Chapter Text
In that bedroom, a chest had been found and it held a striking resemblance to the one Viktor had purchased during his first months in Piltover. It was this clunky thing the color of the richest tavern brown maple wood, and it was enveloped in these leather straps that looked as aged as the rest of the trunk. Aside from these golden clasps distinctly in the Talis house crest. Viktor had said time and time again that he would replace that hunk of wood, given that he spent most of his time tripping over its bulk, but every time Jayce visited, he found it still in its spot at the foot of the bed.
A strange look had crossed Viktor’s expression upon this realization. One that bordered on a perfect blend of surprise, grief, confusion, and joy, and it only seemed to strengthen when he ran his hand along the surface of it and stilled just before one of the crests.
“Clever coincidence?” Viktor questioned, although his tone held a note that showed he was not exactly certain of that himself. But with a sharp inhale of breath, his fingers unfastened the clasp that kept the chest sealed, then lifted the lid to reveal a plethora of memories.
Such as a photo taken during Viktor’s acceptance at the academy with him standing beside Heimerdinger, and a faint smile pulling at his lips, a dented button that he had stumbled upon but took a fancy to its unique detailing, an envelope addressed to him with the wax seal of House Talis remaining tuff and firm upon its surface, and a photo of them taken during their win at the Innovator’s Competition.
They were all cleverly sectioned upon the inner lid as if placed there by Viktor himself, and given the way his posture had stiffened to a stillness…this must not be any different than what the interior looked like in their realm.
“There are coincidences, and then there are deliberate intentions,” Viktor murmured, his hand tightening upon the lid. “But this…this was not my doing, nor do I feel the Arcane’s influence here. So how is this possible?”
Jayce was not aware of the full extent to Viktor’s powers, not outside what had been shown before their arrival here, nor did he know if they still were with him as strongly. But he had been in the Astral Plane long enough to know the feel of the Arcane’s capabilities glossing over his body, and the influence of magic in Runeterra. Neither of those two were present here, but at the same time, he didn’t feel the edge of danger from something that meant harm.
He approached Viktor and lowered himself to his side to cover his hand with his own. There was a faint tremor there, one he didn’t notice from the short distance that originally separated them, and his heart itched to quell it.
“Magic…is limitless. Every realm, every dimension has their own differentiation. It adapts,” Jayce’s thumb moved across Viktor’s knuckles as if trying to draw the anxiety into his own person. “Perhaps it…learned from us.”
“Isn’t that more concerning? If it can adapt to this…what else can it do? This is my exact chest, Jayce. These are my photos. My chest. My—Our memories.”
“Happier memories. Everything we have seen has been from better times. The rose…the smell of the lab…now this,” With his free hand, Jayce carefully removed the photo from the Innovator’s Competition and held it between them with a fond smile. Although it too held the beginnings of a tremor. “This is not necessarily a bad thing if it’s helping us.”
“That’s what we thought about the Hexcore as well, and we are far too aware of how that resulted.”
Jayce froze. Those words crashed through his chest like a hammer on brittle glass, and for a split second, he wasn’t in this strange room, wasn’t sitting beside Viktor and holding his trembling hand…he was back in Piltover, watching that impossible creation hum and breathe as though it had a will of its own. He saw the faint purple glow etching itself into Viktor’s veins, the way the man he loved swayed under the weight of its power, skin drawn taut over bones, body failing and yet clinging to the promise of more.
He saw what the Hexcore had done when it had been infused with Viktor to save his life. He saw the world in which the Arcane’s influence had torn it asunder, leaving no life but the mage he had idolized since his youth.
The Hexcore had been beautiful, yes, but it had devoured them, piece by piece, until their dream was nothing more than a whisper of words between two naive men.
He almost flinched away. Almost. To recoil back much like Viktor had when he saw the chest, but instead his gaze shifted back to Viktor. To the man in front of him, not the shadows of what had been. Viktor’s hand was still trembling under his, still so fragile and real, and Jayce forced the visions to the back of his skull. Not now. Not when Viktor was the one fighting to stay steady.
“We hadn’t been able to fully understand the Arcane magic. We—I was too blindsided by all that it couldn’t, that I didn’t see what it could do. Not all magic is bad,” Jayce swallowed hard, managed a small, quiet breath, and squeezed Viktor’s hand more firmly. The photo was lowered once more as he guided Viktor’s hand to his lips, where light kisses were placed upon each finger. “This magic gave us a second chance. It gave us a home, if only temporary until its owner returns, and it gave us comfort when we needed it most.”
Viktor’s expression remained guarded, but his eyes did shift towards Jayce rather than where they had been transfixed upon the chest.
“It did save you…”
“And you.”
Silence stretched between them for moments that stretched like hours, but when Viktor spoke again, it was with the moving his fingers across Jayce’s lips in a gentle yet somewhat teasing caress. Jayce welcomed it. He parted his lips and allowed the sensation to bleed away his own growing uncertainties of this new world, and listened as if Viktor was the prophet.
“Should we be partners once again, and figure out this magic together?”
“There’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.”
The tension visibly bled from Viktor’s form then, relaxing to something softer as he turned his attention towards what was in the chest rather than what was upon it. Inside, beneath a woven blanket holding the wear of years was a collection of clothing separated into two sections. On the left were drooping fabrics of fitting size to Viktor, and on the right were muted colors with elaborate detailing that were broad enough and pinched accurately that they were precisely to Jayce’s measurements.
“Does this place truly believe this is of my taste?” Viktor questioned with disdain as he lifted a flowing blouse with a back that parted elegantly in the back. With the way the emerald jewel strung itself from a golden chain down the center of it, it was certainly a beautiful piece, but apparently Viktor’s complaints were heard as the fabric unwound itself in his hands.
Both men startled at that, with Viktor dropping the elongated strand upon the clothing beneath, then watching with cautious wonder as it began to spin as if invisible hands were sewing it back to restoration. Black turned as white as a winter’s snow, and soon a tunic was crafted that was loose in the sleeves and shoulders, but narrow at the wrists. Then the emerald jewel winked, before it too melted into a pair of pants that were a dark, supple weave with narrow cuffs, held up by slender brown suspenders.
“Try it on?” Jayce prodded, his voice breathy with wonder.
Viktor hesitated for a moment, but then he was lifting the fabrics in hand and sleeping them upon his person. Jayce watched, because of course he did, his eyes soft with affection and glimmering with an almost naive sense of wonder. As Viktor was adjusting his sleeves, he caught Jayce’s stare and his lips upturned.
“Planning to continue wearing your birthday suit, Jayce? Not that I would mind such a view, but our possible host would likely not share my thoughts.”
“A-Ah. Yes, right.” With a clear to his throat, Jayce lifted the outfit that lay on the top of the right pile. Unlike Viktor’s who had replaced the elegant grandeur with something simpler, Jayce’s still held that edge. His blouse of the same white had gold leaf detailing around the cuffs, and his pants were not held up by suspenders, but rather by a tied length of layered blue ivory and blue fabric that caught the light whenever he moved.
Now it was Jayce’s turn to catch Viktor staring, and he used it as an opportunity to draw Viktor closer. “I do believe this is a situation where I should be telling you to take a picture. It would last longer.”
Viktor hummed. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you in these colors,” His fingers found the knot of Jayce’s sash and rested there. “It suits you.”
Warmth flooded Jayce then, spurred by the unexpected compliment and the close proximity. But before Jayce could summon words to bridge the silence that stretched afterwards, or draw Viktor into the kiss he was desiring, Viktor’s thumb brushed over the pulse in his wrist and continued as if he hadn’t even paused.
“Earlier…your mind was elsewhere. Where did you go?”
Leave it to Viktor to see through the walls, and to know when something was troubling his mind even when Jayce hadn’t put it to words.
“Just about— He cut himself short, unwilling to say it aloud again after he had just brought comfort. “—everything we lost. And what we might lose again.”
Viktor’s hand slid from Jayce’s wrist to his cheek, his cool fingers cupping the warmth there. “We have lost enough,” he said, his tone neither sharp nor dismissive, but certain. “As you have just told me, do not let ghosts of what was steal what is left to us now.”
Jayce leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping shut at the contact. “You always speak like that,” Jayce muttered, voice muffled. “Like you’ve already made peace with everything.”
“Perhaps I have only learned the futility of fighting inevitabilities,” There was a faint curve to Viktor’s lips, something halfway between wry amusement and ache. “But even inevitabilities can be lived with… if one remembers to eat.”
That earned a startled laugh from Jayce. “Eat?”
“Food has always been your first remedy,” Viktor said, his own laughter glimmering faintly beneath the words. “Whenever deadlines or council work were too stressful, you bring in those pastries, remember? You swore they helped you think.”
“I did think better on a full stomach,” Jayce replied with mock dignity. “You were the one who accused me of distraction every time I brought in a plate.”
“Because you offered me half and then forgot it existed the moment inspiration struck,” Viktor’s fingers fell away, his tone softening as he stepped toward the door. “If this place has gone so far as to replicate my chest, perhaps it will be generous enough to provide a meal as well.”
Jayce moved to follow him, something lighter returning to his chest where grief had sat moments before. “Do you think there’ll be anything edible?”
“Come. Let us see what other comforts it remembers.”
The air was faintly warm beyond the bedroom, much like a sunspot on a summer’s day, and from somewhere below drifted the scent of bread, honey, and something rich with spice. Jayce’s stomach answered before his words did.
Viktor glanced back over his shoulder. “It seems,” he said. “This place knows you too.”
Jayce only hummed in response, and drifted down the stairs in pursuit of the scent. Yet when they reached the ground floor where it was strongest, no bread or sweet welcomed them. Not even a flame licking at the stove’s burners showed itself, or a candle that could be mistaken as a delicacy. But there was a pantry built into the wall near the stove, and when Jayce creaked open the doors, it revealed a surprising bounty.
Jars of dried herbs, roots, meats, and spices, bundles of preserved fruits wrapped in linen, unlabeled tins filled with grains and flours of various impossible colors lined the shelves, and above were mushrooms and garlic strung up to dry.
Jayce wrinkled his nose at the jar with crimson seed like things as he fought against the urge to sneeze. It burned, but it also held a sweet scent to it that made him wonder. “No idea what this is…but it smells as if paprika and cinnamon had a baby.”
Viktor chuckled from where he stood beside Jayce examining one of the mystery herbs. “Dangerous combination.”
“I’m making it work.” He rolled up his sleeves and began pulling various ingredients onto the counter. He moved with the surety of someone well versed in the rhythm of cooking, even without knowing what these ingredients may be. But a taste test here, and a comparison to familiar tastes in Runeterra guided him along, until he was combining them in a giant soup pot that had suddenly appeared when both their backs were turned.
It should’ve surprised them, but given everything else that had occurred, they merely blinked and carried on.
At first Jayce was silent, the only sounds coming from the gradually bubbling pot upon the stove, the lick of flames, and the soft tingle of windchimes from somewhere outdoors. But when Viktor’s arms wrapped around his waist to lean against him, a low, melodic hum rumbled in his throat. It wasn’t anything peculiar, just a merry tune that gradually softened to a lullaby that his mother often sang to him whenever they were partnering in the kitchen.
“After we eat,” Jayce murmured, leaning back just the smallest fraction as he added a pinch of spice to the pot. “We should look around. The field, the woods, maybe even beyond that ridge. Who knows what lies before us.”
“Mm…I am curious about those, what’s the word…puffs in the sky. They have a striking resemblance to Porofessor. I wonder if they are as durable.”
At those words, Jayce’s entire body shook with the full weight of his laughter. “Are you wanting to test that with another Hexclaw beam?”
“That was merely an accident. I wouldn’t dare.”
The meal has been something both sweet and savory, and paired with a tea that tasted faintly of rosemary. Although small in serving, it had been as filling as if granted a feast meant for a king, and brought a rejuvenated surge of energy to their tired bones.
As if knowing they had eaten their fill, their dishes rose into the air, and with an elaborate swirl, all traces of their food disappeared, and the plates returned to their places within the cupboards.
“It seems your cooking has improved,” Viktor murmured, his voice soft with both teasing and genuine awe. “Though I do not recall you including levitation in the recipe.”
Jayce opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short when his spoon lifted neatly from the table. It hovered there for a moment with a slight tilt, reminding Jayce of a small creature inclining its head in curiosity, then like the other dishes, it spun once…twice…then it neatly stacked itself in one of the open silverware drawers.
Jayce blinked, as half a laugh stuck in his throat. “What do you mean? It was definitely part of the recipe.”
Viktor tilted his head, watching the performance with a faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps the cottage is pleased with our appreciation. A… house spirit, maybe?”
“Or it just doesn’t like mess.” Jayce said, still staring as the cupboard doors shut with a polite click.
“Then we are kindred souls,” Viktor said dryly, earning a snort from Jayce.
They sat in the gentle quiet that followed, the scent of herbs and warm bread still hanging in the air. Outside, the light through the window had shifted. That strange, shimmering glow of a world not quite bound by their old rules spilled across the wooden floor, and pooled near Viktor’s chair like liquid amber.
Jayce pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand toward him. “Ready to see what else this place can do?”
Viktor looked at the offered hand, then at Jayce’s face. He hesitated only a heartbeat before placing his palm against his. Jayce’s grip was sure, solid, grounding against the strangeness of everything else.
“Together, then.” Viktor said.
“Always.” Jayce answered, a smile flickering in his voice.
Their fingers intertwined as they stepped out into the shimmering air beyond the cottage, where the trees glowed faintly at their edges and the world itself seemed to hold its breath. As if waiting to be discovered.
Around them, the world pulsed with impossible life.
The field surrounding the cottage changed again, but instead of being those white blooms that changed between scarlet and emerald when touched, they were now shifting lilac, soft mint, and an iridescent silver with each pass of the breeze. And upon them now were these tiny specs that shimmered like stars, and only grew brighter with each disturbance.
The path that lay within this sea of beauty was not a path at all, but merely a suggestion. The flowers bent underfoot in swirling trails to form a temporary road that only solidified when stepped upon, and returned to its previous state once they had made a good enough distance away. These led them to a grove of glowing trees where the bark looked like polished opal, and the leaves shone with bioluminescence.
Urged by the alien beauty of it, Jayce trailed his free hand along one of the trunks, and it rippled at his touch.
“What does it feel like?”
“Like…water, strangely enough,” Jayce’s eyes flicked up the length of it, looking between the leaves as if he would find something there. “It doesn’t feel solid, but it also doesn’t quite feel like liquid yet. I feel like my hand should be wet, but it’s not.”
Viktor’s hand joined Jayce’s upon the bark, then immediately recoiled. “It’s freezing!”
Freezing? How?
“What do you mean? It doesn’t feel any different than anything else we’ve touched.”
“Jayce, it felt as if I had decided to lift an ice cube with my bare hands.”
Jayce’s brows furrowed as he finally dropped his hand from the trunk, then rubbed it absently against his thigh, as though to dispel a chill that wasn’t truly there. Viktor, meanwhile, lingered a moment longer, studying the tree’s opalescent bark. Beneath the shimmer, veins of pale light pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat, or the breathing of some vast, slumbering thing.
“Strange,” Viktor murmured. “It reacts differently to us both.”
“More magic.”
They moved on, following the ghost of the path as it wound deeper into the grove. The trees grew taller here, their trunks twisting together in slow spirals that glittered like glass beneath moonlight. Every so often, the ground shuddered softly, and petals—bright as tiny lanterns—drifted down in silence.
Jayce slowed his steps. “Do you hear that?”
A faint hum threaded through the forest. It reminded him of water running over stone, though it was too rhythmic, too deliberate to be ordinary.
Viktor tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he listened. “Water. There must be a stream nearby.”
They pressed further on until they came upon a stream, or what they thought was a stream. It wound between trees as a ribbon, but the water flowed upwards in defiance of gravity. They stared at their reflections only to find that it didn’t quite move when they did. Their mirrored selves blinked too slowly, their movements were delayed, as if it was merely casting a replay of what had already been done.
It was unsettling, but harmless. Much like the creature that leapt across their feet from the underbrush.
It looked like a frog at first, a hefty, round creature with bright eyes, and flesh a deep blue. But when it leapt into the air and landed for the second time, its flesh peeled away to reveal these furrowed wings that were delicate and veined like stained glass. As it took off into the sky with a trail of golden dust, it revealed these floating islands that had certainly not been there upon their arrival, and each one harbored a grove of trees upon its underside.
The magic here was wild and unpredictable, and as the breeze swirled around them a voice settled over them.
Did they even escape the rune?