Chapter Text
It was a burst of light that shattered the world. A vibrant, stunning fracture that tore through the dormant sky in a cacophony of brightness and sound. Jayce had barely enough time to brace himself before the ground met him like an angered fist, knocking the wind from his lungs and every thought from his head.
For a moment he could only lay there. His limbs sprawled gracelessly across a hardened cushion of moss and dirt, while his lungs heaved with the effort to draw in air. Although that simple effort felt as if he was inhaling razor blades, and it did little to help his swimming head.
Jayce groaned, reaching upwards to clutch at his head as if that gesture would still be enough to help him focus, but all it did was make the weight feel like it had burrowed into the confinements of his skull.
He had always been an adventurous person, especially in the younger years of his youth, and such traits led to plenty of injuries, falls, and disasters. But although he had once fallen from a tree and shattered the bones in his arm, he had never fallen far enough to feel quite like this.
A few minutes passed, or was it hours? It was difficult to tell while his eyes were so tightly shut and his body was as immobile as a marionette with its strings cut. But when they cracked open the smallest fraction, it wasn’t to the vibrant azure of Piltover’s sunlit days, or even the vast ink and gold tapestry of the astral plane…it was to something stranger and softer.
It was a sky painted with pastel hues of apricot orange, rose-petal pink, and sunwashed yellow, but no clouds or sun clung to the sherbet display. Instead there was a light source that appeared to shine from behind it all like a lamp through fabric, and these floating orbs that much resembled oversized furred firelights.
Jayce sat upright with a start, an action he much regretted when he had no choice but to curl into himself for a moment so his vision would stop attempting to blink away from him. It was in this position that he felt a softness land upon his knee, and when he glanced between his folded arms, he saw that one of the strange puffballs had found a placement there.
There was no face, there wasn’t even what one would consider a body either, it was simply a ball of cotton that held a warm glow like the beloved firelights around his childhood home. But regardless of the missing features, it still seemed to study him, questioning his arrival as much as Jayce did himself.
“What…are you?”
His fingers inched towards the strange creature expecting softness, but what he found felt like he had stuck his hand inside an electric vat and had him jerking his hand away so quickly, it startled the creature into fluttering away towards its brethren in the sky.
It left a tingle along the flesh of his hand, one that he shook with bewilderment as he took in the extent of the surrounding area.
It was like the outskirts of Piltover—full of plantlife and fresh breeze—but at the same time it was too lovely, too perfect, and too gentle in ways that made his instincts crawl.
It was like the oasis that was conjured into Jayce’s mind while he was suspended in the neverending void of the astral plane, a perfect place of Viktor’s creation to lessen the pain of what was transpiring around him due to the rune’s magic collapsing.
Viktor.
The rune.
Jayce’s head swung towards the side, expecting—hoping—to see that familiar silhouette beside him, just as lost and confused as himself. But there was no Viktor, there wasn’t even an indent among the grass and swaying flowers to show that another had even been beside him.
His stomach twisted painfully with dread.
“No…no, no, no—” The words were slurred in their desperation, as offkilter as his footing when he pushed himself to his feet only to wobble and collapse again. Although a stone cut into his knee from impact, the pain didn’t register as he rose again with quickening breath. “Viktor?!”
Silence.
He had held on, he was certain of it. Even when the pain was enough to grit his teeth, and clever mental illusions just felt like a bandage, even when it felt like the weight of a hurricane was trying to force them apart. He had kept Viktor in his arms, ready to face whatever was in store for them, even if that meant their demise.
But had that been an illusion too?
Jayce’s chest squeezed as horror settled into the depths. He remembered the first lick of pain where their arms were joined in embrace. It felt like a knife was beginning its descent across his flesh, but Viktor attempted to comfort it through a slow drag of his thumb across his arm. And while it did provide comfort, there was no stopping the tremble from overtaking his form as that pain spread further across his body.
It was then that his mind had been dragged into this picturesque world, where warm light covered his body like a blanket, and he lay tangled together with Viktor tucked beneath his chin. It was peaceful and enough to take his mind away from what was actually happening.
Like Viktor had intended.
But if Viktor wasn’t here…
At some point during his mental spiral, Jayce’s legs had taken off running. To where he wasn’t certain, the motion just felt as automatic as a survival instinct. He had to find Viktor, he had to undo whatever had separated them, because he refused to believe that it was just him who landed upon this foreign world.
The glade he landed upon was full of soft grass that released miniscule stars when brushed, and those very attributes swirled around him in a magical display as he tore through it into the nearby woods. Woods that held the illusion of those within grasslands in Runeterra from the outskirts, but when his feet passed the threshold, it fell away like melted snow.
The welcoming maple extended its bark until it towered above the skyline, and said bark became so slender and pale that they were almost translucent. It reminded him of a jewel found in the mines, even more so when the leaves that fell by his feet shimmered with the unnatural hues of blue, lavender, and iridescent green.
His pace sent him through a pile of these leaves, the plants crushing beneath each footstep with a feeling like he was stepping upon shallow puddles without the wetness. But what was stranger yet was the fact that afterwards, the plants audibly shifted around him.
They released this sound that could only be compared to a sigh before a song, all airy and whimsical in a way they shouldn’t. The air itself even warmed, wrapping around his skin like a blanket on a cold winter day, but while both should’ve been fascinating and comforting…it only fueled his unease.
“Viktor!” He yelled again, his throat dry. “Answer me!”
But only the star-like sparkles answered, swirling upwards as if in laughter then fading into the honey colored light.
What if Viktor hadn’t made it? What if the Arcane was crueler in its punishment towards him, and Viktor had cast the illusion upon Jayce’s mind to spare him that visual? Now he was trapped…or disassembled…that was why Jayce had been by his lonesome. He had been expelled from the rune alone, while Viktor…Viktor—
He lost his footing against an uprooted vine of a tree, sending him toppling outside the rings of the woods, while a fresh wave of pain surged from where his knees and elbows connected with the harsh ground. He had to be bleeding, it would explain the wet sensation from where his knees were still pressed down harshly, but he made no move to stand upright.
His breaths were coming out too fast for that. Each one was more labored than the last, and he felt his throat tightening with the oncoming bout of barely restrained tears.
He wouldn’t have let go, he didn’t…so why? Why was he here when Viktor was not? Why was he without repercussions? If Viktor was to suffer for the consequences of their actions, why was he not alongside him in that vast expanse of nothingness? Why were his lungs still breathing?
“Jayce!”
A sob finally broke through its restrictions, this awful, gut wrenching sound full of the weight of his grief. It was a sound of loss, it was a sound that blocked out any other sounds aside from it, and the rushing of blood to his ears.
“Jayce, where are you?!”
Jayce’s head whipped upright. That voice—frantic as it was—was unmistakable, but from where?
Before him, on the outskirts of the woodlands where he fell, was a breathtaking expanse of white. It was a limitless field of delicate flowers with petals that glistened like fresh snow. They swayed in the passing breeze, bringing with a fragrance that reminded him all too much of spring days weaving blossoms into crowns with his mother.
And there, in the center of them all was a lone cottage wreathed in a low-lying haze of light. From the distance it was impossible to make out details aside from the soft cream colored bricks, and wispy smoke that filtered from the chimney. Could the voice have come from inside?
But no…it was too far and the voice would've been muffled by the interior.
It must’ve been his imagination. His mind taking pleasure in his misfortune and taunting him with it, or some creature here mimicking internal thoughts.
“Miláček! Please…” The last word held such a wounded tone to it that there was no possibility that it was something of his mind or world creation. It was Viktor, undeniably so, but where was he?
“Viktor!”
“Jayce?”
Every nerve in his body burned as if they were on the verge of being engulfed in flames, and his throat was pinched so tight that the very effort of swallowing proved to be difficult, but yet he still willed strength into his limbs in order to push himself upright.
Viktor sounded as if he was before him, which meant he was somewhere within the vastness of the flower field. So while it still might be his mind playing tricks on him, he had to at least try looking.
“Viktor!” His voice rang as he staggered to his feet with a heaving chest. His knees protested—still aching from the fall and injuries prior to the transportation—but they were the least of his concerns.
“Where are you? Jayce!”
Only one step taken into the meadow was enough to see the figure upon the opposing side. One that had originally been hidden by some low lying branches, but now could be seen standing among the blooms with the same look of desperation with their posture. There was a good distance between them and where Jayce shakily stood, but there was no mistaking who they were to Jayce.
It was Viktor.
Crushing relief became a power source that flooded through his every nerve, and it was what sent his feet tearing through the softness of the meadow with renewed energy that had fled from him only minutes prior. Every step drew him closer, and every step brought a wondrous shift of color. For each flower he brushed against, transformed into a vibrant green, a stark contrast to their original innocent white.
At first Viktor didn’t notice him, his head angling in search while locks of hair flickered across his face, but it was the changing of the blossoms—the colors gradually catching the light of sun—and the fierce call of his name that alerted him of Jayce’s presence.
And when it did…he held no hesitation.
Much like Jayce only moments prior, Viktor surged forward like he was being pursued by something deadly, and although it was an uneven gait that nearly had him tumbling over hidden disturbances below the flowers, he never stopped running. Bringing with a burning trail of scarlet as the flowers shifted color beneath his every touch.
He was alive. Viktor was alive. He was alive, and well, and able to run, and—
Those thoughts lay on repeat in his mind as their bodies collided with enough force that their breath were momentarily stolen from their lungs, and their footing wobbled enough that they threatened to collapse on the very soil they tore across. But it was their tightening grips upon one another—all desperation and starvation and trembling hands that wandered—that kept them upright.
“Viktor—” Jayce’s voice cracked, the raw sound bordering on a sob as he crushed Viktor against his chest. “Viktor—oh, Janna…You’re alive–”
Viktor’s fingers were no less bruising from where they pressed against Jayce’s shoulders, holding onto him like he was still terrified that this whole ordeal wasn’t real. “Jayce,” He gasped, his voice holding a tremor that Jayce had never heard from him before. “You’re—You’re here. I thought—I'm so sorry. Jayce, I'm so—”
He wasn’t given the opportunity to finish before his words were swallowed by the crushing weight of Jayce’s lips against his own.
It was far from soft and tender—a kiss that would’ve been stolen beneath the flickering lights of a late night at the lab, or in the hallways outside of the council chambers—it was shattering in the ways that made sense. With how their teeth clacked, and their lips bordered on bruising, it was as if they were attempting to pour everything they’d been through into the action.
Every year of longing. Every month of separation. Every misunderstanding. Every regret. Every mistake. Every ounce of the love they had suppressed whether intentionally or not over the years.
“We’re alive,” Was whispered against Viktor’s lips, his own parted as if to swallow the breaths that passed between them. “We’re alive.”
Viktor released a sound similar to a broken laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe the fact himself. “You’re here.”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Jayce’s words were scarcely above a whisper as he brushed Viktor’s hair from his face with one hand, and used the other to cradle his cheek. He moved forward as if to kiss him again, but this one lacked the intensity of the previous. It was gentle as he pressed a kiss to Viktor’s lips, then to his cheek, then the bridge of his nose, then his temple. “I’m not leaving.”
The kisses rained across Viktor’s face like worship, each one bringing a genuine smile or laugh that Jayce drank up eagerly. “I held on,” He breathed between them. “I tried so hard—I thought I lost you—When the illusion happened, I thought—”
“I know,” Viktor’s voice broke through Jayce’s rambling, just before he covered Jayce’s hand with his own upon his cheek. “I wouldn’t have let you go. Not even for a moment.”
They had made it. To where, Jayce couldn’t be certain, but it certainly was not in Runeterra. Magic was bountiful across the lands with the various mages, but never in his studies was magic of this sort around. At least, the magic of which he had seen so far.
Viktor’s hair was shorter than it had been over the span of their separation, having returned to the cropped style he had adorned when they first met. But unlike then, it now held these stunning veins of silver throughout the threshes, and Jayce was willing to bet that they would hold some sort of shine in the darker light.
Even his face bore new edges, with the heart of it all being the star shaped scar in the center of his forehead. While puckered and raw, it still was delicate in its formation, despite it being a cruel echo of the Herald’s mask he had once worn against his will. That memory brought a painful twist in his heart. A pain that worsened when he took in the left side of Viktor’s face.
The skin there bore a patch of damage that resembled a burn at first, if one was to overlook the galactic texture and color to it. With the way it glimmered once exposed to the lighting above, it looked as if stardust had frozen beneath scar tissue, while also maintaining a reminder of the Arcane corruption. Veins of color moved beneath the skin—violet, and blue, and green—and the eye set into that side was no longer the warm gold Jayce knew, but a soft, almost luminous silver.
The relief that had flooded through Jayce’s system like a tidal wave settled as frigid grief and guilt took root. So much about this outcome could’ve changed if only he had been more observant and willing to follow through with his promise to destroy the Hexcore. Because now, even though life continued to bless them and they were with one another again, Viktor was still suffering from Jayce’s past decisions.
Jayce brushed his fingers across the starlit scar, but Viktor didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned into the touch and it only fueled Jayce’s guilt. “I’m so sorry. I should have—if I’d just—”
“No,” Viktor interrupted, his fingers curling around Jayce’s so he could guide their joined hands to his lips. “I’m still here because of you. It’s all because of you.”
‘But a new cure could've been found. The Hexcore could’ve been destroyed, and your life would’ve still been spent progressing with your research in Piltover, or Zaun, or wherever it was you wish to travel. We could’ve still been helping people.’
“Jayce,” Viktor’s voice drew Jayce out of his downward spiral like a lifeline, and when his eyes opened, he saw that not even an ounce of space separated them. “I’m alive because of you. I continue to breathe his air with you, because of you. I stand here with you in my arms because of what you have done. My Jayce. My beautiful, strong, brave Jayce. It’s all in the past now, we cannot change it, but we can move forward from it.”
Those words felt like a soft blanket on a dreary, rainy day, and it warmed him just the same. Viktor was right, there was no changing the past, no matter how painful it may be. What had been done was done, and the only way forward now was to use it as a learning curve and to not let this new opportunity go to waste.
“Now I don’t know about you,” Viktor continued, running his thumb along Jayce’s knuckles. “But I feel as if we’re a bit…eh…exposed. Should we see if our other inhabitants have clothing to spare? What a couple of unexpected visitors we shall be.”
Jayce blinked. “What?” But then he looked down, and he found that no fabrics clung to their persons. They were naked. Completely, inconveniently naked. A laugh bubbled to the surface—half surprise and half disbelief—as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Ah, case in point.”
A chuckle rumbled in the depths of Viktor’s throat as he splayed a hand across Jayce’s chest, right above a pair of matching scars, and where his heart beat steadily. Like Viktor, Jayce’s chest now bore twin constellations that were as radiant as the stars above. Before their transmigration here, these scars were raised bumps that bore no difference to others aside from location, but now they looked as if a constellation had been plucked from the sky and embedded in their flesh.
Viktor’s thumb ran along the seam of one, and it seemed as if the marks flashed for a moment in response before settling back to the faint glow. “Though I would not say this view is unwanted.”
Those words earned a halfhearted bat of the hand from Jayce before they turned towards the cottage that lay nestled among the flowers just a few feet away. Even from a distance it was a welcoming little thing, with paint the color of warm butter and a roof the color of milk chocolate.
When they neared—hand in hand—they found that like the realm in which it nestled, it too was quite peculiar. The doorknob was this winding metal that looked like an upwards waterfall, and in between the shining brass were these miniscule jewels that shone in every color imaginable. Then the windows—which were on either sides of the cottage and on the upper section of the door—were these stunning stained glass pieces that Jayce swore changed designs.
When they were approaching, it looked like a white hare mid-leap above a rainbow, but now it was a willow with firelights along each drooping branch.
“Peculiar.” Viktor muttered as he raised a hand to rap against the door. The sound echoed on the opposite side, as Jayce maneuvered his body to at least provide himself some modesty when the homeowner opened it. But after a few moments, there was still silence.
Jayce tried again, and like before, the sound of the knocking was heard on the opposite side before silence greeted them once more. No shuffle of footsteps, no shifting shadow against glass, not even a cough or inhale of breath outside of their own.
“Maybe they’re out?” Jayce suggested, extending sideways with their hands still joined to look through the side window. It was difficult to see inside, even when cupping his eyes, but it did look as if it was empty.
Or the person was just indisposed in another room.
“Perhaps.” Releasing Jayce’s hand for a moment, Viktor tried jiggling the handle of the door, an action that caught Jayce’s attention immediately.
“Viktor,” Despite the volume he had been previously using, and their apparent solitude Jayce’s voice dropped to a near whisper as he returned to Viktor’s side. “We can’t just..walk in.”
With the twist of his wrist, the door opened before them, bringing with the whiff of spices, wax, and parchment.
“My mistake.” Although the words were meant to be remorseful, the mischievous flash in his eyes as he stepped inside was anything but.
For a moment Jayce lingered outside, torn between the act of breaking and entering, and desperately wanting to clothe himself somehow. But after a call of his name, his mind was made up as he entered alongside Viktor and had his breath stolen.
The inside looked like it had just stepped off the pages of some elaborate fantasy tale. Potted plants of various greenery lined the windowsills and dangled from the rafters, while some vines wound around carved wooden beams. Shelves lined the walls, some of which were overflowing with stacks of books, while others held jars of glittering ingredients, bundles of dried herbs, and stones with a faint glow that pulsed with unseen magic.
Each wooden panel held a deliberately etched engraving—various plants and creatures that were unlike those they have seen in Runeterra—and just off to the side was a grand fireplace with a fire that crackled gently. A round table stood just a little bit off from that, with a pair of mitch-matched plates and saucers set for two above delicate doilies.
Both Jayce and Viktor lingered by said table for a few breaths more, before their feet led them up a spiral staircase with a railing that was made to look like a feline’s tail. From the outside the cottage only appeared to be one floor, but as they ascended upwards, they became as endless as the new smells.
The second floor smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and could only be considered as a study of some sort. The third floor smelled of sage and rosemary, and was a grand library with floor to ceiling bookshelves of colorful leatherbound books. Then the fourth was a bedroom, with a smell that was distinctly like that of their lab back in Piltover.
Even down to the slight tang of burning metal that they could never quite scrub free of, despite how much incense was lit or structures cleaned.
There even was the exact replica of the metal rose Jayce had hand crafted for Viktor as a celebratory gift, turned confession. After their breakthrough with the Hex Gates, Jayce had wanted to do something special for the one person who truly believed in him and made this happen. So that night he had spent it hammering in the forge to create the delicate metal blossom of beauty, which unintentionally came with a rushed declaration of his admiration towards Viktor.
He was just telling him how much he admired his dedication and intelligence, when a pair of lips covered his own and swallowed his tangent easily.
It was a symbol of their love, and it was right there on the nightstand beside the lone bed.
The door swung behind them with a soft click as the light shifted from a kaleidoscope of colors to a warm golden glow. It was like the arms of a spell, entrapping them in a loving embrace as the story was just beginning.