Chapter Text
Skin, soft and pliant beneath your hands, stretched over sharp bones, softening their jut. A light woodsy cologne, so familiar and yet you hadn’t smelled it in, what, weeks? How long had it been since you’d been in Piltover? Viktor’s scent still held a lingering smell of pine, but nowhere as deep and rich as it had. But…why were you smelling it now?
Eyes fluttering open under the early morning rays streaming through the window, you found your vision focusing on porcelain swaths of pale flesh beneath a familiar leather and metal back brace, rising and falling in serene rest.
Jolting upright, you wiped the sleep from your eyes. Focusing on his face, your shoulders came down from their hitched spot at your neck, though only slightly. Viktor - face thin and pale but unmistakably him - roused from sleep by your sudden movement, blinked languidly up at you. His brow furrowed, groggy and confused.
“Milá?” he croaked, reaching for you with hands that should have been a steely grey, purple light sifting through the cracks.
You didn’t mean to flinch, but it was all so confusing. This wasn’t your Viktor, but it was still Viktor, wasn’t it? He smelled, felt, and looked like he used to, every detail correct down to the smallest freckle on his shoulder. But why had he changed, and why did he not seem to notice?
He pulled back, propping himself up on an elbow, bright amber eyes searching yours.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—“ You pursed your lips, exhaling out of your nose in a quick burst.
“You’re staring,” he said pointedly.
You narrowed your eyes, irritation pulling at the sides of your mouth. “You’re…unevolved?”
He scoffed, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. “Ouch.”
Rolling your eyes, you sat back on your heels. “De-evolved? No, that’s not any better.” You tapped your chin, piecing together a better answer. “You look like how you were before I tried to heal you with the Hexcore. I think.” It was more than just your vision, hearing and sense of smell telling you this was Viktor, it was deeper, more intrinsic than that. His…essence swirled and flowed beneath his skin, calm and gentle but persistent, like the rising tide. With a tentative hand, you reached for him, placing your hand delicately on his chest. Smooth and warm to the touch, him and yet not him.
He hummed contemplatively, allowing you to slowly roam across his chest. The blankets pooled around his waist, and you wondered what you’d find should you lift it. But mid-hallucination - if that’s what this was - was likely not the best time to be testing that thought.
“I appear the same to me,” he offered, flipping his hand over as he examined it.
Any hopes you had that Viktor had been miraculously healed and given his old body back, free from the hold of the Hexcore, were thoroughly dashed. You fought to keep your disappointment in check - not because his physical appearance had any bearing on how much you adored him, but because you still didn’t know the depths of the Hexcore’s influence. And you worried, as you always did.
“It’s still quite early,” he said after you pulled your hand back, sitting on your ankles. “We have time to rest, should you still wish to.”
Looking to the window, you registered the beginnings of birds chirping outside, the slow wake of the commune as those tending to the fields began their work. The sunlight, tinged orange from when it had risen, provided a comforting glow to the room.
You turned back to Viktor, ready to respond, but the words died on your lips. In the span of a heartbeat, his form had shifted. Gone was the soft, warm flesh you'd touched moments ago. In its place, sleek metallic grooves gleamed in the early morning light, pulsing with a faint purple glow, Hexcore energy thrumming beneath the surface.
With a soft smile, you said, “Back to normal.” You rapped on his chest with a closed fist, solid beneath your knuckles.
With a sleepy half-smile, he gathered you into his arms. The cool metal of his chest pressed against your cheek. It was familiar, comforting in its own way. His arms encircled you, one hand splayed across your back while the other cradled your head, fingers tangling in your hair.
Time seemed to slow as you lay there, wrapped in his embrace. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble. You traced lazy patterns on his chest, following the intricate lines and seams of his mechanical body. Viktor's thumb stroked small circles on your arm, the motion so gentle you might not have noticed if not for the slight coolness of his metal finger against your skin.
Sunlight crept across the room as morning progressed, tinting everything in a warm, golden hue. The chirping of birds grew louder, accompanied by the distant sounds of the commune coming to life. You'd have to get up soon, face the day and its challenges, but for now, you allowed yourself to simply be.
With the breaking of the day, you rose and your mind crumbled.
Whatever the Hextech surge had done to you hadn’t dissipated over the course of your rest. When you went out into the crowded commune, away from the safe haven that was your room with Viktor, you froze in your tracks. The patients, once familiar faces, now bore metallic visages. Their skin gleamed with an unnatural sheen, eyes empty of life. Limbs whirred and clicked as they moved, servos humming beneath synthetic flesh. You blinked hard, rubbing your eyes, willing the illusion to fade. For a moment, it did - human features flickered back into view, only to be consumed once more by cold, robotic masks.
A whimper caught in your throat as you tried to act normal, to move through the crowd without betraying your rising panic. It wasn’t real, you had established this. But with each step, the feeling of being watched intensified. You glanced over your shoulder, expecting to see some looming mechanical monstrosity, only to find empty air. Still, the sensation persisted - a presence just out of sight, always lurking at the edge of your vision.
Viktor's hand on your shoulder made you jump. "Milá? What's wrong?" His voice was laced with concern, narrowed eyes searching your face.
You forced a smile, but it felt brittle on your lips. "Nothing, I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."
He didn't seem convinced, his a crease forming between his brows as he studied you. Before he could press further, Charlotte approached, her expression calm - blessedly not a robot like most others you could see - but you could sense the worry and understanding that radiated off her.
"Herald, you're needed for some new arrivals, they’re in bad shape," she said, then turned to you. "Mila, why don't you come with me? Some fresh air might do you good."
Gratitude washed over you as Charlotte led you away from the crowded commune center and you said a quick goodbye to Viktor - a kiss pressed to his cool cheek. With each step towards the outskirts, the incessant buzzing in your head - a maddening drone you hadn't even realized was there - began to fade into the background. The robotic visions gave way to the peaceful greens and earthy browns of the surrounding fields.
You took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave your body. Charlotte squeezed your hand gently, a silent gesture of support. As you reached the edge of the commune, the last remnants of the hallucinations dissipated, leaving you feeling drained but relieved.
For now, at least, you could breathe easy. But lurking in the back of your mind was a nagging fear; how long would this respite last? And what awaited you when you inevitably had to return?
“I’m sorry you’ve been wrapped up in my mess.” Rubbing the back of your neck, you kicked at the pebbles that lined the path.
Charlotte scoffed, brushing you off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be, dear. A walk is exactly what I needed.”
You risked a glance at her, and to your immense relief, her face remained unchanged - human and full of motherly kindness. “You don’t have to say that.”
She tilted her head to the side. “No, I don’t,” she said with a grin. Warmth spread through your limbs, and you let it drop, following her lead as she sat on an outcropping of flattened rocks.
The feeling of being watched prickled at the base of your neck and you rolled your shoulders like you could slough it off your back.
“What did you do before this?” Your leg bounced, rapid and anxious, and you resisted the urge to whirl around.
There was nothing there, you were safe.
“I was a mother,” Charlotte’s smile met her dark eyes, but the curve of her brow was weighed down by a sorrow so deeply entrenched it would never be healed. Even Viktor had his limits.
What could you say to something like that? ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ wouldn’t cut it, nor would it make much sense as a response to her statement. Charlotte was a strong woman, that much you’d been able to tell upon your first meeting, she would only balk if she saw pity.
Keeping your face carefully blank, you fiddled with your hands in your lap. “Do you ever stop being a mother?”
Charlotte snorted and shook her head, her silvery white hair swishing along her shoulders. “No, you don’t.” She paused, eyeing you like she was searching for a lie. “You remind me of my eldest daughter, in a way.”
“Oh,” you blinked, a million questions rising to your tongue - what was she like, did you look like her or act like her, what happened to her, did she live or just fade away? “I’m sorry.”
Crap. Hadn’t you just decided that wasn’t the thing to say?
Charlotte placed her hand on your arm, squeezing lightly. “Don’t be. It’s good to see her again.”
The sparks, ever-present, if not always seen, travelled down your arm, ghosting up and over until they swirled around Charlotte’s shoulders. The woman’s eyes widened as she watched in pure fascination. The spark cheered their approval, and with a unified glow, scattered. Some landed in her hair or danced along her limbs, others returned to you, disappearing into your clothes.
“Sorry, they don’t exactly listen or have an understanding of personal boundaries.” You made a swipe for one at the crown of Charlotte’s head, but with evasive the manoeuvres of a professional athlete, it dodged you with a sharp squeal.
“No need to worry about them,” Charlotte said, bringing one up to her face and giggling as it tickled her nose. “They’re cute. But…what are they?”
You shrugged, blowing on one as it floated past your mouth. “No idea, they just showed up one day and refused to leave. Viktor thinks they’re a part of me, but I’m not entirely convinced.”
“Whatever they are, they sure like you.”
If they liked you then why did they spend the majority of their time irritating you? “What makes you say that?”
“That’s how kids are when they trust you. Always pushing your buttons, testing your limits. They know that no matter what they do, you’ll never throw them out in the cold.” Charlotte’s expression softened as she spoke, her eyes distant and unfocused, following memories of a happier time.
“Your daughter, what was her name?” you asked, tentative and careful in case you were overstepping.
But Charlotte met you with the brightest smile you’d ever seen stretch across her face. “Elowen.”
“That’s a beautiful name.” You returned her smile, though only half as bright.
Charlotte sighed wistfully as she spoke, sweet and gentle like the flutter of butterfly wings. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” she said. “Sometimes I still don’t know how I was able to keep going without her, but who else would carry her memory? It was only the two of us for so long.”
Given that you’d almost lost your mind and taken half of Runeterra with you when you’d been faced with Viktor’s imminent death, you had to commend Charlotte for her strength.
“Would you…” Hesitating, you swallowed down your worry. Charlotte hadn’t shown any signs of being against speaking about her daughter. Everyone mourns differently. Some prefer to bury their feelings, pretend like it didn’t happen, and others - like Charlotte, it would seem - find solace in reminiscing and keeping their loved one’s memories alive. “I’d love to hear more, if you’d like to talk about her.”
Charlotte's eyes lit up, and you were relieved that you had assessed her correctly. "Oh, where to begin?" She leaned back, her gaze drifting to the horizon as if she could see her memories painted across the sky. "Elowen was…vibrant. Full of life and laughter. She had this uncanny ability to find joy in the smallest things."
As Charlotte spoke, you felt yourself relaxing, the prickling sensation at the back of your neck fading away. The older woman's words painted a vivid picture, and you found yourself drawn into the story.
"I remember this one time, during a terrible storm," Charlotte continued, her hands gesturing animatedly. "The rain was coming down in sheets, thunder shaking the very foundations of our home. Most children would have been terrified, but not my Elowen. She dragged me outside, splashing in puddles and twirling in the downpour. 'Look, Mama!' she'd shout, her face turned up to the sky. 'The clouds are crying, but they're dancing too!'"
You chuckled, imagining a small girl with Charlotte's kind eyes, soaked to the bone and grinning from ear to ear.
"She had a way with plants, too," Charlotte said, her voice warm with pride. "We had a few on our windowsills. She'd spend hours there, talking to the flowers as if they were her closest friends. And you know what? They seemed to listen. I swear, under her care, even the most stubborn seeds would bloom. Probably had something to do with her stubborn streak rubbing off on them. If that girl didn’t want to do something, no one could convince her otherwise. But she also had this quiet kindness, a genuine love for every creature she encountered. She put her heart and soul into caring for others, no matter how small.”
As Charlotte's stories flowed, one after another, you found yourself completely engrossed. The world around you faded away, replaced by images of a precocious child with a heart full of wonder. You learned of Elowen's first attempts at baking, which ended with more flour on the floor than in the bowl. Of her made-up songs about the changing seasons, sung at the top of her lungs as she skipped around the house.
Time seemed to slip away as you sat there, listening. The sun climbed higher in the sky, warming your skin. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and in the distance, you could hear the soft commotion of the commune at work. The feeling of being watched had completely disappeared, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment.
Finally, Charlotte's voice trailed off, her stories coming to an end. She looked at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but her smile was radiant. "Thank you," she said softly. "It's been so long since I've had the chance to talk about her memory."
You reached out, squeezing her hand gently. "Thank you for sharing with me. Elowen sounds like she was an incredible person."
Charlotte nodded, giving your hand a squeeze in return. "She was. And in a way, she still is. As long as we remember them, the ones we love are never truly gone."
A low pulse grew in your chest, pleasant and warm and strangely familiar - like soft giggles and shared meals. But before you could place it, it was gone, and all you could do was return Charlotte’s smile and nod.
* * *
Like a rabbit amongst wolves, a mouse cradled in the jaws of a cat, your teeth were set on edge, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Something stood behind you, a menacing aura draping over you like a shroud.
The feeling of being watched, hunted, rarely relented as the days began to pass. It seemed to haunt you at all hours, an unshakeable presence that clung to your every move. Sometimes, you could manage to distract yourself from it, but even that temporary respite was becoming less effective.
Venturing out into the community was torture, their eyes on you, their faces warping into horrific metal masks, dented, rusted and blood splattered. Outside of Viktor, only Charlotte seemed able to coax you out of your room, and even then, on the worst of days, you simply refused to leave.
On those days, you were dangerous.
Sweat beaded on your neck, rolling down and into the collar of your shirt. You tried to ignore it, that feeling of wrongness that crept at the edges of your vision. Fear rose in the back of your throat, instinctual and unfettered, nostrils flaring like a caged beast. Except you’d put yourself in that cage.
You tried to focus on the room around you - the soft sheets beneath your fingers, the gentle light filtering through the curtains - but your mind kept slipping back to that presence behind you. It loomed larger with each passing second, a shadow given form by your fear.
You were a spring wound to its limit, muscles coiled tight. Your sparks began to swirl faster and faster, agitated by your distress. They crackled and popped, tiny bursts of energy that mirrored the chaos in your mind.
Something inside you snapped. With a strangled cry, you whirled around, arm outstretched, the sparks coalescing into jagged shards of arcane energy, pulsing with an eerie, otherworldly light. They shot from your fingertips like a volley of arrows, each one trailing wisps of cerulean mist.
“Someday, one of these is going to get stuck somewhere much less forgiving.” The sound of Viktor’s voice shattered the hazy illusion surrounding you with a suddenness that had your teeth rattling in your skull. Blinking away the fog in your vision, you focused on him, standing at in the entry of your shared room, the door left ajar like he’d only just stepped through, your arcane shards embedded in his bicep.
You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, too horrified at what you’d just done. The only sound that filled your echoing silence was Viktor’s quiet grunt as he pulled the shard from his arm.
“Viktor, I’m—“ You took a step forward, but stopped short, not trusting yourself to be near him. If you’d been a few inches over, or slightly higher, you would have stabbed right through his neck - you would have killed him. “I’m so sorry.”
And this was not the first time.
Closing the distance in his long-legged strides, he dropped the shard, letting it crumble into specks of light and disappear. He reached out and gently held your chin, guiding it upward until your eyes met his gaze.
“I’m unharmed. It only caused mild discomfort.”
Rationally, you knew this, having a magic body had some perks. Yet you still ran your fingers over the spot where the shard had been lodged, your mind conjuring up thick rivulets of blood pouring out of him. You shook your head, trying to dispel the gruesome thoughts, his now metal body parts did not bleed. Yet that copper tang that filled your nostrils only served to heighten your fears. Would he bleed out in this room while you stood by and did nothing to stop it?
Tears sprang to your eyes at the thought. “Stop, stop, stop,” you repeated under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Milá.” Viktor brought your chin back up and away from his arm once more, a firm redirection. “Listen to me; you have not hurt me, you need not worry.”
Yet you did anyway.
You twitched your head to the side, the reactionary need to use your magic to numb his pain flowing from your fingers and into him. You counted to ten in your head as the pressure behind your eyes dissipated, your breathing slowing. Your magic did nothing, he wasn’t hurting - as he had said - but it helped all the same.
Viktor sighed, lips slanted downwards, and pulled you against him in a tight hug. “It is endlessly aggravating that I cannot figure out how to help you.”
“If I apologize again you’re only going to berate me, aren’t you.”
He gave a dry chuckle, pressing his cheek against the side of your head. “Did a vision tell you that?”
“Ass,” you grumbled, though you could not keep the affection from coating your tone like honey.
How many more times would this happen? How many close calls would you have to endure before your fear-driven instincts caused real harm? The image of Viktor lying on the floor, a pool of blood spreading around his body, flashed through your mind, making you shudder involuntarily. It wasn't real, you reminded yourself, but the possibility haunted you.
You thought back to the early days after you’d absorbed the Hexcore, when these hallucinations first manifested - your visions blending with falsehoods until you could no longer tell what was what. It had gotten better when Viktor had awoken, but after the Hextech surge, it had only continued to worsen.
What if you couldn't control it? What if one day, you hurt someone who couldn't shrug it off like Viktor? The thought of harming Charlotte or any of the innocent people in the commune made your stomach churn.
It gnawed at your sanity, leaving you jumpy and paranoid. You longed for just one day of peace, one moment where you could simply exist without fear.
You thought of Charlotte and her daughter Elowen, of the love and joy in Charlotte's voice as she shared her memories. Would you ever have a normal life like that, filled with simple pleasures and cherished moments, unburdened by your magic? Or was this your new reality - forever on edge, forever a danger to those around you?
You wanted to run, to hide, to find someplace where you couldn't hurt anyone. But even as the thought crossed your mind, you knew you couldn't leave. This place, these people - they were your home now. And Viktor…the thought of being without him made your heart ache and your eyes burn.
“What happens when I actually hurt someone?” You hadn’t realized you were speaking until after the words had left your mouth.
Viktor sighed, long and heavy. “That will not happen.”
Stepping out of his embrace, you crossed your arms over your chest, scowling. “Denying it won’t make it any less likely.”
Long, slender fingers recaptured your shoulder. “I am simply stating the truth.”
Wrenching yourself from his grasp, you took another step back. “No, that’s not it. Every day I get worse, and I don’t know how to stop it. The people out there, the ones we should be protecting, are put at risk because I’m here.” Angry tears welled up in your eyes and you scrubbed them away with the heels of your palms. Though it was a futile effort, more hot tears took their place. “You ask them to leave their weapons at the door but I am a weapon. What happens when they can’t defend themselves against me?”
What would happen when you couldn’t do as Soraka had asked of you? Why did it have to be you? You hadn’t asked for this power, this mind that fractured under the weight of your arcane abilities. Soraka had told you that you could save them, but how were you supposed to do that when you couldn’t even think straight?
Viktor's eyes softened with a tender warmth, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a stormy sky. He reached out his hand, moving slowly as if he was afraid to startle you, giving you the chance to retreat if you desired. But you couldn't bring yourself to. His metal fingers were cool as they brushed away the tears that streamed down your cheeks.
"You are not a weapon, miláčku. You are a person - full of complexity, compassion, and beauty. You are so much more than the power you possess."
His words washed over you, a balm to your frayed nerves. You wanted to believe him, desperately needed to. But the fear, the doubt, they clung to you like shadows.
"But the sparks, the visions or hallucinations, whatever they are. I’m losing control," you choked out.
"They’re part of you, yes," Viktor nodded, "but they do not define you. Your empathy, your strength, your unwavering desire to protect others - these are what make you who you are."
A sob escaped your throat, raw and vulnerable. The sparks, sensing your distress, began to swirl around you with increasing intensity. They danced through the air, weaving intricate patterns of light that pulsed in time with your ragged breaths.
Viktor watched, his eyes narrowing slightly in fascination. "These sparks," he mused, reaching out to let one land on his fingertip, "I wonder if there's more to them than we initially thought."
You sniffled, curiosity momentarily overriding your despair. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just a theory, nothing concrete as of yet. But the way they react to you, how they seem to have a will of their own…it's intriguing."
The sparks continued their dance, some nestling in your hair while others twirled around your arms. Their presence was comforting, familiar. You found your breathing beginning to even out, the tight knot in your chest slowly unravelling.
Viktor pulled you close again, his embrace steady and grounding, and you leaned against him. "We'll solve this," he murmured into your hair. "You're not alone in this, lásko. Never forget that."
You nodded against his chest and the sparks settled, a soft glow emanating from them as they nestled against your skin.
The world outside your room continued on, the sounds of the commune drifting through the window. But for now, in that moment, you allowed yourself to simply be - not a weapon, not a saviour, just Mila. And for now, that was enough.