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kr-v · 23 days ago

Text

Serdtse

pre/early s1 Viktor

male reader

Ch.1

Synopsis: You're a metalworker who has finally been given the opportunity to meet a long-time friend's assistant. And you're not sure what you expected, but this wasn't it.

Word count: 6k

Note: happy new year:) hope it is not too out of character

You typically meet what feels like copies of the same person in your field of work. The same industrial plants looking for parts, the same labour companies looking for tools, the same orders coming from the same people.

Sometimes, you do get the outlier—maybe an older woman cradling precious jewelry in her frail hands with the request that you resize it, telling tales of when she was young and beautiful and her rings still fit. You do your best to break your silence and humour her, telling her that her beauty has not faded one bit before offering a lower price, heart feeling a little heavier as you watch her head back down into the dark recesses of the Undercity, clean and adjusted jewelry hidden in her pockets.

And, despite these brief, unique-seeming instances, you still find yourself trudging through haze and sinking into a repetitive cycle.

Into the furnace, out of the fire, onto the anvil, into the water.

Forming. Cutting. Joining.

Again and again and again and again.

What once excited you has begun to dull, boring you in the process. You don't doubt the worsening conditions with shimmer in Zaun attribute to this sudden tilt towards a downward spiral. But you still hold a passion for your craft, so you stick with it, despite the itch for something, someone, to come and knock the piling monotony over.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You're in the midst of completing yet another commission of metal panels, something you must admit you no longer find much joy making, let alone care for whatever their purpose will be. Not when you had made a near-painful amount of them for another client the prior week.

You aren't what would be considered talkative typically, but you would have appreciated something more than silence and an anxious glance in response when you had asked where they would be installed. The unease in the atmosphere gets to those from the other side of the bridge too, you suppose.

(What's life without mild irritation? You find yourself repeating the phrase often in your mind.)

You barely hear the ringing of the bell installed over the door as you hammer the hot metal, flattening it out. Looking up, you catch the eyes of a young man standing near the door. He's no devil—incredibly far from it, actually, and you swear you can feel your pulse quicken when you make eye contact—but he doesn't look like someone that would typically find himself in your type of shop. Especially not as you register he's wearing a Piltover Academy uniform.

Too refined to be surrounded by burning metal and gear grease.

"I'll be with you in a minute. Sorry for the wait."

His shoulders very slightly jump into a shrug when he assures you. "It's no problem at all."

And you go back to your task. You can feel his eyes on you, but you chalk it up to curiosity, which you can already tell he's full of. Something that feels rare in the misery that surrounds.

The final panel does not take long for you to finish and you pull your glove off and slip it halfway into the pocket of your apron where the other one is tucked in as you approach the front of your shop. The man is still there, very slightly leaning on his cane, and you're not entirely sure why you're pleasantly surprised he hasn't left.

But the answer to that comes quick when you move closer.

His deep brown hair is styled so that it doesn't hide his face, allowing you to get a better look at him. There are little moles dotted onto his face, with hollowed cheeks under sharp cheekbones that lead to his unexpectedly piercing eyes. You might have described as pools of molten gold had you been referring to a piece of art and not a real person standing in front of you.

His features are sculptural—sharp edges with an undeniable softness hard to identify. In another life, where you had chosen a more artistic passion, you'd have loved him as a muse.

"It really was a minute." His strong brows are raised and the tone you can hear in his voice is unexpectedly teasing as he pulls you out of the nearly-endless abyss of your thoughts, as if he knows what you're thinking.

You exhale a laugh through your nose after a second of reeling your mind back into the present moment and away from his appearance. It's probably the first amused noise you've made in weeks. "Thanks for waiting." Your gaze lingers on the mole above his lip for the briefest moment. "What can I help you with?"

"I presume you are (Y/N), yes?"

"I am." "Perfect." He takes a step closer, as if this confirmation was what he needed to properly allow himself into the space. "Professor Heimerdinger sent me here, something about a talented metalsmith whose help he needed." He scans your shop with his pretty eyes as he speaks and there's a pause his explanation before he looks at you once again. "I'm Viktor, his assistant." He moves his right hand outwards, as if to shake yours, before his eyebrow twitches and he seems to remember the dark blue folder occupying his hold. "Oh, eh.. Here." His lip quirks into a small smile and he holds the folder out for you to take.

There's a little spark of recognition that passes through you as you realize who exactly is standing in front of you.

In truth, Heimerdinger had described Viktor to you in prideful detail, like a father boasting about his golden son. You can feel the bit of excitement bubbling in your chest as you realize this is your opportunity to finally see the man behind Heimerdinger's carefully crafted, but ultimately foggy image. He'd never been one to discuss physical appearances and you never expected.. this.

You take the folder gently in one hand and properly introduce yourself, holding out your other, thankfully clean, hand for a proper handshake now that Viktor's is free.

His hand is a little cold and you feel it jolt against yours from the shock of the temperature change—your skin is still warm, bordering on hot, from your physical work and the glove you only just pulled off.

You do your best to steer your mind away from the skin-to-skin contact as you pry the folder open.

"..I've heard of you before." A glance is thrown his way to see his reaction.

The surprise in his face is evident. His thick eyebrows are raised again and there's this glimmer in his eyes. "You have?"

"From Heimerdinger. He seems very proud to have you as an assistant."

You flip through the papers after finding you need to tear your eyes away from his bright face. "And 'talented'? The professor is ever the flatterer, did he tell you to say that?"

"Maybe."

The papers inside display sketches of gears, all labelled and neatly detailed with dimensions and materials. Yet, they're oddly uncomplicated. "Why send you all the way here? I'm sure someone at the academy can make these. They're quite simple."

At that, Viktor cocks his head, eyebrows quirking, as if to say he understands your thought process. "To be entirely honest, Heimerdinger also said something about wishing you'd visit again. I suppose this is his indirect way of inviting you." His nose scrunches for a second as he winces and his teeth show for a quick moment. It's charming. "...I also suppose I spoiled his plan."

Not entirely. You're not quite sure if he realizes the other half—the professor did let it slip that he believed you and Viktor would get along quite well, and this is the perfect opportunity. Face-to-face, standing on equal ground, and without the distractions that come with being inside the Piltover Academy.

But you don't mention this.

"Maybe."

Instead, you echo his words and tilt your own head to the side. "I guess I can do this, then." You gesture with the folder. "And drop the finished gears off myself. To, er, indirectly accept his invitation."

Seeing Viktor's amusement painted on his face with another smile feels like a small victory. A victory you're not sure you should be internally celebrating. But the smile really does fit his features nicely.

"That works." There's another pause. His eyes quickly fleet over your body. You're sure he's now realizing just how messy you look, covered in soot and grease. Maybe he's judging your work clothing, too. You can't exactly vouch for the safety of relying on an apron and a, maybe slightly too tight, dirty old shirt for upper body protection.

In contrast, Viktor's well dressed. He's in a maroon button-up, with layered vests, a cravat, and ironed dress pants. He looks nice. And you do your best to ignore the fact that you feel like a grimy fool standing in front of him. You hope that, at the very least, he doesn't think you dress like this outside of your job.

"Quite impressive." Your brows pinch.

"Your work is very versatile." He clarifies.

Oh.

You're internally chagrined for a moment before logic kicks in.

Sure, Viktor's attractive. You can admit that to yourself—and you already have a million times over in your racing mind. But this is humiliating. You've only just formally met.

"Ah.. yes, I do a bit of everything." Praise from anyone as bright as he must be would get your heart jumping, you justify, no matter who it is. "Thank you."

He moves closer to one of the many tables in your space, one that's littered with all sorts of tools, papers, and things you've crafted. Some yet to be picked up by clients, some with no final destination or use—often made during odd hours, when sleep felt like it was out of your grasp and your mind still buzzed.

"May I touch?"

You swallow.

"Go ahead."

Your fingers drum against the folder for a few seconds before you make your way around Viktor and place the paper down onto your much neater desk.

Viktor leans his cane against the cluttered table and picks up a small, overcomplicated mechanical propeller. It's not your typical smithing work that people look for—a mechanism rather than a tool or weapon—and it's been lying around for so long, you only vaguely remember its intended use. "I believe that was ordered by a father. ...Something about his kid's toy."

"Why do you still have it?"

"He gathered enough money to move, or something like that. No need for toy planes at that point. I have not received any orders for.. mechanical things since then, unfortunately." The fact that a piece of a child's toy is one of the best things you have to show for your engineering prowess makes you frown.

Viktor makes a little sympathetic hum in the back of his throat and pushes one of the blades with his pointer finger. "I understand." It's quiet but you can tell he's genuine.

He watches as it spins, holding it close to his face and analyzing it like it's some impressive, overly detailed mechanism.

"Quite intricate.." He seems to be talking to himself, but he lifts his head to look at you and continues, before you have the chance to argue that it's nothing spectacular. "And you also made those?" Using the hand that holds the propeller, he gestures to the far corner of the main room, where steel breastplates are propped up against the wall.

You lean against the edge of your desk, arms crossed over your chest, where a little flame of pride begins to burn. And maybe a little bit of something else you don't want to entertain the thought of. Something you probably should not entertain the thought of, especially not so soon. "Everything in here is my own." The sentence comes out colder than you wanted as a result and you hope the smile you give afterwards helps soften it.

It seems to work, or maybe Viktor doesn't mind your tone, either way. "Very interesting." He places the propeller back onto the table, between a jar of thick nails and some rusted cinch clamps. "Jack of all trades and master of them all, it seems. Flipping the saying on its head, so to speak." He sounds and looks genuinely impressed and it fans the the fire in your chest. It may be because this is the first time the man has stepped foot into your workplace and he's already flattering you nearly to a fault. And because genuine compliments seem so rare now.

Or it may be because of who's giving them out.

You choose not to dwell on the thought longer than need be.

"You're too kind." Is what you manage to say. A bit quieter, softer, than intended. "I'm no master, but thank you, Viktor."

"From what I've already seen, you are." His shoulders jump up into a slight shrug as he replies.

The light tone of his response paired with a facial expression you can't quite make out makes it feel like something you'd hear from someone you've known for far longer, someone you hold much closer, and not from Heimerdinger's assistant whom you first saw in person only 20 minutes ago. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks away.

Viktor's gaze is back on the table. You know from Heimerdinger that he has more of an interest in the mechanical, engineering side of things. That claim is backed up as you watch him zero in on one of the blueprints partially hidden under an array of tools. His palm is flat on the tabletop and his fingers twitch, like he's holding back from pulling the pages out from under the mess to get a better look at the lines sketched into the blue paper.

Part of you really does not want to say your next words.

"Shouldn't you be heading back to the academy now?" Viktor's eyes are on you again. This time, he blinks, looking puzzled and maybe even a little... deflated. His hands drop to his sides as he stands up straight. "I'm sure you're needed there, and I don't want to take up too much of your time."

"The professor gave me plenty of time—the whole day, actually—and you're not forcing me to stay." You can't argue with that. Especially as you feel your own relief seeping into your bones.

I hoped you'd say something like that. That is left unsaid.

"Plus.." There's a pause, a split second too long. His eyes seem to search for something unseen in his mind. "I do find your work interesting."

You uncross your arms and your fingers drum against the edge of the desk this time. "Do you usually hand out compliments like this?"

"Sometimes." It's all Viktor says, and he pairs it with a glance you can't decipher.

"Well, uh... I unfortunately have to go out and pick up some materials today...." There's a pause. Viktor's eyebrows furrow and there's a little frown, maybe even a hint of a pout, tugging at his lips and you want to punch yourself for paying so much attention to them. "But, maybe you can find some time to stop by another day? If you don't mind for me to work on the gears you were sent here for during your visit.."

He looks relieved at your words. The crease between his eyebrows smooths out and his mouth relaxes into a little smile that thins out his lips. Your brain is still stuck on the briefest image of the pink of his bottom lip jutting out in disappointment and you nearly forget to listen to his answer, having to forcibly haul your attention back to the present. "I wouldn't mind that at all." He seems to mentally run through his schedule and he holds his chin between his pointer finger and thumb. "Would Thursday two weeks from now work?" In the quickest instant, you picture your hand replacing his, and his facial expression morphing into a softer one as you lean in, his hands on your waist—god.

"That works perfectly."

Any plans you had for that day be damned.

You're sure Viktor is happy to have more time to quench his inquiries and you're more than happy to provide some mental nourishment, though you do wish that interest would pivot away from your work and focus on you.

You bid him goodbye, with a request to inform Heimerdinger you will visit when the gears are complete, and watch him leave, not getting back to your tasks until he's entirely out of view.

It's Monday afternoon the next week and you're surprised to find a paper unceremoniously slid under the door to your workshop. It's a crisp white envelope with the Piltover Academy symbol stamped into the wax seal that you do your best to preserve as you pry the flap open and pull out the page stored inside. Probably a letter from Heimerdinger, with an expression of excitement for your meeting.

Upon unfolding it, you find your theory disproven quickly.

Dear (Y/N),

It was a pleasure meeting you last week, and I must admit I am glad Professor Heimerdinger's patience with you had run out enough to send me your way. Now, thinking about it, I can see that our meeting must have been part of his secret plan, as well. Smart man.

I am sending this letter as to inform you that the professor is greatly looking forward to your visit, which I'm sure you know. Whether or not you have finished making the gears by then seems to be the last of his concern. He has already begun creating a buzz around the academy regarding the visit of a mysterious, metalworking genius sometime in the following weeks. So, please be aware that there may be some extra pairs of eyes on you and many questions from curious students when you arrive. I hope this does not cause you to have second thoughts, though I doubt it will.

I am looking forward to seeing you again next week and witnessing your creation process in person.

Kind regards,

Viktor

You stare at the paper in some confusion. Viktor sent you a letter. You're not sure why. The meeting between the two of you was brief, without anything particularly impressive to show on your part, and you still feel like you may have made a fool of yourself in some way.

And, either way, there was no need for Viktor to have gone out of his way to write all of this and send it. He could have told you everything in person next week.

But you can't deny the little spark of 'what if?' that flashes through you, especially with his little humorous quips strewn throughout the lines.

And he's looking forward to seeing you again? You're reading too much into it, but you really do internally wish this goes beyond simple work relations, and maybe Viktor wouldn't be against stepping into a genuine friendship. And possibly, though definitely out of reach, something closer.

Still, even if he doesn't share the dream, you skim over the sentence a few more times, until you read it with his voice in your mind and maybe a little gentler of a tone than necessary.

You waste no time in finding a clean sheet of paper and a fountain pen. Doing your best not to overthink your words, you write a response.

Dear Viktor,

Thank you greatly for taking the time to handwrite a letter to me. I had not expected it, but I really do appreciate it, and I hope my thankfulness translates through my writing.

(My apologies if this letter is too brief. Writing them is not my strong suit, I must admit.)

I am glad to hear that Heimerdinger doesn't seem to hold any animosity regarding my delay and I will do my best not to disappoint anyone curious when I arrive. But I make no promises.

And I, too, am very glad to have met you last week. I anticipate with excitement to learn more about you during our next get together. I can already tell you have a bright mind and I am curious to hear about your studies. I can't be the only one discussing my specialty, after all.

Thank you again for your kindness.

Regards,

(Y/N)

True to his word, Viktor shows up two weeks later on Thursday.

He's holding a brown paper bag you assume contains his lunch and smiling when you immediately drop what you're doing to greet him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your work." There's that soft, teasing edge to his words again.

"Not at all. I wasn't really working, anyway." It's the truth. You'd resorted to fidgeting around in your workspace in attempt to pass the time and ease your impatience as you waited for Viktor. Nerves had spiked in your insides as you considered the possibility that maybe he forgot, or changed his mind.

The fact the idea of Viktor having second thoughts had hurt embarrasses you.

Viktor had been stuck in your very brain tissue since you'd met last week. Partially convincing yourself it was a dream, you almost felt the need to pinch yourself when he came into your shop again, even though you had exchanged those few letters in the meantime and you were sure he was a man of his word.

"Well, then..." You speak again, before your silence becomes odd and another source of overthinking. "Should we get started?"

Viktor occupies a chair you've pulled out for him at your desk as you clear a space and set everything up.

He pauses his in-depth, intensely passionate run-down of his latest scientific theories—and his desires to achieve more—that give you a glimpse into the intricacies of his mind in order to offer his help. The offer sounds more like a request soaked with curiosity and you're unable bring yourself to decline, so you ask him to pull out three moulds for the gears from the shelf next to your workbench.

Leaning his cane against the edge, Viktor pulls the moulds off of the shelf and shifts them into one arm.

One by one he carries the moulds out, holding them close to his chest with his right arm as not to drop them, cane in his left hand. He's as gentle with his movements as he can be with the heavy things when he places them onto the thick metal surface.

"These are your work, too?" Viktor traces the strong edges of one of the forms with a dexterous finger, like he's analyzing every atom that makes up the metal block with his fingertip. With shameful haste, you concentrate on the incredibly simple task of picking out bits of scrap metal and dropping them into the melting pot.

"Yes, they were made from their own moulds." You pull your gloves on once there's enough metal for three gears. "...A mould cast within a mould." It's a mere, under-the-breath mutter as you slowly pick the pot up by the handle with a steady hand, but you can hear a little amused exhale of laughter from Viktor.

You can't help but to glance up at the sound, at Viktor, and find him already looking at you.

You, rather than the hypnotizing flames of the hearth or the pot of steadily melting metal. Or the hundreds of other things around the shop that slot into the little jar of metalworking intrigue far better than you do.

He diverts his gaze fast, like he was caught red-handed and trying to act normal about it. There's just a hint of his eyes widening and lips pursing as he lifts a fist to his mouth and clears his throat.

The wishful implication that it was something more than simple knowledge-hungry interest is a thought quickly shoved away, under the carpet and into the desperate corners of your mind.

The sudden crackle of charcoal reminds you that you're still standing in front of the forge and definitely not paying as much attention to the dangerous pot of hot, near-liquid metal as you should be. There's a sudden urge to drag a hand over your face and sigh as you peel your focus away from Viktor and direct it back to your job.

It's silent for a few beats until Viktor speaks again. His voice is calm. steady, unaffected. Confident once more. "How do you know Heimerdinger? He hadn't mentioned it to me."

You know you're a fool for wishing he could've sounded as flustered as you feel.

"Ah, I guess I hadn't mentioned that, either.." You keep your eyes on the melting metal. "We met when I was still an apprentice in the Undercity. He needed some parts for a machine he was working on and I took up the job, as my mentor was busy." Before Viktor asks why look for someone in the Undercity? like anyone would, you continue. "My mentor had a good reputation. One that carried over across the bridge. Heimerdinger has been keeping up with me and offering support, ever since." Part of you is upset with yourself that you hadn't visited the professor in a long enough time that he decided a commission would be the only way to get you back in the academy. "I really should have visited sooner."

Viktor hums. It's a low, rumbling sound that seems to come straight from his chest and it snakes up your spine in the form of goosebumps. "Why not stay in Piltover? You have a very good connection there."

"Can't say I have a particularly.. good or logical reason." Carefully, the pot is carried over to workbench, where the moulds are held in place by thick iron clamps. "I just don't really want to, I suppose."

The blocks are positioned in a row and you slowly pour the molten metal into the hole atop each one, doing your best to ignore Viktor's watchful gaze that tracks each of your movements over and over. You don't doubt he's mentally jotting down the motion of your every muscle and each maneuver you make under the How to Cast Gears tab in his mind. You briefly wallow in the self-indulgent hope that there's a little topic marker dedicated solely to you, too.

"That's a good a reason as any." Viktor replies. And his voice is suddenly right there as he leans in to get a closer look at the process. "Feelings are important, too. Not every decision needs to have a definite, analytical cause that you can pin point behind it."

You keep your head forward.

When the metal seeps into the depths of each mould and leaves some extra space, you follow through with another round of pouring, until each form is full and metal threatens to pool over and out of the spouts. "That's true."

There's a moment silence as you hang the pot on a thick metal hook by the loop on the handle and turn to Viktor, "Now we wait. Shouldn't take too long. I can make some tea in the meantime. I have black and green tea. ...Or coffee?"

"Black tea would be nice, thank you."

At the confirmation, you walk over to the small faux-kitchen in the corner near your desk and pull out a steel kettle.

Viktor looks over the setting metal before he suddenly stands up straight.

He goes back to your desk, where the brown paper bag he brought sits. He leans his cane against the back of his chair and straightens the folded top of the bag, pulling it open and reaching in. Two small cardboard food boxes are pulled out, held in his pale hands, and placed on the tabletop. "Eh... I hope you have a bit of a sweet tooth.."

Wait.

He pulls the lid of one of the little boxes off, revealing a delicious-looking slice of Napoleon cake, and looks back to you. One of the corners of his lips raises just a bit higher and suddenly he's smirking and raising a brow in invitation.

You can't help but pluck his expression out of context, and place it into a more intimate, gentle situation. One where you move closer, close enough for Viktor to place his palm on the back of your head and sigh against your lips as you lean in....

Realizing you've been silent for a beat too long, you do your best to sound normal as you clear your throat.

"You didn't need to— Thank you, but really.." You feel like you're blubbering for words like a fish out of water and you hope that it's just in your imagination.

"I wanted to." Viktor says this with such ease and maybe a bit too gentle of a tone that it sends little spikes of warmth rushing through your muscle fibres. Again, he's back in that soft setting in your mind, as you stand at the sink and fill the kettle with water. "It's only fair—you're letting me intrude on your work like this."

"You're not intruding—" There's a pointed look directed your way. "—okay. Thank you. Again." He can have this win.

He waves you off, but there's a little quirk to his lip that evens his smirk out into a satisfied smile, like he's proud he has triumphed a debate with a topic more serious than dessert, and, once more, your eyes immediately flicker towards the movement.

You place two thick ceramic mugs onto your desk and drop a bag of black tea into each one once the kettle is on the fire. Viktor watches as you bring a second heavy chair over with one arm, your hand hooked through the opening in the back, and place it at the short end of the table. The balancing act of two small plates and forks in your other hand ends when you put them on the table, as well.

Viktor's right leg crosses over his left and he leans back, with his elbows on the arm rests and hands resting atop each other in his lap. He seems comfortable and you can't shake the fact that his posture really does make it look like he owns the space, possibly more than you do. And when you're beckoned back to the fire by the kettle's whistle, you reassure him that you don't need his assistance. He's the guest here.

Just sit still and look pretty. You don't say that—but you do think it.

It's far too bold and far too early, and maybe a bit too simple of a phrase for a bright man like Viktor. You'd do anything in your power to avoid implying the false idea that you're dumbing him down to his outermost layer, his physical appearance. And you keep telling yourself that, that it's too fast, even when he looks at you from under the shadows of his brow bone and eyelashes with a little bit of something in his eyes as you lean in just a bit closer over his shoulder to pour hot water into his cup. You feel a bit like you're putting on a show for him—one he observes with some unidentifiable interest before quickly diverting his gaze to the steeping tea. He plays with his fingers for a few seconds, catching his left middle finger between his right pointer and thumb. He seems almost.... awkward. Nervous. You pray it's because of you and not the logical explanation of it simply being an odd moment between two friends.

Once you place the kettle onto a cork board, you take a seat like the moment never happened and watch Viktor regain his momentarily lost composure with haste. His hands relax and start to take the small dessert boxes apart, gentle but with enough force to pull the tabs open and lay them flat with his fingers. He moves the slices of cake to the plates with ease this way, after sliding the prongs of his fork under each piece.

"Here—your slice." Viktor pushes one of the small plates in your direction, and you reach over to pick up the flattened boxes and drop them into the hinged trash can under the desk.

Picking up your fork, you take a moment to examine the slice of cake in front of you. It looks almost unnaturally appetizing, with its many flakey layers sandwiched between sweet cream and the mixed berries decorating the top. You almost don't want to eat it, since that comes with the pain of ruining the perfect dessert. "Thank you. It looks delicious."

You wonder if Viktor has a serious sweet tooth. Maybe you should be the one treating him.

When you take the moulds apart and pull the gears out, Viktor watches intently. He stands closer, seemingly have gained some more confidence and comfort within your presence.

"The next step is shaving them down and shaping them into the ideal form." The rasps are held in the top drawer under the workbench, and you pull out a few different sizes and grits. They're placed on the table while you vertically clamp a gear and bring the chairs from your desk over to the bench.

Viktor sits next to you as you pick up one of the bigger rasps and begin filing down the edges of the gear. You do your best to ignore the closeness.

"Eh.. Would you like to try?" You catch his eye.

"May I?" This seems so easy to pluck out of context. Again.

"Of course." You stand up, pushing the chair back, and walk around it, gesturing for Viktor to take your spot. He sits, gently taking the rasp from your outstretched hand. His movements are a little unsure as he presses his pointer finger against the flat top and pushes forward, angling his hand upward. "Ah..." For a second, you reach ahead, from your standing position behind Viktor, before you realize that this probably isn't a good idea. "..You need to angle your hand slightly downward. It will make the rasping a bit easier." Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice your little slip-up and short internal dilemma.

But then he glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "You can touch me. I don't mind." His facial expression reads as inviting of all things and it almost feels like an intentional taunt. A tease. Like you've cracked a bit at the seams and he's gathering the spill with his fingers instead of ignoring it like he should, all while giving you this small, innocent smile. "I think I'll understand better that way, since I have no experience with this."

Finding your mouth suddenly unbearably dry, you pause and release a silent breath. Viktor has to know how this sounds.

"Okay." It's all you say before you're leaning over his shoulder again. This time, your hand overlaps his and you hold the tool with him, doing your damn best to focus on helping and not Viktor's sharp little inhale that you can hear clearly with how close you are. You angle your hand and it forces his to do the same, and you push. The rasp files down the excess metal with much less resistance. You pull back before the touch becomes awkward. More awkward than it already feels.

Viktor is still and silent and he's not looking at you anymore. His grip on the rasp is tight and white-knuckled and his head is facing straight forward. Your gut sinks as you realize you definitely messed up. Fuck. You feel awful.

Before you get a chance to apologize, Viktor leans his head against the knuckles of his free hand and clears his throat. "..Thank you." He lifts his head against and loosens the painful-looking hold he has on the tool. When he begins to rasp again, he finally glances at you again and you nearly loudly release an exhale of relief. There are no harsh lines of malice or disgust in his face. Instead, there's a little smile. "Er, is this correct?"

"Yes. That's perfect."

You're not sure if it's a good idea to hope the brief bashful-seeming look on his face before he turns his head again isn't only part of your imagination. But you do. More than you should.

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noxturnalmoth · 8 days ago

Text

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings: Canon violence

Word Count: 15, 463

Masterlist: here

Chapter 6 - Catharsis and Ruination

After the meeting with Sevika, Silco had been more relaxed than you've ever seen him. A huge weight taken off of his shoulder after having poured all of his feelings out, and also at knowing his daughter was safe and cared for, building a life for herself out of the noise and healing. And that in turn made you so very happy, because his happiness was becoming your number one priority as time passed while sharing your life with him. Which was probably because of your ever growing feelings, but you'd ignore these until Silco inevitably notices.

Until he notices the stares, lengthening in duration, and the adoration coating each and everyone of them.

But how could you not admire him, not only his beauty but his strength as he carries your heavy components to spare you the extra work and save you time. His resilience, still managing to stand up and live even after all that he had survived, still managing to fight for what he thought was right. How controlled and composed he could be even if he was possessed by an all consuming storm, deep down in the abysses he refused to show anyone. But what you loved the most was how he placed himself in your hands when he was broken, choosing to heal instead of continue his stubborn and desperate ways. Broken shards of crystal put so gently in your hands, cutting you as you pieced him back together, but you didn't mind.

Not when he grew more gentle and kind, letting you peek at who Silco truly was. Not when your shared banter soothed your hard days, not when you proudly executed your plans of working Piltover's forces to the ground. Especially not when you fell asleep to his warmth in your bed, cradling you, hands brushing your hair.

But you had to hide it. For his sake.

He was rebuilding himself, a new life opening itself to him. And one day, he'd probably want his own space, be his own man without your help. And as much as it hurt, you resigned yourself to swallow it all down because being a friend was all you could really hope for, you were only a transitory period after all.

And if that's what you'd have to be, then so be it.

As the constant clinking of your hammer dictated the rhythm of your day, you find yourself working later than usual, letting Silco leave before you like many nights for the past two weeks. Creating molds, writing blueprints to carve intricate designs on metal, soldering articulations and mechanisms to escape the confines of your own mind, all to loud with infatuation.

Now that your dear friend isn't here the air is easier to breathe, mind clearer for but a moment before it spirals again. Both distance and proximity not helping with the tumultuous waters clashing in your heart.

The hammer is harshly brought down on the anvil, metal clashing against metal and shaping the red hot sheet. Your form leaning over it panting from the heat, exhertion and the constant emotional turmoil you've been facing for months now.

Sevika's arm was coming together, balanced to her body weight and size unlike the one Jinx had made her, the oxydized copper and dark, gunmetal steel entertwining in the distinct Zaunite designs you've grown up with. Harsh and industrial in their material and edges, jutting forward to cut at anything approaching, yet organic in shape, gothic and intricate.

It was nearly done, the outer plating was completed and only needed to be covered in the metal lace you've spent so many sleepless nights working on. The clawed fingers only needed to be assembled, the wrist joint soon to be attached while the plating of each knuckle is doubled with more lattice.

"You should rest."

Your body tenses at the touch on your shoulder as you direct the chisel currently in your hand towards the noise, quick and calculated although the movement itself was instinctual.

"Fuck, Silco. Give a little warning next time."

"I did, called out to you but you were unresponsive. I get that you want to help Sevika with her arm but something else is at play here."

His form approaches, looking at you with soft worry, as if scared you'd run away.

"Sorry, I've been in my head a lot lately."

"I've noticed, do you want to talk?"

You grab your soldering machine, your goggles brought down on your face by your other hand as sparks begin to fly about, fireworks in the palms of your hands as you pull the arm together.

"I guess that with the thing at Vander's statue and the talk with Sevika I've been...Realizing how close we're getting to a full on civil war."

"Does it frighten you?"

"Only a fool would feel no fear at something like this."

Your voice mumbles as joints, plates and intricate metal lace are interwoven, pieced together like a puzzle. And for a while it was silent, your thoughts sinking back into the dark recesses of your mind.

"And what's this?"

You turn around to find Silco holding a blueprint, one you've made with the hex crystal in mind. A circular pedestal with a round indent at the center, some grooves leading from it to the arches creating a dome over the contraption. A crank and button were linked to the main component on a smaller rectangular piece, to activate the machine and change the positions of each of the six wheels. On each of those were mirrors, small and circular in shape, that would be engraved with a rune yet you knew not which one just yet. Held up by four long pins was a cylindrical sheath, meant for a shimmer vial, placed right above the hex crystal's resting place.

"It's for Samira, gave her the arcane stone we found and she said she could maybe use it for treatments because it seems to help with certain mollecules. So I'm helping her channel it."

He nods, thumbs caressing the paper as he observed each intricacies, your writing thoroughly analyzed as he whispered each word scratched on the large page.

"Did you get started on it?"

You nod looking towards the side table and Silco walks towards it, the sheet covering the intricate machine soon taken off to reveal it half done.

"I just need to solder the parts together and find the right runes. Unfortunately I know no one capable of helping and going topside would be bad right now, especially since Jayce Talis disappeared and he was the only one capable of helping."

You mumble, the arm slowly yet surely taking shape between your expert hands. The calouses covering them being followed my more recent scars, some of them from today, crusted over by blood, soot and sweat.

"Two weeks."

You turn to Silco confused, the cloth at your hip used to wipe your sweaty face as he walks towards you, pushing your goggles up.

"You've been working, going on missions and doing all of this for two weeks."

"I'm fine."

"You look dreary. Do not lie to me."

You sigh as he grabs your chin, dehydrated and exhausted you couldn't help your head from lolling just a bit, leaning into his warm touch.

"Let me finish this at least, please Silco. I just need to put the elbow pieces together."

He huffs a soft breath, your chin freed from his grasp as he pulls your goggles back over your eyes, pushing your sweaty hair back from your forehead afterwards. His head nods to your workspace, prompting you to finish the soldering, moving the arm around and bending every joint to see if everything was up to standard. And with a groan you stretch, arms and back popping before you rip your goggles way, letting them hang around your neck.

"Let's go home, you grump."

"I'm only a grump because you're working too hard."

"Now, you're one to talk Mr.I've been a revolutionary since my teen years."

"Dove."

His voice thunders dangerously and you freeze in the doorway, shaking your head to get your control back yet grateful that the colored neon lights of Zaun hide the red flush of your face. You begin walking as he closes up, long strides easily letting him catch up with you

"What? I finished Sevika's arm, I'll have less work now."

"Now." He points out. "It still doesn't erase the fact you've spent even your days off at work. What about this project you told me about?"

"It's a part of it. The new contraption I mean. There are so many diseases stemming from Piltover's chemicals we could heal with something like that, Silco. Sump resistant plants are needed, and moss doesn't nearly make enough sap. But with enough of it and this crystal, we could create a healthcare system for Zaun."

"You are resting this weekend, I will not take no for an answer."

"I have to see Sami-"

"She can wait."

Silco's tone was flat, indicated he would indeed not accept any debate on his choice. When you two get to bed that night it feels heavy, the ever growing sentimentality you feel for him, your exhaustion overtaking you as you enter his embrace. You didn't even have time to caress his hair before you were dragged to the abyss of sleep, drowning in nightmares that felt more and more distant as Silco held you.

"Have you been to the northern fissures?"

He asks when you nearly crawl out of bed and to the table in your small kitchen, the bed way too good after barely sleeping for the past two weeks. Your already small nights smaller and your days off spent slaving away at the forge.

The only answer he gets is an unceremonial grunt as you slide in your chair, your breakfast soon put in front of you.

"Is that a no or a yes?"

"No." You sigh happily as you savour the flatbread and sautéed squid, spiced and seasoned to perfection as always. "I wasn't here when they were still open."

"Would you like to go?"

His question surprises you and you think before swallowing your bite with coffee, your cup prepared to your taste. Your eating habits engrained within Silco's clever mind from the time you two spent together.

"I'm up for it." And before your next question can pass the threshold of your lips realization lights your eyes up like the neons illuminating Zaun. "That's where you worked before, wasn't it?"

"Indeed."

"And you want me to come?"

"Not just to the mines. It's more...a specific place within it."

"An old haunt?"

He huffs softly, head bouncing in a soft nod while his hair follows the movement, untied and silky. And although you've always kept yourself from being intimate unless it was when the sun came down, in the alcove or in your bed, today your body moved before you could scold yourself into staying still. Body leaning forward held by your left hand, the right one brushing through his hair before pulling it behind his ear. And he looks at you like you brought air filtration to Zaun, your own lip worried between your teeth as you tried to keep his hair from falling back, making it as perfect as you could, his silence broken when he clears his throat.

"Something like that, yes."

He sounds breathless and you tilt your head in confusion before he nods to your plate, his good eye back to its usual half lidded nonchalance while he motions to your cooling breakfast.

"Sure, why not. Last time you brought me to a special spot to you we became friends, I wonder what will happen now."

You smile up to him, cheeks full of food while he scoffs, entertwining his hands as his elbows hold his arms up on the table and his face is hidden behind them, his eyes looking to the side.

"It's not that special."

He nearly mumbles, sound smothered by his hands.

"Is that place special to you?"

"Very."

"Then it is that special. And I'm glad you see me as worthy enough to share such an important place."

Silence settles between the two of you and you point to his plate the same way he had pointed to yours.

"You are."

Rings after a while, the sound bouncing off the walls.

"What?"

"Worthy. You are worthy, to me."

Your eyes gloss over, goosebumps lifting each hairs on your body, and your heart pumps your blood at inhuman speeds within your veins, skin becoming too hot too quickly. Your thoughts stopped and freezed into place, soon enough becoming blank. The small sweet sentence enough to force your whole being into a reboot for the exception of your heart, which was thrumming in elation at the words.

The only thing you can answer with, a smile stretching across your face slowly, before you two leave is something small and quiet. Demure enough in its dictation and cadence that it would have sounded like the Janna's blessing cutting through Zaun's narrow streets if it weren't for the utter silence in the room.

"You're worthy to me too."

The trek there was spent in relative silence, the busy streets serving as back drop until the noise faded into mechanical whirrs and soft whistling. The structures of the northern fissures abandonned and the houses less populated and quieter the closer you got to the mines.

The strong smell of metal, rust and humidity dampening your senses as you enter the dark cave, taking apart some planks and pulling them back in place, the light from outside disappearing and leaving you and Silco in the dark. That's when you jump, a loud clap bouncing off of the walls and illuminating the stone path, your friend looking at you smugly.

"What?" The light dims again and this time you clap, revelling in the way the fungi around you glow, crouching to pat one in wonder. "I've never seen those before!"

Silco is right behind you, bending at the waist to look over your shoulder, as he chuckles, voice sweet and gravelly as he looks fondly to the mine's tunnel.

"They only grow in the mines, the chemicals bond with some of the metals here and fungi gain this bioluminescent quality to them."

You pick a few of the big bulbous mushrooms and put them in your satchel, wiping your now slimy hands on yourself while Silco sighs.

"What? I need to bring back more plant samples to Samira and those seem full of sap. I can't work on y-" You stumble over your words quickly. "-the first type of antidote, without a good enough amount of this. Although I don't know if it'll work, but it's better than nothing, trial and error and all that."

You get back up and turn to Silco who has his eyebrows raised inquisitively and you pray to Janna that your rant made him forget about your little slip up. Your hands clap and you two continue to make your way, further and further down the winding paths.

That's when you notice.

"Silco, is anything still happening in those mines?"

"No, they're abandonned, why?"

You point to your right, claw marks littering the wall and ground. Your eyes follow them and you clap louder.

"Is that where we need to go?"

He nods, face grave and good eye narrowed. There were no grand signs of panic coming from him yet you could see the tension in his shoulders, the clenching of his jaw and his hands clenching and unclenching as if preparing for a fight.

"Let's go."

"It could be dangerous. I wouldn't want to risk-" He takes a sharp breath and shakes his head. "We don't have to go."

"Well, I want to. This place is important to you, so let's go."

You take his hand, his whole form rattling in surprise at the touch. Whenever the lights dimmed, you would make a small noise, loud enough to make the fungi glow with life, not enough to bounce off of the cavernous walls and start a headache. And after a moment of walking, Silco now back to leading you while his hand remained in yours, you gained an idea.

You knew that miners were superstitious to a certain extent, believing in the goddess Janna more than most along with those from the Sump. And growing up you would hear chants, now engraved in your heart you thought it to be a better way to illuminate the plants leading your way instead of ringing noises.

"Bey'fet ihru ga, Ahuni lek'cho."

The way lights up.

Beyond these walls, the Storm's fury grows.

Silco's hand squeezes yours, a small nostalgic smile growing on his face as you look at him. So you squeeze back, eyes observing the growing beastly marks on the surfaces of the tunnels as lights dimmed.

"Bey'un habbab, Ahuni lek'cho."

Albeit the growing concern of the ruined tunnel, clawed left and right, you two advance, steps assured yet hands clasped to one another's in comfort.

Over the seas (and land), the Storm's fury grows.

It was strange how the sound of the chant ricoché'd in the long stone corridor, sounding almost like you weren't alone singing, like this place was not nearly as quiet as you thought it was.

What was also strange was how you weren't scared and neither was Silco, his form more relaxed than when you had first observed the claw marks and so were you. Was it the song, reminiscent of something real and concrete that could root you back into reality. Or maybe it was Silco's presence. You knew your lack of fear could be attributed to the latter, the former only exacerbating the effects of it. Yet you couldn't help but hope deep down that you were the cause for his comfort too.

"Suhbi al naa yih.."

Rings when the dark swallows the two of you, Silco's voice soft and nearly whispered, a soft rhythm cadencing his words into a song.

The blue bird exists and thus...

The tunnel illuminates, the smile on Silco's face growing and showcasing chipped crooked teeth, watered by your own surprised expression also morphing in a toothy smile. His eyes, shining with mirth and something more tender, were still trained forward to a quickly approaching wooden door. Yet you could see them leaving the path to observe you, the lights dimming as your cheeks flushing red.

"..Kha aademas auja."

I fear nothing.

You answer, lighter in tone, the lights around you shining only dimly, enough for you two to walk to the doorway. That's when you notice the small golden glow from inside, your hands gripping one another's tighter before separating. Your own reaching for your Noxian knuckle blades, the same ones that you had been using for nearly a year now, polished and sharpened to perfection. While Silco takes two daggers in hand, he nods to the door and you step back, knocking it down with a heavy kick.

You immediately zero in on the now black haired girl, eyes blazing in anger at the recognition.

"I told you not to come back here girl!"

Her eyes widen as your body staddles her, blades at her throat, body tensing.

"I'm sorry, I promise I have a good reason!"

That's when two metallic clanks resound in the room, a choking breath, then a shaking sob following them. You glare at Violet as you turn, Silco was standing straight with a long blue haired girl gripping him tightly. The small brown haired child from the revolt at the Lanes, her locks now changed from a soft brown to a bright yet patchy blue, looking confused between the two displays.

"You can let her go."

Silco breathes out, arms reaching around his daughter and you sigh, getting off of the older sister and sheathing your blades back in your belts. You show your hand to her, beckoning her to take it so you could help her up.

"Looks like you're good for now, Violet."

"How-"

"Later."

You nod at her before moving to the child, remembering her name from your meeting with Sevika. You crouch with a friendly smile and take her mining helmet away, ruffling her hair before placing the hard hat back on her small head, the kid laughing at the ministration.

"You must be Isha, are you alright kiddo? You've pulled quite the stunt last time at the reunion."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion before nodding, a grin stretching across her face, her arms embracing you softly and quickly before she pulls back.

"Dad, how...how did you survive?"

"Let's sit down for that, poppet."

And sit down you all did, Jinx looking at you suspiciously while you settle down next to her father, Isha on her lap as she sits and Vi to her side leaning against the wall.

"You're alive.."

"I am."

"Why didn't you come back to me? I thought I-" Jinx trembles, her eyes glossing over as she gazes at Silco's hand reaching around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

"Because I have learnt that I had caused too much damage, too much death. And that killing is a cycle that only walking away can break." He sighs, his thumb rubbing your shoulder as his other hand reaches for his daughter's face. "I have hurt you, you know that?"

"I know but, you were-"

"The best father I could be with the way I am. I know poppet. But I have made you a weapon, I aided in ruining your already fractured mind. Although I gave you a roof and as much love as I could, I dragged you down with me as I sank into my very own abyss. I'm sorry Jinx."

"You abandonned your dream! You left Sevika and I to pick up the pieces of your empire, the one you built and burnt to the ground yourself!"

Jinx's face leans into Silco's hand, yet her lips tremble, confusion and anger, sadness and fear tainting her face.

"I have left the empire I built as the Eye of Zaun, yes. But I haven't abandonned my dream of a Nation for all of us. My friend and I have been quietly working towards it, her for longer than I have, and I just followed in her steps."

Everyone's eyes shift to you and you nod as a greeting, your name slipping from your lips, preferring Silco to talk in this situation.

"She was there when it all happened, and saved me from the goodness of her heart. She helped me heal, in more ways than one, even when I was more than undeserving of it. She gave me a place to stay, and honest insight into my own mistakes. She's welcomed me in her life, in her work and in her rebellion. I would not be here now if it wasn't for her."

"That doesn't make you a good man." Scoffs Vi, Silco takes his hand away from Jinx and nods solemnly.

"Indeed, and I do not pretend to be. All I can do is be better. If I didn't, I know she would have been the first to set me back on the right path." Silco's voice rumbles. "Or to beat me into it."

You chuckle, the sound calling his eyes to you, the ever so soft gaze melting you as it always does. It seems to shock Jinx and Vi who look to one another with amused yet distraught faces.

"You bet I would have, you fossil."

His laugh rings in the shabby wooden room.

"Are you two..In charge of the Children of Zaun then?"

"Yes, Vi. Are you still an enforcer?" You answer back, eyebrows raised and gaze trained to the giant mechanical gauntlets behind her.

She scoffs. "No, turns out stopping Cait from shooting through Isha to get to Jinx is good enough of a reason for her to go Noxian dictator on us."

"That was the reason?"

She nods sadly, the affection in her eyes broken by such pain that you knew exactly what had happened.

"The things we do for love, right kid?"

"You can say that again."

"The things w-"

Silco takes the hand around your shoulders to your mouth and you snort, the room's tension dissipating as everyone followed you. You take the hand off, entertwining your fingers with Silco's. A gesture to calm yourself and be closer to him, hoping to Janna he would let you be so intimate, yet also that he'd build distance between you two to not let you fall into delusions. He lets it happen, squeezing once, your heart replicating the movement in shackled adoration.

"And you Jinx, how have you been?"

The girl's pink eyes snap to yours curiously, a pinch in her eyebrows showing shock at your care towards her.

"I've been...alright, better."

"So I've heard. Your dad's been really worried about you, you know? But we saw Sevika two weeks ago, she told us little bunny over there has been helping you." You scrunch your face at Isha who giggles. "I'm glad you found someone to live for, everyone needs something to push them forward."

"And you've been helping, dada."

She mumbles and you smile at her, one hand reaching to ruffle her hair.

"To the best of my ability, you know how your old man is kiddo."

"Commanding?"

"I was going more for cantankerous, stubborn and annoying. But why not?" You smirk and she cackles, your hand retracting to push away Silco's that escaped yours, pinching at your waist. Yet it remained there, softly soothing the bite it had delivered.

"I'm not all that bad anymore, am I, dove?"

Your lips twitch and you turn your head away, shaking it as if you were disappointed simply to hide your blush.

"You're a confident one."

"Oh shut up." He barks a laugh.

Jinx and Vi tense at the noise, eyes widening at Silco before looking at you like you grew two more heads.

"Where is Silco and what have you done to him?"

"What the f-"

You raise your eyebrows at the older girl. "Language."

She purses her lips before shaking her head incredulously, Jinx giggling, reaching to you both with a paper in hand and presenting it to Silco.

"I think you might want to read that, Silco."

"Yes, I...It's from Vander, from way back when..." The younger girl continues.

Your friend takes the letter, the hand at your waist squeezing as his eyes fly through the words.

Silence.

Even as his grip becomes borderline painful, you make no noise to disturb it.

Even as the letter crinkles in his grip.

"This..."

"Could've changed everything? Yeah, that's what we thought aswell."

"Why...?"

You gently take the paper from his grip and read it.

I’ve looked everywhere, but it’s clear you don’t want to be found. God I’m shit at this. I’m sorry. When she died…I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it, but the dirt was on both our hands. Anyways, you know where to find me.

Blisters and bedrock.

Indeed, it could've changed everything. If Silco had found this back in the day, when he was still freshly hurt and untainted by his pain. No matter how clumsy the words are, they convey enough guilt that you knew Silco would have at least heard Vander out. Even if he wasn't forgiven. But after spending so much time with the man, and knowing how profoundly he loves, you know he would have.

So you fold the letter and put it in his pocket, turning towards him and cradling his face. Your breath shaking as you try to look into his eye.

"Do you need time?"

"I'll be fine, I simply-"

"Everything could have been different, but what point is there in drowning in what ifs, Silco? What's done is done, what happened, happened. You've forgiven Vander long ago, and I'm sure that he would have too, given the time. Seeing who you've become now."

"Are you sure?"

"Certain."

Your right thumb caresses his scarred cheek quickly, barely holding yourself back from embracing him with all the love you held for him, before returning to your place, Silco's hand softening around you.

"Why are you two girls here?" You question, leaving Silco to his thoughts.

"Vi here was ruining herself, drinking and fighting after Cait-"

"Jinx." The sister groans.

"And when Isha had been caught, Sev and I went to get her at Stillwater...But there was something there. A beast who killed and destroyed everything in its path. And I promise I'm not lying when I say it's Vander! He said my name! He called me Powder and got out of his murderous transe then he just left!"

The hand around you clenches yet again, Silco's breath shifting to a faster, more chopped cadence. Your hand covers his softly.

"A beast you say?"

"I know it sounds mad but I'm not lying! Something happened to him! I swear!"

"I trust you Jinx." She stops her panicked rambling, Isha holding her close for comfort and her eyes glazed over yet again.

"You do..?" She sounds fully disbelieving.

"Of course, I'm your father's friend and I trust him, so if he trusts you so do I. You're not a bad kid, you just did bad things and I know you regret them. Trust me, I'd know what being a monster is and you're far from being one."

Your smile relaxes her tensed body, Violet looking at you with a faraway look while her face softens into something akin to gratitude and nostalgia.

"So you came because...you thought Vander would come here when he broke out of whatever he was controlled by?"

Jinx nods, not trusting her words.

"And you wanted your sister to come, so you could both reunite with him?"

Her eyes trail to Violet who smiles softly.

"We've seen the claw marks in the tunnels, we trust you Jinx. Your father and I."

The girl sniffles and slides Isha off of her lap, the child walking towards you cautiously and setting herself on the table next to you with your help, hand momentarily leaving Silco's.

"And you?"

"I...wanted to show her this important part of my life." Finally speaks the man, his voice the slightest bit shaky yet reverting back to its controlled tone.

"She has become the most important person for me now, and after seeing and apologizing to Sevika it only felt right to bring her here."

Your heart clenches at his words, you knew he only meant that you were a close friend yet you couldn't help but find it in his tone that he could be more. A delusion perhaps, fueled by the time spent together and his vulnerability, yet something that you couldn't simply gloss over as your hand clenches around his.

"You apologized?"

Vi says incredulously and Silco nods solemnly.

"And I should apologize to you too Violet. I've made your life a living hell, and I know I can take none of it back. But if you ever need anything, consider it done. You don't have to forgive me, not now and not ever if you do not find it in your heart to. Just know that I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for my actions to you and allof those whom I've hurt."

"Wait. Does that mean you were there when the strike team.."

"Yes. Dove here was not only agressive because of what Kiramman did to our people but also because she was keeping you from finding me in the back. She was, once more, my shelter. I owe her my life and so much more, I believe it'd be impossible to repay it all."

You shake your head, elbowing him softly as you try to shake off the way you melted as he said the nickname that he's found for you.

"You already do more than enough Sil."

"I don't believe that's true."

"You don't have to. It's the truth."

You smile and Silco gently grins back, pushing his hips away from the wooden table, his hand caressing you as it leaves its spot on your waist and touches the table. You have half a mind to pursue his touch yet decide against it, body stiffening at the inner conflict. His svelte form approaches two jackets hung on the wall. Grabbing the smaller one he sighs, slowly taking off the one he wears before putting the dustier one on. It fits him perfectly, and you melt at the sight.

It was his old jacket.

He reaches to the other one, placing the one he wore prior on the hanger. Slowly, he turns and approaches the table once more before reaching for your shoulders. Your heart stammers in your ribcage as he slides your coat down your shoulders, your hands twitching and stare darting all over his face as he does so. And when it's off, he gently places the larger jacket on you.

"It fits you."

Silco's voice is nearly imperceptible and you almost swoon and jump into his arms, instead choosing to grab at the leather. The smell of humidity, metal and dirt clinging to it like seafoam on the shores of Ionia. Your eyes find his teal one, the burning orange still hidden behind its eyepatch, and you break just a bit at how he looked at you. It was chaotic, yet soft, something you couldn't decypher yet that had your stomach bursting with firelights, warming you from the inside.

"Guys, he's not here, let's just go."

The moment is broken by Vi and you nod, sighing both in relief and in dejection as Silco steps away. Isha jumped off the table and took your hand, dragging you towards the door and letting a huff of laughter leave your lips as you follow her, the two sisters behind you.

The two girls argue softly behind you, talking about how Jinx had lied again, about Vander's survival, and Jinx defending herself. The child at your side jumping between the sisters before Violet pushes her away, unknowingly throwing Isha to the ground, her small hand scraping against a rock.

"Are you okay little one?"

You ask, crouching next to her and observing her hand. She was bleeding a small bit, and without thinking much you pull a small bandage from one of your many pouches, kissing the small wound before putting the small plaster on it.

"There, all better."

Meanwhile Silco is trying to de-escalate the arguement, softly talking to the two stubborn girls and taking the side of neither. Showing just how much he's grown from an overprotective and blinded parent, to a responsible father even to the child he didn't raise. The older sister now his daughter by proxy from having been his best friend's child, then his brother's, but also Jinx's sibling.

That's when the you heard it, the faraway sound of something approaching. Something big. The lights dimming to nothing but pitch black as the sound gets closer.

You guide Isha behind you, hands reaching for your blades and Silco standing next to his daughter with a protective arm placed in front of her. Violet moved in front of all of you, gauntlets glowing with arcane energy as she gets ready to attack whatever rushes at you, your own form tensing behind her.

"I got your back Vi."

"Thanks, Mrs. Silco." She glances at you from over her shoulder.

You stammer and she smirks, turning back forward. Jinx calls out to her as red light appears in the tunnel, pleading her sister not to hurt the beast currently rushing towards you, snarling violently as if starved. And Vi punches him, you in tow using the knuckle parts of your Noxian blades to push the monster back.

"Don't hurt him!"

Yet as the beast zeroes in on Isha, Violet and you pushed pack with another flurry of punches. Your bodies thrown back at a violent sweep of his claws, you taking the blunt of it as you rushed in front of the girl. Silco holds you close in his arms from your crumpled position on the ground as the gauntlet wielding woman gets back into position.

"Vander!"

The monster closes in, and as you think the older girl will attack again, preferring to protect you all rather than bet your lives on a story, she drops her hands.

The room grows dark again, not even illuminated by the red of the beast's...you wouldn't even know what to describe what was on his back. Some sort of pump, full of a glowing crimson liquid. Probably an artificial heart to animate the, what was meant to be, dead man.

Silco holds you tighter.

"Are you okay, my dove?"

You nod in stupor, clinging to him as Jinx gets up, flicking a lighter on as she holds Isha close. Wandering in the dark, walking towards where Vi and Vander's ghost had been. Her breath is heavy and stuttering, searching for her sister and father in the dark. When the dust clears, you see it.

The beast glows green.

The violent red replaced by a peaceful tone reminiscent of Zaun's neons as Violet holds the monster's neck tight, the larger creature softening in her hold. A hand is over her back, cradling her neck protectively as she turns around, a hand held out invitingly.

"What are you waiting for? He's your dad too."

Jinx sobs, shaking in disbelief before dropping her lighter and rushing to Vander and Violet. You grunt, getting up with Silco's help before joining the girls, Isha clinging to you in fear and wonder at the sight in front of you as she seeks comfort in your touch.

The beast grows restless as it sees Silco, yet as it observes you held so gently at his side, it grows confused.

"It's been so long, brother." You hear from your friend, fear freezing you at the thought of Vander attacking, yet Silco's warmth melting it back.

"Hello Vander." Your voice is small. "I promise we'll explain everything."

Duochrome eyes dismantle the sight of you before his arms open wider and you smile, pushing Silco forward as you stayed back with Isha. The man stumbling in his old friend's grasp as sobs rack through him. Silent, yet strong enough for you to notice the shuddering of his back. Yet his hand grabs yours, pulling you and Isha in the embrace. The warmth of such unbridled love enough to have you crying too, included in a family you were never a part of yet were accepted into.

You don't know how much time was spent in each other's arms, crying, mumbling apologies and I love you's, before you pull away. Still holding onto Silco's hand you turn to the man, his hair out of his usual bun, face struck with so many emotions yet everyone of them was clear. Relief, sadness, guilt, shame.

"You were right." You hear from behind you.

"I know it sounded insane bu-"

"It doesn't matter, Jinx. You were right, and I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for everything."

Violet holds her sister tight and Vander's gaze turns to you and Isha once more.

"Vander, this is Isha. She was taken in by...Powder" You say the name softly, looking at the girl who nods, her eyes looking at you in approval. "She helped your daughter a lot and in turn your daughter helped her." You explain softly, smiling at the creature. "And I'm Silco's friend. I...Helped him back on the right track, you could say."

"She saved me from death, brother. And set me straight, made me a better man. I know you and Felicia would have loved her."

"I was way too young to know all of you back then, Sil."

He looks at you fondly, lips pursing back a smile.

"Perhaps, my dove."

He turns back to his brother in time for you to release a deep breath. Janna, this man didn't know what he was doing yet it seemed like he did. And you hated that you loved it, the self-satisfied yet kind look in his eyes as he said that word in his dulcet tone.

As all six of you make your way out of the mines your eyes trail off to the side, a large tarp covering an entrance to a branching tunnel and you get an idea. You walk towards it, hand leaving Silco's who looks at you in confusion, and rip it from its place in the wooden frame.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, do you want enforcers on our asses for dragging a gigantic man beast. Sorry Vander." You turn to him and nod in apology, the man huffing in acceptance. "So let's at least cover him. We'll bring you guys to my shop."

"You have a shop?" Jinx asks from behind Vander's hulking form.

"A forge, yes. There will be enough space to house him until we think about what to do."

You throw the large fabric over Vander, Violet helping you wrap it around him from the other side. The beast holding it close to himself and covering his head.

"Are you comfortable, Vander?" The man nods, another puff of air escaping him.

"We'll close up shop." You hear from behind you, Silco looking pensive. "She's overworked herself and was long overdue for a vacation."

You turn, an jokingly idignant look permeating your features.

"Hey if you're too old to work hard just say it Sil. Don't pin it on me." You tease as he scoffs.

"I'm not the one who woke up four hours later than usual and looked like death, this very morning."

You roll your eyes as he slips his hand in yours again, dragging you forward and the group following after.

The way to your shop was riddled with curious stares, yet as people saw Silco and you aswell as the blue haired girl, they nodded. Respect pouring from their forms as they turned away, blind to your group while you walked to the forge. Entering it and closing the metal blinds behind you, forge soon illuminated by the hearth's flame, Isha helping you haul wood there all too happily. Each time she would bring back a small bundle you'd pinch her cheek lovingly, a small kiss delivered to a new part of her face and she'd giggle on her way back to get more fuel.

In the back, Silco is sitting next to Vander, Violet on the other side of the bigger man and Jinx on the table in front of everyone, observing and quipping at times. The energy she was known for nowhere to be seen. Yet you can understand why, discovering two of the fathers she lost are still alive and that both have drastically changed, one more than the other. Along with her past and her newfound responsibilities as the face of Zaun's rebellion and parent to Isha, you could understand why she's changed so much from the loose canon she used to be.

You set yourself next to her, hips leaning against the table before bending to take Isha in your arms, the girl clinging to you and Jinx talking next to the both of you.

"All I'm saying is that there must be a way to change him back! Or at least to make him I don't know...Vander again! Without anymore of those freak outs!"

"We'd have to find the reason for those sudden changes, though." Silco leans back on the couch, arms draping over the back.

Isha shuffles around in your grasp and you get off of the table, placing her next to Jinx. That's when you look down at her hands, brushing yours against them, that you realize what the reason for Vander's rage could be.

"Blood." All eyes turn to you.

"Violet pushed Isha away while she was arguing with Jinx, and the kid scraped herself on a rock. She bled and it's only after that, that Vander rushed to the mines."

You show the child's injured hand, the bandage on there taken away so you could clean it again before you put a new wrap on it. The girl hugs you, her face nuzzling right under your chest. The older sister turns to you and you break from the embrace, going to lean against the wall.

"But we can't know for sure."

"We can."

You take Silco's dagger out of your pockets, the same one he had gifted you over a year ago, and flick it open, spining it between your fingers.

"No."

"Silco.

"Dove." He gets up from his spot to approach you, his pace panicked "I'm not letting you put yourself in danger, even if Vander is himself now, your method could work and tick him off and you could get gravely hurt. You will not try it."

"Then we'll never know! We need to know what triggers him to know what to avoid! I mean maybe my blood won't even work because so many people bleed at once, maybe only the blood spilled by people somehow important to him can get him angry!"

"For Janna's sake, you are important."

His voice bounces from every wall yet he doesn't yell, his words are harsh, clipped and hissed with the concern and care of his eyes softening his agression.

The room was so silent that Vander's deep breaths could be heard.

Violet is standing up from the couch, fists clenched and body tense as she seems to want to come and protect you. Jinx holding Isha with a soft gaze trained towards you, Vander's heterochromatic eyes looking at you in a similar fashion.

And for all the hope it gives you, at how concerned Silco is and at how everyone seems to react to it, you'd rather not imagine why their gazes are that way lest you fall into delusions again.

"Silco?"

"You are taking the week off, and you are not executing your little plan. Promise me."

"Sil-"

"Promise."

His voice grows more and more gentle, one hand sliding up from your shoulders to hold your chin and direct your gaze to his.

"Promise me, my dove."

And under his gaze you crumble, the touch, the nickname, the tone of voice and his form hiding yours from the others' inquisitive looks are enough to leave you flushed. Shaking you nod.

"With your words."

"Yes."

His eyebrow arches, lips pursing in discontent, the marred side of his face twitching.

"Yes, Silco."

And with that he sighs, his hand caressing your chin as he leaves the room under the excuse of going to buy dinner, and you breathe heavily, ragged and fast.

"So...how long have you two been together?"

"What?!" You turn to Violet, expression disbelieving.

"You're...not?"

"No! Why would he-" You purse your lips and straighten. "We're not together. We aren't. We're just friends. He's just changed, that's all."

A scoff is heard from the table, Jinx barely holding back a laugh. her blue hair moving with her like flowing water from the Frelljord.

"Well then he must be pretty stupid!"

"Jinx, that's your father."

"Riiiight, sorry mom."

You groan, dragging yourself to a chair and slumping on it, face on the table. Your blush spreading through you like wildfire, the teasing only making it worse.

"Let's just not."

"Even Vander thinks it."

"Well I can't hear him teasing me so that's fine by me. Sorry Vander." A huff answers you, almost sounding like a chuckle. "Oh f-.. shut it."

"Men are stupid. That's a given." A pat's given on your back, Violet's warmth seeping through the heavy miner's jacket.

"And women too apparently."

"You can say that again."

"And wom-" She smacks the back of your head and you sigh out a laugh, a hand raking through your hair as you sit up straight. "Really though, let's not."

"You're torturing yourself liking a man like that." And to your surprise Jinx nods along.

"I know girls, don't remind me."

A small hand pats your hair and you look forward to see Isha smiling at you, making humming noise and you grin back.

"How could we help Vander though?" Vi sets herself next to you.

"His body might not be salvageable. From what I know his death could very well have destroyed his body, so this may be what we have to work with." Jinx gazes towards where you are, Isha crawling into your lap from hers.

"But who could help?"

"Dada knew a man, Singed. Tall, burnt, very creepy. He made shimmer. He saved my life too, he could-"

Vander's growl stops her, all eyes pinning him like darts on a board, he looks restless and his eyes are swirling with so many feelings you couldn't even begin to fathom. Pure unbridled fear is what rolled out of him in waves, and so it was clear to all of you then that Singed was not an option.

Then you remember, so many rumors coming from clients, words whispered on the streets of a healer. Many refused to believe such a thing as you were in Zaun and a magical, kind being offering their help without demanding anything in return was bound to be a scam. At best, you would go back home naked, destitute of all your possessions. As for the worst? You would either have no home to come back to, or no life animating your body.

Miracles were a gamble, even more so in Zaun where you were ground 0 to test all of what seemed to cruel or inhumane to try on any other human.

Yet over the past year this mysterious healer had gained a following, apparently rallying and helping those in need where you originated from. The Sumps.

The lowest, poorest and most dangerous of the levels in the Undercity. Where those who have nothing live, praising Janna for a blessing that you now knew would never come.

Or would it?

People came back changed from this healer, or never came back again. Describing a kind, soft spoken man draped in dark blue, his long hair caressed as if he carried the Winds with him, a scepter of marble and gold held within his ethereal, indigo grasp. Eyes a kaleidoscope that could see through your very being, separate soul from body and pick apart every emotion, every atom, before pulling them back together, better than before.

You feared a cult, a hidden scheme, yet seeing Jinx and Violet now clinging to Vander as he held them close, Isha pulled along in the beast's lap; you couldn't help but want to believe. When you saw Silco's walls crashing down, sobbing in his brother's arms with abandon, his emotions seemingly less in his control.

You couldn't help but hope.

And hope was all a Zaunite could ever do with the life they were dealt with.

Hope for financial stability, a roof over their head, clothes on their back, food in their belly, love if life allowed them and a child if the gods were generous. Hope was all you could afford, fear was all you were awarded.

And on the cusp of a civil war, a revolution, you needed more than simple hope. You needed a concrete sign.

So when Silco comes back you propose your plan to smuggle Vander down to the Sumps, and meet this man. The Singed man not an option you could explore due to the man-beast's restlesness at the mention of him. And Silco looks conflicted, just like you imagining so many bad outcomes for his dear friend, this healer capable of bringing him back or take him away from the lithe man's grasp again, him and both sisters left behind like before.

Yet the more you talk and resonate, the more you see the gears and cogs of their minds turn, analysing and pondering every word flowing from your lips. You had nothing much to lose anymore and Vander needed to be stable, maybe then some of the ever growing tension that was generated by the inter-city conflict could be erased. Leaving your minds clear and ready for the approaching fight.

The war readying itself right under your eyes.

So food was quickly consumed, the afternoon having passed and the evening quickly rolling by.

"Vi and I will sleep here with Vander. You take Isha with you for a nice bath and a soft bed."

You nod at Jinx, and although it takes a bit more time to coax the little girl into coming with Silco and you, she eventually does. So you close up shop and bid goodnight to the two girls already holding their father close, a soft yet sad smile growing on your face, watered by the bittersweetness of the moment.

Isha holds your hand as you walk back home, jumping up and down yet slowing down until she comes to a stop, exhaustion overtaking her after such an eventful day.

"Come on darling, let's get some rest yeah?" She nods, your arms slipping around her as you carry her the rest of the way.

You wake her up for a bath, draping the girl in one of your shirts for the night, way too big for her tiny frame. And soon enough after both you and Silco were done with your routines you all got in bed. Isha softly held between the two of you, one of your hands cradling her to your chest and the other brushing through your friend's luscious, salt and pepper locks, sometimes switching so you can scratch at his scalp.

"You're good with children." His soft voice echoes in the dark room.

"I just give them what they deserve. What I haven't been given at their age. In Zaun a little goes a long way."

"Yet you go above and beyond, for children and adults alike."

"We all need respite, why deny kindness when it costs nothing?"

He chuckles, the arm over you and Isha tightening its grip at your waist. The one in your hair moving to caress his knuckles at your cheek for a moment.

"Thank you, for Vander, for Jinx. For everything."

"No thanks are needed. You're my friend Silco" You lie, yet the affection in your words is as true as it can be. "I would go to the ends of Runeterra if you so asked."

Your eyes grow heavy, head sinking deeper into your pillow as words are whispered to you, undecypherable because of the exhaustion putting your mind at rest.

The next morning you wake up to the sight of Isha holding a tray with a big smile on her face, Silco in tow with your mug in hand unwilling to let the girl hold hot liquid.

It all felt so homely, that you couldn't stop two tears from sliding down your cheeks.

Wiping at your face you joke that you cry sometimes when you're tired and kiss the child on the forehead, laying the tray on your legs as you sit up. Looking at the hearty breakfast then to the two people standing near you, Isha coming to curl up at your side while Silco sits by your legs.

"She insisted on bringing this up to you."

"Not you?" You tease, nodding in gratitude as you take the hot cup from him, humming at the aroma and taste of coffee.

"Should I start then, my dove? Mh?"

You nearly choke on the hot beverage in your hands and go to stuff your face, hoping to Janna he cannot see your blushing face in the dim room.

You learn that even though she can speak, Isha is indeed very persuasive and insistent. Taking your empty tray downstairs with a bounce in her step as she pointed to your small wardrobe with a jokingly stern look, probably excited to see Jinx again.

You pick breakfast on the way, and hesitate on what to get Vander. His new form far from human which makes you doubt anything concerning his eating habits, so you pick up something similar than for the rest of you hoping to Janna it'll fit him.

Breakfast is shared with everyone huddled in the back room, Isha cuddling Jinx and signing excitedly, probably to explain how her evening went. And your doubts seem confirmed when Jinx looks at you incredulously, whispering to her sister from the side while she hides her mouth from view. You roll your eyes jokingly and spare them a desperate pointed stare as Violet chokes on her pastry, Vander huffing as his ears pick up what is said.

"What are they planning?"

"You don't wanna know, Sil." The three girls laugh. "Trust me."

"I think I do."

"No you don't you fossil, now stop swirling your coffee mysteriously before I drink it myself."

"You wouldn't, it's too bitter."

"Don't try me."

Soon enough Vander is covered back with the tarp, fabric hiding his monstrous form. Violet puts on her gauntlets, Jinx holds Isha's hand and you all get out, Silco and you closing up shop.

The way to the Sump is not all that long, your small hole in the wall community being very near the limits of the Entresol level. Though the labyrinth of the lowest level is another story, the thin corridors nearing a prison sentence are hard to navigate through with the man-beast's hulking form, the group following you as you expertly make your way through the sullen streets. Filled to the brim with those who had less than nothing, the only reason they keep going being faith in Janna's return and her blessings.

"Excuse me, we wish to find the healer, I believe they call him the Herald. Would you be so kind to guide us?"

The small, frail woman you kneeled in front of trains her eyes to you, slowly, exhausted from hunger and the cold. You hand her a pastry, having bought extras to give to those in the Sump, and a handful of coins. Not quite bribing her, more like delivering a counter offer for her help.

She takes your hand with her shaky ones, and with soot draws a small map. The lines are scribbled, the map nearly unreadable, but as she puts down a couple of landmarks your brain ticks in understanding.

"Thank you ma'am. If you ever need help, come to my shop, it's near the Sump entrance on the east of the Entresol. Just ask for me."

You tell her your name and that she can spread the information to as many people as she can. A small, tired smile lights up her sunken face and she holds your shoulders gently, caressing them before letting you return to your group.

As you travel deeper into the Sump the tension within the group grows, not knowing what to expect of the Herald yet wishing to the Gods that he would be able to help.

On the way there you give the last of your pastries to some of the poor fellows down there, repeating what you had said to the woman so that they know they have a safe space to run to if they want it. And time passes, walking through the foul sump smelling streets, metallic groans and cries of pain haunting the very air you breathe, until the buildings become sparse.

As they become sparse you observe the way Isha clings to Jinx who is by Vander's side, Violet on the other, revelling at the sight of the family.

"Why don't you join them, Silco?" You ask softly, eyes trailing to the man walking next to you, steadfast in his position by your side since you offered him a new chance at life.

"They deserve to be a family, I'm the reason the girls lost their parents and even Vander, I hurt Jinx and Violet got imprisoned because of me. It wouldn't feel right."

"Yet you're Vander's brother and Jinx's father. You have as much of a place in this family as any of them."

"I think the only place I have left in this world is by your side."

You bite your cheek, a sigh escaping your lips as if it needed to leave you, to run away. You couldn't stop your heart from rushing everytime he talked to you so solemnly, looking at you as if you hung up the moon. Those words never helped, they made everything so much worse in fact.

This man had found his family once more.

You tell yourself.

He will leave even if he says otherwise.

You reason.

At least you try to, cutting your delusions down as you always do, knowing they'll come back with a revenge but unwilling to deal with them at the moment. They always do around him. His tender care like soil to the fragile seed of your heart, providing warmth and growth, his affection like the sun and the rain feeding your soul.

Around you the buildings make themselves sparce, the thin space of the ravine opening up to a clearing. The space in front of you which you knew to be filled with quaint tents to some inhabitants of the Sump now...a commune?

The sun shined down upon it from breaks in Piltover's metal plating over Zaun, like the Celestials shone down upon this small bit of paradise in the bedrock. What was the most surprising was not the organic shapes of the buildings, white like carved marble and ornate with gold and stained glass, although it was the second on your list. No, it was the field surrounding the small town.

Plants growing in the Undercity.

In the chemical soil, ruined by the upperside's arrogance, watered by toxic waters ruined by experimentations and so called "progress", grew flowers and grass, and you would wager food too if this commune was as self sufficient as it looked.

And it was beautiful.

Even more so as you approached, the grandeur of the place seeping into your bones, warth feeling you as you see...happiness. The crowd coming in along side you filled with hope.

"Vi. I hoped you might return."

Says a man in white, a member of the commune if you could judge by the way he was dressed and by the strange gilded scars on his face. But for all the man's gentleness, Vi stepped forward, tension and agression shaking her very being like you when you first saw her again.

"You filthy traitor."

"Yes, that was me at my worst. Simply awful." He glosses over her rage, acknowledging his past mistakes with nonchalance and welcoming other Zaunites into the gates. "But the Herald has freed me of my past self. He has given me a chance to make amends."

His voice softly fills the air, your body tense at the sheer spectacle of the place, his words heard yet not quite as engrained in you as the sight of heaven within hell.

"All are welcome but I must ask you to surrender your weapons, this is a place of peace."

Your fingers twitch at your side, gaze snapping at him, Vi and Jinx also disgruntled at the words the man just uttered. When you look to your right to find Silco, you find him looking quite similarly to you. Asking a Zaunite to surrender their means of protection was a big inquiry, yet as your eyes trailed to the commune, you can't help but sigh.

Your hands reach beneath your big coat, noxian blades unsheathing and stabbing them in the ground. You are surrendering only this much of your own comfort, Vander is important but you are still a Sumper and a Zaunite and grew up solely in violence. You aren't giving away your tools, and neither are you giving away the dagger currently brushing against your fingers in your jacket's pocket.

Jinx looks at you then at the greeter, her gun suddenly trained on him, the familiar hextech glow shining from within it. But then Violet abandons her gauntlets, the heavy machines slipping from her hands and smashing onto the ground, nodding at you as you follow her in.

You trust that the others would follow.

And they do.

Jinx gives away her gun, keeping the crystal that was stored within it, and Silco gives away two daggers. You smirk at him, knowing that the man was hiding at the very least three more on his person, and he gives you an innocent look. It turns into the usual self satisfied grin as he reaches you.

"Sneaky bastard."

"You're one to talk, minx."

The greeter takes your group to a hill in the commune, no one in the streets minding Vander until you pass by a blacksmith, the man quenching some hot metal and the noise agitating the beast. Yet no one seems to mind him, even as the tarp falls down, nothing but complete gentleness and understanding filling the gazes of the commune's inhabitants, albeit surprised at Vander's appearance.

You soon make your way to a hill, covered in sand and housing a singular, spheric building, from which comes out a man.

The Herald.

And for all of the praise you've heard about him, nothing could have prepared you for how...Ethereal he looked. Body metallic and purple, gilded in certain spots, lithe and tall while it's held up by his iridescent scepter. Yet his face still very human, gentle, the cheeks softly sunken in, his eyes like oilspills and his long hair greying from beneath.

"We hear you can heal people." Is all Vi says before the Herald steps forward, eyes trained on Vander as he stretches his hand towards the beast.

From besides you, you feel Silco moving, his hands already reaching for the hidden daggers he kept on himself.

"Silco, no."

And as you hold his hand, he tenses, the movement fully stopping at your ministration. He sighs and shakes his head in surrender.

That's when the healer reaches Vander, a swift instant passing where purple energy comes from his chest and spreads towards his outstretched hand on Vander's head. Then the man crumbles, seemingly in a daze.

"He is worth the risk." Resounds the Herald's accented, gentle yet almost mechanical voice.

He helps himself up, but as you think his analysis is done, he steps towards Silco, his hand taking the eyepatch away from your friend whose hand is already gripping yours tightly.

"Silco, it is...Strange, to see you here. As much as it isn't. No one truly seems to die anymore, do they?"

Says the healer, a hand outstretched towards your friend before Silco snatches his, his eyes widening, seemingly staring through your friend's soul.

"I'll be fine. We came here for Vander."

"Your eye is infected."

"It is my burden alone to bear, boy. There are more pressing matters at hand."

And the regal man steps back, a soft smile on his face as his eyes trail to you, twinkling with something unknown.

He leads you to a fountain, explaining how he saw within Vander's mind, his dreams, aspirations for Zaun and memories, described the affection the man felt for all of the three important people now reunited with him.

"Can you help him." Vi asks urgently as you set yourself next to her.

"I will do all in my power. However I have one condition."

"Looks like you got a couple." Jinx mumbles teasingly as she stops walking around the fountain.

"You have much to offer this commune..Powder."

Everyone looks at him, surprised at his knowledge of her birth name yet the word cementing his capabilities as true in all of your minds, the girl dropping a coin in the water out of shock.

"Your talents can be used to build instead of destroy." He reaches into the water for the metal circle.

"...I'll stick with what I know..Thanks."

"My condition is that he must be restrained at night. I've seen the harm of which he is capable."

Time passes and Violet looks to her sister.

"What do you think?"

"You...actually want my opinion?" The girl mutters to herself before sighing, getting off the fountain and taking Isha with her.

"I hate fortune cookies."

Violet bids goodbye to Vander and you let Silco do the same, the man holding his friend in a way you would he wish with you. Tightly, with abandon, his body melting into the embrace.

"Good luck, Herald. See you later, Vander." You nod your own farewell, tapping the beast on the shoulder as you walk away, going your own way. The events of the previous day, of the previous year even, catching up to you.

You find yourself welcomed by the inhabitants of the commune, your stomach full and thirst quenched as you walk past homes, the sound of happy chatter and giggling children filling the air. Your body firstly leading you to the blacksmith from earlier, asking to stay and help to occupy yourself, empty your mind of the whirlwind of thoughts finally breaking the dam you've imposed on yourself.

Soon enough, Vander's psyche would be healed, his body impossible to salvage as you had feared. Silco would probably return to him, possibly to his daughter now that she had healed, and perhaps even Violet would join them, Isha obviously coming as a package deal with the younger sister. That's what your mind told you, no matter how much it seemed like Silco would stay, no matter how much he acted like he wouldn't or said he'd be by your side, you doubted him.

And you hated it.

But it was impossible for your mind to change. You grew up, shackled like a feral animal, sent to the pit with no empathy. Whether you died or not didn't matter as long as you put up a good show and racked money. You saw other children die, day by day, you saw men and women bloodied on the ground as your hands clawed at the ground, nails caked in their flesh and the sand from the arena. And months passed, years passed, the red forever staining your hands in your mind's eye, and to escape you had to kill again. Rage overtaking your body as you ripped through skin, flesh and bone; you made a carnage, worse than any you've made in the pit. Survival bubbling with unrestrained anger as you left the premises silent. No spectators, no adversaries, no ring leader, no staff. Just metallic smelling, foul silence; the sound of death.

Yet as you dragged your body to the Entresol you could still hear a combination of elated yells and pained screams, bouncing around your head. And so you became louder than them.

You were taken in, and started working hard. Finding jobs louder than the previous one until you landed on the art of smithing. Loud enough to cover the screams, respected enough that you would be left alone, and social enough that you could help people.

And that is how you lived.

Hot metal beaten day in and day out, helping those in need. Yet you saw it all too quickly that you left one hell for another. Maybe you didn't have to kill everyday to survive, but you saw how Piltover treated Zaun, even how fellow Zaunites treated their own. Sitting on piled up riches made from death and hardwork while they remained lazy and self-righteous, working towards their own progress and not yours.

That's when your blood boiled again, disappointed at how the world was for those at the bottom. So you remembered. Remembered of those stories of miners uniting in a band of misfits, fighting back against the status quo. The Children of Zaun were the only reason you fought back in the pit, the only reason you even dared live, and the reason why you eventually escape.

You wanted to see the Nation of Zaun they were speaking of, wanted to work with them towards achieving it and hoping it would be your repentance for all of the blood you've shed.

And even if tragedy had struck and they had disbanded, you believed in their dream. So when you saw exactly why they dared what they had, you understood all too quickly.

Their vigor, their arrogance..it all made sense. And even if the movement was dead, you would be lying if you said that fighting back wasn't an idea that ate at you. So you did, and eventually it all culminated in you meeting Silco.

Your childhood hero, the driving force behind your own solitary fight. And even if he had fucked up, like hell you were going to let a Zaunite, let alone him, die. Not on your watch.

And you were glad you helped, you were glad you believed. Because beneath the ice cold façade, you saw it. The miner boy who grew to have a dream of freeing his people from oppression, the boy who grew to become a man of action and who got so hurt that his pain led him astray. Focusing his energy into his dream while forgoing the rest, including the very reason he fought.

It felt sweet to know you helped him.

If only these pesky feelings didn't get in the way, turning your friendship into a one way longing, growing into what you feared to be love. Yet as much as you loved him, you couldn't help to fear his departure, knowing a man like this would never settle for something like you. You shared so much in common, his affection so very true.

It just felt impossible for your feelings to be reciprocated.

He was the first person you let in this close, and you feared that even unknowingly he'd rip at your heart.

Days were spent in your own head smithing away and delivering around the commune, coming back in the evening and sharing a meal with your little group. Violet and Jinx seemingly growing closer, Isha included in their banter, Vander growing calmer and his eyes more gentle, Silco more relaxed yet his eyes looking so far away from here.

You shared a room, single bed, and when you looked at the Herald he had this glint in his eyes again. Yet you couldn't be anymore happy that he did. Knowing that you'd be getting no sleep without the soft scratching on your scalp and you scratching on Silco's. His soft hair flowing through your fingers like river water.

"You're not supposed to work."

He grumbles every night.

"If I stay here and don't help, I'll feel guilty."

You always answer back and he sighs, bringing you closer. The drum of his heart against your cheek enough to lull you to sleep.

Today is a day just like any other, where you share breakfast with Silco before going away, leaving him with his daughter and her sisters, Vander soon to be visited by the four of them.

"You work hard, I have to thank you for that." Your name is spoken so softly you nearly miss it under the sound of hammers on metal. Wiping your forehead with a rag you greet the Herald.

"Well, I couldn't bear the thought of staying here for free. Trenchers need to help one another, it's one of the rules."

"Walk with me?"

You look at him confused, then to the two men working alongside you. They smile, nodding to the healer before you step away and towards him, following wherever he needed to go.

"I actually had something to ask of you, Herald, if you'll hear me."

"Of course, what is it?"

"You have many plants here, I wish to take back some to a friend. We're working on an antidote for S-" You bite your lip and sigh.

"For Silco's infection. It's getting worse isn't it?" You nod dejectedly.

"We saw that sap from plants growing in Zaun, mixed with shimmer, could stop his infection. Moss doesn't make nearly enough, and here you grow so many different kinds of plants that...I wished to ask to take some to Samira."

"You may take as much as you need."

You freeze, stopping in your tracks.

"As easy as that?"

"I would have said yes anyways because of your noble intentions but you have been helping the commune, think of it as payment."

He settles himself on a rock overlooking the small slice of paradise he built and you sit next to him, slumping on your knees with your head in your hands.

"You're already doing more than enough for Vander and all of us, I think I'm the one repaying you."

He hums.

"Let's call it a mutually beneficial arrangement, then." You chuckle.

"You're stubborn."

"So are you, helping a man like Silco back on the right path is no easy feat, but you've accomplished it."

"I saved him because of admiration, he stayed because he proved himself capable of change and healing. All he has now is because he worked hard for it, I simply helped."

He chuckles and his cold hand finds yours, patting it gently, the metal feeting heavier despite his ease of movement.

"You're a healer, but do you know anything about applied magic?"

"What do you mean?" His face tilts.

"Something else Samira and I have discovered is that, a hex crystal like this." You hold up the blue marble after fishing it from your pocket. "Can enhance the serum's efficiency. Yet we don't know how to harness it. I've made a machine but I don't know runes for the life of me. Going up to Piltover would be way too dangerous especially since the only person left knowledgeable about runes has disappeared..."

The man freezes besides you, gripping his staff tighter before he slumps, your body turns towards him as he looks at you.

"Show me this machine. Can you write the blueprint for me?"

You nod and get up only to kneel on the ground, picking a tool from your many pouches as you draw shapes after shapes. Arches and annotations following one another in a nearly frenzied scribble.

"The centrifuge force exerced by the machine to mix the serum plus the crystal's energy yield better results than something done by hand, yet I know from previous encounters that Hextech has runes. I may not be a scientist but the stone is the energy source, the machine is the catalyst...yet all that without instructions is useless for optimal results, right?"

He kneels next to you, observing all that you had carved in the sand, one hand holding his chin as his eyes swirl in color. A small excited smile making its way to his face.

"This is genius." He mumbles. "And you've had no real experience in making Hextech before?"

"None, I'm a simple blacksmith." He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

"There is nothing simple about this. You have engeneered an entirely new machine, from nothing with no previous knowledge of magic...Yes, of course I will help you."

"You know runes? I mean you're obviously a mage but..."

"How could I not, when I have fathered half of what has made the inspiration for all of this?" His hand shows your blueprint.

And silence rings loudly between the two of you and your eyes widened.

No one truly seems to die anymore, do they?

You remember him saying that the first day in the commune. And now you understood just how true it was. The man in front of you was the Zaunite who made it to the academy in Piltover, the one who Jayce Talis spoke so fondly of as his partner.

This was..

"Viktor."

You mumble, remembering his name from mourning his incredible mind that had been burried under Piltover's arrogance. No Zaunite could make it there, even one as amazing as him.

He nods and smiles, his eyes filled with sadness yet as they trail to your schematic it's replaced with determination. Your small notebook quickly taken from its place in one of your pouches, a pencil following it as you get ready to take notes.

He described runes to you, their effects and you two theorized which ones would be better for the job, which ones would work better together. And as the morning bled into the afternoon, the young Herald seemed less holy and more human. His usual poise and calm melting into excitement, ideas brightening his eyes, calculations and explanations flowing from his mouth, punctuated by his accent. One you could hear so much down here.

You could see in him, how he's made it so far as a scientist. His passion was unrivalled, the fire in his soul unable to be tamed and only growing stronger the more he learned about the world.

He was a good man.

A great man.

And he did all he could to help, no matter what it cost him.

So you took great care to listen, quipping in whenever you could when you couldn't understand, when you felt like you could add onto the discussion, and he seemed happier each time you did.

Soon you decide that you've worked enough, Viktor needing to return to Vander, and you home. Feeling exhausted from the way you've been pushing yourself. The man gets up and extends a hand towards you, slowly wrapping his fingers around yours as you let him help you up. You make a detour towards the green house so you can pick a few bulbous plants, full with enough sap that Samira could experiment for a while before you had to come back for more. You will give them to her tomorrow.

"Silco is lucky to have someone like you."

You groan.

"Please stop, everyone is saying shit like that and I cannot deal with it. He's found his family again, I'll be old news soon enough."

"I do not think so."

"Why?" You turn to him, an inquisitive look glazing your eyes along with the barely contained longing and Viktor has the gall to chuckle.

"You'll see soon enough. You have been avoiding him, haven't you?"

"I'm..Trying to stop all of these.." You gesture to your chest frantically, though your tone is calmer, yet filled to the brim with unsaid emotions. "..Feelings. I don't want to get hurt if he leaves and I don't want to take his friendship for granted. He deserves better."

"If, he leaves."

"If or when...I don't know, I would hope not but I'm not used to being cared for, to having something really good and not just...Whatever it is that my life always does."

"He won't, don't worry about that. But you will have to mention it sometime soon. Avoiding him will only make it worse, absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say, or it'll hurt the both of you. Take the rest of your time here off, please, I insist."

You sigh and nod at him, eyes trained towards the entrance to the commune as you see flashes of red. Noxian warriors, posted at the gate in their armors, the woman you know as General Ambessa talking to the Huck, the greeter from your first day here, talking to her.

"Viktor?"

"I can see."

"That bitch."

You didn't know the woman personally yet from all of what you've heard, Piltover's dictature was imposed under her watchful eye. Always in the back, planning, killing, manipulating; for what exactly, you didn't know. But you knew enough to understand that her being here isn't just out of the goodness of her heart. Especially after her army had killed and attacked so many of your people over the last year, your hands covered in enough of their warrior blood from defending Zaun. Your weapons, stolen from them, a tribute to your hatred at their belligenrency.

"The doctor.."

Whispers the Herald, a green figure clashing against the Noxian red.

"Go back to Vander, if Ambessa's here I'm sure only misery will follow."

"Very well, do stay safe."

"You too Viktor, take care."

The man nods and the sound of his cane behind you slowly fades away.

You spare one last hate fuelled glare to the gate before entering the tent. Silco is waiting for you there, eyes somber as he gazes at you.

"Out with the Herald, dove?"

"He had insight on the machine Samira and I are working on, he also let me take some of the plants for the sap." You sigh, sitting near him and he grunts.

"I know Sil, you're mad at me for not resting."

"Indeed."

You take his hand in yours.

"The Herald told me to rest, non negociable. I'll be with you the rest of our time here."

He relaxes, a soft sigh escaping him as his other hand undoes his bun, the locks flowing around his shoulders

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Thought you'd prefer to spend time with your family."

"You are a part of it, dove."

You chuckle and shake your head.

"Come on now, I'm your friend yes, but family?"

"You are." His eyes grow more gentle. "Why do you keep on insisting that you matter less than you do?"

Your gaze slips from his and he holds your chin to bring it back.

"Why?"

"Because I know you'll leave when Vander's back for good. Jinx is here, Vander is here, Violet too. You have no reason to stay anymore. I knew you could leave anytime before but I guess I just chalked it to you not wanting to be alone. To you respecting me and being grateful. But now that all you've ever wanted is in the palm of your hand, there isn't much I could bring you."

He stands up, the hand holding your chin tilting your head up to follow his movement.

"Do you think so little of yourself?"

You startle. Expecting him to say "do you think so little of me", yet he pinpoints the source of all of this. You don't doubt him, you doubt yourself. Your usefulness. Your worth to him.

"I do."

His face all but crumples, pain evident in his features.

"For how long."

"Long enough. You can't blame someone that has never had anything good for feeling like they'll lose it all in the blink of an eye."

"For Janna's sake, I'm not blaming you. I'm not leaving. What else should I tell you to make you believe that I'll stay? I love Vander and Jinx, I care for Violet even after everything, yet it's not my place anymore."

Your breathing becomes shallow and you blink back tears, frantically fluttering your eyelashes before you squeeze them shut to force the tears away.

"What do you want Silco, really. I'm just, confused."

"What is there to be confused about? Have I not made my stance on this clear enough?"

"Perhaps not. I don't know what could help, I'm sorry Sil."

You did, yet you knew it would never come. This conversation was teetering on an edge you'd rather not cross because you know that you'd fall into an abyss of torment if you did.

I love you.

Those are the words you desperately wanted to hear, the thought of them squeezing your heart tight from within your chest.

"Look at me."

You breathe shakily, lower lashes covered in thick tears as the hand grabbing your chin suddenly shifts to cradle your face.

"What are you so afraid of?"

"I don't know."

To be alone again. Without anyone close, anyone that knows the true me. Without you. Because I love you so much it hurts me to think of living without you by my side.

"Stop lying."

"I'm not."

"Then why are you hiding from me?" He calls out desperately, voice so soft you'd think he was talking to a terrified animal.

Your jaw sets, trying to regain control.

Then a loud, booming sound rings through the quaint town.

And the gentle silence of the evening changes into an echoing scream of pain, parasited by high pitched screeches that shook you to your core. You push yourself from Silco's grasp to rush outside.

Everybody is dropping like flies.

The gilded marks on their faces glowing as they drop boneless, mouths opened wide. No matter where you go, everyone is the same. And then there is the sound of marching, red flags and black armors shining in the dimming light as you make your way through the commune. Disgust filling your throat and anger bubbling beneath your skin as you see Noxians set their warpath into this place of safety and peace.

So you go to Huck's, silently appologizing to Viktor as you take back the weapons he had asked you to surrender. Silco hot on your trail taking his own daggers back. Your panicked rushing making it impossible for you to sheathe your weapons.

"Let's go get Vander and the others, quick!"

He nods and you sniffle as you run to the greenhouse, wiping at your tears with your sleeves before nearly crumbling at the sight in front of you.

Vander was...bleeding. Fire and magma escaping him instead of hemoglobin, growling and screaming as he frantically moves. Violet is standing near Caitlyn, which surprises you because of how much she's done to your people over the past year. Jinx is protecting Isha, one hand keeping the child away from the horrific sight and a Noxian warrior is posted near the man-beast, ready to fight.

Near you, you see Ambessa and her troops within the confines of the commune watching whom you could only theorize as the Kiramman girl, with sheer anger. Betrayal barely masked behind the ugliness of her rage.

The sight behind Vander was just as shocking, Viktor's home is broken. Bits of the stone and stained glass floating in the air as the sky darkens.

Your observation is cut short when Vander attacks the Noxian, beating the man to death with such a vicious ferocity you could only describe him as a monster.

That is when all hell breaks loose.

Ambessa delivers a war cry before she and her troops rush forward to Vander and the girls.

"Come on!" Silco screams, panicked and you follow him, heading straight into the fray.

"Go get the girls! I'll hold them back!"

"No!"

"Do as you're told Silco or there will be no more family to return to!"

Your body shakes in terror and your tears finally escape you freely, this could be the last time you see him. This could be the last time you see him, talk to him, feel him.

So you rush to Silco, your fear of losing him in war stronger than the fear of him leaving you. He reaches for you and your lips meet, the man wobbling back at the force of your embrace, breaths mingling and lips entertwining in a depserate kiss.

When you push back from him his good eye is wide open, the teal ocean cooling the raging blaze of your fears and the orange iris filling you with confident warmth.

"We'll talk later. Don't die out there, or I'll kill you."

And that's when you find yourself surrounded by Noxians, rushing into battle as Vander swipes madly and snarls, your attack not all too dissimilar from his. Desperation, anger, loss, all boiling into a dangerous culmination. Adrenalin stopping you from feeling the pain delivered to you by Ambessa's men as you cut and smash through them, doing as much damage as you can in the presence of a platoon.

Cut, cut, smash, cut, smash. You barely even think to defend yourself, preferring to act like a second distraction so your group could leave, escape, live.

Tears carve through the blood covering your face, your angry snarls nearly as terrifying as Vander's as you fight. In fear at those whom you care about dying, in fear at your dream of a free Zaun crumbling, in anger at how those people had stolen Vander's second chance at life.

Yet through the noise, all the screaming and fighting, you could hear Jinx's voice.

"Isha!"

Turning your head you see her reaching towards Vander, Violet holding her back, Isha under the beast with the blue haired girl's gun glowing bright blue.

Your lungs burn as you scream her name.

Your legs burn as you rush forward.

Your body burns from all the cuts and hits you've been dealt.

Your eyes burn as Silco calls out to you, his voice full of fear and panic, breaking in a way you've never heard before, even less from him.

But you don't stop.

As you push through hordes of Noxians, the weapon glows brighter and brighter, the girl holding it up towards Vander, her other hand shooting towards Jinx as she smiles at her.

And before the worst happens, you reach her.

You take the gun and you throw her away towards Silco, smiling tearfully as you see him scambling towards the child. And it's when you see him rush towards you next that everything goes black.

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