirt pushed aside.

A hand travelling downwards.

A knife.

A trembling, crying Jayce, eyes shut tight against the sensations.

A blond man pressing Jayce against the wall, mouthing at his neck, his legs spread to cage Jayce in.

And the blond man, Viktor noticed, was another familiar figure.

That was all the information Viktor needed.

He aimed his gun without hesitation and pulled the trigger.

He had always been a wonderful shot.

JAYCE

BANG.

Jayce’s eyes jolted open just in time to watch blood spray from below his attacker’s waist. A shriek sounded as the man dropped his knife, collapsing to the floor and grabbing the mess of bone and blood that had been his knee. Jayce’s ears rang, and he slammed his hands over them before a bit of metal caught the light. He looked down, saw the knife on the ground, and kicked it as hard as he could. It skittered across the cobblestones into the darkness, far out of the reach of the man on the ground- not that he was in any position to be fighting. He had been shot in the knee, and Jayce could see bits of bone shattered and embedded in the flesh that flowed red. The bullet had gone clean through, striking the wall between Jayce’s own legs, and falling to where it rolled on the ground.

It had stopped raining. When had it stopped raining?

He looked up from the man trembling and screeching on the ground, and found a gun still raised. He traced the gun back to its owner, and saw-

Viktor.

Fuck.

Viktor.

Jayce grabbed at his own shirt, yanking it back up onto his shoulders from where it had been pushed. He desperately tried, in vain, to rid himself of the evidence of the last minutes. He could hide, but he couldn’t help the shame that arose within him at being seen… like that. One hand went up to fix his hair, the other he used to scrub under his jaw, wiping off the slobber from the other man. As he did so, his hand came away red.

Before his brows could finish drawing together in confusion, Vi was already at his side. She gently pried his hand away from his neck, grabbing Jayce’s chin. She tilted it this way and that, watching how his neck wound reacted. “Fuck, we gotta staunch this,” Vi muttered, before looking around frantically. She patted along her figure, before her gaze landed on her own well-worn pants, dark brown and covered in patches. Seemingly having made up her mind, she used one of her knives to quickly cut a patch from near her knee. The fabric came loose easily at the knife’s insistence, slicing through the pants in a neat sawing motion. Within seconds, Vi was pressing the scrap of fabric to Jayce’s neck, and he felt the renewed sting of the cut.

Her touch was grounding, and so far from what he had just experienced. Where the man’s touch had made him feel small and want to shrivel and disappear, Vi’s made him feel like he was allowed to feel small and want to disappear. Jayce felt safe, and he promptly broke down in her arms, crumbling forward at the waist until his head nestled into Vi’s shoulder.

After a frozen moment of shock, her hand not busy keeping Jayce from bleeding found its way to Jayce’s nape, and she held it firmly. “Oh, pretty boy…” she began, and Jayce started to sob anew. “Jayce, it’s okay, we’re here. We’re here, we never would have left you. You’ve been so strong, osito. Just let it out-” She kept rambling into his ear, using a soft voice one may have used to soothe a small child. Jayce couldn’t even say he minded. He breathed in her scent of lavender and leather, the same as the huge jacket he had borrowed from her earlier, missing only the notes of booze. As he inhaled and exhaled, taking in Vi’s scent and crying out his distress, he slowly came back to himself. And in doing so, he could hear his attacker’s cries peter out as Viktor approached him.

“Deckard,” Viktor spoke, voice colder than Jayce had ever heard. Still held in Vi’s protective grip, he turned his head to watch the interaction.

The man on the ground- Deckard, Jayce supposed- looked up. Despite his mess of a leg, and the unbearable pain he must have been in, he managed a snicker. “Well, well, well,” he coughs, grunting in pain at the jostling. “If it isn't the little dove.”

Dove? Jayce thought. Weird. He called me ‘birdie’ earlier, but-

His train of thought halted at Viktor’s reaction. He seized up, eyes snapping down to Deckard’s. “You motherfu-”

“That’s what you were, weren’t you? His little dov-”

“SHUT UP-” Viktor screamed. Jayce had never heard that tone in Viktor’s voice before.

Panic. Anger. Distress.

Rage.

Vi cut Viktor off, yelling from above where Jayce’s head was nestled, “The fuck are you doing here, Deckard? How are you not fucking dead?”

“Good captains don’t go down with the ship,” Deckard grimaced, managing a smirk. “They get the fuck off the ship when trenchers light it on fire, and get Reveck to give them a boost.”

Vi and Viktor both stilled.

“Reveck is dead.” Viktor spoke icily. “I killed him myself. Shot him right between the ribs. I listened as he took his final breath. I made sure-”
“Yeah, but what happened to the body?” Deckard asked with a snort. “You of all people know how many safeguards he had against death. Slow-release shimmer was just one he never included you on.”

Vi and Viktor’s eyes met. “Impossible,” Viktor finally spoke, but his voice shook. “He’s dead, I- he’s-”

“Alive. Saw him just last week,” Deckard smiled.

“Vik-” Vi reached for the Captain, but Viktor stepped away.

Jayce watched Viktor’s panic grow physical, as hyperventilation and an aggressive tremble took hold of his frame. He stammered, “No. No, he-”

Deckard began laughing. And laughing. And laughing.

And Jayce couldn’t take it anymore.

Jayce had always been scared of anger. Had always feared the expression of it. Had always known that, at least in his experience, anger led to violence. Angry people hurt people. And Jayce had always vowed never to hurt people.

When Deckard had assaulted him, with wandering hands that, thank Janna, had never made it into Jayce’s pants, Jayce had been angry. He had felt the livid fear and frustration beading at his eyes and spilling in hot, helpless tears. He had sobbed at the first kiss he’d ever been given being on his neck, and from someone he didn’t want. Jayce had been angry.

But when Deckard had turned on Viktor? That was different. Whoever was decidedly not dead had obviously hurt Viktor. Obviously haunted him. And yet the psychotic bastard bleeding on the floor had the audacity to taunt Viktor, even after being shot. When he had decided to continue doing harm regardless of, or perhaps because of how deeply it seemed to affect Viktor? 

Jayce had never understood the concept of ‘seeing red.’ It had always sounded like an excuse to explain away being caught up in senseless violence. But at that moment, when a vivid anger tinged his peripheral vision, he couldn’t think of a better description.

He didn’t feel angry. He didn’t feel frustrated.

Jayce felt rage.

He pushed out of Vi’s grip, moving her firmly but gently out of his way.
He took the few steps to meet the man on the cobblestones where he was.

And Jayce drove. his. foot. into. the. man’s. mangled. knee.

Deckard let out a scream as Jayce picked up his foot.

And slammed down his boot again, somewhere else on Deckard’s writhing body.

“LEAVE,” again, wrist.

“VIK,” again, leg.

“ALONE,” again, chest.

“YOU,” again, hand.

“MOTHER-,” again, thigh.

“-FUCKER,” again, knee.

Jayce ground his heel into the gaping, bleeding divot in the man’s leg.

Seemingly incapable of screaming more, Deckard groaned with a sob. Jayce grabbed his bag of money from where it lay on the cobblestones, putting it into the bag he had dropped. He scooped up his headset, before gently picking up Isha’s and adding them both to his bag.

Jayce took a step back and exhaled heavily, panting.

Holy shit. He did that. He did that.

He didn’t think he was capable-

Jayce’s eyes caught the splattered blood on his boot. The pool of it on the pavement was inconsequential- a red liquid that happened to be near him. But the thick drips down his boots, the fluid slowly soaking into his pant leg- the red everywhere.

Red, Red, RED.

Jayce desperately breathed in to collect himself, but could do nothing to stop the sharp tang of iron he inhaled. He exhaled, and his vision snapped to the faces of Vi and Viktor. They looked at him with something akin to shock. Vi’s jaw was open, brows furrowed, and Viktor just… stared.

And Jayce couldn’t even blame them.

After that display of… gods, violence? How could they want to be near him, feel safe around him, tolerate him-

A voice from below spoke, confirming Jayce’s fears. “You’re fucking unhinged,” Deckard coughed, then said, “but I suppose I should expect that of someone defending a murderer.” Jayce’s gaze flicked back to Viktor, and he watched the captain’s gaze once again steel over. “You may not have killed Reveck, but most of his fuckin’ crew went up in flames. Combined with all those you killed on his second ship? You have the deaths of tens of men on your hands-”

“And I have no regrets,” Viktor interrupted. “If they were on his ships, the death I granted them was merciful in comparison to their crimes and what Zaun would have done with them.” Viktor raised his gun, aiming it at Deckard’s face, which paled.

He smiled, tone icy, “Yes, I’ve killed before. Want to see me do it again?”

Jayce couldn’t breathe.

“Vi-Vikt,” he panted. “VIKTOR.”

Viktor’s neck cracked as he let his head roll to face Jayce, not moving his gun from Deckard’s face or his finger from the trigger.

“Yes, Jayce?” Viktor asked calmly, as though he weren’t about to shoot a man.

“D-don’t,” Jayce spoke. “Please, don’t.”

VIKTOR

He couldn’t have heard Jayce clearly. There was no way.

“Excuse me? You don’t want me to-” He paused, confused. “What, do you want the honors?” Viktor said, spinning the gun in his hand and offering the grip to Jayce. An hour ago, he couldn’t have imagined Jayce wanting to hurt someone, let alone kill them- but after that display a moment ago, he was revisiting each preconceived notion he had held of the tall, previously timid man.

“N-no, please,” Jayce panted. “Just don’t.”

“Jayce,” Vi spoke up, “he’s not worth-”

“Vi, please, I can’t watch him die. I can’t watch anyone die.” Jayce spoke.

“You were fine to maul his mangled knee, but you draw the line at death?” Violet asked incredulously. Turning to Jayce, she shook her head. “He’s probably one of the shittiest people I’ve ever encountered, and he basically fuckin’ worships the shittiest. He’s an awful human being, if you can even call him tha-”

“Vi, no, I just- please no, please,” he begged.

“Jayce,” Viktor spoke, slowly and unyielding, “you don’t know what this man has done, but you know what he was going to do to you. Is that not enough to condemn him in your mind?”

“Vik, I-” Jayce spoke.

“He shows no remorse or willingness to change. If we let him go, what’s to prevent him from trying the same to someone else? Someone without others looking for them? Someone he’d succeed with?” Viktor said, growing angry. “I cannot let this monster walk free-”

“Look at his leg, Vik,” Jayce tried. “He won’t be walking anytime soon, if at all.”

“Irrelevant.” Viktor scoffed. “If you can’t handle it, that’s fine. You may not have the stomach for death, but I have no such aversion.” The click of the bullet sliding into place in the chamber was so, so loud.

“Please, Viktor, I-” Jayce panted, now hyperventilating. “I can’t watch someone die”
“Then turn around,” Viktor growled.

“VIK-” Jayce gasped.

“WHAT-” Viktor snarled, turning to face Jayce, gun still locked on Deckard. Viktor stilled. Jayce was on his knees, grasping at his ribs, his lungs. He looked on the verge of a panic attack. Tears were streaming down his face, and Vi was at his side, one hand on his shoulder and her other on his jaw, trying to pull Jayce’s gaze to meet hers.

She’s speaking quietly, begging him to look at her, to breathe. It’s a mirror of the way she breaks down for Powder. Vi shifts so quickly into her role as a caregiver, just as she does anytime Powder has one of her episodes. Violet ceases to become a deadly warrior, a sister, an eager fighter, a Zaunite, a first mate- anything other than what she is at her core- someone who cares. She makes herself small, gets on Jayce’s level, uses slow movements and gentle hands, offers comfort without constriction, empathy without enforcement.

Viktor’s gaze shifts from Vi’s moving lips- whispering condolences and soothing words- to Jayce’s face. Jayce’s face, which shows clear signs of distress- eyes locked on the floor, hands over his ears, crouched in fetal position.

Viktor lets out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

How could he hurt this man more than he already has? He’s done so much to Jayce.

He can- he can grant him this.

He lowers his gun, slowly but steadily. Without turning back to the man on the floor, lest he regain his conviction, Viktor speaks. “I never want to see you again,” he whispers. “If I do, no person on all of fucking Runeterra will be able to intervene.”

He hears panting from the whelp behind him, and turns to the only man crouched on the cobblestones that he cares about. And gods, does he care for him. He can’t even begin to open his heart to the idea of what Jayce had endured moments, minutes, and however long Deckard had Jayce pinned before their arrival.

He knew what it was like to be used.

Intimately.

He may not know what Jayce went through, but he knew what Jayce was going through- a mental shattering of each and every wall, when boundaries are disrespected and consent is disregarded. Jayce may respond to things differently than Viktor, but they seemed to have in common a trouble breathing and a lapse in judgement, seeing as Jayce was content to let Deckard walk free.

And dear Janna, Viktor couldn’t stand it.

Why did Jayce have to be so good? Too good for this world, too good for him?

It was yet another reminder of the ways in which Viktor could never have Jayce. Even if he were fortunate enough- fuck fortunate, it’d be a godsdamned miracle if Jayce liked him back- he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to allow it to happen.

How could he care for Jayce, when light leaked out of every crack of his being, and Viktor was so, so dark?

How could he hold Jayce, when doing so would stain him with the red from his hands?

How could he love-

Viktor closed his eyes.

He couldn’t. Jayce was perfect.

Too perfect, Viktor thought, for me.

He opens his eyes, meeting Vi’s gaze, and together, they pull Jayce to his feet. Jayce is still gasping for breath, barely speaking as he repeats, “thank you, thank you, Vik, Viktor, than- thank you, I- thank y-”

Once up, Viktor shifts to help Jayce put his weight on Vi’s shoulder. He wishes that he could bear some of the weight for Jayce, even if only physically. Alas, he is barely keeping himself upright, even while leaning his entire body weight onto his now-sheathed sword of a cane. The three of them slowly start down the street, Jayce propped up on Vi, with Viktor on his other side. They get halfway down the street, leaving the bleeding man in their wake-

“Can’t even properly k-kill me. A-Always so weak, Vitya-”

Faster than he can even think, Viktor spins back towards the bleeding monster, takes aim, and shoots him in the other knee. It’s a clean shot.

As clean as the shattering of a knee can be, anyway.

The gunshot echoes through the street, drowning out even Deckard’s screams and sobs.

It rings in Viktor’s ears, even as he blows the smoke from the barrel of his gun, sheathing it in its holster. His steady hands reach for the whistle around his neck, which he raises to his chapped lips.

As he turns back to Vi and Jayce, he lets out one long, continuous exhale, and the high note pierces the air. He returns to Jayce’s side, positioning the panicked man between himself and Vi.

As they slowly walk down the street, Violet mutters about informing law enforcement of Deckard’s presence and actions.

Then they turn.

They make it down another street.

Before Jayce starts gasping for air.

“Viktor-”

“Yes, Jayc-”

“VIKTOR?”

Viktor turns, confused, and meets Jayce’s eyes, where he still leans heavily on Vi. “Yes, Jayce? What is it?” Jayce’s expression is one of sheer fear, and yet somehow, he pales further.

“I can’t- Viktor, I can’t hear.” Viktor’s brows furrow, but Jayce continues, gasping and repeating himself. “I can’t- I can’t hear, MAKE IT STOP!”
Jayce throws himself at Viktor, and they collapse to the ground together. Viktor tries to pry Jayce’s fingers from his shirt, and put some space between the two of them so he can sign to Jayce, but the larger man has none of it. He continues panting, screaming, all while maintaining his death grip on the fabric at Viktor’s chest. As Jayce’s eyes lock on Vi, standing over them, Viktor hears her blow her whistle three times.

Jayce, it seems, doesn’t. His panic renews with somehow more vigor than before, and he continues babbling. “I couldn’t hear the whistle, I- Viktor, please, make the ringing stop, the gun- I still hear it ringing- make it STOP, PLEASE-”

Viktor, holding a frantic and barely-there Jayce in his arms, feels helpless. He tries to speak calming words, despite knowing that they don’t make it to Jayce. He takes Jayce’s face in his hands, tilting his face up to search Jayce’s hazel eyes, flecked in gold.

They’re unfocused, and with a start, Viktor notices that in addition to the cut on his neck from earlier, Jayce’s right ear is bleeding- his hearing ear.

Kurva, Viktor thinks. What the fuck do I do?

He wracks his brain for anything he may have heard or seen about wounds that match Jayce’s, but nothing registers. Hopeless, he wraps his arms around Jayce’s trembling frame, tucking Jayce’s head close to his own heart and mumbling sweet nothings in every language he knows as Jayce’s babbles devolve into solely his native language.

Viktor rocks them back and forth, listening to “please, por favor, Viktor. Vi-Vik, haz que- haz que se par- pare, por f-favor, V- pare, por fa-”

Behind him, he hears Vi blow her whistle again in three short bursts.

Sharp. Piercing. Loud.

It does nothing to pause or subdue Jayce’s ramblings, which continue. Viktor watches powerlessly as Jayce's eyes slowly roll back and slip closed as he goes limp in his arms. Viktor leans forward, grasping at Jayce's face, desperately patting and shaking him. Over and over again, he screams Jayce’s name. Vi continues to blow her whistle.